#also he mixes up the forks

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

My dads not back meaning I have to put away the dishes which means I can put them away correctly for once

[yunyin]

Leek and Potato Soup

So bit random but I really like this soup (just made/ate it again) and I thought I would share just in case anyone else wants to give it a try!

The most tedious part is washing the leeks but it's worth it imo.

Written recipe: https://www.food.com/recipe/potage-parmentier-potato-leek-soup-julia-child-270731

This guy makes some pretty fun cooking videos, too!

[seventh-district]

in other news i cannot stop fucking listening to Brokenheartsville by Joe Nichols and i’m starting to annoy myself with it but. i cannot stop. it’s too good

[lamaery]

Looking for a stormy or colorful summer beach read? @priscellie and Ihad way too much fun creating some romance novel versions of Rhythm of War and Warbreaker. I made the illustrations and Priscillie made them look like actual books – beautifully ridiculous, curly typography, mock-up and all. I hope that there will be more :D

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

Image description: (by Priscillie) Photomanipulation of two battered paperback pulp romance novels that look straight out of a thrift store bargain bin in the 1980s. The books are RHYTHM OF WAR and WARBREAKER by Sandra Branderson. RHYTHM OF WAR features an illustration of Navani and Raboniel experimenting with light, Raboniel looming behind Navani and leaning in, their faces almost touching. Raboniel streams voidlight from her image-left hand, which travels like lightning through Navani's tuning fork and into the sphere in Navani's gloved safehand. It's the primary source of light in the scene, and the background is nothing but murky darkness. Raboniel focuses intently, her red eyes alien and unknowable, as she focuses on her work. One of Navani's unkempt locks of hair just brushes the corner of Raboniel's mouth, and I'm not normal about it. Navani looks like she's gone three days without changing clothes and that she's slept in her hairstyle a similar number of nights. The collar of her havah is open, revealing her collarbones. Her expression is a mix of amazement, fear, and exhaustion, her mouth slightly open and her head tilted back slightly. Her face is lit from below by their experiment. The title and author's name are angled at a sharp diagonal, with strong capital letters and the occasional flourish. At the top is the tagline "In the Heart of War... Passion and Honor are Fused!" In one corner is some publication information, with a little logo of a seal and the words "A 'Sealed With a Kiss' Paperback," the fake ISBN 17S-631-1123-1210 (the last two sets of numbers being our birthdays), and prices in America and Canada. The other book is Warbreaker, also by Sandra Branderson. The illustration depicts Susebron and Siri in a ridiculously overblown, windswept Fabio-style cover, with a shirtless Susebron holding Siri so she's half sitting on his chest, one knee up with her thigh along his chest, her legs off to one side, and with her body twisted so she's facing him with her upper body, leaning down to him, a breath away from kissing him. She's wearing a teal dress with a Mesoamerican vibe that reveals her midriff and leaves her shoulders bare, but with a long train that blows off to the side. Her arms are painted in looping gold shapes. Her hair is blonde for most of its length, but it's beginning to change to a vivid red at the scalp. It's wrapped in teal ribbon to match her dress. Susebron has long, sleek black hair caught by the wind, chunky gold earrings and a slim gold cuff at his upper arm, and is wrapped in long white strips of awakened cloth that snake through the image in an energetic explosion of fabric. He gazes at her in handsome adoration and abandon, and she gazes back in love tempered by concern. The title has the same diagonal and italicized design with the same typeface and flourishes, but the title is jazzed up with shimmery, iridescent type. At the top is the tagling "She was forced to marry a god... Then she took his breath away!"

[kiemiu]

pda w/ boyfriend chris | ( gender neutral!reader ) fluff + soft hours. established relationship headcanons wc 518 (library) + (request)

boyfriend!chris who wipes crumbs from the side of your mouth. "you're so messy, baby." he'd murmur with a teasing tone. but nothing could displace the fond look in his eyes as he gently brushed away the layer of salt that gathered on the corner of your mouth.

boyfriend!chris who shields your eyes from the sun if you forget your sunglasses. "can't have you goin' blind, now can we? how will you look at your handsome boyfriend?"

boyfriend!chris who keeps a hand on your lower back when you're walking together. he likes the feeling of keeping you close, and letting the whole world know that you're his. more often than not his hand will drift down to squeeze your butt when you least expect it.

boyfriend!chris who sits next you on dates. he can't stand being farther than an arms length from you. and even if he can reach over the table and hold your hand, nothing compares to the warmth you radiate.

boyfriend!chris who enjoys feeding you more than eating himself. he'll cut up your food and separate the sides of the dish so they're not touching and get mixed in together. "say 'aah' baby." he'd softly say, his mouth staying slightly agape until you clamp down on the fork.

boyfriend!chris who wraps an arm around your legs when he's sitting and you're standing. he'll lean his head against your hips, his thumb gently rubbing circles into the skin of your thigh while you run your fingers through his hair. "mm, feels s'good baby." his words slurred as he basks in your affection.

boyfriend!chris who rubs his face against your neck. when he's feeling more clingy than usual, he'll rub his face on your neck as if he was a kitty. always smiling when you'd burst into soft laughter from being tickled by his stubble.

boyfriend!chris who holds all of your bags when you go shopping together. he groans and complains about his arms hurting and how he wants to go home while also refusing to go wait in the car or even let you leave his direct line of sight.

boyfriend!chris who likes to give you back hugs. he'll gently rock you side to side while the both of you stand away from the line in front of the cash register, patiently waiting to pick up your order. he'll dip his head down next to your ear and softly ask "y'okay?" after you've been standing for awhile, and give you a gentle squeeze when you nod in confirmation.

boyfriend!chris who gives you piggyback rides. even though chris adores the way you look in heels, he prefers you to be comfortable more than anything. so, when you complain about your aching feet, chris is quick to remove your shoes and offer his back to carry you on. always laughing like a maniac when you yell at him for running or when he acts like he'll drop you.

boyfriend!chris who loves you so much, he doesn't care about making other people uncomfortable when it comes to his affection.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 🥡: @emely9274 @ginswife @madifilipowiczslvt

[brunchable]

This is your boyfriend, Mom? PT. 2

《 Lucas takes Bucky to bring-your-dad-to-school. 》

Pairings: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Single Mom reader. Themes: Comedy. Fluff with Lucas <3 Also Bucky getting cockblocked at the end. Summary: Lucas has an upcoming bring your dad to school day, and he chose to being Bucky with him. A/N: Bucky x Lucas is starting to grow on me help🥲 Parts : 1 and 1.5

Lucas had been suspiciously quiet during dinner. Normally, you’d be hearing about how his day went, including stories about how he managed to outwit his teacher with some clever quip. But tonight, he was pushing his food around his plate like it had personally offended him.

You and Bucky exchange a glance. Something’s up.

“What’s wrong, Lucky?” you ask gently, leaning forward. “You’ve barely touched your mashed potatoes, and you love those.”

Lucas sighs dramatically, not even looking up. “It’s bring-your-dad-to-school day tomorrow.”

Bucky pauses mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air. “And?”

“And… nothing,” Lucas mutters, eyes fixed on his plate.

You tilt your head, trying to decipher the sudden gloom. “Well, that sounds fun. Maybe you should bring your dad. I’m sure he’d—”

Lucas immediately cuts you off with a loud groan, throwing his head back in frustration. “Ughhh, Mom! No! Dad's so boring. He works in finance. All he does is talk about spreadsheets and stocks. None of the kids will care!”

You can’t help but laugh softly. “He’s not that bad, Lucas. He could probably teach your classmates a lot about—”

“Boring stuff,” Lucas finishes for you, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout. “Last time he tried to explain stocks to me, I fell asleep with my eyes open.”

Bucky nearly chokes on his water, trying to stifle a laugh. “You fell asleep with your eyes open?”

Lucas nods seriously, “Mid-sentence, too. I think I went into some kind of boredom coma.”

You smirk, brushing a hand through Lucas’s hair. “Come on, he’s your dad. He’d probably love to come.”

Lucas gives you an exasperated look, then glances over at Bucky, who’s watching the exchange with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

“Well,” Lucas says, avoiding eye contact, “I was kinda thinking… maybe Bucky could come instead.”

Bucky looks surprised, his eyebrows shooting up. “Me?”

Lucas shrugs, his eyes fixed on the table. “Yeah, I mean, you’ve got a metal arm and you work with the Avengers. You’re way cooler than someone who talks about dividends all day.”

You stifle a chuckle, giving Lucas a gentle nudge. “You’re sure? I mean, it’s bring-your-dad-to-school day, not bring-your-mom’s-boyfriend-to-school day.”

Lucas huffs and folds his arms over his chest. “Well, it should be. Besides, Bucky’s basically, like, half-superhero, half-robot, and a little bit grumpy old man.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “A little grumpy?”

“Only sometimes,” Lucas adds quickly. “But the metal arm makes up for it.”

You shoot Bucky a look, stifling a laugh, while Bucky grins down at Lucas. “So, you want me to come, huh? Even though I’m just ‘kinda’ cool?”

Lucas rolls his eyes but can’t hide the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, well, you’re cooler than spreadsheets.”

Bucky snorts and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “High praise.”

× × × × 

The Next Day: Bring Your Dad to School Day

Lucas had been jittery all morning, and you weren’t sure whether it was nerves or excitement. He kept fixing his hair and adjusting his backpack, sneaking glances at Bucky as if checking to see if he’d changed his mind about coming.

When you finally arrive at the school, Lucas shifts uncomfortably, standing close to you and Bucky with a mixture of anxiety and hope in his eyes. “You’ll come inside, right?”

Bucky crouches slightly to meet Lucas at eye level, offering him a reassuring smile. “Of course. Wouldn’t miss it, buddy. Besides, I’ve gotta make sure I look cool enough for your friends, right?”

Lucas lets out a breath and nods, though he tries to play it off cool. “Just… don’t embarrass me, okay?”

Bucky raises his hands in surrender. “No embarrassment. Got it.”

As you enter the classroom, the air is buzzing with excitement. Kids are introducing their dads, proudly sharing what they do for work—doctors, engineers, even a dad who runs a bakery, much to everyone’s delight.

When it’s Lucas’s turn, the room grows quiet, and he shuffles nervously to the front of the class. He glances back at Bucky, his hands fidgeting at his sides, and when he starts speaking, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Um… this is Bucky. He’s not my dad, but he’s my mom’s boyfriend.” He pauses, his eyes scanning the room nervously before flicking back to Bucky, who gives him an encouraging nod.

At first, Lucas stammers, his voice soft and unsure. “He… um… he’s an Avenger.”

The entire class gasps, but Lucas doesn't look up. He shuffles a bit, glancing at the floor. “And, uh… he’s kinda cool.”

Bucky smiles warmly, but Lucas’s words grow more confident as he goes on, his voice gaining strength as he talks about Bucky.

“He helps me with my homework, even though he pretends like he doesn’t understand math… but he does. And… uh, he taught me how to ride a bike.”

Bucky’s eyebrows lift in surprise, and you feel a lump forming in your throat as Lucas continues, his confidence building with every word.

“And… one time, when I was scared to sleep because of a thunderstorm, he sat with me until I fell asleep. He didn’t even get mad when I drooled on him.” A few kids giggle, and Lucas grins, glancing at Bucky. “He says his metal arm doesn’t feel anything, but I think he just says that so I don’t worry when I hold onto it too tight.”

Bucky’s expression softens, and your eyes start to well up with tears, your heart swelling as you hear the affection in Lucas’s voice.

“He helps me with stuff that’s hard for me, like when I don’t get something right away, and he never makes me feel bad about it. And… he told me that even superheroes need help sometimes, so it’s okay if I ask for help too.”

The classroom is silent, except for the occasional sniffle from you, tears pooling in your eyes as Lucas keeps talking, his confidence shining through.

“So yeah,” Lucas finishes, smiling now, “Bucky’s not my real dad, but he’s kinda like a superhero at home too. He doesn’t fly or have a shield, but… he’s the best.”

Bucky looks completely stunned, blinking back emotion as he stares at Lucas. The classroom erupts in applause, the kids clearly in awe of everything they just heard. You wipe a tear from your cheek, trying not to let anyone see how much Lucas’s words touched you.

As Lucas walks back to his seat, Bucky watches him with a mix of pride and disbelief. When Lucas sits down, the teacher looks at Bucky expectantly.

“Well, Mr. Barnes, it seems Lucas has given you quite the introduction,” she says warmly. “Would you like to say a few words about Lucas?”

Bucky clears his throat, standing a little taller as he glances over at Lucas, who’s avoiding eye contact, clearly a bit shy after all that. “Uh, sure,” Bucky says, his voice soft but steady.

He pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then smiles gently as he looks at Lucas.

“Lucas… he’s, uh, he’s kind of a big deal, y’know?” Bucky starts, his voice tender. “He’s got this heart that’s… I don’t even know how to describe it. Bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. And he cares about people in ways that… well, I guess you don’t really expect from a kid his age.”

Bucky shifts, his eyes softening as he continues. “He’s tough. And not just the way he talks tough—which he definitely does, let me tell you. But he’s got this kind of strength that’s rare. The kind that makes him want to help other people, even when he’s having a rough day.”

He pauses, glancing at Lucas, who is trying to hide a small smile, his cheeks pink.

“I never expected to be the guy teaching a kid how to ride a bike or helping with homework. But with Lucas… I dunno, it’s different. It’s like he teaches me more than I could ever teach him. He’s patient with me when I mess up—‘cause, believe me, I mess up a lot.”

The class is quiet, listening intently as Bucky’s voice softens even more. “He makes me want to be better. And he never has to say that; it’s just the way he is. I didn’t think I’d be good at this kind of thing, being there for someone like him. But Lucas? He makes it easy. And… well, I’m just lucky I get to be part of his life.”

Bucky glances back at you for a moment, a flicker of emotion in his eyes before he looks at Lucas, smiling warmly. “I’m proud of him. More than I can put into words.”

The room is silent for a moment, the emotion in Bucky’s words hanging in the air, and you have to quickly wipe away a tear before anyone notices.

The teacher smiles, clearly touched. “That was beautiful, Mr. Barnes. Thank you for sharing.” She looks at the class. “Does anyone have any questions for Bucky?”

Dozens of hands shoot up, and Bucky laughs softly, still a little overwhelmed by the moment.

“Alright,” Bucky says, grinning. “Who’s first?”

A kid at the front waves his hand excitedly. “Is your metal arm, like, super strong? Can you crush stuff with it?”

Bucky chuckles and flexes his metal arm playfully. “It’s pretty strong. I’ve crushed a few things with it, but I try not to do that too often.”

Another kid raises their hand. “Do you know Captain America?”

Bucky grins. “Yeah, I know him. He’s my best friend.”

Lucas perks up at that, unable to resist adding, “He beat Captain America once. But that’s only because Steve tripped over his own shield.”

The class erupts into giggles, and Bucky shoots Lucas a mock glare. “Hey, I told you to keep that between us.”

The questions continue, with kids asking everything from how Bucky became an Avenger to whether he can fly. Every time Bucky answers, Lucas watches him with this quiet admiration, a look you hadn’t seen before.

Eventually, the teacher wraps up the session, thanking Bucky for his time. As you head out of the classroom, Lucas lingers by Bucky’s side, still a little shy but clearly proud of the whole experience.

“You didn’t embarrass me,” Lucas says softly, glancing up at Bucky as you walk outside.

Bucky smiles, ruffling Lucas’s hair gently. “And you made me look pretty good in front of your friends, kid. Thanks.”

Lucas shrugs, but you can see the small grin on his face. “Yeah, well… it wasn’t that hard.”

× × × ×

The house was quiet, the kind of calm that comes after a long, eventful day. You’d just finished tucking Lucas into bed, though his excitement from earlier had kept him talking longer than usual. His eyes had sparkled as he recounted every detail of the day, especially how cool his friends thought Bucky was.

Now, you found yourself standing at the doorway of Lucas’s room, watching him sleep peacefully, his small face nestled into his pillow, breathing steady.

Bucky’s footsteps were soft as he approached from behind, wrapping his arm around your waist and resting his chin gently on your shoulder. 

“He’s out like a light,” Bucky murmured, his voice low.

You nod, leaning back into him with a content sigh. “He had a big day.”

Bucky’s hold on you tightened slightly, and after a beat of silence, he asked, “Was it… okay? I mean, I didn’t mess anything up, did I?”

You turn in his arms, looking up at him with a soft smile. “Mess it up? Bucky, you were amazing. You saw how happy he was.” You pause, your voice growing more tender. “And how proud he was to bring you.”

Bucky’s eyes flickered, his usually stoic expression faltering for a moment as he glanced back at Lucas’s sleeping form. “I wasn’t sure… you know, about this whole ‘being a dad figure’ thing. I didn’t want to… I don’t know, overstep.”

You reached up, cupping his cheek with your hand, your thumb brushing lightly against the roughness of his stubble. “You didn’t overstep, Bucky. You’ve been exactly what he needs.”

Bucky looked down at you, his blue eyes reflecting a vulnerability he rarely let surface. “I didn’t think I’d be good at this,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think I could be.”

You shook your head gently. “You are, though. Lucas looks up to you. He trusts you.” You could feel your throat tighten, remembering the words Lucas had spoken earlier in the classroom, how he’d talked about Bucky with such affection and pride. “He loves you, Bucky.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched slightly, and for a moment, he looked away, as if the weight of your words was too much to take in. But then, after a long breath, he whispered, “Yeah. I think I love him too.”

There was a softness in his voice, a kind of admission that felt raw and real. You blinked away the tears that welled up again, pulling him into a tight embrace. 

“He’s lucky to have you,” you murmured into his chest.

Bucky wrapped both arms around you, holding you close as if grounding himself in the warmth of the moment. 

“I’m the lucky one,” he whispered into your hair.

After a few quiet moments, you pull away slightly, looking up at him with a teasing smile. “You know, you didn’t embarrass him today, but you both did make me cry in the back of the classroom.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his hand gently brushing a stray hair from your face. 

“Yeah, I noticed that.” His smile turned warm, and he kissed your forehead softly. “Didn’t mean to make you cry, but I guess we’re all getting soft, huh?”

You laugh quietly, wiping the last of your tears. “Maybe just a little.”

Just then, there’s a small rustle from the bed, and Lucas’s sleepy voice drifts over to you both. 

“Mom… Bucky?”

You both turn, finding Lucas sitting up slightly, rubbing his eyes with one small fist. 

“Why are you guys whispering?” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

Bucky grins, stepping over to the bed and sitting on the edge. “Just talking about how cool your day was, buddy.”

Lucas yawns, his eyes half-closed as he leans back into his pillow. 

“You were cool today too,” he mutters sleepily, his words slurring a little. “Even if your hair still looks like it’s trying to run away.”

Bucky chuckles, shaking his head. “Thanks, kid.”

Lucas is quiet for a second before he adds, even softer now, “I’m glad you’re here, Bucky.”

Bucky’s expression softens. He reaches out, ruffling Lucas’s hair gently. “Me too, kid. Get some sleep.”

Lucas smiles faintly, his eyes already closing again as he settles back into sleep.

Bucky stands up, and the two of you tiptoe out of the room, closing the door gently behind you. Once in the hallway, Bucky exhales softly, as if letting go of something he hadn’t even realised he was holding on to.

You slip your hand into his, giving it a squeeze. “You’re doing great,” you whisper.

Bucky looks down at your intertwined hands and nods, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. 

“Yeah,” he whispers back, pulling you closer. “I think we all are.”

× × × × 

Lucas was sound asleep in his room, and you and Bucky finally had the house to yourselves. The TV flickered softly in the background, but you couldn’t care less about what was on. Bucky had already pulled you into his lap, his hands roaming under your shirt, his lips pressing hot kisses against your neck.

You let out a breathy laugh, running your fingers through his hair. “I’ve missed this.”

Bucky smirked, his voice low and dripping with desire.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about this,” he growled, his hands gripping your waist. “I’m gonna take you upstairs, throw you on that bed, spread you out so wide—"

“Why would you do that to her?”

Both of you froze, and your heads whipped around in sync to see Lucas standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes and holding his stuffed dinosaur.

Bucky blinked, his entire body going rigid as his face flushed a deep shade of red. "L-Lucas?" he choked out.

You quickly scrambled off Bucky’s lap, yanking your shirt back down while trying to hide your laughter.

“Lucky, what are you doing up? I thought you were asleep.”

Bucky's entire face flushed beet red, and he looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. "I didn't mean-what I said was-uh..." His brain was clearly not firing on all cylinders. 

You bit your lip, trying not to burst into laughter as Bucky squirmed, knowing full well he had no idea how to recover. 

"Why would you throw her? Then spread her out." Lucas asked again, his little face scrunched up in confusion. "She's not a ball or a sandwich.”

You stifled a giggle, watching Bucky flounder. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to string together some explanation. 

"It's, uh... it's just an expression, buddy. You know, like when people say 'hit the hay' but they're not actually hitting anything?" 

Lucas blinked, unconvinced. "But you said you were gonna throw her and make her spread open. What does that mean?" 

Bucky's eyes widened in horror, and you couldn't hold it back anymore-you let out a loud snort, which quickly turned into full-blown laughter. Bucky glared at you like this is your fault, but you were too busy wiping tears from your eyes to care.

Bucky’s face was buried in his hands now. He muttered something unintelligible into his palms, and you could tell he was dying inside.

“It’s… just an expression,” he groaned, finally looking up, but clearly at a loss.

Lucas blinked, still not understanding. “I don’t get it. Do adults spread each other out when they’re tired?”

You were doubled over in laughter now, barely able to catch your breath. “Oh my God, this is the best thing that’s ever happened.”

Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he was considering moving to another planet. He let out the world’s longest sigh before saying, “No, Lucas, adults don’t… spread each other out when they’re tired.”

Lucas squinted, still confused. “Then why would you say that?”

"I'LL EXPLAIN TOMORROW," Bucky blurted out, clearly desperate to end the conversation.

“Okay. But it sounds weird. Like, why wouldn’t you just say you’re gonna tuck her in? That’s nicer than throwing her and spreading her out.” Lucas nodded, though it was clear he still didn’t get it.

Bucky muttered something under his breath, staring at the ceiling like he was silently asking the universe for strength. 

“You’re right, Lucas. Tucking her in is a much better way to say it.”

Lucas gave him a satisfied nod, as if he’d just solved the world’s biggest mystery. “Yeah. So next time, just say you’re gonna tuck her in.”

Bucky shot you a look that was half I hate you and half I’m going to die. “Sure thing, champ. Next time, I’ll… tuck her in.”

“Good,” Lucas said, completely oblivious to the awkwardness. “Can I sleep in your room tonight? I don’t wanna go back to mine.”

Bucky’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want, buddy.”

Lucas turned to head back toward the hallway but stopped just before he left. “And Bucky?”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, dreading whatever was coming next. “Yeah, Lucas?”

“Next time you should say ‘I’m gonna tuck you in real tight.’ That sounds better than spreading her out.”

Bucky didn't even try to respond, but then, after a brief pause, a mischievous grin spread across his face. 

“Alright, Mr. Tuck Expert,” he said, standing up quickly. “You’re gonna get tucked in first!”

Before Lucas could react, Bucky scooped him up like a sack of potatoes, tossing him over his shoulder. Lucas squealed in surprise, kicking his legs in the air as Bucky made his way to the stairs.

“Bucky! What are you doing?!”

Bucky laughed, giving Lucas a playful bounce. “I’m tucking you in, but I’m gonna do it real tight just like you said!”

Lucas giggled uncontrollably as Bucky carried him toward the stairs. “Not like that! That’s too tight!”

Bucky threw you a playful grin over his shoulder. “See you upstairs, doll,” he said smoothly. “Looks like we’re gonna have company in the middle tonight.”

Lucas kept giggling the whole way as Bucky disappeared up the stairs, bouncing him lightly like a sack of potatoes. You shook your head, still laughing, knowing full well that once Lucas was settled in the middle of your bed, Bucky would come back down for some unfinished business.

[hookingminor]

4 times you took care of him + 1 time he took care of you - nico hischier

a/n: rewrite of an old fic of mine

cw: brief mentions of blood, stitches, alcohol

word count: 7.4k

summary: nico is the cute neighbor boy across the hall

-

1. 

Sunday nights were your nights. After a long week of studying and working crazy hours, you only had one day to yourself where you weren’t running around like a chicken with its head cut off and could take five minutes to finally breathe. 

Sundays were also the only days you actually took the time to make yourself dinner. Most of your days were either spent in class or at the hospital, so you never prepared anything that couldn’t be done in less than ten minutes. Sometimes you were so lazy that you just counted on cafeteria food and granola bars to hold you over before having cereal for dinner and crashing by eleven o’clock.

Tonight’s specialty was your own take on a carbonara with some grilled chicken on the top. It wasn’t anything fancy, but you had been working on a recipe to perfect this for nearly three months now, and you were almost satisfied with the results.

It was in the middle of adding the finishing touches by combining the pasta and the sauce when you heard a knock on your door. Setting the towel on the counter and reducing the stove heat to a low simmer, you made your way to answer the door.

“Oh, hi, Nico,” you said with surprise when you saw your neighbor on the other side. He lived across the hall from you, but you rarely saw him in the building. Still, it wasn’t hard to notice that he was incredibly attractive.

“Hi,” he greeted you. The smells of your dinner wafted over him, and he peeked over your head to catch a glimpse of what you were preparing. 

“I just stopped by to drop this off,” he said, handing you an envelope. “They keep mixing up our mailboxes.”

“Thank you,” you replied as you glanced down at the letter. “I have a few for you as well, hold on just a second.”

You turned away from the door and walked back towards the kitchen to where you kept a stash of his mail. You’d been meaning to drop it off, but your hours at home never coincided with each other. 

Granted, you could have slipped it under his door, but you really just wanted an excuse to talk to the cute neighbor boy. You were just waiting until you worked up the nerve to knock on his door.

Nico took a few steps into your apartment, not wanting to overstep but also not wanting to stand in the hall awkwardly as you rummaged through some papers. As he waited, his eyes wandered back over to the stove where you were cooking some type of pasta. 

His stomach growled lowly as the smell of seasoned chicken and sauces flooded his senses, and he realized he hadn’t eaten anything in nearly five hours.

“Sorry,” he said with a blush. There was no way you hadn’t heard that grumble. “Guess I forgot to eat something after practice.”

“Did you want some?” You asked almost too eagerly. “I mean, I made quite a bit,” you backtracked quickly, “I usually survive the week on leftovers.”

“No, it’s okay,” he chuckled, but Nico wanted nothing more than to shove a forkful of whatever you had made into his mouth. “I’ll probably just order something for delivery.”

“Please, I insist,” you persisted, “I made a lot, and your food won’t be here for, like, another hour at least.” God, you were coming off as desperate, and you mentally slapped yourself for it.

He looked at you hesitantly, obviously not wanting to intrude, but damn if he wasn’t really hungry.

You didn’t wait for his reply before dropping the mail back where it was and crossing the kitchen to the stove. Pulling out an extra plate, you began piling it with pasta and chicken, and Nico figured it was too late to refuse you again.

“Take a seat,” you suggested as you plated a dish for yourself. “You’re not an intrusion, I promise. I don’t get a lot of company anyways.”

“Busy life?” Nico asked. It was then that he realized he really didn’t know much about you despite having run into you multiple times in the hallways.

“You could say that,” you chuckled humorlessly. It was a combination of being both busy and having no friends, but you weren’t about to tell him that. 

“What do you do?” He questioned as he rested his elbows on the table.

“I’m a nursing student, so I spend all my time studying or working at the hospital,” you explained as you brought the plates over to the table. He mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’ when you set his food down in front of him. It looked delicious. Nico’s skills in the kitchen were subpar to say the least; he couldn’t make anything that didn’t come with box instructions or wasn’t baked chicken and vegetables. So having an actual home cooked meal was starting to feel like Christmas.

“Is that why I only ever see you coming home at midnight?” He wondered, picking up a fork to take a bite.

Nico was right, it was delicious. 

“Yeah, hours are a little crazy for me right now, but they should settle down once I graduate,” you replied as you took a bite. It was your best carbonara yet, but it wasn’t quite perfect. “What about you? Why are you always coming home at midnight?”

You’d never talked to him much after that first day when he helped you with a couple boxes as you moved in. Most of your interactions were restricted to passing each other in the halls and the polite conversation about how your day was going and the weather.

“I, uh, play hockey,” he started, “and we get back from road trips really late sometimes.”

“No shit, really?” Your eyes widened in shock, “like you play for the Devils?” You weren’t well versed in sports in general, and even less so in New Jersey sports. However, you did hear chatter around from your classmates and coworkers about various games.

Nico nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah, I’m the captain.” Every revelation about him continued to shock you.

“So I’m dining with New Jersey royalty then, huh?” You teased after a moment. Even though you didn’t know much, you did know the Devils were doing exceptionally well at the moment.

He blushed at your compliment, “I’m not royalty.”

“Your team’s current record says otherwise given the team’s horrendous past ,” you commented, dropping the little bit of knowledge you knew as you overheard your lab partner go on about the Devils’ hot streak.

Nico raised his eyebrows in surprise at your statement.

“I’m not an actual fan, so don’t test me,” you chuckled at his surprise, “My lab partner is always talking about the Devils, and I may have unknowingly processed some of the information.”

“It’s not because of me. The team’s just doing well in general,” he brushed it off casually, but you knew that wasn’t totally the case. The team may be good, but good leadership can be what makes or breaks them.

“So you’re not a big cook then, I presume?” You asked instead, changing the subject to something else. Nico probably talked about hockey enough with other people, you didn’t want to bore him even more.

“You could say that,” he said, repeating your phrase from earlier. “If it’s not something a seven year old could make, it’s not something I could make.” He had barely registered that he’d finished off everything on his plate by now while you were still finishing yours.

“Did you want more?” You asked, noticing his empty plate, but Nico shook his head.

“No, thank you, this was more than enough,” Nico insisted. “I’ve bothered you enough tonight.”

“Really, I don’t mind,” you said, clearing off your plate. “It’s nice to talk to someone who isn’t asking me about upcoming exams or patient reports or asking for more painkillers.”

“It’s nice not talking about hockey, too,” he agreed.

Rising from your seat, you took his plate and yours to the sink as you were both now finished.

“I got this,” Nico said quickly, following you to the sink and lightly hip checking you out the way. “I do know basic manners. You cooked, so I’ll clean.”

You opened your mouth to argue with him, but the look on his face said the conversation was already over, and he grabbed the sponge with one hand. Deciding to leave it alone, you held your hands up in surrender and backed away from the sink. While he was busy, you packed up the leftovers into a plastic container.

“I make dinner every Sunday,” you said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “So, if you want, you’re always free to join me.” You didn’t look at him when you said this, trying to keep it casual and so he wouldn’t see the way your face was riddled with embarrassment. You were trying to subtly ask him to come over more, and you didn’t want to be faced with his rejection.

You heard the sink shutoff and saw his body turn towards yours out of the corner of your eyes as he leaned against the counter.

“I’d really like that,” he said, “but I do have one condition though.” You looked up and met his gaze with raised brows.

“You have to teach me how to cook,” he continued with an easy grin as he dried off his hands with a towel.

“You’ve got a deal,” you agreed, matching his smile with one of your own.

You sent Nico home that night with the leftover carbonara and his mail despite his protests, but you argued that he couldn’t live off takeout forever and that you could always make more food whereas he could not.

The next Sunday he had showed up around dinner time once again, this time bringing over a plate of cookies that he most definitely bought at the store but tried to play off as baking them himself. He had said if you were going to be doing a majority of the work, the least he could do was bring you something in return.

Every Sunday after that Nico was at your place. On the off chance he was out of town, he always left you a note on your door saying he wouldn’t be making it and notifying you of when he’d see you next. You didn’t need the notes, he didn’t have to tell you whether or not he was coming, but they made your heart flutter every time you came home and saw a blue sticky note waiting for you. 

You taught him a few staple dishes, mainly how to cook pasta and rice and some salads. His capabilities weren’t all that vast, and he wanted to remain in the realm of foods that weren’t too complicated so he couldn’t fuck up.

Making dinner with Nico turned into messing around in the kitchen for a couple hours most of the time. You teased him about his chopping abilities and he teased you every time your small hands dropped something due to your lack of coordination, to which you complained how not everyone could be a professional athlete. 

And every time you two ate at your same spots at the table, sometimes splitting a bottle of wine that Nico would bring over. 

Every once in a while Nico would arrive with a bag of takeout in his hand, declaring that you needed a break from all the cooking. There was no reason to have dinner together since it wasn’t under the guise of teaching him something new, but you still welcomed him nonetheless.

Sundays were no longer your nights, but that was perfectly fine by you as long as you could keep sharing them with Nico.

-

2. 

Nico was getting a little desperate. 

Two months had passed since he started coming over for weekly dinners, and he was making no progress. It’s not like he was really trying, though. If he was being honest, he wasn’t quite sure how to flirt with a woman without the intention of sleeping with her.

Which isn’t to say he didn’t want to sleep with you because he definitely did, it just wasn’t all that he wanted.

He hoped he conveyed interest on his part, but he wasn’t positive you were picking up on his hints. Or maybe you just weren’t into him.

So, he decided to take it one step further. He bought some plants.

Nico knew next to nothing about plants other than that they needed water, but he’d noticed you kept a few in your apartment near your large window.

Once again, he found himself knocking on your door, but this time you weren’t expecting it.

“Hey, what’s up?” You asked him when you opened the door. It wasn’t like him to show up to your place out of the blue.

“I wanted to ask you a favor,” he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ve got a week long roadie and was wondering if, maybe, you’d look after my plants?”

“Oh yeah, definitely, I can do that,” you said with a smile.

“Do you have a minute right now? I can show them to you really quick,” he asked, gesturing with his arm to his door. You nodded your head in agreement, and Nico took a few steps backward to let you into his apartment.

You followed him through the entrance and paused briefly. His apartment layout was the exact same as yours only flipped. He walked until he hit the same balcony window where you kept your plants, and you saw he had about four small pots along with a large pot that sat in the corner.

“This is the gang,” he introduced, spreading his arms to show them off.

“This is so cute,” you chuckled, stepping closer to get a better look at the plants. You noticed one of them was also one you had.

“I’m going to be honest,” he started. “I only recently bought them, so I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“Well, they seem to be still living, so you haven’t done anything too bad,” you teased lightly.

“Oh, let me get the spare key for you,” he said suddenly before he turned and left you alone to fetch the key.

Nico returned less than a minute later, small black key fob in his hand. You opened your hand for him to place it in your palm.

“When will you be back?” You asked, stretching back up from your squatted position.

“Next Wednesday,” he clarified, “and I leave tomorrow.” You nodded.

There wasn’t much more to say, so you told him a brief ‘good luck’ on his roadie before leaving. Returning to your own, you made a mental note to check in on his plants tomorrow.

The following afternoon, you let yourself into Nico’s apartment with the key he’d given you. You read the sticky note he left for you on the counter, the words reading ‘in case of an emergency’ along with his phone number.

You rolled your eyes at the note, laughing lightly at his phrasing of ‘in case of an emergency.’ You hardly thought watering plants would cause a catastrophic event, but the gesture was cute.

Filling up a few cups of water, you made your way over to his plants and distributed the water throughout until you’d gone over all of them. Before you could think better of it, you snapped a picture of the plants in the window before opening a text thread to Nico.

You: First day all done! :)

He didn’t reply for a few hours, but that was okay because you hadn’t expected him to reply at all.

Nico: They’re looking better already!

Ever since that first day, you began exchanging messages. His replies were sporadic, but you didn’t mind; he was a busy guy. Still, he managed to text you whenever he could, and your conversations quickly turned away from his plants to other subjects. 

You recommended some new shows for him to watch while he was on road trips, and he told you where his favorite takeout restaurants were when you felt too lazy to cook. 

Honestly, Sundays didn’t feel the same without him, but you didn’t tell him you stopped cooking when he didn’t show up.

Even when Nico was back in town, you found yourself texting him frequently in your classes and also on your breaks, and Nico found himself waking up every morning looking forward to whatever message you’d sent after he’d fallen asleep.

-

3. 

The incessant pounding at your door woke you up from your sleep. You knew who it was immediately as there was only one person who visited you, and you were ready to yell at him after you answered the door. 

Throwing on a sweatshirt, you stomped your way to the door and shouted out, “I’m coming!” so Nico could take the hint to shut the hell up.

“Oh my god, Nico,” you groaned as you threw open the door, “It’s two in the fucking morning.” But it wasn’t Nico you were greeted with.

Or rather, he wasn’t the only one outside the door.

“Uh, hi,” a man said as Nico leaned against him, very obviously drunk.

“Hi?” You asked, your eyes flicking over to the drunken Nico.

“I think he lost his key,” the stranger said, “and then he was knocking on your door before I could take him back to my place.”

“Of course,” you sighed. “You love bothering me, don’t you, Nico?”

“Y/N,” he slurred your name when he heard your voice. “I told you she was beautiful, Hughes.” He clearly meant to whisper the last part into his friend’s ear, but his impaired state changed his whisper into a quiet shout.

“Alright, buddy, let’s keep it down,” his friend said with a chuckle as he tried to spare him from saying something else embarrassing.

“Do you still have my key? I forgot mine,” Nico asked instead, lifting his eyes to yours.

“I left it in your apartment last time I watered the plants,” you answered and Nico let out an annoyed groan.

“It’s fine, he can stay here tonight,” you said, addressing his friend this time.

“You sure? I don’t want to bother you,” his friend insisted. “I can just bring him back to my place.”

“Don’t worry about it, you already dragged him all the way here. I can handle it,” you said and opened the door further.

His friend lugged him into your apartment and led Nico to the couch, plopping him down on the cushions.

“Thanks for doing this. I’m sorry for waking you,” he apologized once Nico was settled.

“No problem, I’m used to him interrupting my nights,” you chuckled lightly, though it sounded more sexual than you intended for it to.

“Yeah, well,” the stranger said with an awkward laugh, “I’ll get out of your hair then.” And then he turned to leave. “Hischier! Text me in the morning!” He called out one last time and Nico grumbled his acknowledgement. Then his friend was gone, leaving you alone with a drunken twenty-something year old.

“Alright, Nico, let’s get you ready for bed,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to him. He was splayed out on his back on your couch, head lolled against a decorative pillow. If it weren’t for his indecipherable sounds, you would’ve thought he was asleep.

You left him alone for a minute as you retreated back to your room to grab a couple extra blankets and a pillow that wouldn’t end up hurting his neck.

When you returned, Nico was now on his stomach with one arm dangled off the couch.

“Feeling okay, bud?” You asked gently, brushing back a few strands of his hair to check if he was still awake. He hummed a quiet ‘yeah’ and you lifted his head to replace the throw pillow with a fluffier one from your bed.

You draped one large blanket over his body and then set another smaller one on top of that. Nico sighed in content and you made a quick trip to the kitchen to retrieve a couple Advil pills and a glass of water.

“Can you drink this before you fall asleep?” You asked when you got back to the living room. 

Despite his intoxication, Nico managed to sit up just enough to swallow the pills down with a drink of water before flopping his head back down. You set the half-full glass on the coffee table and leaned over to turn off the lamp.

“You good to sleep?” You questioned, and Nico nodded his head to the best of his ability.

“I’ll be in my room if you need anything,” you said finally, making your way back to the hallway.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said quietly before you were out of hearing range, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Nico,” you murmured with a small smile.

-

4.

“How the hell did this even happen? Sticks are supposed to remain on the ice, you know,” you wondered with curiosity. 

Nico knocked on your door at nearly midnight, hair still damp from his shower and still in his Devils sweats. If it weren’t for the fact that you were awake and watching a movie, you wouldn’t have noticed the knocking. 

When you opened the door, you were met with split stitches and tired eyes. Ushering him into your apartment, you led him to the bathroom where you kept the first-aid. 

Nico pushed himself up so he could sit on your counter and gave you a sheepish smile.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “They stitched me up after the game, but they came out.”

“So, why didn’t you contact your trainers or something?” You inquired, opening your kit and grabbing the alcohol.

“Because I have a perfectly good nurse here at home to stitch me back up,” he answered with an easy grin. You gave him an incredulous look.

“It seems like I’m constantly getting the short end of the stick in this relationship,” you said as you stepped between his legs to inspect his face. It wasn’t anything serious, just a few stitches that broke. In all honesty, he probably could’ve survived the night without fixing it, but you weren’t going to turn down an opportunity to be this close to him.

“Close your eyes,” you ordered before he could say anything back. Nico followed your instruction obediently, fluttering his eyes shut as if he had all the time in the world.

Using a small pair of scissors, you snipped at the remaining stitches. You took the tweezers next and gently pulled at the broken strands, slowly removing them from his cheek. Nico’s eyes twitched slightly at the discomfort, but he said nothing as you reopened his wound.

“You’re really good at this,” he stated, and you noticed that he had opened one eye to watch you. You blushed at his compliment, your cheeks heating at the warm feeling you got when you looked into his eyes.

Averting his gaze, you muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ before opening an alcohol pad.

“You’re going to want to really close your eyes for this, it might burn,” you recommended. The cut was along his cheekbone, stretching about three inches and oozing just a little bit of blood.

You cleaned along the cut lightly, one of your hands cupping his cheek while the other managed the wipe. After throwing the bloodied pad off to the side, you brought out the small bottle of lidocaine you had stashed away underneath all your bandaids. You squeezed a bit onto a cotton swab and dabbed the area around the cut. The lidocaine took a few minutes to kick in, so you busied yourself by preparing the thread and sanitizing the needle.

“I want you to know that I’m not actually a certified nurse yet. I’m still in training,” you explained. “So, if this hurts it’s your fault.”

“I trust you,” he said simply with a smirk.

“I would hope so,” you scoffed, “You’re letting a nursing student with a needle stitch near the eye of the New Jersey Devils Captain.”

“Besides, if you fuck up, I’ll just blame it on you when we lose after I can’t play because I’ve been blinded,” he teased.

“Don’t even joke about that, Nico. All of New Jersey would burn me alive,” you said, slugging his arm in response.

Was he about to let a beautiful, uncertified girl stitch him back together just because he wanted an excuse to spend more time with her? Absolutely.

He gave you a light chuckle as he leaned back on his hands, the fabric of his t-shirt stretching deliciously over his broad chest. It took everything in you to not linger your eyes over his arms and how large they looked right now.

“Is it numb yet?” You asked instead, refocusing your attention on threading the needle.

“Yeah, I think so,” he replied, bringing a couple fingers to poke at his cheek, but you swatted his hand away before he could do more damage.

Taking the same position as before, you stood between his legs again and angled his head slightly to the side so you could examine it under better light.

“Just let me know if it hurts, okay?” You insisted, holding the needle between your tweezers. You waited for Nico’s nod of agreement before starting.

You punctured the skin with the point and crossed the wound before poking through the other side. Nico’s hands instinctively reached out to grasp at your hips as he breathed in a sharp breath of air. 

“Oh my god, is it not numb?” You panicked, pausing all your movements as you gauged his face for any signs of pain.

“It stung a little bit,” he replied, but the tightened grip on your waist said otherwise. “I was just a little shocked, is all.” He added that last part when he saw the worry spread across your face as your eyes widened in fear of hurting him. “Keep going, I’m fine.”

You gave him a hesitant look, not wanting to continue if it was going to cause him pain. This time when he squeezed your sides, it was to reassure you and encourage you to continue. 

Nico kept his hands where they were, sliding his thumbs just underneath the hem of your shirt to trace soft circles into your skin. Recommencing your movements, you repeated the same crisscrossing threads over his cut, trying to work as quickly as possible.

When you’d finished, you knotted off the ends, clipped the remaining thread, and applied a salve over the sealed wound.

“There you go,” you said as you finished touching him up.

“And my kiss to make it feel better?” He asked with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at his presumptuousness but leaned in to press a light kiss near his stitches.

“Can I trust you to not pull them out again?” You retorted, stepping out of his grip to clean up your supplies.

“I don’t know…” he trailed off as in deep contemplation, “I might need you to spend the night and keep an eye on me.”

“Nice try, bud,” you chuckled, “but it’s not going to happen.” He pouted. 

“And if you do tear them again, I’m not restitching it.”

You finished packing away your materials and walked Nico back to your front door.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said when you opened the door. 

“Anytime,” you replied, “Goodnight, Nico.”

Leaning forward, he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek in appreciation before crossing the few feet to his door. You hoped he couldn’t see the way your eyes widened in shock, but if he did see, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

-

+ 1 

For the first time since you’ve met Nico, it was finally your turn to cancel on dinner. You really didn’t want to, as the dinners with him were the highlight of your week, but you knew if you broke concentration for even a minute to entertain him, your mind would be thinking about him even after he left. And you were not going to pass the NCLEX if Nico was invading all of your thoughts. You’d been studying for this exam for months, but now it was a week out and it was crunch time.

You: Gotta cancel on dinner Sunday, sorry :(

Nico: Going out of town? Got a hot date?

You: The only dates I’ll be having for the next week is between me and my millions of notes for my board exam 

Nico: Stressed out?

You: You wouldn’t even believe, so if I’m MIA for a few days, don’t worry 

Nico: Are we still on for next Sunday?

You: Yes. We will either be celebrating or commiserating, so get your wine ready

Nico: I’ll bring over the best since we’ll be celebrating :)

You didn’t know how to reply, so you reacted to his message with a thumbs up before leaving him on read.

-

For the next few days, you studied your ass off. Sunday came, but when six o’clock rolled around, you couldn’t help your thoughts from straying from your studies and over to what you would be doing with Nico if it weren’t for this stupid exam.

And as if he had read your mind, your phone dinged with a new text message.

Nico: Open your door

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you read the text, and you were just about to tell him off for disturbing you after you already told him you didn’t have the time.

However, that wasn’t the case because when you opened your door, Nico was nowhere to be found although a paper bag rested on the ground in front of you. 

Cautiously, you picked up the bag and brought it inside, immediately smelling the tzatziki sauce from your favorite Greek restaurant.

You: What’s this?

You texted him, along with a picture of the bag.

Nico: Even if we aren’t making dinner, you should still eat, and I figured gyros were better than cereal 

He was right. You had planned on pouring yourself a bowl of cereal when the hunger became too much and forced you to take a break. And gyros definitely were better than Frosted Flakes.

You: You’re a lifesaver, truly. Thank you!

Nico opened the message and didn’t reply, even though he really wanted to, but he knew you had studying to do and the last thing he wanted was to distract you.

-

After pulling an all-nighter, Sunday slowly turned into Monday, and you had finally decided to go to bed at nine on Monday morning. The few hours of sleep you got were welcomed, but rest did little to calm yourself down. The exam was on Friday, and you still had four years worth of material to remember. 

So, you dragged yourself out of bed around three in the afternoon and plopped yourself on the ground in front of your couch where all your notes were still spread on the floor.

You’d gotten through about four chapters in your review book before you heard a knock at the door. 

Pushing yourself up by your hands, you crossed the length of the apartment to the door. If it was Nico, he was about to be really turned off by how messy you looked.

And once again, it wasn’t him. 

Just like yesterday, something awaited you in front of your door. This time, it was a four cup drink tray filled with different coffees. 

Picking them up off the ground, you walked it back into your home and set it on your kitchen counter. There was a blue sticky note attached to the top in true Nico style, and you were smiling at the familiar handwriting before you even read what it said.

Thought you could use a pick-me-up :)

PS: I didn’t know what you liked, but you’re NOT allowed to drink these all at once

You chuckled at the last sentence. Of course he would send you four different orders because he didn’t know what you wanted. In all honesty, you could survive on just plain black coffee with nothing added if needed, but the fact that he sent you options had your heart swelling. 

You scanned through each cup, reading the labels on each one as they ranged from a standard black coffee to a sweet caramel latte, all of them iced (you had mentioned once that you only drank iced coffee, even in the middle of the winter). It didn’t slip your mind that this was from that expensive shop a few blocks down, the one you could only allow yourself to go to once a month because you knew it would drain you quickly.

Deciding to tease Nico a little bit, you stuck a straw in every single lid. You connected all four straws in the middle and closed your lips over them and took a drink. The resulting taste wasn’t fantastic, but it was worth the funny selfie you took drinking them that you sent to Nico.

You: What was it that I wasn’t allowed to do? Your note wasn’t clear 

Nico: I’m never sending you coffee again

-

On Tuesday, Nico sent you a bouquet of sunflowers. They were massive and bright and you couldn’t see over them as you placed them on the table.

Hope these sunflowers brighten up your day

-

On Wednesday, Nico got back from his short roadie. Maybe it was the constant studying, or maybe it was the little gifts Nico sent you, but your stress levels seemed to calm down as the week went on. There was still the pressure to do well, but every time Nico sent something to you, it was as if everything became a little bit more manageable.

You invited him over to hang out for a little bit, just to thank him for the things he’d done for you. You expected him to stay for a few minutes, maybe a half hour at the most, and then you’d send him home with some cookies you’d baked for him. Instead, he grabbed the plate of cookies and made himself comfortable on your couch.

“You just made these?” He asked with a mouthful of cookie as he picked up a stack of flashcards. You nodded as you took a seat on the opposite side of the couch.

“What’s the therapeutic drug level for theo… theoph…” he began to say, but trailed off, “Never mind. I was trying to help, but I can’t pronounce any of these words.” He ended the sentence with a chuckle before flicking the flashcard over to you.

“The word is theophylline,” you laughed, “and the answer is 10-20 micrograms per deciliter.”

“I understand none of those words, so that probably means it’s right,” he said as he finished his second cookie.

“If you want to help me I know something you can do,” you said eagerly, “And you don’t even have to speak, just sit there and look pretty.”

“That I can do,” he agreed with a nod and sat up to place the cookies on the coffee table. “Where do you want me?”

“Right there is fine. I’m just going to do a standard routine checkup like you’d get at the doctor’s,” you explained, grabbing your small bag of medical tools.

You ran through your procedure, checking your notes periodically to make sure you asked all the questions. Nico had no problem being your puppet, even answering some questions with ridiculous answers.

“And are you sexually active?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He asked with an eyebrow wiggle. You gave him an unamused glare.

“It’s part of the questions, dumbass,” you rolled your eyes and Nico laughed. “Never mind, I already know the answer anyway.”

“That was one time!” He groaned as he flopped his head back against the cushion. You were obviously referring to the one time you had a run in with one of his hookups. “I haven’t had anyone here since then.”

“Thank god for that,” you muttered, “but she did seem like a nice girl.”

Nico gave you a disbelieving look. You’d ran into them as you were returning from an overnight shift at nearly seven in the morning as Nico was trying to get rid of her, but she was hoping to get another date out of him before she left.

It was an awkward interaction to say the least, and Nico immediately called over to you to get your attention. The girl was displeased because you were interrupting their conversation and also because Nico had used you as an excuse to get out of scheduling another date.

“Oh, Y/N, you still needed me to fix that thing for you, right?” He had asked when he saw you walking down the hall. It took you all of two seconds to process the situation and Nico’s panicked and pleading eyes before you were agreeing. You even threw in the fact that it was urgent and that he needed to help right now, to which the girl gave you an eye roll.

Needless to say, Nico thanked you profusely for saving his ass and never called the girl again. That was over three months ago, and you had yet to see another girl leave his apartment.

“Well, I think I’m done with all the questions,” you concluded finally. “I think it’s safe to say you are in impeccable shape, Mr. Hischier.”

“Is this your subtle way of kicking me out?” He asked.

“Technically, I never invited you to stay. You kind of just sat here and made yourself at home,” you replied.

“I’m sorry for wanting to catch up with my friend after not seeing her in a week,” he joked.

“And you’re going to have to wait another few days for that, bud,” you chuckled.

“Fine, fine,” he conceded, “I’ll go, but I’m taking the cookies.”

“They were yours to begin with, idiot.”

-

On Thursday, you received one final package. It was a wrapped box, obviously done by someone who’s never wrapped a gift in their life. 

Opening it, there was Nico’s same scrawl on the familiar blue sticky note.

Something to look forward to after you ace this exam tomorrow!

Underneath the note was a ticket to a Devils game on Sunday against Vancouver, but it wasn’t the only thing in the box. You pulled out a red sweatshirt with the New Jersey Devils logo on the front. There was nothing on the back, but the number ‘13’ could be seen on both sleeves.

The thought of Nico sending you something with his number on it had your cheeks heating instantly. He’d been teasing you about coming to a game, and it seemed you finally had a reason to go now.

-

After you took your exam, it was like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Your school days were behind you now, and you could now start your career. The exam results still took six weeks, but you were feeling pretty confident in yourself.

Nico had texted you instructions to wait for him after the game on Sunday. He wanted you to try and meet him somewhere, but your navigation skills were terrible and you were sure to get lost in an arena you’d never been in.

So, you met him outside his car in the parking lot where the team parked.

“There he is,” you called out, clapping, when you saw him exit the arena, “First star of the night with two goals, Captain Nico Hischier!” You gave him your best announcer voice.

“Shut up,” he replied with a chuckle, but his face was beaming with a wide smile.

“Good game tonight,” you said with a smile of your own. “Trying to impress someone?”

By this time, Nico had reached the car, and he was dropping his bag on the ground before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground in a hug.

“I’m always trying to impress you,” he mumbled against your hair before he set you back down.

“Well, consider me impressed,” you gushed. 

“I was thinking...” Nico said after a moment.

“Uh oh,” you interjected with a worried look.

“Don’t be a dork,” he chuckled. “I was thinking that instead of going back home and making dinner I can take you out tonight instead.”

“Celebratory dinner for your win?” You questioned.

“And for your exam,” he added, “And also maybe as a date?” Nico said the last part quietly and quickly averted your gaze.

“Are you asking me on a date, Nico?” You asked for clarification, but the smile on your face was spreading wider as the seconds passed.

“Yes, I am,” he said with a deep swallow.

You squinted your eyes, as if in deep contemplation.

“Well, I’ve only been waiting, like, months for you to ask me,” you teased. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Really?” He asked, eyes bright as he reached out to pull you closer to his body. You hummed in agreement and connected your hands behind his neck.

“I was starting to think you’d never get the hint,” you said quietly.

“I was just waiting for the right time,” he insisted, hands resting on your hips, “And if I’m being honest, I really want to kiss you right now.”

You didn’t answer him in words. Instead, you pushed up on your tip-toes and leaned in to connect your lips to his. The kiss was soft, neither of you wanting to push too far too fast. He moved his lips against yours gently, taking his time to convey how he felt about you.

When you finally pulled back to catch your breath, you both had stupid looks on your face as you were both giddy with joy.

“Atta boy, Cap!” A loud voice shouted across the lot along with some hoots, and you let your head fall against Nico’s chest as you chuckled to yourself.

“Fuck off, Jack!” Nico yelled back before dipping his head down to kiss the top of yours. “Ignore him, he’s annoying. Let’s get out of here before they try and come over.”

“Lead the way,” you said, breaking apart so you could climb in his car. 

-

Six weeks later, your results came in.

You let yourself into Nico’s unlocked apartment. Ever since you started dating, it just seemed a lot easier to leave your apartments unlocked during the day so you could easily bounce between places.

“Nico, it’s here!” You exclaimed, spotting him on the couch. He looked up from whatever show he was watching and paused it immediately when he saw the envelope in your hands.

You basically sprinted across the room and plopped down onto his lap before shoving it into his hands.

“You open it, I can’t do it,” you murmured against the side of his head, your arms slinging over his shoulders as one of his arms wrapped around your waist.

Nico chuckled as he ripped open the paper and pulled out the letter.

“What does it say?” You asked, your head tucked into his neck so you couldn’t read the results.

“Babe…” he said softly, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” You asked worriedly, peeling yourself from his neck to read the letter yourself.

Congratulations! You have passed the NCLEX exam!

You didn’t even bother to read the rest of the letter once you’d read those first two sentences.

“You asshole, that wasn’t funny!” You said, pushing his head away from you as he laughed.

“I thought it was kind of funny,” he replied, “And now my girlfriend is officially a sexy nurse.” Nico pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

“You better get that idea out of your head right now,” you said warningly, already knowing where his thoughts were headed.

“All jokes aside, I’m proud of you, baby,” he said happily.

“I probably would’ve combusted from stress had it not been for your little gifts,” you admitted.

“What can I say? I was so whipped for you,” he said.

“You really were, weren’t you? The flowers and the sweatshirt with your number on it…” you teased, and he poked your side in retaliation.

“Kidding,” you giggled happily, “and I’m whipped for you, too, Nico.”

[mushroomates]

the fellowship as roommates:

frodo: probably one of the best roommates out there. keeps to himself, tidy, does his laundry quickly and doesn’t leave it in the wash for a week. the company he keeps inviting over are weird though and you wish he’d stop obsessing over his jewelry. there’s a ring dish by the sink he’s always being funny about.

sam: he has to stop bringing plants home. the amount of dirt where there shouldn’t be is getting ridiculous. will make bread for the household though, and that makes up for it. does his dishes and all the dishes in the sink frequently and genuinely enjoys the task. took over the decoration and homemaking instantly.

merry: has a massive candle collection that would be fire safety issue. it not, however, a fire safety issue because merry never lights them. he has discontinued yankee candles and various limited edition scents. it’s his pride and joy and he doesn’t ever want to burn them because he wants to keep them forever. once pippin lit his maple-bacon soy wax triwick 1998 and merry went nuts. aside from that, pleasant company.

pippin: his parents pay for his rent because he couldn’t be bothered to pay it on time, and the tooks really, really wanted their son out of the house. do NOT go in his room. has not done laundry ever and does not plan to. keeps dirty dishes in his hamper and under his bed. keeps buying new forks thinking you won’t notice.

boromir: pays his rent a day early. handles the bills and finances and just tell you how much you owe. very respectful about your space in the fridge. does his best to be quiet past 9pm. he does, however, carve wood over the carpet and splinters have become an issue. he vacuum’s but it’s seriously becoming a problem. also keeps inviting these weirdos over who try and eat all your food.

aragorn: keeps tanning hides in the living room. is never home because he’s always at his girlfriends place. brought a dehydrator into the mix and the house always smells like meat because he’s making jerky. he will share it though, which is nice:

legolas: is mildly afraid of the bathroom. keeps clogging the drains with copious amounts of shed hair. uses your shampoo when he thinks your not looking. eats all of the good food, and small bites out of pretty much everything. tracks dirt all over the carpet and has a thing for fairy lights.

gimli: historic weaponry is NOT home decor and why the hell would you keep it over your bed. he has to have his own bathroom which he keeps very specifically (the amount of products he uses for his beard is unreasonable). generally tidy, gets weird about organizing things by color and type and would rather you let him do it.

gandalf: hardly a roommate. sometimes you wonder if he still is living with you and then he’ll show up after months of ghosting you with a random horse and a new-differently colored hat. and he will explain more about the hat than the horse. no, gandalf, we can’t keep a horse in the bathroom. our landlord will find out. please shut up about your new hat.

gollum: fresh fish keep being left on your counter on the first of each month. they’re very much someone’s goldfish that keep going missing. once, a parakeet was left in your sink. your lost socks keep reappearing on your couch. sometimes shiny rocks and coins are placed next to your phone at night. four months in there’s a scratching in your walls and this fucker pops out. he’s been living off of your scraps for nearly a year and thinks you two are best friendsies! <3 he tries to plea that he’s being paying rent. someone call the cops. (sam comes over and shoo’s him out with a broom. it’s frodos weird friend from college.)

[zvdvdlvr]

to the heart

cred: @/cafekitsune

Being John’s wifewho is a badass cook and finally meets the team!!

     Your mother always said that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Being married to the one and only John Price could only further confirm her statement.

     John was a military captain- forming, training, and leading men and women into missions that could very well take their lives. As well as gain muscle and a family, military folk also gained an iron stomach. At least in John’s case.

     The way he casually scooped up half the lasgma in the big pan made you wonder how he had survived off of packaged meals. John just shoveled down mouthful by mouthful as you eargerly awaited his reaction. Making something John wouldn’t like is borderline impossible, but you wanted to make only the best for the man that protected you and your loved ones in ways you couldn’t even imagine.

     When John finally asked you if you’d be open to meeting the men he unofficially adopted, you were immediately filled with a mix of excitement and anxiety. Your husband had refrained from the gory details of the missions he preformed but entertained you with stories of his team goofing off or doing something impressive (John was more proud of those men then he let on and you could tell). He had told you that the way he had described your cooking had the men salivating.

     You had decided to make a classic meal on the evening they were to dine with you. A simple but tasty spaghetti and meatballs dish. For the side- recipe you’d seen from Instagram- you cooked up a dozen fluffy pull-apart garlic/cheese/butter muffins (all dishes were John approved, of course, he’s eaten everything you’ve made). You debated a salad, but figured you’d just offer instead of set out a bowl in case they didn’t want any lettuce or anything.

     John pulled you out of the kitchen when he heard the sound of an engine come closer to your secluded country-side home. “They already love you with the way I talk about you, love. Don’t worry your pretty little head,” he murmured, pressing a sweet kiss to your forhead as he les you out to the porch.

     Eventually you found out John was exactly right. You greeted everyone with a hug- which was surprising to you that Simon seemed to melt into you like he hadn’t felt a good hug in years because, according to the stories John told you, Simon was anti-touch. Kyle was a sweet young man and you could tell how mich he admired John. Johnny was a handful, you observed. He immediately started taking cracks at Simon after he pulled away from the bone-breaking hug he gave you and recieved a sharp punch to the shoulder.

     “Plates and bowls are right there. Silverware’s on the table,” you said, gesturing to the respective items. “Come on, J,” you said, urging your husband up from his spot at the table.

     John carried your plate and his in one hand and weapped his hand around your waist with the other. “Are you doing alright so far, love?”

     You nodded with a bright smile. You easily got along with John’s teammates and they seemed to get along with you. And you could only hope that they liked the food you made.

     Luckily for you, though, you didn’t have to wait long for your answer.

     You were sitting down in your seat beside John when you heard a noise that sounded like a gasp and a whimper.

     Two spots to your left, the fork in Johnny’s hands shook as he chewed.

     “Is- Are you okay?” You asked skeptically. You’d avoided using any foods you’d known they were allergic to, so what was the problem? Did he not like it? Did the spaghetti go bad? Were the meatballs moldy? Did you add the wrong spices to the pull-apart muffins?

     “Lass… I need you to send me ma this recipe. I don’t- this is- serve this at my funeral, cap, bury me in this,” he babbled as he shoved forkfuls of noodles into his mouth.

     You breathed a sigh of relief, incredibly grateful for Johnny’s compliment and reaction. You looked at Simon and Kyle. To your surprise they too practically licked their playe xlean before bouncing back up to get an even bigger heap of spaghetti.

     John watched you through moist eyes and soft smile. The way you fawned over his team like a mother duckling made his heart race in ways he didn’t know was possible for a man his age. He didn’t have to tell you how much he cared for Simon, Kyle, and Johnny. You knew because you always knew- even when John couldn’t form the words to say anything. Seeing you all interact made his heart swell. John felt complete; pure, even. At times he wasn’t sure if he deserved this small but solid family, but he knew he would fight tooth and nail to protect each and every one of you.

[witchybitchycrybaby]

Enemies in public, lovers in private

Davos Blackwood x Bracken!fem!reader

Warnings: smut, it's basically porn without plot, suggestive language, fighting

Words: 3k

Also this is my first ever attempt at writing 18+ content, I hope I did well

✨✨✨

It was a perfect day for another traditional clash between Blackwoods and Brackens. It wasn't too hot nor cold, it didn't rain at all and the sun wasn't shining in their faces, hidden behind clouds.

Maybe it was hiding because it no longer wanted to see the unresolved conflict between the two houses.

The air was thick with tension and hatred at the boundary line. Davos Blackwood, with a handful of his men, stood at the edge of their territory, the Red Fork River murmuring softly nearby. Opposite them, you and your brother Aeron approached, flanked by a few Bracken soldiers.

Your eyes locked with Davos' brown ones with a mix of frustration and longing. That was the only way you could communicate something more than insults without anyone paying attention to you. You blinked quickly, hiding every one of your feelings behind a cold, resentful mask.

"Blackwood," Aeron sneered, his voice, though a little bit unsure, was dripping with disdain he didn't even try to disguise. He then looked the dark haired boy up and down. "What brings you to our lands? Lost your way like a stray dog?"

Davis gritted his teeth at the insult. He took one step closer to where the bracken stood. “Just making sure you craven lot aren’t overstepping your boundaries, Bracken. Your family has a knack for moving boundary stones.”

"Funny thing, Blackwood," you barked back, his name a stinging venom on your tongue. "We were just discussing how often those stones seem to wander towards our side. Must be the wind, perhaps, or the dragons. Surely, you wouldn't have any share in that, would you?"

One of the Blackwood men, until now staying a pace behind Davos, took a step forward and looked at you with so much hate and anger you had to suppress a shiver. You stood still however; you would rather die than cower before them.

"Careful, you Bracken wench. Watch your tongue before we cut it out."

Before anyone could react, Aeron's face twisted with fury, and he drew his sword. His grip was however a bit uncertain. You really appreciated this, his want to always protect you. He was the more delicate one among the two of you, not suited for battle. And yet, he was very stubborn to prove himself.

You saw the way Davos' jaw tightened as his fingers gripped the hilt of his sword. Davos Blackwood instantly unsheathed his weapon, eyes trained on the blond boy. "Looks like little Bracken is shaking in his boots. Did your sister drag you out here to play knight?"

"I've got more honor in my little finger than you have in your entire body, Blackwood."

Davos stepped closer, his eyes darkening. "Honor? You wouldn't know honor even if it bit you."

With a war cry on his lips Aeron lunged at the Blackwood boy. The metallic sound of the sword struck the otherwise quiet air like a thunder. The clang of steel against steel echoed through the trees as they clashed with a fury borne of centuries-old hatred. Their hits were brutal and fast; their movements swift and well-practiced. You watched, your heart aching with every strike, knowing you had to play your part.

The fight was intense but brief. Both men landed a few cuts, blood staining their clothes but nothing fatal. As Davos prepared for another strike, you decided you were fed up with this fight and stormed between them, your eyes blazing with anger. You put a hold on both of their arms, stopping them from doing something they would later regret.

"Stop this, both of you, or I’ll take my sword and kill you myself,” you said with ice in your voice. Your gaze wandered from one boy to the other.

They both well knew you could and would do it; you weren't the one to make empty promises. They could play their little war all they wanted, but not on your watch. You'd faster claim a dragon than let them kill themselves over some stupid boundary stones.

Your grip on their arms remained strong until both of them lowered their swords. You could feel Davos' muscles twitching beneath your touch. He huffed with anger and wrenched himself from your grasp.

For a brief moment, Davos' eyes softened as he looked at you, but he quickly masked it with a scowl. "Listen to your little cunt of a sister, Bracken. Fuck off to your side of the river.”

As he walked away to his men, you tugged at your brother and pulled him to yours. He would bitch about it later, you knew it. But oh well, you'd take it.

Aeron glared at you enraged and also pulled his arm away from you. "What are you doing, (y/n)? They deserve to be taught a lesson."

"And you'll be the one to learn it if you don't back down," you retorted, your hand closing to the hilt of your own sword. "This pathetic Blackwood isn't worth the blood on your blade."

His jaw tightened but he had enough sense in his head not to speak.

You heard Davos sheathing his sword so you turned to him. There was a small cut on his cheek and your heartbeat quickened. He wiped the blood with the back of his hand and stared right into your eyes. You lifted your chin just a little and crossed your arms.

"Tell your men to stop moving the boundary stones, and we won't have to keep coming here to correct your mistakes."

"Perhaps if your men had the integrity to keep to their own lands, we wouldn't have this problem."

A scoff came from one of the Bracken men. "You're saying you have integrity, Blackwood?"

Davos smirked, you practically could see the glint of craze in his eyes.

"It's not us who's always trying to take more than what’s ours.”

The Blackwood and Bracken men exchanged hostile glances, muttering curses under their breath. You balled your hands into fists, your knuckles white.

"Enough!" yelled Aeron. "We'll leave your precious stones alone if you do the same."

There was a moment of silence on the hill. You knew how much Davos loved those little battles between your houses and that no matter what he might now say will stop them.

Finally, Davos gave a mocking bow, his dark eyes flashed with something very opposite to the want of truce. "Fine. But don't think this is over, Blackwood."

Aeron nodded curtly. "Wouldn't dream of it."

With that, Davos Blackwood shot you a final glance and ordered his friends to retreat. There was promise in his eyes that only you could understand. You watched them go, your heart thudding in your chest. You played this meeting well, your love-hate relationship still sealed and hidden.

"Next time, dear sister," Aeron hissed. "I won't back down so easily."

You sighed when he moved away. Maybe you won't stop him next time. Maybe you should just let them kill themselves and they'd be rid of this callow feud.

As the Brackens turned back to their lands, your thoughts lingered on Davos. Your love was a dangerous game, one that could cost you everything. But for now, you had survived another day, your secret safe for a little longer.

~•~

The Mill stood at the edge of Blackwood and Bracken lands, silent and dark, shrouded in shadows. It wasn't precisely a mill anymore, truth be told. Nobody used it, so it stood empty and alone.

And it was just perfect for Davos and you. The Mill became your sanctuary, its walls one of a very few confidants of your love and late-night trysts.

Davos waited inside, not daring to light any candles for fear of drawing unwanted attention. His breath was steady, but his heart racing. He knew you'd come. You always did.

He fixed his eyes on the wooden door when he heard the soft and cautious footsteps. Your footsteps. You quietly slipped inside, the door creaking when you closed it behind yourself. You barely had time to turn around and properly look at him before he surged forward, and in seconds was on you, pushing you against the rough wall. You yelped in surprise, but it was quickly swallowed by Davos' hungry mouth when his lips crashed against yours in a hard, desperate kiss.

You instantly melted into him with a fervent response. Your hands threaded through his silken, dark locks, pulling him even closer. His hands roamed over your clothed body, caressing the curves of your waist and hips, which he knew so well.

Finally, you broke the kiss, panting heavily, both completely out of breath. There was a string of saliva connecting your lips. You leaned back, resting your head against the wall.

"Cunt?" You asked rising an eyebrow. "I thought you'd have some more sophisticated terms up your sleeve, Blackwood."

He laughed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "My apologies. Had to keep up the appearances." he murmured, his voice anything but apologetic. He pressed a kiss to the column of your neck, and you shivered. "Would you prefer 'Bracken witch' instead?"

Your eyes narrowed in mock-serious resentment, but your body betrayed you, arching towards him. "Bastard." You whispered with a smirk on your lips. Just like that, he was forgiven.

He'd kneel if you'd asked. He would beg, and he wouldn't find any trace of shame it that. Seven Hells, he'd crawl if that was what you wanted. He'd do everything without a second to lose, because you were his Brecken. His and nobody elses.

"And you love me anyway." He gave you one more peck on the lips and grasped your hand in his. He pulled you further into the Mill, towards the makeshift bed of hay and blankets. As you moved, he kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

"I've missed you," he whispered, his hands moving to the laces of your shirt. You could feel his impatient fingers grazing over your sternum and stomach. You sighed with contentment when the material slid from your shoulders and fell to the ground.

"I hate how much I've missed you too," you admitted, your hands clasping his shirt and pulling it over his head.

Davos attacked your lips with a new wave of desire, he kissed you like a man starved, and you were the sweetest of fruits. His hands slid down your waist to the lacing of your breeches and slipped them off. He picked you up, and you crossed your ankles behind his back. His body was so hot; in every place you touched, you felt fire.

He laid you gently on the blanket and quickly discarded his own breeches somewhere in the corner. He then climbed on top of you, careful not to put his whole body weight on you. You opened your legs to accommodate him and you gasped when his half-hard cock brushed against your inner thigh.

"I was a bit disappointed seeing you fight today, Blackwood. I've seen better fighting from children. Do you train with toddlers in Raventree Hall?"

"You vixen," Davos rasped and bit your lip and didn't let go until he tasted warm metallic liquid on his tongue. "My fighting is better than whatever pathetic excuse for training do Brackens do. I bet even a blindfolded squire could best you or your brother."

His lips wandered down your body, leaving open mouthed kisses in their wake. Down the column of your neck, to your collarbone, and to your breasts. He eagerly took one nipple in his mouth, teasing it into hard peak. He then continued his ministrations on the other one, all while you were a squirming and whining mess under him.

You threw your head back and dug your nails deep into his shoulders when Davos put his hand between your heated bodies. He was sure that the marks you'd leave would stay on his back for quite a while. His finger travelled between your folds and stopped right at your entrance. You pushed your hips to seek any type of friction but he just released your nipple with a soft pop and shook his head, a crazed smirk on his face.

"You know, Bracken," he whispered slowly, leaning above you, his face mere inches from yours. "I used 'cunt' on purpose. Because yours is just divine.

And with that he thrusted one of his digits inside you. You moaned, and all he wanted to do was freeze the time and capture the sound in a bottle. His perfect Bracken, all pretty and pliant for him. He could do whatever he wanted to you, and you'd let him. His ethereal lover.

You buckled your hips once more when he pulled and pushed two fingers. In and out, in and out. He could see the unshed tears on your lashes when his thumb started to tease your clit.

"Fuck-.Davos..." You whimpered. "You lousy teaser."

He captured your lips in his again, a low groan escaped from him when your soft, warm walls started to tighten around his fingers.

"You are so eager, my dear Bracken, so unsated. You will come on my fingers and then I'll fuck you stupid, I promise."

And it didn't take long. He kissed you until both of you were breathless, and whispered sweet nothings into your ear; whispered how good you were for him, how good you were taking him, heaven-sent just for him to have and take care of. He pushed his fingers and continued his assault oh your clit until your legs started shaking. Your back arched into him, and with his name on your lips, you climaxed. And even after that, he didn't stop because that's what he was there for. To make you happy, to worship you, your body and the ground you walked on.

You panted when he removed his fingers and brought them to his lips. You watched as his tongue darted around them, licking up your juices.

"You will be the death of me, Blackwood," you moaned and kissed him hard. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it made your head spin. You locked your ankles behind his back to keep him in place. As if Davos would rather be anywhere else than right here.

"Will you give me another one?" He asked and positioned his cock right at your entrance. You shivered some more when you felt his already leaking tip tease and push at you. "Will you," he pushed more until he was inside your warmth. "be a good girl to me?"

You writhed beneath him and it made him swell with pride. He made that. He was responsible for this state you were in. His sweet, sweet girl.

"If you don't put it in right now, I'll do it," you blurted.

"As the lady commands." He grinned at you and bottomed out in one smooth thrust.

He groaned at the feeling and hid his face in the crook of your neck. He needed a moment to compose himself and not come right away. You were so warm and tight, he truly didn't mind dying like that, inside of you.

You gasped for air and looped your arms around his neck. One of your hands tangled into his hair, your nails scratching his scalp. Did you know how much he loved you? Did you know that he would kill for you? Gods, he would start a war in your name, all you had to do was ask.

Davos tightened his jaw and rolled his hips just a little. Both of you moaned in unison. You didn't believe in heaven or hell, but you sure knew that heaven was right here, with him between your legs and inside you.

"You chicken out, Blackwood? Are you just gonna lie there and look pretty, or will you move already?"

"I should've put this mouth of yours to a better use," he muttered but did as he was told. He pulled out almost completely and then thrust back in. Hard. You yelped and cried out in pleasure.

He did it again. And again. And again. It was a torturous tempo, and everything in him screamed to be faster and claim you already. But you were a brat today, a spoiled brat, and he wanted to punish you for it. Yet, your sweet mewling and moaning made him grit his teeth and go faster.

He placed his hands in the bend of your legs and brought them to your chest to give himself even better access to your pulsating core. You were so beautiful like this, so hauntingly beautiful he could cry. His Bracken, his, his, his and he accentuated it with each deep thrust he made.

You moved together, your tempo more erratic with each push. The world outside the walls of the Mill stopped existing; there were no more lands, no more Blackwoods and no more Brackens. There were just you and your desire.

Davos knew he wouldn't last much longer, and neither would you. He left open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck and collarbones until he felt the climax building up within himself. He could feel it in you too by how your walls were tightening around him. You had this serene, fucked-out expression on your face, your eyes glassy. And it tipped him over the edge.

You came together. His milky spent filled your insides, some starting to leak out as soon as he pulled out and turned around to lie on his back beside you. Your bodies were covered in a thin layer of sweat, the smell of sex filling the air.

You panted heavily for a while, and then Davos pulled you on top of him, your hair pooling around you two. You placed your head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

You then pulled yourself up and leaned on your elbows. Your smile was sated when you looked into his eyes, but it faltered when your gaze fell on the cut on his cheek. You gently traced it with your fingers.

"Does it hurt?" You asked softly.

But he just turned his head and kissed your wrist. "It's not bad. Blackwoods are tougher than Brackens, I assure you."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Stubborn as mules, more like."

"Maybe," he replied and caressed your cheek. "But we know what we want."

"And what do you want, Davos Blackwood?" You whispered leaning into his touch.

"You, (y/n) Bracken. Always you."

[sonnyangeluvrrr]

˚୨୧⋆｡just one bite

The aroma of Sukuna’s food wafts over to you, rich and tempting, and you can’t help but lean a little closer, curiosity getting the best of you. He notices, of course, shooting you a quick side-eye as you inch closer, a small pout forming on your lips.

“Can I just have one bite?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

He rolls his eyes, a smirk already tugging at the corner of his mouth. “No, I’m not going to give you a bite.”

“Why not?” you ask, crossing your arms and looking at him with wide eyes, playing up your innocence.

He raises a brow, leveling you with a look that tells you he’s not buying it. “Because I know you’re not gonna like it. Then you’re going to ask me how the hell I like it, and I don’t want to listen to that right now.”

You blink at him, a little taken aback but also amused. “Oh, so now you’re a food psychic?”

He huffs, leaning back in his seat and taking a deliberately slow bite. “I’m just smarter than you give me credit for. Go ahead and prove me wrong.”

Challenge accepted.

You reach over, taking a forkful of his food before he can stop you, lifting it to your mouth confidently. But the second it hits your tongue, the taste catches you off guard. The bitterness mixes with a heat that’s almost overwhelming, and you try not to make a face, swallowing it down as casually as you can manage.

Sukuna watches you with that knowing smirk, his eyes gleaming with amusement as you struggle to mask your reaction.

“Good?” he asks, a single eyebrow raised.

“…It’s, um, interesting,” you say, trying to salvage your dignity. “Definitely… bold.”

“Interesting,” he repeats, a chuckle escaping him. “Just say you hate it.”

You bite your lip, glaring at him half-heartedly. “Fine. How do you eat this?”

He shrugs, taking another bite with ease. “I guess I just have better taste.”

“Oh, sure,” you tease, “and what is that, acquired taste for terrible food?”

A low laugh rumbles from him, and he leans in, his voice dropping to a playful, almost challenging tone. “You’re the one who wanted a bite, brat.”

You can’t help but laugh, finally giving in. “Alright, alright. You win this one.”

He smirks, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he goes back to his food. But just as you’re about to turn away, he pauses, spearing another bite on his fork and holding it out to you.

“Here,” he says, his tone softening just a bit. “Try this piece. It’s not as bad as the last one.”

Surprised, you take it, feeling a strange warmth from the small gesture. The flavor this time is milder, easier to enjoy, and you give him an approving nod.

“See?” he says, looking at you with a rare, almost hidden softness in his eyes. “Maybe you just needed the right bite.”

And with that, he goes back to his meal, a faint smile lingering on his face as you sit there, heart pounding just a little faster than before.

[asunflowerana]

brownie bonding — Nanami Kento

summary: kento makes most of his quality time with his baby daughter.

warnings: pure fluff, dad!nanami, cooking.

wc: 800.

A warming melody of jazz echoes on the portable radio in the kitchen, filling the bonding moment perfectly. Nanami is just finishishing tying a cook’s apron around his waist, feeling a bit awkward to wear such a flowery print, but it was a request from his baby daughter. There’s no way he would refuse her. 

“You look pretty, daddy!” His sunshine compliments him, sitting in the high chair at the counter with her head covered by her tiny cook’s hat. She isn’t a kid that plays around: if she’s going to cook, she’ll wear the proper clothes for it.

Six years old, acting that way already. Imagine when she’s sixteen.

He can’t help but send her a fondly smile. One of the good things about having a kid is that you will always receive an honest answer from them. His little girl it’s saying he looks pretty, so maybe flower prints actually suit him. 

He moves his focus to the counter, checking the ingredients on display: sugar, butter, wheat flour, powdered chocolate, milk, eggs, chocolate chips. The mixer is set, the oven is heating up, and they have everything they need to start the day’s recipe:

Brownies

You’re on your way home from a business trip today, and they both came up with the idea of ​​surprising you with some brownies. In addition to welcoming you home with a delicious gift, Kento also takes this opportunity to spend more quality time with his daughter. She’s growing up so fast that he’s been feeling guilty for missing some moments of her life because of work. He wants to make sure that as long as he has time, he’ll make the most of it alongside her.

“Alright sweetheart, what’s the first step?” He claps his hands, giving her the task of leading and guiding them through the recipe. She bows to read the children’s cookbook she got for her birthday last year, and points her little index to the first illustrated step.

“We need to mix eggs with sugar.” She says, cautiously taking the mixer’s bowl and placing it in front of them. “Can I put them in, daddy?”

“You can, but you need to be careful with the eggs. Break this way.” He demonstrates to her, tapping the tip of the fork against the eggshell until it breaks a small part. He then opens it halfway, and pours the yolk and whites into the bowl. “Your turn now.”

Eri picks up another egg, and tries to imitate exactly what her father did, but ends up hitting the shell too hard, causing the egg to break right on the table and smear the wood with white and yolk. The dirt definitely doesn’t please her father, but he isn’t going to make a big deal of it. These things happen, even to adults, and he doesn’t want to make his daughter feel guilty about something like that. So when she looks at him with those fearful little eyes waiting for a scold, he starts to chuckle at the situation, making her visibly relax as the moment passes by.

They continue with the recipe, now with Nanami directly helping her put the ingredients into the bowl, and his heart warmed to see his daughter having fun cooking, her mini apron’s all dirty from chocolate. “Now we have to add the flour.” He takes the bag from the counter, and gives it to her. “Think you can do it, sweeheart?”

She nods eagerly, and starts pouring flour into the meter. A small amount of flour escapes, but she manages most part of the process, placing the measured flour into the bowl. “I did it!” She announces as soon as she’s done, a huge one missing tooth grin on her face.

Nanami smiles at his daughter’s delight, caressing the top of her head. “Yes sweetheart, you did it.” He presses the ‘on’ button on the mixer, and it starts to churn all the mixture into the bowl. The two watch together the mixture incorporate and become a smooth brown dough, which soon after was put on a platter to bake in the oven.

Since the brownie would take about forty minutes to bake, Nanami thought it would be a good time to give his sunshine a bath and get her ready before the sweet is done.

But his daughter has other plans in mind.

“Daddy, you have flour on your face.” She points in the direction, making him run his hand over his whole cheek. “No, missed.”

“Where’s it?” he asked, leaning his face close to let her clean it for him.

She puts one of her flour-covered hands to his nose, laughing when she sees the art she’s made on her father’s skin. “There.”

His first reaction is deadpan, not believing he fell for a six-year-old child’s trick. But he’s definitely not a quitter: as soon as she gets occupied laughing at his face, he places his hands on her sides and holds her, giving her a mischievous smile. “So this is how you want to play, huh? Very well, young lady… You shall be defeated.” He starts tickling her body, making her squirm and laugh even more. He releases her eventually, and the two soon start a big flour fight around the room, running and throwing flour everywhere.

Not only they’ll give you a brownie tray, but also a pretty messy kitchen to deal with afterwards. But you can’t deny that it’s worth the price. 

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved.

[cherryspider19]

jellyfish meta reader x yandere batfamily headcanons

bruce/batman- is very cautious on how reader stays in the mansion with them after their kidnapped. due to paranoia he would try to make sure you had everything you need to survive. also using using you poison to escape would be very. VERY. Hard. like he has a antidote and everything to work against your stings. last resort would be cutting off your stingers, but that's again that is a last resort. he is very gently with you, since he's afraid and hasher hands with you would hurt you badly. finds how you eat fascinating since your hair/tentacles bring the food to your moth to eat. does have to remind himself that you don't need a bath every time you eat. your room is right next to his. instead of a bed you sleep in a water tank, full of coral, soft sand, and rocks, and tech that alerts him to when ever you wake up.

dick- he constantly need bruce's antidote on hand cause he constantly getting stung trying to hug reader. personally he would have your stringers cut of instantly, if weren't for Damian and Tim. so he has to resort to head pats even though he wants to hug you so badly. your are grateful for Damian and Tim for letting your keep your stingers. not as gentle as bruce but does worry about hurting you if you guys play fight or rough house. finds how you eat odd. you have arms? why not use those? why let your hair grab your food and feed you. it confuses him. the others have to stop him from dragging you to bath after every meal. he is a little upset, that he cant cuddle you for family sleepovers (they have them in your room so you not left out)

jason- treats your head like a stress ball or toy. he likes to read to you as he squishes your head. ngl you find it a bit soothing like a head massage. doesn't mind your stingers. thinks their very cool, he's smart enough not to touch them unlike dick who wants constant physical contact. he also doesn't mind rough housing with you. doesn't think your fragile as bruce thinks. thinks the way you eat is cool and funny. cool cause it seems like you can control your hair at will. funny cause it unnerves dick. when its time for bed he throws you into your tank. bruce and dick constantly scold him telling him to be gentle. (he doesnt care)

tim- finds your very existences fascinating, he's studying you constantly. sometimes test you seeing if you could pick up bigger objects with your hair. so far you can only pick up tennis balls, forks, spoons, staplers, and 3 pieces of paper. he was the one that helped bruce make the antidote about your poison, vouched with damian for you to keep your stingers. he watches you eat before he even takes a bite of his food. he finds it amazing that you use your hair too eat. watches you sleep sometimes in your water tank, studies every twitch moment and breath you takes as your rest. sometimes hell fall asleep in your room on the floor because he studies you almost every night. unless one of the others pull him away from your room.

damian- he was the one that met you first and led you to getting kidnapped. you want to hold it against him but you don't. he did get stung a couple of times the first week you were in the manor, because you were still a little upset at him but stopped when he vouched for you to keep your stingers when dick wanted them removed. even if his family kidnapped you. you were grateful, he and Tim didn't let your stingers get removed. like Jason he doesnt treat you like glass, he lets you play with him and the pets, he braids your hair while wearing gloves to keep him from getting stung, and plays normal games with you. he has mixed feeling when you eat. on one hand how you eat is normal to you , you dont see the need to use your arms. on the other, he worries about your arms getting weak due to you not using them. but other than that he's just glad your eating. he does come in your bed room from time to time to watch you sleep. he just wants to make sure your safe in your tank in the manor, with your family. (notes: sorry if this isn't really well written, i'm not use to writing.)

[moonstruckme]

OOOOH Can i hop on the dr!rem train?!?! I would love to see how he is with someone who just doesn’t really take care of themselves. Like if something’s hurting they just power through. But of course he’s a dr so he’d know 🤔🤔💕💕💕💕

Ofc you can! This is precisely what I need him for haha. Also, when I wrote this my foot was still really hurting and now it feels tons better, so I think writing for him is healing me! Thanks for requesting my love <3

Doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Remus looks up from his laptop when you hold a bowl of pasta up in front of him enticingly. “Aw, thanks, sweetheart,” he says, taking it from you. He’s been so caught up in his paperwork he hadn’t even heard you bustling around in the kitchen, but you’d been thoughtful enough to bring him his dinner on the couch rather than call him to the table. “You’re too good to me. I’ll be finished here in a minute.” 

“It’s no problem,” you say with a smile. “Oh, I forgot I made you tea, too. Just a second.” 

You go back towards the kitchen, and Remus thinks to go back to his laptop for the interval of your absence, but something about the way you’re moving catches his attention. You’re walking oddly, shifting an almost imperceptible amount of your weight to one side. It’s not quite a limp, but there’s a stiffness there. 

You disappear into the kitchen for half a second, and Remus watches you carefully when you return. Your strides are as quick as if nothing were amiss, but there’s definitely something bothering you. It doesn’t look like the problem is in your foot, or your knee, but maybe your hip…

You pass him the tea, and Remus takes it quickly, chiding you for holding the hot part to pass him the handle. You roll your eyes as you sit, constantly discounting what you consider to be your boyfriend’s overcaution. You never worry about yourself, Remus thinks. Everything that happens to you is secondary, of little concern compared to whatever’s going on with everyone else. You don’t watch out for yourself, and you don’t always welcome others doing it for you either. It makes being someone who loves you an occasionally worrying task. 

“How was your day, dovey?” Remus asks, shutting his laptop to enjoy the meal you’ve prepared for him. “I’ve been so focussed on work I’ve barely talked to you since I got home. How are you doing?” 

Your smile is tinged with bemusement, but they’re not such odd questions as to draw much suspicion. “Don’t worry about it, I know it’s important stuff. I’m good, honey, how are you?”

“I’m good too,” he says, twirling pasta around his fork and inhaling the steamy aroma of the herbs you’ve mixed in. “Fantastic, now.” You blush, looking down at your own bowl. “Do much walking around today?” 

Now your brows furrow, and you bring your fork to your mouth, chewing pensively. “Some,” you answer after a while. “Why do you ask?”

“I just noticed you’re walking a bit funny,” he says as casually as he can, knowing too much attention will only lead to you belittling more than you’re already inclined. “Is there something bothering you, love?”

“Oh, yeah,” you say, looking back to your bowl as though forking your pasta suddenly requires your undivided attention. “Think I twinged something in my leg earlier. It’s not bad, it’s just one of those things, you know? I’ll wake up tomorrow and it’ll be fine.” 

It takes a heap of willpower to keep Remus from rolling his eyes. That’s your go-to reaction anytime something’s bothering you: power through and hope it goes away on its own. As someone who knows better, it nettles him incessantly. “Why didn’t you say something earlier? I might be able to help.” 

“Because it’s not a big deal,” you say through a mouthful. ��Anyway, you were busy.” 

“Never too busy for you,” he hums, setting down his plate to lean closer to you, and fine, he’s pandering. If making light of this is what’s going to get you to let him help, that’s what he’ll do. “Let me have a look?” he asks you sweetly.

You look at him, sucking a stray noodle into your mouth. “What, now?” 

“Sure,” he says, already moving to perch on the coffee table across from you. “Just to make sure that it’s fine and I don’t need to run to the drug store before it closes or anything.”

You sigh like you’re doing him a big favor. “Okay, but it’s really not bad. You don’t need to worry.” 

He hums noncommittally. “Straighten your leg out for me?” You do, and he takes your foot in his hand. “What part hurts, dove?” 

“Kinda, like—” You strain to lift one hip off the couch, touching the back of your thigh, “—like, all down here, ish.” 

Remus cocks his head. “Does it hurt when you flex your foot?” 

“A little,” you reply, nonchalant. 

He nods, standing. “Okay, I think I get the picture,” he says. “Lay down for me, please?”

You give him a deadpan look. “Rem, I’m just trying to eat.” 

“It’ll only take a second.” 

With an eye-roll that you make sure he sees, you set your plate down next to his on the coffee table, laying on your back. Remus sits by your feet, lifting one of your calves so he can see the back of your thigh. He runs a knuckle over the skin there, noticing it’s a bit more swollen than your other leg. “Here?” he asks you.

“Yeah.” 

Remus laughs silently at the sudden tight quality to your voice, thinking he knows the cause. He takes a detour to test his theory, migrating his touch further down until his knuckle skims the crease of your buttcheek. 

“Careful,” you murmur, tone slightly teasing. 

Remus tries and fails to suppress his grin as he forces himself back on task. “It looks like it’s your hamstring,” he says. “It’s a bit more swollen, but in a lot of cases there’ll be bruising too, and I don’t see any of that. Do you remember when you hurt it?” 

“Mhm.”

Remus decides not to question you further on that for now; he’ll lecture you on telling him these things more quickly later. “Did you hear any sort of popping noise?”

“No,” you say, sounding unsure. “I think I would’ve noticed, right?”

“You would have,” Remus reassures you, relieved. “It’s probably just a pulled muscle, then. I’m going to test it really quickly to be sure, okay?”

“Okay,” you say warily, and Remus has you flex your foot, taking your leg in both hands as he straightens it and lifts it upward. You hiss, and he stops. 

“That hurts?” 

“Yeah.” Your voice is tight again, now for the wrong reasons, and Remus lowers your leg carefully. 

“Alright, sorry.” He kisses your knee. “Well, at least it shouldn’t take too long to heal. I’ll get you an ice pack when we’re done eating, and I want you to elevate it and take ibuprofen.” 

You sit up, clearly ready for your boyfriend’s mollycoddling to be over as you grab for your bowl. “Already am,” you say with a smile that Remus supposes is meant to be reassuring. Instead, he frowns.

“Sweetheart.” He gives you an admonishing look. “You were taking painkillers for this and you weren’t going to tell me about it?” 

“Don’t be mad at me,” you say lightly. “I made you pasta.” 

Now it’s Remus who’s sighing laboriously, pressing a reluctant kiss to the side of your head. “I suppose that does make up for everything, doesn’t it?”

[suosteacup]

Pancakes ~redux~

pairing: Kozume Kenma x gn!reader

genre: fluff

wc: 0.8k

tw/cw: post-timeskip, food, Kenma and reader are newlyweds here, one swear word from Kenma, kitten as a term of endearment from Kenma to you.

a/n: a rehashed version of an old Kenma drabble I wrote on @/mrskodzuken. Thank you Mari @littleplantfreak for betareading this AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ilysfm 😘 Star dividers by @cafekitsune + support banner by @adornedwithlight 🫶🏻 tagging @pixelcafe-network

The whole house is quiet on an early Sunday morning, save for some tapping and cracking sounds coming from inside the kitchen. A soft plop! can also be heard as Kenma carefully discards a stray egg shell away from the pancake batter mix using a spoon. He then slowly pours fresh milk into a liquid measuring cup until it reaches the desired level, before carefully adding it to the mixture. Next, he picks a measuring spoon nearby, unscrews the cap off a bottle of vegetable oil, and adds two tablespoons of it into the batter.

It’s unusual for Kozume Kenma to wake up early in the morning, much less cook breakfast, but today is very special; the reason why he woke up earlier today is to make you breakfast in bed—after a month of saying “I do’s” to each other, to make your favorite kiwi fruit pancakes with love.

He remembers something you’d said almost a year ago, while having a friendly date at a cafe just beside Kuro’s office one early morning…

“You know, Kenken? When I get married, I’ll ask my husband-to-be to make me pancakes like this one day,” you say to Kenma as you take an IG-worthy photo of a plate of kiwi fruit pancakes drizzled—no, heavily soaked—in maple syrup on your phone.

“Ehhh… really? Well, good luck to him, I guess.” He looks at you with a shit-faced grin plastered on his face. “That ‘one day’ is going to turn into ‘one week’, ‘one month’, and so on—ow!”

“Zip it, Puddinghead. As if I would force him to make pancakes everyday, you know?” you tell Kenma poutily, waving a forkful of pancake in front of his face before stuffing it up to your mouth. “I’m not that cruel~”

He sighs in defeat and smiles sheepishly before taking a sip of his latte.

“Okay, okay, if you say so…”

After slightly mixing the batter, Kenma adds the minced kiwi fruit that he prepared earlier and whisks it in until fully mixed. He then proceeds to dip a ladleful of the batter into the preheated pan, quickly shaping some of the corners with a clean toothpick to resemble cat ears before the bottom side completely cooks.

“Cute,” he chuckles softly, looking proud of his ‘artwork’.

“It sure is…”

Kenma suddenly jumps from where he’s standing, his golden cat-like orbs widening. He slowly turns his head around to see you peeking over his shoulder, sleep still evident on your face.

Your husband holds his breath in for a second before letting it go as butterflies start fluttering inside his stomach. “H-hi, Y/N, my love. Morning.” Fuck. Kenma internally slaps his mouth after messing up his greeting.

“Hi, Kenma, my love… g’morning~” Kenma feels your arms snaking around his waist as you snuggle closer to him from behind. He notices you looking at what’s into the pan and—Kenma finds this adorably endearing—your eyes twinkle as they widen a bit, sleepiness a thing of the past.

“Pancakes! And they’re cat-shaped, too!”

He hums and smiles, slightly checking the bottom side for any signs of browning before flipping the cooked side of the pancake with a spatula. Bringing his free hand to gently pat your head, he says in a matter-of-fact voice, “Did I also mention that they’re kiwi fruit pancakes?”

“Huh? Kiwi… fruit?”

Kenma feels your embrace around his waist getting a bit tighter. His cheeks gradually heat up as he silently continues on making another pancake, with you still hugging him.

He finally speaks in a soft voice. “Um… y-yeah. Because you told me to make one for you when we get married one day…”

“Oh. That conversation we had at the cafe that time…” You smile, both of you fondly remembering the memory.

“Yeah.”

Kenma silently cooks the remaining pancakes, the only sound heard in the kitchen is the slight sizzle of the pancake batter cooking. He feels your weight shifting from behind, strands of your hair tickling the side of his neck. He wonders if you can still feel his heart beating loudly just as he can feel yours.

“Y/N, kitten? Still sleepy? I’m almost done here, you should sit down and wait for me. Then we can eat breakfast together—“

A sniffle. “Thank you.”

“For what?” He then glances at your small form in alarm before quickly turning your attention back to the last piece of pancake, bringing the pan to a big plate sitting nearby before tilting it down, the cooked pancake sliding off and on top of the stack. Kenma turns off the stove. “Y/N… are, are you crying?”

You snuggle closer behind your husband again in reply—Kenma can feel a slight wetness forming at the back of his shirt, accompanied by a few sniffles and chuckles.

“Thank you for remembering. Thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for loving me, all my flaws and strong points. Thank you for marrying me. My bestest friend in the entire universe. My love. My everything… I love you, Kenma.”

Kenma holds your hand and kisses it softly, smiling. “I love you too, my Y/N.”

And he really loves you back. More than everything in the world.

Likes are okay, reblogs are nice, reposts and plagiarism stuff are frowned upon 🥰 | ALL WORKS BY SUOSTEACUP © 2024

[beenbaanbuun]

different types of dates with ateez

kim hongjoong - studio date

he loves producing but he also loves you and sometimes he has a little trouble balancing the two

absolutely thinks he’s a genius when he realises that he can just combine the two instead and take you to his studio

he loves to sit you on his lap whilst he works, answering all your questions with a pretty smile

will order food to the studio and ask (beg) one of the members to collect it for him so neither of you have to leave the romantic haze you seem to be stuck in

you feed him while he works, pressing mouthful after mouthful to his lips before using the same cutlery to feed yourself

“what does this button do?” you ask as you lean over to point at a circular one that sits just left of his hand. he quirks a brow at you, a smirk sitting pretty on his lips.

“do you actually want to know? or are you going to zone out again like last time?”

park seonghwa - lego date

it’s an incredibly cute concept in theory, but i feel like seonghwa would take over a little when it came to building the lego

you’d have to come up with some sort of system to make sure it’s fair like doing one number on the instructions each before passing it over

either that or the two of you do separate lego sets on opposite ends of the table (which he hates because the pieces get mixed up)

if he sees you do something wrong whilst it’s your turn to built, he doesn’t say anything but gently corrects you with his hands instead

displays it next to his bed and stares at it when he misses you a lot

“there’s a pink piece missing somewhere, seonghwa,” you mutter as your fingers card through the left over pieces that your boyfriend was trying to sort into organised piles.

“well maybe if you let me sort them out, you’d be able to find it easier…”

jeong yunho - city date

he loves exploring cities whilst he’s got your hand tightly grasped in his or a strong arm wrapped around your waist

definitely has a long list of places that he picked out for you, and after each activity he sits you down and gets you to choose the next one

loves taking you on the public transport because more often than not it’s a tight squeeze and he gets to hold you close

lots of stops at cafes in between activities where he’ll definitely buy your coffee

and if he buys you a pastry he won’t actually let you feed yourself because why would you when he’s around to feed you instead?

“i can feed myself, y’know,” you giggle along with yunho as he pressed yet another forkful of cake to your lips. your complaints don’t stop him as he breaches you lips with it.

“why strain yourself when you have a boyfriend to do it for you?”

kang yeosang - aquarium date

he takes you there because he thinks it’ll be calm and romantic but actually there’s actually screaming children everywhere

not that he really minds because the moment he sees your face light up at all the fish, all thoughts of having a calm date slip out of the window

lets you drag him around to each and every tank and listens very intently as you tell him which fish you like best

the two of you name the fish together; you name the cutest one yeosang and he finds the weirdest looking one and gives it your name

you tell him he’s being mean, but he’s quick to shut you up with a kiss

“look at that cute little epaulette shark,” you squeal as your hand shoots out to grab at your boyfriend’s. you’re too focussed on the fish to notice that he hasn’t taken his eyes off of your face the entire time.

“cute, indeed…”

choi san - gym date

he lets you know that you don’t have to go to the gym with him, but you insist on the fact that you want to

you actually just want to stare at him as he works out, which he works out pretty early on when you zone out watching him do bicep curls

it’s a mutual thing though because he absolutely almost drops to the floor when you start doing squats in front of him

the whole date is just you two going back and forth to see who’s going to break first

it’s him and it only takes like 20 minutes because he’s a man after all, and seeing you in those little gym shorts it’s enough to drive him insane

“bet you can’t sit there in silence while i do this,” you poke fun at him as you grab a pair of medium weight dumbbells and begin to squat. you don’t have to see him to know where his eyes are focussed.

“why would i stay silent when i can tell you how hot you are instead?”

song mingi - bed date

it’s exactly how it sounds - the two of you lay in his bed in pyjamas doing absolutely nothing all day long

although you do actually do stuff, but you just do it all in bed with the exception of sending mingi to pick up the take out

he brings it up to the bedroom and lays a blanket out across the sheet

the two sit on it like you’re having a picnic whilst mingi finds a nature documentary to put on so he can ‘create a vibe’

whatever vibe it is, you’re not sure, but you find it cute anyway and you’re more than happy to follow along with his weird suggestions

“the picnic i can cope with, but the bird sounds?” you get cut off by mingi shoving a piece of salmon maki between your lips to silence you. you chew on it gently, trying your hardest not to laugh when a pigeon starts cooing.

“it’s for the atmosphere, sunshine… the vibes, y’know?”

jung wooyoung - hair dye date

the two of you, in his bathroom, surrounded by the smell of chemicals and the feeling of a bleach burnt scalp…

it doesn’t sound romantic at all but as he massages the pink dye into your hair with his fingers, you can’t help but relax against his touch

he refuses to get his own hair dyed because he ‘doesn’t trust you’ and ‘doesn’t want the stylists to yell at him’

but he does get in the shower with you when it’s time to wash your own dye off

and after he’s done washing your dye away, he bends down so you can wash his hair too, even if there’s no dye coating the stands

“there’s either shampoo or hairdye in my eyes, jung wooyoung,” you grumble as you desperately rub at them with the heels of your hands. he rolls his eyes and pulls your hands away from your face.

“i’m not the one doing my hardest to rub it in to your eyeballs, though, am i?”

choi jongho - basketball date

literally in the dead of night he drags you out to the park nearby to play on the courts

he says it’s because it’s ’romantic under the moonlight’ but you’re pretty sure he just likes it when he has the court to himself

even if you’re proficient at basketball, he’ll find some excuse to come up behind you and wrap his hands around yours to ‘correct you’

you actually end up playing worse after his ‘corrections’ but that just gives him even more of an excuse to invade your personal space to help

you end up playing a match together but he keeps playing dirty by kissing you and then claiming ‘there’s no rules against it!’

“i know how to shoot a basket, idiot,” you giggle as jongho positions your arms from his spot behind your back. he’s pressed in close as he puts the ball into your hands.

“i’m not so sure, baby… you definitely look like you need my help.”