#Our baking is much better and their everything else is better

[obsessivefangirl]

Americans and British people teasing each other is unhinged because Americans will lightheartedly make fun of their accent, pronunciation, words for stuff and teeth and the British people pull out the school shooting statistics immediately

[cursedcola]

Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle (Here) | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: Putting all my brain rot from my notes into something cohesive. Contrary to my love for ripping your hearts out, I've come with some fluff this time around. BTW you may or may not already do things mentioned - I write my works with a specific Yuu in mind for each character so this is based on them. Just a reminder.

Habits You Steal:

Bargaining (Inherited AND Developed): No partner of Azul's is a shmuck. Not because of his standards (a little bit), but because you will learn to negotiate through trial and error. Being his pearl does not exclude you from daily verbal tango. He can and will still come after Ramshackle if given the opportunity. What? Just come stay in Octavinelle. He won't even charge for it, and you can bring Grim. He is always three steps ahead. Buying him a present is like the world's most daunting task, because he somehow already knows what's inside the box. Every. Time. Even if you shop a year in advance. Don't even start with arguments. He has a rebuttal for EVERYTHING. There is never a winner, only a settlement because he is so stubborn (and you equally so. Pride is contagious). As adults you're constantly exposed to business deals and sometimes have to deal with handling negotiations. Not to mention people with grudges against Azul attempting to shmooze their way through you. Only to find that you are just as manipulative.

"Pearl, Jade says that our deal with the Bas triplets for the next semester has been renewed? I hadn't scheduled their extension meeting until the first Saturday of next month. Would you have anything to say on this?" <- Long story short, the triplets tracked you down to beg for help in getting out of their work contract with Azul. He was always fair, and they entered willingly. No corruption on his part...but they were hell bent on not working in the kitchens with Floyd anymore. Solution? You managed to shmooze an extra week on their terms, in exchange for not being put on Floyd's shift anymore. Azul is so proud - but don't do that again. You're the one telling Floyd he doesn't get to play 'spot the difference' with the triplets anymore. Not him.

Smell Sensitivity (Developed): Nothing shanks the nostrils like sea brine. No pun intended. Lingering around Octavinelle equates to constantly smelling fish. Most students there come from the coral sea and don't mind it. Others only stop in for a quick bite to eat, and don't stay a moment more. The Mostro Lounge just has a potent smell that can't be found anywhere else. Like McDonald's french fries...but fish. Grim loves it, you now get nauseated when a scented candle is lit.

"Must you pinch your nose? Think of my- Octavinelle's reputation for a moment" <- Azul is brewing a scent masking potion as we speak. You're really hitting his pride here, even if you can't help it.

Glasses Wipes (Developed): Octopunk heats up when you so much as touch him in public. Then his glasses get foggy. If you wear makeup, its smears on his skin (to which he acts unbothered, but we all know it's a ruse). He obviously carries a hankey but having some wipes on hand is a nice gesture. Unnecessary, but sweet-ish.

Refined Pallet (Inherited): The cup ramen and foraged greens just do not cut it anymore. Not when Azul's made a VIP menu over at the lounge just for you. Sure, the place has a variety of options but he'll always get Floyd to cook up whatever you're in the mood for. At a discount (since Grim can eat him out of pocket). Have you ever had 100% dark, sea-salt chocolate imported from the coral sea? Ever tasted it in a rich devil's cake, baked fresh with only the best ingredients? Betty Crocker, who???

"I must say, your diet could still use some work - do not look at me that way. The twins found your hidden stash of instant noodles during our 'occupation' at Ramshackle. Under the stairs, pearl? Really? When was the last time your sodium was checked?"

Aversion to Sea Food (Developed): You will never understand how the Coral Sea students are okay with the Mostro Lounge. Neither what was running through Azul's head when he decided to open a SEA FOOD restaurant. Honestly? Red flag. One you ignored, but still a red flag. The existence of merpeople and therianthropes is still new and novel to you. To each their own, but you can't eat any sea creatures knowing that it could be - no, it can't be? Floyd's always joking that Azul is tasty but...it's just a joke, right?

"As much as Floyd loves to special make your chicken strips with wedges...why do you never order from the public menu? I assure you, Mostro Lounge is supplied with only the highest quality - h-huh? What crazy thoughts are you having?! Honestly!" <- This explains so much. He always thought you stared at the food with envy, because Grim would eat your pocket out and leave you to sip on lemon water. He had to force the special 'vip' meals down your throat at the start. is this why you're so uncomfortable having lunch with Floyd and his weekly Takoyaki binge?

Appraisal (Developed): Ever see those shows where a professional goes around to antique markets, and can point out forgeries, fake gems, etc. by eye? That is Azul. He's a collector of gadgets and gizmos aplenty - anyway. Strolls through antique marts, coin collecting showcases, and other marketing events will undoubtably train the eye over time. No scammer will ever shmooze ya out of house and home. Sorry Sam.

Habits He Steals:

Jacket (Developed): Mermen run cold. The uniform blazer Azul dons is more-so just for show than anything. Clothes are overall a novel concept, since most in the coral sea dress minimalistic (or not at all). The lounge runs quite chilly as well. Not enough to deter customers, but the perfect temperature to get uncomfortable after a few hours. Now Azul has many jealous bones in his body, and would rather drop dead than see one of the leech twins loan out their blazer so you can nap in the back room (they're doing it on purpose). Azul often offers his coat out to you the moment you walk inside - so often, that all the part-time workers know if you're on lot if he's walking without it.

"I need my jacket back, please. Why? N-no particular reason. Do I need an excuse to wear my own clothes?" <- Ruggie - Mostro Lounge's most reliable and simultaneously difficult part timer, mind you - was the first to pick up the correlation. If the VIP lounge was shut, and Azul was out doing quality rounds? It meant you were in the back, and he was in a better mood. The perfect time to sneak a platter unnoticed. Azul must take precautions.

Snitches Get Stitches (Developed): ONE perk of living with ghosts. Honey you get ALL the tea on campus. You just need to butter them up with a game of pranks and it’s ripe for the taking. Now, who do you think is going to make full use of this? Azul. They won’t give it to him directly because it’s more fun to make him frustrated. Which means he has to go through you. *Which means* he gets very crafty in buttering you up for details.

Midnight Hour (Developed): This mainly applies to his adult years. Wherever he goes - business or otherwise - you come with more often than not. As a youth his dealings were important - yes. Yet he was still getting his swimming legs in business and his primary demographic was students. Contrary to his pride, Azul wasn't someone important. Someone actually worth targeting like the Briar Prince. The real world is much more risky. You can help with negotiations and running facilities. You might 'think' he is tossing you into the end zone with all his ambitions...but no. Any dealings with high-stake confrontations are handled only after midnight.

"Two-o-clock in the am hours. That is the latest I can offer - well, it seems we've reached an impasse. This deal clearly is not worth my effort, if such 'accommodations' are beyond your capabilities. Allow one of my partners to escort you off the premises." <- Let's make one thing clear. No contract is ever worth putting you at risk. One twin (usually Jade) will remain at his side, the other (Floyd...because he's honestly not the best for negotiations. More guard dog material, and has fun hanging out with you) back with at the house/hotel. Azul doesn't trust 'anyone', and the Leech family is obviously in business with him. He takes no chances, screw probability, and can't kill the inner control-nerd in him. He's never out past three-am and would rather you feel a bit left out then dead somewhere in the Stillwater.

Land Legs (Developed): Considering he will be on land more for the foreseeable future, Azul puts more effort to building his land legs. Not that he wasn't trying before, but there wasn't any guarantee that he'd be working the land beyond NRC. So with the reassurance that 'something' (someone) will require his attention on shore, he decides to invest the effort. Azul will not get on one of those flying deathtraps past academy years though. He's getting a license and pulling up in a new Bugatti.

Pictures (Inherited): Much to Azul's chagrin, you love photos. Maybe it's because you have little to recall from your own world. Maybe it's because you're in the photography club. Maybe it's because you love his misery - but you are always taking photos. At first he insisted that you never get him in the frame. He hates them. Still does, do not misunderstand...and the idea of someone having so many with him included eats him up. Yet his insistent denials do lessen, and he tolerates them. You cannot post them anywhere. Yet...he will only 'mildly' grimace when looking at them around your house. Only because who the heck is coming over that he hasn't approved of?

"This picture? Ah...that is my dear pearl. They are breathtaking, are they not? I truly am the most fortunate man alive. Ah. My apologies, let's return to discussing the contract terms. May I see your completed punch-card?" <- And because you're in them too. As a youth, he kept your photo on his desk in the lounge. Sometimes a client would ask about you, and he'd lapse for a moment before folding the frame down and out of their view. He'd tuck it away whenever you came around, but would talk to it when alone. About his day, his work, whatever first year came crying because Floyd used them as a dart board - and dare I say that he'd keep a family photo in your later years together. Azul hates pictures of himself, but not as much as he loves ones of you. Look at him. Big softie.

—

"Of course. I have remarkable potential as an instructor, do I not? Is it not a great fortune to have me as one's partner? Take this as a lesson that your boss can influence even the most lost souls." == Azul shows no reservation. The moment he caught two part-timers gossiping about your 'conversion' to the 'dark side'. Why, he was positively beaming. His grin wide with a touch of something sinister. Gossip is fine, but they should know better than to do so in his den. Anything noteworthy would undoubtably reach his ears with time, but oh was it a joy to watch them squirm. Honestly. They're fortunate that he's in such a good mood - what was intended to be slandering has just made his day. They're still getting put on shift with Floyd though. He's merciful, yet no martyr.

Habits you steal:

Foraging (Inherited): You are always looking around for plants to propagandize. It's like stealing but not - because Crowley doesn't have any 'rules' about it so...heh. Free food. Jade's a living encyclopedia when it comes to botany and agriculture. He's the whole reason you've got a mini apothecary going in the kitchen and that instant-noodle stash got amped up in flavor. What? you ever add some fresh mushrooms and green onions to that instant chicken yakisoba? Mwah. The mountain lover's club needs to look out, 'cause the Ramshackle Prefect is about to bleed campus dry for every last specimen.

Yapping (Developed): Spinning off the above 'route'. Many people think Floyd's the talkative twin. Nah. This motherf*cker does NOT shut up. He treats you like his second conscience, asking questions he doesn't expect to be answered and giving commentary like your own personal narrator. Who needs thoughts when he literally says everything before you can think it? Floyd salutes you - 'cause finally. Finally, it isn't him subjected to Jade's inner spiels. Sorry Shrimpy, you are a sacrifice he's willing to make. If you ever break up or fight with Jade - Floyd's going to hunt you down - he can never go back. Never.

On a side note, you're an excellent listener now.

Tea (Inherited): Do you hate tea? No you don't. Not Jade's tea. There isn't much to comment on here, other than you will develop a taste for his Atlantic Twice-Seeped Water-Lily brew. You'll be craving it every night if ever sent back to our world (as if that'll happen). Mixed with honey from the Afterglow Savannah and served in a baby-blue ceramic cup that has a shimmer handle. That's your mug, by the way. He has other brews...some improvised and caution is indeed extended. They're tasty for the most part though.

“Ah, just smell that aroma. I developed this blend made just for you, my dear. I’m not one to seek out sweet floral notes for my tea, yet this flavor is an acquired taste that pulls you in for more. I finish the cup without realizing each time” -> Jade can be sweet himself, when he wants to be.

Wearing gloves (Developed): Jade makes you touch weird shit. All the time. Unprompted. He also makes you eat weird shit, but more often than not you can escape by shoveling his experiments onto someone he can get a more interesting reaction out of. Classically condition him not to feed you the weird shit by being unresponsive - off topic. Point is that with his obscene collection of terrariums? Plus being pulled along for foraging quests? You will be touching unknown and possibly poisonous plants, bugs, dirt, maybe some aquatic creatures like toads and fish. For all that is good, keep a pack of rubber gloves in your schoolbag. Keep a pair of insulated leather gloves in your breast pocket at all times too. Hand Sanitizer as well. Who knows when you’ll be elbow deep in murky water riddled with mysterious rainbow moss. What makes it rainbow? You don’t know and Jade won’t say. He does quip that it changes colors with emotions. Screw Twisted Wonderland and it’s freakish botany.

“Oh my, would you look at that vibrant shade of purple. Why are you so frightened? These are meant to be happy ‘bonding’ times for us as a couple, isn’t that what you said? Fufu - oh. Hurry up and put it in this jar. You’ll ruin the sample at this pace,” <- In truth, Jade saw red blooming at the edges of the moss and called quits before your nerves turned to anger. Fear? Amusing. Especially since you have more harmful ‘house plants’ growing on the mantle back at your dorm. Curtesy of Jade himself, of course. Azul doesn’t let him store his more precarious collection in Octavinelle and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. Yet he won’t push the jokes too far, since so few ever come out foraging with him. No no. He needs you to continue as a willing participant. Don’t get angry at him just yet, there are still so many places to explore and the day is young!

Doppelgänger Paranoia (Developed): The Leech twins tried to pull that shit where they swapped places for a day. Therefore you are now freakishly paranoid of Floyd trying to take Jade’s place to pull a prank. It is no help that Floyd is insanely good at mimicking his brother and vice versa. Sure, you could make a keyword or ask Jade to wear something special as a give away. Mark him. Maybe make an excuse of it being a thing human couples do and stick a pin on his lapel. Yet there isn’t a guarantee that he won’t just let Floyd in on it to see what happens. He’s a jerk like that, but your jerk nonetheless.

“Your caution is entertaining, and I do find all this extra attention flattering. Yet there are more taxing worries to mull over, wouldn’t you agree? Surely I’ve earned enough trust to circumvent any doubts in that mind of yours?” -> Do you know that the twin-swap was just a one time trick? Probably not. Doing it again would be boring with no novel results, but Jade does love watching you squirm with suspicion. He’ll offer an assurance eventually, and it will be your call to believe him or not. Until then? He has no problem being under your watchful eye. It’s quite cute, after all.

Habits he steals:

Grammar Control (Developed): Purely to piss you off. Coming from another world - your dialect isn't exactly the same as everyone in Twisted Wonderland. There are region specific languages, and then there is the common tongue. For simplicities sake, let's just say that everyone in TWST can speak common tongue and transferring over gave you this ability. Except (like Epel) you carry a heavy accent - and Jade loves to play grammar police. Your irritation never ceases to amuse him. That's right. He's the train kid from the 'Polar Express'. Just less nasal.

“Let’s try to capture that illusive letter ‘R’, shall we? You don’t want to give onlookers any more ammunition as a respectable prefect.”-> Says the only person using this as ammunition, except for Ace when he gets really snappy and Riddle’s mild cringe when your accent butchers a toast at the Unbirthday party. At this point you’re hearing ‘red leather, yellow leather’ and ‘mark went on a lark after dark’ in your sleep.

Routes (Developed): Another one with the need to have a bit of control. Just a bit. Get ready to roll out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn, because he will be there at five-am sharp to haul you back to Octavinelle (or on a hike. Saturday's only). Isn't it a human custom to stick close to your partner? He's just making sure you're cared for. Which is why you exist attached to his hip most days

Symbiosis 1 (Developed): Only a mild-note for Jade. His brother, noted below, takes this concept more to heart. Jade uses it as an enhancing factor to an already “well-rounded” relationship. The law of the sea dictates that those stronger will enter a ‘pact’ with weaker creatures - protection in exchange for care. You are not in need of protection with that frosh posse and stubborn head of yours. Jade mostly uses this ‘symbiotic relationship’ as a way to get you to do things for him, and to talk down your impulsive behaviors from time to time. Aka you won’t create excessive trouble if it means he feels ‘bound’ to go with (as if he wouldn’t be overjoyed to get in some chaos)

Observation (Developed?): Jade...knows everything about you. It's infuriating (to you, not him), but you are still a potential client regardless of his personal interest. Hobbies, tastes, your worst and best subject, weaknesses -all categorized. Azul and his business come first. Yet you're the only student on campus that has a 'doctored' file. Why?

“I never realized you are adverse to crowds. Yet you handle navigating Night Raven with no difficulties? Is this a mere preference, or would you prefer to find somewhere quiet while I accompany the others? What do you need?” -> (During Playful Land Event) He can't get the finer details without asking questions. There is no source for information about your world or your person other than your word of mouth. His unique magic would be easy - but it's just one question. One, and you might be too resilient for a response. Where's the fun? What makes this a habit is that Jade's keen eye becomes sharper.

Ramshackle (Developed): Bro just moved in. I’m serious. He got permission by pulling a favor. Azul doesn’t let him keep the more precarious plants in Octavinelle, so Jade has overtaken the kitchen with potted flora and fungi. Floyd is enthusiastic that he doesn't have to share a room - what? Twins don't always stick together. Those two probably fight more than they get along. Plus with Jade at Ramshackle it's an excuse to go see what's up with Shrimpy and maybe play with torture the little freshies you hang around with. It’s chapter three but you aren't booted out and have to deal with both Leeches every day. Seven preserve you.

—

“I let my excitement get the better of me for a moment…please, continue as if I am not here. My apologies.” == How rare for Jade’s mask to slip in front of his underclassmen. He was able to brush it off - giving a fib about his clubs upcoming excursion (not entirely untrue. He is excited to go for a hike with you this weekend). Yet the normally dull gossip of his dorm-mates was too much to bare. Not because your changes are becoming more pronounced, but because these little fish are foolish enough to think it’s making him soft. Enough to gossip so blatantly in his earshot? Gods, they make his job much too easy.

Habits you steal:

Leering (Inherited): Floyd...oh dear. He has this habit of staring holes into the back of your head. Anyone's head, really. His presence is intimidating, and it's hard not to pick up what’s going on in his head. There's a catch to this though. You only leer at other people when he isn't around. Too busy with the man in question to bother 'people-watching' (unless you're actually pissed). Riddle is constantly on edge now because he has TWO people giving him the heebee-jeebies. Prefect, it was bad enough you were taking influence from ADeuce. Now the Leech brothers? Well, he'd still take you over Floyd any day. At least you won't try to act on that unsettling aura...yet.

“Somethin’ on my face?…why’re you staring at me like that? Unless you want my attention? Hehe, ya shoulda just said so!” <- Floyd can do it to you, but you can’t to him. Not unless you want to be suplexed and squished tightly for hours on end.

Impulse actions (Inherited): Chaotic energy anyone? Floyd needs a partner who is one of two things - can kick his ass on occasion so he'll play nice, or who will match his freak. Since matching the strength of a Moray Eel isn't something most humans can do? Well, maybe a bitch slap here or there but be aware he is letting it happen. Just know. Better be playful too, not no actual challenge. Point being- you need to match his freak. No buzz-kills.

“Ne Ne~ Yanno, I’ve never seen those super fancy fireworks you land people like to set off. Wanna go get some and rig the - eh? You already got them?….Hahaha Shrimpy’s getting gutsy. I’m so happy” -> His eyes are practically glowing with anticipation. You’re now Azul's third headache 1000%, someone get that man an Asprin.

Snacks (Developed): Floyd can EAT. The only one with a stronger appetite is Jade, but he has a better control over his hunger. While their bodies changed to look human, their appetites did not decrease. Going with ‘symbiosis,’ Floyd gets a bit needy and talks like you’re his internal clock. Jade’s the yapper but Floyd just expects you to know what he needs. So you will always be carrying a selection of snacks (Grim gets in on this) in your bag/purse. Also fidget toys. Not for eating, but to give him when you’re stuck anywhere particularly boring. Props if you can somehow get a two-in-one with the twisted wonderland equivalent of those Air Heads Pull-Aparts.

Lullaby and Goodnight (Developed) : Instant calming effect. Merfolk are very particular with music and are sensitive to vocals. Floyd in particular is super picky. You could be the worst singer on the planet (Floyd will give you half-assed lip for it if you are, in all fairness) but the easiest way to calm him down is with music. It’s cringey and unrealistic to us land-folk but there’s plenty of singing in Atlantica. So humming a soft lullaby for him while sitting together won’t earn any looks in Octavinelle. Unless you sound awful, to which he will punt anyone that speaks out. Not that they would, since a calm Floyd is a godsend no matter the means achieved.

“Did I say you could listen in, hah? Sounds to me like someone’s in the mood for ‘my’ kinda song….don’t move, Shrimpy. This’ll be quick.” <- Good or bad - doesn’t matter. Getting to hear you is Floyd’s privilege. He’s a bit possessive of it, to be frank. So if someone butts in when he’s in the middle of calming down, Floyd’s going to be pissed to the max.

The Little Mermaid (Inherited): Drags you down to the sea at every opportunity. Don’t fight him, just guzzle the vomit-inducing potion and get a move on. Floyd doesn’t care how much a mer-transfiguration potion costs, Azul can take care of it. Floyd hates being restrained to dry land, and hey. He’s up here, so it’s only fair you go down into the sea trenches too. Don’t worry, he won’t take you anywhere too dangerous. He’ll even teach you how to get your sea legs - fish legs? Look. He teaches you how to swim in your mer-form, which he is severely disappointed does not resemble a shrimp.

Habits he steals:

Phone Privileges (Developed) : Floyd’s cellphone is normally in DND mode at all times. The only exceptions are Azul and his Momma - Jade was one too up until they came to dry land. There’s only so many mushroom photos and long voicemails about random crap that Floyd can take. Oh - and you’re an exception now. He saves all your voicemails - some for callbacks to win arguments and others to play when he’s about to sleep. You just better be careful when you call him and what for, also always pick up if he calls you. Otherwise there’s going to be one angry eel lurking by your bedroom window. With ‘first-contact’ privileges, all the unflattering candid pics he has of you are just a click away from being shared if he feels like it (teases but wouldn’t do it. Well, unless you really are ignoring him. Be warned)

Using F*cking Doors(Inherited) : Yes. Yes, you read that right. Floyd loves to parkour across campus. The amount of times he’s snuck into Ramshackle through that tiny circle window in the attic is frustrating. You’re seriously considering bolting the thing shut if it keeps him off the roof and on the ground. Y’know, for someone who can’t fly a broom? He sure has no problem climbing brick walls with his bare hands like some kinda cockroach. A Leech cockroach. Jamil’s worst nightmare good god. After the sixth-or-so heart attack, Floyd’s not allowed anywhere near Ramshackle if it’s not through the front door. The ghosts have strict instructions to punt him…to which he took as a challenge (because of course he did). Until a window was smashed, and you sent hellfire down upon him.

“I said it was an’ accident! What more do you want from me, huh? It’s your fault anyway for sicking those ghost fish on me - Urk…fiiine. I’m sorry or whatever” <- Always will back down the moment you come across as genuinely pissed. Usually with a grunt and hiss under his breath, kicking his foot before stalking off to cool down for a bit. Always fixes whatever he broke or tries to make amends once his mood is less sour.

Symbiosis II (Developed): Paired with the above 'match his freak' and second rendition of Jade's. Except Floyd is 100% serious. Floyd's going to do right by you, but you've got to do right by him. People are going to wonder why the small-pint prefect is sitting here covering one of bro's shifts (they feared for your life when you basically told him to 'fuck off', knowing he was angry after getting scolded by Azul) but that's how it is. Floyd's symbiosis is different than Jade's. He's more impulsive, yet also more predictable with what he needs. The definition of "no one can tell me to do shit except my spouse" 'cause symbiosis is a mutual respect and trade. No one can pick on you except for him. No one can help you the way he does. He is not going anywhere. Ever. Bonded for life - that kind of ‘sappy shit’.

"I already said I don't wanna... ughhh, babysitting those frosh fishies is so booooring. Can't we just ask Azul to lock 'em in a tank or somethin'?.... ALRIGHT, Little Shrimpy. I get it already so stop yammering in my ear...." <- Floyd's the softer brother, if you can believe that. Acts of service are what get him and he thrives on being needed. So you'll be doing it a lot to earn that compliance from him. Be the iron fist that gets him to back down, and simultaneously the one slipping him a few party poppers to set off at one of Heartslabyul's tea-parties as a reward.

The ✨Fashion✨ (Developed) : Surface-world fashion is one of Floyd’s special interests. Oddly enough? You’re a perfectly-sized dress up doll. It’s cute how large his shoes are in comparison to your feet. Hah! You look like a clown clobbering around in those things. He 100% gives you a pair of light up sneakers that sparkle when you walk - makes it easier to find you in crowds. Not that he needs to. Mostly it’s just for fun. He’ll even get a matching pair so you don’t feel zeroed out.

VIP Menu (Developed) : Floyd has a ‘secret’ menu over at the Mostro Lounge. He’s the head cook, don’t ya know? Makes real tasty dishes. C’mon, praise him. He’ll add a few dishes just for you since you’re so picky - that’s a bad trait to have for a broke Shrimp by the way. Good thing he’s around to make sure you’re eating.

“Oi! I told ya that was for you. If the lil’ seal’s hungry he can get somethin’ off the menu on his own…unless he’s lookin’ for a squeeze?” <- One major gripe Floyd has with Grim is how he’s always mooching off your plate. It’s fine if Azul’s picky with his food, cause that’s Azul. You’re different ‘cause in Floyd’s mind responsible for you. Again. He takes the symbiosis thing more seriously than Jade, and will poke your cheek relentlessly and comment if it’s lost it’s squish. He always serves you something to eat, even if you don’t order. Doesn’t let anyone else prepare it either.

Protective (Developed) : At the risk of sounding like a broken record, Floyd is very attentive. He’s clingy as hell and always looking for an excuse to have a good tussle - you’re his favorite person to screw with. Yet only himself, Azul, and Jade get the green card to look at you with anything other than respect. Cause he knows they don’t mean it - and even your little freshman buddies don’t get a pass. Maybe the seal since Floyd could squish Grim like a grape and he knows it. Leona’s almost gotten many challenges for the whole ‘herbivore’ thing.

—

“ ‘s nice, right? What’s better than one of me? Two, hah! Jade might have my face but now Shrimpy’s got my personality” == Finds the situation funny for like, an hour? Maybe two? Doesn’t matter because ‘Shrimpy is Shrimpy’ - plain as that, really. He gets more joy out of teasing people when they find out you’re with him. As if Floyd gives two sh*ts what other people think? Nah.

[imjustreadinglmao]

BLUE PART II

Paring: Azriel x reader, Lucien x platonic!reader

Series summary: After Azriel and Elain‘s courtship is revealed, their mates, Lucien and Y/N, are left to deal with the consequences. While fighting against Koschei and for Prythian‘s freedom, Y/N has to navigate her emotions and learn how to live with the heartbreak of a one sided mating bond. But what happens when secrets are revealed and everything turns out differently than they thought?

Warnings: unrequited love, death, detailed descriptions of fights and blood, angst, characters being idiots

A/N: my last azrielxreader post won’t appear in the tags so reblogs are very much appreciated.

Word count: 3.3k

It’s a beautiful, crisp spring morning. The sun is shining, birds are singing, and the wind carries the lovely scent of freshly baked pies. I sigh at the prospect of leaving this peaceful place and trading it for the Autumn Court.

As I push the heavy oak doors of the River House open, I can feel anxiety coursing through my veins. After fleeing Autumn seventy-three years ago, I didn’t expect to return there so soon, even if only temporarily. It was difficult for me to leave. I couldn’t risk telling anyone about my plans, so I never had the chance to say goodbye.

Knowing my father, he had probably been more concerned about how me leaving would affect his standing with the High Lord and the other noble families. But my mother and sister… I would give a lot to see them again.

All those years, I have missed the familiarity of my home court, the traditions, and the celebrations I cherished so much as a child.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I step into the foyer. Rhysand, Amren, Azriel, and Lucien are already there, waiting for me.

Except for Lucien and me, who are wearing traditional Autumn Court attire, everyone else is dressed in midnight black.

Lucien looks up as I enter, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You look… convincing,” he says.

I let out a breathy laugh at that. The last time he saw me in Autumn colors was at a ball my family hosted, which ended with me puking my guts out, most of it landing on Lucien’s shoes.

Judging by the face he is making, he hasn’t forgotten either.

Azriel, standing beside him, nods in agreement. “It suits you,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary.

His shadows peek over his shoulder as if they want to take a look too.

I try to ignore the flutter of emotions his words stir within me. Instead, I focus on the mission ahead, on the role I must play. The safety of Prythian depends on our success, and I can’t afford to let myself get distracted.

Rhysand steps forward, a mischievous smile on his face. “I have to say, you both pull off Autumn Court fashion far better than I expected. Maybe we should visit the Autumn Court more often.”

Amren, her eyes assessing our disguises, retorts, “If you spent as much time on strategy as you do on fashion critiques, we’d have won the war by now.”

I have to cover my mouth to not laugh out loud and accidentally anger the century-old creature that’s lurking beneath that Fae body.

Rhys just rolls his eyes, clearly undeterred by her sharp tone. “I’ll have you know that looking good is part of the strategy.”

With one last look at me, he stretches out his hand and asks, “Ready?”

I nod, take his hand, and let him winnow me away.

———————————————————

Arriving at the southern border of the Autumn Court, I am immediately struck by the beauty of the landscape. The trees here are taller than I remember, their leaves a riot of red, orange, and gold, perpetually caught in the peak of autumn. The air carries the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the smoke of distant fires burning in hearths.

As we step onto the moss-covered ground, bittersweet memories flood my mind. I find myself thinking of the simpler days of my youth, the carefree ones.

I feel dark talons gently scraping at the shields in my mind and lwt Rhys in. So lost in the beautiful nature, I barely realize him wishing us good luck and winnowing back to Velaris.

Right after Rhys leaves, Azriel begins to scout the area for any magical traps or shields set by Koschei, leaving us to wait for his return. As the minutes stretch into an hour, my anxiety starts to build.

I pace restlessly, my mind conjuring all sorts of terrible scenarios.

Lucien tries to reassure me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“He’ll be fine,” Lucien says softly. “Azriel knows what he’s doing.”

But his words do little to calm me.

“How can you be so sure? He could be injured… or worse. We don’t know what Koschei is capable of!” I snap.

I begin to ramble, listing every possible way Azriel could have gotten hurt. “What if he’s caught in a trap? What if there’s a magical barrier he can’t break?”

Just thinking about him being in trouble makes me want to vomit. “That’s it. He’s taken long enough. I’m going to find him and—”

Amren steps in, her voice cutting through my panic. “Enough. Get your shit together. We don’t have time for this.”

Her bluntness shocks me into silence, and I sulk, feeling chastised.

But Amren isn’t finished. “Oh, quit acting like a child. Maybe if you told him about your feelings and the mating bond, you wouldn’t be so anxious, girl.”

My mouth drops open and I look to Lucien, his face also morphed into shock. When I look back to Amren, she just lifts an eyebrow.

“How do you know about the bond?”

Amren lets out a long sigh. “Only someone stupid wouldn’t have picked up on that. And Azriel being the stupidest of all.”

She rolls her eyes and starts picking at her nails. “We all suspected it. For a while we thought it snapped for Azriel too. The way he followed you around like a love sick fool, we were sure of it. But I guess it didn’t.”

I don’t say anything else after that, my mind not coming up with a response.

——————————————————

Another hour passes, and my worry only deepens. I can’t stop imagining Azriel injured or trapped, his shadows unable to find a way back to us. Every rustle of the leaves makes me jump, hoping it’s him returning.

Lucien tries to keep me distracted, but my thoughts are a whirl of dread. He tells me stories of his own missions, but I can’t focus on his words. My mind is entirely on Azriel.

Finally, just as the sun reaches its peak, Azriel returns. He looks slightly worse for wear, his clothes torn in some places and his face smeared with dirt, but otherwise unharmed. He notices the tension immediately, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“What happened?” Azriel asks, looking between us.

I step toward him, my relief overwhelming. “Are you okay? What took you so long?”

Azriel nods, his expression serious. “There were more traps than I anticipated. It took a while to disable them all, but the path should be clear now.”

Amren crosses her arms. “Good. We don’t have time for any more delays.”

Lucien places a hand on my shoulder again, this time with a reassuring squeeze. “See? I told you he’d be fine.”

I manage a weak smile, still shaken by the fear that gripped me. Azriel’s eyes soften as he looks at me.

“We should move quickly,” Azriel says, breaking the moment. “It won’t be long till they notice that their shields and traps were destroyed. Amren and I will accompany you to the Forrest House, then we’ll separate and follow the original plan. It’s too dangerous otherwise. We can’t risk you.”

Lucien nods and gestures for me to go first. “Let’s get moving then. The sooner we’re done here, the better.”

We begin to move deeper into the forest, leading to Beron’s residence. The beauty of the surroundings contrasts sharply with the danger I know lurks nearby.

As we walk, I steal glances at Azriel, wondering how he can be so calm and collected all the time.

Gods, I nearly lost my mind over him doing his job. I am a hypocrite for snapping at him the other day. Yes, I am mad at him for courting Elain, but I also can’t expect him to be loyal to me when he doesn’t even know that we’re mates.

How different things would be if it had just snapped for him the second it did for me...

It happened three years ago. Unbeknownst to us, we were just celebrating the last winter solstice without Rhys when it snapped into place.

One moment I was admiring him from afar, the next I was connected to him for the rest of my immortal life.

He had still been in love with Mor back then, so I chose not to say anything. A huge mistake, because soon after, Elain came into the picture.

Truthfully, I never thought they were anything more than friends until I overheard Rhysand ordering Azriel to stay away from her. It wasn’t until then that I realized I had lost him forever. He wasn’t going to stay away from her, so I accepted my fate and kept silent.

———————————————————

After five hours of hiking through bushes, stepping in rabbit holes, and nearly getting killed by a boar, I can feel the exhaustion creeping into my bones.

“Can we please take a break? My legs are going to fall off,” I ask.

Amren smirks, not breaking her stride. “And here I thought you were tougher than this.”

Only Rhysand’s plea to behave and work together holds me back from strangling her. Gods, she really is a cranky hag.

Lucien chuckles softly and turns to me. “We’re only a few minutes away. Hang in there.”

I groan but press on. As we finally crest a hill, the sight of Beron’s castle comes into view, exactly as I remembered it. The imposing structure looms against the deep orange sky, its dark stone walls lined with creeping ivy. Tall, narrow windows glint in the dawning light.

“It’s just like I remember,” I whisper, a mixture of awe and dread washing over me.

Lucien glances at me, his expression unreadable. “Let’s get ready. We need to find a way to get in there.” He points to the entrance of the castle, where nobles are lined up to enter the masquerade ball hosted by the High Lord himself.

We slip through the dense forest that surrounds the castle, our movements silent and precise. Azriel scouts ahead, his shadows cloaking him in near invisibility. After what feels like an eternity, we find a secluded spot to prepare for our infiltration.

“Here,” Amren hands both Lucien and me a stack of clothes. “These are your disguises. You will pose as Lord and Lady Hawthorn. The late Lord Hawthorn died three months ago. You are recently married with no offspring or heir yet. This is your first outing as Lord and Lady. Some might recognize your name, though they should not look twice your way. Be discreet and don’t draw attention.”

“What about the real Lord and Lady Hawthorn? What if they decide to turn up and out us as imposters?” I ask.

Azriel shifts on his feet and answers a bit sheepishly, “Don’t worry, they have already been dealt with.”

My brows furrow in confusion. “What do you—” realization dawns over me. “Oh… oh, okay. I guess that makes this a lot easier.”

I grab the clothes Amren gave me and head for the nearest bush to change. When I look back, Azriel has his head tilted sideways and smiles at me.

The dress I change into is a deep burgundy, adorned with delicate golden embroidery.

The fabric is soft and luxurious and fits me like a second skin. The mask is made of similar fabric, with intricate golden lace around the edge of it.

As I step out from behind the bush, my eyes find Azriel’s immediately.

His eyes, usually so guarded, widen slightly as they take in my appearance, his gaze lingering on the details of my dress and the way it clings to my form.

“You look… stunning,” he murmurs, his voice low and sincere.

I feel a blush rise to my cheeks and look away, focusing on Lucien. Lucien is similarly attired, his outfit complementing mine with its dark tones and subtle elegance.

He grins at me. “Shall we, Lady Hawthorn?”

I bark out a laugh. “We shall, Lord Hawthorn.”

———————————————————

Getting inside the Forrest House was easier than expected. We just walked right up to the entrance, stated our names, handed them our fake invites, and were ushered in.

As we step into the grand ballroom, the sheer opulence of the scene takes my breath away.

Crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, casting a warm glow over the sea of elegantly dressed nobles. Musicians play softly in one corner, their melodies mingling with the murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses.

At the far end of the room, atop a raised dais, sits Beron, his cold gaze sweeping over the crowd. To his right stands Eris. Our eyes meet briefly, and I give a subtle nod, which he returns.

Lucien and I mingle with the guests, keeping our eyes and ears open, waiting for Eris to give us our signal.

As Beron rises from his throne, a hush falls over the grand ballroom. The guests turn their attention to him. He begins to address the crowd, his voice echoing through the vast space.

“Welcome, esteemed guests, to this celebration of our enduring legacy and power,” Beron proclaims, his tone laced with self-satisfaction.

Just as he is about to continue, the heavy doors of the ballroom burst open. A squadron of Eris’s soldiers rushes in, their armor clanking loudly. The crowd parts like a tide, murmurs of confusion and fear rippling through the room.

Beron’s confident façade falters, replaced by one of anger and panic. “What is the meaning of this?” he demands, his voice rising in pitch as he glares at the soldiers.

Eris steps forward, his demeanor calm and resolute. “Father,” he begins, his voice carrying a chilling edge, “it is time. Your reign has been marked by tyranny and cruelty, and I will no longer stand by and watch my people suffer under your rule.”

Beron’s eyes narrow, a sneer curling his lips. “You think you can overthrow me, Eris? It takes more than a few soldiers to claim this throne.”

Eris begins to smile. “Oh, I know. A noble to swear me in and an heir to secure the lineage, right? Well, here they are.” He gestures to Lucien and me.

My eyes widen as I whisper-shout in Lucien’s ear, “He cannot be serious? THIS is his plan?!”

Lucien replies, equally as quiet. “I have learned a long time ago not to question my brother’s way of handling things.”

“You are truly deluded, Eris.” Beron laughs, a harsh, mocking sound. “They won’t accept a random noble as your heir.”

Eris stands his ground, his gaze unwavering. “But they will. Take off your masks,” he says to Lucien and me.

And so we do. Nobles everywhere are gawking at us. Some eyes fixed on me, most on Lucien.

Beron steps down from the dais. “What a surprise. The lost son finally returns home.” He turns his gaze to me. “And you, you’re Lord Yarrow’s daughter, no?”

I don’t answer. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could. I’m rooted in place, not taking my eyes off Beron.

Beron turns to Eris again. “Well, it seems you really are full of surprises. But you’re forgetting one important thing. You would have to kilI me to claim the throne. And you’ve always been weak, Eris. You’re not strong enough, but you shall try.”

In that moment, I realize what Eris was doing. He was provoking his father into accepting his challenge, and Beron just did exactly that.

“I’ve had a long time to prepare.”

And with that, all hell breaks loose.

———————————————————

Chaos erupts as Beron and Eris clash, their swords flashing in the bright light of the ballroom. Beron's strikes are powerful, but Eris is swift and precise, his fire magic flaring up with every swing.

Lucien and I are quickly surrounded by Beron's soldiers. The nobles' screams fill the air as they flee the room in terror. I manage to grab a blade as the first soldier aims right for my neck.

My heart races as I parry another soldier's blow, my muscles straining with each clash of steel. Lucien fights beside me, his own fire magic scorching the air around us, incinerating our enemies with fiery blasts.

The ballroom is a whirlwind of chaos.

As we cut through the soldiers, our eyes are locked on the fight between Eris and Beron. We try to reach them, but more and more of Beron’s soldiers are streaming in.

Eris and his father fight with brutal intensity, their swords ringing out as they meet. Eris dodges and strikes with a precision that keeps Beron on his toes, but his experience gives him the upper hand, forcing Eris back step by step.

Just as Lucien and I are within seconds of reaching Eris and Beron, the ballroom doors burst open again. Five of Koschei's soldiers, dark magic radiating from them, storm in. They immediately begin slaughtering nobles, women, and children alike. Their dark magic tears through Eris's soldiers as if they were paper.

Lucien and I have no choice but to turn away from Eris and Beron and face Koschei’s magic wielders.

I take several hits to the gut, and a sword slices across my cheek, but I fight on, managing to take down one of the dark soldiers. Lucien, with his fire magic, kills two more, but before the third soldier is turned into ash, he drives a sword straight through Lucien’s chest.

Lucien collapses to his knees, blood pouring from the wound. I rush to his side, my heart pounding in my chest. Lucien's eyes flutter, and he tries to speak, but I stop him. "Save your energy," I beg.

He begins to close his eyes, the loss of blood making him weaker and weaker. "Lucien, stay with me!" I cry, trying to stem the flow of blood with my hands.

I have to get him to a healer fast; otherwise, he will bleed out. So I do the only thing I can think of.

Desperate, I tug on the bond with Azriel, praying that he will sense my distress.

A moment later, Azriel bursts into the room, Amren in tow. Azriel’s eyes widen with panic as he spots me and Lucien. He rushes to us, dropping to his knees beside Lucien.

"Azriel, you have to winnow him back to Velaris," I plead. "Find Madja , now!"

Azriel looks torn. "I can't leave you," he says, his voice tight with fear. “I— not like this. Not with you being my—”

"Amren is here, I’ll be fine," I insist, glancing at Amren, who is finishing off the last two of Koschei’s soldiers. "Please, Azriel! I can’t watch him die. I am begging you, just go, please!"

Azriel nods reluctantly, wrapping his arms around Lucien. With a final, desperate look at me, he winnows away, leaving me behind in the chaos.

With Azriel and Lucien gone, I feel a pang of anxiety, but I have no time to dwell on it. I turn back to the fight, watching as Eris and the High Lord continue their deadly duel.

Around me, the battle rages on. I join Amren, who is ruthlessly dispatching the remaining dark soldiers with a ferocity that belies her small stature.

Together, we fight our way through the chaos, our movements synchronized from years of fighting side by side.

We are fighting for what feels like hours. My arms ache from dealing blow after blow, and my eyes are getting blurry from the lack of sleep.

I steal a glance at Eris and Beron, watching as they exchange hits. Eris manages to land a few blows, but Beron shrugs them off.

The two of them are evenly matched, but the High Lord’s power coursing through Beron's veins gives him a slight edge.

Suddenly, Beron lunges forward, his sword aimed at Eris's heart. Eris barely manages to block the strike, their blades locking together. Fire erupts between them, and for a moment, it looks like Eris might be overpowered.

But Eris digs deep, summoning a burst of strength. He pushes Beron back, their swords disengaging with a loud clang. Eris's flames burn brighter, and he steps forward, pressing the attack.

The next moment, everything is quiet. No swords clashing, no screaming, just utter quiet.

As the flames subside, there, in the middle of the ballroom, not moving, is Beron.

The High Lord of the Autumn Court is dead.

[jackdaw-kraai]

Comprehensive Anti-Body Odor Guide

Do you stink? Do you not wish to? Do you feel like you've tried everything and are at your wit's end? Never fear, I'm going to take you through every single thing I know about reducing and managing offensive body odor and feeling better about it, because point number one:

It's Not Your Fault:

Regardless of what advertising, social media, your peers, your family, intimate partners, or anyone else has told you, you're not morally inferior for struggling with your body odor, and it's not a sin on your part. You are a human being, and therefore, an animal. A mammal specifically. Your body naturally produces scents and odors for all kinds of reasons, including to signal something socially (yes, really) or as a symptom of something being wrong in your environment or body.

You are going to smell.

The thing I'm going to help you control is whether or not, to your own nose or that of others, you smell bad.

But know that even if you follow every step and tip and trick I give you, you are never going to be scentless or naturally smell like something other than a human being. Your body, naturally, will never produce scents like those of perfumes, soaps, or other things you and others consider pleasant.

This is okay.

You are not a flower, a fresh-baked pastry, a musk gland, or anything else. You are a human. You're going to smell like a human. I know this can be difficult to deal with, but that's a fundamental thing I need you to accept and be okay with before we proceed, okay?

It's fine and morally neutral to produce the natural scents a human body does, and fundamentally, you cannot change that.

All that being said, scent is an important sense to the human experience, and plays a much bigger role in our lives than we're popularly led to believe. You may have heard of the fact that taste is mostly smell, or that smell is the sense most strongly connected to our deep memory. This is all true, but smell is also an important way to gauge health and social well-being, which is why smelling in a way we consider bad can be such a struggle. Therefore...

Accounting For External Factors:

There are many reasons other than the topics that we're going to touch on that can contribute to offensive scents. Your cleaning habits, being sick, your general environment, it can all contribute to smelling bad.

First to address the heavy and serious stuff, because unfortunately, if this guide is to be as comprehensive as can be, it needs to be addressed. Head's up for discussions of addiction, mental health, abuse, and poverty, and how it can affect a life. If you're not up for it, but still want the tips, skip to the next enlarged, bolded heading where I'll continue to address more common, less heavy causes of BO.

Without further ado.

Sickness, especially addiction, can heavily contribute to body odor, and may not always be easy or even pleasant to deal with. Infections can smell bad. Smoking can cause some serious Bad Odor in your mouth, clothes, house, ect. Depression can contribute to being unable to care for basic hygiene, which, of course, can smell bad.

I need to reiterate: this is not a moral failing.

This is your scent functioning as intended.

Bad smells can often signal that something is Wrong with the person carrying it, in this case you. It allows you and others around you to know that there may be something going on in your life which either prevents you from grooming yourself properly, or cannot be groomed away at all. This is normal. We are a social species with social adaptations. Being able to know that something might be wrong with our troop, even if no one knows how to put words to it, is a vital survival skill, even in the modern day.

If your ear, privates, or other part known for being "dirty" itches, burns, otherwise hurts or irritates, and stinks, go to a doctor, you likely have some sort of infection or other minor injury that makes you more vulnerable to infection. Fungal, bacterial, and even viral illnesses and infections can produce some of the foulest scents you've ever smelled, and often throughout history this was one of our main diagnostic tools. Even today we still use it to note that something's wrong, with me telling you this in this post as a prime example.

Again, this is not you being filthy, or morally depraved, this is you being sick. However embarrassing it is, it's part of being human, completely normal, and treatments are often readily available. These kinds of issues can arise from all sorts of normal, every day activities, even issues related to your private areas. While certain activities I won't name at a risk of being censored can and do lead to these issues, other sources can be: sweating in tight or poorly breathing clothing, walking through nature, sitting on a surface that happens to have bacteria or spores, wiping after going to the toilet, using any kind of public bathroom even if it's cleaned regularly, and many other such riveting and scandalous activities. All this can happen even when fully clothed and if you wash regularly. It's normal, and a part of being human, I promise you.

Go to a doctor and get a diagnosis if possible, even if treatments are over-the-counter. Bacterial and fungal infections often have extremely similar symptoms, to the point even professional misdiagnosis is not uncommon if the professional isn't paying attention.

Common "alternative" treatments made from household ingredients and especially essential oils can exacerbate any symptoms severely due to being in large part comprised of nutrients that feed the infection (in case of things like herbs, garlic, sugar, and honey), insufficient disinfectant (hand sanitizer, drinking alcohol, mouthwash), or outright harmful chemicals (common cleaning products, essential oils, mouthwash). Please only use certified, and well-known medical treatments when handling these issues.

Incorrect treatment can worsen the condition and sometimes hurt like hell.

However embarrassed you are, please, please seek professional experience rather than trying to go it alone if at all possible. A misdiagnosis is unlikely to kill you, but can be extremely uncomfortable and prolong the issue. Resort to self-diagnosis only as an absolute last option if you cannot get a professional opinion anywhere else. If you're unable to afford or access healthcare, you might have to risk it, but try and search for possible accredited social programs and charities first.

If you are a minor and cannot trust your current guardians to help you, try and see if you can't confide in a possible school or extracurricular employee like a certified nurse or medic, and an other trusted adult failing that.

Only self-diagnose a possible infection as a last resort, I cannot stress this enough.

And always, always alert emergency responders if symptoms seem to worsen, as any infection you might have could turn septic if left untreated.

This can kill you.

I cannot overstate this enough, an untreated infection left to go septic can and will kill you. If you suspect you have an infection and symptoms aren't alleviating after a few days, if any discomfort you experience is bad enough to even partially incapacitate you, and especially if symptoms seem to worsen or spread, ignore all other instructions and immediately visit a doctor or call your local emergency services to notify them of your status. Even if you don't have an infection, none of these symptoms are normal, and you need prompt professional, medical assistance.

Mental illnesses and addiction are other illnesses which are often ignored or forgotten about when considering why you might smell bad. Even putting aside how these afflictions can make you more susceptible to more conventional illnesses, being unable to take care of your own hygiene is another signal that something is wrong, as grooming is another way to show health. If someone is in a poor state of grooming and doesn't seem to care, check in on them, they might need help for some other issue not immediately visible.

If you are the person suffering from these issues and any instructions further down the list are infeasible, ineffective, or unsustainable for whatever reason because of your situation, it's not your fault.

You are ill and need treatment before you can tackle other issues.

Being depressed to the point of being unable to shower or do laundry is not a moral or personal failing, it's an illness and these are the symptoms.

Being a smoker and having chronic bad breath and nicotine scent stick to your clothes isn't a moral or personal failing, it's an addiction, an illness, and these are the symptoms.

Being a drug user and having physical signs of your use or regularly being in a mental state where hygiene is impossible to maintain isn't a moral or personal failing, they are symptoms.

You are a person suffering from a severe illness, and your struggles with hygiene aren't a consequence, they're a symptom. Either the root issue needs to be treated for these symptoms to alleviate, or you need help in symptom management until such a thing can be achieved, if it can be achieved at all. There are many resources out there specifically for issues like these, and if you're one of the lucky ones, your social safety net is exactly what you are supposed to rely on in times of these. Even if you feel ashamed for needing these services, or are estranged from possible loved ones who might be able to help you due to your issues, please, reach out, and ask for help if you can.

It's a part of being human.

Anyway, all of this was already heavy, but there's still two main elephants in the room waiting to be addressed, so if you're still here, good job. I'm genuinely proud of you. This isn't easy to read, and if it's immediately relevant to you, even harder to confront. So. Take a deep breath. Possibly get up to walk a bit, get a drink, snack, whatever, and let's get back to it.

It can't be avoided when talking about hygiene. Poverty is a major factor in being unable to care for oneself in too many ways to count, and I will be upfront and say I have no personal experience with it, knock on wood. Therefore, while I'll try to be sensitive to the fact that hygiene, like so many other things, is a matter of resources and time, it has to be acknowledged that some of the tips, tricks, and advice I will give can be straight-up impossible for anyone living in poverty, working multiple jobs, caring for dependents, and any other kind of issue that means there can be a strain upon both the budget and time available to tend to one's body odor.

This is not a moral or personal failure, it's a consequence of the inadequacies of our modern society requiring people to sacrifice such vital things as time and resources to devote to personal grooming and maintaining a home. Therefore, while I will try to give alternatives to anything that might be extremely time consuming or expensive, some things just have to be acknowledged as infeasible on certain budgets for either money or time.

If that's you, you are not helpless or lesser, you're just dealing with more obstacles. Pick and choose whatever seems useful or possible from this guide, and I will try and give as much foundational knowledge as I can so you can devise alternative options where possible. This issue might be harder to deal with when impoverished, but with a bit of luck, hopefully you and I can still make progress wherever possible.

And lastly, we have to talk about abuse.

People in abusive environments or relationships often don't have full or sometimes any control over their time or resources. Trying to maintain personal hygiene in these kinds of situations can be next to impossible while also trying to remain relatively safe from the wrath of an abuser. All of the advice I will give in the upcoming sections assume at least a minimal allocation of purchasing power and control over one's schedule and actions. Some people in abusive relationships may be able to make use of them, some may not.

If this is you, I'm so sorry, and I promise you, it's not your fault if you're struggling. Even if your abuser insists otherwise, I need you to hear and trust this: it's not you, it's them. You're not crazy, unreasonable, slovenly, dirty, irredeemable, sinful, damned, disobedient, or anything else they say you are, you are in pain. You're in an impossible predicament, and anyone expecting you to be able to maintain personal hygiene with this kind of pressure is out of their minds.

Find whatever allies you can, severe contact with the person hurting you if possible, and take whatever you can use from this guide that you can. Anything else that seems infeasible or impossible without invoking the wrath of your abuser is immaterial and not your fault. It's their fault, in all honesty. All strength in your struggles, and don't worry about smelling like your fought a war when you're actively in the trenches. Clean up can come after you are safe.

Now, with all the heavy, hard stuff out of the way, and to everyone rejoining us here...

Comprehending Body Odor, The Basics:

Let's start there. What is body odor, and why can it seem so impossible to get rid of sometimes?

Well, unfortunately for you, there's no one easy trick that can rid you of bad smells forever, but rather a myriad of complicated factors that range from basic biology to modern social trends all contributing to why you can gag yourself with the scent of your socks sometimes.

Humans are animals, and the trouble starts here. Animals produce scents, and anyone who's ever been near one or owned one can attest to this cosmic truth. From our poop to our breath, bad smells can come from everywhere, but some sources are more obvious than others. Not pooping or peeing our pants is generally something we learn as a toddler and get better at as we age, so that handily eliminates one of the most common sources of foul smells.

Similarly, dealing with other odors is a learned skill, and one that changes as you get older. Everyone knows the stereotype of teens that smell like gym socks, but rarely do we discuss why this is the case. So, like so many things in the human body, it all comes down to biology and chemistry.

When we enter puberty, we start producing an absolute ton of hormones, and if that's you right now, I'm so sorry, I know it sucks, and all the annoying adults telling you it will get better do so because it's irritatingly true. Just try to survive and you'll get there. As for coping with the sudden influx of unpleasant smelliness, here's the deal. Your body is currently going through a lot of growth, some of it visible, and a lot of it very much not. One of the things currently kicking into overdrive is the production of your apocrine sweat glands, not to be confused with your eccrine sweat glands.

"What the hell are those??"

A thing that will plague you for a long time to come, but, not something that's unmanageable. Let me explain.

The human body is absolutely covered in sweat glands. Just completely covered in it. It's one of the things that makes us special in the animal kingdom, as sweating to this extent is something that's actually pretty rare. Only a few other species have the kind of sweat gland real estate we have, and of them, we definitely make the best use of it. See, part of our evolutionary success comes from being pursuit predators when we're not being grumpy omnivores. It means that instead of ambushing our prey or running it down, we just follow it. For hours. Until the prey is so exhausted it just can't run anymore and, hey! Dinner! Go team, good job, time to hit the showers.

Which we'll need, because part of this strategy, mechanically speaking, is getting rid of the heat our muscles produce as fast as possible so we don't collapse before that poor deer does. Other animals do this through panting, wallowing, sitting in the shade, whatever, but our ancestors didn't have time for that. All of that is either impossible or terribly inefficient while running, so instead what we did is reduce our hair coverage so the sun can more easily reach our skin, increase sweat production to levels almost unheard of, and allow these combined factors to ensure we're basically always walking around in a microscopic cloud of water vapor that acts as our personal heat sink.

It's extremely cool, extremely efficient, and unfortunately part of why you have to deal with smelling awful after you've hit the gym. You see, most of our sweat glands are eccrine sweat glands, which is cool, because these are the ones that mostly produce sweat that consists of water, salt, and a tiny bit of proteins. No big deal, you might feel gross once it dries on your skin, but it's basically odorless, and a quick shower and change of clothes is all you need to deal with that mess, easy peasy.

Unfortunately, this also kicks in your apocrine sweat glands, which also start to produce a lot more sweat, and here's where our problems start. You see, while this kind of sweat is the cause of your problems, it isn't actually the sweat itself that stinks. Sure, it's oily, and opaque, and feels gross, but it's actually as odorless as your eccrine sweat. Modified apocrine glands are actually what produce your tears, ear wax, and even breast milk in those of you capable of it, it's all so cool! Unfortunately, this sentiment is also shared by some of our microscopic fellow earthlings, and that's where we find the culprit of our stink.

You see, while apocrine sweat doesn't smell initially, it actually is designed so symbiotic bacteria living on our skin find it irresistible and start consuming it. Gross! But the worst part isn't that they're your dinner guests in the weirdest of ways, that's actually completely normal. It's that they're rude dinner guests and the sources of the smell that terrorizes gym locker rooms the world over! Their digestion of your apocrine sweat is what causes that stink, and unfortunately, there's nothing you can do to stop it.

Well...

Nothing you can do to stop it permanently.

But you sure as hell can make your displeasure known in the mother of all neighborly disputes.

First of all, let's tackle the source. Now that we know that it's not our sweat itself, but the bacteria that are raining on our parade, the solution is actually pretty obvious: anti-bacterial soap. If you're one of the unfortunate people struggling with reducing your BO, switching over to anti-bacterial soap and shampoo can really help kill the problem at the source, reducing the number of bacteria causing your issues, and allowing for it to take longer for the issue to come back. You will never kill off your bacteria population entirely, and frankly, you shouldn't, they're doing a lot of good too, despite being such rude dinner guests. But culling the population is a great first step in dealing with the problem, and paves the way for the rest of our steps.

And if you're sitting there like "well, that's fine and dandy, but sometimes I just can't shower, you ever think of that?" and first of all, patience, young grasshopper, I'm getting to it, and second of all, yes, I have! If you're one of these people who either can't shower or would need to shower more than you can be bothered to, try using either anti-bacterial wipes or, funnily enough, hand sanitizer with a high alcohol content. Wipes or pads used for cleaning cuts or scrapes and hand sanitizer make for easy portable solutions to a lack of access to a shower or the fucks to use one.

The locations of your apocrine glands that you can safely clean this way are your armpits, the sides of your nostrils, your perineal area, and some parts of external genitalia. We'll talk about that "some" later, but for now, those are the areas safe to wipe down with either a wipe or some hand sanitizer if you can't clean yourself otherwise. Dry shampoo will take care of the glands on your scalp, and baby wipes can take care of the eccrine sweat on the rest of your body if you feel extremely grody. If any other part of your body stinks especially bad and it's not on that short list, you can wipe that down too as long as it's not near any kind of orifice or mucosal membrane (the parts of your body you can touch that feel slimy, like the inside of your nose or mouth).

Now speaking of mucus, it’s time to get back to the genitalia part. Everyone try to stay mature for this, it’s important.

Let’s come out and say it: genitals can stink. They’re actually meant to, it’s part of the whole “social scent” thing, but too much is just too much, y’know? So needless to say, you gotta clean ‘em, but for everyone out there with the whole or partial set that’s more inside than outside there’s an important message: don’t smear fucking soap in there.

“But it stinks!”

It smells. It’s genitalia, it’s what it does, it’s fine.

“But I don’t want it to smell!”

Tough titties, you still need to stop smearing soap on it.

“It stains my underwear!”

I promise you, it doesn’t. Now, everyone who doesn’t have genitalia set that’s more internal than external might be wondering what I’m talking about, and to that I say, shush, this ain’t about you, just listen up.

I’m going to call it a… let’s call it a wallet, to make sure tumblr doesn’t twig and mark this as something it’s not. Your wallet has multiple folds, and a lot of cool properties, but one that’s immediately relevant is that the secretions you always have to deal with aren’t actually ph neutral, they’re slightly acidic. What this means is that those stains aren’t stains, they’re actually places your natural wallet secretions have bleached your undies a bit.

This ph also means you can fuck it up royally if you smear soap in there, so quit it. Rinsing with water will do just fine for the inner folds, and if you really must, you can lightly soap up the outer folds. Soaping it up will do more damage than good, and make you more susceptible to infections and the like. Similarly don’t do anything like douches, or other nonsense that shoves things up in there or smears it on it in the name of “cleaning” it. It’s right next to your waste disposals, and absolutely loaded with mucosal membranes, weird smells are to be expected and are fine. Just keep it clean with water and I promise you it’ll smell less bad than if you use soap.

Cool? Cool. Moving on.

But say it's not your body that's stinky. Say it's your mouth. Well, that too is something you can thank bacteria for, but thankfully is a lot easier to fix. Just do what your dentist recommends you to do, and brush twice daily or whenever your mouth feels gross. If you've got persistent problems, ask them about it. It might be something like a tonsil stone or other foreign object stinking up the place, and they can help you get rid of it easily. Again: doctors are your friends, and dentists are doctors of a very specialized profession.

So, now you're fresh as a daisy! You've either showered or wiped yourself down, you've brushed your teeth, and everything is puppies and rainbows! But we all know that doesn't last long if you've been reading this post up to this point, so how do we keep it this way?

Well.

Deodorant, Clothing, Cleaning, And You:

So we've tackled the skin layer of the issue, and if everything has gone to plan, you're smelling a lot better now! Congrats! But, of course, the real struggle is keeping it that way, so let's get into the weeds, because this is probably going to be a lot of things that you might have never considered before. So, to ease you in, let's start with something you definitely have: deodorant.

You're gonna need it.

I'm sorry, but you do. There's ways to go deodorant-free through life, but let's be honest, if you're reading this post, you probably aren't looking for that kind of lifestyle, so let's get into the thick of it. There's a lot of deodorants out there, but how do you know which one is for you? To put it bluntly, it's gonna take some trial and error, but here's a few guidelines to get you started.

One, you're gonna want something in stick form, preferably a solid stick of deodorant rather than a roller ball like you'd probably envisioned when I said "deodorant stick." Sprays and the like are easy, but if you're struggling with odor, you're gonna want a deodorant that will stick instead of rubbing off throughout the day like most do due to friction from either skin or clothing.

Two, go for something light on the scent. Scentless, if necessary. I know a heavy scent might seem more secure in masking any potential smells, but one, it doesn't, it just blends with the scent and creates a truly nauseating aroma. If you've been in a locker room and smelled a dozen dozen different deodorants and gym sweat mixed together, you'll know the truth of this. Aside from that, perfumes often irritate the skin, and we don't want to make it easier for the bacteria to propagate like they'd do on skin that's more vulnerable to infection due to being inflamed. Go for something lighter, it'll not only be kinder on your skin, but also allow you to actually smell when it's time to clean yourself again and reapply.

Three, look for a deodorant that moisturizes as well as blocking perspiration. It's great that you're reducing sweating, but your skin still kind of needs that moisture, so if you're damming up one source, you need to provide another to make sure nothing funky starts happening. Keeping your skin healthy helps prevent curing one problem by causing another, and irritated skin really isn't any better than smelly skin.

So now you have a deodorant. Keep it with you, along with some wipes, and you'll be set! But that's only half the battle, because all that sweat still needs to go somewhere, so here's the part where you might need to take some notes.

Here's the thing: we're gonna have to talk about fabric. Specifically the fabric you wear and sleep in.

The majority of our bodily filth actually gets absorbed by our clothes and bedding, including our sweat, so if you wanna stay clean, you're gonna need some clean clothes. This is easier said than done, though, as what your clothes are made of matters too, but let's start with some basics.

Here's a rule of thumb if you have no idea where to start: any fabric that touches your skin should be washed after a single day of wear. Everything that touches that layer should be washed after about three times wearing it. Everything that touches that layer should be washed every week.

Mind you, this is a rule of thumb for things you can wash. Suit jackets, genuine silk, leather, ect. obviously goes by its own rules, but if you're struggling to know how often to wash something, don't know how to sort which fabric can tolerate being worn more often than others, or just don't have the time to sort things, this will do in a pinch. Mind you, this is will also wear out your clothes faster if you don't know which garment can tolerate what, but we'll get to that.

Starting from the skin, let's talk about each layer as we go. If you struggle with BO, I recommend switching out your underwear every single day, minimum. Twice a day if you think you can handle it in terms of laundry and the like, once after waking up, once before going to bed. Socks follow the same rules. Wash these garments at 60 degrees celsius, or 140 degrees fahrenheit to prevent any build-up of smells.

After that, we're on to shirts. Tight-fitting tshirts, button ups, blouses, and the like should be washed after every wear. Most people will say you can wear them twice or thrice before you need to wash them, but we're not most people here. We're dealing with stink, and we want to get rid of it, so swap that shirt after every time wearing it. Wash at 40*C, or 100*F for best results if the fabric can handle it.

Pants are tricky, and we'll get more into them later, but if you air them out after each time wearing them and haven't sweated profusely in them, you can wear them three or four times before needing to wash them. Skirts are similar, and if they aren't of a tighter design like a pencil skirt of similar, you can add a wear or two to that number. Wash at the same temperature as your shirts if you can.

Dresses are similarly tricky, but if you're wearing them directly on the skin and have a fitted bodice (the torso section), you need to treat it the same as a shirt, and wash it after every wear. Same washing instructions as pants or shirts.

Pajamas should be washed every two times wearing it, as you sweat in your sleep as well, and sleeping in your bed doesn't help the matter. Wash at 60*C or 140*F with your underwear and socks if possible.

Your bedding should be washed every four to seven days, depending on how much you sweat in your sleep. Yes, really. Yes, I know that's a chore. You're gonna need to do it, sorry. It's a lot of fabric you wallow in, sweat in, and sleep in for eight hours per day, and that's gonna contribute to smells if you don't clean it regularly. Invest in a mattress protector as well, so sweat doesn't seep into it and start to fester there. You'd be surprised how rank a mattress can smell if you sweat on it for eight hours a night, every night, and how that can contribute to you smelling rank after said sleep. It's the reason why you should also put said mattress on an actual bed frame instead of the floor, so air can circulate underneath it and keep it from looking like the bottom of that rock you turn over in the park after a rainy night.

And with all that said and noted...

None of this matters if you don't take note of what your clothes and bedding are actually made of. Because there are fibers that will help you and fibers that will stab you in the back by smelling awful no matter how often you wash it, and I'm gonna tell you which are which.

First of, linen. If you struggle with smells, linen is better than wool, cotton, silk, and anything else when it comes to smells. There's a reason it was the primary fabric of indo-european world since the stone age, and there's a reason I'm recommending it now, and that reason is this: it's the best when it comes to staying clean.

It wicks away sweat, making sure you don't feel icky as well as minimizing smells. It breathes, allowing sweat to actually evaporate rather than remaining trapped against your skin. It helps regulate temperature, feeling cool in the summer and warm in the winter. It lasts for actual, genuine centuries if treated right and can be boiled and beaten to clean it without suffering negative effects. And as a cherry on top, it's mildly exfoliating as well due to the structure of the fibers, absorbing even more filth that would otherwise contribute to feeding the stank bacteria and your BO.

If you learn anything at all from this post, learn that linen is the best fabric bar none to wear against your skin.

Wool is the next best, absorbing moisture like nothing else while remaining dry to the touch, breathing better than most cottons, a lightweight wool will actually keep you cooler in summer than cotton will, and you rarely need to wash it at all as allowing it to air out will take care of most scents and sweat from daily wear. Love wool, adore wool, she's giving us e v e r y t h i n g.

Cotton is third best. This is essentially your economy option if you can't afford, thrift, or otherwise get a hold of the first two. It's decent at absorbing moisture and breathability. It'll handle both heat and cold in a pinch. It won't hold on to most scents if given a thorough wash, and most relevant of all, it's the easiest to find and afford in our modern world.

Silk is kind of the odd one out here, as it's merits aren't in being a skin layer, but an outer layer. In aesthetics it's unmatched, and it's lighter weight than wool while being surprisingly warm. The downsides to it are that it doesn't breathe easily or absorb moisture, meaning it's a very poor choice to wear directly on the skin unless you're fond of swamp ass.

And last and definitely least.

Synthetic. Fabrics.

Look, I'm going to level with you. My hate for synthetic fabrics didn't start as an altruistic "it dumps microplastics in the water with every wash, is literally just plastic, and awful for the environment." It started as it just being the worst at being a fabric. It doesn't breathe at all. It cannot absorb as it is plastic. It won't keep you warm for shit, and the worst, the absolute worst.

It absorbs and holds on to smells. No matter how often you wash it.

If you sweat enough in a synthetic garment, it'll start hanging on to that scent at some point and good luck getting out at that point.

Genuinely, if you struggle with body odor, check the labels on your clothing and bedding, and see how much of it is synthetic and to what percent and then consider how easily you start to stink in them. I'm genuinely not crunchy or hippie or anything like that to most degrees, it's just not my lifestyle, but I'll die on the hill of natural fibers as being infinitely superior in everything except price, and frankly, that's because in clothing if you buy cheap, you get cheap.

If there's one thing I recommend, it's buying or thrifting clothes that are as close to 100% natural fiber as is possible, and researching what types of fabric are best for your needs. Denim, for instance, is often 90% or more made of cotton, but due to the way it's woven and constructed it's awful for wicking away sweat and breathes like shit. If you struggle with BO, consider getting pants that aren't jeans. It'll really help with odor in your more private regions, as well as swamp ass and similar. Heck, consider skirts or kilts, nothing will breathe like that, and you'll have more legroom than you know what to do with!

All this goes for socks as well. If you struggle with stinky feet, get some genuine woolen socks, lightweight ones for warmer weather too. They'll keep your feet dry and minimize the development of smells. Airing out your shoes also can help, same as your jacket.

And lastly.

The Niche Points:

If you're still struggling, and let's be honest, every single body is different, so you still might, there are some remaining things to consider.

Nutrition is one of them, as a diet heavy on meat will cause worse smells on either end of your digestive tract than one heavier on veggier. Now, I want to be clear: this is not a call to go become vegetarian or vegan or any other kind of diet. If that's your calling, that's your business, but it's important to consider that meat and fish and even mushrooms all have very important nutrients in them that contribute to your health and keeping your body healthy. And as we've discussed earlier, an unhealthy body smells worse than anything that eating meat could cause.

What I'm saying instead is that if you know you've eaten a meal heavy on meat, fish, or similar, you can opt to brush your teeth more thoroughly than you normally would, as well as perhaps using something like a mouthwash your dentist recommends (never use mouthwashes without recommendation, guys. Dental hygiene is not a joke, and just because it's sold in a supermarket doesn't mean it's automatically good for you. Bread is sold there too, and I think celiacs would have some opinions about assuming it's healthy for everyone to eat).

If you think nutrition might be a cause for either your digestive processes smelling worse than usual or you being more susceptible to things like yeast infections, talk to a nutritionist or your doctor. What you eat is more important than you think for your daily hygiene, and a change of diet can help more than you think.

On a similar point, if you've tried all of this and you still find yourself surrounded by smells that make you gag, consider giving your place of residence a deep cleaning or hiring a professional to do so. Cleaning too is a learned skill, and some people are better at it naturally than others. This doesn't mean you can't learn, but it also means there is no shame in paying or asking for assistance if you find you need it.

The Conclusion:

Body odor isn't something we often talk about as a serious factor that can affect someone's self-confidence and general happiness, nor what it actually means when someone struggles to manage it. It's often the butt of the joke, but rarely do we consider the underlying issues that we're making fun of.

Teenagers, adult slobs, college students, sufferers of mental illnesses. We all have a stereotypical picture in our minds of rooms covered in dirty clothes, dirty dishes, and of course, greasy, crusty, stained and ripped clothes with a cartoony little cloud of flies hovering around the subject's head. But think about that image and what it really is: a failure of one of the most base instincts the human species has. We are, all things considered, a clean species, and don't let stories of filthy peasants throughout history fool you.

We have a wealth of evidence of bathhouses throughout every kind of civilization, washing fabrics as a respectable profession, hygienic products older than the pyramids, and mentions of perfumes and fine clothing as old as civilization itself. Humans want to be clean and smell good, we always have. A failure to do so is, as with many things thoughtlessly ridiculed, a worrying sign of either a mind in trouble, or thoughtlessly neglected in the education of how to keep clean.

We're born as near-blank slates, and generally acknowledges as needing to be taught not to defecate in our pants. But somewhere along the line that grace disappears, and the knowledge of how to deal with smells effectively and thoroughly is assumed to be simply known. And as such, a failure of simply knowing is judged a moral or personal failing.

This is bullshit.

People need help in all kinds of matters, hell, we need to be taught how to do sex. The thing that ensures our actual species doesn't die out! If we can agree and acknowledge that even that information isn't truly inborn, but taught, we can do the same for other awkward, unpleasant, and mildly embarrassing topics.

Like what to do when you just don't know how to deal with smelling like a stinky gym sock, and are at your wit's end. So let's handle it with some grace and kindness from now on, yes? At least on this post.

And in that spirit, if anyone else here has a recommendation for how to deal with specific stubborn stanks, or has a specific kind of problem I haven't addressed, I hope you all will take such answers and questions in the respect I've given, and treat each other kind.

[hypnos333]

Sloth + lust = Fizz

fizzarolli x Reader x asmodeus

Synopsis: Fizzarolli and Asmodeus purposed to you but only Asmodeus can announce his proposal and Fizz is upset about it

“Just in we have wonderful news for Lazy town and lust city it seems like Asmodeus purposed too the sin of sloth and united both the town and cities-” the Tv cut off with Fizz turning it off pouting as He sat next to a still sleeping you with your diamond ring on your ring finger from both him and Asmodeus.

“Lovely aren’t you supposed to be making deals today” Fizz asked shaking you gently to wake up. Making one of your eyes open as you look at him in a sleepy way.

“Hmm, nope i’ll just have Asmodeus do it” You simply said closing your eyes, Fizz thought maybe he could ask you since even if lazy you were reasonable and less busy. “Why does Asmodeus only get to announce his proposal to you but I can’t do mines publicly” Fizz bluntly ask emotional making you tiredly stare at him as he fiddle with his hands.

You tiredly reach holding his hand, “Me and Asmodeus are overlords hun, but you are different, your special but your also below us it would be a disgrace to every overload if we show up unannounced with you hun” You said reasonably 

Fizz teared up making you instantly sit up and hugged him, he nuzzled into your neck. He sobbed into you. “I-I hate us hiding, I h-hate it so much” He cried.

“Shhhh I know hun, but this isn’t permanent until we can find a right time to announce you before our wedding, I promise honey” You vowed to him kissing him all over his face.

“IM BACK WITH SOME FOOD MY LOVES” Asmodeus yelled out making you jumpy but luckily Fizz was able to calm you with a reassurance hand squeeze. You sigh tiredly before wiping Fizz tears with your sleeve. “Dry your tears hun, everything’s gonna be okay” You said before dragging him downstairs to go downstairs for food.

“Ah hello my sleeping beauty it’s nice to see you awake with your beautiful self” Asmodeus greeted you lifting you up placing kisses all over your face.

“Hello to you too my king” You mumbled before you threw yourself down from him making Fizz panic before clinging to you before you fell off the floor trying to injure yourself. They both looked at you unimpressed as you dragged yourself to get some food in your sluggish both.

“She is something else” Asmodeus bluntly said making Fizz hum in agreement as his heart was still racing from you almost getting hurt.

“Hello Fizzy, How are you?” Asmodeus asked doing the same thing to him too what he did to you.

“I’m okay” Fizzarolli said simply but with a fake smile and sadden voice. Asmodeus gave a questionable face and before he could ask his other lover you came running with baked honey garlic chicken stuffed in your mouth.

You pulled Fizz down from your lover making him try the chicken that claim “Taste better then anything else in hell” making Fizz feel better with you cheerfulness.

“Okay okay I’ll try it” He said making you silently cheer before holding the chicken up to his mouth with a fork, He bit into the chicken before chewing it.

“What did you think about it hun?” You asked

“It’s delicious baby” He answered smiling at you, Asmodeus watched you and Fizz love sickly being loving to one another. He loves days like these.

“Oh right My sleeping beauty I had handled your deals and you have a couple of good ones” Asmodeus stated making you sigh tiredly. “Now now my Beauty we both know you have no choice but to do this” Asmodeus added.

“I know but you know I don’t get nothing done” You said tiredly.

“Let’s go baby we can do it together” Fizz said cheerfully making you nod in agreement before dragging both of them into you office.

“Thank you my loves” You said kissing Fizz lips first before kissing Asmodeus lips. They both sigh in content as you turn to lead them in your beautiful office that your man’s did for you.

[itsjustaninchident]

Baked with Love

Carlos Sainz x baker!reader

summary: where everyone is just obsessed with yn's pastries or where carlos is jealous because everybody seem to be obsessed of yn and her pastries.

warning/s: none

author's note: just a sudden burst of imagination. Anyway please let me know of what you think of it. It would be nice to hear some feedbacks! ❤️

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, and 764,084 others

yourusername baking a little something

view 452 comments...

carlossainz55 I don't think I can finish all of that, mi amor

yourusername who says they're for you?

user1 HELP

user2 NOT YN HUMBLING CARLOS DOWN

landonorris did u make some for me yn?

yourusername kids shouldn't consume too much sweets

user3 I LOVE YN OMG😭

user4 not yn humbling them both😭

user5 I LOVE YN SO MUCH SHE JUST BAKES AND PUT CARLOS IN HIS PLACE

user6 DOES CARLOS REALIZED HOW BAD OF A BITCH YN IS

user7 RIGHT? HE BETTER WIFE HER UP

liked by carlossainz55 and 234 others

user8 NOT HIM LIKING THE COMMENT

user9 he better get the hint

user10 he should because i will do my best to steal yn!

scuderiaferrari

liked by carlossainz55, charlesleclerc, and 422, 054 others

scuderiaferrari what a way to start the race week in the ferrari hospitality! thank you for these delicious cookies yourusername! we might have to add these to the menu next race week!

view 2,320 comments...

user1 THAT LOOKS SO GOOD

user2 i might have to disguise myself as a ferrari staff to get my hands on those cookies

user3 count me in!

user4 gonna sneak in the ferrari hospitality for the cookies

yourusername you better not f up the strategy or no more cookies!

user5 she's so real for this

user6 i do believe the cookies will work like a charm

user7 she's just like us😭

redbullracing what do we have to do to get a taste of the cookies? 👀

yourusername maybe if you let carlossainz55 through I will consider

user8 I LOVE HER YOUR HONOR

user9 SHE'S SO😭

carlossainz55

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, and 893,434 others

carlossainz55 no better way to celebrate your birthday than your girlfriend baking your cake! I love you, mi amor. ❤️

tagged: yourusername

view 4,239 comments...

yourusername i love you too! you're stuck with me and my pastries 🥰

carlossainz55 wouldn't have it any other way❤️

user1 IM SO SINGLE

user2 ME WHEN

user3 suddenly i wanna be a bird on the race track and just be ran over

landonorris ew couple

carlossainz55 kids are not allowed here

user4 not lando being their honorary child

scuderiaferrari happy birthday to our smooth operator!

charlesleclerc happy birthday mate! You better leave some cake for us

landonorris he better be

danielricciardo yourusername please sneak some in the paddock next race

carlossainz55 this is for me only!

yourusername there's plenty enough for you all stop fighting like kids

user5 YN AND HER BAKED GOODS

user6 CAN YOU GIVE US SOME TOO YN

liked by yourusername and 23 others

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, danielricciardo, and 694,903 others

yourusername it is definitely a challenge to bake a lot of cookies😅

view 3,345 comments...

carlossainz55 I'm so hurt that I don't get to keep it all

landonorris stop gatekeeping yn's cookies!

user1 oh to be carlos sainz, who literally tastes everything yn bakes before anyone else😭

user2 one day there will be a get together at carlos and yn's house for the drivers because of how good yn's baking is.

user8 I will be waiting for that

charlesleclerc I will enter the paddock early, last time everybody finished it and there's nothing left for me

lewishamilton roscoe thinks the cookies are good, can he please have some?

yourusername roscoe can have as much as he wants!

user3 NOT LEWIS USING HIS DOG TO GET SOME COOKIES

user4 sir there is a line!

user5 sir please go to the back we're all waiting here

lilymhe please give me some🥺

yourusername i will never forget to give you some bae❤️

carlossainz55 life is really unfair

user6 how is carlos surviving this? he literally has so much competitors for yn's pastries

user7 i mean can u blame them she's literally the sweetest girl ever🥺

carlossainz55

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, and 1,023,649 others

carlossainz55 you get to taste the baked goodies but I get to taste the baker😉

view 73,394 comments...

user1 HE'S HERE TO REMIND US OF OUR PLACE😭

user2 IM SO SINGLE

user3 i hate it here

user4 why can't single people be left in peace

landonorris get off my timeline

carlossainz55 get off instagram then

yourusername you can just tell me you want tiramisu no need to make a post 😉

user5 MOTHER

carlossainz55 you know me so well, my love

user6 YN SO REAL

user7 IS NO ONE GONNA TALK ABOUT THE CAPTION😭

user8 IN BROAD DAYLIGHT?

user9 not the smooth operator for nothing

please send me requests of any scenario with a driver ❤️ I'd love to make them on my free time.

[burningstar-light]

How they comfort you

Category: Comfort & wholesome

Character category: Hotel patrons

Charlie & Vaggie (Poly), Alastor, Sir Pentious, Angel Dust, Niffty and Husk.

Rating: SFW

Type: Headcannons

Charlie & Vaggie

Charlie wraps you up in the biggest hug, like she will not stop hugging you unless you ask.

Vaggie is less touchy but her way of comforting you is sitting next to you in a quiet soothing atmosphere.

Charlie sings softly to you, holding you as tightly as possible, her fingers sometimes sneaking down to tickle your sides.

Vaggie pats your hair back gently, whispering comforting words into your ears.

They both go on and on about how they love you so much.

Prepare to get absolutely smothered in kisses, ends up with the three of you curled up in a cuddle pile.

Alastor

Our dear deer, will drag you up into his room, or if you are up to it to his radio tower.

His way of comforting is less touchy than the others but if you really want to be held, then he would do anything for his little deer.

Plays old jazz and showtunes for you, he hums along.

Lets you cuddle up to his side as he reads to you, he loves the classics. 'Moby-dick', 'The catcher in the rye', 'Dracula' and so on.

Keeps a spare coat around so you can wear it when you're upset, so you are surrounded by his scent... He also just really likes seeing you in his clothes, marks you as his so everyone knows not to touch you.

He his shadow makes you a cup of tea, he makes sure you drink it all before it goes cold, gently pats your head once you finished it.

Sir Pentious

He gives the best hugs, curls his whole body around you, rests his chin on the crown of your head.

He squeezes around you and chats your ears off, he will talk about anything and everything in order to distract you.

Gets the egg bois to put on a show for the two of you.

Will happily stay curled around you for as long as you need, in fact he loves it, absorbing your body warmth is so good.

Has definetly fallen asleep cuddling around you.

Tells you about all his new inventions.

Angel Dust

Takes you out for a night out on the town.

If you enjoy the club scene he will take you ou there, is very careful that you both avoid the people that he usually hangs out with.

Makes sure you both only indulge in alcohol, is very careful to not let you or him get swept up into his old drug habits.

If you dont like the club scene then to a bar it is, he asks Husk for some good bars.

Takes you to one where he can play slow music, he'll keep a sent of hands on your hips and the other cradling your face. Keeps your eyes on him and only him, doesnt give a single fuck if he gets looked at oddly.

Tells you shitty flirty jokes, just so he can hear you laugh, its his favourite sound in the world.

After you are both liqurored up, you'll both go home and cuddle deep into his soft warm bed. Fat Nuggets, joins you, snuggled in between you.

Niffty (platonic)

Bakes with you, please watch her carefully or else she is 100% putting blood in the bakes.

Happily chats with you about all the bad boys, she'll go on and on about all the bad boys and how she wants to punish them.

Sit on your head and happily plays with your hair, if your hair is long enough she'll twist it into braids.

Laughs happily as you two chase around bugs, well shes chasing the bug and you are chasing her.

Husk

He will get you to come sit at the bar with him. He'll gently hold your hand any chance he gets.

Will nuzzle against you cheek and purr softly, anything to get you to feel a little better. He doesn't particularly like giving into his animal instincts but for you anything.

Hums jazz songs for you as he cleans the glasses and wipes the bar.

Once all the others have gone to bed and he can finally leave with you up to his or your room.

But before that he curls his arms, wings and tail around you, his purring is so loud you can feel it in your bones.

Once you two are up in private, he'll put on a nice jazz record, fix you two both a drink to unwind.

He fluffs up the pillows, making a pillow mountain so he can lean back on, gets you to sit between his legs with your back against his chest. His wings wrap around you, cocooning you in a world of safety and warmth, his tail curling around your waist.

His purrs are embarassingly loud as he rests his chin on your shoulder, he loves your scent, keeps rubbing his cheek against your neck to give you his scent.

Shows you little tips and tricks with cards as you two relax.

[tmrwsuns]

(❆⋆.˚) secret ingredient !

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ [hirota riki x reader] ...୨♡୧... wc. 2.3k w. curse words! fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

maki was slightly upset.

well, slightly wasn’t the right word, but he would never admit how upset he was at the fact that his sister had somehow managed to be stuck in the middle of nowhere during christmas eve when they were supposed to carry out their tradition and make their infamous christmas cookies. had she no respect for the art of baking yummy cookies and decorating them like they were being judged by pierre hermé himself?

he scoffed as the thought crossed his head, his arms securely crossed against his chest as a sign of annoyance as he sat on his bed, a random show playing on his screen as he awaited for the only person who could cheer him up at the moment.

you.

maki believed you were some type of magical being, maybe an angel of some sorts. it was the only explanation his mortal little brain could come up with, really. there was nothing else that could make sense as to how much better he felt immediately after seeing you. no matter where he was, the cause of his annoyance of how upset he was, the moment you walked into the room everything banished. his world was suddenly tinted pink, he could only hear your voice and smell your exquisite cinnamon perfume that matched every single season of the year as if the world only changed in order to not be left behind by your constant, beautiful, evolution.

hell, even thinking about it had already made him feel better.

he hummed softly as he tried to erase the smile off of his lips, the image of your smile that wandered around his head almost making him forget why he was so upset in the first place. what was it about christmas cookies? oh, right! his stupid sister and her abandonment tendencies.

the boy tried to focus back on the show after checking the time on his phone for the eleventh time in the last five minutes as an excuse to look at the pretty picture of you that adorned his lockscreen. how much longer would it take you to get there? he was having withdrawals, and it was his fault for listening to you and not going to pick you up himself like he initially planned.

he should just text you, right? you always said you loved when he was clingy anyways.

just as he picked up his phone again, there was a knock on the door that could not be anyone by you. he stood up a little too fast than he should have, but still ran towards the door as fast as his socked feet allowed him too without slipping even if he was currently seeing colored dots in the air.

“hi babe” you laughed softly as his body practically slammed into yours, his arms enveloping you and pressing you to his chest in a bear hug. maki swore he could cry when his senses were filled with your scent and your hand tangled in his hair like it always did when he hugged you like that.

“hi, pretty” he smiled once he broke away from the hug, taking your face in his hands and peppering kisses all over, making sure not to leave a single centimetre unkissed.

“what’s up?” you asked after leaving a small peck on his lips, getting into the house and closing the door behind you. maki almost forgot to answer as he watched you slip off the various layers of clothing that were unnecessary in the heated ambiance of his apartment.

“my sister is still stuck, but outside of that everything is fine” he muttered, a lovesick smile on his face as he watched you.

“that sucks, i’m sorry” you sympathized as you took your hand up to his face to caress his cheek, feeling your heart melt at how adorable he was.

“it’s fine, i’m just annoyed that i can’t show you how good our christmas cookies are” he pouted, looking even more like a puppy than he always did.

“are you sure that’s what you’re upset about?” you asked, an endeared smile adorning your pretty lips.

“what else would it be?” he asked, genuinely confused as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“maybe, just perhaps, you’re upset because you might not spend christmas with your sister this year? you’ve never spent it without her and you have been missing her a lot, haven’t you?” you suggested, looking at him with that softness in your eyes that was characteristic of them when looking at your puppy like boyfriend.

maki thought your words over for a few seconds. you were right about him never spending christmas without his older sister before… also about missing her more lately….

“no, it’s about the cookies” he concluded, making you roll your eyes affectionately.

“you’re impossible” you commented, and he felt his heart race at the thought of being able to see the love your eyes harbored everytime they were looking at him.

“but you love me, don’t you?” he asked, even when he knew the answer.

“more than anything” you smiled and left a quick kiss on his cheek. “now, can we go watch a christmas movie? i’m thinking the grinch” you said after moving away from him and beginning to walk towards his bedroom. 

maki stood there entranced by the way you walked around his house as if you owned it, as if it were your home, too. it made him think of the future, when his house would have you in it permanently and the aroma of cinnamon lingered naturally in every place you went, not only on the side of the bed you took every time you slept over.

he shook his head softly and followed you into his room, cooing at the sight of you already settled on his bed, remote in hand as you browsed through his tv.

“do i have to send you an invitation through mail or are you gonna join me already?” you asked as you raised your eyebrow, making the boy roll his eyes before jumping into the bed and tugging you close to his chest.

…

“no way you’re crying, we’ve watched that movie so many times” you laughed as maki wiped the tears that ran down his cheeks.

“it’s not my fault you’re heartless, you know” he complained, playfully pushing you from your shoulder, his strength making you fall on the bed with a laugh.

“aww, my baby is just sooo sensitive” you cooed teasingly while you moved up, grabbing his face and squeezing his cheeks together.

“you’re so annoying” he laughed affectionately as he let you squish him as you pleased.

“you love me” you smiled and kissed his nose “what do you want to do now, my love?”

maki thought about it for a few seconds, weighing his options in his head. “do you want to make cookies?” 

you felt your heartstrings being pulled at the way his eyes softened slightly as he asked. maki was such a gentle soul, and even if he tried to mask it, the fact that his sister wasn’t there to continue their lifelong tradition was breaking his heart a little.

“of course” you smiled like what you hoped would be reassuring “i might not be as good as your sister, though”

“don’t even worry about that, i’m the secret to why our cookies are so good, she’s just there for moral support” he said cockily, making you roll your eyes humorously.

“sure, mister baker” you patted his head as you stood up, walking to the kitchen and knowing he would follow.

“i’m completely serious” he insisted, starting to prepare all the materials needed to bake as soon as he got to the kitchen. “the cookies would be nothing without me”

“whatever floats your boat, maki” you said, knowing that it annoyed him when you agreed with him like he was a little kid.

“whatever floats your boat, maki” he mimicked you with a stupidly high pitched voice and a silly tone, sticking his tongue out at you like the child he was.

“you’re so childish” you muttered, trying to bite back the smile that fought to take place on your lips.

“and what does that make you, huh?” he teased, looking at you with a raised eyebrow “i bet you didn’t think about that one”

you groaned lightly and decided to ignore him, partly because you had no comeback to that and partly because you were unable to act annoyed when even the slightest thing he did elicited a giant smile from your face.

“let’s start, do you have a recipe?” you asked as you tied your hair up to avoid its intrusion on your field of vision and possibly in the batter you were about to make. you were concentrated in your actions, which led you to miss the way maki looked at you, with a lovesick smile and shiny eyes.

“of course, first we need some flour…”

…

maybe baking wasn’t your strong suit as a couple.

you had never been very good at the art of baked goods. your skills were limited to measuring the ingredients and maybe cracking an egg that would most likely end up going into the mix with some eggshell along with it. your lack of talent was an issue for the given situation, but at least you had the decency to admit your own uselessness. 

on the other hand, your boyfriend claimed he could make christmas cookies that would join armies, even without his sister being there to “aid him with the utensils”. there would be no issue with him recognizing his skill if he actually had one, but based on the current lack of perfectly shaped cookies and the dough that looked a little too gooey to be edible, maybe he was stretching it a little when he called himself a god.

“you have to trust the process, baby” he said, for what seemed to be the nine hundredth time in the past hour as he kneaded the slimy dough with his hands. “see, the flour is preventing it from sticking to my hands” 

the flour wasn’t preventing jack shit, but who were you to tell him that?

“hmm, i see” you hummed as you watched the dough move along maki’s fingers as if it was store bought slime that had been overused. “and at what part does the dough actually form?”

maki glared at you playfully before sticking his tongue out to you, taking his hands out of the slimy mixture and heading straight for the sink to remove the rest of it off of his hands. “we just need to add more flour, that’s it” he assured.

once he finished with his hands he turned back around to face you, already aiming to try and salvage the cookies (along with his pride) when a splash of white powder landed on his chest.

“is that enough flour or should i add more?” you asked with a playful smile, and if maki wasn’t too thrown off by your action he would have probably taken his time to properly gush at how attractive you looked in that moment.

“no way you just did that” he breathed out, still shocked as he watched you with his mouth slightly agape. 

“i’m sorry, mister baker, i misunderstood what you meant by putting more flour into the mixture” you played innocent, feeling way too smug at your own joke. if you hadn’t been so busy gloating, you would’ve predicted the fist full of flour that collided with your chest a few seconds later. “oh, you’re so on!” you exclaimed as you charged at your boyfriend at full strength, looking for things to throw at him without a single care in the world apart from beating him. the kitchen had already been a mess even before your little food fight had started, and the eggs and cocoa that began being thrown around didn’t help much either.

whatever, you would clean it up later.

…

“i’m sorry to say this, but those are the fugliest cookies i’ve ever seen in my life” you commented once maki had taken the batch out of the oven. 

you both stood in front of it, staring wordlessly at the deformed, broken and slightly burnt cookies that rested on the pan. 

“there is no way we did that bad” maki muttered, more to himself than to you as he reflected on what went wrong in the process. he had followed every single rule and instruction perfectly like he had done for years on end, and there wasn’t a single batch that ever end up like this one.

“i’m sorry to break it to you, but we did do that bad” you chuckled softly.

“maybe the decorations can salvage it?” the boy asked, pointing at the many different candies that stood waiting on the counter to be used as christmas decoration.

“i don’t think anything can salvage them at this point” you defended, your nose furrowed at the smell of the burnt cookies.

maki sighed in defeat when he heard your words. he knew there was nothing left to do, and now he had to accept that he was not in fact the secret master of the recipe. 

“i´m sorry we couldn’t get them to be perfect." you mumbled, getting closer to him and hugging his torso.

“there’s nothing to say sorry about, baby” he smiled and hugged you by your shoulders, not caring how dirty your clothes were because of the earlier incident, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “now we know baking isn’t our forte” he chuckled and leaned down to steal a quick peck from your lips.

“definitely not, imagine if we had agreed to do the stupid gingerbread house competition…” you giggled as you left a kiss on his shoulder, making maki laugh softly and shook his head.

that’s a disaster waiting to happen.

★ blue's corner ;; my first ever andteam work ! i know many people follow me for xikers content and i promise i will keep it coming but still, the andteam boys deserve it too. this is a part of the love actually series that i'm doing with both my blogs, so be sure to check it out ! ★ taglist ;; @tiramisumin @astrasng @chiiyuuvv @nicholasluvbot ★ back to the masterlist. ★ please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!! ★ divider by @fairytopea

© tmrwsuns, 2024

[garbinge]

BIO-HAZARD

Leroy Jethro Gibbs x F!Reader // Word Count: 670 Summary: Based on S2E22, Swak. When Tony opens an envelope with an unknown white substance, Gibbs gives you a call to give you a heads up. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Light angst. Bio-Hazard material mentions, banter. A/N: A little small Gibbs fic I've had in my WIPs for a while :)

When the phone rang, it was clear you weren’t expecting the news that it was ringing with. You thought it’d be a quick minute to tell you he’d be home late, again. Which never bothered you, you knew Gibbs was married to the job just as much as you. It was more of a disappointment these days than anything else. You had a few weeks off and were taking the opportunity to be home, catching up on relaxing and being still. Two things Jethro was never good at. Currently, you had decided to give baking a try, the kitchen was a disaster, and so were the brownies you were attempting to make from scratch. 

“Why do people bake again?” You answered the phone, wiping some batter off your forehead and moving to the sink to wash it off. 

You couldn’t see it, but Gibbs gave a slight smile, a disappointing one as his eyes shut. All his way of preparing to tell you as he realized how good of a mood you were in. He was able to see past your disdained comment to know despite failing at baking, you were having a damn good time doing it. 

“Oh no, you’re doing that silent brooding thing that usually means you’re gonna be home late. Look I don’t normally mind, but these are my last few days home before I’m back on the job and I’ll be the one calling you that I’m coming home late.” 

You were met with more silence. 

“Jethro?” You stopped what you were doing and grabbed the phone with a slight eagerness. 

“We got a letter sent here with white powder in it. Got opened up in my bullpen.” His voice was solemn–straight to the point. Giving you the information he had and you needed. Nothing else. 

“Jesus Christ.” You felt like you needed to be moving, grabbing your keys to go rescue him even though every logical fiber in your being knew there wasn’t anything you could do. 

“We’re on lockdown here until we know more. I’m workin’ with Duck. Everything’ll be fine.” His voice was so calm, it was so like him, if you wanted to be with anyone in a crisis, it was Gibbs for this very reason.

“You know, you say that every time and it never makes me feel better.” You fully let go of the idea of rescue now, trying to wrap your mind around what you were going to occupy yourself with while you waited for more information from him which definitely wasn’t going to come now. You had to be just as strong as Gibbs was right now. 

“But every time it’s true, right?” Now you two were talking like there wasn’t a biohazardous emergency at hand. 

You tossed your head back and forth before teasing him. “99% of the time.” 

“What’s the 1%?” 

“When you forgot our anniversary. I’ll get a last minute reservation for tonight, everything’ll be fine.”  You mocked his famous words from that one forgotten anniversary. 

“I recall everything being more than fine that night.” The power he had to be making sexual innuendos to you in a moment like this. 

“We ate goldfish and whiskey for dinner.” And the power you had to continue the conversation just the same. 

“Wasn’t talking about the food.” 

After smiling to yourself over the quiet line, you brought the conversation back to the reason he called. “Call me with updates please.” 

“Yes, boss.” 

That earned him a bigger smile from you. Always did. It made you not want to hang up the phone yet even though you knew you were on a short timeline. “How’s Abby?”

“A working wreck.” His answer came quickly, and you could tell he was on the move now. 

“Me and her both.” You took a deep sigh. “I’m gonna be at the edge of my seat all day.” 

“Work on that brownie recipe. I’m gonna need one when I get home.”

Divider by @realitycanbewhateveridesire *ੈ✩‧₊˚ 🕵️ NCIS Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @ilovemark1951 @shamelessturtlebeliever (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

[abrunettefangirlnerd]

If You Love Her

Prompt: You are dating Rafe after JJ cheated on you... but you're still a member of the pogues. A party and the boneyard makes tensions rise between everyone.

Rafe POV

Her head rests against Rafe’s chest as they soak up the last bit of the sun lounging on the Druthers. It has been a rare peaceful day and Rafe is thanking whatever higher power there is that she has become his saving grace. He just hates the way that it happened.

               (Y/N) is originally a pogue, but it never mattered to Rafe no matter how hard he tried to deny it. Rafe never picked on her, only her friends. She became close with Sarah after saving whatever the latest sea creature was at the time. So she had been over a few times before Sarah started dating John B. Though it was the moment she stopped hiding behind the boys and found her voice, that Rafe has never stopped listening. He has been in a trance ever since. Her fire is what drew him in, but it is (Y/N)’s heart that melted his core. The only problem, she was JJ Maybank’s girl. “Was” being the operative word.

               Rafe will never forget her tear stricken face, red eyes, and piercing sob from that night. It took everything in him to not beat that punk to a pulp. Thinking about it even now gets Rafe all riled up. He hates that she is still around JJ, she never left the group. Rafe understands they are her friends, but he doesn’t like it.

“Come on,” (Y/N) stirs, still half asleep. “You promised we would go to the party.”

“Right, the boneyard party. With the pogues.”

“Hey, I’m a pogue.” (Y/N) angles her face to look up at his with a teasing smile.

“You’re my pogue.” Rafe smiles and leans down to place a kiss on her forehead.

               Yeah she is his pogue and he wouldn’t want it any other way. Any other party he would be excited to go. He loves parties with his girl, dancing the night away and playing drinking games. Tonight will be exactly like that, except he will have to see Maybank. I wonder if him and Kie have made it official yet, Rafe wonders to himself.

Your POV

               The music can be heard from a mile away in Rafe’s truck. My arm wraps around his as his hand gently squeezes my thigh. I know he doesn’t want to be here. He is doing it for me and I love that he is willing to entertain me for a few hours. I won’t make him stay long. I want him to see that my friends can be cool, and I hope one day they can put away their bad blood and get along.

Years of pent-up anger at both groups has been baking as long as I can remember. If it wasn’t for becoming secret friends with Sarah years before she joined the group, I may have the same outlook on Rafe as the others. Can he be a jerk and annoying as hell? Yes, but he can be sweet and at times my friends can be no better. Things between the kooks and the pogues have been quiet lately, but I know Rafe has it for JJ. I can’t blame him, I did too before I accepted that JJ deciding to cheat had nothing to do with me and everything to do with him. If I could have wished for anything that if JJ had to cheat, I would have chosen for him to cheat with anyone else but Kie. It makes the tension in the group that much thicker.

“Relax,” I giggle. “We’ll make an appearance. Stay an hour, two tops. Then we can go off on our own.”

               Rafe doesn’t say anything but I can see a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. His thumb lightly brushes against my skin and I sense him starting to relax a bit. I just hope that tonight ends up being drama free.

               The truck is parked and Rafe is on my side opening the door. I learned early on that I am not allowed out of the truck unless he opens my door for me. Made that mistake and he wouldn’t move from his spot till I got back in so he could do it properly. I thought it was annoying and egotistical, but now I find it sweet. JJ never did that for me when we were dating.

               There are a lot of things that Rafe does that JJ never did. Aside from the whole cheating part, JJ was a fairly good boyfriend. He looked after me, was a good cuddler, made sure I had a good time. Being with Rafe though is so different. Sure he does look after me, kind of always has. We have the best time when together and I feel so safe in his arms. I’m not worried about a pretty blonde catching his eye. He is a complete gentleman making sure I am okay, respecting boundaries, going slow, being open. Something I did not expect is for him to communicate as well as he does. I guess once he knew I wasn’t going anywhere and that his feelings don’t scare me, he trusts me enough to talk about all the crap with his dad and if he is feeling insecure. He never freaks or overreacts when I have an issue with something.

“Hey boys!” I greet John B and Pope at the keg. I notice a small release of air leave Rafe’s chest at the realization JJ isn’t around yet.

“(Y/N) what up! I miss you at the chateau.” John B goes in for a hug and Rafe lets go of my waist to accommodate. The two shake hands after John B releases me. It is a simple gesture to an outsider, but with these two it means everything. John B is practically my brother and with him dating Sarah, and Rafe dating me, they both are trying to put in an effort.

“Here you two go.” Pope hands me and Rafe cups of beer that we gladly take.

A few drinks later, we depart for a dance near the fire. The music pulsates through my veins mixed with the alcohol and a nice buzz fills my senses. Rafe loops his arms around my waist and I pair mine around his neck. We sway to our own beat, not minding the people jumping around us. We are lost in our own world and we are the only two people who exist.

               Rafe’s eyes peer into mine as we rest our foreheads against each other. His lids close and I do the same, focusing on his hold on me. Warmth swarms over my body originating from his touch. I can’t wrap it around my head that I am with Rafe Cameron and that he can make me feel like I’m on top of the world. I only hope I can make him feel the same, that is often one of my insecurities. One that Rafe knows about and tries to assure me that I am more than enough for him.

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Rafe whispers in my ear and places a kiss on the tip of my nose. I swear he can read my mind.

               Before I can say anything Rafe’s touch disappears from my body. I immediately open my eyes and find the back of a blonde standing between me and my boyfriend, JJ. The alcohol has me stumbling against the sand as I land against Rafe’s arm and he steadies me before putting my frame behind his. Always my protector.

               Rafe makes his stand but waits to see what JJ plans to do first. He knows that if he threw the first punch I would be mad. All I want is peace. Except I would not ask him to hold back if JJ started it first. He promised me, and so far he has kept his promise.

“You got the money, the job, and now the girl.” JJ’s words spread through the dry air, and people are beginning to take notice of a potential scuffle. Tears sting my eyes. Why is he making it sound like it is my fault I left him?

“Well Rafe if you plan on dating (Y/N) I want to fill you in on a few things.” JJ takes a step forward and I can feel Rafe’s muscles tense beneath my hands. JJ begins to speak but his gaze falls to me. “She always has trouble falling asleep, and she likes to cuddle while under the sheets.” JJ sends a wink my way and whistles from the accumulating audience fill the air. “She loves pop songs and dancing, and bad trash TV. There’s still a few other thin-“

“She loves love notes and babies,” Rafe interrupts. “And likes giving gifts. She has a hard time accepting a good complement. She loves her whole family and all of her friends… not that they deserve it.”

               I didn’t think it was possible for the air to get thicker than it has just now. JJ’s drunk eyes danced over me until Rafe unexpectedly interrupted. Both of our eyes cling to Rafe as he spoke but for two different reasons. My heart skips as Rafe reaches to grab my hand and gives it a light squeeze. I had no clue JJ was going to do something like this, but I am even more surprised at the fact Rafe has been paying attention this well. He continues to amaze me and all I want to do is kiss him.

“When she gives me her heart completely, I won’t break it like you did. (Y/N) is safe with me. I’ll stand by her side instead of sneaking off behind her back.” Rafe stares JJ down a few moments more before turning towards me.

His hands cup my cheeks and looks into my eyes silently asking if I’m okay. I nod to answer him and bring my hands up to rest against his wrists. Rafe places a soft but protective kiss against my forehead and whispers for us to go. Wrapping an arm around my shoulder, he pulls me in close and nods his head toward a stunned John B.

The walk to the car is silent. Rafe opens my door for me and waits for me to climb in before closing it. He quickly joins me in the driver’s seat but doesn’t start the car. Instead he turns towards me, he eyes furrowed as he contemplates what he is going to say.

“I’m sorry if I over stepped.” Rafe’s voice is a whisper. “I know you can handle yourself, but I couldn’t let him do that. Act like he still has claim over you, that he is the only one who can know you.”

“Hey, hey it’s okay. You did everything right.” I lean over and let my hand cup his cheek, bringing his gaze back to mine.

“I meant everything I said.” His beautiful orbs pierce mine. “I want you to know that. I’m in it for the long game. I love you (Y/N).”

               His voice cracks and I can tell how scared he is to say that last part. We’ve only been dating a month but we have known each other for years. Staying the night with Sarah has usually ended up with late night talks with Rafe after she fell asleep. We are the unlikely duo but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I trust you.” I say and my face heats up with my smile. “I love you, Rafe.”

               It takes a moment for the words to register in Rafe’s ears but once they do pure shock and adoration quickly take over his features. He leans in and gifts me with a soft but passionate kiss. All his love and vulnerability is wrapped in every movement he makes with me and I can already tell this is forever.

[watarfallar]

Anyone else stuck in the desert? Yes? Same. Have some incorrect quotes for our suffering.

Scar: That was a joke. Say ha. Grian: Ha. Scar: Now do it again. Grian: Ha. Scar: Congratulations, you are officially the life of the party.

Scar: Ayo, what the FUCK is this?!? Grian, sitting down, surrounded by corpses: I won Mafia, that’s what.

Scar: English is CRAZY. Oregano is both a spaghetti leaf topping and a form of paper art! Grian: What is this "paper art" you speak of? Scar: That shit where you make cranes and stuff out of folded paper! Grian: … Scar.

Grian: Last week, Scar tried to flush a live lobster down the toilet "because it worked for Nemo".

Grian: What are your three best qualities? Scar: I’m hot, I have soft hair, and sometimes I cry because I love my friends.

Grian: Don’t stay up all night, Scar. Last time you got this sleep-deprived, you tried to eat your own shirt.

Scar: I baked you a pie! Grian: Really?! What flavor? Scar: pulls gun out of the pie DEATH!

Scar: Why are we friends? Grian: Poor decisions on your part.

Grian: They couldn't find their way out of a paper bag. Scar: That's not true! I found my way out of a paper bag yesterday!

Scar: No, I don't want to talk about physics! I don't know anything about the laws of physics because they are hard and boring. I simply would like them to behave in a way that is most convenient to ME and MY LIFE! Is that really asking too much? Grian: Yes, as a matter of fact, it is! Scar: Well, guess what? Science is stupid bullshit!! Grian: You take that back!!! Scar: No. Magic is awesome. Science blows. The end.

Scar: Please could you go to the shop and get a carton of milk, if they have avacodos get six. Grian, coming back from the store with six cartons of milk: They had avacados!

Scar: Wow, I really think I would’ve gotten along with young Grian! Grian: I know. That’s why I decided to change everything about my life.

Grian: Wake up! The sun is shining! Scar: What do you want me to do, photosynthesis?

Grian: I never tell people off the bat that I'm gay. I wait. I wait until they say some homophobic shit and then I laugh and am like "you know I'm gay right?" and watch the look of terror on their face. Scar: Scar: I like you.

Scar: School sucks. Grian: I know, but you have to do it so you can get a job. Scar: What are jobs like? Grian: They suck.

Grian: Go fuck yourself. Scar: Come over here and fuck me yourself you coward!

Scar: I'll offer you some friendly advice- Grian: I don't want your advice. Scar: Well, then consider it unfriendly advice.

Grian: So, what are we doing? Scar: Wasting our lives. Grian: I meant for lunch…

Grian: Gatekeep, girlboss, and what's the other one again? Scar: There isn't another one. You're crazy. The entire fandom: GASLIGHT! IT'S GASLIGHT!

Grian: Do you think I’m ugly? Scar: It’s not about looks, Grian. What’s valuable is on the inside… Grian: Scar… Scar: For example, someone's heart. Grian: Aw… Stop it- Scar: It could be purchased for more than a million dollars, you know. Grian: Seriously, stop.

Grian: Ah ready for another fantastic day of being better than Scar.

Scar: Don’t trust everything you see on the internet. Grian: Pfft. What possibly nonsense could come from the internet? Oh. Did you know that the Earth is actually flat? Scar: Takes away Grian’s phone Yeah, that enough for you.

Scar: honk. Grian: WHAT. Scar: HONK. Grian: WHAT DOES HONK MEAN THIS TIME YOU WHIMSICAL PIECE OF SHIT?????

Scar: Might I make a suggestion you possibly won’t like? Grian: Do you make any other kind?

[sansaorgana]

Hey! I absolutely love your work and was wondering if you would be open to doing a John egan x reader but reader is really close with gales girl Marge and kinda takes care of her while the war is happening and neither of the guys know till they come back and release that Mabye reader moved across the street from Marge and how much she’s been helping Marge, I think it would be interesting to see a domestic and fluff relationship between the two girls and + the men being involved

hello, honey! 💘 thank you so much for your request 😘 it was a very interesting scenario, I love the idea of women helping each other in difficult times 💪🏻💪🏾 not gonna lie, though, I was so jealous of Marge while writing it 🤣 I'm a hopeless case when it comes to Buck, I swear 🙄

Nothing was easy when the boys were away. Handling everything on your own and worrying about your husband at the same time was driving you crazy. You could only imagine how the women left alone with their children had to feel like. You weren’t sure if you’d handle that.

Some women handled the new reality better, some had a more difficult time to adjust. Marge was one of them and as Bucky’s wife you felt responsible for her just like you knew that your husband felt responsible for her boyfriend. They were closest friends and you were aware that if it was Bucky who had stayed in The US, he would take care of Marge because she was important for Gale. But it wasn’t him here, it was you.

You had only met her a few times before John went to Europe but she was sweet and she had wanted you to remain friends like your men were. You would call each other every week and talk on the telephone, trying to cheer yourselves up. But when both of your men had found themselves in the POW camp, you noticed that Marge was getting worse.

You packed your bags and decided to move in with her for some time. She was living alone and spending her whole days worrying. You couldn’t let that happen.

“They are together there, darling,” you squeezed her hands in yours when you were sitting together on her couch. “Think about that, it’s quite lucky that they’re together even there,” you didn’t know how else to cheer her up.

“But God only knows how long they will be there…” She sniffled her tears back. “What if we never see them again? How do they treat them?”

“We can try to write them letters, how about that? I know that the Red Cross helps with delivering them. Maybe they will get ours,” you proposed and she nodded, hesitantly.

“You know, Gale asked me to marry him in his last letter before he went down,” she confessed and you gasped before hugging her tight.

“Oh, congratulations! Then you absolutely have to write to him! You can’t leave him waiting!” You encouraged her and she broke a smile.

“Of course I’m going to say yes.”

“Of course,” you winked at her. “You know, some part of me is less worried now when I know John’s in the camp. At least he doesn’t fly anymore,” you told her. “I only hope he behaves well there because you know what he’s like. If he acts up too much, they can hurt him.”

“I’m sure that my Gale is watching over him and doesn’t let him act stupid,” Marge squeezed your hand and you nodded. She was right. The boys were looking out for each other. Just like you and Marge.

A few weeks later you already decided to stay in the same town where Marge lived. There was a house down the road for sale and you decided to move in there. You knew that John wouldn’t get mad about it and he’d like to live closer to his friend, too. You were sure he’d follow Buck wherever he’d go so you just didn’t listen to your family telling you it was an impulsive decision. It was not. Marge needed you and you needed her.

In the meantime, Buck had his birthday in late December. Marge was very sad about it so you came up with an idea of baking him a cake and decorating it with candles. You invited a few close friends and took pictures of his birthday party to show him when he’s back. She wrote to him about it in a letter that she hoped the Red Cross would manage to deliver. You did the same thing in September 1944 when it was your husband’s birthday and then again in another December for Buck again. This time it was more sad, though, when you both realised that it was his second birthday in the POW camp already. You were slowly starting to lose hope to ever see your husband again, too. But you tried not to show it and be strong. For Marge.

In the letter you wrote to your husband, you mentioned that you moved closer to Marge and that you were looking after her. But you didn’t tell him everything because there were things that men would not understand. And there were things men should not know. You didn’t want them to worry even more but there were nights where both of you would just hug each other and cry. You tried to remain strong for her, to be the responsible one. But it was so difficult. You would let a few silent tears flow, trying to cheer her up although the words you were saying were not believable even to you.

“Germany is losing this war, Marge, we’re gonna see our boys again, soon,” you rubbed her back on those nights as you were sitting by the fireplace.

“What if they get rid of their prisoners? They’re not good people, they don’t respect the laws,” she sobbed.

And what could you answer? You felt the same, you were worried about the exact same thing on all the sleepless nights, clutching on the sheets and praying to all the gods above you to keep your men safe.

“It just won’t happen,” you told her as if you were a god yourself and you knew. But you didn’t, you couldn’t know. She chose to trust you because she desperately needed to be assured.

Sometimes you wished it had been you being held by her. Sometimes you felt weak, too. But you chose to look after her and you would not back out.

In the summer of 1945 they finally came back and you threw a small party at Marge’s house to greet the boys home. Everything had been arranged by just the two of you – flowers, decorations and food. You had lots of fun preparing it together, excitedly awaiting to see your men again.

Of course you feared they would be different now. They had spent so much time in that camp, there was no way they’d come back the same. But you promised each other to always be there for the other one; to help and support when needed. You were like family now.

At the first sight they seemed the same – except for the eyes, they were sadder now. But your John was still playful as he spun you around and rubbed his nose with yours. He made a few teasing comments and inappropriate jokes that would make Gale roll his eyes and sigh. Gale seemed to be the same as well – kind and charming as always, with only a few new scars on his cheeks that Marge kissed all over.

But you knew it was just an act. You knew because the way you behaved oh-so-normal around them was an act, too. You were smiling and joking around with your husband like in the old days, but in fact you just wanted to curl up in his arms and cry out all the ugly tears you had been holding inside for the past two years. 

When all the guests left, you helped Marge in the kitchen to wash the dishes before you and John would go home, too. You were talking with each other softly about some silly things when Gale and John entered the kitchen and leaned on the wall as they watched you.

“What is it, boys?” You asked them with a soft smile.

“Just admiring our wives, can’t we?” John winked at you and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“I’m not a wife yet,” Marge teased.

“Soon you will be!” You reminded her excitedly and she giggled.

“I’ll go to the garden to see if there aren’t any dishes there,” she told you and you nodded. Marge went outside and you went back to drying the plates with a cloth.

“Thank you,” you heard Gale’s voice behind you as you flinched.

“Gee, you scared me. For what, Buck?” You asked.

“You were taking care of her,” he looked into your eyes deeply and for the first time this evening you could see all the hurt and pain on his face that he had been trying to hide.

“It’s nothing, don’t even mention that,” you told him as your voice broke. “You were looking after my Bucky.”

“And he was looking after me. Every day,” Gale nodded and walked away from you as Marge entered the kitchen again with a few plates and glasses.

You glanced at your husband who went oddly silent. He only watched you with sad eyes and you realised there were things about that war they would not tell you nor Marge in a long time. Perhaps never.

You finished the dishes and said goodbye to Marge and Gale. They were not married yet so he was supposed to rent a place nearby for a few weeks until the wedding but on that night he wanted to stay with her and you couldn’t blame him. You waved at them for the one last time and took John’s hand to go back to your house.

You opened the door and turned the light on with a relaxed sigh.

“I hope you like it, John. I had to manage everything on my own,” you told him.

He had been in the house early in the morning after his arrival but soon after you had left for the party at Marge’s house.

“Yeah, I can see that. Some things need to be fixed,” he pointed out and you shook your head at him as he grinned widely and pulled you closer for a hug. “I will repair them, don’t you worry, sugar.”

“Good. But overall you like it, yes?” You bit on your lower lip.

“Of course I do. It’s beautiful. But I’d live with you in a tent by the river, you know that? Everything would be beautiful with you in it,” he leaned in to place a soft kiss upon your lips and you threw your hands around his neck. “You’ve been a brave girl. I know what you did for Marge,” he whispered.

“I’ve already told Buck that it’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not nothing,” John insisted. “I know how much it had to cost you. Taking care of her when you needed to be taken care of, too. I know,” he caressed your cheek gently. “I’ve been taking care of him. Yeah, he was the one to keep me out of trouble but I’ve made sacrifices for him that only I know about,” he confessed.

For a moment, you felt jealous of Buck Cleven.

“I guess we are just good friends,” you tried to make a lighthearted comment about it. “They’re very lucky to have us.”

“Mhm, incredibly lucky,” John chuckled and leaned in once again to rub your nose with his. “I missed you terribly. Every day and every night. I’m not as good with words as Buck is, I’ve never been the romantic type but I hope you know that I mean it. I love you,” he whispered and you cupped his face with a smile.

“Bucky, baby, I didn’t fall for you because you were a romantic or good with words anyway. I fell for you because you were my goof. My class clown,” you assured him. “And I missed you, I missed you, I missed you… Terribly. Awfully. Dreadfully,” you kept saying these words and laughing through the tears of joy as he laughed, too.

“Okay, enough, I get the picture,” he pecked your lips. “Your goof is back now,” he assured you and you caressed his hair with your fingertips.

“I’m glad,” you nodded. “But if my goof needs to be sad sometimes or wants me to hug him and tell him it’s going to be alright, I don’t want him to keep it a secret, alright? I’m here for you, baby, for better and for worse,” you promised.

Bucky pulled you even closer for a very tight hug as he hid his face in the crook of your neck, his moustache tickling your soft skin. You put your arms around him and squeezed him in a loving way.

“I’m grateful, sweetheart,” he whispered into your ear as he placed a small kiss on your cheek, “but now it’s time for you to be taken care of.”

MASTERLIST

[darlingofvalyria]

❝You don't think I can please you?❞

part 05 | we're really in it now, darling

chapter summary:

[ Everything comes ahead at a hedge maze because. . . hedge maze. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 4,517 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader, aemond x alys rivers

contains— angst, a lil smutty but no full whorishness, ya'll good - i should really put idiots in love as a tag shouldn't i - nsfw: grinding + some sexy, sexy second base lmao - no kingslayers, no rogues, no betas.

a/n— i hope ya'll forgive me. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You don't really know what you were expecting come Sunday. Once you started to 'ehh' 'hmmm' and 'maybe's your way through random moments with Helaena after the radio silence from Aemond— your best friend put her foot down.

"Fuck him," Helaena grumbled. "You've been going to Sunday dinners before he was even born, you are not backing down now."

 You snorted. "That's wildly inaccurate."

"Point still stands. Fuck. Him. You deserve my mother's tiramisu cake. He doesn't get to take that from you." Her eyes widen as if trying to instil her determination into your system via eye contact. "You are not going to let him take that from you."

You nodded. That's at least a point to pro you can stand by. Though she can't cook to save her life— Alicent's words, not yours — the woman sure can bake. It became therapeutic for her, she once said. How measuring ingredients and kneading dough to patiently folding cream after another kept her mind quiet and her hands busy.

"My faith strongly does not advise rage shooting, you know?" Alicent once hummed.

"Did you mean 'range' shooting?"

"Oh?" she nodded absentmindedly, smiling. "Yes, that too."

"That's true," you mused. Tiramisu cake was her mother's specialty. Every Sunday, she has all attendees pack up at least one cake per person and you and Hel usually stave off bites throughout the week until the next Sunday comes.  "I deserve some tiramisu cake, gods be damned it."

"Plus, if you come with me, we'll get two cakes to take home instead of one." She wagged her finger. "We count as two separate entities with one fridge, it's our greatest privilege."

"Daeron calls it preferential treatment."

"I am her only daughter, of course I get preferential treatment."

"As you should, bestie."

Even when you've stopped struggling with choosing if you were going or not, your mind is never faraway from thinking about Aemond. You wonder if he's finally gotten back with Alys was a bad train of thought, while an even worse train of thought is how soft his lips were and how he holds your hair to pull you close when his tongue glides across your bottom lip.

You blink, shaken from the thought. Bad. Bad brain. Stop it.

And repeat. At this point, it was safer to think about Alys and Aemond.

According to previous cycles, by this point they'd be at the height of their newly blossomed relationship— all sweet kisses and heated looks, unable to stop touching each other much less act a little bit better when they're trying to leave a group function to fuck their brains out — so you wouldn't be surprised to see come Sunday that he arrives with Alys— both of them tall, gorgeous with just enough undertone of smirky, smarmy tension that would make you want to stab your own eye out — pointedly ignoring you or whatever happened between you and him.

It hurt to think about sure, but what else did you think was going to happen?

That call made a space the size of a puddle that turned into a lake, welled deep with unresolved feelings and untouched topics. More questions than answers, drawing lines both of you were too scared to tug and see.

It's big enough to notice, and both stubborn enough not to anything about it.

You tried. Well, you almost did. In the weird hours of the day when your brain and body are more physically disjointed so rationality gives way to adrenaline. Most of the time, this is during working hours. You, checking your phone, running around his profile with your thumb a few times, biting your lip as your mind blanks and your body fights to call him. Or leave a message.

Before your mind and body reconnects and you fling your phone as far away from you as possible.

It's weird. You've never fought with Aemond before. If this was considered fighting. You've been disappointed in him, gotten angry and annoyed with him, but someone always, always offers an olive branch.

Every time you think about that call, you close up, your annoyance flares, and you shove your phone away.

In your amicable defense, this was primarily his problem. You weren't truly dating. He made it clear every choice he was making was en toward the agreed conditions were of making his ex jealous enough to take him back, yada yada yada.

Even if, possibly, you wanted more, he made no actual steps to make it known that he was considering it too.

Funny stares on your lips don't count. The only sabbatical from sexual adventures Aemond got were the breakup round with Alys, and as established before, they got it on pretty frequently.

Another thought bubble about Aemond's lips pops in your head, the mint from his toothpaste and the coffee from his black with no sugar, no milk, the way he seemed to suckle on your sighs—

Gods. Damn. It.

Focus.

That last call?

You're a grown ass woman. You're allowed to do whatever you want with whomever you want, and you're not going to make Aemond Targaryen's steely silence of what— disappointment? Of your choices? Of your choice in Cregan Stark and Cregan Stark Jr? Of what you were doing? Sure he was faithful to the Seven, a good old religious boy raised by his momma, but it doesn't make him a saint. Just because he's clinging to the vestiges of first love thinking it could very well be his last doesn't make him holy, or warrant enough to judge you for getting your little you some good dick.

Life is hard. Good dick is hard to come by!

So. Yeah. Days leading up to Sunday was radio silence and way too many thoughts circling your head like vultures, eating away at logic and rationality, and stubbornly still, you refused to make contact. If it's not out of pride, it's out of hurt.

Because he could apologise, but Aemond wasn't known for his apologies.

But then you remembered the flowers, the tulips, and now you just felt sad. Moping, getting annoyed, and trying to get through work without breaking your phone speeds the week in a blur.

Come Sunday afternoon, Helaena was coming to pick you up from her shift at the vet— the beauty of having a vet bff is the Russian roulette of pictures; you never know if you're about to get cuddly new patients with big, sad eyes and pouty snouts or her newest c-section win without any attempts of a blur — so you could get to her mother's house together, you decided to go for the nines with your outfit.

A sweet summer dress later, some gold gladiator sandals half off from your favourite but largely can't afford shoe boutique that you swear you were always going to wear to make up for the insane price (thank the gods Alicent didn't have a no shoe policy because it takes fifteen minutes to get them on and you cannot be on the floor, on her house, with Aemond around, rolling around like a hot potato on the entry way trying to get a fucking shoe on), dusted and prepped in you're fancier version of makeup, and was just finishing off your hair— using the good mousse whilst blaring Disney epics — when knocking came.

You freeze.

On one hand, it could just be Helaena, forgetting her keys again somewhere as she had done so numerous times before, but there hadn't been a slew of expletives or her impression of a cool, clinical voice saying, ''Tis I, the Stranger, have come for thee soul! Open up I gotta pee, woman!' so you got a pretty good guess on the alternative, sending your heart into a stutter and get smacked with a well deep of yearning.

You miss Aemond. You miss hanging out with him, even just having him on video call whilst you prepped a late dinner and he's working out his thesis defense, too late for either of you, but catching another's eye in the tiny phone and sharing a comforted grin. You miss being called my lady in a language that means so much to him, miss bumping shoulders and smelling his crisp scent of cologne and laundry.

Miss his lips, his very soft, very delicious lips—

"Gods damnit, woman, keep it together," you murmur to yourself. Another series of knocks, ever patient, and you're moved by body not mind as breathless giddiness yanks the door open—

Only to fall flat.

"Oh." You can't hide your disappointment at the curly blond with the smirk for centuries. "Aegon. I didn't know it was you."

"Yes, the expressive disappointment in your eyes could bring a man on the edge to his downfall, I must say," he jokes hoarsely, a little hurt. "Not even a hi Aeg. I've missed you Aeg, or— hey Aeg! You look good enough to eat!"

It's Aegon. Not Aemond. Or Helaena. Helaena and Aemond's older brother, Aegon. Party rocking, cocaine hiding, sweat and someone's lipstick smelling Aegon. You like him despite his whorishness because he's funny, because he's sweet when he wants to be, and he always, always gets you a funny mug when he comes back from wherever he came from.

You blink a couple of times, laughing awkwardly as you give him a quick hug. He still smells the same, with the lightest tint of sun in him from his days at the beach not so long ago no doubt.

"Sorry, sorry. Hi Aeg, I've missed you Aeg, and yes, you do look good enough to eat, Aeg."

He hugs back tighter, smothering you in the denim jacket he's wearing and the curly edge of his white blond hair. He's got a new piercing and smells of new perfume.

"So do you, princess," he says as you step back and he appraises you appreciatively. "Those shoes can step on me any time."

"I will never."

"You will never," he says chirpily, moving back with a teasing grin. "Let me guess, you were waiting for my uglier version to come by and got too overwhelmed by the majesticness of me."

'"Majesticness isn't even a word." You snort. "And Aemond is not your uglier version, you don't look that alike."

He raises an eyebrow as you blink. Fuck. "Dear me oh my, I meant Helaena, babe. When did Aemond get into the mix?"

You shove his shoulder, huffing as you pick up your keys and bag, forcing him to step back as you lock the apartment, trying to give yourself grace from his burning, teasing stare. "As if Helaena didn't tell you." You finally turn to him, lips pursed at his faux innocent pout. "Helaena tells you everything."

"She might have mentioned a thing or two about a thing or two." He bumps your hip as you both get into the elevator. "Imagine my surprise when Lae-lae tells me of a wondrous development between her two favourite people that involved a breakup, some gift-giving shenanigans, and kissing." He gasps dramatically as you groaned. "I leave for what— a month or two and suddenly you and Aemond are making out? Babe, I must say, you're doing the tongue tango with the wrong brother."

 "He's not the wrong brother, also the tongue tango? Really?" you snap suddenly. The wrong brother comments always irk you because you understand that it's a sensitive issue to Aemond, as well as Aegon himself.

But it's a bait you realise too late because Aegon Targaryen enjoys hauling truths from people in steps and tricks, uncaring if he takes a stab or two to get there as you meet his gaze against the reflective wall, positively smirking.

"Really now?"

"Why are you even picking me up? I thought you were in Oldtown."

"Already sorted. Hel wanted to make sure you get there in time, she's going to be late... After all your earlier ride backed out didn't he?"

Your mouth pursed, annoyance prickling at your edges as the elevator pulled into the lobby. "I don't want to talk about it, where's your car?"

He whistles, languid and all the time in the world on his shoulders with just the hint of smug. "It's a thirty minute ride, babe, you're going to spill."

You shoot him a withering glare. "Not if I have say in it." For emphasis, you yank his door and slam it. Fuck his new Maserati.

"Mature!"

Thirty minutes is more than ample time for Aegon Targaryen to weed his way into your brain like the worst case of earworm (like a stupid ass commercial jingle that just. Won't. Stop) that by the time you reach his mother's, you were ranting.

"—like I get it, saying I'm going out with another guy to get some good dick after confirming that we're going to your mother's for Sunday as a date is bad, but we're not really dating! He said so himself! He pressed the issue of it not being a real thing! And he didn't attempt any—"

"— any communication at all," Aegon echoes, stretching his legs as he stood. "Not a sorry or anything."

"Anything!" you bolster, slamming his door again that is less about him and more about the aggressiveness. "I know that he's bad at apologising, or facing things that are hard, choosing to stew in it and act all shitty to people, I just... I thought he'd at least tell me. Doesn't that warrant our friendship?"

"Hm. Ever think that's precisely why he struggles with you?"

"What does that even mean?"

"That he cares about you, so he struggles more with expressing himself."

You turn to him, cocking your head. "When did you get so wise, oh Gandalf?"

"A Seven focused rehab facility can do that to you," he muses wistfully. "There was this nun that says verses when she orgasms."

You make a face. "Love the fun fact."

"You're welcome. But back to point, isn't the issue also the fact that you never tried to make contact with him either?"

"Well. Yeah. Because..."

Aegon squints at you sympathetically. "Because you're scared of rocking the boat because of how much you like him?"

"Not, well," you hesitate. "Not like that precisely..."

"How much you're capable of liking him?" Aegon smiles wryly. "You had a crush on him, I remembered that at least. When Hel first introduced you to him, you couldn't stop teasing him until he lit up like a Christmas tree. I knew you liked him since then. You called him pretty half the time, and I started to realise it was less about his reaction but how you actually see him, and speaking as the naturally cherub, pretty boy of the family, I find this highly, highly offensive."

You pinch his cheeks, wounding your arm over his shoulder. Aegon was built like a linebacker with less muscles that aren't postern, with wide shoulders and a strong body that's too easy to lean against.

"You're pretty too, Aeg," you coo. "But he's just..."

 "If you say ethereal, I will vomit right in my mother's petunias." He makes a face. "How about this. The problem is that you think Aemond doesn't like you back."

You frown at him. "I know Aemond doesn't like me back."

"Oh, sweetie," Aegon coos, sympathy and pity swirling in his smug, smug smile. "I'm so glad you're pretty."

You pinch his sides until he squirms. "Fuck you, what the hell?"

"What I'm saying is, let's test that, you know? Because that's the only variable you aren't sure with?"

You sigh. "Aeg, even if he does, I'm not going to pounce—"

The door swings open, and there he is, of pretty boy face and good boy posture because his mother raised herself a good, devout boy who doesn't know what a slouch is because he's not an ape— and is he wearing his leather jacket? Of course he's wearing the leather jacket and you know that smell, that spiced cologne with the leather and his natural scent and fuck, Aemond is looking at you, looking at his brother, and the open expression, the shock, that smidge of relief— shutters to an icy politeness.

Aegon because he's Aegon, pulls you closer, his mouth curling into a grin that only says trouble, forcing Aemond to straighten up his already perfect posture in preparation for whatever his brother has in mind and his stare is white-hot on the conjoined appendages between you and his brother— and Aegon lands a wet, smacking kiss on your cheekbone.

"Had to pick up your girl, baby bro, I mean what kind of—" his blue gaze finds his mother descending the stairs, peering out to see on who it was, and you're frozen, waiting for the bomb to drop and simultaneously unprepared for it, "— boyfriend has his brother pick up his girl? Good thing you got a good excuse, huh? Oh, hey mother dearest! Your favourite son has come back!"

As Aegon leaves your side with a cheeky little wink, you bit your lip at the frosty look on his face that makes you feel like an absolute idiot and fills you with rage all in one go. Because Aemond has never looked at you like that, like you were at fault and acting like a child, but that you also want to jut a finger against his chest.

"Did you have a nice talk with him on the drive over?" he says, jaw hard.

"I didn't tell him," you hiss, taking the hem of his leather jacket instead of his hands enough so you can pretend to kiss his cheeks because his mother is right there, eyes wide at that two of you as Aegon gave you a discreet thumbs up.

"Helaena did. Get over yourself, your mother's—"

 "Aemond?"

As he freezes and Alicent calls your name, you plaster the best smile you can make as you twine your fingertips with his.

"Smile."

"Hm."

When you leave his side to greet Alicent, you make sure to stomp on his stupid shoes.

As soon as you've finished your mandatory greetings— even with Otto Hightower, Aemond's grandfather, who merely raised his eyebrows at the apparent new status of you and his grandson, Alicent having to blink multiple times, wrangling positives as she kept shooting her son looks while he stood like a block of ice behind you — Aemond takes your hand by his own volition, tangles your fingers too tight, and starts tugging you along like a bouy.

"Are you a child?" you hiss, trying to pry your hand as insistently without outright yanking, Alicent already sending you both concerned looks at a news that she called 'oh, that is wonderful!'

"I am younger than you," he murmurs back, holding you tight.

"Oh, fuck you."

With a defeated huff, you take longer, heavier strides and stomps so you're the one dragging him.

It's all illusion of control built on pettiness because you're still being navigated, it's more just pride at this point, but you don't care, and when he scoffs right back, you felt at least a pinch of a win.

And then he, of course, matches your strides so fucking easily.

"Freaking horse-legged motherfucker," you mumble. You don't know if he catches it, or you're imaging the soft, surprised noise that's both a snort and a laugh.

He winds you around the hallway, an unbreakable trajectory to the backyard, dragging you past an easy eye view from the dramatic, floor to ceiling windows and trespassing straight into the hedge maze because of course they had one of those.

"Really? Here?"

"Do you want to be ogled up by my mother?" he says in a nauseatingly chipper voice. "Is that what you and Aegon are planning with all this, hm?"

You twist out of his grip, walking deeper on your own until your eyes are swallowed by the darkness. When you turn to him, your eyes adjust, only seeing the silver of his hair, so different from his black leather jacket and dark green jumper. You don't see his expression or his sharp gaze.

"Planned this? Seriously? Nothing since coming here had been planned, Aemond," your voice has bite and if your eyes had adjusted faster, or if you could see better, you would see the flinch he makes, "if it had been, this certainly would be the last of my fucking choices. Or do I have to remind you of the fact that we were supposed to go together? Oh right, things change when you drop a call out of fucking nowhere!"

"I—fuck." He moves around, a hand through his hair as exhales in frustration. "I didn't... think you'd want to go with me. That Sunday plans had been cancelled."

"And you didn't think to message? I mean it's not like we're friends in literally every social media." You try not to sound hurt before taking a deep breath, offering your palms up. "I didn't—don't even know what the issue is, Aemond. Were you so offended that I was sexually active that you just had to rudely drop the call and not talk—"

It's maybe the darkness, or intuition but you can bet half yours savings that Aemond Targaryen is blushing.

"It... gods, no it's not... I wasn't offended that you were sexually active," he says softly, evenly. He clears his throat. "I don't... mind that you're... sexually active. I actively... support it. Even." He coughs. Swallows. Curses.

If you don't feel like your heart is pounding in your throat you would have laughed. You had never seen the boy this flustered before that it's affecting his words, because Aemond has always been the most well spoken person you know.

"Is it about Cregan? Do you have something against Cregan?"

His eye flutter close. "No... and yes."

"I don't understand, Aemy," you whisper, defeated.

He sighs. In the dark, you notice a movement. His hands flex. It's a habit he's had since you've known him. It's instinct. The way you reach out, finding a piece of his leather jacket until you find your way to his hands, running your fingers over the bones and ridges, his sinew and skin. There are callouses from his fencing, running your thumb over his knuckles.

He's frozen first before he sighs, melting through the warmth you share with him.

 "I have nothing against Stark," he finally says. "It's the fact that you were still having sex with him that I found unfair." He steps closer until you can see his face better, the struggle in him can be told through the furrow in his brows and the press of his pillowy lips, red and wet as if he had bitten through it. "I... understand that we're not really together, but I couldn't... not feel as if it wasn't right. As if I wanted it to be me."

His hands finds your arms, eye closing and gently placing his forehead against your own. At first you panic, your body trying to make your brain decide do you like this or not but it's Aemond, and he's warm, gentle, sweet almost. It's familiar and new at the same time. It's warmth you recognise, skin you will know anywhere, but in a way that you've never felt him before.

You close your eyes and breathe with him.

You know that this is rare. That this Aemond is reserved for people he loves and cares about, but with his forehead against yours, with his hands holding you steady, rubbing a comforting thumb over your skin that felt just as for him as it was for you, breathing you in and exhaling you out. A single breath between two bodies.

"I don't know if I can agree to that, Aemy."

"What?" He pulls back, hurt pulling taunt your favourite pair of lips. "Do you like Cregan more? You don't think I can please you?"

"That's not—"

His hands closes on your face, cupping it in his palms as you stare, wide-eyed at the blue fire lit up in his eye. His breath brushes your lips, making them tingle.

"Push me away if you don't want it," he says before his eye closes and he takes your mouth against his own, swallowing your gasp then pulling you away again, eye glinting.

"Push me away, ñuha riña." His voice is so soft, words crisp while your body thrummed in a single, frantic heartbeat. When you don't move, too shock, thoughts tangled, he smirks.

With his teeth, he captures your bottom lip, grazing it. When he feels you shudder, eyes fluttering, he chuckles meanly.

"Push me away as if you don't want me." He tilts your chin up as he looks down on you, eye confident in its lust. His thumb brushes your bottom lip. "As if you don't feel everything I do."

"Fuck you," you manage to exhale as you grab the back of his head and devour him just as you did at the restaurant. He groans, using his other hand to feel your side, pass your one breast, giving it a firm squeeze that makes you gasp, tongue clashing, legs tangling as you push and push and he pulls you to him, his back hitting the prickly hedge. It's teeth and tongue, breaths twisted in one air as you used each other like lifelines, like enemies in a swords match.

It's feverish and passion, infuriating want that gives. Because when you dominate the kiss, tangling his tongue with your own, yanking him down and down as if you want him to reach every part of you inside, he bends and follows. And when he pulls you, tangles your hair and takes every gasp and breath, you surrender.

He groans when you suck on his bottom lip, pulling away just enough to spit out, "You taste so much better than my dreams." His mouth moves down and down, leaving a path of heat as he suckles at your neck, practically ripping the buttons of the top of your dress as he slides down and grunts in pain.

"A-Aemy?" Your eyes flutter. "Your back, shit—"

"Fuck that." He tugs you down until you land with an oomph! on his lap, your chest at his eye level before he drags them back to your gaze. "Tell me to stop."

You shake your head, tangling your fingers in his hair. "No."

"Good."

Your back arches, supported in his hold, as he starts sucking the skin lower and lower, another hand massaging your tit that pools hot down your core until his hand, warm and solid, sinew and bone, and Aemond Aemond Aemond, slides between your bra and cups your breast and his hand is so big, and it feels so good that you start grinding on the hard length you feel right at your—

An ear-splitting shriek freezes the both of you. You and Aemond pull back, hand still on your tit.

"Wha—"

"Ew, ew, ew! Mom said you were fighting! FIGHTING DOES NOT EQUATE FUCKING IN THE MAZE, YOU FUCKING CLICHES!"

TAGGED: @snowprincesa1 @gemini-mama @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr @astroswift @queenofshinigamis @helaenaluvr @kaetastic @jxdegodfrey @laniii-on-your-left @watercolorskyy @microwaveallthedemons @kazuyatokue @herfantastyworldd @averyyreads @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bellstwd @jiminie-08 @ttkttt @nockerin @backyardfolklore @random-ocity @hc-geralt-23 @vendettasblog @cicaspair418 @malynn @anehkael @schadenfreude-and-sarcasm

[fluentmoviequoter]

hi hanna! since your requests are open, i was wondering if i could request a deacon fic where he comes home late from work one night. and when he comes home, he hears music coming from the kitchen, and when he walks in the kitchen, he sees wife!reader in the kitchen baking cookies (maybe she couldn’t sleep, so that’s why she’s baking late at night) and she’s singing and dancing while she’s baking them too! and then while her cookies are in the oven baking, her and deacon end up slow dancing in the kitchen with each other!🥰

Hi, Rachel! I love this idea so much!! I'm sorry it's short but I hope you like it!🫶🏼

0.5k+ words of pure fluff and the king of country music

Just Want to Dance With You

Deacon sighs as he unlocks the front door. You’re not there to greet him, but Deacon’s smile grows when he hears music playing in the kitchen. Deacon follows the soothing melody, intermixed with the quiet sounds of pans moving and your soft singing, until he reaches the doorway. Deacon leans against the counter as he watches you dance to the music while evenly spacing homemade cookie dough on a pan.

It's late, and while Deacon feels bad about not being home when he was supposed to be, he’s happy to see you. Even if you should be asleep. After you place the pan in the preheated oven, you turn in time with the music.

When you see Deacon, you stop. Smiling, you beckon him closer.

“What are you doing up?” he asks softly, as if speaking too loudly will shatter the moment.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admit, wrapping your arms over his shoulders.

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. How are you?”

Deacon’s eyes flutter closed as you brush your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck.

“Better now,” he admits, pulling you closer by your waist. “Dance with me?”

“Forever.”

Deacon opens his eyes and smiles as he reaches for your phone. Lifting it from the counter, he finds a song. As the music begins, he lifts his arm and twirls you. Against Deacon’s chest, you look up at your husband and smile.

The sound of George Strait’s I Just Want to Dance With You fills your home as everything else fades away. Dancing with Deacon has been one of your favorite things to do since you first met, and since getting married, it serves as a reminder of the love you share and your past together.

“I got a feeling that you have a heart like mine,” Deacon sings. “So let is show, let it shine. If we have a chance to make one heart of two, Then I just want to dance with you.”

“How are you really?” you whisper.

“We’re all okay,” Deacon assures you. “Hicks needed a team on standby while the fugitive squad served a warrant. We spent the night at the station. What about you? How are you really?”

“Well, I’m dancing with my husband, who I love more than the cookies in the oven, so I’m doing pretty well. Thanks for asking.”

Deacon smiles and spins you around the kitchen before he dips you. His lips brush against yours, then he pulls you upright, cups your cheeks, and kisses you as if it’s the first and last time.

“I love you,” you say against his lips.

“I love you,” he replies. “More than the cookies in the oven.”

“We’ve gotten better at dancing since our first date.”

Deacon laughs at the reminder of when he tried to dip you but slipped and fell with you. “We’ve gotten better at everything, I think.”

“I agree. We’re great.”

“George was right,” Deacon muses. “Holding you in my arms is what they intended dancing for.”

“I’m glad you’re home. And in time for cookies.”

“I’ll always come home to you,” Deacon promises. He holds you close, swaying around the kitchen with nothing on his mind but you. When the smell of cookies spreads throughout the house, he might think about that, too. But mostly you.

[violettwrites]

new kid — tp!daryl

a/n: hi besties !!! i hope you enjoy the little backstory on our fave duo 😌 if there’s anything you’d like me to write about these two, just let me know ! i’m also working on some tp!trio stuff including merle bcos those three are just chaotic.

if you enjoyed this, please like, reblog, and/or comment !

you can find my ask box here — which is open for requests !

summary: reader (11) moves into yet another place in another town, and isn’t exactly thrilled about it. that’s until they meet the quiet kid in the park.

warnings: allusions towards/mentions of abuse

word count: 1,166

resources: divider by @adornedwithlight

➸ tp!daryl masterlist

➸ regular masterlist

it was mid june when you first met daryl dixon.

your father had just pulled his old pickup into the trailer park, kicking up a cloud of dust that hung in the air long after the engine had shut off. you stared out the window, eyes scanning the rows of faded, sun-baked trailers, each one looking as old as the next. your dad, already in a foul mood, grumbled something about going inside and “not making a fuss.” you knew better than to argue with him.

you had just moved here. not that it was much different from the last place. same kind of peeling paint, sagging porches, and rusted cars that never seemed to run. but little did you know, this trailer park would have one difference.

you didn’t know him yet, but you saw him the moment you stepped out of the truck. he was sitting on the steps of the trailer not too far away from yours, his small frame slouched like he was trying to disappear into the wood behind him. his hair was dirty blonde, a little too long, falling into his eyes. and his clothes were dirt streaked and a couple sizes too big for him. he looked like he hadn’t had a good meal or heard a kind word in a long time.

your dad noticed him too, but all he did was grunt. “tha’s will’s kid,” he muttered, spitting on the ground and making you grimace at the action. “stay clear of him. ain’t no good come outta that family.” you frowned, because as far as you knew, your father and will were friends. he was the reason your dad knew about this place.

you didn’t say anything, turning on your heel to make your way into the trailer. your new home for however long your dad could keep a job, or not piss off the park owners and get kicked out. it had been like that your entire life. and you were just a burden on his back— someone he had to feed and provide a roof over their head.

it had always just been the two of you. you didn’t know much about your mother— sure you remembered her a little bit. she stuck around until you were about four, but then she had run off with someone else. someone who had more money. someone nicer.

according to your father, she had always been selfish like that.

later that afternoon, while your dad was off drinking with some of the other men that lived in the park, you wandered out. you kicked at a rock as you walked along the dirt road in the park, feeling the dry heat against your skin. the kind of heat that made everything feel like it was moving slower. you saw daryl again, this time sitting by the edge of the lot.

without thinking too much about it, you walked over. he didn’t say anything when you stopped just a few feet from him, he just stared at you through a tangle of hair.

“hey,” you said, trying to sound casual, though your anxiety caught the best of you and your voice wavered.

daryl didn’t say anything, his eyes darting away like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to look at you.

you kicked the dirt again, feeling a little awkward but not wanting to leave. you looked back up at him, a small frown on your lips. “i’m (y/n),” you said, hoping to get something out of him.

“daryl,” he replied, finally glancing up at you. his blue eyes were sharp, like they saw more than they let on.

you nodded, not sure what else to say. you knew that look. you saw it in the mirror sometimes — the kind of look kids get when they’re used to keeping their heads down, used to trying to stay out the way.

“i think your dad is friends with mine,” you stated, hands shoved into the back pockets of your shorts, rocking on your heels.

daryl flinched— just the slightest twitch of his shoulder, but you saw it. he didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need him to. you could tell what his life was like. his dad, will, and your dad — they were all the same. angry men with heavy fists and loud voices. men you had to learn to survive around.

after a long silence, daryl finally spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. “yeah. he is.”

you didn’t push. you knew that was enough for now. instead, you sat down on the ground next to him, the dust covering the back of your legs. daryl didn’t move, but you could tell he wasn’t as tense as before. the two of you sat there in silence for what felt like hours, the sun slowly dipping behind the trees, casting long shadows across the trailer park.

as the sky started to turn orange, you finally broke the silence that enveloped the both of you. “you wanna hang out tomorrow?”

daryl glanced at you, his brow furrowed in confusion, wondering why you would want to hang out with him. “why?”

you shrugged, picking at the hem of your shirt. “i dunno. ain’t got nobody else to talk to.” you looked at him, meeting those sharp blue eyes again.

he didn’t answer right away, but eventually, he nodded. “yeah. okay.”

that’s how it started. you and daryl weren’t the kind of kids who needed a lot of words, but it seems like you needed each other. you spent a lot of your days wandering the woods behind the park, throwing rocks at tin cans, and sitting by the creek when you wanted to escape the heat. you talked about your families a lot, but not your fathers. it was obvious what fathers who drank to much did, who hurt too much, who left scars deeper than anyone could see.

he’d talk about his older brother, merle, a lot. and you’d grimace at a lot of the things merle seemed to do. you were yet to meet him, but you weren’t exactly sure if you wanted to.

as the years went by, daryl became more than just a friend. he was your escape, your reason to keep going. you knew he felt the same, even if he didn’t say it out loud for a long time. you had each other’s backs in a world that seemed determined to keep you down, and that was enough.

even on the worst days, when your father’s temper flared and you were too scared to go home, daryl would be there, waiting by the tree line, ready to disappear into the woods with you. and when his old man came around looking for trouble, you’d do the same for him.

and though merle constantly teased the both of you, calling you names like lovebirds, you felt a little sense of security with your newfound family. it wasn’t picture perfect, but it mattered to you.

[britcision]

Hey by the way I found a totally bangin banana oatmeal cookie recipe last week to dispose of my bananas because I do not have the energy for banana bread

The Ingredients:

3 bananas

2 tbsp honey

1 egg

1 tsp vanilla

1 1/2 cups quick cooking oats

1 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp fine sea salt (half if you’re using iodized salt)

1/2 cup random mix ins go nuts

The Process:

Preheat to 350

Mush bananas, mix with honey and egg

Add Everything Else except the mix ins and mix

Add mix ins

Cookie tray and bake it sluts

And now. There was some debate in the comments, if this was a cake or a cookie because of the texture

Look at those ingredients again my friends

Ain’t no goddamn flour there

Anyway we made them with skor bits and butterscotch chips and a honkin’ glob of dulce de leche in the middle like a thumbprint because fuck your health cookie that is not what I came for

And lemme tell you right now, we ground half the oats down to oat flour because I already had Concerns about texture

And friends

Friendos

Gang

These aren’t a cookie. They aren’t a cake. They’re a fucking pudding. I cooked them little fuckers til they set solid on the top, half of ‘em with did without the dulce in case it was too sweet (it wasn’t they needed the dulce), they browned all lovely and golden on the bottom

And we let them fully cool and put them in containers and they are the Stickiest Wettest Thing I Ever Ate With My Hands

(Well that’s a lie this one time my friend and I ate a fantastic miso noodle soup with our fingers in the back of a car and no I don’t mean “poured cup into mouth”)

They’re freaking incredible don’t get me wrong but these things never fully solidified and I genuinely can’t imagine the unground oat version is more solid

They’re delicious and I’m making more ASAP with fancy cinnamon honey because I’m Extra and the honey was cheap and we had a stressful day, but we’re adding some normal goddamn flour because I need these things to solidify and not leave smears on everything

Also slightly stale skor bits melt sooooo much better than fresh skor bits enjoy this nugget of wisdom