#except the cookie is a blade

[gurugirl]

Heartburn | bfd!harry

Summary: You and Harry have been anxious about seeing Fae at your baby shower but things go so well it leaves you both feeling relieved. Except for the small run-in with Fae's mom.

A/N: It's been a while! Forgive me!

Word Count: 4k+

Warning: mentions of pregnancy symptoms, smut, lactation kink (requested!), minor angst

bfd!harry masterlist

. .

When Harry got home that day, he was early to your surprise. You kissed him on the lips and then followed him into the kitchen, waddling after him as you asked him how his day was.

 He placed his palms down on the counter and let out a deep sigh, “Well… Fae’s mom stopped at the office to talk to me.”

 You placed your hands on your tummy, “And what happened?”

 Harry looked at you then down to your belly before moving toward you and placing his big hands over yours, “She had some extreme opinions about this. But I told her it wasn’t her business. Because it’s not. But she isn’t happy. She said some things that made it seem like she might stop by here to talk to you so I left work early just in case. I think she was just trying to get me riled up.”

"Why would she want to talk to me, though? What good does that do?"

"I don't know but she may be dropping off Fae for the baby shower tomorrow. Fae's car is in the shop. So it might be a possibility. I don't know if she was just bluffing but I'll be here with you all day so I won't let it get out of hand."

You nodded, "I know if you're here it'll be fine."

Harry leaned in and kissed your forehead sweetly. The fact that he came home early just in case his ex-wife might show up had you quite comforted. He was often protective, especially lately.

"What did you eat today?" He lifted a brow and took your hand to lead you toward the kitchen cupboard.

He always asked for the rundown of what you ate.

"I blended up all that fruit you cleaned for me this morning and added oats and frozen spinach…" you watched him grin as he pulled down a glass, "Then I had the rest of the grilled chicken sandwich leftover from Lando's then those chocolate chip oat cookies you made."

He poured water into the glass and handed it to you, "And how much water have you had today?"

You rolled your eyes, "A few glasses. Enough to send me running to the bathroom all morning."

"Good. Have another for me," he thumbed at your cheek with a satisfied grin.

What he didn't know was that you'd eaten every last chocolate chip oat cookie that was left. 7 in total. He'd figure it out soon enough. But he made amazing cookies and for some reason, the addition of the oats just made the texture far more appealing and you couldn't stop eating them.

"Take a nap today?"

You shook your head as you gulped the glass down.

"Not tired?"

Not after all that sugar you'd eaten.

"Feeling nervous about tomorrow, I think. Fae texted me this morning to ask if she should bring anything and I got so excited over her asking I got really bad heartburn and had to take a walk up and down the street to calm myself."

"You got heartburn from being excited?" He asked as he reached into the refrigerator to look for something. You peeked over his shoulder.

Shrugging to yourself you put your hand on his back, "I think so. Seems like I get heartburn from just about anything these days."

Harry peered over each shelf and then turned, closing the refrigerator door, "Where are all the cookies?"

A hot flush of slight embarrassment washed over your neck and your shoulder blades, "I ate them."

"All of them?" He asked with a surprised laugh.

You nodded with a sweet smile.

Harry placed his hands on your cheeks, cradling your face as he laughed through his nose, "You sure that's not the reason for your heartburn? There were like ten of them."

"Seven," you corrected with a sputtered laugh and Harry's shoulders shook in quiet amusement as he pushed the tip of his nose into yours. "And I ate the cookies after the heartburn. In fact, they seemed to cure it."

Harry squished a kiss to your lips and then turned to open up the refrigerator again, "Well then I need to make you more cookies, don't I?"

. .

Your nerves were on fire. You woke up extra early because you couldn't sleep and you couldn't get comfortable. You were going to be seeing Fae and you felt like you were going to throw up. God, being pregnant made your body respond to stress so violently. It was one thing you would not miss about being knocked up. That and the random heartburn and how clumsy you'd gotten.

But you couldn't say you hated pregnancy. You loved carrying Harry's baby and you had already fallen in love with it. Also, when you were in the mood to have sex, your orgasms were so intense it melted every little bit of worry away.

Standing in the kitchen with a chocolate chip oat cookie in hand from the fresh batch Harry had made, you heard the sound of shuffling coming from behind and then felt his hands on your upper arms, "Up so early, baby. Everything okay?"

You chewed your bite and let yourself lean back into his chest, "I'm just so nervous about today. Felt like I was gonna throw up."

Harry smiled against your ear, "So your solution is to eat more cookies?"

You nodded and laughed when he ran his fingers up your ribs, "Mama can eat as many oat cookies as she wants. Need anything else?"

His fingers continued their path up and around to your front, grazing over your nipples and softly squeezing at them over the cotton fabric of your oversized nightshirt.

You inhaled sharply through your teeth, "Careful. I've been like… lactating a little."

Harry didn't stop kneading at them, his rough morning voice in your ear was slow, "I know. So fucking sexy, aren't you? Gonna miss when this is gone," he ran his palms over your tummy and then kissed down the back of your neck before turning you around and pulling you by the hand toward the living room. The sun hadn't completely risen yet. The living room was dark but there was the slightest peek of orange sun coming in as he brought you to the couch, making you sit down as he got to his knees between your legs.

You had long forgotten about the cookie in your hand when he took it from you and placed it on the coffee table behind him, smoothing his palms up your thighs. The sweltering nerves you felt upon waking had suddenly turned into a heat pooling in your guts. He slid his hands up your nightshirt and over your bare tummy, lifting the fabric until he'd gotten to your tits where he cupped both sides and leaned forward to suckle at each side. His wet tongue and warm puffy lips on your sensitive breasts had your skin igniting.

He coasted his gaze up to your eyes as his mouth pulled at a nipple and he moaned, the look he gave you was a budding spark of fire as you watched his tongue lave the underside of your breast before wrapping his lips around your bud and sucking.

He blinked and parted from you as he wrapped his hand around your tit and focused on your nipple intently. You were leaking. He pressed his tongue over your tender nipple and lapped at it, swiping up the colostrum and then attaching his lips to take another pull, suckling as he looked up at you. A frown line carved onto the bridge of his nose before he closed his eyes and a groan vibrated into your breast.

You were surprised by how much you enjoyed it. The thrum of arousal that poured into your tummy as he laved and sucked bloomed and swelled until you were mewling with your fingers in his hair and your head thrown back into the cushions of the couch.

He kissed his way to the other side, wet smacking sounds coming from his mouth as he latched on again, working your other nipple until that side was leaking as well.

But then his fingertips found the warm crease between your legs and he gently stroked his pads up and down when he realized how wet you'd gotten.

"You like that?" His words were slurred, lazy as he looked at you through half-lidded eyes.

You nodded, "I do."

He grinned with his jaw slack as he watched your eyes when he tucked two fingers into your pussy and gently slid them in and out, "I can tell."

Harry put his lips back on your breasts as he fingered you slowly right there on the couch as the sun came up. He was moaning and rocking himself against the cushion as your pussy slushed around his fingers.

Every time he pressed in all the way his palm bumped over your clit but it wasn't enough. Finally, you grabbed his wrist and held his fingers in place so his palm was flat on your bud as you attempted to move your hips and roll against him. Everything was harder with your big belly in the way but you were so close…

"Fuck…" you gasped when you felt the tiny shock of your orgasm shudder beneath your skin. It was a light orgasm. Not the usual intense ones you'd been having lately but it was good and it had your skin tingling.

Harry watched you as you finished and he moaned softly, hips still nudging into the couch as he looked from your face to your tits and licked up little droplets seeping from your nipples.

You sighed and slid your bottom to the edge of the couch with your legs still spread for him, "You need it too."

Harry was practically shaking as he pushed his shorts down and pumped his cock, smearing his head around on your wet folds before gently pushing himself inside with a heavy groan of relief.

He was breathing softly, small puffs of moans and grunts as he watched himself glide in and out. You both looked down at the spectacle. Your big belly was in the way but every time he pulled back to his tip you could see the base of him coated in your wetness before he pressed his length back into the hilt.

And that was what felt like real relief. His cock. His fingers, always magical… but his cock… life-changing. You couldn't even say that was a dramatic thing to think either. Harry's dick was perfect. Big and hard when it needed to be, filled up all your bits on the inside just right. You were no saint before Harry. You'd slept with a decent amount of guys to know a good cock, and not even a good cock could save a guy from being bad at sex. But Harry had it all in that department. He was so good and his cock was beautiful. So meaty and so long. He knew exactly how to make you come.

You inhaled sharply and kept your eyes on his face as he worked into you steadily. He was fucking you in that way that drove you crazy. Not fast and not slow. Like he was taking a nice sports car up the street and just hitting the speeding limit. It could have gone so much faster. It could have taken your breath away and given you a rush. But right then, he had just one purpose; getting you from point A to point B gently and with precision. Too fast and he worried he might hurt you. Too slow and he'd come before you could. But this… steady and strong with the kind of build that was going to make you explode at your arrival was what he was shooting for.

"Mmm…" you moaned and he flicked his eyes up to your face.

"Yeah… How's that feel? Gonna come again, Y/n?"

You twisted your face up and nodded, "Mmhmm… yes… Just like that, Harry."

He rolled into you languid, solid, thick. It made your blood sizzle as your legs quivered.

But then he leaned in, cock still driving into you, and began working on your nipples again. Sucking and smushing and kissing wetly. He moaned against your breasts and you felt the heavy throb of his cock inside of you.

When he ghosted the tip of his tongue over your bud slowly you watched him lap at your milk. His eyes were pools of ink on yours, dark pupils spread over his irises as he continued fucking into you at that maddening steady pace.

You began to flutter and squeeze around him, your voice wobbled as you started to come and that time, your orgasm wiped you out. Your limbs shook as Harry's deep voice muttered against your breasts, his cock stretching you wide and then you felt him pumping into you, his own moans a higher octave, soft against your neck as he released his fertile come into your guts.

Now you were ready to take on the day.

. .

Your mother and father were the first to arrive to help with setting the place up. Your aunt and Harry's cousins were next. You tried to distract yourself knowing that soon Fae would be there and you'd be face-to-face with her again. It'd been months since you'd last seen her at Target. And things had been very cordial over text so you were hopeful.

"Harry! I need help pulling this zipper up!" You called from the bedroom, door ajar, hoping he'd hear you from downstairs.

Just before you were about to call out again you heard his heavy steps as he bounded up the stairs toward you. He was always listening for you. You shouldn't have doubted. He'd probably have heard the faintest whisper he was so cautious and protective with you.

"I'm here, baby…" he breathed out and closed the door behind himself, big hands spinning you around so he could finish zipping your dress up. You felt him kiss your shoulder and then your neck, "Gorgeous as always. Feeling good?"

You nodded, "Yeah. Feel really good. Still a little nervous but nothing crazy. Excited to see Fae."

Just then the doorbell rang. It could have been anyone but you and Harry looked at each other for a quick beat, quiet understanding passing between you both. He was nervous about seeing Fae too. She'd only been communicating with you. Had yet to reach out to her father, though she mentioned she was looking forward to seeing him.

And now that you were pregnant, even though you hadn't even yet met your baby, you couldn't imagine what it must feel like to have a strained relationship with them as an adult.

You slid your hand into Harry's, "Let's get down there."

Everything was soft blue and green and yellow with little dashes of pink and violet pastels. You and Harry decided not to find out what the sex was going to be. In truth, you didn't care but you had an inkling it was going to be a girl.

Your mother had set up tables and chairs and snacks were lined up on the kitchen island with cute paper plates that had little yellow bears and green butterflies printed all over them.

It wasn't a formal affair. Your mother had wanted to host the shower at the member's club your dad was part of. But the last thing you wanted was to spend all that money for an afternoon of having friends and family celebrate you for getting knocked up.

The person who had arrived when the doorbell rang was Shelcin. She was dressed in a brightly colored floral dress with big puffy sleeves and ruffles at the hem. It was very Copacabana minus the fruit headdress. You would have expected nothing less.

She kissed your bump and then your cheeks and loudly announced that she bought you the most expensive baby monitor… "That way, even when you and Harry are having hot sex you'll know when the baby's up. No worries about missing a single thing!"

You laughed as your mother placed the gorgeously wrapped box next to the others. Harry's cousin glanced at you and the loud Colombian woman. One thing you'd learned about Shelcin was that she wasn't quiet and she didn't hold back her opinions or vulgarities. You loved it.

With the next chime of the doorbell, you felt Harry behind you as you both stood facing the door. Your mother opened it and there she was. Fae.

Your face brightened and your heart raced as you felt Harry's grip on your arms tighten the slightest, "You okay?"

You looked up at him, "I'm fine. You?"

He blinked and let out a breath, "I will be."

Fae smiled softly as she thanked your mother who took the gift she'd brought. She stepped into the living, looking all around. It was the first time she'd been in the house so it was all new to her.

You and Harry moved toward her and it felt like slow motion as she spotted you and her dad, "Oh wow."

Her eyes got big when she looked down at your belly and you put your hands over your tummy, "I know. About to pop."

Fae hesitated for a moment before stepping in and giving you a hug. It was warm and it felt right. You thought you might pass out, but luckily Harry was standing close just in case your nerves and stress rendered you unconscious.

When Fae pulled away she smiled at her dad, "Hi, dad. You look good. I–"

Harry sniffed and moved in quickly to wrap his arms around his daughter. You knew by that sniff that he was tearing up already.

You watched them as they clung to each other and then you saw his shoulders gently shaking. You knew he'd cry. Harry was emotional, especially about Fae. He didn't talk about it a lot but when you two did sit and discuss it he'd always get worked up over it and have to look up at the ceiling so his tears didn't spill down his face.

Even though you weren't surprised by his tears, it still got you emotional too and you covered your mouth to muffle the small gasp as a tear rolled down your cheek.

Seeing Fae again was better than you imagined. You were still a bit awkward with each other but you were looking forward to rekindling the relationship.

Harry made opening gifts far more entertaining than it should have been. Everyone laughed as Harry made comments and took guesses at what was in each box before handing them to you. He was a regular comedian all of a sudden. You knew he secretly loved the attention.

At one point you picked up a pair of scissors to break through some thick unruly tape on one of the gifts and he quickly dove in and took them from you to open the box himself because he didn't want you to hurt yourself. Everyone oohed and ahhed at how doting he was but you just shook your head and let him have his moment. Honestly, Harry was the star at your baby shower and you really wouldn't have preferred it any other way.

When it was time to toss plates and cups and wrapping paper as guests began to leave, Fae stayed behind to help.

You learned she'd gone to Italy for three weeks over the summer, had started a new job, and had begun dating someone new recently. It was wild how quickly life changed. It didn't feel like all that much time had passed since you'd first started seeing Harry but it was going on 2 years already. Even if a decent chunk of that time was while he was still married, it felt like it'd all just flown by.

Harry joined in to chat with you and his daughter for a while as your mother and father insisted on finishing up cleaning. Fae was so open and receptive that you kept feeling like at any moment the mood would burst. It felt too good to be true.

And it was like you just knew better than to let yourself feel too excited when a knock came to the front door.

Fae glanced toward the sound and then back at you and Harry, "I think it's Mom. She's picking me up."

The three of you stood and walked to the door as Fae opened it up, "Hey. You should have just texted. I'd have met you out there."

Her mother looked from Fae then toward you and your very pregnant belly. A shock of something like hurt and then loathing shadowed her face. Bitterness. She looked up at Harry, "You must be so happy. Your new family should do perfectly to replace your old one."

"Mom, don't." "Hey. Not okay."

Both Harry and Fae spoke at the same time, chiding the woman who slid her gaze back toward you as Harry clutched an arm around you to keep you closer to his side

"I hope you're proud, Y/n. Congratulations. Let's hope your child's best friend doesn't meet H–"

He gently stepped in front of you and pointed outside, "Go. I don't want you here. This is not the time."

Fae put her hands on her mom's arms and turned to look back at you with an expression of apology as she walked them both away from the house, "I'll call you. We'll get together soon."

Harry closed the door and took your hand, "It was such a good day, too."

You reached up to cup his cheek and smiled, "It still is a good day, Harry. Everything with Fae? Nothing can erase that. It was beautiful. Everything. I wish that that hadn't just happened but…" you shook your head as you watched a small smile creep up on his face, "Today was amazing. I'm so happy."

A sheen of tears filled his eyes and he squeezed your hand, "I'm happy too, Y/n. I love you so much."

"So, where should I put all these?" Your mom asked, oblivious to what had just happened as she gestured toward the table filled with gifts, "Upstairs in the baby room?"

You and Harry laughed as you looked at your mother, the sweet moment interrupted. He wiped his eyes and sniffed again.

"Yeah. We can help. I know where I want everything–" You started to move toward the table.

"You will sit down, prop your legs up, and rest while I help your mom and dad," Harry scolded as he walked you to the couch.

Honestly, you should have known that he was going to make you relax. You kissed his cheek as he helped lower you to sit, "You're too much, Harry."

He raised his brow and turned to kiss you quickly on the lips, "Good. Then I'm doing it right." He pulled away and bent down to grasp around your shins and bring your legs up onto the couch before tucking a pillow under your knees.

He stood and looked down at you, "Need anything before I go up there?"

You shook your head, "No. Got the remote right here," you raised it upward and smiled.

"Alright," then he pointed at you, "You better keep your pretty ass right here the whole time. I don't want to have you walking around trying to clean anything up. Understood?"

You laughed softly and saluted him, "Yes, sir."

He shook his head and bent down over you, one hand resting on the arm of the couch behind you as he spoke quietly into your ear, "Watch the attitude or I'll have to give you a spanking."

You reached up for his collar to keep him close and grinned, "You'd spank a pregnant woman?"

A lopsided grin took over his expression and his eyes flashed with something mischievous, "I absolutely would. It would have to be modified of course, but it'll sting your ass just as good. Behave."

He walked away and you watched him, all masculine broad shoulders and dark curls as he disappeared up the stairs with your parents –as if he hadn't just threatened, with heavy sexual undertones no less, to spank your ass.

A wide smile stretched across your face. God, you loved him.

. .

Feedback/Thoughts | Ko-fi | Main Masterlist | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @zayndrivesmeinvain @i83andrew @shamelessfangirl-3 @onceagainace @stoneyggirl2

@fairytale07 @littlenatilda @stylesfever @whoreonmondays @harryspirate

@lovrave @missstyles4 @cherryluvhobi @ladscarlett @hisparentsgallerryy

@chesthairrry @oscarissacsslut @armystay89 @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown

@swiftmendeshoran   @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @closureesny @angelbabyyy99

@damnasstyles @malwtilda @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @ssaama

@onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-h

@lc-fics @mema10

@hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @harrrrystylesslut @elidoho @gotdrxnkonu

@cathy-1997 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa @tiredinwinter @princessaxoxo @angeldavis777

@lillefroe @monicaalexandraaa @hsonlyangelxo @brittanyzelazno @lemoncrushh

@golfrry @caynonmoondreams @danaehldy @mellamolayla @ladscarlett

@heartateasee @littlenatilda @virgopr1ncess @finelinepie @michellekstyles

@harrysredroom @harrydeary @mrs-anna-styles211994 @devilsqueen722 @bananabk9756

@walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @idkkkkkkk123lgb @freedomfireflies @fruity-harry @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

[brittle-doughie]

Doomsday is Calling (Creme Republic)

———————————————————————

Cookie Union Officer: “Excuse me, sir. I can’t let you in.”

Pure Vanilla couldn’t believe it. He had arrived to the Creme Republic along with the other heroes and leaders to discuss the threat of the Beasts.

Yet he was being..turned away?

Cookie Union Officer: “That is right. Unfortunately, you were not invited and neither was your companion.”

White Lily Cookie: “I’m sorry, Pure Vanilla Cookie. I’ve tainted your reputation…”

Y/N Cookie: “Come on, can’t you make an exception? White Lily is not the same as Dark Enchantress Cookie.”

Cookie Union Officer: “Forgive me, Great Y/N Cookie, but haven’t you heard? The Vanilla Kingdom’s membership in the Union has been suspended due to ties with our enemy. As much as I hate going against your word, the Union has made their decision final on this matter.”

Y/N Cookie: “I…er…”

Clotted Cream Cookie: “….”

Golden Cheese Cookie: “….”

Pure Vanilla Cookie: “Y/N Cookie, please. You are also aware that the two are different, don’t you?”

Cookie Union Officer: “I’ll have to ask you to vacate the premises…”

———————————————————————

DOOOT!

Cookie Union Soldier: The forces of the Beasts. We’re doomed…argh! They’re cutting through our defenses!

Y/N Cookie: “Crumbs, we have to fall back to the last defense line!”

Dumpling Cookie: “Go! We’ll cover you!”

Y/N Cookie: “Come on, Cookies! We’re pulling back!”

Salsa Cookie: “They’re already here! Brace yourselves!”

Crowned Cupcake Cookie: “No Beast can ever put me away from you!”

Cookie Union Soldier: “Too powerful…ugh!”

The walls set up to protect the perimeter are brought down with a mighty force. You and the others brace yourselves for the impending attack.

Arrows fire right at Salsa Cookie, who did her best to dodge or deflect them, but it came at the cost of exhausting her. This left her with just a large enough blind spot for an arrow to strike her side, making her yell out in pain.

Burning Spice Cookie rushed at Crowned Cupcake, trading blows with their weapons. Both having a rush with their strikes, but share the same goal of bringing down the opponent before them. Crowned tried as she might, but one powerful strike was enough to send Crowned Cupcake flying back and landing next to you.

Dumpling Cookie, being left with no choice, readied her dual chopsticks.

A flash of purple light from amidst the smoke was all the warning she got before Silent Salt Cookie rushed at her with their blade, blocking them just in the nick of time.

You needed a bit to try and drag back Salsa and Crowned to safety, but that was barely enough before Dumpling herself was pushed back towards you.

Dumpling Cookie: “Go, Y/N Cookie. Run!”

Get it? :D

Y/N Cookie: “I won’t leave you!”

Mystic Flour Cookie: “Then allow me to do it for you. Fall.”

The three cookies before you started to cough as they turned pale.

Y/N Cookie: “No! What are you doing!”

Shadow Milk Cookie: “Lookie lookie, I found my Cookie!”

Y/N Cookie: “I’ll stop you! No matter what it takes!”

Shadow Milk Cookie: “Ooh, so scary~! Come on, Y/N Cookie. Your Guardians can’t save you this time~! Isn’t this just so fun to finally meet uninterrupted~?”

Mystic Flour Cookie: “This was a long time coming, Y/N Cookie. Futile as always to try and fight it…”

Burning Spice Cookie: “How incredibly BORING! Why did I expect a princess to entertain me with that effort!”

Silent Salt Cookie: “….”

Eternal Sugar Cookie: “Finally, my love! Oh, how I’ve waited all this time! I can way better than a dainty princess!”

Y/N Cookie: “You-“

Pure Vanilla Cookie: “No….”

Y/N Cookie: “What the?”

You turned to your right to see Pure Vanilla Cookie, his head down as he muttered his words. Was he watching this whole time?

His head suddenly snapped up and for the first time in ever, he was angry. He was very angry…

Pure Vanilla Cookie: “YOU WILL ALL REGRET COMING HERE! I WILL DESTROY ALL OF YOU!!!”

———————————————————————

[vagabond-umlaut]

you kiss the back of my legs and i want to cry

only the sun has come this close, only the sun

gojo satoru x wife!reader; tooth-rotting domestic fluff; gojo LOVERBOY™️ satoru; you aren't any better than him [but less poetic abt the predicament]; tw: pregnancy, 1 tiny mention of throwing up; satoru calls you 'cookie'; and he redefines the word besotted here; his thoughts are also a little yandere-ish but tht's cute, methinks; 2.3k wc; i just wish satoru was real and in my arms rn T-T

belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna

the fic title and summary don't rly hv a very strong connection to the fic plot— except the fact they fit both satoru's & reader's characters in this series to a tee ^_^

fic title and summary from 'gps' by shauna barbosa // header frm pinterest // divider by @/benkeibear // jjk isn't mine

you are clingy.

always have been, in fact, now that gojo thinks about it. long before the two of you were married. long before you were engaged. quite a long time before the two of you were anything apart from friends at best, acquaintances at worst.

yet now, as he feels a pair of arms squeeze tighter around his middle, not really still very much squeezing the air out of him— your husband reckons you've grown loads clingier now—

and he loves you for this. loving you even more when he feels kisses being pressed into the space between his shoulder blades.

soft lips, a tad chapped. not without the shy grazing of your teeth.

just how he likes it.

very much how he adores you.

affection, settled deeper than should be feasible into the hollow of his chest, flutters a little when you nuzzle into his back; that pleased little hum of yours quick to follow it. smiling, gojo turns his head a touch to catch a glimpse of you. it takes a beat before you remove your face to lock eyes with him, before returning your face to his back.

he huffs a chuckle, sounding incredibly fond all the same. his feelings for you can never be suppressed anyway. time has proved this to him enough number of times.

he runs a finger down the length of your arm, relishing how it leaves a line of goosebumps in its wake—

"you wanna tell me something, cookie?" your husband finally asks.

your reply doesn't come immediately. and when it does, it is nothing more than a noncommittal noise. too spoiled. too stubborn. a bit too satisfied as well, the emotion further expressed when you nuzzle his back yet again.

gojo's smile grows bigger. his cheeks hurt a little.

he thinks he can live forever with this kind of pain, not even a sigh of complaint ever leaving him.

"aha—" he exclaims loudly, still soft enough to keep the quiet of this sweet bubble you've pulled you both into, "so it's just my irresistible charm that's making you so clingy tonight, hm?"

another beat passes.

and just when he thinks he might have to do with another one of your indistinct sounds for an answer, you speak. to be more precise, whine and grumble, everything so sweet in your adorable voice.

"it's not me being clingy, 'toru— it's the baby— the baby is making me so clingy. making me feel as if i can't live even for one second without squishing you like thisss!!!"

the first reaction your tightening grasp brings out is the wind getting knocked out of his lungs— the second reaction being all that oxygen, nitrogen and carbon dioxide being replaced by a feeling so fierce and so tender— the strongest thinks his knees would have buckled under its weight had he not been lying down but standing—

not that he really minds that, though.

for you, he's always on his knees. whether you ask it of him or not. the only light in this world he is willing to bow his eyes before.

it takes him not too much effort but gojo makes a point of struggling whilst he shifts in your hold. and grins when he finally comes face-to-face with you, drinking in the way your brows are puckered and lips a little parted in an incredulous expression.

his grin simmers down however, when his six eyes notice the spark in your tummy. so tiny. so blinding. so priceless— to him and you both— he knows this, surer than he is of the scars on his palms.

thumbing the hem of your t-shirt, he hums, dragging his eyes back to be drowned in yours, "how many weeks along are you, wifey?"

"satoru," you start, voice turning sharper and just as skeptical as your face was, still is— only to be shushed by a finger to your lips. the man addressed feels his heart skip a beat at your confused big scowl— it's got to be a crime to be as cute as you— really!!!

he pinches your cheek lightly.

"it isn't like i don't remember that, cookie. i just wanted you to say it— c'mon, tell me quickly!" he presses, noting then utilising the moment your face begins to lose its cynical hue over his words.

the scowl lingers there however, twisting your delectably pretty lips—

"nine weeks," you say, hooking a leg over his waist to pull him closer. can he be any closer to you, though? your answer is always a yes, he knows you well enough to know this.

"thirty-one weeks more before we meet our baby."

it's not exactly thirty-one weeks; it's thirty weeks and five days before either of you can meet the baby, but gojo decides not to point out the error. you always hate it when he points out your tiny errors and make a point of snarking about it every time he opens his mouth to speak a word next— the man is wary not to upset his wife, yes, thank you very much.

he offers a sage "hm" in response, one he observes you accept slowly. the scowl lifts itself into a curve so fond— gojo thinks once before he vaults his next query your way. not wanting to see that smile vanish in front of him—

the ask won't cause anything so. but he can never be too sure. he has read too many books and articles to not grasp how fragile pregnancy hormones can make one be.

he tucks a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear.

fingers tarrying there when he sees you lean into his touch— not akin a moth to a bright flame, no. he can never hurt you. not even for once in his wildest dreams—

but how the north pole of a magnet hurries towards the south pole of another magnet. so different in their nature, a perfect pair of opposite crafted by the nature— maybe that's why nothing can ever stop them from rushing to each other once they're proximated, the lines of their mutual attraction existing even when thousands of miles apart.

just like you and him.

contrasting, complementing, completing each other every instant, in every facet of life.

he lets his fingers dance through the tangles in your hair, unravelling the knots in there. that pleased little hum of yours reaches him once again.

stowing the sound away, later to be placed on a pedestal in an ornate glass case as the most valuable praise ever given to him for his effort, he runs a gentle hand, nails scratching your scalp carefully.

"and at nine weeks old, just how big might our baby be?"

"i think there is a chart comparing our baby's size to fruits..." syllables unhurried and a pinch mumbled, you press your heel to draw him in a little more. "i did not really read that too attentively— oh. but. yeah!" a grin forms on your features, sleepy still twinkling in excitement.

"shoko sent me a link to this website earlier today— any ideas, 'toru, what it might be about?"

gojo does have an idea. he has a very, very good idea.

but he chooses not to say that aloud. you look so extremely adorable when you are being this excited. he would hate nothing more than to see your amped up self getting interrupted by him.

he shakes his head. your grin brightens. eyes crinkling with a glint, he can tell even without looking, is knowing.

the tips of your fingers caress his bare back, softer than a breath. "it's about when our baby forms which organs— our baby's eyes are being formed now!!! isn't that too cute, 'toru?"

"it is, cookie," he hums without any hesitation, six eyes activating one more time to zero in on that teeny-tiny spark. then deactivating when he looks back up to your sleepy eyes. a terribly tickled, equally wicked glimmer creeps into his grin. "so our baby is just like a tiny ball of cells with two big blue eyes, huh? they must look so scary, heh— ouch!"

your pinch did not really pain him, but gojo does his best to mimic an awfully wounded puppy, sogging wet from the rain and waiting at the doorstep with his moving blue eyes— it takes less than three seconds before you let go of your glare with a sigh.

you massaging the sore spot on his arm, your husband watches you give yet another sigh.

"first of all, there's no guarantee our baby will have your eye color and not mine, 'toru," you explain, pinning him under your drowsy stare, "it is very difficult to predict that for sure— and secondly: i'll punch you if you ever call our baby scary— sure, they don't really look like a human in this moment, but they'll slowly get there in forty weeks— as per the website, their face, hands and feet are forming in the ninth—"

"okay, alright!! i get your point, my insanely smart, insanely beautiful, insanely sexy wife," gojo cuts in, smiling while warning bells chime in his head at the faintest gloss in your eyes—

but maybe they weren't noisy enough. that is why he doesn't bite his tongue, rather continuing, "but you weren't actually blaming our poor human-ey baby for your clinginess, were you? it's not like they have a telepathic communication set up with you— hell, maybe they haven't even started forming their brain!"

"the baby's brain starts forming by the fifth week, satoru," your quiet reply reaches him exactly when he gets his last giggle out. the moist sheen in your eyes grows more prominent.

and his insides begin to twist—

one-third helpless. two-thirds contrite.

you don't stop talking, tone lower than he has heard you use in nearly forever, "and you better not comment on my bond with our baby— i'll punch you twice if you—"

"i wasn't doing that and i promise to never make you feel that way, my cutie-pie cookie," gojo interrupts, voice far gentler than earlier, just as low as yours, "but feel free to throw me out the house if i ever do that, even accidentally. okay?"

you're not okay.

you never are, when it comes to you being actually harsh to him, even when he's the one asking you to be— shakespeare once called love to be blind— your husband doesn't think you're blind, however. it is your well-contemplated decision to see his mistakes and see each of them as excusable, perfectly pardonable, no matter how silly or serious the world might regard them to be—

you make a noise. somewhat annoyed. unhappy too, yeah. before you push your face into the crook of his neck, nose nuzzling into the flesh there.

you would have bitten him by now. but he reckons you might be a bit too tired for all that. you couldn't even finish your dinner before facing the urge to throw up tonight, yet again.

feeling sorry, almost, gojo resumes his ministrations to your hair, half because you need to fall asleep now; the hands on the clock are close to striking midnight. the other half because he just loves playing with your hair— only to still when you suddenly pull your head back.

brows furrowed as you peer at him, eyes big and earnest.

"you don't really mind when i hug you like this, do you, 'toru?"

"no, cookie!! of course not!!" the man wastes not even a breath before he rushes to explain— because seriously, what!??

sure, he wasn't the first one to fall between you two. but ever since he did fall, he has never not expressed how every second away from you, every fraction of an instant away from you, causes him pain.

and yeah, he might have been a tad too dramatic whilst doing so, but you've always been so good at reading him— then why on earth can't you read him now? why don't you read, he loves it when you seek him out, he loves you more than anyone and anything else??

"good," your satisfied little chirp gives him a light shove away from his frantic thoughts. something tells him he should be put on alert by the way your lips curve into a smug smile next.

but gojo finds himself uncaring. just immensely relieved as he trails his fingers from the back of your head to your chin. thumb reaching out to brush the corner of your infectious smile. you continue.

"but even if you did mind, sorry not sorry— you were the one who put the ring on my finger, so you have to deal with everything i'm, mister!! no refunds nor complaints can be filed here, gojo-san~"

and neither refunds nor complaints he wishes to file, satoru muses to himself as he cups your cheek in one hand. bending down to steal the taste of your beam, your tease, your love for him on his tongue—

not when he has received the world in exchange for letting go of that poor splintered mess of a heart, he used to call his, but is now yours.

and will always stay yours—

"hey 'toru— what will you do if i chomp on your fingers right now, like really hard? will you yell? or will you be the freak that you're and enjoy it, huh?"

gojo pauses.

and wonders.

is there any binding vow one can make to secure oneself to another in every lifetime, for all eternity?

he hopes there is.

your husband really, seriously hopes there is—

'cause no way in heaven, earth or hell, does gojo satoru want to let go of you— and he will not let go of you.

this idea was ROTTING in my brain for ages, but wht gave me the spark– the boost to write this was the wonderful sukuna fic written by ari @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat ❤️❤️❤️ i seriously love u & ur writings sm, babes 🥹🥹 everyone pls go check their masterlist out. it's studded w diamonds and pearls 😌😌🥰

and this is also for my sweet & sour bestie mimi @avatarofstars 🤭🤭— u 🤝 me in being clingy af towards our fictional hubbies 😂😂🥰

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

[skmhlml]

Omg

It's so cute, it's so stinking cute.

I'm not the same anon but can I PLEASE ask more Burning Spice x Sweetheart! Wife! Reader please. I respectfully don't care what it is, I just want MORE

Burning Spice Cookie x Sweetheart!Wife!Reader

🔥 Centuries of Flame, and Yet You Stay Burning Spice Cookie has been alive for ages now — and the world has changed a thousand times over. Kingdoms have risen and crumbled to ash, some even by his own hand.

🔥 But you? You’re his constant. Sweet, gentle, steady. You have always looked at him with the same eyes, the same warmth, the same calm that tames the inferno inside him — even when that inferno no longer tames itself.

🔥 He’s Not Who He Used to Be. Once, he was a protector. A beast who roared for the sake of justice, who fought for balance. Now? He destroys for thrill. He carves through history with molten claws, no longer bound by codes or alliances.

🔥 And yet, when you whisper his name, it echoes in a corner of his mind that remembers softness. You’re the one anchor to a version of him he thought long dead.

🔥 “You’ve changed.”/“But you haven’t.” You’ve told him this more than once— not in anger, but in sadness. You don’t beg him to stop, because you know what he is now. But the pain is visible in your eyes when he comes back soaked in the smoke of another culture razed. And he hates it. Not your disappointment— but the fact that he’s no longer the version of himself you once loved. The frightening part? He doesn’t even want to be that version anymore. But he does want you.

🔥 For all his violence, all his reckless abandon… he’s terrifyingly delicate with you. Your cheek, your hands, your lips— he touches you as if you’ll vanish. Like a single breath might scatter your sugar-dusted soul into the wind. And every time you smile at him, part of him aches. You’re still sweet. Still pure. Still his— even when he doesn’t deserve you.

🔥 He Burns Everything Except You. He’s reduced entire cities to ash with a wave of his claws. But he’s never laid waste to your garden. Your favorite bench is untouched. Even when he scorches the earth around your home during his rampages, he circles you like a starved wolf refusing to harm the moon it howls at.

🔥 “You should’ve left me behind centuries ago.” Sometimes he says this to you in the dark, arms wrapped around your waist, his breath hot against your neck. But you always respond the same way:

🔥 “You might be fire now, but I remember when you were light.” And that… that hurts more than any blade could.

🔥 The Beast Comes Home…After every scorched battlefield, every reckless assault, he still returns. Not to repent. Not to change. But to see you. Your presence soothes his molten veins. He doesn’t sleep well unless your head rests against his chest and your hands are tangled with his.

🔥 You Know Him Better Than He Knows Himself. You know when he’s slipping deeper into madness. You know when the thrill becomes too much, when his own skin feels unbearable from the burn within. And only you can bring him back — soft words, warm tea, a hand pressed over the center of his chest until he stops growling and starts breathing.

🔥You’re His Ritual. His Worship. His Constant. He may worship destruction now, but in his heart, the only altar that has never cracked is the one where he placed you. You’re not just his wife — you’re a memory of a world that was worth protecting. Even if he burns everything else, he will never touch what is yours.

[xenteaart]

you are not difficult

pairing: chan x reader (i wrote it with idol!chan or producer!chan in mind, but it can fit any au, really) word count: no idea but it's short genre/warnings: er, angst, hurt/comfort, implied suffering w depression, implied history of SH. also implied shitty ex. so PLS keep that in mind before you read. also, it's all good in the end. author's note: it's a self comfort thing y'all but i hope you like it too.

it was yet another night where everything felt too much and you kinda hated yourself for it. bad day, maybe some hormonal imbalance due to a certain time in your cycle, history of mental illness — it's hard to put a finger on the exact cause. you're sick of trying, anyways.

chris was, of course, right there for you, and as you were falling apart in his arms, your entire soul was aching so bad that it made you want to crawl out of your own skin. it's usually like that, everywhere in your body like some sort of extreme inflammation, except physically you're perfectly fine.

"'m sorry…" you blurt out somewhere between your sobs and cries, still unable to hold eye contact with him.

"baby, you have nothing to be sorry for," chan shakes his head and keeps rubbing circles into your back, just between the shoulder blades where the ache feels the most excruciating.

"kiss me?" you squeak. almost pathetic, honestly, but it's always been your way of checking, whether he still wants you. whether he still loves you and desires you, even at your lowest, even with your mascara all smudged over your cheeks, eyes puffy and red, lips slightly irritated and swollen. even when there's a gaping black hole where the heart is supposed to be.

chris doesn't even question it, really. he simply leans in and gives you a long sweet kiss full of both a partner's tenderness and a lover's lust, so, so willing to do whatever it takes to calm the thunderstorm inside your mind and ease your struggle.

the kiss doesn't really satisfy you, the feeling is still there.

"sorry," you whisper again as you breathe out into chan's lips but the intimate contact doesn't last long. chris frowns and makes some distance between you two to look into your eyes.

"why? baby, why do you keep apologizing?" he sounds gentle but still slightly frustrated.

"i dunno? cos 'm difficult? for bein' difficult?"

there's a silence as he blinks a few times, processing and putting two and two together.

"just because it was difficult for them to love you and take care of you, doesn’t make you difficult. you are not difficult. like, at all," he puts on his serious tone, the one he uses for you when you can't see the obvious and he has to remind you.

you don't really know what to say to that, so you keep playing with the tissue paper in your hands, ripping it apart piece by piece just to keep yourself busy and focused on something other than the burning ache in your chest.

"dealing with mental health isn't easy, that one is true, baby, but it's so easy to love you. you are easy to love. even now, looking so small and in pain but it's still you, and my duty as your boyfriend is to take care of you when you can't. and, hell, you're one of the most capable people i know, so please just let me hold your hand through it once in a while, yeah?" chan speaks slowly and quietly, as if to make every single word sink in, tenderly forcing it into your stupid lovely brain that refuses to cooperate sometimes.

chris feels safe. he feels like lighting up a cookie scented candle after a long day at work. he's the feeling of the ocean timidly licking at your feet and burying them deeper into warm wet sand. chris is the first sip of coffee in the morning and the cold side of the pillow at night. he's everything worth living and trying for.

"thank you," is the only thing you manage to say, but in the way you lean back into his embrace he's able to read a lot more.

"do you want a nice mug o' hot chocolate and some fairy bread, baby?"

this question makes you hiccup and sob once again. you nod and nuzzle closer into the crook of his neck.

[cherriibombfics]

Wind archer cookie x reader who constantly gets lost in the forest ! He always has to guide them back to the original path since they just casually wander around and disappear for hours at a time. (Readers personality could be the opposites of wind archer. Talkative, bubbly, extroverted blah blah blah.)

Sorry for asking for too much !

"ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴡꜱ"

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1149

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ᴀ/ɴ: ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴜɴ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀꜱᴋ <3

ᴡɪɴᴅ ᴀʀᴄʜᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

As the wind passed through the forest trees, howling in warning, you’re only further reminded of just how lost you were. The light of the moon above cuts past the leaves, leaving you with only a few dots of light illuminating the path. You’d never strayed far from your home before, scared of what may be waiting for you within the forest. Your cake hound, however, had no such fear, fleeing into the woods when he discovered the front door was unlocked. Many cookies traveled to the forest’s edges but never entered. You didn't know much of the legends, and all of them seemed to contradict one another, but they all spoke against traversing into the woods, lest you wish never to be seen again.

The wind grew relentless, shaking the tall trees above you, growing harsher by the minute. But you didn't falter, you couldn't, not with the knowledge that your dear pet was left alone hanging over your head like the blade of a guillotine. You pulled the hood of your cloak down further and continued your journey before you paused.

Where was the path? You felt leaves crunching underneath your feet, replacing the bricks that were there before. You’d gone so deep into the forest that you couldn't even see your home, or any building for that matter. You were completely alone.

You heard a twig crack in the distance, another cookie? But upon further inspection, you noticed it was only a small bird. You stood there in disappointment as you watched it get startled and fly away.

That is until you heard a bark.

You turn around to see your precious hound running towards you. You were excited to have him in your arms again, barking with as much excitement as you had, that you didn't notice the figure watching you in the distance.

“He’s your friend?” You looked towards the source of the voice, a cookie shrouded in darkness, except for the shining emerald on his forehead. A scarf covered his mouth, its ends flowing in the wind. “You should be more careful, the forest is no place for those corrupted by darkness.”

“Excuse me?” You paused for a moment. “Are you talking about him? He’s just a cake hound, how could you think this face could be one of evil.” You held your pet face up to the figure, his eyes shining with innocence as though to prove your point.

“I see,” He paused, still slightly tensed by your hound’s presence. You were used to it at this point, most people couldn't understand why you’d take in one of her creations, but you didn't care. “Still, you should be more careful.”

“I won't let him out of my sight again, I promise you.” You looked up at the cookie once more. “Who are you exactly? I’ve never heard of any cookie willing to enter here.”

“I’m the protector of the forest, it’s my duty to prevent trespassers from entering.” He stared down at you, his gaze hardening slightly. “Including you.”

“I didn't mean to trespass!” You pleaded and, sensing your distress, your hound growled at him. “I just came to get him back, honest!” You backed away slightly.

“I won't bring harm to you, since you have pure intentions. But please, leave this land and don't return.”

Before you could say anything else the cookie before you disappeared into the wind, as though he was never there at all. You held your dear friend in your arms, oblivious to him trying to get your attention. Because you could've sworn he blushed for a moment before vanishing.

—

“Oh, Wind Archer Cookie!” You walked down the path again, with your hound close behind you on a leash. You were grateful you got such a good deal on it, the other ones were too itchy for him. You could feel the leaves crunching under your feet, there were so many on the ground that you could barely see where the path was. You pulled your scarf just slightly over your face as a bit of wind went into your face, making the autumn leaves around you swirl and dance in the air. He was here. “There you are, I was worried you weren’t going to show up.”

“I’m never too far you know,” You couldn’t see his whole face but you could tell he was smiling. “You got him a new leash?”

“Yeah, the other one was too itchy for him. A traveling merchant let me get a good deal on it.” Your cake hound barked in agreement, “He was very excited to see what you thought of it.”

“It suits him.” Wind Archer came close and placed a hand on his head, “It’s good you got him a leash at all. He’s too adventurous for his own good. You both have that in common.”

“If I wasn’t adventurous I never would have met you. And,” You pulled out a small bag from your pocket, “I’d never be able to give you this.” You handed the bag to him and watched as he carefully opened it.

“What is this?” He held a box in his hands.

“It’s a lunch box, I put it together for you since I’ve never seen you eat anything.”

“You do realize I don’t need to eat right?”

“Just because you don’t need to eat something doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try it. Besides, my cooking isn't terrible, just promise me you’ll try it alright?” You looked up at him, hopeful.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t try it. I trust you wouldn’t poison me.” He placed the box in the bag he had with him. He made it a habit because you always brought him something. You insisted upon it, even though he didn’t understand why. “Thank you.”

“No problem, it’s the least I could do since you help me find my way home all the time.”

“You do realize you’re off the path again, right?”

You stopped for a second, looking down at your feet and realizing that in fact, you had stumbled off the path some time ago. The leaves had completely covered the path, so much so that you hadn’t noticed at all.

“How didn’t I notice? It’s almost nightfall, I'm so stupid.” You were about to hit your hand against your face before another one caught it.

“You’re not stupid. A bit oblivious, sure, but not stupid. I’ll help you get back home, consider it a thank you for the gift.”

“You don’t have to, you know.”

“I don’t mind being your guide. I’m the protector of the forest and its inhabitants, including you.” He kept his hold on your hand and he walked you through the forest, your hound walking not too far behind.

No matter how many times you strayed off the path, he’d always help you find your way home. As long as the wind blows.

[shepherds-of-haven]

The Shepherds are having a bake sale! What kind of baked goods are they bringing, and how successful are they at selling?

Blade: he baked "protein bars" and they're just like bricks of smushed granola or nuts or whatever he could get away with grinding up and putting in there. No one would buy these except dedicated fans wanting to impress him lol

Trouble: he made bread!! Just loaves of plain bread. He didn't know how to do it before and learned just for this bake sale and they're actually pretty decent! They'd sell fairly well for a bake sale, no one's writing home about how he's a master baker, but they'll do for your week's groceries!

Tallys: she'd also probably do bread as well, but glazed Elvish braided loaves, some with sweet fillings like nuts and cinnamon and fruit pastes, and some with savory fillings like nutty cheese and herbs! These would be a best-seller!

Shery: she'd make sooo many things: plates of soft amaretto cookies, lemon squares, brownies, cupcakes, big cakes, macarons!!! Basically anything she could feasibly bake in a short amount of time, she'd do it lol! And they'd be the talk of the whole bake sale, she'd probably single-handedly carry the whole sale alone!!!

Riel: he'll... he'll buy some petits fours from some other bakery and sell them at a small profit margin 😭

Chase: he'll be Shery's frontman to help her sell her goods lmao, but I highly doubt he's going to bring anything 😂 (and if he does, I don't know if enough people trust him to buy)

Red: he'd probably put his mind to it and make something simple like bread or gingerbread cookies or something like that! Something unfussy, but they'd taste pretty good! They'd sell about the same as Trouble's stuff!

Ayla: she'd try to make scones and they'd be hard as rocks! Trouble and Chase would call them "Ayla's rockcakes" and probably use them to pelt each other with (with her permission, obviously) and she'd laugh and probably sell them as like the perfect non-winter snowball or something... basically not fit for consumption but more like a novelty or a toy!

Briony: she tried to make cookies, which she was told were easier to make then cakes! She'd try to make them all cute and aesthetic like Shery's, but they'd be a little misshapen and amateur and a bit craggy... She'd sell enough to make her happy, but a lot of it would be because people like and pity her LOL, they'd probably promptly donate what they bought to like a less fortunate neighbor or an undiscerning kid or something!

Lavinet: ...she'd try. poor girl has no frame of reference when it comes to working in the kitchen--surely a flan is the same difficulty level as a cake, no?--so she'd probably end up inadvertently picking something extremely complex because she always thought it looked simple, like a mirror glazed cake or eclairs or something like that, and end up with a horrible claggy gloopy mess! And then she'd cry (privately) and then have a stand selling her fashionable cast-offs or something instead!

Halek: he'd probably be the pie guy because it'd allow him to experiment with a ton of different fillings! Savory meat pies, pot pies, shepherds' pies (ha ha), but also fancy fruit pies, rose apple tarts, maybe even quiches, that sort of thing! He'd be the other best-seller alongside Shery!

Thanks for the fun question!

[pomefioredove]

hello!! may I please have a chocolate cookie, #1, with sprinkles and a candy cane?

Hello! Can I have a chocolate cookie #1 with candy cane and whipped cream please 😚

once again rolling two prompts into one because my ideas for both were too similar :P

order #1, chocolate with sprinkles, candy cane, whipped cream

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ the judge and the peasant

summary: a conversation tropes: friends to lovers, royalty au (kinda), hurt/comfort characters: rollo additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is not yuu, post-college AU, not proofread and long

"Royal" was a generous title.

His official one was Minister of Justice, the judge, a paragon of peace for the people of the City of Flowers, which he presided over with the honor that came to be expected of him- the City had had a terribly troubled relationship with that trepid thing, peace, the trickster goddess of respite. The people would welcome whatever relief from war and plague they could get; if that be ten years, five, one, or the exact time Rollo Flamme had been Minister.

He was a calm, destitute man, caught and beheld only by criminals awaiting sentence behind the barred doors of the Palace of Justice, the historic court of Fleur City, except on odd days where the Judge could be seen wandering through the high walls of the palace, at dusk or dawn, watching over the city he held so dear. And on the few festival days in the calendar year, though the talk of the town was that he took no pleasure in rubbing elbows with the peasantry.

With the distinct exception of you, though that was a story you didn't dare to tell.

It would ruin the good Minister's reputation.

Moreover, this week, he had been made discernable by the tenure of the King, who asked for him day and night for moral and menial judgments alike. One could tell, from the displeased look on Minister Flamme's often forlorn face, that he wanted nothing more than to return to his room in the Palace of Justice, but his duty demanded he bow to a higher power, and so there he was- bitterly frowning behind the soft fabric of his handkerchief on the fourth or fifth day of festivities (though it had felt more like fifty to him and naught but minutes to the stumbling, slurring peasantry). Standing at the side of the King, one hand pressed tightly over his pout, the other at his hip. He looked almost ghostly in the sunlight, glowing white and most certainly uncomfortably so.

The King, happy-faced and full of Fleur City's finest wines, made a crude comment about a dancer; you could tell it was so, even from your far corner of the crowd, from the twitch in Minister Flamme's lip, an advertisement of disgust.

...Which he just as soon tucked in a dark, dusty closet in his mind and murmured some dithering words of agreement. It was unlike the Minister to lie; but, again, his duty demanded it.

Honesty was only second to honor for men like him.

The King asked for one more drink, and then made it two, and then Minister Flamme excused himself to "see to the arrangements of tonight's feast" (the fourth or fifth of many), which you could read on his lips, or perhaps on his face, which was choleric. You excused yourself from the festive chaos as if it were also a king that which held honor over your head like the blade of a knighting sword.

You followed Flamme and his frown, not to the King's hotel, but to the two bell towers that rose over the city like the welcoming arms of a mother; it was a rather ostentatious building to bid farewell to the sounds and sour smells of the festival in, but it was quiet, and perhaps more suited the Minister's temperament than the Palace is. At least today.

Curiously, he spent not a moment in reverence; he walked past the statues and paintings and windows taller than ten men standing on each other's shoulders as if they were spoiled meat strung up in the marketplace on a warm summer day, that of which the city had had more than its fair share of in the current year. The candle flames flickered and flitted and tried to flee their wicks and follow the Minister as he walked through them, parting the fire as if it were the sea. You almost felt sorry for the little flames, each catching the wind from Flamme's woolen robes and fighting their wicks to follow it onto his body; you didn't have wax to weld your feet to the tiled floor, and thus you followed on their fiery behalf.

He ascended flight of stair after stair, spiral and straight, wooden and stone, each of his footsteps as light as air and as fleeting as the white light of afternoon, which was falling into the red of early evening.

You could not tell if he knew you were behind him or not; if he did, he cared not for it. You would have sworn he turned over his shoulder once, and then you were sure you had been caught; but he kept pace up into the bell tower without looking behind him again. And that was the north, not the south; and thus waiting for you at the precipice of these steps was not the Bell, but many others, small and big, bronzed and brassy, some shining with the setting sun and some dull and darkened with dust and time. It was a breathtaking sight, even without the magical artifact Fleur City so revered. You might have even felt a little pity for them, the bells that belonged only to the tower, one amongst many. Each had a name and a history of its own, and yet no breathing thing would know it, because they were only bells. Not magic.

Minister Flamme had walked to the furthest end of the tower and looked over the festival, winding down after a long day of drinking and dancing and other things he seemed to hold no sympathy and spare no coins for. You stay by the stairs, one foot on the first step down.

"They'll miss you, you know," you say.

Minister Flamme- Rollo- does not flinch at the sudden noise, the unpleasant sound of a person. He only looks over the sharp shoulder of his robe, his eyes lowered. "See how they rejoice,"

An invitation to accompany him on the ledge. You linger by the steps, the broken, splintered boards, before you feign blissful ignorance and stand at his side. He glances at you.

"Not even the King has noticed. He speaks to the Marquis in the same manner. Demanding, ungrateful,"

You can't seem to locate the Marquis that Rollo is scowling at, but it doesn't matter. "Does he?"

"I am told by the people," Rollo grumbles. "That I am excellent."

"That you are," you agree, knowing not what else to say.

"But see the Marquis. See the King. See how none notice my presence or my absence. Can my work truly mean anything if it is only seen by those whom I punish?"

"It's felt," you argue.

"And how?" he narrows his eyes at you. "They live by my service, and yet I receive no gratitude in return but- this indulgence. This consumption. And they keep their distance, for what am I if not a wolf dressed in courtly clothes?"

He gestures to the howling, laughing, drunken crowd. You blink back at him.

"What do you do it for, then?"

"It is my duty," he murmurs. "The only thing worse than doing it is not doing it- I fear, sometimes, that if I am not working, something monstrous will claw out of my chest, or perhaps up my throat. The work feeds my mind, it keeps me well. And yet..."

He drums his fingers on the fractured wood, and then looks away once more.

"I should not be saying this to you,"

Annoyance flashes across your face, whether you mean it to or not.

"Why not?"

Rollo scowls. "If anyone truly knew of the selfish things I did..."

"You're not capable of being selfish,"

"I'm capable of far more than you know," he snaps, and you look away.

His fingers fall flat on the low wooden wall of the tower.

"...I should not have troubled your mind with my thoughts. You surely have enough to worry about,"

"It's fine," you say. "I only don't understand."

"If only you did," he sighs, walking away from the ledge of the bell tower. "If only you did. You would not be so bold as to address me as an equal."

You follow him, deeper into the bell tower, past the worldly wooden walls and the bells as big as storybook beasts.

"What you do is important, isn't it?"

"Ah, but anyone could do it," he says, dryly. "It's only signing papers."

"Not everyone can do that,"

He glares at you again, and then returns to running his hand against the body of the bells.

"But everyone certainly tries, don't they?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Who-"

"It's none of your concern," he snaps. "-What happens in the Palace. I cannot be so weak as to wear my heart on my sleeve to the public."

That handkerchief. It was the one you had taken from his pocket and teased him with, when you met whilst attending the same college you stood in now, some years ago...

His footsteps falter by a row of matching bells, though he regards them as if he knows each by name.

"...You're tired, then," you ask, though it's more of a statement. "You're tired of your job?"

"I... enjoy the work. It is the people I cannot stomach, though they are what I am fed, I cannot live without their petty crimes and magical indulgences. There must always be men to judge, wicked a sin as it is,"

"Then... you're just... tired?"

Rollo closes his eyes, his hand still on the curve of the bell.

"...I suppose that's it, yes,"

You frown, but before you can even breathe, he follows.

"...You must think me selfish. Here you are, dressed in rags, and yet I complain of wickedness, as if that word holds any meaning to someone like you,"

You sit on the splintered floor, finding comfort in the soft wood. The sun is setting somewhere beyond the bell tower, beckoning forth a sky of blues, fiery reds and oranges, pink, purple, and the gold of the fleeting day.

"I don't think you're selfish," you say. "I think you're a person."

Rollo's eyes open, and though he tries to put up a face of indifference, a flicker of feeling comes through.

"...As are you," he says, sitting at your side. "A good one, at that."

That is, maybe, the closest you'll ever come to a compliment from the man. Minister Flamme. Rollo. You gently nudge him with your elbow.

"And you. A good one,"

He does not respond to that, though you know he wants to deny it.

Instead, Rollo looks ahead, into the deep purple sky of night, into the path that lies ahead in the dark spaces between the stars.

[eggcompany]

Jayvik except

Jayce was doing great. He was a senior, he was graduating in three weeks, he had won trophies at the national science competition, he’d gotten into his top college, and he was going on an in depth tour. His dreams were coming true in front of him. He could make a better life for his mom, he could better thousands of lives with his inventions, and the campus had the best of the best.

Jayce was doing great. Was being the key word.

Because then he met the assistant to the biopharmacutical engineering professor. And his life fell apart. Viktor was always dressed to the nines, witty, with a tongue that cut deeper than a blade. Eyes like razor blades as he found every single flaw in everything Jayce did, correcting equations so fast Jayce couldn’t believe he’d fucked them up in the first place, and he was so-

“Mister Talis do you have an issue? If you must stare please make it at the board at least.” Viktor quipped in the middle of a silent lab. Jayce jumped back, it had only been half a semester. But he was in trouble. He turned red as people snickered around him, opening his lab report to act like he’d been thinking.

It didn’t work.

It only took three more weeks before Viktor called Jayce into his small side office, really the waiting room to the professors office with a small desk in it. Jayce felt like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar.

He doesn’t remember when the frustrated/hate/worshipping fucking turned into dates and day sex turned into partners and love making. When he graduated it was with a ring on his finger and a mother cooing over her new son.

Jayce was doing great. But Jayce and Viktor? They were doing so much better.

[poweredbycoffee]

Fallen Angel

Genre: fluff

Pairing: angel!Yunho x fem!reader

Summary: Your guardian angel Yunho, who’s been watching over you for a year, falls to Earth having already fallen for you. TW one mention each of blood, injury

“I hate to say it, but…did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

“It ripped out my wings, so yes, it did hurt.”

You watched in disbelief as a golden light enveloped the body of the man lying on his stomach on your living room rug, making him inhale sharply.

“I’m calling 911. You need help!”

He shook his head. “The last thing I need is someone else finding out I’m here. I’ll be fine.”

“I can see a bone sticking out! You call that fine?” With shaking hands you reached for your phone, only to have his fingers envelop yours to pry it away until it fell with a soft thud on the couch behind you. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t wished for you this never would have happened.”

“If you hadn’t wished for me I’d still be pushing paper in the mail room waiting for someone to need me.” He gave you a lopsided smile, sat up, then glanced over his shoulder. “I’ve healed. You can see for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“How in the—“

You fell silent at the sight of him unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it halfway off to reveal the truth. What blood had covered him had disappeared in the fading light, leaving little evidence other than the white lines outlining his shoulder blades.

“I suppose there’s no reason to be embarrassed. I feel like I’ve known you too long to be shy.”

Your face grew hot and you forced yourself to look away, more for self-preservation than preserving his modesty. Good to know we went from hellos to half naked in less than a year. Thanks for the heads up.

“What’s wrong? Should I put it back on?”

“Yes…or no! I mean, whatever’s comfortable,” you stammered. “Sorry, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that there’s a divine presence in my apartment that I apparently summoned with pennies and a fortune cookie.”

He laughed and stood up before shrugging the shirt back on and buttoning it closed. “Me? Oh no, no, those were training wings. I haven’t achieved rank yet. There’s nothing divine about sorting mail Up There. The paper cuts are brutal.”

“Is that what you call Heaven?”

“Yes. To you it’s Earth. To us this is Down Below.” Pulling an ID card from his pocket, he held it out to you. “That’s me. Jeong Yunho, mail room intern, at your service.”

You smiled, amused at his sudden formality after such a dramatic entrance. “But again, I never wrote a letter. I mostly only prayed before exams and when my grandmother made me go to church with her at Christmas. How did you know where to find me?”

“The wishes you made were still a type of mail. Voice mail. They still must be replied to, except they take much longer to transcribe and no one else wants to handle them because there are so many. It gets assigned to the interns all the time.” Yunho rolled his eyes. “It’s a lot of the same requests…or they were until I heard you.”

Give me some kind of sign that someone cares.

“From inside a Chinese restaurant that looks the same as it did before I was born.”

Yunho grinned. “I like that place. It’s peaceful. Your friends don’t know what they’re missing.”

Your friends, who had long since stopped accompanying you for mediocre fried rice in a mall so dead you might have been single-handedly paying the rent, had dismissed the place as creepy and always seemed to have other plans when you’d bring it up. You were forced to go alone after that, anxiously opening the fortune cookie at the end of each meal to see if it held another sliver of intelligence about who was telling you exactly what you hoped to hear.

It’s all right. I’ve got you.

It wasn’t long after the weirdly specific fortunes that you decided to see if tossing a penny in the mall fountain worked the same way. “Either I’m getting high off the smell of chlorine or someone’s watching. At least this costs less.”

Whoever you are, if you can hear me I need help passing my chemistry final. Amen, I guess.

A week later, having stumbled across Reddit threads that explained the material better than your professor, you’d managed a 90.

“They all think I’ve lost my mind believing in…you.”

It was Yunho’s turn to blush. “Fate is a much more powerful force than I am, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You made me feel less alone. That’s a big enough deal, isn’t it?”

“And you did the same for me. Every day until I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to see you, tell you my name, tell you that…” His trembling voice trailed off. “Never mind. I’d only scare you away.”

“Tell me what?”

He took a step toward you, lacing his fingers between yours to hold both your hands. “I love you. I don’t know how I can love someone I’ve only seen from the stars, but my heart keeps telling me I have to try.”

Your heart raced at his gentle touch and you looked up at the ceiling before meeting his eyes. “You were worried about someone finding you here and now you tell me you love me like I can just let you go at the end of the day. That’s not how this works, Yunho. When it takes this long to find someone you should never want to let them out of your sight.”

“I didn’t. I won’t. I used to fall asleep at my desk waiting for you to fall asleep first so I could watch over you.” He bit his lip, unsure of how to convince you of his good intentions. “Every night for the past year. I know you haven’t seen me, but at least let me believe you felt me at your side.”

You blinked and felt tears sliding down your cheeks that he quickly moved to brush away with his thumb. “All this time?”

“And all the time to come. If you’ll have me, that is.”

“How does that work, having an angel for a boyfriend?”

Yunho flashed a grin that made you sigh more audibly than you meant to, which only made his smile widen. “Oh, the same as any long distance relationship except I get to make sure your roommate’s brother finally stops asking you out after you’ve told him no five times.”

“You saw that?”

“If he can’t respect your boundaries he doesn’t deserve to speak to you. I’ll have to visit the next time he’s around.” For a moment his eyes lost their smile, replaced with a cold resolve. “He won’t bother you anymore.”

Against your usual judgement, the thought of him defending your honor against a slimy frat boy was rather appealing. “You’re not going to fall through the ceiling again, are you?”

“No. I’ll borrow a car and pick you up outside his apartment so he knows you’re not alone.”

“A date…”

“Next time I’ll ask someone to cover my shift, I promise.”

“What did you do this time?”

He laughed. “I might or might not have called in sick.”

“Yunho!”

“I had all the classic symptoms: couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t wait to see you. I was down for the count!”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute. When will I see you again?”

“Next Friday.” His hands came to rest on either side of your hips and he pulled you toward him, wrapping you in his arms. “Falling from heaven certainly hurts, but falling for you never has.”

[7s3ven]

POPULAR. luke (pjo)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Y/N is tired of being bullied her whole life so she makes a deal with Luke. As long as she does his bidding, he’ll make her popular.

“Beggin' on her knees to be popular. That's her dream, to be popular. Kill anyone to be popular, sell her soul to be popular.”

Warnings : toxic! luke + y/n (but they’re lowkey iconic together), gore, death, manipulation if you squint, dark themes, y/n + luke are both pretty messed up, pretty gruesome near the end, not proof read

A/N : Me when I wanna write toxic one shots to express my feelings but I've been in toxic relationships and writing fluff is how I comfort myself :c

—

Years ago, the young Y/N would’ve scoffed in her face. Maybe even spat at her if she was feeling bratty enough. Why make a deal with Luke? It was like selling your soul to the devil.

Camp Half-Blood loved Luke, adored him even. But under all that courage and glory was a monster. Y/N had seen it first hand when he turned his head for a split second during a duel, his eyes going dark and his lips curling into a cruel sneer.

Nobody except Y/N ever noticed that hidden darkness behind his soft kindness. It wasn’t her fault she made that wretched deal. He approached her first, staring so longingly into her eyes and speaking with a voice so charming that she hung off every word.

The first time he talked to her was when she was eating breakfast, isolated from the rest of her chattering siblings. Ares was her father, which explained all her retrained anger towards the world. She was the lowest of the bunch, never socialising with anyone and avoiding all group activities to the best of her ability.

She was skilled with a spear but did anybody notice? No one did. Except Luke. In a way, he was her saviour in this eat or be eaten world. Y/N was a tough cookie to crack but getting her head shoved into toilets every day could wear down anybody.

Luke wasn’t usually one to take an interest in girls. He had plenty fawning over him for his attention but none of them could catch his eye like Y/N. There was something about her precise aim with the blade of her spear and the way she gulped down her ice cold water without a second thought. Call it creepy, but Luke found solitude in secretly watching Y/N train.

“Y/N.” Was the first thing Luke had ever said to her. She looked up in surprise and Clarisse’s face turned sour at the sight of the Hermes boy. Her beady eyes narrowed as his hand brushed against Y/N’s shoulder.

“You’re pretty good with a spear.” He quietly whispered in Y/N’s ear so none of the other Ares kids could hear him. “If you ever need a sparring partner, I’m right here.”

Y/N lips parted in shock as she watched him slink off towards his own table. Her siblings stared at her in curiosity before turning back do their food, scoffing at her.

Every minute, Y/N would steal small glances at Luke. And every time, he caught her and gave her a knowing smirk. She looked down at her plate after being caught for the fifth time, her cheeks flushing red and turning hot. She no longer felt hungry.

Y/N stood up, scraping the rest of her food into the fire. She felt a presence behind her but she paid no mind to it until they spoke it.

“So, did you think about my offer?” Of course it was Luke. Y/N flinched, almost dropping the porcelain plate into the fire to join her discarded meal.

“Why me?” She asked, her voice nothing but a quiet whisper that barely reached Luke’s ears.

“Why not you?” He replied, cheekily tilting his head.

Y/N could come up with many reasons to that question. She always took Luke as someone who carefully picked who he interacted with, especially when it came to girls.

“May’s prettier.” She said, nodding over to the bright brown-haired girl tucked in the middle of the Aphrodite table.

“Yeah, she’s pretty but you’re prettier.”

“Vivian’s smarter.”

Luke glanced at the Athena girl with not much interest, shrugging. “Not my type.” Vivian’s was everybody type with her sharp-witted mouth and perfectly cut bob.

“Why are you talking to me, Luke?” After a while, Y/N cut straight to the chase. She furrowed her brows in confusion, a little uneasy with how close Luke was and how girls were glancing over at her.

“I’ve seen you fight.” Luke continued to avoid her questions, much to her annoyance. “Like I said, I’d be happy to be your sparring partner. Today, five pm. Does that work for you?”

Y/N stared at him, hesitating for a moment before she slowly nodded. “Yeah… I’ll see you then.” She briefly smiled before rushing off, dumping her plate somewhere else.

Luke wasn’t expecting much when he showed up at the arena, holding his newly sharpened sword. He figured that if Y/N didn’t end up coming then he could at least get some solo practice in.

But no, she was sitting on a bench inside the arena, fiddling with her spear. She lifted her head, her eyes locking with Luke’s.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise. I didn’t know you’d actually show up.” He dropped his sword in front of her, grinning.

Y/N shrugged. “It… seemed rude not to.” She muttered, looking down at the ground around.

“I’ll be honest, Y/N. I didn’t just want to spar with you. I’ve come to make you a deal. I’ve noticed that a particular someone keeps shoving your head into a toilet.” Luke smirked when he saw Y/N stiffen. He crouched down in front of her, “What if I told you… that I could make it all go away? Just like that.”

He snapped his fingers.

“I can make you popular, Y/N. So popular that no one, not even Clarisse, will mess with you again.”

Y/N gave Luke that same narrowed glare that Clarisse often sent his way. “What’s the catch?” She asked, causing Luke to chuckle.

“Smart. The catch isn’t that big. All you have to do is whatever I tell you to.”

Y/N’s eyebrows raised slightly as she finally made eye contact with Luke again. He charmingly smiled at her. She thickly gulped, weighing out all her options in her head. She could reject his offer and be the victim of relentless bullying… or she could accept and never get hit by Clarisse again.

Luke frowned at her hesitation. “The choice is your’s.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered to look at everything but him. She slowly nodded. “Okay.” She whispered. “Okay. I’ll do it. Deal.”

It started off small. Steal someone from Clarisse, easy enough. Y/N was almost as cunning as Hermes himself, which slightly impressed Luke. He gave her a nod of approval after she dropped Clarisse’s beloved spear in front of him. As promised, he stopped the bullying, but in a way Y/N never expected.

After yet another failed game of capture the flag, Y/N was walking towards the large crowd of demigods when Luke abruptly picked her up and kissed her. Dating or even being around Luke Castellan was guaranteed to make you popular and Y/N had somehow been roped into it without her knowledge.

Her tasks weren’t too difficult until Luke told her to do the unthinkable. To pick a target and violently murder them as a warning to the camp that bad things were coming.

“Luke… you know I can’t.” She muttered as she hid behind the Hermes cabin with him. She was clutching onto his arm, begging him to give her another task. Luke stared down at her in annoyance.

He rolled his eyes, slightly sneering. “Come on. It’s easy. I’ll even show you.” Y/N peered at him through her lashes, looking like a deer in headlights. But she couldn’t say no. She could never say no to Luke when he had his lips pressed so firmly against her’s and when his fingers traced delicate circles around her waist as he lifted her shirt.

After that short conversation, Y/N’s nights consisted of sneaking out to meet Luke. He taught her how to wield an ax, how to knock someone out, and even explained how to dismember a body. Clearly, he had studied these dark topics.

Y/N lay on the forest floor, staring up at the stars. Luke was nearby, his arm lazily slung around her waist and pulling her closer towards him.

“We have to be careful.” He whispered in her ear, tucking a strand of her hair away. Y/N knew that if Luke went down, she’d be forced with him and vice versa. He pressed a light kiss to her neck, inhaling the smell of her floral perfume.

Luke had a twisted obsession with the idea of murder. It thrilled him. The vivid image in his mind of blood splattered across the floor and limbs bent at awkward angles made his stomach churn but... it was exciting.

"Luke... what are we doing with our lives?" Y/N muttered, turning to face him. When had everything gone downhill? When did they suddenly turn into borderline murders and sadists? Perhaps Luke was always like this and he infected Y/N with his disease. But if she was willing to do anything to become popular, even drive a knife through someone's heart, then it just showed Luke that she might be as abnormal as him. “Princess,” Luke’s voice was barely a whisper as he handed her a cigarette. He often kept them hidden under his mattress, only taking them out when he needed to destress. He lit the tip for her and watched as she slowly took a drag, blowing out a mouthful of smoke.

The pair stared down at the body in front of them. They weren’t dead, merely knocked out. Outside, the wind was relentless. It smashed against the wooden walls of the abandoned cabin, as if warning Y/N and Luke to stop whatever madness they were about to commit.

BORN IN GRIEF,

“Do you ever think it could have been different if the gods gave a fuck about us?” Y/N asked, tilting her head to the side. She took another drawl from the cigarette before passing it over to Luke. “Would we be less… messed up if they actually cared?”

Luke shrugged. “Maybe. But this is who we are, we can’t change that.”

RAISED IN HATE,

Y/N would never admit it out loud but she and Luke were sick. Sick for even thinking of doing this and suddenly, Y/N’s stomach lurched. A tiny morsel of her personal morals held her back from approaching the body but she was also curious. How long would it take until the demigod before them realised their doom?

HELPLESS TO DEFY THEIR FATE.

They stirred but their eyes never fluttered open. Luke and Y/N exchanged a look before he gestured her forward. She held the wooden handle of the ax tightly, dragging it along the floor as she stepped towards the unconscious body.

Y/N was unusually calm when she lifted the ax, the sharp blade glinting in the moonlight. Suddenly, the demigod awoke with a desperate gasp. They scrambled back at the sight of Y/N.

LET THEM RUN,

“Please, don’t… what have I ever done to you? Don’t kill me! I haven’t even completed a quest or been claimed yet!” The demigod clasped their hands together, begging for sweet mercy. Y/N merely gazed at them, wide-eyed and unmoving.

“I’m afraid she won’t listen to you.” Luke made his presence known. The demigod’s eyes flickered over to him and they let out another gasp. They couldn’t beloved that Luke, the son of Hermes, the heartthrob of Camp Half-Blood was sitting idly on the sidelines while his companion was staring at them like they were an experiment. Simply a hypothesis that needed to be tested.

“She works for me. She’d kill her best friend if I told her to.” Luke gestured for Y/N to continue. The ax was raised above her head, ready to pierce the heart. Y/N swiftly swung the blade down. It buried itself in the demigod’s chest and a drowned-out scream slipped past their lips.

LET THEM LIVE,

Y/N’s eyes shook as she stared at the body in what could only be described as desperation. Desperation to land another sick blow.

Y/N lost count of how many times she raised the ax up and swung it down. All she could think about was the euphoria and giddiness rushing to her head. Blood stained her skin but she didn’t stop until the demigod was nothing but a mangled corpse, unable to be identified just by looking at their gruesome face.

Thunder crashed and lightning flickered. Rain poured down, the gods’ way of expressing their grave disappointment.

BUT DO NOT FORGET WHAT WE CANNOT FORGIVE.

Luke blew out another cloud of smoke, gazing at Y/N with his own twisted version of love. “Red looks good on you.” He uttered, spinning her around like she was in a beautiful ball gown and he was her date to prom.

Y/N laughed, the thrill of killing taking over. Luke’s lips curved into a smile. He had never heard the sound of her laugher before. And he was already intoxicated. Her lips tasted like smoke and tangy metal and he pulled her closer.

THEY ARE NOT ONE OF US, NOT OUR KIND.

PJO TAG LIST : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @outerbanks-stuff @jennapancake @csifandom @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @annispamz @justanotherkpopstanlol @soraya-09 @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @prettylilsimp @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbaby @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @csifandom @luvvfromme @mashiromochi @kamiliora @yorksyree @mqg125 @jamesmackreideswife @niktwazny303

[brittle-doughie]

The Beasts raiding the Cookie Kingdom to get Y/N Cookie, they search everywhere but don't find them, so they go to their castle, the last place to look at.

At the castle, they effortlessly beat every guard, and reach for the throne room. But, just before getting in, there's one last cookie in front of the door... Onion Cookie.

Onion Cookie: Wh-who are you...? You are all so scary...

Burning Spice: What is this? I was hopping for a guard that would actually put on a fight, not this... mockery.

Shadow Milk: Look at this little girl! She's smaller than my puppets!

Mystic Flour: Young or old, it doesn't matter, all will return to flour.

Eternal Sugar: You are so cute, darling. Please step aside, I would hate to hurt a cutie like you.

Silent Salt: ... Hmm.

Onion Cookie was obviously scared from these scary beasts, so she did the only thing she could... She cried.

Onion Cookie: BWAAAAHHHH!!!

Soon enough, a loud bang is heard. The throne room doors have been not open, but BURSTED out of their place. Y/N Cookie themself was responsible, they had a face of pure rage.

Y/N Cookie: Who dared to make my daughter cry?

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Shadow Milk Cookie: “Well, lookie here! I found my Cookie!”

Mystic Flour Cookie: “YOUR Cookie?”

Eternal Sugar Cookie: “Don’t be so unfair, trickster! We can share my heavenly, surely!”

Burning Spice Cookie: “HA! FINALLY! A worthy challenge! I will savor this!”

Silent Salt Cookie: “……!”

You: “Blackberry Cookie wanted me to make this quick. It’s Onion Cookie’s bedtime!”

You whistled loudly as the sound echoed in your throne room.

Then the windows in the room shatter apart as Cookies bursted through them, forming up next to you with their weapons drawn as they emanated a soft glow, as if imbued with power.

@/desperatelittledemon for the looks of Bitter Candy and Cherry Cream Cookie!

Crowned Cupcake, with her sword and hammer: “You made a mistake coming hereeeee~”

Dumpling, with her dual chopsticks: “I’m usually an advisor, but I can make an exception, ‘kay?”

Salsa, with her Tomato Blade roaring with fire: “So those are the Beast Cookies! Their power doesn’t scare me! Let’s show them how we treat enemies of the kingdom, friends!”

Cherry Cream, with her dual knives: “I was waiting for the day I’d meet the Cookie that toyed with my honey’s heart~ It’s only fair to break your hearts in return~”

Bitter Candy, with her needle gun: “I usually wish the best for my patients, but unruly ones need to be kept on check. It wouldn’t hurt to give you all a bit of SOUR medicine...”

…

…

…

Eternal Sugar Cookie: “My heavenly, who are they?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[inkdrinkerworld]

Dealer!remus and autistic!reader’s relationship starts off so rocky guys let me tell you!!! Angst to fluff

Remus doesn’t fully get that he can’t just say things- like he’s got to be deliberate and conscious of the words he uses and his tone.

He’s never had to do that before so it’s weird and it’s hard to learn and he slips up sometimes.

One of your biggest arguments happens when he’s frustrated and you’re just trying to help.

You’d seen him so sullen and moody on James’ story so you decided to do for him, what you do for yourself.

You baked.

But then you realized you’re not at the stage where you know his absolute favourite type of cookie so you go a little all out.

You bake chocolate chip biscoff cookies. Chocolate chip toffee cookies, regular chocolate chip and brown butter chocolate chip.

You set them in a cute box and you text Remus that you’re coming to see him. You’re thinking everything’s going to go well, you’re gonna drop the cookies off for him, maybe he’s going to tell you what’s bugging him- maybe not; either way he won’t be alone.

Except you get there and immediately you feel like you’re inconveniencing him.

Try as you might not to take it personally, it’s really hard because he seems particularly peeved at you.

“Why are you here?” His tone is sharp and jagged and it winds you a little.

“I brought you cookies to cheer you up. Saw that you weren’t yourself on James’ story,” you keep your tone even, light- a practiced thing from your days of dealing with people that didn’t quite get you.

“Why would that cheer me up?” At this point everything’s going downhill fast and you try to salvage what little is left of your deflated cheeriness and open up the box to display the array of cookies.

Remus at the same time waves his hand and the box goes pitching across his living room floor and he explodes.

You can’t remember the last time someone had yelled at you like that and honestly, it hurt more coming from Remus who was so normally relaxed and chilled.

You don’t even tell him goodbye, you just clean up all the mess while he’s cursing and yelling and then leave.

What’s twists the bloodied blade in the wound is that he doesn’t even try to stop you or reach out to you for three days.

By which point you’ve already gone mostly nonverbal and you’re in no mood to entertain or fake a personality for the sake of your friends when you do see them.

Remus stops at your house after you ignore three invitations to his place.

“Dove, I know you’re at home. Can you open the door please?” His voice is muffled through the hard wood of the door and you have half a kind to leave it shut- he’d been mean, he’d said things that were very hurtful now that you’ve actually processed what he’s said fully.

You don’t know if you can stand to see him. Then he knocks again, “I want to look at you when I apologise, sweet girl. Please open the door.” And the wholesale remorse in his tone shakes your core and you cave.

He steps inside with a box and three tulips. “I figured I’d have had to do it face to face for it to really mean anything and because I realized I was an absolute prick to you when you just came over to help.”

You don’t even hum. Usually, when he was nice Remus- as you’ve differentiated in your head - you’d be able to look him in the eyes every couple of words, but right now you just look over his shoulder.

“I shouldn’t have yelled or sworn at you like that. It wasn’t cool and I never want to speak to you like that- ever. I was an idiot and I just want to make up for it.”

There’s about a minute where Remus thinks he’s just fucked every single bit of progress you’ve both made with each other and then you let out a big breath.

“You can’t say things that you don’t mean just because you’re upset. What you said really hurt my feelings and I don’t like feeling the way you made me feel when you were that angry. If we continue to be friends you can’t do that because it makes it hard for me to trust you and find what you’re saying believable.”

Your voice is hoarse and crackly from lack of use and Remus feels even worse. “I’ll do better, I swear. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you- it’ll never be, but I am sorry that I did.”

You nod once, succinct and definitive. Remus holds out the box to you, showing a puzzle you’d been eyeing for a while.

“Can we build it together?” He asks softly, an ebb of vulnerability given away as you catch his eyes.

“Okay, but we have to do corners first, then work our way in.” Remus nods, his other hand holding the flowers for you. The tulips are a pristine white.

“The lady at the shop said they’re good for conveying apologies.”

You smile a little, “These ones are also for condolences.” Remus shakes his head,

“Not this time,” he watches you put them in a vase of water. “Also, ‘if we continue to be friends’, thought we were a little closer than friends, sweet girl?”

He relishes in the way you bite your lip to hide your grin as you take the puzzle box from him and set it up on your coffee table.

“Well I wasn’t sure if you wanted to acknowledge it or not.”

Remus says very seriously as he sits opposite you at the coffee table, ducking down so he can catch your eyes as you take out the numbered bags. “I’m always acknowledging it, we’re more than friends dove. When everything’s not so fucked, I’ll take you out and do it with pink and red lilies.”

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

12 Days of Christmas: 2024 Christmas Event

Day 4: Gingerbread

Pairing: Hyrule x Reader

Warning(s): N/A

Notes: This is dedicated to me getting rear-ended on my way to work and having a panic attack in a Walgreens parking lot, and all the people who've been requesting Hyrule (I SEE YOU).

Main Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Previous Day | Next Day

Hyrule was a hylian of many talents.

He could wield a sword like no one's business, create lightning with a mere snap of his fingers, and possessed a mouth quicker than anyone you'd met before. Though, you realized upon waking up in bed--alone, no less--to the frighteningly familiar scent of burning, there was only so much the man could be perfect at.

Standing on unsteady legs, you followed the scent to the kitchen, mouth falling open as you beheld the chaos. There was batter everywhere: on the counter, the walls, the floor, and, most notably, the shifty-eyed form of your boyfriend. Not only that, but it was a very suggestive shade of brown that made you want to simultaneously scream and throw yourself into the comfort of your shared bed.

"G-Good morning," stammered the fairy bastard himself, arms coming up to partially cover his bare chest, which only brought more questions to the frazzled forefront of your mind. Why was he shirtless? Why was it making you want to jump something other than whoever told him he could make... well, you weren't quite sure what he was attempting to create, but you would sure as hell find out. "...How did you sleep?"

You opened your mouth to respond.

A glob of molten shit fell from the ceiling.

Your jaw clicked shut in shocked solidarity.

Hyrule was still staring at you, looking very much like a child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Except the cookie jar was a considerate metaphor for whatever the fuck was currently cooling in that blasted cooking pot.

"Good," you managed to force out. It was true, you had slept amazingly; if only your waking life could have started as perfectly. "What–"

"I can explain," Hyrule cut you off, taking a step closer. Dear Hylia, he was covered in batter, from the tops of his freckled shoulders to the tapered dip of the beginnings of a v-line through the band of his sleep trousers. You instinctively held your hands up. Another glob fell from the ceiling. "I, um, heard you talking about wanting to make... gingerbread a bit ago," he paused, and you caught sight of the cookbook sitting innocently on the counter, feeling your exasperation ebb like water through clenched fingers. Hyrule's gaze turned melancholic as he surveyed the damage. "It was supposed to be a surprise..."

Fuck, you couldn't even think to be upset after all that. He had tried, and you were goddamn proud of it. "Don't be sorry," you said. Soft, comforting. Without missing a beat, you closed the distance between the two of you, wrapping him in a fierce hug. To hell with your clothes, you could wash them later. "We all start somewhere, honey."

Hyrule returned your embrace, hands fisting in the back of your tunic. His head wormed to where your shoulder met your neck, nose brushing sensitive skin, and you giggled softly at the ticklish sensation. "It's okay," you rubbed his back, paying extra attention to the sharper-than-normal slopes of his shoulder blades. Sure, there was an ungodly amount of failed gingerbread coating every inch of the kitchen, but you were an adult, damnit! "How about this," you began. "We'll clean this up and I'll show you how to make gingerbread the non-exploding way, okay?"

Hyrule's response was a grateful, mentally-assuaged peck to your cheek. "Thank you," he said, and you hugged him closer, unbothered by the goop still dripping from the ceiling.

"Okay, what the fuck," you muttered in disbelief as you worked on the mess that was the ceiling with a half-damp rag, precariously perched on the highest chair you owned. Naturally, it had begun to harden as time passed, and you were seriously regretting leaving your cookbook within reach of your boyfriend's grubby little fae fingers. You still loved him, obviously, but it had been no secret who would be doing the cooking in the relationship from the moment you witnessed his attempt at fruit cake a year back. "Link, love of my life, how the hell did you manage this?"

"Sorry," came his sheepish reply from the counter, where a particularly stubborn set of globs resided. His cheeks were pink with situational embarrassment, and it couldn't have been cuter if he tried.

You glanced down at Hyrule, bit your lip, and scrubbed marginally harder. "It's fine, I'm just..." Shocked? Aghast? Completely and overwhelmingly flattered by the gesture? "...impressed."

And terrified, but you would keep that to yourself.

"You didn't have to do this," you continued, slower. More thoughtful. "Not that I don't appreciate it--because I do– but, um–"

Fuck, how were you to convey your appreciation without sounding like an asshole, or, worse, Legend?

"I wanted to," replied your boyfriend; simple, like that was all there was to it. Hopeful hazel eyes tore themselves from the hardened gingerbread to gaze at your perched form. "Plus, you said everyone starts somewhere. I'm not getting any better unless I try."

Double fuck, he was using your own words against you! To keep from squealing, you scrubbed harder, squeezing the rag with enough force to puncture the fabric. "That's..." you paused, because, really, he was completely right. He usually was. "Thanks, Link."

"At your service," the hero mock saluted, and you couldn't help but snort. He wasn't a knight–not by a long shot–but it didn't matter when he saved you all the same. The counter was clean, and he moved to the chair you stood atop, hands hovering inches from your calves, ready to hold you steady should the need arise.

You giggled, wishing you had a way of pecking the crown of his head without simultaneously sticking your ass in his face. Not that you hadn't enjoyed each other in the kitchen, but one mess was enough for one day. "Truly, I'm being blessed."

"Actually, I'd argue it's the other way around–"

"Shush, dear, we're having a moment."

A hand squeezed your calf. "Right, right."

You were bone-tired by the time the scent of gingerbread finally began filling the house, practically passed out on the small couch you'd purchased together to represent the greatest triumph of your love: combined social anxiety, which the item of furniture emulated perfectly by encouraging you to renounce hylian-ity and become the hermits your souls yearned for.

A clattering noise rang out from the kitchen. You raised your head from the soft backrest, your expression not able to fully contain your budding terror. "You okay?" you called hesitantly. Letting Hyrule assume control of the kitchen while you collapsed in the living room was a battle unto itself, but you had faith. A tiny, sniveling, quivering faith that his response would either make or break.

"Yep!" Hyrule called back. He sounded giddy, though you weren't sure if it was a bad thing or not. "Ready to be amazed?"

"Hit me!" you cheered, and the hero rushed into the room, holding two vaguely-square blobs that smelled more than promising. It seems you made the right choice in overseeing the dough-making procedure, because he had a silly little habit of... adding ingredients that sounded good, but were actually what your mom warned you about when it was your father's turn to cook. "Oh my Hylia, you did it."

Hyrule chuckled, sitting next to you and handing over one of the mouthwatering blobs. "You haven't even tried it yet."

"I don't have to," you shot back, hefting a wide grin in his direction. You took a bit of the cookie and, fuck, if that wasn't some of the best gingerbread you remembered having in a painfully long time. "Holy shit, this is amazing."

"R-Really?" Your hero leaned closer, eyes glimmering hopefully. His thigh brushed yours when you took him by the back of his neck, pulling him closer until you were nose-to-nose. You kissed him, and there was no hesitation in the way Hyrule's arms snaked to wrap around your form. He tasted like gingerbread, and you almost wept when it came time to separate for air, lips swelling and mouths panting. "I love you," he said, holding you like a strong wind would blow you away. "So much."

"I love you, too," you pressed your foreheads together, content to bask in the fading dusk light and freshly-fallen snow caking the frosted outside of the windows. The cookie in your hand meant nothing when you had him, even if it was delicious as fuck. "We should do this again."

Hyrule's eyes crinkled at the corners, and he pressed a ginger-tinged kiss to the tip of your nose. "I'd love nothing more."

A bit shorter than usual, but I'm still proud!

[amomentsescape]

I'd love to see y/n making Halloween treats with the slashers from the prompt list!!!

Slashers Making Halloween Treats with You

October 2023 Halloween Prompt List

A/N: Thank you for this request! My inbox is still open and empty so feel free to send in more requests (with or without the prompts)!

Freddy Krueger

This man literally takes nothing seriously

The moment you step away from the counter, the fun pretzel treats are now wiggling fingers

Your immediate glare silences Freddy's laughs as he finally changes them back

"You're no fun"

Doesn't really help you with the process

Not because he doesn't want to, but because you refuse to let him

He doesn't want to take off his glove and would probably set the place ablaze somehow

So he's left to just watch

But he doesn't mind

He comes up behind you a lot and holds you close, peeking over your shoulder

Steals a few tastes of chocolate here and there

Will also make whatever spatulas or cups you need appear right beside you

Occasionally it's a severed head, but it wouldn't be Freddy without some dumb scares

He might not be much help in the kitchen, but he'll gladly lend a hand in tasting everything

Just don't leave him unintended

He has literally no self control

Michael Myers

Michael may not seem like the type, but he does have a bit of a sweet tooth

Halloween is clearly his favorite time of year, and it wouldn't make much sense for him to not like the occasional sugary treat

So of course, you had to take advantage of this

He doesn't really understand what you're doing (kitchen stuff isn't his thing)

It's honestly kind of cute how he just follows you around like a lost puppy, only doing what you ask of him

He'll hand you whatever supplies you need

Doesn't touch any of the food though

Wants to leave the house a couple of times, but you don't let him

Eventually decides on sitting in a chair and watching you

Will only actually help you if it involves using a knife

He doesn't enjoy doing things he's not good at, but using a blade is something he feels confident with

Honestly, anything that involves the use of a sharp object is something he'd rather do (he thinks you're too clumsy)

Just tell him and he'll do it, and he'll do it well too

You have him taste some of the ingredients along the way

He shows no reaction, but he secretly loves it

Jason Voorhees

Despite everything, Jason is still a bit of a child at heart

He doesn’t really eat, but he’s happy to be there with you (and he makes an exception here and there)

He’s very eager to help you in the kitchen!

All you have to do is ask and he’s there

It reminds him of what he and his mother used to do when he was younger

Would rather build each treat together than do it separately

This takes a lot more time, but he’s happy to spend all night doing it if it’s by your side

Loves when you give him a small kiss or a bump of your hip as you reach around him

Holds each cookie with such gentleness that you’d think it was alive

Gets all pouty if he accidentally makes a mess

But a small smile is all it takes for him to pep up again

Thomas Hewitt

The occasional piece of candy would be handed out during this time of year, but actual baked goods were rare for him

So when you brought up the idea of making some treats, Thomas was almost a bit confused

But any activity with you was quality time in his book, so he agreed

He's not much of a chef since his job is mainly to catch the food, but he tries his best

All the measuring and cooking is solely up to you, but the decorating is something he's eager for

The occasional frosting boop ends up on your nose

And sugar has somehow found its way all over the floor and table

But Thomas's excitement makes up for it all

He's not much of an artist, but they'll all taste the same

Definitely wants to lick out the bowl before you have a chance to wash it

But he's happy to help you clean after everything is done

Bubba Sawyer

This man has the biggest sweet tooth ever

Immediately jumps on the chance to make some Halloween treats with you

He not only likes sweets, but he also enjoys the process of making them

Is a bit too eager to help and ends up just throwing flour and sugar into the bowl before measuring them

Will probably need to give him a lollipop or something to calm him down a bit

Hands you all the ingredients you need

Doesn't know the difference between a 1/2 cup and 1/4 cup though

He ends up eating a good amount of the batter while you were washing your hands

So your full-sized cake was going to need to be resized

You end up settling on making cake pops

Bubba has a lot of fun rolling the dough into little balls and dipping them into the icing

He ends up getting food all over his clothing and has to change before they're done

Brahms Heelshire

It was actually his idea to make some treats in the first place

You were feeling a bit bummed that you couldn't do the normal fall things you used to do since Brahms hates leaving the house

He tried to make up for it by recommending the spooky activity

You were excited and decided to get started that night

Brahms would probably burn down the house if you tried to bake anything, so you settled on some rice krispie treats instead

He stayed by your side the entire time, but wasn't really much help until the mixing part

He jumped at the chance to stick his hand in the marshmallowy mess

However, he also tried everything in his power to eat it before you had even added the food coloring

You basically had to threaten to not sleep in bed with him that night for him to stop

Ends up adding too much food coloring

And still finds a way to eat some of treat when your back was turned

This resulted in the making of just one rice krispie treat

Norman Bates

He loves the idea and wants to make it into a date night

He lights some candles and gets the record player going

Norman isn't one for sugary sweets, but he does enjoy pie during this cooler weather

He also knows his way around the kitchen pretty well so of course he already has the recipe memorized

Wants to make everything from scratch (the filling, the crust, all of it)

Shows you the correct way to knead the dough and will stand behind you to guide your hands

Rewards you with small kisses on the forehead

Once the pies are in the oven, he takes you by the hand and dances a bit to the music while you wait

You both end up cooking an entire dinner to go along with the pies

They honestly came out delicious and the night was absolutely perfect for you two

Billy Loomis

Billy is a decent cook, he just lacks motivation

But he agrees to the idea as long as they can be Ghostface themed (you couldn't expect anything less honestly)

Will do most of the work making the batter and letting you lick the spoon

Gives you kisses in between each task

He leaves the decorating up to you though, since art isn't really his forte

He also doesn't want to get colored icing on his clothes

Of course, you have to have a scary movie playing in the background

Helps you clean up if you ask him to

Holds you to his chest while you try to work, completely distracting you the whole time

Sweet kisses along your neck

The occasional compliment in your ear

He's having a much better time than he had originally thought

Once they're done, you both have trouble waiting and immediately cut into them

The brownies are shared on the couch during your horror movie marathon

Stu Macher

So this isn't the first time you guys tried to make some treats

Cookies, cupcakes, and candies have all been attempted before only to fail

Mostly Stu's fault to be honest

He burnt pretty much everything

So you finally decided to go with the complete opposite

Milkshakes!

He sneaks a few spoonfuls of ice cream before you guys start

Spills milk on the floor and on your shirt a couple times

But the enthusiasm is there

Has a fun Halloween playlist going on in the background as well

His favorite part is rolling the glasses around in the sprinkles

Dumps half the container in his mouth first though and stains his lips black

Tries to kiss you despite your giggling protests

By the time you guys finally finish decorating the shakes, the ice cream has pretty much melted down

But they still taste great

Eric Draven

Anything that feels like normal domestic living is a win in Eric's book

He honestly looks forward to the task all week and even comes home super early that night so you two can spend time together

But of course, he somehow manages to choose the most decoratively challenging treat he possibly could

Lights some candles and leaves the window cracked, letting the cool fall air inside

Hums while he mixes ingredients together, giving you a warm smile whenever he catches your eye

Doesn't even let one drip of batter fall onto the counter

He is somehow that skilled

Wraps his arms around you and sways back and forth while you work

You leave all the bone decorating to him though

Eric is incredibly artistic, and he somehow pulls off everything he tries for the first time

The treats end up coming out just like the picture

You end the night taking turns feeding each other the little treats

[thursdaygxrls]

thin ice — four

part one | part two | part three | part four

summary — kitty is yet again dragged to a social gathering she would rather not attend. the bait this time? weed!

paring — uni hockey player!peter parker x fem!(journalist)!reader

disclaimer — who is expecting me to own peter parker by now?? bc i don’t

warnings — reader is referred to as ‘kitty,’ weed, slightly inexperienced reader (experienced peter, no smut yet im sorry), possible ooc

Days like these were the ones Kitty craved: hazy, chilly spring weather that resembled fall, except that dying leaves were replaced by cherry-red buds, and flowers bloomed through blades of grass. It was one of those days with no responsibilities to fill her precious hours—the ones that were spent scrolling through Pinterest and reading. She was stretched haphazardly along her bed, still dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt with holes in the armpits. The blinds were still closed, so the sudden beam of light next to her startled her.

“You love interrupting my dark-dwelling time,” she hissed as MJ entered the room. Sticking out her tongue, MJ closed the door behind her and sealed off the obnoxious light, much to Kitty’s relief.

“I’m sorry, my sun-hating princess,” MJ spoke dramatically as she rummaged through her bag, “But, I come bearing gifts.”

At this, Kitty perked up, swiping out of Project Makeover and sitting up to devote her full attention to her roomate. From her bag, MJ produced two plastic-wrapped chocolate-chip cookies and tossed them to bed. The girl pounced on them, immediately tearing into the plastic on one of the packs.

“I forgive you,” she said before biting into the treat.

“Thank God,” MJ replied in dramatic relief. Ease settled over the room as MJ removed her jacket and went about unpacking her things. Kitty, now finished with her first cookie, tossed the used plastic to the trash can across the room (and missed horribly). 

“What’ve you been up to this lovely Friday?” She asked her freckled friend, who was currently changing out of her cable knit sweater. 

“Oh, you know, class,” MJ responded as she slid a Stevie Nicks shirt over her head, “Some people still have class on Fridays.”

“That must be heartbreaking,” Kitty hummed sarcastically, “Anything else?”

“Oh, yeah,” MJ’s movements were smooth as she went through her bag, “I had lunch with Harry after class.”

“Was the dining hall romantic?” Kitty questioned with a smile.

“Totally,” MJ responded with a laugh, “The black-bean burgers are basically aphrodisiacs. Anyways, he invited us out to Hot Rock around eight, so I was thinking we could get dinner–”

“No, thanks,” Kitty intercepted, bringing her legs up closer to her torso and flattening her lips to a line, “I’m not leaving the dorm today.”

“If you had it your way, you’d do that every day,” MJ groaned.

“And?’ Kitty quirked a brow, causing another grumble to leave her counterpart.

“Do you realize how much I say ‘no’ to stuff?” She continued, “‘Kitty, wanna go to a hockey game?’ No. ‘Kitty, wanna go to a frat party?’ No. Our entire relationship exists on the basis of you wanting to do stuff and me trying to refuse.”

“But you still went,” MJ raised her brows hopefully, “To both things. And it’s not like it’s just going to be Harry, he said some other people would be there.”

“Oh, great, other people, you know how much I love social gatherings where I don’t know anyone.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“You know Peter,” MJ suggested. Kitty hadn’t seen Peter in a while. ‘A while,’ in her case, was a week. She’d gotten some semi-regular texts from him (cat memes and open invites to hang out) but hadn’t seen him since the frat party.

“Is it the best use of their time to be at Hot Rock when the semi-finals are two days away?” Kitty asked.

“No, probably not, but,” MJ’s smile, which had been dimming, came back with full vibrance, “But we can reap the benefits of their deviant behavior.”

“Are the benefits better than chocolate chip cookies?” She hummed.

“Pre-rolls and a bong,” MJ wiggled her fingers in a tamer version of jazz hands. Kitty seemed to deflate with a loud sigh.

“I hate that you make me do things.”

Hot Rock existed on the older, suburban side of campus. Right behind one of the major dining halls was a small, hidden space that hit the blind spot of the security cameras in the area. It wasn’t a rock so much as an artificial slab of stone with a metal pipe attached that spewed hot steam. It was connected to the heating system in the dining hall, but also served as a popular spot for stoners. A few of these man-made smoke spots were scattered around campus, but this one was the most popular, mainly because this rock was always much hotter than the others.

Kitty’s breath appeared in small puffs in the night air and she and MJ walked around the corner of the dining hall. It was spring, and the weather was getting warmer, but there was still a bit of frost. As they shuffled down a small slope, the rock revealed itself, decorated with about four people, one of them being Harry.

“MJ!” He nearly fell over himself scrambling towards the pair. He pressed a small kiss to her lips and wrapped an arm around her in greeting. MJ giggled, choosing to ignore Kitty’s gagging face.

“Kitty-cat!” Harry directed his grinning face to her, “I’m so glad MJ got you out of your tree.”

“I almost wish you’d just call me ‘bitch’ instead of that,” she replied. Harry, not losing any vigor, laughed.

“I know what you need.” He wagged his brows as he reached into the breast pocket of his flannel. He produced a mini pre-rolled joint with a proud grin, “Kitty needs her catnip.”

“I’m gonna let that one slide,” she said, and he simply chuckled. His eyes moved from hers, and somehow his impossibly bright smile widened. Kitty turned and was met with a familiar pair of hazel eyes.

“I’m a big fan of catnip, too,” Peter grinned, sliding down to meet the rest of the group.

“Hey, Peter,” Harry let go of MJ for a moment to give Peter a half-hug. Peter’s eyes, however, never let go of Kitty. He held her gaze with ease.

“Can we sit? My ass is cold,” MJ grumbled lightly as Harry took his post next to her.

“Of course, of course,” was Harry’s hurried reply. The four found spots on the rock, Harry returning to his original spot and taking MJ with him. Kitty settled in a small nook where the slab met a natural rock formation, and, as if she was a magnetic pole, Peter sat next to her. A few awkward introductions were shared with the others at the rock, though, it was clear they were all at least a few hits into Harry’s pre-rolls. 

“So,” Peter’s voice cracked through the silence, “We keep finding each other, don’t we?”

“You keep finding me,” Kitty corrected.

“Same difference,” he shrugged. Wordlessly, he slipped his backpack from his shoulder and set it down in front of him. He worked in surprising order as he removed the items: a grinder, a small, rolled-up plastic bag, a green bong that had seen better days.

“Are student athletes supposed to be smoking?” She asked. For once, his gaze wasn’t focused on her, but on the contents before him.

“Helps with nerves,” he said, grabbing the baggy, “It’s medical, y’know.”

“Hm, I bet,” she replied. He worked with diligence: his long, slender fingers plucked a chunk of bud from the bag and trapped it in the grinder. The sleeves of his black long sleeve were rolled up, revealing his wrist that tensed lightly when he ground the bud. She’d never quite noticed how strong his hands looked—veiny and taught, likely from the hours upon hours of hockey practice. Then came the realization that she was staring, which pulled her attention away from him and to the others on the rock. Though there weren’t many people, pockets of conversation were created: MJ and Harry, who were cuddled up and passing a joint, two other members of the hockey team and a girl with shaggy blonde hair, and, of course, her and Peter. 

“Alright,” Peter hummed in satisfaction as he packed the bowl. He grabbed a red lighter from the front pocket of his jeans and finally looked at Kitty. He held the bong out for her with one of those easy, boyish smiles, “Wanna do the honors, Y/n?”

Peter seemed to be good at evoking emotions from her. Annoyance, frustration, confusion, and now, prickly embarrassment. She licked her lips, looking from the bong and back to him.

“Um,” she let out a small cough, “I’m…not sure how to?”

She wasn’t new to smoking. There was the occasional joint she and MJ would indulge in, or maybe she would take a hit off cart at one of the parties she was dragged to. She’d just hadn’t gotten the chance to hit a bong before—a fact that didn’t bother her until she was here, staring at Peter. She hated her reply and the way she stumbled with her words. She hated that she had nothing better to say. She hated that she had released blood into the water.

“You haven’t done this before?” He grinned. Her jaw clenched at the way he said that. Kitty, in response, sucked her teeth.

“Have you never smoked before?” He cocked his head.

“No, I have, just not this,” she sighed, a slight aggravated clip to her words. Peter must’ve noticed because his gloating grin softened.

“That’s alright,” his voice was more mellow now, “That’s okay, everyone has a first time.”

This persona, the calmer one he adapted when he knew she was getting pissed off, may have pissed her off even more. If he wasn’t being an asshole, it was harder to be annoyed with him, which made her annoyed with him, which made her annoyed with herself.

“Okay,” she said, a cleansing breath of chilled spring air filling her lungs.

“Okay?” He repeated, “You want to try?”

Kitty glanced at MJ and Harry. They weren’t doing anything graphic, but they were still all over each other, giggling and whispering. She turned back to Peter and nodded.

“You sure?” He raised a brow.

“Gimme,” she groaned, taking the glass bong from his hands. He let out a small, breathy chuckle and nodded.

“Okay, so,” he sat up, “I’m gonna light it, you breathe in through the mouth right here. I’ll pull the bowl for you and you keep breathing in, okay?”

Kitty nodded, her lips descending on the mouthpiece. A sudden flash of panic struck her as he flicked the lighter. Did she look stupid? Was she being stupid? Why did she care? Peter lit the bowl, and she did as he said, sucking in a deep drag. The bong bubbled to life and milky smoke flooded the tube.

“Good, good,” Peter encouraged as he pulled the bowl, “Keep sucking in—there you go, just like that.”

She’d been doing fine until he’d spoken. His words, meant as innocent encouragement, sent blood rushing to her face. Her scalp burned as her head reared back and ragged coughs escaped her. Smoke left her lips in puffs, like dust being stirred from an old book. Peter patted her back with one hand and rummaged through his bag with another.

“That happens,” he spoke, unphased by her continuous coughing. He took a metal water bottle decorated in stickers in various states of wear from his bag and unscrewed the lid.

“Here, drink,” he brought it to her lips and she immediately sucked down the water. It was cold against her burning throat. She focused on how cool it was, hoping it would also subdue the burning in her face. A few gulps later, Kitty was back to a semi-normal state. She took in deep breaths, swirling in oxygen with the cannabis in her lungs. 

“That was a big-ass hit. Good job,” Peter chuckled, “When was the last time you smoked?”

“I don’t know, a few weeks ago? And thank you,” Kitty replied. There wasn’t a hint of snark in her words, which was highly unusual. The afterburn of her influx of new feelings was still there.

“That oughta do it,” he took the bong from her, “I mean, you can totally have more, but your tolerance is probably pretty low, and the hit you just took looked more like three.”

“Yeah, that oughta do it,” she coughed out. He eyed her, suspicious of her lack of sass, before lighting the bowl for himself.

The bong caught up with her within ten minutes. There was a low vibration in her body, one that pulsed in her fingertips and warmed her. Her vision was a bit more narrow now, like she was viewing movie through her vision. Her mind bubbled, and when her eyes caught a glimpse of the sky, she leaned back with astonished glee.

It wasn’t often that you saw stars in the sky on this side of New York. Usually, the city lights blocked out anything non-artificial. But here, a mile or so away from the more prominent lights, she was able to see the glimmer of distant stars. It was captivating, really, and she could’ve stared at them for hours. Maybe she did. People buzzed around her without her recognition. Even Peter seemed to settle into a comfortable silence next to her. 

“Do you remember that one episode of Hannah Montana where Miley moves into a new house and there’s a pizza oven? Like, one of those wood ovens you put pizza in. A pizza oven? Yeah?” She asked, glancing in Peter’s direction. He seemed to only slightly register the question before looking at her with a cocked brow.

“No,” he replied.

“Oh,” she hummed, “What about the one where—it’s the third episode, I think—the one where Oliver—no, it’s the second episode—the one where Oliver is in love with Hannah Montana, but he doesn’t know it’s Miley, so Miley and Lilly are like ‘oh, no!’” 

“No,” he repeated. His voice wasn’t harsh, though. It was soft, maybe even curious.

“It’s good,” she said, “Real good. Real good.” 

It was around then that the stars began to lull her to sleep. There was something comfortable about this moment: the heat of the rock, the stars, the weed in her system. She drifted off for a moment and was quickly awoken by a gentle shake.

“Y/n?” Peter called lightly, “Are you sleepy?”

His hand was on her arm. His hand was on her arm. Her eyes settled on that before she could even begin to process his words. His hand was lovely, truly, with its web of veins, the slender fingers that warmed her skin. She looked up to him and smiled.

“Hey!” Was her cheery reply. He laughed at this and nodded. Kitty cocooned inside herself once more as he turned away and called out to someone on the other side of the rock. She heard Harry, then MJ, then Peter again. It sounded like hearing a foreign language as the spoke.

“Would you like to sleep in your bed instead of this rock?” Peter asked. Kitty, still cocooned, sprung forward a bit.

“Yes,” she responded confidently. He couldn’t help but smile at her tone. He packed away his bag swiftly and stood, offering a hand to Kitty.

“You think I can’t stand up? Oh, I can stand up—I’m an olympic stander,” she mumbled, rejecting his hand. This side of her was something Peter had never experienced. He was used to snippy comments and sharp replies, but the inebriated, bumbling Kitty was an entirely different person. He liked it. A lot.

They began their trek back to Kitty’s dorm in silence. It was comfortable like this: quiet interrupted by the occasional off-key hum by the girl. It wasn’t a very far walk, only five minutes or so, and when they reached the front, Peter’s tight grin loosened a bit.

“Hey, I wanted to ask you something,” he said, his hand gently catching her arm. In this state, she wasn’t able to deny the electric current that was sent through her nervous system. Kitty shivered as she met his eyes.

“I know you’re not in the right headspace for this, so I’ll ask you again later, but…” he trailed off. He looked away from her, and she caught the way his throat bobbed slightly. This lasted for only a moment before he was making eye contact again, “Do you wanna come to semis?”

That wasn’t the question she expected. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Instead of responding, she stared blankly at him.

“It’s not here, it’s actually kind of far away,” he was rambling now, “Well, not super far, it’s in New Jersey. It’s sort of late notice, so I know you might not want to go, and you have your own shit to worry about, too, so—”

“This is very weird,” Kitty interrupted.

“What?” Peter stopped, looking to her with a quirked brow.

“You’re acting nervous and talking a lot. Weird,” she said.

“Yeah, well, I am nervous, and I’m a little high, and you’re really hot, so there’s just a lot going on up here.” He gestured to his head. Her eyes were blank for several seconds before they sparked in recognition.

“Oh—oh.” Her expression changed rapidly, eventually landing on something akin to realization. Silence swelled between them for a moment before it was broken by one word: “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Peter repeated.

“Maybe,” she nodded in agreement. His lips tugged into a boyish smile once more.

“Okay, Y/n,” he grinned, “Maybe.”

a/n — (in the voice of that one meme) heyy….how y’all doin??? okay so im sorry that this update is months late, college has been a lot. it’s been fun tho!! like, i think im the happiest ive ever been. anyways, im sorry if this update doesn’t fit as well with the others, im trying to get back into the groove of writing, forgive me 🙏 love u guys!!

taglist

@reidslovely @awezomezauce @tarzinnia @fr3akho3 @multilovebot @collywobbl @naok-iyuu @kay-i-guess @littlexscarletxwitch @ujimoo