#he looks like mash potato … like the dog …

[ipegchangbin]

i drew changbib

[spinchip]

Zane is a good cook bc he's extremely good at differentiating flavor profiles and has a good enough memory bank of what food works best together that he can make dinner from scratch, no recipie Involved, and have it be 5-star gourmet. When he tastes his own cooking, he can easily identify what it needs to take it to the next level.

Jay CAN cook bc Ma Walker is definitely the type of lady that would stick Jay in the kitchen to help, but he's not super confident. He has like 5 recipies on LOCK (spaghetti, tacos, chicken Alfredo, chicken noodle soup, and meatloaf) but is completely unsure about anything new. He makes mash potatos from the instant add-hot-water packages and didn't even know you could do it another way

Kai is good at cooking in a nostalgic, weird childhood foods type of way. Spaghetti with hot dogs chopped up in it, noodles and tomato sauce, tuna casserole- that realm of weird but cheap. He can typically look in the cabinets and come up with something without buying any extra ingredients, and it's usually not half bad. He tends not to like his own food even if everyone else enjoys it tho, strangely enough

Nya can't cook lol. She's a master at frozen meals tho. She can pop some chicken nuggets or a pizza in the oven with the best of them I'm sure

Lloyd is an okay cook, but he always adds a sweet component to his foods that are hit or miss for the others. He just likes his meals on the sweet side, no savory or salty for him. There's a salt shaker filled with sugar for him on the table

Cole is a bad cook but it's really not his fault. His dad is an AWFUL AWFUL cook and Cole grew up eating his food- and now that's what he likes. Over cooked, dry chicken? Mushy mac and cheese? Burnt vegetables? That's just coles' normal. The first time he had well cooked, juicy chicken it grossed him out bc it felt like he was eating it raw

[beefrobeefcal]

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Joel Miller & his Darlin' One Shot: A Trouble Shared is a Trouble Halved Summary: You and Joel navigate settling down in Jackson as a couple with its ups and downs. (Post Outbreak)

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 3,900

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), talk of eating, weight gain, oral (f receiving), angst, established relationship growing pains, argument

Author's Notes: Am I back? Maybe baby! I'm delighted to finally do what was asked of me in a poll and I thank you all for your love and patience.

Thanks be to @neverwheremoonchild, @strang3lov3, and @notjustjavierpena for their eyes, thots, and brains. And thank you to @noxturnalpascal for the THOT that gave life to this fic so very long ago.

“Eatin’ like it's your last day on earth, Miller...”, you teased with a wry smile as you walked past him in the dining hall.

“Shut it...”, he grumbled, a bit of pink flushing his cheeks. He took another bite of gravy-flooded mashed potatoes.

“What helping’s this? Third? Fourth?”

Joel looked at you, exasperated. “The fuck? Can't a man enjoy his girl’s cookin’ without the third degree?”

You smiled at him, loving how much of a rise you were getting. It had been a few months since you and Joel had your first encounter, and while nothing was made official, more often than not, you’d find yourself entwined with Joel in your bed at night. His heavy, full stomach pressed against your back as you both slept peacefully. While you enjoyed your time together, you were beginning to feel something was lacking, hence your teasing.

The cold glare he gave immediately dampened the playful banter between you. You felt a twist in your mood and sour heat in your stomach.

He shook his turkey leg at you, giving you a scolding look, and warned, “You better knock that shit off, Darlin’... or so help me, I’m not gonna - .”

“Not gonna what?”, you asked, getting closer, and you voice dropped down to a cool whisper only he could hear. “Not gonna fuck me? Pretty sure haven’t been doing that lately anyway, so what’d be the difference, huh?”

He sat back with wide eyes and his mouth open in shock, and his full belly sat rounded out on his lap. You stood up, brow raised, and arms crossed.

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?!”

Joel was affectionate, but usually too tired, full or both to do anything but let you ride him. And not to say you didn't enjoy it, but it was starting to feel a bit one sided. He hadn’t done anything beyond finger you a bit to get you ready and then sweet talk you into being on top again. He’d apologize and praise you, but you wanted more. Especially now that there was more to him.

His eating habits had really started to impact his physique; his jawline was softer, his arms and thighs were thicker, but his stomach was truly the star of the show. He’d made do with the clothes he had for as long as he could, but at the rate he was eating and the limited physical activity he’d been doing, he had to trade labor and time for new shirts and pants that would fit him. And on nights when he ate like this, you swore you could hear the seams praying to their polyester gods for mercy.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“Coulda fooled me!”, he snapped, louder than he meant. “Seems to do the trick and make you whine and mewl like a beaten dog almost every night!”

You felt your face get hot as a few heads in the dining hall turned towards you. He sighed and his eyes softened as he saw your face fall a bit. But you held firm, pulling your mouth into a scowl.

“Not every night, nowhere near it. And I’m the one doing the work. I’m the one fuckin’ you!”, you hissed.

Before giving him a chance to say anything else, you quickly turned and went back into the kitchen.

*****

After storming out of the dining hall, you’d spent the rest of your shift cleaning the entire kitchen, probably to a degree it hadn’t been since its installation. You’d scrubbed and polished every surface with enough fury in your eyes that no one dared step in. It wasn’t until you heard the jukebox turn off and see the lights in the dining hall dim that you realized you’d been at this for a few hours.

As you leaned back against the counter, head down and thinking over how your and Joel’s interaction had escalated like that, you heard a small voice say your name. You looked up and saw Sally, one of the other kitchen attendants.

“Sorry - don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m tryin’ to close up and Joel won’t leave. Says he’s not leavin’ without’cha.”

You scoffed out a ‘for fuck’s sake’ then walked to the swinging doors, only to see Joel, still seated where he was before, leaning back in his chair and picking his teeth with a toothpick. His eyes met yours, and you knew just from the look he was giving, he had a lot more to say.

“Joel, go home. Need to close up and can’t if you’re here.”

He looked behind you at Sally and gave her a small wave. “I’ll help her close up, Sally. You run on home. We got this.”

“Joel!”, you hissed.

“Go on now, Sally.”

His tone left little room for Sally to argue, and she muttered a ‘good night’ as she passed by you then Joel as head made her way out the door.  You sighed, clenching your jaw, feeling the frustration and anger that you’d just weeded down in your cleaning frenzy begin to rise again. Joel watched Sally leave, then turned back to you, smug look on his face, made all the smugger as he noted your irritation.

“Darlin’, cut that shit out and come’ere.”, he crooned with a small grin, hilding his hand out to you.

You glared at him, not moving from your position.

He kept his hand out and raised his eyebrows and let out a huff. “Don’t make this old man beg, baby…”

“I think this old man has a lot more ground to cover than just beggin’.”, you responded cooly, crossing your arms across your chest. Before Joel could answer, you turned and went back to the kitchen to finish your duties.

You figured there was a 50 / 50 chance of Joel following you in, so as the door swung open and his heavy footsteps lumbered towards you, you knew he was at least picking up slightly on the passive aggressive breadcrumbs you’d dropped. You kept your back to him, drying cutlery and putting them into their respective bins.

“Darlin’…”

Joel’s voice was set low in a growl, leaving you unable to tell whether he was angry or aroused. You jumped as his hand grazed your lower back and settled on your waist, giving you a small squeeze.

“You wan’me to beg?”, he huskily growled into the back of your neck as he pressed a kiss to your skin.

“I gotta finish closin’ up, Joel.”, you stated, keeping your voice as even and unaffected as you could muster.

Joel let out a frustrated sigh-turned-grunt and let you go, stepping back. He leaned back against the wooden shelf behind him, the wood creaking in objection to his weight.

“Fuck, you’re being-“, he started, before letting out a huff. “What has gotten into you?”

Turning around, you were met with something you didn’t anticipate – a dark, sullen, glaring Joel, eyes burning into you.

“Joel-“, you groaned, before he cut you off.

“Don’t fuckin’ Joel me.”, he snapped. “You got a lot of fuckin’ nerve. You know what you said in front of the people eatin’ their food out there? You said I wasn’t fuckin’ you right. And then, I sit here like a goddamned fool, waitin’ for you to finish so we can talk, and you turn your back on me.”

“Joel, I need t-“

“Shut up! I ain’t done talkin’!”

You close your mouth and swallow hard. While you’d seen him get mad before, Joel had never directed it towards you before, and lord almighty, it sucked.

“You think I’m a fuckin’ mind reader? Think I’m gonna know you’re not happy?”, he asked, sounding loud and desperate, as he stood up and stalked towards you.

As he looked down at you, realization of how much bigger he was, in height and weight, came over you.

“I have said someth-“, you tried to argue, but his large hand grabbing yours and tugging you against him stopped you.

“Don’t interrupt me!”, he barked. “You aint said shit! And now you – fuck! No. You know what? Ain’t worth it!”

His eyes glowered down into yours and you in turn felt your eyes begin to sting with tears at the loss of contact. This was the most emotionally charged you’d seen Joel, and you wanted that same energy and passion when he fucked you, not use it to berate you for needing him to give you the same time and attention he showered on the food you cooked for the whole community. You could feel your face getting hot from the anger that was boiling in you over how overlooked you felt, even if it wasn’t entirely true. You were in a heated, frenzied spiral and reason and rationale had abandoned you.

Before you could snap back and tell him how worth it you actually were, Joel’s eyes softened; he let out a deep breath and let go of your arm and stepped back.

“I’ll… I’ll see you at home.”, Joel muttered before he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

You stood silently and watched him leave, feeling your heart break and immolate in your rib cage and hot tears fall down your face. It hit you hard just how hurt you both were.

*****

The house was dark when you walked in the front door. Joel had left no lights on, and you knew Ellie would be at Dina’s house for the night. The only hint you had to deduce that Joel was in fact home was the dim light you saw through his bedroom window as you approached the house. You hung your coat and tucked your boots on the shelf before quietly ascending the stairs to go to your room.

As you tiptoed in the hallways, you passed Joel’s bedroom door and heard him moving around his room. You could see his shadow from the light slipping under his doorway and felt your stomach curdle and sour, your mind jumping to rash conclusions about what he could be doing in there.

Was he packing to move out and get away from you?

Was he trying to clean up to remove your smell?

Was he collecting your things that you’d left in his room so he could hand them to you and tell you to get out?

As the thoughts rippled through your brain, you knew Joel was more methodical than that. He wouldn’t just leave or make you leave like that… would he?

You stepped forward, forgetting about that floorboard. The creak that sang out made both you and Joel’s shadow stop. You kept still for a moment, but the shadow didn’t move either. You were suddenly thrust back into your childhood; the times you were trying to sneak down into the kitchen to grab a snack or watch a blue movie on cable television without your parents catching you.

That fucking floorboard.

The shadow moved slightly, signaling Joel was getting closer to the door, and you moved quickly to your room, no longer caring how much noise you made. As you reached to grab your door handle, you heard Joel’s door pull open.

“Darlin’?”

Your hand clasped the knob, and you closed your eyes, hearing his voice.

“Yeah, Joel?”

You were surprised how soft and calm your voice sounded; it was a stark contrast to the overwhelming, post-anger, anxiety-ridden mess that was your mind.

“Turn around and look at me, Baby.”

“M’tired, Joel… Just gonna go to bed and – “

“I said turn around.”

It wasn’t a request. His tone was gentle, but you could feel it in your bones that this was a command - a soft one, but a command none the less. Your skin prickled in a wave of goosebumps, up your body, culminating at the base of your neck.

Joel must have been able to see the effect he had on you, because the voice he used to speak almost melted the flesh from your bones.

“Darlin’, you’re gonna turn around and look at me. Now.”

You turned around and looked at him. His broad and hefty silhouette stood ominously in his doorway, backlit by the soft glow from his bedroom.

“You comin’ to bed?”, Joel said quietly, but there was an edge to his tone that made your skin once again pebble.

You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head at his question, then shook your head subtly.

“No, Joel. I figured we’d take the night an-“

“And what?”, he snapped, stepping out into the hallway and towards you.

When you didn’t answer, he took another few steps and growled in a lower tone, “And what?!”

Your eyes went wide as he got closer, and your fight or flight kicked in. Taking a step back, you hit your bedroom door, and stumbled through your words. “I… I-I thought… I figured that you’d wanna-“

“That I’d wanna what?”, he snarled, stepping close and his full belly pressed you further into your door.

“Th-that you’d… you’d wanna be… alone to-tonight…”

Joel’s hand came up and he grabbed your chin, forcing your face square to his. “And why d’you think that?”

“Because… because we fought-“

“And you think that gives you the right to not sleep in my bed?”

You were stunned; you had no answer for him, and you also hadn’t ever been this turned on by him with out him already being knuckle deep in your pussy. You swallowed hard and stared back at him. This was a feeling you couldn’t place; it felt like you were slipping under a spell that Joel was casting.

The only response you could finally give was a headshake, and Joel returned it with a curt nod and slight grin.

“Good girl.”, he purred and released your chin.

You followed Joel back into his room, and stood awkwardly as he closed the door. You’d been in his room countless times, and you’d never felt this out of place. You jumped when he put his hands on your hips from behind and pulled you back, the curve of your spine being the perfect angle for his heavy belly to fit against.

“You feel like I’m not takin’ care of you, Darlin’?”, he huskily mewled into your ear before nipping it.

“Joel, I’m sor-“

“Stop.”, he said, abruptly stopping you from finishing your apology.

“We’re past that, Darlin’. Both said things we needed to say, even if we said’em not so nicely.”

You could hear the small smile in his voice and couldn’t help the one that tugged at your mouth slightly. A whisper soft sound came out of you with a sigh. 

But then his tone dipped down, and as he rasped into your ear; one of his hands on your hip slipped to your front as he cupped your denim clad mound.

“You got my attention, baby. You feelin’ needy?”

Your mouth opened, and our flew a feather-light choked whimper. He gripped you roughly and pulled you snug against him, enough so that you could feel his thick and hard cock press against your ass.

“That why you had an attitude with me today? Needed me to fuck you? Fix that ache in your needy pussy?”

You breathed his name out as your brows furrowed and your eyes clenches closed. “Joel…” Your hand snapped on top of his over your crotch, forcing him to apply more pressure and squeeze.

“Need me to remind you that you’re mine?”, he growled before biting the crux of your neck and shoulder.

You nodded, breathing rapidly, then you let out a squeal as he shook your hand off his, then turned and shoved you against the wall. He got close and his hands made quick work in opening and shoving down your jeans. His eyes snapped up to yours and his hand dove between your legs.

“Fuck, baby…”, he sighed, eyes rolling back as he felt how wet you were. “My poor girl’s floodin’ the basement and it’s’all my fault.”

You grabbed his wrist, stabilizing yourself, and let whining pants out with each breath as his middle finger began to dip in an out of your hole. The tip of his thumb gently circled you’re aching clit.

“Yeah… I know I been neglectin’ you, baby girl… but not ‘cause of nothin’ you did… no, baby… you’re just keepin’ me too well fed and I’m fit to be tied by the time we get home… if I could fuck you the way you deserve every night…”

“Oh fuck… Joel, I need y –“

“But you always lettin’ me get away with being lazy an’watchin’ your perfect tits bounce while you fuck this fat old man…”, he rasped, his lids heavy as he watched your face contort in need. “Jesus, Darlin’, you got e’ry right to be cross with me…”

As much as you loved his voice, you needed more. Fisting his shirt, you pulled his face to yours and sucked him into a desperate and messy kiss, teeth and tongues colliding, and it was sharp and splitting. You didn’t need gentle – you needed him.

He finally pulled back, breathing heavily, same as you, and a grin tugged at his parted lips.

“Oh, Darlin’…”, he cooed, finger and thumb still working your cunt in tandem. He leaned in, ghosting his mouth over yours and asked in a voice so soft, you could have cried. “I need you to know how bad you got me, baby… tell me what I can do to prove it.”

Emboldened by his lust-blown eyes with heavy lids looking at you desperately, you put your hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle push down. A smile pulled at one side of his mouth, instantly understanding your silent request. He stepped back and groaned as he lowered himself down, joints cracking as he got on one knee, and he looked up as he pulled your jeans down further then helped you step out, one leg at a time. As he de-robed your second leg, he lifted it over his shoulder, and he scooted forward, and your eyes stayed trained on him, catching every detail, every twitch of his face as he breathed huskily and inhaled your scent. You watched his eyes flutter and roll back, like you were a buffet of fine cuisine, and he was a starved man. He pressed his nose in your crux and nudged in further, panting and swearing under his breath as he let your aroma and essence envelope him.

He took his time, as if he was making sure to catch every flavour, every note of your taste and smell, almost punishing himself for allowing you to feel unappreciated. His hands reached behind and pulled your hips forward into his face and you whimpered out a gasp as your shoulders planted against the wall behind you being the only thing keeping you upright.

“Joel…”, you breathed out, swallowing, trying to alleviate the dry mouth your open mouth breathing had caused. “Joel, please…”

He groaned into your warmth and opened his mouth, finally letting himself have a taste. His tongue licked out between your folds, starting slowly, but began to increase in intensity as he realized this was his favourite thing to savour. He grunted and panted as he lapped at you, his grip that held you so firmly to his face hurting you in the absolute best way possible.

Your fingers pulled his hair, aiding in keeping your core tightly affixed to his gaping maw, and you rocked your hip, mewling and crying out, begging him for more. Joel was in no position to deny you want you needed, not only because of the iron-clad connection currently created by both of your individual efforts, but he was eating his favourite thing. He’d denied you both for so long, he would happily suffocate between your thighs before ever taking a proper breath again if it paid the price of his sin. The noises he made as he ate and licked and devoured you sounded obscene - he sounded like a starved and feral dog, gnawing at a cut of meat tossed to him out of pity. You’re sure that if you saw his eyes, they’d be a black abyss like a shark’s as it bit down on its next meal.

The sounds he was ripping and peeling out of you were music to his ears, championing him further, pushing him harder to make you give him more of those delicious noises. He was rocking his hips in time with his mouth and tongue, letting his throbbing cock rut against the inside of his jean’s rough zipper. Between that, your taste and your fingers pulling his scalp taught with hair, he was in pure ecstasy.

He brought his hand attached to the shoulder your leg was propped up on and pushed two thick fingers into your core and began to pump them in and out - again, in time with his own hips’ rhythm. The white-hot burning coil that Joel had been slowly winding with his mouth finally sprung loose and snapped. You arched your back, silently screaming out as your body went rigid, and vaguely heard Joel growl. He continued to suck hard on your twitching and swollen clit and punched his fingers up into you as your rode out your orgasm. You heard liquid hitting the wood floor before you heard Joel let out a series of high-pitched groans.

His fingers slowed and his mouth was panting hot, quick breaths on your aching core. You looked down at him, chest heaving, to see him shakily pull his fingers from you and shove them in his mouth. Joel was a beautiful and carnal sight: breathing hard in grunts as he sucked his fingers clean. The act looked primitive, like he’d accessed his baser instincts, and he was satisfying a basic human need, a millennia in the making.

“Joel.”, you croaked, and he looked up at you with blurred eyes that slowly began to focus. He slowly pulled himself up, heaving his heavy belly. You helped him come back to his fully height and he leaned into you, pressing his forehead to yours. You could smell yourself on him as he kissed you softly before resuming your connection through foreheads.

“That was…”

“Yeah… fuck yeah… taste so good.”

“I wanna return the fav-“

Your hand cupped what you thought would be his hard cock, but stopped when you felt him softening and his jeans were warm and damp. You pulled your head back and looked at him, prompting a huffed laugh from Joel, pink flushing up his neck to his cheeks.

“You’re my favourite meal, Darlin’. You got me hooked.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

He pulled you away from the wall and onto the bed. He laid back and groaned as his spine relaxed. His full belly domed above him, moving gently up and down with each breath and you sat up, giving it a rub.

“You ate well tonight…”, you cooed, unbuckling his belt and opening his jean to access the mess he made.

He chuckled, supporting his head on an arm as he watched you with a grin. “Couldn’t help it… you serve food too good to not destroy myself on it, Darlin’.”

You shot him a look as you peeled back his damp and sticky underwear.

“Like I said, Darlin’…  you serve up a good meal.”

beef's glossary: The term "blue movie" is an old-fashioned slang term used to describe pornographic films, usually of the low budget variety.

TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @nerdieforpedro  @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@vabeachazn @clawdee @iamasaddie @tightjeansjavi@rubyfruitjungle@lilmizmoz @strang3lov3

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Summary: Thanksgiving brings back memories of happier times, and all you want is to recreate the past. But when those plans go awry, Eddie--and Harris, of course--are there to help you look forward to the future.

Warnings: mentions of Eddie's parents, brief familial conflict, Reader's grandma has dementia, most of this chapter is fluffy tbh

WC: 6.8k

Chapter 8/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @vexed-n-hexed Divider credit to @saradika

Thanksgiving, 1975

The sound of the kitchen timer beeping draws nine-year-old Eddie Munson’s attention from the television set. The local news network had been replaying the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on a loop. It was now the third time that Eddie had watched Santa Claus make his way into Herald Square in a comically oversized sleigh, but he couldn’t get enough of it. The colorful balloons that hovered over the crowd, the marching bands playing in perfect unison, the feeling of excitement in the air—it was palpable all the way from his new home in Hawkins, Indiana. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Wayne announces, grabbing the worn mitt off of the counter and pulling two TV dinners from the oven. “‘S not much, but at least we got turkey and mashed potatoes,” he bashfully adds. 

Eddie nods, trying to walk without taking his eyes off of the screen. 

Wayne’s bushy brows pinch together as he watches his nephew. “You always get this into the parade?” he asks. 

“Never seen it before,” Eddie says softly. His parents had had a TV for a couple of years until they’d pawned it, but he doesn’t recall ever watching a parade. “Pretty cool.”

“We can keep it on while we eat, if ya want,” Wayne tells him, smiling when he sees the boy’s face light up. He places the plastic trays on the snack table and heads back to grab forks. “Ya got a favorite balloon? I’m partial to Snoopy, if y’ask me.”

Eddie nods, still transfixed on the TV. “Yeah, Snoopy’s good. I like him.” He takes the utensil from Wayne’s outstretched hand, absentmindedly dipping it in the congealed mashed potatoes. He pauses for a beat before bringing it to his lips. “Do I have to go back?”

“Hm?” Wayne mumbles, too focused on his own food to fully hear him. 

“Do I have to go back with them when they get out?” Eddie repeats, keeping his voice low and training his gaze on the floor. “‘Cause I like it better here. With you. ‘S nice and quiet.”

There’s a lurch in Wayne’s chest at Eddie’s request. “Technically, I only have ya till your folks are sprung,” he admits, scratching a nail against the table, “but I can talk to a lawyer or somethin’ about keeping you here longer. Only if you want,” he adds. 

“I wanna stay here,” Eddie confirms, spearing a pale turkey slice and popping it in his mouth without any attempt to cut it. “If it’s okay with you. I can sleep on the cot an’ you can take your bed back.”

Wayne shakes his head. “Room’s yours, Ed.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t wanna promise you that the courts will agree to it, but I’m gonna try my damndest to keep you safe.” And it’s true. He’ll work double overtime at the plant if it’ll cover legal fees. When the social worker dropped Eddie off last week, Wayne had no idea how either of them would adjust. But aside from a few growing pains—like having to shave his nephew’s head when they’d discovered he’d had lice—things seemed to be alright. 

“I, um, I wrote something at school yesterday,” Eddie pipes up, traipsing to his backpack and pulling out a sheet of paper. In his sloppy, boyish handwriting is written:

I am thankful for my Uncle Wayne because he takes care of me. He’s really nice and he works hard and he doesn’t mind that I listen to loud music. He also lets me feed my dinner scraps to the stray dogs in his trailer park. My Uncle Wayne is the best. I hope he’s thankful for me, too. 

Wayne feels his throat constrict, and he clears it before Eddie can catch on. “‘Course I’m thankful for ya, Ed,” he manages. He reaches out to put his hand on his nephew’s back, flinching when the boy jerks away nervously. Eddie’s reflex to defend himself rather than embrace touch stirs up a reserved anger Wayne didn’t know he had, and he wills himself to simmer down before his nephew can sense it, lest he think he’s angry at him.  

He slowly brings his hand to the couch cushion, careful not to make too much noise. We’ll get there, he thinks as the parade starts up for a fourth time. We’ll get there. 

Thanksgiving, 1978

Ten years old is a strange age. 

Too old to play with the little kids, but too young to hang around the teenagers or adults. You’re just kind of…there, like a piece of furniture that everyone absently walks around. This hiss of beer cans opening is barely audible over the men shouting at the football game on TV. You don’t know who’s playing, and you don’t really care, but it’s the only place you feel like you’ll be out of the way. Taking a seat on the floor, you remain there generally unnoticed until one of your uncles calls out your name.

“Couldja get me a refill?” Uncle Tim slurs, shaking his empty can of Bud Light to emphasize his request. Before you can respond, he throws a, “thanks, kid” and goes back to yelling at the football players.

It’s not like they can hear you through the screen, you snidely think, but you keep your comment to yourself as you pad into the kitchen. A collection of spices tickles your nose, the mixture of cloves and garlic and thyme and rosemary warming the room. You rummage through the refrigerator until you feel someone bump up against you.

“What are you doing in there?” Your aunt asks, disapproval carving her already sharp features. Her gaze drops to the can in your hand. “Seriously? Trying to sneak beer right in front of us?” she scoffs. 

Grandma quickly becomes aware of the commotion, and she wipes her hand on her sunny yellow apron as she assesses the situation. “Everything okay?” Her soft eyes are concerned, not accusing, and you feel your anxiety slowly dissipating.

“I caught her trying to steal some beer,” your aunt reports proudly, as though she’s caught some serial offender, and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Not even a teenager yet and already getting into this kind of trouble.” She shakes her head with a tsk. 

“No, I wasn’t,” you insist, setting your jaw in defiance. “Uncle Tim asked me to get some more for him. That’s all.”

“Tim!” Grandma calls out, tone thick with irritation. “Get over here!”

 Uncle Tim trudges out to the kitchen, head already hung low in anticipation of the tongue-lashing he’s about to receive. He may be a grown man, but his mother can easily put him in his place.

Grandma folds her arms across her chest. “Why are you having your niece fetch your drinks like a barmaid? Your legs broken or something?”

“No,” he mumbles, taking the beer from your hand and haphazardly tossing a “sorry” in your direction before returning to the game.

“C’mere,” Grandma beckons you, crooking her finger to join her at the counter. She’s got a bowl of Granny Smith apples, half of them peeled, their green skins piling on the cutting board in front of her. She hands you the peeler, picking up a sharp knife and cutting a peeled apple lengthwise and cubing each slice. “Help me out. It goes a lot faster when there’s two of us. And it’ll keep you out of trouble,” she adds with a wink.

You grab an unpeeled apple from the pile and drag the tool down its curve, repeating the motion until the inner fruit is exposed before starting on the next one. You and Grandma work in tandem; you peel and she chops in a comfortable silence. As you’re finishing up the last of the bunch, she leans over and whispers in your ear, “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re the best helper I’ve ever had.” She starts placing the cubed pieces into a pot, shaking the cinnamon container over it until she takes a satisfied step back, no measuring spoon required. “Mix it together for me?” 

You nod eagerly and pluck the wooden spoon from the canister behind the sink, dunking it into the pot and stirring until the apples are fully coated in cinnamon. “That good?” you ask, giving another stir for good measure.

“Perfect.” Grandma smiles, covering the mixture with water and setting it on an empty burner, twisting the knob until the coil turns red. “Once it softens up, you can mash it. Give these old arms a break,” she teases gently.

“You’re not old!” you protest, and she smacks a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you, kiddo,” she murmurs, voice muffled against your scalp. “To the moon and back.”

You wrap your arms around her waist and squeeze her tight. “I love you, too. To the moon and back.”

Thanksgiving, 1996

“Daddy, look! It’s Santa!” Harris points at the TV excitedly, bouncing up and down on the couch. He kicks his feet and squeals. “He’s gonna come to our house, right? An’ bring me presents?”

Eddie chuckles as he spreads mayonnaise on white bread, layering thin turkey slices on top. Three sandwiches for three Munsons. “I dunno, Har-Bear; have you been good this year?” 

Harris scrunches up his face in contemplation. “Um, I think so,” he answers honestly. “I can’t remember.”

“Hey, Wayne?” Eddie calls out as his uncle walks out of the bathroom. “Has Harris been good this year? I feel like he’s been a bit…mischievous.”

Wayne shakes his head. “My angel of a grandson? He’s never caused mischief a day in his little life!” He sits down next to Harris, letting out a small grunt as his bottom hits the sofa cushion. 

“Yeah! I never cause mischief a day in my little life!” Harris echoes confidently. He turns to his grandfather. “Grampa, what is Santa gonna bring you for Christmas?”

“A toupée,” Eddie says from the tiny kitchen, piling their plates with potato chips. Normally, he’d make sure there was a fruit or vegetable on there, but it’s a holiday. 

Wayne has to hold his tongue in front of the impressionable young boy, though he shoots Eddie an inconspicuous middle finger when he’s setting the plates on the coffee table. 

The three Munsons tuck into their sandwiches and crunch on the chips. This is how Thanksgiving has been since Eddie moved back with Harris: watching the parade followed by an early lunch so Wayne could pick up a shift at the plant. He always insisted on it, saying that the holiday pay helps offset the cost of Christmas presents. It was quiet, but nice, and Eddie couldn’t ask for anything else.

“Y’know,” Wayne says to Harris with a mouthful of sandwich, “the first time your Daddy watched the parade was with me. And now, we got to watch it with you.” He bumps his arm against Harris’s, making the boy giggle. 

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie muses, chomping on a potato chip thoughtfully as the memories flood back in. “Forgot about that. Is Snoopy still your favorite, Old Man?” 

Wayne considers this. “Hmm. Who’s our favorite balloon this year, Har?”

“Clifford!” Harris answers without missing a beat, kicking his little legs in excitement. Eddie should’ve known; the boy was damn near obsessed with dogs.

Once we can afford a house with a yard, I’m getting you that puppy, Har-Bear, he thinks, though he doesn’t dare make the promise aloud.

“Then that’s mine, too.” Wayne brushes the crumbs off of his lap, calloused hands scratching the worn denim of his jeans. There’s a twinkle in his eye as he adds, “I wonder what Ms. Sweetheart’s favorite balloon is.” He acts like he’s speaking to Harris, but Eddie knows it was aimed at him.

Harris claps his hands together gleefully. “I know! Let’s call her!” He turns to Eddie with the sweetest puppy-dog eyes the man has ever seen, lower lip jutted out exaggeratedly in the most precious pout. “Please, Daddy? Pleasepleasepleaseplease–”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says with a laugh, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Once you finish up lunch, we can call her.” Harris opens his mouth to protest that he wants to call right now, but Eddie cuts him off before he can start. “Ah ah; no whining, or we won’t call.”

Harris harrumphs but ultimately complies, taking another bite of his food. Wayne gives Eddie a small thumbs-up, and he preens slightly at the acknowledgment of his parenting win. They didn’t happen very often, and they rarely happened when someone was around to witness them. He takes a long gulp of water; as soon as he does, his son lifts his own cup to his lips and takes a sip. Another reminder that he’s watching, even subconsciously, wanting to be just like his dad.

For a split second, Eddie allows himself to believe that that might not be a bad thing.

“‘M done!” Harris chirps; sure enough, his plate is clean, save for the bread crusts. He squirms a bit in his seat, a gesture that Eddie has come to learn means only one thing.

“Go pee while I find her number,” Eddie tells him, purposely omitting the fact that he’s already committed those seven digits to memory. In case of an emergency, he thinks, and I don’t have the slip of paper on me.

Wayne can sense that his nephew isn’t being completely truthful; as soon as Harris closes the bathroom door behind him, he starts in with a shit-eating grin.

“Y’don’t need to find her number, do ya?”

Eddie flicks off an imaginary speck of dust on his shirts. “Knock it off, Wayne.” But he doesn’t move from his spot on the couch, further affirming his uncle’s point.

“Look, Ed,” Wayne exhales, adopting a more serious tone. “You clearly like this girl. I mean, all Harris did was say her name and you smiled–don’t give me that look,” he chastises lightly when Eddie rolls his eyes. “I know you two didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, but all that seems to be in the past now, right?”

“Guess so,” Eddie mumbles. “But not hating me doesn’t mean she’s into me. Maybe she’s only being nice to me because of Harris.”

The older Munson pauses, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks; his reflex when he’s deep in thought. “One date,” he challenges, holding up his forefinger to emphasize his point. “Ask her on one date, and see where it goes.”

“Fine,” Eddie relents, the nerves already churning in his stomach. You’d just found this good rhythm together, and he was going to risk messing it up. Again. “I’ll ask her. But on one condition.”

“Whas’ that?”

“Don’t say anything to Harris.” He crosses his arms over his chest when Wayne chuckles. “‘M serious, Wayne. I don’t want him getting his hopes up. For Chrissakes, I gave her a tape and the kid had us getting married.”

“Fair enough,” Wayne agrees, clamping his mouth shut when he sees the little boy enter the room. “You wash your hands?”

“Yep!”

“With soap?” he presses, narrowing his eyes.

Harris heaves an impatient sigh. “Yes! Can we call now?”

Both Wayne and Harris keep their eyes glued to Eddie as he punches in the numbers. When it starts ringing, he holds out the receiver to his son. “Say hi and your name when she picks up,” he reminds him, grateful for the opportunity to collect himself before asking you on a date. He takes a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pockets and gnawing on his lower lip so forcefully that he swears it might bleed.

You got this, Munson. The worst she can say is no.

But that’s not quite true, is it? The worst you can do is laugh in his face, leaving him a rejected mess. Scratch that–the worst you could do is accept the date, have him fall head over heels in love with you, then leave him in the dust to pick up the pieces while you move on with someone better. 

Maybe you won’t pick up the phone. Maybe he’ll have more time to–

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!”

It was a small thing. Miniscule, even. Just your meager attempt at reclaiming part of the past that had been lost to time and disease. A simple family recipe, apples boiled and mashed into a sauce that you’d hoped even vaguely resembled the way Grandma made it. A tiny cut on your fingertip serves as a battle wound from peeling, the sweet aroma of cinnamon still lingering in the kitchen.

You try to convince yourself that it isn’t a big deal. It’s just applesauce. But the thought falls flat as you stare into the trash can. You can still see all of your work literally tossed away through the tears that blur your vision.

You’d left the room for two minutes, two goddamn minutes, and when you came back, the plastic pink bowl that held the applesauce was nowhere to be found. You could’ve sworn you left it on the counter, but maybe you’d already put it away? A quick scan of the refrigerator gave you nothing but a chill. Where the hell did it go? Were you losing your mind?

A rogue apple peel had fallen to the floor, and you scooped it up, flustered at how you could have misplaced an entire bowl of applesauce. Sure, it wasn’t as much as when you and Grandma made it for the whole family, but it was still a decent amount. Your foot presses the pedal that lifts the bin’s lid, and that’s when you see it.

“Grandma?” you choke out, looking over to where she’s sitting on the couch. She doesn’t respond, and you raise your voice a bit to grab her attention. “Grandma, why did you throw out the applesauce?”

Her empty gaze briefly flits over to where you’re standing, not even registering the burgeoning frustration and sadness coursing through your veins. “Wasn’t me,” she says flatly, scratching at the side of her nose with a jagged nail. Before dementia, her nails were always painted bright hues of red or blue; now, it was difficult enough to get her to leave the house for essential doctor’s appointments. You weren’t going to put up a fight trying to get her to the salon.

You know you should just close the lid and walk away instead of torturing yourself by continuing to look, but your feet are glued to the linoleum floor. A cold drop of something lands on your toes, and that’s when you realize that you’re crying. Crying over goddamn applesauce.

All you wanted was some semblance of normalcy, something reminiscent of life before Grandma got sick and your family still felt whole. But what you got was a thickening realization that you can’t relive the past, no matter how hard you try.

The ringing phone startles you from your wallowing. You have half a mind to ignore it, but you know that Grandma will just grumble about how she hates the sound of it, so you pick up the receiver and answer with a shaky, “H-Hello?”

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!” A little voice chirps through the other end. You can hear Eddie mumbling something, though you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. “Happy Thanksgiving! What’s your favorite balloon?” There’s more hushed speaking from Eddie, and Harris huffs out, “Daddy, stop! I know what to say!” 

“My favorite balloon from the parade?” you ask, biting back a giggle. 

“Mhm! I like Clifford,” he tells you.

You’d kept the parade on in the background, catching glimpses of it every now and again. Shit, what balloons did you see? “Clifford’s a good one,” you agree, “but I think the Rocky and Bullwinkle one was my favorite.”

Harris laughs so loudly that you have to pull the phone from your ear. “The squirrel and the moose?” he guffaws. “Ms. Sweetheart, that’s so silly!” You’re about to ask him how his holiday is going when he says, “Hold on, my daddy wants to talk to you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the prospect of talking to Eddie, and you wipe the tears from your wet cheeks as though he’ll be able to see them through the phone.

“Hey, Happy Thanksgiving!” he says. Something resembling trepidation tinges his tone, though you’re not sure why. Could he still be anxious to approach you after he confided in you at the parent-teacher conference? After he’d watched you panic when Grandma locked herself in her room?

You swallow, trying to choke down the sadness rising within you. “Yeah, y-you, too.” Despite your best efforts, your voice breaks on the last word, and you hope Eddie doesn’t catch it.

But of course he does.

“You okay?” he asks with a nervous chuckle. “‘Cause it kinda sounds like you’re crying.”

“‘M fine. Just, um, chopping onions,” you lie, hoping you’ve done a convincing job.

“For the…applesauce you’re making?” Eddie sees right through you; you’d forgotten that you’d told him and Harris about your plan during your weekly post-tutoring dinner last night. “Not gonna lie, that sounds even nastier than olives on pizza.”

You manage a laugh, but it’s disfigured by the catch in your throat. “The applesauce was a bust, unfortunately,” you admit. “I left the kitchen for a second and Grandma chucked it in the trash.”

“All of it?” he asks incredulously, letting out a deep exhale when you confirm that she did, in fact, throw out the entire bowl. “Jesus H. I’m so sorry. Is that what’s got you upset?”

“Mhm. I know it’s stupid, ‘s just applesauce, but–”

“‘S not stupid,” Eddie interrupts softly, and you twist the phone cord around your pointer finger with the sudden drop of his tone. “I know you were really looking forward to it.” He pauses, and you wonder for a moment if the line’s gone dead before he says, “We’re coming over. Me and Harris. Be there in twenty; fifteen, if I don’t have to argue with him about wearing a jacket.”

Before you can protest, he really does hang up. You look down at the baggy sweats and college t-shirt you’re wearing; you weren’t expecting any guests today, let alone the Munson boys. You should probably throw on some actual pants, and a bit of mascara couldn’t hurt, either.

You find a pair of jeans that aren’t buried under a mountain of laundry and tug them over your thighs before quickly swiping some makeup on your face. It’s enough to mask your exhaustion while still looking natural.

It dawns on you that you’re not quite sure why you suddenly care so much about your appearance. Harris couldn’t care less, and Eddie…well, even if Eddie did care, why would that matter to you? He’s your tutee’s parent; a new friend at most. On more than one occasion, you’ve answered the door to Jess with a wicked case of bedhead. Why does Eddie Munson of all people make you feel the need to look halfway decent?

When the buzzer sounds, you nearly jump out of your own skin. “It’s us,” Eddie says into the speaker; the smoothness of his voice has your stomach in knots. “And we come bearing gifts. Well, one gift, I guess.”

“Fuck off,” Grandma mumbles from the couch, cranking up the TV volume to an ungodly loud level. One of the Law & Order detectives says–no, screams–something about a murder, and you quickly reach for the remote and click the power button.

“We have company,” you tell her, and she just grunts in response. Hopefully her mood will change in the minute it will take Eddie and Harris to get to your apartment. You can hear them down the hallway, so you open the door just as they’re about to knock.

Eddie takes a step back in surprise. “You psychic or somethin’?” he laughs, looking down at his son and giving him a small nudge. “Go ahead, you can give it to her.”

Your gaze drops to the curly-haired boy standing by his father’s side. He’s holding a brightly colored package of off-brand Oreos, which he brings closer to his chest, pressing it tightly against his zippered sweatshirt. “It’s s’posed to be a surprise,” he reminds Eddie, wide-eyed with genuine concern.

“Only until we got here,” Eddie says gently, soft brown eyes encouraging Harris to hand you the cookies. He brings his attention back to you. “I know it’s not the same as making applesauce with your grandma, but I’ve never been sad eating an Oreo. An oatmeal raisin cookie, maybe. But not an Oreo.”

Now it’s your turn to smile. “You may be onto something here, Munson.” You take the package from Harris and guide the two of them to the kitchen, calling out to Grandma as you pass by. “Grandma, Eddie and Harris are here, and they brought cookies, if you wanna join us.” Her non-response is familiar at this point; the sting is much easier to brush off than it was a few short months ago. But you still feel it.

Even though Grandma isn’t at the table, Harris still climbs onto his dad’s lap. “Daddy, can I have one?” he asks, resting his dimpled chin on his palms as he glances upwards.

“Gotta ask Ms. Sweetheart,” Eddie shrugs, tickling Harris’s ribs and loudly whispering, “and ask her if your poor, hungry dad can have one, too. She can’t say no to you.”

You open the package and shake your head at his antics, sliding out the flimsy tray and offering it to them. “Of course you can have one, Harris,” you say, tone saccharine sweet. His chubby fingers darting out and snatching up a cookie before you even finish your sentence. “But I don’t know about your dad. Do you think he should get one?”

“C’mon, Har,” Eddie urges him, “us men gotta stick together. All for one and one for all, right?” He flexes his bicep; it’s an attempt to emphasize the manliness that supposedly bonds him and Harris, but the gesture has your breath catching in your throat. You sputter and cough embarrassingly, excusing yourself to pour a glass of water. 

“Anyone else want?” you manage once you can speak again, holding up the ceramic pitcher. 

Eddie nods, lifting Harris from his lap and placing him on the nearest empty chair. “Here, let me help you.” He stands up and calls out over his shoulder, “Grandma, how about some water?”

You’re about to tell him not to worry about it, but to your surprise, she nods. “Ya.”

“So, four waters,” Eddie reports, taking the pitcher and refilling your glass. 

You grab another just like it from the cabinet before taking two blue disposable ones, plopping a bendy straw in each. “Grandma, um, she needs stuff that isn’t breakable,” you explain lamely. “And the other plastic one is for Harris.”

Eddie grins. “Thought it was for me. Y’know, always making a mess.”

“Ah, but only of your life,” you tease. “You’re pretty good with basic human functions.” Your face burns at what you’ve potentially implied, but Eddie isn’t fazed. 

“Y’know what? I’m gonna take my cookies back!” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest in mock-indignance. A piece of curly hair sticks to his lower lip with his sudden movement, and you brush it away with your thumb before you can stop yourself. 

The crinkling of the fake-Oreo package draws both of your gazes, with Eddie poised to tell Harris that he’s only allowed one more. But to your surprise—and perhaps Eddie’s, too—Harris isn’t the one rifling through the tray. Grandma’s taken a seat next to the boy, handing him a cookie before taking her own. She just nibbles on it in silence, but it’s the most present she’s been in days. 

“Y’like Oreos, Grandma?” Eddie asks, pouring water into the two plastic glasses and carrying one in each ringed hand. He places them on the table, and Grandma brings the straw to her lips as she nods again. He pauses for a moment, lips tucked into his mouth as he ponders something. “What kind of music does she listen to?” he asks you. 

“She has a record collection over in the living room,” you tell him, pointing to the low bookshelf near the door, “but we haven’t played any in awhile. She’s kinda…weird with noises.”

He considers this, walking over to the records and thumbing through them until he finds one that he recognizes. “Could I put this one on?” He holds up the battered copy of Frank Sinatra’s It Might As Well Be Swing. “I’ll take it off if she gets upset. I just wanna try something.” He carefully slides the record from its sleeve, lifting the player’s needle and placing it on the space for the first track. 

There’s a soft static as the record starts to spin, and Ol’ Blue Eyes croons: 

Fly me to the moon

Let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On a-Jupiter and Mars

Eddie joins in with the next part. His voice still carries its signature rasp, but it’s noticeably smoother, warmer than the night he’d dedicated the Def Leppard song to you. 

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, baby, kiss me

His eyes remain trained on the record player, but you swear you can feel the lyrics drifting towards you. The melody wraps around you like a hug, and you momentarily lose yourself in a musical embrace. 

Another voice, low and timid, chimes in. You have to stifle a gasp when you realize that it’s Grandma, her lips curling into the smallest of smiles–the most joy she’s shown in a long while–as she half-sings the words. 

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing for ever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, and before you can exhale the third syllable, the world shifts back to normal. Grandma goes back to mindlessly munching on her cookie as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. You turn to Eddie. “What was that?”

He shrugs, suddenly feeling shy. “I read somewhere that music can, like, bring back some memories. Not permanently or anything, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

You can’t stop yourself from flinging your arms around Eddie’s neck, nearly knocking him over in the process. He pauses before he returns the gesture, pulling you tightly into him. One hand is on the small of your back; the other gently rests on the back of your head, allowing you to rest your forehead on his chest. Your tears flow freely, leaving tiny wet spots on his shirt. He doesn’t let go until you start to pull back. 

“Thank you,” you whisper; when he pinches his brows in confusion, you elaborate. “You gave me back a little piece of who she was before…” you trail off, swiping at your cheeks messily. “Just…thank you.”

Eddie nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. His eyes are practically glued to your lips; this time, when his fingers brush against your palm, he hooks his pinky with yours. “‘Course,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure how long the two of you remain linked like this, joined hands swaying ever-so-slightly as Fly Me to the Moon fades out to I Wish You Love. It’s somewhere between ten seconds and ten years, because time seemingly slows to a halt. 

You might stay with pinkies hooked forever if Harris doesn’t bolt from his chair, hugging your waist and looking up at you with concern. 

“Ms. Sweetheart?” he asks. His wide, misty eyes indicate that he’s absorbed some of the emotion in the room, though he may not even be aware of this. “Why are you sad?” His chubby fingers grab onto the fabric of your pants.

You choke out a tearful laugh as you crouch down to meet him at his level. “I’m not sad…well, I’m sad and happy at the same time,” you try to explain, shaking your head when you realize you’re only adding to his puzzlement. “Grown-up feelings are weird sometimes, Har. But your hugs definitely help.”

With that, he squeezes you tighter, and you glance at Eddie with a full heart. He takes a step forward, scooping up Harris. You worry that you’ve crossed a line, that you’ve shown too much of your vulnerability to a four-year-old, but your fears are subdued when Eddie extends one arm and brings you back to both him and his son. Something brushes against your scalp, and you realize that he’s pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. 

Harris squirms, and when Eddie puts him down, he runs over to the TV set. “Can I watch something?” It’s clear that the moment has passed, and Eddie throws you an apologetic shrug as he waits for your response.

“Sure,” you say, trying to pepper cheerfulness into your voice. It’s easier now that the wave of loneliness has passed, taking with it some of the mourning you’d clung to earlier today. You click on the TV and flip through channels until a familiar cartoon appears on the screen. “I think we’re just in time to watch A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving!” you exclaim, and Harris mirrors your enthusiasm by flinging himself onto the couch, making his dad cringe.

“Careful, little dude,” Eddie says, clicking off the record player and gently placing the vinyl back in its sleeve. “You just got that cast off a few days ago. Don’t need you to break another bone.” Certainly don’t need another hospital bill, he thinks bitterly. He takes the spot next to Harris, silently begging you to join them. 

You turn to the kitchen table and put a hand on Grandma’s shoulder. “You wanna watch Charlie Brown with us?” But she rejects your invitation with a simple shake of her head, mumbling something about being tired and padding into her room. 

You take the empty space to Harris’s left so that the boy is sandwiched between you and his father. He’s a small kid, but it seems like there’s an entire ocean separating you and Eddie. 

“Why’s Lucy so mean?” Harris asks no one in particular. “She’s always yelling. Like Ms. Marion.” You have to stifle a giggle at that observation, and when you allow yourself a glance, you see that Eddie’s doing the same. 

The first half of the movie is filled with Harris’s constant commentary; he speaks more than all of the cartoon characters combined. But he tires out eventually, though in typical four-year-old fashion, he denies his sleepiness even as he’s yawning. He fights it pretty well, you’ve got to give him credit where it’s due, but eventually, the exhaustion takes over and he lays his head on your arm. His curls tickle your elbow, and you gingerly reposition him so he’s tucked up against your side. 

“You can move him over, if you get uncomfortable or somethin’. Kid sleeps like a rock. Except, y’know, when I need him to sleep.” Eddie snickers as Harris lets out the softest, tiniest snore. 

You return the laughter and shake your head. “Nah, I’m good,” you reassure him, smiling at the ruddy cheek pressed against you. “Don’t tell my other students, but Harris is the cutest kid ever.”

Eddie shrugs, but you can tell that the compliment tickles him. “Well, it makes sense, since his dad is a total stud.” He waggles his eyebrows before turning his attention back to Charlie and Lucy. You’re not quite sure how to respond to that; if you play it off as a joke, you risk hurting his feelings. If you tell him the truth–

“D’you like coffee?”

His sudden, seemingly arbitrary question snaps you from your indecision. “I teach four-year-olds,” you reply lightheartedly, hoping he can’t sense your mind continuing to linger on his stud comment. “I practically have coffee running through my veins. What about you?”

“I have a four-year-old, so, same.” He clears his throat, seemingly double-checking that his son is still sound asleep. His leg is bouncing up and down, and he nearly has to press on his knee to get it to stop. “Um, Harris is going to a birthday party next Saturday morning if you wanted to get some with me? Get some coffee, I mean.” He silently chastises himself, wondering if he’d ever been suave around women or if it had just been the unearned confidence of a young man in his early twenties convincing him that he had. 

“Like...like a date?” Fuck, do you sound too eager? “Because if you feel like you owe me a date after…after our night at the bar, you don’t have to. I forgave you after you gave me those M&Ms, remember?”

“Yeah…wait, no. Hold on.” Eddie holds up his pointer finger as he collects his thoughts. He could deny that it’s a date altogether and throw out some bullshit lie about it just being something between friends. But he promised Wayne, promised himself that he’d give this a shot.  “Yes, I’m asking you on a date. No, it’s not because I feel like I owe you one–although I definitely do,” he adds with a goofy grin that sends flutters to your stomach. “It’s because, fuck, I can’t stop thinking about you, and how happy you make me–and Harris, too–and how I get kinda nervous around you, which makes no sense because you’re, like, the nicest fuckin’ person ever. Oh my God, why can’t I stop talking?”

“Eddie.” The way you say his name is like a song he could replay forever. “I’d really like to get coffee with you. I just need to see if someone can watch Grandma…maybe Jess,” you surmise, biting back the fact that you’ll have to withhold your date’s name, lest she subject you to a lecture about sleeping with the enemy.

Eddie nods, swiping the tip of his tongue over his lower lip and smiling. “I can pick you up at noon? If Jess can watch Grandma, of course.”

“Noon works.” You want to kiss him right then and there; if Harris wasn’t nestled in the middle of you both, you might not hold back. “I can let you know on Wednesday when we have dinner together.”

Eddie’s not sure he can wait that long for an answer. What if you’re just buying time to get out of it? What if you’re only being nice to him because you’re afraid that he’ll get angry again and reignite the bitter feud you’d been locked in just a month ago? He swallows the insecurities, gaze flickering to your eyes.

And maybe it’s because you can sense his unease and self-doubt, or maybe it’s because you genuinely want to–Eddie doesn’t know for sure–but he feels you lace your fingers with his, resting your joined hands on his thigh. He shifts his grasp to weave them tighter together, learning back into the couch and allowing his body to relax. His shoulders let go of tension he hadn’t realized he was holding on to, and a contented sigh slips from his lips.

It’s you, him, and Harris. Sitting on the sofa and watching a holiday movie. An unconventional little family, but a family all the same. Eddie swears that he could stay like this forever, a thought that almost has him bursting out in laughter. The same man who had concocted an elaborate method to keep women around without actually committing to them was now reveling in domestic bliss. 

When the movie ends and Harris begins to rouse, Eddie begrudgingly stands with an exaggerated groan. “These old bones, y’know,” he laments with a mischievous click of his tongue. “Everything starts fallin’ apart when you turn thirty.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, lifting Harris onto his hip and rubbing his back to help him fall back to sleep. “I know.” He grabs his keys from the shelf near the door as you walk them out. And before he can wimp out, he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss, stubble scratching against your skin. His hands are trembling when he pulls away.

“You’re the best,” he repeats the same statement he’d made on parent-teacher conference night. It’s even more true now than it was then. “We’ll see you on Wednesday for pizza?” And an answer, hopefully a ‘yes.’ “Wednesday,” you echo, still processing the fact that, for the second time today, Eddie Munson’s lips have been on you.

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[cameronspecial]

Traitor

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Summary: Drew and Y/N have different tastes in food and he is hoping that Sam will have the same taste as him.

Masterlist

Drew loves that Y/N can stay at home to take care of their three-year-old. She was a little hesitant when she suggested quitting her job to do so, but she wasn’t satisfied with her work and she needed some time to think about an alternate career choice. It turns out, that being at home with their son is where she finds fulfillment and Drew is so happy that his wife is finally happy with what she is doing. It allows her to cook more which she loves to do, especially since she is a picky and high-maintenance eater. Y/N can sometimes come off as a food snob because she sometimes has the standards of food that is homemade or expensive; however, it comes with the territory of being the daughter of a chef, who insists on practically making every meal for his family. It doesn’t mean that she doesn’t let her family eat fast food or store-bought snacks; she is a victim of eating McDonald’s or goldfish in her car like everyone else. She simply prefers making her macaroni and cheese with gruyere, asiago and fontina cheese. Or she would rather eat a sausage with mashed potatoes than an American hot dog. If there is one thing that reminds Rafe of the different social classes that he and his wife grew up in, it would be the food she now cooks for him. While the meals she cooks are exquisite, he is so grateful she isn’t one of those parents who doesn’t allow the family to eat anything processed because that means he can introduce Sam to his favourite childhood snack. 

Y/N has finally given Drew the go-ahead to let Sam try an uncrustable. He understands he had to wait so long to share this experience with his son because peanut butter is a choking hazard for children under four. He hopes his toddler will love them as much as he does. Drew tried to share his favourite snack with the love of his wife; however, she said they just tasted like a regular sandwich. It disappointed him a little. He even bought the Nutella version of an uncrustable because she hates peanut butter. 

“Sammy, lunch,” Drew calls to his son, placing the plate with two sandwiches and vegetables onto the table. Rapid thudding approaches the dining room and the father points to the bathroom. The little boy sighs and turns to go wash his hands. After rewashing his hands while singing the alphabet, Sam jumps into the chair in excitement. His grin drops at the sight of the circular bread in front of him. He spots the same food on his dad’s plate and watches the older man eat it with a smile. Not sure what to make of the new food, the four-year-old hesitantly picks up the uncrustable and sniffs it. “What this?” he questions, holding the sandwich out to his dad. Drew takes another bite out of his food, “That, Sammy, is a peanut butter and jelly uncrustable. Try it. You’ll like it.” The boy looks uncertain, yet still does as his father advises. The smile doesn’t turn into a grin as he chews on the food. In fact, his mouth turns into disgust and he places his lunch onto the plate, pushing it toward Drew. “Yucky,” he complains, reaching to nibble on a carrot. The actor frowns, “Come on, you only had one bite. Why don’t you take another?” As Sam considers the question, his mother comes in with a brie, apple and turkey sandwich. This piques his interest and he makes a grabby motion towards the fancier food. Not one to deny her child lunch, she slides her plate over and both parents observe as he devours half of the sandwich. 

Y/N can see a pout on her husband’s face and pulls him in so his head is against her chest. “He’s a little traitor,” Drew grumbles, picking up his son's unfinished snack to finish. She giggles, “I’m sorry, Baby. Maybe you can have this bonding experience with our next child.” He jerks away from her, staring her dead in the eyes to make sure he understands what she is hinting at. 

“We are going to have another baby?”

“We are going to have another baby.”

He cheers at the confirmation and picks her up, spinning her around before they both get dizzy. “I can feel it. I’m going to be fighting this baby for the last uncrustable. I can feel it,” he predicts with his hand on her stomach. She brushes his hair off his forehead, “I bet they will and then you wouldn’t be surrounded by traitors.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

[lilacmingi]

NIFFLER NABBING

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Slytherin!Mingi x Hufflepuff!fem reader

Word count: 5,861

Note: Reminder that this is an imagine from my Wattpad from 2023 so there will not be extra parts or continuations

Mingi pushed his food around on his plate, eyes fixed on the peas that rolled across the saucer and into his mashed potatoes.

"Mingi?" You inquired softly, tapping your index finger on the table to gain his attention.

He blinked a few times, looking up at you with those heart-melting sparkly brown eyes of his.

"Hm?" He hummed.

"What's got you so distracted? You've barely touched your steak. It's your favorite."

"I was just thinking."

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

He hummed, nodding his head.

"Then, what's weighing on your mind?"

"What if I end up as an evil wizard?" He questioned worriedly. "Most of the bad wizards are from Slytherin."

Your expression softened and settled into a gentle smile as you let out a chortle. "Mingi, you don't have anything to worry about."

"That's easy for you to say. You're in one of the nicest houses in Hogwarts."

"Your house doesn't define you, you know. For instance, you. You're so friendly and kind to everyone you meet. Slytherins aren't always mean."

He blinked a few times, his eyes shimmering as he took in every word you said.

"You know, I've come across some awfully mean Hufflepuffs."

His eyes became wide at this.

"Really?"

"Mhm." You nodded. "Some meaner than any Slytherin I've met."

"Ah." His brows raised. "That makes me feel better."

"Good." You gave a nod of finality before finishing your meal.

You waited patiently for Mingi to eat, sipping on the remainder of your drink until he was done.

"Ah." You sighed contently as the both of you left the dining hall. "Nothing like a good meal to end the day."

"Yeah." Mingi agreed.

Your gaze moved to the windows of the school seeing the evening sky outside. Classes were over for the day and this was usually when students would go to their respective dormitories and hang out in the common room or spend time in the study hall, but you wanted to do something with Mingi. You thought back to what he had said just a few minutes ago at dinner about being a Slytherin. Though your words seemed to bring some comfort and relief to him, you felt he needed something else to cheer him up.

"Hey, I know something we could do." You spoke up as an idea popped into your head.

There was one thing that was 100% guaranteed to cheer Mingi up.

"What?"

"We could stop by Hagrid's hut to see what new creatures he's taking care of."

Mingi's eyes lit up, glimmering with excitement as he nodded vigorously. "Let's go!"

With his confirmation, the two of you took off across the quad and exited the area, waking together across the school grounds. Hagrid's hut was just a small, dark lump in the distance as he lived quite a ways away from the castle.

"You remember those things we learned about in our care of magical creatures class? Ah. What are they called?" You murmured. "Oh! Mooncalves. Do you think Hagrid will be caring for any of those?"

"I hope so. The pictures in our textbooks look so cute. I'd love to see one in person." Mingi gushed.

You approached the small hut, giving a knock on the weathered wood of the front door, watching as plumes of smoke escaped the chimney meaning Hagrid was home.

The door swung open moments later revealing the jovial half-giant, but before he could even greet you, his dog, Fang, came running by his feet, jumping up to greet you and Mingi.

"Fang!" You cooed, scratching the massive dog's ears, his droopy face looking too cute.

"Hey kiddos." Hagrid greeted once Fang had calmed down. "What brings you here?"

"It's the end of the day and Mingi and I wanted to see if you had any new creatures you were taking care of." You told him, rocking back and forth on your heels in anticipation.

A small grin pulled at Hagrid's features.

"I just got a new little fella yesterday, actually. Would you like to see him?"

"Yes, please!" You and Mingi both piped up, speaking at the same time.

Hagrid gave a hearty chuckle before stepping aside. "Well, come on in, then."

The two of you entered his cozy hut, both looking around trying to find this so-called "little fella."

"You two are excited, aren't ya?"

You and Mingi nodded vigorously, earning a chuckle from him.

"Alright." He sighed out, rummaging in a corner where a basket sat. Hagrid pulled a cloth off the top of the weaved container and reached inside. "Well, here he is."

When he turned around he was cradling a small creature in his arms, which was curled in on itself slightly.

Both you and Mingi let out gasps in response.

"A niffler." Mingi squeaked.

"That it is." Hagrid nodded. "You don't have any jewelry on, do you?"

"No sir." You shook your head along with Mingi.

"Good. This guy goes crazy for that stuff."

"Yes, we know. He's so adorable though, you can't help but wanna give him shiny stuff." You cooed.

"It's very tempting, but as soon as he sees something shiny he goes mad and won't stop until he has whatever eye-catching object grabbed his attention. And catching one of these is no easy task. Newt Scamander, the author of yer textbook Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them, had a niffler along with many other creatures and one of these guys got out. Ended up in a jewelry store stuffing his pouch with gold and silver."

Your eyes widened along with Mingi's.

"Really?"

Hagrid nodded.

"What happened?" Mingi inquired. "Did he catch the niffler?"

"He did, but it was difficult."

Your gaze moved to the creature still tucked in Hagrid's arms. He noticed your eyes lingering on the niffler, prompting him to hold the little guy out to you.

"Would you like to hold him?"

You nodded eagerly, gingerly taking the creature, cradling him in your arms. Mingi leaned over your shoulder to watch, slowly bringing his hand up to run along the niffler's tummy. He stretched out in your arms in response to Mingi's affectionate actions making you chuckle.

"He likes that." You commented.

"You can brush him if you'd like." Hagrid spoke up.

Mingi nodded eagerly as Hagrid handed him a small oval brush. He began running the bristled object along the niffler's tummy until he rolled over in your arms, allowing Mingi to brush along his back, his eyelids slowly drooping.

"He's closing his eyes." You whispered. "I think he's about to fall asleep."

Mingi's endearing giggles reached your ears, the sound making your heart do flips. He's the biggest softie you'd ever met and everything he does makes you melt. His sweet personality was a big contrast from his deep voice and six foot tall stature. On the outside he (sometimes) looks intimidating but he's really just a big softie who loves to give hugs and gets scared easily.

The both of you moved over to sit on the couch in Hagrid's quaint and cozy hut, Mingi continuing to brush the fuzzy niffler that was slowly starting to doze off in your arms. The atmosphere was pleasant as you watched the little creature's eyes slide shut, the sound of the cracking fire filling the air.

"Can I offer you two somethin' to drink? I can put a pot of tea on." Hagrid offered.

You and Mingi shared a glance before nodding.

He got to work placing a kettle of water over the fire to boil while you continued watching the niffler in your arms. Being close with Hagrid had its perks, one being moments like these where you could spend your free time caring for any creatures that he happened to have.

Mingi's eyes glimmered with unadulterated joy, a toothy grin plastered on his face while gingerly stroking the niffler's back with the brush.

Hagrid poured you both a cup of steaming hot tea, placing them on the wooden table by the couch. When the warm beverages were served, Mingi stopped what he was doing and took a sip of the tea while you did your best to reach for your cup without waking the snoozing niffler curled up in your lap.

You thanked the kind half-giant for the beverage before giving it a taste, offering him a thumbs up in response.

You and Mingi stayed long enough to finish your tea and chat with Hagrid about how your other classes were going as well as learning more about nifflers, finding out things about them that your textbooks didn't cover.

Hagrid glanced out the small window of his hut, noting how low the sun was hanging in the sky.

"You two best be getting off. Don't want to get in trouble."

You stood up, reluctantly handing the niffler off to Hagrid.

"Is it okay if we come back to see him again?" Mingi asked, glistening eyes darting down to the creature who had started to stir.

"Of course. You're both welcome back whenever. You know that."

"Yes sir." You nodded with a grin.

The both of you waved goodbye to Hagrid while leaving his small home and started your brief journey back to the school, not realizing how dark it had gotten outside.

"I want to take him with us." You pouted, making grabby hands towards the hut as you walked away from it.

"Me too." Mingi clutched his chest. "I've never seen a real niffler before. I didn't realize they were so cute."

"They're irresistible." You gushed. "I want one as a pet."

Your Slytherin friend chuckled in response. "Do you think you could handle caring for one?"

"Maybe. Though that story Hagrid told us about Newt Scamander makes me a bit skeptical. They must be really drawn to shiny things. I'd have to keep it on a leash or something." You spoke your thoughts aloud. "Maybe I just like being around them for a little while."

"Me too." Mingi agreed. "I don't think I could take care of one. Imagine how difficult it would be to keep one from going after anything shiny it laid eyes on."

You pictured it for a moment, imagining utter chaos.

"Yeah. Being a niffler mom might not be for me." You laughed.

Once back inside the school, you and Mingi went your separate ways, waving goodbye to each other while heading off in the direction of your respective dormitories. Leaving Mingi was always difficult for you because you enjoyed his company and wanted to spend as much time around him as possible.

One thing you hated about being in separate houses was not being able to live in the same dorms. Yes, boys and girls were separated but at the very least, you both could hang out together in the common room and prolong your time together.

Mingi made his way to the Grand Staircase, descending the seemingly endless stairs that led to the dungeon where the Slytherin dormitories were located. His mind was clouded with thoughts of you, as usual. You had been friends for years yet every time he was around you his heart raced like crazy. He was so in love with you it was almost embarrassing. What's even more embarrassing is how he still hadn't confessed yet. With how long the both of you have known each other, one would assume he already confessed, but he was too afraid of rejection, or worse, making things awkward between the both of you and ruining your friendship.

If only there was a way he could ease into confessing, maybe test the waters a bit and see if you might be interested in him the way he was with you.

Mingi's hands were clammy as he held the small velvet box between his palms. He spent so long choosing this piece for you and hoped you would like it. As soon as his eyes landed on the item he knew he had to get it for you, clearly imagining how nice you would look wearing it.

He took a series of deep breaths, letting them out slowly in a futile attempt to calm his nerves as he approached the place where you stood, not noticing his presence.

"Hi." He announced himself by greeting you, hiding the box behind his back.

"Hi." You flashed that heart-melting smile of yours that he loved so much.

"You look pretty." Saying the compliment aloud made Mingi's cheeks flush. "Did you do something different to your hair?"

"I styled it a little, but I hardly did anything. How'd you notice?"

I notice everything. Is what he wanted to say, but he just shrugged.

"So, why'd you want to meet here?"

"I wanted to give you something."

Your face lit up at his statement, clearly not expecting the gesture.

"What is it?" You inquired.

Mingi revealed the velvet box he had concealed behind his back and held it out for you. He noticed the way your eyes became wide at the sight, carefully taking the box from his hands to open it up.

You gasped upon seeing the necklace displayed inside.

He stood nervously as you removed the jewelry, examining the silver chain that had a single pendant hanging at the end; your favorite stone encased in silver.

"Mingi." You gaped. "This is beautiful."

The design of the piece was simple, which you loved, silently vowing to wear it all the time.

"You like it?" He asked quietly.

"I love it. What's the occasion?"

He shrugged. "Just because."

That was a lie. Getting you the necklace was just one way he could attempt to convey just how much you meant to him without actually confessing.

"Would you like me to put it on you?" He asked with pink cheeks.

"Yes please."

You allowed him to take the necklace while you turned around and let him clasp it around your neck. Your hand reached up to gently touch the pendant hanging perfectly between your collarbones, your heart leaping in response.

Just because, huh? You thought, holding back a smile.

No one buys their best friend jewelry just because. You knew there had to be another reason behind it and you hoped your suspicions were correct.

"Thank you."

"Yeah." His eyes were cast upon the ground, unable to meet your gaze. "You're welcome."

Your fingers unconsciously fiddled with the pendant.

"It's very beautiful."

"So, you like it?"

"I love it." You smiled.

Those three words were enough to fill Mingi with a feeling of adoration, his heart beating with joy. Seeing your reaction to the necklace gave him a small glimmer of hope that maybe you did like him the way he liked you.

It was nearly impossible to stay away from the lovable niffler you and Mingi met a few days prior. As soon as you had time to slip away, the both of you took off to Hagrid's hut once again, hoping to see the magical creature that captured your hearts.

"Oh. I should take this off." You paused, reaching up to unclasp the necklace Mingi had given you. "Don't want the little guy to snatch it."

"Smart." Mingi nodded, watching as you slipped it into your pocket.

You hadn't taken the necklace off not once since Mingi had gifted it to you. The piece of jewelry meant the world to you and you had no intentions on losing it or having it taken by a magical creature, so it was best to pocket it for the duration of your visit at Hagrid's.

Mingi gave a few knocks to the large wooden door, his eyes gleaming with anticipation as it creaked open.

"Hey you two. Didn't expect you back so soon."

"We couldn't stay away." You responded.

"Yeah we wanted to see the niffler again, if you don't mind." Mingi added, looking up at the half-giant with hopeful eyes.

"'Course you can." He bellowed cheerfully, stepping aside so the both of you could enter his cozy home.

The niffler was up and skittering about the hut this time instead of being curled up in his basket. Fang, who was lying peacefully by the fireplace, sat upright when the creature skittered past his paws, startling him a bit.

"He's got what I believe muggles call zoomies." Hagrid said with a hearty chuckle.

You squeaked gleefully as the creature scurried over to you and Mingi.

"I think he remembers us." You chuckled, leaning down to pick him up.

Mingi reached over and started to lightly scratch the top of the niffler's head before going down his back, the creature letting out small chitters of approval.

"You wanna hold him?"

Mingi nodded vigorously, gently taking the niffler from your arms and cradling him in his own, gazing fondly at him. His fingers came up to give the little guy some belly scratches which he seemed to really enjoy, for a few moments anyway. He didn't stay still for long before he was squirming in the Slytherin's arms, trying his best to wiggle his way out. Mingi got the message and placed the creature on the ground allowing him to run about to his heart's content.

"He's got a lot of energy today."

"He does." Hagrid chuckled. "Excited little thing, he is."

You and Mingi watched him in amusement and adoration as he skittered about.

"Would you like to feed him?" Hagrid asked, making the both of you look up at him.

"Yes please." Mingi nodded.

Hagrid stood up from his seat and went rummaging through some of his belongings before pulling out a bucket.

"You'll have to do some work, if you don't mind gettin' yer hands dirty."

You and your friend shared a look before you put forth a question.

"What do we have to do?"

"Nifflers are herbivores so this fella only eats grass and weeds. I haven't had the chance to gather any food for him so if you're both willing to do that you can feed him."

"Of course we are." You agreed straight away, Mingi nodding in agreement.

"Great." He handed the bucket over to you, making sure the niffler didn't run out while you and Mingi stepped outside.

"Here." Your friend pointed to a cluster of grass near an old wheelbarrow.

Wrenching the blades from the ground, you tossed them into the bucket you had been given and began to slowly fill it up. The two of you made your way around Hagrid's property yanking handfuls of grass up out of the earth. Eventually, the bucket was nearly full to the top.

"Should we stop?" Mingi questioned. "He's a small creature and this is probably plenty of food."

"You're right."

Hagrid was impressed with the work you two had done, bringing you back over to the couch so you could feed the magical creature.

Mingi held some grass in his hand, the niffler crawling over to him right away to start chowing down. His little hands held onto the blades of grass while he ate, making him look oh-so-adorable.

You decided to join in and pulled a handful of grass from the bucket, holding it out for the niffler who scurried across the small space between you and Mingi on the couch to eat the grass you had presented to him.

Your palm was emptied in no time and you found yourself reaching back into the bucket for more grass.

"Oh. Did I ever tell you two about that one time I raised blast-ended skrewts?"

Mingi turned to share a look with you before you both shook your heads.

"I don't recommend it. They're very ill tempered when they get to two months."

"What are they?" Mingi inquired.

"They're a mix between a manticore and a fire crab. The look like a giant faceless scorpion mixed with a crab."

"Scary." Mingi shivered.

Your brows raised. "That sounds dangerous."

"It was. Bought 'em from an illegal breeder."

"Makes sense." You muttered in amusement.

Hagrid was always getting himself into some sort of trouble and caring for incredibly dangerous creatures that he probably shouldn't have contact with.

"Let me show you a picture." He got up and started skimming through a pile of books before pulling one out of the stack and flipping through the pages. "Ah. Here we are."

"No thanks." Mingi declined, covering his eyes.

You peered at the drawing in the book, your face scrunching in response. Mingi made the mistake of peeking through his fingers and catching a glimpse of the image.

"Ah!" He squeaked. "That's terrifying. Who would want those?"

"Me, of course!" Hagrid gave a hearty belly laugh.

After another fun-filled visit at Hagrid's hut you headed back to the castle to spend the rest of the evening.

"I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow." You waved goodbye to Mingi while parting ways.

Once you were out of sight, Mingi decided to wander the halls with no particular destination in mind. He merely felt the need to take a walk, maybe think about some things that had been weighing on his mind.

During his stroll, he noticed a familiar-looking lump sitting amongst some sculptures and set of armor lining the hallways. He had been down that hall hundreds of times throughout his years attending Hogwarts and whatever was on the floor wasn't supposed to be there. He took a few steps towards the lump until he was able to make out what it was.

The niffler.

"Oh. What are you doing here?" He asked, unsure of how the creature had followed the both of you all the way back to the school. "How did you get h-" His question was cut off when he saw something silver gleaming in the niffler's hand.

"Hey. That's Y/n's necklace!" Mingi gasped, wondering how the little guy managed to snag it without either of you noticing. "Give that to me."

The niffler took off as soon as Mingi attempted to advance towards him.

"No." The Slytherin groaned, taking off down the halls towards him.

Mingi kept his eyes on the magical creature as he skittered down the corridors, rounding corners and leaping onto pedestals housing sculptures that Mingi had to catch and keep from toppling over after the little guy jumped off them.

This is the worst. He though to himself miserably.

Despite how much he was struggling, that necklace was far too important. There's no way Mingi would let the niffler have it, at least not without a fight.

Finally, after what felt like ages, he came to a halt, sitting near one of the large arched windows.

Finally. Mingi thought, his chest heaving up and down while he attempted to catch his breath. It was a miracle he didn't get caught by any professors running down the halls or he would've been in big trouble.

Choosing to take a different approach, Mingi decided to advance towards the creature with the utmost caution, sneaking up behind him while he stared at your necklace in his tiny hands. Just before he could slip it into his pouch, Mingi grabbed a hold of it, thinking he had managed to get the precious item from the creature, until he felt a tug on the opposite end.

You reached up to mindlessly fiddle with the pendant Mingi had given you, freezing when you didn't feel it around your neck.

Before you could fully begin to panic you remembered you had put the necklace in your pocket before going to Hagrid's place. However, when you reached into your pocket, you didn't feel the necklace. You heart dropped to your feet.

"Oh no."

Slipping out of the Hufflepuff dormitory, you made your way down the halls in the direction you had come earlier, hoping to find the silver necklace lying on the stone floors of the hallway. It meant so much to you and the fact that you lost it made your heart shatter. The necklace could have slipped out of your pocket at Hagrid's or in the grass on the walk back to the school. The only possible solution was to retrace your steps.

You went down the corridors, keeping your eyes glued to the floor as you scanned the area. As time passed and your necklace didn't show up, a feeling of hopelessness slowly started taking over. At that point, you started thinking that maybe you should just tell Mingi what happened and be honest. Then, maybe the both of you could look outside on the school grounds tomorrow. Changing directions, you started making your way to the Slytherin dorms, hoping you'd run into Mingi along the way.

Your search came to an abrupt halt when you spotted the man you were looking for playing tug of war with a niffler. You could barely question how the creature had gotten all the way to the school when you spotted a familiar silver chain gleaming in the lantern lights. Your necklace.

"Mingi?"

"Y/n!" He jerked his head towards you, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. He took your necklace. I don't know how."

Giving one final tug, the niffler released the jewelry and Mingi fell on his bottom, letting out a grunt when he hit the floor.

Mingi let out a huff, clutching the piece of jewelry in his hands.

You scrambled to grab the niffler before he could scurry off, holding him closely. His tiny clawed hands reached towards your necklace in Mingi's hand as he squirmed in your hold, trying to reach the jewelry.

The Slytherin pushed himself up off the ground and pocketed your necklace for temporary safe keeping.

"We need to return him to Hagrid before he causes any more trouble." You told Mingi.

He took a glance at a large clock on the wall.

"It's a couple hours until curfew. We've got time."

With that, you and Mingi set off towards Hagrid's hut for the second time that day. It was 8:00 PM and the sky was a deep blue color that was so dark it was almost black. Once outside the quad and away from the torches that provided light, Mingi pulled out his wand.

"Lumos."

The tip of his wand lit up, allowing you two to see where you were going as you hiked across the grass. The niffler had calmed down at bit after the necklace was put away, but still squirmed every so often, clearly wanting to be put down.

"Sorry buddy." You apologized. "I can't set you down until you're back home."

"I'm sorry he got a hold of your necklace."

"You have no need to apologize. It was no one's fault. I'm just trying to figure out how he got it. Maybe it fell out of my pocket or was about to fall out and he spotted it and that's what led him to follow us."

"That seems plausible." Mingi nodded.

You gave a few knocks to Hagrid's door as Mingi extinguished the light on his wand, the door creaking open just a few seconds later.

"Niffler delivery." You joked, forcing a laugh.

"I've been wondering where he wandered off to." Hagrid responded. "Been lookin' everywhere for him."

"He followed us back to the school. I think he might've seen the necklace I had in my pocket because he had it earlier."

"Oh, yes." He responded, taking the creature from you. "One glance at something shiny and these little fellas will go after it."

"He's stronger than he looks." Mingi commented. "I spent nearly five minutes playing tug of war with him over that necklace."

The half-giant chuckled at the image.

"That they are." He nodded. "Well, thank you for bringing him back."

"Of course. We couldn't have him roaming the school all night." You chuckled.

"I feel like you two need a reward or somethin'."

Before either of you could deny, he reached into a wooden bowl on his round dining table, holding out two dragon scales.

"Here ya go. Genuine dragon scales."

Both your's and Mingi's brows raised as you each took a shiny scale.

"Woah." You gaped. "Thank you."

"It's the least I can do to show my appreciation."

"So cool." Mingi murmured in awe.

"You two best be heading back so you don't miss curfew."

Thanking Hagrid again for the incredibly special gift, you parted ways, waving goodbye as you started back towards the castle. Holding your wands out, you and Mingi illuminated the ends of them, using the light to guide you back to the school.

"We've had an eventful evening, haven't we? You more so than me. After all, you're the one who chased the niffler and pried the necklace away from him."

"I wasn't kidding when I said he's stronger than he looks."

"I believe you." You chuckled. "It seemed like he had quite the grip on that necklace."

"You have no idea."

You passed by the study hall, catching sight of a few students hitting the books before curfew. The halls were mostly empty, not many people were roaming around at this hour as most students preferred to hang out in the common room of their dormitories.

"Thank you for getting the necklace back." You spoke up, wondering how long he had been chasing the niffler before he was able to catch him and successfully pry the chain from him.

"Oh. That reminds me." Mingi paused, pulling the precious piece of jewelry out of his pocket. "Here you go."

A soft smile graced your lips at the sight of it and you moved your hair to the side, turning around.

"Could you put it on me?"

Mingi stepped forward and clasped the necklace just as he did when he had first gifted it to you. You thanked him, turning around to gaze up at him while your fingers unconsciously toyed with the pendant.

The light from the flickering torches on the wall danced across Mingi's sharp features and illuminated his cheekbones. For a moment, all you could do was stare, entranced by his hypnotizing features.

"Can I tell you something?" He inquired softly, cutting through the silence hanging in the air.

You hummed, prompting him to continue.

"There's a reason I gave you that necklace."

As much as you wanted to smile because you were right, you held back and stayed silent, waiting for him to go on.

"The truth is, I like you, Y/n." Mingi bravely stepped forward, feeling nervous as ever. "I was too afraid to confess and to be honest, I didn't even know what I would say. So I decided to buy you something nice in hopes that the message would get across without me having to confess."

This time you couldn't hold back your smile.

"I knew there had to be a reason." You grinned. "I just didn't want to get my hopes up about any possibilities."

"Possibilities of what?" Mingi pressed.

"That you like me."

In the blink of an eye, Mingi grabbed your face with both his hands and closed the gap between your faces, pressing his lips against yours.

Fireworks exploded in your stomach upon contact, your eyelids fluttering closed in response. You'd always imagined what it would feel like to kiss Mingi and feel his pretty, plush lips against yours. Now, you can happily say it feels like a dream come true—because it is.

Your palms slid up his chest, slowly finding their way to his lengthy hair, tangling your fingers in the strands. Mingi sighed softly at the feeling, his head tilting for better access while he slotted your mouths closer together.

His cheeks burned and were more than likely sporting a deep pink color, but he didn't care. He was finally kissing you and that's all that mattered to him. He had imagined this so many times and none of the fake scenarios came close to the real thing.

He stepped forward, backing you against the wall while his arms caged you in, his lips moving at a more rapid pace. Your closed eyelids fluttered at the feeling of his plush lips encasing your bottom one, sending you into a foggy daze. It was as if he was letting himself go completely, putting in all of the emotions he had been holding back into the kiss: desperation, passion, longing.

You were vaguely concerned that a teacher would catch you two, the worry being pushed to the back of your mind as soon as it surfaced.

Your fingers pulled away from his hair and relocated to his green and white tie, using it to tug him closer to you. Mingi let out a small noise at your bold action, his heart rate speeding up in response. He was already very close to you, his body pressed flush against yours, but it wasn't enough. His hands, which were previously anchored on the wall on either side of you, had moved to your waist, squeezing it tightly as if to ground himself. Your fingers curled around the collar of his school robes, tightening your grip every time he kneaded your hips. It was all so overwhelming, the way he kissed you with such longing paired with the feeling of his hands sent you into a daze.

Just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, Mingi parted ways and rested his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed as he tried to process what had just happened. Both of you huffed and panted, trying to catch your breaths that had been taken by the passionate make-out session.

Your hands came up to cup Mingi's cheeks, holding his face between your palms, soaking up the moment. When he finally pulled back and opened his eyes he felt like he had just been punched in the gut. You stared up at him with glossy half-lidded eyes and puffy lips; your appearance reflecting just how the kiss had affected you.

"You're so pretty." He blurted, too caught up in the moment to consider the words coming from his mouth.

You gave him a drunken smile, letting out a giggle or two, your thumb running across his swollen lips which had became puffier due to the kiss.

"So are you."

He held back a grin, turning his gaze to the stone floor. Though his mind was still reeling from the events that occurred just moments ago, he was still able to ask one question that was begging to be asked.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes, of course I will." You grinned from ear to ear, pulling him into a hug.

Mingi felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he rested his head on top of yours, his arms giving you a light squeeze to make sure this wasn't all a dream.

"I don't want to leave." You admitted, your voice muffled from being buried in his chest.

"Me either." You could hear the pout in his voice. "We don't want to miss curfew though."

The both of you reluctantly parted ways, saying your goodbyes.

"See you tomorrow at breakfast." You told Mingi.

He nodded with a small smile. "See you tomorrow... girlfriend."

Hongjoong ⟡ Seonghwa ⟡ Yunho ⟡ Yeosang ⟡ San ⟡ Wooyoung ⟡ Jongho

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143 @lizzymizzy-blogg @minhanbyeol @dinossaurz @laylasbunbunny

[rianavi]

this is me trying…

luke castellan x artemis!daughter!reader

part 1, part 2, part 3

summary; you try to express your feelings to luke’s in your own twisted way

series masterlist

the days that followed were quite peaceful, you trusted luke much more now that you knew he actually cared about you. you guys seemed to be even more inseparable than before, no one ever found one of you without the other.

in his eyes, he noticed that you seemed more trusting toward him, you smiled more and even laughed at some of his terrible jokes. he was quite happy and couldn’t stop smiling.

“what’s got you in such a good mood?” chris sat down across from him during lunch.

luke looked up with a bashful smile on his face. he was playing with his food before, he swore he could see your face in the mud of mashed potatoes. “huh?” he responded when he realized he was being asked a question.

“i said, why are you so happy?” chris retaliates with a joking roll of his eyes. “something happen?”

“no, it’s just-“ he’s cut off when he hears your voice. stretching his neck, he finds you talking to a girl from your cabin in the line to get food. you’re not smiling or laughing - like you did with him - you’re just talking about archery, offering tips to the younger girl next to you. still, it’s enough to get luke’s attention.

he’s grinning sheepishly, eyes blown wide, and cheeks dusted with a crimson shade of pink. when you get your food and turn toward your designated table with luke you smile softly and if it’s even possible, he grins wider.

when you sit down next to him he turns toward you and speaks so quietly so that chris can’t overhear him. “hi,” even the smallest word out of his pretty mouth has you smiling and pink rising up your neck. “hi,” you mimic before turning to look down at your food.

“oh, i see now.” chris speaks up, he’s uncomfortable now, feeling like he’s intruding into your guys’ own private world.

in all honesty, you didn’t even notice that he was there. “what?” luke speaks up after you both stare at him for a minute. “oh nothing,” he rolls his eyes again before clearing his throat and getting up, moving to a different table.

you turn to luke with a confused face “what was that about?” he shrugs and turns back to you, not being able to stand looking away from something so beautiful in his eyes. “i don’t know, it doesn’t matter. how has your day been?” he asks, a smile taking over his harsh features.

you fight off the urge to trace his scar - now scrunched up slightly - with your finger. “it’s been fine, quite boring actually, haven’t had anything to do.”

luke on the other hand fights off the urge to make a dirty joke, you could do me, is what he wanted to say, instead he settles for, “we could go back to your cabin, none of your siblings are ever there anyways.” he suggests.

you agree briefly then stand up and make your way to the fire pit, luke trailing right behind you like a protective dog.

when you guys arrive at your cabin, you find it empty, indifferent from most days, unless it was raining then your siblings would be found outside, and even then it didn’t stop them.

you make your way over to your bed and just before you’re about to sit down, luke comes running and jumps onto the bed. groaning dramatically and spreading his limbs out as far as he could, the twin beds not allowing much room to sprawl out.

you roll your eyes at him, forcing down a smile and poking at the side of his chest. “move over,” he just looks at you and smiles wide ignoring your request.

you shove at his shoulder with very little force, “move over,” you drawl out the r. “there’s room,” he looks away from you, taking your pillow and adjusting it under his head.

before you could overthink it, you flop down onto the bed - well onto luke - and he groans. you’re facing him, arms pulled in between you and his chest, head resting on his arm, while your legs are resting between his.

once you realize how close you are, you attempt to move away from him to create some sort of room. before you can, he turns to face you and wraps his arms around your waist, forcing your head onto his chest.

it’s comfortable like this, you think, and out of instinct you move your head to look at his face. to your surprise he’s already looking at you with wide, twinkling eyes. your faces are so close and the silence becomes overwhelming.

after about a minute of staring at each other, his eyes flicker down to your lips and you stomach twists - something that only happens when you’re with him - and you start to feel hot, as if you want to crawl out of your skin.

he starts to lean in slowly and you can’t help yourself.

the silence, the heat, the close proximity, it all becomes too much and you lean back.

you fall off the bed with a soft thud, your elbow is tucked awkwardly underneath you and it sticks into your side. you groan and close your eyes, not being able to bring yourself to look at luke.

he feels embarrassed, thinking he did something wrong, did him trying to kiss you really make you fall off the bed, is it that bad for you. thoughts of worry flood his mind and he doesn’t even think as he stands up off the bed and scratches behind his neck.

you feel embarrassed, you’re laying on the floor still and too scared to open your eyes. you grimace at the thought of him laughing at you and don’t even realize his paranoid state as he speaks.

he can’t take it anymore and stumbles over his words as he excuses himself. “um- i- i’m gonna go, i- i have something to do.”

the sound of his voice has your eyes opening automatically and panic courses through your body - something you’ve only felt one time before. -

“w-what, why are you-”, you’re cut off as he scrambles away from you and out the cabin, leaving you by yourself, on the floor and alone, again.

[cthulhusstepmom]

Evidence that Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish is not what he seems-Lt. SR:

Soap smells like rain, it took a while to put it together because it's not Soap himself that emits the odor, it just follows him. It's less potent inside and when it's sunny outdoors but if you concentrate it's always there.

He has never been observed touching a gun or grenades without gloves. Almost every other explosive he handles with no regard for his own safety gloves.

HE EATS WEIRD SHIT. While he doesn't eat much of the food on offer from the cafe, he does eat consistently when outdoors, usually plants or flowers. Things he has eaten: dandelions(edible), garlic(edible), thistle(edible but he ate it with the thorns), foxglove(toxic, showed no adverse reaction), Several unidentified flowers and berries, grass(technically edible?) Etc.

Will sometimes refuse to enter a place before abruptly going in. The data is not consistent between different buildings or locations. Further research is required.

Sharp teeth.

Groups things in nonsensical ways. He will only fill a magazine with bullets that total a multiple of 7 or 3. The same for what weights he uses in the gym. When drawing or eating he sorts by 4s. He traded his room to get #13 (right next door, coincidence?).

Cameras will not focus on him, whether photo or video he is never in focus regardless of distance or conditions.

He has never once been in medical for more than half an hour, usually much less. Even though his hands have light burns on them almost constantly.

Dogs hate him. He seems ambivalent towards them and he's never been bit that Ive seen. Cats adore him as do birds.

John MacTavish does not blush. Not for lack of trying even when genuinely flustered or hot, his skin does not flush.

Ghost sets down the small notebook with a minute sound of frustration. The evidence is all there but looking at it, what does it really say? Other than that he's an obsessive creep. A series of quirks and coincidences compiled by a paranoid son of a bitch into a fucking stalker journal. But still, Simon can't help but feel like he's right and he'd be dead a million times over if he simply disregarded his intuition. Even if it is something batshit insane.

At this point however it seems that it'll drive him mad far before it yields any answers. After scouring what little resources were comprehensible on the internet he'd started growing out his hair, intent on tying it in knots to prevent charms. Leaving him with a problem he'd not encountered since he'd first donned the mask: unruly curls and balaclavas don't mix well at all. He'd also kept a piece of stale bread in his pocket for days as he'd read it was a repellent to- and he can't even believe he's considering it-fairies. It backfired, if anything Johnny had been more attached to him and even more touchy than usual. He'd left a small deli cup full of coffee creamer outside his door overnight and found it neatly placed upside down where he'd left it with not a drop left. Ghost chalked that up to some wise guy playing a joke or an exceptionally dextrous cat and firmly shut the door on any other possibilities in his mind. His next test had been a gift of clothing mixed with complements, he'd read that both were likely to drive away any Other. It hadn't been a very extravagant gift, a new pair of gloves and a gruff "well done Johnny" but at the time it had seemed to be the final nail in the coffin as Soap had gone white as a sheet(he can do that but he can't blush???) and scurried off. A quiet dread had filled his stomach the whole day until Soap turned up at dinner, a little quieter than usual but wearing his new gloves and eating more than usual(a scoop and a half of mashed potatoes with 4 packets of butter and 2 packets of sour cream as well as a cookie. The main course of spaghetti and meatballs went untouched though Gaz snapped it up before it could truly go to waste). Though when Ghost returned to his room late that night after trudging through hours of paperwork he found a pile of tiny, aromatic, pink flowers on the floor in front of his door and on top of them a shiny metal comb. Simon's tired brain hardly stopped to think of any of the dire warnings he'd found on forum posts and folklore sites alike, crouching and tenderly retrieving the piece from its bed of flora, careful not to crush any of the tiny blooms. Well... With all the knots in his hair-purposeful and otherwise-he's going to need a sturdy comb anyway.

[dixons-sunshine]

I love your Daryl x reader stories

I wanted to ask if you could write sth about Daryl x fempolish reader. Like maybe they meet in Alexandria and she made him some polish food he loved or just some love short story. I don't know it's up to you.

Have a great day

Just Try It | Daryl Dixon x Polish!Fem!Reader

*GIF and moodboard aren't mine.*

Summary: After finding all the ingredients needed to make one of your cultural dishes, you decide to make it when Carol invited you and Daryl over. However, you never suspected a man that ate snakes on the regular would be so skeptical when it came to food.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: The Commonwealth.

Warnings: Swearing.

Word count: 932.

A/n: Thank you so much for helping me with the translations @mawidixon! I hope you like this! (Translations will be at the bottom.)

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Nah, it looks weird as shit. Ain't gon' eat it.”

You rolled your eyes at him, huffing in frustration. “Kochanie, I've seen you eat a snake before. We've had to eat literal dog meat before. How the hell are you picky about this? It's just Pierogi. I've eaten this many times before the world ended. It won't kill you.”

Daryl peered over your shoulder, looking at the Pierogi that you were busy frying in a pan. His eyes were carefully following your movements, skeptical about the dish you were preparing. Carol had invited you and the kids over for dinner and had asked you to prepare Pierogi, and you had agreed rather ecstatically. It was rare for you to be able to make one of your traditional dishes, so you had jumped at the opportunity to do so.

“Why would ya boil it and then fry it? Seems fuckin' unnecessary if ya ask me,” Daryl replied skeptically, slightly scrunching his nose. “And the mashed potatoes? Why would ya wrap dough 'round it? Ya could jus' eat it as is. No need to go makin' dough outta flour and ruinin' mashed potatoes by wrappin' it 'round it. S'a waste of cheese, too, addin' it in.”

You clicked your tongue and carefully took the pan from the hot fire, and placed it onto a rag on the counter as to not burn the pristine laminate countertop. You turned to Daryl, your eyebrows raised questioningly. “Be honest with me right now, Dixon. Have you ever actually had Pierogi before?”

Daryl immediately shook his head. “Nah,” he told you, crossing his arms over his chest.

You hummed and nodded, turning to the bowl that had the Pierogi that you had made earlier. You grabbed the lukewarm Pierogi and extended it towards your partner, laughing at the face he made at it.

“Twój wyraz twarzy jest przeuroczy,” you mused, laughing harder at the confused face he made. “Before you ask what I said, it's not important. What is important, however, is you trying this. It's delicious and I can't have you thinking that eating squirrel meat is better than this.”

Daryl reluctantly took the dumpling, holding it gingerly between his fingers. “'Least m'familiar with squirrel meat. Know it ain't gon' taste any different each time.”

“Nie możesz zawsze jeść tylko wiewiórek,” you muttered under your breath, before shaking your head and sending Daryl an amused smile. “Daryl, stop being so stubborn. Po prostu spróbuj.”

Daryl grumbled something under his breath before looking at you again. “Nie chcę.”

“As impressed as I am that you understood me and that you managed to reply, saying something in my language won't sway me.”

Daryl shot you a small smirk. “Worth a shot,” he replied, before hesitantly taking a bite of the Pierogi.

You watched in amusement as a whirlwind of emotions played on his face. First skepticism, then surprise, and then he looked impressed. He practically devoured the rest of the dumpling in hungry bites, reaching for another one in the bowl, but you stopped him.

“Nope. I can't allow you to do that, misiu. The rest is for tonight,” you told him with a smile. “I can't disappoint Carol now, can I? She was eager about this the whole day. You only just came around about this. I'd rather give these to someone who's had faith in me from the start.”

“C'mon, tha' ain't fair,” Daryl groaned. “Merle once said tha' these things tasted like crap. Went into vivid detail 'bout how it tasted, too. Can't blame me fer not trustin' it.”

You giggled and shook your head. “You should've had more trust in me. I've been making these things since I was a kid. I'd never intentionally make you eat something bad,” you told him, before placing the lid onto the bowl and handing it to the archer. “Here, why don't you go ahead and take this to Carol? She's expecting us.”

Daryl took the bowl from you. “What about ya, robaczku? RJ and Judith are waitin' fer their auntie.”

You smiled at the nickname he had picked up from you, and motioned towards the dumplings still in the hot pan. “I'm just gonna wrap these up and put them away. I'll be right behind you.”

Daryl nodded and leaned forward to place a quick kiss to your lips. He soon pulled away and started walking away, calling to you over his shoulder. “Jus' so ya know, those are mine. Judith and RJ dun' need to know 'bout those.”

You laughed and called out to him. “So, are Pierogi's better than squirrel meat?”

Daryl paused at the doorway and contemplated on how to respond. He smirked to himself as he looked down at the bowl in his hand. “I'll let the kids decide tha', sunshine. I love ya.”

“I want an answer from you!”

The door shutting was the only response you got in return. You looked down at the pan and shook your head. There was never a dull moment with your beloved huntsman.

“Ja też cię kocham, you asshole,” you mused with a laugh.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

Translations:

Kochanie: Honey.

Twój wyraz twarzy jest przeuroczy: Your facial expression is adorable.

Nie możesz zawsze jeść tylko wiewiórek: You can't always only eat squirrels.

Po prostu spróbuj: Just try it.

Nie chcę: I don't want to.

misiu: teddy bear.

robaczku: love bug.

Ja też cię kocham: I love you too.

[wjhik]

Maybe We Were a Bit Too Loud.. (Jude Bellingham) *Smut*

A/N: been a bit too many Jude stories. if yall have any trent requests pls send

Y/N's POV:

Jude and I have both been so occupied in our work, we have barely got any time to spend with our daughter, let alone ourselves. Kiera had a play at school, so I got off work early. Unfortunately, Jude couldn't make it. She was quite upset about it, but I made sure to make it up to her. We had a girls day. We went to the Salon and got our nails done. I needed a refill on my nails and she wanted to get some color for her birthday party in a few days. I also got her some ice cream and had a shopping spree.

"Mama! Mama! Mama!" Kiera yells. She really doesn't have to be so loud. I'm right next to her. It has been a long day. As fun as it was, it was fucking exhausting. I look at her and she shows me some toy that she has, explaining it as if I didn't buy it for her. "Honey, that's amazing." I play into her excitement. "Mum, I'm hungry." She tells me, abruptly dropping her toy. "Let's get you some food, my little hungry bunny." I say, scooping her up and kissing her tummy. She starts wriggling in a fit of ticklish laughter.

I finish making spaghetti Bolognese as per my hungry bunny's request. She's just like her father. I take out her Minnie Mouse plate from the kitchen cabinet and give her some pasta. I also pair it with some leftover mashed potato and some freshly steamed broccoli and carrots. "Mama! I don't like carrots!" Kiera yells, very politely. "I know, sweetheart, but if you don't want to end up with glasses like mama, you have to have them." I tell her. She's not a picky eater, unlike me, but carrots are her weakness. It's not fun waking up to see a blurry husband, and if she wants to escape my genetic curse of poor eyesight, she has to eat her carrot. "Hmph. Fine." She says, crossing her arms but still listening to me. She's such a blessing.

As I'm serving myself the spaghetti and the vegetables (purely to be a good roll model to my daughter) for myself, I hear the door lock rattling. I look up to see my husband walk through the door. "Daddy!!" Kiera yells, attempting to get off of our high counter chairs. Jude quickly walks to his carbon copy and picks her up. "Hello, my love." He says, littering her face with kisses and placing her back on her chair. She continues munching away at her veggies. "Mhh...Whatever you made smells amazing." He says, walking to the back of the counter, where I place my plate onto the table and get out his plate. "Spaghetti Bolognese." I tell him. He grabs me by the waist and places a kiss on my head. "Missed ya." He says, then placing a kiss on my lips. "Missed you too." I reply. "Ewwww." We hear a little voice say. Our little love session is interrupted by Kiera fake gagging. She learns too much from Jobe. "Alright, alright. Go sit down, love." I tell Jude. He sits down and I place his food in front of him. He quickly gobbles it up.

"Mama, can we watch bluey?" Kiera asks. "No, honey. It's mama's turn to choose." Jude says. Kiera is sat on her little pink blanket at the left in of our very large L-shaped white couch. Jude and I are sitting on the right side. "But, daddy-" She argues back. "No 'but's." Jude says sternly. "You got your turn yesterday, and I was before you. Mama's last few turns were taken by us, too. It's time we let her choose." He explains to our daughter. She lets out a huff and puff. "Jude, it's not that serious. Let her watch. I'm pretty tired anyways." I whisper to Jude a bit too loud. "Yay! Thank you, mama!" She says, taking the remote from Jude and playing her show. "Baby, you can't give in." Jude begins a lecture. "Hey, don't tell me. You're the one who spoils her." I tell him. I'm supposed to be the strict parent, not him.

Jude put's his arm over my shoulders after the 76th episode of these stupid Australian dogs. I would go to bed, but this is the only family time we've had in weeks. I reach for my phone to check when bedtime will roll around. I let out a sigh as I realize tomorrow is a weekend, therefor she can sleep in. Jude senses my frustration and pulls me in deeper. Kiera's trance is broken when she looks over to see her parents at peace. She immediately stands up on the couch makes the strut towards us. She decides to sit right in between Jude and I, of course cuddling him and giving me her back. Jude and I's cuddle session was cut way too short.

My head moves from it’s comfortable position on the back of the couch to look at where the little snores are coming from. I see our little monkey finally asleep after 3 long hours of Australian dogs. I pat Jude's arm and he, in response, picks her up and starts walking towards the stairs. I clean up some of the cups, snacks, and toys left on the coffee table and quickly follow Jude's path. I close the baby gate at the top of the stairs Jude installed when Kiera starting crawling and head towards Keira's bedroom. I creak the door open to see Jude putting her into bed. He firmly tucks her into bed and places her pink bunny next to her. On his way out, he turns on her moon-shaped nightlight, as she's afraid of the dark, and shuts the door behind him.

Jude backs out of the room, still facing his daughter. He turns around and gets slightly startled by me standing directly behind him. "Fuck, baby. You scared me. I didn't know you were there." He says putting his hand on his own chest. "I'm sorry." I tell him, nuzzling myself into his chest. I haven't been able to feel Jude without another little lady jumping on him. Jude places his hand on the back of my head and pushes me further into him. "Let's get you to bed, pretty lady." He grabs my hand and leads me to our shared bedroom.

"Where are you going? You've already done all your bathroom shit." He tells me as I throw the blanket off myself. "Mama's going to go change into some PJs. She doesn't feel like being caught in a bra and panties when Keira decides to love bomb you tomorrow morning." Did I just say that? "Mama's gonna do what?" Jude makes fun of my use of 'mom language'. "See what this damn kid is doing to me?" I tell him, walking into our walk-in closet. I walk into my side of our closet. I open the drawer of 'sexy' underwear I have. it's basically has cobwebs on it. I pick out Jude's formerly favorite white set. I look at myself in the mirror, feeling better about myself than the last time I put it on.

Jude took me to a fancy hotel a few weeks after Keira was born to give me a break. I decided to bring along this set to 'impress' him. I was freshly postpartum, and I felt very insecure. I haven't put it on since then, but I've been working hard to get my prepartum body back. Obviously, I don't look the same as young, active, 20-year-old Y/N Jude met, but I would say I look pretty darn okay. I quickly slip on a silky robe, coming right under my arse. I tie it in a way where it cinches my waist and leaving the front open enough to give Jude a peak of his former bestie.

Jude is sat up on his side of the bed, book in hand. (Jude 110% does not read before but, but dad!jude does) I walk over to my side of the bed, taking an excessive amount of time in hopes that Jude will notice me. "Hey, baby? I was wondering if- Whoa." He says, taking his eyes away from his book. "Whoa?" I say, pretending to be clueless. Jude quickly puts his book on the side table and pushes the blanket off of his lap. He gets up and walks towards me. I open my arms for him to come into. He grabs my waist and I wrap my arms around his neck. "You look amazing, love." He tells me, leaning in to kiss my neck. He starts licking and sucking on the sensitive spot behind my ear. "Jude..." I moan, throwing my head back. Jude leaves my neck and puts his hands right where my robe ends. He effortlessly lifts me up.

He goes back to kissing me as he walks us over to the bed. He places me in the middle of it. He undoes my robe and kisses me from my neck down to my stomach. He leaves a few bites and marks on my stomach. He works his way down to my panties and slowly takes them off. He starts to lick and suck on my clit. He slowly works his way up to using 3 fingers inside me. I'm moaning and whining with my hands in his hair. "Fuck, Jude. That feels so good!" I moan out, grabbing his hair even tighter. Normally, he would talk a lot during sex, but he's so focus on me and making me feel good that he can't be bothered to dirty talk.

"Fuck, baby. Just like that. Ride me like that. Taking me so well." He says, pushing my hips back and forth. He has my robe open up top, but tied up. I ended up getting too cold, but we were too eager to stop to change the temperature, so I put on the robe again. I have my hands on his chest, using him as leverage to keep me moving. I feel my legs give out, and Jude senses it. He grabs me and flips me onto the bed. He quickly gives me a passionate kiss and pulls out of me. "Turn over, baby. On your belly." He tells me. I quickly obey, too horny to resist. I get on my hands and knees. Jude pushes his dick back in and thrusts into me at an ungodly pace. The headboard is slamming against our wall, and I'm making some very loud and lewd noises. Jude reaches up to my head and grabs a handful of my long hair. He wraps it around his hand and uses it to pull my head back. He uses this to kiss my neck, leaving even more marks than before. He pulls me off my hands and makes me grab the headboard. He wraps his unused hand around my throat and squeezes lightly. "You like that, baby? Like the way I'm fucking you?" Jude grunts into my ear. "Yes, baby. Fuck, you fuck me so good!" I moan out. I can feel a knot start to go undone in my stomach. "Baby, I'm gonna-" I tell him, reaching back to put my hands in his hair. "I know, sweetie. Cum for me. Cum around me, my love." As I hear that, I quickly let my orgasm wash over me, Jude following close behind me, filling me up with his warm cum.

"That was amazing." He tells me, kissing my sweaty forehead. Jude had cleaned me and himself up and gotten us some very fancy champagne from our wine cellar. "I know. I'm glad we got some time alone, finally." I tell him, looking up to kiss his lips. It's been way too long since Jude and I got freaky. It's hard to find the time when you're raising the clingiest child of all time. Jude takes a sip of his sparkly drink and turns on the electronic fireplace. It's mainly ambience, but it's nice to have. He turns off the two nightlights and gets comfy. Him and I drink and talk the night away, until we both cave to our parental positions and fall asleep with a show in the background.

(Time skip)

I open my eyes to see a blurry world. I reach over to the side table where I fumble until I find my glasses. I put them on and turn to face my husband. Somewhere along the night, he turned off the T.V. and tucked us into bed, taking off my glasses and placing them on my side table. On the rare occasion where I get to see him, he looks so beautiful in the mornings. I snuggle into him and kiss his forehead. I nuzzle into him and close my eyes once again, enjoying the quite morning. No rush. No Keira. This is nice. I feel Jude stirring slightly. He knows I'm awake as I have my glasses on. He places a kiss on my lips as I kiss him back. "Good morning." I tell him, giddy as ever. It's like it's our first night together at his mum's place again. "Good morning, love." He says in his raspy morning voice. Him and I chat a little before hearing a door creak open. I look over Jude's shoulder to see Kiera standing there with her bunny in her hands, her hair wild as ever.

"Can I come in?" She asks, rubbing her eyes. I quickly but discreetly slip on my panties that were discarded the night before. "Of course, love." Jude says, opening his arms to his baby girl. He places her in the middle of us, and for once she chooses to cuddle me and not Jude. I accept her cuddles with open arms and pull her in closer. "I like this. It's soft." She tells me, rubbing over my robe. Jude lets out a laugh and kisses the back of her head. He slings his arm over the two of us and pulls us into him.

"Daddy? I have a question." She asks her father who has his head on the pillow and his eyes closed. He lets out a 'hmm?' while keeping his eyes closed. "Are you nice to mama?" Jude and and I are both shocked by the question. "Of course he is, baby. Why are you asking?" I ask her. "I heard some banging on the wall yesterday and you yelling." She tells us, now sitting up. Jude and I both mentally face palm. I look at him, expecting an answer just to see him looking at me the same way. "Sweety, mama and I were just playing. She's fine." Jude explains to her. "But you said that you shouldn't play in a way where people get hurt." She says crossing her arms, visibly upset with her daddy. "Baby, I wasn't hurt." I tell her, rubbing her arm. "Then, why were you yelling?" She asks. "Umm..." I look over to Jude for an answer once again, but he is looking around the room, playing dumb. Amazing. "You know how you start yelling when your daddy tickles you? Like that." I come up with an excuse. "Oh. Daddy tickled you for a long time then." Jude starts snickering and I simply nod. Keira nods, satisfied with the answer. Jude tells her to go use the toilet and brush her teeth. She gets up and marches out of the room.

"So, can I tickle you again?"

Wattpad: funkyfishfeet

DM for requests

[corroded-hellfire]

I just gotta know in As You Wish, when reader and Eddie are finally together. Are Ryan and Luke were the type of kids that was like "I want a baby brother/sister!" or they didn't want another sibling or they were very neutral about it.

Ooooh boy @munson-blurbs and I had so much fun with this! Yeah, yeah, Eddie and reader are the main focus in AYW, but I think we can all admit that Ryan and Luke are the real stars. I hope you all enjoy this blurb about this little family!

Words: 1.4k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Boys, dinner!” you call down the hall. Making sure all the burners on the stove are turned off, you wipe your hands on a towel before bringing some of the food to the table.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d attribute the thunderous footsteps to a herd of wildebeests, rather than nine- and seven-year-old boys.

“Jesus, guys,” Eddie says, setting a bowl of green beans down on the table. “The whole apartment complex doesn’t need to hear you running around.”

“Sorry,” Ryan says sheepishly, while Luke just continues to jump up-and-down.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, “sit down before you get us evicted.”

Luke furrows his tiny eyebrows. “What’s ‘victed?”

“It means we get kicked out,” his older brother explains, lowering his voice to a dramatic whisper. “Live on the street and fend for ourselves, fighting off raccoons for food–”

“Ryan, enough,” Eddie warns, watching fear creep into his younger son’s face. “No one’s getting evicted.” Secretly, he’s warmed inside, knowing that his son has no idea what the word is. That means that he’s never come home to a red-stamped notice on the door, something Eddie was all-too familiar with as a child.

“Come on, you three,” you say, eyeing the Munson men. “Dinner is going to get cold.”

Eddie presses a kiss to the top of your head before he takes his seat next to you. “Looks good, baby.”

“Tastes good,” Luke says through a mouthful of mashed potatoes that he’s already shoved into his mouth. 

Rolling your eyes, you swat him with your napkin before filling your own plate with food. Once everyone’s plates are full and the only sound in the small dining room is the sound of cutlery scraping against the dishes, Luke nudges Ryan underneath the table. Ryan pushes him back, thinking at first that his little brother is just trying to be annoying. But after Luke nudges him harder, Ryan looks at him and deciphers the way the seven-year-old is raising his eyebrows at him.

“Oh,” Ryan says before clearing his throat. Both you and Eddie look up at him as he straightens in his seat. “Luke and I have been talking.”

“That so?” Eddie asks, swallowing his bite of food.

“Yes,” Luke responds before looking to his older brother.

“We have a request,” Ryan says. 

“And what’s that?” you ask. Mischief dances in your eyes as you glance over at your boyfriend, seeing the same curious and amused gleam in his eye. Eddie raises his glass to his lips and takes a sip to try and hide his smile.

“So, when two people love each other—” Ryan starts. Eddie arches an eyebrow, wondering where the hell his son is going with this before Luke cuts to the chase.

“We want a baby brother or sister!”

Eddie chokes on his water and you bite your tongue as you chew on your food. Coughing, Eddie sets his glass down, and you let your knife and fork fall to the table.

“I’m sorry, what?” you ask. 

“We want you and daddy to have a baby together,” Luke repeats, as though there was an actual miscommunication the first time he made his request.

“Yeah, buddy, we got it,” Eddie mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s trying to process what’s happening while stifling a laugh. “That’s kind of a big ask, you guys. A baby is a huge responsibility.”

Both boys pout, their mouths resembling Eddie’s when he’s disappointed. It’s almost uncanny. “But we can help feed it, and change it, and take it for walks,” Luke whines.

“It’s not a dog,” Ryan chimes in with an exasperated huff, as if to say, do you believe this amateur? “But we will help out a lot. We can be like built-in babysitters.”

“Well,” Eddie manages after a few moments, “she’d be doing all the heavy lifting. Gotta get her seal of approval.” He nods in your direction, a shit-eating grin on his face. It’s quickly wiped away when you glare at him. 

“I’m just waiting for me and your dad to get married,” you shrug, keeping your tone as casual as possible. “Once that happens, then we’ll have a baby.” You watch your boyfriend’s face blanch. Jackpot. 

“Okay, so marry her already!” Luke shouts at his dad, and you can’t help but laugh. 

“Yeah, Eddie,” you tease, “marry me already!” You reach over and squeeze his hand. “Look how sad and lonely my finger is without a ring.”

Eddie runs his free hand through his hair, glancing at the glass of water in front of him. “I need something stronger than this,” he mutters, just loud enough for you to hear him. He takes a large gulp of the water anyway before setting the glass down and turning suspicious eyes on his eldest son. “Before, what were you going to say? ‘When two people love each other’…they what?”

“They make a baby,” Ryan says simply. Eddie’s glad his hand is no longer around the glass, or it may have shattered in his grip. His large brown eyes become even bigger as he stares at the nine-year-old. You’re doing your best not to laugh at your boyfriend’s bewildered expression. 

“Where the hell did you learn that?” Eddie asks.

“School,” Ryan admits with a shrug. 

“Babies have to be made?” Luke asks, eyes bugging out of his head. Eddie looks like he’s about to have an embolism as he runs his hands over his face. God, his father hopes that all Luke’s imagining is babies being made in a factory somewhere that also makes Hot Wheels and his favorite breakfast cereal.

“Yeah. So, what happens is when the man—” Ryan starts. 

“The point is,” Eddie shouts, both drowning out Ryan and drawing their attention back to him. “After we get married, then there can be a baby.”

“If you get married right now, we could get a baby tomorrow,” Luke muses, earning another irritating glance from Ryan. 

“Babies take, like, nine months to grow,” Ryan says. 

“But that’s forever!” Luke groans, resting his head against his chair, sitting back up with a confused look on his face. “Wait, how do you even make a baby?”

“Okay, that’s enough, thank you!” Eddie interrupts, face beet-red at the mention of baby-making. “Can you two please go play or do homework or frolic in a meadow? I don’t know, just get outta here.” He ruffles their hair lovingly as they race off to Ryan’s bedroom, already arguing over what Lego set to build. 

“So,” you whisper, snaking your arms around his waist, “you need a drink to talk about marrying me?” You press a kiss to his lips and smile. 

Eddie holds your chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Nah,” he laughs. “I’d just like to ask without the kids badgering me. Not the romantic proposal I had in mind.”

Your eyebrows fly up in surprise. “You have a romantic proposal in mind?”

“What’s that, Luke?” Eddie calls out, trying to maneuver his way out of spoiling anything. “You need my help?”

“We didn’t say anything, Dad!” Ryan yells back. 

Closing his eyes and taking a calming breath, Eddie hears you giggle at Ryan’s damning reply. “Wasn’t talking to you, Ryan. I definitely heard Luke calling me.”

Now, it's Luke who chimes up. “Daddy, I—”

“Need me, yes I know!” Eddie calls, making his voice louder than normal to drown out any protests the boys might make. He presses a kiss to your lips. “Gotta see what the knuckleheads need.”

“How do the three of you always manage to get out of clearing the table?” you murmur to yourself as you begin picking up finished plates. 

Eddie heads down the hallway, but before he can get to the boys’ rooms, he turns into your shared bedroom and closes the door behind him. Locking it for extra precaution, he opens the closet and rummages around in the pockets of an old pair of jeans hanging in the back. His fingers land on the velvet box and he pulls it out. Stepping away from the closet and turning to face the light, he pops open the lid of the black velvet jewelry box. The shining silver engagement ring sits nestled in its pretty little pillow, the diamond catching the light coming in through the window and glinting around the room. 

“Hmm, now that they’re on to me, maybe I need to find a better hiding spot.” 

[obsessedwithyouxx]

Pt. 1 of Random Sodapop headcannons bcz why tf not

I don’t have these thought out in advance I’m js writing as I go so i take full blame for mistakes and shit

- He totally has a high pitched girly scream

- Yk how Pony commented on his spelling in the letter? Well news flash: Soda cannot spell for his life.

- His handwriting is a messsss

- Him n Dal have a shared fear of spiders and they totally got trapped in a room together with a spider one time and were screaming at each other to kill it

- He’s like SO oblivious you can full on shove a pickup line right in his face and he won’t realise your flirting until you outright say “I’m flirting with you.”

- He did go to Vietnam after the books events but he DIDN’T die bcz i said so😊

- Food colouring in everything he cooks. If it’s not food colouring, it’s mixing the most weird ass food combinations. It was already mentioned me made green pancakes, well, some of his other favourites were his pink muffins, blue potato mash and purple roast.

- All of the above (and most things he cooks) taste like absolute dog shit, but his brothers eat it to make him happy (Soda actually enjoys it)

- He gets bored way too easily and can’t sit still for his life

- He genuinely loves the snow and will spend hours in it without even realising he’s cold, but the moment Darry drags him back inside he basically collapses in the couch

- He’s totally sick all Christmas season, like, the reddest nose you’ve seen and sniffling all day which he loves complaining about, but the moment someone actually takes him seriously he’s all like “no I’m fine don’t worry about me”

- He totally uses his fingers for math but them moment he doesn’t have enough fingers he’s screwed

- Whenever he has to write out checks (what’s a check? don’t ask me i don’t think i used the right word) or whatever you call it where you like write the (receipt? the bill?) the amount something costs for the customers at the DX he just gives it to Steve bcz he A) can’t do math and B) can’t spell and C) his handwriting looks like a dog spewed its guts everywhere

- He he totally the type of guy to be watching a horror movie with his friends and then be laughing at everyone who’s scared but the moment he actually looks at the screen there’s a massive jumpscare and he screams soo loud

- you could send him to get the groceries, and instead he’ll come back with every weird trinket he finds OTHER than what’s on teh shopping list

- he was totally part of the Ponyboy naming team, like, he was so obsessed with horses that he kept asking for a horse and so his parents told him “you’re getting a little brother, not a horse” and then he started saying Ponyboy

- when they used to attend church, pony would be half asleep, Darry would be sitting, listening, but soda would be basically bursting at the seams and end up making the randoms most off topic comments

- and when his brothers didn’t react to that he’d start elbowing them and trying to get their attention but just end up getting told off

- the same thing basically happened in school too

- He’s lactose intolerant which is technically kind of canon bcz it was in a fanfic the S.E. Hilton herself wrote

- He’s also totally one of those people who will have the randomest allergic reaction and brush it off like it’s fine even though he’s practically anaphylactic or sum shit

I’ve written too much but yall are totally getting a part two heheheh

[klausysworld]

Hi love how are you :)) , I wanted to ask if you could make someone where reader and klaus Have a child , and she’s like 3 maybe ? Let’s make it so readers cook and mashed THE BEST PIE, so one day she makes a family dinner for the 3 of them, and her daughter/son slowly steal all of klaus’s food Untill her barely has anything left, and klaus hates all pouty and is genuinely upset, but can’t say anything because if he does then he’s sure you’ll blast him. So the kid is super cute and all, but makes faces to klaus when you aren’t looking 😭 that would be so cute. Later when you put your child to sleep, he read him story’s and give him lots of love, with cuddles. And again klaus gets really jealous, so when the child go’s to bed, klaus tells reader with a pout and puppy dog eyes on his face, how you love the child more then him. Which leads to some fluff and comforting. Sorry if it’s too much I totally understand if you can’t write this

Lots of love

Yours truly- Kirb :))

Loving both equally

I smiled as I watched Klaus and our son Henry sit at the table. I was just pulling the steak pie from the oven, plating it up with some mash a veg. Klaus had wanted roast potatoes but Henry was only three and preferred mash so Nik eventually caved when our son began to get upset.

Henry was a sensitive little boy and a little clingy but I found it sweet that he was such a mama’s boy. Recently he had been especially needy as the mention of starting school soon was brought up commonly. He would get upset and refuse to entertain the idea and instead wind up with a new toy and extra cuddle time.

“Momma I’m hungry” Henry’s small voice called from the table to which Klaus told him to be patient making me smile a little wider.

“It’s okay, it’s ready now” I told them while bringing both there plates over. I went back and got my own plate before sitting beside Henry and opposite Nik.

“Thank you sweetheart” Klaus lifted my hand and kissed the back of it making me smile wider.

A second later Henry was tugging my other and kissing the back of it as well making me laugh and Klaus to roll his eyes.

Henry eats his food quickly, sitting quietly at in his seat. Klaus and I kept up small conversation as we ate, I could hear Klaus fussing and glanced up from my plate to see Henry stealing a piece of the meat from his pie. Klaus frowned and was whispering to Henry and I sighed

“Nik just let him have a bit, if he’s still hungry then he needs to eat. I can give you some more later, there was some left over” I mumbled and he huffed

“He needs to learn to not steal-“

“It’s not really stealing” I muttered and he growled lowly, clearly getting more frustrated as Henry started scooping some of his mash onto his fork. I gave Klaus a look at the growl and his nostrils flared as he begrudgingly leaned back. “Klaus-“

“No. It’s fine.” He grumbled and I pressed my hand to my face.

“Henry baby, come here” I summoned and he quickly climbed down from his chair and came to mine. I pulled him up onto my lap and let him eat from my plate instead. Klaus’s jaw clenched but he didn’t say anything else as he kept eating his food. I stroked my fingers through our sons hair as he finished the food. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Klaus sticking his tongue out at Henry making me raise a brow. Eventually he looked back at me and his face dropped, he cleared his throat and stood up, grabbing all three empty plates.

“I’ll wash up” he mumbled and kissed my head making me grab his shirt and pull him down to kiss his lips before smiling and getting up, lifting Henry onto my hip.

“I’m gonna take him up and get him ready and then we can spend some time together okay?” I ran my hand down his arm and his expression brightened

“Alone?” He ginned and I hummed

“Alone.” I confirmed as I headed for the stairs. I could hear him chuckle as I got further away.

Henry laughed and squealed as I spun him round before dropping him onto his back on his bed. He smiled, and made grabby hands making me sit beside him and pull him back into my lap. His big blue eyes looked up at me and his bottom tuck out a little and he pouted.

“Is daddy mad at me?” He whispered and I shook my head.

“Of course not baby, daddy just gets stressed out sometimes because of…work…” I told him and he sniffled making his little nose twitch. I pet his curls softly “no sweetie, don’t be sad. Daddy doesn’t want you to be sad, we both love you so much” I told him and his lip wobbled

“Daddy doesn’t love me as much you do” he whispered and I frowned

“No no…” I muttered, my eyes widened “daddy loves you, he loved you more than anything in the world” I told him “when you were born he was so happy, he’s so proud of you” I smiled and kissed his head gently

“You promise?” He whispered and I nodded

“I promise you honey, both everyone in this family adores you. And you that when you go to school…everyone’s gonna love you too…” I mentioned and he pouted some more but reluctantly nodded. “Now…how about we read a story and go to sleep?” I offered and he smiled, rushing over to his book shelf that his uncle Elijah built for him.

He jumped up onto the bed and buried under the blankets making me chuckle and lay down beside him.

We read the book half an half, if read a page and then he would and any words he struggled with I would help explain. Henry was keen to learn which is why we thought he would be excited for school but he didn’t want to leave home and begged to be homeschooled but Klaus instantly disagreed and protested saying that he needed to socialise and make friends which I had to agree with because for once he wasn’t wrong.

I smiled as his words came out clear and relatively well pronounced before a knocking at the door sounded and Klaus stood in only his plaid pants, leaning against the door frame

“Almost asleep?” He asked and I glanced to the book

“Uh yeah..almost, I’ll be in soon” I told him and he cleared his throat with a nod before disappearing.

I didn’t mean to take so long after that but Henry ended up wanting another story and then he wouldn’t go to sleep unless I was holding him close and then I accidentally fell asleep as well. By the time I woke up it was late and all the lights were out, the covers were pulled up over both Henry and I which meant Klaus must’ve done so to keep us warm.

I quietly slipped out and went into our room. Klaus was lead on his side of the bed and facing the wall.

“Nik?” I whispered but he didn’t respond so I assumed he was asleep and so silently got changed into one of his shirts and carefully got in bed beside him. I made my way closer to the middle of the bed so I was closer to him and his body heat. I kissed the back of his shoulder and I heard him let out a breath. “You awake?” I whispered and he hummed. He rolled over to face me though he didn’t look very happy as his eyes found mine. “I’m sorry” I uttered, I wasn’t sure how to make him happier. I knew that I spent almost all of my time on Henry and it meant we didn’t have any time together.

“It’s fine” he mumbled and I frowned

“You know I love you” I murmured, kissing his cheek but he didn’t respond making me sigh “klaus…he’s a baby”

“He’s not a baby anymore” he grumbled “so stop babying him”

He shifted to sit up and I pushed myself up too.

“He’s a baby to me” I whispered and he groaned “seriously klaus-“

“Oh don’t do that” he huffed and I hit the back of my head against the headboard lightly out of frustration. “You spend every second with him and leave me with nothing. I have gone without you for three years because you love him more than you could ever love me” he ranted and my expression softened

“You think I love him more than I love you?” I questioned and he gave me a look

“I know so” he whispered and I shook my head

“Nik…no” I mumbled and he looked away to the wall. I shuffled over and lifted my hand to his cheek making him look back to me. “You know why love Henry so much?” I asked softly and he kept quiet

“I love him because he’s just like you. He’s everything I love about you. He loves to read and he likes to draw, he loves nature and my food just like you do.” I began while tracing small circles against his skin “he looks just like you, you know that?” I whispered and he tilted his head slightly. I nodded as I spoke quietly “big blue eyes, pretty curls on his head and those pink pouty lips” I teased and his tongue darted to wet his lips as his cheeks reddened. “He’s got the same curve at the end of the nose” I whispered while bringing my fingers to trace his features gently. “The only difference between the two of you is that he’s home 24/7. And when I miss you…I look for you in him.” I finished and he sniffed a little with a small nod before our lips pressed together gently a few times and our foreheads rest against one another’s.

“I miss you too when I’m not home…but I don’t have a little you to spend time with and then when I do get to see you, we’ll I don’t really get to be with you” he mumbled

“I know…I’m sorry…it’s only a couple months until Henry’s four and then he can get into school and I’ll be with you all day” I convinced and he sighed

“But as soon as he walks back in-“

“Then we can both be with him” I whispered “we’ll both give him hugs and kisses and he can come into your art room and we can read him stories together”

“He doesn’t want me, he just wants you” he frowned

“That’s just because he thinks you don’t love him” I accidentally told him and my eyes widened and is brows pulled together further.

“He what?” Klaus quickly shoved the covers off and started getting up

“Nik, Nik! told him you love him, he knows you love him!” I whisper yelled and he grabbed a shirt putting it on

“Im not having my son think that I don’t love him” he growled and I shook my head

“No no no…no he doesn’t, I promised him that you were just stressed with work and that you’re proud of him and that you love him very much. I shouldn’t have said that he doesn’t believe it, I’m sorry” I cupped his face gently and he breathed shallowly

“My son thinks I don’t…he thinks…” his eyes teared up and I swiped my thumbs under them to keep any tears away. Klaus was always had the fear of becoming anything like Mikael. From the second we found out we were having a boy, he was terrified and unfortunately it’s caused him to pull away which was exactly what he didn’t want to do but I didn’t want him to feel bad for it. He only meant good.

I wrapped my arms around him and felt his nose in my hair. “It’s okay” I whispered. He held onto my hand and pulled me to Henry’s room. I stood by the door as he let go of me and slipped his arms under our son, carrying him to our room and laying down with Henry in the middle. I got in opposite and smiled. Our fingers linked toward and he smiled softly, his nose a little pinker from sniffing back tears.

“I love you both” Klaus murmured, wrapping an arm round Henry.

“I love you too” I whispered “and Henry loves you so much” I told him and he nodded

“We’ll all go out tomorrow, buy some colouring pencils” he offered and I smiled. “Then maybe tomorrow we’ll put him to bed together, a little earlier and we can have some time?”

“Or we ask Rebekah to take care of him for an hour or so?” I suggested but his grin only widened

“I think I’ll need the whole night rather than just an hour” he chuckled and I rolled my eyes.

“Mmm why aren’t I surprised” I laughed and he lifted my hand to kiss the back of it.

“I love you” he uttered as his lashes fluttered and I smiled

“I love you too, goodnight Nik” I whispered

“Goodnight my loves”

[thebiggerbear]

Jason Teague x Reader - Prompt Response - "I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Summary: When another student makes an unwanted move on you, Jason's not above flexing his assistant coach authority muscle a little to get the guy to leave you alone and send a message.

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I absolutely adore early s4 Jason Teague. He's such a cutie. I always loved him and Lana together until the dark turn happened & he chose to keep seeking the stones for his mom. This was something that just popped into my head for the prompt line. Hope it's okay.

Reader is 18 (similar dynamic setup to him and Lana in the show). This is meant to take place during s4.

Thank you to my beta @rieleatiel for her services. You rock, girl!

Pairing: Jason Teague x Female!Reader; Jason Teague x Student!Female!Reader

Warnings: guy gets a little too close for Reader's comfort and he gets handsy for a second

Word Count: 4725

Please do not do any of the above. Thank you for your understanding.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Jason Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Soldier Boy version | Beau version | Dean version | Jenny version | Tom version | CJ version | Rachel version | Anael version | SDV Leah version | Alec version

You closed your locker only to jump as an undesired face appeared beside you. Said face of the unwanted senior broke into a wide grin. 

“Derek,” you chuckled nervously. “You scared me.”

He gave you what he seemed to think was his most dazzling smile. “Sorry.” He seemed anything but. “So, I was just wondering if you were going to Trav’s party later?”

“Um, I don’t think so,” you offered as you rearranged the books in your arms, gesturing towards them. “Gotta study.”

His smile faded a little. “That sucks. Wait… Today’s Friday…”

You could see him working it out in his head and you hurried to find another excuse. “Plus, you have the big game later.”

“But Trav’s party is after the game.”

You nodded, internally rolling your eyes. “Yeah, it is.” Why couldn’t this guy just take no for an answer? He’d been after you for most of the semester and you wanted nothing to do with him. You never flirted, never gave any signals or showed even a sliver of interest in return, so why was he so persistent? You’d turned him down and made excuses time and time again. 

You might feel bad if Derek was a genuinely nice guy, but he wasn’t. He’d bullied you all throughout most of your middle school years — knocking books out of your hands, purposely tripping you in the hallways, calling you horrible names, and even shoving you into lockers as he passed you by. He’d even smashed a tray of food into your clothes once in the cafeteria; he and all of his buddies laughed as mashed potatoes and gravy dripped off of your sweater. Lana would always ask if you’d tell your parents or the principal, but you refused; your parents were dealing with enough thanks to their divorce, and the principal would only make it worse.

Lana would then give you a hug and be there for you as much as she could. Chloe offered to handle it for you, but you begged her not to, swearing her and Lana to secrecy. By the time Clark joined your friend group in freshman year, Derek had moved on, giving you a reprieve for a few blissful years. Before then, however, there were many days you went home and sobbed into your pillow, hoping beyond hope that the next day he’d just decide to act like you didn’t exist instead of continuing to torment you. Thanks to him, you learned how to become invisible and you were good at it… Until you grew up and became a Smallville High senior. Now, all of a sudden, Derek was dogging your every step for some reason.

“You can come watch me play and then join me at the after-party.” Derek actually looked as if he had given you the solution you had been hoping for. “No test tomorrow,” he added proudly. 

“Actually, I have plans later, so I’m sorry, but I can’t make it. Good luck at the game, though.” You went to turn to leave when he grabbed your books from you and tossed them behind him with a grin, not caring in the least that a passing student had to duck to prevent a possible head injury.

Derek boxed you in against a locker, both arms on the sides of your head. He leaned in and your heart began racing, half in fear and half in anger. You usually tried to keep things civil so that his bullying wouldn’t start up again before you could graduate and get out of this godforsaken high school, but this jerk was getting on your last nerve.

“You don’t have any plans now,” he said in what he must have thought was in some sort of sexy tone. All it did was cause a knot to form in your stomach and increase your anger. “Come on, Y/N, come to the game and then we can head to the party together. Whaddya say?” He playfully wiggled his eyebrows at you and you reached your limit.

You took a deep breath, looked him square in the eyes, and stated firmly, “No.”

That took him aback for a moment. “No?”

“No.” You went to move under his arm when he stopped you.

“What do you mean no?”

“Exactly what it sounds like: no. As in nope, nein, nyet, negative. As in never going to happen.”

“But…” You could see him trying to understand how you could turn him down. “Why?”

“Why?” You laughed in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Why won’t you go out with me? I’ve been asking and asking.”

You had to restrain yourself from asking him again if he was really serious. Apparently he was and, while you had so many potshots you wanted to take at his ego and so many horrible things you wanted to say, you decided against the alluring idea of being petty and just gave it to him straight. “I hate you.”

His jaw dropped. After a moment, however, he gave you that creepy smile again. “You have a weird way of showing that, though. Seems to me you like playing hard to get. I can dig it.” He went to move closer to try and kiss you when you quickly slid out from under his arms. You swiftly picked up the books he had thrown and you were about to start down the hallway when Derek’s voice stopped you.

“So I’ll see you at the game later? Then you and me, we can go to the party together.” 

You knew you should ignore it but you’d had enough. You’d been dealing with this for weeks and in your bid not to stir the waters, it had only gotten worse. Time to pull the pin on that grenade and hit him with the cold hard truth that no one else in Smallville was aware of. 

You blew a wayward strand of hair out of your face and took a deep breath, spinning on your heel to face him. “I don’t know how you keep missing the fact that I’m not going with you, that I will never go out with you, but that’s your problem. As it so happens, I’m already seeing someone.”

He stiffened at that. “Who?”

“Someone and that’s all you need to know. And even if I wasn’t, let me just make this perfectly clear: there is no way in hell I would ever go out with you, especially not after all you did to me back in middle school. You’d have to be crazy to think I would.”

Derek waved a hand dismissively. “Come on, I was just playing around with you back then, not to mention it was like a million years ago. You don’t need to make such a big deal about it.”

Your eyes widened. Wow, this guy was even more of a jackass than you imagined. If you didn’t despise him so much, you might actually feel bad for him, or at least you’d feel bad for the future girl who did decide to give him a chance one day. It was a real mystery to you why any girl in this school, cheerleader or not, would ever date him for anything other than his football jock status. “Do you have any idea what you put me through?”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay now, you’re just overreacting. So we played a couple of pranks on you when we were kids, big deal. They weren’t that bad. Just get over it and get under me already.” He smirked at you and waggled his eyebrow again. You began to feel nauseous, disgusted and in disbelief; did he really just say that? Did he really say something that crass and suggestive after telling you that you were overreacting and needed to get over his bullying you?

“Wow.” You blinked. “Derek, you are…something.”

“Don’t I know it, babe.” Derek stepped closer to you, instinctively making you hold your books in front of your chest as if they were some form of shield. “Come with me to the party tonight and you could know it, too. See why they call me the D-train, on and off the field.”

If your heart wasn’t pounding in a mix of fear and anger right now, you would have laughed right in his face. For someone involved in sports, he sure didn’t have any game. You really couldn’t believe this was happening. And to think, when you woke up this morning, you thought it was going to be a halfway decent Friday, especially when you got a sweet good morning text from a certain someone.

“Not happening,” you seethed.

“You say that now,” he said in a throaty murmur. “But you’ll be saying something different later, trust me.”

Your jaw tightened and you turned to leave when he grabbed your arm. “Let me go!” You yanked your arm out of his grip just as Clark appeared seemingly out of nowhere and stepped between you.

“Derek, leave her alone. She said she doesn’t want to go with you so just let it be, alright?”

“Who the hell are you to tell me what to do, Kent?” Derek bit out, not one bit happy about the interruption. A crowd had started to gather and you could hear the whispers and feel everyone’s eyes on you — which was exactly what you didn’t want. You nervously buried a hand in the back of Clark’s t-shirt and tried to tug on it to get his attention so he could walk away with you. He didn’t budge and continued to stare down Derek, unperturbed.

“Alright, break it up. Break it up.” Assistant Coach Teague suddenly appeared and he quickly glanced between Clark and Derek. “What’s the problem, fellas?”

“Nothing, Coach,” Derek answered. “Just a little misunderstanding between me, Kent, and my girl.” He glared over at Clark.

“Oh my God, I’m not your girl,” you snapped. “Get it through your thick head already!” You leaned into Clark a little, asking “Are you sure there’s enough padding in those football helmets you guys wear? Because I’m going to start worrying about you if this,” you gestured towards Derek, ”is the end result.”

A hint of a smirk played on Clark’s face, but he tamped it down and immediately echoed you. “She’s not your girl, Derek. She never has been. Just leave her alone and we’ll be cool.”

“It’s not your business, Kent,” Derek hissed, yet his cheeks had darkened a shade in embarrassment, having become aware that more people than Coach Teague were carefully watching the scene.

“No,” the coach agreed. “But it is mine.” Your eyes widened and your heart rate picked up a little at that. Still, you did your best to hide your reaction from the student populace currently congregating in the hallway. “And I gotta tell you,” the blond took in Clark’s determined expression and protective stance in front of you. His green eyes roved over you and landed on your fingers buried in the tail of Clark’s t-shirt before looking back over at Derek. “This doesn’t look like nothing. I pretty much already have an idea of what’s going on, but because I like to be fair, I’m gonna give you one chance to tell me what’s really going on here, Deakins. And you better make it good.” The coach had his arms crossed and he stared down his player, a stern expression on his handsome face. 

“Look, Coach, it’s nothing. Y/N and I were just talking when Kent—”

“Derek was having trouble with the word ‘no’ and what it meant so I stepped in to make sure he understood it loud and clear,” Clark interrupted. Coach Teague’s eyes widened and snapped over to you. You subtly nodded, biting into your bottom lip and hoping he recognized the nervous gesture for what it was: that you wanted this to stop and go away already. You’d been through enough over the years where Derek was concerned; you’d be damned if the idiot was going to ruin your senior year for you, too.

The coach’s jaw tightened and he gave you an almost imperceptible nod in return before glancing between his two players once more. “Okay, that paints a pretty clear picture. Deakins, you’re going to head straight to Quigley’s office right now and tell him why you’re not playing tonight.”

“Coach, that’s not—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Coach Teague growled. “As a matter of fact — Hopkins!” Another player emerged from the growing crowd. “Escort Deakins to see Coach Quigley. Right now.”

Hopkins nodded. “Yes, Coach.” He moved next to Derek who was glaring at you over Clark’s shoulder.

“Stupid bitch,” he muttered. “Not worth my time.” Clark tensed against you and you noticed Coach Teague’s hand clench underneath his crossed arms.

“Get going,” the latter spat. “Or I’ll see that you’re benched the rest of the season.”

Derek spared you one more heated glare, but turned at Hopkins’ urging and began walking away. Clark relaxed slightly and you let go of his shirt, letting out a small breath of relief. Thank God a fight hadn’t happened. You were grateful that your friend stepped in and had your back, but you didn’t want him getting hurt on your account and you really didn’t want a huge dramatic scene. Of course, the small crowd that had gathered around you might prove you wrong on that last account. You snuck a glance in Coach Teague’s direction to find his green gaze already intent on you. You quickly snapped your eyes back to Clark, the one person you were allowed to be looking at without drawing too much attention.

“Alright, show’s over. Everyone, get to class!” The coach urged. People began to disperse, talking loudly once more as they milled the hallway. Great, what happened between you and Derek was now bound to be the talk of the school for the next week at least.

Clark spun around to face you. “Are you okay?”

You gave him a small, grateful smile. “Yeah. Thanks for having my back like you did.”

He returned the smile. “Of course. What are friends for?”

Coach Teague appeared and clapped a hand on Clark’s shoulder. “Alright, Kent, I appreciate what you did and I’m sure Y/N does, too, but you need to get to class. I can take it from here,” he assured the younger man.

Clark nodded, glancing back and forth between the two of you, and adjusted the strap of his backpack. “Sure. Call you later?” He asked you, suddenly seeming unsure which was strange for your usually confident friend. 

You didn’t know why he appeared to be so uncertain all of a sudden, but you nodded, your smile as kind and as reassuring as you could make it. “Yeah, definitely.” 

He gave you a nod and turned to head in the opposite direction. Confusion furrowed your brow as you watched him go.

“Miss Y/L/N.” Coach Teague’s voice right next to you snapped you out of your thoughts and you turned to see his gaze burning into you once more. Unlike Derek’s leering stare, these eyes were warm and made you feel safe. “If you want to report Deakins to the Principal, I can escort you. Or if you want to go to the nurse’s office first to get looked at…”

Your eyes widened slightly. “What? No, no, I’m fine. No need for the nurse.”

He arched a brow over at you. “The principal then?”

You pressed your lips together and rearranged the books in your arms. “No. No need,” you answered quietly. Honestly, you just wanted this whole thing to go away, especially Derek himself. You’d like him to go away most of all.

Coach Teague’s jaw tightened and he gently took your books from you and indicated for you to start slowly walking down the hall. He kept an even pace with you. “What Kent said sounded serious.”

You shrugged a shoulder. “It wasn’t. Derek was just being a jerk like usual.”

The coach thought on it for a moment and then licked his lips. “What class do you have now?”

“I don’t. I have a free period. I was just about to head out actually.”

He nodded in approval. “Early Friday. Not bad. Perks of being a senior.” He shot a grin over at you.

You couldn’t help but return it. “Something like that.”

He came to a stop and handed you back your books. “Well, before you go, would you mind helping me out with something?”

You slipped the books into your bag and dug your teeth into your bottom lip. “Gee, I don’t know,” you teased. “I’m supposed to be meeting this guy I’m seeing for a quick lunch before he has class in about an hour. And I need to swing by my house first, so that might be kind of cutting it close.”

Coach Teague furrowed his brows as he considered your words. “You’re right, that is kind of cutting it close. Any chance that this guy that you’re seeing is good-looking? You know, to make it worth the trouble?”

You pretended to think over it for a moment and then shrugged a shoulder. ”He’s…fairly handsome, I guess.”

His jaw dropped. “Fairly? Really? That’s—” Jason quickly glanced around as you snickered behind your hand. He saw that there were still a couple of students in the hallway. He quietly cleared his throat and Coach Teague was immediately back in place. “Well, be that as it may, I only need a moment of your time and then you’re free to go meet this guy who sounds way more good-looking than you’re giving him credit for.” He ignored your grin and gestured over your shoulder. You turned to see the door to his office. He opened it and held out a hand towards the office in open invitation. “After you, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Sure thing, Coach,” you quipped. You stepped inside, hearing him mutter under his breath, “fairly handsome” followed by a scoff as you passed right by him. You bit your lip to keep from laughing.

Once you heard the door close, you spun on your heel to face him. “So, what is it you need my help wi—”

He was already on you, cupping your face and kissing you. Once you needed to breathe, he laid his forehead against yours. “What Clark said… Did Deakins put his hands on you?” He panted out. “Tell me.”

Still dazed from the kiss, you fought to answer his question. “Only for a minute.” Whoops, that hadn’t been what you’d meant to tell him. Damn Jason and his talented kissing… not that you’d ever admit that to him. His ego didn’t need to become any larger.

Sure enough, Jason’s eyes went wide. “Only for a minute? What the hell does that even mean, Y/N?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to pull him back into another kiss, but he resisted. He wanted answers and he wasn’t going to give in until he got them. You were quick to assure him, “He grabbed my arm for a second, but I immediately pulled away and then Clark was there. It was barely half a second, I promise.”

His jaw clenched and he stared into your eyes. “Did he hurt you?” His tone took you aback for a moment. You’d heard him irritated before, but you’d never heard something so…menacing. It actually made the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “If he hurt you…”

“No, no,” you reassured him, stroking his cheek. “I’m perfectly fine.”

The unfamiliar fire in his eyes began to dim a bit and his jaw unclenched. Jason was usually a pretty easygoing guy and you rarely saw him get angry, if ever. Even in the few arguments you’d had, he never got mad, not really. While you understood his justifiable reaction, something told you that if Derek had had his hands on you for one more second or if he had seriously hurt you — and if Clark hadn’t intervened — you may have seen a new side of Jason that you hadn’t seen before. You weren’t sure why your instincts were screaming this at you, but they were. This was definitely something you filed away to discuss with him later, choosing instead to focus on reassuring him for now. 

“That creep better think twice before coming near my girl again,” he murmured, tenderly pushing your hair out of your face.

“I think you and Clark made that pretty clear,” you soothed. Because he certainly wasn’t listening to me. Talk about dense.

He gave you one of his charming smiles. “Gonna make it a lot clearer.”

Again, you felt a little perturbed but you quickly pushed the feeling back down and decided to recalibrate the situation. You tightened your embrace around his neck and moved into him more, giving him one of those smirks. “So, do you really have to go to class or do you think you can skip just this once?”

His smile brightened and you knew you had been successful in changing his thought track. “Look at you trying to be a bad influence, trying to persuade me to ignore the call of higher education.”

You leaned in and brushed your lips against his ear. “I’ll make it worth your while,” you whispered huskily. You felt him shiver slightly against you and you pressed your lips together to keep the triumphant smile off of your face. He was practically putty in your hands now and you knew it.

“When you say worth my while…”

You moved his collar away and placed your lips on that spot of his neck.

“Oh, you mean that,” he chuckled quietly. He briefly closed his eyes as you began to apply pressure and added your tongue into the mix. “You know,” he murmured, biting his lip as his hands glided down your back. “I really shouldn’t skip class.”

You lifted up to his jawline to plant kisses there. “True. So, how about we skip that lunch instead?” 

Jason pulled back to grin at you. “Now we’re talking.” He kissed you and when you both needed air, he placed his forehead up against yours. “But what kind of boyfriend would I be if I made my girlfriend go hungry just so we can make out under the bleachers?”

You snorted a laugh. “We are not going under the bleachers again.”

“Why not? You know it’s my favorite spot.” Seeing his adorable pout made you want to give in, to give him everything he wanted to make him happy since he made you so happy, but you couldn’t forget that you both had almost been caught the other day. The junior gym class had been running the required annual mile for their fitness tests. He had to pretend he had caught you smoking a cigarette under there just to cover up what you had really been doing. The stern talking to he gave you was beyond ridiculous, but you’d had to go along with it to keep up the charade. It was too risky and you didn’t want him to lose his job. You knew how much he needed it to be able to afford staying in college. 

You decided to dig your teeth into your bottom lip and tease him. “We could go to another one of your favorite spots,” you enticed. His eyebrows shot up and your smirk grew. When he realized which one you were talking about, his face brightened and his smile was so wide it had to hurt his cheeks. He looked like an excited overgrown kid who just learned he could open his Christmas presents early. 

“Really?” 

You held up a finger. “But no skinnydipping this time.”

He immediately deflated and you fully expected to hear another cute whine. Instead, he mumbled, “Okay.” You giggled at his reaction under your breath and he gave you his charming smile once more. There had been skinnydipping (all him though he didn’t realize it) but it had been dark and definitely nothing was seen. The water had been cold as hell and it had been a quick swim, the chill in the night air dashing Jason’s romantic plan for the evening.

“And then after the game tonight,” you continued, kissing his chin. “We can go back to your dorm,” You then kissed near the corner of his mouth. “And play your Xbox,” you hummed.

“I really hope that’s code for something else,” he whispered teasingly to your lips. 

Instead of answering, you just smiled. Truthfully, your relationship hadn’t reached that point yet. You’d only been dating since the summer when you two had met at a party where you both spent the whole night talking after hitting it off well. He was planning on traveling to Europe in the next week to spend some time in ol’ Paris on the advice of his mom since he was still hurting over losing the prospect of a football career due to his injury. However, he ended up changing his mind and instead spent all of his time with you. He enrolled at CKU once he got a job — funnily enough as an assistant coach at your high school (so he could still see you in between classes and be able to make money while also doing something he actually liked) — and he continued his relationship with you. Grand romantic gestures, stolen kisses during working hours… And throughout it all, he’d never pushed you for more than you were comfortable with. He’d been patient and understanding, even telling you “I’m good with where we are as long as you are, too.” And of course you were, how could you not be? He was an amazing guy who made you laugh, texted you every morning and night, insisted on taking you out and spending his free time with you, whose kisses made your knees turn to jello and your heart race. You could talk to him about anything; he was good and kind and everything you could ever want in a guy. Everything jerks like Derek weren’t. You loved everything about Jason (though you hadn’t exactly told him that yet). He was everything you wanted and somehow also everything you didn’t know you needed. You were beyond happy.

Jason cupped your cheek and leaned in, kissing you sweetly. When he pulled back, he whispered. “Hey, are you really okay?” All traces of humor and flirtation from a moment ago were gone; he was now completely serious.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I promise.”

He studied you for a minute, most likely trying to determine if you were being completely truthful (you were), and then he tenderly rubbed his nose against yours. “Okay,” he conceded. “But you just say the word and he’s out the rest of the season. I mean it. He will be riding the pine pony so long he’ll be getting splinters in places one really doesn’t want to get any splinters.”

You shook your head and gave him a warm smile. “Thanks, but I’m okay,” you hummed as you brushed your lips against his.

His eyes were still closed when you moved back. “How do you do that?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Do what?”

“That.” Jason opened his eyes and he looked genuinely awe-struck which took you aback slightly. “You kiss me and my brain goes to mush.”

Chuckling, you shrugged and ran your fingers gently through his hair. “I could ask you the same thing since every time you kiss me, it also happens to me.”

A familiar warmth began to light up his eyes and a hint of a grin played upon his lips. “Well, that can’t be good for either of our studies. Maybe I should stop kissing you. You know, since we seem to have special kissing powers that have bad effects and all. You’re pretty bad, but me? You won’t have a single brain cell left if we keep going like this for another month or so.”

You lifted up in his arms and murmured to his lips, “Maybe you should stop talking instead.” He snickered into your mouth and tightened his embrace around you. You were on a timeclock, after all, and you intended on making good use of the time you had together.

A/N: Please let me know what you think. 😊

[pav-ia]

lol imagine being the nurse that handles pavia after he got injured during a suspicious fight.

cw :: gn reader , pavia is annoying

when he wakes up, his first thought is “where the hell am i?” a fucking hospital? he doesnt need a hospital. hes fine, hes a grown ass man and he misses his wolves dogs.

but as soon as he tries to move, he groans at the sharp pain in his side. looks down to see a gunshot wound on his side and frowns. that wasnt there before.

hes pouting angrily as he sits in bed all day, his piercings had been taken off and were set aside just out of arms reach and he had a heart monitor attached to him which made him cringe a little. he wasnt even close to death. what was the point in that??

when you step in to check up on him though..

“let me out.” he demanded as you walked in. you blinked in surprise that he was already awake.

“..no?”

“let me out.” he repeated.

“no.”

you expected more of a fight from the man who had his arms crossed, but he just pursed his lips and looked you up and down.

he didnt say anything else until you came back later in the day, carrying a tray of shitty hospital food. he looked grossed out from the runny mashed potatoes and the suspicious soup and the cold bread roll.

“dont you have anything else?” he demanded sassily. if he couldnt move then he may as well make the most out of his little stay.

“nope~ you get what you get.” you said in an equally sassy tone as she were currently sweeping the floor.

he cocked a brow at your tone, before he smirked. cute.

whenever you came in from that day on, hed have something new to complain about. “do you have socks?” “can i have a snack?” “my legs are sore.” “im bored.” and youd always meet his demands. it was your job, but he called for you a lot. sometimes he just wanted to talk to you, he would tell you about the stuff he saw from the tall window. eventually, he asked you to tell him about your day. having nothing better to do, you did.

conversations with him were surprisingly fluid. he had his own thoughts to add and he always brought up something interesting when it was his turn to talk. you caught yourself laughing at his poorly timed jokes, and he was occasionally insensitive but in a comedic way. although you would always hold back because it was mighty unprofessional to get too friendly with a patient.

you were pleased that he was healing. he got better but the better he got, the more complaints hed have. maybe he realized that he was gonna be able to leave soon so he always talked about how the lights were too bright- oh no, he might have twisted his ankle— hes struggling to breathe but only his favorite nurse is allowed to give him cpr ! shuts up immediately when youre about to call in your male coworker to administer cpr on him.

when he leaves, hes pouty and moody. he snaps at the other nurses, insisting that hes fine on his own. he doesnt need their help, hes a grown ass man.

your job is pretty boring for the next two days. two.

because on the third day, a man comes in with a gunshot wound in the leg.

that man is him, in case you were wondering.

hed grin, his cologne easy to smell when you first caught a glimpse of him being dragged away to the emergency room.

when the bullet was removed and he was stitched up, you were in charge of putting the man into a gown. they had cut his clothes off to get to the bullet, and as you picked up his shirt, your hands caught on a measly rose stuffed into the front pocket. his shirt smelled like his cologne too, and your nose wrinkled as you didnt even need to be close to smell it.

“miss me?” hed ask with a cheeky grin when he awoke and you were dusting the room.

sowwie for disappearing heres your monthly food

[annmarcus63]

Prev

Buckle up, long reading ahead

"I'm not hungry" 

"You need to eat anyway" Jaskier makes a face full of distaste, his belly just woke up and the last thing he wants is stew, more so if Lambert cooked it. "I cooked" Geralt adds as if reading Jaskier's mind "try a couple of spoonfuls" Jaskier takes the bowl eager to get on with it. He swallows precisely two spoonfuls without meat or carrots, only broth. 

"For you" says Geralt and places the yellow flower on the nightstand. He takes the chair next to the bed Jaskier is lying on. "I'm definitely not going to eat that" Geralt huffs a gentle laugh and says "It's a present. Ciri helped me to find it. Started snowing a night ago, that's all we could find" He looks at the dying flower a reflection of his own battered body, he's amazed with the gentleness in which Geralt holded it. 

"How's the pain?" Jaskier's eyes travels up to Geralt's, a soft look on the golden ones, like sunset autumn, Jaskier shivers but he's not sure why. 

"Painful. I must say I didn't know chest hair could hurt" 

"So much fucking hair…"

“...Like a dog died in there” They laugh, one of those rare laughs that holds years and years of sharing experiences, of sharing a life on the road, whether or not it's a friendship or merely a companionship. Jaskier regrets it immediately when a sharp pain emerges from his chest, he gasps and goes still. Melitele's magnificent tits, it hurts. 

A warm hand settles over the bandages, a fluttering touch. Touching but not quite. Jaskier opens his eyes, Geralt is there, close very close. "Breathe, slowly" Jaskier follows his instructions, the witcher's hand rising with every breath. Minutes pass, Geralt waits patiently until he regains strength, and then takes his hand away. Jaskier mourns the loss of contact right away.

"How is Ciri?" he asks to break the silence and grimaces at his own trembling voice. He has already asked Triss about her, but he wanted to hear it from Geralt, her father of surprise so to speak. He's seeking some kind of attention or recognition, he guesses, he's always seeking for self meaning in others, specially in Geralt.

"She's fine. She's got a bruised confidence, that's all." Geralt reluctantly takes the bowl from Jaskier's hands and places it on the nightstand, next to the withering flower. "She's safe  thanks to you" Jaskier makes a noncommittal sound "We're outnumbered and you... you save her and I ... don't... don't fucking do that again." Jaskier blinks stunned, maybe is the pain or his medicine muddle mind but the harshness in Geralt's voice hits in the wrong places for the wrong reasons.  

"I had to, Geralt. That thing was about to mashed her like a potato against the rock, Geralt. A po-ta-to." 

"You should've stayed back and let us handle it."

"Well, too late for that!" said Jaskier looking at his mended body and his severed hands. Geralt sweeps his gaze over Jaskier's body, taking in all the bruises and the bandages a miserable expression settles on his handsome face. "The chort threw you across the field. You aren't built for that, we are. You can't do something like that again" 

Jaskier could sense something in there, something the witcher wanted to say but he didn't want to give it to Jaskier. And the bard is tired of starving from Geralt. "Oh, I'm sorry" he feels his inner snappish child break to the surface "I didn't know I needed your permission to help..." 

"You're human, Jaskier..." And now he's talking like Jaskier is a child who doesn't know better. He's almost forty three!

"Oh, believe me I KNOW" 

"It's a witcher's work not yours"

"It worked, didn't it!? so why don't you stick your opinion up your arse and be grateful for just fucking once" 

"You died, Jaskier!" Geralt shouts, the words crashing to the walls and bumping back to Jaskier in a punch that cools him down instantly. “You died and I couldn't do fucking anything." Geralt slumps on the chair like all the weight of the world has finally left his shoulders, his hands that were clenched a second ago now open on his thighs. Jaskier's snappish inner child quiets down. "I... when I got to you, you're already gone." Geralt lets out a shuddering breath and then turns on the chair to face Jaskier. "You were gone." he repeats and Jaskier averts his eyes, suddenly ashamed. “Jask…” Geralt has never said his name like it's worth naming him, like it's worth the sentiment. The bard feels like crying. "You don't have to say anything, Geralt. I get it... I..." 

"Don't. Don't give me a way out, not this time, bard. I owe you, yeah, don't interrupt me for once and listen.” Even if he wanted to interrupt, Jaskier is utterly stunned. He has heard Geralt talking that much only when he's with Yennefer or Roach, never to him. It’s a nice change.  A callous hand lands on Jaskier's wrist, just above the bandages, a careful but intended touch that sends Jaskier's heart on full speed. "I couldn't feel you. You weren't… here anymore" with his other hand Geralt points at his own chest and isn't that poetic? the bard thinks. "I wasn't prepared to lose you, and I'm sorry, Jaskier, I'm fucking sorry. You've been by my side unconditionally even... even when I hurt you, even when I made sure to look the other way.” Geralt's thumb caresses the soft skin on his under wrist, right on his soulmark, and it's so wrong ,so unexpected that Jaskier can't take it anymore. He lets the salt water flow in a river down his stubble. "And I hate myself for making you believe that you're nothing but a travel companion. You're wrong, Jask, I wouldn't be fine if you died, I wouldn't survive losing you." Jaskier lets out an ugly sob. The pain in every inch of his body is nothing compared to this gaping wound with Geralt's name on it, his soulmate. Geralt wipes his tears with the back of his hand, despite being a tender touch the contact feels like a fire setting his skin. "You're my friend, the best I had. But you're much more than that, you're my s..." 

"STOP!" Geralt drives away like he's burning. A desperate expression settles on his face. 

Even when he's so sure that this must be very difficult for the witcher as is the first time he lets himself be vulnerable for Jaskier, he doesn't want to hear it. 

"Stop, please" Jaskier pleads in a broken whisper that rattles up his uneven soul  "You have no idea how long I've wait for this, you've no idea" a tired laugh bubbles from his chest sending spikes of pain all over his body, but before Geralt can act, Jaskier raises his hand to make him stay put. 

"It's not fair. Not after I lost all hope, not after I died and you lost the part of me that has always belonged to you but you haven't wanted it."

"I was a coward…" Jaskier cleans the tears with the side of his hand feeling like a lost child.

"I don't know if you were a coward or afraid or it's because of me..." 

"...Never, Jaskier, I… I’m sorry. It’s my fault…" 

"I've only wanted to belong, to be important to you"

"You are, Jask. I care about you.."

"I know, Geralt. What I said to Triss was born out of my stupid self-pitying side. I know you've cared about me all these years in so many ways. You've been careful with my feelings, not wanting to compromise more than you can give.” That's the reason he has stayed for so long. He hoped, longed and starved for something more, yeah maybe love, but he never expected it. Geralt never gave him false hope. "But, you have also been unkind and selfless at times. You have denied me the slightest recognition, making me feel small and unimportant, like a thumbed page in your history." The witcher made a wounded noise, and Jaskier hated himself a little for it, but he needed to say it and Geralt needed to hear it. 

“I don't want this, not because I died."

"I'm sorry" Geralt whispers with so much sorrow and reverence, like a defeated man amongst an army of creatures ready to take him apart.  And people said witchers were incapable of emotion. Maybe Jaskier is one of those creatures, and he hates it, it won't help to poke at the witcher's gaping wound, and it wouldn't be fair either, not after Geralt allowed himself to feel it. 

"Come here, Geralt" Jaskier groans when he pulls a little too hard after trying to stretch his arms towards Geralt, who rushes forward and moves the chair closer to take Jaskier by the wrist. "Careful" he says. 

"I wish I could touch you." Damn bandages constricting his hands.

"You'd hurt yourself" as if by compensating Geralt holds him tighter by the wrists, not to hurt but to anchor. They're so very close to one another, breath mingling together, until Jaskier rests his forehead on Geralt's and says in a whisper, only meant for them. "Thank you, darling, for letting me see you. But you must understand..." 

"I do" One of Geralt's hands travels up to his neck and stays there. 

"I want this to be real" more tears escape and Geralt wipes them away. 

"It's real." 

"I don't want to get hurt. Not again" Geralt takes his face between his hands and makes him look at him. This close Jaskier can see the tiny pale scars decorating the witcher's skin. "I won't take anything from you, Jask, not anymore. Let me prove this is real. Let me prove how important you are to me." Maybe it's selfish from Geralt for wanting to keep him after he lost him, and maybe it's selfish of Jaskier for wanting Geralt to need him. 

Jaskier nods against Geralt's palms making the witcher smile before letting him go "I’ve kept you awake long enough, you need to rest." Yeah, he’s really tired. 

Jaskier lays down with Geralt's help, every movement is agony but at least he has a pair of strong hands to support the worst. "I'll be back tomorrow." Geralt says standing next to the bed, suddenly awkward which makes Jaskier snort. Only moments ago he couldn't stop touching Jaskier. "You better."

Geralt looks down to him, a warm smile spreading on his lips "Goodnight, Jaskier." 

-

Jaskier recovery is slow and well… painful. Geralt goes every day with food and a single flower, sometimes when the layers of snow are thick, a twig. 

Jaskier thinks it's adorable, he reminds him of a cat but he doesn't tell Geralt that, of course. 

Ciri comes to visit, she is embarrassed and angry with herself for losing her sword, but before she starts blaming herself -like father like daughter- he throws a piece of stale bread from the morning at her head. 

"Ten points!" he exclaims with a punch in the air.

"You wish! Those are five. Ten is between the eyes." Geralt huffs from the window by the corner

"Excuse me ", Ciri says in a very dignified tone.

"No, five are from the neck below, ten on the head." 

"No, ten between the eyes, five on the head and below you lose." 

"Hey! I'm right here"

"Yeah? Well, here's a hundred points to you!" With all his strength and with exceptional care, Jaskier throws at Geralt the first object he finds on the nightstand, a candle. It barely reaches the middle of the room. 

Geralt chuckles followed by Ciri. "It's not funny" Jaskier pouts, he'd cross his arms if it weren't for the broken ribs that is. A moment later, before they stop laughing, Geralt is looking at him intently, like a cat no less. Jaskier is defenseless under the sun in the witcher's eyes, and he likes it so much that he’s falling addicted with that one look. 

"Jaskier is a brave fool. With or without a sword, he'd have thrown himself in front of the chort to save you." Jaskier's heart is fluttering inside his chest, like a moth trying to reach the sun. "He does whatever he wants" Jaskier huffs, blue eyes still on the suns "And I'm grateful for that." somehow Jaskier knows they're not just talking about the chort and Jaskier doesn't know what to do with those feelings, a lot of them, too afraid to grow, too afraid to hope. Oh, but he's a weak man for hope. I'm weak my love and I'm wanting.

-

"I avoided villages as much as I could when we had enough money."

"Geralt, are you confessing that you are stingy?"

"I wanted you to sing for me at night, after a hunt." 

"Wait, what?" 

"I like your voice when you don't have an audience, it's… softer. It helped me lessen the pain from the toxins of the potions"

"Then why did you always say my voice sounded like a cock with the flu in the open?"

"I like the fishy face you do every time I say something negative about your voice."

"WHAT? I…I don't, no, I...I..." 

"Exactly that face, yeah" 

-

It's past midnight and the keep it's quiet, everyone already sleeping, everyone except for him. He's having one of those nights where the throbbing pain it's becoming a little bit too much. His legs are numb and yet oddly present. He's afraid of breathing normally because the last inhale hurt like a bitch. He feels an irritating pressure in the head that won't let him sleep and…

"Jask?" Geralt it's at the door, but before he can ask what he is doing here so late the witcher is already at his side "Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere"

"Mmmh" 

Geralt purses his lips in that adorable way he does when he's satisfied. "Don't you worry, my dear. Tomorrow morning I'd be as fresh as a daisy"

Geralt rushes to the wardrobe to open it. Jaskier can hear him searching among the vials. "Daisies are usually quiet." 

"Oh I'm sorry am I bothering you with my pain?" And then Geralt walks back to take the usual chair next to Jaskier's bed. He's holding the vial with the numbing salve that Triss brews for him every now and then. 

“The usual." Jaskier huffs and lofty laugh. Geralt puts the vial on the nightstand and reaches for the bandages on the bard's chest. Jaskier whacks at the hand "Hey, no, Triss already changed them.” 

"We have plenty." 

"Geralt..." 

"Jaskier..." and he surrenders under that worried look. Carefully and attentive of every move, the witcher hovers over Jaskier to unwrap the bandages on his chest. The back of his knuckles grazes Jaskier skin every turn. He shivers in delight for that small contact, the pain is now a minor inconvenience. With the bandages gone Geralt can see the palette of colors on the bard skin, black, purple, green, red and yellow in some places, it's not pleasant to the sight so to speak.   

Jaskier suddenly feels self conscious of his body, he has lost weight too, a shadow of his former sexy self. But Geralt doesn't seem to care. "This will help" Geralt deeps two fingers on the vial and Jaskier braces himself for the cold. Geralt has always been methodical and efficient in every task, but this time he's taking his time, applying the salve in small circles on his chest. Jaskier groans, the cold sensation is a relief but the contact hurts all the same. Geralt responds by placing one hand on the back of his head to guide him forward. 

Jaskier rests his forehead on the witcher's shoulder and stays still throughout the process. Geralt smells clean, like lemon soap. Jaskier breathes the scent of his favorite person in all the continent. Like earth and pines, no trace of Roach or onions. 

"Destiny is never wrong. I thought so too, but it has proven me wrong over and over again." Says Geralt above him, now making circles on his left side. "The dandelion on my arm kept me going after...after Renfri." Jaskier is shaking in pain and something more that hurts deeper. He never knew what really happened with Renfri, but he knew she was important to Geralt; he sometimes woke up imploring her name. "I killed her." 

“Geralt”  Jaskier whispers, placing a hand behind the witcher's back, to hold him as much as he can. Geralt is not applying the balm on his back.  

"She gave me no choice.” Jaskier nuzzles his face onto the witcher to offer comfort to both of them. "Your mark appeared a day before her death. I thought destiny was mocking me. A soulmate for a witcher? Come on. But it kept me going, you kept me going regardless of what I thought." Jaskier hisses when Geralt travels to his right side, it hurts the most there. He uses it as an excuse to press closer to the strong body holding him, or is it the other way around? "You've been traveling with me since then." 

"I bet it was quieter," Jaskier says, the fingers of his hand on Geralt's back twitching, caressing through the fabric. 

"Lonelier. Intolerable. A burden. But, yes, quieter" Jaskier hits him lightly on the back. 

Geralt untangle themselves to put Jaskier on the fresh bandages. He starts under Jaskier's armpit.. It's really not necessary but Jaskier presses again against the chest next to him, and Geralt lets him, even if it makes the wrapping a difficult task. 

"You are my destiny, Jaskier." and suddenly he's crying, struggling not to sob to avoid the pain, at least physically. Geralt holds him even after he finishes with the bandages and surprises Jaskier by placing a quick kiss on the top of his head. 

"It's late, you need to rest." Geralt steps aside to put the vial back in the wardrobe. Then he goes back to Jaskier to help him lay down. "Need anything else, water? to pee?" Jaskier smiles and shakes his head "Come here" he says instead "Closer…. Closer!"  When Geralt is close enough Jaskier surges forward as much as he can and places a kiss on the witcher's cheek, right below the eye. "You belong to me too, you know?" Geralt blinks fast "And now who has a fishy face?" It's funny how quickly he leaves the room. Jaskier sleeps with a smile on his face. 

-

"I've never seen Geralt like that. He's making an effort, for once." 

"Yenn, I..."

"Save it, bard. Believe it or not, I'm weirdly ok with whatever you two idiots have." 

"We are not..." 

"There is no a not between you. Was about damn time if you ask me" 

"Yen, I'm sorry..."

"Don't be. What we had was not real. You two are. Do yourself a favor and don't make this easy for him."

-

The day he is able to get up, with a lot of help, he asks Geralt if he can go down for dinner.  

Geralt grabs him by the waist to support his weight all the way down the stairs. Halfway through he starts to regret his decision, with every step the pain grows until he's sweating all over. He hates sweating. The other witchers are already seated on the tables of the main hall, eating and drinking. As soon as he enters everyone grows quiet. He's heaving and groaning which makes him feel embarrassed. In a keep full of strong majestuous Witchers, a weak bard with a few broken ribs it's a nuisance. Geralt helps him sit on the closest table and then goes to the kitchen to fetch them their meal. "Good evening" Jaskier says as loud as he can muster. No one answers. Maybe it will be better if he goes back to his room. And then, Lambert stands up from his seat on another table and goes to sit across from him. Soon after the other witchers follows him, taking their bowls and beers with them. He's suddenly surrounded by handsome and fearsome witchers, Ciri too sits next to him. "We, uhmm, we wanted to, you know?" Lambert makes a complicated gesture with his hands that Jaskier absolutely doesn't understand. “Yeah, so…”   

Cöen slaps him on the head and adds "We wanted to thank you, for saving our cub. For putting your life on the line for her, for us." 

"You don't have to." 

"Oh but we do." Says Vesemir who's entering the hall with Geralt on his back. Geralt reaches his side and offers him a bowl of stew and a piece of fresh bread. "Lambert" Vesemir calls for the younger wolf. 

"Yeah and we are sorry too for not welcoming you properly. We're idiots." 

"We?" says someone in a mocking tone. 

But before Lambert can answer Vesemir interferes "This is a safe place for you, bard." and Jaskier hears this is your home and feels himself crying, but refrains from it. “You’re welcome here anytime”. 

-

"You need shaving," Geralt offers one evening. Which leads Jaskier to be sitting in front of the window with a generous amount of foam on half of his face.  

Geralt is hovering over him with a very dangerous dagger on his hand "You sure this is safe?"

"You better be still." 

"Oh, come on!" Geralt rumbles a laugh and begins to slide the blade with utmost care on the bard's throat. Jaskier watches him mesmerized, completely at his mercy. He could die here, under the eyes like suns warming his skin. He likes this Geralt who's not afraid of touching and caring. He likes to feel loved by his soulmate. "The Djinn taught me that I could lose you." He also likes this Geralt who talks about the past and his feelings, he's nice.  "When I looked at you on Yenn's bed I thought about Renfri. I wanted to wish for destiny to free you and Ciri from me. But I fucked up. I took away Yennefer's choice in the process. Of wanting nothing and wanting no one to need me, I ended up hurting you, all of you." Geralt cleans the excess of foam with a clean cloth, he has finished shaving him but he hasn't stepped aside. Instead he lingers with the cloth on Jaskier's mouth "If only I hadn't made that third wish, not the way I did." 

"It's done, darling, don't beat yourself over it anymore." Geralt's fingers twitch against his bottom lip, the cloth suddenly forgotten. "Maybe I wouldn't have wasted as much time as I did." 

Jaskier raises his hand, withholding the pain, to take Geralt's hand to place kisses on the fingers. "There's still time" 

Geralt laces their fingers together and leans down to kiss the back of Jaskier's hand. They are so close, but still too scared. 

"How do I look?" Jaskier asks, "Good." Geralt lets go of his hand with a growing smile on his face. 

"Oh, come one, I'm sure you have a better review on my looks..."

"You look beautiful". 

-

"I can finally raise my arms to reach for things, it doesn't hurt as much anymore." 

"You're still a duck" Says Lambert while chewing on a bone, these witchers don't have an ounce of decency.

"A sexy duck though." 

“Sure.” 

"Geralt, would you mind passing me that tankard? I want to throw it at Lambert." 

"Yes, love." Geralt answers without thinking and they all stiffen. 

"What did you call him?"

"Yes, what did you call me?" 

"I knew it!" Cries Ciri from the other side of the room. If witchers could blush, Geralt would be the color of a ripe tomato. Triss is giggling and Vesemir is so done with his wolves. 

"I'm going to call my soulmate whatever I want."  Geralt finally emerges from his embarrassment, taking the tankard and passing it to Jaskier.  

"Yeah, he's calling me whatever he wants" Says Jaskier just before throwing the tankard at Lambert's head. 

"Ten points!" Ciri yells

"Five!" yells Geralt back from somewhere. 

-

"Love, uh?" Jaskier teases him.

"I'm sorry." Geralt sighs "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable"

"Me? Puff! no, not at all. On the contrary" By this point Jaskier has reached the witcher by the wardrobe, he takes the clothes that he is folding and places it inside without care.  

"Surprised? yes. Uncomfortable? no." Geralt groans and Jaskier identifies it as embarrassed. Aren't they domestic? Ugh, Jaskier could throw up and probably Geralt too. 

Jaskier grabs him by the waistline of his trousers to pull him towards him. In another time that gesture would have been too flirty for Geralt, now he welcomes it. 

"Why now, Geralt?" the witcher in question who was distracted by the bard's proximity until now replies. "What?"

"I told you, I don't want this just because I died." And just like that the conversation shifts to one that could leave them both hurt. 

"No." 

"No? Then it's because you're no longer with Yen?" oh, that does hurt like shit. But they have to have this conversation, Jaskier has to make sure. 

"What? No. I'm not with her because it wasn't real" 

"It seemed pretty real to me," says Jaskier petulantly. Geralt took him by the elbows bringing him impossibly closer. His hands travel down to Jaskier's forearm leaving a trace of embers behind. 

"This is real." Geralt whispers and caresses the mark on Jaskier's wrist. His mark. 

"Since when?" 

"Since the beginning."

"That's not true, Geralt. Don't lie to me." the bard's voice brakes but doesn't falter. 

"I'm not." Jaskier tries to get away but Geralt holds him. "I've always wanted you. That's the reason I wanted so desperately be away from you."

"How reassuring."

"You're perfect for me, Jask. No one else is. A bard who talks and talks to compensate for what I won't say. A noble who left behind everything to follow a witcher and follow his dreams. A poet, the occasional thief and mediator. Many of my hunts could have gone wrong without you, especially the payment.” They laughed in unison. And then Geralt took him by the chin and looked into his eyes. "These eyes..." says Geralt like a prayer "Beautiful," Jaskier felt like a teenager all over again, that eighteen year old boy who found his soulmate in a shitty tavern and didn't know what to do with his beating blushing heart. 

"Why now?" Jaskier asks again, looking into the witcher's eyes, he finds something he has always wanted but never dared to expect. 

"I was a coward, and I was afraid. I don't want to be afraid anymore" There's so much emotion inside Geralt right now, he doesn't know what to do with them. He's been afraid of them all this time. He rests his forehead against Jaskier and breathes in his scent. He smells like orange blossom and rain. 

"Then don't be." 

"Jaskier," Jaskier's heart breaks a little.

"My soulmate." whispers Jaskier against his ear "Let it go." 

"Would you let me?" Geralt asks, now buried on Jaskier's shoulder. "I understand if you don't, I don't deserve you after what I did..."

"Let it go, darling. I've got you." 

Geralt nuzzles the tender skin where shoulder meets neck, and plants a kiss there. "My soulmate."

Something shifts in Geralt, he grabs Jaskier by the hips and surges forward, their lips colliding. They kiss like drowning people, and maybe they were. It's everything a kiss with your soulmate should be, full of longing, love and devotion. Their tongues dancing, savoring each other. Geralt groans, his soulmate tastes wonderful. Jaskier tries to lift his hands to guide Geralt's kisses, a fucking mistake, he doubles over in pain breaking the moment, in the only way he can. By being stupid. 

Geralt's worried expression appears in his line of vision "Did I hurt you?" Jaskier laughs but that brings even more pain.   

"No dear. It's my fault. Why don't we take this kissing session to my bed so I can't hurt myself anymore." 

"We're not fucking, Jaskier." Adds Geralt exasperated. 

"Now, that's a thought." 

"Jaskier." warns Geralt.

"No, truly I need to lay down, I think something broke."

On the bed, Geralt lays next to him. They kiss and caress under clothes carefully. Jaskier loves him so much. His soulmate, his witcher, his Geralt. 

"You know people say that sex with your soulmate is amazing." 

"Jaskier, no." 

"Jaskier, yes!"

This is it, folks! As usual sorry for the mistakes, bla bla bla.

Hope you like it. I don't have the time to edit it :( I'm an adult.

@mordoriscalling @dustbunnyprophet @fintenciate @kore888 @geekymagicalpotato @gregre369 @theshapeofcool @janjan-the-ninth @zarakem @j-u-s-tmyself @life-as-a-gamergirl @melodymeddler @lawrites07 @youknowwhoiam3490-blog @help-help-i-need-an-adultlt @janjan-the-ninth @strangerzaiah @everything-but-the-not-natural /

Sorry if I forgot to tag someone, love you <3 stay safe and drink water

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