#that was short but hopefully sweet?

[owl127]

I had this vision of Clarke and Lexa (omega verse) inviting Abby and her boyfriend to a 1 week trip in the forest of at the beach, and they’re in this cute cute cabin together, it’s really nice, and their bedroom is close to one another, however Clarke and Lexa discreetly asked if the walls were thick which the owner said yes, so one night Clarke and Lexa get in ON like for easily 1 hour right, several times, and the next morning Abby and her boyfriend look at them like 👁️👄👁️, they could hear even what was softly said, so the FILTHY things they said did not fall in deaf ears.

Lexa could be quite uptight with Abby as she’s intimidated by her, like Clarke is her only child and all, so Lexas always very proper with minimal pda you Know…

If you still take promps, could you maybe do this one ?

The insistent call of early birds is what brings Lexa back from a dreamless sleep. She blinks awake in the unfamiliar room, the low wooden ceiling welcoming her morning. She stretches like a lazy cat, and the source of warmth on her back hums at her ear.

"Good morning," Clarke whispers hoarsely, their naked legs intertwining under the fur blanket. Lexa turns and kisses Clarke good morning, teasing sleep away with another kiss on her neck. "For the love of god, I can’t go again," Clarke protests as Lexa continues to kiss her collarbone. "I’m ridiculously sore, babe."

"You okay?" Lexa asks behind the curtain of wild curls, and Clarke nods.

"Yeah, but give me a break, okay? Last night was..." She bites her lips, and Lexa follows the movement with a bite of her own.

"Good?" Lexa grunts on a marked neck.

"Very good." They meet for another kiss.

The sound of pans and cutlery cuts through their quiet room. "I think my mom and Kane are already up." Clarke bumps their noses and leans down for a long, sleepy yawn. "I could go for eggs."

"Or bacon," Lexa agrees, and they make their slow way to the bathroom.

Eggs are sizzling in the kitchen by the time the couple trots down the stairs in search of breakfast.

"Smells good!" Clarke sits by the kitchen island as Lexa sets the table. Marcus, one hand working on pancake batter and the other on the eggs, turns to offer them a smile.

"Good morning, ladies!" His teeth shine between a trimmed beard.

"Where’s mom?" Clarke asks with a grape in her mouth, eyeing the pancake toppings on the island.

Marcus turns back to the stove. "She went for a run."

"This early? That’s not like her."

"She didn’t sleep very well," Marcus says, mostly to the stove, and checks through the cabin window. "Okay, let me just get it out of the way before she’s back." He makes a 180 with his pink apron in place and joins his hands over his chest. "Let’s just say," Marcus starts, his beard not being enough to cover his blush, "the walls in this cabin are thin."

The sound of porcelain shattering on wood breaks the silence that followed Marcus’ statement. Clarke looks back to see Lexa, so red she’s purple, shocked still as the plate she was holding is now in pieces on the floor.

"We know you’re adults," Marcus continues, "but you’re her only child, Clarke, and her little omega girl."

Lexa sits heavily on the table, her once-red face now turning pale.

Clarke moves into damage control mode.

"Babe." She sits in the chair next to Lexa, who keeps staring at nothing, unresponsive. "Babe, it’s okay. We’re married. My mom knows—"

"Your mother heard us," Lexa whispers almost to herself.

"We don’t know how much she heard."

"Very much," Marcus adds unhelpfully. "By the way, kudos."

"Marcus, please," Clarke shoots back at her mother’s boyfriend, eyeing her PTSD-wife, and Marcus shrugs.

"Lexa," Clarke says, touching her wife’s hand, and it’s cold. "That won’t change how my mom sees you. Okay, she heard a couple things—"

"Lots of things."

"Kane, you’re not helping!" Clarke shouts, and it is at that moment that the cabin’s door opens to reveal Abby Griffin, dressed in winter sports gear, sweat evaporating from her temples. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and she mumbles good morning without meeting Clarke’s eyes.

"I’ll help with food," Abby adds, and she kisses Marcus’ cheek as she heaps eggs onto plates.

By the time the four of them sit at the table, the silence is unbearable. Lexa can barely move, her eyes cast down; Clarke tries to find her mother’s eyes, but the older alpha avoids them every time. Kane seems to be the only one immune to the tension, happily flooding his plate with syrup.

"All right," Kane declares, feeling pitiful at Lexa’s almost catatonic state. "Let’s address this as adults; otherwise, we won’t survive the rest of the weekend."

"Marcus, no," Abby says, still avoiding her daughter and daughter-in-law. Lexa whimpers.

"Abby"—Marcus takes a bite of his pancake—"Clarke is 28. She’s married. We all know they have sex."

Lexa chokes on nothing while Abby growls softly at the back of her throat. Clarke blushes furiously but nods.

"Maybe before last night, we didn’t know for how long or the details—"

"Marcus!" Abby hits her glass on the table, and OJ flies everywhere.

"What I mean," Marcus continues, licking a drop of orange juice from his beard, "is that we are all adults and we can recover from this. Right, Clarke?"

"We didn’t know we were being loud," Clarke justifies, reaching for coffee. "We never meant to make you uncomfortable, mom."

"We still have a couple nights here, so just... please keep it down. You’re my pup." Abby finally meets her daughter’s eyes. Marcus nudges his girlfriend, and Abby apologizes, "I’m sorry for overreacting."

"It’s alright. I’m more worried about Lexa." Clarke points at her wife with her chin. "I think she’s still in shock."

Abby eyes Lexa up and down, and Lexa melts down in her chair a little bit.

"Mom, stop."

"I didn’t do anything."

"She can’t even touch me right now."

"Good."

"Abby, let the kids be kids."

"If your father were here...

"He would have laughed about it."

"I don’t know, Abby. Clarke didn’t sound like she needed a new daddy last night."

Lexa continued to melt down her chair, and Abby choked on juice.

"Too soon?" Kane places another forkful of pancakes in his mouth. "At least you know grandpups will be coming soon," he adds through a mouthful.

"Oh, god," Lexa whispers before passing out.

[vynnyal]

Turns out Sunlit Trail isn't quite done just yet, so after all that they just send you to a dead end 😂

[milliesfishes]

still have yet to read the book yet (probably will this weekend) but maybe something like you getting hurt on your vacation?? like i can imagine maybe you step on coral and get your foot cut real bad and so then there is the comforty fluffy part of him carrying you around so you don’t have to walk after the angst of him trying to get you to relax when you’re panicking at all the blood (little no clue if this is in character but it’s cute regardless lmao)

this is from. a long time ago. but it's cute I love you Phantom🫶

⋆౨ৎyou get hurt on vacation with alex⋆౨ৎ fem reader x alex nilsen

Blood on the floor. You cursed yourself when you saw it trickling from your shoe, trying to lift your foot so there was less damage. The motel staff had enough to deal with without you bleeding all over the place.

Limping to the bathroom, you clenched your jaw as the pain sharpened on the underside of your foot. Trying to take deep breaths, you sat on the counter, leaning back against the mirror. It was cool against your head, and you tried to focus on that.

Your heart was stuttering in your chest as your breathing became shaky. Still salt-combed from the sea, your hair was dripping pearls of water down your shoulders onto your breasts. You hadn't bothered to put your shorts or tank top back on, mind too preoccupied with the problem at hand.

Were there even bandages in here? You doubted it. Kicking off your ruined shoes, you bent your leg so the damaged foot was resting on the counter. Reaching for a washcloth, you cringed as your blood stained it, but held it in place, putting pressure on the wound. Biting the inside of your cheek when the fabric met the gash, you held back a cry. It hurt, more than you'd have expected it to.

The door opened and shut, and you barely noticed. Eyes closed, you were trying to center yourself, somehow make the pain go away. Maybe if you focused, you would get used to it.

"Babe?"

You looked up, accidentally letting a tear slide down your cheek. It could have been mistaken for the other droplets on your face. Alex was standing in the bathroom doorway in his running shorts and shirt, earbuds and phone in hand. His collar was sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead. Seeing his furrowed brow, you had the urge to smooth it out with your thumb.

"I'm okay Alex, I just-" He was already coming over, setting his phone on the counter with a clatter and leaning over to examine your foot. The washcloth had a big red spot in it where the blood had soaked through.

He tried to be gentle as he peeled it away, but you whimpered, grabbing his wrist. "Don't."

"Shh, I know, I know it hurts," he soothed, voice soft. Alex very carefully removed the rest, your hand squeezing his wrist the whole time. You took in shaky breaths as he held your foot, lowering it from the counter as he knelt in front of you. His touch was so delicate that you almost cried for a different reason. When he looked up at you, blue eyes so worried, you did shed another tear and he lifted his other hand to your knee, rubbing gently. "What happened?"

Sniffling, you brushed away another tear. Somehow his presence numbed some of the pain. Or maybe it was your anxiety put at ease because he was here. Either way, you didn't feel as hopeless anymore. "I just wanted to go swimming...and when I got out...there was a sharp rock and I didn't see it..." You swallowed, trying not to cry more. "This is gonna ruin the rest of our trip-"

"No, no," Alex shook his head, his expression reassuring. "Sweetheart, it's not gonna ruin anything. This is just another adventure, okay?" His thumb drew a soothing pattern into your knee. "We're gonna laugh about this someday, right?" He was repeating something you'd said to him several times when something bad happened, and it made your lips turn up a tiny bit.

Alex reached for a clean washcloth, folding it over and holding it carefully to your wound. He leaned up, kissing your knee, resting his chin there. Your shoulders slumped and you smoothed back his hair, as a distraction. Leaning his head forward, he dropped his lips to your lower thigh, nose smushing there.

For a moment it was just that- his head on your leg, hands gently holding the washcloth to your foot. You breathed in softly, the weight of his head on your bare leg a comforting thing.

Lifting his head, Alex put one hand on your knee, scratching gently as he took another look at the gash. "Okay. It doesn't look too deep, it's just bleeding a lot." He reached for your hand, kissing the knuckles. "I'm gonna go see if the front desk has any bandages, okay? Will you be alright for a minute?" When you nodded, he tucked your leg back into its original position, making sure you were holding the washcloth before he let go.

Kissing you on the forehead, he left with the promise to be back soon. You breathed easier, leaning against the mirror again. It was miraculous how he could fix what had felt like the end of the world.

When he returned, bandages in hand, it was like your guardian angel had arrived. Alex stood this time, dabbing medicine onto the gash, wrapping your foot snugly and bending over to kiss it once he was done. "There. All better, cutie." He hooked his hands under your knees, sliding you forward so they were hooked around his hips. "C'mere."

You sniffled, leaning into him as he hugged you tight, hardly registering how sweaty he still was. With your head in the crook of his shoulder, you realized now it was less leftover from his run and more because he was worried. You clung to him tighter once you realized.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, rubbing his hand up your back. "I'm gonna shower really quick. Do you wanna go back to the bedroom or stay here?"

"Here," you decided immediately, crossing your ankles over his back.

"Okay." Alex squeezed your thigh, gently removing your legs and disappearing into the other room. He kicked off his running shoes on the way, leaving them by the door. You heard the drawers opening and closing, and then he was returning with clothes for both of you, underwear included. "Here, you can take your swimsuit off." He chucked you under the chin, thumb lingering. "It looks pretty, but I know you wanna get out of it."

Smiling lovingly at him, you returned his kiss when he gave it. While he stripped himself of his clothes, you worked your swimsuit off, replacing it with your underwear. He handed you your hairbrush when you reached for it, leaning over to start the shower. You pulled the brush through your hair, giving him a squinty-eyed smile when he kissed your cheek before pulling back the curtain and getting in.

He showered quickly, and when he got out, hair curly and sticking to his forehead, you were fully dressed, hair brushed out and drying. Alex toweled off and pulled his clothes on, reaching for you and murmuring, "Still hurting?"

"A little," you admitted, not wanting to make it seem worse than it really was. "Just...it's okay. I can probably walk on it."

"Uh uh." Alex pulled you forward and re-wrapped your legs around him. "You shouldn't have to walk at all right now." He lifted you off the counter, carrying you into the next room. When you opened your mouth to protest, he silenced you with a kiss to your nose. "I took my pills. It's fine."

Though the logistics were shaky, the walk was so short that you didn't say anything more. He set you down, easing a pillow under your foot and grabbing his laptop, starting to type with one hand while sliding his other arm around you. "We'll watch one movie and then we can try walking, okay?"

You cuddled under his arm, pressing a kiss to his chest and resting your head there. Already, your foot was starting to throb a little less. He kissed your forehead as the opening credits began to roll on his laptop, running his hand up and down your arm.

His skin was warm from his shower, and you inhaled softly, the scent of his soap only calming you further. And as he held you close, checking in every few minutes and looking over at your foot, you got the overwhelming sense that he would always take care of you.

No matter what.

[monzamash]

getting ready for a date night with charles and he’s giving you the fattest googly eyes ever. like he’s can’t stop staring, which ends up making you a bit shy but he tries to reassure you that it’s because you look so beautiful and he’s literally sooo head over heels

even though i'm almost certain that charles is the kind of guy that perches on the end of your bed while you're getting ready, eyes glued to his phone because he can't go two seconds without knowing the group chat gossip — sometimes, the view of his breathtaking girlfriend was the perfect distraction. he simply needed to look up.

"you look gorgeous, chèrie", he would gush, awestruck as you applied the last layer of lipstick and checked you had everything in your handbag. "thank you sweetheart — don't look half bad yourself". you always blushed at his compliments, shy smile tickling the corners of your lips and charles was the same. both of you were so enamoured, blissfully in love and it only took one long stride before his arms were wrapped around your waist — tugging you into his chest with a hefty groan.

"don't start something you can't finish." you warned quietly as charles ghosted a kiss to your bare shoulder, delicately adjusting the thin strap holding up your beautiful dress with his finger. "shh, i just need you to know how beautiful you are."

[doodleodds]

Happy Valentines, Akira. Happy Valentines, Asshole.

If you can’t read what Akechi’s secondary inner-dialogue says cause I obscured it too much behind his regular dialogue, here’s a transcription in panel order: Hello, you fucking- Ah- Hello, Akira! Fuck off, why should I tell you- Just a soda- there’s a new flavor.

I don’t want your shitty gift. Oh- haha! You’re so sweet.

I hope I choke. They’re lovely, thank you.

Like hell. Likewise. There’s no way it’s just a coincidence. Still though, it’s a funny coincidence.

[mostlyghostlyy]

Having a bad time after watching a movie that made me terribly uncomfortable. How would Dale react to that? I know he’s probably be a little bad at comforting but, I need his big arms around me. I’m grossed out and sad by a stupid movie.

It's Britney bitch

-

Dale would be so giddy. Ecstatic and keening. Watching your outpouring of emotion triggers elated gasps and poorly hidden giggles. Bleary-eyed and quivering voice while you complain about how the movie made you feel, he'll eat it up. If only you could see how sensitive you look right now, absolutely immaculate.

I can't imagine he'd take his hands off of you, kissing at your face and tasting the salt of your tears. I think he'd get pretty turned on by your flushed cheeks and fluttering wet lashes. Many of these nights will end with him "comforting" you in the only way he knows how (if you know what I mean)

I think he'd try to comfort you to an extent. Loving how you cling to him for protection or comfort. "There, there, Little Angel," smiling smugly and rubbing circles into your back. "It's just a movie." All the while relishing the attention you're lathering on him, hanging off his every word. If the movie was about a lover dying/breaking up, he'll promise you over and over that he would never leave (and you better do the same for him)

The first time he sees you tear up, he'd probably be at a loss for words/actions. Awkwardly putting his arm around you with a gentle word of comfort. Only when you cling to him does he start to warm up to his newfound role. Deciding that he likes this attention and maybe he should start looking for more sappy and sad movies.

[hearts-hunger]

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Taglist Form

Summary: For Josh, home is where you are. | Standalone in the Cabin Fever universe

Pairings: Josh x Wife! Reader (Josh POV) | Genres: domestic fluff, angst, hurt/comfort | Word Count: 3k | Warnings: a little mention of spice

A/N: I loved Josh's most recent insta caption about the stage being his ethereal living room he gets to share with us, but I also love hurt/comfort, so I made it angsty and fluffy for Josh and Baby. I hope you like it! ♡

��The stage is your ‘ethereal living room’?”

Josh looked up from the charcuterie board he was meticulously arranging to see you on your phone, presumably scrolling through the concert pictures he’d posted half an hour ago. He smiled.

“Yeah, you know.” He tapped a row of crackers into line until they were perfect. “The shows are a place where people come together to enjoy each other’s company. Somewhere that feels like home.”

You didn’t say anything. He glanced up at you again.

“Ethereal means — ”

“I know what ethereal means, Josh.” Your face went pink. “It’s just not usually a word you use to describe a living room.”

He was a little surprised at your tone; it bordered on sounding upset, but maybe that was just because he’d embarrassed you, though he certainly hadn’t meant to.

“I was just trying to help, baby,” he said gently. He tried for some humor. “And you’re right, it’s not usually a word you’d use to describe a living room. Definitely not our living room in the state it’s been in lately.”

That had the opposite of the intended effect, and he wished he could take it back when your face fell. “You don’t think it’s ready for tonight?”

“No, no,” he said quickly. “It’s ready now. Everything looks great. I just meant that we haven’t been as good about tidying every night, so it’s been a wreck recently.”

“Right,” you said, but it was doubtful and tense. “Well, I tried to get most of it done while you were at work — ”

“I know, baby.” He felt that he’d botched this conversation pretty badly, but you also seemed much more sensitive than you usually were. “It was a huge help, and I’m grateful that you did most of the cleaning when we made the mess together.”

“I didn’t make it quite as ethereal as a concert, though,” you said, and your laugh was a little strained.

He wondered at your fixation on the wording of his caption, but maybe you were trying to make it into a running joke.

“The Kiszkas wouldn’t know what to do with a living room too perfect for this world,” he teased. He set the board on the other side of the island and went hunting for the wine glasses. “Could you grab me the corkscrew, honey?”

You did as he said, but there was a pensiveness to your body language that made him worry. You’d been in a great mood all day, his happy bubbly girl, spending the day shopping and tidying and preparing for the dinner party you were hosting. Jake, Sparrow, Sam, and Danny were due to arrive any time now, and Josh had thoroughly enjoyed spending time with you after work getting your home ready for your family. He didn’t know what had brought on this sudden change in mood, and he racked his brain for what could have caused it and what he could do to fix it.

“Dessert smells really good,” he said sincerely. “Did you end up putting the strawberries in there too?”

You handed him the corkscrew and stood uneasily as he opened the Riesling, toying with the sleeve of your pretty dress.

“No,” you said quietly. “It’s just regular blackberry cobbler. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

A frown tugged at his features. “I don’t,” he said. He popped the cork out.  “Of course I don’t mind. That sounds great, honey.”

“It’s not very exciting,” you said apologetically.

He didn’t know where this was going. Surely you weren’t upset about the dessert you’d made, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what you really were upset about. He decided to stick with his usual strategy, which was mostly just continuing to be sweet to you. 

“I don’t need exciting, baby,” he said, kissing your cheek. “It’ll be perfect. I can’t wait to try it.”

Working together, but without your usual quips and jokes back and forth, you and Josh put the finishing touches on dinner before the doorbell rang. Josh put his dishtowel over his shoulder and went to welcome your guests in, and he was happy that you joined him.

“You look beautiful, baby,” he said. “I love that dress on you.”

You touched a hand to the neckline of your summery black dress patterned with little red cherries. “Oh, well, it’s only a sundress. But... thank you.” The usual enthusiastic enjoyment of his compliments he loved hearing was nowhere in your voice. He wished he could wait to open the door and ask what was bothering you, but the doorbell was now accompanied by rhythmic knocking the type of which only a drummer could deliver. 

“I’m telling you,” Josh said, trying one last-ditch attempt to coax a smile out of you. “This ethereal living room business — it’s better if it’s just our plain old living room with these hooligans.”

The smile you gave him was clearly only for his sake, not even reaching your eyes. Discouraged and unable to stall any longer, he turned the door handle. 

“I didn’t mean to push this on you,” you blurted. Your expression was anxious and regretful. “I’m sorry, Josh.”

By the time he’d processed what you’d said, the door was already open, and your family was coming inside full of laughter and bearing gifts of wine and appetizers and card games to play. He wanted to jump right into the festive atmosphere his brothers and sister-in-law brought with them, but he was completely preoccupied by your blurted-out apology for... what? What could you have to be sorry for? He looked across the foyer and felt his heart twist when he saw your strained smile as you welcomed your family inside.

“Alright, Kiszkas,” he said with more levity than he felt. He ushered everyone into the living room, pointing out the drinks and snacks on the kitchen island. “Eat, drink, and be merry. Dinner’s almost ready.” 

He asked Danny to watch the sauce simmering on the back of the stove, wanting to try and get a moment with you before dinner. He left Sparrow and his brothers chatting and snacking in the kitchen and found you in the dining room, double-checking the place settings you’d already made perfect an hour before.

“Baby,” he said gently. “What did you mean, you’re sorry for ‘pushing this on me’? Did you mean dinner?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I should have asked you before I planned it.”

He leaned against the doorframe. “You did ask me. Didn’t you?”

“I don’t think so,” you said sheepishly. “I think I just told you I was doing it, and you went along with it.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t mind,” he said sincerely. “I’m glad you planned it.” He debated giving you space or pressing a little deeper, and he risked the latter. He came around the table to the side where you stood.

“I’m glad we’re all spending time together,” he said. He took your hands in his. “I’d like to enjoy it with you, too, but I wouldn't be happy if you were unhappy.”

“I’m not unhappy,” you lied.

“Baby,” he chided tenderly. “You’ve been out of sorts for a little bit now, and I want to help you get back into sorts. I just don’t know how.”

You looked up at him. “Are you sure you’re happy with... all this?”

He raised a brow. “Dinner? Or, like, the universe as a whole?”

You sighed. “No, I mean... do you like being home? Maybe it’s a little lackluster after touring.”

“That could not be farther from the truth,” he said, without a moment’s hesitation. Was that all that was bothering you? 

“Silly girl,” he said with a smile. “Of course I like being home. I love being home.”

“But it’s... it’s just... me,” you said lamely. “Just our house.”

“I’m still not seeing a problem,” he said, affectionately teasing. “I love you, and I love our house, especially when it has all the people we love in it drinking all our wine.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment. Then — “Are you sure?”

For a moment, he couldn’t think of anything to say. He felt a surprisingly sharp flash of hurt at your doubt. He tamped it down to focus on you, his sweet wife, who apparently felt that his homecoming had been spent wishing he was back out on the road.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he finally said. He cupped your face in his hands, reading something sad and needful in your expression but unable to figure out how to fix it. “I love being home with you, baby. I miss you so much when I’m away. You don’t know that?”

He saw your eyes sparkle with tears and wished desperately he could understand how it had gotten this bad, wished he could figure out how to fix it.

“Hey,” he said softly. He kissed you. “I love you. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

“But it’s not — ”

“It’s perfect,” he said, gently cutting across your protest. “And though I love the way you open our home to our family, even just being with you, eating takeout in our pajamas, would have been perfect too.”

You gave him a watery smile at that, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“There’s that smile,” he said tenderly. He brushed the tears from your face. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t enough, baby. You're everything to me. You’re my heart. You know that, don’t you?”

You nodded and kissed him, and he was so happy to have helped even a little. He’d probably ask about it again, try to understand what had made you think such a thing so that you'd never have to think it again. For now, though, your family was waiting, and you seemed eager now to get back to them.

“Don't tell them I was crying,” you said, running your hands over your cheeks, trying to hide the telltale signs. “Tell them we were having a quickie or something.”

He chuckled. “I'm not sure I’m skilled enough for that to be believable, baby. Less than five minutes is a lot to ask.” He kissed your cheek. “And I won’t tell them you were crying. That’s between you and me.” To his way of thinking, a husband's job was to protect his wife at her most vulnerable, not to expose her. These moments between you, the words and soft touches and intimacy you shared — those were just for the two of you, and Josh treasured the privilege of being the one you shared yourself with when you needed a little extra love.

You took his hand, and when he was sure you were ready, he led you back out to where your family waited. 

He saw you return to your usual self as the night went on, and he loved to hear your laugh and watch your smile light up your face as you spent time with your family. Sam, Danny, Jake, and Sparrow — they never failed to bring warmth and light with them wherever they went, and Josh knew that there was no better medicine than their terrible jokes and affectionate bickering and safe, easy love. You were always beautiful, but joy made you ravishing; you shone as brightly as the sun when you were happy, and he felt a weight come off his shoulders as you came back to yourself.

After dinner, you found a spot on the couch; as Josh went to fix glasses of wine for both of you, he watched the drama unfolding in the living room. Catty corner to you, Sam and Jake were playing guitar, Sam casually and Jake with characteristic seriousness; Sparrow sat perched on the arm of Sam’s chair, and Danny sat on the floor.

“Watch him,” Danny said, slipping a hair tie from his wrist and aiming it like a slingshot at Jake. “I bet he won’t stop playing.”

“No, Danny!” Sparrow giggled around the straw stuck in her wine glass. “That would be so mean to my poor Jakey.”

“He wont’ even notice,” Danny said, unable to hide an impish smile. “Watch.”

He shot the hair tie at Jake, and it popped him on the forehead before tumbling down the guitar and landing on the floor. Jake didn’t miss a beat.

Danny and Sparrow dissolved in uproarious laughter, and Jake merely rolled his eyes with a telltale smile.

“You’re all idiots,” he said.

“Not me!” Sam protested. He watched Jake’s fingers, invested in learning the tune now. “I’m trying to play with you, but geez, can you dial it down from rock god so I can figure it out?”

Jake slowed his playing, talking Sam through the notes, and good-naturedly accepted a kiss on his forehead from Sparrow. Danny tried to find the hair tie again and hit Sam with it when he did, earning himself a nudge with Sam’s foot that made Danny laugh and lean his head against Sam’s knee in apology.

Josh brought your drinks over to the couch and handed yours to you. “For you, baby.”

You accepted it gratefully and patted the spot next to you. “Thanks, honey. Come sit with me.”

He did, draping one arm over the back of the couch behind you, pleased when you scooched closer to him. He gave you a sweet, chaste kiss.

“Feeling better, baby?” he asked gently.

You couldn’t help a dull blush, but you gave him a bashful smile. “Yes. I’m sorry I was so... tearful earlier.”

“That’s alright, honey. Would you mind telling me what it was that got you so upset?”

You ran the pad of your thumb over the bottom of your wineglass. He was patient as he waited for you to gather your thoughts.

“It’s silly,” you said finally. “You’ll either laugh or be annoyed that I made such a big deal about it.”

He considered that. You usually took things in your stride, and neither of you made a habit of being offended or upset over trivial, accidental things. Whatever it was, it had hurt you, and he would validate that feeling no matter what it turned out to be.

“I promise I won’t laugh,” he said. “And I don't think I’ll be annoyed.” He really just wanted to know what it was, and he told you so.

Your nervous, wandering fingers found his, and he was content to let you play with his wedding ring. You brushed your thumb over the shiny gold surface.

“It was your caption,” you said. “You know, for those pictures you posted.”

He was bemused for a moment. “Oh. Really?”

“Yeah,” you admitted quietly. “There’s no greater feeling in the world than returning to the stage. It is my ethereal living room. A place where things feel lighter than air. I love you.”

If anyone had asked him to recite from memory the caption he’d written himself, he couldn't have done it. The fact that you knew it word for word told him you must have been saying it over and over again in your head since you’d read it.

He thought of the wording in light of your feelings and saw how it could have hurt you. It had been their first show back after a long break spent at home, and while you were in your plain old living room at home and missing him, he’d apparently been away in a much better living room doing much more exciting and wonderful things without you. Of course he hadn’t really been comparing a concert to the home he shared with you — it was only an Instagram caption, after all, and not a serious commentary on his life. But even though he felt it was reasonable for you to have known that, he also knew that sometimes the heart wasn’t reasonable.

He twined his fingers with yours. “Sweet baby,” he said. “I’m sorry it hurt you. It wasn’t my intention at all. I don’t know if it helps, but I wasn’t thinking about our real life living room when I wrote that. I just thought it sounded clever.”

“I know,” you said. You gave him a wobbly smile. “It was clever. It’s sweet. And the fans deserve a little love note from you. I just...”

“You just missed me,” he said, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. “I know, baby. I missed you too.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m sorry I made such a big deal out of it. I could have just been honest that I was upset. But really, I should have just taken it like you meant it and not started catastrophizing, thinking you weren’t happy at home.”

“Well, sometimes our imaginations run away with us,” he said, patient and kind. “For the record, I am happy at home with you, baby. You in your old sundress making regular blackberry cobbler is the kind of thing I dream about when I'm away from you. And if I could only have one, I’d pick our less-than-ethereal living room and be glad to share it with you for as long as I lived.”

You touched his cheek. “Why are you so sweet to me?”

“Because I love you very much,” he said simply. He kissed you. “Tell me you know that.”

“I know that,” you said softly, tenderly. “Of course I know that. I love you very much too.”

He kissed you again, taking his time, drawing you closer to him. You tasted like sweet wine and sounded so pretty when your breath caught, your fingers brushing through his curls, your heartbeat light and fast under his hands, almost ethereal.

From the other side of the living room, there was a vague commotion and contagious laughter from Sparrow and his brothers. 

“Should we check on them?” you asked, your voice muffled and smiley as you kissed him.

He chuckled. “They’re fine. Hush and let me kiss you.”

You did, and when you threw your arms around his neck to pull him even closer, he decided you weren’t ethereal after all. The two of you together, surrounded by the ones you loved, laughter and joy and music filling your home — it was something better than ethereal, something earthy and imperfect and steady. For all he loved his work, this right here was exactly what he wanted.

“I love you, Mrs. Kiszka,” he said gently.

You smiled and set everything right in his world. “I love you too, Joshy.”

@wideminded-dreamer and @spark-my-nature were particularly excited for this one so hey here you go <3

[blood-mocha-latte]

MISTY || 1.8K || RATED T || FOR @disastrouscanasta

“Don’t you go gettin’ sappy on me.” Hoosier warns, smile crooked, eyes still closed. Leckie’s chest squeezes again, just as warm, just as flooding. “I didn’t make it seven years with you for you to break down now.”

Bob can’t help his smile, this time, feels it grow like saplings in a rainy spring before he’s leaning forward again, kissing Hoosier before the other can protest. “I’m happy.” He mumbles, against Bill’s lips.

It’s an abject statement, one of the obvious. Still, Hoosier hums like it’s news, pushes his fingers through Bob’s hair again before tilting upwards in half of a bend, an eloquent curve that ends with pressing his mouth to Leckie’s own, a single coordinated line of drunken warmth that shines like a light of absolution directly into his soul.

(A single scene in Chicago, the last day of 1948.)

READ ON AO3

[inoreuct]

During a supply run with Zoro, a well-meaning lady tells Sanji he's pretty. Not handsome, no--PRETTY. "Your swordsman over there is handsome," she says, pointing at Zoro, who's examining liquor bottles over at another stall. "YOU are pretty." How does he react, & what happens next? 👀 (1/2)

he just laughs at first, if only to cover up how that one word from a stranger has hit him like a punch to the gut.

he looks like a man, and people don't call men pretty. rogueish, certainly. even charming; he's gotten that before at least, but pretty? he laughs some more, gives her a smile and a few words that he doesn't even register, and the merchant lady tilts her head. "you don't get that often, do you?"

"never gotten it at all, actually," he answers, bravado draining away to leave a mumble that he isn't even sure she can hear.

but she must have, because she slides his purchases to him and hums, "well, you're very beautiful. anyone'd have to be blind not to see it."

"maybe," he allows hesitantly, taking the bag with a nod of goodbye. he cannot help but feel as though he's realised something that he won't be able to ignore.

and sure enough, back on the ship, the words swim in his mind. they pop up in blinding white font against the dark of his eyelids as he tries and fails to get to sleep. you're very beautiful.

do i want to be beautiful? he asks himself, and halfway through he already knows, he knows the answer. feels it like an ache in his bones.

sanji's never let himself think about it, but once he starts he can't stop. he imagines himself in makeup, pots and pencils and brushes in front of a mirror, his hair fluffed to perfection, lips red as the dawn and a beauty mark beneath his eye. he thinks about what it would feel like to put on a dress, a proper one; cotton and linen traded for silk, starched dress shirts abandoned in favour of satin blouses and full skirts that nip in with ribbon at the waist. he thinks of the wicker wedge sandals that nami sometimes wears. he thinks about being a man, with a little something more.

he flips over and shoves his face into his pillow. he needs to stop thinking about things that he wants but can never have.

*

sanji's usually better at keeping his secrets, but eventually he slips. he should have known it was only a matter of time before the magnitude of it all became too much to bear and spilled out across the floor.

fortunately, his crew is there to catch him.

they take all of it in stride, even though sanji himself doesn't even know what all of it is yet; he figures things out as they go along. he finds clothes that aren't his in his closet, accessories appearing on his dresser. zoro keeps buying him silk blouses and it makes him want to laugh and cry in equal amounts. nami sees her chance to snag a makeup practice dummy and grabs it, which results in many a night in the girls' quarters, fooling around with makeup until they're either too tired or too giddy with laughter. the rest of the crew show their support in smaller ways, though no less significant—

and now, a year later and leaning against the bar counter of a vaguely familiar town, sanji suspects that he's somehow found himself. it hits him with all the grandeur of someone realising oh, it's stopped raining, or oh, tomorrow's tuesday— sinks into him honey-slow like the burn of the whiskey he sips, warm and comfortable, like a coat he hadn't realised he'd been wearing this whole time and had become his favourite without him even knowing. put like that, it sounds incredibly silly; sanji chuckles as he takes another drink, and a hand settles low on his back where the blue velvet of his dress dips down.

"hey, beautiful," zoro whispers by his ear, pressing a kiss to his cheekbone before leaning over his shoulder to order, and sanji smiles as he swirls his glass with a slow twirl of his wrist.

maybe he'll go look for that merchant lady again. he's fairly sure he owes her a thank you.

[dindjarindiaries]

Dincember - December 13: Family

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompt: Family

main masterlist • dincember masterlist

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙

Din set a gloved hand on your back as he ushered you and Grogu inside the inn. It was a welcome warmth as compared to the daunting cold you had just trekked through, and once the full effects of the planets' chill had made themselves known in both you and Grogu, Din wasted no time searching for lodging.

He patted your back before stepping forward to the clerk, nodding at them with respect. "I would like a room, for my family."

You perked up at that, sharing a glance with Grogu—just to see him fast asleep in the corner of your arm. You smiled to yourself and looked at Din and the clerk again.

"Thank you." Din was already accepting the access materials and sliding the necessary credits across the counter. He turned and set his hand on your back again without missing a beat. You were grateful for the warmth of guidance of his touch, and certainly it made him feel just as reassured.

The trip to the room was made in silence, but as soon as the door closed behind you, you couldn't help smiling once again. "That was sweet."

Din tilted his helmet as you set Grogu on the bed to continue resting. "What do you mean?"

You continued to prepare yourself for bed as you offered Din only a quick glance. "You know." You shrugged, teasing him a little bit longer.

Din's weight was set on one hip as he adjusted his gloves. "I'm not sure I do."

You sat on the edge of the bed facing him, your hands tucked underneath your legs. "You called us your family."

Din's helmet straightened, his stance doing the same as he began to approach you. "Well, that's just the truth." He placed a gloved hand upon your cheek. "You knew that." His thumb brushed over your skin, and his voice sounded more concerned as he went on. "Right?"

You shrugged and beamed at him. "It's just nice to hear you say it."

Din lifted his other hand to the side of your face and rested his helmet against your head. "Then I'll say it more often."

You closed your eyes in content at that, holding his helmet as if you were holding on to the very moment itself.

[haveihitanerve]

Homework is stressing me out and I fear I need Tim drake to be in the same pain ☝️

oh pooh. but if we suffer our characters suffer too amiright? coming right up-

Everything was going to shit. The world. Life. His job. His relationships. Life. Okay, well, maybe not everything. But his life was certainly crumbling. And the world wasn't doing too hot either if it had him doing calculus homework on a free Monday! Tim wanted to die. Not an uncommon thought, admittedly, but a little more rare recently. "Yo Timbo," Jason poked his head into the door, grinning. "Me and Dick are heading to the mall, wanna come?" Jason was just doing this to torture him. He knew Tim had to do homework. Tim slammed the door shut in his face and Jason's laughter echoed through the house. Stupid adults without homework. He doubted that either Dick or Jason had ever used calculus once they'd left school. He wanted to drop out, the way they had, but Bruce refused. "Jason only dropped because he died." He had pointed out, which, fair. At Tim's hopeful look at Damian Bruce had quickly added, "No you cannot die to get out of it." As though thinking about it summoned him, Damian appeared in the doorway too, pushing it open. "I am heading to the zoo Drake. Would you like to come? I need pictures for my drawings." Tim sighed dramatically, grabbing his camera and handing it to his little brother. "Can't. Homework. Don't break it." Damian smirked, tipped an imaginary hat(something he'd definitely learned from Dick) and left as well. Tim groaned, banging his head back down against the desk. Yeah. Life was going to shit.

[pup-pee]

pancake bunny pancake bunny boakcake buny

mmmmmm paper

[nicoscheer]

SIIIIIIRRRRRR ?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

especially cause he ain’t linked nowhere in the post

Always great fun when official sites use edited Milex pics for their posts 🤣🫠

[sukunasbow]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓 - ( 𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥, 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐢 ! )

synopsis -> in which your mates take care of you while you’re pregnant !

warnings -> none

requested by -> @automaticwizardnerd !

You’re currently pregnant, your mates constantly taking care of you and the baby.

You wake up in your marui, wiping your tired eyes and carefully shuffling around next to your mates, attempting to get up without waking them up. That ultimately fails, however, as Ronal’s ears perk up and she groans, “Stay.” She whispers, carefully pushing you back down. You let out a small laugh, “One minute.” You snuggle up with her and Tonowari.

A minute eventually passes and this time Tonowari wakes you and Ronal up, your mates helping you sit up straight. You grit your teeth, your back aching from the weight of your stomach. “What’s wrong?” Ronal immediately notices this, her eyes widening. “My back is sore.” You reply, gesturing with your hand and dismissing her concerns. “Here.” Tonowari moves towards you, sitting behind you and putting his hands under your stomach, gently lifting it. You instantly let out a sigh of relief and lean your head back on his shoulder, Ronal grinning and pressing a kiss to your stomach. “Does it feel good?” She asks you, “Very.” You smile. Tonowari kisses your head as Ronal shuffles closer to you, starting to massage your shoulders.

[airanke]

unloved

Dabi x gn!reader

Warnings: none, just fluff/comfort. Word Count: 425. Summary: You were grateful you could always be honest with him.

A/N: I wrote this a few months ago when I was doing pretty terribly, but on the plus side I don't feel like this anymore.

“I feel unloved.”

“Unloved?” Dabi repeated, gazing levelly at you.

You knew he was waiting for you to elaborate. With a shrug of your shoulders, you muttered, “I dunno. Or I just don’t let myself be loved, so it makes it difficult to believe people when they tell me I am,” you shook your head, raising your hand as if to silence him before he could speak, “don’t.”

It was a timid hope that he wouldn’t make you spell it out for him, why it would only be worse if he tried to reassure you that you were loved. It had been persisting for a while now; you had been actively withdrawing from everyone around you, so if anyone was to blame for how you felt…

Well, that was on you.

At least here, sitting beneath a weeping willow on a half-wall, you were hidden from the world, sitting in comfort with your wicked secret.

Dabi’s fingertips were rough with callouses as they brushed along the back of your hand. Stiffness overcame you, irritated with yourself for bothering to tell him even that much. You dreaded the thought that he was going to offer that reassurance, and you knew full well when you were like this, it would only make you feel worse.

“I despise you.”

You blinked, looking at him in shock, eyes wide with the unexpectedness of it.

But looking at him was your mistake.

The expression he wore contradicted the acidic words he spoke; words that lost their venom as he continued to speak, hand catching your chin so you couldn’t look away from the honesty in his brilliant eyes:

“I despise that I want to make you smile; despise how it makes me feel at ease when you do. I loathe the way I crane my neck when you laugh, just to see what it was so that I can do it later - I loathe how that boisterous sound brings me peace, how seeing you genuinely happy makes my chest light. I abhor the way you look at me, like I’m not a monster, but I wouldn’t be satisfied if you looked at me any other way. I wish you hated me, as much as I hate you,” his voice tapered off to a murmur, forehead pressing against yours, blue eyes glowing with that strong inner fire. His usual blistering heat had tempered itself to a calming warmth:

“Because I hate that I love you.”

A half-laugh, half-sob escaped you at his utterly absurd, roundabout way of making you accept it.

[remarkablerachelberry]

Now that I am finally settled with everything in its proper place, I am considering hosting a small soirée or housewarming of sorts. That being said, instead of spending my limited free time slaving away over a hot stove or serving guests, I was hoping to have the event catered. Does anyone know a company that offers vegetarian as well as non-vegetarian options? Preferably a local company. I’d like to have a wide variety of items for my guests. Thank you in advance for your assistance.