#dream is a smart cookie

[mahikamihan]

this is literally the type of stuff that design and tech people have been talking about for years, seeing it happen in real time is inspiring, awesome, and kinda badass

(this is from John Maeda's Design in Tech report for SXSW)

[inkskinned]

so while i was writing the book, i became violently suicidal.

this was mostly due to the fact that i had a very bad reaction to some meds and my brain stopped producing any serotonin. also i was in the last semester of grad school where it's actually illegal to feel anything but dread. so it wasn't going well.

somewhere in the fog of it i became aware i needed help. nobody was taking clients or my insurance. i didn't want to do inpatient care - it wasn't right for my needs. there's not really an "in between" stage between "inpatient" and "no care," but i was trying to do the right thing. i was trying to activate the chain of command that was my emergency plan. i knew i needed help now.

i used betterhelp.

i know, i know. i'm a straight-A student and so smart and so clever, how could i ever use something so blatantly bad. to be honest with you, i didn't feel particularly keen on it from the getgo - things that seem too good to be true usually are. also, if something online is free, the price is usually your privacy.

the thing is that there was kind of a global pandemic happening at the time and i worked 5 jobs alongside of being a fulltime student and also like writing a book on the side. it is a miracle that i even thought about getting help. i would love to tell you i had the mental wherewithal to like, process whether this was the right choice for me. mostly i was desperate. i was so suicidal that i was trying to find a reason to stay inside of fortune cookies. i was the kind of suicidal that looks like splatterpaint. i hadn't been that bad in an entire decade.

they took my data. i gave them it freely. somewhere out there, they have a dossier on me. on everything i survived. my story in little datapoints, scattergraphed beautifully.

the first woman told me that really i should be grateful, because (and this is a direct quote): "at least you're not anne frank." i said that i felt that statement was antisemitic, as anne frank's life and experience shouldn't be compared to like, a nonbinary lesbian in western massachusetts. the therapist said that i should try to use lucid dreaming to try to picture myself in an actually scary situation, like running from nazis.

i applied for another therapist. i was willing to accept the possibility that there was a bad apple in the bunch. the next therapist and i even laughed about how inappropriate that statement was. and then, in our next session: the new therapist said if i was struggling with body image issues, i should just work harder on my appearance. she spent 3 sessions in a row talking about how she was grieving, and made me memorize facts about her grandmother so "she can live on through my clients."

i am a three's-a-charm kind of person. okay, so what if the last person made me uncomfortable. i figured it was just a misunderstanding of priorities - she had felt she was sharing with me, i had felt like i had to take care of her. i applied for another therapist.

the last woman asked me to help her pray. she bowed her head. i stared at her, frozen, while she said: lord, i beg you: cure her. take the pain of being gay away from her.

i spent somewhere between 2.5 and 3 months on betterhelp. in that whole time, i was not getting the professional help i so desperately needed, even though i was fucking trying.

in the end, i survived this because i finally could get off the meds that were literally killing me. a request for a real therapist finally went through. i survived because my friends saved my life. because nick let me sob myself dry in his arms. because maddie took the razors out of my room when i asked them to. because grace slept over in my bed for like 3 weeks in a row since nobody trusted me not to hurt myself when i was alone. i survived because i got fucking lucky. because even when i was desperately suicidal, i was too old and too self-aware to take "you need to be prettier" as good advice.

the thing is that there's a 19 year old me who isn't like that. who would have heard "just think about how grateful you should be" and said - oh, i see. i would have assumed that is what it means to be in therapy: the same thing my abusers used to tell me. that i am just pretending and lazy. that i am ugly and unworthy.

betterhelp positioned itself to take advantage of an incredibly vulnerable community. it preys on desperation. it knows it is serving people who are not doing well mentally. it saw that there is a huge need for real, immediate, compassionate mental health care: and then it fucking takes your money and privacy.

i still get their ads on instagram. last night i watched as a woman in a pool pretends to talk to a different woman. they discuss her anxiety.

there's a 19 year old version of me, and she didn't survive this. she was too tired, and drowning. i almost fucking died. this thing almost fucking killed me.

in the ad, the woman playing the therapist takes a note on a clipboard and then nods once, sagely.

i have to admit it's a pretty scene. the steam and light coming off the pool water lands on the actresses. like this, it almost looks baptismal, holy.

[literaila]

midnight happenings

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru wakes up and looks for you

warnings: references to things that none of us will understand (kidding), little angst, mostly fluff, nightmare and such

last part | next part

*

year three

"satoru?" you whisper, blinded briefly by flashing white hair.

your door has been creaked open--like you usually keep it in the dead of the night--but the hallway light is on, illuminating the body in front of you like a ghost. 

you could be dreaming, still, but your head hurts from the sudden interruption, so you know you're not. 

he's like a monster lurking in the dark. waiting for a moment where you're vulnerable before he attacks. he's always been better at patience, remaining in one spot for a millennium, than you have. 

but still, you sit up, because you've never been afraid of him. you blink, trying to recognize his cobalt-aquamarine eyes in the dark. they are still so bright, it's a bit shocking. 

he inches closer, not saying a word. 

there is no smile on his face that you can see. no hint of mischief in his movements. usually, when he creeps into your bed this late, he's looking for something unobtainable. something you know he won't take and you won't give. 

but tonight his eyes are brief matches in the dark, lighting and flickering out, waiting for you to understand. 

and you do. 

"are you okay?" you whisper, not wanting to break the hesitation between you two. you don't know where it goes next, once that bubble pops. your voice is groggy and slightly dry.

"sorry," he responds, the only real answer you need. 

satoru doesn't apologize for anything except his sheer audacity. 

you sit up even further, flicking your light on. 

the both of you flinch at the intrusion of your lamp. but you don't look away from him, brows furrowing. "can't sleep?" you ask, instead. as if it will get you somewhere. 

he shakes his head. 

you watch him for a moment more, long and lanky in your room, his throat bobbing as he swallows. 

then you pat the space next to you, folding your legs underneath your body, trying to remember how to read him this early in the morning. 

satoru doesn't say anything, but he's quick to respond, crawling into bed next to you without a look at you. clearly, he doesn't want you to change your mind on this. 

it's the quickest you've seen him move in a week. 

you watch as he curls himself under the expensive bedsheets--ones he bought--probably scoffing at the color choice internally, but he doesn't look back. 

his eyes are stuck on the duvet like the pattern is going to jump out and attack him. 

you don't have a single thing to say. no question to ask to put the two of you at ease, no witty remark to keep you afloat when satoru seems to be dredging through the water. 

and still.

"you look tired." 

"yeah," he murmurs. 

"did you--" you shake your head. "did you finish the rest of the sesame cookies again? sugar rush?" 

his head lulls over to you, and there's a brief, anxious smile. "of course not," he says. 

"then why are you still awake?" 

"missed you. it's lonely in my room." 

"it's been..." you turn towards the clock. then back. "four hours." 

"too long." 

you smile, slightly, understanding this deflection better than anything else. "you're like the kids," you muse, "coming to cuddle in the middle of the night." 

"smart ones, those two." 

you lean closer to him, eyes falling to his hands, which are raking through the covers like he's going to discover that you've hidden something in them. you can almost see them shake. you swallow. "do you need to talk about something?" 

his eyes dart towards yours. "what? no." 

"okay." 

"do you need to talk about something?" 

you shake your head. "no. i'm good." 

"okay. good." 

you bite your lip as he looks away, focused again on any inanimate object you have in here. the floor, the ceiling, your dresser, or the bouquet he bought you rotting on it. you sit there, watching his hands trail over the sheets, his eyes flick over the walls, his mouth move like there's something stuck inside--something he can't quite say. 

so you do it for him. "i couldn't sleep, either." 

his brow raises. "i heard you snoring from across the hall." 

"i do not snore, satoru, please don't insinuate ridiculous things." 

his lip quirks. 

you sigh, making a show of rolling your eyes. "anyway, i get it. how come it's always so cold in this house?" 

"because you told me that i shouldn't install a different furnace in every room." 

you hum. "could've gone with a fireplace, though. some ambiance. spice this place up a little, you know?" 

"i don't think i'll be taking your interior design advice," satoru answers, looking at you--all of you, finally--his smile a slight thing. 

a hint at the boy you're used to, his frustrating demeanor. 

"another mistake you're making," you tease, smiling back. 

and you watch it--as his face shifts, momentarily, like 0.2 seconds is enough for him to process every emotion that's ever flooded through his body. his eyes dart away, his mouth folds, and satoru goes back in on himself. 

and you know it was the wrong thing to say. 

"hey," you whisper, words coming out before you think about them. "i like it here. even if it is cold." 

"yeah?" 

"yeah. with you and the kids. and this giant bed that serves no purpose for one person." 

"that's why i'm here," he says. 

"oh, of course." 

"have to make sure you're respecting all of the mattress space." 

"well, i wouldn't want the mattress to be unappreciated," you lean your shoulder against his, sighing when his head falls on yours, stepping stones leading to one another. "would i?" 

"you're welcome." 

"very observant, satoru." 

"it's the eyes." 

you laugh hard enough for him to feel it, for your body to shake against his--like it might ground him back to the world. pull him from the water and shake him off.

you don't quite know who this satoru is, because he's not really yours. but he's not the man who could wipe everything out in an instant, if he just wanted a little break. and he's not the man who's dealt with that alone, without any person to help, no one to ask any questions.

maybe he's a child, again. one you never got to meet. 

but it feels a little impossible. 

you swallow, after a moment. then you move your head back, shifting so you can properly look at him. "you sure you don't want to talk about it?" 

satoru looks back, his eyes an expanse of sky and pain, mirroring some parts of you. he doesn't shake his head, doesn't nod. "i..." he whispers, like an answer. 

"was it a nightmare?" 

this time, he nods. 

"i get them, too. sometimes." 

"yeah?" 

"why do you think i end up in tsumiki's bed every couple of nights?" 

"i thought that was a girl thing." 

you smile, leaning to nudge your forehead against his. "nah, tsumiki's just a good cuddler." 

"how 'bout megumi?" 

"please. i think he'd probably dislocate my shoulder in his sleep if i even tried. at least now that you showed him the hand-to-hand stuff i told you not to." 

satoru raises a brow. his eyes are close enough that you can feel his eyelashes fluttering. "everyone needs a little protection from ruthless midnight cuddlers." 

"who's going to protect me from you?" you ask.

this time, you get a full-blown grin. a satoru special, just for you. "no one," he says, "you're stuck with me." 

"don't i know it." 

you tilt your head back, remaining a couple of inches away, but breaking the contact. 

satoru watches. his eyes are so focused on yours, that it feels like some sort of manipulation. 

but you know it's not. 

or, at least, not any sort of manipulation he can control. you've dealt with satoru's sweet eyes and addicting smiles since you were a teenager, and there's no escape. 

"you know," you whisper, blinking rapidly, trying to fall away. "it helps to talk about it. sometimes. remind yourself that it's just a dream, and nothing more." 

satoru looks down, watching your lips as they move. he could be asleep with how still his face is. so unlike the usual expressions you dread to watch, the neverending shifts in behavior. the quirks and quips falling from his horrid mouth. 

"it's not..." he shakes his head, leaning back. "it's not really a dream." 

"what do you mean?" 

"it's--it's always things that have already happened. memories, i guess. it's not a nightmare." 

or maybe it is, goes unspoken. 

"oh." 

"so, i don't think... i mean, i can't wake up from real life, or whatever." 

your body stills. you want to tell him that if he talked about it, it might go away. that his memories are pushed so far back that they're intruding on reality. that he needs to let it go, let the past fade like a scar. still there, but unburdening. 

but you know that satoru won't listen. if you know anything about the man--anything from the seven years that you've spent with him, watching him react to the constant battle of living--it's that. 

he's not going to listen to you. he never does. and you shouldn't expect him to. not when he knows that you can't understand, that you never really will. 

still, the words rest on the tip of your tongue, like a dagger ready for the plunge. 

"it's okay, though," satoru shrugs, suddenly. brushing his entire existence off as if it's removable. "it's fine." 

"it's okay if it's not." 

he blinks. "i know," he says, almost defensively. "but it is." 

"okay." 

satoru swallows, his fingertips brushing on the bare skin of your leg. you haven't been this close to him for a couple of months, since he stopped coercing you into staying the night. it's strange, the environment of the two of you. an inadaptable habitat. 

"sorry," he whispers. 

"it's okay. it's fine." 

"okay." 

"i have nightmares about megumi a lot," you say, short. "he's always doing something stupid. something you would do." 

satoru tilts his head. "like what?" 

you roll your eyes. "forgetting to turn off the stove and setting us all on fire. drinking out of the milk carton. or bringing home a curse just because." 

"i only did that once. i wanted your opinion on something." 

"'do you think it's eyes are green or brown? maybe hazel?'" you mock, shaking your head. 

"it was a dire question," his lip quirks. 

you shake your head some more. "but when i wake up i always remember that megumi isn't stupid like you. he thinks things through." 

"hey," satoru chides, but he doesn't really care. 

"and sometimes," you say, again, even softer. "i have dreams about you. about you doing something stupid, like always, but..." 

the rest goes unsaid. it's not an idea that needs to be verbalized. not a belief you hold in the pit of your heart, a fear you've experienced too many times. 

satoru leans closer to you. "i know," he says, instead of an apology, or some type of comfort. "i get those too." 

so you wrap your arms around his shoulders, almost unconsciously, leaning in as you let satoru hold you up for a moment. like he's done all of those other late nights. you hug him close, unsure if you'll ever really break the distance between the two of you. 

but you can feel it as satoru's arms wrap around your waist, squeezing with you, differently than he usually does. his breath is soft against your head, a break in the dark. 

"i know," you whisper to him, an echo, and it should be enough. 

but you're not sure that it--that this, the proximity between the two of you--will ever be enough. 

that thought fades into the night, though, like every other sleep-deprived whisper you've shared with satoru. it won't be worth it to bring it up again in the morning. so you won't, and neither will he. 

but you'll hold him now. like a promise you can keep. 

*

when you wake up in the morning, your fingers are curled around satoru’s.

every part of you feels achy. like just being this close to him has infected you with another disease—some curse you won’t be able to shake off.

and you only realize this when two heads are standing above you, watching you closely.

“are you awake?” tsumiki asks you, like your eyes are not an indication of anything.

“doesnt that hurt?” megumi frowns, immediately after. “gojo is heavy.”

he’s referencing the man that’s partly on top of you, his mouth leaving a sure mark on the skin of your neck, breath hot and wet.

you blink rapidly, trying not to flush under the feeling of him there (literally under).

“you guys hungry?” you say, wincing at the sound of your own voice.

they both nod.

“okay, just—“ you sigh, hands raking through satoru’s hair. “gimme a minute to wake him up. go get your backpacks and i’ll make breakfast.”

tsumiki nods and steps back. megumi’s brows furrow at you. “we have to leave in thirty minutes.”

you roll your eyes. “i know, megs. i’m up.”

he shakes his head. “not you,” he nods. “don’t crush her. i have school.” he tells satoru, sternly, and then walks away, dragging tsumiki along and out of the room.

satoru, who’s eyes are wide and open, so close to yours that they are almost nothing.

“hey,” he whispers, grinning.

*

next part | series masterlist

a/n: for all of you that think i hate satoru, he's my baby

[jeonride]

jeon wonwoo reading list part 2 !

navigation

FICS ! ✧*。

Trust Me, My Love (smut, established relationship, hard dom!wonwoo) by @multi-kpop-fanfics

5-STAR (fluff, smut, idol!au) by @fvllingflower

Homewrecked (fluff, smut) by@ncteez

A Private Session (smut, gym trainer!woo) by @sluttyminghao

The Smart Thing (smut) by @gguksgalaxy

Desperate (smut, husband!wonwoo) by @toruro

FVCK ABOUT IT (smut, fwb to lovers) by @fvllingflower

Right Where You Left Me (exes to lovers) by @tonicandjins

Chocolate Rum Cookies (fluff, fwb) by @wonwoonlight

Moonlight Sunrise (fluff, smut) by @fvllingflower

Meet Cute of The Century (fluff, smut) by @lovelyhan

Blame Me (smut) by @fvllingflower

For The Books (fluff, teacher!wonwoo) by @trblsvt

When The Sun Kisses The Moon (atla!au, fluff, angst, firebender!woo) by @twogyuu

Tell Me (smut, college au) by @/fvllingflower

My Way To You The Series (fluff, smut) by @wonwoonlight

Falling for Him The Series (fluff, smut) by @ksyongi

The Regular (fluff, bakery! au) by @trblsvt

By The Moon (fluff, hurt, werewolf!wonwoo) by @wonwoonlight

Sh**ting Stars (fluff) by @tonicandjins

Redo (fluff) by @bitterie-sweetie

Love or Letter (fluff, bestfriends to lovers) by @wooawrites

Wanna Be Yours (fluff, angst, humor) @viastro

When The Moon Shines (fluff, siren!wonwoo) by @skyjoong

Infinity (vampire!wonwoo) by @blue-jisungs

Hit Me Up (fluff, college au) by @nneogram

Leaf Me Alone (fluff, mild angst) by @playmetheclassics

DRABBLES / SCENARIOS ! ✧*。

wonwoo and his kinks headcanon (by @sluttywonwoo)

daddy sugar!wonwoo (smut) by @multi-kpop-fanfics

somnophilia with wonwoo (smut, fluff) by @sluttywonwoo

tasty (smut) by @playmetheclassics

dream (smut, making out) by @juyeoniemyhoney

you only call me on the (smut, aftercare) by @fvllingflower

cuffed (kinda sub!wonwoo, smut) by @playmetheclassics

06.17 (fluff, established relationship) by @wonwoonlight

sniffles, kisses, and soup (fluff) by @celestiababie

your smile (fluff) by @babyleostuff

sunday morning (fluff) by @lee-aveyourmark

aftercare headcanon (nsfw, fluff) by @celestiababie

photographer!wonwoo (filthy, iykyk) by @sluttyminghao

choking (smut) by @sluttyminghao

riding him while he's reading a book (smut) from here until "him begging" are made by @sluttywonwoo

eating you out with his new haircut (smut)

makes you cum hard but doesn't ask anything in return, he knows u're tired (smut)

switch!wonwoo (smut)

cockwarming gamer bf!wonwoo (fluff but filthy asf) another ver (with mouth)

him begging (smut) another begging (another one again, i swear)

slytherin!wonwoo (smut) from here until "switch!wonwoo" are made by @multi-kpop-fanfics

him seeing you after shower (smut) from here until "him being gentle with you" are made by @sluttywonwoo

him covering your mouth (smut)

cumming in his pants just from kissing

12.23 am (smut)

relaxing bath (fluff)

he'll hold your hand in any position (smut)

him cumming inside you (smut)

foggy glasses (smut, fluff)

him being gentle with you (smut)

squirting (smut) by @cvpitvno

wonwoo boyfriend headcanon (fluff) by @sweetkpopmusings

reassurance (smut, fluff) by @ssentimentals

him put you in doggy (smut) from here until "him found out you like his hands" are made by @sluttyminghao

him found out you like his hands (fluff)

asking wonwoo to wear his glasses on during sex (fluff, smut) by @sluttywonwoo

you have a nightmare (fluff, comfort) by @wqnwoos

umbrella (fluff, comfort) by @darl-ings

[oofthwoods]

── ˙ ̟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐎 !!

🎙️ they're talking to themselves, they're talking to her echo. | chronological order.

ᯓ★ meet the driver :: introduction | twenty-three grid | works in progress list | headcanon tag

˒ ⌕ — childhood

ᯓ★ "it takes a paddock" mini series. :: small works about echo!reader childhood in the paddock.

the brawn gp garage grand prix ⥅ jenson button had always been a great commentator, especially when it came to narrating the wild world of imaginary races, where the only challenger was none other than the daughter of his teammate.

˒ ⌕ — junior career

ᯓ★ vicious :: arthur leclerc likes a certain type of woman: smart, neglects intuition, and not as good as him.

˒ ⌕ — formula one

ᯓ★ the rookie season :: works about echo!reader's first year as a formula one driver.

ᯓ★ midnight baker :: fem!driver is known to stress bake, and when she can't sleep the night before the first day of her first ever formula one grand prix, she goes a little overboard with the chocolate chip cookies.

ᯓ★ cookie run :: echo!reader knew she went overboard with the cookies when she had to sneak into mick's room to use his oven. now, it's time to hand out the sweets around the paddock, after all, the way to everyone's heart is through their stomach.

ᯓ★ debutante :: derived from the french language, meaning “a first performance or showing.” the original word debutante referred to a new actress making her first appearance on the stage. or, the one where dreams come true in bahrain.

©️ oofthwoods — 2024.

[sometimesanalice]

In a Place Just Right

Summary: It's your first year hosting Thanksgiving in San Diego for the Daggers and Bradley can tell you're a little nervous about it. But he already knows it's going to be one for the books, because any holiday spent with you better than anything he could have imagined.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5K

Warnings: fluff and allusions to smut (minors dni)

(author's note: this fic is set in the 'Like I Can Universe', but can be read on it's own! Happy Thanksgiving, friends!)

For the last six years Penny has been the one to host Daggersgiving, but this year hostess duties had fallen on your plate. Needless to say, Bradley knew you were more than a little stressed about it.

When you had asked him about his opinion on the merits of canned cranberry sauce versus homemade he’d blinked at you a few times before asking, “Is this a thing people care about?”

He’ll never forget how adorably aghast you looked to learn that he had no preference on the matter. And maybe if you had asked him when the sun was up instead of at 3 AM he might have known better than to give you such a noncommittal answer.

“Both, we’ll have both,” you’d stated resolutely.

“Whatever you want, kid," he’d murmured as he’d pulled you to his chest and wrapped an arm around your stomach. His smart and beautiful wife. "Now go back to sleep, you’re supposed to be dreaming of sugarplums not cranberries."

“Wrong holiday, Bradley,” you’d sighed contentedly, relaxing against him. And it hadn’t taken you long to fall back asleep with that cranberry crisis having been averted.

But now people were due to show up in less than an hour and you are frantically fluttering and huffing around the kitchen like a madwoman in a very pretty green dress, "I knew that quickie was a bad idea. You're never quick, Bradley."

He’d been away and missed many holidays over the years due to his career.

Your mom had always made it clear that he had an open invitation to join in whatever merry festivities were happening with your family, but more often than not it rarely aligned with him being stationed all over the world. But he’d always been happy to get to have a phone call with you and eat the homemade cookies you’d sent him on those years spent apart.

But now Bradley got to look forward to spending every holiday with you in the home you shared with him.

Over the last week the house had slowly but surely transformed into something that was straight out of a magazine.

There was a display of pumpkins, ribbons, and a garland of strung dried orange slices that decorated the fireplace. And overpriced candles from your favorite store flickered cheerfully on every surface that wasn’t a fire hazard to a bunch of enthusiastic Naval aviators. The dining table was dressed up to the nines and everyone spot with their names painstakingly written in your pretty script on a place card sitting in a pinecone.

You had even made some oversized confetti in the shape of oak leaves out of some old books, the copy of ‘Why Men Love Bitches’ that Nat had given him years ago as a joke was finally repurposed and recycled into something more festive over where the beverages had been set up.

The whole house smells amazing. Warm cinnamons and nutmegs mixing with bright citrus and rich vanillas. The kitchen island and countertops were filled with various plates and platters and bowls of dips, charcuterie, fruit and vegetables, nuts, and other savories. All the other dishes were being kept warm in the ovens for when everyone arrived and was ready to settle around the dining table for dinner.

Bradley was positive that no one would leave feeling hungry. He also wasn’t entirely sure where the things his friends are bringing were going to go, but there were worse problems to have.

Penny had taken Amelia with her to visit her family on the East Coast. They’d decided it would probably be better for Mav to hang back in San Diego for the holiday, those tensions with her dad were still a bit strained even though they’d been married for almost four years now.

Which is how the Bradshaw’s were hosting their first Thanksgiving for everyone.

This morning had been organized chaos. Some of the last minute-things had only managed to be checked off with the assistance of strong coffee and a good playlist.

However, he’d still managed to sneak in the opportunity to spin you around the kitchen to your wedding song when it came up on shuffle. After all the cranberries were still popping and boiling down; there was time for it, he'd always make time for it.

But that was then.

Now, you are glaring at him like you’d been personally victimized by him and his cock.

“You complaining, sweet girl?” he asks with a smirk, leaning his hip against the kitchen island watching as you briskly stir the gravy heating up in the copper sauce pot on the stove. “Don’t think that’s what I was hearing thirty minutes ago when we had that pretty green dress of yours bunched around your hips. Sounded something like ‘more, Bradley, more’ to me.”

You shoot him a look that would make a weaker man wither, but he’s built up an immunity to it over a lifetime of having it directed at him.

“I think that’s quite enough out of you,” you reprimand, but he sees the amusement in your eyes even as you fight to keep the annoyed façade on your face. “We’re behind schedule now. I thought I buffered in enough time, just in case-”

“Just in case you begged me to give you an orgasm to, and I quote, ‘help me chill out’?”

“I was kidding,” you say, stopping your agitated whisking to go fluff the stuffing instead.

“All I’m saying is that if my beautiful wife is begging for me, I’m certainly not going to say no. I’m only human,” he says with an all too pleased shrug.

Bradley grabs the can opener and works on opening the canned cranberry sauce. He reaches for a couple plates, holding them up for your approval and you point to the one on the right. The scalloped white one with gold rim it'll be.

“For the record, I certainly did not beg,” you say primly, glowering into the homemade stuffing that you’d had him get the bread from the nice bakery across town for.

“Sure, sure,” he drawls, the smirk growing wider on his face as he sets to freeing the jelly from its rippled container.

He knows he shouldn’t tease you right now, but you’re so cute when you get huffy that he can’t help himself. He’s known that petulant raise of your chin his whole life. And sometimes when he looks at you he can so clearly see the little girl he’d been forced to entertain for hours when your moms were hanging out.

You went from being his favorite nuisance to his best friend to his everything.

“Do I still look ok? Or do I need to do a quick refresh before everyone gets here?” you ask. You turn to fully face him, tilting your head one way and then another for his inspection.

He would happily stare at you all day if you’d let him. He loves your pretty eyes and what you’ve done with your hair.

“You’re beautiful,” he grins, “And if anyone asks, we can just say you’re flushed from all the cooking.”

“Bradley,” you whine setting down your wooden spoon down on the counter with a sharp thwack.

“Ok, ok. I’m done, I promise,” he says putting his hands up in surrender with a chuckle.

He pushes off the counter and grabs a glass off of one of the floating shelves and fills it with some ice water.

“Good,” you tut haughtily, as you fiddle with the white and orange striped kitchen towel hanging on the oven door, “I was about to threaten to make you sleep on the couch tonight.”

“You wouldn’t.” Even the thought of it makes his stomach feel unsettled.

After nearly two decades of hard beds on foreign bases and on lumpy carrier mattresses, he’s never slept as well as he did since the two of you found your way to each other.

His peace was found under a fluffy green duvet on a wooden canopy bed with you tucked under his arm.

“No. No, I wouldn’t,” you agree, leaning in to place a soft kiss to his cheek in thanks when he presses the cold glass into your hands.

Bradley tugs you away from the warm stove and you reluctantly follow and sit on the barstool he’s pulled out for you on the other side of the kitchen island.

He runs his hand up and down your back comfortingly as you take a few sips, “We’re in a great place, sweet girl.”

“Mhm, yeah. Sure, of course.” You couldn’t sound less unsure if you tried. “It’s just… I’m nervous about the mushroom and leeks bread pudding. I’ve never made it before. And what if we run out of wine?”

“What’s been our motto?” he asks, taking over the helm at the stove whisking the gravy together as it begins to thicken.

“‘In Ina we trust’,” you say with a serious nod of your head. 

“Atta girl, we sure do. And Nat said she’s is bringing a few bottles she picked up from when she went to Napa, the good shit. It’s going to be great. Trust me,” he says giving you a warm smile. “Will it make you feel better to go over everything again?”

“Yes, please,” you say, anxiously drumming your fingers along the side of your water glass.

He’d stepped up where he could like making sure the house was pristine and cleaning up the yard by blowing off the wrinkled remainders of the yellow Tipuana flowers. He’d even been able to source and rent some more chairs to make sure that everyone would have a seat at the table.

Bradley wasn’t a schlump in the kitchen. He knew his way around a cookbook and a stove. His knife skills were pretty damn good too, if he did say so himself. But he also knew when somethings were out of his wheelhouse. So he’d taken to being your sous chef, and had taken to washing and prepping the ingredients for you so that all you had to do was toss them in whatever shiny pot they were destined for.

He even made his mom’s favorite pie. It had been years since he's had it, and he was excited to share it with everyone.

Your mom had mailed the copy of the original recipe she had that was written in Carole’s rounded, flourished script. You had made a photocopy of it to use so that the original didn’t get ruined, and then pointed out a spot on the wall where you said you’d thought it would look nice in a frame hanging in the kitchen. And he'd fallen a little more in love with you.

“Ok, hit me with it,” he says turning the heat to low for the gravy and putting the lid on.

This was a partnership through and through, he was going to give you all the support you needed.

“The turkey?”

Bradley picks up the fancy digital meat thermometer he’d bought for the occasion to check, “Big Bird has an hour and twenty more minutes to work on his tan and then he’ll rest for another thirty. Giving people time to graze and mingle and get some drinks in them, just like you wanted.”

You nod and hum contemplatively, “I’ve been thinking we need a salad. I don’t feel like we have enough vegetable options.”

He knows better than to point out that you’re currently snacking on snap peas from not one, but three, of the veggie platters the two of you had put together the night before.

“We’ve got the crispy brussels sprouts, the garlic and hazelnut green beans, and the honey glazed carrots with lemon. We’re more than fine on the fiber and beta-carotene. Michelle Obama would be proud, kid.”

That gets a little laugh from you.

“Well, as long as you think Michelle would be happy than we’re probably fine,” you say with a smile around your water glass that tells him you know exactly what he’s doing invoking your favorite First Lady.

“What else are you thinking about?” Bradley asks peering in the lower of their double ovens, where foiled covered dishes are lined up in perfect symmetry are warming away having been prepared in advance.

“Do you think two bags of rolls will be enough? Or should I text Mav and ask him to grab one more?”

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes dip down to his ass in his gray slacks. So he might linger as second longer than necessary to let you enjoy the view, since it’s for the female gaze and all.

He’s never understood wearing the most restrictive clothing on the holiday that involves the most eating, but that was Penny’s tradition to have everyone dressed in their nicest and you had insisted on keeping it going even if she was on the other side of the country.

You’d teased him earlier when you’d seen him emerge from the bedroom wearing the short-sleeved green cashmere polo you’d gotten him a couple years ago. It fit a little more snug that he remembered it, but he thought he still pulled it off well.

“When did we become the couple that matches?” you’d asked gesturing to your dress as you gave him an appreciative onceover.

If the past was anything to go off of, you would be running your hands over the soft material covering his chest and back all night.

“I just like reminding people who I belong with, sweet girl.”

He might have had something else in mind to wear for the evening before he saw you in that dress, had ironed the shirt the night before and everything, but last-minute pivot it was well worth it when you looked at him like that.

When he stands back up, he gives you knowing wink.

And in return you throw a baby carrot at him with a laugh.

Bradley isn’t surprised in the least to hear the quick clack-clack-clack of nails on the wood floors as their fluffy black and white Portuguese Water Dog rounds the corner. Having been summoned by the sound of food hitting the floor from where he had been dozing near the fireplace in the living room.

The carrot is gone in an instant and he comes to sit at Bradley's feet by the stove, looking up at him from under his curly eyebrows clearly hoping he'll get another snack.

“Nah, bud. You’re barking up the wrong tree over here,” he says leaning down to scratch his floppy ears.

“Ah, come here, Duck,” you croon, calling him over to your side of the island. “He’s so mean for a man who claimed he just saw God not too long ago, isn’t he?”

Bradley snorts and shakes his head at you amused.

He still doesn’t know how he ended up with a dog named Duck.

At the dog park, more often than not people mistook it for ‘Buck’. And you were usually off to the side more than happy to let him take the lead, biting your lip to keep from laughing at his less than enthusiastic expression when he’d have to warily explain yet again It’s Duck like quack.

You’re not even subtle about the piece of cheese you pull from the charcuterie board to feed him.

“I saw that,” he says, giving you a pointed lift of his eyebrow, “You know Bob is going to be spoiling him all night.”

“It was just a little piece of cheese. Plus, I don’t know who you think you’re fooling. I saw you go over there and deliver him his own little veggie platter with some of the leftovers we had while I was making the apple cider sangria.”

“That’s different, that’s good for him,” he says rounding the island, reaching over and snagging his own slice of cheese to snack on.

“And cheese is a protein. He’s just a baby, Bradley, what am I supposed to do? Not give him a piece of swiss?” You slide off your chair to squat down and rub Duck’s belly, you’ve always been his favorite.

“He’s almost five,” he replies flatly.

“A youth!” you exclaim, “He’s a growing boy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bradley says affectionately with a little roll of his eyes. He knows a losing battle when he sees one.

He offers you his hand to help you stand back up, but you wave him off and pull yourself up using the edge of the island. You take a moment to readjust your dress before making your way to the sink by the big windows that look out into the backyard.

“Speaking of Bob, do you know if he’s bringing his fiancée?” you ask from over your shoulder as you wash your hands.

“Not this time, sweetheart. I guess she volunteered to cover a shift in the NICU when she heard they were short staffed.”

“Oh that’s too bad, I was excited to see her ring in person,” you say drying off your hands and heading to the pantry.

“It’s all he can talk about at work. I guess they’re thinking about a Spring wedding next year. They don’t want to wait too long to get married.”

“I’m so happy for them,” you say, digging around for a moment and then emerge with a stack of some sturdy plastic plates and set them on the last free spot on the countertop. “Don’t let me forget to make them up a couple plates that he can bring home for her, before Fanboy declares it time for ‘second dinner’ and eats all the yams like he did last year.”

“I won’t forget, promise,” he says fondly.

If you were facing him, he knows you’d probably tease him for the look on his face and just how gone he is for you.

You’ve always been so generous, it’s one of the things that he loves most about you.

You were always good about hustling him out of his well-earned money from is part time job scooping ice cream in high school, like with the fundraiser you did for the local soup kitchen and the one for the elementary school summer arts program.

He’s always been wrapped around your finger, it just took him awhile to realize why.

It’s the same reason why there’s been a donation that comes out of his bank account every month for the last five years for one of the San Diego animal shelters.

Bradley had made a rather sizable donation and then set up a smaller reoccurring monthly one after the chaos that was the time Bob had set you up with his friend who worked at the shelter, back before the two of you had gotten together.

Even after all these years, he still can’t help but get a little irritated every time he sees that guy’s face in the monthly newsletter that comes to his email. He’s pretty sure Casey still might have a little crush on you, but Bradley can’t blame him. He’d have a hard time getting over you too, so it’s a good thing he’ll never have to.

On newsletter day, Bradley always finds himself giving Duck extra treats.

You are his wife. And Duck is his dog. Ridiculous name and all.

He couldn’t wait to surprise you with the golden tennis ball that the shelter sends out as a thank you after a decade of donations.

Only five more years to go.

You’re over by the bar that’s been set up off to the side, straightening the already very straight rows of gleaming wine glasses when he hears you suck in a sharp gasp.

Bradley drops the dish cloth he had in his hands as he attempted to give what little counter space there was left a final wipe down and is in front of you in half a heartbeat. Was there a fluke with some faulty stemware? Are you bleeding? There’s a reason Thanksgiving is one of the busiest days at the hospital.

“The butter!” you cry out as you whirl around, your pretty eyes welling up with tears, “I let you fuck me and I forgot to pull the butter from the fridge. It’s going to be too hard for people to spread now!”

He knows it’s more than just hosting jitters that’s got you like this, but it still catches him by surprise sometimes.

“Woah, woah,” he says as he catches you on the way to the fridge and pulls you to his chest, “C’mere, my sweet girl.”

You make a distressed noise but allow him to keep his hold on you, “But the butter…”

“I already pulled the butter, see?” He points to the sticks that are already softening away on the counter. “Will you take a couple slow breaths for me, please? This place looks and smells amazing. We did good, baby.”

Bradley feels the moment your body relaxes into him.

He presses a kiss to the side of your temple as he smooths his hands down your soft, pretty green velvet dress and the warm, firm curve of your rounded stomach soothingly.

“Ugh, I’m sorry. It’s the hormones,” you sigh, as you lean your head back against his shoulder.

He hums empathically as he sways gently side to side with you in his arms.

“I would like to go on the record saying that I like pregnancy hormones, especially the ones from earlier,” he jokes lightly.

“That makes one of us,” you say with a watery laugh, “Just wait until I am waking you up at 4 AM because I am craving something from a drive-thru that’s not open.”

“Mm, can’t wait,” he murmurs before dropping a few kisses along the soft line of your jaw.

Bradley still can’t believe he gets to be this lucky in life.

He doesn’t want to forget a single moment of this. With you, with his family.

“We did a really good job with this one,” he whispers into your ear, still stroking your stomach, not wanted to disturb the magic in the domesticity.

“We really did, da--” Bradley groans and cuts you off with a kiss. He can feel the impish smile plastered on your lips as he kisses you. His favorite menace.

He knows you’re pretty sure it was the spontaneous hook up in the storage closet at the Hard Deck on the Fourth of July that’s responsible for the noticeable bump you’re sporting. Call him a romantic, but he likes to think it was that night in the Bronco overlooking the ocean when he’d taken the long way back home.   

You pull away all too soon for his liking to grab his left hand. He sees the flash of the two diamonds on your engagement ring, one from his mom and one from yours, as you take it and press it to a spot near your bellybutton.

The feeling of the fluttering under his palm will never get old. He’s not too proud to say he’d shed a tear or two the first time he’d felt it.

Bradley lets himself bask in this moment as he two of you stand there in the kitchen of your dream house.

There are a few pops from the wood in the fireplace, the refrigerator is humming away in the background, and he can just hear the sounds of a melodic piano from the playlist he queued up earlier playing over the speaker.

Of all the delicious scents that waft through the house, the smell the floral and musk notes in you perfume is still his favorite.

There are times in the soft quiet of night, usually when you are asleep and his mind won’t quite settle, that he sometimes thinks he was put on this Earth to hold you.

It’s the only reason he can think of that explains why you fit so perfectly against his body.

Why his palms can fit so perfectly over your rounded stomach.

Why it’s his hands that you have trusted to protect your heart.

And he’s still holding you in the warmth of the kitchen when he hears the front door open.

Bradley knows he’s going to have to play host soon and he just wants to keep you in his arms for just a little longer.

“Hey kids, I brought the turkey,” Mav calls out from the entry.

You spin in his arms, looking at him wide eyed and confused as you two exchange a look. He presses one last kiss to your cheek before letting you go.

“Thought you were going to bring the rolls, Mav,” Bradley calls out just in time to see him round the corner.

Pete stands there proudly grinning holding a few bags of bakery rolls in one hand and a turkey in the other.

The sound of your delighted laughter makes his heart swell in his chest as he takes in the sight.

“Cooper Mitchell Ford Bradshaw, you are without a doubt the cutest turkey I have ever seen,” you gush as you go to greet Mav with a warm hug and a kiss on his cheek. Your son’s chubby arms reaching out for you.

Mav has dressed your almost two-year-old son in a soft, plush turkey costume that is complete with tailfeathers and a beak. He’s clearly a fan of the outfit too because he is grinning widely, showing of the more of the baby teeth that have come in over the last few months.

Mav had swung by early this morning to take him off your hands to get ready for Daggersgiving without chasing an almost-toddler around. While it was nice to have some time just the two of you while you got the place in order and took care of the last-minute things, like that homemade cranberry sauce, but he’d missed not having his son around.

The sweet sound of Cooper’s giggles and your coos fill up the kitchen as he watches you pepper his face with kisses. You bounce him a little and do a little spin, making the little boy laugh even more. The two of you in your own little bubble.

“You doin’ ok over there, kid?” Mav asks, a soft grin on his face as he sets the rolls on the counter to pull him in for a hug.

The two men had made their way back to each other over the last few years, just another thing that Bradley was grateful for in his life. The man had always been his father in everything but name. That is until he’d seen the man who raised him hold his son for the first time.

“Yeah, Dad,” Bradley says, clearing his throat a bit, “Everything’s perfect.”

From there it’s a flurry of activity as people start to arrive.

Nat comes with her longtime girlfriend and the extra bottles of the fancy Napa wine she promised to bring. Only handing it over once he promised to give her the name of the contractor the two of you had worked with and the exact shade of green that was used on the lower cabinets during your kitchen renovation.

Payback and Fanboy and their wives show up wearing oversized turkey hats on their heads each carrying a bakery box of pie.

Bradley isn’t surprised when Duck ditches the attention that Coyote was giving him the second Bob shows up with the famous Floyd family scalloped potatoes. Bob has always been a sucker for a pair of puppy dog eyes.

And in between checking on people’s glasses, swapping out empty appetizer trays for fuller ones, and making sure Jake doesn’t tamper with his perfectly cooked turkey, he’s got his eyes trained on you.

There are no words for the pride and love that washes over him every time he looks over and sees you with his son propped up on your hip and the way your pretty dress stretches around your growing family.

He had missed this stage of your pregnancy when he was deployed and you were pregnant with Cooper. He was determined to savor every second of this one. Every butter related freak out and every late-night milkshake run.

Being in his house surrounded with all the people he loves, minus a couple who are here in spirit, isn’t something he could ever take for granted. It’s more blessings than he ever hoped to receive in this lifetime.

You look over your shoulder at him and everything about the way you’re looking at him is picture perfect.

Your smile sunshine gold and just for him as you hold his gaze for a moment as time ticks on around the two of you. You send him a little wink before turning back to Mav who has his phone held up for a FaceTime call with Penny and Amelia.

Bradley sees his son peek his head up from where it had been nestled into your neck. Cooper grins when he sees him, his tiny hand reaching out for his dad. For him.

As he makes his way over to the two of you with his heart full, he makes a mental note to ask Mav later where he got that costume. He’s already planning on running out tomorrow to see if they have any more in stock now that it seems they have a new Bradshaw tradition on their hands.

He’s going to have three little turkeys running around this time next year and he couldn’t wait.

Cooper and him were going to be outnumbered soon.

The two of you had found out earlier in the month that Everly Caroline Bradshaw and Olivia Saylor Bradshaw were going to be the newest members to join your little family.

His girls.

It was an announcement the two of you were excited to share later tonight with everyone else when the slices of pies were being passed around.

He scoops up Cooper from you with one arm, dropping a kiss onto his little boy’s perfect curls as his small fist clutches as the soft fabric of his shirt. And then Bradley kisses the crown of your head as he wraps his other arm around you, his thumb stroking the swell of your belly.

With you- because of you- he gets to have it all.

The wife. The family. The house. The dog. The life. The dream.

He’s right where he wants to be.

He’s right where he’s supposed to be.

Happy Thanksgiving! This was such a joy to write, thank you for reading!

It might not be Carole Bradshaw's famous pie, but it's one of my favorites! And who better to share it with than you! Cranberry-Lime Pie

If you haven't read the 'Like I Can' series you can read it here!

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[tarotwithavi]

Your future spouse: personality

Positive and challenging sides

How to choose a pile?

Take a deep breath and gently close your eyes. Politely request your spirit guides to reveal the appropriate pile meant for you, then open your eyes. Whichever pile captures your attention is the one meant for you.

Masterlist

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Pile 1

Positive side : hello pile 1! Your future spouse is one smart cookie. They've got an insatiable curiosity that makes them a total brainiac. You'll often find them diving deep into complex ideas and theories, always hungry for knowledge. They've got this knack for seeing patterns and connections that others don't even notice. When you're stuck on a problem, just turn to them for some mind-blowing insights. Creativity runs through their veins. They've got a knack for coming up with innovative, out-of-the-box ideas. No boring solutions here! They're the kind of person who can turn the simplest of conversations into an exciting adventure of thoughts and possibilities. Their independent spirit is pretty inspiring too. They're comfortable doing their own thing, which gives them a unique sense of self-reliance. Fairness and objectivity are their jams. Emotions don't cloud their judgment; they rely on cool, logical thinking to make decisions. And when it comes to tackling tough problems, they're like Sherlock Holmes with a touch of MacGyver – they'll find a solution, no matter how tricky the puzzle. They seem to have more air energy, especially Gemini and Aquarius. They may have their Mercury in the 11th house.

Challenging side : Okay, so your future spouse might be a bit of an introvert. Social interactions aren't always their strong suit, especially when it comes to small talk. They're more like deep-thought conversations rather than chit-chat about the weather. And speaking of deep thoughts, they tend to overthink stuff. Simple decisions can turn into complicated quandaries in their minds. Practicality isn't their strong suit either. They've got a knack for brilliant ideas, but sometimes turning those ideas into reality can be a bit of a challenge. Routine? Yeah, not their thing. They get bored quickly with repetitive tasks and might struggle with focusing on the same thing for too long. Oh, and sometimes they can be like Mr. Spock – super logical, but not always the most sensitive. Emotions might not be their strong suit, and they might come across as a tad insensitive from time to time. And when they've made up their mind, it's like they've superglued their opinion in place. Changing their perspective? Good luck with that.

Pile 2

Positive side : welcome pile 2! I'm getting that Your future spouse is the kind of person who's always dreaming big and aiming for the stars. They have this incredible ability to come up with the most creative and imaginative ideas that you've ever heard. Whether it's art, music, or just day-to-day conversations, they infuse everything with their unique touch of creativity. You can count on them to be that empathetic and understanding partner you've always wanted. They really get you, and their genuine care and compassion make you feel truly seen and loved. Their open-mindedness is a breath of fresh air, and you can talk to them about anything without fearing judgment. Their unwavering commitment to their values is truly inspiring; you'll never find them compromising on what they hold dear. And when it comes to those times when you need a friend to lean on, they'll be there, providing unwavering support and a listening ear. Their flexibility and adaptability make navigating life's twists and turns an exciting adventure. They have heavy water energy especially cancer and Pisces. They may have personal planets in 4th, 8th or 12th house.

Challenging side : But, you know, your future spouse does have their moments. Their idealism, as charming as it is, sometimes takes them to places that feel a bit too far from reality. There might be times when their sensitivity comes across as a bit of an overreaction, leaving you wondering how to tread carefully. They're not the biggest fans of confrontation, which can be a good thing most of the time, but it also means that addressing certain issues directly might not be their strong suit. Oh, and the decision-making process? Well, let's just say it's not the quickest. Sometimes you'll be caught in a loop of considering pros and cons, which can be a tad frustrating when you just want a clear answer. And criticism? Yeah, that's a tough one. Your future spouse might struggle a bit with handling negative feedback; it's like they take it to heart a bit too much. There could be moments when they retreat into their own world, leaving you feeling a bit disconnected. But hey, remember, nobody's perfect, right? All these quirks just make them who they are.

Pile 3

Positive side : Alright, so your future spouse is a pretty cool cat. They're like a master strategist, always thinking five steps ahead in whatever they do. You can bet on them to come up with some seriously genius plans that nobody else saw coming. They've got this natural gift for analyzing stuff – they can see the big picture and all the tiny details, which makes them freakishly good at problem-solving. They are really smart. They have this insatiable thirst for knowledge, and they're not afraid to dive deep into topics that fascinate them. And trust me, their ability to think critically is off the charts. They're not just about book smarts, though. They've got this quirky sense of humor that might catch you off guard, and you'll find yourself laughing at their witty remarks. They're super independent and have this unshakeable confidence. They won't hesitate to tackle challenges head-on, even if it means going against the crowd. Their determination is downright inspiring. Plus, when they decide to share their thoughts and ideas with you, it's like getting a VIP pass to their brilliant mind. You'll never be short of engaging conversations with these guys. Your future spouse has more earthly vibes. I'm getting heavy Capricorn and Virgo vibes. They may have their Venus in earth or vice versa.

Challenging side : Alright, I'm getting that Your future spouse's brain is like a constant whirlwind of ideas, which sometimes means they can come across as a tad distant. They're so deep in thought that they might unintentionally tune out the world around them. You might need to remind them that Earth still exists lol. Their analytical nature can be a double-edged sword. Sure, they're great at solving problems, but sometimes they overthink things to the point where it feels like they're dissecting the meaning of life. Patience might be your ally when they go into full-on ponder mode. Another thing is their high standards. They have this vision of how things should be, and they won't settle for anything less. It's awesome that they strive for excellence, but it could lead to some frustration if things don't meet their expectations. And while they're great at giving advice, they might not always be the best at dealing with emotional situations. They tend to approach things with logic, even when emotions are in play.

[wooahaes]

taste test

pairing: non-idol!jun x gn!reader

prompt: soulmate au series. 11/13

word count: 3.9k~

warnings: major food mentions throughout the entire fic!! mentions of reader being impulsive at some points.

daisy’s notes: i love when i get to write jun just being a sweetie btw

summary: Jun has grown accustomed to the way his soulmate eats. He hopes they don’t hate him for the way he snacks and sneaks bites of his cooking, or for the way he experiments in the kitchen sometime. But running a restaurant means he’s constantly evolving the menu… So if it leads the two of you together, then that’s good, right?

Jun turned ten years old and was… upset, to say the least, that he didn’t have a soulmate. His mother had smoothed his hair back gently and told him not to worry. If he didn’t have a soulmate, it would change nothing about him. He was still the smart little guy she had raised so lovingly, and it took nothing away from his worth. And if he did have a soulmate, then hopefully he would find them one day if so he chose. She supported him wholeheartedly, and Jun would look back on the memory with nothing but undying love for his mother for handling the situation so well. Of course, it took a few days for Jun to realize that the flavors he kept tasting on the back of his tongue were more than just cravings and his imagination… but that didn’t change the gentle comfort his mother had given him. She’d held his hand at the doctor, too, and throughout the tests to make sure that all was well with him.

His doctor had straightened up the papers on his desk—results of said tests, no doubt—and looked at Jun’s mother. “It’s the most common sign,” he said, and relief crossed her face immediately. “But it still happens.”

His mom had questions. Jun just focused on the lemon-flavored lollipop he’d been given, mind wandering a bit. Apparently, it was common enough for doctors to hand them out to kids to soften the blow of whatever came next in visits like this. Soulmates were normal enough, but Jun knew as much as his mother that some people had… less ideal soulmate marks. One of his classmates felt her soulmate’s pain (sometimes so bad that she cried, the feeling so new to someone with only so many years of life lived). One of his teacher’s had yet to meet her soulmate at the beginning of the year, only for sparks to literally fly when she ran into a new member of staff an hour later. None of his classmates had been hurt by the slight shock, but Jun couldn’t imagine having a mark like that—even if his teacher swore that it just felt soothing. Adults lied to kids all the time just to put on a brave face, after all.

It’d been a lie to say that Jun’s sign had no influence on him and his life. He had learned to cook alongside his mother and step-father so that he could take care of himself in the future, yes… but it did help him when he was trying to figure out what his soulmate was eating. His taste buds matured more and more with age, and eventually he liked to think he had a pretty solid understanding of what his soulmate was eating. He could pick out the sweetness of vanilla ice cream on apple pie, the buttery crust and cinnamon and ginger and nutmeg pointing him in the right direction. He knew the umami of different meats and the savory sauces they were cooked in. He had to adapt sometimes based on what he had available… but Jun would meet those cravings he felt, just to understand his soulmate a little better. Not that anyone complained when he did: his family adored his cooking, his friends loved a free meal, and his coworkers weren’t going to turn down leftover cookies and whatnot when he brought them in during his work study job in college. What was the point in making so much food if he couldn’t ensure the people he cared for were well fed?

That was what led him to dropping out of one school (sorry, dreams of being an actor) and pursuing culinary school in the end. He went through years of long hours and endless studying just to end up where he was now: standing in front of an empty building, arms folded across his chest. A few of his friends stood there with him, admiring the place he was officially renting out. It had taken a while to save up and get approved for loans and square away all of the business side of things (and even still, he had orders to make and so, so much more work ahead of him)... But holding the keys in his hand made it all real. 

This was step one of many for finding his place. And if it led his soulmate to him, then he would be happy.

Everything was wrong, and Jun couldn’t figure out what the problem was.

The restaurant was doing well, thankfully. He wasn’t in the red, although business could be better. People liked having authentic Chinese cuisine, and Jun was more than happy to provide it and share more of his heritage… and occasionally pack a takeout container a little more full for the college student who looked on the edge of a breakdown. But the restaurant could be doing better, making more money, and that meant he needed to make adjustments. He’d gone over survey cards, trying to figure out what needed to be fixed, and that was what led him to now. He’d been cooped up in his apartment for days now, trying to perfect a dish from his childhood that he couldn’t get right. Mingyu was sitting at the counter, muttering something to Minghao as the two (alongside Seokmin) tried to figure out what element was missing from it all. Seokmin suggested something sweet, but Jun had shot it down when Seokmin suggested a little more sugar: he’d already tried adjusting the amount, sorry. He’d even tried brown sugar, honey, and plenty of other alternatives, just to see if maybe he’d been going in the wrong direction.

One of his arms was draped over his eyes as he laid across the couch. What was missing…? He could call his mom, but part of him wanted to figure it out for himself. The answer was right there on the tip of his tongue, his lips almost tingling in the strangest way.

“It feels like it should be obvious,” Seokmin sighed, toying with the bracelet around his wrist. “Shouldn’t it be?”

It was. It had to be. That was why it was so infuriating. Jun turned over with another sigh, shutting his eyes. It was as if the answer was burning within him now, yet still out of reach. 

“Maybe it isn’t sweet,” Mingyu picked up another piece of chicken, holding it up to the light for a moment, as though it’d give him the answer. “It’s already sweet as it is… I don’t think making it sweeter would help.”

That burning had traveled to the back of his tongue now, and he jerked up. Wait a second. What the hell was his soulmate eating? He knit his brow together, frowning. This wasn’t the time for them to be messing around with some spice challenge—and judging by the cold, mild taste that subdued that heat, that must have been what they were doing. Yet once the taste of milk had disappeared, the burning was already back. What the hell was his soulmate doing? That mild taste washed over his tongue again after a moment, only to be followed again by a heat that nearly made his eyes water.

Jun tore off of the couch, immediately rushing to the cabinets. That cooling sensation hit him again, and the burning never came back, but Jun could see great, big neon signs when they were right in front of him. He’d added a little to begin with, but maybe…

“Jun?” Minghao watched as Jun pulled a container from the cabinet, making his way over to the pot. “What are you?”

He mixed in more red pepper flakes, far more than he’d done the first time. “It’s not spicy enough.”

Seokmin blinked in confusion, looking from Jun to the other two friends present. “I thought it wasn’t supposed to be that spicy.” 

“It’s still supposed to have a kick,” Minghao said, sniffling. Of course Minghao wouldn’t have caught it: the poor guy was still recovering from a cold. “Jun, I thought you—”

Jun tested the sauce, shutting his eyes… and there it was. How the hell did you…? Maybe you were like him and understood food, too. Or maybe you remembered the previous times he’d eaten this dish and realized it wasn’t burning your mouth enough. The only real question that remained was what the hell did you decide to eat? He paused, wondering if you were out there, eating raw peppers or squirting hot sauce into your mouth just to send him a sign. He paused, looking down at the bottle of red pepper flakes. Now that he was thinking about it, the taste was exactly what he was looking for—

No. You didn’t. No. He looked up, brows raising as he processed this new theory. Some people could handle red peppers well, but apparently you couldn’t (at least not raw) considering you had to douse the capsaicin with milk or something quickly to try and spare yourself that pain. All of it was just to send him this signal that something was missing and you knew what it was. He found himself smiling. He hadn’t even met you yet, and already he was a little endeared to you.

He returned the favor to you later, though. The cravings hit him in that weird way that made him feel like you were taste testing, and Jun didn’t think twice before shoving half a lemon into his mouth. He’d recognize the dish you were making later, but he didn’t care about the weird looks that the others had given him. Minghao, who knew the deal, had given him this look that was a mix of understanding and downright disgust. 

Seungcheol had sighed, getting up from the table. “You’re so weird,” he said, making his way to the kitchen to get the other lemons. “Those were supposed to be a palate cleanser…”

He’d apologized profusely afterward, not realizing that people had paid him any attention, but he hoped you appreciated his help. Maybe he couldn’t help you directly in the way he’d begun yearning to… but he was fine with making a fool of himself like this to help you in return. After all, that’s what a soulmate was for… Right?

“Jun.”

So maybe it was another one of those nights. And maybe Jun messaged the group chat to see who wanted to come with him to get ice cream this late. What was so wrong with that? Soonyoung sat across from him, a cup of sorbet in front of him that he kept pushing around with a pink plastic spoon. Jihoon’s lips were closed around a bright blue one, his frozen yogurt melting in its cup as he watched Jun carefully. And Wonwoo sat beside him, phone in one hand as he held a cone in the other. Jun had carefully picked out every single part of the little sundae that sat in front of him now: the flavor from the back of his tongue, the toppings what he thought you were out there eating on your own sundae… Was this your favorite? Or was it just what you wanted today? He recognized some of the flavors from past times, and yet today the craving was strong enough to drag him out of bed.

“Hm?” A bright green spoon hung from his own mouth, and all he could taste was plastic now. His mind had wandered a bit too much again, but… that was normal when he had his soulmate on his mind. All he wanted to do was meet you and know you. “Yes?”

“You’re thinking about them again,” Wonwoo said in a low, calming voice. There was no accusation in it, no teasing jab at him for getting caught up in silly, sappy thoughts again. Not that his friends teased him for it often—they did, but their teasing was usually saved for Mingyu and Chan and Seungcheol. “Is something on your mind?”

There it was. That’s what they’d all been wondering, after all: the concern was written on their faces, plain as day. Jun pulled the spoon from his mouth, “I’m okay. Just… thinking.” 

“About?” Soonyoung’s foot nudged against Jun’s in an attempt to prod more information from him. “You can share if you’d like.” 

He pressed his lips together, trying to figure out where to start. He had a lot of thoughts about you—the same as anyone would, right? He knew that you most likely wondered about who he was as a person. “I hope they’re kind.” 

No one said anything yet, just to give him more space to speak as he processed his thoughts.

“I think… I used to have all of these ideas for what I wanted in a person. I wanted them to look a certain way, to act a certain way…” He trailed off. “And… I think now I can’t help but think that all I want is someone I can be happy with. Someone who accepts me for me.” He scooped another bit of his ice cream up, pausing for a moment before eating it. “Someone who I can accept, too.” 

“You will,” Jihoon spoke up immediately. “Accept them. I think… I think you’ll be happy with them.” 

Soonyoung’s eyes crinkled in delight, “They’ve burned their taste buds for you before. I think they’ll be perfect for you.”

It earned a warm chuckle from Jun, smiling to himself again. He always found himself smiling when you were on his mind, and he hadn’t even met you yet. How was he supposed to go through his days when he did meet you? The same way the others did after meeting their soulmates, he assumed. Was it strange to wonder if you were like him? A little odd at times, but warm and caring and silly?

“He’s gone,” Wonwoo gently teased, smiling to himself. His phone lit up a second later from my love and Wonwoo, too, was gone with that bashful look on his face. Wonwoo had never been the kind of person who yelled his love from rooftops, but showed it in the way his eyes always seemed to sparkle a little more, heart fluttering smiles and rosy cheeks to define it. 

“You are, too,” Jihoon chuckled. Yet it was Jihoon who quietly loved his soulmate, too, always mindful of their limits in the way they were mindful of him and his limits. Jun had seen them interact a few times, and he saw the way he’d wordlessly take his soulmate’s hand when the crowds were thicker, and didn’t let go when they were through it. Little displays of affection that he’d never comment on, just to spare Jihoon the embarrassment of being called out for it.

Jun watched Soonyoung for a moment, just to be aware of him. Soulmate talk went fine with him most of the time, but everyone knew that Soonyoung (just as Seokmin did) had his moments of insecurity with his own lack of a sign. Yet he was smiling to himself, and immediately jumped to teasing Jihoon for something that he’d said about his soulmate not long ago. It turned the latter’s cheeks bright red as he complained, waving him off. So what if he liked his soulmate? That’s what they were there for, right? They were supposed to be someone that he liked. And yet Wonwoo had chuckled, joining in on the teasing as well.

Jun just smiled to himself, savoring the sweetness of the moment and the ice cream.

For the most part, being friends with Jun meant they had special privileges. When Seungcheol asked if they could all meet up close to closing so he could share some special news (with the promise that at least he would help close up for the night), Jun had agreed easily enough. Not everyone could make it, but Jun carried out a tray of dishes to set in front of those present. Seungcheol had been talking about how different his life felt now that he could see color, no longer relying on which light was lit for traffic lights or asking people for the right color apple. He'd pulled over a chair, breaking into a pair of chopsticks so he could reach out and snag a dumpling while he took a few minutes to rest.

"Also... All of you are terrible!" Seungcheol huffed. "I told Seungkwan first and he immediately started sending me pictures of myself in ugly outfits you all swore went together!"

It earned a snort from Jeonghan, who'd been busy typing something out on his phone. "We didn't do it all the time, you know."

Seokmin was staring at his watch the entire time, and Jun reached out, fingers brushing his bicep. "Are you okay?"

"Just waiting for something," he said. Then he looked up, the realization dawning on him as he shook his head. "Sorry! Sorry, I'm fine. Just..." He looked at the door again. "Waiting."

Seungcheol changed the topic away from the outfits he was debating with Joshua (no, he did not like that neon shirt, thank you), "We're going out on Tuesday, actually. I think you guys will like them..."

Jun smiled to himself. It was nice seeing Seungcheol so at ease. The idea of never meeting his soulmate had been weighing on him for a while now, and even more-so since everyone else seemed to be finding their soulmate over the past year. Before he could join the conversation, he saw Seokmin getting up and heading toward the computer right as the door opened, a little bell jingling. Jun excused himself from the group as Seungcheol continued on about his soulmate, making his way over to the counter.

"Sorry," the customer had said, and Jun had slid the menu across to you without much thought. "My friend, Minho, came here with a couple friends and said you might be able to help?"

Jun just blinked in confusion. "I'm sorry. With...?"

"My soulmate had this dish a few days ago," you rested your hands on the counter, "and I've managed to narrow it down based on a lot of Googling. But there's a couple things I'm not sure about, but Minho said what I kept describing sounded like Chinese food, and--"

Jun waved a hand. "I understand," he said. "I have the same sign."

You sighed in relief. "Good. It's not the rarest sign, but people don't always get it since it’s still uncommon, y'know? Your soulmate must be lucky, though," you drummed your fingers against the counter. "Also... Sorry about coming in this late. I saw you're closing in an hour, and—”

Jun stopped you there. "It's okay," he insisted. "It's what I'm here for. Just tell me what--"

"Jun," Seokmin called out, looking up from the monitor. "There's a request for takeout. I'm gonna confirm it, alright?"

Jun waved him on, and turned back to you. "Sorry. The food...?"

You'd started to rattle off what you'd tasted days ago, saying something about how the craving never fully left you. Jun helped square you away, telling you to sit wherever you'd like and he'd have your food out as soon as he could. He made his way to the computer where Seokmin stood, brows knit tightly together.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, keeping his voice low. "You seem... different."

Seokmin shook his head. "The ticket's on the line," he kept his eyes glued to the screen. "Just... thought I recognized the name."

Jun shrugged it off and went to work, Mingyu having already made his way back into the kitchen to help. Soon enough, several orders have been made and plated. Mingyu walked away, making his way to greet you while Jun uncapped a sharpie with his teeth. Seokmin watched as Jun drew a little cat onto the corner of one of the lids, and then a little flower next to it.

"Someone else could pick up the order," Jun said after capping the marker again. "If you don't want to go."

"No!" Seokmin paused, waving a hand. "I mean--The money is good, and my bike is outside. I'll try to be back to help clean up." He tied the bag after throwing in a few utensils and fortune cookies, pausing before he turned away. "Jun?"

He looked up from where he was tidying things up behind the counter. "Hm?"

Seokmin went to speak, and then turned, gazing at where you sat alone. He shook his head, turning back to Jun. "Actually... Don't worry about it."

Jun was definitely going to call Seokmin in the morning if he didn't make it back before they all left. He watched as he made his way out of the restaurant, waving to the others before going out for a late night delivery, and Jun sighed. Maybe he was having an off day. He'd mention it to Minghao if nothing else, and maybe he'd check on him tonight. He turned, grabbing a rag on his way back into the kitchen so that he could start cleaning up again, only to catch himself freezing once he recognized something.

That blend of spices. The sauce on your meal. He turned, staring at you as he watched you eat in peace. You. He dropped the rag, body moving on its own as if you were a magnet drawing him in. He slowed to a stop, unsure of what to say. You looked up, confused for a moment.

"I think..." His voice came out hoarse and quiet, and he cleared his throat. "I... I was perfecting this recipe a few days ago."

You stared at him. "Huh?"

"This is—This is the improved version," he said, hands curling around the back of an empty chair. Just say it, a voice in his head said. All he needed to say were those three words, and yet they felt lodged in his throat.

"You're...?" You dropped your chopsticks with a gasp, standing up. "You?!"

Jun didn't know whether to be hurt by that or not. "Would you rather I not be—”

"I have eaten so many stupid things for you!" You said, loud enough to get the attention of Jun's friends. "And--And you kept eating stupid things for me when I couldn't get the recipe right!"

He laughed. "I know—"

"Oh my god," you said. "No wonder you were always right. I mean, sometimes it didn't really help because I didn't have the ingredients, but—but you still tried!" You'd laughed, warm and vibrant. "Oh my god—I'm sorry, I just—No wonder you knew what I was talking about."

Jun caught a glimpse of his friends all silently watching, and he waved them off. "I..." His face was burning, and he started patting himself down to find his phone. "I really don't want to talk more in front of my friends."

You glanced over to them, and then nodded. "Yeah! Yeah, sorry, I just—I really should have come with Minho that time, huh?"

"Maybe..." He'd plucked his phone from his back pocket. "I could buy you dinner? If you want—”

"I'd like that," you said, accepting his phone. You punched in your number before adding a little heart emoji by your name. "Now I can go straight to the source for my cravings."

He laughed softly again, holding his phone closer to his chest. "Whatever you want," he said. "Just say the word."

With a smile from you, Jun felt his world change entirely. "I'll hold you to that, chef."

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

[phoenixcatch7]

In love with the idea of captain marvel being Billy's imaginary friend. Like, it'd be so easy. Early depictions had them as almost fully separate people sometimes, like one soul with two minds, rather than just two filters like we mostly see now.

But imagine a Billy down on his luck, hurt and hiding from police and criminals alike, daydreaming the hours away as children do, taking inspiration from all the superheroes rising to fame, making little stories to play out his dreams of saving the world with a generic action doll he found while dumpster diving once. Most of the paint's rubbed off.

Red's his favourite colour, his comfiest jumper is a bright ruby even after all the grime and washes. Gold, too, it's shiny and warmer than silver! A hero cape is a must, big and eye catching! And he can fly, of course, like superman, and in his daydreams, when he's sore and frustrated after a long day's grind, his superhero is smart enough and knows all the right words to get the bullies to stop without resorting to fighting.

His superhero fantasy is one he spends a lot of time on, the first one he goes for when struggling to sleep at night, and he can picture it so clearly. Captain marvel is big and bright and kind, strong enough to lift the boxes for the old lady up the road who's moving all by himself, fast enough to catch Jamie who fell out of the tree on Saturday and broke his leg and couldn't come to class for weeks. He appears at the entrance to alleys when Billy is cornered, he steps up behind to cover for him when he gets caught shoplifting, he sits at the bus stop with him when it's pouring rain and the right bus doesn't seem to be coming.

And then the wizard comes, or rather whisks him away, and like a magician from a fairytale breathes life into his imaginary friend until Billy feels thrice his size and a million times more invincible.

From then on, captain marvel is a real hero, just like Billy is a real boy, and as one they save the whole city, and then the whole world, and get cats down from trees and help Mrs Victoria move the last of her boxes and she gives them a pinch in the cheek and cookies for the road and sometimes it hurts but it's so much better than he imagined.

[livwritesstuff]

Hazel James Harrington is about three years old when Steve and Eddie realize she will be causing a very specific kind of problem.

The problem really stems from how goddamn sweet Hazel is, and how hard that makes it to say no to her.

It's a new problem for Steve and Eddie, because they'd never had any problem saying no to Moe and Robbie (the hard part was getting them to listen). Hazel, though, and her little face and big eyes and mop of blonde hair that surprised them all by turning curly just like her big sister Robbie’s, is their sweetest baby by a mile, almost never getting upset or throwing tantrums. All that combined makes it so hard to figure out how to refuse things, and Hazel’s a smart cookie, so she totally knows this.

And she totally uses it to her advantage.

All. The. Time.

When Hazel was three, she went through a phase where she absolutely refused to go to sleep.

One Friday night, when all three girls were finally in bed, Steve and Eddie retired to the couch to watch a movie on DVD that they’d wanted to see in theaters but couldn’t ever get around to because…children. 

It was nearing ten o’clock at night and they were fifteen minutes into the movie and Steve had a glass of wine in hand when the one light they had left on so they weren’t sitting in total darkness suddenly switched off.

Steve let out a sigh.

“Who’s out of bed,” Eddie asks in a mock-accusatory voice.

Steve turns to look towards the kitchen and can just barely make out a Hazel-sized shadow making its way towards them.

“Hazel,” he groans, “It’s way past your bedtime.”

And then the little shit has the audacity to climb into his lap, footie pajamas and all because it’s January and freezing cold outside, and Steve is only human, and he loves his kids so much it hurts, so of course he’s pulling her into his arms for a snuggle.

“You forgot to turn off that light,” Hazel tells him, her little hands tapping against his shoulders, “and I forgot to tell you what I dreamed about.”

“Are these daydreams, my girl?” Eddie asks, eyeing Steve warily because he can obviously tell how close Steve is to caving and spending the rest of the night cuddling their littlest girl, “Because you haven’t been to sleep yet.”

“No, I had the dream last night,” she corrects.

“Ah, my mistake. Apologies.”

Needless to say, Steve and Eddie put a pause on the movie to hear about Hazel’s dreams.

Another time, the whole family was heading into Boston for a Red Sox game, and they were running really late.

“Okay, who’re we waiting on?” Steve asked.

“I don’t have eyes on Hazel,” Eddie replied, mid-way through corralling Moe and Robbie to the car.

Steve found Hazel in her room, still in her pajamas, looking up at her closet.

“What’s the hold-up, hon?” he asked.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” she told him.

Steve’s eyebrows flew up, because between Eddie’s inability to shake his love for buying clothes for their kids and years of hand-me-downs from Moe and Robbie, Hazel’s closet was packed.

“You’ve got plenty to wear,” he replied.

“I just…” Hazel shrugged up her little shoulders as she looked back up at her closet, “I’m just not the right person for these clothes.”

“Okay?”

“It’s about how you feel in the clothes,” she continued.

Steve narrowed his eyes, silently running through his mental rolodex in search for whoever she might have learned that one from.

(He suspected Robin).

“Okay, baby, no matter what, you cannot say that to Daddy.”

“But I like talking to Daddy.”

[fillinforlater]

Masterlist No. 1 to 50

Here are my first 50 fics in order by release, starting with my debut. When you scroll down, you can find a lot of crazy other stories like and unlike it. Some of them have more than two idols. Feel free to back read whatever you like. You can also go through the rest of my NMS:

One-Shot Masterlist

Series Masterlist

IZ*ONE Masterlist

(Fic span: 13th September 2021 - 7th June 2022)

Castle of A Thousand Spiders - ft. Eunbi

Dazed - ft. Yeji, Yoojung

Say It Again - ft. Yerin

Commitment - ft. Dahyun

Classmating - ft. Minju

Welcome aboard, human - Spaceship: Horizon - Prologue

Unexpected ft. Hitomi - Spaceship: Horizon - Part 1

Cumming Home ft. Mina (TWICE) - Spaceship: Horizon - Part 2

Lawless ft. SinB, Eunha - Spaceship: Horizon - Part 3

Lucid Dream I ft. Giselle - Spaceship: Horizon - Interlude

-10-

Healing ft. JiU - Spaceship: Horizon - Part 4

Lazy but Laid - ft. Luda - Spaceship: Horizon - Part 5

The Star in Space - ft. Sakura - Spaceship: Horizon - Season Finale

Commas, Colons, Cumming - ft. Eunha, Umji

Four Cherries - ft. Chaewon, Mina, Sana, Minju

Ominous Oracle - Spaceship: Horizon - Prologue 2

Legendary Cookies - ft. Yuri, Sakura, Eunbi, Hyewon, Minju

Loathing Love: Lucky Loser ft. Hyewon, Eunbi

Cumforting ft. Minju (Sequel to Classmating)

Snake Invasion ft. Sana (Quickie: Phone Part 1)

-20-

The Smart Duck ft. Yena - Spaceship: Horizon - Part 6

Bunny Upside Down ft. Nayeon (Quickie: Phone Part 2)

Loathing Love: Liable Lady ft. Eunbi, Hyewon

Angel of Infinity +0 ft. Minju (Quickie: Phone Part 3)

Angel of Infinity +1 ft. Minju, Tzuyu (Quickie: Phone Part 4)

Angel of Infinity +2 ft. Minju, Yiren, Tzuyu (Quickie: Phone Part 5)

A Collection for a Special Date: Part I ft. Minju 

A Collection for a Special Date: Part II ft. Minju (fluff)

A Collection for a Special Date: Part III ft. futa!Minju

Not-So-Cute ft. Jiheon - Spaceship: Horizon - Part 7

-30-

Scandal ft. Dahyun (Quickie)

Hot Helping Hands ft. Momo, Chaeyoung (Quickie)

Eleven to One: Impossible Taming ft. Ahn Yujin (Eleven to One Universe)

Changer ft. Xiaoting (Quickie)

The Neighborhood knows ft. Minju (Quickie)

Eleven to One: Easily Tempted ft. Yujin, Minju (Quickie) (Eleven to One Universe)

Plank ft. Heejin - Spaceship: Horizon - Part 8

Needy. Greedy. Breedy ft. Minju (Collab)

[The one] who won [?] ft. Gaeul, futa!Chaehyun, futa!Dayeon

Let It All Out ft. Somi (Quickie)

-40-

Eleven to One: Into the Next ft. Yujin, Eunbi (Collab) (Eleven to One Universe)

In Vino Veritas ft. Heejin (Quickie)

Carry a Stranger ft. Yoojung (Quickie)

Energy Restored ft. Jeongyeon (Phone: Part 6)

[These] two [won] too ft. Chaehyun!, Dayeon!, Mashiro, Xiaoting, ChoiYujin!, Gaeul, AhnYujin, Rei! (Kep1er & IVE)

Eleven to One: Mandatory Lesson ft. Yujin (Collab) (Eleven to One Universe)

Revelation in a Shower ft. Gowon

Loathing Love: Lusty Loop ft. Hyewon, Yuri

LOYAnaL ft. Chaewon, Winter (Quickie)

Labyrinth of the Six ft. E:U, Sihyeon, Aisha vs Yoohyeon, Sua, Gahyeon

-50-

GO BACK TO THE MAIN MASTERLIST POST

[ghouljams]

The Witch makes a bet, Fae!Price shows he can’t be trusted.

It's a beautiful day. Although it usually is. Your ancestors bargained for the patch of Summer your garden occupies ages ago. The front of your house may be battered with the rain of the city, but out back its warm and sunny. You drag a wicker table and stool out to sit in the garden, enjoy the sun. A pitcher of sunshine tea and rose jam cookies act as your company.

You close your eyes, face tilt towards the sun, letting it warm your bones. Your magic purrs like a pleased cat at the ambient energy. You should air out the house.

Price watches you from the fence, it seems he's shown up late. Just in time to enjoy your comfort though. Your pleased little smile, the way your lashes rest against your cheeks, the warmth of the sun radiating off of you. You look like something out of a dream, your shawl pooling at your waist, haphazardly draped over your elbows. He wonders if it's raining on the other side. You prefer that shawl when it rains.

He whistles to draw your attention. Your eyes open slowly, lazy with sunshine as you smile at him. He leans against the gate, coaxes the ivy to cushion him from the iron, and returns your smile.

"Aren't you a pretty picture," His eyes drag over your form now that he's sure you're watching.

"It's a nice day," You tell him, his eyes crease, smile more sincere.

"Wouldn't know, it's cold over here." You hum, nodding a little. You stand from your seat and brush your skirt back into place before going in to the house. It's a funny quirk you have, disappearing in the middle of conversations. Price wonders if it's just him or if you do this to your clients as well. You return with another stool and set it on the other side of the table. A second tall glass is placed next to the pitcher.

Price takes a step back from the gate as you walk towards it. You stop and seem to take another moment to think through what you're doing. He wonders what goes through your mind sometimes. You're so smart, so stuffed full of knowledge. He'd love to help you empty it out, stuff you full of something more deserving.

"Would you join me for a snack?" You ask, voice just at the edge of unsure, "Just until the cookies are gone?" It's conditional, time sensitive, it's hardly a debt, but it's an ask, and you feel the weight of a tether hook between you two. It doesn't hurt as much as you'd thought it would.

Price's hand unlatches the gate and swings it open, and you think you've made a terrible mistake as he crosses your threshold with all the hungry grace of a wolf.

You settle your jumping heart beat, when he doesn’t immediately reach to devour you. He’s almost peaceful as he latches the gate behind him, shaking out the sting of iron from his fingers. You know better than to trust the fae, you know better than to trust him.

“You mind if I smoke?” He asks, settling on the stool you’d brought out for him. You shake your head.

“No, be my guest.” He smiles at you, and you hurry to take your seat again as he tugs a cigar from his pocket. You pour his glass full of tea, topping up your own while you’re at it. Your stomach churns nervously, the sun suddenly too hot on your prickling skin. What would your mother say if she knew you’d invited a strange man into the garden? Past all your wards, past the threshold that’s taken generations to build... She’d be pissed.

Price shakes a match to snuff it, and lowers his cigar with a river of smoke. You do your best not to stare, not to appear too watchful of him if only so he doesn’t think you rude.

“I’m not going to eat you,” He must have caught you staring.

“It would be very rude if you did,” You tap your finger against the table as an outlet for your nerves. Price hums, non-committal.

“You’re warded to hell and back,” He says plucking a cookie from the top of the floral patterned plate, he looks it over, inspecting the sweet before popping it in his mouth, “wouldn’t be able to do it even if you were under my teeth.”

You think his estimation of your abilities is rather flattering. Not that you doubt your own magic, but you’re fairly certain nothing would protect you if you were that close. It’s a nice thought, but you’re desperate to tell him he’s wrong.

“As if you wouldn’t try it even with the wards.”

Price smiles, hardly turning his head to look at you. You’ve never seen smoke like the kind that wisps off his cigar, heavy. It falls from his lips when he smokes it, threading between his teeth like water. You wonder if it’s the smoke, or just the atmospheric weight of him. Price’s presence pressing down everything that isn’t eager to oppose it.

“I like to think I have more self control than that,” He tells you evenly, “How about a bet? Your wards against my will power.”

“Not a very good bet.” You grumble.

“I have confidence in both,” He taps the ash off his cigar, crushing the loose embers under his boot, “you have my word I won’t hurt you, won’t even put a penalty on the wager.” You hum. Not entirely tempted to engage with the offer. Especially when it sounds like Price has no clear “win” scenario.

Either your wards break his bite, or he doesn’t do anything to engage the wards. Even a loss for both of you doesn’t net him any gain. He loses a friendly witch, and suffers the consequences of a major brief in guest behavior.

“Whats the wager?” You ask, suspicion in your voice. You’d try harder to cover it, but you want him to hear. You don’t trust him.

“One minute in my lap,” He holds up a finger to emphasize the number, “No penalty, no prize, let me show you how strong you are.”

You don’t like the heat in his eyes, don’t like the longing in your skin to be touched by him again. You bite the inside of your cheek, worrying it as you think. Sounds easy enough, sounds short enough that you could get away if you really needed. They’re not empty compliments either, the fae can’t lie. So why does Price’s confidence make you nervous? You nod your head once, a short jerk, and push up from your stool. You stand in front of Price, and he pats his thigh.

You settle on his lap and his arm loops around you, holding you tight against his chest. You try not to shudder, feeling him turn his head to keep the smoke he exhales off of you. He brushes hair away from your neck, and you tip your head to keep away from the burning end of his cigar, baring your neck for him. “Atta girl,” He tells you low in your ear. You don’t know what you expect when his nose presses against your rapid pulse. His beard tickles your neck, makes you shiver and shake with anticipation as he seems to rest there and just... breathe.

You do your best to keep your mind on your own breaths, the short and rapid rise and fall of your chest so stark when you can feel the broad, calm, expansion of Price’s against your back. His lips just brush your skin, his exhale touches you more than them, but all you can think about is his mouth. The teeth waiting to gobble you up just behind those maddening lips. You shift in his lap, trying to find some give in his iron grip, a way to wiggle your throat away from his teeth. You still, eyes going wide at the hard press of his cock under you. Heat rushes through you, your face feels hot, can he feel the heat that bursts over your skin from where he’s pressed against your neck?

“Price,” You breathe, try to breathe. He hums, drags his nose further up your neck to bump against your jaw.

“Just a little more, witch.” He tells you, his grip on you tightening to keep you from wiggling out of place.

He releases you and you tumble off his lap, fingers digging into the dirt to ground yourself. Everything is too bright, the blood rushing in your ears too loud. Price stands from his seat, his shadow looming over you as you tremble on the edge of something.

“I’m rescinding my welcome,” You tell him, feeling the tether break. Price hums behind you, snuffs his cigar on the plate holding the cookies.

“You’ve been a gracious host,” He responds evenly, his voice dragging over your skin like silk before he’s gone and you’re left alone in your garden.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Please, what are you headcanons about Astarion and human Tav/Durge? There's obviously the angsty issue of humans having one of the shortest life spans of all DnD races but that's only as angsty as you want it to be in this setting (and the stories you can tell about it are what makes it fascinating). Still... What's your take on it? Would that be a disaster for a proud immortal elf?

Since humans are very diverse I decided to take female human Tav who isn't exactly a big girl but would be considered "curvy" by human beauty standarts.

Astarion x F!Human!Tav

Masterlist

Headcanons

You are the third child born into a big family of seven.

Unlike your sisters, you are that girl who is always teased for "eating too much" or "needing too much fabric for a dress."

It would bother you if you had issues with self-esteem. But you don't.

"At least, I have some tits and ass!" you jokingly say to people who decide to comment on your looks.

Besides, your father, a native to Frost North, has always told you that "the bigger a woman is, the more chances she survives a winter".

You inherited from your northern ancestors' red hair, the color of fire.

Freckles dance over your pale skin and, when you laugh, you can be heard in the neighboring village.

Since there's not much for you in life apart from marriage, you sign up to join an adventure party.

Being an adventurer isn't easy. It's dangerous for a lonely woman but you manage to find friends and learn how to protect yourself.

And you are still this jolly human woman who just can't allow herself to stop because your years are so short.

You probably regret this attitude when locked inside the Mindflayer's pod with a nasty tadpole behind your eyes.

You gather this group of traumatized people - it's not like you are the most competent person, but you are, at least, not experiencing the meltdown!

Astarion immediately catches your eye - he is an elf. And it's a common knowledge humans see elves as the most beautiful creatures ever.

Does he think he manipulates you into protecting him? Too bad. You decided you weren't leaving this adventure without this handsome elven man by your side.

A vampire? Even better.

You are much stronger than him and a bit taller.

You can easily pick him since his bones are so light.

And he adores your body.

Your breasts are pretty big and your thighs are soft.

He likes using your boobs as a pillow and you don't mind - because it gives you full access to his hair.

Or putting his head on your soft belly and thighs.

He also adores your body hair - especially the one in private parts.

"You know among humans it's considered ugly unless you are a man"

"No wonder human women prefer elves."

You look adorable in dresses with deep necklines and ribbons in your curly red hair.

And Astarion loves seeing you in the morning, when you, awake from your long human sleep, look at the world with puffy eyes trying to apprehend wtf you saw in your dreams.

"Don't even ask, human's dreams are fucked up."

When Astarion is distressed, you often put him on your knees and lull him like a child.

And it's difficult for him to adapt to your lifestyle.

You are considered a slow type for a human but you are still a human

You are ambitious, loud, and fast. You have so little time left, you want to experience it to the fullest.

You are smart, brave, skilled and unstoppable like a human traveler, who decided they want to reach the edge of the world.

You keep being adventurers until it's too difficult for you.

Your red hair turns white, and you have wrinkles. You aren't a jolly red-haired girl any longer.

You are a jolly old lady who can both bake cookies for neighbor kids and beat someone's abuser with a hammer.

The time passes fast and it's time for you to go.

"You were quite an adventure, Astarion", you whisper to him

"And you were everything", he replies holding his tears back.

Astarion wants to leave the moment you find rest in your grave, but your family, the loud red-haired clan doesn't let him go.

Well, it's not like any of them were ever prepared to have a vampire for an uncle but here they are.

Astarion visits them from time to time, seeing how children grow up, how new things get old, and how the village becomes a town and then a city.

Human lives are so short, they make the most of them

Astarion visits less and less and only some of the oldest residents of the city know about him.

"Oh, yeah… I remember. My grandmother once told me her great-grandfather's sister was married to a vampire."

Sitting at the seashore, waiting to sail to the Isle of Evermeet, Astarion remembers the words he once heard from an old elf.

"You need to fall in love with a human at least once in your life."

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

[moonswolfie]

Smart cookie

Bokuto x quiet!bookworm!reader

(reader is fem)

reviving this old ass draft lmao, this is a fun opposites attract idea i had a while ago, I got a few new ideas for it thanks to @kairismess so here we are

"Bokuto-san, where are you headed?" Akaashi called out when he noticed that Bokuto was heading in a different direction than usual.

"Oh, I'm going to the library!" Bokuto replied cheerfully.

"Oh, well, make sure to- Wait... you're going where?" The entire Fukurodani team had to do a double take, Akaashi asking again.

"The library!" Bokuto repeated loudly, putting his hands on his hips.

"Bokuto. Please tell us if something dark is happening in your life. You know we're here for you." Konoha placed his hand on Bokuto's shoulder, looking at him with a grim expression.

"Uhh, sure? Why are you telling me this now?" Bokuto seemed confused, but appreciated the compassion nonetheless.

"And why do all of you look so scared right now, anyways?" he looked behind Konoha to find the entire team looking concerned and scared.

"It's... nothing. Have... fun." Akaashi smiled, clearly forced.

"...If you say so..." Bokuto turned around and continued walking to the library, despite still being confused and concerned for his teammates.

And there you were. The apple of his eye. Reading a book at the same spot you always read at. You're one of his classmates, but it almost seems like you're strangers. You've never talked before and you don't talk much in general, anyways.

He had to hold back from immediately approaching you, something the managers advised him he shouldn't do with girls. He doesn't know why, but the managers would know better than him since they're girls, right?

So, he picked out a random book and decided to subtly watch you from afar. Unfortunately for him, nothing about him is subtle.

He sat down with the book, pretending to read it while he stole glances at you. "See, I'm smart too! I like books too!" he thought, hoping you would notice him. And you did. His smile brightened with each step you took towards him.

"It's upside down." you pointed to something in his direction.

"Huh?" he looked around, clearly troubled and not understanding what you mean. He got a bit distracted with how pretty your voice sounds, after all.

"Your book. It's upside down." you reiterated, pointing more clearly at the book in his hands.

"Oh... Oh!! Hahaha, oops!" He quickly flipped the book over, smiling at you but dying of embarrasment on the inside. Well, atleast it got you to talk to him!

You sighed slightly, turning back to return to reading and his heart almost sank. He can't let this opportunity go to waste! He finally broke the ice between him and the girl of his dreams!

"Wait! Ah, I mean... wait." He switched his tone over to a whisper when he saw your scowl, only now realising he should be quiet in the library.

"Ummm, we should really... talk more." Bokuto had trouble thinking of things to say. Especially when he doesn't know a single thing about you besides the fact that you like reading which he clearly isn't too versed in.

"Uh, sure. I'll see you tommorow." You replied simply, now actually going back to your spot and continuing to read.

"I meant now..." he mumbled under his breath. Still, this is a GREAT sign. An amazing sign!

"Hehehe, my plan worked..."

[beansmack2021]

The Point of No Return (Pt. 2)

TW: Technically captivity?, yandere tendencies from Alastor, murder on a technicality, very brief mention of bullets and getting shot

She blinked once. Twice. The sky was red. That didn't seem very right. Wasn't it usually blue?

Y/N sat up, her mind foggy. What happened? She heard someone clear their throat beside her. Oh, right. Him.

Alastor, who, during his life, killed a handful of people and got away with it for years. Alastor, who rose from the depths of Hell to separate her and the man who was quickly becoming more and more aggressive with her. Alastor, who was quite the gentleman, for a demon.

She stared at him, waiting for him to explain to her where they were.

"Welcome to Hell, dearest."

Oh.

OH.

What the fuck?

"Hell? As in, Hell from the Bible?" She sputtered.

"The very same. So sorry to drag you away from the world of the living, but you seemed awfully distressed. That oafish man had zero respect for the daintier members of his species. Not to worry, though. I taught him some manners."

She knew what he'd done. He hadn't taught Henry anything. He'd killed him, and without even laying a finger on him. Without... The pieces fit together in her mind like a puzzle.

"You killed Dave, too, didn't you?" Her mother had taught her not to mumble when asking a question, but she was afraid of the answer.

"Indeed I did! Wow, you're quite the smart cookie."

"Why?"

Alastor's unwavering smile widened.

"To help you, my dear. You seemed so bored. You have an enchanting voice and a wonderful presence, and it was going to waste on the pigs you worked for."

She was going to be sick. This man, this demon who'd returned from the dead, killed because of her. He killed Dave and Henry because he thought she bored, and because he thought she was upset.

Alastor held out an arm for her to hold onto as she stood.

"Listen, Alastor. I... appreciate that you tried to help me, but I need to get back home."

Alastor chuckled. It was a resonant sound, loaded with radio static.

"Dear, you can't go home. You've died."

It felt as though a bullet pierced through Y/N's spinal chord and sent her into shock.

"I what?"

"You're dead. This is your home, now. In order to bring you here with me, your soul had to be bonded to mine. Unfortunately, the trip killed you. Worry not, though. You still look as radiant as you did during your life."

Y/N wanted to scream. She was dead. She was in Hell. Apparently, she and Alastor were tied together by their souls. She reached up to scratch her head, trying to figure out what to do and determine whether or not this was all real or some super fucked up dream. Then, she felt the ears. She really did scream.

"What the fuck is on my head?"

Alastor perked up. "Ah, you mean your ears. Yes. It appears you've developed similar traits to my own. You still look the same as you did on Earth, but now you have the ears and nose of a deer. It's quite endearing."

"Fuck."

"Such a pretty little potty mouth. That's alright, I can learn to live with a few curse words every now and then."

She saw red. How could he not understand that she didn't want to learn to live with him? She wanted to go home. But then, if he was telling the truth and she really was dead, then there was no going home. She plopped down on the ground, put her head in her hands and felt her face heat up as she started to cry.

"Oh, I wasn't really prepared for this strong of a response. Do you need anything from me?"

"I need you to leave me the fuck alone."

Alastor wanted to tell her that it was impossible, now that they were bonded, but he had enough common sense to know to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he just sat down beside on the ground and quietly waited for her to stop crying.

She sniffled and looked up at him, wiping her nose.

"Come now, dear. I think I know a place that might cheer you up."

~

It's short but I really wanted to crank it out. There will be a part three soon.

[coalswriting]

domestic / dating headcanons - shauna shipman

(approx. 800 words)

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

you met shauna on your first day of school. you were a new student, and she was assigned to take care of you and show you around.

the two of you got along pretty well; conversations just went smoothly, and it genuinely seemed like she listened to everything you said, and in return, you listened to her. you could talk about super deep topics for hours; or at least until school ended for the day.

you gushed to your parents about her when you came home that night and they invited her over for dinner.

when you told her the next day, she was so happy!! she smiled so brightly at you that you instantly felt a new unfamiliar (but nice) feeling in your chest and stomach.

your parents loved her from the start. she was extremely polite and kind, but also witty when the time was right, and your parents found her extremely endearing. so did you. you couldn’t stop thinking of her that night as you tossed and turned in bed. you fell asleep that night cuddling your pillow, and in your dreams, it was her that you were cuddling.

shauna invited you to watch her train so that you could meet her teammates and maybe make more friends. she was so attractive, and you were glued to the way she played, flanking her teammates, and stealing the ball as if she didn’t even have to try.

you two started studying together after her practices because she was also extremely smart (seriously, how could someone be so good at everything?). you were failing history and shauna managed to make the subject seem so interesting to you whereas you would fall asleep in class. you passed that year with a high B.

eventually, shauna invited you to a sleepover with her teammates at her house. her house wasn’t massive but it was homely. you mostly spent the night sitting between shauna and natalie while you all gossiped, ate pizza, and played truth or dare.

everyone fell asleep once the movie came on; well, everyone but you and shauna. you decided to go to the kitchen so that you could talk without disturbing everyone since neither of you were awake.

one thing led to another, and you and shauna ended up kissing ‘to practice’. you stopped believing it was ‘practice’ after she kissed you the third time. things got heated fast, and the two of you became a casual thing.

going to the library with shauna to study turned into making out in the abandoned book aisles after you would get through a lot of work. watching her practice turned into her trying to impress you and make your heart flutter by her flirtatious mannerisms. sleepovers turned into an excuse to kiss and hold each other at night.

after a few weeks of this, you both decided to take the step towards commitment and began dating.

it’s hard to say that nobody saw it coming; literally everyone saw the chemistry between you two before you saw it.

sleepovers at each-others houses became more frequent. you never cooked together, but you always tried to bake at least one new thing every sleepover. peanut butter cookies? brownies? cheesecake? you’ve tried it all.

you both aren’t great at baking though, and half the time the food would be really bad.

“shauna, did you put baking soda in the batter instead of baking powder?? the cake tastes salty.”

“uhhh, oops?”

still, you both have fun baking together even if it sucks.

shauna is such a big spoon. like, no matter what you do or how you sleep, you will end up pressed against her chest, her arm draped around you. if you pull away from her in the middle of the night, she will literally wake you up to ask you if you’re mad at her.  

“no shauna… i’m just hot…”

“then take off your shirt, don’t leave me!!”

you and shauna don’t go on many dates because she doesn’t necessarily care about the experience as much as she does just spending time with you.

she might take you stargazing some night, or go to a restaurant or café with you, but you both agree that you don’t need anything extravagant.

you once brought home a little blue pig plushie for her because you thought it’d be cute, and she was so flattered that she keeps it in her car.

shauna isn’t huge on the kissing parts of pda but she will hold your hand or have her arm around your shoulders if you’re sitting together. she’s just casual like that, really. she likes to show that you’re hers without nauseating all of her friends and teammates.

a good example of this is that you’ll wear her letterman at parties or in school. everyone knows you’re hers because it literally says ‘S. SHIPMAN” on the back and across the sleeve.