#so i still have no idea what vegetable it is TuT

[liliran]

Friend and i couldn't meet this week but i do have some funny stories to tell. it all started with this tweet:

i thought it was pretty funny, so i went to note down the vocabulary

洗澡 xǐ zǎo, to take a bath

盤子 pánzi, plate

as for 菜瓜布... i knew it had something to do with sponge, but what kind of sponge? and what kind of 瓜 is a 菜瓜?

my former teacher helped me settle some doubts:

絲瓜絡沐浴布 (丝 - 络 - - -）sīguāluò mùyù bù, loofah sponge

絲瓜瓤（丝 - -）sīguābù for short

菜瓜布 càiguā bù, kitchen sponge

[wileys-russo]

I had a cute idea I wanted to share because I love the way you write!! Leah has back to back interviews from home and reader is sat on the sofa just watching her, falling more and more in love with how passionate her girl is. Leah gets all blushy and a bit flustered by the gaze. Just a cute fluffy one x

lock down II l.williamson

"-and then i've got another over zoom with sky sports at three and i should be done for the day." your girlfriend sighed, already tired by her day before it had even begun.

"no rest for the wicked huh?" you hummed, still laid down in bed as the blonde restlessly paced back and forth across the room. "god then i've gotta fit in our gym program too! do you mind if we do it tonight? i know we're not supposed to but that at least gives me a few hours in between." leah groaned in realization.

"leah breath! of course i don't mind babe, its more enjoyable when we do the program together anyway. i'm more than sure we can push it back a few hours and it shouldn't affect the stats too much." you assured her gently as the blonde nodded.

"so much for lock down! everyone's watching bloody netflix and making tiktoks but noo im memorizing scripts and listening to the same witty one liner over and over about how hard it must be to 'work from home' as a footballer." leah mocked, falling backwards onto the bed with a huff.

"but is it?" you questioned as she sat up slightly and turned her head to be able to see you. "is it what?" leah asked with a confused frown. "is it hard to work from home as a footballer?" you questioned with a frown of your own.

one which quickly turned into a grin as your girlfriend lunged at you, ducking your head under the covers as her bony fingers poked and prodded at you, your safety blanket ripped away as the blonde hovered over you.

"you think you're so fucking funny." leah rolled her eyes as your grin grew. "well one of us has to have a sense of humor in this relationship baby, you're not called captain grumpy for nothing." you teased, tapping your lips expectantly.

"cheeky girl." leah tutted but none the less gave into your request, pressing her lips to yours as your hands moved to tangle in her hair, deepening the kiss as she settled on top of you.

but no sooner did the taller girl slip her tongue into your mouth, hands gliding slowly up your bare stomach, did her alarm go off.

"why!" leah pulled away and groaned moodily, flopping down and burying her face in your neck making you chuckle and gently scratch your nails against her scalp as you tapped snooze.

"babe this isn't making me anymore inclined to get up." your girlfriend mumbled against your skin making you smile. "what if i promise to make breakfast and have it ready for when your first interviews done?" you whispered into her hair, squirming as the girl sighed.

"might be working a little." leah admitted making you laugh and press a kiss to her cheek. "mm and what if i make your favorite breakfast?" you hummed, still rhythmically scratching at her scalp.

"the williamson special?" she questioned, the words muffled into your neck but you laughed again. "the williamson special. an omelette with ham, cheese and not a single spec of colour, flavour or vegetables." you teased, squealing as she pinched your hip but pulled her head up.

"you promised not to mock my eating habits." the older girl frowned with a pout that you quickly kissed away. "no i promised not to mock them last week, todays monday. brand new day of opportunity!" you grinned, pushing her hands away where they tickled at the sliver of skin where your shirt had rode up.

"first my speech impediment and now my diet. you really are a wicked awful woman!" leah sighed with a shake of her head as you scoffed.

"my love we've been over this. you don't have a speech impediment, you're just from milton keynes." you whispered against her lips, pulling away right before they could press against hers, pushing her off of you and moving to stand with a stretch.

"now my beloved MK, you're going the right way for the silent treatment missy." leah pointed at you with a glare as you oohed sarcastically. "tempting. is that a promise?" you winked, laughing as she lurched forward and grabbed the back of your top tugging you back down into bed.

"you are very lucky you're cute." your girlfriend tutted from above you, shaking her head. "and you're very lucky i'm so patient." you poked at her nose with an amused smile as leah gasped in mock offence, your girlfriend nothing if not the expert at annoying you.

"you wait for the third one and you won't have time to shower lee." you warned, pushing her fringe out of her face with a soft smile as she leaned over you to tap stop on the second alarm on her phone and looked down at you with a cheeky grin.

"in that case, wanna save some water?"

~

you were trying to concentrate on your own laptop, you really were.

in the spirit of having nothing better to do locked away in your home you'd signed up for an online accounting course, with leah already studying a much higher qualification in the same field she'd been a massive help.

but why would you waste your time looking at tax brackets and finance breakdowns when you could stare at your incredibly fit gorgeous girlfriend who was sat only a few metres away in your direct eyeline.

you smiled at how she threw and flailed her hands about as she spoke, always one to speak expressively and passionately as she was recounting a story from her childhood when she'd played on a boys team and was relentlessly pushed about for being 'just too good'.

it was one of the first things that had you falling deeply for the older girl, how passionate she was. not just about football but with anything she put her mind and heart to, including how fiercely she loved.

not just how she loved you, but how she loved her family, loved football, loved her friends, the girl could be a handful and a stubborn headache at times but nobody could deny that she was also one of the most sincere and loving human beings you'd ever met.

so with that in mind you sighed quietly, a dopey smile on your face as you pined over her like a lovesick puppy, something the pair of you were often teased about by your team mates but it just washed over you like water off a ducks back, both of you far too loved up in your little bubble to pay it any mind.

in fact without leah you were certain you'd have long lost your mind amid this pandemic, the blonde finding little ways every day to make you still feel so special or to have you smile or laugh, two things which rapidly became her favorite reward.

just yesterday she'd woken you up with breakfast in bed and a bunch of flowers just because.

granted she did order the breakfast from a local cafe which was still operating for delivery and you couldn't prove it but you were near certain that she'd stolen the flowers from some of your neighbors front yards on her morning walk.

regardless you were touched by the thoughtful gesture and showered her with sweet kisses as a thank you, even if leah did eat nearly all of your breakfast much to your amusement given it was hardly up to her usual bland unseasoned standards.

you leaned back a little more into the sofa and crossed your legs underneath you, balancing your laptop on a cushion on your lap, a soft smile plastered permanently into your features.

once or twice leah caught your eyes staring over the top of her own laptop, sending you a small grin or a subtle wink before her attention returned back to the interviewer.

you heard him say that the next game would be a drawing one, sliding your laptop away and hurrying to grab a notebook and pen, placing them beside leah who mouthed her thanks as you took a seat across from her at the dining table.

leah gave you a questioning look as you did so but you merely shrugged, gesturing for her to pay attention as she tuned back into the interview. you watched as she was told to draw her wembley stadium, competing against the interviewer.

you smiled as you took her in, the way her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, nostrils flaring in annoyance every now and then as she was unhappy with a stroke of her pen, a small puff of air exhaled from the corner of her mouth as the tip of her tongue pushed out the other side.

you took a photo of her and smiled, placing your phone back down and resting your chin on your hand. leah could feel your stare on her and as she revealed her drawing and you grinned as the tips of her ears and cheeks flushed red.

"stop!" she mouthed at you as you shook your head, still staring at her in admiration as her attention switched back to the interview. finally after what felt like hours of your gaze pinned to her leah was able to wrap it up, saying her goodbyes and clicking end call on the zoom, pushing her laptop closed.

"what?" you smiled innocently as the blonde sat back in her chair and shook her head at you. "you have a staring problem!" she accused with a point as you gasped and held a hand to your chest.

"i do not. i wasn't staring, i was admiring!" you clarified as leah hummed, her chair pushing back with a scrape. "cheeky." leah clicked her tongue as you followed after her to the kitchen, kissing her still slightly pink cheek with a smile as she grabbed a juice out from the fridge.

"leah!" you scoffed as you held your hand out for it to take a mouthful and she slapped her palm against yours with a wink.

last one, sorry babe." the blonde smirked as your mouth formed a small o. "those are mine!" you protested, rushing around the counter and trying to snatch it off her as she pushed you away effortlessly with one hand and downed the juice with the other.

"you are so unbel-" you started to tell her off as she exhaled happily and tossed the empty bottle into the recyling bin with a happy whoop as it landed. "no no wait, let me guess." her finger smushed against your lips silencing you as she stroked her chin as if deep in thought.

"unbelievably sexy?" silence. "no? okay. unbelievably charming?" silence again. "wrong again? mmm unbelievably intelligent?" more silence. "wow thought i had it there. unbelievably-" you wrenched her hand away at that and shook your head.

"unbelievably infuriating!" you rolled your eyes as leah smacked her forehead with a scoff. "that was my next guess!" she tutted with a shake of her head as you sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"hey hey don't get all stroppy. there's still three more in there i was only teasing." leah grabbed your waist and pulled your shorter form into her, a noise of surprise leaving your mouth as her hands hooked under your thighs and she hoisted you up to sit on the counter as she settled between your legs.

"how about the williamson special right now?" leah smiled, thumb tracing your bottom lip as you gave her a look of slight confusion. "you want another omelette?" you questioned as your girlfriend shook her head.

"no no baby girl, the real williamson special." leah rasped, hands toying with the waistband of your sweats as you caught onto what she was suggesting.

"mmm and whats that? my memory needs a jog." you hummed, a smile settling onto your own face as the girl leaned in, minty breath fanning your face as her lips were millimeters from yours.

"mind blowingly passionate sex with a guaranteed happy ending, and then-" your eyes fluttered closed as she moved to kiss at your neck, lips trailing from your jaw down to the column of your throat, biting softly before she moved to tug at the lobe of your ear.

"-then we eat potato smileys in bed naked and watch the golf." leah exhaled as you moaned playfully.

"god i love it when you talk dirty to me."

[murdrdocs]

INTERVIEW 013

with. finnick odair

includes. fem!reader, husband finnick, filming, kitchen sex, domesticity, oral (fem receiving)

→ kinktober masterlist

It started out as the definition of domesticity. 

There was a package in the mail, sent from Katniss and Peeta, addressed to ‘The Odairs’ in Katniss’ handwriting. Seeing the joint name made you giddy, but reading the letter from your closest friends made you giddier. 

They’d congratulated you on your recent marriage, praised the ceremony once more, and had enclosed an old video camera for both of you to document your newlywed endeavors on. 

While you had cooking and home decorating selected as ideas for ‘newlywed endeavors’, Finnick had gone a different route. 

The camera sat in his hands as he kissed at your neck, his free hand teasing at your waist. 

“C’mon, sweetheart. It’ll be fun,” came his promise, spoken lowly and close to your ear in an attempt to get you to give in. You were closer to doing so than you would like to admit, just the thought almost enticing enough to make you put the knife down, slide the vegetables out of the way, and give Finnick what he wanted. 

Almost. 

You refused to give in without making Finnick plead just a little more. 

You hummed, fauxing disinterest as you brought the knife down in another audible slice against the wooden chopping board. 

Finnick continued. “We could look back on it. You could see what I see; How pretty my wife is.” The term made your heart flutter, still not used to being the wife of Finnick Odair.  His hand at your waist circled around to your front, pressing flat against your stomach and pulling you flush against him so you could feel the semi he was sporting beneath his joggers. 

You couldn’t help it anymore, your head lolling back to rest against Finnick, your skull connecting with the taut muscles all along his body. 

 “What d’you say?” You could hear the self satisfied smile in his words.

You end up on the counter top, any food you were prepping pushed all the way to the side to make room for you. Your legs spread, Finnick’s head between a pair of plushy thighs, your abdomen tensing and relaxing as you controlled your breathing. You caught it all on camera, the object pointed down at your husband who licks and sucks along your cunt like it’s his favorite pastime in the world. 

Which, he’s told you as such. 

The muscles in his shoulders flex as he nudges the back of your legs with them, arms circling around your thighs to press his fingertips into the flesh. 

Your legs have lifted a bit, spreading you open even more. 

Finnick presses his tongue flat, letting it relax over the expanse of your cunt as much as the muscle can reach. He licks a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, repeating the pattern back and forth until you can’t take it anymore. When you whine, the sound desperate and pathetic, he gives you more. 

The interlude of teasing has completely passed, Finnick going back to devouring you like he knows how. He releases one of your legs to use two digits inside of your greedy walls, cunt swallowing them up as Finnick pumps in a fast paced rhythm. 

He focuses on your clit and the surrounding area with his mouth, eyes opening to look up at you. Through the camera, the green is a little grainy, slightly dulled, but you can see the intensity behind his gaze all the same. 

His cheeks flushed, the tip of his nose glistening, blonde wavy hair all over the place from your grip. Your hand finds the strands again as your orgasm approaches, the camera leaning off to the side just a little. 

Finnick pulls away from your cunt and you cry out as you stare down at him in shock. 

He tuts, jerking his head towards the camera. “Keep it on me, baby.” 

You quickly bring it back, taking Finnick’s smile as a form of praise as he goes back down. Just as quick, you’re close again, back arching and muscles tightening. 

Your hand slips from Finnick’s hair, nails scratching at his shoulder as it flails around. Finnick, always knowing exactly what you need, offers his own hand to ground you, both of your fingers quickly interlocking like opposite ends of a magnet. 

When you cum on Finnick’s tongue, it’s so loud that the tiny microphone in the camera struggles to pick it up. 

Watching it back, Finnick teases you for it, his cock sliding in and out of your walls as he fucks you from behind, lips against the shell of your ear as he promises he can make you cum louder here and now than he did then.

[stormyweaver]

okay so it's like 5am, and idk why I spent over five minutes trying to come up for a title for this when I remembered it's a fucking stand-alone drabble type... thing. i'll catalog it and everything else on my blog later.

ANYWAY!

This idea wouldn't leave me alone (as a few of you already know, you cuties <3 thanks for listening to my rambling LOL) and I finally had the insomnia-induced drive to finish it. I just think Al and Vox deserve some slice-of-life stuff with sneezy shenanigans thrown in every now and then.

Enjoy!

~~~~~~

“I still don’t get why you dragged me to the fucking Recreational Center of all places. And on a Saturday? Seriously, we could be doing literally anything else right now - y’know there’s an early morning special on hammerhead sharks that I’m missing because of you…”

On and on, and on and… well, Alastor wasn’t sure if he could stand much more whining. At the very least the twitch of his left-eye would soon become permanent if he didn’t put a stop to things soon. 

Thankfully he didn’t have to use actual force, for the signage above their heads read that they had arrived at the correct room. 

Though the moment Vox’s gaze caught onto the flyer posted over the door, he immediately went back to griping. “Cooking-- Cooking class? You signed us up for a fucking cooking class?! What the hell, Alastor?! I literally could be at home if I wanted to learn how to cook!”

The skin beneath his eye jumped once before Alastor whipped his gaze to Vox with a speed that seemed to startle his companion. “Why don’t you tell that to the three separate pans I’ve had to replace due to your abysmal cooking attempts, hm?” It was technically three pans, and one very antique dutch oven. In a show of rare generosity, he had given them to Vox after finding no use for them himself. And regretted the decision entirely. Not to mention that he very nearly burned the kitchen down in one instance. Oh sure, it was Vox’s apartment, but so long as he insisted on having Alastor over for meals, he wasn’t going to be taking any more chances. 

As was expected, Vox pouted and crossed both arms across his chest in a huff. “I already told you, those were shitty quality pans, and–”

“One was cast iron, Vox. You nearly melted a cast iron skillet. Do you have even the slightest notion of how horrendously unskilled one would be in order to manage that?”  No response, aside from Vox’s pout deepening. “That’s what I thought. Now come along, we don’t want to be late!”

– Though Alastor had thought it impossible for Vox to act any more petulant, once the class had started his companion seemed to make it his mission to act like an absolute child for the remainder. While Alastor himself didn’t require any new lessons in the kitchen, he did enjoy the act of cooking far more than anyone else present seemed to. Granted, most were here for their inability to cook but unlike Vox, who was slumped onto their small counter and grumbling about whatever inane show he was missing out on, the rest of the class was actually paying attention and at least attempting to make progress. Curious how even in Hell, sinners were still trying to improve themselves. Well, they did have to eat, Alastor supposed. 

The dish they were working on today was effortlessly simple - scrambled eggs. How in the Nine Circles anyone could manage to muck up this dish was beyond him. Though apparently some had already managed to try by whipping the shells into their mixture, just barely caught by their instructor. 

Alastor tutted, then gazed down at the recipe card in his hand and wrinkled his nose.

Ingredients: 

2 eggs

Salt to taste

Just salt? Well, that certainly wouldn’t do. For a halfway decent scrambled egg, one needed to employ at least pepper - not to mention a few other ingredients he personally utilized to give the scramble a bit more kick. Not needing any permission, he began pulling out the various spices and vegetables he required. Prompted by the movement, Vox had finally stopped his sulking and looked to the array of items with a raised brow. “Why do you have so much out? The recipe only has two ingredients, Al.”

“Ah, so you have been paying attention! Certainly could have fooled me,” His grin widened as Vox glowered at him, “If you’re going to learn how to cook, then you must learn how to cook properly. Certain recipes require a personal touch, my good man.”

Vox snorted. “Was this whole thing just an excuse for you to prove how ‘superior’ your cooking skills are to the teacher?”

When Alastor gave a noncommittal hum, Vox tacked on, “I’ll take that as a yes– wait, cayenne? In eggs? I’ve never–”

“Of course you haven’t, which doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. You simply can’t have eggs without spice, it’s unheard of! To those with good taste, obviously,” Alastor plucked the small container as Vox watched, unimpressed and definitely uncertain, “Just a dash is all it takes. It really does bring out th–”

Though he’d only used a single claw to tap the small cylinder, he bristled as the top popped off, the dark-red powder pouring out into a heap onto his otherwise cloud-like scramble. Well, fuck.

Vox didn’t even bother trying to hide his amusement, snickering as he gazed at the mishap. “Just a dash, huh?”

“How irksome…” Alastor sighed, but decided there was no use crying over spoilt eggs. While he began prepping another batch, a tentacle rose and deposited the ruined ones into the trash bin beside Vox - a bit too roughly, if the cloud of spice that rose up from its depths was any indication. 

“Jesus, Alastor– kff! Kff! You couldn’t have warned me?!” 

Alastor rolled his eyes, his smile having grown a bit more tense. “Do you mind? I’m attempting to salvage what’s left of his mediocre class, now hush.”

“God, you’re such an a– KFF! A– hahhsshole…” Vox’s voice trailed off into an unsteady gasp, vents bristling as the clouds of spice enveloped them. He tried to get a hold of his breathing, but it continued to sputter out until, with a sharp inhale, he ducked down against his forearm.

“eh’IZZSCHHH!!!” 

The sneeze would have been enough to startle Alastor, and he did twitch a bit from the volume, but what caught his attention was the lights flickering above their heads. That was… unexpected. “eh’IZZSCHH’ue! heh’IZZSCHH’t!” One of the overhead bulbs cracked before shattering, causing a few sinners to yelp in surprise. Alastor’s gaze flickered back to Vox, who was sniffling and rubbing at the center of his screen with a grimace - and a hint of embarrassment. And the small but detectable haziness that signified he still had to–

“Hehhh’hih!! ih’KZZSSCHH!! Fuck, I-I can’t– ‘TZZSCHH!” This time, a sharp current of electricity shot out from Vox’s frame, Alastor nearly missing getting zapped by side-stepping just in time. He could see the energy still skittering along Vox’s trembling shoulders and, judging by how his little mishap had already caused one bulb to break, Alastor wasn’t planning on being responsible for potentially shutting power to the whole building. 

Huffing, he all but yanked Vox by the wrist, and soon the duo were teleported back out onto the sidewalk. Vox staggered forward, still unused to Alastor’s means of travel and fixed him with a watery-eyed glare. 

“Again - a little warning next t– t’hhh’hehh! t-time– hAHH! AH’IZZSSCHHH’HUE!” Unfortunately, Alastor had still been close enough to Vox, and he flinched as he felt the energy course along his arm, prickling his skin, frizzing his hair– oh, that insolent little–

Apparently Vox had already gotten the hint and took a generous step back, palms up in a sign of submission. “S-sorry, I can’t control it!”

“I’m aware,” Alastor ground out, attempting to smooth out his hair, “Was all that really necessary? If you truly wanted to leave, you could have at any time, you realize? Instead of making a spectacle of yourself?” 

“It’s not my fault! That damn spice got into my vents, and- snf! Ugh, it still is, I think… fuck, it itches.” He continued scrubbing at his screen, the middle now saturated a soft but bright pink in contrast to the typical teal. Despite his irritation, it pained Alastor to admit that the sight of Vox sniveling and embarrassed almost made him feel… eugh, sympathy. Almost. 

That inkling of unusual emotion switched to slight panic when he heard Vox’s breath catch again. 

“F-fuck– ehh’heh! hhEH’--NHH!”

The sudden pressure of Alastor’s finger against his screen was almost enough to startle Vox out of his sneeze, and he blinked a few times before heaving a shaky sigh. “I’m… I’m good, now… thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Ever.” He emphasized the word with a flash of his demonic form, but Vox’s fear gave way to a deadpan as he watched Alastor wipe the hand he’d touched Vox with along his jacket. “Well, I’m a bit put off from eating at the moment. Still, it is a lovely morning. Perhaps a walk in the park would be suitable for clearing your… vents, hm?”

Vox nodded. “Sure. So long as there aren’t any flowers, I’m all–”

“On second thought, I’m leaving. Ta-ta!”

“Oh come on, Al! I was joking!” It wasn’t like there was actually ragweed in Hell… right?

[toyama-division]

Happy Birthday Sayaka!

TW: Alcohol use, Drunken Confessions ♡(੭˶•༝•˶)੭･:*ੈ♡‧₊˚:･

【 Toyama City, Toi Pharmaceutical Co. 】

It was late, but it couldn't be helped. As much as Kensaku loved to skip out on meetings and slack off, there were moments when he had to prioritize his job over his family and friends. And unfortunately, the Saitama Division leader's birthday was an instance where he could not escape his responsibilities for her.

Thankfully, Kensaku had chosen his friends well, as the gentle leader understood his situation completely. To make up for the unlucky timing, the two, alongside the genius doctor from Shinjuku, Jakurai Jinguji, arranged to go out for drinks to celebrate Sayaka's birthday, albeit belated. As much as Kensaku begged in their texts for Jakurai to join them in the alcoholic beverages, the doctor stood firm he would simply watch the other two and act as the designated driver.

Simple enough, right? That's at least what Kensaku thought, ignoring the butterflies that erupted in his gut. Setting his phone down on his work desk, he returned to his desktop, only to stare past the blinding letters of his report on the screen. The day could not come faster. The chance to see what he considered the two most attract- Dear! His two most dear friends were something he rarely got to experience. It's been some time since they all got to share a conversation, much less food or drinks. He had a hard time admitting that he really missed them. A lot.

Shaking his head, Kensaku did his best to ignore his intrusive thoughts. Thoughts he had been plagued with for nearly three years… Perhaps longer. Unfortunately, it's been getting harder and harder for the man to push down these feelings. But how was he supposed to go about it in the first place? So many factors conflicted with each other in Kensaku’s mind and it felt impossible to tackle it all at least, to him.

Again, he blinked at his screen and focused on the bold black text. It was best to push these woes aside. He didn't want to ruin Sayaka's night with his selfish desires. Nor did he want to sour his work-relation with Jakurai. Just push it down and ignore it. He's kept it up for years, what another year of unspoken feelings?

【 Saitama City, Unnamed Bar 】

“I love you guyyyysssss…!”

Well.

Shit.

The scientist looked completely stunned by the words that had slipped out. That was never meant to come out, especially a good hour or so into Sayaka's belated birthday celebration. Drinking for Jakurai's share was probably a bad idea, but Kensaku could not dwell on it when the panic alarms were blaring in his head.

He leaned into Jakurai, who was nursing a glass of vegetable juice whilst a slightly tipsy Sayaka sat on the opposite side of the doctor with her own drink. While Jakurai was more preoccupied trying to sit the blue haired man upright, Sayaka seemed equally surprised by the words. She tried to laugh it off half-heartedly, peering around the tall purple-haired man to smile at Kensaku down the bar. “I told you, you shouldn't drink so fast, Kensaku-san.”

“Don't mind Sayaka-san. Here, you should slow down.” Jakurai simply tuts at the bluenette, taking his drink and replacing it with a cool glass of water.

Staring down at the cup, Kensaku pouts childishly, earning a giggle from Sayaka. Looking to her, Kensaku feels bad for becoming a mess so soon. It was hard to hold back, when he knew that his drunk self could effortlessly pull those beautiful sounds from her. Still, he would hate to ruin her day with his mistakes. Sheepishly, he mumbles out his apology. “I'm sorry, Sayaka…”

“It's fine, Kensaku-san! I'm happy that you're having fun. This means a lot to me that you both invited me out.” Sayaka beams at Kensaku, before looking up to chat with Jakurai.

As the two exchanged polite conversation about their children and their work, Kensaku rested his face against his forearm to silently admire the two. The way the bar lights shone perfectly on their hair, the twinkle in their eyes as they reminisced on their personal history. And god, how much he wanted to kiss them. If only they didn’t take his true feelings as a joke.

Of course Jakurai sees his antics as a joke. They've been friends for so long, that doctor has tolerated even worse jokes from Kensaku. Same would go for Sayaka. It should be no surprise that Kensaku’s accidental confession was easily taken as a joke. A chance for Kensaku to brush his mistake under the rug, to continue wallowing in his unrequited feelings. But… It hurt. Being dismissed like that. And his drunken brain wanted to stand up for himself despite the fact a good amount of time had passed since Kensaku's drunken admission.

It was Sayaka who noticed the researcher struggling to sit back up from his position leaned against the oak table. It was before she could ask if he was alright, that Kensaku immediately started grabbing at Jakurai's arm to pull the focus onto himself. Unlike the many other times the group has spent drinking, the typical gullible drunken smile Kensaku would sport was replaced with that of fierce determination.

“I'm being serious. I love you, Jakurai.”

Jakurai chuckles softly as he responds in kind, “As do I, Kensaku-san. I cherish our friend-”

Before he could utter that one dreaded word, Jakurai's words were halted when Kensaku suddenly lifted him by the lapel of his coat to his feet.

“Not like that!”

“Kensaku-san?” Sayaka titters nervously.

Jakurai could only look down at the drunken man, taken aback by the ambush. Unlike Sayaka, he was speechless, simply taking in the words that Kensaku can't help but slur.

“N-Not as friends… I don't want to be friends. I want…” If Kensaku's face wasn't flushed already, he would be smoldering red now as he pushed his deepest thoughts out his mind and through his mouth. “I want you Jakurai. I wanna be with you-!”

Suddenly all strength seems to slip from his leg and Kensaku stumbles forward into Jakurai. Thankfully the taller man is able to catch him, a slight pink shade beginning to bloom on his face. This was getting messy, and fast. If Kensaku wasn't going to sober up with some water, the air outside might do better the doctor concluded.

“Sayaka-san, I-”

“I-It's fine! Here, let me help pay for the drinks.” Sayaka tries to escape the situation, completely baffled by the drunken man's actions. However, before she or Jakurai can say anything, Kensaku suddenly grips Sayaka’s wrist and pulls her towards the men.

“You too. I love youuu…”

Now everyone seemed to be at a loss for words. Jakurai's grip slacks as Kensaku stumbles towards the brunette, curling his arms around her smaller frame in contentment. Softly in her ear, yet loud enough for Jakurai to hear, Kensaku groans. “Stay with me for a little, sweetheart… Jakurai can take care of us. Isn't that right~?”

That teasing reminder was enough for Jakurai to pull himself together and take advantage of the distraction, quickly paying their tab. Taking Kensaku back from Sayaka and having him lean his weight onto him, Kensaku mumbles those damned words again. The doctor was finally getting it. Kensaku wasn't joking. He 'loves' him. But what was that about Sayaka? 

Sayaka is apologizing profusely so Jakurai can lead the way out, all while Kensaku is shouting his confession out the bar with unabashed happiness. This was definitely not what was planned for tonight. The three are all red-faced, despite the fact only one of them was fully plastered from the booze.

Making their way to Kensaku’s car, the two help get Kensaku into the back of the vehicle. It took quite a bit of work, with Kensaku acting much more clingy than ever before with the two of them. Eventually, though, the drunken fool is fastened into the back of the van, and Jakurai and Sayaka are able to sit in the front.

The van washes over in silence. The little hiccups of Kensaku are the only sound that breaks the awkward atmosphere. Jakurai looks over at Sayaka, who is running her hands over her face to confirm the fact her face is heated. They both were blushing. Flustered even, by the drunken man.

It was Sayaka who broke the ice first, “Kensaku-san?”

“Mmm?”

“D-Did you… I mean, who are you confessing to?”

That seemed to bring pause to the man, who slumped against the window of the car. Taking a moment to sort through the jumble of thoughts in his brain, Kensaku finally settled on his answer with a lopsided smile. “Both~”

“You mean…” Jakurai whispers.

“I love you b-both, Sayaka and Jakurai!” He states seriously, between a hiccup. “I-I want to be with both of you. I c-can’t pick… I want to be selfish. I want both of youuu...”

Well that answered it. The two front passengers looked at each other's crimson faces, unsure of what to do or say.

Minutes went by before Jakurai wordlessly starts the car and began to drive. As time passed, the drunken mumblings from Kensaku started to fade, they were replaced by light snoring sounds. Sayaka looks back bashfully, watching the man sleep. How were they supposed to handle this situation? She had an inkling that he had felt something more for her, but for Jakurai as well? How peculiar that he was stuck with the dilemma of picking between the two of them… Could this be a resolution to her own romantic plight? But that would mean Jakurai would have to love both of them back equally.

Amid her contemplation, Sayaka's attention was brought to the slow halt of the car. Looking out the window, she noticed that Jakurai had gone to her home to drop her off before Kensaku.

Unbuckling her seatbelt, the brunette goes to open the door only to be greeted by the purple-haired man doing it for her as he politely escorts her. Out the car and down the walk to her house, Sayaka stops at her door and takes a deep breath.

“Look, Jakurai-san.” Sayaka begins, “If Kensaku-san doesn't remember anything, do you-”

“No.” Jakurai retorts back bluntly. “No, I… This isn’t something we can just ignore.”

“A-Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“But what if-”

“Would you be opposed to being in a relationship? The three of us, that is.”

For the umpteenth time, Sayaka was taken aback. Jakurai reciprocated both their feelings? Genuinely?

“Y-You?”

“I was originally interested in you, Sayaka. For years, I held romantic feelings for you. But recently I began to feel for Kensaku in the same way… To think he was facing the same problem,” Jakurai almost sighs in relief, chuckling to himself in disbelief. “...It eases me to know that it was mutual between us.”

It takes a moment before Sayaka can find it in herself to speak and stop gaping. “Jakurai, I…”

“Sayaka.” Jakurai stops her, clutching her hands as he gazes down at her amber eyes with his own icy blue hues. “I want you to save your response for tomorrow. I'd like for us to sort this issue properly. The three of us together.”

She frowns, but nods in understanding. It's best to tackle their relationship with a clear mind. Both Kensaku and Sayaka had alcohol in their system, unprepared to make such a huge decision. That said, she gives a disappointed smile to Jakurai as she speaks. “Then keep him safe, Jakurai.”

“I promise.”

With that, Jakurai departs from the Miyuki residence leaving Sayaka to stand idly in her doorway. It took quite a bit of harsh whispering from Lola to finally drag her into the house. Despite the model’s hushed prying for juicy details from the night, for once Sayaka was too caught up in her thoughts to properly answer any of her questions. After all, she just might be able to earn the love she craved from the two men she had been pining for.

Official? Yeah, I guess. Hope this works out and now they can immediately get married lmao

@saitama-division

[naralanis]

little bumps in the road (pt. 6)

Previously...

they don't talk for quite a while after crossing the river into tennessee. lena needs some time to process this new information, and kara seems to sense this need. the blonde goes back to staring solely at the road ahead, occasionally tapping little rhythms on the steering wheel and humming little songs under her breath -- though she'll often stop herself, as if she thinks that lena needs complete and utter silence to sort her feelings out.

lena doesn't. she can appreciate the humming, even -- kara has a lovely voice and carries a tune well, and the distraction is a welcome one from the complete mess she's trying to unravel in her mind. it creates a soothing pace to the crops and occasional cows speeding last lena's window, almost lulls her to sleep despite her tangled lines of thought.

it's late afternoon and the sun is going low, low, low in the sky when kara finally says something.

"there's a motel a few miles ahead. we'll stop there for the night," she says, but then she quirks her head towards lena briefly, eyes hopeful. "if that's ok with you, i mean."

lena stops staring through the passenger window for a moment -- she's been looking at miles and miles of crops and farmland as far as the eye can see, and her eyes are beginning to glaze over.

"of course."

she studies kara’s expression, wondering why she’s suddenly giving her any sort of say at all on where they’re going. kara just looks ahead, maybe a little sheepishly. 

“ok, then.” 

the motel is… well, it’s a motel; it’s not any nicer than any of the other ones they’ve stayed at recently, but it’s also not any worse, either. they check into a single room -- kara rarely has lena out of her sight, minimizes those occasions as much as she possibly can -- but on the way there, the blonde spots a payphone, right by the corner of the building, and shoots lena a look. 

“do you mind if i…?” she doesn’t finish her sentence, but she doesn’t need to; she simply cocks her head towards the payphone expectantly. 

“go ahead,” lena says, trying to give her a heartfelt smile for… encouragement, maybe? she doesn’t know if she succeeds, but kara smiles back earnestly and turns on her heel to walk briskly to the phone, hand already reaching into the pocket of her jeans for another roll of coins. 

the keycard takes a few tries to unlock the door, but eventually the lock clicks and lena practically stumbles in, dropping her worn duffel on the floor, right there by the entrance, onto a rug with some questionable stains. she feels exhausted, mentally and physically drained to a degree she can’t recall ever experiencing before. 

it’s been hard, lately, to get her thoughts in order, but lena suspects that’s nothing to be too surprised about. she’s used to compartmentalizing--it’s one of her talents-- but right now the knowledge that alex danvers is the one hunting her fills her with dread. even if alex knows her sister is alive (she was the one to revive kara after all, according to kara herself), she still doesn’t know that kara is essentially harboring a fugitive. she still thinks lena is running out of her own volition. 

she still thinks lena meant to kill kara. 

that thought doesn’t mix well with the multitude of other worries swimming in her head, at the moment, doesn’t sit well in her chest and makes her stomach curl uncomfortably into knots. 

lena’s not so out of it that she misses kara’s fumbling with the lock, but she does almost miss the look of defeat in the blue gaze once kara finally gets the keycard to cooperate. 

kara sinks into one of the chairs by the little table in the corner, sighing audibly as her whole body seems to deflate. 

“no luck?” lena tries, and kara shakes her head in the negative. 

“nope,” she murmurs, popping the ‘p’ as she digs little shapes onto the cheap wood of the table with her nails. “nothing yet.” 

lena nods--she’s not sure what to say, here. she’s a little conflicted on how she should feel about kara finally getting in touch with alex--part of her wants answers, but a much bigger part of her is terrified of an agent danvers on the warpath. she knows alex would move heaven and earth for kara, no question about it, but with lena in the picture?

she’s not so certain what the reaction would be. she’s not sure she wants to find out. 

“are you hungry?” kara asks, breaking her grimmer trains of thought. “i grabbed a flyer for a pizza place nearby--looks like they do delivery. personally, i think we could use a break from the cup noodles.”

lena smiles a little. “i haven’t had so much instant ramen since college, i think.” 

kara laughs, and it sounds so...so free, unreserved, so alien to their current predicament, it’ almost easy for lena to join in, too. it’s not even a funny comment, not a particularly snarky observation, but for some reason they’re both having a small giggle fit and it feels good, cathartic even, to be sharing a laugh with kara again. 

“well,” kara quips, yanking the crumpled flyer out of her pocket and smoothing it over the tabletop, “i don’t think tey have that fancy kale monstrosity you liked to order at gino’s, but at least it’ll be better than instant ramen, right?” 

“right,” lena chuckles. “just… get me something with at least a vegetable in it, for the love of god.”

kara makes a face, but she’s still smiling as she reaches for the phone. “as you wish, as you wish,”  she says dramatically, muttering there’s no accounting for taste, really and tutting under her breath while she dials. 

lena smiles--wide and real, she can even feel her eyes crinkling at the corners--as she listens to kara rattle off their order (three large pepper--you know what, better make that four--four large pepperoni pies, wait, no, extra large, and then…) and, unbidden, her mind seems to get stuck on a different time, an entirely different reality, when she and kara would just… order pizza (though kara limited her order to two large pizzas back then), watch movies, and just talk about everything and nothing until the sun came up. 

lena misses that peace. 

kara seems to be in the same wavelength; she has a wistful look on her face once she hangs up, as if she’s reading lena’s mind, experiencing the same brand of nostalgia in the same moment. 

lena has to break it; it’s too painful to wallow in it. “kara? can I ask you a question?” 

“Hm?” kara hums distractedly, craning her neck to look at lena’s direction with a little smile. “just one?” 

“wel. no, not just one,” lena admits, trying to organize her thought again. there’s just so much she wants to ask, so much she needs to know, and she’s not sure where to start.

kara just waits, her gaze unwavering. 

“back in national city,” lena starts, picking a lane and sticking with it, so to speak. “ when you… when you died… when alex brought you back… who exactly brought me to you? it couldn’t have been alex, if she doesn’t know i’m with you.” 

kara looks pensive for a moment, steepling her fingers over her thigh. “what do you remember?” 

lena has struggled with precisely that for the past couple of weeks. the truth is, the time between watching supergirl drop like a rock from the skies and being shoved into the jeep with a kara that was very much alive is a complete blank.

“pretty much nothing after you fell,” lena answers honestly, and she looks to kara for an explanation for this significant gap in her memory, but finds nothing. “but then… someone took me from somewhere and suddenly… and there you were. who was that?” 

for some unfathomable reason, kara looks amused. “oh,”  she chuckles like she can’t help it. “that was nia.”

lena can feel her own eyes bugging out. “nia?? are you telling me nia nal put a bag over my head and basically kidnapped me?” 

kara snorts. “that’s exactly what i’m telling you.”  she turns serious, suddenly, and her lips tighten into a line for a moment. “alex prepared the jeep and a few supplies, but nia had a dream--a vision that she wouldn’t explain. she just told me to take you with me, and I wasn’t about to argue.” 

lena can’t lie to herself, she’s a little hurt, but definitely not surprised, that bringing her along had not been kara’s intention. she chooses not to dwell on it -- there’s already far too much to dwell on. “oh,”  she says instead, looking for words. “what happened between the time you were… recovering and the time we ran off? was i not…” lena stops, struggling to remember but drawing nothing more than a blank. “was i not arrested or something?” 

it occurs to lena that she has no idea how much time it took kara to recover, or what happened to her while alex nursed her sister back to life. she can’t explain how kara survived; she can’t explain what happened between her fall and their escape, she can’t explain how lex hasn’t found them yet. 

kara can only shrug her shoulders. “i don’t know. alex sent me to the jeep’s location the minute i was well enough to not need the sunlamps; when i got there, nia was already there with you. didn’t exactly have the time to argue--lex would definitely find out i was alive if i stayed in national city.” 

“ain’t that the truth,” lena quips bleakly. a thought occurs to her. “frankly, i’m surprised he doesn’t know. he owns the DEO in this reality.”

“thank rao for small miracles,” kara mutters. “we sure need them, the way things are going.”

another thought occurs to lena--she thinks back to the past few days, but more specifically, to mere minutes ago, when kara was gouging faint little marks on the wood of the table with her nails--something so trivial, something she used to do herself as a child, bored and anxious at boarding school-- and she realizes with sudden clarity that there’s a lot that she can’t explain--but one thing seems to stick out, glaringly.

“kara,” she says, trying to add up the days in her head and not liking what she comes up with at all. “it’s been at least two weeks, right?” 

kara nods, looking grim as if she knows exactly what lena is about to ask. “give or take, yeah.” 

lena’s question comes out as a statement, and at the exact same time someone knocks on their door, startling them both. 

“and you still don’t have your powers.”

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

<< Previous || Next >>

[xhanisai]

My scattered heart and mind, Revolves around you tonight

AO3 / FFN

Summary: 

 "Ple-eeeeeease, Nino? Certainly, you must have some caffeine-fueled beverage hidden somewhere! You're the best drinks supplier I have! Anything with caffeine or sugar would do! Those super strong energy drinks you gave me were literally lifesavers and if you have anything that's even half as good as that, I will give you a hundred- no- two hundred salted caramel macarons! I'll even crush up some pecan nuts and mix it with the fillings, just the way you like it!" . Nino was fucking sold.

A.K.A 

The fic where Marinette wants a super strong caffeine beverage, Adrien wants her to be healthier and Nino is just a slut for macarons.

And Alya is the powerhouse of the group.

RED MOON - KARD Pairing - Adrinette Prompt - 'Energy drinks'

~(x)~

.

.

.

"Nino. I need a stronger batch. ASAP." A wild, sleep-deprived Marinette slammed her hands against the boys' desk, not even twitching a brow when the duo flinched from the sudden impact. The blonde of the two composed himself promptly, a flash of concern quick to plaster on his face as he took in her dishevelled appearance whilst the other boy simply gaped as if she's grown two heads. Or that might have been so much tamer compared to what he just concluded. "What the hell!? Marinette, that brand is the most strongest out there and even I barely managed to get my hands on them- and jeez dude, it hasn't even been a week and you're already immune to it!??" He leaned in closer, eyes quickly glancing around to see if anyone else was paying attention save for his cautious seatmate and then lowered his voice to a whisper. "Not to mention it's not exactly legal in France!" The betrayed, heated warning look he received from his appalled best friend on the side caused him to shift away from him by a tad, whistling innocently whilst Marinette scrutinised them both with glazed eyes. "Quoi!? Nino! I thought Alya managed to stop you from giving her any more of that crap! That stuff isn't good for your health at all!" Adrien then swivelled around to face Marinette, not knowing what to do with his hands other than wildly gesturing them around. "And you! You were supposed to start easing yourself off those energy drinks and get more rest." He decided to grab her hands with his, squeezing them with good measures as his brows remained furrowed, hoping to get his point across if his words weren't enough for the sweet girl. "Look at you, you can barely stand."

"I know, I tried. But even after sleeping decently, I get stupidly tired and exhausted even just by staying awake for only two or three hours." The designer sighed, completely unfazed by the boy's touch as she was far too drained to comprehend anything properly- everything still hazy and dreamlike in her vision currently. Had Adrien not been so anxious over her state, he would have cooed at how adorable her pout was. "It will take time, I know. That's why Alya advised that you drink some water whenever you feel sleepy or at least eat something nutritious like some fruit or vegetable sticks. They will help." The model's tone softened, thumb rubbing comforting circles on the backs of her hands and eyes full of nothing but adoration and affection. "You have been doing that, right?" He was met with a shy, guilty look from her. "Marinette..." He tutted disappointedly, eyes narrowed further as she continued to avert eye contact, cheeks blossoming with her standard sakura hue that he spotted whenever she noticed he was nearby. Pushing that stray thought aside, he beckoned for her to sit down by him on the shared seating, practically sandwiching her between him and Nino as he ruffled through his bag for something. "I've got some vitamin water with me that's really good for you and also doesn't taste like rubbish- lemme find it-" "It's okay- you shouldn't waste it on me. Unless it's stronger than the drinks that Nino gave me, I'll probably pass out on my desk regardless," Marinette's protests were left unheard, her expression twisting from a genuine bashful look to one equivalent to an angry kitten the minute she made eye contact with the drink bottle Adrien fished out of his bag. "Oh no...not that..." "Yes, that, Marinette." Adrien pushed the healthy concoction into her hands and then clasped his fingers around hers anew with a determined gaze. "Just because it doesn't have any caffeine or added sugar in it, doesn't mean it's not good-" "Nino, please tell me you have a can of Monster on you? I'd even settle on a Red Bull. Anything but that lemon flavoured water thing he's trying to make me drink!" The bespectacled teen almost caved in to the bluebell puppy eyes. However, the sight of his best friend's warning death glare behind her was much more persuasive and he'd rather not deal with the crafty blonde's wrath should he give in Dupain-Cheng. The last time Nino triggered Adrien's wrath was when he ate the model's share of the Dupain-Cheng's freshly baked croissants by 'accident' at one of the class' many picnics; his delicious drinks were somehow swapped with vile tomato juice and his luxurious crisps and hearty sandwiches were magically replaced with tasteless prunes and bloody cabbages. And Nino fucking hates cabbages! "N-Nope. Sorry dude...I had the last can this morning...hehe..." He wasn't prepared for her crestfallen expression and almost scrambled to tell the truth instead because nothing is more monstrous than making Marinette Dupain-Cheng cry! Thankfully, Adrien grabbed her immediate attention, reattempting to get her to drink the healthy juice much to her dismay. 'I'll let you handle this one bro. It's the least you can do after almost scaring me shitless with that glare of yours.' "-You don't need to drink the whole thing. Have a few sips and you'll feel so much better-" "No." "Please?" "No." "Come on, don't be so stubborn-" "Oh, I'm stubborn? M. 'Drink the damn flavourless juice' guy???" Marinette finally pushed the bottle back into Adrien's hand, scoffing and facing Nino so that her back was towards the deadpanned model. Nino couldn't help but quietly snicker at the clear frustration that was plastered on the usually composed teen's face and how he clutched the bridge of his nose. The Moroccan boy admired the French-English's boy's persistence. "Mari...it's not flavourless. It has subtle flavours of lemon and orange and a hint of mint- something you should be able to taste unless those energy drinks have already destroyed your palette." Resorting to drastic measures, Adrien leaned his chin on her shoulder, fluttering his lashes and mustering the cutest, sweetest kitten eyes he could ever manage. "Just one sip? That way you won't pass out on your desk? I promise?" Had Marinette not been sleep-deprived, she would have faltered right away. Heck, she would have faltered the minute that Adrien offered her the drink, happily gulping down the whole bottle just to appease him despite her strong distaste against the flavour. Too bad for him, she's severely sleep-deprived. With a soft flick against Adrien's forehead, earning a surprised mewl from him, Marinette leaned back towards Nino, hands clapped in a praying motion and eyes glittering with unshed tears. "Ple-eeeeeease, Nino? Certainly, you must have some caffeine-fueled beverage hidden somewhere! You're the best drinks supplier I have! Anything with caffeine or sugar would do! Those super strong energy drinks you gave me were literally lifesavers and if you have anything that's even half as good as that, I will give you a hundred- no- two hundred salted caramel macarons! I'll even crush up some pecan nuts and mix it with the fillings, just the way you like it!" . Nino was fucking sold. His stomach rumbled delightfully at the idea of those delicious sweets, his hunger and greed for the goodies overtaking what little rationality he had left and even powered through the nightmare that was Adrien's death glare as the blonde repeatedly gestured to refuse the offer. The little dignity he had left was what stopped Nino from drooling on the spot as he clasped his hands over Marinette's. "Really!? Two hundred!?" All the teen could see was the Goddess that was the bone-weary Marinette, her presence like the sun and Adrien's pestering logical thinking like a shadow being whacked away. Nothing will get in between Nino and those macarons. "Yes! That's what I said!" "With extra, extra pecan nuts? And that cute drizzle of caramel on top? A-A-And whipped cream on the side?" "Absolutely~" Just as Lahiffe was about to agree to the deal, his vision was suddenly filled with red, courtesy to his disgruntled best friend pulling the tip of his cap forward as he leant over the girl. "Adrien!? Dude!? What was that for!?" Nino hastily fixed his hat back in place, his scowl nowhere near as effective as the fashion mogul's son's, the taller of the three placing his hands on Marinette's shoulders whilst still behind her. "What was that for? Oh, you deserved far worse. Look at the state she's in- ya think she'd be able to make two-hundred macarons like this!?" As if to emphasise his point, Marinette simply blinked back, almost nodding off to sleep. Nonchalantly, Adrien placed her on his lap, pressing her face into his chest and wrapped his arms around her, all the while glowering at Nino- which should have been a comical sight for the latter had he not known the consequences to evoke such annoyance. "Of course I don't expect her to make it right now. Just down the future..." "A future where she'd be so much more knackered and exhausted cos a certain someone won't stop giving her that heart-attack juice like an idiot-" "But Adrien! Macarons...MACARONS." "You can go buy them from her parents like the rest of us-" "B-B-But...handmade Marinette macarons, Adrien!" "THERE'S MORE TO LIFE THAN MACARONS-"

"Ehem."

.

All of a sudden, the blood that was flowing through the duo's veins was replaced with icy dread and incredible fear from the sound of a certain,

familiar

angry voice. Adrien couldn't help but gulp, holding Marinette tighter and leaning back, away from the person up at the front.

.

"What's this about Lahiffe supplying Marinette the bad juice behind our backs?"

.

One could describe that at that moment,

Alya's

figure was looming and filled one's soul with

horror

from the way that fire blazed in those hazel eyes and how her voluminous hair practically floated behind her out of rage.

.

Though, no one was more fucked than Nino Lahiffe.

.

"You reap what you sow, buddy..." Was the last thing that the pitiful teen heard from his best friend as he was mercilessly hauled away by his girlfriend, his wails of help and apologies falling on deaf ears...

.

.

.

~(x)~

A/N: Looks like someone's grounded from super penguino for a good while :D Lemme know what you think in the comments!

[walviemort]

Fairy Godfather, part 2

Summary: The fairies have asked a monumental favor of Killian: be the surrogate for their babies—all nine of them. He’s been pregnant before, but this? This is a whole other level. What has he gotten himself into? And just how big will he get?

A/N: Another update! This is kind of consuming me so you’ll be getting these pretty often, I hope! thanks to @sancocnutclub for all her encouragement ;)

rated T / 2.2k words / part 1 / AO3

He didn’t wake until mid morning the next day, and was still fairly fatigued, but otherwise felt alright—just a bit tender about the middle. 

A shower helped dissolve most of the lingering soreness, and he took some time in front of the mirror to look for any changes. 

Given that his stomach had never returned to its previous hardened state, it was hard to notice any discernible change in shape, but when he poked around, there was definitely a rounded area that hadn’t been there before. 

He also took a moment to memorize his body as it was; it wouldn’t be long before the babes made their presence visibly known, and the changes that happened while pregnant with Hope were still fresh in his mind. He was both glad that Belle was keeping track of his stats, and already dreading it. 

But she was probably waiting for him, so he needed to get a move on—and something to eat; he was starting to feel peckish, but couldn’t tell whether or not it was more than usual. 

His normal jeans still fit comfortably, albeit a hair snug. It wouldn’t last long, but he’d relish it while it did. At least his shirts would last longer; he’d found a new appreciation for the forgiving cotton knits of this realm in his second trimester. 

Emma was already at the station when he got downstairs, but she’d left behind plenty of pancakes, and he ate a few more than normal; he wasn’t sure how to interpret that. 

Before heading to the library, he went to pick up Hope from her sleepover with her grandparents. David greeted him at the door, with tiny Ruth asleep on his chest.

“So, how’d it go?” he asked, hardly able to keep his eyes away from Killian’s midsection.

“Fine, as far as I could tell. Weird, but fine.”

“Did it hurt?”

“No, thankfully, but I’m sure there will be plenty of aches and pains later.”

David winced. “Man, am I glad they asked you and not me. This one was enough,” he said, patting Ruth’s back gently.

“I don’t disagree, but…”

“But you feel like you owe them,” David finished. 

“Aye.”

“Well, I think it’ll be the other way around by the end of this, but we’ll help you out as much as we can.”

“I appreciate it—and I’m sure we’ll need it with this one,” he replied, nodding at Hope, who was attempting to escape out a window.

She was easily wrangled, though, and happy to see him. He had no idea what fairy infants were like, but if they were half as charming as his daughter (who definitely took after her grandfather), this whole town would revolve around them.

As he thought, Belle was waiting for him, tape measure in hand. “Seriously?” he griped as he set Hope down next to Gideon in the playpen behind the circulation desk.

“You can’t possibly be surprised,” she threw back. “But if it’s any consolation, I won’t do it again until next week.”

“You only did it monthly last time around.”

“You were only carrying one babe.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

Though his waist measurement remained unchanged, his weight was slightly higher (more than could be expected by a few extra pancakes). “I can feel it,” he confirmed when she asked. “There’s definitely something in there, though I only notice it if I go looking for it.”

Belle made a note and then flipped back and forth between some pages. “That matches up with when you found out you were expecting Hope; so do your measurements, and that was, what 8 weeks?”

“Yeah, thereabouts.”

“Second pregnancies do show sooner, too.”

“Especially this one,” he grumbled. 

“Oh yeah,” she agreed.

The day continued normally, although his hand did gravitate to his stomach pretty often, without thinking about it. Even if it wasn’t noticeable, he still knew what was there, and his subconscious seemed to have already set out to protect it—that, or his hormones were already starting to affect him. 

Based on his reaction when Emma arrived that afternoon—particularly to his train of thought when she bent down to pick up a napping Hope—it was definitely hormones. His jeans felt a very different kind of tight then; something he acted on later that night, after a slightly larger than usual dinner. 

“Those hormones kicked in fast,” a sated Emma breathed as they came down from their shared high. “You haven’t been that voracious since we found out we were having a girl.”

“Are you complaining?” he panted. 

“Absolutely not.”

“Good.��� And they went for another round. 

In fact, he was so insatiable the next couple of weeks that, despite his elevated appetite, no other discernible change in his weight was noticed; his waist actually went down a bit.

“Are you feeling alright? Keeping food down and everything?” Belle asked, worried, as she recorded his 2-week measurements, comparing them to his 10-week from his first pregnancy. “Last time, you couldn’t eat more than chicken rice about now.”

“Trust me—I feel more than fine,” he assured her. “Were it not for Emma’s implanted contraception, we’d likely need to be planning for a more traditional pregnancy.”

“That’s a very eloquent way of saying you can’t keep your hands off your wife.”

“I could have phrased it crudely—how many synonyms for ‘sex’ did you want Gideon to learn today?”

“None!” she exclaimed, covering her son’s impressionable ears. He was at the age when he repeated anything said around him—a fact they noticed when Gideon’s favorite phrase became “bloody hell.”

“What are uncles for, though?” he teased with a wink. 

Belle just groaned and threatened to teach Hope how to read with romance novels. Killian, however, was just glad she slept through the night so she didn’t interrupt the real thing. 

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

Where there had been some hubbub about town during Killian’s first pregnancy—and quite a lot of gawking—no one seemed as shocked this time around. They’d made no effort to keep it a secret, letting the Storybrooke rumor mill do its job, but either the town was more aware than Killian had been about fairy reproduction, or they had become jaded to such magical oddities (he assumed the latter).

That said—he had to assume the gawking would eventually return. 

Especially with the way Granny was feeding him. To be fair, she wasn’t letting him overindulge, but he’d noticed his portions were larger, and the amount of vegetables increased. He wondered if Blue had given her some nutritional instruction, or if it was just her innate grandmotherly instincts. 

The first time she slid an extra helping of broccoli over, he tried to protest, delicious as it looked. 

“Oh no—eat up, young man,” she commanded. “If my math is right, you’re eating for 10. I should probably be feeding you more, actually.”

Emma snickered next to him—they were on lunch break from the station—but he wasn’t sure if it was at Granny’s tutting or the fact that Killian had just realized the magnitude of…well, all of it. 

So when Granny slid some extra onion rings across the counter, he didn’t complain (but obviously shared them with his wife).

He wanted to blame it on those extra treats—onion rings, fries, pie, muffins—when they noticed an expansion in his waist measurement at 3 weeks, but it was definitely the babes; he could still wear his normal jeans, but was seeing some rounding behind his navel. 

And at 4 weeks—a month since the babes were transferred—it could finally be deemed a bump: there was a gentle curve to his whole stomach, from just under his pecs to his hips (which had been aching a bit as they widened some, likely in anticipation of the heavy load to come). Given the way he and Emma’s evening activities hadn’t slowed, he knew it was all the babies. 

Belle hummed as she compared the notes she’d just taken with those from last time. “Well, that’s interesting,” she commented.

“What is?” Emma asked; she’d joined them for that week’s check in, curious to see where things were.

“This week’s measurements match up with those from the end of the first trimester last time, which I suppose isn’t a huge surprise, but…”

“But I have a lot more to go than two trimesters,” he finished.

All eyes were on his stomach for a long while after that, likely all wondering the same thing: just how large would he get?

The only thing that took their attention away was the ringing of the bell over the door as someone arrived—Blue, it turned out. “Hi,” she greeted, clearly trying to be casual. “Just wanted to stop by and see how things were going.”

He wasn’t naive enough to believe she’d stay away from him for the duration of the pregnancy, although he had expected more subtle surveillance.

They chatted briefly about how he was feeling, and she studied his stomach with an outstretched hand, he assumed to do her own magical assessment. “Yes, they seem to be doing quite well; that’s good.”

“Did you think they weren’t?” Emma quipped.

“No, of course not,” Blue assured her. “Would it be odd to express my excitement?”

Well, they all understood that. “How long has it been since your last brood?” Belle had to ask.

“Over fifty years,” Blue answered. “They’re usually every five to ten, depending on the solstice.”

“And when you don’t have a series of curses in the way,” Emma added.

Blue glanced over Belle’s notes with interest. “That does seem to match up with past broods, though I don’t think anyone ever thought to take such detailed notes.”

“Are there any?” Belle asked. “I don’t have anything here, but if you had some back at the convent, it’d be great for comparison.”

“I’d have to check our library,” Blue answered. “There might be a few scrolls, but we’re not much for recorded history.”

“I can tell,” Belle complained.

After some more chatting, Blue excused herself, but did ask if it was alright if she checked in periodically.

“Of course,” Killian said. “It’s your brood. Plus, I’m certain we’ll need to take you up on the offer of help sooner rather than later, if this is where I’m already at after only 4 weeks,” he added, gesturing to his still-small bump.

“Absolutely,” Blue said. “Oh! I almost forgot.” She pulled her wand out of nowhere and twirled it at Killian’s midsection. His skin grew warm for a moment, but then returned to normal. “I’m not sure if the original spell will account for the size, as far as how it treats your skin; that should eliminate any damage.”

“No stretch marks?” he wondered.

“No—not any new ones, at least.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

She then left as quickly as she appeared.

“Guess that’s something we’ll have to get used to,” he sighed, and then they went about their day. But he was starting to grow very concerned about what lay ahead for him; he knew this wouldn’t be a small feat, but was worried it would be more than he could handle.

As time progressed, his bump steadily grew, though not unnaturally so. At 5 weeks, it was yet more noticeable; at 6, he finally had to concede defeat and dig out his maternity jeans, though they were still plenty roomy. By the end of the second month, he wasn’t quite where he’d been at the end of his second trimester, but it was definitely a baby bump—roughly where he’d been around 24 weeks with Hope, even though he was only at 8 with this one.

It was around then, though, that he noticed the first flutterings inside. He thought he’d noticed it the week before, but chalked it up to gas or something like that; Granny had been feeding him a lot of black beans lately. But late one night, after yet another glorious session of lovemaking, Emma’s hand had drifted to his belly and even she took notice.

“Wow, they’re actually starting to move in there, huh?”

“Seems like it. You don’t suppose they actually have wings already, do they?”

“Normal babies hardly have limbs at this stage, so probably not.”

They lay peacefully in the afterglow for a bit, before he asked quietly, “You are okay with this, right?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d ask, nor was it likely to be the last. But it was a large undertaking and though she hadn’t exactly protested, he knew it wasn’t something she’d have volunteered for.

“For the hundredth time, yes. Even if this was partly fueled by guilt, I know you probably would have agreed anyway, and that big heart is why I love you so much. And can I say something else?”

“What’s that, love?”

“I was so attracted to you with that baby bump last time, even when you thought you were massive. So as long as your libido holds out, I think we’re both going to be very happy.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm, I think I might need some convincing.”

“Then let me show you.” And oh, she did.

Gods, he prayed he’d be able to do that for a while. The next several months were going to be very interesting.

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

thanks for reading! tagging @wyntereyez @jennjenn615 @superadam54 @ashley-knightingale @justsomewhump @teamhook @88infinity88​ (let me know if you want a tag!)

[oddsnendsfanfics]

The (Mis)Adventures of Kal and Moose - New Year, New Tricks

Genre: Fan Fiction

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Warnings: Fluffy NYE In

Rating: G

Length: Drabble

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Happy 2021! Shall we start this year off with some Kal and Moose? 

Henry Cavill Master List

“Henry,” You call glancing around his kitchen, “where did you put the mushrooms and broccoli?”

“I left it on the table, beside the noodles.” Calling back, he flipped through the television channels trying to find something to watch.

“Are you sure?” Picking up containers of open Chinese food, your brow furrows. Beside the noddles is a container of wontons,  stir fry, and egg rolls. No mushrooms and broccoli. “I don't see it,” You pout when he walks into the kitchen to prove you wrong.

“It's right...” Henry paused about to point at the take away container. “I swear, I left it right there.”

Beside you, nails click on the floor, Moose is dancing excitedly eyeing the table of food. His blue eyes sparkling with that all too familiar doggy pride.

“Moose,” You glance down at the dog, stretching he wags his tail and boofs. “You know that is my favourite,” You chide the dog, shaking your head in jest at your furry companion.

Under the table, the tell tale sounds of Kal snacking reach Henry's ears. Rolling his eyes, he sighs. He should have known better than to leave that much food unattended. These two dogs were worse than putting small children together.

“I don't think this was Moose's doing.” Leaning over to look under the table at Kal. With the evidence on his face and paws, the black and white Akita rests with the container under his nose. Licking out the remainder, he looks up at his human. “Kal!”

“Oh Bear,” You groan, trying to hide a laugh at the big dog.

Quite satisfied with his meal and himself, Kal shuffles around slowly crawling out from his hiding spot. Pausing a  moment to lick Moose's face, he burps and continues on to the living room with his friend in tow. The two were somehow always on a roll, especially when together. Grumbling about how Kal has had no manner as of late, Henry sits his plate beside yours.

“Here,” Henry began to put his portion on your plate, “have mine.”

“You don't have to share.” You laugh at the situation, leave it to your dogs to eat three quarters of a large vegetable dish. “It's fine, really.”

“I don't mind.” Henry shrugs. “I ordered it for you, I'd be kind of a dick if I didn't let you have any.”

“I'm not arguing this, am I?”

“You can try, but it will be useless. Consider that your warning.” Chuckling, Henry fills the empty spot on his plate with more noodles.

“Thanks,” You accept the offer, grabbing the bottle of beer that you'd sat down earlier and followed Henry to the living room.

“You Mister,” Henry tutted at Kal, “need to learn some manners. Since when have I ever allowed stealing from the table?”

“It was probably done with Moose's encouragement.” You laugh rolling your eyes when Moose attempted to join you on the couch, when he heard his name. “Down, please.” You gesture to the floor. Like a good boy, Moose sinks to his haunches on the floor, intently watching your fork.

“I didn't know what else to watch, is this okay?” Henry gestures to the screen. You were more than happy to watch The Hobbit, it was a solid go to, when you were unsure of what else to watch.

On the floor at your feet, Kal and Moose laid with hopes of dropped food or plates being sat down, unattended and ripe for their taking. An end of an egg roll was passed down, Moose being the lucky recipient, while Kal looked betrayed by his own human. How dare Henry give the other dog the tidbit. Moose may be his best friend, but it didn't mean Kal had to like or agree to sharing Chinese take away with him.

Crunching on the crispy treat, Moose smacked his lips in a loud fashion. Making Kal watch the act for a long as possible. Slouching and whimpering, Kal laid his head on your thigh glancing at your nearly empty plate. Conveniently forgetting about his mushroom and broccoli dish.

“Here ya go, bear.” You smile and slide him a fried wonton. Happily crunching his own treat, Kal licked his lips and whimpered again. You swear you could see him pouting, when you told him it was all gone.

Engrossed in the movie, Henry sat with his feet kicked up on the small coffee table – his mother would smack him if she saw that – enjoying the quiet New Year's Eve in. When he'd called you on Boxing Day asking if you wanted to spend New Year's Eve together, you happily agreed. Even if it was a quiet night in of four, including the two dogs.  There was no pressure. Showing up in your favourite comfy wear was expected and welcomed, as Henry had also been in his. No crowds, but still enough food and beer to feed a small one.

“Nearly midnight.” Henry checked his watch, looking over at you.

“So it is.” You nod and smile. Stifling a yawn, “If I make it.”  

“I could make some coffee.” Henry shifted around. Preparing to stand if you said Yes.

“No, it's fine. If I doze, wake me?”

“If I am still awake, sure.” He laughed softly. Kal standing and stretching, coming to his human for a pat. “We should probably let these guys out, just in case we do fall asleep.”

“Good idea.” You pause the movie, stretching slowly and standing. Calling to Moose, you follow Henry to the back door. Allowing the dogs to bound out into the small garden for a break. “Once we hit midnight, are you going to walk me home? I need that dark haired man to cross the threshold first,” You chuckle at the superstition.

“It only works if it's well after midnight.” Henry furrowed his brow, snickering. “I'd have to do it in the morning, or there is no luck.”

“So, you're going to let me walk home alone?” You tease, knowing that Henry would never.

“No, I was thinking that you and Moose could stay here. Why rush home? Hot date waiting?” He teased, calling the dogs back in.

“No,” You shake your head, feeling like a teenager defending a teasing over a non-existent crush. Grabbing another beer, you follow the dogs into the living room. Flopping down on the couch, you scoot over for Henry to sit.

“Ah,” Henry continued to tease. “Then we are in for the night? Unless you suggest we run out into the street, at midnight, finding the first person we can and planting a big one on them. You know, since you believe in superstitions.”

“I don't understand the whole kiss thing.” Rolling your eyes, you snuggle down onto the couch beside Henry.

“Are you saying that you don't like PDA?” His laugh is deep.

“I'm saying that I don't understand why people kiss strangers at midnight.” You stretch your leg, scratching Moose with your foot. “You're usually my midnight kiss, aren't ya.”

“Kal is mine.” Henry's laugh booms.

“I've had Kal kisses, they're pretty hard to beat.” Giggles taking over. More than once Kal has attacked your face in a frenzy of slobbery dog kisses.

Because you've never kissed me.

Henry wanted to kick himself, never had he thought about saying such a thing to you. Oh god. You would slap him silly and never come back, if you heard that thought. What kind of person said that to their best friend Clearing his throat, Henry shifted in his spot on the couch, “He does have some charming moves.”

“Like someone else I know,” You lean forward, Henry scooting a little closer. Perhaps this wasn't an entire bust. His heart skipped with anticipation. “Moose, Kal.” You call beckoning the dogs onto the couch. “Yes, you two are such charming gentlemen.” cooing over the dogs, who have invaded the couch you laugh when Moose decides to snuggle in and begin licking Henry's face.

“Moose,” Henry groaned pretending to push the dog away, his laughter giving him away. “C'mon mate.” He gently wrestled the dog from his sneak attack.

“Moose, down.” You giggle, ruffling the fur around Kal's neck. “You can't kiss him yet, it's not even midnight.”

Quirking his brow, Henry sighed as Moose finally gave in. Snuggling up to Henry's side instead. “I thought you didn't believe in midnight kisses.”

“I don't believe in kissing strangers, but Moose isn't a stranger.” You shrug, biting you lip to hide the smirk. “And technically, neither are you and I.”

[hawks-supremacy]

Shibuya Honey Toast

a/n: finally updating, i ended up writing more then i thought i was going to. i just kept typing, it's not much longer than usual but i try to keep the written chapters a little short.

warnings: none

words: 1.9k

Masterlist

You turned off your phone and quickly got dressed, it was fifteen minutes before you had to meet the guys and it was a ten minute drive and even longer walk so you were hoping you could convince Shinsuke to give you a ride there so you wouldn’t be late. You made your way downstairs to where your grandma was in the kitchen cooking something. “Hey grandma, is it okay if I go out with some friends today?”

She stopped her actions of kneading dough to turn around, “Sure Boo, where are you going?” she asked as you walked around her to pick some of the fruit next to her off of the counter. “We were going to go to that new ramen place that opened up, I also need a ride. Do you know where Shin is?” She pushed the fruit and the cutting board towards you and motioned for you to start cutting the fruit, “Gran I told you I have to meet with my friends I don’t have time to help you today.”

She waved her hand dismissing your statement and motioned to the fruit, “Shinsuke is in the shower sweetheart. He just got back from being in the field he wanted to get the dirt off. You have time to kill, help a poor old lady out.” You rolled your eyes sending a text to the group chat that you were going to be late and had to help your grandma before you could leave. “You aren’t some helpless old lady, I’m pretty sure I saw you doing chin-ups in the garden the other day. What are we making anyway?”

She turned around and continued to knead the dough on the counter, “I decided to make Shibuya Honey Toast. That used to be our guys’ favorite so I thought I’d make you guys some.” You nodded and continued to chop up the strawberries in front of you. “You know it’s been a while maybe five years since I last helped you make this, but from what I remember of other people making this, they don’t usually make their own bread for this.”

She tutted at you as she shook her head, “You know my policy Boo, if it’s not made by hand it’s not made from the heart.” You both laughed and fell into silence while you finished doing your current tasks. About five minutes later Shin came downstairs asking how everything was going. “Well I just put the bread in the oven to bake and Boo here just got done cutting up all the ingredients we need after the bread is done baking. They need a ride into town to meet with some of their friends, do you think you could do that please?” He nodded and walked over to the fridge grabbing a bottle of water when someone knocked on the front door, “I’ll get it.” Shin said, running to the door. A few minutes later he came back into the room with three six foot rowdy teenage boys, two of which were too busy arguing.

“Osamu, Asumu, Suna? What are you guys doing here? You’re supposed to be eating ramen by now, not at my grandma’s house.” You laughed as you walked over to greet them, hugging Atsumu and Osamu, and giving Suna a crisp high-five. You ushered them over to the kitchen table asking if they wanted anything to drink. Atsumu was the one to answer your question as you got their drinks from the fridge, “We were on our way to the place when you texted so we turned around and came here instead.”

You nodded and turned your head to glance at your grandma who was leaning against the counter with a smirk and her arms crossed, “So which one of the twins is it Boo?” You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Neither of them Gran.” You said at the same time as Kita said “Give her a break Gran.”

Atsumu raised his hand signaling that he had a question, “Y/n, why did she call ya Boo?” You groaned again, was it embarrassing Y/n day? “When they were a kid they were obsessed with trying to scare people so they would hide around corners all the time and yell “Boo!” all day. It was just the cutest thing. Not to mention that their first word was Boo.” After explaining the reasoning behind the nickname all three boys turned to look at you, “You guys want food? I think I’ll make us lunch since we ended up not going out to lunch. Why don’t you guys go watch Tv in the living room or something, what do you want?” You got up walking to the counter to start taking out ingredients. “Why don’t ya make Onigiri? And ya know what? ‘Samu can help ya with it, it is his specialty after all.”

You agreed and began to cook the rice, everyone except for Osamu went to the kitchen. On her way out your Grandma stopped by you and whispered, “So it’s the grey haired twin huh?” and went to the living room after winking at you. You turned to Osamu who was rolling up his sleeves to help you cook and walked over to the fridge, “Do you want to fill them with anything? We could do tuna mayo, umeboshi, I think we might have chicken. We could also do multiple so we have a variety and they could choose.” You looked up from glancing in the fridge and saw Osamu giving you the tiniest of smirks. “I’m rambling aren’t I?” You asked and he nodded, “Oops. So what do you want to do?”

He shrugged, “Let’s just do all three, ‘Tsumu is a pig and will eat anything we put in front of him.” You raised your eyebrow in an accusing manor, “Are you sure it’s Atsumu that’s the pig? I haven’t known you for long, but I’ve seen you eat.” He rolled his eyes and began to mince the chicken you handed to him while you got out the umeboshi and the ingredients needed for the tuna mayo. “Can you hand me the soy sauce, mirin, sugar and sake?” Osamu asked after he was done cooking the chicken. You brought over the needed ingredients and peered over his shoulder as he added all of them into a pan.

“What are you doing?” He asked looking over at you and nudging you with the arm he was using to stir the chicken with. “You look ridiculous standing on your toes like that.” You shrugged falling back onto the flat of your feet, “Sorry not everyone can be over six feet tall. I’m done making the tuna mayo so right now I’m just waiting on you. So I was watching you cook.” He gave a soft chuckle before telling you that that was a weird thing to do. “I don’t think it’s weird. I like watching people do what they’re passionate about. You see them get in this sort of zone where they don’t think about anything but that thing. I loved watching Toru play volleyball because it was his whole life, I can tell it’s the same thing with Atsumu and with you it’s cooking.” During your little speech you sat yourself on top of the counter.

Taking the chicken off the stove and setting it on the counter Osamu leaned into you, “So when do I get to watch you do something you’re passionate about?” You were about to respond when you heard a cough from the kitchen entrance and he quickly moved away from you and you slid off the counter. “Now Y/n what have I said about sitting on the counter?” Your grandma said walking in to take the fully cooked bread out of the oven to finish making her shibuya honey toast. “You told me not to.” You mumbled as she said “I told you not to. So what was that I walked in on.” You stopped forming the onigiri that was currently in your hands, “Gran can we not talk about it, please?” She waved you off with a “Yeah sure, just saying you guys would make a cute couple.” You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed.

Osamu looked between you and your smirking grandma and cleared his throat, “I agree with your grandma, I think we’d be a cute couple.” You whipped your head towards Osamu, he shrugged and mouthed ‘what?’. You gave a silent laugh and shook your head finishing the onigiri at the same time Gran finished the shibuya. Setting everything on the table you called to the boys in the living room to come eat lunch.

A few minutes after sitting down to eat Atsumu broke the silence, “What happened, why are we all quiet?” You and Osamu mde eye contact at the question and had a silent conversation before Osamu spoke, “We’re eating ‘Tsumu, some of us don’t like to talk with our mouths full, pig.” Atsumu scoffed in offense, “Excuse me, I’m not the one who eats constantly.” It wasn’t long before they started a full blown argument. Everyone watched for a few minutes before Gran broke it up and told them to sit down and eat or get out. After the argument was done Atsumu and Osamu sat back down, previously ready to jump across the table to attack each other. Everyone sat down and finished eating, making small talk here and there. You went to go do the dishes when your Grandma shooed you away insisting she had it. “Grandma Kita let us help, we made the mess.” Osamu tried to convince her to let you guys do it but if you know anything about your Gran it’s that she’s stubborn. “Hon go have fun, pick fruit in our field or something, and please call me Grandma Yumie, you’ll be family soon enough.” She replied, turning around and starting to clean.

You turned around, hand on your forehead walking out of the kitchen with Osamu following you, “I swear to god I’m actually going to put her in a home. I apologize for her behavior, Hajime has to go through this every time he visits or sees her.” He nodded as you guys exited the house to the back where Shin, Suna, and Atsumu were.

Shin was in the middle of trying to convince Atsumu to do something productive while he was here. While Shin did work in the field earlier this morning there were still a few things that could still be harvested. It didn't take long for him to convince Atsumu seeing as how he practically worshipped the ground Shin walked on, Suna however wasn't really jumping for joy at the idea of doing field work. After a bit of convincing and a lot of bribing and promises of chuupets he finally agreed to help for a few minutes.

The rest of the day was spent picking various fruits and vegetables while laughing and making fun of each other over old stories you told each other. After a few hours everyone had to go back to their respective homes and call it a night.

Tag List:

@officialfictionalwreck @uglystupidbxtch @chloji @mynscorner @halesandy @elianetsantana @kaleidoscopekai @browneyespinkhair @rinsangel @marvel-ing-at-it-all @writersandroses @lilith412426 @noodlenerd101 @bakugouswh0r3 @redheadedpineapple @chantalkate16 @confusedturtle @yqshirov @kazewo @kit-kat428

[verfound]

WIPWed: Festering Edition: 6/2/21: WINTERS

@bloody-no-kissu @tenshiyuna & two (?) Nonnies...y'all thirsty for those snake dicks, huh? 😂

So as of right now, here's the Winters folder:

The first two (Winters Can be Lonely & Longest Night) are already done/posted. The Bedtime Story is the file that started the whole mess (and most of that file is in the original Winters), and the 'Bandit' part is...something I might go back to but needs serious consideration. (That note from the original Winters about the chapter that got Real Dark Real Fast? That's the Bandits part. It started going in a direction I wasn't comfortable with, and while I like the concept/idea there are parts of it that need major tweaking if it's ever going to get posted.)

"Summer Skin" is...ok sorry MA I'm throwing you under the bus. 😂 @mamanabeille's new pet gave her a heart attack the other day when he started shedding, and after we all knew he was ok & the drama was past my Plunny Brain went "...oooooh What If." Bc did you know when lizards shed their skins they flop over all dead-like and scare their poor mamans half to death? 😂 I don't have anything for this beyond notes, bc it literally just happened, but the idea is it's the first summer after they've mated and Luka didn't warn Marinette about shedding. Chaos ensues.

"Human Feet" is one Bloods prompted with the idea that Luka, not having spent a lot of time around humans, is fascinated by Marinette's feet. It's set within the first few days after they met, when Marinette comes back to the river to chat up this fascinating snakeman she just met, and she goes for a swim that puts her bare feet on full display. (There's a Tarzan-esque scene where she kicks him in the face and everything. I'm 90% sure I'm writing this one just for that scene. 😂)

"A Day in Your Scales" is another DQ & totally because of her Naginette fic The Magic of You. It's still getting hammered out as to setting/etc, but the initial idea was Marinette was having a moment of insecurity, wondering if Luka regretted mating a human, and made the mistake of sharing this fear with Rose. Rose, being the oh-so-helpful fae sister she is, tries to cast a glamour on Marinette that would make her a nagi for a day - except it backfires and also turns Luka human. And it's supposed to just be silly, fluffy learning how the other works/communicating/shenanigans (like, y'know, Luka learning how to walk).

Rose left before Luka returned, though she was loathe to leave Marinette alone with her concerning thoughts. When she relayed their conversation to Juleka, the nagi’s surprised expression mirrored the one Rose had worn.

“Ssssshe’s worried about what?” Juleka asked, her tail flicking behind her in agitation. Rose groaned as she threw her hands up in the air.

“I know, right?” she cried. “She’s being silly! How long have they been together now? And Luka’s crazy about her – like hell he’d actually leave her!”

“Luka is fierccccely loyal,” Juleka hummed in agreement. “Even if it was in our cussstom to leave a mate, he would be unlikely to. Not Marinette.”

Rose hummed, her troubled gaze on the vegetables she was chopping for their dinner. Juleka shifted again, looking at the mushrooms she was cleaning without really seeing them.

“…did ssshe ssssay why?” she asked, looking back at her mate. Rose shook her head.

“Not really, no,” she sighed. “It…kinda came out of the blue? We were talking about Anarka’s visit, and then she just…got really quiet. You don’t think it was Ma, do you? You don’t think she finally met Anarka and got scared off?”

“If our father hasn’t ssscared her off yet, I highly doubt Ma will,” Juleka scoffed. The ghost of a smile flickered on Rose’s face at that, but it didn’t really last. Juleka reached out and laid a hand on Rose’s shoulder. “I’m sssure it’sss nothing, love. Marinette may be a witch, but ssshe is ssstill human. It’ssss natural to have ssssuch doubtsss.”

“I never did,” Rose tutted, and Juleka rolled her eyes with a smile. Rose squeaked as she moved, quick as lightning, to jerk her away from the table and wrap her serpentine half around her. She loomed over her fae mate, a knowing smirk on her face. Her tongue flicked out, scenting the air around them. Rose loved when Juleka took charge like this. She could smell the sudden shift in her mood, from worried to aroused, and she savored it.

“You are Sssídhe,” she hissed, stroking the backs of her fingers along Rose’s cheek. “You have always been more…accussstomed to our world than Marinette. Ssshe ssstill has much to learn.”

…Juleka immediately knew, despite her intentions, that it was the wrong thing to say. Rose’s eyes had widened in delight, that familiar I Know How to Fix This! light gleaming in her sapphire depths. Juleka’s hand cupped her cheek, and she tapped her with a claw.

“Rose, no,” she said, but Rose only pulled her down for an enthusiastic kiss. She groaned when Rose pulled away and immediately began shimmying out of her coils. “Rose.”

“Oh, relax!” Rose tutted, waving her off. She winked at her over her shoulder, and then disappeared with a pop, her words echoing in the air around them. “It’ll be fine!”

Juleka sighed and picked up her cleaned mushrooms, carrying them over to the other vegetables to finish preparing their dinner. Despite what Rose said, she knew her mate. She always meant well, but…

Her eyes landed on the charmed hat hanging by the door. Rose always meant well, but her plans also always had a way of backfiring on them. She just prayed Rose knew what she was doing.

[anxiouslyfred]

A Plot of Land

Summary: Janus and Virgil want to own their own home. Their ideas over what type of place they’d like are very different though

Authors Note: Anyone watched ‘Half a Sixpence’? Cause this is largely inspired by the scene between Flo and Artie when they first get married. Flo is Virgil

/\/\

It was a dream to own their own home. A dream that both of them imagined differently, no matter how much they agreed on other things, and now, one that was possibly going to come true.

Virgil had never disguised who he is or what he wants from life. The upper class world was a stranger to him, one he only wished to glimpse from serving stations in the catering jobs he occasionally took. He didn't want a mansion, or even a house in one of the posh areas of town. Somewhere small a little further from the centre than his apartments always had been would do well enough. Maybe if he was lucky they could buy a cottage with a small garden for him to grow some herbs and vegetables in, after all, gardening was his favourite way to relax as seldom as he was able to do it.

He knew Janus would never settle for a cottage though. They wanted the world to stare in jealousy, wanted to have a house that could be shown off to magazines and they were set on getting it. Apparently even if that meant having it built on an empty plot of land that used to be a business lot.

“Why are you showing me a dump, Janus? I thought you said you'd found us a home.” Virgil scowled out the window at the abandoned lot near a city park that people had been fly tipping on for probably decades now.

They tutted, waving a finger in front of him. “I have indeed. You just need to use your imagination. I'm thinking, a three story town-house, plenty of guest rooms for our friends and my business partners to stay in, a large dining room, possibly even a more intimate one and the flower garden you've always dreamed of.” Janus described, one hand on Virgil's shoulder as they waved over the lot as if painting a picture of the house in the air.

“I want a vegetable and herb garden. Where the hell did you get flowers from? Also why the hell would I let smarmy gits into my home? It's meant to be somewhere I'm safe and can relax, not that I get all the cardio exercise I need just going to get breakfast in the morning.” He shoved them off, forcing them both away from the window given he was sat on that side of the car.

“Darling, we can have whatever you want in the garden, and I'd only ever let the smarmy ones on the first floor. You don't need to be concerned with that.” Janus soothed, allowing the distance between them as they used it to pull a folder out. “And if you need help imagining it, I've had some concept art and planning sketches made.”

For a moment Virgil just looked between the empty lot and the pages they were still pulling out. “How about no to everything? Can't you just use like hotels for this smarming and showing off and leave our home as just somewhere small and comfortable? Like cottage core is a major thing on social media currently.”

“Darling, I thought we were trying to buy our own home purely so we could show off how well we manage on our own. What's the point of not going for gold?” Janus's voice remained soothing but their brow furrowed slightly in confusion.

“Jay, I've literally always said I want a small home, maybe a cottage for us to have a vegetable patch in the garden of. How does that translate into, well, this?” Virgil hissed, pulling the top page out which had a fancy Victorian style build shown on it. “Besides, building materials are not cheap, no matter the amount you spent on this lot. Where are we getting the fund for this from?”

Janus took the sketch from him gently, straightening the edges for a moment. “I've got quotations that show we should be able to get loans enough for the building. The landscaping we'd have to work on ourselves which seemed like a great project for us. You could share your knowledge of gardening with me.”

For a moment Virgil was quiet, counting his breaths and trying to calm down from the anxiety of going through the building process for any home, let alone the one Janus was suggesting. “Okay, that does sound lovely, but please, can we have somewhere smaller? Neither of us want to be in debt from this for a long time even if we're earning a decent amount currently.”

“We own this land now, so we can decide what to ask for planning permission to build and get quotations for over the next few months.” Janus offered. They weren't ready to fully give up on their town-house idea, but agreeing to look for compromises and at what's sensible with their money was necessary. They'd work together to get their home now, even if this had been a decision made only by Janus.

[rvmmm21]

. you’re gonna spaghet it .

summary : a home-cooked meal and a baking show is too much to ask for. but only when the person asking is seungwan.

small note : i'm tentatively back. and here's the worse news. you get this pile of 'what-the-fic-is-this?!' before i start clonking you over the head with my leg of yandere ham.

think of it as your pre-christmas coal in your stocking.

(this sat in my drafts for so long its not even funny. if i had a cent for every second i spent thinking about whether i wanted this out here, i'd have accumulated enough for the plane ticket, the lawyers and the hospital fees to fly over to SM to clonk them myself.)

just for tumblr. if you want to read this but in pretty, it’s here.

tw : tickling, probably many grammar errors because i do not know how to write anymore, and my cretinous knowledge of how tv recordings work.

[irene x white-winged dove!wendy]

. . .

[6:15pm] A mischievous smile tugs at her lips when she sees how Seungwan struggles.

. . .

Bae Joohyun blithely watches her girlfriend titter around the kitchen preparing vegetables for the chopping board. When the sound of water beginning to boil reaches attentive ears, she secretly smiles at the melodious hum of a happy tune.

Everything is going as planned!

However.

Pangs of guilt are beginning to tweak at Joohyun’s conscience. Because what she really wants to do is not to be a good girlfriend and offer a hand at stirring the pot. She doesn’t even want to sit patiently and wait to hear Seungwan sing out for her when dinner’s ready.

No. Joohyun wants to play. And she knows who she wants to play with. Even though it’s going to be a complete setback to the lovely night she’s sure her Wannie has planned out for them.

It was Seungwan’s idea to cook tonight, then eat together while they watch their favourite TV program. Pfft, ‘their favourite’. What Joohyun really means is she’ll happily watch the season finale of the unorthodox cooking show her girlfriend is currently obsessed with.

. . .

“It gives me ideas, unnie,” Seungwan had explained when, about a week ago, Joohyun had walked in on a very experimental game of muffin-making.

The latest episode of “Baking for the Seoul” flashed through Joohyun’s memory.

“Don’t the ingredients have to be… in the bowl, though?” she asked incredulously, eyes searching for any part of their countertop that was actually visible.

“Hm?” Seungwan looked up, wiping the frosting off her nose… with the wrong hand.

Joohyun raised an eyebrow. “And which one are we putting in the oven, your sludge mix or you?” She inquired, now searching for any part of her girlfriend’s face – that was actually visible.

When the girl in question stayed concentrated, apprehension bubbled in her gut at the state of that exceptionally thick bowl of frosting. She surreptitiously strained to peer behind a thoroughly battered Seungwan, trying her hardest to not actually step foot into the kitchen.

Her girlfriend has this… ‘thing’ about work space. Especially the kitchen.

“Wan-ah,” Joohyun’s tone was equal parts warning and concern. “You didn’t get any on your wings, did you… that frosting looks too thick and last time you got yourself all mucky, remember we had to – ”

“It’s fine it’s fine, look! I’m being careful!” Seungwan quipped cheerfully, pirouetting round to give a worried Joohyun a glimpse of her wings which were nicely folded through each designated slit in the back of her sky-blue jumper.

The latter breathed a sigh of relief when she saw them; all white, fluffy and – most importantly – clean. She inwardly shuddered at how much of a nightmare that bath was. Thank god she’s behaving this time, she thought.

Although momentary relief didn’t stop her from contemplating an alternative method of keeping her mind at ease.

But the thought of having Seungwan wear her wing guards in their own home tugged at her unpleasantly. It was bad enough she had to have them on when they were out in potentially stressful situations. So she wouldn’t accidentally hurt herself or anyone around her… which had unfortunately happened once or twice before. It was clearly a burden to go about so obviously restricted, and despite Seungwan’s insistence on having grown used to them, Joohyun could always feel how upset she’d get whenever she was helping to do the clasps up behind her.

Definitely no wing guards then. And if that meant Joohyun would be bruising her knees for hours on end trying to keep dense baking mix and her messy baby bird two separate entities, then she’d happily do it.

Whatever kept Seungwan chirping.

Plus, her little chef looked damned determined, so she thought it appropriate to slip in one last passing remark before plucking a banana from the rack. “Yah, Wannie! Let me know if I’m gonna have to pick out birdie feathers from my cupcakes, okay?”

Seungwan grumbled something along the lines of a ‘hm, yeah whatever unnie’ in response.

Joohyun just laughed, heading back to their room and leaving the mastermind to her latest trial.

> > > > > 

[7:00 p.m] Seungwan doesn't know which she finds more horrifying: what Joohyun intends to do to her or the fact that they're going to have to have take-away two nights in a row.

. . .

It should’ve been a simple mission.

Retrieve a fresh packet of spaghetti from the topmost shelf.

Her attempts are… laughable. She’s clearly doing her best.

Though she doesn't realise it yet, she’s still being watched. From the living room, Joohyun is watching. And she isn’t laughing. Hands ball into unconscious fists as a tight wave of numbness washes over her at how adorable Seungwan looks.

Just… like that: both wings tucked against her back, beautiful and neat as their owner. Strained muscles from reaching for something Joohyun already knows she’s going to have to help out with. And the tiny grunts when fingertips barely graze the edges of the packet.

Seungwan looks so soft, so frustrated. So vulnerable.

A small spike of inexplicable adrenaline leads Joohyun to head over to the huffing, moon-hopping girl.

She really needs to teach her little dove that being this cute comes with a price.

. . . 

When a lithe body slides up behind her and presses against her back, Seungwan’s wings give a gentle flutter to mimic the stutter in her heart. She sighs affectionately at the pair of hands resting low on her hips.

The task is almost forgotten. Almost.

Unnie’s here to help, Seungwan thinks… ever so mistakenly.

“Hyun – ahh,” she’s interrupted by a slight shiver when the tip of her right wing is stroked between a finger and a thumb, delicately running across pure, downy feathers. A tried and tested (Bae Joohyun-certified) method of getting the girl absolutely weak.

Judging by the sound of strained breaths filling the space between them, it’s working.

Alas, dinner hasn’t been cooked, the sun’s setting and Seungwan’s time-management brain is screaming at her to get a move on. She points to the shelf, trying her hardest to block out the dangerously wonderful feeling. “Could you – could you please get that for me?”

Instead of complying, Joohyun chuckles, moving her hands from her back to glide them lightly up and down her sides. She isn’t surprised that Seungwan is already shivering, terribly overwhelmed from that alone.

Her smirk twitches when she feels the smaller girl squirm.

Seungwan has always been like this… so responsive, so susceptible to touch. Her touch. She’s jelly in her clutches, and even Joohyun has to admit that sometimes she really doesn’t deserve to be.

Sneaky hands grow bolder, finding their way under the hem of Seungwan’s fleecy jumper to continue tracing teasing lines against soft, sensitive skin.

“But it’s so cute to watch you struggle, baby,” Joohyun coos, beginning to rest more of her weight into Seungwan’s hips, keeping her trapped against the kitchen counter.

“U-unnie,” Seungwan tries, half-heartedly writhing against Joohyun’s hold, torn between wanting to cook dinner and wanting to be dinner. “Not – ah… not right now… it’s already late, we have to – ”

“And you smell so nice. Is this new shampoo?” Joohyun presses her nose into her nape, cutting her short, nuzzling into that pleasant fruity shampoo scent. She then pauses to nudge Seungwan’s legs suggestively ajar with her knee before leaning in to whisper into a ruby-tipped ear. “ Should I give you a reason to shower again later, hm?”

The younger’s eyes widen at the sinful implication.

Gosh, really? Right now? In the kitchen?

The kitchen. The place she cooks and handles food? (Sure, Joohyun will – once in a blue moon – dice the odd carrot or something, but that certainly does not give her the right to be making any unauthorised, hormonal messes for her to clean up). She must be off her rocker if she thinks Seungwan’s going to allow her precious workstation to be tainted by what she can already foresee to be copious amounts of bodily fluid just because someone can’t keep it in their pants.

It snaps something inside her. And – with all the strength neither of them knew she possessed – Seungwan wrenches out from under Joohyun’s weight with a firm “YAH! Stop fooling around!”, sending the older woman stumbling a few steps back.

For a second, they’re just as stunned and disbelieving as each other; Seungwan at her own apprently dormant Herculean strength –

– and Joohyun at the sheer audacity.

Then again, could this be any more timely?

God, Joohyun could kiss herself.

She straightens her blouse, putting on her best ‘I-can’t-believe-you’ve-done-this’ expression, and turning to lock the now slightly (and rightfully so) terrified-looking Seungwan with a stare. This is the best part. The part where she just glares, secretly gleeful as the other girl absolutely crumbles with apprehension.

The part where Seungwan thinks it’s her fault.

“Uh oh,” she tuts, sporting a grin to match that mischievous glint in her eyes, “someone’s in trouble, aren’t they?”

Seungwan is, of course, at a total loss for words, but she fumbles around anyway, desperate to justify whatever the hell she’s just done. It’s almost too much for Joohyun to handle, watching her dig her own grave like this.

Finally, Seungwan tries to back up, only to let out a sharp gasp when she trips over her own feet in her haste. She’s on the floor in seconds with Joohyun immediately following. There’s hardly a chance for her to get her bearings before she’s stuck on her back with a weight straddling her hips.

Seungwan goes wide-eyed. She might as well kiss the prospect of a candlelit dinner bye-bye… for tonight, at least.

“My clumsy, clumsy Wannie,” Joohyun mocks, holding herself above the smaller girl on her hands and purposely tangling their legs together. “Tonight was very thoughtful of you, baby, but I’m postponing our dinner plans to tomorrow night. I think we should order in, don’t you?”

“Ah unnie...” Seungwan groans, failing to ignore the way Joohyun’s predatory expression crayons her cheeks a soft pink, “we had take-away last night! I don’t wanna eat chicken aga – ”

“Then let’s get pizza,” Joohyun offers unhelpfully. She’s clearly got her own agenda that she’s determined to follow through with. “Okay? Hm, let’s see… you have to the count of five to agree with me or…”

She pauses to savour the panic in those deep brown eyes. “I’m going to have a very tired little birdie to take care of.”

That satisfied smirk leaves nothing to the imagination. Seungwan can practically read her fate on her girlfriend's rosy lips before they delve into hers, causing her eyes to roll back as they melt hotly into each other.

Seungwan hardly notices Joohyun lacing their fingers together until her eyes flutter open and she finds herself held down, arms stretched securely above her head. Joohyun adjusts her grip so she has both wrists pinned under one hand and the other free.

Ah, fuck, not again. Seungwan laughs emptily, fidgeting with high-strung premonition. When her one final struggle proves useless, she resorts to asserting herself with her voice. “Yah, unnie, I’m cooking tonight. Stop being annoying or you’re not getting fed.”

Ah, too easy.

Joohyun contemplates elaborating further. But she’s said enough. Besides, Seungwan doesn’t even deserve a response to that. That was a threat, wasn’t it? The prospect of starvation is a serious threat that should be promptly dealt with. And what do you do when you’re faced with a threat? Be that a burglar, a murderer or a very flustered Son Seungwan.

Tickle them. Obviously.

Joohyun leers over her, wiggling her fingers in anticipation. “Five…”

Seungwan’s eyes blow wide, and – with miserable luck – she renews her efforts at breaking free once again. “Hyun! Seriously?! You – I can’t believe you’re d – ”

“Four.”

“HYUN!”

“Three.”

“Okay! Okay! Let’s get pizza tonight! There, happy?! You can even choose the flav – ”

Seungwan hears a scoff above her. “Nope. Sorry Wannie. I made that decision. You’ve changed nothing.”

“YAH, YOU TRICKED ME YOU BIRDBRAIN! LET ME UP. YOU’RE SO DEAD!!”

One click of a tongue and Seungwan has never retracted any statement faster in her life.

“Okayokayokay! Sorry that was super mean! Please I – ”

“Two…”

Too late. She’s dead. She’s one hundred percent about to be on the list of the unfairly deceased.

Seungwan whines hopelessly. “Unnieeeee, you’re not being fair!”

It’s a ditch attempt, but one Seungwan doesn’t intend to miss. “OKAY SERIOUSLY I MEAN IT, GET OFF!”

Joohyun snickers. “One.”

With five fingers and wicked intent, she dives in.

. . .

A pair of pretty wings and an even prettier face make for an impossible choosing.

Even now, as she has Seungwan flat on her back with her eyes screwed shut and tears streaming down her face, she wants to flip her over so she can be blinded by white insulation. So those feathers can brush against her as she drives their owner to the brink of sanity.

She wants to feel her dove respond to what she does to her.

“Hyu – Hyun, p-please!”

Joohyun smirks down at her victim, who’s weakly pawing at the front of her blouse in what she can only assume is an attempt to get her to stop.

Pathetic.

Seungwan never fails to struggle. But then again, she never fails to forget that Joohyun, too, is much, much stronger than she looks.

All that tiresome squirming is easily dealt with. Only a fraction more pressure from Joohyun’s fingertips, and Seungwan’s arms fall to either side, limp and useless just like the rest of her. The only indication she’s even conscious is the violent trembling and – when she’s able to muster up the lung space – the occasional plea for mercy.

Even the laughter is silent.

Joohyun loves it this way. She loves having Seungwan all sweaty and flustered beyond belief; whenever and wherever she pleases, the younger girl is reduced to a quivering mess, trapped beneath her cruel dexterity.

So instead of getting the pasta boiling for a romantic dinner, Seungwan is graciously letting Joohyun have her one-sided fun while she’s forced to cough, splutter and laugh so hard her insides hurt. The reflex to try to buck Joohyun off or twist out of her clutches nips at her incessantly.

Although she really shouldn’t worm around like that, because it’s only making Joohyun’s job easier with how her jumper rides further and further up with every inch she wriggles away.

It almost makes Joohyun think her little songbird wants to be tickled.

“Aw,” she coos, playfully tweaking unintentionally exposed ribs. “So cute, Wannie. You want it here, too?”

Seungwan is breathless from the tickles before she’s even processed what Joohyun’s said. Those tantalising touches never linger on any part of her long enough for her to develop a resistance to them. Not that she could even if she tried. She’s as sensitive as Joohyun is skilled. And Joohyun strikes with dreadful precision, switching between light skittering and then deftly kneading her fingers into every spot that wrings Seungwan’s lungs for all they’re worth.

The smooth tile is cooling against her feathers, even if her wings are twitching beyond her control, trying their hardest to flip her over to give her some shot at escaping. She barely manages to crawl a few inches away before there’s a firm grip on her ankle, all but dragging her back because Joohyun sure as hell isn’t done with her that quickly.

Trying to get away? She cocks an eyebrow, scooting up to sit on Seungwan’s butt, pinning her hips to the floor.

“Oh no, my poor birdie’s flipped herself over,” she feigns concern, gently resting her palms on Seungwan’s wings, stilling their fluttering and holding them steady. The sight of them unfolded, outstretched from the struggle and completely exposed has Joohyun catching her bottom lip between her teeth. “Did you hurt yourself here, Wannie? You need unnie to kiss it better?”

Seungwan shrieks at a pitch that’d have every dog in the neighbourhood cowering when she feels a pair of pillowy lips settle on that excruciating spot right where the arch of her wings meet her back, where she absolutely cannot stand to be touched.

Even under normal circumstances, Seungwan had made her swear to never spring upon her like that. And of course, by virtue of that alone, it quickly became one of Joohyun’s favourite places to touch her.

Luckily she’s too distracted now to protest.

The ‘kisses’ aren’t any less torturous than ten fingers going all at once.

Poor, tired Seungwan hardly has the energy to writhe as Joohyun continues to press her hellish butterfly kisses all along the length of those oversensitive appendages, nosing into her feathers and ruffling them gently with her breath. The younger’s expression contorts into silent agony when she feels the fingers return, this time digging into her armpits. 

Fresh tears well up in the corners of her eyes as she lays there, flailing like a fish out of water, face down with zero leverage to combat her girlfriend’s merciless onslaught.

She’s as defenceless as a turtle on its back (or rather, a dove on its tummy). Her squirms are getting weaker, the laughter more strained, but it’s all so rewarding to her loving tormentor.

Seungwan is kept laughing till the hollow ring of the doorbell sounds through their apartment.

. . .

[An hour post stuffed crust pepperoni pizza with extra cheese]

 Joohyun enters their room just as her girlfriend is getting dressed for bed, freshly showered… again. She lets out a low chuckle when Seungwan catches sight of her in her peripheral vision and hastily pulls the loose necked pajama t-shirt over her head.

“How was dinner?” she asks, arms folded and leaning against the door.

Seungwan rolls her eyes and releases her hair from its bun. “Too much cheese. We need to drink lots of water tonight or we’ll be pufferfish in the morning.”

“Aw, is someone grumpy?” Joohyun gives an uncharacteristically exaggerated pout and the latter hides a shiver.

Good god, please someone save her.

“Unnie, of course I am. We’re going to eat reheated carbonara sauce tomorrow no thanks to you,” Seungwan bluntly retaliates. “You’ve had your fun, now can you stop talking to me like I’m five, please?”

Naturally, her request falls on selectively deafened ears.

“Yah, seriously,” she punctuates the severity by manually unfolding her trembling left wing and pointing at it. “Look. I’m still shaking because of you. Now you're done, I really – ”

That’s all the grumpy talk she’s allowed before Joohyun jump-tackles her onto their bed, pinning her to it and watching sheer panic etch into deep cinnamon irises.

“When did I say I was done?” she asks, suggestiveness tracing the edges of her tone. She hovers above her, bringing a hand up to cup her face.

Seungwan hisses a laugh. “Unnie, I have a limit too, you know. You can’t just keep finding excuses to tickle the crap out of – ”

She chokes on a gasp when she feels a hand – the one she’d been as good as tortured under not two hours ago – trailing down her stomach… slipping past the elastic of her panties and –

– it just reminds her why she’ll always let Joohyun have her fun.

Because no matter how much she laughs, screams, cries or begs, there’s always a reward. Much sweeter than anything Seungwan thinks she could ever bake. Their sex life is anything but stagnant, however this is, more often than not, Joohyun’s way of making it up to her afterwards (much to her approval).

Or maybe she just wants to drive Seungwan to the brink of losing her voice so she won't have to hear the nagging about the next episode of Baking For the Seoul.

Which, by the way, came out tonight. And Joohyun made them miss it. She had better be praying they’d be able to find a copy online somewhere.

Either way, it’s so much more gratifying after an eternity spent howling your lungs out on the floor. Seungwan’s full attention is lasered down to where Joohyun is now softly caressing her under the thin cotton barrier. The warm ache beginning to settle in between her thighs prompts her to try to squeeze them together, but Joohyun catches on and wedges her knees in between them, spreading her even further.

“Ah,” she raises a smug brow as she leans in to press her lips to the base of her ear. Her own eyes darken with lust in response to her little dove writhing helplessly below her. “Be a good girl for me, okay, baby?”

It’s late. Seungwan can barely keep her eyes open. Oh, but she aches so badly.

“Still grumpy, hm?” Joohyun murmurs questioningly, hot breath fanning over Seungwan’s neck and echoing goosebumps over her skin. She glances down at the bulge of her hand stretching the fabric, fingers already coated in slick. Her index finger rubs against Seungwan’s clit. “Feel good, Wannie?”

Hopelessly turned on, it’s all the other girl can do to whimper in agreement.

The pleasing sound of those soft whines escaping right into her ear turns Joohyun’s grin into something downright wolfish. She gives the swollen bud a few more leisurely strokes before retracting her hand completely, leaving Seungwan squirming in anticipation with whatever energy she has left.

Joohyun tastes the arousal on her fingertips. “Mm, I love how small you look right now, in my hands. So small and needy.”

Seungwan pants out a quiet “please, unnie”, clasping a shuddering hand over Joohyun’s and guiding it back down to the heat in her panties. She rolls her hips up into her palm, silently begging for her reward for being such a ‘willing’ participant in the one-sided games they played today.

After letting her gaze linger for a second, Joohyun shifts so she’s lying next to Seungwan. She slips her hand back in and squeezes firmly, revelling in the hoarseness of the girl’s voice. Velvety lips delicately map out her shoulder, and Seungwan has to fight to keep her eyes open to drink in the image of Joohyun pressed up against her, right hand cradled under her neck, propping her head up so they can both see the other one teasing her down her underwear.

It’s when Seungwan turns away to frustratedly pout at the suspense that Joohyun smiles and gives her a quick peck on the nose.

“I’ll continue if you promise not to pass out this time, okay baby bird?”

She bites back a snort watching Seungwan nod like she’s ever been able to stay awake after.

Then she has to bite back another because since when has she ever not continued even after being fed these empty promises, time and time again.

Anything to keep her precious Seungwan happy.

[elisajdb]

GoChi Week 2021: A Fulfilled Life: Part Five

GoChi Week 2021

A Fulfilled Life

Day Five: Jealousy @gochi-week

The marketplace outside Mount Paozu was always lively. Civilians in the surrounding villages came together to sell meats, dairy, fruits, vegetables and other varieties of food from their farms. Goku remembered coming to this place a lot after he married ChiChi. They bought or bartered goods here. When they didn’t have enough money, Goku traded many fishes he caught in the lakes of Mount Paozu for food farmers sold.

It was his first time at the marketplace since his revival after Majin Boo. He saw many familiar faces who were shocked to see him because it was well known he died seven years ago. Goku explained how he was revived but instead of the truth, many chose to believe Goku and ChiChi divorced and recently reconciled.

Today, Goku accompanied ChiChi, Gohan and Goten to the marketplace. Goku and Gohan carried most of the crates of food while Goten carried one.  

“How much more do we need?” Goku asked. The crates he carried weren’t heavy but if ChiChi buys any more crates of food, his vision will be blinded.

“We have to get more food now that you’re back, Goku. Don’t worry. This is the last one. We have to get eggs and milk from Kenneth’s booth.”

Gohan noticed ChiChi getting in line behind the one customer at Kenneth’s booth. “Goten and I can take these to the truck and wait for you and Dad. Let me get one of those crates from you, Dad.” Goku slid a crate of vegetables on top of Gohan’s load. It blinded Gohan’s view. “Goten, wanna guide me to the truck?”

“I sure can!” Goten got in front of Gohan. “Follow me.”

Goku laughed watching Goten lead Gohan through the crowds of the marketplace. As he waited with ChiChi, Goku thought about Kenneth’s booth. Goku knew each booth ChiChi bought or bartered food from. He never heard of Kenneth. “ChiChi, don’t you buy eggs and milk from Mr. Colb’s booth?”

“Mr. Colb died five years ago, Goku. His widow sold the farm to Kenneth and moved to Satan City.”

‘Oh,’ Goku mouthed. That explained that. It didn’t explain ChiChi and Kenneth’s greeting to each other after the customer in front of them left.  

“Hi, Kenneth!”

“ChiChi!” Kenneth opened his arms. “My best customer!”

Goku stared flabbergasted as ChiChi embraced Kenneth and allowed him to kiss her cheek. The crates in his hands were the only thing keeping Goku from separating them. If he dropped the crates like he wanted, they will spill on the ground and ChiChi will scream at him for spoiling their food.

Instead, Goku sized up the guy. Thick black hair, blue eyes, two inches taller than him and judging by the large biceps bulging from his rolled-up red plaid shirt, he was stacked with muscles and appeared to be very strong.

Well, strong by human standards.

Who is this guy?

“Still hiding your beauty in that bun?” Kenneth tutted. “You have such long and luxurious hair, ChiChi. When are you gonna let your hair down and let the world see how beautiful you are?”

Goku’s grip on the crate tightened and his eyes thinned. Who the hell is this guy?

“Oh, stop it,” ChiChi brushed off the compliments. “I may be your prettiest customer but I’m not your best customer. You are my favorite supplier. My sons and I owe you for many meals.”

“I have a soft spot for single mothers.” Kenneth turned his back on ChiChi. He bent to pick up three large crates. “Besides,” Kenneth went on, “you were my first customer and gave me a chance when the others didn’t trust me being the new guy and all. But I say we’re even with the meals you’ve cooked for me.”

ChiChi cooked him food?!

Kenneth placed the crates on the counter. “Your regular order plus something extra.” The bottom crate was marked ‘Chicken’. The middle crate was marked ‘Milk and Cheese’ and the top one was marked ‘Eggs’.

ChiChi patted Kenneth’s hand. “You don’t have to give me the chicken.”

“You have two growing boys,” Kenneth reminded ChiChi. “You need it.”

Seeing ChiChi touch Kenneth’s hand and Kenneth smiling at ChiChi as if he liked her like he likes ChiChi pushed Goku to act.

That does it.

“Who is this guy, ChiChi?”

Kenneth looked behind ChiChi at the new voice. He didn’t notice him until now. “ChiChi, did Goten grow up?”

“I’m Son Goku, Goten’s Dad and ChiChi’s husband,” Goku introduced himself. “Who are you?”

“Husband?” Kenneth looked from Goku to ChiChi. Her smile and slow nod confirmed it. Kenneth turned back to Goku. He scrutinized Goku from head to toe twice before snapping his fingers. “Oh, yeah. He’s the guy in those pictures in your house.”

“You’ve been in my house?”

“Whoa!” Kenneth picked up the subdued anger in Goku’s voice. He stepped back and put his hands up. “It’s not like that.

ChiChi put a hand over her mouth giggling. “No, no. It definitely not like that.”

Goku looked from ChiChi to Kenneth to ChiChi again. What was so funny? It was as if ChiChi and Kenneth shared a special little secret only they knew and he wasn’t privy to.

Only me and ChiChi are suppose to have special little secrets.

“Sorry, Goku,” Kenneth apologized. “I thought you were dead. I guess I misheard ChiChi. You divorced and got back together. Good for you two. ChiChi is too pretty and too good of a lady to be single forever. I’m glad you wised up and got back with her before someone else scooped her up.”

Like you?

“No one could take me but Goku.” ChiChi handed Kenneth his money and two bento boxes. “I made you lunch but I still owe you that apple pie and dinner so how about you come by tonight?”

I thought that lunch was for me. Wait, what about dinner? She wants to feed him again?!

“Sounds like fun,” Kenneth accepted, “but I’ll bring the wine.”

“Can we go now?” Goku was tired of the weird looks and jokes shared between ChiChi and Kenneth. He wanted ChiChi as far away from Kenneth as humanly possible and he didn’t want Kenneth in his house for dinner. He didn’t want this but he knew he had to accept it or deal with ChiChi later.

“I’ll help you carry the crates to your truck,” Kenneth offered.

“I can carry it.” He didn’t need Kenneth to help him and if needed to, Goku was ready to show Kenneth how strong he is.

Kenneth’s eyes went up and down Goku again. They settled on his biceps. “Well, you do look like you can carry them but the crates will block your view. You’ll end up bumping into someone and spilling your food. Let me--”

“I don’t need to see to avoid bumping into anyone!” Goku snapped. “Give me the crates!”  

While ChiChi stared speechless at Goku’s sudden anger, Kenneth cast a sly smile on ChiChi. “You never told me Goku had sass. I like it.” Kenneth picked up the crates and gingerly placed them on top of the ones Goku currently held. Goku didn’t flinch. His grip didn’t slip. If his face wasn’t hidden by the crates, Goku would stick his tongue out at Kenneth for thinking the crates of food were too much for him.

“Wow,” Kenneth stepped from the booth and circled Goku impressed. “You are strong. I would struggle with all the crates you’re carrying. ChiChi,” he winked at her, “you’ve got a strong and passionate husband. I approve.”

ChiChi agreed though his behavior towards Kenneth was puzzling. “I most certainly do but we have to get going. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Bye!” Kenneth waved. “Nice to meet you, Goku.”

ChiChi walked with Goku to make sure he didn’t bump into anyone but Goku focused on the Ki around him and knew which way to step and when to stop as they passed through the sea of people to the parking lot. When they reached their truck, ChiChi decided to talk to Goku about his odd behavior.

“Are you all right?” ChiChi asked. “You were rude to Kenneth.”

Goku gingerly set the crates on the ground. Now he was away from Kenneth, he could be blunt and demand ChiChi to tell him of her history with Kenneth. “Who was that guy?”

Yup. There was no doubt about it now. Goku had a problem with Kenneth. “He’s my friend. He helped out a lot when you were dead. Food he wasn’t going to sell, he gave to me because he knew I have sons to feed. I appreciated it because money was tight. I repaid him with lunches and dinner. He was even kind to fix things around the house. I invited Kenneth to dinner tonight because he replaced the light fixture in our kitchen and I never properly thanked him.”

Goku placed the chicken crate in the truck first. That explained why Kenneth was in their home. “What other things did he fix?”

“He replaced the ceiling fan in our bedroom and he worked on the truck.”

Goku angrily dumped a crate of vegetables beside the chicken crate. “He was in our bedroom?!”

ChiChi jumped back momentarily stunned at Goku’s anger and the sudden change of his eyes turning teal. “Goku, nothing happened.” ChiChi wanted to be serious but the idea of her and Kenneth was laughable. “I can’t believe you’re jealous of Kenneth. It’s kind of flattering you’re jealous but it’s ridiculous.”

“Well, it’s not flattering you had a man in our bedroom, you’re cooking for him and you’re laughing at secret jokes only you two know about.” Goku pointed at himself. “That’s only for us!” ChiChi covered her mouth to stifle her laughs. “This ain’t funny, ChiChi!!”

“Oh, Goku,” ChiChi sobered her laughter. “I guess it’s odd to see me laughing and talking to another man that isn’t old enough to be my father but if I can trust you to be faithful when you’re not with me, you should trust me to be faithful to you.”

Goku trusted ChiChi but he also knew he made mistakes as a husband that would justify ChiChi being with someone else. He didn’t want that and he didn’t like any other man laughing and touching ChiChi like he does. That’s something only for him.  

ChiChi wrapped her arms around Goku’s neck. Her laughter was subdued and her love for Goku was evident in her eyes as she gazed tenderly at him. “You don’t have to worry about Kenneth, Goku. There’s nothing going on between us. You’re the one I love and Kenneth is only a friend. Trust me. Kenneth doesn’t have romantic feelings for me.”

Goku traveled the world and universes and of all the people he met, he knew ChiChi was the one he could trust without a doubt and if she said there’s nothing romantic between her and Kenneth, he knew it was the truth.

“I believe you.” Goku pulled ChiChi against him. “I don’t have a lot of things that are mine, ChiChi, and I want you to only be mine.”

“You have that.”

After a tender kiss, Goku broke away and resumed loading the crates in the truck. ChiChi was pleased Goku trusted her but felt there was something he should know to remove any concerns about Kenneth. “Besides, I’m not his type. You are and he was obviously checking you out.”

“Whaaaa?”

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Rewind Chapter 4 - Fiddleford to the Rescue

Stan started when there was a sharp knocking at the front door. He hadn’t thought anyone was coming – but evidently Ford had known, because he jumped up to let them in. The person who stepped inside was a twig of a man, carrying a duffel bag in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. The guy looked pretty tired – sorta like those people who sometimes slept under the jetty with bloodshot eyes and cans scattered around them. But this man didn’t reek of beer and cigarettes. Blue eyes darted around behind thick glasses before landing on Stan and softening.

“Ah. This is your brother, I ‘spect?” The stranger spoke with a thick accent. Stan hadn’t heard an accent like his before.

“Yes. Thank you for coming.” Ford was a flurry of motion, darting here and there and packing things in a big shoulder bag. “I need to go, I have to get this barrier up as soon as possible. I should be back by this evening. There’s food in the fridge, I’m not sure what bills I’ve paid recently so there may or may not be hot water, and Stanley, behave!”

With that Ford disappeared, the front door slamming behind him. Stan froze, voice squeaking in a totally cool and manly way.

“Wait – Ford? Where are you-”

Yeah, he was already gone. Leaving Stan alone with this strange man. Stan stood self-consciously in the middle of the lounge, hyper aware of those eyes on him. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

The stranger broke the silence first, kneeling down to be at eye-level with Stan. “You must be Stanley. I guess Ford forgot ta introduce us. Wouldn’t be the first thing ‘e forgot.” The guy smiled a slightly crooked smile and held out one hand. “I’m Fiddleford, an old… friend of ya brother’s. I’m here to look after ya for a while. Is that okay?”

“…I guess so.” Stan stepped forward hesitantly to shake the man’s hand. Despite its thinness his hand was rough and calloused, worn with work. His smile was infectious and Stan found himself mirroring it. “You can call me Stan. Everyone does.”

“Well then, you can call me Fidds.” Fiddleford’s bright eyes combed over him for a moment before the man started riffling through his duffel bag. “Now, I got some old clothes of my son’s that I figure will fit better than that shirt. You wanna give it a shot?”

Stan nodded eagerly. “Yeah! Who’s your son? Is he coming too?”

“No, Tate’s in California right now.” The man lifted a couple items of clothing. “Alright, let’s take a looksee at what we got.”

 Stanford’s little brother was cute as a button. Well, twin brother apparently, not that that made much of a difference right now. The boy was all gap-toothed grins and twinkling eyes and curious questions. Fiddleford let him choose some clothes he liked – a pirate shirt and a pair of faded yellow shorts – and helped the little kid get dressed. Stan chatted excitedly the whole time.

“S’weird! I just woke up here yesterday and Ford was all old. He’s grumpier now too. So if this is the future how do we know you? When do I meet you? We probably haven’t met yet while I’m this age right? No, I think I’d remember seein’ you even if you were a kid like me! You got a mem-or-ab-le nose. Kinda like mine!” Stan poked his own pink nose to demonstrate. “’Cept mine and Ford’s are wide and yours is long. Does your son have the same nose?”

Fiddleford laughed and slipped the shirt over the squirming boy’s head. There were so many questions, he figured he’d try and answer them in order.

“Ford is grumpy now, isn’t he? And I’m a friend of Ford’s from college. This is the first time we’ve met at all, so you wouldn’t know me even as an adult with all yer memories. And Tate does have my nose, unfortunately.”

Stan blinked up at him owlishly. Fiddleford smoothed down his ruffled cowlick. “So… you know Ford but not me? Why doesn’t future-me know you?” Then Stan shook his head with a smile. “You said college, right? I bet that’s why! Pa says I’m too stupid for college. But o’course Ford got in. He’s real smart, ya know!” The kid finished proudly. Fiddleford hesitated.

“Your father says…” Stanford hadn’t spoken much of his family. Fiddleford was starting to see why. The idea of a man telling his son – his son who couldn’t be any older then twelve – that he was stupid filled his chest with fire.

Fiddleford tried to stamp out the anger before Stan could see it on his face. No sense in scaring the child. Instead he changed the subject, carefully poking at one of Stan’s hands.

“So, ya got hands like ya brother’s?”

“Oh, no, I just got the borin’ five fingers.” Stan waggled his fingers to demonstrate.

“Really?” Well that was interesting. “But yer practically identical otherwise! Well, I guess it makes sense that yer not totally the same, seein’ as you don’t have the same eyesight anyway.”

“Oh, we do.” Stan chirped, leaving Fiddleford flabbergasted.

“But ya don’t have glasses!”

“Oh yeah, I don’t need em ‘cause I’m not smart.” Stan’s smile faltered for a moment before recovering. “Pa says glasses are expensive and Ford needs his, so I don’t. Hey, you got glasses too! You must be smart.”

Fiddleford once again tried very hard to not let his anger show. He must not have done a very good job, because Stan shrank back.

“Er – I’m sorry?”

Darn it, and he’d been trying to get the little tyke to trust him! Fiddleford forced an apologetic smile on his face.

“You got nothin’ to apologize for. I was just thinkin’ I’d like to have a word with yer brother when he gets back.”

Stan still looked dubious, so Fiddleford tried another strategy.

“You know, I reckon Ford’s gotta have a spare set of glasses lying around. Do you wanna look for ‘em, borrow ‘em for a while? The prescription should be close enough. I got some old books a’ Tates you might like and it’ll be easier if you can see ‘em.”

Stan twisted his hands together. “I dunno. Ford got pretty mad when I messed with his stuff before.”

“He’ll be fine. Besides, I’m just as adult as him. I think I can make decisions without that worrywart around.”

Just as Fiddleford had thought he would, Stan laughed. “Yeah, he is a worrywart! An’ Ford’s let me borrow his glasses before when we were switchin’ clothes to play a prank on Crampelter. So he can’t get mad now!”

The kid seemed to have immediately forgotten about his upset. That made Fiddleford’s smile come a little easier, a little warmer.

“Well, now that that’s settled, how about we go look for those glasses? And we’ll see if you like any a’ these books. Ya feel like learnin’ about isopods?”

“I have no idea what that is!” Stan whooped.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

 _______________________________________________________________

It was nice, Fiddleford reflected, having a child around. He hadn’t interacted with kids since he’d last seen Tate. How long ago had that been…?

Fiddleford made sandwiches for lunch, and they ate while flipping through picture books. Stan especially liked the one with krill and whale sharks. Then the kid had started telling delightful stories about old ships and adventures on Glass Shard Beach, and who was Fiddleford to interrupt?

By evening Stan had worn himself out, and Fiddleford made him a cup of hot chocolate while he decided what to fix for dinner. Of course Ford had little in the way of food. There was some frozen and tinned stuff, but little in the way of healthy foods. Stanford was terrible at taking care of himself.

Fiddleford glanced out of the window at the ever-darkening sky. Sure, he was still hopping mad at Stanford, but… he couldn’t help but worry. Not when the man had been gone all day in the snow. And when his adorable little brother was getting antsy.

“Fidds, when’s Ford gettin’ back?” Stan whined, right on time. “You said he’d be back soon.”

Fiddleford busied himself with looking in the fridge. There were some assorted vegetables lying around, wrinkled with age but not rotten – he could make fritters. Satisfied, he started gathering the ingredients.

“He’ll get here when he gets here.” Fiddleford rooted around until he found a grater. Stan sulked into his hot chocolate. He certainly had Stanford’s stubbornness! Fiddleford wondered if it was a family trait.

As if on cue, there was a commotion outside the front door. Fiddleford tensed. It swung open, and thankfully a familiar figure trudged inside.

“Ford!” Stan squealed in delight. He scrambled from the kitchen table to throw himself at his brother’s legs. Ford, looking snow-flecked and rather frazzled, patted his head absently.

“Yes, yes, hello Stanley. Fiddleford.”

Fiddleford rolled his eyes and continued making the fritters. Trust Stanford to make a dramatic entrance. Still, he eyed the man as he took off his snow-covered coat and boots. Stanford looked… rough. Not physically, but exhaustion was etched into every line on his face.

Fiddleford tutted and poured the man a coffee. Ford blinked as it was pushed into his hand.

“Oh – thank you, Fiddleford.”

“Didja meet the unicorn?” Stan pulled on his brother’s shirt, his own tiredness evidently forgotten in his excitement. Ford sighed.

“Yes, though she still stubbornly refuses to give me any of her hair. I did manage to obtain the rest of the ingredients though, so as soon as I get the hair I’ll be able to ward the house.”

Unicorn hair? Fiddleford was confused for all of two seconds before he shrugged it off. With Stanford, everything was a surprise. You just learned to roll with it.

And now that Ford was here…

“Stan, wouldja do me a favour?” Fiddleford asked gently. Stan nodded. “There should be a blanket up in the closet upstairs, all red and gold with snowflakes printed on it. It’s my favourite one. Could you go get it for me?”

“Sure.” Stan chirped, darting out of the room. Ford made a sound of confusion.

“I don’t remember that blanket.”

“’Course ya don’t, I made it up as an excuse to get Stan out of the room.” Fiddleford put down the grater and turned to meet Ford’s wary gaze from across the kitchen bench.

“…okay.” Ford said. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Stanford.” Fiddleford fixed him with a serious look. “Yer little brother’s a good kid.”

Ford sighed. “Twin brother. We’re twenty-seven.”

“Well right now he’s just seven. And you’d better not mess ‘im up. I’m watchin’ you.” He added with narrowed eyes.

Ford laughed nervously. “Honestly, what do you take me for?”

“A scientist who’s obsessed with his work and has no idea how to care for a child, ‘specially not a child who’s been abused.”

Ford’s eyes widened. “Abused? I can assure you that Stanley hasn’t been abused.”

“I beg to differ!” Fiddleford said sharply. Ford had the audacity to look insulted. “With what the kid’s been tellin’ me, there’s no way he hasn’t been abused. For god’s sake, he doesn’t have glasses when he needs ‘em! And ‘e flinches when I so much as raise my voice – or my hand, for that matter. E’s got bruises all over, too. What am I supposed to think?”

“Stanley… he refuses to wear his glasses.” Ford said weakly. Fiddleford snorted.

“He’s been usin’ yer spare ones all day. Says ‘e likes bein’ able to see for once. In fact, he basically said yer father refused to buy ‘im glasses after his old pair got broken!”

“He’s been wearing my-?”

“Of course you didn’t notice. Have ya even laid eyes on the kid?”

“Of course I have.”

“So you did notice him wearin’ your spare glasses? No wonder ‘e thinks he’s stupid, he can’t read the words on a page two inches from his nose!”

Ford looked devastated. Right now, Fiddleford didn’t care. “But… no, that’s not right. Stanley always told me he hated wearing them.”

“Even besides that, what about the bruises?” Fiddleford challenged. “The kid’s covered in ‘em. And I’m givin’ you the benefit of the doubt here, because I don’t believe you’re the one who’s been roughin’ him up.”

“I – I-”

“So you’ll forgive me for bein’ a little concerned here! What kinda father would I be if I just sat back and ignored this? Yer brother’s been abused, plain and simple.”

Ford floundered. Fiddleford sighed, a little of his anger evaporating.

“Well... I suppose if ya are really twins, ya probably wouldn’t have had a hand in it. An’ I don’t know the full story. But I do know this.” He leveled a finger at Ford’s face. “That kid trusts ya, more than he probably should. An’ we’re gonna have words if you hurt him, or put him in danger, or do anything that’ll cause him harm. The boy’s suffered enough, I’ll not stand around and let it happen again. Ya understand?”

“Yes.” Stanford said quietly. “Yes, I do.”

“Good. Now that’s outta the way, I gotta ask; why on earth didja not tell me about him before? We went to visit Shermie and his kids during that Christmas break a while back an’ no one mentioned another brother.”

Stanford flushed. “It’s… a family matter.”

Fiddleford leveled a cold stare at him. After a moment Ford sighed and averted his gaze.

“When we were teenagers Stanley sabotaged my one chance at getting into my dream college. He says it was an accident, but… anyway our father kicked him out and I haven’t heard from him since.”

Fiddleford held up a hand. “Hang on. Are my ears decievin’ me? You’re telling me your brother, who got booted outta his own home as a teenager, hasn’t been mistreated? My friend, you’ve got issues.”

Ford opened his mouth to argue, but he was cut off by Stan’s return. Fiddleford turned his attention to the sheepish boy who was currently wringing his hands and wincing at the doorway. “Um, sorry Fidds. I couldn’t find it.”

“That’s alright, I musta left it somewhere else. Now, didja wanna help me with makin’ dinner?”

Stan perked up at Fiddleford’s breezy tone, as if surprised he wasn’t in trouble. “Jeez! Can I?”

“Well sure, why wouldn’t you?” Fiddleford flashed the boy a smile. Stan beamed in return and scrambled to join him in the kitchen.

“Pa says cookin’s for ladies and we shouldn’t do it.”

“Well, your Pa seems to be wrong about a lotta things. Now, you know how ta use a grater? I’ll show you.”

Fiddleford could feel Ford’s gaze searing into his forehead. He flicked his attention up from Stan and cooking, just for a moment, to catch the conflicted stare. Ford looked away when their eyes met and cleared his throat.

“I’ll just – um – put these ingredients away for later.”

“You do that.” Fiddleford agreed coolly.

Stanford walked away, more subdued than usual. The sight of his slumped shoulders was enough to send a spark of guilt through Fiddleford’s chest. He knew he was being too hard on the guy – especially with how wrecked Ford was looking – but his blood boiled for this gap-toothed child with his cute curls and nervous laughs.

Fiddleford couldn’t comprehend the idea of kicking out his son. The idea was as foreign to him as the idea that they should all put sticks of butter under their hats and walk on their hands instead of their feet. Tate was his son – his boy, his child. Fiddleford was sure that there was nothing Tate could do that would made Fiddleford throw him out. The idea of Stanley and Stanford’s father kicking out a helpless teen? No matter what mess that teen had gotten himself into, it shouldn’t have happened. He felt a fierce protectiveness rise up in him.

No, and it most certainly wouldn’t happen again. No kid was getting kicked out on his watch. Nor hurt, even unintentionally by an oblivious scientist of a brother. Fiddleford would make sure of it.

He made sure both the Pines boys were fed before packing up his things with the promise of returning tomorrow. Stanley hugged his legs with a surprisingly strong grip – Fiddleford crouched down to return the hug properly.

“I had a real good time today. We’ll have to do this again some time, huh? Now, you got my phone number? Good. Call me if you need anything. Especially if that brother of yours gets into any trouble, okay?”

“Yes sir!” Stan saluted enthusiastically. Fiddleford laughed and ruffled his hair before glancing up to meet Stanford’s eyes. Ford was hovering in the doorway, seemingly unsure of whether to join them.

Fiddleford took pity on him and offered his old friend a smile. “I’ll see ya later, Stanford. Take care of ya brother.”

Ford smiled back nervously. And maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

 _______________________________________________________________

Stanford couldn’t smother the huge yawns that bubbled out of him. Curse this sleep deprivation! It made everything harder than it had to be. His sentences kept being interrupted by his own body’s involuntary reflexes.

Stanley followed him like a baby duck – a rather apt description, actually – while Ford bustled around the house. Ford sighed in annoyance when he very nearly tripped over his brother yet again, upon doubling back to retrieve a piece of equipment he’d forgotten.

“Stanley, shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Stan glanced away and rubbed his arm. “Well, I guess. But every time I go to sleep I get these weird dreams. I dunno, I was kinda hoping I could hang out with you?”

Dreams – dammit, Ford had forgotten to warn his brother! He dropped down to be at eye-level with Stan, who blinked at the sudden movement.

“Uh, what-?”

“You’re having odd dreams, correct?” Stan nodded so Ford continued. “Rest assured, they won’t be able to harm you, so long as you never make a deal. If you come across anything triangular or yellow while in a dream you must not talk to it. It will talk to you and try to be your friend. Don’t trust anyone with yellow eyes, even if – no, especially if that person is me. Don’t talk to it and never shake its hand. Do you understand?”

“Um, yeah, but why? This is all soundin’ like Ma’s predictions.” Stan perked up. “Can you tell the future too? Does that mean I can as well?”

Ford sighed. “No, I can’t tell the future.”

“…can you make the weird dreams go away?” Stan questioned hesitantly.

“Yes, when I manage to get that unicorn hair – though I fear it may be a hopeless endeavor.” The weight of the day’s events – how could he ever hope to be pure of heart with all the wrong he had done? – sat heavily on his shoulders. Ford lifted a hand to rub at his forehead. “Go to bed, Stanley, and remember what I said about people with yellow eyes.”

“Yeah, yeah, never make a deal, I get it.” Stan paused, eyes flickering to the journal resting in Ford’s pocket and lighting up. “Can you tell me some more stories from your book before bed? Yesterday we got to the hidey-thing!”

“I don’t have time to read you stories, I have important work to do.”

Stan pouted. He looked up at Ford with those big brown eyes that were bigger than usual. It was then that Ford noticed the glasses – yes, Fiddleford had mentioned them, hadn’t he? Stan was wearing Ford’s spare glasses and they threatened to slip down his nose at every movement, far too big for him. They also had the added benefit of making him look very, very cute.

“How about I lend you my journal?” Ford relented. “You can read it by yourself before you go to sleep. I can tell you other stories later.”

Stan hesitated. “…yeah? I can borrow it?”

“So long as you don’t damage it, you may.” Ford dropped the book in his brother’s hands and turned to gather up an armful of equipment. “Go along now.”

Stanley scurried off to read, and Ford descended into the basement where his work waited.

When he emerged at seven thirty the next morning, Stan was gone.

[jadethest0ne]

In need of Refueling, Chapter 2 - Silken Web

Summary:    “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 1384

Ratings/Warnings:  Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents

Notes: Time for another villain to appear! Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo  for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!

Read on AO3

———-

Red Son stands in front of a decrepit market stand. Shriveled brown excuses for vegetation dust the bottom of containers labeled as produce and cooking ingredients. But the demon he is looking for is nowhere to be seen. He peers into the tented area covered by curtains with an unimpressed glare. Still, the spider insignia on the stand’s sign is unmistakable, so he calls into the gloom with a demanding, authoritative voice. “Spider Queen! I have come to have some words with you. I am looking for something and I think you have the information I seek!”

At first there is nothing. But a soft wind picks up around his ankles and a sultry whisper drifts out of the stand. “Come in…” it says.

Red Son glances around the area, then slips inside the curtains.

“Farther inside…” the voice calls.

Red Son knows a trap when he sees one, but he continues on without fear as he looks around for any traces of trickery. It is dusty and the area seems untouched, except for the circular disk that he just stepped on.

“Right there…” says the voice, and Red Son can hear the smile in it as the disk drops down revealing a trap door.

Red Son gives a tired sigh as he falls and activates flames underneath his feet, slowing his descent on his way down the sudden hole in the floor.

He lands smoothly and kicks up flames around his feet in a circle to push back any potential enemy waiting for him below. It is dark, and he can hardly see anything. He hears some drip of water echo, giving a hint of a cavernous area. A scuttling noise bounces around him.

Red Son holds his palm upward in front of him and brings a ball of flame to life, lighting up his surroundings. He is indeed in a cave, as he thought, and it is covered in spider webs. The webs rustle and bounce as a result of quick movements that Red Son forces his eyes to follow despite them still adjusting to the light. The scuttling and the web movements sweep around him, and he twists around adjusting into a defensive stance as he prepares for what is facing him.

As he turns around he finds who he is looking for directly in front of him. If one weren’t paying attention, one might mistake her as an attractive human woman with long black hair and sparkling green eyes. But her greyish-purple skin and sharp fangs reveal a more demonic nature. Her spider-like body, complete with eight spindly legs with sharp ends come into the light, and she lifts herself high above Red Son, looking down at him with the ease of someone who knows how much power she holds.

“Spider Queen,” Red Son says with as much control as he can, despite an uptick in his heart rate. He takes a bow.

“My, what a polite boy,” the eight-legged spider demon drolls amusedly in an earthy accent. “To whom do I owe the pleasure of visiting me down in my Silken Web Cave?”

Red Son straightens himself up and introduces himself. “I am Red Son - the son of the Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan.”

“Yes, and a fire demon it seems,” she says eyeing the flame in his palm warily. “Spiders like us do not take kindly to fire like that…” Her mouth twitches in a hint of a grimace, but the smile never leaves her eyes.

“I did this so I can see, not so I may harm you… as long as I don’t have to…” Red Son says keeping his expression cool, but a smile of his own twitching at the corner of his lips. “I have come to request your assistance.”

“Assistance?” Spider Queen says with a tittering laugh. “That is amusing! What would I be assisting with?”

“Information. I want to know of any artifact or power source strong enough to kill an immortal.”

The Spider Queen quirks an eyebrow. “Might you be looking to destroy the Monkie Kid? I hear he has been causing you trouble. But I also hear that he is not indestructible. Your flames or a good enough whack should do the trick, I’d say,” she says clicking one of her legs harshly against the ground for emphasis.

“Not the Monkie Kid. The Monkey King!”

“Oh, is he still wandering around these parts!? I suppose that makes sense given that the Monkie Kid has been giving us demons a hard time.” She crosses her arms and looks up, tapping a finger to her cheek. “Well… I don’t know of any specific artifact that could destroy someone as powerful as that…” She again, eyes Red Son’s flames. “Buuuut… I do know of a way to power up your fire in a way that might allow you to gain the upper hand in a fight against him.”

Red Son’s eyes light up and the fire in his hand flares with his excitement. “Really!? Magnificent! Tell me! I must know!” He grins widely and wickedly, barely containing himself.

“Hahaha, you lose your manners so quickly when you are excited it seems,” Spider Queen laughs without joy. “Why would I give you such information without anything in return? What do you have for me?”

Red Son’s grin doesn’t falter, spreading further to show his teeth. “Oh, I hear that you’re looking for rare and powerful ingredients, and I have some for you right here.” Red Son pulls a pouch out of his pocket and opens it to reveal dark hairs sticking out of it. “The Monkie Kid’s hair, leftover from his defeated clones. I’m sure that's worth a little bit of information, now isn’t it?”

Red Son can tell he’s got her interest by the way that her eyes glimmer with no help from the flame he wields.  She stretches out a hand, and two of her all too sharp legs reach toward him as well. “Yes!” she says, as if entranced by the sight of the hair.

“Uh, uh, uh!” Red Son tuts as he brings the bag close to the fire in his other hand, causing the Spider Queen to stop her advance. “I want my information first.”

Spider Queen’s smile tightens, and this time it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You’re a shrewd little boy. But yes, I will tell you.”

Red Son smiles and listens intently.

Her posture straightens and with a flick of her wrist she spools out a strand of thread that begins to take shape into an abstract picture of a flame. So skilled is the puppetry of her silk webs, that the false flame seems to dance. “The power you are looking for is called ‘The True Fire of Samadhi.’”

As she weaves her story, so does she weave pictures into her web. She creates the image of a ring of mountains around a taller one. “You must seek out the Flaming Mountains surrounding the Monkey King’s own Flower Fruit Mountain. He knows not that his own weakness lies within the very fires that seemingly protect his solitude.” The abstract map-like picture shifts to a mountain to the left, with an opening about midway up. “In the tallest eastern mountain, there is a cave that leads to a shrine that can only be revealed by the rising sun. In there, you will find the power you seek.” Spider Queen releases her webs, letting them dangle, lifeless. She shifts her stance and her speech from storyteller to businesswoman in a second. “Is that enough information for you, sugar?”

Red Son nods enthusiastically and hands over the pouch. “I will be on my way, now.”

Spider Queen picks her finger through the hairs in the pouch as if counting gold coins. She certainly handles the pouch as if it were just as precious. “Oh, and one more thing, sweetie,” she says, waving an errant hand over her shoulder. “A warning, since you seem like quite the impatient type. The power there is as old as the mountains themselves. It has the power to overwhelm if found in the wrong hands.”

Red Son scoffs, barely giving her words a second thought. As if there were any fire that he couldn’t handle. He leaves, having gotten what he came for.

<-- previous // next -->