#fortunately pancakes

[askchuuyanakahara]

Chuuya, have you ever cooked for Dazai before?

Did you two live together as teens? Or have sleepovers? You must have had some fun together.

Chuuya: "He'd sometimes stay over out of convenience, I guess."

Chuuya: "I've cooked for him before but, if I'm honest, I don't do it often. That idiot can actually cook, he usually just doesn't bother to."

@bioluminescentcat

Chuuya: "It's already been almost an hour.."

Chuuya: "But the food's probably cold by now.."

[wannabe-f-f-friends]

Hanging out casually with Dianxia for the first time ever, and Hua Cheng is asked to:

1) Recite Trivia, 2) Paint Something, 3) Build Something

Imagine getting to show off your Special Interest Skills to your crush and having them be actually interested and impressed. AND they shared a bed? Miracle scenario.

[cookinguptales]

RYAN????? SEACREST????????

[runandhideguys]

I feel like im suitably immune to real english patriotism and cultural anglicanism. i dont know the lords prayer and I couldn't tell you more than one line of our national anthem. I didn't know what a Jesus Christ was until I was 3 or 4, only that people yelled it when they were mad. I had somehow never heard of pancake day until I was 12.

[mosqitofood]

[lizardho]

I was like 11-12 years old when I figured out at a boring-ass church activity that you could put rocks into little plastic spoons and then pelt people who annoyed me with them. I did this for the rest of the activity, and at Sunday dinner the next night was bragging about my victory (cornering the mean kid who picked on my youngest brother and pelting him with rocks). One of my cousins was like “no way, that sounds SO fun! Let’s do that RIGHT NOW!” So we grabbed spoons and went and got pebbles from the back yard and launched them at each other.

The problem was my grandma sold her soul for the world’s most resilient plastic spoons so we could launch those fuckers HARD. I gave out welts like candy on Halloween, and I got them back in kind.

So we resorted to taking cover and giggling until we got whacked, then yelping, then returning fire.

My cousin hid in my grandpa’s little fishing boat. It was a good boat, but simple and honestly underused. We didn’t know the little windows on it, meant to keep the wind out of my grandpa’s face while he drove, were cracking. However, they were definitely cracking. Eventually it became obvious and we realized we had been being dumb.

This was NOT the first time in my life I’d been dumb roughhousing and broken something, and I had developed a reputation in my family as being “suicidally honest” so I was the one to deliver the bad news. My grandpa let out a pretty good chuckle and said it was OK, tousled my hair, and asked my grandma to bring me cake. I am not kidding. I learned later he hated his boat and only bought it for his kids’ sakes, since he thought everyone needed to know how to fish. At the time though I was just bewildered and pleased at my good fortune. FINALLY, at long last, being honest and telling the truth about breaking something expensive was getting me cake. I knew if I kept trying it would eventually serve me, and now so had CAKE. I was pleased as could be.

My dad, on the other hand, was livid. He LOVED that boat. He spent several weeks each summer recovering from breaking ribs in that boat every year for about 7 years prior to this incident. He had great memories and memories that boat. So he told my Grandma NO cake for me AND that I’d be coming by this weekend to fix stuff around the house and pay for the broken window with my babysitting/lawn mowing money.

Obviously I was devastated, but that felt more in-line with the way things normally went when I broke something expensive so I just figured it was OK. My grandpa gave my grandma a look and sadly said “Ok, have her here on Saturday to help me with some yard work.”

That Saturday my dad woke me up at 6:00 sharp and drove me, sleepy and bewildered, to my grandpa’s house. He was mumbling under his breath the whole time but he thought he was teaching me consequences for my actions so he was ultimately OK with it.

We get to my grandpa’s house at 6:15. My grandpa is outside with a ladder hanging Christmas lights. The lawn is freshly mowed, the trees and garden are weeded and well-tended to, the carnations in the front yard look immaculate, and my grandpa has this giddy mischievous look on his face. He tells me he was so excited that I was coming over that he couldn’t sleep, so he did all the yard work himself. He asked me to help him put up Christmas lights and decorate the Christmas tree, which I did, then said that because I was such a good helper I could have some pancakes for breakfast. I was sent home with the slice of cake I had been denied the week before, wrapped to keep it as fresh as possible.

The whole way home my dad looked a little miffed, but told me that he was glad I had been honest and was proud of me for helping grandpa. I know he wanted me to Learn a Lesson™️the cowboy way, like he had as a kid, but didn’t have much room to complain since I’d still been Put To Work.

I think that was a lesson for both of us, although I’m not totally sure what it was supposed to show me. I think it was my grandpa’s way of showing my dad that discipline without tenderness doesn’t count as much. He died last year and I miss him terribly, as does my dad. I hope that my story of victory, drama, punishment, and ultimately a secret second victory is meaningful to someone else out there, but if not it still means a lot to me ❤️

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

(Dark!) BNHA: Toxic Relationship

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

Boys -> Hawks + Bakugo + Dabi + Deku

Reaction: Moments from your toxic relationship with your Pro-Hero boyfriend.

WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship; Abuse; Manipulation; Non-con.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Let me know if you like this reaction format or what 🙂

–

Hawks

“Y/n is a real clutz, y’know. Can’t even walk on even ground without tripping over her own feet.”

Your cheeks flame with humiliation as the camera pans to the crowd that laughs heartily at the demeaning words, as if Keigo had dropped the funniest joke they’ve ever heard. 

“That’s adorable.” the woman laughs, “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she has no quirk? I believe you said she is quirkless, right?”

Keigo chuckles, nodding as he crosses an ankle over his knee.

“She sure is. Can’t even imagine what type of quirk she’d have, she’s just not the type.”

Your hand grips the remote tighter. What does he mean by that? Does he think you’re not good enough to have a quirk?

You consider turning off the TV, but fortunately the interviewer changes the subject. They casually speak about the current stance of heroes and their struggles on fighting off criminals and villains.

Keigo is charming as usual, delivering answers that are a perfect portrait of responsibility with a sprinkle of humor. He’s good like that, even though his previous answers left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Somehow, they end up reaching the topic of hobbies and free time. 

“Going Pro Hero leaves little time for myself, so sadly I don’t really have much time for hobbies. Wish I had.” he says humbly. “My girlfriend has lots of them, though.”

You inhale sharply. Not again. 

For your misfortune, the woman gets interested.

Perhaps because it’s an exclusive interview and her network channel gave her orders to squeeze every drop of information they can get on Hawks’ personal life. 

“What type of hobbies? She looks like she’s a great cook.” she tries to guess, but Keigo bursts laughing, holding his belly in an exaggerated mannerism. 

“Nah, cooking isn’t really her department. Burned eggs and half-cooked pancakes are more her style. She doesn’t even-”

You change channels in a heartbeat, bursting in tears at the low insults.

You’re not that bad. Sure, you’re not amazing at cooking, but never once did Keigo complain when he eats the food you diligently make after he returns from patrols. 

And now he slanders you on national television? 

And the worst part? It’s not even the first time he’s done this. 

Dabi

“There’s nothing to eat in the fridge.” 

“There is.” 

“There isn’t.” 

You stop writing your notes, swallowing back an annoyed sigh, already aware of what was happening.

“There is food in the fridge.” you repeat, “You just have to cook it.”

Dabi looks at you, unimpressed. 

“No shit Sherlock. Maybe you can do it for me.” 

“You serious?” 

Meeting his arrogant smirk, you huff. 

“Dead serious, babe. Not like you’re busy anyways.”

Your mouth drops at his audacity and you open your arms to indicate the mess of books, papers and pens in front of you. 

“I’m studying, Dabi. Can’t you see that? Grow up and cook for yourself, yeah?” you snap your attention back to your books, but your mood has already turned sour. 

You pretend to scribble down a few words when Dabi walks to you slowly. He peeks into your annotations, snorting. 

“That handwriting is kinda shitty.” he mocks you. “Besides, what exactly are you even studying for? You’re not exactly cut out to be a doctor, y’know? Not enough brain cells in you to become that.” 

You glare at him, angrily swatting away the hand that condescendingly tries to pet your hair. 

“You’re such an asshole, Dabi. Maybe if your life revolved around something other than your stupid daddy’s issues, you would actually get a job. Not like Endeavour is worried sick about you, not when he’s got Shoto.” you spit the words venously.

Not the nicest words, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to bother. 

A dark shade crosses Dabi’s face, his amused expression turning colder. You’d be lying if the sight didn’t ignite some fear in you.

“Is that so?” his crooked smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “And why would I need a job - or Endeavour, by that matter - when I have you?”

His hand reaches for your shoulder and there’s an edge in his eyes that immobilizes you. You shouldn’t have mentioned Endeavour. 

“I’m not with you because of that bitchy attitude, you know. I like my girl to know who’s in charge. Respect is really important in a relationship and your behavior is making me really upset, baby.” his tone is scaringly soft, and his hand travels to your neck.

You hold your breath when the staples on his hand scratch against the delicate skin of your throat. “So, if you need me to remind you of your place, I’ll gladly help you with that.”

His fingers heat up at a low temperature, not enough to actually burn you but it doesn’t stop the lonely tear that slides from your eye, the only sign of the chilling terror you’re feeling.

He leans forward, kissing your forehead before sliding his hand away. 

“Are we understood?” 

The nod you give him is shaky at best, but Dabi smiles nonetheless. 

“Now, how about that food you’re gonna make me?”

Bakugo

“I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

Besides a low hum, Bakugo doesn’t acknowledge you much, too busy French kissing your neck.

His hands head for your ass, provoking a wince in you when he gropes it with unnecessary strength, your left ass cheek being kneaded like it’s dough.

Katsuki uses his grip on your ass to push your hips forward even as you complain again. The thin fabric of his sweatpants does nothing to hide the hardness that shamelessly rubs against your thigh. 

“Katsuki.” 

Once again he gives no sign of hearing you, rolling his hips with more urgency and you barely catch the tired groan that almost rolls away from you.

The clock on your side reminds you that despite the early hour, you’ll only have 6 hours to sleep. 

You really have to sleep and if you’re being honest, tonight you’re not feeling sexy or horny enough to sleep with your boyfriend. 

But that doesn’t make you feel any less awkward when Bakugo’s movements turn more vigorous and needy, humping your naked thigh as if he’s fucking it while you remain as alive as a statue. 

“Fuck, this isn’t enough.” he growls against your skin, and your heart skips a beat when his hands reach for your shorts, tugging them down halfway until you panickedly grab his wrist, wiggling your body away from his.

“Seriously, Kats, I’m not in the mood tonight.” you say, quickly pulling back your shorts. 

“You fuckin’ serious right now?” he growls through gritted teeth, still hovering above you. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you timidly nod. 

“Maybe we can do this tomorrow? It’s just that-”

“Yeah, whatever. Not like you haven’t used that stupid excuse on me before.”  

Your eyebrows raise with surprise at the bitter tone on his voice as he gruffs, pushing himself off you. 

“I’m not making up excuses.”

“The hell you aren’t.” he looks at you, angry. “Every time I try to start something, you turn into a damn nun. Always too freakin’ tired,  too busy or not in the mood.”

He scowls, spiky blonde hair falling to his eyes. 

“All you have to do is open your goddamn legs and let me do the rest, and you can’t even do that.”

His words hit a sore spot and he turns his back on you, settling on the distant side of the bed after delivering strained punches to the pillow to soften it up.

“Maybe I go after those Dynamite's groupies that are always throwing themselves at me. Since you never want to fuck anymore.”

You’re left too stunned to speak, sadness blossoming at the cruel meaning of his words and it’s a struggle to swallow the tears. 

He wouldn’t really, would he? But your mind lingers on the disturbing thought. He’s popular with girls, even with his angry mood.

Bakugo is tall, muscular and not even the ever present scowl in his face is able to contradict the attractive facial features he’s been blessed with. Meanwhile you’re just mediocre, if even that...

Your insecurities strike back, taunting you. 

Your hand reaches for his arm before you even realize it, and you’re mildly surprised when he doesn’t shake you off. 

“The hell you want now?”

Pulling on his arm until he finally turns to the side, you kiss him. 

He groans against your lips, allowing your hand to rest on the warm plane of his chest and you let it slide lower until it touches his clothed member. 

Neither of you speak a word, but you feel Bakugo smirking against your lips while he practically shoves your shorts down. 

You allow yourself go limp underneath him, letting your boyfriend fuck you in the way he wants to. Holding back a tired sigh when the fluorescent numbers on the clock mock you. 

You really have to wake up early.

Deku

“Are you serious, Izuku?” 

The tall hero jumps, eyes widening almost comically when he realizes you’re standing on the bedroom’s doorway and not cleaning the kitchen, like he clearly assumed you to be. 

“I wasn’t- The phone-” he stammers with his words, plowing your phone onto the bed with a bit too much force.

Crossing your arms, you flash him a frustrated glare.

“You promised me you wouldn’t spy on my phone anymore, Izuku.” your stern tone has him frowning and Izuku practically sprints closer to you.

“I wasn’t spying! I was just- just checking the time.” his words aren’t convincing enough for you to actually believe in him. 

You squint your eyes at him, dodging his grabby hands with a nasty slap, despite the hurt expression on his face.

“Izuku.” 

“I wasn’t! C’mon, you gotta believe in me.” 

You don’t. 

“Even if I did go through your phone - which I didn’t - why would that be such a problem?” he complains, dragging his voice. “Do you have something to hide or what?”

You point a warning finger at him.

“Don’t you dare. This isn’t about me. You’re the one who went behind my back because you’re just too insecure to fully trust me.”

He shakes his head, emerald eyes turning feverish. 

“You’re being dramatic, of course I trust you.”

“You don’t, stop lying.”

“I do trust you!” his voice rises in volume.

“No, you don’t!” you scream, voice breaking before you crumble in tears. 

You’re exhausted. Of arguing, of dealing with Izuku, of everything. When did things turn so frustrating, so tiring? Why does he always have to ruin things for you?

Izuku curses under his breath before rushing to you, engulfing you in a comforting embrace as you cry on his chest. 

“You don’t. You never will and I know that.” he stays silent, not contradicting you this time. 

He lets you cry on his chest, his hand gently caressing your hair as he mutters apologies. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” Izuku hugs you harder, arms tightening around you. “I’ll do better, okay? I promise, I will.” 

And like a fool, you accept his promise - even if you know it’s meant to be broken.

[ailithnight]

DPxDC Prompt #10

Danny; baby Ancient of Space, Ward of Time, Infinite Prince, Dream Coda; as if he wasn't OP enough, has begun having prophetic dreams.

Sometimes they're about imminent deaths, sometimes it's deep secrets never intended to see the light of day, sometimes it's spoilers to various popular media, and a lot of times just random crap like 'it's gonna start raining at 2:23pm' or 'there will be a friendly cat on the way to school.'

Fortunately for Danny, he doesn't really remember most of his dreams. He just carries on with his life as usual and possibly doesn't even know these dreams are happening. He doesn't have to deal with the normal trauma or anxiety most prophets live with.

Unfortunately for the people around him, he's prone to sleep walking and sleep talking.

It's more than a little unnerving when you wake up in the middle of the night and your newest brother is just there. You didn't hear him come in. Which should be impossible, and yet he did it literally in his sleep. He says "He doesn't have enough eggs for pancakes." Then faceplants into your bed to return to deep slumber.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Reference: Food History

B.C.

10,000 - almonds, cherries, bread, flour, soup

8,000 - wheat ⚜ 7,000 - wine, beer, pistachios, pig, goat, sheep, lard

6,500 - cattle domestication, apples ⚜ 6,000 - tortilla, dates, maize

5,000 - honey, ginger, quinoa, avocados, potatoes, milk, yogurt

4,000 - focaccia, watermelons, grapes, pomegranates

3,200 - chicken domestication ⚜ 3,000 - butter, onion, garlic, apricots

2,737 - tea ⚜ 2,500 - olive oil, seaweed, duck ⚜ 2,300 - saffron

2,000 - peaches, liquorice, marshmallow, pasta, ham, sesame seeds

1,500 - chocolate, vanilla ⚜ 1,200 - sugar ⚜ 1,000 - mangoes, oats, pickles

900 - pears, tomatoes ⚜ 700 - cinnamon ⚜ 600 - bananas, poppy seeds

500 - artichokes ⚜ 400 - pastries, appetizers, vinegar

300 - parsley ⚜ 200 - turkeys, asparagus, rhubarb ⚜ 65 - quince

1st—13th Century

1st Century - chestnuts, lobster, crab, shrimp, truffles, blueberries, raspberries, capers, kale, blood (as food), fried chicken, foie gras, French toast, omelettes, rice pudding, flan, cheesecake, pears in syrup

3rd Century - lemons ⚜ 5th - pretzels ⚜ 6th - eggplant

7th Century - spinach, kimchi ⚜ 9th - coffee, nutmeg

10th Century - flower waters, Peking duck, shark's fin soup

11th Century - baklava, corned beef, cider, lychees, seitan

12th Century - breadfruit, artichokes, gooseberries

13th Century - ravioli, lasagne, mozzarella, pancakes, waffles, couscous

14th—19th Century

14th Century - kebabs, moon cakes, guacamole, pie, apple pie, crumpets, gingerbread

15th Century - coconuts, Japanese sushi and sashimi, pineapples, marmalade, risotto, marzipan, doughnuts, hot dogs

16th Century - pecans, cashews (in India), Japanese tempura, vanilla (in Europe), fruit leather, skim milk, sweetbreads, salsa, quiche, teriyaki chicken, English trifle, potato salad

17th Century - treacle, pralines, coffee cake, modern ice cream, maple sugar, rum, French onion soup, cream puffs, bagels, pumpkin pie, lemonade, croissants, lemon meringue pie

18th Century - root beer, tapioca, French fries, ketchup, casseroles, mayonnaise, eggnog, soda water, lollipops, sangria, muffins, crackers, chowder, croquettes, cupcakes, sandwiches, apple butter, souffle, deviled eggs

19th Century - toffee, butterscotch, cocoa, Turkish delight, iodized salt, vanilla extract, modern marshmallows, potato chips, fish and chips, breakfast cereal, Tabasco sauce, Kobe beef, margarine, unsalted butter, Graham crackers, fondant, passionfruit, saltwater taffy, milkshakes, pizza, peanut butter, tea bags, cotton candy, jelly beans, candy corn, elbow macaroni, fondue, wedding cake, canapes, gumbo, ginger ale, carrot cake, bouillabaisse, cobbler, peanut brittle, pesto, baked Alaska, iced tea, fruit salad, fudge, eggs Benedict, Waldorf salad

20th Century

1901 - peanut butter and jelly ⚜ 1904 - banana splits ⚜ 1905 - NY pizza

1906 - brownies, onion rings ⚜ 1907 - aioli

1908 - Steak Diane, buttercream frosting ⚜ 1909 - shrimp cocktail

1910 - Jell-O (America's most famous dessert)

1910s - orange juice ⚜ 1912 - Oreos, maraschino cherries, fortune cookies

1912 - Chicken a la King, Thousand Island dressing

1914 - Fettuccine Alfredo ⚜ 1915 - hush puppies

1917 - marshmallow fluff ⚜ 1921 - Wonder Bread, zucchini

1919 - chocolate truffles ⚜ 1922 - Vegemite, Girl Scout cookies

1923 - popsicles ⚜ 1924 - frozen foods, pineapple upside-down cake, Caesar salad, chocolate-covered potato chips

1927 - Kool-Aid, s'mores, mayonnaise cake ⚜ 1929 - Twizzlers

1930s - Pavlova cakes, Philly cheese steak, Pigs in blankets, margaritas, banana bread, Cajun fried turkey ⚜ 1931 - souffle, refrigerator pie

1933 - chocolate covered pretzels ⚜ 1936 - no-bake cookies

1937 - Reubens, chicken Kiev, SPAM, Krispy Kreme

1938 - chicken and waffles ⚜ 1939 - seedless watermelon

1941 - Rice Krispies treats, Monte Cristo sandwiches ⚜ 1943 - nachos

1946 - chicken burgers, tuna melts, Nutella ⚜ 1947- chiffon cake

1950s - chicken parm, Irish coffee, cappuccino, smoothies, frozen pizza, diet soda, TV Dinners, ranch dressing ⚜ 1951 - bananas foster

1953 - coronation chicken ⚜ 1956 - German chocolate cake, panini

1957 - Quebec Poutine ⚜ 1958 - Instant ramen noodles, crab rangoon, lemon bars ⚜ 1960s - beef Wellington, green eggs and ham, red velvet cake

1963 - black forest cake ⚜ 1964 - Belgian waffles, Pop Tarts, Buffalo wings, ants on a log, pita bread ⚜ 1965 - Gatorade, Slurpees

1966 - chocolate fondue ⚜ 1967 - high fructose corn syrup

1970s - California rolls, pasta primavera, tiramisu ⚜ 1971 - fajitas

1975 - hicken tikka masala ⚜ 1980 - turducken

1980s - Panko, portobello mushrooms, bubble tea, chicken nuggets, Sriracha, Red Bull energy drink, everything bagels

1990s - artisan breads, Jamaican jerk ⚜ 1991 - turkey bacon, chocolate molten lava cake, earthquake cake ⚜ 1993 - broccolini

1995 - Tofurkey ⚜ 1997 - grape tomatoes

21st Century

2002 - flat iron steak, tear-free onions ⚜ 2007 - Kool-Aid pickles, cake pops

2008 - Mexican funnel cake ⚜ 2013 - cronuts, test tube burgers

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[blorbocedes]

so uhh how about that hulkenleto sugarbaby au?

hehe, gabi/hulk, stripper au... max is disney princess anora. inspired heavily by this

Max assesses him with a clinical gaze. Tall, long legs with a gazelle beauty, most importantly young, and can put on an attitude. Some Johns will smack you in the face for that. Others pay extra to get findommed.

Gabriel is one of Max's protégés, his ducklings. Now that Max parades around with a gawking 10-carat diamond on his finger and is about to retire from the club to be with his mysterious and loaded 'baldie,' he has a frankly expansive client list to dump. He used to be one of the youngest starting out and now, at 27, he feels like their mother with all these fresh young things joining.

Kimi was offloaded to Torger, a billionaire who had been relentlessly after Max for years and was happy to sink his claws into their youngest addition. Max would feel bad if he didn't know how generously Toto tipped his favourites, Kimi would be set for life very shortly, and he took a certain amount of pleasure taking him away from that coked out thin skank, Russell -- who, word was through the grapevines, was so desperate to keep Toto interested he offered barebacking.

The hefty American Zak liked to watch waifish pale twinks who could pass for brothers tongue over the swell of his gut, so Lando and Oscar were his under exclusivity; although Oscar's personal pimp Mark always kept a possessive, eternally cuckolded eye on him.

Ollie seemed to be trying for the Italian club Charles made his name and fortune. They did like a pretty face there.

That left Gabriel. At first Max brought him to Helmut, a truly revolting, barely alive, decrepit old man. Max was loyal to him for essentially starting his career but he took one look at Gabriel from his glass eye and said, "Max, you've brought me a Grade B whore."

Gabriel can't help running his mouth. "I wouldn't be collecting sins on my deathbed, if I were you, velho safado."

Max winced, before dragging him away.

That's how Gabriel ended up with Nico difficult to pronounce German last name. Hülkenberg. The club is Fernando's, who is a success story himself -- landed himself a shark by the name of Flavio Briatore who would do anything for him, no matter the legality. Fernando likes Gabi, or else he would've been fired for speaking to clients the way he does.

'Be nice, play into the girlfriend experience. He's handsome so a lot of the girls let him get far for free, you'll have to penny pinch it out of him.' Max warned.

And compared to the usual greasy, pot-bellied clients Nico was handsome. Blond, tall -- taller than Gabi -- with a relatively intact hairline for a man approaching his 40s, relatively fit.

"What present have you brought me, little pancake?" Nico wolf-whistled, addressing Max but eyeing Gabriel.

"This is Bubbles." Max introduced him, with his stripper name.

One dance and he has him, hook line and sinker. Gabi is graceful than a lot of the taller dancers, having done ballet in his youth. When he worked his way around the pole in his heels, spin then a split, asking Nico to bite the ribbon of his corset and watch it come undone -- seeing his pupils go dark in real time, he knew he had it.

"Should we go somewhere private?" Nico asked, voice husky but clearly familiar with the proceedings. Gabriel took his meal ticket to the velvet purple room, paid for by the hour.

"Such a small neck," Nico murmured appreciatively against the sensitive small hairs of his neck, sniffing it while Gabi sat on his lap. He could feel Nico hardening under him, pushing against his ass. Gabi grinds back in slow, teasing circles. It's big, proportionate to a big man's size. Sometimes larger men have smaller digits, and have to buy sex to overcompensate. If he's rich, reasonably sized, and handsome then there must be something really wrong about him.

"You're going to love Ibiza. It's going to be Ka-put." Nico was babbling some nonsense about flying Gabriel out, like he's some wide-eyed virgin who buys any nice story Johns tell him.

"Old man," Gabi rolled his eyes. "No money, no touch. Old enough to be my fucking grandfather." He threatens to get off Nico's lap, scoot on the loveseat they're on.

Nico huffs a laugh at that. It's not even true. Old enough to be his father, maybe. He stuffs a wad of cash in the string of Gabi's panties, and pulls him back on his lap, cock grinding onto him making his intentions known. "You're so bubbly. Feisty. I like it."

Gabriel closes his eyes and counts to ten. Then he starts giving Nico his hours' worth.

[nagaytoe]

Nativitas Domini

(noun) [Latin] Lord's birth

Jericho Ichabod X Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Requests: open

Note: Me writing something that's not Sol X Reader?! And it's fluff on top of that?! (I have actually never written fluff before if i recall correctly)

Unbelievable... Enjoy this Christmas special though, y'all (even though it's a tad bit late but better late than never, am I right?) and apologies for not having posted any one shot in three weeks (I was in a bad writing slump)

I initially wanted to make this another angst but I was too in love with the fluff, I couldn't bring myself to destroy that...

“My Love, wake up.”

A soft voice woke you from your deep slumber. You opened your eyes slowly, blinking away the remnants of sleep still clearly visible in your gaze.

“Crowe?”

You opened your eyes fully to reveal your lover's silhouette in front of the window, shielding your eyes from direct sunlight.

“Have you slept well?” Crowe brushed your hair out of your face and behind your ear. His gaze was full of love and admiration, as if you were the most precious gem, the most beautiful being he has ever laid eyes on. You hummed in quiet agreement and he chuckled.

“That’s good, that’s good. We still have quite some things planned for today, remember?”

You pondered for a moment, gathering your thoughts, since your mind was still foggy from sleep. Another quiet chuckle snapped you out of your thoughts as a hand was placed on the top of your head, ruffling your hair.

“We wanted to go shopping for presents, then bake some cookies and then go to Jess’ and Brittney's place to celebrate with the others. It’s already 10 am, it might be better if we get started soon.”

You slowly sat up on the bed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and yawning.

“I already made breakfast, the only missing piece at the table is you.” Crowe stretched out his hand towards you, a gentle smile playing on his lips. You looked at him for a moment, unable to believe that he is actually here with you, by your side. Taking his hand and nodding, Crowe helped you get out of the bed and the two of you walked towards the kitchen together.

The smell of pancakes and orange juice invaded your senses and you soon saw what Crowe had prepared for you. The table was set for two people, in the middle of the round surface was a plate, soft and thick pancakes stacked on top of it. Next to it was a juice pitcher, filled with your favorite juice. However, these weren't the only things on the table. A big bouquet with the most colorful flowers was placed next to your plate and cutlery.

You let out a soft gasp, looking over at Crowe with a wide smile, your eyes glistening.

“Crowe…they are beautiful…”

Walking up behind you and wrapping his arm around your waist, Crowe pressed a kiss on the crown of your hair. “They are no match for you though…”

You giggled softly in response and leant into Crowe's embrace.

“I love them, Crowe, thank you so much…”

The bouquet truly was beautiful. Purple calla lilies, white baby’s breaths and blue agapanthuses. The colors reminded you of Crowe, with his blue eyes and usual purple attire.

Crowe pulled your chair back, gesturing for you to sit down. Right after you sat down he moved around the table, sitting down in front of you. You loved mornings like these, even when the sun was absent they were filled with warmth. It was domestic. It was real. Sometimes you couldn't quite believe your luck. How were you fortunate enough to end up with someone like Jericho?

“[____]?”

You were snapped out of your thoughts by your lover's voice. Looking up, you saw him smiling at you with admiration and a hint of amusement in his eyes. His arm was propped up on the table, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand.

“What are you thinking about, Love?”

A warm feeling spread through your chest. You were still crushing on him as hard as on the first day. His words, his voice, his personality, his looks… Everything about him was perfect.

“I'm just… thinking about how lucky I am to be with you.”

A swift look of surprise brushed over Crowe's features before he smiled brighter than before. He reached over the table, taking your hand into his bigger, warmer one. “I am the lucky one, my Starlight.”

Swooning at his words, you realized that he had pretty much ruined you for everyone else, Crowe had you on the hook. You doubted that you could ever love someone like you loved him, but then again, you didn't plan to either.

You gave him a sweet smile and he let go of your hand after a few beats, gesturing for you to fill your plate with the pancakes he had prepared. He did this pretty often, surprising you with self-made breakfast, yet you fell head over heels for him over and over again, no matter how often he did it.

Reaching over with knife and fork, you took two pancakes off the pile, filling your plate with them. As soon as you took a bite you perked up. “Crowe, they taste amazing, did you change the recipe up?”

The pancakes were fluffy and sweet, even sweeter than usually. “Just a tad bit. I know that you have kind of a sweet tooth, so I added a bit more sugar.”

You weren't sure what was sweeter, your boyfriend or the sugar he added.

He was probably sweeter, even though he didn't have much of a sweet tooth himself. That brought up another question, however.

“What about you though? You aren't that fond of too much sugar.”

“I can handle a bit more sweetness in my pancakes. After all, I handle you everyday and you are by far sweeter than any pancake I could ever make.”

You had to suppress a grin at that. He could be so cheesy sometimes.

Time seemed to pass way too fast, it felt like the two of you finished breakfast in no time.

“I'll clean up, you can get ready in the meantime, Darling” Crowe took his and your plate and brought them to the kitchen sink. Thanking him, you stood up and you made your way to your shared bedroom to get dressed. You took a look out the window, snow was painting the world in a pure, innocent shade of white and created a calm, serene image. Perhaps Crowe and you can build a snowman later if you have enough time.

Walking up to the closet, you were pondering on what to wear. Crowe was wearing a purple sweater and black slacks, perhaps you could put on a matching outfit. After all, he loved when the two of you wore matching outfits.

You took a pair of black pants out of your closet, before looking for a purple sweater. You had one, albeit the color being a bit lighter, it would have to do.

The colors purple and blue had a special spot in your heart, every time you saw them, you were reminded of Crowe.

He was everywhere, his essence in everything.

The night sky, the ocean, the flowers in your garden during the warmer seasons and the bouquet he gave you this morning, even in your closet you found these colors more present than before.

You walked into the narrow hallway, painted dark red with a birch wood floor, to see Crowe was already putting on his shoes, sitting on the bench near the door. As soon as he was finished and laid eyes on you, he couldn't help but chuckle. “I feel like I have seen that outfit before somewhere…” He walked up to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you to his chest. “I love you so much, you know that?” He leant down to press a kiss to your forehead, before wrapping both arms around you in a loving embrace. “I love you too, Jericho… More than words can ever describe…”

Crowe pulled back to look at you and raised his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb gently stroking over the soft skin. Before you met him, you didn't know that it was humanly possible to look at someone the way he looked at you, but he proved to you that it indeed was possible and even if it wasn't, he would make it possible.

His bright blue eyes were filled with so much love, you couldn't begin to comprehend just how much love he felt for you.

Your face was gently pulled closer to his by the hand holding your cheek, his own face moving closer at the same time, before your lips met in a sweet kiss. It was an attempt at expressing your feelings for each other, but this universal act of love could only scratch the surface of what truly laid beneath your exteriors. Beneath all that skin, bone and flesh laid a love so profound, it almost made your hearts burst.

Crowe pulled back eventually, but you didn't leave his embrace without him planting another kiss on your forehead. He turned to take your black coat off the hanger and helped you put it on in his usual gentleman-like fashion. While he was looking for something in the hallway's dresser you were putting on your boots. The coat you were currently wearing matched his perfectly well, only your boots weren't matching - his being dark brown and yours being black - but you weren't going to nit-pick every small detail. Crowe stood in front of you again, a purple scarf in his hands. “It's cold outside, my Love, you'll need this.” His voice was as soft and caring as always, while he gently wrapped the scarf around your neck.

Opening the front door, Crowe gestured for you to walk outside before him. He followed close behind, taking your hand in his as he left the house with you and closed the door behind him. As you made your way towards the shopping center, the snow crunched under your boots, accentuating every step.

Despite the thick clothes you were wearing, which engulfed you in a comfortable warmth, the cool december breeze made you shiver. The coldness was slowly biting away at your skin and you tried your best to bury your face in your scarf, though it didn’t help with warming your face as much as you had hoped. Crowe squeezed your hand at this, trying to reassure you. “Don't worry, my Love, we'll be there in no time.”

The walk to the shopping center was peaceful, you walked by multiple groups of children who were building a snowman or having snowball fights. Looking around, you found everything to be covered in thick, white snow, giving the usually dull surroundings an almost magical feeling. It might be cold right now, but at least it was beautiful outside.

The mall wasn’t too far either, luckily. In this type of weather it was going to take around fifteen minutes to reach it, which felt like fifteen seconds in Crowe’s presence. That was one of the many things you loved about him. Any task, any situation, no matter how daunting or boring they may be, they seemed way easier to conquer with Crowe by your side.

The mall was bustling with life, chatter and laughter everywhere. Christmas tunes played from every corner and matching decorations were hung up everywhere. However, the highlight was the 30 feet tall christmas tree in the middle of the mall, cladded with different types of ornaments, ranging from fairy lights and tinsel to brightly colored baubles and little angels hanging from the branches.

“Whose present should we get first?”

You pondered for a moment at Crowe's question, “Jess. I already have something for her.”

Crowe quirked his eyebrow at that. “Lead the way then.”

You tugged Crowe along with you, leading him to a record store. “You know how Jess is absolutely obsessed with Eries, right?”, You looked up at him, feeling a little silly for asking this as you realized that he obviously knows, since he was the one who told you that information in the first place, “Of course you do…Anyways, I was thinking about getting her a vinyl record.”

“Does she even have a record player?”

You shook your head, “Nope, but knowing her, she wouldn’t play the record anyways, however, she would hang it up on the wall for everyone to see, just like her other prized possessions.”

“Are you sure she doesn’t have it already though? She’s one of his biggest fans after all, I kind of doubt that she doesn’t have all his merchandise by now.” Crowe’s question was a valid one, you haven’t told him that piece of information yet, since it was more of an impulsive decision. “I know that she doesn’t have it, she told me herself. See, we were talking about this special edition record of Eries newest album coming out and when the presale was happening, she didn’t manage to get a copy. I, however, did.”

Crowe furrowed his eyebrows at your explanation, still not getting the full picture, “Why did you try to obtain a copy in the first place? As far as I know, you’re not one of his fangirls.”

“Well, I thought it would make a nice present if she didn’t manage to get a copy. And if she had managed to get a copy I would have given it to another friend of mine, who likes Eries as well, but isn’t big enough of a fan to buy limited edition stuff.”

“You had a full-on masterplan, huh?”

You nodded eagerly at his reply, “All that’s left to do is to pick up the copy from the record shop.”

Tugging your boyfriend through the crowd, you weasel your way towards the record store. As soon as you arrived you were met with seemingly endless rows of shelves, packed to the brim with colorful records and the speakers faintly playing a Christmas song.

“By the way, how much was that record?”

You gave Crowe a side-eye, before averting your gaze as you walked towards the register. “Way too much…”, you muttered under your breath before clearing your throat. “But Jess is an amazing friend…I’m sure she’ll love this present!”

Crowe shook his head in disbelief with an airy laugh, “I’m sure she will, but I would still like to know how much that record was, you know? After all, we did agree on splitting the costs for the presents in half.”

You mumbled a response under your breath, incoherent to Crowe’s ears. When he asked again, your response was still quiet, but he heard your answer at last, “Sixty-five bucks…”

Crowe’s bright blue eyes widened a little in surprise, which is why you decided to quickly reassure him, “I know it’s a lot, that’s why the record will be on me, you don’t have to pay half the price-”

“Nonsense, I’ll pay half the price, just like we agreed, don’t worry about it, my Love” He cut you off, holding his hand up in the air to stop your rambling. You gave him a soft smile, your face a little flushed as you muttered a small “Thank you”, fully aware that debating with him on this matter will get you nowhere.

After informing the employee at the register about the order you wanted to pick up, he went to the back and swiftly returned with it, handing the record to you with a sweet smile.

Crowe wrapped his arm around your waist, an innocent gesture, though a hint of jealousy laced it. You were his partner after all, he should -and would- let the whole world know how lucky he got, even if this poor employee probably didn’t have any ulterior motives behind his smile and wave good-bye.

“How about we get Brittney’s present next?” Crowe asked, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as the two of you made your way out of the record store. You nodded, thinking back to all the times Brit told you something related to her interests.

“Do you already have something in mind?”, Crowe asked as he scanned your contemplating expression. You slowly nodded, “Yeah… she mentioned something about this skin care set she thought about getting. It’s a bit pricey, though…”

Crowe smiled softly at you, letting go of your hand and stroking the back of your head softly. “Don’t worry about it, my Love. If something is out of your budget I don’t mind paying more than half the price or entirely for the present.”

Your head snapped towards him as you immediately protested, “No way in hell am I gonna let you pay for everything yourself, that wouldn’t be fair at all!”

Your boyfriend could only chuckle in response, shaking his head lightly, “Whatever you say, Love…”

The two of you made your way towards the mall’s beauty store, Crowe’s hand tightly holding your own, almost as if he was afraid you would be swept away by the crowd of people present. It didn’t take long for you to find the skin care set Brittney told you about, despite the shelves being lined with all kinds of beauty products, ranging from perfume to high-end makeup products. Albeit the fairly high price the set was almost sold out and you barely managed to grab one of the last boxes.

The store was filled to the brim with teenage girls and husbands with their wives, all of them trying to find last minute presents for their loved ones. Thus, Crowe and you had to wait quite some time at the register, however, time always seemed to pass in the blink of an eye whenever he was with you.

“By the way, what should we get Deryl?”

You looked up at Crowe, waiting for a response as he pondered for a moment.

“Well, he loves football and sweets… though I believe you know as much about football as I do, which is practically nothing at all.”, Crowe chuckled slightly and of course he was right, both of you barely had any knowledge about football.

“Then sweets it is, we just have to hope that he eats them in private and not at the party, unless we want him bouncing off the walls-” You cut yourself off with a gasp as an idea hit you, “How about one of these international sweets boxes? As far as I know there is a shop here which sells sweets from all around the world. I believe that would make a great present for Deryl!”

Your boyfriend smiled gently at you as he responded, “Great thinking, let’s go there once we’re finished here.”

Crowe and you checked out at the register and made your way towards the sweets store shortly after.

The sweets store was probably the most colorful shop in the entire shopping center, the walls were painted in bright colors and even the tiles on the floor were practically glowing in neon hues. The shelves were lined with all kinds of sweets, all of them wrapped in bright packaging and sorted into different aisles depending on which country they’re from.

“Is there anything specific Deryl likes?” Crowe shook his head in response, thus you took it upon yourself to search for tasty-looking sweets, hooking a shopping basket on your arm.

You were able to fill the basket in no time with all different types of sweets; savory ones, sour ones and just classical sweet ones.

“Those are quite a lot of sweets… it might be better to give him this when we are about to leave…”

You raised an eyebrow at Crowe’s suggestion, “And leave the others with the mess of a Deryl who is high on sugar?”

He smirked smugly at you in reply and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his antics.

The two of you wrapped up at the sweets store not long after, walking out with two shopping bags in your right hand, one containing Brittney’s and one Jess’ present, and a big box of sweets for Deryl tucked away under Crowe’s left arm.

“We still need to get a present for Geo, do you have any idea what we could get him? It’s not like that guy is an open book when it comes to anything regarding him personally…”

“I already have something in mind for Geo, don’t worry.”

Your eyes widen ever so slightly in surprise at Crowe’s declaration.

“Follow me.”, He took your free hand in his, making his way through the crowd and leading you to the mall’s exit.

Curious as to where Crowe was taking you, you couldn’t help but ask him, “Where are we going, Crowe?”

“To the box office, it’s on the way home anyways.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at his response, but decided not to dwell on it. You would see what Crowe is up to soon enough, since the box office was pretty close to the mall.

As you left the shopping center, the coldness engulfed you in an icy embrace, stinging at your flesh. You immediately missed the comforting warmth of the shopping center, even if the atmosphere was chaotic. The only source of warmth you now had were your thick clothes and the warmth of your boyfriend’s soft hand, but all this didn’t do much to keep you from shivering.

After what felt like an eternity out in the harsh coldness of December, you finally reached the box office.

Crowe leant a little towards the cashier as he spoke his request, “I’d like to buy a gift voucher for 75 dollars, please.”

You lifted your eyebrows up slightly, before nudging him softly with your elbow while the employee was preparing the voucher. “I would have thought that you were gonna give him a present that’s more… personal.” Crowe looked at you for a moment, processing your words.

“Well, he’s not the type to be against vouchers as a gift, in fact, he thinks it’s the best type of present to give to someone; if it’s required to give them something, that is.”

“I guess that makes sense for him… he doesn’t seem like the type to give others personalized presents… or any at all, to be honest…”

Crowe couldn’t help but chuckle at your reply, “Yeah, he finds it to be the most practical type of present and I am not going to disagree with him on that, I get where he’s coming from.”

You nodded in silent agreement as the employee finished wrapping up the voucher, handing it to Crowe, who gave him the required amount of cash in exchange, before bidding goodbye and putting the envelope containing the voucher into one of the bags you were carrying.

“What time is it?”

Crowe took a look at the watch on his wrist, “1 pm. The party starts at 4.30, therefore we still have some time to get everything ready.”

Your boyfriend gave your hand a small squeeze and smiled warmly at you. This was almost enough to make you forget about the crisp cold air surrounding you, emphasis on almost. You were walking at a faster pace than usually, desperate to get home as quickly as possible.

Luckily, you soon saw the row houses on your street, one of them being the one you and Crowe resided in. The two of you moved in together after a year of dating, deeming it safer for the both of you - well, mostly for you. He insisted that you move into the townhouse he rented with him, considering it a safer option than the apartment you previously called your home. Of course, he was right, this part of town was much safer and if something were to happen, he would be there to protect you.

The houses were made of brownstone and not much bigger than your old apartment, though it was still nice to have a bit more space available, not to mention the tiny garden at the back - something your previous home lacked entirely.

Speed-walking towards the dark green front door, you ushered Crowe to unlock the door, who chuckled in response to your antics. What may have been annoying to anyone else, he found endearing. To him, you could hardly do any wrong, you were perfect, perfect for him.

You were greeted by the familiar smell of your home and the comforting warmth it provided. Taking off your boots and coat you turned to face Crowe, “Ready to bake some cookies?”

The kitchen was small, but it was big enough for the two of you. The counter, made of ebony and an oak countertop, formed a U-shape, lining all walls except for the one with the door. A big window overlooking the garden was above the kitchen sink and opposite of the door. Some potted plants hung from the ceiling, giving the room a rural feeling.

You walked to the kitchen cabinet and whipped out every required ingredient and equipment.

“Did you decide on which type of cookies we are baking?” Crowe entered the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater, revealing his toned lower arms.

“I was thinking we could bake some good old chocolate chip cookies, how does that sound?”

Crowe cracked a grin at that. Chocolate chips were his favourite and you knew that all too well.

“I’m definitely not opposed to that suggestion.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him, “Of course you are not.”

You ordered Crowe to weigh the ingredients while you took care of mixing everything, the dough soon being finished. The moment you turned your back to grab a scissor for the package of chocolate chunks, Crowe grabbed a spoon from the kitchen drawer and tried some of the cookie dough.

“No snacking on the cookie dough, Crowe.”, you turned around to find your boyfriend frowning at you, causing a little laugh of yours to break free.

“Mind you, I was taste-testing.”

You shook your head at his answer, but at the same time you were endeared. Crowe was usually this composed, mature gentleman, but around you he could unleash a more childish side of him, one he didn’t show anyone else. Coming from him, this was a huge sign of trust, a privilege he didn't grant just anyone.

Right after you mixed the chocolate chunks into the cookie dough, you took small scoops and placed them onto the tray Crowe got ready for you. Once you were finished with placing small piles of dough, your boyfriend took the tray from you and put it in the oven.

“Now that the cookies are in the oven, what should we do in the meantime? Wrap the presents?” Crowe asked while wiping the surface of the countertop with a wet cloth. You pondered for a moment, recalling the children you saw on your way to the mall and pointed towards the window overlooking the garden

“I have a better idea… See all that snow? How about we build a snowman?”

Looking at him, your eyes glistened with hope and he smiled brightly at you, an indescribable amount of love in his gaze.

You definitely were perfect for him.

“Of course we can, Love, but weren’t you the one freezing outside earlier today?”

He just couldn’t help but tease you a little every now and then.

“That was different. I can handle the coldness if it means I get to feel like a kid again.”, you argued, a lop-sided smile gracing your features.

“Touché.”

With a pep in your step you went back into the hallway to grab both of your boots and coats, along with a pair of gloves for each of you. You swiftly returned to the kitchen and walked through the doorway into the living room, straight towards the back door, handing Crowe his clothes, before putting on your own coat and boots.

No five minutes later were the two of you out in the freezing cold. You already got to work, making a little snowball and rolling it around on the ground, your gloves doing very little to keep the snow’s iciness away from your skin, though you couldn’t care less right now.

The garden was small, surrounded by high bushes, which were painted white by the snow just like the ground was. The big apple tree at the very back already lost all its leaves weeks ago and the flowers you usually kept were long gone.

Crowe joined you, rolling his own snowball on the ground and turning to you for a moment, “I take it that you want to be in charge of the big snowball at the bottom?”

Looking over at him with a smile you nod eagerly, earning you his warm signature smile in return.

The two of you kept rolling the snowballs around, which were getting bigger and bigger by the minute, until they finally had a size you were satisfied with. Crowe placed his slightly smaller snowball on your bigger one, going off to find some sticks to use as arms right after while you were busy making the head. Once you were finished and placed the third and smallest snowball on top of the other two, Crowe returned with some sticks and a couple of small rocks.

Handing you the two biggest sticks, you took them and placed one on either side of the snowmans upper body and some smaller branches on the top of his head. You took three small stones out of Crowe’s palm and placed them in a vertical row on the snowman's upper body.

“By the way, do we have a carrot laying around?”

“I think so… let me take a look.” Crowe handed you the rocks and turned around, walking back inside. In the meantime, you took two rocks and placed them where you thought the snowman's eyes might be and used the leftover stones to give the snowman a smile. Crowe eventually returned, a carrot in his hand. “There you go, finish the job.”

You side-eyed him, processing his words, “You’re saying this as if I’m assassinating this poor snowman…”

Your boyfriend chuckled in response as you added the final detail to your snowman.

Suddenly, an alarm went off.

“Ah! The cookies are ready. Just in time…” Crowe turned off the alarm on his phone and took your hand in his as the two of you made your way back inside.

Once back in the kitchen, the two of you took off your boots, coats and gloves. Crowe took out the tray with cookies while you carried the clothes back into the hallway, hanging the coats back on their hangers, placing the boots on the mat next to the front door and the gloves back into the dresser.

The smell of fresh cookies invaded your nostrils and you could feel your mouth watering, causing you to swiftly return to the kitchen.

“It smells so good in here!” You entered the kitchen, causing Crowe to turn away from you quickly, making you stop in your tracks, “Wait… are you eating one of the cookies?”

“...No…” Crowe was trying his best to not sound like he was talking with a full mouth, but failed miserably.

“You are!” You could hear Crowe swallowing before turning back to face you, trying to defend himself, “I had to do a taste test…”

You take one cookie from the tray, studying it a little. Judging by the looks of it, those cookies turned out amazing.

“Firstly, you already did one with the raw cookie dough and secondly, I highly doubt that one was necessary…Though, I might do one as well. You know, two tongues can taste more than one, or something like that.” Putting the cookie in your mouth, you can almost hear your taste buds singing Hallelujah, your eyes widening as you let the warm, sweet taste of chocolate chip melt on your tongue.

“Oh my…these cookies are perfect!”

Crowe nodded in agreement with a grin on his face as he watched your fond expression, before looking at his watch, “It’s 2.20 pm, we have about two hours until the party, any ideas what should we do until then?”

You thought for a moment before a smug smirk crawled onto your face.

“Don’t tell me-”

You cut off your boyfriend, “Let’s watch a Christmas movie!”

“We still need to wrap the presents, my Love” , Crowe pointed out, but you quickly shot down his argument.

“We can do that while watching the movie. It’s not like we have tons of presents to wrap anyways.”

Crowe sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose, though more in a playful fashion, before nodding slowly.

“Alright, let’s watch a Christmas movie then.”

You immediately made your way towards the living room, the walls were painted a light blue shade and lined with tons of shelves, the floor was birch wood, just like the hallway. Sitting down on the soft, dark blue couch and grabbing the remote, you made yourself comfortable, nuzzling against one of the couch’s cushions. While you were busy picking out a movie, Crowe grabbed some wrapping paper, as well as the presents for your friends, and carried them towards the living room, setting everything down on the oak coffee table in front of the couch.

He sat down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer as you put on your favorite christmas movie. You shuffled closer to him, basking in the warmth Crowe radiated, not just emotionally but also physically. No matter how tough times might get, next to him any problem ceased to exist, if only for the moment and you could swear your love for him was growing more and more the longer you were together.

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you couldn’t help but feel giddy for tonight, looking forward to spending time with all the people who grew on you so much during your years at university.

Were you to look out the window, you’d catch the snowman smiling at you, the snow which was currently falling from the sky accumulating on his carrot nose.

Everything was perfect, you were exactly where you were always meant to be and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Angstober (day 18)

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Reader

Prompt: Falling Stars

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Two idiots not being able to confess their feelings; sad!Bucky, sad!Reader; Bucky is a playboy; hurt myself with this

Angstober Masterlist

You wince at the sharp clinking of your keys as you turn the right one in the deadbolt of your front door. It echoes around you, sounding in the hallway, way too loud for this hour.

You hadn’t intended for it to get this late. But Wanda had been bubbling over with stories about this new guy she was crushing on, Vision, and Nat just couldn’t resist tossing in sly jokes about his name every few minutes.

Also, there’s that something you have to talk about with Bucky. That something you’ve been trying to work up courage for to finally tell him. But you rather spend your time with distracting yourself.

So, you’re not that surprised that the planned girls' night out stretched far after midnight.

Fortunately, you’d kept yourself in check with the drinks, just enough to stay warm but not enough to make the way home fuzzy. You’re grateful you’ve got nothing to do tomorrow, besides perhaps a bit laundry, as you feel the tiredness creep in. Slipping off your shoes with a quiet sigh, you let the relief flood through your slightly sore feet.

The apartment is shrouded in soft shadows, and you decide against switching on any lights. The last thing you want is for that sliver of brightness to seep under Bucky’s door, disturbing his sleep. Instead, you use the wall and furniture for guidance, fingers skimming the cool wood.

Something halts you in your movements.

There is a hunched figure sitting outside on the fire escape, motionless, his silhouette outlined by the dulled glow of stars, the moon, and the city lights. You would have been scared, would have felt a shudder running down your spine, if you weren’t so familiar with the figure sitting there.

Concern replaces the tiredness in your veins and a frown pulls at your brows and twitches at the corners of your lips. What would pull Bucky out here, so late in the night, with all lights off, his gaze so intently fixed on the heavens as though he hopes for answers to questions too heavy to voice, too ingrained in his mind for you to know.

Though you have to admit to yourself, maybe you do know.

Things between Bucky and you have been distant lately, for the past few weeks. And that’s nobody’s fault but yours.

He’s been nothing but patient and kind as you’d started retreating from your usual nights spent watching movies, your late-night talks, mornings in the kitchen where you surrounded yourselves with freshly made pancakes and coffee, playing silly games as to who would find the loudest creaking floorboard of your apartment.

He noticed, and it was clear in his eyes how much it troubled him, throwing you a dim smile and a no problem doll! We’ll catch up on that later, yeah? after you gave him another excuse.

It’s not like you haven’t endured this before. Hell, you have. But it never gets easier to have sleepless and plagued nights filled with muffled sighs and moans creeping into the quiet of your room, haunting your rest, fending off nice dreams, and what hurts the most - penetrating the feelings you never planned on letting out. The misplaced feelings for your best friend that are nothing but the cause of your rising misery.

And, well, everybody has a breaking point.

It came one morning, just a few weeks ago when you left your room in hopes of covering up the bags under your eyes to find a trail of clothes scattered from the hallway to his door. His shirt and jacket tangled with something feminine and delicate - clothes they seemingly couldn’t wait to get rid of, hurriedly shedding them to leave them where they’d fallen.

It stung. God, it stung.

You were frozen, standing there and staring at the vivid remnants of the night he shared with someone else. Someone who either left with Bucky’s clothes on or was still lying there in his bed, perhaps wrapped up in his arms, relishing in the intimacy he gave so easily to others.

It hit you all at once, like a punch to your gut, your back, your face, even your legs because they felt so weak, so damn wobbly, and you thought about curling up on the floor, sinking into your sorrow, letting it wrap its arms around you if Bucky’s wouldn’t do it.

The pain was so sharp you could scarcely breathe through it, feeling it slice and tear, unraveling in your chest as each shatter of your heart was pulled in a different direction. A foreign ache pressed horribly against your ribs and you were almost too numb to feel the hot and unbidden burn of tears gathering under your lashes. You turned away, but the hurt followed.

And that’s when you decided you couldn’t keep doing this. Couldn’t keep hearing the muffled grunts and groans slipping through the walls more nights than not, the aching signs of yet another conquest tucked under his sheets. While you lie awake, barely breathing, as if being still enough would somehow make it hurt less, though it never did.

Then, after staring at the ceiling blankly even after it had gone silent, morning would inevitably come and you’d listen to Bucky usher the next girl out. He’d always keep his words polite but you hear that undertone of frustration easily crawling into his voice. It’s masked, but you hear it. You hear everything. Because he’s Bucky and you know him better than yourself.

Or that’s what you think.

You’d grown adept at reading the pauses, the tired restraint in his tone when she wants to make breakfast with him, refusing to leave. Even that barely audible sigh of relief as the door clicked shut, and the way he always stays rooted a few seconds too long before moving over to the kitchen and making you breakfast and coffee.

You only ever manage to leave your bed, trying to unhook this secret ache from your heart, when the smell of pancakes reaches you behind your door.

There was one time when Bucky couldn’t hold himself back like he usually did. You heard a girl tinker around in the kitchen through the door but weren’t in the state of mind to do something about it. But when your best friend left the bathroom to rush to the kitchen there was a loud crash, resounding around your shared space. It led to you sitting up in bed. Or perhaps you sat up because of the frustrated curses that left Bucky’s mouth.

They weren’t directed at the girl but then she started laughing, only exclaiming an oops that held a seductive tone, not sounding sorry at all for dropping something that wasn’t her own. It had been your favorite mug, you later found out.

“Alright, you need to go. Now. Come on, don’t make this difficult, I want you out.”

Bucky’s tone was clipped and tense, not necessarily raised but there was an edge to his voice you were surprised to hear. Never had he spoken to you like that before, never would you imagine he even could. And although this wasn’t at all directed at you, it surprised you nevertheless.

The girl left without a fuss.

But unfortunately, she didn’t leave with your bleeding heart. None of those girls did.

So, no you couldn’t keep doing this. And that’s when you started looking. Quietly, behind your closed door, without a word to your best friend, scrolling through endless apartment listings, combing through flatmate ads and real estate sites in search of an escape. You need distance, a new place to gather yourself and your feelings, even if that means giving up the ease and warmth of sharing a home with Bucky.

A few days ago you found a bright, little one-bedroom in Brooklyn, neat and sunlit, with a price tag that didn’t make your stomach drop. It was clean, affordable, everything you could want.

It just didn’t have Bucky.

He wouldn’t be just across the hall anymore.

No more of him, sprawled out on the couch with that boyish grin, claiming he didn’t wait for you to come home but whining when you were about to retreat to your room.

No more cozy breakfasts together with you making scrambled eggs or him making pancakes, the start of the day only just lighting up your kitchen.

No more laughing until your rips ached or sharing a blanket while trying to decipher the faded star constellations on the light-polluted night sky out on the fire escape.

No more rearranging your bookshelf in the hallway because Bucky’s nimble fingers deliberately destroyed your system once again, just so he had a reason to keep you out of your room. You never even thought about placing the shelf in your room in the first place.

And even though you haven’t yet found the courage to tell him, you know you have to. Because the appointment is set, a visit to your potential new apartment already on your calendar, and a part of you is resolved, even if it stings.

So yes, perhaps you do have an inkling of what’s weighing on Bucky’s mind tonight, might know some of the questions he’s casting into the unresponsive night sky. The thought twists inside you, pulling tight until it leaves a bitter taste at the back of your throat. The distance you built between you was never meant to hurt him. You never wanted him to feel confused, to wonder what had gone wrong, or to turn his gaze inward, picking himself apart in search of answers to questions you hadn’t dared voice.

But here he is, shoulders hunched under the weight of his own thoughts. Thoughts you had put there.

You can’t let him bear this.

Your feet carry you forward, steps carefully as you make your way to the fire escape. Slowly, watching for reactions from him, you slip out the window and settle down beside him on the cold metal. He gives you such a quick look, it’s hard to make out his features and angles his face downward a little, shadows lining his eyes.

With a heavy sigh, the sound trembling slightly, deep and unsteady, he readjusts his place on the ground, sitting up a little straighter and making enough room for you.

A dark blanket is draped around his shoulders and you watch him shift his arm, opening the space underneath it for you to sink into the warmth of the fabric. Without a word, you inch closer, settling into his side and he makes sure the blanket covers your form. You feel the warmth seep into your bones, though it’s not the blanket that gifts it to you.

Bucky doesn’t look your way, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the rooftops, but his arm settles securely around you. There’s a hesitance in his movements that makes your stomach churn uncomfortably but you try and let him ground you.

“Are you okay?”

Your question is soft as a breath, barely a whisper between the two of you. You search his profile, hoping he’ll at least give you anything, but his eyes remain fixed forward, jaw set tight, stubbornly resisting your gaze.

“I’m fine,” he then rasps, though the words sound brittle, cracked, like he hasn’t made use of his voice the whole day, roughened by hours of silence. His voice is thick, thicker than the blanket around your shoulders that’s supposed to keep out the cold, but a shudder runs down your spine nonetheless.

You keep watching him, unblinking, because he knows you see the lie. But he doesn’t take it back, doesn’t soften or explain, or even try to make it seem like he’s okay. Instead, he just sits there with those sad, distant eyes and slumped shoulders, lips pressed into a frown as his brows draw together in tired lines.

“No, you’re not.”

It’s gentle as you say it, careful. You can’t take your eyes off of him, watching his lips twitch in a humorless huff, a hollow, empty sound that’s swept away with the nightly breeze as soon as it leaves him. He takes a slow, steadying breath, as though the air itself might offer him something solid, and he clears his throat softly, eyes never leaving the stars.

You sit in the stillness, not even hearing the sounds of the city below, only hoping to hear him again, waiting for him to ask you what he meant to ask the night. But the silence stretches on, unbroken and filled with a tension you’re not used to feeling around Bucky.

Eventually, you avert your gaze and look out at the lights yourself, that’s wrapped in a darkness that usually feels comfortable. You’ve been in this position so many times before, sitting on the metal, cozying up against his side, with his arm slung over your shoulder, but there is so much space between you even though you feel the entirety of his left side pressed against your right.

You take a breath that fills you with a realization you’d like to swallow down again. This isn’t the moment to lay everything bare, to tell him what you know you have to, but in order to break through the barriers that built between you and Bucky, you’ll have to be honest. Yet, if you can’t bring yourself to speak of the feelings you’ve held so closely for him, then you’ll have to tell him the other truth. The one you’ve kept hidden for now. You’ll have to tell him you’re leaving, that soon there will be no more shared walls, no more lingering mornings, and touches on the couch during movie nights.

It’s the only way to unburden both of you, to allow him - and yourself - to stop searching the night for answers that have been locked in your heart all along.

This step away is the only way forward.

And he deserves to know. He deserves to experience it for himself.

“I have to tell you something.”

Your voice is once again just barely a murmur and this time it’s his turn to watch your profile, his eyes tracing your features as yours remain trained on the blurred constellation of city lights and their surrounding darkness, unseeing and unfocused.

Maybe he catches the undertone in your voice, that tremor of guilt, of reluctance - the suffocating fear that, once spoken aloud, your decision will become real. It won’t just be a simple hope to a relief anymore, it will be your reality and more than that - it will be Bucky’s too.

You pause, pulling in a shaky breath, feeling his steady gaze on you, waiting and patient like he always is. “I’ve been thinking. Lately. And I guess, maybe… I mean I believe it’s for the best-”

You let out a frustrated sigh, pressing your lips together, summoning every ounce of courage, forcing the words past the tightness in your throat.

“I’m planning on moving out.”

The words tumble from you in one rushed breath and you feel empty of air for a moment.

There’s no way you can keep breathing normally ever again at the sharp, strangled sound of Bucky’s own breath hitching, a choked inhale that makes your lungs gasp for a reprieve you’re not able to give, despite it being so easy.

Bucky goes impossibly still beside you, his shoulders no longer slumped but rigid, his body stiff as a board and his arm around you retreats slowly, almost mechanically. The warmth of his shoulder, which once felt so comforting, is now a firm weight against you. His gaze leaves needles prickling into your skin, so intense and confused, it fills you with a dread so unbearable, you wonder if you’ve made a mistake by telling him.

But there is no going back now.

“It wasn’t an easy decision, okay?” you start, trying to keep your voice as steady as it would go, but you know you fail. “And it’s not because of anything you did, or anything that’s happened between us, alright? I just… I just need this. For myself.”

Bucky still doesn’t say anything and you force yourself to meet his eyes. However, you couldn’t prepare yourself for what you see. The usually glowing blue of his eyes is pale and fractured with confusion and an exposed hurt so intense and laid open, it feels like a physical blow. You feel your heart screaming to take it back. To make what you said unheard.

You never meant for this - never intended to put that look in his eyes, to shove this desolation in his beautiful gaze, that sears its way into your chest, ripping it open to leave a gaping and bleeding wound.

“What did I do?” He doesn’t seem to manage anything other than a whisper, so soft, so fragile and broken it barely reaches you. Yet, it cuts deeper than anything he could have shouted, each word strained, painted with vulnerability. He sounds so small, so lost, a part of him crumbling in front of you, and the sight is enough to leave you torn.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Buck! Please, please believe me,” you beg, reaching out, but stopping short, fingers curling into your palms as you fight to keep yourself from holding him, from touching him like you always have. “I just… I have to deal with something, and I- I think it might be better this way.”

But his gaze doesn’t change, doesn’t yield to your explanation. The ache in his eyes is unforgiving, swirling in the wet sheen that has appeared with shock and a torment that seems to merge into something deeper, something that’s cutting him from the inside out.

You feel the sting behind your own eyes, hating how the tension pulls you further apart. Bucky’s eyes are rimmed red, faintly puffy and the sight grips you with fingers so bony, they leave marks on your skin. It’s a sign that whatever he’s holding inside, it’s something he’s struggled through alone already, something he’s been carrying before you came out here, something that’s been eating at him since the day you pulled back.

“You really want to do this?” It sounds as broken as the first time. Though this time he doesn’t seem to care what he sounds like anymore.

“I have to.”

He doesn’t respond. You don’t say more. You realize that no words, no explanations, could ease the ache you’ve cast into his eyes. No further explanation you could give him would uncoil the tightness in his shoulders, or soften the tension that has locked his body into a posture of heartache.

Even if you wanted to speak, you can’t. The knot in your throat has cemented itself, strangling any thought or apology before it can reach your lips. You hate it for letting anything pass in the first place.

You turn your gaze back to the city lights and hate the way they press on you. The glow of the streets and buildings you had looked upon so many times now feels lifeless, like an uninspired haze. There seems to be no color anymore, as though all the meaning has simply faded away, leaving only the dull aftermath of what you’ve set in motion.

A strained breath only leaves you, offering you no relief, and minutes stretch onward in excruciating stillness - one, two, five, maybe more, each one heavier than the last.

You still feel Bucky beside you, but never had you felt so detached. So apart from him in ways too painful to feel. But you have to feel it. Because it’s there. In every inch of space between your bodies.

It’s as though he’s fading from you, retreating into himself, covering himself with the hurt you laid out on him.

He’s sitting in the corner of your eye, breaths ragged and unsteady, yet he makes no move to contain it, no attempt to mask the sorrow that already drew him out here in the first place but feels so pronounced now. He’s letting it settle, letting it sink into him, surrendering to it.

You hate yourself for it. For the way, the words took shape, for the way they slipped past your lips, for the pain now etched into his features, and for the distance that feels too expansive to ever close with simple words.

He’ll understand eventually, you tell yourself, as if willing it into truth. Once you’ve moved out, once there’s finally a boundary between his life and yours, you’ll be able to breathe again, to find refuge from the endless loop of moments where he’s wrapped up in someone who isn’t you.

Maybe then you’ll be able to clear your head. Maybe the feelings twisting up your insides will loosen and fade if you’re lucky. Maybe you’ll be able to unravel them, to make sense of the longing that’s burrowed so deep it feels as if it’s become a part of you.

You could find a way to purge yourself of this deeply ingrained ache that thrums through your every thought of him. And then, with a little hope, you’ll be able to talk to him, as you used to, with honesty, ease, and that playful banter you miss so much, and this knot in your chest will dissolve, returning you to the friendship you both know best. So, maybe, freed from this unspoken tension, you’ll be able to look at him without feeling like you’re losing a little more of yourself with every passing glance.

You just need distance first.

And patience. A brutal patience, to endure the space that stretches between what is and what might be, to trust that the emotions which hold you close now might one day fade into the background, into something manageable, something you can breathe through.

And yet, sitting here beside him like you did so many times before, the silence heavy with words left unsaid, a part of you already knows that this patience you’re counting on, this idea that distance alone will fix what’s broken, may be the hardest illusion to cling to. But you have to try, for both your sakes, to believe there’s relief on the other side of goodbye.

Another minute goes by, stretching like the distance between you, pulling the silence tighter until the space between you feels like a chasm. You lift your glistening eyes to the night sky and something catches your attention. There is a streak of light brighter than the rest, sliding toward the earth in a slow, fading descent.

A falling star.

Its light shudders, then vanishes into the void, leaving you staring at a dark spot. Then, another appears, arcing through the dark sky, flaring for a heartbeat, and blinking away. Another follows, and another, an endless parade of wishes burning up in the night to disappear again.

You watch them fall, though with no joy. There’s no wonder, no awe, only an aching hollowness. You watch another of them light up and disappear because, at this moment, there is nothing else left to hold onto. These brief, dying sparks feel almost mocking, reminders of wishes made too late, of moments slipping out of reach before you even had the chance to claim them.

Out of the corner of your eye, you make out Bucky’s gaze lift, following the same fleeting lights. Make a wish. The thought echoes bitterly in your mind. The irony feels cruel, an old superstition dredged up in a moment where wishes hold little comfort.

But, despite yourself, you wonder what Bucky’s wish might be - what he might ask of the stars if he believed they were listening.

And as you think this, a truth rises, too sharp to ignore. You know your wish, the one you’ve been carrying all the time, the one sitting inches from you, close enough to touch but impossibly far. And there’s a twinge in realizing that he may never know, that your wish lives and breathes beside you, and he has no idea.

But you have no idea that the only thing Bucky Barnes could ever wish for is sitting right beside him too, equally unknown, equally close and painfully out of reach.

So, all you do is hold your breath, feeling the night press in, the stars disappearing one by one as their light flickers out, swallowed by the dark once again.

🍁 October Writing Challenges Masterlist 🍁

[hotchscoffeecup]

banana pancakes

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Rating: E

Category: Fluff (tooth-rotting)

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: On a Sunday morning, you wake to find Aaron making breakfast in the kitchen. He surprises you with slow dancing to old country music, Jack is cute as all get out, and of course, banana pancakes.

“Jack?” you ask groggily. You prop yourself up on your elbows and note Aaron isn’t in bed beside you. “Hey buddy, is everything ok?” You glance at your phone plugged in on the nightstand where the numbers blink back 8:37AM aka too early on a Sunday.

Jack giggles quietly. “Daddy is being silly in the kitchen.”

Knowing that could mean anything to a six year old, naturally, your brow furrows. Your lips quirk into a half smile as you regard his own happy face. “What do you mean, silly?”

Jack’s little hands fly to his mouth as he stifles another laugh. “I’m going to go play in my room!” And just like that he bounces off of the bad and darts out the door into the hallway.

Now curious, you push the sheets back and slide out of bed, wrapping your arms around yourself as a chill passes through you. Before leaving the room, you pull on the gray cotton robe that falls to your mid-calf and tie it loosely over your sleep shirt and shorts set. As you step into the hallway, the smell of coffee and something baking fills your nostrils. Your stomach rumbles gently in response to the sweet aroma.

Quietly, you make sure way down the hall. When you’re close enough to peer into the kitchen, you lean against the doorway and watch. The stove is along the far wall, so if you’re cooking, you’re turned away from the doorway. He doesn’t see you, not at first.

Dressed only in a white t-shirt and boxers, the apron decorated with images of wine glasses on it contrasts sharply with the plaid pattern of his undergarments. George Strait is playing on the stereo. He gently shakes his hips back and forth as he quietly sings along to the country ballad. As he flips the pancakes over, you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You bite your thumbnail as you watch him and when he turns around, the stunned look on his face causes you to smile even wider.

“Now how am I supposed to bring you breakfast in bed if you’re not in bed?” he questions, the dark slash of his brow arching as he regards you with warm, brown eyes.

“You can blame the little man,” you reply cheekily. “He woke me up to tell me daddy was being silly in the kitchen.”

Hotch smiles, revealing the left dimple in his cheek. “Oh yeah?” he says, tone playful as he saunters toward you. Stretching his hands out toward the ties on your robe, he takes hold of them and pulls you in toward him. Looping one arm around your waist, he uses the other to swipe at the dial on the stereo. The volume cranks up and he takes your hand in his. Turning in a slow circle, he sways to the music, pulling you along with him.

He presses a kiss to your temple and holds you close as he dances you in small circles around the kitchen. Putting a deep country vibrato into his voice, he begins to hum and sing along against your cheek.

“I cross my heart,” he sings, “and promise to, give all I’ve got to give to make your dreams come true.”

You drop your head back and laugh as he whirls you around in a dramatic arc. “Aaron!” you cry giddily.

He continues to sing. “In all the world, you’ll never find a love as true as mine.”

The acrid smell of something burning starts to singe your nostrils. “Aaron, the pancakes!”

“Oh, let them burn!” he croons.

You playfully slap at his chest before breaking free from his hold. In turn, he slaps you on the ass. You shriek gleefully and he laughs as you dash over to the stove and pull the quickly blackening pancakes off the pan. Fortunately, he has a bowl half full of batter still off to the side alongside a plate of about half a dozen perfectly golden brown pancakes.

“Daddy! Daddy!” The pitter patter of small feet slapping against the linoleum echoes as Jack tumbles into the room. Aaron grabs him around the middle and swoops him into the air.

“Hey buddy!” he greets as he kisses him on the cheek.

“Daddy, it’s our song!”

Aaron quiets for a moment as he listens to the stereo and Jack is right. The track had changed over to another George Straight song, Love Without End, Amen.

As Aaron dances Jack around the kitchen, swinging him high and low and singing lyrics fractured with laughter, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell with joy.

“Daddies don’t just love their children every now and then, it’s a love without end, amen.”

You couldn’t begin to imagine a more perfect Sunday morning than this.

“It’s a love without end, amen!” Jack sing-shouts as the song comes to a close.

Aaron sets Jack down on the floor and you start to clap and cheer. “What a show!” you exclaim. “Jack, that was amazing!”

He grins sheepishly, “Thank you.” He tacks your name to the end of his thanks as he runs to the kitchen table to climb into his chair and you can’t help but feel all the more grateful in return for how much Jack has welcomed you into his little family with him and his dad.

“I’ll get the pancakes,” Aaron says with a quick peck on your cheek as he scoots past you to pick up the plate.

“I’ll get the coffee!” you say in turn and pull two mugs down from the cabinet. As you fix yours and Aaron’s (black for you and splash of milk and two sugars for him), you make sure to grab a third mug from the cabinet to make Jack a glass of chocolate milk. Drinking out of a mug while you two drank your coffee made him feel like one of the grown ups, after all.

You carefully pile all three mugs into your hands and make your way to your seat at the table. Aaron sets a plate in front of you and Jack and you serve yourself and him two pancakes each.

“Oh! Do we have any—” you start and stop as Aaron places a small bowl of sliced bananas beside your plate.

He eyes you knowingly. “You think after all this time, I’d forget your favorite?”

You cup his cheek in your hand and press a quick kiss to his lips.

“Yuck!” cries Jack as she shoves a forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

“I do love banana pancakes,” you say as you scoop a spoonful onto the fluffy rounds in front of you.

Aaron hugs you from behind before taking his seat at the head of the table. “And I love you more than you love banana pancakes.”

[nightmargin]

tysm for Pancake episode

wait if Niko doesn't have the sun now, is Lamplighter out of a job?

fortunately, there is a period of day known as "night"*, where the sun goes away for a while, just like on earth! the tower works similarly to a lighthouse, where the sun's rays hit only part of the world-disc at a time, here's a ms paint illustration of this effect:

*not to be confused with night (me!)

[bad-omens-blog]

Dad's Day Out -- Dad! Noah Sebastian

Warnings: All the cute, fluffy feelings. Concert interruptions, but in the cutest way possible.

Summary: Noah's wife cannot take their daughter for the day, so it was bring your daughter to work day. Girl Dad Noah for the win, even if he's dressed all in black.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Noah barely had three seconds to open his eyes before his daughter jumped on him, knocking the air from his lungs, "Wake up! Wake up!"

"Fuck. . ." He gasped, rasping out, "Morning baby." He blinked awake to see the same brown eyes as his, "Sleep good?"

"Bestest." She nodded, "Pancakes for breakfast?"

Noah squinted at the clock. 8 am. Right on time for his little girl, "Yeah. Dad needs coffee anyway." He rolled out of bed, noting his daughter's pink strawberry-printed pajamas.

She ran ahead of him, knocking loudly at Jolly's door, "Wake up, Uncle Jolly! Wake up! The sun is awake!"

Noah met Jesse in the kitchen, who looked like hell froze over, "She got to you first?" Noah snorted, pouring a cup of coffee.

"No one should radiate that level of joy at eight in the morning, yet your child somehow pulls it off effortlessly..." He cradled Noah's face in his hands, his voice low and almost fierce as he continued, "Every single day, without fail. She’s fortunate to have that adorable face to back her up."

“I got Uncle Jolly up!” Scarlett declared triumphantly as they descended the staircase, the man effortlessly carrying her in his sturdy arms. His hair resembled a disheveled bird’s nest, wild and untamed, and Scarlett, ever the perfectionist, diligently attempted to smooth it down with her tiny hands. Scarlet Marie Davis was undoubtedly her mother’s daughter—exuding an air of entitlement and an unyielding desire for everything to be just right, all while basking in the lavish spoiling that came her way.

She was spoiled because Noah spoiled her. That was it. Noah smiled as he popped the frozen pancakes into the toaster. The four-year-old was his pride and joy.

"When I say I want a cute girl to wake me up, that's not what I meant," Jolly muttered as he sat at the bar stool; Scarlet was still trying to fix his hair but gave up with a huff.

"Alright, little miss." Noah's fake military voice made her look at him, "What are we wearing today?"

"My pink fluffy dress, Mommy, got me."

Noah hung his head in defeat. He had to dress her in white patent leather flats with lace socks and do her hair. Noah hummed, "Are we sure about this?"

Scarlet nodded, looking at him like he was crazy. Of course, she wanted to wear the pinkest, frilliest dress she owned to a rock show with Dad. "Mommy laid it out for me!"

#

Clad in sleek black attire that contrasted sharply with the vibrant surroundings, Noah carried Scarlet in his arms. She twinkled like a gem in her delicate pink dress, which billowed softly around her as they made their way to the venue.

"Oh my god! Look at you, prettiest girl in the world wide world!" Nick yelled as soon as he saw Scarlet.

Scarlet smiled, "Daddy even let me wear Mommy's perfume."

Nick excitedly ran up to her, burying his nose in her neck like an overly eager puppy, "You do! You smell so pretty." Nick snatched the giggling girl from Noah's arms.

"Do not get her dirty," Noah warned him. Nick gave him a look that said, No, Duh. Noah pointed at him, "I fucking mean it."

Noah went to Matt and grabbed his mic and earpiece. He was talking over the set when Scarlet found him again, saying, "Hey, baby."

"Daddy, lots of people here!" she said, her wide brown eyes clinging to his leg. "They here for you?"

"For me and your uncles." Noah told her, kneeling to her height, "How about you come out with me for V.A.N?" Matt started to say something, but Noah waved him off.

Scarlet nodded excitedly since that was her favorite song, and she loved to watch Poppy on stage.

#

Noah was hot and sweaty when he donned the famous ski mask.

"I would like your help in extending a warm welcome to a very special friend," Poppy announced to the assembled crowd, her voice filled with excitement. "We need to be exceptionally quiet so we don’t startle them." The anticipation in the air was palpable as everyone leaned in closer, eager to join in this enchanting greeting.

Fortunately, this unexpected delay offered Noah a precious opportunity to help Scarlet acclimate to the spotlight. "You'll be sitting on my lap the entire time," he reassured her, a comforting smile on his face. He gestured towards the drum set in the center of the stage, its glossy surface shining under the stage lights. "Look over there—Uncle Nick will be playing. And you'll get to see Uncle Jolly and Nik-Nik, too." As he spoke, he could see the curiosity spark in Scarlet's eyes, and he knew that soon she'd feel right at home in this vibrant world of music.

"Can I bring bun-bun?" She clutched her stuffed bunny to her chest.

"Yeah! Bun Bun wants to see it, too!" Noah smiled, "Ready? I'll even let you do your favorite part."

"Promise?" She asked, suddenly excited.

"I promise, sweetheart. Ready?" She nodded, and Noah scooped her up in his arms. He handed her his sunglasses for the lights.

"Stinky Daddy." She wrinkled her nose, making Noah laugh. He settled down next to the drumset with Scarlet securely in his lap. Then the song started.

The crowd erupted in wild cheers and ecstatic shouts as they caught sight of Scarlet perched playfully on his lap, her vibrancy adding to the electric atmosphere. His arm wrapped protectively around her waist, creating a sense of safety as he effortlessly provided backup for Poppy. Poppy waved to Scarlet excitedly.

Noah observed as Scarlet inhaled deeply, her eyes sparkling with anticipation for the moment she cherished most. With a gentle smile, he raised the microphone towards her, positioning it perfectly to capture the excitement in her voice. The air was thick with the expectation of a wildly known part of the song.

"Picture perfect image, more powerful every minute, baby. I am everything that you're not."

"ROOOR!" Scarlet growled, and the crowd went into a frenzy.

As the song's driving beat surged and the heavier lyrics kicked in, Noah gracefully slid from the high rise, his movements fluid and confident. He deftly balanced Scarlet on his hip, her laughter mingling with the rhythm as he twirled her around. With a joyful smile, he joined Poppy in a lively dance, their bodies moving in sync with the pulsating melody as they sang together with abandon.

Everything had gone splendidly, and Scarlet soaked in the thrill of her performance. As she made her way backstage, her excitement bubbled over, and she let out a jubilant scream that resonated louder than her fiercest growl, "MOMMY!" The sound echoed off the walls, filled with the warmth of her joy and the adrenaline still coursing through her veins.

His stunningly beautiful wife stood nearby, conversing with Matt, whose expression suggested he was being gently reprimanded. The light from the stage cast a warm glow on her features, highlighting her frown. Her gaze fell on her daughter as she turned, and her face instantly brightened. "Hello, sweetheart!" she called out, her voice infused with warmth and affection.

"Did you see me? Did you see it? I'm a rockstar like Daddy!"

"I did see! You did so good! I am so proud of you."

Noah stepped back, his heart pounding as he surveyed the scene before him. The vibrant flicker of party lights cast an array of colors across the room, but the look in his wife's eyes truly grabbed his attention. A mixture of amusement and mischief danced within them, sending a chill of realization down his spine. He gulped, fully aware that he was in deep trouble. Her lips curved into a knowing smile as she recalled the night's antics, and he braced himself for the inevitable. "She had fun!" he said, a mix of dread and admiration swirling in his chest as he prepared to face the consequences of their wild evening.

"And you are so incredibly fortunate that I love you," his wife murmured softly, her voice laced with affection as she pressed her lips against his with warmth and tenderness.

[thatstonedwriter]

⋆｡˚ 「 Domesticity 」 ⋆｡˚

◉ Sinopsis; Stolas and his s/o spend a romantic morning together

◉ A/n- stay tuned for a little scenario at the bottom of this post. First time I'm combining headcanons and a short scenario, hope y'all enjoy <3

── ˙•˚∘✮🌙ᯓ🪐˙•˚∘ ──

The sky brightens, light wafting through the curtains like a gentle wake up call. Beside you, Stolas stirs in his sleep, cooing and turning over. As wonderful as it would be to sleep in, its time to get ready for the day.

Stolas isn't a morning person. Unless he has appointment or meetings, he'll sleep in until the late morning. I mean- He's an owl demon, he's gonna prefer nighttime. Fortunately, you make mornings much more bearable.

If you're the type to stay in bed, Stolas takes full advantage. Half-awake, he'll leave light kisses on your cheek, neck, and arms, mumbling a small "good morning, darling"

He's also the type to playfully groan about having to get up. He pulls the blankets closer, damn near hiding under them, holding you close and making very persuasive points as to why you should just stay in bed with him.

If you prefer to get up and get an early start on the day, Stolas appreciates that too. He'll still whine about how he wants you to stay in bed, but won't keep you from doing your thing. He'll even make an effort to get up with you to maximize quality time together

It's been said Stolas doesn't know how to cook. And it's true, that's why people say it. If you also can't cook, y'all will settle for a simple breakfast- maybe going to a cafe or staying home with a bowl of cereal or a plate of pancakes

Ngl, I think Stolas would listen to podcasts or audio books in the morning. Listen; y'all are in the kitchen or bathroom, getting ready for the day, making your food- all while listening to a mystery novel or an astronomy podcast.

As small as the moments are, Stolas cherishes just standing in the bathroom getting ready for the day, consulting with you on what outfits y'all should wear, and taking turns in the shower. He's finally able to call this house a home because he gets to share it with you.

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

The bubbling sounds of the coffee maker and the sizzle of cooking pancakes fill the kitchen. Stolas walks in, groggily rubbing his eyes and padding over to you.

"Good morning, my love," he whispers, kissing the top of your head. Stolas rests his head atop yours, watching the pancake batter bubble on the pan. "The food smells delicious."

"Thanks," you chuckle, leaving th pancakes for a moment to pour a cup of coffee. "Careful, it's hot," you say, passing the mug to him. Stolas nods, kissing you once more and sipping the coffee.

"You can go ahead and sit down, the pancakes will be done soon."

Stolas smiles, leaning against the counter. "I can stay here. After all, why would I go all the way over there when you're right here?"

"Whatever you say, birdy," you laugh, turning your attention back to the pancakes.

The rest of the time passes in comfortable silence. Stolas watches you lovingly, thinking of how grateful he is to share these moments with you. This is the love he's has been waiting for.

── ˙•˚∘✮ 🔭๋࣭ᯓ🌙˙•˚∘ ──