#so i used a towel and the counter. improvise

[gothamitepride]

From valentine's day, my little sister got me a little heart and OH MY GOD IT'S SO CUTE

There's a tiny little maze in it. She knows I love puzzles and puzzle boxes, so she got me this and said, "Well, it's technically a puzzle box... a maze box!" SHE'S SO SILLY MY HEART

[l4ndonorizz]

looser cooks dinner / lando norris

pairing: lando norris x reader

song: blindheart - digital memories

summary: a rainy day ruins lando’s plans, so he crashes yours instead. What starts as trivia and teasing quickly turns into a game of "never have I ever"—and things get a little too real when feelings get involved

wc: 2k

The steady rhythm of rain pattering against your window was the only sound in your cozy living room as you sat curled up on the couch, flipping absentmindedly through your phone. The plans you'd made for the day were officially canceled thanks to the downpour outside, and you’d resigned yourself to a quiet afternoon indoors. A little disappointed, sure, but a rainy day at home wasn’t the worst thing.

Just as you were about to settle into a Netflix binge, a familiar sound pulled your attention—someone knocking at your door. You frowned, glancing out the window where the rain was coming down even harder now. Who would be out in this weather?

When you opened the door, your frown melted into surprise. Standing there, completely drenched but grinning like an idiot, was Lando Norris. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his hoodie soaked through, and droplets of rainwater dripped from his nose. Despite his bedraggled state, he looked utterly unbothered.

"Lando?" you said, struggling not to laugh. "What are you doing here? It’s pouring!"

Lando shrugged, wiping the rain from his face with the back of his hand. “My plans got canceled,” he said, stepping into your apartment without waiting for an invitation. “Figured I’d come to hang out with you instead.”

You closed the door behind him, shaking your head in disbelief. "You didn’t think to call first? I could’ve told you to stay dry."

He grinned, kicking off his soaked shoes. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You sighed, grabbing a towel and tossing it at him. "You’re ridiculous."

Lando caught the towel mid-air, already rubbing it over his hair, water droplets falling onto your hardwood floor. "Yeah, but you love me for it," he teased, winking in your direction.

Your heart did that stupid little flip it always seemed to do whenever he was around. Rolling your eyes, you walked toward the kitchen, trying to ignore the way your stomach fluttered. "Do you want some tea or something? You look like a drowned rat."

"Sure. I’ll take whatever you’re having," he called out, following you and dragging the towel through his hair. "What were you up to before I heroically saved you from a boring afternoon?"

You laughed, filling the kettle. "Heroic, huh? I was just about to put on a movie or something. Not exactly thrilling."

“Good thing I showed up, then,” Lando said, leaning against the counter and flashing that mischievous smile that always made your heart race. “I make everything more exciting.”

You shot him a playful look. "Big words for someone who looks like they just swam through a monsoon."

He smirked, his eyes sparkling as he leaned in slightly. "Maybe I just wanted an excuse to come see you."

Your breath caught in your throat at the teasing glint in his eyes, but before you could respond, Lando pulled back, grabbing the tea towel hanging by the sink and starting to dry off his arms.

The kettle whistled, saving you from having to come up with a reply. As you poured the tea, the atmosphere in the room shifted, the rain outside creating a soft backdrop to the moment between you two.

“So,” Lando said, breaking the quiet as he sat at your small kitchen table, “what’s the plan, then? You got a movie picked out, or are we improvising?”

You handed him a steaming mug and shrugged, sitting down across from him. “Depends. Are you in the mood for something chill, or are you going to make us do something ridiculous?”

Lando’s grin widened, his playful side kicking in. “You know me too well. I was thinking…we could go for a walk. Maybe grab some food somewhere.”

“In this rain?” you raised an eyebrow. “You’re not dragging me out in that mess.”

“Okay,” he said, sipping his tea. “what about some indoor games? But…” He leaned in, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “only if we make it interesting. Loser cooks dinner.”

You laughed, already feeling the competitive spark in the air. "What games?"

You handed him a steaming mug of tea and shrugged. “Depends. Are you in the mood for something chill, or are you gonna make us do something ridiculous?”

Lando’s eyes lit up with mischief as he took a sip. “How about we play a game? Trivia quiz, but we make it interesting. Loser has to spill a secret.”

You raised an eyebrow, already feeling the competitive tension in the air. "Trivia? You really think you can beat me?"

He leaned forward, his grin widening. "I don't think—I know."

With a roll of your eyes, you grabbed your phone to pull up a random trivia app. “Alright, Norris, let’s see what you’ve got.”

The game started off light—questions about history, geography, and random pop culture tidbits. Every time Lando got an answer right, he made sure to flash you that cocky grin, and every time he got one wrong, you made sure to gloat just a little.

“So,” you said, smirking after he missed a question about 80s pop music, “looks like you owe me a secret.”

Lando leaned back in his chair, pretending to think deeply before giving you a cheeky grin. “Alright. Secret time. Sometimes, I forget which way the track goes.”

You burst out laughing, nearly spilling your tea. “Seriously?”

He laughed too, holding up his hands. “Okay, okay. Only once! And it was during practice. Not during a race!”

The game continued, with you winning most of the rounds. Lando’s competitiveness flared as the trivia questions became harder, and you could see him getting more serious with each wrong answer.

But then he smirked. “Let’s switch it up. Enough with trivia. How about we play 'Never Have I Ever'? Or are you too scared?”

You narrowed your eyes, accepting the challenge immediately. “Scared? Please. Let’s do it.”

Lando leaned forward, his grin widening. “Alright. I’ll go first. Never have I ever... thrown up after a race.”

You hesitated for a second before raising your hand in mock defeat. “Fine, you got me. I haven’t.”

Lando nodded, pleased with himself. “Your turn.”

“Never have I ever… crashed a go-kart into a wall,” you shot back with a teasing smile.

Lando’s face turned a bit pink, and he raised his hand sheepishly. “I was 11, alright? It was an accident.”

You both laughed, but as the game progressed, the questions got more personal, more daring. The atmosphere between you two shifted slightly, becoming more intimate, more...charged.

Lando’s eyes sparkled as he spoke next. “Never have I ever kissed someone I really liked but pretended it didn’t mean anything.”

You paused, your heart skipping a beat. There was something in the way he said it, like it wasn’t just part of the game anymore.

You raised your hand slowly, feeling a flush creep up your neck. Lando’s eyes flickered with interest, and the tension in the room seemed to heighten. You couldn’t help but ask, “What about you?”

He didn’t raise his hand, just sat there, staring at you. His playful smirk faded, replaced by something quieter, more serious.

“Never have I ever…” Lando started, but this time his voice was softer. His gaze met yours, holding it for just a little too long. “Fallen for a best friend and didn’t know what to do about it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. The rain outside, the cozy warmth of the kitchen, and the playful banter from before felt like a backdrop to the sudden shift between you two. You couldn’t look away from him, and the quiet confession in his eyes made your pulse race.

Neither of you raised a hand.

The air was thick with unsaid words, and for the first time, the comfortable dynamic you’d always had felt different—heavier, like you were both standing on the edge of something.

"Lando," you started, unsure of what to say next, but he cut you off, his voice soft but steady.

“I didn’t come here just because my plans were canceled,” he admitted, his gaze never wavering from yours. “I wanted to see you.”

The words hung in the air between you, and you realized in that moment that everything had changed. Somewhere between the laughter and the silly games, the lines between friendship and something more had blurred.

You didn’t know what to say. The playful banter from earlier was gone, replaced with an intensity you weren’t prepared for. You opened your mouth to respond, but Lando stood up, closing the distance between you and taking your hand gently.

He smiled softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "Never have I ever… been this nervous."

You stared at him, your heart racing, and without thinking, you reached up and placed your other hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin.

“Well,” you whispered, “you’re not alone.”

And with that, you leaned in, the distance between you disappearing as you kissed him, the rain outside a quiet backdrop to the moment you'd both been waiting for, without even knowing it.

The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, like you were both testing the waters. But when Lando’s hand slid up to gently cup your cheek, everything shifted. The hesitation melted away, and you deepened the kiss, feeling the warmth of his lips against yours. The rain outside seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Lando pulled you closer, his other hand resting on your waist as the kiss grew more intense. The soft hum of the rain and the warmth of the room seemed to wrap around you both, creating a bubble where nothing else existed.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, Lando rested his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed as he whispered, “That was… not how I expected today to go.”

You laughed softly, your hands still resting on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. “Yeah, me neither.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The room was filled with the comfortable silence that only came after something long overdue. Lando opened his eyes slowly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he looked at you with a tenderness that made your heart race all over again.

“What happens now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando smiled softly, his eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Now… I think we stop pretending this is just friendship.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the weight of his words settling in. “You mean…?”

He nodded, his smile growing. “Yeah. I mean… I’ve liked you for a while now. Just didn’t know how to say it.”

You blinked, the realization hitting you like a wave. All the little moments, the teasing glances, the playful flirting—it had all meant something more. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Lando chuckled softly, his hand dropping to yours. “I wasn’t exactly subtle.”

You smiled, feeling the tension between you unravel into something lighter, more certain. “I guess I was too busy pretending I didn’t feel the same.”

Lando’s grin widened, and he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Well, now that we’ve cleared that up…”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. “Now what?”

“Well,” Lando said, glancing around the kitchen, “I did promise we’d cook dinner. And since you technically beat me in trivia…”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping back slightly but keeping your hand in his. “Oh, no. You’re still cooking. I won fair and square.”

Lando pouted dramatically, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Fine. But you’re helping.”

You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face as you nodded. “Deal.”

[thefanficmonster]

Do you do NSFW? If so, may I request a Markiplier NSFW alphabet?

Hi dear! Usually I struggle greatly when writing anything NSFW for RPF but I shall do my best. Baby steps lol Hope you enjoy <3

Pairing: Markiplier x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: !!NSFW content below the cut!!

A= Aftercare (What they're like after the act)

Mark is the absolute sweetest and most attentive lover before, during and after the act.

After he's made sure you're alright, he'd go grab you a bottle of water, a snack and a towel to clean you up. You can bet on a long cuddle sesh after the act, filled with intimacy and romance, periodically interrupted by jokes he'd crack to make you laugh.

B= Body Part (Favorite body part of their own or on their lover)

He's pretty damn proud of his hands. Years of gaming have made them particularly skillful in many ways and he knows how to utilize them just right *wink* *wink*

Oh, and also his back. He's been influenced to love it by you more so than on his own accord but still.

On you, he loves your legs and thighs. Count on him constantly having his hands all over them in both innocent and explicit instances. And when you wrap your legs around his waist....consider him a goner.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Inside, no questions asked.

Before you got to the point of being comfortable enough for that, however, he found just as much pleasure in painting either your chest, thighs or face.

D= Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory)

Nothing helps him excel at a game quite like under-the-desk head while recording. Bonus points if it's a live stream.

E= Experience (do they know what they're doing)

Mark has had decent amount of experience, enough to be versed into how things work textbook-wise. Every skill he exhibits, however, is something he improvised at some point. But don't take that the wrong way - this man knows exactly what he's doing

F= Favorite Position

Mark is simple man and his favorite position reflects that - Doggy style (closely followed by cowgirl)

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

Oh this man is a majore league goof in general and during sex. That's not to say he can't get into character and dawn a serious and attractively intimidating front when the atmosphere of the night calls for it.

He's a perfect balance between goofy and serious, occasionally leaning far left or far right depending on the moment.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

He takes care of his hygiene rather meticulously. He keeps everything neat, trimmed and clean.

I= Intimacy (how are they in the moment)

There's never a shortage of intimacy between you and Mark during the act. Regardless of if the night calls for making love or having rough sex, there's never a lack of intimacy and closeness between you two.

That being said, I'd again say it's perfectly balanced. Whatever the night calls for is how Mark responds - be it slow, romantic lovemaking or rough and dirty sex.

J= Jerk-off (do they masturbate and how often)

He used to do it a lot more frequently before you started dating. Now, nothing can compare to the real thing. He can't find much satisfaction in masturbating but he still turns to it as a resort of release when either of you is away on a trip

K= Kink (kinks they might have)

Dear God, please forgive me for this...

Choking, spanking, hair-pulling, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, light bondage, praising/degrading (depending on what the situation calls for). Feel free to share your thoughts on this topic in the comments

L= Location (where they're down to get it on)

Every single surface in the house is game in Mark's eyes. Especially the kitchen counter and the nicely spacious shower

M= Motivation (what gets them going)

You, in any context you can think of. You don't even need to be dressed provocatively in any way shape or form. This man is just so head over heels for you, he can't help it.

Apart from that, a good ol' rage game will raise his blood pressure just right and he'll proceed to blow off some steam with you. The same works the other way around - when he's high on the success of completing a game and he celebrates with you

N= No (what they're strictly against and wouldn't try)

Anything with violent and hostile connotations that could bring you harm in any way, be it physical or emotional. He loves you more than words can describe and just the thought of hurting you fills him with dread. You both like dabbling into the occasional impact play but nothing more than that, and never without a safe word.

O= Oral (are they more of a giver or receiver)

Mark is a big fan of receiving but he enjoys giving so much more. He does it for his own pleasure just as much as he does it to bring you satisfaction. He loves every aspect of it - your taste, the tangling of your hands in his hair, the sounds you make, the bucking of your hips. It's his own personal high. He could do it for hours if you'd let him.

P= Pace (what's their pace during the act)

Again, the speed setting Mark operates on depends on the atmosphere of the night. On the regular, he likes to take it slow, prolong the experience and uphold this bubble of intimacy around the two of you for as long as he can.

Q= Quickie (are they a fan of quickies)

Nope.

The Devil is into details and so is Mark. And it's difficult to appreciate the details when working with a small time frame. He likes to take his time, worshipping you the way you deserve in the most meticulous and intimate manner.

R= Risk (how risky are they/do they like trying new things)

Oh he loves a good unconventional and borderline public location where there's a chance at getting caught. Although he prefers the comfort of your shared house it doesn't cancel out his love for the thrill of some public fun.

As for trying new things, he's down to try everything at least once - unless it falls in the No criteria I mentioned earlier. All you have to do is bring it up and you can automatically consider him signed up and strapped in, ready to try it.

S= Stamina (how long they last in bed)

The speed may or may not directly relate to how long he lasts. He can get at least two rounds - a solid hour/hour and a half - under his belt before breaking a sweat.

T= Toys (do they own and and are they down to experiment with them)

I have a feeling there is a box, hidden in a dark corner of a closer or under his bed, containing a small collection of sex toys. If you're game to use him, he'd love nothing more than take them out to play.

U= Unfair (are they a tease)

To an infuriating degree. He'd even mock you when you whine, beg or get frustrated with his teasing.

It's music to his ears.

V= Volume (how loud are they during sex)

Mark is vocal but not loud.

He exhibits his satisfaction and pleasure with mainly sighs and groans, all at a pretty low volume. But he's also very expressive during sex - praising/degrading you accordingly or dirty talking you over the edge. All in a whispered or hushed tone that makes it all the hotter.

W= Wild Card

Remember how I said he's not a big fan of masterbating? Well, when he has to resort to it he has a certain way of making it much more pleasurable...

Photos and videos you two have taken during the act or right afterwards in your disheveled states.

It's his personal collection, safely tucked away in a dark hidden corner of his computer memory.

X= X-Ray (what are they packing)

I'm sorry, I can't. I just can't. I've sinned enough tonight LMAOO

Y= Yearning (sex drive level)

Name: Mark

Status: Permanently horny

Z= Zzzz (*yawn*)

I already mentioned a cuddle sesh earlier and I will now add onto it to say that, although he tries his best not to, he does fall asleep rather quickly and deeply. How could he not when he feels so much comfort with his arms wrapped around you. When he falls asleep to the sound of your breathing and heartbeat, it's the most peaceful slumber he's ever had.

[pickalilywrites]

Ohh! Holidays fics are back on! I got this idea from the junior high manga. Mike, Nanaba and Gelgar bake a Christmas/Birthday cake for Levi's surprise birthday party that Hange is throwing.

thanks, this was fun!

a piece of cake

Hanji Zoe. Mike Zacharias. Nanaba. Gelgar. Canonverse. 2456 words. read on ao3!

Mike, Nanaba, Gelgar, and Hanji huddle around the oven. All of them are peering through the dark window and wondering if the cake is baking the way it’s supposed to. They all followed the instructions as best as they could (with a few improvisations along the way), but they couldn’t have possibly messed up the cake that much. It’s just a cake. Surely baking a cake can't be that much more difficult than slaying Titans. And yet … something about the cake doesn’t look right.  

“Is it supposed to look like that?” Mike asks. He straightens up, stretching his back after being hunched over to look at the oven for so long.  

They had put in the batter over half an hour ago and the cake hadn’t risen at all. It is baking, though, Hanji and the rest of them have confirmed as much, but it’s still the same height as it was when they had placed the batter in the oven.  

“I don’t know. Cakes look different when they don’t have frosting on them,” Hanji murmurs, still peering at the cake through the oven door. Although the rest of the baking crew is becoming discouraged, Hanji is still able to smile brightly as they ask, “Should we poke it again?”  

“I think we’ve poked it enough. It’s starting to look like the moon with all the holes we’ve poked in it,” Nanaba sighs. She also retreats from the oven and takes her place beside Mike. Her hands rest on her hips, and she shakes her head. “I don’t know. I think it might be time to throw in the towel.”  

Gelgar, who had put considerable effort into beating all the ingredients together, doesn’t seem to want to give up as easily. “We put in so much work! You can’t just tell us to give up. It’s not like what we have in the oven is inedible. It’ll probably look better when we put frosting on it.”  

Hanji nods enthusiastically. “I’m sure other people’s cakes have turned out the same. The frosting is there to hide the blemishes anyway.”  

“I don’t think that’s entirely true,” Nanaba sighs. She looks forlornly at the frosting they had made earlier. It sits sadly on the counter. “Our frosting is more liquid than anything. If we spread it on the cake, it’ll just drip down onto the plate. It’ll be more like a thin glaze. I’m afraid it won’t hide anything.”  

“I thought the frosting would be easier to make,” Mike says.  

The frosting was its own separate nightmare. It was made from a sugar syrup mixture that Mike had been mixing and then promptly forgot about when Hanji had called everyone over to look at the cake baking in the oven. When he had remembered the frosting on the stovetop, it had turned an ugly brown-black and had burnt at the bottom of the pan. He had promptly taken the pan off the stove and hurried on to beat the egg whites but had given up before they could hold stiff peaks. Even Nanaba and Gelgar had taken a turn beating the egg whites, but it seemed like they couldn’t beat in enough air to make the egg whites as stiff as the recipe specified. Hanji had assured them it would probably be okay — the frosting would probably just be a little bit runny, but the hardening sugar syrup might be able to give it more structure. What a terrible assumption they made.  

In the end, they had a bowl of half-burnt sugar frosting that tasted like caramel and charcoal. And that was after they had scraped out as much of the burnt sugar as they could.  

“If we spread it thin enough, I bet you’ll barely be able to taste the burnt parts at all,” Hanji says confidently. 

“I thought you just said we were going to use it to hide any mistakes,” Nanaba points out. 

“It can either taste nice or look nice. It’s too greedy to ask for both,” Gelgar says. It’s only now that his shoulders begin to sag, and he begins to deflate, giving into the dispirited nature that has taken over his other comrades. “I thought that recipe was supposed to be foolproof!”  

“You know what they say, too many fools in the kitchen spoils the cake,” Hanji says, their mouth set in a grim line. It looks as if they, too, are about to admit defeat. “It’s probably only foolproof enough for one fool.”  

Their gazes rest once again on the cake that is still baking in the oven. It’s been in there much longer than the thirty-five minutes specified by the recipe, but they haven’t pulled it out yet. Half of it is because they aren’t sure it’s done cooking, and the other half of it is because they are too frightened to come face-to-face with the mess they’ve created.  

“... It’s the thought that counts?” Mike says at least, and the other three begin to nod vigorously. 

“Not many people put this much effort in baking a cake for their colleagues,” Nanaba agrees, although it could be argued that if other people were as unskilled at baking as them, they would have opted for buying a cake at a bakery.  

“It’s filled with love, after all. I bet Levi has never eaten anything with this much love in his life,” Hanji says. They seem to have forgotten just how abysmal their cake-baking attempt is because their chest begins to swell with pride. “Don’t you think his eyes will well up with tears when he sees how much care we put into preparing this cake for him?”  

“Absolutely,” Gelgar says, and the other two nod their heads in agreement even though none of them have ever seen Captain Levi shed a tear in their lives.  

It’s then that they hear a knock against the doorframe and they turn to see a cheerful Petra and a scowling Auruo enter. Petra gives them a little wave as she bounds in, and she laughs when Hanji runs out to greet them.  

“Oh, Pet, how good it is to see you!” Hanji coos, enveloping the tiny ginger in their arms.  

“It’s always good to see you, too,” Petra says. She peers over Hanji’s shoulder where Gelgar, Nanaba, and Mike are still huddled around the stove. “You three as well, of course.”  

“I’m also here,” Auruo huffs. He always tries to maintain a cold, aloof air, but he actually enjoys getting attention from others. He protests when Hanji finally releases Petra and turns to ensnare him in a hug instead, but his cheeks flush from happiness after being noticed. “Don’t get too comfy. We’re not here for a friendly chat. We’re here on official business.”  

Petra turns to her colleague, still smiling but her lips are stretched into a dangerously thin line. “Don’t be rude, Auruo. Of course, we’re just here to visit the rest of our fellow soldiers and see how they’re doing.”  

“No, we’re not. We’re here for something far more important,” Auruo says, his voice growing louder as he attempts to exert his authority. He clears his throat. “We were specifically stationed here by our Captain to supervise you all.”  

“That’s not what happened!” Petra protests, her smile completely gone now. She turns back to Hanji and the group, brows knit together with concern that they might have been offended by Auruo’s words. “That’s not what happened at all. Our squad just happened to be passing by your barracks today and our Captain had some … concerns, so he asked that we stop by and just make sure things were alright with your squad.”  

“Oh, that’s very kind of you,” Hanji says. They let Auruo wriggle away from their grasp and they give Petra a smile that would be reassuring if not for the smell of burning cake in the oven. “We’re fine, though. Thank you so much for checking on us.”  

“Well, it’s a relief to hear that you’re all doing well.” Petra gives a nod and a polite smile, but she and Auruo stay rooted to their spots.  

Hanji and their party stare cordially at Petra and Auruo, and Petra and Auruo stare cordially back. Neither group says anything, but Petra and Auruo do glance towards the oven every once in a while and while Hanji can’t say for certain that the cake in the oven is on fire, it most certainly is smoking.  

“We don’t know what we’re doing with this cake, please help us,” Gelgar suddenly blurts out, and Petra’s expression relaxes now that the truth is out.  

“No worries, let me take a look,” Petra says and hurries over to the oven without another word. She grimaces after peering through the oven door and immediately turns off the stove. Even after she turns off the oven, there are flames of … something flickering in the oven, but she turns around and gives everyone a reassuring smile now that everything has been handled.  

“Tell us how bad it was,” Nanaba says.  

“Oh, well I’m sure you all tried your best,” Petra begins, but Nanaba won’t hear any of the ginger’s forced compliments.  

“Tell us how bad it was,” Nanaba repeats, her voice stronger this time, and Petra gulps nervously. 

“... I don’t believe any part of it can be salvaged,” Petra reluctantly answers, and the entire group gives a collective sigh.  

If Petra, the daughter of a baker, says their bake is hopeless, then they must accept the facts even if they had been denying the evidence in front of them the whole time. They were too stubborn to accept the fact that all their efforts to bake Levi a decent birthday cake were useless, but it’s come the time where they cannot ignore it any longer.  

“Well, I guess it could be worse,” Hanji says.  

“How could it be worse?” Gelgar grumbles, his arms folded grumpily across his chest. He’s hunched over, a disgruntled expression on his face as he gazes at the poor excuse of a cake burning in the oven. It’s only now that its fire is dying out, leaving only dying embers and a lump of hardened rock where a cake should be.  

“Levi could know what the cake is for,” Mike answers, and Auruo answers. 

“Of course, the Captain knows what the cake is for,” Auruo snickers with a smug look on his face. “He’s a smart man. He told us to come in here and stop whatever nonsense you were cooking up for his birthday.”  

“To be specific, he told us that he would rather ‘not have that fucking mess Hanji and the rest are making in the kitchen’ in preparation of his birthday,” Petra says. It’s always jarring to hear the Captain’s crass words in her voice, but it does soften the blow of them if only a little. “Although, I’m sure he appreciates the thought.”  

The four dejected soldiers look over at the oven once more. Petra’s words are meant to be reassuring, but they only make them feel worse.  

“Should we feed it to him anyway? If he really appreciated the thought, he’d eat it anyway,” Gelgar mumbles. 

“It’s made with love, so much love he might choke on it,” Nanaba murmurs.  

“A love to die for,” Mike agrees. 

“It’s tempting, but we should honor Levi’s wishes,” Hanji says. They think for a moment, seriously considering just giving Levi the hunk of coal of a cake, but then shake their head as they ultimately decide against it. They snap their fingers and point at Petra. “Petra, would it be too much trouble to ask your father to make us a cake?”  

“Oh, of course not,” Petra says. “Just let me know what you need.”  

“We need a cake,” Hanji says, spreading their hands as they envision the cake they had wanted to make for Levi’s birthday. “We need a cake that will shock Levi, one that will make him regret doubting our baking abilities. That cake has to be gorgeous and it has to taste amazing … but it can’t be too gorgeous or taste too amazing.”  

Petra nods as she takes mental notes of Hanji’s request, her brow furrowing as Hanji’s list of requirements lengthens. “So you’d like a cake that looks and tastes good, but you don’t want it to seem like it was made by a professional cake shop. You want it to look like it was homemade?”  

“Yes, exactly,” Hanji says, and their companions nod enthusiastically along with them.  

“Mess up the frosting a little, tell your dad not to make it too smooth,” Gelgar adds. “And make the piping uneven.”  

“We should have a message, too,” Mike says. “Maybe something like, ‘Happy birthday, Levi,’ but spell ‘birthday’ wrong. Maybe spell his name wrong, too.”  

“Do not spell his name wrong,” Nanaba says. 

“And most importantly,” Hanji says, “make it with love, lots and lots of love. That’s how he’ll know we made it.”  

Petra presses her lips together, barely suppressing a smile. It’s clear that this is something very important to Hanji and the others, and she doesn’t want to spoil their mood by laughing. She nods as she listens to her friends’ requests. “Yes, absolutely. I’ll let my father know and he’ll have a cake by the Captain’s birthday.”  

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, Pet!” Hanji exclaims as they reach out to clasp Petra’s hands in theirs. They’re beaming from ear to ear, happy to find a solution to their predicament. “You and your father are absolute, angels! Give him a kiss on the cheek for me, will you?”  

“I will,” Petra laughs. “Although, I’d deep clean the kitchen if I were you. The Captain has the nose of a hound, and he’ll be sure to smell any remains of the previous cake.”  

“Already on it,” Mike says, heading over to the oven. With mitted hands, he opens the oven, removes the cake, and chucks it into the trash bin.  

Hanji and the group thank Petra and Auruo for their help before bidding them goodbye, waving them off as they depart. Petra and Auruo can be heard bickering as they leave. 

“It’s never going to work, you know,” Auruo says, his voice loud enough that Hanji and the others can hear him clearly. “The Captain isn’t a fool. He’ll see right through it immediately.”  

“Auruo, I will poison your slice and then shove it down your throat if you don’t shut up,” Petra is heard hissing. 

Even though their baking session had resulted in disaster, Hanji looks quite satisfied. They dust off their hands and say proudly, “Well, that was a piece of cake, wasn’t it? And we thought getting the perfect cake for Levi’s birthday would be hard!” 

[6rookie-writer0110]

Dom Lena Luther (G!P) x Sub Male Reader pt2 - in her penthouse, Lena is having a drink when she sits in her chair leaning back having flashbacks of her bending Reader over the table in her office and getting a blowjob from him. All of this thinking of the sex made Lena hard as she looks down at her pantsuit seeing she’s a got full boner on her left thigh as she grabs her erection smiling. Getting horny for more sex She calls R! to come over:

L.L.: get over here bitch, I’m in a horny mood right now. And wear something nice

Reader arriving at Lena’s House, wearing a tight shirt, lady sweatpants, and flip-flops. Lena opening wearing nothing but Her Robe. She opens up her robe showing her naked dick asking reader if he’s ready for another round with R! nodding yes. Inside the house, to start off, Lena pins y/n on her counter, lifts up his shirt sees the purple thong she gave him to wear and gives a him a wedgie. Reader kinda likes the wedgie. Next both Lena and reader grabbing each other dicks jerking off, reader staining his pants and Lena staining her robe. Then they start kissing when suddenly Lena remembers that she had a video conference call meeting today. Though Lucky it’s face chat so she’s doesn’t need to change and stays in her robe she also improvises by having reader secretly be underneath her table and blow her while she’s chatting face to face online. During the meeting Reader sucks her off too well that Lena rolls her eyes and head back a bit to where the callers were concern about Lena but she tells them she’s fine and thank them for meeting. After that, reader comes out the table with cum on his mouth, saying they can finish in the living room. Where Lena places a towel on her expensive couch where she fuck Reader in missionary style sex; she even kisses the Reader’s feet. There’s a knock on Lena’s door where she gets up not bother to put on some clothes answers the door to see Lillian visiting. Lillian shocked seeing Lena naked and Reader laying on the couch says that she can come back another time but Lena insists that she comes in but she’ll have to wait in the kitchen for Lena and Reader to finish. Lena goes back to fucking Reader in which she asks where does he want to nut at, reader replies on his chest and his face. Lena pulls out and does exactly that. They finish and Reader cleans himself up using the towel from the couch. Lena puts her robe back on; Reader sees his clothes/shoe pile and goes to put them back on again. Lillian notices reader put on the thong Lena once owned, asks Y/n about that. Lena replying that she gave it to him and she likes that way, gives a small wink to reader. Reader, ignoring Lillian, leaves but not before Lena giving him a butt smack saying “best piece ass I had in a while. See you at work tomorrow” and Reader flirtatiously waving goodbye at Lena. Then Lillian says

Lillian: that was something. You having intercourse in your home is your business but at least do it in your bedroom

Lena: Well it’s my penthouse and I can have sex anywhere I want.

Wow, bro 😳

[rileyslibrary]

Living With Ghosts: 3. Air Time

"First the pistachios, now the leak; I swear, kid, you and your bloody pantry are doing my head in."

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,366

Notes:

Warnings: Mention of physical injury (sprained ankle)

Air Time: the time during which riders of a roller coaster experience either frictionless or negative G-forces.

Entire work on AO3

Table of Contents

———————————————————————

A fucking genius, that’s what you are! What a smart move, getting up on that roof while it was still wet and slippery, climbing that sketchy ladder even though the lieutenant warned you not to.

Of course, you did; you had to! That was your rationale. Had to. Now, look at you, sitting on the kitchen counter with a broken ankle.

“it’s not broken; just a sprain.” He mutters as he examines it. “You‘ll survive, for as long as you stop acting foolish, that is.”

“The ceiling is leaking; what else would you suggest I should have done?” you mutter as you examine your ankle. God, it hurts.

“Well, you could have refrained from getting up there like a fuckin’ idiot as per my order,” he replies.

‘As per my order’ means ‘I told you so’ in Ghost lingo. That mother—you’ll show him who’s the idiot!

“The leak goes straight into our pantry,” you whimper as the pain worsens by the second. “If the water ruins our supplies, we’ll be left with nothing else but lemons!”

You don’t think he would mind eating lemons. He is sour himself.

“First the pistachios, now the leak; I swear, kid, you and your bloody pantry are doing my head in.” he rumbles as he steps to the freezer for ice. “It’s pissin’ down, for fuck’s sake, and this house is ancient. What did you expect? It stands to reason that something like this would compromise the ceiling.”

‘Compromise’, ‘As per my orders’, ‘Negative’, ‘Roger’. Does he ever speak like a human?

He’s livid. You can tell by how he fiddles with the towel, trying to ‘MacGyver’ an ice pack. It looks like he’s done it before, yet anger is getting the best of him. Ghost doesn’t like to be defied. ‘Roger’ that.

“Alright,” you sigh, “what do you want me to say, huh? That you’re correct?”

“IT’S NOT ABOUT WHO’S ON THE RIGHT HERE,” he yells, slamming his hands against the kitchen counter.

You jump out of your skin, startled by his outbreak. You’ve never seen him like this. Sure, he had a temper now and then, but never towards you.

He tries to collect his thoughts, both hands in fists, stretched against the counter.

“We need to stay safe and lay low.” He pauses in an attempt to calm himself. “We don’t know what we’re up against yet; could you fathom what will happen if that danger finds us first?”

“You think I don’t know?”

“You sure as hell act like you don’t know.”

“I was trying to help with the lea-.”

“I don’t give a shit about the leak.” He angrily states. “The only thing I care about that ceiling,” he says, pointing up, “is that it doesn’t hinder our position. Climbing on top of it not only puts a target on our backs, you could have also ended up on a stretcher. Bloody dangerous move.”

Ha! ‘Bloody dangerous move,’ says the guy who makes a living by throwing knives.

He approaches you with the improvised ice pack and offers it to you, only to yank it away as you reach for it.

You look at his hand in disbelief. Is this some form of hazing? How can he toy with you at a time like this? He should know better.

Your eyes travel up to his, the only unclothed part of him.

You’re only a few inches apart, locking eyes; his petrichor-like odour is now detectable. You can feel the heat radiating through his body. If you slightly lean forward, perhaps he might take off that mask and-

“What was your plan, anyway?” he hisses, eyes squinting behind his balaclava. “What were you going to do while it was raining, mind you, to stop the leak?” The irony is evident in every word he speaks.

He’s mocking you. His head is tilted back, looking down at you, taunting you. You want to punch him and kiss him at the same time. But you do neither, for all you can do is stare. He’s too close, too intimidating. He feels dangerous yet welcoming, like a siren’s song luring sailors to their doom. His chest protrudes like steel armour, his shoulders considerably broader than the ones you often fantasise about; he’s built like a mountain, this man.

“Are you taking mental notes, y/n?”

He noticed. Shit.

“What?” You ask, trying to buy some time to think.

“Look at you, acting all dumb now.” His husky voice draws you in, the echos lightly pounding in your chest.

Shit, shit, shit. Snap out of it!

“I-I know what to do!” you exclaim in a desperate attempt to salvage the situation. “I’ve been here far longer than you; I know what to do.”

You liar. It has barely rained five times this past year, and this was the first time you experienced such a problem. You have no idea how to fix it, and you know it.

He shakes his head in dismay and walks to the First Aid Kit; his bullshit metre is now in the red zone. He, too, is aware of both your incompetence in roof insulation and arrogance.

There’s silence—awkward silence.

You decide to break it. Apologise and end this. This has gotten way too far; it’s time to kill your ego.

“I was trying to help; I’m sorry, I truly am. I know you don’t care about the damn ceiling or me, but being an inconvenience to you was the last thing on my mind.”

“You want me to care for you, y/n?”

Oh, wow.

You suddenly recall the first time you went down a roller coaster. The adrenaline rush, that sinking feeling, falling as fast as gravity pulls you. That’s what he was to you—that roller coaster plunge—Air time.

Yes! Oh, God, YES. Say it, say it, say it. Say it and see what happens! What’s the worst that can happen?

“No. No, thank you. I can take care of myself.”

You fucking idiot. You absolute, utter moron. Your ego is too powerful to be killed.

“Fair enough,” he states as he angrily slides the First Aid Kit across the kitchen counter, lightly hitting the side of your hip. “You deal with your shit.”

No, no, no.

“Where are you going?”

“None of your business.”

“What about my fucking ankle, lieutenant?”

“You said you can take care of yourself, didn’t you? Do it yourself, then.”

Fear washes over you. The idea of being alone once again in this damn house. Time to kill your ego for good. Now. It’s not helping; it never does. Kill it now.

“Don’t leave, please, don’t leave me like this.” You plead.

He pauses at the door, his right hand clenching that door frame for dear life. He’s contemplating his decision.

He turns around and speeds towards you. You shrink.

He picks up the gauze from the First Aid Kit, your shoulders barely brushing for a second. He kneels in front of your foot, signalling with his hand.

“Your ankle. Now. Not another word.”

You comply with his orders. He was touching you now; what else was there to say?

You’re mesmerised as you watch him wrap the bandage around the ball of your foot. He’s careful, concentrating, working his way up to your ankle, then down again, circling his way around your foot’s arch. Is he always like this? Does he alw-

“-All done.” He notes as he stands up, proceeding to pack up the First Aid Kit, snapping you out of your nirvana.

Oh, well. It was good while it lasted.

You thank him, eyeing your wrapped ankle. That part is fixed, at least. The only thing that’s left now is...

“The roof. What about the roof?” you hesitantly ask.

“We’ll fix it—“ he pauses, his gaze fixed on your ankle, “I’ll fix it when it dries up.”

“You fix roofs as well, Lieutenant?”

Look at you trying to build the rapport you completely shattered before. Adorable.

“I can fix lots of things, y/n, including that bloody attitude of yours.”

And with that, he walked out that kitchen door, not another glance back, leaving you going down that roller coaster plunge, experiencing air time over and over again.

———————————————————————

Next ->

[mah-gah-lee]

What a weird family reunion Reggie x  Reader (xLuke)

gif originally posted by @jatpsource​

Word Count: 3515 words

 Summary: You’re Reggie’s little sister. You were 3 when he died. You’re now a ghost for a decade. One night, you recognize your brother and jumped into him to an unexpected family reunion. How is it going to happen? Will Reggie believe you? In a mysterious way, that’s Luke who help you to convinced Reggie.

 Warnings: cuss (language), mention of death, mention of divorce, mention of drugs

 A/N: This is my first fic about jatp characters. Hope you’ll enjoy! keep in mind that french is my first language, so i’m so sorry if there’s some mistakes in my fic

 disclaimer: It takes place during episodes 6 and 7. I do not take into account the possibility of a Juke. The chemistry while they sing is there but no romantic feelings.

 Tagged: @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @standingtalllove​ 

 _______

Losing a child is the worst thing a parent could live, losing two is unimaginable. It’s seems being 17 years old was a new malediction in Peters family.

 You were 3 when your older brother, Reginald, died in a weird hot dog accident. At that point, your parents were literally a fight away from a divorce but never did it because of you. You were too young to be in a divided family, according to them. But Reggie's death separated them for good. Yet they really tried to support each other, to overcome that and give you all the attention you needed. But your mother overprotected you and made you live in the shadow of your late brother. Your dad couldn't stand it. And when they finally divorce, moving out from reggie’s childhood house, you went to live with your dad.

 Even though you were too young to form a strong bond with your brother, in a way you missed him. Your mother’s house was full of pictures of him, some of his clothes were still in a room, dedicated to him. When you visited your mother, you didn’t understand why you always found yourself in this room. You were drawn like a magnet to the comforting room. Reggie’s presence in this new house brought you such a sense of security that your mother had repeatedly found you asleep on a pile of your brother’s T-shirts.

 And then you died in 2009. Kanye West had interrupted Taylor Swift's speech at the VMAs, Miley Cyrus hadn't gone crazy yet and One Direction didn't exist yet. What an era! You didn't know why the great light didn't come looking for you but you were there, as a ghost in 2009. And the time has passed ... You've had your best concerts, the best parties. A forever teenager who couldn't eat, drink or sleep.

 And then 2020 came.

 …

 You were tired of always doing the same thing for over a decade, but you couldn't help but go to every open scene that came up in your beautiful city. It was as if an inexplicable force was pushing you to go there.

 This evening was no exception to the rule and you were in a very hip little bar in the city center. You wore one of those sleeveless, gray crop tops with high waisted pants, your leather jacket draped over your shoulders. Your eyes were directly drawn to a group of girls in colorful costumes. You couldn't help but roll your eyes. It's been 10 years since you died and it seemed to you that these girls looked like the same plagues that ruined the lives of so many teenagers in your time. You put on an expression of disgust when they all took the stage, but when the music started you couldn't help but admit it was pretty catchy. However, you didn't expect a ghost to appear in the middle of the stage, improvising a choreography. Was that part of the show?

 But looking at the audience's non-reaction, you knew it wasn't. The ghost disappeared for the first time, and your gaze sought directly the distinctive light source of another apparition in the room. Your gaze lingered on a small group of three boys - the blond boy included - and two girls. You have wrinkled your eyes to better distinguish the teenagers, and your face expressed confusion.

 “Reggie? “

 You wanted to go see him so badly. You were pretty sure it was your brother but it all came too fast. The moment you decided to walk towards them, the organizer announced a new band.

 “Okay, looks like we're close the night out with one more group…Julie and the fat ones.”

 What was that for a name? Your attention had been diverted and when you looked back at the group, the boys had disappeared as one of the young girls took the stage. Your heart was beating so fast. You couldn't go wrong; you had seen so many pictures at your mother's house that it was impossible that this boy was not your brother. But you missed your chance…

 Julie started to sing and your eyes were captivated, as much as your ears were. This kid was so talented! When she sang a rather high note, the tension in the room charged into electricity. The next second, the young singer was joined by the group of boys you had seen in her company. Appearing distinctly as the ghosts did. On drums there was the blond boy you had seen dancing a few moments earlier, on the electric guitar, a boy with tousled brown hair who seemed slightly familiar to you ... and on bass, with a flannel shirt, there was your brother ... Reggie was there, identical to the photos you had admired so much.

 The bar was on fire as Julie and The Phantoms performed. What a sick name for a group made up of two-thirds of ghosts! The song was so catchy that your heart beat to the sound of the music. But your eyes did not leave your brother, you were unable to move, frozen in place. What should you do ? Will you introduce yourself after the performance? And, what would you say? "Hey hi Reggie, I'm your sister, I died ten years ago and you twenty-five years ago. Unbelievable, right?! Nice to see you again" And once again, before you knew it, the song was over and the boys were gone again, leaving Julie alone on stage in the bewilderment of the many people in the facility.

 “for God's sake, where are they?”

 You didn't want to miss it anymore. Even though the whole situation was strange, you wanted to see your brother again.

 Your eyes flew over the room before seeing the scene play out before your eyes. Julie seemed petrified in front of a man. The boys watched in amazement and as Julie left with what appeared to be her father, you rushed over to the group of three musicians before they disappeared again.

 “omg please don't poof out again.” You said almost out of breath

 The boys looked at you like you were crazy before the guitarist jumped off the bar counter, bursting with energy.

 "Wait, you can see us?"

 “as much as when mister "all eyes on me" made his performance”, you were pointing your head at the blond boy.

 The group looked at each other in puzzlement and Reggie finally spoke, his blue eyes full of mischief.

 “So…hi there cutie, how can we help you?”

 Your face expressed disgust and you stuck your tongue out mimicking vomiting.

Luke gave Alex an amused smile, seeing Reggie flirting and your spontaneous reaction. The bassist couldn't help but charm the pretty ladies.

 “Wow Reggie, that's gross ... you're my brother.”

  Reggie burst out laughing at your response, not noticing that you called him by his first name when he hadn't even introduced himself to you yet.

 “Yeah right, for sure. You just could tell me you weren’t interested. But I’m charming...”

 It was the first time he had been given such an excuse but you looked so serious that he stopped dead in his tracks as Luke and Alex watched you. They always knew Reggie had a sister. But the scene unfolding before their eyes seemed impossible. (Y / N) was so young when they died and now must have been around 28, something like that. But the girl in front of them was a teenager, their age. How was this possible?

 You didn't want to drop the information like that. It was worse than anything you could have imagined. But it had escaped you. Now he didn't take you seriously. Your eyes were wet with tears. It was scary to find you in front of your brother for the first time as a ghost teenager. Luke looked panicked when he noticed your eyes, squeezing Reggie's shoulder as you seemed to beg.

 “Can I ... can I meet you in a quieter time please, Reginald?”

 Your brother's eyes widened as Luke's hug on his shoulder tightened a bit. The eagerness and desperation in your voice had made both boys react, Alex was just looking at all of you like all of this wasn't real. The use of Reggie's name made him tense, surprised. Few called him Reginald. In fact, only his family, and the boys when they wanted to annoy him, called him that way. And although his nickname is obvious enough to deduce his

full first name, he deeply felt that you weren't just anyone.

  He seemed a little panicked and looked around for his friends to support him. As if the solution would fall by itself just by the presence of Luke and Alex.

 “Okay, but I want Luke and Alex’s there! What about tomorrow? I’ll give you the address!”

 Wow, that was quick.

 “hm, yeah, yeah sure, as you want”

 You nodded and Reggie silently slipped a note to the drummer. Alex took a pen, write something on a paper towel and gave it to you. You weren’t surprise, you also can make some tricks. And you just had the time to thanks them before they poofted again.

 …

 The next day, you landed in front of Julie's garage. Lucky she's at school because you shouldn't be explaining your presence, so she managed to see you the way she saw boys.

 Before entering, you peeked out the window and frowned. There seemed to be only Luke so far. He was leaning over the piano, his head in a notebook. Your body went through part of the garage door and you cleared your throat.

 “hmm, hi ... i came to see Reggie ..”

 Luke instantly raised his head and you caught his attention.

 “oh uh, hi! He should be here soon, come in.….”

 Silence felt as Luke motioned for you to sit on the couch. It was a rather pleasant studio; the plants gave a warm atmosphere to the room and the music set sent you good vibes.

 "Does your girlfriend mind that I'm here? I mean, that seems to be your HQ"

 "girlfriend?"

 "The girl you sing with" I simply said.

 "Julie? Um, yeah, she's not my girlfriend. She-sh-she’s great and we have this powerful connection but…not, not in a romantic way. Music tied us. Music and friendship "

 Luke chuckled lightly as he scratched his head. You were surprised they weren't dating. Yesterday the tension was intense. He seemed authentic when he had continued his momentum. You let out a smile amused by so much overflow.

 “It's okay, I don't need to know your full relationship statute or your social security number.”

 The guitarist gave you a frank smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. For a ghost, his gaze was really alive.

 “ I’m Luke, by the way”

 "Y / N… Re .."

 "Reggie's little sister… I-I remember you a little."

 "You look familiar to me. Maybe I saw you in a few pictures with Reggie."

 Silence fell and you started to feel anxious. Maybe it was a bad idea? You had grown up since Reggie died ... were you still his little sister after all? Luke seemed to notice your dismay and put a comforting hand on your knee.

 “hey, is something bothering you?”

 “What if he doesn't believe me ... if he definitely thinks I'm not his sister.”

 “Let's be honest, it's a little hard to believe. The last time I saw you, you were three years old.”

 It was as if the memories flooded into your mind and let you carried away in your words.

 “Yeah, you gave me this teddy bear with a guitar and told Reggie you wanted to be my favorite.”

 Luke chuckled slightly before staring at you, speechless. He seemed dazed. This anecdote dates back to twenty-five years anyway. He himself had a hard time remembering it until you said it a few seconds earlier.

 “what was the smell of the stuffed animal?” he asked, confused about that funny fact

 “sorry, what?”

 “the plush, what did it smell like?”

 “hot waffle, why?”

 “okay ... maybe you are his sister ... tell me more about what you remember”

 You looked at him with a puzzled expression. Everything had been so natural before he stopped in all the movements. And now, it was hard to think about for the memories you had of Reggie on demand. The teddy bear given by Luke story had slipped out of your mind without you realizing it. As your brain seemed to boil, the fog of your thoughts cleared.

 “can I use your guitar?”

 “hell no ... why?” Luke exclaimed with far too much anticipation

 “I have this lullaby stuck inside of my head ... I think Reggie sang it to me when I was a child”

 Your pleading and desperate gaze fell on Luke who categorically refused to let you take his guitar. He ends up grabbing his six acoustic strings, terminated. There was something about you that made him weak.

 “Maybe you can teach me but ... my guitar is my guitar, nobody touches it.”

 You nodded and the lead singer moved closer to you. You were stunned by its smell, like a distant memory. Luke had definitely been a part of your life before he died, you were sure of that. You leaned over her shoulder, humming the lullaby that was left in your head. It didn't take long for him to find the right chords. Luke continued several times before you stopped singing, looking at him intently.

 “that's exactly it ... this lullaby”

 You both looked at each other, an indecipherable expression in your eyes. You both jumped at the sound of the garage door. Reggie appeared with Alex.

 "Ready to compose hellish songs! oh did I interrupt something?”

 "No, no I was there to see you. I guess you have a lot of questions."

 "hell yeah, can we start from the beginning?"

  You smiled to approve his request. The boys settled down on the sofa, while you sat down on one of the single armchairs. And the flow of questions began

  “When are you born?”

 “(your birthday date) 1992” you simply answered.

 “What’s your name?”

 (y/n) (y/m/n) Peters

 It’s seemed to convinced a little Reggie but doubt was all over his face.  It was information you could easily get on the internet nowadays.

 “What’s my favorite food?”

 “Pizza, mom said your favorite was the extra cheese with pepperoni”

 “And what was my favorite toy?”

 “I freaking don’t know, how can I suppose to known that?”

 “ah ah!” he pointed the finger at you, as if that answer was proof that you were lying. It broke your heart but you didn't show it.

Instead, you rolled your eyes and Reggie kept going to ask you some question. Of course, you would have liked to have answered his questions correctly. Your mother told you some anecdotes about him but not to the point of knowing all the details.

 “What’s the most terrible thing I said to my mom?”

 “Omg I don’t fucking know! I was 3 when you’re died, asshole!”

 Luke smiled when you exploded. Reggie was Reggie, as weird as possible. Now you were angry and desperate. Your brother didn’t believe you and he kept dragging you into this miserable feeling that you were never going to get your brother back. You had spent your short life living with a faint memory of him. Your blankie was one of his t-shirts, his voice reasoned in your head when you couldn’t sleep.

But then, in front of him, you were a stranger to him. Your heart was bruised from not being able to hug him and to finally meet this brother who had left far too soon.

 “Okay, okay… So, how can you proof me you’re really my sister?! “

 In the room’s corner, Luke looked at you, you looked desperate, about to cry again. He grabbed his guitar and cleared his throat. Reggie turned to him as the guitarist still had his eyes on you, a heartwarming smile hanging across his face. You had managed to convince him in a few minutes. He felt connected to you and the things you told him were disturbing. You could only be Reggie's sister; it was impossible otherwise.

 "Hey…What about the song you told me earlier." he said with a soft and comfort voice

 Your eyes caught his gaze, grateful for the initiative. You nodded and Luke started playing the few notes you had taught him a few minutes earlier. It was so different from all the songs the brunette could play before. It was a lullaby, such easy children's music with just a few notes.   Of course, the band wasn’t supposed to play when Julie wasn’t in the room but, Luke had thought it was the best thing to do to encourage you to keep going. He didn’t know why, but he wanted Reggie to believe you. Luke believed you, hard as nails. There only had to look at your eyes to understand this reality, and Luke had noticed that. You had the same blue eyes as your brother. How could Reggie still doubt that? You started to sing

 You're so sleepy

Very much sleepy

You want to go to the fairyland

You close your eyes

And jump into your dream.

When you'll wake up

I’ll still be on your team.

 The instant Reggie heard the first notes, he knew. But hearing you sing the lullaby he had invented for you when you didn't want to sleep as a child, was a magical moment. You were his baby sister. He gave you that sad little puppy face, so overwhelmed. Reggie opened his arms and you jumped into a hug, so glad he finally accepted the fact that you were his sister.

You felt oddly safe again, like taking a nap in Reggie's pile of old t-shirts. You were so happy to find your brother and to be able to live your non-life by his side. Nothing would be as boring as it used to be. Reggie pushed you away with a concerned look

 "but wait ... how did you die?"

 "Yeah ... I don't really know ... I was at a really, really good rock concert and I bought this drink ... and I think I got drugged up there and ... I guess I'm dead? tadaa " you tried to tell him in a light tone.

He had just learned that he had a little sister. He didn't have to know that she was sneaking out at rock concerts and drinking alcohol before she was old enough. Right? Alex looked at Luke and Reggie with his half amused half confused smile. As for Luke, he fidgeted from foot to foot at the discovery. Y / N was as much rock and roll as they all were. Rebellion had to be his middle name

You loosened Reggie's embrace and lowered your head, pursing your lips so as not to show your embarrassment. He asked if you wanted snacks and you nodded. There was a slight silence. You didn't notice the urgent look Luke gave Alex but the next moment the blond jumped up to accompany the bassist, leaving you alone in the garage with the lead singer.

 The silences were a little longer until Luke cautiously approached you. You could feel the awkwardness from miles away.

 “ Sooo, you made this.”

 “ yeah ...” you answered in a shy voice

 It was the moment you had to thank him but your words seemed frozen. You mustered all the courage to plant your gaze in Luke's eyes.

 “Thank you ... for helping me earlier.”

 “oh it was nothing”.

 “I ... yes, yes it was. You can't imagine how important seeing Reggie again is to me. Thanks for ... for helping me open his eyes.”

 A slight smile caught his lips and he reached for your cheek before stopping his gesture. Instead of stroking your skin, he simply put a section of your hair back behind your ear.

 “I would do anything for my best friends.”

 And Reggie was definitely one of Luke’s best friend. You hardly swallowed, your stomach contorting under the effect that the guitarist made you. Time had seemed to fly at an incredible speed as the moment was interrupted by Reggie and Alex coming back to you.

 “OMG LUKE DON’T FLIRT WITH MY SISTER, SHE’S 3!”

 You cleared your throat and stepped aside to pull yourself away from Luke as far as possible. Your gaze fell on your brother and you raised an eyebrow at the last remark. 3 years old, really? You were 3 years old twenty-five years ago ... now you were eternally a teenager

 “I’m seventeen.”

 “Listen, i'm your big brother, you’re three, end of discussion.”

 Your face wanted to laugh and you pursed your lips to keep from succumbing. But your eyes… Your eyes met Luke's in a complicity that slowly settled. Could you fall in love with your big brother's best friend? Definitely yes...

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Things the Scoundrels are No Longer Allowed to Do- Part II

Based on “Skippy’s List,” I have continued “A List of Things the Scoundrels are No Longer Allowed to Do.”  I hope you enjoy it.  The original can be found here:

https://thelordofdarkreunion.tumblr.com/post/637424500291600384/a-list-of-things-the-scoundrels-are-no-longer

The group known as the Magnificent Scoundrels has gotten a bit out of hand.  This list was compiled by Admiral Hackett of the Systems Alliance, Admiral Kelly of the GA, Fleet Admiral Hood of the UNSC, Inquisitor Vail of the Holy Inquisition, Commander Briggs of the Frontier Militia, Princess Leia of the New Republic, and Director Fury of SHIELD in order to curb the Scoundrels’ more dangerous or inappropriate behaviors.  These rules apply to all Scoundrels and their teams/crews.

207.  Expended ammunition is not a business expense.

208.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to call requesions officers or quartermasters “sugar daddy.”

209.  There is no “anti-Shepard conspiracy” within the Scoundrels’ fleet.  That’s the Citadel Council’s thing.

210.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to adopt dogs to “sic on the brass.”

211.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to pay Revenant to kill people they don’t like.

212.  None of the Scoundrels are The Chosen One.  That was Anakin Skywalker.

213.  It is wrong to fire warning shots at drivers who do not recognize your right of way.

214.  Reading is not “for officers only.”

215.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to ask anyone who outranks them if they’ve been smoking crack.

216.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to turn their starship command rooms into throne rooms.  Especially with tacky carpets.

217.  We are not making clones out of any of you.  You are all hard enough to deal with as is.

218.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to steal any massive, mobile space stations or star fortresses, which include but are not limited to:

- The Rock

-The Phalanx

-The Citadel

-High Charity

-Cloud City

219.  Thomas Drake is not allowed to crash economies “because it’s fun.”

220.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to assign nicknames to anyone.

221.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to make chain guns that fire miniature nukes

222.   The weapons specialists of the Apocalypse are no longer allowed to collaborate with the engineers of the Normandy or Enterprise, and Quill is to give up the nuke chain gun.

[I will not!  How can you stop me?  I have a chain gun that fires nukes!]

223.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to wake up superior officers with cymbals

224.  Napalm Sticks to Kids is not a motivational song.

225.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to quote bastardized versions of Dr. Seuss rhymes on military operations.

226.  Command decisions do not need to be ratified by a ⅔ majority.

227.   The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to line their helmets with tin foil to “block out the space mind control lasers.”

228.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to start any SITREP (Situation Report) with “I recently had an experience I just had to write you about…”

229.  Do not attempt to take the gas masks off of Death Korps troopers.

230.  Rodents are not entitled to burial with full military honors, even if they are “casualties of war.”

231.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to mock command decisions in front of the press.

232.  You should not speculate on the penis size of anyone who outranks you.  Especially if they’re in earshot.

233.  You cannot arrest children for being rude.

234.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to create new, made-up government forms, then insist they be filled out.

235.  No one is allowed to perform “lap dances” in uniform.

236.  Past lives have absolutely no effect on the chain of command.

237.  Cain is technically allowed to kill any of you if he finds reason to, so stop pissing him off.

238.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to defect to other military service branches during training missions.

239.  Your race is not “other” on official documents.

240.  There is no Scoundrels ethics committee.  And if there was, Thomas Drake would not be chairman.

241.  Chainsaws are not the answer to every question.  Nor is “more chainsaws.”  Or “chainsaw cannons.”  Except for that one time, and yes, it was awesome.

242.  Stop posting classified information on social media.

243.  Adam Vir is no longer allowed to play “Hippocratic Oath chicken” with Dr. Kril.

244.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to cook nerve gas in the sink.

245.  There is no “annoy” setting on a phaser.

246.  A wet towel is not an improvised weapon.  Unless you’re Master Chief.  There’s a reason the Covenant calls him “The Demon.”

247.  I know you all have passes, but if the gun can’t fit through the x-ray machine, it doesn’t go on the plane.

248.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to download Internet Explorer into the Geth hivemind or the Martian noosphere.

249.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to demand payment in liquor, backrubs, or bubble wrap.

250.  Any Exterminatus-grade weapon is not “my little friend.”

251.  Airlocks do not double as waste disposals.

252.  No member of the Scoundrels or their crews are a pagan god or goddess of fertility.

253.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to learn profanities in any language that can bend reality.

254.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to steal their own souls.

255.  There is not a Space Marine Chapter whose heraldry is a smiley face.

256.  The following weapons are no longer allowed as dueling choices: steamrollers, nerve gas, land mines, or heavy artillery.

257.  Shepard is no longer allowed to drive or pilot anything.

258.  Han Solo is no longer allowed to attempt any piloting maneuver in which the original inventor was killed doing.

259.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to play The Only Thing They Fear is You every time a super soldier enters the battlefield.

260.  In formal introductions to nobility, you are not allowed to introduce your companions as “the other guys.”

261.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to monologue.

262.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to do anything that would make a Sith Lord cry.

263.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to get telepaths to hurry up the speeches of long winded politicians.

264.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to hand over annoying reporters to any organization that could be considered a theocracy.

265.  If a black op requires you to impersonate an employee, you are not allowed to bill the target for overtime.

266.  By definition, chaplains cannot be atheist.

267.  The proper response to the question “Why?” is not “Why not?”

268.  It is assumed that a properly trained Titan Pilot knows what at least one of the buttons in the Titan’s cockpit does, and it is wrong for Cooper to pretend otherwise.

269.  At the end of a high profile assassination mission, the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to play disco music on the target’s phone.

270.  The Scoundrels cannot hear the soundtrack.

271.  Thermonuclear hand grenades do not exist, and the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to try and make them.

272.  I assure all of the Scoundrels with absolute certainty that Ralph is not a traditional Japanese name.

273.  None of the Scoundrels are from Margaritaville.

274.  Hawaiian shirts are not part of any of our governments’ formal uniforms.

275.  Master Chief is not allowed to record Gravemind ASMR.

276.  The Scoundrels are not allowed to write tell-all books about anything.

277.  “Legends never die!” is not a valid excuse.

278.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to think of new, creative, or fun uses for cursed artifacts.

279.  Check the door means listen to see if there’s any activity on the other side, not put multiple rounds through it.

280.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to give wasabi to unsuspecting aliens.

281.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to do anything they saw Jackie Chan do.

282.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to implement any battle plan that includes the words “and hope they miss a lot.”

283.  There is an upper limit to the number of people a bullet can go through.

284.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to unionize the Unggoy.

285.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to hack forge world PA systems so they only play Allentown.

286.  Sarcasm is wasted on Imperial Stormtroopers.

287.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to upload porn to the HUDs of their commanding officers.

288.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to download porn from the HUDs of their commanding officers.

289.  No matter how tough the battle, the Scoundrels are to keep the congratulatory ass-slapping to a minimum.

290.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use time machines to invade Germany on August 31, 1939 and thus secure Belgian dominion over Europe.

291.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to Tokyo drift tanks

292.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to “catch air” in military vehicles.

293.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to send anything to the past, future, or alternate dimensions.

294.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to mount speakers on tanks to play Ghost Division as they drive into battle.

295.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to post memetic hazards on the internet.

296.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to bind eldritch dieties to their will and make them mow the lawn.

297.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to load weapons with all tracer rounds

298.  If your personal weapon can be read with a Geiger counter, you aren’t allowed to have it.

299.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to turn Khornite daemon worlds into self supporting blood banks.

300.  “Pimp my Death Star” is not a real show, and we are not bringing Grand Moff Tarkin back from the dead to host it.

301.  Prussian Glory March is not a disco song.

302.  We know that Shepard was brought back from the dead by Cerberus, but no matter how high profile or how close a friend, the Scoundrels are not allowed to ask Cerberus, the Adeptus Mechanicus, or, god forbid, Fabius Bile to bring anyone or anything back from the dead.

303.  Any weapon that can be set to “flay” is strictly forbidden.

304.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to sing the Oompa Loompa song every time someone annoying dies.

305.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to store squeeze tubes of explosive putty in medicine cabinets.

306.  On most planets, shoulder holsters are frowned upon as casual attire.

307.  Zero body count does not mean just the ones they can find.

308.  Walmart is not a one stop shopping place for hunting demons.

309.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to play football/soccer with AT-ST or Sentinel walkers.

310.  None of you are currently parents, but if you ever become one, Trazyn the Infinite is not to be named your child’s godfather.

311.  You know what, the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to name any of the following as godparents of any potential children:

-The God-Emperor of Mankind

- Emperor Palpatine

- Councilor Sparatus

- Leman Russ [Bjorn said it was OK so fuck you.]

- Kahless the Unforgettable

- Kuben Blisk

- Kharn the Betrayer

312.  Searching a building means entering it, not leveling it with artillery and digging through the rubble.

313.  FedEx does not deliver to Tatooine.

314.  None of the Scoundrels are allowed to single-handedly make Starfleet Academy the number one party school in the universe.

315.  Covering fire does not include nuclear weapons.

316.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to challenge anyone to a dance-off to the death.

317.  Kirk, rifts in the time-space continuum are not for your personal amusement.

318.  Blowing up the top twenty floors of a building is not a “diversion.”

319.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to convince Sith Lords to use Force lighting on their welding projects.

320.  Canadian is not a real language, and you can’t set your translators to it.

321.  There is no such thing as a were-saxophonist.

322.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to tell new personnel that starship windows can be rolled down.

323.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to start wars between major weapons corporations, especially “because I’m bored.”

324.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to clear enemy underground bunker complexes just using Bangalore torpedoes.

325.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to order a lance of Imperial Knights to perform synchronized dance numbers.

326.  The Scoundrels are to leave out human mating rituals when presenting cultural exchanges to alien ambassadors.

327.  When raiding enemy corporations or terrorist organizations, the Scoundrels are no longer allowed to look at the target’s HR files to see if they have better benefits.

328.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use time machines to collect autographs.

329.  Any buttocks belonging to the Scoundrels or any of their crews are permanently forbidden from making contact with any copy machine.

330.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to go FTL to avoid red lights.

331.  “Just throw them out the airlock” is not a backup first contact protocol.

332.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use the Enterprise’s transporters to fill enemy starships with jello.

333.  None of the Scoundrels are the patron saints of large explosions.

334.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to make, accept, or take rake-offs on bets concerning X-class end-of-the-universe scenarios.

335.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to go on PA systems and announce they just won The Game.  Goddammit.

336. The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to trick Captain Marvel and Cato Sicarius any superheroes or super soldiers they deem “annoying” into fighting each other.

337.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to sell tickets to or organize cage matches between prominent super soldiers.

338.  Lockpicking and door breaching are two entirely different things.

339.  Performing obscene acts while in the cockpit of or piloting large combat mechs is strictly prohibited.

340.  Freeing slaves out of justice is good.  Out of spite, not so much.

341.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to compose offensive emails during stealth operations on the target CEO’s email and subsequently CC the entire company.

342.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to recreate the Charge of the Light Brigade with the Death Riders of Krieg.

343.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use telepaths to get out of speeding tickets.

344.  The state-controlled news service of the Imperium of Man most definitely does not have a liberal bias.

345.  Likewise, the state-controlled news service of the United Federation of Planets does not have a conservative bias.

346.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to kidnap Ewoks or Volus and put them in hamster wheels.

347.  Adam Vir is to, by order of Supreme Grand Master Azrael of the Dark Angels, return the Watchers in the Dark he took from The Rock as pets.

348.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to spend the entirety of their bonus pay on lottery tickets.

349.  The very concept of a Hutt lap dancer will earn a surprise visit from the Deathwatch.

350.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to use grenade launchers to play bocce ball.

351.  If you are unsure of which side of the road you are supposed to drive on, the middle of the road is not a healthy compromise.

352.  No matter how cool it would be, the Scoundrels are not allowed to use any time machine to loan General Eisenhower a squadron of X-wings for D-Day.

353.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to program medical droids for “aggressive dentistry.” 

354.  The Scoundrels are to stop trying to get a reality TV show based on themselves.

355.  Garrus Valkarian is not “on loan” to the Vindicare Temple to improve either his or their sniping skills.

356.  Pointing out a massive plothole in any bad guy’s plan will not stop them from attacking you.

357.  Preliminary nuclear bombardment is not automatically Plan A.

358.  Maverick and Tope are not tax exempt for being chaplains. 

359.  Thomas Drake is to stop teaching classes to the rest of the Scoundrels on tax evasion.

360.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to refit tanks with jump jets.

361.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to create their own currencies.

362.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to attempt to set Jawas on fire with a massive magnifying glass.

363.  The Stanley Cup does not have the same power as the Holy Grail.  Not even on Canadians.

364.  The Scoundrels are not allowed to steal the Stanley Cup.

365.   The Eldar really hate it when you greet them with “Live long and prosper.”

366.   The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to give pre-teen children their phone numbers, especially when they are on black ops.

367.  You cannot partake in the sport of fencing with a broadsword.

368.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to switch nationalities or service branches for tax purposes.

369. None of the Scoundrels are “He who must not be named only in passing.”

370.  The Scoundrels are no longer allowed to shoot at natural disasters.

Well, there it is.  I hope you enjoyed it, and if you would like to add to the list, feel free!  

[ayellowcurtain]

if you could write smth abt Sander convincing Robbe to take cute mirror selfies in the bathroom (just for themselves) but bc sander thinks they look really good

The improvised V-day prompt

Robbe swings his legs in the air, sitting on Sander’s bathroom counter, watching take his shower, playing with his fingers plopped on his thighs. Robbe checked the time when he got here and Sander looked surprised but he wasn’t early, Sander just got carried away with his art like always. 

“Come on! Give me at least a clue.” Sander smiles, not surprised with Robbe’s curiosity and continues with his shower, moving his head to the side to wash his body. 

“I’m gonna get inside if you don’t.” Robbe smiles before Sander can even look at him because he’s sure he would react to that. Sander looks at him right away, lifting his brows slightly. 

“That’s all I’ve been asking.” 

“We’re gonna be late to...whatever we’re doing tonight if I take a shower with you.” 

Sander snorts and looks up, letting the water hit his face directly, rubbing his palms against it to rinse the soap off. 

Watching Sander take a shower is really a test to Robbe’s self-control but he manages if he keeps his eyes on his hands, resting on his thighs. 

He can only see all the way to Sander’s knees, moving around inside the wet area as he finishes his shower, opening the glass door to grab his towel, drying a little bit of his hair first, moving down to his chest and Robbe finally sees the end of the towel being wrapped around his waist. 

Sander takes a few steps and Robbe tilts his head when he sees the pair of feet standing right in front of him. Sander puts his hands gently on Robbe’s thighs and opens them enough so he can stand in between, as close as possible and Robbe locks his heels around Sander, finally looking at him, putting his arms around his neck. 

“Finally all mine.” Robbe whispers, and Sander kisses his cheek, down his jaw and neck but not as intentional as Robbe would like it. 

“Always all yours.” 

“Can’t we just skip to the end of the night?” Robbe whispers in his ear, bitting it carefully, smiling when Sander moans against his skin, for once feeling so much warmer than Robbe. 

“No. I have big plans for us tonight, Robbe.” 

Robbe rolls his eyes, pushing himself to the edge, slipping back to the floor when Sander steps back, giving him the minimum space. Sander turns him around and hugs him tightly, kissing his neck again. 

“I saw you taking pictures, sneaky boy.” 

Robbe bites the inside of his bottom lip, looking at them in the mirror, just blurry shadows. 

“Just of your annoying face.” 

“I don’t mind, you know that. You can take all the pictures you want.” 

Now that he has the permission, Robbe pushes his hips forward just so he can make his hand fit inside the pocket of his stupidly tight jeans and grabs his phone with his fingertips, pulling it out, pointing the camera forward so he can take some pictures. He snuggles closer and Sander holds him tighter, both arms around his waist. 

Robbe takes some pictures of their foggy shadows and then Sander lets go of him, only for a second to clean the mirror so their faces can be seen in the pictures. 

“Can’t believe I have a personal photographer. We look very good together.” 

Sander grabs Robbe’s phone from his hand and takes a few more photos. 

“Some would call that a stalker but okay. We’re perfect for each other.” 

Sander laughs, kissing his jaw before letting go of him to go back to his bedroom. 

Sander is usually pretty quick to find his outfits because it’s almost like an uniform: boots, black jeans, white shirt, black jacket, and tonight he takes forever and that only makes Robbe even more anxious. Sander is making himself look extremely handsome and the butterflies in Robbe’s stomach agitate with the thought of a romantic night, just the two of them, and how much effort Sander always makes to create every moment together feel very special. 

[candycityy]

Some (established relationship) Rivetra birthday crack/fluff, ft. awkward!Levi, because I can.

Levi sucks at giving gifts.

Maybe it's just the fact that he's awkward as fuck, but the notion of having to find something nice for another person fills him with equal parts dread and exhaustion. Honestly, how would he know what they'd want, anyway? He'd much rather just shove a couple of coins in their direction and call it a day.

The whole concept of gifts had been a culture shock to him, after leaving the Underground—not that he didn't understand what it meant to get someone something, but just the whole song and dance about it, of how every even remotely special occasion called for a gift of some sort. The first time he'd heard of it, a squadmate was asking him to contribute something to Erwin's promotion hamper, and he'd almost snorted, assuming it was a joke; the fucker had just been promoted to Commander of the Survey Corps, honestly, wasn't that gift enough?

Fortunately, his squad knows better than to ask him to contribute things; they just ask for money whenever they're doing a group gift, which he's happy enough to part with. And with matters outside the squad, well...he still doesn't really get why people thing he's so fucking terrifying, but in this, at least, he's happy to be excluded.

Well, until now. Unlike him, Petra actually does enjoy gifts; she's one of those crazy people who likes giving them, who handwrites cards and wraps presents in nice paper and glittery ribbons (another thing he doesn't get. He's supposed to spend time and money on wrapping paper that's just going to get torn into shreds?) and somehow, considering how they're dating and all, he doubts she'd be content with his usual fare of a few coins and a curt happy birthday over breakfast.

He briefly considers staging a training accident; surely, she wouldn't expect a gift from him if he were in the med bay recovering from a debilitating but non-life-threatening injury?

"Aha," Hanji says, briefly pausing in her monologue about Titan reproduction (he hadn't been listening in the slightest, but that's never been a deterrent) to point her spoon dangerously close to his face. "I recognise that look. You're thinking again, aren't you."

"None of your business." He pokes morosely at his dinner, and misses. The tines of his fork strike the porcelain with a rather unpleasant metallic screech that makes them both wince.

"It's not a good look on you, you know," she comments, shovelling a fragment of potato into her mouth as Levi watches with barely veiled disgust. "Thinking. You're much better off playing the role of the macho action hero, all brawn and no brain—"

"I will stab you with this butter knife," he threatens, with a kind of despondent savagery. The woman just leans on her elbow and waits, perfectly unruffled.

He chews, swallows, and after a long pause, finally admits, "Petra's birthday is coming up."

"And you're thinking about what to get her?" Hanji smirks. "Sweet."

"I'm thinking about why surface-dwellers have so much time and energy to bother with stupid things like gifts," he grumbles, spearing a chunk of broccoli with more aggression than strictly necessary.

"Well, they're a welcome distraction from the terrors of daily life, don't you think?" She pushes her goggles up her nose with a kind of practiced impatience, and continues, "I think...Petra probably would want something heartfelt. You know, something you wouldn't give to anyone else."

"I wouldn't give anyone anything, from the start."

"You know what I mean." Hanji rolls her eyes. "The gift's gotta make her feel special. Maybe something with a sort of significance, or meaning, or...oh! Something handmade? How good are you with handicrafts?" She eyes him, looking rather less hopeful than he'd like. It rankles him.

"I'm pretty good at carving," he snaps. Hanji brightens.

"Ooh. Wood?"

"Flesh." He shovels the rest of the stew into his mouth, ignoring her snort of indignation, and stands up. "Don't choke on your food, Four-Eyes."

==

In his time in the Underground, he'd learnt precisely two things about food: one, to defend it with your life, and two, if you chuck a bunch of ingredients into a pot and apply heat, you can call it a casserole, which is a fancy-sounding name for something that barely counts as a dish at all.

Furlan, being unable to cook for his life, had been put on permanent ingredient-gathering duty (read: theft) instead. Isabel, on the other hand, had an irritating tendency to get distracted, disappear off to fuck-knows-where with the food still on the stove, and promptly forget all about it. By the process of elimination, Levi had took over most of the cooking.

Being easy, flexible, and requiring very little attention, casserole had quickly become his signature dish. And yeah, he wouldn't call himself good by any means, but as far as he's concerned, no-one'd ever gotten food poisoning from a dish he'd made, which he counts a win.

Still, he figures that not poisoning anyone is a pretty low bar to set for a birthday dinner for his girlfriend.

For the eleventh time since entering the store, Levi wonders if he should just forget it. Get her some bauble or trinket, that glittery shit that girls always like. But against his will, Hanji's irritating voice drones in his head: something heartfelt. Something you wouldn't give to anyone else.

Levi scowls darkly at a shelf of cheese. "What the fuck's the difference between cheddar and mozzarella, anyway?" he mutters to himself, before giving up and shoving both into his basket.

He continues wandering through the store, grabbing whatever he thinks will go well together. He barely glances at the price tags as he goes, too distracted by his thoughts—does she like chickpeas? Or was it lentils? Are those different?

(Of course, he pays for his inattention dearly, when the cashier coolly informs him of his total and he almost chokes. Well, he really should've known; the storekeeper in the Underground always did seem to loathe them with an aggressive vengeance.)

==

Carrots—potatoes—beef. Levi measures out the ingredients carefully and scoops them into the pot, eyeing the stew bubbling cheerfully over on the stove, and allows himself a brief moment of smugness.

He's outdone himself, even if he says so himself. Everything's been planned, down to the last detail. In the morning, he'd presented Petra with a new fountain pen, a perfect decoy gift, especially since she'd mentioned earlier how she'd been needing one. He hadn't missed the flash of disappointment in her eyes—shitty Four-Eyes had been right for once, he supposes—but she'd schooled her expression into one of appropriate delight quickly enough, and exclaimed over it as necessary, and he'd known she'd fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

He's even timed this whole dinner thing perfectly, getting the guys to keep her back for a bit after training (which they'd agreed to, albeit with some snickering) so he could prep for the meal. She'd be in the showers now, he guesses; and now, with the brick oven all heated up and the dish nicely in place, he probably has about twenty, thirty minutes before the next step of the plan, when he'll go to retrieve her from her room under some pretense or another, lead her to the dining hall, and—

"Levi? What's going on?" Petra rubs her eyes, strolling into the room and and sniffing the air curiously. "Are you—are you cooking?"

What the fuck.

"Petra." He tries his best to block the stove, desperately searching for a way out. "You're back early. This is, uh...an experiment. For Hanji. It could blow up any second, so off you go now."

Petra does not oblige. Her eyes narrow, and she tries to peek around him. "Your experiment is stew?"

"It's not stew, it's...Titan bait," he improvises wildly, making her brows lift in disbelief. "Seriously, Petra. Go away." His eyes dart to the wall clock; he needs about fifteen more minutes, at least. "Didn't Eld...didn't the guys ask you to stay for a bit?"

She shrugs, still craning her neck to try to see the contents of the kitchen counter. There's a hint of a grin on her face now. "Auruo was bragging again about something-or-the-other, and bit his tongue, and I slipped away in the commotion. Levi, is that cake?"

"I told you, it's Titan bait. Now get out, that's an order." He tries to keep his tone cold and steely, a feat which is proving much more challenging than usual with his very pretty, very annoying girlfriend standing on tiptoe, trying her best to peek over his shoulder.

Judging by her expression of keen amusement, he fails quite spectacularly.

"Levi," his irrepressible subordinate goes, her eyes gleaming, "your cake—sorry, Titan bait—says 'Happy Birthday, Petra'."

With a frustrated exhale, he gives up trying to block her, and slumps back to the kitchen counter. Petra waits, tapping her foot, still looking thoroughly amused. Her hair is still damp from the showers, he notices. But despite the fact that she has a towel around her neck and is dressed in a ratty old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants—her standard evening attire—his breath catches in his throat. She's beautiful.

"Okay, fine," he grumbles, tearing his gaze away. "I'm cooking. It's for you. Happy birthday. You're still a brat."

She laughs, and the sound makes his lips pull into a reluctant smile, too. "I never took you for the domestic type, captain," she teases, leaning into him and winding her arms around his back. "Stew? But didn't you already give me a gift, though?"

"Casserole," he corrects. "It sounds fancier. And that was a decoy—this was supposed to be a surprise. I mean, I thought...since it's the first time you're having a birthday, well. With us, like. Together." He clears his throat, and silently wills himself not to do anything stupid and embarrassing, like—Walls forbid—blush. "Remind me to have a talk with Auruo, will you."

"Well, count me surprised," she says, leaning in and grinning up at him.

He rolls his eyes.

"Anyway. Since you're here so early," he goes, gazing at her with a look of utmost seriousness, "here. You can help to chop the onions."

Petra blinks, indignant. "Seriously?"

"Nah, I'm kidding. That's for ruining my surprise, you brat."

==

"...Levi?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Happy birthday, Petra."

[salemorbit]

Midnight Mishaps

[Todoroki x genderneutral!Reader]

warnings: mentions of being hurt and wounds and stuff, but otherwise none!

~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~

You breathed in time with your punches, letting out all your frustrations into the punching bag in front of you. Sweat rolled down your forehead and into your eyes, but you were too focused to wipe it away.

The past week had been incredibly stressful for you in terms of schoolwork and hero training. You were exhausted half the time, and the other half consisted of projects or papers taking up your attention. You desperately needed some me-time, but your schedule simply did not allow it.

Which was mainly why it was nearly 3 in the morning and you were chugging away at the equipment in the weight room of the UA dorms. It was the only time when the weight room was empty, and the only time you didn't have something trying to chip away at your life force.

Letting out a yell, you threw a heavy punch at the bag, sending it swinging back generously. You held out your hands to steady the bag's movement, catching your breath and finally wiping at your forehead.

You headed over toward the bench and your workout bag, thirsty for the water you packed away. What you failed to notice, however, was the stray dumbbell that rolled closer than you remembered.

Taking a few steps, your foot suddenly caught on the handle of the dumbbell, sending you falling to the floor with a yelp. You tried to put out your hand to stop yourself using the edge of the bench, but you miscalculated the corner and cut your hand on the metal.

You pulled your hand to your chest with a hiss, tears welling up at the pain of both your bruised ankle and your wounded hand. You assessed the damage of your palm and its cut, wincing at the depth of the injury.

"Damn," you sighed, thinking of how late in the night it was. Recovery Girl was long past asleep, and you knew if you tried to wake her up now it would lead to your death rather than your healing. And your own knowledge of first aid was dangerously lacking, not even owning a bandaid to try to put on your hand.

Getting up and nursing your hand, you were forced to call it a night. The next task was figuring out how you were going to wrap up your hand without getting it infected and keeping it available for use.

You racked your brain for people who might be up at this hour. Midoriya? No, he would've gone to sleep an hour ago. Ururaka? She would faint at the sight of blood, probably. Bakugou? His bedtime was eight o'clock and he'd definitely murder you for waking him up for this.

Heading for the dorm common room, you figured you'd have to make do with your own knowledge and the paper towels in the common room's kitchen. Aizawa would be disappointed in your carelessness, using this situation to turn it into a "learning opportunity," and you really weren't in the mood for a lecture.

You threw your bag on the kitchen island and rustled around in the drawers, trying to make as little noise as possible. You muttered to yourself incessantly as you couldn't find the paper towels or tape of any kind.

On the other side of the wall, Todoroki's room sat. He was usually a heavy sleeper, but this particular night proved unsuccessful for him falling asleep easily. Every little noise seemed to wake him up.

And your kitchen rustling was no exception. Todoroki checked the time on his clock, taking note of the noise. Three in the morning? Todoroki furrowed his eyebrows and got up and out of bed, slipping on some sandals and making his way quietly toward the kitchen.

He rounded the corner with utmost stealth, peering around the corner and seeing someone moving in the shadows. His senses went on high alert as he started to heat up the left side of his body, warning flames dancing on his fingertips. If this was an intruder, they were definitely going to get flayed alive.

You finally found a roll of paper towels, looking at it triumphantly and turning. Suddenly, your eyes caught on a light source coming from the corner of the kitchen, and you dropped the towels in surprise.

"Who's there?" Todoroki called out, you immediately recognizing his voice. You sighed in relief, picking up the fallen paper towels and setting them on the counter.

"Todoroki, it's me," you whisper-yelled back, "[Y/N]."

"[Y/N]?" He asked, the flames dying out on his fingers. Todoroki fully came around the corner with a confused look on his face. You smiled weakly at him, trying to hide your hurt hand.

"You're up late," you commented as Todoroki flipped on the kitchen light switch. You cringed at the sudden light, pulling your injured hand further behind you.

"Couldn't sleep," he said simply. He looked at you curiously, noticing your defensive body language and the way you favored your right hand. "Are you okay?"

"What? Yeah, I'm just peachy," you forced a smile, backing up into a counter. Your hand hit the edge awkwardly, sending a shooting pain up your wrist. You couldn't help but suck in a breath at the sudden feeling, whipping your hand back in front of you and cradling it.

"You're not," Todoroki noticed. He took a few steps closer toward you. "Can I see?"

You hesitantly gave him your injured hand, letting him turn it over in his own. His eyes widened at the deep gash in your palm, looking up at you.

"It's not bad," you tried to reason. Todoroki rolled his eyes and tugged your hand toward the sink, turning on the warm water.

"It's pretty bad," he scolded. "This might sting."

His warning was feeble compared to the electricity you felt sear through your palm as the water made contact with the wound. You didn't want to wake anyone else up, so you had to settle for silently screaming at the pain and allowing tears to well up in your eyes.

"Dude, that hurts so bad, what the hell," you stressed. Todoroki shut the water off and knelt down to a cabinet under the sink, pulling out a first aid kit.

"It'll only hurt worse if you don't take proper care of it," he said, opening up the kit on the island. "What happened?"

"I tripped in the weight room and I guess the bench was sharper than I thought," you admitted sheepishly. "It was stupid, I know."

"It wasn't stupid," he glanced at you, twisting off the cap of the antibacterial ointment. "What was stupid was trying to cover up an injury like this without getting help."

"It's just a cut," you shrugged.

"It could've gotten infected, and it won't heal properly without correct care," Todoroki reprimanded. You were taken aback by his insistence on the situation. It made you go quiet as he applied the ointment gently and then wrapped up the wound with medical gauze.

His hands were gentle and experienced, turning your hand over with utmost care so as to keep the wound from getting worse. Todoroki set your hand on the cool counter and he finished, tying the two ends of the gauze tightly on the back of your hand. You marveled at his fluidity and ability to improvise in the moment, taking care of you even though you hadn't made the best decision.

"You're pretty good at this," you said, watching him work. Todoroki shrugged, finishing up with the bandage and packing away the kit.

"Experience," was all he said. You knew what he meant, not wanting to overstep in the conversation. You flexed your hand and rubbed at the sore spot, testing it out.

"Thank you," you said as Todoroki stood upright again. "You didn't have to do this."

"If I didn't, who would've?" He smirked, leaning on the counter. "Recovery Girl would've let you bleed out if you woke her up like this."

You let out a soft laugh, smiling. "That's exactly what would've happened, actually. For a caregiver, she really doesn't care all too much."

"She has her moments," Todoroki shrugged again, the ghost of a smile on his face. It was quiet for a bit before you figured you should turn in for the night.

"I'm gonna go to bed," you said, grabbing your bag off the counter. "The week isn't over yet, and we have plenty of lectures in the morning."

You noticed that Todoroki hadn't made a move to leave where he was standing. You frowned turning to face him fully.

"You should get some rest, too," you prodded. Todoroki looked up at you like he was just jarred out of the most interesting thought he'd ever had.

"Huh? Oh, yes, maybe I should," he pushed away from the counter and headed your way toward the dorm hallway.

You walked together until you got to the division between the sides of the dorm. Todoroki had his room on the first floor, but you were one above. You were just about to turn to the elevator when Todoroki stopped you.

"If you ever get hurt again-" He started, you stopping and turning around, "I mean, if you ever need help again, just let me know. I'll be there."

You saw his nervous fidgets in the dim light, your lips curling into a smile. You looked at your feet and then back up at him fondly.

"I will, Todoroki, thank you."

~~~~~~~

i do love this man wholeheartedly omg omg

requests are welcome :)

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Not Anymore: Three

You stop toweling your hair for a moment and inspect the side of your neck in the mirror. The rash was still red. Still angry. And still spreading. Down your chest towards your belly.

“Ugh,” you groan, crinkling your nose in disgust and reaching for the cream you used to help keep the ugliness under control. “Turtlenecks it is.”

Loki pauses at the door and raises his fist to knock again. You should be out of the shower by now and he’s still concerned about you. He hefted the basket he was carrying a little higher and looked down to check over the contents one more time. He hoped he had the right things in it. Things he’d noticed you liked. Some hot cider. Specifically one of his mother’s recipes... Something he hoped would help ease your discomfort.

He started slightly when the computerized voice of FRIDAY said his name. 

“Yes?” he answered, clearing his throat. 

“Y/N has requested that you give her a moment, sir.”

“Thank you,” he answered, relaxing a little. It was nice to know that you’d heard the knock. 

But as the door swung open and you appeared, hurriedly dressed and your still wet, tangled hair thrown into a snarled, messy pony tail, he understood. You thought you were going back to work. And his heart dropped. It made him wonder how many times you;d been called from your leisure time to go and do something for someone. “Can I help you?” you ask, looking anxious and uncomfortable. 

“I- I uh- I brought you... this,” he said hesitantly, thrusting the basket out to you, “I- you looked like you could use- a- a pick me up? Is that what they call that?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, cheeks heating and carefully taking the basket, “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Loki said, hoping he sounded as sincere as he felt, “How is you neck?”

“Better,” you lie quickly. And immediately, your rash throbs in protest, itching in in retribution. 

Loki feels his eyes narrow but he smiles a little. In another life, he would have punished you for lying to him. Forced the truth out of you. But he can feel a fragility in you. A Vulnerablility that you’re trying to hide from him. And he wants you to not run away from him. So he doesn’t. Instead he says “The cider in the thermos is one of my mother’s recipes. Kind of. Some of the ingredients can’t be found here so... I had to improvise but. It might help.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, unexpectedly touched by that information as you blink back tears, hoping Loki doesn’t notice. 

“I won’t keep you,” he said, “You need to rest and I- I should go and make sure Thor isn’t doing something ridiculous.”

______

Thor looks around the small kitchenette in their suite and feels his brow furrow. He could sense the magic that Loki had worked to make... whatever it was he made. And it didn’t feel malevolent. Or even particularly mischievous. And he wondered what had spurred him to action. 

Apple peels and spices littered the counters and the air smelled crisp and sweet. Comfortable. And after a moment, Thor recognized that smell. One of their mother’s potions. Something designed to comfort. To ease pain. And Thor smiled a little. 

Loki, for all his tricks, only had a handful of moves when courting a lady of his acquaintance. One of those was being foolishly protective. And Thor wondered who it was that had stirred that particular feeling in his chest. It had been a long time. And Thor hoped, that for his sake, the lady returned his affections in kind.

____________

You set the basket on the counter and hesitantly lifted the thermos from it. There were some cookies and some other little odds and ends he had put in there. But he had seemed most anxious about the cider. 

He seemed to think it would help.

And as you twisted the top off and took a tentative sniff, you smiled a little. It smelled good. Like... well. Exactly like fall. Crisp and sweet. Like something you’d buy at a pumpkin patch but... different. There was something exotic that tickled your nose and made you shiver pleasantly when you took a sip.

So you snagged a cookie and carried the thermos and your snack over to you small sofa. Maybe, if you could relax a little bit, you could get your rash to calm down. 

And to do that, you needed a shitty rom com. And the supplies to do your nails.

[fenheart87]

Lukanette prompts #26 (but Luka says it...)

There was always a feeling of calm when he came home, almost nothing was better than touching down in the Paris airport and feeling the stress from touring fall off with every step from the airplane. It had been longer than Luka had liked to be away from his family and really this time he was early, not that he had told his family just yet. Luckily, Penny was the best and booked him a room where he was able to crash for the night and had options for food places nearby as he was sick of hotel room service.

“If you’re fighting with Ma again, I don't want to hear about it.” He answered the phone, knowing it was his sister on the other line.

“No, just talking about your baby pictures.”

“Oh great, you’re being sappy? Do I want to come home in that case?” Luka teased, not meaning a word of it.

“Blame your nephew, he started it.” He choked on air as he heard shuffling before Rose’s voice came through, indicating she had taken over the phone.

“Luka! We got approved for a baby boy! Captain has been a little weepy but like a good weepy because he has the most adorable face and dark hair but with a slight curl and his eyes gosh! They are like the ocean! He really likes your baby pictures, ah I can't wait for you to meet him!” Rose squealed in excitement, risking Luka’s much needed eardrum.

“Wait, wait, how did you get a whole baby?!” the older exclaimed, putting the phone on speaker in an attempt to save his ears.

“Well, two mommies loved each other very much and decided they wanted to share their love with a very special little baby. The two mommies went to meet the baby but on their way they met another precious child and they knew right away that the little boy with hair as dark a night and eyes like the ocean was destined to become part of their family. And after some time of play dates and special trips around the city, the mommies got to take their new son home.” There was some shuffling as Rose was sniffling and his sister murmuring words of comfort to her.

“I wow, congratulations… Another Couffaine huh?”

“Not quite, we still need to finalize some papers and such. We’re meeting up at Marinette’s parent’s bakery, he loves it there. This will be his first overnight stay so we’re excited but nervous because we want him to feel comfortable.”

“I don't think you have to worry, you both have a lot of love to give and worst case, Uncle Luka can come to the rescue.”

“If you were here yeah, rescue us or him depending. Maybe next time.”

“See you can be sappy! I’ve got to get going but do keep me posted, I’ll read my message even if I don’t respond right away.”

“Sure, stay safe and away from crazy fans.”

“Jules, you know we have a dye party set for when I get back. I’ll be fine.”

"Whatever loser."

So change of plans, Luka would get to see his favorite designing baker sooner rather than later which was fine by him. First he needed to wash off the plane smell and find his plain black hoodie, then he would surprise his girls. Plan in mind, Luka grabbed his shaving kit and started the shower. Shucking off his clothes and tossing them into the bag of dirty laundry he would need to do soon, the guitarist Stepped into the Shower to rinse off with Some body wash. Deciding his hair wasn't in need of a washing, Luka quickly got out and toweled off. 

Luka watched as Marinette played with Llewellyn. The boy looked so happy to be running around the bakery and picking up speed now that he had some sweets to perk him up. It was kind of eerie to look at said child because Llewellyn was similar in looks to a younger Luka, it was definitely that fate had played a huge hand in guiding the boy to his family. The smiles on his sister's faces were definitely worth it and seeing him he hoped would bring an even bigger smile to them. 

"Do you want to color a picture or have more cookies?" Marinette kneeled down to the little boy's height and smiled gently, hoping to ease the sudden anxiety he seemed to be feeling. It really pulled at the guitarist's heartstrings and his body moved to do what needed done before his brain had caught up with it. A soft tune slipped gently from the strings, sneaking by everyone as it blended in the background and caused little shoulders that were scrunched up to slowly relax and fall at ease. Two pairs of blue eyes sought his person but he pretended to not notice as he twined together the gentle melody with the heart songs of those sitting at the table sipping their drinks.

"Luka! You big meanie head!" Rose squealed and carefully tackled her brother in law from behind.

"Hey watch it now, Claire doesn't like the rough treatment."

"Oh hush you! Sneaky little meanie head." The petite blond hugged him even tighter.

"Well since you're here, can I get you anything to eat or drink?" The designer rose from her crouch and turned to the counter, slipping through the gap of the raised counter.

"Ah something warm please and maybe a macaroon or two."

"You got it!" Marinette spun around and reached to grab a mug from the shelf, her shirt sliding to reveal a hint of green and black on her pale skin.

"I uh hey Ma-ma-Marinette uh is that- its okay if I just have a plain cup! I just uh okay please don't punch me too hard but is that a tattoo?! " He could feel his cool factor dying at that moment.

Marinette dropped from her tiptoes to standing normally once more and Luka found he could breathe again as the tattoo went out of sight again. She had always been able to give him a heart attack and the guitarist could already hear the ribbing from his ever lovable sister.

"Oh! Yeah, it was a gift from Nona. You know Nathaniel and Marc’s comic? It’s inspired by Viperion." The petite woman brought over some macaroons and his designated cup with Sabine's special blend. It was like a piece of home and Luka took a large gulp in excitement, "I tend to forget unless I'm in a swimsuit or in the shower."

"Oh Luka!" Rose cried, swatting at Juleka who was laughing and grabbed some napkins to help clean up the tea that her brother had spit everywhere.

"Hey who are you?" The small voice drew the adults attention.

"Well I am called many names but to you, I am Uncle Luka. Juleka is my sister."

“Cap’tin says I look like a little you.”

“Yeah a little bit but just means you were meant to meet us, maybe even be a part of our family if that’s okay with you?” Lka smiled softly, watching the little blue eyes grow wide and a bit sparkly from tears. “What’s your favorite song?” 

“Smoke on the water.”

“Oh good choice! And what’s your name?” Luka started strumming the requested song, twisting the notes and improvising some notes as he watched the kid.

“Llewellyn, I’m this many!” The small boy held up six fingers with a big smile.

“That’s a big number.”

“Not as big as your number though… Why is your hair blue? Can I have green hair? Can I play guitar? How do you play it? Is it heavy? Can you sing too? Are you a rockstar? When I’m big, can I be like you?” The young boy fired off, slightly catching Luka off guard and causing the women to laugh.

“Slow down speed racer, deep breath,” the guitarist inhaled slowly and evenly with Llewellyn and released the breath in the same manner before answering, “now isn't that better? Blue is my favorite color, maybe we can have matching green hair for your party. Playing guitar can be tricky but if you want I can show you how, it can be heavy if you hold it too long but then you build up some muscles and it’s not so bad. I can sing but not as good as your Momma Rose. I’m not a big rockstar but when I grow up more I hope to be. And I’d like that but I doubt Momma Jules would like that too much, I drive her crazy.”

“Are you mean to her?” The small boy frowned, scooting back a few steps warily.

“Nope, just silly and it drives your Ma crazy because it happens a lot.” Luka’s honesty and resuming the plucking of his guitar strings to ease the sudden tension. Sharing a fond look with Juleka that they would later deny, the elder male lifted his guitar and removed the strap completely before sliding to the floor. Waving over the young look-alike, he helped to position the guitar and demonstrated how to strum and play different chords before letting the child noodle on the guitar. Luka picked himself up and finished his slightly cold tea before returning the mug to Marinette.

“He’s so happy Luka! Just look at him!” Rose was sniffling and wiping away tears, the reality that Llewellyn was part of their family finally settling in.

“Yeah he fits right in. So now that you found a mini me, with your attitude and shares a whole name with me, are you going to deny that’s why you picked him?”

“Nothing to deny.” Juleka wiped away a few stray tears from her wife’s face and laced their fingers together. “It was meant to be.”

“Calling dad out here Jules.” Luka quirked a brow, ignoring the snort his words caused.

“Calling B.S. huh? Fine, that’s about ninety percent, the other ten is he looks like he could be your kid if a certain designer were the mom.”

His ears were full of cotton and he missed the squeak of surprise because of course, this was Juleka he was talking about, Marinette was coming up behind him and he froze. The slight curl to Llewellyn’s hair was similar to his if he had it shorter, the blue eyes were lighter than his but the shape reminded him of Marinette’s. And judging by the sly look in his sister’s amber eyes and the giggles from his sister-in-law, they had planned this to drop that bomb at some point. That’s what he gets for having a nosy family.

“Unca Luka! My fingers hurt, how do you play for hours ?” Luka turned around as his nephew, that would take some getting used to, groaned.

“Practice and patience.”

“Sounds like good advice for other things.”

“Practice and patience, two very very useful things when it comes to many things.” Luka tried to smile reassuringly at Marinette who was turning an even deeper shade of red and made his way back to Llewellyn, intent on ignoring his scheming sisters and spending the little bit of time left for the day bonding.

[touyasdoll]

Hey Ash-babe!❤️

SO! I had two scenes that came to mind for ya prompt an’ this is what worked best. The other involved more sexy scenes but the fundamentals behind ‘em required too much brain processin’ for what I’m able to supply. Also, I ain’t had much going on in voicing Jirou’s character before so thats made all the little bits more challenging to figure out. Maybe someday…

Anyways! Here ya go, babe! 💕🥂🎉 Congrats on the milestones once again!

— I.R. 🥰💖

—————

It was hard, holding back the choked off laugh that threatened to escape you as you took in the sight before you. It was… it was something alright. Your once pristine kitchen was an utter wreck, making for ‘that something’ to be a disaster.

“Love,” you stated, a small snicker falling past your lips as you spoke,”I think I’m the only one in this relationship that’s allowed to bake in addition to cooking.”

Jirou just sat there, staring up at the cupcake pan that was somehow stuck to the ceiling in a mix of despair and disbelief.

“Yeah…”she said weakly, her eyes not looking away from the ceiling despite all the other messes of disbelieving proportions that littered the kitchen. “…that’s fair.”

“You-you can make tea?” you offered with a smile, pushing the laugher down finally in an attempt to be helpful, to comfort her. It probably would’ve worked, too, if the dish towel, that had also somehow gotten stuck on to the ceiling, didn’t choose that exact moment to fall down — landing precisely on top of Kyōka’s head and covering her entire face.

You couldn’t help it. A snort escaped and soon full blown laughter, giggles had brought you to your knees as you collapsed against the side of the hallway wall. You were so overcome with the hilarity of it all that you missed the fond smile that broke out over your girlfriend’s face as she tugged the towel off her head and looked away from the cooking catastrophe above of her own making.

By the Gods, did she ever love you.

It was why she was baking the cupcakes, after all. Her love, her adoration for you — and your mind, soul, voice, hands, body, taste, scent, laughter, etc. and so on — lead her to purchase a small box, now tucked safely away in her messenger bag. A small box that contained a small ring. A small ring that was supposed to sit atop a tower of cupcakes. Your favorite cupcakes, actually. At least, that had been Kyōka’s plan before whatever went awry went awry. She still doesn’t know exactly what happened herself.

“Glad my pain amuses you so,”she deadpanned at you once your laughter subsided. The quirk of her lips assured you that there wasn’t any heat behind the words.

“Oh, I needed that!”you exclaimed, pushing yourself up and walking towards her, pulling her in for prolonged peck on the lips. “Mmm. Yummy~“

She blushed at the action and then huffed. Years of being exposed to your natural insistence of PDA having made her reflex of embarrassment wane into almost nothing and what didn’t wane was quickly gotten over. She took a look around the kitchen and shook her head. “Yeah, they were supposed to be.”

“How about I help you clean up and then we order in tonight?”

“Yes. Hell yes,”she instantly agreed, not wanting to be in the kitchen for longer than necessary after everything.

You snickered at her dramatically exhausted response. “I’ll try coaxing my pan down and you start on the cabinets and counters. Then we can both do the dishes, mop and dust up.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am”,she teased in good spirits once again, giving a sloppy salute. Maybe she could still propose with some improvisation after dinner…

A long bath sounded like a good idea already, if she snuck upstairs for a moment between eating then it wouldn’t take too long to place out some candles. Candles and that luxury bathset that Momo had given you both last week when she came back from vacation. Kyōka could arrange it around the little box, opened with the ring on display? Not her original intention for the evening, but hey — heroes need to know how to think on their feet (she doubts this is even remotely what Aizawa-sensei hoped those skills he drilled into their heads would be used for, but they’re being used so there). A crystal clear image was already forming in her mind.

And if a long, candle lit bath with you ended up with something more, spilling out into the bedroom and onto the bed, later leaving you two needing a shower later, well, she wouldn’t be complaining.

And if she wasn’t complaining later, then you certainly weren't about to either. Especially not, considering you had let your girlfriend go ahead of you to the upstairs while you lingered down still, all just so you could arranged your own proposal with your vintage record player in the living room.

And if you both just happened to trade off on the same braincells for the rest of the weekend, then that was your business. You both had gotten the entire weekend off for a reason, dammit, and all your friends knew well enough to not drop by without calling first when you ensured time off. Not unless they wanted a show, to join or end up with a broken nose in one unfortunate surprise case that Kaminari does not talk about.

But that was for later. Right now was for cleaning up the cupcakes that never were and throwing soap bubbles at the one you each loved more than life itself.

— END.

Disney references? What Disney references? ❤️😘

wait you actually wrote this for me? 🥺💜😭 this is the cutest thing that I have ever fucking read & I love it so, so much ahh thank you!!

[the-fiction-witch]

I Hate You P3

TV SHOW: THE QUEENS GAMBIT COUPLE: BENNY X READER RATING: SEXY 

I groaned as I woke up seeing the bright light cascading from the windows and door, Loud music coming from the other room, I groaned sitting up rubbing my eyes. I slipped my robe over my shoulders going out to the rest of the apartment seeing y/n stood at the oven making pancakes, her hair in rollers, in a little blue sleeveless dress slightly dancing to the record player.

"Morning" I groaned

"Morning Husband!" she smiled "Coffee?"

"Uhhh yeah sure"

"Here you go" she smiled handing me a cup of coffee

"Aww thank you wifey" I smiled giving her a kiss "why are all the lights and the music on?"

"Because this is the time I get up benny. Get used to it"

"Fine, see how long you can keep this up when I don't go to bed till like three Am"

"fine, have your coffee darling"

"I shall" I nodded having a sip of my coffee but it tasted terrible, "Ughh! what is this!"

"I made you coffee darling" she smiled

"what did you do to this coffee? what was the exact steps in you making it"

"Coffee powder, milk, Water"

"Okay..."

"I did however use Almond Milk"

"Ughhhhhhhh...." I relused almost being sick "Okay. Thank you dear" I sighed tipping the coffee down the sick "I'm going for a shower"

"Ohh you might want to wait, I used up all the hot water" she smiled "sorry darling"

".... Its fine dear" I sighed starting up the shower and it was a cold as ice, "I'm gonna use your shampoo okay hun I'm out of mine" I told her as I climbed in the shower

"No! benny! it's mine use your own!"

"what's yours is mine darling"

"Fine, Ohh by the way I used your razor to shave my legs"

"... You know what that's not a problem, I wasn't planning on shaving,"

"You should"

"Should I?"

"It would make your wife happy"

"so would a divorce and I'm not giving you that either"

"I'll wax it in your sleep"

"You wouldn't dare"

"Wouldn't I Benny?" she smiled as she did her hair "Ohh I'm having some friends over later by the way"

".... fine. Then I'm having the boys over tomorrow" I told her as I climbed out my shower I smirked and dried off then threw my towel on the floor and wrapped my robe around me she seemed annoyed with me already "Feel free to leave me wifey, It's only going to get worse"

"Ohh is it now? well I'm going to stay put, I know I can last longer then you"

"why so sure darling?"

"Ohh I'm two days out from my period benny. You ready for it?"

"are you now? How about I start getting really into Diy projects that I will never complete"

"How about I get really into cooking and constantly make terrible foods"

"I'm never buying a dish washer"

"I'm gonna get a cat"

"I swear to go I will stat having chess themed orgies in this house, with or without your participation"

"I going to take a female lover"

".... Actually I'm fine with that. In fact I'd be slightly into it" I shrug "I will..."

"You'll what?"

"I will get you so fucking pregnant, you'll give birth to fucking twins or worse"

"My god do I hate you"

"I hate you too" I smiled pulling her to kiss me she resisted at first but happily kissed me back wrapping her arms around me tightly

"You'd be into me having a side girlfriend?"

"Kinda yeah? If you'll let me watch"

"You're disgusting" she sighed going to the bedroom

"what! It's hot!" I complain following her but she threw my jeans at me

"Put pants on!"

"My house! I can walk around naked if I want"

".... Damn it I can't you'll enjoy it"

"I will" I nodded "Infact could you, like seriously. that would be very very nice wifey" I smirked cuddling her from behind

"Hands off unless your going to fuck me benny," she laughs pushing me off her "Can't try this sugar sweet before you buy" she smirked playing with her hair and shaking her ass at me so much her dress physically moved from side to side with her shaking

"I thought I had bought it. considering... we are married."

"Don't you poke holes in my sexy analogy"

"Maybe I would have had sex with you if you'd given me a minuet"

"Nope! dwindling to none existent sex life. Welcome to married like benny watts"

"Our sex life is not dwindling if I have anything to say about it"

"Who said you did?"

"Our sex life is not going anywhere" I smirked grabbing her pulling her to my chest and grabbing her ass "Not at least till give got you pregnant y/n"

"You are never getting me pregnant"

"Aren't I?" I smirked "Just you try and stop me"

"Even if you do I'll make sure there all girls, all hate chess and want nothing to do with there father"

"You have no control about that honey, I do remember. so I'll make sure there all chess playing, messy, dirty little boys who all look just like me"

"I hate you"

"I hate you too" I smiled pulling her to kiss me.

I sat at the table working on my next book, Y/n came in bringing the last two crates of beer in she had borrowed my car or well she took my keys without telling me she was getting beer in for her 'freinds' she had visiting tonight,

"who have you got coming tonight anyway?"

"My friends"

"what friends?"

"My poker friends"

"I thought you poker friends was luke and everyone?"

"Ehh some of them yes"

"You have other friends?"

"I assume you have other friends then just lukes and your chess guys?"

".... I do not"

"Ohh. Well I do" she shrugs taking the beer to the kitchen i tried to take one but she slapped my hand "Not for you"

"Owww..." I complained "How many people are coming then?"

"A few"

"A few?"

"Just some poker friends, some biker friends, and Dan he's my bestie"

"Is he now?"

"will you just chill. also pack your chess board away unless you want it broken"

"why?"

"Because It'll get broken if you leave it there" she laughs

"I am growing more and more concerned about your friends"

"Yeah and I've been concerned about yours since I met them"

"Have you?"

"The boys are weird"

".... I'll give you that" I sighed

"Benny?"

"Yeah?" I sighed as I put my board away

"I don't like your clothes."

"You have mentioned that many times y/n"

"what! you do dress like a cowboy porn star!"

"Okay the cowboy I get where are you getting porn star?"

"The weird caterpillar you keep above your mouth"

"You love it" I smirked as I put it away

"But seriously benny I don't like your clothes"

"Okay?"

"Take them off"

"...Ohh" I laughed "Something you wanted wifey?" I smirked leaning on the kitchen counter beside her

"Nope just wanted to make you hard so I can abandon you" she smirked groping my dick though my jeans and then walking off

"You are evil"

"yep" she smiled as the door knocked "Get the door please husband"

"Yes wifey" I sighed going to the door as it was pounding by now, I opened it and almost gulped seeing the gang of tall, muscular, burley, heavily tattooed, leather jacket wearing men with bags and boxes of beer. "Uuuuuhhhh Hello" I smiled

"Y/n?"

"Uhh Yes, that uh that's uhh she's over there" I told them letting them all in,

"Ahhh my boys!" she smiled hugging them each tightly, once they where all inside I shut the door as they opened the first box of beer, My god she's turn my flat into a biker bar.

"y/n? are they going to kill me?" I whispered to her

"Maybe if you piss them off. wouldn't be the first time" she smiled as she walked off to chat with some others

"Wait- what? what do you mean wouldn't be the first time?" I asked her "Y/n? Y/n? Don't leave me alone" I whined following her carefully

"Benny watts are you scared?"

"Yes! this is little the first time in my life I'm NOT the most insane man in the room." I told her "I know I like to stick out but this... this is in a way I don't like"

"Boys?" she called making them all silence and look at us "Don't murder my husband...." she smiled

"That's it?"

"Don't murder my husband... Please?"

some nodded but most just returned to their conversations, their beer's or other such things, Y/n walked off to put some of her records on, and helped out one of the guys with something.

I mostly just sat at the table trying not to get in the way as my apartment was full of these... well biker guys, The smell of cigarette smoke wafting across the air, as well as the smell of beer, motorbike oil, and cannabis. The empty pile of cans and bottles of beer piling high by the door, The rock music blaring, men shouting and swearing at each other. Some guys arm wrestling others betting on it, spilling beer across the side, another group was doing something with vodka shots I wasn't sure, Y/n had helped one guy set up all the cushions on the floor like a bed and he had a little... let's call it improvised tattoo machine and sat cross legged smoking something as he did tattoo's on other guys, often he would pass the cigarette to y/n as she went around gathering empty bottles, checking on various things. as much as it wasn't my scene I loved how... she's kinda the queen of this shit, on anything she had the final word, on beer's, on who won games, everything went though her.

"Come on Baby? where's my sugar?" One guy asked sitting in the leather chair trying to pull her onto his lap

"Oi! hand's off Pete, ladies busy" she argues pushing his hands off her

"Besides, little ladies married now" Another guy spoke up from the table

"Yeah, how'd that little weasel get his hands on my baby?" He smirked more to y/n then anyone else

"Reasons" she smirked winking to me,

"Hey? Watts right?" he asked to me

"Yeah" I nodded

"You party?" he asks offering me a cigarette

"Uhhh no. No thanks"

"Whatever, fun little hubby you got y/n" He smirked pulling her onto his lap

"He's fun" she smirked getting off his lap "sometimes" she smiled as she walked past giving my cheek a kiss

"Y/n? your up" The guy called as he finished up the last guys tattoo

"wait your getting another tattoo?" I asked her

"No just touching up mine" she smiled "You wanna come hold my hand benny?" she whines playfully

"Alright" I smiled holding her hand so she dragged me over she laid on the pillows as this guy looked her tattoo over. He was taller then me, muscular and toned, Tattoo's covering every inch of his body, he was shirtless with only a pair of jeans and some suspenders, he sat cross legged on the cushion as he cleaned his needles and got some ink ready in a little glass dish "Y/n are you sure this is... sanitary on our floor?"

"Our floor's cleaner then the shop I got this done in" she laughs tapping the ottoman so I sat on it and took her hand "I don't really need you, I did it last time with just a lollipop and a foul mouth" she laughs "But... give you practice" she winks

"We good?" He asked her and she nodded and he started, it was only fascinating to see him touching up the colours and lines of her dragon even if at times it felt like she was going to break my hand till he took a break to change the colour or needle I don't know,

"fucking hell" I complain shaking my hand where it had gone numb

"Ohh this is nothing wait till I have a baby"

"Hell no, I'm waiting in the husband room with a paper"

"No your not your going to hold my hand that or stare at the human forcing its way out of me. either way" she smirked

"That is if you have a baby?"

"Like your not gonna get me pregnant" she smiled giving my lips a sweet kiss

"I might" I winked

"You don't I will" That Pete guy smirked

"You're done" The guy told her and she smiled sitting up

"You're turn"

"what? no way!"

"Awww what's the matter benny? You scared?" she smirked "I knew you wouldn't" she giggled as she got up "Guess I have a better pain tolerance then you,"

"I could sit though it y/n. I just don't... want anything"

"I bet you can't"

"I bet I can"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Put your money where your mouth is then watts." she smirked the room going quiet

"Yeah? Okay. If I do it you have to stop this stupid competing." I told her and she seemed shocked "we call the bets off, all of them"

"and what would we do about... everything?"

"I get to give in. and stay married to you. as long as I want"

"Humm found of your wifey now are you watts?" she smirked wrapping her arms around my neck

"I am. no more fighting, No more dares. and you stay my wife" I told her wrapping my arms around her waist

"And if you can't do it? If your chicken out?"

"Then we call our bet off and you win. you can leave me"

"Hummm... Okay" she smiled "But I pick what you get"

"Deal" I sighed

she smirked and pulled me to heavily kiss her, I happily kissed her back tightening my grip on her, I could hear the guys wolf whistling at us till she pulled away "Get cosy Benny" she smirked running to the table getting a bit of paper,

I breathed and laid on the cushions trying to get comfy staring at my celling while my head screamed at me

'Helloo! Earth to benny's rational mind what the fuck are we doing! why do we agree to this! She's gonna tattoo a dick on me isn't she?'

"You done this before?" The guy asked me

"Nope"

"I aint gonna lie to ya man, It's gonna fuckin' hurt"

"Yeah... I know"

"Ankle, under 15." y/n smiled handing this guy a bit of paper but I didn't see what it was on it "Get him on the bone"

"You're intentionally making this hurt aren't you?"

"Ohh relax benny, My first tattoo was my ankle"

"It was? so... it's an easy first place then?" I asked as she came over getting comfy with me

"Ohhh noo. I screamed" she smirked rubbing on my shoulders

"Thanks."

"don't move. Or It'll take longer. and hurt more" he told me

"Great" I sighed

"Ohh relax I'm not that evil to you benny"

".... we got married out of spite of course your fucking evil to me" I said starting to panic as he moved my jeans up 'ohh fuck oh fuck this is getting real, this is getting real, it's not to late I can get out of this'

"Yeah," she laughs giving me a cuddle "I hate you"

"I hate you too" I told her and as I did I felt the scratchy pain across my ankle "ahhh fuck!"

I blocked it out or at least tried to, Mostly just laid there with my hands over my eyes narwing on the inside of my mouth as y/n cuddled me and sometimes gave me kisses often going here and there to do other things as people began to leave to head home every so often i felt him drag something across my skin wiping away

"what uhhh what are you wiping?" I asked trying to focus on something other then the pain

"Ink." He says "and blood"

"I shouldn't have asked" I sighed

"Almost done" He says

"Is it normal to feel sick?"

"You're probably just low on sugar" Y/n laughs "You should have eaten something"

"Yeah well... waiting for my wife to make me dinner"

"Make him his dinner y/n" Pete Laughed as he had now came close to watch my pain sitting on the rug even if I did notice him ever so often ogling y/n

"Benny make y/n her dinner" Y/n giggled

"I would by my wife insisted I get my ankle amputated" I sighed

"Ohh grow up your getting a single line tattoo under fifteen centimetres. Not like I made you get my dragon" she laughs

"How long did your dragon take?"

"six hours in two three hour blocks one for line work and one for colouring" The guy smirked as he worked

"How much did that cost?" I asked

"Two crates of beer, fifty bucks and a free fuck with my friend Lina" she laughs

"How much is this?" I asked

"The beer and the cigarette I've had tonight" He shrugs "And your done"

"I'm done?"

"All finished man. you feel alright?" he asks as I sat up

"I feel like I'm going to faint or hurl"

"Go lay down benny," y/n smiled helping me up even if I couldn't put weight on my ankle instantly falling into her arms "whoa. Okay to bed Mr watts right now" she laughs helping me to our room and instantly she tucked me into bed "You get some rest okay sleep tight" she smiles kissing my head before going back to the living room leaving the door open a crack

"Back in a sec y/n I gotta clean up" The tattoo guy said as he headed to the bathroom

"Sure dan" she waves

'ooohh so that's dan"

I tried not to focus on the aching and throbbing pain on my ankle trying to get to sleep

"so? can I have a little sugar now baby?" Pete asked

"Pete knock it off. How many times I'm not into that anymore"

"what? seriously? but your my little biker baby?"

"Yeah well Not anymore"

"What? Because you got married in Vegas your actually going though with this shit? you got drunk and hooked up so what divorce him and lets get back to our sugar?"

"Pete, Look I'm serious. I'm married now"

"You can't really be staying with this little weasel"

"I am." she smiled "I Like being a wife, I like a lot of things about it but... I'm happy,"

I smiled a little and quickly fell asleep.

I groaned as I woke up my ankle still aching but I felt y/n cuddled up with me "Ummm good morning wifey" I smirked holding her close

"Ummmm hello Husband" she smiled cuddling me tighter "How are you feeling?"

"Better, now I have you"

"Yeah me too" she smiled kissing me softly I smirked and pulled her closer kissing her back being careful of her fresh tattoo

"so... we're married. and not looking for a divorce."

"Nope. Unless you like.. I don't know cheat on me or anything like that" she laughs "but other then that. I'm happy"

"Yeah, I'm happy too y/n" I smiled "We're happily married my darling"

"Very happy" she smiled "coffee?"

"Yes please my sweet wife" I told her and she smiled getting up and tugging me along with her, to the kitchen, I smiled wrapping my arms around her nuzzling into her neck as she made coffee, "We're really... not competing anymore? you're happy to stay married to me?"

"Very happy benny," she smiled turning to give me a kiss "For as long as you are"

"I heard... you and pete last night?"

"Did you now?"

"did you and him?"

"Once. Yeah, well you heard last night don't you trust me?"

"I trust you, Even if I hate you"

"Yeah I hate you too" she laughs "Do you like it?" she asks as she turned to face me

"Like what?"

"You're ankle?"

"Ohh. I haven't really seen it yet"

"Come on then" she giggled excitedly dragging me over to the Livingroom sitting her little mirror on the table and angling it down so I could see my ankle I was a little worried what I now Had permanently on me but I was pleasantly surprised,

The careful and beautiful linework of the outline  of the king piece

"oooohh... I like that actually"  I smirked rather impressed with it even if it was rather red,

"See. trust me" she giggled

"It's beautiful darling, I really like it"

"Good, I thought you would" she smiled moving a little closer standing beside me and I could see in the mirror as she got closer she had a fresh tattoo on her ankle too a tattoo in the same style in the same place on her ankle but of a queen piece so as we stood together they matched

"when-"

"after you went to sleep, before Dan left"

"I love it even more now, it's amazing my darling"

"Ummm" she smiled hugging me tightly nuzzling her head into my chest "I love you"

I was in shock, my heart beating quickly, I relaxed a little and hugged her tightly pulling her as close as I could "I love you too"

I smirked as we arrived at lukes my arm around y/n my hand on her butt though her coat

"Hey! you guys are togethere and aren't murdering each other? this is a rareity" Luke laughed letting us in leading us into the poker room where everyone else was already waiting

"Hi everyone" she smiled

"Hey" I waved as we got to the last two seats next to each other, I slipped my jacket and hat off  

"Drinks?" Luke asked

"Just a cola please Luke" she smiled

"Me too" I told him

"This is... weird" Luke said getting them from his little fridge "But come on you two know the rules"

"Course. You look beautiful y/n"

"Awww thank you benny, you look very handsome too" she smiled I happily kissed her giving her lips a sweet intense kiss

"What- What the hell is going on?" Luke asked as everyone was confused

"You go on wifey" I winked slapping her butt as I sat down she smiled widely and showed off her nice diamond ring,  and wedding ring. everyone looked impressed and shocked so I smirked and showed off my own with my signet ring

"You- You two are... fucking married now?" He asked

"Yep happily married" she smiled slipping her coat off putting it on the chair

"Yes! I knew it!" Mark laughed from across the table "the second y/n wasn't drinking I knew it"

"Yeah, Four months now right?"

"Four and a half" she smiled as she sat down and took my hand "I love you" she smiled nuzzling into my shoulder as Luke dealt the cards

"I love you too" I smirked giving her a kiss

"This is the most insane thing I've seen in my life. But I knew you two loved each other really" Luke laughed.

[clumsyclifford]

I'll drive you to the hospital. with my boys lashton maybe? love you!! -fiancee

you know i think it says a lot about me that i could have easily made this very angsty but instead i made the active decision not to. this is growth

(tw for a bit of blood)

read on ao3

-

Things that are a good idea: universal healthcare, holding hands on cold days, turning off lights when leaving a room.

Things that are not a good idea: Luke Hemmings attempting to cook dinner on his own with no supervision.

The lack of supervision is his own insistence. When he’d first offered to make dinner, Ashton had very unsubtly indicated that he didn’t think Luke should take that on alone.

(“I’m not sure you should take that on alone,” he’d said. Luke doesn’t care for paraphrasing.)

Luke, however, had persisted. Now, standing in the kitchen with a Very Large Knife in one hand and a cutting board on the counter in front of him, he’s starting to regret this somewhat.

Most of the dinner had been fairly simple. Luke had successful boiled water — the right amount of water — and now the spaghetti is happily cooking away in the pot. Phase one of the meal is smoothly underway. It’s just phase two that’s a problem.

Luke is not good with knives.

He knows this about himself. Ashton knows this about him. His entire family knows it about him. Luke has a bad history with knives. Namely, he tends to injure himself whenever one ends up in his possession. Never intentionally. He’s just clumsy, okay? And clumsy plus knives has never equalled safety. 

However. There comes a time in every man’s life in which he must learn to master a knife. Luke is not going to die unable to use a knife. He is going to cut this cucumber, god damn it, and then he will peel and cut the carrots, and in short he will be unstoppable. He and Ashton will have a delicious, healthy salad tonight. If it kills Luke.

Which. Like. Hopefully it won’t. Ideally it will not even lightly maim Luke. But with this overdose of optimism must come a healthy shot of realism.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Luke says, pushing up his sleeves. On second thought, he pulls off the flannel entirely, tossing it across the room so it lands on the tabletop. “You and me, cucumber. I’m not scared of you. I’m talking to you like you can hear me, which makes me sound insane, but that doesn’t scare me either.”

“Luke?” Ashton pokes his head into the kitchen. “Doing okay?”

“If you check on me one more time, I will commit violent acts with this large knife,” Luke says, pointing the knife threateningly in Ashton’s direction.

Ashton frowns deeply. “Can you blame me?”

“Have some trust,” Luke says.

“ Have some trust,’ he says.” Ashton snorts. “Show me you can use a standard kitchen knife without damaging yourself and I will.”

“I’m not going to die. It’s just a cucumber.”

“Mhm.” Ashton crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Go on, then.”

Luke glares at Ashton. “Get out! I’m working here.”

Ashton sighs heavily. “Fine. But if you need—”

“Out!”

Ashton stalks away, probably to go eavesdrop or read cooking blogs and think about how much better he is in the kitchen than Luke. 

“Okay,” Luke mutters, lining up the knife. “Here we go. Control. Precision. Focus. Olympic fucking figure skater levels.”

He probably sets a record for slowest, most painstaking process of cutting a cucumber ever. But somehow, miraculously, all body parts come out intact on the other side.

Luke whoops. “Fuck yeah! That’s how it’s done!” He points the knife at the cucumber, now in pieces on the cutting board. “I am the captain now!”

This is good. No, this is great. Luke is confident as he slides the cucumbers to the side to make space for the carrots. For the first time in Luke’s memory, he’s bested the knife. He is no longer at the mercy of a culinary tool slash impromptu weapon. 

He never saw the peeler coming.

Nobody warns you about the peeler. There are no cautionary tales about children with peelers. No movies where the bad guy improvises a weapon with a peeler found in a drawer. So, really, Luke thinks this is an honest mistake.

This, unfortunately, does not help his current situation.

“Fuck! Motherfucker, are you fucking kidding me?”

“Luke?” Ashton rushes in like he’s got a fucking radar for Luke Fucking Up. Luke drops the peeler to the counter and gathers the fingers of his left hand with his right. The blade of the peeler had nicked him right over the knuckle of his thumb, and the blood is running down his finger thanks to the juice from the carrot. It stings like a bitch, although it definitely looks worse than it is. This is the only reason Luke can find for Ashton’s eyes going wide and his next words being, “Oh my fucking god, Luke. Are you okay? What happened?”

“I just cut myself—”

“I’ll drive you to the hospital, you can worry about dinner another night, I fucking told you—”

“Relax, Ashton, it’s not that bad,” Luke says, sidestepping him to get to the sink. He hisses as the cold water runs over the injury, but once the blood rinses away it’s obvious this is not more than a shallow cut. “Just a flesh wound.”

“This is not funny.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Luke promises, bending his thumb and extending it under the faucet. “The fucking peeler got me, that’s all.”

“Did you peel towards you?”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Towards,” Ashton says, holding up the peeler and miming a peeling action towards his body. “Rather than away.” He flips the peeler around and does the reverse action.

“Ah,” Luke says. “Yeah, then.” He smiles sheepishly. “Oops? Lesson learned.”

“You don’t have to be so, like…prideful, or whatever, you know,” Ashton says, bringing the peeler over to the sink. Luke takes it from his hands and runs it under the water, rinsing the blade. “Nobody expects you to be able to make a whole meal with as little experience as you have, least of all me. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help.”

“I think it’s fucking ridiculous that I can’t cook a simple dinner,” Luke counters. “And I can. I’ve just hit a snag.”

“Please let me help you,” Ashton begs. “I won’t be condescending or anything.”

“I know you won’t.”

“So then what’s the problem? Dignity or something?”

“I just— I don’t know.” Luke chews his lip and reaches to turn off the faucet. His finger still hurts, so he tears a paper towel and wraps it around his knuckle. “You’d be judging me for everything I don’t know.”

“I am not judging you, Luke, I promise,” Ashton says gently. “I get it. It’s not a skill you’re born with, it’s something you have to learn. But I don’t think hurting yourself is the way to learn.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Luke grumbles.

Ashton takes another paper towel and hands it to Luke, and Luke stares at it for a moment before sighing and accepting it. “That’s my point,” Ashton says. “It was just a mistake because you didn’t know better. You don’t have to make the mistake to learn from it, you know. Other people have made the mistake. People like me. You think I didn’t cut myself the first time I tried to peel a potato? You’re supposed to learn from other people’s mistakes, too.”

Luke takes a deep breath. “It’s just cooking,” he says. “Not that deep.” 

“If it’s not that deep, then please let me help you,” Ashton says. “Teamwork. It’ll go faster this way.”

The paper towel in Luke’s hand is damp now, and the one around his thumb is stained red. A timer goes off. 

“That’s the pasta,” Luke says. He sighs. “Fine, you can help. Deal with the pasta. It has to have sauce on it. I think. I’m sure you’ll know what to do.” He lifts his hand. “I’m going to get a plaster.”

“You didn’t bleed on any of the food, did you?”

Luke shakes his head. “Be right back.”

Ashton nods and smiles. “Sorry for being pushy,” he says. “But I really just don’t want you to make the dumb kitchen mistakes I made.”

“I know,” Luke says, and even smiles back. “Sorry for being stupid and stubborn.”

“Ah, we all have flaws,” Ashton says, ruffling Luke’s hair. “I wouldn’t love you if you weren’t stupid and stubborn.”

“Personally, I wouldn’t mind if you weren’t so pushy,” Luke says, laughing over Ashton’s loud mock-offended gasp and scurrying out of the kitchen to Ashton calling rude things to his back.