#cinnamon-hued

[the--king--in--yellow]

Spotify playlist for July 2023

Kayra - Ummet Ozcan

Worst Is On Its Way - Korn

Ghostflowers - Otep

The Man - Cinnamon Babe ft Otep

Vicarious - Tool

Elisa Lam - SKYND

Something In The Way - Nirvana

Thoughts & Prayers - Motionless In White

Set Fazers - Skindred

Black Thunder - The HU ft Daniel Laskiewicz of Bad Wolves & Serj Tankian

One Of Us Is The Killer - The Dillinger Escape Plan

Pisces - Jinjer

Lords of War - Otep

Le Manu - Shepherds Reign

[karnakian]

@dcviated​  asked  :   Leons favorite fall drink please respond

‘  looking  to  get  on  my  good  side  ?  how  very  astute  of  you.  i  suppose  i  like  mulled  wine  well  enough.  i’ve  always  been  of  the  opinion  that  these  chilly  months  beg  for  a  kick  of  spice  to  keep  you  warm,  wouldn’t  you  agree  ?  spiced  cider,  hot  chocolate  infused  with  chili  peppers  ...  ’

‘  ...  there  used  to  be  a  rather  popular  drink  made  primarily  from  chickpeas,  tomatoes,  and  spices.  the  merchants  would  set  up  their  shops  around  the  main  square  every  winter,  and  they  would  sell  it  at  every  stall  ...  ’

‘  ...  well  ?  what  are  you  waiting  for  ?  get  to  it.  ’

[meid4]

it's still a work in progress but i really like to discover bands so i wanted to share my discovery's so far ^^

(some artists i knew beforehand but didn't want to saturate the playlist with only their songs)

[pandorxxx]

Watch and Learn

Neteyam (23), Lo’ak (22), Jake (Too damn old but we love a good dilf😮‍💨) x omatikayan fem reader (21)

[it took me 4 cinnamon pop tarts and the entire HSM 3 album to write this😌. I got to the good part when “a night to remember” came on😎]

Tags: @touchedflowers helped with this storyline. Love you girlyyy🫶🏽❤️

🔞Minors, do not interact🔞

Warnings: SMUT THE HOUSE, p in v, squirting, cumming, cursing, hair pulling, orgasms (multiple)

“Where the hell are those boys.” Jake whispered to himself as his sons were late to the war party meeting, yet again.

“Should we just start without them?” Norm questioned, as he looked out into the crowd of warriors. Jake sighed, looking around before he spoke.

“I’ll go find them, just keep the warriors here! I’ll be back.” He commanded as he walked off to find lo’ak and Neteyam.

It had been around 20 minutes since Jake decided to go look for his sons, with no luck.

“I am going to kill them, I swear to G-“ he stopped in his tracks when he heard faint whimpering and screaming. He snapped his head towards the sound, noticing that it was coming from your hut.

“Shit…y/n!” Jake shouts, running towards the hut.

“Y/n, are you hu- what the HELL is going on in HERE??!!” Jake stopped in his tracks with a shocked look as he watched the scene infront of him:

Y/n, sitting on the table, completely naked as lo’ak stood between her legs. Neteyam, fondling her breasts harshly. The boys look up, scrambling to get their cloths back on.

“We- i” Neteyam starts, getting cut off.

“We- i, my ass! I thought she was dying, but you two knuckleheads are just in here trying to kill her I see.” Jake started with his hands on his hips.

“Why do you have her on the table like that, boy? That’s not the right angle! You’ll never get her to cum in that angle! We talked about this!” Jake explained, gesturing angrily.

“Yes, sir.” Lo’ak says sharply as he picked you up, placing you on the ground. Jake shakes his head before snapping his head at Neteyam.

“And what the hell were you doing, boy? Squeezing her breasts like that? What have I always told you?” Jake shouted, pointing his finger at an ashamed Neteyam.

“Tease ‘em, don’t squeeze ‘em…” he answered, barely above a whisper.

“That’s right!” Jake nodded, snapping his head at your small frame as stood between his sons.

“Y/n, how were they treating you, babygirl?” He asked, looking into your innocent eyes, as you swayed back and forth.

“Uhhh, they were fine.” You nod, covering your chest with your arms.

“Fine.” Jake smirked sarcastically, darting his eyes between the two boys.

“How in the absolute HELL were you two just fine….THERE ARE TWO OF YOU FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.” He gestured angrily, shaking his head.

“Let me show you two knuckleheads something.” Jake said, walking over to you. You couldn’t help but blush, smiling in your hand before meeting jakes eyes. You almost broke your neck trying to stare at him, as he towered over your small frame. He picked you up with ease and placed you on the table. The boys watching their dads every move. He placed you on the table, and turned it so that the boys could see everything.

“First of all…never EVER put her in this position again. If you want to fuck her like this, she has to be on the wall so her back is supported.” He explained sternly. The boys nodded in agreement.

“if you want to make her cum…” he started, taking you off of the table, turning you around so that your ass was on his already throbbing cock.

“You wanna put her like this.” He bent you over slightly, holding you by the bends of your elbows.

“Now if you want her to squirt” he picked you up by your hair, making you whimper. He grabbed the back of your thigh, placing it on the end of the table.

“You put her in this position, got it?” He snapped his head at the boys, as they nodded in unison.

“Good, now let me show the difference.” He put you in the previous position as he untied his loincloth, letting it drop to the ground. Your eyes widened at the feeling of his tip rubbing against your clit.

“You don’t just shove it in, you tease her first, and then….” He slowly slid into you, making your mouth fly open at him filling you to capacity.

“You slide it in, slooooowly” he explained, placing one his huge hands on your hip. He looked at his sons to meet their attentive gaze, before looking down at you.

“How you doing, sweetie?” Jake asked you, pulling your hair out of your face.

“F-fine, sir!” you grunt, trying to get used to his size, as his sons were no where near the size of him.

“You always wanna check on her, making sure she’s ok. What’s the fun if you’re hurting her? Or she’s not into it? Like watch this.” He thrusted into you slowly, causing you to let out a light moan.

The boys watched you, getting aroused all over again.

“It’s all about the angles, too. The sweetspot is upwards, so you wanna thrust upwards, like this.” He angles his hips, thrusting up into you, making your eyes roll back, letting out the prettiest moan.

“You keep doing that, and she’ll cum in no time.” He started to thrust into you, fast and deep. You were a mess under him, as he continued to hit your sweetspot.

“FUCK!” You shouted, filling your high coming already.

“Watch your mouth, y/n!” Jake growled as he slapped your ass, thrusting into you at a steady pace.

“I-I’m sorry, sir!” you whimpered, as you shut your eyes tightly.

“If you really wanna get her off, just talk her through it. Tell her what she wants to here!” He shouted over your loud moans. He bent down to your ear, kissing it.

“You like when your leader fucks you sensless ,huh?” He whispered in your ear, nibbling on it. Your mouth flew open, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Mhmmm!” you hum with your bottom lip in your mouth. Jake kissed your neck before pinning you back to the table. You felt like you were about to explode.

Neteyam and lo’ak were both jerking off watching you become an absolute mess. Desperately waiting to get a turn.

“If you do everything that I tell you, she should-” he was interrupted by you screaming as you convulsed on his cock. He looked down to see his cock covered in your cream.

“Cum…” he chuckled, slowing down his thrusts to help you ride out your high. You were panting heavily as you tried to catch your breath. You were laying flat on the table, completely exhausted. Jake rubbed your back, comforting you.

“Now, it’s time for the main event.” He lifted you up by the back of your neck, putting your leg on the table. He lined his cock up with your throbbing cunt before sliding in slowly again. You threw your head back on him, crying out loud.

“I know, I know, you’re alright.” He tapped your stomach in an attempt to calm you down, before thrusting into you, at a steady pace. He wrapped his arms around your small waist, angling his thrusts upwards. You felt your high coming again, but more intense.

“Right when you feel her clench around you, that’s when you rub her clit.” He reached around to demonstrate. Your knees buckle, as the pleasure became too much. You scream out loud, as your eyes rolled back. You felt the knot in your stomach unravel as you squirted everywhere.

Neteyam and lo’ak’s eyes widened at your intense release.

Jake pulled out of slowly, as your juices ran down your legs. You were still shaking from your orgasm, laying on the table to calm yourself. Jake looked down at you, and then back at the boys, putting his hands on his hips.

“Ok, both of you pick one position, and make her orgasm. You can pick any method, I don’t give a damn, Got it?” He looked between the two boys, as they looked at each other.

“Neteyam, you go first boy.” Neteyam nodded, walking over to your limp body. He looked back at his dad, not knowing what to do with you in this state.

“She’s fine, just alittle tired. You got this, don’t be nervous, boy!” Jake clapped, before resting his hands on his hips again.

Neteyam looked back at you, leaning down to your ear.

“Uhhh, y/n? are yo-“ neteyam was cut off by lo’ak laughing.

“Dad, you should’ve let me go first. He’s being a wuss!” Lo’ak gestured towards Neteyam.

“Hush, boy!” Jake shouted at lo’ak. He snapped his head back at Neteyam with a disappointed look. Neteyam sighed, knowing what he had to do. He didn’t want to wear you out, but he didn’t want to disappoint his father either.

He grunted loudly before pulling you up by your hair. You yelped in pain, holding onto his arm.

“That’s what I’m talking about, boy! You got it!” Jake shook his fist, watching Neteyam to see what he would do next.

“I’m sorry, y/n….” neteyam whispered in your ear before sliding into you slowly. Your eyes widened, as you bit your lip. He gently shifted his grip from your hair to the folds of your arms. He thrusted up into you slowly, trying to take it easy on you.

“Mmmmm, don’t stop!” You moaned, letting your head go limp. Neteyams eyes widened at your response to his thrusts, making him speed up his pace.

“Yes!!! Yes!! yessss!!!” You cried as you felt him repeatedly hit your spot. He bit his lip, leaning down to your ear.

“You look so pretty, moaning on my cock.” He whispered, licking your ear lobe. Your eyes rolled back as you felt your high approaching quickly.

“That’s it, boy!” Jake shouted as he watched his oldest son dominate you, like a real man is supposed to.

“NETEYAMMMM” you whined, reaching to grab his hand. He intertwined his fingers with your as he clenched his jaw, watching you come undone on his cock. He looked down to see your cream covering his cock. He slowed down, letting you ride out your high.

“Like a real warrior! That’s what I’m talking about, boy!” Jake shouted proudly.

Neteyam pulled out of you slowly, gently laying you back down on the table, before walking away. Jake patted him on the back, followed by clapping.

“Ok lo’ak, it’s your turn, boy!” Jake motioned for him to step up. Lo’ak smirked at Neteyam before walking off.

“You made her cum, how cute. Now watch me make her squirt, dumbass!” He shook his head, walking towards your limp body with such confidence. He reached you, immediately pulling you up by your hair, placing your leg on the table .

“Ok, boy! Bold move, trying to make her squirt. Don’t get discouraged if she doesn’t, it takes a lot of practice.” Jake explained to lo’ak, but he wasn’t listening. He knew he was gonna have you screaming in a few.

He slowly slid into you, making you hum at the emptiness in you being filled for the third time. He started off slow, thrusting up into you. Your hums rapidly turned into loud moans as you felt him hit your spot repeatedly. He got carried away, grabbing you by your neck from behind, speeding up his pace.

your mouth flew opened, as you felt your high coming for the forth time that night. You gripped the hand wrapped around your neck as a tear fell on your cheek.

“Good job, boy! Now rub her clit, she’s over the edge!” Jake shouted

Lo’ak massaged your clit, causing your knees to buckle. He held you up with one arm wrapped around your tiny waist. He leaned down to your neck, leaving hickeys before he made his was up to your ear. His fangs grazed your earlobe before he spoke.

“Squirt…” and on command, your whole body shook violently, as you screamed his name. You squirted all over his stomach and thighs. He thrusted up into you slowly, making you shake with every stroke.

“SHIT!!” You panted, biting your lip. He pulled out of you slowly, watching your juices fall to the ground, trickling down your legs. He let you down gently before walking away.

“Goddammit, boy!!! That’s how you do it!!” Jake shouted, turning towards the boys.

“I’m proud of both of you!!! Good job!” he smiled, before looking back at your almost lifeless body. He chuckled as he watched you twitched occasionally.

“Now, get her cleaned up, and get to the damn meeting!” He shouted putting his loincloth back on, before walking out of the hut.

The brothers looked at each other, and stared back at you, laid across the table.

“Do you think she’s ok?” Neteyam asked, still staring at you. Lo’ak stared at you before speaking.

“I’m not going to lie” lo’ak started with a sarcastic grin, as he looked back at Neteyam.

“I have no idea, bro…”

Okayyyy, this low key good mannn, i like it a lot.I’m veryyy surprised that I haven’t seen more fanfics with all 3 of them but hey, I like to be first anyway😎. I will be working on other suggestions throughout the week so look out for that. Anywaysss love y’all, and I’ll see y’all later.

Outtie ❤️🖖🏾,

Pandorxx

[mistydeyes]

141 boys and your oddly specific hobby

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summary: Most people have hobbies like drawing or bird watching, however, yours are more unique. Regardless of your odd interests, the 141 still loves you, their quirky significant other!

pairing: 141 x gn!Reader

warnings: swearing

a/n: By popular vote, this won so please enjoy :)

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Price - matchbook collecting

When you first met Price, it was when you both dipped your hands into the matchbook jar. The jar sat at the host stand of a dive bar and you both happened to go for it at the same time. Although, you two had different motives. Him, because he forgot his lighter, and you, because you wanted to add something else to your collection. He wouldn’t pass up on a pretty face who he presumed also smoked, so he invited you for a light. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were just a collector so you joined him outside.

What started as a quick smoke ended up being two hours of witty conversation. As your pleasantries turned into various topics and ramblings, you were glad you finished the cigar quickly, trying to emulate the mature man’s actions. He vaguely talked about his occupation, a high-ranking military man, and you talked about your non-comparable, boring civilian life. However as the late night hours slowly approached, you wrote your number on his matchbook and thanked him for the cigar and friendly chat.

On your next date, you revealed your odd hobby to Price. “I’ve been collecting them as a child. It’s like collecting snow globes from different destinations but much easier to display and transport,” you said as you both leisurely sipped your drinks. “And to think I thought you were out for a smoke, good thing I left my lighter that day, Love” he replied and gave you a subtle wink. You eventually showed him pictures of your growing collection, recounting where each one was from and showing him some of your favorites.

Soon everywhere he went, Price noticed the unique matchbooks. It started with pocketing a matchbox while he was in Amsterdam and grew slowly. Soon he would start a collection of his own, bringing them home to you with a story of where they each came from. After what seemed like 30 matchbooks in Price's collection, the 141 took notice. “Captain, you some pyromaniac or something,” Soap joked. “Just for my partner, weird collection of there’s” Price responded and no one questioned him further. Although, he still keeps the matchbook that has your number on it in his collection.

Soap - soap making

“You’re never gonna believe me, but I make soap as a side business.” Soap thought it was a joke at first, something to make him laugh when you first met. But when he entered your flat, he was shocked at how honest you were. Your walls were filled with shelves lined with every scent known to man along with hundreds of designed soaps. It smelled like a Lush store when he walked in and he marveled at your creations.

You watched him bask in the glory of the soap for a moment as you laughed heartily. "I told you so," you said as he went about sniffing each one and examining them. You organized them by scent and interrupted him as he approached the floral section. "Having fun there, Johnny?" you asked and he looked up at you as he held one of your rose-scented creations in his hand. "Can't believe this," he said and you smiled as he continued. Eventually, after he had smelt every single bar, you took him into a room where you were working on some new items for your fall collection.

"You have more!" he gasped and went to examine the bars of soap in their molds. "My Autumn collection," you said proudly, "here come smell this one." You led him to a table that housed an orange-hued soap slab with leaves delicately placed throughout the hardened bar. He held the slab in one hand and placed it up to his nose. His eyes lit up as a mix of cinnamon, nutmeg, and pumpkin filled his nostrils. "Smells like a pie," he joked and you showed him various others.

For his return from deployment, you had a surprise. You had spent weeks perfecting this formula and finally were satisfied. As you walked to his flat, you gently tugged on the striped ribbon that tied the parcel together. When he opened the door, he noticed the box in your hands and ushered you in. He excitedly tugged the ribbon off the box and opened it. He gasped when he saw two bars in the colors of the Scottish flag lying on a pile of recycled confetti. "What's this?" he asked and you motioned for him to turn the bars over and smell them. As his calloused hands turned the soft bar over, he noticed the packaging said "The Scotsman." He smiled widely as he placed them both up to his nose, taking in the smells of rain and pine. You swear you could see him tear up when he said, "Reminds me of my own home."

After this, he insisted you mass produce these bars of soap for his friends. You sheepishly did so and when you presented it to the other 141, Gaz loudly remarked, "He's finally done it, Soap is now a bar of soap." 

Gaz - raising butterflies

He had heard about people having pets—even raising chickens but never butterflies. Your house was a sanctuary, filled with small enclosures of cocoons along with various flowers for your butterflies to suck nectar from. When he entered your house, it was like that scene where Alice first sees all the flowers in Wonderland. He felt like a child, seeing all the gorgeous wings floating around the room. He saw a delicately monarch land on a peony and approached it quietly.

"Here hold out your finger like this," you said and showed him how to stand gently and hold out his pointer finger. As he followed your actions, the butterfly gently landed on him. He looked in awe at the insect and you stealthily took a picture of him. The rest of the afternoon, you described to him what flowers butterflies like best and the lengthy process of tending to them before they reached metamorphosis.

Whenever Gaz was on deployment, he would always visit to relax in the butterfly sanctuary. He loved watching as you tended to the flowers and gently fed the butterflies sugar water. Even when he was on a mission, he would be sure to ask about some of his favorite butterflies, even going so far as to name them. "How's my girl, Cressia, doing?" he asked over FaceTime as you walked to find the Great spangled fritillary amongst the zinnias. "Here she is!" you exclaimed and pointed the camera at Cressia, a gorgeous butterfly with golden yellow wings. You could hear someone snicker in the background but Kyle didn't care as he continued to take screenshot after screenshot.

For your first anniversary, Kyle was unfortunately deployed and couldn't celebrate with you. This didn't stop him from showering you with gifts. As you sat in the conservatory, you could hear the doorbell ring. You emerged to find the postman holding two boxes for you, one smaller than the other. You took them inside as you delicately opened up the larger package. Inside, was a note describing the care for 23 painted butterflies along with rows of small cocoons. You smiled as you read the instructions and went to place the new members into their homes. After you got them settled, you opened the small box to reveal a necklace with a small butterfly charm carved from a pearl. A note inside read, "Happy anniversary, now you can carry a butterfly with you anywhere you go."

Ghost - bookbinding

When you first invited Simon over he was quick to notice your many bookshelves all lined with books of the same aesthetic. He knew some of these were Penguin clothbound Classics but was certain they hadn't bound The Hunger Games in their unique cover. As he held The Harry Potter novels and My Year of Rest and Relaxation in his hands, he silently contemplated if he had missed a few years and these were published classics. You came into the library with two glasses and laughed at his bewildered gaze. "You discovered my little hobby, Simon," you joked and offered him a glass. As he sipped on The Paper Plane cocktail, you recounted how you would spend your free time rebinding books that didn't match your aesthetic. "It took me a while but having a matching library like this one is worth it," you said and waved your arm to the rows of books, all with a unifying factor.

As you entered into a long-term relationship, it was clear Simon loved your hobby and indulged in it. Every time he visited, he insisted on bringing you the few books he owned to create Penguin Classic-like covers. From military manuals to a vintage copy of The Art of War, you quickly rebound them and presented him with his new book. He even told you that some of his colleagues had complimented your handiwork. You always blushed in response, citing your eye for design as the cause of all the madness.

Eventually, Simon gifted you with the paperback Penguin Classics. You opened the door to see him carrying a pile of books in his arms. You quickly ushered him to the library where he set them all down on your vintage leather couch. "For the person, that has everything," he said and you went to examine all of the books. He had seemingly bought out the whole collection as you marveled at each of the covers. "Each one of them has an art piece on it," he said and you began to notice the trend. You gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek as you held Wuthering Heights in your hand. He quickly snatched it out of your hands before you could even start to rip off the cover. "Keep these, I know you have a theme going on but it doesn't hurt to have some variety," he said and gave you back the book as you stared up at him.

Now whenever someone comes to visit you, they always notice the black-bound books on display. Although they do stick out, you love recounting the story of how your significant other bought you some of the most prized objects in your collection.

[tropes-and-tales]

Care and Comfort

CW:  Richie being Richie, swearing. Angst and fluff. Mentions of Mikey's death and addiction.

Word Count:  2070

AN:  Requested by an anonymous person!

February 22.

It’s a tough day.  You’ve been with Richie long enough now—two years—to know what the date means.  What it is the anniversary of.  You came into Richie’s life after Mikey exited it, but you knew enough of your boyfriend’s best friend. 

What a charming, larger-than-life man he was.  Mikey Berzatto.  Mikey Bear.  Charismatic.  Filled the room with his presence, his stories, his ability to make a person feel like the most important person in the world.

Also an addict.  Also, probably, a narcissist. 

So it’s a tough day for Richie.  Mikey’s suicide blew a hole in the lives of those who loved him, and Richie loved Mikey like a brother.  Two years out from his death, Richie is no closer to any real closure:  he misses his friend.  He loves his friend.  He hates his friend for what he did, all the shitty behavior before he finally made a choice that couldn’t be taken back.

February 22 is the day that Richie’s feelings break loose like a storm.  He rages, he goes sulky and quiet.  He gets mad at Mikey, and because Mikey isn’t there, he lashes out at those closest to him.

You, namely.

But you can handle it.  What sort of girlfriend would you be if you didn’t help him weather these hard days?  Because you know, deep down, the person Richie is angriest at is himself:  that he didn’t see it coming, that he didn’t do more to help his friend.

-----

Your first year together, Richie was snappish.  He tried to start fights with you all day, and you—not understanding him completely—were too bewildered to rise to any bickering.  Your confusion took the fire out of him, and he spent the rest of the day maudlin, full of apologies, rife with terribly negative self-talk.

This year? 

This year, Richie is just sad.

He stays in bed past noon.  He gets up around one in the afternoon, wanders out into the living room of your shared apartment, then promptly plants himself beside you on the couch.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, soft.  You glance at him, take in the red-rimmed eyes, the deep lines etched between his brows.

He answers with a grunt, a non-committal noise.

“Hungry?”

Another grunt, and this one sounds sort of like a no or a nah.  A beat later, though, you hear the snarl of his stomach, and you laugh softly at it.

“Let me make you something.”

That, at least, earns you a grumble, a string of unintelligible words, but he doesn’t object when you stand up and make your way to the tiny kitchen.

-----

You’re no Carmy, and you’re no Sidney.  You’re no Tina or Marcus or Ebra.

Still, you can hold your own as a home chef.  You had a mother and a father who cooked, who taught you how to fry a chicken breast, how to make a simple fresh pasta, how to roast a piece of beef or pork.

So you can’t do a Hamachi crudo or a lamb ragu, but you can do comfort food.  Food that sticks to the ribs and warms a person from the inside out.  For Richie, on this difficult day?  You make him breakfast for early dinner or late lunch. 

You slice up the brioche you got earlier in the week and find it perfectly stale for French toast.  You put cinnamon and a pinch of cloves in the egg batter, fry up the slices to perfection.  You fry some bacon to the crispness Richie likes; you make a pile of buttery scrambled eggs with goat cheese and chives folded in.

You finish it all off with strong coffee in the French press, which Richie used to scoff at as needlessly fussy but now can’t live without.

You don’t bother to plate it nicely.  This isn’t the Bear, and no one is going to give you a star.  This is food as medicine, and you heap everything on a plate and carry it—along with silverware and the coffee—into the living room.

Richie has gone horizontal as you cooked, stretched out on the couch with his face to the back, but the scent of the food makes him turn a bit and glance up at you.

“Said I wasn’t hungry.”  He sounds peevish.

“Just have a bite or two.”  You set the silverware down with a clink, and Richie heaves a sigh, rolls over, sits up.  He doesn’t quite glare at you, but it’s glare-adjacent.  A slight narrowing of his eyes as he looks at you.

“Didn’t have to fucking do all of this.”  His voice has a rough edge, but you know him well enough to hear the faint thread of gratitude underneath all the gruffness.  Richie never knows how to handle being taken care of.  He’s used to being the one taking care of others:  his daughter, his ex-wife when they were still married.  Mikey’s mother, after Mikey’s suicide. 

He’s the real-life version of setting himself on fire to keep others warm, so he is always surprised when someone else cares for him.  Even if it’s something as ordinary as making him a comforting meal on a day when he’s too paralyzed by grief to feed himself.

-----

As you had guessed not hungry wasn’t true.  Once Richie gets a few bites into him, his appetite awakens and the plate is cleaned of crumbs in an appallingly short amount of time.

“Good?” you ask, and he mumbles a sheepish “thanks,” so you clear away the empty dishes, take them to the kitchen, rinse them off.

When you return to the couch, though, Richie is sitting up straight and gazing right at you.  He waits until you meet his eye, and then he says, slowly and deliberately, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He clears his throat, seems embarrassed by himself.  So much of his bluster and cockiness is an act, a smokescreen.  Richie is often insecure, chagrined by his own behavior, and you can guess that he’s berating himself for being curt with you earlier.  For dozing in bed for so long when the two of you have so few days together.

“Really didn’t have to do all that though, sweetheart,” he starts, and you wave him off.  You sit beside him, and he lifts his arm automatically, the gesture for you to tuck yourself against him, but you shake your head.  You settle against the corner of the couch, then pat your lap invitingly.

“C’mon, Jerimovich,” you tell him.  “Let me scratch your head.”

Your first impression of Richie is the most lasting one, even two years in.  He puts you in mind of a shelter dog—kicked and mistreated in some prior life, yearning for affection, baring his teeth at the thought of being kicked again. 

And like a dog, the man loves to be petted.  It’s not necessarily sexual; it’s the simple fact of human touch, the feel-good chemicals that release in his busy brain when you skate your fingertips over his bare skin, when you press your own body against his, when you scratch your nails over his scalp.

Which is what you do now.  You let Richie settle in your lap.  He tucks one arm underneath him, but he wraps the other over your thighs.  Once he’s situated, you just…pet him.  Scratch his head.  Sometimes you press your fingertips in the small muscles that go tense and bunched at the base of his skull, but mostly you just pet him.  Let the repetitive motion lull him, and you feel him relax against you little by little.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask after a long stretch of silence.  The T.V. is on, some true crime cop show, but it’s muted.  The only sounds are those of city living:  faint doors opening in the hallway of your apartment building, traffic in the street, the occasional gust of wind against the window.

“No.”

A beat, and then you ask him to tell you a story about Mikey.  It makes Richie sigh, and he starts with the well-worn story about Bill Murray, but you interrupt him.

“No, tell me a story from when you were kids,” you clarify.  “Tell me about Baby Mikey, and make sure there’s lots of Baby Richie.”

He chuckles against you, and it sounds warm.  Genuine.  He’s never said it, and you’ve never asked, but you can guess that it helps him somehow, when you ask for Richie stories in the guise of Mikey stories.  How you gently try to frame him as the main character in his own life instead of Michael Berzatto’s side-kick and sometimes-stooge. 

Now, Richie tells you a story from his high school days, and it’s his own story, and Mikey is just a supporting character, but an important one—a supporting character before the crush of adulthood, before Papa Berzatto took off and left Mikey as the man of the house.  Before the Beef as it skidded into bankruptcy, before the arson attempts and shell games with Unc’s money, before the pills and the dealing out of the alley, before whatever darkness in Mikey swallowed him up and put him on that bridge with a gun two years ago to the day.

It's a funny story, some prank on some stodgy old teacher, and Richie chuckles as he tells it.  You can hear his own darkness bleed out of his voice, can hear him remembering the good ol’ days instead of wallowing in the bad ones.  You can hear him remembering his friend who was more like a brother—remembering him in all his bright promise and not as he left.

The story ends, and then you hear it:  a weak sniffle.  You lay your palm over the curve of his skull, hold him, and think that a cry might do him good.  Richie holds so much in; tears might be healthy, might help him grieve Mikey in a more healthy way—

“I know it, you know,” he says against your lap, his voice thick with unshed tears. 

“Know what, baby?”  You wonder at what revelation he is going to share with you, what understanding in his own psychology or Mikey’s has come to him.

“I fucking know I don’t deserve you,” he replies, and it surprises you.  You gape wordlessly above him.  It wasn’t what you were expecting him to say.

“All this shit,” he explains.  “My life’s a fucking mess, and every year, I fall into this black hole and you have to pull me out.”

You smile down at where he’s settled in your lap, and you feel a wave of love for him wash through you.  Your boyfriend, Richard Lawrence Jerimovich.  Rough around the edges and then some, but underneath all that trauma and hurt lies the biggest heart you’ve ever seen.  A heart of gold.  A man who wants desperately to belong, to be loved, to be needed.

“You’re putting a lot of weight on have to,” you tell him.  “I don’t have to.  I want to.”

He shakes his head.  “Shouldn’t fucking have to or want to.”

“It’s just life, Richie.  It beats us up.  What’s the point if we don’t take care of each other when we’re feeling a little more beat up than usual?”

“You take care of me more than I take care of you.”

You scoff, and you resume scratching his head.  Dragging your nails through his short hair.  “Bullshit.”

“You do.”

“You keeping score on me, Jerimovich?”

He grumbles at that.  “You’re not keeping score?”

“In love?  Never.”

As usual, the mention of love makes him squirm.  Makes him uncomfortable.  He’s perfectly fine saying it to you, says I love you easily and without a bit of hesitation.  Hearing it said back to him, though?  That’s entirely different.

You say it as much as you can.  You let him squirm and be uncomfortable and you let each mention of your love for him chip away at those rough edges a little more, revealing more of that big heart of gold.

“I love you,” you tell him, and sure enough, he squirms again.

So you say it again and again, over and over, until he finally surrenders to it, sighs and nestles himself in your lap, and he mutters it back to you as he allows you to comfort him, to take care of him.  To love him.

[stellar-skyy]

INTERSTELLAR TEASHOP — 200 followers event.

“welcome, customer! please, take a seat. our menu is right here; feel free to order when you are ready!”

in a quiet corner of the sky, there is a teashop is tucked in between the stars. as you enter, the bell makes a quiet chime in sync with the cheerful employee's greeting, while a light jazz plays in the background. the employee gestures towards a board displaying a list of drinks. it hangs over the counter, above where a row of completed orders await collection. (masterlist.)

there are only a few others inside the shop, all huddled in comfortable-looking armchairs with drinks clutched in their hands. through the window, an array of stars cast a cool glow over each visitor. the place is quiet and cozy, and smells strongly of tea.

it's about time to order, don't you think? (20/20 slots filled!)

EDIT: requests are closed.

“oh, are you ready? let me grab my notepad!”

☆ — so, who was this order for? (character)

orders are welcome for the following characters! please note that the names that are bolded are allowed iced tea (a.k.a. platonic requests) only.

GENSHIN: Alhaitham, Arataki Itto, Arlecchino, Bennett, Chiori, Collei, Columbina, Cyno, Faruzan, Fischl, Freminet, Furina, Hu Tao, Kaveh, Kaedehara Kazuha, Kujou Sara, Layla, Lynette, Lyney, Nilou, Qiqi, Sangonomiya Kokomi, Shikanoin Heizou, Tartaglia, Tighnari, Venti, Wanderer/Scaramouche, Xingqiu, Yoimiya, Zhongli HONKAI STAR RAIL: Arlan, Asta, Aventurine, Blade, Clara, Dan Heng (including Imbibitor Lunae), Herta, Himeko, Kafka, March 7th, Natasha, Sampo, Silver Wolf, Tingyun, Welt, Yanqing.

☆ — oh and before i forget, did you want your drink hot or cold? (genre)

hot tea — romantic; iced tea — platonic.

☆ — alright, now that is out of the way... what tea would you like? (prompt)

EARL GREY TEA — losing the one you love the most; watching them slip right through your fingers. BLACK TEA — sacrifice; they were always willing to give their life for yours, but they weren't prepared for you to trade your life for theirs. CHAI — a quiet moment of bliss with someone you love. WHITE TEA — a dance, shared between the two of you. ENGLISH BREAKFAST TEA — a letter, from someone special. (please specify your relationship with the character!) CINNAMON TEA (note: this tea is served hot only!) — agreeing to 'date' each other for mutual benefit gets tricky when one begins to develop actual feelings. PEPPERMINT TEA (note: this tea is served hot only!) — jealousy, burning in their chest as they watch you grow closer to someone who isn't them. MATCHA TEA — an injury, that is carefully cared for by them. LEMONGRASS TEA — they see you're struggling, and they're there to relieve the burden from your shoulders. OOLONG TEA — a chance meeting, that promises a delightful future for the both of you. CHAMOMILE TEA — you may be sick, but they are there to care for you throughout. LAVENDER TEA (note: this tea is served iced only!) — familial ties weren't enough to stop you from growing apart, and now you don't know if the damage can ever be repaired. HIBISCUS TEA — reassurance, from one that knows no matter what hardships you face, you will get through it. ORANGE BLOSSOM TEA (note: this tea is served hot only!) — a proposal, wherein two hearts join as one. (please specify who is proposing!) LEMON & GINGER TEA (note: this tea is served iced only!) — no matter what you go through, you are family, and they will always be there for you. HONEY & VANILLA TEA — sometimes, one just wants to feel loved. and they will hold you close until you never doubt it. STRAWBERRY & RASPBERRY TEA — baking is always better when it's with the ones you love. POMEGRANATE TEA — (royalty au!) wherein you and them are both nobility. BLACKCURRENT TEA — (hanahaki au!) you adore them, but you know they don't feel the same. and it is killing you. MANGO TEA — you have been friends since childhood; you loved each other then, and you love each other now.

☆ — if there are any more details you would like to include, please leave them in your order and i will try to add them! if you are confused, here are some example orders:

— could i order an iced chamomile tea for tighnari? — i would like a peppermint tea for aventurine. if you could, please add some extra angst as well. — can i get a english breakfast tea for kazuha, served hot? and our relationship is lovers, of course.

☆ — have you decided already? wow, that was fast!

“before i wrap up your order, there are a few things to note...”

⤷ there isn't a limit of orders per person, but please wait until i have finished your current order before sending in another!

⤷ one character and one prompt in each order please!

⤷ remember i am a full time student! i do want to get to everyone, but if i get a lot of orders, there may be a delay.

⤷ edit: requests are closed!

“excellent! i will let you know as soon as your drink is ready~”

[mythrilthread]

Цветы корицы, аромат сливы by Анна Коростелева.

This novella was originally posted in 2009 and has been available for free ever since. It was bound as a birthday gift for a friend.

Blossoms of cinnamon, aroma of plum (which is the title) is a story about a Chinese student that comes to Moscow via an exchange program, seemingly by mistake, and unexpectedly uncovers some of his family’s secrets. It’s very witty and funny, and has a mystical twist. The title is supposed to be a saying that means “being something other than what you appear to be”.

So, I decided to combine classic Chinese design elements with interesting twists. So, I have a good luck knot with a tassel for a bookmark, but the colors used in the design are very modern ones (and also are favorites of the birthday girl). This is a regular Bradel binding, but it has an imitation of the classic Chinese stab binding on the spine.

The title spread features a public domain print by Hu Zhen-Yang.

[w3w]

Maidcore ID Pack

🧹 ꒱ Names

adelina, amie, anemone, anna, belle, birdie, brianna, caecelia, capucine, celeste, chocola, claudia, dollie, elaine, elodie, emerie, faithe, fleurette, hina, honey, jolene, juliet, lacie, lilac, lilibet, lumi, mabelle, mai, marie, mei, minty, nari, order, ori, poppy, primrose, sofia, sundae, tiffany, violette, virginia, wisteria

🎀 ꒱ Pronouns

ba / bake, be / berry, bo / bow, bre / brew, broo / broom, cin / cinnamon, cle / clean, co / coffee, cu / cuff, cu / cute, du / dust, hon / honey, hu / hum, la / lace, loy / loyal, mai / maid, pu / pure, second / secondhand, ser / serve, spra / spray, swe / sweep, swee / sweet, uni / uniform

🧹 ꒱ Titles

[x] who cleans, the greatest maid in the land, sweet maid, the maid of destiny, the ultimate maid, [x] loyal to [x] masters, [x] who follows [x] masters, [x] who smells like honey, the handmaid who dances gracefully, [x] with bows flowing from all directions, [x] who puts maximum effort into [x] appearance, the delicate maid, [x] who delivers with utmost grace, [x] of many talents, the frilled maiden

🎀 ꒱ Genders

bunnymaid, catmaid, idolmaidic, lolitamaidcoric, maid-ish, maidbutler, maidcafelovia, maidenhera, maidion, maidluvian, maidollcorian, maidpet (recoin vers.), maidthing

[kitthepurplepotato]

MWRMI PART 9

Week 5 - Mama Midoriya 🥦

Summary: Y/N wants to eat pancakes. Mama Midoriya must be a mind reader because she comes over with some. Inko becomes the biggest ReaderDeku shipper.

Warnings: might have 1 swear word in it. That’s it.

First Part Master List

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Things are a little bit awkward.

You haven’t seen your green nerdy roommate for a few days, which have given you the perfect opportunity to REALLY think about this new situation.

Your conclusion is…

Drumbeats, please.

Nothing have changed. You are just overthinking. That’s it. Yes.

With that in your mind, you make your way out of your room to make some fucking pancakes for yourself, because you deserve it. Every day can be a pancake day. It’s important to treat yourself sometimes.

Why are you so focused on those pancakes, anyway? Oh, yeah, to ignore your growing feelings toward your unreachable roommate. Great.

“Good morning, honey!” A lovely voice of an older, probably middle aged lady comes across the room and you almost scream incoherently but decide against it after taking a good look at the fluffy woman; she has green hair and green eyes, just like Midoriya, the only difference between the two is the lack of curls and the lady’s hair is a hint darker than your favorite roomie’s. Is she a Midoriya? She needs to be, otherwise you have a trespasser in your house. Fuck, you are terrible at self defense, not even questioning the stranger in your flat, but bruh, she has big, green doe eyes. Everyone knows you can’t say no to green doe eyes.

“Good morning! Midoriya is not here today.” You smile at the woman who only nods understandingly and puts a cup of freshly made latte in your hand. There is whipped cream on the top and a sprinkle of cinnamon. Wow.

You can’t help but look at her with stars in your eyes, adoration clearly written all over your tired features as Izuku’s mom moves back to the kitchen and opens up a box full of FUCKING PANCAKES. How did she know?! Is this her quirk? Knowing when people want to eat pancakes?!

Are there any people around with quirks like that? They probably got a lot of shit for having such a useless quirk, not like you have any rights to judge with your quirkless ass.

If this is a fanfiction, the writer needs to sort her shit out and stop reflecting her raging ADHD on you. You have enough problems already, all these random thoughts just make the situation even worse.

Okay, let’s focus.

“That’s fine honey, I just wanted to bring you two some snacks! I’m Inko Midoriya, Izuku’s mother, nice to meet you! I heard a lot about you!” The woman smiles; a blush spreads on your face from the knowing look Inko gives you. What did he tell her exactly?!

“I-I was actually craving pancakes today.” You mumble right before you realize you didn’t even say your name yet. How can you be so rude?! “Ahh sorry, I’m Y/N! Nice to meet you too!” You stutter awkwardly, trying to maintain an eye contact to not be rude, but it’s really hard, to be honest.

“Good to know you have an actual name, Izuku calls you Sweet Pea all the time, I was actually wondering if you were real at all.” The woman giggles while she puts a few pancakes on a plate for you. Your face must be the shade of crimson at this point if the heat of your face is anything to go by.

“Ahh, yes, it’s an inner joke.” You mumble, ashamed. You need to tell Midoriya to not tell others about that nickname. It’s definitely not something you would call a friend. Maybe you SHOULD talk to Midoriya about this whole situation, make him aware of his actions… but then you wouldn’t get any more sofa cuddles. Or good night kisses… Ahh, fuck that. Let’s just go with it for now. You are already completely, utterly wrecked emotionally so it really doesn’t matter anymore. It’s too late to change things now when you are so used to the way he embraces you after a long shift. It will hurt later when he finds someone better but it wouldn’t hurt any less now so you might as well just enjoy it until it lasts.

“Izuku was always like that.” Inko says dreamily. “He always gives his closest people a silly nickname. When Katsuki and him became best friends he started to call him Kacchan. Katsuki hated it so much, but eventually gave in; us Midoriyas love people in a different way than others, and giving people nicknames is our specialty.” The woman giggles, her voice happy and airy. “I’m just a little bit surprised how quickly you became one of his favorites, but I’m glad.” She smiles with unshed tears in her eyes. “You know, he never had anyone, just his hero friends. He never came home with a lady… or a boy, I’m not judging!” She adds shyly. “That boy… he always does everything for others but never stops to look for what he wants. When he opened his agency, he bought me a house and sent me enough money every month to be able to live stress free without the need of having 3 different jobs. I had to beg him to get a proper flat instead of the tiny one without the window; he sent all his money to me in the beginning so he couldn’t move on with his life at all. Thankfully, Katsuki called me and we managed to make him understand we both want him to think about himself first, but it took us weeks.” The woman sighs. “I just want him to be happy, you know? I know having someone next to you has nothing to do with being happy but I feel like that boy could thrive with the right person next to him. I want him to have someone who finally makes him do what he wants and not what he thinks others want. Ahh, I’m rambling, ain’t I.” Inko scratches her head the same way Izuku does when he’s ashamed. These two are so similar it’s almost scary.

“No, I absolutely know what you mean.” You put your fork down for a second, even though the pancake is so bloody amazing it’s really hard not to keep eating it. “On the first week, he went back to his agency to shower to not freak me out. I told him off for not coming home right away and let me take care of him; this is his house he has all the rights to come home looking like a mess. He’s allowed to be fragile, he’s allowed to ramble about nothing and everything after a shitty day and he’s allowed to be dirty and smelly after a long shift. All these things are a part of him and I absolutely adore them all. It is what makes him a human being. So don’t worry about rambling, I love that you ramble the same way he does. It’s really adorable. And this pancake is godly, I’m a little bit sad he’s incapable of feeding himself properly, but that’s also a little bit cute. He’s so perfect in every way yet he can’t even make scrambled eggs.” You giggle to yourself. When you look up at Inko, the color leaves your cheeks; her lips are trembling and looks like she’s about to cry a river.

“Sorry, was that too much?! I really didn’t mean to make you upset, I mean I know how all this sounds but I’m not…”

You can’t finish the sentence because Izuku suddenly JUMPS IN THROUGH THE OPEN WINDOW and lands right in front of his wailing mother.

“Mom, don’t cry, what happened?” Izuku kneels in front of the woman, cradling her face. Your heart almost leaves your chest from the sight of him; he’s in his full costume, sweat shining on his forehead from running all the way here in the heat. His costume sticks to his features more, thanks to the wetness of his skin; you can see every single muscle underneath the costume. You haven’t seen him for almost a week and you didn’t think you will see him today either so needless to say, your heart is having an extremely hard time right now. He’s so gorgeous, goddamnit.

“Izuku!!!!” The woman cries. “I love her so much. So-so much, Izuku! She’s perfect!” She cries some more, looking at her son with fond eyes.

“I know.” Deku smiles, but it does not reach his eyes; there is a sadness to them today and you really hate it. He embraces his mother lovingly and doesn’t look your way at all; you are not sure if it’s because of your last awkward messaging in the middle of night or not. Probably. The heartbreak came sooner than you expected it. You were right, it really fucking hurts.

When Inko calms down Izuku wanders off to get himself a plate and sits down next to you; he touches your shoulders as he passes by, letting you know that everything is fine; the touch helps you to ground yourself and be free of your negative thoughts; you are overthinking again and you know it. Even if it’s awkward this is still Izuku; Izuku who would never hold a grudge against you for needing some space.

For your surprise, he doesn’t take a new pancake from the box but decides to steal yours; he takes the full stack of pancakes, drizzled with just the right amount of maple syrup and puts them down on his own plate; he grins at you cheekily while nibbling on a small piece.

“You thief!” You giggle with an incredulous look on your face, while you move your fork to his plate to steal one pancake back; there is a massive batch of pancakes still sitting in the plastic box, but this is way more fun.

“Hey, you said I can have whatever I want. I wanted your pancakes. You said it, now deal with the consequences.” Deku gives you a shit eating grin while he tries to not choke on the full sized pancake he just stuffed into his mouth. He looks like a 5 year old and it’s absolutely adorable.

“Don’t speak while you eat, you pig!” You shuffle closer, giving his shoulders a little bump with your own. Izuku moves his fork towards you, offering you a small pancake piece and you take it without a second though; Inko chooses this moment to clear her throat to remind you of her existence because you definitely forgot about it.

“Izuku, my love, did you forget to tell me something?” She looks between you two with questioning eyes but her smile is as big as her head; she clearly thinks that Izuku and you… oh, fuck.

“Oh no, it’s not… I’m not…”

“Oh my god, mom, please don’t finish that sentence.”

“I like your son.” You yell with your face on fire. “But our relationship is purely platonic, I swear.”

Izuku stares at you with wide eyes, also rocking a massive blush on his chubby cheeks.

“I also like Y/N. And w-we are… l-like this. All the time. P-Platonically.”

“Hmm.” Inko hums with a humble smile on her face, her eyes still wet from crying just a few minutes ago. “I’ll ask you again in a few weeks.” She WINKS at you two and grabs her bag from the living room. “I’ll go home, enjoy the pancakes! There’s also some brownies on the kitchen counter, I heard Sweet Pea really liked them the last time I sent some over!” Inko DANCES to the main door and closes it behind her, her giggles can still be heard thought the wall.

“Oh my god, that was so awkward, I want to die.” Izuku whines, hiding his face with his arms, pancakes forgotten.

“Well, it was awkward for you but I have your mothers blessing, so I don’t care.” You grin while still rocking a slight blush from the embarrassment.

“You are so mean, Y/N!” The greenette whines again, offended.

“Wow, are we back to normal names now? This relationship came to an end really quickly. How sad.”

You are absolutely mortified by the whole situation but you can’t miss the chance to bully your favorite hero to tears and it will also give you enough serotonin to be able to function for another few days without him.

“You could commit mass murder and I would still beg you to come back to me.” Izuku bursts out randomly, reducing you to a stuttering, blushing mess with his sudden confession.

“I-Izu!” You yell while your heart tries her best to blast out of your chest. “If I ever commit murder, please make sure to lock me away!” You reprimand. “You are a hero!”

“I can lock you in the cleaning cupboard.” He says nonchalantly, like you are talking about the weather.

“Kinky.” You wink, taking the lead back in the ‘game’; you are quite sure Izuku’s face is redder than yours right now and that’s all that matters.

“Oh my god, not in front of my mother’s innocent pancake!” He yells, hiding his plate from your sight; you can’t help but laugh out loud at the randomness of the situation.

“Why are we like this?” You giggle, your head ending up on the hero’s shoulders in the middle of your laughing fit.

“I don’t know but I hope it never changes.” He smiles fondly, his eyes full of an emotion you can’t place. There is a different shine to them now, brighter and more colorful than before but it might be just your own emotions reflecting in them, making you believe they are his own.

“Cheesy.” You roll your eyes mockingly, but your smile says a thousand words.

“You are.” The hero smiles, leaving a sticky, sugary kiss on your forehead while his left arm snakes around your lower back to pull you closer, almost making you fall between the two dining chairs. You both giggle at your clumsiness and go back to your abandoned pancakes; Izuku will need to leave eventually and probably won’t have another break until the evening, so you let him eat his pancakes in peace, surrounded by a comfortable silence.

~•🥦•~

— Deku’s Daycare! —

Half and half bastard: Y/N, the squad is going on a camping trip next week. It’s a 2 night trip to the woods, tents, camping supplies and transport provided by me. If you would like to be added to the attendance sheet, please send me a message. Have a great day.

Piggy 🐷: OMG a new name on the attendance sheet? What an exciting day for our boy!

Half and half bastard: It is indeed exciting. I haven’t updated our attendance sheet for ten years.

EMO bitch: I’m quite sure Mina was being sarcastic, Shouto.

Half and half bastard: Oh. But I am excited. I don’t understand.

Y/N: Oh, hello Shouto-kun, please add me to the attendance sheet! I’m also more than happy to provide some snacks and cookies for the trip!

Half and half bastard: Thank you very much, Y/N! Just a reminder for everyone: Don’t drink anything Denki gives you.

Pikachu: Hey!!!

Piggy 🐷 : Amen.

Kacchan Sugoi: Bring a condom Y/N, just in case.

Y/N: ?!

Shitty Hair: Ignore him, Y/N.

*Kacchan sugoi changed Shitty Hair’s name to Homeless Dude.*

Homeless Dude: HEY!

… Next Chapter!

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Potato ramble:

- So if you feel like this chapter wasn’t fluffy enough, wait for the next few. Like damn, I think I have diabetes at this point.

- About the camping chapter… well… so I wanted it to be a two parter… ended up writing 10K + words and by the look of it, it will have minimum 4 but rather 5 parts because I can’t stop writing it. I’m on the 4th part and I still have one full day to write about. 😂 Sorry in advance! 😂

- Shopaholic potato update: I know I said there won’t be any this week… but I bought 2 more funkos (Hawks and Jirou with a bass!) and there is a funko day on Saturday in my favorite geek store… send help.

- The “why are we like this” part is a reference to one of my fav comics ever called “Heartstopper” by Alice Oseman.

- I started to play with the MHA Strongest Hero mobile game. I don’t have an actual life anymore.

- So I was listening to my liked music on Spotify and this song came up and I was like omg if this story would be a movie this would be the opening of it! Enjoy!

- The ADHD joke wasn’t originally a part of this chapter, I wrote it in here in tumblr while editing because I had a really hard time concentrating and came up with random questions like the one written down, while editing and I had to vent about it. Apparently listening to music, swinging my legs left to right, drinking coffee and eating chocolate isn’t enough to keep me focused today. It’s one of those days. Jesus I’m rambling now. Help.

Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated as always! 🥦

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Taglist: @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @momothemasocist @aymasakusa @sky179ler @kastuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07

[rae-gar-targaryen]

sin adorno o flores | without decoration or flowers [mickey "fanboy" garcia x fem!reader]

Summary: Some soapy, sinful sweetness in the bathtub with Fanboy. (Thanks to @fanboys-fangirl for this one).

Pairing: Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia x fem!civilian!reader (aka “Cielo;” as always no use of y/n – my readers are written ambiguous, but with a latina!reader in mind.)

Warnings: improbable bathtub shenanigans, adult content so 18+, fingering, allusions to smut, it’s unedited and probably terrible please don’t disown me.

Word Count: 1.7k of a sudsy, sexy solution to insomnia. 

--

Neither of you were immune to a sleepless night here and there.

Mickey knew you were prone to late night bouts of inspiration, slipping from your bedsheets to go draw. Prising yourself from his arms and leaving him with the lingering heat of your skin against his, dreams of sunlight and artist’s graceful hands dancing in his head.

And he would sometimes wake, the anxious itch that he had overslept or missed his alarm causing him to jolt awake at 2 a.m., damning him to spend the remainder of the witching hour tossing and turning. Restless nights when he was away were spent with wisps of you in his arms, in the form of imagination. Longing for the feel of your skin against his, despite damnable distance.

Even when he was home, sleep had a funny way of remaining elusive. Blame it on jet lag. Blame it on adrenaline. Blame it on the thoughts running a mile a minute in his head, the way the sky blurs past the canopy of his jet, an ocean of streaking, rolling blue.

Mickey's thoughts are muddled as he slips from your shared bed, careful not to disturb you as you continue to snooze on -- and were you dreaming of him? Your thoughts spinning, spilling into your pillow to piece together from dreams into shareable thoughts when you wake, an easy smile detectable on your lips through the 2 a.m. hazy spell of the room. 

Mickey creeps into the ensuite bathroom, cursing the transition of cold hardwood beneath his feet to cold tile as he shuts the door behind him and makes his way over to the tub -- cranking the brass tap and praying that the sudden rumble of water into the porcelain isn't enough to disturb your sleep.

You had a long day, after all. While Mickey played COD with Payback, you had worked. Taking nonstop calls from your project manager.

And you had still made time to make dinner. Mickey had helped, of course – If by help, you counted him slipping his hands along your waist as he crept up behind you while waiting for the pasta to boil. The warmth of his hands flooding through the thin fabric of your t-shirt, improbably unstoppable. His lips meeting your neck in a teasing peck, humming into your skin like tickling, tufty bee’s wings, as he watched you stir the noodles. 

“You’re not getting out of heating the sauce,” you admonished, turning in his arm to press a kiss to his lips, all scorn in your voice absent in favor of a lilting tease. 

“Baby,” he rumbled. “I’ll heat up every jar of alfredo I can find if you make that mean little wrinkle with your eyebrows at me again.”

You frowned.

“That’s the one,” he kissed your cheek. “Gets me hot.”  

And after dinner, you’d had to go back to your project – promises of devilish downtime with your boyfriend crumbling as the evening wore on, and the two of you had gone to bed.

Now, while he waited for the tub to fill, Mickey lit your large basin candle on the stand near the tub, the smell of cinnamon and oranges instantaneously filling his nose, washing him in warm sweetness as he dropped some of your honey-oat bath milk into the tub, watching it froth and foam. He eased himself into the tub, urging his mind to sooth as the warm water seeped and danced over his skin.

–

The slicing splash of water from the other side of the bathroom door meets your ears, stirring you from lavender hued dreams of warm smiles, tanned skin, and inky curls. Of the skimming skate of warm palms rasping up the skin of your arms and shoulders. Cupping your jaw. Of the hazy promise of a kiss, even in your dreams, as smiling lips danced along yours.

It was such a good dream.

You turned in your sheets, hands seeking hands in the darkness of your room, eager to make your dream a reality --

Only to find that his side of the bed was empty. Hm.

The tinkling trail of water dripping into the tub met your ears once more, prompting you to ease out of bed and make your way to the bathroom. 

Opening the door to be met with the sight of your beloved -- his curls, which had grown out since his return home, pulled back into a bun, a loose tendril sticking to his forehead, frizzing slightly at the steaming heat of the bathwater. 

And it was staggering, you thought, how he managed to steal the breath from your lungs each time, after all this time, like some sort of clever trick. One that he would never share. 

"A magician never reveals their secrets, Cielo," he would tease.

But he looked magical now, you thought. The golden glow of your single candle splashing across the exposed tawny skin of his arms, resting against the porcelain curve of the tub. His eyes closed and head tilted back as he rested in the warm, soapy water. 

He cracked an eye open, as though greeting you with a sleepy wink -- still cheeky, even when exhausted. His lips curling into a smile as he took in your form in the doorway. 

"Couldn't sleep?" You murmured, your footsteps silent over the tile as you made your way to the side of the tub.

Mickey groaned in response.

"Hmm, no." He opened both eyes now, sitting up and allowing the soapy bubbles that had rested there to slip their way down his chest with the movement. 

"Do you want to talk about it? Or just a restless night?" You eased, crouching beside the tub and allowing your arm to drape over the side. You trailed your fingers through the water, admiring the trails you cut through the soapy water, before glancing up to lock eyes with your beloved. 

“Just a tough night to sleep,” he shrugged. “But this is helping. You should go back to sleep, Cielo. I’ll be back in in a bit.”

“Well I’m awake now,” you huffed in mock consternation, allowing your brow to crease in the sexy little frown he had teased you for before. You reached for his hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “I suppose,” you pressed your lips to each fingertip between your words. “I could join you?” 

Mickey nodded, swallowing heavily in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing as he took in the sight of you, standing now to step into the tub. His hand still joined with yours, he guided you into the water as you were, still clothed in your loose, soft sleeping t-shirt and white panties. 

You eased your way down with Mickey’s guidance, coming to rest between his legs, the feel of his firm chest pressing into your back through the damp shirt now sticking to your skin. You rested your head against his shoulder, sighing at the feel of being held once more.

“Relaxed?” you asked, tilting your head to look back and up at him, only to find his gaze already upon you.

His irises were the slow drip of honeyed bourbon, swirling, in the dim glow of your bathroom by candlelight as he took you in. His gaze blazing along your skin, taking in the sight of the rise and fall of your chest, your nipples visible through the thin dampness of your t-shirt as it clung to you. 

“No,” Mickey bit, reaching for you and allowing his hands to slip, obscured beneath the soapy water to toy with the elastic of your panties at your waist. Gripping your skin beneath your shirt as he allowed the water to assist, turning you in his lap to face him. Your chest now pressed against his.

Mickey’s lips met yours, a euphoric rush of sweltering sin as he nipped your lower lip. Easing your lips to part with heat and bite as he slid his tongue into your mouth, one hand at the back of your neck and one at the curve of the small of your back, keeping your hips pressed to his.

He released your lips from his, his eyes taking you in, wild and wanton –  the sections of hair dampened by his touch, your kiss-swollen lips. Your blown, doe-eyes glimmering like bottle-glass in the dim light of the bathroom. He reveled in the feel of the rise and fall of your chest as against his, the feel of your pebbled nipples. Of the now-soaked shirt clinging to your every dip and curve.

“Gonna kiss me again, Romeo?” you asked, breathlessly.

Mickey smiled, a fox’s grin. He parted his legs further, pressing them against the edges of the edges of the porcelain, allowing you to fill the space as he wrapped his arms fully around you, his hands spanning against your back. Pushing your shirt like tissue paper up and exposing more of your damp, glistening skin to his gaze as he brought his lips to yours once more. 

Using his leverage as he leaned back into the tub, bringing you with him, slipping up his body from your space between his legs. Your panties soaked through and clinging to you as you rolled your hips, begging for some friction as he continued to kiss you.

You brought your hands up the firm plane of his chest, allowing them to rest there as you parted your lips from his, taking in the glow-lit sight of your beloved below you.

And there it was again, you thought. The magician’s trick.

Mickey was still smirking at you through lust-blown eyes as one of his hands wandered from the small of your back. One hand to your neck as he kissed you again, tugging at the collar of your t-shirt, tugging it aside to press a kiss to your collarbone, a sly, sensational little thing – the feeling of his lips on your skin. The other hand moved toward your waist, inching toward your center, a thick finger snapping the waist of your panties against your slick, heated skin, the action muffled by the warm-but-cooling bathwater. He slid his down the front of your panties, a thick finger running along your wet slit, purposeful and cruel.

You tilted your head back at the feeling of his fingers at your center, sweet and firm, causing your eyes to flutter shut and your lips to part, the attention rendering the fluttering feeling between your thighs giving way to full, pulsing ache.

Mickey paused to take in the sight of you – of the bubbles trailing along your skin, glinting in the candlelight. 

The sloshing water met your ears as Mickey shifted beneath you, sitting up more fully to guide your lips into a kiss once more as he eased a finger inside of you, stroking you gently as the water continued to roll with the motion. 

“M,” you gasped, using your hands still pressed to his chest to push away, “Don’t take this the wrong way,” you rolled your hips against his hand once, a cracked-glass moan catching in your throat as the curve of his finger inside of you caused you to throb. “But we’ve gotta stop.”

Mickey’s brow creased at your words, a mild frown of his own playing on his shadow-danced features as you gently guided his hand from you with a gentle grip on his wrist. 

On shaky, Bambi legs, you made to stand – Mickey’s wrist still gripped in yours as you stepped out of the tub and onto the plush bath mat.

“Cielo, if this is some kind of game,” Mickey’s eyes followed you as you went, doing his best to keep the minor crack of desperation from his voice. You weren’t the only one aching by now, after all …

“No game,” you guided Mickey to stand in the tub, removing your grip from his to bring your hands to your own waist. With a traipsing trip, you hooked your fingers through the waistband of your panties, allowing the damp fabric to roll as you guided it down your legs to step out of them, kicking them to the side. “No trick,” you assured. 

You helped Mickey step from the tub, his body pressed to yours as you both stood on the plush rectangle of the bath mat. You glanced up at him through your lashes, guiding his hand to cup your jaw. Turning  your face slightly in his grip, you allowed your lips to follow, sucking his thumb lightly as you kept your heated gaze locked on his…

Reveling in the visible swallow in his throat at the feeling of your lips around him. In the way the candlelight made the peaks of his high cheekbones look somehow finer. As though your love was made of spun gold and the liquid aureate drip of the late-afternoon winter sun. 

“I know just how to help you sleep,” you murmured, leading him from your bathroom back to the bedroom and guiding him down onto the sheets –  dampness be damned.

Mickey had his tricks, sure. But so did you. 

tagging:  @joaquinwhorres @withahappyrefrain @clints-lucky-arrow @inklore @phoenixhalliwell @ohmagawd-life @levylovegood @thatredheadwriter @zombieaurora @shadeds-library @writercole @ijustwantedplums @justalonelyslytherin @gretagerwigsmuse @fanboys-fangirl @siriusfahey @the-navistar-carol @jadore-andor @fanboygarcia @lavenderluna10 @thedaredevilsgirl @fluffyprettykitty @mickeyluvs @mothdruid   @maxmayfield @eagerforthesky @callmemana @mxgyver  @andrewrussgarfield @bioodforbiood  @the-purity-pen @luxuryberzatto @liz-allyn  @moonlight-prose @thegirlwhowritesfics @phoebe-danvers ​@jadore-andor  @marvelousmermaid @spidervee ​@t-nd-rfoot @teacupsandtopgun @therebeccaw​

[testedcatdraws]

Thoughts on Danganronpa Despair Time Chapter 2 Episode 14 (spoilers, obviously)

Alright, we have narrowed it down to two suspects, Eden and Ace!

Now, with other stuff that went on, we learned how Nico tried to kill Ace and that they regretted it. Plus they tried to frame Hu.

Another thing is that Rose's memory seems more like a disability, which makes since. It obviously had some uses, like last trial, but overall it seems to make Rose's life harder that kinda negates the uses it would have. I don't know if any real life disabilities are like Rose's or of DRDTdev just made this up, but either way this just sounds like a disability fictional or not. If it's not made up, then I guess I have nothing to say due to my lack of knowledge on it. If it's made up it does make since, humans might not be made to handle that much memory.

Now, who do I think is the killer? I think it's Ace, with the info we have of Eden so fare it's safe to assume she's at least somewhat good, though I think she's the traitor (her being the traitor is mostly a guess from her possibly clawing at Xander's eye due to the fork scene, other then that I have no real evidence so I'll just say it's a educated guess.) She also had a connection with Arei which would make them friends, and I see no evidence that Eden would fake it. Unless someone shows me evidence that Eden's secretly bad, or hates Arei in anyway, I think it's safer to assume she's innocent. With Ace he has no connections with Arei, which means he might feel less bad killing her. Arei's rather rude too so I doubt they had a good relationship, even if they barely had one. This means it's probably the suspect that Ace would feel less bad about killing. Plus since Arei had little to no connections with him people wouldn't suspect him. The reason he didn't kill Nico was to frame him, also probably because it'll be rather obviously revenge. Now, I could be wrong and Eden could be the killer, I do know that.

Alright, now lets play devil's advocate and see why Eden might be the killer! Eden might not be that good, it's rather evident that most people in the killing game aren't some UwU sweet cinnamon roll who do no wrong, besides Eden and Whit (Ok, that cinnamon roll is suppose to be overexaggerating but I'm sure you get what I mean), which makes them both suspicious. Whit's probably going to be the mastermind in my opinion, and Eden is probably going to be the traitor. This doesn't mean Eden's the devil or evil, as other characters aren't either. Xander tried to kill Teruko, Charles started as a jerk, and I'm sure you could find other stuff. They're heavily flawed, but they aren't evil either. This means Eden might've cared about Arei but since she's the traitor maybe she was threatened to do this in the cause of something more important to her, like a family member or someone else. Though, this is assuming I'm correct about Eden being the traitor.

That's all.

[mystiquedrops]

INCORRECT QUOTES FOR DT SINCE IT'S RETURNING! !!

SPOILER ALERT !!

(I have learnt you can make your texts look fancy, so I may as well give it a shot !)

"Min: I currently have 7 empty notebooks and I have no idea what to put in them. Any suggestions?

Arei: Put spaghetti in it.

Min: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you.

Whit: Put spaghetti in it.

Min: I am currently taking suggestions from everyone but you two.

Xander: Put spaghetti in it.

Min: I am no longer taking suggestions."

—

"Teruko: What’s the status up here?

Ace: Fucked up, about to die, Charles is a nerd. The usual."

_

"Hu: I’ve only Nico had for a day and a half but if anything happened to them I would kill everyone in this room and then myself."

_

"Eden: How do tall people people possibly sleep at night when the blanket can't possibly cover you?

Levi: Eden, it's four o'clock in the morning.

Eden: So, you can't sleep, huh? Is it because of the blanket?"

_

"Arei, passing their phone to Eden: I'm passing the phone to someone, who if I had to choose between hanging out with them, and having my organs removed one by one, I’d choose the organs.

Eden, passing the phone back to Arei: I'm passing the phone to my best friend!"

_

"Ace: Is it still visible? Where Hu slapped me?

Teruko: Your face looks like a don't walk signal.

Rose: Your face looks like a photo negative for the hamburger helper box.

Levi: A palm reader could tell Hu's future by looking at your face.

Arei: The phrase 'talk to the hand cause the face ain't listening' doesn't work for you, because the hand is your face.

Ace: ...A simple 'yes' would've sufficed."

_

"Hu: Arei, get that hidious thing out of the living room, would you?

Arei: Arturo, Hu wants you to get out of the house."

_

"Eden: I told Teruko that her ears turn red when she lies.

Levi: Do they?

Eden: No.

Levi: Then why did you tell her that?

Eden: Because I can do this.

Eden: Hey Teruko! Do you love us?

Teruko, with her hands over her ears: No."

_

"Nico: The only thing I'm guilty of is being adorable... ...and also assault with a deadly weapon."

_

"Eden: eating a cinnamon roll

Veronika: Cannibalism.

Eden: confused chewing noises"

_

"Rose: I wanna sleep for 40 hours.

Teruko: You know that's called a coma, right?

Rose: That sounds so refreshing, I could totally go for a light coma right now."

_

"Xander is speaking on the phone

Xander: Yeah, I'm with Teruko.

Teruko: Im fucking dying-

Xander: Yep, she's okay.

Teruko: I have a knife in my chest!

Xander: No, she can't talk right now. She's sleeping, sorry.

Teruko: IM BLEEDING OUT-"

_

"Eden: You use humor to deflect your trauma.

Whit: Awww, thanks-

Eden: That’s not a good thing!

Whit: All I’m hearing is that you think I’m funny."

_

"Xander: we could make a boys club!

Nico: Im non-binary.

Xander:

Xander: Anti-girls club."

_

"Arei, to someone that angered her: Holds two middle fingers

Teruko: Can’t say I’m surprised…

Whit: Yeah, flip em off, Arei!

Eden, confused: Holds one middle finger

The cast, very distressed: NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

_

[the-weeb-of-the-uchiha]

Party Addict Karma x Y/N

" I'm spending all the money, your ho she really wants me

Think she wants something from me ... "

You were getting dressed to go to the club with your Bestie Tatyana. You guys were party addicts. Went to every club in your city any time you got the chance. Sometimes you would blackout and end up in some strangers bed ( not too often ).

Your thoughts were interrupted due to the sound of a text. Tatyana. It read " I'm outside " . You grabbed you purse 👛 and left out the door. Closing the the door behind you, now looking the black GMC.

"Hey girlie, hop in"

"Gladly"

You two talked about the new club for a while. Tatyana mentioned that the owner was a "good" friend of a friends. whatever that meant . She slowly pulled up to a place that had the line wrapped around the block.

" How the hell are we supposed to get in "

" I told you I have a good friend of a friends."

You rolled your eyes 👀. You both existed the car 🚙 with envious eyes on you. Tatyana had given the keys to valet . You guys were about to stand in line until a fine man approached you. He looked like a cinnamon roll. But you knew there were no cinnamon rolls in this type of place.

" Ladies, I saw you get in line and thought that lovely ladies such as your selves would like to take short cut. "

Tatyana looked at you. You looked at her. She gave you the IDK look. You looked at the man with read hair and golden eyes. He looked at you with hungry eyes.

" We will accept your offer than Mr. ..."

" Karma. Call me Karma "

" Well Karma, My name is Y/N" .

As he escorted you inside the club. The party was lively. This was your type of place. Almost walking away from karma and going with Tatyana. He pulled you by the waist into his embrace.

" Where are you going Flower 🌸? "

You didn't know how to respond. You thought you would be able to enjoy yourself. You saw Tatyana going upstairs.

" Come sit with me Flower 🌸. I'll buy you a drink."

He smirked at you with is hungry eyes. You couldn't refuse a free drink .

" Ok . I accept your offer"

He guided you too the VIP booth with his hand still on your waist. You wondered if he would ever take his hand off. He approached the body guard 💂. He let him in without a word. You looked surprised 🤨.

" Flowers do you go Hard or just drink?"

"I'm a party addict What do you think?"

" Good, I belive we will have a good time together."

He guided you to a booth. Both of you sat down. He called the waiter and ordered a bottle of wiskey and 2 shot glasses and the usual"

" Hey I don't think I can stay for only 1 drink Karma"

" Why? Do you want to go back to your friend ?"

You didn't know how to answer. You didn't want to rude someone who did you a favor.

" I'll party with you just we can't just stay here. "

"Hu-

You pulled him to the dance floor. You went to the d.j and asked him to play Door to Dusk by Otadari.

authors note: ( I like that song OK )

The club was more livelier, lights were brighter, and the people were getting more crazy. This was the type of vibe you wanted. You lost all sense of reason. Soon you realized what you were doing. Dancing with random people and popping pills without knowing.

Karma pulled you back to the lounge with him. He looked winded and fatigued.

" You looked like you were having fun out there."

He pushed a small tray of drugs givin by the waiter in front of you.

" I was. It feels like only 10 minutes passed by"

" Flowers it's been over an hour"

You looked at him in shock. You picked up your phone 📱. It was 10:54 .

" I guess it has. " you said as you helped your self to whatever was on the tray. You both took turns getting high. You both were having a great time. Hours had went by next thing you knew ...

You both were walking into a hotel 🏩 room. Karma didn't waste anytime trying to kiss you.

" Flowers I might start calling you something else soon"

" Why ?"

" Because your so sweet?"

You started to blush. Karma stopped kissing you and started taking off your dress while burying himself into your neck. You let out a small moan.

" Flowers you have to help me too now."

"alright"

I'm done here this has been in the drafts for the longest

[boojangs]

@blackenheartbutterfly this was hard because I absolutely loathe the smell of coffee 😂😂

Enid makes Wednesday a coffee body scrub, because of course she does 🖤🩷

Enid was something of a chemist, if you ever asked her what her hobbies included. She dabbled in all wares of self-care, from lotions, to creams, to any scrubs, even scented candles. Her nose was strong and sensitive, could pick up nuances in her creations with better ease than a bloodhound. She loved when things smelled nice, loved when she could change an entire mood, just by finding the proper scent. When she started rooming with Wednesday that first year, she learned that she smelled of peppermint and old books, metal polish, and a hint of something delightfully smokey. It was her favorite scent, especially since they’d started properly dating. She stole Wednesday’s hoodie as often as she could, sometimes even directly off her girlfriend, whenever she needed to be surrounded by the familiar, comforting scent.

She also learned that Wednesday was absolutely obsessed with coffee.

Enid was fully convinced that if she were to crack Wednesday Addams open, coffee would spill out. She learned how to make Wednesday’s preferred cup at the very beginning of her relationship, so that the antisocial seer could skip one more step in her usual morning routine: black with a dash of cinnamon.

It was after discovering this little fact about her girlfriend that Enid started toying around with the idea of a body scrub, handcrafted and perfectly tailored for her tiny paramour. Thing was her right-hand man in her different efforts, spending weeks trying to perfect the right amount of scent and the proper amount of grit, sure Wednesday would love the extra scrubbing power while in the shower. She’d tried it on herself and tried in on Thing, the deep, earthy aroma finally just the perfect amount of the well-loved brew that Wednesday enjoyed so much.

She flitted off to Jericho for a proper jar, none of her others the proper feel for such a gift, Thing perched on her shoulder as she shifted through the weird parts at Uriah’s Heap, the wolf eventually stumbling upon a skull-shaped mason jaw. Enid squeaked when she found it, quickly snatching it up and ringing out with Connie, the blonde skipping happily down the street to start on her brisk walk back to the academy. She hit the campus, already knowing that Wednesday was with Eugene, the time to collect their latest batch of honey upon the Hummers this time of year.

Enid sprinted up to their dorm and let Thing down onto their spare bed, the wolf disappearing into her closet for her stash of black-hued trimmings, sure to always keep something on hand, for the amount of times she found herself showering her girlfriend with gifts. She prepared everything perfectly, screwing on the lid to her jar and wrapping it in layers of black tissue paper, finishing the gift with a small, black metallic bow. She left it on the edge of her desk for Wednesday’s inevitable return as she got down to her own work, a K-pop playlist blaring in the background.

She heard familiar footsteps after a while, Enid cutting the music and snatching up her gift, keeping it hidden behind her back as she rocked on the balls of her feet, excitedly awaiting the return of her favorite person.

Wednesday sighed as she cracked the door open, weary from so much work out in the shed, her shoulders unfairly tight as she shrugged off her backpack, and looked up, noticing the excitable air about her girlfriend. Her face wrinkled in curiosity as she walked to meet Enid, her lips pursed as she peered up into those pretty blue eyes.

“You are excited,” she blinked at the eager nod, her arms absently folding as she openly surveyed the blonde, still in her uniform, “Have I missed something, querida?”

Enid snorted out a small laugh, shaking her head as she lifted one of her hands to lovingly tug on the corner of Wednesday’s lapel, “No, silly, you haven’t missed anything! I got you something, though,” she brought the gift out from behind her back, and presented the small bundle, “Ta-da!”

Wednesday glanced down at the small gift, her ears tipped red at the unsolicited present before reaching out to accept it, surprised at the weight as it settled in her palm. Her eyes flicked up to Enid, her flush darkening to a scarlet red as she read the happiness on Enid’s face, her heart flustering at how deeply it managed to always affect her.

She paced a step away as she unwrapped the hefty gift, her brows furrowing as she uncovered the skull-shaped jar, turning her head back toward Enid in mild confusion. The blonde chuckled and walked over, holding her hand out for the trash before nodding toward the jar.

“Wens, you have to open it,” she teased, and bent down to press a quick kiss to her cheek.

The seer nodded absently and screwed the lid off, the delectable smell of coffee immediately permeating her senses, her lashes fluttering slightly at the lovely aroma. Wednesday turned back to Enid, a silent question pressed into her face that had Enid grinning brightly in response.

“It’s a body scrub! I made it myself. Took forever to get the smell right, I had SO much tweaking to do. I figured you could use it whenever you wanted something different.”

Wednesday nodded, bending her head down to get a proper sniff before dipping her finger into the strange scrub, “Thank you, querida, this was unexpected.”

Enid wriggled her shoulders in excitement, Wednesday wandering back to her girlfriend to properly kiss her in hello and in thanks before closing the lid up tight, and leaving it off in the shower stall for later.

She didn’t miss the way Enid’s face lit up when she escaped the bathroom after her shower that night, her cheeks warm with affection at the thoughtful gift, the smell of coffee permanently ingrained into her skin.

She LOVED it.

[fuwahua]

New Traditions

WC: 2.3k

Happy birthday Zhongli! May you enjoy the year of the dragon with your hubby 💕

Established relationship, fluff, (one sided) tickle fights, lots of flirting

“You know, it’s your birthday. We didn’t have to come all the way out here.”

“It is precisely because it is my birthday that I’d like to spend it with the family of the one I love.”

Zhongli chuckles as Ajax’s mouth flaps open and shut, a fish out of water. He’s not the only one to take amusement in the action— Ajax’s siblings giggle at him as well, and his mother partakes in a shared glance of fond amusement. Despite being a guest at this household, they’ve already taken to him with familial warmth.

Then again, perhaps that’s how most families are when their child brings home a lover.

Zhongli takes his time through his birthday dinner, though it is not a particularly luxurious meal. In comparison to the exorbitantly priced dinners at Liuli Pavilion he’d taken Hu Tao to in the past, the rather plainly plated, mildly seasoned platters Ajax’s family had set out before him are simple. Yet there is warmth beneath the spices: time, set out in the early dawn for a father and third eldest son to catch fish together, an evening of marinating lamb with rambunctious children, a night time’s worth of lullabies and whispered promises as the sweet scent of cinnamon and jam wafted from the oven. It is simpler food, yes, prepared by amateur hands that have never studied in crowded kitchens and before renowned chefs.

But it tastes of home, inviting and kind; for that Zhongli swears it is one of the loveliest meals he’s ever had in his life.

“I’m surprised you ate everything,” Ajax tells him well after the plates have been collected and their hands have grown wrinkled from washing. Most of his family has retreated, his mother to retire their youngest and the elder siblings departing to give the couple privacy. Even his father, who Ajax had described their relationship as tenacious at best, had given Zhongli a warm hug in celebration of his birthday. “I thought you hated seafood.”

Zhongli grimaces. Ajax laughs, a delightful ring of joy, and his grimace melts into a smile. “I… harbor a dislike for it, yes. But it is not as though I cannot consume it—and your mother spent so long preparing it, wouldn’t it be rude to leave it uneaten?”

“You say that, but you leave my seafood meals uneaten all the time.”

“I was only saving them for someone who would enjoy them more. Who would I be to deny my lover his favorite meal?”

“You’d be a great con artist, you know that? Slippery bastard.”

Ajax dramatically huffs and Zhongli smiles as he opens his hands in clear invitation. The false anger only lasts a moment before Ajax relents, rolling his eyes, and slides into Zhongli’s hug. “You can’t just offer people hugs every time they point out your flaws.”

“Why not? It’s seemed to have worked awfully well for me so far.”

“Oh? Are you hugging anyone other than your fiancé?”

Zhongli’s cheeks warm despite himself, and this time Ajax is the one to squeeze him with a grin. “You shouldn’t be too mean to your fi-an-cé, you know? Or who knows, I’d bring someone else home…”

“Ajax, I hate to inform you of this, but you have few friends. Fewer who would travel to Snezhnaya.”

“What—hey! I could totally invite the traveler!”

“Ah, so my competition is only one after all.”

The punch against his arm is little more than a playful gesture; Zhongli chuckles as Ajax attempts to wriggle out from his hug. “I jest, I promise. Please don’t go: It would be too cruel to leave your fiancé on his birthday, wouldn’t it?”

“It’s not even your actual birthday!” Correct. Even so, Ajax relents in his escape efforts, sagging against him. The sudden increase in weight means little to an Archon, but it is the trust beneath the shift that has Zhongli faltering, heart loud. “Just you wait, I’ll figure out your real birthday eventually.”

“We’d already told your family today is my birthday. Adding another day would make little sense.”

“You think they care? The more birthdays to celebrate, the better.”

“In that case, why not celebrate everyday?”

“Okay, not that many. It’s like…” Ajax trails off, humming in thought. Zhongli soaks in his concentration with affection, leaning his head against Ajax’s shoulder as he waits. It’s not often he’s allowed to witness the more calculative side of his fiancé despite the many years they’ve now spent together, largely due to the fact that Ajax insists on keeping his work and personal life separate. At home, he can relax and leave most of the decisions to Zhongli: a decision made from both their preferences and comfort.

Still, he savors moments like this, where Ajax is deep in thought. Calm, peaceful, and in the arms of the person he’s come to love the most in the world. Free to do little more than stare at the face of his beloved and take in all the features he so little has time to appreciate.

“… it’s hard to think when you’re staring so hard at me.”

“Forgive me, but between the snow and my love, I’d much prefer looking at my love.”

“You’re just—“ Ajax’s complaint fizzles as soon as it begins, eyes full of fond exasperation. It’s an expression Zhongli would have never thought he’d be the culprit of as Liyue’s Archon, and yet, he’s come to treasure every glance Ajax sends his way. “Does Xiao know you’re actually a little shit? Because I think he should know that.”

“I’ve done nothing to be referred to in such a way.”

“And a liar. You know, in Snezhnaya we used to lock people up for that.”

Impossible. Such a law would be much more suited to Fontaine than Snezhnaya, where falsities and secrets are deeply intertwined with the intricacies of romance. Yet Zhongli hums rather than correct.

“I’ve not lied at all today. Do I lack so terribly in expressing my love for you ordinarily that you think my truthful confessions are lies? Would you rather I kiss you every morning as you set off to work, and take you every night loud enough that there will be no doubt of our—“

“OKAY! Okay, okay, shut up, I get it!” Ajax’s cheeks flame as he interrupts, a warmth that creeps from his neck to his ears. Zhongli laughs, bubbling mirth escaping him, while Ajax pinches his cheeks. “Why do I feel like you’ve been laughing at me all day?”

“I’ve little idea of this accusation.”

“You’re laughing at me right now.” Is he? Zhongli raises a hand to his face, failing to hide his still wide grin of amusement. Ajax’s eyes narrow. “Stop that.”

“I’ve hardly done anything.”

“Really? You want to play this game?”

“Game?” Zhongli huffs, transferring his hand from his face to Ajax’s cheek, patting it playfully. “Is that how you refer to spending time with me?”

“Oh, you’re just asking for it.”

“Asking for what?”

Admittedly, he was probably “pushing it” as Ajax would say, but Zhongli would like to contest that claim with the very cute evidence of Ajax’s slightly irritated gaze sent his way. He could hardly help it!

Though, Ajax wouldn’t accept such reasoning. If anything, the sudden mischief sparking in his eyes…

“Asking for this!”

“A-Ajax! W-waihahaaht!” Zhongli startles with a giggle at the sudden move of fingers against his waist, squirming at the ticklish sensation. Ajax grins down on him as his hands skate along his torso, teasing.

“Wait? You sure didn’t wait to tease me, why should I wait for you?”

“I wasn’t! Ehehe, I was telling thehehe! Ahaha, pause!”

“Excuses, excuses!”

If he weren’t so distracted, Zhongli would scold Ajax for interrupting another in the midst of their sentence. Unfortunately, he’s rather busy with trying to grapple at Ajax’s wandering fingers along his sides, sweeping up to poke at the divots between his ribs. Curses his perfectionism while crafting this human form—he could have simply left out the ribs, couldn’t he?

But he hadn’t evidently and now, he had to suffer the consequences.

Zhongli shakes his head as he laughs, successfully grabbing one of Ajax’s wrists only to lose it a moment later when the other hand jumps into his armpit. His giggles rise in volume and pitch, an unruly mess of jumbled syllables; his cheeks redden at his own laughter as he protests.

“A-Ajahahahaax! No, hehehe, it–it’s rude!”

It’s of little use. Ajax’s fingers continue to wander, prodding all of Zhongli’s weak spots, pressing ever closer even though there’s no space left between their bodies. When Ajax’s hair brushes his nape, he squeaks.

“Rude? You’re calling me rude?”

“Nohohoho! This-I-I—not there!”

Zhongli’s words dissolve into embarrassing noises as Ajax’s hands roam downwards to his hips. The actual act of tickling and of being tickled by his lover isn’t something he particularly dislikes: the familiar exploration of Ajax’s hands and the almost determined, grinning face that peers down upon him, if anything, warms his heart. But it is the principle of the matter—that he is a guest at Ajax’s home, generously welcomed as his lover, and rather than setting the family peacefully to sleep he is instead laughing his head off at the hands of the man he is meant to trust the most, at a surely obscene time of the night.

Succinctly put, it’s incredibly rude to be so loud in someone else’s home. Even more so when his laughter echoes in his own ears, wild and desperate at the way Ajax knowingly digs his thumbs in little circles at the center of his hips.

“Naa—AhahaHAHAHAJAHAHAX!”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

It’s too much, not enough, the feeling of his lover’s hands mapping out familiar patterns along his body; Zhongli’s heart thrums in his chest, both hungry for more and aching for a rest. His fingers grapple with Ajax’s, pulling at the bullying hands prying desperate giggles from his throat, but they only dig in deeper with every attempt. “EnouGHAHAHAHAA! STAHAHhahahap!”

“Wellll, I don’t know, should I stop~”

“YeheHEHEHEHEHES! NOHOHO MOOHEHEHEHRE!” Laughter leaves him dizzy when the hands crawl downwards teasingly, pinching his hips and then his inner thighs as he squirms; mercy comes at last when his legs give out beneath him, sending them both to the ground. They don’t crash, luckily, Ajax’s arms crossing around his chest protectively and landing them comfortably on the carpet instead. The contact is still enough to have him giggling, shoulders twisting inwards to protect himself from further tickling.

“Waiahait… Ehehe, stahahap!”

“I’m not even tickling you anymore!” Ajax’s hands rise from his torso to his shoulders, tugging Zhongli back until he’s leaning against his chest, Ajax’s knees rising up to form a protective barrier around his own. Blue eyes enter his tired vision, a hand cradling his cheek as Ajax furrows his brows. “You okay?”

He chuckles again, this time quiet and of his own volition. Ajax’s gaze softens, sweet, and he silently thanks the fact that his thrumming heart could be associated with the tickling attack and not the fervent urge to pull the other down into a kiss. “Ahahaha… Rather odd words from the person who’d chosen to render me in such a state.”

“Hey, this was much needed vengeance after what you’ve put me through today!”

“Was it?” One would think that he’d have learned after Ajax’s “vengeance” about prodding a sleeping narwhal for fun, but Zhongli had been honest when he said his teasing only came from sincere adoration. He leans into Ajax’s palm, nuzzling it before pressing a kiss against the bare wrist and smiling as Ajax’s eyes follow the motion. “Is that all the vengeance you wished to enact on me?”

Ajax swallows. His mouth parts, tongue swiping his bottom lip and leaving it glossy. “Well, I—”

“Do you two have any idea what time it is?!”

Ah. Right. They’re still in Ajax’s parent’s house.

“M-mama! I wasn’t—we weren’t—um, well…!” Zhongli blinks upwards as Ajax all but whole-body flinches away, mouth sputtering as Ajax’s mother stares down at them. Her kind smile at the dinner table remains fixed, but her eyes are…

Even an archon has things they know to fear. Celestia, Descenders, mother-in-laws, to name a few.

“Save it,” she sighs, pinching her nose in exasperation before moving her gaze to Zhongli. “Take him to bed, will you?”

“Wha—hey, he’s the guest!”

“And who was causing all that ruckus?”

Both of them, technically, but it’s clear the madame of the house (understandably) has little patience left for any antics. Ajax bites his cheek as Zhongli chuckles; he rises to his feet, steady now after resting in Ajax’s arms, and pulls the pouting ginger up with him. “My sincere apologies for the ruckus. We’ll be in bed shortly, I promise.”

“I’d hope so,” she says, her gaze returning to Ajax. They stare at each other a moment, her eyes shiny, before she nods. “Good night, you two. And,” her eyes return to him. “Happy birthday, Zhongli. I hope we can celebrate it again next year.”

Next year. He returns her kind smile, squeezing Ajax’s hands. “I’ll be sure to return.”

He waits for her footsteps to recede before Zhongli turns to Ajax, triumph flashing in his gaze. “It appears that I’ve left a successful impressi—hm!”

Ajax’s lips leave him far too quickly only to return again, persistent, hands pulling him into another. They’re quick kisses, breathless and giddy, filling each other’s spaces only long enough to leave them longing for more. He chases after Ajax, maybe, or it’s Ajax who chases after him. They meet in the middle regardless and Zhongli smiles into the kisses that follow.

Perhaps Ajax had a point about the second birthday. He’s already looking forward to the next.