#LOOK AT HIM. CHICKEN CRAB. LOOK AT HIM

[hotdogmchiggin]

My favorite animal. The crap

[gildedoak]

Sweet Tea: the staple of nearly every Southern household.

I think this is about to be a WHOLE DANG THING. I blame this brainworm on @notherpuppet and her Bread Pudding comic. Got me all nostalgic for foods from when I was a kid at my grandparents' house.

We all know Al loves jambalaya, so I'm focusing on some other dishes!

SOUTHERN COMFORT FOOD SERIES Chicken and Waffles Peach Cobbler Hushpuppies Crab/Crawfish Boil Gumbo Fried Catfish Shrimp and Grits Biscuits and Gravy Cornbread

Medium: Copic markers, gel pens, colored pencil

Image Description below the cut!

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: a 6-panel Radioapple comic

Panel 1: Lucifer crouches by the kitchen counter, watching Alastor serve up a glass of amber liquid out of a large glass beverage dispenser. Lucifer: Whatcha makin'? Alastor: It's sweet tea.

Panel 2: Lucifer frowns, standing up straighter. L: But you don't like sweets. (aside: Sus...) A: (offers Lucifer the glass) Correct. This is for the hotel lobby. Taste test this for me?

Panel 3: Lucifer downs the whole glass in one go without hesitating. "Bottoms up!" reads the background with little cartoon stars.

Panel 4: Lucifer freezes, his brain buffering. A: Does it need more sugar?

Panel 5: Lucifer looks up at him, serious as can be, with little pink bubbles and golden Satanic-cross sparkles floating around him. L: Marry me. A: (recoils, hissing) NO.

Panel 6: End! (there's a small sketch of a full glass of sweet tea with a straw.)

END DESCRIPTION]

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

hungry eyes | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick is a great cook, and a chef must taste-test all his meals, mustn’t he? including you.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving), finnick is a munch and a thigh man, praise, swearing, cum swallowing, fingering

notes: i’m so sorry about the long-writing-time-to-short-word-count ratio. i don’t know if i like this ahhh. lmk what y’all think <3

word count: 3.5k

You were passing through the entry room of your house when the front door opened with a slight creak. Stepping through the doorway was Finnick, dressed in a white billowy Henley shirt (he had a few buttons purposely left open and the sleeves were rolled to his elbows) and a pair of dark grey pants. 

His hair was a windswept mess of bronze waves with different strands poking out in various directions, but he somehow made it work. He looked… 

Wow. 

You, on the other hand, were still in your pyjamas, wearing a pair of thin cotton shorts and cosy thigh-high socks. 

As soon as he entered the house, you could tell what kind of mood he was in. Drained. That tended to happen whenever he had to spend the day with his prep team and prepare for an upcoming event in the Capitol. 

His cheerless eyes found yours and you swore a spark of life flickered in them.

“Hey, Finn,” you said. “Are y—oh!” 

Before you could finish, he had wordlessly stepped towards you and collected you in his arms. Your feet left the ground as he picked you up and continued walking further into the house.

“What are you doing?” you gasped.

Your legs curled around his back, your body leaning into his chest so as not to fall backwards. He smelled really nice, like how you imagined sunlight hitting the sea on a warm summer’s day would smell. 

“Making something to eat,” he finally spoke. His eyes briefly flickered to yours. “I’m hungry.”

Well, you did send him off that morning with some of last night’s leftover crab cakes, so he couldn’t have been that hungry. Plus, he was with his prep team. They would’ve had plenty of fancy Capitol-esque food on hand to satiate him.

Weird.

“So that means I don’t get a hello?” you teased.

Finally, a small smile worked its way onto his lips. He leaned forward and pressed his lips sweetly and softly to your own, his hands not-so-sweetly squeezing the plush of your ass as he did.

He pulled back and gave you a mischievous look. “Hi, sweetheart.”

You smiled bashfully in response. “Hi.”

You had passed through the archway into the kitchen, the entire room now being bathed in sunlight from the four o’clock sun. It was the picture of a perfect beach house—driftwood and seashell ornaments, sand-coloured benchtops, and large wooden-framed bay windows.

Finnick set you down on the counter facing the stove, your legs now dangling over the edge. 

“You just had to bring me into the kitchen with you?” you asked.

He was already out of your arms, scouring the cupboards for various ingredients for whatever it was he was planning to cook up. 

“Gotta have something pretty to look at,” he said, throwing a wink over his shoulder.

Warmth crept into your cheeks. “Right. Obviously.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, apart from the clatter of a metal pot being set on the stove and the splashing of various vegetables and chicken stock being thrown into boiling water. Your legs swung lightly as you watched Finnick in quiet admiration. 

Steam wafted into the air, bringing with it a sweet herbaceous smell. You hated to admit it, but Finnick was an unbelievable cook; much better than you were. He was constantly offering to teach you his culinary skills which often led to the two of you spending hours together in the kitchen. Burnt and over-salted meals were a common result. Regardless, you enjoyed the time together.

Sometimes it even led to other things as well… things very unrelated to cooking.

Finnick seemed to hyper-focused on the soup he was stirring; he was being unusually quiet, making you wonder what was going on inside his head. Had something happened during the time he was away?

“How’d you go today?” you asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, humming a vague response.

“Mm,” you copied, wearing a teasing smile.

He shot you a playful look over his shoulder. Then he did something weird. 

His head turned again, and he gave you a double-take, eyes falling from your face and to your legs. Your pyjama shorts had ridden up to the crease where your legs and hips connected, and your thighs were squished together on the counter, the cuff of your thigh-high socks digging into the soft flesh. His eyes flickered to yours once more before he turned back around.

Very weird.

An unexpected wave of goosebumps travelled down your entire body. You swallowed nervously and averted your eyes to your lap. It was absurd how a single look from him could cause you to react so strongly. He had so much power over you.

You crossed your legs, palms flat against the bench top on either side of you for support. The entire room was filled with the sweet aroma of the broth Finnick had made, causing your mouth to water from the mere thought of the warm liquid soaking into your tongue.

He lifted the pot from the stove and turned it off, scooping the contents into two bowls. However, when he turned around and walked over to you, he was only holding one.

“Just glad to be home with you,” he said and offered you the bowl.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, taking it into your hands.

The bowl was hot against your palms and fingertips, almost burning right down into your bloodstream as the golden liquid wafted steam into your face. Finnick’s gaze followed your movements as you lifted the spoon to your lips and finally felt the delicious heat seep into your tastebuds. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as you hummed a noise of pleasure, already craving another spoonful. “Tastes really good.” 

“Yeah?” He tilted his head.

Finnick was gently lifting one of your legs into his hands, massaging your calf through the cotton of your socks. His hand wandered down to your ankle, stroking over it with an affectionate touch before gliding back up to the underside of your knee. You had hardly noticed his affectionate behaviour, too distracted by the vibrant tastes filling your mouth. 

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” you asked half-heartedly, focused on getting another mouthful in.

“Sure am,” he murmured.

Selfishly, you paid his words no mind even though you really should have. You had just lowered the spoon back into the bowl, watching the soup cover the metal when suddenly, your leg was being lifted over the other. 

Now this got your attention.

You swallowed the warm liquid, eyes looking up at him in confusion. He uncrossed your legs, nudging them open with his hands on your inner thighs before he positioned himself between them. Your thighs were now hugging either side of his hips, your grip on the bowl frozen with uncertainty. 

“What are you…?” you began, but then he was gently taking the bowl and spoon out of your hands and placing them on the bench beside you.

“Told you I’m hungry, sweetheart,” he said. He placed his hands on either side of you, leaning in until your faces were inches apart. “Been waiting all day to see you. And these socks…” he trailed off with a sigh, sliding his fingers just beneath the band digging softly into your thigh before letting it snap back in place. “Well, now I’m practically starving.”

You stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. God, you were already breathless. 

“Oh,” you whispered.

He bit his bottom lip and kept lowering his gaze to your mouth, looking at you as if you were a grand three-course meal and he was on death row. 

“I just need a taste,” he spoke almost pleadingly. “Will you let me?”

Not a single neuron in your brain was firing at that moment. With the way he was staring at you, how gorgeous helooked, and the fact that he was practically begging to be between your thighs, it was almost impossible to say no. It was also impossible for you to verbalise it as well.

“Please, baby. You’ll let me, won’t you?” he pleaded.

The growing desperation in his voice had you sinking your hips into the counter, feeling yourself begin to ache for him. Of course, as you did this your thighs grew expanded even wider from the pressure and Finnick seemed to like that very much. You could tell from the way his cock left a large print across the front of his pants.

You nodded, speechless.

“You will?” His hands found the sides of your thighs. “Good.” 

Within seconds, he had dragged your body to the edge and collided your pelvis with his. He felt as hard as he looked. You gasped at his eagerness but were immediately cut off by his lips crushing against your own, leading you into a kiss that mirrored the hunger he must have been feeling inside all day. 

His hand moved into your hair, holding you with a firm yet gentle grip. He was leaning into you, moving his lips so assertively that your body had to lean back to get a sliver of respite. You were buzzing with anticipation like electric currents were moving through your veins. If he was kissing you like this, what would it be like when his lips were further below?

He then pulled away to observe you. 

“My beautiful, beautiful girl,” he whispered, gently smoothing the hair beside your face.

You leaned into his touch, enjoying the brief tender moment. Your hand moved onto his and gently squeezed as you looked up at him, gaze doe-eyed and full of false naivety. You knew you were only spurring him on.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he said before pressing another peck to your lips. Then he started to go lower. First, he kissed the length of your neck and then the skin above your breasts exposed by your low-cut shirt. “Perfect eyes, perfect lips, perfect thighs.”

He was crouching now, trailing kisses down your stomach which had your fingers weaving into his hair. The descension halted at your upper thighs. His lips left a warm tingling sensation that spread across your skin with each tender touch. You watched him begin moving higher, entering a dangerous region of your inner thighs with lips that were trademarked for trouble. 

The air in your lungs was in short supply now.

“Just so sweet and so…” His fingers slipped into your waistband and pulled your shorts down your legs. The fabric fell from your ankles and there you sat, your glistening cunt bare and reflecting in Finnick’s green eyes. “So wet.”

Feeling nervous due to his penetrative stare, you attempted to conceal yourself and began closing your legs. He tsked and forced them open with two sturdy hands. He continued marvelling at the slick that coated your folds, committing the image to his mind.

“So perfect,” he exhaled.

You were getting impatient now.

“Finnick,” you whined. “Please. Just… Just do some—" 

You inhaled sharply. He had rushed forward and finally connected his warm mouth to your cunt. 

High-pitched breathless moans were already spilling from your lips as his harsh tongue delved between your folds, lapping up the arousal that had leaked out. Your body was restless, which was evident from the way your fingers pulled at his hair, hips bucked into his mouth, and thighs clenched around his head. 

Hunger and starvationwere not the right terms to describe how he was acting. Not at all.

He was insatiable.

Finnick’s shoulders slid beneath your thighs, forcing your legs to dangle over them. His arms were curled around your legs while his hands kept your legs clamped open from the top of your thighs. He suctioned his lips around your clit, the sensitive flesh growing more swollen as the pressure he applied increased.

You placed a hand on the counter behind you to keep yourself steady, keeping the other hand buried in his golden waves. Your head fell back with a loud moan. He was shaking his head side-to-side in a manner that could only be deemed as animalistic. He was eating you out like a fucking animal. Like he was a predator, and this was his kill. 

“Oh, my god!” you cried out.

He moaned into your pussy, tongue dragging from your opening and back to your clit, savouring every ounce of sweetness he could pull from you. A dull pain was coming from your upper thighs and you quickly realised Finnick’s fingers were digging into your skin. Each time your thighs tried to shut, his fingers buried deeper into your flesh. And mixed with the feeling of his tongue lapping you up, it felt rapturously overwhelming.

His tongue began flicking your clit at such rapid speeds that you weren’t even sure a vibrator could replicate it. You were now pulling, no, yanking at his hair all the while your hips were moving closer to his face. The pleasure was so devastating even your body wasn’t sure what to do with itself.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” his hoarse voice vibrated against your clit, “y’gotta strong grip.” 

Your chest heaved as you looked down at him. “Finn, don’t stop.” 

And of course, he pulled back an inch to look up at you. The sight of him between your legs was fucking glorious. A mix of your juices and spit was dribbling down his chin, coating his lips in a shine you wanted to taste. His hair was dishevelled in a way you could only describe as a sex-crazed mess. Oh, and the way his blown-wide pupils were looking at you… like he had a whim to devour you whole right then and there.

“Stop? Who said I was ever going to stop?” He smirked.

Then he leaned in and fell back into his previous rhythm. The heels of your feet dug into his back. He was essentially making out your cunt. His tongue was swirling around your clit and kissing it sweetly, as if doing so offered you any reprieve from the exquisite torment he was inducing. Your stomach muscles were aching in the most pleasurable way, sending signals of pure arousal to your brain that made you feel intoxicated.

“Like fucking sugar,” his voice muffled into you. 

He tongued your entrance, forcing as much as he could inside you. Your walls fluttered with warmth around him and you let out a needy little whine. He flicked his tongue upwards inside you as he slid in and out, thick eyebrows scrunched together as he moaned at your taste soaking into his tastebuds.  

One of his arms unravelled from your thigh and his tongue retracted from inside you. You whimpered in displeasure, only to gasp as something longer immediately replaced his tongue. Finnick’s mouth was entirely focused on suckling your clit, meanwhile, the two fingers he had slid inside you were focused on pushing your body over the edge.

“Fuck,” you breathed heavily. “Fuck. Oh, f—ah!”

The pads of his fingertips pressed into that swollen spot deep inside you, knuckles prodding your walls as he curled his fingers. He was wildly flicking his tongue over your clit with the added help of his head shaking side-to-side.

You were writhing. Your body had never known such powerful sensations before meeting Finnick. Even after all the time you had been together, you were still trying to get accustomed to how intensely he made you feel. Given that information, you could feel your orgasm rocketing from deep within and to the surface. Flames licked at the muscles in your stomach, spreading like wildfire from your clit.

Finnick looked up at you, and you looked down at him. Look how good I make you feel, his cocky eyes spoke. Your parted lips were dark, flushed with heat and arousal, letting each and every debauched sound echo around the ceramic-tiled room. He plunged his fingers inside you again and your head fell back. You knew he was laughing. You could feel it.

The noises filling the room were pure sex. The sound of Finnick’s fingers squelching inside you, of him sucking and lapping at your pussy, and your whiny half-crazed moans—they were all that could be heard. And then suddenly your body started tensing.

“I’m so close,” you panted. “Finn, I’m—I’m—Fuck!”

And there it was.

Finnick didn’t stop. Hell, he somehow even managed to pick up his pace.

Your thighs clamped harshly around his head; this would’ve worried you if your brain actually had a single thought running through it. Shockwaves of bliss crashed over your body; they consumed you. Your moans came out as choked noises and filthy gratified cries of Finnick’s name as he sucked and curled his fingers in and out. 

You felt him speaking, most likely words of praise to talk you through your high, but you couldn’t hear. White noise buzzed in your ears. Part of you could feel him collecting your juices with his tongue as the built-up tension gushed from your cunt. The other part of you was gone.

At least for a brief period.

When you came back to reality, Finnick was starting to stand back up. His hands were holding both your thighs, keeping them from violently trembling. You stared at him, waiting for the spots in your vision to disappear and the buzzing in your ears to settle. There was nothing you could do about the liquid seeping onto the bench top.

He surveyed your dazed expression, mild concern etched into his features as his eyes flickered between your own. His hand gently cupped the side of your face. 

“You here?” he asked, lightly dragging his thumb down your lower lip.

Sweetness coated the tip of your tongue as you licked your bottom lip. Well, no wonder he enjoyed doing that so much. You tasted really… good.

“I’m okay,” you whispered.

He gave you this beautiful dimpled smile, and he dropped his hand once more. His eyes were on yours, gleaming with mischief as he dragged two fingers up your folds, glazing them in a white shine. You were so sensitive that your hips jerked forward at the light contact, causing him to chuckle softly.

You watched as he lifted his fingers to his lips and within milliseconds, you were reaching out to stop him.

His fingers were so thick and long, and with your arousal coating them, it was damn near impossible to deny yourself the pleasure of having a little taste as well. So, with two hands holding his palm, you guided his fingers towards you. 

You eyed the liquid for a moment, hesitated, and then licked a long strip from the base of his forefinger and up to his fingertip. Then, closing your eyes, you wrapped your lips around the length and began sucking. It was a potent taste, both overpowering and lingering. Not bad though. You moved onto his middle finger, this time keeping your eyes on Finnick as you sucked it clean.

His expression reflected something of astonishment, letting out a perplexed chuckle as he watched. With a wet pop, his fingers were out of your mouth. You were holding his large palm and pressing a soft kiss to each of his fingertips, a tender and affectionate gesture compared to the act you just pulled.

Finnick shook his head at you, wearing a disbelieving smile.

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence. 

“What,” he echoed your response under his breath. He grabbed your chin, leaning down until you were face-to-face. “You play a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

Then his lips were on yours and when his tongue slipped into your mouth, all that could be tasted was you. That previous animalistic air about him had dissipated; he was gentler now, kissing you in a way that was adoring rather than bordering primal. Not that you had been complaining.

His pelvis was pressed against yours. More accurately, his cock was pressed against your pelvis. Whoever made his pants must have used strong threading. He was so hard that you were surprised the seams hadn’t ripped apart and exposed him altogether. You were surprised but also thankful because undoing his pants was your job. 

Your hands moved to his chest and pushed him backwards. His lips left yours with a displeased grunt. 

“Oh, don’t you worry, Finn,” you said, your hands trickling down his torso. “I’ve worked up an appetite myself as well.”

He looked down at you, eyes oozing with seduction. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

You slid off the counter, feeling his erection glide over your body. The fragrant smell of marinated vegetables and chicken still lingered in the room. You should have felt disheartened about not finishing the mouth-watering soup Finnick had made—or perhaps even the entire pot. But as you sank to your knees and began unbuttoning his pants, you realised there was one thing that was a great deal more appetising. 

Peering up at him through your lashes, you saw him looking down at you with a lazy smirk. 

Your lips stretched into a sinful smile. “My turn.”

[timedhoney]

MDNI.

You're pathetically twirling your noodles as you look at Mingyu, feigning disinterest in hopes he can't see right through you.

He's splayed beside you in bed, those stunning eyes glinting up at you from where his head sits on your chest. His hand sits teasingly along the hem of your shirt, the warmth and size putting your poor heart through laps around your chest.

Take out boxes are strewn all over your plaid sheets: a lone crab rangoon, a pair of postickers, and fried rice already frustratingly escaping into the bed. You pick at the defecting grains to toss back in to the box, waiting for him to speak.

“Let me see them,” he laughs, flinging first the tv remote and then the duvet back behind him. You pair your rolling eyes with a smile as you lift up your shirt.

“This might be the best Friday night tradition we have,” you inform him around a bite of orange chicken.

"Who goes out on a Friday these days anyway?" He cheekily responds, obscenely licking at your clavicle just to get a reaction out of you. It works, and you wiggle further into his waiting arms.

You've chosen to watch a corny action movie; he's chosen to watch how stunning your tits look in the powder blue bra you've revealed to him. You can't wait for him to shimmy down your shorts so he can see you have the panties to complete the set.

This is the tradition: he buys the two of you takeout, you watch whatever was just released for streaming, and he gets to eat you out. How it started, you can never quite remember. But you're not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He lets out a quiet groan of satisfaction, more for himself than for you. His hands grab and pull at your hips greedily, taking in the flesh languidly. He pushes your thighs apart and settles his hips between them so he can get into a proper position to pinch your nipples.

He always knows exactly how to wind you up, obscenely groping you in a way that makes you drool. His long fingers gripping and pulling and pinching at the swell of you. His warm tongue following to soothe the reddened skin.

You watch as he peels his leg up, the imprint of his buckle leaving its signature along the inside of your thigh. Why does he still have clothes on….?

"Your biceps look so amazing wrapped around me," you whine, watching as they swell and contract. You feel mesmerized by how he shifts your hips further down the bed so he can better stick his tongue between your legs.

“Mingyu-“ whatever praises are about to leave you fall off when his lips wrap around your clit and suck. He spreads you open to sloppily kiss at your clit and cunt, warming you up before he sticks his tongue inside you. Wow.

He alternates between flicks and drags, fingers spreading you open so he can keep his attention focused in on your clit. The pleasant sting of his scalp as you pull at his hair tells him to keep soldiering on.

The reward is well worth it as he pulls moans from you easily, chin shimmering from your excitement. He can tell you’re close by the way you clamp around his ears.

Your orgasm is gentle, and you shake around his as you let it wash over you. He flops next to you, smug as you nestle into him.

“Wait so what’s the plot?”

You figure he can catch up with context clues as you pull your hair up so you can return to favor, already hungrily eyeing the tent in those jeans that you still haven’t been able to rid him of.

[atlasnessie]

wings of the devil — mini series

SYNOPSIS — with a series of strange events, you find yourself sharing an apartment (your apartment room …) with an injured demon who just so happens to crash right on your balcony.

OSAMU DAZAI IS AN ENIGMA OF A MAN.

er — demon.

ever since the day he crashed onto your balcony, midnight feathered wings engulfing his whole being and blood dripping down from his fingertips. ever since day one, you never knew much of him. the only things you knew about the stranger were his goal of getting back to the underworld, the attempts of taking your soul, and his odd interest in a double suicide, despite already being dead.

though, even with the passing of five months, you only ever knew bits and pieces of his life. he was a demon with demon tendencies. his claws were sharp, hooking onto things on accident now and then. his wings were large, covering half of your large bedroom. he likes crab, preferring the ones on earth rather than the ones down below. you have grown accustomed to the mess of your apartment, though. feathers as dark as the night sky resting everywhere the demon walks. dazai’s usual tendency to charm you, and how empty your kitchen fridge has been feeling everyday. living with a demon, something you never would’ve thought would happen to you, had become your life style.

“heyy, can you get more food ? preferably some raw meat ..” dazai whined, his head stuck in the fridge as his tail whips around, hitting some chairs and moving them around. with a hand on his hips, dazai straightens his back from bending down, closing the fridge door and looking around the small apartment for you.

“human, your demon is hungry ..!!” he shouted again, opening the fridge once more as if something to eat would magically be spawned in front of him. the demons brows furrowed, groaning and closing the door again. dragging himself to the couch, dazai huffed and laid himself down, feet sticking up on the arm rest and his wings splayed out with a quick messy flap. and suddenly, his sharp ears pick something up. the slow walking of your feet made dazai’s head stick up, eyes wide as he watched you grumble to yourself, car keys in your fingers and wallet in your hand, dressed in whatever you wore the other day.

“i was planning to not do anything today …”

“human !! you can’t just leave me to starve. that would be terrible. who would entertain you on your boring days ?” dazai rolls around on the couch with a lazy pout, his arms reaching out for you in a pleading manner.

“you’re such a pig, you know that ? my fridge was fine and full a week ago.” walking towards the door, you sighed and slipped on your shoes, rubbing your eyes to waken yourself more. just as you open them again, you are face to face with dazai (who had to crouch down to see you eye level). his long claws poke at your cheeks, a sly, almost daunting smile rests on his face.

“i know you love me ~ c’mon, just admit it !! you’re head over heels for me — ah, hey, dont close the door on me !!”

with a swift exit, you startthe car with your keys. from the corner of your eyes, you could see dazai cracking open the door and sticking his head out, a small pout on his face.

“… what do you want ?”

“could you pleasee,” the demon started, extending the vowel more than necessary, “get me a chicken ? not those, ugh, disgusting wrapped meat ones, but a real chicken ?”

“no.”

[blackopals-world]

What Nurseries would the fem!AU(Yuus) build

(Look I have baby fever and I'm tired of fighting it)

Vet!FemYuu

Stuffed animals everywhere

Doesn't care if it's a boy or girl they aren't changing it.

Every book will be animal fables

Is praying for the baby to be a beastman but just wants a healthy baby.

Got a bunch of teething toys just in case the kid has their milk teeth come early.

Rainforest noise machine

Once the baby is a few months they are going everywhere in a sling.

The baby will meet all of Yuu's patients and will be constantly covered in fur and feathers.

If the baby becomes interested in fish like their aunt Yuu will cry. She won't let her win!

Marine Biologist!FemYuu

A bit chaotic in decoration

Let's Azul decorate it the first time and cried because it was beige like those weird rich people who only care about aesthetic but have no real sense of style. Like, no color? Babies need color!

Yuu cries while explaining (it's the hormones)

She hates beige

Azul wouldn't argue with a pregnant woman

She wants sushi but doesn't know if she can have it if the baby is half mer.

They installed a tank in the room just encase the baby is a mer

The tweels are banned from holding the baby until the kid can sit up on their own.

Took the baby to swim classes to awaken their natural instincts to swim like all babies even especially fishy babies.

Chef!femYuu

Red and gold for good luck and prosperity.

Pandas for peace and protection.

She wanted everything to be traditional but knows how demanding it will be.

No hot foods, no crab, no lamb, mutton, no sushi, no soft cheese, no soft serve ice cream.

She's dying.

After the baby is born a feast of pig trotters, eggs, cakes, chicken and gelatinous rice is served. She will dye the eggs red.

The baby will get an anti-usog bracelet at birth

She is superstitious so no one will see the baby's clothes before birth.

Noble!FemYuu

Too much? Yeah.

Unfortunately, she insisted due to family tradition. Every child must use this crib first.

The baby has a different crib in every room so it doesn't matter.

Everyone needs to know how precious this baby is. The need to see this crib from space.

More silk! More pillows! More toys! More!More! More!

This baby will have like five names.

This baby will be lorded over the masses as the perfect example of a baby.

Portraits will be painted of this baby that will one day be hung in great halls and later art galleries.

Yuu is way too excited and honestly, even the baby is fed up.

She trying her best.

Special Forces!femYuu

We all know who the father is.

Yep, Rook designed this room

Doesn't matter if it's a boy or girl either.

Yuu was way too tired to stop him and she didn't even try to stop him.

Rook really wants a girl and will try again if it doesn't happen. (he was going to try again anyways)

You'd think he was giving birth with the effort he put in.

Yuu would make him do it if she could. But alas.

The couple was using their pet bunnies as pseudo babies while prepping for the pregnancy. They bunnies weren't happy except for one.

Pistolet the weirdo. Rook's favorite and the dumb one. He was also the future baby's best friend.

Yuu is an iron woman honestly, she shows no pregnancy symptoms while Rook has sympathy pregnancy symptoms.

They eat shaved ice and watch war movies together. Couple goals.

Gardener!FemYuu

A little English cottage nursery

Very whimsical

The baby isn't actually going to use a crib until they are whined because Yuu insisted on co-sleeping despite what the doctor said.(don't do this)

Yuu wanted to deliver the same way as her mother and her mother's mother. In field, by themselves, while harvesting the crops. Have that sucker out in an hour, swaddle it, and back to work.

That didn't happen. They went to a hospital and iron woman over here was put on extended bed rest after giving birth to a big ass baby. Beautiful too.

(???)!Fem?Yuu

They can have kids??

By who?

How?

I mean it's nice but I'm still confused?

Good for them?

You sure that baby isn't a cryptid? That thing has a lot of hair. Looks like that girl from "The Ring". That's alot of hair.

Well, good luck with your hairy baby.

[waklman]

Hi Tilly! So, I’m living by myself for the first time and my dishwasher just flooded my apartment 🫠I’m fine😀, really… 😭. Anyways, I just wanted to ask you to maybe write something with Bradley and babybear 🥺. They are my comfort characters! love ya ❤️

summary: you and bradley go out for a late night snack or bf! bradley who stands there in silence x gf! who orders food for them both.

warnings: mentions of strict dieting, one or two suggestive jokes. fluff, 18+ blog.

note: helpp the way that kind of made me laugh. as a fellow girlie who also gets herself in trouble when left alone, i hope your floors are okay! excuse the quality as writers block has me by the neck

something 'bout you masterlist.

It’s not often that Bradley dines out. He’ll indulge in some of Penny’s greasy bar snacks once in a while—nothing more than that.

With the one time he did slack off, it wasn’t exactly easy to get back to his original physique. In fact, Bradley even found himself struggling to keep up with the likes of Hangman at one point.

And that was just the wake up call he needed to finally get back on track. 

Since then, he’s made sure to double down on his efforts to stay in shape, scarfing down his protein packed, repetitive, plain meals. It’d be a lie to say that it wasn’t a bit tasking, but it's nothing Bradley Bradshaw couldn’t put up with. And when Bradley was committed towards something, he was all in. 

But what he forgot to include in his ‘fool proof’ plan to remain loyal to his diet, was his stubborn girlfriend who loves to spoil him rotten. Which is why he's finding it difficult to swallow down his food tonight.

The usual pre-prepped dinner has never tasted so bland and downright dry, especially when you’re planted in front of him with that tablet in your hands.

For the past thirty minutes, Bradley has been subjected to a screening of strangers eating a variety of foods—from huge portions of instant noodles—to enormous crab legs being dipped in buckets of cheese. 

He’s seen it all. 

“Give in,” you whisper, fingers tightly curled around the edges of the ipad, though, you’re careful enough to not block the screen itself.

Across the rounded table he’s sat in, you’re standing there like you’re getting paid to show him a compilation of mukbang videos. You’d put the billboards lined up on the nearby highways to shame. 

“Not a fucking chance,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head firmly. 

Stabbing his fork into another piece of boiled chicken, Bradley stuffs it into his mouth in defiance. He refuses to wave the white flag, not when he’s worked so hard to finally restrain himself.

Maverick would have to come twirling into the living-room in ballerina-get up for him to take it as a sign to treat himself to a cheat meal. 

At his clear refusal to give in, your head peeks out, just so slightly, behind the thirteen inch screen, eyes narrowed with fiery determination igniting them.

“Mcdonalds. Wendys. Burger King. In and Out,” you repeatedly chant, legs starting to tremble under the strain of standing up for so long. 

Bradley only flares his nostrils, a sign that he is not backing down either.

In any other scenario, his knees would’ve immediately buckled after one plea from you. But right now, he knows you’d stuff his face with junk—that he’s been successfully cutting out for months, if you were given the okay from him.

Though, he does have to admit, he’s finding it hard to keep a stern face because your legs look like they’re about to completely give out. Not wanting to keep you up any longer, Bradley tunes out your endless chant of fast food chains—which somehow turns into a catchy song, as he shovels more strips of chicken in his mouth.

Maybe if he finishes his dinner faster, he could coax you onto the couch to watch more Ryan Gosling movies. 

Following your gut feeling, you lift a finger to the front of the screen, tapping repeatedly on the skip button—until it felt right. After spamming your pointer just a few times, you lift the index off the glass, letting it play at a random point in the compilation.

Bradley’s tongue prods his cheek, straight face starting to falter. “Baby it’s not gonna work. Please just sit dow—” 

His mouth immediately clamps shut, throat moving as he swallows back a wad of drool pooling inside his mouth. The boring dinner under him is long forgotten. 

Noticing his dazed state, you lower the screen to probe what finally caught his attention. Bradley’s eyes practically trails the movement of the tablet, not looking away for a second.

A platter of juicy burgers leaking oil and mountains of fries is what breaks him. 

“And he’ll have the double bacon-burger, two large fries, one coke and—” 

The teenage boy behind the register blinks in disbelief, watching the giant man in front of him lean down towards his girlfriend, shyly whispering in her ear. 

Bradley draws back again, standing a head taller than you with his arms crossed around your front, glassy eyes roaming the lit-up menu stretched above the line of registers. 

“Oh, can we actually make that a root beer? Also I’m really sorry, but can you remove the tomatoes from the burger as well?” You request, giving Bradley comforting strokes on the forearm he has slung over your chest.

“Yes, Ma’m I can…I can do that for you,” the worker clears his throat, editing the order on the screen, customer service voice practically cracking. 

When you two first walked in, with matching pajama pants, the fast food employee assumed he was dealing with a pair of psychos from the streets.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, he’d always get one or two unsettling visitors in the duration of his night shift. But they’d always prowl inside the joint by themselves—they never had company—nor have they ever teamed up on him before. Briefly, he considered hovering his hand over the dusty emergency button directly under the counter. 

But to his surprise, you two were just a relatively normal couple with a craving for burgers at midnight. 

“Alrighty, your total comes out to 18.50,” he reads, eyes nervously darting between the two of you. “...Will that be cash or card?”

Almost in a race with each other, you both drop the lovely couple act, digging in your own pajama pants for your wallets. The anxious worker behind the counter starts taking a careful step back, afraid you two were going to pull out a weapon on him all of a sudden. God, he shouldn’t have let his guard down so easily. 

He stills as you beat Bradley to it, holding out a credit card between your fingers, excitedly pointing it towards him. 

Bradley begins to panic, patting down his empty pockets. “Babybear, where the fuck is my wallet?” He tilts his head down at you, a knowing look settling on his face. 

As the credit card is taken from you, your mouth stretches into a wide smile, and you crane your neck backwards to look at him. “I tossed it in the back of the car when you weren’t looking,” you gleam in satisfaction.

Bradley sighs in disbelief, no wonder you were so clingy in the car. 

“Is that why you were crawlin’ all over me during all the stop lights?” 

“Gimme a kiss,” you suddenly demand, cutting him off. 

Bradley blinks at your puckered lips.

It practically pulls him into a trance, because he’s already dipping his head down to give you a quick peck. In a strange way, it’s almost a perfect recreation of that upside-down spider man kiss scene. 

Ultimately, he decides to keep the comparison to himself. If he were to mention it, you’d most likely start gushing about another movie actor.

He’s already heard enough of Ryan Gosling lately.

“I know you can open your mouth bigger than that,” you frown in his lap, readjusting the bundle of fries between your fingers. 

The buckle of his undone seatbelt hits your ankle when you wriggle to find a comfortable position next.

Bradley licks the ketchup off his lip. “Yeah, you would know,” he teases, giving your butt a quick squeeze, sleazy look on his face. 

Somehow, he’s the same person who was barely able to order food for himself inside the burger joint that’s currently behind his parked Bronco.

Receiving a silent look of disapproval from you, he finally clears his throat. 

“Okay, someone didn’t find that funny,” he mumbles, stretching his mouth wider for you.

“A little more. Ahhh,” you sing, encouraging him to take the fistful of french fries. Under you, Bradley nearly chokes when you stuff one more in his mouth, slamming his jaw shut with finality. 

“I like when your mouth is full. Less talking,” you jut your chin at him, all too pleased with the lapse of silence. 

Bradley stills his chewing, raising a brow at you. 

“Ugh! Stop it. Keep chewing those fries,” you complain, reaching for the large root beer resting on the dashboard behind you.

Bradley grins, mouth full of food, holding you steady when you twist your middle to grab the drink. 

Swallowing down a large ball of potato, he leans forward, wrapping his lips around the straw, taking a long sip from the drink cradled between your hands. 

“Are you full?” You question, watching him lean back after finishing off the remains of the beverage. You decide to set the empty cup into the driver's seat for now. 

“Feeling so full, baby,” he groans, shutting his eyes as if it’ll help him digest it faster. 

Pursing your lips to hold back a laugh, you place a suggestive hand over his stomach. “Yeah? Feel it all in your tummy,” your voice drops to a lower register, mimicking his dirty talk from the other day. 

His eyes snap open, immediately.

The cramped Bronco, littered in empty paper bags and greasy wrapping paper jostles as he rushes to sit up tall. “You said no more jokes,” he scoffs, pinching your sides. What you said was worse than everything else he spat out tonight. 

“Hey,” you whine, scratching his bloated stomach with your nails. “Don’t act all mad big guy. I know you’re about to give in anyways,” you giggle. 

Bradley traces his teeth with his tongue, failing to conceal his growing smile. Because you’re right.

If you weren’t, he wouldn’t be thirty minutes away from home, favorite person in his lap and favorite cheat meal in his stomach.

join the taglist for this series here or follow me on @waklman-library and turn on notifs to be notified when i post!

tags: @s0uz4s @bradswolfe @swiftsgirlfriend @djs8891 @cherrylipgloss-baby @mannsachds @strokesofstokes @grxcisxhy-wp @anna1523 @coconut152 @goosterroose @chicomonks @pedrohoe04 @cruelmissdior @angelbabyange @shanimallina87 @ohgodnotagainn @cottagecori @maplesyurp07 @atarmychick007 @Olivia21blunt @s-u-t @hangmanscoming @geraltsaxii @wkndwlff @sammyrenae68 @bradshawed @roosterbruiser @gracelyn-writes @bubblegumbeautyqueen @angeliccks @zombiedeathsworld @blueoorchid @averyhotchner @laylaskywalker @swiftsgirlfriend @genius2050 @domeafavour505

[hitlikehammers]

eating fancy

rating: e ♥️ cw: domestic fluff, not-quite-but-not-not-dirty talk, playful banter, silly boys being silly asf, love is when the food is also kinda foreplay, first encounters with a crab rangoon, eddie munson's mouth makes innocent food obscene—fact ♥️ tags: established relationship, fluff, domestic fluff, slice of life, idiots in love, softness

for @steddielovemonth day nine: Love is sharing food (@sparklyslug)

you may recall a very important scene that takes place over crab rangoons for the rockstar!husbands in  je ne regrette rien; this would be their first go-round

“Ooo, we eating fancy?”

Steve rolls his eyes and plops the bags on the countertop, the grease already drawing wide circles on the paper.

“Chinese takeout?” he snorts and raises a brow Eddie’s way because oh yeah, very fancy, but he unloads the bags and padded them to Eddie to open up so they can grab from them, they’ve learned it’s easier to just eat out of the containers and pass them back and forth, but then he’s folding the bag up and he catches his beloved fucking boyfriend—

With all of the little white boxes arranged, and very clearly not opened, but almost making…a snake or something. Maybe a path?

“I like the little cartons,” Eddie comments brightly, with that innocent sort of grin of his that goes and melts in Steve’s chest and drips like honey over his ribs, draped molten, every goddamn time: “they’re like mini houses, you could build a city,” then his head snaps up, eyes wide and glinting, molten just the same his lips part and his grin because something bigger, fuller, taking up more dimensions at a time:

“Oh, fuck, I could,” and he’s moving the boxes around quick, and Steve knows him well, can tell when he’s devising a plan and his hands fly manic to excuse the vision: “a whole new campaign, I could map it out with—“

“How about one,” Steve catches Eddie’s palm on top of the cashew chicken; “you finish the campaign you havefirst,” and Eddie tries those eyes at him, the pleading edge of them almost widened to their fullest advantage but Steve’s developing some degree of tolerance, now, and can at least tip his head just so to indicate that he doesn’t intend to budge—it works, on Eddie and himself, about thirty-percent of the time; and this is one of those third-of-the-time occasions, because Eddie pouts his lower lip and pulls a hand back from building his kingdom or whatever, which means Steve can give a little in return, because that’s what they are, they’re give-and-take almost relentlessly. They’re a fucking team, and a damn good one at that.

“And two,” Steve takes it upon himself to start untucking the tops of the cartons and sticking forks in; “we order, like, just a bunch of white rice for that, so your little buildings aren’t full of fucking grease.”

Eddie brightens up for that, excitement hitting first before he looks at Steve and softens in a breath, looks so fucking huggable, kissable, touchable—

No. Not yet: they have dinner. Maybe not fancy, but Steve would like at least the first round eating what he bought to be warm-ish before it goes the way of leftovers-straight-from-the-fridge.

“So smart, baby,” Eddie croons, and Steve bites his lip over a grin, and yeah, maybe his pulse still flutters a little when Eddie’s voice hits that pitch, or when he says that kinda shit, and means it—Steve not gonna pretend otherwise, or fucking apologize for it.

He’s down to the little bags of eggs rolls and almond cookies, the shitty and really-unnecessary-but-they-come-with-so-they-have-to-try chopsticks, and oh, yes.

He grabs one of these babies out of the little crinkly bag with the bleeding ink and pops it straight into his mouth in one peace, champing it gleefully before smiling at Eddie, who’s grabbed his set of stick and is poking at the bag carefully, almost warily, like something’s gonna bite him.

“What the fuck is that,” Eddie’s eyes dart between Steve’s mouth and the still-half-ensconced wanton-y things in the bag.

“Hrah hanhoo,” Steve tries to talk around his food but it’s a lost cause: he did eat the whole thing in one go.

Fucking worth it though, and Eddie just stares until he swallows, then stares while he swallows, follows the motion down his throat and Steve can clock how his pupils dilate for it; never fails to give him a rush as he clears his throat and breaks his pair of chopsticks apart to scissor them clumsily against the point of another piece:

“Crab Rangoon,” Steve says simply, but Eddie’s eyes just…kinda get wider?

“So is it crab, or,” he asks, very carefully, measured and hesitant: “or is it raccoon?”

Steve’s lucky he didn’t put another one in his mouth yet for the way he goddamn snorts.

“Rangoon,” he tries not to laugh too hard; “crab and cream cheese in a little fried,” he gestures to the pointy crispy could-be-a-ninja-weapon-if-ninja-weapons-were-delicious.

Wait, could ninja weapons be tasty?

“Aww, it’s kinda little a star,” Eddie’s saying as he lifts one out from where he skewered it straight through with one of his chopsticks, which Steve was about…ninety-eight percent sure wasn’t the right way to use them, like, at all.

“And the crab is,” Eddie takes his other chopstick and pokes at the top where it’s all gathered in together and crisped: “oh, a little pouch that’s all,” he moves his head around to study it from all side; “puckered up, and kinda red,” and oh, his tone hasn’t changed but Steve knows this man; “also kinda,” and yep, the tone stays perfectly even but he gives himself away in the way he licks his lips:

“Kinda milky—”

“Stop,” Steve cuts him off, and for good measure he knocks Eddie’s clinical examination of the food out of they way to inexpertly-but-at-least-there’s-no-stabbery-involved lift the wanton up and shove it at Eddie’s lips until he bites half, and shuts up so Steve can make plain his term:

“Not in front of the food,” he declares, and then drops the other half on his tongue because fuck, they’re good.

“You don’t even know which end I was referring to,” Eddie whines a little once he’s chewed through his half.

“Honestly, either fucking pucker is not what I am focused on right now,” Steve nails him with a stare—not a glare, it’s not angry, it’s just pointed—as he goes to finally fucking open the rest of the cartons and start goddamn eating dinner.

“Hmm,” Eddie pouts, and yes, Steve is very much aware he’s displaying one end’s pucker for a fucking reason like the petulant dickhead he is: “that’s a pity.”

“It’s gonna get cold,” Steve volleys back easily because it’s not like this is new. It’s not like he doesn’t know the rules of engagement here, the terms of the game.

It’s not like he’s not head-over-heels in love with this jackass, or anything.

“Fair,” Eddie concedes, and it’s….it’s too easy.

Steve lets himself give into the pepper beef but…he’s careful. He doesn’t take his bites too big, lest he choke on whatever Eddie’s cooking up.

And right on goddamn cue:

“Are you rimming the rangoon?”

“No,” Eddie says as he slowly slurps his tongue back between his teeth to look at Steve dead in the eyes before diving back in:

“I’m making sure,” and he licks; “I get all,” and he swirls that tongue, the fucker, he’s unhinged; “the creamout,” and Eddie may only just make it without grinning as wide as it’s very clear he wants to, but his eyes.

Always: his eyes give him away.

“You’re absurd,” Steve huffs evenly and very much does not shift a single inch for the weight starting to strain at his jeans.

“Just making sure you have a full understand on what you might be missing,” Eddie notes blithely, as he pulls gently at the points of the wanton wrapping and stretches the pouch out for Steve to see and…Chinese takeout should be this obscene. It really shouldn’t. It wasn’t built for this.

And yet here’s Eddie Munson, everyone: so of course it was going to be making its pornographic debut in that sinful fucking mouth, Jesus Christ.

“We fucked on this table like, two nights ago,” Steve points out, almost incredulous but he can’t even pretend to be because this is Eddie, so: this not wholly unprecedented beahavior: “I’m gonna fuck you when we go to bed in a couple hours,” he adds meaningfully, because it’s also fucking relevant; “I am not missing anything.”

Eddie dips his chin and eyes Steve shrewdly, almost pityingly, god.

God.

“You’re missing me licking you like a crab raccoon right this moment, though,” Eddie counters with something like dismay, or, or, like lament in his tone. “This singular sliver of time,” he sighs, and shakes his head: “and you’re sitting there with your lo mien.”

In fairness: it is Eddie’s lo mien. They share all the cartons but Eddie is the one who orders the lo mien, who brought that into the order that’s become their regular; theirs.

But that’s just technicalities.

“It’s delicious lo mien,” Steve sniffs, juts out his chin and sticks his nose in the air a little before he gives up the chopsticks to spin the noodles round-and-round dizzy on the fork.

“Not compared to me,” Eddie tacks on, leans in almost touching just as Steve lifts the fork to his lips. He pauses.

“I do not compare my boyfriend to food,” directly, or like, out loud; “just because two things are edible doesn’t make them,” he licks his lips to finds the right word: “equatable,” yeah, that sounds right enough.

Eddie snorts in disbelief, shakes his head:

“Says you.”

But then he’s turning to stab a stick in the crinkly bag again, and Steve grins before he impales another crab-pucker—oh Jesus, shit, he’s gonna equate those now, isn’t he, that connection’s stuck in his brain forever, holy fuck.

“They’re good though, right?” Steve asks as he comes to terms with this new horrifying association he’ll never be able to escape.

“Fucking delicious,” Eddie admits, grin curling so his dimples pop and he glows: “let’s definitely get more than one bag next time. I, umm,” he Pickens a little before he flicks his eyes up to Steve just shy of apologetic; “I maybe ate more than my half of them?”

Steve chuckles and shakes his head, swirls some more lo mien on his fork before he replies:

“Don’t sorry, babe,” he gestures with his noodly-utensil; “I’ll have my share of red-milky puckers later on.”

And Eddie chokes a little, and fucking good: Steve damn well better not be the only one stuck with the consequences of that fucking image in his head.

The bad ones…

And of course also the good ones.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch

♥️

divider credit here

[icycoldninja]

DMC incorrect quotes (pt 3)

Vergil: Are you drunk? Dante: Only on the spirit of Christmas! Nero: And the spirit of whisky.

Nero, to Vergil: Why is Dante not talking? Vergil: I'm playing the silent game with him. Nero: Well, then you just lost. Vergil: I lost two hours ago. I gave him ear plugs and told him to close his eyes. It was the only way I could think of to get him to shut up.

Dante: I don’t even use tubberware anymore. Vergil: What are you saying? Say it again. Dante: Tubberware. Vergil: Say it again. Slow. Dante: Tubberware. Vergil: Slow, very slow - actually, say the first syllable. Dante: Tub. Vergil: Wrong. Dante: What do you mean, wrong? Vergil: I thought I caught that. You’re saying tub. It’s P. Dante: What are you talking about? Vergil: Tupperware. Tupper. Dante: It’s tupper! Vergil: It’s tupper, always has been, always will be. Dante: I thought it was tubberware because it kind of looks like a tub.

Nero: Why is it that I always lose things as soon as I need them? Dante: Actually, it's not that you lose things when you need them. You lose them a while before. It's just that you LOOK for things when you need them. Nero: Okay yeah thanks Dante, that's great but WHERE'S THE FUCKING FIRST AID KIT?

Dante, grinning: Before you were what? Vergil: Before I was- Dante: What? Vergil: Before I was inter- Dante: Before you were interrupted? Vergil: Cut me off one more time and I swear I'll- Dante: What? Vergil: makes frustrated sound Nero, nervously: Stop that. Before he hurts you.

Dante: Do crabs think people walk sideways? Vergil: …Dante, what the hell.

Vergil, as a child, reading their school assignment out loud: I love my library because… Vergil, mouthing words while writing: I love reading, fuck you.

Vergil, after getting a library card: Now I know what true power feels like.

Nero: Did you buy eggs like I asked? Dante: Even better! Nero: What the fuck did you- Dante: holding up a chicken Her name is Fluffy.

Dante, on the phone: Uh. . Hey, Lady, i uh, I’ve been stabbed. Nero: WHAT? WHERE ARE YOU? Dante: Wait- You aren’t Lady. Sorry- I didn’t mean to call you- Nero: NO, WHERE ARE YOU? IM COMING THERE. IM NOT GOING TO LEAVE SOMEONE ALONE THATS BEEN STABBED.

Nero: Would you like your pizza cut into six or eight slices, Dante? Dante: Oh just six, I don’t think I could eat eight.

Dante: Hopefully Vergil has learned a lesson about respecting other people's feelings. Vergil: Oh, shut up and die Dante.

Nero: Ayo, what the FUCK is this?!? Vergil, sitting down, surrounded by corpses: I won Mafia, that’s what.

Nero: Silence is golden. Vergil: Duct tape is silver.

Dante: Big day today, Vergil. holds up two shirts Mustard stain or ketchup stain? Vergil: Mustard– looks less like blood.

Vergil: I’ve never been in a snowball fight before. I don’t know the rules. Nero: What? Vergil: Is there a point system, or is it to the death?

Dante: I’m so tired. Vergil: Did you get to bed late? Dante: No. Vergil: Did you do something strenuous? Dante: No. Vergil: Then why are you tired? Dante: I’m alive. Vergil: Sounds exhausting.

Dante, slamming pots and pans together to the rhythm of "Give it to me, I'm worth it": I didn't get no sleep cause a' y'all! Y'all never gonna sleep cause a' me!

[ivyjupiterwrites]

141 and Chinese Food

Just a thought: British 'Chinese' always looks whack, and kinda sad? For having colonized damn near everywhere and stolen like three worlds over worth of stuff --like why's their food always the most bland, unseasoned stuff??

Tf you mean 'toad in the hole' and its lil sausage guys in a bread? Black pudding?? Not what you think, not even pudding I don't think.

like WHAT??? Brother WHAT?

I'll literally never get over the fact that Yorkshire pudding is a whole firm bowl thingie and is in fact not pudding.

All their foods are pure deception, I swear.

Like that's poutine without cheese and some chicken balls sir. Anyways, my rant about food aside, cause I sure as shit ain't no Gordon Ramsey or Guy Fieri--back to the vision.

All I can imagine is the 141 not knowing about North American 'Chinese' and when they find out about it, their lives are changed.

Permanently.

There's times when they're on a mission, and Soap will just groan, sliding back in his seat cause goddamit he wants that good good food. He wants honey garlic ribs, lemon shrimp, the sweet and sour pork, crab rangoons. He wants it all.

Then Ghost (along with the others heavily agreeing in the background) reminds him just how utterly gaseous and unbearable he is after, always holding his stomach and whining about eating too much. 'If you eat half of an all you can eat buffet, you're going to have stomach troubles Johnny boy.'

Of course Ghost was loosely joking. I can imagine the lot of them rolling into a joint and clearing the place. Like Ghost, Price and Soap alone would be a force to reckon with. Roach is trying to keep pace but bug boy only has so much room and ain't no where near like them. And finally Gaz, who is just there like 'get a normal fucking plate, it's not going to get up and run away christ'.

The rest couldn't help themselves just much as Soap. The group making sure to only go eat it when they knew they were able to go straight to sleep after. The first time they had tried it, they had to run right after, not fun. Them all passed out was the inevitable end anyhow, a frenzy of piranhas before they became hibernating bears.

Then it would be months again before they would be able to get their sticky lil hands on it. Trying to convince Price to just let them touch down sometimes if they were flying over for a quick bite, he never would.

"We have Chinese at home." is absolutely what Price says, being the strict Dad while if it were up to Ghost, fun Uncle, he'd allow it.

"Noooooooo...." Soap somewhere off in the distance probably, poor man just wants something other than the dreary UK food.

[eemoo1o-tfrmoo]

Random HTTYD Headcanons

Someone once tied together the Boneknapper and Death Song, saying that the former would hang around the game sites of the latter and then collect the bones and I agree with that so much. I’d love to re-find that post so I can credit the blog responsible because they are so, so real for this! I had to mention it because it’s such an under-appreciated take. (ETA: I found the original post here, by @dragonjadearts — thank you for this headcanon I think about it all the time.)

Changewings started to put their eggs in trees to deter Cavern Crashers from eating them.

Red Changewings are the ones that inhabit Changewing Island. Green Changewings are from further south.

Male Thunderdrums are actually the primary caretakers of young Thunderdrums. Both parents will look after and protect the eggs until they hatch but after they do the mother often leaves.

Additionally, Thunderdrums will also transport their eggs and/or hatchlings in their mouth.

Thornado and Skullcrusher have actually met. Thornado had gone out when Bing, Bang, and Boom were asleep and visited Berk, hoping to meet up with Stoick alone only to find another dragon by his chair. The encounter was awkward at first for all three parties, with Stoick trying to break the ice, but once the two dragons recognised what they had in common, they became very friendly and respecting of one another.

The Rumblehorn naturally hunts boars as its primary food source. As opposed to fishing for saltwater fish like other dragons, they also fish for freshwater fish like salmon.

Like the Submaripper and Shellfire, and the Skrill and Singetail, the Rumblehorn and Catastrophic Quaken are naturally opposing species.

Dark Deep was originally the home of the Catastrophic Quaken, not the Gronckle. Due to the sheer number of invading Gronckles, the Quaken was then mostly pushed out.

Gronckles are like the rabbits of the dragon world. They can reproduce from a young age and very often and with high egg counts.

Dragons like the Razorwhip, Timberjack, and Typhoomerang have shorter lifespans in comparison to other species.

Barb-shooting dragons grow their spikes like hair/teeth. The spines that are shot out out are ones that are knocked loose by new roots.

The more distinguishable the colours of each head, the older a Zippleback is.

Zipplebacks evolved from a mutation caused by inefficient embryo separation which means most if not all members of the species distantly share the same common ancestor.

Whip & Lash, Bucket and Mulch’s dragon, is actually female.

Bucket is related to the Thorstons.

The twins removed the S from the alphabet in Reign of Fireworms to annoy Snotlout.

The riders have contemplated who is most likely to turn into a Mildew-type, and most of them have come to the agreement that it would be Tuffnut. Chicken is his Fungus.

Mildew actually has a soft spot for Flystorm. Away from the knowing gazes of others he indulges in petting him and giving him fish, muttering “That’s nice,” as he would with Fungus.

Spitelout treats Kingstail better than anyone ever. As such all of his past methodology surrounding dragons is now in vain, and very hypocritical. (That sword analogy? How dare you compare ol’ Kingstail to that, boyo?)

Fishlegs is actually an only child (he’s always stricken me as one and it boggles me if he isn’t). Those kids he teaches in the Gronckle Scouts are actually his younger cousins. They call him ‘uncle’ due to him babysitting a lot and the difference in their ages. Fishlegs has a lot of cousins.

Fishlegs’ mother, Termagant, owns a Snaptrapper by the name of Arrogance, Innocence, Patience & Conscience. This means that Meatlug has older brothers (and a sister. Technically. Allegedly.). At first they were a bit too mischievous/privy with one another for her liking, making them seem like they were hanging up in her a bit, but they eventually got used to one another.

And yes, she makes all six of her children crab cakes.

The Monstrous Nightmare that Valka saves in HTTYD 2 is the one that took Gobber’s hand.

The Night Fury and Light Fury evolved via something similar to the Peppered Moth Evolution. Whichever one was the original species, however, is still unknown.

Gustav is allergic to peanuts.

Fanghook actually has a fear of setting things on fire.

Hiccup sees a lot of his younger self in Gustav, but it frustrates him that Gustav takes a bit more after Snotlout sometimes.

Gustav’s mother actually wanted to call him “Hiccup” (being the runt) but didn’t want to upstage the chief or confuse people, so she chose “Gustav” (meaning god’s staff or popular guest) to be ironic.

Snotlout was originally proud to have Gustav model himself after him, but when growing up and maturing on the Edge he realised that Gustav was or could be reckless because of it and started to resent him for being a “cheap copy” of him.

Hookfang has a soft spot for Gustav, mostly when he was younger. Since Gustav got Fanghook, his patience has been less withstanding.

The dragon with the least patience for kids is actually Stormfly. Just after would be either Barf & Belch or Hookfang, but by a long shot. Hookfang holds more patience for younger kids than older ones.

Spitelout for some reason shows more outwards appreciation towards Gustav, but argues with him over being leader of the A Team.

[deadlymagicbeans]

Can I request some head canons for being married to Elliott please?

** Hi Anon! I'd love too! the romantic nerd that is Elliott need's some love sometimes - Bean**

Elliott Married life Headcanons:

Reader is gender neutral

When you and Elliott are dating he's the normal level of clingy but oh boy, once your married he's practically stuck to you like glue. his love language is physical touch in times when his vocal vocabulary fails him to express how much he loves you through words.

He tries his hardest to help you around the farm, watering crops is his favourite farm chore. he may or may not have tried to have fed the chickens once…. it didn't go well, so sticking to plants is his go-to.

Tries his hardest to cook for you. did he burn down the kitchen once? yes, does he also manage to set fire to the toaster every time he makes toast? also a yes but he is determined to give his S/O the best food they've ever tasted to show gratitude to them for all they do.

!LOVE! !LETTERS!, even sat next to you or far away as in the book tour he did. he's writing to you and about you, what? he can't help it the man practically can't stop gushing about the fact that he's your husband! (With him being a writer it means his letters are full of words of love spoken so beautifully but with a lot of romantic clichés)

This man has a whole collection of hair products and hoards them like mad in your bathroom, good luck trying to find any space in there for your stuff. but now you know how he keeps his hair so silky and smooth.

Everywhere Elliott goes he always keeps at least several of your wedding photos with him either in his pocket or in his wallet. it makes him smile every time he looks at them plus he likes to constantly show them off.

Make him crab cakes once, he's smitten but every week? he's in paradise. who knew married life was so blissful.

He loves to kiss, your forehead, hands, shoulders, mouth and when he's feeling very romantic your neck. this man practically worships the ground you walk on he's never gonna miss an opportunity to kiss you.

If you like to Braid his hair or put flowers in it, good luck trying to change it or asking him to take them out. That man will protect the braids you put in his hair as if his life depended on it.

Sometimes he looses track of how long he's been writing or in a block for. just remind him to look after himself and bring him something to eat as he's terrible at looking after himself sometimes.

His favourite way to relax and end everyday is sit on the porch with his S/O with a book watching the sun go down, it's cheesy but that's Elliott for you.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Sugar Mama Chapter 2

Summary: Bucky is overworked and struggling to get by.  The bills are piling up and he’s consistently in the red with no end in sight.  Y/N is a billionaire’s daughter, entrepreneur and philanthropist having a hard time finding true friends or love.  She has a proposition for him.

bucky barnes x curvy!reader

Warnings: eventual smut, sexual assault (not from Bucky)

The next day he called the number on Y/N’s business card.  A woman named Pepper, her assistant, answered and made an appointment for him to come to her penthouse apartment on Sunday at 7 p.m.  He had that day off from his multiple jobs for once, but instead of resting he was stressing about the meeting all day.  He barely slept with how nervous he was, going through his closet over and over again to figure out what would be best to wear and pacing around his tiny studio apartment.

When the time came to leave he got a text from an unknown number saying a car was waiting for him outside.  He peered out his window to find a black town car at the curb.  He laughed at just how strange this all was.  The ride was awkward and quiet, and once they reached her building the driver instructed him where to go.  He followed their instructions until he found himself leaving the elevator and entering into a large sitting room with a wall of windows showcasing the Manhattan skyline.  He gaped at the sunset hovering over the buildings, brilliant oranges and pinks peaking through the windows and streets.  He looked around the room at the high end furniture and art pieces on the wall.  Whoever designed the apartment had obviously been given an open budget as he recognized some of the items that he could only dream of using on his design boards.

“Bucky!  Good evening,” Y/N’s voice rang out around the corner.  Bucky followed her voice until he entered the kitchen.  It was huge, with appliances that a Michelin chef would die for.  Y/N was standing in front of the island in the middle, making sandwiches, dressed in a sweater and sweatpant set that was black and spotted with yellow smiley faces and matching slippers on her feet.  She looked so small and casual compared to all the other large and grand things in the apartment that it made him smile through his nervousness.

“Hello, Miss Y/L/N, good evening,” he greeted her back, standing awkwardly at the entrance to the kitchen.

“None of that, just call me Y/N.  You’re not allergic to anything are you?” she asked suddenly, her hands stilling over the food.

“No, nothing that I know of, anyway,” he quickly assured her.

“Do you like chicken or ham?” she smiled and turned back to the sandwiches, cutting a tomato and layering meat and cheese on one.

“Ham is fine, thank you,” he answered, smiling back at her.  She finished the sandwich and slid the plate over to him, gesturing for him to sit down on one of the stools by the island.  He caught it and gave her a quiet thanks as he sat before taking a bite.  She watched his reaction, and when he hummed in satisfaction she smiled again and went back to finishing her sandwich then hopping up on the counter to sit.

“There’s all kinds of drinks in the fridge, you’re welcome to whatever you’d like,” she gestured towards it behind her.

“Oh sure, thank you,” he said around another bite and walked to the fridge, opening it to find what looked like a full grocery store inside.  He quickly chose a water bottle and went back to the island.

“Did you like the crab cakes and risotto?”

Bucky’s eyes rolled back dramatically, making her laugh. “Oh yeah, still definitely my favorite, best thing on the menu there, in my opinion.  Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, giving him a lopsided grin.  “So, I’m sure you’re just dying to get this weird conversation over with,” she teased him as she took a bite.

Bucky chuckled as he finished chewing.  “Honestly, yes.  I’ve been very nervous all day.”

“Let’s just dive right in, shall we?  Have you ever been a sugar baby before?”

Bucky took a sharp breath and huffed it out.  “No, I haven’t.  Um, what exactly would it entail, if I said yes?”

“What are you hesitant about?” she queried, watching him intently.

“Uh, I guess, um,” he cleared his throat and decided to take a quick drink of water.  “So, I give you, what, companionship?  And you pay for things for me?”

“In a nutshell, yes.  It’s a mutually beneficial relationship,” Y/N answered matter-of-factly.

“So what kind of companionship are you, uh, looking for?” he asked hesitantly.  “I’ve heard of these kinds of things starting out okay but then becoming, um…”

“Sexual?” she finished for him.  He nodded.  “I don’t expect sex from you, Bucky.”  He let out the breath that he didn’t realize he was holding.  “I also wouldn’t be opposed to it, if the relationship organically led to that, but otherwise no, I don’t expect sex or sexual favors from you.”  She set aside her sandwich for a moment as she faced him.  

“My reason for doing this is because I have friends, plenty of friends, but those friendships have all been born out of those people wanting something from me.  Money, connections, for me to invest in their business, using my name as a way to get ahead, get in contact with my father, and so on.  It’s very hard to find real friendship, let alone anything more romantic.  And I know buying someone’s time isn’t exactly normal or the best way to get it, but it’s my last resort, really,” she finished, her eyes looking sad as she took another bite of her sandwich.

Bucky felt bad for her.  She had all the money and resources open to her and yet she was still lonely.  This big fancy apartment with just her in it.  

“Anyways, I’d like companionship.  Someone to come home to, to take with me as a date to events, spend time with on the weekends, go to parties with, maybe get a good cuddle or some hugs, just a friend.  And if something more were to ever grow from that, then great!  But that’s what I’d like.  You would of course be free to go spend time with other friends and family, I wouldn’t keep you prisoner here,” she joked.

Bucky snorted at that as he finished his sandwich.  “Okay, and what about my jobs?”

“Jobs?  How many do you have?” Y/N’s head jerked up at the question, a look of concern in her eyes.

“Three right now,” he answered nonchalantly.

“Three?!” she sputtered.  “Jesus, Bucky, no wonder you look so tired.”

“Tell me about it,” Bucky sighed as he took another drink.  

“Do you want to keep any of them?” 

“Um…I’d like to keep my main one.  I went to college for architecture and interior design, and during normal working hours I work for Joaquin Torres in Soho, so I’d like to keep doing that,” he explained.

“Oh yes, Joaquin!  I worked with him a few years back.  Architecture and interior design, huh?  I’d love to see your work,” she said excitedly, her eyes brightening.  

“I’d love that,” he smiled genuinely at her interest.  “But yes, I’d like to keep that one, if that’s okay?”

“Of course.”

“Alright, um…and money?” He felt so strange asking for money.  

“I’ll need a list of your debts, and I’d like you to break your lease and come live here.  I’ll cover any fees that come with that process, including for movers if you have anything big needing to be moved.  You’ll have your own room, your own space.  As for payment, you’ll get a weekly allowance of $5000 that you’re free to spend or save however you want, and if you need or want anything else or more, we can talk about it,” she rattled off.  “I’d like to take care of you, Bucky.  I’d like you to feel comfortable, and hopefully help make your life better.”

Bucky could feel the tears welling up in his eyes as she laid out the benefits to him.  His debts paid, living in this beautiful apartment, with a beautiful woman, getting paid $5000 a week, getting to keep his job and possibly get new opportunities just for being in her inner circle.  

“Oh Buck, don’t cry,” she jumped down from the counter suddenly and walked over to him, her hands reaching for his face and brushing away the tears that fell.  “Please tell me those are at least happy tears?” she pleaded as her fingers stroked the sides of his face.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” he sniffled, “it’s just, really generous, Y/N.  I feel like all that just for my company and friendship isn’t fair.”

“It is an unbalanced dynamic, I agree.  But I promise that’s all I want from you, Bucky.  All the money in the world means nothing without having someone to share it with,” she gave him a smile then let go of his face and reached for his hands.  He gave them to her to hold and she rubbed his knuckles with her thumbs.  “So…is that a yes?” she asked hopefully.

Bucky scoffed, “Well yeah, I’d be pretty stupid to say no, wouldn’t I?”

“Not necessarily,” Y/N scoffed back at him.  “I want this to be an enthusiastic yes, with no hesitation or reservations.  So I’ll ask again, is that a yes?”

Bucky took a moment to look at her, really look at her.  She was sincere, with hopeful eyes and a determined set of her lips.  He would be dumb to refuse, but he also didn’t want to refuse.  He had no reason to. He wanted this.  There was a small part of him deep down that hungrily thought, I want her.  He pushed that away as he nodded his head.

“Yes, I say yes.”

“Yay!” Y/N cheered, jumping up and down a little and shaking his hands in hers.  He laughed at her and squeezed her hands.

“Would it be weird if I hugged you?” Bucky asked. 

“I’d love a hug,” Y/N said, opening her arms up to him.

He stepped into her embrace, her arms around his waist and his arms around her upper body.  She nuzzled her face into his chest, breathing him in as he squeezed her.  He felt like he was taking a breath of fresh air as she held him, one of her hands rubbing up and down his back.  They stayed like that for a few long minutes, neither of them seeming to want to let go.

“So when can you move in?” she murmured against his chest.

“Maybe this Friday?  After work?  That way I can pack and get some things in order…quit a couple of jobs.”

“Yes, quit those jobs,” she agreed as she turned her face up towards him.  “We’ll get you moved in on Friday night and then binge watch a show and eat all the pizza we can.  Get to know each other.  Sound good?”

He could just kiss her with how sweet she was being.  “Sounds perfect,” he agreed.

***

The week seemed to trudge on for Bucky.  He and Y/N had exchanged phone numbers and were constantly texting each other.  She would check up on him, ask him how his day was going, if he needed help with anything, getting the list of his debts and lenders, making sure he ate and would randomly have food and drinks sent to his apartment.  He had packed his small amount of things within two days and put his furniture up for sale on a local apartment sales site, making a few hundred dollars on the side.  Y/N had called his landlord and figured out the fees for breaking his lease early, so all he had to do was go to work, come home, pack whatever he had left, and wait for Friday.  Quitting his other two jobs had been incredibly freeing, and he wasn’t sure what to do with himself with all the free time he now had after 5 p.m.

On Thursday night he invited Steve over for one last hurrah in his apartment.  “I can’t believe you’re moving.  What was this job you got again?  Wanda was being really weird about it the other day and told me to talk to you,” Steve questioned him.

“I’m still working at the interior design firm, I just don’t have to work the other two now,” he was mum about it, not sure how Steve would react.

“That’s not actually answering my question, Buck,” Steve exasperatedly sighed.  “What’s going on?”

“Okay, just don’t judge me,” Bucky warned him.  Steve gave him an unimpressed look and sat on the floor where the loveseat used to be.  Bucky sat across from him as they ate the Chinese food Y/N had delivered to his apartment.  “I served some pretty wealthy people last Friday night, when I covered your shift?”  Steve nodded.  “One of them was Y/N Y/L/N.”  Steve’s eyes widened.  “Yeah!  She was super cool.  When it came time to pay she wanted to talk to me.  She asked me to, uh…to be her sugar baby.”

“She asked WHAT?!” Steve started laughing uncontrollably, clutching at his chest and falling over.

“I said don’t judge me!” Bucky yelled at him, throwing a dumpling at him.

“I’m not, I just, ha!  And you obviously said yes, cuz you’re moving, and quit two of your jobs!  Haha!” Steve was rolling on the floor as he started crying from laughing so hard.  “No no, Bucky, I mean it’s weird but hey, you gotta do what you gotta do, right?” He kept giggling. 

Bucky glared at him.  “She’s going to be paying me $5000 a week.”

Steve immediately stopped laughing as he gawked at Bucky.  “What?”

“She’s moving me into her penthouse apartment.  She’s going to pay off my debt.”

“Uh…what are you doing to get these kinds of benefits Buck?” Steve was suddenly serious, his eyebrows hung low over his eyes as he sat up.

“Keeping her company.  Literally giving her companionship.  Friendship.  That’s it.”

“Oh come on, Buck, that can’t be it.”

“That is it.”

“No way, dude, she’s gotta expect something more in the end,” Steve accused.  “Did you already have sex with her?  Now she’s gonna keep you as her plaything?”

“What?  Ew, Steve, god no,” Bucky grimaced at his friend.  “Look, she’s hot, I like her, but no I haven’t slept with her.  If it happens in the future then hey, why not?  But she doesn’t expect sex from me.  This isn’t that kind of thing,” he promised him.  “She literally just wants a friend.”

Steve analyzed him, trying to see if there was a lie hidden in his explanation.  When he didn’t find anything he sighed again.  “Okay, man.  Look if you feel good about it and think it’s a good idea, then go for it.  I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I won’t,” Bucky said resolutely.  “It’ll be okay.  Hey, I’ll see if I can get you and Peg to come with us as a double date or something.  She mentioned having season tickets for the Yankees?”

Steve brightened at this news.  “The Yankees, huh?  Double dating with a billionaire’s daughter,” he mused.  “Peggy’s kind of a fan of hers.”

“It’ll be great, Steve.  You don’t need to worry about me,” Bucky said, clapping his friend on the shoulder.  “But I appreciate it.”

***

Bucky practically ran home after work was over that Friday.  He was ready to go, not needing any movers, with just a couple of bags of things he owned.  He grabbed his stuff, left the key in the slot of the landlord’s mailbox, and walked outside to the already waiting town car.  The driver helped him load his things in and sped off towards the penthouse.

He took the elevator ride back up to her place.  The doors opened and revealed Y/N standing there, her arms crossed, shifting from one foot to the other and fighting a smile on her face.

“Honey!  I’m home!” Bucky announced as he stepped in with a wide smile on his face.

Y/N laughed as he dropped his bags at their feet.  “Welcome home, Buck,” she greeted him, opening her arms for a hug.  He happily accepted it and gave her a tight squeeze.  “Come on, let’s get you settled in.”

They spent a good portion of the night getting Bucky unpacked into his room and making a list of anything else he may need to get fully moved in.  Afterwards she ordered pizza and drinks and pulled out all the snacks she had in the pantry.  Once the food arrived they binge-watched a few different shows, talking about their favorites, then altogether forgetting about the TV as they got to know each other better.  

“Steve is my best friend.  We’ve known each other since we were little kids.  When his parents died my mom took him in and then when she died, he helped me get through it,” he shared.

“What about your dad?” Y/N asked.

“Oh, he was in and out of the picture.  Always nice enough, but he just wasn’t the fatherly type.  I haven’t seen or spoken to him since mom died, and it’s better that way,” he said, looking away from her intense gaze.  “But what about you?  Any traumatic childhood experiences?”

She chuckled at his dark humor.  “It was just me and my dad.  My mom was only in it for the money with him.  I was her pretty doll to dress up, her pawn to get as much child support and alimony as possible.  Once I turned 18 she had a mental breakdown knowing she’d lose a big portion of the payout she’d been getting, and I’ve kept my distance since then,” Y/N looked away as well.  “She’ll call me sometimes, always asking for money.  The alimony would last her the rest of her life if she’d stop gambling and hoarding.”

“Jesus,” Bucky murmured.  He reached a hand out and intertwined his fingers with the hand closest to him.  She gave him an appreciative smile.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” she reassured him.  “It is what it is.”  They sat silently for a moment, digesting the not-so-fun topic.  “Anyways, I’d love to meet Steve, he sounds great.”

“Oh yeah, I told him we’d have to double date some time.  He and his girlfriend Peggy went to that new burlesque club and loved it.”

“Did they?  Oh good, I’m glad.  That place was a labor of love, I tell ya,” Y/N giggled.  “But I love the art of burlesque.  Have you ever been to one?”

“No, I haven’t.  I’d like to,” Bucky said truthfully.

“We’ll go tomorrow.  You should invite your friends.  I’ll get us all in.  It’ll be fun,” she smiled again, patting his hand and then standing up and cleaning up some of the trash.  

“Let me help,” Bucky said as he stood and grabbed the pizza boxes.

The night wound down and they talked some more until it was nearly midnight and Y/N’s eyes began to droop.  “Y/N, you gotta get to bed,” Bucky poked her arm as her head began to loll to the side on the couch.  

“What?  No, I’m fine,” Y/N said groggily.  

“Come on…let’s get you to bed,” Bucky coaxed her, standing up and pulling her up by her arms.

“Oh, alright,” she agreed, then wrapped her arms around his waist.  “Guide me.”

“Oh god,” Bucky laughed, then started waddling his way towards the bedrooms beyond the kitchen.  Y/N was walking backwards, keeping a firm grip on his waist so as not to trip and fall, giggling every once in a while as they swayed towards her room.

As he walked into her room he led her over to the edge of her bed.  “Come on, you, we made it,” he said as he tried to push her off.

“But you’re so comfy,” she complained, her hug tightening on him again.

“And so are you, but you’re falling asleep,” he tried to pull her arms apart from behind him.  In the process they lost their balance and both fell onto her bed, Bucky catching himself on his elbows at the last minute before he squashed her.  She laughed as her hands flew up to his chest to help stop him.  He laughed as well, his head falling to her shaking shoulder.  As the laughter died down they stared at each other, their faces within inches of each other, the air around them shifting quickly.  

“Sorry,” Bucky blinked, breaking the spell. 

“It’s okay, it was my fault,” Y/N whispered as her eyes looked back and forth between his eyes.  “You know you have the prettiest eyes?”

Bucky huffed a laugh, his breath fanning her face.  “That’s funny, cuz I think you have the prettiest eyes.”

“I’m being serious, Buck,” she whined, then held back a yawn.

“Yeah, okay, time to sleep,” Bucky said as he lifted himself up.  Y/N sat upright on her bed as he stood before her.  “Goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight Bucky.  If you need anything I’ll be here,” she reminded him, giving him a sleepy smile.

“Alright, sleep well.”

“You, too.”

Bucky gave her one more smile before turning and leaving for his room next door.  As he got ready for bed and settled into his new bed he sat and looked around him.  The room alone was larger than his previous apartment.  He was in a king size bed, his clothes in a mid century modern dresser that cost more than his rent inside a walk-in closet and a full bathroom with all the amenities one could ever want or need.  Another smile spread across his face as he tried to accept that this was now his life.  He didn’t know how long this was going to last, or what this weird relationship would be like even a year from now, but he was extremely grateful to Y/N for helping him at his lowest.

**I'm not sure the best way to tag people who requested to be tagged? I'm still pretty new to posting like this on Tumblr so please be patient with me. But I'm happy y'all are liking it so far!**

[unamused-boss]

Take out Night

Billy Hargrove x Fem oc Hello! Just before we begin this is a fic that will introduce another Oc that I have created. A Billy x Oc to be more precise. I have seen so many other creators, some whom I am mutuals with, make amazing oc. And I wanted to jump on the train with it. Plus I really want Billy to have a weird gf! So I have made a character for Billy hargrove and I hope you like her.

It was all strange when the two first got together. If you mean the Cali boy going after probably the weirdest hot girl in town then you'd be correct. Because that is what happened when Billy Hargrove asked out, and is still going out with, Phoebe Brown.

Yep, Hawkin's local weirdo. Has been seen walking bare foot within the woods. Constantly seeming like she has consumed an intense amount of drugs even though she doesn't even drink or smoke. Claiming it ruins the soul of the body. Her dark brown hair always done up in a new style. Along with her clothes matching her presence, comfortable.

It was a month long gossip train as to why Billy would ask out such a peculiar girl. Many of Billy's, so called, friends said it was because he lost a bet or was looking for something easy. But what the masses do not know it took Billy a whole month before Phoebe even said yes to a date. Billy claimed he has never liked Hawkin's heifers, as much as Phoebe has told him to stop calling them that, he wanted something he thought would bring him excitement. So when he laid eyes on Phoebe Brown, he knew it was her.

Well to get that out of the way with all the sentimental shit that we will get into later. Lets focus on where our couple is at presently. It is the middle of December for Hawkins with a blissful, not to Billy, cold outside. And in front of a little chinese food restaurant sat a charged blue camaro where our couple sits. It is just another of their many at home date nights tonight. Let's see where the night will take them.

“Do you have to do this every time?” Billy asked his girlfriend. Who at the moment has her nose deep within a menu of said Chinese restaurant. 

“Yes, what if I wanna try something new?” Phoebe said back to him, still with her face in the pamphlet of the menu. 

“Babe there is no doubt in my mind that you have not eaten the whole menu since we have discovered this restaurant.” Billy reasoned with her. “Can we please order the food so we can go back to your house”

Phoebe faced him with a smile gracing her face. “You know, for such a big strong guy, you can be very soft and cute.” The statement flusters Billy, she knows this. But he will always keep his tough guy act up till they get home. So in response to his girlfriend's statement, he turned his head away from her. Which did not help because she could see his ears turning red which meant he was blushing. Phoebe just giggled at him, “Get out of the damn car.” Was all he said to her, but not with any mean intent behind it. So that is what you did. You both got out of the car to make your way in to order your dinner for the night.

“Hey Billy, Hey Phoebe” The cashier greeted, “What can I get ya?”

“We’ll get the spicy chicken combo and spring rolls to go with it.” Billy answered to the cashier. 

“We will also take the Lo mien and crab rangoons.” Phoebe added on with confidence.

“Um, who paid?” Billy sassed to her.

“Um, who’s job is it to pay?” She simply sassed back. “I also paid for your gas, be a good boyfriend and pay for your girlfriend's dinner.” Billy just rolled his eyes to her.

“Alright coming right up.” That was all that needed to be said for the two to take their seats in front of the window to wait on their food.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Phoebe asked.

“Okay, hit me.” Billy said thinking it was gonna be a challenge.

“Why did you ask me out?” She asked simply.

Billy was silent for a minute. “This isn’t a trap is it? Last time this happened my tire got slashed.” Billy panicked.

“No it’s not… I just- I just think there is someone more suited for you than me.” Phoebe admitted.

“What like some cow on the cheer team?” Billy said very aggressively.

“Billy- I’m serious.”

“The reason I asked you out was because you were different from every other girl I have ever dated.” Billy told her, looking into her honey colored eyes.

“But-”

“I don’t wanna hear it.” He stopped her. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and if I had to go another month of chasing you around to simply look in my direction then I will. I know I’m not the best guy, but you have made me realize that I will do whatever it takes for us to stay together.” Billy’s eyes softened as he looked at her. Phoebe's once tired looking eyes became wide while staring at Billy as he spoke. No guy has ever said something like that to her. Yeah, she knows she’s weirded Billy out before but he still stayed with her.

“Billy” She spoke softly, a smile making its way onto her face. He smiled back at her, taking her hand into his on the table. 

“Order 37!” Was shouted out, to which brought the couple out of their trance.

Once the food was picked up. The couple made their way to the camaro to go home. The drive was silent, it was warm and comfortable. Just the quiet tone of one of Billy’s rock tapes playing from the window. As Phoebe was looking out the window to the dark outside of the night. She saw the glimmer of snow, she gasped as her eyes lit up. Even though it had snowed for the past few weeks, with every new snowfall Phoebe got excited. She loved the cold weather unlike her boyfriend. Billy heard her small gasp from beside him; he made a small glance over to her to see she was staring out the window. He just smiled at her expression, he couldn’t have asked for anyone better. The couple usually didn’t express too much emotion in front of others, not too heavy on pda other than a quickie in the janitor's closet. But the nights such as these were Billy could get away from his house to go home with her. To spend the night cuddling and watching trash movies they can make fun of. It was pure bliss for Billy, He loved it  He loved her.

The car came to a stop in Phoebe’s driveway. With her parents out of the house for the next few days that meant more time with Billy, and being able to eat in the living room. The food was set out on the coffee table, blankets were prepped, movies prepped to be watched, and Billy’s side ready for Phoebe to cuddle into. The chosen pick from the Family Video  tonight were American Ninja, obviously Billy, and Smooth Talk, clearly picked out by Phoebe, the two had very distinct tastes. The two watched and ate with glee for being in the other mere presence. In the middle of one of the movies Billy pauses it out of nowhere.

“Heey?” Phoebe said in confusion to his action.

Billy turned to her, now her side is cold. “Why did you ask me that question at the restaurant tonight?” Billy was curious. He wanted to make sure no one said anything to her and so she wasn’t in her head.

“I just- I just started thinking about the types of girls you went after before you got with me.” She said, “And I felt like I was a downgrade.” Hearing this broke his heart. “ I’m noy like Tammy, Tina, or Nancy… It's stupid but I can’t help but feel insecure sometimes. You were told about me from people that judged me and still chose me after everything. I just don’t get it sometimes.”

“Like I said before, you are unlike any girl I have ever been with, and I love it. I love you.” Billy said.

“You said the L word.” Phoebe giggled at him. Billy’s smile broke out after you said that.

“What are you gonna punish me?” He teased. In response Phoebe places her soft lips onto Hargroves. It felt like a puzzle being completed when they kissed. Phoebe became more forward and started to slowly push Billy back until he was on his back while she was sitting on him still kissing on her couch. The kiss slowed and the two started to pull away. Looking at one another for a moment. Until a sly smirk appeared on Billy’s face.

“I should say the L word more often if that’s my punishment.” He flirted. Phoebe just laughed at him then pulled him up right to continue where they left off. In the movie obviously. Billy played the movie and Phoebe snuggled back into his side.

“Just so you know.” Phoebe started. “I love you too.” Billy smiled and kissed the top of her head. The night was perfect, as always.

Hope you enjoyed! Like always if you have feed back I would love to hear it.

if you wanna see anything specifically with Billy and Phoebe just request or comment.

Thank you, love ya bookies!

[imkillerbae]

Would you do a sequel in plush drama? I feel you are talented at long stories ❤️

Snap Drama (Valorant Yoru x Reader) (Plush Drama pt 2)

Summary: You file a leave and you miss Yoru so you send him a snap.

Word count: 3.5k

CW: Fluff, Fem!Reader, Phoenix, Jett and Neon slander, crab talk, mentions of celebrities I dont know)

Art is also by me

The windows were left open, the midnight air was cold as it blew against your curtains. The stars were bright against the indigo sky, and you stared at them quietly, hugging your black cat plush against your chest.

You were on leave from the VP, currently residing in your home with your family. And while you enjoyed the time you had with the folks, you couldn’t help but wonder how everyone was in HQ. Especially Yoru.

When your leave papers were signed, he was away for a mission and wouldn’t be back until further notice. You didn’t know why, but you felt bad leaving without saying goodbye properly.

With a heavy heart, you packed lightly for the trip. But you didn’t forget to pack Yoru Jr. with you, since you didn’t wanna feel lonely in the plane. And during the flight, you itched to send him a text, or call him. It’s not like you needed to tell him any of this. But it just felt wrong not to. You shook the thoughts away: you can’t jeopardize his mission just so you could update him about something he may not even be interested in knowing.

It was a week after you left that he got back from the mission with Sage, Sova and Reyna. He was jetlagged, hungry, and aching in places he shouldn’t be. But all he wanted to do as he stepped down the Vulture was to give you this keychain he bought from Bangkok, a trinket he managed to snag with limited time.

His brows knit together as his eyes roamed the field, the agents coming to greet them, but there was no sign of you anywhere. He grits his teeth as he approached Phoenix. “Aye, man! You don’t look too hot,” he laughs, doing their handshake. “Yeah, and? I’ll get patched up later.” He replies curtly, brushing the dust off his jacket, looking around as covertly as he could, hoping that you were just late or something.

“Whatcha looking for?” Phoenix asks, also looking around. Yoru’s eye twitches in annoyance but he shakes his head. “No one. Doesn’t matter.” With that reply, Phoenix quirks an eyebrow before smirking. “Ah, I see how it is,” he smiles widely, elbowing Yoru. “If you’re looking for Y/N, she’s on leave. I’m surprised you didn’t know?”

Yoru raises a brow. He knew about your scheduled leave, but he thought that it would be approved later than anticipated. He gripped on the keychain he held inside his fist. “Wasn’t looking for anyone,” he shrugs, but winces at the aching on his arm.

It was Phoenix’s time to raise a brow. “Is that right? Say that again, and I’ll believe you,” he laughs, shaking his head. Phoenix found it funny how hard his best friend tried to hide how much he liked you, and yet everyone could see how enamored he was. But no one wants to play cupid unless they wanted a bullet through their stomach, curtesy of Yoru.

Except for Phoenix of course. He had the balls to play with fire.

Yoru hissed at him and his teasing, huffing. “I don’t have time for your nonsense right now Phoenix. Go unpack or someshit. Make yourself useful,” he rolls his eyes, pulling the jacket off him. With the soreness he had, it was getting heavy. “Oh, but am I really talking nonsense?” He jokes, snagging the keychain from Yoru’s grip by the loop, spinning it around his fingertips. “Another knickknack huh? If you keep being such a chicken, she’s gonna have enough shit for a yard sale.”

Yoru blushed, blood rushing from his neck. After his first move of giving you that cat plush, he’s been building up the courage to give you something a little more overt with his intentions. His intentions being along the lines of ‘I like you and I want to spoil you’. “What the fuck are you on about? T-that’s not for her. I just found that lying around some place,” he defended, too tired to retrieve the thing from Phoenix.

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep it then if it isn’t too important. That alright with you?” Phoenix challenged, reaching his hand out, the hoop of the keychain dangling on his fingertips. With a smug grin, he jingles it, mocking Yoru as he tried his best to look disinterested; his red face giving him away. “Doudemo ii. It’s trash anyway,” he grumbled and rolled his eyes, walking towards the HQ entrance, bumping his shoulders against Phoenix in annoyance.

“You know, you gotta make up a better excuse than ‘I found it some place,’ she’s not some lost and found box!” Phoenix calls out, and Yoru’s eye twitches as he turns around to give Phoenix the middle finger. Why was he a million times more annoying today? And why did he have to meddle so much?

But as much as he hated what Phoenix said, he was right. He needed to make up a more sensible excuse; he can’t just keep giving you stuff and hope the message comes across clearly. He needed to make a move.

But that’s easier said than done. Actually, it’s not easy saying it either.

Recently, anytime he’s talked to you, his brain would lag, trying to form the right sentences. It wasn’t like him to be so careful with his words, being known to be quite the opposite. But with you, he found himself wanting to be more sincere. Unfortunately for him, that wasn’t his style, so he just ends up being quiet. He never stuttered, and yet you always had him too stunned to speak.

When he stumbles on his words, he gets so mad at himself that he distances himself from you sometimes. He always thought of himself as a confident man, egotistic even. And yet you were able to stun him with just a smile. And when you say his name, oh god. He found it so cute, his heart clenches at the sound. Why was he so bad at communicating his feelings?

After a trip to the infirmary, a relaxing bath and a long nap, he was well rested. Unfortunately, this resulted in him not being able to fall asleep at night time. A warm towel was propped on his neck, his hair down from its updo. He sat on his chair, propping one leg up. He stared at himself in the mirror, eyes narrowed. He was annoyed with himself and his inability to communicate properly beyond the battlefield. It was frustrating. He could tell how confused you were with his mixed signals, and he was trying his best to set himself straight.

He looked at his phone and thought of you. Somehow he wanted to overcompensate and send you a text. He just wanted to talk to you and not fuck up. Unbeknownst to him, you felt the same way.

It was already late at night and yet you still wanted to text him. You wanted to know how he was, how his mission ended, and tell him sorry that you weren’t able to meet before you left. Fuck it, I can’t take this anymore, you thought to yourself. Yoru was brave enough to hand you gifts, you should be brave enough to send a text.

But what text should I send?

Picking up the phone was the easy part. Typing down words seemed daunting. You scratch your head, biting your lip. Plus, where do you even send it? You wouldn’t be caught dead sending anyone flirty messages in VAL-SECURE. Scrolling through your apps, you see Snap. Perfect. You should send him a photo!

But of what?

God this was getting more complicated than it needs to be. Your palms sweat as you stare at yourself in the screen. It would be too forward sending a selfie out of nowhere. You look around and see your plush, and ding! An idea comes to mind. You send a picture of the cat instead and captioned it with a ‘hi :>’

As soon as you saw that the message was sent, you threw your phone to the bed and stared off into the distance. The act of spontaneity hitting you like a brick wall.

You sent the Kiritani Ryo a fucking Snap.

It’s not like you’ve never texted each other before, but it was mostly just updates about the protocol or missed mission details. But this was Snapchat. You didn’t even know if he used that. You knew he had social media but never posted anything, only using it to check on others or troll Phoenix.

Out of nervousness, you hug the poor cat plush. You reminded yourself that it was already late, and he may not even reply. You felt a pang of comfort then sadness at that fact. Much to your chagrin, you see the light of your phone pulse. A notification. You look at the phone, mortified.

Shit.

Yoru on the other hand stared blankly at the photo you sent, finding himself too stunned to act on it initially. Blood rushes from his neck to his face, his ears almost steaming as he stared closely at the picture. He felt his heart clench. It was… so cute…

Even if you weren’t in the photo, he found it adorable that you brought the plush with you. He also couldn’t help but imagine you in bed with your pyjamas, lying down as you send the cute picture. He rubs his forehead with his free hand, baffled and in awe. It took him a few moments to register the fact that he had to reply something.

Looking at himself at the mirror, his brows raise. He checked himself on all angles and smirked to himself. His hair wasn’t done up but he looked good regardless, something he took pride in.

But as soon as he opened the camera, a blush crept up his cheeks.

He was sending YOU a fucking SELFIE at 12 AM.

Anytime he tried to get a good photo of himself, the blush was very evident. He tried every good angle, but he couldn’t hide how flustered he was. God, you got him taking selfies at 2AM. He didn’t even like taking photos of himself!

Out of desperation, he instead sends a photo of half of his face. He captioned it with a simple ‘hey.’ Fuck it.

After it sent, he froze in his seat, his face red like a tomato. He was screaming angrily at himself on the inside for that horrible angle but not a sound left his lips. He sat the phone down on his lap, pulling out his comb and combing his hair in panic.

It was laughable how easily you’d turn this narcissistic and egocentric jerk into the most self-conscious and shy person ever.

Seeing the photo on your end, you gasp and squeal. You bit your lip, trying to drown down your excitement. You saved the photo and smiled. He was so adorable. You didn’t expect him to send you anything of this sort. Breathing in, you prepare to reply.

> Lol why are u still awake? You chat, then holding down the phone to your chest. Surprisingly, he replied rather quickly this time.

>> I could ask you the same thing. You laugh to yourself. The way he chats is similar to the way he talks; blunt and dry.

> Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d bother you for a bit. You replied honestly.

He stares at your last message for a little while. He smiled a little to himself, the last sentence sending butterflies to his stomach. On your end, it seemed he was typing out something long, but you were dismayed to see his actual reply.

>> Oh.

Oh. What could he mean by that? You sat there for a bit, thinking about what to reply. You were starting to think this was a bad idea, sending him a text knowing damn well he was tired from the mission. Maybe he wasn’t in the moo—

>> How are you holding up there

Your eyes widened as he sent another message.

> It’s fun for the most part. Got to hang out with family. Hard dodging questions about my *job*

> But it does get a bit boring sometimes. There’s not much to do around here.

> How about you? How was your mission btw

As you sent your replies, he patiently waits for you to finish your thought. It takes a while for him to reply, thinking carefully about what to say. Although he is a bit glad that his brain doesn’t lag as much through text.

>> You brought the plush huh

That was all he replied after a long while. You pout as he dodged the question.

>> I hope he’s good company when you’re bored.

He was really happy to see that you brought the cat with you. It gave him a bit of an ego boost. But he’d never tell that to you.

> Oh yeah, he is. I was scared of missing the VP so I thought I’d bring a piece of it along with me.

2 minutes pass.

>> that’s good.

>> nothing too exciting about the mission. Bangkok has pretty good food. We kicked ass. The usual.

>> I got you a keychain but one direction took it for himself.

> Did you just call phoenix… one direction????????????

>> He’s a brit and he sings. Makes sense.

> you cant just call him that😭

>> better yet: No Direction. Because his aim is shit and he’s a fucking idiot.

> OMG😭😭😭

> what does that make Neon👀

>> idk. Imitation lea salonga maybe

>> kinda like imitation crab. It’s good but not quite the same with the real thing

>> had to look up filipino singers for that one idk any

> mans really comparing neon to a crab😭😭😭

>> correction: lea salonga crab. This isn’t some normal crustacean.

>> it’s got the karaoke buff

> hahahaha!😭

While you laugh at his silly remarks, Yoru on the other hand was sweating in his seat, his hoodie suddenly feeling a lot heavier.

Since when did he get so chatty?

He was trying so hard to be funny, it was pathetic.All he needed now was to smear lipstick on his nose and he’d be a fully fledged clown. He sighs and gets out of his room, walking to the rooftop for some air.

> To be fair, Neon’s hairdo does look like crab pincers.

>> ?

> YOU PLANTED IT IN MY BRAIN

> Now I cannot *unsea*

> badum tss

> hehe

>> wow

>> im blocking you now.

> No pls

>> beg

> WTF😭

He smiles absentmindedly as his legs guided him up the rooftop. His hoodie did enough to shield him from the cold night air, the mellow moonlight illuminating his steps. His hair flows with the breeze from the ocean, and he could see the stars vividly. The HQ was isolated from the world in an island, which made the sky all the more clear. He stood in front of the low railing and propped a foot up on it, taking a lighter and lighting up a cigarette. He huffs out smoke which was immediately blown away behind him.

> hey

> is it okay if I call?

He stares at the message for a moment, his heart clenching again. He looks around nervously, gritting his teeth. He’d love to, but he might fuck his words up. His foot taps impatiently against the concrete floor, trying to decide how to reply.

> or not

> it’s okay if not

Seeing that, he presses the call button out of impulse. Pressing the phone against his cheek, he waits for you to answer.

You jumped when your phone started ringing, with his face plastered over the screen. You blushed, your spontaneity paying off. Clearing your throat, you breathe out through your mouth. Pressing the answer icon, you smiled.

“Hey,” he says through the phone, blowing out smoke. “Hi,” you squeak, lying on your side with the plush to your chest. “I almost thought it wasn’t you sending those messages,” you laugh, and he jerks an eyebrow upward. “How so?” He asks curiously, sitting down on the concrete, his back to the moonlight.

“Well, you’re not exactly the type to use social media often, let alone snap.”

“That depends heavily on who tries to reach me.”

He could hear your slow breaths, and your voice sent tingles up his spine. He loved the way you spoke. He could listen to you talk all night. “So you’d be okay with me sending you messages sometimes then?” You ask with a large smile, and he huffs out smoke before replying. “Anytime,” he replies bluntly.

Write me a novella if you’d like. I’ll be your biggest fan.

He hears you laugh, and the butterflies in his stomach rage. “Why does it sound so windy there?” You ask him curiously, turning on your other side.

“I’m in the rooftop.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Smoking.”

You raised a brow, then your eyes narrow. “Huh, I didn’t know you smoked.” You pout a bit as you said that, and as if he saw it, he purses his lips. “Only when I’m nervous,” he says in defense, biting the cigarette slightly. “Why would you be nervous haha,” you chuckled.

“Hn. You could say you have that effect on me,” he admits honestly, blushing lightly. There was no point lying about that. You also blush at that remark. You didn’t understand the whole meaning of it but it was enough to make you grin like an idiot.

“It was unfortunate that I left without saying bye properly to you… a-and Sage and the rest. I was wondering what souvenir you’d like to have?” You ask, your socked feet rubbing together in anticipation. He’s silent for a moment, staring at his shadow.

“Make it up to me by getting back here safely.” And soon, he thought.

“What, you miss me already?” You teased, and he chuckles.

“Hm. You could say that.” He replies after a bit of silence.

“Admittedly, the whole place seems a lot duller than usual whenever you’re not around. Even Joon-he’s big mouth can’t liven the whole place up.” He adds. He remembered how his heart dropped when he didn’t see you waiting for him when he got back.

“Really? Phoenix not giving you enough headaches to keep you entertained?”

“Oh, plenty. He’s even more annoying today. He took my fucking keychain, that bitch.”

You laugh as he spoke about his best friend, the protocol, the mission, while you told him about your day, the constellations, Jett’s secret stash of kimchi, and everything else under the moon. All your drowsiness left your body as you talked the night away, your conversation lasting for hours. Even if his seat was uncomfortable, he was happy to be on the rooftop just listening to you rant about the randomest things. This is the first time in a while you’ve both talked this deeply. Ever since he realized he liked you, it got hard for him to talk to you this way. Who knew that all it took was for you to make the first move.

As you talked, he noticed that dawn was coming soon, and it was getting early already. He didn’t feel sleepy, but he could hear you yawn every now and then. As much as he wanted to keep talking, he didn’t want to get you too tired.

“You should sleep.” He says, standing up and dusting his pants. He looks at the moon, still bright in the sky. “Yeah, I know,” you yawned, huffing. “How long has it been? 3 hours?” You chuckled, looking at your clock.

“Yeah. Sumanai, I shouldn’t have kept you up too late.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I enjoy talking to you. You were the highlight of my night… and morning I guess.”

“Hm.” He blushed, looking at the moon. It gave him butterflies knowing you were both looking at the same thing, even though you were miles away from each other. “Go to sleep.” He suggests, and out of drowsiness, you nod in response. “Good night Ryo,” you smile, closing your eyes.

He doesn’t drop the call yet, hesitating. “Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I forgot to say something.”

“What is it?”

“Suki da. Oyasumi.”

He then turns the call off, leaving you a bit confused. What did he say? Oh god, he was gonna be so mad if he found out you were too sleepy to understand anything right now. You were gonna have to ask him what the hell he said later, but right now, you needed to sleep.

Yoru on the other hand stared at the sunrise peeking through the clouds. He watched as the sky turned from blue to orange, the ocean waves fiercer than hours before. The wind was cold, but his heart and stomach felt warm and giddy. He doesn’t know whether you heard him or not, but that doesn’t matter.

All that matters is that he meant it.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - My Brother's Best Friend Part 3/4

Summary - Reader rencounters her brother's best friend and the two of them hit it off quite well.

Enjoy!

"What took you so long?" Your dad hissed. "Your mother had to send for Ruben to come and get you."

"I took a quick shower." You lied.

A shower is what you needed though. Arriving at Ruben's family's restaurant with soaking panties was far from ideal. But Ruben made you come twice upon arriving, the second climax leaving you with trembling legs and a pair of soaking underwear. He sat across from you, smirking at the way you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

You rolled your eyes, nudging his leg underneath the table.

"YB/N, pass your sister the chicken wings. You must try them, they are to die for."

"No dad, it's okay." You protested. "I don't eat meat."

"No? Well enjoy the crab legs then. Mrs Dias made a special sauce that she'll have to share with me."

He passed you the tray and you took it, but only to pass it on to Carolina, Rubens sister, who was seated next to you.

"What are you doing." Your dad frowned. "Don't be rude Y/N, try Mrs Dias crab legs."

"Dad." Your tone declared the little patience you had. "I told you I'm a vegan."

"Vegan?" He shifted his head towards your mother. "When was this?"

"Last year honey."

"It was actually three years ago." You corrected. But no suprise that they hadn't rembered.

"It's okay Y/N, I made you the dish you had with Ruben the other day." Mrs Dias caught up on the tension that was unleashing around the table, everyone did. She snapped her fingers at Rubens dad, desperate for him to pass you your tray of food.

"But that's vegetables." Your dad caught a wiff of you food flashing before his eyes, his expression disgusted.

"No dad, it's food, vegan food."

"YB/N, did you know about this?"

"I dunno?" He shrugged.

You brother was too busy nibbling on a piece of chicken to even pay attention to what was unraveling in front of him. Perhaps then he would have come to your defense for once.

"Y/N." Your dad begged. "Just try the chicken wings. You used to love it when your mother made you chicken wings. It's been along time since you had them, maybe you've just lost the taste for it, meat that is?"

"Dad, please." You exhaled, releasing the balled up fist in your lap. "Why can't you just listen to me?" There was somthing fragile in your voice, somthing sorrowful.

"I am listening, querido. And I'm sure if you tried some meat, you'll..."

"Enough!" Ruben began, his voice steady but filled with determination. "Y/N is a vegan and her choice to be vegan should be respected, period. Why is that so hard for you to get?" 

A stunned silence gripped the room as everyone processed Ruben's words. Your parents looked at each other, puzzled by Ruben's outburst.

Your father, who tried to maintain his composure, spoke up, "But it's just a meal, Ruben. Can't she make an exception just for this once?"

Ruben's brows furrowed, and he leaned forward, clasping his hands together on the table. "It's not about just one meal, sir. It's about understanding and supporting the principles that your daughter holds. It's your responsibility to respect that!"

"Ruben!" His mother hissed. Never had she seen him act this way.

Neither had you.

Your mother on the other hand, her face softened as she spoke up tentatively. "We didn't realize how important this was to you Y/N. Your dad and I…we just thought it was a phase you were going through. We didn't realize it was such a conviction."

"Well it's not a phase." Ruben muttered.

"That's enough son." His dad grunted.

"They were practically gonna force her to eat meat, right in front of us. I mean…"

"Ruben, I said that's enough!" His dad stunned everyone by slapping his hand against the table, rattling the cutlery.

You didn't know what to do, or what to say. No one had ever stood up for you like this, something your brother took notice of. He stared you down from across the table, eyebrows furrowed.

"What?" You hissed.

"Are you guys fucking or what?"

"YB/N!" Your mother gasped.

"Alright, so this is getting really out of hand." Carolina chuckled.

Your brother's gaze shifted to Ruben. "Is there something going on between you and my sister?"

Ruben seemed to be held at gunpoint, unable to speak.

"So what if there is, why should you care." You said, perhaps not the best choice of words, but all this nonsense with your parents made you realize the resentment you held towards your family, all of them. It's been digging a hole in your gut for years, however, no more."

"Y/N, are you out of your mind, Ruben is my best friend."

"So, you don't own him do you?"

"Mom, Dad?" Your brother looked to them to make sense of it all, however the two of them were also too stunned to speak. Ruben's mother came forth. "Is this true querido? For how long have you too been …?"

"Not long." You said. "Actually we just…"

"Okay, so I think I've heard enough of this…." Carolina rose from the table, ready to call it a night. "Ruben and Y/N are grown people, I repeat, grown people! Who clearly are into each other. I don't see any problem with that. And for all this vegan bullshit, just get over it already, will you."

"Carolina!" Her mother gasped

"I'm just saying." Carolina shrugged. "Y/N should be free to do whatever she wants and with who she wants." And with the she left the room through the restaurant kitchen

The tension around the table seem to come to its own end. With your parents looking at you with more sympathy and less judgment.

"Honey, I'm sorry, I didn't know how you felt." Your dad reached for your hand. You took it. 

"It's okay."

You mother did the same, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. Your brother on the other hand, just shook his head and rose from the table.

"Fuck this."

"Don't go!" You groaned

It was Ruben who got up from the table and ran after him. The two of them left the restaurant and did not come back.