#like i had to bake the potatoes first to get the mashed potato then go through the process of making that into dough then shaping then boil

[salty-software-engineer]

I started making pão de queijo at like...0100h and i only just put them in the oven i have to work in the morning why am i like this.

[beloveds-embrace]

(more of poly 141 x roommate reader bc i got enabled: surprising them when they return home)

The aroma of roasted garlic and thyme filled the apartment, and along with it your voice as you fluttered about the kitchen while music played from your phone. You placed plates of perfectly golden roast chicken, mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables on the dining table beside bowls of creamy mushroom soup and a fresh salad and freshly baked bread.

You would never regret that cooking course you picked up. Everything just looked so… perfect. And that was without mentioning the apple pie and chocolate cake you’d also made, set aside on cute little cake pedestals you’d recently bought.

You smoothed the fabric of your skirt, picking up your phone to check on the time; they’d arrive home any moment now and you couldn’t wait to see their reactions. You’d been planning this dinner since yesterday, when Kate Laswell had called to let you know your roommates would be home today after months of being away on a mission so you could prepare this surprise for them.

You’d promised to send her and her lovely wife a big, big portion just for helping you like that. You always get worried when they take this long, but Kate tried her best to keep you up to date about them whenever they had to be no-contact with you.

The sound of the front door unlocking made your pulse quicken, and you hurried to the entryway, a bright smile on your face. You’d made sure even the candles you and Gaz like to collect were lit up, bathing the apartment in a soft golden light.

“Surprise!” you called, spreading your arms as they stepped inside, grin wide and proud.

For a moment, they stood frozen, tired eyes sweeping over the sight of you and the glowing apartment and the lovely smell of a big, warm dinner. Price was the first to move, dropping his bag and crossing the room in several long strides. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a firm embrace, and you melted against him right away, breathing in the familiar scent of him- smoke, leather, and something uniquely John.

“Hi!” You chirped again, patting his back.

“You’ve outdone yourself, love.” he murmured instead of a proper greeting, voice thick with gratitude.

Soap was next, scooping you into a hug so enthusiastic it lifted you off your feet right after John let you go. “Missed ya, lass,” he said, his grin bright despite the weariness in his eyes. “Look at ya, a sight fo’ sore eyes!”

“Put me down, MacTavish!”

Gaz kissed your cheek the second Johnny obeyed, his hand lingering on your shoulder. “You didn’t have to do all this, darling.” he said softly, though the way he looked at you made it clear he appreciated every bit of it.

Ghost, towering behind them, stood silently for a moment. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the nervous smile tugging at your lips. Without a word, he stepped forward and pulled you into his chest, one large hand cradling the back of your head.

“Perfect girl, thank you.” he muttered, so low you barely heard it. But you did feel it rumble through his body.

You laughed, stepping back and gesturing toward the table. You had to know what they thought of it. “Go wash up. Dinner’s ready.”.

Johnny piled his plate high, moaning exaggeratedly at every bite and making you laugh until your sides hurt. Gaz teased him about his lack of table manners while sneaking extra bread rolls for himself. Price, ever the gentleman, made sure your plate was full before his own, and Simon quietly made his way through two full helpings even, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest smile when you nudged him to try the mushroom sauce.

Oh yes, you cooked. In more ways than one. You were so very proud of yourself, felt like you’d blow up like a balloon if they complimented you any more.

“This is the best meal I’ve had in months,” Johnny declared at last, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh and patting his stomach. He turned to you, gently caressing his knuckles across your full cheeks. “Thank ya, lass. Truly an angel.”

“You’ve ruined me for army food forever,” Kyle added, humming as he bit into another spoonful, smiling at your giggles. “Whatever next mission we’ll have is so going to suck, by the way. I mean it.”

Price reached over, covering your hand with his. “You didn’t have to do all this, love, but I’m damn glad you did,” he said, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. His mustache twitched, and he smiled at you. “Kyle’s right, though.”

Simon didn’t speak much, but the way his gaze lingered on you, warm and heavy, spoke volumes. You’d already learned how to decipher his little looks, anyways.

As the evening wound down and they cleaned the kicthen, then went to rest in the living room, you brought out the second surprises: the chocolate cake and apple pie, earning a round of groans and cheers. They insisted on helping with the second round of dishes, but you waved them off, laughing.

“Go relax,” you said, shooing them toward the living room. “This is my treat for you. You were supposed to be relaxing today!”

Though you didn’t notice the way they watched you as you moved about the kitchen.

When you finally joined them, changing into something more comfortable, you curl up on the couch tucked against Simon’s warm side and his arm drape around your shoulders almost instinctively. Soap stretched out across the floor, his head resting on a pillow near your feet, while Kyle sat on the other side of you, casually brushing his hand against yours.

It didn’t take much before you were dozing off, their quiet congestion washing over you as a soothing ambiance. You relaxed even further when you were shifted to lay fully against Simon while Kyle put your feet on his lap and began massaging your calves.

John stood by the balcony, his cigar glowing faintly in the dim light. He looked at you, surrounded by them, and something in his chest loosened.

You were too good for them, truly. Such a lovely, perfect sweetheart. But he also just- couldn’t stand the idea of you being with anyone else. Never.

So he wouldn’t entertain that thought. You were perfect as you were now; just a bit more time, and they’d tell you right out how much they want you in every possible way.

Though he didn’t imagine it’d be that hard, anyways. You already acted like their perfect little wife.

[saudadeko]

ADHD tips from a girlie who was diagnosed in her late twenties and has had little to no support since and is being so brave about it:

1) Make it easy, make it accessible, and make it appealing. If anything this is the most important thing, all tips going forward are based around this concept.

2) That thing you think would help you but you haven’t bought/done it yet because you’re technically surviving without it? Buy it, you need it. It doesn’t matter if people around you might think it’s wasteful or that you’re lazy, you’re not, just do it, trust me.

3) Expanding on tip #2, if you’re like me and eggs are your main source of protein because they’re quick and easy and feeding yourself is a near insurmountable task- buy yourself an electric egg cooker, make a bunch of hard boiled eggs and keep them in your fridge for quick and easy protein to add to any meal (handful of crackers, a hard boiled egg and a banana? 5 star meal right there. Or mash them up with some mayo for egg salad sandwiches). Other easy proteins include: potstickers (put them in instant ramen), edamame (they have microwaveable snack packs), chickpeas (put in salads!), beans (can of beans microwaved with shredded cheese and some tortilla chips), peanut butter (with crackers, apple and cheese, adult lunchable style), and tofu (cut into cubes, throw them into a ziplock with some seasoning and potato starch, shake that shit up and bake it until crispy).

4) Spend a little extra (if you are able) on daily use items that excite you, it will make you more likely to remember/want to do said daily task. For example: the only reason I remember to use sunscreen is because I bought some fancy japanese sunscreen that smells like roses so I get excited to use it, same for laundry detergent and body wash! there’s a gajillion different body wash scents out there, switch it up!

5) If there’s a task you continuously struggle with take a moment to think about which part of the task is making it difficult, it could be something even as small as “I don’t put my dirty clothes in the hamper because my hamper has a lid on it and lifting the lid is one step too many-”, sounds a little stupid huh? But trust your gut, it’s not stupid if it works. See tip #2 and BUY A HAMPER WITHOUT A LID.

6) If you are having trouble starting a task, break the task down further, sometimes the way I start a task is just by going “Ok step 1) stand up-“ and so forth. Don’t worry about the task as a whole just take it one step at a time.

7) If you’re halfway through a task and have to stop, leave it out. All this, “Put things away when you’re done with them.” is bullshit. you will be much more likely to finish the task if restarting it is easier because you left it out plus it’s a visual reminder. You can also create faux deadlines like “I gotta finish this project before my friend comes over on tuesday because after I finish it I can clean off the dinner table.” etc.

8) It’s okay to outsource tasks and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, humans are designed to ask for, and to require help (what do babies do when they’re first born?? cry for help!!) ask for help and receive help without shame, if it makes your life better, you are WINNING.

9) If you have one big overwhelming task that you think you need to get done before anything else, but you feel motivated to do other tasks, do those other tasks first, it’s okay. Otherwise in all likelihood (at least in my case) you’ll put everything off until the last minute and then have to do said overwhelming task and those other tasks won’t get done at all. Doing those smaller tasks also lowers the mental load and you can use them as a motivation launch pad to tackle bigger things.

10) If you notice you tend to not put something away/forget to do something, perhaps consider moving and storing the item closer to where it ultimately ends up or where you are more likely to see it. For example, my makeup, pills, and mail are all stored on my desk because that’s where I tend to do my makeup, take my pills and deal with my mail. I used to store my pills in my bathroom medicine cabinet but all too often I would forget because they weren’t in my line of sight. Now that they’re on my desk, I have multiple chances per day to pass by them, go “oh I gotta take those.” and take them.

11) Open storage, open storage, OPEN STORAGE.

12) Motivation can look like all kinds of things. sometimes the only reason I get out of bed is because I remember I have a fun snack and I get to go eat it if I get up. It’s okay to lean into those simple “animal-brain” type motivators, you’ll eat because then you can use that fun new kitchen gadget you got a daiso? Neat. you’ll shower because then you can paint your nails that fun new color you got? Fantastic. You’ll go to the dmv and do that annoying thing because you’ll take yourself out for boba after? Superb. Lean-IN to those small motivators, they aren’t stupid or childish, they are VITAL.

13) Don’t buy into the cult of “if it’s worth doing, do it properly” it’s guaranteed to set you up for failure. If it’s worth doing, do it in whatever capacity you are able to. I put sunscreen on once a day because that’s fucking better than not doing it at all and I sure as all hell will fail at reapplying it multiple times a day. If it’s worth doing, do it half-assed babieeee.

Go forth and prosper!!! xoxo ✌️🩵

[natalievoncatte]

19. Bake

Leaning against the doorframe, Lena watched as Kara furrowed her brows in concentration so intense that it seemed her project might burst into flames. Literally. She was was craned over a cookbook on the counter and mumbling to herself about pearl-sized beads of butter and exactly what size a pearl is.

She never admitted it, but Kara sometimes she struggled with metaphors like that, little things that a human would know that eluded one of the last survivors of a doomed planet. The others, even Alex, thought it was cute or funny but they didn’t seem to notice the pain in Kara’s eyes or how lost she looked when she missed something others all knew.

Lena stalked up behind her and leaned over the counter beside her.

“Hey,” said Lena.

“Hi,” said Kara.

“What are you up to?”

“I’m making a pumpkin pie for tomorrow, but the dough doesn’t look right.”

Lena looked over Kara’s work and frowned. What she had was most definitely not pie dough. She then glanced at the fridge and saw the list of things Kara was trying to make.

“Hmm,” said Lena.

She opened the fridge and freezer and looked over Kara’s pantry and sighed.

This would not do at all.

“We’re taking a break,” said Lena.

“We?”

“Yes, we.”

In a few minutes she had an Instacart list cobbled together and had placed the order. Kara pouted when her attempted dough went in the bin, but Lena stood firm.

“Let me help you.”

Kara signed. “I want to do it myself.”

Lena’s heart felt like it was climbing up her throat. Kara was so effortlessly pretty that it was, frankly, unfair. Her glasses were off and her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and Lena was obsessed. She had on a baggy t-shirt that softened her lithe, muscular frame and hung a little off one shoulder. She looked so soft despite the cords of steel hard muscle that flexed beneath her silky skin.

It made Lena a little panicky. Sometimes she’d think to herself that seeing Kara every time was just like seeing her for the first time, which was exactly like the first time she looked at another girl *like that* as if some pathway had just opened in her brain.

After the grocery order arrived and Lena bumped the driver’s tip to four figures for coming on the day before Thanksgiving, Lena set to work.

“I’ve never seen you cook,” said Kara.

“In the only one in the family who can,” said Lena, as she scrubbed a potato. “Lillian thought doing menial tasks was beneath our dignity, and forbade it. Of course I snuck out to spend time with the staff.”

Kara looked at her softly.

“Let’s get that pie in the works while these boil,” she said, slipping the potatoes into the pot.

Kara ended up helping more than anything, as Lena worked her way through the list.

“This way we’ll just have to make the turkey tomorrow,” she explained. “The rest will all be done and we’ll have some time to relax before everyone arrives. Is your mother coming?”

“She’s staying with Alex this year,” said Kara.

She was looking at Lena as she spoke, her voice a little distant. A shiver passed down Lena’s spine and she felt her cheeks pink a little, as she glanced away and turned back to grating frozen butter for the pie crust.

Kara sidled closer, seemingly reading the cookbook, but every time Lena looked over, Kara met her gaze and quickly turned away.

“Here you go, darling. Fold it like a letter, turn, fold it like a letter, turn. Do that three times, then back in the fridge for half an hour and we do it again.”

Lena was, in all honesty, doing the real work and giving Kara the simple tasks, like peeling the potatoes (which was easy, because she could not only do so without burning herself, but could also just reach into the boiling water to grab.)

Kara neatly folded the pie crust while Lena mashed the potatoes and pushed them through Kara’s sieve for perfect, Michelin-star restaurant smoothness. Lena was a little daunted by the “green bean casserole”, not exactly standard Luthor thanksgiving fare, but it was easier as she was watched Kara follow her instructions to knead dough for dinner rolls.

They worked in companionable silence, Lena doing one task while Kara did another, and slowly they built up an array of side dishes and a wonderful smelling pumpkin pie that Lena had to practically tear Kara away from. She almost wished she’d made a spare pie for Kara to eat right now.

“I’m huuuuuungry” she pleaded.

Looking over Kara’s now-full fridge, full of delicious Thanksgiving fare ready to be warmed in the oven, she pulled out her phone.

“We’ll get take-away delivered.”

Knowing what she was dealing with, Lena ordered enough Chinese for a small army and ended up picking at spicy beef and broccoli while Kara sat next to her, devouring her own body weight from five different containers.

“Here,” she said, offering Lena a fortune cookie.

Smirking, Lena popped it open and unfurled the little message.

“What’s it say?”

A great opportunity lies before you.

Lena laughed. “Nothing. Now we have to clean up, you know.”

“I can do that, you just relax.”

Lena sank back into the couch -she was tired- while Kara rolled up her sleeves and did the dishes, moving a little too fast for a human, at least until Lena looked over to watch her, studying the flexing muscles in her forearms as she worked. There was something playing on the tv, but it was vastly less interesting.

Kara smelled pleasantly of soap when she plopped on the couch, rocking Lena towards her. She sank back and sighed, letting her head loll over so she could look at Lena.

“Thank you for doing all that work. I’d have been hopeless without you.”

“It was my pleasure,” Lena said, softly.

It was getting late, the sun having long set; they’d toiled in the kitchen past nine o’clock.

It was time for Lena to go home.

Kara looked pensive, pretty eyes downcast.

“You’re coming back tomorrow, right?”

It was an absurd question, profoundly silly, even. Lena had been to every Danvers family get together for the better part of three years now (there was that one missed year, gaping like a void in her chest, but that was over now, they were better, she wouldn’t spend another Thanksgiving drunk on her sofa and sobbing ever again)

Lena wished she’d opened one of the wine bottles. She needed a little help with her courage. Her voice cracked a little when she managed to say, “It’s getting late. I could just stay.”

Her heart was pounding.

Kara’s hand slid along the back of the couch and she crooked one of Lena’s curls around her finger, playing idly with it. They sat close, turned into each other, almost touching.

“You can have the bed,” said Kara. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Lena felt her throat go dry, and squeezed her hands together to keep them from shaking. She was as nervous as a schoolgirl, and it was weirdly delightful. Kara was watching her cocky confidence and a crooked smile.

“I wouldn’t want to put you out,” said Lena. “I trust you to keep your hands to yourself if we share the bed.”

“What will you sleep in?”

“Won’t you let me borrow something?”

Kara made a little gesture with her head. Lena nodded and headed behind the partition that made up Kara’s “bedroom wall” and turned to the clothes rack that served as her closet. Hand trembling, she swept each item aside, stopping when she found an old hoodie.

It was threadbare and the drawstrings were missing and it was much too large for her, but it was perfect, a maroon Midvale High sweatshirt. Lena carefully laid it out on the bed and in a single nervous, trembling motion, pulled her top over her head and set it aside.

It was chilly in the apartment, and her skin pricked with goose pimples as soon as the air hit it. She licked her lips nervously and popped the clasps on her bra before discarding it and dumping the sweatshirt on over her bare skin. The hem hung well below her waist.

Feeling her pulse in her throat, she pushed her leggings down and stepped out of them, then padded back out on bare feet, toes curling from the cold floor.

“You coming?”

Kara’s eyes went comically wide when she saw her, gaze instantly drawn to her pale legs.

“Yep.”

Lena retreated to the bedroom… then realized that Kara hadn’t changed. Lena was standing there awkwardly when Kara strolled around the partition and, in a slightly too hurried motion, pulled her own top off.

She was facing away, her back flexing magnificently as she stretched, now clad only in a soft black sports bra. Lena knew she was staring as Kara pushed her jeans down, revealing a pair of flannel boxer shorts beneath. She turned and looked at Lena.

Oh holy fuck, Lena thought.

“I usually just sleep like this,” Kara said, her voice quivering a little. “Is that okay?”

Lena nodded.

She climbed into the bed, sort of precariously parking on the edge. Kara lifted the covers and slid under, her weight on the mattress making it curve towards her, as though Lena were drawn, by gravity, to her embrace.

She let it take her. She ended up right next to Kara, and the lay turned on their sides towards each other.

Lena wanted to scream. This was a terrible idea.

“Hi,” Kara whispered.

“Hi, yourself,” said Lena.

God, she was right there, those muscles, the silky golden-tanned skin of her long legs (how did she have a tan in November?!), the supernaturally perfect blonde curls, and those big, pretty blue eyes just drinking her in.

Lena snuggled up under the blankets, shifting closer.

“So we’re sleeping in the same bed,” said Kara.

“Yes, I see we are. Though neither of us appears to be sleeping.”

“True,” said Kara, “though one might say that we’re about to sleep together.”

“One might,” Lena agreed.

“English is such a funny language. Someone might be confused if I went around saying I sleep with Lena Luthor.”

“Some might be jealous,” said Lena, arching a brow.

“Well of course. They don’t know what a little snuggle bunny you are.”

Lena grinned foolishly, trying to hide it behind the baggy sleeve of Kara’s sweatshirt.

“You’re wearing my clothes, too. Someone might say we’re going steady.”

“Aren’t we? Neither of us had been on a date with anyone in years.”

Lena wanted to feel bold, she really did, but she was so nervous she could barely breathe.

“Are you okay, baby?” Kara whispered. “Your heart is going really fast.”

Lena nodded. “I’m okay, just, um.”

She felt so silly. Here she was, bold, sassy, uber-confident battle bisexual Lena Luthor utterly tongue tied and helpless and in bed with her best friend.

Kara shifted closer, then closer still. Lena thought she might literally depart from her body when Kara’s legs tangled gently with hers. She stared in astonishment when Kara gently rolled her on her back… by climbing on top of her, slipping an arm around her back while the other hand brushed loose locks from her eyes and swept around to cradle the back of her head.

“Are we really doing this?” Lena choked out. “What are we doing?”

Kara’s face filled her vision, inches from kissing her. Hot breath ticked her lips.

“I think the real question is why did we wait so long?”

“If you don’t kiss me, I’m going to die.”

Kara did, dipping down slowly to brush her lips lightly over Lena’s in the most teasing, potent first kiss she’d ever had, a kiss to make her forget all her other firsts. Then Kara kissed her harder and Lena could feel the need in her, hunger and passion pent up for years.

She responded with her own, pressing her hips up to meet Kara.

“You took my favorite hoodie.”

“I did.”

“Be a good girl, and give it back.”

Lena, it turned out, was a very good girl.

When she woke up the next… noonish, she was still feeling the afterglow. Kara was passed out and snoring next to her, arm casually thrown over Lena’s belly. She slipped out from under it and stretched in the sunlight before pulling the hoodie back on. She’d have to find something more proper to wear, after a shower and some breakfast. She didn’t want to spoil her dinner, but she was hungry. Kara had been… exhausting, honestly.

She wanted to do a little dance, right until she walked out into the main area of the loft, bare-assed and hoodie-clad, and found herself face to face with Alex and Eliza Danvers.

“What are you doing here?” Lena and Alex both yelped at the same time.

Eliza was beet red, but said, “Ah, hello, Lena. You came early?”

(And often)

“I, um, that is, I, we…”

Eliza was bemused now, giving her a motherly smile.

“Why don’t you go change and wake Kara up?”

Alex continued to stare at Lena, the wheels almost audibly spinning in her head.

“Okaygoodidea,” Lena chirped out, awkwardly tugging her sole garment down as she darted back into the bedroom.

A few minutes later, Lena was in the shower while Kara very loudly explained the merits of texting first or just knocking on the door like a normal person, while Alex snapped back that it was technically still her apartment.

When she finally emerged in Kara’s flannel and Kara’s jeans, Alex and Kara were still bickering while Eliza was simply staring at the contents of the fridge. Lena walked over awkwardly (for multiple reasons) and rubbed at her arms.

“I helped Kara get all the other dishes ready. We only have to worry about the turkey.”

Eliza looked up and smirked at her.

“May I just say… it’s about time, sweetheart.”

[darby-rowe]

୨⎯ "inches of snow" ⎯୧

young!coriolanus snow ☓ fem!reader summary your boyfriend, coriolanus snow, joins you and your family for christmas dinner, but of course it's nothing short of an insufferable experience. but don't worry, because coryo is there to take care of you!

18+ | nsfw | mdni word count 2,298 cw modern au, coryo & reader are in grad school, it's christmas!!, mentions of food, implied body shaming by family, uh oh grandma and grandpa are being bigoted again, bathroom sex, mirror sex, anal, praise, degradation, sex on the bathroom sink, it's a very anal christmas, coryo has a big dick, ooc(?) coryo, y/n usage, petnames, unprotected sex, spit play, cum play, dirty talk notes i know the title is corny as fuck LMFAO but it made me giggle. also imagine reader in ellen griswold's outift from national lampoon's christmas vacation like the one w the blouse and the green skirt bc mmmmm that fit is FIRE. this fic was slightly based off of this post bc i thought it was just too hot to ignore. this is also NOT proofread so any mistakes you find in this fic... dont talk about it

Sitting down at the pleasantly decorated dining room table, your mother insisted on saying grace before you and the rest of your family could dig in on the splendid feast you and the rest of the women in your family worked so hard on. Your mouth watered at the thought of savoring the sweet potato casserole, the baked macaroni and cheese, the ham, everything at the table was extremely decadent. And it was all displayed out in front of you, and right under your nose.

You were a bit greedy, you had to admit, as your hands were the first to get a generous scoop of the fluffy mashed potatoes, earning a scoff from your ever-so lovely paternal grandmother. Say something, you old bat, you thought to yourself, but a pleasant hand came running to rescue you from your angry thoughts. A slight squeeze on your left thigh made you blush, and you turned your head to grin at your lovely boyfriend, Coriolanus Snow. He gave you a reassuring nod, and you went back to indulging in your Christmas feast.

“So, Y/N,” your grandmother piped up, pretentiously swishing her glass of wine. “Anything interesting as of late?”

You swallowed your forkful of mashed potatoes and peas. “My third year of med school is kicking my butt,” you said, trying to lighten the hostility between you and your grandmother. “I’m definitely finding myself to have less and less free time–”

“And how do you feel about that?” your grandmother interjected right in the middle of your response, causing your brows to furrow. Her attention was now fully on Coriolanus, which you turned your head to see what his response would be.

Coriolanus huffed amusingly. “I don’t necessarily have an opinion on it,” he said. “I am also quite busy with my master’s degree. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, or however that saying goes,”

“We’re just busy little bees,” you said in a light manner, albeit a bit awkwardly. “It’ll all be worth it in the end. All this hard work will pay off,”

Your grandfather motioned his glass towards Coriolanus. “Busy little bees, eh? Bet it’s harder on you than her,” This statement made you nearly choke on your champagne. The crudeness of that man! Oh, if you didn’t know any better, you would reach across the table and slap the wrinkles off that smug face–

“It’s actually not really that hard to endure,” Coriolanus spoke up. “We both know we’ll see each other again after our busy spells and that thought keeps us going,”

You smiled bitterly at your grandfather. “Exactly,”

The table got quiet after that, and you spent a good few minutes awkwardly sipping your champagne and eating your generous plate. You felt your appetite unfortunately begin to dissipate as the unpleasantness of the evening began sinking underneath your skin.

“You know, mother,” your father chimed in. “My wife and I both met during our residency, and you know firsthand exactly how busy I was during that time. The 100 hour work weeks, the skills labs, the exams, my boards. It was hard! But my beloved and I made it through, and I’m sure Y/N and Coryo will also make it,”

“I just don’t see the need in investing this much time in such a demanding career when your husband is already planning on pursuing a career that would help the both of you,” grandmother said to you, making your face contort into one of immense displeasure.

“Coryo is not my husband, first off,” you retorted. “At least not yet, but I’m also not going to be a stay-at-home mom who spends her days dealing with the dog, the baby, and the garden. I want a fulfilling career, too! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against stay-at-home mothers, but that life is not for me,”

“Why not?” grandmother knitted her eyebrows together. “Look at you, dear, with that revealing blouse and that pretty face, you don’t need to be pushing yourself like this,”

“Oh my god!” you cried, throwing your hands up. You finally decided you had enough, and with bitterness deep within your soul, you abruptly pushed your chair away from the table and stormed off.

“Watch your mouth, young lady!” your grandmother called out after you. “You weren’t excused!”

“I’m twenty-five years old, grandma, I can excuse myself,” you replied angrily as you traversed upstairs, your heels clicking on the hardwood material.

Slamming the door to the bathroom, you made your way to the bathtub where you sat down on the cold tiles with your knees folded up against your chest. You buried your face in your hands as you breathed in and out. In… and out…

God, you really hated your father’s parents. So judgy and crude, you were only left to wonder why they kept getting invited over to these dinners. Your parents knew how they chastised you, and even with their efforts to put a stop to their bigoted comments, they just kept going and going and going.

You were proud of yourself. You were proud of the life you were building for yourself. Sure, you still had eight years of school left, but at the end of the road you were going to be a kick-ass trauma surgeon. And Coryo was on the fast track to earning his master’s in political science. Soon, he would be running for congress, and the two of you would be unstoppable.

But here you were, practicing breathing exercises on the cold tiles of your parents’ bathroom. You needed to move out of there. Anywhere but there.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door and the sweet sound of a familiar voice on the other side. Coriolanus, looking as handsome as ever as he gently let himself into the bathroom, joining you on the floor.

“Hey, bunny,” he cooed, taking your hands in his. “Are you okay?”

You grinned dreamily. “Now that you’re here,” this remark elicited a chuckle from Coriolanus, which made you swoon. “Listen, I have to apologize for my family,”

Coriolanus shook his head. “There’s no need to apologize,” he reassured. “You do not have to say anything. You’re not responsible for their actions, not now, not anytime,” he took your hand and kissed the back of it. “Now, how may I make my sweet girl feel better?”

It didn’t take long before the two of you were on each other like two cannibals competing to see who ripped off the other’s flesh first. Your lips crashed and molded into each other as your warm, wet tongues shoved down each other’s throats in desperate attempts to taste the other’s mouths. Coriolanus tasted like the champagne you planned on indulging yourself with later that night, feeling your mind buzz on the remnants of the alcohol. It ignited your nerves on fire.

It took your breath away when Coriolanus spun you around and pressed you against the bathroom sink, forced to look at the reflection. “Look at you, baby,” he panted, his lips red and swollen from the intense kiss he shared with you just seconds ago. “So fuckin’ pretty and fuckable. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry,”

You looked at your reflection in the mirror, your eyes scanning the pathetic, needy look on your face. You gasped slightly as Coriolanus grabbed your jaw, preventing you from looking away. “I want you to look while I fuck you,” he said, pressing his hardened bulge into your backside which made your eyes slightly roll back into your head. “I know that pussy of yours is throbbing for me, hm? Is it, bunny?”

You opened your eyes and looked at the blush that was beginning to appear on your cheeks. “Mmm’yes,” you whined. “Want you so bad, please. But we have to be quiet. Can’t let my family hear us,”

Before you could say anything else, Coriolanus’s hand slapped onto your mouth making your gasps and breaths all muffled. “There’s a solution for you, my dove,” he murmured into your ear. “Now, here’s what I’m going to do: I’m going to remove my hand and pull up that pretty little skirt of yours. Then, I’m going take off your panties, then fuck you in the ass. Am I clear?”

You and Coriolanus have indulged in anal before. It wasn’t a common occurrence, but it surely wasn’t unwelcome. Your pussy throbbed with anticipation at the thought of Coryo’s throbbing, hard cock in your tight asshole. You nodded, and he removed his hand from your mouth and cupped it in front of your lips. “Spit in my hand,” he ordered, and you drooled a generous amount of saliva into the palm of his hand.

You could hear his wet hand stroke himself in prep to enter you. With your skirt hiked up and your panties gone, you made sure to relax and breathe as you felt Coriolanus push the tip of his cock into your ass. Your efforts to stay quiet flew out the window as a primal, low groan escaped your throat as your ass became full of his dick.

“Fuuuck…” you groaned, hiking your leg up on the bathroom sink to allow Coriolanus to go deeper. God, it felt so fucking good having his dick deep in your ass. So dirty, and so fucking hot.

In a matter of moments, Coriolanus was thrusting his hips hard and deep inside you, making your mouth fall open in a silent cry of pleasure. You resorted to quiet curses and panting to help you express how good you were feeling in that moment. Goosebumps erupted on your skin. There was a slight sting to being penetrated in the ass, but it wasn’t painful to you. In fact, it only added to the overwhelming pleasure building in your nether regions.

“Such a tight fuckin’ ass,” Coriolanus murmured, grabbing your jaw once again. “Look at you, bunny, so fuckin’ needy for this cock in your ass, yeah?”

You had to be quiet. You needed too. But by god, the sound of Coriolanus speaking pure filth in your ears was insatiable. “Yes,” you growled through gritted teeth, your eyes flicking between your face and Coriolanus’s. “Fuckin’ love your cock in my ass, fuck,”

“Such a naughty girl,” he teased, taking a look down to watch his dick pump in and out of your hole. The sound of your panting and groaning mixed with Coriolanus’s grunts, slightly echoing throughout the bathroom.

You whined as you felt him withdraw from your hole, only for him to spin you around once again and help you on top of the bathroom counter. You willingly spread your legs and watched as Coriolanus re-entered your ass before withdrawing completely once more, and then he repeated these actions again, and again, and again.

“Stop teasing,” you whined, reaching a hand down to play with your pussy only for Coriolanus to swat your hand away, much to your dismay.

Coriolanus pinned both of your hands behind your back. “No touching. You’re going to come from my cock in your ass or you won’t come at all,”

You nodded obediently, your body rocking back and forth in time with his thrusts. You could feel your pussy drooling its juices from how unbelievably aroused you were. It was almost uncomfortable how badly your clit ached to be touched, but you wanted to obey your boyfriend’s orders, so you held back.

“My naughty bunny,” Coriolanus moaned. “Your ass is so tight around my cock. Feels so good. You’re making me feel so – fuck – so fucking good,”

Your mouth fell open as your panting grew more frequent. “Yes, fuck my ass,” you whispered. “Make me come from my ass, baby, please,”

“Are you close, love?”

“Yes, yes – fuck,” you threw your head back as moans threatened to escape your throat, your pleasure only heightened as Coriolanus pressed open-mouthed kisses all along your neck. You were about to come undone from just having his cock in your ass, and it was going to feel so, so good.

“Coming,” you mewled, your legs beginning to shake and the familiar feeling of an itching pulsation deep within your pussy. “Oh god, I’m coming from my ass. Fuck… fuck…!”

In an explosion of pleasure that made you see stars, your orgasm hit you like a truck as your juices gushed out of your pussy. You squeezed your eyes shut and gritted your teeth as it took every fiber of your being to not scream out in pure ecstasy. You continued to squirt all over yourself and Coriolanus’s cock. There was no doubt in your mind that your skirt was ruined.

Coriolanus withdrew from your hole to pump on his own cock until thick, white ropes hit your hole. The sound of his moans and groans pleasantly filled your ears. Your legs were still shaking, and you felt your breath nearly get knocked out of your lungs as you felt his shaft re-enter your ass, fucking his cum into you.

It took a good five minutes before the haze of your orgasm left your brain and you were able to think clearly again. You still sat on the kitchen counter as Coriolanus softly kissed your lips, praising you and telling you how good of a job you did.

“I love you,” you mumbled against his lips, holding his face with your hands.

You felt Coriolanus’s lips tug into a smile. “I know you do, my dove,”

It impressed you how well you cleaned yourself up as you prepared to join your family once again, but as you opened the door of the bathroom, your blood ran cold as you found your older sister waiting outside with a disappointed look on her face.

“Really?” she asked. “During dinner?”

God damnit.

don't be shy, let's talk. ♡

[velarisnightsky444]

Accepting the Bond*

Azriel x Rhysand's Sister!OC

AN: This is a snippet from my Stargirl fanfiction. OC is Rhysand's sister, and she's accepting the mating bond with Azriel.

CW: Fingering, oral, intercourse, brief allusion to past SA(not super obvious if you haven't read the fic)

Word Count: 2.3k

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

    Rhys got everybody out of the house early the next day, and I got to work on dinner. Steak, mashed potatoes, asparagus, and roasted carrots, plus a nice dessert of chocolate torte. It was the first real meal he had ever had. The first meal my mother had made for him when he came to live with us.

     Through the years, he would ask for it on every birthday. My mother and I would make it together.

       When I had finished cooking and baking the dessert, I set it all out on the table. I lit a few candles, and put a vase of flowers in the center.

     I took a deep breath, studying my work, then sent the okay to my brother's mind. Nerves settled in my stomach.

     I was wearing a cobalt blue dress, one that sparkled in the light. The bodice was tight to my skin, and the sleeves were sheer and loose. The skirt was loose, but didn't poof out too far. There was a slit in the skirt up my thigh. Underneath, I was wearing a blue set of lingerie that Mor had gone shopping for with me.

     After a few moments, the door opened. He must have winnowed to get here so fast. I took a grounding breath, trying to calm my heart rate.

      When he entered the room, I could feel the string in my chest go taut. He looked more handsome than I'd ever seen him. His curls were tamed, but still perfect. And his eyes . . . I'd always loved those hazel eyes. He wore a lovely suit, which made me think Rhys had instructed him to dress nicely. That likely gave me away. His shadows clung to him, but a few swirled over to me. 

"Hi, Azzy," I greeted quietly, a soft smile on my face.

"You . . . you look . . . " he was at a loss of words as he took me in, his eyes looking me up and down, then studying my face. "Breathtaking." The word was barely a whisper. A blush tinted my cheeks.

"Thank you," I uttered. "You look quite handsome, yourself." He glanced down at the table, looking at the food.

"Does this mean--"

"I accept the bond," I cut him off. "Yes."

      An expression of disbelief twisted his features for only a second, before tears began welling in his hazel eyes.

      He rushed towards me, and I could only laugh as he scooped me up and spun me around. I clutched onto him, squeezing him tight. When he set me back on the ground, I planted a kiss on his lips. He held my face in his hands, kissing me back. 

     When he pulled away, he got to his knees in front of me, hands gripping the backs of my thighs. I reached out, running my hand through his curls, and wiping his tears with the other.

"Evie, I swear I will never lie to you again. And I will never, ever, keep anything from you," he promised me. "And I swear to protect and love you for the rest of our lives. I will never let anyone lay a violent hand on you ever again."

     The thought of being protected and loved by him, forever, made my heart leap in my chest. To be with someone that I trusted--that I loved. It seemed too good to be true.

      Tears began to sprout in my own eyes as I stared down at my beautiful mate. He got to his feet, and held me close, kissing the tears away from my eyes. His shadows twisted around me, doting on me in excitement.

"Shall we eat?" I asked him. He nodded, smiling as he sat down at the table.

      I took his plate and shoveled some food onto it, then filled a glass of wine for him. I set it in front of him and sat across from him, serving myself next.

      The two of us ate in a comfortable silence, one of his hands reaching across the table to rest on top of mine. We seemed to be eating fast so that we could get upstairs sooner than later.

      But we ate dessert, nonetheless. The chocolate torte I made was absolutely delicious, if I did say so myself. It reminded me of my mother's. Though, I had followed her recipe.

      When we were done, I got to my feet and sat myself onto his lap, kissing him again. His tongue slipped into my mouth, massaging my own. One of his hands traveled down to grope my breast, and I moaned into his mouth.

      I whined as he pulled away, brushing my hair out of my face. I had wanted him for a very long time, but right now, it felt as though I needed him. If I didn't have him right now, I would die.

"Let's go upstairs," he suggested.

     I nodded eagerly, squealing as he got to his feet with me still in his arms, carrying me bridal style. I wrapped my wings tight around myself as he carried me up the stairs.

      He dropped me onto his silk, deep blue sheets, and climbed on top of me, his lips finding my neck. I moaned, my hands intertwining with his curls as he sucked, bit, and kissed up the tender skin. His shadows settled around me, stroking different parts of my body.

"I love you so much," I whimpered as he absolutely ravaged me. He pulled back, hovering above me, his eyes meeting mine.

"I love you, too," he whispered. "My beautiful mate." His lips met mine again.

      I began clawing at his shirt, trying to undo the buttons around his wings, but struggling. Eventually, I huffed in frustration against his lips, and used my magic to make his shirt disappear. His hand began trailing up the inside of my thigh, and I gasped, my back arching.

       I sat up so he could unzip the back of my dress. I lifted my hips so that he could pull it off of me, leaving me in the lingerie set that I had bought. His pupils were blown from arousal as he took me in.

"You look so gorgeous in my color," he grunted, eyes trailing up and down my body.

"Is this your color?" I teased with a smirk. "I just bought it because I thought it was pretty."

     He snarled, clearly not in the mood for my taunts, and yanked the bra of the set off to reveal my breasts. His finger circled my nipple, making my back arch off of the bed as I whined.

"No whining," he reminded me. He'd always hated my whining, even when we were kids.

     He leaned down, his lips closing around the nipple. I gasped as he licked and sucked at it, his hand groping and kneading my other breast. A few shadows whirled around the delicate skin.

"Az," I sighed in pleasure, squeezing my eyes shut. He glanced up at me, a smirk on his lips. His hand trailed down my side, resting on my hip. I bucked my hips desperately, letting him know exactly where I wanted him.

"Use your words, my love," he instructed.

"Please touch me, Az," I begged, my words a hushed whisper.

"Good girl," he praised, the words sparking more arousal through me. He smirked as he sensed it. "You like being praised?" I nodded, whimpering as he began circling my nipple again. "I'll remember that."

      His scarred finger began trailing up and down my core, over the lingerie. I gasped, throwing my head back at the sensation. I couldn't remember the last time I had been touched like that--so delicately.

       He carefully pulled the lingerie down, lifting my hips to get it off of me. When I was left bare beneath him, he took a few seconds to take me in.

"So perfect," he uttered, causing a blush to stain my cheek.

       He swiped a finger over my clit, making an indelicate moan fall from my lips. I would've been embarrassed had he not been causing me so much pleasure. He pressed down with the perfect amount of pressure, circling it with his thumb.

"So good, Az," I mewled, bucking my hips. He held them down with his other hand. "Want them inside, please."

"Whatever you want, baby," he agreed.

     His fingers swirled around my entrance. He sunk two fingers inside me and I gasped, grinding my hips. They felt so different than any other fingers I'd had inside of me. The texture from his scars made the sensation so much more pleasurable.

"Gods, Az," I moaned, clutching onto him. "Your scars feel so fucking good."

      He blushed, and I almost felt shame for letting the words slip out, but a shy smile settled on his face.

      He leaned down, licking a stripe up my core as his fingers continued drilling into me. I cried out, my hands gripping his hair and pushing his face closer. His lips locked around my clit, sucking with the perfect amount of pressure.

"Oh, Az, keep doing that," I begged, grinding against his face and hands.

        I was getting close, and he could sense it. He began sucking just a bit harder, his fingers moving faster.

       I let out a cry as I got right to the edge, then fell over as his fingers angled themselves perfectly. My moans were loud, and undignified as I climaxed on his fingers and mouth.

      He kept sucking my clit and fucking me with his fingers until I was shuddering from overstimulation.

      Then, he pulled away and crawled up to kiss me again. I could taste my release on his lips and tongue. I began to grope the bulge in his pants, desperate for him to be inside of me. He started to unbuckle his belt, and when he was done, I had no patience left. It felt as though he was taking them off slowly on purpose.

     I waved a hand, and his pants were gone, just as I had done with his shirt. I nearly moaned at the sight in front of me. His body was beyond perfect. And his cock . . . I wasn't even sure if it would fit inside me.

"Az . . . " I said nervously.

"If it's too much, we'll take it slow," he promised me, stroking my cheek.

       I pursed my lips and flipped us over so that I was on top. It seemed as though he was about to protest, so I put a finger to his lips.

"Trust me," I begged him. He sighed, but nodded and laid back.

       I smiled and lowered my mouth to him. I wasn't sure I'd be able to stand having him in my mouth. Not after what had been done to me.

       Instead, I licked up the underside of his shaft, my tongue trailing over the veins. He moaned and bit his lip. I felt a wave of excitement at how sensitive he was. I swirled my tongue over his tip, smearing the precum that had began to collect on it.

       When I felt comfortable, I lifted my head and took a deep breath. I straddled his waist and carefully lowered myself onto his cock. I gasped, slowly filling myself more.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his hands resting lightly on my hips.

       I nodded, biting my lip. I let out a moan as I finally sat down completely. He let out a hard breath, squeezing his eyes shut. Having him in me hurt, but it was a pleasurable pain. One that I knew I would crave everyday for the rest of my life.

"I'm fine," I uttered as I began grinding on him.

       He groaned, his grip on my hips tightening. Elio had never let me on top--he'd always stated that the male should be in control. So I wasn't quite sure what I was doing.

       But Az's hands on my hips helped guide me, helped encourage me. I rested my hands on his chest, running them over his muscles.

       His shadows settled on my breasts, playing with my nipples as I sighed in pleasure. One began swirling around my neck, focusing just below my ear.

       I braced my hands on his chest as I began riding him harder, causing a sweet whimper to fall from his lips. I smirked down at him. 

       His eyes were locked on mine, his thumbs stroking my hips. I whimpered as I got close to the edge again, and he could sense it from the way I clenched around him.

"Do you want me to pull out?" he asked me.

"No, please don't," I begged, throwing my head back as I nearly came undone.

"We'll cum together," he decided. I nodded.

      One of his hands left my hips, and his finger began circling my clit again. That was the last thing I needed to fall over that edge, just as he spilled inside of me.

       Our moans filled the room as we both climaxed, his eyes shut tight, his brow furrowed. I grinded against him a few times to draw out our orgasms, until we had wrung all the pleasure from each other.

      I collapsed on top of him from utter exhaustion, and he wrapped his arms around me, under my wings, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"Do you want to bathe?" he asked.

"Too tired," I mumbled.

"Okay," he whispered, rolling me off of him.

       I protested as he got out of the bed and made his way to our bathroom. But he came back with a washcloth. He washed our combined releases from my thighs with the warm, wet towel.

       When he was done cleaning me up, he put the towel away and climbed back into bed with me.

"Are you okay?" he asked me. I nodded, humming contently. "Good." He pressed kisses to my face, then one to my lips.

       He pulled me into his warm arms, the two of us still naked. I decided this would be a lovely way to fall asleep, every night for the rest of my life.

͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Azriel Taglist: @serxndipity-ipity-blog @panther-girl-124 @tangled-sun @hawke1917

General Taglist: @lilah-asteria @andreperez11 @isnotwhatyourethinking

Comment to be added to the Azriel and General Taglists!

͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

[starchants]

HIGH SPEED AND FULL THROTTLE

poly!fast-team x female!reader ; the team comes home.

word count — 629.

themes + warnings ; nothing but adorable fluff <3

author’s note — i’ve always kinda wondered what it would be like in a poly relationship with everyone of the crew so here is a small lil drabble about it! now to specify since i know some may bring up dom and mia being siblings, yes they are siblings and NO they are not in a relationship they simply share the reader along with their friends and NO they aren’t ever near each other in intimate moments either, i know that isn’t discussed here but i wanted to clarify that as well AND i can do a whole list of headcanons if anyone is interested <3!

support mention ; if you feel like supporting, a nice ‘like’ will suffice on my blog, i know some writers love to ask nicely if you could reblog or comment etc. yet on my blog (no hate towards them as everyone likes appreciation in different ways), but if you’d like to reblog or comment feel free after all this is a safe space for any fan-individual to have fun :’)

masterlist

the growling rumble of numerous cars surrounded the block causing the woman to grin softly to herself as she continued humming along to the voice of reba mcentire that swept through the kitchen. the warming smell of lemon pepper seasoned chicken, homemade mashed potatoes, fresh corn on the cob, and the cinnamon from the apple pie that had been finishing up baking in the oven had flooded through the kitchen of the toretto home. the grin stayed upon the woman’s lips as she moved around the kitchen to grab down the plates for the dinner before she moved towards the silverware drawer and grabbed some prior to heading out the back door, setting up everyone’s spots at the outside table as she heard the shared laughter reaching towards the front door.

“babe?” both dominic and brian had called out in sync as they entered first and couldn’t find their beloved girlfriend who usually greeted them at the door. mia chuckled softly as she took a sniff of the air and knew the woman was probably setting up for dinner, leading to her and letty rushing towards the kitchen in order to beat the boys to the greeting kisses. tej and roman were quick to realize what the girls were doing and quickly rushed after them leaving dom, brian, and han shaking their head and laughing at the antics of those four.

the trio soon found themselves in the kitchen with the rest of the crew who were trying to help y/n plate the food onto safe to carry dishes and help her carry them outside to the backyard table. “there y’all are! y’all had me worried!” y/n exclaimed with a wide grin and made her way through the crowd of her lovers towards the trio who willingly awaited her arrival kisses and gentle fussing checkovers to ensure that they weren’t hurt. “we’re alright sweetheart, don’t worry your pretty little head over that.” han replied while placing a gentle kiss upon her forehead making the woman gleefully giggle at her man’s actions. the h/c woman was quick to grab at brian’s hand and hold it gently in hers as she quietly with a grin on her face dragged him out the back door of the house with her. dominic and han were quick to follow the pair outside and notice that the rest of the lovable idiots were passing around the drinks that were in the nearby cooler.

“alright which one of y’all wanna say grace?” the woman questioned as roman pulled out her chair as she went to move to do it herself while letting go of brian’s hand as he went to grab himself a drink. she sat down between roman and tej with mia and brian next to the pair of them and letty with dominic and han across from them. y/n found herself filled with so much love in this moment as she watched her lovers all glance at each other and childishly point fingers at each other trying to get the others to say grace.

she simply grasped her hands together and started grace for the lot of them over the dinner that she lovingly prepared for her hungry law-unbinding loves of her life. this time though they all had their heads bowed and only y/n had her eyes shut, all of them stared at her as they all silently wondered how she did it. how did she find the time, energy, and love in her heart to love and provide for them all the very best that she could without any hesistation whatsoever? their beloved girlfriend deserved to be pampered and spoiled after tonight’s dinner and they were going to do just that — just like they always do.

[diorgirl444]

to all the greasers i’ve loved before - chapter 1.

warnings: bad writing (my first time writing a multiple part fic ), don’t let the picture of dallas fool you he barely features in this chapter i’m afraid, fem! curtis reader though it is never specified whether the reader is a bio daughter or adopted and so can be read as either, doesn’t follow book canon, 1060 words <3

you had always loved love. your parents were more than happy to recount stories of how you would wander around the house dressed in your nightdress with the lace curtain over your hair clutching onto a small posy of daisies and dandelions. you had called it playing weddings and it was your all-time favourite game.

this obsession with love trickled into other things with most of the cookies you baked being heart-shaped or being the only person to still give everyone, even the weird kids handmade valentines after it was deemed uncool at about thirteen. yes, you loved love but there was an important differentiation, you loved the idea of it. so you supposed it was natural that you began to write love letters the way some people wrote diary entries.

you kept them in a teal silk hatbox of your mothers which had long since lacked the hat intended to be in it. there was one letter for every boy you had liked at one time - five in total. Bryon from volunteering at the hospital, Johnny from freshman homecoming, Dallas from two summers ago, Randy from Model Un and Keith since forever. you supposed your letters were less i love you love letters and more goodbye love letters. they were a way of accepting the crush whilst also allowing yourself to let go and move on. that you could sing to the Ronettes and not be singing about him, that you could buy milkshakes at the diner and not wonder which flavour he’d choose. the letters set you free - at least they were supposed to…

Keith Jacobs was a friend of your brothers but you’d always been a bit in love with him. his mother moved to Tulsa all alone with one son and a baby girl just across the street from you and so your parents, lovely people that they were invited the Jacobs round for a fried chicken dinner. you made a peach cobbler for dessert and when Keith asked for seconds - you glowed with pride. by the time he’d finished his third helping you’d already decided what shade of white your wedding dress would be and from that day he was practically always at your house. there was time when it was the four of you, Daryl, Soda, Pony and Keith but then your parents died and it all changed.

Daryl had to grow up and then the other three all started hanging out later and getting into fights which was fine because you had Angela and Sylvia. well, you had Sylvia till the summer before high school. then suddenly over that summer, she started smoking cheap cigarettes and wearing tight jeans where you were still happy to read a silly romance novel and bake cookies. angie was more like Sylvia really but she was like a street dog who you’d given a treat to - loyal to a fault and kept coming back.

which leads you to where you are now, the last day before junior year and the house is packed. you and Daryl were determined to keep up the tradition of home-cooked meals, mainly for Ponyboy but if you were honest with yourself sometimes as you mashed the potatoes with the radio turned up you would close your eyes and pretend your parents were slow dancing behind you. it turned out that most of your brother's friends didn’t normally eat well so they would often come round too. privately you wish they wouldn’t, they were too loud to you with no manners and they didn’t wash their hands before they ate. but for Ponyboy, the baby of the family you put up with it. You break out of these thoughts when Two-bit speaks, because as you hate to remember he’s Two-bit now not Keith anymore.

“guess who scored themselves a girlfriend”

You choke on your broccoli as all the boys cheer and clap him on the back. your ears ring and you feel like you’re gonna be sick. quietly you whisper to Daryl.

“I don’t feel very well. I think it’s my monthlies - I’m gonna go to bed”

he nods ruffling your hair affectionately as if you're still five and not almost seventeen. you don’t mind - that’s Darry’s way - playing dad to you and your brothers.

“g’night kid I’ll bring you some hot cocoa up and one of those hot water bottles wrapped in a towel.”

as you retreat to your bedroom with tears stinging you hear a chorus of “goodnights” and “feel better soon” from all apart from Dallas. despite your pain you still have the energy to roll your eyes, god forbid Winston cares about someone other than himself for once.

once you clasp your box and retreat under the floral quilts that your mom made you finally allow the tears to fall as you reread the letters. you decide tomorrow you’ll draft a new letter for two-bit, an official goodbye to the foolish hope you’ve clung to for so long. You hear the click of the look, and hastily you shove the letters back into the hatbox and wipe any resounding tears. Pony perches on the edge of your bed holding out the hot cocoa and water bottle that Darry had promised you.

“sissy, you okay?”

you bite back a laugh when he calls you that, a name that he called you as a baby that just stuck. then you watch his eyes catch the hatbox with curiosity.

“what’s that?”

clutching the box to your chest you speak.

“nothing just an old hatbox of mom’s that I keep recipes in. I’ve been working on a new strawberry shortcake one.”

you lie easily knowing that since that’s Pony’s favourite dessert it’ll distract him. he grins widely at you and you are reminded how young he is like a stab in the gut.

“promise?”

he says holding his pinky finger out.

“promise baby, I’ll see you in the morning okay?”

standing up you say to him as you press a kiss to his forehead and place the box away in the top shelve of your wardrobe. he’s still at an age where he pretends that stuff grosses him out so he scowls childishly as he leaves the room. you slip into your white cotton nightgown and finally let sleep overtake you. you’ll deal with it all in the morning and yet in that weird stage between sleeping and awake, you swear you hear the door open once more…

hope you like it! xoxo, flo <3

@socgf @heart-shqped-box @jujuheartz13 @r0seb100d @cranberrv @anifever @notagreasernotasoc @honeysmoonn for now i’m just tagging all the people who expressed an interest but if you don’t wanna be tagged or wanna be added let me know <3

[schlattslonghairytoes]

first day jitters 🧺🤍📆

personal assistant reader x boss schlatt

He hires you originally because he needed help with scheduling and couldn't do it for the life of him by himself

ted suggested he get someone to help him with all his shit cause it was becoming way to much for him

and of course schlatt wouldnt find someone himself, so ted gave him the mnumbver of a close frind he went to college with

the first day you meet at schlatts apartment, you arrive in a casual, yet neat outfit, with your hair slicked back and a coffee ted told you he would like

the moment he opens the door his heart rate speeds up

it was already very high

the first thing you do is send him off to go get some sort of relaxation treatment, cause even from a mile away you could tell this man is STRESSED

like you could see his tensed muscles through his hoodie

when he comes back to his house, it's significantly nicer than when he left, like insanely organized and clean, he also finds his favorite baked goods just sitting on the table?!?

like wtf

he finds you in his office with a standing white board that wasn't there before, listing everything he needs to get done, color coded, from most important and least important, and finally what he should do for himself rather than work

“What the hell is all this” he asks calmly but still confused

“well while you got your massage, i handled your calendar, cleaned your kitchen, living room and office, do not worry im not a creep, i didn't touch your room or bathroom. I also made you cinnamon buns cause teddymtold me you liked them!” you smile joyfully at him

after that, trust you are employed full time as schlatts assistant 

after you left on the first night schlatt stalked you online to see if there was anything wrong with you

he kinda wanted to find something bad because then that meant you weren't just a angel sent from heaven

but to his dismay there was nothing there

you were a bit famous on social media for just being cool and funny, but other then that he couldn't find anything

the next day you knocked at his door at 10am SHARP

he was very busy today and it was your duty to make sure everything got done

you led him through the whole day and when i say everything got done hours before they were even supposed to.

you guys planned video ideas, after he had a gamer supps meeting and by the time it was over you had gotten his car cleaned, restocked his fridge, aswell as ten other important tasks he has been trying to get done for months 

he is exhausted by the end of the day because we all know this man eats nothing of nutritional value, so while he records with ted and tucker you make him a nice steak dinner

filet, mashed potatoes, and asparagus, the works if you will

the moment big guy walks out of his office and smells the food, hes floating towards it like a cartoon character to pie on a windowsill 

as he begins to eat you swear you hear him moan, but you leave that one alone

he finishes eating and you begin to clean up but he stops you

“No, hey you've done way too much today, i can get the dishes” he pleads, which causes you to laugh.

“Jay, it's quite literally my job to do it, please don't worry, just do me a favor and make a list of what you want me to get done tomorrow?” you smile but this only makes him frown.

“Absolutely not, you are out of here today, and tomorrow the days about you, im taking you shopping in return for all this.” your smile falters

“are you kidding, dont do that im sure you have stuff you need to do tomorrow.” he quickly skims his phone and looks up at you

“toots, in one day alone you've cleared my calendar for the next month, tomorrow is about you.”

you begin to love your job after that

[sebstanaddict]

Sebastian Takes IKEA

Sebastian Stan x Reader (Unhinged One Shot)

Summary : What happens when Sebastian visits IKEA with reader? Get ready for some unhinged, chaotic adventure with Sebastian who is an adorkable, chaotic, mess of a boyfriend but who is still cute of course ;)

Warning : None, this is just a hilarious, unhinged story born out of my stressed out mind XD

Word count : 7.9k

Read more Sebastian Stan one shot here

Important: This story is not sponsored nor affiliated with IKEA at all. The IKEA brand belongs to IKEA. No copyright infringement intended.

---

It was supposed to be a simple Sunday outing—nothing too wild, just a quick trip to IKEA to grab a new bookshelf, maybe grab some plants Y/n would inevitably forget to water, and head home. But Y/n should have known better than to think anything with Sebastian Stan could ever be simple. The man had the energy of a Labrador retriever that had just discovered tennis balls, and IKEA, with its endless possibilities, was his new playground.

"Princess," he whispered dramatically, his eyes wide and sparkling like a kid on Christmas morning. "Do you smell that?"

Y/n, already regretting her life choices, sniffed half-heartedly. "Cheap particleboard and desperation?"

"No," he gasped, clutching his chest like she'd just insulted his family honor. "Swedish meatballs. We're going to the restaurant first."

"Seb, we're here for a bookshelf."

"We're here for an experience," he corrected, already dragging her toward the heavenly smell of gravy and carbs.

By the time they reached the cafeteria, Sebastian had gone full kid-in-a-candy-store mode. He grabbed a tray, then another tray, and slapped them both onto the rail with the precision of someone auditioning for The Great British Bake Off.

"What are you doing?" Y/n asked, watching in disbelief as he started piling food onto the trays like he was feeding a family of twelve.

"Fuel, Princess," he said gravely, his hands steady as he loaded not one, but two family-sized plates of meatballs onto the tray. "We have a long journey ahead."

"I can't eat that many!" Y/n protested.

"Don't worry," he said, throwing in a side of mashed potatoes and some suspicious-looking lingonberry jam. "I'll eat yours if you can't finish. It's called being a gentleman."

"That's not what being a gentleman means—"

"Do you want dessert?" He grabbed two slices of Daim cake without waiting for her answer.

"Sebastian—"

"And cinnamon rolls! Oh my God, they have cinnamon rolls." He nearly dove over the counter.

By the time they sat down, their table looked like a Scandinavian buffet gone rogue. Y/n stared at the food in horror. "There are people in line behind us, you know."

"Relax, I left them some," Sebastian said, cracking his knuckles. He picked up his fork like he was entering a championship. "Now, Princess, let's talk strategy."

"Strategy?"

"Meatball-eating contest. Loser buys the first thing we see in the maze. Ready? Go!"

Y/n barely had time to blink before Sebastian started shoveling meatballs into his mouth like his life depended on it. It was both horrifying and mesmerizing, like watching a nature documentary about a bear gorging on salmon.

"Oh my God, chew!" Y/n yelled, fork halfway to her mouth.

Sebastian, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel, held up one finger in defiance as he tried to speak. It sounded like, "Mmffh mmfhfh mmf," which Y/n assumed translated to, "I'm winning."

Then it happened.

The choke.

Sebastian froze mid-shovel, his eyes wide as he clutched his throat. For a horrifying second, Y/n thought he might actually be dying. She shot up, knocking her chair over.

"Seb, are you choking?!" she yelled, panic and exasperation flooding her voice in equal measure.

He waved her off dramatically, his face turning beet red. "I'm fine!" he wheezed, barely able to get the words out. "Just a—hiccup!"

"Hiccup?! You sound like a dying walrus!" She slapped his back hard enough to dislodge what she assumed was the offending meatball.

Sebastian erupted into a series of coughs so loud the entire restaurant turned to stare. An elderly woman at the next table gasped, clutching her pearls. A kid nearby whispered, "Is that Bucky Barnes?" to his dad, who shushed him while pulling out his phone to record.

"I'm—fine—cough—don't call 911!" Sebastian croaked between gasps, grinning like an idiot as he pounded his chest. "I just got overexcited."

"Overexcited?!" Y/n hissed, smacking him again for good measure. "You nearly died over a meatball."

"Not just any meatball," he corrected, his voice hoarse but triumphant. "A Swedish meatball."

"I'm leaving you here," she declared, grabbing her purse.

"You won't leave me," he said confidently, picking up his fork again as though nothing had happened. "You love me too much."

"Yeah, well, love has limits."

He grinned at her, his mouth full of meatball, and she groaned. "Princess," he said, still chewing, "if I go down, tell the world I died like a true Viking."

"You'll die a moron."

"And you'll miss me."

Y/n shoved one of her remaining meatballs into her mouth and rolled her eyes. "You're lucky you're cute."

"Does this mean I win?"

"You literally almost died. No, you don't win."

"Fine," he said dramatically, leaning back like he'd just fought in battle. "I'll let you have this one. But only because I'm feeling generous."

Y/n laughed despite herself. She knew this was just the warm-up. The real chaos was yet to come.

—

Once they survived the Great Meatball Incident of 2024, Y/n reluctantly allowed Sebastian to take the lead into IKEA's infamous maze. He strutted in like he was a Viking warrior entering Valhalla, with Y/n trailing behind, already bracing herself for whatever nonsense was about to unfold.

The maze stretched before them like an endless labyrinth of furniture possibilities. To Y/n, it was a practical place to pick up a bookshelf. To Sebastian, it was the ultimate playground.

"Princess," he whispered reverently, grabbing a store map like it was a treasure map. "This place... it's beautiful."

"It's just furniture, Seb."

He turned to her, scandalized. "Just furniture? This isn't just furniture, Y/n. It's a temple of design. A cathedral of self-assembly. A—oh my God, look at that couch!"

Before she could stop him, he sprinted toward a bright yellow sectional like a Labrador chasing a tennis ball.

"Sebastian, stop! You're going to get us kicked out!"

But it was too late. He flopped onto the couch dramatically, throwing his arms out wide. "It's perfect," he declared, tilting his head back like he was filming a commercial. "Imagine this in our living room. You, me, movie night. I'll make the popcorn."

Y/n crossed her arms, unimpressed. "It's five thousand dollars, and it's bright yellow. It looks like Big Bird got flattened."

Sebastian gasped like she'd insulted his ancestors. "How dare you. Big Bird wishes he could be this chic."

"Get up," she hissed, yanking him off the couch before an employee could notice.

But that was only the beginning.

—

An hour later, Y/n was sure they were lost. IKEA's maze was designed to confuse and trap, and Sebastian had taken every wrong turn possible while enthusiastically testing everything.

"Seb, I swear, if you sit in one more chair—"

"Princess, come here!" he shouted from across the showroom, cutting her off. He was perched on an egg-shaped hanging chair, swinging wildly. "This is it. This is the chair I want to die in."

"You're going to die in IKEA if you don't behave."

"Do you think they sell this in blue? It would match my eyes."

"Sebastian, it's eight hundred dollars, and we came here for a bookshelf!"

"Fine, fine." He sighed dramatically, hopping out of the chair. But not before it swung back and smacked into a display table, sending a stack of carefully placed catalogs crashing to the ground.

"SEBASTIAN!" Y/n whisper-yelled, frantically picking up the mess.

He grabbed a random catalog and held it up like evidence. "It's fine. I'll pay for it. It's not my fault they don't childproof their displays."

"You're the child!"

"I know." He grinned, unrepentant. "Let's find the bookshelf."

They eventually found their way to the storage section, where Y/n carefully measured and compared options. Meanwhile, Sebastian discovered the tiny model rooms and immediately began role-playing like a lunatic.

"Princess," he called from the corner, standing in a fake kitchen. He had a spatula in one hand and a fake orange in the other. "Welcome to Chef Sebastian's Bistro. Can I interest you in our specialty? Swedish meatballs."

Y/n didn't even look up. "You're not funny."

"Yes, I am." He grabbed a pretend pot and mimed stirring it. "I'll have dinner ready by eight. Don't forget to pick up our hypothetical kids from soccer practice."

"Seb, I'm serious, help me pick a bookshelf!"

"I AM helping," he said, plopping onto a nearby beanbag. "Emotional support is still support."

She shot him a glare so sharp it could have cut through plywood. Begrudgingly, he got up and began half-heartedly reading the product tags. "Ooh, this one's called Billy. Do we want a bookshelf with a name? Seems sketchy."

"I'm going to leave you here."

"You wouldn't dare."

She whipped around, pointing at him. "Try me."

Sebastian immediately straightened up and grabbed the first box he saw. "This one looks great! Let's get it."

"That's a TV stand."

"It holds things. Same difference."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes.

After a while Y/n found a sleek, modern shelf she liked. Sebastian, however, was drawn to a massive, overly ornate piece that looked like it belonged in a vampire castle.

"This one has character," he said, running his hand dramatically over the dark wood.

"This one has fifty shades of overkill," Y/n shot back.

"But imagine me standing in front of it, brooding like Dracula." He struck a ridiculous pose, complete with a mock cape flourish.

"Seb, we don't need Dracula energy in the apartment. We need something that won't fall apart when I stack three Harry Potters on it."

Reluctantly, he agreed to her choice, but not without pretending to sob dramatically into the yellow bag. Y/n ignored him and immediately made her way to the warehouse to pick up the flat-pack boxes with Sebastian following her reluctantly. But he soon forgot about the Dracula bookshelf as they entered the kids' section.

—-

The kids' section of IKEA was a chaotic symphony of bright colors, tiny furniture, and the occasional squeal of joy from little ones running wild. For most adults, it was a pit stop. For Sebastian Stan, it was the main event.

"Oh my God, Y/n, look at this!" Sebastian exclaimed, holding up a child-sized chair shaped like a ladybug. He plopped himself down on it, his long legs sticking out awkwardly as he wiggled back and forth. "It's so cozy! Imagine me working from home in this."

Y/n snorted, crossing her arms as she watched him. "Seb, that chair is for toddlers."

"Okay, but what if it's also for emotionally stunted adults?" he countered, giving her a cheeky grin.

"Then it's perfect for you," she quipped, walking over to a display of miniature wooden kitchens.

Sebastian was already on the move, spotting a stuffed shark that was practically as big as a small child. He grabbed it and held it up like a prized catch. "Princess, look! It's Bruce from "Finding Nemo"! We're adopting him."

"That's not Bruce," Y/n corrected with a laugh. "And we don't need another giant plushie. You already have a giant teddy bear back home."

"Bruce and Clark can bond," he said, referring to Clark, the giant teddy bear he got when they visited Harrods in London last year, clutching the shark protectively. "They'll be besties."

Y/n rolled her eyes but didn't argue. She'd learned long ago that Sebastian had a soft spot for anything ridiculous—and honestly, it was one of the things she loved about him.

"Y/n!" Sebastian exclaimed, pointing excitedly at a child-sized wooden train set on a low display table. "Look at this craftsmanship! This is... this is art!"

Before she could respond, he crouched down next to the table and grabbed the tiny train. With the fervor of a child on Christmas morning, he began pushing it around the track. "Choo-choo! Next stop: Tiny Town!"

Y/n stood over him with her arms crossed, already exhausted. "Seb, it's for kids."

"And I am thriving," he replied without missing a beat. He adjusted the tracks to send the train through a miniature tunnel. "This is an engineering marvel. Do you see this? I could do this all day."

"You can't do this all day," Y/n said, sighing. "We're supposed to be buying furniture."

"I'm multitasking!" He glanced up at her with a grin. "Look, this is a creative break. Helps the brain. You should try it."

Before she could retort, a little boy wandered over, clutching a stuffed giraffe under one arm. His eyes widened as he stared at Sebastian. "Can I play?" the boy asked softly.

Sebastian's face lit up like he'd been waiting for this exact moment. "Absolutely!" he said, handing the train over like he was bestowing an ancient treasure. "You're the new conductor. Take good care of Tiny Town."

The boy beamed, immediately engrossed in the tracks, while Sebastian crouched beside him, giving pointers. "Okay, careful on that turn—oh! Nice save. You've got skills, kid."

Y/n leaned against a nearby display, watching them. Her annoyance softened as she saw the boy giggle, his mom smiling warmly from a distance. Sebastian had this way of making everyone around him feel special, even total strangers.

When the boy's mom came to collect him, she gave Sebastian a grateful nod. "You're really good with kids."

Sebastian straightened up, puffing out his chest. "Thank you. I've been training my whole life for this."

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "Come on, Mr. Conductor. Let's—"

"WAIT," Sebastian shouted, already sprinting toward a pirate ship-themed bunk bed. "LOOK AT THIS."

Y/n groaned. "Oh no."

Before she could stop him, he grabbed a foam sword from the display and jumped onto the upper bunk. "Ahoy, mateys! Captain Sebastian of the IKEA Seas has arrived!" He waved the sword dramatically. "Who dares challenge me for my treasure?"

Two kids, no older than seven, squealed with glee and immediately ran to grab the other foam swords. Within seconds, Sebastian was locked in an epic sword fight, ducking under the bunk bed and shouting pirate jargon like, "Ye'll never take me gold!" and "To the plank with ye, scallywags!"

More kids joined in, grabbing toy swords and pretending to attack Captain Sebastian. He played along, expertly pretending to lose balance and stumble. "Oh no! You're too strong!" he shouted as a particularly determined five-year-old jabbed him in the leg.

The scene spiraled into chaos, with at least six kids laughing and chasing him around the bunk bed while their parents stood nearby, watching with amused smiles. Y/n tried to act annoyed, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from him. Sebastian was laughing, fully immersed, his hair sticking out in all directions from being ambushed. The kids adored him, clinging to his arms, giggling uncontrollably as he let them "capture" him.

Her heart softened, warmth blooming in her chest. Despite his ridiculousness—or maybe because of it—Sebastian had this infectious joy about him. Watching him like this, surrounded by laughter and little faces full of glee, she couldn't help but imagine him one day playing with their own kids. The thought made her chest tighten in a way that was both terrifying and beautiful.

Eventually, Sebastian surrendered, dropping to the floor dramatically as the kids cheered. "You win, pirates! The treasure is yours!" He shot Y/n a cheeky grin as he lay there, surrounded by tiny conquerors. "You see this? I just made their day."

She shook her head, laughing softly. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly fun," he corrected, standing up and brushing himself off. As the kids dispersed, he grabbed her hand, still grinning. "Alright, Princess, where to next?"

But Y/n didn't answer, her gaze fixed on a quiet corner of the section where a small crib was on display. It was simple, painted white, with soft blankets folded neatly inside. A tiny stuffed bear sat in one corner, its button eyes staring up at her.

Sebastian followed her gaze, his playful demeanor softening. "Hey," he said gently, stepping closer. "You okay?"

She turned to him, biting her lip. "Do you ever think about it? About... having kids someday?"

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but only for a moment. Then, a slow, warm smile spread across his face. "All the time," he admitted.

Her breath hitched. "You do?"

"Of course." He moved closer, resting a hand on her waist. "I mean, look at me. I've been practicing for years. Foam swords, train sets, pirate invasions—I'm ready."

She let out a soft laugh, her eyes dropping to the crib. "What if... What if it's not that simple? What if it's hard, or we're not good at it?"

"Then we figure it out," he said, his voice steady. He cupped her face, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. "Y/n, we'll be chaotic, and messy, and maybe a little clueless sometimes. But I know we'll be great. Because we'll do it together."

Her eyes watered, but she smiled. "You're really serious about this."

"About you? Always," he said. Then, with a playful smirk, he added, "Besides, I'd be an amazing dad. Imagine the bedtime stories I'd come up with. They'd be epic."

She laughed, leaning into him. "Okay, fine. You win. You'll be a great dad someday."

"And you'll be the best mom," he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in their little bubble, the world of IKEA fading away.

Then Sebastian broke the moment by whispering, "So... can we get the crib? You know, for 'future planning.'"

"Sebastian!"

"Okay, okay! No crib. But I'm keeping Bruce."

"Fine. Now let's go. We need to get to the warehouse." Y/n said, sighing as she dragged him with her but she couldn't help a smile from escaping her lips.

—

On their way to the warehouse they had to pass the marketplace section, and that was where Y/n's patience went to die. After surviving the maze of showrooms and kids' section, she'd naively thought the hardest part was over. She was wrong. Very wrong.

It started innocently enough. She was examining a set of glass jars when she turned around and froze.

"Sebastian, what the hell is that?"

Sebastian was standing proudly next to their cart, now loaded with an alarming array of items that had nothing to do with their original mission. Among the chaos was a giant fake plant, a rainbow-colored dish drying rack, a cheese grater shaped like a hedgehog, a set of tiny spoons and a plush banana that looked vaguely horrified.

"Princess, this is all essential," he said, as if that explained anything.

"A banana plushie is essential?"

"Yes." He held it up and shook it for emphasis. "He's my emotional support banana. Look at him. His name is Kevin."

Y/n pinched the bridge of her nose. "Seb, we don't need Kevin."

"I need Kevin," he argued, dropping the banana into the cart anyway. "Bruce and Clark also need another friend in case they get into a fight with each other. And the hedgehog grater? Genius. Two of my favorite things in one."

"You don't even grate cheese."

"Because I've never had a hedgehog-shaped grater before! Do you see how this could change my life?"

Y/n stared at him, trying to figure out how this man could be so simultaneously adorable and infuriating. "What about the plant? We don't need another plant."

Sebastian gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Princess, how dare you? Her name is Fernanda, and she brings joy. Also, she's fake, so you can't kill her like the others."

"I didn't kill them," Y/n protested, crossing her arms. "They died from natural causes."

"Uh-huh." He patted Fernanda protectively, like she might be listening.

"And the dish rack?" she asked, pointing at the rainbow monstrosity. "We already have one."

"But this one's colorful! It's like a pride flag for our dishes. Imagine how happy they'll be."

"Our dishes?"

"Yes," he said solemnly. "They've been through a lot."

Y/n sighed deeply. She was losing this battle fast. "Okay, what about the set of tiny spoons?"

Sebastian grinned and held up the box. "For tiny desserts. Duh."

"We don't even eat tiny desserts."

"Not yet. But we could." His eyes sparkled with unrestrained excitement. "Princess, picture it: late at night, me, you, Kevin the banana, sharing a tiny dessert with our tiny spoons. It's the dream."

"I think I'm getting a migraine."

Sebastian leaned in, planting a kiss on her forehead. "That's just love overwhelming you."

"No, that's you giving me an aneurysm."

"Same thing." He plucked a package of tealight candles off a nearby shelf and tossed them into the cart. "These are essential too."

Y/n pointed accusingly. "Don't you dare start with the candles."

"I'm not starting! I'm building ambiance." He added another package. "And now we have twice the ambiance."

Y/n groaned, grabbing the side of the cart as if grounding herself might prevent her from losing her mind. "Seb, our cart is full, and we still have to get the bookshelf. Please stop grabbing things."

"I promise I'm done," he said solemnly.

She narrowed her eyes. "Swear on Kevin."

Sebastian hesitated. "...I swear on half of Kevin."

"Sebastian!"

"I'm kidding! Swear on full Kevin," he said quickly, clutching the banana to his chest like a baby. "Let's get the bookshelf."

As they walked toward the next section, Sebastian paused, his eyes lighting up as he spotted a display of colorful mixing bowls. He reached for one.

"Seb, no."

"But—"

"No."

He sighed dramatically, giving her his best puppy-dog eyes. "Fine. But if I starve because I don't have a hedgehog grater and a mixing bowl, that's on you, Princess."

"You're not starving."

"I could be."

"Sebastian, we came for a bookshelf, and now our cart looks like a unicorn threw up in it."

"Yeah," he said proudly. "Isn't it beautiful?"

She stared at him, trying to stay mad, but his goofy grin and unrelenting enthusiasm made it impossible. "You're impossible."

"And yet," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek, "you love me."

Y/n sighed, laughing despite herself. "Unfortunately for me, I do."

Sebastian grinned, holding Kevin the banana up between them. "See, Kevin knew we'd all come around eventually."

Y/n shook her head, wondering how she'd ended up here. But as frustrating as Sebastian was, she couldn't imagine IKEA—or life—without him. Even if it did mean sharing her apartment with a plush banana, a plush shark and a fake plant named Fernanda.

—

After managing to get to the end of the marketplace section without Sebastian grabbing anything else, they finally arrived at the warehouse section. The warehouse section of IKEA was supposed to be straightforward. You find the aisle, grab your flat-pack box, and move on with your life. But Y/n should've known better. With Sebastian, nothing was ever straightforward.

They arrived at Aisle 32, Bay 4, where the shelf Y/n picked—a plain white, functional bookshelf she'd selected after enduring his dramatic antics in the marketplace—was waiting.

Except it wasn't waiting at ground level.

"Oh, great," Y/n muttered, looking up at the towering rack. The box was perched on the topmost shelf, taunting her like a smug, flat-packed cloud. "Of course it's up there."

Sebastian tilted his head, studying the rack like it was Mount Everest. "That's not a problem. I've got this."

"No, Seb. No you don't."

"Princess, relax," he said, cracking his knuckles. "I've scaled rock walls. This is nothing."

"This isn't a rock wall! It's a storage rack full of furniture boxes! Just ask an employee for help."

Sebastian scoffed, looking personally offended. "Ask for help? Y/n, I am the help."

Before she could stop him, he grabbed the edge of the rack and started climbing.

"Sebastian Stan, get down right now!" she hissed, her voice a mix of panic and exasperation.

"I'm fine!" he called, already halfway up. "I've done my own stunts! This is child's play."

"This is how you die in IKEA!"

Ignoring her protests, Sebastian continued his ascent, grabbing onto a lower rack, then hoisting himself up to the next. His face was set in determination, like he was reenacting a scene from an action movie. Unfortunately, the rack didn't share his enthusiasm and creaked ominously under his weight.

"Seb, I swear, if you break your neck—"

"Relax, Princess. It's stable!" he said confidently, just as the shelf he was holding onto wobbled slightly.

Y/n slapped a hand to her forehead. "This is going to be my 911 call. 'Yes, officer, my boyfriend climbed an IKEA shelf and is now trapped under three boxes of particleboard furniture.'"

"Stop worrying!" he said, reaching the top. "I see it! I've got it!"

He grabbed the flat-pack box, struggling to slide it off the shelf. The problem was, the box was heavier than he expected, and Sebastian, in his infinite wisdom, hadn't thought this through. As he yanked at the box, it tipped precariously, throwing him off balance.

"Uh, Princess?" he called, a distinct edge of panic in his voice. "It's fine, but, uh—can you spot me?"

"Spot you?! You're fifteen feet in the air!" Y/n yelled, her heart practically leaping out of her chest. "I told you to wait for help!"

Sebastian tried to maneuver the box, but his grip slipped, and the entire rack swayed.

"Sebastian!" Y/n screamed as he teetered dramatically, clinging to the shelf like a scared cat. "Hold on!"

"I'm fine! I'm—whoa!" He lost his footing, and for a moment, she thought he was going to fall. By some miracle, he managed to grab the edge of the rack with one hand, dangling like a very poorly coordinated action hero.

"Get down!" Y/n shouted, torn between fury and terror. "I swear to God, Sebastian, if you die before you assemble this stupid bookshelf—"

"Never fear!" he interrupted, trying to sound calm despite the fact that his legs were flailing wildly. "I've got this under control."

"You are literally dangling, Seb!"

With one final burst of effort, he swung himself back onto the rack, grabbing the flat-pack box and awkwardly lowering it to a slightly safer position. Then, slowly and ungracefully, he climbed back down, landing on the floor with an exaggerated flourish.

He grinned, holding up the box triumphantly. "Ta-da!"

Y/n stared at him, her face a mixture of disbelief and rage. "You absolute idiot."

"But look, Princess!" He gestured at the box like it was a trophy. "Mission accomplished."

"Mission almost ended with me calling an ambulance!" She marched up to him, poking him hard in the chest. "Why couldn't you just ask for help? Why do you have to make everything a stunt?"

Sebastian pouted, clearly unrepentant. "I wanted to impress you."

"Impress me? Seb, I'm impressed when you remember to put the toilet seat down. You don't have to risk your life for a bookshelf!"

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, still grinning like he hadn't just given her a heart attack. "Admit it, though. You were impressed by my skills."

"I'm about to be impressed by how fast you can carry this box to the cart," she snapped, pointing to the flat-pack. "Go."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a mock salute, hoisting the box and striding toward the cart. He turned back, winking at her. "But admit it. You love me for my adventurous spirit."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help laughing. "I love you despite your adventurous spirit, you lunatic."

Sebastian grinned, blowing her a kiss. "Same thing, Princess."

As he loaded the box onto the cart, Y/n silently vowed to never, ever bring him to IKEA again. At least not without signing him up for a babysitter first.

—

The checkout line was supposed to be the final hurdle—the finish line where Y/n could finally regain control of their chaotic shopping spree. The cart was already overflowing with unnecessary treasures, and she'd made Sebastian swear, on Kevin the emotional support banana, not to grab anything else.

But this was Sebastian Stan, and promises were apparently more like suggestions.

"Princess, stay with the cart," he said suddenly, a suspicious glint in his eye.

Y/n narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"Uh... I just realized we don't have... batteries." He didn't even wait for her response before darting toward a nearby shelf stacked with random last-minute impulse buys.

"Sebastian, no! We don't need batteries!" she called after him, but he was already out of earshot, disappearing into the chaos of the IKEA checkout area like a rogue spy on a mission.

Y/n sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She could feel the cashier's pitying stare as she pushed the overstuffed cart forward. Fernanda the fake plant was half-falling out, Kevin's plush banana face looked permanently distressed as it faced Bruce the shark and the rainbow dish rack was perched precariously on top like a crown.

The cashier scanned the first item—a set of tealight candles. "Having a good day?"

Y/n forced a tight smile. "Define 'good.'"

Before the cashier could respond, Sebastian reappeared, and Y/n's stomach dropped. His arms were full—full—of completely random items. A three-pack of giant chocolate bars. A fuzzy gray throw pillow shaped like a cloud. A box of LED fairy lights. And, inexplicably, a pack of child-sized aprons.

"Sebastian, what are you doing?" Y/n hissed, mortified as he dumped the pile onto the conveyor belt.

"Saving our future!" he declared dramatically, gesturing to the items as if they were a presentation board. "Look, the chocolate is essential for emergencies—what if we get snowed in? The fairy lights will add mood lighting to Fernanda's corner. And the aprons? Cooking together is romantic, Princess. Tiny aprons are adorable."

"We don't have kids!" she whisper-yelled, shoving the aprons to the side.

"Not yet," he said with a wink. "But we might want aprons someday."

Y/n groaned, grabbing the throw pillow. "And this? What's this supposed to be for?"

Sebastian gasped, clutching his chest like she'd just insulted his entire family. "Princess, this is Cloudy. He's Kevin's best friend."

"I'm not adopting another object, Sebastian!"

"You can't separate them," he said gravely, his voice full of mock heartbreak. "Look at Kevin. He's begging you."

Y/n glanced at Kevin the banana, whose stitched-on face did indeed look distressed, and let out a deep, soul-cleansing sigh. "Fine. But nothing else, do you hear me?"

Sebastian nodded, holding up three fingers like a Boy Scout. "Scout's honor."

The cashier, trying and failing to suppress laughter, scanned the new additions. "You two are quite the team."

"Oh, we're a team, all right," Y/n muttered, watching as Sebastian's eyes drifted toward a nearby bin of assorted impulse buys.

"No," she said firmly, catching him before he could move.

"But—"

"No. Don't even think about it."

"I was just—"

"Sebastian, I will leave you here. Alone. With no Kevin."

That seemed to work. Sebastian stayed put, though he did pout dramatically as the cashier finished scanning the last item. When the total came up on the screen, Y/n felt her jaw drop.

"Seb, this is twice what we budgeted!" she hissed.

"Twice the budget, twice the fun," he replied, pulling out his wallet and handing over his card like a man who had absolutely no regrets.

As they loaded up the cart, Y/n leaned over, glaring at him. "When we get home, you are putting all this together. Every single piece."

Sebastian grinned, tossing Kevin into the cart like a basketball. "Oh, Princess. You know I thrive under pressure."

Y/n didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or strangle him, so she settled for grabbing the receipt and muttering under her breath, "This isn't over."

With the receipt finally in hand, Y/n thought the nightmare was over. The cart was loaded with a precarious mountain of flat-pack furniture, random unnecessary knick-knacks, and, of course, Kevin the emotional support banana and Bruce the shark perched like kings on top. The exit was just within reach.

That's when Sebastian stopped dead in his tracks.

"Princess," he whispered, his eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. He pointed dramatically to the ice cream cone machine by the snack counter. "Look. Soft serve. We need it."

Y/n sighed, already regretting the day she agreed to this IKEA trip. "Seb, we don't need soft serve. We need to get this stuff into the car and go home."

"But it's only a dollar!" he protested, clutching her arm as if she might physically drag him away. "One single, beautiful, glorious dollar for a cone of happiness."

"You just ate 37 meatballs," she reminded him flatly.

"Princess, those were in a different category. This is dessert. It's like the epilogue of the meal. You can't skip the epilogue!"

Before she could respond, he was already steering their cart toward the snack counter like a man on a mission. Y/n trailed behind, muttering under her breath about impulsive boyfriends and their never-ending appetite.

Sebastian reached the counter, all wide-eyed excitement. "One ice cream cone, please," he announced to the cashier, then turned to Y/n with a satisfied grin. "See? Simple. Just one."

She crossed her arms. "You say that now, but—"

"Wait," he interrupted, spotting the shelf next to the register. His eyes zeroed in on a display of cinnamon buns, chocolate bars, and IKEA-branded cookies. "Whoa. What's that?"

"Sebastian, don't."

"I mean, we just have to get these cinnamon buns to bring home," he said, grabbing a six-pack and plopping it on the counter. "For breakfast tomorrow. And these chocolate bars? These are emergency rations."

"Emergency rations for what?" Y/n asked, exasperated.

"You never know, Princess. What if the apocalypse happens tonight, and we're sitting on our new bookshelf, wishing we had chocolate?"

"Apocalypse or not, you're going to eat all of it in the car."

"That's slanderous," he said, feigning offense. Then he added two packs of cookies to the growing pile. "Also, these are for Kevin, Bruce and Clark."

"They are plushies! They don't eat!"

"Not with that attitude," he muttered, handing his credit card to the cashier before Y/n could argue further.

The cashier, barely holding back laughter, processed the order and handed him the coin for the ice cream machine. "Just insert this into the machine, and it'll dispense the ice cream."

Sebastian held the coin up like it was the One Ring. "Wait a second. I get to activate the ice cream machine?"

The cashier blinked, unsure if he was joking. "Uh... yes?"

Sebastian turned to Y/n, his eyes wide. "Do you understand the power I hold right now?"

"It's literally a coin for a soft-serve machine, Seb," Y/n deadpanned.

"Not just a coin, Princess. This is the key to happiness," he said dramatically. Then, clutching it like it was precious cargo, he marched toward the machine. "Step back, everyone! Ice cream is about to happen."

Y/n sighed. "Seb, please just get the ice cream before someone calls security."

"I shall not rush the ritual!" he declared, raising the coin like it was Simba being presented to the Pride Lands.

He strode to the machine with the swagger of a man on a mission, clearing his throat dramatically. "And now, ladies and gentlemen," he announced to no one in particular, "a masterpiece in dairy engineering shall come to life before your very eyes!"

"Sebastian..." Y/n warned, already cringing as a family with two toddlers gave him side-eye.

"Hush, Princess," he said, waving her off as if he were royalty. "I must focus."

He inserted the token with theatrical precision, pausing for effect before stepping back as the machine whirred to life. The sound was nothing special, but Sebastian's face lit up like he was hearing a choir of angels.

"It's happening!" he cried, grabbing the cone and carefully placing it under the nozzle. "The soft-serve gods have blessed me!"

The ice cream began to swirl, and Sebastian guided it with the concentration of a neurosurgeon. "Look at that texture. That symmetry. It's... it's beautiful."

The swirl grew taller, and he crouched slightly, angling his head for a better look. "Should I stop it here? No, no. Go big or go home."

By the time the cone was fully loaded—teetering dangerously under the weight of his ambition—he stepped back, holding it high. "Behold! The perfect cone! A triumph of man and machine!"

Y/n crossed her arms, staring at him. "It's just ice cream, Seb."

"It's not just ice cream," he said, taking a triumphant lick. "It's a symbol of achievement. It's art. It's—"

Before he could finish, the precarious swirl tilted forward, wobbling. His eyes widened in panic. "Oh no—structural failure!"

Y/n stifled a laugh as he scrambled to right the cone, awkwardly licking the sides to prevent catastrophe.

"Crisis averted!" he announced proudly, his face now smudged with vanilla. "I saved it. I am a hero."

"You're a mess," Y/n said, shaking her head, but she couldn't hide her smile as she handed him a napkin.

"And yet," he said, grinning as he took another massive lick, "I've never been happier."

"This was supposed to be a quick stop," she said as they finally walked toward the exit.

"Quick stops don't bring joy," he replied, licking his ice cream. "This? This is pure joy."

"It's pure chaos," she muttered, shoving the cart forward. "I don't know why I let you out in public."

"You love it," he said around a mouthful of ice cream. Then he held up the cinnamon buns. "And tomorrow, when you wake up to warm, gooey breakfast happiness, you'll thank me."

"Warm? You don't even know where the microwave is half the time."

"I'll figure it out," he said confidently, taking another lick of ice cream. "I'm a man of many talents."

Y/n shot him a look but couldn't help the tiny smile tugging at her lips. As much as he drove her crazy, she knew Sebastian's chaotic charm was part of the package.

"Fine," she said with a sigh. "But you are carrying all the snacks to the car."

Sebastian grinned. "Deal. Now, let's get home before the apocalypse starts. I have chocolate to protect."

—

By the time they got home, Y/n was already exhausted, and the real work hadn't even begun. She stood in their living room, glaring at the flat-pack box of the bookshelf she'd chosen—a plain, functional piece that had seemed like a good idea in the showroom. Now, it just felt like a cruel prank.

Sebastian, on the other hand, was full of energy, fueled by ice cream, the thrill of the snacks he'd stuffed into their kitchen, and the sheer confidence of a man who had no idea what he was doing.

"Okay, Princess," he said, clapping his hands together. "Let's build this baby."

"Seb, maybe we should just wait until tomorrow," Y/n said, eyeing the box warily. "We've been through enough today."

"What? No way!" he replied, already ripping into the cardboard like a bear raiding a picnic. "This is the grand finale! The cherry on top! The...uh..." He frowned, pulling out a piece of wood and squinting at it. "What part is this?"

"That's a shelf," Y/n said flatly.

"Right. Of course. I knew that."

Y/n sighed and grabbed the instruction manual. She flipped it open, only to find a series of cryptic diagrams that looked more like hieroglyphics than instructions. "Oh, great. No words, just pictures."

"Pictures are better!" Sebastian said, already digging through the screws and bolts. "I'm a visual learner."

"You're a chaos learner," Y/n muttered, sitting on the floor next to him. "Okay, step one: separate all the pieces and make sure we have everything."

Sebastian immediately ignored her and started stacking wooden panels into a precarious tower. "Check it out! It's like Jenga, but Swedish."

"Sebastian, stop—"

The tower toppled over with a loud crash, scattering panels everywhere.

"Oops," he said, giving her an innocent grin. "No biggie. Let's keep going!"

Y/n groaned and picked up the instruction manual again. "Fine. Step two: attach the side panels to the base."

"Got it!" Sebastian said enthusiastically, grabbing the nearest panel and slapping it onto the base. He fumbled with a handful of screws, then grabbed the Allen wrench. "This thing is so tiny. It's like IKEA doesn't trust us with real tools."

"They shouldn't," Y/n muttered, watching as he jammed the wrench into a screw and started turning it the wrong way. "Seb, you're stripping the screw."

"No, I'm not! It's just...stubborn."

"Give me that," she said, taking the wrench from him. "You're going to ruin it before we even get started."

"Fine," he said, crossing his arms like a pouting child. "You do the boring stuff, and I'll do the creative parts."

"There are no creative parts! It's a bookshelf, not a craft project."

Sebastian ignored her and picked up two random wooden dowels. "Look! Drumsticks!" He started drumming on the panels, humming the intro to We Will Rock You.

"Sebastian!" Y/n snapped, snatching the dowels out of his hands. "Focus!"

"Okay, okay," he said, grabbing the manual. He studied it for a moment, then frowned. "Wait. Where's this little blob guy? He's pointing at something."

"That's not a blob guy; that's a hand," Y/n said, exasperated. "And it's showing you where to put the screw."

"Right. Got it. Blob-hand wants a screw here," he said, completely misinterpreting the diagram and attaching a panel backward.

"Sebastian!" Y/n shouted, waving her arms. "That's upside down!"

"No, it's modern. Like an abstract art bookshelf."

"It's wrong!"

"Or maybe it's right in a way no one else has ever thought of," he countered, winking at her.

Y/n grabbed the panel and yanked it off. "I swear, if you don't start taking this seriously—"

"Relax, Princess. This is fun!" he said, picking up a small bag of screws. He paused, looking concerned. "Wait...what are these tiny ones for? Did we get extra screws? Are these bonus screws? Is IKEA giving us a scavenger hunt?"

"They're not bonus screws!" Y/n shouted. "They're essential. And stop opening random bags!"

But it was too late. Sebastian had already torn into another bag, spilling washers and dowels across the floor. One dowel rolled under the couch, and Sebastian dropped to his stomach, crawling after it.

"Got it!" he announced triumphantly, holding up the dowel like a trophy.

"You're impossible," Y/n muttered, shaking her head.

"Impossible, or unstoppable?" he asked, grinning as he plopped back down beside her.

"Both."

After what felt like hours, the bookshelf finally started to resemble something functional. Y/n was sweaty, frustrated, and convinced she'd aged five years. Sebastian, on the other hand, looked as proud as if he'd built the Eiffel Tower from scratch.

"Ta-da!" he said, stepping back and admiring their work. "Look at that. We crushed it."

Y/n squinted at the bookshelf. It was leaning slightly to the left, and one shelf was installed upside down, but she was too tired to care. "It's...fine."

"Fine?" Sebastian gasped, offended. "It's a masterpiece."

"It's crooked."

"It has character."

Y/n gave him a tired smile, too exhausted to argue. "Okay, fine. It has character."

Sebastian grinned and wrapped an arm around her. "See? Teamwork makes the dream work."

"Teamwork nearly made me murder you."

"Tomato, tomahto," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Admit it, Princess. You couldn't do this without me."

Y/n looked at the leaning bookshelf, the mess of screws on the floor, Kevin the banana and Bruce the shark perched on a random shelf. She sighed. "You're right. No one else could've made this much of a disaster."

Sebastian laughed, pulling her closer. "And that's why you love me."

She rolled her eyes but leaned into him anyway. "Unfortunately for me, yeah. I do."

As they stood in the middle of the chaotic mess—Y/n rubbed her temples and sighed deeply. The leaning bookshelf stared back at her like it was mocking her existence.

Sebastian watched her, his grin fading into something softer. He knew he'd been a tornado of chaos today, and she'd been the one who kept them grounded, even if she had threatened to murder him a few times. She deserved something better than this disaster of a day.

"Alright, Princess," he said suddenly. "You've officially done your time in IKEA hell. Sit down."

"What? Seb, there's still a mess—"

"Sit down." His tone was uncharacteristically firm, though his eyes twinkled with something mischievous. He gently guided her to the couch and plopped her down. "Now, stay."

She raised an eyebrow at him but was too tired to argue. "What are you up to?"

"You'll see." He winked and bounded into the kitchen, rummaging around loudly.

Y/n leaned back, watching him from the couch. A small part of her was bracing for another ridiculous stunt, but then she smelled something warm and sweet. Her stomach rumbled as Sebastian emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray. On it were two plates of slightly warmed IKEA cinnamon buns, a bar of IKEA milk chocolate broken into chunks, and two IKEA-branded sparkling waters.

He set the tray down on the coffee table like he was presenting a feast fit for royalty. "Your Highness," he said dramatically, bowing low. "Dinner is served."

She blinked, staring at the tray, then back at him. "This...is dinner?"

"Only the finest," he said, sitting beside her and grabbing a cinnamon bun. "After all, we're sophisticated people who dine exclusively on imported Swedish delicacies."

She couldn't help it—a laugh bubbled up, light and unexpected. She tried to suppress it, but then he gave her that goofy grin, and the absurdity of the entire day hit her all at once. Before she knew it, she was laughing so hard she had to wipe tears from her eyes.

"Sebastian!" she gasped between giggles. "This is not how normal people recover from a stressful day."

"Normal is boring," he said, smiling softly at her. "And I kind of love that I made you laugh after everything I put you through. You deserve it."

Her laughter softened into a warm smile. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Ridiculous but charming," he said, nudging her shoulder. "And you love me for it."

"I do," she admitted, picking up a cinnamon bun. "Even though you nearly killed yourself twice, choking on meatballs and climbing an IKEA shelf as well as turned our living room into a disaster zone."

"That's just me keeping things interesting, Princess," he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. "But I promise I'll clean up the mess tomorrow. Tonight is about you."

Y/n looked at him, her heart softening. He might've been an absolute whirlwind, but he always had a way of making her feel like the center of his universe, even in their most chaotic moments.

"Okay," she said, taking a bite of the cinnamon bun. "I'll accept this dinner of 'imported delicacies.' But only if you promise to never climb anything in IKEA again."

He raised his hand solemnly. "Scout's honor."

They sat there, munching on cinnamon buns and chocolate, laughing about the events of the day. The leaning bookshelf stood in the corner, still a testament to their mismatched teamwork, but Y/n didn't care anymore.

It wasn't perfect, but neither were they—and that was okay. Because at the end of the day, Sebastian always found a way to make her laugh. And that was enough.

[immeasurablesaladagere]

can i just get a mini fic ab viktor regressing infront of all his siblings for the first time. (classification au) and just being really anxious and insecure? Tysm salad!! :))

Order up! Season 1 but he was Viktor the whole time. I bend canon to fulfill my fanfic needs :)

-----

Word Count: 603

Summery: Viktor regresses after Luther's family dinner idea goes south.

-----

Family dinner was a bad idea.

Diego slammed his fist down on the table, “Oh yeah, we can all just be a big happy family now that Dad’s gone! Pull your head outta your ass, Luther!” 

“I’m just trying to have a nice family dinner, like the old days! Why can’t you just accept that not everyone is as determined to hold onto this grudge as you!?” Luther shot back, looking around the table expectantly at them for some kind of support.

No one said anything. Viktor kept his gaze glued firmly down at his plate and pushed around the baked bean sprouts. They were still icky, just like they had been when they were kids, but Mama still kept making them. The only good thing about the arguing was that is was keeping his family distracted from his current problem; that he was little. His siblings all knew his classification by now, they’d read his book, but he’d never, ever been small with them before. He didn’t know exactly how they would react if they found out he was small, but he knew they wouldn’t be nice, so he was determined to keep it a secret. Just a few more hours, and he could ride the bus home. Hopefully he’d be big by then, the bus was scary.

Allison had joined into the shouting match now. They were getting really loud now, and it made the shaky feeling in his stomach grow. He wanted to cover his ears but that would give him away, so he just tightened his grip on his fork and bit his lip. He wished he was with Five. He got to skip family dinner.

There was a warping sound, and the table went silent. Five teleported into the room and without a word, grabbed the plate from his empty seat and began filling it with food. Or maybe he didn't?

“Can you all shut up? It’s hard to do world-saving calculations with you all screaming like idiots.” He snapped. He briefly glanced at Viktor as he was taking a scoop of mashed potatoes, then stopped and squinted more closely. Viktor shrunk back in his chair. Please don’t say anything.

“How long were you morons going to argue in front of a regressed little?”

Allison raised an eyebrow. “What? What are you—?” Her eyes landed on Viktor, and suddenly, all of the eyes at the table were on him. “Oh, honey…”

Viktor pushed away his plate, dropped his head to the table, and whined. They were gonna be upset now. He wasn’t supposed to be little here and he was hiding it so well!

“How did you..?” Luther trailed off.

Five snorted. “It’s obvious. He’s pushing around his bean sprouts, which he hated when we were kids, and he was looking at you all like a scared animal. Have any of you guys even been around a little since you were classified?” 

A hand landed on Viktor’s shoulder and he jumped. He nervously looked up at Five, but he didn’t look upset with him. 

“Come on, why don’t you come upstairs with me and I’ll tell you about my experiments.”

Viktor looked around the dinner table. Everyone was staring at him, and he shrunk away from their eyes. “Mhm.” 

He got up quickly and followed Five out of the dining room, fiddling with his shirt. “‘Thought I was doing a good job…” He mumbled.

Five gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Eh, you were. But it takes one to know one, kid.”

Viktor’s eyes widened. “You’re—?”

“Less talkie, more walkie. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

[dudeshusband]

Title: A Very Mikedude Thanksgiving

Words: 1.1k

Description: Mike and Dude host Thanksgiving.

Warnings: Mentions of religion (really they just say grace but cya and all that), the briefest mention of 1880s politics, period typical shenanigans

Dude took off his hat and ruffled his hair before walking up to the steps of his and Mike’s little house. The stairs hadn't quite become familiar to him yet. He still wasn’t used to having a house, or a ranch of his own. He twisted the doorknob and breathed in the smell of fresh baked pumpkin pie. Chance nodded at him from the dining table. Stumpy grinned at him. Feathers smiled politely. Was he late to his own Thanksgiving party? He hung his hat on a rack by the door and took off his ascot.

Mike was in the kitchen, checking on the turkey. Dude stepped in as soon as they closed the oven door and rose up to their full height.

“Hi, honey. Smells good,” he whispered close to their neck. He pressed a kiss behind their ear. Mike turned around and pulled him into a passionate kiss. Dude flushed bright red. “We have guests! I just gave you a quick peck. We’re not puttin’ on a show here.”

Mike rolled their eyes and shook their head fondly. “We’re married, silly.”

“We wouldn’t want to get in the way of your husbandly duties,” Colorado called teasingly as he walked through the door. “Sorry I’m late.”

Mike waved their hand. “You aren’t late. Thanks for coming.”

“I’m gonna kill that kid,” Dude joked.

“Kid? He’s only a few years younger than me. You remember that.”

“Hey, I ain’t no cradle robber.”

“I didn’t say that,” Mike retorted. “Anyway, move so I can finish these mashed potatoes.”

“Can’t even get a ‘please’ anymore.”

Mike grinned. “Okay, please move your ass so I don’t burn Thanksgiving dinner.”

Dude lifted his hands. “Alright, I’m going.”

He took a seat at the table and waited for Mike to bring everything out. He wished they would’ve let him help in there. It was a big ask for one person.

Mike brought out the vegetables first, and the dinner rolls. Next came wine (for everyone but Mike and Dude), and apple cider for Mike and Dude. The stuffing next, and the turkey last.

“Want me to carve it, honey?” Dude asked. He gave them his biggest pleading eyes. They had to let him do something.

Mike handed him the knife, and Dude divied up the turkey to everyone, except Mike.

“Does everyone want to say grace, or no?” Mike asked the table.

Everyone looked amongst each other. Mike was the only atheist at the table (don’t tell anyone). The rest were Southern Baptists, and the lone Catholic, Dude. He suddenly regretted not asking if Carlos and Consuelo would like to come here instead of hosting at the hotel.

“I’ll do it,” Dude offered. He bowed his head, and the others followed suit. “Here goes. Holy Father, thank you for this meal we’re about to have, and for bringing us all here together. Here’s to another good year. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

“Amen,” replied everyone else.

The group began to eat. Various conversations about how Mike and Dude’s horses and crops were holding up, town gossip, local events, and price changes ensued.

As far as politics:

“How do we feel ‘bout that man in office?” asked Colorado.

“Arthur?” asked Mike. “He isn’t too good for immigration.”

“What’s he got against Chinamen?” asked Chance.

That conversation quickly concluded.

“When are you gettin’ married, Chance?” asked Dude.

“When I find a woman I wanna get married to,” Chance almost grumbled.

“When he figures out how to be open with his feelings, he means,” Feathers interjected.

“Feelings? I’m a man of the law.”

“So’s Dude but he has feelings,” Mike pointed out.

“Don’t go gettin’ soft on me, Dude.”

“What? Need me or somethin’?” Dude teased. He waved his hand.“Ah, I’m only soft on Mike.”

Mike smiled, then kissed Dude’s hand.

“Chance’ll never change,” said Dude. “Some girl’s gotta get used to his hardass act.”

“I pity that girl!” chimed in Colorado.

“I sure couldn’t,” said Feathers.

“Don’t go bringing that up!” Chance complained.

“What about you, Colorado?” Dude asked to change the subject.

Colorado swallowed the half a roll in his mouth. “What about me?”

“Got a girl?”

He smirked. “A few.”

Mike rolled their eyes. Dude shook his head.

“Always the smartass,” said Chance.

“Hey, I mean I got a line of girls looking my way,” said Colorado defensively.

“Oh do you?” Mike teased.

Colorado counted on his fingers, “Molly, Suzie, Maryann, Ester-”

“Ester?!” Dude interjected. “What pretty girl is named Ester?”

“You’re married to a Mike.”

Everyone laughed.

“Hey, now, Mike’s a- well, it’s a- it’s a boy’s name. That don’t matter. I love Mike.”

Mike squeezed his hand.

“You walked right into that, Dude,” said Stumpy with a chuckle.

“Who’s ready for some pie?” Mike asked.

Everyone chimed in with a “yes, please” and the pumpkin pie was served.

“This is some good pie, Mike,” said Colorado.

Everyone muttered something in agreement.

Mike beamed. “Thank you, I’m glad.”

After the pie, Feathers glanced out the window.

“Well, I better be getting back on the stage.”

“Hey, stay in town awhile,” suggested Dude. “You can stay here or I’m sure Carlos has a room for you. You don't gotta fly like a bat outta hell.”

Feathers gave a skeptical glance at Chance. “I don't know, John T. here doesn't seem to like me as a reminder.”

Chance retorted, in his grumpy way, “Ah, if I gave a damn, I wouldn't be here.”

“Alright,” Feathers conceded. “I’ll go talk to Carlos and see about leaving at the end of the weekend instead.”

Feathers thanked Mike and Dude, then headed off to the hotel.

Colorado stood. “Guess that's my cue, too. I didn't know being deputy got you up with the roosters. Goodnight Mike, Dude.”

“That sure was a good meal,” announced Stumpy eventually. He stood up with a hand on his leg. “I gotta get myself back to the jail. That new feller ain’t no Joe Burdette but he don't wanna be in jail either!”

“Bye Stumpy!” Mike called to him as he limped out of the house.

The last to go was Chance. “I’ll take a turn around the town. You coming Dude?”

Dude leaned on Mike’s shoulder. “Nah, I wanna be with Mike.”

Chance shrugged. “Alright. See ya tomorrow.”

Once he left, Mike and Dude started packing up the food and clearing the table.

“Maybe we should have had everyone take some home,” Mike said as they looked at the state of their icebox.

“We could give some to the church tomorrow, you know, for the needy?”

Mike nodded. “We should. It’s liable to go bad sitting on table tops and what little can survive being in the ice.”

Dude pulled Mike to his side and kissed their neck. “Mmm but that can wait ‘til tomorrow. We should go to bed.”

“You're so full of turkey it’s a wonder you're standing on your own two legs.”

Dude laughed and kissed Mike affectionately. “C’mon, honey.”

Mike took Dude's hand and the pair fell into bed, only removing some of their clothes when they got under the blankets.

“Love you,” Dude mumbled sleepily.

Mike kissed his forehead. “Love you too.”

[noopienoopiernoopiest]

Leo Knut - #1 - A Terrible Idea

Day One: @noots-fic-fests - Fic-O-Ween. Thanks as always to @lumosinlove

Rated: G

CW: Food

Warning: Vaincre Spoilers

Leo liked to think that he was a good partner.

He was always there to lend a hand when Finn or Logan needed it. He was always available for kind word or a big hug. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for his two.

And this was simple.

Should have been simple.

Their families had decided on various different plans for American Thanksgiving, and the three of them had decided that more than anything they wanted to spend it together. The ink was barely dry on Logan’s contract with the Rangers, and they knew now that for the next four years, this was going to be one of the few times during the season that none of them would have a game and get to see one another. As luck would have it, Logan had played an early home game Wednesday against the Penguins and had driven down to Gryffindor early. By the time Finn and Leo were done with their game against Montreal, he was there.

Leo wanted everything to be perfect. And perfect for Thanksgiving meant a dinner. A good one. The best one.

He’d done Thanksgiving dinner more times than he could count, but he’d always had his mama and her sisters as back up. Wyatt had surprised Eloise with a trip to Bali, so she was half a world away and without a phone. This was the first time he was attempting it all on his own.

Still, it shouldn’t be too complicated. It was just a lot of simple dishes all together at once. How difficult could it really be?

“Are you sure you want to do all this, Soleil?” Logan had asked, taking in all of the various groceries and prep that had taken over their kitchen by the time he got there.

“I already tried to talk him out of it,” Finn said, putting his chin on top of Logan’s head. “He said—”

“It’s a tradition. Besides, I want to do it for you,” Leo said, ignoring Finn.

“Exactly.”

“Is there anything we can—” Logan started again.

“Our instructions are to go to the living room and stay out of his hair,” Finn replied dutifully, nodding.

Logan’s eyebrows pulled together. “But I want to see you, Leo.”

Leo smiled. “You’ll see me plenty afterward. I promise.”

“But it’s, like, ten in the morning. Are you really going to start cooking now?”

Finn snorted. “Lo, he started like three days ago.”

Leo came up to both of them, kissing Finn’s cheek and then Logan’s forehead. “Trust me, it’ll all be worth it.”

That had been six hours ago.

Now, it looked as if a battle had been waged in the kitchen. Leo was usually pretty militant about organization while he was cooking, but that had been before his gravy had broken for the third time and he’d managed to scorch the rice and beans and had to start them over.

He was frantically trying to keep the cheese sauce from splitting and trying to figure out exactly how he was going to fit in three pans of various vegetables into the oven in the last thirty minutes of the turkey cooking.

“Baby, do you need—”

“I’m fine, Fish.”

“…You don’t seem—”

“Fine, Finn.”

“Are you s—”

“Finnegan.”

And then a few minutes later. Leo had his back to the doorway, but he could feel someone lingering there. It had to be Logan. Finn would have already started talking.

“Tremz, not now. I’ll be done soon.”

He couldn’t understand why they didn’t understand he was doing this for them. It had been effort. Lots and lots of effort over days of work. Baking pies and preparing bread, stewing turkey giblets and necks for stock that underpinned the gravy and the stuffing. Planning the menu, the grocery lists, the shopping. Weaving all of that in between practice and games and travel and everything else. It was almost done if they could give him an hour it’d be finished and he could relax.

He didn’t even turn around. He heard a sigh and the shuffling of feet and that was it.

Leo tried to distract himself from the lead weight in his stomach with mashing potatoes and pulling the stuffing from the oven, but it was there anyway.

And then, finally, it was done. The table was set.

Finn and Logan were both silent when they sat down.

“Looks great,” Finn said quietly.

“Ouais, Soleil.”

They made their plates, and Leo was finally ready to sit back and enjoy the fruits of all that labor.

And then tragedy struck.

Well, tragedy had started three days earlier when he’d decided to salt brine the turkey. Salt and baking powder. Salt and single action baking powder.

Finn reached for his napkin, discreetly trying to make a gagging noise without being rude.

It wasn’t the kind of mistake he made. But he did. The turkey looked perfect.

Logan winced, but kept chewing, swallowing determinedly.

As soon as he put it in his mouth, he could tell it wasn’t perfect. It couldn’t have been farther from perfect.  

Single action baking powder. Not double. Double would make it…

Taste like metal. Like baking soda.

Suddenly, Leo was aware of the wreck in the kitchen behind him, the sweat and stains on his T-shirt, the reserved, cowed expressions on their faces.

If it hadn’t already tasted vile, it would have tasted like ash anyway.

He wasn’t aware of the tears before they started to fall.

“Excuse me,” Leo said before leaving the table.

He just made it to the bathroom before the crying really started. What was he doing? He’d spent all day on this, and for what? He turned on the sink and wetted his hands, pressing cool water to his cheeks. He studied his red eyes in the mirror. His hair was frizzy, and he looked tired.

There was a gentle knock at the door before it was pushed open and Logan was there, pulling him into his arms, and the tears started again.

“Shhh, Soleil. It’s okay. It’s okay,” he soothed. It didn’t matter that Leo was six inches taller than him, in an instant, Leo folded himself into his chest and let himself cry.

“I’m sorry. God. I’ve been the worst,” Leo snotted.

“Non. No. Leo, no. It’s alright. You were stressed. We know that. We know you wanted it to be good for us.”

“This was a terrible idea,” Leo said.

“It wasn’t. Shh. It wasn’t. You always try to make everything so good for us. Finn and I know that.”

“And you’re not here that long!? You’re leaving tomorrow and I spent all day snapping and distracted,” Leo continued to rant.

“Peanut, look at me,” Logan pulled back, using the sleeve of his too long sweatshirt to wipe at Leo’s face. Leo was sure he looked a mess.

Logan didn’t seem to care. He offered Leo a small smile.

“You’re okay. It’s okay. We love you, Leo. It’s so good that you want to do things for us, Peanut, but it’s all okay. I promise.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Logan said, nodding his head like that was all there was to it.

Maybe it was.

“Okay, folks. Good news. There’s Thanksgiving pizza arriving in t-minus seven minutes,” Finn said coming in the doorway. “Everything else is delicious and who even likes turkey anyway? Worst poultry in my opinion,” Finn sniffed. 

Leo couldn’t do anything but pull him into their hug.

---

Afterward, after Finn and Logan tackled the kitchen and Leo was showered and snuggled into Finn’s oldest Harvard crewneck, Leo thought that it had been perfect anyway. Perfect as they’d laughed watching Finn try to combine cheese pizza and cranberry sauce, perfect as Logan balled up pieces of rolls and put them in the hood of Finn’s sweatshirt for him to find later.

Now they were all crammed on the couch. It was big enough for all of them, but each of them preferred to gather at one end and invade one another’s space. Leo’s head on Finn’s shoulder, breathing in Logan’s cologne as they watched A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.

And Leo was so grateful for them.

“Thank you,” he said quietly into Logan’s hair.

Logan didn’t say anything, just reached up to kiss temple.

Leo figured it maybe wasn’t what he’d expected, but maybe that was exactly what made it better.

[sondheim-girly]

I know it's not american thanksgiving yet but it is this weekend where I am so what are your thoughts on Mathews family thanksgiving? (cause their mom absolutely tries to do smt for it even if it's not much)

sorry this took me so long, I got a little sidetracked... go see my headcanons on mama mathews for context cuz otherwise a lot of this wont make sense!

-the thanksgiving after two bit is born, mollys parents reach out to her and invite her to come back to their farm for the holiday

-Molly, with some convincing from Betsy, decides to accept

-it’s a little awkward at first, but her parents are masters at pretending everything is fine when it’s not

-keith turns on the charm and makes her whole family really like him, other than Betsy

-this starts a tradition for their family to have a big reunion every thanksgiving

-the thanksgiving after Beth was born and Keith left was awful

-her family kept on making snide comments about how “of course she couldn’t even keep a man” and how shameful it is to be a single mother

-she puts up with this for a few years, until one year when she finally gets sick of it, and there’s a huge screaming match between her and her brother and her parents

-during the argument someone makes a comment about how Beth never should have been born and it’s her fault that Keith is gone, and Molly just snaps

-cuz nooo one is going after her babies, she’d give up the world for them 100 times over

-she immediately gets up and leaves, and they never go back

-the next year they try and make a nice dinner but molly cant cook for shit so they end up just going to the curtis house

-that births the new tradition of the big Curtis gang thanksgiving!

-then one year post canon Betsy reaches out saying that her husband and kids are traveling to see some extended family for thanksgiving and she decided to stay back home

-she asks if she could come to Tulsa so they can do thanksgiving together!!

-Molly is like “of course!!!!” And is absolutely thrilled to get to spend some time with her sister

-this is after Marcia and two bit start dating, and when two bit finds out that this year Marcia’s parents are working through the holiday and she won’t be having a thanksgiving dinner he insists she comes

-Betsy is good at cooking, however Molly and Beth are both atrocious

-two bit, surprisingly, is actually fucking incredible

-no one knows why, but u put him in the kitchen and he can do magicccc

-he and Betsy are put in charge of the majority of the food

-Beth tries to make the mashed potatoes because how does someone fuck up mashed potatoes?

-however she finds a way, because of course she does

-Betsy doesn’t let Molly anywhere near the kitchen cuz she’s still traumatized from mollys cooking endeavors when they were kids

-the kitchen was nearly burned down on multiple occasions back then

-Marcia volunteers to make a pumpkin pie, because she’d baked a few times when Cherry was over at her house and they got bored

-two bit comes over to ‘help’ and like… I don’t even need to talk about it I think you know how unbearably cute they were (and there may have been a minor food fight- think of that scene between Quinn and puck from glee)

-they all sit down for dinner, and stuff themselves full and laugh and talk the whole time!

-Molly decided her contribution would be decorations, so the table is beautiful with all sorts of fall colors!

-afterwards they all agree it’s the best thanksgiving they ever had

Thanks so much for asking me about this! It feels wrong for me to be talking about thanksgiving this early, but I had so much fun making these that it’s ok :)

[lokifan2]

A Ticklishious Thanksgiving

Synopsis: Based on my post where Loki eats the Thanksgiving food you’ve been cooking before it’s time for dinner. You playfully reprimand him and as payback for laughing at him, he tickles you after you’ve finished cooking.

Language: None

Rating: PG (quick mention of arousal)

Pairing: Loki and female reader

Established romantic rlationship

Thanksgiving. The time of year that people came together and shared what they were thankful for. This year, you were spending it with your husband, Loki in your beautiful, quiet home. You had been married almost a year (in December) and this was Loki’s true first time of celebrating Thanksgiving with you only. This was also the first time you cooked a meal for the holiday. You were nervous, but you were sure he would still love whatever you made. He always loved your cooking and made sure you knew it. However, his stomach got in the way this time and he ended up nibbling on pretty much everything you made. You weren’t mad at him, but laughing at him caused Loki to be a little mischievous with you, which you didn’t mind.

It was a holiday that came and went every year, but this Thanksgiving you were going to make dinner for you both. You were excited but nervous as you wanted everything to be good enough for Loki to eat. His opinion meant everything to you. You had asked him last year if they had Thanksgiving on Asgard and he replied, “no”, so you wanted to make sure he participated in said holiday. You asked him if he wanted to do so as not to push him into it and he agreed happily.

You had bought food and ingredients for food such as turkey, stuffing, potatoes for mashed potatoes, milk, eggs, noodles, and biscuits. For dessert, you bought pumpkin and cherry filling to make pumpkin and cherry pie. As you started to bake, Loki popped his head in to see what you were doing. “May I assist?” he asked shyly. “Sure. If you’d like. Grab an apron and get over here.” You motioned to have him join you as he smiled and walked over to you. Hands behind his back comfortably. Loki was initially nervous about putting on an apron because, “what prince cooks?” he thought. But then he saw you there. Working hard to provide him with a good meal, so he decided it was the right and gentlemanly thing to do and put on a green apron. Yes, green. His favorite color of course. “What are you making?” he asked intently. Trying to start up a conversation so you had something other to do than just bake. “Apple and then, cherry pie. It’s a staple for many (American) Thanksgiving dinners, you know.” He made an “ah” face and rocked back on his heels trying not to look out of place. “Here. Have a taste,” you said as you dipped a spoon in the batter and lifted it to his lips. “Mmm….Very good,” he mumbled with a mouth full of food. “We don’t have sweets like this on Asgard, unfortunately. I may need you to introduce this delectable dessert to our kingdom.” You smiled as kissed Loki on the nose. “Sure. I think Thor would also like my cooking. Knowing his brother does,” you teased. He grabbed you around the waist and kissed your head. “I’m sure he would, darling.”

After completing dessert, you popped the turkey in the oven to cook. When you checked on it a little while later, Loki of course, snuck in a bite but tried to act like nothing happened when you caught him again. “Loki! Hahaha! You rascal! Stop nibbling on the food or we’ll have nothing left to eat!” “ Hmm?” he replied as he picked some turkey off the bone and popped it into his mouth. He swallowed the food and then grabbed you around the waist again and gently nibbled your neck and ear. “I’ll nibble on something else, then,” he replied as he continued tickling your neck and ear with sweet kisses and bites. This was fairly arousing as well, but you were able to “keep it in your pants” for the moment.

With his arms around you, Loki stated that laughing at the Asgardian prince was strictly forbidden and that he had to “punish” you for doing so. “What? I can’t laugh when you do something funny?” you asked with a silly face. “You can, but it is gravely frowned upon. And I know exactly how to ‘punish’ you.” You both cleaned up a little bit and went to sit on the couch in the living room. He smirked evilly. “See. I know you’ve been hiding something from me. A secret in fact.” “A secret? But, Loki. You know everything about me. Do you not?” You thought hard for a second….”Oh, no! He couldn’t. He couldn’t know about THAT. Could he?” Since you were a child, you were extremely….Ticklish. Yes. Loki had figured it out. That would be his punishment. “You looked into my mind and saw my childhood memories. Didn’t you?” He threw up his hands in surrender and admitted that he had searched your mind for anything that you may not have shared with him outright. Tickling was one of them. It’s not that you had any childhood trauma or anything, it’s just that things such as tickling embarrassed you. Even to talk about and admit you liked it was uncomfortable. You were an adult and tickling seemed so childish, but you loved it. Loved the feeling of being chased, the teasing and of course, the fingers tickling away at your most vulnerable spots when you got caught. It made you happy and you loved being playful. Especially with the god of Mischief himself. He teased you but never quite understood why you stopped at that. Now he did. Tickling wasn’t something that many adults did and so you felt off about it. About if he would find you weird or strange by liking something like that. But to your surprise, Loki just grinned that same evil grin and scooted closer to you. His arm lovingly hung from your neck.

“Darling,” he began. “I can see that you may know what I’m thinking and what is about to happen to you. Know this. I’m doing it because you love it and so you know your place when it comes to being with royalty.” He was teasing of course, and you knew it. He was playing with you like he always did. “Playing with his food before he ate it” was a metaphor you thought of for it. He leaned in to kiss your neck as his other hand moved down to your belly and tickled it. You giggled as you broke from his neck kisses and scolded him again. “What, darling? I know you love this little game. So I say, let’s play.” “Oh my gosh, Loki!” you exclaimed with a sheepish smile as you hid your face in your hands. “What?” he said taunting you with another cute smile. He knew what he was doing and it drove you crazy but in a good way. “Stahahappp! Hahaha!” He looked at you and pretended to be confused. “What? All I’m doing is giving you what you really want. You do want this, don’t you?” “Yehehesssss!” you replied in a long whine. He was getting to you and you didn’t want to tell him that you were loving it because you were afraid of what he thought. But you peeked out from behind your hands and saw him still smiling that same suspicious, fun-loving Loki smile. He enjoyed taking you apart with teases and tickles because he got to see your silly side and your beautiful smile. You’d shown him a tiny bit of your silly side before, but nothing like this. You now felt like you could completely be yourself when playing with Loki and you let him know it. Finally, you got up the nerve and sat straight up. “I am Loki of Asgard! And I am burdened with glorious purpose! Blah! Blah! Blah!” In an instant, he grabbed you and pulled you to his lap as you giggled. “Alright! You asked for it!”, he replied knowing that you were more comfortable now with your ticklishness finally being out in the open. “I’ll make you wish you’d never even hinted to me that you were ticklish, darling! I will make you laugh until you beg me to stop! Even then, I might continue my torment on your lovely body! We will just have to see!”

He turned you over so that you were underneath him as he straddled you. “Now you’re going to learn what I can REALLY do!” He held your wrists down with one hand and with the other, slowly traced along your arm to your underarm, where he paused. You looked at each other. That grin. That evil grin that stretched from ear to ear on Loki excited you more. Your heart began to race and your breathing became more laborious as he finally and ever so gently, ran his fingers over your underarm. You jumped and laughed a little harder this time. “Aww…Is someone a little ticklish?” he cutely cooed. You shook your head “yes” but couldn’t get the words out because of his tormenting.

He moved down to your belly and sides and began lightly scratching at your porcelain skin with his nails. Goosebumps left in their wake. These areas were your most sensitive so when he began to touch you lightly, you lost all sense of coherency and began laughing harder and harder. The sensation lit all of your nerves on fire and all you could do at this point was thrash around. Praying his grip would slip. He laughed more evilly with every touch of your skin and he enjoyed it thoroughly. You began to scream with laughter.

Loki knew then it was time to end his torment and give you a break. Tears of mirth streamed down your red face and you sucked in as much air as you could. “My sweet darling,” he then said softly as he caressed the top of your head. “You did wonderfully during my little session. I will let you recover and then we shall enjoy this lovely Thanksgiving dinner you have prepared.” With that, your heart rate finally came to a normal beat and you regained your strength. Once you were ready, the two of you sat down and enjoyed a lovely Thanksgiving feast together. Life was bliss.

[wewerebornsextuplets]

I dunno if someone asked this already but how did your sweetie lesbians meet and fall in love ? What kind of dates do they go on and what’s their relationship dynamic 🥹

i am OVER THE MOON that you asked!! i'll give a little abridged version of their history first [mostly because i wanna do a more in-depth post later.. id feel weird doing that on an ask OTL] and then get to the present-day fun stuff ^__^

the two of them met in college, when they were in their second year! keiko was friend's with kiru's roommate at the time, which is how they met. it took a few months for them to actually get to be Familiar with one another, mostly because they were in wildly different courses and had absolutely zero classes in common [keiko was studying for librarian certs and kiru was shooting to get into a more prestigious veterinary school once her bachelor's was done], but they were both pretty interested in each other since they always really enjoyed the few conversations they Would get to have. once classes + schedules changed and allotted for more free time, the two of them started hanging out more and more and became friends Very quickly.

their third year is when they started to Actually get close, though; even though their personal experiences were very different on paper, i think they both related in that they felt similar ways about themselves, especially in relation to other people. in particular i have a very specific comic idea in my head related to keiko learning makeup and other skills from kiru; since the latter had so many bad experiences with cosmetics and trying to appear "feminine" in the past, i think she was Very careful about making sure keiko knew that she didnt have to do anything she didn't want to, and that above all else it should be fun for her. this assurance helped keiko navigate her own personal tastes and preferences much more easily, and it brought the two of them much closer together. they decided to try out dating at the end of their third year in college and have been together ever since :,)

during the early stages of their relationship, i think kiru tried to take her on a lot more ""fancy""/nice dates since she felt like she had to impress her, but over time they both realized they kind of hated that LMFAO. they both tend to be pretty adventurous and would try Anything once, but i think they would like going on movie dates the most :-) in particular they both really enjoy watching movies that they KNOW are gonna be bad just so they can make fun of them later on. theyll stay in just to watch movies so bad they dont even MAKE it to the theaters sometimes!

as for their actual dynamic. i think keiko is probably still the more direct/"assertive" one? thats not to say kiru Isnt direct or assertive when she needs to be, but keiko has more of that confidence across the board. "somebody's gotta tell the waiter i ordered mashed potatoes and it aint gonna be be" or however that quote goes. shes still got a little of her upbringing baked into her behavior is all! they tend to be a pretty jokey couple as well; theyre always looking for silly ways to annoy one another or just to make each other laugh. i like to think of them as the kind of couple that seems like theyve been together for much longer than they really have... like the kind of people where youre genuinely shocked when you find out they Havent been married for 20 years even though you know that would be impossible

that said when it comes to like, domestic life, they split household chores and daily tasks pretty evenly [the main exception here is that keiko Cannot cook to save her life... that lady could burn cold cereal and its hardly an exaggeration]. both of them are very diligent, and are the kind of people who prefer to plan ahead/keep track of a schedule [a vet + a librarian is kind of a winning combination when it comes to keeping a schedule], so when it comes to vacations or the like theyre both very well-prepared! theyre the type of people have one of those gay little dry-erase wall calendars hanging somewhere.