#twelve sunflowers: clear

[12helianthus]

dimilix fic written for the 2022 dimilix holiday exchange! 🐗⚔️❄️🥳 for my giftee @/foxkunkun on twitter!

❄️ clear

❄️ established relationship dimilix

❄️ rated g + 1.2k

❄️ dimitri and felix slow dance on a cold winter night

[cat3ch1sm]

Hi hope you're feeling better 💙 if I may ask again (cause ur writing is so good 💕)could I please have some wholesome and funny camping headcanons with the main four?(killua, gon, kurapika and leorio)

🪐~ hi there! thanks for asking abt my health, im taking it one day at a time :) here’s ur request!! to be clear there is no limit on how many requests one person can send in! so if u think you’re being annoying by sending in several requests don’t. i love you guys’ ideas

𝐡𝐱𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

gon is definitely the one who proposes the idea of camping. the others have to be convinced. but when gon really wants you to do something his eyes get all sparkly and big and earnest and he’s hard to say no to so eventually everyone always pulls up at the campsite

gon and killua have a ton of fun on the hike to the campsite in the woods. they’re just playing tag and chasing each other and swinging on trees and running up this steep ass hill like nobody’s business. kurapika isn’t as eager but he doesn’t have trouble actually hiking. but by the time they reach the site leorio is half dead

gon still pulls up in his fuck ass green shorts and cardigan even though they’re near water and they’re outside in the woods and there are a shit ton of mosquitoes

kurapika in a tank top. that’s all

killua does not even bother avoiding things like anthills and beehives and shi he just walks straight through them and the insects don’t even bother him

gon teaches the whole gang how to fish and Kurapika is a natural for some reason. leorio eventually gets the hang of it. but killua is positively disgusted by the worms they have to use as bait

doesn’t stop him from tossing a few down leorio and kurapika’s shirts though

kurapika is actually really proficient in the wild somehow- he remembers to pack all the essentials, knows how to set up a shelter (even though they have a tent) and knows what to do in case of things like flash floods or forest fires

there is always this one squirrel that will not stop following gon. he keeps feeding it and even though everyone says not to because then it’ll never leave him alone, gon doesn’t care. the squirrel seems genuinely attached to him and likes to chill on gon’s shoulder

there is also a squirrel that follows leorio simply to steal his food.

leorio and killua argue nonstop about how to set up the tents until kurapika swoops in while they’re busy fighting and just wordlessly puts them up himself

of course killua and gon share a tent while leorio and kurapika share the other

kurapika is basically gon and killua’s parent on camping trips because they’re twelve year old boys and super reckless. so before they go running off somewhere kurapika always drowns them in bug spray and sunscreen and makes sure they have full water bottles

for some reason killua is dead set on catching his own food. not like casual fishing like gon does, but he literally just wants to go into the woods and kill animals with his bare hands and bring them back to cook even though that’s definitely not how that works

of course Kurapika is prepared though. he brought things like trail mix and sunflower seeds and nuts and some meat. he also brings s’mores for them to make over the fire

starting the fire, by the way, gives them absolute hell. kurapika’s matches won’t light and killua’s lightning flashes too quick and gon can’t muster up enough heat energy from his nen to make the fire. after an hour though, when leorio leaves his glasses sitting right beside the pile of wood, the sun catches in the lens and finally lights the fire. leorio barely saves his glasses in time from the blaze

gon is a literal mosquito magnet for no reason. even despite the bug spray he comes back from his escapades with killua itching like crazy until Kurapika to the rescue gives him ointment to help with it

kurapika for some reason always burns his marshmallows in the fire when they’re making s’mores. he does it on purpose too and killua always makes it clear that he’s judging him for eating the burnt marshmallows

killua thought it would be fun to light the marshmallow on fire and then try and eat the literal flaming marshmallow. gon wanted to try too, but both leorio and kurapika shut that down real quick

when it’s time to go to bed and it’s dark gon climbs the trees and looks at the stars because he thinks they’re pretty. killua calls him corny but always joins him in the trees

kurapika just stays awake below, quietly watching the two talk and laugh in the tree

gon and killua always wind up falling asleep in the trees despite claiming that they’ll come back down

[cowboysandpilots]

When Bradley's mom passes away, he is twelve years old. It's in Carole's will that Bradley will inherit the house, but he's only twelve, so he moves in with Ice and Mav while Carole and Goose's house, Bradley's childhood home, sits dormant.

Bradley moves into that house the second he turns eighteen, and everything is exactly the way that they left it. It's a shrine to the ghosts that are still there, but Bradley likes living among them. He keeps everything exactly the way his parents left it; he only clears out his childhood bedroom and upgrades himself from a twin bed to a queen, but that's it.

Carole and Goose's room, the master, stays perfectly untouched. Bradley even keeps the door closed, though he does go in there from time to time. Despite the fact that he's a full adult, 23 years old, and finally accepted into the naval academy doesn't stop him from sometimes opening the door to his parent's room and crawling into his parent's bed. The bright yellow duvet still smells of his mother's perfume, and when he buries himself in the sheets, he can pretend like she's still hugging him.

He had six whole years after his dad passed away in that ejection gone wrong where it was just him and his mom, and yes, she did spend lots of that time in the hospital undergoing chemotherapy, but Bradley visited her every single day. He missed sports practices and piano recitals, but he wouldn't have it any other way. He cherishes those last days with his mom, where he crawled into her hospital bed and buried his nose into the comforting scent of her staple perfume she wore every day.

If he couldn't have the real thing, he'd do everything he could to make sure his mom's sunflower yellow bedspread never lost the feelings of her hugs. —— Hi, if you like this, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi; it helps this broke student to keep affording food ❤️

[blueywrites]

an excerpt from Turtle Dove & The Crow, part two

A little late-night post just because I'm excited to share. Hoping to have the next chapter out in the next few days! 🪶😊

After some time, the deep grumbling of an engine draws your gaze to an approaching truck, faded blue and familiar. As it rambles up the drive and rolls to a stop before the red house next door, you can see the curve of Eddie’s uncle’s shoulder and the plaid of his gray shirt just barely visible through the smudged side window. The puttering engine silences, and you smile and wave as he pulls himself from the driver’s seat like he’s made entirely of creaking joints before slamming the door shut behind him in a rattle of steel. “Mornin’, Mr. Wayne!” you call, wagging your arm high in the air until he spots you. He crosses around the front bumper to trudge up the steps toward the front door, throwing you a brief wave before pulling the straw hat from his head and rubbing the sparse hair that encircles the bald spot on his crown. Once the door has thumped closed behind him, Eddie lets the arm slung across the back of the wicker couch fall heavily upon your shoulder, and you giggle as he wraps it around your clavicle to pull you tighter against his chest. “What’re you makin’ there?” he asks you, peering over your shoulder.

You hold it up to show him the thread dangling from the N of the completed ‘MUN’ stitched in the left half of the hoop’s center. There’s the suggestion of a flower below it— a large deep brown circle with a smattering of butter-yellow petals beginning to surround it, along with a few deep green leaves. “I’m makin’ it for you,” you say, and when Eddie lets his chin drop gently against your shoulder, your cheeks heat despite yourself. “You n’ your uncle. See? It’s gonna say ‘Munson’ in the middle. And I’m puttin’ sunflowers on account of the ones growin’ on your side of the fence.” You turn your face toward him but can’t see much more besides the curve of his cheek and the pink of his lips, which look, unfortunately, very kissable right now. You glance away and lean your temple against his instead to avoid temptation. “What’s your favorite flower, Ed?”

You can feel the stretch of Eddie’s smile in the subtle shifting of the skin at his temple before he turns his head to face you. “How are you just the sweetest girl I ever known?” Eddie murmurs against your cheek, kissing you there before leaning back against the wicker couch again, pulling you with him. You sigh, melting into his side. “I dunno,” he says offhandedly, his thumb back to trailing along your arm, and you shiver as goosebumps pimple under the scratch of his warm skin. “Always kinda favored chicory flowers. They’re like the color of the sky on a clear day. No clouds make the sun brutal while you’re workin’, but y’can’t deny it looks nice like that.”

It’s quite sentimental coming from your wild best friend, and you stifle a sudden giddy giggle as you pull your bare feet up onto the cushion, tucking your knees beneath your skirt, which brushes low on your ankles as you fold up. “What?” Eddie snaps playfully. “Y’ask me what flower I like the best, and then y’laugh at my answer?” His breath huffs indignantly against your shoulder. “I take it back. You’re the yuckiest girl I ever known.”

Your giggles spike at that, growing in intensity, which is clearly the opposite of what Eddie wanted because the warmth of his arm unwraps abruptly from around you. “The yuckiest?” you question through your laughter, nose wrinkled skeptically. “What’re you, twelve?”

You twist to face him, and as you do, Eddie’s fingers ghost loosely along your shoulder, brushing to remove some invisible dust as the sour pucker of his lips draws into a smirk. His brown eyes glint with a sudden spark. “I think you know quite well I’m not no twelve-year-old anymore, turtle dove,” he murmurs, and the sensual timbre of his voice conjures a spark of heat that makes your thighs press together beneath your dress.

“I don’t hear no readin’ out there. What are you two schemin’ up now?” Your mama’s voice calling from beyond the window screen right behind you, harsh from shrillness and warning but not outright angry, has you both springing apart and scrambling to take your activities back up - Eddie, the neglected book discarded against the wicker arm, and you, the neglected needle dangling from your embroidery hoop. 

[friberchi]

OC meme

Tagged by @galedekarios ♡

name: Eadgar (Just Eadgar because I’m terrible for surnames… he gets Dekarios later ♡)

I have always liked the name “Edgar” so I just add an extra “a” because sometimes I’m extra.

nickname: None! I have a friend that calls him “Ed” which is fine, though!

gender: Male (trans)

star sign: Pieces

height: 192cm

orientation: bi

race: tiefling

romancing: Gale

fave fruit: oranges, berries and pomegranates! He likes bittersweet flavors.

fave season: Summer.

Eadgar enjoys clear skies and sunny days. What he likes the most about summer are the hotter nights, since he likes going out at that time. Spring is a close second. He doesn’t necessarily dislike cold weathers though… He’s a cool kind of guy. "Every day is a good day, and when it isn't, you should sleep and start over." - Eadgar, probably.

fave flower: Sunflowers!

fave scent: Salty sea breeze, wet earth, oranges and fresh done coffee.

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: Coffee! Hot chocolate, too. I guess he wouldn't like tea.

average sleep hours: Hmm, I’d say six or eight, or even ten, if it’s cold. He enjoys being in bed. (Maybe twelve if you make it a challenge.)

dogs or cats: Dogs! 100% dog person. But he likes cats too. (I compare his personality a lot to dogs though… haha.)

dream trip: After the game… Hm anywhere! I imagine he and Gale would plan a lot of trips on their free time or vacations.

amount of blankets: One when it’s hot (?) five when it’s winter? I don’t know! But a blanket is always welcome!

random fact(s):

- He used to be a paladin, joining an order with his younger brother Demitri (and the only reason he joined was to support his brother). Demitri died, along with other friends, and Eadgar sought revenge – what broke his oath (not he cared much about it). He spent some time feeling guilty, drinking a lot and kind of slowly giving up on life… Until he met a traveling circus. He traveled with them for a while. His time with them helped him finding some joy in life again, and he realized he wanted to lead a simple life in which he could make people laugh. He decided to stay in Baldur’s Gate when the circus visited there (it is not that in-game circus), and started working as a bard in the city. I think after the game, he would be a music or history/lore teacher in Waterdeep (heehee). As a teacher, I imagine he’s the friendly, funny teacher everyone loves (It's the story behind this art post I made some days ago). - He’s 35~40 at the beginning of the game. - He does NOT wish to have kids ever. He likes them, but don't see himself as a dad.

tagging (with zero pressure): @kaapora @rheethecharr @bmmbooshoot @inquisibrenda @fleshgardens + anyone who is seeing this and wants to join!! Anyone can tag me as the person who tagged them! ♡

[violettduchess]

For the fluffy ask game could you bless me with cuddle and warmth? 😁😁🥰🥰

Warmth:

Excerpt from this headcanon

Chevalier 

Together they stand in front of the white bookshelf in her room, the one with pink painted roses climbing up the sides. He holds her small hand in his as they consider the many, many books she has managed to collect thus far in her rather short lifetime. His pale head nods towards a dark blue book with gold lettering. “We’ve only read this particular story twice.” She turns, her long pale braids swinging as she shakes her head. Her small fingers wiggle, adjusting her grip on him. “That story is about pirates and we read the story about mermaids yesterday. I would rather not have another nautical adventure.” (read more cause its long)

His inflection is echoed in her young voice, his influence in her vocabulary. He nods, eyes scanning the shelves for another, more suitable choice. “Perhaps the desert instead of the sea.” He taps a finger against a beige book with the title in darkest brown along the spine. Her head tilts to one side, brow furrowed in consideration. “Whenever we read this story and it talks about how hot the desert is, it makes me thirsty and I’ve already had-” She glances over her shoulder at where you are laying out her clothes for the next day. “How many glasses of water did I have at dinner, Mama?”

“Three,” you answer as you lay a pale blue sweater over the sunflower yellow dress you’ve chosen. She turns back to her father. “I’ve already had three.” He tears his gaze away from the bookshelf, regarding her with a shadow of a smile on his lips. “That is very pragmatic of you.” She nods solemnly, squeezing his hand before examining her books once again. Her eyes light upon a book bound in deep green leather, embossed with a tall tower made of gold. “This one!” She slips her hand from him to take the book off the shelf. Though excited, she is careful. Books are treasures and her collection is more pristine than some libraries. Chevalier looks down at her choice and you see how his expression softens. “You’ve made this selection twelve times in three weeks.” 

“I like how you say all the new words!” The book is a story of a princess who travels the world and learns how to say hello in a multitude of languages, all of which Chevalier can speak. She takes his hand in hers again, the book cradled against her chest as she leads him to the large, velvet armchair, the one whose pink perfectly matches the dusty roses adorning her bookshelf. He settles into the chair and she climbs onto his lap, scooting back until she is comfortable. Reaching around her, his arms encircling her, he holds the book upright. “Shall we begin?” She nestles against his chest, azure eyes already eagerly on the book. “Yes, Papa!” 

A split second is all it is. Just a breath of time before he opens the book, but in that space the length of a heartbeat, you see how Chevalier allows the moment in: his daughter curled up on his lap, safe in the soft, warm light of her room, eyes bright with excitement as she waits for the magic of a book to begin, for her father to create that magic for her. His expression is the tenderness the dawn has for the sky, love painted in soft hues across his noble features. And then he clears his throat, opening the book to her delighted, already sleepy smile, and begins.

Cuddle

from this Leonardo fic

You have as much chance at resisting him as the night sky does the enchantment of twinkling stars. He smells like comfort, like cigarillo smoke and the faintest hint of linseed oil from Vincent’s paints. His long limbs wrap around you and you breathe out, your forehead leaning against the bare skin of his chest. His skin is still cool everywhere it touches yours, the last remnants of cool night air clinging to him like a wistful lover. His legs are entwined with yours, your arms are tucked between your bodies. There is nowhere in the world you feel safer than in Leonardo’s strong arms.

“There we go,” he murmurs, tilting his head down to drop a delicate kiss on your forehead, a benediction of his love for you. You respond by leaning forward and kissing his shoulder, those broad, beautiful shoulders that would carry every burden in the world if it meant a glimpse of your smile. You free your arms and slide your hands down the planes of his sides, the delight of smooth skin and toned muscle dancing under your palms.

He laughs, a soft, smoldering sound that warms you and stirs up heat at the same time. “Is this about to get interesting, cara mia?“

Your yawn is the answer to his question and again he laughs, embers of affection burning brightly in the sound. He shifts to his back, pulling you along with him, settling you against his side like a yearling nestling into a patch of soft forest green.

“Sleep, tesoro.” He runs his free hand over your arm, the one thrown across his midsection, lazily, habitually. Another kiss to the top of your head. A sigh of contentment as he relaxes his body. You are as much home to him as he is to you. “There is time for interesting things in the morning.”

[honey-hannie]

When Sunflowers and Daisies Bloom

- CHOI BEOMGYU

pairing: choi beomgyu x reader genre: fluff, established relationship status: incomplete warnings: none~

Your eyes moved to look at the scenery outside the train window. The gentle rumbling had almost lulled you to sleep but you had decided to stay awake for a while. Your eyes failed to catch up with the trees, fields and rivers of the passing villages due to the pace of the train. The sky was clear and you could see the silhouettes of birds soaring through the wind.

The only reason you were here was because of Beomgyu. You turned to face him. His eyes were closed but you knew he wasn’t asleep as you could feel his fingers drum against your arm to the music that played in his earphones. The sunlight lit up his facial features and brought attention to the long eyelashes that you loved to admire. He had practically begged you to go on a trip with him somewhere to relax.

The monotonous grey lives you both lead was way too much for the pair of you, but only Beomgyu took the effort to express it. He had always been the kind of person who enjoyed having the confetti, music on the speakers and the parties in his life. He brought out the energetic part of you. But of course even Beomgyu had the days where he only wanted to cuddle in bed until you fell asleep, be it together or one after the other. Maybe that was why you were such a great pair.

Whatever it may be, even you knew that your life was beginning to stress you out. The only person who kept you sane and active was Beomgyu, but waking up everyday only to see his smile was not healthy. That was why you were going to your father’s village. The pair of you had taken leave for a few days even though you were hesitant to leave you pending work. You recalled locking the door and handing the key to Soobin. Beomgyu also admitted that it was best to give the key to someone who was reputed to be responsible. And there went the glittering key as Soobin waved at you in his pajamas while you got inside the taxi to the train station at four in the morning.

You tugged at Beomgyu’s sleeve as the train began slowing down. “Get up, Beommie, we’re here.” His eyes fluttered open and he yawned, gazing at you with a smile. He turned to the window and smiled brightly.

“Let’s get the bags, then!”

⋆⋅ ☾ ⋅⋆ ───────────

You stepped outside and the first person you saw was your aunt. She stood at the station, ready to welcome you. She had certainly aged. In your youth, when you used to visit the village often, she used to give you cow’s pure milk and many fresh fruits to eat. You had always enjoyed the taste of the food in your aunt’s home.

“Did you have a safe trip here, Y/n?”

“Very safe and very tiring. We passed by quite a lot of places. Many things changed.”

You hadn’t been here after your grandmother’s death. Your father had refused to return to the village. If you remembered correctly, the last time you were here, you were about twelve or thirteen. With the passing of time, you noticed how the villages were slowly turning into cities. You disliked that a lot, mainly because you wanted to show your kids where you loved to spend your childhood. Maybe one day.

“And this is Beomgyu! We have only seen you through the phone!” your aunt commented. Instantly, Beomgyu, who had been standing just behind you with the heaviest bag, blushed.

“I could say the same for you, auntie. It is such a pleasure to meet you. Y/n has told me all about you.”

After exchanging pleasantries, she led you to the car that was driven by your uncle. He talked a lot with Beomgyu about the village, and Beomgyu seemed very interested in the stories your aunt and uncle had to offer. He asked many questions and received all the answers while you quietly swelled with pride at the fact that your aunt, uncle and Beomgyu got along so well.

“Here we are!” your uncle announced as the car stopped in front of a tiny house. There were many potted plants and flowers decorating the entrance to the house. A tiny vegetable farm was on the side. Instantly, you were hit with a pain in your chest at the thought of your grandma who used to wait for you in front of the house each time you came to visit. You pursed your lips at the memories, reminiscing the days you were young and only had to study.

Your aunt gave you some snacks to eat and some fruit juice to drink. As soon as Beomgyu took a sip, he hummed in appreciation and his eyes, if possible, widened even more. You couldn’t blame him, even you had forgotten what fresh fruit juice tasted like. You aunt laughed at your surprised faces. “Must’ve been a while since you had anything organic, eh?” she said, to which you two nodded.

After re-energizing, you climbed the stairs to your room. Beomgyu opened the door and his eyes widened in amazement. He dropped the bags he was holding and rushed to the balcony in the room, gazing out at the village which eventually brought you the the sea. The deep blue water glittered in the sunlight and the greenery stretched out far and wide. Everything about the village was different from the city, even the air smelled different- it was fresh and clean.

“You didn’t tell me you lived in such a beautiful place, love. We should’ve been here before!”

“I guess I just forgot... Forgot how beautiful it was here.”

“From tomorrow, we will visit the most beautiful places here. You uncle was kind enough to tell me about a few places we should be visiting during our stay. And also,” he added, turning serious, “we won’t be working at all during this time. I know you love to finish your work, but you will be much more efficient after a good break. Promise me you’ll stay away from your laptop?” He put his pinky out and smile softly at you. “Love?”

You linked your pinky with him.

“Promise.”

⋆⋅ ☾ ⋅⋆ ───────────

The first rays of the sun hit your face as you awoke, giggles escaping your lips at the tingling sensation of Beomgyu’s fingers poking your ribs. You turned around, gazing at the boy behind you who was already quite awake. His eyes gleamed golden from the light pouring into the room.

“Good morning, love.” He giggled as you mumbled a reply to him. You rolled over to face him properly and curled into the warmth of his figure, arms wrapping around his waist. Even though you couldn’t see it, you could feel Beomgyu’s face break into a wide smile, yes it was odd, but it was probably a symbolism of the connection you shared. Eventually, the boy managed to pull you out of your lazy state and got you coffee that your aunt prepared.

The pair of you stood at the balcony, gazing out into the beautiful morning scenery before you as you sipped the coffee, talking about your plans for the day. For today, you two had found the village roads most desirable. As you finished the delicious breakfast of pancakes that your uncle provided, your aunt handed you a piece of paper. “Since you are going out, will you buy these things for me? With these, we can make dinner.” You, of course, agreed, and set out with Beomgyu to explore the beauty of the rural village- two explorers taking a break from their busy lives.

On the way to the market, many people began waving at you cheerfully, clearly indicating that they knew who you were. They called you by your name, and even talked with you a little bit, introducing themselves to Beomgyu too.

“Do you know all of them?” Beomgyu finally asked after a middle-aged couple exchanged pleasantries with you. “Not that well... not all of them, only a few people,” you admitted. Nonetheless, you waved and smiled at them warmly.

At noon, you reached the market where a young man was working. Upon noticing the arrival of potential customers, he dropped the pen he was writing with and walked towards you with a smile. “Hello! How may I help... you...?” His smile faded as a surprised look crosses his face. You and Beomgyu exchanged nervous glances. “Y/n! Do you remember me?” The young man asked you. You knew that you had seen him somewhere, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Upon seeing your baffled expression, his wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing, took it off and laughed at you. “It’s me, silly, Hojun!”

Now it was your turn to be surprised. Hojun, how could you forget him? He was your only close friend in the village during your childhood. You couldn’t blame yourself for forgetting him though. The fat that once sat on his cheeks were long gone to be replaced by well-defined cheekbones. He wasn’t the small kid with the sweaty brown hair and a teeth missing that you once knew- he was a young man with a dazzling smile and glimmering eyes, still holding the mischief in them.

“Hojun! Oh my, I’m so sorry! It’s been so long! I thought you were going overseas for further studies...”

“Oh, you remembered! Yes, i actually did go overseas, but I came back to take in an year of rural breath- away from the cities. But wow, Y/n, you grew a lot since the last time we saw each other... what, like six years ago? You even got a boyfriend!” The males greeted one another. “Wow, Y/n, I told you you’d be the first one to get into a proper relationship,” Hojun mused.

“And you?” you asked.

“Oh, I did have a girlfriend... but we broke up pretty early. We weren’t so compatible to begin with anyway, you know? However, I’m glad it’s not like that for you though.” Hojun ruffled your hair, making you giggle.

Eventually, after talking and catching up a bit and buying the things you were initially there for, you separated ways.

“I did not expect to to see Hojun here!” you cheerfully commented as you and Beomgyu walked down the street, hand in hand.

“Yeah, he was quite... chipper,” Beomgyu answered shortly, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes, something you didn’t miss. Your smile widened as you tightened your grip around Beomgyu’s hand, laughing softly at the display of his jealousy. As you had expected, he had a pout on his lips. To cheer him up a bit, you verbalized an idea that had popped in your head.

“Say, what do you think about boating at the lake in the afternoon?” Matching your guess, Beomgyu replied in the affirmative, excitement sparkling in his eyes.

⋆⋅ ☾ ⋅⋆ ─────────── 

At 5 o’clock, as the pair of you had planned, you set out to the lake for boating. Granted, you had originally planned to arrive a bit after lunch, but you were feeling so tired after exploring the village that you two decided to take some time for napping a bit. Since you were going to be near water, you and Beomgyu had worn shorts and shirts, responsibly informing your aunt and uncle of your whereabouts before running out. Contradicting your predictions, the sun was already going to set sooner that you had expected.

“This will be okay,” you said, pushing a brown and green colored boat into the water. Beomgyu detached the rope which was tied to a pole sticking from the ground. He held onto the boat as you jumped into the boat, following your motion only when he noticed you where comfortably seated. He carefully took the handles of the oars and began rowing. You were seated in front of him, watching Beommie grin as you set out further into the water.

You turned your gaze to the sun which was slowly setting, coloring the sky into hues of blue, purple, pink, yellow, orange and red. Black silhouettes of birds flew in the sky back to their homes. The water beautifully reflected the colors of the vividly colored sky, gently rocking your boat to the lullaby of the evening wind whenever your lover took a break from rowing to admire the scenery around both of you.

“Can you teach me how to row?” you asked Beomgyu.

“I... am not so sure myself, I’m just copying what I’ve seen in the past,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Oh, that’s fine, Beommie. Just teach me what you know.”

And before you knew it, you were already seated where Beomgyu was seconds ago, his hands guiding your arms and hands to move back and forth to move the oars. His body was pressed against your back and you could catch the distinct scent of flowers as you always did. You giggled like a little kid, leaning against him a bit more, hearing him laugh along with you. In the rhythm of an unsung song, you and Beomgyu moved back and forth, sharing little words of love and joy.

When you reached the middle of the lake, you stopped and Beomgyu sat in front of you, producing a tiny glass bottle from his pocket. He carefully scooped up a bit of water from the lake with the bottle and closed it with the lid. “We can store significant items from the memories we make together in such bottles!” He replied to your puzzled look. Immediately, your heart warmed up at the thoughtfulness of your lover and you leaned forward to kiss him. The boy who was admiring the water in the bottle was caught off guard as he gazed up at you. His golden sunlit eyes were wide and his cheeks were shimmering pink in the evening sunlight. His glossy lips were slightly apart, and- my god- even he couldn’t answer how every kiss with you felt like the first one all over again.

⋆⋅ ☾ ⋅⋆ ───────────

“Hold on!” you shouted as you watched a hyperactive Beomgyu leap over a rock in your path. He turned around, lips apart from using so much energy, hair wet with sweat and eyes as bright as the sun. He was thriving in nature. However, on the other hand, your hands were on your knees, tiredness from hiking so much catching up with you quickly.

“Oh, come on! Don’t tell me you’re already tired!” He grinned mischievously. You had been climbing the hill nonstop for an hour and were now beginning to get tired from lack of exercise. But at that moment, you were simply shocked your body could handle one whole hour of hiking. Surprisingly, Beomgyu was barely fazed by the heat, credits to the choreography and exercise in his routine.

Upon your request, the pair of you decided to take a break finally. You had woken up at 4 in the morning for this. Beomgyu was adamant about watching the sunrise. He was keen to reach the top and take pictures. Your aunt had suggested hiking as you were eating dinner the previous evening, which made Beomgyu so excited that he could barely sleep at night. He kept on whispering about what he thought the hiking would be like. It had been, after all, ages since you went to the hills.

You continued your trip until the bushes and trees thinned and more open space surrounded you. “It’s there!” Beomgyu jumped and pointed before breaking into a run. You followed with a little job to keep up with him. When you reached him, you saw a clearance. Sun rays were slowly shimmering from behind the hills, giving them a darker shade. The sky had transformed into a watercolor-like painting with shades of yellow, pink, blue and purple. Birds were flying in the distance, making both you and Beomgyu gasp. You dropped your bag next to where Beomgyu had kept his and walked forward.

“Magnificent,” you murmured.

You felt Beomgyu’s arms around your figure.

“Y/n...” He breathed out, his lips close to your right ear. “I want to say thanks for doing all this with me. I know I pulled you away from your work forcefully and everything, and I feel guilty for doing so. I thought you’d need some fresh air and some break. I really want to spend this little escape happily. I’m so glad you’re here with me right now, watching this sunrise. I’m just... so, so glad.” He pressed his face into your hair, inhaling and exhaling slowly.

You turned around. Beomgyu’s face was partially illuminated by the sun rays. His face bore one of those sincere and meaningful smiles. You placed you hands on his fluffy cheeks and giggled at his squished face.

“I’m glad you’re here too, Beommie, and I’m glad I don’t want to leave yet.” You pressed a kiss onto his lips, both of you melting into smiles. It felt ethereal to be with Beomgyu, a sunrise behind you, and kissing him so slowly.

[sheetal-12]

Dear Theo..

Where is my life going? What make it our mind? He loses things their joy and leads us to melancholy. I rot without my feathers and these colors. With them I recreate things anew. All things become cold and dull after time tramples on them. I want to invent new fonts and colors, other than the ones with which our eyes stumble every day.

All the old colors have a sad glint in my heart, are they so in nature or are my eyes sick? Here I am redrawn as I ignite the fire that lurks in it.

At the heart of the tragedy there are lines of joy I want my colors to show, in the fields of "crows" and ears of wheat with their twisted necks. Even the "farmer's shoes" that filter misery, there is joy that I want to capture by color and movement... Ugly things have an artistic peculiarity that we may not find in beautiful things, and the artist's eye does not miss that.

Today I drew my own portrait, and every morning, when I look in the mirror, I say to myself: You refined face, you ugly face of Vincent, why don't you renew it?

I spit in the mirror and get out... Today I reshaped my face, not as nature wanted it, but as I wanted it to be..

Two werewolf eyes without resolution. A green face and a beard like the tongues of fire. The ear in the painting was protruding I didn't need it. I grabbed the feather, I mean the razor, and removed it.. It seems that I got confused, between my head outside and inside the painting... Well what am I going to do with that lump of meat?

I sent it to the woman who didn't know my worth and thought I loved her.. It's okay let the appendages come together.. Here's my ear, talkative woman, talk to her... Now I can hear and see with my fingers. Indeed, my sixth finger, the feather, can do more than that: it dances, creates and caresses the skin of the painting.

I sit and meditate: the world has grown old and its wrinkles have increased, and the face of the painting is beginning to relax more. Oh my God, what can I do before night falls on the tower of the soul? The brush, the colors, and I quickly fix it: straight and short strokes, sharp and graceful, my colors are clear and primitive. Yellow Blue Red.. I want to bring things back to their spontaneity as if the world had just come out of its first cosmic egg.

I still remember: It was dusk or after dusk and before dawn. The lilac color (denoting the night) wets the horizon... Ah, the shiver of lilac, when we went out into the orchard to steal the cranberries. I was sitting in the middle of the tree watching a green and yellow worm while Ursula the more miserable jumped gleefully among the branches Suddenly she lost her balance and sank, my chest trembled before hanging on my neck, I held her to me, breathing like a frightened antelope, and when she moved away from me a berry had left its night nectar On the white of my shirt, since that day, when I was twelve, I felt its lilac nectar on the white of my shirt.

From that day on, when I was twelve, I feel I would be happy if a lilac hole were to open in my chest so that white might flow, what a lilac tremble.

The idea pushes me a lot, can I not do it Lie in the sunflower, yellow, oh I, absorb the rays of this joyful planet, stare and stare into the sun's eye where the soul of the universe is until my eyes burn me.

Two things stir my soul: staring at the sun, and at death.. I want to travel in the stars, and this miserable body is holding me back! When will we, the sons of the earth, go, carrying our bloody handkerchiefs, but to where? .. To the dream, of course.

Yesterday I painted flowers the color of clay after I planted myself in the dirt, and the ears were green and yellow growing over my head, and the crows of memory were flying without air. Heads of wheat and crows. Crows and wheat... the crows are pecking at my brain. Cork... Cork... everything is a dream. Dreams are in vain, and the feather of dust deceives us all the time.. Soon I will restore the trust of the dirt, and release the bird from my chest towards the land of the sun.. Oh swallow, I will open the cage for you with this pistol.

Goodbye, Theo, I'm leaving for spring.

- Vincent van Gogh

[acediting]

Nanowrimo Day 9 (continuation of day 8)

“We will be careful,” Matilda assured the woman. “While we may not be on the Citadel’s official payroll, we have experience with dealing with rogues and natural spirits.”

 This seemed to pique the old woman’s interest. “I expected rogues, but the natural world also?”

 “Robbie and I are both summoners,” she explained. When Mrs. Winterson looked to Robbie for confirmation, he lifted his JEG out from beneath his shirt. The orange and red gem glowed before giving a small chirp as Spark voiced his version of a hello.

 “Oh my!” she gasped. “I have never seen a summon this close before.”

 Robbie tucked the gem away again. “He’s a fire type, so it’s best not to let him out further than that.”

 Matilda nodded, smiling sheepishly, “Draco likely wouldn’t fit in the kitchen, sadly.”

 “That is quite alright,” Mrs. Winterson replied, letting out a small sigh of relief. “Knowing that you young ones have assistance in this matter…well, it takes a heavy weight off my chest.”

 “Speaking of which,” Robbie spoke, “you said that you thought everyone who disappeared gave up on their investigation and left during the night. Where did they investigate?”

 “Just about everywhere,” she answered. “At first people were interested in the house itself, though as you might guess it did not meet their standards for supernatural appeal.” She motioned to the warm colors and floral patterns that decorated most of the living room. “Many did go to barn and out in the fields. This house sits on twelve acres, you see,” she winked. “More than a few suspected that perhaps something sinister happened in those fields once upon a time.”

 “Is there any records that suggest that?” Matilda asked.

 “Heavens no!” she laughed. “But you try explaining that to a crew eager to catch a ghost on camera.”

 “That should be our starting point then,” Robbie mused.

 Mrs. Winterson nodded. “I would agree. Though,” she looked to the windows and the darkening sky, “I would be more than happy to show you around the barn now. But might I suggest staying in my guest rooms tonight and investigating in the morning? As I said, the others went searching at night. It would bring me a level of comfort if you refrained from doing the same.”

 The pair exchanged a glance. Neither had expected this to be a day trip, especially after the long drive to get to the farmhouse. However, they hadn’t expected to actually spend the night on the property where the haunting was happening. The house was warm and inviting though, and both knew from experience that the SUV was great to drive in, but sucked for spending the night and hoping for any form of good nights rest. Well, that could be said for any vehicle, given Robbie’s and Matilda’s heights. They made a silent agreement, then Matilda turned her attention back to Mrs. Winterson. “If it’s no trouble, we would love to take you up on your offer.”

 Mrs. Winterson smiled. “It is no trouble at all.” She stood, clearing her nearly untouched plate. “Now, that pie will be done shortly but will need to cool. Let me show you where the guest rooms are so you can settle in, then we can have some dessert and a good night’s rest before you both start out.”

 Mrs. Winterson had not been kidding when she said she was an empty nester used to cooking for many. Aside from her room, there were four more bedrooms upstairs. Though one had always been a craft and hobby room for her, the other three that had now been converted to guest bedrooms once belonged to her three children, who had long since grown, left, and were now raising their own families closer to the cities. Each of the rooms was now painted a soft white, and furnished with a bed, a dresser, a nightstand, and a lamp that has some unique shade and design. Robbie chose the room that had a lamp wrapped in artificial grape vines, while Matilda chose one with a lampshade that looked like stained glass sunflowers. Once chosen, the pair went back to the SUV to grab their normal travel luggage, a perk of living on the road during dueling season since they carried everything they needed with them. While they would have preferred to have started the investigation right away, they understood Mrs. Winterson’s concern about investigating and  the disappearances. So, they stayed in, enjoying a slice of the cherry pie and playing a couple of rounds of Farkle with their host before retiring for the evening.

 Robbie changed into some sweat pants and a loose shirt before sitting on the bed, then flopping back with his arms resting behind his head. He looked up at the ceiling in silent thought, trying to comb over what little he knew from the request that came in, and what Mrs. Winterson has shared. It sounded like there has been a haunting here for a long time. But, from what Mrs. Winterson said the local ghost was not exactly trouble, at least not until recently. Disappearances though weren’t exactly a ghost’s M.O. from what he had heard. Normally that came from a more solid, more living type of being. So, either something was messing with Casper, or something else moved in…

 A light flickered just outside of Robbie’s window, catching his attention. He turned just in time to see the dark blue and silver speckled form of Draco’s phantom body fly past, seemingly heading towards the fields. Robbie sat up, taking a good look at the large dragon. He didn’t have a rider, and nobody was running beneath him. Robbie stood, leaving his room and going to the next one over, knocking lightly.

 Matilda opened the door. She had also changed for the night, currently sporting a sweatshirt from last year’s dueling season and some exercise shorts. Robbie raised a brow at her, not saying a thing. She returned it,  then cracked, shaking her head. “He’s many things, but Draco can’t stealth worth a damn.” She opened the door wider for Robbie to come in.

 He stepped inside. “Need Spark to look around too?”

 “Probably, but not yet,” she answered, shutting the door behind him. “I’m having Draco do an overall search, just making sure we aren’t actually looking for a serial killer and a mass grave.”

 “And if he does we take the old lady and run?”

 “What if the old lady is the serial killer?”

 Robbie rolled his eyes, “If she was, she would have poisoned us with the pie by now.” He folded  his arms over his chest, regarding her thoughtfully. “Not ruling out a serial killer, but if Draco turns up empty handed what are our other options?”

 “Honestly?” Matilda mirrored his stance. “This smells of Rogue, especially with the disappearances without a trace. I mean, at the very least the vehicles of the missing people should have been found.”

 “That would have to be a pretty powerful rogue,” he commented.

 Matilda agreed. “I’d peg it at least a Manipulator rank if it is.”

 “From the sound of that, I’d wager you’re not ruling out the ghost?” Robbie asked.

 She was silent a moment, considering how to answer. “We are summoners, so we know that spirits can be good and do good,” she began. “That being said, we have also seen how they can change, like people. We can’t rule out that this ghost may be dirty.”

 Robbie held up his hands. “I get it. I’ve seen my fair share of summons in the ring that I wonder why someone in their right mind bonded with them. I just wanted to make sure we were both on the same page with that. Though, it’s odd that if it went bad that it hasn’t chased off Mrs. Winterson.”

 “It could be affecting her a different way,” she mused. “Did you notice how she didn’t touch any of her food tonight? Like, at all?”

 Robbie thought back. Now that Matilda mentioned it, he had only seen her pushing it around, not actually taking a bite. It seemed odd in hindsight, especially since she had made that meal with a party of  one in mind. The thought that perhaps the ghost was affecting her appetite came to mind, but the more he considered things, the more he doubted that. He shook his head. “I don’t think that she’s being  affected by the ghost like that,” he supplied. “Yeah she didn’t eat, but doesn’t look starved in any sense of the word.”

 “True,” she relented. “Still, I’m not sure what to make of this house, or this ghost quite yet.”

 “The house?”

 Matilda nodded, “You know how the stories go. If it’s not the scary dilapidated, clearly haunted house that’s the setting, it’s the cute little house where Grandma could live where everything hits the fan.”

 “Want me to stay in here until Draco gets back?” Robbie offered.

 Matilda grinned, “I said that I don’t know what to make of it, not that I’m afraid of it. If anything tries anything, I can hold my own.”

 “Honestly, I think you’re the scariest thing here,” Robbie agreed, “That’s including the flaming lion-ferret in my JEG and your dragon made of literal stars roaming the place.”

 She chuckled, “Good! We’re on the same page then.” Then, she stretched, stifling a yawn. “Anyway, I’m going to get some shut eye. We can get to work first thing in the morning.”

 Robbie nodded, turning back towards the door. “Have a good night, Mattie.”

 “You too,” she said, seeing him out before closing the door with a quiet click so as not to wake their host.

 Robbie returned to his room, only to pause when his hand was an inch from the doorknob. Weird. The house was warm, yet the doorknob felt cold. Ice cold even. Against his chest, he could feel Spark’s JEG warming, but whether it be from curiosity or caution, Robbie couldn’t tell. Slowly, carefully, he turned the knob, and opened the door to the guest room.

[stillwinchester]

Not even an Apocalypse

Dean shifts from foot to foot, waiting for Cas next to the Impala. Now, he sees how stupid his idea is. He looks at the sunflower on the seat, embarrassed at the thought that he bought it for Cas. Guys don't give each other shits like this. Even if it's the first date.

Cas appears in the garage three minutes later, to Dean surprised, he doesn't wear his coat or tie. Just a simply white shirt (Dean smirks after he notices Cas undid two buttons) and black trousers. He comes closer and passes him a single red rose from behind his back.

“It's for you,” he whispers. Dean hesitates for a moment, but he takes a gift, eventually.

“You bought me a flower?” He feels less stupid now, when Cas did the same thing as he, but he's not sure what to think about that. He has never gotten a flower before.

“I thought it's accurate for a date.”

“Yeah, it is. I have something for you too.”

Dean reaches to the car for a sunflower to give it to Cas. He gets a big grin in exchange.

“Oh, thank you! It's beautiful!”

They get in the car, Dean starts the engine, and they leave the bunker. Cas plays with his sunflower for a moment, then puts it away on the dashboard. Dean watches the road with a long face. There's silence between them, and after a few minutes there's a tension in the air. Cas clears his throat to bring Dean's attention, but Dean doesn't react, so eventually, he speaks:

“You seem upset.”

“What? I'm not upset,” says Dean fast, still watching the road.

“You didn't turn on the radio, and you're very quiet...”

“I'm not upset, Cas. I'm-” Dean gulps. “I'm nervous.”

Cas tilts his head and furrows, not understanding why Dean feels like that. He was excited about the thought they're going for the first official date, but maybe it's not Dean's thing? Maybe he's just doing it for him, forcing himself to be romantic.

“Why?” asks Cas, wanting to understand.

“Isn't that obvious?” Dean finally looks at him. “I'm going on a first date with an amazing, hot guy, and I want it to be a special evening. I don't wanna screw up anything.”

Cas breathes with relief and even gives him a half-smile.

“Should I be nervous too?”

“What? Why?”

“Because 'the hot guy' asked me out,” he explains, and Dean gives him a confused look. “We've known each other twelve years, and even if the Apocalypse started tonight, which is highly risky in our lives, it still would be a wonderful date. The perfect one.”

Dean relaxes a little bit, Cas is right. They have been through so much together, nothing could separate them now.

“Yeah... Actually, it will be weird if we don't find a vampire nest or at least, a werewolf,” he tries to joke.

“Or maybe a group of werepires?”

Dean looks at Cas again, blinks, and bursts out laughing. He wipes tears from the corner of his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Jeez, I can't believe you said it!”

“I can express my affection for you in many ways.”

“Oh, so that was a love confession?”

“Maybe.”

“So, I werepire you too.”

Cas smiles, Dean smiles back, and there's no nervousness between them anymore. They're going on their perfect date, and nothing can destroy their plans!

Cas slowly rests his hand on Dean's knee, and Dean squeezes it gently. They're holding hands for the rest of their journey.

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Twelve)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Domestic Violence, Angst

Words: 1,366

Please comment and interact…it’s what keeps this blog going

***************************

 When you picked up the intercom, you were surprised to hear the voice of Denise’s mother and, after you let her upstairs through the apartment building, you quickly shoved your intimate toys beneath one of the pillows on Cillian’s bed and shut the door to his bedroom.

‘Hey Y/N’ she said somewhat surprised when you greeted her. ‘I thought Denise is in Manchester, visiting Cillian on set’ she then asked and you nodded nervously.

‘She is’ you confirmed while she made her way inside the apartment.  

‘So, what are you doing here on your own then?’ she asked somewhat confused and you had to think quickly in order to come up with an excuse.

‘Uhm…something happened at home and…uhm…Cillian offered me to stay here while he was not using the apartment while I am sorting out accommodation on campus’ you stammered, barely able to form a full sentence.

‘Right, well that’s nice of him’ she said before informing you that she came by to pick up some of Lucas’s things which he had left at the apartment during his last visit to Galway.

‘I have Lucas’s key but, since I saw the lights on, I didn’t just want to walk inside and I tried to reach Cillian but he didn’t answer his phone’ she explained before grabbing a bag from Lucas’s room, telling you that Lucas was waiting for her in the car and wishing you a pleasant night.  

****

The following day, you immediately received a call from Denise who was somewhat surprised when she found that you were staying at her father’s apartment in Galway.

‘My parents said that dad had offered you to stay at his apartment in Galway after I told him what happened between you and your father. Did he call you? I didn’t even think he had your number?’ Denise asked somewhat surprised before asking you whether you were alright after the incident.

‘I am fine. I gave your dad my number a while ago, just in case he ever needed it’ you explained and Denise didn’t bother to question you any more about it. Instead, she simply laughed, thinking that you were again trying to hit on her father.

Whilst she was surprised that he had rang you and offered you his place to stay, she knew about what had happened with your sister several years ago and felt as though her father probably just wanted to help you since you were her friend.

‘Anyway, dad isn’t coming home next week and Lucas is in Cork. You should come to Dublin and spend the weekend with me. We would have the house to ourselves’ Denise then suggested.

‘I can’t. I have to work’ you said, unable to tell her the truth, namely that you would be spending the weekend with her father.

‘That’s a shame. Well, I guess you would rather come and visit me in Dublin when dad is home anyway’ she then joked and you couldn’t help but gulp.

‘Yeah, well, he is hot’ you then said somewhat embarrassed but forcing out a laugh nonetheless.

‘You are disgusting’ Denise said before carrying on…‘Also, I am sorry to disappoint you but I think he’s got a girlfriend and it is not Laura Jennings’ Denise then said and you couldn’t help but ask Denise about it.

‘What makes you say that?’ you asked, curious as to how Denise knew about her father seeing someone else.

‘Dad has been glued to his phone all of last night, texting with a woman friend of his. This friend even sent him a nude picture’ Denise laughed, causing you to choke.

‘A nude picture?’ you asked, cheeks blushing red.

‘Yes, a nude picture. The message popped up on his phone in preview and I saw it. I couldn’t see her face though and, luckily, her intimate parts were covered by a James Joyce Novel’ Denise said rather amused and you couldn’t help but feel sick to your stomach knowing that Denise had seen this somewhat inappropriate picture of you.

‘Uhm…well…at least your dad is happy, right?’ you then said nervously.

‘Right. He seems pretty happy actually’ Denise said before having to bring the phone call to an end. ‘Anyway, I better go. Amalie wants to go shopping today’ Denise then said before wishing you a good day and telling you to stay away from her draws, thinking that you were staying in her room at the apartment.

***

With Denise and her mother being fully aware about where you were staying, it didn’t take long for your mother to find out and, if your mother knew, your father would soon know as well.

Denise’s mother and your mother used to be friends until contact broke between them following some sort of incident just over a year ago.

You never knew what the incident was about and Cillian made clear to you that he wouldn’t get involved in it again and, if you wanted to know about it, you needed to speak to your mother. It wasn’t his place to be unless it involved you directly.

You accepted his decision but, when your mother contacted Cillian’s ex wife to see whether she knew where you were staying after Denise refused to tell her, things had become difficult yet again and you agreed to meet your mother on Friday morning at a nearby café.

When you sat down together, she first handed you a letter from Trinity College in Dublin.

‘Your scholarship has been accepted. I suppose that will solve your problems, right?’ she asked with a warm smile and you couldn’t help but get a little excited. This was all you ever wanted and you knew that you could stay at campus in Dublin for free while attending university and working part time.

‘I am sorry mum, I shouldn’t have taken off so suddenly, but he has gone too far this time’ you said rather upset.

‘I understand and thank you for checking in with me every day via text message’ your mother then said and you nodded before giving her a hug. It was obvious to you that she wasn’t angry with you and supported your decision to leave rather abruptly.

‘I didn’t want dad to know where I am staying because, as far as I am aware, his relationship with Denise’s family is rather bad’ you then said which is also when your mother opened up to you about why this is the case.

‘Denise’s mother and I were good friends, even after she tried to help your sister behind your father’s back when we found out about her pregnancy. I knew about it. In fact, it was me who asked her for help. Your father found out about it later down the track and then he did to me what he did to you the other day. I went to Denise’s parents’ house for help as I was so upset but, in the end, I worked things out with your father through the Church counsellor’ your mother explained before telling you that your father had threatened Cillian and his ex-wife if they wouldn’t stay out of their marriage.

‘Mum, in all honesty, you deserve better than this. Why do you put up with his anger? Just because he repents every week doesn’t make it right’ you said, taking her hand.

‘Because I love him and this happened once. It never happened again’ she said and you simply nodded, having to accept her decision.

‘Okay’ you said before allowing her to change the topic to something more pleasant which is when you began talking about your upcoming birthday before it was time for you to go.

You knew that, in about five hours, Cillian would be at the apartment and, before he got there, you wanted to cook, tidy up, shower, shave and get yourself into some nice lingerie.

 Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara @cilleveryone  ​

@peaky-cillian​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​ @kpopgirlbtssvt

[witch-city]

your twelve days of christmas

marvel masterlist | marvel headcanons | navigation

yelena belova x reader

a/n: i was stretching it a little bit on some of these, but you get the picture...enjoy!

warnings: none! pure, tooth-rotting fluff!

requests are open!

as much as yelena LOVES american holidays and traditions, she's not very clear on all of them

like trick-or-treating

she honestly thought that it was like a truth or dare thing where the trick-or-treater would choose one and that's what they would get

and last new years, when you were visiting your family with her, she nearly grabbed her gun when your family members opened doors and yelled that something was rushing out the door

you had to physically restrain her, which was very hard by the way, just to explain to her that new years tradition

her most recent confusion was about the 12 days of christmas song

she thought that it was a tradition for americans to give their loved ones gifts on the twelve days leading up until christmas

december 14

on december 14, yelena gave you 12 pieces of paper in a jar

needless to say, you were very confused

but when you looked closer at those pieces of paper, you noticed her handwriting on them

you pulled the slips of paper out of the jar and read each one

it took you a moment to realize that she was listing twelve reasons why she loved you

her reasons went as such:

you let me protect you

you listen and try to understand

you never judge me

you try to take care of me (even when i don't want you to)

you can always make me laugh

you enjoy eating the food i cook

you make me smile when you smile

your beautiful, perfect face

you don't mind my family no matter how annoying they are

you are gentle and thoughtful

you never second-guess choosing me

you are you, and that's enough

december 15

on december 15, yelena gave you 11 HUGE bouquets of all of the colors of the rainbow

the flowers she chose were:

calla lily (white)

azalea (pink)

rose (red)

tulip (orange)

sunflower (yellow)

carnation (green)

blue daisy (light blue)

iris (blue)

lavender (indigo)

lilac (purple)

winter pansy (black)

december 16

on december 16, yelena took you to a nearby bowling alley

for every pin you did (or didn't) knock down, of which there are 10, she gave you a kiss

for one game, that would be like 20 kisses

and you didn't play just once

december 17

on december 17, yelena gave you a 3 year old cat (with 9 lives)

it was a BEAUTIFUL fluffy ragdoll

it was mainly white with brownish-greyish bits on the tail and face

you literally fell in love with it

yelena explained to you that she had gotten her from a shelter and she was about to be put down since nobody wanted her

you named her dima, which means "strong warrior"

december 18

on december 18, yelena gave you 8 pies

of course, yelena made them all herself

how? you had no clue

nevertheless, they were AMAZING

she had made:

cherry pie

pecan pie

pumpkin pie

blueberry pie

apple pie

peach pie

coconut cream pie

december 19

on december 19, yelena gave you tickets for 7 separate vacations to each of the seven continents of the world

they were planned for the summer, of course

naturally, you were very excited

december 20

on december 20, yelena gave you a simple little poem that she wrote with 6 lines

she wrote:

"once i sat engaged and blessing, remembering many romances, beloved desires, when my heart got stuck in the briars.

i awoke and flung the feeling; shook and spun off nature's dart, realizing i was the bur upon your heart.

yelena <3"

december 21

on december 21, yelena took you on a day trip through all 5 of the boroughs in new york

on your little trip, you saw or went on:

the bronx zoo and new york botanical garden in the bronx

the brooklyn bridge and dyker heights in brooklyn

the rockefeller center tree and times square in manhattan

museum of the moving image and cunningham park in queens

the staten island ferry and the boat graveyard in staten island

december 22

on december 22, yelena introduced you to the fantastic four

johnny, of course, tried his hardest to get your number, but stopped after his sister, sue, gave him a dirty glare

ben was pretty intimidating

i mean, how could he not be

he was huge

but he was really nice

and so was sue and reed

ugh you loved sue immediately

she was so kind and friendly (and got her brother to stop flirting with you), so what was there not to like?

and reed talked the most, but he seemed really smart and nice

overall, a great experience

you thanked yelena with as many kisses as she would allow

december 23

on december 23, yelena gave you every movie from each of the star wars trilogies

that's a total of 19 hours and 39 minutes worth of star wars movies

naturally, you two spent the rest of the day, curled up on the couch while watching them together

well, you weren't watching the whole time

of course, sometimes one or both of you fell asleep or just had a conversation mid-movie

the movie wasn't that important to either of you though, so it was okay

december 24, christmas eve

on december 24, christmas eve, yelena gave you a pair of ice skates

yelena knew that you were interested in skating, so she thought to get you a pair

and these weren't just a crappy beginner's pair

no, not even close

these were literally over $100,000

like hello?? yelena?? what are you doing spending that much on a pair of ice skates

you were super grateful though

you ended up going out that night to a local skating rink and trying them out

(you loved them)

december 25, christmas day

and finally, on december 25, christmas day, yelena gave you a box

it was a simple, little, velvet box

there was no fancy decoration or anything

it was just a box

but how yelena gave it to you and its contents were not so simple

you opened it and saw a ring

a beautifully adorned ring with a HUGE diamond in the center

when you looked back to her, she was on one knee

she opened her mouth to make some huge speech about how much she loved you

but you didn't need to hear it

you already knew all about that

you didn't even give her a chance to talk

you just whispered a gentle 'yes' and kissed her like you never had before

and that was the greatest gift of all...not the ring

no, you couldn't care less about the ring

it was yelena that was the gift you cherished most

[kenzumekodma]

18+, minors & ageless blogs dni

apothecary witch reader au; chapter two

summary: “You fucking poisoned me,” the scrawny man repeats. “What the fuck are these?” In his cupped palm he holds ten or twelve small, bright red berries.

pairing: izuku midoriya x fem!reader, katsuki bakugou x fem!reader, tomura shigaraki x fem!reader

wc: 2052

warnings: quirkless fantasy au, plot with eventual smut, still introducing one more crucial character here, more warnings to be added as they arise in future chapters

chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Pine needles… dried cranberries… cinnamon… anise… that’s coming together nicely…

You scribble notes into the book at your desk. It’s been a few weeks now, and you’ve come to tell the time based on who was knocking at your door. Around 9 o’clock in the morning it would be Izuku, looking for salves, poultices, mixtures, and on the odd occasion just some simple healing magic on superficial scrapes and cuts. You never questioned him, and he never gave an explanation, just shot you a sheepish grin and a “Me again, sorry.”

Katsuki comes around 9 o’clock at night. He looks for nothing, asks for nothing, and speaks freely in a way only the night permits. Sometimes he comes with fresh bruises. But you’ve come to know that bruises and Katsuki Bakugou go together like bread and butter. Little tiffs are still as common as they’ve been over the years you’ve been on the edges of each others’ existence. Week by week, though, you come to an agreement a little sooner.

“I’m just saying, if you’d chew on some of these, you’d feel better. I know my shit,” you insist, holding out a handful of yellow flowers to him.

“And I know my body. It’s just a bruise. I’ll be fine,” Katsuki grumbles.

“Fine, be a stubborn brat,” you say, rolling your eyes at him. “At least have a cookie.”

“ ‘M not a fuckin’ brat,” he mutters under his breath, but reaches for the plate anyways. He’s quiet as he munches on the shortbread. “Shitty Deku still coming to you?”

You hum an affirmative. “I ought to give him a discount, he’s my best customer,” you chuckle.

“He’s not a charity case,” Katsuki shoots back. “He can afford it as well as anyone.”

“Maybe you’d get a discount too, if you were nicer to me,” you tease.

“Like hell. I’d end up paying you back like I used to.”

You let out a small half laugh. Silence falls, thick and tense between you. Minutes pass, with Katsuki looking towards you but avoiding your eyes. And you, focusing more intently than necessary on attaching your little sunflower squares together. Abruptly, he stands.

“I know you put it in the cookies,” he says. “Thank you.”

You smile a halfhearted smile, and he leaves.

It’s just after dawn when you find yourself waking. Much earlier than you’d have liked and much more unsettled. The dream you’d had is quickly fading from your memory, just the image of two freshly filled graves in a clearing and the feeling in the pit of your stomach that one of them was yours.

“That’s the last time I doubt the amount of nutmeg in anything before bed,” you grumble to yourself. Your heart is still beating low and slow in your throat, stuck on that mental picture burned into your brain. Can’t hurt to look… you think.

Pulling a housecoat over your shoulders, you venture out around your cottage to the window box in front of your shop door. You rub the sleep from your eyes, swearing you see a scrawny form scurrying away into the edge of the forest bordering on your garden. Shaking your head, you continue on. Human or not, they’d be long gone by the time you got over there to investigate. It had best know what’s edible, you think.

The sight of your chaotically loved little box settles your soul. You pluck a red toadstool with white spots on it, and a few coarse, silvery leaves of sage. Birch bark catches your eye on the ground across the cobblestone road. Perfect. You shuffle over and gather up a handful.

Back in your cottage, you set your collection on the table. You pluck a dried amanita muscaria hanging from a beam in front of the window and replace it with the fresh one, and repeat with the dried sage hanging across the room. Never hurts to be prepared. Taking your mortar and pestle from the back counter and two dried bay leaves from the jar beside it, you place it on the table beside your haul with a grunt. In goes the dried toadstool, in goes the dried sage, in goes the bay leaves. Shit, right, the bowl.

You sit, sure that you’ve got everything you need now. You place a piece of bark in the bottom of the footed bronze bowl, building a tent shape with the rest. A couple of small pieces of wood from the fireplace work for filler. And you set to starting a fire.

You strike the flint with a piece of steel curled around your knuckles with practiced ease. The sparks jump to life, catching on the edge of a piece of bark. With a deep breath, you focus your mind and your energy on the freshly turned soil. Will yourself to smell it, to feel it surrounding you, will yourself into the vignette. The flames crackle and groan as they wake in front of you. You take a pinch of the powder and scatter it over the bowl. Small pops resonate through the quiet room. Deep breath, you think as you inhale through your nose, letting the smoke from the powder enter your lungs. It takes a moment, but you know it’s working.

The flames ebb and flow till you can see a gaunt young man. His eyes are hidden in the dark, but you see a wide, chapped mouth with a scar running down the left side. Honestly, you’ve never seen lips more in need of clove oil and lanolin. The fire flickers, and his eyes are revealed, tugging at your core like a thread. Familiar and strange all at once. He bores into you, as if he can see your soul, though he’s not really there, you’re not really there. Black wool cloaking his form lends a stark contrast to his pale skin. Mentally you start compiling a list. Cherry flesh, lime juice, that man needs it. Rum and a little sugar to make the lime juice go down… Deep scratches adorn his neck. Hell, a spruce tip tea twice a day would even be a good start. His bloodshot eyes roam around, looking at you can’t see what. Trembling light gives way to darkness, and the fire falls.

You set your kettle on the hook of the tripod over your fireplace. The water takes its sweet time to come to a boil, giving you time to dress yourself. A practical skirt of lightweight grey wool hits just above your ankle, showing well worn taupe boots, laces tied around your ankles. A dark, woad dyed shirt carelessly tucked into your skirt, something you can fix before anyone sees you this morning. As it stands, if anyone dares to see you right now, they get what they deserve. You run your fingers through your hair. Right! mug!

As the water comes to a boil, you pull a mug off the shelf by your kitchen basin board. The last of your ground coffee beans and some dried chicory root get tied up into a neat little scrap square of muslin, perfect for infusing into the water. A spoonful of sugar cut from the cone and some cream you’d sealed away make for a comforting drink to properly start your day.

Your morning is uneventful, as is your afternoon. Like clockwork, Izuku and Katsuki show up at 9 and 9. Izuku stays for tea, bearing fresh milk from Ojiro’s farm. Sure, his hands linger on yours, he gets closer than usual when saying goodbye, but it’s nothing too far out of the ordinary. Katsuki keeps quiet. He sits pensively across the table from you, seeming to take comfort more in knowing you’re there than anything else. You can tell there’s countless things he wants to say, but you also know that Katsuki Bakugou will not be persuaded to say anything he’s not ready to say yet. So you sit. Silently, sure, but with him.

It’s nearing midnight by the time Katsuki leaves. He puts all he can’t bring himself to utter into a squeeze to your hand. You watch his retreating form from your front room window, blond hair disappearing into the darkness. A sudden rap on your side door jolts you back to your senses. You hurry towards the noise and open the door. Your eyes widen at the sight of a man in a hooded black jacket. Tall, thin, and looking worse for wear. The glint of carmine eyes confirm what you suspect. The same man from the vision this morning.

“You. You fucking poisoned me.”

“Come again?” you ask, bewildered.

“You fucking poisoned me,” the scrawny man repeats. “What the fuck are these?” In his cupped palm he holds ten or twelve small, bright red berries.

“Oh,” you say.

“Oh,” he mocks. “Oh’s right. Been sick all day.”

“You know what? That’s on me. Not my brightest move to put a cherry tree and a bittersweet nightshade shrub next to each other.”

“You don’t say.”

“Hey. Keep up that attitude and I won’t help you,” you scold. The man huffs indignantly, but sits in the chair you’re gesturing to nonetheless. “Now, there’s not a whole lot I can do about the nightshade. That’ll have to finish running through your system. The bright side is, if it hasn’t killed you by now, you’ll be fine.”

“Then why am I still here?” he hisses.

“Attitude,” you tut. “I don’t know why you’re still here. But while you are, you’re going to eat a couple of these.” You open a drawer in your medicine cabinet and pull out a couple of rose hips. You set them on the table in front of him before busying yourself with preparing a concoction of lime, honey, and bruised spruce tips.

“And why should I trust you? You nearly killed me.”

“Look, if I nearly killed you, I’d remember. Trust me. I know the difference between my plants. Unlike you.”

“Why would I need to know the difference between plants? It’s in someone’s yard, therefore it’s edible,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You have a point, but you’re missing a tiny, crucial detail.” You set the brew in front of him.

“And that is?”

“Some things are only edible once.”

He rolls his eyes. Regarding the liquid you’ve left for him with suspicion, he twiddles with one of the rose hips. It’s in his hand, that’s a start. You point at the fruit between his fingers.

“Will it help if I eat one too?” you bargain. He purses his lips, but nods. If his hair was blond, I’d swear he was a second Bakugou, you think to yourself. You pick up the remaining rose hip, making sure he watches you. “No tricks here, stranger,” you say, then deposit the fruit on your tongue. Chew, chew, chew, swallow, open. “All gone. And I’m still standing. Now go on.”

Reluctantly, he brings the fruit to his lips. He pauses a moment to look in your eyes, as if to search for a shred of deceit. Finding none, he slides it between his teeth. He chews, and chews, and scrunches his nose, but he swallows nonetheless. He opens his mouth to show you it’s gone. “Good boy. Now, drink.”

“Not your good boy,” he grumbles.

“Who are you, then?” you challenge.

“Not your business.”

“You’re sitting at my table, I think it is my business.”

“If you need to know, you’ll know.”

You pull the mug towards your end of the table. “Alright then. If you need to live, you’ll live,” you say, pettiness creeping into your voice. You could swear you’ve had nearly the same argument with Katsuki word for word, years ago. He scowls at you.

“Tomura.”

You hum, a smug smirk slinking onto your lips. “Tomura who?”

“Tomura nothing. That’s all you’ll get.”

“Fine, I can live with that. I’m --”

Tomura holds his hand out to stop you.

“I don’t need to know,” he sneers.

“Alright then. Drink up and be on your way,” you snap. In the time it takes him to finish the drink, you have your supplies put back away neatly. You turn your back to him to stoke the coals in your fireplace. When you turn again, he’s gone.

[avis-writeshq]

Pretty Setters and things they remind me of

characters: oikawa, sugawara, akaashi, kenma, kageyama, atsumu

warnings: fluff [fem!reader]

other: repost (again) because tags didn’t work (again)

oikawa: staying up until four to finish assignments, star gazing, snow angels, face masks at twelve in the morning

 although oikawa might look like a flawless piece of art on the outside, on the inside he’s insecure and doing more than one hundred percent just to show that he is good enough. no, not just good enough. he wants to show that he’s better than all the people who stood over him. staying up late to watch volleyball videos and tactics is just one of his unhealthy habits. however, he does make time for himself, even thought that makes him look like a narcissistic person on the outside.

 he’s perfectly imperfect, just like snow angels. for some reason, they never turn out the way you want them to be. star gazing to oikawa is peaceful – he can finally forget the world and get lost in the billions of stars that light up the night sky. but he knows, that no matter what happens, you’ll always be his brightest star.

sugawara: forgotten algebra homework, coffee at nine in the evening, summer breezes, melted ice-cream

despite looking well put together, sugawara is a chaotic mess who has no idea what he’s doing. he put so much time in volleyball and other activities he sometimes forgets about his academics, hence the forgotten algebra homework at the bottom of his bag. he spends the rest of the evening trying to finish three chapters of overdue class work, drinking coffee late at night in a desperate attempt to get everything done.

 summer breezes are gentle, just like him. he’s caring and loving to the people he cares about, and he sacrifices so much for the sake of other people. summer breezes are cool in contrast to the glaring sun. they give comfort when needed and it’s always appreciated. melted ice-cream is for his messy but beautiful personality. despite all that, you just so happen to be his calm when he brings his own storm.

akaashi: rustic libraries, nature cafés, yelling your problems over a canyon, chicken noodle soup

 he’s naturally studious and hardworking, always doing his best to succeed despite the amount of pressure that is placed on his shoulders. he always remembers important dates and the little things in life – your favourite book, your favourite cake flavour, your favourite song. small insignificant little details that seem to be unnecessary but turn out to be the most important. nature cafés have a certain aspect to them that calms people down. it allows people to have a clear mind and a calm outlook towards their situations.

 no matter how calm and stoic he looks, akaashi tends to overthink with an anxious heart. he blames himself when things go wrong – a people pleaser who doesn’t even know it. however, he knows that keeping things to himself is unhealthy. so instead he yells it over a canyon, wide and vast as his problems get lost in the echoes. chicken noodle soup is a classic pick-me-up. it brings warmth and love into your body, healing you of illnesses. that’s what you are to akaashi. you are his warmth and his love.

kenma: late night video calls, cat beanies, two am road trips, chai lattes in the snow

 he calls you all the time to check on  you after graduating high school. university is hard, so it’s not easy to see each other in person, so video calls are the next best thing. you rant to each other about the loud dorm mates and the bad cafeteria food. you gifted kenma a cat beanie before graduation and he’s worn it ever since. it was like a way to have you with him when he was two hours away from you.

 of course he would go on road trips. the only reason he would ever go was for a stream, but nevertheless, it was a fun experience. chai lattes were one of kenma’s favourite drinks. You accidentally got the wrong order and gave him a chai, and he’s loved it ever since. he drinks it whenever it’s cold outside, mainly because it gives him a sense of warmth. it was a similar feeling to when he was with you. but you could give him that warmth with just a small smile.

kageyama: walks in the park, dark chocolate mochas, promise rings, ballroom dancing

 no matter the weather, kageyama loved walking in the park with you, hand in hand. in the middle of winter, he would tuck your hand into his jumper pocket to keep it warm. dark chocolate mochas just so happen to be one of his favourite drinks – it isn’t too sweet and it can keep people warm in the best way.

 kageyama gave you a promise ring in your last year of high school after noticing how your gaze would shift to the jewellery store ever so often. sugawara gave him the idea for the promise ring after hearing his first idea to ‘propose’. clueless as he was, tobio knew what a promise ring was, he just never really thought about it. ballroom dancing has a certain elegance to it, so when he first tried it out with you, he kept stepping on your toes. you always laughed it off with him, giving him a small sense of peace and he always admired you for it. peace… something that he needed and something you always gave to him.

atsumu: sunflowers in the spring, throwing small rocks at your window, oversized t-shirts, matching outfits

 your first date with atsumu just so happened to be in a sunflower field, the bright flowers bringing smiles to your faces. throwing small rocks at your window was what he did when he found out you were having nightmares. he caught you as soon as you climbed down your window and he took you to the nearest convenience store to get ice-cream while you ranted about what happened in your nightmares.

 the oversized t-shirts brought comfort to you whenever atsumu was away for a long training session. he would give you one of his jerseys or shirts, so of course with his six feet form they would all be hanging over you like a dress. however, despite that, atsumu loves it when you wear his clothes because he finds it adorable. that included cute couple outfits he would find on tiktok and pinterest. it gives him the idea that, yes, that’s my girlfriend and i love her.

[stiltonbasket]

Nielan fathers day prompt! Sorry if its late, but how about finding out they're going to be parents on Fathers Day? (mpreg, adoption, surrogacy, your choice).

anon: the first fathers' day after jingyi is born, modern lxc and nmj both set up a present for each other "from Jingyi." It's very cute. Baby Jingyi magnanimously chews on his foot and accepts giving two presents and meals.

this is for the art thief au, so lxc is trans here!

(ao3 link)

----

What should I give Xichen for Father’s day?

Nie Mingjue has been puzzling over gift ideas for the past two weeks, with no luck whatsoever. Jingyi is still too small to make them gifts, so he and Xichen use the occasion to exchange presents with each other and label them with their little boy’s name; Xichen probably picked out his gifts already, since he knows Nie Mingjue’s tastes like the back of his hand, but Mingjue keeps flipping through mail-order catalogues and crossing off their entire inventory as he goes.

“I have present,” Jingyi insists, as Nie Mingjue carries him down yet another aisle of their local department store. “A-Die, look!”

Mingjue looks. A-Yi is holding a six-pack of orange bath sponges, since Xichen mentioned that they needed some more earlier that morning.

“That’s not a Father’s Day gift, A-Bao,” Mingjue chides, kissing Jingyi’s forehead. “Last year, I gave your Ba a brooch with his initials on it, remember? It has to be pretty.”

Jingyi wrinkles his tiny nose. “Starfish?”

“Mm, the starfish brooch.” Lan Xichen has an impressive collection of jewelry, with most of it coming from gifts Nie Mingjue gave him over the course of their fifteen years together; and nearly all of the pieces are sea-themed to go with his husband’s wardrobe and his clear, moon-white skin.

Perhaps he could buy pearls, this time?

“A-Yi,” he says slowly, “what do you think about going to the discount shop across town?”

A-Yi is happy enough to go wherever his father goes, so Nie Mingjue drives to the discount store--full of discarded, overstocked, and secondhand merchandise from all over the city--and digs through the bins of jewelry until he finds an antique bracelet, strung with pearls carved into the shapes of starfish and clam shells. Jingyi nearly loses his little mind at the sight of it, and he squeals at the top of his lungs while Mingjue pays for the bracelet and bundles him back to the car.

“I know them,” he declares, when Mingjue gives him the bracelet to play with on the way home. “Diedie, it’s a clam!”

Mingjue glances up at his son’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “Can you count how many clams there are?”

Jingyi flings himself headlong into the task, counting twelve starfish and eleven clams, and then he peruses the Learning Reader books Xichen keeps in the back seat until Mingjue carries him into the house.

His husband runs to meet them at the door, and it is this, not the driveway or their well-worn doorstep, that means Nie Mingjue has finally come home.

______

To Nie Mingjue, stepping into his woodworking studio feels like stepping into another world.

It isn't that the studio looks very different from the rest of the house--in fact, Nie Mingjue had a tiny nursery built into the north corner, since he set the studio up with A-Yi’s needs in mind--but Mingjue feels different here, more sure of himself, and aware of his own thoughts and hopes as he scarcely is anywhere else. He had only to enter, and he was changed: his hands steadier, his heartbeat slower, and his mind somewhere distant and immediate all at once. It is here that he pays homage to his heart, his muse, and the dearest friend he has ever had, or ever will. It is here that he pours pieces of his love for his husband into everything he touches, and everything he makes, and emerges with pieces of polished art like testaments to the husband he vowed his life to. 

“That isn’t a metaphor,” Nie Mingjue said once, when Huaisang asked what he meant. Mingjue has carved everything from furniture to lamps into shapes reminiscent of his husband’s lips, perfected the stems of wooden sunflowers to match the sweet arch of Lan Xichen’s neck, and burnished every last one of his creations until they shone like sunlight falling on the apples of his husband’s cheeks. He etches A-Huan’s expressions into the faces of statues intended for the foyers of upscale hotels, and into a thousand quarter and sixth-scale figures commissioned by model collectors, since he rarely has any excuse to sculpt his husband directly. But today he does, so he sits down at his bench and gets to work with a block of oak and his favorite gouge and chisel.

He will love this, Nie Mingjue thinks, as two bowed heads and a pair of smiles take shape under his hands. This is the most beautiful thing I have ever made.

He glances over his shoulder at Jingyi, fast asleep in the glass-walled nursery with his feet up in the air, and turns back to the sculpture with his heart quivering in his chest.

______

The sculpture takes about a fortnight to complete, almost exactly the span of time between the day Nie Mingjue begins working on it and the holiday it was intended for. Nie Mingjue wakes up early on Father’s day, leaving Xichen asleep behind him, and bundles A-Yi out of bed and down into the studio. They wrap the sculpture up together in Jingyi’s favorite gift wrap, and then Nie Mingjue carries him to the kitchen just in time to catch his husband as he comes stumbling down the stairs.

“Good morning, love” Lan Xichen sighs, burrowing into Nie Mingjue’s arms. “What should we have for breakfast?”

“Eggs?”

For some reason, Lan Xichen shakes his head.

“Noodles, then?”

This suggestion is met by a drowsy nod, so Mingjue goes to the fridge to dig out  a few ingredients while Lan Xichen hops onto one of the bar stools with Jingyi in his lap. He chops the scallions and garlic for plain noodle soup around their son’s little body, leaving Mingjue to boil noodles in one pot and stock with soy sauce and sugar in another until three blue bowls of yang chun mian are steaming on the counter.

“Smells yummy,” Jingyi yawns, while Xichen spoons fresh green onions into his soup bowl. “Baba, feed A-Yi?”

“He’s forgotten about the presents,” Lan Xichen mouths, as Nie Mingjue tries not to snicker. They eat quickly, slurping down the noodle soup with cups of soy milk on the side, and then Jingyi scrambles to the other side of the room before running back with Mingjue’s wrapped box in his arms.

“Father’s Day gift!” he squeaks, wriggling like a happy worm as Xichen laughs and tries to remove the gift wrap without tearing it; because Jingyi never lets either of them cover gifts with anything but Pingu penguin-printed paper, and he cries if anyone rips it up in front of him.

Mingjue used the weakest tape he could find, so that Xichen could extract the box with the paper left mostly whole. He hands the paper to Jingyi, watching as his husband’s slender fingers close around the base of the sculpture, and then--

“Oh!” Lan Xichen gasps, pulling it all the way out into the light. “A-Jue, I--”

The sculpture depicts him and Jingyi at the beach near their house--in fact, at the same beach where Mingjue and Xichen first met. Mingjue was sitting on a sandy rock, catching his breath after running around behind a hyperactive Nie Huaisang all day, and then he looked out over the foggy water and saw what looked like a water spirit drifting out of the darkness in a rowboat.

He sculpted Xichen seated on that very rock, with his long hair tangling in an invisible gale, and a little heap of shells (the pearls from the old bracelet he found at the discount store) piled up in his lap. Jingyi is standing on the ground at his feet with a wave of seafoam brushing his ankles; and in his hands is a small pearly starfish, offered up to his baba as Lan Huan leans forward to cup A-Yi’s cheek in his palm. Both father and son are smiling, with heart-breaking happiness in A-Huan’s eyes, and sheer pleasure at finding the starfish in Jingyi’s.

Nie Mingjue looks up at his own flesh-and-blood husband, tearing his eyes away from the wooden figure, and finds Lan Xichen sitting there, frozen, with tears rolling down his face as he traces the tiny ridges and dimples of stone and sand and water.

“It’s beautiful,” he chokes, rounding the corner of the table to throw his arms around Nie Mingjue’s shoulders. “It’s the most precious thing you’ve ever made, sweetheart.”

“The most precious thing I helped make is over there,” Nie Mingjue teases, tilting his head at A-Yi. “But I think this one comes pretty close.”

Xichen opens his mouth, and then closes it again; but Jingyi interrupts before he can say anything else, impatient to present his diedie’s gift from his baba.

“Now this one!” he shouts, diving into Xichen’s pocket for a small present in a wooden box, labeled with Jingyi’s name just like Nie Mingjue’s gift was. He all but shoves it into Mingjue’s hands, leaping up and down on the spot while he snaps the lid open--and then he screeches with delight as Nie Mingjue goes crashing to the floor, staring at the contents of the tiny box until his eyes blur over.

He had expected some kind of memento or trinket, like he usually gives to Xichen. But the box was so light, impossibly light--and it holds a pair of hand-knitted baby socks, set neatly on top of a black and white photograph with his husband’s name printed in the upper left corner.

Nie Mingjue has already been a father, already accompanied his husband through the endless doctors’ visits and checkups that came before Jingyi was born. He saved all of Jingyi’s ultrasound pictures, even the ones where A-Yi looked like a chubby white bean on the sonogram, and he stared at every photograph for so long that reading them comes as second nature to him.

"A-Huan,” he says, after a long pause. “Please tell me I’m not dreaming this.”

“You’re not,” Lan Xichen laughs, wiping Mingjue’s face. “I had my first doctor’s visit last week when you and A-Sang took Jingyi to the park. And the clinic ran a few blood tests just in case, so I already know it’s going to be a girl.”

“And you’re okay? Both of you?”

“Very okay, darling. I haven’t even had any morning sickness yet, and the baby’s perfectly healthy.”

Nie Mingjue only cries harder, at that; but Xichen is crying too, clasped in his arms while A-Yi climbs all over them, so perhaps it doesn’t really matter.

All in all, this is the sweetest father’s day he has ever had.

[shorkbrian]

hnhuhuhuhuu

For some reason? I’m seeing them as like, staff at like a restaurant. Like Kiri’s a waiter, Bakugou’s a chef (ofc).

(No NSFW, they scare off a S/O, gender neutral reader)

So you go this nice restaurant with your family one night, y’know, family dinners and all. The waiter’s cheery, smile brighter than a field of sunflowers. The ambiance of the place is nice, the food is delicious, but really, it’s the service that makes you want to come back. 

The redheaded waiter is so quick, so attentive, refilling your glass of water as soon as you take a sip. He cracks jokes while your family decides what to eat (even when your dad goes through the e n t i r e menu and asks what each item tastes like) and somehow, his upbeat mood puts you in a happy mood yourself.

Your mom asks for the chef - apparently she’s so impressed with the food that she wants to thank him personally (she owns the bakery you work at, so it makes sense that she can recognize hard work and dedication to the art of making food).

A grumpy blond comes out, escorted by the redheaded waiter, and your entire family showers the two men in compliments about the food, the service, their looks. You gave your own two cents, telling the brusque chef that his food is exquisite, that he’s incredible; telling the bright waiter that he was amazing at his job, he made the dining experience ten times better.

The redhead blushes, cheeks going bright as his hair as he stammers his thanks, and the blond fixes you with the most intense stare you’ve ever felt in your life. It’s intimidating, but you just offer a friendly smile, and his eyes slide away.

The pair retreat back to their work stations, and your family finishes their food. Before you go, the redheaded waiter saunters up to the table with a smile, says the meal is free of charge. 

----

You go back to the restaurant a few times - often solo, occasionally with a member or two of your family. You always get the same waiter no matter where you sit, Kirishima, and you’re grateful - he’s such a fun, happy man.

After the first couple of times, the mean-looking chef, Bakugou, comes out to your table whenever you arrive. Apparently Kirishima tells him when you show up, and then the two men hover and ask what fancies your palate tonight, how your day was, anything fun happen since the last time you came? Bakugou always prods, asking gruffly what you thought of the dish he made for you last time, asks what you’re in the mood for, maybe something sweet? He’s intimidating, but whenever you compliment or praise him, the tips of his ears turn red.

It becomes a common occurrence for the two men to get yelled at by their coworkers, admonished for giving a customer such blatant special treatment. Bakugou yells back, disturbing the rest of the restaurant. Honestly, it’s embarrassing having the other customers give you nasty looks, as if you were the one forcing the two men to spend thirty-plus minutes catering to you. Kirishima is hardly ever less than an arm’s length away, and if you so much as cough, the big man is rubbing your back, making sure you aren’t choking. His eyes are always on you, even if he has to go serve someone across the room.

Soon, it becomes uncomfortable enough that your visits become less and less common. Each time, you get bombarded with prying questions - What’s keeping you so busy? You don’t like the dishes Bakugou’s making for you? Is one of the other customers bothering you? 

You try to keep your answers short - work’s been crazy, you love the food Bakugou makes, no Kiri, none of the customers are bothering you (unlike two very persistent employees).

They aren’t satisfied. Bakugou pushes for your number, and when you dodge the insistent man. Kirishima writes both his and Bakugou’s cell down on his order pad, tucks it into your purse with a smile.

Somehow they get your number.

Both of their numbers get blocked. 

You stop going to the restaurant.

---- 

When you get into a relationship, you’re so excited, and it’s been a while since you’ve gone to the restaurant, that you don’t even consider Bakugou and Kirishima when you take you S/O to the restaurant. 

You should’ve.

The lively, spirited Kirishima is sour, curt, short with you as he takes your order, glares at your date when they order, scoffs when they take a second to decide.

Bakugou comes out after your meal, doesn’t notice your date when he storms over to badger you about where you’ve been, why you blocked their numbers. Then he catches sight of the person sitting opposite you. He goes quiet. Kirishima comes up besides him, whispers something in his ear, and then both men are glaring daggers at your poor S/O, who’s noticeably uncomfortable.

You file a complaint with the restaurant manager. 

Your S/O quickly breaks it off with you the next day. Something about how they don’t think you mesh well together. You know that it’s probably because of the threatening way they were treated at the restaurant.

You storm over to the restaurant right before it closes, barely restrain slapping Kirishima in the face when he brightens at the sight of you, completely alone. You hiss that you’d like to talk to him and Bakugou, and Kirishima quickly agrees that the three of you need to talk, but they’re both working right now, so wait ten minutes until they close,’kay? Then they’re all yours.

Twelve minutes later sees you sitting down at a table across from Bakugou and Kirishima, both men watching you expectantly. You tell them off.

They’ve been harassing you, they ruined your relationship by being possessive and intimidating jerks to your S/O, they’ve crossed several boundaries.

You honestly wanted to just yell at them for a bit.

After you finish your tirade, both men are irritated. Eyebrows drawn low, Bakugou’s mouth twisted into the fiercest scowl you’ve ever seen; Kirishima leaning forward, tapping his fingers slowly across the tabletop, face pinched, angry.

You get up to leave, neither man stops you. 

Somehow, as you push open the heavy restaurant door, you feel like you’ve made a mistake.

When you wake up in a dark room, no memory of what you were doing, where you were, how you got here - you know you’ve made a mistake.

When a door opens, flooding light into the tiny, barren room, you realize you made the worst mistake of your life.

Bakugou and Kirishima, stalking towards you like two apex predators, are going to make that clear.

Yeah, Bakugou crouches down next to you, cocks his head, smiles; Kirishima circles behind you, puts a giant hand on your shoulder - you’re going to regret brushing them off.