#tall kitchen pantry cabinet

[zor-zor]

Pantry - Kitchen Inspiration for a small timeless l-shaped light wood floor kitchen pantry remodel with a single-bowl sink, shaker cabinets, blue cabinets, quartz countertops, white backsplash, stainless steel appliances and an island

[general-cheezits]

Jacksonville Beach Style Dining Room

[mildlyinterestingadventures]

Kitchen Dining

[stylesloveclub]

sunshine (part 3)

In which y/n just wants to get this whole virginity thing out of the way, and Harry needs to grovel a bit before she forgives him.

warnings: nonconsensual advances/kissing when drunk!!!

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Y/n is drunk. 

She doesn’t know who’s apartment she’s in, or what the drink in her cup is. She also doesn’t know where Maddie is, or how she’s going to get home tonight. All she knows is that she’s sad and drunk, standing alone in some random kitchen while a party goes on on the other side of the door.

It had been Maddie’s idea to take y/n out partying tonight. She saw y/n’s tear stained cheeks as soon as she walked through the door, and had immediately coaxed her sad roommate into her arms. “What’s wrong?” she’d asked y/n, pulling back and staring into y/n’s teary eyes. “Why didn’t you call me to pick you up?”

Y/n didn’t want to talk about it. She was too embarrassed to admit what happened, cringing everytime she remembered the way her heart broke when Harry laughed at her. She just wanted to forget about it. 

Maddie’s solution was going out and drinking. Y/n hesitantly agreed, as her other option would have been to lay in bed and cry, and that just seemed really sad and pathetic.

Now that she’s here though, her bed sounds a lot better than this party.

She’d taken three shots with Maddie and had been feeling fine for the first 15 minutes she was there – but then Maddie had been whipped away by a group of her friends, and y/n was left alone. The shots started to get to her, making her wobbly on her feet, and her head started to hurt from the flashing lights and pounding music. 

This really wasn’t her scene, and it didn’t help that she was all alone. 

She stumbled over to the makeshift bar looking for a drink, preferably water. But apparently there was no water anywhere in this college apartment, so she’d been given some spiked lemonade instead by some shirtless frat guy who had appointed himself as this party’s bartender. 

This was a terrible idea.

She just needed somewhere quiet to be sad! She hates having to walk past all the groups of people crammed into this living room. It’s hot and stuffy here and she feels dizzy and her eyes are dry from how much she cried before she got here. Someone steps on her foot, which makes her stumble sideways, and then she bumps into some tall girl who glares at her meanly and it makes y/n feel horrible and miserable and stressed out. 

She spends 10 minutes looking for Maddie, and though she fails to find her roommate, she does find an empty, quiet kitchen. She huffs out a sigh of relief. 

Finally, some peace and quiet. 

With her watered down, kinda gross, alcoholic lemonade in hand, she hops onto the kitchen countertop and swings her legs sadly. As hard as she may try, she is not a party girl at heart. She always ends up wanting to leave, and she always ends up feeling kinda lonely. 

And (honestly) she does not enjoy being drunk that much. It makes her wobbly and extra emotional. And it also makes her tummy turn a little bit. And her head is starting to pound on top of the way it’s spinning. 

She closes her eyes and leans her head back against the cabinets. She would give anything to just be back in her room with her books.

Someone bursts into the kitchen, and it makes y/n open her eyes with a startled jump. She stares at the person awkwardly as they totally walk past her, completely unaware that y/n was even in the kitchen at all. 

The kitchen newcomer is someone that she vaguely recognizes as one of Maddie’s friends – Jared, maybe? – she briefly wonders if he might know where her roommate is. 

Jared walks to the pantry and rummages through, retrieving a bag of BBQ chips which he pops open and starts devouring. The way he crunches and munches on the chips makes y/n cringe, but she says nothing and just sips her drink quietly. She hopes she can just go unnoticed…

Jared opens the fridge and the refrigerator light fills the dark kitchen, illuminating y/n’s silhouette. Jared finally notices her. 

“Yo…” he says, eyeing her up and down. “Y/n, right?”

She nods awkwardly, sipping her drink again. She’s gonna drink herself to oblivion simply because of all these nervous sips. 

“What’s up!” he says enthusiastically, putting the bag of chips down and wiping his crumby hands on his pants. 

“Um, nothing much,” she squeaks out. “Do you– do you know where Maddie is?” 

“Oh yeah, I was just with her outside! We got the munchies so m’getting us some snacks.” Y/n nods. At least she knows where Maddie is now. “What’re you doing in here all alone?” Jared asks. 

“I’m— um. Just wanted some quiet time, I guess.” She chews on the inside of her mouth nervously. 

“I was surprised when Maddie said you were here today…” Jared takes a step forward, standing right in front of her knees, “we don’t get to see you enough. You’re always hiding when we come over.”

She chuckles nervously. Another sip from her drink, no matter how gross it tastes.

Jared reaches a hand out to rest on y/n’s thigh. Her eyes bulge out of her head, her drunk head a little too woozy to comprehend what’s going on. His hand feels sweaty and invasive, unlike Harry’s… who felt warm and soft. 

Ugh. Harry. Stupid Harry. She pushes him out of her mind.

“You should hang out with us more…” Jared continues, using his hand to spread her legs so that he can step between them. Y/n, loose limbed and sluggish from the drinks, just lets it happen. It’s weird and kind of uncomfortable… but she has yet to formulate a true reaction. “I think we’d vibe…”

I think we’d vibe? Is that boy code for something? She blinks at Jared with tired eyes. She really just wants to be in her bed right now. 

“Can I kiss you?” Jared asks. Huh??? The confusion on y/n’s face must be apparent, because he chuckles and bites his lip. He has this weird look in his eyes that y/n thinks is supposed to be sultry but just makes him look kind of dumb. “Come on… it’d be fun.”

“Umm…” y/n is so confused. She hadn’t realized that this is where her conversation with Jared had been going, but now she feels like it’s obvious. His hands on her legs and then I think we’d vibe. This was Jared… making a move?

Normally, y/n would be repulsed at the thought of it. This would be nothing more than a drunk hookup with someone she doesn’t know or trust. She’d never do that! She’d push him away, and walk straight out of the kitchen without a second thought, because Jared is gross and y/n has standards. 

But that was old, romantic y/n. Present y/n is different.

“Ok,” she says simply. How bad could it be? It’s not like she’s saving her first kiss for someone special anymore. And maybe this time, she won’t bring up the fact that she’s a virgin! She’ll just go all the way, get it over with, and then nobody will be able to laugh at her–

Jared’s hot, wet lips make contact with y/n’s mouth. He tastes like barbeque chips and beer. His tongue immediately forces its way past her lips, licking into her mouth, and his hands unceremoniously migrate from her legs to her ass. He’s not gentle as he starts groping her ass, and y/n’s eyebrows furrow together uncomfortably. 

She tries to reciprocate the kiss – it had been so easy when it was with Harry! – but Jared kisses like a fish, his mouth agape while he sucks on her lips uncomfortably. His lips feel hard and tense, unlike Harry’s gentle kiss and soft, pink, candy lips. He groans as if he’s turned on and grinds his dick against y/n’s center.

Y/n can’t take it anymore. She pulls her lips off of Jared, too grossed out to even pretend to be into this kiss. Her mouth feels like it was invaded, and she’s realizing that her drunk brain has made a terrible lapse in judgment.

There was no way she’d be able to hook up with this guy, let alone kiss him for any longer! She was insane for even considering losing her virginity to some random guy. That’s just not her. She’s not random or spontaneous… she’s nervous and insecure and needs to feel loved and cherished when her first time comes around. Not … used and gross, the way she’s feeling now. And definitely not when she’s too out of it to even walk straight. 

She massively is starting to regret kissing Jared, and uses her hands to push him off.

“Um… I don’t–” Jared starts kissing down her neck, and y/n shrugs away. His kisses feel like a slobbery pitbull drooling all over her throat. “Let’s stop,” she says.

Jared either doesn’t hear her or just ignores her, now dry humping y/n. It feels gross and prepubescent, little ruts of this guy's dick against her most intimate region. When Harry had done it, it had been welcome. It had been Harry! The cute guy who would come sit in her room when there’s a party going on and would help her with math! But this is so… gross. She barely even knows this guy, and he’s making her feel yucky and wrong and uncomfortable.

She hates this – all of it – and tries to close her legs, but Jared’s hips are still between her thighs so she can’t. Her stomach is rolling, the aftertaste of Jared’s barbeque flavored tongue sitting in her mouth, and she’s feeling overwhelmed. “Stop,” she mumbles again, her hands pushing harder on his shoulders. 

“Hm, why?” Jared whispers, coming back up to kiss the corner of her mouth. She can smell the alcohol on his gross, hot breath, and she turns her head to the side, dodging him. 

“I don’t– I’m not–” she stammers over her words. Her cheeks are turning hot and she’s squeezing her eyes shut to try and regain composure. Jared is licking her earlobe now, and it feels horrible. She pushes harder. 

Neither of them hear Harry entering the kitchen.

He’d been lingering around the apartment quietly, the way he usually does at parties. His friends had noticed that he’s in a particularly bad mood tonight for some reason – but Harry doesn’t say anything about it. He just sulked quietly among the groups of people. 

Maddie had stomped her way over to him at some point that night, and grilled him for why y/n had come over so upset that day. “Harry!” she huffed, “What’d you do? Did you make y/n cry?”

His frown deepened, “She was crying?” 

“Yes!” Maddie blows her hair out of her face. “She was all sad and mopey. I brought her here for a good time but she was still pouty after, like, three shots. I thought you were helping her with math, what happened?” 

“She’s here?” Harry turns alert. He sits up, his brows furrowed in his grumpy way, a hint of concern in his eyes. “Where?”

Maddie shrugs. “I dunno. I lost her like an hour ago.”

He was up and searching for her immediately. He checked the bathrooms and all the empty rooms, walked around the apartment with attentive eyes, checked within the huddles of people to see if y/n was hanging around them. 

His last hope was the kitchen – but even then, it didn’t seem like she was in there. Just a couple making out, something that he didn’t want to impose on. He was just about to leave, when he heard the smallest, familiar voice, squeaking out stop. He looks a little closer. 

His heart stops when he realizes it’s y/n. 

“What are you doing?” Harry quickly steps forward, tugging Jared off of y/n.

Y/n snaps her legs shut now that Jared has been removed from between her thighs, while Jared turns around to face Harry with his hands in the air. “What the fuck, man?” Jared spits out.

“She said stop,” Harry fumes, taking a protective step in front of y/n. 

“Bro, fuck off, it’s none of your business–” he tries to reach a hand towards y/n, but Harry blocks him. “Do you know this guy?” Jared asks y/n.

She gives a disgruntled nod. She’s half thankful to see him because he interrupted that awful kiss with Jared, but the other half is sad and embarrassed and filled with the insecurity she felt when she’d left Harry’s apartment. When he’d kissed her and then laughed at her. 

“Get out,” Harry grunts to Jared, nodding his head to the door. His eyes are dark and mean, and even in the low light of the kitchen, Jared can tell that Harry is not the guy to mess with. 

“Whatever,” Jared scoffs, leaving the kitchen.

Harry turns around. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.

Y/n ignores him, hopping off the kitchen counter. Her left foot, however, has fallen asleep and twists underneath her weight painfully when she lands on the ground. Harry reflexively wraps his hand around her waist so that she doesn’t fall, and pulls her into his chest. 

“Hey, hey–” she tries to regain her footing, but this time the drinks in her system make her wobble side to side. Harry’s grip on her tightens, “Stop.” 

“Let go,” she whines, wriggling in his hold, “I don’t want to talk to you.” 

He lets go when she asks, not wanting her to feel scared or uncomfortable since she looks so out of it, but stands in front of her firmly, eyebrows furrowed. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” she sniffles.

“Who’s taking you?” he asks again, taking a step to the side to block her when she tries to walk around him.

She’s silent for a second, trying to figure out her options. “I’ll walk,” she decides.

He lets out an exasperated breath. “Y’can’t walk home right now.” She’s way too out of it, and it’s probably over a 30 minute walk. “Let me drive you.” 

“No,” she pouts, trying to brush past him again. “I’m not talking to you.” 

“M’sorry,” he sighs, “M’sorry for making you upset, I-I didn’t mean to.” He’d been confused when she’d left him so abruptly (he’d still been catching his breath and calming his heart from that kiss when she ran off), and dismayed when he found out he’d made her cry. His eyes are earnest and pleading, “please let me drive you home.”

She wipes her eyes, a few sad tears hanging on her lashes that she refuses to let fall. “Fine.”

But only because it’s cold outside and her head hurts and she’s too scared to walk home at night.

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“Are you cold?”

Y/n ignores Harry, staring out of the passenger’s side window while they’re stopped at a red light. 

“Y/n?”

Still no response. He sighs frustratedly. She’s obviously cold, with goosebumps on her skin and shivering in her seat. He reaches to the back seat and grabs one of his sweaters that he’d worn to class earlier, throwing it in her lap. “You can’t just ignore me all night.”

Y/n swallows thickly, eyeing the sweater in her lap, but refuses to put it on no matter how cold she is. “I’m fine.”

Harry looks over to her. She’s clearly not fine. 

Her voice sounds strained and teary, and he can practically feel the lump in her throat. She’s on the verge of tears, sitting in his car with glossy eyes, chewing the inside of her lip, a habit he’s noticed she only does when she’s sad or anxious. 

“Tell me what I did wrong, please. Talk to me.”

The first tear falls from her lashes. She’d done so good, holding in her emotions all night, not crying even though she was drunk and miserable! 

But Harry sounds so earnest and desperate. She wants to trust him, wants to revel in the comfort she only feels in his presence. But she can’t stop replaying the way he laughed at her in her head. 

“Please,” he begs. 

Her resolved crumbles. “You– you laughed at me,” She takes a shuddery breath, trying not to start sobbing. “When I told you I was a virgin. You thought it was funny.” 

Realization dawns on him, “oh, sunshine…”

“But it’s not funny. It’s normal!,” she continues, “ Like, I-I just want it to mean a lot.. I need it to be with someone I like, someone I trust. I can’t do casual, I’m-I’m not like that.” She wipes her tears away furiously, “and you laughed at me when I told you that!” 

“I wasn’t laughing at you!” he says desperately, but she huffs and rolls her eyes. The tears are falling freely at this point and he’s dying to wipe them away. He’s annoyed that the light turns green, forcing himself to look at the road and keep his hands on the wheel when all he wants is to hold y/n’s hands. “I-I get it, I’m sorry, that was dickish of me to laugh, but I wasn’t laughing at you!”

“Yes you were,” she grumbles petulantly, “You literally laughed in my face.” 

“No,” They pull up to a stop sign and he glances over at her, “I was just… surprised! Cos you know… I just didn’t expect it. You’re cute and nice and I just… I was surprised. I thought you were just, like, playing a joke on me.” 

“Well, I wasn’t,” she huffs in her seat, crossing her arms angrily and staring out the window again.

“I-I’m sorry,” he says again. He looks over at her sadly, his heart aching. He wants it all to be right again, he can’t handle having her cry. “I get it… wanting to wait for someone special. I wouldn’t laugh at that– I think trust is the most important part.”

She sniffles, but stays quiet. 

It’s a few minutes later when she sadly squeaks out, “you were my first kiss, too.” 

Harry’s heart breaks in his chest. He doesn’t know how he’s gonna fix this.

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He parks in front of her apartment building when they get there, and rushes out of his seat to open y/n’s door for her. 

He tries to help her get out, offering his hand like a gentleman, but she refuses him and hops out of the car all by herself. She struggles to stay upright, though, desperately holding herself up with the car door as she stumbles, still pretty drunk and discombobulated. 

At some point during the car ride she decided to suck it up and put on Harry’s sweatshirt. Not because it was comforting and smelt like him. Just because it was cold outside. 

He follows behind her as she stomps up the stairs to her apartment door, and stands patiently for the next three minutes as she fumbles with her keys, trying to fit them in the lock. When she (as he expected) fails to open the door, she angrily shoves the keys into his hands and stands off to the side with crossed arms. 

He doesn’t find himself offended by her grumpy behavior. He deserves it, he supposes. Plus, it’s not that hard to deal with her angry huffs and little stomps and furrowed eyebrows. 

She’s a much cuter grump than he is, that’s for sure.

He unlocks the door for her and holds it open, and she beelines for her bathroom. She needs to brush her teeth immediately or else she might throw up from that horrible kiss. And her mascara is getting all clumpy and making her eyes sting. 

Harry goes to her kitchen, grabbing a pack of Advil that’s just sitting on the counter after filling up a glass of water for y/n from the Brita in the fridge. He hears a loud bang and a whiny owwwww from y/n’s bathroom, and chuckles to himself. She’s like a little clumsy baby deer. 

He remembers the last time, how many times she’d stumbled over herself, how many times she’d almost tripped and landed on her face. How he’d accidentally walked in on her changing last time. How sweet and soft she looked, tucked into her bed with her little stuffed bunny. 

He shakes his head to himself. He undoubtedly has a soft spot for her. She’s wriggled her way into his heart and melted him into a heart shaped puddle. He… he doesn’t ever want to see her cry again. He just wants to hold her, keep her safe, tuck her inside of his pocket and make sure she’s happy forever and ever. 

She’s sunshine. She doesn’t deserve to be sad.

This time, he knocks before he lets himself into her room, giving her ten seconds to compose herself before peeking his head in. His eyebrows crinkle when his eyes land on y/n.

“Why’re you on the floor?” he asks, quickly putting the water and tiny red painkiller on her bedside table.

“I dropped my earring,” she pouts, not looking up at him. She’s on her knees, patting around herself and desperately searching for the butterfly shaped studs she’d been wearing that night. She sounds like she’s about to burst into tears, “I-I can’t find it.” 

Harry sees it glimmering behind her. He kneels down next to her and picks it up, holding it in front of her face. “This?” Her wide eyes glimmer as she nods, taking it from him and walking on her knees all the way over to her desk to put it in her little heart shaped jewelry dish. 

She’s already nicely dressed in her pj’s (a fuzzy pair of pink pants paired with a tank top so that she wouldn’t overheat tonight) and she’s finished her drunk girl night routine (no skin care – just a makeup wipe and messily brushing her teeth), exhausted and ready for bed. 

Harry holds out a hand to help her up from the floor. This time, she doesn’t resist. She’s tuckered out, too sleepy to maintain this grudge. All she wants is her bed.

Harry’s hand feels warm as her smaller hand wraps around his palm, and she lets herself be pulled up by him and guided to her bed. He lifts up her blankets for her and uses a steady hand on her hip to ensure that she doesn’t fall sideways while she climbs into her bed. He tucks her in, pulling her duvet up to her chest, and without her having to ask, he picks up the little stuffed bunny who lays sadly at the foot of her bed. 

She watches him with round eyes as he kneels down next to her bed, tucking the little bunny in right next to her. Her skin looks soft and dewy, her hair framing her face in delicate wisps. She stares at Harry with wide, unwavering eyes, still glossy and red-rimmed from all the tears she shed today. 

He hates himself for being the cause of them. It takes everything in him not to lean forward, brush the hair out of her face, and kiss her sad, pouted lips. 

 “All good?” he asks instead.

Her fingers wrap around her stuffed animal gently, and she gives a shy nod. 

He smiles, “Okay.” His eyes are soft and caring, a wonderful contrast to the last time he tucked her into bed, when he’d been so gruff and stoic. Y/n has always found herself easily distracted by his pretty green eyes. They used to be so dark and mysterious, back before he’d started tutoring her. Before he’d kissed her. But now, there’s a glimmer in them that makes her feel warm. 

There’s just a certain softness to him tonight… one that she hasn’t ever witnessed. Her heart glows in her chest when his hand reaches out to rest on her arm gently. She loves the way his palm feels on her skin, loves looking into his eyes and seeing him stare right back at her. He gives her arm a soft, reassuring squeeze, and starts to stand up. 

Y/n takes a sudden breath. “Harry?” she quietly calls out his name. 

“Hm?” He pauses immediately. His name sounds wonderful falling from her lips. He wants to hear it over and over again. 

“Can… can you stay?” Her fingers twist around the bunny’s ears nervously. “Just for a little bit.”

He’s frozen for a second. She bites the inside of her lip nervously. She knows that he cares – she can feel it – but still, she braces herself for the sting of rejection. 

“Yeah.” He sits himself down on her bed, and finally lets himself brush her hair out of her face. “I can stay,” he murmurs. 

She exhales softly, a puff of relief floating in the air in front of her. Her eyelashes flutter shut as his fingers softly graze her forehead, then down to trace the apple of her cheek. He smiles as she nuzzles her face closer to his hand, silently asking for more affection. Like a little kitten, he thinks as he cups her cheek with his palm, petting her softly and smoothing her hair back. 

She smiles contentedly to herself. She can’t even remember why she’d been so insistent on refusing Harry’s help tonight, why she’d ignored him in the car and fought his offers to drive her home. 

This moment… it’s perfect. She could stay here with Harry forever. She snuggles into her duvet and pulls her bunny closer to her chest.

Harry stays there, petting her hair and staring at her sweetly, until her breathing evens out and the smile slowly fades from her face. 

That night, y/n dreams of curly brown hair and green eyes. Visions of warm hands and gentle touches cloud her mind, with flashes of sweet words and the name sunshine falling from rosy pink lips. 

She also dreams of a soft kiss being pressed to her cheek, and the feeling of chocolate curls brushing against her face while a deep voice murmurs goodnight against her skin. 

That part wasn’t 100% just a dream, though. 

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A vanilla iced latte with oat milk is gently placed in y/n’s line of vision, just a few inches away from where she’s tapping her apple pen against the library desk. She looks up, confused. 

The latte bringer is Harry, his pretty curls covered by a beanie. 

 “I saw you studying.” His green eyes glimmer as he swipes his finger across his nose. “Thought you might want a treat. To keep you motivated.” 

“Oh…” she puts down her pencil, and sits up a bit straighter. “Thanks,” she smiles nervously.

He nods. The air is tense. They haven’t seen each other in a few days, the last time being when he brought her home and stayed in her room until she fell asleep. She’d woken up alone, with only the remnants of his boyish scent lingering on her sheets… but her heart had felt full. 

She remembers him apologizing, and she remembers his earnest eyes and how he’d begged her to tell him what he did wrong so he could make it right. And she, of course, remembers how he’d tucked her into bed, and how his hand had cupped her cheek.

But, even despite his kind eyes and peace-treaty latte, she still feels nervous around him – especially now that she’s stone cold sober. Drunk y/n had been perfectly fine leaving everything in the past and snuggling into Harry’s touch, but sober y/n is obviously an overthinker. 

How was she supposed to act, when Harry had given her the best first kiss ever and also made her cry for hours straight right after? What was she supposed to say, when he’d rescued her from her failed attempt of a casual hook up and then driven her home and tucked her into bed with her stuffed bunny?

“Do you want to sit?” she asks. 

He nods, immediately taking a seat next to her. She takes a sip of her latte, and it’s perfect. It’s exactly what she would’ve ordered for herself. 

“Your midterm is tomorrow, isn’t it?” Harry fidgets in his seat, nervously using his thumb to pinch at the skin of his pointer finger.

She nods. “M’nervous.” The past five hours have been spent at the library, doing more practice problems. 

“You studied really hard. I think you’ll do well.” She must’ve finished all the problems in the textbook by now, Harry thinks. Y/n shrugs in her seat, looking down at her latte discouragedly. “I mean it,” Harry emphasizes, ducking his head down to catch her eye.

“I’m just worried I’ll make some stupid mistakes. Or that I’ll blank and forget the trig rules.”

“Don’t psych yourself out,” he says. His hand moves forward, as if he wants to reach for her hand, but he holds himself back and just rests it on the table. “You’ll overthink it and start freaking out. Just pretend like you’re doing more practice problems instead of a test. You were doing fine when we were studying together last week.” 

They both pause, remembering that study session. The one that ended in a kiss and tears. 

Harry clears his throat uncomfortably. Y/n takes a sip from her latte. 

Neither of them acknowledge the awkward incident. 

“Just imagine you’re in my room doing problems again. Don’t stress out too much. You’ve got this.”

She nods, sighing heavily. Harry watches her fingers as she fiddles with a ring that she’s wearing on her middle finger. 

“Thanks for driving me home, by the way,” she peeps. “The other night.” 

He nods, “of course.” She’s opened the floodgates, finally acknowledging the elephant in the room. The magnificent kiss, y/n running away, Harry finding her at the party, driving her home, then staying with her until she fell asleep. “Do you… do you remember anything that happened that night? After the party?” 

She doesn’t know if he’s referring to his apology in the car, or how he’d stayed in her bed and brushed his fingers through her hair as she fell asleep. Either way, she remembers. Her voice comes out barely over a whisper, “yeah.” 

He nods, eyes flickering down to his own hands. “I meant it,” he says, eyebrows furrowed. “Everything I said. I shouldn’t have laughed, I- I didn’t mean to…” He shakes his head to himself. “It was stupid, and m’sorry. I hate that I hurt you… that I like– ruined the moment–” 

“It’s fine–” she stammers, trying to brush it off. She doesn’t want it to be a big deal, she’s already embarrassed and bringing it up again just makes her want to… crawl in a hole. 

He sits up straighter, “it’s not fine. I was a dick.” He looks into her eyes, “I’m gonna make it up to you.”

She blinks at him.

“Please let me make it up to you.” His hand, resting on the table, inches closer to her. 

Harry cares… she can feel it. She can see it in his eyes, in his small mannerisms. She’s not making it up – it’s real. It feels warm and wonderful, like she’s a flower and sitting in the warm embrace of the sun.

Y/n can’t help but softly smile to herself. “Okay,” she whispers.

She slides her hands forward, and their fingers brush in the middle of the table. 

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part 3 hope u loved it :( epilogue is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (aug 12) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u think and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!!

sunshine (epilogue) - In which Harry's still grumpy, except for when he's with his sunshine girl.

sunshine masterlist

[secretsecretbunny]

Just friends: stray kids smau.

Part one: "there are no flaws in ghibli."

paring: lee minho x f!reader - roommate!skz

genre: fluff, angst, future smut, roommates au.

warnings for this chapter: mild sexual jokes. alcohol mention.

PLEASE read character intros/story set up: here

You had the large sofa set up with a few fluffy blankets and pillows, streaming service pulled up on the big TV when Minho emerged from his room. You were still wrapped up in the group chat when he silently leaned over the back of the grey couch, head next to yours, smiling mischievously before asking lowly in your ear, "so, which ghibli movie are we watching?", making you jump in surprise with a screech as he laughed at your reaction.

"JESUS, TWINKLETOES. WEAR A BELL OR SOMETHING!" you exclaimed, hand over your chest.

A playful chuckle escaped his lips as he plopped onto the cozy sofa beside you.

A sly grin spread across his face as he mused aloud, "yeah you'd like that, huh? a nice collar with a little bell fastened around my neck?" he winked.

You rolled your eyes "I'm gonna hose you down". you said, looking him up and down in an attempt to be threatening, but the more you thought about it, it did sound.. no. You shook off the thought, looking back at the TV.

Minho laughed and raised an eyebrow, his sharp features still amused as he asked again, "You gonna answer or what? Which movie are we doing?"

You huffed, rolling your eyes once again, this time with a subtle smile on your face. You leaned back into the cushions "I don't know, I was gonna let you choose", you responded, scrolling through the list of Ghibli movies on the screen.

"Oh, well then obviously The Cat Returns." he replied immediately. You perked up "Sweet, I love that one! Popcorn?". Minho nodded "obviously. I'll make drinks if you make the popcorn?" he asked. "deal." you said, standing up and heading towards the kitchen.

Your bare feet were chilly on the cold tiles as you walked into the large spacious kitchen. White marble countertops sat in contrast to the many black cabinets and their handles with gold detailing.

You opened the pantry and grabbed a bag of popcorn, then popped it into the microwave before turning around and hopping up to sit on the counter to watch Minho make the drinks. The marble countertop was cold on your pajama short clad legs as you kicked your dangling feet, feeling excited for movie night. "you want drinks or do you want drinks?" he asked, pausing what he was doing. "Hmm, drinks" you answered. He spun around, opening the glass liquor cabinet with a flourish "pick your poison, princess." he gestured at the dozens of bottles and raised his arms to emphasize the amount, making his shirt ride up and expose a line of soft skin above his sweatpants. You forcibly drag your eyes away to look at the extensive alcohol collection.

"do we have limoncello?"

"duh" Minho responded, grabbing the bright yellow liqueur. "what do you want it in?"

"sprite. add a bit of maraschino cherry juice?"

"you got it, princess." He meticulously prepared the drinks in tall, clear glasses, crafting a similar beverage for himself out of convenience, though likely not out of desire for the taste. The popcorn in the microwave emitted a high-pitched beep, prompting you to stand up and carefully remove it before pouring its contents into a glass bowl.

"ready?" you asked

he nodded "yeah. don't trip and spill the popcorn this time though." he chuckled.

"that was once!"

Minho looked at you pointedly, head cocked to the side.

"okay, twice. shut up." you grumbled quickly.

A grin spread across his face as he trailed behind you, heading back towards the plush couch.

As you prepared to enjoy the film, Minho placed the icy beverages within easy reach, arranging them neatly beside the heap of fluffy popcorn on the polished wooden coffee table. You cozied up into Minho as he sat down, the promise of cuddles being fulfilled.

You and Minho had been close friends since college, though it wasn't always that way. The first time you met him, freshman year, he was so unimpressed by your existence that you could barely get more than one word at a time out of him. He seemed disinterested in getting to know you better, and his curt responses made you feel like an inconvenience more than anything.

||flashback||

You were running late again. Of course you were, what was new? You sighed dramatically as you walked to your class, not even bothering to rush yourself at this point. Taking a deep breath of the crisp autumn air, you attempted to calm yourself. You knew you were starting a project today and the professor probably had already assigned you a partner since you were late. Most likely whichever poor soul it was that didn't get chosen by another classmate.

You entered the lecture hall, coffee in hand, sitting in your usual seat. You had just rested your forehead on the cool surface of the table when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Looking up with a pout you made eye contact with probably the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

"y/n, right? I'm your partner for the project." he said, his tone mildly annoyed.

"That's me. Sorry I'm late, I uh, overslept." you said with a nervous laugh and a warm smile.

"Don't care. You know what the project is even about?" he asked condescendingly, glower on his face.

Your smile dropped as you scoffed. The attitude on this guy. "Of course I do, why wouldn't I? It's been talked about for weeks." you responded, matching his tone.

"Well, you missed the opening lecture today because you were late, I don't know if that's a consistent problem for you or not." he rolled his eyes.

You narrowed your eyes at him. It definitely was a consistent problem, but he didn't need to know that. "Whatever. Let's just get started."

Throughout the next few weeks, you and Minho collaborated on the project, constantly disagreeing over every minor detail. It wasn't until your mutual friends, Chan and Changbin, intervened that you began to tolerate each other.

"You two are so similar it hurts." Changbin said as he watched you and Minho bicker over something as simple as which font to use.

"Don't compare me to him!" You said in offense.

"We may not see eye-to-eye on anything else, but our shared disdain for each other is undeniable." Minho said, arms crossed over his chest.

"what, you got a word of the day calendar or something? or are you just trying to meet your word count for the day." you spat out with disdain.

"Please, you're both getting on my nerves. Sit down and work on your project before I lecture you in the middle of this library." Chan huffed, frustration clear in his voice as he tried to work on his own homework.

"Yes, dad." Minho uttered sarcastically. "Wouldn't want to get myself grounded from the Nintendo for a week."

Your attempt to suppress your giggle failed as you laughed at his witty remark. You brought your hand up to conceal the wide grin spreading across your face while Minho observed your reaction intently, furrowing his brows with a tilt of his head.

"What?" You ask defensively.

"Nothing. Just never seen you laugh. The smile looks better than the scowl you're usually wearing"

You turn your head back to your laptop in an attempt to hide how flustered his comment made you. "Be funnier then." you mumbled.

He rolled his eyes, huffing out a small laugh of his own as he sat back down in the seat beside you. "I'll keep that in mind." he noted with a hint of sarcasm. Chan and Changbin shared a knowing look, smirks on their faces.

From then on, your interactions with Minho took on a playful edge. The back-and-forth banter and witty remarks became a Hallmark of your relationship, bringing you closer together.

As you continued to hang out frequently, Chan and Bin were always part of the crew. On occasion, Chan's cousin Felix would tag along, and before long he began inviting his own friends to join in on the fun as well. Your close-knit clique soon swelled up to an impressive total of nine members, marking the start of countless memorable adventures that are still talked about today.

The decision to drop out was made collectively about two years later by you and your friends due to an unfortunate event involving a harmful rumor that nearly jeopardized everything between your circle of friends. It simply didn't feel worth the trouble anymore. The frequent arguments you had with outsiders, the dirty looks, and the hushed whispers as you passed by made you feel culpable. The gossip topic made it feel like your fault. It affected you the most but the boys were treated horribly as well. You all began skipping classes, which honestly only fueled the rumors, but none of you could handle the treatment anymore so you all decided to drop out, Felix offering one of his families many large houses as refuge. You've all been together since.

||present day||

You were midway through the movie, thoroughly engrossed in the plot, while laying on the couch wrapped up in a warm and cozy blanket. Minho was spooning you from behind, his arm draped over your waist as he too followed along with the storyline of the film. When you spoke, it was in a soft voice laced with reminiscence "you know, I used to have a crush on The Baron." Your words came out with lighthearted laughter. Minho lifted his head to look down at you, his dark eyes meeting yours. He raised an eyebrow and smirked, saying everything he needed to without uttering a word. "what?! he's charming!!" you said in defense against his incredulous expression. Minho just huffed out a small laugh and shook his head before laying it back down on the pillow. "furry" he accused. You elbowed him lightly in the stomach "you're the worst" you said with an exaggerated pout "you like it" he responded.

You gradually fell asleep before the movie ended, rolling over to snuggle into Minho's warm chest, his soft black shirt pressed against your forehead. He gazed down at you with a gentle smile, brushing away any strands of hair from your face. The word "cute" escaped his lips in a soft whisper as he gazed at the sleeping form beside him. The warmth and comfort of the moment washed over him, and he too succumbed to the call of sleep. But their rest was short-lived, as exaggerated retching sounds mixed with the persistent vibration of their phones shattered the tranquility. Rolling onto your back, you groaned, annoyed at the interruption. Minho grabbed his phone, checking the group chat. "god, they're being annoying" he grumbled, voice laced with sleep. "when are they not?" you asked, snatching your phone up to check the chat as well.

Back in your room, you collapsed onto your comfortable queen-sized bed, which was adorned with a variety of plush blankets and pillows in different shapes and sizes. The color changing LED lights provided a soothing pink glow in the dimly lit room. As you re-read the group chat, you couldn't help but smile at the picture Felix sent before saving it to your phone. You then locked it and placed it on your bedside table. The comforting weight of your many blankets soon lulled you back into a peaceful sleep.

You had only been asleep for a mere two hours when your phone rang, waking you up once more. The sudden noise jolted you out of your slumber and left you feeling groggy and disoriented.

"hello?" you answered, voice rough from sleep.

"hey.. need you over here." a man's voice came through.

You glanced at the time on your phone, rubbing your tired eyes while trying to focus on the bright screen. "now?"

With a tantalizing tone, he uttered the words, drawing out each syllable "Yes now. I'll pay extra."

You let out a deep sigh, standing up and quickly getting dressed in decent clothes. "alright. come pick me up. I've been drinking, I can't drive."

"Already here." the man hung up without another word.

After storing your phone in the pocket of your torn jeans for safekeeping, you pulled on your plush jacket to go along with your simple yet comfortable tank top. Not wanting to waste any time choosing footwear, you opted for the first pair within reach - sleek black ankle boots featuring sturdy block heels. As you passed by the living room, Felix was still awake. You noticed that he was engrossed in a video game on the big screen TV. His fingers moved swiftly across the controller while his eyes remained fixed on the action unfolding before him. Despite being deeply immersed in the gameplay, when you went walking by, he immediately stopped what he was doing and looked back at you.

"Hey, bubs, where are you going? It's already 2 a.m." he asked, confusion and a hint of concern in his voice.

"just a work emergency!" you said simply as you ran your hands through your bed head, attempting to tame the unruly strands.

"this late?"

"yeah, I'll be back soon."

"I- okay. be safe, y/n."

You nodded. "of course, always."

You walked out the door and hopped into the luxurious black car with tinted windows that was already waiting for you. When Minho heard the sound of an engine, he got up to take a look outside his window and watched as you stepped into the sleek vehicle. He couldn't help the concern he felt as he watched it pull out of the long driveway and disappear down the street.

You were back home a mere two hours later, trudging through the door and heading straight to your room, ignoring Felix's lingering stare. You kicked off your shoes and removed your coat and pants before crawling back into bed and immediately passing back out. Tomorrow morning was gonna suck.

part 1.5 || part two || part three || part four

notes: and there's the first chapter of my first ever series! 😬 I hope you liked it!! I know we're starting off slow but I promise it'll pick up! please feel free to leave feedback and interactions so I can feel out what you guys like for part two! ily!! 🩷

There will be no taglist. Please turn on my blog notifications if you want to catch updates for this series!! ♥️

[danikamariewrites]

Sixth Sense

Azriel x Reader

A/n: Azriel is my favorite bat boy. Like gosh I just love him and he deserves love. I can’t wait for his book fr I need his thoughts and for him to say more than 5 words. I also love exploring the soft side of Az it’s just so cute. My requests are open so feel free to drop anything in there acotar, tog, or cc ❤️

Warnings: none just fluff

“Oh he so does not!” You say not totally convincing yourself.

Sitting at the kitchen island, Nesta rolls her eyes, next to her Feyre tries to hide her laugh behind her hand. “Come on, don’t lie to yourself. Azriel has a weird sixth sense for you.”

You and Azriel have only been dating for a year. It took a lot for him to introduce you to his family. He was afraid to share you, especially since he’d been on a little bit of a protective streak lately.

Feyre and Nesta have picked up on his over protectiveness and now Nesta is teasing you about his new found sense for you. “Ok let’s test it then. The bats are up in Rhysands office, we’ll hide and you call out for Azriel but only once. If he comes running within 5 seconds then I’m right.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you put your hands on your hips glaring at Nesta. “Ok, you’re on.”

“Yes! Ok Feyre, let’s go.” The sisters rush over to hide in the walk-in pantry waiting to be proven right.

You knew they were right. Azriel always had a weird way of knowing if you needed help, were upset, or just craved being near him. It was nice, being looked out for by the person you loved most in the whole world. And you don’t mind his over protective nature, you know why he’s like that. Azriel is just scared to lose you, you’re the most precious thing in the world to him.

As much as you don’t want Nesta to be right you do want to test her theory. Besides, it’s been hours since you’ve last seen Azriel’s pretty face and you miss him.

Opening the mug cabinet by the stove you climb up to kneel on the counter, making it look like you were trying to reach his favorite one. Taking a deep breath you yell, “Azriel!”

Silence. You strain your ears, sure Nesta and Feyre were doing the same from their hiding spot in the pantry. Milliseconds later you hear a door from upstairs fly open, heavy footsteps, and then there he is.

His beautiful, short black hair looks so soft you want to run your fingers through it. His tall figure takes up almost the whole doorway. The flecks of red and gold on his wings catch in the fae lights making them look ethereal. His gorgeous hazel eyes are focused on you like you’re the only person in the whole world. Wait, is that panic in his eyes? And face?

You finally notice you’re smiling at him like a love sick idiot as he clears the room in a few strides. He wraps his arms around your waist. “What’s wrong my love? Are you hurt?” Placing your hands on his chest you give him a soft, loving smile dipping your head. You almost feel bad for interrupting his meeting.

“Can you get that mug for me?” Azriel sighs, smiling while lifting you off the counter. He reaches up to the top shelf still keeping one arm around your waist. Azriel hands you the mug, kissing your forehead.

“Is that all you needed me for my love?” Azriel cradles your face stroking your cheek with his thumb. Still smiling up at him like a love sick idiot you nod. “Sorry, I know you were in a meeting with Cass and Rhys. But I also just wanted to see you.”

“No need to apologize my love, I’ll always come when you call for me.” You swoon feeling yourself fall in love with the male in front of you all over again. “I love you Az.” Standing on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck, your lips meet his in a soft kiss. You feel him smile against your lips and he reluctantly pulls away.

Azriels hands hold your waist, “I have to go back upstairs, but we should be done soon and then I’m all yours.”

“And we can read together?” He nods, “Yes my love.”

“And you’ll let me lay on your chest? And play with my hair?”

Azriel lets out one of those rare soft laughs, “Yes my love, we’ll do all your favorite things.” He lets go of you and gives your forehead one last kiss before turning and walking out of the kitchen back to Rhys’ office.

Still smiling like the lovesick fool you are, Nesta and Feyre come out of the pantry startling you. “Gods! I forgot you two were still here.” You clutch at your chest trying to calm your heart rate.

Feyre is looking at you with the biggest smile and Nesta is smirking. “Soooo…my theory?” Nesta says with an air of cockiness.

“Fine you’re right. But I love it.” You sigh looking back at the entrance to the kitchen counting down the minutes until his meeting is over.

[yoonkinii]

First date with Sukuna!

Warning(s): Minor cursing. Requests open (only for this AU) Masterlist (Check for more AU content!) Note: I apologize for any errors in my writing. I am the only one writing and editing so I may miss a few things that don't belong. Please let me know if you spot any. <3

“You’ve been staring at your phone for like 20 minutes, just text him already.”

Shoko remarked from your bed, flipping through a fashion magazine she found lying around. She had come over for a study session, but it quickly turned into you telling her about getting Sukuna’s number and having no idea how to proceed. 

“I can’t.” You whine, cheek pressed against the surface of your low living room table. 

Your studio apartment, though compact, was efficiently designed. The entryway doubled as storage, with hidden closets lining the walls and a discreet door on the left revealing the bathroom. The entry all opened into the main living area, where the lines between living room, bedroom, and dining area blurred. A small sofa sat against one wall, accompanied by a flower-shaped coffee table, with a TV hanging on the opposite wall, perfectly positioned for viewing from either the couch or bed. 

The right side of the apartment is occupied by your bed, creating a cozy sleeping nook, partially obscured by a tall bookshelf acting as a makeshift partition. The evening sun filtered through the window above the bed, casting gentle shadows on the floor. Sheer curtains adorned the window, more for decoration than privacy since you lived on the fourth floor.

The kitchen, tucked into one corner, was a masterpiece of compact efficiency. It contained the essentials: a stove, microwave, and small fridge. Wooden cabinets above the counter held a few cooking essentials and acted as a pantry.

“What do you even mean by that? You got his number, just text him,” Shoko counters, sitting up from her position on your bed and making her way over to you. She plops down beside and, with a practiced swipe, unlocked your phone.  

You hiss, raising your head from the table and narrowing your gaze at her. “I didn’t give you my phone password so you could just go through it whenever.”

“What else am I going to do with your phone?” She replied nonchalantly.

“You are insufferable.”

She hums, her thumb nail lightly grazing her teeth as she deftly types on your phone’s screen. You realize too late what she was doing and lunge for your phone, snatching it out of her grasp. 

You gasp, dread filling your insides. “Why did you do that?” you screech, practically flinging your phone back onto the table as if it had burned your hand. You stood up, running your hands through your hair as you pace around the limited space of your apartment. “You just basically screwed me over by sending that text.”

Shoko rolls her eyes, picking up your phone from where you discarded it. “I did not screw you over.” She insisted. “Look, he’s typing.”

Practically tripping over air, you were by Shoko’s side in an instant, staring at the typing bubbles on the screen. A moment later, your phone dinged with a new message- from Sukuna. Shoko grinned, glazing at you. “See? I helped you out.”

“Holy shit,” you muttered, grabbing the phone and staring at the few simple words on your screen.

Your stomach churned with anxiety. 

It had taken hours to get ready for this date, even with Shoko’s help. The fact that Sukuna had chosen a three-star Michelin restaurant didn’t ease your nerves- such a place was beyond your wildest dreams. Miraculously, you found something suitable for the occasion buried deep in your closet. 

You wore a sleek, off-the-shoulder black dress that hugged your figure perfectly. The sleeves flared slightly at the wrists, adding a touch of elegance without feeling too constricting. The dress’s hemline was on the shorter side, so you paired it with slightly sheer black tights. Completing the outfit were black pumps and a small purse slung over your shoulder, just big enough to hold your phone, wallet, apartment keys, and a few necessities. 

Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm your jittery stomach. The last thing you needed was a bout of nerves ruining your first date with the man of your dreams. Your inexperience with fancy places gnawed on you. What if there were specific forks you had to use? Or a certain way to speak?

Shaking off your nerves as best as you could, you finally stepped into the restaurant. The smooth sounds of jazz- saxophone and piano- immediately enveloped you, creating an atmosphere of refined elegance. The building was bathed in a dim glow, with soft light illuminating from bulbs hanging down from the veiling, reminiscent of a starlit sky. 

A hostess appeared before you, exuding an air of professionalism. Dressed in attire reminiscent of a butler’s uniform, complete with white gloves, she greeted you with a polite smile. When you gave her your name, her demeanor shifted slightly; her back tensed, and her eyes widened fractionally before she quickly regained her composure, making you wonder if you had even imagined it. 

As you followed the hostess, you took in the restaurant’s decor. White tablecloths covered the tables, each adorned with a lit candle and a bouquet of roses. Booths lined the walls, their half-circle seats echoing the elegance of the freestanding tables. In the center of the room, a dais hosted the musicians whose performance had captivated you to the point that you nearly collided with the hostess when she abruptly stopped.

Stepping back to create some distance, you meet her gaze. She smiles and tilts her head slightly, motioning for you to ascend the staircase you hadn’t noticed before. It was unusual for a restaurant to have a second story, so you didn’t bother paying much attention towards the ceiling. Now, you see a balcony-like area surrounding the walls of the building, offering a view of the first-floor patrons below. Tables similar to those on the ground floor were placed along the second-story banisters. 

Ascending the spiral stairs with the hostess following at a respectful distance, you reached the top and the hostess once again took the lead. She guided you past various tables to a secluded booth in a back corner, partially hidden by a sheer black curtain. The dark lighting made the booth hard to spot, adding an air of exclusivity and intimacy to it. 

Even in the dim light, you spotted him immediately, his pink hair unmistakable. His back was to you, giving you a few brief moments to take him in before you had to face him. He wore black slack, with the sleeves of his white button-up shirt rolled up to his forearms, revealing more of his intricate tattoos. Two bands of black ink encircled his wrists, their meaning being a mystery to you. You couldn’t dwell on his tattoos any longer as the hostess parted the curtain, gesturing for you to take a seat opposite of Sukuna. 

Your palms were sweaty; in fact, you felt a clammy discomfort all over. Biting your bottom lips, you slid into the booth, surprised by how deeply you sank into the cushion. 

A low chuckle from across the table snaps you out of your thoughts. Your head jerks up, and you find yourself staring at Sukuna. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone. Your mind goes blank as you take in the exposed skin of his collarbone and chest, revealing a peak of well sculpted muscles. 

“You should see the face you’re making right now,” he says, his voice tinged with amusement. He picks up a glass filled with amber liquid, taking a small sip and setting it back down. “I must say, I was quite surprised by how forward you were over text. No greeting or anything, just straight to business.”

Snapping out of your daze, you laugh nervously, your hands fiddling with the hem of your dress under the table. “Sorry about that.” You couldn’t help but apologize, worried that Shoko might have done more harm than good. You barely even knew Sukuna, having only encountered him twice and even those moments were brief. 

He hums, leaning back into his seat, his gaze fixed on you. You stare back, wide-eyed and unsure of what to do. His eyes roamed over your body, and he made no effort to hide what was doing. Your skin felt like it was on fire under his scrutiny. A smirk curled at the corner of his lips. 

“I never asked, but,” He pauses, his eyes locking onto  yours. “How old are you?”

“I’m 25.” 

“Oh?” He leans forward, forearms resting on the table. “That’s quite a big age gap between us.”

You couldn’t help the small pout that forms on your lips, your brows knitting together. “If a seven-year age gap is big for you, then I have a few questions. And I thought I made it clear I didn’t care.”

His eyes lit up with something akin to amusement. “So she does have some bite in her.” Sukuna raises a hand, and almost as if he had summoned them, a waiter appeared. Dressed similarly to the hostess, the waiter bowed slightly as Sukuna made a gesture at them. Without a word, a menu was placed before you. 

“Thank you,” you offered the waiter as you opened the menu. Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at the prices listed. Everything was outrageously expensive; even a simple salad cost a small fortune. Your heart sank along with your pride. 

Guess I’ll have to work overtime for a while, you thought to yourself, your heart breaking slightly at the mere thought of having to work extra hours. 

The waiter returned with a glass of water, taking your order after setting down your drink. You cast a curious glance at Sukuna as the waiter took your menu. He never received one and didn’t even look at yours. 

“Are you not ordering?” You questioned once the waiter was far enough, worry lacing your tone. 

“They already know what I want,” He replied flatly. 

Letting out a soft ‘Ah’ of acknowledgment, you settle back against the booth, taking in your surroundings. It’s not every day you find yourself in such an upscale establishment, so you might as well savor the experience. 

“I take it this is your first time at a place like this?” His voice draws your attention back to him. His eyes are fixed on you, a brow arched in curiosity. 

“God no,” you laugh softly. “I’m in college right now, so there’s no way I could afford places like this.” You admit sheepishly, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“What are you studying?”

“Biology.”

“You want to be a doctor?”

You visibly deflate, your hands cradling the chilled glass of water, fingers gently tapping against its surface. “I used to think so, but the deeper I got into my degree, the more I realized how difficult it is. I think I’ll just become a nurse and work for my friend.”

Shoko is determined to become a doctor, claiming she wants to be her own boss and not have to answer to, in her words, ‘stupid old people.’ You wouldn’t mind working under her as one of her nurses. She’s also said she wouldn’t mind it either, so that’s your current goal. 

Sukuna hums, nodding thoughtfully. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you study him, taking in his appearance. He arches a brow at your stare, almost daring you to say something. And you do. 

“Your piercing.” You begin, pointing to your own eyebrow to mirror his. “Did it hurt really bad?”

“No.” 

“No?” You echo, surprised by his response. Even with a high pain tolerance, it still must’ve hurt a little. 

“No,” He affirms. “I was shit face drunk when I got them.”

You blink at him. Once. Twice before a laugh you can’t hold back escapes you. Your hand covers your mouth, slightly surprised by your own reaction. Sukuna tuts his lips, a slight frown pulling on his lips. 

“Think that's funny, brat?”

You heave out a breath, sighing away to remnants of your laughter. “Hey, I don’t think that warrants being called a brat.” 

“Well you are laughing like an immature brat.” He snarls lowly, lips hovering against the rim of his glass as he takes another sip.

“I’m not sure that I'm the immature one. I wasn’t the one that got drunk and pierced their eyebrow.”

Sukunas eyes narrow on you, lips curling into a half-smile. “Cheeky,” He mumbles more to himself.

Talking to Sukuna felt surprisingly easy. Even when the food arrived, the conversation continued to flow smoothly, with you doing most of the talking. It was clear that Sukuna had a slight temper, evident in the way he grumbled to himself when the waiter made a mistake or how his brows knit together in frustration. Once, when the waiter accidentally brought over a drink neither of you ordered, Sukuna dismissed him with a curt “It’s fine,” but you noticed the way his eyes followed the waiter, as if trying to burn holes in his back. 

Despite his temper, his annoyance was never directed at you. He listened intently when you spoke, adding his own bits to the conversation. You learned that he got all his ear piercings at once, with the gauges being the most bothersome to take care of. His tattoos came a few years later, taking longer to complete because his tattoo artist wasn’t comfortable doing such a large project in one sitting.

Sukuna also shared that his “dumbass nephew” lived with him, usually bothering him and rarely ever shutting up. Despite Sukuna’s grimace while talking about his nephew, it was clear he cares deeply for him. He shows you photos of Yuji on his phone, from baby pictures to ones from elementary and middle school, grumbling about how Yuji sucked at math in middle school. You could tell that beneath his gruff exterior, Sukuna had a soft spot for his family. Why else would he have so many photos saved on his phone?

Time flew by in an instant, and before you knew it, the check landed on the table. Acting on impulse, you reached for your purse, intending to retrieve your wallet. But before you could even open your purse, the waiter swiftly whisked away the bill. 

“Wait-” You called after the retreating waiter, but he didn’t turn back. Sukuna observed you with a bored depression, his temples resting against his propped-up hand. With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly close your purse. 

“We could’ve split the bill.” You suggested, eyeing Sukuna across the table. 

“Like you could afford it,” he retorted coolly

Your face flushed, lips pressed into a thin line at his comment. Though it rang true, you still felt a twinge of guilt. Who knew how much this dinner had cost, and whether Sukuna could even afford it without consequences. 

“When a man pays for your meal, you should really be thanking them more than complaining.” Sukuna remarked. 

You fix  Sukuna with a hard stare until he sighs at your stubbornness, relenting. “Fine. You can treat me next time.”

Your heart skips a beat, eyes widening slightly at the implication behind his words. A smile spreads across your face involuntarily. “Really?” you repeat, practically beaming with joy. Sukuna rolls his eyes but he couldn’t hide the half-smile beginning to form on his lips. “If I knew you were going to light up like the damn sun, I might have said otherwise.”

You clicked your tongue, letting out a faux laugh. “Ha ha, too late to take it back now.”

Chuckling softly, Sukuna leans back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, looking at you with a hint of sincerity in his eyes.

“No, I guess I can’t.”

-

Tag List (open):@kalulakunundrum , @fushipurro

[aayakashii]

Based on one of Haru's voice lines, in which he implies he is barely eating properly ｡°(°¯᷄◠¯᷅°)°｡ took matters into my own hands and made the hardworking king eat a bit ( –֊ｰ)✧

I have no idea why I formatted it like this, but I guess I'll be rolling with it

the way to a man's heart is through his stomach

“I ate a few of the snacks I gave to Peekaboo earlier today, so I'm fine!” Haru says with one of his thumbs up, disheveled hair and mud all over his clothes “I promise, I'm not hungry at all, haha!”

“Haru” you say, in a serious and deep tone “You can't keep neglecting your health like this, you know?”

“But I gotta feed all the animals first, dontcha think?” He says, chucking another fruit towards the angry and starving cockatrices that threatened to bite his fingers off if he took even a little bit longer to feed them .

“Well” you say, crossing your arms and quirking an eyebrow “If you fall ill again, then no one's gonna be feeding the animals, dontcha think?”

Haru gasped dramatically “Come on!! I just got sick last time because I got scratched, now check this out” he says, sticking out his arms and twirling on the spot “I am A-okay, no scratches to be seen at a-oof!”

As if on cue, Towa leaped from one of the tall boulders that surrounded the field, straight into Haru's arms, tightly hugging the Captain.

“Towa! I was just showing (y/n) that I have no bruises, it wasn't an invitation for a hug!” Haru gasped, as Towa rubbed his cheek on the top of his head, just like a cat.

You sighed, leaving the two Jabberwock students behind as you trudged back towards their dorm, tired and incredibly frustrated.

Seeing Haru overexert himself on a daily basis caused a pang in your heart. He barely received any help, and it’s not like you could be properly useful either, since each and every animal in this place could snap you in half with just one forceful push, or tear a limb away with just one bite.

So you had to do your best babysitting Peekaboo whenever he needed, lightening up the load the only way you could.

As you opened the door to the Jabberwock dorm, you made a beeline for the kitchen – Ren was out working at the diner, so it would be fine to take a peek at the state of things without prying eyes.

And… how predictable. There was nothing but animal food in the freezer. And in the pantry, and in the cabinets.

You sighed loudly. You kind of could understand Towa not eating – maybe he just… photosynthesized? – but Haru wasn’t as whimsical as your resident fairy boy that could (probably) live on bubbles, sunlight, and flowers. “He still needs to eat, damn it.” you muttered, closing the refrigerator’s door with a bit too much force.

With a strong resolve, you decide to jog your way to your own dorm.

Since you came to Darkwick Academy, the Chancellor had been extremely kind to you. Granted, the dorm WAS a rundown dusty cathedral in the beginning, but he still made his best to fix everything to keep you as safe and comfortable as possible.

Which means: the Chancellor had given you an entire kitchen and a small allowance that let you buy as much food as you needed since the cafeteria wasn’t open 24/7.

You aren’t exactly the best cook in the world, but you could still make your own snacks, if needed. Sho would probably yap endlessly about your lack of culinary ability if he saw you with all hands on deck, but what mattered was getting by.

Therefore, you got to work: separating lettuce, carrots, eggs and every other healthy thing you could find in your inventory, you prepared four well stuffed egg sandwiches: for Towa, Ren, yourself and, of course, Haru.

After packing the food and a bottle of juice, you strode back to the Jabberwock dorm.

After two sandwiches carefully placed in that barren, sad refrigerator, and a stroll back to the field, you found Haru feeding the Capybus with huge leaves as he cooed, admiring the huge animal anomaly.

“Hey, I’m back” you said, making your way back to his side

“Oh! Hello (y/n), where did you go all of a sudden? I’m about to finish giving her this food!”

Ignoring his question, you pointed at a tree a few meters away from the spot “Hm, when you finish, could you go over there? I need to talk to you, so I’ll sit there and wait”

Haru’s face drooped immediately “Eh, okay…? Is everything fine?! Are you upset with something?”

You waved dismissively as you walked towards the tree “Don’t worry, it's nothing! Just don’t keep me waiting too long!”

Haru finished his job quickly and jogged his way to the tree, sitting under the shadow beside you.

“Wh-what’s going on? What did you need to talk about?” he asked, fidgeting, a worried frown on his face.

“Hey, don’t worry, I told you it’s nothing horrible” you laughed “But I want you to do something for me, if possible”

“Oh!” His face immediately lit up. “What is it?”

You opened your bag and placed the toasty sandwich on his lap.

“I want you to eat properly for once”.

Haru blinked at the food, silent.

His prolonged silence made it your turn to fidget uncomfortably “Haru?”

“You made this?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You nodded. “It’s nothing fancy, but I can’t let you waste away while you do everything in here. I can’t do much besides babysitting the little guys, so at least I want to help you in another way… Is this okay? Sorry if I’m crossing a boundary…”

“No, no” Haru shook his head and turned his gaze towards you, smiling softly “It’s… I really appreciate it. It's just – I’m not very used to something this thoughtful. This was a surprise – a good surprise, obviously.” He said, unwrapping his sandwich.

As the scent of food hit his nose, Haru’s stomach growled loudly. “Oh dear” he giggled, sheepishly scratching his head as a blush appeared on his face “I guess you might be starting to know me a little better than myself”.

You laughed as well, but clutched his arm right before he could actually touch the sandwich, holding a finger up “Wait, wait!”

Rummaging through your bag, you fetched a small bottle and sprayed his hands thoroughly “That’s alcohol. Please always clean your hands before eating” you said, solemnly “You might be a ghoul, but your tummy can ache as well”.

Haru stared at you blankly for a moment, then immediately started laughing loudly as he drenched his hands in alcohol.

“You know, people usually say I’m the mother of all these animals, but being on the receiving end does feel kinda good” he said, still laughing happily, making a blush creep up on your cheeks.

“It’s- it’s just hygiene, okay?” you pouted, cleaning your hands as well and grabbing your own sandwich.

“I know, I know” He said, still unable to control his smile “Well, then… Can we dig in?” Haru asked, holding the snack close to his face, mouth wide open as if he was waiting for your okay to take the first bite.

“Let's eat!” You said and Haru immediately chomped his sandwich, taking a big bite “I do hope it's edible enough…” you murmured, eyeing him carefully to gauge his reaction.

After that big bite, Haru let out a loud “Mmh!!” as he chewed, his cheeks puffed like a squirrel who put one too many acorns in their mouth.

“What?? Is it that bad? I'm sorry!”

He eagerly shook his head as he finished chewing, a small piece of chopped carrot still stuck on his chin “No no no, stop selling yourself short!! This tastes great!!”

You let out a sigh of relief and took your first bite, confirming that, indeed, you did a good job with the snacks.

After a few moments of silence as you two snacked together, Haru ate the last bit of his sandwich, letting out a sigh of pure satisfaction.

“Ahhh… that was so good! Thank you so much, honestly.”

“See? And you didn't even notice at all how hungry you were! Here, now drink this” You grabbed the juice bottle you prepared and opened the lid, tilting the container towards him “Drink it while it's still cold, it'll taste a lot better.”

“... You truly prepared all of this for me?” Haru asked, gazing at the bottle.

“Of course I did. I made sandwiches for Ren and Towa too so they wouldn't feel left out, but truthfully, I made it all for…” your voice trailed off as you looked at Haru.

He avoided your gaze, a faint blush tinting his cheeks.

“Um. Yeah” you cleared your throat “I made it all for you. And I will do it more times to make sure you're eating properly! I don't want you to get sick ever again.”

Haru nodded silently. “I'm sorry for worrying you that day…” he mumbled into the now empty juice bottle.

You sighed heavily. “Hey. It's fine, Haru. Just remember there's a lot of people who always want to see you healthy and happy, okay? I'm one of them.”

He nodded once again, then immediately opened his arms out in a stretch, yawning loudly. He let his body fall heavy on the ground, with his head right beside you.

“I really am living in paradise, ain't I? Got this pretty place, cute animals and now even home cooked food…” he yawned again “I'm living the life… or maybe I already died and went to heaven…” he mumbled, almost incoherently.

“Geez Haru, don't say this type of thing!” You almost went for a playful smack on his head, but right as your hand was about to touch him, you noticed Haru had fallen asleep almost immediately after lying down.

Your eyes softened at the sight of his relaxed figure right next to you, and your fingers found their way to his hair, interlocking them with his soft red locks.

Unbeknownst to you, as you watched him sleep soundly and petted him gently, a pair of pink eyes observed you two from afar.

Towa munched on his own sandwich after picking out the egg and leaving only the greens. His eyes were set on the two of you, and he let out an amused giggle.

“Well, well... I wonder if this will become another love story.”

[grapejollyrancher]

Noise Complaints (Pt. 1 (?))

Logan Howlett x Reader

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem! AFAB! Reader

Warnings: smut, MINORS DNI, dry humping, slight dacryphilia (only if you squint), desperate!logan, pet names, no use of y/n, knife use (not sexual, not knifeplay)

a/n: yall pls go easy on me this is my first time ever publishing a fanfic :O. if there are any errors or if i forgot to mention any warnings or triggers please LMK! constructive criticism is heavily encouraged as i mentioned this is my first fic. ALSO so sorry i am legit incapable of writing sexual tension/ buildup forgive me! Hope you guys enjoy! let me know what you think :) (p.s. i have a part two drafted if anyone is interested i can edit it and post soon!)

It was a boring day at the X-Mansion…

You pass through the living room on the way to the kitchen to grab something to eat. Your eyes glance around the room and see Logan sitting on one of the armchairs with a cigar in his hand. Some random show is playing on the TV but you can tell he isn’t paying attention; his mind is somewhere else.

“Hey lo! Whatcha up to?”

He’s lost in thought, but his head snaps up when hears you. He looks up at you and gives you small smile, taking a drag from his cigar before responding.

“Just thinkin'. Nothin' important, Darlin'. What're you up to?”

You move across the room towards the entrance of the kitchen and point, your cheeks turning pink at his petname for you.

“Gonna make something to eat. You hungry?” You ask.

He stays silent for a moment, thinking about it, before nodding.

“Yeah, I could eat. What're you making?”

“Probably just a sandwich,” You shrug, “Nothin’ crazy”

He chuckles as he stands up and stretches a little, his shirt riding up slightly to show a sliver of his tanned stomach. He stubs out his cigar before nodding. Your eyes are glued to the small piece of tanned skin showing before his words snap your attention back to your task.

“Sure thing, Darlin'. Lead the way.”

You walk into the kitchen, Logan trailing behind you. You can feel his gaze burning into the back of you. You turn to him,

“Okay ill grab the stuff from the pantry if you wanna grab the stuff from the fridge?” He nods.

“Yeah, sure thing, Darlin’.”

He turns to the fridge and you turn towards the cabinets, searching for what you need when you notice the bread is on a high shelf out of reach

“Who the fuck put the bread up there?” You mutter under your breath and turn to ask Logan for help, leaning your back against the counter

.

“Hey Lo? Help a girl out, would you?” You ask with a fake pout making grabby hands at the bread that’s out of reach. He chuckles as you made grabby hands at it and strain to try to reach the shelf. He closes the fridge and walks over to you.

“Sure thing, Darlin'.”

Your breath hitches as you feel him pressed against you, caging you in against the counter with one of his hands resting on the counter near your hip. Looking up at him as he hands you the bread, you realize just how much taller he is than you, how much bigger.

“T-thanks, Lo,” you stutter. He smirks as he watches you flush, his eyes tracing every part of you.

“No problem, Darlin'.” He leans down so he was right next to your ear, his voice lowering as he spoke.

“You’re just a little too small, huh?” He teases. You playfully smack his arm and roll your eyes at his teasing words, blushing slightly.

“It’s not my fault I’m not freakishly tall like you,” you tease back.

“I think it’s cute,” he smirks as he leans even closer, his body pressed right against yours, your faces only inches apart. “Perfect jus’ the way ya are, Princess'.”

You feel your face getting even redder at his compliments. Your breath gets caught in your chest as he leans impossibly closer, embarrassed knowing he can probably hear your heart hammering against your ribcage.

“Thanks, Logan.” You say averting your eyes and turning your back to him, trying to focus on what you were doing before.

You hear him chuckle softly behind you at your embarrassment. He pushes off the counter to lean back against the island a few steps away from you. You take in a shuddering breath now that he was no longer pressed up against you, trying to focus on the sandwich-in-progress on the counter in front of you. You glance back to where he’s leaning against the counter. He watches you carefully as you make your sandwich, his eyes never leaving you. He shifts his weight against the counter with his arms crossed, his muscles flexing slightly as he moves. Your eyes involuntarily widen at the sight of his arms bulging. You quickly turn back around, trying to force down the thoughts running through your mind at the sight.

Your hands shake a bit with nervousness as you try to steady your thoughts. The idea of him pressed up against you again flashes through your head and you gasp lightly. The knife in your hand clatters to the floor.

“Shit!” You yelp. You bend down to pick up the knife, still trying to steady your breathing. He immediately looks down as the knife drops to the floor, his gaze trained on you as you bent over to pick it up. He instantly tenses, his face becoming flushed almost instantly at the sight in front of him. He steps up closer behind you, his body almost completely pressed up against yours again. His voice is low as he speaks.

“Careful, hon. Don’t wanna hurt yourself.” You jump slightly at the sound of his deep voice, realizing just how close to you he was again. You straighten back up and toss the knife into the sink, giving up on making your sandwich.

“Im okay!”

He was still standing right behind you, his body pressed right up against yours. he leans down towards your ear and speaks in a low, gruff voice,

“Yer makin' me think naughty thoughts with you bendin’ over like that, Darlin’.” You suck in a breath at his words. His intoxicating scent surrounds you and you feel the stubble on his chin run against the sensitive skin of your neck

“O-oh.” You stutter, “what kind of naughty thoughts?” He smirks as you stutter at his words, his hand slowly running up the side of your hip. His hot breath ghosts across the skin of your neck and shoulder, giving you chills.

“Oh, just the things I want to do to you, Darlin'...” You whimper at his grip on your hips and his breath against your neck, leaving you breathless and wanting him. You feel his hard bulge press against your ass and moan softly at the contact

“Logan, I--“ you pant, “didn’t think you liked me like that.” He chuckles at your reaction and places a gentle kiss on the underside of your jaw, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he presses his body even tighter against yours. He hums softly,

“I've been wantin' ya for a while now, Darlin'. You’ve been drivin' me crazy since I first met ya,”

You sigh as he kisses your jaw and neck, moaning as you feel his sculpted chest and abs against your back and his bulge pressing into your ass.

“Fuck Logan- I want you,” You say, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

Hearing you moan like that sends a shiver down his spine. He growls softly and pushes his hips against you a bit, his body yearning for you.

“Mm, is that so, princess? Sounds like someone's getting excited...” He trails off as he continues his kisses down your jawline and your neck, the stubble of his chin scratching deliciously across your sensitive skin.

You turn around in his grasp and wrap your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You came onto me Lo… don’t blame me for getting all hot and bothered at you pressing up against me like that” He chuckles at your comment, his own arms wrapping around your waist and holding you tightly against him. He hums at the feel of your fingers in his hair and tilts his head back slightly.

“Can ya blame me for wanting you? You're so damn sexy like this...” His mouth goes back to your neck, slowly leaving a trail of kisses and occasionally a few hickies down your throat. You throw your head back and tug at the locks of his hair between your fingers. You groan as you feel his hands slip up under your shirt and squeeze your hips.

“F-fuck-“ you sigh. Hearing you moan and sigh at his touch sends waves of heat through him and he groans slightly. He continues to kiss and bite your neck, his hands moving up and downyour sides under your shirt, the calloused skin of his hands rough against your softer skin.

“Such a sweet little thing... I wonder how long you'll last...”

You whimper from his words and buck your hips to meet his. You place a hand under his chin to tilt him back towards your face, leaning in and slotting your lips against his. You gasp as you feel him slide his hands down your back to your ass and feel him squeeze. He slides them down further and grasps the back of your thighs firmly, lifting you up with ease so he can set you on the counter.

He groans against your lips as he feels you grind your hips against his. He eagerly returns the kiss, his lips moving in perfect sync with yours. Once he lifts you up onto the counter he immediately steps between your legs, parting them. His hands once again on your hips, holding you.

“Mmm,” he moans, “Darlin' you're gettin' me all worked up here...”

“Logan,” you whimper, head tilting back, hands still gripping his hair. You feel his bulge press against your clothed core. “Oh, there—"

His voice deep and gravelly in your ear, “Yeah, baby? Like this?”

He rolls his hips against you gently, his breath getting heavier in your ear. Your eyes roll back into your head in pleasure at the feeling of him rutting against you. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him impossibly closer.

“Holy shit—”

His breath hitches slightly at the sound of your soft moans. He grunts as he’s pulled closer, his face burying in the crook of your neck.

“S-so damn needy... Sound so pretty for me, doll.”

You’re a moaning, whimpering mess as he thrusts against you, the feeling of his body engulfing you, driving you close to the edge. He continues to grind against you, nearly losing his mind with you being so needy against him. The thin material of your shorts leaves nothing to the imagination as the friction from the rough denim against your clit sends sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

“Logan,” you gasp. “So good—"

“Don't worry, Darlin'... “ He breathes back, “I've got you”

His hands start to slide up under your shirt, tracing his hands over your stomach and up towards your chest, kneading the soft skin with his large palms. You moan loudly against his shoulder, biting down to try to muffle the noises escaping you. You grip his shoulders with all your strength as your legs start to shake against him. His hands pinch and pull at your nipples and you throw your head back and a throaty groan escapes your lips at the euphoric sensation

“Logan—shit!” you whimper, “Don’t stop—” You say as he starts to slow his movements, like he was going to pull away. A wicked grin spreads across his face as he comes to a realization.

“Is this gonna get you baby? You’re a mess already and I’ve barely touched you.”

You blush at his words, his thrusts picking up speed again. The feeling of his clothed tip nudging your clit brings you closer and closer to your release. You clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds of your climax approaching. Tears well in the waterline of your eyes from the overwhelming feeling of him pleasuring you.

“Look at me doll,” he demands. You snap your head up to look at him, surely with a fucked-out expression on your face. “Look so pretty f’me darlin’. Look at you crying from my cock, feels too good, huh?”

Your eyes roll back and you whimper at his words, “God—Yes, Lo. Getting s-so close—"

He returns his lips to your neck to press wet, hot kisses over the skin again, trailing up your jawline to nip at your earlobe.

“That’s it, baby. C’mon” he encourages you as you buck your hips to meet his thrusts, chasing your rapidly approaching orgasm.

“Lo—” You whine, “Gonna come-! Don’t stop d-don’t stop, please” you whine tearfully, gripping his shoulders and digging your nails in to ground yourself.

He groans into the crook of your neck, loving the painful pleasure of your nails biting into his skin. He starts to come undone from your begging, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you as close as he could, guiding your hips to meet his quick thrusts.

“Yeah, Darlin'... Need you to come for me. Be a good girl and let go”

He continues marking up your neck for the world to see, inhaling your sweet scent that he can’t seem to get enough of. His breathing becoming heavier and more uneven as his need for you increases.

“Logan! Feels so fucking good- oh god I’m so close—"

Hearing the sounds of you falling apart in his arms pushes him over the edge, his heaving breaths uneven and his muscles tensing from the feeling of you coming undone against him.

“Mmm, yes, Darlin'... Let go baby... Come for me, princess” he moans and licks a stripe up the shell of your ear. His deliciously large hands groping your chest and pinching your stiff peaks.

The feeling of his hands on you, all over you, send you over the edge. Your orgasm lighting you up and splitting you open from top to bottom. Your eyesight goes slightly blurry from the intensity of your release. You grip his hair and pull hard to ground yourself. You pull him towards you and crash your lips to his in a heated kiss. You could feel his thrusts become faster and shorter, knowing he was close

“Fuck princess... you're drivin' me crazy... gonna make me come—" His body trembles and his hips start to lose rhythm.

“Logan—” you pant against his ear, “Want you to come for me- please baby- need to feel you.” You press your lips to his jaw and kiss down the column of his throat, winding one of your hands in his hair to tug at it. You pull away for a second to whisper against him again

“I know you’re close Lo,” you nip at his lower lip and he whines into your mouth. “Wanna feel you. C’mon baby… let go for me Logan.”

He nearly loses it when he hears your throaty voice in his ear again, his name sounding like a prayer from your lips. He could only focus on your voice and your breath against his skin as you spoke, his control slipping more with every word. He could feel the pressure building and building almost to the breaking point, his body quivering with need and his hands gripping your hips with a bruising force.

“F-fuck Logan… so fucking good baby. Need you to come. Get it lo, come for me”

He groans loudly against your skin, barely able to think or speak as his climax rapidly approaches, all he could say was your name.

“Fuck—oh, fuck—I’m coming doll—shit!”

With one more desperate moan against your skin and a final roll of his hips against you, he completely unravels, his mind lost in a haze of lust from you. He groans your name in a low, gruff voice as he rides out his orgasm.

“So good baby… so fucking good for me Lo,” You scratch your nails against his scalp lightly to ground him, his clothed cock still throbbing against your core

Your words and the feel of your nails against his skin was the only thing he could focus on as he tried to regain his breathing and composure.

“Ah... mmm... Darlin'... You'll be the death of me...” He pants against your neck, pressing light kisses on your shoulder.

“Big words comin’ from a man who can’t die” You smirk at him teasingly. He chuckles softly at your words, taking a few more deep breaths to try to calm himself down

“Heh, Darlin', you know what I mean... You drive me crazy, gonna kill me one of these days...” he breathes.You lean into the weight of his against your neck, turning your head to place a gentle kiss against his, sliding your hands up and down his shoulders soothingly.

“I sure hope not,” You tease, “I’m gonna need you to stick around for a while now that I know what you’re capable of.” He hums softly as your hands slide across his shoulders gently gripping your hips with his hands, fingers tracing small patterns on your skin.

”Mmm, don’t you worry, Darlin'. I ain’t goin’ anywhere. You’re stuck with me now.”

“Good.” You sigh against his hair, “Let’s go get cleaned up honey.” You hop down from the counter as he releases your hips. You stumble slightly, legs shaky from the aftermath of your intense orgasm, and you wrap a hand around his bicep for stability.

He chuckles at your lack of balance and shaky legs, a sense of pride and satisfaction surging through his chest. He wraps his arms around you and steadies you against him.

“Easy there, princess. Looks like I did a number on ya, huh?” He gives you a cocky smirk as he holds you close against his chest. You look up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Is that all you got, Howlett?” Before he can react, you sprint out of the kitchen towards the stairs. He was caught off guard at first, his eyes widening in surprise as he watches you flee from him. He takes a moment to react, then smiles and lets out a huff in response. He could hear you laughing and the grin on his face only grew.

“Darlin'... you're playin’ a dangerous game with me right now,” He calls after you. You started giggling madly as you hear his heavy footsteps start behind you. He lets out a low chuckle as he chases after you up the stairs, slowly gaining on you as his legs were much longer than yours. You giggle and squeal as you feel his strong, muscular arms wrap around you, lifting you from the ground.

“Logan!” You shriek, as he lifts you higher to put one arm around your back and the other behind your legs, carrying you bridal style, holding you close against his solid chest.

“Heh, I gotcha now darlin’.” He ducks down to whisper huskily in your ear.

And have you he did.

[okminer07]

A Growing Problem Pt 2

This is a shorter part than I planned to post, but I really wanted to give y'all an update and let you know I'm still working on this. Hopefully 3rd part will come soon.

Lily stepped through the door frame, looking around curiously for him. Clearly, she had been expecting him to be right at the front door to meet her. It didn’t take long however for her eyes to land on Jeremy, the elephant-sized elephant in the room.  

She let out a yelp at the sight of him, her hands immediately dropping the paper bag she had been carrying to fly up and cover her mouth in horror. Her eyes looked ready to pop out of her skull as she looked him over. He looked grimly back at her, panic rising when she backed away a step. 

“Don’t go.” he pleaded, “Please, don’t go.”  

At the sound of his voice, a sort of realization filled Lily’s eyes, “J-Jeremy?”  she looked him over again, still gaping, “Wha- how-”  

“I don’t know.”  

“You're…. You're…” she stepped closer, “You’re huge!”  

“You think I haven’t noticed?!” he bellowed, gesturing down at himself. 

Lily recoiled slightly, “B-but how?” 

“I don’t know! It-it just happened!”  

She held up her hands, “Okay! Could you please try and calm down?” 

“Calm down? Calm down?!” he got off his hands and knees and sat up, “Look at me!”  

Lily’s mouth dropped, backing away. Her raised hands were shaking. 

Jeremy faltered, guilt tugging at his heart at seeing her reaction. He slouched over, “I’m…. I’m sorry.” he looked pleading down at her. God, she looked so diminutive, “I….. I didn’t mean to… I don’t know what’s happening.” 

She lowered her hands, tilting her head, “did you think I would?” 

He waved a hand in exasperation, “I don’t know. Maybe. I just had no idea what to do. Have you ever seen or heard of anything like this?” 

“N-no” she breathed, “I’ve never…..” she stepped closer, scrutinizing him, “I’ve never seen anything like this.”  

As she got closer, Jeremy felt his face heating up. Lily wasn’t tall herself, far from it. It was something people often teased her about. The last time he asked about her height she had told him 4’11, but even that seemed a little generous. Still, it shocked him to see that even sitting he was taller than her. What the hell was this?  

His stomach growled loudly and his whole face went scarlet as Lily jumped back. He clamped a hand over it, looking back at her sheepishly. Why wouldn’t it shut up?!

“I….. I think we should maybe get some food in you.” She looked around the room, her eyes landing on the paper bag on the floor. She snatched it up and dug out a maple bar which she held up to him. He slowly raised his hand and took it, put off by the fact it was the size of a granola bar to him.  

Lily backed away as he ate the whole thing in one bite, “Okay.” she breathed, “Okay, we- we need to get you to a hospital or something.” she began to pace, “The closest one is what? A forty-five-minute drive? Because I really don’t think the clinic is what we need for uh… for this. I saw your Grandma’s truck outside. We could probably fit you in the boot? Yeah, that would work. And then-” 

Jeremy began to tune out her rambling. He licked his fingers clean of any glaze left from the maple bar while he eyed the fridge. 

“But what are they even going to do? Maybe take a look at your pituitary gland? But that would require an MRI and that would-” 

“Hey, Lily?” She paused and looked up at him, “I’m sorry but uh…. Can you grab me something out of the fridge or pantry?”   

She looked to her left and into the kitchen, her eyes landing on the torn-off cabinet door. 

“Did….. did you do that?” 

His cheeks went pink as he nodded. 

“Oh uh…. Sure thing.” 

“Thanks” he murmured as she headed over to the fridge. The floorboards creaked under his weight as he leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. Surely they’d get this all figured out. Hell, there was still even the chance this was all a bad- 

“Ack!” Jeremy flinched. A small bolt of burning pain had shot its way up his spine before it vanished. His hands flew back behind to rub the length of it.

Lily had rounded on him the moment he had shouted, clutching tightly to the carton of milk she had found, “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah. yeah, I think so,” he slapped a hand to his forehead, sighing and shaking his head, “I just thought- AUGHH!” 

That same burning pain erupted within his chest. Jeremy screamed, falling to the floor and clutching his chest as the pain spread. His eyes watered as it made its way to his arms and legs which twisted and convulsed, his hands and heels slamming into the floor as they writhed in agony. He couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. All he could think about was this abhorred sensation, this familiar sensation of every fiber of his being ripped apart while his ears were filled with the sickening sound of cracking and his own screams.  

It stopped. Just like before, all the pain disappeared within an instant.   

Jeremy’s chest rapidly rose and fell as he gasped for air, his heart was still beating like he had run a marathon. Beads of sweat trickled down his face. He removed his clammy hand from his chest to wipe his face, rolling over onto his back as he did. The floorboards creaked loudly beneath him. Staring up at the ceiling, he couldn’t help but feel like it looked different, closer.   

Lily, Lily was still here.  

“Lily?” he groaned. He pushed himself to sit up, “Lily? Wha- ack!” The top of his head smacked into something before he fully sat up. Oh no.   

He laid back down and stared up in horror at the ceiling that was definitely much closer. It felt like acid was creeping up his throat as it slowly began to dawn on him. When he had first felt that pain, what had happened? He had shot up a good five feet. Which could only mean…  

Jeremy slowly heaved himself up onto his elbows, shaking as his eyes landed on his own body. His heart plummeted into his stomach as his mouth fell open. What had been his shirt and shorts were now nothing but a few ripped-up scraps that clung loosely to his body. The only thing in tack on him now was somehow his boxers, but even those felt and looked pretty snug. His legs stretched across the room and were mere inches away from the front door. The umbrella stand that stood nearby was barely taller than the barefoot up next to it.    

“No, no no no no no,” he began to backpedal away from the door, his limbs trembling and fumbling around, “T-this isn’t- this isn’t-” he let out a panicked yelp when his hand accidentally came down upon one of the chairs around the dinner table. It instantly snapped and when he wrenched his hand up it was nothing but a broken mess of wood, “This isn’t- not again!”  

He whipped his head around the cramped space, finding it harder and harder to breathe the more he saw. This was insane! This wasn’t happening!   

Jeremy suddenly froze, his eyes landing upon a small figure crumpled on the floor, pressed up against the kitchen cupboards. Lily.   

The look on her face made his stomach churn. All the color had drained from her face, so pale she could have been mistaken for a corpse if she weren’t trembling and her eyes weren’t so alert.   

He looked himself over again, grimacing at the sight before hugging his legs up to himself and burying his head between his knees. “W-what’s happening to me?” his eyes began to water. He inhaled sharply, a tear streaking down his cheek that was quickly followed by another and then another.  

Within seconds, his face became a snot and tear-covered mess as he began to sob. He couldn’t stop himself, and it felt like the only thing he really could do.   

“I-I-I-I’m some sort of freak!” he wailed, voice cracking. He began grabbing at chunks of his hair, nails digging into his scalp deeper and deeper as he bailed his eyes out.  

“Jeremy?”  

He peeked between his legs through blurry eyes. Lily was now standing a few feet away, her hands raised as she inched closer. His eyes widened and he scooted away, shaking his head. 

She continued to come closer, “It’s okay. J-just calm down.” He gulped down another wave of sobs as she approached him, growing more and more unnerved at the sight of her standing before him, barely able to peek over his knees and see his face.  

Her hands came up and he suppressed the shiver that ran through him as they made contact with his face. He struggled to remain frozen while gazing into her soft eyes.  

“Breathe, okay? Just breathe” He did as he was told, averting his gaze and focusing in on his breathing. Gradually, his heart began to slow. It never stopped murmuring, but it at least didn’t feel like it was going to burst out of him, “Jeremy?” He forced himself to look Lily in the eye, his chest tightening at the sight of her so close, “It's… it’s gonna be okay, okay?” He heaved a sigh, she didn’t say that with much confidence. 

“W-what am I supposed to do?”  

[ms-demeanor]

my thing is I'm capable of any of this stuff up to at least level 3 and can do them for special occasions and if I've rested enough no problem, but I can't do it OFTEN because it just uses up too many spoons. any thoughts on this? besides practice, I already cook as often as I can (which is not very)

Mise en place your life as much as possible. I've talked about this before but this is what I do to make things easier on myself. My baking station with all the ingredients out and clearly labeled instead of at the bottom of the pantry where I have to dig for them makes it much, much, much easier to bake. My knife strip on the wall and the dozen cutting boards in a rack on the wall and the frying pan that lives on the stove instead of under the counter all make it much easier for me to cook.

Like, a lot of what I've been going through and doing in terms of home improvement/home decor is attempting to configure the house in such a way that large bastard and i can easily do the things we want to/need to do. We need batteries all the time, so the batteries live in an organized box where we can see it instead of in the back of the cabinet. We also need to *discard* batteries all the time, so the battery discard tub is right next to that box otherwise we'll start accumulating used batteries on surfaces.

The instruments that live on my kitchen counter are the ones that get used most often so that I don't need to go looking for them and so that I know at a glance if they're clean (if so they're in the canister on the counter) or need to be washed. The appliances that I use the most either live on the counter or get put places where it's convenient - I don't have enough bowls and plates that I need to use the top three shelves of my cabinet for bowls and plates like my parents did, but I do use my rice cooker twice a week so my rice cooker lives in the same cabinet as my dishes (as does my tofu press, my waffle maker, and the easiest-to-use 16oz food storage containers).

And you know what sometimes i just can't do it. Sometimes my back isn't working or my hip isn't working or i got glutened recently and I can't do much of anything.

I've got a variety of low spoon foods that I always have ingredients for (one recent addition to this list is tofu; i went from eating no tofu to eating tofu twice a week because two days a week i can't really use one of my arms to make dinner so i just prep the tofu at lunchtime and when i get home from the plasma center all i have to do is season and pan fry it and make a pot of rice. And I also make a shitload of extra rice because rice with eggs and sweet-spicy sauce is now one of my easiest and best go-to lunches) and whenever I make a pot of soup (something that I do pretty much every weekend when it's cool enough) I will make enough for lunch that week plus usually some extra to go in the freezer as backup "I don't feel like cooking" meals.

So, yeah I guess what I'm saying is get a good list of low-spoon foods that you like and can keep the ingredients handy for (ground beef goes bad in a week, tofu lasts like a month, i love tofu, it's so easy and so cheap to keep a bunch of tofu handy), and throw out the idea of what a kitchen is "supposed" to be like and figure out if there are ways to make your kitchen more adaptive for you.

Get anti-fatigue mats for your home kitchen. Get a tall stool that you can sit at while cooking at the stove instead of standing. Reorganize your cabinets for maximum efficiency for your needs. (large bastard and I have been doing this both with organized visible storage like wall racks as well as putting his stuff up high because bending over isn't easy for him but it is easy for me).

And also, like, consider if it's worth it, or how it can be worth it. How do you want to be a better cook? Do you want to be better at making meals for large groups or do you want to be more comfortable cooking for yourself or do you want a wider repertoire of recipes - all of those things will take a different path and some will be harder than others if you're wrangling disabilities that make it difficult to cook. I'm probably never going to be great at cooking for large groups because it doesn't really suit my lifestyle and it hurts! It hurts a lot and after hosting thanksgiving last year i needed to use my cane for a week because of how much it hurt my back! But I can work on stuff that makes it easier for me to cook, like having my baking station or keeping my rice cooker in an easy-to-reach cabinet.

[froggibus]

do u write for brig? i’m yearning rlly hard lately and i just wanna dance with her in the kitchen at like 2 am while we’re making some late night snacks, if u would be willing to write something like that ^-^ i hope you feel better!!

Midnight Snack - Brigitte

Pairing: Brigitte x gn! reader

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 670

Summary: after rescuing you from a marshmallow crisis, your girlfriend parades you around the kitchen while singing

CW: established relationship, reader is shorter than Brig (but Brig is like 6’0 lol), you wear Brig’s shirt, Brig carries you, lots of cute goofy fluff

yes I do write for Brig!! she’s only ever been in hcs as of now but this post changes that!! also thank you ^^ I am feeling much better after having a day to rest. thanks so much for the request lovely, hope you’re having a great day ! pls someone remind me to give this a proper banner in the morning

Brigitte looks up at you from her sandwich, a stray strand of brown hair casting a shadow across her face in the refrigerator light. She grants you a soft smile, smearing Nutella across the bread without even looking. 

“Baby, could you grab the marshmallow fluff from the cabinet, please?” 

You scrunch your nose. “Marshmallow fluff does not belong on a sandwich,” you say while you shuffle towards the cupboard. “It’s a good thing I love you.” 

You swing open the pantry door and squint your eyes into the dim light, scanning the shelves for the white jar. You spot it—on the highest shelf, of course. It taunts you from its place above your head, leaning just out of reach from your rising finger tips. 

Pushing up on your tip toes, you stretch as tall as you can, stretching your arm until it hurts. The t-shirt you borrowed from your girlfriend rises up over your thighs, threatening to reveal the seams of your underwear. 

“Babe? Everything alright in there?”

Your fingers grasp the jar just as Brigitte makes her way to the pantry. You go to cheer in triumph, forgetting you’re still on your toes, and lose your balance. Your weight shifts and you tumble backwards, grasping the jar of Jet-Puffed for dear life. 

You let out a squeak when Brig catches you, her strong arms enveloping you and tugging you tight to her chest. 

“Careful, careful!” She chastises, helping you get steady on your feet. She grabs your shoulders and spins you to face her. “Are you hurt?” 

“I’m fine,” you laugh. “Just freaked me out a bit.”

That’s not good enough for your girlfriend, though. She squints at you, running her hands up and down your arms while examining the rest of you with her eyes. Her tongue juts out in concentration in that cute way it always does. 

When she’s finally satisfied, she pulls away with a curt nod. “I think you’ll live.” She glances down to your hand, “how’s the marshmallow fluff?” 

You’d almost forgotten what it is you were going to get, the jar suddenly featherlight in your hand. You twist it around, examining it the way she’d just examined you. 

“I think it’ll live.”

She laughs and your heart takes flight, golden light pouring through your body and soothing you from the inside out. You step closer to her, standing cautiously on your toes once more to plant a chaste kiss to her lips. 

She smiles into it, the familiarity of her warmth sending butterflies to your tummy. Her hands trail down your arms, one of them wrapping around your palm and the other gripping the marshmallow jar. 

The callouses on her hand tickles your skin, making you clench your fingers around hers. “Babe,” you say quietly. 

She hums in response, her soft tone taking off in a song as she drags you closer to her. You have no time to react before she’s shuffling across the floor, humming louder as she pulls you along with her. 

You giggle at her antics. “Brig!” 

That only prompts her to open her mouth and start singing, and though she’s off key and giggling the words, it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. 

“Cause I don’t want the world to see me, cause I don’t think that they’d understand,” she sings, and her laughter is so contagious that you can’t help but sing along. 

The two of you continue to dance around the kitchen, stumbling your way through the dim light that the half moon offers through the window. You sing along with her, grateful to be alive for such a beautiful moment. 

Brig keeps singing until she’s gotten to the very last word of the song, offering you a big, goofy grin when she finally stops. She leans down once more and plants a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

You open your mouth to speak but pause when horror dawns across her face. “What’s wrong?”

“My sandwich is gonna be dry now,” she frowns. 

masterlist | overwatch masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

[neonponders]

Just a little something, inspired by @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse ~

• • •

Steve opened the door with his cheek full of sandwich. Unlike most people who have the sheriff on their stoop, he merely swallowed and went in for another bite. “Hey, sheriff. What’s going on?”

It took Steve too long to notice the shoebox in the man’s hands. His fingers lightly tapped on it until he glanced at it and decidedly stopped. “I don’t have any way of explaining things to you. All I know is that these should be with you. And. Uh...they refuse to be separated.”

Steve distantly wondered, Like magnets? in his mind as he accepted the box -

“Don’t open it out here,” Hopper warned. “Take them inside. Water, food, the works. Listen, this happened on the worst day because I gotta go. But you have my number.”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve answered by default, feeling supremely lost but not wanting to be an obstacle. If Hopper was delivering something in a shoebox that needed to be fed, how hard could it be?

He took the box to the kitchen and opened a cabinet for a plate with a tall brim. If it was chicks or something, they would need something they could drink out of without falling into...

Steve lifted the lid off the box and froze. He stared into alarmingly familiar brown eyes. If the past three years in Hawkins, Indiana hadn’t happened, he might’ve reacted badly, like flinching or yelling or something.

Now, though...he ventured a wary, “Hi?”

Perhaps if Hopper had given him a better description of what the box held, Steve would have thought of something cleverer to say to his tiny doppelganger. Because that’s exactly who he was seeing: a version of himself that was so small, he could fit on Steve’s palm, lying down.

The box was padded with a baby blanket on the bottom, and two plushies on either side, protecting the little ones - because there were two, Steve was realizing in staggered terror. Hopper had clearly stolen his secretary’s handkerchiefs and used a safety pin to toga-wrap them for some kind of clothing.

The little Steve sat down right on the other little one, who lay in a fetal position on the blanket. Big Steve realized all at once that the small one was glaring at him.

“I won’t hurt your friend,” he immediately softened. “Sorry, my name’s Steve.”

“My name’s Steve!”

Big Steve’s mouth hung, thoroughly at a loss for words. Well, they’re not babies...

Then he recovered, “That’s great! We’re the Steves. Is it okay that I get you some water and food? Is your friend okay?”

The large head underneath little Steve’s protective stance swiveled to point teary, but bright blue eyes at him. Once again, Steve felt like his brain just couldn’t keep up and hadn’t noticed in time that the other one’s hair was blond. Oh no...

Little Steve lowered to the blanket to huddle close to the other one. Maybe he thought he was whispering, but Steve heard clearly, “Biwwy? Food?”

Big Steve swallowed but kept his voice level and kind. They refuse to be separated.

“Billy? Do you know what your favorite food is?”

A single Fruit Loop would fill these guys up...

For all of the fear that Billy’s body language carried, his eyes were resilient and his bottom lip pushed up in a pathetic - and adorable - whimper. “Em nn Ms.”

“M&M’s?” Steve reiterated as he quickly ran through his memory of the fridge and pantry. He couldn’t imagine that the sheriff station had a lot of options “Coming right up. Are you two warm enough?”

“We’wre naked, dumb ass!”

“Wow,” Steve croaked as he hid the original water dish in the sink and went for the shot glasses. “You really remind me of someone.”

With the electric kettle, he warmed up some water with honey and set the glass in the box. “Be gentle, okay? It’s a little hot but you need to drink some water and it will keep you warm. We’ll work on getting you guys clothes later.”

“Biwwy wants emm and emms!” little Steve shouted, his voice cracking a little.

Steve put his elbows on the counter to be more on their level. “I know, but I need an extra minute. Don’t strain your voice. I can hear you really well, I promise.”

Delicate slurping filled the air as he ripped open an M&M’s package and cut through the peanuts before it occurred to him that people have nut allergies. “Do you two happen to have any allergies?”

Billy answered, “Awergic to people bein’ pokey!”

Steve inhaled for patience. “Do you like chocolate M&M’s or peanut M&M’s?”

“The rwed ones!”

“Okay, but is there something crunchy in the middle or not?”

“Why wouldn’t there be?”

Steve finished cutting a couple of candies in half and set them next to the shot glass. Billy chomped contently over the candies while Steve cracked an egg into a bowl and got a pan onto the stove. The glass chiming of the whisk made two heads perk up over the edge of the box, using one of the plushes as a stepladder. “Steve?”

He looked at his smaller version. “Yeah?”

“What’s that?”

“I’m making a scrambled egg for us. You need more than M&M’s to keep that hair shiny.”

Tiny hands sandwiched his head as he considered that, but little Billy scrutinized him with lips pressed into a discontent line. “Are scwambled eggs good?”

“They’re my favorite.”

Billy looked at the smaller Steve as if both Steves were one and the same. Then he waved a little hand in the air, summoning. “Pick me up! I wanna see.”

“Hang on, hang on, the stove is too hot to risk you getting too close. I’ll move the box. Hang on tight.”

Ever so gently, Steve grasped the box and picked them up to set them on the counter beside the stove. The small Billy and Steve didn’t hang onto the box, though. They put their arms around each other, and held onto Steve’s thumbs hooked on the edge of the box.

The living heat radiating from those little hands into Steve’s skin made his heart break and stitch itself back up at the same time. All at once, these two...humans? Creatures? Were very real, and Steve was in very deep shit.

[puckarchives]

the pop-tart debacle: l. hughes

blurb: this entire idea is based off of clips from The Basement Yard Podcast, which I will be using (for all self-indulging purposes,) as markers in which these conversations are based off of. this one is based off of episode #388 (no warnings, just minor cussing and mentions of drunkness/alcohol consumption!)  / word count: 1.04k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

To be entirely fair, the conversation had stemmed from a half-drunk thought and a craving for strawberry flavored Pop-Tarts. We had just gotten home from a night of babysitting the children of an old college friend, and Luke and I found ourselves sitting in our kitchen, drinking the last of the wine I had bought a few weeks ago. Two cups in, however, the craving for the sugar-filled pockets popped up, and, looking over at Luke, I tried to formulate the thoughts into a coherent sentence. 

“Luke, sweetheart, do we have any more of those Pop-Tarts that Jack left the other day? The strawberry ones?” I had asked, not really needed a lengthy response, but simply an assurance that he had heard me over his own space on the kitchen island. 

Looking over, however, the 6’2 defenseman giggled at me, obviously somehow inebriated as he tended to turn into a sappy, almost touchy-drunk on the occasion that we had a glass of wine, and I could tell by the flush of his cheeks that it was definitely what was occurring. 

“The strawberry ones? Jacky left them here? We need to throw them out— right now honey,” he said, standing up from his seated position, and walking over to the kitchen pantry. I watched as he passed me, sliding his hand over my lower back to ensure that he wouldn’t bump into me, and as he opened the cabinet doors. 

“Throw them out? Why would we do that?” I asked. “He left literally a whole box full the other day when you guys had that sleepover,” I told him. 

The Hughes Brother Sleepovers— a thing that had come to be early on in the boys’ careers, was pretty self-explanatory. Once a month, either Luke, Quinn, or Jack would host their brothers and friends at their house, and like children, build a fort in the living room and have— you guessed it— a sleepover. It was something that warms my heart every time I thought about it— about how much Luke truly loved and cared for his brothers, and how the other boys weren’t scared to show that type of affection; hell, even Quinn, as quiet as he was, would still hug Luke as tight as he could when he first saw him, and just as tight before he left. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, but the strawberry ones are literally the worst,” he said, turning around after rummaging in the pantry, and looking back at me with said box in his hand. Just like I had thought, the box of Pop-Tarts was held in his right hand, and his face had contorted into a look of disgust, making me laugh out loud. 

“What the hell do you have against strawberry Pop-Tarts? They’re the only meaningful flavor— and don’t you dare pull out that Frosted Confetti I KNOW you have hidden behind the rice box, Luke!” I playfully replied back, watching as his own face got a bit red at having been caught. 

“You know about those?” he asked, walking towards me, with my prize still in his hand. He handed over the box, and then walked back once again to the pantry— grabbing said box of not only Frosted Confetti Pop-Tarts, but also the Mixed Berry ones as well; a sight I could only laugh at— a 6’2 hulking mass of a man, who played professional hockey and was always overshadowing everyone else, with two boxes of children’s breakfast foods in his hands, and a slight flush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. God, the gall of this man to pull out those two flavors, I thought. Literally the worst flavors!  

“Of course I do! As tall as you are, you are literally the most obvious person too, Lu. Also, I might have seen Quinn grab that same box once during one of your sleepovers. He told me to pretend I never saw anything, but I would NEVER forget that level of treason,” I joked. 

“Well, it might not have the Spider-Man webbing on them, but you know I’m gonna shove it down my throat” he said right back, and I could just tell that the red wine was getting to him. Not only was he a much more affectionate drunk, but he also got a lot more loose with his curse words— slipping out casual f-bombs and “shits” when he wasn’t caught up in being proper all the time. 

“That’s a very aggressive statement– you know what? Never mind,” I said, simply plucking out my own strawberry flavored pastry out of it’s sleeve. “You can believe anything you want, AS LONG as you don’t even come CLOSE to hating on my Brown Sugar Cinnamon ones, capiche?” I told him. Instead of answering me, however, he seemed to be rambling on to himself about the pastries he now held in his hands— wrappers long forgotten on the island behind him, and held a Mixed Berry Pop-Tart up to my face, cradling it in his hands as if it was something much more valuable than a literal toaster pastry.

“Three good sources of B Vitamins—” he started, still raving about the desert. 

“Oh my fucking Lord,” I reponded, only rolling my eyes as I continued to stuff my own strawberry strudel into my mouth, and watched him practically swoon over it.

“Fuck you, these are still better! It’s like I’m in an early 2000’s Taco Bell again!” he said; but that wasn’t really what astounded me; instead, it was the way he bit into the Pop-Tart that had my mouth gaping open. 

My boyfriend, the love of my life and man that I was hoping to marry one day, had turned the Pop-Tart on its side, and had taken consecutive bites around the edges of the patry’s crust. Instead of simply biting the Pop-Tart, he had instead opted to eat the entirety of the border, and then, when he must have noticed that I was looking at him, looked up and stuffed the rest of his mouth, sans the crust. 

“Luke.” I said, point-blank. “Luke Warren Hughes.”

“Yesh?” he said, his words muffled by the literal pastry he had just stuffed into his mouth. 

“What the hell did you just do?” I asked, only to get a laugh in return

[author's note: this has minimal editing because i hated rereading this and could not come to scrap it for the life of me lmao. like i'm sorry but what is this]

[justsescape]

You took too long to feed her, so she drank all of the milk you had stockpiled. And ate all of the food.

Your fault, you get to explain why she did it.

A refrigerator overturned; a pantry emptied; a chair collapsed. Asuka sprawled out over her percolating gut in the same way someone belly flops on to their mattress after a long, exhausting day. After all, it was certainly big enough now to serve as a bed. Her rotund middle rose nearly as tall as the kitchen island and squished itself against the nearest cabinets. If they hadn't already been emptied, they certainly would be soon.

"Juhst is... HYIC-ORP!... alwaysh late..." Asuka licked at the greasy fingertips of one hand while the other dangled into a bag of potato chips. "It'sh hish fault I'm sho fatsh... keeping sho little food aroundsh... he neverrRERUUUEUUUUEEEERRRP!"

Sentences ended at the whims of her numerous noxious belches. They came on suddenly, abruptly, leaving saliva dotting her cleavage like she had just stepped out into the rain. Not that she'd be stepping anywhere anytime soon, anyway. Until she digested her latest binge, she was beached upon her stomach with only emptied milk gallons and licked-clean plates as her companions. Her stomach gurgled like a chemist's science experiment.

"He bettersh bring more food home tonightsh..." Asuka's body was still swaying back and forth in the wake of her forceful burp. To lay upon her gut was not dissimilar from laying on an inflatable pool float. "To make up for... HIC-URP!... HYIC-ORP!... HYICK-EEEUUURP!... being late againsh..."