#because their barber touched their face for a second

[acmeangel]

Levi always cut his own hair. Always. Over the bathroom sink, the door open just a sliver, a crease between his brow, his lips set in a straight line.

You knew this about him. You figured it was just another one of his habits and particularities, like how he has to brew his own tea. You tried once, and when he took a sip, his nose twitched and he asked “How did you make this?” — not quite an insult, he couldn’t bring himself to be completely rude to you, but you knew what he meant. You haven’t made tea since.

But the hair cutting. He’d never announce it, never make a comment about it after. If you told him it looked nice, he’d simply make a noise of acknowledgement and move on.

You’d simply find him, in the bathroom, door cracked open, while he leaned over the sink, snipping pieces of hair with practiced precision. The muscles in his neck, shoulders, and back would flex and move with every motion, the tension lingering within them obvious. The irises of his eyes looked cloudier, distant, and that crease between his brow persisted. Always.

You push the bathroom door open, slowly, soundlessly, as if a sudden movement would make him disappear into thin air. Sometimes, you thought it might.

You lean against the doorway, watching him — he catches your gaze in the mirror for just a second, his eyes locking onto yours with a fleeting vulnerable intensity, before he focuses on himself again.

You just want to help. It’s all you ever want to do, really — to take over some of the tedious little things he does by himself every day, just because he’s always done them by himself. Bit by bit, you want to show him that the weight he carries on his shoulders is something that can be shared, that you’d carry it with him, happily.

“You know, there are these things called barbers that are pretty good at this sort of thing,” you tease, gently, a faint smile curling onto your lips. You knew a groan was coming, but you also knew he appreciated your teasing. It made him feel more grounded.

Groan. Tch.

“Why would I pay someone to do a shitty job?” His eyes flicker to yours in the mirror again, a touch softer this time.

“Want help with the back?” you ask, your eyes lingering on the strands of hair that have begun to grow down the curve of his neck. “I’ll do it for free. It’s really quite a steal.”

“No,” he says. Instantly, flatly.

You walk over closer to him, as he snips the hair in front of his face.

“I won’t mess it up. I can handle trimming a few pieces of hair.” You smile at him in the mirror, and your hand finds its way to rest on the nape of his neck, gently.
He flinches, slightly. He never moved away from your touch anymore — not since the early days of your relationship, where every affectionate touch was foreign to him. In fact, now he usually leaned into it, wanted it.

“I can do it myself.” His voice comes out a little lower, a little rougher this time. His eyes don’t find yours in the mirror.

“Okay, Levi.” Your hand retracts from his neck, and you exit the bathroom. You didn’t want to push, you never did. You learned that with Levi, things had to progress a little slower. It had been like that since the first time he kissed you — his lips had been so light against yours, his hands just barely cradled your face. He’d never admit it out loud, but you knew he was afraid — afraid to let himself care about something precious, afraid that you’d leave him one way or another, afraid that he’d never be able to give you what you deserve.


You knew none of it was true. You loved him, and you weren’t going anywhere, and you loved the way he loved you. Quietly, subtly, through actions and small gestures, instead of words and big romantic displays. It was all you’d ever need.

You didn’t need him to sweep you off your feet or tell you that he loved you every day. You were just as happy waking up every morning to a warm cup of jasmine tea on your bedside table, in your favorite mug that he had once spent hours fixing after the time you had dropped it. It was always made perfectly — something he’d learned just for you, despite calling it “that herbal crap.”

Seeing the way your lips curved into a smile after taking a sip was really the only thing he ever needed.

So, you leave the bathroom and you get into bed, and you wait for him to join you.

A short while later, he does. He slides into the bed beside you, his head finds the place on your chest that it always does. His head turns away from you, the back of his neck a faint red from rubbing it with a towel, tiny drops of water glistening in his hair.

You reach out and stroke his hair — while he doesn’t let you cut it, he will always let you run your fingers through it. You’ve found that it soothes him, that it helps him relax at night.

He makes a noise of approval, of affection.

“I’ve never let anyone cut my hair,” he says after a while, a hint of apology in his tone.

“Levi.” Your hand continues to stroke his soft hair. “You don’t need to explain it to me.”

“My mom was the only person who’s ever cut my hair.” His voice is low, a rare softness to it, as he admits this, his face turned away from you. “I don’t want…” His voice trails off.

He doesn’t need to continue. You know what he means. He’d told you bits and pieces about his mom, about his childhood, and you’d been able to put it all together. You could tell, by the way he talked about his mom, that his memory of her was starting to slip through his fingers — and now, it seemed, the way she cut his hair is one of the few memories left.

“I know,” you say, your voice soft. “Don’t worry. But, at least let me get you some better scissors for it.”

A long, gentle silence falls between you two. Your eyes trace the slope of his shoulder, the slow rising and falling of his breathing.

He turns over, his head faces toward you. Your fingers drift from his hair to the curve of his cheek.

“Maybe… next time, you can help.” His voice is a slight, relaxed mumble, and his eyes search yours. “With the back. It’s a pain. Practically break my damn neck doing it.”

Mmm, you hum, nodding softly. “Alright, I will.”

“Just don’t make it uneven. Or I might have to leave you for a shitty barber.”

You laugh, and you smile. This is all he ever needs.

The corners of his lips twitch into a faint smile. His hand reaches up to capture yours as it gently caresses his face, and he presses a soft kiss into your palm. You know what this gesture means.

“I love you too, Levi.”

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Masterlist

Requests are open!

[leashybebes]

fic: in deep devotion [bucktommy, t, 1k]

hey, gang. have 1000 words of buck having feelings about tommy's gray hairs.

It's been weeks since they've had overlapping time off that hasn't been filled with plans. Tommy's back at work tomorrow afternoon, while Buck is only on the first day of his 72 hours off. He's determined to make the leisurely, lazy best of the overlap and so far, it's a strong tick in the mission accomplished box.

Tommy had made breakfast and coffee while Buck slept off the last of his twenty four hour turned twenty eight hour shift, and they'd eaten in bed. The second cups of coffee that Buck ventured out into the kitchen for wound up going cold because when he got back, Tommy was propped up against the pillows and the sight of him made Buck's breath catch in his throat. One kiss turned into two, turned into teasingly wrestling each other across the bed.

read the rest on ao3 or below

A playfully energetic half hour later sees them like this - naked, breath slowly returning to normal, Tommy's head pillowed on Buck's belly. Buck flails out one hand and grabs a pillow, shoving it under his head so that he's propped up enough that he can look down at Tommy. He has his eyes closed, a half smile curling his mouth, and he just - he takes Buck's breath away. They're coming up on a year into their second go around, and the sight of Tommy, sated and relaxed and here is still enough to make Buck's stomach do a happy little flip. It's not like it was when they first got back together - a little anxiety underpinning a lot of excitement. He feels like they've put in the work now, both of them, so it's more like oh, of course you're here. You'll always be here. You belong here.

In the late morning light, Tommy's eyelashes are practically casting shadows on his cheekbones, and there's a beam of sunlight right across his face. It's probably why his eyes are still closed, just tightly enough to make some of the lines around them stand out clearly. The silver in his hair and in his stubble is all but sparkling in the sun, calling to Buck like a siren song.

Buck strokes his fingertip against the grain of Tommy's stubble, up into his sideburns, close cropped because he went to the barber after his last shift, up further across his temple, watching the way the light plays off the gray hairs as his finger presses across them. There's a patch at the bolt of Tommy's jaw where the grays are more concentrated and Buck touches his fingertips to it. God, he loves how Tommy doesn't shave on his days off. He looks so good.

"What are you doing?" Tommy asks, a laugh around the edges of his voice, and he turns his head to look at Buck, stubble scratching against his ribs, right on the edge of tickling.

"Your grays really show in this light," Buck says, touching his fingers to Tommy's temple again.

Tommy leans into the touch and smiles at him. "Careful, baby. You're gonna make me self-conscious. Should I pick up some Just For Men next time I'm at the store?"

It's clearly a joke, but Buck's heart sinks just at the suggestion.

"Don't you dare."

Tommy laughs and rolls off him to lay at his side. Buck digs a hand into the hair at the top of his head and tugs gently.

"Hey. I'm serious. Absolutely no hair dye. I'll bite you."

"Sorry, is that supposed to be a disincentive?"

"Tommy."

"What?" Tommy says, nudging his head into Buck's touch. "Would it ruin the daddy vibes for you?"

"It's not about that," Buck says.

"No?"

Buck smoothes his fingers through Tommy's hair, down to that silver patch of stubble on his jaw.

"You have more now than when we met," he says, not quite able to explain why that makes his heart beat harder. Not faster, but harder.

"Okay?" Tommy says, corner of his mouth curving up the way it does when Buck's being particularly entertaining. "That's generally how the relentless march of time operates. Except on you, apparently. I swear I'll find that attic portrait you're hiding someday."

"I love it," Buck blurts. "You've changed. I've watched you change. I - I love it."

Tommy's smirk turns into something softer, a little wonderstruck, like he knows exactly what Buck's trying to say.

"Evan…"

"I just - come up here and kiss me, please."

Tommy does as he's told without a moment's hesitation, boxing Buck in, bracing himself with a hand on either side of Buck's head, dropping soft, affectionate pecks onto his cheeks, his chin, his mouth. It's not enough and Buck pulls him into a proper kiss, messier and more urgent than when they were laughingly getting each other off before.

"You're bigger," Tommy says between kisses. "More solid. Stronger. The - the calluses on your hands are rougher. I've watched you change, too."

"Yeah," Buck says, warmth blossoming in his chest because that's it, that's exactly it. Time shared will carry on being written across their bodies, weeks and months and years of little changes and big ones. Changing hairstyles, changing clothing preferences, changing tastes in food, changing hobbies. And they get to see it all. He tugs Tommy into another kiss. "Isn't it - isn't it the best thing in the world? I can't wait to see what you look like when you're forty five. Fifty. Sixty. Retired in a rocking chair on the porch."

Tommy laughs against his mouth. "I'll look like an old man."

"Yeah," Buck agrees. "Yeah. My old man. Bring it on."

He runs his hand through Tommy's hair again, tips his head gently to kiss the lines that frame his eyes. The sun continues to warm them and he thinks beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

[bellysoupset]

Weird

"Hi," Leo said softly, circling Jonah's chair and stealing a quick kiss. His fiancé was sitting down at the fancy cafe, already nursing a hot drink which Leo took as a hint he was probably late by Jon's strict standards.

Still, Jonah kissed him back without complaining, pulling Leo's chair so they were sitting with their knees touching instead of across from each other, "what are you having?" he asked, looking up for a split second from the planner in front of him.

"Uhm- I think I'll have a mocha..." Leo allowed his voice to drift off, he didn't feel like speaking today, there was an annoying little ache behind his eyes and he wasn't feeling very energic, although it had been a long day at the office, so he blamed that.

"Alright," Jonah pushed his planner on Leo's hands, "I made a timeline of the wedding prep this month, can you take a look? I'll go get your drink."

Leo's stomach filled with butterflies at the mention of the wedding, but also as Jon was so soft. It wasn't his usual state, but lately he had been in such a good mood, nothing seemed able to upset him.

"Okay," he nodded, grinning widely as Jon grabbed his chin, kissing him before he walked away. What a sight he was, turning heads left and right, Leo thought smugly, watching him dreamily until he saw Jon's head disappear down the stairs, then turning his attention back at the planner.

He had no idea what any of that meant and usually Leo was pretty good at file organization. He was known for his skillsets at research, so the blonde pouted, squinting several times as he took note of what Jon had planned for them.

"Finish wedding list" started the following week, marking a long sequence of colored squares. There were two separate Spa Day marked, one with L next to it, the other one with J. Leo's was on a Sunday, Jonah's on a Monday since his breaks were random unlike Leo's set schedule. The following Tuesday was marked as Photoshoot, with a note "L request the day off." A week later, there was "Stationery pick-up", "menu tasting" and "send save the date", piled all up in one day. "Start seating chart." "Finish flowers order." "Band or DJ? DECIDE!" "J suit picking" "meeting with Andrea and Julia (flowers)", "L suit picking," "bridesmaid outfits DECIDE." "J suit alt-"

"What do you think?" Jonah startled him, planting the mocha mug in front of Leo and sitting back down, tugging at his pants as he did so, "Is there anything you think we can get ahead of ourselves and decide earlier?"

On the white foam of his latte, there was a cat drawn on. Leo smiled at it, leaning back on his chair and sliding the planner back to his boyfriend, "I think its overwhelming," he admitted, feeling a stab of guilt. He wanted to be way more hands on than he was being, but simply wrapping his head around the sheer amount of numbers and creative decisions was too much for him, something that Jon did swiftly as if he got married every other Tuesday.

"It's intimidating, I know," Jon was all diplomatic today and Leo took a gulp of his drink, shivering as the hot beverage warmed him up. He perked up on his seat, forcing some energy he didn't feel, only because Jonah was all happy and he didn't want to confess he'd much rather be in bed by now.

"Uhm, okay-" Leo rubbed at his forehead, "why do I have a SPA day in the schedule?"

"Because we're having pictures taken Tuesday," Jonah frowned, confused, "duh? Mani, pedis, hair, eyebrows-"

Leo scrunched up his face in disgust, not one bit pleased at the idea, "I have a barber, I'll go there-"

"It's our photoshoot," Jonah groaned, "I'll not trust the abilities of Peter the Barber, sorry. Soraya cleared her whole day for you, all you have to do is show up and enjoy."

"Soraya?" Leo pinched his nose bridge, a self conscious shiver running down his back. Soraya was going to be dolling him up like a painted Ken? Cool, cool, cool-

"Baby," Jonah glared at him, although he didn't sound upset, "leave Oklahoma behind, alright? She's an amazing professional, with an eye for detail. Besides, having your nails filed and your brows picked will not affect your masculinity."

Leo pouted at the idea, but chose not to pick a fight, taking another sip of his drink, "fine... Let's- Let's finish the wedding's guest list."

"Alright," Jonah perked up visibly, moving closer and flipping through his planner so he found the long list of names.

Leo would like to say he was paying close attention to it all, but in truth his eyes hurt as he squinted at Jonah's swoopy calligraphy and it only took him about five minutes to rest his head on his fiancé's shoulder and hum at whatever he was saying.

"Monacelli, party of four or do I include a plus one for Sophia?"

"Four?" Leo rubbed at his temples, giving up on his drink halfway through since it was sitting heavily in his tummy, "you don't wanna invite the baby?"

"The baby- No, of course Livia is invited," Jonah looked offended, "I didn't include Vince, since he's in the best man category."

"Oh," Leo nodded, "I don't care about including a plus one, maybe ask Vin if she has a boyfriend-" he yawned and blushed as Jonah raised his eyebrows, "sorry."

"Are you sleepy?" Jonah's voice softened up and it took everything in Leo to deny it, when all he wanted was to cuddle up in bed. However, he knew if they went home, he was going to pass out within minutes and not finish the damn list.

"No, I'm fine," Leo shook his head, rubbing his eyes, "how many did you put for my office? Mitchell's has a whole husband whom I never saw."

"I marked him as well," Jonah gave him a luminous smile, "I'll sic Wendy on them, she'll network a promotion for you."

Leo snorted at the idea. Not that he thought it was hard, quite the contrary, he wanted Wendy away from his work people exactly because he was one of those people who talked business so effortlessly. She made him look introverted and useless in comparison.

"Talking about her," Leo wrinkled his nose, "you did not include her asshole parents, did you? I don't want them there."

Jonah hesitated and Leo rolled his eyes, realizing he had clocked Jon at his overly polite persona.

"Nope," Leo shook his head and regretted it as he felt queasy immediately, "get rid of them. In fact, you did not include Luke's dad, did you?"

"Absolutely not," now Jonah looked offended, "he can throw fifty tantrums, he wasn't there for Lucas' wedding, he certainly won't be for mine."

"Good," Leo lowered his head back down to Jonah's shoulder, "did you put a plus one for Angie?"

"Angie...? My Angie? My sister?"

"Do you know any other Angie?" Leo snorted, feeling slightly claustrophobic. His sweater was gluing to his back, "she's gorgeous, she'll for sure have a boyfriend by then. Stunning and French? C'mon, now."

Jonah let out a scoff, "a boyfriend? Baby, please, does your gaydar work at all?"

Leo pulled back, confused, "oh? I didn't know that."

"It's a miracle you could tell you were gay in the first place," Jonah teased him, pressing a kiss to his temple, "I'll include a plus one to Angie then- Now, the hospital..."

"Urgh, not that asshole Chr-" Leo interrupted himself suddenly, as a prickly wave of nausea washed over him. He clammed his mouth shut as the coffee-chocolate taste flooded his throat, hot liquid licking at it.

"Leo?"

The blonde straightened up, clamping a hand to his mouth and taking slow breaths to his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. It took several seconds before he recovered, but as he was able to lower his hand once again, Leo felt his whole body ache as weakness overtook him.

"I wanna go home, I'm not feeling well," he admitted quietly, as Jonah looked just about ready to jump at him and shake him like a rattle toy.

"Yeah, I can tell," Jonah was glaring at the side of his head, "why didn't you say anything sooner?"

"Wasn't bad earlier..." Leo groaned, gulping down as the queasiness peaked again, "can we just go? Bill's paid, right?"

"Right," Jonah closed his planner, putting it away in his suitcase and offered Leo a hand, pulling him up, "do you need me to drive?"

"No," Leo tried his best to keep the whine out of his voice. He had forgotten they had driven there separately, "no, I can drive. Just wanna get home..."

"C'mere," Jon cupped his cheeks as soon as they stepped outside, the cold night air causing Leo to shiver, "you're a little warm, but I don't know if it's a fever..."

"Jon," Leo sighed, "let's just go?"

It was clear Jonah wasn't one bit happy about them being apart when Leo wasn't feeling well, but he nodded and allowed the blonde to get inside his own car.

It was only twenty minutes to their building, but Leo felt like hell the whole drive. His stomach was churning, audibly bubbling and groaning inside the quiet vehicle, and he seemed unable to regulate his body temperature, switching between freezing cold and boiling hot.

A little burp crawled up his throat, but fizzled out, causing Leo to groan out loud. His headache went up a notch and he let out a whine, digging the heel of his hand against his temple.

As soon as he parked inside the garage, next to Jon's car, Leo threw his door open and pitched forward, bringing up a nasty wet belch.

"Ah, love..." Jonah's voice was really soft and Leo reached out blindly, until his hand found his boyfriend's jacket and he squeezed it, "are you gonna be sick?"

"Think- I think I just gotta-urugh-burp..." he mumbled, trying to burp again, but failing at it. Jonah moved so he was next to him, instead in the line of fire, and rubbed Leo's back, patting it softly and forcing up a string of squeaky hiccups.

He heard Jonah chuckle at the squeak toy noise, but Leo only let out a loud groan at the sound, his stomach rolling as another pat pushed a deep, brassy burp past his lips. He spread out his legs, feeling clammy and nauseous and not wanting to get his shoes covered in vomit, "fuck, I don't-" another gurgly, wet belch came up, this one bring a sliver of relief.

Leo let out a sigh, swallowing air and forcing up another big burp before he was able to properly stand up, "sorry..." he stumbled slightly as Jon steadied him, "gross."

"You can never be gross," Jonah said, all adorable and causing Leo to roll his eyes at his saccharine tone.

"Yeah, tone down the charm, Jonah," he scoffed, wrapping an arm around his stomach and falling into step next to him, "I'm sorry I ruined the wedding planning, we can keep talking in bed."

"Eh, it's fine, I think we have most of the list down anyway," Jon shrugged, leaning against the back of the elevator and absently mindedly petting the hair touching Leo's nape, "I'll finish it up while you sleep and tomorrow you can take a look and give me your notes."

"Sure," Leo squeezed his eyes, trying to blink away the little dots. HIs stomach let out another uncomfortable gurgle and Jon frowned, moving to rest a hand on it, but was interrupted by the elevator stopping on the first floor to pick up a guest going to the 4th floor.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight..."

Leo shuffled, even more claustrophobic now. It was a fancy building, but it was also a newer building, meant the elevator was tiny instead of large and spacious like in Wendy's vintage building. He could swear the woman in front of them could hear every single noise his tummy was making.

His cheeks were burning and he had his lips pressed tight to stop any burp from coming up, as she got out and waved at them. As soon as the door closed, Leo let out a groan and folded forward, planting his hands on his knees as a sickly, tiny, burp came up.

"God... Do you think she could tell...?"

"No, baby, are you crazy?" Jonah scoffed, grabbing his shoulder, "you're swaying, are you dizzy?"

"A little," Leo's mouth was watering now and he knew, vaguely, this meant he was gonna be sick, but he was feeling to lethargic to care. He felt Jonah grab his elbow as the elevator came to a swift stop and drag him forward towards their door.

As soon as Leo stumbled inside, he gave up the notion of walking all the way to the bathroom, stumbling to the kitchen sink and heaving.

Jonah's hand was a steadying anchor as he cupped Leo's sweaty, clammy forehead and kept him from taking a dive into the empty sink. Nothing actually came up, except for a few mouthfuls of colored spit. Now his neck and abs ached from the effort of heaving several times.

"I wanna lie down..." He mumbled, stumbling back and meeting Jonah's chest.

"Uhm," was Jon's answer, an unsympathetic grunt that Leo knew meant he was worried but trying his best not to go full doctor mode. He didn't say anything else as he dragged the blonde to their bedroom.

"No, baby, you can't sleep with me..." Leo berated slightly as JD climbed their bed and rubbed her head against his chin, wanting to curl up in his arms, "I'll give you germs."

"The cat, not me, your fiancé," Jonah scoffed, helping Leo peel out his sweater. The blonde frowned, nerves more than a little fried by how awful he felt.

"You can sleep in the guest room..." He said in a choked up voice and Jonah's hazel eyes widened as he realized he was about to make Leo cry.

"Don't be silly, whatever it is I probably already caught it," he berated, then cringed at his own harshness, "besides, I don't want to go anywhere."

"Okay..." Leo rubbed at his forehead, shaking his head as Jon grabbed a pajamas shirt, "no, don't want- Don't want anything touching me. I'm too warm."

"Okay..." Jonah looked at him in a puzzled manner, reaching for the thermometer in their bedside table, "under your tongue."

"You said I wasn't warm..." Leo groaned, but put the device in his mouth and fell back against the pillows with a sigh, kicking away the blankets and resting a hand over his belly, which was still churning.

"You're acting very much like you do with a fever," Jon shrugged, moving around and out of the room. He came back a minute later with a tall water bottle and a bowl, planting it next to Leo's head, just in case.

"Uhm-" Leo tried to grab the thermometer then gave up as it beeped away. His arms felt heavy and his head was positively throbbing now. He was starting to get cranky, he wanted Jonah gone and the lights off.

"No fever," Jonah announced, planting the device back on the bedside table.

"Don't sound so disappointed," Leo scoffed, closing his eyes, "I wanna sleep..."

"Okay, yeah-" Jon sounded conflicted and the blonde couldn't see him, but he could feel him pacing around, hesitant before planting a kiss on his forehead and leaving the room. The orange haze behind his lids vanished as the lights turned off, but when Leo cracked his eyes open for a second, he saw their bedroom door was ajar.

He let out a sigh, exhaustion pulling him down in what he hoped would be a dreamless sleep.

TBC

[leafington]

𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙖 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙘𝙪𝙩! 𝙘𝙪𝙩, 𝙘𝙪𝙩, 𝙘𝙪𝙩! - kento n.

content warning !! - blackfem!reader, nanami's charisma being sky high, culture shock (on nanami's end), fluff, not proofread, self-inserted barber experience (i get my lineups at home), ib an ugly fucking picture of the back of nanamis head and his barber clearly needs to be fired.

It's pushing thirty minutes that you've been gawking at the back of your husband's head. When he first got home and threw his stuff where they belonged, you knew something was wrong. You, as the supportive wife you are, came to his aid and stepped back seeing his grumpy expression.

"Be honest, how bad is it?"

Nanami did not want an honest answer because he's locked himself in the bathroom ever since because of the 'Who the fuck did your hair?' that escaped faster than your brain could register. You didn't mean it in a bad way, you were just upset due to some unlicensed prick who ruined your man's hair.

Uneven, cut horribly wrong, hairline crooked, he practically came home a different man and not in the good way. "Baby, it'll grow back." You console him, scrunching your face. He's never had a problem with his stylist until today, what made today different? Nanami shrugs off your hand originally positioned in his hair, his tone sour. "Not in three days time. How am I supposed to go to work like this?" You would call him dramatic but if you were in his shoes, you'd be mad too.

"Maybe you could wear a hat? Or like some sort of headband, scarf—" You list, replacing your touch to land on his back. "And is any of that appropriate for a professional workplace?" Shit, you're just making it worse, and the look on your face isn't helping.

Nanami's far more pissed now, you've been staring at it all day. He gets it, his cut is bad. He's beating himself up about it that he let it happen! He tries to forget about it, but suddenly there's a reflection of him everywhere in the house. To make matters significantly unfavorable, Gojo's laughter erupted from his phone later in the evening spouting all sorts of comparisons to his nasty do.

"YOU LOOK LIKE ANGELICA'S DOLL HAHAHAH." His loud exclamation gets cut off by the phone being inable to pick up how hard he's laughing. "STAR TREK CALLED, THEY NEED A NEW CAST MEMBERRR." It was almost sad to watch Nanami try to even muster up the ability to yell at him, Gojo isn't even calling him for his first purpose anymore.

His day has been everything stemming from the word rough. Nanami turned his back away from you like it was your fault (it was) in your shared bed. You tried googling solutions to his problem, nothing came up besides 'Quick tips on hair growth!' and '5 Easy Steps to Obtain Natural Hair Growth!', while drenching his hair in oil might do the trick, it wouldn't save him the embarrassment for his upcoming day at work.

Essentially, you forgot all about it when you opened up social media to mindlessly scroll for a bit. Coincidentally, a post from a close friend came up that showed off a client's hair he did. You liked it and scrolled once more before a thought crossed your mind.

"Ken?" You tap his shoulder lightly. "I think I can fix your..." You eyeball at his head in the dark, questioning if it can even be remotely related to hair. "problem." And you show him the short footage. Nanami skeptically looks between your phone and you, internally wondering if you're being genuine. "With all due respect, I understand you're trying to help, but I do not want that kind of style nor do I think it'll hold seeing as how different our hair textures are." A groan comes out shortly after rolling your eyes. "I'm not suggesting you get waves, Kento. I'm saying I could try to get you a booking there to at least attempt to save your head."

Seconds of silence pass, becoming a minute later, before Nanami heavily sighs and tosses his arm over his head. "And you trust him enough to where I won't end up bald?" He double-checks. "Yes. His wife does my hair for everything and I took my nephew there to get himself straight." Hesitantly, he throws a nod of confirmation, allowing you to message your friend to see if he could squeeze in an emergency booking for Nanami.

You weren't aware that you got a reply until the morning, luckily, your friend agreed to take him in whenever the two of you could come. After getting dressed and cleaning up a little, you shuffled through your purse to make sure you were prepared. Nanami, on the other hand, wore one of your silk pink bonnets on his head to hide the disaster beneath it.

It was a last resort, but whatever kept him satisfied.

The drive there wasn't long in your eyes, but for Nanami it was down right torture. He didn't know these people other than your friend who ran the barber shop, that and he's breaking the universal law of staying loyal to his standard barber—even if he'd never forgive him, he still felt bad. Having parked your car off to the side, your husband stood awkwardly when you tried to drag him inside despite his constant protesting, you had to promise him you'd take him out for bread later, bribing him like a little kid.

"Hey, Y/n! Long time no see." Your friend greets, permitting a side hug as additional welcome. He turns to Nanami wearing what he presumes is your bonnet, and fights off a chuckle. "And you must be her husband?" He goes for a dap, and to your shock, follows through, patting each other on the back. "I am, Y/n speaks quite much and highly of you." He raises an eyebrow at this and mutters something about you and your type for sticks in the mud. "Let's see the damage." The male prompts for Nanami to take the makeshift protectant off.

Collective 'Damn's' and hisses erupt in the small room, your friend even thinning his lips and coughing to hold back a cackle. A few barbers stopped what they were doing or snapped their attention back to their job, even some customers didn't even wanna look.

"Stop it. He's been pissy about it enough." You grimace, and your friend throws an arm around Nanami. "Don't worry, man. You're in good hands." He whisks Nanami off to his chair, grabbing an apron cape to put over him.

You, yourself, worry about Nanami's adaption to this new environment. The constant chatter of controversial topics, sports, things that bother them or don't understand. It's less impressive than sitting at his desk while a scheduled person comes in. From your spot across the room, he was surprisingly doing fine. They kept everything to a minimum seeing as you were present, but Nanami was actually getting along with everyone quite well! He bonded with your friend and his workers, discussions shifting like clockwork, weight lifted off your shoulders at this, feeling comfortable enough to finally acknowledge whatever kept blowing your phone up.

Nanami sat there for no longer than thirty minutes, paying his new friend a large wad and sending him off not only another firm dap but a decent style that didn't make him look dragged through the dirt. "You look good." You smile, running your fingers across his clean-cut gently. "I feel good." He lets you do as you please. "They were awfully talkative, not that it was a bad thing." He admits, slightly shaken from how much speaking he did. "I don't even think you talk that much to me." You tease, now gushing over his much better hairstyle.

©2024 leafington dont steal please!! :)

[xiaotuzu]

am I..a bkdk shipper? Yes. Now here’s some headcanons cuz fuck the hyper fixation is crazy right now.

BKDK HEADCANONS

Izuku definitely steals the blanket while Katsuki hogs the bed.

Katsuki probably worked in a barber shop (because he was def the type to be like “not my money but my parents’ money”, so he made some of his own) OR learned how to do a bit of hair from Best Jeanist— Izuku’s hair grows really fast, so Katsuki will always be the one to trim it and make up an excuse like “You seriously gonna pay that much money for a fucking trim?”

Their typical dates isn’t everyone’s ‘typical dates’— they totally prefer extreme sports or like physical activities as dates.

Izuku sleeps late but wakes up early and can survive with only 3-4hrs of sleep. Katsuki sleeps early but doesn’t wake up as early because he needs exactly 8hrs to even 10hrs of sleep.

Izuku can’t style himself FOR SHIT. So Katsuki’s always picking clothes out for him.

They can both cook and either take turns cooking for each other or cook together. Katsuki would make Izuku cut the vegetables while he seasons the meat.

Izuku is amazing at baking and Katsuki is lowkey a sweet tooth.

Katsuki has like amplified and enhanced taste buds (LITERALLY CANON IM PRE SURE) and can literally taste when there’s something missing. Izuku’s cooking can sometimes come out bland but he always makes sure Katsuki is taste testing.

Katsuki’s high spice tolerance is slowly rubbing off on Izuku to the point that he’s the only one that can keep up with Katsuki. He even catches himself lowkey craving something spicy (honestly so real cuz like me too).

Katsuki is a neat freak which means his quite minimalistic but the his decor is exquisite. Izuku is a chaotic neat freak which means his got so many stuff (AM merch…) but they’re all properly organised and cleaned.

LITERALLY KATSUKI’S PARENTS DYNAMIC.

They can’t flirt for shit— yes I’m all for Izuku’s sassiness but I just know he can’t with Katsuki. And vice versa. So their flirting consists of eye contacts and awkward laughs/smiles. (“OMG HE MADE EYE CONTACT WITH ME FOR 5 SECONDS. DOES THAT MEAN HE’S ASKING ME OUT?!”— Izuku, probably) (“He smiled at me. Fuck, what do I do?!”— Katsuki, probably)

Izuku’s a freak, I just know. Not like freak~, as in FREEAAK. He def read some Y/N x reader fanfics…and Katsuki lowkey indulged in some ship fanfics too. Izuku definitely wrote some and Katsuki may or may not have read them without knowing (I READ A FIC ABOUT THIS BEFORE).

Katsuki has a 10 step skincare routine (despite having amazing skin genes) whereas Izuku just splashes his face with cold water and calls it a day.

Spa night in Katsuki’s room surely (the girls definitely included obviously).

Katsuki is so act of service and gifts and Izuku is so words of affirmation and physical touch. Both are quality time.

Hardcore gossipers. Both so nosy as fuck honestly (def gossips about the Todoroki Fam Drama 😭)

Katsuki texts with long paragraphs and Izuku sends individual texts.

Izuku is an avid emoticon user and Katsuki uses emojis.

Izuku’s an android user and Katsuki’s an apple user.

…And I think that’s it! (for now…) I definitely have more stored up in my brain but it hasn’t seeped into yet.

[jo3ydr3w]

Stobotnik Week Day 7

Prompt 1: Haircutting

“You’re fidgeting.”

“I’m not fidgeting.”

“You are. You’re brushing your bangs out of your face every six seconds. I counted.”

Stone sighed and lowered his tablet. “It’s just getting a little long. I’ll cut it later.”

Robotnik spun in his chair like a gremlin overlord. “No need. I’ll do it.”

Stone blinked. “You’ll… cut my hair?”

“Yes,” Robotnik said, already storming across the lab, coat flaring. “It’s a distraction. An aerodynamic flaw. A hazard to precision. I will not be defeated by rogue follicles.”

Stone hesitated. “Do you… know how to cut hair?”

“Stone.” Robotnik grabbed the lab scissors off the workbench. “I once built a fully functional robotic barber drone with emotional regulation issues. Of course I know how to cut hair.”

“That drone tried to give a police officer cornrows,” Stone reminded him.

Robotnik grinned. “Exactly. Flawless craftsmanship. Now sit down.”

Stone sat on an overturned crate with a towel draped around his shoulders, trying not to laugh as Robotnik made incredibly intense faces behind him, scissors flashing like he was defusing a bomb.

“Hold still,” Robotnik muttered. “This side is rebelling.”

“It’s just hair.”

“It’s not just hair. It’s part of your silhouette. Your whole presentation. Your face is too symmetrical to be hidden behind this mop. I am liberating your bone structure.”

“You’re really passionate about this,” Stone said, amused.

“I’m passionate about efficiency. Also, you’re hot and it’s annoying.”

Stone choked.

Robotnik paused mid-snip. “That was a joke,” he said, absolutely lying.

The final result was… surprisingly decent. Shorter on the sides, still a little tousled on top. Clean. Sharp. A bit softer than Stone had expected.

Robotnik handed him a mirror like he was presenting a war medal. “There. No more tactical weaknesses.”

Stone tilted his head, then smiled. “Thanks, Doc.”

Robotnik sniffed. “I accept your praise.”

He turned away, already grabbing a broom—but paused just long enough to glance back and say, far too casually:

“…If it grows out again, I’ll cut it for you. Just say the word.”

Stone grinned. “Deal.”

Prompt 2: Breakfast

It started with eggs.

Robotnik hated mornings. They were a reminder that time still moved forward and that he hadn’t managed to control that yet. But today, something smelled suspiciously like… breakfast.

He shuffled into the lab’s kitchenette in bare feet and an oversized robe stolen from a defunct general. His hair was already in chaos mode. He looked like a war crime in progress.

And there was Stone.

Stone, standing at the stovetop in a soft black t-shirt and slacks, flipping something in a pan with practiced ease. Coffee brewed nearby. The lights were low and warm.

Robotnik narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing.”

“Making breakfast,” Stone said, unfazed. “You didn’t eat yesterday, Doctor.”

“I consumed seventeen energy drinks and an entire bag of pistachios.”

“Which is not breakfast.”

“I invented breakfast. Once. During the mushroom period.”

Stone plated something onto a dish and turned around.

It was eggs. Two perfectly cooked sunny-side-up eggs, yolks gleaming, arranged very deliberately to resemble a familiar shape.

A shape Robotnik knew all too well.

“…Are you mocking me?” Robotnik asked, stepping closer. “Because if this is about my mech designs—”

“Not at all,” Stone said smoothly, sliding the plate toward him. “I thought you might appreciate the theme. A personal touch.”

Robotnik stared at the plate. Then at Stone. Then back at the plate.

“They do look like my Egg-Bots.”

“Mmhmm.”

“They’re even positioned like—like the primary sensor domes on the Mark 5 hover drones.”

Stone just sipped his coffee.

Robotnik sat down without another word and picked up a fork. He took one bite. Then two. Then all of it.

He didn’t say thank you.

But when Stone turned around to rinse the pan, he noticed Robotnik had carefully arranged the two empty eggshells on the counter.

In the shape of a heart.

Prompt 3: Dancing

The lab was quiet. For once.

The screens had dimmed into standby mode, drones docked and recharging, metal arms folded neatly against the walls. The overhead lights were low, casting everything in soft blues and warm shadows.

Stone was at his workstation, going over a diagnostic report for one of the crab mech’s stabilizers. His world was clean numbers and calm silence until—

A flicker of music.

He looked up.

Robotnik was across the room, standing like a question mark with a tablet in one hand and the other awkwardly behind his back. A speaker near the ceiling was playing a quiet instrumental—a vinyl-record crackle in the background, something vintage, slow, and rich.

“…You dancing, Stone?” Robotnik asked, like it was a code phrase.

Stone blinked. “What?”

“Do you want to dance.” His voice was clipped. Hesitant. Defensive. “You know. The thing. With music. And movement. Like sentient mammals sometimes do.”

Stone just stared at him, gently lowering his stylus. “You’re inviting me to dance. You. Doctor I-only-dance-alone Robotnik.”

Robotnik twitched. “Don’t get smug.”

“I’m not.” Stone stood, already walking toward him. “I’m just making sure I’m not hallucinating.”

“You’re not. I already tested the air filters.” He swallowed. “I just thought… if I’m going to share the floor with anyone—”

“You’d want it to be me.”

Robotnik scoffed. “Don’t make it weird.”

Stone smiled and held out his hand.

Robotnik took it.

They danced in awkward silence at first. Just a shuffle, a slow sway, their feet unsure. But then Robotnik placed one hand carefully on Stone’s back, the other holding his hand in a surprisingly firm grip, and moved with slow purpose.

He wasn’t graceful. But he was intense. Deliberate. He leaned in, letting the music loop and fill the space like gravity.

“This used to be sacred,” Robotnik murmured. “I didn’t let anyone in. Ever.”

“I know.”

“But you’re not anyone.”

Stone looked up at him. “I know.”

Prompt 4: Laundry

It started with a sock.

Robotnik had been tearing apart the upper level of the lab looking for a specific blueprint when he opened a maintenance closet and found—oddly—warm air.

And a sock. A folded sock, sitting neatly on a shelf.

“…What,” he muttered.

Following the heat and the sound of soft splashing, he descended the stairs into the under-lab storage room that was supposed to be used for spare drone parts and leftover crab mech shells.

Instead, he found Stone. Kneeling on the floor. Hands submerged in a plastic tub, rhythmically wringing out one of Robotnik’s black turtlenecks. His sleeves were rolled up. A faint trail of lavender-scented steam drifted from a kettle-powered rig nearby.

“Stone.”

Stone jolted, splashing suds on the floor. “Doctor!”

Robotnik stared.

Stone stared back.

Silence.

“Explain.”

Stone tried to wipe his hands on a towel. “I was doing your laundry.”

“By hand?”

Stone gave a sheepish smile. “Yes.”

“We have a washing machine.”

“It stretches out the collars,” Stone said quickly.

“There are settings for that.”

“You hate the dryer sheets.”

Robotnik’s nose twitched. “They smell like despair.”

Stone stood and started wringing out a pair of pants with militaristic precision. “I don’t mind doing it. It gives me something to focus on. Meditative.”

Robotnik looked around. There was a little line strung across the ceiling with socks clipped on it. A perfectly folded stack of his clothes sat on a crate, neatly organized by level of wearability. Everything smelled clean and familiar.

He blinked. “We can just… hire someone. GUN has enough overpaid ‘handlers.’”

“I don’t want anyone else touching your stuff,” Stone said simply.

Robotnik stared.

“And besides,” Stone added, tucking a damp sleeve just right, “I’m the only one who knows how to fold the sleeves so they don’t crease your shoulder seams.”

Robotnik continued to stare.

Then—awkwardly—he reached into the tub, plucked out a sock, and held it up. “What detergent do you use?”

Stone smiled. “The one that doesn’t smell like despair.”

Prompt 5: Morning Coffee

Stone’s eyes fluttered open to a… presence.

Not sunlight. Not birdsong.

A looming, caffeinated presence.

Robotnik was sitting at the edge of the bed, legs crossed unnaturally, perched like a goblin on a throne. In his gloved hands: a mug.

Stone blinked a few times.

“…Doctor?” he croaked, voice still gravelly from sleep.

Robotnik beamed like a feral cat. “Ah. There you are.”

Stone sat up, squinting. “What are you…doing?”

“Observing the miracle of your unconscious twitching habits.”

“…What.”

“You kicked in your sleep precisely eleven times. Once every three minutes. Fascinating stuff. Possibly neurological.” Robotnik leaned forward, pressing the mug into Stone’s hands with unnerving gentleness. “Also, I made coffee.”

Stone stared at the mug. Then at him. “…You made coffee.”

“Yes. For you.”

Suspiciously, Stone sniffed it. Real beans. The roast he liked. A perfect splash of oat milk.

Robotnik, somehow sensing the hesitation, raised a brow. “You think I’d poison you. With coffee.”

“No. I think you’d poison me on principle, and accidentally make perfect coffee while doing it.”

“Tch. Please. I only poison government agents I don’t like.”

Stone took a sip.

It was perfect. Smooth, warm, a little earthy, just the way he always made it for Robotnik.

“You watched me sleep for—how long?” he asked, still waking up, brain slowly catching up to the situation.

“Forty-three minutes,” Robotnik replied without missing a beat. “You drool slightly to the left.”

Stone rubbed a hand down his face. “Why…why would you—?”

“I wanted to see your face when you woke up to something good,” Robotnik muttered, suddenly fiddling with the seam of his glove. “You always make it for me. I thought maybe… I don’t know. You deserved a moment.”

Stone blinked again. He wanted to say something, something charming, something coherent—but instead he just took another sip of the coffee, hiding his face behind the mug.

Robotnik stood up, striding toward the lab door. “Don’t get sentimental. I’m still going to scream at the blender today.”

“Understood,” Stone called after him, voice warm.

Robotnik paused in the doorway. “…Let me know if you want a second cup.”

Stone smiled into his coffee. “Always.”

Prompt 6: Sleeping

The lab was quiet, humming only with the low static of monitors left on standby.

Stone was curled on the old couch tucked in the corner, a blanket barely pulled over his shoulder, but his body was taut—shoulders rigid, fingers clenched, breath uneven. Even asleep, he looked like a man waiting for impact.

Robotnik paused at the threshold. He had come down to scavenge a charging cable but instead found Stone mid-nightmare, face twisted in some silent memory, brows drawn like he was still in the field, still waiting for an order or a gunshot.

Robotnik hovered, unsure.

Then—

Stone startled awake with a sharp gasp. Sat up too fast. Looked around like he forgot where he was.

Robotnik didn’t say a word.

Stone ran a hand down his face, trying to steady his breathing. “…Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

Stone glanced up, and Robotnik could see the hesitation before he asked, barely audible, “Will you… stay?”

Robotnik tilted his head.

“Not with me,” Stone added quickly, like he regretted it already. “Just… in the lab. So it’s not—empty.”

There was silence.

Then, Robotnik stepped forward, dramatic as ever, and flopped onto the couch beside him with zero grace. He grabbed the edge of the blanket and pulled it over both of them.

Stone blinked.

“I meant—”

Robotnik huffed. “I know what you meant, Agent. But I’m staying like this.”

Then his arms wrapped around Stone, tugging him in without fanfare, and before Stone could resist, his head was resting over Robotnik’s chest, catching the rhythm of his heartbeat, steady and real.

Stone’s voice was hoarse. “Doctor…”

“Hush,” Robotnik muttered. “You can sleep. I’ll… guard the perimeter or whatever it is you think I do.”

Stone exhaled, a shaky sound that was almost a laugh. He didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. His hand lightly gripped Robotnik’s coat.

After a moment, Robotnik added, quieter, “You can wake me up if you need to.”

“I thought you weren’t sleeping.”

“Well, if you’re going to be needy, I may as well recharge.”

Stone finally smiled, breath evening out, eyelids heavier now.

“…Thank you,” he whispered.

Robotnik didn’t reply.

But his hand stayed resting on the back of Stone’s head, steady, warm, and not letting go anytime soon.

Prompt: Shopping

Stone didn’t exactly ask for company when he headed out to the store. He was used to doing it alone—shopping, grabbing the essentials, maybe picking up a few snacks to munch on while he worked in the lab. It was simple. Routine. A necessity.

But apparently, Robotnik had other plans.

“Why,” Robotnik grumbled, trailing behind Stone like a disgruntled shadow, “do you insist on performing this… this menial task so often?”

Stone glanced back at him as they entered the store. “I’m just picking up groceries. You know, food. To survive.”

“Survive? Pfft. I could survive perfectly fine without ever seeing another loaf of bread.” Robotnik adjusted his gloves, which weren’t exactly ideal for pushing a cart, but he made it work, somehow.

Stone raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never been to the store?”

Robotnik scoffed, his nose wrinkling as if the thought of the place was offensive. “I’ve had drones for that. I can’t fathom why you, a government agent of all people, would spend hours of your valuable time here… in the produce section. You’re literally picking out fruits.”

Stone snorted. “You could just stay in the car, you know.”

“Ah! That’s the problem! There is no intellectual stimulation in waiting! No problem solving!” Robotnik gestured dramatically to the rows of cans on the shelf. “Who decided that peas should be in the green section? Preposterous.”

Stone picked up a bag of flour, mildly entertained by Robotnik’s apparent existential crisis over the organization of the grocery store. “Well, it’s kind of simple, right? Pick what you need, pay, and go home.”

“Simple? You call this simple? This is chaos, Stone! These items have no purpose out of context! I need a reason to choose the right variety of tomato! This is a waste of time!”

Stone placed the flour in the cart, trying to hide his grin. “It’s a little more relaxing than breaking into military bases and stealing experimental tech.”

Robotnik scowled, but it was more of a reflex than actual offense. “Hmph. I suppose even an agent like you needs something so basic to pass the time.” He paused, eyeing the fresh produce. “Why do you need to pick out bananas? It’s… it’s just… a banana.”

“I like them fresh,” Stone said simply, tossing a bunch into the cart.

“Fresh? You realize they’re just going to rot on your counter, don’t you?”

Stone threw him a look over his shoulder. “I’ll eat them before that happens.”

“Hmph.” Robotnik sighed dramatically. “You’re a mess. I could never understand how you can do something so… mind-numbing on repeat.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Stone said, holding up a bag of chips. “You could get in some basic practice here. Maybe… learn to blend in with the human world.”

“Blend in?!” Robotnik barked, his voice carrying slightly over the aisles. “I’ll have you know I’m an individual, Stone! I do not conform to the norm of ‘shopping,’ nor will I!”

Stone snickered and placed the chips in the cart. “Sure, sure. But you’ll get it eventually. You just need to spend more time in the… basic world.”

“I don’t need to understand basic people. I am a genius.”

"Right," Stone said, tone dry. "A genius who's picking out spaghetti sauce because it ‘looks promising.’”

“Do not mock my decision-making!” Robotnik snapped, holding up a jar of tomato sauce as if it were an ancient relic. “This is precision! I am utilizing this shopping experience for intellectual exploration!”

Stone smiled to himself and pushed the cart forward. “Sure, Doctor. Sure.”

Stone plucked a box of oat milk from the refrigerated shelf, the way he always did. Like it was just another item on the list. Another piece of daily life sliding neatly into place.

Robotnik, standing beside the cart like it personally offended him, narrowed his eyes at the packaging.

“I don’t understand. Milk, but from oats? Just admit you’re milking dirt.”

“You drank mushroom sludge for over a year, Doctor,” Stone replied, keeping his tone mild. “You can’t judge.”

“I can and I will.”

Stone raised an eyebrow and tossed the oat milk in the cart anyway. They walked in silence for a beat, passing down an aisle lined with chips and pretzels. Stone grabbed a bag without thinking.

Then, casually, without looking at him: “So why did you even come?”

Robotnik froze like Stone had lobbed a wrench at his head.

Why did he come?

Why did he come?

There were at least fifteen answers a brilliant mind like his could give.

He opened his mouth. “To observe the degradation of human society via… processed snacks.”

No. Too obvious.

“To examine the flawed systems of supply chains and capitalist infrastructure up close.”

Ugh. Too Marxist.

“To test how long it takes before I commit acts of unspeakable violence in a Target.”

Okay, technically true, but… still no.

Stone glanced at him, one brow arched. Waiting.

Robotnik’s brain, which could calculate gravitational anomalies and create artificial intelligence with a handful of scrap metal, was drawing a complete, mortifying blank.

I wanted to be domestic with you.

He couldn’t say that. He couldn’t think that. And yet there it was, screaming in his head louder than a klaxon alarm. It echoed through his skull like a confession caught in a tin can.

He stared blankly at the snack shelf. Something… something with peanuts.

Stone took a step closer, standing just near enough that their sleeves brushed.

“I mean, you didn’t have to,” he added lightly, but there was a flicker of something underneath it. A quiet curiosity.

Robotnik finally managed: “I had…a hypothesis.”

Stone blinked. “A hypothesis.”

“Yes.” Robotnik nodded, gesturing with a jar of peanut butter like it was a sacred object. “A scientific hypothesis about… your shopping methods. I thought I could improve them.”

Stone looked him over. “You didn’t even bring a clipboard.”

Robotnik’s eye twitched. “It’s…a mental clipboard.”

“Mhm.”

Stone’s smile grew smug. The kind that meant he knew exactly what Robotnik wasn’t saying. But he didn’t press it. Instead, he just turned and pushed the cart forward again.

“Well, keep observing, then,” Stone said over his shoulder. “But if your ‘hypothesis’ involves replacing everything with powdered mushroom supplements, I’m leaving you in the parking lot.”

Robotnik followed, glaring at a bag of cheddar puffs like it insulted his lineage. He grumbled under his breath. “Domesticity is a myth perpetuated by sitcoms and Hallmark cards.”

But he didn’t leave.

Not even when they passed the home goods aisle and Stone casually stopped to look at dish towels.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

is there any aromantic themed folklore stories?

I think that very much depends on your personal definition. Of course there are plenty of folktales that do not include romance, but for me that usually isn't quite enough to consider them aromantic. For me the folk- and fairy tales that feel the most aromantic to me, are the ones where the plot makes me expect there will be a love interest along the way or a wedding at the end, but instead there is neither.

Here are the ones I've taken a personal liking to so far:

The Shoes That Were Danced to Pieces

Source: Cape Verdian folktale, collected by E. Parsons from Antonio Soares Rosa in 1916-1917.

Content warnings: princess-shaming.

Character I read as aro: The hero.

Why: He answers a royal proclamation that states that whoever is able to find out how the princess wears out seven pairs of shoes every night can marry her and have half the kingdom. When he accomplishes this, however, he declines the marriage and returns home to build his mother a new house.

Read it: Full text online.

How The Devil Married Three Sisters

Source: Italian folktale, published by Widter and Wolf in 1866.

Content warnings: fairy tale violence, abusive spouse.

Character I read as aro: The youngest of the three sisters.

Why: While the first sister is pleased by her handsome suitor (the devil) and the second sister is also described as "wooed and won" by him, the third agrees to marriage only because he is rich. She proceeds to save her sisters, outsmarts the devil, and they all get away.

Read it: Full text online.

David Cotterson

Source: Danish fairy tale, collected by Jens Kamp, published in 1879.

Content warning: suicide contemplation, fairy tale violence.

Character I read as aro: The hero, David Cotterson.

Why: His biggest desire is to become a sailor and see the world. In his biggest adventure he defeats a seductive witch, saves a prince who has been cursed to be a dog. He then decided what he wants most of all is to got home to his loving parents, which he does.

Read it: Offline in this book, or my summary online.

The Squire’s Bride

Source: Norwegian folktale, collected by Asbjørnsen and Moe, published 1841-1844.

Content warning: attempted arranged marriage, attempted kidnapping.

Character I read as aro: The heroine, a farmers daughter.

Why: She's being courted by an old, rich squire. She rejects him, not for a better (kinder, younger) suitor, but simply because she doesn't want him. He doesn't back down so she humiliates him to teach him a lesson.

Read it: Full text online.

The Three Brothers

Source: German folktale, collected by the brothers Grimm, published 1857.

Content warning: ends with natural death.

Characters I read as aro: The protagonists, three brothers.

Why: Their father tasks them to learn a trade to show who deserves to inherit their family home. They become a master barber, blacksmith and swordsman, and the third inherits the house. But because they love each other so much they decide to share the house. They live happily and grow old together, after which all three die close together and are laid in the same grave.

Read it: Full text online.

Diarmaid and Grainne

Source: Celtic legend, Scottish variant collected by H. MacLean in 1859, from Alexander Macalister.

Content warning: tragedy, coercion, murder of protagonist.

Character I read as aro: The warrior Diarmaid.

Why: He has a love spot on his face, which he keeps hidden to prevent women from falling in love with him. Grainne (who is married to his lord Fionn) sees it and falls for him, but he refuses to go with her until she outsmarts him and places him under obligation to do so. He goes with her but they live in a house with separate beds. Grainne betrays Diarmaid for yet another man and Diarmaid ends up being killed by Fionn before he realises that Diarmaid has never touched his wife.

Read it: Full text online.

Slawa

Source: Romanian fairy tale, found in a German collection from 1977, sadly unsourced.

Content warning: attempted kidnapping, fairy tale violence.

Character I read as aro: The heroine, Slawa

Why: She is a poor young woman so beautiful that the cruel tsar wants to marry her. She keeps refusing and he gets violent, so she resorts to defeating him with magic (which she has because she was once a doll brought to life through the love of her parents), so she is free to go see the world.

Read it: You can download my translation here.

King Bear

Source: Danish folktale, collected by Jens Kamp, published in 1879.

Content warning: animal death.

Character I read as aro: One of the two protagonists, the eldest of two brothers.

Why: The older brother doesn't fully understand why his younger brother has fallen in love with an imprisoned princess, but helps him win her hand anyway. He stays happily at the royal court, but never marries himself.

Read it: Offline in this book.

And just because I still love them, I did write two literary fairy tales with aro protagonists myself some years ago:

The Man and the Mermaid, in which a man meets a mermaid after losing the woman he thought he wanted to marry.

The River Sprite, in which a woman helps a river sprite who is determined to repay her.

Hope there's something on this list that makes you happy!

[whynotshaveme]

Saturday Night At Bob's Barbershop

By whynotshaveme

Mary Greenwood and her wife Anna arrived at Bob's Barbershop around closing time. Mary is a stern woman in her early 50s with close-cropped black hair. Anna is much younger with long blonde hair flowing down her back. She flinched as her wife grabbed a number. She, however, sat down next her submissively as they waited to be called.

Bob, the owner of Bob's Barbershop, was the only barber present. Curious, once he finished up with what he'd thought was his last customer for the night, he called the two women over. Mary stood up first. Anna hesitated, but one stern glance from her wife got her to her feet and over to Bob's chair.

"Sit down," said Mary.

Then she told Bob that her wife needed a short haircut. Bob wrapped his hairs around Anna's blonde hair and held it away from her as he capped her. He rarely got to touch hair other than his own wife's, so he savored the feel of it in his hands. From how healthy it felt, Anna was clearly a natural blonde.

"Okay," said Bob, "how short? Like yours?"

"No, shave it all off. This is a punishment. She's been flaunting it around town," said Mary.

"Please Mary..." said Anna softly.

Knowing that his may be his only chance to have a beautiful woman in his chair, he decided to assist, even if he normally preferred a willing customer. Especially if he could get a lovely souvenir from the experience. He pulled Anna's hair into a ponytail with a spare rubber band that he happened to have lying around. With his best clippers, he sliced it off. Anna's hair fell loose in rough bob. She, however, didn't have that bob for long because he put one hand on her neck as he ran the clippers over her scalp. A former military barber, he decided to give her the full new recruit experience. Within ten minutes, she sported a perfect grade zero buzzcut. He took a moment to brush her off and then asked Mary if she was good with the finished product.

Mary rubbed her hand against Anna's shorn scalp as Anna shut her eyes, tears running down her face. "Can you make her smooth? She will be spending the rest of the night between my legs apologizing. I don't want to feel stubble."

Bob smiled. "Of course, ma'am."

He wrapped a hot towel around Anna's head. She watched nervously, towel around her head, as he sharpened his best straight razor on a leather strap. Once he got it to a good edge, he removed the towel and spread hot lather over her scalp. With an expert's stead head, he shaved her head smooth. He took two passes just for his own pleasure. When he finished the second, he rubbed her head clean and then used a bit of aftershave, which made her wince.

At Mary's request, she took a photo of his hand over Anna's bald head. Then she paid his fee. As they settled things at the cash register, Anna swept up her own fallen hair, looking distraught. Once the bill was settled, Mary left the shop, with her bald, submissive wife following suit.

Bob took a moment to shut his blinds and flip the sign to closed, and then, with Anna's ponytail in his hands, started to pleasure himself.

(To my Ko-Fi friends, this month's story should be sent out tomorrow or Friday. In honor of April 15th (American Tax Day), it's going to be entitled "Paying The Taxman". For everyone else, The Barber On Main Street is on my Amazon Kindle store: The Barber On Main Street - Kindle edition by From Tumblr, whynotshaveme. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.)

[mossistyping]

HELLO :3

hooooww about Logan (and/or Loscar, if you wish) for 1. Touch Starved and/or 45. Realisation of feelings at the Worst Possible Moment

perhaps? if you like? <333

OKAY SEE YA LOVE YA BYE

HI LATTE <33 Thank you for the prompt!! This hurt to write . . . I hope you like it <3 1. Touch starved/cuddle curse 45. Realization of feelings at the Worst Possible Moment

They had nicknamed him Bot, at the academy, on account of his unfazed attitude. Though some of them debated if it had been for robot or botox, because he was expressionless, according to them. He didn’t agree, but then again, they didn’t see the precursors of wrinkles on his face the way he did in the morning—that had to prove something. His face did reflect his moods, thank you very much. As for the robot root, well, even the best of students had broken down at least once over the years, frustrated tears staining their cheeks after failing a decisive test. He never had, at least not publicly. But they weren’t privy to his internal turmoil, they didn’t share his pod. They only saw the surface.

He had friends, of course. Friendship was hard to weave and harder to keep, when everyone near you was competing for the very spot you were gunning for. Still, some of his classmates didn’t guard their hearts as closely as he did, and their openness eventually bled into him.

Ace of spade. The card was battered at the edges, passed through so many of their hands during their nights off. Oscar closed the round, satisfied to get rid of his smaller cards as he opened the next round. Logan leaned in from his left, reminding him that his last card couldn’t be a two, lest he fancied being the asshole. Oscar rolled his eyes but a smile tugged at his lips; he knew Logan was probably the closest thing he had to a best friend in their entire cohort. This was probably the last time they would hang out like this; in the morning, their commander would ping them with her last brief. Their assignments.

Some of them would be on the same ship, maybe even get to be shadow pilot and co-pilot. Most of them would be relegated to the role of a general agent; they’d be an extension of a ship, its very own limbs. After years crammed together in the same classrooms, years of sharing the same rec room and gym, it was hard to think that tomorrow they’d be strung out throughout the stars. Oscar tried not to think about it. In that kind of moment, he’d almost wished the neural implants of old had passed the ethics board—he’d give anything to remember this last night, every second of it.

But he only had his eyes and his brain to record the night. He took it in to the best of his abilities, but realized with a start that his eyes kept drifting back to Logan. He was scruffy that night, probably wanted a fresh shave tomorrow before he rode out to his new life. He had gotten a haircut recently though—maybe he wanted to make sure he had a little buffer, a few days of growth in case his barber messed him up.

He looked good. Oscar thought he had good chances of making it on a ship’s bridge. Coordinates expert, or co-pilot, maybe? He’d make anything work. Logan was resourceful like that. Though their roles would be assigned, there was a bit of leeway in the first weeks; if someone truly didn’t think they would fit their assignment, they could ask if anyone would trade. Rarely any takers for trades, though.

“You okay?” Logan’s voice pierced through his considerations.

“Yeah. Just thinking about… tomorrow.”

Logan nodded. “Same. Actually, mind if we drop by my pod? I’ve got something for you.”

Oscar knew the moment his eyebrow lifted up in question. See, he did use his face when appropriate. They excused themselves as they dropped out of the game, their friends rumbling about having to rearrange their roles for the next round.

The walk to Logan’s pod was quiet, their steps the only sound bouncing around the cyan corridors. Oscar thought he’d be happy if he never saw that particular shade of blue again. Maybe he’d luck out and find himself on a ship whose design team preferred lilac.

Oscar stood at the door while Logan riffled through his things. There wasn’t enough space in the pods for two people to stand. Probably the academy’s way of discouraging their cohort from fucking, but that had just made them more creative instead. Oscar wished he could erase seeing what Alex and George had gotten up to in the greenhouse…

“Open your hand.”

Oscar did so. Something hefty and cold dropped into it. He brought it up closer to inspect it and wished he hadn’t, because now he could feel tears form in his eyes, longing to be shed.

“Logan, when did you make this?” His voice cracked as he asked.

Logan beamed at him as he answered. “Last year, in welding class. Had to sneak it out and hope they wouldn’t notice the missing metal. D’you like it?”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you, Lo,” Oscar whispered.

Logan’s hand closed on his shoulder, searing him through his suit. Had they ever touched on purpose? Outside of handing each other tools, or in the very few sessions where they were allowed contact sports? Was it supposed to be painful, even when it felt so right?

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? First day of the rest of our lives.”

Oscar tried to smile, hoped he did. Hoped Logan didn’t see how rattled he was by his gift and his touch. He wished him a good night, then headed to his own pod, where he wasn’t sure he got any sleep at all.

★★★

Oscar stood in line with his fellow spacefarers. Everyone looked their best, and Logan was no exception. He had shaved, like Oscar had predicted, and he could have been the face on the posters for their program. His gift burnt a hole through Oscar’s breast pocket; he could feel the metal through the fabric. The five points of a star. Oscar wished he could rub his finger on the thin engraving; L + O. He’d take it with him no matter what, cram it into his weight restricted items. He would claim it was a religious item, if he had to.

When the holo revealed their assignments, their names falling in neat columns under the four ships’ names, Oscar still had hope that his would be above or below Logan’s. But he found his on the Corals, and Logan’s was all the way on the right, under Mockingbird.

He hadn’t expected it to hurt this much. Outwardly, he was the same calm and dependent Bot, but internally he couldn’t hear any of their commander’s speech. They wouldn’t have time for goodbyes, not really. Their departure was engineered to reduce inefficiency; the brief would end, they’d get five minutes at most, and then they’d board their shuttle, and eventually their new ship. Their personal effects would be transferred over the day, appearing in their new pods like they’d always been there.

Belatedly, Oscar dragged his eyes back through the list, looking for their roles. He hadn’t checked what position he’d occupy, too crestfallen to even consider it. But what he found made him chuckle. Coordinate experts, both him and Logan. They’d have the same daily routines, light years away from each other.

They were dismissed, and Oscar gravitated towards Logan.

“I’ll walk you to your lock.”

Logan didn’t protest. The hall was a beehive by now, everyone getting ready to board their shuttle, eager to leave the stifling walls of the academy behind.

They stood apart from the crowd, trying to carve a space for themselves just for this moment.

“I…” Oscar started. Fuck, maybe he’d earned his nickname after all. Unable to string two words together when he wanted to tell Logan so much.

Suddenly, he was enveloped in warmth. Logan’s arms were around him, and after a beat, Oscar allowed himself to close his arms around Logan’s back. There weren’t many options for soap at the academy, but Logan somehow smelled different from them all. A nice, green scent, like he’d extracted something from the hard grown plants in the greenhouse when nobody was looking. Maybe he had.

Where yesterday’s touch had been an earthquake, today’s hug was a meteor striking the earth. It was right in a way that made Oscar feel a fool for all the time wasted, for all the years spent together when they hadn’t been doing this. And now…

“I’ll be with you no matter what,” Logan murmured, and he poked the metal star through Oscar’s suit.

“I don’t have anything for you,” Oscar said dumbly, resenting himself for not planning for this earlier. But he hadn’t known he would be thrown so deep off kilter, hadn’t known he cared so much.

“It’s alright. There’s no way I would forget you.”

Of all things, this stung Oscar the most. As if the well crafted-star held against his heart was the only anchor of Logan in his memory, and not all the moments they’d shared over the years.

“I won’t forget you either, Logan. I can’t.”

Logan freed himself from his arms. He nodded towards his lock.

“It’s time, huh? I’d say you go and be the best coordinates expert there is, but I’d hope that’d be me.” Logan’s smile faltered. “Well. You take care, Oscar.”

It had to be now. Oscar couldn’t let him go without telling him, even if his words were soon to be swallowed by the stars, even as they were headed towards different moons.

“Logan, I love y—” Oscar’s voice died when someone tugged on Logan’s arm and walked him to their airlock.

Logan looked back over his shoulder, an apologetic smile on his face. Oscar couldn’t hear him anymore, but he thought Logan’s lips formed the words I love you, too.

Soon, the metal doors slammed shut and locked him in the shuttle towards his ship. He would have to live with this, even as he gazed upon new stars, even as his eyes landed on the moon they’d worked so hard to reach.

A love undying.

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 27 - Prompt: Answer @wolfstarmicrofic

January Daily Series - 858 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

When the night turned from just another pub crawl to his first actual date with Remus, Sirius couldn’t be happier about it. He’d expected to get pissed and aimlessly follow James and his brother home, but instead, he was nearly sober and holding Remus’s hand while they smoked. It was nice.

Leaned back against the brick, he couldn’t help grinning at the twist of events. When he and Remus ran into each other in the park, Sirius wouldn’t have given the bloke a second look if he hadn’t greeted his dog by name. Now, he couldn’t stop looking at him.

The details he’d see then were the same, of course. His eyes and those lovely crinkles around them still magnetised him. The golden brown curls still fascinated him. The scar that bisected his nose still made him look interesting.

Only now, Sirius could trail his finger over the scar and ask about it. He listened intently to Remus’s rambling explanation about his history with chronic inflammation that triggered joint pain, bouts of vertigo, and fatigue. About the “incidents” that led to his inability to drive and one particularly gnarly accident that scarred his face, hands, and chest. His fingers itched to explore the rest of them, but that was too morbid to admit.

“Are you going to answer or…” Remus trailed off, turning away to release a stream of smoke.

Sirius blinked rapidly, then shook his head. “I didn’t catch that. What did you say?”

“I said, ‘What did you ask James?’ When we were dancing?”

“Oh. Nothing important, just checking in,” Sirius replied, flicking the ash from his cigarette.

Remus quirked an eyebrow, then lifted their joined hands. He freed one finger to tip Sirius’s chin up. “Don’t make me call you a ‘liar,’ Sirius. We both know how that ends.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Maybe not, but you’re not telling the whole truth either.”

Sirius took a long haul of his cigarette before rubbing out the dying cherry on the wall. “Fine. I asked him the same question that you asked me. Why I was defending you to yourself.”

“Because you didn’t know or-”

“No, because I was tipsy and I have a tendency to…spout off a bit when I drink,” he admitted. “Checking in with James is my version of ‘touching grass.’”

Remus cleared his throat. “Ah, so what did he say?”

“Well, my brother was more forceful than James, but both of them demanded that I tell you I like you and snog you senseless, so I did.”

“Remind me to tell them ‘thank you,’ yeah?” Remus teased.

Sirius bumped his shoulder and grinned. “Clever gits, aren’t they?”

“Definitely.”

“Now I have a question. Why didn’t you introduce yourself at the rink that first day? Or last week when you saw me here? Or any day since?”

“That’s three questions.”

“Oh fuck off. It’s only one, with addendums!” Sirius protested.

Remus huffed a laugh and shook his head. “You’re taking the piss, right? Have you seen yourself? Looked in a mirror lately?”

Before Sirius could respond, Remus reached out and mussed up his hair. He squawked, then snagged Remus’s beanie, tucked it in his back pocket, and ruffled his curls.

“I’ve wanted to do that all week,” Sirius grumbled, leaning up on his tiptoes as he tried to make some sense out of Remus’s hair. “It should be a crime to hide pretty curls under an ugly hat.”

Remus grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, well. I know it needs a trim, but I hate how it looks freshly cut, so I avoid it as long as possible.”

“Then you need a new barber.”

“I mean, I am my barber, so-”

“Pardon?” Sirius interrupted. “Do you know how or are you just hacking away at this?”

“I wouldn’t say I know what I’m doing exactly, but-”

Sirius stared at him with what must have been a truly horrified expression based on Remus’s immediate reaction. The bloke cringed, then ducked his head as a flush climbed his neck and dusted his cheeks. He reined himself in at once and sighed.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“No, no. You’re right. It’s just that nobody really cared, other than my mum, so I lopped off bits when they got too long.”

He was better prepared to mask his instinctual recoil at the words this time. Sirius had certainly given himself a fair few questionable haircuts over the years, including a rather unfortunate style involving a fringe of all things. As he’d discovered when Monty taught him how to cut James’s hair, curls required patience and a fair bit of skill. Neither of which Remus seemed to possess.

“Why not see a barber?” he checked.

Remus shook his head curtly, then shuddered. “I don’t like strangers touching my hair. It’s…invasive.”

“Oh. Well, if you want me to give it a go, I could-”

“Yes!” he exclaimed, then released an amused breath. Remus circled his waist with his arms and tucked his face into Sirius’s neck. “I mean, sure. If you want to.”

Sirius buried his fingers in the curls at the base of Remus’s neck and tugged teasingly. “Smooth. Real smooth, Remus.”

Next Part>>>

[scarfacemarston]

Bucky Barnes Emoji Memes Prompt 2

Prompt here. If you enjoy this, please think about liking/reblogging it’s what keeps me going or feel free to request more! ❣️ - What are their love languages?

He's always been physically affectionate, giving hugs and pats on the back. It's always been his favorite way to receive affection, too. He loved hand-holding, placing his hand on the small of his partner's back, and cuddling and kissing. Sex was another way he showed his affection. After his time as the Winter Soldier, he couldn't stand being touched by anyone. It took time for him to retrain his mind to accept touch - first, with Steve, he realized quickly how touch-starved he was. Whether dating Steve or another partner, he returns to showing his love through physical touch and craving it in return. However, he also tries to use words of affirmation by encouraging his partner, but we see several times that he's not his best talent. Quality time or acts of service would be his second.

I'm not quite sure what Comic Bucky's love language is, as we don't have too many moments of him being soft.

🌙 - What's their sleep schedule like?

Nowadays, it's awful. He used to be a heavy sleeper; nothing would get him up. He'd sleep past the traffic noise or alarms. Of course, this changed when he was shipped off to war and, like most soldiers, began sleeping lightly in case of danger. It is the same from Romania to Wakanda to today, only with far more nightmares and insomnia. Sometimes, he doesn't sleep for a night or two.

🎁 - How do they feel about their birthday/birthdays in general?

He loved it as a kid because he could feel like a kid for the day. Comic Bucky's childhood birthdays were mostly during the Depression. MCU Bucky was able to enjoy a lot of birthdays in the 20s. He didn't want to burden his family when he was older but still enjoyed his birthdays. Nowadays, he says he doesn't care, but Comic Bucky was still thrilled to have people remember it, and the MCU would probably appreciate it, too.

🧑‍🦰 - Have they ever dyed their hair? Ever cut it themself?

Borrowed from a fan fic from YEARS ago - I also hc that Bucky had a picture of Clark Gable in his room so he could do his hair like him. Bucky probably didn't dye his hair, but he has cut it since the late 30s, between barber visits.

🗣️ - How do they handle public speaking?

Comic Bucky was fine with it. He was expected to participate in public speaking. Post Winter Soldier, he'll do it, but he's not thrilled with it. MCU Bucky is basically identical. In his younger days, he was fine with it, post-winter soldier, he is really not thrilled with it.

🎮 - What's their favorite game?

Craps was wildly popular during ww2, but he has fond memories of playing Monopoly with the family…..and the arguments. Now, Bucky doesn't have a favorite game but is interested in video games. He just doesn't know what to try.

🥰 - What pet names do their partner(s) use for them? How flustered do they get by them?

Doll face, darling, sweetheart, if with a woman - little lady. He only occasionally gets flustered by pet names. He's happier that someone cares for him, and if they tease him, Screw them.

[mimisempai]

You just have to be

Summary

It's one of those days for Crowley. One of those days when he doesn't feel like doing anything. But perhaps the loving care of a certain angel will change the course of this not-so-good day.  

Notes

a bit of depressive Crowley and a caring angel....

Happy Birthday to one of the most beautiful person I know : @rins-love-winsThank you for being one of my inspiration source!

On Ao3

Rating T -  1795 words

Aziraphale had been awake for a few minutes and, seeing that Crowley showed no sign of moving, he leaned over and kissed his hair before saying softly, "Crowley, my dear, I'm getting up."

Crowley murmured into the pillow, "'kay Angel. I don't feel like leaving this bed today."

Aziraphale ran a hand through Crowley's hair and said kindly, "I understand," then leaned over and whispered in his ear, "If you need anything, I'm here."

Crowley turned his head and said, "Thank you, Angel."

Aziraphale pressed a last kiss to the demon's forehead before getting up, dressing and heading down to the shop to start his day.

*********

Seeing that Crowley still hadn't come down by early afternoon, Aziraphale decided to go up and see him, if only to make sure he didn't need anything.

When he reached the bedroom he whispered softly, "Crowley?"

Crowley rolled under the covers and sat up a little.

The angel asked gently, "Still don't feel like getting up?"

Crowley shook his head, stretched out his arms and said, "But I wouldn't mind a hug."

Aziraphale, touched beyond measure that the demon was so open about what he wanted, didn't keep him waiting and slid in beside him, wrapping his arms around him and pressing him against his chest.

Crowley immediately wrapped himself around him and buried his face in his neck.

Aziraphale let out a soft yelp, "But you're scratching, my dear!"

He pushed the demon away a little and saw something he hadn't immediately noticed in the semi-darkness of the room.

Something he'd never seen before. Crowley with a light stubble. He ran his finger over the slightly rough skin and said softly, "I think this is the first time I've seen you like this."

Crowley replied, "I wasn't feeling up to it today."

Aziraphale nodded in understanding, knowing full well it had something to do with the kind of bad day Crowley had from time to time, 

Crowley stared at him for a few seconds and continued, "It makes me realise that you once mentioned your barber. How come you need one?"

Aziraphale blushed slightly but replied, "I like being pampered. It's very nice. Well, I should put that in the past tense, because now that I have my demon at home, I don't need anyone else to pamper me."

The smile on the demon's lips was worth the slight embarrassment the angel felt after his confession.

He continued, "Like when you washed my hair or took care of my wings."

As the demon nodded, Aziraphale ran a finger across his cheek and asked softly, "Don't you want to try?"

Crowley thought for a moment and with a slight playful gleam in his eye replied, "Do you even know what you're doing? I mean, not like 1941, if you know what I mean."

"Hey, that's petty! I'll have you know, Mr Crowley, I've got a whole shaving kit and I know how to use it."

The demon laughed at the angel's outburst, and Aziraphale was secretly pleased that he had managed to lighten his mood a little.

He said softly, "You still haven't told me. Would you like me to do it for you?"

Crowley nodded gently and replied a little embarrassed, "If it's you, I'd like you to do it for me."

Aziraphale smiled softly and kissed him on the cheek before saying "With pleasure, my love".

He then got up from the bed and found a chair, which he placed in front of the window, from which he opened the curtains to let the sunlight into the room.

He returned to the bed and held out his hand to Crowley, saying "Come and sit here so I can see better".

The demon grabbed the angel's hand and stood before moving to the chair and sitting down while the angel went to get what he needed. 

Aziraphale returned a few moments later with a basin, a towel on his arm and his shaving kit under his arm.

The angel placed the basin and shaving kit on a small table beside Crowley and, taking the towel, tied it around the demon's neck.

His gaze was drawn to the strands of red hair glistening in the sunlight filtering through the window. He grabbed a small one and rolled it between his fingers, saying, "Gorgeous.” 

Confused, Crowley asked, "What? What is gorgeous?"

Aziraphale replied with a half smile on his lips, "Your hair, my dear." 

"Oh..." replied the demon, unable to hide the slight blush that the angel's words caused. 

Aziraphale unpacked the entire shaving kit, grabbed a small cloth, soaked it in warm water and dabbed it over Crowley's stubble. He then grabbed the shaving brush, moistened it with shaving cream and, humming, ran it over all the stubble.

The angel then put down the shaving brush and took the razor, he opened it and showed it to Crowley gently, he asked gently, "Do you trust me?

Crowley replied softly, "With my life. Since the beginning of time and for as long as that".

Azirphale smiled softly and murmured, "Thank you," then leaned forward and gave him a long kiss on the forehead.

He placed the razor blade against the demon's creamed cheek and ran it gently from top to bottom. Then he wiped the blade clean and did the same on another area of skin just beside it. 

Crowley had closed his eyes, looking totally at ease, and Aziraphale, though he knew the demon trusted him completely, was no less moved.

He continued, the silence broken only by the sound of the blade against skin and the angel's humming.

When he had finished, he put the blade down and took the small cloth, moistened it again and dabbed it over Crowley's face, removing the remnants of the cream here and there.

Then he reached for a bottle of cologne and put a few drops on his hands before gently rubbing them over the demon's face.

Crowley sniffed, then said in a surprised tone, "But... it's my cologne, how did you know..."

Aziraphale pressed a light kiss to his lips and replied, "You're not the only one who can smell the other... Musk, red patchouli, lilac, mahogany, lemon rind, oak moss, leather and a hint of vanilla husk."

Then he stroked his cheek gently and continued, "There. We're done."

Crowley opened his eyes and just as the angel was about to remove his hand from his face, the demon grabbed it and kissed the palm before saying, "You were right, Angel, it's very nice to be pampered. But I suppose it's even nicer because it's you."

Aziraphale sat on the edge of the bed and asked Crowley, without a trace of judgement in his voice, " Do you want to go back to bed?"

Crowley shook his head and replied, "No, but... will you go to the park with me?"

Aziraphale immediately replied, "Of course."

He stood and held out his hand to Crowley, adding, "Let's go."

**********

Some time later, after feeding the ducks, they sat hand in hand on their bench.

Having just gently mocked another pair of not-so-discreet spies, at least to them, Crowley dropped his head to the Angel's shoulder and asked quietly, "Angel?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Aren't you tired of all this?"

Aziraphale asked in a confused tone, "All of what?"

Crowley replied, "Of me, and these moments when I don't feel like doing anything, when we have everything to be happy about."

Aziraphale rested his head against Crowley's and replied quietly, "Absolutely not tired of it. I won't say I like these moments, because they mean you're not well. But I do like the fact that you don't have to go through them alone, that I can help you on days like today. That you let me see you when you're like this. And I'm happy if I can give you even a little support and comfort".

Crowley turned his head and kissed the angel's cheek lightly before saying, "Believe me, you've done much more than that today. Knowing that I don't have to hide from you anymore, that I don't have to pretend and that you just let me be in these moments is so much more than I could have hoped for."

"Always, my love," the angel replied as he squeezed his hand, then continued, "You know, Crowley, happiness isn't when things are going well. It's when we get through a day like today, the two of us, without pretence, just being who we are. One for the other, as always."

Crowley smiled softly and replied, "You know what, Angel? You're absolutely right and..."

Aziraphale interrupted, chuckling softly before saying, "I hope it didn't hurt too much to say that."

Crowley, feigning offence, stood and said, "Too bad, I was going to offer you lunch at the Ritz, but you just ruined it."

Aziraphale, in turn, stood up and said in a slightly pleading tone, "I take back what I just said. I promise I won't make fun of you again and mmph".

Crowley had just closed his mouth with a tender kiss, then stepped back, holding out his hand, "Sometimes you're too adorable for words. Come on, Angel, let's celebrate this beautiful day."

The angel took his hand and they walked to where the Bentley was parked. 

As they walked hand in hand, the demon told himself that it was indeed a beautiful day.

Not perfect.

Just beautiful.

Just like them.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[blogger360ncislarules]

We knew it was going to happen — since it was foretold on “The Big Bang Theory” — but that didn’t make it any easier to say goodbye to one of “Young Sheldon’s” original cast members. In the final moments in the second of two episodes airing back-to-back on May 9, the Cooper family received word that curmudgeon patriarch George Cooper (Lance Barber) had died of a heart attack.

The fate of George dying at this point in Sheldon Cooper’s journey does goes back to the “The Big Bang Theory,” on which we learned that adult Sheldon (played by Jim Parsons, who narrates “Young Sheldon” and is set to appear in next week’s finale episode alongside Mayim Bialik) lost his father at the age of 14. That’s the current age of prodigy Sheldon (Iain Armitage) in the prequel series, and while producers had said this major death would be addressed in the show’s final season, they had not said exactly when it would happen.

Now that this heartbreaking loss has happened, “Young Sheldon” will next say goodbye itself in back-to-back episodes airing on May 16, as well as facing the tasks of saying goodbye to the rest of the cast (though its spin-off “Georgie and Mandy’s First Marriage”is set to air this fall on CBS) — and send Sheldon off to his future at Caltech. “The way we brought this show to an end here, it’s emotional,” says executive producer Steve Holland. “I was emotional doing it. It’s emotional for the characters. It’s emotional watching it back.”

Here, Holland also shares how the writers figured out how (and when) to portray George’s death, how Barber took the news about his character dying and what other information from “The Big Bang Theory” needed to be honored.

You guys have done this before, when you wrapped up “The Big Bang Theory.”But how challenging was it to land all the points you wanted before the end of the series?  

It’s always challenging, and I think endings are always really difficult. There’s a lot of expectation on the endings, and at some point, you have to put aside what you think the audience wants to see and just focus on the ending you think is good, and then hope that they’re also going to appreciate it. Going into this season was a little extra challenging because we had a strike-shortened season, so instead of 22, we had to get everything we wanted to hit and get it in 14 episodes. But I don’t think there’s anything we wanted to get to that we didn’t get to at the end of the day.

Since you’ve been asked about it for the last seven years, planning George’s death, did you guys know this is how you wanted to play it? Or was it something you kept going back and forth on?

We always knew we were going to address it this season. We always knew we were going to get to the funeral this season. And we always knew that George’s death would happen off screen, that we didn’t want to witness it. It was just a question of when. There was a version of this, as we talked about it earlier on, where it would have been: The finale would have been the death and the funeral. I think it was Chuck [Lorre, executive producer] who said, “This is mostly a positive, uplifting show. Let’s not leave the audience deep in their grief. Let’s watch the family start to piece itself back together, and let’s end with a little hope.” So then that re-shifted when we were going to do it.

And then also, just because we know some people are expecting it, I know there’s a lot of talk of whether it’s going to happen or not going to happen, but people who know “Big Bang” are expecting it. We wanted to do it in a way that was hopefully a little surprising. So that’s why it happens at the end of [Episode 12] — we thought maybe we can catch people off guard. Even though they know it’s going to come, maybe they won’t see it coming then.

Touching on “Big Bang,” we’ve known that George died when Sheldon is 14, but were there other details from the show that you had to live up to?

It was pretty much just his age. And to be honest, even “Big Bang” canon isn’t entirely consistent. It got more consistent. We know it was 14 and we know that Sheldon goes to Caltech right afterwards and leaves Georgie and the rest of the family behind grieving. Those were the two pieces that we knew.

Was it a tough conversation to have with Lance Barber, since he knew this could be coming?

He’s known since the beginning of the show that George Sr. had an expiration date. We slowed time down a little bit. Like, we extended it because the kids, our actual cast members Raegan and Iain, are 16 in real life. We stretched one year out into a couple seasons to keep Lance alive as far as long as we could. But he always knew this was coming.

And I think also it being the last season made it a little easier on him that there wasn’t going to be seasons going forward that he wasn’t going to get to be a part of, but he was great because he really wanted to be there.

In Episode 12, George gets a college coaching job offer that would take him and the family to Houston. What did that story say for the character and the family?

I think it was a little bit to give George a win. There’d been an episode in maybe Season 2 where he had a similar offer, and he turned it down because the family wasn’t ready. So, it was to point out, like, “Thank you.” All the sacrifices he had made for the family, and maybe now things were starting to go his way. It felt like a good sort of bait and switch, knowing the way the episode was going to end, that there was an episode that was about something else and maybe mainly it makes it hurt a little bit more — like, things are finally working out for them. But we really wanted to see him get a win and acknowledge what he had sacrificed for his family and them sort of rally behind him, except for Sheldon, who can tend to be a little self-centered, of course.

Talk to me about the last time we and the family sees George alive. He’s just going to work like an ordinary morning without any grand moment. Why?

We really talked a lot about that. It was interesting how much work we put into a scene where nothing exciting happened, and we kept making sure that was the case. We thought a lot about the reality of the situation is that you don’t recognize that these are big moments going into them. You only recognize that these are big moments in retrospect. And dad leaving for work is a thing that happens every day. There was no reason for anyone to stop and think, you know, this moment is special. We also thought that moving forward it left them with a little bit more regret that they didn’t appreciate those moments, but it just really felt like that was very real.

We even pulled out where no one says goodbye to him. We kept pulling things away [from the scene] so no one had a moment. For Missy, he offers her a ride to school and she says she’ll take the bus. Sheldon doesn’t even look up. Mary’s on him about making sure he’s not going to be late later on. No one even says goodbye to him.

We see a few people come back in episode 712, like Sheldon’s childhood friend, Tam (Ryan Phuong) and we see a couple of the teachers at the school. Was there a lot of talk about who you would bring back?

Yeah, definitely. There were certainly some characters that we wanted to acknowledge because they’ve been such an important part of the show. It would have been great to bring back Jason Alexander [who played Sheldon’s teacher Gene Lundy in five episodes], who we love. Some things just didn’t work out logistically, and it didn’t make sense in the story. But Tam had been such a big part of the story, and with Sheldon’s friend — and also trying to keep alive “Big Bang” canon when Sheldon goes off to Caltech, and Tam stays behind with his girlfriend. So trying to make a nod that to Sheldon, they’re still best friends. And then Mr. Givens, and we love Brian Stepanek who plays him.

In the last scene of the episode when the family gets the news that George has died, of course, Missy, Mary and Connie just break down immediately. But was there a lot of discussion about how Sheldon would react? Or was that an easy choice given the character, and how he deals with emotion?

We knew that Sheldon would process things internally, that Sheldon is not an outward emotive person. So it was really just about the details like, is he standing and does he sit or is he already sitting? It was really fine tuning those small details to get the exact right moment for him. But no, the thought that he would not outwardly express his grief was always baked into the character.

Was it a challenge for Iain Armitage not to just unload his emotions because this big moment’s happening that they’ve all known was coming?

It was interesting, because everyone was processing the moment differently. And also, with the end of the show, we were getting to that point in shooting the show where we were getting into the series of lasts. Everyone had had their last scene with Lance, and there was a lot of real-life grief and emotions about the show that was coming out in different ways. Like, when we went to shoot that scene [when they find out George has died], even just for rehearsal, Raegan broke down in tears. And I think Ian was trying to keep his mood light, which is, interestingly, a little bit Sheldon. He wasn’t letting himself get into the grief the way some of the other characters did. It was interesting to watch them all process that moment. It was almost harder for them not to cry in the early parts of the scene than it was for them to cry at the hard part.

What should we expect in those final two episodes airing next Thursday?

You know, the Coopers have to deal with their grief over the death of George Sr. And Sheldon has to prepare to start his life journey onto Caltech in California.

[carmenized-onions]

NEW CHAPTER, 14, new recap (can you believe the first one i recapped was chapter 5 oh my) lets rip some coke and goooo

“I thought it was a good bit!” “Cause I’m a piece of shit?” - IVE MISSED THISS

CHARMIN SOUNDS LIKE CHARMING 🥹🥹🥹

the deer in headlights bit is v funny, you’ll see when you see the memes (which i made before the chapter, i am nostradamus)

she is fruity for sure

nodding like i understand food talk (tf is a3)

unrelated but the same therapist thing reminded me about something i keep forgetting to bring up - RICHIE IS HR. so when you mentioned the bear needs an HR, well they do. and as long as carmy treats chip right i think he’ll accept the co-worker relationship (anything to be able to work with chippy)

THE CAT. he is those cute curly kitties. the shat, iykyk

the fact carmen wants to say ‘i love you’ this early (something he struggled a lot to say to his family) IS SOOOOOOOOO

OMG CHIPPY GOING TO WORK FOR THEM FOR REAL????:333333333

This has been Carmichael Burrowski, folks! Don’t call no one— — DNEKRKRIOELEKDKFODNEKE CARMICHAEL BURROWSKI

Ugh, boyfriend? What kind of word is ‘boyfriend’? That's fucked. - THEYRE SO SIMILAR AND PERFECT TOGETHER

And you cannot say you love him because that would be weird. - OH SHUT UP THEYRE SO

“I’m going to kiss you.” “Yeah, okay.” - THAT IS SO FUNNY SJDJFJKF

He’s fine with the touch of hair pulling, on your part— Possibly more than fine. — *giggles in meme*

“You’re so pretty.” You tell him anyway, speaking into his half open mouth.  Whatever thought he had, it’s dead now.“—Jesus fucking Christ.” - i need them to know how much i love them jesus fucking christ

“I’m not a fucking virgin.” - LMFAOEKRKKEOEKEKRNRKRKRKEKEKEKE

“It was a recent development, okay?” “Darn. Sorry I was late.” - 🥺🥺🥺 imagine -

“I want you in every sentence.” - FUCKING KILL ME WHY DONT YOU CARA MIA😭

to bite you like a cannibal - this man and his hickeys🤭🤭🤭

“Fak is still outside, I’m pretty sure.” - CHIP??1?2?2?3kr3kr3kr3kr838484kr4&4&4

“Wait— Are they?” Oh, so Richie’s here, too? Good. - oh great everyone’s here, bet squid is there too

NUZZLING NOSES

her old cat, her old pu-

Nuzzling your face into Syd’s cheek - squidink as she’s holding carm’s hand?? wild

“First of all, wrong placement.” - ofc it is

When shit happens, you call me - 🥺🥺🥺 bestie!!!

“Get your weird little hands off my Chip, you perv—” - LMFAOOOW DJEJEJDJDJ I LOVE HIM SO

and syd’s reply sidjdifi

“Y’know how going to a different barber is like cheating—?” - SJDJDJ GET HIS ASS CHIP. they swapped her for fucking ted fak???

“You’re still— We’re still sharing, right?” - SYD SHENJEHEJE

I’m sexually normal - very normal thing to say, it me tho

OMFG IF CHIP RECOGNIZES DONNA AND PETE FROM OUTSIDE THE RESTAURANT

“Baby’s do traditionally experience time, yeah.” “You n’ that smart mou—” - their dynamic is unmatched

You have to respect the power in that. “Damn.” - that reminded me of marcus

“Oooh, Charmin gets his first paycheck suddenly he’s all that—” “You wanna come up to my room or not?” - i was gonna comment on the charmin thing but HELLO1??1?23)kr3:kr

THEY CAN HANG. SURE BRO

THEYRE WATCHING RATATOUILLE OMGGGGG

Sleeveless black turtleneck? Maybe black palazzo pants - HOT

Please say yes to the white apron. Please say yes to his team. He'll get your initials monogrammed and everything. - *passes out*

the wonderful rat chef

ON GOD

“Yeah. I’ll answer.” - bc 🥺😭

“You’re fucking Carmen!” - GOODBYEEEE. not carmen outing them YET AGAIN

“So fuck you, actually.” - 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

“Fuck off! I’m already coming to fucking Time Square with you, don’t be whiny.”  - this is giving when dwight was like ‘of course i’ll get that stuff for you so just shut up’

“I nominate Carmen.” “I second the nom.” - tag-team<33

Don’t fuck in a fuckin’ Holiday Inn Chip’s worth mo - he’s so sweet and yet so???

HE CALLED CHIP BABY I REPEAT

It's absolutely going in Carmen's top five favourite expressions of yours. - 🕊️🕊️🕊️

“Syd said she will be knocking violently if I’m not back at midnight on the dot, yeah.” - SQUID GIVING HER GF A CURFEW

THE BERF SHIRT

“God, it’s over—” - squidink is so over rn😔

“Baby, just say you’re happy for me.” - BABY. THEYRE SO BACK

squid can stab men, a little, as a treat

You hand her your water bottle when you spot her looking at it. - 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

her instinct is to call chip, oh OH oh

“I didn’t ask you to be great.” Syd says it before she thinks it, and it’s enough to make your eyes water - MINE ARE RUNNING TOO ACTUALLY

God you’re dehydrated - *careless whisper plays* i mean what I SAID NOTHING

squid out🦑🦑

“It’s so crazy that you think that’s gonna happen—” - I LOVEEE SHEEE

Your shoulders touch as you both stare at the ceiling. - CUTIES

She hums, pointing to the popcorn tiles - namedrop! jk…unless?

“Oh my fucking God it’s that bad—”- GET THEIR ASSES SQUID

In front of everyone, accidentally while saying goodbye, off-handedly while hanging up, over text, and so on and so forth. - all of those are cute actually

“Now it’s three.” “Fuck, it’s gaining interest?!” - WE’RE SO BACK!!!!

“Wait, what the fuck, Syd, say it back!” - REAL!!

this was so cute!! just them and their adventures

LETS. GET. ROLLLINNGGGG!!!! (papers!!!) (we both can do drug jokes in this house!!!) (there will be a wip under all this as a treat I promise)

I’m honestly shocked Charmin isn’t a canon nickname (yet!!), cause like. IT DOES SOUND LIKE CARMEN!!! AND THE TOILET PAPER BEARS!!! AND THE TOILET PAPER BEARS ARE BLUE NOW TOO!!! WHAT THE HELL!!!

You are frfr an oracle with your memes, occasionally I look at em like hmmmmm,,,, this is gonnna be a lot funnier after the next one. My comedic Nostradamus genius. (the secrets of the universe ARE in the popcorn ceiling!! U!!)

The benefit about writing about food for people who did not come for food is that I also don’t have to fully understand what I’m saying. Had to look at a wagyu chart and make a lot of assumptions. I am not going to make steak with pop rocks to find out if it’s any good.

OKAY WHAT THE FUCK I S RICHIE’S JOB I’M BEING SO FR I DO NOT !!! Carmen’s Exec, Syd’s CDC/Head, Richie is… HR/Co-Manager/Host??? No wonder he can afford fuckin eras tour tickets bro is getting THREE DIFFERENT PAYCHECKS WHAT!!! But this does make sense. Bro IS THEE Human Resource.

Had to look up photos of sheep cats. Yeah that’s him. That’s Carmen but a Cat for sure.

RAHH. The held back I love yous are very. Very rah. Theres a lot of thought behind them for me but I shant share because I feel like that may give too much away I fear?

Carmichael burrowski is brought to you by seeing Carmichael company vans a lot and Mae Burrowski from Night in the Woods. Thank u both for ur service.

I completely forgot about the ‘that’s fucked’ convo with Fak until I saw a gifset and went OH YEAH…. It IS fucked. They are so stupid. They are also both unable to say I love you because that would be WEIRD!!!!!!!

I am so happy with the incredibly funny smooch because it was very much to mimic Carmen’s —

I think funny kisses are the way to go. There is something very charming (CHARMIN!) to me about awkwardly expressed consent.

YOU DIDN’T PUT THE RATATOULLIE MEME IN THIS ONE FOR THE PUBLIC TO ENJOY AND FOR THAT!!! YOU’VE DEPRIVED OUR PEOPLE!! i knew if I was gonna make him watch ratatouille and have him relate, he’d have to relate to more than just remy.

I’ll call them and let them know you love them, promise. Whenever they get out of the bathroom.

Carmen 30-Year Old Virgin Berzatto— Or 28-29, time line is UNCLEAR!! Regardless, I couldn’t take away my man’s one W. He fumbles most people, I had to let him have the one he canonically got. And also it was too fun to consider him absolutely STEWING as Tony recounts her emotional relationship with Mikey, just thinking in the background “I need to tell her I am in fact. NOT . a virgin!” I hate this man.

I WANT YOU IN EVERY SENTENCEEE RRAAAWHWHWHEHE!!! Loved that. Loved writing that paragraph. Love love. Love wanting to have someone so intrinsically in your life that in order for someone to know you they have to know them. WOOOOOO!!!!!!!! Carmen give her a hickey before we have to confront the emotional implications, GET HER BOY!!

Well how much did you bet on syd being there because now I owe you

CHIPS GOT TWO HANDS FOR A REASON BABY!!! I’m kidding the triangle would never work. But they should try anyways.

Whole Richie scene makes me :)) it’s fun to navigate these two going through like, so many internal emotions obviously over Chip’s trauma dump, and deciding what Richie would actually take a moment to comment on. And I think it absolutely has to be the ‘imagine your friends are dead’, bro 100% HAD TO BE HELD BACK FROM RAMMING THE DOOR DOWN TRULY TRULY. Don’t imagine I’m fuckin dead cousin!!!!!! I’m not a fuckin ghost!!! Call me!!!!!!!!! I am literally your guy!!!!!

Watching season 3 and seeing half of the season unnecessarily focusing on a Handyman (Ted) really had me clutching my pearls like. Bro. where’s my baby. Who the fuck does this guy think he is. This is CHIP TURF!!

BIG SHOUT OUT TO SYDNEY ‘THE SQUID’ ‘SEXUALLY NORMAL’ ADAMU!~

Donna!! Donna!! Finally semi-time that I have to face my white whale of writing,,, da mom… I’m still mentally tackling how to write her, but we’ll get there when we get there…. (truly thought she was gonna fucking die this season I didn’t think I was gonna have to DEAL WITH IT!!)

Everyone simultaneously did a record scratch at ‘do you want to come up to my room’ and I think that’s beautiful. I think that’s everything I wanted and more. They can hang bro. and watch ratatouille. Like hang out and be normal and fantasize about easily removable aprons with monogramming done.

Carmen is a certified shoe in his mouth yapper. Sugar, hand the crown to your brother, you may step off your throne; because this fucker has gotten caught like three separate times simply by being himself.

VERY DWIGHT Very like, sibling texting ‘fuck you I hate you what do you want from mcdonalds im omw home’. That’s the Richip dynamic to me. And then they kill carm.

Chip baby!!! This is not a drill he finally called her a pet name!! men, to your stations! And she didn’t even have the brain to COMPUTE IT, alas.

The post squid scene was so tough I was like, ‘do I cut this and just end on carmen?’ but then I knew, I’d never write this scene, cause spoiler alert, we’re doing a very slight time skip. So like. I just wanted Squidink to have their actual last beat to their sad no contact era because!!! So many feelings to be had over not contacting your boy in forever!!! But god its so OVER!

‘Didn’t ask you to be great’ is SUCH a punch to the gut, esp for a people pleaser like Chip (or me, man). Like. Fuckin. GOD. It’s the same sentiment Richie had in Just Dropped with ‘I’d love you even if you weren’t useful’, but like, this side of it is pre-useful. Like. Not only would I love you if you weren’t useful, I would never ASK you to be useful. HELL.

All of those I love yous are cute you say? Well I will have to up my game in coming up with something truly mortifying, then.

Shout out to me, directing on set, and demanding that my crew says it back when I say I love you. Genuinely my ‘Heard’ is a reciprocated ‘I love you’. No one call Richie/HR.

also the memes. immaculate as always. AND THE AUTHOR/CHIP COMPARISON,,, ART IMITATES LIFE, what can i say? if carmen/chip manage to live together at a point i really can't imagine him denying anything she wants. i think he would only have opinions on the kitchen and maybe efficiency of moving through spaces. (WE NEED TO PUSH THE COFFEE TABLE BACK!!! SIDLING AGAINST IT TO GET TO THE COUCH IS CAUSING A 3.4 SECOND DELAY IN MOVIE TIME!!!!) psycho.

Anyways. As always, a pweasure to hear your thoughts. I am hoping next weekend will finally be the fucking weekend I put something out. It’s hard slugging through this next chapter because it’s basically our so much fucking dialogue chapter, and navigating action and meaning AROUND that has been a nightmare. I think I’m probably over thinking the fuck out of it, to be fair. I feel so bad making y’all wait, so here is a juicer snippet.

THANK YOU LOVE YOU APPRECIATE ALL UR PATIENCE AND ALL UR THOUGHTS I LOVE TO HEAR FROM YALL!!

[ghostofaboy]

Kinktober 2023 - October 23rd

Day 23: Breeding/Impregnation, Fancy Dress, Frottage

Tim Rockford x The Thief

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1064

Warnings: anonymous sex, frottage

@absurdthirst Kinktober List | Ghost of a Boy Masterlist

The Thief watched as Tim Rockford stood chatting with a group of people just across the room from him. Dressed in a store bought cowboy costume with an ill-fitting black mask, the detective looked more than a little uncomfortable with his surroundings, and the Thief allowed himself a subtle smirk. 

Detective Rockford had been on his tail for the past three years after a series of ingenious thefts, if he did say so himself, but had never been close to catching him. The Thief, of course, had been close to Tim before. He’d watched him at the barbers, at crime scenes, and twice at a baseball game to name but a few times. In fact, he’d only attended tonight's fundraiser because he knew Tim would be here.

Leaning against the bar in his custom-made roman centurion outfit, the Thief watched Tim chatting with a couple of acquaintances. He didn’t like costumes, that much is obvious from the way he shifts every few seconds, and the Thief chuckled to himself as Tim touched the mask covering his eyes and nose for the millionth time since he walked in.

Behind his own ornate mask the Thief felt confident that Tim would never guess his identity, not that Tim knew what he looked like anyway, but should he guess who the Thief is tonight, at least this way he won’t see his face. The bartender behind him placed his drink order on the bar, and the Thief smiled his thanks before grabbing both glasses and heading over to Tim.

“Excuse me.” He smiled broadly as he approached the group, placing himself next to Tim. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I need a quick word with my cowboy friend here.”

Tim frowned at him, confused by a stranger coming over to him, but nodded all the same. Stepping away from the group, Tim looked the Thief up and down.

“Do I know you?”

“No.” The Thief grinned, then dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “But you looked like you weren’t having fun, and I just couldn’t ignore a handsome man in need.”

Holding out the drink, the Thief watched with satisfaction as Tim blushed as he took it, mumbling his thanks.

“This isn’t my sort of thing.” Tim took a sip of his drink. “I feel a little silly.”

“I think that’s the point of fancy dress.” The Thief laughed, linking his arm through Tim’s and leading him over to a secluded corner. “It’s not a bad thing to be silly. It can be freeing.”

Tim licked his lips, his eyes never leaving the Thief’s mouth as he spoke, sitting down on the plush sofa next to him. “I suppose you’re right. I think the masks definitely help with that, don’t you?”

“I do.” The Thief purred, leaning closer to Tim’s ear. He was curious how far he could take this now. Tim was much more handsome than he realized close up. His warm brown eyes shining out from behind the mask and his plush lips drew the Thief’s eyes to them. “Would you like to know my name? I could tell you, but isn’t it more fun this way? A tryst with a masked stranger at a party must be more interesting than us talking about our jobs or families.”

Tim let out a laugh, nodding. “Fair enough. No small talk then. So what did you have in mind?” Shifting on the sofa closer to the Thief, Tim brought his face closer until the Thief could feel his breath on his cheek. “Do you want to fuck?”

The Thief’s cock twitched under his leather skirt as a grin spread across his face. “That sounds perfect. Somewhere more private?”

“Bathroom?” Tim nodded with his head towards the men’s room, but the Thief shook his head. “No? Cloak room?”

“Cloak room.” The Thief nodded, hurrying to catch up to Tim as the other man set off through the party.

Once inside, no time was wasted as lips met in hurried, sloppy kisses while costumes were hastily moved and opened to provide access. The Thief’s tongue plundered Tim’s mouth as the detective freed their cocks, taking them both in his large hand and pumping firmly. On the other side of the thin door, the party continued as the sounds of people talking and laughing filtered through, covering the moans and gasps escaping their mouths.

The Thief’s hands roamed Tim’s body, cupping his ass through his thin costume and reaching inside the shirt to rub and pinch nipples. Tim maintained his grip on their cocks, stroking them in time with their kiss. Their lips met, merged then parted in rhythm as their breaths came out in gasps. Goosebumps covered the Thief’s skin as the dizzying feeling of arousal began to override everything else. 

Time lost all meaning as the two of them continued to follow their passions. Tim was rocking into the Thief, their cocks rubbing against each other as he frantically pumped them. The friction was delicious and the Thief found himself pulling Tim further into the coats. He wanted more. He had no idea if Tim would let the Thief fuck him or not, but if there was a shot at this, he was willing to try.

Suddenly, the door to the cloak room opened and a member of staff appeared. Quick as a flash, the Thief yanked Tim into the rack of coats. For a few moments, they hid in silence, desperately trying to silence their breathing as the staff member busied themselves with their task before leaving. The moment the door was closed again, the Thief looked over at Tim, who was stood wide-eyed and panting.

“Shit.” Tim huffed out, his eyes drifting down to his hand, which still held both their leaking cocks. “I was so fucking close, damn it.”

The Thief let out a burst of laughter, leaning his head on Tim’s shoulder. “Let’s finish here quickly, cowboy. I have a beautiful suite at the ludicrously expensive hotel across the street. Let’s continue this on satin sheets and significantly less clothes.”

Tim began pumping again, each tug pulling them closer to the edge, as his teeth found the Thief’s neck.

“Fuck yes.” Tim growled into the Thief’s skin. “But we keep the masks on and no names.”

The Thief grinned manically as his peak approached. “Oh, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[agirlwithbigdreamsforher]

WE WILL LOVE YOU, NO MATTER WHAT

THE NANNY: ONE SHOT

WE WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU, NO MATTER WHAT

Pairing: Andy Barber x Annie Johnson (OFC)

Summary: Jake didn’t feel good at school.

Warnings: none.

A/N: English is not my first language, any mistakes are my own. 

Word count: 969

Disclaimer: I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, used, translated nor reposted anywhere else but here on this blog. Do not steal what you didn’t work for. Minors and ageless blank blogs don’t interact with me or my works. Reblogs and likes are always welcome. Thank you for reading this work of fiction.

GIFS not mine, you can find the credits in each gif :)

                                   ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Andy received a called from Jake’s school around 11 a.m. He left work to go and pick him up. Apparently Jake told his teacher his stomach hurt and he didn’t stop crying. During the drive home, Andy tried to make him talk about how he was feeling, but the kid never said a word, which was weird since Jake was usually very chatty.

Once they got to the house, they both walked to the living room, Jake kicked his shoes out and sat on the couch.

“How about if you lay down, while I call your mom, ok?” The boy just nodded.

Andy went to the kitchen and called Annie while he looked from something in the fridge for Jake.

“Hi, honey. Hey listen I’m in the house. Jake is not feeling well. Do we have like chicken soup or something?”

“Yeah, in the freezer. What’s wrong with Jake?”

“The teacher told me he said he had a stomachache.”

“And did you check on him?

“Ammm no? I will, I promise.”

“Listen, I’m done for the day. Defrost the soup. I’m on my way.”

Andy found the soup and put it in the microwave, let it defrosted and then he put it in a pot to heat while he came back to Jake.

“Alright! Soup will be ready soon,” Jake’s eyes were stuck on the T.V.

Annie walked through the door around 15 min later. Andy was sitting next to Jake, a bowl of untouched chicken soup on the coffee table.

“How is my boy?” Andy turned to see her, a frown on his face. “You didn’t eat your soup, baby.” Jake didn’t reply. Andy moved to let Annie sit by Jake’s feet.

“How about if you tell me know where does it hurt?” Annie lifted Jake’s t-shirt to touch his stomach but Jake huffed and pulled his cloth down. “Baby, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me where it hurts, let me check on you.”

“No!” The boy turned hiding his face in the cushion, and soon after Annie hurt his small sobs.

“Oh baby,” Annie pulled him to her arms and hugged him tight, “Shhhhh, it’s ok.”

“I no wanna left.” Jake said against her chest.

“Leave? Where are you going to leave?” Annie turned to see Andy who was as confused as she was.

“You give me away.” He kept sobbing, face flushed, big tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Give you away? Baby, we are not giving you away.” Jake kept crying, they knew that it was just a matter of time before he began panicking. Annie rubbed her hand on his back, “Take a deep breath.” Jake did what Annie said. “There we go. One more time.”

Jake took a big deep breath while Andy took him in his arms, stood and began to walk with him around the room. A little bit later Jake put his head on Andy’s shoulder. Andy sat back down, Jake had stopped crying, small sobs leaving his mouth as he looked between his dad and his mom.

“Better?” Annie asked and Jake nodded, “Ok. Baby, you have to tell us what’s wrong. Why are you saying we are going to give you away?”

“Billy says.”

“Billy told you we were going to give you away?” Jake nodded. “Hmmm, and why did he said that?”

“I say, you have a baby in your tummy and he say you no love me no more, and then you give me away!”

“That little fucker!” Andy cursed.

“Andy!” She slapped on his arm, “Ok, first, don’t repeat what your dad just said.” Jake turned to see her, eyes still watery, “Second, Billy is lying to you. Just because we are having a baby doesn’t mean we are giving you away, that’s not how this works. We will always love you, no matter what.”

“That’s right. We love you so, so much, buddy.” A few tears fell from Jake’s eyes, “The baby is an addition to our little family.” Andy cleaned the tears using his thumb, “The baby needs a big brother. You can teach them so many stuff. Like ammmm…”

“Play ball?” Jake said with a small voice.

“Yeah, play ball.”

“Ok.” Jake clean his face using the back of his hands, “So, no leave?”

“No, baby. You are staying with us.” Annie gave him a kissed on the forehead. “Besides the baby is excited to meet you! I have told them so much about you!”

“Really?”

“Of course! I will show you something, ok?” Annie took Jake’s small hand and placed on top of her 6 month-belly. “Say something.” Jake look a bit confused but Annie gave him a reassuring nod.

“He… Hello?” the baby kicked right after Jake voice sounded, “WOW!”

“The baby says hi.” Annie said and Jake smiled wide.

“See buddy, the baby already loves you.” Andy commented.

“I love baby too.”

“So, please don’t listen to anything Billy says to you.” Annie said.

“But if he says bad things, what I say?”

“Tell him to fuck off.”

“No! Andy! Jesus, I swear if they call us because Jake is cursing at school I’m not saving you!”

“Fine! Just ignore him Jake. And maybe push him a bit, or kick him.” Annie looked at Andy with a lifted eyebrow, “What? He needs to learn to defend himself.”

“I can kick!”

“No, baby. Just ignore him.” Jake nodded.

Annie stood, took the bowl with the soup and headed to the kitchen.

“I kick Billy tomorrow.”

“Sure thing, buddy! Just don’t tell mom.”

“Yes, daddy. Is secret, shhh.” Jake put his small finger on his lips.

“I am listening to you guys!”

Both Andy and Jake opened wide his eyes with a frightening expression and turned to see Annie standing behind them who laughed once she saw their expression.