#you tried eating plain crust before

[totallynotpossessedfredbear]

1. Sir do you think your daughter might be autistic

2. Sir do you think your yourself might be autistic

Why would I be autistic? Charlie however...possibly.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Sick

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of the Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You get sick

It starts off easy enough.

You have a little headache but you get those a lot because Morsa says you don't drink enough water.

At dinner, your tummy feels a little icky and your Momma lets you only eat half your food after you burst into tears when she tries to make you eat more.

By the next day, everything is even worse.

Your head pounds. Your tummy rolls. Your body is sweaty and gross.

You groan as your bedroom door opens. Your bottom lip wobbles as you look at Momma before tears leak down your cheeks.

"Oh, princesse," She says, voice dripping in worry," What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

You tug fruitlessly at your pyjama top. "Off!" You demand through your tears. "Off!"

Momma approaches and the first thing she does is lay the back of her hand against your forehead. She breathes out a loud breath before she helps you take off your top.

You feel a little better but still quite hot and you whine when you're pulled into her arms.

She walks you to the Big Bed where Morsa is standing getting dressed.

She frowns when she sees the pair of you. "Hey," She says," I thought you were going to start breakfast."

"The princesse is sick," Momma replies," Here, take her. I'll call Emma and tell her that we're not coming in and grab some medicine."

Magda takes you instantly, tucking your head into her neck, before asking," We're not going in?"

"Princesse has a great immune system," Pernille says, already leaving to grab her phone," If she's sick, it's bad. We can't take her into training today."

"I think Sam said she had the flu a few days ago. Were we meant to take the princesse for a shot?"

"Probably," Pernille replies," But what's done is done. Get back into bed, all nice and cosy with her and pray she doesn't throw up on you."

●～●～●～●～

Momma comes back quickly but you don't really notice because your head feels bad and your nose is stuffy. Morsa is dragging her cool nails over your bare back and that kind of makes you feel better but not by much.

An in-ear thermometer checks how hot you are but you still don't pay attention to anything but how icky you're feeling.

"Not warm enough to go to hospital," Momma says over your head," But bad enough we need to keep an eye on her."

Morsa nods. "And medicine?"

"Right here. Want to give it to her?"

A syringe is placed in your mouth and Morsa shoots a few shots of medicine down your throat. Usually, you'd fight her on it but your limbs feel all weak and your head feels too heavy on her chest so you just go limp.

It doesn't help the icky feelings inside of you but you can't be bothered to see if moving will help either.

You retch though and Magda looks at Pernille with alarm. Pernille, well-practised in dealing with a sick version of you, pulls out a large cardboard sick bowl that Magda recognises she brought home with her months ago when she got a concussion.

It's rested underneath your chin as you retch again but, ultimately it's unneeded because you just breathe out a shaky, rattling breath and rest your head back on Magda's chest.

Magda looks at Pernille sceptically. "Do we really need that?"

Pernille gives her an unimpressed look. "Yes, we need it. Unless you want throw up on you like when she was a baby, then yes."

Magda wrinkles her nose. She loves you dearly but that period of time where you spat up part of everything you ate wasn't fun and she would hate to relive it.

●～●～●～●～

Eventually, the three of you migrate from the Big Bed to the sofa and Momma takes over for Morsa, who heads to the kitchen to make some plain toast.

It's all you can stomach but even nibbling a little bit of the crust is enough to make you retch. This time though, something comes up and the sick bowl is pressed under your chin to catch everything.

The moment it's over, you burst into tears. You had been so good all day and now you're sobbing and heaving every few breaths.

"I know, I know," Momma bounces you as Morsa disposes of the evidence," It's okay. It's better that it came out. You're such a strong girl, princesse. So strong and so brave and I wish I could make it better for you."

You doze off into a restless sleep soon after that, your body limp and sweaty.

Pernille passes you off to Magda. "I'm going to shower," She says," I'll try to be quick but I need to wash my hair. Keep her temperature down, no new medicine for another half an hour or so. If she wakes up, give her fluids and if she starts crying, she needs kisses."

Magda nods dutifully, slightly in awe of the way this comes to Pernille like second nature despite the fact that you rarely get ill.

You're settled for the most part and content to sleep but when you're reaching the twentieth minute or so of Pernille being gone you whine as you stir.

"Cold," You grunt," Wan' blanket."

"No, princesse," Magda says as she wipes a cold compress against your forehead," You're body's tricking you. You're very warm." So warm that you still haven't put on a t-shirt because your skin makes it so you're too sweaty and overheated within an instant.

"Cold," You insist," Blanket."

"No, princesse," Magda says again," You're warm."

You're slightly delirious and still very sleepy so you just kind of nod and let your eyes slip closed again, your forehead knocking against Magda's collarbone as you slip off to sleep again.

"Mmm," You hum in your sleep before your body is racked with coughs.

Pernille returns with hair that's still slightly damp. "I've run the bath. We'll get her into it to see if it helps her fever."

You're whiny and crying when you get in and don't stop until you puke up more of your food - although at this point it's mainly stomach acid - and all it does is cause a fresh wave of tears from everyone in the house.

"It'll be over quickly," Pernille promises Magda as she decides that it's better if they order dinner and curl up in bed for the rest of the day," Much quicker than when Sam was sick. Her immune system just got a little blindsided by this one."

"Can her immune system catch up with this sickness soon?" Magda says as you gag weakly," Because I think I'm a few more minutes away from joining her in tears."

"It'll be soon," Pernille promises," We just have to get through these first few hours."

As the pair of them curl into bed together, your fever rages on and you remain shirtless, whining and crying while being fed crackers and forced to drink your water

●～●～●～●～

Your fever continues to rage on for hours but finally breaks and thus Pernille and Magda's torment at four in the morning. Your breathing is back to normal but you're completely wiped out.

Magda feels the same, her eyes drooping as Pernille checks your temperature one last time, thankful that it's gone down to normal levels.

They're as exhausted as you so neither make a move to put you in your big girl bed.

Magda's hand reaches out from the cocoon of blankets to smack at Pernille.

"Text Emma," She says through a sleep-hazed mood," Tell her that y/n's still sick. And...And that we won't be coming in."

"Good...Good call," Pernille replies, blinking blearily," Let's hope that y/n sleeps till past noon. Then, at least, one of us will get some decent rest."

[flamingtouya]

𝐜𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 — 𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐢/𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐚

word count: 1262

cw: none other than dabi's foul language

summary: dabi encounters a cat. i continue to spoon-feed this man happiness. based on this prompt by the lovely @scarlettcryptid ♡

Before he knows it, a quiet ‘Pss-pss-pss’ leaves his lips.

He tries it all.

Clicking his tongue, saying - whispering - ��Here, stupid fucking kitty”, because god forbid someone hears. Slowly putting his hand out, some more ‘Pss-pss’-ing - anything that had worked on the neighbours’ cats when Fuyumi did it.

Here he sits; Todoroki Touya, a man stripped of all dignity at the sight of a fat cat.

The concrete is cold underneath his palm. Dabi welcomes April’s spring breeze, a strand of jet black hair tickling his cheek as he pulls the strings of his hoodie tighter. The dewy scent of the morning air is overtaken by the intense smell of steaming hot Yakitori, fresh off the grill, bought - not stolen - bought with his own, hard-earned cash money. (That, admittedly, he had stolen.)

You’ve got to indulge, the vendor had shouted, in the little pleasures! Treat yourself to life's delectable delights! Two plus two, Weekday special! Don’t miss out on-

“Screw you,” he’d told her, shoving the money on the little silver tray next to the register, scowling when she still served him with a bright smile, one that reminded him of Fuyumi’s excited grin every time she’d successfully pulled off a trick on her beautifully painted Kendama. Fuyumi would be so upset, he thinks, if she knew where he gets his food from these days.

He pulls the first skewer from the paper box, diligently inspecting a grain of Szechuan pepper. Dabi hasn’t laid eyes upon a spice in months - especially not one this pricey.

No, ever since he’s made a temporary home in the outer area of the city, it’s been nothing but dumpster diving and collecting restaurant leftovers for him. Stale bread. Expired cookies. Plain rice, cooked in an old bean can. Salted butter. Some Chili powder on top of his potatoes, if the old man at the soup kitchen was feeling generous.

Compared to the barely digestible nutrients his body runs on, the sight mere inches from his face is a divine gift.

After turning it over once more he finally takes a small bite, careful to pull the piece of chicken off the skewer with his front teeth. He’s become even more sensitive to temperature lately, and his teeth are the most annoying aspect. Not the sizzling of his flesh when he overuses his quirk, not the burn behind his eyes as they go dry. Those he’s gotten used to rather quickly. But when most of the food you eat is either cold or poorly reheated, the sensation of something hot is bound to cause major discomfort.

It’s not as bad as he expects. Neither the temperature sensitivity nor the taste. He begins to chew more boldly, savouring the harmonious balance between onion and garlic, sea salt and pepper, topped with tare sauce and just a hint of lemon. Say about the outskirt markets what you will, but those street food vendors do know how to grill a chicken.

Dabi doesn’t notice how quiet it’s gotten until something chirps behind him.

A cat.

A rather well-fed cat.

A cat that technically isn’t overweight, but its thick fur coat still makes it look a little fat.

Black with a white tummy and some spots of orange near its paws, sitting two arms’ lengths away. Its eyes follow the skewer as he moves it to one side, then the other, then dangles it upside down. Some grease drips onto the grass of the porch he’s sitting on. He finishes the remaining pieces of chicken and pulls out the second skewer, eyes shifting between his precious meal and the overly attentive cat.

Finally, he decides to pinch off a small piece, chewing at the spiced crust until it’s gone. He tosses the plain chicken towards the cat but to his surprise, it flinches and retreats behind a large flower pot.

The little fucker.

Wasted half a bite of perfectly good food.

Dabi turns his attention back towards his steaming Yakitori. Some time passes. He doesn’t know if it’s seconds or minutes that he zones out looking at the flowering apricot tree in the distance, but he’s pulled back to reality by soft chewing noises. Careful not to make another sudden movement he shifts a bit, just enough to look over his shoulder. Sure enough, the feline is greedily nibbling at the slice of meat. The two of them make brief eye contact before turning their attention back to their respective meals.

The sound behind him subsides shortly after and is replaced by a soft purring, one that he knows isn’t directed at him. He lets the cat have another piece from his third skewer nonetheless, this time giving it a gentle toss so it lands a few inches closer.

Still visibly tense, it takes a few steps forward and sniffs at the chicken before gulping it down in a few bites. Greedy shit, Dabi thinks, as he sacrifices yet another precious piece. He puts it down at his side, rubbing his fingers together. The cat’s attention is on the meat immediately, ears twitching as it courageously inches closer towards Dabi. He finishes the last of his Yakitori, never breaking eye contact with the cowardly little furball next to him.

Before he knows it, a quiet ‘Pss-pss-pss’ leaves his lips.

He tries it all.

Clicking his tongue, saying - whispering - “Here, stupid fucking kitty”, because god forbid someone hears. Slowly putting his hand out, some more ‘Pss-pss’-ing - anything that had worked on the neighbours’ cats when Fuyumi did it.

Here he sits; Todoroki Touya, a man stripped of all dignity at the sight of a fat cat.

After a thorough standoff, the cat’s curiosity gets the better of it. It keeps its stomach low as it sneaks across the ground, stretching its long neck to sniff at the finger that Dabi used to pull the Yakitori off the skewer earlier.

“If you bite me, I’m sending you to the coat factory.”

As if that theory was being tested, Dabi feels a sudden nip at his fingers. Cursing, he pulls back slightly, only to see the mischievous fucker’s pupils go wider. He wipes the bits of chicken grease off in the dewy grass and offers his palm again, checking both sides of the street to make sure nobody’s looking.

As if to taunt him, the little furball pounces and takes a swipe at Dabi’s hand before he can turn his attention back to the porch. It chatters in surprise when the man pulls away just in time.

Fucker, as Dabi decides to dub this newfound enemy of his, darts toward his other hand where he’s drawing lazy patterns on the concrete. With its claws half out and its tail puffed up, it races toward the wall, around the flower pot and jumps back onto the lawn to take another playful swing at Dabi’s limbs. Minutes later, he’s got the little menace chasing his fingers in circles, losing balance here and there and rolling over ever so often.

He’s focused, eagerly following the cat’s every move, trying to predict its attacks by the flick of its tail, an ear twitch, pupils that narrow ever so slightly before it leaps forward.

He’ll never admit it. That for once, there’s a sudden lack of grief in his heart.

Only when the first ray of sunshine hits the outer edge of the garden does he let himself fall backwards. The cat is but a purring weight on his thigh, stretching its paws across his lap with the softest ‘Meow’. Eyes closed and arms stretched out, he inhales slowly and holds his breath until he feels his pulse slow down. Dabi doesn’t care that his hair is getting a little wet, doesn’t care that the grass tickling his ears stings a little, doesn’t care that he’ll probably have red marks on his hands for a while.

If he shuts his eyes hard enough, he might still be able to convince himself that Touya is dead.

[bibiwrld]

The Sweet Babysitter🧁🎀| Miguel O’Hara

previously: –three.

–four.

KENEDI’S POV

I sighed coming out of the relaxing hot shower. Today was a long day, as my boss’ nephew visited the company for some important meeting, and refused to leave after the meeting was done. So I was told to “keep him company”, which was basically him flirting with me and me saying “mhm” while answering endless calls.

With the towel wrapped around me, I walked to the guest room. Checking my phone to see it was 3:50, I had exactly 10 minutes before Gabriella arrived from school.

After drying off and lotioning my skin, I put on the clothes I brought with me. A plain light green halter top, a denim skirt that stopped mid thigh and brown slippers.

I sat on the bed and called Miguel. I bit my lip in anticipation as it rang.

“Kenedi.” He answered with a strong bass in his voice.

My knees pressed together. “Hi Miguel, just wanted to let you know that I’m at the house, thanks again for letting me use the shower.”

“It’s really no problem, you’re welcome.” He replied.

I began twirling my braids. “Is there anything Gabriella loves to eat when she gets home from school?”

He responded almost immediately, I found that so cute. “Grilled cheese and chocolate milk. She loves the crust, so you don’t have to cut them off.”

I smiled. “Got it, anything else I should know?”

“The emergency money is in the little dish by the tv counsel, Gabby knows how to bathe herself, but if she might ask you to do it for her.” He chuckled to himself. “Also when I get home we can discuss your pay.”

“Okay, thank you Miguel.”

“No problem, see you later.”

I hung up and made my way downstairs and I heard a knock at the door. I opened to see a sweaty Gabriella.

She grinned and walked in. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

I closed the door and went into kitchen, opening the fridge. I awed at her words, feeling all warm inside.

She put her lunch bag on the kitchen island.

I scanned the fridge for ingredients I need. I looked back at her. “You hungry?”

She nodded with a grin.

“Okay, I’m gonna make you a grilled cheese with chocolate milk.” I pulled out a bag of sliced bread, a slice of cheddar cheese and butter.

Her brows rose and mouth opened in somewhat shock. “How do you know those are my favorites?” She gave a smug smile then pointed a finger at me. “My Papá told you.”

I giggled. “That’s not true at all, it’s magic.”

Her eyes brightened. “You’re a magical princess!”

I twirled around the kitchen laughing. “Yes I am.”

She watched me in amazement.

I stopped twirling and leaned on the kitchen counter, looking at her. “If you take a bath and come back down your favorite foods will be here waiting for you.”

She perked up and raced upstairs with her backpack on her back. “I’ll be back!”

🎀

Gabriella was such an energetic kid and she’s so fun to be around. We played princess and had a little tea party after she showed me a pink poofy dress that she adored so much.

I made her French fries and chicken tenders, I tried to make them dinosaur shaped, but they looked like blobs to me.

She fell asleep on the couch whilst we were watching My Little Pony. After carefully carrying her up to her room, I scrolled through my phone waiting for Miguel, as it was quite late.

Speaking of Miguel, the door opened to reveal him. His tall stature was in a crouched position, his eyes were quite tired.

His expression changed and posture straightened when he saw me, giving me a heart throbbing smile. “Good night, Kenedi.”

“Good night.” I loved the way he said my name. “You look quite tired, do you need anything?”

He rubbed his left eye and sat across from me. “I’m okay. How was she today? Was she good?”

I nodded. “Very fun, no problems at all. She’s sleeping right now.”

He sighed in relief with closed eyes. “I always thought the divorce would somehow get to her, making her lash out maybe, but so far there’s been nothing.”

“She’s probably still processing it, she’s a very smart girl.” I told him, leaning forward.

He hummed and breathed out. He looked exhausted, resting his head back with closed eyes. “You’re probably right, but I think I should explain it to her.”

My eyes scanned him while he wasn’t looking. His chest hair was slightly exposed from 2 buttons being unbuttoned. “I agree.”

His pink lips were pressed together, upwards to the ceiling, his necktie slightly loosened, sleeves rolled up, displaying his hairy arms. The way his chest rose and fell should be criminal, as his muscles tightened around his clothes when he inhaled. His large hands were veiny— was he even tensing?

What would they feel like around my delicate neck?

I unconsciously bit my lip and put a hand on my thigh.

These thoughts I’m having— my goodness is this a crush???

I’m so shameless. Here I am ogling this tired man while he talks about his daughter and his divorce, and I’m wondering how many seconds it would take him to make me cum with those rough, large fingers of his.

I blinked and rubbed my head, trying to collect myself. “Miguel?”

“Hmm?” He groaned.

Was he sleeping?

“We have to discuss my pay, Miguel.” I spoke in a small voice.

Light snores were his only response. Wow, he was really tired.

I got up curiously, staring at his sleeping body.

He’s even more beautiful when he’s sleeping.

I internally sighed.

I can’t leave him down here.

“Miguel.” I tapped him. “You have to go to your room.” I lightly shook him.

He stirred around and lifted his head to me, his dark eyes meeting mine.

My heart banged against my chest. “Y-you have to get up.”

He sat up and rubbed his face. “Did I fall asleep?” A hint of embarrassment in his voice.

“Yes, but it’s okay. I understand your exhaustion.” I assured him. “I’ll help you up to your room.”

He leaned up then rose to his feet, grabbing his work bag. “Gracias, hermosa.”

I don’t think I know what that second word means, but I’m hoping it was something good. I aided to his side as he walked up the stairs. My arm rested on his lower back, his larger arm over my shoulder as I rested my hand on it.

I could combust on the spot.

We finally made it to his room and he left my side and lazily walked to his bed, leaving me at the doorway.

He dropped his bag on the floor and sat on his bed, loosening his necktie and taking it off.

My body began heating up at the sight of him undressed himself. He was now unbuttoning his shirt— does he know that I’m still here?

I looked down. “Um..uh..goodnight, sir.” I glanced back up and he was looking at me.

“I’m sorry, I forgot you were there.” He apologized. “My mind’s all fuzzy.”

“It’s okay.”

He gave me a lazy smile. “Thank you and goodnight. Drive safely and text me when you get home so I know you’re okay.”

My eyes grew a little wide. “Uh yes, but you might be asleep when I text you.”

He replied with a grogginess in his voice. “I’ll try to stay up for your text.”

I smiled to myself. “Okay, thank you. I’m going now, I’ll lock the door.”

And with that I left.

I locked his door with the key he gave me and left it under the plant pot.

After arriving home I texted him immediately, biting my thumb and waiting for his response.

Miguel

See? I waited

Sleep well <3

My whole body grew warm at his text.

I’m crushing on a divorced, 30 year old man with a daughter.

🎀

Next part: –five.

[the-type-a]

Some of my Duncney headcanons because you said you'd like to be spammed :)

- whenever they have lucky charms duncan always eats all of the marshmallows out of the box and leaves courtney with the plain cereal

-courtney doesn't like the crust on her sandwiches so duncan will eat it for her

-courtney is always the first to wake up in the morning, but sometimes duncan will turn off her alarm a day in advance just so he can spend more time with her

-in a world where total drama doesnt exist they always meet through mutual friends i dont know why but thats a rule

-He'll purposefully hide behind corners to scare her and it works 98% of the time but she grows used to it at some point

-they adopt a big threatening looking dog and name it princess and give it a pink collar or something

-when theyre teenagers shes at his house 99% of the time because it just feels so homey compared to hers

-they both wear glasses when theyre alone at home, dont ask why i just think its cute

-When they're not even that far into their relationship, he gets a tattoo of her name in cursive right above his collarbone or something because hes impulsive and she thinks its so thoughtful but also so incredibly stupid of him

-I headcanon that duncan has adhd and maybe a little bit of dyslexia so if he can't read something too well she'll read it to him

-She listens to him ramble and even if the topic changes 5 times she'll be there to add on and nod her head

-They go to the gym together and are SOOO competitive but are each other's biggest supporters at the same time

-She lets him give her a piercing at least once because he never shuts up about it

-She'll help him dye his hair

-Duncan's nose whistles while he sleeps because he has a crooked septum and Courtney complains about it at first but at some point it actually becomes really soothing and she'll wait for him to fall asleep first every night because the whistling helps her sleep

-Courtney cant cook for the life of her and she's jealous of him because he's one of the best cooks she's ever met. She'll follow a recipie to a T and it'll still turn out terrible, meanwhile he measures everything with his heart and it always turns out SO good.

-Duncan can sleep anywhere and everywhere meanwhile she'll be kept up by the littlest things. He knows this and will go to extreme measures just to make sure she's comfortable.

-Say they go to a restaurant and they get her order wrong. His first instinct is to tell off the waiter himself, but he knows she'll be pissed because she can fight her own battles, so he'll just support her in the background like "you heard the lady."

-He sleeps with socks on and it makes her SO mad

-Although he's hard to read, she can always tell when he's nervous because he twists around one of the studs in his ear.

-they both love cartoons

-They both get jealous so easily and it's a turn on for both of them when the other is jealous

-He listens to her work drama and gets soo invested. He'll say stuff like "You know I never liked that bitch" or "No I literally would've done the same thing If i were you-"

-He always thinks he's paying the bill at restaurants but she'll say she's going to the bathroom only to give them her card instead. He never finds out and takes so much pride in it.

-Duncan literally owns spiders but is terrified of something harmless like a moth or a ladybug. He instantly yells and forces Courtney to kill them instead.

-Before he leaves for work she'll kiss him and her lipstick will leave a mark on his face and she purposefully wont tell him

-He always takes pictures of her when she's not looking and sends them to their friends because he thinks she looks most beautiful when she doesn't even know it

-She tries to teach him spanish and he only picks up on the swears

-They both have terrible road rage. Like they should not be allowed to drive

-She gets addicted to something like candy crush or Hayday and he has to take her phone from her for her own safety

-Their playlists are so different but hand either one of them the aux and they always sing every word together

That's all I can think of right now 😂 but i hope atleast some of these sound in character for them

I loved every single one of these!

- tbh… I think Courtney would like that Duncan takes all the marshmallows from lucky charms. Idk they seem kinda gross and unnecessary… don’t hate me 👀

- Okay the crust one is so cute if it were Dramarama Duncney! Imagine her at lunch time and just pouting so much until Duncan asks her what’s wrong? Then he makes fun of her for “being a baby” and eats it for her. Then she vows to never let that happen again so she starts trying all the food things she hates.

- Duncan shuts Courtney’s alarm off ONE TIME and all hell breaks loose. She’s scrambling, cursing, and Duncan is just sitting there like “It’s Saturday.”

- Ah, the KB5 never fails us at setting up a Duncney meet up. Valid.

- The one where Duncan is trying to scare her constantly is so funny because I can just imagine her getting so used to it that doesn’t even phase her anymore. Like one day she’s going through the mail and he pops out and she completely ignored him and shoves a bill in his face 😅

- Oh they absolutely adopted a dog and name her princess! She’s a meany to the world but to her parents? Oh, she’s the biggest baby!

- Oh man, the one with Courtney being at Duncan’s house 24/7? YES. It makes me sad tbh, but I completely agree. Her household is just so strict that if you even sleep in past a normal waking hour her parents are hounding her for it. So going to Duncan’s is so refreshing and his family absolutely adores her so they don’t even mind. Heck, sometimes Duncan gets home and Courtney’s just chilling with his mom.

- Duncney in glasses is so CUTE. I need fanart of it asap! Courtney’s always worn them but has her contacts in almost constantly. Duncan refuses to acknowledge he needs them until the very last minute because he HATES being compared to his dad on any level. And it’s canon that his dad has glasses lmao

- Imagine Duncan sneaking into Courtney’s room like, “Sup, Babe. Check it out.” and just pulls his shirt off to show her. Meanwhile Courtney’s just sitting in her bed like how the fuck did you get into my room and why the fuck is my name on you?! Then she’s like “Awe, that’s so cute.” and Duncan’s all “I’m not cute.”

- Omfg yes! Imagine Duncan reading Courtney’s published book?! Imagine him wanting her to read whatever little mini story she has written for herself? I HC her as always writing away whenever she’s super stressed and sometimes they turn into cute little stories with an actual plot.

- Courtney loves when Duncan talks about his passions. There’s never just one, he has like a billion ideas and dreams and he never forgets to add the “And I want you along side me through it all.” She absolutely gushes about it on the inside!

- I fucking love gym Duncney! They have their own workouts but always ALWAYS scan the floor to check on each other. Whenever Courtney finds him checking her out he winks and she blushes no matter how long they’ve been together. And of course they are popping up whenever anyone comes up to the other trying to flirt. Hell no, they shut that shit down 😂

- Courtney’s had her ears pierced since she was three months old (Latinos say I) so whenever Duncan suggests more piercings she’s always like, “I already have my ears done.” So he suggests her bellybutton so much that she eventually lets him and it’s the scariest thing to hide from her parents until she moves out.

- Courtney has a little green tint to her fingertips because she’s ditched using gloves a long time ago. Duncan insists they only get in the way 🙄 So when people joke around with the, “Oh, looks like someone has a green thumb!” She looks down and is like, “Nope, just my boyfriends hair dye.”

- Courtney’s the type of person who needs complete and total silence and darkness to fall asleep. At first she’s constantly waking Duncan up or turning him the other way so she can at least fall asleep. Eventually she realizes it’s comforting because she knows he’s with her and whenever he’s at work or something she literally cannot sleep until he’s home. It’s a problem lmao

- No because the cooking one hit a little too close to home LMAO. Honestly, WHY are guys so good at cooking out of nowhere? Not fair. Anyway, yes. Courtney knows a few dishes but they never compare to her Abuela’s/Mom’s cooking. But Duncan? Oh, his Nonna practically dragged him into the kitchen to help her at such a young age that he’s a natural. That’s the one person in his life that he truly can say loves him unconditionally (besides Courtney of course).

- It literally pisses Courtney off so much at how quickly Duncan can fall asleep.

- Going to a restaurant is scary for the both of them. Not only do they have to dodge paparazzi, but there is almost always a problem. It can be the food, the people, or just something plain like the restaurant being out of the one thing both of them wanted. They’d much rather stay at home to avoid a scene lol

- Courtney WILL wait until Duncan’s knocked out to take those damn socks off.

- Goodness, YES. Duncan will never show emotion, he’s constantly with his poker face but Courtney just knows when something is up. She can tell by the tone of his voice and his body language. Then the little stud twist? Done deal. She is getting him the hell out of there and trying to calm him down.

- Duncan loves watching cartoons like family guy, American dad, etc. while Courtney just enjoys the childhood reruns like Kim Possible lmao. Sometimes Duncan will come home and catch her binge watching something cute like that.

- Before Duncney are in their mature stage of their relationship they are definitely pulling strings on each other. They get in a fight? Bet. Watch me go flirt with this girl or guy just to piss you off enough to snap. It’s toxic af but it works for them in some weird kinda way.

- Duncan absolutely hates listening and LIKING the work gossip Courtney talks about. At first he’s so annoyed and tries to change the subject but one time when Bridgette is over Courtney is telling a story and he’ll catch himself either correcting her or being like, “Don’t forget she did this too.”

- Ah Duncan. The king of never checking his monthly billing statements that would so clearly indicate he has in fact NOT paid for a date for months.

- Hm, I think duncan would lie and say he “can’t kill a lady bug because it’s so pure to the world.” or something along those lines. In reality he’s terrified.

- Hell yeah, Courtney! Tell everyone that’s YOUR man. I’m cheering her on with this one. 💅🏼

- Courtney has the GC on dnd because Geoff is always blowing it up in the middle of the night. So when she randomly checks it after a long day she’s just scrolling through like 20 pictures of herself drinking coffee or fixing her hair. Then DJ, the supportive king is always like, “Awe, those are nice.”

- Courtney teaching Duncan Spanish 🤝🏼 Duncan teaching Courtney Italian

- We all watched celebrity manhunt. Those two need their licenses suspended immediately.

- Imagine Courtney playing candy crush LMAO. She’s one of those people who are always like, “I could never get so consumed by a game like that.” Then downloads it during covid and is up ALL NIGHT and Duncan’s just like concerned 💀

- OMFG YES YES YES! Duncney’s playlist are so so different but they know each others taste and everything. If Duncan blasts some punk rock Courtney knows the chorus and even does a little air guitar when it’s time. And Duncan will never ever in a million years admit it but whenever Courtney plays her music? If he’s belting out those babies with her. And the ballads?!? Oh, it’s beautiful.

[yeehawbvby]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 26

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Time for y/n's first Dance of the Moonlight Jellies!!

Author’s Note: OOPS I MADE A PLAYLIST :3 I hope it doesn't suck!

Enjoy the super fluffy holiday chapter, take care <3 x

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

After Seb finished de-stinking himself from sleep and Manual Labor™, we went to Pierre’s for some last-minute ingredients and supplies. The blueberry cream pie turned out to be a success, which shocked us both! I haven’t baked in years and Seb’s kitchen skills are typically limited to chopping up raw fish and microwaving frozen pizzas. 

The jammy bloobs came out decadently sweet. The equally sweet and tangy cream cheese concoction below them was the perfect balance between fluffy enough to melt in the mouth, and firm enough to hold the weight of the berries. The crust came out just a tad burnt, but the buttery crunch was a nice contrast to the rest of the dessert. We fuckin’ nailed it.

I split the pie in half, letting Seb take some home to share with Robin (and Maru and Demetrius, if he so desires). The rest is allll mine, baby. 

As soon as Seb leaves, I steal another slice. Once I’m full of enough sugar to give me palpitations, I begin divvying up some blueberries to gift to a few villagers around town. I found some cute, small, palm-sized straw baskets at Pierre’s, as well as some gift tags to tie to their handles. The baskets seem to be meant for decorative purposes, but I figured they’d be the perfect vessels to hand out these puppies with.

I’m gonna give Sam some, as well as Leah, Marnie, Willy, Gus, Magnus, and Abby. I try to set it up so everyone has an equal-ish amount, and work hard to make the plain gift tags look real cute with calligraphy and shit. I subconsciously wind up decorating Magnus’ tag a little more than the others, though. 

While I work, Cannoli gives me those big, needy eyes, like he wants some berries of his own. I give him a small one, but quickly realize my error, as he proceeds to try and eat some more directly from my gardening basket. 

“Get outta there,” I giggle, scooping him up in one arm. He meows in protest as I place him across the room, hoping he’ll take the hint.

Next, I rush around town with my basket full of… smaller baskets. I’m hoping to get my crops to everyone before the sun kisses the horizon. People will probably be preparing for tonight’s jellyfish migration once it’s dark, and I don’t wanna get in the way of that.

I’m too shy to greet Abby in her room, so I leave her portion of berries with her dad. Hopefully they’ll make it to her… I’ve heard Pierre sometimes sells other farmers’ produce, at a higher price than what he gave them, claiming he grew the crops himself. Loser. 

Sam tries to keep me to himself, after raving about how cool it is that I managed to grow so many blueberries on my first try, but I reject him with a big comfy hug in favor of doing my other deliveries. Gus and Willy both express pride in my hard work, making me feel all fuzzy inside. And Marnie and Leah both voice how grateful they are, but Leah adds a hug and a kiss to my cheek for emphasis. Spirits or Yoba or whoever, please help. Such a simple peck from her had me weak in the knees. I’m not sure my poor heart can take this.

Given my interaction with Magnus earlier, I’m a bit nervous for our next one, so I don’t give him his blueberries face-to-face either. I place them in front of his door in hopes that he’ll sense my presence, and come retrieve them sooner than later. Don’t want any squirrels (or that chunky tanuki) to get to ‘em first.

Swiftly, I scurry away, but am caught red-handed when Magnus telepathically invades me. “What are you doing?”

I stop in my tracks, stifling a giggle, but slowly begin walking again after a few breaths. Hoping that if I don’t respond, he’ll ignore me. Just as I pass the bottom of the cliff, the door to the tower swings open with a creak.

“(Y/n), I know you’re–” 

He cuts himself off, and I hear a faint chuckle as I try my best not to crunch any branches below my steps. I dare to look behind me, and see the elemental peering over the edge of his land. I squint playfully, fail to hide my devious smile, and begin jogging home to get ready for the festival. 

_______________

When I arrive at the beach for the Moonlight Jellies, I’m intimidated by the amount of people on the docks, so I head to the side that’s covered in small tidepools. Seb’s family, minus Seb, are all standing along the shoreline, and I think I can make out that the shadowy figure on the dock nearest to me is Leah. As far as I can tell, nobody else is around. 

Just as I step off the makeshift wooden bridge and into the sand, Robin turns to me and waves. As I greet her back, I’m thankful that she didn’t call me over – as much as I love her, and think Maru’s pretty cool, Demetrius gives me the creeps.

I bypass everyone and head to the complete opposite end of the beach. Staring into the abyss. Wondering how many jellyfish will show up, how much they actually glow, and if I’ll be close enough to give one a little pat on the head. That last thought is probably dangerous, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take. 

Exhaling deeply, and realizing how tired I am, I spin my upper half a bit to pop my back, then tilt my skull from side-to-side to do the same to my neck. Maybe the movement will help wake me up a bit. As I begin reaching my arms behind me and craning my back, a voice pops into my head.

“This is an awfully strange time for yoga, don’t you think?”

I nearly jump out of my fucking skin, holy shit. Deadpanning the sky, I think, “Where the fuck are you?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Magnus Rasmodius I swear to Yoba–”

A decadent chuckle floods my brain, warming up my cheeks. “To your left.” 

I follow his directions, and spot Magnus practically as blended in as he possibly can be with the trees that line the sand.

“Is that your usual Moonlight Jellies-lurking spot?”

“Indeed it is.” 

I peer around, making sure nobody’s watching me, before shuffling over to Magnus’ side. Don’t wanna draw attention to him, but my head hurts too much from sleepiness to try and think in responses only. 

Keeping my voice down, I continue our conversation. “I thought you were gonna be done creeping around, after learning you’re not actually Abby’s dad.” 

“Eh,” he shrugs, “It’s mere tradition.”

Eyeballing the ocean from where we stand, I ask, “Can you even see the jellies from all the way back here?”

“I’ve seen the migration more than enough in my lifetime. I suppose it’s the sense of community that draws me in, at this point.”

I feel a pang in my belly. “Yeah, a community that either doesn’t know you exist or shuns you when they do…” I grumble and roll my eyes, looking down as I fidget with my sleeves.

Words can’t describe how bitter I am that he has to constantly hide himself – despite single-handedly keeping the entire valley free of dangerous elementals – for the sake of a bunch of people who judge him based on what they perceive him to be like. Sure, they don’t know what he does, but those who do could be at least a little welcoming, no?

I squeak as a large hand places itself atop my head. “You’ve no need for concern.” Magnus removes his palm and places it underneath his black cloak. 

I feel my heart firmly thump in my chest at his softness. I push it aside, and mumble “Too bad,” under my breath. “It’s not fair…” 

A quiet laugh escapes the wizard, before he replies, “Really. There’s no need to dwell on it, my dear. I assure you.” He sighs, then practically purrs under his breath, “Although, I must admit, it’s quite adorable of you to be so protective over me.” 

…Did he just call me adorable? 

Does he know what that means? 

Do I know what that means?

Because that sounds an awful lot like he’s saying he finds me attractive in some way or my personality attractive or– 

My eyes must be popping out of my fucking face as my brain short circuits. I squeak again, knowing damn well that if it were any lighter out, my ears and cheeks would be red enough for everyone within a 100-foot radius to see. 

I choke out, “Sorry,” clear my throat, and continue to ramble my way away from him. “I gotta go. Uh, I left something, um… over there.” I motion vaguely towards where the majority of Pelican Town is gathered.

“Did you, now?” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice. As if he knows exactly what he did.

“Yeah. Like, way over there.”

“Could you not simply retrieve it later?” 

“Bye Magnus!” I quietly sing, keeping my eyes on the other people gathered around the shore as I escape.

As I cross the bridge again, I lightly shake my hands. Stimming away the fluster to the best of my ability. It’s… not working very well. In another attempt to distract myself, I make way to Pierre’s booth to scope out today’s wares. Retail therapy, or whatever.

When nothing captures my attention, I awkwardly thank Pierre for his time, apologize for bothering him, and shuffle away. On the docks, I can vaguely make out the figures of a flock of emos, so I pad closer to them. Sam is the nearest, and none of them seem to notice me, so I opt to fuck with him.

Sneaking up behind the man, I tippy toe to gain some height, and flick the small, faux diamond piercing in his earlobe.

“Ack!” Evilly snickering to myself, I back away a little. “What the hell, little lady?!” Sam laughs when he realizes I’m the culprit. 

“Had to do it to ‘em.”

Seb joins in. “Haven’t you done enough to poor Samson?” 

“Whoa!” Sam and I answer in unison. I feel Abby looking at us from the corner of my eye, and Sam continues, “Low blow!” 

“Seriously,” I agree. “The fuck, dude?!”

Menacingly laughing, Seb blows his cigarette smoke towards me. I hurriedly swipe at the air, hoping to waft it away. Don’t want that stuff to make its way into the little baby nose of Vincent, who’s running along the wood behind us… or poor Penny, who’s babysitting, I guess. 

Where the fuck is Jodi? Does this poor girl ever get a day off from mothering other peoples’ kids?

Pushing those thoughts aside, I continue walking. “When does this start, usually?” I mutter, sitting down at the very end of the dock. Peering down at the dark water below me. Resisting the urge to hop in for a cheeky lil’ swim.

“Eh, Lewis usually sends off his little raft at, like, 11.” 

I turn to look up at Abby. She’s… sitting down next to me?! 

Did my plans the other night actually fucking work? Does she like me now? Did I gain her approval? What the fuck–

“Thanks for those berries, by the way.” Phew, I’m glad Pierre didn’t steal those! “Used ‘em in a smoothie.” O-oh. Ya know, I feel like you wouldn’t taste them over the flavor of other fruits that way, but hey! At least she used them! “Not bad, lady.”

“Yeah, no problem, Abby,” I grin at her. ”Glad you liked them!”

A silence falls between us. As Abby reaches to dip her fingers into the sea, I hear Sam and Seb chattering behind us. 

“U-uh,” I mutter, filling in the blank space, “Sorry last night wasn’t as, like, cool as you were expecting.” I look at the sky, and begin a mental count of all the shooting stars that zoom by. 

“It’s whatever. S’not like I expected much from it.” Theeere’s the sassy Abigail I’m used to. “I’m still creeped out by that dude living there, though. How have I never seen him before?” 

The corner of my mouth that she can’t see curls into a smirk, as I think of Magnus – Mark, in this case – standing against the flora not even a quarter of a mile away. I shrug. “Guess he’s a hermit or something, I dunno.”

“I mean, I guess,” she scoffs. More silence, but this time, Abby is the one to cut it short. “This your first Jellies festival?” 

I nod. “I… I think so? My memories from being here as a little kid are foggy.”

“I see…” 

This is the most Abby’s spoken to me since her interrogation my second night here. I inspect her, hoping she doesn’t notice that I’m staring a bit. I wonder if she was telling the truth, back when she said she doesn’t dye her hair. Or if she knows that her pale complextion glistens like a fucking Twilight-ass vampire’s skin under the moonlight… 

Looking lower, I admire her thigh tattoo. It’s big and intricate, with flowers and thorns, and there’s little easter eggs to various video games hidden within each bud and petal. A badge for Prairie King. A cowplant. A junimo in a minecart. A keyblade. Monokuma... It’s a real shame that she usually wears pants that hide it. 

Y’know, if she wasn’t a bit snooty, I’m sure Seb would be all over her still. I mean, he was once, way back when. But I wonder, had Abby not lost her marbles over him, if they would’ve been together now. Maybe even married.

Riding around Zuzu on the same bike he drove me to that cliff on. Getting matching tattoos and piercings. Buying each other fancy musical equipment, PC parts and video games, custom Solarian models and boards you can only get over in the city… Being fucking edgelord nerds together.

I feel something sink in my tummy. Mirroring her earlier actions, I try to ground myself; taking in the way the cool water grazes my fingertips, leaving a salty film behind. Focusing on the breeze kissing my cheeks, and the way the barely-there waves reflect all the twinkling shooters in the void above us.

Why am I getting fucked up over what could have been? I know Seb doesn’t have feelings for her anymore… maybe I almost feel guilty about that? That after all her pining, she didn’t get him in the end? 

Maybe, despite that talk last night, I’m guilty that I have feelings for someone besides Seb, and I’m just projecting that now? 

Maybe I feel guilty that I have several people crushing on me, allegedly… and she might not have any, despite being a total stunner?

I dunno.

I hear Lewis announce something from behind me, but don’t pay it much mind as I zone out on the water’s surface. I’m snapped back when I feel a nudge at my butt. I look up and behind me, and smile at Seb smirking down at me.

He taps Abby’s butt with his foot too, and once he has both of our attention, he mutters, “Scoot over.” Our amethyst-haired companion moves a little bit, and I do too, until there’s just enough space for him to plop down at my right side. 

I look around and notice that The Dog Boy is nowhere in sight. “Where’s Sam?”

“Went to go stand with his mom and Vin.” 

I nod, leaning onto Seb’s shoulder afterward. He tangles his fingers into mine, and he, Abby, and I sit in silence as Lewis’ makeshift boat and candle float out into the distance. 

A few quiet minutes later, only filled with the sound of the sea breeze and whatever calming song Lewis has playing over the speakers near Willy’s shop, I see a bunch of glowing blobs making their way over to us.

“No fucking way,” I whisper, leaning off of Seb’s shoulder a bit. 

Are they really just… swimming on over to us? All because Lewis sent a candle out into the ocean?!

I must look like a freaking child, the way I’m smiling at the small creatures in the distance. I lean forward, hoping I can get a better look, in case they don’t get any closer – but they do get closer, and they keep on drifting our way with each passing second. 

I feel eyes on me, and turn to see Abby watching me. Grinning at me. Fondly, almost. 

It’s terrifying.

“W-what?” 

“...Fucking nerd.”

“What?!” I laugh. “It’s my first time, cut me some slack, lady.”

I hear a giggle from my opposite side, and turn to see Seb watching our banter. “Shut the fuck up, you two.”

“Make me.”

Abby fake-gags next to me. “Don’t make her.”

I think back to when Sam, Seb and I had this same interaction. Contrary to last time, I know exactly how he would make me shut up. Hehehehhh.

“You too, huh?” I ask Abby. She side-eyes me.

“What can I say, my dear,” Seb mumbles. I turn towards him, and hear a fake-gagging noise from my left in response to Seb’s pet name for me. “My friends know me well.” He fucking winks.

I squint at him and give him a playful shove. Noticing something light in the corner of my eye, I look back at the water. 

They’re here. 

There’s. There’s so many jellyfish. 

They’re so chunky. 

They’re so cute. 

Look… look at that form! They’re wiggling so much!

They’re so cute. 

I want one. 

I want one.

I’m gonna take one hom– Is that little guy green?

“Why is that one green?”

“Oh shit,” Seb mumbles. “Green ones are rare.”

“I want it.”

“...What?”

I deadpan him. “It’s chosen me. I need to take it home.”

“That’s not how this works.”

I squint, then mock him. I turn back towards the jellies and find that most of them are beginning to drift away. The green one is still big chilling though. 

I wonder if this has anything to do with ~magic~. Am I stretching logic too much, by hypothesizing that? Or is it an adequate stretch, given I’m now possibly capable of that sorta thing now?

Silently, I watch in awe as the jellyfish fully begin to leave. It takes all the restraint in my body to not pet the green one in front of me, but in respect to the little friend’s personal space, I opt out. It’s the last one to go, at least from our area. Makes me feel all fuzzy inside.

[shinkei-shinto]

this one requires a little bit of context:

so I make faces when I taste things. I've wondered if I have the "supertaster" thing, but an ex verbally berated me about that so I've stopped claiming it, plus I think there's something else going on.

anyways, I make faces when I taste things. as long as it's strong in taste (alcohol always does it, most fruits do it) my face will screw up and be weird -- so much so, that a friend in college specifically stole me away to feed me a shot of absinthe and record my face contorting over it, once.

And, of course, I've always done this - ever since I was aware of awareness, anyways, which means I did this as a little kid. And I think lots of little kids probably do this! These flavors are new and intense in strange ways! I bet kids make faces even when they eat something they like, much less a new thing with a strong flavor.

So now, the not-normal-story part:

I've never had a meatball. Before college, I had never had oranges, grapes, I've still never had an enchilada (grew up in Texas, hello!) there are so many things that I've only gotten to try as an adult,

because my mother didn't believe in little kids, I guess?

I made faces as a kid, too. For everything. I'd try something and my face would screw up, and she would instantly declare, out loud, while taking away whatever I had tried, "oh, [they're] picky, [they] won't eat this!"

Didn't matter what it was, didn't matter how I felt about it, didn't matter what I said afterwards, didn't matter if I could later "prove" I "liked it" by eating more elsewhere. Once she had Decided that I was "too picky" and "didn't like it", that was it! I was never allowed to even try that foodstuff ever again.

Oh, except for things she thought her children should eat. "Try two bites" every single time she put asparagus on the table. "Two bites! Your tastebuds change!" every single time there were brussel sprouts. I ate the fuck out of peas, green beans, broccoli, btw. It wasn't a greens issue.

Eventually, I grew up, and while I now get to try things on my own, I've also discovered other things that came of this horrible treatment of children: I can't handle spice. Like, at all. I used to be able to tell when pepper had been added into a dish because that would cause it to be "too spicy" for me. Regular black pepper! I used to cut the edges off of nice steaks bc the pepper crust was too much for me! It has taken years for me to get to the point where I can have pepper and a couple of other spices inside of food without my mouth registering them as "spicy". Years of slowly raising my tolerance and trying things every single opportunity I get.

So today, as I was walking through my kitchen, getting my breakfast, and I saw the jar of four-cheese red pasta sauce my partner and I picked up from a grocery store to have with pasta at some point, I realized:

I've never had a meatball. While my whole family was eating homemade meatballs, red sauce, and spaghetti every single sunday, I sat there, having nothing but plain - unbuttered! - pasta.

If any of this sounds familiar in any way, congratulations: you were abused! I'm sorry to be the bearer of this news, but there's good news too!

Now that I'm an adult, I get to try everything. I have experiences as an adult that I've never had before in my life. Do you know how incredible it is to taste a fruit for the first time while in full control of my faculties? To have the ability to try things, to spit them out without judgement if I need to, and to discover that things actually taste good! There are things out there that I have NEVER even thought about, that I never had the chance to try as a kid, and now I get to try it as an adult, and that means I can buy as much of that stuff as I want. Ha!

[arrowflier]

can you write ian cooking for mickey? like some really big fancy meal and mickey is impressed and also 🥰😳 but tries to act as if it's not a big deal and all whatever 👀

"Can I come into the fuckin' kitchen yet?" Mickey asked from the living room sofa. He'd been exiled from half of his own apartment for hours, now, and pestering Ian the entire time about when he'd be allowed back in.

"I just want a beer, Ian," he'd tried. Or, "Come on, I just wanna be in the same room as my husband."

But it was all to no avail. Because Ian, sequestered in the sweltering kitchen slaving over a hot stove for half the day, had a plan.

"Not quite!" he called back to Mickey, opening the oven door to peek at the dish inside. The top was perfectly browned, and he grabbed a misshapen oven mitt--Lip's gift to him last Christmas, his first attempt knitting anything with a thumb--and pulled it out.

Ian turned as he stepped back, kicking the oven door shut with his heel as he looked for somewhere to set the hot dish. But he couldn't find the fancy trivet Sandy had given them as a house-warming present.

"You're a couple of fancy west side queers now," she had said through a smirk when they unwrapped it from used butcher paper. "Can't be leavin' scorch marks all over the table."

They hadn't had the heart to tell her that they didn't actually own a table, yet.

Cursing under his breath as heat started to seep through Lip's uneven stitches, Ian spun again and let the dish clatter down onto the stovetop. Close enough.

"Come on man, I'm starvin'!" Mickey tried again, but Ian just rolled his eyes as he got out their two plates, two forks, and single serving spoon.

Well, it wasn't really their serving spoon, but what Debbie didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

He dished out two servings, making Mickey's on the heavier side. With one plate in hand and the other balanced awkwardly on his arm, he grabbed the bottle of wine and two plain glasses in his other hand and carefully made his way to the living room.

"Fuckin' finally," Mickey muttered when he saw him come around the corner, then, "you need some help with that, man?"

"Don't get up!" Ian ordered hurriedly. "Stay right there, I'm bringing it to you."

And so he did, albeit very slowly and constantly on the verge of dropping it all on their clean new floor. He managed to bend over just enough to set the wine and glasses on the coffee table, a little thing they had picked up off the curb when someone else moved out, and offered Mickey the first plate.

"What is this, some kinda special occasion?" Mickey asked, amused, as he took the offering. "Don't usually get couch-side service 'round here."

Normally, Ian would tease him right back. Something about worrying that those short legs wouldn't make the trip on their own, or that he didn't trust Mickey to wait for utensils if he got it himself.

But it was a special occasion, at least to Ian. It wasn't the first night in their apartment, not by a long shot, but it was the first one they were truly free to enjoy. No work, no familial obligations; just them and the meal Ian had made.

"Try it," Ian urged before Mickey could do more than peer down at his plate suspiciously. "I really think you'll like it?"

"You do, huh?" Mickey questioned, eyebrows raised. He poked a finger through the tomato garnish and into the bread crumbs that layered the top, hissed and pulled it back when he found the food still hot.

"What the fuck is this?" he asked. "Looks fuckin' fancy, man, you sure this is even food?"

Ian just smiled, and handed him a fork.

With one more narrow-eyed glance, Mickey accepted it, and dug in.

He lifted the forkful to his face, staring it down like an enemy. Lightly toasted crumbs were just the top layer, and once he had broken through the crust, pasta was revealed underneath, along with a stringy white substance that was almost sauce but not. The red of tomato and the green of chopped peppers peeked through, and Mickey frowned at the evidence of fruits and vegetables in his dinner.

But Ian was still smiling, and waiting. So Mickey closed his eyes, took a breath, and put the fork in his mouth.

His eyes popped back open in surprise.

"Ian," he breathed. "What the fuck is this?"

Ian beamed next to him, a veritable sun right there on the sofa despite their covered windows.

"Mac and cheese," he replied simply. "Mandy used to say she made it for you sometimes, when things were going good."

Mickey swallowed. Took another bite, chewed, and swallowed again.

"She did," he finally said through his third forkful. "But it didn't taste nothin' like this, man, what did you put in here? Crack?"

Ian laughed, then leaned over to pick up the wine off the floor and pour two glasses. He made to hand one to Mickey, rolling his eyes when Mickey hesitated.

"It's rose, Mickey," he said before his husband could ask. "And before you say that's gay, I know. But you sure seemed to like it at that gay party we went to, so drink up."

Mickey shrugged, and set his plate on his lap long enough to take the glass and a long sip of alcohol.

"So you like it then?" Ian asked hopefully. Like the way Mickey was shoveling it in wasn't answer enough.

"I was thinking of getting a plot in the local garden, you know," Ian continued. "So I could use our own stuff, next time, for seasoning."

"Sounds like a fuckin' plan, man," Mickey mumbled as he chewed. "Now are you gonna eat yours, or is that plate for me too?"

Still smiling wider than he thought he ever had--except maybe at their wedding, he supposed--Ian picked up his own plate, and dug in.

[copias-thrall]

How would Mary goore react to hurting someone he genuinely cares about? I absolutely Love your writing!💕

Hello, nonny! Thank you, I love this ask!

This was going to be  alist, but it got away from me! 😅 

Enjoy 😘 

It wasn’t anything big.

Just a few of Mary’s favorite beers (the craft kind—not the shitty beer he drank on his shoestring budget), some of that chronic shit you’d scored and have been saving for a special occasion, and a VHS box set of horror movie classics.

***

Mary comes in and out of your life at will, and that was something you accepted—knowing he was As Is or not at all. And honestly—no, really—you liked that. You had your own shit going on, and being Mary’s expected caregiver was NOT something you wanted to add to that list.

(If someone else wanted to try to tame him and pick up after him, well…kudos to them. Less work for you.)

Mary showed up on your pivotal days and he rubbed your feet and always invited you out to trivia. You'd held him when he was coming down from a bad trip and listened to his grievances and gave him a place to stay when he was persona non grata at his own. And in a way, that made you always feel like #1 in Mary’s world…and that was good enough for you.

***

A few months ago, Mary had been lying on your couch, picking the label off his beer bottle.

“I’m gonna be away for a bit,” he’d said.

“Oh?” you’d responded as you’d mashed the controls on your gaming controller.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ll be around…but I got some shit going on.”

You’d paused your game.

“Bad shit?”

He’d waved you off.

“Neg. Just tryna get myself out there. Signed up for open mics and shit.”

He’d shifted, his long legs receding from around you and folding under him.

“So, like…I got my job at the bowling alley…but nights and weekends are kinda shot.”

You’d tried not to let the disappointment show on your face. You supported Mary’s dreams, and that meant not making an issue that he was finally trying to do something about them.

This wasn’t against you. It was for him.

When you’d taken too long to respond, his face had scrunched.

“But if you want—”

“It’s fine, Mare,” you’d said as you’d made yourself smile. “This is important to you, so it’s important to me.”

You’d unpaused your game.

“Just don’t expect me to not beat this game without you.”

He’d grabbed the controller out of your hands with a snarl, causing you to cry out when you died.

“Fuck the game.” His hand had fisted your shirt. “Give me a night to remember.”

You had. Twice.

***

Mary had texted you occasionally over the next few weeks—a few memes, a few drunken key-smashes, a dick pic, and 2 grainy videos of his performances for critique—but such contact was sporadic, and you’d never seen him in real-time. 

He’d blown in one night, five weeks in, with a box of pizza just as you'd been heading out to meet your crew. When you’d told him you’d made plans, he’d looked so crestfallen that you’d caved and canceled on them.

While he’d been there, he’d given you a date in 3 weeks.

“That Saturday I have nowhere to be,” he’d said as he’d chewed. “I can spend the whole day with you.”

You’d been careful not to seem too eager.

“Oh yeah? Should I plan shit?”

He’d crammed the whole crust into his mouth and had given you a doughy grin.

“Why ’’ya think I told you?”

You didn’t know what you’d expected, but when he’d had to bounce 90min later, you were still surprised. (That was hardly enough time to digest!)

“Sorry,” he’d winced. “I gotta be on a bus in 45min.”

He’d left, and you’d been too embarrassed to join your friends who were only just going to the second bar.

Having fun with your man ;) ? one of your friends had texted.

What do you think? You’d texted back before changing into your pjs and turning on Netflix.

***

So maybe you were low-key excited about your day with Mary.

Perhaps you’d spent those 3 weeks figuring out the perfect date—something that said, “I missed you,” without saying “But in a clingy way.”

Beer and horror were two things the both of you were totally into, and you knew he’d be exhausted, so it seemed perfect. You’d bought the boxed set off of eBay and splurged for expedited shipping; you’d borrowed your brother’s old dual TV/VCR from his college days; and you’d forgone your weekly Chinese takeout for the craft beer funds. (And if things got steamy, well…even better.) 

***

A few days before The Date, you’d run into Mary on the bus. You were coming home from a shift, and he was going to his.

He’d brightened and waved you over—as if you weren’t already on your way—and you’d plopped down beside him with a tired grin. You’d told him of the latest entitled asshole, and he’d showed you another clip of him on guitar.

Before your stop had come up, you’d tentatively placed your hand over his.

“We still on for Saturday?”

He’d blinked at you a few moments before grinning.

“Yeah.”

“Should I plan a whole day for us, then?”

His arm had crept around your shoulders before pulling you into him to kiss your temple.

“Yeah, why not.”

***

That morning, you wake up happy. 

Mary will be over soon.

You roll over and grab your phone.

When should I expect you? :-* 

It takes him an hour to respond. You aren’t surprised—Mary isn’t known for being a morning person—so when your phone dings, you grab it up excitedly.

An excitement that dies when you read his text. And reread. And re-reread.

not 2day 

goin upste 2 show 

You blink.

What show? Didn’t we confirm? 

yeah. got me thinkin 

why no show? 

so i chked 

i missed one 

gotta do it 

Rage blooms hot, then cold behind your eyes and down your cheeks.

But you said we had the whole day. I made plans. 

save em 

ths is impt 2 me 

We’ve had this planned for weeks. 

i thot u suprted me 

on a bus cnt tlk 

You send a few more irate texts, but he doesn’t respond, and you toss your phone across the room with a shout of frustration. You scrub the hot tears from your eyes before they can fall.

And…on paper, Mary isn’t wrong. Nothing you had planned won’t keep: movies, beer, takeout.

But…

It gives you a stark look at what you mean to Mary. He gave you this date and confirmed it. He knew you were making plans.

How long was he going to wait to tell you he wasn’t even in the city anymore?

You fight the urge to kick the VHS tapes across the floor, but you open the fridge and grab a beer. If Queen Elizabeth could have beer for breakfast, then it was good enough for you.

Once you’ve downed all eight, you move on to the jug of vodka you keep for cleaning.

When you empty only liquid from your stomach into the toilet, you grab your frozen fries out of the freezer. You roll a handful of the cold ones in your mouth as you wait for the others to crisp in the oven, and once you’ve consumed the cooked ones, you go right back to the vodka.

***

Opening your eyes the next morning is a mistake, so you take a few deep breaths and go back to sleep.

When you wake again, your heart is fluttering, your stomach turns, and it feels like there’s an ice pick behind one eye. Shuffling slowly, you make your way out to your kitchen where you take some painkillers, drink some pickle juice, and eat two slices of plain bread.

The sense that you did something awful stays with you, but you’re in no condition to find your phone and see what you’ve done. Instead, you go back to bed. It takes more deep breathing to settle yourself, but once you do fall asleep, you’re out for hours.

You don’t feel amazing when you swim to consciousness again, but you feel at least like a human being. 

Your phone is dead when you find it under the sink, and waiting the 5 or so minutes for it to charge feels like waiting to face the executioner.

It’s both better and worse than you expected.

You breathe a sigh of relief to see that there are no vague social media posts, and you didn’t drunk dial any of your friends, but…

The texts to and from Mary are ugly.

Apparently, you’d managed not to send him angry texts until he’d sent you another clip of his performing. But then the floodgates had opened.

You’d started with telling him you didn’t give a shit about the show, how he was an inconsiderate ass, and then you'd devolved into incomprehensible, typo-ridden texts that accused him of using you, that you were only something to do when he didn’t have anything better to do, that he was an entitled man-child and if he didn’t apologize, you were done.

Mary’s texts in response range from him being angry at your disregard, to heated retorts you were blowing this out of proportion (and he didn’t appreciate your “ad hominem” attacks), to a cool detachment that this wasn’t working over text and he’d finish this in person.

You put your head in your hands but are too dehydrated to cry.

***

Mary doesn’t text you again during his self-imposed time frame.

You don’t text him either, but that’s more out of self-preservation than pride. There’s no point exacerbating the situation…and you’re pretty sure there’s no coming back from this, so why speed up the inevitable?

The horror tapes taunt you every time you walk by them, and you wonder if you can return them (you can’t). You give the TV back to your brother, and when he asks you how it went, you plaster a smile on your face and say, “Great!” with forced enthusiasm you hope comes across as genuine.

The primo weed goes over to your friend’s house, and the two of you wax poetic all night about existential claptrap as you devour two cheese pizzas and a bag of bbq chips. You talk about Mary without talking about Mary, and you get a heartfelt, “Sorry, dude.”

You beat the video game anyway, but it’s mostly because you needed something to occupy your mind and less out of spite (though that’s there as well).

***

Despite waiting on tenterhooks to hear anything from Mary, you truly don’t really expect to. You know you’d been atrocious, even if it had been prompted by his careless disregard, and you know Mary isn’t really the kind of guy that troubles himself with relationships that are hard.

Not that you’re in a relationship.

So when there’s a knock on your door a week later and Mary’s behind it, you’re genuinely surprised.

You gape through the peephole in shock.

“Fuck. If you’re there, just let me in, ok?”

Fumbling with the chain, you unlock the door and crack it open.

“Mary?”

“You gonna let me in?” he rasps.

You shrug and step away from the door, and he shuffles inside. He looks around like you’ve changed anything (you haven’t), before turning around to face you.

You close the door and stare back.

He folds his arms. “Breaking up with someone over text is tacky.”

What you think is, So you’ve come to do it in person, but what you say is, “Can’t break up if you’re not together.”

He winces and runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Yeah…apparently I’ve ‘taken advantage' of you.”

This…isn’t what you’re expecting.

“I…what?”

“Can we sit down?”

You nod, and Mary sits rigidly on the edge of your couch. You curl up in the chair on the opposite side.

He rubs his palms down his greasy jeans before he speaks.

“I mean…you pissed me off, ok?”

You nod.

“But, like—you weren’t wrong, ok? I kinda knew that deep down, but I’m a dumbass, you know?”

You don’t nod.

“And I kinda bitched about the whole thing…but the resounding response was that I was the asshole.”

He angles his body toward you.

“I guess I’ve kinda been treating you like my best friend that I fuck sometimes.”

Your entire face flushes—you’d always thought you’d maybe ranked a little higher than that—and you duck your head so he can’t see the tears that you blink back.

There’s a swish of fabric, and you startle hard when Mary’s hand is at your chin. He jerks back with a Sorry.

“Shit—that’s not what I…” he blows out a breath and puts his hands behind his head before looking back up at you.

“But you aren’t, and…fuck this is harder than I thought.”

So this is it.

Waiting for him to do the deed is clearly going to be excruciating, so you take charge of this whole shit-show.

“I understand,” you say flatly.

“You do?”

“It’s ok, Mare-Mary. It’s my own fault for reading too much into it. I just…I saw what I wanted to see, I guess. I know you don’t need…” you look down into your lap, “…my shit in your life.

He makes a noise low in his throat, and then he’s squatting in front of you, his hot hands planting on your knees.

“But I want your shit in my life.”

You squint your eyes at him.

“But what I said…”

He grasps your hands in his.

“Pissed me off, yeah…cuz I wasn’t fucking thinking, ok? You’re like one of the only people who gives a crap about what’s important to me. And all I could see was you suddenly…not.”

Anger wells up in you again, and you yank away your hands.

“Weeks, Mary…weeks of you all over the tri-state area, and you thought I didn’t care because of one night?! A night you promised to me?”

He sits back on his heels. “I know…fuck. Ok? At the time, it just felt…like the show couldn’t be rescheduled. Our night could.”

Because you’re what he does when he’s bored.

You curl in on yourself.

“Shit.” He leans forward again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, ok? I’m fucking on my knees here.”

You blink at him. 

What? 

“Please, please don’t break—say we’re done.”

“What?”

“Look, we can go into my shitty fucking psychological profile on why I fuck around later…but right now I need you to know that I knew it was you before I fucking knew it was you.”

You uncurl.

“That…’what’ was me?”

He knees forward and presses your hands to his face.

“The one I wanna spend my free time with. The one whose opinion means the most. The one who was the first person I wanted to share all my good shit with. You’re the one I missed, and—after that awful fucking night—everything felt pointless because I knew I couldn’t come over and jam about it.”

“Mare—what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m a fucking dumbass. I’m saying I thought I was pissed at you, but I was pissed at myself for fucking it up.” He sighs. “I’m saying no fucking one was on my side and they all told me to get my shit together.”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, and for the first time, you can see how they’re outlined in red, his subtle crow’s feet more pronounced.

“So, you’re not done with me? I’m not…too much trouble?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “What? Shit, no. I’m asking you to not be done with me. I’ll give you all the nights you want. Fucking text me, and my ass’ll be here posthaste.” He shifts up, and his thumb ghosts over your lips. “Anything to get you to give me that secret smile again.”

“Secret smile?” you ask while trying to perform the action.

Mary actually blushes.

“Uh…yeah. You get this…” he makes a motion across his face, “…when you’re giving it back to me.” His fingers shove back through his hair as he casts his eyes down. “You don’t give it to anyone else.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve made a study of it.”

You’re a swirl of emotions. Mary’s apologized—has admitted he was wrong and has asked for…more—but you’re still hurt. And embarrassed.

But he’s looking up at you with wet, hopeful eyes.

“Do you…” you start carefully, “…do you know why I got so mad?”

That statement was clearly not what he was expecting, and he blinks at you a few times before nodding and looking down at the floor.

“I made a…uh, commitment…to you. And I treated it like it didn’t mean anything.”

He gives you a look like, Did I get it right? and that’s close enough—even if he’s missing some of the nuance.

You nod. “And I know I…wasn’t…the best.”

His face contorts, and your heart sinks.

“You…” he shakes his head. “You said some awful things…some hurtful shit—and it really got in my head.”

Mary gives you a complicated look.

“Shit that you’d been pissed about for a while.” He traces your knee. “Shit you could’ve said to me…but shit I should have noticed. Fuck.” He presses his forehead into your knees, and you can’t stop yourself from sinking your fingers into his hair.

He takes it as encouragement and presses into you before looking up again.

“I just kinda wanna put that whole night behind us. It feels like a fucking ouroboros of fault. And like maybe I created it. But let’s agree to like…not do that again.”

You look down at him, and his eyes search your face.

“Ok…but what does all this mean, Mare? I can’t…I need to be something to you, ok? More than just your friend.”

Mary nods emphatically, and he takes your hand and curls his into it.

“No more fuck-ups, and no one else…can we start there?”

He’s saying all the right words, but you’re still trepidatious—you know Mary, and he doesn’t like constraints.

“I…just…how can I believe you?”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe you even have to ask. He rises and awkwardly reaches out to touch your face before drawing his hand back.

“Cuz you’re important to me. I care about you, and I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”

And yeah. Ok.

[wellpresseddaisy]

I just finished eating an excellent dinner and wanted to share the recipe. It's extremely flexible depending on your time/spoons. It can be veg or not, depending on your preferences. I make it vegetarian.

Chik'n pot pie filling over mashed potatoes (2 servings)

Sauce

2 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoons flour

1 cup warm no chicken broth (I use the Edward & Sons bullion cubes)

1/4 cup milk or cream (I use a low-fat milk)

Melt the butter in a small pot. Add the flour and whisk together. Whisk until the mixture bubbles. Add the warm broth and keep whisking. Once the sauce has thickened, add the milk and season (I use rosemary, sage, and a bit of thyme). Once thick, take the pot off the burner and set aside.

If you don't want to make white sauce from scratch, there are mixes available. You can probably also use a cream of mushroom, celery, or chicken soup if you'd prefer. I haven't tried it, but you need about 1 1/4 to 1 1/2 cups of sauce. Season to taste.

Veggies

This is super flexible category. I use:

1 medium onion

3 largeish carrots (steamed separately)

3 ribs celery

2/3 cup Lima beans (frozen - cook separately)

1/3 cup petite peas (frozen - cook separately)

Melt about 1 tablespoon of butter. Saute the onion until translucent. Add the celery and cook until softened. Add the other cooked veggies. Add the sauce and heat together on low heat. Add a bit more milk and stir if it seems to be thickening too much.

Protein

I've used Sweet Earth Mindful Chik'n (probably the best chicken analog), diced quorn fillet, and quartered quorn nuggets (cronchy) in this.

You can use one of those or your favorite plain chicken. Or packaged cooked chicken. Just cook everything through before you toss it in with the veggies.

Potatoes

I made my mashed potatoes from scratch, but you don't have to. Steam n' mash, boxed mashed, refrigerated mashed, or whatever kind of mashed potato you prefer is the right one for you.

If you're making from scratch, about 1lb of potato makes a good amount for 2 very hungry people. You don't even need to peel them unless you prefer them peeled. Wash, large dice, stick in a pot with water and boil until a fork sticks in easily. Drain and mash with a tablespoon of butter or so, a quarter cup ish of milk, and salt to taste.

Options

Don't like chicken? Use beef broth and some kind of beef or beef analog.

Don't like potato? Make or purchase a pie crust (watch purchased ones for sugar - you want something more savory) for a double crust pie. Line a casserole with one pie crust, dump in your filling, and seal the top crust. Cut a couple of vent holes. Bake at um, I think 375 ish for 25 to 35 minutes? It's been a while since I chucked it in an oven. Your crust should be baked through.

You can also use this as a filling for puff pastry and everyone will think you're fancy.

Rice or noodles would also probably work as a starch.

Add any veggies you like that aren't listed.

Use this as a blueprint.

[to-star-lake]

Mars [ II ]

pairing | kth x reader genre | ahistorical au, military au, yandere!taehyung word count | 5.2k rating/warnings | M, 18+

In the coming days, he had a room made up for you, the one beside his. He had a bed with a wooden frame brought in, and had a lace canopy hung up around it for you. He instructed his servants to bring the best linens to make up the bed, and insisted that it be cleaned and changed regularly to keep you comfortable.

You came to find that the Lady Inah had previously been the head maid of the governor’s estate. Now she runs the servants in this compound, along with a brothel of girls that had been servants of the house before, or were girls from other war-wracked regions, brought here by the men, skin calloused and abused by war. 

You learned more about your captor - that he grew up in poverty, an orphan, scraping by a living through stealing on the streets of a desert nation to the east. You learned that of all the captains in the General’s army, he was his favorite, for he was able to lead only a small battalion of men across the plains of the west, conquering entire nations through sheer guerilla force. You learned credit could be given the Captain for the siege of the north and the west, helping the General more than triple the size of his empire.

From the other servant girls you learned he had never taken any of them for himself, but that they’d heard rumors that he took occasional visits to brothels. Amongst the girls of the house, the Captain was to be respected - he was good to everyone in his charge, he never used corporal punishment on any of the servants, and made sure everyone in the compound was properly clothed, fed, and given a place to sleep. A few of the girls had, over the years, even wanted to serve him, offered themselves to him, in fact, with hopes of receiving more privileges due to his status. The most extreme of these girls were so bold as to openly proclaim how handsome they thought the Captain was. They were immediately silenced by the Lady Inah, and were banished to a week of work outside in the stables.

But despite all of this, the girls feared him. One of the servant girls was a water maid, responsible for cleaning and pressing the captains uniform. Her hands were calloused, cracked and dry from scrubbing the blood from his clothes. Another girl once was instructed to tend to the wounds of a spy the Captain held captive. Each day she was instructed to go into the room where the Captain kept him, where she would find the captive beaten, bruised, and cut, puddles of his blood coagulating by a drain on the floor. The Captain instructed her to keep him alive, so he could prolong the torture as long as it took for him to get the information he needed. And she was able to keep him alive, for an entire week, she managed. Through the screams she heard even through holding both hands tightly around her ears and squeezing her eyes shut, until the last morning on the day she found the captive had died, she no longer recognized his face or body.

These stories were validated by the other soldiers in the compound. You’d helped Lady Inah in the mess hall, where if the Captain happened to pass, a hush fell over the men as they watched him walk past, eyes wide as though they’d seen a prophet. They admired and revered him, he was the best soldier among them - the bravest, and cruelest of them. Honorable, but his heart filled with malice.

You didn’t think too much of any of these stories. In the first couple of weeks since you were brought here, your only concern was finding a way to escape.

Every day he made sure there was a vase of fresh flowers in your room. Each day it was a new bouquet, he wanted to know what flowers you liked best. But it seemed to him that you never took notice of them. 

The servants were also instructed to purchase fresh clothing for you - everything from plain linen gowns, to dresses made of fine silk. 

And last, but not at all least, he had an iron cuff made for your ankle. Attached to a heavy wrought-iron chain locked into a bolt in the middle of the floor of your room. The length of the chain restricted your movement to your room, the Captain’s room and office beside,  the bathroom, and just far enough that you could open the door to the balcony. 

Twice you had tried to escape. The second time you were caught in the bushes under the balcony of the Captain’s room, the skin of your legs bruised and scraped from falling. The cuff and chain ended these attempts. 

He had a daily routine. The early mornings were for meetings, the servants of the house brought him breakfast to his room around 6am. He did not eat much in the morning, opting for just a glass of juice most days. 

Around 11am, he would head out with a battalion of his men. He would be in uniform, and so would they. They were always armed with heavy artillery. They returned late in the evening, sometimes late into the night, their uniforms dirty, splattered with blood, covered in dust and ash. He always found you huddled in the corner beside the large credenza in your room when he returned. He’d go into the bathroom, remove his clothes, which the servants would take to clean and press, a fresh shirt and trousers, and a clean coat always awaited him before he woke in the morning, and shower. 

He bathed daily, kept his quarters tidy, and would sit down for supper shortly after. He always insisted you join him for his meals. You hardly ate. He noticed. 

He watched you in the weeks that passed, concerned, it was as though you were shrinking before his eyes. He never touched you; he did not want to hurt you. But on that day during fourth week of living at the compound, after a long period of good behavior, he became angry with you.

The avoiding eye contact, the refusal to speak to him, and when you did it was to shoot insults at him; all of this he did not pay mind to. But you refusing to eat. This he didn’t stand for.

He’d taken you by the arm, dragged you against your protests into your room and threw you onto the bed. He sat you up and tied your arms to the bedpost. He left the room and returned with a bowl of soup in one hand, and a loaf of bread in the other. He sat down on the mattress beside you, dipping a spoon into the hot liquid. He blew onto the spoon to cool the soup, and held it out to your mouth. You opened up, sipping it, but not soon before you spat it back out into his face. 

He blinked, looking down and sighing. He set the bowl of soup down onto the table beside your bed, and cleaned his face with a napkin, saying nothing. He took the bowl back in his hands, and offered you one more spoonful. 

You pulled your knee up to your torso, and swung it toward him, knocking his hand back. He almost dropped the bowl, a splash of soup spilled onto his lap, dripping and staining the freshly cleaned sheets. 

He’d never been angry with you before this moment. He stood, huffing exasperated breaths. He slammed the bowl onto the table and climbed onto the bed over you, his legs straddling your waist. He sat onto your legs, the oppressive weight of his body kept you from continuing to thrash your legs about. He reached a hand out to grab your face, his fingers closed tightly around your jaw, forcing your mouth open. He reached and picked up the loaf of bread from the table and brought it to his lips, ripping off pieces of it which he proceeded to shove into your mouth. 

You tried to spit them back out, but he pushed more into your mouth and you were forced to swallow. The dry, crusted edges cut the inside of your mouth and throat. He did this until the entire loaf of bread was gone, and the inside of your mouth was scratched raw and dry. He then proceeded to pour the bowl of soup into your mouth, streams of it dribbling from the edges of your lips. You choked at the liquid streaming into your throat, coughing, and he finally tilted the empty bowl back and let go of your jaw and stood up off of your body to the side of the bed. 

You were gasping, hunched over, huddling your legs to your chest, your arms still tied against the bedposts. He fell back against the wall, his chest heaving. 

The early days were like this. 

You fought him often. Fought him when he’d force-feed you after days of refusing to eat. Fought him when he made you share a meal with him. Fought him when he wanted you to sit beside the fire with him and read. Fought him when he locked you in your room for a week after you attempted to free your ankle from its iron cuff, only to fail and he found your skin bloody and bruised from the attempt.

But as time went on this spirit dwindled. And even if your mind hadn’t grown tired of fighting him, your exhausted body wouldn’t have allowed you to continue. So you sat down with him for meals like he asked. You ate the food that was given to you on your plate. You brought books to him by the fire, and watched as he opened a particular volume and would notice you watching, and would hand you a book to read. You wandered the confines of his room quietly. But still, you would not acknowledge him.

Some days he observed may have been better for you than others. As the last of the winter months passed, the buds of spring began to appear on the trees outside the balcony. The smoky, frigid winter air gave way to a warm Earthy scent. The silver clouds that hid the sun began to lift, revealing a bright cerulean sky.

On such days, he’d watch you from behind his desk. He’d study your fragile body, hidden and lost under the excess material of the shapeless linen gowns you wore. He watched as you would walk slowly, dragging the heavy iron chain behind you with effort, your bare feet padding softly against the cold marble floors to the doors of the balcony, where you’d open the door slightly, and sit before it, pulling your knees into your chest, and took deep breaths of the air that blew in. He’d walk over and drape a blanket over your shoulders, though most times you didn’t even notice he’d done this. Your mind was too occupied and lost in gazing into the sky.

On those days he recognized that there was something different in your eyes. He would dare say he may have even seen a light in them. 

He began letting you out of his room when he went out with the scouts during the day. He’d leave you under Lady Inah’s supervision, and she had you working downstairs in the kitchen with the other girls. You cleaned tabletops and floors and dishes. You peeled potatoes and stirred soups and kneaded dough for bread. And in the evening when the Captain returned, Lady Inah would send you back up to his quarters with his supper. 

He learned your name from Lady Inah, but found that he couldn’t use it to call you. Somehow he was afraid. Knowing your name, he would repeat it quietly to himself in his head as he watched you move about your room - sitting quietly by the fire or by the open window, sitting on your bed with a book you’d taken from his desk. He knew you were hiding it. He didn’t mind. But he found himself unable to vocalize your name, as though it were a fragile veil of glass, and his voice, should he call your name, would shatter it. 

--

The sun rose on the horizon on a warm morning in May, and he woke to the sound of birds singing in the courtyard below the balcony of his room. He sat up in his bed, scooting to the edge, swinging his legs over. He stood, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and tossed his hair back. He slowly made his way to the doorway to your room. He did this every morning. 

Peering through the open doorway, he saw you, still asleep in your bed and turned to the bathroom to shower and get dressed. He knew you would be awake once he was out of the shower; it always woke you, it was like this every day. He knew you would wait until he came out and began dressing, and then you’d go into the bathroom to brush your teeth, and wash your face. As he dressed, Lady Inah would knock on the door to his quarters, and she would undo the cuff around your ankle and you would follow her downstairs into the kitchen, where the Captain’s breakfast was being prepared. You would carry the tray of dishes back up to his room, you would set it down on the round table in front of the window, and you would stand by the table and wait until he was seated to instruct you to sit too. 

On this morning, as he watched you follow Lady Inah out into the hallway, a frantic Soobin rushed in through the open doors, almost running into you. 

“Sir, the General has arrived, and he wishes to see you immediately,” Soobin panted, winded from running up to the Captain’s quarters, saluting quickly. 

Taehyung stood, a surge of worry rising in his chest that you might pass the General in the halls. No sooner had Soobin finished his sentence did the General’s booming footsteps arrive. And he was not alone.

Taehyung greeted the General, and the General pulled him into a tight hug, attempting to be fatherly, as he’d always attempted to do with the Captain. 

“The years have not been kind to you, my friend. Perhaps the weather here in the north has put you in a perpetual foul mood?” 

Taehyung turned to see the face that belonged to the sarcastic voice that  spoke. It was Captain Park Jimin, who commanded the forces on the southern front. 

“Yes, I’m certain it’s not as enjoyable as the beaches in the south,” he replied wearily. He watched as the corner of Jimin’s mouth lifted in a smirk at his remark. 

He’d known Jimin for a few years now, and despised him - the way he indulged in drink and women, his addiction to gambling, the way he held no regard for his fellow men, sending his battalions into battle while he lounged in his fortress with his women and his wine. But he was a brilliant strategist, and the General regarded him highly for this, and turned a blind eye on his other, less commendable habits. 

“Well surely with the coming of spring, there will be better weather and prettier sights to ease a wary mind,” Jimin continued to chide. “Speaking of prettier sights, General, you’ve been holding out on me! You said all the girls here were too worn, and none would suit me. But in the hall just now, we passed the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen here in the west, is she one of the lieutenants-”

Taehyung’s jaw tightened and he closed both hands into fists, and the General took notice. 

“Oh her? Oh well, she was actually brought here by our Taehyung,” the General took a conscious step into the tense space between his two captains. 

“Oh?” Jimin smirked, looking up at Taehyung who stared at the ground, his fists tightening. “My friend, I thought you were above all that,” his grin grew as Taehyung’s anger boiled in his chest. “Well then don’t be shy, tell me...how is she?” 

Taehyung made a move to lunge forward, but the General quickly stepped beside Jimin, placing both hands around his shoulders, laughing nervously. “Oh come now, Jimin, must you provoke him? Come, come, let us stop this rabble and go downstairs for some breakfast. You have not lived until you’ve had Lady Inah’s lavender scones, they are simply scrumptious. Oh and with a bit of tea, yes,” he quickly ushered Jimin out into the hall, but looked over his shoulder and shot Taehyung a warning glance. 

---

“The house is bustling, what is going on?” Lira, one of the other servant girls who worked with you inquired as she entered the kitchen, sliding an apron on over her frock. 

“The General has returned from the southern front,” Lady Inah replied, her hands in a bowl of flour and butter, making dough for scones. “Lira, please, fetch me the lavender water.” 

Lira approached the table and handed a pitcher to Lady Inah, who poured concentrated water with careful precision into the dough mix. You stood across the table from her, quietly cutting circular domes out of an already made batch of scone mix and placing them on a baking sheet. 

“So the General has returned already,” Lira said, taking a seat on the wooden bench across from you. 

“Yes, and he’s not alone,” Lady Inah’s hands stopped moving and she straightened herself up. She sighed, wiping both hands on her apron and looked down at Lira. “He’s brought Captain Park Jimin back from the front with him.” 

You watched as Lira’s whole body tensed at those words, a shadow falling over her eyes. Her face became unspeakably pale, like all blood suddenly drained from the vessels in her cheeks. 

Lady Inah gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. 

“Surely, he’s brought a girl here with him? Yes, he wouldn’t travel without at least one girl in tow to..” Lira swallowed dryly, stumbling over her words. 

“That I do not know,” Lady Inah leaned back over the mixing bowl. 

“Is that the man we passed in the hall upstairs? The one with the General?” you asked quietly. 

Lady Inah nodded. Lira seemed to shrink further into herself by the second. 

“Lira-” you began, but Lira stood swiftly and took up the tray of scones you’d assembled, and walked them over to the oven, her head down. 

Lady Inah took a deep breath in. “You must steer clear of Captain Park Jimin if you can,” she whispered, returning both hands to kneading the dough. You looked up at her, studying her expression. “He’s visited here twice before, and both times he chose Lira for himself. He’s always insisted on having the most beautiful girl serve him wherever he goes. And the General has always indulged him. The first time he was here, I sent Lira to him. That is a choice I live to regret every single day. When she returned to her chambers beside mine the next day, her eyes were red and swollen with tears, she had bruises everywhere... She refused to tell me what happened, but I can guess,” she said quietly, turning to look at Lira who stood bracing herself against the edge of the counter beside the oven. 

“Tell me, is our Captain pleased with you? You have not caused him any more strife lately, have you? You have not disobeyed him as you did when you first arrived?” 

You shook your head. “I haven’t angered him recently,” you replied quietly, thinking. “At least I don’t think I have..”

Lady Inah sighed, gazing over at the calloused and rough skin of Lira’s hands and face due to years of work as a servant. Then she turned to you, and looked at you - your long hair, gleaming in the sunlight, at your eyes, wide and attentive, at your posture, tall and poised, not hunched over after years of bowing. “These days, it’s possible the General holds Captain Park Jimin in higher regard than our Captain..” she began slowly. “He’s a brilliant military strategist that’s helped the General win the three nations in the south. The General was so pleased with him, perhaps more pleased than he’d ever been with our Captain, even though he’s won more battles and more land. But those nations to the south are jewel-mining and merchant territory. It brought countless riches to the General.” 

You listened quietly. 

“I know he’s seen you…” she stopped, taking a hushed breath in. “If he wishes for you to serve him...I know the General would not refuse him. And I cannot guarantee that even our Captain could save you..”

You couldn’t move. You stood frozen, her words echoing through your mind. You felt something heavy in your chest, and it kept you from moving, from saying anything. Your mind raced, and you felt your breathing fall uneven. You’d made eye contact with the other Captain just upstairs as you passed him and the General in the hall. He looked at you with an inquisitive eye. You could not shake the image of Lira from your head - you pictured her bruised neck, the skin of her face dry and cracked from the salt of her tears. You imagined what other wounds she would’ve had that she was too afraid to even speak of. You swallowed dryly. You recognized this feeling. It was something you’d come to forget in the presence of the Captain of this compound because he never gave you reason to feel this. It was fear. 

“Lady Inah..” you began, your voice hushed, cracking at the end. 

She glanced up at you. 

“May I be excused, I think I should bring breakfast up to the Captain...”

Lady Inah let out a breath of what seemed to be relief. “I think that would be wise.”

You stood quietly outside the Captain’s door, the large serving tray in your hands holding the breakfast you always made for and ate with him. 

Think. What could you do? What should you do? You knew that the other Captain saw you. Lady Inah did all but tell you directly that without intervention, he would choose you to serve him tonight. It would be alright if he hit you, you thought. It would be alright if he used you for target practice, or if he slapped you, if he cut you. This wasn’t what you feared. 

If he asked for you, would Taehyung really let you go? Think. You knew he cared for you, everyone in the compound knows, though no one spoke of it. You could see the look on his face every time your eyes happened to meet, he always seemed to catch his breath whenever your gaze met his. You could tell him that you did not wish to serve the other Captain. But would that matter to him? Would it not anger him that you would even verbalize this possibility? 

Think. 

 “There are many invirtuous ways you could serve the Captain,” you heard Lady Inah’s voice in your head. This was something she said to you late one evening as she was preparing the Captain’s supper, and you sat stiffly on a wooden chair beside her, not wanting to go back to his room. That afternoon he had returned from scouting a village west of the compound, and you saw as he burst through the doors of his room he was holding onto his shoulder, and there was blood streaming from between his fingers. 

He’d been grazed by a bullet. You’d heard the clanging and rustling of the metal first aid kit from inside the bathroom. Slowly and silently, you walked over, peering through the open doorway and you saw him standing in front of the sink, running a needle and thread through an open gash on his arm. He’d cut his shirt from his body, it lay in a bloodied heap on the floor beside him. You saw the scars on his back. There were so many - blotched, circular ones like a flesh-toned plaque from old bullet wounds, long slender ones you could tell were lashes from a whip, small, precise cuts from a knife. 

When he tied off and cut the thread, he had looked up and saw you in the reflection in the mirror. And before you could back away, he turned, advancing towards you with long strides. He closed a hand around your throat and pushed you against the door frame. You felt one of the straps of your gown fall off your shoulders. You watched with shuddered breaths his eyes as they gazed back into yours, as they fell to your collarbones and to the curve of your neck where it met your bare shoulder. You felt his hand close tighter around your neck, moving closer and you audibly whimpered. 

He seemed to find himself then, quickly releasing you from his grasp and you slithered back into your room. “I’m sorry..” you heard him say softly from the bathroom. 

“If you cease to please the Captain, there are worse fates than death that will befall you. I would recommend you do everything in your power to not lose his favor, he has been good to you,” Lady Inah’s voice played in your mind again. “There are many invirtuous ways you could serve the Captain. But some are less so than others.” 

You entered his chamber and found him seated beside the small dining table by the window. You knew he would be. His elbow rested on the tabletop, his hand held to his lips, lost in thought as he often was of late. 

He glanced up when he heard you enter. You set the tray of food down onto the table and stood in front of him. 

“How many times must I tell you, you do not need to wait for me to give permission,” he sighed, impatient, leaning back in his chair and looking up at you. “Sit, eat.” 

“Captain..” you said quietly. 

“And how many times must I tell you, you do not need to address me as Captain, use my name.”

He had. He had told you many times to call him by his name. 

You nodded quietly. 

His brows furrowled in a concerned frown. “Is something wrong?” 

You took a slow, deep breath in. 

“Captain..I- I wanted to apologize for the trouble and worry I must’ve caused you when you first brought me here..” you swallowed, reaching a shaking hand up to the strap of your gown and brushed it from your shoulder. You looked directly into his eyes, and watched as they grew in shock, his lips pressed together tightly. You brushed the other strap from your shoulder and felt goosebumps grow on your skin as the starched linen material of the gown slipped with ease from your body. 

You stood, naked, and attempting to hide your shivers in the cold room before the Captain, who stared back at you, incredulous, unmoving and addled from his seat. 

You moved closer to him, standing in between his legs. “You’ve been kind to me. You didn’t hurt me to punish me when I tried to escape. You’ve taken care of me.” You reached a hand out carefully, and brushed a strand of his hair back from his forehead. His eyes seemed to soften as he looked up at you. 

“I’ve been wanting to thank you..” your voice shook, and you hoped he did not notice. But you knew he did. He never missed a thing. 

“Y/N..” 

Hearing him call your name for the first time caused you to freeze for the briefest moment. You dropped down to your knees before him, gliding the palms of your hands along his shoulders, down his chest and stomach. Your fingertips grazed the leather of his belt and he reached out to take your hands in his. 

“You don’t have to do this..” he leaned forward in his seat, moving to pull you up, but you felt his thigh twitch at the contact of your arm against him. 

“I want to,” you whispered, gazing up at him with sleepy eyes, your lashes fluttering with a purposeful effort. You pulled your hands from his grasp and ran your palms along his thighs. 

You heard a moan escape from deep in his throat, and saw his hand moving to grasp the edge of the chair. You slid your hands up to the silver buckle of his belt, undoing it. Slowly, you unfastened the button of his trousers, sliding the zipper down and you could tell for a while now even beneath the thick cotton material, how he stiffened. How he grew. 

Carefully, you slipped your fingertips under the opening in his briefs, and brought his full length from under the dampened cotton material. 

“Y/N-”

You scooted closer to him, up on both knees as you leaned your head over him. 

“Y/N..”

You felt his whole body shudder around you as you leaned your head down and licked the drops of precum from him, the salty, bitter taste lingered on your tongue as you sucked in your cheeks, collecting the saliva in your mouth and pushed it out between your lips. It dripped slowly onto him and you slid your mouth down around him. You closed your eyes and could hear his breathing become more shallow and ragged as you clamped your lips around him and worked him slowly in and out of your mouth, pulling in your cheeks to maintain as much suction as you can. You did the best you could to maintain steady breaths, but the air around you grew thick and sticky, and began to cloud your mind, and the sensation of all the ridges of his cock on your tongue made you hazy.

He slid in his seat, quickly reaching a hand out to grasp the edge of the table to stabilize himself. “Fuck..Y/N..” a deep moan emanated from his throat, breathy and heavy, the sound seemed to travel like a wave of electricity through the air, sending a rush of heat through your body. You squeezed your thighs together in protest of this sensation, but you were helpless to stop it. The combination of the taste of him in your mouth, and the sweet, musky smell of his skin made your mind feel foggy, and made you salivate over him, and you tilted your head, your jaw aching from his girth, you could feel your own wetness slipping between your legs. 

“Y/N...ah...mm..I-”

You quickened your pace, holding your tongue firmly against him as more drool dripped down around him, pooling around your hands held firmly at the base of his cock. You felt a vein quiver against your tongue, and you moved your hand, taking more of him than you had been, and you whimpered, feeling the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, the air around you filled with the sounds of his gravelly moans and the wet, slurping sounds of you deepthroating him. 

“Y/N...fuck, I’m gonna cum..”

Your muffled whines sent vibrations through his body and with a shuddering breath, you felt the hot stream hit your throat, and you felt your own body shake, moaning as you tasted him, feeling the compulsive ache in your core grow even more. You moved him in and out of your mouth a couple more times, swallowing all that he had pumped into your mouth before releasing him with an audible pop from between your lips. 

You sat back on your heels, and looked up to see his gaze meet yours. His eyes were soft, sleepy, under heavy lids, his lips parted as he huffed rasped breaths in. After a few quiet moments, the rise and fall of his chest slowed and his breathing began to even out. 

A cool breeze came in from the open window behind him and he sat up and leaned down, reaching a hand out to tuck away a strand of hair that fell over your eyes, caressing your cheek as he did so but-

You flinch. You didn’t mean to. But it was all too lucid now, the fog had lifted. 

You stand, taking a few steps back and turning from him. You reached down to the floor and pulled up the gown you had dropped before, pulling the straps over your shoulders hurriedly. 

“Y/N-” he called out, his voice barely a whisper. 

“I apologize for interrupting your meal, Captain,” you sped through those words. “Please excuse me, Lady Inah still needs me downstairs.” You bowed quickly, and turned hastily out the doors of his room, speeding down the hallway and stairwell to the servants’ chambers. 

After you left, Taehyung sat, frozen to his chair for a few moments. Partly because he was still affected by the euphoric haze you left him in. Partly because he did not know what to do next. Why did you rush off so hastily? He wondered if he’d done something wrong. Or if he should have said something. Perhaps he should’ve done more to stop you from doing this. Perhaps he should’ve kept you from doing this. He regretted now that he did not have the strength to stop you. Perhaps he should’ve kept you from leaving him. He wanted you to stay. 

After a few moments he stood, zipping himself up and sliding his belt back through its buckle. He ran a hand through his hair and gazed around the empty space where you had just been with him. 

He took quick strides from his room, out into the hallway and down to the kitchen. 

“Captain,” Lady Inah greeted him, a flash of concern flew across her mind as she caught sight of the anxious expression on his face. 

“Y/N. Where is she?” 

“She..she’d just gone upstairs to bring you your breakfast as usual, sir..” Lady Inah exchanged a nervous glance with Lira. “Perhaps she’s gone to the servants’ quarters? I send her there sometimes to fetch fresh towels for the kitche-”

He was gone before she could finish, picking his stride up in a small run as he leapt up the winding stairwell, flying to the door at the end of the hall and as he burst through it, was met with the startled and petrified faces of the servant girls that were cleaning the room. 

“Y/N. Is she here?” he huffed. 

“....Yes, sir, she just came in not a few moments ago...” a girl’s voice squeaked quietly from the far corner of the room. 

“Where?” he charged toward her, and she was so startled the broom she held fell from her hands, clattering against the floor. She held up a shaking hand, and pointed to the adjacent room. 

He swung through the open door, and was met with a dense cloud of condensation and heat in the air. It was the servants’ bath. 

At the end of a line of stalls he could make out a silhouette of your body from behind the steam of the shower. He could see your head dropped, hunched over against the wall, your hands across your chest, clasping both of your shoulders. 

He let out a slow exhale, falling back against the dampened marble wall beside him, leaning his head back against the warm stone. Seeing you like this seemed to confirm for him what he already knew to be true, only he didn’t want to believe it - that you did not actually want him.  

Of course you didn’t, he thought to himself. Why would you? Of course you’d be disgusted by him. Of course you’d want to wash the smell of him, this memory, from your body as quickly as you could. 

He stole one more glance at you and turned from the bath, walking back through the servants’ quarters, not seeing the distressed looks on the girls’ faces. 

[cherrydreamer]

Daisychains My entry for Day 7 of the HarringroveApril challenge!

Steve doesn't know the car that pulls up to the lake. Ugly, boxy, some shade of browny orange that reminds him of the puke he regularly had to mop up outside of Scoops. And while he instantly recognises Max, skipping out of the car all bright clothes and loud whoops of greeting, it takes him a few seconds longer to place the guy getting out of the driver's side, following her with the picnic basket that she clearly forgot in her haste. He's dressed in a hooded sweatshirt. Black. Plain. Big enough to hide in. 

Steve’s confused until the guy turns around. Until he swipes a hand across his forehead to brush away the sweat, and the hood falls away from his face And Steve sees him. Billy. All short haired and pale and smaller. So much smaller than he'd ever seemed before.

Steve wants to wave, wants to... acknowledge him somehow. The boy who saved them and died for them then came back alive and then seemed to disappear.  But he's distracted by a hissed, but not exactly quiet, conversation beside him. Dustin, looking angry and Max, looking torn, her voice full of something pained, "Mom said she doesn't like me out all day without an adult. Not anymore." 

"But Steve's here, he's an adult. And it's not like we really want-" Dustin catches himself, but it's too late, and even though Billy doesn't react, Steve knows he's close enough to have heard it. 

Steve thinks about other things he's overhead Max saying. Whispers to Lucas and to Will. About how Billy never does anything anymore. Never says anything. How he stays for hours in his room, but his eyes are surrounded by dark circles. How she hears noises, late at night. Whimpers. Bitten off screams. Pleas. How no one's even been to visit him. No one's called. And it feels wrong, somehow, dismissing him. 

So Steve shakes his head, "Hey, no. We bought enough food. More than enough. He can-" Steve breaks off, looks straight at Billy, "You can stay." 

"'s fine, Harrington. I'll just…" his voice is quiet. A rasp that sounds underused. Rusty. "I can wait in the car."

He jerks his head over at the puke-mobile, and Steve's about to ask him about it. Make some joke about his tastes changing, how he's gone from Eat My Dust  to Bucket of Rust  or something equally lame. But then he remembers. Of course Billy needs a new car. Because his car was...

Steve shakes his head to dislodge the sudden echo of crashing metal, the phantom scent of burning oil.  The prickle of guilt. And maybe he wants to apologise. But how do you apologise for that? And maybe he can be stubborn, when he wants to be. So he just puts his hands on his hips, tilts his head all disapprovingly,

"Seriously, man? This is the best weather we're gonna get. Like. All year. Come make the most of it."

And he reaches out. He wants to grab Billy's wrist. Wants to stop him heading back. But Billy flinches, hard, as soon as Steve's fingertips touch his sleeve, and he pulls his arm to his chest, stepping back to put more distance between them. Steve's hand hovers in the air. They look at each other. Steve takes it all in. Billy, sweltering in a hoodie on the hottest day of the year. The cuffs of it falling over his hands. The way he's not looking up, staring down at his scuffed Chucks with a hole in the toe. How still he is. How tightly he holds himself. How small he seems now. Steve lowers his voice. Soft. Gentle. The kind of tone he hasn't used in a while,

"C'mon. Dustin's mom made peach pie. And she puts, like, cinnamon and nutmeg and some other secret shit into the crust," Steve smiles at him. Tries to make it as soft as his voice, "It's still warm. Tastes best like that." 

Billy doesn't eat the pie. Or any of the food. Doesn't touch the can of beer that Steve places in front of him. Steve wonders, with a sour flood of guilt, whether Billy  can  drink anymore. He knows, from Max, that Billy's on a lot of pills. Knows that some of them knock him out and some of them make him woozy and one bad combination used to make him hallucinate. Used to make him think his Dad was still there. Used to leave him sobbing. Apologising. Pleading.  Worse than the nightmares. So Steve places a can of Coke in front of him instead. Billy ignores that too. He just sits. Curled up small, head resting on knees that are tucked to his chest.  Almost eerily still. Staring out at the lake and the kids but looking past them. Seeing something else entirely.

And Steve doesn't do well with the silence. The awkwardness that builds and builds. But he can't face leaving Billy either. Not like this. It feels as wrong as sending him away.  So Steve just talks. At him. Doesn't ask how are you? or what have you been doing? Or any of the other inane questions that first come to mind.

He talks about movies. Things he's seen. The popular rentals. Goes on tangents about actors and their back catalogues. Starts talking about  Back to the Future  and veers into Teen Wolf via  Family Ties and then actually starts listening to himself and realises he's just spewing a whole load of bullshit. He ends up trailing off awkwardly, leaving the heavy silence to hang again as he picks at the lace of his shoe.

He glances over at Billy.  He's not looking at Steve, but he's not just staring into space either. Instead he's fiddling with the ring pull on the Coke can but his hood is down and the golden fuzz of his shorn hair is shining in the sun.

So Steve keeps talking. Keeps rambling. Doesn't let the hiss of the can interrupt his flow.  Keeps going while Billy drinks and while he pushes the sleeves of his hoodie up to his elbows and while he slowly uncurls. Limbs stretching out on the checked blanket, like some kind of plant unfurling to meet the sun. 

Then Steve stumbles. There's an actress and he knows she's been in a load of things and she's right on the tip of his tongue, "Thingy, uh, Anna, no…Shit. she was in the one with...with the robot.  'No disassemble Stephanie!'"

And it's not the best impression ever, but Steve makes an effort. And Billy snorts. Actually looks over, locks eyes with Steve and murmurs, "Ally Sheedy." And oh . Steve swears there's a quirk to Billy’s lips. Not much but... something.  He smiles. Makes his grin bigger, brighter. Leads by example.  "Yes! That's her. She was good in, uh, Breakfast Club too. The weirdo."

"Yeah?" Billy looks away. His now bare hands skim over the grass and Steve watches as he reaches out to pluck a daisy. The tallest one of the clump. Pokes his thumbnail into the stem. Presses down and makes a hole. "Haven't seen it."

Steve can't tear his eyes away. He watches as Billy picks another daisy and carefully threads it through the hole in the first. Keeps watching as Billy repeats the process, mesmerised by the rhythmic nature of it.   Pick, poke, thread. Repeat.

Billy notices the pause and looks up. Hands stilling, almost like he's ashamed of being caught, but it's Steve who flushes, "It's...yeah. Think you'd...like it." He thinks about Bender. Thinks how some of it might hit a little too hard, "Maybe."

"I'll tell Max," Billy nods, looking back at the ever growing link of daisies in his hands, "Get her to get it."

And Steve remembers now, how Max has been in and out of Family Video a lot 'abusing the Friends and Family Discount ' as Robin had put it. Steve hasn't realised all the videos were for Billy. They hadn't exactly seemed like his kind of thing. As if he’s reading Steve’s mind, Billy offers up the next strand of conversation, "Yeah. She...she's shit at picking out anything good. Starting to think she's doing it on purpose. Last thing she got was, uh, some fucking Care Bears one. Said I could learn a lesson from it." He shrugs, but there's that tiny flicker of a smile again as he glances over at the lake. Steve follows his gaze and spots Max holding out her arms to a giggling El who's trying desperately to doggy paddle towards her. 

Steve thinks that this time, Billy might actually be looking  at  them.  "Been lost in the Land Without Feelings have you, Hargrove?" he jokes, regretting it instantly when Billy's face falls. The tiny smile turns into a tight line, and he lets the daisies drop from his fingers.

"Something like that," he whispers, and it sounds so hollow, so hurting, that Steve can't help but reach out across the blanket and press his fingertips to Billy's now-bare wrist.

This time, Billy doesn't flinch. His eyes fly open and Steve hears the sharp intake of breath the moment he makes contact.

"Gotta say, I prefer the one with the Freezing Machine, and those little baby bears.  A-dor-able ." Steve sings out the last word, and Billy’s smile flickers back, so Steve pushes on even more, “Or maybe the one with Put-His-Foot-in-it-Bear. Y’know. The one that always manages to say exactly the wrong thing. I mean, he’s hilarious and he’s clearly the best looking of the gang but, man, sometimes he really fucks it up.” Steve pauses. Taps his fingers on Billy’s hand for emphasis, “ Good hair though.”

This time Billy laughs. A quick, sudden bark that seems to take him by surprise before it comes again and again, surging into a wave that catches Steve in its rolls and carries him along too. It settles as suddenly as it came, leaving both boys a little breathless.

“Didn’t know you were such a connoisseur, Harrington.” Billy’s voice is softer. Less rusty. “Any more recommendations of heartwarming children’s animation?”

Steve thinks about Billy’s smile. The glimpses he’s been getting. Thinks about how Billy’s voice still has a hint of laughter in it. He has an idea. “I dunno if you know this but, uh, Family Video has a special service. For some of our more...valued clients.”

“Yeah?” Billy’s gone back to playing with the daisies again, and he’s looking down carefully as his fingers weave more and more of them together, but he angles his body towards Steve. Makes it clear he’s actually listening.

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “We, uh, offer home delivery. A selection of films delivered straight to your door. No extra charge. And, uh, for our more...complex films? We offer, uh,  a personal in-home commentary service.” Billy’s mouth twitches again at that, like he knows exactly where Steve’s going. Steve pushes ahead anyway,  “So one of our more charming and, uh...friendly employees will stay with you while you watch, and offer their own unique input on the plot. Might even bring a six- uh, some Cokes and a pizza if you... if you pick a good movie.”

Billy’s grin is even bigger now. Steve  knows  he knows. But he plays along. “That right, Harrington?” 

“That’s right.” 

“And what if, uh, what if I wanted to rent  Breakfast Club?”  Billy asks, with faux innocence, “Would that come with this... personal service? And the pizza?”

Steve nods rapidly, “Definitely. Yes that’s...that one definitely does..”

Billy’s eyebrows raise, and Steve spots the flicker of pink as his tongue darts out, a shimmer of the old Billy showing through, “Sounds...sounds good, Harrington. Yeah. I...I could...I could go for that. You, me and Ally Sheedy.” He smiles, soft again, fingers playing with the flowers in his hands. Steve looks at them. Notices that he’s linked both ends of the chain together, turning it into a loop. 

“Is it done?” Steve gestures to the flowers, and Billy’s face flushes again, a glow of pink across his cheeks. Steve likes the colour. The brightness.  Instead of answering, Billy kneels up slowly and gently places the loop of daisies on Steve’s head. It’s a perfect fit. Sits low enough not to fall off, but high enough that it’s not in Steve’s eyes. 

Steve raises a hand to feel it, gently touching the tiny petals and the surprisingly sturdy stems. He feels an urge to dash to the car, to look at his reflection in the mirror, to see how it looks on him. He settles for trying to read Billy’s expression. He’s still smiling, small and warm, the pinkness in his cheeks is more of a red now, and he can’t quite meet Steve’s eyes when he shrugs,

''s a crown. Suits you."

Steve thinks it might be the lightest crown he’s ever worn.  And the first one he actually feels like he’s earned. 

[makbarnes]

About Us

Summary: I found a questionnaire for couples and I thought what if the relationships I write about answered these?

BUCKY X READER

Who hogs the blankets at night?

Everynight Bucky has to wake up and pull you close in your burrito of blankets. He smiles everytime and finds you eventually in the middle of the stack as he tries to shield his chest from the cold. He kisses your forehead before he goes back to sleep to wake up with you tucked in all of the blankets again by morning.

If you two fall asleep on the couch it usually turns Bucky into a blanket hog however. He tucks it around the corners of your legs to get himself comfy before you know it he is asleep and turned over with a blanket wrapped around him like a toga. You giggle every time and snap a picture while you can.

Who eats the uneaten pizza crust?

As you take small bites around the edge of the crust you toss the pieces onto your plate and sigh as you clean your fingers with a napkin. You paused the movie and walked over to the counter and set your plate down. You turned around to grab something to drink as Bucky came over and gasped.

“What?”

“You don’t eat the pizza crust? That’s the best part!” He loudly stated as he picked up one of the pieces and chewed it.

“I don’t like the taste of plain dough. You can have them if you want.”

“Just another reason we were made for each other, Doll.” He smiled as he pulled you against him for a hug and joined you on the couch with your pizza crusts.

Who is crying over a sad movie?

Your nose was tucked against the blanket as Bucky ran his fingers through your hair. You had agreed to watch this movie Bucky suggested and it was pulling at your heart strongly. You held back your tears for most of the movie but just as the two old lovers who thought they didn’t love each other admit their feelings you feel tears coming to your eyes. You sat up and scooted closer into Bucky’s side as you watch intently. The woman reached up from the wheelchair and laced her fingers with the man’s. “I love you.” The woman said just loudly enough for the man in the hospital bed to hear. “It took you long enough.” As the two people hugged you felt a tear breech over your eyelid and fall over your cheek. As romantic music played in the background the old woman crawled into the bed with the man and they shared a soft kiss. You grabbed Bucky’s hand and pulled it against your chest, getting his attention on your tears. As the screen went black you heard the heart monitor go into a dead tone and tears fell rapidly. You sniffled into your hands as you let the tears fall and the movie ended to show real life pictures of the couple. Whimpering a bit Bucky pulled you onto his lap and kissed your temple. “I didn’t know it would make you cry.”

“It was just so sweet, to be together like that, their entire lives they were in love with each other and they finally got their moment and died! How are you not bawling?!”

“Aw it’s okay baby. We have hundreds of years together.” You snuggled against his chest as you got to pick the next movie for the night.

Who talks smack on game nights?

“Who is the queen now?!” You exclaimed as you placed a hotel on each of your owned properties on the monopoly board.

“Don’t get too cocky now Princess.”

“I’m gonna win! Daddy’s gonna loose!” You chided happily as he landed on your most expensive place. Holding your hand out with a winning smirk you heard him grumble as he gave you the money he owed for rent. “Thank you for visiting.” You laughed as you rolled the dice and landed on the free parking space. “Yes!”

“You have to be cheating.”

“Don’t be a sore looser James.”

“Watch it Doll. You haven’t won yet.”

“It’s hard to hold it back when I know what’s gonna happen!” You were excited you had never won a game and you were promised no punishments for anything that happened for the rest of the night. You smiled as he landed on yet another one of your properties and paid you even more of his money. You laughed as you drew a chance card and read that you had to pay housing fees for each hotel, which costed 175 for each one. You brushed it off saying how you would just win it back on your next roll, seeing free parking was near. Bucky rolled and sucked on his lip as he moved to the free parking spot and picked up the stack of paper money you had just set down.

“Looks like my luck is changing Doll.”

“Not for long.” You rolled and landed on a railroad. Rolling your eyes as you counted out $400 dollars for Bucky he flashed a playboy smile at you.

“I’ll take an apology now and wont punish you.”

“No. I will still win this!” You huffed as Bucky rolled again and landed on community chest which had him land on go and collect another 400. You rolled and landed on luxury tax which broke you down to your last 100. As you nervously passed Go your money went back up to three but you landed on Bucky’s railroad piece.

“Gonna have to mortgage Sweets.”

“Shut up.” You chewed on your thumb a bit before picking up your yellow set along with your orange and selling them to the bank to get just enough to pay Bucky rent. “There, Let’s hurry this up.”

“Woah! Someone isn't so happy now that they are losing.”

“I’m not losing, just a bit behind.”

“Mhm. C’mere, I miss you.” You stood up as Bucky made his move on the board and blushed as he pulled you down to his lap. “That’s better.” He pressed a kiss against your neck, causing you to lean back against him. “Better focus before you lose.” You huffed as you grabbed the die and rolled and landed on go to jail.

“Fuck!” You yelled and you felt Bucky’s hand moving around to tease you and eventually forget the game.

Bucky

Who hogs the blankets at night

Everynight Bucky has to wake up and pull you close in your burrito of blankets. He smiles everytime and finds you eventually in the middle of the stack as he tries to shield his chest from the cold. He kisses your forehead before he goes back to sleep to wake up with you tucked in all of the blankets again by morning.

If you two fall asleep on the couch it usually turns Bucky into a blanket hog however. He tucks it around the corners of your legs to get himself comfy before you know it he is asleep and turned over with a blanket wrapped around him like a toga. You giggle every time and snap a picture while you can.

Who eats the uneaten pizza crust

As you take small bites around the edge of the crust you toss the pieces onto your plate and sigh as you clean your fingers with a napkin. You paused the movie and walked over to the counter and set your plate down. You turned around to grab something to drink as Bucky came over and gasped.

“What?”

“You don’t eat the pizza crust? That’s the best part!” He loudly stated as he picked up one of the pieces and chewed it.

“I don’t like the taste of plain dough. You can have them if you want.”

“Just another reason we were made for each other, Doll.” He smiled as he pulled you against him for a hug and joined you on the couch with your pizza crusts.

Who is crying over a sad movie

Your nose was tucked against the blanket as Bucky ran his fingers through your hair. You had agreed to watch this movie Bucky suggested and it was pulling at your heart strongly. You held back your tears for most of the movie but just as the two old lovers who thought they didn’t love each other admit their feelings you feel tears coming to your eyes. You sat up and scooted closer into Bucky’s side as you watch intently. The woman reached up from the wheelchair and laced her fingers with the man’s. “I love you.” The woman said just loudly enough for the man in the hospital bed to hear. “It took you long enough.” As the two people hugged you felt a tear breech over your eyelid and fall over your cheek. As romantic music played in the background the old woman crawled into the bed with the man and they shared a soft kiss. You grabbed Bucky’s hand and pulled it against your chest, getting his attention on your tears. As the screen went black you heard the heart monitor go into a dead tone and tears fell rapidly. You sniffled into your hands as you let the tears fall and the movie ended to show real life pictures of the couple. Whimpering a bit Bucky pulled you onto his lap and kissed your temple. “I didn’t know it would make you cry.”

“It was just so sweet, to be together like that, their entire lives they were in love with each other and they finally got their moment and died! How are you not bawling?!”

“Aw it’s okay baby. We have hundreds of years together.” You snuggled against his chest as you got to pick the next movie for the night.

Who talks smack on game nights

“Who is the queen now?!” You exclaimed as you placed a hotel on each of your owned properties on the monopoly board.

“Don’t get too cocky now Princess.”

“I’m gonna win! Daddy’s gonna loose!” You chided happily as he landed on your most expensive place. Holding your hand out with a winning smirk you heard him grumble as he gave you the money he owed for rent. “Thank you for visiting.” You laughed as you rolled the dice and landed on the free parking space. “Yes!”

“You have to be cheating.”

“Don’t be a sore looser James.”

“Watch it Doll. You haven’t won yet.”

“It’s hard to hold it back when I know what’s gonna happen!” You were excited you had never won a game and you were promised no punishments for anything that happened for the rest of the night. You smiled as he landed on yet another one of your properties and paid you even more of his money. You laughed as you drew a chance card and read that you had to pay housing fees for each hotel, which costed 175 for each one. You brushed it off saying how you would just win it back on your next roll, seeing free parking was near. Bucky rolled and sucked on his lip as he moved to the free parking spot and picked up the stack of paper money you had just set down.

“Looks like my luck is changing Doll.”

“Not for long.” You rolled and landed on a railroad. Rolling your eyes as you counted out $400 dollars for Bucky he flashed a playboy smile at you.

“I’ll take an apology now and wont punish you.”

“No. I will still win this!” You huffed as Bucky rolled again and landed on community chest which had him land on go and collect another 400. You rolled and landed on luxury tax which broke you down to your last 100. As you nervously passed Go your money went back up to three but you landed on Bucky’s railroad piece.

“Gonna have to mortgage Sweets.”

“Shut up.” You chewed on your thumb a bit before picking up your yellow set along with your orange and selling them to the bank to get just enough to pay Bucky rent. “There, Let’s hurry this up.”

“Woah! Someone isn't so happy now that they are losing.”

“I’m not losing, just a bit behind.”

“Mhm. C’mere, I miss you.” You stood up as Bucky made his move on the board and blushed as he pulled you down to his lap. “That’s better.” He pressed a kiss against your neck, causing you to lean back against him. “Better focus before you lose.” You huffed as you grabbed the die and rolled and landed on go to jail.

“Fuck!” You yelled as you ended up having to pay to get out of jail and landing on the railroads owned by Bucky.

Who always sings with the radio?

As Bucky drove to the cabin he had surprised you with for an anniversary you clicked on the radio. He smiled as the music grew louder in the car and you rolled down the windows. You laughed as you danced in your seat with the music before your voice began to carry through the car. Bucky grabbed your hand and brought it up to his lips with a kiss.

“Sing with me!” You searched through your playlist for your wedding song and a shine grew in his eye. Bucky took a turn and you held your free hand out of the window.

Who would accidentally burn the kitchen down cooking?

You rushed over to the sink to finish rinsing the potatoes before your meat began to burn. You had been working for hours in the kitchen and this was your second attempt to make dinner for Bucky. He had been sent on a month-long mission and even if he skipped dinner and went straight to dessert you still wanted it to be perfect for him. He had texted you when his plane landed and how long it would be until he was home. You took a deep breath before mixing and sliding the meal into the oven. Prepping the next step for your potatoes you smelled the air and cursed yourself for forgetting the pie on the top rack of the oven. You had set the oven to broil to try and crisp the skin of the fish you were cooking and completely forgot about it. You pulled open the oven door after shutting the oven off for the area to fill with black smoke. You began coughing and couldn’t hear the door open. Bucky immediately dropped his bag and searched for you.

“Doll?!”

“There’s no way you're home already?!” You stomped your foot on the floor as you felt him pulling you away from the stove. You moved your hand to clear the air around you a bit before rushing over to the windows to let the house air out.

“Are you okay?”

“Yea. I was trying to make you a special dinner.”

“Well I’m glad I got home before you burned down the house.”

“But now dinner is ruined.”

“That’s okay, I’m craving something sweet anyway.” Your laughed echoed as he carried you to the bedroom.

Who does the shopping?

You tried taking Bucky with you to the grocery store but it was proving to be difficult. He was excited at all of the new food and loaded up your cart with these useless things he would never finish and would end up going out of date. After the five hours spent in the grocery store you sat down with him and told him to list off things he wanted to try because you were going to the store alone from now on. He whined to go with you but eventually gave up when you promised to buy him one new thing each time.

Who kills the spiders?

You screamed at the top of your lungs before hopping on the center counter and tucking your feet under your butt.

“What’s wrong Doll?”

“Spider. Sink. Get it!” You waved your hand over to the area and whined when you saw it move higher up the side of the sink.

“Calm down. Hand me a paper towel.”

“Ew, here.” You tossed the sheet in the air for it to miss Bucky’s hand completely and fall to the floor.

“Doll, It’s not gonna reach you over there.”

“Don’t care. Kill it.” Bucky reached down to pick up the sheet before pressing it against the spider and crumpling it up in the trash.

“Better?”

“My hero.” You wrapped your arms around him for a hug before you each went back to cleaning.

Who is the Morning or Night person?

Every morning Bucky wakes you up with kisses and cuddles because he has been laying in bed for an hour now wanting to get up. Sometimes you could convince him to stay in bed with you and it would always be a loving lazy morning, where you wouldn’t leave until noon. Other times Bucky was trying to wake you up to spend the morning with him. He always asked about going on his run with him or having breakfast at the cafe downstairs. You would always try to make it to some of his early activities the same way he would spend the day in bed with you.

But ever so often you would sleep the mornings away and Bucky would be asleep as you read a book into the night. You were a night owl. Always had been always will be. Something about the mystery of the night always pulled you towards it. Bucky would try to stay up with you but he would fall asleep on the couch with you awake at 3 in the morning finishing a movie.

Who is more loving?

Bucky is loving with gestures. He will tell you he loves you every day no matter what but if it comes to it he will always choose a gesture to make you blush and have a permanent smile on your face because you know how special you are. Bucky is going to say you, but that’s because you showed him how to love. He knew before HYDRA but after he had lost every part of him and basically have to restart. You reminded him of his favorite feeling in the world and he would do anything to hold onto it.

[random-mha-thoughts]

Pumpkin Kiss (Monoma x Reader)

Pairing: Monoma x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Prompt: Fall with Monoma, wither, pumpkin pie, hayride (I used all three ayee)

Summary: Class 1-A and 1-B take a trip to the local fall festival where Monoma starts acting more zealous than normal.

Word count: 1,555

Tags: @rintomoj @yamichxn @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: Ahhh the fall entry for the Seasonal Love Event.  With Fall, we’ve reached the last 2 days of the event...  I really hope I did Monoma justice with this, it’s my first time writing a 1-B character, but I tried to inject as much fluff as I could into it so it’s sweet (like pumpkin pie, hehe)

Seasonal Love Event Masterlist

"I think Monoma's being crazier than usual today," Kendo comments, munching on her kettle corn.

"Wonder if he's on edge about something?" Pony also perks up.  There's syrup smudged cutely over her lips from the caramel apple she's eating.  She's in absolute childish bliss picking on it.

"It's probably about you," Tetsutetsu says bluntly, his gaze directed straight at me.

"Why would any of his dramatic episodes have to do with me?" I snort as all of them direct their attention after his remark.

"Because even right now he's staring straight at you from across the field."  Ibara nods her chin over behind me.  "I also believe he must be put off by something."  I don't miss how she mumbles under her breath about him possibly needing an exorcism because of the sudden change.

"I'm really tired of having to chop his ass every two seconds.  It's like he forgot how to act all of a sudden."  The orange-haired girl rolls her eyes and hands me the half-full bag.  "Have the rest, I'm full."

I figured she wouldn't be able to eat all of it.  Kendo openly gaped at how generous the bag of kettle corn was when she bought it and - wrongly - proclaimed she'd be able to finish it.  I was correct to not buy anything and wait for her to give up.

Kirishima strolls over to greet Tetsutetsu with their secret handshake - no one really knows when they came up with such an elaborate routine, it just happened - before flashing his sharp teeth at me next.  "Hey, Bakugou, Sero, and I are gonna go hit up the carnival games, you wanna come with?"

"Sure, I wouldn't mind-"

"Uh, no, I don't think so."

The atmosphere suddenly fills with vexation as we all know who's voice that is.  The blond stomps over from behind Kirishima and crosses his arms over his chest.  How did he even hear that from across the field?  Was he eavesdropping or was he already slowly making his way over like the creeper he's become today?

"(Y/n) doesn't need to be hanging around you pompous, fake heroes."  I can practically hear the way he looks down his nose at Kirishima, thought there's a bit more edge.  "We provide enough company and enjoyment by ourselves, you're not needed."

I want to roll my eyes.  And why should I let this fool decide who I should hang out with?

"Besides, we all wanted to go on the h-hayride together," he concludes, sounding indignant until he stutters.

Monoma stuttered?

"Oh!  I think that would be so fun!"  Pony's eyes shine as she claps in joy.  "That's actually a pretty good idea, Monoma!"

"Yeah, it was the first intelligent thing you've said all day," Kendo jabs at him.

Kirishima shrugs and flashes an unbothered smile at me.  "We can hang another time then.  See you around!"  After bidding goodbye to me and Tetsutetsu, he jogs off to find the rest of his crew.

I whirl onto the blond and point a finger at his face.  "Don't try to control me and my friends, I do what I want."

Monoma flicks his hair casually, disregarding everything I just said.  "But I had a great idea, didn't I?  A much better one than just playing silly carnival games."

"Carnival games are fun, you know!  It's not just sitting on a stack of hay twiddling your thumbs!"

"But it would be relaxing, don't you think?" Pony chirps, her eyes still twinkling at the thought.

I don't have the heart to deflate her excitement.  "Yeah, I guess you're right," is my meek assent.  Though, I don't think it would be ll that relaxing considering the crisp weather we're experiencing.  Relaxation is more for summer I'd say, not fall with the withering colored leaves.

We make our way over to the hayride plain, Ibara deciding to leave in favor of taking some scenic pictures of the surrounding leaves.  There are only two carts and five of us, so we decide to split into a group of three and a pair.

"Kendo's the only one who can handle Monoma, so they should be together," Tetsutetsu suggests.  "I'll go with Pony and (Y/n)-"

"Uh, no way!" Kendo interrupts, a clearly displeased sneer morphing her features.  "Just because I can handle him doesn't mean I want to sit near him for at least 20 minutes."

"I have to agree," the boy in question pipes up.  "Besides, I'd rather be with (Y/n) who's nicer to me."

An unspoken hangs for the briefest moment after he said that, everyone glancing at me before Kendo shrugs.  "Welp, fine by me."

Aw come on.

Before I can complain, the three of them get into their hay-covered cart and get themselves comfortable.

"Shall we get going then?" Monoma questions in his over-dramatic way, sweeping his hand toward our own cart.

"Yeah, let's just get this over with," I mumble.

We mount ourselves onto the wagon.  Some of the hay is soft enough that it doesn't poke into me.  Once the horses start moving, the gentle rocking of the wagon is somewhat comforting.  I try to relax and ignore my partner, hoping he'll get the hint that I don't want him to talk as I lay my back against the floor.

"Pie?"

I peek an eye open to see an aluminum container hovering above my face.  I sit up and stare at Monoma questioningly.  "Where did you get this?"  Judging from the dark orange color, it's pumpkin pie.

"While you guys were discussing arrangements, I bought some for us to eat."  He places it in my lap before opening the clear lid on his own.  "Since you said there was nothing to do on a hayride, I gave us something to do."

Cautiously, I roll up and open the container.  "You didn't poison this, right?"

He waves his hand at me.  "Why would I do that?"

It's not that I don't trust him, I'm just wary of his behavior today and him being kind while choosing me to ride with is slightly unsettling.  Yet, I know he wouldn't hurt me and I appreciate the gesture, so I open it and take a bite.  The natural sweetness of the pumpkin dancing on my tongue while the crust has just enough texture to balance the softness of the middle.

Monoma's eyebrows furrow minutely.  "I also didn't want you to regret riding with me instead of the others."

I raise my own brow.  "I'd only regret it if you started your bullshit."

He levels his periwinkle gaze at me.  "Do you prefer Tetsutetsu and 1-A to me?"

I'm taken back by his question.  "Just maybe for fun, when you're in your moods about them I guess.  You're my classmate, not them.  And Tetsutetsu is fun to hang out with.  I prefer just talking to you like this."

"Oh.  I see."  He looks down at his half eaten pie.

Past his head, I observe a line of pumpkins decorating the road and laugh at one of the more irregularly formed ones.  "Are they sure that's a pumpkin?"

Monoma turns his head around and lets out a chuckle.  "I think the irregular ones taste sweeter."

"You don't say?"

I finish the rest of my own in silence, stealing glances at the boy's contemplative expression. He's actually quite handsome, anyone would fall at his feet if he weren't such an uptight pain in the ass most of the time. Pretty hair, pretty eyes, pretty face, even a strong quirk - he just needs to work on his attitude.

"Hey," his head lifts up and meets my probing eyes, only for his words to catch when he notices how I've leaned slightly forward.

The fork still frozen in my mouth as I hold it, I maintain his gaze and hum, waiting for his question.

A sudden brush of pink dusts his cheeks and he rubs his hand. "You said like my company, right?"

"Yeah, I do." My voice gets softer, chest pounding in anticipation for what's coming next.

Monoma coughs with the difficulty of formulating his words. It's endearing to see him struggle instead of being overzealous. "I-I like your company too," he rushes out like ripping off a band-aid.  "In more ways than one.  I'm trying to say I like you."  With every word, his face saturates in more and more color.

A tenderness wells up inside me as I process his confession.  Monoma being out of character towards me proves the sincerity of his words, or at least the fact that his feelings for me are more special than the rest.

In a spur of the moment, I lean over and plant a light kiss on his cheek.  The response I got was priceless: scarlet blood flowing straight to his ears as he clears his throat to regain his composure.  Until he catches me off guard and counters with another kiss that barely misses the corner of my lip, causing my own embarrassed warmth to flood through me and butterflies to gather in my belly.  The sweetness from the pumpkin pie he ate lingers there when I swipe my tongue over to wet my suddenly parched lips.

"So, do we agree to spend more time with each other?" Monoma attempts sounding calm and collected.

I shuffle over closer to him, our fingers brushing together.  "Yes, I'd like that."

Monoma's like that weird shaped pumpkin in a way.  He doesn't present as the best outwardly, but he's sweeter if you decide to take a bite.

[soliavenne]

Just Sand Sibling Things + Shinki: How do they deal with cooking?

Hi! I have been thinking of having Just Sand Sibling Things (+ Shinki now and then) as a series of works. :) I guess this is the first entry haha.

Hope you like it! <3

--

Excellent cook, obviously the most versatile out of the four. Appetizer, main entrée, snacks and dessert, you name it. Not very adventurous when it comes to recipes, but she’s well-rounded enough  with the basics to tweak an ingredient or a two from the book if she knows she’ll be able to improve the taste.

Knows that she’s great at what she does, and she’s damn proud of it.

Very confident, but can actually be secretly conscious of what she serves, especially when it’s her first time cooking the specific food. She would rather start over again than serve something that doesn’t suit her standards.

Tries her best to mind her own business while eating but is stealthily inspecting her brothers, or her husband and son’s facial expression as they eat her food.

Very organized, every ingredient is in each separate plates. Not the type to leave a pile of dirty plates on the sink and wash it all at once by the end of cooking. She will wash some of them now and then if she could leave the cooking process alone on itself.

Praise her damn food, praise her cooking skills. She might not look like it but she’s a big, big sucker for appreciation. If you have been generous for the past few days with compliments, she’ll try her best to free up her schedule and proceed to serve a damn feast over the table.

If ever she ends up serving something that doesn’t taste good, she would understand a very faint grimace or two on your face. But that’s all, don’t bother telling her about it if she doesn’t ask you about it. She knows what’s wrong already and she’s already beating up herself about it.

Mostly cooks foods that are on the healthier spectrum, but would flat out bake herself her own pizza and brownies at 12 AM.

Would try to hide her midnight snacks as much as possible, but if she gets caught, she would huff and act all annoyed but is secretly happy to share it. She just likes riling people up a bit, but she’s very sweet and generous.

What reads above cannot be applied if she’s on her period or she had a fight with Shikamaru, you better fuck off and leave her alone.

--

He’s not that much keen to cooking, but this man is not dumb. Knows at least the very, very basic fundamentals around the kitchen.

It’s those common mistakes that usually happens if someone’s just starting to venture out on cooking. A little too much salt, a little heavy on the pepper, the meat is tad bit raw while the crust is already burned. Those kind of technical mishaps. He would not be unbelievably awful at it.  

Tries his best to listen to Temari’s advices on cooking, but he ends up overthinking it. He’s best off learning on his own and figuring out for himself what went wrong.

Skilled at cooking instant foods and junk foods. Knows damn well how to elevate them. The type of food he ends up cooking are more on the indulgent side, mostly savory type of foods. Hamburgers, meat pizza, steak, and ribs, you name it.

Has been secretly saving up to buy his own pellet grill and personalize it.

Does not know exactly how to cook healthy-family based foods like vegetable stew or chicken soup or anything of the like. He either gets to eat it if Temari is cooking, or it’s a takeout.

Very messy cook. Spoons with unidentified sauces are everywhere, there’s even a plate on the living room that he’s not sure how it even got there.

Would probably wash it once a dirty pan had punched his face and Temari is screaming on the other end of the handle.

Don’t talk to him when he’s focusing, he’s going to get flustered about the whole thing.

Just as sensitive as Temari when it comes to feedback. He would laugh alongside a negative comment, but he won’t be cooking anything that isn’t instant food for the next whole week.

If you praise him so much he will end up being so worked up about it that he cooks the same thing tomorrow night. He would try so hard to hit the same note but he was overthinking it the whole time so it doesn’t end up as good.

A genuine praise could go such a long way for Kankuro. He might not look like it but he’s genuinely appreciative of it and finds it very encouraging.

--

Doesn’t necessarily hate cooking, but he just doesn’t know to pave his way around it.

Believes that cooking is a fundamental skill, but is still avoiding the opportunity to work on it. He had bought some cooking books and probably printed some recipes from Yahoo and allrecipes.com, but he’s secretly relieved whenever Kankuro asks if he wants something to eat from the store.

Very shy about asking for help, but if Temari or Kankuro does volunteer to teach him something, he would not refuse it.

Nearly passed out once because he has been letting his breakfast pass when Temari left for Konoha. Kankuro scolded him a bit, but ten minutes later they were already talking about sandwiches. When Gaara mentioned that he misses waking up to Temari cooking pancakes in their shared apartment, they surprisingly ended up having a genuinely-deep conversation about it; talking along the lines of how they really feel about their sister leaving Suna.

Kankuro told him that he’ll be letting him off easy but if he wants to be a much more effective Kazekage, he has to take care of himself. The epiphany had hit Gaara so hard he bought a new apron and a pan on his way home from work.

The first set of foods that he focused on was under the bracket of breakfast meals. A bowl of plain oatmeal and a little bit of sugar was okay, but it did get redundant and he swore to himself he’d throw the bowl out of the window if he had to make another one of it again for the 3rd week of that month.

Began to buy pancake box-mixes where all he had to worry about was adding eggs, water and oil. Once he had gotten the hang of it, he decided to follow a pancake recipe from scratch. He thinks it tastes better, but it wasn’t something he could do every day.

Thinks he had found his soulmate when he started making granola. He could prepare it in advance and stock it up. He finds it very convenient.

An understandable kind of messy, maybe a little smudge of batter on his cheek when he’s cooking pancakes. Dirty plates would be on a pile but he would arrange them by size and category before washing them all together after he ends up eating.

Takes cooking seriously that he even bought a hairnet. Kankuro caught him once wearing it and the ten-minute laugh he had out of watching his baby brother cook with a hairnet on just made Gaara opt to tie his hair instead.

Sometimes boils eggs at night in advance so that he could simply peel one in the morning for breakfast.  

All in all, he mostly cooks usual, literally off the recipe book breakfast meals. Most of them are healthy.

It would take a lot of time before you get him to serve you the food he made. He doesn’t like disappointing people and as stoic as he may be he would also be just as sensitive about it.

Began to develop the drive to cook better when he adopted Shinki. He remembers vividly how happy he was whenever Yashamaru brings him a bento, so he decides to take the effort to study bento making now and then whenever he’s not that busy.

When he saw a small, cute apron from the store, he found himself buying it to give to Shinki. He still hasn’t built up the courage to ask Shinki to have a cooking bonding with him though because he’s not that confident about his skills just yet.

--

A very responsible kid. Has the self-awareness that basics of cooking should be developed in order to survive independently no matter where you go. He even knows how to start fire from scratch.

The first thing he had ask Gaara regarding preparing food is how Gaara makes his coffee. Ever since he was able to replicate it, he sometimes even gets up earlier than his father so that he could prepare the warm beverage beforehand. He doesn’t drink coffee everyday, but with a craving now and then sometimes, he likes adding a splash of milk to it. He and Gaara both share the same preference when it comes to the level of sweetness.  

Not very adventurous when it comes to recipes. As long as it’s filling and easy to make, that will be his chosen route.

Has asked Gaara once about his special pancake mix, and he had been making it mostly everyday. The fluffy texture of it soon got a little tiring, so he started wondering what else he could eat for breakfast. Despite being very mature for his age, he’s still a kid who has the hint of wonder for foods that are still comfortable yet a little exciting now and then.

When Yodo took him and Araya once to a waffle stand on their way home from a mission, he started buying one almost everyday. He’s more of a savory-waffle kind of kid.

Gaara takes notice of this, and when Shinki woke up to a wafflemaker and printed waffle recipes on the kitchen counter one morning, he couldn’t help a very, very rare and genuine smile on his face.

He might not that be that much inclined to cooking, but on days where he’s not busy, he tries to read about it. His main drive about cooking is so that his father comes home to a much more healthier meal instead of having takeouts almost every night. He loves and respect his father that much, and he’s also health and fitness-conscious since he really does take his job as a shinobi very seriously.

The same as Temari in terms of cooking. Neatly organized, no dirty plates lying around the counter. Every ingredient is measured and calculated.

His face might not be anywhere near grinning but he’s actually happy whenever he dons the apron that Gaara bought him.

Doesn’t really care if you don’t like the food unless you’re his dad.

 --

[ladykissingfish]

The Great Akatsuki Bake-Off

*this was a request in my inbox, I’m so sorry Anonymous I accidentally deleted it before I could reply, but I saw your message and here’s the response! ❤️*

Premise: The Akatsuki is broke af (again), and Pein comes up with the idea of having a bake sale to earn money. Every member of the Akatsuki makes a dessert to sell; chaos (or hilarity) ensues.

**Also I picture them setting up tables outside of one of the Akatsuki hideout caves which of course is equipped with a fully functioning kitchen because why not Jim**

Pein

It was his idea, he’s the leader, so naturally he ain’t cooking. The most the Pein-body will do is sit in the kitchen with Konan while she cooks, offering his opinion or praise.

Kisame

Kisame isn’t the biggest fan of sweets, so is at a bit of a loss for what to make. In the end, he decides to go with something that’s decidedly more savory than sweet; bacon-flavored scones with a maple syrup glazing. This requires some kneading and precise shaping, the latter of which requires small, delicate fingers that Kisame borrows Konan for. Should be noted that he wears a pink Kiss The Cook apron, and he blushes like crazy when Konan reads it and delivers one to his cheek. He gets a bit over-exuberant with the icing, getting more of it on the table than the actual scones. However, the end result is light, fluffy, and absolutely delicious. Deidara especially loves the bacon aspect, and is able to snitch a great number of these until Kakuzu catches him and forces him to pay up.

Deidara

Deidara would make a classic lava cake. He’d know absolutely nothing about this dessert beforehand; he’d be going through a cookbook, his eyes would fixate on the word “lava”, and he’d be sold. Sasori insists that he put on rubber gloves beforehand, because “Nobody wants your hand-drool in their food, brat.” Lava cake requires a very delicate touch and precise timing, something that Deidara has had to become familiar with when deploying his arsenal of bombs. Yet despite being careful he would have to start and re-start this mix many times; maybe he gets eggshells in the batter here, or mistakes oil for milk there. The inside of a lava cake has to smooth and liquid-y but the outside has to be soft yet firm; a single minute in the oven can make the difference between wonderful and awful for these little cakes. When he finally perfects one, he’s ecstatic; but the rest of the group is horrified, at how destroyed the kitchen is. Chocolate batter and powdered sugar covering every wall; yet, somehow, the guy himself remains spotless. Also, Deidara has made another critical error; he assumed that because the recipe was for a cake, it was for a LARGE cake that he could cut into sections and sell piece by piece. However, lava cakes are always small, individual desserts ... and Deidara has only made ONE. Still, he’ll take his one beauty and sell it almost immediately, leaving him time to wander around and filch “free samples” from everyone else’s dishes.

Zetsu

Nobody wants Zetsu trying to cook, because everyone is terrified of what he’d put into his creations. However, White Zetsu insists that (t)he(y) wants to participate, so the others hesitantly let him do so (with everyone periodically coming in to monitor him). His contribution? Pie. Zetsu knows that the key to delicious pie is in the light flakiness of the crust, and he creates several pies that literally melt in the mouth. And he doesn’t just do one flavor; he does apple, blueberry, cherry, and something he calls “surprise berry” ((which is really just a mix of raspberry, blackberry, and strawberry). Before Tobi goes to help Itachi, he’s in charge of helping Zetsu gather up the fruit, and he helps to peel and core and pit and wash until “my hands are really sleepy Zetsu-san!” Zetsu thinks his pies are perfect creations as a whole but Kakuzu insists he cuts them into individual slices to maximize profits, which White Zetsu balks over but Black Zetsu tells him to be quiet about.

Konan

Konan is a delicate, beautiful flower, so naturally anything she makes would reflect this. After much deliberation, she decides to make her version of a layered lemon mascarpone cake. The cake itself is a wonderfully moist vanilla sponge infused with lemon curd, layered with a thick lemon, honey and mascarpone cream, topped with fresh berries, and a light sprinkle of chopped pecans. At first she was only going to make one cake and portion it out into about 20 small pieces; but the demand for it was so high that Kakuzu told her he’d stay and sell the rest while she got back into the kitchen and made another. She’s by far the neatest chef in the kitchen, as she cleans up her mess as she goes so when she’s through, all she has to wash is the empty cake pan itself. She makes sure to save a large piece to secretly take to Nagato later; it’s been a long time since he’s had anything sweet to eat.

Kakuzu

Kakuzu doesn’t want to cook; he’d rather be the one running the sale. However he recognizes that the more desserts they have the more profit they can make, so he grudgingly makes a few trays of brownies. His secret ingredient? Sour cream. At first everyone sees him putting this into his mix and think he’s gone crazy; however, after they try one ((and don’t think for a second he’s not charging his fellow teammates for even a tiny sliver)) they’re blown away by how good they are. After he sets his items on the table, he’s the one who collects the money from the customers. Has to be talked down from the exorbitant prices that he tries to charge people at first. “How much for a piece of blueberry pie?” “500,000 ¥.”

Sasori

He really isn’t into baking (because why would he be? he doesn’t eat) but he knows how to read and follow a recipe. After some careful thought, he chooses to make cupcakes. At first he resolves only to make a dozen, and to keep it all one simple flavor: the chocolate with vanilla frosting that’s in the recipe. Yet as he stands there, a feeling takes hold of him; he remembers happier times, perched on a stool in the kitchen and watching/helping his grandmother as she cooked. That nostalgia drives him to get more creative, and make MUCH more than intended. Some of his creations are great; such as his ginger-chocolate cupcakes with fudge icing. But others, like his broccoli and carrot cake topped with “spicy” cream cheese, not so much. Regardless, the majority of his creations sell, which Sasori’s pleased about. Should be noted that Kakuzu did not entirely trust Sasori not to put some kind of poison into his dessert, so he forced Hidan to sneak and taste-test everything (as he’s the only one who would regenerate from certain death). But Hidan wouldn’t know arsenic from cinnamon; and he winds up with a hell of a stomach-ache after his forced culinary servitude.

Itachi and Tobi

Seeing as how he loves dango so much, Itachi decides to make several dozen sticks of the tri-colored sweet rice dumplings. He keeps the pink dumpling the common strawberry flavor, and the white plain, but he does something special with the green ball, flavoring it with vanilla extract and green tea. Because Tobi is a nightmare in the kitchen (and because he needs supervision when it comes to sweets), Itachi allows him to help, mainly in the form of sticking the dumplings neatly on the stick once they’re shaped. He’s a good helper, except for when Itachi takes his eyes off of him, as he likes to add icing, sprinkles, and a variety of decadent extras that don’t belong on this simple dessert. And it’s a good thing that Itachi makes so many, seeing as they BOTH sneak and eat quite a few when the other is distracted. Tobi is very helpful when it comes to pushing their wares, as his carefree, childlike demeanor attracts customers to their table.

Hidan

Hidan wants something that’s visually representative of him, so what does he make? Red velvet cake bars. The outside is covered with a white-silver frosting, but when you cut into it, the deep red of the cake greatly resembles blood. Hidan isn’t the best at baking (or cooking in general) so he asks Konan to help him when she’s not occupied with her own dish. He’s surprisingly calm and conscientious in the kitchen, keeping his swearing to a minimum and being extra-careful with measuring out ingredients and waiting on the oven to do its thing. He borrows Kisame’s Kiss The Cook apron, only he crosses out the second O and replaces it with a C. His bars come out slightly uneven but really good nonetheless. However, being Hidan, he can’t resist throwing in a prank; he saves some of the cake batter and holds it in his mouth, then, after taking a bite of someone else’s fare, claims that it’s poisoned and spits “blood” out of his mouth, which freaks out their early customers until Kakuzu catches him and exiles him back inside.