#I meant to start this yesterday whoops

[delirious-donna]

The Best Worst Father’s Day [Nanami Kento]

an: I wrote this in like 20 minutes because i was ‘inspired’. Kento deserves a fantastic Father’s Day but let’s be real… kids are not always willing to deliver

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: fluff, mention of a child, suggestive at the end, kids being assholes, tantrums (not just the kid), Kento being a fucking hero, breeding kink (if you squint)

Masterlist

It was Father’s Day and it also marked the day that your precious bundle of not-so-small joy decided that they were going to be a nightmare. All day.

The morning started out on the right foot, Kento snoozing peacefully with his sleep-soaked face pressed into the spill of your cleavage, a subtle drunk smile plastered to his face. Awoken by the telltale stomps of what your child affectionately tried to pass as tiptoes grew closer to your bedroom door, you blinked away the dregs of sleep just in time. A head peeked inside, drowsy and rubbing their eyes with a beloved teddy bear tucked under one arm like a newspaper.

You smiled and whispered a good morning before pressing your finger to your lips and pointing to their sleeping father. The answering giggle melted your heart as you heard them scamper downstairs, awaiting their breakfast and entertainment for the morning.

Lost in a kaleidoscope of rose-tinted memories that led to this moment, you combed softly through the blond locks of hair hanging low on his brow. Kento shifted, his eyebrows pinching and smoothing out until he rolled over and continued to sleep. He deserved it, he really did.

All those nighttime feedings, endless nappies changed, hours of reflux and windings that never seemed to yield results. The skinned knees and the tears. A million cups of tea at your bedside table before your bleary eyes even opened for the day. Car seats researched to the nth degree for safety reviews and practicality. First steps. Their first word, and of course it was ‘dada’.

The years had sped by at an alarming rate, feeling as those dark tortuous hours in the depths of winter were only yesterday. There had been far more good times than bad, and without Kento by your side the whole time, you weren’t sure how you would have managed. He might not be your Father, but you were determined his day would be one of the best.

However, that slice of idyllic tranquility would be the last, although you did not yet know it.

Whether the stars had misaligned or some demonic imp had decided today was the perfect day to toy with the emotions of a young child, you didn’t know. What you did know was that they were ‘on one’, and no amount of coaxing or reminders of whose special day it was would deter their rampant destruction.

Kento, diligent and steadfast as ever, refused to back away from the plate. He smiled through the gift giving which consisted of a beautiful handmade card by his darling angel, the very same darling angel who was kicking off because they couldn’t watch their favourite tv show right now. Aptly, the bottle of whisky could not have been a better choice, and he glanced surreptitiously at you with a knowing smile.

From there it went from bad to worse. Tantrums and tears, and not only from the hellspawn, ensued. Your sobs of “you’re meant to be relaxing today, not doing all of this” fell on deaf ears. No amount of cajoling or attempts by you were working, leaving Kento to swoop in like a hero just minus the cape and with the addition of a garish tie.

You watched from the kitchen door, enormous mug of tea in hand and a tissue dabbing your puffy eyes as Kento chased your child around the garden. The laughter broke your heart, but in that way that a happy ending in a movie also broke your heart.

There he was, the man infamously referred to as stoic and reserved, growling like a lion and throwing your little darling around to hollering whoops of laughter. If only they could see what you saw, if only they had known right from day one that behind the cool facade was a man that would do anything for his family—for his wife.

With energy levels finally depleted and the boss level of bath and bedtime tackled and won, you fell into his open arms. Your nose buried in the collar of his shirt, inhaling the spice from dinner on his skin and drinking in the warmth he exuded.

“I’m sorry, Kento,” you mumbled, lip wobbling from the stresses of the day. The anger that had sizzled in your veins only hours ago defused into a mass of misery.

“For what?”

“For the shitshow that was today! Don’t ‘for what’ me.”

Kento tilted your head up, his thumb beneath your chin and his lips upon yours in a soft rush that surprised you. The red wine from dinner melted onto your tongue, pushed deeper as he took and took, only to give back everything and more.

Finally, he pulled back with a contented hum. “Father’s Day is all well and good, but you gave me the best gift you ever could years ago… a baby that has grown into a wilful little mischief maker just like their mother.”

If you weren’t already emotional, you sure were now. Tears brimmed in your eyes only to be caught on the pads of his thumbs. Soft kisses decorated your cheeks and you grasped fistfuls of his shirt in earnest.

“Better stop talking like that, or I’ll give you another one, mister.”

“Mm, now that has made my day. I’ll give you to the count of ten to strip and kneel on the bed,” he breathed in your ear, biting the shell and playfully grabbing at your backside.

“One… two…”

[flemingsfreckles]

Replacement pt. 1

Jessie Fleming x Reader (enemies to lovers)

Synopsis: Jessie transfers to your team in Portland, while everyone else seems to be thrilled about her transfer, you see the girl as a threat to your position and playing time with the team.

Warnings: cursing

WC: 2.4K (this is just set up, the other parts will be longer)

A/N: this is a LONG overdue series I started writing when Jessie first transferred to Portland, I just have had some serious writers block with it. But I’ve finally been able to get some of it down. It is enemies to lovers, so it will be rough and angsty at the start but give it some time :)

Everyone had seen the rumors flying around. You heard the whispers of your teammates at training yesterday afternoon after they had all seen the supposed transfer news. Just like any other fan or team, you all loved the speculation. Your teammates loved it even more when it surrounded bringing a big name on to your team for once instead of Gotham like everyone else. Janine and Christine spent most of their practice trying to dodge questions about their fellow Canadian teammate, not giving away any details of what they did or didn’t know.

You couldn’t lie, you often fed into the spectacle of transfer rumors, chatting with your team about where people might be headed. Something about this transfer rubbed you the wrong way. Maybe it was because you felt threatened. You were a midfielder as well. If you’re being honest with yourself, your first season in the league, fresh out of college, had not gone to plan.

Being drafted second you were expected to perform well, and the transition into the NWSL from the NCAA had been anything but smooth. You had a few minor injuries, a strain here and there, with the addition of a minor concussion. You ended up with an overall disappointing season. It wasn’t due to your lack of effort, you pushed yourself as hard if not harder than most players, it just hadn’t yet paid off.

Jessies arrival meant you’d likely be finding yourself sitting on the bench more and more often. They were bringing in someone who could actually help the team. They were bringing in your replacement in the form of an incredibly skilled and experienced midfielder.

You tried to remember that they were just rumors, she wasn’t confirmed to being transferring. What small hope you had was quickly diminished when you got the team message from staff asking that you all arrive to practice 20 minutes early for a “quick meeting”.

So when you walked into the meeting room, slouching in your seat next to Sam and Janine with a huff, they both turned to look at you. They had both taken you under their wing when you joined the team, being your first friends in Portland. They would come over when you were injured, helping take you to and from training, and helping you get acquainted with the city.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of their bed, damn.” Janine looked at you with wide eyes. It was uncharacteristic behavior being so cranky, even with how poorly your season was last year, you were typically upbeat, trying to make your teammates laugh, keeping practice lighthearted.

“Shut it Beckie.” You muttered in her direction. Sam looked at you, wide eyes before slowly turning to face forward not wanting to get on your bad side. Your coach walking in shortly after, not giving Janine the chance to respond. You’re not sure she would have even had something to say as she just stared at you, mouth open at the fact that you had just talked back to her.

“Alright, quiet down everyone,” your coach held his hands up. “I’m sure everyone has already seen the rumors floating around our club. We hadn’t planned to announce it until she was actually here to introduce herself but as of a couple hours ago, we have officially agreed to terms with and will be welcoming another Canadian,” he shoots a look at Janine and Sinc, “Jessie Fleming will be joining us.” A couple of whoops and hollers scattered across the room. “She’ll be starting with us at practice in two days. I expect, as you all have with our other transfers and signings, that you welcome her to Portland.”

While the rest of the team seemed to be thrilled at the idea of Fleming joining the team, you dodged every conversation you could about her.

Thankfully training was short, with the season just beginning you were completing fitness testing, getting both benchmarks for the season and learning how well everyone had kept up with their fitness during the off season. After warming up, everyone ran the well known and well dreaded “beep test”. It may be dreaded to most, but as a midfielder you had some of the best cardio fitness. It was days like this where your confidence rose, feeling comfortable through the test, nothing to worry about except running.

By the end of the test, you were one of the only players still running, your lungs were burning with each breath you took, the lactic acid building up in your thighs and calves. You finally dropped to your knees, unable to run any further. You found yourself kneeling next to Janine before rolling over to sit. Placing your head between your knees you breathed, listening to your teammates around you also panting, some coughing, some cursing the test for existing. You laid back fully putting up one leg straight in the air. A smile crept across your face, something about the burning of your lungs and your legs nearly cramping felt so good, a small reminder of your hard work.

“You mind helping me stretch?” Reaching out an arm you smack Janine next to you. Easily convinced, she stands up moving over to you placing herself to hold the foot in the air. She gently begins to press it toward your chest, your hamstring straining as she pushes your leg further.

“You’re fucking crazy for smiling after that test.” Janine rolling her eyes at you, a small cough coming out after as she can still feel her lungs burning. “I can’t believe I’m going to have to deal with two of you now.”

“What does that mean? Two of us?” You send her a pointed look before laying back letting your head fall back against the grass. Janine drops your leg, grabbing the other one before repeating the stretching motion.

“It means, I’ll now have to deal with you and Jessie running circles around me and the rest of this team. Literally circles.” She huffs.

“Right.” You felt the smile drop from your face, you had been able to forget about your replacement’s arrival. Janine noticed instantaneous change in your emotions at the mention of Jessie. She made a mental note to check in with you later, not while you were still on the sidelines of the pitch with the entire team.

Once everyone cooled down from the test, you stretched more, before heading into the locker room. You grab a protein bar and electrolytes from the shelf before hopping into the ice bath. Janine follows you, hopping in as well, making a comment about how cold it was as she shivers.

“Hey, I know we usually go for coffee after practice. We can still do that, it's just that I had offered to help Jessie unpack. She got in last night and didn’t really get settled. I’m supposed to meet her at her new place in about an hour, so I won't be able to stay for too long. It’ll have to be more of a grab and go kind of thing.” Janine looks at you, you both standing in the ice cold water, your shirts held up to avoid getting them wet.

Part of you is annoyed at her. You two always grabbed coffee, it was an unspoken activity, occasionally another teammate or two tagging along. You two would get coffee, you’d vent to each other, chat about the tv shows you were watching, Janine would talk about her wedding. It was something Janine started with you when you were new to the team, she was doing it to make you feel comfortable at the start and it quickly developed into a genuine friendship. Now Jessie was going to replace you at work and in Janine’s life too.

“Just go to hers, it's all good. We can skip this week.” You try not to sound upset, already feeling replaced by Jessie’s arrival in the form of losing your coffee “date”.

“Sorry, I would have said something sooner but with the transfer not public yet, I just didn’t want to get her in trouble or anything.” She pauses for a moment. “Actually, why don't you come with me to Jessie’s? I really think you two will get on well, plus it’ll be a good way to introduce you two.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn't want to just show up, I mean I don't know her and unpacking her stuff would be a little personal, it just probably isn't the best time for me to meet her.” Coming up with the best excuse you could come up with without flat out telling Janine that you don't want to meet one of her favorite people. You had heard plenty about Jessie before from Janine, only before it didn’t bother you. Before it was just hearing about one of Janine’s best friends, now it had a different sting when she was brought up. Now she was talking about the girl coming to take your spot.

“Alright, well I’m still grabbing coffee because I thought we’d be going and I promised Jessie I’d bring her one. Come with me at least then we can split?” You know Janine has zero negative intentions, she still was trying to have your usual coffee while also being an incredible friend and going to help Jessie move in.

“Fine, twist my arm.” You add sarcasm into your sentence, it wasn’t too hard to get you to go get a coffee, it was one of your favorite drinks, you spent way to much time and money on it, even having your own espresso machine at home with a bean grinder and all. Janine always joked that you could just run your own coffee shop out of your apartment for extra money.

You get to the coffee shop, when you walk in the barista gives you a wave, you and Janine were frequent visitors, the baristas all knew you and your orders.

“Are we getting the usual ladies?” The girl behind the counter asks, already starting to punch in the order on her screen.

“I am, but can we get them to-go, thank you.” You tell her. She puts in the order for your cold brew with caramel foam.

“I am, but I’m also going to add another drink, can I just get a latte with the lavender syrup please.”

On a normal day, if you weren’t in such an upset and negative mood you would’ve mocking the way Janine says syrup, but you don’t. You also mentally gag at the coffee she ordered for Jessie, lavender tasted like old lady soap. You mentally added it to the list of reasons to avoid the new transfer. It was childish what you were doing but you didn’t care.

You reach to get your card out, Janine beats you to it tapping her card on the register. “Janine, no.” It was your turn to pay, the two of you alternated.

“Please it’s the least I can do given I’m ditching you today.” She shoots you a sympathetic look.

“Alright.” You rolls your eyes at her as you hear your name called from the other end of the counter where your drink was placed.

You grab your drink and turn to walk out of the shop. The shop wasn’t too far from your apartment, a couple of blocks, and you figured you could walk so Janine didn’t have to drop you off at your house before heading to Jessie’s.

“Hey, where are you running off to, I’ll drive you.”

“Oh, no I’m good, I don’t want to make your trip longer.” You also had enough social interaction for today, a short walk alone wouldn’t be the worst thing.

“Well Jessie’s new place is just across the street from yours, so I’ll be going that way anyway.”

Of course Jessie moved in right across the street, out of all the apartment buildings in Portland of course she found herself the closest one, besides literally being in your building.

Janine grabs hers and Jessie’s drinks and you both walk back to her car. The two of you chat again, complaining about the weather and how it couldn’t make up its mind if it’s was winter or spring yet. You both coo over a dog walking down the street and for a second the conversation is light, it feels normal again. Until Janine brings up Jessie again.

“Hey, would you mind if I give Jess your number? I just figured I’d maybe be nice, you guys live across the street from each other, if she needed anything while she’s still moving in, store or food recommendations, you could help.”

You wanted to say no. But the girl was going to end up with your number anyway, you had to be teammates, you’d have to be cordial with her, you couldn’t let your own pride be a problem for the team.

“Yeah, that’s fine I guess.” Your mood deflated, the words coming out of your mouth with a heavy sigh at the end, making it obvious you weren’t thrilled about the suggestion for her to have your number.

“Are you alright? You’ve seemed weird all day. Is it because of Jessie?”

“Why would it be because of her?” You ask, knowing damn well that your behavior was exactly her fault.

“I don’t know, just when she gets brought up, you seem to get annoyed.”

“No I don’t.” Your answer is quick, you get defensive. Unfortunately your defensive behavior likely tells Janine that it is in fact Jessie who’s on your nerves.

“Oh, I know what it is!” She slaps her hand over to your thigh, giving you a small smack.

“What?”

“You’re worried I’m going to start doing things with Jessie instead of you! You’re jealous!” Her tone is playful, she’s teasing you.

“I’m not jealous.” You cross your arms in the passenger seat, pouring like a toddler.

“Good, but if you were, you have no reason to be, yes she’s my friend, but so are you, our coffee dates will still go on, we’ll still hang out, you have nothing to worry about.”

“I wasn’t worried.” You say as Janine pulls up in front of your building. You climb out of the car, thanking her for the ride.

“You’re welcome, I'll always love you, she’ll never come between us!” She yells out the window making a slightly embarrassing scene, bypassers not knowing the joke she’s making. You turn back, shaking your head at her as you laugh.

“Love ya Janine, bye.” You wave at her and enter your building.

You get inside and go about the rest of your day, laundry, cleaning, a rather mundane but somewhat relaxing evening.

It’s when you’re crawling into bed that you receive two messages from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hi, this is Jessie, Janine gave me your number. She said you lived in the area.

Unknown: Sorry, Jessie Fleming, I should’ve clarified. Don’t feel obligated to text me, just Janine insisted I reach out.

You ignore the messages, you have a quick thought of blocking her number, but you know that’s not realistic. You’d have to see her in a few days and be her teammate you can’t block her phone. At least the girl gave you the permission to ignore her.

So that’s what you did. You closed your phone, putting it on silent and snuggled into bed, putting on whatever was showing on National Geographic at this hour and falling asleep shortly after.

[didhewinkback]

thirty, flirty and thriving

a something old blurb for the birthday boy. 2 and a half months late but who's counting

word count: essentially 3k, warnings: none

---

He can feel tears prick his eyes the second they all start in on the song. All of his favorite people in one place, just for him, gathered around the cake you’re holding up. Suppose he’s someone who cries at birthdays now. 

He’s just…bloody overwhelmed. Perhaps it’s all the tequila flowing through his veins but it feels like more than that. Thinking about how you somehow managed to surprise him with all these people to celebrate his birthday, that his friends - some of whom he hasn’t spoken to in ages, ranging from the lads from school to the friends he made in LA when he was 22 - all made the trek to London to be with him tonight. How he’s often the youngest in his group of friends and how it feels like just yesterday that meant being 19 in a group of 30 year olds and now it's being 30 in a group of friends on the other side of 40. 

He’s fucking thirty. 

It should send him into a spiral about where the time has gone and how it went by so bloody quick but right now, he’s just grateful for where it’s landed him. Right here. Surrounded by his favorite people on the planet, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of the woman he’s going to marry, his best friend in the entire world. Ten years ago, he was getting monstrously drunk at a club with Grimmy and their mates, feeling both on top of the world and more alone than ever in ways only an incredibly famous 20 year old can. But here and now, he feels settled. He feels good. Like he’s lived a thousand lifetimes but also like he’s just getting started. 

“....happppy birthday to yOouUuUou” everyone sings, all eyes on him as they wait for him to blow out the candles. He places his palm to his chest, trying to lock eyes with as many people as humanly possible, trying to say thank you with a look, doesn’t want to do a speech, not now. He just loves these people, he loves this life, he loves his birthday and –

He feels an elbow in his side and looks over at you, your face aglow from the absurd amount of candles you’ve squeezed onto the cake - he’s 30, not 87, thanks - your eyebrows raised in expectation. 

“Cake’s fucking heavy, mate” you say and he throws his head back in laughter, smacking a kiss to your head before looking back out at the party. 

“Sorry - know the wax ‘s getting everywhere, but just wanted to say -” he says, taking a deep breath, vision blurring a bit. “‘M so lucky and feel so grateful to you all for being here. Thank you’s never going to be enough. But you’ve all made me into the man I am today ‘nd I wouldn’t be me without you. So thank you and I love you, I love you, I love you.”

And with that, he takes a deep breath, squeezing you close and making a wish, wishing for every birthday to feel just like this, for the ability to make everyone in this room feel like they’re making him feel now as he blows all the candles out in one swoop. The party erupts in cheers and whoops and he barely has time to press another kiss to your cheek before he’s pulled back into the fray, bombarded with an endless stream of hugs, kisses, people rubbing his head and pressing glasses of tequila into his hand. He just feels like he could burst, is the thing. A room full of people who know him and love him and don’t want or need anything from him, just want to celebrate him for who he is. They’ve turned the music back on and he sways his hips and stomps his feet as he knocks back another glass, letting the beats wash over him as he gets lost in the crowd of friends.

It’s later, he’s tucked in a booth with the lads as he takes in the room around him, though it’s spinning a bit more than it was before. Tom’s got his arm around him and is telling the 18th embarrassing anecdote of the night, trying in vain to bury the fact that just moments ago he got a bit teary when he spoke about the first time they met. And that’s when he sees you across the way, laughing about something with Johnny. His eyes trace the line of your neck as you tilt your head back, the curve of your jaw, and then, as if you can sense him, your eyes lock with his. 

It never gets old, this. It feels like electric currents are buzzing through his system when you smile at him, that just for him smile,  as he tilts his head towards the doors leading out back, once, twice, three times, topping it off with a dramatic roll of his neck until you’re smirking, already making your way up to stand. He taps Tom on the thigh before sliding out of the booth and making his way over to where you’re waiting by the doors, instantly wrapping his arm around your waist and burying his face into your hair, breathing you in as the two of you duck outside. 

It’s cold, but the heaters and fire pits around the patio help and he wraps himself around your back, matching you step for step as you head over to the corner railings, away from any prying eyes. You lean against the railing, looking up at the night sky, what you can make of it from the city lights. He wraps his arms tighter around you, nuzzling his face into your neck. 

“Y’ cold?” he asks and you’re shaking your head but he feels you shiver against him and that’s all the answer he needs, already pulling his suit jacket off despite your protests, and holding it out for you to put it on. “C’mon, ‘s my birthday wish.”

You shake your head and snort, sliding your arms into the jacket and turning around, wrapping your arms around his waist as you smile up at him. He shuffles you a bit closer to the heater, pressing a kiss to your cheek, brushing his knuckle along your jaw.

“Good birthday?” you ask softly and he’s already nodding, can’t believe you’re even asking.

“The best,” he says, “Can’t believe you did all this.”

“You really had no idea?”

“Surprised the shit out of me.” he says. “Y’ always get stressed when we’re running late for dinner so that’s the only reason I thought y’ were being jumpy.”

“Oiii–” you say, slapping him lightly as you laugh. “Not my fault you took ages to get ready. Man’s early for everything but the second you tell him what time to meet at a restaurant, he moves in bloody slo mo.”

“Heeey.” he whines, but there’s no heat behind it, pulling you closer and laughing when you do.

He can hear the party raging on from out here and he still just can’t wrap his mind around it. That he’s 30. That he’s gotten to live the life he has over the last ten years and he has all those people in there to thank. He’s bowled over, the love in that room radiating through his every pore. Not sure he ever knew he could be this loved. 

He can feel your eyes on him and knows you’re letting him gather his thoughts, content to just stand there and patiently wait until he’s ready. Letting him do what he needs to do. Never pushing, or prying. Just knowing him. And loving him. And there’s just something about that, isn’t there?

“‘M just like…” he starts to say, stopping himself when he feels emotion clog his throat. “I cried 10 times already. Bloody Cal is here.”

“Easiest party planning of my life,” you say back softly, tightening your arms around him. “Everyone said yes immediately, they were so excited to celebrate you. Everyone in there really, really loves you.” 

His breath gets caught in his throat at that, blinking back the tears that seem to permanently reside in his eyes tonight. He rests his hand along the side of your face, dragging his thumb along your jaw. Not sure what he did to get nights like this, to get you looking at him like that. He’s so, so lucky.

“I really, really love you.” you say softly and he just - he can’t explain the noise that escapes him as he crashes his lips against yours, tightening his grip on your jaw as he kisses you the way he’s been thinking about all night. You sigh against his lips as he pulls you impossibly closer to him, lips not daring to leave yours for a second, kissing you over and over again. 

He could stand here forever, kissing you like this, but he has to breathe, eventually. He pulls back slowly, kissing along your jaw, cheek, temple before burying his head into your neck. You slide your arms up his back, hugging him around the neck and pulling him close, your hand coming up to rest at the nape of his neck, scratching at the short hairs there. You just stand there for a minute, wrapped up in each other and this may just be his favorite part of the night. There’s something about knowing he’ll always have this. Your arms to fall into. And that’s the greatest birthday present a lad could ask for.

“Thank you so much for all this,” he mumbles into your ear. “Best birthday ever. Proper birthday.”

His heart skips a beat when he hears your delighted laugh, pulling back to get a glimpse of your face, the way your eyes are glowing as they stare back at him.

“I can’t believe you remember that.” you say with a laugh. “You were pissed and burning your mouth on a cheese toastie almost a decade ago when you said that.”

“Mmm, a cheese toastie,” he says, giggling at your eye roll. “Course I remember it. Think it every year. ‘S not a proper birthday unless you’re there. I love you so, so much.”

“Thanks for being born,” you say softly, leaning into his touch. “Greatest thing to ever happen to me. You.”

“Baby - ” he breathes out, but can feel emotion clogging his throat again, trying in vain to blink away the tears your words made spring to his eyes. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone, hand shaking not just from the cold. A lifetime of knowing you and you still make him weak at the knees. 

“Y’ make every day feel like my birthday, y’ know that?” he says softly, feeling like he’s found the right words for the first time tonight. “This party ‘nd this night is incredible. But nothing - nothing - compares to getting to go home with you every night. Greatest gift I ever got.”

He can see the words hit you, the deep breath you take as your eyes rake over his features, smile twitching at your lips as you look at him with such love in your eyes he feels his heart skip a beat. You’re looking at him like you always look at him, really, really seeing him with nothing but utter love in your eyes. God. There aren’t words for that, are there? 

You pull him in, kissing him hard, like you’re trying to pour every ounce of love from your mouth to his and he’s more than happy to drink it up. Drink you up. Drink you in. His favorite taste, his favorite mouth, his favorite person on his favorite day.

His hands squeeze you tighter, living for the way you lean into his touch as it rakes down your back, settling on your bum. He could lose himself in this, in you. But you both seem to become aware of your environment at the same time, deep kisses slowing into gentle pecks before you drag your lips up his jaw, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as you pull him close, hugging him tightly. His arms wrap around your waist as he sinks into your hold. He nuzzles his head into your neck, breathing you in, as he slowly sways the two of you, the party mere background noise to the sounds of your steady breathing, the feel of your hands carding through his short hair. 

It’s a while before he moves, slowly, begrudgingly, pressing a kiss to your neck and tightening his arms around you before mumbling, “I’ve got a crazy idea,” into your skin. 

He lifts his head to look at your face, can see your eyes twinkling, already bracing yourself for what he’s about to say, already in on the joke. It’s a bit he’s been doing every few weeks at this point, ever since you set the date. 

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” you ask, unable to stop the smile growing on your face as you slide your arms down his shoulders, resting your hands on his biceps. 

“Was thinking - since y’ did such a good job planning this party… what do y’ say we throw another one? Like, end of June maybe? Right after your birthday?” he says, pretending to actually mull over those dates, trying to remain deadly serious while your lips twitch into a smile.

“Hmm. I think I could be down for that.” 

“Yeah? Same guest list, bit more of your friends. Some family maybe. Could do it in Italy, near the house.” he says, trying to keep up the bit but the reality of what he’s saying is catching up to him, the familiar tears making an appearance again as he chokes out his next words. “Y’ could wear white.”

“And you could wear a suit.” you say softly, eyes never wavering from his. “Maybe get a new ring.”

“Yeah. You’d like that?” he asks, bringing his hand up to your face when you nod. “You wanna marry me, baby?”

“I really, really do.” you say, the look in your eyes making his heart beat out of his chest.

“Four months,” he says quietly, almost in disbelief of his luck, his life. “You’re gonna be my wife in four months.” 

He can’t tell who moves in first after that, both of you clutching on for dear life as you just about snog the living daylights out of each other. He’s never wanted to ditch a party more in his life. Just wants you, your bedroom, and several hours to even begin to express all he’s feeling right now, all he wants. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you. 

You softly moan into his mouth and he just about loses his mind, thinking about he’ll have a lifetime of getting that sound out of you, just for him. He pulls you impossibly closer as he drags his tongue over yours, keeping your jaw in a tight grip. He could die here, actually. He’d die a happy man, being slowly taken apart by your mouth. 

“Oiii!!!” Johnny’s voice through the open door has the two of you springing apart in shock, though he doesn’t let you get far, burying his head in your neck as he moves his hand off your jaw to flip Johnny off. 

“If you’re both done rubbing against each other out here –”

“Oh grow up, Johnny!” you shout at the same time Harry lets out a “You wish!” that has you smacking him against the head as he laughs.

“The Holmes Chapel lot did promise Hometown Hero over there a birthday shot.” he slurs and Harry begrudgingly pulls away from you to twist towards the doors, pulling your back into his chest as you both face Johnny, his hands resting on your shoulders. “And we’ve been waiting bloody ages –”

“So bloody dramatic,” you huff and Harry laughs, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. 

“We’ll be right in,” he says watching as Johnny rolls his eyes, holding up a hand to indicate “you’ve got one minute”, as he turns back inside and closes the door behind him. 

“Suppose we better go in,” you say, turning to look at him over your shoulder and he all but swells with pride at the look of you, the swollen lips and slightly messy hair. He tilts your chin a bit more towards him and kisses you once more, squeezing your shoulder before taking a step back. You shrug out of his jacket despite his groan, handing it back to him as you bring your hands up to attempt to smooth down your hair.

“Let’s go, old man.” you say and he squawks, sliding the jacket back on before giving you a cheeky smack on your bum, which you try in vain to dodge before reaching for his hand, interlacing your fingers and heading back into the fray. 

The night spirals from there in the best possible way and while he may not remember every conversation he had, every song he danced to, every shot he took, he’ll always remember the way that room made him feel, the love radiating towards him, overwhelming him, inspiring him, fortifying him. He’ll always remember the feeling of your hand in his, the way your body felt against his own, and later, the taste of you on his tongue. Feeling like he could do anything with you by his side, your love making him feel like the greatest version of himself. Like the best is still yet to come, if that's even possible. 

Proper birthday.

---

a/n: the way i literally had 3/4 of this written on february 1st and then could not get myself to finish it. but here we areeeee baby. hope people are still interested. i really like it and couldnt let it go. let me know what u think love u mean it

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - One

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

This is my first original fic after The Pilot and his Girl and it will be a very different read (just in case you're totally traumatised by The Pilot...😬)

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve short stories, each set in the same bakery. The plan is to post one chapter every Sunday night so hold me to that schedule when my procrastination kicks in!

Warnings won't be very serious, just lots of fluff, lots of food, some mention of drugs because you know some of these Pedro boys are just like that.

Series Master List

@harriedandharassed tagging you in this because you said you wanted to read anything new ❤❤❤

The drawback of being a baker is that your working day starts when others are still tucked in bed with hours left to sleep. Or just coming home from a party. But you don’t mind all that much, there’s a certain tranquil peace to being awake and working in the bakery while the rest of the world sleeps. 

In the warmer months you prop open the back door so that you can hear the birds starting to sing as the sky slowly grows lighter outside, today is just one of those mornings. 

The early morning radio show is on low in the background as you prepare the day. Yesterday's loaves have proofed overnight in the cold storage and are ready for the oven, the pie doughs taken out and softening while you prepare the cookie doughs. 

People don’t often knock on the bakery's back door before you open for the day, but it happens, so when you suddenly hear someone shuffle and knock, you’re not surprised. Wiping your hands on your apron you turn the corner into the small back room. A man is leaning on the door frame, but not the sexy, romance novel leaning. No, this man is leaning in a ‘lean-or-fall-over’ kinda way. His eyes are covered by large black sunglasses that he pulls down as you spot him, a tired but cheeky smirk on his face. 

“Hey, baker girl,” he grins, his voice gravelly like he’s chain smoked all night, “got any sna- oh whoops!” he giggles madly as he loses his balance and tumbles sideways, catching the other door frame before he grabs onto your arms and almost manages to stand up straight. 

“You might need coffee, not snacks,” you say, holding onto him to stop him from falling face forward into your apron.  

“I’m fine,” he grins, pushing himself upright again but still holding on to the door frame, “I just came from this party, were you there?,” he asks, giving you another over the glasses look, this time clearly checking you out as his eyes drag up and down your form, lingering on your pink crocs. 

“Actually, I would’ve remembered if you were there, love the crocs,” he chuckles. 

“What’s wrong with my crocs?” you ask, slightly offended, “They’re great for people like me, you know, people who actually work on Thursdays.” 

“No, no, I mean it, I love your crocs!” the man says, wide eyed and shoving his glasses up in his wild curls, “I have like ten crocs, one pair is pink too.” 

He furrows his eyebrows, giving you a confused look, “Wait, it’s Thursday?” 

“Yeah, five am, Thursday morning,” you say, wondering how to get rid of this disheveled man so that you can get back to the cookie dough. 

“Fuck, oh fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck….” the man groans, bending double and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, “I’m so fucked…I thought it was Wednesday.” 

He stands up again and you can’t help but feel sorry for him, he looks devastated. 

“I was meant to fly out to San Antonio yesterday and take my nice to Six Flags for her birthday, and I fucking missed it!” 

He slumps against the door frame and thumps the back of his head against it repeatedly, moaning, “I’m such a fuck up, I’m such a fuck up.” 

“Hey, take it easy, I’m sure it’ll be fine, just apologize and take her another day,” you say, putting your hand on the man’s arm to stop him from giving himself a concussion in your bakery, “I’m sure she’ll understand.” 

“You think?” he says, “I’m not the best at remembering birthdays, I may have missed a few in the past.” 

“Well, then she’ll be mad at you, but all you can do is apologize right? And try to make it up to her as best you can.” 

“Yeah…yeah…maybe you’re right, thanks baker girl.” He gives you a lopsided smile and you notice the smudges of dark eyeliner around his eyes, “How about those snacks? I’m fucking starving.” 

You can’t help but laugh, the man’s a mess but somehow adorable at the same time with his wild hair and stained t-shirt. 

“Sure, I’ll get you something, what do you like?”

“Do you have sausage rolls?” he asks, following you into the kitchen, “I fucking love sausage rolls.”

“What, like those things they made on the Great British Bake Off?” you reply, opening your walk in fridge to survey the snack options. 

“Yeah, I did this movie once, in England, and there was a bakery next to my apartment and whenever I got back from a party, early morning, I’d knock on their back door and they’d sell me these fat sausage rolls, fresh from the oven, fucking amazing.” 

“Sorry, no sausage rolls in this bakery,” you say, “but my cookies will be done soon, if you can wait.” 

You turn back to the man and realize he’s wandering around the kitchen, sticking his nose in your bowls, sniffing loudly. 

“Hey, don’t stick your finger in that,” you say, “Health and Safety are going to have my license if they catch you.”

“Sorry, I’ve just got the munchies, I’ve been high for like, two days,” he says, waving his arms around, “this place is torture for a high pers-OH! Do you know what I love?”

“No,” you sigh, exasperated, “I don’t know what you love.”  

He completely misses your tone as he spins in a circle around the kitchen and you realize that he’s wearing what looks like very expensive pajama pants and no shoes, just socks.

“I love those…what do you call them, like…millionaire’s something?” 

“Millionaire's shortbread?” you ask and he spins around to you with a big grin. 

“Yes! Those! With like the chocolate and the peanut butter and they’re like the best Reese’s ever, only even more fucking amazing. Can you make those?”  “I don’t know, maybe,” you begin and the man actually falls to his knees, shuffling over the floor to you. 

“Please, I’ll do anything, I’m dying here, beautiful baker girl, make me happy!”

“Are you asking me to bake for you or proposing?” you laugh, this man is too ridiculous as he grins up at you. 

“If you make them for me, I won’t marry you, but there are many other things I can do,” he says, pulling down his dark sunglasses from his head and winking at you from over the edge, his cheeky grin making it impossible to scowl at him. 

“Fine, I’ll make them for you, just get up from my floor, please,” you say, reaching for his hand. He takes yours with a bright smile, kissing the back of it, before he stumbles to his feet and follows you over to your big workbench.

“I’m Dieter, by the way. Can I sit here?” he asks, pointing to the stool that stands next to the bench. 

“Nice to meet you Dieter,” you say, “sure, go ahead, it’s got wheels on it though so be careful.” 

“Awesome,” Dieter says and sits down, immediately speeding across the floor with a kick of his socked feet. He stops himself from crashing into the fridge door by grabbing on to the handle before he shoots off again, rolling all the way over to the open back door. 

“Don’t fall out through the door please,” you call after him and you hear him giggle, a second later he comes spinning into the kitchen again. 

“This thing is awesome, I need to buy one for my house.” 

“Happy you’re enjoying yourself,” you laugh and walk to where yesterday’s bakes are stacked on trays. You’d made a layer of shortbread yesterday, you were planning on making lemon bars but Millionaire’s shortbread will work too. As you bring it over to your work station Dieter rolls past you and stops by the bench.  “Can I help?” he asks, looking up at you, his sunglasses back in his messy hair. He’s kinda cute when you think about it, gorgeous brown eyes, and the smile he’s giving you is open and curious with an adorable dimple. 

“Yeah, sure, you can be in charge of peanuts,” you say, walking over to the dry storage, “They need to be bashed into chunks with a rolling pin, something tells me that’s something you can probably handle.” 

“That sounds fun, please, direct me,” he says, kicking himself over to the storage cupboard on the stool. 

“Oops, sorry,” he giggles, grabbing hold of your hips to stop himself from crashing into the storage door, “I kicked too hard that time.” 

“Go easy there, Dieter,” you laugh as he untangles himself from the stool and stands up. You get on your tiptoes to grab the peanuts and suddenly realize he’s still holding on to your hips, standing close behind you. You swear you feel his nose brush the side of your head, a quick inhale from him, and then he steps back, letting go. 

“Peanuts?” he says, leaning past you and reaching up to grab the bag sitting just out of your reach. His arm brushes over yours and he’s suddenly very close again, his citrusy after shave, mingling with the heady sweet smoke of weed, fills your senses. 

“Uhh…y-yeah,” you stutter, “thanks. And the dark chocolate if you can reach it.” 

“Sure, this one?” he asks, grabbing the bag of Valrhona from the shelf. This time his chest is pressed against your back, you really should move out of his way, but he’s right behind you, almost pinning you in place, as he has to stretch to his full length to reach. And you find that you don’t mind at all, he’s warm and solid behind you, and this is more action than you’ve had in months. 

“That’s the one, thanks,” you say, trying to keep your voice neutral. 

Dieter brings it down to your level and you take it from him, expecting him to step back and give you room to go back to the work bench. But instead he stays right behind you, and this time you really do feel him bend down and brush his nose over your cheek, down to where your neck meets your shoulder. 

“You smell delicious, like a cookie,” he mumbles and your heart literally skips a beat. 

“Th-thanks,” you splutter and when Dieter steps back, letting you move, you avoid his eyes, feeling your cheeks burn. 

“S-so the…umm…rolling pin is on that shelf there,” you say, pointing down to your right, “and there’s a measuring cup too, just…umm…just get a cup of peanuts, and put them in a plastic bag and bash away. Just wash your hands first.” 

“Ok, I can do that,” he says with a grin and he walks behind you to the sink in the corner while you measure out the peanut butter into a sauce pan. 

Dieter gets to work on the peanuts with great enthusiasm until you tell him they’re broken up enough. 

“Just leave them there, you can come here and stir the peanut butter while I get the caramel ready,” you instruct him and he ambles over in just his socks. 

“What happened to your shoes? If you don’t mind me asking,” you point at his stripey, multicolored socks. 

“I’m not sure,” Dieter glances down at his feet, “I had shoes when I left home, I’m sure of it, but after that it gets a bit hazy.” 

“You’ve really been partying since Tuesday?” you ask and he nods. 

“Yeah, it was a good party so we just kinda kept going,” he grins, “there was a huge pool and we all went in. Actually, maybe that’s where I lost my shoes?” 

“Maybe, you could go back and look for them?” 

“And miss out on baking with a pretty baker girl? Never!” he chuckles and you’re not totally sure he’s being serious or not, but the grin he gives you makes you hope he is. 

“I think this is melted,” he says, draggin the spoon through the silky smooth peanut butter, showing you the bowl. 

“Yeah, that looks done. Just pass me that tray of shortbread and I’ll pour the caramel on top.” 

“Can I lick the bowl?” he asks, looking over your shoulder as you let the thick golden liquid pool on top of the shortbread. 

“I’m pretty good at scraping, there’s usually nothing left to lick,” you say, dragging the spatula around the edge. 

“Can’t you be a bit sloppy, just for me?” Dieter grins, standing entirely too close, “It smells so good, I wanna taste it.” 

This time he’s definitely flirting, the salacious smile on his face while he winks at you, makes you both roll your eyes and squash down butterflies on the inside. 

“Fine, I’ll leave some for you,” you smile, looking back at the shortbread again and scraping out caramel, leaving the last of it on the spatula. Putting the bowl to the side, you hold out the spatula for him. But instead of taking it, he grabs hold of your hand, and licks the caramel off the spatula with a long swipe of his tongue. His eyes don’t leave yours and the whole thing is so over the top you burst out laughing. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, tone it down maybe?” you snort, as he abruptly stops licking, letting go of your hand. 

“What?” he blushes, “I saw it in this movie, it looked sexy.” 

“Yeah, in a porno maybe!” you say, handing him the spatula, and only the spatula.

He takes it with a sheepish look, “Sorry, that usually works.” 

“Not in this bakery, I have to work with that spatula when you’re gone, I can’t have it being used as a porno prop, Dieter.” You grab a new spatula from the holder on the counter and start smoothing out the caramel. 

“You do smell good though,” Dieter says, still looking sheepish, “that wasn’t just a line.” 

“Thanks,” you shoot him a quick smile, working over the caramel, “you smell good too, underneath all that weed funk.” 

At this he grabs the front of his t-shirt and sniffs it, wrinkling his nose, “Yeah, it’s kinda obvious, huh.” 

“Can’t believe you partied for forty-eight hours, I’d be dead on my feet,” you say, mixing the peanut butter into the caramel layer, sprinkling in some of the crushed peanuts, “Do you want coffee or something while we wait for this to set?” 

“Fuck yes, coffee sounds amazing!” Dieter exclaims, dropping the spatula from his mouth, “And this stuff is amazing too, I’d eat a bowl of just this.” 

“You’d die of a sugar rush if you did,” you laugh, sliding the tray into the large fridge and setting a timer on your phone, “C’mon, the coffee machine is out front.” 

One of the advantages of being the sole owner of the bakery was that you got to decide what to skimp on, and what to splurge on. And the espresso machine was something you’d really splurged on. For a shop that mainly sold take out baked goods, it was way over the top, but it meant you always had great coffee on hand for your early mornings. The machine was already up and running, humming quietly as you started preparing two shots. 

“How do you take it, Dieter?” you ask and he winks at you.  “Anyway you wanna give it to me, baker girl,” he grins and when you sigh loudly, he laughs and holds up his hands in defense. “C’mon! I had to! You set it up perfectly!” 

“How do you take your coffee?” you emphasis and glare at him, but your smile is breaking through and he gives you a playful poke as he comes up and stands next to the machine. 

“Extra everything, cream, sugar, any of those coffee syrups if you have ‘em.” 

“Why am I not surprised?” you smirk, “A guy who loves Millionaire’s Shortbread, of course he wants extra everything. I bet you’re lining up outside your local Starbucks the morning they start selling Pumpkin Spice.” 

“I would never drink Starbucks!” he protests, “Fucking vile coffee and the worst of corporate America. But you can’t beat a good pumpkin spice if you’ve got quality coffee.” 

“I’ve only got great coffee here, but no syrup, you want a latte? Double shot espresso?” 

“Please,” he says, leaning against the counter next to the espresso machine as he looks over the front of your little shop, crossing his arms. You can’t help the glance up at his arms, the t-shirt hanging on for dear life as it clings to his biceps and broad shoulders. The many rings on his fingers look tiny on his large hands as he grips the outside of his arms, and you’re temporarily distracted by them, and his close proximity. 

The hiss of the machine pulls you back to reality, coffee sputtering out of the spouts into the cup. You glance back up at Dieter and find him watching you with a crooked smile, a dimple in his cheek. 

“What?” you say, looking back at the machine and begin to steam the milk. 

“You really are beautiful,” he says, almost matter of factly, “especially when you zone out.” 

“It’s early, and I’ve been up since two am, but thanks, I guess,” you reply, handing him the latte and pointing to the sugar bowl on the counter next to the till. 

“I wasn’t trying to make a move or anything,” he says, sounding slightly hurt, “I just wanted to tell you I think you’re gorgeous.” 

“No, I’m sorry,” you say, immediately regretting your tone, “I’m just not used to compliments I guess, I didn’t mean to sound so rude. I should’ve just said thanks,” you look over at him and give him a smile, “Thanks Dieter.” 

“You’re welcome,” he replies, smiling back. 

You knock out the used coffee grounds and fill it up again to make your own coffee. Dieter reaches over and grabs four sugar cubes and drops them in the latte, stirring while he watches you work. He’s watching you closely again and it makes your cheeks heat up. He’s got a strange energy of childish mayhem and intense magnetism, chaos that’s either going to make you laugh until your sides hurt or fuck you until you can’t walk straight for a week. And you’re not sure which one you want. 

Your coffee done, you add a splash of milk and lean against the counter opposite Dieter, taking a careful sip. He’s wrapped both his large hands around the thick glass and is delicately licking the foam, drawing a pattern in it with his tongue. You watch him for a few seconds until he notices you and gives you a sheepish grin. 

“What?” he asks, copying your tone from earlier. 

“You really think I’m pretty?” you ask, the question slipping out before you have a chance to stop it, immediately regretting your filterless mouth. 

But he gives you a disarming smile, “Gorgeous. Gorgeous baker girl that smells like cookies and caramel and chocolate.” 

“You’re just high,” you can’t help but scoff at him, but he just shakes his head. 

“No, not at all.” 

He doesn’t say anything else, just looks at you, the silence stretching between you until you think something will have to snap and it’s probably going to be you. 

The phone saves you, the timer going off just as you don’t think you can stand another second of his chocolate brown eyes looking at you like you’re the snack he’s been asking for. 

“Thecaramelisset,” you rush out, breaking eye contact and hurrying back into the kitchen as if another second in the fridge would ruin the whole thing. Dieter comes in behind you at a slower pace, still drinking his coffee. 

You pull out the tray and set it down on the workbench before turning on the burner under a saucepan of water, setting up a water bath. 

“I’m just gonna melt this chocolate, and then I’ll spread it on top, it’ll set pretty quickly. And then it’s done.” You work quickly, too flustered to look at him and he hoovers just to your side, watching your movements. 

The chocolate melts fast, you only need a thin layer, and then you pour it over the caramel. You scrape the bowl clean but leave a generous amount of chocolate on the spatula, giving it to Dieter. 

“Don’t burn your mouth, it’s still warm”, you say when he takes it. He doesn’t grab your hand this time, but his fingertips brushes over yours as he nods, and it sends a sharp little jolt through you. 

You turn back to the almost finished shortbread but can’t help glancing over at him. His pink tongue comes out and licks the chocolate, this time it’s not over the top, nothing provocative about it, he’s not even looking at you. But you swear you can feel every stroke of his tongue on your own skin, burning hot and wet.

You swallow and tear your eyes away, blindly reaching for the crushed peanuts, taking a handful and scattering it across the chocolate. The Millionaire’s Shortbread is done and you slide the tray back into the fridge, it only needs a few minutes. Dieter remains by the counter, finishing off the chocolate on the spatula as you start to clean up the kitchen and bring out the cookie dough that still needs to be taken care of. You see Dieters eyes widen as he sees the first scoop of dough land on the baking tray. 

“Is that chocolate chip,” he almost whispers reverently, spatula forgotten, as he slowly comes over to stare down into the bowl. 

“You want to try it? It’s double chocolate chip with browned butter.” 

He makes a gurgling noise in the back of his throat, tilting his head back before he looks at you and nods, “Please, it smells so good.” 

You grab a tasting spoon, giving him a generous scoop and watch with a smile as he puts it in his mouth. His eyes close of their own volition as he moans, far too enticingly, around the spoon. 

“Oh my god…” he sighs, slowly chewing the dough, “This is like heaven, better than sex, better than fucking coke.” 

“Knock yourself out,” you chuckle, “it’s not healthy but it’s sure as hell better for you than coke.” 

“And sex?” he asks with a wink, still rolling the dough around his mouth. 

“They’re probably on par, but this is tastier than cum.” 

Dieter nearly chokes, coughing loudly as you giggle. Between repeated attempts at clearing his throat he points his finger at you accusingly, trying to grin between his coughing.

“You’re…” he coughs again, “You’re a dirty baker girl!” he finally manages, grinning widely as you go back to scooping dough, still giggling. 

“I can’t believe I said that, but you did serve it up perfectly.” 

“I did, but I never thought your mind was that filthy, I’m appalled” he laughs, placing a hand on his chest in a mock gesture of shock. “Better than cum huh? You have a lot of experience in that department?” 

Now he’s winking again, poking to get more details out of you. So instead you take another tasting spoon, scoop up more dough and put it straight into his mouth to shut him up. It works, he grins around the spoon and smacks his lips at the taste. 

“So fucking good, definitely better than cum,” he smirks, earning an eye roll from you. “Do you wanna taste it?” 

“I’m good, I’ve already tasted the dough many times,” you reply, careful to specify that you’re talking about dough. 

“Maybe not like this though,” Dieter says, suddenly bending down and pressing his lips against yours. It almost makes you jump, his soft lips against yours, his aftershave, it all envelops you in an instance. He’s not touching you anywhere else, just your lips, and you can’t taste him, his mouth is still closed. Maybe you should push him off, the thought flits through your mind for a split second. But you want to taste him, taste the cookie dough you know is delicious, mingled with him, so you part your lips, your tongue coming out. 

Dieter lets a quiet groan slip out as he part his lips, letting you in, opening his mouth and tilting his head to come closer. You hear the spoon clatter to the floor as his hand comes up and cups your cheek, his big hand reaching behind your neck, another stifled groan from him. He tastes of sugar, coffee and chocolate, all flavors mingling into something enticing that pulls you closer.

There’s nothing delicate about this kiss now, you lick into his mouth, and he offers you all the space you want, holding you close and moaning softly as your tongues tangle.

“Touch my hair,” he mumbles, breathing into your mouth, “I want to feel your hands in my hair.” 

“They’re all sticky, Dieter,” you protest but you feel him shake his head, his lips brushing over yours. 

“I don’t care, touch me, hold me, I want to smell like you when I leave,” his tongue slips between your lips, and you run your hands through his hair. You can feel it sticking, tugging at his wild locks but he just groans, his hands holding you tighter and, encouraged, you let your own hands run across his body, eliciting another loud groan from him. 

Tension is building between the two of you, he is growing hard against your belly, unmistakably turned on and doing nothing to hide it. You can feel heat radiating from your own core, so scorching he must feel it too through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. If this doesn’t stop soon he’ll have you bent over the workbench in a minute, and Health and Safety would definitely have something to say about that. 

With a groan and tremendous effort, you put your hands on his chest and push him away. His lips chase yours for a few seconds, eyes closed, a protest coming from him, before he looks down at you with a sigh. 

“You taste even better than you smell,” he says, not letting go of your cheek, his other hand still around your waist. 

“The cookie dough goes really well with the coffee,” you reply, your mouth quirking up in a smile and he matches it, a dopey look on his face. 

“Amazing,” he breathes, "you're amazing, baker girl.” 

His adoration makes you tremble, you feel the heat in your cheeks, and he sees it, leaning into your lips. He stops and looks at you for a beat, to ask for your permission, and when you don’t pull away he presses a soft kiss to your warm mouth, so different from the hasty, heated kiss you just shared. This one lasts only for a few seconds, gentle, before he pulls back, his hand slowly trailing along your check. 

“I should probably call for my ride,” he says softly, “it’ll take a while to get here.” 

“Ok,” you nod, “the shortbread should be done too.” 

“Ok,” he replies, but he doesn’t make a move to leave and you can’t seem to take your eyes off him. 

“I really should…” he sighs, tracing his fingertips over your cheek again, “call that ride.” 

“Go, do that, I’ll cut the shortbread, we can have some while we wait for your ride.” You lightly put your hand on his warm chest and push him away, smiling, but you really want to bunch your hand in the soft t-shirt and pull him closer. 

“Ok,” he says, louder this time, as if making up his mind. He shoves his hand in his pocket, miraculously finding his phone intact as you bring the tray out of the fridge. 

The whole thing has set into layers, so you take a sharp knife and start cutting rectangles, slipping them up and onto the tray that goes in your display case, some go into a take away box, two you put on a separate plate and then look around for Dieter, spotting his broad back out by the back door. Just as you come over to him he ends his call, turning around to you with a smile. 

“My ride will be here in about twenty minutes,” he says, following you to the doorstep and sitting down. You sink down next to him, maybe a little bit closer than necessary, but he’s wide and takes up almost the whole door frame. Your cookie dough is still waiting for you, you’ll be playing catch up with your baking for the rest of the morning, but it’ll be worth it. This chaotic, disheveled man has made your morning a lot more exciting than usual and you’re a little bit sad to see him go. 

“Here, what you came for,” you say, holding out the plate, and Dieter takes one of the Millionaire’s Shortbread. 

“I can’t believe you made these just for me,” he grins and bites into it. You watch his face, this is your favorite part of baking, watching people when they taste the finished thing. And Dieter doesn’t disappoint, he groans, loudly, grabbing onto your arm and leaning his forehead against your shoulder, his whole body reacting to the flavors in his mouth as he chews. 

“I Iive here now,” he moans, “I’m giving up my career, I’m going to live in your bakery and pay you to feed me for the rest of my life.” He lifts his head up and takes another big bite of the shortbread, groaning again as he looks at you, his eyebrows pulled together, big brown eyes pleading. “How is this so good?” he moans, his tongue coming out to catch an errant peanut crumb, “you’ve got to taste this.” 

He holds up the last bite of the shortbread to you, and you open your mouth, letting him place it between your lips. You feel his fingers brush over them as he pulls back, his thumb coming up to swipe over your bottom lip. 

“It’s really good, I’m pretty happy with this,” you say, trying to not chew with your mouth open as Dieter looks at you, his eyes on your lips.

“Do you want another one?” you ask, holding up the plate and Dieter nods fervently and groans again as he takes a bite. 

“I can’t decide, this or sex, which is better,” he chuckles, and you nod. You know the cake is good, but you can’t help but wonder if sex with Dieter might not be even better. 

You sit side by side in the early morning sunshine, eating the cakes. Dieter soon finishes his second one and cracks the lid on the take away box you’ve given him, sneaking a third one with a childish grin that makes you happy to see. 

“Seriously, I live here now, I’m moving in tomorrow,” he mumbles, moaning between bites, leaning on you, his head on your shoulder. 

“You do that Dieter, I might even let you lick the bowl once in a while,” you say, patting his messy hair. 

“Lick the bowl or lick your bowl, baker girl?” he giggles and you give him a light smack, shaking your head. 

“Enough with the porn jokes,” you scold him, no menace to your words, he can hear the smile in your voice and giggles again. 

“Can I put my head in your lap?” he asks, “Nothing weird, I promise, I’m just really tired suddenly.” 

“Ok, sure, but your ride should be here soon.” 

“Yeah, I just wanna relax my eyes for a while….” Dieter yawns and slips down the stairs to sit on the last step, hooking his arm around your hips and putting his head on your lap. The warm weight of him on your legs is actually comforting, his arm a steady hold behind you. Without thinking about it you start carding your fingers through his hair, adding to the sticky mess, making it stand on end, but he doesn’t seem to mind. It takes him minutes to fall asleep, a low rumbling snore coming from him. 

You keep stroking his head for a few more minutes before you carefully lift his head up and slip out from under him, letting his arm be his pillow. You need to go back to baking, your first customers will be arriving soon and you haven’t even put the cookies in the oven, you want them fresh and warm when the early morning commuters arrive. 

Back in the kitchen you quickly scoop the rest of the dough on the trays and get them in the oven and start stocking the display case out front with what’s already done. You’re just sliding the last croissants into the tray when the opening hour strikes and you flip the sign on the front door. You’ve been listening out back for a car to pull up but you haven’t heard anything and once the morning rush starts, you’re swamped and a couple of hours pass before you even realize. When it finally calms down you wipe down the counter and clean your hands before checking out by the back door. It’s still open, but Dieter is gone, as is the take away box, not a trace of your chaotic, magnetic early morning visitor. 

Hours later, as you’re about to close up for the day, a delivery van pulls up in front of the shop. A man in a uniform jumps out and comes rushing in with a box and an extravagant bouquet of flowers with a vase.  “Delivery for you, miss,” he says, handing you a device to sign your name on, and then the flowers and the box. 

“Thanks,” you say but the man is already halfway out the door. 

The flowers fill the small shop with their scent, and you place them on the counter, next to the till, stopping to stick your nose into the white lilac and breathing deeply before getting the shop closed up.

You flip the sign and take the box into the kitchen, the back door is still open to let the warm spring air in. Sinking down on the stairs where you sat with Dieter just this morning, you open the box. It contains another box and inside that, a note. But there’s also a mouth watering, rich, smell of pastry and meat coming from the box. Intrigued, you open the lid, only to find a thermal container inside, like a small version of the ones used to keep delivery pizza warm. Inside are six fat, delicious looking sausages rolls. Your stomach gives a hungry grumble and you immediately grab one, laughing as you remember Dieter’s first request this morning; sausage rolls, like the ones he bought in England after party nights. 

The sausage roll really is as delicious as it looks and you grab a second one before you pick up the note that came with them. 

It's a double folded piece of paper, so thick it almost looks like part of a canvas. On the inside a note is scribbled in a looped, flowing handwriting. 

“Next time I’m asking you on a date, baker girl /D” 

Part Two

If you want to make Dieter's Millionaire's Shortbread, here's the recipe I used.

[cinematicgf]

After Hours- 18+ dbf!joel

Summary: coming home from college and staying with your dad means that you get to see his attractive best friend, Joel, all the time, from nights in to neighborhood parties. but as the two of you start to see each other regularly when you’re home for college breaks, feelings start to get involved, all leading to one night in a hotel room.

Pairing: (pre-outbreak) dbf!joel miller x afab!reader

Warnings and notes: 18+, smutty smut, minors DNI, dad’s best friend Joel, age gap, fingering, pet names, phone sex, dirty talk, teasing, swearing, reader in uni, drinking, no use of y/n, a little hint of fluff and lots of smut

~ 3.9k

A/N: hey again<3 this was suppose to be a drabble but i got carried away whoops. I hope you guys enjoy this work of dbf!joel smut and as always, your feedback is always welcome so please like, comment and reblog!

ps. I wrote this over a bottle of wine before going to friends place to drink another bottle of wine so apologies if there’s any mistakes. enjoy<3

  ~

Oh, baby, where are you now when I need you most?

I'd give it all just to hold you close

~

The morning sunlight seeps through a crack in the curtain, illuminating the hotel room in a soft glow. Your eyes crack open at the breech of your slumber, as you take in the unfamiliar setting. Usually, in a situation of waking up to unknown territory your heart would skip to your throat and panic would set in, if it weren’t for the warm body and heavy breathing encased close behind you. One large, muscular arm keeping you in place draped over your waist and an all too familiar hint of yesterdays cologne and musk relaxes you into a blissed-out morning attitude. Behind you, of course, is Joel. Joel of contractor and fourth of July barbecue fame in your neighborhood. The man who you had been crushing on since you were a teenager, and now, with your transition into university and spending time apart from your hometown and the residents, coming back meant that you have changed.

You left a naive teenager with a passion for history and came back as a young adult, ready and willing for what life through at you. And no one had noticed this change more than Joel. Taking extra-long glances at you as your back was turned whilst you were studying in the living room, taking peaks at your ass as you bent over to grab yourself a beer from the fridge, oh so kindly provided by your father, and oh god almighty, who could forget the pet names, anything from ‘honey’ to ‘pretty girl’ which, admittedly, use to just be a friendly affirmation of care from the older man, but now sent an electric shock of arousal straight to your core.

There was one slight problem to both of your developing feelings was the Joel was your father’s best friend. Although you and your father were somewhat close, after your mother had decided to bail and your new slutty stepmother had been brought into the mix of your home life, your not-so-subtle feelings of despise toward the woman were apparent. Of course, you wanted your dad to be happy but CMON... did it have to be with Slutty Steph who flirted with quite literally every man who came within a 3-mile radius of the woman?

In your trips back from university to home over the past six months, your “friendship” with Joel had grown into the two of you flirting back and forth with hearty banter which always led to a filthy comment from either of you- (“What would my father think if I told him, you were just checking out my tits, old man” you shot at him with a smirk. “I would simply tell him his darling little girl was wearing these low-cut shirts only when she knew his best friend was coming over”, he retorted, his breath hot in you ear as he brought his hand up to grip your bare waist under your crop top.). Eventually the flirting turned to a sloppy make out sesh one night when your father had gone to bed early and left the two of you with a bottle and a half left of wine. After that night, every time you would come home from university, the two of you would secretly meet up, either to make out and explore each other’s bodies in the back of his truck, or to dip out of a neighborhood get together so he could have your up against a door, blocking anyone’s unwelcomed entry, as he held you with one huge hand under your thighs and another laced your waist, as he whispered the most filthy string of words known to mankind in your ear as you moaned softly as his cock twitched inside you and he fucked up into you at a brutal pace . Eventually, the hand on your waist would have to be brought up to your mouth to cover your moaning as he pushed deeper and deeper into you, the top of his large cock hitting your g-spot at just the right angle, this, accompanied by the leud sounds of slapping thighs and wet noises throwing you over the edge, with his hand still pressed to your mouth as you came, hard, party makeup and mascara running down your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut and shook in his arms as he fucked you through your high. It wouldn’t take long for his thrusting to get sloppy after you clench around him tight and he would cum deep inside you, holding you still as he stayed in your pussy, muttering praises of, “that’s my sweet girl, god almighty you did so well baby, squeezing me tight like that. Such a good girl for me, always”. This within itself almost made you come again, but soon enough, after he had gone limp and after a few more slow thrusts, the two of your would have to clean yourselves up and go back out to the familiar faces of your neighbors, pretending a man twice your ages and twice your size in height and muscle hadn’t just fucked you so hard against a bedroom door that your knees were now jello and the shirt you had changed into had a higher neckline to avoid suspicious glares at the many bitemarks and hickeys decorating your neck.

 Joel, being the most eligible bachelor in the town, or so your high school friends commented one night when you were out smoking in her car on a university break, always had looks from women, mostly his own age, who were so eager to settle down with the respectable, stable (and ever so filthy) man. Sometimes you thought these little neighborhood parties your dad (and Joel too) would insist you come to were just ways that he could find someone and settle down finally. I guess everyone hoped so, or they hoped that they would be the one he would choose. I mean, with his structured face and messy brown curls, his patchy yet groomed beard, muscular arms, giant hands and not to mention the ever-present bulge in his jeans, all the grown woman in the neighborhood would swoon when he entered. He entertained their boring conversations about work and sometimes ever their husbands, but hell, you would never admit to the jealousy it made you feel. Sometimes, after one too many and a boiling of envy in your veins, you would retreat into the house of whichever neighbor had the honors of hosting and lay on the couch so as not to see the women drooling over the guy you were fucking on a regular basis. The one who was so handsome when he got down on his knees between your legs after racing to your fathers house, knowing he was at work. He would kiss and thrust his fingers into your tight hole until you came around them, back arching and moaning so loud you were surprised you didn’t get a noise complaint. The one who, afterwards, would tangle his hands in your hair as he pulled you onto his lap, feeling his achingly hard cock swell against you as your lips collided, sloppy and lovingly, tasting yourself on his tongue. The one who would whisper how sweet you tasted and who always praised you with a “good girl” after taking his cock so deep it would leave you aching for days.

 When you were in the house, having the much needed lie down after your subtle (or so you thought) jealous outbreak, it wasn’t long before guess who wanders through the sliding door into the living room, which you’ve occupied. “Sweetheart…”, he drawls in a knowing tone, “Let’s get you to bed”. His voice is low as he leans against the door, one hand placed on his hip while the other rests on his thigh right next to where his jeans look awfully tight. Your jealousy is quickly forgotten in your drunken state, as you feel yourself get slightly wet from his muscular stance and understanding smirk. He noticed your absence and came looking; that’s gotta be something... right? “Why don’t you join me”, you coo, narrowing your eyes and moving your arm slightly to lean on your side, thus emphasizing your breasts in your lowcut shirt. He grins to himself, rubbing his bead as he adjusts his jeans around his crotch. “C’mon, then, bedtime for you”. He steps over. “Weeeeeeeee”, you exclaim as he picks you up bridal style, giggling the whole time. “Are you taking me for round two?”, you giggle, throwing your arms around his neck and looking at him doe eyed. “You”, he gives you a kiss on the forehead once you are both halfway up the stair, “need to sleep it over, sugar”. He puts you down in a room and gently kisses your forehead again, “G’night pretty girl”, he whispers. You smile up at him, drunk and looking with such fascination at the attractive older man. “You’re the pretty one”, you whisper, before he chokes back a laugh and kisses you softly on the lips. “Get some sleep, sweetheart, I’ll check on you tomorrow”. 

At first it had just seemed like simple fun. Two grown adults fucking around with each other when you came home from university every few weeks for a break. Despite being your dad’s best friend, Joel spent an ungodly amount of time with you, either when you were staying, and you two fucked in private, or when you were back at university, and you would receive those oh so delicious late night calls of him stroking himself, telling you he had been thinking about you and asking when you were coming home so he could taste how sweet you were again. You were glad your roommate had left earlier in the year, leaving the dorm to yourself, because your moans mixed with Joel’s filthy words of pleasure and praise as you rubbed your clit and eased two fingers inside of you while his hand gripped his cock had you both climaxing at the thought of each other and, to be frank, neither of you were very quiet about it. God, your fingers did nothing compared to having his cock inside you; hell, even his fingers.

“I miss you, doll, when are you back.”

“Joel… I was there last week”, you giggled, breathlessly after you came down from your hig.

“I know, I just miss you is all”, he smiled, rubbing his beard, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot actually, I just wanna make sure that uni is taking care of my sweet girl”.

 After a few hours and a knowing of morning sleep deprivation because of the call carrying into the early hour of the dawn, you both hung up. You felt different, you couldn’t stop smiling at the thought of them. That is when you knew that, maybe, you had fucked up a little. It wasn’t just a casual meet and fuck when you were in town anymore. You were both thinking about each other when you were alone and when together, the sparks would fly. But… you couldn’t be in love with your father’s best friend. It was out of the question. Shit… what if he found out? What the hell would he do? You started to overthink and the more you did, you were drawn back to his words, “I miss you” “MY sweet girl”. You decided that you needed to talk to him, fuck it. He would know what to do, and there were only really two options of what could happen. You could tell him your feelings and he could laugh at you and shut it down, maybe even coming to the realization that you were indeed his best friend’s daughter and perhaps this was a bad idea; (despite how fucking incredible you looked when you were straddling him, leaned back a little to take him deeper as you bounced on his cock, riding him so good. He would often come back to that image late at night when he gripped himself and jerked at a rapid pace, pretending he was inside your tight hole). The other option was too exciting to even think about, but you knew it wasn’t exactly ideal… or that he would feel the same. “Sure, he misses you. He misses fucking you, is all”, you speculate to yourself. He is a grown ass man, he has been fucking women since before you were born, what makes you think he is going to want you? A third-year uni student who, may I reiterate, has been his father’s best friend for the better part of roughly seven years. You sigh to yourself as you sit in bed, your textbooks discarded to the side as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to cry at the inevitable fate of your quick fling with Joel. You decided, fuck it, and sent Joel a text that you needed to talk to him.

And this all had led you here, lying in a hotel room in your university town with your dad’s best friend wedged behind you, naked and fast asleep. Despite your groggy state you think back to yesterday’s events. You had texted him in the morning, throwing your phone aside because of nerves but after the familiar ding a few minutes later, you took a peak and, low and behold, a message from Joel saying he would be there soon. Your nervy state only jumped at this, your uni town was two hours from home, and he was wiling to come today to talk. “Calm down” you told yourself, “It’s not going to go like that”. You laid back down, trying to ease your anxiety, before hopping in the shower to wash off all the unwanted nervousness and brace yourself for tonight. Late notice aside, he had been out front of your dorm by midafternoon, leaning against his truck, sunglasses and a t shirt stretching over the expanse of his chest, tight jeans (thank god for your sunglasses because lord forgive, your eyes immediate go there) and his arms folded. He grins upon seeing you, “There she is”, he chuckled pushing himself up from his truck and untucking his arms to greet you with a strong, warm hug. His cologne fills your senses, making you feel at home again, in his arms. He places a kiss to your forehead, opening the truck door for you as you both speed off away from the uni and through town. 

Despite the nerves still kicking in your system, you start to make conversation.

“So, why come all the way down here”, you start, looking at his side profile from the passenger seat and god, if he doesn’t look beautiful. His strong nose and trimmed beard making up the artwork that is his face.

“Because you wanted to see me, sugar”, he replies, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Yeah, about that, how long are you staying, because this may take a little bit”. You stare down at your hands, fidgeting slightly in your seat.

“I got a hotel room in town, we can talk all night, doll” he chuckles, glancing at you quickly with a grin before returning his gaze to the road.

God, you wish you didn’t have this weight on your shoulder, you wish you could just get this over with and be tucked up in bed to cry yourself to sleep once his definite answer, that being, of course, that you two should end it, is said and finalized.

Once the two of you arrive at this hotel room it is early evening. The sun is caressing the outskirts of the horizon, flaming the coast, as your heart is rapidly thrumming in your chest. Joel kicks off his shoes and drops heavily on the couch provided by the room and you sit rigid on the arm, not daring to meet his gaze and not being able to utter a word as the nerves, not most insistent, claw at your throat. Joel notices and pushing himself into a sitting position, his thighs push apart of his hand falling between his legs as he watches you, waiting, his brow slightly furrowed as if he knows what is about to happen. Only then do you decide to meet his gaze. Fuck it, lets just get it over with.

“I want to, um, I wanted to talk about us”, you start, meeting his gaze briefly before your eyes return to your palm as your other hand rubs it. “And about what you said on the phone the other night”.

Joel is still looking at you, his brow has furrowed out of slight confusion, or what was that concern… maybe?

“I have found”, you begin again, slowly, not daring to look at him, focusing on a spot on the floor where the carpet meets the linoleum of the kitchen. Perhaps if you just get it all off your chest first without waiting for a response, you’ll feel better. “That I enjoy your company. I mean. Besides the sneaking away and fucking and video calls”, you say slowly. “I enjoy spending time with you at the parties and I find myself getting excited when I get a response from you over text, it’s just… maybe I’m delusional Joel but, I think I’m starting to have feelings. And trust me, I know that wasn’t the deal going into all this, and I know that I’m just a fuck to you and it’s thrilling, having that danger to a relationship, such as sleeping with your best friend’s daughter, but I can’t help it”, you voice is wavering and slightly speeding up to get this all over with quicker. You can feel the sting of tears behind your eyes, but you continue, nevertheless. “So please, just tell me that you don’t want anything now and it can be over with. We can go to those shitty neighborhood parties and talk to each other as if nothing happened but please, Joel, if you don’t want this, tell me now.” A hint of a tear drips down your cheek as you finish your dramatic speech. Your heart is trying to break out of your chest and your hands shake slightly at his awaited response. You still don’t meet his gaze. He is still sitting in the same position, frowning slightly as he takes in your words, before he lets out a heavy sigh. A small tense silence engulfs the room.

“I feel the same”, he says, just barely a whisper. Your head whips around to finally meet his gaze. You look down at him from where you are perched on the side of the couch. “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t realize sooner”, he continues, “especially after the call, and what I said to you. When you are gone, I really do miss you, doll, not just the sex, but… you”. He meets you gaze with a tired smile, and you can’t believe your ears. Your towns hottest, most eligible bachelor; the only guy who has made your heart jump like this and, for the record, the only guy who has actually made you come, has reciprocated feelings for you.

You smile lightly at him, “Really?” you choke out through unwanted tears which started at nerve crying turned into happy sobs. He chuckles, reaching his long arm to intertwine your finger with his, “C’mere babygirl”. You push yourself off the arm of the couch and slide into his lap. One hand laces around your waist while the other is on your thigh, holding you steady. His lips meet yours in a closed-mouth kiss. His hand on your waist travels up to tangle in your hair as he inhales a moan from you, using the opportunity to weave his tongue into your mouth, intertwining yours and his in a heated kiss as you grind down on his hardening cock. He pulls away to gaze at your blissed out face, lips swollen and plump, you smile at him through your daze of joy and love for the man in front of you. “My pretty girl”, he says, caressing the back of your hair, bring his hand around to cup your face and running his thumb over your kiss-drunk lips. You kiss the pad of his thumb. “You’re mine, sweetheart, my gorgeous girl”. He uses his thumb to ease open your mouth before reconnecting your lips in a tongue and teeth clashing kiss. “I don’t care if your father finds out”, he says between hot kisses and your uncontrollable light moans, “you’re my girl and that is all that matters to me”. You feel the arousal warming your panties at his words, as he slips his hand from your thigh up your skirt. Feeling how wet you are makes him grin against your lips, “all for me?”, he whispers more so to himself. “All for you”, you confirm, gasping as he slips a finger through your wet folds. Collecting your arousal, he coats his fingers and slips them inside you. Gasping, you grab onto his shoulders for support, as he reconnects your lips with his. You bring your hand up to caress his face, as he pulls your body closer with the hand that’s not inside you. He swallows your moans as you ride his fingers. “Good girl, you’re doing so well for me baby. You’re taking my fingers so well”, he praises, pressing his forehead to yours as you both watch his fingers moving in and out. You feel the coil in your stomach tighten quickly, and you squeeze his fingers. Joel speeds up slightly, your mouth falling open as a string of moans and gasps escape you. “Joel, I’m—I’m gonna “. “That’s its baby, come for me”, Joel whispers, sending you over the edge as your head falls to his shoulders; your teeth meeting the skin there. Your pussy clamps down on his fingers as he continues to move his fingers in and out slowly, riding out your high. When the stimulation gets too much, you bring your hand down to his, moving it out from inside you. You kiss him, ardently, as he brings both muscular arms to engulf you. When you both pull away for air, you notice your bitemark on his should. “Oh shit”, you run your hand over it, “I’m so sorry baby, heat of the moment I guess”, you breathe. He follows your gaze and chuckles, “Sweetheart, I didn’t even feel it”, he assures you, a cheeky, horny look decorating his features, “Besides, I’m sure that’s not going to be the first time tonight”, he chuckles. You roll your eyes, playfully slapping his shoulder as he hoists you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, as he carries you to the hotel bed, lips nudging that sweet spot behind your ear.

 The day, which had started out as unwanted nerves and hopelessness, as you mourned the inevitable death of your relationship with your dad’s best friend Joel, had ended so much better than you had expected. And as you feel asleep with your head on his chest, listening to his shallow breathing as one large hand was tucked around your waist, rubbing circles on your bare skin, you couldn’t help but smile. He was yours. Now and always.

~

[wosowrites]

Legacy’s Daughter (Leah Williamson x Reader)

warnings: none

a/n: probably the shortest fic i’ve ever written. based off this request:

prompt: in which leah is dating the daughter of one of the old lionesses and the reader goes with her mother to get her legacy cap.

Your mother was Kelly Smith. Yeah, the Kelly Smith. She had adopted you at only 24 year old. The adoption was out of the blue, and quite random to the fans, but you meant everything to her.

It also just so happened that Leah Williamson was a pretty big fan of Kelly. Having done the walkout with the former english captain as a young girl.

In August of 2022, at a Euros celebration party, you had met Leah for the first time. At the time, you were 20 and Leah was 24. Things had gotten a little wild, there was a lot of alcohol involved, and then an unplanned hookup. But after that night, when the alcohol wore off, you couldn’t brush the feeling of wanting to see her again.

Today, 8 months later, you and Leah were dating. The lionesses knew, so did your mother, but your relationship stayed private from the fans for now.

You sat in the drivers seat of your mothers car, driving up to St-George’s park. Today, she would receive her legacy cap.

You pulled up in the parking lot and then looked over to your mother. "Mum?" You said gently. "Yes sweetheart?" She asked, putting her phone down. "I’m really grateful for you. You had no reason to adopt me when you were so young. But you did, and you kept on captaining England and I’m so lucky to have you. And i’m really proud you’re my mum." You said to her.

Your mother smiled at you and leaned it to hug you, holding her close to you. "Okay. Let’s go get that cap." You smiled at her. "You just want to see your girlfriend." Kelly laughed. "I do." You answered.

You had always been close with your mother, she was the best mother ever. The perfect balance of being parent like and your best friend.

You walked in together, photographers already taking pictures. The second you found yourselves in the large futsal gym, you took in your surroundings. Multiple tables with dozens of red legacy caps, a bunch of former and current lionesses, and in the middle of it all, your girlfriend.

You walked up to her, tapping her on the shoulder and making her look away from her friends. "Baby!" She said happily. She wrapped her arms around your waist and spun you around as you wrapped your arms around her neck. "I’m happy to see you" she said into your hair. "You saw me yesterday." You giggled. "And i’m happy to see you again."

You let go of her and smiled at her, taking in her features instead of kissing her.

She took in yours and then you had to look away to not be too suspicious due to the cameras everywhere.

The ceremony started soon enough, they called the names of different former lionesses, and eventually, it was your mothers turn. You clapped loudly and whooped as she walked up to get her hat. As current captain, Leah placed it on her head and gave her a quick hug and a smile.

Leah gave a speech at the end of the hat distribution, and then came over to you. "I’m happy you came with Kelly." Leah said to you, putting her arm around your shoulders. "Me too. Life’s really crazy. She would never have known that the girl she walked out with that one game when you were like… 8 would end up being her daughters girlfriend. And the best captain englands ever had." You said to her. "Woah! Dont let your mum hear that." Leah laughed. "Hey! There my words but there also hers. She always says it. You’re the best Englands ever seen, Leah." you told your girlfriend.

[rewritingcanon]

roxanne and hugo headcanons please 🤲🏿

NYEHEHEHEHE OKAY 😋

roxanne:

perfect mix between angelina and george looks-wise. she’s got her mum’s complexion, hair, eye colour, naturally straight teeth and crazy metabolism, but her smile is her dad’s, her eye shape is her dad’s, her hands are long and spindly like her dad’s, and she flaps them around constantly when she’s being dramatic and talking. she also laughs like him. but funnily enough shes shorter than both her parents and she has no idea why.

people think fred and james are the new pranksters because of their namesakes but dont let this fool you. roxanne claims title over this

no for real she is a menace and she is more fred weasley than her brother. which sometimes pisses him off but you can rarely stay mad at her even if she is a shit.

great quidditch player. is a beater. daydreams about hitting her opps with her bat during history of magic class as a preventative from falling asleep

hoards fake tattoos. LOVES THEM. like she’ll never get a real tattoo, but she loves the fake ones

laughs at men who confess their love to her but takes the women who confess to her seriously (she’s not into girls she just respects them more)

pranks her dad the most. then her dad pranks her. fred and angelina… run for cover…

had a situationship with some transfer from durmstrang and literally never lived it down from fred

only got close with rose at hogwarts. shes a year younger than rose and she’s shocked to find out she’s secretly likeable

her favourite uncle is percy— yeah you would never guess. but she loves hanging with people who act like they have a small stick up their butt— it’s more rewarding when she wrangles a laugh out of them. plus percy spoils her the most and she has a sneaking suspicion she is secretly is favourite niece.

people pay her to prank their opps. shes like a clown hitman.

exercised for like a week and got abs from it. everyone is upset. also. is a gym bro. probably the master herder of all the gym bros.

made a secret trolls account to troll people. thought she was so smart for mashing the two concepts together.

ate playdough when she was a kid and was disappointed with how it tasted.

master jinxer. for real, cover your ankles if you’re an opp

opps in general tremble

never fought much with her parents, which is really fucking strange. maybe its because fred fought with angelina and george a lot so roxanne sought unconsciously to balance that out, but she just never thought anything was that serious enough to fight over

but she DOES have fights with fred. sometimes they scrap in the middle of the common room and the reason will be because she chucked a piece of paper at him or something. then two seconds later after she’s got bruises up her legs and he’s literally got a black eye, they’re showing each other their memes.

she’s extremely close with both parents but her best friend is literally her mum and when she gets a letter from her mum at dinner at hogwarts she’ll shamelessly start celebrating and cheering.

“look guys my mummy replied to me!!” “didnt she literally write to you yesterday?”

had pink hair for a moment in time in fifth year and pretended it was on purpose (she meant for it to be red whoops)

hugo:

looks a lot like ron except has his mums bushy brown hair (because thats canon… i know.. crazy…). very freckley and has a deeper complexion but not like his mum’s (yea hes lightskin 💪). built short like his mum though, and rose makes fun of him until he wakes up randomly one morning and hes 6ft.

personality wise hes a mix between his parents. hes a lot like ron in the sense that hes made of dry humour and loyalty to his friends, but like hermione in that he gets exasperated easily and also possesses undying loyalty. now that i think about it, hugo is just extremely loyal

definition of little freak. you know how as the line of cousins gets younger and younger and the youngest of them all is always just a weirdo? yeah, hugo is the youngest.

has a butt indentation on his bed from sitting on it and playing roblox all day. wont move from bed until he gets banned on the servers and is forced to touch grass

but when he touches grass he is all for the grass. rose has his ass on life360 and suddenly hes taken a train up to bumfuck nowhere to go on a spontaneous nature hike. suddenly he’s signed up to a chess club and queen gambits his way to the top spot. suddenly hes in a random protest and he doesnt even know what hes there for he just likes the energy

is called “snotty rat boy” in rose’s contacts

basically is a punching bag for all older siblings but is numb to the abuse and just accepts it (its all well-meaning and full of love)

is aroace but LOVES valentines. he goes all out to get cards for all his friends and family and makes them little trinkets (he can’t buy them anything bcuz hes a broke baby and has too much pride to ask his mum for money only to get her something thats worth less) and plans platonic dates and gets very offended when they have to cancel to spend time with their actual romantic partners. he once rang his mate up to ask for a refund for his time (he was joking but hugo is dramatic as hell and needs to feel loved at all times or else he will literally die)

is the main character of a cartoon network show. i just dont know what..

ipad kid vibes

cant cook anything but really good homemade pizza for some strange reason???

confirmed he was aroace when he was playing truth or dare with his gryffindor buddies (because hugo is definitely a gryffindor) late at night and got dared to french kiss some guy. after he had to flee the scene and brush his teeth out to get that gross taste away, and yeah, he had his suspicions beforehand but this basically confirmed it. and every time he recalls the feeling of kissing someone like That he gets this thousand yard stare on him… one would think hes having war flashbacks….

despite not wanting to get married like That, he wants to be a dad when hes older. He has a list of baby names on his notes app (or wizard equivalent), but they’re all shitty things you would name an oc or a sim, not a real person. shit like “ebony” or “crystal” or “axel.” he showed his list to lily luna once and she laughed and called them stripper names so he got mad and kept it very secretive from then on.

genius chess player. wizard beth harmon who?

is a vegan. it started as a joint pack with hermione (ron and rose said “fuck no”) but hermione caved after six months because she cant stay away from coffee. hugo persisted though

is the only one allowed to ruthlessly rip into and bully the shit out of rose. im not kidding, her parents cant even do it. theyre too scared. meanwhile hugo will walk past her in the hallway and say “oh you look uggo today” with a deadass straight face

thinks about moving out one day and having his own family and thinks about rose moving out and having her own family and how that family will be her primary family and he will be secondary family and how they will have to leave their parents one day— he instantly breaks down into tears. hes just a baby bird guyz plz!!!

does not have any parent hes closer to. ron spoils him more but also scolds him more. hermione rewards him less but lets him get away with more. it balances out.

very close with lily luna so when rose and albus had their falling out they just gossiped about it the entire time. lily would tell him how albus cried for three hours straight during lunch and hugo would tell her how rose started to fixate on their shower and started deep cleaning it the muggle way at four in the morning like she was possessed

is james’ godbrother but keeps forgetting it 💀

not bad at quidditch but never took a huge liking to it. likes watching more than playing and just agrees with whatever his dad’s opinions are on the teams (indoctrination)

able to cast a patronus before rose learned which had her tweak out a lot.

ive written tonnes…. so i will leave it there lol

[twst-drabbles]

Trapped in a Fish's Eye 3

Summary: Floyd hunts down a student that had a sandwich in his hand. A sandwich that wasn't prepared by the hands of Azul, Jade or Floyd.

(Ah, good ol cannibalism. It was bound to come about sooner or later. Had to keep from the laptop yesterday. The internet was simply not having it. Anyways, here's Floyd. He's being real mean here.)

"Oh? Haha. Caught another one," Floyd casually said after breaking down a door with a reckless kick, as though this was all just happenstance and not a hunt. "I told you. You can't eat that."

Floyd leaned in real close and whispered to the student who shoved himself into a corner. He grabbed his head to keep him from doing any funny business and swiped the sandwich. Floyd let go of the student, but he continued to shiver.

Oh look, he's starting to cry. His poor belly must be aching so much. Oh well.

Floyd stood up and flipped the sandwich this way and that. He opened it and took a good whiff of the red meat inside.

Floyd grinned, "Yup, that's not a sandwich any of us would make. Looks like it though, I'll give the cook that. Though…"

Floyd slammed his heel into the plaster right next to the student's head. He yelped and curled further inward, like he was some innocent fish that didn't do anything wrong.

"You heard the rules, didn't ya?" Floyd drawled out, "Don't take food that wasn't made by Azul, Jade or me! So why did you have something that clearly wasn't given to you by any of us? Huh?"

"…" The student gulped but said nothing.

Floyd grabbed his hair and pulled him up. "Hmm? Come on. You can tell me. And I promise I won't squeeze you that tightly, alright?"

The student writhed and trembled, but ultimately opened his mouth. "…I was… I was hungry." His voiced ended with a whine.

The food rations had to be cut down significantly to only what is absolutely needed. Floyd didn't like that, neither did Jade or Azul, but this was this and that was that. Nobody had any clue how long they're going to be trapped in this dorm and as much as Floyd wanted to do the same thing and eat whatever he sees, your word is basically law around here.

Floyd was running on empty and all that chasing, while fun, only reminded him that he too was hungry as well. But at least he wasn't a whiner about it.

"Yeah, so?" Floyd let go, already feeling gross from touching this student, "Didn't you get the memo? We have no meats."

No fish, no chicken or anything of the like. It all spoiled quickly. Too quickly.

"And that sandwich had some," Floyd didn't let the food go. If he did, he's more than sure that this student would dive in and swallow it in one gulp, "So you gotta ask yourself, where did this meat come from? Are you really going to eat some mystery meat just because you're a little hungry?"

"But… but does it matter? I just-"

"Nope. I hate that answer. Shut up." Floyd meant to tap the student's chin but accidentally kick it instead. "Whoops. Oh well."

The weak student was thrown to the floor. He snorted and sniffed then started a whiny weep.

"Floyd," And Jade walked in at just the right time, as though he wasn't lingering around the doorway, watching it all go down. Of course Floyd would notice him. Everything is getting on Floyd's nerves. "You shouldn't be so rough on the little and weak. You might very well break him."

"I'm not trying to break him," Floyd sighed everything out and leaned against the nearest wall. Ah, he's done being angry and annoyed. "It's not my fault he didn't weigh much."

Floyd wants to give a nickname, but he gave up on that too. No point anyway. This student isn't all that interesting. Has the sort of face and voice that blends with everyone else.

"So, what are you here for, Jade?"

"Hmm? Oh!" Jade pretended to be forgetful, but his smile was weird. Out of place, almost. And he wouldn't keep his eyes off the sandwich in Floyd's hand. "Here, a plastic bag. You might want to put that… lunch in there."

"Hmm, why? Is it meat infected or something?" It's mystery meat, Floyd knows that, so it's probably infected. But still, he wanted to probe.

Only then did Jade's smile truly became stuff, like he had something nasty resting on his tongue. "It could be, but that's not the concern. Azul and I have a… theory, of sorts, that this meat might actually belong to someone."

"What? Like they were hiding a packet in their jacket or something?" Floyd joked, if only to annoy Jade, needle at him. He likes doing that, spouting out dumb things just to frustrate his brother.

Floyd's knew. Suspected it from the start, really. But Azul and Jade weren't the kind to follow their instincts. No, they gotta test it out. Make sure it's actually true before even hinting that had something.

Anyways, Jade took the bait. He was right back to his polite, smiling self and even laughed into his hand. "Don't be silly Floyd. That meat was part of a person. It's one thing for us to eat the rest of our potential siblings. We were thoughtless babes, after all. It's another to butcher someone you've once known as a fellow colleague and prepare them as afternoon lunch."

What was Jade thinking, trying to word himself carefully around Floyd?

Floyd knocked against the wall, casting his gaze to the student that has went completely silent. He was biting his knuckles, completely and utterly stiff. Was he horrified? Probably.

"You heard that?" Floyd said, "That was someone you were about to eat. Might want to be careful of your choices next time, 'kay? Otherwise, I'll squeeze ya."

Now Floyd can leave this kid be and go on hunting for the others. Well, that's if they haven't eaten them yet.

[froizetta]

WIP Wednesday (but it's Thursday)

So I told myself I would post this yesterday, but when I left for the evening I realised I hadn't in fact done that. Whoops! But hey, it's only like 4 and a half past midnight on Baker Island, so if you think about it, it basically still counts as Wednesday. Right?

Anyway, this one is the next chunk of my superbatlantern fic, because I thought I might as well just commit and post what's basically the end of chapter 1. (For anyone who hasn't read the preceding parts: part 1 and part 2.)

“You were spying on us,” Bats said in that rough, low growl of his. He didn’t sound happy.

Well, there didn’t seem much point in denying it at this point, huh? “Yeah,” he said.

“Why.”

“Is that really important?” Hal shrugged. “Curiosity, mostly. I sensed a little sexual tension earlier in that meeting, while you two were going at it with each other.” The word choice made Batman’s eyebrow twitch gratifyingly. “I thought maybe you’d come in here to continue what you started, so I decided to check. That’s all.”

Superman went from looking mostly dismayed to a little bewildered. “So you wanted to catch us—what? Having sex? This is the Watchtower, we wouldn’t— Why would you think we’d even do that here?”

Hal felt his eyebrows raise. “What, you mean you haven’t? Ever?” Superman didn’t say anything to that, which to Hal was pretty much as good as an admission. He grinned. “Heh, thought so. I always knew you were less of a boy scout than you let on.”

Superman looked like he wanted to respond to that, but Batman cut him off coolly before he could. “Clark, focus. Hal’s concerning attempts at voyeurism aside—”

“Hey!” Hal objected. “I wasn’t out there trying to jack off or anything, don’t make it weird—”

“Putting that aside,” Bats continued firmly, “we need to deal with the real issue here.”

He turned his ice-blue gaze on Superman, who met it immediately as if by instinct. They did that kind of thing a lot, silently communicating with each other with just a look or a subtle gesture, like they had some kind of freaky, psychic bond. Just like now, where the meaningful glances exchanged above Hal’s head were a whole conversation he couldn’t hear.

…Huh. Hal probably should have figured they were dating a while ago, actually.

After a long few seconds, they seemed to come to an agreement. Superman turned back to address him, stoic and serious. “Hal, we need to know you’re not going to spread this around.”

Hal raised an eyebrow. “Or what? You’re gonna blackmail me? Kick me out of the League? Put my feet in a bucket of cement and drop me into the Atlantic?”

A muscle flexed in Batman’s jaw, the way it always did when he was pissy. “Obviously not.”

“Good,” he said, flashing the ring alongside his signature grin. “Because I’m not feeling super threatened.”

That muscle flexed again and Batman’s hands clenched to fists. Okay, so he was really pissed, huh? “Christ, Jordan, this isn’t the time for your pointless posturing,” he snarled. “Can't you take this seriously, for once in your life—”

“Bruce,” Superman said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine, okay? It’s Hal.”

Hal bristled, unsure what the guy meant by that but instinctually convinced that it had to be some kind of dig at his expense. But before he could say anything righteously indignant, Bats just kind of…softened? There wasn’t really another word for it, all that sneering tension seeping out of him in an instant. Bats reached up to squeeze the hand on his shoulder, grateful and reassuring, and it all felt so easily intimate that whatever words were about to come out caught in Hal’s throat.

Hal swallowed. Geez, what was wrong with him? He wasn’t normally like this around Ollie and Dinah, and god knows they weren’t that shy about PDA. And this was barely even that. What about it was weirding him out so much? Just because it was them?

Superman smiled at him, all benevolence and understanding but for the tension around his eyes. “Look, there’s a reason we’ve been keeping our relationship private. We agreed when this started that dating openly would be too complicated and too much risk for our secret identities. And unfortunately, that includes the Justice League. You know how gossip spreads among the superhero community.”

Boy did he. When Carol had dumped him for good, he’d gotten a commiseration text from Booster Gold. Fucking Booster Gold.

“And I don’t want what we do in our private time encroaching on what we do here,” he went on. “We have a leadership position in League together with Diana. The two of us being in a relationship could…complicate things, here.”

“You don’t want that, huh, big guy?” Hal said. “That not a concern your boyfriend shares?”

Batman’s expression remained blank. Superman’s eyes hardened. “Don't try to change the subject, please. This is serious.”

“Clark is right,” Bats said. “Hal, we need explicit verbal confirmation. Will you agree to keep this a secret, or are we going to have a problem?”

Hal shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

Both of them paused.

“Really,” Batman said, with an edge of suspicion. “Just like that.”

“Yeah, just like that. Why are you acting so surprised? I’m in this game too, I know the drill. I can keep a secret.”

“You wear a flight suit with your name on it under your Lantern uniform.”

“And yet somehow, the general public hasn’t worked it out yet. Go figure.” He felt his lips pull into a sneer. “Look, what do you want from me? I said I won’t blab and I won’t. Am I supposed to sign a pact in blood or something?”

“Shockingly, I wasn’t actually going to suggest that,” Batman said dryly. “But it would certainly be more comforting than just taking it on faith.”

Hal gritted his teeth. “Oh, right. So you don’t trust me, is that it?”

“Bruce,” Superman said, frowning.

Bats just shook his head. “It’s nothing personal. Trust alone is a poor basis for most agreements.”

“So that’s a 'no, I don’t trust you' then? Fuck you too. How many times have I pulled your ass out of the fire by now, Spooky—”

“Fewer times than I’ve done the same for you—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Superman cut in, face like gentle thunder. “Bruce, we’re asking him for a favor here. Antagonizing him is counterproductive.” Bats just grunted and looked away. “And Hal, you have to understand this is difficult for us. For both of us. We’ve kept this hidden for a long time, from almost everyone in our lives, and you’re the first person to find out like this. I hope you can appreciate the gravity of that.”

Hal scrubbed a hand through his hair, feeling the sudden rush of anger drain out of him. It was honestly hard to stay mad when Superman was using his Nice Reasonable Mediator voice. “Yeah, I… Look, I do get it, okay? I’m not gonna blab, because no matter what either of you think, I’m not that big of an asshole. I don’t go around fucking up other people’s relationships for fun, you know.”

“We know, Hal,” Superman said, reassuringly. Batman was annoyingly silent.

“Cool. Are we done here?”

“We’re done,” Bats said.

Thank god. Hal was feeling shittier and antsier the longer he sat here with these guys.

[trashboatprince]

In one of the only comics Fourteen has, they end up on a Sycorax ship and find a pig there, taking the little guy with them on an adventure.

I'd like to believe Fourteen still has the pig, so that's why I'm writing this one-shot.

As always, I write Fourteen with they/them pronouns, but as this is a fic through Donna's perspective, and she hasn't learned their pronouns yet, she uses he/him. This isn't out of disrespect, the Doctor just hasn't bothered to tell anyone yet because they don't care.

On with the fic!

--

Donna yawned as she made her way down the stairs of the UNIT home her family was going to be staying in for a bit until her old home was rebuilt, or she got something better. She should probably still be sleeping, especially after the three, very dangerous adventures with the Doctor she had went on yesterday, but she was a mom, which meant sleeping in wasn't always gonna happen.

Plus, Shaun hogged all the blankets again, and she wasn't in the mood to yank them off her adorable husband.

So, time for some coffee.

As she shuffled into the kitchen, Donna heard a very familiar voice, muffled be being outside.

"-if you don't behave yourself, I'll give you back to the Vega Raptons!"

There was a strange noise, followed by the Doctor responding with "Yes, you're right, that's just going to upset them. Now, stop trying to chew on the chicken wire!"

Donna sighed loudly, rubbing at her face. "What are you up to now, spaceman..." She growled under her breath. Quickly, she got the kettle started and made her way to the sliding door that let to the backyard.

There, she found a sight that really shouldn't have surprised her, considering who her best friend was, and yet...

The Doctor always just had to find a way to knock her socks off, whether she wanted him to or not.

The TARDIS was in the yard, her doors open, with a trail of things coming out of her. Nearby was the Doctor, who was in the middle of constructing a large (at least for the yard) circular fence. There was a small little hut at one end, like those kind you get for dogs when they're outside, and the grass within the circle had been removed, leaving dirt.

And sitting in the circle, that was being wrapped in chicken wire, was a young, tusked pig.

"What. The. Hell!" Donna shouted, startling the Doctor, who dropped his nail gun with a shout of his own.

"D-Donna! Ah, good morning..!" The Doctor stood right up, dusting dirt off his pajama pants, had he been out here since last night?

"Doctor, what is going on!? Why'd you tear up the yard, this isn't our house! And where did that pig come from!?"

The Doctor blinked, then looked at the pig, as if noticing it for the first time, even though he had just spoken to it moments ago. "Ah. Right. Forgot to tell you about him."

He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet. "Soooo... this is Alfredo. Alfredo, this is Donna, I was telling you about her."

The pig actually nodded at this.

"Yeah, anyway, I rescued him shortly after I regenerated. Had this whole... thing after fighting some Daleks, and accidentally helping in their design, whoops. Ended up on a Sycorax ship! Remember those? Oh, wait, you were hungover that Christmas morning, right. Anyway, they had this little guy there torturing the Vega Raptons that were enslaved and-"

Donna held up a hand. "Get to the point, Doctor."

"Yes, of course! So, saved the day, took the pig into the TARDIS. He was in there the whole time!"

"Even when the ship was on fire!?"

"..." The Doctor made a face, glancing between her and the TARDIS. "He was protected. She kept him safe!"

"But not us!"

"Well, we were at ground zero of the whole coffee fiasco, so... that's kinda why she kicked us out."

"We escaped before we were incinerated by a giant blast of fire." Donna huffed, crossing her arms.

The Doctor scratched at the back of his head. "Well, she opened the doors, that counts!"

She sighed loudly. "Fine, whatever, but what are you doing? Why are you building this? You can't keep the pig!"

"But Alfredo wants to live with me, he's my little friend!" The Doctor looked at the pig, who was rolling around in the dirt. "Aw, that's really cute."

"Do you even know how to care for a pig? Bet you don't. I bet you can't even care for a plant!"

"Donna, there is a whole greenhouse inside the TARDIS, course I can take care of a plant. And a pig! Plus, Alfredo's a smart boy, it'll be easy!"

Donna wasn't impressed. "Does UNIT know you tore up the yard?"

His eyes went wide. "Uhhh... not. Yet. I'll tell them later today! Come on, Donna, please let me keep him? I'll take good care of him!"

"Doctor..." Donna started, being hearing the sliding door open.

"Mum, did you turn on the kettle? Cause it's read- is that a pig!?" Rose suddenly shot past Donna, rushing over to the half-finished pen. "He is! Oh, look at the li'l guy, he's adorable!"

"His name is Alfredo." The Doctor grinned.

"What a cute name for a piggy! Have you said 'allons-y Alfredo' yet?"

"Not yet, but hopefully soon!" The Doctor said with glee, then turned to Donna. "Come on! Rose approves of him! Rose, help me out, your mum don't want a pig."

"What!?" Rose turned around and Donna tried to stand her ground as she was being stared down by two sets of big, pleading brown eyes.

"Oh no! Don't you two dare work your charms on me!" She shouted at them.

"Pllllleeeeeaaasseeee, Mum! I promise I'll help the Doctor take care of him!" Rose pouted.

"Yeah!" The Doctor nodded. "We'll work together! Plllleeaaasseee?"

Donna groaned and threw back her head in defeat. "Fine! But you two are responsible, not me! You two will take care of him and all his needs! And Doctor, you better call UNIT and let them know."

"Got it! Thank you, Donna! You're the best!" The Doctor was grinning even more now.

"Yeah, the best!" Rose added, then turned back to Alfredo, scratching the top of his head.

Donna sighed and turned, shaking her head and muttering about how she was going back to bed.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

WIP Wthursday

meant to post yesterday and then forgot bc of who i am as a person so, whoops. anyway, current state of affairs

embroidery:

absolutely 0 progress on the Hermit since i last posted it in like mid september. whoops. i WILL finish this thing by veilguard i swear but for some reason it's just grueling every step of the way. meanwhile, i'm banging out this mini version of The Tower in like 4 days. I want to post the pattern/thread colors I made for my big design, but i feel guilty selling a pattern for a piece where i hand-dyed at least 5 of the colors involved. So I'm making a second version with only commercially available colors as an alternative (and a slightly less saturated background), and I'll include both color guides as options.

haven't made any new digital designs/patterns since the last one of the qunari dialogue symbol. considering making a new one for another piece of art to copy out, but currently unclear on how to get the proportions for the frame accurately copied into photoshop because I want to try an oval frame instead of circular so... yeah. we'll see.

writing:

went digging through my old WIPs folder and found a k!meme prompt fic for Lavellan getting hit by a truth spell that I'd basically almost finished and then just... completely forgot about I guess? it's a silly premise and under 15k so it must have just poofed from my brain when I moved and lost track of all my then-projects.

           Just the memory sends a flush down the back of her neck, her heartbeat skipping inside her chest like a stone over water. She can almost feel it, even here, her legs aching after a days of travel. The warmth of his body against hers in the cold air of the mountains. The unexpected passion of their kiss, the pressure of his lips crushing against her own, driving all other thoughts from her mind.             The way just beforehand he’d still hesitated, almost tearing himself away.             That’s the real problem, she thinks to herself, as she tries to ignore the wet slapping noise the drenched fabric of her robes makes with every step. She just can’t reconcile the intensity of his words with the way he keeps drawing himself back again. Every time she considers making another move, she can’t help but think that maybe it will be what convinces him she’s not worth the trouble after all.             Ar lath ma, he’d told her, despite it all.             She has no idea how to respond to something like that.

the first two and final chapters are entirely finished, while 3/4 are more disjointed segments that need some fleshing out. but i'll probably just go ahead and post the first bit soon because why not. maybe that'll push me to clean it up faster. i'll also be honest. half of this fic is like... the prompt premise, and the other half is just. me wishing i was out backpacking. i wrote it the summer of lockdowns when i went from working outside 5 days a week to bedroom WFH prison, and its funny rereading now like. oh yeah so i was going fully insane about not being the one camping myself, huh.

Anyway. otherwise I also started another new short thing for my still currently nameless No-Longer-Lavellan from reunion, but it's only a couple hundred words and some vague notes so far. Not sure if I'll turn it into something more polished or leave it as general musings. I wish I could draw better because I have way more concrete visions for visual art for that whole scenario but, alas.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

There was a party outside the Bill Murray pub yesterday, home to Angel Comedy, a really really cool comedy club in London. They had comedians doing sets out of windows and off of rooftops, a situation in which filming and sharing the film on the internet is fair game, because if you don’t want the shit you say posted online, you shouldn’t shout it from a rooftop to a crowded yard in the middle of the afternoon. As such, yesterday I posted a video of Sam Campbell’s set, which was fucking awesome and everyone should go watch it and take the advice in his crowd work about downloading videos off YouTube.

Sam Campbell talked some shit about Nish Kumar during his set, and this is because Nish was the headline act, so he was in the area to make Sam say horrible things or whatever else he was accused of doing. Well guess what, everyone? That guy who filmed Sam Campbell also got Nish Kumar’s entire 24-minute set, which is fucking amazing. I have been lucky enough to hear a lot of stand-up comedy in the last couple of years, and this specific video, for the novelty of the occasion and the timing and everything else, is one of my favourite things I’ve gotten. And I’m allowed to share it. Because if you don’t want the things you say shared on the public internet, you shouldn’t shout them from a rooftop like, to quote the eighth wonder of the world, a fucking Beatle. (This weirdly is not the first time I’ve said the following sentence on this blog: “That analogy is of course imperfect, because hopefully Nish Kumar has beaten fewer women than John Lennon.”) When I made my post yesterday comparing the rooftop comedians to Beatles, I had not yet heard Nish Kumar’s set in which he did the same thing. I mean, it’s a very obvious comparison to make and was probably everyone’s first thought, but still, let me have this, I like that I chose the same comparison as Nish Kumar.

This is so fucking cool. This is, as Nish acknowledges right at the beginning, pretty much exactly how Nish Kumar is meant to be. He should always be shouting his material from a fucking rooftop, really. I’ve heard him talk in podcasts about how weird it is (in good ways and bad ways) that sometimes some of his gigs start to feel like a rally, but I’ve heard a bunch of Nish Kumar stand-up gigs and I’ve never heard that rally effect before this one. The way the audience cheers and whoops the more significant points, that’s the rally he’s described on podcasts. I’m going to guess the rally effect was triggered 5% because a major general election has just been called so everyone’s feeling pretty hyped up about politics, and 95% because it’s pretty hard to shout political screeds to a gathered crowd from a literal rooftop and have it not turn into a rally. I’ve heard plenty of Nish Kumar stand-up before, but it was something excitingly different to see a Nish Kumar rally (obviously the rally effect has its downsides, as Nish has outlined in measured interviews on podcasts before, but I’m pretty sure this specific one was cool).

This was the Nish Kumar that the tabloids think he is, the Nish Kumar that’s caricatured by other comedians who make jokes about him, the Nish Kumar that he isn’t always. This was 24 minutes of material that was purely, specifically political. I say “specifically” because sure, all Nish’s material is political in the same way that everything is political, he can take cultural or sociological or personal topics and tie them back to some political lens. But this set was entirely material about specific party politics or politicians, which isn’t how he always is. Nish Kumar’s current show involves stuff about football injuries and eccentric billionaires and making fun of Ed Gamble and talking shit about right-wing comedians and terrible Channel 4 television shows and some movie about tennis and listening to podcasts on a train. He specifically chose, for this set, to skip all of those topics, stick entirely to his stuff about various governments, and make it a political rally. And given the nature of this occasion (shouting from an actual rooftop) and the current timing, I think that was a fairly cool decision.

I might be wrong, but I think he’s going to structure his current show, when it’s a proper coherent hour-long format, around that little government history lesson dating back to Gordon Brown, but fill it out with the other stuff, from here and his less explicitly political things. I’m not sure that that’s what he’s doing, but it’s my guess based on how he’s structured these WIP sets, and as I’ve said before, it’s not reached it’s final form yet but if he takes all his current bits and structures them all nicely around some historical context (I fucking love historical context), I think he might be currently stringing together the best stand-up show of the last whole bunch of years. Not Nish’s best show. The best show. The part of my brain that is careful with language is yelling at me to change that to “my favourite show”, which obviously would be much more accurate because comedy is subjective, but no, that part of my brain can fuck off for this one time. You heard me, I meant what I said. It’s the best stand-up show.

This isn’t that show, it’s 24 cherry-picked minutes of it, delivered from a rooftop with the passion of eighteen comedians and six political activists, and what more could you want than that? I have to admit, this video made me start to think… what do I have booked at 14:50 during my five days in Edinburgh this summer, on the four days when I am not currently booked to see Nish Kumar (in his regular show, not podcast)? And should I consider skipping any of them to see Nish Kumar’s show more than once? I won’t, obviously. That would be an absurd thing to do, a waste of the amazing and unique opportunity that the Edinburgh Fringe Festival offers to see that wide a range of acts in one place. I won’t do that. I’m just saying that for one moment, watching him near the end of his set with the wind in his hair like an action movie star/Beatle shouting at the audience at the top of his voice and doing everything at once, I did briefly consider it. Seriously, there's a bit near the end where he does look like he's doing a fight scene in a movie. I don't call him the eighth wonder of the world for nothing.

I am ridiculously lucky that the coolest person I know got this whole thing on video so I get to see it despite the size of the Atlantic Ocean, and anyone else reading this post is ridiculously lucky that you get ot see it too, definitely give this a watch. And a download, as Sam Campbell mentioned. It's not likely to get taken down any time soon or anything, it's just good to get in the habit of saving your media.

(Obligatory note: Obviously this also made me laugh, I always feel the need to clarify that with a Nish Kumar set where I talk about anything besides specifically how funny it was, because I feel like I'm validating the people who claim he's just a "political rally" guy and people like him because they agree with him and not because he's funny, I didn't talk about it much in this post because Nish is always funny so in this post I focused on what made this set different from the others, but yes this set was also very fucking funny, I figure that can just go without saying once in a while. I'll tell you what, the first time I listen to more than three minutes of a Nish Kumar stand-up set without having to catch my breath from laughter, I'll let you know. Until then, assume it's funny.)

[no-thoughts-only-soup]

To Secure/Risk It All

Chapter 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

GOING FULL AU BABYYYYYYYY

I once again don’t know too much about SCP :P

—————

Ivan was already done with today. Because after Christian’s random ass stunt yesterday, the Foundation apparently decided to punish all of them for it. So not only did he had to look at Christian’s smug face the whole day, all they got for breakfast was a foul smelling slurry that only he was brave enough to taste.

Granted, it didn’t taste that bad, but it did something much worse: it made his breath stink like a sewer. Which meant that whole morning he was teased and roasted by his cell mates as he wondered what the fuck kind of mistakes he’d made to end up in this situation.

And of course, Curt came to their cell to pull them away for another assignment. As if they didn’t almost fucking die the day prior. Well, Den did die and she only just got back to life again.

That’s why he grumbled as he walked through the hallways, flanked by the two guards that were there to make sure they didn’t run away. Ivan was very tempted to.

With a deep breath, he cleared his head. Come on Ivan, it’s not the first time this kinda shit happens. You’ll be joking and smiling soon enough, just keep your eyes open to land a joke and you’ll feel better.

And thus he looked up and at his teammates, his eyes landing on Christian. Oh he could definitely make a joke about his trolling from yesterday.

He was thinking how to go about it when he suddenly realized Christian looked a little more serious than normal. He was quieter and while he glanced around, Ivan noticed his eyes kept returning to Curt. And as he followed, he understood why.

Curt was also a lot quieter than normal, with a look that was both serious and nervous. Hell, his whole posture screamed nervousness with how tense it was. As if something would jump out at any given moment. Curt suddenly locked eyes with him, and Ivan realized he was staring. He quickly walked forward to Den and Kristine to join in their conversation, though his mind kept coming back to Curt.

The hell is going on?

But before he could even begin to guess, Curt ordered for them to stop in front of a cell. Two heavy looking doors locked it, though Ivan had already come to know that it didn’t necessarily mean the thing inside was dangerous. However, the fact that Curt hadn’t said a word about their task yet unnerved him.

“You two.” Curt suddenly addressed the two guards. “Open the doors.”

The guards looked at each other, then back to Curt. “Sir, I don’t think we—“

“I’m sorry, who’s the B-Class here again?” Curt interrupted, uncharacteristically harsh. “Oh right, me. Just trust that I know what I’m doing.”

They shared a confused look once more, shrugged and then swung their guns to their back to start pulling on the door handles.

Ivan swallowed, ignoring the glint of metal in the corner of his eyes to try and peek whatever was behind the steel door. The guards pulled and pulled, inching the doors to a so far average looking cell open and open…

PEW

PEW

The two guards slumped to the ground, blood splatters staining the doors. Ivan whipped around, staring at Curt holding a still smoking silencer. “Dude, what the fu-“

Curt cuts him off by shooting the nearby security camera. “Change of plans guys, we’re getting out of here.”

“Fucking finally!” Christian cheered.

Den made a sound of relief. “Yes I was getting so tired of that stupid cell.”

And Ivan couldn’t help but grin along. “And those itchy ass uniforms, like, seriously I think they gave me rashes.”

Kristine whooped loudly. “JAILBREAK! JAILBREAK!”

But then Curt turned his gun on her. They froze, watching as Curt coldly glared at Kristine.

“Drop the radio and get into the cell.”

And they all looked at Kristine, whose face dropped as she took a step back, stammering. “B-but what? W-what are you-“

“I AINT JOKING AROUND KRISTINE!” Curt yelled angrily at her, stepping further to close the gap. “DROP THE RADIO AND GET INTO THE FUCKING CELL YOU TRAITOR!”

“I-I’m not… I’m just-“

“I WON’T HESITATE BITCH, GET IN THERE OR I’LL SHOOT!”

“Jesus Curt.” Ivan muttered. “The hell’s gotten into you?”

“Yeah what’s up between you and Kristine?” Den asked.

But Curt kept his eyes on Kristine. She looked at him with big, tear filled eyes… and ripped a small microphone out of her uniform and threw it on the ground.

There was a brief moment of silence. A moment of silence for realizing what just happened.

Christian broke it. “…You work for the Foundation. You’re a mole. That’s what felt off about you.”

She didn’t look them in the eyes, rubbing her arm. “I…”

“Save it.” Curt breathed out, sounding a lot calmer now. “Now, you’re still going into the cell. Don’t worry, this SCP won’t hurt you. But the cell will keep you there for a while. Now go. in.”

Kristine shuffled into the cell, defeated. After a moment of contemplation, Den and Christian grabbed the handles of the doors and pushed them close. In the last split second, Ivan saw Kristine’s face, full of guilt.

As they closed the door, Curt quickly reloaded his gun and grabbed one of the gun the guards were carrying, tossing it over to Christian. He wordlessly caught it. Ivan quickly grabbed the other one to avoid becoming the load again. It was heavy and cold, which only enhanced the gravity of their situation. This wasn’t a game. This was dangerous. One wrong move… and they’ll all be dead.

They all looked at Curt, who seemed to steel himself by the way he exhaled and tightly grabbed his gun. “We gotta hurry. Follow me.”

And they start running. And running. And running. Through gray hallways like a maze. Occasionally shooting a worker, and more often shooting cameras. With every minute they spend running, Ivan’s heart beat faster. His mind was filled with a thousand questions and a feeling of betrayal, but he shoved it to the side in favor of just following Curt.

Who suddenly stopped.

Ivan almost crashed into him. He stopped himself just in time, peering past Curt to see what it is.

A man blocked the hallway. He looked surprisingly normal, if not like a complete douchebag. Slicked back hair and a uniform that resembled Curt’s, but a tad fancier.

“Tsk, tsk,” the man began, “oh Curtis, what did I tell you about choices? It’s hard to believe the one you’re about to make.”

“Snee.” Curt stated, in a frightened kind of voice Ivan has never heard him speak. Mostly because it was… soft. And that’s what disturbs him. Whenever Curt is scared, he’s loud. To see him like this was… off to say the least.

“Yo you’re name is Snee?” Christian immediately broke the tension as he laughed. “God that sucks for you.”

“Imagine going to school and needing to tell the class your name is Snee.” Den chuckled.

Christian laughed even harder. “SNEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Ivan laughed along, but it was more out of nervousness than anything. This Snee guy was creeping him the hell out, especially with the way how Curt slightly shook as he trained his gun on him.

As for Snee himself… he didn’t seem impressed or insulted by his mockery. Instead, he looked at Curt directly.

“What I’m most surprised about however… is that you insist on assisting the escape of these D-Class inmates, despite how difficult they’ve made your life.”

It actually startled Curt. Christian immediately stopped laughing as well, looking a whole lot more serious suddenly.

Can anyone tell me what the fuck’s going on??

“Y-you don’t know shit about me.” Curt responded.

“Oh, but I do.” Send smiled slightly as he stepped closer. “They keep dragging you into dangerous situations that get you killed, continuously mock you and disregard you when it’s convenient for them. I’m truly curious, really, why are you siding with them over us? We have given you a stable job, with a sizable salary, and coworkers who treat you with respect. And yet you wish to throw all of that away, for… can I truly label them as your ‘friends’?”

And those words… struck a nerve.

“Hey.” Ivan called him out, stepping forward and lifting an arm to separate him from Curt. Snee looked at him, downright contemptuously. Ivan refused to cower under his gaze, however.

“You know, I get bullied more than anyone on this team. I get constantly stabbed by Den, roasted about my height, volunteered into dangerous situations… and I still call them my friends! Because ribbing each other is what we do. We annoy each other, pester each other but at the end of the day, it’s all in good fun. Is the most healthy friendship? I don’t know, maybe not, but that is how we work. You can’t come in here, look at the surface and then have the fucking gall to decide for us whether or not we’re friends.”

“…Damn bro got a whole speech prepared.” Christian jumped in.

Ivan couldn’t help but laugh. “Shut the fuck up Christian.”

Den walked up to him, swinging an arm around him. “Dude, that was a full on anime speech, like I heard the word friends like five times in there.”

“Yeah, did you practice that in the mirror or some shit?”

And as they laughed, Curt smiled at them, pushing them aside and pointing his gun at Snee.

“Ivan’s right though. These are my friends because I choose them to be my friends, and we ain’t betraying each other. That’s why I’m choosing them.”

And Snee… narrowed his eyes.

“And yet… she betrayed you.”

Den frowned. “Are you talking about Kristine? Because that hurt, sure, but we’ve only known her for a short time.”

“No, I was talking about your other ‘friend’: Chilly Panda.”

Ivan’s blood suddenly ran cold. Den had mentioned something like this after the last SCP incident. How Chilly was found innocent… and left. No word to them. No visit. Nothing. She just… disappeared out of their lives.

“Yes, she was released, and she left without another word. Looks like you weren’t as amicable as you claimed to be.” Snee continued. “And if she left… was is to say another one of you—“

“She didn’t betray us!” Curt suddenly yelled, pulling Ivan and Den back behind him, glaring at Snee. “She wouldn’t and she never did!”

Snee glared back. “Cease your delusions! You haven’t heard from her ever since your encounter with SCP-096, what else could possibly be the reason for cutting you off?”

“BECAUSE YOU ALL KILLED HER!”

…What?

Ivan’s mind refused to work. Chilly… killed? No way, it couldn’t be. I-It couldn’t. It was Chilly, the loud, useless but funny girl that had been with them since forever, s-she couldn’t be…

But when he looked at Curt, who was trembling, small tears in the corner of his eyes, he knew it was the truth.

He looked back. Den and Christian were just as shocked, Den covering her mouth with her hands as Christian stared at them with wide eyes, something Ivan couldn’t remember seeing before.

“So you did find the file.” Snee said in a voice that was coated with ice and poison.

He then sighed, pulling out a radio from his pocket. “I truly meant it when I wished we could work together, Curtis. I truly saw potential in you. But unfortunately, you have gained too much information to leave this facility alive.”

Before they could do something, Snee started talking into his radio, what echoed in the hallways’ speakers.

“SCP-9475 has breached containment. I repeat, SCP-9475 has breached containment. SCP is to be neutralized at sight. I repeat, SCP—“

Den moved. She slammed into Snee’s stomach before he could react, knocking him down and knocking the pistol in his other hand away. She quickly grabbed it.

It also broke Curt out of his spell, as he started running. The rest of them quickly followed as warning sirens blared around them.

“Dude, can someone finally tell me what’s going on!?” Ivan yelled as they ran and ran. “Why are you so afraid of that guy? Is Chilly seriously dead? And what the fuck is SCP-9475? Shouldn’t we be careful of that thing?”

“Guys…” Curt briefly looked back at them.

“SCP-9475… is us.”

————

(Idc if SCP-9475 is a canon scp I’m making silly stuff for my sillies)

[foreverlogical]

Donald Trump, who led a seditious conspiracy against the United States government, has yet another new lawyer. If you're wondering what sort of person would agree to represent Donald Trump despite a history of Trump-allied lawyers going to prison, facing potential disbarment, never getting paid, and/or becoming national laughingstocks, meet Joe Tacopina. Tacopina's been doing his best to become an Important Television Lawyer, now that he's in Trump's employ. It hasn't been going well.

Actually, we're going to need to revise that. "Hasn't been going well" is when you hold a big important press conference and your hair dye starts dribbling down your head like your brain just blew a head gasket and it's going to be a very, very expensive repair. Tacopina's more a fan of the "What if I intentionally pierced the veil of my client's dodgy corporate shell company during a televised interview?" sort of Bad Day Haver.

CHUCK TODD: You keep saying it was personal funds. That was not what Michael Cohen pleaded guilty to. These were funds repaid by the Trump Org TACOPINA: That's personal TODD: So everything w/ the Trump Org is Trump's personal funds? You realize the door you're opening there?  pic.twitter.com/CiPJBNjQWs— Aaron Rupar (@atrupar) March 26, 2023

WHOOPS. BIG HUGE WHOOPS. One of the things you do not want to do, when you are defending your new client from many crimes and civil lawsuits and possible exorcisms or what have you, is stipulate on camera that the shell company your client hides his money in is actually his "personal funds," blowing up the distinction between the two and making it easy for litigants to scrape money out of both places instead of just one. That is a Lionel Hutz bad court thingy right there.

Even worse, imagine blowing up a significant part of your own defense in an interview with Chuck Todd. That's like being clubbed to death by a Teletubby.

Don't worry, Joe can fix this. He went to big-time lawyer school, he knows how to win back a jury.

TACOPINA: What was he supposed to put in his personal ledger? "Payment for hush money to quiet an affair that I claim I never had so my family doesn't get embarrassed"? CHUCK TODD: How about the truth? Shouldn't it be the truth?  pic.twitter.com/XGcWV0Y0J7— Aaron Rupar (@atrupar) March 26, 2023

Your honor, of course my client committed business fraud, which I have now explained is indistinguishable from personal fraud because it's the same set of books. It was either engaging in fraud or admitting he cheated on his pregnant wife with a porn star, and who among us has not yada yada whatever?

The weekend has not gone well for Trump in general. Here's a friendly legal tip: Just because Joe Tacopina wants to be on television doesn't mean Joe Tacopina should be on television. He's not great at it.

OMG I missed Al Sharpton destroying Joe Tacopina on MSNBC yesterday "What was the intent of the payment? ... if we were in court I would ask you to read back your statement. She came forward two weeks before the election, which meant you were reacting to the election!"  pic.twitter.com/hKbRIGTN1b— Aaron Rupar (@atrupar) March 26, 2023

Then there's the House Republican efforts to immunize Donald Trump from every last damn crime Donald Trump has ever done. There's no way to argue that without sounding stupid, but House Republicans have a whole bench of people for whom "sounding stupid" is their own personal art form.

JAKE TAPPER: Are you arguing that people who commit business crimes aren't committing crimes? COMER: We're talking about a federal election crime TAPPER: My understanding is that he's being investigated for falsifying business records (This interview did not go well for Comer)  pic.twitter.com/SuF8AaxkfG— Aaron Rupar (@atrupar) March 26, 2023

Rep. James Comer ought to try out being Trump's lawyer for a month or two. He can't possibly do worse than any of the others.

[dragonmarquise]

I had a small idea pop into my head, which crew would be best at taking care of a living thing?(Human, plant, animal) If you ask me, I feel like dot.exe would be awesome! Especially with the two old people on their team!

Ooo, a neat idea! I think overall it would be the Franks since I already imagine all of them having health/medical related day jobs, and being very good at said jobs.

With other crews it's more different on a individual basis, at least based on my headcanons. A few things were mentioned on my big DOT EXE post, but can’t hurt to go over those bits again here.

(Also! I meant to post this yesterday but had some weirdly severe computer problems last night, sorry e_e; )

Starting off with DOT EXE since I probably have a bit more to say about them together than the other characters separately. Again, some of this is already mentioned in the Big DE Post, but will be brought up again here with more details:

Jūrō (the 10-ball member of DOT EXE in my headcanons) does gardening as a hobby! There’s a community greenhouse on top of the mall that he helps out with a lot. Heck, he’s practically the manager of it at this point. The other DOT EXE members help him out sometimes, mostly Cinco (5-ball), Neun (9-ball), and Quatorze (14-ball).

Jūrō, Quatorze, and Cinco are all great with kids! The grandpa, grandma, and uncle respectively who spoil the children, lol. Quatorze and Jūrō have grandkids, but haven’t seen them since being cut off by their own kids due to going full-cyber (see the big DOT EXE post for more details on why exactly. Meanwhile, Cinco was effectively ex-communicated by most of the family once it came out that he was going full-cyber, though he’s still in contact with some of his nieces and nephews in secret.

Cueball loves cats but wasn’t able to keep any before going full-cyber due to allergies. As mentioned in the Big Post, at one point he started hoarding cats before the rest of DOT EXE staged an intervention and got the cats into good shelters and homes. Cueball now volunteers at a lot of those shelters instead.

Okay now headcanon mixed with shipping: If Cueball and Bō (blond Devil Theory OC of mine) get to move in together, Cueball manages to convince him that they should adopt some cats! Cueball at first was aiming for 7, but gets (thankfully) talking down to just 3. They're all black cat siblings, named Pumpkin, Sapphire, and Clover (named for the color of their eyes: orange, blue, and green respectively).

And now for other characters:

As mentioned on my Solace post, he doesn’t have any pets but likes to feed any cats and birds he comes across. An addition to that: If he finds a cat or bird that’s hurt, he takes it to a vet to be properly taken care of. Mostly because Solace feels he’s too clumsy to give first aid to an animal, no matter how careful he is.

I feel like at least one of the Franks has a dog, I just haven’t decided which one. Maybe Bill (the spring palette, also the one who joins BRC in my headcanons). Takes good care of the good boy! The dog is probably a doberman-ish dog like the NPCs dogs in the game seem to be. Also the dog is named Hook. It’s in reference to the basketball throw known as a hook shot. :P

And then like I said earlier, the Franks in general have jobs related to medical/health stuff. Just haven’t decided which member has which job, whoops. But anyways, they’re all good at what they do! The jobs in question: physical therapist, aide at a senior home, nurse at a small clinic, physical education teacher/coach for a school basketball team.

Nunchaku (Devil Theory OC for the summer palette) has always wanted something like a tarantula or a snake as a pet. More shipping plus headcanons here: Once she moves in with Vinyl, they do get the tarantula and snake! Named Rosemary and Lavender respectively. Also a centipede named Paprika and two geckos named Cinnamon and Nutmeg. They are all very happy and healthy, though Bō politely refuses to visit their apartment because of Rosemary and Paprika, while DJ Cyber refuses to visit because of the reptiles, lol

On that note! DJ Cyber is a big fan of bugs, but not so much reptiles. He’s had many beetles as pets (they live for about a year or half a year at most, from what I understand). His current one is a Hercules beetle… named Hercules. He isn’t exactly the best at coming up with names obviously. :P But yeah, takes good care of his pets and will ramble about insect facts if you let him!

Bel had a pet rabbit as a kid they she took really good care of! She wants to get another one as an adult, but doesn’t like the idea of leaving it alone in her apartment for long periods while she’s out and about. Besides leaving the poor thing lonely, she’s also afraid of it being an escape artist like her old pet was.

Almost forgot from my big Devil Theory post, they have two hermit crabs as team pets in their hideout! I didn’t mention it there, but they are named Saburo and Jiro, after the crab monsters from Okami. Visitors to DT’s hideout get a chance to paint a shell for the crabs to pick later. Obviously it’s a great honor to get your shell picked!!

Cassiopeia (leader of Eclipse, the winter palette) has an Abyssian cat named Bastet, who likes to creep people out by staring at them for uncomfortably long periods of time. Has a habit of stealing charms and keychains from people’s phones, bags, bracelets, etc. Bastet hangs out in Cassiopeia’s shop while she’s working, or otherwise in her apartment above the shop while she’s out. Bastet has her own room btw! Also she refuses to let anyone but Cassiopeia pet her (Cueball has learned this the hard way. Several times, lol)

Cassiopeia also has a whole rooftop garden full of plants she uses for the herbs and spices she sells in part of her store. Part of the garden is also a personal vegetable and berry garden for herself (occasionally gifting some of the food she doesn’t need to the other Eclipse members). The plants are surprisingly big, not to mention the quality of the herbs and food are amazing! Some people try to ask her what’s her secret with gardening, but she refuses to tell anyone outside of the other Eclipse members.

Quantum (winter palette for FUTURISM) has attempted to care for pets over the years, but hasn’t been very good at it. Mostly she just gets overwhelmed with caring for another living being while busy with school/work/etc. On the bright side, she makes sure to get the animals to better homes or at least a shelter instead of trying to insist she can handle it. At this point, the closest thing she has to a pet is a rubber duck she named Niels, who helps her via rubber duck debugging!

I think that’s about all I have for caring-for-living-things headcanons. This was a neat one to go over! :>

[stitching-in-time]

Voyager rewatch s2 ep24: Tuvix

Yet another epsiode I dreaded having to watch- what is this, the twelfth time this season? This season's batting average isn't great, to say the least. This particular episode is one I especially dislike because a lot of the fandom discourse around it is pretty obnoxious. But even before I was aware of the fandom, I didn't care for this one.

It starts out with Neelix being jerky to Tuvok on an away mission- Neelix, for some reason, can't stand that Tuvok thinks or feels differently from him, so he makes it his business to badger Tuvok into behaving how he wants him to. I know this intro was meant to set them up as being so opposite to make them being mixed up into one person cute or funny, but honestly it just makes me dislike Neelix. Tuvok wasn't being mean or rude, but Neelix would not listen to Tuvok's stated desire to focus on the mission and not talk about his feelings. Neelix never respects Tuvok's culture or personal boundaries, and it's not cute or funny, and it makes it really hard to sympathize with him. And it goes on this way for the whole series. The way Neelix treats Kes is bad enough, but he treats Tuvok badly too, so at this point I can't just wave it away as occasional bad writing- it's a consistent character trait that Neelix treats the people he loves or wants most with complete disrespect. And it does taint whatever nice moments they give his character elsewhere, for me. But Neelix isn't in this one for long, because there's a transporter accident! Whoops, Neelix and Tuvok are fused into one person! And, though it seems impossible, he's even more annoying than Neelix himself!

For starters, Tuvix looks like a creepy evil elf creature with those red contacts. Secondly, I'm scratching my head and laughing over how someone thought that if you molecularly mix clothing with an abstract print and a solid color, you get a floral print, lol. Sorry, but prints on fabric do not occur at a molecular level. It’s a cute design choice, but more suited to a magic spell than a transporter accident.

And then we get to Tuvix himself, who is so arrogant, selfish, and obnoxious that Neelix was actually preferable. And the way he went after Kes was so skeevy! Her boyfriend basically died yesterday, and Tuvix is like 'who cares, let me just pick up where Neelix left off!' even though she's clearly distressed, and he's a stranger to her. And when he’s like ‘sure I love my wife T'Pel, but I still wanna date you!' it was like eww!!! Gag!!! Tuvok would NEVER do that, EVER. Nobody who is even half Tuvok would do that, and honestly, even though Neelix can be an asshole sometimes, even he wouldn’t be THAT insensitive. Ew. And when she asked him to leave, though she's clearly uncomfortable, he's still standing there trying to convince her! And then he has the gall to go in for a kiss! Eww! I was grateful it was only a cheek kiss, but still, what a creeper!!!

The only thing I liked in this episode was Janeway and Kes having their little mother-daughter heart to heart chat, and finding out Janeway was reading Tuvok's old letters because she missed him. Brb sobbing!!

Also, does no one in Starfleet know how to cook?? Really?? All those grown ass adults couldn't handle cooking for themselves without Neelix there?? And they call millenials helpless! (Though apparently Tom and Harry knew how to cook, because they were sitting at a table already eating while everyone else was flailing around- they may be Voyager's pretty boy squad, but at least they have some life skills to fall back on lol)

I know people love to slam Janeway for ordering Tuvix to separate back into Tuvok and Neelix, but she made the best decision she could from every standpoint, given that in universe, it was a no win situation, and from a Doylist standpoint, she had no other option but to choose Tuvok and Neelix.

In universe, she had to think of her crew and their mission, and Tuvok and Neelix were more useful separately than as Tuvix. Starfleet captains order officers to their death all the time in the name of their mission. It's part of the job, and Tuvix, being half Tuvok, would have understood that. I honestly don't think Tuvix would have lacked the selflessness to choose to save Tuvok and Neelix at the expense of his own life, since neither of them would have protested sacrificing themselves to save others.

Secondly, Tuvix did have to use their bodies and minds to survive- who's to say his right to live was greater than theirs?

Thirdly, Tuvok was her best friend- who the hell isn't going to do whatever they can to get their best friend back? Tuvix himself seemed cool with killing Tuvok and Neelix to stay alive. He insisted they lived on in him, in a way, so their deaths were no big deal. If it's truly no big deal to kill them, like he says, why is it a big deal for him? Why should he have a problem living on, in a way, in them? Him making a fuss that they're killing him to bring Tuvok and Neelix back is in itself a tacit acknowledgement that he's killing them to survive- and he expects that all these people are gonna let him kill two of their friends to keep him there?? Please. If it had been Kirk having to kill some unholy combination of Spock and Chekov to get Spock back, he would have, no hesitation, and no one would blame him, or call him a murderer for separating 'Spockov' back into two people. He's a man, so people accept that men in leadership positions have to make tough choices, and can't always be nice, far more than they do for women. It's crappy to give your main character a no-win scenario that will make them look mean or callous no matter what they choose, but it's worse when it's the first female lead, who will get less leeway from viewers just by virtue of being a woman.

But fourthly, and most importantly, whatever one might consider the morally correct choice to have been, keeping Tuvix would have been a terrible story choice. I mean, Tuvix was annoying and a jerk??? Literally who would want this guy around forever??? He has all of the two characters bad qualities, and none of the good ones that make them interesting, so that honestly would have sucked to be stuck with him for how many goddamn seasons, sorry. What do the people who criticize Janeway for her decision want- should they have actually fired two actors, and written their characters out for good?? No thank you! I don’t like Tuvix, so too bad! Welcome back Tuvok and Neelix, because I like them better!! It's a show!! It’s all fiction!!! I want to spend time with the characters who are my friends on the little space ship on the tv screen, so Tuvix gets to die!! Honestly they couldn't kill him fast enough!! Sorry not sorry!!!

And at the end, the focus was on Janeway and how she had to steel herself to do this thing she found difficult and distateful, and there was no pay off of Tuvok and Neelix saying 'thanks, you made the right decision!' to soften how awful what she had to do was. We don't even know if Tuvok of Neelix remember being Tuvix, for all that! Both of them seem pretty unfazed by having been another person, 'dying' and coming back as themselves- but like, they shared a mind! Do they understand each other better now? Couldn't this have been a gateway to the both of them agreeing to have a more respectful and less adversarial relationship from now on? It should have, but it was totally glossed over and never brought up again! Why even bother to do this episode if it ended up having no effect on anyone, except to make the fandom whine about how mean Janeway is??

Tl;dr: An attempt at raising an ethical conundrum that ultimately failed, because the writers painted themselves into a corner- they created a character that had to die no matter what, so every point they tried to make was moot from the start.