#must have kitchen items for new home

[strang3lov3]

Cinnabon

Summary: (mall rats 7, final part!) Joel ruins a special moment, leading to another stupid argument, leading to him fucking the daylights out of you on his couch. Lovingly.

Tags: AU where yeast is not dead and we can all bake and be happy. Cordyceps is no longer in the flour/sugar either (work with me) Cinnabons, 69, dirty talk, unprotected Piv, creampie because it’s me, strang3lov3. soft dom joel because again, it’s me, strang3lov3. Strange highs and strange lows, that’s how my love goes. You get it.

A/N: As always, thank you @papipascalispunk for editing ❤️ you’ve helped me so much on this series and you have no clue how thankful I am for that. Definitely abusing your talents for the next shit I wanna write! And thank you to everyone who’s read and reblogged, commented, all of that good stuff. This was a blast to write!!!

This may not be the absolute end of these two, so you might get an update on them here and there, most likely in the form of yet another lovers quarrel. But I have so much stuff planned and I hope you continue to keep up with me ❤️ excited for the new year and to share what else i've been writing with all of you 🩷

It’s early in the morning in late December when you’re walking up to Joel’s porch, holding a basket full of ingredients and a dusty copy of Betty Crocker’s Cookbook. You knock on the door, no answer. With Joel’s poor hearing, sometimes it’s better to knock on his back door. He seems to hear it better, closer to his bedroom and all that. You make your way to his back door, where you find Ellie quietly opening the window next to the door, no doubt sneaking back from a friend’s house. You startle each other, “Ellie, hi,” you say. You wrinkle your nose, she smells like weed. You can’t help but smirk.

“Oh,” she says, “Hi. I’m not– I’m just–”

“I won’t tell Joel,” you smile. Ellie’s staring at your basket of goodies, where one of your lacy Victoria’s Secret thongs sits on top of a blue Cinnabon apron. “I’m just…baking. For Joel. Are you gonna be home today?”

It’s Ellie’s turn to smirk at you, as she opens the window the rest of the way and lifts herself inside the house. You hear her heavy footsteps before she unlocks and opens the door for you. “I can disappear,” she replies, “I require payment, though.” 

“I’ll leave you a plate outside your door.”

“Deal.” 

Ellie goes to her room probably to change clothes, and you go toward Joel’s kitchen. “I want two of whatever you’re making,” Ellie calls out before slamming the back door again, probably going back to her friend’s house. That girl certainly knows how to negotiate. You can’t help but love her for it.

Joel usually wakes up early, but he’s not on his recliner where you expect him to be. Must be in bed. You smile to yourself, picturing Joel coming downstairs in his pajamas, hair messy and sighing in pleasure at the sweet aroma of butter and cinnamon. 

You’re making Cinnabons this morning. Well, cinnamon rolls, as Betty Crocker puts it. When you and Joel were in the Barnes and Noble at the mall picking up books for Jackson’s library, you had stumbled across Betty Crocker’s Cookbook. Flipping through the pages, you found a recipe for cinnamon rolls and thought back to that first time in the mall with Joel, where he explained what a Cinnabon was, and then lied about his sweet tooth. 

There were loads of recipes, many interesting pictures too. You brought the book to Joel and pointed at a picture of some odd, translucent dome-shaped food item. He told you it was called Jell-O, and that no one misses it. You wanted to take the cookbook back with you, but there wasn’t room in the duffel bag. And you couldn’t bear to rip out a single page for one recipe. That would just be cruel.

At the end of the day, you went back to Tommy’s office with Joel. Joel usually walks you home, but he didn’t that day. Said he was running late for game night with Ellie, so he took off quickly. Tommy told you he’d walk you home, though.

As you and Tommy went through some of the books, he heard you sigh disappointedly, “What’s gotcha down, hon?”

“There was this book I wanted, but we didn’t have room.” 

“What book?”

“Cookbook,” you replied, “I wanted to make a recipe for Joel.” 

“Ah,” Tommy murmured, flipping through the pages of an old picture book, “Which recipe?”

“Cinnamon rolls.”

“Oh man,” Tommy groaned. He checked his watch, then looked at you with a light in his eyes. 

“I’ll take you back there right now to get that book.” 

“You’d do that?”, you asked.

“For you, of course. But I got my motives. Ya gotta hook me up with some of those rolls.”

There are few things that make you feel as loved and appreciated as when Tommy’s eating your food, showering you in the sweetest compliments and praises. No problem, you’d gladly share your baking with him. So Tommy took you back to the mall. You led him to the bookstore, picked up your book and went on your merry way. Tommy still hadn’t gotten to check the mall out for himself, though. So he wandered through the same areas you did, through the food court you and Joel picked through all that time ago. At the Cinnabon stand, he tossed you a blue apron with the word ‘Cinnabon’ embroidered at the chest. “Bet ya could make Joel turn bright red with this.”

You picked up what he was putting down immediately. And, thinking about it, you had a lacy thong that would match the apron perfectly. You remembered the blush on Joel’s cheeks as you tried on lingerie at Victoria’s Secret, how he mumbled something about lingerie being a waste of time before fucking you in the dressing room, still wearing your pretty pink chiffon babydoll. You wondered if faced with a big, gooey cinnamon roll sitting in front of him, and you in nothing but an apron and a thong, he’d still lie about that sweet tooth of his and his disdain for lingerie. Cause for an experiment. 

–

In Joel’s kitchen, you prepare the recipe. You prepped the dough last night, giving it plenty of time to rise. All you have to do this morning is prepare the cinnamon-sugar mixture and the icing. Oh, and put on that apron and thong. Not too hard. 

Once the rolls are assembled in the pan, you put them in Joel’s oven and change into your little outfit, feeling a little breeze on your bare ass. Good thing Ellie’s gone. As you’re waiting for the rolls to bake, you lean over Joel’s kitchen table and flip through the pages of your cookbook. The Jell-O still has you perplexed. 

Some time goes by. You’re reading about the Jell-O, how Betty Crocker said that it was great for parties and baby showers and other things like that. The slam of the glass door behind you startles you. You whip around, and there’s Joel with bright red cheeks, looking shocked and horrified. Through the glass door, you see Tommy in Joel’s yard. He waves at you, smiling. You wave back.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel grumbles, quickly pulling the blinds over the glass door to protect your modesty, “You gonna explain why you’re bare assed in my kitchen?”

“I thought you were sleeping,” you reply.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he grumbles, as the egg timer you set prior goes off with a ding. You open the oven and pull out the cinnamon rolls with a pair of potholders, giving Joel a perfect view of your entire ass. “Oh my god,” he groans. When you turn around, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, always so dramatic. You reach for the Pyrex measuring bowl full of icing you prepared and begin drizzling it over the warm cinnamon rolls. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy. You’re somethin’ else, you know that? I never know what–”, Joel stops speaking, and you look back at him once more. He’s intrigued, eyes wide. The pastry has pulled his attention away from your nearly-bare body. “Those uh– those cinnamon rolls?”

“Cinnabons,” you correct him, pointing to the embroidered logo on your chest, “But yeah– cinnamon rolls.”

“Right,” he murmurs, stepping closer to you. He reaches into one of his drawers for a fork and pushes you out of the way. 

“Joel,” you complain as he steals a bite of the cinnamon rolls, right out of the pan. He blows on it first, careful not to burn his tongue. When he tastes the pastry, his eyes flutter shut. He moans softly. “You said once that you missed Cinnabons,” you explain, speaking softly. Joel reaches for another bite, right out of the pan.

“Mhm,” he mumbles, mouth full of dessert.

“What’s the verdict?”

“Cinnabon’s better,” he answers plainly. 

Your face drops. “What?”

“Yeah this–”, he takes another bite, “S’no good at all.”

He’s fucking with you. Probably gonna say something dumb like how you should give him the pan, let him dispose of those no good cinnamon rolls for you. “Dick,” you punch his arm for scaring you like that. He doesn’t mind. 

“You made these for me?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly, “For you.”

“For me,” he repeats, a soft smile on his face. You’re kind of baffled at his mood change, but you know what they say about men and food; the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, all that stuff. He steps closer to you, backing you against the countertop and turning off his oven, still wearing that smile, like he knows something you don’t.

“But I owe Tommy and Ellie one, too,” you continue, voice a little shaky. You’re nervous, why is he making you nervous? Joel sets his fork down and stares at you, lovingly, tenderly. “I made two batches before this, fucked both of those up. And then I ran out of sugar, actually. Tommy had to steal me some more.”

“I love you.”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. He says it plainly, no frills. Just out with it. 

“You do?”

“Mhm,” he hums, “I do. Still would like an answer as to why you’re half-naked, though.”

Your face heats up. What were you saying? The cinnamon rolls, right. 

“I was– I don’t know. I had to knead the rolls by hand. The recipe said a stand mixer would be easier, but I didn’t…”, you trail off, feeling a little fuzzy, like you can’t think straight, your train of thought slipping away from you, “Didn’t have one. I love you too, actually.”

“I know,” he replies softly. He never doubted it for a second. Lord, he’s so handsome. His eyes sparkle more than usual, his fluffy curls untamed. The flannel he’s wearing suits him perfectly, and you can’t help but stare, stammering quietly. He reaches for your face with one hand, wrapping the other around your waist and pulling you close to his body, “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

Oh, fuck. You squirm out from his hold, away from the counter he held you against. Joel looks absolutely baffled as you smile sheepishly. “Can you grab me a plate for the Cinnabons?”, you ask, “I need to leave one by Ellie’s door.”

“I’d like to kiss you first, if you don’t mind,” he says, walking towards you. You keep walking backwards, around the kitchen table. Joel follows you as you look through his drawers for a spatula, opening and closing cabinets with shaky hands as you try to find a plate. Where are his fucking plates? Joel reaches for your hand to stop you. “Will you let me kiss you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

Joel’s missing something here. Has to be. You love Joel. Joel loves you. That’s been established, just like, two minutes ago. And you’ve been intimate with him many times before. The next logical step in this series of very out of order steps would be to kiss you. Unless…“Are you nervous?”, he asks.

“About what?”, you ask, “Kissing?”

“No, underwater basket weaving. Yes, kissing,” he sighs, “You seem nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” you lie, “I’d just like to be the one to do it first.”

“Oh,” Joel replies, still a little confused, “Yeah, naturally. Makes sense.” He takes you by the hand and leads you to his living room, sits you on the couch and takes his place next to you. “Lay it on me, then.” 

“I can’t just–”

“You can,” he interrupts, coaxing you gently, “Come closer.” You scoot closer, but it’s not enough for Joel. Still wearing nothing but a thong and an apron, he lifts you by your ass and places you on his lap. Joel wears an expectant look on his face as you adjust yourself on his lap, feeling so awkward and out of your element. You’ve kissed people before, this should be no big deal. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous with Joel, especially when you’ve done everything else with him. 

“Joel, I– I don’t know where to put my hands.”

“Right here,” he whispers, placing your hands on his shoulders, “Or here,” he moves your hands to his jaw, his patchy beard prickly under your fingertips. “Wherever you want.”

“I like your shoulders,” you whisper, dropping your hands back to his shoulders. One of your hands slides to the back of his neck, playing with his soft curls. 

“S’good,” he says. And oh, his eyes. Brown and so warm, inviting, so beautiful. 

“Close your eyes,” you demand, intimidated by his stare. “Sorry. Close your eyes,” you repeat, softer. 

“My bad,” Joel replies, his eyes now shut. You’ve never noticed how pretty his lashes are before now. They’re gorgeous, so long. “They’re closed now.”

“Okay,” you breathe. 

“You got it,” he encourages. 

God, this is daunting. You close your eyes, lean forward…and smooch him right on the cheek. There. Easy. 

“Doesn’t count,” Joel murmurs through a smile, eyes still closed. Fuck. You adjust yourself on his lap, lean forward and…nothing. Joel waits. And waits. And waits. 

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” you say, trying to will yourself to just do it.

“Okay, sweetheart. You got it,” he whispers. But you don’t kiss him yet, and Joel keeps waiting, feeling himself beginning to grow hard as you keep squirming on his lap, adjusting yourself some more. “Hon?”

“Yeah?”

“Any minute, now.”

“I know,” you say, “I’m gonna kiss you.” But you adjust again. A minute passes with you on Joel’s lap as he waits patiently for you to finally kiss him. Another minute. And then you lean forward and – nothing. 

“I’m gonna count down from three, and then you’ll kiss me. How about that?”

Yeah, sounds like a plan. 

“Okay,” you reply. 

“Three…two…”, Joel counts, and you prepare once more to kiss him, “One,” Nothing. Joel sighs, “You’re killin’ me here.”

“I was about to do it, Joel.”

“Uh huh.”

“I was,” you argue, “You just keep talking and–”

“Oh, you’re so full of shit. You’re the one doin’ most of the talkin’, like usual.”

“That’s not true,” you argue, but are interrupted when he opens his eyes. That’s not supposed to happen. He wears a mischievous grin as he sits up and his hands begin to slide up your sides. Your already pounding heart begins to beat even harder, faster, because Jesus Christ, he seems like he’s about to kiss you. “What are you doing?”

“Ya got three more seconds to kiss me. Three…”

“Joel, not funny,” you scold as he takes your face in his hands. 

“Two…”

You’re beginning to panic, “Joel–”

And then he fucking kisses you, the bastard! No tongue, just a sweet, gentle peck. It’s despicable. You shove him back on the couch and glare at him, “You kissed me!”

“How awful,” Joel says with mock sympathy before he leans forward and kisses you again. You shove him again, harder.

“You asshole. I was gonna do it.”

“No, you weren’t,” he replies plainly. He tries to kiss you again, but you keep your hands on his shoulders, pinning him to the couch cushion. Joel’s smirking, but you’re scowling.

“Yes, I was.”

“Okay,” Joel laughs, “We can redo it, then.”

You sigh, “No, Joel, we cannot redo it. You already ruined it.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah. That’s right.”

“Shit. S’too bad,” Joel feigns a sympathetic pout as he wraps both hands around your wrists that pin his shoulders, removing them from his body. He pushes your hands behind your back, holding them tightly as he kisses you again. And again, this time a little longer. Your lips begin to slide against his, and…god, they’re soft. The bastard.

“You’re ruining–”

“For the love of god, you’re drivin’ me fuckin’ nuts,” Joel mumbles against your lips. 

“I was supposed to–”

“No. You had your turn. We’re doin’ it my way now,” Joel says, “That means,” he kisses you, “M’gonna kiss you,” another kiss, “And fuck you,” another kiss, “As I please, because I love you,” he whispers. He kisses you before he maneuvers you to lay across the couch cushions, now pinning your wrists above your head under just one of his hands “And you can’t do a thing about it. Got it?” 

“I–”

He doesn’t let you argue further. Always so stubborn, you. “Good girl. Yeah, you got it,” Joel kisses you again. It’s different this time. Deeper, hungrier, messier. So much tension, time spent dancing around feelings, and it’s all out there now. His tongue slides past your lips and he tastes like cinnamon and sugar. You’ve been depriving yourself of him for too long. “And after all this, I’m gonna eat some of them cinnabons you made. And I won’t share, either.”

With his free hand, Joel unzips his pants to free his cock. “You know what you do to me, trouble?” he asks, breathing heavily. “Got me hard as a fuckin’ rock with all that squirmin’ ya did instead of kissin’ me,” Joel lifts the bottom of your apron up, exposing yourself to him, already dripping wet as he pulls off your soaked thong. You could have expected the ensemble wouldn’t have lasted long. And how are you already wet? One second you’re arguing about a stupid kiss and the next, he’s got you pinned beneath him and you’re dripping. You gasp as Joel gathers your slick with his fingers before stroking his cock, dipping his head back down to kiss you. He kisses your lips sloppily, then your cheek and down your jaw, your neck, nipping at the skin and soothing the marks with his tongue. It feels hot and passionate, and loving and dirty; all the best things at once. 

“Oh, god,” you moan as he kisses further down your body, still stroking his cock. He pauses momentarily to pull the strap of the apron over your head, then lifting your ass to untie the apron in the back. He pulls the fabric away from you quickly, tossing it on the floor. He kisses your chest, dividing his attention equally between your breasts. Pinching, twisting one nipple, kissing and licking the other, then switching. He leaves them wet with his spit as he kisses down your body, stopping before he reaches your pussy. “Joel,” you whine, “Please– need your mouth on me.”

“Oh, convenient. Now you want my mouth,” he breathes, teasing you.

“Please, I need it, need you,” you beg. 

“Wouldn’t ya know it, I need your mouth too.”

“So? Me first.”

“God, you’re a brat. Nice try,” Joel pulls away from your body, taking off his clothes quickly, “Said we’re doin’ things my way. Tryin’ somethin’ new today. Scoot,” he motions for you to move to the side. “On all fours, now. Come on, up,” you scoot to the side where Joel tells you to, slightly confused as you take the position. Joel takes his place next to you, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you down to his face. “Sit,” he tells you.

“Joel,” you begin to protest. Surely he doesn’t want you to actually sit on his face, right?

“You trust me.” It’s not a question. He knows you trust him, he knows you know he’ll take care of you. Of course he will. His voice is firm, confident, “I need you to sit,” as he pulls your center to his mouth, wasting no time in pressing kisses into your folds, slick and sticky with your growing arousal. Your breasts are pressed against his soft stomach, hands gripping his meaty thighs. Freeing an arm from its place at your hip, Joel wraps his hand around his cock, rock hard with a swollen blushed tip. He uses his other hand to reach for your head, pushing your face towards his member. “Take me in your mouth,” he says. “See? We’re compromising. S’what people in love do.” What an asshole.

Wrapping a hand around his thick cock, you guide his tip to your mouth, pressing wet kisses against the smooth skin. He tastes like he always does, familiar and masculine, salty and sweaty, as you trace over his swollen veins with your tongue. Joel groans against your cunt as he parts your lips, your tongue still painting delicate swirls on his skin. 

“Yeah, attagirl,” he praises in a raspy voice, “Best of both worlds, ain’t it?” Joel laps at your cunt, moaning softly at the way you taste, your arousal almost as sweet and delicious as your cinnamon rolls from earlier. He keeps you held firm against his face as he licks you, alternating between drawing firm lines with the tip of his tongue and fat stripes with his tongue flattened. 

“Mmmm,” you moan, voice muffled by his cock. You’ve got him as deep as you can take him, your nose nudging his balls slightly as you cup them gently in your hand. Joel surprises you when he dips his tongue into your pussy, tasting every bit of your pussy. You stop what you’re doing, the only thing your mind can focus on is the feeling of his tongue working magic inside you.

He swats your hip, “Know it feels good, but it goes both ways, sweetheart.”

“Please, Joel,” you beg. 

“You know the rules,” he says, “You stop, I stop. Keep goin’, you’re suckin’ my cock so good, sweetheart. So good. Always do, you know that?” You begin to bob your head on his cock once more, Joel rewarding you with wet, sloppy, open mouthed kisses against your pussy. It takes everything you have to focus on his pleasure when he attaches his lips to your clit, sucking gently on the sensitive spot and humming against you. It’s not long before that familiar feeling begins to build in your stomach, your first orgasm washing over you. 

You gasp for air, “Oh my god, Joel,” as he works you through your climax. Joel never lets up, not once. He keeps sucking, licking your clit, his facial hair tickling your skin and only adding to the overwhelming sensation. Once more, your peak begins to build. “I’m– fuck, I’m gonna come again.” 

“S’the fuckin’ point, my love,” Joel mumbles quietly, and you can feel his smirk. Despite the rules, you’re not even sucking his cock anymore, your face instead resting on his body, haphazardly stroking his length as pleasure erupts from your core. You’re a moaning mess, pussy dripping and soaking Joel’s face. 

Joel gives you a moment to catch your breath. Underneath you, he places one last kiss right on your clit before he gently slides himself out from your body. You’re hardly coherent as he meets you once more, this time his face inches above yours, caging you in his arms. His cock bounces between your legs and he leans down to kiss you again. His lips are wet and you can taste your arousal on his tongue. “Look at that, I stole another one,” he taunts. 

“You’re a dick,” you breathe against his mouth, your body betraying you as you can’t help the smile that forms on your lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” and in one swift motion, Joel lines himself up with your entrance and pushes into you. He kisses you again, swallowing your gasp as he parts your insides, letting you feel every inch of him. God, he feels good. You’ll never tire of that stretch, that delicious feeling of being completely full of him. 

“Oh, Joel,” you moan. He pulls out slowly, then slides back in at a harsher pace, grunting when he bottoms out inside of you. He takes both of your hands in his own, pinning them above your head as he rocks his hips. It’s tender yet dominant, just how everything is with Joel. Just how you like him. 

“Love this pussy,” he purrs, “An’ I love you so much,” as he fucks you deeply, intensely. You whimper through his thrusts, each stroke fluid and firm and intentional. He knows your body like his own. “Takin’ me so good, sweetheart. You always do.”

You writhe underneath him, relishing in the pleasure he gives you. His name and sweet whisperings of love are all you can speak, each word coming out in soft, broken cries. The wet, sticky noises of your pussy fill the room, along with your moans and Joel’s grunting, groaning, and heaving breaths. You tilt your head to the side, arms still pinned beneath Joel’s hands. You kiss his wrists and bite his skin there gently.

“Come with me, baby,” he coos, adjusting the angle and finding that sweet spot inside you, that spot he knows and loves. He lets go of your arms, one of his big, masculine hands now on your waist, the other thumbing your clit. “Give me one more, sweetheart.”

It’s all it takes. His words send you over the edge, your pussy squeezing him, walls fluttering and pulsing with every thrust of his cock. “Fuck, Joel,” you whimper as he fucks you through your orgasm. You wrap your legs around his body, the heels of your feet bouncing against his ass, simultaneously pulling him into a tight embrace with your now free arms. Everything about this moment with Joel is perfect, the way he smells, his hot skin, how close and safe you feel with him. It sends Joel over the edge, too. With your name on his lips, your cunt gushing and pulsing around his cock, he spills inside you, painting ribbons of himself deep inside you as he helps you ride out your own climax as long as he can. 

He pulls out of you with a soft groan. He cleans you quickly with his t-shirt, a warm smile on his lips. He kisses your forehead, then sits back against the couch, catching his breath. You sit up too, and Joel holds out his arm as an invitation for you to curl into his side. Your head resting on his shoulder, you stare at him. All of his beautiful features, warm brown eyes, his smile lines, his aquiline nose. And then, you do it. You kiss him. Long and deep, passionate. Hours could be passing, you don’t know. 

Joel breaks the kiss. He pulls away from you, no longer smiling warmly. Instead, he wears his teasing grin. “Finally,” he smirks. He holds up his hand for a high five. Fucker. You roll your eyes, lifting yourself off the couch and buttoning Joel’s flannel over yourself. You make your way to the kitchen, finding a plate and placing two cinnamon rolls on them. You reach for an old pencil that sits on the window sill, scribbling ‘Ellie’ on a piece of nearby scratch paper and leaving it next to the plate. A deal is a deal, after all. 

“Don’t leave me hangin’, now,” Joel calls out to you from the living room. You turn around and he’s waving his hand, nagging you about his abandoned high five. 

You flip him off. Asshole. 

[coucouatoi]

don't want to be alone | h.s.

Pairings: Harry Styles x Reader

Summary: Divorcing the biggest superstar on the planet is the hardest thing you've ever done. Almost as hard as marrying him was.

Warnings: Angst, couples therapy, a little bit of fluff, hopeful ending

A/N: I don't know why I'm feeling so full of angst... but, please enjoy!

Flashback are in italic and present day is normal text

Boxes are littered around the house. Some full and taped shut others still being stuffed with your items. It's a slow and torturous process, having to choose what to take, what to throw out and what things are a conversation waiting to happen "That's a wedding gift from my aunt" or "When have you ever used that?" or even better "I know it was a gift, but I paid for it so i'll keep it". It's like he knows exactly which buttons to press to get the fights started. Granted you might be doing the same thing... But it doesn't make him entitled to all the belongings you've ever shared.

You've managed to find all the picture albums, the ones you decided to make for sentimental value. The ones you gifted him in tender moments. The ones filled with so much love, so much hope and promises for a future together. The ones you're now highly considering throwing into a paper shredder and tossing into the nearest incinerator. The ones you won't be able to get rid of. The anniversary album you gave him on your one year, the wedding album, the honeymoon album, the many travel albums and, of course, your daughter's first album.

Little Anya, barely 9 months old just starting to babble her first words. Chubby legs working so hard to keep her standing and exploring. She can barely take 3 steps one after the other but she's a fighter. Your little girl that is now a cause for argument, no, fights. Custody battles. The true war between yourself and your husband, Harry Styles. Neither of you want to lose or call for a tie, it's not how either of you operate in conflict. That, most likely, is the reason for the downfall of your relationship.

Frustrated you put the albums back where you found them and you head to the kitchen.

Most kitchen items have been packed up, Harry had never really invested in worthwhile cutlery or electronics of any sort. You take some orange juice from the fridge and pour a glass for yourself. The fridge itself is barren, with only the essentials left... neither of you has gone to the groceries in weeks. Today is not going to be a good day.

From the rediscovery of your love-filled albums to the boxes you've spent most of the day doing, you still have one horrible thing to do.

Couples therapy, your first-ever session. You thought, well still think, that this is too far gone to save in therapy. There won't be anything new shared that you haven't already screamed in each other's faces and self-help talks aren't exactly going to do the trick. Anne, Harry's mother, insisted that your marriage doesn't only include two people anymore. Anya makes it worth trying, she is worthy of a stable home as she grows up. No matter how unstable having a superstar parent may be, divorced parents might just add to that an unruly amount. So, you've both agreed to try. Try your very best to reassemble your love no matter how shattered it has become. Love. Love hasn't manifested itself once since about your seventh month of pregnancy. Love has vanished from your husband's once warm and inviting eyes, it no longer lingers on his fingertips and doesn't even creep into the more tender moments you must share with your baby. Love feels like a complete joke to you now.

-

The waiting room is empty of other clients which is a blessing in disguise. This is the absolute last place you'd want to run into Harries. Even if the media has already been dragging you in the mud for "breaking their dear superstar's heart" and has been making all sorts of claims about you and your marriage. In the very beginning, Harry had spoken up about these articles and had gotten his team to shut some people up but he's been losing care for... well, you.

"Harry and Y/N?" you look up meeting the eyes of who you can only assume is your therapist. Without sparring your husband a glance you get up and follow her into her office. It's cosy and smells like vanilla. There's a yellow glow to the room, it bounces off her multiple frames and decorations. Very nonthreatening, immediately putting you a little more at ease. She gestures for you to take a seat on her velvet green couch and you sit down squeezing yourself onto the left armrest. Harry does the same to the right.

"Good afternoon to you both, I am Trinity Finch. Can I get either of you something to drink before I sit down?" She smiles politely as her eyes shift between both of you. You only shake your head as an answer not trusting your stomach at the moment.

"Water if it's not too much trouble, please" Harry's voice is strained, he had been at the studio all morning probably preparing a new album you aren't aware of.

Trinity nods and quickly grabs a water bottle from a small fridge she's got right behind her desk. Harry mumbles a thank you as she hands it to him. You don't realise that his hands are shaking as you're back to looking around the room. He takes a few big gulps before your therapist gets to sit in her chair.

"Today I would just like to start with a history lesson on your relationship. How it started, all important moments, how parenthood has changed your shared life and just how you two are as a couple" She starts getting things ready around her, notebook, pens, highlighters, some sticky notes and you swear that you spotted some bright childish stickers. Her long manicured nails tap against the glass of her desk a few times as the silence stretches. Neither of you taking the first step in this session. When she looks up again she doesn't look annoyed or surprised by the lack of an answer.

"Harry, how did you meet your wife?" Trinity asks him gently.

Harry seems caught by surprise to have been asked a question directly. He looks at you briefly before turning his eyes back to her.

"Um, we meet on the plane. For some reason, my private plane for that day was not available and they booked me on a regular flight. Premium ended up being full and I got an economy seat. I had the aisle and she had the middle we ended up bonding over our shared movie choice. Then I asked her out and um here we are?" He ends with a question. As if unsure if "here" is a good thing, it's definitely not but meeting has, unfortunately, brought you both here.

"And when was this?" she asks.

"April 2018" he answers quickly. She nods presumably writing it down.

"How was your relationship before marriage Y/N?" she looks at you now with kind eyes. They are big and dark. Staring right into your soul. It makes you slightly uncomfortable but at the same time you don't want her to look away she's your lifeline right now.

"It was very easy. I work remotely as a translator and an editor, so I've always been able to tag along on his travels and tours. He, um, he always insisted that he rather have me with him even if we couldn't see each other every single day. Just knowing I was near helped him..." you sigh. You don't want to shed tears this early into your session. You don't want Harry to see you cry any more than he already has over your lost relationship.

"I really loved following him around the globe" you add, looking down at your lap willing your wet eyes to dry.

"Any fighting? How did you deal with that?" Trinity is still talking to you maybe even sensing that you're about to cry. Is that what she wants from this?

"Well, yeah. I mean all couples fight, right? We fought over the same things all the time really. I wanted more affection I guess pressuring him to take some time away from the spotlight or he wanted me all to himself whenever it worked with him without thinking of my work. Our jobs were the main reason for fighting between us" Besides you, Harry scoffs before taking another sip of water. Your head turns to him

so quickly that a sharp pain forms in the back of your neck. Your posture immediately tightens, muscles locking and your breath gets heavier.

"What? You don't agree?" you question him in a much harsher tone than you were previously using. He meets your gaze and shrugs.

"I do but that's not all we fought over" he shrugs again not looking away. Is he trying to pick a fight right now? Here of all places?

"Then what? What am I missing?" you prepare yourself for the worst. Ready to feel like absolute shit at anything he might say.

"Your constant jealousy was a contender for the most appearances in our fights" his entire expression is accusatory but he does this thing with his posture. Gets all soft and somewhat blazé making you feel inferior and so incredibly small.

You want to storm out. Call Anne to apologise that it couldn't work out and immediately sign the divorce papers that are permanently placed right on your dining table.

Not wanting to fuel this energy taking over him right now you shrug as well before facing Trinity again. She's watching both of you like a hawk, processing the way you react to conflict with each other. Making mental notes as well as some physical ones all while hostility happens between her clients.

"We'll move on from this for now. Harry, how was the wedding? How did married life change your bond?" this seemingly calms his overgrown ego. His face is neutral again but there's a softness to it now, recalling the happy days.

"We had an Italy wedding. We, I love Italy. I flew everyone out, our families and friends, and then we stayed there for a month more for our honeymoon. The wedding itself was... amazing. We kept it small. Intimate. With my life it's always been hard to have that so, it was important to us" he sounds blissful towards the last part. Probably back there now in his mind. Ah, the good old days as they say.

"I don't think married life changed us much. We were living together before that and we'd been planning it since we got together practically" he stops talking again to take another sip of water. You look at the lady in front of you again and as she begins to open her mouth to probably question him more Harry starts talking again.

"I guess tension started about a year in. The media wasn't kind to her. They made up cheating rumours on both sides and manipulated things to make them seem like something else. Someone even showed up at our old house while I was out" he took a deep breath, cracking some of his knuckles at the same time, "We were always on edge around each other. Throwing these rumours at one another just to I don't know, get a reaction? Plus, we were stuck at home because of Covid and my tour was postponed. It was a real shit show" he laughs bitterly and you nod along to what he was saying. That was just a terrible time. For everyone.

"Then I got to go on tour, Y/N didn't follow along for all of it but she was there most of the beginning. It wasn't the same as before. There was this distance that just never got better. And then she got pregnant" he almost sounds exhausted. Maybe he is, you're not sure how much he's slept lately.

-

Shit. Fuck. This can't be happening now. Shit! The word "Pregnant" seems to be mocking you as you look down at it. Mocking the fact that you and Harry have not seriously spoken in two days and that you're flying back home tomorrow. Mockingly reminding you that this can only make things worse right now.

"Y/N, come on the car is waiting downstairs" your husband's voice is weak through the thick hotel bathroom door. He's performing in Toronto tonight. The second day, the last day before he flies to New York and you go back to London.

You walk out of the bathroom, straight past Harry, not wanting him to read your face and figure out that something is terribly wrong. You slip into your shoes for the night and take a deep breath, no scratch that, a huge breath. Willing your facial expression to cooperate before you turn to him and smile.

"Let's go superstar!" he smiles back and walks over to you. Grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his mouth so he can plant a kiss on the back of it.

"We just might have to cancel tonight if you look this good" his free hand wraps around you tightly glueing you to his body. You know he doesn't mean it but you pretend to consider it nonetheless.

"Mh what about all your adoring fans? Won't they be so utterly crushed?" you tease against his lips. He smiles wickedly before slowly nodding.

"I do have quite the engagement this evening... how about I make it up to you after?" he presses soft kisses to the sides of your face. Framing it.

"That's a pretty good offer, I just might have to tak-"

"HARRY STYLES GET YOUR ASS OUT OF YOUR HOTEL ROOM!!" Jeff's voice is full of annoyance as it cuts you off. Rude.

You laugh before getting pulled out of the room by your husband. The small plastic stick forgotten on the washroom counter for now.

You get a harsh reminder tho when you're back at the hotel after yet another amazing concert. You're laying on the bed completely stretched out and now only dressed in your underwear. Harry's currently using the washroom to try and get some of the remaining glitter off his face when he finds the secret you've kept all evening.

"Y/N, what's this?" his voice is so shaky that you barely even understood what he asked you. However, when you look up your brain catches up. He's in his boxers, left hand in his hair and right hand holding the test like it's made of glass as he looks at it as if it's going to explode. Fuck.

"No chance that you suddenly lost the ability to read?" you try and lighten the suddenly very heavy mood in the room. It fails.

"You're pregnant. How, I mean no I know how. Fuck, you're pregnant" he looks up at you panicked.

"We don't have to keep it" is the first thing out of your mouth. Probably as a panic response to his reaction. Not wanting this to turn into another fight.

"What?! Why wouldn't we, you don't want, I um" he takes a second. He's just breathing heavily while looking at you desperately. "You don't want to keep it?" he breathes out.

"You do?" is all you answer. You stand slowly, finding the clothes you just took off to put them back on. Whatever mood you were in is gone you're now filled with anxiety and a deep fear.

"You leave tomorrow... We won't see each other for what 3 months? In Mexico?" he hasn't moved an inch. Feet seemingly glued to the floor and limbs were frozen.

-

Pregnancy. One of the worst and best times of your life. Your gorgeous baby girl came out of all the pain you suffered. She gave a new meaning to the way you live, made you forget about all the physical pain you endured and...

"Why do you say it in that way? Like you still dread what the pregnancy brought" Trinity's voice almost startles you. You'd been so lost in your thoughts that you'd almost forgotten where you were.

"I don't! I love Anya" his voice is stern.

"What about your wife? What happened during the pregnancy?" she's digging. Wants to find the right buttons to push.

Harry stammers, but no answer seems to satisfy him. His hands are squeezed under his things, his right leg bouncing and his eyes avoiding either of you.

"We didn't plan her, I was right in the middle of my tour. We, um, we weren't doing very good and she was about to go home" he looks at you suddenly surprising you when he meets your eyes. You can't read him, can't understand what he's feeling. You haven't been able to read him in months.

"She- You, Y/N, she got really sick in February the seven-month mark. I was in Australia and I couldn't be there. It really strained us, we fought all the time over the phone and in person. I guess that's really when we went downhill" his jaw tenses when he looks away from you. Looks like he's not happy to have to have shared this with the room.

"Okay, thank you, Harry. I think now's a great time to take a breather. I'll meet both of you individually when we come back. So, see you both here in 20 minutes?" Trinity smiles at both of you and keeps smiling until you both walk out.

-

Harry doesn't come back. You wait 45 minutes in Trinity's office looking like an idiot. She dismisses you with a look of pity on her face before scheduling another appointment 5 days later, lots of work to do you assume. You rush out of the building humiliation creeping into every inch of your body. How could he do this on the first day? It was going fairly well, well you think so anyway... did he give up on your relationship right then and there?

As you make your way to your car you see him. Harry is pacing back and forth in front of his car as he seemingly argues on the phone. His free hand waves erratically in front of him, gesturing like mad for someone who can't even see him. So this is what he's been doing? Arguing over the phone while you sat in a therapist's office waiting to try and work on your ever-crumbling marriage. You scoff before turning away from him and to your car. But nothing seems to be on your side today as your husband hears you and immediately calls out to you.

"Y/N! Why are you leaving?" you hear him walk towards you, the clacking of his shoes getting closer to you but you ignore him and walk away faster.

You're completely focused on your black Subaru, the "You're so Golden" sticker catching your eye and making you more pissed off. Something that was put there because you loved the song, because of how beautiful your husband's voice is in the song but now all you want to do is rip it right off. So, that's what you do.

Your nails claw at the edges of it desperately. You don't want any reminders of Harry on your car, you don't want to think of him while putting the groceries away, while walking around the car after putting Anya in her car seat and you don't want to see it in your rearview mirror anymore. The top corner lifts as you're pulling at it giving you the perfect leverage to rip it right off. You throw it to the ground right before turning around to stare daggers into Harry's eyes.

"45 minutes, Harry. I sat there 45 minutes with our therapist looking at me like a beaten dog!" you hiss at him. He is now only about 2 or 3 feet away from you. His eyes are wide, in shock you guess, as he looks at the sticker. "What could you have possibly been doing for more than an hour that made you forget what we were here for?" you're sure you sound desperate right now. Your head is all over the place and your heart feels like it might explode out of your chest.

"An hour? I, no, that couldn't have been more than-"

"You can go back up and ask her if you want because I really really don't want to be around you right now" and now you're crying. Fuck. Why are you crying now? You need to leave.

While rummaging in your bag for your keys Harry grabs your arm. Well maybe not grabs, he just places his hand on you, resting it there delicately. If you weren't so aware of every single inch of your body right now you wouldn't have noticed. No matter how delicate the touch is supposed to be you flinch out of it aggressively.

"I'm, I'm so sorry Y/N. That was my mother, she, fuck" he sighs and runs a hand in his hair gripping it tightly. "She wants us to go up... she's rented a lake house or something I guess" his voice is so soft, shy even.

"Us? You mean you and Anya?" god you hope so.

"I'm so sorry" is all he answers.

-

Anne Twist is a very difficult woman to say no to. Actually, it's impossible to say no to her. In the many years you've known her, she's always been able to find a way to make you say yes. Always in a good way. She loves you, she has told you that countless times, and you love her but now that you're... the way you are with her son you don't know where you stand. Yet, she has still found a way to get you to agree to something you would have much rather not have gone to. You're in a small townhouse almost 4 hours away from your home in London with your mother-in-law, your daughter and your soon-to-be ex-husband. What has your life come to?

Anya is sitting in her high chair passionately eating banana slices as you watch her. She's already gobbled up the strawberries and pita bread slices she also had for her snack. She's such a good eater always so ready to try new things and taste whatever the adults around her eat. Especially the sweet treats her dad sneaks her.

"Do you want to go take a dip after huh? We should enjoy the water my love" you coo at her as she takes her final bite of food. She smiles at you like she understood what you asked and you chuckle wiping her chubby cheeks and hands. She'll be able to float around in the water for a little bit with you before you put her down for a nap. The steps of your morning are perfectly planned so that you can have your solo Zoom session with Trinity.

There is a small river behind the house you're staying in. The water goes up to just above your breast and it's the perfect warmth at this time of day. You've made your way down to it and are now setting up Anya's towel for when she'll be too tired to entertain you and ready for her mid-day snooze. She's currently lying right by you looking up at the sky with such curiosity, probably trying to figure out what the hell clouds are.

"You're so curious my love!" you shake her gently as you smile widely. "What do you see up there?" as you look up to join her sky-gazing you spot Harry making his way to the river as well. He's only got very short grey swimming trunks on meaning his entire chest, thighs, calves, and arms are out for the whole world to see. Maybe that's an exaggerated statement as you're the only one looking right now. You want to scold yourself for staring, you really really do but he's just so... so captivating and very enjoyable to look at no matter how much you resent him at the moment.

"Mind if I join you ladies?" his voice is more cheerful than when you heard it last. Must be because he's actually speaking to and looking at Anya.

However, when you don't answer his question he looks up at you. Expression now closed off again, how it's always been for the past few months. You smile politely and nod before turning your back to both of them so you can take your robe off. Your swimsuit isn't anything special; simple black one-piece that's high on the hips and low on your back. You think it looks pretty good on you but now you feel very aware of the amount of skin you're showing. You decide to just get in the water hoping its dark colour hides you. Hides away the skin your husband might be looking at.

"Looks like mummy is in a hurry, we should join her. What do you think sweetheart?" Harry picks your baby up and makes his way into the water. He holds her tightly to his chest as he climbs in, just in case he slips on the stones he uses as stairs. Once your daughter's chubby limbs meet the water her mouth forms into an adorable "O" shape. It's the second time Anya's been in the water now so she must still be unsure about this feeling. Harry turns her so that her front faces you and her back is against him. She smiles when she spots you reaching her arms out quickly which splashes some water around. She looks at you with a shocked expression and does it again with a giggle now.

"You little troublemaker! Trying to splash me!" you tease her sending some water her way. She answers with a sweet giggle and shakes her arms around as fast as she possibly can.

"Mh, my jokester gene is strong in her" Harry's voice is laced with pride. You playfully roll your eyes at him and hum affirmatively.

"And her love for singing too" you add remembering so many moments where she hums to any song playing. Her favourite thing to do is to harmonise with her father. His deep voice always gets her attention, always gets her to mumble and hum along with her own lyrics.

"Oh yes, she's the next big thing this one" he affirms kissing the top of her small head affectionately.

It's in moments like these that you tend to forget how bad it is between you. How many horrible things you've shouted at each other not caring how deep your words could cut. The accusations, the insults, the taunts and even the lies still weigh heavy on both of you. You like these softer moments, where you're reminded of how much love you both had for each other. Have? Had? You don't know anything about your feelings anymore, they are much too complicated to understand...

All three of you stay in the river for about an hour more before Anya starts yawning and fussing. When you exit the water you're quick to slip your robe back on still overly aware. Harry wraps the fluffy towel you had gotten ready around your baby. Her head rests in the crook of his neck, her eyelids already heavy as she blinks slowly. You all walk back to the house together silently. Might it be to keep the sleepy baby calm or to keep the peaceful aura around you and your husband, you don't know.

Harry insists that he will put the sleepy girl to bed and that you should take a shower first. After all, you have the first private sessions with your therapist. The mention of her does make the air in the townhouse tense again but Anne appears immediately to kiss Anya before she naps. You use that moment to sneak into your shared room with Harry. Luckily, it has two single beds so you don't have to share with him.

Signing deeply you rid yourself of the now damp robe you had on. Another blessing in disguise, this room has an en suite bathroom so you'll be able to jump right into the shower. Before that you do want to set up your laptop for the video call, you want to be as ready as you possibly can be. You grab your device from your backpack and make your way to the small desk in the corner of the room. There's a bunch of papers scattered around it, one glance at them and you immediately know what they are.

Lyrics. Drafts of songs and melodies written by your rockstar husband. You don't mean to read any of the words you really don't but as soon as you spot your name at the top of one of the pages you're doomed. You put your laptop down on Harry's bed which is right next to the desk and reach for that exact paper.

The words you read are full of longing, pain, sadness and fear. They mourn love, they are mourning your love. You pick up another sheet of paper, this one has no title but there are so many lines written. This one is reeks of self-hatred, of shame and guilt... it shakes the weak barriers you've built around your heart. All of the lyrics you read on different papers revolve around the same emotions. These are all about your relationship. About the death of it. About his desire to turn around. You don't realise you're crying until a tear falls onto the paper you hold. The ink bleeds into itself where it's been wet blurring the words slightly. You quickly wipe your face and put the papers down. You shouldn't be looking at these, you're invading his privacy.

"Thought you were showering" Harry's voice startles you out of the chair. You meet the floor with a loud thud. Your tear-filled eyes meet his sharp ones. Scrambling up to your feet you grab your laptop ready to explain, ready to apologise over and over again.

"At least tell me what you think" he sighs walking into the bedroom and shutting the door behind himself. This shocks you. What does he mean? He, he's not mad? Isn't disappointed that you invaded his creative space? Your mouth opens and closes a few times unsure what you should answer.

"I'm sorry" is all you're able to get out. Your brain is blank in absolute fear but tears keep falling from your eyes.

"I should be apologising... you, you weren't supposed to see those" he walks in your direction slowly, testing the waters of how close you'll let him get. He's closer than arm's reach when you flinch backwards slightly and he stops immediately.

"I was going to ask you for your permission before making any of those full songs but you know music is how I cope" he whispers now that he's so close to you. Silence takes over the room again, stretching out for too long. Your eyes somehow keep producing tears as you try and speak. Hopelessly searching for words to say.

"Do you really miss us? You miss me?" is what you come up with, your voice is so shaky that you're on the verge of sobbing uncontrollably.

This shocks Harry in place, seemingly not prepared for that kind of questioning from you. His mouth gapes and his eyes grow wide. This time you do see his hands start shaking. You're not entirely sure what this emotion is.

"Of course I do. Did you not think so?" while still whispering he reaches out to hold you but stops himself hands falling at his sides.

"Yo- Harry, you asked for the divorce. How was I supposed to know you miss me?" your voice breaks. You don't understand, why is this happening now, why is he saying these things?

-

"We should just get a divorce" Harry snaps at you as he fights back tears. Your expression immediately closes up, your body reacting before your thoughts and words do. Protecting you from what he just said, building walls around you and your heart as quickly as possible.

"Fine" you spit out as you turn away from him and walk straight out of your bedroom. If that's what he wants then so be it. You won't beg for anything now that he's made his decision.

-

"I know, okay? I know that I asked for it and that it's the reason why you don't talk to me anymore. Well, you do but not really" he sighs and sits down on his bed, damn swim trunks wetting the bed "We talk about Anya and when we're not we are yelling at each other... so when was I supposed to tell you that I missed you? That I regretted asking for the divorce..." he looks at you with a guilty expression, all his emotions are coming up at once.

"Why did you ask for it?" you ask him sitting back on the desk chair with your laptop still in your hands.

"I got in my head. You were saying we should take some time for ourselves maybe live apart... with everything that kept being said about us, I got so scared" he takes your laptop out of your grip and puts it down next to him.

"I thought you were going to fight me on it..." he adds as he grabs your hands tenderly. Like he's afraid you'll break.

You shake your head in disbelief not sure what to say. Your thoughts are all over the place, what should you make of this?

"It broke my heart" When did his face get so close to yours? You should really move away. You can't fall back into him, you can't let yourself do that. So you pull away from him roughly, your hands tugging out of his hold, face moving to the side, a sob making its way out of you as your back meets the chair-back.

When you meet Harry's eyes you can see the pain, the hurt, in them. They are brimming with tears that are so close to spilling out.

"Are we... are we too broken?" his voice has dropped to a whisper. He sounds so sad and scared.

"I'm worried" You take in a few breaths before you speak again, "What if we just end up hurting each other again? What if we can't go back?" you choke out the last few words. Tears spill endlessly out of your eyes and sobs rack your entire body.

It feels like you're running out of air and the little bits you get in are painful. Your eyes burn as you cry and your hands are shaking like crazy.

Harry might be answering or trying to communicate but nothing is making its way past your meltdown. What does make it through is the feeling of his arms around you. Him pulling you against his chest tightly, immediately rubbing your back as soothingly as he can. Your hands are grabbing his still bare skin desperately, wanting to anchor yourself in any way you can. Your face rests on his peck, right above his heart, the frantic beating bouncing around your head.

"Breathe, you have to breathe love" he speaks delicately in your ear, breaking through the barrier your body has put up.

"I'm- I'm, I can't... Harry I can't" your clawing at him almost trying to get under his skin, someplace you might be able to understand everything that's going through his mind.

He wiggles around a little before laying you both down as he keeps reassuring and encouraging you. He drags you on top of him your face now pressed up against the juncture of his neck. Your left-hand makes its way into his hair, pulling at it as softly as you can manage. Harry's hands run up and down your back, your arms, and your neck and he even pets your hair delicately. He's always known how to best calm you down... how to bring you back down to earth and out of the panic attacks you sometimes get when you're overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry" he repeats that over and over with a pained desperation. Harry's scared shitless too. He doesn't know how things will go with your relationship. He can't guarantee that you won't end up actually wanting a divorce one day... But he can love you. He has and will keep loving you. He hopes it'll be enough to save your marriage. He'll work incredibly hard every single day to prove his love for you... if you let him back in he won't ever let you go. He'll leave it all up to you. Your little family is all he needs, he'll spend the rest of his life proving that to you if that's what it takes.

[pinkflamingosims]

Flamingo’s Faves IV, Kitchen Clutter (part one?)

I was making a collection file for my kitchen stuff and couldn't stop myself from taking some pretty pictures.

1. Cutting Boards, Vintage Crockery 4t2 by @moocha-muses, original by @leaf-motif. 2. Paper towels. 4t2 by Veranka. So boring, yet so useful. 3. Spice of Life Rack, Home Chef Hustle 4t2 by @lordcrumps and @tvickiesims. I have a love/hate relationship with this pack. 4. Teapot, Tiny Living 4t2 by @linacheries. 5. Mortar and Pestle, Home Chef Hustle 4t2 by @lordcrumps and @tvickiesims. 6. Storage Stuff by tsld. Sits next to every second coffee maker in my game. 7. Basket Bowls, 4t2 For Rent by @lordcrumps and @platinumaspiration. This pack has so many great bits and we got every last one of them for TS2! 8. Porcelain Tray by @pforestsims (pssst, this is not a kitchen item, it's from the Chateau Bathroom) 9. Small tray, @pforestsims again, comes with tasty treats. 10. One Dining Bowls, 3t2 by Veranka, original by linegud. 11. Decorative Collectible Plate,, Parenthood 4t2 by earlypleasantview. 12. Cambria Fruit Bowl, by Veranka. 13. Banana Peel and Apple Core, 4t2 from Get To Work by @sims-influence. Is this even kitchen clutter? 14. Storage Jars, Buggybooz. A classic, but I always forget how nice all of the recolors are. Peas!

1. Hanging Utensils. From Veranka's 3t2 New Vintage Kitchen, original by Gosik. These don't work on mac, unfortunately. 2. Positronic Pro Magnetic Knife Rack, 4t2 base also by @veranka-downloads. 3. Anti-Donkey Knife Set, 4t2 Cool Kitchen by @kayleigh-83. 4. Pro-Quality Knife Block Set, 4t2 Base Game by Veranka (same as 2). 5. Tom Berry Knife Block, Home Chef Hustle 4t2 by @lordcrumps and @tvickiesims. The japanese steel texture on these is so so pretty and I think I need to have a Tom Berry in my game. 6. Utensils , 4t2 by Veranka. 7. Utensils Bucket, 4t2 by Limonaire, original by @litttlecakes. 8. Utensils Holder, 4t2 kbb's retro vintage vibe by @neosimi. I see now that I only picked the red swatch from this set in all the pictures, but the others are so great, too! There is a cute whimsical vintage style and a cool retro one. 9. Trusty Maxis Utenils Holder, Recolor by luasims. 10. Utensils Holder, Vanilla Kitchen 4t2 by @thimblesims, original by @aira-cc.

1. Wish in a Dish Wall Plates, 4t2 by @lordcrumps. 2. Hanging Pots, 4t2 base by @veranka-downloads. 3. The King's Cookware, 4t2 Country Kitchen by delonariel. 4. Casserole, by buggybooz, must have like everything else in this set. 5. Granny's Cozy Casserole Dish, 4t2 Country Kitchen by delonariel. 6. Conspiracy Mugs, 4t2 by Pixelry, original by @litttlecakes. 7. Retro Dishes, 4t2 kbb's retro vintage vibe by @neosimi. 8. Stacked Pots. 4t2 by TSLD. Fits sinks perfectly. 9. Modern Plates, Home Chef Hustle 4t2 by @lordcrumps and @tvickiesims. 10. Paper Plates, recolor of Veranka's Cambria Plates by @2fingerswhiskey. Comes with red solo cups! 11. Mugs. 4t2 Everyday Clutter by @lordcrumps. The inspiration for this must have been my someone's real life desk. 12. Pitcher, again 4t2 Cottage Living by delonariel. I was really surprised by the modern swatches.

1. Main Squeeze Cannisters, Cottage Living 4t2 by Delonariel. These also have cool modern color options! 2. Deja Brew Coffee Jars, 4t2 by @kayleigh-83, original by @ravasheencc. I love that these are sorted in appliances. 3. and 4. Heritage Flour Tin, and Rustic Kitchen Tin, Country Kitchen 4t2 by Delonariel . 5. Bread Box, Kitchen of tomorrow 4t2 by @kestrelteens, original by @surely-sims. 6. Spicebox Duo, DIne Out 4t2 by Deelee. 7. Heritage Bread Box, Country Kitchen 4t2 by Delonariel. 8. Bread Box, 4t2 kkb’s my cherish things by @neosimi. The colors are soo good!. 9. Storage Box, 4t2 kkb’s retro vintage vibe by @neosimi. 10. Cookie jar, 4t2 by TSLD. 11. Bread Box of Holding, Parenthood 4t2 by earlypleasantview.

[frnchgirls]

warnings: long!, all the angst!!, tyler beat up a guy once :/, infidelity if you squint

when tyler returned to arkansas, you were the last person he expected to see.

in the baking aisle of the piggly wiggly in his hometown was where he found you again after nearly a decade, reading the label on a box of cocoa powder in the same sundress you've had since the two of you dated in high school. thank heavens you notice him and speak first, that way he gets to pretend like he wasn't already contemplating what to say or if you'd even recognize him as soon as he stepped around the corner.

"tyler owens. you got a lotta nerve decidin' to show your face around here." you tease to mask your surprise, pulling your overflowing basket closer to yourself, and holy cow, he thinks you might be prettier now than on the day you met. "oh, really? why's that?" he asks, lifting his hat to greet you. "last i heard, you got famous and moved to new york. the locals don't like it when people make it outta here. must be real jealous." you tell him, and he just nods and strokes his stubble.

"y'know, you're a local. does that mean you're jealous too?" tyler inquires with a smirk, and you're all too quick to reply, "no, sir. knew you were gonna be somethin' the moment i laid eyes on you. only somethin' i've ever wanted to be was a housewife." you smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. you clear your throat and ask him why he's back in town. "my aunt's getting sick, so i thought i'd see her while i still can. my storm chasin' team's been in the pits without me, too. not a lot of work for me in the northeast, if you can imagine." he confesses, and any trace of happiness on your face disappears.

"oh, ty, i'm so sorry." you apologize, and your gaze lands on the items in your shopping basket. "i was fixin' to go home and whip up some coca-cola cake. dunno if it's still your favorite but, maybe you could come with? take some to your aunt for me?" you offer. he's nodding faster than you can blink, half of the items on his grocery list long forgotten after you've checked out and he follows you to your car.

it's not long before the two of you are sat at your kitchen counter, ribs aching from laughter as you reminisce about your teenage escapades. the sweet smell of warm chocolate emanates from the oven and lingers in the air. tyler asks if you've seen his livestreams. you use every excuse as to why you haven't; that you're too busy, that you don't get good internet in rural arkansas, anything but the truth. seeing him that happy without you is just too painful.

"if there's no work in new york, why'd you move there?" you question, taking a sip of coke. he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "for a girl. a girl from sapulpa." you almost choke on the liquid, causing a little to dribble down your chin. "a girl from sapulpa? what?-" you pause to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, and he continues, "a storm chaser from sapulpa. her name's kate. she quit chasin' and got a job with the national oceanic and atmospheric administration. in new york."

your first thought is that she must be sharp as a tack, getting a job at a fancy place like that. but then a hundred more thoughts swarm your brain; when they might have met, if she's pretty, if she's kind, if he loves her, if he wants to marry her.

but you couldn't possibly ask him all that. you're a lady.

tyler breaks the silence. "you been talkin' to any fellas around here?" he's not sure if he even wants to know. you're not sure if you even want to tell him. you don't look him in the eyes when you say, "yeah, i uh- i've been with bobby for about 3 years now. you remember bobby? from school?" and sure, of course he remembers bobby. he spent all of senior year just trying to keep that meathead away from you.

"you know i hated him, right?" tyler spits, running a hand through his hair as he leans over the counter, getting closer to you, "i almost killed him when he tried asking you to prom in front of me. in front of everybody. it was embarrassing." your lip quivers as the distance closes between you. "well, he's different now." you retort, trying to convince him, trying to convince yourself. "that's a load of horse shit." he scoffs, "why are you going out with him, really?"

"maybe because he didn't abandon me, tyler!" you exclaim, and you shudder when you feel his warm breath against your skin. he cups your cheeks in his hands. "hey, hey. peach, look at me. i would've taken you to oklahoma with me in a heartbeat. why didn't you tell me?" he asks, searching your teary eyes. but how do you explain that leaving wasn't your dream? that you would have been happy growing old with him right here? that staying with him would have just held him back? that you had to let him go?

he kisses you. and fuck, you haven't been kissed in so long. but he's not yours anymore.

you force yourself to push him away. "tyler, no. we can't. we can't." you tell him, the words thick as molasses as they fall from your tongue. he reaches for your wrist as you rise from your seat, but you're pulling back before he gets ahold of it. "leave. get out of my house." you speak over him as he begs for the two of you to talk it out. "i mean it, tyler owens. go home." and that's enough to send him on his way, slamming your front door behind him.

by some coincidence, the timer on the oven goes off, letting you know the coca-cola cake you had just forgotten about was done baking. you think maybe you'll eat it all yourself. maybe you'll throw it out. maybe you'll share it with bobby. maybe you'll break up with him.

maybe in another life, you could've been enough for tyler.

[normal-internet-user]

BEING ADOPTED INTO THE KENT FAMILY WOULD INCLUDE...

Showing up at the Kent family farm nervous as all hell.

Your new parents did their best to make you comfortable and at ease on the rather long drive to your new home,

But nerves were natural.

And such was evident at your rather quiet approach.

You didn't really feel like chatting, even if your new parents seemed nice enough.

It was... weird.

You went from living in city suburbs with couples looking to make themselves look better by adopting a 'troubled teen' to being surrounded by corn in the middle of nowhere Kansas.

You had two new brothers appearently. According to Lois.

Jon and Kon.

Funny.

When you'd met Clark he seemed like he was deliberatly trying to make himself smaller and less threatening.

Which was kinda funny because of how comically jacked he was for a reporter.

Your first night wasn't too overwhelming.

Your new family gave you time to settle in, and you even had your own room which was super nice.

It was like a complete blank slate, completely your own to make cozy and comfy.

You settled in surprisingly quickly, Jon was definitly a big help in putting you at ease.

He took it upon himself to show you how to do the chores.

Weeding the garden, feeding the animals, and changing their hay, it was a great way to get to know your little brother.

He also roped you into staying up a little later to play video games in his room.

You were almost positive Clark and Lois knew, and just didn't say anything.

Kon was like the cool brother that showed up to be your partner in crime then dipped.

He didn't live on the farm, he had told you he was roommates with afew of his friends.

Like one of those early 2000's sitcoms.

Clark did his absolute best to be the father figure you'd never actually had.

He helped with your schoolwork, encouraged your hobbies and was overjoyed to give you advice when you asked.

For such a big guy, it was certainly decieving.

He was like tne sweetest person you'd ever met, and even taught you how to do things like crochet and bake.

Lois is a powerhouse of a mother.

If you have any problems in school she's on it before it can become an issue.

Bullying? Dealt with.

Bad grades? What's the problem, sweety?

And as you started to get more... comfortable in your new home, you noticed that there were some odd things about your new family.

Regular everyday things resulted in broken items.

Wether it was Clark breaking a glass,

Jon breaking the handle on the barns sliding door,

Even Kon accidentally broke the faucet when he visited.

Speaking of Kon.

He sure visits alot for someone who lives out of state.

Huh.

He must be spending a whole lot on plane tickets.

And the whole family was weirdly aware of like- everything.

The only way you could logically explain it was that it's because Lois and Clark are reporters?

But, like, that also doesn't make sense?

How did Clark know you were in the kitchen at like 2am? His and Lois' room was upstairs all the way down the hall.

No way he heard you.

Not to mention the weird amount of "work calls" he had to run off to.

And Jon had a strange amount of school field trips.

Something was up with your new family.

And maybe it was time to delve into the family buisness.

Reporters uncovered secrets afterall.

And this family had a lot of them.

@zeep-wuz-here I did the thing... (>_<)

Reader is gonna do some snooping uh-huh. Mini reporter in the making digging up the ✨️secrets✨️

[kikidoesfanfic]

Run away with me

For the prompt 'go, see if I care' for @steddieangstyaugust some misunderstandings and making up, feat. Wayne Munson, local voice of reason/mediator.

ON AO3

-----

It was regular Thursday when Eddie got the news that Corroded Coffin had been picked up by a producer. And Steve was excited for him, over the moon even, but it's only been three days since then and everything's changed.

He's still happy for Eddie, he is, he just assumed... well he shouldn't have assumed, is the thing.

They'd been packing, ready to move into an apartment they'd found in Indie, Robin getting ready for her first year of college with Steve and Eddie trailing behind. They were looking to get out of town anyway, wanted to stay close enough for the kids, but to still be out, and they were days away from leaving. Pivoting to Chicago wasn't that much work, they hadn't signed for the apartment yet, and Robin understood. Robin pushed him to go in fact, she'd be in a dorm room for the first year, and 'Chicago is barely a three hour drive away Dingus so you both better visit'.

He thought- it doesn't matter what he thought, apparently.

"And anyway the only place we could find on such short notice only has two bedrooms, so I'm bunking with Jeff." Steve pauses, marker in hand hovering above cardboard where he'd been about to label their kitchen things, a mismash of items donated by their little Upside Down family. "But, the walk to the studio is really short, and there's a lot of bars and venues really close to the apartment, and it has a parking space, so it could be worse."

"Wait go back, you're bunking with Jeff?"

"Well yeah, Gareth snores like a chainsaw and Frank sleeps like a log, so it makes sense to stick them in the same room so Jeff and I don't lose our minds." Eddie is a picture of nonchalance, not even looking at Steve.

"Right," Steve says, capping the marker, "because that makes sense."

"Yeah, and Jeff's parents have given him a little cash for furniture and stuff, and Gareth's mom wants to drive up with a moving van since mine will be full of all the band stuff and mine." Eddie says, and he's so happy, and Steve wants him to be happy, he does, so instead of voicing any of the questions he feels practically clogging up his lungs he says:

"Sounds like you have it all figured out."

And Eddie smiles big and bright and seemingly oblivious to anything Steve is thinking, perhaps hadn't given Steve a second thought at all when faced with his dream job. He uncaps the marker again, starts writing kitchen in big wobbly letters when his stupid hand won't cooperate and keep still.

"Oh hey can we have some of the kitchen stuff? I don't want to make the boys get everything for the new place, you know?" Eddie says, offhanded and flicking the cardboard flap on his way past to the couch, flopping down on it in the picture of ease.

"Sure, do what you want," Steve says, and he can hear how tight his voice has gotten, Eddie must be able to as well because he sits up from his lazy sprawl on the couch to look at him closer. Steve doesn't want to be looked at closer. He needs to get out for a while, go calm down so he can come back and be a supportive... is he even Eddie's boyfriend any more? Just a friend? Eddie sure as hell hasn't mentioned even visiting after apparently deciding he's leaving Steve behind, so maybe this is his way of getting a clean break. "I need to..."

Where was he even going to go? He's been living in the trailer with Eddie and Wayne since just after Eddie graduated, all his stuff is either here or in boxes in the Henderson's garage waiting to be driven to fucking Chicago.

"I have some stuff to drop at Robin's, I'll be back later." Steve walks out, gets in his car and drives away before Eddie can question that Robin isn't even home right now, off with her parents at her aunt's place for a last big family dinner before she leaves.

He doesn't know where to go. It's not like he can take this to any of the kids, Robin isn't here, maybe he should just get some of his boxes from the Henderson's and drive up to Indie alone like Eddie was going to just drive off alone to Chicago. But that's stupid, because even if he did drive up to Indie, signed for the apartment, moved his boxes in, it's not like he could afford the place alone.

Which just. Did Eddie even think of him at all? He knew they could only afford the place together, didn't even ask if Steve found a new place or, or if Steve had any plans.

Steve pulls over when the road gets fuzzy and he realises he's crying.

***

"Where were you?" Eddie asks as soon as he's back through the door.

"I went for a drive"

"Why?" Eddie asks, and Steve can't look at him.

"I needed to think"

"And you couldn't do that here?"

"No."

"No?"

"No." A pregnant pause follows, where Eddie just stares at him.

"Is this about Chicago?" Eddie says and something in Steve just. Snaps.

"Fuck Eddie, of course it's about Chicago!"

"Well sorry if that wasn't the first thing to come to mind, I thought you were happy for me!" Eddie says, immediately matching his energy.

"I was. Am."

"You said was. What changed then?"

"Just, did you consider me at all? Even a little bit?" And it hurts to ask, because Steve desperately wants the answer to be yes, but with all the evidence in front of him...

"Of course I did, but this is my dream Steve, for me and the guys, this is our big break." And that's- Steve can be okay with that, he wants Eddie to achieve his dreams, that was never in question, but.

"What did you think I was going to do, then? You haven't even asked." It comes out more wounded than Steve wants it to.

"I asked if you could take care of the apartment and you said yes!" Eddie sounds exasperated, looks it too when Steve meets his eye instead of some vague point over his shoulder.

"Yeah because I thought you meant- you know what fuck this, I can't do this."

"Can't do what?"

"This," he gestures between them, "the fighting, because you don't care, and I'm done sticking around where I'm not wanted."

"Oh my god Steve nobody said you were unwanted. Just because I didn't turn down the opportunity of a lifetime for a relationship that hasn't even made it to a full year? What exactly is there to think about?"

"You know what, Eddie? Screw you, go, see if I care!" Steve wrenches open the trailer door hell bent on getting the fuck out of there before he embarrasses himself any more than he already has, but his path is short lived.

"What is all the yellin?" Wayne says, stepping into the doorway and effectively blocking Steve's exit. "I can hear the two of you goin at it from the drive."

"Oh it's nothing Wayne, Steve's apparently been lying about being happy for me, about going to Chicago." Eddie chirps, and Steve rounds on him, angrily swiping the tears off his face because no. He's not making this Steve's fault.

"That is not what I said."

"You may as well have!" Eddie shouts, and Steve is about ready to shove past Wayne manners be damned because he wants to be anywhere but here right now.

"Alright, that's enough, the both of you. Sit." He puts a hand on Steve's shoulder, pushes him toward one of the dining chairs and points at the couch until Eddie sits back down. There's a loaded silence while Wayne scratches at his chin, thinking.

"You've been excited about Chicago all week, even when Eddie wasn't here to see it, what changed?"

"Found out today I have no reason to be." Steve says, and he knows he's being stubborn but god if he isn't feeling like he has the right to.

"Oh except for your boyfriend living his dream or doesn't that matter? I-"

"Edward Munson you get your ass back in that seat and your mouth buttoned." Eddie wisely sits.

"Why've you got no reason to be?" Wayne asks Steve

"Because Eddie is going to Chicago." Wayne nods but it's slow, eyes narrowing.

"Gonna need a bit more there, son." It's the 'son' that does it, makes Steve's lip quiver before he gets control of the traitorous thing.

"Eddie's going to Chicago, he asked for some of the kitchen things, he's sharing a room with Jeff and an apartment with the guys."

"Ah. An' where are you supposed to sleep?"

"Indie. Apparently."

"But I didn't-" all it takes for Eddie to cut himself off is Wayne holding up a hand.

"You'll get your turn in a minute, kid," Wayne says, placating. "Now, did you not talk about Chicago?"

"He asked me to take care of the apartment, I thought he meant talk to the landlord and tell them we weren't coming. He knows I couldn't afford the place alone, he heard Robin say we both better visit, he just. He didn't even consider me going with him and that's worse. He didn't ask what I was gonna do even thinking I wasn't going, didn't even think... he just said that he doesn't need to think about a relationship that hasn't made it to a year when he's making decisions." He breathes out a hastily measured breath, "so what am I even doing here? Take the kitchen stuff Eddie, take all of it for all I care I'm-"

"Okay, alright, let's simmer down." Steve nods, resigned, and slumps back in the dining chair. "Ed, you wanna tell me what's goin on?"

"How was I supposed to know he'd want to come to Chicago? He never said anything-

"Because I'm your bo-"

"Hey now, he let you speak, you let him speak." Steve huffs out another sigh but doesn't interrupt again, his arms come up to cross over his chest, instead ending up somewhere around hugging himself.

"He never said anything about coming with me, how was I supposed to know he wanted to? Robin is in Indianapolis." He runs a hand through his hair, looks over at Steve, "was I supposed to just assume you were coming with me?"

Wayne gestures at Steve and then steps off into the kitchen, grabbing down mugs and setting up the coffee machine, leaving them to it.

"Considering you knew I was going to stay in Hawkins if you did, in the first place? Yeah Eddie, kinda thought you would."

"Well... I didn't think of that."

"Yeah. There's a lot you didn't think of. Look, it's fine, and I am happy for you. I just thought when you saw your future with your dream career and whatever I was still in it."

"You are, of course I want you to come with me!" Eddie says, standing and taking a few steps closer.

"Then why didn't you say that? Plan for it at all?" Steve throws back with a burst of movement as he gets to his feet as well.

"I thought you WANTED to stay with ROBIN!"

"Well I WANTED to stay with YOU!"

"GOOD, THEN DO IT!"

"MAYBE I WILL!" Their chests are heaving as they both stand across from each other, table still between them, Eddie's eyes dart down to Steve's lips, so Steve wets them with a quick swipe of his tongue.

"I'm gonna go ahead an' guess you don't need me anymore, so I'm gonna take a shower. You kids get all your business out while I'm in there."

"Yessir," Eddie says with a salute, not taking heated eyes off of Steve.

They still need to talk, but after feeling pretty insecure about their relationship Steve isn't going to say no to a little physical reassurance, lets Eddie pull him closer by the hands.

But instead Eddie surprises him, a quick peck to the lips is all he gets before their foreheads are resting together, hands swinging back and forth either side of them.

"I'm sorry, we should have talked about it, I was just worried that you wouldn't want to come and didn't want to hear you say it. Or worse for you to come and then resent me for it. It won't happen again." Eddie's big bambi eyes are wide and imploring, close to Steve as he is, and it's really rather unfair. "And I'm sorry about what I said, I was just..."

"Defensive," Steve supplies.

"Yeah, that. I... panicked. A little. You're pretty much all I think about Stevie." Steve kisses him for that, has to, really, before pulling back.

"I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have assumed you'd know I would go with you, I'll say it with words next time. Right away."

"So you'll come? It'll be a bit cramped until we can find our own place, you'll have to share with me and the guys."

"Of course I still want to come, if you want me to?"

"I just asked if you wou-"

"Sorry, sorry, I'm just being," Steve shakes their hands where they're still joined at their sides.

"Steve, come with me to Chicago, run away with me, please?"

"I'd come with you anywhere," Steve says, sincere, and Eddie's face contorts and smooths a few times. Steve sighs for what feels like the hundredth time today but at least this time it's more fond, "Eddie."

"Oh come on, you walked right into that one, you'll come with me anywhere?" He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"Anywhere except for in a room shared with Jeff, yeah." Steve kisses him on the tip of his nose, pulling away to go pour their coffee.

"Hey wait, no, I think we need our own room actually. Who's Jeff? A band? What's a guitar?" As Eddie continues, his laments getting more and more ridiculous while he drapes himself over the kitchen counter, Steve brings up his mug to hide his smile.

Yeah sometimes he and Eddie are idiots about this stuff, but it's okay with him as long as they're idiots in it together.

[twice-inamillion]

The Company

Newest Recruit 

Story Building and Fluff

Chapter 8

3,160 Words

(You and Mina’s family have a talk about her enjoying the company. Jessica goes to America to buy her new home. A new set of trainees arrive to the company from a different company.)

After talking to Mina and the choreographer, you ask them for an appointment to talk to her parents. Mina agrees and calls her mom to see when the best time to talk to them both. 

You return to your hotel and talk to your assistants about recruiting her into the company. As you’re going over some possible offers, you can make you receive a phone call from the choreographer telling you that Mina and her family can meet tomorrow evening. I am glad about the rapid response and that you prepared everything for your meeting.

It’s the following day, and you’re standing in front of her house and ringing the doorbell. It doesn’t take too long for the door to open, and you see an older female, assuming to be the mother. “Good evening; you must be here because of Mina, correct?”

“Yes. Thank you for inviting me to your home.”

“Come, take a seat. I’ll call Mina and her father over.”

“Thank you,” walking to the living room and sitting on the couch.”

You see Mina walking down the stairs to the living room, “Good evening,” she shyly waved her hand. She sits on the couch across from you and waits for both her parents to arrive. 

From the kitchen, Mina’s parents and the choreographer walk to the living room with drinks and snacks.

“Sorry for the wait; we wanted to bring snacks for us to enjoy.”

Once everyone is seated, you introduce yourself as the CEO of Olympus Entertainment, surprising everyone. Knowing some information about the company, the choreographer briefs the parents on the benefits offered to the trainees and the education they get.

Both the parents smile when they hear about the great benefits offered and the chance to finish their education, unlike other companies.

“We like that your company allows them to finish their studies. We want Mina to finish her schooling if possible,” says Mina’s dad.

“Yes, we understand that joining the entertainment business isn’t what some parents see as an ideal job. Here, out of our company, we want everyone to receive higher education in case the trainees decide to change their career path. We also allow them to gain experience in the field by applying to be staff in our company.”

Her parents seem a bit more comfortable hearing that there is a backup plan just in case she doesn’t want to continue. You go over on why you want Mina in your company and what you are willing to offer. 

“I’m glad you think highly of our daughter and her talents. She’s been a good girl, and we think she should make this decision on her l own,” says Mina’s mom. 

Mina shyly speaks up, “I want to go. I’m a bit nervous, but I think it’d be nice to meet other people who enjoy dancing.” 

“Are you sure, Mina?” asks her dad.

“Yes, Ceo-nim complimented my dancing a lot, so I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Her mom then asks, “Okay, then it’s decided. Please take care of our daughter and her future.”

“I will.”

Mina and her parents sign the contract. You congratulate both of them and assure them they won’t regret it. 

“Do you need her to fly to Korea now?”

Take care of your schooling and enjoy a small break. I’ll personally come and you all to the company and give you a tour and see our facilities.”

As you’re about to leave, Mina walks up and grabs the edge of your jacket, “CEO-nim, I won’t disappoint you,” as she plays with her fingers.

——————

It’s been a few days after signing Mina to your label, and you have been preparing for her arrival. During the week, you also had Jessica living with you after collecting her items from her apartment. She tells you about her plan to return to America and set up her own fashion brand. 

During her stay at your place, Jessica has looked online for possible houses to buy during her stay back in San Francisco. “What do you think about this one?” she asks. 

“That one looks nice; it has a nice backyard, and it's not directly in the middle of the city.”

“I like this one too, but it seems busy.”

“You said you want to relax, so maybe something where there are not too many tourists.”

“It has been nice to see them in person.”

“If you want, I can schedule a few open houses; I’m almost done with what I have to do.”

“But how are we going to get there without getting noticed? I don’t want the public to see me like this.”

“We can take my plane there.” 

“You got a plane?”

“Yes, I don’t want to go through the hassle of chartering a plane, so I just bought one myself.”

You arrive in San Francisco two days later and go to multiple open houses. Most of these homes are in the millions, but you’re willing to spend that much for your child. After a few days of looking, Jessica makes up her mind, and you sign a contract to purchase the house. The both of you stopped by her parents' house to drop off some items before heading back to Korea. Jessica is about to open the door when you hear, “Jessica, is that you?” Out comes a younger version of her, her sister. She looks at you in annoyance and says, “Is that the guy that knocked you up?”

Jessica reacts and smacks her, “Shut up!” The sister runs back inside as Jessica tries to hit her again but fails. “Sorry for the rude girl over there, but that is my younger sister, Krystal.” You try to introduce yourself to her sister, but she ignores you. 

“So, I heard from Mom and Dad that you bought a house nearby.”

“Actually, he bought the house,” she said as she looked in my direction.

“Hmph… that’s the least he could do after getting you pregnant and causing you to get kicked out.”

“Krystal, be quiet.”

“But it’s true. He was the cause for everything.”

“It’s partially my fault, too, not just his.”

The two of them continue to discuss with each other, and you say, “I’m going to be heading back to the airport. I’ll be back to help you move in. Also, send me the information on the fashion line.” Jessica turns around and kisses you on the cheek before you head out. 

————-

A bit over a week has passed, and you are headed to Japan to pick up Mina and her parents. 

They board the plane, and during the flight, you give them the rundown of what they will see during their stay in Korea. 

“After arriving, we can have lunch and tour the campus. I will lead the tour while your items are taken to the hotel I reserved for you during your stay. The second day would be reviewing some fine details about Mina’s stay and looking at the dorms she would be staying in. You then have the next few days to tour around and do as you wish, and the company will pay for it.”

“Ceo-nim, you don’t have to do that,” says Mina’s mom.

“I want to. Mina is the first idol I personally recruited, making it a special moment. Plus, your daughter has a lot of talent, so it would be rude of me not to respond in kindness.”

Mina and Mina’s mom smile while her dad agrees that his daughter is worthy of such consideration.

You all arrive at the company and walk into the main building. You take them through the meeting room, cafeteria, and main practice rooms. The next stop is the education center, where most trainees have classes to finish their education, take extracurricular activities, or want to study. 

The last place is the large building where I have practice rooms for small to large groups or for individual practice. “The place is so big and new,” says Mina’s mom. 

“We want all our trainees and idols with the opportunity to succeed, so we provide them with the best, anywhere from education to mental health.” 

“What about security, like the safety of the trainees and idols?” asks dad.

“The campus is normally closed to the public. Most areas require a security clearance based on the position you have in the company. For example, we separate the trainees and idols to prevent any potential conflict, such as education builds and dorms. Since most of them have a regular schedule, we tend to know where they are at. If there are any irregularities, we use these bracelets to know where they last were since they are used to access building doors.” 

“What about if they get sick? How do they get treatment?” asks Mina’s mom. 

“We do have a health center that can deal with common issues and is planning to build an in-house hospital for all company employees, trainees, and idols.”

“Seems like you all have things figured out,” says Mina’s dad. 

“We want to ensure the safety of everyone here and make it as easy for them to concentrate on their goals. 

After the tour, all of you go out to dinner before calling it a night. “I’ll leave you all for the night and see you early in the morning. You’ll get to experience our cafeteria and see the dorms.”

————-

Early in the morning, you meet Mina and her parents outside the cafeteria. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Ceo-nim.”

“How was your sleep?”

“It was great; the beds were really comfortable.”

“That’s good to hear. We use the same mattress for our dorms here.” 

“You hear that, Mina. Make sure not to sleep in too much,” says her dad.

“Otōsan… not in front of the Ceo,” whines Mina and covers her embarrassed face.

“It’s fine; I sometimes enjoy a good rest.”

The four of you head to the cafeteria. Mina is surprised by the number of food options that the area offers. “We offer meals three times a day and have cafes and small shops throughout the campus. You can even order a custom meal if given prior notice.”

Mina walks to the line, gets various dishes, and walks out of the line with a gummy smile. 

“Seems like our daughter is going to get accustomed to here in no time,” says Dad in a joking manner.

We all laugh, and Mina turns red again from her dad teasing her. We continue to have breakfast. When we are done, we head out to the dorms where she will stay. 

“The dorms are not that far away but separate from the rest of the campus. We have multiple types of dorms for those who are over of age and who are not. We keep them separate since they have different schedules and rules. Once placed in a group, you are moved to a large dorm based on the number of people within the group. They have a kitchen and more space to get to know each other better and build relationships.”

“So does that mean I get to room with another person?”

“We actually have a room available that is meant for two, but you’ll be using it on your own. Obviously, when we get more trainees, we will pair you up with someone who has similar interests.”

As we walk down the road to the dorms, her parents are amazed by how well-maintained they look. Mina cannot help but comment on how they look like college dorms and is excited to see her own dorm. “Is this my dorm?”

“Actually, yes. The one on the left.” 

You take out your phone and call the dorm manager. She came outside and introduced herself as the one in charge of managing the building and dorm RA. 

She leads the group to the second floor of the building and into the unoccupied wing. “You won't be in this wing, but we are going to use it as an example. Here are the shared bathrooms with multiple stalls and showers cleaned frequently. You are all divided in wings so there are not many who use the bathrooms. There are also individual restrooms throughout the building.”

She then walks to a room and opens it, “This is an example of a double room; there are two beds, a large closet for, and a table.” The parents walk around and seem to like the room, “it’s big. I think you’ll like Mina,” says her mom. “Next, we’ll see a triple room, and it’s much bigger than the double.” 

After the demonstration, the manager walks the group to the dorm that Mina will be occupying. “This will be your room, Mina. It’s a double, but you won't have a roommate as of now. We expect a new round of incoming trainees, so you might be paired up soon.”

“Look, Mina, it has a nice view,” says her dad. 

You comment, “I think you’ll like it. You are more than welcome to return tomorrow so you can help with the move-in process. Let’s return to my office and discuss some minor details.”

You are all in your office and take out two large folders, a copy for the parents and one for Mina. “These will be your copy of the contract, the expectations and the list of benefits, and some of the options we offer in extracurricular activities. Also, we don’t ask for any payment from the parents, and it's covered by us until they debut. After that, we do take out a share of what was invested for training.”

“That sounds more than reasonable; I heard of other companies asking for large amounts of money upfront,” says the dad.

“Yes, some do, but since we are a new company, we want to separate ourselves from them.”

As you and the parents talk, Mina looks at the extracurricular catalog and tries to decide on what she wants to join.

“Do you have an idea, sweetheart?” asks Mina’s mom.

“There are so many options, I can’t make up my mind.”

“It’s okay, Mina. Take your time; choose whenever you are ready.”

Her mom looks through the dance section and says, “I see you don’t offer Ballet.”

“Yes, unfortunately, we don’t have many trainees that practice. It was something that we wanted to have and actually have a room for it, but it's not completed.”

“What do you think, Mina? Do you still want to practice ballet?” asks her dad.

“I don’t know. I want to try other dances, but I also want to continue.”

“If you want, we can complete it for you. I would be more than happy to see you dance again.”

“See, Mina, the CEO himself said that we want to see you dance and is willing to finish its construction just for you,” says her dad.

You see, Mina thinks about it and fiddles with her fingers, “Do you really like my dancing, Ceo-nim?”

“Yes, I really did.”

“Umm… if you like it, then I’ll be more than happy to continue.”

“Aww, sweetie, that’s good to hear,” says her mom. 

“That would be amazing, Mina. Then, I’ll make sure we finish the construction of the studio. You’ll be our first user so it would be like your personal dance studio, haha,.”

“See, Mina, your own studio,” says her mom.

“Thank you so much; I’ll try to live up to your expectations of me,” says Mina shyly.

After that conversation, a member of the trainee team came in and explained the clearance system and the bracelet that Mina would be wearing. This will give her access to her room and other facilities. “We have your information in our system. This bracelet serves as a smartwatch and access key to your room, the buildings you are cleared for, your health profile for the health center, and the cafeteria.”

Mina confirms her information, and the bracelet activates. The team member puts on her bracelet and shows her how it works and what type of data it shows on our end. “This information is kept on our private servers and are not shared anywhere. So when you scan it in a certain location, it only shows based information and nothing else. Try using it here.” 

The screen shows Mina’s basic information as a trainee and a picture. “Okay, it seems like you’re all ready to move in.”

————— 

It’s been a few weeks since Mina moved into the dorms, and she’s been slowly adjusting to her new environment. You call her a few times a week to ask how she is doing or if she needs anything. Like always, she’s shy and soft-spoken. 

Today, you called her to your office to give her some news that will affect her position as a trainee. “Good morning, CEO-nim. I’m here because you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, good morning Mina. Come over and talk a seat.” 

“Is something the matter?”

“Yes. I have been in contact with JYP Entertainment, and we are going to collaborate. The company will receive a couple of its idols as part of an agreement. You will be placed together with them since you’re one of the newest trainees.”

“Do you know how many trainees will be coming over?”

“There will be fifteen others; some of them have trainees for a long time while others have just a few years.”

“Does that mean I'll be getting a roommate?”

“Yes, they should be arriving within a week, so try to make them feel comfortable.”

————-

“I hope you treat my trainees well,” says Park Jin-young.

“Don’t worry. They’re going to enjoy their time here.”

“I hope so.”

You then step forward and introduce yourself, “Hello, everyone. Welcome to Olympus Entertainment. I hope you enjoy your time here and build friendships with those around you.”

All the trainees from JYP, in unison, stand up and say, “Thank you for having us, CEO.”

“All of you already know why you’re here, but, as a formality, introduce yourselves.

“Hello, my name is Im Na-yeon.”

“Hello, my name is Yoo Jeong-yeon.”

“Hello, my name is Hirai Momo.”

“Hello, my name is Minatozaki Sana.”

“Hello, my name is Park Ji-hyo.”

“Hello, my name is Myoi Mina.”

“Hello, my name is Song Min-young.”

“Hello, my name is Park Ji-won.

“Hello, my name is Kim Da-hyun.”

“Hello, my name is Son Chae-young.”

“Hello, my name is Chou Tzu-yu.”

“Hello, my name is Lee Chae-yeon.”

“Hello, my name is Kim Eun-suh.”

“Hello, my name is Jeon So-mi.”

“Hello, my name is Lee Chae-ryeong.”

“Hello, my name is Natty.”

“Welcome once again, all sixteen of you.”

[syneilesis]

[fic] Coffee Break

Coffee Break

Love and Deepspace | Xavier (Shen Xinghui) x Main-Character!Reader | G | 1.2k words ao3 link

You buy Xavier a new coffee machine.

A/N: I am so in love with this man. Day 2 of the closed beta test and here I am writing fic lmao. God, I love Shen Xinghui so much. This fic is inspired by his Shimmering Sunlight story. Some spoilers about the main storyline and character-exclusive stories, though nothing too significant. Though I frequently refer to his CN name in my other posts, in this fic I use his EN version -- Xavier.

The box is light in your hands, but the salesperson assured you that weight does not equate to quality. Price, too—because although the Hunters Association is generous with their pay, you don't want to raise flags by taking missions incessantly. Tara's nose for intrigue, of course, is well-known among your circles.

It would be all the worse if Xavier gets in on the gossip too. (You'd have to thank the stars for the man's indifference to workplace drama—and to most in general. Xavier may be airheaded at times but when he's focused on something he is monstrously focused on it. It's impressive, and—well—cute.)

The recommended beans are secured inside your messenger bag. You don't call Xavier this time to give him a heads up. He had, a few days ago, granted you the privilege to enter his home whenever you like, his hand tracing the book spines on the shelf, all the while saying it. He wasn't looking at you, but his tone remained light, playful even, that it prompted you to tease him by pointing out that if he merely wanted an efficient alarm clock, he could just buy one of those state-of-the-art ones sold in major stores. That's when Xavier whirled around to look at you, mirth in his eyes but with a secretive, scheming tilt on his lips.

“I'm coming in,” you announce, regardless, by the door, pushing it in with one hand, and Xavier's voice floats across the hall.

“You're really taking advantage of this, huh.”

“Well, a wise man once said that one must seize every opportunity given their way.”

Xavier emerges from a room in all his cardigan-and-sweatpantsed glory, hair mussed enough to indicate that he's just risen from his bed.

“Good morning!” you chirp.

He glances at the clock—two in the afternoon—and eyes the box in your hands. The caution—and curiosity—is obvious in the lilt of his question. “What's that?”

“For you.”

He takes the proffered item and inspects like it'll explode at any moment. You sigh and retrieve it again, and he follows you when you make your way to the kitchen.

“I already have a coffee machine,” he says, confused, as you begin to clean the gift.

“And it brews bitter coffee.” You spare a glance at him to find that he's watching you. You tap the lid of the machine. “This is a more recent and an undeniably better model.”

“I don't recall asking you to buy one for me.”

“That's because you didn't.” There's a pause where you deliberate telling him your next sentence and facing him directly as you say it. You go for it, in the end. “It's a gift. This is a gift from me to you.”

It doesn't register to him at first—it's as if he's waiting for an explanation that requires the mention of Captain Jenna's orders. But after a blink and a shuffle, it clicks, his eyes widening and he's fully awake all of a sudden.

And when he responds, it seems urgent: “What's the occasion?”

You shake your head. “Nothing—or rather, it's the occasion for drinking good coffee.” The coffee beans make their appearance. “Go sit on the sofa or something while I work this thing out.”

Xavier chuckles. “What—now you're ordering me in my own home?”

“And making you good coffee!”

“You're a guest—even I know that it's rude to have the guest make food or drinks for the owner of the house.”

“It's fine! And besides, I'd like to test this out as soon as possible. Refund and exchange policy only lasts for seven days from the date of purchase. I'd want to know if this works just fine.”

Xavier attempts to protest a little more, but you hold firm. Once he trudges back to the living room, you concentrate on the coffee. The salesperson seemed trustworthy enough when pitching the product, and you really can't forget the time Xavier served you a cup of bitter coffee. Not even three sugar cubes could salvage that unholy concoction.

When it's done, the heavenly aroma wafting along your nose, you test a sip from your own mug. It's a success. Placing the mugs on a tray, you head to where Xavier is.

He's reading a book. Though 'reading' seems to be a stretch because his head bobs twice, his eyelids drooping, the edge of a nap threatening his posture.

“Xavier,” you call him, and his head snaps back to attention. You bite your lip to stave off a laugh. Sitting next to him on the sofa, you put the tray on the table and hand him his own cup. “Try this one.”

A sniff and a tentative sip. And then he hums in approval, now drinking it normally. You smile around the rim of your mug, your eyes falling on his book.

“This is good,” he comments, wearing a smile of his own when he turns to you. “Did you use another kind of coffee beans?”

“Yep. The salesman recommended me another one, and it was the right decision. By the way, why are you reading an instruction manual on building a claw machine?”

“It's nothing,” he says, swiping the item away. There's another book on the table—a collection of short stories—and he snatches that up instead. You recognize the title.

“Oh! I've read that before.”

“Is it good? I haven't read it yet.”

“Yes. I particularly loved the titular story. The suspense buildup was done skillfully and the payoff was perfect.”

“I see, then I look forward to starting it.”

Surprisingly, Xavier begins reading it then and there, occasionally sipping his coffee and turning the page. You, beside him, are minding your own cup, thoughts drifting here and there. Your next mission. New strategies in battle. Your next appointment with Dr. Zayne.

It's when a weight has plopped down your shoulder that you jolt out of your musings: Xavier falling asleep on your shoulder, mug empty, the coffee residues pooling at the bottom, book opened in the chapter of your favorite story.

“Xavier?” you murmur, careful not to startle him if he's truly asleep.

He doesn't stir—only burrows further into the crevice between your neck and shoulder, the puffs of his breath close and warm against your skin.

It would've been cruel to push him away, not when he looks comfortable. And besides, you're afforded an opportunity to study him—so you let him as he is.

From your angle, staring down at his sleeping face, you note of his eyelashes, long and thick and seemingly soft, slightly curved upwards, hovering over his smooth cheeks. They frame the blueness of his eyes very well. They make him even prettier under daylight. You're reminded of the time you and he strolled under the blooming peach blossoms, the pink backdrop highlighting the radiance of his presence, statuesque. He as sublime art itself, rivaling that of Rafayel's paintings—or better yet, surpassing them. And when he smiles—

Unbidden, heat crawls across your cheeks and settles there. Oh no. Oh, no no no.

Oh dear, this won't do.

You swallow, and turn away. Against your neck, Xavier sleeps on, unaware of your unfurling realizations. By the window, a familiar bird perches, twittering under the afternoon sun, a small but melodious background song.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lost 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss, grieving, death, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: nomad!Steve Rogers

Summary: You move into a shared flat and encounter a mysterious man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“And this is your room,” Muriel stops before a door along the short hallway. “You have a neighbour just across the hall, and two more on the other side of the kitchen.”

You nod. It isn’t an ideal situation. Not one you ever saw yourself in. But survival isn’t built for the fussy. There are many others like you. Those not so lucky, those who are dead. Many who never got the choice of a new home.

You keep your hand on your rolling bag, your other on your canvas knapsack. They’re full of items that aren’t your own. Second-hand clothes acquired from shelters and toiletries given out by the support workers. You’re on your own now.

“Anything else, dear?” Muriel asks to your silence.

“Thank you, Muriel,” you murmur.

She hands you the key and leaves. Before showing you your own space, she took you around those shared by the rest of her boarders. You suppose they’re your roommates now. A kitchen, two bathrooms, a front room with a tattered couch and old tube television. You’ll stick to your own four walls.

You slide the key in the slot, the metal grinding loudly. You hear a throat clear and peer towards the noise. The walls must be thin. You’re still alone. You let yourself into the room, pulling the door shut behind you. You flip the lock back into place before you shove your bags by the wall.

There’s a twin bed with a metal frame, a single night table, and a standing lamp. There’s also a shallow closet. It’s not much but you don’t need more than that. It’s good to have a roof over your head.

You sit on the lumpy mattress and the frame squeaks loudly. You stand up again and pace around. There isn’t too much room. It shouldn’t matter, you won’t need it. You’ll be out working and back to sleep again. You start tomorrow at the convenience shop.

You hear a thump and your head pops up. You can’t help but jump in your shoes. Ever since the city rained down around you, every bump, every sudden noise has you skittish. It’s nothing, only another boarder.

You go to your bag and unbuckle the flap. You pull out a can of beans and the pocket knife in the side pocket. You go back to the bed and sit, another shrill whine from the metal frame. You pull out the can open from the pocket knife and peel back the lid. On the same keychain is a small metal spork you use to scoop out the beans, eating them cold as your stomach growls hungrily.

You eat, bite by bite, staring at the wall, just beside the only window. It isn’t home. You don’t expect one of those. It’s just a place to live. To survive.

🚪

You take your toothbrush and your tube of toothpaste with you to the bathroom down the hall. It’s just across from the other bedroom on that side of the flat. The doorway is dark, beckoning you inside. You flip on the light and shut the door as you enter.

You turn on the tap and set to brushing your teeth. Such a basic and simple task but one you didn’t always have the chance to do. It’s almost soothing to feel the bristles in your mouth. It makes you feel almost normal.

You take your time as the mint flavour sticks to your tongue. You rinse your brush and flick off the excess water, sliding it back into the travel tube and capping the paste. You look at yourself in the mirror, not for long, just to make sure you still recognise you.

You clutch your things in one hand and flick the light off. You open the door and nearly shriek at the shadow waiting in the hall. You waver in the doorway as a tiny wisp escapes your throat. You blink as the dark silhouette stands with arms crossed in the dim hall.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” the man says gruffly.

He's tall but mostly obscured. His hair wings out around his neck and his shoulders bulge broadly. You feel his eyes boring into you, as he can see through the darkness and you.

You dip your chin and sidle out, keeping your distance as you sidestep along the wall. You should apologise but your voice is buried deep down. You put your hand up in a show of deference.

“You done?” He asks.

You pause and look at the plaster across from you. You nod then turn your back to him completely. He must be the neighbour. You quickly shuffle to your room and hide behind the door. It’s much better than the shelter, you don’t have someone rolling into your sleeping bag, but still, you’re claustrophobic.

You mourn that most. The sense of privacy. Of personal space. Have a place that’s your own with people you know. People you love.

You toss your toothbrush and toothpaste onto the night table and huff as you sit on the bed. You frown and push your head back, trying to soothe the tightness between your shoulders. You blow out, breath rattling as your nose tingles.

You can never go back to Sokovia or how it was. You can only go forward and the road ahead is very lonely.

[astaroth1357]

Oh God, What Have We Done??: Father!Belphegor Headcanons

You know, I was going to write this for Simeon, and I still might, but Belphie lost the Dad poll and I must right an injustice when I see one.

Content: Somehow incredibly fluffy with Big Happy Family vibes; mostly meme fodder

~♡♡♡~

I refuse to believe this could have been planned. No person in their right mind is going to look at Belphie and go, "Oh yeah. That's some real good father material right there!" Belphegor wouldn't even say that to himself.

Either a condom broke, a pill was skipped, or some orphaned demon child imprinted on these two like a baby duck and followed them home. Either way, NO ONE wanted this, but it's happening.

Belphegor's reaction to realizing that he's a Dad:

Everyone else's reaction to realizing Belphegor is a Dad:

Beel's reaction to realizing that he is an Uncle:

But seriously though, Beel is the only one with any kind of unwavering faith that his twin can pull this off. Never doubts him for a second and never will.

Everybody else though....? Well. Satan is already cleaning out the local libraries of their parenting books, Asmo's searching Mommy blogs, and Lucifer keeps staring off into the middle distance like he's questioning every single life decision that has brought them to this point. Fear is rampant, despair is on high.

The biggest worry is that Belphegor is going to leave MC more or less high and dry. He's not exactly known to be a "go-getter" when times are tough and though he has his soft side, sure, no one would call it particularly "nurturing."

Diavolo and Barbs weren't even sure if they should announce the news to the realm. Of course one of the Lords of the Hell having an offspring is a pretty big deal but under these circumstances...

What if it was treated like a joke by the populous? Painting a target for ridicule on Belphie and MC's backs had to be the LAST thing anybody wanted...

Even Belphegor, in a pretty heartbreaking moment of self-reflection, tried to convince Beel to take over for him instead. Not to shirk the responsibility, but out of pure acknowledgement that he would make the better father between them...

Beel, of course, was not having this for a second. And you know what? Everyone would do well to listen to the wisdom of Beel! Because he knew instinctively something that everyone else had conveniently forgotten-

No matter the circumstances, Belphie's kid was a part of the family. And that meant that they, the MC, and even Belphie himself were never going to be doing this alone.

And that fact was proven quickly enough when every member of the family, extended or otherwise, stepped up to lend a hand.

Levi and Mammon took it on themselves to go out and buy whatever baby items they needed and seemingly came in every day with handfuls upon handfuls of bottles, baby gates, socket covers, and TOYS (literally so many toys. They bought more toys than diapers).

Lucifer and Asmo set to work on renovating a nursery/kid's room almost immediately. The eldest had the plans drafted within a week of the news while Asmo buried MC and Belphie in paint swatches and magazine catalogs for the walls and decor.

Satan roped Beel in to help him train Belphegor to be a little less lazy and more attentive to the MC and the baby. Even going so far as to curse a baby monitor to sound like fog horn to him and only him if the kid began to cry.

The angels chipped in with gifts and free offers to babysit (mostly from Simeon, but Luke is already eyeing the little one like a baby sibling and is protective as such).

Solomon uh... Well Solomon offered to cook MC whatever they wanted through the pregnancy at first, but when that got a HARD veto he switched to just giving HoL a touch of magic baby proofing. Nobody can figure out how to get under the kitchen sink anymore, but that means the baby won't either!

And, of course, despite Belphegor not liking him much, Diavolo is probably the BEST psudeo-uncle a kid could have. He's already sent Barbatos out to curate the best baby food and Lucifer is training him on how to hold infants properly so he can take turns being babysitter with Simeon.

As a father... Belphie isn't perfect. He did whine more than a few times about no longer being the "baby" everyone doted on. A couple times, he may even act just as childish as his kid...

But in the moments late at night when he's rocking them in his arms, dead tired from being awake for hours but determined to make sure they sleep first...

Or when he's walking around the House with them tucked to his chest because they'll never cry if he holds them.

How he pays attention to every little thing that interests them so he can craft each of their dreams more exciting than the last...

Or how he, more than any of the others, knows what a precious treasure it is to be with those you love since you never know when they'll be gone...

He'll do alright. With the love and support of everyone else, their child will have everything they need...

As long as they don't turn out as spoiled as he is 💀

[fckbatmanhiskidsareminenow]

What’s for Breakfast?

(yes it’s the parsnip fic)

(tw mentioned nightmares and mildly dissociation)

disclaimer: this will probably be ooc, i’m still extremely new to the fandom so be nice please

description: jason decides to cook and is interrupted by the rest of the bat siblings.

word count: 1556

All he came here to do was drop off some intel for Bruce but now? Now Jason is standing in the middle of the Wayne manor kitchen, with his hands on his hips, wondering what he should cook. He’s hungry, alright, sue him.

It’s Sunday and Sunday is the day Alfred restocks the kitchen so the chances of Jason actually finding something other than premade pancake mix was not great.

The first ingredient item he finds is a few parsnips. He passes one between his hands trying to think of what he can make with them. After a few seconds he comes up with something, tossing the parsnips onto the counter and he collects some onions, a leek, flour, eggs and vegetable oil. He gets the grater out and it’s decided. He’s gonna make parsnip and onion fritters.

Jason starts with slicing the onion. Just get that shit over and done with. The familiar burn of the onion begins in his eyes and he is immediately reminded of the last time he cooked in here. He was 15, it was a few weeks before his death. He and Alfred were making home made burgers, requested by Jason himself, and they made caramelised onions to go with it.

He’s pulled out of the memory by the wet feeling of tears dripping down onto his hand. He glares down at the vegetable as if it had personally wronged him. And you know what? It did. He’s crying all because of a fucking onion.

He continues slicing only slightly more aggressively when he hears a soft patter of feet.

“Todd?” At the sound of his name he looks up and is met with a sleepy Damian staring back. The kid’s got on a set of cat pyjamas, that Jason can admit is kinda cute, and is wiping away what looks to be tears. Must have had a nightmare or something.

“Cooking.” Jason replied gruffly. Damian approaches the island he’s cooking on and stands on his toes to try and see what Jason is cooking. Once again he can admit the kid looked kinda cute with only just his head and little hands poking over the bench.

“Cooking what?” He asks softly and with genuine childlike curiosity, which is rare for Damian. Jason breathes out a sigh and walks over to the small table on the far side of the kitchen and pulls a chair up against the bench.

“Parsnip and onion fritters. Wash your hands and come grate the parsnips for me.” He usually would tell him to fuck off but the kid looks like he could use a distraction and he does love a mission.

Damian washes his hands, climbs up the chair and starts grating.

They slice and grate mostly in quiet, only breaking the silence to quietly giggle at each other's onion induced tears.

“Cooking?” The sound of a voice startles them both so badly Damian almost throws a parsnip and Jason damn near cuts his finger off. When they look up at the source, Cass is standing there with an eyebrow raised.

“Christ, Cassandra, you could have killed us.” Damian says as he lowers the parsnip. Jason huffs out a laugh.

“Again.” He mutters and doesn’t miss the nasty look Damian throws him. Cass only smirks and shrugs. She looks dishevelled but Jason chooses to ignore it. She wanders over to the island, inspects what they’re doing before sitting on one of the stools and pulling her phone out of her pocket. Jason and Damian share a look before continuing what they were doing.

They finally get through all the slicing and grating when Steph and Tim stumble in looking like they had not slept all week. Jason stops what he’s doing just to look at them judgingly.

“Where the fuck have you two been?” he asks like he doesn’t want to know. Steph groans and collapses into the stool next to Cass.

“We were out all night for a stake out that turned up nothing.” Jason makes a confused face at that and looks to Tim who is all but dragging himself to the coffee machine.

“I don’t even want to talk about it.” He says holding a hand up to block out Jason’s judgmental look. Stake outs like that happen, not often but they happen. But for Tim? It’s even less often, he gathers all the intel he can before going out. Make sense for his mood to be shit.

Jason can practically sense Damian is about to say something so he scoops him up by the armpits and places him onto the ground.

“Your jobs done now.” He tells him before the kid can protest. He only receives a slightly grumpy nod before Damian drags the chair back to its regular spot and sits down. Tim looks away from the coffee machine.

“Are you making breakfast?” He asks half judgy half genuine. Jason almost responds with some snarky sarcasm but just looking at Tim tells him the poor guy's exhausted brain would probably melt if he did.

“Yeah I am. Parsnip and onion fritters.”

Steph lifts her head from where it was laying against the kitchen island.

“What the fuck is a parsnip?” Jason chuckles and holds up one of the unused parsnips.

“It's like a white carrot thing. They taste good, trust me.” Steph eyes it suspiciously before shrugging and laying her head back down.

Duke runs in while Jason is mixing in the flour and eggs. He stops and looks at everyone surprised. To Duke’s credit it is rare for all of them to be in the same room for a non vigilante related reason. He looks at Jason and into the bowl.

“Hey, that looks great! I’m heading out to patrol but save me some for when I get back?” He says as he grabs an apple and speeds out of the kitchen without waiting for an answer. Jason files the information to save some away in his head before he continues mixing. He makes sure everything is evenly coated before heating up a pan and drizzling some vegetable oil onto it. He places as many scoops as he can evenly spread on the pan and waits until he can flip them.

The sizzly of the fritters and the oil almost covers up the sound of a new pair of feet entering the kitchen.

“Whatchya making, Jaybird?” This time he doesn’t jump at the sound of Dick’s voice coming from directly over his shoulder. Just by looking at Dick’s eyes tells Jason the eldest is floating in between a dissociation episode. He’s not really all there.

Jesus Christ, was he the only one who had a good night? Well, he doesn’t really know how Duke’s night went but with the way he was rushing to get on patrol, if Jason had to guess it would be probably not good.

“Parsnip and Onion fritters.” He replies while scanning the kitchen for what task he can give Dick to help him out.

“Hey, could you do the dishes for me? I wouldn’t want Alfred to wake up and find the kitchen a mess.” He asks softly. Jason doesn’t mention that Alfred is already up and upon seeing all of them in the kitchen, about ten minutes ago, gave Jason a soft smile and left to do whatever Alfred does when he’s not butlering.

Dick turns to where Jason points to the dishes and nods.

“Oh yeah, of course.” He says spacely. Jason fights the urge to fist pump. If he’s learnt anything it's if you wanna get Dick Grayson to help himself, you gotta guilt trip him a little bit. He does take the knife before Dick can add it to his washing pile. Yeah he’s got some less than moral helping tactics but he’s not gonna let the guy hurt himself.

Damian gets up to help Dick with the dishes and they make quiet conversation. With Damian occasionally yelling when Dick splashes him or tries to place bubbles on his head.

Jason hands the empty bowl to Dick before placing the last of the fritters onto one big plate. He quickly whips up a greek yogurt and herb dip sauce. He grabs out enough plates for everyone and places two on a plate for Duke before wrapping it with foil and placing them in the fridge. He then hands the remaining stack of plates to Dick.

“Alright losers follow if you want breakfast.” He calls out before heading into the proper dining room. Dick sets the table before taking one for himself.

Jason will never tell anyone but he did feel nervous waiting for everyone’s reaction.

“Wait, why is this good?”

“I can’t tell if these are good or if I’m just really fucking hungry.”

“These are really good Jaybird.”

He tried to hide the way the tension fell from his shoulders before digging into his own food. The atmosphere was good and it made Jason kinda miss moments like this. This sense of family and belonging. Just a family having breakfast together.

“Is there any left for me?” Bruce asks as he walks in. Jason looks up at him. He’s met with a proud look he hasn’t seen in what feels like a lifetime. He hides his face and gestures to an empty chair.

“Take a seat, old man.”

I hope the fic is a good as you guys imagined 🥰

here’s a special thanks to @kaycynyrs for sending in the ask that inspired me to look at this fic again and @yourlocal-edgelord for encouraging me to rewrite it and to @heavenssolitude for being there and supporting me 🥰

(i’ll totally untag you guys if you didn’t wanna be tagged. just wanted to say thanks)

[holylulusworld]

Every breath you take (14)

Summary: There is a shadow following you. He doesn’t know what he got himself into.

Pairing: Stalker!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: a man out of time, secret admirer trope, longing, abandonment issues, crazy reader, fluff, “moving in together the crazy way”

A/N: You all made me do it! Here’s the series to this random idea: Stalker Bucky & Crazy Reader

Catch up here: Every breath you take (13)

Every Breath You Take Masterlist

Bucky searches your apartment for all the things on your list. “The blankets on the couch, check. The plushies in the back of her wardrobe, check.” He goes through your list, piece by piece.

He sighs when his eyes land on your messy bed and the two suitcases he placed on it to fill it with the things on your list. Bucky feels guilty because, while he was on a mission, you waited for him to watch you pleasure yourself.

“Doll, I got to take good care of you,” he hums to himself before turning toward the commode on the other side of the bedroom.

He opens the first drawer, licking his lips as his eyes land on your lingerie. Bucky bundles up the lingerie to carry it toward the suitcases. Before dropping the lingerie into the suitcase, he presses them to his nose, inhaling deeply. He wishes you wore them, but from now on, he can just sniff at the real thing.

The thought alone causes his cock to stir in his pants. No. He must take things slow. You’re eager to be with him, but Bucky still wants to take his time and win you over.

“Orchids, and—” He snarls, reading birth control on your list. “You won’t need these, doll. I’m going to breed your sweetness until you’re round with my child. If Steve gets his white-picket fence and normal life, I can have it too.”

Bucky cracks his neck. For half of the night, he was busy sneaking in and out of your apartment through a window. Luckily, no one saw him climb up and down the fire escape in the dead of the night.

Your apartment is empty now. Bucky grabbed every item he could find. The last thing he has tugged under his arm is the orchid you bought the day he got his plant.

“Oh, what a nice plant!” A woman swoons when he hurriedly tries to reach his car. “Where did you get it?” She gives him a sweet pout, but he’s got no time for her flirty behavior.

“A flower shop,” Bucky gruffly replies while pulling his base cap down low over his face. “Sorry, but I got to go.” He turns to leave, muttering under his breath. Bucky has no time for this.

Bucky hates being away from you. He’s still two hours away from your new home, but had to take a break to refill his tank and get some snacks.

While he waits in line to pay for his snacks and gas, Bucky checks on the live feed from his house on his phone.

He expected you to try every door to leave the house, but you simply got comfortable on the couch and played with Alpine, talking to the white cat.

“She’s…” He smiles to himself. “Perfect. My sweet doll didn’t try to run away from me. I knew she was the one, Steve. I wish you were here to meet her, punk.”

“Bucky,” you storm toward him the moment he opens the door. “OH, you got my orchids!” You gasp, seeing the box filled with your orchids in Bucky’s hands. You take it out of his hands, smiling wildly. “I already found the perfect spot. The windowsill in the bedroom and the bathroom are perfect for them.”

He nods and allows you to take the flowers out of his hands. “Maybe you can find the perfect spot for my plant too. It still stands on the kitchen table. While you take care of the flowers, I’ll bring the rest of your things inside.”

“I can help,” you offer, smiling at Bucky. “I know you’re big and strong, but I can carry a few things too.”

“No,” he cuts you off, making you frown. “I mean, you must take care of the orchids, and make sure Alpine won’t follow me. This is new territory for the punk, and I don’t want him to get lost.”

“Okay.” You carefully place the box with your orchids on the coffee table in the living room to pick Alpine up. “I’ll keep Alpine busy while you carry everything inside. I can put the orchids on the windowsill later.”

“Good girl,” Bucky says, looking at you for a moment before he leaves the room. “I’ll be right back.”

You furrow your brows when he locks the door behind him. “Hmm…I guess he wants to keep us safe, Alpine.” Picking the white furball up, you smile. “You’re so soft, Alpine. Maybe we should get a nice brush to groom you.”

You walk around the house, Alpine in your arms. The cat meows loudly, protesting when you ask him if he wants a bow in his fur.

Bucky carries the suitcases and three more boxes filled with your belongings inside the house before you see him again.

After he’s done, Bucky leans in the door frame, watching you cuddle with his cat. You lie on the bed, Alpine on top of your chest. The cat purrs loudly while rubbing his cheek against your breast.

“Punk, that’s my girl,” he half-jokes while walking inside the bedroom.

Bucky is unsure if it’s too soon to join you on the bed but kicks his shoes off nonetheless. He lies on the bed next to you, watching you and his cat for a while. “I got all of your things.”

“That’s so nice of you,” you giggle because Alpine jumps off your chest to stroll around the room. You take the opportunity to scoot closer to Bucky and rest your head against his chest. “Did you get my birth control too?”

“Why?” He hesitantly asks. That’s the only thing he didn’t bring with him for selfish reasons.

“Well,” you move your hand over his chest and purr his name. “If you rested well, and we settled in, we should test the mattress.” You dip your head to look him in the eyes. “I thought you’d like to cum inside of me.”

Tags in reblog.

[lewdmommie]

Not again

HusbandKönigxreader💗

Summary: König leaves a surprise for Y/n after her shopping trip

🎀Warnings🎀:SFW, fluff,language,brief nudity

“Hey babe I’m going shopping I’ll be back soon.” You stamp a kiss on König’s cheek. He leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Alright, I might head down to base but I’ll be home for dinner.” He calls as you grab your purse from the kitchen counter making sure all your items are accounted for. Keys. The most important piece of the puzzle, he watches in amusement as you dash around the small space,searching like a mad man. You were always losing things, it was adorable. He stands making his way over to you stealthily, your head smacks the corner of the counter top as you shoot up. Lucky for you his hand covered the sharp edge giving the blow some cushion.

“Looking for these?” He snags the keys from the decorative fruit bowl.

“How did they get in there? Hmm… okay well I’ll see you later!” You chirp, skipping out the door.

-Later that Day-

The house is dark and quiet when you step through the door. He must be working late again, you think. You toss the plastic shopping back on the couch and saunter to the bedroom, might as well have a bath after a long day of retail therapy. The hot water from the tub makes you feel like a brand new woman. You still had to make dinner so you finish up quickly, grabbing the towel from the rack as you step out of the bath. You moisturize and apply your skin care, the usual after bath routine; you add a spritz of König’s favorite perfume to top it off.

Pajamas were next on the list, you slide on your slippers and walk over to your shared dresser. You settle on something simple and sexy, the classic T-shirt and pantie combo. The front door creaks open and closes gently as König finally makes it back home. You grab the first Black tee you see and slide on your plain pink panties first. You lift the shirt over your head pulling it down the length of your torso. Something was off, there was an unfamiliar breeze on your chest. You look down and see your nipples poking through two large holes.

“What the-König!” You yell. Heavy footsteps approach from the hall,he throws the door open frantically.

“What happened are you Alright?-“ he stops immediately in his tracks and falls into the wall laughing. His legs turn to Jell-o as he cackles uncontrollably, you glare at him holding back your own laughter.

“I know you did this.” You accuse, grabbing a pillow from the bed,tossing it at his head.

“I’m sorry I must have gotten our shirts mixed up again.” He explains.

“Good thing I went shopping today.” You sigh.

“What did you get while you were out anyway?”

“A bunch of new T-shirts.” You both burst out laughing.

[guitarstringed-scars]

how to lose a guy in 10 days- t. oikawa

masterlist

day six

toru meets you at the train station.

“good morning.” he greets, yawning. it’s early. too early, you are too tired to even act insane.

“good morning toru.” you yawn too. a chain reaction.

toru scans two tickets, one for him, one for you.

the two of you file onto the train.

“how long is the ride?” you ask, passing your bag to toru as he lifts it into the overhead bin.

“about two hours.” he says. “do you want the window?”

you nod, and shuffle into the seat, sitting down. toru sits down next to you.

“are you gonna sleep?” you ask, gazing up at him.

“i’ll try. are you?”

“yeah.” you say, closing your eyes before the train even starts moving. you decide toru probably wont mind if you use his shoulder, so you lean over placing your head on him. you fall asleep quickly. you are only woken up by the train jolting to a stop. as you slowly open your eyes, you feel the weight of torus head on top of yours. gently shaking him, toru opens up his eyes and stretches.

“hm. looks like we’re here. did you sleep okay?” he asks, standing up.

“yeah, feeling less tired now.”

“good. i thought we’d stop at my parents house first today, and then maybe meet up with my friends tonight or tomorrow. if that’s okay with you?” toru says, thinking through his plan as he pulls out your bags.

you pull the straps of your bag on.

“sounds great to me. lead the way.”

you follow toru off of the train, and he grabs onto your hand as you push through the crowded station. when you reach outside, you don’t let go of his hand.

“this way!” he cheers, pulling you off. you walk for a bit, passing different shops. each place you go, toru tells you a story, some interesting thing that happened there a few years ago, or his favorite menu item.

you hate it. it makes him seem more human, the exact thing you are trying to avoid. he was in high school, just like you. sure, he was the star volleyball player and probably a school celebrity, but he’s still a real person. you feel a little sick to your stomach. you can’t dwell on the thought for too long, because shortly after you are stood in front of torus family home. your stomach hurts even more.

“don’t be nervous.” he says. “it’s just gonna be my mom, sister, and nephew. they’re all great.”

you nod.

“they’ll love you y/n.”

and then he’s opening the front door.

“helloooooo!” he sings, pulling off his shoes. you follow suit.

“in here!” a voice calls from farther in the house.

toru smiles at you, and leads you further into the house. as you walk you appreciate all of the childhood photos hanging on the wall. toru playing volleyball, a family photo, toru with a terrible haircut. you take note of the last one and remind yourself to get a photo of it before you leave.

when you enter the kitchen, you see an older woman, who looks just like toru, standing at the counter. shes drying off her hands on a dish towel, and quickly cheers as she rushes over to the two of you.

“you must be y/n! it’s great to meet you!” she hugs you, and then her son. “i’m torus mom. this is his sister, takami,” she motions to a younger woman, who also looks just like him, “and this is takeru, his nephew.”

“it’s great to meet you all!” you say, smiling.

“why would you ever date him?” chimes in takeru.

you choke, laughing. great question, you think.

“hey!” toru squeals. “not nice!” he smacks his nephew on the back of the head. “i’ll have you know i’m a total catch.”

“fighting already and you just got here!” takami cackles out. her laughter is infectuous and you all find yourself joining in.

“i just finished making lunch, sit down!” torus mom exclaims, gesturing towards the table the rest of the family sits at. toru pulls out a chair for you, and you sit down next to him. the meal is delicious. the home-cooked feeling only adds to it, and the conversation flows easily. you feel like you’ve known torus family for years. they fill you in on jokes, make new ones, and constantly poke fun at toru. once you have all feasted, you all migrate into the living room.

“toru, why don’t you help y/n take her stuff upstairs?” takami asked.

he smiles and stands up, grabbing your hand to help you off of the couch. the two of you walk up the stairs, toru carrying your bag, and into his childhood bedroom.

short bookshelves line one wall, trophies placed on top. medals hand off of the other one, placed above a small desk with a computer on top. a volleyball sits in the corner.

“you have a lot of trophies.” you muse, looking around his bedroom.

you hear him place down your bag before he walks over to where you crouch.

“i guess so.” he says, quietly.

“you don’t sound very proud of them.” you say, looking over at him.

“i am. it’s just i was a lot different of a player in high school than i am now.”

you hum.

“your family is great.” you say.

“yeah, thats for sure. sorry if they were too much.”

“not at all, i think they are a lot like you.”

“is that a compliment?”

“most definitely.”

toru smiles at you.

a beat passes. there is no way you are having a moment with toru oikawa right now. no way. he starts to lean in.

“is it okay if i-” he starts.

you cut him off by closing the distance between the two of you. there is no denying it anymore, your feelings for toru oikawa are real, and there is no way you can lose him.

the kiss is perfect. well almost.

toru oikawa is still betting. he needs to make you fall in love in the next four days. this kiss is just another stepping stone in his plan.

when the two of you pull apart from each other, toru smiles, and checks his watch. ”we should go out, my high school friends are all in town, and i want you to meet them.” toru says, standing up.

“okay.”

the two of you head out, saying goodbye to his family as you leave. the restaurant is nearby, and when you walk in, a table of 3 guys wave you over. you both sit down, greeting the other men. ”hi, i’m y/n.” you say, shaking their hands.

“hanamaki.” says the one with the pinkish hair. “nice to meet you.”

“i’m matsukawa, you are way too pretty to be dating oikawa.” you laugh.

“iwazumi, and i agree.”

“why are you all so mean to me!” toru whines.

the conversation with this group flows just as easily as did the one with his family. you all gang up again on toru, and it’s great.

toru never thought that he would catch feelings for you. sure, when he picked you out of the crowd he thought you we’re beautiful, but he never thought it would be anything real. but as he watched you joke around with his friends, the people he loves most, he feels something. only for this version of you though. the real you, not the one who talks in movie theaters, starts fights, makes jokes about him in front of a therapist, or makes him leave during a basketball game. but the one who falls asleep on his shoulder on train rides, the one who knows how to make his nephew laugh. the one who holds his hand in a crowd. the one who he carries home. that’s the one toru has feelings for.

so, he reaches under the table, and takes your hand in his. maybe he doesn’t have to end it after the bet is up.

taglist: @hotvillianapologist @asapeveryday @zzzlevislothzzz @vivian-555 @theepitomeofswag

@girlkissersco @yuminako @cloooudmilk @r0seandth0rns @ilyless

@sereniteav @iluvmang @wyrcan @azharyy @kunihaver

@cherrypieyourface @walllflowerrrsss @mylahrins @ryuverse @nana7nana777

@cyenac @garfieldissocool @chris-continues @acowboykisser @iheartpinky

@idkanymorebuthere @dailyakira @neru-is-restless @wave2mia @v-e-r-t21

[jolapeno]

pickles, peppers and photos

javier peña x f!reader

summary: cleaning out the cupboards for the new year reveals more than just a cluttered kitchen.

wordcount: 2k warnings: brief and tiny mention of you struggling with new year, but pure fluff. reader has a hatred for pickles (sorry pickle lovers), no descriptions are used (banner shadows not representative. no use of y/n but javi calls you esposa and mi pimienta (hehehe). flirting. established relationship/married!javi.

an: this is my contribution to the @pickled-pena resolutions challenge! pls check out the pinned post on the pickled-pena page for more details.

When he enters the kitchen it’s a mess.

A grand explosion of things spread out over all the available surfaces.

He should have known when his outstretched hand found only cold sheets, when his eyes glanced at the clock and realised it was barely past sunrise.

Javi had considered playing ignorant, remaining in bed until you fetched him, but the sound of shattered glass, a shriek and an abundance of curses forced his legs from under the bedding.

By the time he'd dressed and come downstairs, whatever chaos had happened had been cleaned up, but the sight that still met him still made him pinch the bridge of his nose.

Every single item, from every single cupboard, had been laid out on the counter. Each item doing its best to hide the marble counter, with each kitchen cupboard flung open, revealing the carcass of the empty wooden cupboards.

Javi could argue whether it was necessary. Whether there was a point in emptying everything, to removing a handful of things before placing the rest back.

Could is the optimum word in the sentence, his hand wiping across his forehead, brushing past loose strands, as he tried to find something more optimistic to say than why?

Because he knows why.

And why is the only reason you’re on this side of the bedroom door: traditions.

Your way of getting rid of the clutter to usher in tidiness—provides a sense of renewal. Or, that's what you told others. You'd let him in on the real reason, your secret. How you struggle, how a new year feels big, overwhelming, difficult—but this helps. It keeps your mind occupied, focused, and feeling good.

Mostly, it keeps you busy—and is the only reason you’re dressed in clothes that don’t have food cartoons on them.

Not that he minds your array of comfy-and-cosy-only-for-home PJs.

Each set, some overly worn, some now mismatched, just gives him more reason to tease you that you are good enough to eat. To get close, whisper those words into your ear, either trace his fingers under your pants leg or splay his fingers up your spine, and remind you (with a roll of his hips) that he desires you whether you’re naked or dressed up, in his clothes or in colourful PJs.

You either really hate these PJs or you must really love me, Peña.

Most of the time, it's the latter. Depending on the pair, it could be both. His fingers slotting between yours as he moves you on the couch, watching your face shift into one of lust, that smile adorning your lips—the one he first fell in love with. Want me to take these off, baby, he'll reply, before he'd begin whispering (in plenty), how perfect you are, how pretty.

While you do right now look as pretty as ever, he's not sure he could say the moment was perfect.

"Do I ask?"

Peering your head out from around an open cupboard, the scent of fresh lemon and disinfectant brushes his nose. Your eyes slide over his face, before your lips twist into a smirk, head motioning to the freshly brewed pot, informing him you'd left him a cup out.

"Seems like all the mugs are out, mi pimienta."

"Funny," you snort, shaking your head.

Leaning on the counter he stares, admires. Eyes lingering on the way your jeans hug your ass, how you're hand cleaning the back of the cupboard has forced your top to rise. Swiping his thumb over his bottom lip, just continuing to watch, teeth nipping at the skin...

Because how did he get so lucky?

Him. Javier Peña. A man with a decorated and successful past, but has felt the most victorious when he's freed you out of your pickle PJs and laid you down in the sheets he helped pick out with you.

You don’t even like pickles, something he knows well.

A thing you remind him with a disgusted look and a high-pitched whisper whenever he orders burgers for the two of you.

Javi does know you like peppers, though.

His pimienta. A joke one night that stuck, a mishap, a bumble of words when you’d been trying to tell him those three words. Hands around his, candle flickering on the table:

‘Porque eres la sal de my pimienta.

If he hadn’t already known he loved you before then, he knew it at that moment. His heart burst, mirroring the way a smile slid over his face, and a laugh cracked through his chest. The sound filled the air as he watched you join him, heard it, the way your laughs merged together when you were happy.

While you never call him your salt, he has taken it upon himself to call you his pepper. Whispers it, speaks it, shouts it, grunts it when you’re nothing but fire and temptation.

"How long you been up?"

"A while," you reply, back still to him, eyes studying something in front of you. “You think you're going to eat these, Javi?”

Blinking, he stares at you as you spin to face him—spotting the two very different tins in your hand. Fruit, all canned.

He can’t even remember when you both had gotten them. Not ever recalling wanting them, never mind purchasing them with the groceries.

“Your Pops must have given them to us,” you add, adding a shrug, likely seeing the pinched expression, the evidence of his confusion. “I’ll take that as a no.”

You bend over, placing it in a box which is slowly filling.

But his eyes are only focused on your form. Over the slither of skin exposed at your back. Somehow, after all this time, the sight of you still makes him warm; the way you fit him, made things better, easier. Make him feel worthy of a slither of happiness and peace.

Plus, the way you look at him makes his mind less focused on the food he wishes to keep, and more on what he could devour if he made enough space for you on the counter.

Adjusting himself, and clearing his throat, he glances at the counter, fingers sliding over his lower jaw as he stares at the half-open boxes of pasta, the spices, and then—

Saying your name, you look at him, all wide-eyed, slowly rising to full height. “Why do we have a jar of pickles?”

Pulling a face, you shrug. “Must have been something we were given.”

“You hate pickles.”

“Very astute, Peña. Are you sure they’re not your pickles?

Tilting his head, he slides his jaw, offering it to you—the jar. Watching as your fingers twitch, not willing to take it. Your eyes don't move from him, not wanting to bow, to bend. Mostly likely, not even wishing to take the jar from him—even if the contents were safely behind thick glass and swimming in their own green-tinged juice.

“You need to get better at saying no, mi pimienta.”

“Oh, do I? Well, no las compré, which means we were gifted them. Which then means—actually, wait. You stand there and accuse me, but where were you at the time, ay?” Your hands move to your hips, and while your eyes have grown sharp, he can tell the teasing tone in your voice, the smirk which threatens to expose how hard you’re trying to be serious. “Where were you when the pickle jar found its way into our home? Because you know I wouldn't take it—”

He shouldn’t smile, but he does.

The smirk cracks through—sliding past your forced serious expression. Cutting through, blooming light and warmth across the rest of your face, making your eyes glint, twinkle, fucking sparkle.

Javi shouldn’t want to grab the camera from the table behind him. Shouldn’t want to snap a photo of you like this—capture it, wait to develop it and then keep it for himself to smile at another time.

In all honesty, he knows he probably doesn’t even need another photo of you. Should save the shot for the next time the two of you head out on a hike—but, fuck does he want this one. Your hands on your hips, head tilted, a smirk desperate to glide over your mouth.

He's not sure if you still love the gift you’d given him for his birthday, a sweet note attached to it: a way for you to keep capturing the now. Because he doubts you expected the now to be mainly you.

But, he liked having the moments. Them piling up in the coffee table drawer—one, in particular, inside his wallet. You all shy, hands posed where he’d said—I’d only do this for you, Javi.

He doesn’t confess that there are lots of things he has found he’d only do for you. Many of them never thought possible before you fell into his life. Just like how he’d never been one for memories.

Now, since you, he likes the reminder. Enjoys building the collection of how real this is—a full-on album of just pointless things. Soft mornings, tipsy evenings and you in the green apron his Pop bought you as you tried your hand at baking; then there were the many walks, you feeding animals and lots of snaps of the home the two of you are building.

He just wants to collect them all. Have them for himself. The evidence of this peaceful domesticity, this happiness—this present he never thought would be his future.

“I love you,” he interrupts, all soft, practically falling from him—tumbling out past his sly smile.

It cuts you off and stops you in your tracks. Him just watching your eyes widen a fraction more than before—lips remaining parted, hands sliding from your hips to hang easily at your sides.

A calmness settles over him, a dryness growing in his throat, as he moves around the counter, fingers nudging one of the cupboard doors to close. Unsure how he can articulate how happy you make him, more today than yesterday, and likely even more tomorrow than now.

Reaching out, he pulls you by the loop of your jeans, body meeting his—all willing, suddenly flush with his.

“How about…” he begins, the slope of his nose brushing against your cheek, feeling your fingers slide around his waist, dig a little more purposefully into his side, holding him, present, rooted. “We stop accepting food from people out of politeness—start just saying no?”

He peers at you. Watching as you think over it, assess it. “What, like a New Year’s resolution?”

Moving his hands, he cups your cheeks in his palms, guiding your eyes up to him. Just like every time before, since the first moment they landed on him—found him, buried deep into his soul, they pulled a smile. One pair of eyes undoing him, an array of shades swirling, individual paint strokes that made up the eyes he chose to have burned into him forever. The metal on his finger is evident of it, pressing it against your skin as you stare, waiting.

Swallowing, he smiles. “Yeah.”

Nodding, you trace your lower lip with your tongue—wetting it, likely knowing you’ve captured his attention. “I can do that.”

“You sure, baby?”

His hand slid down your cheek, and jaw, landing on your neck—the fabric of your clothes brushing against his wrist and forearm.

“You’re very nice, too nice sometimes.”

Laughing, it brushes over him. All soft, warm, It fluttering over him as you take him in, and as he studies you. “I can try to be less nice.”

Humming, he slides two fingers under your chin, positioning you there, the gap between the two of you closing, and closing—

“Could leave you wanting, for example,” you say. Adding an emphasis to the -ting, making it pop.

"That would be cruel."

Ghosting his lips over yours, the hand on your side clutches you a little tighter. “I know you want me on the counter, Javi. Saw it in your eyes when I was bent over in front of you. And, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you—mi esposo.”

Groaning, he kisses you—a test, soft, quick. Eyes focused on the way yours briefly chased his.

“But,” you say, pulling your face back from his touch, “I have to say no, out of politeness—can’t fuck a man who would accuse me of willingly accepting pickles.”

“Pimienta…”

And you grin, wickedly.

And fuck does he want a photo of that too.

visit @pickled-pena to read the full masterlist of entries.

[riofann]

3. tempestuous

Authors Note: I am trying something new. I like this story line please give me your feedback. Only reposts and likes please don't steal my work. XOXO Rose

Tempestuous: characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion.

Previous Chapter

Sunday September 8, 2019 

You step outside to see Rio standing by his G-Wagon truck. 

“Hey mama” 

“What do you want?” you hadn’t heard from Alejandro since he showed up to your restaurant nor were you seeking him out. 

“Where you going?” he looks at your outfit a dress with sandals

“It's Sunday and I have things to do. What do you want?”  you ask again

He shrugs “Mind if I ride a long?” he smiles 

You look at him as he walks up to you. It's only when he's standing directly in front of you looking down at you is when you respond “Why do you want to ride along?” 

He shrugs “just want to. Is that a crime?” 

You roll your eyes not in the mood to try and decipher in between the lines “get in” you say as you open the door

Your Sunday reset was now going to be with an annoying company 

You link your phone to car and select your Sunday playlist, 90s RnB something that was a must for Sunday reset

You wait for him to adjust in his seat before you pull off 

First stop- Target to restock on things you noticed this week you need laundry detergent and while there you saw some cute bathroom items that you grabbed. You don't speak to Rio in fact you forgot he was there until you turned to see him observing you  

Second stop- The international store you needed some ingredients for your meals this week

Third stop- The nursery/flower shop

“Y/N!” You hear behind you, you both turn around “I got some new Lillie's...” she pauses realising you and Rio were indeed together  “oh I'm sorry” 

“Julia this is Rio, Rio Julia” Julia the owner of the nursery a mid 60s woman who could talk for hours about plants 

“Nice to meet you” he says nodding his head 

“Nice meeting you too Rio” Julia links her arm around yours and pulls you through the nursery 

Last stop- Groceries you had to make sure you meal prepped for the week 

You and Rio still haven't said much to each other. When you pull into your driveway you turn off the car and turn to look at him “Sooo...”  

He smiles “We got things to unload don't we?” 

You turn back to face your home and remove your keys "Right" You get out the car and grab your purse, open the trunk, before you reach for the heavy items Rio stops you “I got you," He puts his hand to block you “here”  he hands you the flowers “you go inside I got everything else” 

“Okayyyy”

You look back at him gathering the groceries in his hands, before opening the front door. He was acting bizarre today/

After all the groceries are in Rio closes the door and makes himself comfortable by the kitchen island.

You watch him from your peripheral while you put your items away and keep him in your line of sight as you rotate the floral arrangements in your home as well. 

When all of that was done you feel uneasy because he wasn't speaking nor were you aware of the purpose of this visit. Was he going to kill you? Was he going to harm you? Why was he just around? 

He becomes distracted with his phone texting. It gives you some time to look around your purse was far away and it would be weird to go pick it up and carry it around even though it had your gun, the knives were in the drawer near him and you can’t just pull them out for no reason nor can you sneak and hold one behind your back.  You get the idea to pull items out of the fridge for dinner at least you would have a reason to hold the knife then. 

You hear his phone hit the counter indicating he was done, with your back to him facing the fridge you ask “are you staying for dinner?”

He clears his throat “Am I not welcomed?”

You turn to face him “who said that? ”

He smirks “Then why are you asking ma'?” 

You want to slap him who the fuck invites themselves to someone else’s house?

You roll your eyes and pull out the marinated meat “since you invited yourself to dinner you're on grill duty”  you give him a sarcastic smile placing the dish in front of him

He nods and smirks accepting the role

He doesn't say anything as you speak “the charcoal is outside, grill was cleaned yesterday, here are tongs, a grill fork, and spatula, marinade to put on the meat” you pause to think “Oh! and the brush the lighter is on the grill lighter fluid is out there too. Any questions?” 

He,shakes his head “Nope” 

“Okay have fun!” 

You watch as he steps onto the patio before you turn around to prepare the sides and salad. In between you begrudgingly make a drink for Rio, a sign of appreciation 

You walk outside which makes him turn to face you.

“Drink for you and dish for the meat"

He smiles “Good looking out” he raises the glass as a toast to you, you nod and walk away 

When dinner is done you serve him food and sit next to him on the kitchen island. You focus on the music playing and think back to your childhood to not accept the reality of what was happening right now. 

After dinner is over and you’ve put the dishes away in the dishwasher you’re both now just staring at each other as you finish off your drinks. 

“I’m sorry” he says out of nowhere

“Excuse me?” you weren’t expecting that 

He sighs and straightens up so he can face you square, he doesn’t say anything for what seems like forever, your heart spikes as he stands up and walks towards you. You assume he is getting ready to kill you right then and there dammit you had let your guard down again and now there were no weapons to use but your very heavy whiskey glass you were holding. 

“I said I’m sorry” he speaks standing in front of you “For letting Nick get in my head” 

Ahhhh he was apologizing for the kidnapping “okay” you hadn’t forgotten about it but you most certainly weren’t expecting an apology 5 months after, you weren’t expecting any apology actually 

He chuckles lightly “come on ma, you gotta give me something” 

“Apology acknowledged” you give him a tight lipped smile He nods “I’ll take that” he finishes off his drink, rinses the cup and places it in the dishwasher “see you around yea?” you nod and watch him leave your house. 

God did you wish you could call someone and talk about how strange your day was, how strange the apology was. Wasn’t really an apology more like an admittance of fault if anything he hadn’t atoned for what he put you through. 

Thursday September 12, 2019 

“Have a seat” he speaks to you. You slide into the seat next to Mick “We need to expand the business”, your mind flashes back to two Sundays ago. Is this why he spent the day with you? To butter you up to do more work? 

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re so good at what you do, we’re expanding our territory we will need to wash more money” “Why don’t you have other people do it for you? You have a big network surely I'm not the only one that does this for you” He sighs “You’re not but you’re the best” “What if i say no?” you hypothesize “That’s not an option darling” 

You sigh and start sliding off the booth to leave

“I’m not done”

“You’ve already made the decision what else do you want from me?” He remains silent “Right”

He lets you go and texts you the details later on 

Rio: We have 3 spots we want you to look at confirm which one is the best, see you next week 

Friday September 20, 2019

“Cariño!” you hear as you walk to your car at night scaring you “Oh my god! Alejandro!”

“Lo siento mi dulce, Que Paso?!” he gives you cheek kisses, it was the middle of the night the bar was closed everyone had left 

“Hey whats up?” you keep your hand in your purse 

He shakes his head “No need for that senorita. You think about what I said?” 

“How do I know the 30% you offer is more than what I will get from Rio?” 

“How do I know you won’t screw me over?” 

You smile “you don’t” 

He returns your smile “Same” 

“So what do you say huh? You want to give it a try?”

“I don’t want a blood bath” He shakes his head “there won’t be como se dice?? Ah scouts honor, si scouts honor. We will talk to the Serraño family tell them this is for the best” 

“I still need to think about it” He sighs “You know I offer you something good and you don’t take the offer?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to take the offer. There is a lot hanging and i just need to make sure” you appease to him knowing things could turn out bad for you

He interrupts you “I told you the Guerrero family will take care of you” “At what cost?”

He beams “We can and we will eliminate any obstacles you have”

You roll your eyes “I need to time to think and you’re gonna give me the time I need” you go to open your door and throw your purse in He throws his hands up “Si senorita but time is running out I can’t convince my boss that this is a good idea if you keep turning me down” You stop to look at him “I thought you were the boss?” He adjusts his belt loop “Si soy el jefe pero again we are a family other people have to approve” “What do you want from me?” He shrugs “what we want is the same service you provide for the Serraño family, that is all” 

“Why won't you find another bar?” you ask, because why was everyone acting like you were the only person who knew how to wash money in this big city

“No we want the best of the best, you're the best of the best” you look at him taking it in “consider my offer” 

Saturday October 5, 2019 

You weren’t meeting him at your bar, you were meeting him at an upscale winery where all they served was charcuterie boards, fine wines, and spirits. You dressed the part with heels, dress, etc. 

“Hello stranger” he comments to you not responding to his texts. 

You sigh and finish the details you were drawing in the tablet “Rio”

He waves down the bartender “Halloween season not spooked out to be out at night?” he jokes

“If there was ever a boogey man I’m in business with him so no” He chuckles accepting the insult “What you got?” 

“I’m almost done” you comment, finishing up the wine in your glass along with the finishing touches on the drawings. He remains silent, phone always distracting him of course. You look at him from your peripheral, taking him in an all black attire, nothing new. You also hadn’t told him about Alejandro paying you a visit recently, so you have been contemplating brining it up to him or wait for him to bring it up to you “I’m done, here you go” 

“Cool, aye my man get her another” “Oh no it's fine I am done, I’m going home here you go, keep the change”  you say paying off the bartender 

“Oh come on, I just got here, can't we talk?” You turn to face him “About what Rio?” 

He sits back and places his hand under his chin “anything, the expansion, your flowers you picked up from Julia? That's her name right?...any recent visits”  he confirmed 

You scoff “fuck off” 

“I’m being serious”

“And I am too! Fuck off” 

He sits up straight “I would expect you to be happy about an expansion, it's good for our partnership that I’m giving you more” “Partnership?” You mug deeply “This” you emphasize gesticulating between you two “Is NOT a partnership! This is an authoritarian relationship you say jump and the only thing I get to do is ask how high” 

He sighs “That’s not true” “Then what the fuck happened in June if it’s not?!” He remains silent “Right fuck off Rio! You always get what you want, you don’t care what that means for anyone else! The designs are in there the passcode is on the tablet, have a nice evening” with that you grab your purse and walk out of the restaurant. You don’t know why but you got so upset you wiped the tears away as you made it to your car. 

Wednesday October 16, 2019

You slide into the booth, this time you both don’t even mention each other’s names the tension still thick from the last meeting

“What do you want?” you ask him 

“Oooh what's going on here?” Nick comments he wasn’t a stranger to your bar but he also wasn’t a frequent customer 

“Nothing” “Lovers quarrel?” You turn to face Nick “I should shoot you” He grins “Oooh she’s feisty today brother” “Cousin” Rio corrects

Nick scoffs “We grew up as brothers, why try to get into the semantics” Rio glares at him and he chuckles, picking up a wing from the basket. It remains silent as you and Rio just stare at each other “Well since no one wants to talk I will, we would like for you to tell us the best spot” he hands you the tablet 

“Does it matter what I think? Or you just want to hear me talk?” you ask Nick “It matters, I’m not like my baby brother, I listen” Rio scoffs You sigh and open the tablet. “First option is in a commercial strip mall, there’s limited parking so the other businesses will not be happy and it will affect their customers as well driving away businesses” “Right” Nick nods

“Also getting food delivered there’s not much space for the delivery trucks that would mean that they take up parking spaces or block people in for at least one hour. The second location there’s not enough space inside the capacity will be limited to 100 people total that's including staff and patrons so any major sport event or event like Fourth of July, Christmas night, New Years Eve we will not be able to accommodate people” 

“Okay” 

“Also given the space is small the most we can do is standing tables and limited menu”

“Ohhhh” “The last option is probably the best out of the three, it's a stand alone building with a parking lot,  although the lot is small, parking can be easily located across the street on the deck or on the side. This one allows for expansion if necessary as it stands it can accommodate over 200 people and that comes in handy during large events or busy nights, for safety reasons we can add more exit doors, for design purposes the space can accommodate both booth tables and standing bars and maybe even a pool table area. 

“Niccceeee”  You roll your eyes “so you like the 3rd option but what about location?” “The location sucks for the third one but people will drive for good food and a good environment, 20-30 minutes from the city uber/lyft will not cost more than 40 bucks back downtown on a busy night. The other 2 are located perfectly within the city however because of the other factors I don’t consider them the best place to be.”  

Nick nods enthusiastically “understood understood, bro got any questions?” You both turn to look at Rio, he looks at you and says “no” 

“Okay well I have a bar to run” “Wait before you go we want to tell you which one we’ve picked” “Okay” you say apprehensively “Given all you’ve said the first location is the best” 

Rio looks at him you don’t say anything you assume that was a shock to Rio as well

“Its actually the worst of all 3” you comment 

“But its in the middle of all the action people will shop and stop by the bar”

“You’ll piss off the other businesses local businesses at that” 

He shakes his head “No dear, YOU, will piss them off not us” he smiles 

You sigh defeated “alright whatever I gotta go”

“Brother you have been really silent, it will help if you could show support this is what we discussed remember” If looks could kill then Nick would be dead

You stand up and look Rio in the eye “well I guess the boss has spoken hasn’t he Rio?” you give a half smile before turning to walk away 

“Oooohhh she called me a boss” you hear Nick comment rubbing it in as you walk away

Authors Note: Please leave your feedback, again please don't steal. Only repost, like, or give credit.

XOXO Rose

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