#so he goes for easy light stuff like salads

[psychicthepsychic-daily]

he's probably more of a salad guy tbh

[backtothefanfiction]

It’s A Right Of Passage | tasm!peter/dad!peter imagine

Warnings: none, fluffy embarrassing parent stuff

Word Count: under 1k (it’s another quick I’m not counting)

A/N: been itching for a while to contribute to dad Peter content and feel like there is a lot of dealing with young kids stories but not enough about dealing with teenagers. So here is their eldest son Ben bringing a girl home for the first time. (Also the gif really just sparked an idea to raise this even more)

“Peter, what the heck are you wearing?” You hiss at your husband as he enters the kitchen in a Hawaiian shirt and straw hat.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, it’s all a part of the plan.” He says, moving round the back of the kitchen island to place a kiss on your cheek.

The doorbell goes and there’s a thundering of feet racing down the stairs, your son calling out, “she’s here!” and you start to put two and two together.

“No.” You turn to your husband. “No.” But he’s got a devious smirk on his face, his eyebrows raising at you mischievously.

“Oh yeah.” He counters with an exaggerated head nod.

“No, Peter. This is the first time Ben is bringing a girl home. He finally trusts us enough and you’re gonna embarrass the poor boy.”

“Poor boy? I’ll have you know that poor boy was the one who started a prank war with me when he was 9. Do you know how many pairs of underwear I had to throw away because the itching powder just wouldn’t wash out.”

“Uh huh.” You listened as you continued to chop the cucumber and tomatoes for the salad.

“And let’s not forget the time he put eggs in my shoes. Or the time him and his friends tee peed my car. My car babe.”

“Yes I remember.” You reply unenthusiastically to your husbands reasoning. “But Pete,” you say, putting down the knife in your hands and turning to him, “he’s 15 and this is the first girl he’s brought home. You do this and he’ll never forgive you.”

“Of course he will.” He says, already laughing about the thought of the future conversations he’ll have with his son about this. “Come on Babe, it’s a right of passage. I’ve been waiting for this day.” You turn away from him and give him the silent treatment. “You seriously telling me your parents didn’t embarrass you or your brother when you first brought a date home?” You begin to soften as you think back to a memory from your childhood. “Besides, this is still way better than what Uncle Ben did the first time I brought a girl home.”

“Dad? Where’s the TV remote?” Ben’s voice calls from the living room.

You watch as his face lights up. “This is my moment.” He says before swaggering towards the door.

“Just take it easy- and I want to hear the whole story about what your Uncle did to you later!” You call to him. He gives you a knowing nod of agreement before he leaves the room.

“Sooo, who’s ready for lu’au night.” You hear him say as he enters the living room and you can’t help but roll your eyes, already mentally preparing yourself for the damage control you’ll need to do after the poor girls gone home, later.

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

John Price x Journalist Reader

Gaz conducts a plan to set his Captain back up with an old flame of his. He'd hoped to recruit help from Laswell. However, the CIA operative wasn't as optimistic about this whole "reunion" as the Sergeant.

Fluff, Banter, Light Reading, Sappy Romance, One That Got Away Trope, Setting up Dates, Gaz just being an inquisitive sort, slight Character Study on Price

WC: 1.5k~

Prelude | Chapter One | Chapter Three

Masterlist

So I'm sorry to say that Price and the Reader are not in this chapter, as it is centered around Gaz and Laswell.

However, Price and the Reader are the topic matter of the entire chapter. I'm legit trying to tell a story versus it being kinda self-indulgent and smutty like my other stuff. However, we'll get there at some point, maybe 😏

Please Enjoy!

Chapter Two

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Kyle."

Gaz gives Laswell a slack-jaw look, though it does little to sway the CIA operative on her stance -- this was just something she would not involve herself with.

Of course, the Sergeant hadn't been content with a simple no. In fact, all day he's been at Laswell's side, his presence just around every corner, lingering a little longer each time. Anything in the hopes of finally convincing her to see some worth to what he was trying to suggest. After all, this plan wouldn't work without her.

Or... at least, he'd have to come up with something new if this didn't pan out, and that felt like more work than this. Though thus far, convincing her has only been an uphill battle.

"Oh, come on Kate," Gaz begins to whine, rather childishly, brown eyes growing deceptively puppy dog-like, a hidden talent of his, or rather a subliminal quirk. "You're telling me you can't help at all?"

Laswell sets her fork down beside her salad, knowing she wouldn't be able to eat how she'd like with the Sergeant still seated in her office. The woman had hoped she'd finally escaped him on her lunch break; the building was usually dead at this hour, seeing as the others were off contending to their own devices.

It had been the perfect timing to finally have a proper sit-down if you asked Gaz.

"I mean, really think about it," Gaz tries to explain his plan to the woman one more time. "We just throw a small little get-together, nothin' too fancy. All you'd be doin' is hosting, which is nothin' new for you. Then, we just invite them both over and simply... let things play out. Easy."

"Except you would be blindsiding them," Laswell says.

"Not blindsiding," Gaz retorts. "More like... surprising them. Look, it'd be doin' 'em both a favor I'm sure, yeah?"

"Look, it's not that I don't want to," she starts. "I just know it's a lost cause. Think of this as me trying to save you some time."

"Sheesh," he sighs. "That bad then, huh?"

"And then some, Kyle."

Kate gets back to eating the croutons she'd been picking through her salad for. She didn't want to ask when it was that Gaz would be leaving, however, she wouldn't complain if he did.

Gaz continued to leisurely spin in the spare rolling chair in Kate's office, sighing to himself in contemplative thought.

That bad and then some, huh? He thought. Gaz struggled to imagine a scenario where such animosity could exist between someone and the Captain. And yet this supposed relationship between him and you had existed, and the Sergeant couldn't be more intrigued by it.

"Well, what happened?"

"She cheated on him."

Gaz's mouth goes agape, his tone completely defeated. "No... really?"

Kate smirks. "No."

Laswell laughs to herself once she sees the sigh of relief the Sergeant releases. The woman's career revolved around secrets and lies. It figures her idea of fun would be pulling the Sergeant's leg.

Of course, the man's a good sport about it, chuckling to himself once he realizes it's a joke. For a second there, he really thought this had all been a waste of time.

"Seriously though," he says. "What happened?"

"To be honest with you, I still don't know," Kate admits. "Neither of them felt too up to talking about it when it happened. I just know that some kind of argument occurred, and they split up the following day. But I don't want to be the one to air out the Captain's dirty laundry, Kyle."

Laswell sinks back in her seat, thinking back on those days after the split. She had seen war slowly harden Price over the years, as it had done to all of them. For a while, he went through great efforts to try and keep a healthy work balance between that and his personal life.

Losing you had made something in him turn to stone, however. As though some other part of him had died, made up abundantly clear by the increase of his work. More eager to take assignments, less so to be home. Ops that had him away for months at a time became his favorite, and when those ops had finished, he went out to find more.

And by the time he'd become Captain, that time with his former lover merely became a bedtime lullaby for him, growing fainter by the years. No one ever really heard him talk about love again. Not until Gaz brought it up.

"So who was she anyway?" he asks. "Price said she was a friend of yours."

Kate chuckles to herself, seeing how observant the Sergeant had been in his conversation with the Captain. "That's right," she confirms. "A family friend."

"What was she like?"

"She was... is... a very interesting woman, to say the least," Kate sighs. "I can't really describe her; she was a lot of things."

"Not even a little?"

Kate thinks to herself for a moment, having gone through all the croutons in her salad now. "She was definitely a firecracker, always getting into some kind of trouble. She spoke her mind freely too. It didn't matter what it was; if a thought crossed her mind, at some point, you'd hear about it."

"Hmm," Gaz grins. "I don't know if that's what I was picturing. But, I guess I can see the vision."

"I was just as surprised," Kate says. "But... they stayed together for a long time. Six years, if I'm not mistaken."

Gaz's eyes grow wide at that fact. Longer than any relationship the Sergeant's ever been in. Though, it hadn't been for a lack of trying. Six years. That's not just enough time to know someone, that's enough time to be another half of them, at that point. Not a lifelong love, but someone who did once matter.

"So who shit the bed?"

"That would be John." Kate didn't even have to think about that one.

Gaz shrugs, having not been too surprised by that answer.

However, she then adds only seconds later, "Though... it's complicated."

"How so?"

"From my understanding, it hadn't just been an argument," Laswell says. "Honestly, I'd almost say life is what ended their relationship."

“And you really think she wouldn’t want to see him again?” he asks.

Kate pauses, short of an answer for a moment. It gives Gaz the drive to keep looking her in the eyes and pressing the matter.

"Why do you want this so bad?" she asks. No doubt, she'd been curious as to what it was that was driving Kyle to go into full investigation mode about this.

The man pauses, trying to come up with the right words to say, as he already knew his answer from the start.

Kyle thinks back on the Captain, and all the times he's seen him alone while the others had each other, wanting to be content with that. Adoring their love from afar, so he'd have something to warm him on his lonesome way home.

He thinks about that look Price had on his face the other day when he finally told him about this mysterious woman for the first time. As though he couldn't wait to talk about her again, given the opportunity.

"I just think it would be good for him."

Kate's expression softens at the Sergeant's words. Understanding that want he held to be there for Price. She's been there herself, many times before. And it makes her wonder.

She’s moved passed her matchmaking days, having tried to find Price a good match since she’s known him. Gaz’s determination to take up the mantle had been admirable to see, however.

The woman sighs, having finally been broken down by Kyle's stubbornness to not drop the subject.

“Look, I can help,” she says. “But if this backfires, I’m leaving damage control to you.”

Gaz practically jumps in his seat.

“Deal!”

Chapter Three Here!

I wanted this to be both character and plot development, so I can set up where this story is going.

The next chapter jumps back to 10 years ago, maybe a day or so after the last chapter. Price and Reader are going to have yet another cute encounter. It will be much longer than this chapter, hopefully. Stay Tuned!

~Also, I'm quoting a poem from Charlotte Erikkson - You're Doing Just Fine. I was gonna credit them at the end of the series, but I just wanted you to know so it didn't look like I was stealing their quotes!

@embers-of-alluring @quincessimus @urfavsunkissedleo @lacunaanonymoused @deadbranch @poohkie90 @glitterypirateduck @homicidal-slvt @random-thot-generator

If you don't wanna be tagged, please let me know! And on the flip, if you do want to be tagged for the next chapter, also please let me know! I feel super awkward tagging people unless they explicitly state it (I don't like to impose, I just wanted to tag people I thought were interested in the next chapter 😭)

dividers from animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[niktoes]

₊˚♡˚₊ word salad headcanons for könig as your best friend ₊˚♡˚₊

♡ just konig things. prematurely posted by accident last time, so if anyone saw that, no you didn't ♡

♡ on this blog, könig's name is otto ♡

Tags: headcanon, silly platonic friend stuff, best friend könig, reader insert

♡ Otto is a man who makes the best of friends. As an adult with a busy life, making friends is hard. Plus, he's acutely aware of the fact that he can be awkward when he's first meeting someone, and because of that he generally isn't the easiest man alive to make friends with. Most of his friendships happened because something just clicked, and everything worked from there. When it happens, the easy chemistry that lets conversation feel effortless and him feel understood? Yeah, cherished doesn't even begin to cover how close to his heart he holds your friendship. Any of hid close friendships, really, are things he values deeply. If what you need is a ride-or-die kind of guy, that is exactly what he is.

♡ This friendship looks like a relationship from the outside. Sometimes his being playful can come across as unintentionally flirtatious (wanna talk abt the 'they're dating' rumours every set of best friends has? yeah, it's like that. And he, for one, thinks its hilarious), but it's all just in good fun.

♡ There are several ways that he might approach you having a rough time in life, whether that's due to your work or issues in your personal life. Mans is spiteful. That's just a facet of himself that can't be removed or avoided if something really rots his fucking socks. And by spiteful, I mean he's the kind of guy that'll stop in the middle of a crosswalk to very carefully tie his shoelaces if a driver's impatient and pushing the boundary on the pedestrian crossing light. Malicious compliance is his cup of tea, too, if it applies. He's been alive nearly forty years, man, so no matter what problem you're dealing with, his plots for petty vengeance come naturally and he and is not shy about sharing them with you for the sake of justice (or catharsis- that too).

♡ This could just be a him thing, but if he's your friend- like, really good friend, he fully backs you no matter what. If you're out here being confidently incorrect about something debatably unimportant, he'll agree with you until he's blue in the face out of respect. It's in private that he'll let you know how much of a hilarious dumbass you were back there, arguing with so and so about 'insert topic here' when he knew- and for that matter, he's pretty sure you knew too, that you were HEINOUSLY incorrect. It's a perk of being friends with him, but also? It's kinda... just really funny to him, and his sense of humour is catered ENTIRELY towards himself.

♡ Your interests are, to some extent, his interests by proxy. He expects pretty much the same in return where your friendship is concerned. If he hears you going on about something you're pretty interested/invested in, he's gonna put in a bit of effort to learn about it so he can hold good conversations and support the things you like. That said, again, he's gonna expect the same outta you, and a lot of his hobbies are fairly active. If you can't participate, that's fine, but showing a bit of interest goes a long way. He likes reading and cooking, too, so listen to him word vomit over books he likes and be a guinea pig when he wants to try this daring new recipe he found somewhere online. If you can participate in his active hobbies? He's dragging you along when he decides to hit the slopes and go skiing- if you've never done it before, even better, because he'll get a laugh out of you fighting for your life on the bunny hill.

♡ Otto makes some decent money, and has spending money to throw around thanks to his decorated career. Because of that, and the fact that he likes to treat himself to nice things and fancy places when he feels the vibe for it, if you're cash poor and he wants to do something with you, he's gonna pay for you. He's gonna crack jokes about it, not unkindly, but he is a bit of a shithead when he's properly comfortable with someone- and as his best friend, he is very comfortable with you. So don't worry, Daddy Warbucks has you when your wallet doesn't. Time to get culturally enriched, 'cause he wants to check out a museum or attend a concert. No, he's not gonna let you feel guilty about it, because he really enjoys taking care of the people he values when he gets the chance. You can cover lunch or something next time he feels like a day out, or something.

[teecupangel]

I got a bit sucked in by Valhalla, so radio silent, but now that I am here consider this: Reda barely aged from Origins till Valhalla. It's quite probable he lived till Desmond's time. So make it like this: somehow, each time runaway Desmond finds a job, it's under Reda's network. Bad Weather is when he got to meet the boss ne hever knew. But! Reda's been hanging around Brotherhood enough, Desmond still got training all these years, playing errand boy

Did you do the final chapter? (And seen Roshan?)

Desmond's idea of what is normal in this world is so skewered by his upbringing and the people he met on his way to New York (hell, he even worked for a kid younger than him called Bugs who he's pretty sure was the mastermind behind at least 2 unsolved gang related murders) so he didn't even blink when the boss of Bad Weather turns out to be a kid too.

The kid got him an apartment (small, sure, but it's just him anyway) and a good enough salary that he can pay for all his monthly expenses and have a bit to save up or buy something nice.

His job as a bartender is nice too. He learns early on that smiling and listening to the customers give him tips too.

So what if his boss called him on his day off once to get something from an 'acquaintance' of his? Desmond doesn't have anything to do anyway. Maybe he'll get groceries along the way.

The man he took the package from is skittish and asked if he had been followed? Ah. Probably drugs. Desmond heard that does shit to people. He's not gonna judge though so he just takes the package and goes on his merry way.

Hm?

Something's wrong.

He can feel it.

Someone's following him...

Who?

His dad?

No.

He's felt this before.

This has happened before in all his other jobs.

It only means someone must have recognized him.

That's fine.

Desmond still remembers how to shake them off.

Quickly turning the corner, stepping into the shadows, waiting for them to pass.

Ah. Another black-suited dude?

Desmond's seen the movies. They're some government dudes who does shady stuff.

Probably.

Oh well. They don't see him and he goes the other way.

His boss thanks him and gives him a hundred for his trouble. Desmond gets to make homemade hamburgers (from a secondhand cookbook he bought a month ago) tonight with an extra serving of potato salad because the grocery had a half-off sale for potatoes when he did his groceries on his way home.

After that, his boss would sometimes give him easy jobs every day that he can do on his way to work. Usually picking a package on his way to work for his boss. Sometimes, he'll use the company car (they have a company car???) to drive someone to a bus or train station.

During his day off, his boss would text him if he could do him a favor. Most of the time, Desmond says yes because he lives a lonely sad life.

Corraling wild dogs for a 'friend' of his boss? Yeah, sure, why not? Hell, if he could, he would have adopted one of them.

Helping someone leave their abusive partner? Desmond didn't mind getting his hands dirty and punching the dirtbag when he tried to stop them.

Taking back a stolen laptop? The guys holding it were obviously gang members and no one saw Desmond get in and out using the ceiling window of the warehouse they were in.

His boss even showed him the weird stuff he's been collecting over the years and told Desmond he could have any of them... for a price.

The price was too steep at times but there's a plain white hoodie that was light and soft which was pretty cheap (compared to the other... is that an armor???).

Oooohhh. Those boots look nice. Desmond will save up for that one.

(Desmond gets turned into a live service player with a daily/weekly mission and he doesn't even realize it)

[hmslusitania]

in which, Eddie and Chris actually talk to each other and our boy does not pull punches. technically speculation for 5x03

“Hey, can we talk for a second?”

Chris looks up from his book, the camp light beside him throwing weird shadows across his face that make him look so much older than eleven. If Eddie thinks about that too hard, it’s going to break him.

Well.

Break him more.

“What’s wrong?” Chris asks.

“Nothing’s—” But that’s just not true, is it. Eddie sighs and sits down on the foot of Chris’s bed. “It’s about Ana.”

Chris just stares at him, waiting for Eddie to continue.

“I’ve been thinking,” Eddie starts, slow while he tries to put the words together in a way that’ll make sense to an eleven-year-old. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. And I have to break up with her.”

He braces himself for the explosion, the broken salad bowl all over again, the running away.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself when Chris’s response is a level, even, “Oh. Okay.”

He keeps talking before he’s really processed Chris’s non-reaction, because it had taken him so long to get the words right in his own head.

“Because I don’t love her, and I don’t think I’m ever going to, and it’s not fair to her to do that to her. And I know you’ve liked having her around, and that you like spending time with her, and if you want to be friends with her, that’s—you—what do you mean ‘okay’?”

Chris shrugs.

“No, no shrugging,” Eddie says. He squeezes Chris’s foot under the bedsheet and gets the tiniest hint of a grin in response. It fades just as quickly. “What do you mean ‘okay’? I thought you liked Ana.”

“She was my favourite teacher,” Chris confirms. “And it’s been nice having her around sometimes since I didn’t get to see any of my friends during quarantine.”

The unsaid “but” echoes in Chris’s bedroom. Eddie waits for him to say it, and when he doesn’t, he squeezes Christopher’s foot again.

“But?” Eddie prompts.

Chris shrugs again.

“Chris—”

“I didn’t want to say anything because she’s nice and I thought you liked having her around,” Christopher says, completely avoiding Eddie’s eyes. “But sometimes, some of the stuff she says reminds me of Grandma.”

Before Eddie can even begin to process the instant bile that goes along with the “oh god I’ve been dating my mother” of it all, Chris continues.

“And I love Grandma! And I know she loves me! But, I don’t know, sometimes it feels like she thinks I can’t do anything,” he says. “And sometimes it feels like that with Ana too.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Eddie asks. He doesn’t know how successful he is at choking down his horror. He hasn’t been very good at swallowing back any emotions these days.

“Because I thought you liked her,” Chris says. “And I want you to be happy, Dad.”

“I thought me dating her made you happy,” Eddie replies.

“It doesn’t make me unhappy,” Chris says, which is at least something of a relief. “But I don’t understand why you can’t date someone who makes both of us happy. Like Buck.”

Eddie’s pretty sure he’s going to need 5-7 business days to recover from this conversation.

“Buck dating Taylor makes you happy?” Eddie asks.

Chris rolls his eyes and looks so much like a teenager, Eddie kind of wants to run and find a way to time travel so he can make his kid be a little kid again.

It would get him out of this conversation at least.

“No,” Chris says. “I mean, you could date someone who makes you happy and makes me happy. Someone like Buck.”

Eddie doesn’t know how long he sits there, slack-jawed, but it’s long enough Christopher has to lean over and tap him on the shoulder to break him out of it.

“Buddy, that’s not — Buck and I aren’t — I’m not—”

“It would be okay if you were,” Chris says, and if Eddie has to hear an entire it’s okay to be gay speech from his child, he might have to check himself back into the cardiology ward. “And I always like having Buck around, so you wouldn’t have to worry about that part.”

“That’s—”

It feels a little like his life flashing before his eyes.

Dropping Christopher off at Buck’s loft before the tsunami.

After, telling him there’s no one in the world Eddie trusts more with his son.

This is my kind of therapy.

Putting Buck in the will.

This is what I want for him.

All the time Buck had spent with Christopher while Eddie was recovering. Hell, all the time he’d spent with Eddie.

Of course he can’t handle a pre-fab, just-add-water, ready-made family with Ana. How the hell is she supposed to fit when he’s already built an entire family, a real one, an unbreakable one, with Buck?

“Too bad he has a girlfriend,” Chris says, and there’s something just a little teasing about it, like he might have noticed the disgust on Eddie’s face when he mentioned Buck and Taylor.

“Yeah, well, right now so do I,” Eddie replies, and when Chris grins at him, Eddie thinks that he might, somehow, have just followed all of Eddie’s internal processing. Or, at least, the broad strokes of it. “One problem at a time, okay?”

And now, he’s just got to rip the bandaid off. That part, at least, should be easy.

[ddarker-dreams]

Lunch Discussions. Team Bucciarati x F Reader🎀

[Scarlet Ribbons description]

Word count: 1.3k, somehow ?? Notes: this is probably the most lighthearted thing i’ve ever created. idk what’s happening here. it started as a silly idea in my head but I Could Not Stop. so here it is

“If you were stranded on a deserted island, who from this table would you want to be stuck with?” 

Mista’s question goes largely unnoticed. Fugo and Narancia are in a heated discussion on if classical or hip hop is better, Bucciarati and Giorno are speaking about business, and Abbacchio is trying to zone the chatter out. That leaves you to save Mista from the throes of embarrassment. Truth be told, this innocent question is an improvement from Mista’s usual discourse.

The gunslinger’s face lights up when you hum, considering the question. 

“So it’d just be the two of us? I can’t say I’d bring a radio or something?” You ask to clarify further. 

Mista shakes his head. “Nope, no bringing anything.” 

That means practicality is most vital here. You mull over what each of your teammates (and bosses), could bring to the table. It didn’t take too long to reach a definitive answer.

“For survival’s sake, I’d pick Giorno,” you decide, the aforementioned man’s attention going to you upon hearing his name. “Well, I guess it depends on whether or not the food Gold Experience makes is edible. If it is, we’d be able to survive a long time off of it. Say, Giorno, can you eat the stuff you make?” 

“I’ve… never tried, so I’m not sure. In theory, any life created by Gold Experience is the same down to the genetics of what it’s based on.” 

Narancia snorts and takes a bite of his salad. “It’s all fun and games until a coconut falls on Giorno’s head and he’s knocked out cold. Then all the sticks and sand he used to make the food would turn back in your stomach.” 

Huh. That makes for a grotesque mental image. 

Giorno tries to defend himself but Narancia is too busy readying his argument. “A coconut…?” 

“Clearly, I’m the best choice here,” Narancia decides, pointing his fork at you. Should that be considered a threat? “Aerosmith could get the attention of a nearby plane.” 

“Non-Stand users wouldn’t be able to see it, you dumbass. What are you going to do? Wait for a Stand user pilot to roll on by?” Fugo asks with a sigh, Narancia shooting him a nasty look. 

“You never know! I’m sure there’s one or two. Besides, why would anyone want to bring you along? Your Stand couldn’t even hunt for food, it’d turn everything into a big ol’ pile of mush.” 

Fugo clicks his tongue. “There’s more to survival than that. Food is a valuable resource, yes, but do you know how to purify water?” 

Narancia furrows his eyebrows together, considering the proposition. “You have to… purify water?” 

Now it’s Fugo’s turn to look at you.

“This idiot would give you dysentery on day one,” he states dryly. You hold back a laugh at the indignation on Narancia’s face. “I think my chances would be pretty good. At least I know what poisonous plants look like.” 

Mista’s simple question is turning into a complex cobweb of possibilities. He can’t help but notice the others seemed more willing to chime in the moment you entered the conversation. Silently, he tells himself not to take it personally. 

“Well, whatever. I’d pick [First]. She could make us a shelter and bridges to different areas. The rest of you guys can be boring and pick Giorno.” Narancia decides. You can’t help but feel a little honored that he’d pick you, a content smile on your face. His last comment makes you wonder if picking Giorno is the easy answer, due to the nature of his Stand’s abilities. Abbacchio, who none of you thought was paying attention, speaks up. 

“I wouldn’t pick Giorno,” Abbacchio places his headphones around his neck. “I wouldn’t pick any of you guys, actually. Aside from Bucciarati, you’d all be dead in a week, easily.”

Bucciarati clears his throat, realizing he’s now been roped into the conversation. “I’m glad you guys are having fun, but--” 

Mista is quick to rebuke Abbacchio’s claims. “I would not die in a week! I’d at the very least make it to two weeks.” 

“Like hell you would. Pistols would destroy your food supply on the first day.” Abbacchio counters. Hm, he’s got a point, you think. Pistols do have a notoriously ravenous appetite. Note to self, do not get stuck on an island with Mista. 

Mista puts a hand to his chin, contemplating. “Hm… actually, yeah, you’re right. Nevermind.” 

You blink, incredulous at Mista’s agreeable response. He gave up that fast?! 

“What if we kept it out of Pistol’s reach?” You tentatively speak up, trying to save Mista’s honor once more. He shudders at the thought.

“There is no such thing as food out of Pistols reach,” Mista sighs, to which his Stand cheers. “They will always find it.” 

An idea comes to mind. Clasping your hands together, you look at Narancia with a smile, who immediately returns it in full. “Oh, I know! What if we got on Aerosmith, and it flew us to safety?” 

Narancia likes the idea and nods his head vigorously. “That’s genius!” 

Fugo snorts, preparing a rebuttal in record time. “Yeah, it’d be genius until you both drop into the ocean.” 

“[First], did you forget what happened the last time you were on a plane with Narancia?” Abbacchio raises an eyebrow. Your blood runs cold as memories of Notorious B.I.G come flooding back. Actually, being on any form of transportation with these people seems to end poorly. Cars, boats, airplanes… 

“Come to think of it, you’re right about that,” you agree with a shiver. “Being stuck with Abbacchio might be interesting. Moody Blues could replay scenes from a movie to pass the time.” 

“It’d be a one-man show, but I guess it’s not impossible,” Abbacchio replies. Giorno, who had been silently watching the banter, decides to speak his piece.

“I agree with Narancia,” Giorno nods at you. “[First] would be able to treat my wounds, and I hers. We’d survive the longest.” 

“Oh, please. You guys just want to be stuck on an island with [First] because she’s c-” 

Abbacchio kicks Mista under the table, effectively silencing him. Beats getting stabbed with a fork, you muse. Bucciarati, who is doing his best to moderate the discussion, has remained noticeably absent. Not wanting to miss out on his input, you direct the question to him.

“What about you, Bucciarati? Who would you pick?” 

Your Capo thinks about it longer than the others. “Fugo’s plentiful knowledge of biodiversity would be useful. Though, if we’re taking Stands into account, [First]’s Scarlet Ribbons could make a net for fishing.” 

“Finally, a sensible answer.” Fugo sighs. 

“The real question is,” Mista takes a deep breath, placing his hands on the table. “Why is no one picking me? 

“I thought we already went over that,” Narancia replies.

“Aside from the little caveat Pistols presents, I’d still be a valuable asset. Did you guys forget that I survived prison?”

“Two weeks of prison, might I add,” Fugo corrects, to Mista’s dismay. “By that logic, Narancia would be the best choice.”

“Which I am--”

“You don’t even know how to make a fire, much less survive in the wild.” 

“If I shoot something long enough it’ll catch on fire.” Narancia shrugs. Fugo rubs his temple, fending off a headache that looms on the horizon. It looks like none of you are going to be reaching a conclusion anytime soon, talking circles around one another. Still, you feel as if this is the appeal of talking to them. You can expect it to be a thrilling adventure from start to finish. 

Everyone had been too drawn into the conversation to realize the waiter, who finally works up the courage to clear his throat, catching your attention. 

“The bill for today,” is all he has the courage to say. 

Mista, Narancia, and Abbacchio both motion to Giorno at the same time, who sighs and reaches for his wallet.

[monicashipslokius]

Our Two Minutes

 Time used to be a commodity that Mobius had in spades, back when things worked different in the TVA. Lately, though, with the fall of the sacred timeline and general new disorder of things - well, Mobius wouldn’t pass up just a few extra minutes to take a breath.

Loki doesn’t seem to mind, seems to thrive on the chaos. Minutemen running around. Time-doors opening and closing here, there, everywhere. Fires cropping up when you least expect it, some of which Mobius suspects Loki might be starting. Their usual research table in the library is a little too out of the way of most things to be a coincidence when it goes up in flames.

Not that Mobius minds seeing Loki in their element, especially with their magic back. They wear mischief like a second skin, along with those clever eyes and that easy smile. Though Mobius just wishes he wasn’t seeing it here at the potential end of all things.

Loki and Mobius are watching the branching trees on the timeline monitor when a report of a new fire comes in. This time in the cafeteria. A vat of salad has spontaneously combusted.

Mobius shoots Loki a flat look.

“What?” Loki asks.

Mobius sighs, but doesn’t have it in him to be mad. Loki’s been like this - a little bit brighter, maybe too bright - since they rejoined Mobius at the TVA. Mobius doesn’t totally understand. Obviously something bad happened out there past the void. But they can’t seem to find two minutes - just two minutes - to talk about it.

Nor what happened after.

Mobius has pieced some of it together: the way Loki fell through the time door, dead on their feet. The weary look they gave Mobius almost like they expected him to say something, he didn’t know what, but something wrong. How when Mobius recognized them, called their name, they pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, even as the library burned around them.

“It’s you,” Loki said then. “It’s finally you.”

“You can’t have salad for lunch everyday,” Loki says now. “Variety is the spice of life.”

“You stole that from a Hallmark card,” Mobius says. Before Loki can reply, he pushes forward, back on task, “We have to focus here. This could be the end of... I don’t know, everything.”

“Everything?”

“Timeline war. Mass annihilation?”

Loki hums. The way you would when your ice cream falls off the cone. Not, perhaps, the most appropriate reaction for the end of all life, past, present, and future.

“Loki.” Mobius turns to them, because while he is enjoying seeing Loki so... Loki, he’s also starting to get a bit concerned. Loki’s not known for being apathetic. Caring too much is sort of their M-O. At least for things worth caring about. Which Loki used to think this was.

“Yes, Mobius?” They continue to watch the screen, where the lines branch and branch and branch, too many now, numbers in the seven-digit mark.

Two minutes. That’s all Mobius would need. It’s all he hasn’t found.

Maybe he should make it.

Mobius places his hand on Loki’s shoulder, drawing their attention. They look at him, see his expression, and their smile dims. Mobius hates that he did that, but...

“This is a big deal. Cataclysmic stuff,” he says.

“Yes. Of course.”

Mobius turns toward them fully. “Don’t take this wrong. It’s great seeing you smile. But you get we’re probably going to die horribly? That’s definitely in the cards for us.”

Loki’s smile returns, but it’s softer. They laugh a little. “Mobius,” they say, and despite the laugh, the name holds a new, heavy weight that Mobius doesn’t understand. “You have no idea how long I have traveled to be here.” They shake their head. “I never thought I’d get here."

Mobius’s throat goes dry. “How long?”

Loki waves a hand. “Time is difficult to track between timelines.”

Timelines. Plural. “How many timelines?”

Loki’s smile vanishes entirely. The veil comes down in their eyes, and Mobius can see the age there. This is his Loki, but older. So much older. And so, so tired.

The thought of his Loki, a lone traveler through time, stakes straight through Mobius’s heart. Loki’s aren’t meant to be alone. They need family, and friends. They need love.

“So you can see why I have found fresh optimism,” they say, “Now that I have found you again.”

Found you. They can’t mean that. Not like that.

Loki looks back to the monitor, but Mobius isn’t done. Two minutes or twenty, to hell with time. This feels the most important now.

It’s selfish and silly, but maybe Mobius wants some of that optimism too.

“Loki, you could have stopped somewhere. I’m sure there’s another timeline that’s close enough -”

“No.”

Mobius swallows hard. Because with Sylvie in the wind and the void out of reach, the only thing in this timeline that Loki might even bother caring about is him.

Mobius knows he’s a smart enough guy, knows a lot about Loki’s, good at piecing things together most of the time. But thinking that Loki might have traveled for eons looking just for him is a bridge too far, no matter how the cards line up.

“There were probably other variants of me,” Mobius says and watches Loki stiffen. Another card in the line. “Maybe more agreeable ones. Prettier ones. Hey, did any have a jetski?”

He says it to get a smile. What he doesn’t expect is the absolute glower that paints Loki’s face, or the way they shift it toward Mobius like they might light him on fire next.

“You cannot be replaced,” Loki says, serious as a heart attack.

“Huh.” Another card falls into place. Mobius thinks of the long line of them, and knows he can’t ignore them anymore. Doesn’t want to. “Careful,” he says, prodding. “A guy might get the wrong idea.”

“Mobius,” Loki says, and they puff themselves up like they might say something more. But then they sigh and look back to the monitor.

Mobius doesn’t think he’s wrong about this, but he’d never push Loki, not in this. So he looks at the monitor too.

More and more branching. Imminent death, certainly.

Beside him, Loki speaks softly, “Is it so terrible a proposal? The idea of you and me?”

“I guess it depends who you ask.” In his chest, Mobius’s heart hammers, but he forces calm cheer to steady his voice. “If you ask me, no. Not terrible. The opposite of that, actually. Great. Fantastic. Amazing. Best idea of your life, and I know you’ve had plenty.” He shrugs. “But like I said, depends who you ask.”

“I...” They clear their throat, and when they speak again, it’s stronger. “I would agree.”

“With which part?” Mobius dares a glance at Loki and finds them staring back.

“All of it.” Their smile returns. “End of all things. Not the best time to start a courtship.”

“I disagree.” Mobius turns toward them. “Sounds like a great first date.”

Loki laughs, and Mobius feels lighter. The optimism is contagious.

Mobius holds out his hand and Loki takes it. They step closer. Closing their eyes, they press their cheek to Mobius’s. They whisper, “I will not be parted from you again.”

Mobius’s chest clenches tightly. “Exactly how many timelines did you go through, Loki?”

“Too many,” Loki says into Mobius’s ear. “But not near half of what I would, to return to you.”

Mobius rests a hand on Loki’s hip. “You must really like this folksy dope.”

Loki hums again, less lost ice cream, more fake consideration for a question you already know the answer to. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

“Please do.”

Loki noses the corner of Mobius’s neck and jaw. Mobius closes his eyes, certain he’s going to like this secret.

Assured, when Loki says, “I love him.”

The timelines continue to branch. They should probably care about that. And they will.

In a minute or two.

But first -

Mobius turns his head toward Loki and Loki kisses him.

[elisela]

above the ground (ao3) buck x eddie, 1.3k, domestic fluff, trees of vermont for the second day of @eddiediaz‘s birthday week celebration!

--

The first time Eddie catches Buck staring up at the trees in the backyard he’s just finished pulling all the yellow tile out of their bathroom, plaster dust still coating his arms. Buck had heaved a box full of the cracked clay into the outdoor garbage can, turned to walk back to the house, and just—stopped. “You good?” he asks, and Buck visibility shakes himself out of his reverie.

“Yep,” he says, glancing down at Eddie’s empty hands. “Was that the last of it?”

“Still another pile,” Eddie says, and follows behind him when Buck claps him on the shoulder and pushes past him on the way back into the house.

--

The second—and third—time they’re barbecuing. Or, well, they aren’t, but Bobby is, taking over their backyard because theirs is being reseeded. Eddie’s not doing much of anything; the kids are running around the yard, Buck and Chim are in the middle of dragging Bobby’s patio table over so they all have places to sit, Karen is swatting at Athena’s hand when she reaches into the salad bowl to pinch an olive between her fingers.

Buck drops into the chair next to him after the table placement is approved by Hen, threading their fingers together with an easy sigh and accepting the cold bottle Eddie hands him gratefully. His head is tipped back, eyes trained on the far corner of the yard, one of the corners of his mouth pinched thoughtfully.

“Planning something?” Eddie says, because he knows that look. That’s the look that caused them to strip and restain all the hardwood floors downstairs the weekend before, the look that preceded Buck’s proposal that they rip out the out-of-place island in the kitchen, take out the crappy wire shelving in the pantry and replace it with wood, and while they’re at it, Buck’s never liked the placement of the refrigerator anyway.

“Maybe,” Buck says. He sounds far away, and Eddie wonders what havoc he’ll bring to the house now.

“Cool,” is all he says. There hasn’t been anything Buck’s done that he hasn’t liked—fish scale tile in Christopher’s bathroom aside, because that was one hundred percent his son’s choice. “You know where the credit card is.”

--

In retrospect, he shouldn’t have been surprised when he comes home a week later and there’s a pile of lumber sitting in the corner of the backyard.

--

The plans for the treehouse are stretched across Buck’s desk, and Eddie runs his fingers over the detailed sketch, the trunk of the tree it’s all built around. If he’s reading it right, it’s meant to be just fifteen feet off the ground, an octagonal structure with a deck that faces the backyard, an enclosed room at the back, a staircase that spirals up to it.

“I would have put it up higher, but I had to work around city ordinances,” Buck says from behind him. He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely over his chest. “That’s as tall—and as big—as I could make it without applying for waivers.”

“This is amazing,” Eddie says, glancing back at the plans. “I didn’t even know Chris wanted a treehouse.”

Buck huffs out a laugh. “Well,” he says, “he hasn’t said anything to me, either. But one of his classmates was talking about backyard camping and how cool it would be to have a treehouse to live in during the summer, and the look on Chris’ face—I just thought it would be pretty easy to give him.”

Eddie’s going to marry this man. “You need help with it?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure when we’ll get started. I called an arborist—don’t look impressed, it was Bobby’s idea, he said we should get the whole yard checked before any more trees decide to crash through the roof—and I’m waiting to schedule with them. Don’t wanna start building before I know if the tree can hold it.”

“Chris is gonna be thrilled,” Eddie says. “But I hope you know that you’re the one sleeping out there with him. I’ve done my time sleeping outdoors.”

Buck laughs and pulls him close. “He’s almost eight, Eds. Let him and Denny go out on their own, and we can have some fun in here.”

Eddie pauses, hands on Buck’s warm, solid side. “You know he’s gone for the next few hours, right?”

Buck still closes the door behind them.

--

Maybe Eddie should be over a shirtless and sweaty Buck, but it’s a sight he never wants to drag his eyes away from. The last weeks of summer have been blisteringly hot, so naturally Buck decided that it would be the best time to build.

Eddie has no complaints—except when Chim starts calling him over to help.

They’d started early, driving a rented lift into the backyard just after sunrise so they could get the frame built out around the tree. Eddie had done his part by staying out of the way and making sure there were enough bagels to satisfy even Buck’s insatiable hunger, picking up lunch from Bobby’s when they took a mid-day break, and was about to disappear again when Chim called his name.

“Eddie,” he says, hands on his hips fifteen feet up, straddling two of the cross-sections that radiate from around the tree, “getting the base down would go a lot faster if you could hoist the planks up to us.”

In the end, Eddie is almost as sweaty as they are, arms pleasantly sore in a way they haven’t been in a very long time.

The build takes three days; they finish the round base and railing on the first day, the staircase takes them all of Sunday, and Buck is antsy all week, never getting home early enough to get started on the enclosed section without losing the light. Christopher walks up the stairs daily, spreading himself out on the base and laughing when Eddie aims the hose up at him.

Buck’s up at daybreak the next weekend, the sound of hammering waking Eddie from what had been a good dream. He’d made Eddie promise not to let Chris watch the progress, so as soon as Chim knocks on the door, Eddie takes Chris and leaves, spends the day running errands and waiting for Buck to give them the all clear, a text that doesn’t arrive until it’s nearly dinner time.

He picks up pizza on his way home, tries not to laugh at the way Chris bypasses the front door and goes immediately around the side of the house, yelling for Buck as he does. Eddie slows his steps—he knows Buck and Chris are already bonded, that they love being around each other, but he wants to give them a moment that’s just for them after Buck has done something so incredibly huge for his son.

Chris is already in the enclosed section when he makes his way up the staircase, and it’s nothing like he had imagined. This isn’t the cheap, hastily built treehouses he’d seen while looking for houses—it’s like a log cabin up in a tree, and although he can see the exhaustion in Buck’s body as he walks around with Chris, the only expression on his face is the excitement that’s mirrored on Christopher’s.

“Buck says we can sleep up here tonight!” Chris says excitedly, tugging on his hand. “I’m gonna go pack my stuff!”

--

“Air mattresses are less comfortable than I remembered,” Buck says much later that night, after Chris had already dropped off to sleep. “Maybe we should get real beds in here.”

“Maybe you were right about letting him be on his own,” Eddie says, linking their fingers together. It’s far from the worst place he’s slept, but Eddie’s a creature of comfort now. “We can give them walkies to check in. I’m calling Hen first thing tomorrow.”

[arcticguk]

santa baby | knj

❅ pairing, au, warnings: kim namjoon x reader, fluff, allusions to smut, angst, emotionally and verbally abusive parents, swearing, fake dating au, best friends to lovers au, christmas au

❅ précis: you ask namjoon to be your pretend boyfriend for the holidays.

❅ word count: 4,667

❅ part of my holiday drabble series

❅ a/n: pls lmk if u need me to tag anything extra! i put stuff in the warnings, but do not hesitate to tell me if it’s not enough. also we’re gonna ignore the fact that this fic is so much longer than any of my other xmas ones :)

“Namjoon, please?”

“No.” He says firmly, shoving another spoonful of noodles into his mouth. “If this is the only reason you invited me to dinner, I’ll stop coming.”

You snort, loudly. “Like that’ll ever happen. You can’t cook for shit.”

He frowns, setting his fork down beside his near-empty bowl. “And if I do this for you, what will I get in return?”

“Besides my lovely friendship?” You smirk, earning a glare from Namjoon. “I’ll make you dinner every night for a month.”

He presses his lips together, contemplating. “Sold!”

You roll your eyes playfully, flicking his forehead.

“Hey now!” He scolds. “Is that any way to treat your fake boyfriend?”

Your family was very big on appearance. They didn’t care that you sister and her husband practically hated each other, as long as they plastered on fake smiles and put on a good show in front of everyone. They didn’t care that your little brother and his boyfriend had been broken up for two months, they paid the boyfriend to come to a family event and pretend to be infatuated with your brother for one night.

You’d showed up solo to Christmas in the past, but according to your parents, this year was important. They were throwing a huge Christmas Eve party with all of their friends, coworkers, and extended family. They’d made it very clear that if you weren’t going to show up with someone, then you might as well just not show up at all.

And you knew you should just say fuck it and not go. That’s what your brother was doing, but deep down, as much as you hate to admit it, you still crave your parents’ validation and praise.

Namjoon knows how rocky your relationship with your parents is, that’s why he was so against the idea in the first place, but here you were, packing for a trip home with your ‘boyfriend’.

“Okay, we need a backstory.” Namjoon says from the passenger seat. Reaching for the coffee in your cupholder to steal a sip. “Like how we met and started dating.”

“Wait!” He perks up. “Do your parents know that we’re friends? Because then we could say we were friends and then fell for each other or—”

You cut him off with a sharp shake of your head. “No, they don’t know. I don’t tell them very much about what goes on in my life.”

“Okay.” He says softly.

You crack a smile, biting your lip to keep tears at bay, ones you didn’t even realize had formed.

“So, this backstory huh?”

Namjoon grabs both his duffel and yours, helping you shoulder your backpack as he does the same. You take a shaky breath before slamming the car door shut. Namjoon reaches for your hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“Five days,” He breathes in your ear. “You’ve got this.”

You squeeze his hand in thanks, pocketing your keys with your other hand. “Let’s go then?”

You and Namjoon make your way up the front walk, observing the perfectly decorated façade of the house, something you know your parents paid good money for. Before you can ring the bell, the door is yanked open, both your mother and father standing there to greet you.

“___!” Your mother chirps, pulling you in for a hug. She squeezes for a second before letting you go, prompting your father to do the same.

“And who is this handsome young man?” Your mother wonders.

“This is Namjoon.” You swallow. “My boyfriend.”

Your mother smiles, clasping her hands together underneath her chin. “Oh, how wonderful!” She squeaks. “You didn’t tell me you were dating anyone.”

You shrug helplessly. “I wanted to surprise you!”

“And what a lovely surprise it is.”

“So, tell me again why we have to change for dinner?” Namjoon wonders, buttoning his grey shirt. You fluff your hair once more before turning to smirk at Namjoon.

“Because, everything in this family is an event.” You say sarcastically, giggling. He laughs, wiping his palms on his dress pants.

“You did great by the way,” You comment, sliding silver hoops into your ears. “I think they love you already.”

He looks at you, admiring the way your chiffon jumpsuit fits you, how great the black material looks against your skin.

“Joon?” You wonder, ripping him out of his daze.

“What? Oh, thanks.” He smiles.

“Hmm.” You grin, reaching up to fix a piece of his hair. He’d recently dyed it black and you were obsessed, you can’t get over how good it looks on him.

“You ready for dinner?” You wonder, reaching for his hand.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He sighs, pasting on a smile, gripping your hand tightly with his own.

As you make your way down the grand staircase, leading Namjoon, you smile with ease, surprised at the calm in your being. Family dinners always filled you with dread but having your best friend by your side seemed different, less scary.

When everyone is seated at the large, mahogany table, you start on your salad, taking a sip of water. For most of the meal, your parents focus their attention on Namjoon, peppering him with questions about his job, his education, and childhood.

Namjoon smoothly transitions the conversation back to your parents, wondering; “If ___ told you about her big promotion at work?”

Your mother’s gaze shifts to you, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “That’s great sweetheart, congratulations.” You smile at the praise, your face warming bashfully.

After dinner and dessert, you and Namjoon bid a goodnight to your parents, sister, and your brother-in-law, before heading up to your bedroom.

“Are family dinners,” Namjoon starts, tugging his shoes off, once your door is shut, “usually that tense?”

You nod solemnly, removing all your jewelry and pulling out the elastic from your hair. “You really impressed them though!” You exclaim. “And that’s not easy to do.” You mumble, looking down at your feet.

“I’m sure it is for you.” He laughs. How could your parents not be impressed by his beautiful, intelligent, kind, and brilliant best friend.

You shrug, pulling some clothes to sleep in from your bag. “I’m gonna change then the bathroom’s all yours.”

He nods, taking the opportunity to change into his own sleepwear, setting his watch on the dresser, and setting his phone on the charger.

When you emerge from the bathroom, clad in a hoodie and matching sweatpants, Namjoon smiles softly, switching with you so he can wash his face and brush his teeth.

When he exits the bathroom, you’re working your dinner outfit onto a hanger before placing it in the closet.

You flick the overhead lights off, turning on one of the bedside lamps to cast the room with a warm glow. Namjoon awkwardly stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“I can sleep on the floor.” He speaks up. You give him a look, arching an eyebrow.

“Joon, don’t be silly,” You comment. “It’s a king size bed.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He smiles, gingerly sliding into the bed, tugging the covers over his lap. You smile, doing the same, pulling out your phone to watch something while Namjoon opens a thick novel from his bag. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, each doing something separate while together. It’s not awkward, in fact just the opposite. The space surrounding you and Namjoon is comfortable, calm, and it feels nice.

Namjoon learns that breakfast is the only meal where it is acceptable to dress down. After informing him that pajamas, are in fact, allowed when he’d gone to get dressed. After you slide into your slippers, he wraps an arm around your waist, letting you drag him down the stairs just as you had the night before.

You and Namjoon are the first people to arrive at the table, so you scoot your chair extra close to his, giggling when he stumbles getting into his chair. His smile dimples his pink cheeks, a sight that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

Your head is nestled in the crook of his neck, cheeks warm with laughter, giggles escaping your lips at the story Namjoon finished telling you. Namjoon’s lips are parted in a wide grin, one arm flung loosely around the back of your chair, the other one resting on your thigh. When your laughter has subsided, you nuzzle further into his neck, sighing heavily. Namjoon’s hand cradles the back of your head, lips near your ear.

“You doin’ okay?” He wonders softly. You nod against his neck. You reach for his free hand, squeezing it tightly with your own.

“I’m fine.” You breathe. “Just a little on edge.”

He nods in understanding, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

It was not unusual for you and Namjoon to be affectionate with each other, but this morning, butterflies were flapping in your stomach, the way Namjoon is treating you borders on couple territory.

“Well look who’s up!”

The warm, soft atmosphere Namjoon had created for you, vanishes when you hear your mother’s voice, your shoulder’s tensing, head whipping around.

“Hi, hey, good morning.” You stumble, moving you chair back to its normal spot, putting some space between you and Namjoon.

“Good morning.” Namjoon greets with a dimpled smile. He reaches for your hand underneath the table, giving it a big squeeze.

You smile at the small show of affection and squeeze back.

Your parents wait until your sister and her husband have joined at the table, taking their seats directly across from Namjoon and you.

“Orchid!” Your mother says, speaking directly to your older sister. “You should’ve seen Namjoon and ___, when we first came down.” She smiles motioning at the two of you. “They were all over each other.”

Your sister looks to you, eyebrows raised.

“We weren’t, I don’t—” You flounder for words in your haste, Namjoon smoothly cutting you off as he puts his arm around the back of your chair.

“It’s hard not to be when you’re with someone as wonderful as ___.” Namjoon chirps. You step on his foot under the table.

“Cheesy much?” You wonder, quiet, but still loud enough for the other members of the table to hear you.

“Only for you honey.” He produces a megawatt smile before pecking a kiss to your temple.

Your mother practically falls out of her seat swooning, but not before giving a pointed look to Orchid and her husband, Sungmin.

That was what your mother did. She pitted the two of you against each other, pulled out your insecurities and served them out on a silver platter. Orchid and Sungmin were on the brink of divorce, of course they aren’t affection with each other. You were just waiting for your mother to sink her claws into you.

“Oh but ___, did you hear about Orchid’s big case?” She wonders, a vile smile creeping up her face. “It’s very important and her boss has entrusted her with handling it. I have no doubts she’ll win.”

“That’s great Orchid.” You smile. “Congratulations.” You feel genuine warm feelings towards your sister, your shitty childhood making your relationship stronger. Orchid had often held you when you cried and let you sleep in her bed when you were really upset after something your mother had said.

“And ___,” Your mother shifts her attention fast enough to make your head spin. “How’s work?”

“It’s great.” You manage through gritted teeth.

“She actually just got a promotion.” Namjoon smiles. “Like I said last night, its super exciting.” You don’t miss the little dig at your mother, and you suppress the urge to laugh. He grins proudly and you can’t help but smile a little. Namjoon had been the most supportive person in your life ever since he came into, overwhelmingly proud when you became got your degree and again when you got your first serious job.

“I’ve never understood how people can find joy in accounting.” Your mother spits. “It seems boring and there’s so many numbers.”

“Actually,” You pipe up. “It’s very interesting and you can really—”

“Still, I could never do it.” She cuts you off sharply.

“___ is incredibly intelligent.” Namjoon speaks again, eyes locking right on your mother’s. “It’s not boring for her. Although I could see how it could be for those who don’t understand numbers as well.”

Your mother’s jaw drops just the slightest, before she shuts her mouth, arms falling helplessly to her lap. You could kiss Namjoon right there, no one’s ever gotten your mother to shut up like that and you revel in it.

Once your mother has composed herself, she clears her throat, gaining the attention of everyone, yet again.

“So Namjoon, what do you do?”

“I’m a writer.” He answers, posture tall and confident, his eyes right on hers again.

“That’s lovely.” She comments. “Did you know that Sungmin is a doctor?”

“I did not.” He says politely. “That’s a very admirable job.”

“So is writing!” Sungmin pipes up. “I’ve always wished I had a talent with words like that. I used to pay my friends in university to write papers for me.”

Namjoon chuckles at that, smiling.

“Namjoon writes for a magazine in our city and he does some freelance stuff for big companies too.” You say proudly and he grins at you.

“That’s awesome man,” Sangmin comments. “I’d love to read some of your stuff sometime.”

“Yeah, I can—”

“But surely writing can’t be as fulfilling as a doctor. Nothing can beat saving lives.”

Everyone straightens grimly, all smiles disappearing.

“Remember I’m a general care physician, I don’t perform major surgeries.” Sungmin smiles awkwardly.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t save lives baby.” Orchid coos, setting her hand on his forearm. “But no career is better than another.” She comments, looking directly at your mother. “Every job is important, and everyone has different things they’re passionate about.” She looks at Namjoon now. “And I think writing is wonderful. You must be really smart.” You smile at your sister in thanks and she winks.

Your mother just scoffs, finally deciding to be quiet and eat her breakfast.

That was really…intense.” Namjoon sighs, tugging a clean crewneck over his head. You look up from the mirror where you’re rubbing moisturizer into your skin.

“Hmm.” You hum in agreement. “I’m so sorry by the way. The way my mother treated you was unacceptable.”

“It’s okay.” He answers honestly. When he sees your frown deepen, he sets his hands on your cheeks.

“___. I promise you it’s fine.”

“I just feel bad. It’s bad enough you had to come here and do this but now my mother is insulting your career and—”

His thumb nudges your chin, prompting you to stop talking. “First of all, I didn’t have to come here okay? I chose to be here. And second, you are not accountable for the things that mother says. She’s not nice to you either.” He reminds you with a soft smile.

“Thank you.” You say simply. He kisses the top of your head before scrounging his suitcase for his Converse. “Okay, I’m making an executive decision for us.” You state, flopping down onto the bed. His eyebrow quirks in curiosity, smiling, encouraging you to go on.

“We’re going out.” You announce. “I can show you my hometown, we can go shopping, get food. And if we time it right, we won’t have to be here for lunch or dinner.”

“I like the way you think.” He smirks, winking as he laces up his sneakers.

You’re a little buzzed from the spiced cider you had at dinner, giggling when Namjoon helps you out of the car, one arm already full of bags from the purchases you’d both made that day.

One of the things you loved about coming home, was getting to visit all the little shops and restaurants that were set up in town. You and Namjoon spent the day supporting your local small businesses and you couldn’t have been happier. It was a great way to spend time with your best friend—and get away from your parents.

You lean into him as you make your way up the front walk, giggling again when he trips on the cobblestone, his stature pitching forward before he catches himself.

Your parents and sister are lounging in the front room, your parents seated on the large sofa, your sister and Sungmin across from them on the loveseat.

“___, Namjoon, come join us!” Your mom suggests cheerfully, a glass of red wine resting in her hand.

“Okay,” Namjoon nods. “Let us take these bags upstairs and we’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you up the staircase, hand on your lower back.

“We probably should hang out for a bit,” You comment. “We haven’t seen them all day.”

Namjoon nods in agreement, taking the bags from your hands, setting them in the closet alongside his suitcase.

“Lemme just change,” You say, peeling your sweater over your head, eliciting a blush on Namjoon’s cheeks, his head ducking down.

You trade your sweater and jeans for a hoodie and Christmas-themed pajama pants, heading into the bathroom to scrub off your makeup while Namjoon changes into sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Your parents look up when you reenter, smiling softly when they see the way you’ve nuzzled yourself into Namjoon’s side.

“Oh! Look what we put up earlier!” Orchid comments, pointing to the doorframe right above you and Namjoon.

Mistletoe.

“Oh, ha ha.” Namjoon chuckles awkwardly, his face heating up once again.

“Come on lovebirds,” Your sister laughs. “Give us a little show.”

“Gross Orchid.” You mumble, glaring right at her.

“You have to!” Your mother giggles. “It’s the rules.”

Namjoon looks like he wants to melt into the floor, scratching the back of his neck.

You aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol that’s lingering in your body, or how cute your best friend looks with his red cheeks, but something fills you with confidence, and you squish his warm cheeks with your hands, pressing a hard kiss to his pouted lips.

Your parents laugh and cheer, Orchid clapping good-naturedly. When you pull away from Namjoon, his eyes are wide, puffy lips parted in astonishment.

“So, this is it huh?” Namjoon wonders, straightening the red tie around his neck, which not-so-coincidentally matched the exact shade of your cocktail dress. “The big party.”

“Yup.” You nod, double checking your makeup in the mirror.

To say Namjoon was nervous about the Christmas Eve party, was an understatement. He was freaking out. He wants to make a good impression on everyone, in hopes that he can sell the lie the two of you have been living the past few days.

“You’ll be fine.”

He nods, swallowing harshly. He doesn’t admit it to you, but the party isn’t the only thing making him uneasy. You had never talked about last night, after you had kissed him, everything went on as usual, as if it never happened.

You slip into your heels, giving him a small smile.

“Alright,” You sigh softly, taking his arm. “Party time.”

You swallow another sip of champagne, gripping tightly to Namjoon’s arm. He had survived all of the introductions, and unsurprisingly, everyone loved him.

Dinner had already been served, and everyone was mingling, upbeat holiday music filtering through the speaker system, champagne and wine flowing easily.

Your parents were talking to some clients from your mother’s interior design firm, and you know without listening that she’s talking about you and Orchid.

That’s the thing about your mom—she’ll criticize every decision you make, but in front of everyone else she plays the proud, devoted parent, bragging about all of your accomplishments, as if she had anything to do with them.

Namjoon senses your discomfort and he nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head. The wine he’d been drinking had earlier served as liquid courage, but now that he was relaxed, he was just sleepier and cuddlier than usual.

“You okay?” He murmurs, lips at your ear. You nod robotically, leaning against his shoulder. Obviously, you’re not okay and he knows that, so he takes your hand, leading you outside to the back patio for a moment of fresh air.

Noticing the chill on your skin and the shiver in your movements, he drapes his suit jacket over your shoulders, wrapping an arm around you.

“You’re not okay.” He whispers. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s just,” You sigh, leaning into his embrace. “My mother. She’s so critical and finds fault in everything we do, yet when it comes to appearances and other people, she has nothing but good things to say.” You bite your lip to hold back the tears that fill your eyes, looking out into the wooded backyard. “If she really is proud, then why can’t she ever tell us?”

“Oh honey,” Namjoon frowns.

“It just feels like nothing I ever do is good enough. I work hard, I did well in school, but it’s like it’s not good enough. Why do I care so much about my parents’ approval, why can’t I just be proud of myself because I’ve done well?”

You don’t stop the tears from falling, splattering onto your cheeks and no doubt making tracks in your carefully applied makeup.

“I’m sorry.” Namjoon whispers. “I’m so sorry that you feel this way. I’m insanely proud of you and I wish you could see how wonderful you are, so deserving of love and praise.”

“I love you.” You blurt, the words spilling so easily from your lips, with a little help from the champagne in your system.

“Oh,” He smiles. “I love you too, you know th—”

“No Namjoon, I love you.” You murmur.

Something sparks in his eyes, you don’t see the way his demeanor changes, as he realizes what these feelings were—are. Spending all this time with you has made him feel different, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on the feeling. But now, he knows, he loves you too.

“Can we go upstairs?” You wonder. “I’m so tired, I can’t be down here anymore, I just want—”

He cuts you off with a nod, taking your hand and letting you lead him to the back staircase, so you can escape without anyone seeing you.

Once the door is closed—and locked, you fling off your heels, flopping onto the bed. You drag your ring finger under your eyes, in attempt to collect the mascara clumps that washed off your eyelashes with the tears you’d shed.

“I love you too.” Namjoon announces, throwing his tie and shoes in a pile before standing over you. “God, I love you so much. I never realized how I feel, but now I know and—”

You cut him off with a press of your lips on his, hands grabbing for his shoulders and pulling him down. His lips melt into yours, returning the kiss with more fervor, mouth warm and soft.

You’re gripping on his shirt, clawing at the buttons when he pulls back slightly, running a hand through his damp locks, slicking it up onto his head.

“H-honey,” He starts, stumbling over his words a little. “I don’t know if we should be doing this right now.”

“What?” You pout, sitting up. “Why not? Do you not—”

“No, no, no, trust me I want to.” He sighs. “But you’re upset, we’ve been drinking…” He trails off and you whine.

“Joon please, I want this, I want you, I love you.” You frown, setting a hand on his cheek.

He looks into your eyes, searching for an ounce of hesitation. When he doesn’t find any, he you pull him back down, hovering above your form.

“Are you sure?” He murmurs, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“Positive.” With your affirmation, he presses his lips to your own, lightly tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.

He breathes in the groan that passes through your lips, sighing deliciously. After Namjoon’s tie is crumpled on the floor and a failed attempt at the buttons on his shirt, you tug on each side until it releases, the fabric literally ripping before you toss it away.

Namjoon only chuckles, shifting positions so that you can straddle his lap. Your hands grip his hair, exhaling when his lips meet the skin on your neck.

“I love you.” He simpers, lips behind your ear. “I love you so damn much.”

When you wake up the next morning, something’s changed. Not only between you and Namjoon—who’s currently cuddled into your side—but also the way you feel about yourself.

“Joonie,” You coo, tousling his hair. “Joon wake up, it’s Christmas.”

“Mmm, morning Christmas,” He murmurs sleepily. He nuzzles his face into your neck, eyelids falling shut.

“Namjoon,” You whisper. “C’mon. Let’s get up.”

“Please?” He whines. “Can we please sleep for a little longer before we have to go down there?”

“No Joonie, we’re going home.” You push back the covers and climb out of the bed, cold air flushing your skin.

His head snaps up, eyes perking up. “What?!”

“We’re leaving.” You announce, sliding on his t-shirt from two nights ago. “Unless, you want to stay?” You tease, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll start packing now!” He gets out of bed, pressing a kiss to your cheek before grabbing some fresh clothes and entering the bathroom.

You dress and pack up your belongings, so that when Namjoon is ready, you are too.

The two of you hold hands down the stairs, leaving your bags by the doorway before venturing into the kitchen.

“Good morning!” Your mother chirps. “Merry Christmas!”

“Hey guys.” You greet awkwardly.

“Come, sit down—have some breakfast, then we’ll open gifts.”

“Actually Mom,” You breathe. “We’re leaving.”

“What!?”

“Namjoon and I are going to go home.”

“Absolutely not, sit down.”

“No Mom. I don’t wanna be here anymore. I thought now that I’m grown up you would actually treat me with an ounce of respect, but I was wrong.”

“Excuse me?” Your mother snaps.

“Come on honey, let’s just go.” Namjoon urges, squeezing your hand tightly. You shake your head, squeezing his hand back.

“Before we leave I have something to say, and you’re going to listen to me.” You tell your mother, tone firm yet gentle. “For my entire life I’ve taken shit from you. The verbal abuse, emotional abuse, all the digs, all the criticism. Nothing I ever did was good enough for either of you and I’m done with it. I’m happy with who I am, what I do, and who I choose to spend time with. I’m done trying to impress you, this is my life, not yours. I am more than good enough and shame on you for not seeing it.”

You take a shaky breath wiping the single tear that fell down your face while you were speaking.

“And you Dad?” You add, redirecting your gaze. “You never did say anything. Never stood up for us, and God forbid you actually were proud of us without Mom telling you, you were allowed to be.”

Your parents sit there, dumbfounded. You take a moment to catch your breath before turning to look at Namjoon, who is trying very hard to bite back his grin. Orchid’s face is a mixture of admiration and pure joy, mouthing; I’ll call you later.

“Honey, I’m sorry you feel that way.” Your mother manages, thinking for her next words.

You swiftly shake your head.

“I love you both, but we’re leaving.” You smile. “We can work through this, only if you’re willing. But for now, I want to go home and spend Christmas with my boyfriend.”

You and Namjoon turn to leave, collecting your luggage before loading up the car.

“Holy shit.” Namjoon blurts. “That was fucking amazing, I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you.” You smile. “It felt good.” He leans over to kiss you, hand cupping your cheek.

“It was also pretty fucking hot.”

© arcticguk 2020. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

[sunflowerryvol6]

Movement - H.S

Warnings - Angst

WC - 2.4k

Hey! So I promise I don't intend to write such angsty things, but it just came to me! Hope you like it. Feedback is always welcome, and my ask box is open for requests. This might have a part two, but I'm not sure yet, let me know if you would like it. Please like and reblog. I have some more non-angsty ideas, but I'm stuck, so I'll try to work on them and put them out.

Masterlist

Today Mohini sat by the windowsill in her parent's home, silently counting fruits on the mango tree in her neighbours' yard. Teentaal played in the back. Shed, she was doing her warm-ups when she got distracted. The dark green raw mangoes were a clear sign that summer has begun in full swing. She and Harry had come down to India arguably during the worst time of the year. But this was the only time her guru(teacher) could give her the time she needed during the year. Mohini has been up since 5 am in doing stretches for a very strenuous riyaaz by herself before stepping away for class with her teacher.

Harry wasn't awake yet, he usually wakes up by around 7, and she's well into her hour-long tatkar footwork by then. She comes out to the terrace balcony to open up and use the more vacant space for chakkars (pirouettes). She sets her mat down and starts with sun salutations and some prayer. Silently working on arm movements where teentaal plays dimly in the background. She thinks back to how she and Baba would do riyaaz together. She had become a dancer because of him, of course. He was the one that pushed her to pursue her dream to become a dancer. If not for Baba, she'd have never met Harry. The same Harry who was now asleep in the room upstairs, who she doesn't want to wake up so early, which is why she pushes tatkar to the last of her riyaaz. She makes a mental note to tell him all about the time she and Jaya stole mangoes from their neighbours' yard and how she wants to show him how to do it, to recreate that memory in a way. With that thought, she goes back to working on her pirouettes.

He's not really used to the muggy heat in Mumbai, but it's not too unpleasant. They try to avoid stepping out when it's hot anyway. Today he's pleasantly lulled out of sleep by the sound of her ghungroos. This his favourite way to wake up, he thinks. That lights up an idea in his mind. He knows she'll be working on her footwork for a bit. It gave him enough time to scour through his stuff and find his latest purchase, the Exakta RTL 1000. He knew it was the right moment to take it out for a spin. A Photowalk was due, but with their conflicting schedules, they hadn't ventured into town yet. Staying close by in the suburbs, so Mohini could help out with her dance teachers classes. They did have plans to explore the city, maybe go away for the weekend, but hadn't been in a rush. They were here all throughout the Indian summer and some of the monsoon. He slowly walked down the stairs, camera in hand, ventured out into the balcony where he knew the music was coming from. He could hear her feet patter away to the rhythm of the music. Looking at her right now, he's taken back to the first time he'd seen her at the dance studio a few years ago. He'd been there rehearsing for treat people with kindness music video, and she was in the studio room right next to his, blasting Fineline. It had really caught him by surprise, so he wanted to see who was playing the music. He was met with Mohini at her finest, in a red flowy cotton tunic and loose linen pants, she had these gold bells tied to her ankles that he now knows are called ghungroos. She was performing to his song, easy to say he was in awe. The way she moved effortlessly to the music, was really a treat to watch. He stood by the door and watched her perform to the whole 6 minute song, tearing up by end at intensity and fervour her performance exuded. He knew then that he was done for. After watching her for so long, he felt obligated to tell her how much he loved it. He approached her, only for her to get really startled and then upset that he was eavesdropping. He apologised of course, but he was expecting her to recognise him, considering the song, you know? Turns out, her friend had hooked her up to a gig at an art gallery in London to do an experimental piece; and she also suggested the song. Mohini really had no clue about him. What were the odds that she would run into this international pop star in a beat-up studio in Hampstead? But that's precisely what happened. He asked her if he could attend this said performance since it was his song and all. She reluctantly agreed and told him where it was. He went there the next week, in a poor disguise, to catch the least attention possible. But he needn't have done that, because nobody cared who he was, at Akademi Dance, they were there for her. They watched in awe, tearing up just like he did that same week. He didn't need a better sign. It was love at first sight, really, at least for him. He called Jeff after that performance and had his management contact her. It wasn't that hard. She was very known with the south Asian classical dance community but tough to book. So he went back to that studio in hopes of finding her there. Today he's not ashamed to admit, that he went there consistently for 2 weeks before she showed up, surprised to see him there. He told her what he had in mind.

Today that's known as one of the most viewed classical meets western ballad performance. They had to contact the gallery to erase any trace of that performance. Mohini rechoreographed it to the music, with Harry and his inputs, though they were very few, if at all. With his audience, she had dance companies contacting from all over the world. But all Moh wanted was to stay in London and teach. The one thing he hopes, she remembers fondly, is her falling in love with him during that project. Rest is history. He went on tour for the album. She continued teaching, performing a fair bit. The two met up at different venues, depending on where the other person was.

The morning sun hitting her just right, sweat glistening her face and chest. She had a thin gold chain with an H pendant around her neck which swayed as she moved. Her hair was slightly damp, likely from the heat and her practice. Mohini's side was facing him. She was wearing a light pink tunic with loose white linen pants. He was waiting for her to turn so he could quickly capture the elation on her face that he knows is there when she's practising. "Moh! Why don't yeh give me dazzle?"

She turns when she hears Harry, quickly covering her face with her palms. "H! I'm so sweaty right now! Stop it!" she's laughing now. Having stopped dancing, he chases her around the balcony getting as many photos of her as he could. He stops when he's cornered her at the edge. Her back hit the rim of the balcony, she leaning outwards. He puts the camera on the table where her speakers are placed and locks her within his hold. Both hands on either side of her waist, she's breathing heavily now, adrenaline coursing through her. He slowly moves one finger to swipe the sweat that gathered on her exposed chest. Her breath hitches at that, taking in the look in his eyes, but she knows she can't back away now, so she takes charge, grabbing him by his face, inching closer to kiss him. Just when he thinks she's going to kiss him, she leans forward and gently nibbles on his ear, which has his knees weak. She whispers, "Think we should smoke that blunt, Jaya got us last week", and ducks under his arm, laughing as she runs back into the house. "I'll get yeh back fo' that, Moh! Just wait yeh little minx," shaking his head smiling.

That evening, Moh and Harry brought out the works. She only smoked when she felt the tension to release some of that pent up energy. Harry will use any excuse to spend some time with this girl, knowing he wouldn't get any time with her this summer. They were here for her work, after all. So he pulled out all the stops for the night, went out and got her favourite snacks, whipped up some quick salad for dinner, knowing they would be gorging on munchies. He set up a blanket on the balcony floor, brought out all the food while she showered upstairs. He had been working on some writing and recording today. They brought a bunch of their recording equipment along, so Harry could set up in her dad's study. Ever since her parents passed, her home in Bombay laid vacant for her to use whenever she pleased. Coming home to an empty house had been hard for her last year, but Harry had been there by her side through everything. Cleaning out all the supplies, arranging things, throwing out old items and keeping things that would remind her of her parents. He made it home for her that year. So when she was asked by her teacher to spend the summer here, she readily agreed because Harry would be with her, and going back home wouldn't feel so morose. The first week had just been setting up the house to their liking. They were just about getting comfortable around the house. Somehow Harry knew the terrace balcony was special for her, so that's where he'd set up their make-shift date night. She walked in, wet hair from her shower dripping all over. She was wearing one of his loose t-shirts and he was lounging in a pair of white shorts. He looked up at her, smiling softly. "How was class today? Is Madhuri doing any better?"

"Yeah, I think so, she is, but she was resting, we did some footwork with the kids, movement exercises and whatnot, and with me, we just went over some of the stuff I'd been working on back home", she smiles.

He sits down, leaning against the railing, and pats the spot next to him, silently motioning her to join him. She does so, reaching her place and leaning in to kiss him on his nose before picking up the joint. She lights it and takes a long drag from it. "I miss baba", she exhales.

He takes the joint from her, "Know yeh do, pet. D'ya want to talk about it?"

"No. I just hadn't said that out loud in so long. Felt like it was eating away at me, y'know?"

"Yeah, know what yeh mean, s'okay though, we can just sit here and take that in for a bit."

"Madhuri Ji, asked me if I'd considered coming back," she said

"Yeah? Well, yeh are here now, and we'll be here all summer." He added

"No, I think she meant moving back here, but I didn't give her an answer yet"

"Are yeh really considering that? Thought we were looking to put the down payment for that house in Chelsea when we went back?" He asked, slightly confused

"Yeah, I mean, we are, but I didn't want to not consider it. I'd be able to help her out with classes more often, work on new projects with artists that I don't get to back home, and just" she pauses ", I just wanted some time to think about it, y'know."

"Okay, well, yeh know I've got to go back after the summer, pet, if you'd like to stay for longer, that's okay, we can figure something out." He sighed. He knew Vrindavan was vital to her. She had too many memories attached to it. She thought she had time with those here, but with her parents passing away in an accident last year, it really took that opportunity away from her. So now she felt cheated of her good memories of her home. He knew she'd want to keep this place, but they'd always talked about settling in London and coming down here for her performances and to meet Madhuri. Something changed her heart, and she seemed unsure of their plan to settle in London.

He kissed her softly and put an arm around her, bringing her close to him, "We'll sort it out, darling. Baba and Ma are going to be with yeh no matter what."

That conversation ended with them lazily passing the joint, munching on the snack laid out. Both of them passed out contently in each other's arms out in the open terrace that night.

Come monsoon that year, Moh decided she wouldn't go back to London, so she sat on her bed, watching the love of her life pack away all his stuff to leave for his home the following day. The yellow light of their room fell on him, which only made him look more beautiful. She realised how much she would miss watching him play her his new songs sitting in the same spot he sat now. Rain poured mercilessly, almost as if Bombay was weeping at the state of their relationship. She didn't want this to end, but she also couldn't leave the only semblance of her father behind. She wanted Harry to stay, desperately hoping he would make it work, but she also knew that wasn't rational. He couldn't fly back and forth so often, it would be detrimental to his health. So she turned her face away to wipe the tears that lined her waterline.

"I wish you'd at least consider coming back with me. If yeh still don' like it there, you can come right back, Moh" his voice shaky, she knew if she listened to him any longer, she wouldn't be able to hold her sobs back. So she looked at him with this vacant look, tears brimming in her eyes. "I'm not ready for that yet, Harry. I don't think I will be. It's not fair to you."

"Okay then, if you change your mind, know I'll be waiting for yeh, pet" he wipes away a lone tear and goes back to packing.

The following day she waves Harry goodbye and rushes to the balcony terrace to watch him go gently twisting the H hanging from her neck. The mangoes are long gone, so is the light from those summer mornings.

[thewitchofbooks]

Hiii gorg I love your style of writing 😳👍 can you maybe write about ikepri suitors in the modem world? Just general stuff like what music would they like or what jobs do you see them working? Anything that you find fit tbh

You're amazing, stay safe and well <3

Hi!!!Thank you for the compliments and the request, i really appreciate it!It took me some time to write for all of them, so i apologize!Please, keep in mind that i don’t know everything about the characters and they might be ooc.I hope you like it~

Type: Headcanons, Modern AU

Game: Ikemen Prince

Characters: All characters

Warnings: Spoilery, characters might be ooc, not the best out there, haha, mentions of alcohol (trigger warning), not the best english (especially with many words).

I’ll write their favourite music, dressing style (both casual and formal), their jobs, their hobbies, their favourite type of food and their favourite drink(s).Keep in mind that these are not all real, i just think they would like these.Thank you!

~Clavis Lelouch

Favourite type of music:Clavis hears anything that sounds good.He can go from pop, to rock, to metal and everything in between.Sometimes, he likes to play songs, like twinkle twinkle little star and he sings it in a childish voice, just to annoy his big bro, Chevalier.Chevalier probably threw a vase full of cold water on him.He would have thrown more, but he doesn’t like wasting precious water for the “laughing clown’s” idiocity.

Dressing style (1~casual):Clavis likes to wear fashionable clothes with lots of twists.He probably wears animal printed clothes and accessories, like a leopard printed hat or coats.For a more casual outfit, he wears a white button up shirt tucked in black skinny jeans and he tops it of with a leather biker-style black jacket (if it’s cold).                                                               (2~formal):For formal wear, he chooses a purple stripped button up shirt with a light grey vest and light grey pants.He puts on a grey long coat to finish it up.

Job:Clavis works as a spy for the Cyber Crime Division.He seems like a maniac to his coworkers, but they know how good he is at what he does.Also, he is good at spying his brother and he sees it as exercise.

Hobbies:Clavis’s hobbies are:drinking smoothies, while spying Chevalier, annoying Chevalier (especially when he is tired) and making things (because he is good with his hands).Clavis doesn’t have a lot of time for himself, but when he does, he makes sure to spend it doing all these things.

Favourite type of food:Clavis loves sweets and junk food.It was a rare treat when he was younger, but now he can eat them.At least, he prefers a healthier version like, fruits on top pf his sweets and salads as side dishes for the food.

Favourite drink(s):This man loves starbucks.He doesn’t drink alcohol due to personal reasons, so he buys them everyday.He buys unicorn coloured drinks & sweets and he tries to give some of them to Cheva.It doesn’t work.

~Chevalier Michel

Favourite type of music:Chevalier listens to classical, rock and metal.He likes songs with deep meaning, because it makes him think/daydream in his free time.He also plays the piano and violin, which got him into classical music.Sometimes, he is forced to here Clavis’s loud stereo, so he hears childish songs and he gets mad.

Dressing style (1~casual):Chevalier wears a white turtleneck shirt, black skinny pants and a long black coat.He also wears black reading glasses.He doesn’t like having a lot of strange addings on his clothes, because he likes being fancy, without being too much.                                 (2~formal):Chevalier chooses suits, which fit perfectly on his body.On top of his suits, he likes wearing black or while long coats and a pair of gloves in the same colour.He always has a golden pin with chains on, which keeps his tie straight and neat.

Job:Cheva works as an Army Strategist and as a Defence Minister.All the people trust him, so they voted for him.He was already a strong man before, but now he became even more, to help protect his country and those in need.

Hobbies:Chevalier, naturaly, loves to read romance novels.His mansion has two rooms as libraries.He also keeps shelves of books in his room.Another thing he likes is learning more and more (languages and other things), because he is fast at learning and they might come in handy.

Favourite type of food:Chevalier doesn’t care much, though he prefers eating foods with a lot of protein and vitamins.He is used to eating mostly these types of food, because of his work.He sometimes eats sweets, but never the unicorn ones Clavis tries to feed him.

Favourite drink(s):Cheva is not a big fan of alcohol.Alcohol has a lot of bad sugars for his health and he also doesn’t like getting drunk.Especially when he works.He drinks plenty of water and tea.

~Luke Randolph

Favourite type of music:Luke listens to pop and classical music.If he likes a song that is different, he is going to hear that as well.He doesn’t really care, but he prefers soft and gentle sounds.

Dressing style (1~casual):Luke picks long green t-shirts with V-Neck as a top and dark purple sweatpants as bottoms.On top of all that, he wears an oversized dark grey jacket.He likes those colours, because they remind him of the forest and nature in general.                                                         (2~formal):Luke wears a grey button up shirt in a pair of grey jeans.He tops it off with a stylish but still comfortable grey jean jacket.

Job:This tall gentleman loves honey, so he decided to work as an apriarist.Not only does he help feed and keep safe as many honey bees as he can, he takes the honey away without hurting them or destroying their houses (beehives).

Hobbies:One of Luke’s hobbies is helping and playing with the forest animals.These animals are drawn to him and want his attention.He puts water and food all over the place, so they can find it easily and get ready for the cold weather.

Favourite type of food:Of course, his favourite food is honey.It had to do with a lot of hard things he went through in his past and he doesn’t want to forget.It’s also sweet and healthy, so he prefers it.He also likes homecooked meals, because they are warm and he feels safe.

Favourite drink(s):Luke’s favourite drinks are tea and milk.These drinks are both warm and sweet (he drowns them in honey).They are perfect for a cold day and a hot day.All the stress goes away and he is calm again.

~Leon Dompteur

Favourite type of music:Leon listens to alternative rock and pop.He likes to dance around in his days off, when he is at home.He goes to a lot of concerts with a few of his brothers to enjoy a night out.The music he hars goes well with his personality and he always has fun.

Dressing style: (1~casual):Leon lives for more casual outfits that are different from the stiff clothes he wears at work.He goes for a black t-shirt that shows his abs and black pants that hug his waist.He is naturally warm, so he believes he doesn’t need a jacket.                                            (2~formal):Leon wears a black turtleneck shirt and black or dark grey pants.Sometimes, he puts on a dark grey suit jacket to look even better.

Job:Leon works with Chevalier as an Army Strategist.He gets well with the soldiers and they follow all his commands.He knows his brother is harsh, but he informs the new soldiers how much he cares for their country.

Hobbies:Leon’s hobby is having fun with his loved ones.He’ll prefer social gatherings and talking with people.He is easy to talk to, so his family gets together because of him.He might enjoy dancing, so he could be ready to impress his lover.

Favourite type of food:Yves’s baking/cooking.Not only does the food he makes tastes good, it’s also very fun to tease him.Sometime, he dines outside.If a person he loves makes food, he’ll eat it without much care if it tastes good.He is happy they did it.

Favourite drink(s):Leon can drink nearly everythinng.He can go from drinking alcohol with Jin, to drinking tea and milk with Luke.He doesn’t want to get drunk, because it’s bad for his job and his health, so he doesn’t do it too much.

~Yves Kloss

Favourite type of music:Yves listens to whatever sounds good and has style.He secretly listens to meme cat meowing his favourite songs.He learns the choreography in every song that has one.If his brotherd catch him doing that, he tries to deny it while blushing.

Dressing style (1~casual):Yves wears skinny black jeans with cuts on the knees and a pink oversized sweater.On top, he wears a grey cardigan.His clothes look big on him and it makes him look cuter.                                    (2~formal):He wears a white button up shirt, tucked in grey pants.He wears different coloured ties, but prefers pink, grey or black ones.He also wears a pink suit jacket.He likes being stylish in everything he does.

Job:Yves works at a pet shop.All the pets that live in here love him.The people that want to buy a animal have to watch him trying to put the animals in their (boxes/the things they put them in when they go somewhere).The animals are cuddling him and pawing at his cheeks.Yves is happy they found a home, but he is also sad, because he liked playing with them (even if that meant getting teased by his brothers).Yves secretly works as a stylist and he sketches clothes for women and men.

Hobbies:Yves hobbies have to do with beauty.He changes hairstyles or he goes shopping for clothes and accessories.He is calming down whenever he does that.Yves also enjoys doing new things, like joining art classes (painting, writing, dancing).

Favourite type of food:Yves loves cakes with fruits on top.He likes it when fresh berries are used to make them.They are not too sweet, but they live a nice taste in his mouth.He eats other foods, of course, because he knows that he has to be healthy.He eats for every meal of the day.He scolds Clavis for his choices and is discusted with his eating habits.He also cooks for himself (and some of his brothers).

~Nokto Klein

Favourite type of music:Nokto listens to pop (because most of the explicit songs he likes are pop).His tastes may change, but it also depends on his mood.If he is in a certain mood, being withh his lover and all, he stays with his normal choices.

Dressing style (1~casual):For a more casual look, he braids one side of his hair and it goes up in a high ponytail.He wears grey skinny jeans and a baby blue t-shirt.If it becomes too cold, he’ll get a white jacket.                    (2~formal):Nokto can go from a total white look to a white and baby blue look.He’ll choose a blue tie, with a white button up shirt and white pants.Nokto will take a white suit jacket on his shoulders and it’s kept on it’s place by a silver chain.

Job:I can see most of the brothers working together, so he’ll probably would be a spy for the Army, set by Chevalier himself.He is not scared to do reckless things and get in trouble.He knows how to keep secrets from the others.

Hobbies:Nokto’s hobbies are learning things about other people and most of all, what his lover enjoys.He likes trying new things with his S/O, that both are comfortable with.Another hobby of his is annoying and teasing his brothers that don’t want that don’t want that type of attention.

Favourite type of food:Nokto enjoys sweet, salty and savoury foods.Of course, there are some that make him feel better than others, so he prefers them.He finds some foods amusing, like the rainbow coloured ones and he wants to try them.

Favourite drink(s):If he is not at work, he likes strong liquor, but when it’s work related he’ll drink something softer and give the strong drinks to his enemies.That doesn’t stop him from enjoying drinks like sodas.Nokto tries Clavis’s favourite drinks, but he isn’t the biggest fan.

~Licht Klein

Favourite type of music:To most, Licht seems like a very quiet guy, but the music he likes isn’t always like that.He listens to every type of rock, pop and hip hop music.He is someone that likes the deep meaning every song has and he always remembers their lyrics.

Dressing style (1~casual):Licht has an angelic face and he knows what goes better with that.He wears a white oversized button up shirt with baby blue buttons in the middle and light blue skinny jeans.                                  (2~formal):For formal wear, Licht chooses a blue-grey suit, a yellow bowtie with a red ruby in the middle.On top, he wears a grey cardigan to keep himself warm.

Job:Licht is a soldier, who is not afraid to lose his life.Just like his twin, he doesn’t care about doing reckless things, because he lives for others, mostly.He doesn’t show that he cares for his brothers, but it can be seen.

Hobbies:For Licht, martial arts is the way to relax.Marial arts are not for fighting and killing someone.The first thing you learn is to keep yourself calm and then safe in front of difficult situations.That’s what Licht likes, so he follows it.Other things Licht likes to do is sing lullabies from his childhood and dance hip hop.

Favourite type of food:Licht absolutely loves sweets.Tarts full of chocolate, berries and other fruits are to die for.Sometimes, he secretly wants to eat Yves’s cakes, so he pouts at him, which always works to his favor.

Favourite type of drink(s):He doesn’t drink too much, he prefers water, tea and milk.First of all, it’s easier to drink them when eating.Second of all, he doesn’t want to get drunk (he doesn’t know if he can hold it).

~Sariel Noir

Favourite type of music:Sariel has gone through so much stress, so he just listens to screamo.If he feels better, he’ll hear to classical music while sipping his tea.He won’t say no to a new beat, but he’ll hear it if he can hear the voice clearly (so he can judge).

Dressing style (1~casual):If Sariel has time to go out without having to care for his work (or babysitting the brothers), he’ll wear a black, long sleeved shirt tucked in a nice pair of black pants.                                         (2~formal):He wears a black button up shirt with a silky red tie.He prefers black suits to go with, which have red details on top.He is stylish and he believes that black goes with everything.

Job:Sariel is a babysitter.Just kidding.He works as a Judge.He is amazing and fast.He knows when people feel guilty and it’s easy to find who is at fault.Definitely takes a lot of painkillers for those headaches.

Hobbies:He plays every classical music instruments when he has free time.He learned to play when he was younger and it always calmed him down.He also enjoys reading books (classic literature).

Favourite type of food:Sariel eats healthy most of the time, but he has cheat days.He can relax and eat sweets and junk food, while watching a movie or eating with company.

Favourite drink(s):Sariel drinks alcohol, not until he is completely wasted.He enjoys drinking if the company is good.But he prefers drinking tea and relaxing by his own.

~Rio Ortiz

Favourite type of music:Rio listens to everything.And by everything, i mean everything.He doesn’t care if the voices are clean or good, he is just happy to have something to hear.If his future S/O has a fave, then it’ll become his fave as well.

Dressing style (1~casual):Rio works a lot of hours a day, so he doesn’t dress too casual.If he can choose, then he wears blue jeans and coloured t-shirts.(Or a pair of pjs.)                                                                                (2~formal):Rio wears coloured button up shirts and black or white pants and a matching jacket.He doesn’t care much about his style, but he is forced when he works.

Job:Rio works as a lawyer, next to Sariel.He is clever and witty.When the other lawyers face him, they think they have to do with a child, but he is fast at gathering iinformation and he uses it against them.That’s the only reason Sariel keeps him.

Hobbies:Rio searches information about new people he meets, just for fun.He also has a puppy, but it mostly stays with close friends.When he is at home, they cuddle together and he feed it with it’s favourite treats.

Favourite type of food:Rio knows how to cook special meals, so he enjoys eating them.If he is too tired, he’ll eat pizza and he’ll later have some cookies to make himself feel better.

Favourite drink(s):He drinks a small amount of alcohol (to drown his pain).He likes drinking nearly all kind of drinks, even the crazy ones, especially if he has good company to share them.

~Jin Grandet

Favourite type of music:Jin listens to pop songs and the songs that are heard in bar-clubs.Sometimes, he hears the songs his brothers send him in the messenger app they all have.

Dressing style (1~casual):Jin wears forest green shirts or t-shirts and black pants or blue jeans.He might wear t-shirts with tie stamps on them.   (2~formal):He rarely wears formal clothes.He thinks they are too stiff and it’s not easy to move his body.Sadly, Leon takes him on gatherings, where he is forced to dress up.Jin tries on dark blue suits and green button up shirts.

Job:Jin is a bartender.It wasn’t because he liked those places.Not only, at least.He has women with big chests to work around the place.Sometimes, he stops his work, just to look and flirt.

Hobbies:His favourite hobby is staring at chests and have Clavis next to him, telling him that women with beautiful legs are the best.Another hobby of his is making a chaos in his house and calling Yves, only to laugh while he runs away.

Favourite type of food:Jin eats foods with lots of protein.He likes to eat everything tasty.He is one of those that trick Yves into cooking.

Favourite drink(s):Jin is used to drinking alcohol and he doesn’t get drunk easily.He enjoys cocktails from his bar and juices.He is okay with tea as well.

THE END.

NadiaSilver~

AN:Thank you very much for reading, and i’m sorry for repeating so many words!I hope you enjoyed it!Also, my requests are open to everyone!I write for ikemen revolution, ikemen vampire and ikemen prince!

[samsexualdeancurious]

Winchester Style

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Words: 1,566

Summary: The reader beats Dean at pool and wins a spa day. Dean puts his own spin on it.

Warnings: None

A/N: Written for CeCe for her March 2020 request

Betaed by @saxxxology and @manawhaat

---

As soon as the last solid ball on the table drops into the corner pocket, you leap victoriously and punch the air, whirling to see Dean’s pout.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” you tease, dropping your cue onto the table and throwing your arms around Dean’s neck. You plant a quick kiss on his pouty lips. “You’ll get your day of sex at some point, perhaps a little closer to your birthday.” You step back to take both his hands in yours, shooting him a wink that softens his expression into the beginnings of a smile. “There he is. C’mon, baby. Dance with me and don’t worry anymore about how you lost a game of pool to the woman you taught to play the game.”

Dean groans but allows you to pull him out onto the small dance floor of the bar. It’s been far too long since you’ve gotten a night out with your man and felt his body move against yours while the music pulses through you. Dean pretends he can’t dance but he knows some simple steps and has a good sense of rhythm in general, making him an easy partner.

“Tomorrow,” you whisper in his ear, “we go home. The next day, I want my spa day.”

Dean rolls his eyes but his arms settle around your waist, guiding you closer to him as your own arms loop around his neck. “Any specific requests?”

“Sleeping in, breakfast in bed, massages of every kind…” you tick each item off on your fingers where your hands rest behind his head. “A bubble bath and face mask - don’t worry, I have all the things you’ll need for those - and… that’s all I can think of.”

“Don’t want me to throw in a happy ending?” Dean teases.

You smack his chest playfully, throwing your head back with a laugh. “I definitely wouldn’t mind one of those.”

--

A part of you doesn’t expect Dean to actually follow through with your promised spa day, so that part of you is pleasantly surprised to wake up two mornings later to your boyfriend kissing your forehead and presenting you with a tray of all your favorite breakfast foods.

“Oh, my God,” you groan, breathing in the delicious aromas. “I love you.”

Dean chuckles, settling on the edge of the bed. “I know.”

“C’mere. I wanna cuddle you.”

You tug him closer until he’s sitting beside you and you can snuggle against his side while you enjoy your breakfast. Once you’re done with your breakfast, Dean sets the tray aside and kisses your cheek.

“Go do your morning routine,” he says, nudging you out of bed. “I’ll set out clothes for you. I have some plans.”

“Plans, huh?” You lift a brow at him. “What kind of plans?”

“The kind of plans that are meant to be a surprise,” Dean replies with a gentle shove.

You pout but do as he says, running through your morning routine and quickly making sure your hair is presentable. When you return to the bedroom, Dean and the breakfast tray are gone. Laid out on the bed are underwear, socks, your favorite sports bra, one of Dean’s t-shirts, and a pair of your really comfy leggings. On the floor at the foot of the bed, you see your sneakers. You frown, eyeing the items and trying to figure out how they play into a spa day.

There’s a soft knock on the closed bedroom door. “Y/N? You dressed?”

You open the door to see Dean leaning against the frame on the other side. He takes one look at you and frowns.

“You’re not dressed,” he says, disappointment laced through his words.

“Just trying to figure out how sneakers play into a spa day,” you tell him honestly.

“Maybe they’re not part of a traditional spa day,” Dean admits. “But this is a Winchester spa day. C’mon. Don’t you trust me?”

You nod without hesitation. You do trust him.

He brightens up. “Go get dressed. We’re not on a schedule or anything but I wanna get going.”

You kiss the corner of his mouth lightly. “Gimme a sec.”

You change quickly, suddenly eager to find out what Dean has planned. Maybe it’s not gonna be the full day of pampering you were imagining but Dean knows you, knows what you enjoy.

Dean’s exactly where you left him when you open the door again, ready to go. His whole face lights up when he sees you.

“Ready?” he asks, straightening up.

“Ready.”

--

You’re more than a little surprised when Dean leads you to the Impala. He dodges your questions as you try to figure out where exactly he’s taking you. Luckily, the drive is a short one and he’s soon pulling into a parking lot beside a reservoir. You can’t help but stare at the smooth blue surface of the water, perfectly reflecting the clear sky. It’s an absolutely gorgeous day and when you get out of the car, you feel a little thrill at getting to spend it in nature. The temperature is perfect with a light breeze to keep things fresh.

You turn your face towards the sun, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. When you open your eyes again, you see Dean smiling at you over the Impala.

“C’mon,” he says, rounding the car to grab your hand, “how does a walk sound?”

“Today? Heavenly,” you answer, allowing him to lead you towards the beginning of a walking path. “This place is gorgeous.”

“Sam helped me find it.”

The trail goes all the way around the reservoir. You lose yourself in the walk and in the sight of all the nature around you. Dean keeps quiet, allowing you to just soak it all in. His hand stays in yours the whole way around. It’s not a very big reservoir but it still takes a couple of hours to get back to where the car waits. You see a few other people long the way but for the most part it’s just you and Dean.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning against Dean when you reach the parking lot again.

He slips his arm around your shoulder and kisses the top of your head. “I’m glad you like it. How does a picnic sound?”

“That sounds awesome.”

“Good. I’ll get the stuff. Go pick us the perfect spot.”

While Dean gets a cooler and blanket from the trunk of the car, you examine the big grassy area beside the parking lot. You settle on a spot away from the other families and couples who are enjoying their own picnics.

“Here?” Dean asks when he reaches where you’re standing.

“Right here.”

He spreads out the blanket and sets the cooler on one corner of it. You immediately pop open the lid, eager to see what Dean’s packed. You find containers full  of pasta salad, fruit, sandwiches, and all sorts of other delicious things.

“Did you make all this?” you ask, handing Dean one of the paper plates he packed.

“Yes, I did, and it’s your spa day so get your hands out of there. You’re gonna sit there and look gorgeous while I serve you.”

Your cheeks warm and your heart does a happy skip as you sit back on the blanket. Dean lines up all the containers and dishes up a plate for you with a little of everything before he makes a plate for himself. You wait until he settles beside you with his plate before digging into yours. You find yourself leaning against his side, just soaking in the moment. Dean’s body is solid beside yours and he keeps tilting his head down to nuzzle at your hair or press kisses to the top of your head.

“I think I like Winchester spa days more than traditional ones,” you admit later, when the leftover food is all packed up and the two of you are just just sitting on the blanket together. Dean has tucked you in against him, your back to his chest so he can keep his arms around you while you both enjoy the view.

He presses a kiss behind your ear. “Oh, yeah? Does that get me out of giving you a massage?” His tone is light, teasing.

“Hell no,” you laugh, smacking his knee lightly. “I want my massage and there better be a happy ending to go with it.”

Dean chuckles, nuzzling into the side of your neck. “I think that can be arranged.”

--

A happy ending does not end up happening at the end of Dean’s massage, but you can’t bring yourself to complain. Not when you end up sitting across from Dean in a giant claw-foot tub you didn’t know existed within the bunker’s walls.

His hairs are spiked up in a little bubbly mohawk and both of you are wearing a thick layer of foaming face masks. They smell like flowers and the way Dean wrinkled his nose when you open the jar made the weird feeling on your fingers, and the tingly sensation on your skin, totally worth it. Your fingers are going pruny, but that’s not your concern right now. You’re too busy laughing at Dean’s dumb jokes and playing with Dean’s fingers where they’re tangled with yours on the side of the tub.

It might not be a typical spa day, but a Winchester spa day ain’t half bad.

---

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—

Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis @laughing-at-the-darkness​​ @tumbler-tidbits​​ @imsuperawkward​​​​ @emoryhemsworth

[vegetalass]

RDR2 Boys Cooking + Eating Habits

Arthur 

Somebody else on here wrote some headcanons about Arthur not being able to cook and just eating microwave food all the time and I just have to say…. That’s canon 

Lowkey though he’s trying his best to get better at cooking

Probably the only thing he knows how to make is pasta 

He adds a bunch of random frozen veggies to water as the noodles are cooking 

And then smothers the whole thing in butter and calls it a meal

Or he puts marinara sauce on it straight from the jar 

And yes, that means it’s cold

He’s also getting better at friend rice, too

But he’s really bad at actually making rice 

If he doesn’t add too much water… He burns the bottom 

Charles makes a mental note to buy him a rice cooker for his birthday 

Makes his own popsicles out of random fruit juices and eats them 24/7 

Thinks this qualifies him as a chef

Eats pickles and olives straight out of the jar with a fork 

And sauerkraut too probably 

Just goes over to john’s house on his pizza nights 

Puts ketchup on eggs

John 

Pizza dad 

Probably orders pizza, salad, and a 64oz soda twice a week 

Everything else is just Dino chicken nuggets, Eggos, hot dogs, quesadillas, and frozen peas and corn 

Food you feed to little kids, basically 

Mostly because he does have a little kid 

But also because it’s easy and takes minimal effort and he doesn’t mind eating it, too

Abigail would be mad but she has no room to talk

The most you’ll see him actually make is buttered pasta (like Arthur) or sometimes beans and rice 

Abigail bought them a rice cooker a while ago so that’s one thing he doesn’t have to worry about 

Probably always has some type of dessert laying around 

Doesn’t mean it’s good, but it’s there 

Abigail buys a bunch of those gross, low calorie ice creams and John ends up having to finishing them 

Family lunches consist of a bologna sandwich on wheat bread with American cheese and mayo, a piece of fruit, a bag of chips or crackers, a go-gurt, and some gummies 

And yes he makes them for himself and Abigail too 

They’re all eating good at the Marston household 

(Not really)

Charles 

Everything he cooks are things that can’t be made in single batches 

Lots of healthy soups, chilis, stew, etc…

Most of the time, he makes too much of whatever it is so he always has leftovers 

Everyone is jealous when he brings them for lunch

Probably finds all of his recipes in the newspaper or random magazines he reads while at the grocery store checkout line

Everyone is like, “Charles… Why are you reading Women’s Fitness?” 

And he’s like, “Check out this salad recipe, though”

Puts hot sauce on everything 

Salad, macaroni and cheese, hamburgers... You name it 

And he’s the king of snacking

All of his snacks are healthy, though

Raw veggies and fruit and quinoa chips from Whole Foods or something like that

Nobody likes this

He’s one of those people who brings hard boiled eggs everywhere as a “snack,” too

And yea, he puts hot sauce on those, also 

He really likes those weird protein bars that are hard to bite into and taste like chalk 

The flavors are either normal stuff like white chocolate macadamia or Protein Power Punch with whey, chia and seaweed 

There’s no in between 

He’s also a charcuterie board legend

Hosea is jealous of this talent

Micah

Spends all his money on take out 

He’s totally one of those weird people who’s entire trash can is just filled with take out boxes and cans of coke or beer

Constantly eating fast food 

You ask him what he bought at the supermarket and he’s like “Pub mix and bud light” 

SIR 

Everything that he does manage to cook only involve one step of preparation 

Unseasoned, fried meats and boiled veggies 

Sometimes scrambled eggs and bacon

If he’s feeling fancy, he will make plain sandwiches

This is very rare, though

Can and will complain about anyone’s cooking

Even if it’s good and he he likes it

There are certain people he can’t do this to, though, or they won’t let him eat

The only person’s cooking he doesn’t complain about is Dutch’s

Constantly snacking from an entire party sized bag of chips

And yes, he eats straight out of the bag and wipes his fingers on his jeans

His oven is dirty

Hosea 

A meal for him is probably a handful of almonds and an applesauce or yogurt cup 

He is constantly making a bunch of those Tik Tok recipes where you just put a bunch of random stuff into your crock pot and add ranch seasoning and cream cheese

*insert all of those memes about mom pulling out the crock pot*

If you complain, he says “Well, you’re always welcome to cook, too”

Wears an apron when he cooks

Constantly eating plain toast with butter

And bananas 

And cheese sticks

Thinks that this makes him “healthy” 

Definitely likes to snack on those cocktail fruit cups and canned mandarin oranges

His entire freezer is just full of ice cream 

It’s all weird flavors like Cherry Garcia, chocolate banana, and pistachio though

Everyone hates him for this

Raisins are his late night treat 

Has a secret stash of candy no one can find 

That’s okay though because it’s mostly Werthers Originals

And Chiclets gum

He picks out all the orange ones, though

Dutch

Tries to re-plate takeout so he can call it his own

Everybody sees through this but they stopped commenting on it like four Thanksgivings ago 

Buys a bunch of those meals from Costco that all you need to do is heat up in the oven

He does like fast food but only from the less popular places

Carl’s Jr., Wendy’s, BK, Arby’s, etc. 

A&W, too, because he’s old and weird

He can totally cook, he just never does 

It’s just normal stuff like spaghetti and meatballs or chicken and rice, though

Tuna fish casserole

He over-seasons everything, though

Mostly because he’s trying to prove that he’s a good cook 

Eats dessert twice, every night 

Once right after dinner, and then later when he’s feeling like a treat 

Will eat in bed

Uses a little bib and tray and everything 

Likes pumpkin and sunflower seeds

Would eat hot wings with gloves on 

He’s the one who taught Arthur to put ketchup on eggs 

Kieran 

The second I realized that Kieran would probably be white trash, my life changed 

Hamburger Helper meals for LIFE

That one cheeseburger pasta? Kieran probably eats that three times a week 

He 100% makes the ketchup-butter sketti from Honey Boo Boo 

“It’s been a while since I done had roadkill in my belly”

His favorite dessert is ambrosia salad or that weird yogurt/Cool Whip covered jello that was popular in the 2000s

Probably has a TV dinner every once in a while, too

Instant mashed potatoes and minute rice type of guy 

Also gives me big microwave cheddar broccoli vibes 

I’ve said this before, but his house is probably stocked with all kinds of on-brand goodies 

Probably always has some kind of chip and cookie around 

Eats dinner in front of the TV

Dips french fries in mayonnaise

All of this said though, he isn’t a picky eater and will eat whatever is put on his plate 

That’s why he’s great to take to restaurants, because he never complains

Honestly it’s just so sweet to think of him making big crockpot meals to share with ppl even if his cooking is a lil.... strange 

Javier

Thinks that the hot dog combo from Costco is a suitable dinner 

Also gets hot food from the grocery store for dinner a lot

Literally will just heat up a can of something and eat it plain 

Beans, chili, soup… 

Doesn’t doctor it up or change it at all 

He’s happy to share but no one wants any

Chips and dip, 24/7

And it’s just Tostitos Hint of Lime chips and hummus

Probably puts hummus on everything, too 

Corn chips, tortilla chips, tortillas, vegetables, sandwiches, etc. 

Will put anything in a tortilla and call it a sandwich 

Eats leftovers cold 

The rest of the gang thinks this is a sin

Makes stir fry with whatever is laying around the house

It’s a little gross because he will try to add leftover beans

Refuses to eat fast food

The only exception he’ll make is for french fries and ice cream

Walks around and eats at the same time

Isn’t above asking the other boys to share with him 

Despite the fact that this only happens if what they’re eating is good

Which is almost never

Sean

Sean can’t cook. That’s the end of it

The most he can make is that weird microwave Mac and cheese where the pasta is boiled in the mug?? 

He never does it tho and just sticks with the normal, frozen Mac and Cheese you can microwave instead

Uses his microwaving ability to make mug cakes

And microwave scrambled eggs

Burns his popcorn every single time

He’s probably set of the smoke detector or fire alarm multiple times

He’s Irish though so of course he’s addicted to potatoes and cabbage

And since he’s from the UK, he likes stuff like beans on toast and marmite

He’s a little nasty too so catch him eating bologna sandwiches on wonder bread

Not even the Marstons are that bad

When he does get takeout, he overspends trying to use a delivery app 

He’s like, “And do I need the extra side of special sauce for $5…? Yes.” 

Cooks like this 

[homestuck-headcanonymous]

dinosaurs eating people (they didn’t get to say goodbye)

a/n: this is a whole lot of angst. tw for suicide.

the moment of silence after you die, dave strider thinks, must be the loneliest moment in the world. dread has always been woven into his bones, his blood, polluting every second he had- but not like this. nothing was like this.

he remembers the day they pulled apart from the alpha timeline like it was yesterday- maybe it was. he does not know when or where or what he is in this strange too-dark-to-be-darkness, and maybe he is nothing at all. It was the littlest thing- a gear was fixed from where it had broken, something to do with a door mechanism nobody ever used- and then it was gone. shattered. like a dead butterfly’s wings in the palm of a child’s hand grasping too tight. it *hurt*, almost, the knowledge of it- like a recoil from the shotgun bro had tried to teach him to use, the one that was stuffed inside of the hall closet in the apartment he hadn’t seen in years. terezi and rose felt it too, he could tell. he’d never seen grief-and-guilt-and-pain and pure, exhausted, aching resignation mix on his sister’s face like that, and it almost made his chest tighten and sting all over again as he saw her feel the string holding them to a future draw taut and snap back on her, like the lash of a too-tight violin string breaking.

it was so quiet that day. it felt wrong, but what could he do? it was grief, in a way, but it never felt like it. it felt like the second after you drop something important on the ground and it shatters. the moment you realize that you have done something irreparable. karkat came into his room that night while he stared at the ceiling. the scent of sopor was thick around him, and he didn’t have to say why. dave knew. he understood. after all, if you’re doomed, why not try and do whatever you can to ease that pain? karkat’s shoulders were shaking, and his expression was softened and blurred with tears as red as the stained glass window of the cathedral he saw once on a bus ride. it was a portrait of jesus on the cross, bloodied and red but still resolute, still willing to die for the future of those around him. dave held karkat that night, but neither of them slept very much. karkat still smelled like home to dave, underneath the saccharine-sticky scent of slime, and when he dozed off in the irregular moments of what he thought would have been almost dawn, he thought christ was a fitting metaphor for karkat. born to die, in a way, but to save others. who was this saving? in a moment of bravery, he left the lightest of feather-soft kisses on karkat’s forehead. the troll didn’t stir from his fitful slumber. he could never understand, dave thought, what karkat was going through, but it could have never been easy.

it was so easy to fall in love like that- the space when there is nothing but you and those you care about. karkat woke late the next morning, messy-haired and sleepy-eyed in the soft light of the alchemized fairy lights, and dave strider wished that he could take a million photos, just to see the scene forever, because karkat vantas was the most beautiful sight in all of time and space like that.

“thank you, dave. for letting me stay. you know. last night. i...i think i just needed to not be alone for a little bit.”

his voice is bleary and soft, and it feels like soft rain during a houston summer. dave could listen forever.

“and i know that you’ll just say that it wasn’t a big deal, or that it was nothing, or that it didn’t matter, but it did. it meant a lot to me. so...thanks. i’m.. glad you’re here.”

karkat’s hand is cupping his cheek now, soft and gentle and so warm that he wants to lean into it like a cat being pet, and it is the kindest way anyone had ever touched him. he realizes that his shades are off, set aside to sleep. he realizes that he doesn’t care.

when dave strider kisses karkat vantas for the first time, it is knowing that the world has ended, and seeing the wild, bright unknown of whatever comes after. neither of them quite knows how, and it is awkward and new, and utterly, wonderfully, perfect.

dave’s never considered himself a romantic, but maybe, he thinks, one day, that could be changing. he knows karkat loves that stuff, and when he tries to set up a picnic for the two of them in a room without much in it, the alternian fruit salad bites him, and the candles are smoky and burn stutteringly, but seeing the way karkat’s eyes light up the room and his quiet laugh of gentle disbelief makes his heart melt in relieved affection.

dave strider is completely, utterly, head over heels in love, and he knows it.

here, now, in this space of nothing he is becoming, he wished that he had said it a million times.

they never talked about it, that much. the world ending. everything ending. *them* ending. dave wishes that they would have. it just hurt too much, in the late nights when he thought of it, karkat’s head rested on his chest and neither of them sleeping. it burned too much, to gaze into the blazing sun and face it. he knew that they were out of time, but somehow, he always thought they’d get just a little longer.

the day he died was a little like that. rose stayed in her room alone, that morning. he heard kanaya knocking at her door softly, and he saw the wine-red blood and the blood-red wine spilling across the metal floor when kanaya entered, soaking into the rug that rose had spent weeks crocheting, the colours of lavenders and sunshine and stormy skies in soft woolen doily-patterns. he heard quiet whispers of “no no no no please no” filling his ears and it was only as he fell to his knees, his sister’s blood smudging his face, that he realized that they were coming from him. kanaya was curling into herself shaking like a leaf in the breeze, and dave wanted to too. it was like a gnawing hollowness, the denial of something right in front of you, of watching a chunk of your sliced-off heart bleed to empty on the ground. it was the beginning of the end. or maybe it was the end of it. when he saw karkat coming out of the winding hall where terezi’s room was, teal soaking his skin up to the elbows, he knew too. the instant dave touched karkat’s shoulder, all the comfort he could think to give, it was like the troll shattered, falling to the ground.

“’rezi...i..i tried so hard to save her....but i was too late....the blood....there was so much blood...”

dave doesn’t know what to say, really. what to do. how do you comfort someone when the world is ending? he drops to his knees and wraps his arms around karkat’s shoulders, as though he can hold him tight enough to turn back time. he wishes he could. just to stay like this for a few more moments.

they hold each other like that for a while. neither of them have the energy to spare for tears, but they grieve together. it is quiet. and for a moment, it feels like someday, everything will be okay. when dave looks out the window, he sees the collision course they follow. cleanup for heroes doomed to die. he knows that there will not be a someday. not for them. when he goes back up to rose’s room to invite kanaya down for coffee of a late breakfast, or anything to not make her stay alone, the door is just ajar, and her sewing kit- the one she always kept in her pocket, the one she loved so much- with the ivy-patterned canvas and the vintage scissors and the tiny little star sketchbook for design ideas- is strewn across the hall, pins and needles and spools of thread scattered and thrown everywhere. the scissors are gone- he remembers, distantly, how they had been a present to her from rose- how he’d walk out of his room in the middle of the night and find her still trying to alchemize what she wanted. how relieved rose had looked behind her tired eyes on kanaya’s wriggling day party, when her eyes lit up at the delicate embroidery scissors, with their little brass handles carved like lace with tiny roses. it had been a happy day. a few months before the split. he does not need to look, now, to know where the scissors have gone. he notices the jade-green blood, half-iridescent, soaking into his shoe far too late, and it makes him feel sick to his stomach.

dave goes back to his room. he grabs one of the jugs of bleach from the cleaning supplies cabinet they never really ended up using. idly, he wonders what they could have used all the time they wasted on them for. how many days could he have spent with the people he loved? what could have happened in those days falling from the timeline? he wants to hit something with the injustice of it all, punch and kick and scream and cry, because how could he have been so stupid? to have wasted the hours he doesn’t get anymore because he lost them?

it’s his turn, now. he knows it.

karkat is waiting inside his room, the quilt kanaya made for him as a christmas present reddened and damp where his tears have fallen. in a moment, karkat wraps his arms around dave’s neck, clinging onto him. dave wraps his arms around him too, and buries his head in karkat’s shoulder. he still smells like home to dave, and it makes dave feel like his chest is collapsing in on itself, concaved to less than a hollow space. the jug of bleach is set on the ground for a moment. it is not forgotten.

karkat sees it when he lets go. dave knows he knows in a split second.

“dave, you...this is some sick joke, right? some sick fucking joke? you can’t be..not you too, right?”

karkat sounds desperate, devastated- and dave strider has never hated himself for doing something more in his life.

but he still cannot stay.

he steels himself with the same determination, the same icy chill he was raised to have. a strider man hurts people for their own good, a million times those words were blazed into his ears while he lay bloody on a rooftop ringing again.

“go away, vantas. i need to do this. it doesn’t concern you.”

he sounds like *him*- like bro- and it almost makes dave flinch back on instinct- reach for a sword and glance around and brace for the impact of a sword against his skin.

karkat’s eyes are filling with tears again, and the impact of it hurts more than any strife ever could have.

“doesn’t *concern* me? dave, what the fuck are you talking about? i *love* you! you don’t need to do this. please,- god, just....*please*, don’t leave me alone here. please, don’t leave me *alone*.”

dave freezes for a second. karkat stares back. the last card has been played. it is a second too long.

“god, y’know what! *fine*!! i guess i *can’t* fucking stop you! because *apparently* wanting the guy you thought was your fucking *soulmate* to not spend his last fucking moments alive with you chugging off-brand human clorox is an unreasonable fucking request! maybe....maybe you just didn’t give as much of a shit about me as i did about you! maybe i was a braindead fucking dumbass to think that you ever even loved me enough to give a shit about what i think!!”

karkat slams the door behind him when he leaves. dave slides to the ground, his back against it. he can hear karkat crying, now- his momentary desperate anger flickered out to nothing but loss and loneliness. dave’s guilt feels almost physical, now- like hot wax melted onto his skin that won’t let go. his hands are shaking. he realizes that his shades have fallen off, and that he must have stepped on them without noticing. one lens is cracked, the other shattered- the frame is twisted beyond repair. the jug is heavy- but not too much. his arms shaking, he slowly lifts it to his mouth. time is running out.

in the end, dave strider doesn’t need to kill himself. in the moment the bleach touches his tongue, searing it, the meteor crashes into another, shattering apart. the impact kills them all. there are no survivors. there is nobody left to remember them.

and now, dave strider is here. there is nothing. it is dark. *he* is nothing. the last thought he has before all he was is no more is that he just wishes that the people he loved did not die thinking that they were alone. that karkat did not die thinking he was alone. that he could have gotten just one last chance to say goodbye. it is what he has been thinking all along. it never comes true.

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Sixty-Seven

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Fluff and Smut, what else is new?

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

Mondays had been your days to meet Harry at his office, but now that he was working on his studio, you thought it would be nice to bring him and your dad some lunch. You were so happy it was almost May. The weather was starting to get really nice. You were able to go for runs outside on the days it didn’t rain.

“Hey, wanna come with me to the studio for lunch? I’m buying.” You say to Niall.

“Sure! It’ll be nice to get out for a bit. I’m sure your dad will love to see me.” He laughs and you shake your head at him.

You stop by a sandwich shop on your way, and head into the studio. You bite your bottom lip when you see Harry. He was use a nail gun to put some cabinets up for what would soon be a kitchen area. You dad was finishing grouting the tile. Harry steps down from the step stool and wipes his forehead of sweat. He was wearing a snap-back to help catch some of the sweat. He looks over at you and Niall and smiles.

“Oi, looks like it’s lunch time.” He extends a hand to help your dad up.

“Hi guys! It looks better and better every time I come here.” You hand them the sandwiches and give your dad a hug.

“Hi Niall.” Your dad shakes his hand. “Been too long.”

“I know, things have been crazy.”

“They’ve put some picnic benches out at the park across the street do you guys wanna eat outside? It’s so nice out.”

Everyone agrees and you head outside. Harry looked so good in his loose jeans and work-boots, you couldn’t get over it. He sits next to you, and Niall sits next to your dad.

“Everyone from New York has finally left, thank god.”

“That’s great!” Harry says, relieved Mark was finally gone.

“How are classes going, Y/N?” Your dad asks.

“Oh, they’re good. I’ll finish this one in a couple of weeks, and the next won’t start until June so I’ll a month to take a little break.”

“Your brother’s coming in Friday to help out, maybe we could all have dinner together after.”

“Sure! You both could come over, I can cook something up instead of going out.” You say. Harry puts his hand on your knee.

“That works.” You dad smiles. You knew he always preferred a home cooked meal.

“I could work from home that day and watch the baby if he wants to bring him in too.” Harry’s face lights up.

“I’ll run it by him. I’m sure his wife could use the night off.”

Niall distracted your dad for a few minutes so you could kiss Harry goodbye.

“How are you feeling today? You were a little wobbly yesterday…” You say quietly.

“Oh, I’m fine now.” He smiles. “Thanks for checkin’ in.” He kisses the top of your head, and goes back into the studio.

When he gets home later that night he’s exhausted. You had dinner ready to go, and he inhaled it.

“Jesus, Harry, you were hungry. Do you want a second helping?”

“No, thank you.” He rubs his eyes. “I need to go to bed, I’m so tired, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay! Go, I’d rather you get your rest. I have homework to do anyways.” You give him a reassuring smile.

“Well, maybe I could just rest on the sofa so I’m still hanging out with you.”

“If you wanna go to bed you can, really, it’s okay.”

“No.” He pouts. Oh no, you’re tried, grouchy boy was making an appearance. “M’gonna go put some sweats on and then I’ll come sit with you.” You nod and he walks out into the bedroom.

You grab your laptop and sit on the sofa. Yo start typing away at your forum post, and Harry comes out in just a pair of sweat pants. He plops down next to you and waits for you to finish. The second your laptop is on the coffee table he his is resting in your lap.

“Let me get a pillow, it’ll be more comfortable for your he-“

“No.”

“Harry.” You sigh. “Do you wanna just lay between my legs then?”

“Yes.”

You adjust so your back is against the arm rest, and Harry’s head is on your stomach. Your hands play with his hair and it didn’t take him too long to drift off. Times like this you think back to when you two first really cuddled together. He had had a long day at work and he asked you to lay with him. You had been on top of him at the time and you both fell asleep. That was when you knew you really felt safe with him. You sigh happily as you watch TV.

//

Friday rolls around, and your brother drops the baby off with you so he can meet your dad and Harry at the studio. You had a wonderful day watching him while getting some emails done. You never really got alone time with your nephew. You played with him for a little while, and then took him for a walk in his stroller.

You decided on making a meatless baked ziti for dinner. It was something everyone could enjoy, and easy enough to make. You whip up a big salad to go with it, and take the baby with you to the market quick so you can grab a baguette.

Harry sends you a few pictures of the progress they’ve made. The kitchen and Mariah’s office was entirely done. Next week they’d work upstairs to get Harry’s office situated. Then all he’d have to do is paint.

His social media was getting more and more hits thanks to you, and he was already booking out into July. You were so proud of him.

You send him a selfie or two with the baby and it makes him swoon. He couldn’t wait to have a baby with you some day.

Around 6PM you hear them come in through the door. You were sitting on the sofa feeding the baby. His eyes were rolled into the back of his head from loving his bubby. You had your eyes on him and you were humming.

“Hi guys.” You say smiling. “Dinner’s gonna be another ten minutes in the oven, everything else is on the table already.” You finish giving the baby his bubby and you sit him up so he’ll burp. He perks up when he sees your brother. “Is that your daddy, did you miss him?” You coo. Your brother smiles and takes him from you.

“How was he?”

“Perfect! He’s the easiest baby in the world.” You go over and kiss Harry on the cheek.

“M’just gonna wash up quick.”

Your dad was walking around. You realize it’s the first time he’s been over and inside your apartment.

“Dad, I’m sorry, let me show you around. You and Kyle can clean up in the guest bath.” You take the baby back from your brother.

Harry meets you in the kitchen and you hand him off to him so you can take the ziti out of the oven.

“Smells so good in here.” He says holding the baby with one arm. “Hey little guy, did you have a nice day with your auntie?” He boops his nose. You smile at the two of them.

“I got a baguette from the market.”

“Did you cut it up already?”

“Yes, and I saved you an end piece just how you like. Go sit down, I’ll bring this out.” Harry kisses you and then goes out to the dining area.

“I’ll take him, he’s fading, I’m gonna put him in the car seat so he can sleep.”

Your brother drags the seat over and places your nephew in it and his eyes slowly close. Once he’s settled, the four of you sit down to eat.

“You guys got so much done today. It’s amazing.”

“Yeah, all the heavy stuff should be done next week, and then it’s off to painting.”

“Rachel’s gonna help Harry paint. You guys should see the color’s she’s picked out for the offices, it’s going to be beautiful.”

The chatter is nice and light around the table. You bring out some coffee and fruit for dessert.

“Y/N, when do you think you’ll have an official house warming?” Your brother asks.

“I’m not sure, we were thinking end of May so it would be warm enough to be able to go out on the balcony.” You point behind you.

“That’d be great. Do you guys have a grill or anything?”

“We have a little indoor one.” You look at Harry. “I didn’t even think of that. We need to get a table and some chairs for out there.”

“We could go to Lowe’s this weekend and check out the prices.”

“I’ve got some gift cards to there, hold on.” You dad takes out his wallet.

“Dad, you don’t have to-“

“I don’t mind.” He smiles. “Here, it hasn’t been used, but I can’t remember how much is on there.” He slides a card towards you.

“Thanks.” You smile.

Your brother and dad eventually leave. It was a great day and evening. You and Harry slump onto the sofa.

“You were cute when we got in.” He says drumming his fingers on your knee.

“What do you mean?” You giggle.

“Feedin’ the baby. It was cute. You were like hummin’ to him and stuff.”

“Harry…”

“What?”

“I know where this is going.”

“Where what is goin’? I can’t pay my beautiful, amazing, wonderful girlfriend a compliment all of a sudden?”

“Wow, so many descriptive words in one sentence.” You say sarcastically. “You see me with him, and then you have baby fever for like a week.”

“To be honest, I always have baby fever, I just don’t express it.” You laugh at him. “With me ownin’ my own business imagine how easy it’ll be for us someday. Your place has maternity leave, and then when you go back to work I could just bring him or her with me to work. I could have everything set up for them there. Then we’d come home and they’d be all excited to see their mummy.” You blink at him.

“Oh, so you’d get to spend all the time in the world with them?”

“I’d take ‘em to come visit you when I could, and you’d come visit us.”

“You know the maternity leave is actually really good. You get three months paid, and then you get another three months paid working from home. And then you can like choose to work half days and shit, it’s amazing. At least we wouldn’t need child care. My mom could come and help out like she does with my nephew.”

“They essentially give you six months off? That’s almost unheard of here.”

“I know, I’m telling you the CEO is incredible.”

“C’mere, come sit on me.” You giggle and crawl into his lap. He rests his hands on your hips, and rubs his thumbs over your lower stomach. “Can’t wait to put one in yeh some day.”

“Oh, Harry.” You swat a hand at his shoulder.

“What? You know I do, and then I’d get to watch your belly grow.”

“Right, because that’s every girl’s dream. To be littered with stretch marks, a big strip of hair, and for their belly buttons to disappear.”

“Stop, that doesn’t happen to everyone.”

“I’m just saying, it’s not as romantic as you make it seem. I’ll be ten times more hormonal. I may get to a point where I have to go on bed rest.”

“I’d just take care of you.”

“You have an answer for everything.” You lean down and kiss him. “I saw you bring your tool-belt in with you.”

“Jesus, do you have a fetish or somethin’?”

“Harry, you just look so sexy with it on, will you please go put it on?”

“It’s just the belt, the tools aren’t even it it.”

“So? C’mon, let’s roll play a little. You can be the handyman that’s come to fix something for me in the bedroom, and I’ll be the needy, unsatisfied housewife.”

“You would so easily cheat on your husband?”

“Harry…please don’t be cheeky right now.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll go change.”

You wait for him anxiously and he comes back a few minutes later with a white t-shirt, jeans, and his tool belt on.

“The hat! Please put the snap-back on.” He sighs and goes back to get it.

“Happy now?”

“Yes!” You get up from the sofa and walk over to him. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.” Both of his eyebrows raise as you walk around him. “You see, my husband’s away on business and there are just some things a girl can’t take care of by herself.” You bite your lip and smile at him.

“That’s too bad. If I had a girl like you, I’d never leave yeh to do anything by yourself.” Your smile grows. You’re happy he’s willing to play along. “Show me what needs tendin’ to.”

“It’s in the bedroom, please follow me.” You giggle quietly. He follows you in. You tug at his collar and start kissing him.

“What if your husband comes home early?”

“He won’t, he’s too busy fucking his secretary.”

“What a fool.” He tilts your chin up and he kisses you again. “I’d take really good care of you if you were my wife.”

“Why not show me a little preview then?”

He steps back and takes his shirt off. You ogle his body.

“Jesus, Harry, you look-“ He puts his hand over your mouth.

“Can’t use my name, it ruins the illusion.”

“What should I call you then?”

“I don’t know, your handyman?”

“Okay, okay.” You clear your throat to get back into character. “My Mr. Handyman, you’re quite built.”

You reach your hands out to feel the muscles on his stomach, then his arms, and then his back. He smirks at the way you’re feeling him up. You walk back in front of him to face him.

“Haven’t been touched in so long.”

“Think I can fix that.”

He lifts you up and plops you down on the bed. He lifts your shirt off and unhooks your bra. He kneads your breasts his tongue slips into your mouth. You groan against him.

“Lay back.” You scooche further on the bed, lay back so he can undo your pants. He sees your lace, cheeky underwear. “Sorta naughty to be wearin’ this while your husband’s away.”

“Well, I’m a pretty naughty girl, Mr. Handyman.” You bat your eyelashes at him, and start to rub your clit over your panties. “Need someone to punish me.”

Harry’s face lights up. He undoes the tool belt, and lets it drop to the floor. He undoes his jeans and takes his boxers off. He gets on the bed and between your legs. He kisses your covered clit, and licks over your folds. He never really teased you like this, but then again, it wasn’t really him. He sucks on you through the material, and rubs his thumb over you. He grips your hips and flips you over. You get up on your knees and elbows. He slowly drags your soaked underwear off, and throws it on the floor.

He smacks your butt, not too hard. He did it the way he always did. You remember one time, early on, when he told you he’d smack you right on your clit, and you wondered if he was planning to do that.

“Hey, time out for a second.” You look over your shoulder at him. “I think we should have, like, a safe word, just in case one of us gets uncomfortable with the role play…” He says.

“Okay, should it be like a color or something?”

“How about yellow?”

“Okay, sure, yellow.”

“Alright…back to it then.” You giggle at him. You appreciated that he always seemed to think of everything. “So…uh, Mrs…Housewife, let’s take care of this problem you’ve been havin’.”

Harry grips your hips, and feel him lick from your clit to your folds. He hasn’t eaten you out from behind since god knows when. You grip at the comforter, loving the way it feels. He licks up dangerously close to your other hole and you flinch. He knows not to lick you there, he’s just testing the waters a bit. You were dripping wet, so whatever he was doing obviously felt good. He bites down onto one of your ass cheeks and sucks harshly. You gasp as your back arches. Harry had sort stopped leaving the really purple marks on you. He sits back and watches the color change on your skin.

He takes you and flips you onto your back. You look up at him and nod. He spreads your legs and lines himself up with you, thrusting in with a ton of force. He gauges the reaction on your face. He wants to have fun, not send you into a flash. He rubs your clit to soothe you a little while you reach up to grip at his shoulders.

He grabs one of your legs to put over his shoulder, and rocks in and out of you. He was hitting you nice and deep like you needed.

“Oh my god.” Your head rolls back into the mattress.

“Need this don’t you?”

“So bad.” You groan.

“Sit up on your elbows.” You raise an eyebrow at him, but you do as he says.

His hand trails up from your clit and rests on your stomach for a second. He swears he can feel himself going in and out of you. It slides up further and you think he’s just going to knead your breast, until it’s around your throat. He grips you, but not tightly, just resting it there.

“Handyman should use his hands, don’t you think?” You nod your head yes. “And you said you’ve been naughty, so…I think the best thing I can do is choke you a little.” He drops your leg from his shoulder. His thrusts continue, but he moves around in a circle. “Can I do that?”

“Yes.” You say in a whisper.

His thumb rubs over the front of your throat lightly, and then he gets a better grip on you. His other hand rubs your clit while he rocks in and out of you. He lets you lay back down all the way and you wrap your legs around his waist. He applies a little more pressure and watches you contort under him. Your cheeks had a deep blush over them.

Usually you were the one to choke him, but he was in full control tonight. You didn’t mind it really. After pegging him last weekend he deserved to have a little of the power back. Plus, you just like the way his strong hand felt around you. You were feeling a little light headed, but in a good way. His other hand rubs harshly on your clit, and you know your end is near.

He feels you tighten around his cock and he fucks you faster. You start panting and gasping, but he doesn’t let up. He hits your g-spot and rubs your clit just at the right place and you feel yourself release. Your back arches off the bed, and he rubs your clit the entire time, rocking in and out of you. He lets go of your throat and you take in as much air as you can.

“Come in mouth.”

“What?”

“Please, god, come in my mouth.” You groan.

Harry lets out a moan as he pulls out of you. You prop yourself up on your elbows and open your mouth for him. He angles himself, give himself a few quick pumps and comes. He comes in your mouth, down your chin, and on your chest. He made a mess of you. He goes to get off of you but your grab his face with one of your hands. You make eye contact with him as you swallow what actually got into your mouth. You lick over your chin, and then you scoop up what you can from your chest onto your finger, and suck on your finger. His mouth falls open while he watches you.

You go to speak, but you burst out laughing instead. Harry sits there, straddling you, very confused.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” You say, still laughing. “I’m just nervous. I’ve never done anything like that before.” His shoulders fall with relief.

“I didn’t hurt your little neck did I?” He leans in to inspect you. “Shit…”

“What?”

“Well, you can kind of see where my rings indented, should’ve taken ‘em off.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t full commit to your character.” You giggle.

“You don’t care if someone sees this?”

“It’ll fade. It’s probably less noticeable than a hickey. Speaking of which, I can’t wait to see the nasty one you left on my ass.”

“Hey, that wasn’t me that was the handyman.”

“Mhm.” You lean up and kiss him. “Was it fun?”

“Yeah…we could do it again sometime.” He gets off of you and follows you to the bathroom. You gasp when you see the bruise on your ass.

“Jesus, Harry…”

“S’not that bad.” He sighs. “We’ve been doin’ a lot of new stuff lately.”

“Guess so.” You shrug as you start to wash your face, having thrown your hair up in a bun. He leans against the sink counter as you apply your face-wash.

“Have you been bored with anything, is that why you’ve wanted to try so much?”

“Bored?!” You rinse off and pat your face dry. “Bored?!” You repeat. His face was stone cold. “Harry, how could you possibly think that? I love the way we have sex. From the way you stretch me out, every time with you is like the first time.” You take your hair out of the bun and shake it. “We’ve been together almost nine months, I just feel really close and comfortable with you. Enough to try some things out that I never had before.”

“So you never role played with anyone, ever?”

“Never!” You start to brush your teeth and he does the same. “Hold on, lemme pee.” He crosses his arms and looks in the other direction. “See! Super comfortable with each other.” He looks at you and smirks as you flush the toilet. You wash your hands and he uses the toilet next. “I was no virgin when we met, Harry, but I’ve had so many first with you.” He follows you out of the bathroom. “I’ve never been this close with a boyfriend before.” You both get into bed. “I feel like because I can just be myself with you, I’ve had the freedom to discover some new things that I like.” He lays his head on your chest. “I could never be bored, in any aspect of our relationship. Every day is like a new adventure.”

“You really mean that?”

“Of course! We don’t have to role play again if you didn’t like it.”

“S’not that I didn’t like it, I just don’t know how to pretend to be some macho dude.”

“You just look so fucking hot when you wear that stuff.”

“And I’ll gladly wear it for you anytime.”

“If you could role play as anything, what would you wanna do? I mean, we got to do one of my fantasies, what’s one of yours?” He sits up to look at you.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah! We should do what you wanna do too, it’s not all about me.”

“Okay, the butt stuff was something we both wanted, whether you believe that or not. So you can stop feeling guilty.”

“I don’t fe-“

“Yes you do, I can tell. We’ll do it again, trust me.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Anyways, I know you don’t wanna fuck in your office, so we could just use the loft, but I’ve had this…fantasy of you being like this…I don’t know CEO or something, somebody hire up, and I’m like your….assistant or something.” You hadn’t expected Harry’s fantasy of you to be so dominant. You were intrigued.

“Please, go on.”

“And well…there’s like all this tension between us right? Because, you can’t fuck your assistant, that’s against the rules. And I feel the tension too, but I can’t fuck my boss.” You bite your inner cheek to try not to laugh. This was very well thought out. “So, like, here’s the scene, so there’s one night we’re working late. You’re crazy overworked.” You nod. “And then I’m there, and I’m like you know what you need? To get fucked. Oh, I forgot to mention, you’re mean to everyone but me. So, I’m like you need to get fucked.”

“And how do you get me to agree to it?”

“I come in with a bottle of wine and two glasses, and I’m like let’s take a break.”

“Okay.”

“And then, I say you look tense, I could rub your shoulders. And you’re a little buzzed from the wine, so you roll with it, and-“

“There’s a lot of build up here.”

“Shh, I’m getting to it. So then, I’m like I can’t really get at you, let’s take your jacket off Miss Y/L/N, and you’re like okay. Then when I massage you skin to skin you start moaning, and it just escalates from there.”

“Oh it does?”

“Mhm, I fuck you on the desk, and then we have to keep it a secret. We say it was a one time thing, but we don’t mean it.”

“And you just came up with this elaborate fantasy all on your own?”

“Well…mostly…some…one of my romance novels sort of had a similar plot. But man, thinking of you like that, it really gets me going.”

“So even though I’m the CEO, you’re still the one to ultimately seduce me?”

“Yeah, you’re too much of a goodie goodie to break the rules.” He smirks.

“Well shit, guess I’ll just have to surprise you with that sometime.”

“You’d be into all that?”

“Would you wear your glasses?”

“Sure.”

“Yeah, I’d be into all of that.” He beams at you.

“I love you, so much. You are so the girl for me.” He chuckles and kisses you all over your face.

“I love you too, doll.”

He lays back down on your chest, and you play with his hair while you continue with your pillow talk. Eventually you both drift off. Harry was the perfect guy for you. Sure you had your ups and downs, but what couples didn’t? Every day you felt so lucky to be with him, but you were feeling that way now more than ever.