#half moon cookie answers

[cookie-lore-keeper]

Well, well, well, what do we have here? An archivist? And what a little liar you are for being in that Cookie form all the time! Must be difficult trying to compile all that information, hm?

Shadow Milk Cookie appears as a mere ghost of his true self, but still himself nonetheless. He's mostly transparent, but is still visible, if only barely. Shouldn't he have more power than that? It doesn't fully make sense for him to show up like this.

Ooh! I know... what if I quiz you right now on why I'm here... like this?

He makes a sweeping gesture as he motions towards himself.

That'd be fun, riiiight?

@i-merely-jest

"Huh. My first time talking to a beast Cookie. I know you guys hate me for being a witch, but this is quite exciting! "

Half-Moon Cookie looks unfazed by the appearance of Shadow Milk Cookie, even a bit excited! They lean in the direction of the beast, hands behind their back and with narrowed eyes (a contrast from their usually happy and curious look) and a sly smile.

"Before we start, I'd like to have you know that I am much, much older than you are. I have more knowledge in my archives that you could ever dream of, Fount of Knowledge. And, I don't like to flaunt it around much, but don't forget; my people created you. Your power is nothing compared to mine. With a snap of my fingers, you could be gone in an instant."

They immedietaly revert back to their usual curious and happy demeanor as if nothing happened.

"Now, shall we begin the game?"

"It's a trick question! My Shadow Milk Cookie is different from you! The Shadow Milk Cookie in my world was locked up away in the Silver Tree by the witches and guarded by Elder Faerie Cookie. But, the beasts still had some influence, like you, Shadow Milk Cookie. You still had some of your power and access to the world through the Dark Side of the Moon."

"You, however? Something else has trapped you here; something that I don't even have full knowledge of. Isn't that something? The Witch of Knowledge and Information not having enough knowledge or information on something? Ha! But, either way, your power has still been limited in the world you're in right now. I'd suggest saving a bit more of your energy, less you tire yourself out!"

[miniimight]

3AM sukuna underestimated just how much sleep he'd lose after having a kid (dad!sukuna x fem!reader)

the soft pitter patter of your baby's feet was enough to alert his senses. he didn't move—didn't even open his eyes—but his ears were tuned to the sound of your daughter's heavy breathing and the occasional babble.

he could hear her fiddle with the drawer handles, a soft rumble causing her to hum as she pulled the drawer out. a thud meant she bumped into it as she drew closer, messing around with the paper and cords inside.

he peeked one eye open. you were fast asleep beside him, and he was inclined to keep it that way. he didn't like to see his woman exhausted and seconds away from falling flat on her face because his little girl was, apparently, nocturnal.

"mama." she huffed as she finally turned her attention to the bed, fussing as she attempted to climb up.

he sighed. that was his cue.

he groaned as he rolled over, peering over your resting body at his daughter. she paused for a second, staring up at him with those shiny eyes that reminded him so much of you.

he raised an eyebrow.

she ignored his judgement and bounced in place, stretching her arms out to be picked up. "mama."

"mama's sleeping." he grumbled.

oh. oh, no. she didn't like that. she pouted, eyebrows furrowing in what seemed to be anger. her fingers curled into tiny fists and sukuna's lips twitched upwards in amusement. how adorable.

"mama." she said more adamantly.

he glared right back. "if you're coming back up here, you're gonna go to sleep."

whether she understood or not, she kept fussing to be picked up. he rolled his eyes and scooped her into his arms, rolling onto his back. baby was on his chest, leaning up so that she was sitting upright.

sukuna held onto her back, in case she toppled over and fell over like the bobblehead she was. "lie down."

"no." she chirped, looking out the window at the moon against the midnight blue.

"sleep."

"no."

he scrunched up his face. his life was much easier before she learned that word.

growing bored of the night sky, your baby rolled off sukuna's chest, scooting her way through the mess of sheets over to you. she glanced back at him as if to see if he was watching.

he gave her a look, observing her carefully. "don't you wake her up," he warned, propping his head up by his elbow.

her round eyes showed no trace of acknowledgment before she turned back to face you. there was a pause before her hand lifted in the air.

"okay." he sighed, catching the tiny hand in his before she slapped you awake. "come on."

she whined, writhing in his grip as he pulled her off the bed by the leg, dangling her in front of his face. "you really are little menace, aren't you?" he scoffed, flipping her over and holding her just like you taught him to.

she just babbled as her finger pulled at her mouth, the other hand resting on his shoulder.

he dragged his feet out the bedroom, into the kitchen. "what is it that you want, hm?" he rifled through the cupboards and pantry tiredly. "want a cookie?"

she squealed happily and pat his shoulder, a good enough answer for him to pull the package out. he dropped onto the couch, handing her one.

she nibbled on it, the chocolate staining her hands and mouth. he watched her fondly. to think he'd have a child of his own still confused him to this day. for all his wrongs, he must have done something right.

"wan' one?" she slurred, holding up the half-spit cookie to him.

"...no." he said plainly, though he did pick up a new cookie and took a bite out of it. might as well, he thought.

his eyes drooped until he felt his cookie being snatched out of his hand, replaced by the spitty cookie with most of its icing dug off.

"daddy take that one." she giggled, feasting upon her new cookie.

sukuna... what could he do? he ate that thing.

when you woke up the morning after, you just shook your head at the sight—your daughter resting on your husband's chest, cookie crumbs and chocolate smears all over the both of them. fast asleep. sugar coma.

you saved that picture for later <3

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[parfaitblogs]

over the moon ❀ s. reid x reader

in which a bout of insomnia prompts the usage of your arguably overworked baking equipment. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff tags: established relationship. cliché flour fight into kissing... sorry... no i'm not. use of pet names. make out sesh (obviously).  word count: 1.4k a/n: also known as spencer and reader take on the margotlia bucket list for margovember!!! happy birthday to my lover @pathologicalreid!!! who has very quickly become my other half on this silly little side of tumblr. a prophet told me there are snickerdoodle cookies and a smithsonian date with our names on it in our futures ♡

"Honey, please tell me the light on in the kitchen is you getting a glass of water."

Like a deer in headlights, you're frozen in your beelined pathway between the fridge and the countertop of Spencer's kitchen, the carton of eggs in your hands preventing any attempt of a lie to him.

"Uh..." Your eyes lock with his, and he's visibly deflating upon spotting the pantry's baking ingredients arranged in front of you. "I'm just getting water?"

"I didn't realise you put sticks of butter into your water," he counters, voice meticulously picking apart your lie in front of your face. "Does that taste good?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sure," he nods his head, his feet carrying him over to you behind the counter. "What recipe have you chosen to victimise today?"

"Snickerdoodle cookies," you mumble, as his arms wrap around your waist, and his chin sits on your shoulder, eyes peering at your phone screen that had the cookie recipe open. 

"Any particular reason?" 

"I couldn't sleep," you explain. "Did I wake you up?"

"Yeah," he nods, and a beat passes where you mumble a quiet apology to him, before he's pulling away from you and picking up your phone. "Where do we start?"

It wasn't the first time you had baked instead of sleeping, and it certainly wasn't the first time Spencer had woken up to the sound of your hand mixer combining sugar and butter, or the oven timer dinging to accompany the smell of freshly baked muffins. In fact, he had become accustomed to not getting through an entire fortnight without at least one tray of baked goods taking up counter space. 

It was the first time he had offered to help you, though. He either accompanied you and watched you bake, or sat at his desk to get paperwork done (he said he should use the extra time spent conscious wisely). 

"You don't have to help," you're shaking your head, but he's already going to the sink to wash his hands. 

"You only slept for two hours before waking up to do this. I'd like to get you back to bed sooner rather than later," he answers, patting his hands dry. "I won't sleep until you do, anyways."

"Okay," you relent, staring at him almost stunned, before you return to the recipe you had up on your phone. "Um... could you combine the sugar and butter?"

Baking with Spencer Reid seemed to make everything a lot easier. Ignoring the obvious (the help an extra set of hands provided), his eidetic memory meant you could throw a step his way, and he'd know exactly what he was doing. Having asked him to add the eggs to his sugar and butter mix, he was already separating the yolk from the whites before you needed to say a thing.

"Have you ever stuck your hand into flour?" you ask him, and he lifts his head, eyebrows frowning together. 

"No. Why would I do that?"

"To know what it feels like," you say, dryly, though there isn't any malice behind it. "Have you never wanted to know what it feels like?"

"You can use context clues to figure out what it would feel like," he replies. "Correct?" 

"Spencer, you're entirely missing the point," you shake your head, and though he lifts his head from his sugar-butter-and-egg mixture to question you, he doesn't even remotely expect a large fistful of flour to explode across his chest. 

Then, you're laughing, and he's still battling with the initial shock of your flour attack for a few more seconds to laugh with you. But, when he does, he's almost mocking with it, and your face falls when he's putting his own hand into the container labelled flour, lifting it, and dragging his hand over your stomach. 

"Oh my God!" you say through a laugh, looking down at the smear of flour on your t-shirt. "Spencer!"

"Reap what you can sow," he retorts. 

So, you do.

You aren't too sure when the flour fighting gets more intimate. Somewhere between your fingers running it through his hair, and his hands landing on your ass, as he tugs you into him.

You're heaving, though the smile on your face is perfect, and he's certain he might be falling in love with you all over again. Cheeks stained in flour and all. 

"Hello," you sing, lifting your chin up to smile at him.

"Hi, sweet girl," he replies, ducking his head down to brush his lips against yours, and you pull a face at the faint taste of flour on them. 

Your finger lifts up to brush his lower lip, face growing concentrated as you brush the powder off it. "You've got a little... something..." 

"Do I?" he asks, condescendingly, and you're firmly nodding your head. 

"Yep. This is why I bake alone, Spencer Reid," you tut. 

His eyebrows raise. "I don't know if I want to even try to prove you wrong."

"I wouldn't recommend it."

"Duly noted. Anything you do recommend?"

You pause. "Kissing me might help in my journey of forgiving you for this mess."

If he's got any plan to defend himself, it crumbles beneath the words of your request, and his lips are stretching into a smile. 

"I'll do whatever I can."

His lips have a film on them from the brushed away flour, making them softer than they usually are, as he presses them against yours. Hands that were once resting almost teasingly on your ass lift to your hips, and your own drop to the countertop behind him as you lean into him.

As you usually feel in your slow moments like this with him, you feel your heart soar, your head tilting to the side as you accomodate his face being so close to your own. 

Arguably, his favourite thing about kissing you for longer than half a second, is the mewls and hums that leave your lips. Never too much to prompt anything more, but instead just enough to tell him just how much you enjoy kissing him. A feeling that is entirely mutual.

As soon as it starts, it's over. Which can't really be true, for you are panting when his head pulls away from yours,  and he's got that glassy look in his eyes that always makes your body warm. 

"We need to go shower," he murmurs, breath warm against your skin. 

You want to decline, just to stay standing right there in the kitchen with him, the urge to keep kissing him almost overwhelming. But his fingers have lifted to brush against a patch of flour on your neck, and you're surrendering at the feeling. 

"Okay."

Thus, forty-five minutes and one unreasonably long shower later, you were standing back in the kitchen, a bowl with cinnamon and sugar in front of you. Spencer's t-shirt hanging off your body — after you had expertly coerced him into letting you wear it — and a fork in your hands as you whisk the two toppings together. 

He's sitting on a stool on the other side of the bench, stirring the dough together after you had complained it was too thick. He argued it was supposed to be. 

Heading over to Spencer once the cinnamon and sugar was combined in a bowl, you mumble, "Okay. 'm tired," your head buried into the crook of his neck. 

"Yeah, weaponising that flour probably exhausted some energy," he muses, letting go of the wooden spoon to wrap his arms around you. "We still need to bake these, though."

"Cookie dough is yummy too," you retort, hand reaching out to pinch a piece of the dough. 

"Cookie dough isn't safe for you to eat," he answers, catching your wrist before you can get ahold of any batter. Upon seeing your pout, combined with the tired look in your eyes, he relents, letting you pick up a small piece just to eat. "How about we put this in the fridge, and we bake them tomorrow?" 

"I like that plan."

"I thought you would."

Helping him with the clean up consisted of you putting the dough in the fridge and cinnamon sugar in the pantry, and him doing... everything else. He didn't seem to mind, though, and his hands found their place on your waist as he walked you back towards the bedroom. 

"C'mon, sleepy girl."

He laughs at your incoherent grumble towards the name calling, letting you drag him back into the bed adorned with wrinkled sheets. 

"Thanks for baking with me," you say, voice layered with your exhaustion as you're curling up next to him. 

"Thanks for attacking me with flour."

"And I'd do it again."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[gainercontent]

The Naughty List - Part 1

It was Christmas Eve, and 20-year-old Jason Price was in his usual rebellious mood. As the snow fell gently outside, blanketing the small suburban neighborhood in a layer of white, Jason lounged on his couch in a dark hoodie, earbuds securely in place, blasting music that was anything but festive. The rest of his family had gathered in the kitchen, baking cookies and humming carols, but Jason wasn’t having any of it. 

For years now, he'd grown cynical about Christmas. The magic he once believed in had been replaced with indifference and apathy. He hadn't cared about Santa Claus in ages, and to him, the holiday was just another marketing ploy to make people buy things they didn’t need. He never cared for the usual Christmas cheer—family gatherings, gift exchanges, the whole “being together” thing. In his mind, the whole season was just one big commercialized joke.

To make matters worse, Jason had learned that he was on Santa’s naughty list this year. Not that he cared; he’d long stopped worrying about whether or not he got presents. His rebellious nature had only grown over the years, and he wore it like a badge of honor. Sure, he’d gotten a few reminders from his parents, and even a half-hearted lecture about “the Christmas spirit,” but he had rolled his eyes and shrugged them off. If Santa didn’t like it, well, that was his problem.

The house was quiet, except for the sound of Christmas music drifting from the kitchen. Jason scrolled through his phone, avoiding the festivities and ignoring his family’s attempts to engage him. His mom had baked a fresh batch of gingerbread cookies, filling the house with the sweet, warm smell of cinnamon, nutmeg, and molasses. But Jason wasn’t in the mood for any of it. He wasn’t interested in the cookies, the hot cocoa, or even the Christmas tree standing tall in the corner of the living room, its lights twinkling with innocent holiday joy. 

He tossed a glance toward the window. The world outside was still, save for the occasional flurry of snowflakes that danced in the light from the streetlamps. Everything felt like it was frozen in time, caught between the present and the past, and Jason couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t belong in this world of traditions anymore.

Suddenly, a strange noise broke his focus.

**Thud.**

It wasn’t the sound of a car driving by, or even the wind against the windows. It was too heavy, too deliberate. Jason sat up, pulling out his earbuds and staring at the ceiling as the sound came again.

**Thud.**

A faint rustle, like something—or someone—was shifting on the roof.

Jason furrowed his brow, rubbing his eyes. What the hell was that? He’d heard noises on the roof before—possibly squirrels or the occasional raccoon—but this was different. The thuds were slow, steady. Almost rhythmic.

**Thud. Thud.**

He shot a glance at the clock. It was well past midnight. His parents had long gone to bed, and there was no one else in the house. It was just him and the sound of whatever was walking—or stomping—on the roof. 

Jason got to his feet and cautiously moved toward the window, pulling back the heavy curtains just enough to peer outside. The yard was still—no one was out there. The sky was dark and clouded, and the only light was from the moon reflecting off the snow. He listened again, straining his ears for any sign of movement, but the thudding had stopped.

Confused and a bit unnerved, Jason shook his head. "Stupid raccoons," he muttered under his breath. He was about to turn away when a faint, sweet scent reached his nose. 

The smell of freshly baked cookies.

It was the same warm, spicy smell of his mom’s gingerbread cookies. But it wasn’t coming from the kitchen. Jason’s eyes widened as he looked toward the staircase. He could smell it more strongly now, wafting down the hall.

“Mom?” he called, but his voice was hoarse from sleep, barely a whisper.

No answer. His parents were definitely asleep—he would have heard them if they were up. Still, Jason’s feet moved almost on their own, pulling him into the hallway, the smell growing stronger as he passed the kitchen and toward the living room. But the cookies... weren’t coming from the kitchen. They were coming from the fireplace.

His breath caught in his throat. The fireplace. 

He hadn’t noticed it before, but now that he was paying attention, it was almost as if the whole room seemed... different. The Christmas tree lights were flickering in a way that made him feel dizzy. A low hum seemed to fill the air, almost like a song playing beneath everything else.

Jason took a hesitant step toward the fireplace. The hearth was cold, empty—nothing unusual. The chimney was clear, but that strange scent—those gingerbread cookies—lingered in the air like an invitation.

He was about to turn away when, out of nowhere, there was a loud **CRASH** from the roof.

This time, it wasn’t a thud or a rustle. It was a full-on slam, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps—big, heavy boots thumping down onto the chimney.

Jason froze. This wasn’t a raccoon. Or a squirrel. 

Suddenly, the air in the living room grew thick with a strange energy, and the lights flickered once more before going completely out. For a moment, the house was plunged into darkness. Jason’s heart raced as he stood there, his pulse pounding in his ears.

Then, from the other side of the room, there was a noise—a deep, heavy breath, like someone exhaling after a long day of hard work.

Jason’s stomach dropped as he realized: something—or *someone*—was in his house.

He didn’t have time to react before the sound of boots against wood echoed down the stairs. A heavy, jolly laugh filled the space, reverberating in the room.

“Ho, ho, ho!” 

Jason’s mind went blank. He couldn’t believe his ears. Standing in the doorway, just beyond the shadows of the hallway, was a large figure dressed in red. A thick, snowy white beard covered his face, and his eyes twinkled in a way that made Jason feel as though he was staring at something from a dream.

There was no mistaking it. It was Santa Claus.

The old man looked at him with a knowing smile. “Well, well, well, Jason Price. You’re still awake?”

Jason could only stand there, his mouth hanging open. His head spun, trying to make sense of what was happening. “Santa...?” he managed to stammer.

Santa chuckled, adjusting the massive sack over his shoulder. “I see you’re on my naughty list this year, young man. But don’t worry, I’ve got something special for you.”

Before Jason could say another word, Santa reached into his sack and pulled out a plate of warm, freshly baked cookies. The same ones that filled the house with their intoxicating scent. He held them out to Jason, his eyes twinkling with a mix of mischief and understanding.

"You’ve been a little too rebellious, haven’t you? Maybe it’s time to find some balance." 

Jason stood there, speechless. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, but one thing was clear: this wasn’t the Christmas he’d been expecting.

With a deep breath, Jason took the plate of cookies. As he did, he realized something—the world outside, the cold, snowy night, and the strange magic filling his house, felt like a new beginning. Maybe being on the naughty list wasn’t the end of it all. Maybe, just maybe, there was something to be learned about Christmas after all.

Jason stood in the middle of the living room, still in disbelief at what was happening. Santa Claus, the jolly old man in red, had just handed him a plate of fresh gingerbread cookies, their spicy scent filling the room and tantalizing his senses. It didn’t seem real—none of it did. But there was Santa, smiling knowingly at him as if he’d been expecting Jason all along.

“Go on,” Santa said with a twinkle in his eye. “Try one. It’s part of the magic, you know.”

Jason hesitated. His stomach, still a little uneasy from all the holiday food he’d already eaten, growled at the prospect of another treat. But despite himself, the cookies looked too delicious to pass up. He picked up one of the small, perfectly shaped gingerbread men, still warm from the oven.

Santa leaned back slightly, his large belly shaking as he chuckled. “Ah, don’t worry, they’re not just cookies. They’ve got a little bit of magic in them. And trust me, they’ll change things for you.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, looking down at the cookie. The idea of magic seemed ludicrous—he wasn’t a little kid anymore, after all. But the cookie smelled so good, and for some reason, he couldn’t resist. He took a bite, letting the sweetness wash over his tongue. The spices, the warmth, the soft crumble of the cookie—it was like nothing he’d ever tasted before.

At first, there was just a sense of satisfaction. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he chewed, feeling the holiday warmth spread through him. But then, something strange happened.

A **tingling sensation** spread from his stomach outward, radiating through his limbs like a wave of warmth. Jason froze, feeling a strange tightness around his waist. His jeans, which were already snug after a day of indulgence, suddenly felt even tighter. His stomach rumbled—not from hunger, but from something else, something *different*.

He looked down in disbelief, his hand instinctively reaching for his midsection. 

Jason blinked, his breath catching in his throat. He could feel it—his clothes were tighter, the waistband of his jeans digging into his belly, and his shirt was now stretching across his chest and stomach. He hadn’t imagined it. It was real. He’d just gained weight. Right there, in the span of a few seconds.

Santa, who had been watching him closely, broke into a warm grin.

“Magic cookies,” Santa explained, his voice as jolly as ever. “Each one makes you gain 10 pounds. I can see you’re starting to understand the magic now.”

Jason’s mouth went dry. “Wait... what?” He stepped back, his mind racing. “You mean... this is real? I just gained 10 pounds in like... a minute?”

Santa chuckled heartily, his belly shaking. “Indeed. Those cookies are no ordinary sweets, my boy. They come from the North Pole, crafted in the heart of the workshop, and they’re a part of my gift for those on the naughty list.”

Jason’s mind was spinning. "But why? Is this your way of punishing me?"

Santa waved his hand dismissively, his eyes gleaming. “No, no, it’s not about punishment. It’s about balance. You’ve been living with too much stubbornness, too much defiance. These cookies are a way to teach you a little lesson about... well, about how good things can come from unexpected places.”

Jason stared at him, still not fully comprehending what was happening. His belly was already feeling heavier, the pressure of the extra weight making him uncomfortably aware of his body. He could feel it in his limbs, in his posture—the slight shift in his center of gravity, the tightness of his clothes.

“So... every cookie I eat—what, I get fatter?” Jason asked, incredulous.

Santa gave him a knowing look. “Not just fatter, my boy. You gain weight in a way that mirrors the choices you make. Each bite reflects the way you approach life, and how much you’re willing to let go of your pride, your ego, and embrace something a little more... *sweet*.”

Jason looked at the plate in his hands. The other cookies were so tempting, so warm, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to keep going down this strange, magical rabbit hole. He’d already felt the effects of the first bite. His jeans were visibly tighter, the waistband straining against the added weight. He could feel his stomach protruding a little more, his face flushed as he glanced at Santa in confusion.

“Don’t worry,” Santa said softly, as if reading Jason’s mind. “You don’t have to eat them all at once. But you should know—you *will* feel the effects. If you keep eating, your body will change. But it’s your choice, Jason. You’re not forced to indulge in the magic if you don’t want to.”

Jason swallowed hard, looking down at the cookie in his hand, then back up at Santa. There was something undeniably *inviting* about it. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt like the right thing to do in the moment. Maybe he could let go of his defiance, even if just for a while. Maybe he could try something new, something he’d never considered before.

“Just one more,” he muttered to himself, almost against his better judgment.

Santa gave him an approving nod. “Ah, good choice. A small step toward a new understanding. Go ahead.”

Jason, a mix of curiosity and temptation swirling in his chest, picked up another cookie. This time, he didn’t hesitate. He bit into it, feeling the warmth and the magic all over again.

Almost immediately, the tingling sensation returned, this time more intense. His stomach seemed to expand as if it were a balloon being inflated. His pants, which were already tight, seemed to fit even more snugly around his hips. His chest felt fuller, as though his body were adjusting to the new weight with an almost *unnatural* rapidity.

He wasn’t sure if it was the magic or his own choices catching up with him, but as the pressure in his belly increased, Jason could only stare at Santa with wide eyes. 

“Okay, that’s... that’s enough,” Jason said, trying to steady himself as his balance shifted. But even as he spoke, the strange sense of satisfaction grew stronger. He felt fuller, heavier, but oddly more *content* than he’d ever felt in his rebellious, defiant existence.

Jason looked down at himself. He didn’t know how much weight he’d gained this time, but the sensation was undeniable. He couldn’t ignore the tightness in his shirt or the weight of his stomach. It was clear that he was becoming a different version of himself with every bite, both physically and, in some strange way, emotionally.

“You’ve learned a lot tonight,” Santa said, his voice kind but firm. “But remember—there’s always room for change. Christmas can be magic, but only if you let it.”

Jason stared at the remaining cookies on the plate, still warm and tempting. His stomach was already uncomfortably full, and he could feel the pressure in his waistband increasing with every passing second. He was getting heavier, and each bite seemed to make the weight more apparent, pushing against his clothes, straining his chest, and making him feel like his body was no longer his own.

He looked up at Santa, who was watching him with that infuriatingly knowing grin, as though he’d anticipated Jason’s every move. 

“I think I’m done,” Jason muttered, trying to push the plate away. The first two cookies had been enough—too much, in fact. He was starting to regret even eating the first one, feeling the weight settle around his stomach and chest. But the strange part was... he didn’t *hate* it. 

His belly groaned beneath his shirt, a reminder of the two cookies already devoured. It was so full now that the idea of eating any more seemed impossible. Yet, there was something about the air in the room that made him hesitate. It was as if there was an invisible pull toward the cookies, a magnetic force he couldn’t quite explain.

“No more cookies for me, Santa,” Jason said firmly, setting the plate on the coffee table, but even as he spoke, his stomach rumbled loudly, almost as if protesting his decision.

Santa chuckled softly, stepping forward with a gleam in his eye. “Oh, Jason. I think you *might* be mistaken.”

Jason's brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Santa placed a finger on his chin thoughtfully. Then, in a flash, he poked Jason’s belly—just a light tap, right on the soft, bloated area just below his ribs.

**Poke!**

Jason gasped. The instant Santa’s finger made contact with his stomach, a strange sensation flooded his body. His belly seemed to *deflate* for a second. It wasn’t just that the pressure lessened—it was like the food had disappeared. The bloating, the fullness, it all seemed to vanish in an instant, leaving him feeling... strangely empty.

And then, the hunger hit. 

A powerful wave of gnawing emptiness swept over him. His stomach growled, louder than before, a deep, almost painful rumble that seemed to echo in the quiet room. Jason’s eyes widened in shock as the hunger intensified, his gut aching with the need for more food. The pangs were so loud, so insistent, that they drowned out everything else around him.

Jason's hand went instinctively to his stomach, clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if he could somehow keep the sensation at bay. But the hunger didn’t stop. It was as if his body was screaming for food, his insides hollow, desperate for more.

“What the hell—?” Jason breathed, his voice shaking.

Santa just watched him, still grinning, his arms crossed over his chest. “I warned you, Jason. Every bite of these magic cookies does more than just fill your stomach. It changes how you feel. It alters your desires. And now... you can’t stop. You *need* another bite.”

Jason’s hands trembled as he looked at the plate, the third cookie sitting there innocently, just waiting for him to take it. His mind screamed at him not to do it. He didn’t want to eat another cookie. Not now, not after what had already happened.

But the hunger... the gnawing, relentless hunger in his gut... It wouldn’t stop. His body wanted it. Desperately.

“No...” Jason muttered, shaking his head. “I don’t need another cookie. I *don’t*.”

But the moment he said it, the hunger seemed to intensify. His stomach growled so loudly it nearly rattled his ribcage. The pressure returned in full force, and before he knew it, Jason was hunched over, clutching his stomach as if he could somehow stop it.

Santa watched him for a moment longer, his eyes full of knowing mischief. “I think it’s time for the third one, Jason. The hunger can’t be ignored, no matter how much you try.”

Jason’s resistance was faltering. He didn’t want to eat, didn’t want to give in to this strange magic. But his body was betraying him. He was too hungry, too empty, and the cookies were too close.

In a moment of weakness, Jason reached for the third cookie. It felt like an almost automatic response, his hand moving before his mind could even catch up. He didn’t want to, but his body needed it. Desperately.

Santa’s grin widened as Jason took the cookie and, without a second thought, bit into it.

As soon as the warm cookie hit his tongue, Jason could feel it—more than just the sweet flavor. His body reacted instantly. The warmth spread through him like a shock, and that empty sensation he’d felt only moments ago vanished, replaced with an overwhelming fullness. But this time, the fullness was different. It felt deeper. He could feel his stomach stretching, his pants tightening around his waist, and yet... it wasn’t painful. It was almost *comfortable*, in a strange, indulgent way.

Jason’s shirt grew tighter as he chewed, his chest expanding slightly with every bite. He could feel the extra weight settling on his body, his stomach swelling visibly beneath his shirt. With each bite, it was like he was ballooning outward, the weight accumulating rapidly.

He didn’t even notice how much he’d eaten, how much his body had changed until he looked down. His stomach, already soft and heavy, was now noticeably larger, pushing against the waistband of his jeans. His shirt strained to cover the growing mound of flesh beneath it, and the tightness in his pants was unmistakable.

Santa observed the transformation, his eyes gleaming with approval. “There it is, Jason. Just let go. Embrace it.”

Jason’s hands gripped his belly as if to hold the weight in place, but it was no use. He had given in. The hunger had won. 

But something else was happening now. Jason felt a strange, euphoric warmth spreading through his body. It wasn’t just the cookies that were filling him; it was the feeling of *acceptance*. He could almost hear the soft hum of magic surrounding him, as though the cookies had done more than just make him fat. They had somehow made him *feel* full—complete.

Jason swallowed, feeling the heaviness in his stomach, and for the first time, he felt something that wasn’t just hunger or defiance. He felt... *satisfied*. 

Jason had barely finished the third magic cookie when he felt an overwhelming shift in his body. At first, it was subtle—just a slight tightness in his stomach, like it had been stretched to its limits. But it didn’t stop there. 

The first thing Jason noticed was the pressure around his midsection. His jeans, which had already been snug before, felt almost painfully tight now, digging into his waist. His stomach, once slightly bloated from the previous cookies, had ballooned out significantly, pushing against the fabric of his shirt, the soft fabric straining to contain his expanding form. 

His chest had broadened too, his ribcage seeming to expand with every breath. As he looked down, his belly had swollen outward, a soft but firm mound of flesh that jutted noticeably past his waistline. The buttons of his shirt were pulling at the seams, and the waistband of his jeans was digging into his lower belly, the skin a little pink from the pressure. He could almost feel the weight accumulating beneath his hands as they hovered over the growing mass.

Each intake of breath made him acutely aware of how much he had consumed, and the feeling of fullness washed over him in waves. His belly had become an undeniable presence now, a heavy, rounded expanse that clung tightly to his body. It was as if every inch of his skin was occupied by this new weight, the feeling of it seeping into his legs, his arms, his chest. He wasn’t sure how much he had gained in total, but it was clear that his body had changed significantly with each magical bite.

But as he sat there, dazed from the strange magic, he realized that the hunger still hadn’t fully left him. His stomach rumbled again—louder, deeper than before. It was like a growl that reverberated through his entire body, leaving him feeling *empty* despite the vast amount of food he’d just consumed.

And then, before he could even process what was happening, Santa raised his hand with a knowing smile. The plate of cookies seemed to levitate, the two remaining gingerbread men sliding across the table toward Jason. 

Jason blinked. “Wait, what?” he said, still reeling from the effects of the last three cookies. But it was too late—the cookies were already in his hands, as if they’d been beckoned by some invisible force.

Santa's voice was calm, his tone warm. “You didn’t think it would stop at three, did you, Jason? The magic works in ways you can't predict, but now that you're here, it's almost a part of you. Go ahead... just one more bite.”

Jason’s hands trembled as he held the cookie in front of him. The pressure in his stomach was intense, a reminder of the weight he was already carrying. The thought of eating another one should have made him want to stop, but that gnawing emptiness still lingered in his gut, an insatiable, magnetic pull. His eyes traced the cookie’s edges, the sugary glaze gleaming in the soft glow of the Christmas lights. It was impossible to ignore.

Without fully realizing what he was doing, Jason took the first bite of the fourth cookie. His body immediately reacted, that same sensation flooding through him—the warmth, the magic, the sense of immediate satisfaction, and yet, at the same time, a deepening hunger. 

His stomach seemed to lurch, pushing outward with the added weight. The softness of his belly was now undeniable, the expanse of flesh that had once been confined beneath his shirt now visible as it pressed outward, expanding beneath his hands. 

Santa watched him, still smiling. "The magic doesn’t just fill you—it *changes* you, Jason. Every bite is a step toward something new. Something different.”

Jason couldn’t speak as the second cookie was placed into his hands. This time, he didn’t hesitate. He bit into it almost greedily, as if his body needed it. The flavor hit him all at once—spicy, sweet, with a warmth that spread from his mouth to his belly. 

And as soon as the cookie entered his system, he felt the unmistakable weight of it. 

His belly, already massive from the previous cookies, grew further—his stomach expanding with a slow but undeniable pressure. The tightness around his waist was almost unbearable, the waistband of his jeans digging in, as if threatening to burst. His shirt stretched across his chest, pulling tight over the soft, swollen mound of his stomach. The feeling of fullness had become almost overwhelming, as though his body had reached its absolute limit.

And yet, it wasn’t over.

Jason felt a deep, parched thirst suddenly wash over him. His throat felt dry, his mouth cottony. The hunger had finally receded, replaced by an almost desperate need for something to drink. 

Without thinking, Jason reached for the glass of whole milk Santa had left on the table. The cool, white liquid seemed like the only thing that could quench the fire in his throat. 

He brought the glass to his lips and began drinking, each gulp feeling like it was soothing something inside him. The cold milk seemed to settle in his stomach, cooling the heat from the cookies, and for a brief moment, he felt a little relief. But as he drank, his stomach continued to react to the magic in his body.

The pressure inside him was no longer just physical. His body was growing heavier with each swallow, his stomach expanding and stretching with the milk, the cookies, and the magic working its way through him. The fullness in his body wasn’t just in his belly anymore—it was in his arms, his legs, his chest. Jason could feel the weight of it spreading through him, sinking into his bones, his skin. He was *growing* with every bite, every gulp.

The milk, thick and rich, slid down his throat easily, but with every swallow, he could feel the weight of the magic pushing him further, making him feel more bloated, more *filled*. His body felt like it was expanding not just with food, but with *everything*. The magic was seeping into every part of him.

Finally, after Jason finished the milk, he let the glass slip from his hand. His stomach was so full now that it felt like it might burst. He leaned back into the couch, the weight of his belly pressing against his legs. He was *huge*—his shirt now clung to his swollen stomach, unable to cover the full expanse. His pants, once comfortably snug, now felt like they were cutting into his flesh. The waistband dug painfully into his soft belly, the fabric stretching in ways it wasn’t meant to. He couldn’t even move without feeling the tightness, the heaviness in every part of him.

Santa watched all of this unfold, a satisfied look on his face. “You’re learning, Jason. The magic isn’t about controlling you; it’s about showing you how to embrace what’s already inside of you.”

Jason could barely focus on Santa’s words, his mind fogged by the overwhelming sensation of his body. His stomach was so distended, so *full*, that all he could do was sit there, helpless against the pull of the magic. The once rebellious, defiant Jason had surrendered to it, his body irrevocably changed, his appetite insatiable.

Jason let out a loud, unintentional burp as he leaned back into the couch, the pressure in his overstuffed stomach making the sound escape from him. It was so loud, so sudden, that it echoed in the quiet room, a perfect, embarrassing punctuation to the magical meal he had just consumed.

"Excuse me," he muttered sheepishly, though a part of him was too full and too dazed to really care about the manners he normally would’ve worried about. His stomach was so large now that the idea of sitting up or moving was almost laughable. Every inch of his body felt stretched, as though he was on the verge of bursting from the sheer volume of food he had taken in.

Santa chuckled at the sound, an amused glint in his eyes as he looked at Jason’s swollen form. The old man’s gaze shifted down to Jason’s belly, now a soft, round mound pressing against his shirt. It was clear that Jason had eaten well—too well—and now, he was feeling the full force of that magic.

Jason sighed deeply, rubbing his hands over his belly as it grumbled, still not fully content despite the massive intake. It wasn’t just a growl anymore, it was an ache—one that he couldn’t ignore, no matter how much he tried to distract himself.

"I’m... I’m going to go back upstairs to bed," Jason muttered, his voice thick from the fullness in his stomach. He could feel the weight of the cookies pressing down on him, and though he had no desire to move, he knew he had to. His body felt like it had been stretched to its limits, and sleep seemed like the only reprieve from the intense pressure he felt within.

Santa grinned, watching Jason shift uncomfortably on the couch. "You’re going to need a little more than just bed to recover from all this magic, Jason."

Before Jason could protest, Santa’s gloved hand reached out and poked Jason’s bloated stomach lightly. The action was playful, but the effect was instant. Jason gasped, his belly jumping at the poke, a shudder of sensation running through him. The pressure that had been building seemed to momentarily *shift* as his belly responded, like a balloon inflating and deflating under his shirt.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Jason said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll try to be better next year. But… can I just go to bed now? I feel like I’m going to explode.” 

Santa stood up, his merry eyes twinkling as he patted Jason gently on the belly, a soft tap that felt like the final nudge to keep him in place. “You’ve done enough, Jason. Just remember—next year, you’d better be on the nice list if you want to avoid more *magic cookies*. The world can only handle so much Christmas spirit, you know.”

Jason gave a tired but sincere nod, rubbing his now-aching belly. “Yeah, yeah… I’ll be good, I promise.”

With that, he pushed himself slowly to his feet, feeling the weight of his stomach shift as he stood, and made his way toward the stairs. Every step was a little slower than usual, his body heavy, swollen, and full. But it was Christmas, after all. He had indulged in the magic, and now, all he wanted was to sleep it off.

Before he disappeared up the stairs, he turned to glance back at Santa, who was still standing by the tree, watching him with that playful smile.

“Merry Christmas, Jason,” Santa said, his voice full of warmth.

Jason nodded, a smile tugging at his lips despite the discomfort. “Merry Christmas, Santa. And… thanks for the cookies.”

Santa’s eyes twinkled, his voice low and full of mirth. “Don’t mention it, kid. Just remember, no more naughty behavior next year.”

Jason was already regretting every bite as he made his way up the stairs. It wasn’t just the slow, lumbering pace of his steps, but the deep, weighted feeling of his body. Every movement felt heavier, every step more sluggish than the last. He had never felt so *slow* before. His legs seemed to protest with each step, the weight of the magic cookies settling into his body like a dense, unshakable fog.

Fifty extra pounds felt like a mountain on his frame—his stomach, still swollen from the five cookies and glass of milk, jutted out in front of him like a balloon. It was soft, round, and *massive*, and with every step he took, it seemed to pull down on him, making his movements even more labored. His shirt stretched uncomfortably across his chest, and his waistband was cutting into his belly, the fabric straining against the sheer size of him.

By the time he reached the top of the stairs, Jason was panting, exhausted from the simple effort of going up. He stopped in front of the bathroom mirror, his reflection hitting him like a slap. 

The sight of himself was almost foreign—his once lean frame had been completely transformed. His belly now looked like it was carrying a small beach ball in it. His shirt clung tightly to his swollen gut, the fabric stretched to its limits. Jason’s chest had widened as well, and his arms, once muscular but lean, now seemed thick and heavy, filled with the extra weight that had accumulated over the course of the night. His pants, which used to fit comfortably, were now pinching at the waist, the fabric pulling tight against his thickened thighs and hips.

Jason stared at himself for a moment, taking it all in. His face looked rounder too, a soft flush of color on his cheeks, as if the weight had even settled there. His lips parted, a silent exhale escaping as he looked down at his bloated belly once more, still feeling the pressure build, almost as if he had more room to grow. The fullness inside him was so intense that he could hear his own stomach growling softly, even though he knew he couldn’t possibly eat another thing.

“God, this is insane,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. The discomfort was real, but so was the strange sensation of satisfaction—like he’d just indulged in something he couldn't control. Magic had a way of making everything *feel* so much more intense. And now, he had no choice but to live with the results.

With a sigh, Jason turned away from the mirror, giving his stomach a gentle rub as if comforting the weight inside him. He felt his body shift, a slight jiggle in his belly as he moved toward his bedroom. It was impossible to ignore the strain on his clothes, or the constant pressure on his stomach, but there was nothing he could do about it now. 

He collapsed onto his bed, the soft mattress groaning under his new weight. The cool sheets felt nice against his warm skin, but his stomach was too tight, too swollen to allow him to get comfortable. He shifted a bit, but his belly was so large now that it wouldn’t let him relax fully.

Just as he was about to close his eyes and try to forget about the strange night he’d had, a familiar scent wafted through the room. It was faint at first, but unmistakable—the sweet, warm smell of freshly baked cookies. Jason’s eyes popped open, his heart skipping a beat.

“No way…” he murmured, lifting his head from the pillow to sniff the air more intently. The scent was drifting in from somewhere. The familiar, inviting aroma of gingerbread, sugar, and spice. It wasn’t just in his mind, he could *smell* it.

Jason groaned, his stomach grumbling again, this time from something more than just fullness. It was that same deep, empty hunger he had felt earlier—magically induced, of course—but it was so overwhelming that he almost couldn’t fight it. His body *wanted* more. 

His eyes darted toward the door, half-expecting Santa to appear, carrying another plate of magic cookies. He could already picture them—those warm, sugary treats, the kind that filled him with a sense of indulgence and the promise of more weight, more fullness. 

The thought alone was enough to make him sit up, but the pressure in his belly made him stop. He didn’t know if he could take more, but the smell—*oh, the smell*—was so tempting, so irresistible. 

He groaned and turned over onto his side, clutching at his belly, trying to settle himself down. *Not again,* he told himself. *I’ve had enough for one night.*

But the scent was still there. Faint, but lingering. And Jason realized, with a sinking feeling, that no matter how much he tried to ignore it, that magic had already sunk deep into his bones. It wasn’t just in his body—it was in his mind too.

With a frustrated sigh, Jason closed his eyes again, trying to push away the hunger, the pull of that magic. 

But somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that the next time he smelled those cookies, he might not be able to resist. The thought made him shudder, even as he drifted off to sleep, his body still heavy and full, his stomach aching from the weight of what he had already consumed. 

Part 2 will be posted on December 25th

[nhlclover]

CHRISTMAS PJ’S ARBER XHEKAJ

— event masterlist !

pairing: fem!reader x arber xhekaj

summary: never one to cave to your antics, arber finally does when you buy matching christmas pyjamas for the two of you.

warnings: none!

wc: 1.29k

notes: sixth piece of my 12 days of xmas celly! i can just imagine trying to coax arber into little self care activities and him having none of it

The first time you tried to coax Arber into wearing a facemask, he stared at you as though you'd just suggested he should sprout wings and fly to the moon. He leaned against the doorway, his solid frame eclipsing the light from the hallway, arms folded across his broad chest in a posture of amused resistance. You were perched on the edge of the bathroom sink, a strip of mint-green clay smeared across your cheeks, grinning at him.

“I’m not putting that on my face,” he said, his voice rumbling with a finality that allowed no argument.

You’d argued anyway, of course.

“It’s not just about skincare — it’s fun!” you’d said, lifting the pot of face mask. “You can be a part of the experience. Bonding time! Come on, what’s the harm?”

Arber’s jaw tightened, though the corner of his mouth twitched as if fighting a reluctant smile. “Hard pass. Thanks, though.”

It became a routine, this back-and-forth between you—your bubbling excitement meeting his steady practicality. When you tried to pluck his eyebrows, telling him they were getting out of hand, he had held your hand in his for a long moment, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your stomach flip, and simply said, “No.”

And yet, despite his stubbornness, you never doubted that Arber loved you. He loved you in the way he always pulled you closer when you snuggled on the couch, his large hands gentle on your shoulders. He loved you in the way he always remembered your coffee order, down to the extra shot of espresso you always got. He loved you in the way he kissed your forehead before heading out the door, as though sealing a promise that he’d always come back.

But love, you knew, didn’t mean unreserved compliance with your whims.

So when December rolled around and you unveiled the matching Christmas pyjamas, you braced yourself for another rejection. They were kitschy in the best way — white flannel pyjamas with Christmas trees scattered across the fabric. You presented them with a flourish, holding them up against your chest and grinning.

“Absolutely not,” was Arber’s immediate response, though his tone lacked the conviction it usually carried.

You pouted, clutching your own pyjamas to your chest. “Come on, Arber. It’s Christmas! It’s festive! Plus, I already sent a teaser to our moms.”

His brow furrowed. “You did what?”

“Teased a surprise. If I don’t send them photos of us wearing them, people will riot,” you said, only half-joking.

Arber sighed deeply, the kind of sigh that spoke of a man resigning himself to fate. “This is blackmail,” he muttered, though the spark in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

That evening, as you flitted around the kitchen making a batch of shortbread cookies, you heard the sound of the bedroom door creaking open. You turned to find him standing there, his expression half-sheepish, half-defiant.

He was wearing the pyjamas.

The fabric clung awkwardly to his muscular frame, the sleeves stretched just a bit too tight around his biceps. The ridiculous reindeer pattern seemed incongruous on a man as solid and stoic as Arber, and yet—your heart swelled with affection at the sight.

The ridiculous pattern seemed out of place on a man as solid and stoic as Arber, and yet — your heart swelled with affection at the sight.

“You look amazing,” you declared, bounding over to him and beaming up at his slightly embarrassed face. “Look at us! We’re adorable!”

Arber glanced down at himself, then at you, your matching pyjamas fitting far more comfortably. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased.

“You’re happy?” he asked, his voice quieter now, as though your answer mattered more than he wanted to admit.

“Ridiculously so,” you replied, and you weren’t exaggerating. The sight of him — this man who so often resisted your playful schemes, now standing here in absurdly festive attire — made your chest ache with a warm, almost unbearable fondness.

“Okay,” he said simply, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “Then I guess this isn’t so bad.”

You threw your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek before pulling him toward the couch. The two of you sat there for hours, watching a Christmas movie of Arber’s choosing (giving him a small win that evening). The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree cast a soft glow over the room. Arber held you close, the faint smell of pine mingling with the warmth of his skin.

And later, when you sent a photo of the two of you in your matching pyjamas to your mothers — Arber grinning despite himself, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders — their swooning comments soon poured in.

Your phone buzzed incessantly on the coffee table, lighting up with a flurry of messages. You reached for it, laughing as Arber tried to discreetly peer over your shoulder. He wasn’t fooling anyone; his curiosity was evident in the slight tilt of his head and the way his arm remained snugly around you, holding you close.

The first message came from your mom.

Mom: Oh my gosh! Look at my babies! Arber, you look so handsome in those PJs! The little reindeer is so cute!

You snorted, showing him the text. “See? My mom thinks you’re pulling them off.”

Arber grumbled something incoherent, though his lips quirked up in the faintest of smirks. He was trying hard to act unaffected, but the faint flush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

More messages followed quickly.

Simona: Sweetheart, you two are the CUTEST. Arber, I never thought I'd see the day. Don’t worry, I saved this picture for future family gatherings 😉

You couldn’t contain your laugh, clutching your stomach as Arber groaned beside you, his hand covering his eyes

“She’s never letting me live this down, is she?” he muttered, but the corners of his eyes crinkled with quiet amusement.

“Oh, absolutely not,” you teased. “She’s probably already planning the scrapbook spread.”

You could feel Arber’s chest vibrating against your back as he chuckled, finally breaking down under the avalanche of love and teasing. His amusement was contagious, and you couldn’t stop grinning.

“Okay, okay, enough,” he said, trying to sound gruff but failing miserably as his laughter slipped through. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you agreed without hesitation, shifting so you could look up at him. His expression had softened entirely now, his eyes warm as they met yours. “But admit it. You’re enjoying it a little too.”

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and lingering.

“I’ll admit something,” he said after a beat, his voice low. “Seeing you like this—happy, excited—makes it worth it. Even if it means looking like an overgrown Christmas elf.”

You blinked up at him, caught off guard by the rare candidness of his words. His lips twitched upward, and you could tell he was trying to play it cool, but the sincerity in his eyes was undeniable.

“You’re such a sap,” you murmured, though your voice wavered with emotion.

“Only for you,” he countered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

You sat there in a comfortable silence for a moment, letting the warmth of his presence settle around you. His arm tightened slightly, pulling you closer.

And though you knew he’d never admit it out loud, you caught him glancing at the reflection of the two of you in the darkened window, his lips quirking in a satisfied smile.

In his mind, Arber was already making a note to indulge you more often. Sure, your antics were often ridiculous and sometimes exasperating, but they lit you up in a way that made every second worth it.

[lyrenminth]

Watching the sunset together

Joe Burrow x reader

I hope you enjoy this post. happy season for everyone! Wishing the best for all players and teams.

When Joe announced the vacations to Cabo, you were grateful. After a long season, you could relax and enjoy each other's company.

You stayed in a fancy hotel, eat deliciously and spend a good time walking around. At nights, you went out to eat dinner, went to bed to talk or make puzzles together or have steamy sex on every flat source you could find. It was a nice vacation overall, and you enjoyed Joe's company without the stress was nice. During the off season's beginning Joe was more relaxed, as the time went by and the season was closer he was more grumpy, and during the season you didn't have so much communication because he was so stressed and focused in keeping the team in the game. It was unreal, and at the start of your relationship was a big problem for both. You disliked his personality after a bad game, and he didn't like how incomprehensible you could be. So you talked a lot. About many things. It helped to improve your relationship and the dynamics.

So here were you, watching the sunset in the balcony. Sunsets always made you feel nostalgic for some reason. It was a beautiful sight to behold, and you didn't want to start thinking about anything at all. The balcony's door opened and Joe appeared looking for you.

"Hey" he said, freshly showered. He was a little bit red around the cheeks and forehead, and you made fun of him for it a couple times before. He sat down next to you, your arms touching. "What are we doing?" he asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Thinking about the meaning of life" you answered, seriously.

"Great, my favorite topic" he added, flat. You looked at his handsome face, smiling fondly. "You're such a beautiful shrimp" you teased him. "You won't even let me be, will you?" he answered back, the lines at the corners of his eyes appearing. "Why do you hate sunscreen so much?" you wondered.

"I applied sunscreen!" he replied, all outraged. "You need to apply it every two hours, Joe".

"I won't remember that" he decided.

You sighed, laying your head on his shoulder. The ocean was so beautiful, the red, orange and blue colors blending together, and the sun was split in half. The warm breeze caressed your face and you felt the urge to cry of happiness. It was so silly, but you felt so grateful for all things you got. Including Joe and his steady presence.

Joe always snapped you back to reality. As pragmatic as he was, he helped you to stay grounded. And as the dreamer you were, you help him to relax and enjoy. To see the other side.

Joe's hand searched for yours, his long fingers intertwined with yours. You felt your belly flutter in excitement. And you watched together the sun hide, and the moon rose and started shining. You were running your finger absentmindedly along scar of his knee while you were telling a childhood memory.

"You know what? I love this" he confessed after you finish telling the story about your first time on the beach "I like this a lot"

"What?"

"This" he waved a hand between both. "You made me feel cool"

You laughed. He wasn't romantic in his words, but you understood the meaning behind. The biggest compliment he had given to you was something about you feeling like a football match. "Thrilling, nice, intense" considering he was a football boy, you took it nicely.

"Thanks, you made me feel cool too"

"You know what I mean" he said, a bit embarrassed.

"Yes, I know love"

He kissed your forehead. "Are you hungry?"

"A little bit"

"We should order something or do you prefer to go down?" he asked. Another thing about Joe: he was very considerate about food. He always try to please you when you liked something. Once a bought ten boxes of the cookie brand you liked because you were dating Mr. Because I Can.

"I want to stay with you" you said. You didn't need to explain further.

"Okay, let's check the menu and order" you shiver from the mildly cold, and he ran a hand through your arm to warm you a little bit. "Let's go inside" he whispered in your ear. You felt something tingle between your legs.

You went inside, his phone started buzzing. It was his agent. "Can you order for me?" he apologize and left the room for privacy. You did as told. You laid on the couch, scrolling on your phone to kill time. Joe join you after a couple of minutes, he fell over you on the couch, hiding his face in the curve of your neck. His breath was heavy and warm against your skin.

"What does Matthew want?" you asked. Matt was his agent.

"He wants me to sign a new sponsor for the upcoming season" he said, kissing you neck slightly. You curled your toes, trying not to giggle.

"What type?" he raised his head at your question. His eyes were so blue under that light, and you could count every blond eyelash from there. "Jewelry. Bracelets" you ran your hands through his back, and cupping his ass. He didn't flinched, the opposite. He grinned and dive into a kiss. His tongue made its way inside your mouth, one hand running to your size, stopping at your breasts. You opened your legs to accommodate him between. You sighed feeling his erection against your inner thigh, hard and demanding.

"I'll have you for dinner" he said against your lips. Your hips started humping, looking for that delicious friction you needed. You were pulling his shirt up to undress him when you heard a ring.

And then another one.

"Fuck, who is it?" Joe said, gritted teeth.

"Dinner maybe" you whispered, frozen in place.

"Are you hungry?" your stomach took the perfect moment to answer that with a grumble. "Okay" he said laughing, sitting next to you.

"We have desert" you winked at him.

"Mmmm, I would love that" he said, standing up and reaching the door.

The dinner was delicious, and you spent a good time chatting and joking. Joe told you about his most recent reading, and you did your best to understand what he was saying. At midnight you were feeling sleepy, and so was he, both decided to skip the steamy sex session and have a good sleep.

"God, we're getting older" you mumbled, feeling him hug you from behind, and getting closer to you. He was really warm, and big and cuddly. "We choose to sleep over sex"

"It's fair" he said equally sleepy.

"Night" you whispered.

But he was fast asleep.

[brittle-doughie]

Imagine steadily sneaking out of Dark Cacao's Palace, a flourbag load of pure unadulterated determination keeping your legs sturdy. Painstakingly heading for Beast-Yeast yourself to personally confront Mystic Flour Cookie, finally face-to-face.

First, your dreams. These crestfallen memories; these should not be yours, but yet they use your crust, copied down to how it crackles and crumbles. They walk with your legs and use your voice, and not meekly. Your little colorful buttons and creme filling. Through the eternal eyes of another wearing your broken face, a heavy shade of grief insisting a strong quake through your hands and feet, reflected in a broken mirror of indestructible forks and magic. None of this has ever happened to you, all your friends were alive and running free at the center of Gingerbrave's Kingdom.

Yet the firm echo at the crack of your mind reclaims; it indeed, had.

Second, that encounter and furiously attempted Soul Jam corruption with Shadow Milk Cookie, the dark jester of silken half-truths and rusty riddles; who's immortal darkness swallowed your common sense, that shadow with countless steep blue moon slits never dulled once under the unmoving gaze of the Sun.

But now, this sudden interest-an unpardoned heart from the literal pristine white embodiment of weightless apathy and sincerity?

These situations were too specific, familiar, and suffocatingly personal for mere coincidence.

The Beasts regurd you with an infectious stench of deep nostalgia, their eyes flash an infernal fire of thought, the kind one feels upon shaking hands with an old friend. The one that crawls like a bug, wiggles like a maggot. Growing the sprout of an itch, at an open chip of dry frosting the back of your head. A push, a pull, an annoying yet strong temptation of confrontation; of an acceptance, remembrances. Like they've known you since the very first crumb fell off the Witches' baking pan.

You spent this baked life depending on the protection and care of your beloved friends, but if that interferes with the truth you seek, you will risk falling apart into flour for finally having the chance to confront one of these gods about who you used to be.

Shadow Milk was serious when he countered you into an edge of existential dread. He was a frantic for the dramatics. Even for the most serious of cataclysmic events, he danced around the subject of your connection, hoping to unveil the mystery into stellar applause. That was the plan it seemed at leaat until Pure Vanilla threw a stake into his encore.

Cut through the answers.

With a mountain of luck and enough certainty, perhaps Mystic Flour Cookie will spare you doubts.

After all, even a being like her will neigh overlook such an opportunity; the chance of finally re-welcoming you, where she and the rest of her comrades know you rightfully belong.

She actually feels compelled to thank the merger weak Cookie's influence upon your new body, their mortal stupidity and curious self-preservation was an endless plague all within its very self, almost enough for her to forgive them for slowly erasing the dear memory of your once-divine mark upon these waning lands and lesser soils.

Almost.

(Sorry I have thoughts and lots of then, I hope I ain't bothering you.)

Nah, it’s all good. This was a pretty interesting read!

From what my brain of mush can put together, Y/N was a former Primordial Cookie before being reincarnated into a regular Cookie at some point, you were having dreams of this past life at first to the lead up to the search for White Lily Cookie.

The Shadow Milk fight would be the first time you started questioning on who you really were, but Pure Vanilla/White Lily Cookie pushed him back before you could get answers.

Your reputation seemed to be revered amongst the Beasts, as such with Mystic Flour Cookie. As stated, she could almost forgive the transgressions of having your memory altered, making you forget how you left your mark in these lands. You needed to remember who your allegiances should really go to, to remember who your real comrades were.

You were getting answers from Mystic Flour, in one way or another.

[witches-dream]

The trailer is just. Gorgeous. In every way. The feeling of dizziness, infinity and confusion it gives is impeccable, i love the way everything flows together, i love the gorgeous 3d models and the horror of not really knowing what's real and what's fake. And ofc Japanese Shmilk is ohhhh my god 😳😳😳

Ok so pv doesn't appear to be going alone, he's accompanied by GingerBrave, Strawberry and Wizard who appear a bunch of times, and White Lily, who in pretty sure only appears in the beginning. But in a lot of scenes pv is alone, making me think that he's gonna get separated from the rest after some point.

With the epic releases we've had accompanying the beast and awakened ancient releases, there's been a pattern of the first epic being someone who's on the beasts side and second being someone who's on the ancients side. It's only happened twice though so both of Shmilks epics might be on his side tho. The cookie with dark hair gives me butler vibes. The one with white hair looks like the type of character who appears cute and sweet, but it's secretly fucked up, sorta like Haetae. That's all i can say about them for now

Other than that, the rest of my thoughts are pretty scattered, so let's see

1. Love the music

2. Love the chess and the taro cards and the circus and the eyes theming. Not enough mirrors tho

3. Love whatever the hell this thing is

I really really hope we get some answers about either Blueberry Yogurt Academy or Dark Moon Magic, ideally both, which is what i think this is about

4. This Cookie reminds me of Crimson Moon Acolyte but i may be tripping lol

5. If anyone still had doubts about whether we were gonna get glimpses of pre corrupt Shmilk, i think it's pretty obvious now that we are

6. If this update doesn't make pv's character any more interesting to me I'm gonna be sad (i think he's boring)

7. Again. Where the heck White Lily gone

She appears at the start a couple of times, but the very next scene after the puppeteer one, she's gone. She also doesn't appear in later instances of the rest of the gang appearing, then running up the stairs, getting sucked into the nefarious vortex and on the chess scene. I wonder if Shmilks gonna gaslight pv about that, knowing how important she is to him. Plus Blueberry Yogurt Academy connection again

8. THE STAIRS. I've been listening to Stairwell by Nick Lutsko religiously waiting for this update you don't know how happy i am to see the goddamn stairs. This song to me is from Shmilks pov, singing about pv and "she" is Lily

9. Since when is Shmilk snake-coded. I'm living for it tho

10. I just realized i think the reflection is showing a Shmilkified version of pv. New costume anybody? (Don't have too many hopes for this tho lol)

11. The title screen, again, is gorgeous, probably one of my all-time favorites

So what can we see here? Once again, like with the other beast updates, the presence of the beast is overwhelming, and the hero appears small and insignificant. We can expect this turning the other way around in the second half of the update, though i imagine it will be a bigger change than with Mystic Flour/Dark Cacao and Burning Spice/Golden Cheese. Simply because i can't see pv being in the same position as sm here tbh

We only see one of the new cookies? Where's the second one?

There's cutouts of the other ancients in the picture (and they appear elsewhere in the trailer too) which makes me think that, just like Shmilk compares pv to his past self, he's gonna do that shit about the other ancients too. Just to say like ohhh you have this potential to become evil too you know, all of you.

My theory from a while ago was that Shmilk was gonna show pv the past of the beasts, showing that they too were good and driven by a desire to help others and spread kindness, which could make pv sympathize, because he's a softie like that. Which would then either corrupt pv or make him want to try to "redeem" the beasts and want to help them, which the beasts could obviously abuse. From The devs pov, that's a good way to hype the fans and tease pre-corruption costumes, which i think are 100% coming at some point. (Btw i don't think the coty costume Mystic is gonna get will be her pre-corrupt one, simply because i think that's planned regardless. She's gonna get a different, unique one. Plus, coty costumes are legendaries I'm pretty sure, and i think pre-corrupt costumes are gonna be epics, maybe specials, but deffo not legendaries. Watch me be wrong tho). Similarly to how Dark Cacao got so miserably helpless in his story and Golden Cheese was so physically and mentally drained in hers, i think Vanilla will be in a similar state before awakening too, but he's gonna have to break out of the illusions Shmilk feeds him, so maybe like. He's gonna get very very close to corrupting as a result of Shmilks influence. I hope I'm making sense here lol

12. Last thing i think. The decor set is gonna be sick

[amerricanartwork]

ok fine since you asked so nicely

*provides more cookies*

dont eat too many or else you'll become round

or- roundER anyway

Now that's what I call answering two asks with one post! Featuring more silly superstructure creatures!

Okay, in all seriousness, while I decided to go with the silly and very non-canon drawing idea, if you don't mind I would actually like to leave some ideas related to these asks in a more serious manner with rough descriptions of how I think the Local Group would react if they were offered them some cookies! This is assuming it's the puppets you're talking to, since I actually do have concepts I plan to employ in my AU for a hidden mechanism allowing the iterators to legitimately consume and gain energy from organic matter as "food" when they're off-the-string. If you don't care for these, I don't mind, but they just popped into my mind in response to this ask, and I couldn't resist adding them too!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Looks to the Moon: "Oh, don't worry about me. All I want is to know you and the others have had enough for yourselves, and that you enjoyed them! I'll simply take whatever is left." — Looks to the Moon sees it as her duty to always look out for others first, so if the Local Group were offered any kind of gift, she'd first make sure everyone else got a satisfying share of it, even if it meant she had to miss out. Though she would be rather tempted by the delicious smell of baked goods, the growling of her stomach, and the curiosity to explore something she's heard of and observed many times yet never tried herself before, she'd tell herself (once again) that sacrificing her own satisfaction for others' is The Right Thing To Do™, and therefore she should be glad to give up all the treats to her friends if that was what made them happy. It's perhaps only Sig who would be able to convince her to try some for herself or save her some in secret, at which point she'd savor every bite once assured it was just the two of them and she was allowed to indulge herself without guilt.

No Significant Harassment: "Hey guys! You've gotta try some of these! They smell so good, don't you think, Pebbles?" — Even if he isn't the one who actually makes the cookies himself — whether purely to see if he can, or as some sort of prank towards a friend — if Sig ever managed to obtain some cookies he'd be the first to try them out. Though being a considerate and amicable person who highly values his good relationships, he'd waste no time in sharing them with his friends, making sure to take no more than his fair share. If he were sharing with just the Local Group, he'd definitely make some time to tease Pebbles, Suns, and Wind about their refusal to try them by waving them in their face, making exaggerated noises while savoring the taste, and doing anything else he can to really emphasize just how much they're missing out. But even more so, he'd be the one urging Moon to get some for herself before they're gone, reassuring her that she deserves to enjoy them just as much as any of the others do. And heck, if half the group isn't gonna get any, it would make those three more "happy" for the two of them to eat the rest themselves and rid their friends of the bothersome treats!

Five Pebbles: "Cookies? What use do I have for these? Even with the mechanisms to consume food, I have better means of getting sustenance than to resort to something so useless, yet dangerously addictive. If you were an intelligent creature, you'd dispose of them as well." — Even after he discovers that iterator puppets can consume food, Pebbles is far from happy about it. He already wants to minimize the frequency and amount with which he has to eat, and the thought of succumbing to the Fourth Karmic Urge from a sugary food that's especially easy to overindulge in, combined with Sig's unrelenting teasing reinforcing the "danger" of indulging in the cookies, would be more than enough to make him quickly yet firmly reject it. He would stay committed to remain "above" the simpler creatures of the world who would gladly gobble up such an offering in an instant, no matter how enticed he too would be by the scent and delectable appearance or how much hidden envy he'd feel from seeing the others enjoying them.

Seven Red Suns: "I cannot believe it! You truly thought a divine being like myself would ever succumb to the temptations of a small confection? It's clear you've lost sight of the Great Problem! Quick, we must provide you a new means of sustenance to cleanse you of your worldly attachment to these treats!" — Suns is perhaps even worse than Pebbles when it comes to "worldly attachments". Not only would he immediately refuse the idea of betraying Transcendental Ascensionism by indulging in something so basic, yet so easy to grow overly attached to, but he'd give anyone who offered them a long lecture about how they must have succumbed to "sin" and "temptation" to even have thought about giving him some, then try to be their savior by urging them to "separate" from these attachments. He would demand they not just immediately throw away every one of the cookies, but that they permanently revoke any and all but the most light, plain, and flavorless forms of sustenance from their diet as soon as possible, if not also immediately. And while he would definitely be slightly less condescending and forceful on the surface with them, don't think the Local Group would be spared if he caught any of them enjoying cookies either. Most likely he and Sig would end up in an argument about it, with Sig teasing and exploiting the flaws in Suns's logic and Suns doing his best to maintain his assertion that cookies will doom all but the very highest of creatures to suffer in the Cycles forever.

Chasing Wind: "... You disturbed me for these? Is that all?" — Chasing Wind would be utterly unimpressed by an offer of almost anything that isn't a rational solution to an important problem, which includes cookies, and would be unable to understand why Sig — and Moon, once she'd pick up on it — seems to enjoy them so much. In fact, she'd most likely assume it was a prank from him, yet either way would be mad at whoever else interrupted her work just to bother her with something so "useless" and unimportant. Perhaps the only reason she'd even try them would be if someone were to be especially annoying and beg her over and over to give them a try, after which she'd give it one taste and consume one piece just to shut them up, remain utterly unimpressed and additionally upset at the anticlimax, and scoff before returning to her previous work, with a mental note to ignore future inquiries from whoever had the audacity to waste her time with cookies, of all things.

Unparalleled Innocence: "Those look really good... Uh, um... I-if it isn't, I mean... I hope it's not bad... but, uh... c-could I, um... could I have one...?" — Innocence is always curious about new things, and would probably be the first of the Local Group to notice and take interest in the cookies as soon as she sees them or smells them. However, her biggest problem would be working up the confidence to try one for herself, fearing that the rest of the Local Group would be too busy indulging themselves to even hear her ask for some, let alone actually agree to share some with her of all people when they could just as easily continue sharing them amongst themselves. It'd probably have to be either Sig or Moon explicitly giving her permission to take some (and then to take more than one) to convince her to actually try one. Though rest assured, of all the Local Group she'd perhaps savor them the most of all, having read stories about such treats countless times and simply cherishing the chance to finally experience their deliciousness for herself.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Once again, this was just something that came to my mind after seeing these asks, but I thought it was cute! I hope to get back into the swing of making longer posts about my headcanons and whatnot for these characters! Regardless, I hope you enjoyed this!

[quillcraftconquer]

Beneath Us Pt. 2

1.1k words

Part 1

11 years ago

“Hand me the wire cutters.” Simon said, gesturing to the bag of tools sitting next to me on the tailgate of the humvee. I dug through the bag, passing the cutters to his outstretched hand. He snipped away at the barbed wire lining the top of the base's fence, pulling it taut and resecuring it. 

“Pliers?” He asked, reaching back down. Simon was 2 years my senior, a corporal paired with our troop containing 2 other soldiers and Bull, who I had befriended a year ago during enlistment. 

“I feel like this is going to be a ‘mouse asking for a cookie’ assignment.” I said, passing the pliers up to him. Simon paused, staring down at me from where he stood on the edge of the tailgate. The sun had begun to set half an hour ago, and a chill had crept into the air. Simon had noticed the fenceline uncoiled just as we were ending our day, and said, or rather, demanded, it be fixed tonight. 

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” Simon asked, his gloved hand wrapping around the pliers. 

“You know, the children’s book. If you give a mouse a cookie, he’ll ask for a glass of milk? You’re the mouse, the fence is the cookie. First it was “lets just flag it for tomorrow”, then it was “Well, lets just re-secure the barbed wire.” Now it's almost dark, we're building a new fence, and I didn't bring a jacket.” I said. 

Simon glanced back down at me, a blank look in his eye laced with amusement. 

“When we met, you called me Clifford after the dog, and now I’m a mouse?” He asked.

“Well, Bull and I decided it wasn't an immense amount of love that made you that big, so we had to toss ‘Clifford’ out. Have you never had a children's book read to you?” I asked jokingly. The humvee squeaked in protest as Simon hopped off the tailgate, tossing the pliers back into the bag.

“‘The Wind in the Willows.” Simon answered. I smiled, ignoring the chill that began to nip at my skin under my clothes. Simon had a dry sense of humor and intense focus for his job. It was rare when our conversation didn't contain either of the two.

“Who would I be in that?” I asked. Simon tossed the tool bag further into the bed of the humvee, leaning against the tailgate as he crossed his arms and stared at me in silence. The illumination of the moon casted a soft shadow over the right side of Simon’s face, but he was still handsome. He had a sharp jawline, short hair that teetered between light brunette and dirty blonde, and full lips I often thought about when I had nothing better to do. He was lean, but not skinny. He looked stern, and his perfected scowl would have had people guessing he was in his mid to late twenties, not 21.

“Rat.” Simon answered, tilting his head to the side. I shook my head, clearing the appreciative thoughts of Simon’s body.

“A rat?” I gawked at him. 

“You called me a dog and a mouse, and Ratty is a good character.” Simon argued.

“Clifford is a dog who is so big because he was loved too much, and Mouse is an adorable little mouse who just wants a glass of milk to go with his cookie. I’m a rat?” I said, sliding off the tailgate as SImon closed it up. He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, a smirk creeping on his face as he made his way to the driver's side. 

“If I’m the rat, who are you?” I asked, settling into the passenger side as Simon made his way back to the bunkhouses.

“You read it and tell me.” Simon answered, pulling into a parking space and removing his gloves.

“I don’t own it.” I said, and Simon unbuckled and turned to look at me. I held my breath as his gaze dropped to my lips, before meeting my eyes again. Soft tendrils of vapor escaped his mouth as he breathed against the cold. HIs hand rose off the center console, his knuckles scraping against my cheek as he moved the hair away from my face. He rested his hand against the side of my neck, his thumb grazing the bottom of my jaw. Gently, he pulled me closer to him, pausing as if to ask permission. I closed the gap between us, pressing my lips against his. Everything about his touch was tentative but soft, as if he was afraid I would go into the bunkhouse singing praises about the kiss. Finally, he pulled away, remaining close enough I could feel the heat from his exhale hitting my cheek.

“I’ll buy it for you.” He breathed, letting his hand drop from my face. He leaned away, pulling open the door of the humvee, and leaving me to reminisce.

Present

I hate the cold. It wasn't just the biting chill that made me hate it, it was the way it invaded every part of my body. When the temperature dropped, it felt like the world was going to war with my body. Hating the cold was more than physical, it ate at me mentally. It gnawed at my spirit, unraveling something deep inside like a slow, tortuous suffocation. I hated the cold because of the slow, relentless nature of it- how it didn't just stop. It pressed on, day after day, hour after hour, until it felt like there was no escape. 

“I miss Texas.” Maverick grumbled, hauling his bag over his shoulder. I snorted in response.

“I miss beer. Do they have beer here, or are they a strictly ‘tea only’ type of Brit?” Ethan asked. I focused on the body approaching us from one of the buildings, and turned to face both Ethan and Maverick.

“Ethan, until you hear me say “alright, lets head home.”, you are on strict no drinking orders. Maverick, I don't care how many opportunities you see to make a jab at the British, you keep it to yourself. This isn’t a ‘me against them’, we officially became a team when we agreed to the mission. I’m trusting them with your lives, and you will learn to do the same. Understood?” I said, and Maverick and Ethan nodded.

“Lieutenant.” The voice behind us called, and I turned to face their Captain. He extended his hand out to me, nodding at the building behind him. 

“Come inside, get settled. I’ll have Sergeant MacTavish show you around.” Captain Price said, and I followed him into the building. Their living space was small, accompanied by a couch, a coffee table, and a small dining area. My eyes flicked across the counter top, landing on the box of tea. I glanced over at Ethan, who was biting his bottom lip to contain the stupid. I gave him a stern shake of my head, and his cheeks twitched in an attempt to hide his smile. 

“Here they are. Lieutenant, this is Sergeant MacTavish, Sergeant Garrick, and Ghost.”.

[writingforstraykids]

No more secrets

Pairing: Minho x Chan x fem!reader / Minchan x fem!reader

Word Count: 2426

Summary: Minho longs for nothing more than to show everyone how much he loves you and Chan. Due to past events and worries about their careers, only Chan's and your relationship is public. After getting back from a trip, he can't cope with being Chan's and your dirty little secret anymore.

Tags/Warnings: angst, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort

A/N: Have fun reading 😊~Moon🌙

Minho tiredly rubs his neck and pulls his suitcase after him, ignoring the cameras flashing around them. They just landed, coming back from a few days on tour abroad. He scans the members close to him, but none of them is Chan. Where the hell did his boyfriend vanish? He had been right in front of him only a few minutes ago. Minho bites back an annoyed groan and decides to look for you instead, knowing you'd pick them up as always. He smiles as he sees you running towards him, and his heart skips a beat at how happy you look to see…Chan. You fall into Chan's arms, who hugs you tightly and spins you around laughing. He stops walking, almost causing Seungmin to trip over him, and watches the pair of you with a sad smile. 

Chan and he had been a couple for four and a half years, and Minho wouldn't want to miss a second. About two years ago, you became Chan's new assistant, and only half a year later, you were part of their relationship. Both Chan and Minho had fallen for you, and luckily, you also fell in love with them. Chan and you got caught kissing on camera once, and you all decided to make it public that you were a couple. Minho had still been too worried to open up about Chan and him, so avoiding the rumors seemed like a good idea. Nevertheless, watching the two of you in public always hurt a little, knowing he couldn't be part of it. Not there. He felt like your little secret, and when he felt really down, he hated that he and Chan had been a thing for so long but weren't official compared to Chan and you. Or himself and you. 

He had managed to pretend not to care for the past six months, but it was getting harder every time.

Minho almost feels jealous seeing you two kiss, knowing the feeling of Chan's full lips and your soft ones all too well. He knows how Chan's back feels beneath your hand that's buried in his shirt. He knows how your hair feels between Chan's fingers that linger on the back of your neck. He can almost hear Chan's raspy voice whispering, 'I love you.' and see your sweet smile as you respond. He gives himself a mental push and drags himself forward toward the pair of you. 

You let go of Chan and smile at him sweetly, your eyes beaming with love. "Hey." 

"Hey," Minho gives back with a gentle smile. 

"I have so many pictures of Soonie, Doongie, and Dori to show you," you tell him excitedly. 

"Yeah?" he asks softly, and you take Chan's hand, walking between them as you make your way to your car. 

"Yes! Also, I made you some cookies," you tell them, very happy about your boyfriends finally being reunited with you. 

"That's nice, darling," Minho comments and keeps his eyes forward stubbornly.

Chan glances over at him worriedly. "You're okay, kitten?" 

"Of course, Chan," Minho says, still not looking at them. "Where's your car?" 

"Uh, not far from here," you answer and look at him observantly for a moment. You could tell something was wrong; you just didn't know what. You exchange a glance with Chan as Minho gets into the back of your car and slams the door closed a little too loudly. "You two had a fight?" 

"No, everything was fine," Chan tells you, frowning softly before getting in at the back as well. 

"What are you doing?" Minho asks, irritated as you start the car, and Chan buckles up next to him instead of in the passenger seat. 

"I don't know. Sitting next to my very beautiful and clearly upset boyfriend?" he asks, and Minho stares at him for a moment before quickly looking away. "I thought we were okay." 

"We are okay, love," Minho simply says, keeping his eyes on the road as you drive them home. 

"Did I do something that hurt you?" you ask gently, glancing back at him through the mirror. 

"No, darling," he shakes his head and chews on his lower lip as Chan hesitantly takes his hand. Minho intertwines their fingers, desperate for some physical touch of the ones he loves. 

"What's wrong, Min?" Chan asks softly. "Is there something we can do to make it better?" 

"I'm tired, that's all," he smiles bravely and closes his eyes as Chan plants a soft kiss on his temple. 

"Maybe some cuddles will help?" you suggest, and Minho flashes you a soft smile through the mirror. 

"Maybe." 

As soon as the front door to your shared home closes, you fall into Minho's arms, hugging him close and pulling him into a kiss. He can't help but smile at the feeling and hugs you back. "I really missed you, baby boy," you tell him. 

"I missed you too," he smiles softly and meets Chan's eyes as the older one cups his cheek. Only a moment later, Chan's full lips connect with his, a pleased little hum leaving his throat. Minho kisses back fiercely before suddenly pulling back and lowering his gaze to the floor. There he was, back to being a secret.

You gently put your fingers beneath his chin and make him look at you. Your breath hitches at the tears shimmering in his wide brown eyes. "Min, what's wrong?"

"I hate this," he answers helplessly.

"What?" Chan asks worriedly. 

"This," he says and vaguely waves at the three of you.

You can see the hurt filling Chan's eyes, and gently take their hands, hoping to avoid any misunderstandings. "Let's sit down?" They both follow you reluctantly and sit down on the sofa, Minho between the two of you. 

"You hate our relationship?" Chan asks timidly, and Minho's head spins around, eyes widening in shock. 

"What? No, Channie love, I'd never," he clarifies, and you both can see relief flooding your hyung's face. "I…I hate that I can't show how much you mean to me publicly. I'm just a bystander as soon as we leave the house, and that feels awful," he rambles on, and a big tear falls down his cheek. "I've been nothing but your dirty little secret for four or less years now." 

"Min, I'm so sorry, I had no idea," Chan speaks up softly and soothingly rubs his thigh. 

"Sometimes it just hurts watching the two of you all out in the open," he clarifies and sniffles softly.

You nod gently and take his hand, smiling at the way they fit together perfectly. "I didn't know you were struggling so much with that. I thought you weren't ready for being out in the open." 

"Well, not…not with Chan," he whispers. "We both know we could get in trouble for it or receive serious hate." 

Chan smiles at him sadly and takes his hand. "I'm ready when you are. We've been in this business long enough, I don't care anymore." 

Minho's eyes flicker at him timidly, trying to figure out if he is serious. 

You squeeze his hand gently. "If you want to, we can make our part of this relationship public first. I hate not being able to hold and kiss you like I do at home just as much." 

"How open are you planning to be? Because if it seems like I'm trying to take away Channie's girlfriend, I don't think I want that," he says, anxiously chewing his lower lip. 

"We'd tell the truth. They can do that to me if they want to think badly of someone. After all, I was the one stealing your boyfriend," you smirk at them, and they fondly roll their eyes at you. 

"We'll figure this out, okay?" Chan says gently, and Minho nods. “One step at a time.”

"Okay," he says quietly and giggles as Chan pulls him in tight, and you immediately cuddle up to his side.

"Thank you for telling us," you say, gently fondling his hair. 

"Thank you for understanding," he smiles softly and leans into your touch. 

You smile to yourself, once more reminded of how fitting Chan's pet name was for him. Being the youngest in your relationship, Minho was like your kitten that sometimes needed to be taken care of. 

-

Minho notices the subtle changes rather quickly. You two are out for a walk as Chan is still stuck at the studio, and you soon wrap your arm around his waist. You smile at him as he wraps his arm around your shoulders and lean into him. Later, during lunch, you feed him some bites of your food, just like you do so often at home, and Minho can't help the comforting warmth filling his whole body. You seem just as excited, and he beams at the sparkles in your eyes. Looking at you like this, he once more understands why Chan fell for you so quickly. He had been the first one to approach him about his developing feelings for you, which might only feed his insecurities sometimes. But honestly, who could blame him? You're the best thing that has ever happened to them. Minho tilts his head softly at you and momentarily searches your eyes. "I love you, darling," he says gently, and the way your face softens makes all his worries disappear. 

"I love you too, handsome," you wink at him and pull a sweet giggle from him. 

"We could pick up Channie on our way back. He's been working long enough already again," Minho suggests chuckling, and you nod agreeing. 

"Let's grab some lunch for him. He probably hasn't eaten either yet," you roll your eyes, amused. 

"Probably not," he hums agreeing, and looks down in surprise as you take his hand. “Darling?” he asks stunned.

“What?” you ask innocently and smile up at him. “One step at a time, right?” His smile widens as he intertwines your fingers, and you gently squeeze his hand. 

You soon reach the studio, and after knocking uselessly, Minho opens the door. You giggle, seeing Chan in front of his laptop with his headphones on. “Typical,” you snort softly and smirk at the concentrated look on your boyfriend’s face. Minho lets go of your hand and steps behind Chan, leaning down and wrapping his arms around him. Chan’s whole body relaxes into him, and he immediately leans his head against Minho’s. You smile at them fondly, making Chan relax within seconds was something only Minho could do.

“Hey there,” Minho smiles and turns to kiss his cheek, but Chan is faster and presses his lips against his. He chuckles into the kiss and gently ruffles his hair as he straightens up again. “We brought you some food.”

You hold up the bag, and Chan’s face lights up, making grabby hands toward you. You smirk and put it on his desk before kissing him softly. “You’ll be home soon?”

“I don’t know, I still have to-,” he starts and quickly closes his mouth at your fondly annoyed expression. 

“Babe,” you say, and he groans softly, making Minho laugh. “I can’t keep on sending Min to get you.”

“Fine,” he rolls his eyes, only partly joking.

“He’ll never change, I’ve been trying for almost five years now,” Minho shrugs his shoulders and shoves his hands into his pockets, ignoring the offended look Chan gives him.

“I thought you loved me the way I am,” he pouts. 

“I do. That doesn’t mean some of the things you do won’t concern me from time to time,” he giggles. “Oh, stop looking so sad, Channie love,” he groans.

“Sorry for caring about your health,” you snort, and Chan pokes your side.

“Also, she talks way too much. I need your support,” Minho jokes, and you look at him playfully offended. 

“Excuse me? You can’t stop keep on pointing out all the shit your three babies do all day,” you give back, and he winks at you. 

“Stop bickering, you two, I’ll be home soon,” Chan snorts, knowing damn well you two were just joking to get him home early.

A few months later

Chan and Minho had been a couple for five years today, and you decided to gift them a lovely dinner. They both had insisted on taking you with them, but you told them they deserved to celebrate their five years together. They are having a fanmeeting right now, and you’re backstage to assist them if needed. You giggle to yourself as they have fun performing and doing the challenges of their fans. At some point, all of them are asked to deliver a message to someone among the members, and once it’s Chan’s turn, he gets up and exchanges a short look with you, as if he was asking for your permission. You tilt your head at him before realizing what he was on about and nodding quickly.

“Minho, come here please,” Chan says, and Minho frowns softly but does as he says, stepping next to him. “I have told you a thousand times already, but I should do it more often in public. You mean so much to me, and I love sharing this amazing journey with you. I wouldn’t want to trade one day you’ve been by my side for anything else.”

Minho searches his eyes and swallows softly as Chan takes his hands, soothingly fondling his knuckles. What the hell was he doing?

“I’m proud of you, and I’m even prouder of what we have,” he continues, and Minho subconsciously takes a step back. “Happy five years, Min.”

Minho’s eyes widen, and the crowd grows silent as everyone seems confused by Chan’s words. “Channie,” he whispers, and it echoes through the room, making him flinch softly.

Chan smiles, seeming calm and convinced. “I love you, Minho.” Minho blinks at him rapidly and freezes in shock as Chan connects their lips to a kiss. His eyes close as Chan sinks his hand into his hair just like during their first kiss. He blends out everything, too shocked to sort his thoughts. Pulling back, he stares at Chan, who smiles at him softly. He slowly turns and meets your teary eyes and beaming smile as you watch them and finds himself falling for you all over again. He stretches his hand out for you, and after a moment, you step onto the stage and join your boyfriends, blinded by the bright lights. Your hand meets his, and his best friends start cheering in the back. He blinks back tears and exhales softly. No more secrets.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@soullostinspaceandtime @brownieloved @rebecca-johnson-28 @euphoric-univers @hyunniebunni @mal-lunar-28 @malfoygalaxies

[cookie-lore-keeper]

*crashes through the wall in a pirate ship*

*shows you art of yourself and breaks back out through the window*

AHHHHH THANK YOU!! It's so cute! I love it!

Also, please be careful next time you come into my archives. I'll cover the ship damages, but these archives are over a thousand years old, and documents being harmed would suck.

[sleepingdeath-light]

yandere hcs ; stardust cookie

requested by ; anonymous (23/05/23)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | super epic

character(s) ; stardust cookie

outline ; “yandere stardust cookie headcannons? also your writing is so addicting I keep coming back and rereading all your fics lol”

warning(s) ; unhealthy obsessive behaviours, implied acts of violence, possessive stardust cookie, yandere stardust cookie, stalking

stardust spent the vast majority of his life drifting through the cold and unforgiving void of space — of course he had the stars for company but there are only so many one sided conversations one can have with the cosmos before something snaps

he’d come to the city of wizards seeking answers then companionship then vengeance once he became aware of his origins — and it was through that chaos and anger and fear that he met you

patient, protective, fragile you — a mortal no stronger than a twig yet holding a heart worth far more than its weight in platinum or gold

someone who helped to talk him down from the edge of his mania, who spoke in a voice that rung as bright as galaxies and as warm as the light of a thousand distant stars

you were so familiar despite never having met before — you felt like the cosmos and the void and the life held within, you felt like home

both the home he’d known his whole life and the home he’d been searching for as long as he could breathe in that breathless ocean of stars

he didn’t want to hurt you, to lose you, so then he started to listen — to fold in his wings and retreat his talons until he was human again

human enough, at least

went through all of the necessary motions: fusing with his other half, protecting the city from his attack, apologising and offering his service as an apology

and your companions — but most vitally you — believed him, or at least believed him enough to mostly take him at his word

he promised to keep his distance and help moonlight with her mission of protecting the city and rebuilding it to its former glory and bid you all farewell — biting back his grimace as moon started sighing dreamily about the ocean and it’s song

but he couldn’t stop thinking about you

during the day he was haunted by the brightness of your eyes and the warmth of your hug, ghosts of your fingertips brushing against his spine as he patrolled the ruins of the city from above

and at night your voice tormented him — the tinkling of your laughter morphing into your screams of terror from during his attack, played on repeat like some twisted record that he couldn’t shake or erase

he rarely slept most nights because of it

staying up at night, your face tattooed on the insides of his eyelids — teasing him with how present yet out of reach you were

it had been a month of moon pestering him and him brushing her off before he snapped and tracked you down one night

he’d found you in no time at all, having tracked you with his old friends’ aid (nobody hides from the stars, after all), and he lost his nerve the moment he saw you

asleep, vulnerable and peaceful — completely aware of the entity looming over your resting body

he was torn between taking you then and leaving you be because you were just so… beautiful when you were at rest

beautiful like nature, like the stars, like nebulas, like spiralling galaxies and like everything he’d known and loved — yet you still somehow eclipsed them all

he decided to leave you be

watching over you until the break of dawn, at which point he swiftly took flight and returned to the city before moonlight cookie even realised he was gone

(not that she ever did, all she did most days was sleep and stare out at the ocean)

he goes back the next night

and the next

and the next

and the next

…

he never does anything to you, though, he’d never dream of hurting you — doesn’t even think he could — he just watches you sleep

watches you smile and shuffle around

listens to you sigh and murmur and snore and breath

the most he’s ever done is brush some hair out of your face and lay beside you and listen to you breathe — revelling in the way you subconsciously snuggled closer to him and feeling warmth blossom in his chest at the way you buried your face in his neck

like you knew he was there

like you wanted him to be there

(of course you didn’t, though, you were asleep, but that didn’t stop his mind from wandering)

(from hoping)

and this little routine of his continues for months at a time — him trailing you and laying beside you as you go about your journey, blissfully unaware that you’re being followed

and he never gives you the slightest hint that he’s there, he’s not ready yet, he’s content as an observer

until him

until he stops by earlier than usual after you’ve just drifted off to sleep, face buried in the pillow of an inn that you’d stopped by for the night — your friends sleeping around you, piled in beds and sleeping bags and all so comfortable looking

he almost envied the simplicity

almost

and he didn’t intend to hurt him, but he could hear him from the window ledge of your assigned room

hear his crude remarks about you

about your body, your mouth, how you’d sound

and it infuriated him — bringing out a side of him that he had tried to keep contained since he almost destroyed the city of wizards

and suddenly he’s all wings and talons and teeth as he lures the drunkard outside with the promise of a good lay and good booze — an easier lie than he’d like to admit

he tortures the man until the break of day and brings back one of his ribs to keep safe in his home — a reminder of his role as your protector

(self assigned, of course)

what remained of him wasn’t even recognisable as human — no body to bury except for fragments and smears

and you were none the wiser

nobody talks that way about you — his light, his heart, his home, his you — not the drunk, nor a musician, nor a duke nor a king nor a god

they didn’t deserve you, none of them did

he didn’t either, not really, but that didn’t stop him from coming back

from hoping that one day you’d be able to accept him wholly

to love him

to adore him

to covet him

to want him

not yet — he wasn’t ready — but some day, and he was willing to wait as long as it took

because you were worth it

because he had nothing but time

because he couldn’t imagine a life without you in it

because you were his even if you didn’t realise it yet

his stars, his void, his nebula, his supernova, his everything and more

… if only he could bring himself to finally say it to your face rather than just whispering his affections to the endless night sky

[widowsistersandfriends]

I Saw Taylor Kissing Santa Kloss

Summary: Karlie and Taylor have a secret meet up, leading to the rekindling of their relationship. However, when things start to go right, there's always someone spoiling the fun.

Notes: I had this idea for a while and decided to write it out and see how it goes! Merry Christmas Eve to those who celebrate, and happy holidays to everyone! (PS, there are 27 lyric references for you swifties!)

Also thank you @thenigotthisfamily for helping me brainstorm these ideas! Thanks for loving kaylor as much as I love you 😘

Word Count: 3797

Warnings: There's some swearing and kissing, and of course tickles, so if you are uncomfortable with that, please do not read.

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

Streamers hung from the ceiling. There was glitter on the floor. Lights were strung around the giant mansion. Mistletoe was wrapped around the staircase banister. Lastly, there was a large, decorated tree with a red carpet wrapping around it. This mansion belonged to the one and only: Karlie Kloss. 

This year, Karlie was throwing a massive Christmas party with all of her friends and family. Security was lining the front, checking the list of guests that were expected to attend. Karlie was busy touching up her makeup and then began setting out the charcuterie platters.

A cozy, yet festive atmosphere took over the house. The smell of gingerbread cookies filled the air as the timer on the oven went off. This party was gonna be one for the century. 

Guests started arriving at the door, including Karlie’s sisters and closest friends. Each guest came with a present, as they were participating in a gift exchange. Karlie was wearing a short, sleeveless red dress, showing off the body of a true supermodel. 

After about a half hour, all the guests had arrived and the party was in full swing. Drinks were being downed, snacks were being consumed, and games were being played. 

Karlie was in the middle of her turn for truth or dare, when one of her security guards asked her to come aside. 

“Karlie, your guest is here,” the security guard whispered, leading her away from the crowd. 

A confused look formed on her face, brows furrowed as she was certain everyone on the list was there.

“Hey where’d Karlie go?” Her sister asked.

“I bet it’s her man Josh who just arrived,” someone chimed in, as the group oohed in unison. 

Karlie was led to the front door, fear and caution in her small steps. Unlike her, the security guard seemed very relaxed, reassuring Karlie that this wasn’t what she thought it was.

“She wants to meet you in the garden,” the security guard said softly, guiding Karlie gently outside.

“No! I refuse! I don’t even know who it is! My life could be in danger!” Karlie shouted, backing away.

A familiar shadow appeared into the light. The tall, strong build was nothing new to Karlie. As the mysterious guest stepped through the light, a dark green long sleeve dress was revealed. 

“It’s me, hi,” a soft spoken voice was revealed. 

“Taylor?” 

Taylor looked around sheepishly, avoiding eye contact and giving a little wave. 

Karlie stared at her for a moment, not saying a word. Taylor dared a glance, looking up into those half moon eyes.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?” Karlie asked, shattering her glass on the white tablecloth nearby.

“Wait I can explai–,” Taylor was cut off.

“NO! YOU LISTEN HERE! I have spent years trying to get in touch with you. I even attended your concert for crying out loud! And what do I get? NOTHING!” Karlie shouted, her voice echoing through the mansion.

Taylor looked taken aback, knowing that it was true. She knew Karlie had tried, but sometimes you just don’t know the answer till someone’s on their knees. Oh how she wished Karlie was right now, but it wasn’t the right time.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?!? You come all the way to my house and crash my party to just sit there and not say anything?!?” I SAID SPEAK NOW!” Karlie shouted, almost out of instinct.

What came next was unexpected for both of them. Taylor burst out laughing, hearing the difference in how she had sung it in the past.

“Karlie, what was that?” Taylor asked through hysterical giggles.

Karlie opened her mouth to answer, before a stream of her own giggles spilled out.

“Trust me, I’ll lead you to the garden,” Taylor said, gently grabbing Karlie’s hand.

The two girls put on their coats and walked to the secret garden gate, where Taylor snuck in through every night that summer to seal her fate. Now in the present day, she was experiencing her fate.

“So…chilly night isn’t it?” Taylor asked, now feeling the silence settling in.

“Yep, gets pretty cold here in New York during the winter. Of course, you wouldn’t know since you’re spending all your time at Chiefs games,” Karlie said, with a bite of passive aggressiveness behind her words.

“You really think I want to be there?” Taylor asked, scoffing a bit.

“Well what am I supposed to think when I open up social media and you’re popping up everywhere with that ugly dude,” Karlie said, as the two of them finally arrived at the garden gate.

“Look, I…,” Taylor trailed off. She wasn’t sure how she should explain this.

“Go on,” Karlie said, as Taylor punched in the code to open the gate to Karlie’s secret garden.

“I just got caught up in the moment I guess. I like being pursued, I like having the attention. I now realize it was all a money gimmick and that there’s a difference between being pursued romantically and just whining,” Taylor explained, letting out a sigh.

“What do you mean?” Karlie asked, encouraging her to elaborate. 

“Well, going in I didn’t realize I was just gonna be this big green dollar sign for the NFL. And then I just got sucked in to the attention Travis was giving me that I didn’t realize how awful it looked. He just whines and blasts me on his stupid podcast about not taking his bracelet? I’m sure there’s many people who would love to give me one, and there I was giving in to this guy just because he whined. What lesson am I teaching to the young kids who look up to me? That you’ll get your way if you whine enough?” Taylor asked, as the two had now entered and walked into the garden for a bit. 

Karlie pursed her lips, thinking carefully about what to say next.

“You knew I was chasing you,” Karlie said after a small moment of silence.

“What?” Taylor asked.

“Oh don’t play dumb. You literally told everyone in your vault track. You know, that line about you turning into a shrouded mystery when I was chasing you?” Karlie asked.

“Oh yeah, I remember that like it was yesterday,” Taylor said.

“I guess what I’m not fully over is the fact that you were so careful with us and I didn’t get any of that kind of publicity when I chased you. I knew you liked being pursued, and I was the one of the few who did,” Karlie said angrily. 

“My mom said it was for the best,” Taylor said quietly, knowing she was cornered.

“IT’S ABOUT WHAT YOU THINK IS FOR THE BEST,” Karlie shouted, pointing aggressively towards her. 

“Karlie.” Taylor said, it that oh so even tone of hers. She knew how to calm her down.

“I know you’re mad at me, especially for showing up to your party. But I did want to know. Would you have me? Would you want me? Would you trust me?” Taylor asked, hoping the reference would ring a bell.

“Betty,” Karlie said softly.

“Karlie Elizabeth Kloss. You must live under a rock if you thought I wasn’t thinking of you all these years,” Taylor said, smirking slightly.

“But nobody knows. Everyone thinks you’re happily in a relationship with Travis and that you guys are getting married and everything,” Karlie said.

“No one has to know…” Taylor said.

“Are you hinting that in the middle of the night I appear in your dreams?” Karlie asked, cracking a small smile of hope.

“Oh yeah, they’re some of my wildest dreams,” Taylor said.

“Oh yeah? How so?” Karlie asked.

No matter how confident the greatest singer and songwriter of this century was, Karlie never failed in making her blush. This time was no exception.

I..um, forgot,” Taylor said, reverting into her awkward self.

“You sure about that?” Karlie asked, tilting her head slightly and moving a step closer to Taylor.

“I’m sure Karlie,” Taylor scoffed, rolling her eyes. 

“How evergreen our group of friends huh?” Karlie asked, poking Taylor’s side, referring to her dark green dress.

Taylor jumped away, avoiding eye contact and not saying a word. 

“You know, there’s a party inside,” Karlie said, indirectly inviting her inside. 

“How are you gonna pull this off?” Taylor asked.

“The dress or you crashing my party?” Karlie asked

“Both. You know I only bought this dress so you could take it off,” Taylor said with a smirk.

Karlie got her security guards to clear everyone out, saying that the party was over and that Karlie needed the house to herself.

“Now this party’s just for us,” Karlie said, getting wine for both of them, and handing the glass to Taylor. 

The two were sitting at a small table across from each other, enjoying their drinks.

They glanced up at the same time, both getting a feeling of familiarity.

“Reminds me of the video that Vogue took down on your birthday,” Taylor said with a giggle.

“I remember you yelling at me that I couldn’t look at the paper,” Karlie said with a playful eyeroll. 

“I demand a rematch of the arm wrestle,” Taylor said, fiercely placing her elbow on the table.

“Oh? You want to lose again?” Karlie said, placing hers as well.

“Shut up and fight me,” Taylor said with a competitive glint in her eyes.

“3..2..1 go!” Karlie said, the two of them going at it. Taylor was much stronger now so it was a much closer match.

The two of them were both giggling as the match went on, Taylor now reaching under the table to squeeze Karlie’s knee, causing the other blonde to yelp and lose her strength, resulting in a win for Taylor.

“That’s cheating!” Karlie cried, scooting her chair back from the table to avoid any more tickles.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Taylor said, flexing and kissing her bicep to rub it in Karlie’s face some more.

“Real mature,” Karlie said while shaking her head and grinning.

“Yeah, I’m flexing like a goddamn acrobat,” Taylor said while giggling.

The two of them relocated to the couch, now snacking on one of the many charcuterie boards. 

“All right, spill the tea,” Karlie said, popping a piece of cheese into her mouth. 

“What?” Taylor asked.

“I know you’re hiding more. Come on, feed me,” Karlie said with a smile. 

“I just…I see the media. I see everything that’s posted. I know the truth, and everyone else doesn’t. They picture us as this perfect couple with no flaws, but there’s only so long I can lie to the public and you know I don’t like doing that,” Taylor sighed.

“I mean, they’re partly correct. You have zero flaws. That dude though? Don’t even get me started,” Karlie said with an eye roll of annoyance.

“Oh but you’ve gotten me started,” Taylor said, making a stack of crackers, meat, and cheese.

“I hate his hypocrisy. He goes and blasts the NFL for milking our relationship, and then does the same exact thing on his podcasts and interviews by dropping my name every chance he gets,” Taylor complained.

“And you know, you once said if a man drops your name then you owe him nothing.” Karlie said with a smile.

“Literally. I’m dealing with these rough emotions after what happened in Brazil, and he’s making it about himself. Like I feel like I can’t even grieve without him looking for clout and attention,” Taylor ranted.

Karlie nodded, allowing Taylor to speak her feelings.

“Like I get that we’re popular and good for ratings and media, but does he seriously have to make it that obvious that he’s an attention seeker?” Taylor asked.

“Well, he knows he’s benefitting from this more than you. He’s gonna milk that cow till it’s dry unfortunately,” Karlie replied.

“It just got so out of control. Tabloids started publishing articles that we were gonna get engaged on my birthday,” Taylor said, as Karlie snorted in amusement.

“I’ve seen you out in public with him. You are not a good actress,” Karlie said while laughing.

“It’s just hard when it’s not natural. Like when I giggle and sit in your lap, or give you that look when walking down the runway with you. All of that was so natural and my face gave it all away,” Taylor said, now breaking eye contact.

“You could’ve been a Victoria Secret model if you weren’t so dang good with words,” Karlie said.

“Well, what can I say? Words are kinda my thing,” Taylor chuckled.

“OH! And don’t even get me started on Twitter,” Taylor said, chugging her glass of wine.

“The whole shebang about how his old tweets were wholesome?” Karlie asked, refilling both of their glasses.

“YES! I do not get how people think a person who can’t spell basic words is wholesome. AND THEN, they cover up all the awful things he said in the past,” Taylor said, getting a little angrier.

“What did he say?” Karlie asked.

“Well you can thank our fans for finding it, but basically he called people retarded, made fun of gay people, called women breeders AND made fun of people with eating disorders. Something I suffered from for so long because I never felt I was skinny or fit enough. That hurts, and you know I don’t stand for all those other things he said,” Taylor said, staring into Karlie’s eyes.

“You know we’re in very similar situations. In relationships with guys who don’t match our values and views. Josh and I have very different values and people question the relationship as well. And fuck him for saying all that. It’s hypocritical for him to call people retarted when he can’t even spell simple words,” Karlie ranted.

“I just feel like it takes away all the credibility of all that I have spoken out about. I speak out for women not only in the industry but all women. I support gays and wrote YNTCD to show my solidarity. I spoke out and wrote YOYOK about my eating disorder and how I overcame it. But now everyone is gonna think I don’t mean any of it because of his conflicting views,” Taylor said with annoyance.

“I know it’s frustrating since it kinda questions the credibility of your statements, but you have no idea how much power you have. You are on top of the world right now. If you want this to end, that decision is in your hands,” Karlie explained.

“I just feel stuck. If I break up, everyone is just gonna keep going on about how I can’t keep a man and how I lead the world in most breakups. Then, if I don’t, I’m gonna be stuck with this moocher,” Taylor said, thrusting her head back into a pillow. 

“Or…you could be stuck with me,” Karlie suggested, trying her best to keep her bold facet.

“W-what?” Taylor stuttered.

“You and me. We’d be a big conversation,” Karlie said while smirking.

“But what about Josh? And the kids?” Taylor asked.

“Josh already knows he’s a beard, but he got his wish of having kids. And I absolutely adore the kids, but Josh isn’t really there for them as much as I’d like if I’m being honest,” Karlie said with a sigh.

They sat in silence for a moment, both with thoughts whirling through their heads at 100 mph. 

“I know you’re still mad at me,” Taylor said softly. 

“I’m not really. At least not as much now. I was mad at the sudden drop off and the lack of acknowledgement at your tour, but I couldn’t help feeling so proud of you when you announced 1989 TV. I still remember when I was the first person to listen to the original album,” Karlie said longingly. 

“I knew you were there,” Taylor said quietly.

“Oh, did you?” Karlie asked.

“Why do you think I kept looking up there that night? You’re kind of a giraffe Karlie,” Taylor said teasingly.

“Like that time you kept pointing to me during the Rep Tour during Dress,” Karlie said with a wink.

Taylor rolled her eyes, knowing that she didn’t have a leg to stand on.

“But you know, I still stand by my statement. You belong with me,” Karlie said, shifting closer to Taylor on the couch.

Taylor blushed and looked away, cheeks burning.

“Are you impressed that I actually know your lyrics? Unlike some Burger King looking dude,” Karlie said, making Taylor burst out laughing.

“I am. I’m also impressed by your charisma,” Taylor said, reaching for Karlie’s hand as a gesture for accepting her love.

“Awwww, look at you. You’re always so confident when you’re performing. What’s wrong?” Karlie asked, smirking at Taylor.

“You know I can take my word back, right?” Taylor asked, giving Karlie a look of warning. 

“Alright fine, I’ll tease you later,” Karlie said, now getting up to put stuff away.

After washing up, the two of them were back on the couch again, both in comfy pajamas. 

The two of them were still drunk, and were both a lot more bold than before.

“Ugh my feet hurt. Massage them,” Taylor said, thrusting her bare feet into Karlie’s lap.

“Fine,” Karlie said, sighing with a smile.

“Oooh yeah that feels good. This would be so nice after I perform. My feet always hurt so bad,” Taylor said, adjusting herself on the couch.

“So I’m just gonna be your servant?” Karlie asked playfully.

“At least you’ll be a hot servant,” Taylor said, squealing as Karlie ran a nail up her sole.

“Kahaharlie! No!” Taylor said, sounding more childish than usual.

“No what?” Karlie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Taylor said, regaining her composure again. 

“You’re still ticklish huh?” Karlie said, now using one hand to hold her feet down and the other to tickle up and down her arches.

“NOHO IHIM NOHOHOT,” Taylor laughed, trying to pull her feet away.

“Laughing with my feet in your lap~~” Karlie sang teasingly, making Taylor blush.

“STAHAHAHAP,” Taylor shouted, sitting up to hit Karlie on the shoulder.

“Oh no, you’re in for it. Don’t think I forgot about how you cheated during the arm wrestling match,” Karlie said, moving quickly and pinning Taylor to the couch with her arms above her head.

“IM SORRY,” Taylor shouted immediately, knowing that Karlie was going to destroy her.

“Hmm, I accept your apology but that doesn’t exempt you from punishment,” Karlie said, now using her nails to lightly scratch over Taylor’s sensitive armpits.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA KAHAHAHRLIHIHIE PLEHEHEHEASE,” Taylor laughed. Nothing was more embarrassing than this.

“Yes?” Karlie asked, grinning like a devil. 

“IHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES,” Taylor squealed adorably. 

“That’s the point. The point is to make you suffer from this awful sensation and laugh so I can see that beautiful smile of yours,” Karlie said, now leaning down to blow a raspberry on her neck, earning a loud squeal. 

Karlie repeatedly blew raspberries on her neck while clawing and tickling away at Taylor’s sides.

“IHIHIHI GIHIHIVE,” Taylor screamed, as Karlie relented with a triumphant grin.

Taylor laid there, panting in recovery. 

“You are the absolute worst meanie head on earth,” Taylor said, as Karlie laughed.

“That’s the best you can come up with, lyrical genius?” Karlie teased, poking Taylor’s tummy.

“Stoppppp,” Taylor whined, curling up into a ball.

After Taylor recovered, she couldn’t help but question if Karlie was also ticklish. If she had ever tested during all those years she could’ve gotten so much revenge. 

Taylor reached out slowly, and gently poked Karlie in the ribs, earning a jump from the taller blonde.

“Stop being a pest,” Karlie said playfully, scooting away from her.

“What did you just call me?” Taylor said, pulling Karlie into a tickle hug, clawing at her ribs.

“AHAHAHA AN ANGEHEHEL,” Karlie lied, unable to defend herself, as her arms were trapped. 

“That’s not what I heard. And anyway, if you called me that I would be rolling my eyes, not tickling you,” Taylor said, as she moved her hands towards Karlie’s shiny abs.

“NO! NOT THEHEHEHERE!” Karlie laughed, cursing her muscles for being so ticklish. 

Taylor dared and wiggled her finger into Karlie’s belly button, earning a jolt from the supermodel and a loud plea of laughter. 

“There is nothing I do better than revenge~” Taylor sang teasingly.

“TRUHUHUHUCE!” Karlie cried.

“Hmm, I don’t know…You did a lot worse to me,” Taylor said, now getting up and sitting on Karlie’s shins.

“Now tell me. Does this tickle?” Taylor said, running her nails all over Karlie’s inner thighs.

“YEHEHEHES NOW STAHAHAHAP,” Karlie squealed, unable to kick or protect herself. Taylor was very satisfied when she ran her nails over her inner knee and got Karlie to curse. 

“WHAHAHAT DOHOHO YOHOHOU WAHAHANT,” Karlie screamed.

“Nothing, I just find it hot when you’re laughing and helpless,” Taylor said with a shrug, making Karlie blush while still laughing. 

Eventually Taylor let her up after tormenting her for a little bit longer. 

“Your hair is a mess,” Taylor teased, as if she wasn’t the same just before that.

“You’re still worse than me,” Karlie said while rolling her eyes.

“Uh huh.”

“You know, don’t people usually kiss under the mistletoe?” Karlie asked.

“Is it too soon to do this yet?” Taylor asked.

“You’ve already sat in my lap before, so I may as well be Santa Kloss,” Karlie said, as Taylor laughed at the ridiculous play on words.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this,” Taylor said, as the two of them were now under the mistletoe.

“Me too,” Karlie growled, as the two leaned in. However it was stopped quickly when Karlie said she forgot her Santa hat and how it wouldn’t be ‘Santa Kloss’ without it.

The taller blonde returned quickly, causing Taylor to giggle at the ridiculous situation.

“Now, where were we?” Karlie asked.

“You were being horny,” Taylor teased, as Karlie pinched her side, causing her to yelp.

“No, you’re the one talking about how long you’ve been waiting for this,” Karlie refuted.

“You’re mine,” Taylor stated, leaning up to passionately kiss Karlie. Taylor placed her hands on Karlie’s ass, feeling the familiar toned shape she had felt before. Karlie let out a soft moan of satisfaction, making Taylor’s lips turn upwards during the kiss.

“What the hell is going on?!” A familiar voice rang throughout the house after a couple of minutes of making out.

Karlie turned around quickly, as both of their eyes widened at the sight of Josh and the kids.

There was a moment of silence before one of the kids spoke up.

“I saw Taylor kissing Santa Kloss!!”

“Shade never made anybody less gay. We’ve got some men to dump,” Karlie said quietly to Taylor before walking towards Josh to handle this.

To be continued…

[clementine-side-blog]

Unexpected Visit - W.G

Summary: You are Will Graham's friend, having met through one of his coworkers. Once he gets out of the hospital, he comes to visit, easing your worried mind. It had been months and you were furious.

Content Warning: Explicit language, angst, fluff, mentions of gore, and brief mention of needles.

Word Count: 1.9k

Songs For Inspo:

i always kinda knew you'd be the death of me - Artemas

The Blackest Day - Lana Del Rey

Fade Into You - Mazzy Star

"You asshole! What the fuck?!"

━━━━━━━☆READ BELOW CUT☆━━━━━━━

You didn't expect a knock at your door that night. It was around 10 o'clock and the sky was pitch black, only accompanied by faint dark blue streaks, just like watercolor. The moon was full, illuminating the streets better than any of the streetlamps could do. It was a peaceful night in your small little suburban neighborhood.

And then you heard it.

Three heavy knocks, ringing with authority, coming from your front door. It startled you, the noise, but also with how late it was. You hadn't invited anyone over, it was far too late for Jehovah's witnesses or door to door salesmen, so who was it? God, you wish you never asked, for the answer was conflicting on your heart. When you cracked open the door, cautious about who was behind it, you nearly slammed it shut when you saw him.

William Graham. Former FBI Agent William Graham.

It was so conflicting. Half of you wanted to spit on his shoes, yell curses at him, and slam the door in his face. The other half of you wanted to pull him in, embrace him in a hug, and never let go. In a way, you did both, for the first thing you said to him was...

"You asshole! What the fuck?!"

He winced, looking like a child getting scolded for sneaking a cookie before dinner. For such a tall man, he looked small before you. It was clear that he was hesitant to speak, as it took him a moment to gather his words.

"It's good to see you too, y/n." He chuckled half-heartedly.

Witty Will. Some things never change.

You scoffed, opening the door for him to walk in, though you still wanted to slam it in his face. With a quick turn on your heels, you marched away into the kitchen, not bothering to see if he was following you. You were too angry. The blood in your veins was practically boiling with fury. But some part of you felt relief as well. Relieved to know your friend wasn't dead.

He was silent as he closed the door, removing his shoes, and trailing behind you. Like a sad dog with his tail tucked between his legs, he moped. It wasn't like he was trying to get pity, no, he was just upset that you were so angry with him. Though, you had every right to be. He knew that.

Standing up, he looked down at you as you sat in a chair at the kitchen table. He always wondered why you lived in the suburbs. You didn't have any children, nor a romantic partner, just a dog that was currently dozing off on the couch. While he was in the hospital, especially when he was having trouble sleeping, he'd imagine he was in the house with you. Will would picture himself living with you, going out to dinner with you, and just enjoying sweet domestic moments with you. Maybe it was inappropriate, after all, you two were just friends. But for years, he had always wanted his relationship with you to be more than that.

"I'm..."

He trailed off, looking down to the ground as he sighed. Just before coming inside, he had rehearsed what he was going to say over and over again. But now that he was actually here, standing in front of you, the words escaped him. And even if he did find the right words...would it help at all?

"...y/n, I'm so sorry." He murmured, looking up to hold back his tears.

Will was an open book. He wasn't ashamed to show his emotions, he was comfortable with his masculinity. Crying wasn't weak to him, nor was talking about his feelings. It was a sign of strength in his eyes. He cried often. Will had shed so many tears in the hospital that he was convinced it could fill up a pool.

You ran a hand through your hair, closing your eyes for a brief moment as you shook your head. The urge to forgive him was already tugging at your heart, but you were still angry. You couldn't forgive him yet. It wasn't right. What he did to you wasn't right.

"Will, you wouldn't let me visit you. You told me to leave you alone. You haven't made any form of contact with me ever since you went to the hospital! That was months ago! Sorry isn't going to cut it!" You spat, letting all your pent up feelings out.

It felt like a knife was plummeted into his heart. Each word you said felt like a hand twisting the weapon. It reminded him of the reason he ended up in the hospital in the first place. A shiver ran down his spine, the shudder of his body visible to you.

"I know, I...I didn't handle it in the best way. But I had a reason, y/n, please just let me explain..."

God, he sounded so sad. It was painful to witness. The regret was evident in his tone of voice, as well as the disappointment in his face. He was frustrated with himself. There wasn't a night that went by where he didn't scold himself for being so stupid. His intentions were good, but man did he fuck it up.

You just shrugged, but nodded your head eventually. It was late and you were exhausted. His arrival was unexpected, catching you completely off guard. He couldn't blame you if you were a little frazzled.

Sighing in relief, he walked over to the table, sitting down in the chair closest to yours. He hung his head low, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands. Dragging them down, he folded them together, resting his chin on them as he looked up at you.

"I just...a part of me worried that you would be in danger."

You quirked an eyebrow and he immediately elaborated.

"I know, it's stupid, because Lecter's locked away. But, still, I was paranoid. Maybe it was all the drugs they had me on, I don't know. And a small part of me just...well, just didn't want you to see me like that..." He faded, a bit embarrassed at that last bit.

The quirked eyebrow fell, both of them now furrowing. Confusion was written all over your face. Why did he not want you to see him in the hospital? It made no sense. Will Graham was far from prideful, so it certainly had nothing to do with that. It stumped you.

"I don't understand?"

How could you? It was an odd situation after all. There was no judgement casted on you for your lack of understanding.

"Y/n, I was ashamed." His words were straight to the point.

Your anger had now subsided. Sure, you were still hurt that he hadn't contacted you in months, but at least now you were getting answers. The answers were just a tad more depressing than you thought they would be.

"Ashamed? Of what? That's not like you..."

He nodded.

"I know, but I really fucked up. I should have seen the signs. He was right under my nose the entire time. I was just too blind to notice it."

It felt like your heart sank down into your stomach. Will was never a negative man. That's one of the things you lov-...liked about him. He tried to keep an optimistic view on things, or at least a realistic view. Never pessimistic in his life. Will was the type of person to say "well at least some birds will have a nice treat" if his ice cream fell off his cone and onto the pavement. He was just a sweet, positive, friendly man. So, to hear him say negative things about himself, well, it was jarring. You were starting to understand what was going on and it pained you.

"Hey, no, you did figure it out! Why are you ashamed? You're the reason Hannibal is behind bars. You should be proud of yourself." You tried to encourage him.

To further express your genuineness, you placed a hand on his shoulder. It was a gentle touch, yet comforting. Upon contact, he nearly tensed up, but prevented it from happening. He hadn't seen you in a while, and he hadn't felt your touch in a while. It was starting to hit him about just how much he missed you.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, after almost being killed. I could have died, y/n. I could have died and left..."

His eyes met yours, mouth slightly open. Words wanted to leave his mouth, but they didn't. There was so much he wanted to tell you, but he couldn't build up the nerve. He couldn't speak because there was something he wanted to do. This thing had been on his mind since he arrived at the hospital. It lingered in his every waking moment. He had to do it. He wanted to do it.

"Left wha-"

You were cut off. It felt like a blur, for it all happened so fast, but his hands were cupping your face. And before you knew it, his lips were on yours. The dry weather had caused his lips to be a little dry, but it didn't matter to you that much. You were too enthralled with what was happening to even care. Then, he pulled away, face just inches apart from yours, breathing softly.

"You, y/n. I would have left you."

His rough hands were still against your cheeks. There were little tan band-aids on them, covering up the tiny holes that once had IV's in them. He must have just got out today, which shocked you. He didn't even wait to recover from his long stay, no, he came to see you immediately. He missed you terribly.

"Will..." Your voice was breathy, as if you were whispering.

Slowly, he let his hands fall away from your face. He looked discouraged. He must have taken your response as a form of rejection. You sounded hesitant, but you weren't. In fact, you were ecstatic about what just happened. Your anger and resentment were out the window now that you knew the reason behind what he did. There was no way you could stay mad at him; mad at the man you fell in love with all those years ago.

"I-"

It was your turn to cut him off now. You were a little more passionate about it though. Launching yourself forward, though gently in case his stomach still hurt, you placed your hands on his shoulders. His eyes widened as you kissed him, but they quickly closed, wrapping his arms around your waist. The feeling of his large and labor worn hands on your body, even if it was on your clothing, was something you'd always cherish. It sent a shiver through your body as you pulled away for a breath.

"I'm glad you're still here, Will." You admitted, biting back a wide and goofy smile.

His smile was unable to be held back, however. It spread across his face and his grip on your hips tightened. You blushed, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. Everything about the scenario felt like a dream. But it was all real.

Standing up, he brought you into a tight hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He couldn't prevent it any longer. Tears flowed and his body shook lightly with every sob that left his throat. You rubbed his back, kissing his shoulder as he wept.

"I-I'm not leaving again, I promise. It took a near death experience for me to figure it out, but I can't live without you, y/n. I love you."

All of his thoughts, emotions, and words that had been pent up in his mind for months were now flowing from his lips. His tears trickled down his face, leaving droplets on your shirt, staining it. You didn't mind. Your heart was fluttering to much for you to care about anything other than the three words he said.

"I love you too, Will."

Thank God for that unexpected visit.

[revisitingfandoms]

I got an idea for a prompt to show how the cookies outside of their game of 'cookies and kingdoms'...maybe they are doing a session....like the one where they free dark enchantress and dark enchantress is hyped to be able to FINALLY play a bit! they end up taking a pizza break when the pizzas and snacks y/n ordered for everyone arrives and they pause to eat....maybe end up talking about the session and/or life outside of the game...like gingwrbrave talks about his non-saving the world (because world doesn't need saving since it's basically happy ending thing lol) adventures, dark enchantress could talk about the cake tower and how all the cake citizens and hounds are doing...ooor they can talk about the session and what they hope will happen in it and other session stuff they'd talk about as they eat their delicious pizza and snacks.

Sure thing! Although I kind've went with a more modern take. Both White Lily and Dark Enchantress are half sisters in this AU!

(Also I may have add someone else you might see later down the line for my own planning)

Enjoy!

ANSWERED PROMPT 2- BREAK TIME

The doorbell rings as the group pauses, The current dungeon master- Caramel Shade pauses in what he was doing and turns to one of the game watchers, “Can one of you go get that? I bet its the pizza.” From the silent thumbs up and the dragging a formerly dozing Eternal sugar- it was silent salt who was grabbing it.

Caramel shade then turns back to the actual game players, “Alright, we’re gonna wrap this portion up- As our heroes break open the moonstone containing white lily cookie- Her frown turns to a smirk as she changes right before their eyes. To our hero's horror- white lily cookie has changed into Dark Enchantress cookie!” Caramel Shade looks over his book, “If you could roll for intimation, Enchantress.” 

Reader cookie whistles at the Nat19 role from the white haired woman. The Kiddos watch on in a barely concealed horror. 

Caramel Shade nods, “As the moonstone crumbles- a great cake beast rises with her, its arm carrying Dark enchantress cookie upwards as it frees itself. She commends you for breaking her out of imprisonment.” The kids seem to wilt at Caramel shades next words, “Welp that's all for the morning session- we reconve at two sharp, anyways silent salt should be back with the pizza hop to it.” There's a minor bit of whining but the kids run to the kitchen to grab their slices, White Lily goes over to her older sister- and he vaguely hears the plans they were making. 

Reader cookie walks over with a hum, “So whats the future plans in mind?” Caramel shuffles through his notebook, “Well, I figured that since we’re working in the same universe as the Beasts and Blood campaign that Mirror Moon ran and our previous campaign that I ran, so you can guess what's coming up.” Reader’s eyes widen as they snicker, “Yep, I can’t wait to see Shadow Milk on the table again- that was chaos on its own.” Caramel Shade waves them off, “You go get some food, I’ll join later.” Reader walks off to the kitchen.

Entering the kitchen, Reader cookie notes that the big fold up table was out with a variety of pizzas on the table with a big container with bread bags that was already halfway gone. Several of the younger members were seemingly discussing possible future plans and what they could do while a few of the others namely Strawberry crepe were suggesting that they just join DEC- It was hard to not snort what he was bopped on the nose with a breadstick by the younger custard cookie. 

Reader cookie hums to themself as they walk over the drink and decide to go for a water before nabbing a slice or two of pizza and bread bag. Mengering over to the living room they spot Dark choco suplexing licorice cookie, while velvet did the same to his dog chiffon and Choco Brute did the same to a giggling Poison Mushroom. 

Reader plops onto the couch beside pure vanilla- the older man offers them a smile, “So, I take it custard and his friends are discussing their future plans?” Reader nods as they offer a bread slice- the man originally tries to refuse what accepts after a bit of insistence much to readers' delight. They nod to his original question, “Yep- and I can’t wait for Custards reaction to when you sit down at the table.” The older man opens his eyes with a raised eyebrow before closing them, “Oh, so Caramel shade told you?” Reader snickers, “Nope, just said that thing linked to previous campaigns were gonna show up.” Pure vanilla lets out a laugh with the shake of his head. 

And Custards little screech after they found out pure vanilla was in their team was quite adorable.