#earth oven slow

[thirteenemeraldcats]

Ye ole tag game!

Tagged by the incredibly talented (and all around incredible) @fanficfanattic to post the last sentence I wrote!

He’s still propped against Roy’s side; head still firmly planted into the solid place where Roy’s arm meets his chest. If he concentrates, if he squints his tired eyes and holds his gentle breath, he can hear the steady thump-thump of the older man’s heart. 

Posting two sentences because 🤷‍♀️

Tagging with no pressure @jamietarttsnorthernattitude @jamiesfootball @sighonaraa @kvetchinglyneurotic @abubblingcandle @nativestarwrites and literally anyone/everyone who wants to share!

[starconstruction]

Hypothermia and The Cosmos

Yena x Male Reader

Wc:4248

Tags: blowjob, pussy eating, face riding creampie, masturbation,

not proof read.

2072.

Everyone could have predicted the planet being uninhabitable, the rate industrial production sped up exponentially. Nobody wanted to slow down their ventures for more and more money, it wasn't until 2068 where every carbon sink had completely fallen through. Nowhere in the worlds air supply was safe to breathe. The stench of methane as the sky was blocked out. The sun couldn't pierce the thick fog of disease that hung itself across the earth's surface, leaving an eternal dusk that never ceased for brighter times for humanity.

Now humanity's survival was dependant on a mere couple thousand people, those who signed up for the planetary expeditions. A subsect of the divisions designed to protect humanity for years to come, the goal was simple. Find a planet that was habitable and scalable. Today was the day where everyone was heading out, arming yourself in the mandatory assigned space gear, the unpleasant stench of new plastic and nylon mixed with the environmental methane to make something apphrensibly disgusting to breathe into.

You grabbed onto the rails of the staircase, pulling upwards as your gear lulled behind. A crew of 32 including you were grouped together, this was the first time any of you had met. Their presence was both comforting and uncomforting, a pendulum of emotions as everyone loaded the ship full of their stuff.

Your crew gathered into your living quarters, it was a simple design. Two large components connected by a singular hallway, the company thought it'd be cheaper to make them two full inclusive units as opposed to relying on each other. The ship was fully equipped with a kitchen area, containing a brand new kettle, oven, microwave, toaster and tap. The tap didn't have any water properties in itself. But thanks to the companies glorious technology, it can siphon planetary liquid with ease! The scent of coffee pierced the usually pungent atmosphere, being handed a cup by someone completely unknown. The coffee tasted like dirt as it slid down your throat, coffee apparently used to taste better than this. Before the soil got completely filled with disgusting plastics and gases.

The ship has two dynamic captains operating the helm of your operation, one of them was a small man, 5'6? He had brown hair that was being constrained by the tight helmet he was obliged to wear. And his body was slightly out of shape, you didn't know him very well but he seemed average personality wise. He was sat on his pilot chair, legs kicked up against the centre console waiting for liftoff. The other pilot juxtaposed his entire existence. She was anything but average, her hair a dual toned masterpiece, pink and black converged upon each other. She wasn't wearing her helmet yet, allowing you to bask in her entire glory. Her hair ran straight down to her back, you couldn't see her face while she faced the smog filled atmosphere from outside, sipping on the nasty complementary coffee. She was really pretty, but you knew nothing about her personality. Not uttering a word to anyone on this ship since she arrived.

The company provided sirens rung out through the air, firing a blaring warning that take off had to be imminent. The elusive girl put her helmet on and sat up properly, running her nails across the controls as she set up. For some reason the majority of the crew was in the left wing. Chatting it up about nothing in particular as the ship whirred to life. You and the strange pilot was all who was on this side.

Checking the gear stores for your side, the company provided tools for every scenario, ice picks, new motors, batteries, the budget for these missions were unfathomable. Humanity fell on all of you, it's a thought that weighed on your very soul. Weeks of preparation lead up to this mission, it can not fail.

The two space pilots pressed a few tiny buttons, engaging the core engines on the side of the craft, bright LEDs shot out to brightened the fog on the surface as the dirt whipped up by the ships motions. Their movement was synchronised to an art, engaging their ignition as the fuel burned violently. The ship slowly heading into orbit, escaping the disgusting fog in a brief respite. Atmosphere parting away for a clean celestial view, it was going to be a long long flight as you laid on down on the floor.

-

Space was serene, no noises of coughing through the diseased land of earth, only murmurs of chatter could be heard from the other dock, it was a nice contrast from what you had to deal with back on earth. You could get used to this, the strange pilot had long since put the ship on autopilot, letting it drift itself across space. She approached the kitchen, making herself another cup of coffee. Two cups? The mysterious woman brought the two cups towards where you were sitting. Placing them gently on the ground next to the both of you. Crouching down as her suit crunched, lifting the visor up in order to more effectively communicate with you.

"So, what's your name?" Her words were blunt which contrasted with her sweet sugary voice, she gave out a breathy laugh to break the tension between the two of you.

"Y/N. What about you mysterious pilot?" her face visibly cringed at your attempt at a joking nickname, her eyes rolling as she contemplating just walking away. "It's, Yena. Nice to meet you Y/N" she kept sipping on her coffee as her bluntness sapped on your confidence. You two kept exchanging words, none of them were super important or significant as you focused on her beauty, her face was utterly divine, her eyes were enchanting, large bountiful pupils. Her lips were a soft pink, smooth and full of character. Yena tolerated your dry humour and missed punchlines, giving you fake laughter as she jokingly slapped you.

Yena said her goodbyes and got up, her hips swaying as she slowly walked back to her chair. You had to get your hormones under control, she was a crew member and deserved respect.

-

A few hours had passed as you checked inventory to take your mind off Yena, months of food for everyone. Crates of personalised clothes, you brought a mix of clothes for every possible situation. Warm clothes designed for the frozen wastelands, fur coats and gloves. Minimal clothes for scorching climates, a strange mix of shorts, t-shirts and a mix of nic-nacs.

"Fuck!" It was Yena, desperately trying to regain control of the ship as a swarm of asteroids appeared in front of the ship. Various shapes and sizes threatening to crush your entire project.

"Why the FUCK is he not turning!" Yena frantically turned to the right, but the ship wasn't moving fully. The once synchronised pact now disjointed as you panicked. Dropping what you were doing, scraping your feet against the metal as you urgently tried to get to the other side. The pilot was going to get you all killed, the airlock door launched open.

A massive explosion burst out in front of you, sparks flying overhead as metal launched out into orbit. The two halves of the ship now divided.

The sudden loss of pressure nearly throws you out of the ship, boxes of supplies getting thrown out into the vast abyss of space.

Fuck.

Engine batteries, fuel, clothes and more was being thrown out of orbit. Sharp jolts of pain firing through your body as you got hit again and again. Struggling to reach the airlock door button as Yena frantically ran over to you, taking your hand in hers as you got thrown onto the ground. The airlock door closing as the room went silent.

"Shit." One shared word was all that was said as you looked at your inventory, food sprawled over your food. Frozen products shattered, clothes strung over various objects. Atleast those materials survived, all your vital ship pieces thrown overboard.

"We just lost so much Yena." You said briskly, the alarm from earlier didn't stop. Yena panicked and ran back to the helm, dragging you in tow.

"Y/N! Our engine is broken!! I will route us to the only livable planet nearby but it's not pleasant" you nodded as she set your route in motion.

-

The ship landed with a violent thud, crippling further components as they bended under the rock you smashed into. It was cold, really really fucking cold. You could feel it piercing your suit as your skin started to burn up with frostbite.

You looked at Yena and your jaw dropped as the colour was draining from her face, her eyes looked soulless. A loud bang rolled out as she hit the ground. Her body now rendering unconscious, you had to find heat before it was too late for both of you. An axe adorned in pink was lodged into the metal next to the airlock button, it had to be Yena's. You pryed it from the rubble and rushed outside. The cold dug knives into your back as you frantically scanned for trees. Shivers ran down your spine as ice crystallised on the corner of your eyes where the tears formed. A cluster of trees were completely obfuscated by blankets of snow, raining down on your skin as every part of you wanted to shut down.

Smashing Yena's axe into the side of the tree took considerable effort, barely piercing through the thick bark as the cold raged on. The sound of the snowstorm buzzed in your ears as snow landed on every section of your body. You two couldn't die now.

The wood eventually relented, splitting into a small enough log you could throw on your back. The snow made movement slow and sluggish as you desperately fought back to get across. Wood fell at your knees as you finally got back into the ship, slapping the airlock button as the room went quiet. You needed to light this wood urgently, thankfully Yena mentioned wanting to smoke in your earlier conversations. Rushing over to her desk you snagged her shining lighter. You were so close.

*click*

Come on

*click*

Not the time!

*click*

A flame erupted from the small lighter, pressing it deep into the small twigs as it caught fire, slowly spreading to the thicker wood. It wasn't warm, but it was warm enough. Your hands hooked around Yena's body as you pulled her frigid body close to yours. Holding her close to desperately share body heat as you sat by the fire. Eventually succumbing to the tiredness.

-

The world came back into focus as your body felt overly warm, nearly swelteringly hot. Yena was still resting in your arms, her skin returned back to its previous self. You slithered out, the room was so fucking hot. Unnaturally so, looking outside confirmed your lingering suspicions. The sky was red and the heat was leeching through, a stark contrast from the frigid temperatures a few hours prior. What the fuck was with this planet? You needed to change before you passed out from heat exhaustion, sweat trickling down the temple of your head as you put out the campfire.

Your space suit was thrown off as you swapped into the shortest clothes you owned. Yena was still asleep to the world, her breaths being long and patient while her body recovered.

You took the company provided axe, significantly less interesting than Yena's axe. The pink being replaced by a standard wood finish. You had to get enough wood incase that temperature was normal.

-

You got back to the ship as the temperature started to decline back into the arctic nightmare, Yena was laying down on the pull out bed. Wearing clothes that left little to the imagination, crimson booty shorts emphasised her delectable curves. Her legs ran down seemingly endlessly, a sheen of sweat from the abhorrent temperature made her skin glow radiantly. Snapping back to reality as you prepped the firewood for the night.

"Our fucking shower doesn't work and the world is a scorching sweaty shithole!" Yena yelled in your general direction. Frustratedly shaking the pillow locked in her embrace. You could understand her complaints, after all. You could smell both of you and it wasn't pleasant.

" Don't worry! It gets even worse Yena! At night it becomes a frozen wasteland! So you might want to change, and even worse! Our temperature regulator is broken!" You exclaimed, running out of breath as the gravity of the situation came to life. Yena stormed off to change as the night plummeted. You guys didn't have a place to securely change so you turned around. Then you changed.

You two sat by the campfire, appreciating the shelter from the cold closing in all around you.

"Yena, we need a plan. We aren't going to survive in these conditions and I'm not going to die yet." Yena's face was unreadable, the first time you couldn't tell what she was feeling. Her legs tightened as she set and reflected on the situation.

"I've got a plan. We can fix all 3 of the components with some wood and flint, thankfully the technology is designed to work with every fuel source! We just need to get them, as for fixing the engine... That might be a longer plan" Yena spoke with a child like wonder as she gesticulated all her plans, telling you components and how to fix those things you needed so desperately.

-

A week passed as you guys prepared food and general survival before moving onto what you desired.

You two first wanted to fix the temperature regulator, the whiplash every 12 hours was intolerable as you had to burn through so many outfits you couldn't wash with the current supplies. Creating a mess, you two threw all your clothes in one pile.

This was the easiest goal of yours. The two of you went out with your axe and Yena's modified axe. Dicing through enough wood creating a nice collection of scraps usable to repair the first part of your ship.

You and Yena worked together to fix it, jabbing fragments of flint and wood into various documented nodes as you felt it keep a consistent flow of temperature. Helping to reduce the rapid flow of clothes accumulating in the ship.

The next was the shower. You and Yena smelt awful and it was seriously starting to bug you, it required near perfect precision and grinding down the materials to a perfect size. You and Yena made a fantastic team.

It was now night, with the shower and temperature regulators restored you two freshened up thanks to the company's "Infi-Soap" one of the few inventions they managed to muster with the trillions invested into their company.

Yena let you go first, the water spraying down your body for the first time, it was lukewarm as you rubbed the soap all over your body, feeling the dirt and grime wash away as the lather formed all over you. It felt fantastic to not feel completely disgusting.

The shower wasnt exactly the bastion of privacy, it had a small curtain to prevent prying eyes but not much else. Getting out of the shower you quickly ran to change.

You weren't aware of it, but Yena was absently staring at the shower. You pulled the curtain back and your cock was showing for a second while you got out. Yena realised she was staring and turned around. Those lewd thoughts entered her mind for the first time in forever, she rarely ever thought about sex. But it'd been awhile, she wasn't ready for the real thing just yet. But she wanted to get over a big fear of hers.

Yena hopped in the shower, desperate to get away from the grime that encapsulated her body, rubbing the soap into every crevice of her body. Those earlier thoughts entering her body yet again, her lower body heating up as she felt her liquid pool on her lower lips. Yena felt guilt as she licked her fingers, knowing it was wrong to do it so close to someone. Regardless she descended her hand lower, leaning against the wall as she slowly inserted one finger, letting out a needy gasp. Messily rubbing her clit as she put a second finger in. Reaching her knuckles as she went in and out. The pleasure overwhelming her as she thought of your cock. It'd been so long it didn't take her long to cum. Sliding down the shower wall as her head went numb from the mind blowing orgasm. She cleared her thoughts and went outside.

-

Later you two sat by the campfire, no longer a necessity but a luxury as it created a cozy atmosphere for you two to indulge in. She was sucking on a lollipop that she brought with her, the way that her tongue danced around it filled your mind with lewd thoughts again. She was effortlessly sexy. You had to distract yourself.

"So, Yena. Your parents ever tell you much about old earth?" your voice was stuttering as her lollipop released her from her mouth with a pop.

"Yeah, she always talked about a fogless earth, one filled with real butterflies! Not just artificial ones! God if I was there I would have taken so many pictures" she said, her voice trailing off as she thought of her personal utopia.

"Was never a huge fan of butterflies, moths though. I would have loved to see some moths."

"Moths?? What are you an emo boy?" She laughed slightly.

The night flowed on as you talked about the old world that neither of you ever got to experience, Yena finishing her lollipop as she threw it into the cold outside that suffocated your ship.

You approached the campfire getting ready to put it out as a firm grasp on your arm prevented you, Yena. Her gaze was telling you to wait up.

"Hey, Y/N. Its been a long day. You trust me right?" she pleaded with you as she spoke softly.

You nodded and Yena laid you down as she got on her knees. You were shocked as she got closer between your legs.

"I, don't want you to laugh at me. I want to suck your dick. Please please please!" she was rambling slightly as she fidgeted.

You nodded yet again as her hands pulled down your pants and your boxers in one fell swoop. Pooling into your legs, revealing your hardening shaft.

Yena gulped as she stared at it, her fingers tried to touch your cock but reeled back, her face painted a look of panic. Breathing deeply as she closed her eyes.

"Yena are you alrig-" you started, but she quickly interjected "Yes! I can do this... I can do this.." she murmured to herself.

Her fingers gently touched your shaft, the touch was light and shaky. She held there as she smiled, breaking past one of her boundaries. She stroked slowly, getting used to the feeling of your cock pressing against her fingers, the lack of lubricant made every motion come with a slight twinge of difficulty for Yena.

Yena drooled over your cock from a distance, coating her fingers as she rubbed it into your shaft, driving you mad with her intense strokes.

Yena's tongue made contact with the base of your shaft, pulling away as your musk caught her off guard. Spluttering spit as she coughed aggressively. Her eyes locked up into you with sheer determination as she went in for another attempt. Running it up from the base to the tip. Warm breath tickling your shaft as she got more brazen with her licks. You groaned as Yena made out with your cock, pressing kisses into the tip as she coaxed the precum out. Gagging slightly as bitter liquid made contact with her tongue.

Yena ceased her movements as she pulled away, generating a thick glob of her spit which she spat on the tip of your shaft. Her determination was admirable.

Yena spoke, "I can do it, I can do it. If I reach the bottom you can throat fuck me. When your about to cum, pull me off." before you could react Yena's lips were parting as the tip of your dick entered her warm mouth. You moaned as your hips bucked involuntarily. Causing Yena to panic and withdraw.

" I'm sorry Ye-" she cut you off again with a gentle suck on your tip. Her plush lips were pillows for your dick as she tried again. Her sticky saliva coating your dick as she pressed lower. Hands pressing into your thighs for reassurance as she got used to your length. Heat radiated as she took you to heaven. Reaching the base as her nose pressed into your pubes as harsh gags leaked out from her stuffed mouth.

Yena took her hands off your legs, wrapping her dual toned hair around her slender fingers, gifting you makeshift ponytails. She couldn't talk with her mouth so she talked with her eyes pleading with you to use her mouth. Fully into the role of a needy cocksleave. Her tongue swirled around your tip. Hollowed cheeks providing a suction as you penetrated her mouth, lifting her violently up and down as she sputtered even more saliva, coughing as it ended all over your legs. Yena couldn't keep her eyes open as you got rougher and rougher. Pressing against her throat, vibrations amplifying the sensations of her acts.

The feeling of your orgasm was imminent, tensing up as you threw Yena off your cock, her breathing heavy and laboured. Stroking your Yena drenched cock rapidly with her hand, seeing stars as she raised from knees. You were seconds from erupting as Yena's shirt came up. Exposing a tasty midriff as your cock was pressed into her toned stomach, shooting ropes of thick semen as she kept jerking.

The canvas of her chest was now painted with your semen, Yena smiled as she admired her work. Dried spit coating the corners of her lips, her hair frazzled and screwed after you manhandled her.

"Y-Yena, you did it! Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Thank you, let's go clean up."

-

Since that day, you two slept in the same bed, not that there was ever enough space. The ship only providing small pull out beds meaning Yena and you had to create a tangle of bodies to accommodate each other. Her chest heaving as she gingerly breathed, encapsulated in her dream world, she was so cute like this.

You two set your sights to the moon, literally. You and Yena prepared to find a way out off this hellhole, it wasn't going to be easy. The batteries were completely drained and repairing them would require a miracle.

You and Yena were scouting the planet one day, attempting to make a hastefully drawn map of resources. It was like two different universes, at night everything was covered in snow and sleet. Ice spikes form in ravines. At day, the snow swapped out for surges of heat.

You two walked in the blanketed forest, taking notes on the surrounding paths, snow crunched under the two of you. Your jaw dropped, a strange grey ghoulish figure stood in front of you. Bones pressing out of the flesh, nails being bent upwards 90*, organs visibly exposed.

"What the fuck is that thing?" You and Yena spoke in unison, surprised as it runs towards you. Panicking as it tackles Yena to the ground, attempting to bite into her flesh as a struggle ensued. You grabbed Yena's knife from the ground. A swift jab coated your hand in a strange green liquid as it went limp, shoving it to the ground, Yena looked up in fear. Neither of you two felt as confident anymore.

-

It was 3:32am. You and Yena were particularly frustrated as you two found nothing for the third expedition in a row. So frustrated in fact you had Yena on your face. Pussy grinding against your tongue as her hips moved desperately chasing her high, her moans filled the spacecraft as you drowned in her. Her taste was so distinctly Yena, begging for more. Hands grabbing her ass as you pressed her further in. Rhythmic licks went from top to bottom, bumping against her clit as your saliva became an equal with her juices. Yena put your hair in a choke hold, pulling it roughly as you coaxed her to her orgasm. A shrill screech as she came undone on top of you. Falling into the bed.

Yena wasn't one for words when her actions could speak louder, ripping off your clothes as she grinded against you, gasps filling the room as she lubed you up with slick. Putting it in with reckless abandonment, the sounds of skin clapping relentless on the ears as her tightness gripped you. Neither of you were going to last particularly long as she bounced incessantly. Her hair sticking to her head and creating a beautiful frame of her beauty.

The well detonated inside both of you on the final thrust, painting Yenas walls white with your sticky seed, breathing a sigh of contempt as the anger of you two disappeared.

Yena kept it brief "Your my boyfriend now. And we are finding the engine parts tomorrow"

A/N wow I lost steam so rapidly towards the end. Still proud of the rest of the work.

part 2

[sobbingscripter]

DAY 7: Seven Swans a-Swimming

☃️A Together Christmas☃️

Tags: [ex-husband!Booster Gold][fingering][cunnilingus][hear me out][he's 6 foot 5][Santa costume][fingering][strong womanxman child][uses of "miss"]

A/N: my Beta reader is asleep so it's not proofread T-T

❄️☃️❄️

"You don't look a day over 40."

If there was one thing you learnt in the 4 years of being married to Michael, it's that he will always try to provoke you whenever he sees you.

And right now is prime time for him.

Rip wants a 'together Christmas', where his divorced parents sit across from each other at the dinner table, passing various dishes rather than insults and nefarious commentary, and act like they can be in the same room without wanting to choke on a horizontal chicken wing.

"Michael, don't make me beat you with a hot muffin tray." You seethe, eyes locked on the tray of muffins that you're carefully pulling out of the oven, warmth and the scent of vanilla filling the kitchen.

Michael watches the curve of your neck as you carefully inspect each muffin, popping them out of the tray and setting each on the cooling rack. There's a smeer of batter just below your left eye, and before Michael knows it, he's dragging his tongue across the side of your face.

You grimace at the sensation, nearly gagging before letting out a shriek.

"You sick freak!" You grunt, rubbing your cheek along the cable knit fabric over your shoulder to rid your skin of the sensation of Michael's wet... Long... Superiorly skilled tongue.

Before Michael can respond, Rip toddles into the kitchen, bookbag slung over his shoulder before dropping it at his feet, a toothy grin at the sight of Michael who immediately scoops the 7 year old into his arms.

"Hey buddy," Michael grins, "How was school?"

"I won the Spelling Bee!" Rip brags, zipping open his heavy and thick parka jacket, before boastfully showing his father pinback button on the front of his hoodie, a bee with spectacles being the character on it.

You brush past the two, pressing a sweet kiss against Rip's temple before grabbing the cookie dough, the bowl clasped in your hands and you listen to the way Michael boasts and brags about his... Hero thing.

If there's one thing that makes you so bitter, it's that you can never shit on the way he parents.

He's a good hero, and a better dad, which... If you think about it, balances out the 'shitty husband' part. Well... A lot of things balance it out when you look at it from the fact that Michael could dick you to the core of the Earth.

The mere thought has your grip on the spoon tightening, and you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to fix your expression but those ocean blue eyes are already locked on your pensive expression, and Michael's gently ushering Rip towards the staircase.

"Go do your homework, buddy. And turn the TV up, mommy and me need to talk." Michael hums quietly, and Rip nods his head, leaving Michael alone with you in the kitchen.

Slow steps bring Michael towards you, his hands resting on the counter on either side of you, and a warm breath brushes against your ear as Michael dips his head lower.

"Weirdo." Michael teases. "Getting all hot 'n bothered 'cause I'm a good dad."

You grimace, a snarky remark on the tip of your tongue but then you smell that cologne. He smells like cinnamon and wood chips, an expensive and heady scent that you just know is bougie enough to give you a headache if you're around it too much.

And your words stutter in your throat, dying down their and converting itself into the crimson heat that overtakes the back of your neck as his hands slowly creep under your sweater, warm palms pressing against your even hotter flesh and Michael lets out a shuddering breath.

"You smell so good, miss."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Michael lets out shuddering breath, his nose nudging at your clit as his tongue drags long, sloppy stripes along your messy slit, slick threatening to dribble down your thighs but never getting the chance, with Michael's eager tongue.

"Mhm... Missed you." He breathes out, swallowing as he looks up at you through blonde lashes, his eyes already hazy as his broad, muscular fingers grip the backs of your thighs. He kneads the fat of your flesh, memorizing the feel of your plumpness in his palms out of fear that you won't let him near you ever again.

Michael's lips (more moisturized than yours) wrap around around your clit, and he sucks on the needy little bud, watching as your hand moves to cover your mouth, eager to not make any sounds for fear of traumatizing your child. And Michael lets out a low groan, the rumbling vibrations making your legs turn into jelly and if it weren't for his hands anchoring you, you'd have melted into a puddle by now.

"Michael..." You breathe out, your fingers moving to card through his golden tresses and you watch the way his eyes nearly roll back in his head at the feel of your manicured nails raking against his scalp and you feel his fingertips dig into your flesh.

"Fuck, you taste so good." Michael praises quietly, his hand moving to your inner thigh and raising your leg, propping one of your sock covered feet onto the counter, and your hip cracks at the strain.

A loud sound in the quiet kitchen, filled with the soft 'tic tic tic' of the oven, and bated breaths shared between the two of you.

And a boyish laugh tumbles from Michael's lips before he can even stop it, pulling away to peer up at you.

"Nobody's working you out, huh?"

Michael teases, before dipping two of his digits into his mouth, and you watch as cobwebs of saliva decorate his muscular digits before he slowly drags them down your already sloppy cunt and Michael watches you shiver.

Before slowly sliding those fingers into you, long, thick digits stretching your hole and your nails dig into the chub of your cheeks, as your other hand tightens it's grip on his hair. Tufts of blonde strands poke haphazardly through your fingers, and Michael groans at the sensation.

"That's it, baby, pull my hair." Michael croons, lowering his head back down and his tongue drags over your clit, and he watches as your eyes roll back.

His fingers curl, knuckles pressing at your plump and sopping pussy lips, and you feel the rough pads of his fingers press against that gooey spot that makes drool threaten to dribble down your chin, and you wipe away the sliver of slobber, eyes locked on Michael.

He looks in his element.

Nose brushing against your mound, tongue circling and flicking against your oversensitive clit and two fingers, pumping into you, chilly golden rings kissing your lips with each thrust. His hair's messy but you keep carding your fingers through the strands, just to hear that low groan that seems to rumble in his broad chest and you watch as his brilliant blue eyes flutter open to meet your gaze just as your orgasm crashes over you.

And it's like the world fucking stops.

The furrow of his dark blonde brows relaxes, and he pulls his head away, your slick trickling down his two digits and wetting the sleeve of his powder blue Henley, and before either of you can either...

Michael's standing between your thighs, one hand keeping your thigh lifted and anchoring your foot onto the counter, while the other slowly thrusts his fingers into your pouty mouth, soft lips wrapped around his digits, tasting yourself on his skin.

Just as he whispers quietly.

"Be a good girl and put it in."

Michael's instruction makes your stomach dip inward, arousal peaking and you swallow, nodding your head and your shaky hands fumble with the drawstring of his sweatpants.

"Just the tip." He adds quietly, brows knitting into a little adorable frown as your hand messily and uncoordinatedly strokes him, thumb tracing over his slit, and he swallows heavily, breaths deep and unsteady.

When you notch Michael at your entrance and slowly ease his flushed tip into your goopy and slick channel, he leans forward, his forehead resting in the curve of your shoulder as he whines quietly.

"You're so tight."

He shudders, pearly white teeth digging into the skin as he slowly bites down, eager to keep quiet because he knows that he's the loud one.

Hands move to bracket your hips, keeping you in place as he slowly fucks into you, savouring the feeling of your walls gripping his tip. And only his tip.

It's nowhere near enough, but the stretch is almost stupid.

It's unfair that Michael's got everything. Smarts, looks, body, dick. Not so much common sense but he makes up for it with his stupidly big heart.

You watch as that pink tip keeps disappearing behind your folds, and reappearing, slow strokes and you let out shaky breaths, hands moving to rest on either side of his neck, raising his gaze to yours.

Staring down at you with those sky blue eyes, lashes fluttering and your thumbs brush along his strong jaw, feeling the soft skin beneath your fingertips and Michael sighs, leaning into your touch.

"I lied." He murmurs softly. "You look like... 23, tops."

And Michael lets out a sigh before shaking his head, Prince Charming-esque bangs falling over his forehead.

"I need to pull out." Michael mutters.

"Why?" You question, brows knitting in confusion but you merely shiver as Michael pulls out of you, his cock still hard and pulsing as he tucks himself into the waistband of his boxers.

"Rip has math homework." Michael explains quietly, eyes lowered as he hooks his finger around the gusset of your panties, before covering up your cunt once again. Giving it a gentle and sweet pat.

"And he's... Half you so...." He hums. "You know how that'll go."

[kushnovice]

Spinning My World

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Stark! Reader

Synopsis: Reader tends to the avengers wounds constantly and when Tony opens an emotional wound in the reader, Bucky is there to help.

wc: 2.4k

Warnings: my first bucky fic, medical, wounds, tending to wounds, sibling rivalry, mention of dead parents, fluffy love, slow-burn, hurt/comfort

AN: Female reader, fluffy, lots of mistakes, self indulgent (Pictures are not mine nor are any characters part of this)

What makes the earth go round? to most people it's money, to others it's family. To me, it's love.

I grew up with Tony Stark, my older brother. He was never that big on affection which was something he picked up from our parents and because of that, Tony and I aren't as close as we once were before our parents died. I spend most of my time making sure the house is always put together and cooking food for Tony and Pepper. I always feel a little guilty as I haven't achieved as much as my older brother and living with him and all of his fancy things just rubs it in. I also spend a lot of time studying. Since we have the money, I am attending an Ivy League school online. Unlike Tony, I don't like robots and technology, I prefer to help people. I am majoring in Medical Science as well as minoring in Psychology, which the amount of work is unbearable.

I sigh as I close one of my textbooks, my notebook, and my laptop, leaving them on the desk in my room. I make my through the long winding halls and into the kitchen, the tiles on the floor leaving my feet cold as I walk. I flick on the light as I walk in and take a deep breath, finally feeling at peace. The kitchen was always my safe space since Tony never cooked for himself, neither did any of the avengers. It was my own tiny world of peace.

I smile softly to myself as I make my way to the sink, I start to wash my hands while humming a song. "Friday, can you play (song name)?" As the song starts playing, I feel more comfortable as I start pulling what I would need from the fridge and the cabinets. I then fill up a pot of water and put it on the stove to boil and preheat the oven before I start separating and seasoning the chicken. I then start to cut up some veggies before checking on the pasta that I am making. After everything is cooking, I take the time to dance in the kitchen, just enjoying the music and how it flows through my body. That was until I heard the door open. I jerk my head to see who it is, only to be stunned by the sight in front of me. There he was, the most beautiful creature this world had ever created, but he was drenched in blood. Without thinking, I walk right up to him and start to examine him from what I can see. "Oh buck, what happened this time?" I ask as I eye him up and down for injuries, feeling better after not finding any serious ones. Bucky sighed deeply, "The mission was hijacked. I'm not the only Injured one." I sigh deeply as I take the food out of the oven and put the veggies and sauce into the pasta. Then, without a second thought, i make my way to the medical clinic, which I pretty much run.

I put my coat on and wash my hands again before putting on gloves. I make my way into the emergency room that we have to see Tony laying on a gurney. I immediately start to cut his shirt and pants off as I examine his body, the deep wounds showing no mercy as they continue to bleed. I sterilize the wound and start stitching him up and taking my time to make sure it's perfect.

After a few hours, I was done with making sure Tony was alright and had checked out all of the other team members. I look at the clock and sigh deeply when I realize that it is close to 1 in the morning. I make my way through the winding hallways again and I stand outside of Buckys room. "Hey Buck, are you awake?" I ask softly knowing his super human hearing can pick up my voice, and sure enough because the door unlocks and slides open revealing that he had just got out of the shower. I blush slightly as i try not to stare at his bare chest, "oh um...sorry I was just coming to give you a quick check up..." I shuffle awkwardly at his door but he nods softly and lets me in his room.

The smell of Axe Body spray and Midsummers Night circle the room. I sit Bucky down as I start to stitch up a few of his wounds. It stays mostly silent, neither of us knowing what to talk about until Bucky speaks up, "aren't you tired?" I furrow my eyebrows, "why would I be tired?" Bucky sighs deeply, "we go on these missions almost daily and you're the only one who gives us medical help, isn't it tiring?" I look up from his stitches to smile softly at Bucky, "No, it's not tiring. If anything, it gives me a purpose and makes me a hero like you guys." I giggle to myself at how corny that sounded before going back to stich bucky up.

After I am done, I make sure I didn't miss any dry blood before I stand up, "make sure you eat dinner, I don't know if the others did yet but you need to eat." I smile at him to which he gives me a small smile at the end of his lips. "I did eat already, it was delicious." I smile at him as I watch him put his shirt back on, "good good, I tried a new recipe today so I'm glad it is good." I smile to myself thinking about how Bucky enjoyed my food. "Did you eat yet?" Bucky asks with a furrowed eyebrow and I'm left shocked, normally i'm the one asking that question. "I was about too, then all of that happened," I smile at Bucky but his facial expressions don't change this time. "You really should eat." I nod my head and start to make my way into the kitchen to see a huge mess of plates and bowls and forks all over the place and all of the food gone. "at least they liked it" I smile to myself as I shrug off my coat and take off my gloves, "Friday, some music please" I speak as I start to pick up the plates and bowls and utensil's and place them in the sink. I then pick up all the trash and wipe down the counter while dancing around the kitchen. I spend a few hours cleaning, until it is spotless before I turn off the music and realize I wasn't alone. As I go to grab my coat and turn off the light, I hear a voice, "Aren't you going to eat?" I whip my head around, looking for where the voice came from until I can see Bucky, just outside the door. "there was no more left, i'm glad everyone enjoyed it." I smile at him but he doesn't smile back, he makes his way into the kitchen and starts grabbing stuff. "woah woah woah what are you doing?" I ask as I watch him start up the stove. "You need to eat. More than any of us." Buckys voice is stern and emotionless but I can tell that he cares. "I'm alright, I'll be up in a few hours to cook breakfast anyways." I look at the time and then at Bucky who then turns to me with furrowed eyes again his eyes studying me and trying to figure me out as he looks me up and down. "Why do you cook for everyone? Why do you go out of your way for everyone? I don't get how that benefits you." I sigh deeply, "I don't do it for me, I do it for you guys. You guys are heros and are saving the world every day. the least I can do is cook you guys a warm meal and make sure you guys don't get too hurt." "But why?" Bucky asks as he cracks open an egg and starts to cook it. "You guys deserve it, you deserve the best." I smile at him softly, watching his movements while I think. "Why do you save the world?" I ask while watching his movements. He seems relaxed and calm "Because if I can help save the world then there's hope to save myself." He speaks in a quiet whisper, "why do you save us? why are you so interested in medicine?" He asks with seriousness, trying to understand me better. "I was never taught self defense so I save the world in the only way I know, medicine." Bucky turns to look at me, "you don't give yourself enough credit, no one does." I can hear how he sighs softly. I let myself smile, knowing this was his way of showing he cared. Bucky finished cooking the food and he made two plates, setting one in front of me while he sat across the table from me. He immediately downs his food within seconds leaving me to take awhile to finish my food. When I'm finished eating, I grab our plates and put them in the dishwasher. When i make my way back into the dining room, Bucky is watching me as soon as I enter the room. "What? Is there food on my face?" I jokingly ask, with a smirk on my face as I make my way back to sit down. Bucky snorts softly at my comment, "No, I just don't get how someone could look so pretty after working for so many hours." Buckys voice is soft but his eyes are full of emotion as his hands fold on the table. I feel myself melt under his gaze as my cheeks start to burn, "Oh, uhm...thanks..." I giggle lightly, "You aren't too bad looking for someone who just got stitched up." I reply causing bucky to be taken aback.

"Why are you two up at 2 in the morning?" Tony asks as he walks into the dining room in his black robe that is barely covering his bare chest and his blazers. Tony somehow still has his shades on as well as his slippers on as he sets down some coffee and a sandwich at the table and sits down. "I was just making sure your sister ate after giving everyone medical exams." Bucky replied as he stared blankly at tony as he ate. "Interesting." Tony replied quickly as he started to eat. "I'm glad that your mission didn't go to badly, not many people were injured." I smiled at Tony as I recall the injuries that everyone had got. Tony sighed as he swallowed the food in his mouth, "Do I get bonus points if I act like I care?" I roll my eyes at how immature Tony still is after all of these years. "Somebody's cranky." I snort to myself, Tony glares daggers at me. "Somebody needs to shut up." I smile at Tony, now enjoying fucking with him. "I don't have enough middle fingers to let you know how I feel." I smirk at Tony, thinking I got the better up. "Frankly, I don't care. Just like how he never cared about Mom and Dad. You know who killed them right?" Tony asks as he glares between Bucky and I. "If you're insinuating that Bucky killed our parents then fuck you!" I yell in Tony's face, not able to control my anger as I get up and storm off. Bucky looks at Tony as Tony finishes his sandwich, not purposefully glaring but staring deeply at him causing Tony to get uncomfortable and scramble out of the room.

Bucky sighs deeply as he makes his way to my room, thinking of the right words to say as he ends up right outside of my door. "Hey...I know Tony's words really hurt but I'd like to tell you my story, not what you've heard from files but my life the way I lived it, when I had control of my life." Bucky expected no response honestly, who would want to talk to their parents murderer? Surprisingly the door swung open as Bucky looked in at my small trembling figure on the floor, a pang in his heart caused him to lose his breath seeing her in such pain.

I lift my head to meet Buckys soft eyes as he moves to sit on the bed next to me. His voice was kind but also firm as he told me all about his life, from his time in Brooklyn with Steve all the way through Hydra, he spoke about my parents last almost as if to save me the pain. "Your parents...they were a mission I had to carry out while apart of Hydra, or else I would have died as well as them...I wish I never had too..." Bucky sighs deeply as he looks at the ground. "You don't have to be my friend or even be nice to me, but I just wanted you to know that I never wanted to hurt anyone." Bucky softly got up, expecting to be kicked out before he felt my hands wrapped around his human arm. "I want to be your friend. It hurts knowing that you did that to my parents and I don't think that hurt will ever go away, but I do know that it wasn't you, that you didn't do it on your own will. I forgive you, Buck." I speak softly as I wrap my arms around Bucky's human hand, taking his warmth from him as it comforts my shaking body as I am able to relax into my bed and into Bucky, feeling safe and comfortable for once. I don't remember what happened after that other than my eyes forcing themselves closed as Bucky's mechanical arm softly strokes my hair.

I wake up to the sun shining brightly in my eyes causing me to instantly rub my eyes. I stretch with a small groan, wishing to be asleep still as I reach my arms above my head. I hear a rough chuckle beside me and open my eyes to see Bucky smirking down at me, "Morning, Doll." I feel my face go red at the nickname. I roll over to face him in the bed, "I'm sorry that I kept you here all night." I apologize softly as I yawn the sleepy feeling away. He smiled softly down at me, the golden sun reflecting off of his eyes making it look like tigers eye. "You have nothing to apologize for, darling." He used his fingers to swoop the stray strands of hair out of my face. "It was the best sleep I have gotten in awhile." He confessed as he pulled me a little closer, his body heat keeping me warm as he smiled down at me cheekily. "Don't smile at me like that, you know it drives me crazy..." I giggle at him softly as I place my hand on his face before leaning in. Bucky closed the gap as he took my lips in his, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me in closer as he chuckles into the kiss.

"How else would I make your world spin?"

[girliism]

ghost face!artrick !!!!!!

(cw: mentions of blood and murder descriptions)

“god damnit, art hit the fucking ball higher.” patrick watches one of the coaches assigned by the academy berate art again, calling him an idiot under his breath. patrick tightens his grip on his tennis racket, imagining himself beating their coach in the head with it. “hello, earth to zweig.” hands clap in front of his face “switch with donaldson.”

art and patrick were the last ones left in the locker room. “you can’t keep letting that loser talk to you like that.” art slams the locker shut. this is conversation him and patrick have every time after practice. “what exactly would you like me to do? he’s an asshole that just like to pick on me.” patrick could hear in art’s voice how he was in fact hurt by what their coach says no matter how he tried to hide it. “i’ll do something about, don’t worry.” patrick through his arm over his best friends shoulder giving him a smile.

a few nights later patrick was driving around slightly tipsy, swerving a little on the empty road. art feared for his life in the passenger seat. “dude, you’ve got to slow the fuck down. where the hell are we even going.” art asked, before taking the beer bottle from patrick’s hand, stealing a sip. partick took his eyes off the road to watch art’s lips wrap around the bottle. the same bottle his lips were just wrapped around.

they parked across the street in front of their coaches house. “what the fuck are we doing here patrick?” patrick ignored him, reaching in the back seat. “put this on and follow me.” art stares at the black robe, ghost mask and voice box patrick threw at him. the two of them cross the street taking place behind a tree right outside their coaches house. “stay here and count to sixty then call his house phone, be scary.” patrick instructed him, shoving a burner phone into his hand running towards the back of the house. art had no idea what the fuck patrick was up too, if he wanted to prank call their coach why’d didn’t they just do it at his house?

when art reached sixty he dialed the number listening to the ringing. art watch though the window from his place behind the tree as the man inside got up to answer the phone.

“hello.”

“hello.”

“who is this?”

“who is this?” art echoed his question back to him not knowing what to say.

the man on the other end scoffed. “alright kid very funny, have a nice night.”

the dial tone rung in arts ear. his coach had hung up on him and was walking away back to his living room but art called back.

their coach picked up the phone.

“you hung up on me, i just wanted to talk.”

“then go talk to your mommy.” he went to hang up the phone once again.

“wait. let’s play a game.”

even from far away art could see his coach getting agitated. “listen kid, i don’t know what you think you’re trying to do but fine, i’ll play your little game.”

“good, i think we should play hmm… i spy.”

a laugh came through the phone. “i spy? you can’t even see me.”

“who said i couldn’t see you.”

there’s a pause and art can see his coach stand a little straighter going to look out his window.

“i’ll go first. i spy with my little eye something… black.”

it was at this time patrick had found a way into the house and was sneaking up behind him.

“what’s taking so long, go on guess.”

“my microwave.”

“nope.”

“the remote?”

“wrong again. almost at your last guess.”

the man is looking around his kitchen. “the-the oven.”

“oh, we have a loser.”

“ok kid, you’ve had your fun now go find someone else to terrorize.”

“but wait, you didn’t even ask what it was.”

patrick’s robed and masked figure towers over him from behind, and before the coach could answer a gloved hand taps him on the shoulder.

“i spy with my little eye something black.”

watching from outside, art sees their coach quickly slam the phone into patrick’s face causing him to stumble. what art wasn’t expecting to see was his best friend pull out a knife, slashing it towards the man who was quick to throw up his arm.

the blood the flowed from the cut on the man’s arm awoke something in patrick. his grip tightened on his knife charging at the man. art pulled his ghost mask on and ran towards the house. when art got into the house their was broken glass everywhere and patrick sat on top of the man, drawing back his hand the was holding the knife behind driving it straight into the older man’s gut. “patrick!” art shouted at him, eyes wide not believing that he just witnessed his friend fucking stab someone. “what the fuck are you doing, we were just supposed to scare him.” patrick pulled the knife free, some blood squirted from the wound landing on patrick’s mask. “but dude, this is so much better.” the bleeding man reached his arm out towards art. “help me.” he choked out, before patrick stabbed him again.

patrick stood up point the knife in art’s direction. “alright your turn.” his turn? “i can’t, i can’t fucking murder someone.” art was shaking his head. “he’s not gonna feel anything he’s already half dead.” patrick took off his mask and pulled art’s up, getting close to his face. “this guy art, he’s a fucking asshole the world won’t miss him. think of all the times he talked down on you, called you a disgrace that you can’t play for shit.” memories flashed through art’s head of everytime their coach made him feel like shit and suddenly he was reaching for the knife in patrick’s hand pulling his mask back over his face.

“please don’t.” blood was trickling out this side of his mouth, but it all went deaf in art’s ears as he brought the knife in his hand down into the man’s stomach over and over. all patrick could do was just stand there. the world had went silent for art he didn’t even realize what was happening till patrick finally pulled him off. “i think he’s gone now dude.” art ripped his mask off. the two of them stood there. “we have to go.”

the walk back to the car patrick felt he had just done the purest line of coke ever and was riding the best high, art on the other hand was spiraling. “dude what the fuck did we just do.” art stopped infront of patrick’s car. “something our entire team will be thanking us for, we’ll not us specifically but you know what i mean.” how could patrick be so calm about this. “we just fucking murdered someone patrick!” art paced back and forth hands pulling at his hair. patrick placed his hand on art’s shoulder stopping him. “honey, calm down. no one’s gonna know it was us so stop freaking, it’s not like you didn’t enjoy it.” the smug smile on patrick’s face was pissing art off and he shoved patrick away from him. “enjoy it? i didn’t fucking enjoy that you psycho! and because of you we’re probably going to jail. god! why am i friends with you all you do is get me into trouble all the fucking time-” patrick kissed him. all the adrenaline mixed patrick’s repressed feelings for him and the way art was yelling at him had a tent growing in patrick’s pants.

art didn’t push patrick away he opened his mouth kissing him back. “is it weird that i kinda want you to fuck me right now?” patrick panted. art shook his head pushing his lips back on patrick’s. the kiss was messy and rushed, noses bumped and tongues twisting around each other. patrick reached behind art opening the car door turning the two of them around so he could fall into the backseat with art on top of him. the black robes they were wearing are pulled off and thrown into the front seat. art kissed and bit at patrick’s neck and patrick’s hands slid down the front of arts chest pulling at his belt. “fuck, want you.” patrick bucked his hips up. art’s never seen patrick act like this. “what a slut killing turns you into?” patrick nods his head. art laughed undoing patrick’s belt pulling his pants down freeing patrick’s cock then his own.

taking a condom patrick always has in his glove department, art slides it onto himself. patrick sat up on his elbows watching art gather spit into his mouth before dropping it down on his hole. with strong hands, art held open patrick’s legs sliding into him with a low groan. “fuck, dude no prep?” patrick’s wince turned into a moan when art bottomed out. “you’re so tight it’s not even funny.” art bit his lip pulling his hips back before thrusting them forward. patrick’s head fell back with a moan. if you would have told art earlier that he would be fucking his best friend in the backseat of his car after killing their tennis coach he would have laughed in your face, but here he was, cock dragging in and out of patrick’s ass. the car shook with the force of art’s thrust. “you fuck me so good.” patrick slurred, hand coming down to jerk himself off in time with art’s thrust. groans and moans fill the small car. “i’m so fucking close pat.” art mumbled, patrick hummed saying he was too. art slotted their mouths back together and when his dick punched perfectly into that spot inside patrick his mouth fell open a loud moan came out and he came all over his and arts stomach tightening around the cock inside him. “holy -fuck- art!”

art pulled out taking the condom off and cumming all over patrick’s soft cock. the two of them sat there for a while catching their breath, taking in each other’s fucked out state. they drove back to art’s to clean up (they may or may not have showered together) before crashing out. the next day all over the news was how local tennis coach was stabbed to death in his home.

(happy october 1st! 🎃)

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine arguing with Sanji in the kitchen and holding up service…

The kitchen at Baratie was heating up and it wasn’t from the flaming stovetops or pre-heated ovens.

There was a wicked, hot tension between yourself and Sanji and it was making the rest of the kitchen staff sweat. No one knew what had caused the new dynamic but they quickly learnt to stay a safe distance from the pair after Patty accidentally fanned the flame. Now they only interacted with the duo when required.

Sanji was chopping vegetables for his soup that was almost ready to simmer while you silently iced some cakes on the station beside him. Both regretting the request to cook next to one another.

The blonde-haired chef finished dicing the last of the carrots and picked up the board to hold over the pot. He gently swept the vegetables into the broth with the knife. Setting the utensils back down, Sanji inhaled the beautiful aroma that was starting to perfume the air. His hand reached out for his spoon but his fingers met empty air.

He sighed and closed his eyes. “I’d like my spoon back.”

Your eyes were fixed on the patterns being made on the soft pieces of sponge but your ears picked up that his tone was directed toward you.

“I don’t have it.” You offered simply without breaking focus.

Sanji turned to you, eyes squinting. “Really? Because I recall that you used it last to mix the cake batter.”

It was your turn to exhale. “I did and I washed it thoroughly before setting it back on the table.”

“Well, it’s not here.”

“Then pull out another one.” You snapped.

Sanji lowered the heat of his soup so it wouldn’t burn before returning to glare at you. “Why should I have to when you’re the one who-”

Splat! The cook’s eyes went wide as the cold vanilla cream dripped from his chin, lips tasting its sweetness.

You now stood upright holding the bag of frosting, brows knitted to match the frown on your face.

“I didn’t take your damn spoon.”

The doors to the kitchen opened with their familiar heaviness and a wooden footstep hit the tiles.

“Why is there no soup or cakes out on the floor?” Zeff asked as he entered.

The kitchen that had gone quiet during the public argument suddenly sprang to life and scrambled to resume duties. Zeff’s eyes floated to the two in charge of the slowed menu line and his eyes narrowed.

“Why on earth are you tasting the desserts, Little Eggplant?” He inquired, approaching the bench.

Sanji’s hands flew to gesture your entire being. “Y/n is literally holding the bag. I’m a victim here!”

Zeff held a hand up to silence the boy and set his gaze on you. “You know that we don’t waste food here. Explain yourself.”

You shrugged. “He accused me of losing his spoon so I did what had to be done. I’m not apologising.”

Zeff blinked, jaw dropping slightly.

“A spoon.” He repeated slowly before his voice, and temper, was unleashed. “You two held up service because of a damn spoon!”

You held up your hands in defence. “I told him to just use another one but he was stubborn about it.”

Sanji didn’t take kindly to being thrown under the bus, rounding on you while completely ignoring the steam blowing out of Zeff’s ears.

“Excuse me but that is my special soup spoon. You’re lucky that I even let you borrow it.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s a spoon, Sanji. It’s not the All Blue.”

“You know what-?”

“I’ve heard enough!” Zeff bellowed, his voice sending vibrations through the glassware. “Mix the soup with a rolling pin for all I care. Just get it out to the customers along with those cakes or you’re both on dish duty for two months. Am I clear?”

Receiving a grumbled reply, the owner of the Baratie marched off.

A few stations away, Patty stealthily pulled a towel to cover the wooden handle of the missing utensil. It was too late to reveal the small prank without being boiled alive or baked into a pie.

With the tension still rising, Patty decided to lock them in a cupboard after the shift.

~ More imagines here ~

A/n: Heading back to the office tomorrow with a 5am wake up but here I lay at 12am dishing out some Baratie mania (with more to come). No regrets.

[hunnylagoon]

Birthday Girl

A/N This is my first tumblr fic. I’m a retired Wattpad warrior, I only wrote this bc the Ellie tag is over diluted by smut, we need some angst and fluff to balance it out. My credentials are that I used to write Game of Thrones fanfic and I was blocked by Noah Beck on Twitter. Apologies in advance for any spelling errors or confusing sentences, bc I was high off my ass when I wrote this.

Summary

Jackson’s resident Baker works herself tirelessly to take care of everyone on their birthday and ensure they get something nice to brighten their special day but who is there to take care of her?

Birthdays are like brilliant gems in the kaleidoscope of time; they are the times when life's symphony crescendos into a celebration of its children. As the sun circles the earth once a year, we are given a day to celebrate our own journey, a day that whispers stories of victories, laughter, and the sweet notes of resiliency. You had always loved birthdays, who didn't? The look of joy on someone's face when they open a  gift you spent weeks looking for, the uncontrollable smile and pure serotonin that took over even the grumpiest of people. Everyone had a special day designated to them, of course, it was a cause to celebrate. 

You worked in the town bakery with very few other people, from five am to twelve pm on Monday to Friday every single week you were hustling around in a humid bakery, hell, you ran it like the navy.  Every morning, walking into the bakery is like stepping into a fragrant paradise where time seems to slow down to the sound of ovens buzzing to life. The first two hours were just for you before you let anyone in, The comforting routine of donning a flour-dusted apron and tying back unruly hair precedes the artistry of crafting pastries and breads. The almost therapeutic rhythm of kneading, rolling, and shaping becomes second nature: the soft crack of eggs, the calculated pour of sugar, and the clouds of flour hovering in midair. 

There wasn't much creative freedom while working in the Jackson bakery, it really just consisted of making dozens of bread loaves daily and then carting them over to the 'Barbecue Place' Which was once a restaurant though it had been refashioned into Jackson's mess hall.  However, you were able to dabble in some fun and were able to make cupcakes daily and a large batch of miscellaneous pastries every Friday. The cupcakes were very dear to you, you had to beg Maria when you were thirteen to approve the idea and eventually, you were green-lit.

As you step into the bakery you are greeted by the creek of wooden planks which are a testament to decades of busy activity; the dance of innumerable bakers has worn away at their shiny surfaces. The aroma of baked goods still hovers in the air from the previous day and all the days that came before, taking you to a more peaceful time. Sunlight streams through old lace curtains, illuminating worn, mismatched tables and chairs that have served eager clients for centuries though they no longer serve guests in the bakery. Deeply patinated wooden shelves support a variety of ceramic jars, each containing a treasure trove of hidden ingredients. Fading photos and yellowed newspaper clippings decorate the walls, telling the story of the bakery's illustrious past. There are copper pots and pans strung like time capsules on strong hooks, and an old-fashioned cash register sits on the end of the counter past the empty glass displays, it no longer serves a purpose but you have fought bravely to keep it around as it makes you think of what life had been like before the world fell apart. 

You look at a beat-up calendar on the walls, sitting in the place of an old picture frame that had been knocked down and shattered by none other than yourself when you were fourteen and had the bright idea of having you and your friend toss a bag of flour at each other to see who was strong enough to last longer in the odd game of catch. Surely, Ellie threw the five-pound bag a little too hard, you ducked to save yourself but it smashed into the framed photo of the family who ran the bakery before the apocalypse. It not only was smashed into little fragments but the bag of flour exploded and covered the dining room of the bakery as well as yourself in white powder, it looked like it had snowed inside. The calendar you were checking held the birthday of every person in Jackson, it was messy and hard to read as you usually had to cram several birthdays into a single day which was only a small square, it was hardly legible, there was almost no one else who could read it. Every day when you walked into the bakery, the first thing you did was check the calendar to find out whose birthday it was, then you began your bread dough or carried on with the sourdough started the day before, while the dough rose, you made cake batter, adjusting the recipe according to how many you had to make. After finishing work for the day or sometimes when you were midway through it, you would give each person a cupcake to celebrate their special day.

Even if no one else remembered their birthday, you were always there to make it a little bit better.

Today there were two birthdays on the calendar, Sean Casey, a man who was turning sixty. The second birthday marked down in the little square was yours. 

That's what made that day so special, you were ecstatic to see what your friends had planned for you later. Last year Ellie promised that she would go above and beyond for your next birthday and you were going to hold her to that. There was already a nice start to your morning by having your dad wake you up with breakfast in bed which you found truly impressive as he usually slept in till at least ten, on top of that he had scavenged a stand mixer for the home. You grabbed your apron off of the hook putting it over your neck and tying it tight around your waist. Everyone had a couple of designated aprons to rotate through throughout the week, yours consisted of two plain white ones, a red gingham pattern, one of forest green, and another made of a fabric covered in hyacinth flowers, their colours diluted like paint. Today you wore the apron your father gave you last year on your birthday, it was your favourite colour and the neckline was embroidered to say '(y/n)s kitchen'. You could tell your dad did the embroidery himself, the stitches were loose and uneven in some areas while being extremely tight in others, that's why you loved it so much, it was the thought and care behind it.

With a gentle hand, you pulled each of your necessary ingredients along with equipment out to begin your day. You preheat the ovens and in the quiet pre-dawn hours, the bakery comes alive with the hushed sounds of industrial mixers. The heady scent of freshly milled flour dances in the air as you measure the precise alchemy of ingredients, your hands moving with practiced grace. Kneading the dough becomes repetitive, muscles working in harmony to transform a mound of humble ingredients into a soft elastic texture. As the dough rests and rises, the anticipation builds—the promise of crusty loaves and soft, pillowy interiors. You slipped the pans of dough into the industrial ovens, the heat attacking you the second you opened the door; making sure to place the pumpernickel, rye, sourdough, brioche and wheat loaves all sorted on different racks in the respective ovens.

By the time you put the loaves in ovens it had been two hours from when you began, even with preparation the day before and dough starters, it was a process. You quickly washed your hands before unlocking the door for Juno as well as anyone who wanted to come in to visit. 

The clock read '7:09', because of the passthrough you were still able to look outside via the glass storefront, you could see people walking along the streets heading to whatever job they worked to contribute to the community, no one got paid, it was a commune after all, you couldn't imagine a world where everyone was so dependent on money and so obsessed with over-consumption. Part of you was waiting for one of those people to come in and wish you a happy birthday, but you shook the thoughts from your head.

You began to make the small portion for two of cupcake batter, remembering distinctly how four years ago you sat next to Sean at the Fourth of July party and he went on and on about how much he hated vanilla, it seemed like one of those crazy old man rants but you found delight in it. Never had you seen a man so passionate about cake flavouring. He said vanilla was nothing special, flavourless; you had come to learn that he was a chocolate man, every holiday event filling his pot belly with chocolate, when you had brought assorted sweets for a Christmas party he dove straight for the brownies. So it was easy for you to make up your mind on what flavour of cupcake to make.

After years of this cupcake tradition you had memorized each ratio to make, a double serving of chocolate batter consisting of 1/4 cup of flour, 2 1/2 tablespoons of white sugar, 1 tablespoon of unsweetened cocoa powder, 1/4 tablespoon of baking soda, a dash of salt, 2 tablespoons milk, two tablespoons canola oil, 1/4 tablespoon vanilla extract. You treated baking like it was a science and recipes were your formulas.

As for the frosting, you had a stockpile of plain buttercream that you took small servings from and flavoured according to said person's preference. All you had to do was whip it up and add some cocoa powder to make it fluffy and creamy again.

The bell above the doorway rang, signalling the arrival of someone, you looked up to see Maria. "Hey, there," You smiled, turning off the stand mixer so you could hear her.

"Hi, (y/n)," She greeted and you quickly wiped whatever was on your hands onto your apron before coming around to the service counter to speak with her. "I have something to ask of you."

"Yes?"

"I know you already do your little cupcake thing but we are throwing a surprise party tonight for Sean and I was hoping you could make a cake for him?"

You nod with a smile "Anything for the town chief."

"Great, then how about a simple vanilla cake?"

"Sean doesn't like vanilla," You answered quickly.

"Okay, well I trust you with it, his party starts at eight tonight in the town square and he's turning sixty so it's a big one, I'll see you there around then?" 

"Definitely," You grinned at Maria, waiting for her to wish you a happy birthday and reveal that she was only pretending to forget but she didn't. She thanked you and walked out, leaving you in a flour-covered apron with a tinge of hurt in your heart. It wasn't like you weren't close with Maria, you had Thanksgiving at her house every year.

Nonetheless, it was only a blip in your soon-to-be perfect day. Just as you had frosted the two cupcakes, putting chocolate chips on Sean's and breaking half of a double fudge cookie and sticking it into the thick icing. Rainbow sprinkles cascade like confetti, adding a whimsical touch to the miniature confection. The bell rang again calling for your attention, this time you didn't leave the kitchen instead just moved to look at whoever it was by the passthrough.

"Hey, kiddo!" Tommy greeted, clad in a red flannel tucked into blue jeans. He walked into the bakery as comfortably as he would his home.

"Howdy, Tommy," You said, moving out of his sight for a quick moment to put the two cupcakes in the fridge to prevent the buttercream from prematurely melting. 

"So, it's Sean's birthday today and I was wondering if you could bake a cake for his party-

"Maria was already in," You answered "Don't worry, I'm on it."

He smiled "Of course, you're always so on top of it," He leaned over the counter slightly, trying to get a look inside the kitchen via the passthrough "Say, have you got anything back there for me?" You opened the box of double fudge cookies you made the day before and scooted around the passthrough to hand him one, boots clattering on the ground. Tommy loved to visit the bakery as you always had a sweet treat for him and he would never get sick of the aromatic embrace of fresh bread. "Thanks, kiddo, I'll see you around." 

This was the moment you were almost convinced that they were planning a surprise party for you, sure Maria could forget about your birthday, she was a busy lady but there was no way Tommy would. He was good buddies with your dad and was over at your place for beers a minimum of once a week. You always baked for him when he came over and he constantly joked about you trying to fatten him up. 

The bell sounded again though you didn't bother to look up, you knew who it was by the time of the clock, Juno was starting her shift. As usual, she tied her mousy brown hair into a sleek ponytail then grabbed her apron and stuck a baseball cap on over her head so there was no chance of her hair coming loose. "Good morning," She walked into the kitchen, heading over to the sink to wash her hands.

"Mornin'," You answer.

She looks you up and down with a slight smile "You're wearing your favourite apron, must be a special day."

“Sure doesn't feel like it."

♡

Your birthday wasn’t panning out great but you didn't want to lose hope.

You had walked over to the greenhouses after your shift to find Sean, he loved the cupcake, he even hugged you which was nice albeit a little odd. You walked through town a bit after you had stopped and talked to everyone on the street for not a single one to say the words you've been pleading to hear all day. Taking it as defeat, you grabbed a sandwich for lunch from the mess hall and began the desolate walk home.

Nestled at the end of a peaceful, tree-lined street, the charming but battered house had a certain charm that cut through its worn yellow exterior. Tentacles of ivy wrapped about the crumbling outside walls, their green tones infusing the dilapidated building with a hint of the natural world's tenacity. The worn-out yet friendly doormat and weathered rocking chair on the porch told of years spent taking in the changing of the seasons. The wooden frames of the windows, adorned with faded drapes that seen innumerable sunsets, spoke tales of laughter and time passed.

The house's coziness unfolded inside like a time capsule, with worn-out rugs covering creaky floorboards and a fireplace in the living room that was adorned with vintage tiles that were mismatched and provided warmth in more ways than one. The rooms had a lived-in comfort despite the peeling wallpaper and chipped paint, and each mismatched piece of furniture seemed to tell a story of its own. Despite being tatty and ragged around the edges, the house exuded a calmness that invited guests to enjoy the beauty concealed in the flaws of a place that had aged gracefully and with character like most homes in Jackson. The living room was always your favourite, there was a spruce bookshelf pushed behind the gray, L-shaped couch, and the rug was once a maroon colour though it's clear that it's been well-loved over the years. Pillows and throw blankets were carelessly scattered over the couch from when you and your dad had watched '21 Jumpstreet' the night before, he kept saying it was a shame the outbreak happened before they got to make a second one, though many of the jokes didn't land with you, you loved to see your dad laugh so hard he snorted. The room was illuminated by a warm glow from the fairy lights overhead that your dad scavenged years prior, a small stack of books piled up on the coffee table which had been hand-crafted by Joel.

You popped 'Mean Girls' into the DVD player, just to have some background noise and went to the kitchen and started on Sean's cake. As much as you loved the bakery, you wanted to be somewhere a little more close to comfort. 

As you measured each ingredient with care, you couldn't shake the bittersweet feeling that lingered in the air. Sifting the ingredients into the bowl, you had wished your father was home from patrol duty, all you really wanted was a hug but instead, you slaved away at a black forest complete with layers of moist sponge, decadent frosting, and a profusion of vibrant decorations.

As you delicately frosted the cake, your mind flitted between thoughts of the celebration and the poignant fact that everyone seemed to have overlooked your own special day. The kitchen, usually a sanctuary for you to escape to, now harboured the weight of unspoken emotions. Your heart, though excited for Sean to get a nice surprise on his Birthday, held an unnoticed longing for acknowledgment.

The aroma of the baking cake filled the kitchen, mingling with the scent of disappointment that you couldn't quite shake.

As the cake took shape, you couldn't help but think back to the calendar at the bakery, where the date circled in red seemed to mock you. Your own birthday, usually a day filled with surprises and the warmth of laughter, had slipped through the cracks of everyone's awareness. Though the night was still young and Ellie had said that she was planning something incredible.

Finally, nine was about to roll around, you changed into some clean clothes that hadn't yet carried the memories of your disappointing day, just a white top and some jeans. The sun had set, and your dad wouldn't be home for a good while so you walked over to the town square alone. 

There was a table full of food and a long banner that read 'Happy Birthday Sean!' strung between two street lamps. There were twinkling fairy lights illuminating what would have otherwise been a dark night. 

"There she is!" Tommy smiled, doing that awkward little dad jog over you. "Wow, that cake looks incredible, mind if I take it off your hands?"

"Go ahead," You held out the cakeboard. Tommy gingerly took it away from your grasp, his forearm underneath to support and his other hand held the side of the board for balance.

"I owe ya' kiddo," He winked before taking the cake away to show a group of adults.

You stood around awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do with yourself.  You turned your attention to the moon, wanting to believe that it shined so very bright just for you, because the moon, unlike everyone else recalled how important this day was to you-

"SURPRISE!" Everyone erupted in cheers as Sean walked up to his party, his daughter had her arm linked with his. He had the biggest smile on his face it almost made you forgive everyone for forgetting because at least Sean got something thoughtful.

"Lord, I was thinking everyone forgot my birthday!" Sean laughed, pulling Tommy in for a hug.

"(y/n)!" Dina yelled, you turned your head to follow her voice. She was sitting at a long picnic table beneath an awning with some friends "Over here," She motioned for you to sit down and you obliged, taking a spot between Ellie and Laila. "What have you been up to? I feel like I haven't seen you all day."

"That's because you haven't," You said with an awkward smile. "I've just been baking, like always."

"You're always working so hard, I swear you live in that bakery and when you aren't in there your busy busting your ass around town to make sure everyone gets something on their birthday," Dina sat across from you and put a hand onto yours "You look out for everyone, but who's looking out for you?"

"My dad?" You glance at Ellie who isn't tuned into the conversation in the slightest, she has her arms crossed in front of her on the table and her head resting on them. 

"Aw, that's sweet-" Kayla moves to look at you but in doing so, she spills a glass of juice onto you. "I'm so sorry," She slaps one hand over her mouth, her eyebrows furrowing. Kayla stood up from the table, her ginger curls rustling with the breeze "I'll get a cloth or something-

"Don't worry about it," I wave her off "It's just clothes, I'll grab some napkins." You push yourself away from the table, walking over to the table adorned with food, you see a small stack of Christmas themed napkins (it must've been hard for them to come by regular ones) and grab a handful, bunching them up in your hand in an attempt to soak up some of the juice that had already indefinitely stained your clothes. 

You feel some eyes on you from the other side of the table, to look up and see Joel, he doesn't say anything though his lips are pressed together tight.

"You're back," You say, a spark of happiness rekindling inside of you "So my dad's back from patrol too?"

Joel nods "Too tuckered to come out, said he was just heading home," He uses tongs to put a couple cuts of chicken onto his plate "Oh and happy birthday, you've probably heard that a whole bunch already, lord, it's all your old man would talk about on our last couple of patrols."

"What did you say?" You look at him with furrowed eyebrows, unsure if he said what you really thought.

"I said happy birthday, shame you've stained your clothes on your birthday," He absentmindedly added some mashed potatoes onto his plate. The words hung in the air, a moment that transcended the boundaries of their usual exchanges. You, momentarily taken aback, met Joel's gaze. It was a simple, earnest wish, uttered with the spontaneity of someone who had remembered a small yet significant detail in the whirlwind of festivity.

"Thank you, Joel," You replied, your voice carrying a mix of surprise and gratitude. In that fleeting instant, the isolation that had surrounded her seemed to dissipate. A connection, however tenuous, had been forged in the acknowledgment of her existence amidst the collective celebration.

"No problem, kid, I'll see you around," He left with his plate leaving you to stand alone at the table. You continued to dab at the juice on your white top, and though you knew it wouldn't come out you proceeded to rub it; the best exchange of your day, no more than eight sentences suddenly turned from joy to frustration. The only two people who remembered your birthday were your dad and a fiftey-eight-year-old man who practically raised the girl you had spent years crushing on, not the girl herself, but her father figure. However, you thought, maybe if Joel remembered, Ellie had aswell and she actually did have something planned.

Amidst the lively chatter and laughter that reverberated through the night, you stood in the midst of flickering candles and colourful decorations, your eyes cast down to the ground. The atmosphere of celebration enveloped her, but a palpable sense of solitude hung in the air like a heavy mist settling upon your shoulders. It was a birthday party, yes, but not your own. Forgotten and overlooked, your heart echoed with a quiet ache, the irony of your situation casting a shadow over the festive scene.

The square was adorned with streamers and balloons, a tapestry of colours that seemed to dance in rhythm with the joyful voices around her. The community gathered, their faces lit by the warm glow of the fairy lights and street lamps, each one caught up in the merriment of the moment. Yet, for you, the celebration felt like a distant spectacle, a scene from which you were detached.

It was your birthday too—a fact that no one cared enough to recall. As Darla (Sean's daughter)  calls guests toward a decadent cake adorned with candles, which you had made, you couldn't escape the bitter irony of the situation. You watched as the room erupted into a chorus of "Happy Birthday," the song meant for another soul, another moment of joy. You joined in, lips forming the familiar words, your voice harmonizing with the collective melody. But within the depths of your being, the celebration rang hollow, a stark contrast to the cheer that echoed around you.

Throughout the evening, you navigated the party with a forced smile, concealing the invisible weight of your emotions. Conversations buzzed like bees in your ears, no- it grated like a fork in a blender, but you found yourself on the outskirts—a silent observer amidst the numerous connections. The laughter that erupted like fireworks, the clinking of glasses, the embraces of old friends—it all seemed distant, an echo from another realm where she once belonged.

The party unfolded as a series of snapshots: a group photo with smiling faces, a toast to Sean, and the opening of gifts that weren't meant for you. Each moment, though vibrant and filled with the warmth of shared camaraderie, magnified the silence that enveloped your own celebration, forgotten and left to dissolve into the shadows.

As the night carried out, seeming like the celebration would never cease, you cut yourself a slice of cake, grabbing one of the half-melted candles that Sean had already blown out, they sat in a frosting-covered pile next to the cake. You took your favourite colour out of the rainbow assortment of candles and stuck it into the piece of black forest cake.

With your cake you sat back down by Ellie at the picnic table where she still returned to after conversing, everyone else had gotten up to dance. You reached for the lighter in your pocket and struck it to ignite, sparks flickered around the end of it, you struck it again and a flame arose, you carefully brought it to the wick of the partially melted candle.

The flickering flame cast a subtle glow as you made a silent wish for understanding, for the beauty found in selflessness, and for the recognition that sometimes the most meaningful celebrations are the ones we craft for others, even in the quiet echoes of our own unacknowledged birthdays. Ellie turned to look at you as the candle's flame danced in the darkness, before you could blow out the candle to solidify your wish a little girl climbed up onto the bench and blew it out, you looked at her and all she did was smile up at you, the gap in her teeth prominent, her deep chocolate hair braided so intricately you had to believe that it must've taken her mother hours.

As much as you wanted to deck that little girl in the face for ruining your moment, you didn't because it would be wildly inappropriate. "Do you want this?" You sighed, holding out the plate to the girl, she smiled and nodded enthusiastically, taking the cake and scattering away "Hey, Ellie," You pushed back tears in your eyes, forcing a smile on your face "Got any plans later?"

“Yeah," She said, short

"Oh, what are they?"

"Not to sound like a cunt but I'm not really in the mood to talk, I had a shit patrol and all I want to do is go home, smoke a joint, watch a movie, maybe read a comic, and pass out on my couch, the only reason I'm here is that Dina dragged me out and Joel said I need to be more involved in the community."

Your smile dropped, you couldn't hold it in anymore, realizing that this wasn't the elaborate setup of a surprise party but Ellie genuinely forgot it was your birthday. "Are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember what's happening today?"

"It's Sean's birthday," She gestured to the party around her.

"You're fucking serious," Any amusement that had been in your tone was gone, replaced by a subtle anger boiling up inside of you

"Are you going to cry?" Ellie gave you a weird look "What are you so mad about?"

"I can't believe you," You laugh bitterly "Actually I can, this is so like you, I need to stop building it up in my head that you're going to surprise me with something great. But hey, at least you never fail to let me down."

"Jesus," She scoffed "There's always something going on with you, can you go one day without finding some irrational reason to be upset?"

"Irrational?"

"Yeah, irrational," She reiterated "You always come to me when something sets you off in the slightest then your problem becomes everyone else's. You're so fucking draining and I'm sick of it."

"Fuck you, I hope your comic catches fire from your joint and you burn your place down." You stand up from the bench, wiping tears away from your eyes. Your boots clattered against the cobblestone. You stormed past the dancers, some stopping to look at one another with concern. Dina leaves Jesse to ask Ellie what happened.

The walk home might've been the loneliest you had felt in your life, the harsh wind of the night bit at your nose. The feeling of the sticky juice soaking through your clothing was borderline unbearable, were just about ready to scream. There wasn't a single person out and about as everyone was either at the party or cozied up in their own homes.

Arriving at your doorstep, you fumbled with the handle, the metallic clink resonating in the quietude that enveloped the house. The door swung open, revealing the dimly lit foyer, still no surprise. Why do you still think there is going to be a party? No one is coming.

You wandered into the living room, the TV was lit with the options screen for 'Mean Girls' that you had put on hours earlier.

Sinking into the worn-out couch, You let the weight of the day wash over you. A single tear welled in your eye, and as it escaped, a floodgate of unshed sorrow burst open. The first teardrop traced a silent path down your cheek, leaving a glistening trail of heartache in its wake.

The tears you cried weren't silent and dainty but violent sobs that burned your throat each time you cried out. As you wept, it felt like someone had stabbed your gut with a thousand needles, you cried and cried, to no one in particular, maybe the moon glistening outside the window though the moon seemed to absorb your tears, offering no solace in return.

The soft tick of the clock on the wall echoed in the quiet room, marking the strike of midnight, your birthday had ended. There was no secret party or a prank where everyone was only playing an act, only the emptiness of the house echoed the howls soaked in your tears.

The oak staircase creaked, and your dad turned the corner, peering into the living room. "What's wrong, honey,?" He shook the sleep from his mind, focusing on what was important, he sat next to you on the sofa. "I thought you said you were going to be out all night with your friends?"

You shook your head, breathing shaky breaths alone, hardly able to get a word out "They forgot," You felt the harsh sting of desolation hit you all over again "Everyone forgot," You grabbed his grey t-shirt burying your face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, cradling you gently like you were a child who had just scraped her knee not someone who had just turned nineteen, "Except for Joel, so be nice to him, please."

"I'm sorry, baby, it was probably just a mix-up," He rubbed one hand on your back to comfort you. "I should've been there with you, I'm so sorry."

You couldn't get the words out of your mouth, all you could manage was to shake in your father's arms with sobs until you cried yourself to sleep.

♡

"Happy birthday, Jasmine!" You smile brightly, presenting a lemon-raspberry cupcake to the woman. She was serving breakfast in the mess hall, the early morning light streaming through the many windows, blinding those trying to enjoy their meals.

"Aw, thank you, love" She took the cupcake "That's real sweet," She wore a hairnet, despite having short cropped hair. "I just realized I don't even know when your birthday is."

"It was yesterday, actually."

"Aww, how was it?" Jasmine smiled, her white teeth contrasting with her dark skin.

"It was nice, it was quiet too, I just spent it by myself."

A frown replaced Jasmine's smile and she lowered her tone "Did your friends drop the ball?"

You wave off her question "Oh no, loads of people remembered, I just wanted some time to myself, it was nice."

You could tell Jasmine didn't wholeheartedly believe you, she was at Sean's party last night and saw you rush out with tears building in your eyes "If you say so," She shrugged, taking a bite of her cupcake "This is really good."

"Thanks," A small smile plays on your lips.

"God bless you, sweetheart, you deserve the best." She said, every bit of truth behind her words. She took another bite of the cupcake, savouring the sweet and sour taste "And I mean that."

You were too caught up in conversation to notice Jesse ahead of you in the service line right away, he grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the dispenser, trying to play cool and not have your attention drawn to him. With a shaky hand, he put the glass on his tray and hurried over to the table where Ellie was eating with Dina. "Guys, something not that great just happened."

Ellie furrowed her eyebrows looking from Dina to Jesse "What?" She asked through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, she swallowed them down and spoke back up "Please tell us what terrible thing has happened in the time it took you to walk to the service line, get your food and come back?" Sarcasm dripped from her voice.

"We forgot (y/n)'s birthday," He said quickly, Ellie and Dina looked at each other with wide eyes, thinking back to the night before and the way they had both behaved. Dina was extremely ignorant and Ellie got into an argument with you, though Jesse didn't speak to you at all.

"We're awful friends," Dina says quietly, scraping her mind for any way they could salvage the situation and play it off like they hadn't forgotten. "We could change all of the calendars in town and make it seem like her birthday is actually today."

"Be serious, Dina," Jesse said, though he was considering her idea. "I think the only way we can fix this is by making it up to her."

"How would we do that? We can't make it up to her, she remembers every single person's birthday in this town and gives them a cupcake, even people she doesn't like, do you remember how she planned all of our birthday parties for the last four years and has never let us down?" Dina and Jesse nodded "And how we always scramble something together last minute? Like last year, we only remembered two days before and we threw her a subpar movie night, we watched Star Wars and she doesn't even like Star Wars."

Dina sucked air through her teeth "Yeah, not our best moment."

"You think?" Jesse asked, sarcastically. "And Ellie didn't make it any better by yelling at her yesterday!"

"You yelled at her? You told me you didn't yell at her,"  Dina whipped her head to look at Ellie, the smallest glimpse of judgment in her eyes. "Shh, she's coming!"

You were making your way to the exit lugging the cart that had held loaves of bread on it before you dropped them off to the kitchen, still in your flour-covered apron, hair pinned up messy, baby hairs flying away. Clad in jeans, a green T-shirt and beaten-up boots, clacking against the hardwood floor, you still looked beautiful to Ellie with red eyes and a puffy face from crying all night. "Watch this," Jesse murmured to the group before turning around and flagging you down. "Hey (y/n)!" He smiled brightly, his words catching your attention "Did you enjoy your birthday, yesterday?"

"Jesse, I know you heard me talking to Jasmine." You said and Ellie couldn't bear the disappointed look on your face. At that moment, the guilt hit her all at once. You had been the first kid her age that she warmed up to when she arrived in Jackson, trying your best to include her in everything. You invited her to hang out with your friends even though she didn't particularly get along with them, she went anyway because she just wanted to see you. On her birthday the previous year, you had scoped out an old comic store hours away just to bring her there for one day.

Jesse's smile fell and you had walked out the door before he had the chance to push a lie through his teeth. Last night's conversation echoed through Ellie's head over and over again, she cringed at the memory, god, why did she even say that?

Dina reached over the table and gave Ellie a harsh smack on the arm "Why did you even say that?!" 

"Ow," She flinched, rubbing the spot that had been assaulted by Dina "What are you talking about?"

Dina looked at Ellie like she was just about ready to scream "What you said to her last night, what was going through your head?"

"Not much, apparently," Jesse answered for her, earning a death glare from the Auburn girl.

"I'll just apologize and it'll be water under the bridge," Ellie said, leaning back.

"That's not going to work," Dina replied quickly.

It, in fact, did not work. Ellie had shown up at the bakery where you promptly ignored her. "(y/n), I'm really sorry I forgot your birthday and said those things to you." Nothing Ellie said could get you to even look at her.

She had later stopped by your house, it was your dad who answered the door and Ellie sheepishly asked if you were home. He called for you to come down, the moment you saw Ellie, you shut the door in her face. There was no way she could defend herself, she couldn't say that she said those things because she had a bad day (even though she did), and that would just make her seem pathetic. She really wanted to say that she was scared of how much she liked you, she didn't want to ruin a good thing, you both had spent years playing the role of each other's best friend until Ellie started to distance herself from you and you ended up enwrapping yourself with work to distract yourself from the fact that she was drifting away.

Ellie didn't know what to do, if she didn't act fast, it would be too late and she was going to lose you.

♡

One week later

The sun was just beginning to set as you were already preparing to settle into bed and read a book, just about to change out of your floor-length sundress and into one of your dad's old shirts. However, your plans were interrupted when you heard your dad screaming downstairs, it was blood-curdling. You dropped everything, pulling your bedroom door open and rushing down the stairs, tripping on a step and stumbling before quickly regaining balance and moving with haste "Dad?" You called out, worry running through your head. 

"SURPRISE!" People practically screeched, the volume so loud that you jolted back in fear. The chatter only grew as you looked around you and realized what was happening, this was your belated birthday party. 

You were pulled in suddenly for a hug, squeezing you so tight you thought your eyes would pop out of your skull was Tommy "I'm so sorry, kiddo, I was being a real shithead on your birthday."

"It's okay," You choked out, nearly gasping for air. Much to your relief, he released you and you took a deep breath.

"Happy belated birthday!" Dina sang, placing a fat box in your arms. Many people followed after her, piling gifts on top of the initial one, you were quickly losing balance, so you stumbled into the living room and put the gifts onto the coffee table. There was so much life in the living room it was almost hard to believe that just a week before you had been crying alone, bathed in moonlight. 

There were streamers strung throughout your house and odd dangly decorations that hung from the ceiling. Some balloons were taped to the walls while others bounced around the ground.

The lively hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the melodic strains of birthday wishes filled the room as the party pulsated with energy. Colourful decorations adorned the walls, and the air was charged with the festive spirit.

 You had the biggest smile on your face while everyone joked and jeered. Shoving their gifts into your face, trying to get you to open them first. It had made you forget about how awful your real birthday was, though you did try to dodge awkward apologies of people fumbling over their own words to make up excuses as to why they missed your real birthday.

"Happy birthday to you-" A voice began singing, and soon enough the entire crowd joined in, harmonizing into an off-key rendition of the birthday song. They made way for the person carrying the cake which had been none other than Ellie herself. The song ended off and Ellie placed the cake in front of you on the coffee table. "Make a wish."

You blew out all of the candles, and no punchable little girl around to steal your thunder, the room erupted into applause. The celebration continued with the living room becoming a dance floor, laughter echoing through the corridors, and conversations flowing freely. The cake itself reminded you of the embroidery your dad had done on your apron, it was sloppy and imperfect but you could tell it was made with love, the icing had been put on prematurely and had partially melted off the cake. It read 'Happy birthday' with 'Sorry for being a dick' written smaller beneath the first bit of text.

"Thank you, Ellie," You smiled softly up at her.

No one else was paying attention to you anymore, aside from those who wanted a slice of cake. Ellie nervously fumbled around with her hands "Do you want to dance?"

Ellie invited you to dance as the opening notes of the song floated through the air and she held out her hand. With a gentle smile, you accepted and you moved into the middle of the living room to form a makeshift dance floor. The soft aroma of fresh flowers blended with the scent of vanilla candles created an ambiance that enhanced the moment's sensory magic.

To the gentle beat of the song, your bodies moved in unison. Your hand settled comfortably on Ellie's shoulder, and her hand wrapped around your waist. Your bond transcended the material in the living room dance, an unspoken language of mutual feelings and unknown depths.

You both danced, recklessly, so much so that you were nearly a hazard for the swaying couples drifting around you, moving faster and not hurriedly as the tempo picked up. With each step, the living room's walls became silent witnesses to a romance that was developing on the plush carpet under their feet. The muted rustle of your clothing and the melodic notes of the music were all that could be heard to your ears.

The two of you took great pleasure in the dance's exuberance, laughing at the imperfect nature of it. In the noise of the living room, your eyes, locked in a dance of their own, spoke volumes. You were embraced by the dim lighting's vulnerability, which freed you from the burdens of the outside world to fully enjoy the moment. 

Ellie guided you in a soft spin as the song went on, your moves were not fluid and elegant but Ellie could've sworn that looking into your eyes made it feel like there was liquid sunlight coursing through your veins

You and Ellie drew closer in the song's last moments, your bodies pressed together in an embrace that went beyond the material. As the last notes of the music faded, they held each other for an extra moment, relishing the warmth that they shared and the unspoken promises that danced between them. You wished that you could've stayed in Ellie's strong embrace for centuries.

You let go of Ellie, taking a step back with a smile, "Why didn't you tell me you were such a good dancer?" You tease, almost out of breath.

"I didn't know I was," She grinned, taking the sight of you in. Your cheeks were flushed and your hair had become messy, she thought you to be beautiful all the same, if not more. Her eyes raked over your body, your floor-length sundress and mismatched socks "And here I was thinking it was too late for sundresses."

"It's never too late, Ellie."

[strangerstilinski]

eddie the hero

summary; the holidays bring about daddy issues of the decidedly un-sexy variety, but eddie is a total sweetheart and a goofball to boot. (this is very self indulgent.) 2.6k warnings; some angst but a very very fluffy end, trauma from overly-critical parents, eddie being sweet, some blood, a brief anxiety attack maybe?, i think reader is written gn (eddie refers to reader as a fair maiden but like jokingly? so do with that what you will) a/n; turns out, a combination of being home for the holidays and listening to mean by miss swift on the drive out brought up, uh... this. shout out to my dad for being himself over this holiday season, and shoutout ruby for very delicately insisting (repeatedly) that i get my shit together and simply.. make something of this trauma dump. so here it is; a wee bit of angst with lots of fluff to round it all out.

The kitchen is in chaos.

You've got about a hundred different things going at once in an effort to get everything ready for the holiday dinner that you and Eddie agreed to host. The smell of cinnamon from your morning baking endeavors still lingers in the air, though it's slowly being overtaken by rosemary and and the earthy scent of fresh vegetables. The hair at the nape of your neck is beginning to feel a bit stifling with heat from the oven already warming house, and you make a mental note to crack a window once your friends and family begin trickling in.

It's a little overwhelming, but you're doing your best to get what you've deemed the more detailed-oriented aspects of preparation done while Eddie is busy in the shower.

You intend to be finished by the time he's done getting ready. A mental plan has been laid out. You'll have the knife in your hand washed and dried and put away before he even emerges from the bathroom— no problem.

There was a problem though: you hadn't been quick enough.

You're in a zone of sorts. So much so, that you don't notice the footfalls of your boyfriend making his way down the hallway toward the kitchen. When he speaks from the doorway, his voice takes you completely by surprise.

"What are you doing?" Eddie's voice is soft as ever, though you're unable to process the gentle innocence in the tone of his question.

The realization that you've been caught has the heat in the kitchen very suddenly feeling entirely too warm. Your collar is entirely too tight around your neck while your mind whirls with sudden anxiety.

It's as if Eddie is no longer there. Instead, your ears are filled with the echo of your father's voice, the condescension in his tone ringing sharply in your skull.

"What are you doing?"

"Why are you doing it like that?"

"It's not that hard, bud. Just do it like this and it'll be better. How many times do I have to tell you-"

His voice would toe the line between irritated and amused, narrowed eyes making you feel a fool. It would prompt a frustrated prickle behind your own eyes and a tightness in your jaw when he'd show you the way you should've been doing it in the first place.

You heart races now with that unhealed scab of your father's never ending dissatisfaction. His impossible standards. His mean little digs and criticisms that masqueraded as him merely wanting you to be better.

Because you could always be better.

Growing up it was sports, your effort in school, it was the way you putted in mini golf, it was 'why on earth would you not dry the glasses when you washed dishes? That's just stupid because now they'll air dry with spots and-' From there began the slow evolution into the way that you drove your car, the way you spent money, how often you called and what time of day you called when you did..

Nothing you did was enough. In his eyes, there here was always something wrong, something that could be improved.

It's entirely possible that the stress of the holiday is getting to you already, if the way you've very quickly begun to spiral is any indication. And though there's nothing more than curiosity in your boyfriend's question, the familiarity of it makes you flinch nonetheless.

It happens in a flash. The paring knife in your grip slips and the blade slices the edge of your thumb instead of the potato you'd been getting prepped for boiling. A sharp sting that you barely notice. The sight of the blood that pools quick from the shallow cut has your ears ringing, Eddie's soft curses sounding muffled when they curl at your ears. It's a bit like you're underwater, sounds eerily distorted and brain fuzzy with the heavy beat of your heart.

"Sorry—"

It comes out as nothing more than a murmur under your breath. With a slight delay, you have the foresight to move your hand from above the bowl of already sliced and cleaned potatoes. Wrist now clutched to your chest, you zero in on the drops of blood that have already stained a few of them, red bleeding into the starchy whiteness.

"S-sorry, I just-"

Your voice is shaking as Eddie grabs a kitchen towel, his hands gently cradling your own and dabbing the towel at the cut so he can examine the severity of your injury. His brows are furrowed beneath the wispy curtain of his wet bangs, brown eyes wide with worry. His fingers are free of their normal assortment of rings, likely because he'd come out with the intent of helping you cook. Your eyes flick between his bare fingers and his shower-damp hair, between the roundness of his chin and the frown pulling at his lips — guilt pools heavily in your gut at the sight.

"I shouldn't 've been using a knife anyway, but I couldn't find the peeler s-so I just used the knife. I-I know it wastes more of the potato, I know that's not-" Your breath comes out trembling, your whole body wracking with it as your eyes prickle and burn with embarrassment. Your words come quicker, panicked, "I just wanted to get them done so I could get them in the water and start on the beans, but now I-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Eddie soothes, wide palm coming up to your flushed face where his thumb drags slow over the apple of your cheek while his other hand works to secure the dish towel in your fist to stop the bleeding, "Breathe, sweetheart. You're okay."

"I'm sorry," You whisper, voice thick with tears, "Was s' stupid, I'm sorry-"

"Baby.. Baby, hey-" His voice is soft. He squares his shoulders and follows your movement as he tries to meet your eye, brown finally connecting with shining pools that threaten to spill over. The pad of his thumb catches the first drop the moment that it breaks free, smoothing the moisture along your skin as he repeats the slow back and forth motion over your cheek. "The cut's not bad, it's not very deep.. What's going on, sweet thing? What's got you so worked up?"

Your next breath catches and it has your whole body quaking when it eventually whooshes out of your chest, a pitiful little sniffle escaping you in response to the sudden influx of tears.

"I- I was doing it wrong. I know- And then I- I got blood all over the potatoes-"

"We can wash the potatoes." Eddie says all too easily, though his voice still has that anxious edge to it that does nothing to make you feel better.

"We can.. We can wash the potatoes.." You repeat cautiously, as if the thought hadn't yet occurred to you.

"Yeah, baby. We can wash the potatoes." He echoes gently.

A shaky breath falls past your lips as you nod, "Sorry." You say again.

"I'm sorry," He insists with a shake of his head, "I came in here like a bat outta hell while you were holding a knife, and I scared you into hurting yourself. I was just- Potatoes we're supposed to be one'a my jobs. And, uh-" A grimacing excuse of a smile pulls at his lips, his eyes drifting to the discarded knife that lay at the bottom of the sink, "Well.. You couldn't find the peeler because it's in the dishwasher-"

You have to fight back a sigh at his admission, "Eddie-" You admonish weakly.

"I know, I know. It's not dishwasher safe. I know that, I do," Eddie says in a rush, "You've told me a million times, I just forget in the moment. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry."

His earnest apology has you reeling a bit. The fact that Eddie's instinct is not just to apologize, but also to explain away his mistake with guilt dripping heavy from his words-

You suddenly feel a bit like a monster. A cruel, perfection-driven bully of your father's creation. It has a fresh wave of tears pooling in your eyes and threatening to well over.

"God," The word comes out a choked sounding thing, buried beneath the tightness in your throat, "I'm sorry, Eddie. It's not a big deal, really, 's just a peeler. If the dishwasher ruins it we'll just buy another one for, like, a dollar."

"Yeah?" Eddie treads, a cautious smile pulling at the corner of his mouth while his thumb continues to drag soft over the wetness spread across your cheekbone.

"Yeah," You sniffle around the word, panic and realization settling in and promoting your chest to heave with quick breaths, "Jesus. Y-You shouldn't be worried about my reaction to something so.. So stupid. Fuck. I- I'm just like him-"

"Woah, woah, woah. Baby, hey.. Just like who?" Eddie interrupts with a renewed sense of urgency, "What're you talkin' about?"

"My dad-" You sob, shoulders trembling with it.

"Oh, baby, hey. Hey-"

In a flash, Eddie is guiding your head into the crook of his neck, wetness transferring onto his skin as a dam breaks and your body trembles with a series of heavy sobs. You slot into the space below his jaw just as perfectly as you always do, the two of you fitting together like puzzle pieces.

He smells like shaving cream and the conditioner you'd bought him especially for curly hair. The combination of the rich masculine scent on his skin with the sweet citrusy perfume clinging to his damp hair makes your head spin as you try valiantly to follow his soft demands for you to calm down.

His voice rumbles soft over your ear as he shushes you, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your temple all the while. The towel wrapped around your fist tightens when Eddie's bigger hand encases your own, a slow sway overtaking your body as he urges your weight to shift from foot to foot in a soothing motion. He rocks you back and forth, your socked feet shuffling against the kitchen tile, your boyfriend's chest pressed tight to your own.

A wide palm smooths up and down your spine, a tune that sounds distantly familiar rumbling over your ear when Eddie begin to hum softly into your hair.

A minute passes, shuddering breaths come and less, the heaving of your chest and the tears in your eyes settling until each sniffle feels more embarrassing than anything else. A weak laugh bubbles up from your throat as you hone in on your boyfriend's socked feet nudging at yours with every shift side to side, your fist tightening around the blood-stained towel for a moment before you're hooking your own fingers around the back of his hand, palms clasped together.

"'re we slow dancing right now?" You ask a bit breathlessly, finally lifting your head from the curve of his neck to peer up at his with swollen, reddened eyes.

"Mhm," Eddie hums and drops his forehead against your own. That hand on your spine hikes you up against him, air forced from your lungs and another bubbling laugh pushed up your throat.

"You trying to woo me, Munson?" Your tease comes out a bit raspy from all of the crying, but you watch a grin pull at his lips regardless.

"Why?" Big brown eyes flick between your own, a little cross-eyed with how close your faces sit, "S'it working?"

You bring your free hand up to curl around the back of his neck, fingers slipping beneath his wet curls to ensure his forehead doesn't leave yours.

"It might be.." The words come out in a murmur.

You're feeling a bit mesmerized by his proximity, even after all this time. A sudden spin from your boyfriend has you stumbling over your feet, the only thing keeping you from losing your balance completely being the steadying hand that quickly finds a place on your hip and slides back to the base of your spine.

"It might be?" Eddie repeats with a scoff, "Oh, it might be, you say." A small huff of laughter escapes you and puffs out against his chin as he continues on, "Well I guess I'll just have to up the ante then, won't I? What shall I do, my fair maiden? What is it you desire? I could finish this lovely holiday dinner by myself, provide thee with sustenance-"

It's you who scoffs this time, "Right, hilarious. Our friends and Wayne will be here in less than two hours-"

"Or perhaps I'll wait until nightfall, pluck a star straight from the sky for you. Because what other courting gift could be better suited for a maiden who shines so bright-"

"Eddie," You can't help but laugh at his dramatics. The drying tear streaks on your cheeks are long forgotten now, the ridiculous man in front of you is nothing if not an expert in getting your whole attention focused on him.

"No. No, you're right. That couldn't possibly be enough to prove my endless love and devotion," He makes a show of shaking his head as he releases you from his hold and takes a step back. A sidestep has him bumping into the sink basin, a wide grin already pulling at his lips. "But this!" He announces as he snatches the bloody paring knife from the sink with a flourish, "This cursed object! Laced with evil, I'm sure! This blade that has brought harm upon you!"

You watch Eddie dispose of the knife with a smile pulling at your lips, and you only spare a small wince at the fleeting worry that it might tear through the plastic bag lining the inside of the garbage can. Eddie drops to his knees in a flash, dark denim coming into contact with the kitchen tile at your feet. His hands grip at the backs of your thighs as he looks up at you with wide eyes, the brown pools swimming with mischief and humor and love.

"-It is dealt with, my dear. It will never hurt you again. This I swear-"

The blood-stained towel falls to the floor as you take his head in your hands, carefully avoiding the drying cut on your thumb. You're swallowing down laughter as you guide him to his feet again. Your heart feels full enough to burst, and Eddie's expression of faux-seriousness is almost enough to push a giggle from your lips.

"Oh, my hero," You whisper with all of the dramatisation you can manage, "My big, handsome savior. Whatever would I have done without you here to protect me? How can I ever thank you?"

Eddie brings his palms up to your cheeks in a flash, and you know it must be a ridiculous sight. The current disaster zone that is the kitchen; ingredients lining every available inch of countertop space, a pot of salted water very nearly boiling on the stovetop, and the two of you standing at the center of it all — cradling one another's faces with all the care in the world.

Brown eyes flick slow over your face, the freckles on the bridge of Eddie's nose catching your attention all the while.

"One million kisses." He proposes.

A laugh does escape you now, though it's a giddy one, slightly flustered by just how sweet the man before you is. Your cheeks feel warm with it as your uninjured thumb drags soft over his cheek.

"One million?"

"One hundred million!" He counters immediately.

"One hundred million?" You repeat in disbelief, "Now, what's a guy like you going to do with one hundred million kisses should I give them to you?"

"Maybe you're right. Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Eddie nods valiantly, "We could start with just one, and work our way up."

"That sounds more than reasonable," Your cheeks are beginning to ache with your smile.

You push up onto your toes to brush your lips over his, scarcely touching. But when Eddie pushes forward, you rock back in an easy move, your mouth remaining just out of his reach.

"I am going to need that knife to finish dinner though," You whisper, the hushed words rushing over his lips in one breath, "The others are too dull-"

"Consider it retrieved and washed," Eddie says easily, "As soon as I get my kiss-"

It ends up being more smile than kiss, in the end, but there will be millions more to make up for it.

[alcoholfreenayeon]

You and Irene have been dating for a while now but only have gone as far as making out because you wanted your take things slow and of course, she was ok with that. But, one day during a heated making out sessions where things started escalating further and Irene tried to pull away, you told her you were ready to take the next step with her which led to your first time together(soft smut please)

Eyes locked, hands locked

CW: Irene x gn!reader, fluff, soft smut, suggestive, nsfw

You take a deep breath as your eyes open, the lights blinding you immediately. You look around in confusion for a moment before you realize where you are. Stretching, you sit up, feeling a bit refreshed from your nap. You yawn and pick up your phone, scrolling through it for a minute before you get up and head to the kitchen where you hear the clattering of the utensils and find Irene there, mixing the batter of a cake.

“Baby”, you greet her, hugging her from behind and slump your head on her shoulder.

She giggles, “you are awake already? I was hoping to surprise you with a cake.”

“This is why you are so amazing. But why a cake all of a sudden?”, you ask squeezing her a little.

She then pulls away a little from you and frowns, “You forgot?”, she keeps frowning and sighs.

Your entire life flashes before your eyes, “No I didn’t, it’s….its the day”, you struggle while Irene stares at you blankly, “our anniverrr”, you notice her slight shake of the head, “-sery is obviously not today so it’s..your birthday-I’m just kidding, it’s…”, you rack your brains trying to remember what on earth could the occasion be.

Then Irene breaks down in laughter, “I was just teasing, I’m making the cake for fun silly”.

You sigh in relief and then stare at her in disbelief which only causes her to giggle more. “You’ll pay for that”

She smiles, “how”, she asks as she puts the batter in the baking tray and in the oven.

“With kisses. So many. I hope you have enough or else”, you try to look menacing but she just chuckles and pinches your cheeks.

“I guess only one way to find out”, she says, poking your nose and running off to the bedroom invitingly.

You follow her, trying not to smile and find her sitting on her bed, smiling and beckoning you to join her and you oblige.

Moments later you both are making out lovingly, both of your hands wandering aimlessly at each other’s body. You pull away from her lips and begin to kiss her neck. Gently biting to leave a mark and Irene whimpered and moaned as you did before pushing you away all of a sudden.

You look at her confused and she’s completely red. “W-wait,…what are you doing”, she asks not making eye contact.

You smile and sigh, “what do you think”.

“But….”, she cuts herself off and purses her lips, considering your words…looks up at you for a second and then jumps at you kissing you deeply and you both continue from where you left off.

Within a minute she’s on top of you, unwillingly to let your lips part while she runs her hands over your bare chest. She then yelps as you push her back and get on top of her again, her hands and legs wrapped around you tightly as you begin to show her a whole new world.

About 20 minutes later, somehow between all the panting and moaning, the two of you are interrupted by the alarm Irene had set for the cake. You sigh, hesitant to move away from between her legs.

“Hey….the ca-…the cake”, Irene pants out, her face sweating and flushed as she reaches down to tap your head.

You kiss your teeth and she chuckles, standing up shyly and shakily, covering herself with the blanket as she goes to switch the oven off. When she comes back, she sits on the edge of the bed nervously, pursing her lips and looking at you through her peripherals, not letting go of the blanket.

You smirk at her shyness, “what’s with the blanket baby?”.

She sighs and rolls her eyes dramatically, shifting away from you.

You chuckle and sit up behind her, wrapping your arms around her, “Feeling shy now?”

“Shut up…”, she says not looking at you. “You just…without any hesitation…making me feel that way.”, a slight pout on her flushed face as she glances at you.

“You taste amazing if that’s what you were-hey!”, you laugh as she interrupts you by turning around and pushing you over, climbing on top of you.

“And teasing me so much when it’s my first time. And then you wonder why I’m shy. I bet you would be a mess too if I did that to you.”, she blurts out impulsively but her voice quietening down with bc every word.

You bite your lips and grin, “if that’s a challenge I accept-wh-”, you get silenced as Irene shushes you her finger.

“Yes. That is a challenge. And if I can’t..well I’ll keep going till I can do that to you. So..”, she begins to sink lower, heading towards your waist, “be good and don’t make much noise or else I’ll have to”, she bites her lip, “or you know what, make whatever noise you like. I want to know I’m making you feel that way”.

And then the really long night for you began, not that you were even going to think of complaining…

[deviantly-inspired]

Dreamling concept

I absolutely love the 600 year slow burn to friendship and then wildfire romance that's in dreamling fics (it's IMMENSELY satisfying) but also, please consider:

after they finally (finally) become friends after 600 years they just... take their time, with romance. They spend years getting to know each other, genuinely, as friends. They don't know eachother, not really, until Dream has held Hob while he sobs over a loved one dying AND when he's seen Hob in his PJs eating ice cream out the pint because his students have stressed him out to the point of needing either ice cream or violence and Hob likes to think he chooses violence less often these days. And Hob doesn't really know Dream until he's heard that awful laugh, some unholy mix between braying donkey and the sound of magma shifting beneath the earth's crust OR until he's watched Dream scowl at the tele because they got to the last episode of "Game of Thrones" and Dream isn't any happier then anyone else is about a lot of those decisions.

And they spend days and weeks and years of being in one another's pockets. Choosing to come together again and again for a pint or a season binge or a silent supporting friend when the weight of living is a little harder. They earn each other's trust, and because they're both a little dense and maybe a lot more walking-wounded, the moment that each of them realizes that the other trusts them is, well, it's something that makes life worth living, for both of them.

Hob realizes Dream trusts him first, something small, something like Hob going to guide Dream out of the way and Dream just goes without any sort of hesitation. Not mountains or meteors could move Dream if he didn't want to, but he just goes to where Hob guides him out of the way so Hob can take the carrots out of the oven. It's enough to humble a man, and Hob might have a little cry over it later, in private, but for now he grins and tells Dream he has to try the carrots with the lamb, he hasn't lived until he's done so.

And Dream is a little slower to realize, I think. Because Hob is pretty open and friendly, it's a bit harder for Dream who's not so good with interacting with people face-to-face, to tell that Hob doesn't really get close to very many people for all that plenty seem to like him. There's a few exceptions, but even they are kept at a distinct distance. And it's maybe something small, like a small party or gathering of some of Hob's friends and it's late and folks are tipsy and Hob just kinda... dozes off against Dream. And Dream doesn't think anything of it, Hob does this quite often but Hob's other friends are immediately very surprised: Hob doesn't sleep in front of others, they explain. A relic from the war/traumatic past/whatever Hob's used to tell them. No matter how late or how tired or even how drunk he is, Hob would rather drive/bus/walk home then sleep where others can see him. You must be pretty special, one of them says. He even fell asleep on you like that: I've never seen him look so relaxed.

And I think that there's something beautiful about the slow, inescapable draw of it. It's like two meteors from opposite ends of the galaxy that have been on a collision course for eons. They both have moments of realizing that they're falling in love. They know it's going to happen, and the tension is slow and sweet and lovely. And there's no need to rush, because there's trust there too. Sometimes they'll meet gazes and they'll know, both of them, in that moment that they're in love. That, someday, what's growing between them is going to be a bloom unlike anything the universe has ever seen before. And they'll smile together and continue watching bad tv dramas or swapping gossip or sharing their pints and maybe their shoulders brush and their touches linger a bit longer that night but it's okay. There's no need to rush. They have forever after all.

And I think also that Dream is just a dramatic romantic enough of a bastard to confess to Hob on June 7, 2089 and i think Hob is just enough of a dramatic romantic to tell Dream that he certainly took his time.

I'm not late, am I, Dream will ask.

Of course not, Hob will laugh, you're exactly on time. We've plenty of it.

And in the Dreaming there will be a quiet warm breeze and gentle sunshowers as in the deepest heart of the dreaming a flower never before seen blooms awake. And in the waking two friends close the gap between them and talk about how Sally next door really needs to stop over watering her flowers she's going to drown the poor things, really.

And then they'll have the absolute longest courtship and engagement of anyone in the universe. There will be entire religions that will rise and fall before they get married. Pantheons will come into existence and be utterly dumbfounded when they're invited to Dream of the Endless and Hob Gadling weddings because weren't they already married? They've been together since the beginning of it all.

It's be great.

[skelliko]

Tokyo revengers |°- random head cannons that I had stored

๑ Hanma ironically and out of nowhere 'sang' twist by Korn next to kisaki to get his reaction which caused kisaki to immediately whip his head over at the doofus with genuine fear in his eyes, he took a step backwards from Hanna, hands up and everything. but after a few seconds of staring at the 'possessed' specimen he just annoyingly does a "what the fuck is wrong with you..."

๑ ran doesn't crack his bones/knuckles often but if someone's around him that absolutely despises the sound of cracking bones he'd do it continuously without a care and finds major enjoyment in watching the person's face scrunch up in discomfort, sometimes he snickers too

๑ while chifuyu was in his 'major delinquent era, thinking he's better than everyone else' he was walking down the school stairs all cool and trying to be intimidating but then slipped on one of the stairs and fell on his butt. only one person saw but the amount of embarrassment he got from that when they made eye contact made him want to disappear from earth -this caused him to always be slow and actually look out for the steps so that it doesn't happen again.

๑ seishu finds it hilarious to fake a laugh at someone's awful joke for a second or two but then immediately go dead silent and just stare at the person with no seen emotion at all

๑ seishu is amazing at cooking, he's like a chef. but where'd he learn all this from? he doesn't answer, it's basically a mystery. but in his room he hides written down recipes that he copied out from books and other places

๑ when Baji was younger he decided to try and cook his own food for himself but accidently set a kitchen towel on fire by mistakingly setting it on top of the wrong oven circle -out of panic he got rid of it by quickly throwing it out the window in a panic making it land on someone's car windshield

๑ kazutora is actually quite close with Baji's mom. at some point he slipped up when calling out for her and accidentally called her 'mom' and sure enough he got embarrassed real quick and by a lot. ryoko took pride into that title tho, knowing that she mistakenly got called mom by someone else other than her own son made her feel oddly happy - although she mentioned that kazu is fine in calling her 'mom' he never did it again cause he still finds it embarrassing

๑ kazutora secretly takes photos of his friends crushes and sniggers about it while showing it to his friend. it's basically his little thing whenever he's told that someone has a crush, he doesn't do it to a big extent but just one of two pictures and it's usually just from the back or the side. he's been told multiple of times to quit and delete them but secretly they all knows he's doing them a favour cause when kazu sends them the photos they don't delete 'em

๑ peh holds grudges against people just for the sake of it, if he met someone and they had accidentally done something like step on peh's shoe then the next time they see eachother he would death stare them until they walk past and out of eye view, sometimes he just randomly feels like making enemies even despite being on 'silent and mutural' terms with someone.

๑ when akkun first had the thought of becoming a hairdresser he attempted in cutting his own hair and it actually turned out pretty good, cause of this he ended up cutting makotos hair however akkun had purposely cut his hair badly out of revenge for leaving 'filthy magazines' in akkuns room where his mom had found- making him to be unintentionally framed by makoto

๑ kisaki has a shit tone of books about manipulation and how to read people, how to carefully plot plans and use everything and anything to his own advantage even if things don't work out

๑ the reason why shion get frequent stomach aces is cause he has a bit of sweet tooth, he doesn't get hungry often so he forgets to actually eat a propper meal sometimes but when he sees something sweet and colourful he can't help but take more than a peck at it.

๑ at some point mitsuya accidentally knocked over a massive jar of beads over at the sowing club and took 2 hours collecting each one

๑ when taiju first started mending to his restaurant he had a bit of a high temper and would crack easily to his new employees if they spilled something or cut up a carrot with incorrect sizes, but after getting used to owning a business he somehow became the 'best boss' and grew to be pretty chill even if someone does a mistake - unless if it's a continuous mistake, then he'll get pissed

๑ taiju had a massive fixation with sharks and cool, colourful looking fish when he was younger. going to aquariums on a daily basis and as a kid he had collected little figurines of sharks, orcas and killer whales that he displayed. up till now he still have one of the shark toys displayed on a shelf since it was his all time favourite.

๑ yazuha hates bugs (cannon) and at some point she saw a weird looking incest in the bathroom and was begging hakkai to kill it or simply get it away for her but even he was disgusted by it so they kept on going back and forth about what to do about it before they both decided to team up and tackle it together. yazuha put a cup over it but while doing so the cup got knocked over from her shaky hands causing the both of them to scream as the bug started to move about but hakkai quickly put the cup back over it. they had to take a small breather and relax a little from the nerves before following through any more.

๑ Hina has a small collection of cute keychains, some of them are small plushies and a few are her favourite characters and others are random, small objects. she has some hanging on many different bags, her keys and a few hanging on thumb tacks that are stuck in a cork board on display

๑ Hina is really confrontational about anything that bothers her for other people's sake, in class most people try not to say anything rude about other people knowing that she'll over hear and they'll get their ear bitten off by her. cause of this she's kinda like the school hero against the bullies.

 ♡---

[watchyoubloom]

like i’m falling into you | drw x sfk x reader

2K words | all fluff | lots of kissing | title from “honey” by chance emerson | sometimes you want two boyfriends and you want those boyfriends to be boyfriends, okay? and so what?

summary: you and sam cook dinner while you wait for danny to come home. the three of you get a little distracted catching up.

(this is dedicated to @hearts-hunger , my fellow “i want two boyfriends” brainrot haver, mainly bc i love her but also to cheer her up. maddie, ily ❣️) (and a special thanks to @allieisacrybaby for the read through and encouragement to post even though i was nervous! ily forever ❣️)

A/N: a very gentle reminder that this is fiction and does not in any way translate to reality or my actual thoughts on the two pretty best friends this is about. kapeesh?

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Are you sure I can’t help?” You ask Sam again, watching him chop the veggies you’d picked up from the farmer’s market earlier that day from where you’re perched atop the counter. “I feel bad, just sitting here.”

You and Sam had decided to whip up dinner for when Danny got home from his round of golf. You had already prepped everything else, the timer on the oven counting down, and Sam had taken over prepping the fresh veggies for a salad.

“Nope,” Sam answers you, making sure to put extra emphasis on the ‘p’. He gives you a faux-serious look and points at you with the tip of the knife he’s using. “You already did most of the leg work. Just sit there and look pretty, please.”

“I will try my best,” you fake mild concern, giving him a little salute and earning yourself a wink.

Sam finishes cutting the bell pepper in front of him and sets the knife down, stepping over so he’s in front of you. He eases in between your legs, your knees bracketing his hips, and reaches up to twirl the strand of hair that’s fallen loose from behind your ear around his finger. “And look at you, succeeding already,” he says, his eyes drifting from your own down to your mouth. “You know what sounds good, though?”

You quirk an eyebrow up and dance your fingers along the nape of his neck, having draped your arms across his shoulders the second he got close enough. His hair is thrown up in a loose bun to avoid it getting in his way while he cooks, but there’s the ever-errant strand at his nape, and you twirl it in the same way he’d played with your hair. “What’s that, Sammy?”

“A kiss.” His hands have found your hips and smooth back to your ass, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. Closer to him. “Or a few kisses, maybe.”

“Is that right?” You ask, but don’t give him the chance to answer. You cup his face in your hands and draw him to you, and he kisses you sweetly. His hands make their way under your t-shirt, smoothing up your back, and then he grasps your waist, thumbs stroking along your ribcage.

You kiss soft and slow, with no real intent behind except to be close to each other. Sam’s hands wander, as do yours, and your legs wrap around his waist to keep him as close to you as you can.

Neither of you hear the front door open, or Danny’s amused chuckle when he finds you in the kitchen. It’s only when he says, “Oh, hello,” that your brain comes back to Earth long enough to realize he’s home, and you pull your hand from where it had been cupping the side of Sam’s neck to reach for him, continuing to kiss Sammy while you do so.

Danny sets his things down and walks over to the two of you, taking your hand as soon as it’s in reach. He stops once he’s behind Sam, banding his free arm around Sam’s middle and resting his chin on his shoulder.

You pull away from Sam then, a little dazed, and grin when your eyes land on Danny.

“Hi, Dan,” you greet him, pulling your hand from his to cup his face in your palm. You’ve got a hand on each of their cheeks, now, and the way both of your guys are looking at you has your head in the clouds. You lean in and give Danny a quick kiss. “How was golf?”

“Pretty good. Shot two under.”

“Course you did,” Sam says, turning to press a kiss to Danny’s cheek. He pulls back and looks at him for a second, taking in his appearance, before turning back to you. “Someone didn’t wear his sunscreen,” Sam sing-songs softly, telling on Danny, and it’s only then that you finally notice the tell-tale smattering of freckles across his nose, the tint of red across the tops of his cheeks.

“Daniel,” you pretend to be stern, but can’t help but smile when he turns his face and presses a kiss to your palm.

“Oops?” He says, and Sam laughs as Danny tickles his side in retaliation for pointing out his sunburn. “I was gonna wear my hat all day.”

“Would that be the one that’s sitting on your head backwards?” You ask, and Sam laughs again, earning him another squeeze of Danny’s hand at his side. He jolts and giggles a little, but can’t get away with Danny bracketing him against you and your legs still on either side of him. You take pity on him and distract Danny by tracing the pad of your thumb faintly across his cheekbone. “Does it hurt?”

“Nah,” he says, shrugging his shoulder. “Now. Let me in on these kisses, please.”

You oblige immediately, leaning in to press your lips to Danny’s. His free hand, the one not currently resting on Sam’s stomach, joins Sam’s on your hip. You feel their fingers interlock, Danny’s fingers squeezing Sam’s gently. Sam’s other hand is still cupping the side of your face, and he holds you like he’s the one kissing you, holds you like Danny would if it were his hand on your face.

You feel Sam’s lips at your cheek, your jaw, your neck, and you pull away from Danny to capture them with your own. Danny copies what Sam was doing, starts littering Sam’s neck, his jaw, the sensitive spot behind his ear with little kisses. After a second, you withdraw and nudge them towards each other, watching as Sam cranes his neck enough to be able to meet Danny’s mouth from over his shoulder.

“Sammy,” you murmur after a moment, your thumb stroking along the side of Sam’s neck. “Come here.”

He thinks you mean for another kiss, which you give him, but then you turn him so his back is to your chest and he’s facing Danny. You hook your chin over his shoulder and kiss his cheek, then turn your gaze to Danny, who’s smiling softly at the two of you.

“There you are,” Danny says, his eyes flitting between the two of you. He copies what you did earlier and takes each of your faces in a hand, his touch gentle and warm. “Missed you guys today.”

“We missed you, too,” you reply, and Sam nods his agreement, your face moving with his as he does, since your cheeks are pressed together. “Maybe we’ll go with you next time.”

Danny’s face lights up, and you know right then that no matter the early hour, the next time he asks you two to join him, you’ll both be there. Neither of you are very good, but every now and then you like to go join him for a round and catcall him while you sip drinks in the cart, or let him try to adjust your swing or explain the types of clubs to you. You know it can feel a bit chaotic when it’s all of you, so you give him the chance to have a serious round most times- going with his dad or uncle or buddies who are actually decent at the game- but it’s still an occasional fun date for the three of you.

Danny’s pressed all the way against Sam’s front, now, and his hands drop down to rest on your upper thighs, bracketing Sam in. “I think that sounds great,” Danny says, and leans in to drop a kiss to Sam’s bottom lip before doing the same to you. “And I’m gonna hold you to it when neither of you wants to get out of bed to get to the course.”

“Could schedule a later tee time,” Sam grumbles, but he’s unable to hide his smile as he says it. His fingers dance up Danny’s chest and he hooks one behind the strip of buttons of his golf polo, the weight of his hand tugging the collar down a bit and exposing the patch of dark chest hair there. Sam’s head is still leaned back against your shoulder, and you kiss him on the cheek again. “Doesn’t have to be at the ass-crack of dawn.”

Danny laughs, not bothering to point out at eight in the morning isn’t quite the ass-crack of dawn. Sam has never loved early wake up calls- considers anything before ten to be too early- and is well known for his tendency to cut off his alarm and roll right back over in bed.

“I’ll see what I can do, Sleeping Beauty,” Danny replies, one of his hands coming up to cup Sam’s face again, thumb stroking across one of Sam’s now slightly pinker cheeks. “Anything else?”

“Don’t think so, no,” Sam replies, as primly as he can muster with the smile still tugging at his lips.

“I have something,” you interject, raising a finger in the air. You turn it and crook it towards you in a come hither motion when Danny’s eyes find yours, and then pucker your lips expectantly.

Sam and Danny both laugh and oblige immediately, with Sam turning his head to kiss your jawline while Danny leans in and presses his soft lips to yours. You reach over Sam’s shoulder to cup the side of Danny’s neck, and feel as Sam leans in to kiss the other side, always an active participant.

Danny takes turns kissing the two of you, soft and sweet and slow, until the timer going off breaks all three of you out of your haze.

“What’s-“ You start, still a little drunk off kisses. The timer beeps again and brings you back to Earth. “Oh.”

“Oh, damn,” Sam says, sliding out from between you and Danny. He looks over his shoulder at you. “Good thing we remembered to set that timer, hm?”

“Mhmm,” you say, watching Sam put on oven mitts and take the dish out to sit on the counter. Danny slides into the spot Sam had been occupying between your legs, leaning down so his elbows are on the counter on either side of your thighs. It puts you at a slight height advantage over him, and you grin, taking his face in both hands and kissing the tip of his nose before pressing your lips to his again quickly. “We were clearly all very distracted.”

“Don’t go getting too distracted again,” Sam replies, a teasing lilt to his voice as Danny pulls you into yet another kiss. You can hear him puttering around the kitchen, grabbing plates and cutlery, and you start to pull away, to slide off the counter and go to help.

You’re stopped by two big hands at your waist, keeping you in place.

“Dan,” you try to say seriously. “Let’s go help Sammy.”

“Yeah,” Sam chimes in from the dining room, where you can hear him setting the plates down on the table. “Come help Sammy.”

“Or,” Danny offers, and his eyes are on you still even though he speaks loud enough for Sam to hear, too. “And hear me out. We let the food cool for a few minutes and Sam gets his cute ass back in here so I can kiss you two some more.”

There’s silence for a beat, and you grin, your eyes dancing from Danny’s mouth to his eyes and back.

Sam appears back in the doorway to the kitchen. “We should wait for it to cool a little, actually…” He flits back over to the two of you, kitchen towel over his shoulder. Danny turns in your arms to face him, leaning back against you, and Sammy points at you, then at Danny. He steps in between Danny’s legs as he does so, and then drops his hands to rest atop your thighs, now on either side of Danny’s body. “But no getting too distracted.”

Danny salutes and you follow suit, nodding solemnly. “Ay-ay, Captain,” you say, and then reach your hand out to Sam. “Now come here, please.”

Sam is more than happy to oblige, taking his turn as the one doling out kisses.

(And when you end up having to reheat dinner in the microwave later that night, nobody really seems to mind.)

[anna-the-undertaker]

Hiii helloooo hiyaaa :3 really loved ur previous short🩷 whaddaya think about this: cottagecore themed MC? What if an MC has that vibe of a grandparent or an old storybook(like brambly hedge), is very caring and chill, likes to bake, enjoys nature and just feels like home

I loved the softness of this. It made me feel all warm inside just to write it.

Hearthbound

When the brothers first meet MC, they’re struck by their unusual presence. The Royals and the Angels are just as captivated by their charm and warm, nurturing personality. Unlike anyone they’ve ever encountered, MC exudes a serene energy that contrasts sharply with the chaos of the Devildom. Their clothes, always cozy and earth-toned, seem to belong more to a peaceful countryside than the underworld. They’re always wearing an apron, usually dusted with flour, and their hands are often busy kneading dough or tending to a small garden of herbs and flowers they’ve somehow managed to cultivate in the House of Lamentation.

Lucifer

Lucifer notices the change in the atmosphere first. The normally tense and foreboding air of the House of Lamentation has softened since MC’s arrival. He finds himself taking deeper breaths, as if trying to absorb the calming aura they bring. At first, he is perplexed by how someone so gentle could survive in the Devildom, but as he watches them bake a loaf of bread or brew a pot of tea, he begins to understand. The warmth of a fresh-baked pie and the comfort of MC’s presence have a way of disarming his stress, and though he doesn’t outwardly show it, he’s grateful. He’ll often find himself lingering in the kitchen, just to watch them move with such care and intention, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Mammon

Mammon is bewildered by MC’s nurturing ways. He’s used to adrenaline-pumping schemes and risky ventures, but with MC, everything slows down. They treat him with a kindness he’s unaccustomed to, knitting him warm scarves and offering him treats fresh from the oven. Mammon, at first, doesn’t know how to handle this kind of affection, but he quickly becomes addicted to the warmth MC brings. He’ll show up at their door at all hours, complaining about the cold or some imaginary ailment, just to be fussed over and spoiled. And when he smells fresh cookies, he’s the first to dart into the kitchen, hoping for a taste of whatever they’ve baked. There’s a particular chair in the kitchen he’s claimed as his own, and he’ll lounge there, watching them work with a contented grin.

Leviathan

Levi is awkward at first, unsure how to approach someone so different from what he’s used to. But when MC presents him with a hand-knitted blanket, soft and comforting, and bakes a cake decorated with his favorite anime characters, he’s smitten. He starts spending more time out of his room, drawn by the smell of MC’s cooking or the promise of a quiet conversation over tea. MC has a way of drawing him out of his shell, and he finds himself feeling more at ease in their presence than he has with anyone else. They remind him of the gentle characters in his favorite slice-of-life animes, and he treasures every moment they spend together.

Satan

Satan is fascinated by MC’s affinity for nature and the old-world charm they bring to the House. He’s captivated by the way they speak about the plants they’re growing, the herbal remedies they’re concocting, and the stories they tell that seem to come from another time. Satan often finds himself in the garden with them, discussing literature and nature, feeling a rare sense of peace. He admires the way they can make something beautiful out of nothing, turning even the most mundane moments into something special. When they bake, he’s often at their side, assisting with a calm enthusiasm that surprises even him. He feels a deep sense of connection with MC, as if they share an unspoken understanding of the world’s quieter joys.

Asmodeus

Asmo is enchanted by MC’s aesthetic. The softness of their demeanor, the care with which they tend to the house, and the simple beauty they bring to everything they touch—it’s all irresistible to him. He often sits with them as they bake, asking endless questions about the ingredients and marveling at the way they turn simple items into something extraordinary. Asmo loves the way MC makes everything feel cozy and inviting, and he’s constantly asking them to make little treats or craft small gifts that he can share with others. He finds their vibe to be the perfect counterbalance to his own flamboyant energy, and he delights in the way they make the house feel like a true home.

Beelzebub

Beel is immediately drawn to MC’s cooking. The scent of fresh bread or a pie cooling on the windowsill is enough to have him wandering into the kitchen, drawn by the promise of something delicious. MC quickly becomes his favorite person to hang out with, especially when they’re baking. Beel loves to watch them work, the way they move with such patience and care, and he’s always eager to taste-test whatever they’re making. But it’s more than just the food; he feels an undeniable sense of comfort in their presence, as if he’s finally found a place that feels like home. He’s protective of MC in a way that’s almost instinctual, always making sure they’re safe and well, and he never lets anyone disturb them when they’re in the kitchen.

Belphegor

Belphie is initially indifferent, preferring to spend his time napping in his usual spots. But MC’s presence slowly begins to permeate even his dreams. He finds himself seeking out the comfort they provide, often curling up on the couch where they’ve placed one of their handmade blankets. Belphie finds an odd sense of security in MC’s calm demeanor, and he starts to nap in the kitchen or the garden just to be near them. He’s drawn to their warmth and the way they make even the coldest days feel cozy. There’s something about the way MC creates a sense of family and belonging that resonates with him, and he finds himself relaxing in a way he hasn’t in a long time.

Diavolo

Diavolo is immediately fascinated by MC's ability to create an atmosphere of warmth and home in the Devildom. The future Demon King is used to grand events and the formalities of royal life, but MC’s simplicity and genuine kindness are a breath of fresh air for him. He finds himself drawn to the calm and peaceful energy that surrounds them, often seeking them out when he needs a break from his duties. He loves the way MC can make even the grandest castle feel like a cozy home, and he often invites them to the palace just to enjoy their company. He loves hearing about their life and experiences, finding their stories and outlook on life refreshing and grounding. He might even ask them to help him create a more welcoming atmosphere in the palace, valuing their input and enjoying the transformation they bring.

Barbatos

Barbatos is perhaps the most subtly affected by MC’s presence. As someone who takes immense pride in his role and responsibilities, Barbatos is not easily swayed by emotions or attachments. However, MC’s quiet strength and nurturing nature do not go unnoticed by him. He admires their attention to detail, whether it’s in baking a perfect loaf of bread or tending to their small garden. Barbatos often finds himself silently watching as MC works, appreciating the care they put into everything they do. He might even join them in the kitchen from time to time, offering his assistance and sharing in the peacefulness of the moment. Their influence softens his strict demeanor, and he finds a rare sense of calm in their presence, something he hadn’t realized he was missing.

Simeon

Simeon is immediately charmed by MC’s gentle nature and the serene atmosphere they create. As an angel who appreciates beauty and harmony, Simeon finds great joy in MC’s cottagecore lifestyle. He often visits them to share tea and enjoy quiet conversations, finding solace in the simplicity and purity of their company. MC’s love for nature resonates deeply with Simeon, and they often bond over their shared appreciation for the natural world. He might bring them small gifts from the Celestial Realm, like a rare flower or a special blend of tea, wanting to share a piece of his world with them. Simeon feels a deep connection to MC, appreciating the way they bring light and warmth to the Devildom, and he often finds himself inspired to write about them in his stories.

Solomon

Solomon is intrigued by MC’s unique presence in the Devildom. As a human who has seen and experienced much, he’s not easily impressed, but there’s something about MC that fascinates him. Their lifestyle, their nurturing nature, and the way they’ve managed to make even the Devildom feel like home pique his curiosity. Solomon enjoys teasing MC, often challenging their calm demeanor with his playful antics, but he also deeply respects the peace they bring. He might ask them to share their recipes or engage them in discussions about herbal remedies and natural magic, valuing their knowledge and perspective. Solomon finds a certain comfort in MC’s presence, appreciating the balance they bring to the often chaotic world of the Devildom. Their relationship is a mix of playful banter and deep mutual respect, and Solomon finds himself looking forward to their time together.

Luke

Luke is immediately drawn to MC’s warmth and kindness. As the youngest and most innocent of the group, Luke quickly becomes attached to MC, viewing them almost like a parental figure. He loves spending time with them in the kitchen, helping them bake cookies or tend to their garden. Luke feels safe and loved in MC’s presence, and he often seeks them out when he’s feeling homesick or overwhelmed by the Devildom. MC’s nurturing nature brings out Luke’s protective instincts, and he often declares that he’ll keep them safe from any harm, despite his small stature. He’s deeply appreciative of the way MC treats him with such care and gentleness, and he often brings them little gifts or tries to help them with their tasks as a way of showing his gratitude.

In the end, they all come to realize that MC, with their cottagecore charm and nurturing ways, has filled their lives with a sense of warmth and love they hadn’t known they were missing. Each of them, in their own way, becomes attached to the feeling of home that MC brings, and they all find themselves seeking out the comfort of their presence, knowing that with MC around, even the darkest corners of the Devildom feel a little brighter.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Just had the wild realisation that I can write whatever I want here. This is a thing that I am allowed to do. I can scream into the void. I don't have to tag my posts. Grammar is a social construct. It doesn't matter who's listening. The people I love and who love me will talk to me posts or no posts. Someone's going to read this and smile. Even if it's just me.

I can watch only the finales of shows to see their happy endings. I can eat cornflakes in the afternoon. I can go into bookstores just to creepily stare at the hardcovers of Victorian literature. I can write meticulous notes for subjects I'm not studying, and highlight it to Pinterest perfection. I can tell people I want to bite them out of sheer love. I can write long emails to my friends about weird slippers that remind me of them.

I can tell you that it's been a hot year, the hottest one to date, and that April hasn't seen a single drop of rain fall onto the earth. But it's hanging in the air, making it heavy with moisture and that relentless, relentless heat. It's muggy and the swamp theme I chose for my bullet journal couldn't be more appropriate. I can tell you how I keep singing that song in my head, Corner Of My Sky, the one whose music video has Michael Sheen wrangling with an occult toaster. "The rain, the rain, the rain, thank god the rain."

I can tell you anything I like. I can tell you that I'm afraid of being forgotten, that I've always longed to be famous, that I have a hard time not caring about every single little thing. I can tell you that I'm ace and I'm afraid that no one will ever love me the way I need them too, even if I love them the way that they need me to. I can tell you the nightmares have gotten better, but they're still there, they don't seem to want to leave me. I can tell you that I'm so much more ill and broken than I dare think about. Because I am afraid that if I start thinking about it, I shan't stop, and then it will become everything. And I don't want it to be everything. I can tell you that. I can tell you that I have beautiful memories, too, not just the fear and the loss and the anger.

I can tell you that I'm a performer, an entertainer, and I love making people laugh. I'm more comfortable on stage, where people are already listening, than trying to go up and make conversation to groups of strangers. I can tell you how wonderful it feels to have been able to speak to so many people all around the world, to have them know me, to listen to me, and to listen to them in turn. I can tell you that I don't know where to draw the line sometimes, I'm never entirely sure when I'm joking, and the act easily becomes a second skin. I can tell you all of that.

I can tell you all the things that I used to tell myself in letters sealed in envelopes addressed to Future Me. And it won't matter, and it does matter, and it's all so fucking absurd. It doesn't make any sense at all. Does it? I don't know. I can tell you that I don't know very much at all. Knock knock. Who's there? No one. No one who? No one who matters. Knock knock. I haven't been able to walk around for a month. This room is an oven and I'm being slow-cooked, broiled into a little Asmi pie. I read fanfiction yesterday after a long while. That was nice. I think it's really cool that you all know me. You do know me. Sometimes better than I know myself. I can tell you that.

I can tell you the truth. I can tell you I love you. And that to be seen and to be known is a gift that I will always be grateful for. I can tell you that you don't have to listen. But if you do, then hi! Nothing makes sense. Let's sit in the nonsense for a while. I have biscuits. Would you like one? I'm very human. It's one of the things that gets me so easily hurt. Maybe it happens to you too. I can tell you that my plant Crowley is surviving, unlike the others did. I can tell you that maybe you and I are, too.

It's 8:02 in the morning. I might just eat breakfast now. It does seem like the thing to do. How weird and wonderful that is.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Gentle DabiHawks makes my heart go UMFFF💕

DabiHawks Rainy Day Together ☔️

Like imagine a rainy day at home - Hawks pulling a fresh batch of cookies out of the oven. He’s in his favorite pair of well loved sweatpants (the ugly grey ones with the grease stain on the left butt cheek) and he’s got his favorite album playing on the record player - slow and mournful. The apartment is sleepy and warm and the gentle sound of rain pattering against the window is so relaxing.

Dabi rolls off the couch and wipes sleep out of his eyes. He comes up behind Hawks and gives him a sleepy kiss on the cheek before grabbing the kettle and starting a pot of their favorite herbal tea. He’s wearing a strange combination of dark, fitted running leggings and a rejected t-shirt design from Hawks’ line of hero merch that features a derpy chibi illustration of Hawks’ sweet face. It’s a running joke between them that it’s the ugliest shirt in existence. Dabi is the only person on Earth who’s allowed to wear it.

Hawks swats Dabi away from the piping hot cookies on the counter (“you’ll burn yourself!”) and Dabi grins widely as he snatches up an oatmeal cookie anyway and then promptly burns the roof of his mouth (“I told you so!”).

They put on an old, syrupy romcom that they pretend to hate, picking apart the dialogue and the acting choices as they snack on cookies and tea. They slump into a comfortable position on the couch - Dabi’s long legs stretched across Hawks’ lap, Hawks’ hand resting on Dabi’s thigh. They snuggle up underneath an old purple throw blanket that a fan gifted Hawks when he was just starting out as a hero. He tucks the blanket around Dabi’s icy feet, reminiscing about how much the simple fan gift had meant to him when he had received it at 19 - he remembers how his heart had felt like it was glowing.

Their tiny black cat settles on Dabi’s chest and falls asleep to the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Hawks and Dabi’s eyes meet and they both grin at their sweet shelter cat as he purrs in his sleep.

Hawks can’t remember having ever been so happy before. Here he is - cuddled up with his little imperfect family, cozy and safe on a rainy day. He smiles and basks in the comfort and softness of it all. He squeezes Dabi’s thigh and thinks - even bad guys get happy endings, sometimes.

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

Thanks so much for reading!! HotWings 4ever 🔥❤️

Similar MHA fics I've written:

And then he meets Keigo.

BakuDeku | A Rainy Day Together ☔️💚💥

My Full Master List

[thelastofhyde]

the likeability paradox. ( teaser )

this fic has now been posted, read here !

pairing. joel miller x fem!reader

synopsis. joel miller is not a man who strives to be liked, with a chip on his shoulder and a scowl on his face, until his world is flipped on its axis when the pretty young thing, with an irritatingly unwavering smile and the literal sun shinning out her ass, that lives under bill and frank's roof says those five damned words: i don't like you, joel.

warnings. enemies to lovers ig, slow burn (i have intentions to drag this out into several long oneshots that can be read separately), unrequited love (except you will never catch joel miller admitting he feels anything beyond grief, hunger and exhaustion), pining, sunshine!reader, grumpy!joel aka canon joel, kinda perv!joel (if you squint), implied queer!tess, undefined age gap (reader implied late-20s), canon violence, smut (oral- f receiving, fingering, praise, degradation, possessiveness, panty stealing, dirty talk, dubcon ig, hints at ass-play, discussions of a lacklustre sex-life pre-apocalypse). this is set prior to ellie!!

word count. 10k. ( predicted )

hyde’s input. was hoping to finish and post this today in celebration of pedge's bday, but uni assignments got in the way and here i am posting a teaser instead of the full fic :(

nsfw beneath the cut, 18+ only !! ( unedited )

his only saving grace is that he can't see you.

hearing your pretty whines, and hand-muffled moans, and heavy intakes of breath is enough to curse him for the rest of his waking days, condemned to wander the wastelands of earth knowing the noises you make on the brinks of pleasure, with a touch-starved man satiating his hunger for flesh and blood with the sugary sins of your soaked cunt.

burrowing deeper into you, his consciousness rips through the fog of his lust to curse out his perversions as the tip of his hooked nose bumps against the puckered entrance of your ass. it does nothing to stop him tearing his tongue away from your clit, flattened as he drags it over the expanse of your cunt, and over your taint and up the crack of your behind.

"n- ah," you can't deny him while sounding so eager for more, the tip of his tongue now circling your back entrance, mimicking the treatment previously given to your little pearl. "no, don't, not there."

next time, he thinks, we'll try that next time.

sights returned to his previous desires, he works to rip every sigh, and every whine, and every dirty little song you'll grace him with. the sound of whatever record tess has put on in the other room becomes a safety blanket, dousing you both in the warm protection of not being overheard.

and, then, he does it, he makes the ultimate mistake.

his eyes flicker to the left and he finds himself faced with the stove that sits within bill and frank's- and, by an extension he does not enjoy to remember, your- kitchen. there's little that's remarkable about the appliance, just your standard, everyday oven that he's sure you've spent countless hours cooking up those comforting meals he's come to anticipate each time tess tells him they're due a visit.

except, the oven door is made of glass.

glass which now paints the most pornographic masterpiece for no eyes but his own. you, with hands gripping the island's counter like your life depends on it, and the skirt of that goddamn dress he's envied all evening for the way it got to rest against the warmth of your thighs, and your head thrown back, curving your spine in a way that has him wondering about the other ways he'd be able to bend and break you beneath his touch. and then there's him, down on his knees like a devotee laying himself down to worship his goddess, face burrowed in the space between your legs, mouth devouring you from behind with the help of his hands, the same ones that had strangled a man less than a day before and reigned fire down on countless others for years, that now grip the meat of your thighs to pull you back onto him, fucking his tongue into your sopping heat.

the image will haunt him more than any man he's killed.