#ITS ABOUT COOKING FOR PEOPLE UNTIL THEY WANT TO SUCK YOU SILLY

[carfuckerlynch]

it’s called a head of garlic cause if u use it right. well

[sporadicthingcollection]

The Unskinny Bop (Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: You're a really good cook and that's most of the problem. The rest of it is that he's too weak-willed to resist a treat right in front of him. Pairing: Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: 🌶 Explicit 🌶 Word Count: ~6.1k Warnings: Body insecurity (male and female), cunnilingus, masturbation, PiV sex A/N: Dad Bod Buggy my beloved

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She's playing all night And the music's all right Mama's got a squeeze box And Daddy never sleeps at night

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It's his own damn fault, really.

He's the one who charmed the pretty diner cook — that’d be you — into joining his crew. It was an easy sell. You get off of the little podunk island you’re stuck on and he gets those delicious little puffy pastry things every morning.

What he didn’t expect was how well you made everything else. He's had to let his pants out three times in two months because of it.

Fluffy pancakes, perfectly slung hash, and a pie-looking thing with eggs and vegetables and cheese you called a “keesh” for breakfast. Sandwiches stuffed with veggies and meat, piles of pasta tossed in rich sauce, and thick slabs of juicy steak for dinner. Not to mention the mountains of snacks and treats in between.

He came to realize that food is a key aspect of your personality. It's just what you do. A dog chases its tail, Richie pushes things off of tables, and you flit around the deck like a pastry pixie, abducting people into the galley for taste-testing. 

Like right now.

His only warning that you're coming is a chirped “Captain!” before he's yanked through the door. He doesn't even have time to react before you've shoved a spoonful of something into his mouth.

He's not surprised. You do it to everyone who walks in. Food is how you show affection.

“Whaddya think?” you ask.

He swallows it too quickly to make a judgment, but it's sweet and that's all he needs to know. “Tasty.”

Every time you smile, he swears a flashbulb goes off somewhere. “Good,” you say. “It'll be even better tomorrow.”

He doesn't even bother to hide the whine. “What?”

“They're icebox pies, silly goose,” you say. “You gotta let ‘em chill.”

Another thing about you is that you're a tease. Form-fitting blouses done up just a button too short and your hair pulled back to show off your soft shoulders. A sweet little wink and a touch of the shoulder as you place a plate in front of him. And now feeding him something delicious only to tell him he has to wait until tomorrow to have more.

Your fingers snapping in front of his face jolt him back to the present. “Huh?”

“I asked if you wanted to lick the spoon,” you say.

Does he wanna lick the spoon? What kind of question is that? He plucks it from your hands. “Is the sky blue? Do bears shit in the woods? Am I the captain?”

You roll your eyes, but you smile. “Gonna stick these in the big cooler and I'll be right back for the other,” you say.

Carefully, you pick up two of the three foil-covered pie tins resting on the counter and turn on your heel.

He watches you closely as you round the corner and out of sight. Such a nice soft ass you've got. He desperately wants to grab it, but the one time you got goosed, you slugged the guy so hard he was out cold for the rest of the day.

Something pink, creamy, and flecked with seeds coats the wooden spoon. He drags his tongue along the back of it and--

Oh. Oh, that is good.

His taste buds scream in ecstasy. The slightest little moan escapes his lips. For the briefest of moments, he thinks it's better than sex and his cock twitches, but he regains his sense of self before going completely mad.

He licks and licks and licks until every little drop of pink, sweet, creamy filling is gone.

Frustration bubbles in his chest. Waiting all night for this is gonna suck. Especially since you probably won't be whipping it out for breakfast.

He is captain, though. He could order you to give it to him. But you'd almost certainly laugh in his face and he really, really doesn't want that.

The shimmer of foil catches his eye. The third pie sits on the counter. Untouched. Uneaten. Mocking him in its creamy deliciousness.

He looks around. You're nowhere to be seen.

...maybe just a little bit.

He scrapes barely half a spoonful from the top. Not enough to be noticeable, just enough to satisfy his sweet tooth.

Mmm. Smooth. Thick. Sweet. Fruity. Delicious.

...a little bit more can't hurt. Then he can wait until tomorrow.

He gets a piece of the fruit itself this time and the squirt of juice on his tongue is enough to make him spoon up another dollop. And then another. And then another.

This is why your pants are so tight, his inner monologue chides. This is why you need a new belt. This is why you wear that thing around your waist. Goddamn hedonist.

They're not that tight, he retorts. And they wouldn't be at all if you weren't such a damn good cook. It's all your fault for putting delicious food in front of him and looking so pretty while doing it.

He turns to lean against the counter, only to stop dead.

You're standing there, eyes wide and brows raised. You point at him, then at the pie tin, then back at him. “Are you... Eating the...?”

“No,” he says quickly. He realizes he's holding the pie tin. “No.”

Something odd glints in your eyes as you approach him. Gingerly, you take the pie and the spoon from his hands. He lets you. You step even closer.

You're so close to him, close enough for him to feel the rise and fall of your breasts. Hell, you're so short compared to him that he can see straight down your shirt.

His heart races. What are you going to do? Throw it out? Throw him out? Punch his lights out? Never speak of this again? 

To his amazement, you do none of those things. Instead, you spoon up a bit more of the pie filling and raise it to his lips. You blink up at him with big doe eyes.

He looks between you and the spoon a few times. This can't be right. You should be furious. He opens his mouth to say something, but it's forgotten as you shove the spoon in his mouth.

Why are strawberries so delicious? Why is he so weak? Why are your breasts so warm and squishy against him?

He swallows it and, as he opens his mouth to breath, you shove another spoonful in. It's just as good the twentieth time.

You offer him another. And another. And another. He accepts them all.

Until he goes to take another and you pull it away. He frowns at you. You pull it back farther and farther. He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand closer. You resist, but he's spent every day of his life trimming sails and hauling cargo.

He gets the spoon into his mouth and claims his prize with a smirk.

That glint in your eyes turns into a blaze. You drop the pie tin and spoon and they hit the floor with a clatter. Pulling your wrist from his grip, you grab him by the cheeks and yank him into a kiss.

He yelps against your lips and you take the opportunity to shove your tongue between them. Licking, lapping, pressing your soft, warm body right up against his.

Only a eunuch could resist this.

He kisses you back with the same fervor, grabbing your ass to lift you up a bit and it's so soft and pliant and perfect that he can't help but dig his fingers in.

Oh, it's everything he dreamed it would be. Your warm lips moving against his, your slick tongue dancing in his mouth, your soft palms gripping his jaw.

You've lapped up all the lingering sweetness in his mouth by the time he runs out of breath. He pushes you away and you whimper, your eyes wide and your shoulders heaving up and down.

Deprived of oxygen, he says something completely, absolutely, utterly brain dead. “Can I touch your tits?”

Instead of slapping him, you nod so hard your updo shakes loose. Curly strands fall in your face.

He blinks. “Wait, really?” You nod harder. “You sure?”

Something in you snaps. He can see it in your eyes. You grab him by the hand and damn near drag him out the door.

A quick trip up the stairs and across the main deck and he's pushing open the door to his quarters. You bustle past him and, once the click of the lock sounds, you grab him by the collar and yank him into another kiss, just as wet and desperate as the last.

He barely has enough time to shuck his coat about you throw him onto the bed, clambering atop him. You're a bit heavier than he expects. Not that he says that to your face, but you’re so light on your feet that he was starting to think you were filled with cotton candy. You're certainly sweet enough.

You yank his hat from his head and toss it aside. His bandana follows and his hair falls around his shoulders.

You suck in a breath. “So pretty.”

He shrugs. “Thanks-- mmph.”

He’s silenced by you standing on your knees to pull his hair out of its pigtails. This requires you to stick your tits in his face and oh my god they're like big marshmallows you smell like cinnamon.

He can't help himself. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in closer, breathing deeply. So warm, so soft.

You giggle and the vibration makes his face tingle. You pull away to fiddle with your blouse buttons. “Wanna know a secret?” you whisper.

“Is the secret boobs?” Wow, what the hell was that? He needs to stop talking.

Lucky for him, you grin. You open your blouse and a whole lot more than he was expecting spills out. You toss the blouse to the side and plant your hands on your hips. “Va-va-voom.”

He's speechless. Shaken. Struck utterly dumb by the sight before him. All he can do is pull off his gloves and take them in his hands, pushing them, weighing them, squeezing them. There’s just… so much. Round, squishy, bouncy, threatening to surge right out of your lacy bra.

“I am but one man,” he mumbles.

That makes you giggle and that makes them jiggle. Like two sacks of...like a pair of...

...he can't think of a metaphor that isn't unpleasant, so he just sticks his face in there again before something else stupid comes out of his mouth. You laugh even more and it vibrates against his cheeks and his -- that... -- and if God struck him down at this very second he would die a happy man.

You let him linger a moment before throwing your weight forward to push him onto the bed. He whimpers like a kicked puppy as you pull away.

You nibble your lip and knit your brow up as you fumble with his belt. “I showed you mine, now you show me yours.”

He's flattered, but it's the only thing keeping his stomach in check. That can't come off yet.

He takes your hands in his own. “What's the rush, beautiful?” he says. He brings them to his lips, first one, then the other. He gently kisses your knuckles, your palms, your wrists. “This is your show. We got all night.”

You're cute when you huff. You're even cuter when your face screws up into a pout. You yank your hands away and plant them on your soft hips. “Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for this?” you whine.

That throws him for a loop and a half. You've wanted him too? Someone as clever and cute and talented as you wanted... him? He's not used to that. Not used to that at all.

He's stunned just long enough for you to get his belt open. You move on to his vest straps next, making quick work of those. He sucks his stomach in just as you pull it open.

Your eyes widen, and you break into a grin as they sweep up and down his torso. “Oh, hell-o,” you say, voice breathless.

He's bright red, he just knows it. “Hi,” he replies dumbly. He hopes the strain in his voice isn't too obvious.

You grin even wider. Your fingers ghost up his sides -- thank God it's his feet that are ticklish -- right up to his pecs. You give them a squeeze, not unlike how he palmed your breasts a few moments ago. The slightest of squeaks escapes him.

“I knew you were hiding something good,” you say. You give his nipples a tweak -- he squeaks louder -- and trail your fingers down to his waistband. “Let's see what else you've been keeping from me.”

He knows you're talking about his dick. He panics all the same.

He shoots a hand out to kill the light -- that should buy him some time -- and throws his weight into flipping you over. You squeal as he pins you to the bed and yanks your pants off.

And then he realizes. Your breasts? They're proportional.

Beneath him is the most lovely expanse of body he's ever seen. Soft and warm and squishy and made of convex curves that flow from gentle arms and smooth shoulders right into a pair of plump hips and shapely thighs.

He can't form words. He can't form thoughts. All he can do is stare with his mouth dropped open. What else can you do when you're in the presence of the divine?

And then he sees your face. Your eyes wide and unsure as they dart around the room. Your lips pressed together into a terse line. 

“What?” he asks.

The line scrunches to the side. “I'm bigger than I ought to be, I know,” you say. You sound as if you've said it a thousand times.

He gets mad. He can't help it. It's what he does. “Are you shitting me?”

You flinch a little, though more out of surprise than fear. “N-No, I don't--”

He wants to say so many things. About how this is perfection. About how you are the most gorgeous human being he's ever laid eyes on. About how this is everything he's ever wanted in life. How you're everything and you shouldn't be so damn sheepish.

But he can't get it out. All that comes out is a raspy, rude, “Shut the fuck up.”

You stare at him in shock. And not the fun shock. It's the kind where you're not sure if you've stepped on eggshells or not.

Fuck it. No time for words. He grabs your thighs and pulls you forward, yanking your panties off and sweet holy shit you don't shave down there how could you possibly be any more perfect?

His mouth waters. His cock throbs. He dives in. He drags his tongue up your inner thighs, soft and smooth and sweet as that pie.

“Captain--!” A nip to the tender flesh turns the exclamation into a squeak.

“I said shut up,” he says between kisses.

Finally, you stop talking. You only pant and moan as he shoves his face into your pussy, lapping at your already sopping cunt. Did he do this? Are you this wet because of him?

He can't help it. He stuffs his hand down the front of his pants to fondle himself. Like the desperate bastard he is, his cock’s hard and leaking already.

He grinds against his palm as he gorges himself on you. Licking, sucking, swirling, punctuating with a few nips for good measure. It's all harmonized by the most beautiful sounds he's ever heard flowing from your lips, high-pitched and whiny.

He's not sure how long has passed when you grab his head and push him away. Time flows strangely between your thighs.

You've got a crazed look in your eyes again. “I want you inside me.”

He wants to say something clever, something cool and on brand for him, like it's not time for the finale yet or but my leading lady isn't satisfied.

But that would delay being inside you and he's too addled to think of anything. He jumps to his feet and wriggles out of his trousers and shorts. If he were more aware of himself, he'd be humiliated by just how much he has to shimmy and dance around to get them off his hips, but there's not enough blood in his brain to be self-conscious.

He kicks them away in whatever direction. Something crashes to the floor and he doesn't care. He looks back to your beautiful face--

You're wide-eyed as you look at him. He follows your gaze, right down to his--

In all the excitement, he's not sucking it in anymore.

Now it's his turn to be sheepish. He sucks it in again. But he can't hold it. Too much blood in his cock. He tries again with the same result.

Unfortunately for him, it's drawn your attention even more. Off comes your bra, and you don't take your eyes off his stomach the whole time.

Now he really can't think anymore. They're just so pretty and perfect. You're so pretty and perfect. He doesn't deserve this. This is a hell of a mismatch if ever there was one. You, divinity in the flesh. Him, a fat, dirty old clown.

This is a joke. It has to be. Someone put you up to this and now you're gonna back out and he's gonna let you because you deserve better so he better just rip the bandage off now and--

“Out,” he spits. “Get out.”

You blink at him in shock, then your face hardens. You speak with the firmness of a queen who's sick of her courtiers’ bullshit. “Get over here and get on top of me.”

You're mocking him. You gotta be. There’s no other explanation. “I said--”

You look him in the eyes. Something dangerous glitters there. “Buggy, get the fuck on top of me.”

It comes out at a hoarse yell. “Stop mocking me!”

You spring upwards and, with that wild strength that surprises him every time, you throw him on the bed. It squeaks as he bounces -- actually, that might have come from him.

You've got a look on your face he can only describe as murderous. “I did not wait two months for you to chicken out,” you say. You clamber onto him. “I did not wait two fucking months for you to finally man up and say something only for you to get self-conscious!”

Fear, anger, and arousal battle for control of his body. Arousal wins. You are hot as a griddle when you're mad.

You sit yourself on his belly, just above his cock. It twitches against your ass and he's sure it's made of clouds and he groans.

“Look at me,” you say.

He doesn't. He can't. He doesn't want to see the scorn that's surely in your eyes.

You learn forward and grab his chin, squeezing his cheeks and forcing him to look. Even in the dim light, he can see the sheen of sweat on your face and the rise and fall of your chest as you pant.

“If you want me to leave, I will,” you say, “but you will never get this chance again.”

No. No no no no. He wants you. He wants you so bad. He's never had perfection this close and it's never wanted him as much as you seem to.

“Do you want me to leave?” you ask firmly.

He shakes his head so hard it hurts.

You don't grin. You simply release his chin and lift yourself up. You lower yourself on his cock and, as he watches it disappear, inch by slick inch into your hot, wet pussy, the battle is over.

He doesn't care if this is a trick anymore. He's going to get his.

He grabs your thighs and pulls you down onto him, fingers sinking into the smooth flesh. You gasp as he bottoms out, gripping the swell of his hips. He doesn't care. They're called love handles for a reason.

And then you start to bounce.

It starts in your legs. Pumping your thighs to lift yourself up and drop down onto his cock. The jolt ripples through your whole body, from your thighs to your belly to your breasts.

He's transfixed. So transfixed that he doesn't even notice you grabbing his pecs, squishing and squashing them between your gentle fingers. You tweak his nipples and he damn near howls.

He can't let you have all the fun. He pops his hand off to swirl his fingers around your clit.

But you don't cry out or moan. You start babbling. Something about eating and how hot he is and how much you love that he loves your cooking and it's all interspersed with pleasant-sounding gibberish. But he doesn't hear a word of it. You're too warm and slick and it goes in one ear and it the other.

But the sounds. God, the sounds of him sliding in and out of you. Wet and disgusting and it makes his mouth water and his cock leak and that just makes it wetter--

The slap of skin on skin and wet on wet and his moans and your chattering all mingle into a delicious symphony. 

But it stops all too soon. Your breath hitches and you bend at the waist, singing his name like a songbird, the same little melody over and over. “Buggy, Buggy, Buggy...!”

His name dissolves into little yips and gasps as your cunt flutters around his cock. It's so good. Better than treasure. Better than adrenaline. Better than a full belly after a hard day's work--

He realizes he's not wearing a condom. Fuck. “Where ya want it?” he grunts.

You don't hesitate. “In me,” you say between gasps.

In you? Inside you? Spilling his hot, wet cum into your hot, wet cunt? Your cunt? Soaking it? Seeding it? Making it even messier and sloppier and filling you up so much that--

He almost pops right then and there, but he bites his lip. “Nuh-uh. Where?”

“In me!” you spit.

He whines the most unmanly of whines. He will. He won't. He wants to. He can't. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Captain,” you whimper, “Buggy, please...”

He looks up at you. Your hands on his chest, your breasts heaving with each breath, your little belly rising and falling, your luscious thighs on either side of his hips, your lips dropped open as you pant, your bush surrounding his fingers--

God damn it.

He throws you to the side as he pops like a champagne cork. A few drops end up on you, but most of it splatters onto the underside of his belly, where it's started obeying gravity.

One hand grips the sheets and the other grips something warm and his hips buck and his head swims and his mouth makes utterly pathetic noises. Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes.

He crashes back to earth like a meteor strike. All he can see is white as he flops back onto the mattress, gasping for breath.

He has no idea how long it takes for him to recover. But something soft tickles the knuckles of his detached hand. A shudder racks him as he turns his head towards you.

Post-orgasm haze still clouds your eyes, but they're big and round as a doe’s as you cradle his hand close to his face. You press your lips to his knuckles.

He gives a weak smile. “Hi.”

You giggle. God, he loves that giggle. He wishes he could hear it every day. He'd put it in a sea shell if he could, carry it around in his pocket and press it to his ear whenever he feels lonely. Or spin it into cotton candy. It's certainly light and sweet enough. Or whip it up onto a foam and fold it into batter like he watched you do that one time for cake...

His stomach growls. He needs to stop thinking about food.

You kiss his knuckles again, still smiling so very sweetly. “Are you alright?”

“Fuckin’ amazing,” he mumbles. It's the truth.

Detaching his other hand, he feels around on the floor. There's a towel here somewhere... Unless he threw it on the chair... Or over the folding screen...

He finds it slung over the door of his wardrobe. He offers it to you, but you shake your head. “After you.”

Suit yourself. He mops his belly up as you watch. Shit, this was a big one.

Satisfied, he tosses the towel away. He rolls over to take you in his arms, but he finds nothing. You're standing up, pulling his coat on and closing it around your front.

“Get over here,” he says. “That's an order.”

“I gotta clean up,” you say.

He panics. He can't help it. His voice quivers like a child's. “Don’t leave. Please.”

You give him a kind look that almost makes him cry. “I’ll be right back,” you coo. “I promise.”

He doesn't want to be alone. Not now. Tears prick at his eyes and his lip quivers. But you're out the door before he can stop you.

You're not coming back. He knows it. He disappointed you. How could he not? You're beautiful. You're divine. You're perfect.

And what is he? A fat old clown.

He lays there, shivering in the cold air, too afraid to move. Too aware of his shortcomings. Too aware of every flaw, every defect, every deficiency. His temper. His teeth. His nose. His appetite. His everything.

The door opens. The moonlight frames your silhouette for a moment before you close the door behind you.

He nearly sobs with relief. You don't notice, thankfully, as you shuck his coat.

He launches his arms at you as he sits upright, pulling you into an embrace as he falls back down. He lays you to the side, slipping under your arm and tucking his head in the crook between your chin and chest.

You thread your fingers through his hair. “Don't tell me you thought I wasn't coming back.”

He murmurs something he forgets as soon as it leaves his lips. You're so soft. So warm. So comfortable. And he's so exhausted.

You giggle. You kiss his forehead and slide your fingers through his hair. “Bonwee, sha.”

He has no idea what that means, but you say it with such warmth that it must be something good. He snuggles up close to you.

Rocked by the sea and calmed by your heartbeat, he drifts off.

---

He sleeps well, but he stirs a few times.

The first is when you shift out from under him, mumbling something in a language he can't place. You roll onto your side, your back to him. He doesn't like that at all and pulls you in to be the little spoon. You squeak. It's cute. He doesn't care that his belly presses against your back. 

He stirs again when his arm falls asleep and he rolls onto his side. You follow him this time. You press yourself right up against his back, breasts and belly and thighs squishing against him. You're so warm.

The final time is as the gray light of dawn slips through the windows. He's shaken from a dream and he grumbles.

“I gotta go get started on breakfast,” you whisper. “Just wanted to let you know I wasn't lovin’ and leavin’.”

That's so sweet of you. “You're so sweet,” he mumbles sweetly.

You giggle. “See you in a few hours.”

You kiss the tip of his nose and he's not even upset.

===

You had a lovely night, but you're walking a bit funny and it's making your usual bustling around the galley just difficult enough to be annoying. And the visions of your stark naked captain filling your head are making it even harder.

You're a very simple woman, like your mother before you. You like men. You like food. You like men who like food. You especially like men who like your food.

Captain Buggy's a man. Captain Buggy likes food. And he loves your food, if his constant hovering in the galley is anything to go on. And he loves it a lot and it's showing.

The memory of him lying beneath you, his warm hips against your thighs, his belly wobbling as you bounce atop him, his head thrown back in bliss, surprises you just as you're tossing a flapjack. It slams into the ceiling and stays there.

Your fellow cook, a swarthy fellow going by Bloomer, casts the new ceiling decor an odd look. He turns it on you. “You alright, girl?”

You know what? Screw this. Everyone else can handle breakfast. “I'm gonna go wake up the captain,” you say. “How's he like his coffee?”

Milk and two cubes of sugar, he tells you. You put in cream and three cubes. Man's gotta get his strength back from last night, you tell yourself as you set off across the deck. 

You knock three times on the door. No answer. You knock harder. Still nothing. You take that as a sign he may be dead and enter just in case.

Captain Buggy is, in fact, quite alive, if not also naked. He's in front of the mirror... or his face is, anyways. His body is turned completely around as he examines the reflection of his rear. He grabs a handful, thick fingers sinking into the squish. He gives it a jiggle and it wobbles.

You don't blame him. It's a great ass. Perfect for grabbing and digging your nails into. Next time, you're making him get on top so you can do just that. 

But you prefer his front. That's where all the good shit is. Soft, muscular pecs, perfect for grabbing and groping, covered in a dusting of hair that trails down to his soft belly.

His hands go there next, pinching his sides. He gives them a shake and his belly bounces. 

That little zing shoots up your gut and into your throat, that one you always get around men like him. That same one as when you first saw him from across the diner, draining a pitcher of beer. The same one you had last night when you walked in on him eating pie filling. And now, watching him preening after a wild romp.

...or you thought he was preening. He turns his body around and as his hands go to his face -- he's got a stronger jawline than you'd expected when he's barefaced -- you notice his laugh lines deepen. He lets out a grunt of disgust as his lips curl.

You frown. He's saying ugh as if you couldn't keep your hands off of him last night. Coaxing him in closer with pie filling just so you could feel his body molding against yours. Grabbing his cheeks and yanking him in for a kiss you'd been craving for months. Dragging him to his cabin and fucking yourself on him while you dug your nails into whatever soft flesh you could grab.

You close the door with a firm check of the hips. The slam startles him, but he calms as he sees you. Somewhat. There's still an uneasy look in his eye.

“G’morning,” he says. A little blush blooms across his cheeks. He avoids eye contact.

He'd be cute if he wasn't pathetic. You set the coffee down on the nearest surface and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your hands on the swell just above his hips and resting your cheek between his shoulder blades.

“Thank you for finally taking the hint,” you say into his skin.

He chuckles, a low, vibrating thrum. “I never miss a cue, baby.”

Lies. You've been trying everything. Flirting. Making his favorite food. You even went braless one day on a supply run with him and he didn't even blink. Idiot.

“Then why'd it take you so damn long?”

He scoffs. “Had to make sure I wasn't seeing things,” he mumbles.

He's so pathetic. Like a wet cat. You can't help but squeeze his sides--

He jumps away from you like you gave him an electric shock. “Stop it!” he spits.

You blink. “Stop what?”

“Stop-- Stop mocking me!”

You blink a few more times. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

The flush deepens along with his scowl. “Quit touching me like that.”

Not what he was saying last night. “Like what?”

“Stop grabbing my--” He huffs. “I know I’m fat. Quit rubbing it in.”

Pardon? Did you hear that correctly? Does he know who he's talking to? You try to keep your tone even, but you were never good at that. “Permission to speak freely, Captain?”

He blanches. “...No.”

Too bad. You grab him by the waist and throw him onto the bed. He yelps as he bounces, then once again as you straddle his waist.

“Buggy. Darling. Cher,” you say. “Do you really think I would have fucked you if I didn't think you were hot shit?”

He simmers like a boiling pot with the lid still on. “Maybe!”

Pour l’amour de Dieu, c’est un contraieuse et un tête de cabri et pourquoi ce clown so fucking stupid?

You scoot backwards, kissing your way down his chest. Each one gets a tiny grunt from him until you get to his belly. He growls and tries to roll away, but you hold fast. You gently kiss just above his navel, then the tuft of blue hair right below it.

You peer up at him. He peers back, brow knit up, questioning you.

You press your face into his navel and blow a raspberry against his skin.

Buggy squeal-laughs. You've never heard him make that noise before and it's very cute. You do it again and he devolves into laughter.

“Sto-o-op!” he cackles.

You do not. You do it again and again until he's wheezing and not scowling any more. You stare up at him, fingering the tuft of hair below his navel.

He comes down slowly, cackles turning to giggles to breathless gasps. He finally sees you staring. “What?”

“Feeling better?” you ask. He huffs, but he does nod. “Good. Now stop being mean to my favorite captain.”

He frowns a bit at that. “Who’s that? Alvida? When'd she come up?” You keep staring at him. He blinks. “Wait, you mean--?”

Gros couillion. “No, the other guy I fucked last night,” you say. He bristles. Fuck’s sake. “Yes, you!”

He blinks again. The flush returns. “You mean that?”

“I wouldn't be on top of your naked-ass body if I didn't.” You place lean in close, the tip of your nose bumping his. “And you have a very nice body, Captain.”

Just for emphasis, you grab his side, right at the fleshiest part, and give a hard squeeze. He jumps, but nods.

He tries to dive in for a kiss, but you pull away. If you do that, you'll be here all morning. You stand up, offering him your hands. “C’mon, breakfast is ready,” you say.

“I'm not hungry.” His stomach growls. He glares at it. “Shut up.”

Trump card time. “Guess I'll just have to feed all those beignets to Richie, then.”

His eyes go wide. “...you made bin-yays?”

He still can't pronounce it right, but he's getting there. “Sure did,” you say coolly. You examine your nails. “Won't be good for much longer.”

His stomach growls again. “And that pie?” 

“Should be good to go, but you better be quick. They'll go fast.”

He jumps to his feet and licks his lips. “Well, keep some for me! Lemme-- Lemme get dressed and I'll be right down.”

“Don't take too long,” you say.

You turn to leave, but he grabs your hand. With a yank and a twirl, he pulls you flush against him and into a kiss.

You melt right into it. Rough lips move against yours, his warm body molds against you, strong arms holding you tight, belly pressing against yours... his nose squishing into your cheek. Wonderful, all of it.

You separate with a pop. He grins at you and wipes his wrist along his lips. “Didn’t think I was gonna let you leave without that?”

You blush. Now he decides to be slick. “Just get dressed.”

You twirl him around and, with a flat hand, you swat his ass. Just to see it quiver. The slap echoes in the small room and he jumps, but you can't stick around to see the look on his face.

You've got work to do.

---

Special thanks to my bf, Meg, and Ollie for beta-ing!

To the Mastahpost | To the Tip Jar

[robotsafari]

i will literally never be over the kh pilot. everyone has already moved on. wow what a cool novelty. sucks that it got canceled. okay im just going to never think about this ever again lalala~ (or its weird. or the art is bad. or its got too many inaccuracies. whatever.)

but me? no. im insane. this thing is too insane and amazing to just end the conversation about it. i will always think about this thing. i will always think about the massive loss the kh community never even knew they had until recently.

while i will never know what the full creative vision was. this pilot tells us that THEY. WERE. COOKING. they lean into the fact that sora is just a kid, (SOME FANS FORGET THIS) and he now faces this burden of being a hero when all he really wants is to see his friends again. the !! even though its just a pilot and riku was probably put in agrabah just so they can introduce him to the audience. i would’ve LOVED more riku encounters. traverse town, neverland and monstro were great. but in my opinion? not enough! though the only thing i would fear riku’s more frequent appearances would do is distract from some of the disney stuff (you dont wanna get rid of it. but you dont want it to take over. its a delicate balance) so maybe use him a lil sparingly but god. put him in more situations, okay?

while kairi plays a more proactive role in kh1 and thats fine (shes not useless. i hate when people call her that) i still would’ve LOVED more scenes with her. whether it was in destiny islands or near the end of game. im just liek YES !! you go girl. prolong the heartless sora segment if ya have to. do it for her. it would’ve been fun to see kairi and sora hollow bastion hijinks. waauughh please kairi my good friend kairi. liek. what we’ve seen of kairi in the pilot was already awesome. kh2 hadn’t even come out but the energy has always been there guys. she wants to take an active role and she hates sitting back!! love that the pilot wanted to give you a glimpse of this by having her kick a damn shadow in the faceee!!! you will always be famous forever kairi god bless.

my good friends donald and goofy. wtf did nomura do to you. one liek = preyer for teh toons /silly. yeah so liked how their fighting was actually toony in the pilot. goofy literally beating all the heartless while knocked out and donald getting messed with by a shadow like a typical donald short is just perfect (THINKS REAL HARD ABOUT HOUSE OF MOUSE.) and ofc!! the heart’s there too!! donald and goofy are so sweet to sora!! THEYRE HIS DADS. they’ve done playful ribbing to sora in the games, and thats not exactly a bad thing.. but sometimes i feel like it gets TOO MUCH. ESPECIALLY IN KH3 GOOD LORD. donald and goofy are sweet. yes donald. hes only gets mad because people mess with him. if you’re nice to him hes super sweet. some playful teasing from donald is okay, but too mean or too much and then its not him. mickey has a pretty minor appearance in kh1 unfortunately but omfg. if i rant about how nomura writes him then we’d be here for a while. the real mickey would not have left aqua in the realm of darkness. just know this, okay? idgaf if you don’t believe me.

it’s confirmed maleficent possessed riku in that scene. you know the one. someone said riku was lying.. NUMBER ONE. his eyes turned completely white and idk about you but thats liek. the textbook sign of being fucking possessed. riku didnt know wtf was going on!! just just grabbed the lamp and suddenly things happened! im sure it was supposed to be interpretive, yes, but the dialogue and visuals suggested possession and also kearsley confirmed it himself on deviantart. (you can search it up yourself) NUMBER TWO. maleficent asks riku if sora believed him. implying that she wants to use riku to manipulate sora. imagine if she used this possession again, in more subtle ways. riku sounds like a sopping wet sad cat too, whatever he does anyway is just so that he can get everything back to normal and undo his mistakes. maleficent doing MORE active villainy would’ve been. SO GOOD. god bless.

oh wait this is the part where i start talking about ansem huh? teeheeeee weheheheee. yo imagine if he was in house of mouse. OKAY THATS NOT A JOKE BUT THIS ISNT SUPPOSED TO BE WHAT THIS PART WAS ABOUT. ERM. i just hope he would’ve still been voiced by billy zane thats all ask for. in this awesome alternate timeline where the cartoon wasn’t cancelled. i think ansem was perfect in kh1 i dont think they needed to add or change anything really.

in short. i have autism. goodnight.

[illuminiscentboba]

Behind the scenes <3

hi guyssss!!! tysm nohr for the tag !!! <3333 this is my behind the scenes expernece as illumminiscentboba !! prepare yourselves bc this is gon be personal~~~

Started writing: I've been writing on and off since middle school, and have been posting works since that time on quotev <3 i actually still use quotev to this day and im so thankful that it was a safe space to write fiction, fanfiction and participate in random writing challenges :)

Started blogging: I starting blogging here around 5 years ago, using this acc to just bingeread fics and repost art! i didnt originally plan on writing on here until I read a few HQ fics and ichiruki fics from bleach on fanfiction.net that had me like..,,in awe, I wanted to replicate that awe and here I am.

Followers: i've been around 179/180 when I was more active around 4-3 years ago but have been on hiatus up until this month so now im at 113 LMAOODSBHDSBJ HELPPPPP followers did mean a bunch to me in the earlier years but now i'm just happy i enjoy my own work

Communication: ahahaa,,,about this,,,as of late I have been going nonverbal more often and just been a lot less social. The later is for no reason beyond not wanting to give anyone the illusion that I am very active here esp bc I havent been publishing work for such a long time. but now that I've mentioned it here and once I get my tags reorganized, I'll reblog a lot more...prepare to be sick of me.

Likes: I actually was surprised about how much more interest people had in headcannons than fics or blurbs but that aside I don't really have an opinion on likes but to those who do leave likes on my work, I appreciate it a bunch :)) likes used to help me define how much people enjoyed my writing style/the characters which is sooooo wrong and quite a damaging mindset to have. I don't share this sentiment nearly as much as I did in middle school thankfully but it does suck when I feel like i'm the only one that enjoyed smth i cooked

Requests: for a long time I got such little request, my inbox deadass had tumbleweeds skipping past everytime I opened it but then around the time I was beginning to feel burnt out here...i actually got a bunch...(i hate it here) a lot of the requests are so cute and sweet, I'll fulfil them in my own time and space :) but i appreciate them soooooo much i love silly billies in my requests

Writing: the hate love relationship I have with writing...i have quite a lot of ideas but putting them into works is....something else HELO doesn't help that I've got ADHD and keep getting ahead of myself when writing...but yeah I have been writing things as of late that Ive been enjoying and playing around with diff au concepts (which im quite excited for) that aside, one of the ultimate contributers to my hiatus was the change in environment and in myself a few years ago. Many of my friends happen to be ace and a lot of my other friends at that point in time had aversions to affection? strongly disliked verbal affection, physical affection, you could name it and they were not about it. It did actually effect my behavior in a sense where to this day I instinctively hold back on hugging hand holding, arm linking etc. and it feels so weird now bc some of my friends now are the opposite LMAO its very jarring, the sudden change and realizing that to make my writing flow better I would put myself in the situations and id do the same with dialogue which made writing for characters i didn't feel much for harder to digest, and constantly writing romance prompts also made things hard for me because it felt quite repetitive and made me lose touch with what writing was for me which was like the final straw for me at the time. Some things have changed since then, especially my life cirumstances and preferences. you guys can request as you like but I hope that there is understanding if i'm unable to fulfil the requests, some of many of my works that are romance may have other genres with it like thriller, mystery, fantasy or villainess concepts, and/or historical time period fics. and since my program is keeping me busy asl I wont be able to update as much as I hope but i'll likely be more active now that there are some things cleared up :))

once again, tysm nohr for the tag and this oppurtinity to rebrand and I'd love to see @cloudyevaa @cup-of-fluff @kaeyazuha @sexyandcringe @anyone else who see's this to do it :)) I actually deviated a bit from the normal format so here is @alienaiver 's who ate it up :))

[forabeatofadrum]

I can’t believe it IS butter

Summary: Simon admits to having an unusual favourite candy.

Notes: This is entirely Katmisc and RaenyDay on Discord’s fault. Thank you for enabling me.

AO3

--

SIMON

We’re all hanging out at our flat. Yes, our flat, since the moment we realised Baz wasn’t going back to Fiona’s, he started helping out by paying rent.

The six of us are sitting in a circle on the floor. We’ve moved my still pink sofa to the side and we’re all chatting. We’ve ordered pizza and Baz had to open a fancy bottle of wine, since he doesn’t like my cheap cider. (To be honest, I no longer like it either now that I don’t drink it to forget my bullshit.)

I invited them all since I am still working on this whole ‘letting people in’ thing that I am trying and also because Agatha wants to formally introduce Niamh to us as her partner. I don’t know if Niamh likes me, since I basically took away her chance to study actual dragon wings, but Agatha assures me that Niamh always frowns.

Niamh’s frown deepens when Shepard suggests a party game.

“A spin the bottle kind of thing, but without kissing!” he says excitedly.

“Then… what is the point?” Niamh asks.

“If the bottle is pointed towards you, you have to tell everyone a silly secret about yourself.”

Niamh looks uninterested, Penny looks concerned, Baz looks unamused and Agatha just laughs. But even so, no one seems to object when Shepard spins the empty wine bottle.

The secrets aren’t that life changing, to be honest. Shepard tells us that he’s flirted with one of Watford’s goats (okay, Niamh does look bewildered), Penny admits to writing slash fanfiction, Baz tells us that his entire Instagram recommendation page is filled with accounts dedicated to men’s shoes, Agatha tells us that she’s probably had a crush on her friend Minty, and Niamh admits to not knowing who Baz was up until she properly met Agatha.

The bottle finally points towards me.

“I, uh, eat little butter packets like candy.”

Silence.

Confused silence.

“You do… what?” Penny asks.

I reach inside the pocket of my jacket and I take out a small butter package, wrapped in foil. I got them from the restaurant I work at (I’m trying out jobs to see what sticks) (butter, that’s what sticks). At the restaurant, we serve them with bread, but when I first saw them I knew I had to try a little butter stick on its own.

The next thing I know, I always come home with a stash of little butter packages. I put them in the back of the fridge so that they can harden and then they’re basically like hard candy!

My friends stare at the little butter package and they watch how I unwrap it and pop it in my mouth.

“Hmmmm, nice,” I say as I suck on the butter.

Baz stares at me for a long second before his eyes flick to my pockets.

“Snow, is this why you asked me to spell your pockets to have a permanent cold temperature?” he asks indignantly.

I nod.

“And is that why your hands are often oily?” he continues.

I nod again. Most of the time I just put the butter in my mouth straight from the opened tinfoil wrap, but sometimes I forget to put them in a cold place and it gets messy. Or I do take the butter out of the package.

“Huh, this does explain why you’re often wearing this jacket,” Agatha says with a frown that matches Niamh’s, “I thought you were developing a style!”

“Nope, it’s for the butter,” I say

“Do you keep all of those in your pocket?” Penny asks, still looking astonished, “If so, are your pockets bigger on the inside? Nice work, Basilton.”

Baz and I both shake our heads.

“No, he only asked me to adjust the temperature.”

“No, I keep most of them in the fridge.”

Baz’s head jerks towards me.

“You do?”

I do most of the cooking, which is probably why Baz never noticed.

“Or I freeze them,” I shrug, “Mini butter ice creams!”

Another beat of silence. I take the opportunity to get another butter package out of my pocket. Honestly, Penny has the right idea by making my pocket magickally larger, so that I can carry even more ‘candies’ with me.

“… Merlin,” Baz pinches the bridge of his nose and I smile, “I don’t know if I should be worried or amused by this, love.”

“Amused, hopefully,” I turn around to look at the others, “Come on, Shepard just admitted to flirting with a goat and yet everyone is so distraught by my stuff!”

“It’s Shepard,” everyone but Niamh and Shepard point out and, okay, fair. Niamh still looks like she’s regretting coming here.

Shepard grins sheepishly.

“No judgment from me, my friend,” Shepard says, “I admit… I drink ketchup out of those little restaurant packets.”

Now everyone turns to Shepard.

Except for Agatha, who blushes.

“Ags?” I prompt.

“I, uhm, may have developed an appetite for uncooked instant ramen packets.”

Shepard raises his fist for a fist bump in solidarity.

“… what is happening?” Baz mutters next to me.

Penny coughs.

“If we’re sharing debatable eating habits, powdered sugar straight from the tube is a comfort food of mine, even though you can hardly call it food.”

“I gnaw on tea leaves,” Niamh says in a monotone voice.

Shepard wants a high five, but Niamh doesn’t budge and Shepard pouts. I give him a high five instead.

Now everyone turns to Baz, the only person who hasn’t chimed in.

He raises an eyebrow.

“What?” he says.

“What’s your unusual appetite, babe?” I ask.

“I drink rat blood, but that’s hardly a secret,” he says.

“And?” I gesture to him to go on.

“Isn’t that debatable enough?” Baz sighs.

“And?” I say again.

“And I like drinking strawberry dessert syrup straight from the a bottle,” he relents. I knew it! Why else would there always be a bottle of that thick substance in our fridge? Baz looks embarrassed when he continues: “I hold the bottle over me, tilt back my head, and squeeze it straight into my mouth.”

Everyone stares at him.

“It makes me think of blood without actually having to drink blood, okay?” he says.

“You guys can no longer judge me for my butter candies!” I say and I take out another one of them.

Honestly, I can’t get enough of it. It’s butter, but as a candy! It is the best idea I’ve ever had and no one can change my mind.

Everyone then in turn starts defending their own debatable food choice as I suck on my butter.

Next time we need to organise a potluck or something.

It’ll be fun.

[johnsamericano]

Can do a fic about dilf doyoung is your Father's friend but u have a secret relationship with him them one day he got you preggo so u moved in with him plsssss also put a lot of smut shshshhshsh pls I hope you read this.

Hi there! My requests are currently closed but I can never resist writing dilf!Doyoung so you’re lucky. There's not THAT much smut in this because I wanted to make it as realistic as possible. Hope you like it!

warnings: dirty talking, sex, language, use of the name daddy, spanking, unexpected pregnancy, age gap.

“What’s the meaning of this invitation, Mr. Kim?” You inquired, walking past the front door with a gym bag hanging from your shoulder. “It's not every day you invite me to a private swimming party.”

“Very funny.” He welcomed you with a hug, his warm, naked chest pressed against your covered one. “Jeno’s out with his friends. He won't come back until tomorrow.”

“Aw, but where's the fun in that? I wanted to be with him.” That response earned you a slap in the ass, hard enough to serve as a warning not to keep testing his patience.

“Get changed. I'll wait for you in the hot tub.”

You locked yourself in the nearest bathroom, quickly yanking off your clothes to replace them with a baby blue bikini. You knew how much he loved the matching set, not as much as taking it off you, of course.

Wanting to make him wait for a while longer, you neatly folded your clothes and placed them over your sleeping wear inside the bag you'd brought with you.

“Took you long enough.” He was sitting inside the water, his arms spread wide as he gave you a less than amused look. “Come here.”

Despite how dominant he might look on the outside, he never managed to fool you. As soon as you were between his arms, your face was guaranteed to be covered with kisses from his soft lips.

“I missed you this past few weeks.” His wet thumb traced figures over your arm, avoiding looking into your eyes. “Why haven't you visited?”

Your fingers played with the small, grey hairs covering the nape of his neck.

“It's getting harder to hide it from Jeno, and I know if he ever found out, our friendship would be over. I don't wanna lose him.”

“He’ll find out, better sooner than later.” The look on your face must've given away your thoughts. “What? Did you think this was just something casual?”

“I mean...” His jaw dropped, arms falling into the water with a splash. “Look, you have to understand me. We started right after your wife left, I thought you were using me to forget her. And I didn't mind-”

“Using you?” Just a few millimeters and his eyebrows would be touching. “Have you always thought so low of me?”

“Doyoung...”

“I want a future with you, y/n. Not just an occasional fuck but an actual relationship, and if you don't feel the same about me, then we might as well end things here.” This was the first time you'd seen him mad, with his whole face red from anger and the warmth of the jacuzzi, he looked as if he were about to explode.

“Of course I do. But it's complicated.” The red shade tinting his cheeks and ears, slowly faded. “No one would accept our relationship, for starters.”

“I couldn't care less about other’s opinions.”

In less than a second, his lips crashed against yours, hard. But there was a hint of sweetness in his wild movements, the way his hands caressed your back while his tongue worked its way inside your mouth aggressively.

“Already so eager?” He asked as your heat rubbed itself against his clothed cock. “Not here.”

“What...?”

The muscles in his legs tensed as he stood up with you still between his arms. He was strong, for a man of his age, of course.

“I’m afraid that I've been fucking you the wrong way, which might have been the reason for you to have the wrong idea about us.” Leaving a trail of water drops behind you, you climbed up the stairs leading to the second floor, where his room was located. “Scratch that. No more fucking, from now on, I'm gonna make love to you.”

“Have you always been this cheesy?” Your feet touched the floor as he removed his hands from below your thighs, slightly pushing you until the back of your knees touched the mattress.

“Don’t make me change my mind and spank that pretty ass.”

“Rude.” You let yourself fall on the fresh comforter, dragging him down with you.

“Take your clothes off for me, won't you?” He busied himself pulling down his swimming trunks while you struggled with the knot keeping your bra in place. “Such a silly, little girl. Can't do anything without her daddy, can her?”

“Please.” Even though you hated being humiliated, your core didn't seem to bother. His degrading words only caused your essence to form an even larger patch on your bikini. “Doyoung...”

“Fine.” His cock was standing proudly, his tip dripping with small beads of precum. “On your knees and turn around.”

He worked through the knots as fast as his trembling fingers allowed him to. His mouth was aching to say the special words he'd been keeping to himself for a while now, but he didn't have enough courage yet.

“Ready.” The straps fell down your arms, tickling the skin as they slid.

You took the last piece of your suit off, finally allowing your body to be consumed by the humidity of the summer evening. Doyoung was quicker to enter you than usual. No teasing, just lovemaking as he’d promised earlier.

“You’re so warm.” His lips were attached to your collarbone, sucking to leave a mark big enough for everyone to see. “Your little cunt takes me so well. No one else could make me feel as good as you do.”

With his hips pistoning your hole, your fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, dancing over the tender skin. The way you were looking at each other, so intimate and full of affection, had the words he'd been wanting to say rushing out of his lips.

“I love you.” His movements faltered as if waiting for you to give him any type of answer.

“What’s with that scared face?” You giggled, every inch of your skin flushed with embarrassment and desire. “I love you too.” He loved how young you made him feel, like a silly teenager confessing to his crush only to find out his feelings were reciprocated.

His thrusts resumed, this time slower, deeper, making sure you felt every single ridge and vein of his cock. His length caressed your walls oh so deliciously, bringing you closer and closer to your high. Until someone had to ruin it.

“Dad, where are you?” In a rush, Doyoung pulled out, not even noticing how his seed spilled out of your hole. Fear had taken over the pleasure.

“Get in the bathroom, he probably just forgot something. Don't worry.”

As he'd said, Jeno was quick to leave. Not even ten minutes later, Doyoung was back in his room, announcing Jeno’s little getaway got extended.

“So that means, you can stay for a while longer. Only if you want of course.” The bathtub was filling with warm water and bubbles he'd added. “Or we can go on our own trip, whatever you want.” You felt at ease between his arms, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

Who would've thought you'd be losing your mind a few weeks later because of the same man that had given you so much peace before.

“How could you forget to wear protection?!”

“Don't treat me as if I were the only one responsible for this situation.” You hid your face between the warmth of your palms, supporting the side of your head against the window. “Look at me, baby.”

You shook your head, tears starting to slip between your fingers.

“I’m here for you, darling. Whatever you want to do, I'll fully support you.” His thumb traced the shape of the shell of your ear.

“I don't know what I want to do.”

“We still have time to help you figure things out, okay?” There was a certain sadness to his tone, almost as if his hopes were vanishing.

He didn't want to get rid of it, but being pregnant was a burden that you'd have to carry alone as much as he tried to help. It was your choice and only yours.

“I want to have it, but I don't even have a job or economical support. My parents would kill me if they found out. And Jeno, oh boy, he'd have a heart attack.”

“You have me, y/n. And even though I can't do anything about other people's reactions, I'll always be by your side.”

Doyoung wasn't lying. He walked you through every step, even assumed part of the responsibility when talking to your parents, who didn't react as badly as you'd foreseen.

“Just make sure you're making the right choice.” They'd said.

Jeno was the last person to find out.

“Oh, hey y/n. Were you waiting for me?” He dropped the sports bag right in front of de door.

“We have to tell you something.”

“We?” The look on his face was almost comical as if life had been sucked out of his handsome features.

“Yes, we.” Doyoung laced his fingers with yours, tightly locking your hands together.

His father explained the situation calmly, making sure to use the right words to avoid scaring him away. By the time he was done, Jeno was just staring at you with an emotionless face.

“Jeno?” Your heart dropped at the thought of losing your friend. “Say something, please.”

“You want me to say something?”

There was a small, dramatic pause to add some tension to his words. But the mood lightened as soon as his eyes became crescent moons.

“Bold of you to assume I wasn't aware of your little relationship.” He giggled. “It's okay, guys. You're both adults and I trust you know what you're doing.”

“What the hell is going on?” Your thoughts slipped out of your mouth.

“Thank you, Jeno.” Doyoung mouthed, squeezing your shoulder.

“Man, I always wanted a little brother.” He walked up to you, wrapping his arms around you and his father's neck.

“I rather have a girl this time.”

“Should I call you mom?” Jeno teasingly asked, poking the back of your head.

“Try me.”

(...)

As you folded your clothes and placed them in your new closet, the sun started setting. The light sound of sizzling could be heard from the room, probably Doyoung cooking dinner.

“Y/n!” He shouted from downstairs. “Come help me set the table.”

“Coming!” You set aside the remaining boxes. There were not many clothes left to unpack, so you could finish after eating.

You tiptoed on your way downstairs, accomplishing to scare him with a surprise back hug.

“Stop, you could've burnt yourself.” He scolded, undoing your hug only to quickly pull you by his side moments later.

“Is it me or are you getting a little too overprotective?”

“Am not!” His eyebrows quivered like they did every time he lied.

“Really? Then why haven't we had sex ever since you found out I was pregnant?” Your hand teasingly traced figures on his lower abdomen, a little too close to the stove he was using.

“You’re gonna get burnt.” Once again, he tried to push you away, but your hand remained in the same position. “Baby...”

“Uh-uh, you're not gonna sweet-talk your way out. Why won't you touch me anymore? Have I lost my charm or something?”

“What? No!” He turned off the stove, completely turning to his side to face you. “I just don't wanna hurt the baby.”

“Bullshit. You know it's still safe to do it, you already had one son, for god's sake.” Your arms were crossed over your slightly swollen mounds. “I want the truth.”

“I’m telling you the truth...” There was no nervous quiver from his eyebrows, but his tone was less than convincing.

“The whole truth, Doyoung.”

There was no way out, he had to tell you what he'd been trying to hurry at the back of his head for weeks now.

“I can't stop thinking that the only reason we became official is because of this baby, and I'm afraid if you lose it, I'll lose you as well.” It seemed as if your roles had reversed, as if he was the youngest, the most immature.

“Idiot.” You flicked his forehead with anger, later pulling him into a bear hug. “Get those stupid ideas out of your little head or I'll have to slap them out of you.”

“Rude much.”

“I told you once before we found out about the baby...” Your lips were achingly close to his, ready to kiss those soft, pink pillows. “I love you.”

Your eyes were stuck on his lips, too busy to notice how his eyes started sparkling, the edge of them trying to contain his tears. After a while, you looked up, his nostalgic expression puzzling you.

“I’m sorry, it's the hormones.” He sniffled.

“That's not how pregnancy works, honey.”

[yoichichi]

Big Brain Bitches Playlist ❣️

For the lovely @nataliahaslosthershit , thank you for always being so kind and being patient!!!

disclaimers: this is a fem!reader since it is a request, so if there’s any instances where those pronouns or the fact it’s a fem reader is alluded to that’s why!

warnings: Tsukishima, that’s the warning

gif not mine, credit to owner

a/n: thank you for being so patient sweetie!! I really hope you like this and I did my best with the playlist to include a little bit of everything you like!!!

Relationship Headcannons

As much as Tsukishima would lowkey HATE the way you always wanna make friends (not really he just likes being a shithead) he also just finds it so cute??? Like he’s like 🙄✋🏼 must you talk to everyone?? But is also like :) shes so friendly and tries so hard to be nice :) how did I find someone like her :) but he keeps that on the lowkey a bit and GOD LET ANYONE BE RUDE TO YOU WHEN HE SEES YOU AS AN ABSOLUTE ANGEL‼️‼️‼️

Tsukishima is also focused on his studies and would appreciate you being focused as well, he would hate to see you over stressed from the importance your parents put on it, and he’d always be doing/saying things to get you to relax as best as he could

“You’ve gone over this 5 times, do you really think you’re that stupid that you have to go over it again?”

“We should take a break, let’s go take a walk to the corner store and find some good snacks. Studying is always more effective if you take breaks like that anyway.”

It is, but he’s more concerned with removing those frown lines from your forehead and warming your hand up with his

Sidenote - definitely the type to blow on your hands while their held in his to warm them up

ANYWAYS

Regardless, it’d become a habit for you two to always do your studying together since he wants to be sure you’re not overworking yourself.

STUDY DATES‼️‼️

Idk I can just see him always bringing a second bottle of water with him just in case you need it ??LMAO like y’all would be studying and you’d be like

“I’m a little thirsty, I’m gonna get-“

“🤨”

boom bottle of water on the table for you

PLS he won’t give it to you until you mention you’re thirsty tho, unless he feels like he hasn’t seen you drink enough water

I don’t see him as a big talker while he studies with you unless you’re helping each other out, he just kind of likes your presence while you guys are studying cause it feels like bonding and he just likes spending time with you :)

A bit off topic of study dates but you can’t tell me his love language ISNT quality time and he would never admit it but he’s definitely clingy lowkey LMAO

like he just wants to spend his free time with you even if it’s just being in the same room together but doing different things?? He thinks being able to be your own person while still enjoying each other is important in a relationship

So of course he’ll sit in a room with you and eavesdrop read a book while you gossip with your friends over the phone and then listen to you rant about it after

just like how he appreciates when you ask about his day while you cook dinner together and ask him all kinds of follow up questions, cause you actually care and want to know!!

Ok but ANYWAY back to study dates:

So like I was saying, not a big talker, but I feel like complete silence would freak him out?? This mf always got his headphones so one of you has got to be playing music while you’re studying, but do you know what this means?

This means that a song has definitely come on that he likes and he totally was humming or even quietly singing along to himself, not really thinking about the fact you were there and can definitely hear him, and as soon as he realizes he would just look at you and shut up SO fast LMAO

Like he’d just get wide eyed and breath in and stop singing and just kind of look up at you AND HIS EARS WOULD BE SO RED (he’s an ear blusher for sure) and he’d do that WHITE BOY SMILE THING WHERE HE HAS DEAD EYES AND HIS MOUTHS A THIN LINE but he’d look so shy and embarrassed plssss and he’d just look back down to his textbook and try not to think about it

And you’d just giggle and he could only groan and be like “let’s move on 😐” BUT YOURE DEFINITELY NOT FORGETTING THAT

But study dates?? Yeah they’re important to you two

Tsukishima would also be constantly making sure you’re taking care of yourself outside of studying, like making sure you’re needs are taken care of since you have a tendency to over look them in the favor of others (which I feel like would really drive him crazy cause you’re his baby!!! He can’t stand that thought !!!)

Like if he saw you offer a friend your last snack knowing you hadn’t eaten enough today he’s slapping a snack in your possession so fast like 😐 eat this, now.

ITS A LITTLE AGGRESSIVE IN THE CALMEST WAY but it’s just cause you’re important to him

The bullying??? Yes he’d love that cause he’s just like 😳‼️ you keep up with him and he’d just love the back and forth between you two so much

Queue the eye rolls and lopsided smirk while he’s grabbing your hand and kissing it telling you to shut up

Regarding your stims - he’d definitely take notice and probably do things like always holding your hand to make sure you aren’t hurting yourself too bad!

I know people have mentioned him not being that big on PDA but I feel like he’d take a neutral stance on it, like holding your hand is so innocent and if it helps you not pinch your wrists or picking at your nails of course he’s gonna do it!! It’s his way of showing you he notices and cares 🖤

Regarding your self confidence, he’d definitely still bully you cause cmon 🙄 this is your guys love language and he knows you know it’s harmless, and the last thing he’d want to do is make you feel like he’s coddling you and suffocating you by not being silly with you the way he normally would

HOWEVER

If anyone else clowns on you whew please it is over for them

Like let’s say you meet the boys and you and hinata are clowning on each other?? Tsuki is NOT playing games LMAO like he’d definitely be like

😐😐 hinata I KNOW you’re not talking and you’d have to remind him in private that it’s ok he doesn’t care he will bully hinata any chance he gets

Okok real talk Tsukishima would think it’s so fucking cool you know how to speak more than one language!!! Not the type to necessarily be like let me hear it 🤠 but if you do speak another language around him he’s always like 🙂 wow, that was pretty cool

Ok also?? Both of you being introverts?? Tsuki is happy to the MAX

Like he just gets to come home to you and detox in his little home and sit with you on the couch and talk about your days and watch whatever you’re feeling and it’s just so recharging for him and he’s so grateful you’re perfectly ok with that :)

And finally, tell me he wouldn’t bully you for your height but also find it so so adorable 🙄‼️

Ahhhh!! Ok here is the acclaimed playlist I made for you!! I hope you enjoy it❣️

Ok I did my best to include your variety of music tastes in here!! But if there’s anything you’d like me to change please feel free to let me know and I will!!

Ahhhh I hope you like it, enjoy my descriptions below!

1. The Most Beautiful Thing - Bruno Major: ok so yes we’re starting this off with a dash of Tsuki angst, as much as I know he’d deny it he yearns for love. Like the idea of someone being so important they get his attention and devotion and they love him the same is sooo comforting to him! And sometimes he would daydream about it like :) I wonder when I’m gonna meet them, I wonder how, I can’t wait - but the way he would he embarrassed if anyone knew this - and when he DOES meet you it is not what he expected LMAO

2. 80’s makeout session - dacelynn:  OK SO HE MEETS YOU and is just like 👁👄👁 and it’s everything he dreamed of, if he was feeling irrational he might’ve even believed it was love at first sight but there’s one problem, the way Tsuki is be lowkey mad he wants your attention LMAO. Like you would meet and he would just look into your eyes and he feels his heart stop; and you’re so nice when you’re introducing yourself to him and your voice is so sweet and he can’t stop thinking about the way your curly hair is framing your face and he just oop 🤒 he got the love bug bad AND HED BE SO MAD cause like, he tries to only do things for himself! And that’s exactly why love was a daydream cause UGH HOW PATHETIC IS HE. He never tries impress anyone else cause he’s his biggest critic anyway, but suddenly he wants to be noticed by you and impress you and the way that would just irk him, but he cant help it 🤷‍♂️ sorry bout it Tsuki

3. IFHY (feat. Pharrell) - Tyler, The Creator: more on Tsuki being mad he likes you LMAO - I think what would push him to get over himself and how it’s kind of scary for him how much he likes you would be imagining what could happen if he DOESNT grow up and just let you know. The thought of you with somebody else? Yeah he don’t like that one bit and that’s when he knows he better suck it up and accept he’s got it for you hard

4. Make Me Your Queen - Declan McKenna: OK CALLING TSUKI SIMPS OUT- you’d want him so bad but he’s so bad at showing his interest!! So on your end it’d be soooo much pining and patience and a little bit desperate like PLS I jus wanna be your s/o man 😕 but don’t worry he likes you just as much, he’s just awful at showing that at first LMAO

5. Kiss Like A Woman - Mona: ok but once Tsuki accepts he’s got it bad, I don’t see him as someone who wastes time at. All. Like he’s like ok well she’s fucking great obviously if I like her cause I have great taste so it’s only a matter of time before someone else tries to get her attention, so I gotta act fast. However, he’s clueless so he’d think he’s being obvious but he’s not. Like he starts his habit of bringing you snacks and water on your study dates before they’re actually dates and you have no idea he likes you. And he thinks he’s being smooth like, how could you not know he likes you? But it’d be the end of your study session and you’re about to leave and he’s been wondering why it seems like maybe you’re not interested? He can’t tell so he’d just be like, “do you like me, too? Or am I making you uncomfortable? I’ve been waiting for you to let me know how you feel but you really haven’t said anything, so.” AND YOUD JUST BE LOOKING AT HIM LIKE 😳🧍🏻‍♀️ and you’re blushing hard so he’s like ok obviously she likes me? And he would kind of tilt his head in your direction and raise his eyebrows waiting for you to answer, cause he still wants to be sure. And you’d hold your books tighter to your chest and nod so fast. He’d walk over to you and kiss you on your cheek and be all, “see you tomorrow, idiot.” And walk off like a bad bitch, cause that was pretty smooth, but once his back is to you and his headphones are on while he’s walking away BOY IS BLUSHING HARDDDD CAUSE HE’S LIKE did I really just do that oh shit 🥴

6. A Sunday Kind Of Love - Etta James: when I mentioned Tsuki liked to think about love this is exactly what I mean. He just wants something so relaxed and devoted and when he gets that with you? WHEW he is not letting that go!!

7. Black Dog - Arlo Parks: ok so this song itself is more intense than for what I’m writing for it and what it inspired me BUT this is really how Tsuki feels when he sees you overworking yourself. He can’t stand to see you stress so much over something, especially if it’s school, and then see you push your own limits in the favor of others. It’d definitely be a day where you come to his house to study but when you guys get there instead of pulling out the stuff from his bag he just sets it down and walks over to you and pulls you into his chest. After holding you for a while, he pulls back and makes you look up at him with his hands on your cheeks and leans down to kiss your forehead. “Are you ok?” It’s such a simple question but it really hits home and it’s one of the first times you guys simultaneously realize how much you care for each other. And you’d just hug him tighter and he decides nap time holds a little priority over studying right now.

8. come out and play - Billie Eilish: as smooth as Tsukishima can be or as clueless as he is, he’s also a shy lover for sure. It will take him a while to be genuinely soft and let his walls down and be vulnerable and tell you how much he cares about you, he try’s to show it as best as he can cause it can be easier than looking into your pretty eyes that make him all nervous and choke on his words while he tries to tell you he loves you. So it’ll take some coaxing and you being patient, but he’ll get there eventually and become more confident with his declarations of love.

9. Pleaser - Wallows: more on Tsuki being shy LMAO he wants to tell you he loves you SO BAD but he just cannot make himself do it

10. I’m Glad There Is You - Julie London: ok you mentioned slow dancing in the kitchen type songs? Stop it this is the one - to me this is the introvert love anthem , perfect for you two right? Like you’d be playing music in the kitchen while you two are cooking and this song would come on and normally he’s not a person who shows his affection much but this song would just get to him? Like he almost wants to cry??? He just looks at you, and maybe you’re humming a little, he really can’t tell but he doesn’t care cause you’re just so bright and gorgeous and the more he hears the song, the more his heart is starting to swell thinking of you. And so he wouldn’t be able to help himself. He’d just come up behind you and lean down so his head his resting on top of yours and his arms are wrapped around you. He leans down a little farther and presses a soft but long kiss to your cheek and just whispers how he loves you and hugs you tight one more time before going back to his part of cooking dinner; as if that wasn’t the first time he was finally able to tell you that.

11. Linger In My Arms A Little Longer Baby - Peggy Lee: kitchen dancing music kitchen dancing music kitchen dancing music !! I feel like once Tsuki dances with you ONCE he’d be addicted 😶 like you just look so happy and it hits him in his gut in the best way and he’d kill to feel like that with you again 🖤

12. Sweet Creature - Harry Styles: stop I fucking love Harry styles when I say Tsuki sees you as his home I MEAN it, it doesn’t matter what happens between you two. Sure, like any couple you guys argue and it can be rough sometimes, problems can arise it’s natural. But Tsukishima would never be the type to say something he doesn’t mean or do anything to ruin the relationship, you’re his person and no matter how much you two argue he’d always be sure you know he loves you and you’re the most important thing to him, and you’re very aware of that.

13. I Think I Like It When It Rains - Willis: ok a little bit of angst! In those difficult moments, sure sometimes Tsuki does wish it was like how it was a while ago when the pining and awkwardness was still there and you would go home after studying and you’d both still be giddy and trying to calm yourselves down. Cause the pining and awkward feelings were easy to solve, but these problems are harder, they’re the ones you solve for the long haul. But once he takes a breather he knows this is so much more important and worth it, and he’s reminded of how much he really loves you.

14. I CHOOSE YOU - Adam Melchor: you really would be living in Tsukis mind rent free LMAO and while he was all grumpy at first at the fact he even wanted your attention he’s so happy now it’s so cute pls. He goes to the store and sees something you like?? Yeah he’s buying it. Hears a song you might like? He adds it to the playlist you guys share (yes you would have one from when you would study together all the time and you’ve just kept it and he always add songs to it still for you) all in all, you take up his mind 25/8 now and he’s accepted it with a smile on his face

15. this is how you fall in love - Jeremy Zucker, Chelsea Cutler: introvert love anthem #2, this is literally so cheesy and I hope it fits your taste but anyways!! Falling in love is just so easy for you guys, it’s the easiest thing Tsuki’s ever done, and he holds a lot of pride to that statement.

——————

that’s it!!! That’s the thing!! Gosh I really hope you like it !! Thank you for being so patient and kind to me again, and don’t forget to message me if you need a change

-🐇out

[jay-and-dean]

Yet another thing to celebrate

Dean x reader

Summary (I used the requester’s words) :  Reader’s birthday is on Christmas Eve, which generally sucks because everyone is either skint or celebrating Christmas.

Warnings : Fluffy fluff with a little fluff whipped cream on top. Very implied smut.

Wordcount : 3.6k

Note : This is my fic for @girl-next-door-writes Secret Santa (I reaaally hope you like it lovely, merry Christmas and happy birthday) hosted by @negans-lucille-tblr​ on @spnsecretsantaficexchange​.

I also made my participation to the amazing @acklesterritory​‘s celebration challenge, in the fic, my prompt was “I saw that, you just checked me out”, it’s bold in the fic.

The song refered to is She’s always a woman, by Billie Joel.

The text dividers are from the great @firefly-graphics​

Jay’s Masterlist

          Christmas…

           Before you even open your eyes, you sigh, grabbing the soft pillow in your fist and nuzzling on its softness in a sleepy grunt.

You don’t hate this day, but it often makes you a little sad despite your will to enjoy it fully. It is your birthday. December 24, the busiest day in the country, damn, in the whole West. And even if you are not the kind to want the full attention on you, to be spoiled or anything, you just wish sometimes that, for once, you could have a proper birthday.

           When you were a teen, you more than once even dared dreaming of a party you could throw, but Christmas is about family and basically about everyone. Not you.

           You dream of a little birthday party with friends, some drinks, music, maybe dancing a little... But it would be impossible unless you do it way before or way after, and it wouldn't really be the same...

           This year is different though.

           This winter, even if the celebration of your birth was totally forgotten, you don’t need anything more than what you have now. And what you have is Dean Winchester. Nothing is more important than that, nothing can make you happier.

           In fact, nothing can really make you feel any other way than blessed after this summer. After Dean kissed you on that hunt, after you two had sex in the Impala on your way home ; after later he asked you to stay in his bed for the night that other evening you both ended up naked. And finally, after he asked you to stay in his room for good a few weeks later, and started calling you his girlfriend.

           You smile thinking of waking up next to him and move your feet to find his behind you. But when you don’t, you turn and rub your eyes before opening them.

           Empty. Your shared bed is empty.

“Dean ?” is the first word you say, but the room stays cruelly silent.

Of course… It’s Christmas. He must be busy, like everyone is always on that day… The sting on your heart comes back... You have woken up with the man you love every single morning for the last few months, but not today.

           That is how lame your birthday can be.

           After staying in bed almost one hour, trying to shake that blues off by thinking of how blessed you are, you finally are about to get up and face that stolen day, but the door opens slowly.

           You close your eyes, not really knowing why, maybe just to avoid having to find an explanation for not getting up before if you were awake. The bed moves under Dean’s weight as he crawls on it slowly but you don’t move, even when he clumsily crushes your arm a little while hovering you.

“Happy birthday Baby” he whispers with his coffee breath close to your face. “Have you decided to skip today ? It’s almost noon.”

“Mh…” you hum, lifting your arms to reach his neck, desperate to feel his skin. “Thank you.”

You hesitate a second, wanting to ask him why he got up without you today, why he didn’t wake you with kisses and sweet words like he often does, but you don’t say anything, grateful enough that he got tired of you not being with him and came to get you.

           He lets a part of his weight fall on you, making you huff and laugh softly. His scruff scratches your shoulder, the rough fabric of his jeans is uncomfortable and his belt is digging to your hip but you wouldn't change a thing.

           Your hand goes to his neck and massages it softly, he hums, and you feel his body softly relax. You always know just how to calm him, how to make him fall back asleep after a nightmare, how to make his muscles calm after the roughest hunts. But after less than a minute, he grunts, sitting up.

"No, no" he shakes his head. "You're not making me skip that day with you ! Get up Baby."

He grabs your shoulders and playfully shake them, not realizing that even his kidding strength is huge.

"Geeet uuuup" he chuckles when your whole body is shaken and your laugh sounds funny because of it.

           The warm water runs along your hair and down your spine, and a soft steam fills the bathroom. For sure, that was a great late breakfast, with pancakes Dean had made for you, and his little stolen kisses.

           He is really making this day better.

           Maybe you can forget about your birthday now, and just enjoy Christmas like a normal person. You are loved, and you are happy, you don't need anything else.

           Washing your hair, you smile thinking of the tree the boys have bought, so big that they struggled to carry it up the stairs. You chuckle at thinking of Dean grumbling about the thorns covering Baby's seats. They even bought bags mysterious decorations and fairy lights they never let you see. The library now smells like Christmas tree.

           We're celebrating this year, Dean said. And in the years you have known the Winchesters, you indeed never saw them put so much effort in a holiday.

           A lot of things keep surprising you.

           Sam once told you that his brother had changed a lot since he was with you, making you worry more than anything else. You never wanted Dean to change, you love Dean just the way he is... Then you understood what Sammy was saying...

           You understood in the little things. Like Dean's new love for late mornings in bed, like him drinking a little less, being a little less reckless during hunts, humming in the shower, letting go more in bed, allowing himself to give up the constant control he has on himself... And in his will to celebrate Christmas. Dean is not different, he is just happier.

           Your eyes get a little wet with joy at the thought while your rub your body with the delicious smelling foam.

           Forget your birthday, if Dean's happiness demands this day to be the Christmas he didn't have as a kid, the Christmas he is finally allowing himself to want, then you are honored to help him make it perfect.

           You step out of the shower and your eyes meet the big mirror. In the middle of it, written with a big finger on the thick steam : "I love you Y/n".

           Your choice is made : This will be Christmas. This will be anything to make that man as lucky as you are.

"How can I help ?" you say, entering the kitchen where Dean is apparently trying to make cookies, wearing this apron he only puts on for great occasions.

"I'm making cookies men like in Shrek" he says pointing to the not-so-bad gingerbread biscuits he already cooked with his finger covered in dough.

           You come behind him and wrap your arms around his middle, forehead on his back, just feeling his breathing for a second. Dean doesn't stop what he is doing because he is used to you tenderly and randomly holding him, his clean fingers only come to gently caress your arm for a second before he shapes another cookie, chuckling when he adds a tiny penis to the little guy.

"I love you too" you murmur, nose grazing his back to bath in his smell.

He hums.

"We will eat dinner pretty early, I hope you're hungry" he says, looking at his watch. "I want to enjoy some time with my girl after."

You smile, getting on your tiptoes to kiss the uncovered skin of his neck above the collar of his flannel. He wants a lazy evening, making love like you do, or maybe try a kinky thing ; what is sure is you will gladly give him what he wants.

           Time goes by sweetly as you watch this deadly warrior check the turkey while his equally legendary warrior brother prepares another round of eggnog for the three of you. They move around like busy bees in the room and it's a perfect show.

           You sit on the counter, talking about silly things, sometimes doing something to help, when your boyfriend lets you. You keep sipping from the sugary drink, and watching the beauty of Dean just be before your eyes. Unaware of how perfect he is in his every moves, he just works with his strong arms and skilled hands.

           Your eyes linger a little along his thick thighs, and you bend your head to the side to enjoy the exquisite sight of the sensual curve of his butt.

"I saw that, you just checked me out" he says in a smile without even turning around.

"And ?" you let out in a chuckle. "What are you going to do about that ?"

At your surprise, he starts to rock his hips from right to left slowly in clumsy funny moves of his butt, like he wanted to sexy dance for you without stopping what he is doing, earning an eye roll from his brother when his hip hits him on his way.

           Christmas is already perfect.

           The table is beautiful. Different courses in pretty plates you didn't know the guys had filling it like you have only seen in the movies. There is way too much food for three people but you are so happy that your beloved Winchester can eat like they want for Christmas eve.

           Everything is pretty, the giant messy tree has real bright decorations on it and there are even a few presents at its feet, wrapped messily in colorful papers.

           But their most impressive work is the light in the room, changing the place completely. Almost none of the artificial lights of the bunker is on, and a subdued ambiance with fairy lights and candles make it look even more magical than it usually is.

"When did you find the time to do all that ?" you smile with unintended wetness in your enthralled eyes. "It looks... enchanted in here."

"You stayed in bed until noon" Dean says in a light chuckle, pulling a chair for you and putting a kiss on your cheek. "Merry Christmas baby."

"It's perfect, Deanie" you turn your head so his next kiss lands on the corner of your mouth. "Merry Christmas guys."

Sam sits, rubbing his hands at the sight of the turkey, and starts reminding his brother of an old memory of a past Christmas you listen with all your focus. Everything that can make you know more about their life always catches your full attention. You are, after all, their biggest fan.

           The story is about a Christmas when Dean was a teen. He had spent the night between 23th and 24th December with a girl and was really late to come back to the motel. Sam thought maybe he wouldn't be back for diner, he had already taken the cereals out of the closet when Dean showed up carrying the whole cooked Turkey he had stolen from the girl's parents.

           You look at your boyfriend with all the love in the world and bend to give him a kiss on the forearm while he cuts a piece of this not stolen meat for you.

"Her parents were dicks, and I couldn't let you starve, dad would have killed me" Dean chuckles, filling your plate.

           But you know the story must be really different from just that, Dean never brags about how great he was with Sam.

           You let out a little moan, tasting the food and Dean’s face is lit by a wide proud grin.

“It’s good ?” he asks before he even tastes, an excited hope in his eyes.

“Delischious” you answer with your mouth full, a hand before it.

           And indeed, everything is perfect. Dean, as much as Sam can playfully denies it, is a great cook. He has no technique, no cooking education, but what he has is a real love for food and comfort, a great experience on mixing things and tasting that gives him a perfect intuition. And, above all, the strong selfless will of saying "I love you" with food like some people have.

           Sitting on the floor next to the tree, you hold against you the red flannel Dean finally agreed to give you, and the books Sam bought for you. Your head is leaning lovingly on your lover's shoulder while he looks, exited, at the vinyl records he got, humming his favorite songs.

           You crawl between his thighs and rest your back on his chest, your head back, temple grazing his scruff.

"Best Christmas ever" you smile, feeling his lips graze your cheek. "So what is the program of a Winchester Christmas after that ?"

You close your eyelid and take a deep breath of Dean's scent, expecting a sexy proposition.

"We're going somewhere" he smiles, and, when you open your eyes, you see Sam put on his coat.

"Now ?" you frown, a little confused. "Where ?"

Dean gets up, putting you on your feet with his strong arm, and takes his coat and yours from Sam's hands.

"I'm not telling you. Take your jacket and get in the car."

           He is silent on the road despite all your questions.

           You listen to the car's purring and look outside to try to guess where they are taking you. The white snow covers the sides of the road with a very thin and delicate layer, the headlights are hit with little swirling snowflakes, and no clue betrays their surprise.

           Sam is smiling, looking out the window. You know they have been planning something, and you know you will love it. Maybe they will show you a place they used to go when they were kids, maybe take you to a special place where you can see the stars so clearly, like this time last summer.

"Come on Dean" you say, kneeling on Baby's back seat to wrap your arms around him from behind, going down a little to feel his firm chest though his shirt under your palms. "Tell me."

"You can't wait just five minutes" he tries to grunt, but it sounds more like a chuckle.

           You fall silent, not letting go of him, holding him like the precious treasure he is, occasionally smelling his hair, kissing his shoulder and tracing the contours of his ear. You just can't stop touching him, and since that talk you had after sex once, you know how much he loves it.

"Aw" Sam mocks you like he often does. "You two are so cute."

"Fuck yeah we are" Dean groans, turning right to a one way road.

"You know Christmas is already perfect" you smile. "You don't have to surprise me again."

"Yeah, I know" he says, parking in front of a bar. "But, it's not only Christmas today."

           You look around, confused. The guys open the door, letting the freezing cold enter the Impala, and get out in a perfect sync. You follow them, lifting your eyes to the colorful neon lights reflecting in the snowy night. Around on the parking lot, more cars than you would have expected are parked, and you wonder who would spend Christmas eve in a bar like this one.

           But before you can wonder why they would have taken you there, to this bar you never heard off, your boyfriend's hand wraps around your waist and he guides you inside, pushing the heavy doors.

           The first thing that hits you is the perfect warmth of the inside. The temperature is perfect but not only : the music is smooth like honey, it's this kind of blues that is paradoxically happy and comforting, it smells like wood and whiskey ; and above all, here too, there is something about the light that feels like a hug.

           The second thing that hits you is the welcoming familiar face of Garth smiling to you.

"Garth ?" you frown and feel Dean's lips graze your ear. "Happy birthday Baby."

He lets go of you to walk to the people there at the bar, arms open to greet them, letting you stunned.

           You are recognizing all you friends there, still in their Christmas clothes, walking to you to hug you and bring you drinks and for a few seconds, your body just stays still.

           No one is missing, not one person. And, even if you don't have hundreds of friends since you joined the hunter life, you have never seen a room so full of love.

"Let me take your coat" Jody says, seeing you froze to the spot.

"I... You're here for me ? Th-they planned all that ?" you stammer with some watery emotions filling your eyes.

"Dean did" Jody smiles. "We followed."

             You're sipping from that delicious drink the bartender made according to your tastes, unable to take that smile off of your face. Donna, a little tipsy in her pretty outfit, is telling sexy jokes with a full dimpled smile, making Sam chuckle and Charlie high-five her, spilling a little of her drink on you.

           From the corner of your eye, you look at him.

           He is bending on the pool table with a smirk, his beer next to him. From here, you can't hear what he is saying to the other players, but it seems a little cocky. After only a few seconds staring at him, it's like he felt it and he looks up, giving you the cutest wink.

           And you blush. Because even after all you have lived together, even after the kinky experiences, the intimate moments, after seeing him cry, yell, suffer or come... A wink is still enough to turn you to a blushing mess.

           All evening, he has been keeping his distance just a little. Not avoiding you at all but not clinging to you, to let you enjoy your friends, to let you have the full experience of a birthday party like you dreamed of since you were a teen.

           A birthday with loud silly discussions, a lot of drinks, inventing silly tipsy games with your best friends, trading your clothes in the bathroom, catching up as much as dancing with each other... And you never felt loved that much.

           Dean's love is the sun in the middle of your world, but now you can also see the stars, and it is probably the best night of your life so far.

           He managed to do something you never could for years and all your friends agreed with his crazy plan. They all had an early Christmas diner to be able to drive here, offer you too many drinks and be there for you. They all made it about you and you're both incredibly grateful and emotional. And since most of them will come sleep at the bunker -and eat all the leftovers with you tomorrow- you don't have to care about the time.

           Suddenly, a music note catches your ear.

           You know that note by heart. It is the first note of your favorite love song, it is the firsts notes of what Dean hums in your ear sometimes when he holds you after making love to you, pushing your hair on the side to see your sweaty bliss face.

           You turn you head and meet green eyes, closer than you expected.

"Hey" he says, taking your hand.

"Hey" you smile.

He tugs gently at your arm, pulling you away from the bar to wrap his arms around your waist.

           You have missed him. Of course he was here, but after everything he has done for you, you really have missed holding him, smelling his skin and kissing his lips.

           He starts to sway his hips really slightly, humming the love words of the song, and you throw your arms around his neck, looking up at his perfect face.

"She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes..." he whispers the lyrics, fingers grazing the skin of your neck.

And for the hundredth time today, your eyes fill with happy tears while his fingertips go down on your back to hold your waist again.

"Are you having fun ?" he asks low, one hand stroking your lower back tenderly, thumb pushing your shirt up discreetly to feel your skin.

"It's the best night of my life" you give him your most sincere smile. "Dean... You are really incredible, you know that ?"

"Yeah" he nods, hiding his shyness in a kiss on your lips.

"I really was ready to chose Christmas, you know ?" you state, swaying your hips slowly with him, forgetting the rest of the world in your bubble of love.

His plumb lips gently raise on the corner, and he lets go of you to search his pocket.

"I didn't have to choose between hunter life and happy life thanks to you, so I'll make sure you never have to choose between your birthday and Christmas" he murmurs in your ear, before kissing your temple.

His hand reach yours and he opens it to put a little thing on your palm.

"What do you say we had yet another thing to celebrate on that day ?" his breath tickles  your neck and you look down to your hand, discovering a little golden ring with a tiny blue stone in the middle of your shaking palm.

"Dean ?"

"Marry me Baby ?"

FEEDBACK IS SO IMPORTANT TO ME

Tags : @parinarain​​ @mogaruke​​ @masterof-agony​​ @rainflowermoon @tftumblin​​ @deans-baby-momma​​ @roonyxx​​ @thefaithfulwriter​​ @vicariouslythruspn​​ @emeow1496​​ @daryldixonandfrogs​​ @holylulusworld​​  @cocklesbelli @sandlee44​​ @screenchingartisancashbailiff @donnaintx​​ @stormchasingchick32​​ @akshi8278​​ @magssteenkamp​​ @sister-winchesters99​​ @neii3n​​  @lyss-dw79​​ @im-a-shrub @sadwaywardkid​​@hopelesslydevotedtoyou1912 @slyqueenj​​ @i-love-superhero​​ @waywardsisterandpie @sunsetsandbooks​​ @mrspeacem1nusone​​ @stylesismyhubs​​ @deanwanddamons​​ @jawritter​​ @peridottea91​​ @chelsea072498 @chocolateheart​​ @vicmc624​​ @teresa-67​​ @jessie-michael​​ @doctor-hp-mcu​​ @hawkerz12​​ @mariaenchanted​​ @hobby27​​ @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden​​ @thoughts-and-funnies​​ @suramyaa @yasreadsfics​

[agerefandom]

The TARDIS Playroom

Fandom: Doctor Who

Characters: Regressor!Thirteenth Doctor, Graham O’Brien

Words: 2,000

Summary: The TARDIS has had a playroom for a long time, and The Doctor doesn’t spend enough time in there. One day, while she’s regressing, Graham wanders into the TARDIS and finds her playing.

Warnings: Nothing that I can think of, aside from the accidental regression reveal! Little bit of baby talk around a pacifier near the end. Also, I didn’t bother to correct all my Canadianisms in this fic (ie. ‘pacifier’ instead of ‘dummy’), apologies if that bothers anyone!

for @andromedaspace​

It wasn’t often that The Doctor took a day off. There was always something interesting to do, somewhere to be, sometime that needed help getting back on track. But occasionally there was a lull: companions visiting families, no emergency broadcasts screeching through the TARDIS, just the hum of the ship and countless miles of corridors stretching into paradox space.

And then, maybe, if things had been busy lately, and there were injuries to nurse, and too many close calls… The Doctor would rest.

From the console room, the sounds of a Sheffield street could be heard through the front doors. Those doors were locked, the TARDIS tucked away into a little alcove between two fences down the street from Graham and Ryan’s house. Further into the TARDIS, music could be heard: an upbeat France Gall song. Hard to place the music in the twisting, impossible hallways of the TARDIS, but not impossible. Down a flight of stairs, and turning to the left, an open door revealed The Doctor’s current whereabouts.

Most of the TARDIS was warmly lit, crystals growing up the walls and in the centre of larger rooms. This room was no exception, stalactites hanging from the ceiling and providing a golden glow, but the floor wasn’t grated metal like the rest of the TARDIS. Here, the floor was covered in carpets, messily tossed over each other, and pillows and blankets on top of that, giving the room an appearance of a large and badly constructed bed.

The Doctor sat in the middle of the chaos, happily sucking on her pacifier. She’d chosen a new one after her most recent regeneration, blue and patterned with yellow jewels that sparkled in the crystal lights above her. A series of stuffed creatures were spread around her, some of the bigger ones leaning against the walls, and two of her favourites currently chatting in her lap, held up by her hands.

The policies of the N’ga’shto are more complicated than you’re making them seem! the blue Knashta was saying.

You’re being deliberately obtuse, his companion responded, a plush puppy The Doctor had picked up in Munich in 2032. The great Ish’ka is clearly a figurehead, and cannot be held responsible for the actions of his parliament.

The Doctor tilted her head back and forth between the two stuffies, making them bobble their heads as they argued. The act of playing pretend wasn’t something that had been practiced on Gallifrey, but the school-children were encouraged to debate foreign policy and challenge each other’s ability to recall the elders’ teachings. She enjoyed merging the two activities, watching her soft friends argue about things that mattered. If things got too intense or she got stuck, everything could be solved with a big hug and a nap. That was how playtime worked.

Sure enough, both the Knashta and unusually smart puppy were distracted when the next song came on, and started to dance, their soft legs tossing back and forth as The Doctor made them dance together. She laughed, her pacifier muffling the sound, and rolled onto her back, holding her plushies close. The puppy’s fur tickled her neck, and she pushed him off with a reproachful glance. The Doctor did not like to be tickled.

Well… did she? She certainly hadn’t, in most of her regenerations, but she didn’t think anyone had tried yet. Yasmin and Ryan would occasionally get into spats, trying to poke each other’s sides, but they never went after Graham or The Doctor. She would have to find some way to figure that out!

The Doctor ran her fingers down her sides, but it didn’t feel very ticklish when she did it. Sighing, she rolled over on top of her Knashta plush and rested her forehead on the carpeted floor. This was one of her favourites in the room, a rich oriental pattern that was so very soft to lie on. She ran her hands over the fabric, humming happily, and then pushed herself back to sitting.

It was while The Doctor was pushing herself up that she finally saw Graham standing in the hallway, hand raised as if to knock on the open door.

Her mouth opened in surprise and her pacifier fell out, landing on one of the pillows under her knees. She clutched her Knashta to her chest, automatically defensive. There was no reason to be scared, she knew, not of Graham, but this was her secret room, and he wasn’t supposed to see all this!

Oh, but she had been stupid, not asking the TARDIS to let her know if one of her companions used their key to come for a visit.

“I can go if it’s a bad time?” Graham said, finally lowering his hand from where it had been hovering by the door. “I didn’t mean to bother you, Doc. I texted a while ago and you didn’t get back to me.”

The Doctor had left her phone in the pocket of her normal clothes, which she didn’t wear at playtime. All at once, she was very aware of her bare knees. She loved her shorts and all of their many pockets, but they weren’t for people-time, they were for playtime! She tugged a pillow out of the pile and pushed it against her knees, frowning in Graham’s direction.

Then she felt bad for being rude: Graham hadn’t done anything wrong, after all. She was the one who hadn’t texted back.

“Ah, sorry,” she managed, gesturing for the TARDIS to turn the music off. “Don’t have my phone with me. Was it… important?” The Doctor tilted her head to the side.

“Not in the least,” Graham chuckled. “I was just wondering if you wanted to come for dinner, that’s all. Going to flex my cooking muscles, make some stir fry. Very impressive stuff.”

“Mmm.” The Doctor nodded, making her lips smile.

“Listen, I really am sorry for coming in without shouting first.” Graham pushed his hands into his pockets, looking guilty. “TARDIS has started to feel a little too much like home, but it’s your ship. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“No, no!” Oh, she’d made everything bad and now Graham would feel uncomfortable and he wouldn’t want to come and visit her anymore. “I, you can come anywhere! The TARDIS is your home! This room isn’t just for me, it’s nice for sleepovers, and… I can share?” The Doctor held her stuffie out in front of her, trying not to look too worried.

“That’s a nice gesture, Doc. May I come in?”

“Yes, of course! No shoes.” The Doctor sat back on her heels and watched Graham toe off his boots, stepping onto the soft patchwork surface of the carpets. He was looking around, and The Doctor followed his gaze: mismatched pillows, piles of soft bedding, stuffed animals bigger than she could wrap her arms around, all scattered across the space. Did Graham think it was weird?

“Do you hate it?” she heard herself ask. She never did have a very good brain to mouth filter.

“Hate it?” Graham seemed genuinely surprised by the question. “No, kiddo, it looks super cozy. How often do you spend time here?”

The Doctor attempted to untangle timelines in her mind, straighten them out along human measurements.

“Every few months?” she guessed, rubbing the Knashta’s head between its many button eyes. “Not a lot.”

“That’s a crying shame.” Graham folded himself into a sitting position in front of her, hands on his knees. “Space like this deserves lots of time. Look at all these blankets!” He looked at her for permission as he reached out, and The Doctor liked that. She gave him a nod, and he tugged one of the fuzzy blankets onto his lap. “There, now I feel cozy.” He tucked it in around his knees and toes, and settled down with a sigh. “Who’s your friend?”

“They’re a Knashta,” The Doctor said, fighting down a silly wave of shyness as she held her friend out for Graham to see. “They’re a rebel and they don’t like big leaders, but they lack revolutionary nuance.”

“And do they have a name?”

The Doctor shook her head. She didn’t name most of her stuffies because remembering all those names would take a lot of memory space, and she preferred to remember the names of all the real people she saw from day to day.

“Hmmm, would you mind if I gave them a name?” Graham asked, running a hand over his stubbly cheeks as he smiled. The Doctor knew that Graham only did that when he was really happy, and usually when he was outside in the sun. It was nice that he was doing it here, with her, in the crystal-lit playroom of the TARDIS.

“You can give them a name if you want.” The Doctor’s shoulders were starting to hurt from holding up the plushie, but she would hold them up until they received a name. Names were important, so Graham needed to look closely.

“Well, let’s think for a moment.” Graham rubbed his chin, pushed his eyebrows together, and pursed his lips. The Doctor fought down a laugh at his exaggerated thinking expression. “I’ve got it! They look like a Greg.”

“Greg?” The Doctor said dubiously, looking at the Knashta. Knashtar usually had much longer names, but sometimes they took shorter nicknames when visiting other planets. It could be short for Gr’egtha’shvantanos, which was a proper Knashta name.

“Undoubtedly.” Graham smacked his hands against his knees. “I’d know a Greg anywhere.”

The Doctor brought Greg back to her chest, hugging them firmly. Their eyes pressed against the bottom of her chin, but that was alright. No one said love was easy. “I love Greg.”

“They love you too,” Graham said.

“Do they?” The Doctor wasn’t sure why the question slipped out of her. All of her friends in the playroom loved her, and she loved them. That was what plushies were for, loving and being loved. Soft and simple and comforting.

“There’s not a person who can get a hug from you and not love you, Doc. Take my word on it.”

The Doctor hid her smile behind her newly named Greg, glancing up to see Graham with a matching grin.

“You dropped this, by the way.” Graham hooked a finger through the handle of her pacifier and brought it up. “Yours, kiddo?”

The Doctor nodded reluctantly. She had been hoping Graham hadn’t seen it, but he clearly had. That was one of the things that wasn’t a people-time thing. Even if it was very comforting and helped her think, even when she was big.

“Here you go.” Graham offered it to her and The Doctor opened her mouth automatically. Graham blinked: oh, he’d wanted to hand it to her. Before The Doctor could correct her mistake, he reached forward and popped the dummy into her mouth. She hummed, relaxing with the familiar pressure on her tongue.

“T’nk y’u,” she said around the pacifier.

“Not a problem,” Graham said, and patted her on the head. Oh, that was nice… she had so missed people touching her hair. Almost before she knew what she was doing, she chased the touch, pressing into Graham’s hand. “Oh! Hello.” Graham chuckled, but willingly scratching his fingers through her hair, all the way to the back of her scalp.

The Doctor melted, her head coming to rest on Graham’s knee, with Greg the Knashta held close against her. They were her new favourite. But also, Graham was her new favourite, as long as he kept petting her head.

“Well. You’re over here now,” he said, and moved a piece of her hair out of her face. “Big flop, Doc. Thinking about a nap?”

“M’ybe,” The Doctor sighed, closing her eyes as Graham started to comb his fingers through her hair again.

“I’ve gotta be home at six to start dinner, but there’s plenty of time for a nap before then. I’ll stay here with you.”

“L’v y’u,” The Doctor said, the world already getting softer around her. She could feel Graham’s affection and comfort radiating from his hands. Thanks to the physical contact, she was receiving vague thoughts and impressions, so she heard Graham’s response before he said it out loud.

“Love you too, kiddo. Sleep well.”

[gotnofucks]

Congruence

Written for @holylulusworld 10k follows challenge!

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader, Loki x Reader

Trope: Love Triangle

Summary: Stephen and Loki want you. You are confused. Wong is an angsty person.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: None? Strong language, I think. Fluff and bad English (not my first language)

A/N: This is my first time writing something like this so please bear with me. Also, I’m a sucker for happy endings so…yeah.

MASTERLIST

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------

Wong was losing his fucking mind. He was one more broken vase away from cursing in Vedic Sanskrit and spent every hour cursing Thor for sending his miscreant brother to live at the New York Sanctum. He could have gone to Hong Kong, or maybe London where he would have fit right in with that English accent. But no! He had to send him here in New York with Wong and Stephen and you.

You had been living at the sanctum for only two months when Thor literally dropped Loki here. Wong and Stephen had been sitting in the living room when the ceiling cracked open and someone fell from the sky with a resounding THUD. Loki had looked up from the floor with utter contempt in his face at his brother who landed solidly on his feet.

“Hey there, doctor!” Thor bellowed, patting Stephen roughly on the shoulder and gave Wong a bear hug.

The sorcerers had stared at the two Asgardians with absolute shock on their faces until Wong exploded.

“Can you please for fucks sake use the door like a normal person!? Every time you are here you break something! The ceiling for god’s sake! Do you have any idea how much time and effort it takes to repair that?”

Thor looked at the ceiling with no remorse while his brother dusted himself off.

“Can’t you just, you know, reverse time with the stone and fix it?” Thor asked, taking a seat without being offered one.

“What are you doing here? And why, if I may ask, is your brother here?” Stephen asked rolling his eyes. Thor made the occasional stop at the Sanctum from time to time just for the fun of it. Banner bet him 10 bucks it has a lot to do with Wong being recently single, Stephen disagrees and says its because their kitchen is always stocked with Pop Tarts.

“Ah, you can keep my brother” Thor said nonchalantly, stretching his legs out and being comfy in his chair.

“Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are, trying to treat me like an object?” Loki spat.

Before Thor could retort, Stephen banged his hand on the table. “I have no plans to keep your brother, Odinson. Pray, take him and leave. And while you’re at it, put some money on the table for the ceiling. We may have magic, but we don’t use it to put splintered wood back together.”

“You must keep him doctor, for the good of the nine realms.” Thor said, raising his hands slightly in resignation.

“Have you started another war already?” Wong asked curiously, eyeing the God of Mischief who looked about ready to stab his brother.

“He hasn’t, yet. But I’m leaving Midgard for some time and Valkyrie doesn’t want him around. They will end up killing each other by the end of the week. He’s got magic, you can make use of him here. Hell, make him fix that ceiling.” Thor said.

Loki was seething at having been treated like a naughty child while the adults talked around him. They hadn’t let him utter a word in his defense and he doubted it would matter if they did hear him out. Whatever, he didn’t want to stay with Valkyrie either. Before Thor dragged him here, he’d switched all her alcohol with fruit juice. She would be spitting fire for days and he was safer here. And so, it was decided that Loki would stay at the sanctum until Thor returned. What he would do here remains to be seen. Stephen wasn’t pleased with the situation, but he’d rather Loki stay here than cause some other world ending event that would drag him and other Avengers out to clean up his mess later.

You were in the library when this weird turn of events was happening, so you hadn’t had the chance to meet Loki yet. You were a new recruit at the sanctum, chosen personally by Wong who felt they needed more than just two sorcerers to protect this place. Until then you were under training with both of them and were still getting your feel of this space. You had so far met no one other than your two mentors so you were rightfully surprised to stumble on man wearing green cape and eating your cereal in the kitchen. You stopped in your tracks and looked at him curiously while he did the same, chewing slowly.

“Y/n meet Loki. He’ll be staying with us for some time”, Wong said as ways of introduction. Wong adored you since he saw you in Kamartaj and had you brought here as soon as your preliminary training there was over. You were still very young, only in your 20s, so you brought with yourself a light and life that had previously been lacking in this sacred place. Ever since you came here, the sanctum had flower vases in almost every room and soft music could be heard at odd times. You didn’t take long to adjust to your life in New York and often forced both Stephen and Wong to eat something other than take out. You laughed and smiled and brought with yourself a woman’s touch to this dreary place. Wong wasn’t the only one affected. Stephen, who had initially been very against the idea of another sorcerer in the sanctum warmed up to you quick enough. So warm in fact that Wong could almost call it affection.

“Hi Loki, does your cape float too?” You asked and sat across him, pouring some cereal and milk into your bowl. Loki stopped eating and bent his head a little to the side, curious.

“It doesn’t.” He said at last.

“That sucks, I love flying cloaks. Stephen’s cloak – I call it Levi – loves to take me on rides. If your cape were a sentient too, maybe they could have been friends. Everyone should have friends, even clothes.”

Loki was looking at you with a small, amused smile.

“I can enchant it for a few hours; however, it won’t remain animated forever.” Loki said. He didn’t like talking to strangers, but you were so sweet, so unafraid of him that it pleased him. You had no awkwardness when you spoke, and no note of hatred in your voice, something that didn’t happen often in his conversations with people.

Your eyes brightened and you launched into a discussion about animation enchantments, something that the masters at Kamartaj had steered clear off. They were very adamant about how to use magic, and walking furniture was somewhere they drew the line. Loki’s magic was very different to yours and it fascinated you. This was how Stephen found you, deep in conversation with an amused Loki who looked at you softly. He scowled.

“What’s happening here?”, he asked, coming to stand behind you.

“Did you know it’s possible to morph your body in someone else’s completely? Solid illusions!”, you prattled on.

“Of course, I know, I just don’t use it.” Stephen said and took the seat beside you.

“You never said! You’ll teach me?” Your eyes were bright as you asked this, and it was with great restraint Stephen shook his head and said no. He found it difficult denying you anything and if he ever admitted it to himself, he would say he’s fond of you. Very fond.

Your face fell at his denial.

“You won’t teach me? Why?”

“Some magic is too advanced for you right now. We’ll build it up and maybe someday I’ll teach you, although I’m not fond of it. Some magic is just…silly.”

Loki was looking at your exchange with a small smirk and as you lowered your face in dejection, he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table and looked straight at you.

“I can teach you.” He said and watched your eyebrows raise before a small smile formed on them. You looked happy until you remembered your mentor sitting beside you and looked at him with a forlorn expression. Stephen’s hands clenched and he resisted the urge to mash Loki’s face in his cereal.

“Like hell you would! I’m her instructor and the only thing you’re doing is staying out of trouble.” Stephen said, one hand leaning over the back of your chair, a gesture not lost on Loki.

“Didn’t Thor say I could be of help here? Well, this is it. I could help teach Y/n and we can compare notes on our magic. Wouldn’t you like that, Y/n?” Loki asked you in a sweet voice and you nodded eagerly, eyes pleading with Stephen to agree. You looked so earnest, so willing to learn, that Stephen couldn’t find it in himself to say no. He wanted to, he wanted to shout that he will teach you all you needed to know and more, that he is someone you can rely on. But he simply said yes.

Throughout this whole conversation, Wong, who was busy cooking hadn’t said a thing but if the stiffness in his shoulders was to go by, he was not a happy man. He knew some shit was about to go down, and lord did he not want to be a part of it.

From that day, what happened in the Sanctum was something Wong could only call an over glorified dick-measuring contest between Stephen and Loki. They did all but whip their tools out and boink each other on the head with it.  

It started from little things like teaching you something new and praising you about it. You loved to have your work being acknowledged and would blush a deep red at being praised. Loki had fumed for hours watching you and Stephen work and you giggling with a red face as Stephen told you what a good job you had done. In retaliation, Loki started teaching you enchantments and when you got them right, he would pat your hand and tell you that you were a good girl. That blush, and the glare he received from Stephen was a treat.

It didn’t stop with academics. The men started vying for your attention in the kitchen, each trying their hardest to win you over with more and more complicated dishes. Wong put his foot down when Loki made a Nutella sandwich that was a foot high and dripped with toasted marshmallows that took hours to scrub off. Stephen had laughed outrageously when Wong scolded Loki, telling him to clean up his mess and if he ever did something like this again, he’ll be using his toothbrush to clean the sanctum. Stephen stopped laughing however when Wong turned to him with a spatula in his hand. “And you! You’re banned from cooking too. I can’t go shopping every day to get you ingredients because you want to make Y/n pastries and pies and stupid Turkish delights three times a day. Out of my kitchen! Now!”

The antics continued, more often than naught resulting in skirmishes between the two men which in turn resulted in a lot of broken vases, furniture, and in some rare events, bones. They fought over who you spent more time with, smiled wider at, and laughed harder at. It drove Wong crazy, an unfortunate bystander to the playground tricks of two boys fighting over a toy. But you were more than a toy, that he could tell.

You weren’t oblivious to what was happening. You were young, not naïve and so you spent your days very amused. You didn’t mind this attention, far from it in fact. Two very handsome and powerful men, for reasons best known to them, were trying their best to impress you. It made you giddy and feel wanted, but also confused because while you weren’t in love with either of them, you didn’t think you’d be able to choose one when the time came for it. Surely, they can’t keep doing this forever and will one day give you the ultimatum to make a choice. You dreaded that day because with each passing day, with each sweet gesture and praise, with each hug lasting a little longer and each eye contact being a little hotter, you were reminded that with choosing one you would lose the other. That didn’t seem like the happy ending you wanted.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Loki was at his wit’s end and knee deep in books and ancient relics. He had scrounged every storeroom and tome trying to find what he wanted to no avail. His hair was disheveled from running his hands through it too many times and he wished you would braid it like you’d done a couple nights ago. What had begun simply as an amusing prank to show up Stephen Strange ended up being a true gamble in the game of love. He didn’t really expect to start liking you like this. Sure, you were different, and he acknowledged that fact within minutes of meeting you. But he didn’t know that he would seriously start considering his intentions towards you. At most he had hoped he would find a friend in you, but he didn’t just want to be a friend anymore. He wanted you with your tinkling laugh and ability to cast spells far above your level. He wanted to see you defend him against Thor and to tell you stories of Asgard as you took a walk through New Asgard by his side. He wanted you so bad and he’d be damned if that red cloak wearing second rate wizard took you from him.

“What in the world are you doing?” Wong asked as he entered Loki’s room to find it strewn with books and odd ornaments. Loki was sitting on the floor looking quite frustrated, and well, a little pathetic.

“I can’t find it. I’ve searched almost every book and every relic you have here. I can’t find it!” Loki moaned. Wong didn’t know what he was looking for, but he felt a small spark of pity for the god.

“What are you looking for?”

“Aladdin’s lamp”

There was a pregnant pause in the room.

“Excuse me?”

“Aladdin’s lamp. Y/n was talking about how Strange’s cloak – Levi as she calls it – would have loved having the flying carpet as his friend. And I asked her about this carpet, and she told me it belonged to the Genie who came out of Aladdin’s lamp when rubbed. I want that lamp so I can ask this Genie fellow to loan me his carpet”

It was a tough battle between laughing and patting the god on his head like a small child. Wong fought the impulse to do either and sat down on a chair after depositing the books on it on the table. “You won’t find it here”, he told Loki whose head shot up at this.

“Why not? Is it at some other sanctum? London?”

“It’s…nowhere.”, Wong said and raised a hand to stop Loki from interrupting. “Aladdin is a fictional story, so is the lamp and the genie and the carpet. Y/n loves reading about them and watching the movie adaptations. She likes to see how morals have interpreted magic.”

Loki’s mouth dropped open and for a moment he looked about ready to cry for having wasted so many hours searching for something that didn’t exist. Then, he miraculously started laughing.

“Norns! This woman drives me up a wall! She mentions one thing and I just want to do that for her. I’m not even mad at her or myself, just disappointed that I’ll have to search for something else to get her now. What the hell happened to me?”

Wong looked at a man who was very nearly, if not already in love with you. He didn’t like Loki very much, but he didn’t want this man to go through a heart break either. He would have to talk to you, soon.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Stephen fancied himself a step ahead of Loki because he had known you a little bit longer, but if he was being honest, there wasn’t much to go by. His insecurities had a lot to do with that, for he believed you would prefer Loki, a handsome man over a scarred man like him. But you had never mentioned anything about his slightly trembling hands. You had taken to his life without a hitch and so seamlessly blended into a routine with him, Stephen felt like you had always been a part of his life. He couldn’t remember when you’d started helping him tie his robes, or necktie when the occasion called for it. He couldn’t remember when he’d started eating home cooked meals instead of takeout at the deli Wong preferred. One day he was living without you, and the other you had taken over every aspect of his life and made it ten times as beautiful. He didn’t know if he could go back to living life as he did before you, and he’d be damned if some green-bean god tried to take you away from him.

“I am going to regret asking this but what are you trying to do?”, Wong asked Stephen who was standing in the middle of his meditation room holding his cloak. Well, holding might not be the correct term. Dancing…with his cloak.

“I am teaching Levi how to waltz”, Stephen said and continued to guide the piece of fabric through the leg movements. Wong watched this with morbid fascination before sputtering incredulously.

“Why?”

“Y/n loves to waltz and as I don’t always have enough time to indulge her, I’m teaching my cloak how to do it so it can keep her company. You’ll do that won’t you, Levi?”

To Wong’s utter astonishment the cloak seemed to nod and was almost elegant in his movements. For a good few minutes Wong watched this scene before sighing. Smitten, both of them. Absolutely wrapped around your finger and most definitely on their way to fall in love. Stephen was his best friend and he looked so happy since you got here, it warmed Wong’s heart to finally see Stephen smile and be genuinely happy.

He really really needed to talk to you and ask you whom you planned to be with, if any of them at all. This is exactly the sort of drama Wong hated and he was sure no matter what you said, someone was going to get their heart broken.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were going to do it. You were going to do it today and tell them your decision because you couldn’t take it anymore. The hostility between Loki and Stephen was getting on your nerves and you couldn’t spend a minute in one’s company before being interrupted by the other. In the end, you just left them both, hence losing the joy of both their presence. And poor Wong. You could see him trying to summon courage for what you knew was going to be a very uncomfortable talk. The past few months Loki had lived here had been the best and worst months of your life. But now that things were starting to affect not just your friendship but also your academics (because both your instructors ended up attacking each other and spent two days in the sick bay), you needed to make a choice. So, you did what you did best and got to baking.

“It smells like Valhalla here, Y/n”, Loki said as he watched you work.

“Why won’t you let us see what you’re making?” Stephen asked, trying to look around you but you glared at him and he sat down again.

“Will you both for god’s sake ask the important question? Why the hell are we wearing these outfits?” Wong grumbled.

You looked at the three men seated around the table in Harry Potter robes, each holding a handmade wand and pointy hat you’d forced them to wear. They had protested and whined (I’m not a witch for Norn’s sake!) but had given in easier than you thought. You really did have them wrapped around your little finger.

“Could you wait for like two minutes? This needs to be perfect!” You chirped and got back to your tray.

“I’m too old to be doing cosplay”, Wong said with a huff.

“Shut up”

It took you another ten minutes to perfect your stuff, a tray lined with identical muffins with Hogwarts logo and the sorting hat on top. Picking it up you sat it down on the table before the three men and then sat down yourself.

“These are the sorting muffins but with a twist”, you declared. Loki looked on with interest. He’d watched and read all the Harry Potter books and movies at your behest.

“I hate this, and I hate twists. The last time I saw a twist was when this one-”, Wong pointed at Stephen “-annoyed a cosmic being into accepting defeat. I still get nightmares about that”

“Oh, don’t be so dull Wong. These are compatibility muffins. We don’t need sorting, we’re already sorted. You are obviously a Ravenclaw because you’re the librarian, Stephen is of course Gryffindor because Levi is red, similarly Loki is Slytherin because that cape is definitely a Slytherin green. And I am a Hufflepuff because I am the best.” Your speech did not have the jubilant response you expected, and you crossed your arm with a deep disappointed sigh. Stereotypical as your sorting had been you expected something more than blank faces.

“So, what are these muffins for?”, Stephen asked.

“We all take one and see what color filling we find. The person whose house we get, that’s the person we’re most compatible with.” Now you had your expected response. Both Loki and Stephen sat at attention eyeing the muffins critically, trying their hardest to guess which one had the yellow icing in the middle. Beside them Wong groaned and facepalmed. Of all the ways for you to choose a partner, trust you to play a game of luck involving a children’s fantasy book. He was regretting putting that talk off now.

“So, if I get blue…” Loki trailed off

“Yeah, you and Wong can go make out in the corner” You answered. “But of course, Wong must get green too you know, or you’d have to find another Ravenclaw. Consent is important after all”

It was the dumbest shit you had ever come up with. You knew it, everyone else knew it. But if this was how it was supposed to go so be it. Everyone ignored Wong’s complain of ruining a good desert and set out to choose their most perfect muffin. They were all identical to the last crumb, and it took an annoyingly large amount of time for both your suitors to choose their pieces. After they had deliberated and finally chosen their muffins, you casually selected one and motioned for Wong to do the same.

Finally, with muffins in all your hands and eyes full of anticipation and trepidation, you all took a bite.

Stephen’s face broke out in a grin as he showed off his bitten muffin with a yellow center. That smile however turned into a frown as Loki showed a yellow centered muffin too. Wong, feeling utterly stupid showed his red centered muffin and then all eyes turned to you. With a straight face you turned your muffin and-

“Motherfucker!”, Wong cried and with his head in his hands began laughing and crying simultaneously. Loki and Stephen looked stunned, staring open mouthed at the two-colored center of your muffin. Red and green.

“What?” They both said.

“I can’t choose. I just can’t. That’s not who I am.” You said and looked them both straight in the eye, hoping they’ll see reason in what you’re saying. “How do you choose between two people who love so much? You can’t quantify that feeling, you can never tell if its greater for someone or not. Call me a coward or a bitch, I don’t care. This is the truth. I love you Stephen. I love all your music references and stupid movies you make me watch. And I love you Loki, with that English accent and your horrible cooking. I love you both and I am here if you’ll have me. This is what I can offer you, because I sure as hell can’t break either of yours heart.”

You didn’t know what was going to happen. You hadn’t exactly meant to drop the L-word, but well, it was true. You couldn’t break their hearts, so you put the ball in their court and allowed them to break yours instead. It was much better than going through with the pain of choosing one of them, especially when your heart beats simultaneously for two. You braced yourself for rejection, because sharing a person you love is never easy. But if you have to share it with a person you hate, well, its almost impossible.

Loki and Stephen looked at you and then at each other. They seemed to be having some sort of wordless conversation and the longer they remained silent, the more you felt like you’d made a mistake and lost them both. Finally, they nodded at each other and then looked at you.

“I hate this second-rate wizard”

“I hate you too, green puny god”

“But we love you more.”

You blinked once and then again. It took a minute to register what they said but then you were flying and the next second you were in their arms, one man at your front while the other at your back. Sobs whacked your small body as the tension of past few months left you in your lovers’ embrace and you could finally breath easy. You pulled away and looked up with a tear stained face at Loki and Stephen, a watery smile that they reciprocated.

“So, we can finally have sex now after months of violent foreplay”, you remarked making them both laugh and pull you in their arms again. This was it. This was your safe space, your heaven.

Wong was forgotten as the three embraced and he was as baffled as he had ever been. Only you could have pulled off something so crazy. He was so glad he almost joined the group hug himself. No more broken furniture, no more shouting and no more messy kitchens. Life could go back to normal. As soon as he said that thunder rumbled outside and the ceiling cracked, depositing Thor in front of them wearing his armor and red cape.

“What’s happening here?” He boomed, looking around as if he hasn’t just vandalized their home again.

“You’re such a Gryffindor!” You cried, still delirious with joy and hugged Thor who had till now never met you. “I need to shave my whole body!” And saying this you ran away leaving the men staring at your back.

“Who’s that? And what’s a Gryffindor?” Thor asked, sitting at the kitchen table, and stretching his legs. He spotted the muffins and picked one up, taking a huge chunk out. It was blue from within. Both Loki and Stephen turned to look at a red-faced Wong who was cursing in Sanskrit.

“Looks like Banner was right. I owe him 10 bucks”, Stephen laughed.

[marsandsaturn]

Can I ask for an ansty one-shot with aizawa, where he has to choose over the reader or one of his friends, and the reader conforts him, could be dirty or not

NOOOOOOO YOU CAN’T MAKE ME, I REFUSE.....JK IM GONNA DO IT BECAUSE ITS AIZAWA BUT GOD I AM GOZING TO CRIIIII. Gender: Female Reader but it actually seems like a Gender Neutral  Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Shota Aizawa. Not as known Endeavour or All might, but he is known if you are a fan of underground heroes. You were a super fan of underground Heroes, and luckily for you one of classes, you had to write as essay on a Pro-Hero. While other choose the top 20s or top 10 you chose your favorite Hero. Eraserhead. You had gotten a 100 on that essay, and usually when you do good on a essay for go to your favorite Coffee, Tea, or Boba, place, so that is what you did. What you didn’t expect was that the Pro-Hero was also at that place. You had literally ran into him and fell on your butt. Of course this old man,,,Elizabeth he’s like 31 calm down he’s not that old,,,would fall in love with a senior in college.  Now you were a successful(the career you want in real life apply hear) and dating the Pro-Hero Eraserhead. The first two years were good, lots of cuddling, and hanging out at each other’s apartment. Eventually meeting his class was eventful. Lets just say your favorite students were, Hitoshi Shinsou and Shoto Todoroki, but that’s a secret only for you. But after two years a rough patch began to form. You see, you tended to get attached to people because of your mommy and daddy issues, but I am not going into detail about thats, so you weren’t often trying to be wit Aizawa as much as you can. And although he didn’t mind hanging out with you, he would have liked to hang out with his friends, specifically, Mic and Midnight. So the three of them went out to the club tonight, Midnight’s idea. You on the other hand were a bit upset that you weren’t invited but you pride wouldn’t never let you tell Aizawa how you feel, you stayed in your bed watching anime because why not. But that’s not when you snapped. One night he decided to go out again with his friends, and then another night, and another night, but those nights never bothered you. It was went he had promised the two of you to go out on a date, but instead you saw Aizawa on Mic’s Private story at a club instead of in his car on his away to pick you up. You snapped. You fell to the ground crying and hugging you knees. This is silly. It was okay that he forgot, it will only be one night. This was not going to be only one night, he hates you, you ask for too much, you can’t do things by yourself, he’s gonna leave you. No no Shota would never leave me, he promised, and he has never broken his promises. He broke one tonight. The devil and the angel in your head kept arguing as you dragged yourself out of the apartment. What were you going to do? Confront him like those girls you have seen all over Instagram. Why? Because you knew that you were going to drive him away, you always did. When you arrived, the three of them exited the club on their way to a fast food restaurant, when Midnight saw you. “Zawa isn’t that Y/N?” He turned his head and spotted you looking towards the grounds with your phone in your hand, looking through a bunch of pictures, but not of him, but of people who left you, you never deleted them because you had gotten to attached and didn’t want to delete them. His eyes widen when he realized the two of you had a date tonight. He called out your name you looked up, but tears began to run down your face as soon as you looked into his eyes. He walked towards you and grabbed your arm but you pulled away. “What did I do Shota? Please just answer this? Every time I ask someone this they never answer and try to ignore the question. I just wanna know, what I am doing wrong with each relationship of friendship I had.” You were sobbing at this point, but he pulled the two of you into a alleyway, “What do you mean?” “I have never wanted to be one of those girls, but I can’t take it anymore, not when I am in pain. Why do you chose them every time. I understand that they were there before me but you have been hanging out then them more than me. I haven’t even been in your arms in a month. I just want to love you, kiss you, cuddle you, have dinner with you, maybe lunch or breakfast. I just want you, but I probably did something wrong for you to not want to be around me anymore, fuck, please tell me what I did or am doing wrong so I can either fix it or leave” Shota was a mess, but not as much as you. Most people would have an explanation as to why they were hanging out with their friends more then their s/o but he didn’t have one. Not without giving it away. He wanted to do this on your birthday in your apartment but he didn’t know how much longer he could last. But he understood your pain. He knew the question you were asking, and he had an answer. “Y/N you have done nothing wrong, yes I forgot about tonight’s date, my love, I didn’t want to do this hear and especially in this situation but I can’t loose you. The day you told me about what you wanted to be I truly fell in love. I’m sorry I caused you all this pain”  He bends down to touch your forehead with yours. He loved you too much. This man was whipped for you, or as Denki would state, a simp for you. He loved everything about you from the little things you do when your focused, to the 3 am adventures through the city that you post of your 3 am with Y/N private story that he watched while on patrol. He loved when you would try to cook but fail and almost burn down the apartment, and he loved whenever you would bake, because your baking was the best. He closes his eyes before removing his forehead that was against your and moves his lips towards your quivering ones. Both of your lips were soft, but yours tasted with vanilla with caramel, and his tasted like peppermint, a chapstick you bought him for when the holidays were around. He decided to put the chapstick on again now that it was November and holidays were coming up. He knew you loved when his lips tasted like peppermint. In this moment, you felt safe, you felt like you were home, which was something you haven’t felt in a while. You missed the softness of his hair, the way he looked at you, the way your heart missed a beat whenever he was around, the way he would lay in your arms after a long day, the way the two of you were sit in the bath with bubbles, or when the two of you would watch movies together, or how you two would just read together. “Y/N marry me” The man with the scar under his eye asked, You were shocked. This perfect man wanted to marry you. He wanted to marry a mess that was called Y/N. He wanted to marry you, out of all the people he chose you.

You began to tear up and give him a hug which he returned with a kiss to your forehead. He didn’t care how messed up you were, he wanted you for you. He knew from the moment he met you but didn’t accept that he wanted to marry you until you became successful in your career. “Shota” You called out his name. He pulled back away from the hug and looked at your face. HIs face was filled with love, but not just any love. It was love for you, it was love for the love of his life, his Y/N, “Can we have a June Wedding?”  “Y/N is that a reference to the Vampire Diaries” ‘How’d you know Sho?” He laughed. But he knew that you accepted his proposal. He knew that you want him to be your husband as he wanted you to be his wife. “Actually I’d like a winter wedding because summer weddings suck and I have a list why” You began as he chuckled and kissed you one more time before leading you out the allyway. As soon as the two of you wanted out, Mic and Midnight began to cheer. Of course they were there to witness his proposing to you, they were his best friends after all.

“I love you Sho” “I love you too baby”

Author’s Note: I cried like twice TWICE. I wrote this and I made myself cry. Now I am not saying this is good but I hope it was to your satisfaction :) Please request more stuff like his I really enjoy these. Also sorry if there as any spelling mistakes or grammar mistakes I was in a rush to write this as I have assignments due in a few hours sooo. Enjoy ! :) To make are request click here!

[haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles]

burnt out

school has completely wiped you out, and just when you need it most Iwaizumi is there to pick you back up again. 

genre: fluff, comfort  words: 1.2k

a/n: listen im in vet school taking 27 credits and this past week was an absolute shit show so i wrote this in a hour bc i really needed some comfort, hope you can find some in it as well 💖J

taglist: @kurosarium @apollochjld @afterglowkuroo

Iwaizumi finds you curled up on the couch when he gets home, wrapped up in a blanket so thoroughly all he can see is your face. If he couldn’t see your expression, he might’ve laughed at you. Instead, his heart stumbles in his chest at your impossibly tired and broken face. He knows these past couple weeks in school have been hard for you, but judging from your demeanor, you’ve hit the breaking point.

You slide your ghostly face over to him, giving him a quiet greeting before turning your attention back to the TV that he’s not even sure you’re watching. He carefully slides his shoes off, walks silently into the living room and picks your legs up to he can sit on the couch next to you. You barely pay him any mind.

“What are you watching?” He asks after a moment.

There’s no reply from you for a few seconds. Then a quiet, “Just some baking show,” emits from the bundle of blankets.

He closes his eyes slowly, worming his hands underneath the blanket to set them on your bare legs. Again, you pay him no mind. Not until he starts rubbing his hands along your calves, massaging them between his fingers before moving up your legs and to your thighs.

It’s then that you know he’s knows something is up. Rarely does he ever indulge you in the magic of his hands—only when he knows you’re wound up about something or you convince him very thoroughly does he spoil you. He wonders how long it will take for you to speak up. Similarly, he knows that you know he’s onto you.

“Hajime?” You say quietly, still unmoving from your blanket burrito.

“Yes?”

Now a large huff escapes you, but it stutters halfway through, indicating you’re attempting not to cry. “School really sucks.” Is all you manage to say through your trembling lips that he can’t see.

He sighs deeply through his nose, his hands still moving methodically along your legs. “I know sweetheart.” He knows that some days—most days its torture for you to watch him go to work every day while you’re still stuck in some classroom. He knows it isn’t easy when he can kick back for the night while you retreat back to the office to hunch over your computer for a few more hours.

Very slowly, you rise from the blankets, shifting so that you can straddle his lap and wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his neck. He’s warm and solid and his scent is overwhelmingly comforting to you. It also helps that his hands spread across your back and start working into the muscles of it. Only when your body starts shaking ever so slightly does he pause his ministrations.

Through muffled sniffles you say, “I did terrible on another test and now I can’t stop thinking about it and I know I shouldn’t dwell on it, but I can’t stop. And all I can think about is that I’m not good enough and I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Why am I even doing this to myself?”

He guides your head off his neck, holding it in his hands and forcing you to look at him. Seeing you like this, tears rolling down your cheeks over some damn test that he knows means a lot to you makes his heart break. He looks at you seriously, his deep brown eyes boring into you when he says, “Are you going to make me say it?” You huff, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks, lips trembling with the effort to not break out into full blown sobbing. It’s so stupid—you know it is. But you can’t help it. Not when you put so much time and energy into something just to get knocked down. Continuing to hold your head in his hands, he smooths his thumbs across your cheeks, wiping some tears away.

“You are one of the smartest people I know. And I am so proud of you. I know it’s hard. I’ll tell you every day that you’re good enough if that’s what it takes. And as much as you don’t want to hear it, it’s just a test.”

A broken laugh escapes you at how sincere he is. He presses his lips to your forehead before letting you nestle up next to him again, your tears subsiding in the comfort and solace of his arms. “I know I’m being ridiculous,” you mutter, knowing just how silly this is. But it was just the last straw from the last few weeks of shoving as much information into your brain as possible every day. You spend almost every waking moment thinking about school and it’s frustrating to feel like it’s all for nothing.

“Maybe just a little bit,” he chuckles pressing another kiss to your temple, his hands moving on to rub your shoulders. He pulls you away from him a little so he can give you a proper kiss, his skilled hands wrapping around the back of your neck to press you close to him telling you exactly what he thinks about that nagging thought of ‘not good enough’ he knows you have.

Your hands drift down to his shirt, fingers curling into his collar, allowing yourself to let it go. It’s one test. It’s not the end of the world. And it certainly doesn’t define your worth.

“Can I be honest and say that I hate you just a little bit when you come back from work and can just leave everything at the door?”

His forehead rests against yours, a smile curving his lips as he shakes his head. “Yes, you’re allowed to say that.”

You sag against him, doing your best not to start spiraling again as you think about everything waiting for you to do in the other room. “Thinking about looking at my computer screen for one more second makes me what to die.”

Now a full-blown laugh escapes him. “Then don’t,” he says. “Take the night off.”

You listen to him, letting yourself sink into his embrace and have him tell you about his day at work. He insists on making the two of you dinner without you lifting a single finger, forcing you to sit at the counter keeping him company while he cooks. He lets you talk about school, getting it all off your chest, and feeling like an enormous weight has been lifted off your shoulders. And you secretly promise yourself you won’t let it build up only to explode like this again.

And that night he thoroughly pampers you. Once in a blue moon does he ever indulge you like this, his rough yet familiar hands working out all the knots you build from sitting at your desk for hours—feather light kisses following each pass of his hands. All while murmuring compliments to you, never once letting you think you aren’t good enough.

Afterwards, finding yourself wrapped up in his arms, legs tangled beneath the sheets as you hold his head in your hands lightly caressing his cheeks. His eyes are closed in pure bliss when you tell him, “I love you, Hajime.”

He shifts to hold you even closer to him, and barely above a whisper he replies, “I love you too.”

[theblekromantik]

somewhere new

Erik Stevens x Black Reader

a/n: hello lovelies, i hope you’re well and i hope that you enjoy this! i’ve been experimenting with writing lately, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated!!!

summary: you and Erik go decide to go grocery shopping, but you switch things up a little

warnings: fluff-ish with some sexual tension and implied smut

word count: 3189

A booming,

“Yo, ma!”

Accompanied by a knock at the door rattles you, causing you to drop your eyelash into the sink. Your good, very expensive eyelash that requires much focus in order to be applied to your upper lash line.

Grunting and twinging your face in disgust of the sight before you, you fish it out of the sink, blowing on it to determine if the glue is still salvageable.

“Come on, E! Five minutes!” You respond with your mouth slightly parted, a strange requirement for impeccable eyelash placement.

“Princess, we gotta hurry up before the store closes,” Erik protests, pulling up his sleeve to check his diamond-encrusted AP watch. It’s almost seven o’clock, and Erik hated shopping minutes before a store closed. It made him feel like he was being rushed to gather his items and head to the register.

You and Erik frequently ran errands together, only this time you were grocery shopping. Staying in was nice and all – really quite enjoyable – but an end had to come to the endless Netflix bingeing and takeout from your favorite spots. You both, mainly Erik, decided that it was time for a nutritious, home-cooked meal, one that wouldn’t lead you down a road of clogged arteries and hypertension. But Erik was a phenomenal chef, so you could hardly complain that your ongoing DoorDash expenditure had been interrupted.

“Damn! One second!” You holler. “One second…there.”

You step back and look into the mirror, admiring yourself. Thirty minutes of hard work and determination had really paid off! You grab your phone from the sink’s surface and proceed to snap some photos of yourself.

SHUTTER! SHUTTER! SHUTTER! SHUTTER!

Beauty must always be captured, no matter what the time restraint.

“Princess! You taking pictures in there?” The dreaded man pounds on the door, harder this time. Banging, nearly shaking the hinges out of the door until you swing it open.

And there you are, dolled up and all, from the 26-inch deep wave hair to the Adidas tracksuit, the top zipped down nearly to the level of exposing the full extent of your breasts. Just the way you liked it.

Erik can hardly contain himself as he looks further down at you, ogling how your recently-manicured toes fit perfectly between each slot of your sandals. Man, he knew you were one for dressing up, but to the grocery store? Maybe he needs to step his game up.

“Well?” You jest. “You were so loud banging on the door, you got nothing to say now?”

Catching his lip underneath his teeth, he smugly looks you over once more, trying to gather words to say, for you’ve left him speechless.

He inches closer to you, “My babygirl likes to talk back, huh?”

“Yup, she do,” Boldness courses through you, nearly shattered as you maintain eye contact with your boyfriend.

His eyes were boulders, but you were just as unyielding. This game the two of you liked to play – this perpetual exchange of power – rarely ever ended with you emerging victorious. And you knew this, but you wanted to have your fun.

Finally, though smirkingly, you divert your gaze to your phone, shuffling through your gallery to decide which photos to keep, which photos to delete, and which photos to post.

“You look beautiful, Princess,” Erik chuckles after pressing a kiss onto your lips. “Now let’s go.”

While you knew you had lost the battle in the bathroom, you couldn’t wait to enjoy the war you and Erik would have in the bedroom later.

–

“Shotgun!” Erik shouted as you were fumbling in your purse for your keys, making a sprint for the car through your apartment complex’s parking lot.

The sun was setting beneath the horizon, and it illuminated the sky a burnt orange, a hue that began to embellish the surfaces of each object it touched – buildings, vehicles, windows, trees, the reflective skin of Erik’s custom-designed Air Max 97s as he raced further away from you.

After some time, your nimble fingers reach the item of your search, which results in a chime. You pull the keys out, contemplating whether to unlock the car doors for dreaded man in order to relieve him from the heat of the California sun, or let him suffer. Though it was setting, this sun still could extract a cup of sweat from one’s body. But hey, Erik was grown, he could wait.

You strut up to the car to see your boyfriend leaning on the door, panting, condensation forming on his forehead.

You release a sound of triumph, “I was gonna drive anyway.”

The car unlocks with a chirp, and you open the door and sit down. Dumbfounded, Erik was clutching the hood of the car still, trying to catch his breath.

“You getting in, or…”

He opens the car door and slumps down into the seat.

“You didn’t have to have a nigga looking dumb, baby.”

“I don’t think you need me for that, E.”

Erik snickers, “So it’s like that?”

“Yeah, it’s like that,” you tease, pressing the car to start and reversing out of the lot.

The two of you were buckling in for a long evening, and quite frankly, you couldn’t wait to see how it would progress.

–

As you drive on the road, the city and all its structures – both new and old – vanish behind you as a multitude of cool currents of air whip into the car through the windows, blowing your hair in all sorts of directions.

The vehicle vibrates as you blast a playlist full of new releases through your aux, and Erik grips your thigh as he sings to you, gold canines flashing and all.

You gently place your foot on the break, easing the car to a stop before the upcoming red light.

Erik, nearly louder than the music, starts to grind on the seat à la Magic Mike, and you couldn’t help but to laugh at the dreaded man and his silliness, a behaviour that is a pleasant break from his usual brooding nature.

But your laughter is cut short by a car honking behind you, indicating that the light had just turned green. You roll your eyes, because it had literally just turned green, and you press on the gas, revving your vehicle to the speed limit.

You pass another number of buildings a before making a sharp left turn.

“Shit!” You mumble to yourself.

You had almost missed the turn.

“Babygirl, that wasn’t the turn. Where we going?” Erik questions, for the route you’re taking was not your usual one.

“A little change of plans. I wanted to go somewhere else this time.”

“’Somewhere else’?” Erik probes. “What’s wrong with Ralph’s?!”

Now this took Erik by surprise. He’s genuinely concerned about your decision. To him, Ralph’s is King.

“Nothing, just wanna try something different.”

Your boyfriend clutches his heart, feigning a heart attack. You snort and turn into the parking lot. Both the wind and the car’s engine settle as you drive into a spot and press the vehicle off.

“Trader Joe’s?!” Erik cries. “What they got up in there?”

You exit the car, grabbing your purse from the backseat. “Stop complaining. Let’s go.”

–

If boredom could be personified, it’s spitting image would be Erik, for he rests his forearms on the bar of the shopping cart, eyes drooping as he observes the eccentric packaging of Trader Joe’s products.

Picking up a container of salsa he says, “Why all this shit organic?”

But you just suck your teeth and let him sulk behind the cart, ignoring him and all his grumbling.

“And this,” His gaze sets upon another display, “Who the fuck needs all these types of dried fruit? Probably taste like tumbleweed anyway.”

“Yo, stop moaning and groaning over there,” You shoot back at him, grabbing two packages of dried mangoes and placing them into the cart.

But Erik persists, dragging his feet across the smooth, concrete floor.

Minding the grocery list you and Erik had created earlier on your phone, you head deeper into the produce section, searching for some leafy greens and other ingredients that would contribute toward Erik’s signature salad. He walks off with the cart, gathering some tomatoes and bell peppers before making his way into another section of the store.

You, on the other hand, stand in front of the illuminated display with every type of green you could think of: arugula, kale, spinach, and lettuce, just to name a few. Reaching in, you squish some of the bags in order to determine their freshness. And you grab some kale and return to your shopping partner, who was waiting patiently for you, his previous protesting done with.

Looking down at the list on your phone, there wasn’t that much left for you all to grab, just some seasonings that were essential for the completion of any dish. There’re so many to choose from, and quite frankly, you’d just grab them all if you weren’t on a budget. So, you place a couple in the cart. And when you look up again, there Erik is, a pouty look on his face.

“Birthday cake popcorn?” Erik suggests, holding up the multicoloured item.

“Put it in the cart,” You giggle, maneuvering to a checkout line with the least amount of people.

The line becomes shorter and shorter, with customers paying and leaving with their large brown bags. And before you know it, the cashier shouts, “Next!” and moves to take your cart.

“Find everything okay?” The cashier asks, briefly glancing up at the two of you before moving to scan the items in your cart.

“Yes, thank you,” you respond, blankly staring as more items appeared on the customer screen and the worker transferred your groceries into the bags adjacent to the register.

Erik, standing beside you, wraps his right pinky finger against your left one, linking the two of you before you adjust to hold his entire hand. He grips your waist and pulls you in to kiss your lips and lingers there for a short while, eyes boring into yours while also relishing the traces of your chocolate-flavoured lip gloss that had found its way to onto his tongue.

You’re flustered, of course, but not because he hadn’t kissed you this intensely before, but because you were reminded that you were still at the grocery store, for the cashier cleared their throat awkwardly, repeating the total cost you had missed in your fleeting moment of passion.

Scratching your neck, hoping to relieve the embarrassment that that crept up your spine, you ask, “I’m sorry, how much is it?”

To which the cashier responds, “That’s $43.96.”

“I got it, bae,” Erik interjects, pulling out his wallet and handing a crisp yet folded fifty-dollar bill to the worker.

And while the cashier hands Erik the change, you grab the red cart and head toward the exit but not before thanking them. A few steps behind, Erik acknowledges another cashier – the only Black cashier – with a head nod and a knowing smile, to which the cashier nods, shrugs, and returns the grin: the shared feeling of being the only Black person in the room. The automatic doors open, reintroducing the cool evening air upon your face and hair, and the rubber wheels of the cart greet the smooth pavement.

When you reach the cart return, Erik grabs all of the bags while you fit the cart among the lines of carts already present. The two of you begin to walk to your parked vehicle but instead accidentally stumble upon on one with a similar make and model to your own but was not yours.

“I swore I parked right here,” you huff, standing on the balls of your feet, searching the sea of identical cars in the well-lit parking lot. And the fact that there were so many other last-minute shoppers did not help your plight either.

“Lemme see the keys,” Erik says, intrigue in his voice. “I wanna see something.”

You hand him the keys to the car, and he places them under his chin, pressing the unlock button repeatedly.

“That doesn’t actually work, does it?” You quiz, doubt heavy on your words.

“We have to see.”

Supposedly, this little trick should increase the bandwidth of the key’s signal, using one’s head as a sort of antenna. But after a couple clicks, you hear nothing besides traffic on the neighbouring streets.

Pointless, you think, just wanting to hurry up and head home.

But then, you hear a series of chirps in the distance and Erik yipping about the fact.

“Over there,” Erik says, nodding his head toward the source of the noise.

He picks up the bags, and you both head to the vehicle.

–

Shutting the door to your car, you release a sigh. Finally, the bags are all placed on the floor of your car, and you can finally head home.

With your foot on the break, you reach to push the car to start but then Erik yelps, “Wait! I wanna try those mango joints.”

“Oh, now you wanna try them,” You jest, “Because if I can remember, you were just–”

“–Man,” Erik interrupts, reaching to the backseat and rummaging through the bags. “Found it.”

He surveys the clear package titled “Soft & Juicy Mango” with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips curled, a slight repugnance that he couldn’t even help hide. But ripping the bag open, his expression softens as the aroma fills his nostrils, the sweet, tropical scent soothing him.

You watch, rolling your eyes, as Erik cautiously lowers his fingers into the package. One would think that the former Navy Seal wouldn’t be so dramatic over something like trying a new food, but Erik never ceases to amaze you.

Mango slice in hand, Erik purses his lips as he brings it to his mouth, slowly. Tortuously. And chews, his head cocked to the side.

“Wait,” he says as he swallows the last bit. “These bitches smack!”

You release a sound of disbelief, start the vehicle, and pull into the street, heading home. Of course the mangoes were delicious.

–

The sound of the car door closing can be heard as you and Erik finish grabbing all the groceries and head to the entrance of your apartment building. Your boyfriend opens the door for you, his veiny forearm braced on it and towering above you as you enter.

“Damn, ma! You getting thick!” He hollers as he watches the sway of your hips in your fitted bottoms.

You feel your cheeks warm up as you push some hair behind your air. You had been getting thick.

The lobby as you pass through is empty except for the security guard looking down at a glow coming from their lap and a couple of young people with white wires cascading down from their ears, bopping their heads to music that you can hear but not quite make out specific lyrics.

You and Erik find your way inside the elevator, the flickering fluorescents easing you back home, a stark difference from the glaringly bright ones at Trader Joe’s. Erik presses the round “4”, and the aluminum doors begin to close before you, you staring ahead while Erik sneaks a glance at you, smirking before redirecting his gaze toward the sliding metal.

Watching the line of numbers flash as the lift ascends from the ground floor, you turn to Erik, kissing him softly on the lips, closing your eyes and feeling a tingling sensation coursing into him through you. An electrical current that ceases to meet its end, ravishing you both entirely.

And with a ding, the elevator doors open and there you and Erik are, standing chest to chest in the moment, biting your lips like a couple of anxious teenagers on a first date. You pull away from him, keys in hand, heading for the apartment while Erik watches you.

God, how did he get so lucky? You were a treasure to him, and not only because you were so extraordinary but the little things: how you treated him so tenderly and with love yet wouldn’t hesitate to call him out when he was acting like a fool, and how you were so receptive to him as he was to you. These were all things that he scarcely experienced, if he ever experienced them at all. You helped him learn how to love and to receive love, which is an astonishing feat that many cannot confess that they’ve accomplished for themselves. And as you look back at him and smile while you unlock the door, he feels a bit weak in the knees, your electricity overwhelming him once more. You’ve got him hooked, and he loves it. He’s entirely entranced by you, and he doesn’t mind.

You open the door and are welcomed by your apartment, which is completely shrouded in darkness, save for the streetlights, the headlights of passing cars, and the last sliver of the orange evening sky before it is overcome by those distant stars in the night sky.

“Whew,” you exhale, flipping on the light switch and opening the door wider.

Erik sets the bags down on the countertops and approaches you.

“What are you–” you begin, but Erik is sliding his arms around your midsection and turning you to him. He presses his forehead against yours, twirling the ends of your hair and breathes you in and attaches his lips to yours, gently, truly wanting to savour this moment and you in this moment.

He pulls away, slowly, and confesses for the first time aloud, “I love you,” in a voice no louder than a whisper in a public library, to which you respond, “I love you, too.”

And the two of you remain like this for a few moments, staring into each other’s eyes, not even letting the ever-busy late-night traffic rattle you.

“So,” he starts, “About earlier in the bathroom…”

“Yeah, what about it?” You respond, seduction laced in your words.

“I’m thinking we need to address that.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Yup,” Erik answers, popping the “p”.

“And what about the groceries?”

“They’ll be a’ight.”

“Hm,” You sound, lacing your hand with his and walking the both of you to your shared bedroom.

Erik walks towards you, making you both fall on the bed. And the dreaded man begins pecking at your neck, travelling up to the bone of your jaw and landing once again on your plump lips. He swipes his finger down them, and repeats, “I love you.”

You stand up to close the door, while Erik sits up, waiting on you to return to him. You cradle his head in your hands while you kiss him, deeper, all that former tenderness left at the door. And stripping him of his shirt, his impatient fingers also dance to the zipper of your top, lowering it. He slides the jacket over your shoulders as you kneel on the bed to straddle him. But before you could grind down on his crotch, Erik grips your hips and flips you onto your back, the sudden movement bouncing your body on the bed after it meets the comforter.

“Not so fast, babygirl.”

[choiyo]

Right, another request done for Anonymous. I don’t know if you’ll like it, but here it is.

Group: GOT7

Idol: Park Jinyoung

Genre: Fluff, romantic, cute, kinda suggestive(?)

-Y/n!-Jinyoung yelled and your head popped into the doorway, clear excitement in your features.

-Yes, my prince?-you asked him with a silly smile.

-Did you grab the blanket by any chance? I can’t find it.-he asked with a hand still on the open drawer where the blanket should’ve been.

-Yeah, it was the first thing I packed.-you quickly nod.

-You could’ve told me, you know?-he pouted closing the draw, as you picked up your purse from the bed and walked towards the human embodiment of an angel you get to call your boyfriend.

-But I did.-you pouted back when you reached him-But I think you were busy getting ready.

Jinyoung searched his brain for the memory of your voice telling him that you packed the blanket, but nothing would come to his mind.

-Ehhh, nope, I definitely didn’t hear you.

-Get better at hearing then.-you joked and tapped lightly your finger on his forehead.- Has our daughter been taking every single hearing sense of you?

He batted your hand away.

-Or…Maybe you need to get a louder voice.-he joked back.

As he took a step towards the door, you sucked in a large breath, preparing to do just that, until Jinyoung realised what you were doing and leaped to cover your mouth with his hand.

-Don’t you even dare to strain my ears with your voice, Y/n.-he said seriously and your shoulders shook with a muffled chuckle.

You lowered his hand, revealing a smile on your lips.

-Don’t worry, love. As loud as I can be, I would never do something to harm your ears or our daughters.-you said, caressing his hand.

-How would l know? You are unpredictable as hell.-he said, rolling his eyes.

-And you love me no less.-you winked chucking.-We should probably get going so we can find a good spot.

You walked to the table to grab the picnic basket filled with your dinner, drinks, and some desserts for after.

He silently agreed and grabbed the blanket (all zipped up in its built-in bag). As you walked out of your apartment, Jinyoung’s excitement grew. You could see it in the way he smiled and in the way he would take a few tiny fluttering steps after every few steps. You could feel it in the way his hand hold yours tightly and how he swings your intertwined hands between the two of you.

-Should we really be going to the park though? Like, it’s weekend, so…-you said, kinda worried that if there was a lot of people, that your pregnant boyfriend could get stressed.

-Don’t worry, love. It may be weekend, but I don’t think it will be that crowded today.-he said, smiling at you, as if reassuring you that he…that they would be alright.

-Okay, if you say so.-you nodded.

-I know so. I am always right.-he sassed with a smirk.-Remember last time?

Right, that last time…when you lost the bet with him about your baby’s gender. How to forget that day when your boyfriend took your dignity AND your money from you?

-Whatever.-rolling your eyes, you let out an airy laugh.

-See, what did I tell you?-Jinyoung lifts his hand, gesturing at the almost empty park in front of you.

-You were right.-you smiled nodding in agreement, and sighed.-Seems like I will always lose to you. Good thing I didn’t bet this time…

He laughed at your statement and skipped ahead a couple steps.

-Let’s set up over here. We’ll be able to relax more.-he said, guiding you and you set down the picnic basket.

-Alright then. Let me get everything ready while you just sit down and rest.-you said, starting to get the blankets out.

-But I want to help you.-he said, frowning.

-Love, you are pregnant and you already made a lot of effort just walking here.-you said, serious-You have to rest for yours and our daughter’s wellbeing.

-….-he sighed, as he knew that as stubborn as you were, he was not going to convince you. He just sat down as you said.- Since you won’t change your mind…

Within 5 minutes, you got the blanket flat against the ground. Clambering onto the blanket, you used your shoes to hold down two of the corners and Jinyoung’s shoes for the other two. Now, the two of you were sitting on the blankets

-How’s our daughter doing in there, Jinyoung?-you wonder you begun pulling items out of the basket.

You handed him a container of pasta and he answered…

-She’s doing alright, Y/n. You worry too much.-He hold out a fork and you plucked it out of his hand.

-It’s you and our baby were talking about. How can I not worry?

-Lucky for you , the only problem is that our daughter is just a little too energetic and doesn’t stop kicking her dad at night when he’s trying to sleep.-he joked, making you smile happily.

-That’s too bad for you then.-you teased before taking a large bite of pasta. -Mmm-This is so good. I’m such a good cook.

-Last time I checked, I helped!-he said, his mouth almost full of food.

-Right, and my amazing boyfriend did an amazing job of opening the noodle box and placing the noddles in the boiling water.-you said, ruffling his hair, his pouting getting more evident.

He rolled his eyes but decided to let the comment slide and bring a bite of pasta into his mouth again. Soon, you both finished eating and now enjoyed each other’s company.

-You are really annoying, you know that?-he said.

-Yeah, I know. You are always sure to tell me that everyday. And I find it really cute.-you said, caressing his jaw, looking at him intensely, making him flustered.-Come on, you can’t be shy with this simple gesture?

He knew what you were trying to do, so he just chose to ignore. He wasn’t’ going to put himself in that kind of situation, not there, not at the moment.

-Oh, so you’re ignoring me now?…Okay, what if I did this then?

By this, you meant hugging him by his neck and planting soft kisses on his ear lobe. He was trying so hard to not react at all, not wanting to let you win. Upon seeing his resistance, you changed from kissing to actually licking his ear lobe and that made him react, pulling away from you with wide eyes and a red face.

-Will you stop it?! We’re in public!-he scolded, still flustered.

-You are so easy to tease, Jinyoung.-you laughed- I’m sorry, but the way you react is just the cutest thing ever.

-Yeah, laugh. Laugh as much as you want while you can.-he whispered as he touched the bump on his belly.-Your mother is really asking for trouble and if you weren’t here, she would instantly regret it.

-It’s not my fault that you get so easily flustered. Now is it?-you said, defiantly.

-You are terrible girlfriend.-he said, squeezing his eyes shut.-I hate you.

-I know. And you’re my incredible boyfriend and I love you.-you said, planting a kiss on his nose.

-Oh God, what did I do to deserve this?

-You were born cute, that’s what.

[ghosttotheparty]

while the world ends around us (make believe with me)

6. I can’t even leave my room so I keep pouring AO3

And I've been looking for someone to put up with my bullshit I can't even leave my bedroom so I keep pouring And I ain't seen a light of day since, well, that's not important It's been long - Feeling Whitney // Post Malone

Lucas actually wakes up this morning.

It’s nice. Much better than laying against his wall all through the night, his eyes stuck on his laptop, watching Netflix or Youtube, or on his sketchbook, watching his pencil or pen or paint trailing across the page, leaving lines and smudges in its wake. And then looking up blearily when he realises he can see across his dark room because the sun is peeking through his blinds.

Today he wakes up when his phone starts buzzing and chiming next to his head, half under his pillow. It startles him, and he gasps as his eyes fly open, sitting up and muttering, “Jesus…” as he shuts off his alarm and tosses it to the floor next to him. It clatters against the wood and he winces, looking up at his door and running a hand through his hair.

He grabs food from the kitchen and eats it during his first class, scribbling the homework on a piece of paper he finds on the floor and doodling flowers and eyes as he forgets to pay attention. The teacher's voice turns into white noise.

- - -

He drifts off again in another class, and wakes up to a chorus of voices saying “Thank you,” and “Goodbye.” He doesn’t bother joining them, instead just clicking the hang up button and dropping his head to his arm, sighing and closing his eyes for a second before pushing himself up and groaning.

It’s the third red button he’s pressed just today.

He thinks about how many he presses a day.

Five classes, five red buttons.

Five days a week.

For weeks and weeks.

And weeks.

Christ.

Lucas huffs and pushes himself to sit cross-legged in front of the computer. He pushes it out of his mind, the remembrance that this is… it. All he has. This and a few texts from Kes and Jayden, usually about school or other kids from school, often complaining. Usually complaining. Sometimes he gets texts from Isa, silly selfies or pictures of birds. She knows he likes birds. Sometimes he gets texts from Noah, pictures of his art, drawings and paintings and doodles, or texts from Janna, which are never expected but always make him laugh. Sometimes Liv texts him just to check in.

It.

Homework and classes and red buttons and once-in-a-while texts from people he doesn’t see anymore.

And Jens, he remembers as his phone buzzes. And he smiles, but he really shouldn’t, so he pushes it away as he reaches to the floor and grabs the phone, reading.

guess what i’m making… 🥚🍳👨🏻🍳

He lets the smile push its way back onto his face (there’s no one to see anyway) as he shakes his head.

you didn’t give me time to guess, dummy

He lays on his back and holds his phone above his head, sighing as the bubble appears on his screen.

i’m impatient

Lucas scoffs, shaking his head again.

anyway good morning 😌, Jens texts a few seconds later.

good morning 🌞, Lucas responds even though it’s not really that sunny out. how are you today

well i woke up to my sisters arm hitting me in the face and i just burned an egg so that’s just kind of how it’s going so far you?

Lucas smiles again.

pretty dry so far but who knows

Like it’s a trigger, Lucas’s door swings open loudly and he tilts his head back, looking at his father upside down.

“...Yes?”

“You have to do the dishes, yeah?” he says flatly.

“But I did them last night,” Lucas says, still holding his phone above his head. He doesn’t look at it, even as it gives a short buzz with Jens’s response.

“And I brought dinner for you.”

“You brought chicken home and I cooked it.”

It’s true. Lucas had to Google how to do it, and it was the blandest, driest chicken he’s ever had, but it sufficed. There was nothing else in the kitchen he could have made. Back home, there’s usually things in the cupboard to micwave.

“Lucas—” His dad pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, huffing. Exasperated, like Lucas is the issue here. “Just do it.”

“Fine, whatever,” Lucas mutters, looking at his phone, but he doesn’t get to read the message before his dad snaps at him.

“Don’t whatever me,” he says sharply.

“Fine,” Lucas says, stopping him. “Yes. I will.”

He leaves without shutting Lucas’s door.

Lucas takes a second, huffing at the open hallway. He hates him. And he knows he Shouldn’t, because He’s His Father, but he can’t not. It’s his face. Even before Lucas knew about how much of a dick he is, his face told Lucas everything. Always angry, disappointed. Always bitter, like he tried to sue the universe and lost. His eyes always look pinched. Especially when he looks at Lucas.

He doesn’t know why, honestly. It’s not like he even really knows Lucas. Anything about Lucas that’s actually important. Not that Lucas would tell him anything important.

(He has a list of things he doesn’t ever plan on telling him. His being gay is the top one. He’s never heard his father talk about queer people, but he doesn’t have to to know that he’s probably a bigot. His art is another thing. He doesn’t want to listen to his father talk about how it’s not a Viable Career Option, or how it’s a Waste of Time.)

He looks at his phone after a second.

😔 boring days suck wanna call later and do hw together?

Lucas exhales, trying to sigh away his frustration.

yes ofc you said you can do math right?

He shuts the door (quietly) while he waits for Jens’s answer.

i’m a math genius call me fuckin newton

Lucas scoffs, shaking his head as he sits back on his mattress, leaning back so his head falls off the edge, upside down.

great so that means you’ll do my hw for me

Lucas bites his lip, trying to suppress the smile that appears in anticipation as Jens types.

hmmmm what’s in it for me?🤔

uhhhhh moral support

Lucas grins as you amaze me appears on his screen, followed by oh i can teach you math, which promptly makes him roll his eyes and reply with an exaggerated uuuuuuggggggghhhhhhhhh.

Jens replies with oop i gotta go, and then, as Lucas prepares to send the eye-rolling emoji, see you after school🙃.

Lucas sends the emoji anyway, along with you’re the worst.

A few seconds later, his phone buzzes with love you too <3 , and his lingering smile falters. He sits up, swallowing and setting the phone down.

Because the pause in him, the skipped beat of his heart, the way the words tug at him even as he reads and rereads and rereads them, even as his brain knows the irony, the playfulness, the mindlessness in Jens’s saying it, can only mean one thing, and he hates himself for it.

Lucas is fucked.

- - -

So he ignores it, of course. It can’t be happening. It can’t. He’s known Jens for a few days. There’s no reason for his stomach to flutter the way it does when he gets a text from him, or when his name lights up his computer screen on Google Meets.

“He-ey,” Jens sings when Lucas answers, and a smile flickers across Lucas’s face involuntarily.

“Hey.”

“How you doing?”

“Fine,” Lucas answers, neglecting to mention the rest of his day, which was absolutely not fine. The door slams are still ringing in his head. “You?”

“Eh.”

“Hm,” Lucas chuckles. “Hey, who's your maths teacher?”

“Clark,” Jens says, looking at Lucas with his pixelated eyes. Even glitchy and blurry, Lucas can see that he’s beautiful.

“Great,” he says, ignoring it. “Have you done homework for lesson seven?”

“I absolutely have not,” Jens chirps. “I can do it and show you how to solve the problems.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Mhmm.” Jens puckers his lips, nodding and furrowing his brows. “Mhmm, mhmm. Well. I could do it and send you the answers.”

“That sounds great,” Lucas says, sarcastically sweet.

Jens snickers, reaching past his laptop, and Lucas watches as the collar of his shirt falls, a section of his skin exposed before he sits back, pulling a messy notebook, loose papers hanging out of it, and calculator with him.

“Wanna read while I work?” Jens asks, oblivious to the heat in Lucas's chest.

“Oh, yeah, I can do that.”

Lucas barely even processes the words he reads to Jens, his brain somehow paying more attention to the quiet, hushed murmurs of numbers coming from Jens.

He hears Jens mutter, “Divide by six…” and click his tongue in thought a few times just as Lucas reads, “‘...like moths against the whispering and the champagne and the stars.’”

He listens to Jens intently, even though half (or maybe just a quarter) of his mind is on the book, and even though he only catches every few words. Some words, sixty, sixteen, seventy seven, are sharp and cut right through their connection. His murmurs are nearly completely unintelligible, but Lucas listens like he’s actually trying to learn something.

It’s not until Jens says, “Lu?” softly, that Lucas realises he’s stopped reading completely, the book fallen shut in his lap with his index finger holding the page loosely, and he startles, looking directly into Jens’s eyes. His face burns up at the nickname, and at the fact that he had been so enraptured by Jens muttering maths to himself that he had forgotten completely to read.

“I— Yeah, sorry,” he says, looking away and opening the book, hoping Jens can’t see how hot his face is.

“Why’d you stop?” A smile is spread across Jens’s face. Like he knows.

“I—” Lucas stutters again. “You seemed to focussed, I didn’t wanna distract you.”

“Aw.” Jens tilts his head. “That’s sweet.” There’s a pause, and he looks down, flipping a paper that’s out of Lucases sight, before he says, “I’m almost done, I can send you pictures after so do this one.”

“Yeah,” Lucas says, trying not to let out another stammer. His face burns again. He hadn’t realised how long he’d been listening.

Jens clicks his tongue as he thinks again, and Lucas hears the clicking of his calculator and the scratch of his pencil on paper.

“Add on both sides,” he says quietly, and then, “Oh, that’s not right,” flipping his pencil over to erase it.

Lucas snickers.

“Don’t you laugh at me,” Jens says, a smile playing at his lips. “You know you can’t do better.”

“You’re not wrong.”

When Jens finally finishes the problem (he has to try again two more times; he’d skipped the problem to leave it for the end when he’d started) he texts pictures of it to Lucas, and Lucas closes the book, folding the corner of the page.

He can feel Jens watching him as he copies down the answers.

“Number four is seventy three?” he says, zooming in on the photo.

“Thirteen,” Jens says, his voice softer than Lucas expected.

“Oh, that makes more sense.” Lucas writes it. “Why the hell do your ones look like sevens?”

“I don’t know,” Jen says defensively, making a face. “It’s never been a problem before.”

“It’s weird.” He’s met with silence. “If you’re making a face at me, I can’t see it.”

Jens lets out a laugh, and Lucas grins. If sunshine made a sound, it would be Jens’s laughter.

“How do you know me so well?” Jens asks, still laughing.

Lucas giggles, snorting and shaking his head as he looks up to see Jens’s face brightening even more.

“That was so cute,” Jens says lightly, and Lucas feels like he’s on fire.

“Shut up. What’s number seven? It’s cut off in the picture.”

“Oh, shit, sorry. That’s…” Jens’s brows furrow. “Six, four… one—”

“You thought it was a seven, didn’t you?”

“Shut up. One point three two.”

“Thank you-u-u.”

Jens is quiet as Lucas copies the rest of the answers. He shakes his head at how messy Jens’s work is, shocked and honestly impressed with how his brian works, numbers and lines scattered across the page, the answers in neat, little boxes.

“Do any new drawings?” Jens asks abruptly as Lucas copies the last one.

“Huh?”

“Have you drawn anything new?”

“Uh..” Lucas finishes writing the final answer and boxing it like Jens’s. “Yes?”

“Oh?” When he looks up, Jens is resting his chin on his hands, smiling. “Tell me.”

Lucas pauses, biting his lip. He’s only done one, and it’s ripped and crumpled and shredded in the corner of his room in a plastic bin.

“I did one, but it was shit, so it’s in the trash—”

“What was it?”

“Uh, that’s not important.”

“...Okay.” He says it softly. Lucas is grateful. “Can you show me a drawing? Or like a sketch, or…”

Lucas smiles. Jens is clearly out of his element. But he’s trying.

“I might have a picture,” he says, moving the maths homework away. “Most of my sketchbooks are still in boxes.”

“You haven’t unpacked yet?” Jens asks as Lucas scrolls though his camera roll, photos of Utrecht mainly, with a few of homework and screenshots of messages from the guys scattered in there.

“No,” he says simply.

“Why?”

“Eh.” Lucas finds one of a drawing and looks at it, contemplating. It’s a sketch of Noah that he did a little after moving. He’d meant to send it to him, even considered mailing it with a little letter and some Antwerp souvenirs like a post card or something, but he never did. He sends it to Jens. “I don’t really plan on staying here that long, just until this summer.”

“Oh. Oh, woah.”

Lucas beams without wanting to, watching Jens’s head duck as he looks at his phone.

“That’s so good, Lucas.”

“Thank you,” Lucas responds, his voice small. He shifts in his seat on the mattress, fidgeting as Jens looks up at him.

“That’s so good.”

“Who is it?” Jens looks back down, moving his fingers across the screen, and Lucas can tell he’s zooming in on the photo.

“My friend from Utrecht, he’s an artist too.”

“Oh!” Jens looks up again. “Speaking of artists. I have a friend I think you’ll like.”

“You think I’ll like him because he’s an artist?”

Jens drops his phone.

“I think you’ll like him because he’s a cool guy, and you already have something in common.”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

“You wanna meet him?” Jens asks, almost excitedly.

Lucas stares at him, tilting his head.

“Not in person,” Jens says. “Obviously.” He makes a face. “Sometimes we have, like, a group Zoom call with the guys, do you wanna join sometime?”

Lucas pauses, hoping Jens can see the despair in his face.

The guys.

“Uh— Yeah, why not?”

Jens beams.

It makes the screen glow brighter.

[kristallioness]

The candy thief

Summary: Kya goes to search for some healing candy.

Word count: 3,218

Author's note: Honestly, I came up with this idea BEFORE I fell ill this past Thursday. *angry muttering* Long story short, my dad caught a nasty cold about 2 weeks ago and apparently, now I finally have it, too (so does my mom, which makes sense since we're all cooped up together at home, as most people are nowadays). Luckily it started off with only a mildly sore throat this time (that's pretty rare in my case) and the rest of the symptoms were barely noticeable, so I'm fine with that (and as of this Tuesday, I already feel quite normal again, which is good since I gotta be healthy if I wanna get my flu shot next Friday). At least I had a personal point of reference while writing the story (not that I intended to have one *lol*)... Anyways, I remember when I was a little girl, then sometimes I didn't dare to admit that my throat was sore, or I really hoped that it'd go away if I waited long enough. Instead, I chose to suffer for at least half a day (before the pain became unbearable or I realized that it isn't going anywhere), cause I was afraid that my mom would start lecturing me that I wasn't careful enough when I caught that cold in the first place (she did anyway, but just a little bit, and after that she of course did everything to help me feel better). So, I kind of took that idea and self-inserted my silly child version into Kya's character, to show how she'd try to keep it secret for as long as she could by sneaking past her mommy to find some medicine on her own. Which, knowing Katara, is practically a "mission impossible".

----------x----------

Telling mommy was the last thing on Kya's mind. The 3-year-old reluctantly swallowed another mouthful of warm jook, lifting up the next bite with her spoon as she still had the other half of the plate to finish.

"What's the matter, sweetie? Aren't you hungry?"

Kya shook her head and quickly took a bite to not arouse suspicion. Katara eyed her for a second longer, then shrugged her shoulders and continued drying the rest of the dishes.

The poor little waterbender had no idea how much longer she could possibly tolerate this pain. Ever since she woke up, her throat had been killing her. Last night, it started off as a weird scratchy feeling on one side, which didn't really seem that bad when her mother tucked her in bed. But by the time morning arrived, it had spread all across the back of her throat.

"You seem kind of quiet this morning. Is everything okay?" Katara wondered, running the towel over the ladle she'd used to cook breakfast for herself and her baby girl.

"Mhmm," Kya hummed and nodded with her mouth full. She wished that she could enjoy this delicious food more without having to think and prepare herself for the burning sensation each time she swallowed it. Jook was one of her favourite dishes, but it certainly didn't taste as pleasant as usual right now. She'd had enough of this torture.

Kya grabbed her half empty plate from the kitchen table and hopped off the high chair to walk over to her mother and hand the dirty dishes to her. Katara smiled and squatted down as she saw her baby girl approach her, taking the plate off her hands.

"Can I go play?" she asked innocently.

"Yes, sweetie. You can go ahead and play in your room now."

After receiving a tender kiss on her forehead, Kya hurried out of the kitchen. But instead of scampering back to her bedroom, she tried to be stealthy and reach the infirmary without her mother, or anyone else seeing.

Kya knew very well what would happen if she told mommy the truth: first, mommy would become angry and she'd get berated for not taking care of herself better. Then, she'd get dragged to the healing hut inside their temple and her mommy would poke her with these scary instruments to find out what's wrong. And finally, she'd have to drink some sort of bitter tea or take some other kind of nasty medicine for a couple of days before she started to feel better.

Coming clean was surely out of the question. There had to be another way she could both hide, yet relieve her suffering. So she decided to take matters into her own hands.

Kya managed to sneak into the infirmary room unnoticed. She gave the hallway one last glance to be certain she wasn't followed, after which she made her way to the cupboards at the back of the room.

The healing hut, as her mother liked to call it, was a spacious room no bigger than the dining hall used by the residents of their little island. She passed several empty beds, which were covered with indigo blankets that had pretty flower patterns on them, and white pillows for resting your weary head on. These beds were meant for mommy's patients - be it a member of their own family, one of the air acolytes, or sick strangers who desperately needed mommy's help from time to time. Kya never liked having to sit on or rest in any of them.

As she reached the other end of the room, she paused for a minute to think. There were two cupboards on the floor and three cabinets hanging up on the wall. They all looked the same with their delicate wooden carvings, but they contained various items that mommy usually used to help sick people feel better. Now came the hard part: where to find the right medicine?

Kya knew what she was looking for. The last couple of times she'd suffered from a sore throat, Katara had given her some special lemon-flavoured candies to suck on, which helped soothe the pain until it disappeared a day or two later. If she could get her hands on them, she might be able to make it through without having to tell her mother.

The little waterbender opened the squeaky doors of the first cupboard and had a peek inside. She didn't have any luck on her first try. The shelves were full of materials for wrapping up sprains or bandaging wounds, along with a couple of clean towels and a few tins that contained stinky salves.

It was the same with the other cupboard right next to it. Nothing resembled those candies Kya remembered eating the last time she was sick. She had no other choice but to get a closer look at the cabinets high up on the wall. The problem was how was she ever going to reach them?

For a little girl like her, it was supposed to be impossible. Katara had stored all the vitamins, pills and pointy medical instruments up there, so her kids wouldn't get their hands on them and harm themselves by accident.

Kya climbed up on the nearest bed to have a better view of what's in there. But she was still too far away to open the cabinet doors on her own. Was there anything she could use as an extension of her arms? Maybe she could make a lasso out of the towels or an elastic bandage and toss it around the handle?

Instead, she noticed the two big pots filled with bending water in the corners of the room. Mommy would normally use that water for healing purposes, but it gave her an idea.

The little waterbender knitted her brows, summoning an uneven stream of water from one of them. She couldn't control the element exactly the way she wanted it to behave, but if she could just get it around the door handle..

And then there was a loud bang. The 3-year-old startled and lost complete control over the water, which splashed down on the cupboard below, leaving a small puddle in front of it on the floor.

She'd nearly managed to pull the cabinet door wide open when she lost her waterbending grip and gravity did its job, thus causing it to fall back shut. Her mother's tactic justified itself. It was a miracle if she didn't hear the noise.

Kya climbed back down from the bed to go clean up the mess. Using her clumsy waterbending, she attempted to place the water back into the pot. The blobs she carried between her hands dripped from beneath, leaving a trail of wet spots on the floor.

"What are you doing there?"

The next blob fell down on her booties and soaked them. She'd left one important variable out of the equation - her daddy returning from his morning meditation outside in the pavilion. She stood completely still, having been caught red-handed. Or wet-handed was more like it.

"Nothing," she uttered, guilt written over her face. Aang stepped inside the infirmary, surprised to see his baby girl in there in the first place. She avoided this place like fire.

"It sure doesn't look like nothing. What happened? Why's there water on the furniture?"

Kya hung her head in shame as her daddy squatted down in front of her, laying a supportive hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay, I'm not mad. I just wanna know what happened. Were you practicing your waterbending?"

She shook her head in response.

"No? Then what were you doing in here?"

Kya stared up at the row of cabinets hanging from the wall, taunting her for her small height and inability to fend for herself. She pointed her finger at the one she'd tried to open earlier.

"I wanted healing candy," she said, sparking a bit of confusion in her father. She didn't know any fancier words that'd describe the medicinal sweets she was after.

"You wanted what?"

"Healing candy," she repeated one more time, watching how daddy waterbended her shoes dry so her feet wouldn't get cold. Not that it mattered anymore since she already had a cold.

"Don't tell mommy," the 3-year-old pleaded. Now Aang felt even more confused.

"Why not? I'll help you clean up here and tell mommy it was an accident. It's no big deal."

To demonstrate, he waterbended the top of the cupboard dry with one simple flick of his wrist. He moved on to cleaning up the wet tracks on the floor.

"Mommy's gonna be angry."

Her reasoning made the airbender chuckle since there'd barely be a trace of the mishap left by the time he finished.

"What? Why would mommy be angry at you?"

"Cause my throat hurts."

Aang had to pause for a second as everything began to fall into place. He dropped the dirty water into the sink and turned to face his daughter.

"Oh, you poor thing.." he murmured, running his fingers through her hair to console her.

"Now I get it. You wanted some of those special candies that mommy has that can soothe your sore throat, right? But you couldn't reach the cabinet, so you tried to open it with your waterbending."

"Mhmm," the little waterbender agreed with a nod. Aang pondered for a minute before he proposed a plan that wouldn't frighten her any more than she already was for going behind their backs and lying about her condition.

"Tell you what, I promise I won't tell mommy about your sore throat. But I need to go ask her where she keeps those special candies so I can give you some. Okay?"

Kya wasn't too happy about that last part, cause then her mommy would figure it out. But it was the only way she could get her hands on the right medicine if daddy didn't know where to look for it either.

"Is there anything else I can get you? Your mini Appa, perhaps?"

"No. I want candy," she said, determined to get rid of the constant burning sensation. She didn't care whether mommy would be mad at her or not anymore. She just wanted the pain to go away.

"Alright. Be a good girl and wait right here. I'll be back in a minute."

Aang patted her head before standing up and leaving the room to go search for Katara.

In the meantime, Kya perched on the edge of the bed opposite to the cupboards to give her feet a rest. She swung them back and forth, patiently waiting for her daddy to return. Mentally, she was preparing herself for the lecture her mother was bound to give her on being more careful when it concerned her health.

She pricked up her ears, but couldn't hear her parents talking in any of the rooms nearby. Her curiosity got the better of her after a minute or two had already passed, so she went to peek into the empty hallway. Once she saw her mommy stepping out of the kitchen, she quickly hurried back to the bed where she was told to stay.

"I'll show you where it is, so the next time you need it, you'll know where to look," Kya heard her mother speak. It wasn't long until she entered the healing hut, followed shortly by her daddy.

But to her surprise, mommy looked happy rather than angry. She headed straight for the middle cabinet and opened the door on the left side. Katara didn't even seem to notice that she was sitting there on the bed behind them.

"It's right here on the lower shelf, next to the bottle of vitamins."

She picked up the correct box of lozenges and put it on the cupboard for her husband to see.

"Alright, I'll definitely remember it now. Thanks!"

He gifted her with a tiny peck on the cheek. The little waterbender already felt that she was off the hook. While her parents were distracted by their show of affection, she'd hopped off the bed and squeezed herself between their bodies to reach for the medicine on the counter. But it was too far away, and then her mother came down to her level to talk.

"Kya, do you wanna tell me what's going on? Why's daddy looking for these healing candies?"

All of a sudden, she felt cornered again. Maybe mommy wasn't as clueless as she'd hoped. Kya stared up into her daddy's grey eyes in search of answers, unsure about what she should do. Luckily, Aang helped her out.

"Do you want me to tell mommy?"

Her mouth fell a bit agape. It wasn't until then that she realized that daddy had kept his promise. He hadn't mentioned a word to mommy about her being the reason why he wanted to know the location of the candies.

Ultimately, Kya decided it'd be better if he took the blame. She nodded. And that was all Aang needed to hear, or see.

"She has a sore throat," he confessed, squatting down to her and Katara's level, pulling their baby girl into his protective embrace by resting an arm around her shoulders.

Kya looked away, expecting her mother to raise her voice at her. Instead, she felt her mother's warm hand cupping her cheek and gently lifting her chin up so she could look her in the eye. She was frowning.

"Oh, sweetie.. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

When she remained silent, Aang chimed in.

"She was scared that you'll get angry at her for falling ill."

"Is this true, baby?"

The little waterbender fiddled with her fingers for a bit, then gazed into her mother's blue eyes and nodded shyly. Katara released a heavy sigh, as if she'd been holding her breath the entire time.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I never mean to get mad at you. It's just that.. I'm worried about you when you don't feel well. And when I'm worried, sometimes I might overreact a bit."

"A bit?" Aang laughed, but shushed up when Katara glared at him. She continued brushing her fingers through their daughter's hair to soothe her.

"The point is.. Next time you feel sick, you don't have to be afraid to tell me, okay? We all get sick every now and again. The important thing is to start the right treatment as soon as possible, because then you'll feel better a lot quicker. Do you understand that?"

Kya didn't comprehend everything what her mother said, but she did understand that her mommy felt sorry, and that it's okay to approach her the next time she felt under the weather.

"Come here."

Katara spread her arms and invited her baby in for a hug.

"Now, will you be a brave little waterbender and let mommy have a look at your throat?" she whispered into Kya's ear, to which she broke free from the hug and ran back between her daddy's legs, hiding her head under his shawl. Aang started laughing again.

"Looks like she's still scared."

Even Katara found the situation to be funny. She giggled as she stood up and opened the other side of the cabinet where she'd gotten the lozenges.

"Kya, I'm not going to hurt you," she reassured the little waterbender, who turned around to peep at what she was doing from under her red hood. Her mother placed a glass tube on the counter, next to the box of candies she wanted.

"I only wanna look into your mouth to see if your throat is red," Katara claimed as she knelt back down and shifted closer to her. Aang urged Kya to come out of hiding and take a step closer to her mommy so she could examine her.

"Can you open wide and show me your tongue, like this?"

Katara demonstrated for her by sticking out her own tongue, hoping that Kya would mimic her. Once she did, she pressed her tongue down with a wooden stick to see the back of her throat. It did seem a tad red, but there was nothing that would indicate a serious infection.

"Good girl," Katara praised.

"Say 'Aahh'!"

"Aahh!" Kya repeated obediently, allowing her mother to pull the stick out of her mouth. Next, she threw it away in the trash bin and gently pressed her fingertips below her jaw on either side of her neck.

"Don't worry, I'm just gonna feel your neck for a bit to see if it's swollen," Katara explained while palpating the lymph nodes in that area. She tickled her chin in the end, earning a short giggle from her baby girl. It was high time she rewarded her for her good behaviour.

"Alright, I think you've been through enough."

She reached for the box of lozenges, pulled it open and pushed one out from the blister pack.

"Here you go, sweetie. Suck on this and your throat will feel a little better for a while."

Kya took the yellow piece of candy from her mother's palm and shoved it in her mouth. After she'd swallowed a couple of times, the dissolving medicine slowly began to do its job.

"Thank you, mommy!"

The elder waterbender grinned and gifted her with another tender kiss on her temple.

"You're welcome, baby. Do you mind if I take your temperature while you suck on your healing candy? I wanna be sure you don't have a fever."

Since the little waterbender showed no signs of protest, her parents escorted her to the nearest bed. Aang sat down next to her for moral support, watching how she happily sucked on the lozenge while his wife tried to measure her temperature.

Katara grabbed the thermometer and squatted down in front of Kya. Using her motherly, but caring tone, she explained in rather great detail why she's tucking it under her arm. It was a sight that made the airbender's heart flutter with joy - a healer doing what she does best.

"Aang, could you apply some pressure here to make sure it's in contact with her skin and doesn't slip anywhere?"

"Sure."

He held his hand against Kya's upper arm to keep the thermometer in place for a few minutes. She no longer seemed to mind them prodding her in any way. She had what she'd wanted: sweet relief, literally.

Katara stroked their daughter's rosy cheek with the back of her hand to pass the time. She wore a loving smile, but her brows were furrowed in concern. She was thinking of a way to remind her baby girl why it was essential for her to know when she's sick.

"Sweetie.. I wanna help you feel better, but I can only do that if you tell me what's wrong. Will you promise me that from now on, when you don't feel well, you'll let mommy know right away?"

"Okay, mommy."

Katara let out a content hum at that. She scooted closer and pressed one last kiss on the little waterbender's forehead.

"Good girl. And in turn, I promise I'll try not to overreact so much."

She pulled the thermometer out from under her tunic and had a look at the silver line of mercury inside the glass. Her smile grew wider, she had no fever.