#i would be making desserts but I was busy maybe on monday

[xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PIPER

#piper mclean #Pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #hoo #aphrodite cabin #daughter of aphrodite #literally my wife #i love her so much #i would be making desserts but I was busy maybe on monday #Love you piper #Shel #lgbt fiction #lgbtqia+ #lesbian #pansexual #bisexual #big ole queer mess #My favorite big ole queer mess #tristan mclean #Daughter of Tristan McLean

[merrybloomwrites]

You Can Start a Family (Chapter 5)

Summary: Another few days spent with Mitch and Sarah lead to more developments in your relationship.

Previous Chapters: One ; Two ; Three ; Four

TW for this chapter: It contains smut

I did have one person mention that these posts aren't showing up for them, I'm guessing because the story now has a mature community label, so let me know if you want to be added to the taglist so you don't miss anything!

Hope you enjoy, and would love to know what you're thinking of the story so far!

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The following week is busy at work. Ryan’s mom, Beth, is a high school teacher and has been stuck working longer hours, as it was the end of a marking period as well as the week before spring break. You and Ryan had started going on more outings. You were busy taking him to baby music class, and story time at the local library.

Sarah and Mitch had also started to spend more time at the studio, often going for hours or even the whole day. You hadn’t seen them all week, and after having spent a whole weekend together, you were missing them.

Finally on Thursday you see them for the first time in days. You’re loading Ryan into his car seat as they get out of their car across the street.

They walk over to you waving hello before leaning in to say hi to Ryan.

“How are you love?” Sarah asks. “We’ve missed you,” she says as Mitch nods in agreement.

“I missed you guys too,” you say with a shy smile. “I’ve been good, crazy busy. We’re trying different activities for Ryan. His mom wants him socializing with other kids and burning some energy. Which definitely is needed. Plus, he switched to one nap a day so there’s a lot of time to fill.” You realize you’re once again rambling and turn the conversation to them, asking, “What have you been up to?”

“Mitch got some inspiration for new music, so we’ve been working on that.”

“That’s so cool! Can I hear some of it?”

“Sure kid,” Mitch replies. “Are you free anytime soon?”

“Ryan’s family is going away for Easter this Sunday and taking a long weekend, so I’ll be off next Monday and Tuesday. If you’re free, maybe we could have another sleepover? My apartment this time.” You blush, nervous that you sounded too forward.

“What are you doing for the holiday?” Sarah asks.

“Honestly, probably nothing. Maybe make a special meal or something. What about you guys?” You notice they didn’t acknowledge your invitation and grow more worried that they no longer want that aspect of their relationship with you. Before your mind spirals, Mitch answers.

“My aunt and uncle are visiting for a couple days,” Mitch answers before continuing, “And you will be coming over for dinner.”

“I really don’t want to intrude-” Sarah cuts you off, saying, “Y/N, you will be coming over for dinner. No question. You’re never intruding. And if you don’t mind, maybe we could come over on Sunday after dinner and stay a couple of days?”

Your face lights up and you reply, “I absolutely would not mind.” At that moment Ryan starts loudly babbling, tired of listening to the adults. “I should get going, story time starts soon.”

Sarah leans in and gives you a light hug, saying, “Of course! Sounds like we’ve got a great plan.” She pulls back and Mitch rests his hand on your shoulder for a second before squeezing once and pulling away. You know that these are the only types of contact you can have with them in public. Even if you were spotted, those casual touches wouldn’t raise any suspicions.

You double check that Ryan’s car seat straps are tight enough and continue with your afternoon. You have newfound energy now that you know that you’ll be spending multiple days with Mitch and Sarah.

Friday passes quickly and you keep busy on Saturday, doing a much deeper clean than usual since you would be having guests. You also go food shopping and make sure to pick up ingredients for an appetizer and a dessert which you make Sunday morning before heading over to the Rowland’s house in the early afternoon.

Mitch’s father answers the door and leads you into the kitchen where the rest of the family is congregated. You’re greeted by Mitch, Sarah, and Tammy, and introduced to Mitch’s aunt and uncle. You have a wonderful afternoon with everyone, enjoying the stories they’re all telling.

After dessert is over, and you finish playing a few rounds of a card game that got way more competitive than expected, you’re saying goodbye to Mitch’s family. He and Sarah each grab their bags and walk out to your car with you.

It’s a quick drive to your place and next thing you know, Mitch and Sarah are walking around your apartment, complimenting the view and decorations.

“This apartment really is beautiful. I love the windows and it’s so spacious in here,” Sarah says.

“There aren’t many perks to most of your family dying in your early 20’s, but being the sole recipient of all life insurance payouts and inheritances would probably be the one bright side.”

They both stare at you, as they do when you mention your trauma so nonchalantly.

“What?” you say, “I’m talking about the positives! Don’t give me those faces. Anyone want some water?” You decide it might just be best to move on from the discussion of your dead relatives. You grab a couple bottles of water from the fridge and hand one to each of them asking, “Do you guys want to sit out on the deck?”

They agree and you lead them outside to show them one of your favorite parts of your apartment. It’s a decently large deck, big enough to fit an outdoor loveseat plus another comfy chair, and since you’re a corner unit, it faces the woods behind your building, allowing for privacy. You sit in the single chair, leaving them to share the loveseat. You start to tell them about the wildlife you’ve seen in the woods, then point out the constellations you could see.

You all spend a few minutes sitting quietly enjoying each other’s company as well as the mild early spring weather. You feel a hand on your arm and know that it’s Sarah. You turn to her, and she gently pulls you, saying, “You’re too far away, come here.”

You get up and stand in front of them, not sure exactly where to sit. She pulls you down so that you are seated sideways on her lap, your legs extended over Mitch. He runs his hands over your shins and Sarah wraps her arms around your waist, holding you close. After another few minutes of listening to the calm sounds of the night you feel Sarah brushing your hair over your shoulder so she can start to kiss your neck.

Your eyes close at the feeling of her lips on your skin and of Mitch’s hands traveling higher on your legs. You slowly turn your head and seek out Sarah’s lips with your own. Neither of you hesitate to deepen the kiss, tongues immediately searching each other’s mouths. Mitch leans in to take over peppering your neck in kisses, occasionally switching to do the same to Sarah. He eventually turns you away from Sarah to himself, and you get lost in the feeling of kissing him. Next thing you know you’re watching them make out in front of you as your hands absently trail along their skin.

You all continue on like this for a while, getting lost in the sensations.

“Should we head inside?” Sarah asks, and you nod your head.

You all stand up, Mitch steadying both you and Sarah. You walk into your bedroom, immensely glad you had decided to splurge on the king bed. You stop just in the doorway and feel Mitch’s hand on your lower back. You’re equal parts excited and nervous about what’s about to happen, and you wonder if you’ll ever move past your nerves. You feel Mitch’s lips against your ear, and he asks, “Would you like to learn something new tonight?”

You turn your head to him, eyes practically crossing trying to look at him when he’s so close, and you nod again. He turns to whisper something to Sarah, and she smirks before climbing in bed and leaning against the headboard.

“C’mere, love,” she says to you, and you climb up the bed towards her. She pulls you in and says, “Mitch thinks we can teach you some different things to do with your mouth, what do you think?” Your eyes practically roll back in your head at the suggestion. You bite your lip and nod before saying, “I think that’s a great idea.” You start kissing her neck, biting gently as though overeager at the idea of using your mouth to please them.

Clothes are thrown off bodies and onto the floor. You start to kiss down Sarah’s body. You’re leaving kisses on the inside of her thighs when you suddenly feel kisses on your own thighs from behind. You glance back to see Mitch is behind you, just as bare as you and Sarah.

“Just follow along with Mitch,” Sarah says. You’re confused for a moment but then gasp as you feel him lick along your core. You understand what Sarah meant and lean to do the same to her. The sounds she lets out spur you on, each whimper turning you on even more and you barely hold yourself back from pushing closer to Mitch’s mouth.

You take note of the different things he does with his lips and tongue and recreate the moves to the best of your ability on Sarah. You feel the familiar tightening in your belly as your orgasm approaches. You hum in pleasure and the vibrations push Sarah over the edge. She grabs your hair, careful not to pull too hard. You work her through her orgasm and a second later fall into your own.

You lay your head on Sarah’s stomach as you both catch your breath. Her fingers weave through your hair as Mitch presses light kisses to your back. He climbs up towards Sarah, and she pushes him to lay on his back. Your eyes meet Sarah’s, and she beckons your closer. You crawl up to kiss her, then Mitch.

You think about what today’s lesson is, and take a deep breath before moving back down, this time trailing kisses along Mitch’s torso. You kiss just above his groin and look at his hard cock before glancing back to Sarah, silently asking for advice on what to do next.

She starts to whisper instructions in your ear, and you lean down to wrap your lips around him. He groans and clutches the sheets to keep himself from thrusting into your mouth. At Sarah’s direction you switch between sucking on what you can fit in your mouth and running your tongue along his length and around his tip. After a few minutes he pulls you off of him and sits up so he can press his lips to yours and you share a kiss so messy you can feel your teeth clashing against his.

“You did so good, baby,” he says in your ear before nipping at your neck and pulling away. He turns to Sarah and kisses her before pulling her onto his lap. He reaches down, and in a move so practiced and smooth that you almost miss it, he slides inside her. They both throw their heads back, moaning as they come together before sharing a moment of eye contact. You realize he’s checking in that she’s okay before they start to move together. You’re fascinated by what’s playing out in front of you. Sure, you’re turned on, but you’re more curious to watch than participate. That doesn’t mean they’re okay with you being left out, and they make sure they each have a hand somewhere on your body the whole time. You watch Sarah fall apart, Mitch following right after.

You all collapse onto the bed, a jumble of limbs, bright smiles on everyone’s faces. You’re once again surprised at how right this feels. You fall asleep with your head on Sarah’s chest, hand clasped with Mitch’s over her.

The next day you again wake up first. You slide out of bed, throw on some clothes, and go to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and reflect on the night before. You think about how safe they make you feel and how patient they are teaching you about intimacy. You’ve been so scared about being physical with someone that you thought it might never happen. But now you think back to how gentle Mitch was with Sarah, how he made sure to check in with her, and you start to think that you might be ready to have that as well.

Mitch and Sarah join you in the kitchen and you make them tea as well. As you set the mugs down Mitch’s phone starts to ring with an incoming FaceTime call. You glance at it and are surprised to see that it’s Harry calling. Harry Styles. Somehow you had yet to interact with him at all even though you’d been hanging out with his best friends for weeks.

Mitch answers the call and starts talking to Harry. Sarah quietly laughs at the look of panic on your face. You take some deep breaths, forcing yourself to stop fangirling before you somehow make a fool of yourself in the background of the call. You’ve just managed to contain your excitement when Mitch pulls you over to officially introduce you to Harry. You learn that he does know who you are, and Mitch and Sarah have apparently been talking about you to their friends.

It’s a short call, Harry had just wanted to check in on everyone and soon they hang up. Breakfast that morning is simple, everyone pouring a bowl of cereal and you discuss what to do that day.

“Do you still want to hear some of Mitch’s new music?” Sarah asks and you answer with an enthusiastic, “Of course I do!”

After everyone showers and gets ready for the day, you all drive over to the studio. Mitch plays two of the songs he’s working on, and you listen closely, watching in amazement as he sings the songs he wrote himself.

“I was wondering if you could help me with something,” he says timidly after you compliment him on his music.

“Sure, what is it?” you reply.

“I’ve got some ideas for guitar harmonies and want to test them out against the melody. If I tell you the chord progression, would you be able to play melody so I can see if it all works together?”

“Yes, absolutely.” He teaches you what to play and you spend the next couple of hours working on his songs, fascinated to see what goes on behind the scenes.

When you all start to get hungry you leave the studio to pick up sandwiches for lunch. You mention a walking trail nearby that has great views and you decide to take your lunch there. It’s a short walk to the first outlook and you settle there to eat. You ask Mitch and Sarah about their childhoods, wanting to know more about them. You continue your questions after lunch when you’re all walking towards the waterfall at the end of the trail.

When you reach it, Sarah starts taking pictures, including a selfie of the three of you which she immediately sends you. You’ll later make that your phone background, but no one needs to know that.

You start walking back and Mitch says, “So, I was thinking we could all go to Bella Luna’s tonight for dinner.”

You’ve heard of Bella Luna’s before. It’s one of the nicer restaurants in town. Ryan’s parents have gone there a couple of times for date nights, and you know it’s viewed as highly romantic.

“Oh, I’ve heard great reviews about that place,” Sarah replies with a cheeky smile. You nod and agree and spend the rest of the afternoon wondering what this fancy dinner might mean.

Back home everyone starts getting ready. Mitch informs you that the reservation is set for 6PM and you wonder when he set that up, as he hadn’t been on his phone at all that day aside from talking to Harry. You also realize that they both had fancy clothes packed and wonder if they had planned this ahead of time.

You walk out of your bathroom after getting changed, smoothing down your dress and fiddling with your hair to make sure it’s lying just right. You look up and see Mitch and Sarah staring at you.

Sarah walks over and places her hands on your hips, saying, “You look amazing,” before pulling you in for a kiss. “You look amazing too,” you reply after breaking apart. Mitch walks up to you saying, “You both look beautiful,” and you each kiss and compliment him as well.

You have a wonderful time at dinner. The conversation flows naturally, and the food is delicious. There’s never an awkward silence, and you realize how compatible you all are in every way.

Once back at your apartment, the evening goes like the one before and you find yourselves again out on the deck. Instead of you sitting on the chair, Mitch immediately pulls you on the loveseat with him and Sarah, and you’re sat half in each of their laps.

“Dinner tonight was delicious, thank you for taking me there,” you say.

“Of course, love,” Sarah replies. “We needed to make our first date special.”

At the word date you quickly turn to her, a shocked and confused expression on your face. You knew they cared about you, knew they were interested in you physically, but hadn’t dared to hope for the relationship to take this turn.

No one has ever expressed interest in you this way before, and here are two wonderful people wanting to bring you into their relationship. Two people who had everything they could want, but still opened themselves up to another person.

“We really care about you, Y/N,” Mitch says, and you turn to look at him. “Not just in a friendly or familial way. We care about you the way we care about each other.” Sarah is nodding in agreement, and you reply, “I care about you both too. More than anyone else.”

“I know this won’t necessarily be easy,” Sarah says. “It’s a complicated dynamic, especially with us being so well known publicly. But Y/N, we want to be with you. We want you as part of our relationship. Would you like that too?”

“I would. I really would. I know it’ll be difficult, and we’ll have to keep it a secret, but I want a relationship with you both. Being with you two just feels right in a way nothing ever has before.”

“We feel the same way,” Mitch replies.

They each press a kiss to your lips before sharing one with each other. The three of you sit there in an embrace, and the fact that you’re in a relationship sinks in. You can’t help the huge smile that breaks out on your face.

“What is it?” Mitch asks, noticing your expression.

“Nothing,” you reply. “I’m just really, really happy.”

“We are too,” Sarah says and meets you for another kiss. Mitch turns you towards him and he quickly deepens the kiss. This time you don’t get lost in the feeling, too lost in your thoughts of what you want to happen next.

Mitch notices your hesitance and pulls away asking, “What’s wrong, baby?”

You shiver at the nickname, holding one of his hands in yours and fidgeting with his fingers while building up the nerve to tell him what you’re thinking.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just. There’s something I want to do. And it makes me really nervous, but I think that I’m ready.” You pause a moment before continuing, “I know that I’m ready. To do this. With you.”

With the hand you’re not currently holding, Mitch cups your face to bring you to look at him. “Y/N, what is it you want to do?”

Even just saying the words feels impossible, not used to wanting this, let alone asking for it. “I, uhm, I want to- I’m ready to go all the way.”

He looks you in the eyes before asking, “Are you saying that you want to have sex with me?” You try to look away, somehow both embarrassed and turned on at the blunt way Mitch is clarifying your desires. “Because it’s absolutely okay if you do. I want to do that too. But only if you’re really ready,” he continues.

“I am,” you say firmly. “I’m ready. I’ve always been so scared of sex, but I saw the way you were with Sarah last night and, I dunno, I just know that you’d take care of me. I realized I don’t have to be scared with you. With either of you,” you finish, reaching one of your hands to rest on Sarah’s leg.

“Of course I’ll take care of you baby,” he says. “It’s all we want to do.” He leans in and presses his lips to yours, picking up where he left off a few minutes earlier. You feel like you’re too far away from him and move to straddle his lap. His hands immediately go to your waist, pulling you in so you’re flush against him.  

You feel his hard cock against you and begin to grow excited at the thought of what’s about to happen. He guides your arms around his neck and tells you to hold on tight. The next moment he stands from the couch, hands sliding to your bottom to support you so he can carry you inside. The three of you make your way to the bedroom, and Mitch lays you down on the bed, immediately crawling on top of you.

You get lost in the feeling of Mitch’s tongue stroking yours, on his hands sliding along your body. You tug on his shirt and break away to pull it off of him. He does the same to your dress and within minutes all of your clothes are on the floor. His fingers are at your entrance, slipping in one at a time to slowly open you up.  

You look over to see that Sarah is fully clothed and you pout. She notices your expression and says, “I’m okay love, I just want to watch tonight. This is a special moment for you.” You reach out your hand to hold on to hers and she passes something to Mitch before sliding her fingers between yours.

You hear a noise and look back to Mitch and realize what Sarah had handed him. He opens the condom wrapper and slips it on before running the head of his cock through your folds. He looks at you and asks, “Are you sure?” Without hesitating you tell him you’re sure, that you want this.

He lines himself up and starts to push in. You gasp at the stretch and squeeze Sarah’s hand. Mitch leans down to pepper kisses and love bites along your neck as Sarah runs her free hand on your stomach. You focus on those feelings as Mitch continues to push in, checking that you’re okay throughout.

Finally, he’s flush against you, letting out a loud groan in your ear at the feeling of you wrapped around him. Tears leak out of your closed eyes and you’re unsure if they’re from the uncomfortable pressure of being filled for the first time or from the overwhelming emotions running through you.

Sarah wipes away the tears, leaning in to quietly say, “You’re doing so well, love.” After a moment of letting you adjust, Mitch checks in again to see how you’re feeling, and if you want him to continue or pull out.

“Keep going, I’m good, please, you can keep going,” you tell him in a breathy voice you’ve never heard from yourself before.

He starts to move, slow thrusts at first before building up a rhythm after he’s sure you’re ready for more. It doesn’t take long to switch from uncomfortable pressure to intense pleasure. You’re still holding one of Sarah’s hands in yours and she uses her free hand to rub circles on your clit. You’re lost in the sensations, Mitch inside you, Sarah adding to the pleasure, both of their lips leaving kisses all over your body. It all builds until you come with a loud moan, clenching around Mitch. It’s an intense feeling, one that causes you to see stars, and you’re only vaguely aware of Mitch reaching his orgasm just after you.

They both slow down before stilling completely. Mitch tucks his face into your neck saying, “I’m gonna pull out now, okay babe?” You nod and he slowly pulls out as Sarah presses more kisses to the top of your head.

Mitch gets off the bed and you whimper and reach for him, not wanting him to be far away from you. “Shh, love,” Sarah says gently. “He’ll be right back; he’s just gone to get a cloth to clean up.”

A moment later he’s back and uses a damp washcloth to clean between your legs. He slips on a pair of boxers and places a large t-shirt on the bed for you. You know he’s giving you the option to put it on if you’d like but not pressuring you to, and you realize how well he already knows what will make you most comfortable. You slip on the shirt as he climbs in bed next to you. As you curl into his side, Sarah gets up and you pout again but refrain from grabbing for her as well. She changes into pajamas and gets back under the covers, holding you tightly.

You fall asleep almost immediately, missing the whispered conversation between the other two.

“How are you feeling?” Mitch asks her. He knew they had talked previously about the possibility of you and Mitch having sex, but he still wanted to make sure Sarah didn’t feel any different after seeing it happen.

“Honestly?” She replies. “I feel great. Y/N said it earlier, it just feels right. Watching the two of you together was mesmerizing, and beautiful. I think I may have fallen even more in love with you.” He grabs her hand and squeezes gently. You stir in their arms, turning towards Sarah and tucking your face into her neck. They share a smile over you and fall asleep as well.

Shockingly, you’re the last one awake the next morning. When you do finally wake up, you realize you’re sprawled on top of Mitch, clinging to him. He’s running his fingers through your hair, and you feel so content you almost fall back asleep. Before you do, Sarah walks in with a tray full of food. You climb off of Mitch to sit in the middle of the bed and Sarah sets down the tray before sitting next to you.

You rest your head on her shoulder and she says, “Good morning love. You feeling okay?”

“I’m feeling absolutely wonderful,” you reply with a shy smile. You glance at Mitch and see he’s looking at you with a similarly fond expression. “I’m also suddenly starving,” you continue. “This looks amazing!”

They laugh at your enthusiasm for breakfast, and you all start to dig in.

“What would you like to do today,” Mitch asks.

“Nothing. I want to do nothing today. I want to stay here with the two of you and have a movie marathon or binge TV and just cuddle.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” he replies.

And that’s what the three of you do. At lunch time you switch to hanging out in the living room instead of the bedroom, but that’s the extent of your effort for the day. They end up staying that night as well, brushing their teeth beside you in the bathroom before bed, and you revel in how domestic it feels.

They wake up bright and early with you the next morning and make sure to get their goodbye kisses before you all leave the apartment together. You drop them off in their driveway on your way to work and they each give you a quick hug before going inside the house.

You turn the car around and pull into Ryan’s driveway and sit in there for a moment before going into the house. You give yourself a couple minutes to think about the past few days, smiling and letting out a giggle when you can no longer contain the pure joy you feel.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I'm excited for the next part, we're finally adding Harry to the mix soon!

Taglist:@akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @theekyliepage @numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry @ssareidbby

#harry styles x reader #mitch rowland x reader #mitch rowland x sarah jones x reader #sarah jones x reader #mitch rowland x harry styles #sarah jones x mitch rowland x reader

[hoedamn-eron]

200 follower special - prompt 27

"Don't you dare touch them."

Warnings: Almost mugging/robbery. Jokes about foot fetish. Some swearing. Violence (Marc can get scary). An almost panic attack. Angsty, but happy-ish ending. This took a turn as it wasn't supposed to end up with Marc punching anyone. Also it got away from me and I'm not 100% happy with it. Not proof-read. Word count: 2,680 GN!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Requested by @jupitersmoon167 for my 200 follower special. Let's ignore the fact this was supposed to be out two days ago, I had something going on with my son and his school which needed sorting.

It had been a long and trying month. It was nearly the year end and your company was tying up all its loose ends, including audits and finalising accounts and payments, which meant strict deadlines and pissed off managers who were just as stressed as you and took it out on you lowly workers. After this particularly bad week, you were seriously debating not bothering to come back in again on Monday.

To top it off, there was another tube strike, so you had to get the bus home; with what seemed like the rest of London. You’d sent the system a text about how late you’d be home, that it was downright freezing and you wished that working from home was still an option. Steven had sent back a text telling you he’d pop the kettle on for when you were home, and he’d have your cosiest pyjamas laid out for you, and you could both cuddle in the blanket watching terrible Friday night TV.

You held back a groan of relief. It sounded like heaven.

But when you actually got back to your shared flat with the boys, it wasn’t Steven who greeted you at the door. Marc had forgoed all of Steven’s warm, cosy plans, and had actually booked a last-minute table at your favourite restaurant by Covent Garden.

Ideally, you would rather have gone with Steven’s plan, something that didn’t involve you taking another step out of the flat but you couldn’t say no to Marc. As of late, he’d been working long hours and you had barely seen him, even when it was his fronting days, it was usually Steven or Jake to greet you at the door. You’d missed Marc.

So you made yourself get ready as quickly as you could, wearing that nice new shirt you had been meaning to wear, with the boots that Marc liked on you. You didn’t miss the appreciative look he gave you, biting his lip and rubbing at his neck as he averted his gaze from you, muttering you were going to be late if you both didn’t get a move on.

You made a teasing quip about having to leave at all, something Marc had chuckled at as he locked the flat up.

You both decided to get a taxi to Coven Garden, something you tried to avoid with the boys since Jake always had something to say about the taxi drivers and what a ‘bad job they’re doing’. Traffic had calmed a little since you go home, although still busy and you barely made it to the restaurant.

“So tough day at work?” Marc asked you as you sat at your table.

“Tough month, but this week was particularly bad,” you replied, not being able to resist rolling your eyes at the thought of having to go back into work on Monday and do it all again.

“Tell me about it,” Marc said, sliding his hand into yours, giving you that smile that you loved so much.

Dinner was wonderful. You’d tried to keep the ‘shop talk’ to a minimum, but it was hard when Marc was being so caring and telling you how you could do so much better than a place like that. You decided then and there to make your New Year’s Resolution to leave and find somewhere else. As Marc said, “Your talents are wasted there.”

You had chuckled at him as the waitress had cleared your plates. “I wouldn’t say my Excel skills are ‘talents’ but thank you. Maybe I can write a book or something. Or go on FeetFinder and put my piggies to work.”

Marc snorted with laughter into his wine glass as the waitress gave you a comical look, her own cheeks red as she looked between you both. “Will we be looking at dessert tonight?”

Marc shook his head as he placed his now empty wineglass down. “Just the bill, please, thank you.”

The waitress nodded before walking away. You looked at Marc with a raised eyebrow. “You usually love dessert.”

“Jake’s got a tub of Viennetta ice cream back at the flat that I’ve been eyeing up and he hasn’t opened it yet.”

You grinned before giving him a mockingly scathing look. “Jake won’t be happy about that.”

“Well he decided to leave it unattended with me around, so that’s his own fault.”

The smile slowly fell from your face before you cleared your throat. “So…why did you front tonight?”

Marc raised an eyebrow at you, his look going stern.

You shook your head. “That’s not what I meant. I meant that Steven was fronting when I left work, but it was you when I got home. You’ve been…busy, I suppose. I haven’t seen you for a while.”

Marc studied you for a moment before sighing, reaching over the table to cup your hands in his own, giving them a squeeze as he looked into your eyes. You felt yourself melt on the inside. You found yourself on multiple occasions getting lost in those brown eyes, with all your boys. The eyes were always different; Steven’s were always soft, and they looked at you like you hung the stars. Jake looked at you, always, with uncertainty, like you were about to bolt. But he was just as touch starved as Marc was and was always stuck by your side.

Marc always looked at you like a saviour. Like you gave him air, that you were the light of his life, always the one to bring him back to whatever dark place he went to sometimes. He couldn’t survive without you, and didn’t you know it by the look in his eyes. But like Jake, he too, thought you would leave at the drop of a hat, unable to handle the baggage he carried.

You wouldn’t ever leave them. Never ever.

“I’m sorry,” Marc answered. “I did realise how absent I was being and that’s why I told him I was going to take you out tonight. He argued with me, obviously, but yeah…”

You give a smile as the waitress brought over your bill, Marc already digging for his wallet in his pocket, asking for the card machine. He paid swiftly, leaving a generous tip, before standing and helping you with your jacket. You grit your teeth, mentally preparing yourself for going back out into the cold.

“Winter has never been your season,” Marc chuckled at you as you both left the restaurant, your arms around your middle against the chill.

You couldn’t reply, your teeth already chattering together as Marc lead you towards the taxi rank a few streets down. As if the cold didn’t affect him, Marc wrapped his arm around you and chatted away, telling you about how there was still time for a hot drink and a hot bath, and you giggled at the way he seductively mentioned he could join you. He buried his head into your neck, giving a few light kisses, causing you to giggle more.

You turned the corner onto the quiet street where the taxis usually were, but it was empty. You mentally cursed the closures of the tube stations and the shortage of taxis, not sure how willing you were to wait any longer in the cold. You were about to turn to Marc and suggest getting the next available bus, but you were cut off by an alarmed voice, a bit too loud on the quiet street.

“You best give me your wallets and any valuables.”

You looked at the person stood in front of you, a chill going through your body and it wasn’t because of the cold weather. He had a hood up and a medical mask over the bottom half of his face, leaving no features available. In his hand, he had a knife sat casually (a casually as a robbery could be) by his hip, his other hand out towards you and Marc, waiting oddly patient.

Marc almost chuckled. “You don’t want to do this, buddy.”

“Don’t ’buddy’ me,” the man snapped, taking a step towards you both. You grip Marc’s arm hard, your eyes wide as you try to breathe, the fear sitting icy in your chest. “Give me your shit before you get hurt.”

“Hey, back the fuck off,” Marc said, taking a step forward. You grip his arm even tighter, your fingers feeling numb against Marc’s jacket.

“Marc,” you whispered, pulling him back a little, but it was as if he didn’t hear you.

“Don’t mess with me, mate,” said the robber. He suddenly lunged forward, grabbing you. You let out a scream as the man started to force himself in your pockets, but he was pulled from you just as quickly as he was on you.

“Don't you dare touch them.” Marc threw the man to the floor so violently, you were surprised he hadn’t cracked the pavement.

Marc was on top of the man in a blink, pulling him up by the collar of his shirt roughly. You had seen Marc pissed; you were around for the last few ‘favours’ he owed Khonshu…but this was something else.

It was like Marc had been taken over by an angry demon. He sent punch after punch to the man’s face, until the robber was about to black out. He wasn’t stopping. You could hear him repeating not to touch you, to never touch you. If he didn’t stop, he would kill this man, and you know he wouldn’t be able to live with that, even if the man was trying to rob you both. You reached forward, placing your hand on Marc’s shoulder as you called him, jumping back when he looked at you with wide eyes, looking at you as if he just remembered where he was. He looked down at the man underneath him, who was groaning, his mask crooked and splattered with blood.

Marc scrambled up, standing quickly as he looked at his hands. He was shaking, his breathing heavy but you could see the panic in his eyes. He looked at you desperately, before he started shaking his head. “I’m…I’m sorry, I don’t…I can’t – “

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” you said, reaching towards him gently, like a deer on the verge of bolting, before sliding your hand up his arm, resting your palm on his cheek. “It’s fine. You just made a snap judgement, we were both in danger. Would you feel better calling an ambulance?”

At that, the man on the floor groaned again, turning on his side, coughing a little. Marc stared at the man for a few moments before nodding his head. You knew he wasn’t far from going into the headspace, so you took it upon yourself to call for an ambulance, and you asked for to police too (the guy was still trying to rob you at knife point).

By the time the police and ambulance arrived, you had given your statemen to the police, Marc having taken a sit down a while ago at the doorstep of a building, his head buried in his hands. The police had taken the knife as evidence and took down your details, letting you know that if anything needed to be taken further, then they would call you, but it had sounded like self defence so there was probably nothing to worry about. You thanked them again before turning back to Marc, whose breathing seemed to have calmed down.

“Shall we go home?” You weren’t sure who you were talking to.

It took a few moments, but when those brown eyes looked up at you when he lifted his head, it was still Marc. He looked at you with a scared look on his face, before slowly nodding at you. You stood, slipping his hand into yours, holding it so tightly that you were afraid he was going to cut off your circulation. You both walked in silence, silently and mutually deciding that getting a taxi somewhere else was probably for the best. You needed to get away from that taxi rank.

“I’m sorry.”

You look at Marc with wide eyes. He was so quiet you almost didn’t hear him. He wasn’t looking at you, but at the floor, the anguish still on his face. You frowned at him before shaking your head. “You don’t have to apologise, you were just protecting me.”

“I could’ve killed him. He put his hands on you and I saw red.”

“But you didn’t,” you said, Marc finally looking at you, an uncertain look on his face. “You didn’t kill him. It didn’t get that far. He was even still conscious. Barely, but still conscious.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

You stopped walking, pulling him towards you so he’d look at you square in the face. You let go of his hand, cupping his cheeks. “Now listen to me. It was a very scary situation and he wasn’t a good guy. He was going to steal from us. Wouldn’t you have done the same thing if you were still working for Khonshu?”

Marc grimaced.

You pulled a face. “I know, sorry. That was a bad example.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever feel like this ever again. Not since we cut ties with the stupid bird.”

Your heart was breaking for him. He didn’t deserve to feel the way he was. He was the most loving man you’d ever met, even when he’d had a lot thrown at him. Marc deserved everything good in the world, even when things got bad. He was your rock like you were his. He need to know he was worthy of forgiveness and love and warmth and security, even when he slipped.

“That feeling won’t ever go away, but it doesn’t make you a bad person, Marc,” you said, your hands landing on his shoulders. “I think because you feel remorse it makes you a good person. You had a debt and you were dealt a shitty hand and you were used. It’s not your fault.”

The tears pooling in his eyes made your heart break just that little bit more. Marc sniffed loudly as he turned away from you again, looking down at the floor. You know that he didn’t believe you; you know he wanted to, but he wasn’t quite there yet. But with the help of you, Steven, and Jake, and even Layla, Marc was safe, and secure, and he would get there one day.

“Let’s go home,” you finally say. “Let’s go home, and we can have that hot bath that I’ve been thinking about all evening, and we can cuddle in bed. I’ll even bring out the electric blanket.”

Marc lets out a quiet, small chuckle, finally looking back at you. The spark to his eyes had come back a little. Not much, but it was there. “Really splashing out, huh?”

“It’s freezing,” you complained again, slipping your hand back into Marc’s as you both walk to the busier streets of London, a few more cars on the road. You felt safer with more people around too. “Also, we need to get our hands on that Viennetta before Jake.”

There was silence for a few moment and you wondered if Marc had gone back into his head again, only for him to stop you abruptly to cup your face and meet your lips with his own. Your eyes flutter shut, and you let out a small groan, enough for him to grin into the kiss, instantly warming you from the inside. You leaned into him, practically trying to get into his skin, wanting to be as close as possible before he parted from you.

You take in a sharp breath as you open your eyes, looking at him with such love and devotion that the events of earlier that evening momentarily left Marc’s mind. He looked at you with an equal look of adoration. “I love you. Thank you for loving me.”

You smile, leaning into him again like a lovestruck teenager (which you wouldn’t deny). “And thank you for loving me.”

#moon knight #marc spector x reader #marc x reader #marc spector x gn!reader #marc spector #oscar isaac #200 follower special

[leclercskiesahead]

Singapore Grand Prix: from the ground

Hello everybody this is gonna be a blog recap of what I got up to with F1 in my city.

(will update with pics later)

Pre-race events

Various racing-related pop ups started appearing even on Thursday or Friday the week before the race (aka during the week between Monza and Singapore). However the bulk of the events really only started from the Sunday before or Monday of race week.

There are some team-specific pop ups as well as general grand prix week events. Last year Heineken had a trailer that gave out free beer but sadly they didn't have it this year.

There are also lots of trailers around selling F1 merchandise - mostly team shirts, jackets, and caps. Prices are super high though. $90 for a cap...$200 for a shirt...it feels really jacked up and I've heard that if you purchase it directly from the teams pages or certain sites it is cheaper even with shipping. Even previous years' shirts are still going for like $60.

Wednesday

Arguably the biggest in town was Williams' pop up which took up a corner of a mall close to turn 9. They had 5 sim stations (you get three laps and it is free!), a reaction test station, as well as some activity with their team app where you go around the store to check in at various stations to collect badges. If you collect all the badges you get a pair of plastic Williams sunglasses. They also had quite a lot of merch and a display of some shoes from Alex's new range.

On Wednesday they had the meet and greet cum q&a session with the two drivers. To get into the m&g, staff would give out wristbands starting from 10am that morning. I had to go into work that morning, ran down at lunch time but the wristbands had already all been given out. Apparently people camped at the mall at 5 or 6am to claim their wristbands!

Anyway the same mall also had a Tommy Hilfiger pop up for Mercedes so I went to check that out. This was a lot smaller and mostly a series of photo ops, plus one sim station. There was a queue for the sim whenever I passed by so I never got to try it. They also gave out free postcards, and you can also get some stickers if you download some Tommy Hilfiger app.

I walked over to a different mall where there was a Ray Ban pop up for Ferrari where they also had a sim (1 free lap, if you make a purchase at the Ray Ban store you get another 3 laps and your fastest lap will be entered for some challenge with prizes to be won. but alas, these shades are expensive). However the highlight here has to be the full-length mirror with life-size cutouts of the two drivers in their sunglasses at the side of the frame. Amazing photo op. The pop up wasn't busy while I was there so the staffers gave me extra laps on the sim hehe.

Side track - Williams vs Ferrari sim. I dunno if the set ups have reflect anything about the actual racing cars but. The Ferrari sim had a looser steering wheel and I was crashing so much on that sim. Williams had gone ALL OUT with their set up with the full seat that's actually reclined at the angle the drivers sit at (Ferrari's was still a little high) and haptic effects and everything, and their steering wheel had a bit more resistance. I also don't know if there are any in-game settings that affect the drive. But I only crashed once on the Williams sim and found it easier to control. Or maybe it was just time of day, who knows.

After I walked to Marina Bay Sands, going along parts of the circuit in the process. The cafe in the lobby of the ArtScience Museum (the small building in front of MBS that looks like it has a hand or a lotus for a roof) had some racing-theme desserts and drinks but the menu didn't seem appealing enough at the price point so I gave it a pass. I strolled around the mall a bit - only found out at the end of the day that apparently Charles and Yuki had both been spotted that same afternoon around the mall! But sadly I did not see them. I went over to the hotel side of MBS where the SF-90(!!!) was displayed in the lobby. It had this year's livery pattern on it though. Carlos and Charles had both signed it.

Walked back to the Williams pop up and waited outside to catch a glimpse of the drivers. The team were staying at a hotel right next door so there was a walkway the drivers would come through and I got a spot there. Logan's event had already started, and we had quite a huge international crowd here. I later heard that the fans in the m&g asked him some stupid questions like "do you know the difference between km and mile" or "how does it feel to be the first f1 driver i've met" and the poor guy didn't quite know how to answer. He stopped at intervals on the way out to sign things and take photos. Then it was an hour wait for Alex's event to start and by this time, more people had ended work or school so a larger crowd had formed along the walkway. You could also see a crowd gathering outside the second entrance on the other side of the pop up, within the mall. Someone brought a giant Williams flag and was waving it around at the back.

Alex made a pretty speedy entrance down the walkway although he did stop for one or two quick pictures and signed some things for kids. Lily was there with him too! Then he entered the pop up and went over to the fans at the second entrance to sign some things for them, so the start of his m&g/qna was delayed. He finally came out like an hour plus past when the event was meant to end and stopped for EVERYONE along the walkway. I got a selfie with him :) a lot of people also wanted to say hi to Lily and she was very patient and nice.

On this night was when some people went to the track late and saw Carlos jogging around in his tank top 🔥 imagine seeing that in real life.

Thursday

Thursday afternoon had a few more public team events that I couldn't attend due to work. McLaren had an m&g with Lando, George had one with Puma, and Red Bull's drivers were expected to visit the team's Tag Hauer pop up. I heard a lot of people fainted while gathering at the RB pop up before the event because it was outdoors and the weather was just too hot.

Thursday night however was very exciting: I went to the Pit Lane Experience! This event has been going on for a few years now - on Thursday night they open part of the fan village and the pit lane while the teams may be working in the garages! The event is completely free, Singapore residents simply apply for a ballot. The tickets are given in pairs and I had no one to go with so I actually invited someone I was chatting to outside the Williams event while waiting for Alex the day before. We ran into someone they knew while in the fan village and those people had also ran into other people they knew so we ended up having this little group that went around together.

I have to say, the fan village was a tad disappointing? I don't think everything had been fully set up, but there was a store to buy merch

Already as we entered the circuit we saw Yuki whizzing by on a scooter. All the teams had people working in the garages this year (I've heard that at previous years some teams had not been around so the garages were closed) so we could all look in (they barricade it at a certain distance so you can't actually enter the garage). However, McLaren didn't have their cars in the garage so no sneak peek of the stealth livery.

Some teams even had crew members doing work at the pit wall. Lawson's car was wheeled up the pit lane at one point and then wheeled back down over an hour later.

Zhou, with his freshly announced contract, came out to greet the fans outside Alfa's garage. There was a large gathering at Ferrari's garage as the mechanics came out to practice pit stops (oh the irony) AND THEN CHARLES CAME OUT but I was too far behind in the crowd to see him 😭 he signed a few things and took a few pictures but went in pretty quickly. I waited outside the garage to see if Carlos would make an appearance too but no :( also I did not see Fusaro. You know, THAT mechanic.

Some people got glimpses of Pierre and Alex as they made their way out for track runs. Max and Fernando were seen having their seat fits. George and Esteban came out quite late on to greet fans. There was a crowd outside Red Bull that kept chanting Checo's name but he didn't make an appearance.

People were mostly waiting around outside RB, Ferrari, and Mercedes. I kept waiting outside Ferrari because I had some artwork I was hoping to give them but eventually someone got a call from a friend outside the circuit that the Ferrari and RB guys were all spotted leaving the track altogether.

I also saw pictures much later on that Lewis had also come out at some point to sign things for fans. I have no idea how that went under the radar because every time a driver appeared you would hear a cheer - as we got when George and Esteban came out late on.

Anyway knowing the Ferrari guys weren't around any more, I went to the end of the pit lane to take a look at the podium and the safety cars. As I was exiting the pit lane (although we enter in the opposite direction so this is actually at the entrance where the cars would drive in during a race), George came zooming out on his bike and he whirled around to wave at fans before starting his cycle round the track.

I forgot to take a photo with the DRS sign along the first straight.

I think around 10.30-11pm they started clearing everybody out of the track and pit lane. We saw Alex return from his run just before leaving.

RACE WEEKEND

Friday

It's Friday theeeennnnn... Of fking course I fall ill on this day. At the start of the race week. I had planned to see a few other race week pop ups before practice, maybe go back to the Merc/Tommy one to have a go on their sim and compare it to the other teams', but that was not to be. Luckily, I recovered in the late afternoon and headed out to a viewing spot.

The good thing about street circuits: if you don't have a ticket, there are lots of buildings around to watch from.

I watched FP1 and 2 from two different locations. No one around me had a stream on so I only found out the results a while after each session. Very happy with the Ferrari 1-2s and cautiously optimistic for tomorrow. In between practices, there was testing (I think) for the Porsche Carrera Cup, which was our feature series (last year we had the W series which was cool). The sounds of those cars were so different from the F1 cars, lower and a lot louder. You could almost feel them rumbling from where I was.

Saturday

I had personal commitments so wasn't able to see any of the sessions from near the track, but passed through the mall with Merc and Williams' pop ups on my way to one said commitment. Ran into one of the new friends I had made at the pit lane experience and we caught up for a bit.

Watched FP3 over dinner, went for my other commitment, which ended right around the time Lance crashed in q1. I went for supper with some people and there is one other person in that group who is also a Ferrari fan so we were both glued to our phones throughout. We couldn't make too much noise to not disturb other patrons but we were making all these tiny noises and gasps especially when Lawson improved his time to knock Max out of Q2. And then punching the air when Carlos got pole.

Sunday

I had a commitment in the afternoon and then immediately bolted to the malls so I could nab myself a good viewing spot. I went to the same spot I watched FP2 from as it is near a supermart so I could make a quick pit stop for food and drinks that needed to last me the next 6+ hours. My only mistake was I, much like Charles on a twitch stream, forgot to pee. So I had to ration my drinking before the race start.

Because I was there early, I watched the end of the Porsche race. Then we had the driver's parade! I think some of the drivers weren't expecting spectators at this part of the track because it doesn't have grandstands, but they didn't account for non-ticket holders gathering at the malls and hotels around. We were also close enough that if you yell, they might hear you, so you saw their heads all turning as they realised there were people calling out to them. A lot of people did the Piiiiieeeeerreeeee Gaslyyyyyy when he came by but I was the only one who did Nico Huuuuuuulkenberg.

Then we had to wait again before the race start and I ate my dinner. Some guys had been camping all day with proper foldable camping chairs and a large stash of mcdonalds that they were slowly making their way through.

About ten minutes before the race I tried to set up a stream on my tablet - I always do this when I go to watch the race from a viewpoint so I can still see what's happening once the cars have passed our section. However reception in that area was bad so I eventually gave up and resolved to just texting people for updates on the lap number - if I wasn't busy taking videos that is.

The viewpoint I was at, there's a linkway between two malls that the cars emerge under. It's really tall as there are some shops within the linkway itself, so your view is partially blocked. (However there's a decently long straight after that and your can make out the corner and run off area at the end if you tilt your head right.) You hear the cars approaching from the other side and hold your breath a bit wondering what order they will appear.

Because I didn't have a stream, I didn't know how the race start went. I was just praying that Carlos would get a clean start and keep his lead from George. I SCREAMED so hard when the cars emerged fro under the bridge and both red cars were at the front. That's how I knew Charles got the jump on George from lights out. I was so excited I almost didn't clock Lewis had come out in third.

Knowing my boys had a good start I half-settled a little bit - never fully because they were still so close together that I knew they would lose a lot of places when pitting. Yuki came by on the bike after his DNF. A few times I used the stopwatch on my phone to get their intervals myself, since I didn't have a stream to check it.

Some people were refreshing live blogs on their phones, plus an overseas friend texting me, and eventually word went around that Sargent had brought out the safety car. My heart fell when the pack appeared and I saw that Charles had lost places, plus Max was now right behind Carlos. I had honestly lost track of the laps so I didn't know how old the RB tyres were. Luckily, when the SC ended and we saw the cars again, Carlos was still first to emerge. We had a few overtakes or near-overtakes happen in front of us right after the safety car and everybody was really enjoying it.

Somehow, Valterri's retirement went under the radar until we saw him on the bike being escorted back to the garage. Because he has a blue helmet and Alfa Romeo also have black-based race suits, someone thought it was George at first and everyone was confused for a hot second.

Word of the VSC came around a bit late so I heard about it right as Carlos was already coming out under the bridge followed by Lando and Charles back in P3, with neither Mercs in sight. From that point, it was a nervy watch till the end watching the Merc closing the gap to Charles each time the pack came by, while Lando was keeping tail with Carlos. Once both Mercs had overtaken Charles, it felt like Carlos had managed to pull a gap on Lando. Then at about six laps to go they came by and Lando looked super close to Carlos again with the Mercs rapidly catching up too. Plus I was updated by text abotu Carlos saying on the radio that his front tyres were gone. I didn't dare film any more because I was so scared I would catch Carlos getting caught on camera. Each time I heard the cars approaching I held my breath and had to bang the railing in front of me to release the tension when Carlos still kept appearing first.

I was quite comfortable with the gap between Charles and the rest at first, but then Max got Pierre and was rapidly catching up and that made things even more nervy.

There were some screams and 'shit's around when George crashed out.

At the corner of the linkway there was an open-well staircase that was also packed with people trying to get a higher vantage point. Someone up there probably got a stream on because there was then a loud cheer - I wasn't sure if Carlos had yet crossed the line or something else had happened. Then Carlos zoomed past one last time, out in front, and everyone cheered for him, even though during the race you could hear people rooting for one driver or another. I was banging on the railing yelling YESSSSS VAMOS CARLOS VAMOS.

Surprisingly, the crowd dispersed pretty soon after. In previous years people have hung around to see the fireworks and watch the podium on whoever's device had a stream. I finally managed to pull a stream up on my phone in time to catch the top 3's interviews and just sat on the now emptier balcony watching the podium and finishing my food and drinks. Some people were also still sitting around, catching their breath. Everyone had been on their feet for near two hours getting our heart rates up. I might have cried except that I was sweating out all the moisture in my body.

And then I finally got to pee.

#singapore 2023

[misiwrites]

Mayblade Day 6

[previous: chapter 1 & 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5]

CHAPTER 6 prompt: restrain characters: hiromi, salima, max, takao, kyouju pairings: hiromi/takao, max/rei

On some stealthy occasion, Hiromi had begun to habitually chat with not just Emily but Salima and Ayaka as well between classes. Instead of hiding behind books and spending the recess doing the day’s homework in advance, she was being social. Making friends. In Hiromi’s world, the change from before was huge.

Here she was on a Wednesday morning, candidly talking about all the clubs she’d visited so far. It was becoming a game of sorts, for her to collect club experiences so the rest could hear funny stories about them. The girls were looking forward to new tales from her henceforth and she felt almost popular all of a sudden.

“How about coming to the kendo club next?” Salima then suggested, “Since you’ve been checking out so many sports ones already. We have practice every Monday and Thursday, sometimes on weekends too.”

Hiromi’s smile faltered. Digging her thumbs deep into her palms, she fought hard to not let the pang of apprehension show on her face.

“Kendo?” A nervous giggle followed. “Ahaha… Yeah, maybe. I guess it could be, um, interesting…” And, in a borderline compulsive fashion, her eyes threatened to wander in the direction of the number one most bothersome kendo connoisseur that she knew.

Luckily, Takao wasn’t at his desk. Of course he wasn’t – if he had been, she would have heard his voice, the never-ending familiar chatter coming from him and his pals’ way. That guy never, ever shut up.

The kendo club was the one club she had no plans to go check out. But how could she have said so to Salima, her freshly made friend whom she didn’t want to disappoint first thing into their budding friendship? Would Salima be mad if she didn’t go? This was exactly the problem with relationships, with people in general. It was a never-ending war of wading through the troublesome waters of needing to meet expectations, all the while not being too weird but not too boring either. Girls got gossipy the moment anyone in their vicinity did anything worth blathering about, guys pretended to be gentlemanly one moment and turned into animals the next, and she’d yet to make acquaintance with anyone in between.

Speaking of which, Hiromi again noted that Salima was uncharacteristically alone that morning. No sign of Kane in their homeroom yet. Maybe they weren’t as inseparable as she’d imagined while quietly observing the class from behind her notes every day… or maybe something had gone awry between the two.

It wasn't any of her business to be nosy about, though.

During lunch break, there was an unexpected school-wide announcement, a booming voice from the intercom stating that all students were expected to gather at the gym in fifteen minutes.

Hiromi, who had thought she’d have plenty of time to slowly enjoy her home-cooked meal and dessert pudding with a book, ended up running down the corridors while madly shoveling the chocolate pudding into her mouth; then, as she stumbled down the stairs, she dropped some on her shirt and had to waste another minute or two rushing into the nearest bathroom to rinse it off, she’d have rather died than made an appearance in front of the entire school with brown stains on her clothes.

The door she’d stormed through had not been that of a ladies’ room. This only became apparent to her when a now oddly familiar voice greeted her: “You again! Huh, we bump into each other often these days, don’t we?”

It was Max, somehow, again indeed. Washing his hands at the neighboring sink, grinning at her. This was when Hiromi realized it was the wrong bathroom and the already chaotic scene was turning worse each passing second.

“Wow, sorry. I didn’t mean to, uhh… I had an emergency.” Obvious enough – she was borderline swimming in the sink. She quietly hoped she hadn’t stormed in at an inappropriate time just then. Since when had she become such a klutz?

But Max was unfazed. He smiled that goofy smile of his and opened the door to her. “Let’s get going, we’re a minute late already.”

They weren’t the only ones. The main corridor was swarming, everyone scrambling in a mad rush due to the surprise announcement. Max was ushering Hiromi forward and, at the gym doors, said he saw where his friends were sitting and promptly steered Hiromi in their direction before him. She let him guide her, didn’t care where she’d sit so long as they'd get away from the claustrophobic crowd blocking the corridor.

But Hiromi had forgotten whom Max was friends with. A minute later, she found herself at the bleachers, squeezed tight between Max and who else but Takao. It was already too late to run or hide now; they were sandwiched, wedged in place already, the bench filling fast from both ends.

Oh, shit. Their shoulders were touching. Even their arms, elbows were touching. She hadn’t been this close to him in ten years, literally. Hiromi’s head felt hot, her brain frying under the gym’s blasting ceiling lights.

“Hey,” she heard Takao greet her – or Max, or both, or everyone. Hiromi let out some kind of guttural noise in reply that he probably couldn’t hear through the clatter; the ruckus in the gym was beastly, a roar of voices that ricocheted off the tall walls and billowed right back at them.

“Oh, Miss Tachibana,” said the surprised pipsqueak voice of Professor from beyond Takao. The shorter boy was crouching to see past his friend, as if there was something worth seeing about Hiromi sitting there. “Where did you come from?”

“I picked her up on the way,” was Max the one to reply, flashing a peace sign at the guys. This response appeased Professor, and Hiromi wondered if it was typical for the blond to go around “picking people up”. He did seem almost overwhelmingly friendly, brisk and bubbly and bouncy like a superball. Easy to like but rather hard to grasp or follow in his antics.

To her relief, the mass of noise and rumble was finally quelled by one of the student representatives taking the stage. Hiromi made herself as small as possible, drilled her eyes into the representative, and decided to ignore the alarming lack of space between her and Takao who pressed against her right side…

Don’t even think about it. Just ignore it. Pretend we’re not basically glued together right now.

…and no more than ten seconds later thought she caught the nostalgic waft of mint floating in the air. Takao had liked chewing on mint as a kid, hadn’t he? But it could as well have been anyone else in the tightly packed crowd. She mentally kicked herself and felt like sulking.

The point of the assembly turned out to be nothing more but announcing the school’s upcoming joint events. Why this warranted such a dramatic set-up and last minute announcement, Hiromi couldn’t fathom. There was a bake sale event for gathering fieldtrip funds coming up in a month’s time and each class needed students to volunteer, some to do the actual selling, some for auxiliary performances to draw more people in. The latter would be largely delegated to the applicable clubs. A few weeks after the bake sale would be the annual sports day, a big deal for the sports clubs in particular, but everyone else was encouraged to join as well. And finally, the crown jewel of the school year, the annual end-of-year ball that doubled as a themed costume party, would take place in two months. Students had three weeks to submit their ideas for this year’s party theme to the student council.

Hiromi, who hadn’t been attending any of the school’s social events so far, was dismissive about the announcements at first. Then, with crawling anticipation, began wondering if she should try and do some activities after all, now that her school life had been plunged into total turmoil anyway. A bake sale didn’t sound too bad – and she already knew her mother would want to come and support the class efforts. The sports day didn’t interest her as much but would probably be significant to Emily. And the prom… well, that one wasn’t for the likes of her. She bet it would be all about the popular people asking each other out…

Lost in thought, she’d let her eyes meander… and after a moment or a few, noted that they’d landed on the screen of a phone with strikingly orange covers that Max had been fiddling with throughout the assembly. His thumbs continued working the screen, typing a message.

She hadn’t meant to snoop on him. They just happened to be squished together shoulder to shoulder, hardly inches apart, and he was doing nothing to conceal his phone screen from preying eyes. So, in her absence of mind, she fixed her gaze on the messaging app and ended up blatantly staring at his text exchange with someone. The recipient’s name at the top said “Rei”, the round profile icon black and white and too tiny for her to make out.

Hiromi watched Max type a message: “Hey, remember when we talked about the new place that opened at the mall?” Then watched him erase it. He started over: “So, are you free tomorrow?” He hesitated for a moment. Began erasing the message, typed: “So, do you have practice tomorrow?” Then erased that as well. “So, are you with” – this one he didn’t even finish before retracting. And the next iteration began.

It was starting to feel like she was witnessing the most awkward attempt at asking someone to hang out in the history of texting. Then again, said history should probably have included herself as the number one offender. She was terrible at texting and hardly had anyone to message in the first place. At least this boy was trying.

Eventually, Max lowered the orange phone and turned the screen off without sending a thing. This snapped Hiromi out of it; she panicked, realizing what she’d been doing, and turned away. She proceeded to pretend to have been staring ahead all along, nervous sweat dampening her brow at the thought of Max catching her spying. But was he the kind of guy to mind, really? He’d been remarkably laid-back in all their interactions so far. She half expected him to crack a suave joke about it…

But he said nothing. Maybe he hadn’t noticed after all.

As soon as the assembly was over, Hiromi squirmed herself free and bolted out of there, leaving the guys to gush about the sports day among themselves. She didn’t look back – and tried not to think about the hint of mint that still lingered on the tip of her tongue and in the back of her memories.

#mayblade #mayblade 2023 #my writing #fic update

[umichenginabroad]

Madrid Week 5: I been in the kitchen, whippin, whippin (cheffin?)

Holaaaa a todxs otra vez! Niko back here with week 5 of the Madrid blog, sorry that I’m a day late :). This week’s blog will have less to do with Madrid/Spain/Europe/culture, and more to do with a little personal project of mine while abroad: learning how to cook (well).

I’ve always had cooking as a part of my life, and that’s thanks to my Mom, who always made the most delicious meals growing up from all sorts of cuisines. On a typical Sunday evening, my Mom would pick a recipe — either something new, or a family classic — and enlist me and my sister’s help in preparing it for the whole family. I learned a good amount this way: how to dice an onion, how to chop an onion into slivers, how to caramelize an onion… along with various other skills that don’t have anything to do with onions.

In high school, right before COVID hit, I decided to teach myself how to bake bread. It seemed like a kind of impossible task, of sorts — something that only professional bakers who woke up at 5am knew how do to, or grandmas who somehow always had the skill. I don’t remember how my first loaf turned out, but I’m guessing it was just good enough, because I found a new passion in baking from that point onward. I kept challenging myself to go for more complicated pastries, culminating in my proudest buttery achievement: a 3 day baking marathon that yielded some perfectly flaky homemade croissants.

In baking, I found joy in the precise imprecision of it all. 

Many people I know have told me that they see baking is a science; All of the ratios have to be perfect; There’s no room for error. While it’s true that if you add too much flour you’ll dry out your dough, or if you overload on the butter you’ll end up with a crispy puddle instead of a cookie (that also destroys your baking sheet) (speaking from firsthand experience), the more I practiced, the more I was able to bake using feeling and intuition instead of trusting a recipe. I could tell what dough felt like when it needed a little more kneading, or what it looked like when it had risen just enough. Through baking traditional Greek breads and desserts, I also found a new avenue for connection to my heritage. The gratification I received when I got a delicious final product — and one that I could share with family and friends — was all that I needed to continue having fun with the hobby.

Now, flash forward a few years, I’m a freshman in college. I’m in a dorm (Bursley T_T ), no kitchen access in sight, and eating exclusively in dining halls. Baking fell to the wayside, aside from the casual holiday cookie produced during breaks. Flash forward another year, I’ve got an apartment with a very functional kitchen — but now I’ve overloaded myself with classes and other extracurriculars, bought a dining plan, and treated mealtimes as activities to be completed as efficiently as possible so that they wouldn’t interfere with everything else I had to do in a day.

Needless to say, I wasn’t doing much baking, and the same was true with cooking — once a week I’d maybe make some dry chicken breast in a pan with some crudely chopped red bell peppers and call it a night. Last semester, fall of Junior year, at the peak of my business with school and extracurricular responsibility, I found myself in the kitchen even less.

I was satisfied with this rhythm. I enjoyed dining hall food for the most part (much to the surprise of most friends), and I really was saving time that I spent on other things. However, part of me looked at friends that were regularly home-cooking delicious, healthy meals for themselves (or for their entire co-op) and felt a pang of jealousy. Mealtime can be a sacred ritual for connection — both with yourself and with others — if you want it to be, and that was something I wanted to be able to foster.

The turning point in this cooking journey revolved around Monday night game night, the CFB championships, Michigan vs Washington. My cousin had invited me and my sister over to watch the game, with the promise that he would chef us some of his world famous confit chicken wings. My cousin is probably one of the best freehand chefs that I personally know. If you give this man some simple ingredients and a couple of spices, he’ll pull out some random cooking technique I thought only existed in high end French bistros and make some truly creative — and delicious — food, based solely on his experience and earned intuition. I think of him and flavors kind of like Remy from Ratatouille with the cheese and the strawberry, y’all know what I’m talking about.

This was the type of cooking that I had always sought after but never figured I was capable of without going to culinary school. Impressive, but something that only professional chefs who woke up at 5am knew how to do, or grandmas who just always had the skill…

Before leaving my cousin’s house (and after Michigan had won the natty 😎), I asked him how he learned to cook freehand so well. He told me that, although he had always been around cooking in his family, his skills truly blossomed when he was abroad in London for a year — when he was forced to cook for himself. He mastered simple dishes, without using recipes — pan seared chicken breast, roasted vegetables — which served as a launching pad to trying more and more complicated dishes, each time committing the cooking experience (and result) to memory and drawing upon it for the next plate.

So, flash forward to present day. Essentially, I said “Bet.”

I’ve got a bunch more time now that I’m abroad, and groceries here are significantly cheaper — meaning I can get more ingredients at a higher quality and set aside a few hours to truly explore. The first week or two, I was pretty much just doing chicken and red bell peppers, and maybe some rice. But since then, I’ve started exploring a little more — risotto, Bolognese, spatchcock chicken, basted steak — and the process has been incredibly enjoyable. I can feel some sense of intuition forming, and I find myself relying on recipes less and less with each meal cooked — having my baking experience as a backdrop gives me confidence that I'm on the right path.

dishes from my first week or two cooking freehand

Those that know me well know that I find a lot of pleasure in learning a new skill. To be honest, I do a lot of random stuff that doesn't really have much of a common thread, which is why I’m somewhat of a “Jack of All Trades, Master of None”. Cooking freehand is the newest addition to that list of random skills, but I think it’s one that’s here to stay. Not only is it fun and delicious, but incredibly utilitarian. 

In the words of my cousin: “It means you’ll never have to eat bad food... Not everyone wants your homemade candles or scarves, but everyone can f*ck up a home cooked meal.” 

Facts.

The biggest item on my food to-cook list is to make Avgolemono soup with homemade chicken broth, which is a Greek soup dish that holds a special place in my heart — one that my grandma made all the time. Stay tuned for the results in a future blog. Per usual, check out the image descriptions for a little inside scoop on the meals I've cooked so far.

In other news this week, I saw one of my favorite DJs Interplanetary Criminal, continued on with classes, and some friends from Arlington VA, my hometown, visited for the weekend from their other study-abroad-cities in Europe (including Emma, who's house I stayed at in Granada!).

See you all again next week!

Hasta ahora,

Niko Economos

Aerospace Engineering

Universidad Carlos III de Madrid

Madrid, Spain

#UmichEnginAbroad #IPEUC3M #NikoEconomos #IPEWinter24 #Spain

[patrice-bergerons]

here, have this very self-indulgent Bond & Mansfield | M h/c I wrote for myself-

~*~

It is an odd sight, M sitting in the corner in one of those comically uncomfortable chairs, hunched over an exceptionally large binder spread over an exceptionally small table.  Practically a tableaux out of a sitcom, and, Bond observes, probably a sign that he is at death’s door, if she is going around turning hospital rooms into offices.

“Not at all,” she says, looking up, and Bond realises he must have said that last bit out loud.  “You are perfectly fine, 007.”

Her expression would make you think Bond suggested letting gin flow out of the taps at Six.  (Which, now there is a thought.)

“Right-” he cranes his neck against the pillow to get a better look at her.  “You were just hankering for some Jell-O on this fine Monday evening.”

It is Monday because she is dressed in business clothes, the sharp suit and impeccable makeup complementing her innate authority.  Bond takes some comfort in this—he would have started planning his funeral in earnest had he found M in a t-shirt and a jacket by his bedside, holding his hand.

“It is the one dessert I can never resist,” M replies dryly.  

As she swaps her corner office for a seat by his bed, Bond takes further stock of his predicament.  He can’t see much out the window from the bed but the internal decor of the room does not match MI6’s Medical department—a proper hospital then.  He is not in any real amount of pain and his vitals seem fine but his muscles feel like they are made out of Jell-O and his head is filled with cotton.  Last he remembers—he strains to remember—ah yes, he was bleeding out on the floor of his favourite bar.  On Sunday night.  

Bugger.

“I lost a day?”

M passes him some water which he accepts gladly.  

Except this turns out to be one of her devious tricks to distract her victim:  “two.  It is Tuesday night.”  

Tuesday night.  She must see something in his expression because she quickly adds, “oh don’t look at me like that.  You will make a full recovery.  Back in the field in a month.”

Bond interrogates her face for a sign that she is lying but she looks like her usual glowing self—stern and vaguely cross, as if Bond has greatly inconvenienced her by choosing this room, her office, to have a lie down in alone.  When he is satisfied, he groans.

“A month.”

“You really are insufferable when you are injured.”

He smiles.  Maybe too openly.  Maybe for too long.  But he has been shot and drugged and he deserves a little bit of fun for compensation.

“I’m your favourite double-0 agent, aren’t I?” he asks, still smiling.

“You flatter yourself,” comes the terse response.

“You didn’t even visit 003 when he was shot last month.”

“003 barely spent a day in Medical.”

“You were worried about me.”

“You are heavily drugged so I will do us both a favour and not dignify that with a response.”

That’s M, alright.  His M.  Who took her work and brought it here just so she could be there when he woke up. 

“Will you hold my hand?”

Wait.

M looks at him in mild horror, as if Bond sat up and snogged her.  He has meant it as a joke, obviously, but it comes out-  And when he looks down he finds his elbow propped up on the bed, thrusting his outstretched hand towards M, entirely of its own volition.

He really is drugged.  

He stares at his bloody, rebellious limb until it finally yields, and then, in not his finest display, he closes his eyes shut, trying to ride the wave of embarrassment all but pulling him under.

He really asked M to hold his hand.  He can hear the heart monitor announcing his shame to the world one angry beep at a time.  Christ.

“Christ,” M echoes softly.

“Just go,” Bond tells her without opening his eyes.  Just go and let me lick my wounds in peace.

Except.

Then something extraordinary happens.  

Two hands envelop his own; they are old and warm and dry.  Gentle, firm—an anchor in the storm.  Bond lets out a shaky breath.  When he opens his eyes a tear rolls down his cheek.  He wants to roll right down under the bed.  He feels so tired.  He feels-

“You are alright,” M says quietly, reaching out to wipe his cheek.  She lets her hand linger there, cupping his face, and she is frowning but her eyes say- you are alright.  

Bond gives her the best smile he can conjure—a grimace.  He tries to think of something witty to say but all he can think of is how good, how welcome her hands feel, holding his.  Holding him in place.

In the end, it is M who breaks the silence.  

“You are right, you know,” she says conspiratorially, a fond glint in her eyes.

“I usually am,” Bond manages, keeping his voice steady, even.

“I would have never done this for 003.” 

“I won’t tell him that.”

She squeezes his hand and he squeezes back.

“Now get some sleep,” M orders, and Bond thinks- it’s high time he listened to one of those.

#james bond #olivia mansfield #my fic #i have zero excuse for this #except i deserve it LOL

[crazyblondelife]

Garden Party on a Plate - Fresh Tuna Salad

I’ve been making this Fresh Tuna Salad for as long as I can remember and it’s always a hit! I’m going to be honest and say that I would call it a Tuna Niçoise Salad but I totally forgot the olives and it was still so delicious! It’s a little untraditional because of the cherry tomatoes, but I love the freshness that they add. I sprinkled micro greens (my new obsession) over the top of the salad along with a little red onion for color.

If you’re serving a crowd, this salad is so easy to put together and it’s all you need other than a good crunchy loaf of bread and maybe dessert. The day I made this salad, it was raining and miserable out so I seared the tuna in a cast iron skillet, but usually I grill it…either way it’s delicious. Be sure to buy the freshest tuna you can find and leave it a little pink in the middle. Also…roast your potatoes so they have some crunch and don’t forget the flaky sea salt (I buy Maldon Sea Salt in bulk)!

{"image":"https://i.imgur.com/LWco5Ua.png","name":"Fresh Tuna Salad","prepTime":"PT20M","cookTime":"PT20M","totalTime":"PT40M","description":"This delicious recipe also makes a beautiful presentation!","yield":"As many as you like!","author":{"@type":"Person","name":"Suzanne Smith"},"recipeIngredient":["Fresh tuna steaks - I used albacore tuna","Baby lettuces","Small tricolor potatoes","Green beans","Olive oil","Salt and freshly ground black pepper","Garlic salt","Cherry tomatoes","Thinly sliced red onion","Hard cooked boiled eggs","Micro greens (any kind will do)","Mustard vinaigrette - homemade or bottled (recipe below)","For the mustard vinaigrette...In a small bowl, whisk together 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard, 4 tablespoons white wine vinegar, a pinch of salt and pepper and 1/3 cup olive oil."],"recipeInstructions":["Drizzle potatoes with olive oil, salt, pepper and garlic salt. Roast in a 400 degree oven for about 20 minutes or until crisp and brown.","Prepare the green beans in the same way and roast for about 10 minutes or until they reach desired doneness. I like mine still a little crisp.","Drizzle tuna steaks on both sides with olive oil, salt and pepper. Sear in a very hot cast iron skillet until medium rare - no more than about 5 minutes total for medium rare tuna.","Arrange baby lettuces on a large platter. Slice tuna steaks after they have cooled slightly. Arrange tuna, green beans and roasted potatoes on the lettuces and garnish with halved cherry tomatoes, thinly sliced red onion, sliced eggs and micro greens. Drizzle dressing over all and enjoy!"],"@context":"http://schema.org","@type":"Recipe"}

You can see what a beautiful presentation this salad makes so it’s perfect when you want to impress your guests! As with everything…make it your own by adding a little goat cheese or anything else that sounds good to you and…don’t forget the olives!

Last week was a very busy one! My oldest daughter turned 37 on Monday and we had everyone for birthday dinner and I hosted my book club here on Thursday night for dinner. On Friday, I attended the Art in Bloom exhibit at the Museum of Art in Raleigh and yesterday, went back to Raleigh for lunch at Rosewater Kitchen and Bar (highly recommend) and shopping with my daughter for her birthday! It was a jam packed but really fun week and I’m so behind on everything! I hope you all are having a fabulous weekend! Don’t forget to keep those comments coming!

Thanks for reading today!

#Salad recipe #composed salad #Tuna Salad

[parkers-gal]

Hi. I was wondering if u could do a Tom x reader story where y/n will randomly show up on set of avengers with a bouquet of flowers and give them to Tom and the rest of the crew members are going on about how cute that is. I don’t know if u are still taking requests but if u are I would love to see this. Or where the reader will just randomly show up with cute little gifts for Tom and everyone thinks it’s super cute ?

hiii hope u like this :):

wc: 1.4k <3

something sweet

—

The fresh scent of flowers wafts through your nose and brings a soft smile to your face. You’re outside the building that houses Tom, a small card and a bouquet of flowers in your hands. You’re merely dropping off a small message to Tom whilst he’s on set, just to let him know that you’re thinking of him.

You’ve been going out for about a month and a half, nothing exclusive and nothing labeled, but he’s the only person you’re going on dates with, and you’re the only person he’s going on dates with. It’s pretty exclusive, to be real.

And, it’s the second time this week you’re dropping a gift off at set for him. On Monday it was his favorite chocolate bar and a cute Spider-man pen, and today it’s a card and flowers. You’ve been dropping things off for about three weeks now. Even the security guards recognize you now.

Strolling up to the entrance of the building labeled “SET THREE,” you smile at the security man you’re approaching.

“Hi, Oliver.”

“Hey, Y/N. Here to see Tom?”

“Yep,” you smile and rock back and forth on your toes.

Oliver nods, says something into his walkie-talkie, and hands you a temporary pass to grant you clearance. “Tell the folks I said ‘hello.’”

You smile at the discreet mention of Tom and nod shyly. The electronic lock lights up green and the door unlocks. You swing it open, dress flowing while you walk through the familiar corridors. You pass Rachel on your way, and you give her a quick hug before continuing your journey.

By some chance of luck, you happen to reach set just as the director calls for a five minute break. Tom is pleasantly surprised to find you by his personal table set up in a corner of the room.

“Y/N?”

“Oh, hi,” you smile.

“Hey, darling. What’re you doing?” his hand goes to the small of your back, and he finally gets a glance at what you’re setting up on the table. A smile creeps up onto his face as he sees the fresh flowers resting on the table, and your handmade card standing upright. “Awh,” he looks at you with doe eyes. “Another gift?”

You shrug bashfully, and Tom pulls you closer so he can kiss your temple.

“You’re so sweet.”

You scrunch your nose up. “Maybe.” He giggles and you do too. “Just wanted to say hello before my lunch break ends.” Tom nods.

“‘M glad I got to see you.”

You mirror his smile. Unbeknownst to both of you, the lighting crew is discussing how cute the two of you are, and how ridiculously sweet you are. They’ve kept mental records of the gifts you’ve given Tom. Even if it’s just his favorite tea order and some banana bread, they all find it romantic. Even the directors find it adorable. It seems as if the entire crew thinks your relationship with Tom is the epitome of romance.

“Okay, well I should be heading out.”

“Okay,” Tom smiles. “Drive safe, okay?”

You hum and nod, and Tom gives your temple one last kiss before he’s waving you out.

And then, you repeat the same thing two days later, on Friday. You’d gotten off work early, thanks to your boss, so you decide to be extra special today and pick up a fresh batch of cookies from your favorite bakery downtown, perhaps maybe the entire crew could use a little snack. You manage to get Tom a coffee order and a small fidgeting toy to distract himself.

You find Oliver outside the entrance as always, and he’s delighted to see you again.

“Back again, Y/N?”

“You know it,” you smile before your eyes light up. “Oh! Can I offer you a cookie?” You open the package and hold out the assortment. Oliver’s face lights up and, with a grateful smile, he takes one and a napkin.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he smiles as if you’ve been longtime friends, and the feeling makes you warm in happiness. “Here’s your pass. Tell the crew I’ve said ‘hello.’’ You nod again and you walk through the door that Oliver has so nicely opened for you. Strolling through those same corridors, you don’t pass many people, which is only peculiar on the days that aren’t busy. So, as you reach the end of the hallway where the set door is, you find the red light above the door blinking rapidly, telling you that they’re in the middle of an important scene. You wait only over a minute before the light dies out and you open the door.

Rachel is the first person you see, and she smiles at you tiredly. You’re guessing it’s been a long, slow day. Arriving at the food table, you notice how bare it is, also assuming that the snacks have run low as the day had gone on.

You smile when you see a new vase set up as if someone was expecting new flowers to come in. You pluck one from a vase on the far end of the table, place it in the vase, and set up the freshly baked cookies. You lay out the napkins with a smile, and Rachel comes over to you just as you’re finishing up.

“Hey, Y/N. Tom’s been pretty busy today.”

“Oh! That’s okay,” you grin. “These are for everyone.”

“Aw,” she glances down at the delicious-looking desserts. “Then count me in. May I?”

You step aside so you’re not blocking the platter. “Be my guest.”

As you step aside, your foot hits a chug of unopened lemonade, and you find the dispenser empty. Connecting the dots, you reach for the lemonade, and with minimal assistance from Rachel, you refill the lemonade dispenser.

You’ve been onset for about ten minutes now, and over fifteen people have already plucked their cookies. Still, no sign of Tom.

“No work today?”

“Got off early,” you tell her. She nods.

“How jealous I am.”

You chuckle and rub your arms. “Seems pretty harsh down here.”

“Eh,” she shrugs. “Just slow.”

Just then, the scene ends and Tom is striding towards the food table.

“Thank god the lemonade is ref- Y/N!” He practically runs over. “What’re you doing here?” Both of his hands grab yours.

It’s occurred to you that you’re standing in front of the platter of cookies, so you once again move to the side so Tom can see them. “Just dropping something off.”

“You’re so sweet,” he pouts. “You didn’t have to get that for everyone.”

“Eh,” you laugh, “looks like you all could use something sweet.”

“I can’t tell if you’re talking about the cookies or yourself,” he nuzzles your nose.

“Yo, are those cookies?” Matthew from soundcheck interrupts.

“Yup,” Tom smiles proudly. “Y/N brought them in.”

“That’s dope. Can I have one?” He looks at you, and you nod with a laugh.

“Of course.”

“That’s so nice,” he waves at the two of you. “Off to work again.”

“Have I mentioned how much I love having you on set?” Tom grips your hands a little tighter. You smile at the boy.

“No, you have not.”

“Well, I think everyone agrees with me when I say you’re a great person to have around.”

“Is that so, Holland?” You tease. He rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Just sayin’ thank you.”

“I know,” you pull him in so you can hug him.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“Maybe this means you can finally ask her to be your girlfriend,” Rachel cuts in.

Tom’s mouth drops open in unamusement and you laugh at him. Rachel shrugs sheepishly, knowing she isn’t wrong.

“Now, now,” you usher her, “He’s still flowering. Let him go on his own pace.”

The two of you burst out into laughter and Tom scoffs at the fact that you’re ganging up on him.

“Whatever,” he says, pulling you in so he can kiss your forehead. “I’ll see you tonight, girlfriend?”

Your grin widens. “Okay… boyfriend.”

#tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland blurb #tom holland fluffy imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fics #fic #fic rec #tom holland fluffy #tom holland x reader insert

[kkusuka]

HQ poly Headcannons  pt. 2

Poly Headcannons <3  part 1 

pairs: Oikawa & Ushijima, Hanamaki & Matsukawa, Suna & Osamu, Kita & Aran, iwaizumi & Kyotani, and Oikawa & Kageyama

nsfw and sfw

Oikawa Tooru & Ushijima Wakatoshi

Sfw

This was an interesting match up

Considering the fact that Tooru can barely stand sharing you sometimes, they seem to make it work!

You were most likely Ushiwaka’s girlfriend, and Tooru just couldn't stand for that

Well at first he didn't really know that fact

He met you in the stans after an Alders game that he 100% wasn't there to spy on Toshi or to see how much better he got, no way

But luckily, you the beautiful angel of light, sat next to him to cheer for Waka’s team!

So after the game when Tooru was flirting with you and you completely ignored him to go to your boyfriend, Oikawa was more than let down

And you ignored him for the brick wall???? He just didn't understand.

Now he wanted you more than he did when he saw you, even more so that you belonged to the bastard Ushiwaka.

After almost 8 months of befriending you, he finally weaseled into your relationship! And Ushiwaka was so whipped for you he let it happen!

But at that point, he was so whipped for you that he didn't even care that they shared you!

Your guy’s dynamic is a bit twisted and hard to get a good understanding of.

Where Tooru makes it painfully aware to everyone that the two of you are dating, Wakatoshi is like a silent predator

He’s silent but deadly, and you’ve known him for far longer. That means he knows what you really like.

It's simple, he let’s tooru take you on extravagant dates and all that meaningless stuff.

But Ushiwaka is always there waiting at home to cuddle and watch a ton of movies with, he even lets you climb on him and cuddle him like a big teddy bear

Nsfw

This is one of the pairs that I think you're fucked in

It’s a silent competition of who can wreck you worse

Unlike some other Oikawa pairs, I truly believe that Oikawa would top

But Wakatoshi is also a top, a big man who has big needs

This ends up with you most likely with a two cocks one hole situation

If not that, it's the classic split roasts or Eiffel tower!

Oh to have Ushiwaka reaming you with Tooru in your mouth, yeah it's not as peaceful and soft as it sounds

But it’s still worth it

It starts softly! Then they go harder to try and beat the other! Then they really just treat you like a fleshlight.

Thankfully Tooru knows good aftercare techniques

But you still can’t walk for a while

“You can cum for me, show Toshi why you like better, go ahead”  

“You stretch so good for me, even after Tooru’s turn, you're always so tight”

“Look at her little clit, did Ushiwaka not pay enough attention to it? That’s ok! Tooru’s gonna make it all better for you!”

Hanamaki Takahiro & Matsukawa Issei

sfw 

Let's be real here, you met them at a spencers or a sex shop in a mall.

But it was a cute meetup!

After that, you guys just seemed to keep bumping into each other and became close friends

The initial relationship was started by Makki, he was the more open of the two so it made sense

And it’s been smooth sailing from then on

The amount of inside jokes you guys have is almost ridiculous, everywhere you go in the city you have a joke

You guys spend almost every waking moment with one another

One of their favorite things is to take you shopping, so you can do a little fashion show for them with anything you want to try on!

As in them make you try on revealing outfits for them

Dates normally would include random dinners at restaurants them a movie night/ sleepover

Like you guys would just stay up an fool around for hours on hours

They literally have no problems sharing and are always making sure you're perfectly ok with everything they do.

Nsfw

As expected you guys are very adventurous

Daddy Matsun got you and Makki covered

Well that's when Makki isn't trying to ream you into the couch

They both like toys, like a lot, a lot

Punishment is where the toys really shine, but you can't really call the toy punishment, punishment because you feel really good during it.

And it the most repeated thing you guys do

Mattsun’s the punishment dealer, so he’ll give you the biggest dildo that you guys have, no lube, he’ll tie your arms up and make you try to get down on it

BUT if he’s feeling a bit more punishing, he’ll set up a vibrator and set it to your little clit and turn it ALLLL the way up

But if that isn't enough, he will either let Makki in your ass, or the fuck machine will come out

They really love watching you try to get off, it does two things

1-  it gives them new ideas

2- it shows how much you need them, and their cocks in your little aching holes

This lead to them having you wear plugs in public, which moved to wearing a vibrator

Sometimes, they make you wear a mask, but under the mask

(come here)

(closer)

(closer)

They make you wear a ball gag under your mask

Good babies do what their daddies tell them too <3

“Look ‘Kawa, her hole is so tight she can barely fit both of us, just relax baby. They’ll get in, we’ll make sure of it”

“Makki, spread her legs wider, don't let her his from this”

“Don't make me gag you brat, you’re lucky Makki is in good mood, huh?”

Suna Rintaro & Osamu Miya

The way you got together was like love at first sight  

For both of them too

You met Osamu first, you were seated next to him at an Italian cooking class

You guys had joked around and he was so impressed by your cooking that he got your number!

(he won't tell you but he had already sent pictures of you to Suna, and he was doing it allllllllll night)

He immediately invited you to Onigiri Miya, where you met Mr. Rintarou

Who was already practically in-love with you just from pictures.

You were clearly drawn to them, they were so cool!

They made a big scene of asking you out too

They both took you to one of the best restaurants in the city and had a private balcony dinner

After dessert they took both of your hands and asked you, in sync nonetheless, you do wonder how long it took for them to figure out how to do that

Clearly, you said yes, and that was the first of the many great memories you have with the two!

Since they both have pretty busy schedules they can't always come to you, so you go to them!

Even if they assured you that you didn't have to work, that never stops you from taking up shifts and Onigiri Miya on Monday and Fridays, (sometimes on Wednesdays if Osmau relents)

Even when you do work, you make time to make and bring Suna lunch every time he has all day practice

(you make them both lunch every day, but they can get it themselves, they are grown men, and you serve no one)

Traditional dates are less common, you guys mostly just like to hang out with each other

Like 3 am cooking challenges and asking to get ice cream from the shop down the road

You guys also, when you can, just spend hours cuddling in your bed or on the couch just in each other's arms

(can you tell i’m uwu-ing)

Nsfw

For having a busy schedule you guys sure do have time to fuck

A common theme is having Samu fuck you when Suna watches

God, watching you fall apart around his best friends dick will never get old, so so pretty when you're all fucked out and begging for him too

Sometimes hell have you suck him off, but he isn't unstable he can wait his turn~

Osamu works just as hard as he does, he has to let oust some stress and, you're just so good at making them feel better

Remember the cuddling?

Yes, that's a guise to cockwarm you, let them relax you always feel so good and today was s stressful

I can tell you saw this coming but, Suna likes to put whipped cream all over you, it gives him an excuse to eat you out for hours and Osamu and excuse to have you naked and able to eat as much whipped cream as he wants

Do they like double penn.?

Yes, very much so ma’am.

Just know that you are stuffed at any available moment they can manage

*cough*  whipped  *cough*

“look she’s grinding into like a circus whore huh ‘Samu? go harder” 

“look into the camera baby, tell them all the things you’d love for them to do to you” 

Iwaizumi & Kyoutani

This was an interesting one for sure

A senpais pretty girlfriend thing too

Iwaizumi knew Mad Dog had a crush on you before he did, and he did everything in his power to deny the accusation

The entire team could see how the second year was calm and behaved when you were around, so taking the high road

Iwaizumi came a with a plan: bring you and Kyotani as close as possible

All with consent firm you and knowing he was ok with anything that would happen

Suddenly inviting him to hang out with the two of you

Then it was letting him have you in his lap while you watch movies

And that progressed into letting him cuddle you after bad days, never  without Iwa of course

Everyone on the team could tell the effects that it was having on him, he was calmer and easier to get along with.

He even started listening to Oikawa when he spoke, it was like a miracle.

And k\Kyotani finally got enough courage to tell you!

(you had pretty much known, but wanted him to say it himself)

Thus began what I would call that “Kyotani learns how to love” saga

Dates were first, they both took you to a small field of flowers to have a picnic and when it got dark out you guys set up a sheet and watched a movie!

For the both of them being temperamental, they got along really well

(mostly because Kyotani hangs off nay words you or Iwaizumi say)

You also make the both of them lunch and some afternoon snacks for practice!

(and if anyone who sees you guys, they’ll never mention how odd the two angry boys look next to their sweet little princess)

Nsfw

Sir Iwaizumi holds the torch

He’s the main dominant force, though Kyotani tries oh he does

Yeah, hate to say it but you bottom for them, every time.

A big thing is when he lets Kyo get you alone (while he watches)

Yeah maybe he lets kyo take over every once in a while, he’ll let him have you

Iwaizumi love having you under him, putting you in the mating press while Kyo watches from a chair a vibrator tied to him, just watching until Iwa finishes and leys Kyo try and breed you

You guys have also dedicated hours to getting you stretch enough to take both of them in one hole, but if not that then one hole for each of them will do

As you could imagine, they both love marking you up

You always come out of sex looking beat up

Most of the bruises are on your neck and inner thighs, but the bites on your nipples and the curve of your ass beg to differ

Now the real question is when Kyo is being bad!

Feathery kisses all over him, that's not where he wants your mouth, lower go lower

Don’t leave him!

He always learns his lessons after hours of waiting Iwa breed you

You being bad?

No cumming for a week, they can play with you but unless you want the time to get longer you don’t even think about orgasming.

“Calm down Kentaro, it’s too early to break her, we just got started.”

“Yeah i let Hajime have you but you still belong to me too, don’t forget that”

Kita Shinsuke  & Aran Ojiro

This was the perfect girl next door story!

Middle school aran was so thankful to have you calm him down after yet another Miya twins episode

So as the two of you grew up it was natural that you became friends with his friends!

Namely his bestfriends- Kita!

Who was practically at your feet the second you met

From first to third year, they both grew to REALLY like you

They were both ready to spend the rest of their lives with you and were prepared to share if you wanted that.

The day you guys all got together was when they lost to Karasuno at nationals

You guys went back you the hotel room and just sat, cooing how well they did and how great they were no matter the outcome

It wasn't out of the normal for them to be all over you, both of them got a hand, but Aran was nestled into your lap and Kita was snuggled into your chest

Nothing was planned either, at that moment they knew that it was their chance!

The look on their faces when you said that you felt the same!

From then on you were treated even more like a queen

Every Monday before school one of them gets you a bouquet of flowers for the week and the other comes up with a date idea!

You're involved in the dates cycle and that now have a pile of stuffed animals that you got them from things like festivals or the mall

Since your relationship started with a cuddle, it's a favorite between you guys

A movie and some take out. Making fun of the Miya twins, and when Kita won’t admit it, you guys watch a rom-com, where you and Aran laugh at Kita's confused face when he doesn't understand the joke

Even with all of that, the real favorite between you guys is staying after practice and just having fun while cleaning up.

They just wuvvv uuuuuuuuu <3

Nsfw

Even if Kita is the commanding voice, Aran id the driving force

Kita likes when you two put on a show for him

Not that it's hard, even if Aran wasn't half as good as he was, your faces could satisfy him until his dying days.

Speaking of shows, Kita is a dictator, which means punishments

One of his favorites is having you finger fuck yourself in front of him and Aran until you can't move

Another is tying you up at having you watch the both of them jerk off to seeing you try and get off by grinding on the sheets (which does not work)

Aran, whether he admits it or not, he took a page out of Suna’s book

His entire hidden photo album is of you either being fucked by him or sucking Kita off

He also has an entire recorded version do you guys fucking that he and Kita watch when you aren't home

When Kita does have you to himself he takes on the Dom/Sub kinda thing

Aka borderline pet play

You sit and listen to him and what he says like a good pet, and you get a reward!

He dresses you up in little white dresses and he has you kneel in front of him and cockwarm him while he works

When Aran has you alone he takes the chance toooooo

….

…

…

..

Breed you!

Like a good little girl!

You take his cum so so well, don't you!

Yes yes, you do!

“Don’t let her walk all over you Aran, breed her like a good cow” (i had to, I really did)

“You look so pretty stretched around my cock, you're a good breeding whore, right? Yes, you are!” 

Oikawa Tooru & Tobio Kageyama

This was a classic “in love with my senpais pretty girlfriend” kinda thing

Kags didn't mean to

He had known you from middle school and had a huge crush on you, but he knew that was as far as it would go

But when you came up to him after the game with seijoh and told him that he would have better luck next time

It was the hug that got him and in true Kageyama fashion he just couldn't help the words that fell from his mouth

“Thank you, you're still really pretty, and I've always loved you!”

Silence………………………………….

He couldn't even apologize because Oikawa was already on you yelling at him about never letting you near Kageyama again.

Yeah you had calmed both of them down, telling Tooru that he was overreacting and Kageyama was harmless to your relationship

After a few days of silence, you had invited Kageyama to have a “talk” with you and Oikawa

It was really just talking about feelings and ultimately Oikawa admitting that he was willing to give it a try, but you were his first and foremost and that won’t change

But you were quick to realize that they were actually really good together

The rivalry between the two always kept you on your toes and fueled both of their superiority complexes

Dates were always happening all the time, anther constant competition for you to like one of them better than the other

It's mostly movies and take out but its a date nonetheless

One thing they love to do is try to teach you how to play, all the time they try to get you to hit their sets

Even if you're awful at it, they appreciate you trying to learn more about their greatest passion.

You also try to go to as many of their practices as you can manage, they really love having you there to cheer them on!

Nsfw

Ok so at first Kageyama had absolutely no idea what to do, so some exploring was mandatory

Finding out he was a switch was a happy surprise!

That leads to things going two ways!

You could have Tooru taking his throne in the bedroom and he commands his two peasants to do exactly what he wants them too

This can include just regular soft sex with your little tobio gazing and longing for him, while tooru watches

Or

Tooru will have the two of you grinding, Tobio with a cock ring and you a strict order to no cum until told.

Or maybe he’ll have the two of you ride dildos, tied up and making a pretty show for him

Or you could have Tobio dictating both of you

This is mostly having you ride him while Toru watches, but he can't touch

It also might be Tooru eating you out and kags in your mouth, fucking your face. <3

Whenever either of the boys wins something you take all the time in the world and worship him as he deserves!

“Aw! Tobio I know you can go faster than that! Oh ho ho, ~ y/n I know you aren't about to cum! I didn't give you the go-ahead! Hold on, baby!”

“Tooru you look so weak. You haven't even touched her and you're ready to cum.”

“You look so pretty under me, Tobio~ let me and Tooru take care of you!”  

#oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #kita shinsuke #kita x reader #aran ojiro #aran x reader #aran ojiro x reader #issei matsukawa #matsukawa x reader #hanamaki takahiro #hanamaki x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwazumi x reader #kyotani kentaro #kyotani x reader #kyotani kentaro x reader #maddog x reader #suna rintarou #suna x reader #osamu miya #osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader

[dollslayer]

Botanical Interest - In Bloom

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x florist!Reader

Summary: Steve comes home to you angry after a rough day at work. He made a promise to keep his work life separate but can he keep it?

W/C: 4,103

Warnings: Angst, mentions of past abuse, smut, swearing, alcohol consumption

A/N: Hi there! A part three for our soft mob Steve and his lovely florist. Thank you so much to everyone that has shown interest in my work so far, if you like it please reblog and comment!! You can also check out my other stuff if you haven't yet. Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

_____________

When Steve Rogers had asked you to be his girlfriend you knew there was a weight attached to it. A long talk over a stack of waffles and a couple of beers left Steve with a ‘yes’ and some ground rules.

After the incident in the alleyway you both agreed that he left his work at the door whenever you spent time together. Steve’s profession has made you uneasy since you met him and you two couldn’t avoid it forever.

A month later and you’ve managed to avoid conflict for the most part. Nothing as bold as that day in the alley, just small moments where he’d have to take a phone call, once when he had to cancel your plans for a ‘work incident’. But still he really was trying to keep his work and personal life separate and you appreciated it.

It had bothered you that he had to do those things but it’s not as though your work hadn’t impacted your time together either. Being a florist meant a lot of late nights when you worked events. Wedding season in full swing, every weekend was a busy one for you.

That’s why Monday’s have become almost sacred to you, your one day off a week. You and Steve always spent time together, sometimes you’d go out or stay home and just relax.

This Monday Steve had promised to come over and make you dinner. He’d only ever tried to cook for you once and it had ended with a lasagna burnt so badly you had to open every window in the apartment just to get the charred smell out. You couldn’t wait for him to redeem himself and take him to bed after you both came out of your food comas.

You were cleaning the kitchen when you heard your phone buzz. You had asked Steve if he wanted you to pick up any groceries since you had the day off. Expecting a list you were met with mild disappointment.

Running a little late, doll. 6:30 and not a minute later, I promise. Don’t worry about groceries. I'll get it all taken care of, just enjoy your day off.

You were kinda miffed but at least he gave you a heads up and he was going to get the groceries. You picked your sponge back up and scrubbed away at the counter.

________

Expecting to be let down, you were pleasantly surprised when 6:30 rolled around and your doorbell sounded. You buzzed him up and waited patiently for him at your door.

Steve appeared as he rounded the corner and he looked exhausted, irritated maybe. He carried a lot of tension in his shoulders and his suit jacket was long gone. His tie was undone and his sleeves were rolled up to where you could see well toned forearms. You bit your lip thinking of those arms holding you in place in bed.

Maybe we should just ditch the dinner and skip straight to dessert.

He approached you and you leaned up to give him a kiss.

“Hi, honey. How are you?” You greeted him as you shut the door behind you.

He set the groceries down onto the counter with some force and you winced. Okay so he did have a rough day. Do I ask him about it? I don’t wanna talk about his work but I don’t want him to feel like he can’t talk to me about his day.

He sighed and turned to face you, took his tie off completely and ran a hand through his hair.

“Don’t worry about it” he responded as he took a beer out of your fridge.

You were off-put by the abruptness of his answer. Maybe he was just short with you because he didn’t want to talk about work.

You stepped closer and tried to approach him again.

“I-“

“I said don’t worry about it.” Steve snapped, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped the screen, visibly annoyed. “I gotta take this”. He slammed the door to your bathroom shut behind him and left you stunned in the middle of your kitchen.

What just happened? You had never seen him so upset aside from when you caught him mid-punch a month ago with Mr. Andersen.

Realistically you knew it wasn’t you he was mad at but you’d never done well with people when they were mad at you. You were engaged years ago to a man that was abusive towards you. Things had started off well like they always do but he became manipulative and he was quick to anger. You were constantly questioned and criticized. He kept you from seeing your friends, even some of your family. It took your friends coming through for you to get you out of the situation safely. Through lots of therapy and flinging yourself headfirst into your business you’ve come a long way but sometimes you had difficult moments.

It couldn’t be helped as your heart began to quicken and you felt heat come to your face from the embarrassment of being snapped at. Unsure what to do you poured yourself a glass of wine and sat down at your small dining table facing away from the bathroom.

You were trying to get yourself to not shut down in response to his change in mood but it was hard. He’s upset and clearly irritated with me already, he probably just wants to go home. Maybe you should just reschedule. Don’t cry, if you cry you’re gonna make it a whole Thing. Don’t cry. He’s not mad at you specifically and it’s not your fault.

In the torrent of your thoughts you didn’t hear the bathroom door open. Steve hadn’t spared you a glance or a word as he started unloading the groceries. Angrily placing a jar of pasta sauce onto your counter with a thud and muttering under his breath. You watched him timidly and took another sip of your wine.

He turned to you and took another swig of his beer.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? What did I do?” He challenged.

Not wanting him to be upset with you, you devolved into old ways of over-explaining so you could justify your actions. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the rational part was telling you it’s not your fault he’s angry and you don’t owe an explanation but you were too far gone.

“I, I just, you didn’t do anything you just, um, you just looked upset. I don’t want to make it worse, I’m sorry. I was just looking at you, I didn’t mean to-”

You were cut off in the midst of your nervous rambling by the shrill ring of Steve’s phone. A frustrated growl escaped his mouth.

“I have to take this,” he muttered as he strode back to the bathroom. “I told you not to call me until you had it fixed” you heard him before the closing of the door muffled his anger.

He left you there to stew in your nervousness and self loathing. Five minutes had gone by and the rational part of your brain was slowly taking over. The rational part of your brain was angry. It’s okay for him to have a bad day and not want to talk about it but the way he’s spoken to you and responded to you isn’t warranted. You needed to confront him calmly and if he was still angry you needed to ask him to leave. You can talk to him another time but not while he’s angry. It won’t do anyone any good. Just like you’ve talked about in therapy.

You rehearsed the lines in your head and finished your glass. You heard the door open again and almost threw everything you had been going over in your head out the window. Just breathe. It’s fine, he calmed down so quickly after that time in the alley, he’ll understand.

_____

Steve was angry. With Clint for getting the dates of Pierce’s arrival wrong, with Sam for failing to get the recon they needed to get the drop on him. Even angrier with Bucky for taking all of this out on him when it wasn’t even his fault. But most of all he was angry with himself for letting his work get in the way of your time together. He promised you undivided attention and you deserved it.

He knew how important your day off was to you and after the day he’d been having he couldn’t wait to just come back to you. He just wanted to make some decent spaghetti and melt the worries of his day off with your embrace. He craved the physical comfort he got from you after a long day. The feeling of endlessly sinking into your arms while you held him in bed allowed him to be the vulnerable one for once. He never felt comfortable enough with any of the other women he’d dated to even entertain the idea of being the little spoon.

He always suspected that who he was at work was almost the only reason any of the other women had even gone out with him. Who he was at work was almost a front for the art-loving, touch-starved, hopeless-romantic that he was when he let himself relax. They’d all just wanted this big burly man who was always in charge, a walking wall of muscle and testosterone that they had seen and heard of him to be when he was on the job. But when he was on his own time he just wanted to feel comfort more than anything.

He just wanted to melt into you.

That’s why he was eager to get to you today but the constant calls were cutting him to his last nerve. Bucky was out with Natasha and her parents so he specifically asked not to be called. Being the boss, Bucky was not to be bothered. Being second in command, Steve was.

When he hung up with Clint he exited the bathroom and walked straight past you without a word, knowing you didn’t want to hear about work and talking about it would just make him angrier. He started unloading the grocery bag with maybe a bit more vigor than was necessary.

Remembering he had opened a beer that was probably warm by now he turned to you and grabbed it off the table you were sat at. At this moment he looked up and you had this look on your face he couldn’t quite place. He wanted to know what was up so he asked but you just ended up stammering out a response that didn’t make much sense.

He was trying to listen to you, he really was but he just couldn’t work around this building anger, couldn’t let it go. So of course his phone rings again. And of course he takes it. Excusing himself and locking the bathroom door behind him again he was already forming how to lay into his men on the other line without raising his voice and alarming you too much.

“I told you not to call me unless you had it fixed” he seethed into the receiver. Steve pounded his fist against the porcelain of your sink in aggravation. “I’m not fucking coming down there tonight. I shouldn’t have to be taking fucking phone calls to solve this kinda shit when I’m with my girl. Lose their tail, re-track them, and we’ll deal with the rest in the morning. Don’t call me again unless someone fucking gets shot”, Steve hung up abruptly and took a deep breath.

He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say to you so he just waited a minute to collect himself. He took another deep breath and readied himself to go back to you.

_________

You were sitting quietly at the table, silently digging your nails into your palm as you tensed your fist. Steve had exited the bathroom and taken a seat across from you. You decided to see if he’d speak first and waited.

A beat of silence and you sighed deeply, readying yourself to talk to him like you’d planned.

“Steve, I understand you’re having a bad day and it’s probably work related. That being said, just because you’re mad at someone else doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me” You blew out a shaky breath, wanting to finish before you lost your nerve and before he interjected. You didn’t dare make eye contact. Only stared at his hands on the table in front of you.

“If- if you’re mad don’t take it out on me, and if you feel like you can’t control that anger I don’t want you around me while you feel that way. If you want to talk through it or just work past it then I’m here. But if you’re going to snap at me again and just be mad then you need to leave. It’s not fair to me.”

I’m pretty sure Dr. Danforth would be fucking proud of me right now. Straight to the point but respectful, just like we talked about. And even if Steve’s mad, you’re in control. You’re doing great.

You braved a peek at his face at this point and he looked stunned himself. He’s probably never been spoken to like that in his life, being the second in command and all. You watched his brows bunch together in what you hoped was thought and not frustration for you and waited for him to speak.

________

Oh. Steve was a little struck by what you’d said. Have I been that bad? She’s shaking like a leaf, of course I must have been that bad. He’d had no idea that he even snapped at you, that’s how wrapped up in his own business and his head he was. He never meant to take it out on you, didn’t even realize he had. Sometimes it was like he was so deep into his work life he couldn’t take himself out of it. But he wanted to try, for you.

He remained silent while he pulled the chair across from you out and took a seat. He looked up to meet your gaze only to find you staring at your hands. You were digging your nails into your palms so he brought one large warm hand to cover yours and brought the other up to your face gently to get you to look at him. You flinched away from him and he felt another strike of surprise, but also maybe a hint of shame. Is she afraid of me? Normally Steve likes when people are afraid of him, makes his job easier, but he’d never want that from you.

“Sweetheart”, Steve’s voice was just above a whisper when you finally looked up at him.

“I’m… sorry, that’s really it I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I didn’t even realize I did.” He apologized.

____________

You could feel your tears subsiding and finally brought yourself to look at him. He looked just as exhausted before, just a little bit more sad. You imagined it was probably easy for him to get swept up in who he was at work so it must be hard to separate himself from it since it requires so much from him. You don’t want him to feel bad for being upset, you just want him to be more aware of himself and to not take things out on you.

“Steve, I know we said you wouldn’t talk about work when we’re together but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me if you have a bad day. Maybe you can keep it vague but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t say anything or be yourself, unless of course you don’t want to, I don’t want to force you to talk about anything either. When you snapped at me I just sorta shut down” You explained.

Steve seemed to be processing your words and forming a response when he took your hand in his to stop your nails from ripping into your palms like they often do. He nodded and took a breath.

“You have no idea how much it means to hear that from you, thank you. Just for the record, I never feel like I can’t be myself with you, it’s opposite, really. When I’m with you I get to drop all that bullshit at the door. Girls in the past have just wanted me because I was scary but seeing the way you flinched just now, I don’t ever want you to feel scared of me.” Steve confessed.

Maybe it’s time to tell him about the engagement, let him know where you’re coming from. You blew out a shaky breath and looked away from him again.

“I, um, I’m not scared of you. Years ago I was engaged to a man and things were really bad, he was really bad. I’m not ready to talk about all of it but that’s why I shut down on you when you snapped. I’ve been through a lot of therapy and I’m still working on it, but I’m not afraid of you. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, it’s… kind of a sore subject” you admitted.

Steve’s nostrils flared and his grip on your hand tightened a little but you could tell he was trying everything he could to school his features and reply to you.

“I… didn’t know that I’m sorry.” he said as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. “If you ever wanna talk about it more, I’m here. And if you don’t, I understand.”

You stood from your chair and came around behind him to throw your arms around his neck. You kissed his cheek and rested your head against his.

“Thank you for listening and apologizing. I forgive you. And if you wanna talk about your day then I’m here.” You assured him.

Steve turned his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss which you reciprocated. Steve stood to his full height without breaking the kiss and brought his hands up to frame your face. The warmth was comforting again to you. Your tongue slipped into his mouth and he elicited the softest of sighs before returning your passion.

He broke the kiss while his hands explored your curves. “I want to make it up to you, will you let me do that, sweetheart?” he asked.

You could only look up at him with eyes blown wide with lust and affection. You nodded and he kissed you swiftly before leading you to your bedroom. You were holding his hand when he let go and softly urged you backwards onto the bed. You obliged and soon he was on top of you laying feather-light kisses to the column of your neck.

Your hands mussed his hair and smoothed out the tension in his shoulders as you held onto him. He kissed his way lower and lifted up the hem of our shirt and kissed his way back up to your breasts. You sat up slightly and took off your top and unhooked your bra, letting it fall before throwing it to the side. Steve took turns taking your nipples between his teeth and teasing them, licking and kissing them. He knew it always made you squirm and would build the anticipation before you could even touch him.

“Steve, please.” You whined.

Wordlessly he kissed and bit his way lower and undid your shorts. You arched your back to help him remove them along with your panties. Steve wasted no time and administered the smallest of licks to your clit. You gasped slightly at the feeling when you felt two fingers prodding your entrance before going in. Your body was getting accustomed to the initial wave of pleasure brought on by Steve’s movement and slowly you ground your hips against his hand and cried out softly.

Normally Steve would never let that fly, he was always so controlling and dominant in bed but tonight was different. Tonight was soft and he was making it up to you, showing his love in a physical way. So he let you push him deeper and raise your hips just so to reach the perfect angle. You felt yourself tighten around him and this is the point he usually slows down just to drag things out but your loud cries only fueled him as he doubled his efforts. With a final cry you came around his fingers, white heat blinding your vision momentarily.

You caught your breath and looked down at Steve. His beard was absolutely drenched and he sucked his fingers clean. You could almost cum again just from the sight of it. He wiped his mouth on a tissue before returning to you to give you a kiss. You tasted yourself on him but you didn’t care, you just wanted his mouth on yours. You felt his erection pressing against your thighs and it had you squirming all over again. You reached to undo his belt when he stopped you.

“This night is supposed to be about you, doll. I’ll be fine” He protested.

You shook your head at him. “I want you, all of you. Please, Steve”, you begged.

He nodded and undid his belt. You helped undress and when he was finally naked you felt the rush of heat to your core all over again, an itch you couldn’t scratch. You laid back further on the bed and soon he was above you, face inches from yours and one arm at the side of your head.

His cock nudged against your core and entered slowly to stretch you out. You moaned deeply and when he was all the way in he kissed you passionately and began moving. It didn’t take much for him to pick up the pace as he started to fuck you. He swore under his breath at the feeling of you.

“You’re so, so, good sweetheart. So fuckin’ good.” He praised.

His words made you keen as you let the feeling of him making love to you take you over completely. His lips grazed yours in between grunts and he moved one hand to your clit while the other cradled the back of your head. You held onto his shoulders tightly and sobbed out pleas for him to keep going. His thrusts picked up speed and so did his hand. You were so close to the edge and you could feel he was too.

“I love you” he panted out before his hips lunged forward into you one last time before he came inside of you.

The shock of his confession and his work on your clit triggered your second orgasm. It was powerful and had you clawing his back and gasping in pleasure. He’d never said that before. Did he mean it? You looked to him for the answer but his lips caught yours as he gave a few last lazy thrusts. He finally collapsed to your side and was heaving to catch his breath.

You both laid there basking in the afterglow of the makeup sex for a few minutes. You turned on your side to look at him. He was so perfect like this, so at ease.

“Did you.. Mean it? What you said?” You questioned nervously. You really wanted him to mean it.

He turned slowly to look at you and he was blushing. “Yeah, I did. I know it’s kind of soon and you don’t have to say it back, but I couldn’t help it. I love you” he confided.

“I love you too, I’m not just saying it cause I feel like I have to, I love you Steve Rogers. All of you.” you assured him.

The softest of kisses was laid on your lips. This moment with him was perfect.

“I can’t believe you love me. I’m so sorry about earlier. I feel so comforted when I’m with you, the last thing I want is to lose you. I promise I will do everything I can to never be like your ex. Ever. If I’m being a dick I want you to tell me,” He apologized again.

You were about to respond when his stomach let out the loudest groan. You both laughed as you sat up.

“I did promise you dinner. Unburned this time!” Steve pledged as he helped you gather up your clothes.

“That’s a promise I’m going to hold you to, Rogers.”

#steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers #Mob!Au #mafia!au #soft!Mob!Steve Rogers #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel x reader #botanical interest

[tsukiihime]

Heartbreak (Bakugou x Reader), (Shinsou x Reader) Part 2

The second part to the fic I wrote, this will probably be my last post for another week since I have school to catch up on. Enjoy!

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Angst, a bit more fluff on Shinsou’s end, drinking

Taglist: @sugarandsoft

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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It’s three in the morning, and Bakugou can’t sleep.

He’s beyond pissed at himself for staying up this late, but he can’t help it - he’s been in bed since nine and he can’t get you out of his mind. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you stormed out of the apartment. He regrets not chasing after you, he loathes himself for being such a dick and he hates himself for even letting his stupid agency dictate his personal life. He wants to tell you so bad that you’re wrong, that beating Deku doesn’t mean a damn thing to him if it means he has to lose you. He wants to hear your voice so bad it hurts. He knows you’ll be going to Shinsou - you always do when you have a bad fight. He knows you’ll be safe there, but he feels like such a fool. He let you walk out in the rain on your own. What a hero he turned out to be. 

Bakugou spends the night alternating between flipping through the endless channels on the living room TV and staring at the ceiling. Every time he closes his eyes he sees your face - anger boiling your blood, disbelief painting your features as he fights with you, tears staining your cheeks. He feels sick to his stomach imagining you walking in the cold as you leave the apartment, sniffling as you make your way out in the rain. He wants to call you to explain himself.

But he doesn’t. His pride won’t let him.

It’s his pride that makes him trudge out to bars with Denki, Mina, and Sero the next day after you leave - he needs alcohol in his system to numb himself from the thought of you. Anyone will do if it warms his bed and makes your face disappear for even a second. God, he never thought he would be so hung up on you. He downs beer after beer, dances with woman after woman. Names and faces blur together as a cacophony of voices plays in his head. 

He ends up taking someone home that night - he couldn’t remember her even if he tried. He takes her back to the apartment you shared and pushes her onto the bed you shared. He kisses her collarbone and up her neck, but he’s aiming for your favorite spots instead of hers. The image of you overlaps with her, and he sees your figure beneath him instead of some stranger. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s his broken heart playing tricks on him.

He kisses her, imagining it’s your scent he’s breathing in rather than the vanilla and booze she smells of. He pictures your arms wrapping around his neck, your lips on his. She says his name, like honey on her lips, whispers it into his ear. And if he tries hard enough, he can twist her voice in his head to sound like you.

“Katsuki, I love you.” He hears it over and over, sees your smile and hears your laugh. “Katsuki, I love you.”

He makes her leave after that. She’s upset but he is too - an argument ensures and she storms out, leaving behind her underwear in her hurry to leave. 

He doesn’t notice. He’s too busy thinking of you.

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It’s been three weeks since your breakup with Bakugou. 

The news stations and gossip websites have been flooded with reports of Camie and Katsuki - neither have said anything about their relationship and the speculation of if they are or aren’t a couple is driving everyone wild. Thankfully, the people who were leaving awful comments have long since left you alone, prompting you to turn your Instagram to private and changing your username so they can’t find you easily. 

You’ve been avoiding social media like the plague, ignoring all television interviews that involve either Bakugou or Camie - you’ve learned your lesson from the night of the Hero Rankings. But you’re only human after all, and the one time your curiosity got the better of you, you dove into the comments on a tabloid’s website to see what the public was saying.

It doesn’t escape your notice that the comments are much kinder - it ranges from well wishes to remarks about how they wish they could replace Bakugou or Camie in the relationship. No one mentions you, which you are grateful for. You know the media thrives off of drama and rumors, so you’re content to have been forgotten about in this narrative. 

Shinsou’s been treating you like normal - another thing you’re grateful for. He is kind without being overbearing, and he gives you distance while also being there for you when you need it. You’ve migrated from sleeping on the couch to crashing in his bed, and more often than not you fall asleep to the smell of his body wash as you lay on his chest. 

You wonder what Bakugou would say if he saw you. He knew how close you and Shinsou were and still are, but anyone could think that you and the purple haired man were lovers. Here you are, getting upset at your ex-boyfriend for having a woman over two days after the breakup, when you are falling asleep in the arms of another man - even if he is your best friend. You wonder if that makes you a hypocrite. Your emotions are in chaos, all jumbled and confused. You miss physical intimacy and a part of you wonders if you’re just using Shinsou as a replacement. “It’s better to sift through these feelings when I’m calmer”, you think to yourself, “I’ll come back to it when I’m in a better place.”

Otherwise, you’ve been steadily making your way back to a normal life - work, school, and your personal life all seem to be peaceful and you’re content in a way you hadn’t been for a long time with Bakugou. Of course, the wounds of the breakup are still healing, but you’re doing a lot better from three weeks ago, when you couldn’t even bring yourself to get out of bed. Shinsou has been making sure that you eat properly and that you take care of yourself. Now that you’re out of that post breakup funk, he notices that you’re cheerful and upbeat - a good sign that you’re slowly recovering from your heartbreak.

Today, you’re home alone while Shinsou patrols the city - he’s promised to pick up dinner on his way home so you don’t have to cook. He’s looking forward to tonight - you’ve finished all of your school work for the weekend and you’re off from work until Monday. He’s eager to come home to you, he’s turned down his coworkers invitations to drink so he can spend the weekend with you. He’s picked up food from your favorite Mexican restaurant, and he’s stopped at the grocery store to get your favorite flavor of ice cream - the one that’s almost always sold out. 

He arrives home to see you lazing about the house - you’re laying on your back on the couch, holding your pastel Animal Crossing Edition Switch with a bag of chips resting on the table next to you. Your eyebrows are furrowed together as you focus on beating the shit out of a boss in Cuphead - a game you and Shinsou spent hours playing when it came out trying to pass the incredibly difficult levels. You’re wearing Shinsou’s favorite hoodie again - you might as well claim it as your own already you wear it so much - and your fuzzy cat print socks match with a fluffy cat ear headband that keeps your hair out of your face. Your face is recently washed and slightly pink, and he can smell your favorite coconut body wash from where he’s standing. He waits until you lose the stage (let's face it - there’s no way you’re beating that damn clown boss without his help) and he makes his way over to you, leaning over to look down at you as you exhale in annoyance at your loss. 

“Hey there, I got dinner. Also nabbed some dessert for you - ready to watch nothing but ghost stories for the rest of the night?” You stretch out your arms and legs, groaning as you move to stand from the couch. 

“Only if you promise to sleep next to me until I see sunlight again.” You hate ghost stories - you can handle scary movies about murderers and clowns but you don’t mess with ghosts. The only reason you’re watching tonight is because you know it’s Shinsou’s favorite and he always watches your nature documentaries even though you know deep down he probably doesn’t enjoy them as much as you do. You saunter over to the kitchen, and prop yourself on the counter facing Shinsou as you pull a taco to your mouth. “Ugh, even though the Exorcist was made like 50 years ago it still gives me the creeps. I can’t believe,” you take a moment to drink some water, “that you can watch her crawl backwards down the stairs and not piss your pants.” Shinsou lowly chuckles, giving a teasing smile as he unwraps his burrito.

“It’s ‘cause I’m not a chicken.” You roll your eyes and snort. 

“Whatever Mindjack. Not everyone can be as fearless as you.” He smirks as you swing your legs, turning your full attention to the taco you have in front of you. “Hurry up and finish so we can do a facemask before our movie marathon. You didn’t forget about that did you?” 

“‘Course not. You wouldn’t let me forget even if I tried, since you’re such a nagger.” You pout, hopping off the counter to wash your hands. Shinsou spends a bit too much time admiring how small you look wearing his hoodie - enveloped in something that belongs to him makes him swell with pride even if it’s wrong of him to think so. He wonders when he started to feel this way towards you, when his love changed from a close friend to an admirer. When he remembers his life, you are always there with him. By his side like a part of his body, always around when important events pass by, always by his side when the going gets tough. It’s not as if he’s always been pining for you - he’s brought other girlfriends around before even if the romance fizzles out before long - but recently he’s noticed you in a different light. Your bedhead and your sleeping face are just as cute to him as when you have your hair done and makeup on. Bringing other men over was never a problem, you’re his best friend and your happiness was always the first priority. But now, he finds himself annoyed at the mere mention of possible partners. You have no shortage of those - you’ve always been able to draw people to you as nerdy as you are - and the green vines of jealousy wrap around his heart every time someone gives you a gift on Valentine’s Day or someone asks you out for a coffee. You usually turn them down since you have so much to focus on, work and school makes you a busy woman after all. But he can’t help but be irritated at the stares you get in public sometimes - as beautiful as you are, you would think that you’d notice the way others look at you. He’s always loved you, but now he feels this once platonic love changing into pure romance, he aches for you like he’s never had before - longing for your touches, your hugs, your feather light kisses on his forehead when he’s having a tough day. The guilt he feels every time he holds you close like he did when you were kids, when you lay your head on his chest and he plays with your hair. To you, it’s still the action of a best friend, but to him it’s something he’d do for a lover. And yet, you’re oblivious, as dense as a rock but he loves that part too. How infuriatingly adorable you are sometimes. 

“‘Toooooshi~”, You wave your hand in his face as he comes back to reality. You raise an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

“Never better.” Your arms cross as you stare at him, suspicious that he’s hiding something from you. 

“You ready? I got everything set up.” He nods, and you turn to walk towards his bedroom.

Shinsou’s room is quite neat, a black bed in the corner next to ceiling to floor windows that gives a pretty good view of the city. He scored a good location in spite of his modest salary - he’s in it for the heroism and the good deeds, not the money. He may not make as much as Bakugou, Todoroki, or Deku, but he does alright. His capture weapon and artificial vocal cords mask rest atop his bookshelf, populated with picture books of you and him in your younger days, as well as a Polaroid camera you left with him when he went off to U.A and you stayed in Saitama. Next to the parts of his Hero costume is a picture of you and him on a trip to the beach - one he treasures above all else. In it, he holds you bridal style as you both smile from ear to ear at the camera. You’re practically glowing, wearing a bright yellow bikini set with a see through beach coverup wrapped around your hips, sunglasses resting atop your head. Shinsou recalls how you nagged him to actually swim with you, and you pretty much forced him to wear those green swim shorts - this picture was before he decided to run with you in his arms to the water. 

He sees your presence everywhere he looks in his room. After he reassured you that you weren’t a burden, you’ve basically turned his home into your home as well. The bottom half of his bookshelf is claimed as yours - it’s filled with your favorite stories, and your collection of Switch games is stacked next to the shelf neatly. Your laptop rests on his bed (you were no doubt doing homework before you got distracted and started playing Cuphead before he got home) with your Geology textbook open and notebooks filled with notes and highlighted phrases. Your clothes have been hung up in his closet, with your makeup and perfumes taking over three-fourths of his bathroom counter. If anyone else came to visit, they’d think you two were an item.

But alas, you two are not.

You push your schoolwork and computer aside to make room for you and Hitoshi, making your way towards the bathroom to grab a basket of skin care products and face masks. Shinsou knows how much you care about your skin - and by extension his skin - and he watches as you walk from here to there gathering what you need. You turn to him with a huge grin on your face as you hold up a matching cat headband in the color black, something you picked up from the store before you came home last week. He sighs, but turns around anyways to allow you to pull his lavender hair back into a loose ponytail and place the cat headband on his head before turning back to face you. 

He looks so silly wearing it, but for you, he’ll do anything. You grab your phone and open the front camera, sticking your tongue out while grabbing Shinsou’s face, squishing his cheeks as he makes an annoyed face at the camera. After taking the photo, you upload it to your now private Instagram and send the picture to Shinsou who does the same. He’s always been a private man, so you don’t worry about the public getting a hold of the photos and trying to make a story out of your life like with Bakugou. 

Tossing your phone aside, you motion for Hitoshi to turn towards you, propping yourself up on your knees in front of him as he sits cross legged. You giggle as he looks back at you, reaching to grab a jar of your favorite moisturizer and opening it. The smell is familiar to him - you always smell like it at night when you watch TV while sitting next to him in the living room. You start to apply the product to his face, careful to keep it out of his eyes and mouth. “You need to take better care of your skin ‘Toshi.”

“I know. I’ve been putting sunscreen on like you’ve asked.” He’s not lying, it’s become a part of his routine ever since you suggested it. 

“Good. You better be taking the time to eat properly at work too. I know you’re sleeping normally again since I’ve been here, so I won’t lecture you on that.” You glance at his arms, covered in scattered scars from run ins with villains. 

Most people look at heroes as an invincible force, unstoppable like All Might. Others may see Mindjack, but you just see Hitoshi Shinsou, your partner in crime.

“Thank you Hitoshi...for everything.” You blurt it out before you can stop yourself.

“I didn’t know this facemask meant so much to you.” You punch him in the shoulder as he laughs.

“‘Toshi, I’m serious. Look at all you’ve done for me. You let me crash here, listen to me complain, make sure I’m okay...without you, I probably would still be lying in bed all depressed.” You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. “I have to say it before I never get the chance to. You may be Mindjack, a hero, but you’re still Hitoshi to me. You do so much for me and you put your life on the line for others every day. I watch you and I’m proud of the boy who proved everyone wrong when they said you had a villain’s quirk. You being here for me after everything with Bakugou and always being there for me growing up makes me realize how much you mean to me. You’re my hero, ‘Toshi. But I need you to stay safe. Look at all your scars...” You pull back from the hug and grab his arms, running your fingers over his scarred skin. You’ve always known Shinsou’s job is dangerous - he’s a hero after all, he saves people. But he’s also your best friend. He’s a selfless man, a kind man. 

You love Shinsou. You truly do, he is someone you can never lose. To lose him would be to lose a part of you.

He says nothing in response, so you continue. “Remember that time you fought that villain in the subway? All the news stations said that the tunnel was going to collapse and I just felt like my heart was going to burst. I saw you getting trapped and I felt like…”

You trail off, feeling the familiar sting of tears as you hold them back. Hitoshi gazes at you, lilac eyes boring into your own. “I felt like my whole world was ending. When you came out alright I thought I would faint. I was so scared ‘Toshi… scared you wouldn’t come back. I don’t want to lose you.” Shinsou grabs your cheeks, gently moving his hands so you face him. He wipes a tear from your eye. 

“I’ll always come back to you.” You close your eyes, and press your forehead to his.

“You better. I’ll be waiting.”

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Bakugou wants to be anywhere else but here. 

He’s at Kirishima’s apartment - he’s been dragged out of his house by Mina and Kaminari for a night of drinking, with Sero and Jirou also coming along for the ride. The blonde would rather be in bed, wallowing in his misery, but his friends won’t let him stay inside. So he pouts in the corner, arms crossed and a permanent scowl painting his features. Kirishima gives him a knowing smile, and mouths “I’m sorry”. Bakugou clicks his tongue and looks away, grabbing his phone in order to distract himself from all the noise. 

He would rather die than admit it, but he’s been looking for your Instagram ever since you left. You must’ve unfollowed him or even blocked him - he can’t find a trace of you anywhere. He hates this pathetic side of him, one that makes him seem like a stalker, but he has to know you’re okay. If his pride won’t let him call you, then he needs to know you’re okay.

To his surprise, you pop up on his feed. He immediately inspects the photo of you, and breathes a sigh of relief to see your face. Your tongue is sticking out all playful, beaming as you hold Hitoshi’s face for the photo. You’re wearing that cat headband you always use when washing your face, and he can tell you’re almost ready for bed. He smiles solemnly, vermilion eyes staring at you, so far away.

He notices you’re wearing one of Shinsou’s hoodies and his blood boils at the thought - he knows you are friends but he hates the idea of anyone else having you - although he shouldn’t be one to talk after bringing home that girl from the club. He hates himself for doing it. He stares at your face before standing, saying a curt “I’ll be back” before making his way to the balcony. His friend’s voices fade as he stands outside overlooking the city, and he makes sure the coast is clear before dialing your number.

Fuck his pride. He has to hear your voice. 

#bnha x fem!reader #bnha x you #shinsou x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha angst #shinsou x you #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x y/n #hitoshi shinso x y/n #mha x reader #my writing

[blogger-yura]

Entry #39 Dec 20th '21

#YurasLife #DailyYura #ChristmasCountdown

𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐘𝐮𝐫𝐚 - Christmas Preparations 🎅

Hello hello my lovely reindeers (˘▽˘) I was going to say snowflakes but I didn't want you guys to think I was being mean LOL (ㅜㅡㅜ) How are you all doing! How's monday treating you, hm? Have you been taking good care? Staying warm? Eating well? Are you enjoying the snow! I'm loving it so much, first snow of the season I had some friends over so I took Choi out with us and we played for a little~ He's so cute, always looks so confused by it! Did you guys do anything special for the first snow? Back home we used to go for a ride when it happened. Just a little trip around the neighborhood, see the snow fall and all the pretty lights, especially if it was at night it was such a beautiful sight! Then we'd go back home and have hot chocolate my mom would make! ♡ Did you guys have any special little tradition you did for the first snow of the season when kids? Or maybe a tradition you've started now?

Is everyone ready for the holidays? I've started preparing for Christmas already, all the decorations and food and gifts are getting sorted out! We'll have a small party with friends on Friday~. Do you celebrate at all? Or maybe not celebrate, but still gather with family or something alike? I wish I could spend Christmas with my family, but I also have a lot of fun with my friends!

We've been decorating Seung's place this weekend, putting up the tree finally and hanging some lights outside too, getting all ready for the big day! It's always better and way more enjoyable to do decorations with friends, don't you think? The memories are better. Whenever I have to do it alone I just put up a small tree at home and call it a day (//•/ω/•//)

We know we're suuuper late to the decorations though, do you decorate earlier in the month or closer to the celebrations? Ena was going back to the States today so we were just spending time with her and we got kinda behind (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ She did help decorate though! Leaving her little grain of love behind before going home for the season ♡ It was super nice having her around! Is there anyone you wish you could see for the holidays?

Hm, even if I can't see my family yet, I do hope I get to visit for the new year at least! It's been a busy year, hasn't it? Crazy the way the time just goes by!

Ok, I'll stop rambling now, I need to go get groceries! I'm in charge of dessert this year! Look out for Wednesday's post~ °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

I'll be going now, I hope everyone's week is good, take good care and look after yourselves! Make sure to go over your holiday lists to not forget anything! All the love, my angels! I'll see you again soon! -Yura ♡

💜: @madmanwoodam @archangel-oc @shin-haneul @lunaaofthemoon @moongoddesselene @jinju-oc @ochouse-cb @esmeralda-oc

@cb-museclub @achillesunwoo @mafia-chae @skzcbspam @betrayerjongup @ppg-3ye @moonlightchn @temptationcb @vampiremomo @suburbanbots @antiromantic-jun @roommates-bot @modelsiblings @floristyujeong @eunwoo-bot @hopelessromantic-juyeon @silvernightcb @botuniverse @modelsora @adorbsana @richsocietybot @velvetparadise @berryjinnie @azieville-institution @7deadlysins-chan @journeythroughtime @ahswitchescb @mediumchae @urjenniekim @ghoul-yeri @sweetheartbakery @soullessxbot @seolala @goodagainstevilcb @project-takeover @yourloveaddict @killerchaeyoung

#yura types 🧡 #daily yura #Christmas Season ✨ #Spotify

[vina-writes]

The Pink Paradox

Written for the @drarrymicrofic​ prompt: Metamorphosis!

Rating: T

Length: 1.6k

Summary: Draco Malfoy has pink hair.

Notes: Thank you so much @fw00shy​​ for betaing!! Also just hire me for all your graphic design needs because hot damn I am proud of myself

(i)

Draco Malfoy has pink hair.

That’s not entirely correct when one gets down to the facts. Draco Malfoy has blond hair— a light, airy blond, the color of sunlight on snow. Harry Potter knows this because he’s spent many an adolescent winter watching Malfoy walk the grounds of a frozen Hogwarts and noticing it. The fact that he’s observed Malfoy that carefully is neither here nor there, although Ron would say it’s there (there being the Janus Thickey Ward). Harry’s Malfoy-stalking tendencies occupy their own corner of his mind however, and certainly don’t apply to the here and now.

Because here and now Malfoy has pink hair, and that’s not something unique to Harry’s observations. There’s not a witch or wizard alive who wouldn’t notice that head of bubblegum bobbing between the Auror cubicles.

It’s far too early for a Monday morning (nearing noon), and while their coworkers have been diligently ridding the Wizarding World of crime, Harry and Ron are tossing Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans into each other's mouths and gossiping over Lavender Brown’s pregnancy cravings. They were, that is, until Harry caught sight of Malfoy's pink hair.

“Kneazle got your tongue?” Ron asks after Harry fails to finish his sentence for the fifth time. Ron can make fun of him if he wants— his chair is facing away from Malfoy and that rosy fringe. The fact that Harry has never passed up a chance to watch Draco in all their years of training and employment (with or without pink hair) is irrelevant. The pink is distracting, and it’s more so on Malfoy.

“Malfoy,” Harry repeats to himself quietly, just to feel the familiar shape in his mouth. It’s lacking the venom and suspicion it should have on principle.

Ron turns unpleasantly green at that. “Malfoy’s got your tongue?” he asks.

“What?” Harry finally looks away from Malfoy. “No. Ew. Of course not.” He says it far too blandly, like a child denying their love of sweets, and Ron gives him a Look. Harry tries (unsuccessfully) to change the subject. “What’s he doing with the— why did he— what’s… erm.”

Ron regards him like he’s lost his mind. He seems to think Harry is confused about Malfoy’s business in the DMLE, when he’s usually with Hermione down in Mysteries. While that is out of the ordinary, it’s not nearly as pressing of an issue as Malfoy's pink hair.

“He’s consulting,” Ron explains slowly, “for the Finley case?” Then, when Harry only stares back blankly— “Harry. Can you even read?”

“Occasionally.”

“Tacky romance novels don't count.”

“Oh. Then, no, not really.”

“It was in our missive just last week. They’ve pulled in the Unspeakables. I was hoping they’d send ‘Mione, since she and the Ferret work together, but no such luck.”

“Oh.” Harry turns back to watch Malfoy shake Robards’ hand. Robards' grip is strong, and his thick fingers nearly engulf Malfoy’s delicate wrist. Harry doesn’t like that.

“Are you worried he’s going to cause trouble?” Ron asks. His voice sounds different, and when Harry glances at him again he’s got both feet slung over the armrest of his chair. Robards will skin him alive if he sees.

“No!” Harry says too quickly. He coughs. “Just wondering about the— er, how long has he had…?”

Ron doesn’t seem inclined to help him out.

“For fuck’s sake, Ron, when did he go and do—” Harry waves his hands frantically “—that?”

“Do you mean the hair, mate?”

“Yes, the bloody hair!” Harry’s had his fair share of existential crises in his life. He’s well acquainted with the feeling, and this one is going near the top of the list.

Ron, the bastard, shrugs. Shrugs! Like a pink-haired Malfoy is not only a normal occurrence, but is even expected.

“I didn’t notice it at first, to be honest,” he says, and Harry throws him a look of such vicious resentment that the potted Dragon Snap in the corner stops smoking and curls its leaves over its head. Ron just gives him a shit-eating grin in return.

Discouraged by his apparently un-threatening aura, Harry glances away in time to see Malfoy get a hearty pat on the shoulder (he doesn’t like that, either) and turn towards— towards them.

“Er, Ron?” Harry asks. “Who was assigned to the Finley case?” He knows the answer before he gets it, but still can’t look away from the cutting figure Malfoy makes as he saunters towards them in swirling black robes.

“That would be us,” Ron says cheerfully. “Buckle up and tuck in, mate. Your hard-on is showing.”

Harry is not hard, not even a little, but his panicked struggle to tug the mercilessly short Auror robes over his lap leaves him wrinkled and guilty-looking when Malfoy reaches them.

“Gentlemen,” Malfoy says cooly, and Harry thinks his cheeks must be the color of Malfoy’s hair.

“Harry’s hot for your hair,” Ron says. Harry chokes. “He’s also not read the case file, so I’ll leave you two to it. Don’t come looking for me, I’ll be taking an extended lunch. Looking forward to working with you.”

He throws them both a saucy wink and leaves with all the smugness of a man who’s done his yearly good deed. Harry’s going to murder him before the day is done.

Silence descends over their cubicle. Malfoy eyes Ron’s chair, but wisely chooses to remain standing. Harry notices belatedly that his robes are trimmed in silver, the same shade at his eyes.

“Potter.”

“Malfoy,” Harry acknowledges with a polite nod. The stillness around them is most certainly plummeting towards awkward.

“I heard you like my—”

“Have you read the—”

They both speak at the same time. Malfoy blinks, startled. When he doesn’t finish his sentence, Harry tries again.

“Have you not been debriefed on—”

“I noticed you changed your—”

They wisely decide to shut up. There’s a used staple on the corner of Harry’s desk, and he reaches over to fiddle with it just for something to do.

“Staples,” Malfoy says out of the blue. He looks like he regrets his volume, and it occurs to Harry that he probably feels just as uncomfortable. This is the first time they’ve spoken beyond polite greetings in four years, and neither is sure what to expect. It makes Harry feel better, somehow, to know that he’s not the only one feeling utterly wrongfooted.

“Yes,” Harry says. “Staples?”

Malfoy swallows. His neck is a long expanse of smooth skin, and Harry vaguely wonders what it tastes like. “We might make use of them on the case. Staples, I mean. Have you any more?”

Harry frowns, his discomfort dissipating. “Yeah, in the supply closet. But we just use Sticking Charms— don’t you?”

“Yes,” Malfoy says quickly. “We do. But we could try staples from the supply closet.”

It’s Harry’s turn to deploy the Look. Malfoy frowns at him like he doesn't get it, but Harry’s not really in the mood for deduction.

“So,” Harry says instead, “Auror work. Are you looking forward to it?”

There’s a shift in Malfoy’s stance, and his grey eyes skim over the lines of Harry’s body. “Parts of it,” he says. His tone is a little off. Husky.

“Sore throat?” Harry asks in what he hopes is a sympathetic manner.

“Sometimes,” Malfoy says cryptically. Harry’s not having the greatest time puzzling out his strange behavior and responses— they leave him floundering for something else to say.

“Are you going to tell me what’s in that fancy file or do I have to read it?” Harry finally asks, jerking his chin towards the papers tucked under Malfoy’s arm. He sincerely hopes Malfoy will volunteer to summarize for him. It’s because Harry’s glasses are giving him a headache and not at all because he likes the sound of Malfoy’s voice.

Malfoy’s cheeks flush a little. Harry wonders if he’s coming down with something, even as he struggles not to think of the color as attractive. “Protocol dictates that you read case information yourself,” Malfoy says, “but I suppose I wouldn’t mind speeding things along so we can get started. Maybe… over coffee? Or lunch?”

Harry tries not to let his dismay show on his face. “We have to work through lunch?” he asks. It sounds pathetic even to his own ears.

“Oh my fucking Merlin, he’s asking you out!” Cho shouts over the cubicle wall. Harry and Malfoy both jump.

“No, he’s not!” Harry shouts back, cheeks flaming.

“Yes, I am,” Malfoy says. Harry drops the used staple.

“You are?”

“Am I?”

“I don’t bloody know!”

“Well,” Malfoy starts, but seems to realize he doesn’t have a leg to stand on. “Well— you like my hair.”

“And that’s enough reason to ask me out for coffee?”

Harry really has no idea why he’s arguing. This is Malfoy— pink-haired, blushing Malfoy— handing himself over on a silver-trimmed platter, and he mentally slaps himself for putting up any sort of resistance.

“I like your hair,” Malfoy admits. He seems to regret saying it, and tries to make up for his embarrassment by adopting a suave position leaning against Harry’s desk. He misses and stumbles slightly before righting himself.  

“Don’t worry, Malfoy,” Cho calls again. “He’s been wetting himself over you for years, he’s bound to say yes.”

“Well, he’s not saying it,” Malfoy mutters.

“Yes I am.”

“You— you are?”

“Am I?”

Malfoy stops and stares at him. Opens his mouth, frowns a little. There’s a wonderful feeling in Harry’s chest.

“I’m just fucking with you,” Harry says over a smile. “Let’s go.”

Malfoy orders a strawberry milkshake at lunch. Harry doesn’t get dessert, but he still feels very… pink.

Read on Ao3

#drarry #prompt #drarrymicrofic #it was for the prompt so ill tag it as micro lol #vina writes

[elen-aranel]

Christmas Treats

For: @autumnleaves1991-blog & @clydesducktape Writer Wednesday. <3 Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: Fluff. Gratuitous fluff. You and Steve Rogers and decorating cookies and a Date. WC: 6.3k words A/N: This got awayyy from meeeee Like, I started, ok, this is cute, should get it done on Wednesday, then it was Thursday, and now it’s Monday and I JUST FINISHED. Writer hasn’t been to New York. This is set in New York. I did “research” (I googled). Anyway, set in a kind of vague wish fulfilment universe some time after Winter Soldier, I hope you enjoy! <3

It figures, you think sourly to yourself as you eye the two kilos of icing sugar that you just weighed out, mounded like so much snow, that you would be the only one assigned to the kitchen who could make it in today. The day of the holiday party.

You dump the first lot in the sieve, holding your breath for a moment as the sweet cloud of sugar envelops you, and begin working it through with the back of a dessert spoon.

Macy did sound terrible when she called you this morning, though. You could barely hear her. Tara is a cute little toddler but she’s also a germ factory, and Macy had gone down hard with a cold.

And Ahmed hadn’t sounded much better; he blamed his brother, a soccer coach, for passing the bug on to him, but regardless of who was to blame, he couldn’t come.

Emory had gone upstate to visit her parents for the weekend and drop off Christmas presents, since she’s going to spend Christmas in LA with her boyfriend Rafael’s parents for the first time. And while the freak snowstorm wasn’t her fault, part of you wishes you were the one snowed in with family.

And Steve? Who knew where he was. You saw him yesterday and he said he was going out for drinks with his roommate. With retrospect, you should have realised that meant a no-show today. If his dad wasn’t a trustee here, someone would’ve fired him, you think.

New York was supposed to be a new start for you. A new city, new friends, maybe a new partner. But you feel a bit lonely, especially given time of year; your family is in England, but you can’t afford the air fare to go home for Christmas, and even though there are literally millions of guys – and girls – in New York City, after several disaster dates you’ve given up on finding someone for you.

So now you’re here, the only one available to bake for the kids’ Christmas party and these cupcakes won’t ice themselves, and there’s still gingerbread to bake and sandwiches to cut and and...

You take a breath. One thing at a time. You’ve got this. You look at the list you had made with your colleagues when you were planning everything. Gingerbread in the oven, ice the cupcakes, make the sandwiches, decorate the gingerbread.

You count your blessings: at least you have a scale. You tried to get the hang of cups when you were baking for July 4th, you really did, but they’re just so... unpredictable. You have resigned yourself to temperatures in Fahrenheit, however.

You turn the mixer on a little too fast, creating another dusty cloud of sugar which settles on your skin and all over your clothes. You’re wearing an apron, but it doesn’t do much to protect your green elf dress, and you wish you’d worn your normal clothes then changed when the baking was done.

You didn’t do that, though, because even though you came really early you knew you’d be too busy to fit it in. And you had abandoned the idea of still looking nice by the time the Avengers get here while you were still weighing out flour. Now you’ll settle for getting all the food ready on time. It’s not about you, you tell yourself sternly. It’s for the sake of the kids in this neighbourhood, who deserve a treat. They’re few enough and far enough between. And at least the air tastes good with all the sugar in it.

You do love baking, it’s just that decorating isn’t your strong suit. You don’t have a natural talent at it, and haven’t had enough practice, not really. You scoop the pale green buttercream into an icing bag resting in a tall glass – thanks YouTube – and sigh.

You have the right piping nozzles, which do make a difference, but Emory can make those perfect roses and Ahmed’s eye for design meant the cake you made that he decorated at Halloween looked wonderful too. Even Steve is better at it than you. You can kind of do swirls, so you try – a blob of icing in the middle, then round, round, stop squeezing and hope the flow of buttercream stops in time for it to look looks elegant and not a mess.

The ones on Pinterest look like Christmas trees. Yours are a more… well. You step back and eye them critically. Hopefully the red sprinkles and gold star shape chocolates to top them off are enough distract from the uneven icing.

“Everything smells amazing. Is that ginger?” Ayesha has an arm full of red and green balloons as she steps in through the back door, followed by Marcus, her partner, with the first box of hampers. She’s in a thick coat but it’s unzipped, and what you can see of her red sequin dress looks cute, especially with the gold beads in her braids.

“Yeah, I’m just getting the gingerbread out.” You’ve pulled put the oven gloves back on and are opening the oven door, and Ayesha’s right, the hot air that wafts out smells very good. The gingerbread is perfectly cooked, too – little gingerbread men, snowflakes, and Christmas trees. You set the first sheet down to get the rest of them out.

“Is it just you in here?” Marcus asks in his rumbling bass on his way back out to the car park.

“Yep, just me. Macy and Ahmed are both ill, and Emory is still stuck at her parents’. I’m kind of hoping for Steve?”

He pulls a face and you do too – you both know Steve is not likely to show.

“I’d love to give you a hand but we’re running late as it is – the hall still looks like a bomb hit it from yesterday, so we’re going to be all hands on deck too. I just need to get the last boxes out the minibus then I’m on garland duty, Ayesha says.” He opens the door, and a couple of other people you don’t know very well come in, both laden.

“No it’s okay, I understand. It’s fine. Macy called me first thing, so I came down early – I’ve got everything under control. Sandwiches next.” You smile, and if it doesn’t touch your eyes Marcus probably doesn’t notice.

A few more people come in while you’re spreading the bread – not Steve – but everyone else has made it. You can hear banging noises coming through from the hall, and the occasional curse.

By the time you start on the fillings – PB&J, turkey and cranberry, veggie wraps – the Christmas music has started. You sing along with Mariah as you arrange little triangles on platters.

The heated nibbles are warming in the oven, the ginger and orange punch is mixed, and you’re contemplating the gingerbread and its green, white, and red icing when you hear the door again. You frown – everyone else is here, and guests will come in through the front. Everyone else, that is, except—

“Steve, oh thank goodness. You’re just in time to save my life. I need you to work your magic on this gingerbread like you did with the stars and stripes on the sugar cookies on the 4th of July. Everything’s ready. You just need to wash your hands, put on a hairnet, and get started. There’s an apron hanging just inside the door.”

You turn round, brandishing an icing bag. And... there’s... it’s... well, he is a Steve, standing there. But not the Steve you’re expecting. The Steve you’re expecting has dark hair, and a wiry build, and is alright looking but nothing special. This Steve is tall, blue eyed, muscled, handsome, wearing dark jeans and a fleece lined coat, carrying a garment bag, and a round case which must hold his shield.

“Stars and stripes sugar cookies are in breach of Title 4 of the US code. But you’re English.” He shrugs, face breaking into a grin. “I’ll give you a pass.”

“I’m so sorry Captain Rogers.” You’re pleased with how calm your voice sounds, considering you’re talking to an Avenger. “I thought you’d all be coming through the front. And like, not for another, er... I don’t know. I’m losing track of time here.”

“No, I’m sorry. This isn’t far from my old neighbourhood... I don’t often get a chance to go back. So this seemed like a good opportunity. I emailed... ah... Macy Garcia? She said it would be fine to change here.”

Of course he had. And Macy must be worse than you thought if she forgot to tell you.

“Macy’s sick, so she couldn’t be here. There’s no one in the office, so you’re welcome to use it. I’d better get to my decorating... I don’t think our Steve is going to make it. But I’ll definitely tell him about the sugar cookies. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to be unpatriotic.” You grin. “Office is through that door,” you wave your piping bag in the right direction, and he starts moving.

You glare down at a gingerbread man, before piping two little blobs for eyes. In the future when you tell this story it’ll probably seem funny, but for now... telling Captain America to save you by decorating cookies? You do the buttons, scarf, and mouth, and then pipe a couple of lines for eyebrows. The gingerbread man glares back up at you.

“You weren’t kidding, were you? About saving your life? I think that gingerbread man actually wants to kill you.”

You laugh, startled. Captain America is back, but not in uniform – he’s in a white button down, sleeves pushed up exposing his forearms, and he is wearing the navy-blue apron. And a hairnet.

“Uh... Captain Rogers, what are you doing?”

“Steve. I’m helping. You’re on your own, you’re clearly doing at least three people’s work here, and I think someone else had better handle the gingerbread men, at least, or the little ones will cry. I’m early... might as well put the time to good use.”

“Thank you,” you say, heartfelt. “I hate this part. I do like baking, but I don’t have artistic talent.”

“I don’t believe that. Your tree cakes look really good,” he says, taking the white icing bag from you, and adding eyes to a dozen cookies in short order. You pull over some tree shapes and start piping green dots.

“That’s kind of you to say. The sprinkles are doing the heavy lifting, really, but I’m glad they work. I think I’ve been looking at them too long.”

“Yeah. I get that. Can I have the red please?”

Captain America – Steve – is surprisingly easy to talk to. You introduce yourself properly and ask him about growing up in New York. He tells you about what Brooklyn was like when he lived there. You don’t want to push, but he seems happy to chat. In return you tell him about London as it is now – he’s passed through it, of course, but you find yourself telling him about trying to ride at the front of trains on the DLR, and how you would pretend to be the train driver when you were a kid. How you miss your annual trip to Oxford Street to look at the Christmas lights.

“So… and please forgive me if I’ve got the timing wrong here, but do you remember prohibition? That’s one of the strangest bits of American history to me. That and that you still make people wait until they’re 21 to drink even though you know they’ll do it younger. Well. Not you personally,” you add, reaching for where you left the white icing bag. But instead of the bag you find you’ve grasped a warm hand. “Oh, uh, sorry,” you say, stifling your intake of breath as you release him. It’s ridiculous, but you think you almost felt a spark, like electricity.

“You need this? I’m just—” he squeezes the bag in his right hand, making an impossibly delicate little deer shape on—

“You iced, frosted, a Christmas jumper for a gingerbread man? You are amazing. If you ever get bored of saving the world you could start a bakery.”

He laughs, and it’s a lovely sound. “I draw. This is… not the same, but it’s close. If I quit saving the world that’s what I’d do. But yes, I do remember prohibition. I was still too young to drink when it ended, and I never went to a speakeasy, but we all knew where they were…”

You feel like you’re standing a little closer as you go back to decorating. You find yourself leaning across each other to swap colours, kind of bumping into each other. You realise you’ve relaxed. You feel comfortable. Steve lets you pipe a last scarf on a gingerbread man – he did all the faces, and you cheerfully admit they look a lot less murder-y than yours. The trees are done, too, with their green and red baubles and white snow.

“Snowflakes? I’ll just turn the oven down and fill another bag with white.”

“Sure. I’ll get started.”

You stare in admiration at Steve’s snowflakes, contrasting them to the couple you’ve done. His are elegant. “Mine always come out so blobby,” you frown. You didn’t mean to say that aloud.

“Pipe another. Let me see.”

You do, trying to be careful – just a simple design, spokes with a star shape in the middle. It’s hard to keep control, though, and you grip the bag tightly, willing it to co-operate. And of course it’s even harder with an audience.

“You need to relax. Relax your grip. I’m not an expert at this, clearly, but I think you’re nervous and you’re trying too hard. See,” he comes and stands behind you, putting his arms round you and taking the piping bag. “Hold my hands. Feel how I do it.”

You do, feeling awkward, yes, but also… safe, surrounded by his strong, warm arms. And definitely turned on, a little voice inside you says. But you squash it down, concentrating on how Steve holds the bag, the pressure he exerts, and the sureness of his movements. He does have a lighter touch than you.

“Now you try.”

You slide another snowflake over and exhale. You don’t have to prove anything. Today isn’t about you. And you’ll never see Steve in the flash again... you might as well enjoy this moment before the party starts and everything gets crazy.

You hold that feeling in your head as you pipe, watching as the design grows.

“I did it! No blobs,” you exclaim, turning to him with a proud smile on your face. “Thank you.” This close you can see how beautiful his eyes are, and you find yourself staring into them—

“We’re ready to start putting food out,” Ayesha calls from the other end of the kitchen, and you find yourself stepping away like you’ve been caught, feeling flustered. “Are the sandwiches ready to go?”

“Yes, you can, uh, come and collect them. There’s cheese bites and pigs in blankets and some... veggie... things? I forgot what the packet said – in the oven keeping warm. But we can put those out when people come. I don’t know when you want the sweets, we’ve got a bit more gingerbread left to decorate.”

“No, leave the star there—ok, yeah that’s fine.” Ayesha turns back to you. “Great. I’ll start with the sandwiches. The kids are due in fifteen and the Avengers in half an hour. Wait, we? No way Steve is here...” she blinks in your direction, seeing Steve Rogers for the first time. “Wow...uh...”

“Hi, sorry, I got here a bit early and thought I’d help out. We’re just finishing up.”

You can practically see her shake herself mentally. “That’s very generous of you, sir. I–er... do you need anything?”

“I’m fine. I’m going to change in the office afterwards.” Steve gives her a little smile, then bends his head to focus on the next snowflake. Ayesha meets you eye, a disbelieving look on her face. You shrug in reply, and go back to your piping. And when she’s left? Maybe you find yourself a little closer to Steve again.

All too soon you find yourself finishing the last snowflake together.

“Thank you so much for your help,” you say, as you slot it into the gap on the last plate. “I really appreciate it – it turned a chore into something... something fun.”

“It was my pleasure,” he says, making eye contact for a long moment, and for a second you forget where you are, gazing into his eyes again, admiring the colours you see there. You enjoy it – this will be your only chance. Finally he takes a breath, and it sounds a little harsh. “I’d better—”

“Yes of course. I’ll just—” you move round each other a little awkwardly, and you busy yourself organising the cakes and treats, making sure there’s room for the food to come out of the oven.

You’re glad you don’t happen to be holding any plates when Captain America walks out of the office, carrying his shield.

Because that costume... wow. He winks at you as he passes, and you hope you weren’t gawping too badly. You find yourself staring at his ass as he goes through the door, and thankfully he doesn’t turn back.

The party itself passes like a whirlwind. You take a moment to admire the hall – Ayesha, Marcus and the others had gone all out with fairy lights and garlands of greenery – but only a moment. You’re busy serving food, cleaning up spills, trying to keep on top of the trash without getting in the way. Your elf dress is pretty floury and sugary, but there’s so much going on there’s no one to notice.

Tony Stark is there, in full Iron Man armour, and you’re surprised by how good he is with the kids, showing how his armour works, giving flying demonstrations, having friendly competitions with Sam Wilson who’s in his Falcon gear. Finally Tony dresses up as Santa, still wearing his armour, and gives all the kids the latest StarkEducation tablets from a massive festive sack.

You didn’t know what to expect from Natasha Romanov; you saw her on TV when she leaked all those files, and she didn’t seem like a holiday party person. You don’t notice her until one little boy, overwhelmed with all the excitement, starts crying. She takes hold of his hand and lifts him over the low rope that’s sectioning off the food tables while a game of musical chairs is going on. She raises a brow at you, and you pretend not to see as they sneak one of the cupcakes you’ve just put out.

And Steve... he seems to have endless patience for kids taking photos with him. Every time you see him, he’s surrounded, and you even see him letting kids sit in his shield while he spins it on the ground.

“Captain America decorated your gingerbread man,” you tell a little girl as she takes one from a plate, and you enjoy seeing her eyes widen.

“Captain America?” She says, loud, disbelieving.

“Yep. Captain America. He’s really talented, huh?”

You both look over to where he, Natasha, and a couple of older kids are playing Twister, with Iron Man calling out the colours. But as you watch, he loses his balance and falls.

“He’s not talented at Twister,” she says decidedly, taking a bite.

Finally everyone is gone. The Avengers, including Captain America, say a big goodbye to the children at the front. You don’t watch them leave – you have bags of rubbish to take to the bins, and so much washing up. But you shouldn’t begrudge the hard work, you think. Not when all the children had such a good time.

Dimly you hear the sounds of the kids leaving, and the Christmas music being switched off. Ayesha, Marcus on the others troop back and forth through the kitchen, but you don’t pay them very much attention; they have their jobs, and you have yours. You move on from washing to drying and putting away, trying not to look at the state of your dress – the flour and sugar now look streaky where you’ve dripped water on yourself. You stretch up to put the last pile of plates in the cupboard, and shut the door with a satisfying thunk. But somehow there, right in front of you—

“Steve! What are you doing here? I thought you’d have gone ages ago…” You can’t hide your smile – you didn’t expect to see him again.

“I needed to get my clothes,” he says, indicating his body, clad in street wear again.

“Don’t you have people for that?”

“Well... there was one other thing...” he runs a hand through his hair.

“Oh?”

“You mentioned that you missed your holiday tradition of going to see the Christmas lights in London. So I wondered if you’d like to get some food, and then join me for a New York tradition?”

“I would really like to... But... look at me. I can’t go out anywhere in this, and I didn’t bring a change of clothes. I look a fright.”

“I disagree. But you have a coat? I was actually thinking of a food truck I like. And it’s close to where I’d like to take you...”

“Then yes. Just give me a moment to finish up here...”

You wrap yourself up in your navy coat and multicolour hand-knit scarf, wondering, as you wave goodbye to Ayesha, if you’ll be walking to wherever you’re going. But Steve takes your arm and steers you to where a car is idling at the curb.

“Our ride,” he says, opening the door for you.

“Thanks,” you say, smiling up at him as you get into the car. You try to remember the last time someone did that for you. Of course it’s not necessary, you’re perfectly capable of opening doors yourself, but you appreciate the gesture. It makes you feel cared for.

“So where are we going?” You ask as the car starts moving. Steve sits beside you; he’s already exchanged words with the driver up front.

He tilts his head for a second, thinking. “I’m going to make it a surprise. But I think you’ll like it.”

“Meanie,” you say, pulling a face, but you can’t hold it for long before you both laugh.

You spend the drive to wherever it is you’re going – you pay enough attention to your dark surrounds to know you’re in Manhattan – chatting about Christmas traditions. He tells you how Tony likes to go all out, decorating the whole tower in lights, with Christmas trees all over the place, and you tell him about the walk your parents insisted the family take on Christmas Day before opening any presents.

You can’t see anything special about the street the car pulls over on, but Steve forestalls your questioning with a, “Soon,” as he opens the door for you. You’re not quite sure how he got to it so quickly, but you’re not complaining as he takes your hand, then tucks it into the crook of his arm.

There are lots of people around, all bundled up against the cold, all in a hurry to get somewhere, and while you don’t dawdle your pace is leisurely as you walk down the street together.

“Here we are. Some of the best steak on this island... But don’t tell Tony. He prefers the kind he flies in from Japan. They do have vegetarian options, too,” he adds, with a hint of worry in his voice.

“Steak sounds really good to me,” you say, and your stomach rumbles in assent. “I don’t think a murderous gingerbread man really counts for lunch.”

Steak tastes good, too: a cheesesteak with provolone, grilled onions, and hot sweet peppers. “This is delicious,” you say between mouthfuls, happy to see the smile in his eyes as he eats his. The food fills you and warms you, and you’re surprised by how much better you feel having had a proper meal. Being with Steve distracted you from feeling the tiredness you would expect after working on the party all day, but a proper meal really gives you energy.

“So now will you tell me where we’re going?” You ask, as Steve takes your arm again.

“We’re almost there. Just a block or so away…”

You know New York. Not brilliantly well – this is only your first year here, your first Christmas – but enough to have some idea of where things are. But something about Steve being there lets you turn the part of your brain that worries about such things off. You’re able to just walk with him. Enjoy being with him. Part of you marvels that you’re walking with an actual Avenger, who saved the city, and no-one seems to notice. But he is in civvies. It’s dark and he put on a hat in the car. And even you are beginning to think that seeing the occasional famous person is normal, especially in Manhattan. Perhaps they’re just used to it.

Steve guides you round a corner, and you gasp. In front of you is one of the tallest Christmas trees you’ve ever seen, glowing and sparkling with lights in all colours, topped off with a huge star.

“The Rockefeller Center tree. I don’t know how it compares to Oxford Street, but… coming to see it is my tradition.”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you for bringing me. It compares very well… How long have you been coming here?”

“I first came in about 1935. The ice rink wasn’t here yet. I came alone… I tried to get Bucky to come – he said kids parties weren’t really his thing, that’s why he wasn’t there today – but he thought it was stupid. Until I told him it would be a good place to take a girl. And after that I had to go by myself because he always took someone else. But this Christmas… this Christmas I brought you.” You turn from the tree at the tone of his voice; there’s a smile in it, but also a note of wonder.

“I don’t know if you skate, but if you want a better view, you can get one from the ice…”

“Not very well, but I enjoy it.” You look at the queue for the rink dubiously. “I’d like to, but this has got to be the kind of thing you have to book days in advance…”

“I try not to do this too often, but… I know a guy. Wait here.” Steve winks at you before going to talk to a member of staff. Mere moments later you’re being ushered down the steps to the top of the line, and offered skates.

“Let me guess. The guy is Tony Stark?”

“Yep. Got it in one.”

 You feel a little wobbly on the ice to begin with; it’s been a while since you did this, and you don’t want to embarrass yourself. Bu holding Steve’s hand? As you glide over the ice, lights changing from purple to pink to green, the crowd singing along to New York, New York... you know he’ll catch you if you fall.

The tree looks even more magical up close, casting its light over one end of the rink. And you wonder—

“Steve? Would you mind if we took a selfie? I won’t send it to anyone else, I’m sure you must value your privacy, but I’d just… like a reminder. Of you. Of here.”

“Sure. I trust you. But… can I take one as well? For Bucky? It would be the first time I…”

“I get it. Of course.”

He pulls you in close, and both your smiles are warm as he takes photos with first your phone, then his. You can see his artistic eye coming out again, in how he manages to frame both of you with the tree in the background, coloured lights from the rink hitting you at the side. And being that close… that’s a moment you’ll treasure. All the more for his trust in you.

“I suppose you take a lot of selfies,” you say when he’s done and you’re skating again.

“You have no idea. But I always want to make them look good, you know? It means a lot to people.”

“Yeah, it does.” You skate together in silence for a while, enjoying the feeling of the movement, the chill coming from the ice and Steve’s warmth next to you.

“So what do you think Bucky will say?” You ask, as you take your skates off.

“Why don’t we find out?” Steve is ahead of you with his shoes on already, and he’s tapping on his phone. You hear the tone of a message being sent. “How do you feel about going up to the observation deck while we wait for his reply?”

You thought that after skating he might just offer to take you home. But the exercise has left you feeling energised, and besides… you don’t want this evening to end.

“I would love to.”

“Good, because I got the tickets already.”

You nudge into him as you stand, rolling your eyes a little, but he gives you a little unrepentant shrug, puts an arm around you, and leads you up to the building. You’re too distracted by his presence, that much closer now, to pay too much attention to the what’s inside or what’s going on around you, but you’re directed straight to a lift – elevator, you remind yourself – and a staff member presses the button to call it.

Steve’s phone buzzes before the elevator gets there, and he unlocks it, showing you the message with a grin.

Are you where I think you are?? That’s MY date spot!

Where did you find a girl who’d go with you, anyway?

She’s cute who is she?

“You going to reply?” You look up at him with a grin, but the elevator arrives just then.

“Guess I’m going to make him wait a bit,” Steve sounds pleased as you’re ushered in.

There’s something magical about being so high up on a winter’s night, frost in the air, and the sparkling lights of the city spread out in every direction. You drink it in, aware of Steve’s attention on you.

“You like it?” He asks eventually, as you take in the sight of the Empire State Building, lit up in red, green, and white, and the A of the Avengers tower glowing off to the side.

You lean into him while you find the words. “Yeah, I… Every little light... someone put it there. Someone lit it. They represent the people in the city... and up here we’re above it all, but I feel connected to everything. Does that make sense?” You feel him nod his head. “Thank you for this,” you add softly. He doesn’t say anything, but tightens his arm round you.

As much as you enjoy the feel of being outside enjoying the view, and the immediacy of that as opposed to though glass, it is December. The air is crisp and you can see you breath, and your teeth start chattering a little even with Steve so close.

“You’re cold,” he says, a note of regret in his voice which you feel too. “We should…”

“Yeah. I think they’re going to kick us out in a minute anyway,” you say, watching as a staff member has a quiet word with another couple.

Steve’s hand finds yours in the car on the way back home. You’ve been in constant contact all evening, you realise, and you don’t want it to end. At first, you were star-struck – of course you were – but you feel like you’ve been able to see the real Steve today, this evening… and you really like him. You’re surprised by how much. You don’t like to rush into things; you’ve learned that can lead to pain and hurt. But you think, as you watch dark streets whizzing by, with Steve, you could make an exception.

Your phone buzzes, interrupting your reverie, and you manage to get it out one-handed, keeping that contact with Steve. You see a text from Macy.

Thanks for everything today, heard you did amazing, I’m so so grateful! Ayesha says she saw you leave with Steve Rogers?! Did he take you out somewhere nice? Did you have a good time? Hope so, u deserve it x

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just Macy from work. Ayesha told her about our—our date. She wants to know if I had a good time.”

“Oh? And what will you tell her?”

“The best. I’m telling her I had the best time.” You look at him sidelong. “What did you tell Bucky?”

His voice is soft when he replies. Thoughtful. Almost like he’s talking to himself. “That I didn’t want it to end.”

The car pulls up to the curb then, and you make a decision.

“It doesn’t have to. I know we’ve had a chance to warm up in the car, but I have hot chocolate in my apartment – the good stuff. Would you like to come up for a mug?”

You worry as soon as you’ve said it. Did you overstep? Steve didn’t give the impression of being the type of person who rushes into things either. But he smiles a slow small smile.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He nods. “I’d like that a lot.”

Your apartment is tiny, but you keep it neat. Tidy. You bought the bare minimum of stuff when you moved in; partly because you weren’t exactly flush, and partly because you like your space to be... spacious, as much as it can be. New York was a new start, and you left your clutter in England. And you’ve come to appreciate coming home to a made bed and everything squared away. And it stands you in good stead now; you know, as you struggle a little with opening the building door with an audience, that there won’t be anything embarrassing on display when you get up there.

You feel tension within you rising as you climb the stairs, and you think you feel it from Steve too. He crowds close to you as you open your door. Your little Christmas tree glows with soft colours in the corner, casting just enough light to see by.

Just enough light, as you take a couple of steps into the room and turn back to Steve, to see that his eyes are hot with desire. And you know yours must be too.

“Is this okay?” He asks, reaching out to you, trailing a finger down your face. Your lips part on a gasp but you manage to nod, and then you’re kissing. His lips are soft and warm, and he pushes you back against the wall as the kiss deepens, his body pressing against you, and his tongue exploring your mouth. You raise a hand to his face, tracing his jawline, feeling that little bit of stubble, then you move your hands over his body, enjoying his muscles before you push at his coat. You part for a moment as he shrugs out of it, but you’re kissing again, hungry, as soon as he’s helped you out of yours.

Perhaps you can have mochas in the morning.

*

“Can I ask you a question?” Steve asks, tone a bit shy, over his scrambled eggs on toast. He’s sitting in your rarely used second dining chair, across your little round table.

When you woke this morning, you had almost thought last night must have been a dream… Except… you were in the arms of an Avenger, and you felt warm, comfortable, and safe. His arms tightened around you as he woke too, and he kissed you and... you didn’t get to breakfast for a while.

“Sure? What is it?” You take a sip of your coffee – you had made mochas using your fancy espresso machine, one of the few real luxuries in your apartment – and it tastes delicious.

“Do you have Christmas plans? Something with your friends?”

“I don’t have that many friends here yet, I guess. But most of them will be out of town for Christmas, and those that aren’t are with family.” You shrug. “I don’t mind. My plans are FaceTime call with my family, then I have a little turkey joint in the freezer. And I might watch Die Hard. Or something from the Netflix Holiday Movie Universe. Depending on my mood. Why?”

“I was— wait. Netflix Holiday Movie Universe?”

“Yes, that is a thing.” You shake your head. “You don’t want to know, honestly.”

He chuckles. “I probably don’t. But I asked about plans because… it may seem a bit soon, but I wondered if you’d like to come to the tower, and spend Christmas with me? It’s an… unconventional… second date, but I really like you. A lot. Last night, this morning… showed that, I guess. And I hate to think of you being alone on the day. I won’t be offended if you say no. And you don’t have to decide now. But… the offer’s there.”

You sip your coffee again, thinking about it. You would be… if not happy, content to spend Christmas alone; you would have preferred to spend it with friends, but you didn’t feel hard done by because they couldn’t host you. And meeting the rest of the Avengers… they must be like Steve’s family, you think. Meeting them could be a lot. But behind the costumes, they’re (mostly) regular people, just like Steve. And it may only have been one night, but he is already… special... to you.

“Thank you. I... I would love to come.” You feel the corners of your lips quirk up. “If you’ll help me decorate some more gingerbread as gifts.”

Steve’s smile lights up his face. “Perhaps we can do a gingerbread Avengers tower?”

You laugh. “Why not?”

#Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x Reader #Captain America #Captain America x Reader #fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #writer wednesday #writings of the girl from outer space #mcu #unashamed fluff

[inskz]

lucky charm - lee minho

pairing - lee minho x reader

genre - college!au, best friends to lovers, very cliche fluff (lucky girl starring lindsey lohan kinda vibes???)

words - 4k

note - this is just a cute little drabble i wrote while im still waiting for my covid test results to come back so that i can leave my room and see the sun again 🤪 pls be careful everybody take care of your health 💚 enjoy!!!

- - - - -

“You must be kidding me,” you sigh when you see Minho’s hand has turned into a fist, his rock crushing miserably your scissors. Once again, you lost at rock, paper, scissors. And once again, you’re the one that is going to wash your best friend’s dishes that have piled up in is tiny kitchen sink throughout the week.

“Fuck that. This is so unfair,” you grumble, throwing the dishtowel in Minho’s stupid yet perfectly chiseled face.

You make a beeline for his bed, which is actually only a few steps away from the kitchen. Being a broke college student definitely doesn’t allow him to rent a spacious studio, let alone a two-room apartment. You throw yourself headfirst onto his uncomfortable mattress, whose springs always poke your back at night.

“Life is so unfair,” your friend mocks you, dragging out every vowel of his sentence dramatically.

No doubt, you would be strangling him at that very moment if you weren’t so busy playing dead, hoping he would forget about your pitiful existence.

But there is no way mister Lee Minho would miss out on an opportunity to have his gross plates cleaned by someone else. Grabbing onto your ankle, he drags you out of bed until you plop down on the dirty carpeted floor (Minho has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate vacuuming too). At this point, you are fake crying, throwing a literal tantrum, like a 6 years old child would.

“Life is unfair!” you yell, your feet kicking in the air in pure anger.

At least it is to you. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been lucky. The only instance you got remotely close to it was when you found a four-leaf clover last summer. Well, only if you disregard the fact you stepped into dog poop  on your way to picking it. Oh and that you were wearing brand new white Converse. 

On the other hand, it seems like the boy has the whole crew of the Olympus gods on his side. Not one day goes by without his guardian angel manifesting its presence. 

Minho has always been the lucky type. The type to get an extra nugget in his box of 10. To find 20 dollars bills on the ground. To win every single Instagram giveaway he participates to (and lord knows how much he likes participating to them). 

But how can you be mad at him when he always happily shares his food with you, invites you to the restaurant without you even asking, and gives you his prizes, pretending he doesn’t need them? You don’t believe him when he says he see no use in a panda onesie or a waterproof bluetooth speaker. Deep down, you know it’s his way to silently love you. 

But well, you can still blame him for occasionally taking advantage of your misfortune to make you do his dreaded house chores, just like right now. 

Everyone thinks you are a bizarre duo. Even you can’t fathom how in hell you two became best friends, considering how awfully your first encounter went three years ago. 

On orientation day, he asked you for the time, probably because his phone was dead (or maybe because he was dying to talk to you?)

Without hesitation, you lifted and rotated your wrist so that you could see your watch. Little did you remember; you never actually owned a watch and you were holding a fancy 7 dollars iced coffee, which, of course, did not have a lid on because plastic is bad for the environment (duh). 

Minho couldn’t help but burst out in hysterical laughter when the whole drink spilled on your jeans. For your defense, you didn’t sleep at all the night before  since you were terrified of being alone in your new dorm room the first few days (weird stuff happens all the time in dorms, okay?). If he had asked you for your name, you probably wouldn’t even have been able to tell him. 

But Minho thought you were the funniest person on campus, and he really needed a clown like you to entertain him throughout his endless college semesters. That’s what he told you anyways. Not that he thought you were the cutest human being he had ever seen. 

Why would he when you are the literal definition of a mess: always having toothpaste stains on your sweater, bags under your eyes, messy hair, tripping and falling, missing buses, breaking things, losing stuff. 

Most of the time, you just forget your keys and Minho lets you crash at his place since he hasn’t got any roommate and he isn’t used to sleeping alone, especially without his cats. It surely isn’t because he loves waking up next to a very groggy but adorable you every single morning, no.  

Minho manages to bring you back to the countertop despite your reluctance. Positioned behind you, his arms trapping your body to make sure you can’t run away from your duties, he dips your hands into the soapy water, and you can’t help but squirm at the touch of an unknown substance sticking to a plate that has probably been soaking here for a week. You despise doing the dishes and your friend knows it.

You hear him giggle in your ear while he is playing with your arms like you are some type of marionette, making you to take the sponge and squeeze dish soap onto it. 

You’ve never been the kind to like proximity nor seemed to be Minho, but for some reason, you always end up glued to each other. You hate public displays of attention and pet names a little less when it comes from him. Or maybe you don’t hate it at all and actually crave it every single minute that goes by.

Before he has the time to come up with the Machiavellian idea to soak your pajamas in dirty water (because you know he would inevitably have at some point), you yank his hands off of you and start scrubbing angrily the dirty cups. 

Minho stays behind you anyways, observing your every move, his chin propped up on your shoulder like a curious little bird. To be honest, his presence is kind of getting overwhelming. But whatever, it’s not like his slightest touch makes your heart warm up in comfort or that he smells like fresh linen drying out on the porch of a cottage house on a sunny Sunday morning or anything. 

“You missed a spot. Here” he murmurs teasingly, his lips almost touching your earlobe, while he points at the handle of his hideous ‘world’s greatest dad’ mug Jisung gifted him last christmas. 

You know he has noticed the way you shivered violently at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin because he starts snickering loudly. 

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up and go seat on the couch, I’ll slap you so hard with this spatula you’ll regret you were even born,” you say, turning around suddenly to menace him with the plastic utensil. 

Of course, he isn’t afraid one bit. Right now, you really wish you could make the smug, but oh so attractive, look on his face disappear. 

“Alright, ma’am” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let you do your thing”. He lets himself fall onto his dingy couch. 

You can hear him humming one of his favorite songs above the sound of the water running. It would probably be getting on your nerves if his voice wasn’t so pretty.  

“Chan’s sick, so we’re not going to the gym tomorrow night. Do you wanna eat tacos? El Huero has even better deals than usual” he asks you, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. 

“Aren’t the deals supposed to be on Tuesdays?” You frown and scrub a little harder the frying pan Minho has burnt the night before while trying to make chocolate chips pancakes for diner, because why eat savory food when you can have dessert for every meal, right? It is one of the few advantages of living without your parents you both truly enjoy. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Tomorrow,” he yawns, probably exhausted after what you put him through last night. You forced him to catch up on the entire season of Love Island because you desperately needed someone to bitch with, and what better partner than Lee Minho.  

You take a quick glance at him and see him stretching himself across the cushions like a cat. You always thought there was something feline about his features. While you’re drying the mugs with the dishtowel, your mind wanders uncontrollably, thinking about his piercing eyes, his delicate nose, the corners of his lips that curl up a little… 

All of the sudden, your hands freeze. Minho is too immersed in TikToks to notice the stupor on your face. “Wait. Today is… Monday?” you stutter. 

Alarmed by the sound of your voice, his eyes finally leave his phone’s screen to look up at you. “Yeah” he repeats slowly as if you are the dumbest person he has ever encountered. 

And you truly are. You are pretty sure your heart has stopped beating. Minho’s “world’s greatest dad” mug you’re holding slips between your fingers and comes crashing on the floor with a deafening sound. The pieces are now scattered all around you, making you unable to make out what’s written on it anymore. Not a big loss, if you ask. 

“Y/N, you know that’s my favorite mug!” he exclaims, leaping up from the couch. “I’m sure you did it on purpose,” he mutters while he’s trying to collect the small fragments, in vain. 

But you’re too shocked at this very moment to pay attention to the glare your friend is giving you. To be honest, Minho has only two moods: glaring at you or teasing you.  

“My interview,” you finally manage to say, and Minho’s eyes go wide as he realizes the critical situation you’re in. 

You check the time on the microwave: 10:45. In 30 minutes, you’re supposed to be on the other side of town, being interrogated by boring businessmen that are going to decide whether or not you’ll be accepted for a paid internship in one of the most reputable music label of the country. Basically, decide whether you’ll live a happy and fulfilling life, working in the sector you’ve always dreamed of or end up miserable with a boring office job and a massive college debt. 

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. You can see a wave of panic washing across his face for a split second, but, as always, he manages to find his composure back immediately. 

He has never been the kind to lose his cool, except to scold you when you forget the names of his cats and their respective coats’ color (which you unfortunately often did forget). 

“What are you doing? Get dressed!” He tells you when he sees you’re still standing there dumbfounded in the kitchen, like the famous Robert Pattinson meme, wearing an oversize Kermit the frog shirt with a dozen holes in it and his favorite Adidas sweatpants you always stole from him.

“No, it’s too late. I can’t make it,” you mutter, your breath short. You’re paralyzed, as if there is a 20lbs rock sitting at the bottom of your stomach, pinning you to the ground. 

This isn’t bad luck, you think. This is karma. This is what you get for skipping classes to watch telereality shows in your bed with your best friend and not even realizing it isn’t the weekend anymore.

“Miss me with that bullshit.” He runs to his closet and rummages through his drawers, throwing every piece of clothing that’s on his way to find an appropriate outfit that would fit you. 

“You’re gonna go do this interview even if I have to drag you all the way there.” He pushes you into his bathroom since you still haven’t moved an inch. 

You manage to brush your teeth and your hair, fighting through the nauseous feeling that is building up in your tummy. 

When you come back to the living room, Minho has found dress pants and a sweater that might not look utterly ridiculous on you. He lets you change in a corner, while he runs around the room collecting all your essentials. 

“You’re coming?” you ask him when you see he is already wearing his puffer jacket.  

“You really think I’m gonna let you go all by yourself when you’re literally not even able to put your shoes on properly”. You are, indeed, struggling with your laces, as if your fingers are suddenly made out of butter. 

Minho ties them up for you and you literally feel like he’s your babysitter. You know you’re gonna hear about this for months – what are you saying- years! But all you can think about at the moment though, is the fact that sneakers are definitely not appropriate for an interview. 

He throws your warmest coat at you, grab his keys, and by some type of miracle, you’re both out to the door in less than 10 minutes. 

You try to call the elevator, but Minho grabs your arm and leads you to the staircase. His hand never leaving yours, he runs down the stairs and you have no choice but to follow him as fast as you can. 

You can’t count how many times you missed a step and fell at this particularly slippery spot, between the 5th and the 4th floor, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t happen today. 

When you finally reach the ground floor, you exit the complex and Minho hops on his old and rusty bike that he had attached to nearest tree the night before.

“There’s no way I’m riding behind you on this death machine,” you laugh nervously. The memory of that one time Minho convinced you to seat into his bicycle basket (as if you could even realistically fit in it) and you both fell seconds after he started to pedal is coming back to your mind.

Sure, it was after a long night of drinking, you were both tipsy and it was the only way to get you home since you had spent all your uber money at the bar, but still! You’re pretty sure the bruise on your butt hasn’t disappeared to this day.  

“Hurry up,” Minho groans, ignoring your complaint. You unwillingly seat on his flimsy pannier rack and wrap your arms around his torso. 

You haven’t even left, yet you’re already holding onto his puffer jacket for dear life. A giggle escapes your friend’s mouth (which you think is very inappropriate in such a desperate situation) before he lifts his feet off the ground and starts pedaling. 

You try to ignore the loud squeaking of the bicycle drive by shutting your eyes tighter and rehearsing your introduction you have prepared over and over in your head. No matter how hard you are trying, you can’t remember what you are supposed to say just after your age (which, as you can imagine, isn’t really far into your monologue). 

By the way the wind is lashing your face, you can tell Minho has picked up the speed. His breathing is getting louder, his heartbeat faster and you can’t help but think you’re probably way too heavy for him to bike you around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t skip his gym sessions with Chan so often. Or maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the leftover pancakes for breakfast after all.

You find the courage to open your eyelids and are pleased to see you’re already halfway there, probably because every single one of the traffic lights you encounter is green, and your friend is going surprisingly fast. Is luck finally starting to smile upon you? 

Your mad race comes to a halt when you reach the address of your interview. You hop off the bike and so does Minho who, by the way, is a panting mess. He’s barely able to catch his breath, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he’s beaming at you when he realizes you’re just on time. 

“Go” he gasps, pushing you in the direction of the building’s hall. 

You walk up to the glass door but as your hands are about to push it, you pull a 180. Your friend sighs loudly, already knowing what’s coming next. 

“Wait. No. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared” you tell him frantically. “I’m freaking out. I think I’m gonna pass out.” You are now walking in circles, mumbling incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Your heart is racing in your chest and your hands are getting clammy at the simple thought of failure. But guess what? You can’t fail if you don’t even try! One more good reason to just go back to bed and forget about your sad life for a good 8 hours, right? 

“Y/N, you’re the most talented person I know, you’re gonna do just fine” Minho catches you in his arm to stop your endless pacing. You would probably think this gesture is endearing if it wasn’t just meant to make sure you couldn’t run for your life.  

“No, I’m not. What if I throw up in front of everybody like that one time during the Romeo and Juliet musical?” You look up at him and his face is only inches away from yours. You’re sure you would be swooning at how beautiful he looks if you weren’t so terrified at this very moment.

“You were nine,” your best friend says, and you swear you have never heard him speak to you in such a sweet tone before. His voice is like honey and lavander but it doesn’t soothe you like it should. 

You manage to break free from his embrace to crouch down, in an attempt to slow down your breathing. If only you had data left, you could be watching those short relaxing videos on your phone. They always work. But no, you had to spent it all on online games, just one week into the month. You really are beyond help.  

“Y/N I know you’re scared, but if you miss out on this opportunity, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” Minho is lowering himself so that you can hear him, even though you’re curled up in a ball. 

“And I’m warning you, I won’t want to hear you complain about it,” he adds, this whole situation obviously starting to get on his nerves. 

If you were him, you would have probably left a long time ago. But this isn’t your best friend’s way of behaving. You know he would never abandon you no matter how annoying you could be (and you could be very annoying sometimes). After all, he is always the one holding your hair while you puke in the toilets when you had a couple too many drinks.

It takes all your willpower to stand up but there is no other way, you have to do it. You can hear the time ticking dangerously in your mind, as if your brain had turned into a clock.

“You’re right. Slap me,” you say, looking at him straight in the eyes, dead serious. 

“Wha -“

“Slap some sense into me. They do that in movies when people are panicking. It’s like throwing a bucket of cold water in someone’s face. But clearly we don’t have a bucket and we don’t have cold wa- “ you start blabbering. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not gonna slap you!” Your friend isn’t usually that horrified at the thought of beating your ass. In fact, he has felt the desire to rip your head off more than once, especially when you’d steal all the duvet at night, but at this moment he is just scared you might have actually lost your mind.  

“Just fucking do it Minho!” you scream, your hands clenching the front of his grey hoodie he always looks so divine in. 

Minho has never obeyed you, and this is not the day he is going to start. 

He puts both of his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips onto yours. 

You would be lying if you said you have never imagined the day your best friend would kiss you. It happens pretty much every single time you look at his cute pout a little too long. But one thing is certain, it isn’t like you pictured it to be at all.

You were convinced your heart would go so wild it would burst out of your chest and your head would spin so furiously you’d lose your balance. You thought your stomach would fill with butterflies to the brim and your whole body would be on fire.

But none of that is happening. On the contrary, every single muscle in your body relaxes under his touch. The way his soft mouth presses gently against yours makes you calmer, almost at peace amongst all this turmoil. 

Minho is kissing all your tension and stress away and you catch yourself letting a sigh of relief escape your parted lips.

As if you have kissed him already hundreds of times in your past life, Minho feels like home. He’s a safe haven you can always take refuge in during troubled times. Ever since the day you met, he has never left your side.

When he breaks away from the kiss, you notice your breath isn’t so ragged and your mind isn’t so foggy anymore. You’re serene. His cold hands are still cupping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks, and you feel like an idiot sandwich for asking him to slap you seconds before.

“That can work too, I guess…” you mutter.  

“You’re okay?” he asks, staring at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You just nod, unable to say one more word, and sprint to the entrance, not wanting to make your interviewers wait any longer than they already have.

“Good luck!” You hear him yell just before the door closes behind you and you can’t help but grin from ear to ear.

- - - - - 

Thirty minutes later, you finally step out of the fancy lobby to find a very bored Minho leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for you.

“You’re still here?”

“Of course, I am,” he says, his mouth full of croissant. He gives you a large iced coffee he probably went buying to kill time. Your lips unconsciously curl up into a smile when you notice it comes from the same chain that the one you spilled on your lap on the day you first met him. 

“How did it go?” he asks you, sticking his buttery pastry into your mouth so that you can take a bite.

“Way better than I thought” you answer, right after you swallowed. You hate the way flakes would always get stuck between your teeth. But Minho is always there to warn you about it before anyone else notices, and even pick them for you if you can’t manage to, which, when you think about it, is kind of gross. 

There are two things the boy knows about you: you’re the greatest pessimist on earth and you’d rather die than admit you were wrong (especially if it meant he was right). So for you to even say it wasn’t that bad, means it went phenomenal. 

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but I told you so.” He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes anymore. You have to look away, otherwise you know you might become instantly blinded by love.

“Maybe I could use some more of your luck” you mumble, staring at your shoes and kicking the red leaves that were surrounding your feet on this sunny autumn morning. 

“Really? And what makes you think I’ll share it with you,” he teases you, leaning forward to incite you to look at him in the eyes. 

“That.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him in, in order to close the space that is still left between your mouths.

At first, Minho stiffens, taken aback by your bold move. But soon enough, he caves into your touch. He kisses you back fervently, like he means it. 

His fingers entagle in your hair, his arm wraps around your waist and his chest presses against your body. You’re melting in his embrace, submerged by a wave of bliss which he alone seems to know the recipe. 

It feels new, yet so familiar. Like it was supposed to happen, like it was written in the stars. 

He tastes like croissant and Americano. Like fortune and fate. 

And you can’t help but think you’re the luckiest person on earth.

Who cares about winning the lottery when Lee Minho is your lucky charm? 

#lee know scenarios #lee know fic #lee know fluff #minho scenarios #minho imagines #minho fluff #lee know imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz au #skz scenarios #skz fic #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz drabbles #stray kids drabbles #lee minho drabbles #lee know drabbles #as u can probably tell I still don’t know what tags to write oooppsss