#I only have one pan so had to do over two batches

[so-much-for-subtlety]

I’m making Julia Louis-Dreyfus’s carrot cake!

[science-hoes]

Daylight: Month Two

Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical medical descriptions, mentions of child loss, Robby’s arm tats

Chapters: Month One, Month Two, Month Three, Month Four

Description: Robby and the reader enjoy domestic bliss and the annoyances of pregnancy, but a patient case that hits close to home wedges between them.

—————

The thick smell of bacon lured you awake before your alarm clock ever went off. When you opened your eyes, darkness still blanketed the bedroom. No crack of light stretching between the blackout curtains just yet. Only the illumination of the alarm clock on Robby’s side of the bed gave you an indication of the time. 4:18am.

You already knew Robby was out of bed aside from the obvious aroma and sounds coming from the kitchen. He usually had you tucked into his side, your head resting on his shoulder, his arm snug around your waist. His absence left you feeling incomplete…but you had the whole bed to yourself. You sprawled your limbs out across the mattress, mirroring a starfish. Your eyes fell heavy again, content with a smile, ready to sleep for two more hours before your alarm.

But the bacon smelled so good.

Like a zombie, possessed by an unknown virus, you sat up in bed. Your legs swung off the mattress, not even taking a moment to stretch. Before you could evaluate the pros and cons of abandoning the empty bed that you rarely get to have to yourself, your feet padded across the wooden floor, shuffling until they hit the cold tile of the kitchen. Damn. The baby must really want some bacon.

In the low glow of the light above the stove, Robby was searing the final batch of bacon on a sizzling pan. Dressed in only gray sweatpants with his glasses perched on the sharp bridge of his nose. Black ink slithered around his biceps, Memento Mori and Amor Fati, his constant reminders of the fragility of life. His hands worked diligently, ridges of veins and tendons competing against each other as he flipped over the strips of bacon with a regular fork.

A splatter of burning fat made a beeline for his broad chest, landing on the bare skin.

“Ah, fuck.” He hissed, recoiling at the brand it made on his flesh.

You giggled, alerting him of your presence. “You know, you’re a hypocrite.” You teased.

Robby raised an eyebrow but smiled nonetheless at your presence. “How’s that?” He asked.

“Always grumbling about patients who put themselves in ridiculous situations that get them hurt.” You explained, then gestured towards him. “Yet here you are, cooking bacon with a fork and no shirt.”

Your boyfriend chuckled, returning his focus back to the crisping strips of meat in front of him. “Do as I say, not as I do.” He defended.

You walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, your hands clasping on his warm, toned abdomen. You peppered kisses on his back, catching the freckles with your lips. “Why are you up so early?” You asked.

Robby let out an exasperated sigh, already feeling the weight of his shift on his shoulders. “Quarterly chiefs meeting at six.” He answered.

Your cheek pressed against his spine as you moved your hands to his waist, massaging the skin there. “Couldn’t be a Zoom meeting?”

He chuckled insincerely. “Oh, no. Gloria likes to do her berating in person.” He said as he began to fish out the perfectly crispy strips and place them on the plate next to the stove.

“Humiliation kink?”

“I think it’s more of a voyeurism thing.”

Shared laughter filled the air, the most familiar sound of the kitchen in your home aside from the Eagles on vinyl and medical news podcasts.

Robby clicked off the stove after removing the final piece of bacon from the pan. “You know, I’m still not on board with the whole bacon thing.” He mumbled.

You shrugged, snatching a piece from the plate and taking a bite. “It’s only a problem if you undercook it. Did you?” You teased.

Just like the day you found out you were pregnant, he gave you an offended look. “Of course not. I don’t undercook my food. Ever.” He jabbed a finger softly at your shoulder.

“Besides. It’s what the baby wants. Not me. Who am I to say no?” You added.

Robby peered over his glasses to look you in the eyes. Gosh, you loved that stern, sexy professor glare he always gave you. “The baby should want eggs instead. Safer and good source of protein.” He lectured and pointed over to the plate of yellow fluff on the other counter that he made before you woke up.

Once you made eye contact with the scrambled eggs and its smell connected with your olfactory nerve, your mouth watered mid-bacon crunch, and not in the good way. Immediately, you sprinted to the bathroom, making it just in time to puke your guts out. Robby wasn’t far behind, and he pulled your hair out of your face as your body reeled from the very smell of eggs. It didn’t last for long, just a few seconds, and when the nausea subsided, you slouched back into his embrace.

“See. The baby is in charge.” You said with a small giggle, wiping the corner of your mouth with the sleeve of your (Robby’s) sweatshirt that you slept in.

Robby pressed a kiss to the back of your head, cradling you in his lap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was as stubborn as his mom.” He teased, throwing in his guess at the baby’s gender.

You scoffed, reaching behind you to poke his stomach, making him flinch at the ticklish sensation. “She’s as stubborn as her dad.” You corrected, slating your guess as well.

He held you in his embrace for another moment before tilting your head to look up at him. His glasses were askew now, hair still in disarray from sleep. He traced his thumb across your cheek, wiping away a tear that formed while you threw up. “Are you gonna be okay to go to work by yourself?” He asked.

Your natural reaction would have been to roll your eyes at your boyfriend’s silly question. Of course you could get to work by yourself. You managed to do it every day before moving in with him several months ago. The drive was short, the parking garage was safe. Safe-ish anyway. But you could see the worry in his eyes. The same look he gave you every time that he knew he wasn’t going to be there to protect you. That look had been more frequent over the last month. But this was the first morning that he couldn’t take you to work with him.

You tilted your head into his touch, letting his hand hold your weight. “I’ll be fine. I’ll text when I leave here.” You promised.

“And when you get there.” He added.

A small laugh left your chest through your nose. “You’ll see me when I’m there.” You reminded him.

Robby pressed his bottom lip tightly against his top lip, his characteristic expression of stress. “I know. I just…if I’m with a patient. I want to know exactly when you’re safely inside.” He explained.

You wanted to joke that there was hardly a difference in crime rate between the inside and outside of the Pitt. But his eyes, fuck, those gorgeous, earthy brown eyes were a stargate to his vulnerability. Instead, you nodded. “Okay, I will.”

The laugh lines around his eyes deepened as his cheeks rose with a smile. “Thank you.” He said before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, his glasses bumping against your nasal bone as he did.

You scrunched your nose as you smiled into the kiss. “I just threw up. You still wanna kiss me?” You asked.

Robby chuckled and secured you tightly in his arms before standing up, eliciting snaps, crackles, and pops from his ancient joints. But he still moved with ease and strength as he carried you back to bed. “Unfortunately, my love, your vomit is not the worst thing to ever get in my mouth.” He replied.

You laughed as he delicately deposited your body onto the soft mattress. “Gross.” You deadpanned, snuggling back under the covers.

He sat on the edge of the bed, arranging the blankets to cocoon your frame. “When you’ve been an ER doc for twenty years, then you can come talk to me.” He warned, leaning over to give you one last kiss before rising.

You smirked as he turned to walk away. “Yeah, I’ll make sure to stop by your grave that day and tell you all about it.”

Robby stopped in his tracks, stunned, then he hunched over with an explosion of laughter. He turned and launched onto the bed, tackling you, carefully all the while, and pressed a scratchy kiss on your cheek. “Oh, I’ll be here for another twenty five years. Can’t get rid of me that easy.” Another kiss to your giggling mouth. “I’m gonna die in the Pitt anyway.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and your cheeks ached from smiling and his bearded kisses. “I thought you and Jack were gonna hold hands and jump off the roof together.” You teased.

Robby nodded. “Yep, that’s the plan.” He agreed.

“Then you’ll die in front of the Pitt. Not in the Pitt.”

An eye roll. “Grammar police.”

A smirk. “Actually, it’s semantics police.”

He rolled off your body and hopped off the bed. “Okay, that’s enough of you for one morning.” He joked, but turned as he made it to the doorway. “I’ll make you a smoothie and put it in the fridge to grab before you leave. Prenatal vitamins will be on the counter with a water bottle. And I’ll handle the eggs.” He said.

You craned your neck towards the door to catch a glimpse of his silhouette framed by the distant light of the kitchen. “You’re doing so much for me. I don’t know how to ever repay you.” You mused out loud.

Although you couldn’t see it in the darkness, you knew Robby smiled. “You’re giving me a baby. I’m forever indebted to you.” He countered. “Get some rest. Enjoy having the whole bed to yourself.” You could practically hear him wink before he walked back to the kitchen.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you closed your eyes. You felt so loved, so happy, so…at peace.

…

The peace didn’t last for long. You had texted Robby the moment you walked through the doors of the Pitt, just like you promised. But you received no confirmation that he received it. He had been elbows deep in a gunshot victim from the moment he stepped out of that quarterly meeting. You could see him towering over the other providers in Trauma One, commanding the room with a respected power.

You leaned against one of the Hub desks, looking toward Dana. “They need any help in there?” You asked.

Dana shook her head, desk phone against her ear. “No, we’ll need you out here. MVC, pregnant woman coming in. They think she’s preeclampsic and in active labor.” She answered. “We’ll need Trauma Two.”

You nodded and hustled to the ambulance bay, snatching a yellow gown on your way. McKay met you outside and tied the back of your gown, then you tied hers. “Preeclampsia is some scary shit.” She murmured. “Happened to me with Harrison.”

“Is she full term?” You questioned, moving your ponytail out from the neck of the gown where it had been tucked in.

“They didn’t say. I already paged NICU.”

The sound of sirens loomed closer, and the rig turned the corner, thundering towards the bay. A swarm of more nurses and residents appeared to help unload the patient. Blood covered her hands and legs, and one arm draped over her swollen abdomen, bent out of shape.

As you moved along the gurney, heeding the less-than-stellar vitals being screamed in your ear, the woman reached out to you in the chaos.

“Please, save my baby. Please.” The woman on the gurney begged you, clutching your yellow gown with her bloodied hand, leaving its mark on the sheer material.

You didn’t know why she said it to you. Maybe because you were a woman. Maybe because you were around her age. Maybe she had a sixth sense and knew you were pregnant, too. A few months ago, you wouldn’t have given much thought to her words and proceeded with the most logical treatment. But the desperation in her voice struck a chord with you.

You followed the team into Trauma Two, and within seconds, Robby popped in from the adjacent room. McKay read out her vitals, and you placed the fetal heart monitor over her belly. Medicines were ordered to fix the blood pressure and stop the labor, but nothing seemed to work. The fetal heart rate was dropping, the woman began to have intense vaginal bleeding. Placental abruption was taking its course. Finally, a cold statement cut through the madness that sent you into a spiral:

“Start putting efforts towards the mother. She’s got a better chance.” The order came from Robby’s mouth.

You froze and stared at him. “No, she said she wants to save her baby.” You said.

Robby’s eyes met yours for just a moment, an indecipherable flicker in them, before continuing to work with his hands to stop the bleeding. “Her mental state was altered, she can’t make that decision.” He replied firmly.

In an incredibly rare stroke of defiance, you countered with: “Did you do a neuro eval?” Robby didn’t look at you and didn’t stop working. No answer. “No? That’s what I thought.”

Robby barked orders for more units of blood. The beeping of the fetal monitor began to drop lower and lower. “You need to back down. You are the resident.” He hissed.

The tension in the room was heavy, every other nurse and doctor eyeing each other as they all worked in tandem to stabilize the patient from Robby’s instruction. “She expressed her wishes to me. She told me what she wanted. She had the capacity to make the decision, and her autonomy should be-“ You continued.

But Robby cut you off with, “I don’t need a fucking lecture in bioethics. We are going to save who we can. This is not a cadaver lab. If you do not follow my explicit instructions, you will be reprimanded.”

His words had a sharpness that cut you deep. He had never used that tone with you before, especially in front of others. McKay finally stepped in between the two of you, hoping to get you a few steps away from each other. You decided to yield to his power, but there was an unmistakable sense of loss as the baby’s heartbeat dropped lower.

And lower.

And lower.

Until there was nothing.

…

After the patient stabilized and was sent upstairs for surgery, Robby took the woman’s husband to the family room and explained the situation. You shucked your PPE off and went to get a drink of water from the lounge.

Guilt hung in your chest as you remembered the woman’s plea before she lost consciousness. She was going to wake up without her baby. The nursery had likely been finished, the first round of toys and diapers stacked in a corner, blankets with a monogrammed name hanging over the crib.

Angry tears dripped down your cheeks. You heard the door of the family room close, muffled by the quiet of the doctors lounge. You watched through the small window and saw Robby rub the back of his neck anxiously. His eyes scanned the entire department, and they finally settled at the sight of you through the window. Your breath hitched, and suddenly you were a baby deer in the path of a lion.

Robby walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. You stood, shaking your head. “We’re not doing this right now.” You said.

He crossed his arms, blocking your path to the door. “Oh, yes ma’am, we are.” His voice was patronizing, and his eyes had a darkness to them that you didn’t recognize. “That little show in there? That won’t fly.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, taking a step closer to him. “‘That little show’ was advocating for the patient’s wishes. Same as a DNR.” You argued.

Robby huffed, almost a laugh. “A DNR is an official document made when a patient has the capacity to do so. That patient, who clearly did not have the mental capacity to make decisions, told only you. And even so, the baby was crashing too fast to even try and deliver.” He explained.

You felt more tears storm down your face. “She is going wake up without her baby.” You hissed.

He pulled his lips into a thin line. “Yes. But at least she is going to wake up.” He replied.

He just didn’t get it. If you had stayed any longer, you were going to start screaming words that you’d regret. You pushed past him and walked out of the lounge, swiping your tears away with the palm of your hand.

…

For the rest of the day, Robby tried to get you alone, but you turned your back to him and jumped into a patient case every time. It was only when the night shift began to trickle in that he was successful in cornering you.

“Are you ready to go home?” He asked, calm and collected like nothing happened.

You nodded. “Yeah. I’ll follow you.” You replied, reminding him that you drove separately.

After collecting your things from the lounge, you both headed to the parking garage. Even though the walk was silent, Robby kept a protective hand on your lower back as you crossed the street and again when you climbed the concrete stairs. You followed his navy Ford F150 all the way back to your home, refusing to turn the music on. You felt like you didn’t deserve the distraction.

Once home, you began to tidy the house. Doing anything to keep your mind and hands busy. Robby recognized it immediately. Although it wasn’t a harmful anxiety escape, he didn’t want you losing your mind. Without a word, he went back out to the garage, disappearing for a few moments and returned. He sat on the couch, watching you wipe down the coffee table.

“Will you sit down with me for a second?” He asked.

You didn’t look up. “I need to clean up.” You responded in a tone that would make a robot jealous.

Robby sighed and reached his hand out to grasp your forearm. “Please, love.” He begged.

You stopped moving. Still refusing to meet his gaze, you placed the microfiber towel down and moved toward him. He guided you into his lap, pressing your back against his chest. His breathing was warm on the nape of your neck as he laid his head to rest on your shoulder.

“I was scared today.” He whispered. “That woman. She’s the same age as you. She was pregnant. All I could see was you. Even though you were standing there next to me. I couldn’t separate you from her.”

You turned your head, pushing his head off your shoulder with your nose, so that you could look him in the eyes. “Scared?” You questioned.

“I was scared I couldn’t protect you. Scared I couldn’t protect our baby.” He said, and you could hear his voice tremble as he fought back tears. “Fuck, I still am scared. Her husband, he…he cried so much. Even when I told her that she was okay, he couldn’t stop saying how he should’ve been there to keep her and the baby safe…”

Robby’s face was burning red, and a single tear fell from his eyes. You reached up to place your hands on either side of his face. “Michael…” You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Honey, you did everything right. I was wrong to challenge you like that. It got personal for me.” You confessed.

He shook his head, clenching his eyes shut as more tears fell. “You were a good patient advocate. I was being selfish. Maybe we could have saved the baby. I don’t know.”

You pressed your forehead against his, trying to ground him. “Don’t do that to yourself. You made the right judgement call, even considering the bioethics. If you’d listened to me, they would have both died.” You replied.

Robby didn’t make another attempt. He just sat in silence as his tears dried, holding you close to him. One of his large hands rubbed your belly, the baby bump still unnoticeable. “I love you.” He whispered. The words were not a punctuation to the hours-long argument. They were a sacred prayer.

You leaned into his embrace, nestling against the warmth his body radiated. “I love you more.” You replied, a small smile on your lips, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist topping your answer.

Like a moth to a flame, he matched your mild smile and answered with, “I love you most.” Then he shifted, reaching his hand into the pocket of his navy hoodie.

You shook your head, brushing your nose against his in an Inuit kiss. “Can’t prove it.” You teased.

Robby removed his hand from his pocket and raised it near your face. A sparkle caught your eye, and you leaned away to inspect it. In his hand was a ring. Simple gold band with a large, oval cut diamond. “Wanna bet?” He said, the slyest smirk on his lips.

You couldn’t find the words to speak. Butterflies filled your stomach, surely invading your baby’s personal space. His name left your lips in a whisper.

“We live together. We’re having a baby. Might as well make it legally official.” He said.

“Michael, I-” Your voice trembled. “I want to. I really do. But I don’t want you to feel compelled to do this because of the baby. If you aren’t ready for this, then you don’t have to rush it.”

Robby chuckled, shaking his head. “This has been in my toolbox in the garage for four months.”

A small, hopeful smile found its way to your lips. “Really?” You breathed.

“I was waiting for our anniversary. But today, after everything that happened…I knew I couldn’t wait any longer.” He explained.

The pure joy bubbling in your chest stunned you into silence. Robby reached to his neck, starting to rub his nape anxiously. “I know I probably should have made it a little nicer. I could’ve changed out of scrubs first, maybe shower-”

His rambling was silenced when you threw your arms around his neck, squeezing tightly. He laughed and returned the gesture, standing up straight, your feet dangling in the air as he held you in his embrace.

“It’s perfect.” You whispered. “It’s us.”

Robby pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow. “So that’s a yes?”

“It’s a ‘fucking finally’ yes.” You answered.

[alchemistc]

Tommy ignores the knock at his door. He's in day three pajamas and the only person who might make the effort to check in on him is his exes best friend. Which.

The knocking continues.

It's getting louder.

There's a Kings game on in the background and he's been elbow deep in the Jeep manual he'd finally cracked open in some sort of weird, fucked up pattern of mourning.

Tommy's never gonna buy a fucking Jeep. He hates them. You own one for more than five years and more than half the parts are replacement parts.

He's been staring at a diagram of the timing belt for half an hour, at least. The last thing he remembers about the game is Kuemper letting in three goals on five shots and somehow the Kings are up two, now, and there's still 25 minutes of game time left.

Tommy reaches for the remote. Turns the volume up.

The knocking returns less than a minute later.

---

There's a box of odds and ends tucked under the table in his entryway. He avoids looking at it. He knows there are a few things missing from it and he really doesn't want to examine what he'll have to do to avoid giving it to Eddie tonight. He cut the cords, he shouldn't be lingering watching the frayed edges sway in the wind, clutching his line like there's anything braced on the other side of it.

Evan's oldest, softest LAFD hoodie, the one that's technically too small for both of them but has stretched shockingly evenly and is definitely not sitting unwashed at the bottom of Tommy's laundry basket. The program from a recital of Denny's they'd stopped by to support him for, on their way out of town for a long weekend. Evan's stupid keto bread and the milk frother he'd left behind three months ago and never bothered to grab because he had more than one.

Whoever is at his door is still fucking knocking, and suddenly Tommy doesn't feel like being polite. He'll shove the box in Eddie's arms and tell him to fuck off and close the last few remaining open doors he has to this.

Only when he swings the door wide it's not Eddie on the other side, and the box nearly takes out whatever Evan - Buck, Jesus Christ - has in his own arms.

Not a Tommy box - too small for all the shit that he'd left behind. He misses the house slippers that had had a permanent spot tucked under the left side of the bed.

Tommy flinches, reels away, tries to shove the box away before Buck can see its contents.

"What are you doing here?" Even tone. No quiver in his voice. He's been called rude and dismissive for less.

Buck scowls. Hefts the rectangular dish in his hands and shoves past Tommy before Tommy can blink.

It's silly to say he chases after him, down the hallway towards the kitchen, but he's not exactly following along behind at a casual leisurely pace.

The glass pan slams down on his kitchen counter and Buck spends a minute staring at the calendar he was only getting two months out of because he couldn't look at the one with all Buck's notes penned in anymore.

"Wow," Buck says, and shifts his weight awkwardly.

"What are you -?"

"Jee and I made you birthday cupcakes," Buck says. His voice is hard. Angry. Hurt. "Happy birthday, asshole."

---

He cracks the lid and there are only three cupcakes inside. Tommy forgets himself. Raises a brow, amusement rolling over him pleasantly, prepared to tease him, but then he catches the set of Buck's legs and the curl of his mouth and the tight way his arm tucks itself back in against his belly, a protective gesture that reminds Tommy very effectively what this is.

"Why?" Tommy wonders aloud, and Evan's scowl deepens.

Buck's scowl.

God.

"We've been planning it for weeks." Something flashes across his eyes before he schools his features. "Jee made me promise to bring you some."

"She must not be a skilled baker," Tommy jokes. "If these are the only ones that made it."

Evan's expression twists. "I ate most of them."

The frosting looks fresh. No creases in the paper cup holding them together.

"I had to make a new batch of frosting because I used some of it for -." He cuts himself off. Looks like he'd like to throw it in Tommy's face but can't quite force himself to hurt Tommy.

It hurts as much as he'd expected, anyway.

The world is a small place. It's not the first time he's had to speak to an ex when he didn't want to. It's never pleasant.

This is worse. The cut and run is supposed to give him time.

Evan Buckley has been an ache behind his ribcage for months, now, long before he'd made that final decision. He'd known it was too little too late. Buck's gonna be the shadow other men see behind his eyes for years.

Buck's apparently found and slept with someone within the week and a half span from Tommy walking out to his sad shitty mopey birthday.

That he'd forgotten about.

Tommy leans in. Picks up a cupcake. Licks a stripe through the frosting and makes a face when he realizes it's buttercream.

"The ones you were supposed to get had the whipped cream one you like," Buck says, accusingly.

That somehow stings just a little bit extra.

Tommy pulls back the paper, takes a bite. There's raspberry filling inside, and Tommy can feel tears prickling at the edges of his eyes, because when he'd told Evan about how his grandma baked he'd been thinking of Evan being a grandparent, the kind of shit he'd forbidden himself from imagining with anyone he was dating years ago.

"Thank you," he manages, and Buck frowns.

"He thought the whipped cream was too sweet." And Tommy probably deserves this but he's not particularly in the mood.

"Cut it out, Buck."

Buck rolls his jaw. "I just figured you'd wanna know how it's going. Maybe I could tally up the hookups for you, count them all up by gender and stamina and opinions on how I should feel and act and fall for someone. Find out if I'm actually gay enough to be a man's last."

---

The rest of the cupcake kind of collapses and oozes as Tommy smacks it down on the counter. He takes thirty seconds to pull the other two cupcakes out before he's grabbing the too-large fake Pyrex and turning heel. The keto bread goes in the pan. Then the milk frother.

Tommy yanks the recital program off the fridge and tosses it in the trash.

Buck almost looks triumphant.

"The box under the side table has the rest. You can see yourself out."

He actually does exactly as he's told, and Tommy listens to his footsteps drift off, shoulders hunched in and the breath tight in his throat. He'd been cruel, it was only fair Buck got a few final kicks in.

Tommy sucks in a breath and blinks away the moisture at the edges of his vision.

The footsteps take a heel turn at the side table and turn right back around.

"This isn't everything."

Tommy half expects some panned comment about how Tommy's got his heart - the kind of silly shit he'd say to a dead outlaw.

"My sweatshirt," Buck says, and Tommy freezes.

He could lie. He could pretend he had no idea where it was. Claim he didn't remember it even being here, because that particular piece of clothing did have a tendency to travel.

He doesn't fucking want to hand that one over.

Buck smirks, like he's caught the crack, and is looking for ways to exploit it.

"I own my own house!" Tommy says, and it's a terrible launching point but Buck latches on.

"You just left, Tommy! I know I jumped the gun, Tommy, but you didn't even - you just left! I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry I didn't know I was into men until you. I'm sorry you had to be my first, I'm sure that must have been such a burden for you."

"That's not fair."

"You didn't even give me a chance. That was - I'm so angry with you, Tommy. I'm so fucking mad."

"I know."

"But that's what you planned for, right? That's - you ripped the bandaid, Tommy, except there's a whole fucking untreated stab wound right underneath and it's still bleeding, Tommy."

"Did you even make this round of cupcakes with your niece?" It's better to keep his family's names out of his mouth. Just keep those ties cut.

Buck looks livid. "No, you idiot, I whipped up a tiny batch of this recipe just for the excuse to see you and - and tell you what a stupid, awful coward you are."

"That's not f-." He isn't sure whether Buck is being facetious about the small batch thing or not. He doesn't have any time to think about it.

"My sister and Chim are having another baby. Bobby and Athena are probably gonna host Christmas this year. Eddie shaved off the mustache and he's, like, dancing now, I guess. Hen and Karen are good for the first time in -." He shakes his head. Stares at Tommy. Tommy can't quite hide from that gaze. "We were good, Tommy. We were - you loved me."

He'd never said the words. Neither had Evan, but they'd both known. Both felt it. Tommy let it go too far, did it scared for longer than he usually would.

"It's not like that just went away when I walked out, Evan," Tommy hisses, and then regrets it immediately.

Evan has spent most of this visit pushing, pressing, digging fingers into the wound to make it hurt.

Evan goes silent now, reeling back a little. He seems shocked that Tommy had admitted it.

"I want you to go," Tommy says. "I need you to go, Buck."

It was the right dagger the first time, but apparently it's only effective once.

"I love you too, you know." His voice is soft. Tommy can't meet his eye. "And I hate you. I hate you even though I know that's what you wanted but I love you too much to not hate you out of spite."

Tommy knows if he caves it's done. He's signing himself over to whatever fucked thing will end them a week, a month, five years, two decades from now.

"Go home, Buck. Hate me there."

---

He goes in for the kill.

"I called Abby, two nights ago."

Right for the jugular. No survivors.

"She laughed for like twenty minutes, and then she tried to get me to chat about our sex life for comparison, and then she was shocked silent for a full minute when I wouldn't." Because Evan had always been a little too open about those details. "She also told me she forgave you but she doesn't think you ever forgave yourself."

Tommy agrees. For all that they'd been terrible for each other, they'd known how the hell to take care of one another like no one's business.

"I want you to go," Tommy says, steady, quiet, nearly a snark for how deep his voice goes to hide the tremor in it.

Buck cocks a hip against the doorframe. "I want my sweatshirt."

The breath that escapes him is shaky, but her think he hides most of it behind the hand over his face, the finger pinched at the bridge of his nose.

"I can't do this."

"Exactly how many men and women do I have to fuck before you believe the future I'm looking at is with you?"

"All of them! None! It was a stupid thing to say and it's not what I meant and I can't do this."

Buck spins on his heel. Grabs the box he'd set aside and hefts it up into his arms. "I'm coming back for my sweatshirt," he says. "You let me know whether you want to talk about the data points of the sexuality spreadsheet or about us."

"There is no us, Buck." His voice sounds defeated even to himself.

"If that was true you'd just give me the stupid sweater and be done."

Tommy sits in silence. He does not get up to retrieve the hoodie. Buck is still angry, but his smile is wide and bashful.

Tommy listens to his footsteps trail down the hall, towards the door, out of it. He hears the Jeep's ignition catch, the wheels roll off the drive.

He realizes he'd left the goddamn Jeep manual open on the timing belt page, right there on his side table where he'd pointed out the things he wanted Evan to take to clear him from his life.

---

There is someone knocking at his door.

Tommy doesn't quite ignore it.

He hid the sweatshirt in one of his toolbox drawers when Evan texted him this morning to let him know he'd be over with a six pack and a pot of chili.

There's a zero percent chance Evan's getting that sweatshirt back, tonight.

[daisy-does-art-and-stuff]

I GATHERED ALLLLL MY EVIDENCE TOWARDS THERE BEING AN ACT THREE

ITS UNDER READ MORE BC THERES A LOT MORE SPOILERS THAN MY LAST COUPLE POSTS

every finale for every season had a panning shot of the sky with "the end" showing up in black text. we didnt get that in this episode (https://x.com/goblonglo/status/1845168766839046382)

all the plotholes?? the things left unfilled?? there is no way theyd leave it off so open-ended. even hfjones ending had more closure

most movies have 3 acts. the 2nd act is known for being the part where everything seems hopeless and theres no saving them. we're still in the "all is lost" portion yall!!

there was a member that said something along the lines of "keep an eye out for what mores to come" in a tweet that was deleted not long after it was made. this implies They werent meant to spoil that there was more coming (https://x.com/meepletism/status/1845164453970706672, https://x.com/eyewellduh/status/1845156100779180075)

no one has ever had a solid answer whether or not there was only act 1 and act 2. not anyone has said a word about it yet. sure, theres no confirmation, but theres also no denying

the entire "how bow got her tail" thing. every time they made her start talking about it, it cuts away. we dont now whats up with that yet, which implies that it spoils what its gonna be used for in the future

THEY JUST HIRED NEW ANIMATORS!!! like LITERALLY just hired a big batch of new animators. there is no way that they did it just for one last part of the series just to end it so soon.

in the post where they promoted the release of ii17 on twitter, it states the series CONTINUES, not CONCLUDES. if you look back on old posts, like the one from the iii finale, it states in big bold letters THIS IS THE END IT ENDS HERE but it doesnt do that (https://x.com/AnimationEpic/status/1845134881098961164, https://x.com/AnimationEpic/status/1764314840410021903)

kinda hand in hand with above but the description of this video compared to other finale episodes looks like just a normal episode. theres no "thanks for watching the series" or anything. the ii team wouldnt just Leave it off like that i dont think

adams account being deactivated over on twitter due to his whole "running away from mephoneX" thing has to be relevant right. they have to reactivate it at some important point. like when act 3 comes out? right??

i cant think of anything more if anyone else has something to add please do so. also if theres anything here that doesnt make sense i apologize my brain is in such a whirlwind

editting this for a few new reasons

11. every season so far has had 18 episodes (if you dont count the iii finale being broken into two separate episodes). we're currently at 17

12. brian asked to contact someone in regards to credit sequences which is Probably in relation to the ii finale. we havent seen that yet so either it wasnt for ii or theres Another Episode for us to See It In. proof in posts comments

13. in the last meetups, a suitcase plush was hinted at. theyve also talked about the plush on stream. we havent been advertised this plush yet so theyre likely saving it for the last episode

[aesthetic-bbyg]

A LITTLE TREAT ~ Sanji

LA!Sanji x fem baker!reader

warnings: fluff, smut, oral (f!receiving)

Nattie speaks: Smash

THE TWO OF YOU CROWDED THE small kitchen with both yourselves and the large amount of utensil splayed out on the counter. You crouched under his arm as he sizzled a dish on the stove, hurryingly whisking together the mix within your bowl. You’re apron was stained with flower, egg yolk, and god knows what.

“I can tell from here that the only pretty thing is definitely you and not whatever you have going on there.” Sanji teased, eyes staring at the mixture while you rolled your eyes. Sprinkling a a generous amount of cinnamon before reaching for the molding pan.

“And I can smell that only good thing is neither you nor that food, if that’s what you dare to call it.” You replied as your lips quirked up in a smirk, pouring the contents of the bowl into the metal pan.

“My, that hurt, love.” The blonde replied, watching you concentrate your eyes on pouring the perfect amount into each paper-covered cup.

“Good.” You mumbled back, ushering him away from the stove to delicately place the pan into the preheated oven. “Maybe you’ll learn to keep that beautiful mouth shut, and find better uses for it.” You gave him a sly winked, moving past him swiftly to start up a fresh batch of frosting.

“Wouldn’t you like to know what I could do this mouth.” Sanji replied nonchalantly, acting as if his dick totally didn’t strain against his pants and a faint tint of red appeared on his face.

You threw him a sweet smile, showcasing the pearly canines while you poured milk into the bowl. You paused, looking around in a slight panic. Where the hell was the vanilla extract? You pinched yourself for forgetting it, you could’ve sworn that you had everything you need already prepped for you to use. Without a second to waste you bent down, opening the cupboard to find a mess of seasonings and ingredients mixed together. You sighed, digging through till your hands caught the dark bottle with a vanilla orchid stuck onto the label. You stood up, catching the eye of Sanji who’d gone unusually quiet, not snarky remark about you being unprepared.

That was because he’d gotten a full view of your eyes the second you bent over before him, revealing what was under that skirt of yours. He nearly burned his food if you hadn’t thrown him a look over your shoulder. After a few more flirty insults thrown at eachother, the food was done. You called Nami into the kitchen as the two of you slid the your creations in front of her. Sanji went on a rant about the meal and how the ingredients in it were like no other, compared to you cinnamon and vanilla cupcake.

The orange haired girl stared at the two plates, unimpressed, and that’s what made the competition so fun. Nami was the only person on the crew who would give a straight answer without a bias. Luffy and Usopp were far too kind to ever admit which one they liked more, constantly reassuring that both were just as delicious.

Zoro had a something against Sanji, their bickering aggressive and annoying whenever they were within the same proximity as each other. You both knew that the moss-head, as Sanji liked to say, was against anything he ever did. If there was a delicious, four course meal offered to him by Sanji, and you presented him with a burnt cheesecake, he’d chose your pastry just to spite the French man.

“Go ahead, take the first bite.” Sanji offered a fork to the girl as she took it and stabbed it into the food, swiping up into her mouth and chewing it with a straight face. She hummed softly, nodding in approval as she set the fork down, swallowing and savory the taste. Then, she picked up the warm cupcake, decorated beautifully with soft and puffy frosting with gold accents. It was fluffy, it golden brown color inviting, and the taste was just as satisfying as it’s looks. Nami licked the frosting that smudged on her lip, let out another hum with a slight smile.

“Well?” You were the first to speak up, leaning on the counter slightly with awaiting eyes. “Who’s did you like?”

“Well, for starters, Sanji’s plate was a meal, something to satisfy a hungry stomach.” Nami commented, making the blonde on your left smirk proudly. “Yours was a nice balance of sweetness and warmth, something to cure a sweet temptation.” The girl placed her hands on her lap, “I liked yours better.”

You smiled widely, bouncing up with a shout as the man next to you sighed, turning away before you could shove it in his face. Nami left the kitchen, cupcake in hand and chuckling at your childish antics. The afternoon ended in torturous teasing from your end while Sanji was left to clean up the whole kitchen, leaving you to relax, watching as he washed the variety of pans.

“Don’t use so much force, it scratches the metal.” You spoke, watching the slightly irritated man scrub away at the grease.

“I’ve work as a chore boy in one of the finest restaurants in the east blue, I know what I’m doing.” Sanji quipped back, making you roll your eyes and stand from the small stool.

“Still bitter, Sanji?” You giggled, bumping your hip into his lightly, “Don’t be such a sore loser.”

“I should’ve won.” He muttered, placing a freshly washed plate atop of the growing pile with a clank. He shut off the running water, drying his hands on a nearby rag, “You got lucky.”

“Admit it, hon, my sweet treats are the greatest things you’ve ever tasted.” You leaned against the counter, one hand firmly planted on your hip. “Or you won’t hear the end of it from me.”

Sanji glanced over his shoulder, walking over to slowly, a smirk slowly lifting onto his lips. “I’ve never even tasted you so called sweet treats, love, why would I spit out lies?” He face so close to your that his breath fanned over your features.

You hummed, feigning a sad frown. “Such a shame, don’t you wanna have a taste of what I got to offer?”

In a dizzying, swift motion, he gripped your waste, harshly planting your ass onto the wooden countertop. He sank down to his knees, creasing the fancy shoes he trudge around the kitchen in, hands teasingly rubbing up and down your thighs. He planted soft pecks from you knee, slowly rising till his lips met the bottom of your skirt. He looked up at you, you’d gone completely silent, just watching with wide eyes and heavy breaths. Without even speaking you lifted your hips, bunching up the skirt to your stomach so it revealed everything.

He squeezed the flesh on your thighs, feeling his mouth water as you leaned back, shaky hands keeping up your body up while you legs spread themselves open. Fuzzy thoughts taking over you. Sanji wanted to move slowly, he was a man of romance after all, he wanted every touch to be meaningful, but fuck, with the way your pussy was displayed, dripping in your arousal and practically inviting him in. He couldn’t hold back, his hands tightly gripped your thighs, assuring that you’d have no way to escape him, even if you were crying from the pleasure.

His tongue expertly lapped up your juices while he nose simultaneously nudge your clit, creating a pleasurable combination. Your back fell done to lay against the wood, free hands now flying to twist themselves into his blonde locks. Your hips jerked and squirmed with each flick against the sensitive pearl, legs going a bit numb from how tight he held them. There would definitely be noticeable marks after he was done, but your mind focused more on what occurred in that moment. How he tongued your cunt repeatedly, moaning softly with each tug of his hair.

Your back arch off the counter, mouth opening widely as you whimpered out, “Don’t stop, please, please.” Your eyes squeezed shut, body stilling for a moment before your hips twitched, an overwhelming feeling washing over you. The tightly wound coil snapped as soon as he began to suck on your clit. “Fuck, Sanji.” You moaned out, subconsciously pressing his face closer then it already was, riding out your high on his nose.

It was such a gut felt orgasm that tears pricked the corner of your eyes, choking back a yelp when he continued his expert tongue work. You’d felt the overstimulation kick in, hands pushing his head away as pathetic squeaks escaped your mouth. He left two more kisses right on your clit, lifting his head to reveal the absolute mess you’d made on the freshly wiped down counter and on his face. A mixture of your slick wetness and cum dripped down his chin, a cunning smirk on his lips.

He lifted you off your back by your hand, making your floppy body meet his hard chest. He lifted your head, forcing you to meet his intoxicating gaze. “I admit it.” He planted a sweet kiss on your lips, “Your sweet treat is the best I’ve ever had, love.”

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

This man is every possible green flag imaginable. I must have him.

Literally me and Sanji (real, not clickbait, not edited)

[g00seg1rl]

A Sweet Treat

Pairing: Elain Archeron x Lucien Vanserra

Summary: Lucien missed so much about Elain as she was gone on a research trip. Her melodic laugh, her gorgeous face and among everything else, he craved her delectable pussy. Luckily for him, Elain is eager to reciprocate the yummy favor of freshly baked cookies Lucien had baked for her.

All 3k words are below the divider or on ao3! I swear this wasn’t even meant to be smutty when I started, it just happens yanno 🤭💗

It had been two weeks since he’d seen Elain. She’d been on an expedition to the Galapagos Islands to see some fancy and nearly extinct species of tortoise.

It had been thirteen days since Lucien caved and admitted he was atrociously jealous of a turtle.

Lucien was also one of a kind, slow, and parts of him were hard, but no- Master Oogway’s stunt double got all of his girl’s attention.

He’d appreciated all the adorable photos of Elain surrounded by the lively archipelago and various geckos, or the long texts explaining each and what had to be every flower she came across. He would, of course, reply thoroughly and ask apt questions to earn a smiley video call so she could elaborately blab further.

Lucien loved seeing her in her element: on the verge of getting poisoned and/or stabbed to death just so she could catch a glimpse or catalog a plant or beaming at every creature and endangering herself to go tap its nose.

His current lock screen was a candid shot Nuala took of Elain crouching low to boop the nose of a large iguana on the beach. Her pink gingham bikini top and high rise denim shorts were… Well, they were also sources of Lucien’s envy.

A text from ‘💗 Lainey 💗’ pulled him from his reverie. She was two minutes away and the cookies were going to be done just- fuck, too on time. He’d need to pull them out in one minute and fifty four seconds and his oven had to be about... Hm, maybe a four second scurry from his front door? He could probably do it in three.

He pushed off his marble island and peered into the sweltering oven to check on the golden-browning batch of cookies. He blushed at his squinting reflection before doubling down his focus and checking on the four rows of four heaping dollops of chocolate cookie dough arranged on a flat pan. The tops had finally flattened and looked less like sticky balls.

Nesta may have been laughing her ass off while she recited the recipe, but she swore on the grave of her father, which weirdly only made her laugh harder, that she had listed everything correctly when Lucien confirmed all the ingredients and steps.

He had to barter Eris’s childhood stories for the elusive and highly regarded secret Archeron recipe, but he’d do whatever it took to recreate the warm, welcoming atmosphere of Elain’s own apartment for her to come home to.

Nesta had insisted on being the one to pick Elain up from the airport, then take her out for a one-on-one steak dinner and drop her off at Lucien’s. He really wanted to object or try to join them for dinner, but Elain just winked and assured him he’d have her to himself all night long, and Lucien’s brain went fuzzy and compliant. So now here he was, waiting until Nesta would deign to deliver his girlfriend with an eager, giddy smile and a concerningly fast-racing heart.

Forty-eight seconds remained on his timer, and the cookies were forming delectably. He did a once-over of his kitchen, making sure he cleaned up all of the mess he made making the dough.

“Perfect. Can’t wait to see you! 😘” he tapped out after liking her message.

He placed his phone down on the island to grab an oven mitt and readied himself to quickly take out the tray in... twenty-nine seconds. He chose the burgundy glove that was closest and stared down at the timer on his phone with a mitted hand and bated breath.

As he waited, he got overly excited at a Credit Karma notification, telling him his credit had gone up for the fifteenth time that week. He caressed the photo of Elain’s body with longing.

Faint clicking from outside his corridor, the same tempo as Elain’s chunky heeled boots, froze Lucien’s circulation with anticipation. He wanted her to suddenly be right in front of him and yet he also wanted her to take her time because he felt like fainting he was so overwhelmed.

Nine seconds. He straightened himself and turned to rest his gloved hand on the oven handle.

He turned to keep his eye on the countdown– seven seconds left, and the thumps of Elain’s footsteps were getting louder, as was Lucien’s heartbeat.

He checked the cookies, and they looked done but the timer still said five seconds. He knew he was probably being anal but he wanted to be exact. Eris would never forgive him if he knew Lucien traded humiliating stories for a recipe he didn’t give his all.

Though the chances of Eris forgiving him once Nesta flexed her newfound blackmail were already laughably low.

Whatever, worth it.

Two seconds and there was a jangly, tinkling sound prefacing three cascading knocks on his door.

“Coming!” Lucien’s voice called out over the ringing alarm.

He quickly yoinked the pan and set it down on the counter before running to the door– it totally felt like three seconds.

He fumbled with the door knob, having forgotten to remove the mitt. He groaned as he pulled it off and tucked it beneath his bicep. He was wearing a long sleeved grey Henley tee that was probably a size too small but Elain always eye-fucked him when he wore it so it felt like the obvious choice to match the black jeans she tended to slap his ass in.

He opened the door to see Elain in all her petite glory. A flowy, plaid, pale green cotton skirt hung low on Elain’s hips. A swath of soft, milky skin separated the waistband from the laced trim of her white crop top, cinched between her breasts to show off some of her lovely cleavage and the array of dainty chains that made up the golden stack of her necklaces. She was a bit taller than usual, atypically hitting Lucien’s pec due to the platformed brown leather boots that matched her caramel colored satchel hanging on her shoulder.

She wore a shimmering pink gloss on her lips and her wispy lash extensions brushed the edge of her oversized fashion frames– a tortoise pattern pair of glasses that looked so cute– like that black pair that the reporter from Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs wore.

Elain was holding a bunch of peachy tulips already trimmed and set in a white ceramic vase.

“Hey baby.” He reached out to take the vase with one hand and wrap his other around her waist, pulling her into a long kiss.

“Mmn, hey.” She smiled against his lips, her arms feeling up his own and resting around his neck.

“Hi,” he greeted... again.

She chuckled and took him back into a kiss, much slower and more deliberately deep. He melted into it.

He caressed the smooth exposed skin of Elain’s lower back, eliciting a pretty shiver. He wanted to hold her but the stupid– no, they were lovely flowers– the inconveniencing flowers were in his left hand.

He broke their kiss and pulled back. Elain’s brown doe eyes were bright and smiling. She pursed her plush lips and moved forward, no doubt for another lil’ makeout session but Lucien needed more than that.

“Missed you,” he murmured with a smile, brushing his thumb over her freckled cheekbone as he shut the door with his foot. He winced at how loudly the door slammed, but Elain just giggled at him. Her eyes crinkled further and her dimples grew impossibly deeper.

“I missed you,” she insisted, a finger poking at his chest.

Lucien huffed in amusement. He moved his hand to rest on the small of her back and led her to the kitchen. It wasn’t much of a walk as his kitchen was the first room one entered when walking into his place, and she’d already been there countless times– okay look, he just wanted to touch her- what’re you gonna do- huh?-

Sorry, sorry. It’s not you, it’s him, he’s just scared of coming off clingy.

Defensively, breaking the fourth wall moment concluded, they reached the aromatic peak of his apartment, right in front of the island, with their backs to the oven.

He placed the vase on the marble slab and glanced at her from the side, a brow raised involuntarily, waiting for Elain to comment on the perfect (in Lucien’s opinion) cookies that he’d baked for her.

She clocked his side eye and took a dramatic inhale through her button nose. Her head relaxed back and she loudly hummed contentedly. She lolled her head to the side and let her eyes fall open, a cheek-tearing smile painted her face.

“It’s almost difficult to acknowledge how perfect you are, Lucien. How can a thank you suffice when I’ll be thinking about this on down days?” she asked rhetorically. The adoration in her eyes took his breath away as she continued, “This is... priceless to me baby, thank you,” she said so earnestly it nearly brought a tear to his eye.

They were just cookies, he thought teasingly, but he shut that down real quick. She was precious, and he hated that such a small effort was so impactful but loved that he was the one making Elain smile like that.

It was so worth whatever Eris would do when he found out Lucien had told Nesta about that time he pissed himself– okay shit, he shouldn’t tell anyone else, Eris might actually murder him.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he said with an accomplished grin

She hopped up onto her tippy toes to steal him back into a kiss. His hands moved to her waist and he picked her up to set her down on the island.

She wrapped her legs around Lucien’s hips, and Lucien pulled her against him. Her skirt pooled around her waist and he ground his hardening dick against her.

She stopped him with a gentle double tap of her finger against his sternum and Lucien’s spine went rigid; he leaned away from her lips and mustered all the dejection he could into his pout as he faced Elain’s smirk and arched left brow.

“Let me eat at least one cookie first,” she taunted his eagerness and reached sideways for said confection.

“Oh, of course, my dear,” he breathed with a sigh of relief. He might’ve literally had an aneurism if she wanted to stop going.

He caressed her sides a bit nervously as she took a big nibble. Elain’s eyes lit up with joy and Lucien hugged her closer.

“Mmn, ohmygod that’s perfect,” she nearly moaned out before taking another bite.

Lucien beamed with pride, and a bit less wholesomely at her pleased moan. He needed more, and louder. He needed to hear her scream his name and refresh his mental image of her falling apart for him–

“That’s, great baby,” he said hoarsely, grinding his hips. She matched his bragging smirk.

“Why don’t you get on your knees so I can give you a treat, too?” she proposed with that sinful yet melodic tone of hers.

He dropped to the ground, hard. His knees might be bruised in the morning. Lucien hoped they would as proof that this happened– that he really had gotten this lucky.

“I fear the cookies hardly compare,” he groaned, pulling her closer to the edge of the counter. She rested her thighs on Lucien’s broad shoulders and leaned back onto the counter.

Lucien smirked at the shuffle of parchment paper and chewing; he smirked harder at the small wet spot already present on her panties.

There was no real way for him to remove them completely so he delved his face forward and nuzzled against the soft fabric, licking at the white silk covering her clit, eliciting a pretty gasp.

He buried his face further between the crease of her thigh and frustratingly covered pussy. He grabbed the edge of her panties between his teeth before sharply jerking his head and tore them with a groan. Elain’s thigh tensed around his neck.

“Sorry, m’gonna replace those,” he promised, wasting no further breath or time before delving his tongue forward, and licking up the seam of her cunt. He kissed against her clit gently and then sucked it into his warm mouth slightly less gently.

“Yes, yes you will,” she rolled her hips forward against his face, and Lucien moaned and took the hint, flicking his tongue against the responsive little nub he’d been dreaming of for weeks.

He huffed and licked lower, needily making his way to taste as much of her as he could. Elain’s moans climbed in volume as Lucien fucked his tongue into her and curved it upwards.

Elain’s legs wrapped tighter around his neck, strangling him needily. He huffed, and delved his tongue deeper inside her, retracting a bit and thrusting back in harshly, and did it again, again and again.

He lusciously stroked against her velvet walls, and one of Elain’s hands sprinkled crumbs in his hair as she tugged him closer against her pussy, willing him to go deeper. As always, he accomplished her will eagerly.

Elain clenched around his tongue, and he wished it was his cock. Speaking of, he rubbed his thighs together uselessly, trying to ease the pressure of his now-aching dick. He wanted to pop-up like a horny Jack-in-the-box and shove inside her, but he needed to taste more of her– she needed to drench his face generously.

“Oh fuck, Lucien, so perfect, right there,” Elain cried out above him. Her thighs were quaking and she was spasming around his tongue. He moved his hands from her hips, one hand reaching down so he could rub small, teasing circles that had Elain trembling.

He groaned into her cunt, moving one hand to palm himself. He was ridiculously close to coming just from nearly suffocating as he tried to drown himself inside her pussy. He’d always loved eating out his partners, but Elain’s sweetness was unparalleled.

Her hips jerked forwards, her hand tugging Lucien closer as she ground against his jaw and flooded his thirsty mouth with her come.

He moaned and pulled his tongue out to lap as much of her arousal as he could. He was sloppier and needier than usual as he licked her clean. He turned to place open-mouthed kisses against the inside of her thighs as he savored every drop, letting his teeth graze the sensitive skin.

“So fucking good for me baby, so good,” Elain breathed out, her legs slacking around his neck. He pulled back and rose from his knees, scrambling to undo his jeans and free his cock.

“You taste so perfect sweetie, missed you so much,” he husked, wrapping a fist around his length and twisting his wrist at the head to slick his cock with precome.

“Mnfg, you too, missed you too Lucien, please- please hurry the fuck up,” she panted, her legs raising to rest on his shoulders.

“‘Course sunshine, just relax f’me, yeah?” he cooed, leveling the crown of his cock against her tensing hole.

He smoothed his other hand up and down her soft thigh, smirking as she leaned back onto her elbows. She shakily leaned her weight onto one arm and pulled her crop top over her pretty, petite boobs. Elain gasped as Lucien immediately leaned forward to capture a perked nipple in his mouth.

He canted his hips forward, pushing his tip in slowly as flicked his tongue against the sensitive bud he was lightly rolling between his teeth. Elain’s back arched, changing the angle beautifully as he buried himself deeper.

She was as tight and hot as he remembered, sucking him in as much as he was shoving forward. He had her practically bent in half, her legs pressed down against her chest as he withdrew half his cock and sharply thrust back in. He kissed across her chest to her other nipple and licked that into his mouth too. All of her tasted delicious.

Elain’s bangles and rings clinked against the marble as she threw her arms over her head. She moaned out loudly, her pussy tightening like a vice grip around him as he moved in earnest, slamming in and out, jostling her around which each thrust.

He released her nipple with a wet pop and leaned up, moving both his hands to grip Elain’s waist and pin her in place for him to ruin.

“Ahh shit Lucien, g’na come again,” Elain warned, as if he couldn’t tell by the way she was clamping down on him so hard he could scarcely move. He fucked harder, knowing she could take it– wanted to take it.

“Go ‘head baby, come for me- fuck- scream for me Lainey,” he groaned, hypnotized by the way her tits bounced along with his thrusts.

“MNNHNFFFUCK LUCIENNN!” she cried out. Her pretty face was flushed, her glasses were askew, her top was bunched up close to her collarbones and her skirt was rumpled in the same fashion around her waist, the soft fabric brushing against his hands every so often.

“That’s it, so gorgeous sweetie, loveyousomuch.” His words jumbled as he neared his orgasm. It was getting harder to rock back and forth, his hips stuttering against his will.

He placed a kiss above her ankle bone as his hips jerked and he finally filled her to the brim with come. He let Elain’s legs fall down to his hips as he fell forward, attempting not to crush her with his body weight as he went boneless.

Her arms hugged around him as she nuzzled her face into his shoulder. They remained blissfully entwined until Lucien’s stomach rudely grumbled. He leaned back to face Elain with a blush as he glazed sideways at the tray of cookies.

Elain chuckled softly, the sound tickled his brain just right. “Go ahead, you earned it.” She said with a cheeky grin, reaching one hand from his back to ruffle his long copper hair.

He bubbled over with laughter at the slight patronization but happily accepted his reward. Lucien rolled off of Elain and pulled her on top of him, she shimmied out of her remaining clothes and melted into the hold, letting her eyes flutter shut as Lucien rubbed her bare back. As he fell into rest, he found himself wishing eating pussy was nutritionally beneficial.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! 💗

Thank you so very much @the-darkestminds for beta reading and helping me title this, you’re the best mami 😘 and @astro-h0e-4azris thank you for hyping me like no other, you’re actually deranged and I love u for it 🫶

Some people who might enjoy this silliness 🫦: @nus4y @jules-writes-stories @mudandmire @mistandmemories @buffy-vanserra @jon-snows-man-bun @fourteentrout @pippsmcgee @iftheshoef1tz @fingerpoppingood please lmk if you want to be on the Elucien taglist 💗

[tickly-trashcan]

Famous Cookies {Cole, Kai, Jay, Lloyd, and Zane}

Hear Me Out Cake Event!

A/N: omg I wrote this instead of doing my reading for my history class LOL this is such a silly fic i think but also... these guys are silly so it fits!!! I don't have much to say lol aside from enjoy and maybe eat a cookie with this bc i want chocolate chunk cookies now after writing this sob sob...

(Cole was requested anonymously, so I hope this finds you somehow hehe!!)

Summary: Zane is making his famous chocolate chunk cookies... what could go wrong?

Word Count: 1.4k (under the cut!)

Whenever Zane made his famous chocolate chunk cookies, it was chaos. Lloyd had almost started crying once over not getting to try one when he was younger, Jay had licked every cookie once in hopes of keeping the other ninja from eating them, and even Kai had hidden the cookies away under his bed once so that only he could eat them.

But Zane could never say no to his fellow ninja when they asked him to make them. That said, he would never tell them exactly when he was making them. This was partly to avoid having more chaos during the baking process, which Zane preferred to keep as peaceful as possible.

“Mmm, it smells good in here, Zane,” Cole said as he walked into the kitchen. His eyes widened as he saw what Zane was pulling out of the oven and he jumped on his tip toes. “Are those the chocolate chunk cookies? Can I have one??”

Zane shook his head, setting the baking pan on the stovetop to cool. “Not yet, they need to cool.”

Cole whined. “Aww, man…”

Zane smiled softly at Cole as he scooped some more cookies onto another sheet. He popped it into the oven and then turned to Cole and handed him the spatula that had some cookie dough on it.

“You can lick it if you want. Just don’t tell anyone else.”

Cole beamed and began to lick at the spatula, humming contently at the delicious taste. “Oh, Zane, this is so good… Now I want a cookie even more!”

Zane chuckled and checked the timer on the batch that was in the oven. “Well, when the first batch cools down, you can have one. It should only be a half an hour.”

Cole groaned. “That’s too long!!” Zane raised an eyebrow and Cole folded his arms. “But I can wait… Your cookies are worth it.”

Zane smiled proudly and took the baked cookies off the sheet, placing them gently onto a cooling rack. The chocolate was still melty, making the cookies extra soft, so he had to handle them with care.

Cole lingered around the kitchen while Zane continued to bake, the two of them chatting about this and that while Zane took cookies out and put more in. After a little while, the first batch of cookies had cooled enough to be handled and eaten, so Zane gestured for Cole to grab one.

“Oho! They’re still warm,” Cole was practically drooling as he looked at the cookies, trying to pick the best looking one. He picked up one with a lot of chocolate chunks in it and took a big bite, letting out a content sigh. “You need to make a million of these and open a bakery… No, actually don’t do that. Then I’d have to share with more people. And I’d also have to pay for them.”

Zane laughed, picking up a cookie for himself as Cole slowly ate and savored the rest of his. As they ate, the smell of freshly baked cookies made its way through the Bounty, and slowly, the rest of the ninja began to wander into the kitchen in search of chocolate chunk cookies.

“Oh man, Zane! They taste so yummy!” Jay said with a laugh as he went to pick up his third cookie.

Kai gave Jay a look. “Save some for us, Jay!”

“You already had two, Kai. Chill out!” Lloyd chuckled, taking another cookie and taking a bite. “Ohh… They get better and better with every bite.”

Cole was also on his third cookie. He took the last bite and hummed, leaning against the fridge. “The dough tasted pretty good, too.”

Everyone’s head whipped around to look at Cole. He jumped slightly at the sudden attention and chuckled. “Uhh… what?”

Zane looked between Cole and the rest of the ninja, watching with mild worry. No one else had ever tried the cookie dough before, and now Zane was regretting letting Cole try it.

“You… You got to try the dough?” Jay said slowly.

Cole gulped, realizing where this was going. “Uhm… no?”

“You just said it tasted good…” Kai raised an eyebrow.

Cole looked to Zane for help, and Zane only shrugged. “I told you not to tell anyone else…”

The three of them exchanged a look, looked down at the remaining cookies that they held, and quickly ate them before turning back to Cole. He began to giggle slightly, both from being nervous and from the fact that Kai, Jay, and Lloyd hardly looked menacing with the melted chocolate all over their cheeks.

“Zane!” Cole looked one last time to Zane, but was met again with a shrug, though this one was slightly more apologetic. “C’mon, guys, it’s not that serious! The next time he makes cookies you guys can just ask him for the spatula!”

“It’s not fair that you got the spatula, Cole!” Jay grumbled, poking Cole’s tummy. “All that delicious cookie dough ended up there!”

Cole squeaked and began to giggle more, fully backed up against the fridge. Kai narrowed his eyes at Cole. “Now you’re laughing at us? You think that it’s funny that we didn’t get any cookie dough?”

“I dohon’t! Seriously, guys!”

Jay and Kai exchanged a look and then they glanced at Lloyd. “What do you think, kiddo? Think we should get him back for eating the cookie dough?”

Lloyd looked at Cole with a raised eyebrow. Then, he smirked. “I think that sounds like a good plan.”

“No, wait–!”

But Cole could not do anything to stop the ninja from pouncing on him. Zane watched as Cole ran, made it about three feet, and was then dragged to the ground before bursting into laughter as Kai, Jay, and Lloyd began to tickle him.

“Wahahahait! No, plehehehease! Why tickles?!” Cole wailed, pounding his fists into the ground as he was tickled by the three of them.

Jay sat on Cole’s back and was scribbling his fingers under his arms and along his upper ribs, making him squeal. “Well, if we used violence, I don’t think Zane would make the cookies again.”

“I don’t know if I approve of this, either!” Zane said with a laugh, leaning against the wall as he watched Cole slowly dissolve into frantic laughter.

“Thehehehen help me, Zahahahane!!” Cole shrieked, but Zane only chuckled and shook his head in response.

Kai sat back-to-back with Jay on Cole’s waist and was kneading his hips, which Cole could barely move with the two of them on top of him. “Hey, maybe if we tickle Cole enough, we could convince Zane to make another batch of cookies.”

“Whahahahat?! Don’t do thahahahat!!” Cole whined, trying to twist around and failing.

Zane raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to ransom cookies out of me…?”

Lloyd, who was sitting on Cole’s calves and skittering his fingers along the backs of his knees, shrugged. “Hey, if we can get more cookies out of it, we might as well.”

“Stop using mehehehe!! Zahahahane, don’t make mohohore!”

“Now he’s trying to sabotage us! He’s trying to hoard the dough for himself… Lloyd, get his feet!” Jay commanded.

Cole screeched when Lloyd switched to tickling his feet. “NOHohoHO!!”

Zane, who realized the situation was getting out of hand, finally intervened. “If I make another batch of cookies right now, will you guys leave Cole alone?”

“Potentially…” Jay said with a slight tease in his voice. Kai nudged him with his elbow and Jay winced. “Yes, yes! We’ll leave him alone if you make more!”

Zane looked over at the cookies that still had not been eaten. Well, he knew that even if he made more, they would be eaten just as fast…

“Alright, I’ll make some more right now,” Zane said with a small smile. “Now leave Cole alone.”

Almost immediately, Kai and Lloyd relented. Jay got in a few more pokes and then got off of him as well, leaving Cole a panting mess face-down on the floor. Zane helped him up after he caught his breath.

Cole shot a few glares at the three ninja who had tickled him to bits, but then looked at Zane with a pout. “You’re gonna make more cookies?”

Zane nodded his head. “Yes, yes, don’t worry. And everyone will get to try the dough since that was clearly an important part of this… event.”

Kai, Jay, and Lloyd all sat down at the kitchen table with Cole while Zane got to work on another batch. As he worked, they talked and chatted, and each ninja got a small ball of the delicious cookie dough before Zane popped the rest into the oven, making even more cookies to share with the group that he loved the most.

[j0kers-light]

Hi girlie hope you're good if you're able to do asks at the moment(if you too busy at the moment it is fine i understand), Please do one where reader is Stoner and she makes 🍃 brownies and J accidentally eats one not knowing it and he then goes out at Night to cause chaos as he usually but then it starts kicking in and he is just confused about the whole thing. HOPE THIS MAKES SENSE 🥴

Hey hi and hello anon! 🖤✨

I'm still recovering from my hand surgery so I elected your request be turned into a hc! (i hope that's okay, if not, please re-send your ask and I'll add it back to my list of to-do's) this was a struggle to write even with my voice-to-text.

That being said, I personally don't interact with any recreational drugs so this is wayy out my comfort zone. I'm sorry in advance if its awful 😖

Also!!! There is a poll at the end of the hc! 🤭

Note to self: your bf has the biggest sweet tooth known to man, and knowing that fact, you should have anticipated him eating your um.. special brownies without preamble.

Any other day it wouldn't bother you. But the entire pan? Seriously? He didn't leave a single crumb!

You worked a very stressful job, lived in a stressful city, with a highly stress inducing boyfriend adding to the mix not including your family and friends.

Any means of relaxing on the low, yeah you'll take it and you have a very nice dealer (cough cough Neo) who hooks you up with the good ish. 👌🏾

High quality product at discounted prices, a judgement free transaction, and very discreet! Unfortunately that seemed to be the problem.

Because your 🍃 went undetected by Joker as you baked up a big batch of brownies. How he didn't smell it as you baked? Whatever.

You guess he can sleep through anything. 🙄

Joker was supposed to be leaving early anyway to cause chaos in the streets of Gotham so you were looking forward to a night of relaxation.

You had everything planned. Dinner, a hot bath, and your beverage of choice after you ate a square or two but NOPE!

Honestly you should have known something was up when Joker kissed you goodbye and you tasted chocolate on his lips.

Surely he couldn't have eaten your brownies, they were waiting to cool down before you cut them, yet you didn't connect the dots at the time.

Joker does not wait for things to cool down. If he sees something made with sugar, he's eating it.

The man child was all smiles as he made a joke to not have 'too much fun while he's gone." Little did he know...

Joker was doing his normal thing, quick gang meeting, casual murder and arson, and laughing gas inventory check, all before midnight.

Everything was going fine to the point J wanted to hand over the reins to Frost and head back home until he started to feel off.

Like normal, too mellow. Is that even possible for a man like him? He thought nothing of it, just nodded along during the meeting although his eyesight did get a bit blurry halfway through.

No one noticed Joker’s odd behavior until him and loyal three were out on a run and Frost was talking.

"—too easy. Right J?" No response. Three pairs of curious eyes stared at J who was too busy glancing at his hands to notice. "Yo Boss?" Frost called out again.

"Is he listening to us?" Mac added.

Neo on the other hand leaned across the table to get a good look at his employer. The invasion of privacy gained somewhat of Joker's attention, but he was too lax in moving out of the way.

Now, that everyone noticed. Joker’s reflexes were notoriously fast.

"Holy s__t is you good my guy? You looked smacked." For once Mac agreed with Neo's crass words. Even more bizarre, J nodded along.

"Uh, I'm alright. I just can't feel my life right now." J mumbled. Why was he speaking so normal? 👀

Crickets. Did they hear that right? Frost was the only one brave enough to reply, "What?"

And with a heavy sigh, Joker broke down. "I saiiiiiid, I can't feel my life! What does it all mean if I can't touch it? But more im-port-ant-ly. Why is he so pale?" Joker asked while pointing to Mac. "What was I thinking hiring a flashlight?"

Frost disguised his laugh into a cough. Mac glared at his other coworker openly laughing at the situation, "It’s not funny. Is he high?"

"Oh yes it is flashlight! Aight lemme check. Dilated pupils. Sudden change of behavior or personality. Duh? Hey Boss, did you take a hit tonight?" Neo asked to be for certain.

And then Joker's phone began to ring with your gorgeous face as the contact photo. Joker didn't hesitate answering but he didn't mean to hit speaker in the process.

"Joker?! Are you still alive, you ate an entire pan of 🍃 brownies! Have you been out yet? Please don't tell me your not out high as Cooter Brown with unlimited weapons! You crazy on a normal day, Gotham ain't ready for you in rare form. Come. Home. Now! On second thought, send me your addy. I'm coming to get you. I can’t even get high without you screwing it up!"

You ended the call and the room plunged into silence.

"Oh my God, he is high."

[lemonsprite]

𝐀 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 || 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬 𝐱 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧

Summary: in which Gale shaves his beard Word count: 500 Warnings: brief description of Astarion biting Gale but nothing crazy!! A/N: BLOODWEAVE BLOODWEAVE BLOODWEAVE THEM!!! Not beta read sorry gang -_-

Gale absentmindedly ran his fingers along his smooth chin still getting used to his bare jaw.

He yawned, scratching idly at his tummy, his tunic riding up revealing a scandalizing inch of his happy trail. The magus flipped the pancakes he was currently cooking over their camps open fire, his gaze lazily focused on making sure none of the fluffy stacks were burnt.

Gale really didn’t want to shave but he was afraid he might wake to Tara trying to do it herself late in the night- despite the fact she has no pose-able thumbs. really he was left with no choice, it was either face an possible accidental slit throat or begrudgingly do it himself.

“Mornin’ darling~” came Astarion’s lazy voice behind Gale, his slender hands wrapping around the other’s waist, the pale elf’s face buried quickly in Gales shoulder. Astarion’s body pressed close against him, almost as if attempting to mold their bodies into one.

The mage hummed in greeting, taking his pan off the fire and dumping another two pancakes on to his already growing pile.

Before he could start on another batch, a shiver ran down Gales spine when he felt the light prickling of Astarion’s cold canines grazing his bare neck, the feeling entirely unfamiliar without his signature stubble.

It wasn’t uncommon for Astarion to nibble on Gales neck. After returning the crown of Karsus to Mystra, the waterdovian’s blood returned to a “pleasant tasting vintage” were Astarion’s exact words.

Before his fangs could sink into his flesh however- the elf paused, drawing away from their tight embrace.

“Gale…” asked Astarion, his voice shaking. “Where… is your beard…”

“I had it shaved.” Hummed Gale as he poured more batter into his pan, giving Shadowheart a pleasant wave as she walked by the campfire, the selǔnite glaring in response, still only half awake.

Astarion grabbed the sides of Gale’s face and forced him to look at the vampire, completely forgetting the pancakes in process.

“You what. He shouted, moving Gales face side to side to stare at every angle of his jaw as if that’s somehow make the hair grow back instantly.

“My cat was going to shave it if I didn’t do it myself.” Gale shrugged, turning slightly in Astarion’s grasp to flip the pancake in his pan.

Astarion stared at Gale bewilderedly.

“Okay… I’m going to ignore that part but darling…” the pale elf whined, pawing at Gales jaw. “You look so…”

“Handsome?” Asked Gale with a cheeky smile.

“…interesting…” corrected Astarion, still staring wide eyed at the Magus.

After a few more seconds of taking it all in, Astarion huffed, resuming his spot behind Gale, his hands making their way to the other man’s soft stomach, rubbing idly at the skin.

“It’s Fine I guess…” he muttered, burying his face once more into Gale’s neck. “I could… get used to it…”

Gale rolled his eyes at Astarion’s dramatics knowing he didn’t truly mean his harsh words. “I’ll grow it back dear but you’ll have to be the one to deal with Tara.”

[nappingnai]

sweet disaster!

synopsis; you attempt to bake for your boyfriend, but it doesnt exactly go as planned..

notes - gn!reader x satoru gojo :) "hun" used as a pet name once. i am genuinely SO ANXIOUS to post this. if u like it pls reblog or comment or whatever.. if u dont like it just come to my house and shoot me tbh

you had always known your boyfriend liked sweet things. the first time you had met satoru, he was munching on some sort of candy. his friends, students, everyone knew. so.. you wanted to try and be a good partner; attempting to bake something for him.

lord now knows you're terrible at baking, and you won't try again.

because it's your fourth try at baking cookies for him, and so far you've failed by forgetting the flour, not placing them further away on the pan causing them to stick together, burning them- you've done everything you could to fuck up these cookies.

you could just watch a tutorial. easy enough, right? well you've watched the same video over and over again, having the urge to punch your phone at the random males voice instructing you for what feels like the tenth time. you could call megumi? he could help. maybe.

a click at the door makes you freeze at the garbage can, having just thrown out your fourth- fifth batch of cookies? you've lost count. you hurriedly shut the garbage, trying to clean up the kitchen and yourself the most you can in only a few seconds, which isn't a lot, but why not try?

satoru shuffles in, looking around a bit for you, hearing you moving around and clinking stuff in the kitchen. "..hun, what're you doing?" he asks, walking over to the kitchen and staring you down as you stand next to the garbage, a complete mess, probably. you haven't had time to look at yourself, just an assumption from the way he's staring down at you and obviously trying not to laugh.

"..nothing at all!" you say, looking over at your boyfriend with a bubbly smile on your face to attempt to distract him from whatever you just threw out, and the burning smell coursing around the house. "you sure?" he questions, tilting his head a bit to the side. you nod, looking into his eyes- well, blindfold- with that same smile on your face. satoru giggles a bit at you, walking over to you.

"two questions. one, why does it smell like a house fire in here? and two, why are you trying so desperately to hide the trash?" he asks, looking down at you. you look up at him. "tried to bake for you, obviously didn't go as planned," you sigh. "stupid dude who's tutorial i was watching didn't make any sense." satoru lets out a small laugh, smiling down at you with that cheeky grin of his.

"you don't gotta bake me anything, you're enough yourself. plus, i don't want you burning down the house.." he mumbles, making you softly punch his arm. "in all seriousness tho, you could've called megumi. he's a pretty good baker, somewhat good of a cook. if you wanna learn how to bake, give him a call."

you nod, still smiling up at him. he leans down and gives you a small peck on the lips, leaning back up to stare back down at you. "please don't try baking again without someone else. it smelled like there was a fire, i thought you burned the house down. smelled like it, at least." satoru says, still looking down at you. you pout up at him, flicking his forehead.

made by myguumi; please dont alter my work or try and post as your own. reblogs are appreciated, but claiming as your own is not.

@venzlenes

[sturniozo]

In The Shadows IV

Masterlist

“Just one?” Matt asks as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

I look down with a deep blush. “I really have to go-“ I mumble.

“My love, you’ll be happy to give in.” He murmurs as he leans in closer to me.

“Matt-“

“Shhh” he shushes me and presses his finger to my lips. “Just let me…” he trails off. He removes his hand from my lips and leans in close, his lips inches from mine. My heart pounds as I feel him breath on my face.

My eyes snap open as the sound of my alarm rings through the room. I sit up in my bed and shut off the constant beeping. I look around the room. No Matt. It was all just a dream. A horrible dream. Like I’d let anything like that happen between Matt and I.

I rub my face in my hands before I throw the covers of the bed off my body. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, my feet hitting the cold hardwood floor.

Before I can even stand up from my bed there’s a knock on my door. “Hey, did you get up yet?” Matt asks.

I groan. “Yeah, now leave so I can get dressed.” I snap at him.

As much as I despise Matt, I hate mornings much more. The mix of the two is probably the closest thing to my own living hell there is.

“I made breakfast.” He replies through the door.

I shake my head. “I don’t eat breakfast.”

I can hear Matt’s groan through the door. “Come on, I spent so long trying to get the waffles perfect. I burnt like four batches just to get them right for you.”

I roll my eyes. “You don’t have to try to get on my good side when we’re alone.”

“I’m not trying anything. I thought you’d want breakfast.” He says softly.

I take a deep breath. “I’ll be down in a bit.”

“Alright.” Matt says. I hear his footsteps walking away down the hall.

I stand up from my bed, walking to my suitcase in the corner. I pull it over and set it down on the bed, digging through for some clothes for the day.

A party. I can’t believe he’s already gotten us into a party. We only found out about the whole assignment the other day. How could he have pulled this off so quickly? It’s going to be suspicious that we’re the only people no one has heard of in that party of wealthy beneficiaries.

I shake my head. I’ve never been one for dresses or dressing up of any sort. “Foods getting cold!” Matt tells from downstairs.

I roll my eyes and head for the door. I walk downstairs and turn to the right, entering the kitchen.

The counter is a mess, covered in batter and broken eggshells. There’s a pan full of sausage grease burning on the stove, and a plate of overcooked omelettes sitting on the one burner of the stove that’s not in use.

“Matt, what the fuck?” I ask.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, the burns are mostly cheese!” He says as he picks up the plate of omelettes.

“Where are the waffles?” I ask as I sit down at the table.

“Uh, here!” Matt picks up a plate that was covered by paper towels.

“Why are there paper towels on the waffles?” I laugh as I ask.

“They had sausage grease on them.”

“Why?”

“I spilled it.”

“How?”

Matt shrugs. “What do you think?” He asks as he places all the plates on the table. A plate of sausages, waffles, and omelettes.

“Is there enough in our budget to hire a chef?” I ask as I poke the inedible sausage with a fork.

“Hey, I tried!” Matt laughs.

“Not very hard.” I mumble.

“What was that?” Matt asks.

“I said we should throw this out before it mutates and eats us.” I stand up from the table.

Matt frowns and pokes at the omelette that looks like an orange blobfish. “I suppose we can go out for breakfast. Make a face for ourselves.”

“Yeah. You should clean this up first.” I turn around to walk back upstairs.

“You aren’t going to help me?”

“I didn’t make the mess.” I shrug.

“God, you’re like my brother.” He groans.

“That’s a rude thing to say to your wife.” I laugh. “Especially since I know your brother, that’s not a kind comparison.”

Matt laughs. “But really though, aren’t you going to at least help me clean up?” He asks again.

“Can’t hear you, I’m already upstairs!” I yell back as I run up the stairs and to my room. I close the door behind me and giggle as I hear Matt groan loudly and stomp up the stairs.

He opens my door. “You’re sure a child.” I say as I search through my clothes for something to wear to go to breakfast in.

“You’re missing something.” Matt mumbles.

I turn around to face him, confused. “What?”

“Something you’re supposed to be wearing.”

I look down. Shirt, shorts, socks… “What are you talking about?” I ask.

Matt walks up to me. He takes my hand and slips a ring on my finger. “The thing that married people wear.” He says.

“Oh, yeah, that.” I look at the ring. It’s beautiful. Large diamond in the middle with smaller diamonds around it, and it fits perfectly on my finger. “Where did this come from?” I ask. “Did my dad or the case manager pick it out?”

“It’s mine.” Matt says. I look up.

“What?”

“Well, my grandmothers.”

“You’re having me wear your grandmothers ring? For a fake marriage?”

“Why not?” Matt shrugs. He turns around.

“Wait!” I stop him.

“Well if you want to really get married-“ he starts to say.

“What? No, god no!” I laugh and cross my arms. “I just thought you should save your grandmothers ring for someone you really love and are going to marry for real.” I take the ring off and hand it back to him. “We should get different matching ones for the cover.”

“So we’re just going to walk around ringless and hope people know we’re married?” Matt laughs.

“We’ll get-“

Matt shuts me up. “Put the ring back on.”

“You should save it-“

“For someone I really love?” Matt stares at me. “I think that’s passed, don’t you?”

I look down. “Matt, I-“

“No, that was my choice.” He sighs. “Just put the ring on. We should get going before the breakfast hours are over.” He turns around to leave, shutting the door behind him.

“Matt!” I yell through the door.

“Yes, love?” He replies.

“We should match.”

“Match?”

“Yeah, match outfits.”

“Okay.” Matt says. “What did you have in mind?”

TAGS: @bernardenjoyer @sturniolosreads @mbbsgf @xxsadlovexx @whicked-hazlatwhore @sturnsgirl @keira324 @stuniolobbg @timmyscomputer @meg-sturniolo @sturnioloenthusiast @nickdevora @hearts4chris @carolinalikesthings @mattscokewhore @sturniolopookie @savageking3 @tastesousweet @jko3005 @sturniolo0ntop @cheesesoda @stvrnise @blueeyedbesson @crazycoka @ambersworld69

[probably-writing-x]

Armour - Chapter Three

Summary: Having your heart broken was one thing. But Rafe watching somebody break your heart? That was something nobody could prepare for.

Warnings: mentions of a toxic relationship, cursing, i think that’s everything?

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long to come out !! I went away for a few days and had the busiest week ever but I’m back y’all and I love you <3. Also, I love this storyyyyy !!

———

Rafe’s plan had only been to stay for a few days. And those ‘few’ days were rapidly coming to an end. You’d noticed it first when you’d made your way downstairs and his bag was now packed beside the couch, a duffle only half full. There was a pair of shoes sat next to it and his jacket slung over the top - likely for when he got back to New York. He hadn’t mentioned to you about him leaving, hadn’t even really spoken about New York at all - when you asked him how life was in the city, he rolled his eyes and said ‘you make me sound so pretentious’. You hadn’t asked again and it hadn’t ever come up in conversation, and so you’d just assumed he didn’t want to talk about it yet. But with his bag seemingly waiting for him to go, the realisation dawned on you that you now might not get the chance.

“Good morning!” Rafe looks up as you walk through to the kitchen, “Sleep well?”

You smile, his face is more tanned now than when he arrived, the sun working to return to him, “Yeah, all good. Did you?”

He nods, “Yeah, I just had to get up early to see a couple of people.”

Yesterday night had felt so normal. You’d swam until the sun had fully disappeared, and Rafe spent the next half an hour pretending he knew the stars in the sky, though you were certain he only named one of the constellations right - one of the ones that everyone knows. The pair of you had decided to leave when you were both shivering and you’d lost all feeling in your feet. You’d wrapped towels around you and he’d chased you when you stole his. You showered and changed into the warmest clothes you could find, sat on the couch with Rafe and a mug of tea as the night passed, both of you eventually giving in to sleep when your eyes felt too heavy to beat.

“Do you fancy pancakes?” He suggests, “I want pancakes.”

“As long as you’re better at making them by now,” You point out, walking around the side of the kitchen island.

“Hey! Cut me some slack okay? I was like eighteen!”

“Still old enough to know how to make pancakes,” You shake your head, opening a couple of the cupboards to look for ingredients.

The last time the two of you made pancakes together was when you were both in high school - your options were either revising for finals or finding something else to distract yourselves. You’d opted for the latter. You’d walked the long way to the shop and bought ingredients, whisked up a batch of pancake batter and spilt flour all over the counter. Rafe had been in charge of cooking them, but he’d left the heat too high on the pan and used way too much oil, and the first attempt at a pancake resulted in batter spattering up from the pan and flying into the air. He’d yelled at you jokingly to take cover and had pulled you under the shelter of his arms, your head crushed against his chest as the two of you laughed. You hadn’t thought about it too much then - you’d been dating James by that point anyway. But, now, the thought of Rafe’s arms around you like that made your heart swell just a little.

“Okay what do we need?” Rafe asks, rummaging in one of the cupboards to pull out a big bowl and a whisk.

You lay out the few ingredients on the countertop and start to pour rough measurements of them into the bowl, waiting as Rafe whisks them around, some flour splashing over the lip of the bowl.

“Rafe! Careful!” You laugh, hitting at his arm.

“See? Don’t hit me, you made it worse,” He shakes his head, “So messy (Y/N).”

You roll your eyes and take out a pan, pouring a tiny bit of oil onto the surface and swirling it around.

“Okay so, from experience, we need to be ready to run,” Rafe comments, pouring a circle of batter into the pan.

“So, this is going better than last time,” You smile, “It’s good to see we’ve both got better at doing this.”

“Alright, flip it!” He encourages, watching you patiently.

“Oh, god, no, I’m terrible at flipping them,” You shake your head, “Can you do it?”

Rafe laughs and steps around so that he is stood behind you, his arms wrapping around either side. His hands fold themselves over yours on the handle of the pan, his chest flush against your back.

“We’ll both do it,” He mumbles, his chin above your head to watch the sight in front of the two of you, “Ready?”

He tightens his grip around your hands and lifts the pan up, both of you watching as the pancake flips. It lands on its other side but one of the sides folds upwards on itself.

“Okay so we’re still not the best at making pancakes but we’re definitely getting better.”

You manage to make up enough pancakes for three each and a small pile of mini ones because Rafe always says it’s the best bit when you share them between you. You put maple syrup on yours and he puts whipped cream on his and the two of you sit beside each other on the kitchen island, your elbows bumping as you cut into the fluffy pancakes.

“So, what are your plans for today?” You ask him, wiping your mouth on a napkin.

“Well, I should pro-“

“Hey!” Sarah interrupts, coming through to the kitchen.

You’re sure her bump has grown even in the days you’d been here, and every time you saw her you got a new ounce of excitement for seeing her become a Mom - a day you’d spoken about since the two of you were in pigtails.

“So, John B’s got work to do today,” Sarah explains, “But I need help picking out a crib for the nursery. What do you say we leave in like thirty minutes?”

You nod, “Yeah, of course, I’ll come with you. I’ll go and get ready now.”

Your eyes catch Rafe’s for a brief second and you can see something in them that you hadn’t noticed before, like an odd uncertainty or something close to a guilt. But you offer him a smile and he smiles back before his eyes flick away from you, back down to the fork in his hands.

~~~

Within the hour, you and Sarah are already at the only store on the islands that could actually sell cribs - though the options were limited and you were sure it would be a better choice to accept JJ’s offer of making one for her. You pick up a few other supplies whilst you’re there though - a wooden decoration for the nursery wall, a book shelve with clouds on either end, a few story books with no more than five words per page. Eventually, you give up on the rest, and go to the coffee shop together, taking a seat at a different table from the one you’d been at with James.

“So, did the talk with James make you feel better about things?” Sarah asks, stirring a spoon around her decaff coffee.

You take a deep breath, “I think so… I don’t know.”

She smiles a little, “I figured.”

“I just-“ You shake your head, “I still don’t get it, you know? The reasons he’s giving me, the way he’s acting - I still don’t know how he thinks he’s made the right decision by throwing away a nine year relationship,” You spill, words seeming to tumble into the space between you.

“Well, when you saw him did you want to go back to him?”

You stop then, letting the question sit.

“If he’d have told you then that he wanted to get back together with you, would you have gone?”

The words settle and you still have no response. There’s not a single thought in your mind that could string a sentence together. When you’d seen James yesterday, he wasn’t a boy who knew you. His hands weren’t outstretched to hold your heart, his eyes not flooded with an admiration he would only have for you, his brain not ticking over to remember every detail you’d told him. And you hadn’t reached for him either. You hadn’t felt that pull to return, the kind that made you fight back tears, made your heart feel like it broke a little more in your chest, your hopes sink a little further down into your stomach. It was like there was a wall - one you hadn’t much noticed before. And you realise it all then. You didn’t want to go back to him. And when your mind tried to really consider it, there was only one face you could imagine wanting to go back to…

“(Y/N)?”

You hadn’t realised your eyes filling with tears, the kind that you could place bets on falling or disappearing. You hadn’t noticed your hands gripping too tightly onto the cup on the table in front of you. Or the way Sarah looked at you like she’d just watched a piece of your facade crumble away right in front of her.

“I’m sorry, what wa-“ You shake your head and the tears choose to disappear this time, “Is it okay if we head home?”

She frowns a little as is in worry but nods, “Of course, yeah, of course we can.”

Your drink wasn’t gone, the bill not printed, your stomach rumbled in the absence of food - but there was only one thing on your mind. And you’re in the car to go home before you have the chance to think again.

Sarah chooses not to talk on the drive, the light hum of music between you filling the air enough until she pulls into the driveway. But it’s weird. There’s an odd gut feeling when you get out of the car - like an inevitability you hadn’t considered. You suppress it for enough time that the key turns in the lock and Sarah steps into the house, you following behind.

Your eyes flick to it immediately. The space beside the couch, on the floor just below the armrest. Where a half-full duffle bag and a jacket and a pair of shoes should sit. But nothing is there. Your eyes then move to the end table beside the couch - where a phone and a tangled charging cable and a glass of untouched water should sit. But nothing is there. And the couch - sheets folded atop a single pillow in the middle. All traces of him seemingly wiped away.

Sarah looks back at you, setting the shopping bag down onto the counter, and she realises it instantly, “He didn’t tell you?”

“He-“ You clear your throat, shaking your head, “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“I’m so sorry (Y/N), I thought you’d know,” She comes back over to you, eyes seeking to find your gaze, “He told me he wasn’t leaving until tonight, so I figured we’d be back before he left. I don’t know wh-“

“He’s just gone?” You half-cough to get the block out of your throat, “He can’t just-“

“Look, he can’t be leaving yet, maybe you could catch him before he goes?” Sarah pushes the car keys into your hands, “Take the truck.”

Your heart sinks and for a moment you rethink it all. Maybe you should let him go. It would be easier. He’d leave now, maybe come back when the baby is born, maybe you’d see him again at Christmas, and again at the baby’s first birthday party, and again and again on these little pocketed trips where you made no attempt to catch up, and instead accepted every inevitability of falling back into each other’s comfort. You’d sneak out and swim at sunset with him again, laugh about the little things that he remembered, and let him leave without a prolonged goodbye. He’d go back to his life and you’d stay in yours.

No.

Not this time, at least.

~~~

You’re not sure where you’re driving to when you first get in the truck, feeling out of place behind the wheel, your head pounding with the focus of getting to a place you had no idea about.

You drive around the road leading from the side of Sarah and John B’s house, winding down until it trails alongside the docks. It forces another snippet back into your memory - one of the hottest days on the island when a killer heatwave had swept over. Rafe had stolen the keys to his father’s speedboat and the two of you had gone out together. You’d gone as far out into the water that half of the fuel would take you and stayed out there all day. It was too hot and you’d overheated almost instantly on the dock of the boat, diminishing your food and drink supply too soon, diving off into the water and staying there until you could come up with a thousand reasons to go back. It was the last time you’d seen Rafe before you moved to college. You’d got back to the dock and an endless string of missed calls from James - telling you that you should’ve been home an hour ago. Rafe had smiled and told you to leave, saying goodbyes weren’t necessary.

That’s when you stop the car. And you get out without overthinking once again, shutting the door behind you. The sound awakens something in the seemingly empty space. And within seconds your eyes divert themselves directly to the barely visible along one of the old docks now half-covered with the overgrowing of reeds. He’s wearing a t-shirt, slightly stretched over the muscles of his back, hanging a little looser around his stomach. Without seeing his face, it could be the old version of himself - younger, less of a shadow of stubble around his jaw, less of that serious adult look about him. But it doesn’t take him long to turn around, as if he can practically feel you from even metres away from him.

“Let me guess, you want me to steal my father’s boat again?” He calls over to you, his words catching a little on the breeze before they reach you.

You don’t have it in you to humour him now - all you could think about was the empty space next to the couch, where his bag should have been. The bag that was now at his feet.

“You thought you were just going to leave?” You return, squinting against the sun to focus on him as you start to walk the length of the dock.

Rafe smiles a little and looks down at his feet, “Goodbyes have never been necessary.”

“Don’t give me that shit,” You jab back, stopping on the dock still further from him.

Your eyes focus on the wood beneath you - 18 planks between the two of you, feeling like it was now impossible to be any closer.

“Why were you going to go?” You swallow the lump in your throat, “Wh- why weren’t you going to tell me?”

He scratches a hand at the back of his head, his eyes not meeting yours, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“Say goodbye.”

“(Y/N),” Rafe winces, his eyes finally lifting to they meet yours.

“Look Rafe I-“

“I’m going back to New York,” He interjects, “My flight is today, I’m going back. You’ll be here and I’ll be there. Same as always.”

You swallow every word you’d thought of saying to him on the drive over, every thought that had cycled through your brain of how he would respond. None of that seemed to matter anymore.

“We’ll be five hundred miles away from each other again. It’s great being back here but my life isn’t in the Outer Banks anymore. I know you’re here again, but this place isn’t for me, there’s nothing for me here, I don’t want to stay here,” He clenches his jaw, “I-“

“You’re going,” You state coldly, wrapping your arms around yourself, “I get it. I just wanted you to say goodbye.”

Rafe swallows the lump in his throat, watching the way your face shifts away from him, how you practically recoil away. He’d never seen you respond like that to him, and it boils a sickening feeling in his stomach. He wants to reach out to you, to wrap his arms around you, to tell you to come with him, to tell him he’d stay here - to say anything that would remove every ounce of the hurt he’d just caused.

You keep your eyes on the planks between you, the eighteen spaces feeling further apart than ever now. This place isn’t for me. There’s nothing for me here. Is that really what he thought? Did he think of himself as the big shot city guy and you as the girl that had just come home to nothing? Was that all he could ever really think of you? Was that what he’d been thinking this entire week; that he’d outgrown you?

“You better get going if you want to make it to your flight in time,” You point out, “Wouldn’t want to miss it.”

You can feel his eyes on you and you glance up to find them glassy as he watches you, his hair falling down just slightly and casting shadows over his forehead. He swallows and it bobs his adam’s apple in his throat.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I guess I should,” He glances around his space and picks up the bag beside his ankles, shifting his grip around the handle, “(Y/N)…”

You keep your eyes on him and the focused gaze makes both of you silent. It’s like a thousand unspoken words float in the air between you, catching on the hot air and whisking away as soon as the breeze returns to cool them down. Rafe had been there when you needed him, like he always was. And when you’d first left for college, with James and a new future planned, you hadn’t thought about needing Rafe. When you’d come home, it was like a tiny battery charge if you got to see him - pieces of your youth returning. But you were living separate lives. And, now, as Rafe was leaving again, you felt like you still needed him.

That couldn’t be how things were. He couldn’t only exist in your space when you needed him. And that would be something you’d have to figure out on your own.

“Have a safe flight,” You smile, wrapping your arms around yourself and turning around.

You walk and you don’t look back, as much as each step tries to convince you to. You don’t. You can’t.

Part of you wants to hear his steps on the planks behind you, the sound of the bag thudding against the wood, the sound of him breathless, turning you around.

But he doesn’t.

You get further away and the air seems to get cooler, less dense. There’s a weight on your chest that doesn’t let up, but you force yourself to breathe in and breathe out once, twice, three times. If you could breathe without him, you’d be fine. If you could walk without him, you’d be fine. And, piece by piece, those things would all become possible, all without him.

~~~

It had been two weeks since Rafe had left. He hadn’t texted, though you’d overheard from Sarah that he’d landed safely and that he’d be back again in a few months.

The past two weeks had been full of doing things on your own, for yourself. And it had been flooded with realisation, decisions you wouldn’t have made before.

“What are you talking about? What do you mean?”

Sarah’s sat across from you next to John B, both of them dumbfounded at your announcement. He was sat back in his chair with his arms folded, her leaning forward with her hands on the kitchen counter in front of her, as if steadying herself.

“I’m moving to London,” You repeat, more sure of yourself than you’d been in a long time.

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” She shakes her head, “You’re just going?”

“What about the logistics of everything?” John B frowns, “Isn’t there stuff you have to think about with this?”

“Well, it’s only short term for now, so I could get all the visa stuff sorted just on short term, I’m moving into an Air BnB for the time being, and then I’ll decide if I want to move somewhere more permanent. But, right now, I just know I need to go,” You nod assertively, “And, you know, what’s wrong with London?”

“How long will you be gone for?” Sarah frowns, “It’s going to be so weird not having you here.”

“I know, but it’s only a flight away, right?” You encourage, “I’ll come back, I promise.”

“Why do you want to leave?” John B asks, looking at you as if it were a stranger in front of him.

“I’ve had my entire life planned out since I was like seventeen. I fell in love with James, I moved away with him, I graduated with him, I moved back here with him, everything in my life has been so determined. And he took that from me. And ever since then I’d been using the excuse of Rafe being here to stop me from actually admitting to anything that had happened,” You swallow the lump in your throat, “Rafe is important to me, and he always will be. But I can’t rely on him to piece me back together. And I can’t rely on you guys either. So, I need just a few months. Just to reset.”

Sarah takes a deep breath like she is finally accepting what you’ve said, “Okay, so you’re going to London. And you’re going to come back?”

“I’ll come back,” You encourage, “I just can’t be here.”

———

Taglist: @viianey @baby19sthings @tsokaro @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @starkeylover

[luboy7rt]

TeamWork. Cookies (Task Force 141 - Platonic

There was zero room in the kitchen to move about. John sighed as he exhaled smoke from his mouth out the window so the fire alarms didn't go off, he regretted taking his team to his home for a small break. At the moment Kyle and Johnny were trying a bullshit ‘recipe’ they found online, one to make a batch of chaotic’ cookies... It didn't smell or look good but Johnny promised It would all be okay and he wouldn't blow up John's kitchen.. Kyle made no promises. Simon was silently watching, as he sipped his tea, having had to ‘sneak’ around Kyle and Johnny to even make it… Or well Simon just pushed the two out of the way. John quietly flicked his cigarette, letting the ash fall into the small bowl as he watched the scene in front of him. 

“..I say we draw min’ figures of us lot onto it..!” Johnny huffed out, waiting to draw on the cookies.

“Ya have to actually make the cookies to do that, Johnny” Simon pointed out as he got comfortable on his seat to simply watch, crossing his legs his body a bit less on guard than usual, allowing him to watch his teammates cook.

“We don't have frosting.. so unless ya want Captain’ to get off his arse to go get it, you'll have to beg..! poor you.” Kyle was mixing whatever the hell he and Johnny had mixed up as John gave him a pointed look. He was letting them stay at his house, so why would he go shopping for them all.. for frosting so Johnny can make ‘mini’ thems.

“Probably wouldn’ even turn out too well…bloody hell” Simon himself sighed as he glanced off to the side, his mask still over the top half of his face, but he undercovered his mouth to enjoy his tea.. the only thing able of consumption in this kitchen, usually he wouldn’t but he was trying to relax, plus… No attention was on him with Johnny and Kyle fucking up cookies.

“Aye! What do ya mean, ‘m great at this, ya pieces of shite” Johnny huffed out as Kyle snickered as he tried to shape it into the pan.. making small cookie shapes to put it into the oven.. It was practically sticking to Kyle's hands. John was sure that it was hazardous material at this point, in all his years of service he has never seen that pile of shit before. As Johnny and Kyle have been adding and adding to whatever the hell It was meant to be.

Simon was sure he saw, sprinkles, chocolate chips, milk, Berries..? Bacon from breakfast, a carrot, nuts, and a few different butter brands as they had ran out of one and decided why not two? And other normal cookie recipe materials… But Simon was sure he saw Johnny add a few other things when Kyle wasn't looking.

“Perhaps you lads should stop now” Price warned, glancing around his messy kitchen as he sighed, taking a drag of smoke.. just for the smoke alarms To go off due to his smoking.. the wind having had pushed it inside instead of out the window. “Oh fuckin’ hell” 

“OH shit!” Johnny covered his ears as he hit one of the pans, making it fall on the floor... there goes patch four, the other three having had not made It this far In the cooking process.

“Soap..!” Kyle groaned as he tried to catch it, Simon simply sipped his tea.. moving to try and turn off the smoke alarm and get the smoke out.. and the one-half of the cookies in the oven from their first patch burnt as well... Basically everything went to shite and John never let his team back into his house after this… No way in hell was he letting them cook ever again.

[ivorydragoness44]

Jason Todd x Reader: The Trouble with Dough is

Word Count: 1,020 Warnings/Notes: angst, raw dough from baking, implied eating of some raw cookie dough, the Reader not having a great day but not specified, Jason being helpfully cautious until the Reader is feeling emotionally better. Kinda cute ending? Also, me using the word dough a lot. Summary: The Reader is making cookies, but it becomes a part of their not-so-great day. It’s not going according to plan, and they are having some difficulties with what should be a simple task. Jason arrives worried upon not hearing from the Reader and quickly accesses the situation and tries to help to the best of his abilities.

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

  The day, though bright and full of possibilities, was not exactly going how you would have hoped. You had woken up that morning in quite a good mood, but eventually it steered toward neutral until a bit of a low feeling hung on you. Everything was fine, but you just could not help but wish for more. Something better in a specific area or two of your life. Was that such a terrible thought?   Venturing over to the refrigerator, you were not entirely up for your self-given task. You took the large slab of cookie dough out of the fridge and set it down on the counter. You had forgotten how hefty it was. A decent thud reverberating off of the surface. Without a second shy of crinkles, you unwrapped the parchment paper.   You nearly hummed in approval of the dough’s texture. Gently touching a finger to it, you were pleased to see that it was not sticky at all. Perfect for rolling sizable amounts in your hands.   However, your emerging smile soon dropped as you pulled off a piece to begin your work. All too soon, the inner dough was all over your palms. You sighed and dropped the less than smooth ball of dough onto the pan just to the right. Good enough.   By the second one, you frowned. It was as though it was sticking more to your hands than itself. It was utterly ridiculous and goal crushing.

  Your cellphone rang far out of your reach. As if you could even touch it with the state of your hands.   The specific ringtone ended. Any other time, you would have raced to the phone, if it was not already within your grasp.

  Sliding your fingers one by one against a single index finger, you hoped to add the dough to itself rather than you. If only it worked out a little better. It did not hurt to try, but it was a little frustrating.   The oven clicked in its task of preheating. It would not take long by now, it only had to get up to three-hundred and fifty degrees. But you were not ready for it just yet.   Frowning at the thought, you did not even jump in the slightest at the faint sound of keys and the door knob rattling.   The front door flew open and shut just as quickly. But you hardly looked over to see Jason scan the room with a whip of his head.

  “Are you alright? You didn’t answer your phone,” he asked with a heaving chest.   You stared down at your hands, feeling the welling up of tears. “I’m not enjoying today,” you said quietly.   Jason approached slowly.   “The dough is sticky,” you said, trying to bit back the crack in your voice. “I had it in the refrigerator overnight.”  The oven beeped. Preheated and ready for the first batch. By the sound of it, you plopped the second half cup heap of dough onto the pan.   “Do you want me to put it in the oven?”   “If you don’t mind. I’d appreciate it,” you gave a weak smile.   Jason opened the oven door before grabbing the pan. “Horizontal?”   “Yeah.” Hearing the small clang and slide of the pan before he closed the oven door.   “Uh…”   “Twenty-four.”   “Got it,” he said, pushing the buttons for the timer. Jason turned to you then, a kind smile playing at his lips. “Do you need anything else? Like, soap?”   “Eventually,” you said, stepping over to the sink. There was likely enough dough on your palms to make a small cookie. You were not about to let that go down the drain.   “Can’t waste good dough.” Jason chuckled as you proceeded to remove the cookie dough from your thumb.

  When you finished your tasteful attempt at cleaning, Jason watching for a minute, you requested for soap. He made his way back over to turn on the facet.   Rubbing your palms together, you scrubbed off the majority of the dough before Jason squeezed a good dollop of soap onto your skin.   “Thank you,” you finally looked at him fully. His dark hair was disheveled, even a section of the white streak was sticking to his forehead.   He nodded, green eyes regaining their sparkle, and leaned down to kiss your shoulder softly. Afterwards, he stepped away from the kitchen to give you space. He did not go far. Not that he would.

  Once your hands were finally cleaned, you put the remainder of the dough back into the fridge. And that was how it went for the next batch, until the third and final was in the oven roughly an hour and a half later.   With the last two would-be cookies in the oven, you took the dough covered butter-knife and proceeded to scrape excess dough off of the original parchment paper. Nibbling on that until you were satisfied with the ‘cleanliness’ of the paper, you folded it in on itself and shoved it in a little trash bag.   “Be careful with that,” he advised.   You bit the small blob of dough off of the knife.   “Or do that,” he shrugged. Jason extended his hand to you, and you placed the knife in his grasp.   “Thank you,” you said, feeling progressively better with Jason home.   “You’re welcome,” he chuckled.

  He was kind enough to wash the few dishes that were piled neatly in the sink. Not that there were many, considering that you had done all of the blending of ingredients the day prior.

  “Not that I’m complaining, but why are you making cookies the size of my head?” Jason finally asked, looking down at the cooling racks.   “They’re for your sisters. For helping me out yesterday.”   “Oh,” he pressed his lips together in thought. “Can I still have one?”   “Yeah. There’ll be six once those two are done.”   The oven beeped and Jason smiled. “So, are we sharing the third or fighting for it?”   “I’ll split it in two or we can gift it to Alfred,” you offered, leaning against the counter.   Jason’s face lit up. “I think he’d like that.”

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Hi! Thank you for reading :) I hope you're doing well.

[demonslayedher]

Nezuko's Favorite: Konpeitou

It's time for Kimetsu Kitchen, and over-analyzing a tiny lore detail! And by tiny, I mean 1.5cm or smaller.

As already stated in the first fanbook, Tanjiro reminds us the Yuukaku Arc Taisho Secrets that Nezuko's favorite food is humans konpeitou, colorful tiny candies that are made almost entirely out of sugar. They are best known for their signature shape, with a bunch of bumps called "tsuno," that is... horns.

Aha, I see what you did there, Gotouge. So in that light, I'm not going to hold back wherever I see connections to Nezuko. First off, like Nezuko, konpeitou also comes in many fun sizes. Because of how the horns are formed with the candies bumping into each other and dripping onto the biggest protrusions, the candies have fewer and fewer horns as they get bigger.

We'll get into how they are made is a second, but first a brief history. Konpeitou, like castella and tempura, were introduced to Japan in the Sengoku period by the Portuguese missionaries. Warlord Oda Nobunaga was even presented with some earlier versions of this "confeit" that had anise at its core for a refreshing finish. However, after the missionaries were kicked out, they disappeared for a time, until Edo-period townspeople in Nagasaki (with access to trading with the Dutch) developed a pan-fried version, which they named 金平糖 (gold-even-sugar). Konpeitou were a rare treat accessible only the rich and powerful, such has the emperor using it for special occasions, until a new and easier method with rotating frying pans was patented in 1903. This was already 36 years into the Meiji period, and Nezuko would had been a toddler.

The first konpeitou factory opened in 1907 in Osaka, which is when they really took off as a wide-spread treat, including being sent abroad in soldiers' rations. The first ones were not flavored, they were purely made of granular sugar and sugar syrup (a mix of sugar and water, so yay, more sugar!), and they came in four different sizes. However, the first variations came when they made a mix of four basic colors to reflect the seasons: pink for cherry blossoms in spring, green for summer greenery, yellow for the autumn leaves, and white for winter snow.

(The closest example I saw to the colors Nezuko might had had available, don't mind those orange ones.)

Throughout the Taisho period they gradually gave way to more popular sweets like ice cream and chocolates, but when Nezuko was a 12-year-old likely around 1912~1913, these would had been widely available and popular.

So how are they made today? Still mostly in Osaka, there's only about 10 factories in Japan that produce them. But only about 5 in Portugal that do, so no wonder people assume they are a Japanese invention! Although you can still find them as purely sugar-flavored and some cafes likes to use them instead of sugar or sugar cubes, you can find them in a very wide variety of colors and flavors now. Basically, if it can be dissolved into syrup, you can color or flavor konpeitou with it.

Konpeitou starts with granular sugar, turned twice a minute in tilted frying pans that are 180cm across at 75 degress C. Every few minutes it gets coated with a scrap of syrup, which gradually makes the candy grow bigger and bigger. It sounds like a simple process, but it takes a lot of patience and practice to get the precise humidity, temperature, timing, and movement to attain a translucent appearance and smooth texture with a pleasing array of horns.

If there is one character in KnY who is extremely patient and can pour that sort of effort into developing something, it's Nezuko. Konpeitou grow only 1mm per day (so it takes two weeks to make a batch of large konpeitou), but that ongoing, dedicated growth is very auspicious, like... hmm. Like what the asanoha pattern on Nezuko's kimono symbolizes. I've always assumed the vines in Nezuko's demon crest symbolized the same thing.

Alright, now to turn this into a Kimetsu Kitchen blog. If you are in Osaka prefecture, you too can join a very brief konpeitou making class to add the finishing touches to a little batch of mostly-finished konpeitou! You get to choose the flavors and colors, and for extra money, you can even add edible gold flakes or get cute jars to put them in. I got to make two batches, one based on the color and flavor already in the first batch. I was concerned out pink and green might mix, so I went with pink followed by yellow for a nice nod to Zenitsu's efforts in Kimetsu Academy to give her the perfect konpeitou. However, I wound up with a nice shade of peachy orange like her hair, and I'm sure Zenitsu doesn't mind.

I call the flavor "drink bar" because I thought a non-pick flavor like melon would be ironic and I wound up with a mix of melon and cola. It's pretty good.

The base konpeitou was purely sugar flavored and white, but with tiny ladles of syrup with food coloring and flavor added and stirred about ten seconds at a time, the shape also gradually changed as the horns got more pronounced. It really is up to taste how little or how much you want to add, they're very versatile once the basics are formed.

[fandom-trash-xl]

Super-Gen Kiddos Headcanon Handful

Decided to pop out a batch of headcanons for the lovely little kid trio, Pan, Bulla, and Kuriza. Still sticking with Super-Gen Kiddos as their collective name although I do have a few other ideas like using their initials, PBK, then realizing it's sounds like PBJ and coming up with the cute little Peanut Butter and Chestnuts. Always open to hear thoughts and get asks about them.

Also, I'm getting timelining and stuff figured out, so I thought I'd lay out birthday months and stuff too.

(SON) PAN

Birthday: Early May, Age 779 (Taurus)

Pan enjoys going to get her hair cut. She likes her hair fairly short and she gets uncomfortable if her hair is too long for too long. One time, she tried to get Bulla to cut her hair with a pair of craft scissors under the guise of them playing hair salon- both got in trouble.

With Gohan as a father, a lot of big scientific words get thrown around in the house. She'll attempt to use them herself and often mispronounces them with absolute confidence.

Pan inherits her Grandpa Goku's smile.

BULLA (ESCHALOT BRIEF)

Birthday: Early October, Age 780 (Libra)

Bulla's middle name was a consolation for Vegeta not getting his chance at a Saiyan name. If he had gotten his way with the first name, she would've been Eschalot II, the first Eschalot being his late mother, Queen Vegeta. Unfortunately, Bulla doesn't have good associations with the name, as 90% of the time it's used, she's in trouble.

While Bulla is the type to want to keep her pretty little dresses and jumpers free of dirt, she can also be the type to be absolutely rough if she's having enough fun. She's scraped elbows and knees and occasionally chipped or lost teeth from not paying attention to where she's going and tripping over herself. What sets her apart from tomboy Pan is the quarter-Saiyan is mindful of her limits, while Bulla can be plain stubborn.

(YOUNG LORD) KURIZA

Birthday: Late February ("Second Month of the First Galactic Quarter" in space), Age 782 (Pisces)

Technically, Kuriza does have a traditional Arcosian name (in other words, a cold pun) but the once half-serious little nickname of "Kuriza" (chestnut Frieza) became so embedded in even Frieza's mind that the initial name has been practically lost to time and old documents. It's unknown if Kuriza even knows his real name.

Kuriza often has trouble talking at points (losing his voice or going non-verbal), but he knows how to sign to get communication across. Bulla knows how to as well (thank goodness for plot convenience galactic standards) simply as something she learned in schooling, so she can understand and respond back. Pan doesn't however and thinks the two are communicating in some secret code behind her back.

Kuriza is somewhat of a savant in a few regards, not only in terms of his latent ki abilities, but he also reads very well and very quickly from a young age.

Kuriza has a feeling that the Briefs' cat, Scratch, doesn't like him, as the cat quietly growls at him when he passes by. The same thing happens with Frieza, so there may be some connection.

WITH EACH OTHER

Pan can lift Kuriza off the ground a bit to help him see over things as a little height boost. She usually doesn't wait for an answer if he actually wants the help.

Bulla feels bad for Kuriza not having a traditional Earth childhood like she does (ex. for awhile, Kuriza's birthday isn't celebrated with much fanfare back in space; Bulla's sure to help change that), so she often gives him presents when she finds out something she considers sad that he's missing out on- stuff like manga, toys, etc. from her own room, on an absolute whim.

The sets of visual encyclopedias that Gohan bought for Pan have travelled full circle through the friend group. Bulla borrows them because she likes the illustrations of "pretty things" like flowers, butterflies, stars, etc., then they end up lent to Kuriza to sate his little Earth science fascinations. Eventually, they make their way back to the Son household.