#and not ever wash their dishes so I hardly ever have stuff to cook with or SPACE to cook because they do not clean

[togrowoldinv]

Hear It in the Silence

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Nat comforts you after a tough day

Note: It’s soft, soft, soft, Natasha. I’ve done a million variations of this Nat comfort but it’s honestly my fave type of fic to write, so here’s another one. Also, yes the title is a Taylor Swift reference lol. I hope y’all enjoy it!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

When Natasha gets home from work, she can tell you aren’t in the best mood. Unlike usual there is no music playing a little too loud while you cook dinner, and you aren’t excitedly standing by the door like you often are when she arrives home.

“Hey y/n,” Natasha says. She greets you with a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey Nat, dinner is almost ready,” you reply, she notices that you got straight to the point like you do when you’re upset.

“Okay, detka. Thanks for cooking,” she says. You only nod in response and Natasha’s worry for you deepens. But she doesn’t push right now.

You two eat dinner together and you hardly participate in the conversation. That doesn’t get past Natasha. As you are about to wash the dishes, Natasha reaches for your hand to softly stop you.

“Y/n, hey, look at me,” Natasha says.

You know if you look at her then you might burst into tears at the gentle look you instinctually know she is wearing on her face right now. But Natasha’s fingers softly turn your face to look at her.

“Are you okay?” she asks you in perhaps the kindest voice ever.

“It’s just-” you start getting choked up, “it’s just one of those days.”

In lieu of responding, Natasha pulls you into her strong embrace. It’s her silent way of telling you it’s okay to let go and feel what you need to feel. You and Natasha have always had a way of speaking to each other without even needing words.

It’s like the songs that say that you can hear the love in the silence. By the grip of her arms around you, you feel all the love you have ever needed, that you’ve ever wanted.

“Thank you, Natasha,” you whisper through tears.

“I’m here for you, detka. Always,” Nat replies, her voice thick with tears of her own. She continues to hold you for as long as you need. Natasha always lets you pull away first.

“I think I’m going to shower and get ready for bed,” you tell her once you’ve let her go.

“Alright, babe. I’m going to go for a quick run, but I’ll be back before you go to bed, okay?”

“Okay. See you soon,” you say.

Natasha kisses your lips softly before you head off to the bathroom, but she isn’t going for a run. She grabs her keys and hustles to her car. Nat drives to the local grocery store that is still open later at night. When she gets there, she makes a mental list of your favorite things to get you and she’s in and out quickly.

As promised, Natasha is there before you go to bed. When you come out of the bathroom, she is standing by your bed with a bouquet of flowers. And you feel like crying again at her sweetness.

“Are those-”

“Just like the one’s I got you for our first date,” she interrupts you. “You were already so important to me then. I thought I might remind you of that. I also got you some snacks and bought one of those silly romcoms you like,” Nat explains.

You walk to her and hold her tight. She returns the hug just as intensely.

“I love you, Natasha. How do you always know exactly how to make me feel better?”

“I love you too, y/n. I’m glad you’re feeling better. I’d do anything for you, my love,” she says. And you know she means it. “Do you want to watch the movie or?”

“Is it okay if we just call it a night?” you ask.

“Of course,” she replies.

And so, the two of you climb into bed and Natasha wraps her arms around you again. She is your home, your comfort, your safe space, and your favorite person in the world.

Tag List: @gracebutnotgraceful @i-wished-for-you-too @idkwhygregg @romanoffscottage @be-missed @likefirenrain @hehehehannahthings @mythosphere-x @readings-stuff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @madamevirgo @milfloverslut @yelenabelovaisthebettersister @mrswidowjohansson @alotofpockets @wandassitcom @ggrangerdanger @marvelwomen-simp @maia-lightwoood @mortallytremendoussandwich @xxromanoffxx @peanutbutterprincess @karmasgxrl @picnicmic @wandaslittlewhore @exhaustedfangirl @when-wolves-howl @natashalovers @marie45019 @inluvwithfictionalwomen @sammi1642 @itsyourgirlmalise @jujuu23 @the-night-owl-blr @blackwidow-3 @strangegardentaco @avatarsnips @romanoffswoman @natashasilverfox @imthenatynat @natasha-danvers @sayah13 @harleysincairo @rach2602 @cordyandbilliehavemyheart

#natasha romanoff x reader #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff comfort #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff

[dearhannahwithlove]

i feel strange coming back here after so long. it feels like i have betrayed you, somehow, by not writing to you as often as i used to. i think about you everyday. i know love and grief is not measured by its' suffering, and that life will and must go on, and i know that you would understand that. but there's a part of me that recognises just how much life has just gone on since you died. almost a year now. my life, myself, feel almost entirely unrecognisable from what it all was before you died. i find it almost impossible to talk to any of the people i used to know. it doesn't even feel like a choice. like something heavy in me, just cannot find it in me to text them anymore. i started taking T, too. it is weird to transition in a timeline you're not in. i miss telling you about the small details of my life- i was too tired to cook, so i ate toast for dinner. i changed my room around and then changed it back, i like the bed aganist the wall, turns out. i keep trying to go on dates with this girl, but she is a lot like you and that scares me. i need a haircut.

grandad's gone now, too. sometimes i am afraid i can't reach out to any of the grief. like there is some kind of block between it and me. when you died, i would feel a kind of nausea constantly. i would listen to the songs we used to love. i would fall asleep to videos of you. i would find it strange if i went even a day without crying.

now, and after losing grandad, life feels somewhat robotic sometimes. i wake up to the same alarm, i get changed, i go to work. i listen to music so i don't have to think. i worry about how much i stretch away from feeling. i worry i don't make stuff often. i come home, i eat. i watch tv with my flatmates. it hits me in strange moments. i am washing the dishes and i think, oh my god, i am just never going to see hannah again. i am hanging up the washing and i think, i should call grandad. and then it hits me.

there is this tumblr ask i think of that says, "how do you process grief?"

and the response says, "by running from it until it finds me in the middle of a sunny street on a beautiful day."

and i think it is like that. and i don't. it hits me on a thursday evening. i am alone, and it might be beautiful outside, if i let it be. i think, maybe i can sit with this. so i pull out my watercolours. and i write some. and i listen to our songs. and it feels like my chest is being split open. and it feels like nothing will ever be okay again. and it won't, in some ways. and it will.

in the first few months, i thought the world could never be beautiful again, and i didn't want it to be, and it felt like a kind of betrayal not to cry. and now i have this strange feeling of knowing there is beauty, despite your absence. it makes me angry sometimes. how the light still dapples. how the coffee is still hot. how the ivy growing outside my window curls and flowers. but i know i cannot exist in a world without this beauty.

i don't know what to do on the day. i remember it both viscerally, and hardly at all. i remember feeling a panic, like this was some kind of big mistake. i remember expecting to hear that this was all some mix up. and i remember somehow knowing too, you were really gone.

i feel like i fumble about in the world now. i want to lean into love, and it makes me anxious. i want to love as big as you did. i feel like i can't hold a candle to it.

it's hit me, on a thursday evening. it isn't sunny, but the sky is blue. i guess i can't run forever. if i am honest with myself, i don't want to.

[rottingfontanels]

24 june 2022

1

good morning. it's currently quarter past 10am, and i just finished my morning routine. it's a pretty small routine– i get up, brush my teeth, take my meds, wash my face, moisturize my face, and put on lip balm. then i'm all set to do whatever!

the past few days have been a bit difficult. i had three or four really amazing days, and then as soon as i got home to rest, i spiraled and ended up in a depressive episode. my routines were out the window. it reminded me a lot of when i was in high school, but this time around is a lot better even if it's still not good.

even though my mental health has been rough, yesterday i did some good things. my dog woke me up at 6am, so i got up and made sure she had everything she needed. since i was already up i had a bowl of cheerios. this is pretty big for me, since i hardly ever eat breakfast and have an overall bad relationship with eating. then i went back upstairs to relax and at some point ended up dozing off. i'm pretty sure the previous night i had gone to bed at around 1 or 2am, so napping after waking up at 6 makes sense. i woke up from my nap around 2pm, pretty upset that i wasted the day.

so i decided to un-waste it! i got dressed and went on a walk. there's a really lovely place near my house with lots of greenery, bugs, and wild animals. i walked around there and went to my favorite spot: a tree overlooking the marsh. i sat under the tree for a while, got bitten by a caterpillar twice i think, and then climbed the tree to read my book. it was really nice!

i even had some good creative ideas!! i'm currently writing and sketching out some stuff, and even thinking about rewriting this thing that i'm into that wasn't made in a text medium. i would take quite a few creative liberties and overall try to make it into a genuine book-level story. worldbuilding, setting those rules, et cetera. it would be really fun... but the first thing that comes to mind is how fast i would be to abandon it.

anyway, after my walk i got home, talked on discord a bit, drew, and then made dinner! i made kraft mac n cheese. it didn't taste very good, but i was super hungry so i ate a lot of it anyway. usually in my house, whoever cooks a meal for everyone doesn't have to do the dishes. my mom ate with me. maybe it was selfish, but i kind of expected her to do the cleanup afterwards. all that was left was the strainer, wooden spoon, and pot with the leftovers. but when i went downstairs to lock up around midnight the pot was still on the stove with the leftovers in it. i felt really sad about that. it feels like a waste of food.

i know this is bad of me, but i didn't put the leftovers away then either. i just went upstairs and went to bed. i haven't been downstairs yet this morning to see if the pot and leftovers have been put away.

i also had a really vivid dream last night! my dreams are hard to describe but i'll try to lay it out in a way that makes sense...

so initially it took place in this big skyscraper-like building in a downtown area. i think it was supposed to be some kind of summer camp, but the camp counselors were exploiting the kids who were sent to the camp (i was one of the kids). instead of activities, we were forced to stand at standing desks with computers, handcuffed, and draw the counselors' characters for some kind of promotional thing. all of us were struggling with drawing. we were hungry and tired and scared. the counselors were really, really scary.

at one point, i was looking around the different keys on the keyboard and pressed f1. the building's alarm went off. the f1 key must have been linked to the alarm system, and immediately i was utterly devastated. i don't think i've ever felt such helpless fear as that moment. i knew that once we were all evacuated and the counselors found out it was a false alarm, they would find whoever tripped the alarm and punish them. i don't remember what exactly i thought would happen, but i know it would hurt, and that i might even die.

as we made our way down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk right beside a main road, i was having a meltdown. i sat down on the pavement, wailed and screamed, and scraped my bare feet against the concrete until i had ground away the bottoms of my heels. i was bleeding now. i knew i was going to die. i had to do something. i was already going to die, so i decided screw it.

there were cars going by on the main road. i threw myself onto the curb, waving my bound hands and screaming for help. most of the cars kept driving, but one stopped. i tried to tell them everything– how we're trapped, they're hurting us, this isn't a summer camp, everything. but i was so frantic that i couldn't articulate it very well. the worst part was that even though the counselors are terrifying and mean and hurt us, they never left bruises. i had no physical evidence of their wrongdoings. my bloodied feet were concerning, but i had done that to myself.

the car drove away. i think two more cars stopped and i tried to tell them as well, but with the same results. finally the counselors rounded everybody up, including me. the dream goes blank at this point– i assume we were all taken back inside.

that was the main part of the dream. after that, the scenery changed to a huge building in the woods. all the kids were still in a bad situation. my feet were bandaged, but for some reason only my left foot was ground down at the heel. i walked with a limp. i think i also wore a long off-white dress, something very plain and simple. i think i was tasked with helping the younger children. i think i might have been a girl at this point.

some strange things happened, all warped by the dream. i escaped. my point of view started switching back and forth. at this point i think it's too confusing to explain, so i'll end the recounting there. that was my dream last night.

when i woke up, my eyes still closed, i genuinely thought that i would open my eyes and find myself in a twin-sized bed in a massive room filled with other beds with the other kids. i thought i was there. it was kind of scary, actually. i'm glad that i'm here now.

what's my plan for today?

i'd love to go on another walk, climb that tree again and read my book. but i really need to do laundry. i think that as soon as i post this, i'll gather up dark clothes and do that load first. then once that's washing i can tidy up the kitchen if it's not clean already. we don't have bread to make toast– i'll have some tea instead. then i can carry on from there. i should brush my dog too.

i'll mention now that i haven't proofread this entry. probably silly since this is the very first entry, but i'm not in that mood. i'm in the mood to dump out all my thoughts and feelings and be done with it. consider it organic!

okay, i should go now. bye, i'll see you soon!

[shiningstarlight]

.

#rant once again sjxjsjs #TW: eating disorders #just to be sure #ignore if you prefer but I just need to let it out... I am about to cry because I am so nervous and emotionally drained #I just need to let it out #so I am living in this fucking hell #and other people think it’s okay to cook from 1 to 5 pm every single day apparently #and not ever wash their dishes so I hardly ever have stuff to cook with or SPACE to cook because they do not clean #and... tbh I am starting to go crazy #not being able to eat at normal times is... destroying me ngl #my recovery is ✈️✈️✈️ going downhill and I hate that so much #I know it’s my problem but also it shouldn’t be normal that I am forced to eat LUNCH at 5 pm #seeing the time my mind goes straight to ‘oh it’s late so just have a snack you can’t have lunch anyway’ #I can’t wait for them to go away #anygays hope you’re all good 😔🌸

[majestyeverlasting]

Hi! Can you write prompts 17 & 49 with Bucky x reader, please? Any Bucky you want!

♡ Hello! Thank you so much for sending this request in! I decided to go with dad Bucky since I haven't written for him in a little bit. Which means you guys get to see Jamie (8) and Eden (7), who are in my other dad Bucky stories. This fic in particular happens to be pretty classic in the sense that it follows a relaxed morning. But of course I had to add my own special touches. It's very intimate and cute, and the Barnes family ends up making breakfast together. By the end, Bucky and the reader share a soft moment in which they realize how fortunate they are. Enjoy!

♡ Prompt 17: “Oh, so you are ticklish.”

♡ Prompt 49: “I’ve never noticed these freckles on your back.”

Mornings Like These

Saturday morning brought the sweet sound of laughter to your bedroom, genuine and carefree. It was distant at first, flowing from wherever the children were. There was hardly any light streaming into the room, which meant the sky outside was likely a dusty blue with hints of pink as the sun continued to rise. Surely others were still wrapped in the embrace of sleep.

With a soft sigh, you moved closer to Bucky and nuzzled into the warmth of his chest. A hum rose from his throat when your lips puckered to his skin in a featherlight kiss.

But it wasn't long before the most gentle series of knocks sounded from the other side of the door. Almost rhythmic. Whispers and giggles emerged shortly after. Bucky’s chest shook with a chuckle as a smile budded across your face.

“They’re such early birds,” you murmured, kissing his skin a couple more times, lazily. “Maybe they’ll go away if we don’t say anything,” you joked lightheartedly.

His voice was deeper from sleep when he drawled, “Knowing them, they’d come in regardless.” You laughed into him at those words, and more knocks arose.

“Come in!” You eventually called out.

As soon as Jamie and Eden peeked into the room, neither you nor Bucky could deny that it felt good to see their faces—despite how early it was. They wore toothy, loving smiles as they walked to the foot of the bed, still clad in their adorable pajamas. Neither crawled up to join you two, but they placed their hands on the mattress as if they were considering.

“Morning,” Bucky greeted through a stifled yawn.

“G’morning,” they said in unison.

“How’d you guys sleep?” You asked.

“Good,” Jamie chirped.

“Yeah, good,” Eden seconded. “We have an idea.” She then looked to her brother for him to continue.

“We were thinking that today would be a good day for all of us to make breakfast together. We haven’t done it in a while, and I think it’d be really fun.” There was a hopeful sparkle in his eyes. “So maybe that’s something we can do when everyone’s more awake.” He ran a hand through his hair. It was getting longer.

His words rang true—it had been a while. “You know what, I like that idea,” you said.

Bucky smiled. “Me too.”

That’s when they finally climbed up into the bed, uttering exclamations of excitement. They wriggled their small bodies between you and Bucky, and all you could do was allow your heart to feel full. The room seemed all the brighter with them in it, you realized. And the sweet laughter that once danced somewhere off in hallways had found its way to you.

That same energy is what later brought the kitchen to life as the four of you moved throughout it to bring breakfast into fruition.

The scent of turkey bacon lingered in the air as cooked in the oven. It mingled with the scent of the eggs you stood scrambling at the stovetop. Bucky was at the counter cutting different fruits. Jamie and Eden were in charge of toasting the waffles. As they waited for them to pop, they switched between standing at you and Bucky’s sides.

A smile came to your face when Jamie wrapped an arm around your waist and released a content sigh. “You wanna stir them around a bit?” You offered, running a hand through his hair. “They’re almost done.” It was endearing how gladly took the small spatula from you. It was as if he was proud to.

Every day, he was slipping further away from the little boy you used to coddle in your arms. He was helpful, reserved, and kind—so much of what you saw in Bucky in many regards. And Eden was blossoming into her own personality as well, always managing to shift whatever room she entered.

She happened to be over near Bucky, ushering pieces of the strawberries he was cutting into her mouth. With a fond shake of his head, he let her. However, the dramatic way she hummed in approval of the taste made him roll his eyes.

Then she wandered around to stand behind him, ever curious and in pursuit of something new. “Daddy, I’ve never noticed these freckles on your back,” she said, reaching up to poke where they were on his shoulder blade. Bucky made a sound of acknowledgment but remained focussed on cutting.

It became evident that she was trying to get a reaction out of him when she giggled and kept poking him. That’s when he shot a quick look back at her. She quickly folded her hands to make it appear as though she hadn’t been doing anything.

Nevertheless, Bucky tapped her nose. “Quit it,” he said. She continued as soon as his back faced her again. The whole exchange made you smile.

He turned around and pointed a finger at her. “Don’t make the tickle monster get you, sunshine.”

“Too bad I’m not ticklish anymore,” she claimed as confidently she could manage. It was a harmless lie tinged with amusement. As he looked down into her eyes, he was reminded of yours.

“Is that right?” Bucky swiftly scooped her up with his vibranium arm, and all it took was a couple of pinches to her sides to have her squirming and trying to push his hand away.

“Okay!” She squealed. “That tickles, that tickles!”

“Oh, so you are ticklish?” He relented and pressed a kiss to her temple as residual giggles left her. “Who would’ve thought?” She gave him a playful pout when he set her back down, but it didn’t last for long.

Because soon enough, it was time for everything and one to be gathered at the kitchen table. There was sunlight coating the room and the food smelled divine. For a moment, the chatter that once existed subsided as everyone took the first few bites. Upon glancing around, you were struck with a rush of joy. You could feel it kindling within your chest. Bucky caught your gaze from across the table and winked.

You weren’t sure how yet, but you were going to make sure that more mornings like that came to be.

“We should do this more often,” Jamie said as if reading your mind.

“We will,” Bucky promised.

You nodded. “We most definitely will.”

With that, the four of you continued eating and talking, and it seemed as though it’d go on forever. But it didn’t. Plates were cleaned, final stories were told, and last-minute jokes were uttered. And you felt full not because of the food, but because of how happy each of them made you.

When you found yourself washing dishes at the sink, the entirety of the morning was on repeat in your mind.

Bucky came up behind you and kissed your neck in a way that made you want to melt. The scratch of his beard sent shivers swirling down your spine. You could feel him smile against your skin as his arms secured around his waist. The kids’ voices carried from where they’d retreated to in the playroom. Neither of you said anything to each other, he simply held you as you moved to clean the last of the dishes.

Bucky was the first to speak, voice filled with honest consideration, “Sometimes I think I have a grasp on how fortunate I am. But then mornings like these come along and I’m convinced I don’t even know the half of it.” He let his chin rest on your shoulder.

“You and me both,” you breathed.

-

Thanks for reading! More fluffy Bucky stuff here.

#bucky barnes #bucky fluff #dad bucky #dad!bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #winter soldier #tfaws bucky #marvel #marvel fic

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

Hearth

(dabi) t.todoroki / reader

genre: prohero!touya, fluff

warning(s)!!: cursing ofc, dabi's atittude/snark, he's still dabi- just not a villain lol, he doesn't have his burns just his piercings, bloody piercings/lip

synposis: touya comes home with a bloody lip and three missing nose piercings, you get the honor of cleaning him up and getting him to bed for a well-deserved rest

w.count: 2.4k (probably the shortest thing i've written in years and no that's not a joke)

-x-x-x-

“Shit, that stings,” Touya hissed to himself as he felt around the bloody and bruised right nostril of his nose where three small piercings should have been. He hissed as he quickly took his fingers away from the small holes missing their jewelry. “I can’t wear nothing around here, damn.”

The commotion around him was hardly his focus when his nose stung so much, not even his split lip bothered him when he licked over it- too focused on his poor nose. It was pitiful really, getting into a scrap with a low-level thug trying to run off with a duffel full of loose bills from some random convenient store. He was fine overall, not being too unfamiliar with fistfights without having to use his quirk, but the thug sure did a number on him when he grabbed at his face- probably aiming to yank on his hair, but falling short- and somehow ripping all three of his studs from his nose.

Blood dripped in small drops off the side of his nostril and from inside his nose, creating a slow stream to his top lip which entered his mouth- filling it with the metallic taste of his blood. His pierced tongue’s metal bar tasted nothing like the iron of blood and he shook his head in distaste.

He sniffed and palmed gently at his minor wound before the cops showed up and wrapped up the situation. They offered to have his injuries cleaned up at the station- but he was so close to being finished with patrol and heading back home he didn’t bother. It wasn’t like he was in any sort of critical pain, he just wanted to rip his nose off.

His patrolling went smoothly after that, the small scuffle being the highlight of his evening and as he walked, bored back to the agency he was working at with his father (begrudgingly), he changed and slung his duffel with his gear and suit inside over his shoulder. He’d leave all this stuff in the changing room locker with his name on it and a secure lock- but you had insisted he bring it home tonight so it all could be tuned up and cleaned properly. You were a stickler about that.

Touya damn near broke into a run, mad-dashing it to the door, when he heard his father behind him call out his name when he was so, so close to the agency doors. As far as he was concerned, he was done for the day.

D o n e.

Endeavor could suck it.

He wasn’t sure how far he ran before he deemed it safe enough to slow his strides, but then the chills set it. He wasn’t cold- even if it was the middle of winter- all thanks to the cold resistance he inherited from his mother winter wasn't really ever that cold to him. If anything the sweater and joggers he wore were almost too warm with his swift escape from work.

He stopped at the corner of the sidewalk, waiting for the traffic lights to signal he could safely cross the road and have the right to sue if someone were to hit him, and looked up at the grey clouds. It looked like it was due to snow again and he chuckled to himself at mentally picturing you shiver just at the mere thought of more snow. Lowing his chin back down to look ahead, his pace quickened, already more than ready to be home.

“Hey, babe! I’m back!” Touya called into the house. The difference in temperature made him shiver- even if again, he wasn’t truly cold in the first place. Heeling off his shoes and setting them on the shoe rack, he walked inside.

“I’m in the kitchen!” You called back. He chuckled to himself as he walked into the living room first, dropping off his hero-filled duffle on the couch, and then swiveled on his heel to head into the kitchen. As he passed under the doorway, he grabbed the bottom of his sweater, pulling it up over his head and completely off as it rested on his forearms- shaking out his white hair.

You looked over your shoulder at the movement and immediately went back to whatever it was you were doing. Shaking your head in small shakes with a quiet sigh.

“Do you really need to undress in the kitchen?”

“What?” He smirked, tossing the sweater on a barstool as he basically pranced his way to your side, slinging one arm around your waist loosely with the other coming to mess with the soapy water you were currently washing dishes in. He picked up a finger-load of suds and flicked them at you, making you try and crush his toes under your heels- to which you failed. “It’s hot in here.”

“That is probably the lamest excuse you've ever used to strip,” you teased as you kept doing your thing. Looking around the counter, he saw take-out containers. Before he could question them, you started talking again. “I really didn’t want to cook today, so I ordered in. I hope that's fine.” Touya shrugged.

He wouldn't want to come home after a day of work and cook either, so it worked for him.

Detaching from you, he danced over to the containers he knew were his and took them to the island where he slid into the barstool his sweater was on and sat down on it. As you finished up, you turned to finally take a proper look at your boyfriend after his day. Your eyebrows furrowed as your eyes narrowed.

Was that dried blood under his nose? And was his lip split?

“Touya?”

“Whuat,” he muttered with a trail of noodles hanging from his lips between chopsticks, muffling his voice. Ever the mannerless fool.

“Do we wanna talk about the blood on your face?”

He swallowed his bite as he started scrapping around for more noodles and fewer vegetables in his container. “No, not really.”

You rolled your eyes as you left the kitchen and him to his food. Digging around in the bathroom, you tossed a few things in a small basket and went back to the kitchen where he had successfully separated all his greens from his food and set them aside. You sat on the stool next to him as he finished.

“You know it’s not good for you if you don’t eat your vegetables.”

“Oh, boo-hoo. I ain’t eatin’ ‘em.” You spun to face him as you grabbed his knee and spun his stool to face you in turn. In your basket of bathroom items were things to clean up his face.

You took his chin in your hand and twisted his jaw back and forth to look for any other injuries. “I ain’t all that banged up. Just this,” he told you with a huff. Looking at his chest and shoulders and stomach- it seemed he was telling the truth. There were no other injuries.

You would hate to see the poor guy he got into it with if all Touya had was a split lip and... all three missing piercings? You hadn't actually noticed his piercings were completely gone.

“How in the world did you lose your piercings?”

“Some prick tore them out. Got pretty into it with ‘em over it.”

“Of course you did,” you rolled your eyes again as you emptied your basket and grabbed a cotton ball between the prongs of a pair of tweezers, and coated it in saline. “Look down,” you told him as his chin dipped to your instruction and you began to clean his piercing holes. You saw his lips twitch in a silent hiss as you cleaned them as gently as possible.

Touya didn’t move from your touch at all aside from a wince here or there. When you pulled back to clean the blood on his lip and skin, he kept as still as he could as he just looked down at you. Watching you work with your eyes focused and brows pulled in concentration always made him want to laugh at how cute you looked. You were a wonder to him.

A wonder on how he managed to snag you as his own.

When you finished, you were throwing your stuff back into the basket to take back into the bathroom when you felt a weight on your shoulder. Glancing without moving your head, you caught in the corner of your vision Touya’s nest of white hair brushing your cheek and chin. His forehead rested on your shoulder as you relaxed, your boney shoulder couldn’t be comfortable to lay on.

“You’ll want to leave any new piercing out of your nose for a bit.”

“Hmm,” he gave you a small hum, but you weren’t sure if he actually heard you or was just responding to respond. He had a bad habit of hearing but not exactly listening.

Moving your head as slowly as possible to not disturb whatever moment he was trying to create with you, you saw the digital numbers on the stove showing close to midnight. While it was rare to get a quiet and soft moment with Touya, you knew he couldn’t sit with his ass on a barstool and his head on your shoulder all night. He had to shower and get changed for bed where he can sleep on a comfortable mattress.

You rotated your arm causing his forehead to push further into you, sliding to where it rested against your neck, and his cheek pushed into your shoulder instead. You reached around and rubbed his back to which he hummed at- pleased with the touch. His skin was always so warm, it almost made you envious with each shiver you would get from the chilled winter air.

“Touya,” you softly called to not drill a nail into the peace of the kitchen. He said nothing. He didn’t even hum at you, but you knew he was listening. “We have to get up. You need a shower and sleep.”

“Can’t we stay like this a while longer?” You almost gave in but looked at the clock again. As far as you knew, he had to go back to work tomorrow so he needed to get into bed asap. It pulled at your heart, but you couldn't let him stay up any later than necessary.

“No, we can’t,” you let him down easily with a soft voice and with your hand still trailing up and down along his spine. “Come on,” you shrug, “up.”

He groaned as he sat up and slid from his stool, you doing the same as you grabbed your basket of things to put back in the bathroom. Touya followed you as he rubbed at his neck and silently let out a yawn he tried hiding from you just so he couldn’t avoid admitting you were right and that he needed to go to sleep.

As you were putting things back where they belonged, Dabi had opened the door of the wide, standing, glass shower and turned the water on- waiting for the temperature to be perfect. He looked over his shoulder, seeing you putting back the saline behind the mirror in the medicine cabinet. He took the chance when the mirror was away from him and you to sneak up behind you, the running shower water masking his footsteps.

He slowly reached around your head, shutting the cabinet as the mirror swung back to face you, Touya behind you. He dropped his arm over your shoulder and lowered his head to kiss the back of yours, his other arm wrapping lazily over your chest.

“Shower with me,” he cooed, dying his voice in honey to get you to join him without a fight. When you agreed, the shit-eating grin he had on his stupid face made you want to pull on his bottom lip and reopen the split in it or maybe force open his mouth and rip out the bar in his tongue.

He always got what he wanted and it was so not fair.

After promising no funny business in the shower, getting out, drying off, and getting ready for bed, Touya was insistent that the thermostat be turned down to 68F which was absolutely not going to happen. That was way too cold for the middle of the night in the middle of winter! He may be a walking space heater, but you weren’t.

Except, when you crawled into bed, you puffed and pouted because of course he always got his way. The temperature in the dark house was a chilly 68F and you were bundled in blankets- sulking.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” he laughed as he yanked the blanket that was tucked around you away to slither his way beside you instead. As he tangled his legs with yours he was immediately pulling you closer to him by the back of your knees. One of his arms under your head to curl his wrist inward to scratch the back of your head and the other around your side to rub your back. You suddenly understood.

He just wanted to lay as close as possible to you and not verbally say it. You tried containing your small laughter at his attempt at being coy.

“What?” He groaned as he shut his eyes, trying to get sleep to come to him. You dug your face into his neck, which he happily accepted as he pushed his cheek against your forehead in return.

“Nothing,” you told him.

“Just go to sleep.”

When the next morning rolled around and Touya’s phone had begun to ring for the fourth time, you had pried his arm off you and looked over his shoulder. The screen was showing his father calling him and as you rubbed your eyes and reached over to answer it for him- since he slept like a log- your wrist was caught and you were shoved back down into his chest.

Touya, who had been awake for some time now, was well aware he was exceptionally late to the agency and no he was in no rush to get there any time soon. The old man can call all he wants- he wasn’t going in just yet. There was a reason the old man was the only member of his family to not know his address.

Endeavor can still suck it.

-x-x-x-

a/n: for some reason the image of prohero touya coming home to just coze with his partner after another day just popped in my brain and has been relentlessly curb-stomping me into an early grave

#dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #touya x reader #dabi fluff #bnha #boku no hero academia #dabi au #prohero dabi #prohero touya #au #bnha au #my hero academia #touya fluff

[saintshigaraki]

the sun has not yet fallen

pairing: bakugou katsuki x gn!reader

word count: 2.2k 

excerpt: You look back towards the setting sun just once. You don’t really know why. Perhaps to find some bravery in the beauty of it, to steal yourself a few extra seconds of this limbo you’ve found yourself in. Where everything is hazy and beautiful and hurts so bad you can hardly breathe.

a/n: me: i hate angst

       also me: writes this fic

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, sometimes love requires work 

in case you want to read it on ao3!

Katsuki is in a bad mood. He was uncharacteristically quiet when he walked through the door which is more often than not a sign he was trying his damndest to hold back saying something just a bit too cruel. And you appreciate the effort, truly you do. 

On any other day, you would’ve let him be to work through his shit alone. He usually does that by cooking up something far too elaborate for a weekday night, and then after decompressing for a bit, he tends to slink back into whichever room you’re in and lay his head on your lap so you can work your fingers through his hair. 

You’ve found over the last two years that that is what tends to work best. Giving him space and letting him come to you.  

But today you’re feeling just as raw as he does. You can’t remember the last time you spent quality time together. You can’t remember the last time he didn’t go to bed so exhausted he was out before his head hit the pillow. You can’t remember the last time you didn’t feel this heavy cloud hanging over your head. You can’t remember a moment where there wasn't a timer counting down and down and down while you do nothing but wait for it to hit zero. You’re not quite sure what will happen when your time is up.

It’s selfish, probably, to want to be with him right now when you know he’s so weary, but you won’t even bother him, is what you tell yourself. You just want to be around him for an hour (or two) you want to stand so close to him you can smell the ever clinging scent of caramel and help him with dinner and think of brighter days. Better days. 

(You want things to go back to the way they were before. You want to cling to him, just for a short while, stuff your face into the crook of his neck while he tells you everything’s okay. That you guys are okay.

But that’s for another day. It has to be.

How many times have you told yourself that?)

You follow him as he stomps towards the kitchen. 

He aggressively grabs the ingredients for whatever he’s making and slams them on the counter, grumbling under his breath the whole time. You stand in the doorway worrying your hands, feeling awkward, and hating that you feel awkward in your own kitchen with your own boyfriend. 

It makes that awful nagging voice in your head grow just a bit louder. 

You approach him slowly while he sets up a pot filled with water and turns on the stove. He’s still grumbling to himself by the time you place your hand softly on his forearm. 

He jerks away immediately and narrows his eyes. You viciously stamp down exactly how awful that makes you feel. How small and unloved. 

“What do you want?” he says bluntly (and a little cruelly but a part of you says just ignore it, maybe if you close your eyes and cover your ears you can pretend that everything is fine, that you guys are fine) . 

That was part of his charm when you two first started dating. You loved that he was blunt, that he got to the point, there was really no guessing what Katsuki was thinking because he’d simply tell you and if it were any other day perhaps his words wouldn’t have bothered you as much as they did now. 

And it’s partly your fault, or maybe even mostly. Because you let it get this bad. You could have told him something was bothering you, that lately, you’ve been feeling a little insecure in this relationship. Katsuki was blunt but very rarely if ever cruel with you or your feelings. He would’ve understood, probably. 

But anytime you thought about broaching the subject with him, he always looked so, so tired. Bone tired. And you thought maybe it was selfish, to want him to comfort you over something this dumb. Over something as frivolous as this. He just needs time. 

(How much time, you wonder. How much more can you take? you ask yourself.)

“Are you fucking braindead or something,” he snaps, dragging you out of your spiraling. 

“I was just wondering if I could help. It’d be nice to cook dinner together.” We use to do it all the time, you almost say. Now you can’t even remember the last time you did. 

“You’re a shit cook,” he says. 

It’s true, and on another day, a brighter day maybe, you would’ve laughed. Or at least smiled. Because it was true. You are an awful cook, a shit one, as he so eloquently put it, especially compared to him. But that never mattered to Katsuki before. 

He always let you cook with him, always wanted you to cook with him, even if the majority of the time you ended up sitting on the counter swinging your legs and watching him do all the work. 

To be fair, afterward, you always cleaned the dishes. It was a lovely, simplistic give and take, one you wish you had again so, so dearly. 

“Yeah, I am,” you agree. You try to smile, but it feels forced. You’re tired, you realize, bone tired. 

You don’t say anything else and he turns away. You know that’s technically a dismissal but you elect to ignore and start unwrapping the vegetables. 

Just as you reach for a knife he grabs your wrist. 

“What the fuck is up with you right now?” he grounds out. 

“I just want to spend some time with you.” 

Your voice sounds frail, even to your own ears. 

And before he even opens his mouth you know what he’s about to say is going to bring all this to a head. And from the look on his face and the awful, gnawing in your gut, you know you’re not going to like it. You know that more likely than not, it’s going to break your heart. 

(A part of you can’t help but wonder if maybe your heart has already been broken. That it’s made up of haphazardly glued together pieces. Perhaps that’s why you feel so fragile. Perhaps the damage is done and you’ve just been waiting for Katsu to bring down the axe. To scatter the pieces. To finish the fucking job.)

“God,” he spits out. And it’s like a dam has been broken and every hateful thing he’s ever thought about you can’t help but come pouring out.  

“You’re so fucking needy, you can’t do a fucking thing by yourself. It’s like all you ever do is breathe down my fucking neck and tell me everything I’m not doing for you.” Distantly, you wonder if that’s true. It might be. Maybe it’s that ugly selfishness you’ve never really been able to hide. You thought you’d done a better job of tucking it away. You were wrong, it seems. 

“So I can’t spend every single fucking second of every single day with you, sue me. I’ve got my own shit to deal with, my own problems, or have you forgotten that I have a life outside of you?”

No, you think. I haven’t. Or maybe you have. You’re not really focusing so hard on his words. You tune them out as much as you can. You’re staring at his face, taking in all the details. The deep red of his eyes, the pale blond of his hair, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the slope of his neck, the little scars peppering his face. You used to sit on his lap and kiss each and every one, no matter how faint. 

You’re so weird, he’d say as you did it, but the tightness of his arms around you always spoke a different story. 

You’re going to miss that, you think. Holding him. Loving him. 

It takes you a while to realize he’s still yelling. It’s all hateful and cruel and so sharp. Like he’s taken a knife to your skin to flay you open, exposing every crack, every vein, every shattered piece of heart that makes you. You let it wash over you, like a particularly violent ocean wave.  

“Sometimes,” he says, his voice finally quieting to a bearable level, “I wonder why I’m still with you.” 

The breath you let out is shaky. No matter how ready you thought you were, there’s simply no amount of time that prepares you to hear those words from him. From the person you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with. From the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. 

The silence between you two is deafening. And heavy. So heavy it feels as though your chest will cave in from the pressure. 

“Yeah,” you say at last, though you have to force the words around the burning iron poker in your throat. And then you laugh, you can’t help it. It’s all so fucked. You hate that it’s come to this bitter monstrous ugliness. 

When had this all started to fester, to rot? you wonder. Is this really all that’s left?

“I can’t help but wonder the same thing.” It comes out more bitter than you'd like. A small jab to try to even out the gaping wound he’s torn open in you. 

But it’s also true. 

You can’t see his reaction through the tears clouding your vision. You don’t really want to anyway. What’s done is done. What’s said is said. 

You grab your phone and keys and walk through the front door, closing it softly behind you. 

He doesn’t say a word.

You think if there was any part of your heart left unbroken, his silence has shattered it to oblivion. 

+

You walk for an hour or two. Until the sun has dipped almost completely below the horizon and it’s surrounded by hazy blood-red waves. 

It’s a good place to think. To set your jumbled thoughts in order. 

It takes a special kind of selflessness to love a hero, you realize. A type you don’t possess, not even nearly. You’ve always been just a little selfish when it came to love. But there’s no room for that when with people like Bakugou Katsuki. 

And that’s okay, you tell yourself. 

It’s a lie. It’s not okay. And the hollow aching in your chest that beats in time with your heart agrees. 

You look down at your phone. 

33 missed calls from Katsu 

You look back towards the setting sun just once. You don’t really know why. Perhaps to find some bravery in the beauty of it, to steal yourself a few extra seconds of this limbo you’ve found yourself in. Where everything is hazy and beautiful and hurts so bad you can hardly breathe. 

It’s not long before you’re biting the inside of your cheek, turning on your heels, and heading home. 

+

You don’t even have your keys fully out of your pocket before the door swings open, with Katuski on the other side looking a bit worse for wear, though you doubt you’re one to talk. 

His eyes are bloodshot and his nose is a bit pink. He’s been crying. You can’t remember the last time you saw him cry. 

(That’s a lie, you realize. You had gotten in the crosshairs of a particularly brutal villain versus hero showdown. The resulting injuries you suffered were severe. You’d apparently been a bit touch and go for a while. When you opened your eyes for the first time after everything, Katsu was right there, looking like hadn’t slept, showered, or eaten for days. Later you found out it’s because he hadn’t left your bedside since you returned from surgery. 

Katsu, you’d croaked out weakly, stretching out a shaking hand toward his face. 

He broke down into sobs so violent they wracked his whole body. It took him over an hour to calm down.)

You got about half a foot through the door before he threw himself at you. Wrapping his arms around you so tight it bordered on painful. He sinks down to the floor. You sink with him. 

He’s sobbing into your shoulder repeating a mantra of, I’m so sorry and I didn’t mean it. Please, please. I didn’t mean it. 

You think about that old saying. What a person says in anger is how they really feel. You don’t necessarily believe that. You yourself have said things out of anger that you in no way meant, that were purely thrown to hurt the person on the other end. 

You want to believe he didn’t mean it, more than anything you do. Because you love him. Because you really do think that Katsu is it for you. That he’s always been it for you. 

You pull away about as far as he’ll let you. 

“Do you love me, Katsuki?” 

The words hang in the air. You feel raw. Like you’re the one who has taken a knife to your own skin and flayed it all open for him. 

You don’t quite know vulnerability until you ask someone if they love you. It’s a different sort of weakness. 

“Yes,” he responds. His voice rough from his tears. “More than anything.”

You watch one last tear fall from his eye.

You hold his face in your hands and wipe it away. Softly. Gently. Lovingly. 

+

You guys are not okay and now that you’ve accepted that you think there’s a chance that one day, you will be. 

#bakugou x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #vicwritesbnha #bnha imagine #mha imagine #i’m thinking a shinsou hitoshi fluff drabble next 👀 #vicwrites

[workofthediesel]

GreaseDinah fic? If you don't mind, if you don't want to it's fine

fic requests are open! send me an ask!

Greaseball frowned at the plates sitting on the counter in front of him. He glanced at the recipe, studying the picture accompanying it, then looked at his own work again.

His frown deepened. His looked nothing like the perfect, mouthwatering meal in the picture. That food had obviously been prepared by a professional chef and expertly arranged in the photograph to show off every delectable detail, whereas Greaseball’s…

He poked around one of the plates skeptically. Burnt in some places, mushy in others; a thin, liquidy sauce puddled on the bottom of the plate, soaking into everything.

Greaseball sighed. He had only wanted to do something nice for Dinah. After all, their anniversary was coming up. They’d been together for—he quickly counted on his fingers—three years now, and she deserved something special. His plan had been to surprise her with a fancy, homemade dinner like she was always doing for him, but it seemed like the only surprises she’d get tonight would be a messy kitchen and a take out order on the way.

Dejected, Greaseball began gathering up the dirty pots and pans and stacking them in the sink. He was only about halfway finished by the time he ran out of room. He was sure Dinah never used this much stuff when she cooked, and she made things much more complicated than the meal he’d tried to make.

She made it look so easy, gliding around the kitchen like some sort of magical being, hardly ever even needing to look at a recipe. She could make even the trickiest dishes effortlessly. If only Greaseball knew how she did it.

With nothing else to do, he began piling dirty dishes on the counter. He should probably start washing them—he didn’t want the kitchen to be a complete disaster when Dinah got home.

Almost as soon as he thought that, he heard the front door open. “Greaseball?” Dinah’s voice drifted in from the hall.

“In here.”

Dinah poked her head into the kitchen, her eyes going wide as she took in the scene. “What’s all this?”

Greaseball rubbed the back of his neck. Embarrassment was climbing up his spine and he hoped the heat rising to his cheeks wasn’t a visible blush. “I, uh…” he cleared his throat. Tried again. “I was just trying to cook dinner.”

“Really?”

Greaseball nodded.

“Aw, Greaseball!” Dinah cooed. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Dinah, no,” Greaseball said, pulling himself out of her embrace as gently as he could. What he made wasn’t something she should be appreciative of. “It’s not good.” He didn’t want to get her hopes up just so she could be more disappointed when she actually saw what he’d done.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

Greaseball shook his head. With shame clogging his throat, he held out the plates to show Dinah.

For a second, Dinah froze. She recovered quickly, but that one moment was all that Greaseball needed to know that it truly was awful. Dinah, of course, wasn’t going to say that to his face. “Look at that!” she gushed. “You did such a good job.”

“No, I didn’t.” Greaseball dropped the plates back down onto the counter with a look of disgust. “You don’t have to lie. I know it didn’t come out right.”

Dinah paused like she was debating whether or not to keep up the lie, but eventually she conceded, “Maybe not, but this is your first time cooking, right? No one ever gets things perfect the first time they do them.”

“Yeah, but I wanted it to be perfect,” Greaseball said. “It was supposed to be a surprise for our anniversary.”

“Oh, Greaseball!” Dinah cooed again, her voice taking on an even higher pitch. She trapped him in another hug, and this time, Greaseball let her. “That’s so sweet!”

“Not if it didn’t work, it’s not.”

Dinah pulled back a bit so she could give him a genuine smile. She trailed her hands down his arms so she could take each of his hands in one of hers and give them a gentle squeeze. “It’s the thought that counts.”

That particular sentiment never made sense to Greaseball. How could making dinner for Dinah make her happy if he failed to actually make dinner? But it seemed important to her, so he didn’t try to argue.

Dinah glanced down at the plates with a thoughtful expression. “You know,” she said, “it really isn’t bad for a first try. And our anniversary isn’t for another couple of days.”

“So?”

“So, what if we try again? We can pick out a recipe and make it together. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know…” Greaseball said. It did sound nice—it would be a pleasant way to spend the evening, side by side with his partner, and if Dinah was involved in making it, the food was sure to be delicious. But… “I wanted to do something nice for you. You’re always cooking. I wanted to give you a night off.”

Dinah gave him a fond smile. “I’m always cooking because I like it. And I’d like it even more if I got to do it with you.”

The sentiment made Greaseball’s heart flutter and he couldn’t help but return her smile. “Yeah, okay,” he said before leaning down to give her a light kiss. “I’d like that, too.”

#starlight express #stex #stex fanfic #greaseball the diesel #dinah the dining car #greasedinah #greaseball #dinah #sweet-dining-car

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 3

First

Previous

Next

It was a good thing that Master Fu was giving them a month to get used to each other before he was going to make them start posting, because Chloe doubted any of them would give a convincing performance if they were supposed to start acting as friends.

It’s almost like suddenly shoving five people into a confined space and saying ‘play nice’ caused tensions. Who knew?

They were, for the most part, avoiding each other.

After all, even before the whole ordeal, their best relationships with each other were tense. Ladybug had something against Chat, Carapace didn’t see eye to eye with Ladybug, and everyone definitely hated Chloe.

The only person who didn’t seem to be mad at anyone was Rena… but she was also relatively new, and Chloe was pretty sure everyone agreed with her when she said that Rena was annoying.

Chloe walked into the kitchen and fought back a wince when she saw Rena at the table eating cereal. She turned around as slowly as possible. Maybe she wouldn’t notice her, she was on her phone after all --.

“Chloe!”

Dang.

Chloe turned back around and tried for a smile, exhausted as she was. The worst part of all of this was that none of them could properly express their grievances without fear of someone being akumatized.

“I have some questions for you!”

She was still going to be super passive-aggressive, though.

“Again? Didn’t you get enough information the first few times?”

“Nope! Every answer just gives me more questions.”

She supposed she should just be glad that she wasn’t currently in costume. Her wings tended to buzz when she was annoyed and she doubted Rena could take any of them being angry with her.

“Okay. Go ahead, I’ll answer while I make myself food,” said Chloe.

Rena started questioning her about her powers. Luckily they just seemed to be the basics of her powers (Do all bees listen to her or only worker bees? Does she need to eat a lot of honey to create honey in battle? How do her wings carry her if, by all known laws of aviation, there is no way --?). Sure, they were awkward questions to answer because she only had theories, but the words ‘I don’t know’ seemed to satiate Rena just as much as proper answers.

She saw people shuffling in to make food and take it back to their rooms as quietly as they could while Rena was distracted with Chloe. She sent them glares out of the corner of her eyes but she didn’t call out to them or anything. This was a consequence of her own screw up, she would have to be the one to deal with it.

So, she drizzled honey on her cheerios and resigned herself to answering more questions.

~

Know what? Even if this is the direct result of her own mistake, she was allowed to complain.

And complain she would.

These people are the worst.

You already know why Rena was annoying to live with. Her constant questions gave Chloe no peace outside of her room.

And, inside her room, she had to deal with listening to Ladybug working on… something above her at all hours. Did Ladybug sleep? Signs point to no. Chloe wished that Master Fu hadn’t let her convert the attic into a room, it was very clear at this point that the people who made the house had not expected people to live in the attic. For some reason.

Chat Noir was… a cat. He slept almost the entire day and left things everywhere in the few hours he was awake. (Chloe understood that he likely had a maid back at his house, she wasn’t used to not having her normal butler around herself, but even she was better about picking up after herself.)

The only slightly tolerable one was Carapace. He spent most of his time hiding out in his room, studying.

Chloe had considered getting a job to get away.

(She wouldn’t actually get one, obviously, that was peasant stuff. Still, the fact that she even briefly thought about it is proof enough of the stress she was under.)

Beyond that, chores were just… not getting done. Have you ever seen a cat do something it was told to? Seen a turtle do anything at all? No? Chloe hadn’t seen that, either. The two bathrooms were a mess of different products. The washing machine was constantly in use because people kept forgetting that they were the last person to put anything in. She was beginning to forget whether or not the floors were carpeted she hadn’t seen them in so long…

(The only things that got done were the garbage and dishes, and only because no one wanted the house to smell. Chloe wasn’t sure who did them. Chloe also didn’t care as long as it wasn’t her.)

So, yes, things were not looking good. The only reason no one got akumatized during that first week was that everyone was working to stay calm.

Eventually, they adapted like all humans -- or partial humans, because at this point she was pretty sure everyone was at least a little bit their animals -- do when put in a new situation.

Chat, after getting a single pimple because he couldn’t find one of his skincare treatments in the mess, ended up cleaning the bathrooms. It was here that the girls realized that some of the products in their own bathroom were, in fact, Chat’s products, but they were fine with it because now they didn’t have to bother cleaning.

Rena took up the rest of the cleaning. Apparently even the five of them were less messy than her younger siblings were. Whatever she found that had been there for days that wasn’t hers was thrown into Chat’s room -- which ended with a lot of things going ‘missing’ but it was better than finding stuff everywhere.

Ladybug ended up doing laundry. It seemed that Ladybug had some kind of knowledge about clothes (maybe it had something to do with the job she apparently had?), because they found that their clothes were completely devoid of wrinkles and that the colors were bright even after a few washes. They weren’t going to question it.

After seeing Chloe and Chat’s spending habits, Carapace had decided that he would be the one to go to the grocers. It may be Master Fu’s money, but apparently he couldn’t handle the idea of spending that much more than they needed.

And Chloe? Chloe did nothing.

Just kidding. She tended to all of the plants in and outside the house. She rather liked gardening, she thought, but she figured that it was just a side-effect of the bee miraculous. Either way, it led to the group having fresh herbs and vegetables on hand for cooking.

Hardly anyone cooked, but still. It’s the thought that counts... or something.

~

Chloe had finished her gardening for the day and now she looked at the sign up sheet for patrols.

She huffed a little when she saw that Chat had signed up for the night. Again.

She walked to Chat’s room to ask him to just let her have patrols tonight or at least take her with him.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes when she opened the door and found him curled up in a tiny patch of sunlight, asleep.

Wait… asleep…

She smiled at her kwami. Pollen never talked -- and she was pretty sure she’d never heard any of the others’ talk either -- but that didn’t mean that Chloe couldn’t tell that Pollen was disapproving of what Chloe was thinking.

“Oh, shut up --.” The kwami frowned and Chloe gave a little huff. “I didn’t mean -- whatever. Sorry. Buzz on.”

Chloe flew over to where Chat was sleeping and considered him for a minute. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep…

Well, who was she to disturb that peace?

She picked up his phone and turned off the alarm to wake him up for patrols. A finger pointed at him, she mumbled the embarrassing call for her powers (“Don’twakeupdon’twakeup ‘Sticky Situation’ stayasleeeeep -- nice.”) and smiled when he was almost instantly coated with honey. She hardened the honey around him to make sure he was properly stuck.

(The honey stopped at his shoulders, a good distance away from his face and hair -- she was pretty sure he’d kill her if she did that and, with his power, that wouldn’t be hard.)

She stepped back and admired her handiwork. 

She loved her power.

She snapped a picture and left the room.

Chloe hummed as she flew down the stairs to the main room. She crossed Chat’s name off of the list and replaced it with her own.

She made her way over to the couch and laid across it on her stomach to wait for patrols to start. She scrolled through TikTok absently, looking for ideas on what to do…

“WAIT WHAT’S GOING ON --?!” She heard Chat’s voice yell, confused, but it cut itself off. There was a beat and she heard him yell again: “PLAGG, CLAWS OUT! CATACLYSM!”

Ah. Dang. She’d been hoping that she’d already be gone when he woke up...

“CHLOE! WHAT THE HECK?!”

Did he really need to figure out it was her so quickly? Sure, she was the only one that could use honey, but come on!

She looked back at her phone for the time.

One more hour…

She saw Chat’s red face at the top of the stairs and tensed.

Well, there really is no harm in going early.

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @mialuvscats @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen

#a miraculous tiktok account #chloe bourgeois #queen bee #rena rouge #alya cesaire #adrien agreste #chat noir #miraculous team #rewriting miraculous #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #nino lahiffe #carapace #chloenette #chlonette #adrino

[ohshitmomitsawritingblog]

Aight my friend I'm here to give you your first post I got you For the Alphabet Soup: Obito, Madara, Deidara, Kakashi, Zetsu, Kisame, Sasori. You ofc do not need to do all, just given some variety; pick and choose, also choose whatever letters you want, my brain can't comprehend so many letters rn Have fun ily

Puca bless u this first post is gonna be a Fat One Folks

Deidara

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Deidara wants to do new stuff all the time, full stop. He’s perpetually uncomfortable with a distinct routine, which he’d consider being stagnant. With his S/O, he’d be down to do anything once - maybe the one bit of consistency in their relationship is his need to be around his partner on a pretty regular basis.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

He thinks complaining to his partner is a good excuse to tell them about his day.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Surprisingly pretty understanding! I’ve always seen Deidara as being incredibly independent and assumes others feel similarly, so it’s not like he’ll ever be overly dotting, but he will be considerate. In pain? Go lay down. Need help with something? He’ll lend a hand. That being said, he can be a little egotistical so while he anticipates his partners physical needs often, he can be apt to not check in with them emotionally and sometimes doesn’t consider their views on things. Youth, ya know?

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

‘Hey, you!’

Lmao, he’s a little rude and not the type for being publically sweet to his S/O - in fact I think he’d see it as a kind of weakness or source of embarrassment - so he’d probably come off as a little gruff when addressing them, as if subconsciously compensating for how sweet he really is on them.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Decent. He’s not overly passionate, but he gives surprisingly comforting kisses. But. There’s a learning curve. His first kiss with his S/O involved a lot of knocking of noses and clacking teeth. He takes their face by the chin when he kisses.

Kakashi

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Kakashi probably likes his S/O because they’re tenacious and on the ball in terms of their own goals - of course he 100% supports them doing their own thing, and he deeply believes that they’ll achieve whatever they set their mind to. So much so that it doesn’t cross his mind that they could fail.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Their name. Kakashi nearly passed out reading very innocent phrases from Icha Icha, I think he’d actually choke on his own tongue if he even attempted calling his S/O something like ‘dear’ for like. Years. That’s reserved for the bedroom. 😌

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Reading! Exploring the village! I get the impression that Kakashi and his S/O are partial to late night dinner and drinks with friends - especially on cool, smokey nights. Going to obscure bookshops is a big second, and I can see Kakashi enjoying quiet, laid back art scenes - that giant ass painting in his apartment speaks of a taste for impressionist scenery. I feel like Kakashi likes washing the dishes or cooking dinner with his S/O best! They talk about their days, or they just enjoy the silence of working together.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Sitting next to them. Existing in the same space. If his partner is the type to clearly need physical affection during a crisis, I can see Kakashi being the type to sit next to them and press his shoulder to their’s, or to rub small circles on their back. If they’re crying or are generally on the shorter side, he’ll press his mouth and nose into their hair. It’s his way of telling them ‘I see you, and I’m not turning your pain away’.

Furthermore, Kakashi struggles with himself and what his needs as a person are, and isn’t sure how to relate to his partner beyond being a solider or comrade, and desperately doesn’t want to invalidate his S/O’s feelings, as his own have in the past. He also has no idea what to say, other than going off his his own desperate attempts to make sense of his grief, anxiety, and sadness, but often feels like that doesn’t cut it. The pain may, at the root, be similar, but his S/O’s suffering his their own, so he tries not to say anything at all. I think he especially deeply reflects his S/Os feelings when they’re feeling hurt or sad and it shows in those small physical cues.

To quote Cole from Dragon Age: his hurt touches their’s.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Yes. Yes. Yes. Kakashi kisses are electrifying - he’s so soft and sweet but so intense. Lots of pecks are his style versus one long kiss. When he first kisses his S/O, it’s almost a little sad, though they can’t place why at the time. He cups his S/O’s face in his hands when he kisses them.

Kisame

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Hiking! Swimming! I feel like Kisame would be the type to like to distance himself from civilization during his scant bits and pieces of free time, and would genuinely enjoy the experience nature would offer, any time of year. When he feels restless, I could see him wondering away from his campsite and just exploring the area. Alternatively, I can see him enjoying the stillness of it all. I can see him enjoying a deserted stretch of beach with his S/O, not a soul around but them, watching the spring grey clouds or the washed out blue waves and just taking it all in. Very zen.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Kisame makes it a policy to have zero secrets from his S/O. He doesn’t, by nature, have a taste for lying, but his work and duty have dictated that he lie or, at best, stretch the truth more times than he can count over the years, and now he despises. If it can be destroyed by the truth, it deserves to be destroyed. That being said, Kisame is human, and I think there are things he’s done that he elects not to volunteer unless directly asked.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Kisame understands his partner and their needs well - I don’t think he rushes into relationships (in fact I think he shies away from anything more than casual interactions more often than not) and I don’t think he wouldn’t take his time truly understanding how his partner ticks. He doesn’t pry, but Kisame is a good spy and a smart man and he observes what his S/O says and does (and reads between those lines) on a consistent basis.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

If Kisame’s partner is female, I feel like he definitely calls her by ‘woman’ affectionately. He’s a little old fashioned like that and I can picture him growing up around adults who referred to their own partners like that. Kisame is one of those men who expresses his affection for his partner through the way he speaks (low pitched voice, soft and just loud enough for you to hear, for instance) versus what he says, so nicknames aren’t really his thing.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

He kisses tenderly, and is kind of stiff - but the more he does it, the more he falls in step with his partner and their likes and dislikes. Not good or bad. The first kiss with his S/O was a simple press of their lips, nothing super passionate, and a little awkward.

Sasori

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Absolutely does not like his routine messed with, and, presumably, neither would his partner. Sasori seems like one of those people who are absolutely adverse to any kind of change and isn’t too thrilled with the idea of ‘spicing things up’. He’s there, he’s present, that’s enough right?

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

One of the simplest, most profound expressions of love for Sasori is acts of service - particularly putting a blanket over his partner if they fall asleep without any covers. He’ll never admit it, though.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

That’s a big ol’ no from me dawg. Sasori is just set in his ways and kind of a prick when it comes to anything messing with his plans and how he views the world. If his S/O did slowly influence or help him overcome anything though, I think it would be his consistent rejection of intimate relationships. Like, Sasori has spies, Sasori has informants, Sasori has Akatsuki teammates and associates, but hardly any of them see his ‘true form’ and even less actually like him. He’s a hard man - whose hard on others - who very ruthlessly destroyed his relationship with his sole living relative AND single handedly threw his birthplace into chaos by murdering the third Kazekage.

For him to even toy with the idea of having an S/O, he’d have to really, REALLY like them. He’d have to put aside a lot of subconscious fears and complexes and decide, at the vert least, that he wants them. That’s a huge change, for him, and not one he can fully commit to 24/7. Basically, his S/O changes him before they even get together. Good luck trying to squeeze anything else out of him.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

‘Woman’/‘brat’/‘boy’. Sasori is kind of a dick and he definitely means it as half a put down, half letting anyone in the vacinity know who his S/O belongs to.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Noooope. Sasori doesn’t do affection well, isn’t super inclined to kisses even when he has a human body, and as a puppet, he’s kind of stiff. The first kiss with his S/O is a quick press of the lips to the head or temples - not much of a kiss at all, but for Sasori, it means a lot.

Madara

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Have you watched Naruto?

Yes. Absolutely. Madara has lost so much, and when he connects with someone enough to presumably fall in love with them and pursue a relationship, it’s for the long haul. Madara’s love means Madara’s protection means Madara’s almost obsessive worrying he hides under twenty layers of coo cool, smooth boyfriend material. Worst case scenario, Madara will kill a man for his S/O, and won’t feel bad about it. Worser case scenario, he’d endeavor to create a false dream world where there’s no strife, war, or death, and no choice. ☺️

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Physical activities! Hunting, rock climbing, falconry, hell, even cleaning - i can see Madara’s idea of a relaxing time being cleaning out a shed or re-organizing his office! Presumably his S/O would either be similarly inclined or would indulge him. It does need done after all! There’s something about these all consuming, mentally stimulating activities that i can see Madara truly enjoying. He’d come out feeling refreshed. When feeling less adventurous, or maybe even, gasp, lazy, I can see Madara and his S/O playing board games, practicing calligraphy together, or painting.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

In a long term relationship? Madara definitely sees a future where his S/O is Lady or Lord of the house, deeply involved with clan matters, and maybe, if they’re wanting and capable, with some kids running around. Keep in mind I imagine large families were common amongst the Uchiha pre-Konoha merge, so his idea of ‘some’ probably means five at the least. He has no real expectations of how his S/O would orchestrate themselves - beyond well, that is. He likes them for them, and doesn’t deign to even toy with the idea of putting them in a box, even in his head. The bottom line is: they’re together, and they’re strong together, and the world they build together is sturdier than the one they came into.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

 A repeat question, but on the more emotional side: I think Madara, for the longest time, genuinely wishes for a future in which he and his S/O live quietly, and well. It’s in that bittersweet way though, the way someone wishes when they don’t necessarily think it’ll ever come true.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Not well. Madara is naturally inclined to pinning and has some intense separation anxiety - which no one would ever know because he’d rather die than show just how much he misses his S/O. Madara, paraphrasing John Mulany, stuffs all his feelings deep deep deep down, and he plans to die like that. He just doesn’t cope, and the longer they’re apart the grumpier he gets. He pouts when alone, almost - but not quite - spaces out during meals, and busies himself with the finer details of cleaning equipment. Anything to shake the creeping dread that digs up his spine. Around his S/O’s return, he presses kisses to the nap of his S/O’s neck, just at their hairline, when they’re finally alone; if still around people, Madara has a habit of watching their neck and mouth, but says nothing that gives himself away.

Obito

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Going under the assumption that he has an S/O during the canon timeline? It’s not the sweetest confession in the world. He’s very to the point: his S/O is his. I can’t ever see him saying the world love, even if his body language expresses it loud and clear. He’ll run his fingers over their cheeks, press his forehead to their’s, and his stare? His stare could peel wallpaper, kill, and undress his S/O all at the same time. He’s just real intense and tongue tied at the same time.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

As a kid? Obito is painfully obvious. As an adult with all the maladjusted neurosis boiling under that hood of his? It’s not at all obvious. Obito is a busy man, what with the stirring of many pots and scheming and LARPing as Tobi, local terrorist cell’s local idiot. If he does show his love for his S/O, it’s like a leaking faucet; he doesn’t mean to touch their hand with the back of his, but he does it anyway. He doesn’t mean to look at them as they retreat from a meeting, but he does. It’s the little, tender things that hemorrhage from his cold half dead little heart.

Bonus: if this is a post ‘canon’ au where Obito lives and is the weird, kind of unstable, under house arrest for international dream crimes uncle of the Boruto gen, I can see him being much more open. Super clingy - prone to mood swings where he can become his old, cold self, but that’s just the package deal - a little pouty, and incredibly sweet on his S/O. He’s all hugs when they gets home, his hand pressed firmly to their lower back as they walk the village (probably breaking all kinds of rules in the process) and way more inclined to agree with you or go along with your plans. Everyone knows he’s his S/O’s man because he’s proud and loud about it.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Their relationship is deeply important to Obito. I would say in terms of importance, only the moon’s eye plan trumps his S/O - how he reconciles with these two deeply potentially conflicting facts? He doesn’t. He just assumes they’re on board. Other than that, he will put his partner above everything and everyone else, with an emphasis on their physical safety.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Dominate, even in a post-canon-I’m-alive! AU. Obito has an unhealthy relationship with control, and while he’s not one to want to dominate his S/O’s will, he would almost expect his S/O to follow his lead.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Very very romantic and cliche, although Obito reigns in his more dreamy impulses (flowers or picnics, stuff he daydreamed about as a kid) well. His direct displays of affection or ‘dates’ are few and far in between, and very lowkey. He’ll bring his S/O something he’ll know they like - a string of dried flowers grown only in a particular a temple from the land of Fire, a polished, perfectly oval turquoise rock from the land of Wind. He’ll mail them to his S/O or, more likely, leave these little gifts in places he knows they’ll find them. His idea of a good time, of a happy time with his S/O, is quiet nights where plans and identities are put aside, and they can rest or talk about nothing or go for a simple walk. His biggest daydream he still toys with as an adult is getting caught in the rain and kissing his S/O while they’re both soaked.

Zetsu

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Well Zetsu is an alien prince(?), and a plant, and generally kind of weird. That being said, I think he’s very upfront about his S/O and their relationship! There’s definitely a gap in time where he talks nonstop about his S/O and uses any chance to bring them up. Obito toys with the idea of offing them just to get him to shut up. In terms of kissing or physical affection in front of others though? He’s a nervous wreck/directly dismisses the idea.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Honestly, I feel like his S/O would have to confess to him, rather than the other way around. They casually mention liking him, he scoffs, only for them to insist, and it ends with a very vaguely embarrassed plant ‘accepting’ their feelings.

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

What can you do with a plant man? Probably spying, or exploring various places - he isn’t particularly in awe of nature like Kisame, but he likes the quiet and having his S/O all to himself. I can see him liking cards, too.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

‘Babe’ comes to mind - he doesn’t quite get the whole ‘affectionate nickname’ thing humans do, but he likes the sound of babe in particular.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Nope! Zetsu is just happy to have his S/O present, even if they’re presumably just another human who eventually will be swept away in his mother’s plans. He still loves them, and he’s willing to do whatever they’d like in the time they have together.

#obito uchiha #sasori #kakashi hatake #madara uchiha #kisame #zetsu #naruto imagines #obito x reader #sasori x reader #kakashi x oc #madara x reader #kisame x reader #deidara x reader #deidara #zetsu x reAder #fluff alphabet

[angeltrapz]

hey dude 💚 sorry yr having a shit night too— chainshipping ask tho! I’m always down to head more thoughts abt just. things they do to make th other person smile. but also favorite things to do together? not necessarily Big Activities but the lil domestic stuff (like cooking, maybe chores they do together, etc) that’s just better bc they’re Both doing it

Yeah it was a. rough one kdjks... ty <33

I'm always game to talk abt things they do to make the other smile!! One I think about all the time is the simple act of getting things for each other? Maybe sometimes before they even realize they want said thing, or that they need said thing. As you've mentioned b4 I do think Adam has one of those lavender-scented stuffed animals that you can put in the microwave (I have!! the celebration bear one, who naturally is named Lawrence bc he's blue... and uh... I associate teddy bears. w him) and sometimes, when Adam is doing poorly and has gone nonverbal, Lawrence will just be like "Oh! I know what might help!” so he’ll grab the husky from the bedroom (got Rlly attached to that idea when you mentioned it <33) and pop it in the microwave for a minute, rounding back to the couch to hand Adam one of his shirts to snuggle in and a kiss on the forehead. When he gets Adam’s husky from the microwave and hands it to him, Adam just kinda has a moment like oh... I didn’t even have to ask... and he smiles, for the first time that day, and honestly? It rlly does help, to have someone who knows what might comfort you/knows what types of things do, and who just. Does those things when you need them, sometimes without prompt. It’s an intimate kind of knowledge, and it makes Adam feel all warm on the inside.

Another good example of this is Adam making sure Lawrence has his cane while he's walking around the apartment, esp those first few months when he's just getting used to using it - because he's still learning + trying to get used to walking with his (properly fitted) prosthetic, he often left the cane in random places because Adam would often offer his arm if Lawrence needed it (which, again, took some time for him to be okay with, but Adam always tells him it's okay to need help sometimes), and it would frustrate him because he'd be sitting on the couch like "I. I don't know where I put it." but Adam will be like "It's okay, I know where it is!" and it's as simple as that! Lawrence can't help but smile when Adam hands it to him because Adam just. He gets how hard it is. It's so simple to Adam but to Lawrence it means a whole lot. <3

Something else is that Lawrence will remind him to eat. I've touched on this a little bit b4, but Adam has issues with food that extend past textures and tastes and such - his eating is very disordered, and has been since childhood. He doesn't eat three meals a day, sometimes he hardly eats anything at all (usually the bare minimum that will allow him to take his medications without getting sick), he tends to gravitate towards snacks/easy foods that aren't necessarily super healthy, and combined with him already being underweight + having spent the last seven or eight years since leaving his parents' place at 18 getting by on very little, it causes him frequent dizzy spells/fainting episodes. It also takes him a while to realize that hey, I don't have to spread my meals out anymore, I don't have to worry about getting food, and I don't have to feel guilty about eating when I'm hungry. I think Lawrence is a very observant person by nature, and while he might not understand it fully right away, I think he'd definitely realize that some of these issues are tied to the state of the apartment he'd seen only once + Adam's life from before.

So he doesn't force him to eat, obviously, because that doesn't work and helps no one, but he will definitely be like "Hey, I know you're not feeling great today, but why don't I grab you a granola bar or something? We have those oranges you like too. I just want to make sure you don't give yourself a headache or get sick." and admittedly Adam is. Not used to that kind of regard whatsoever. But it feels so much easier to at least eat something small when he knows Lawrence sees him, understands that it's hard and isn't forcing anything out of him. I do think that once they settle into a routine after moving in together, some of that becomes a little bit easier because hey, he's not living paycheck to paycheck, he doesn't have to survive off of ramen and monster energy, he's allowed to eat and not worry about what happens after. The stress of worrying about groceries is definitely nonexistent with Lawrence, and that takes so much weight off of Adam's shoulders; not to embtion the fact that Lawrence is also conscious about his same foods, and makes sure they've always got some in the kitchen. It's not easy, but having someone care about him so much, someone who wants to make sure he's eating right and caring about him like that always makes Adam smile a little bit.

For Lawrence, I think a big thing is just like... seeing Adam hanging out with Diana? There's nothing that will put a smile on his face faster than coming home from work to find the two of them in the living room, a Disney movie (or The Princess Bride!) playing in the background while Diana paints Adam's nails bright glittery blue and pink, because she wanted to practice patterns and she really likes the glitter. Her nails are already painted black with a glitter coat on top - "Adam's nails always look so pretty like that, and he said maybe I couldn't do full black, so he put glitter on them too!" - and he's sitting there, hand spread out on the coffee table while they both sit on the floor, talking about anything and everything that pops into Diana's head, and Lawrence just kind of stands there and watches for a little while. His two favourite people, relaxing together, enjoying each other's company. Adam turns around and Lawrence has always got this huge grin on his face, just like, "Oh, don't mind me. What was it you were talking about, Diana?" which of course prompts her to jump up to give him a huge hug, but after that she's right back to painting Adam's nails, and Lawrence is more than content to just sit in and listen. (He also absolutely adores finding Adam reading to her before bed, because he does voices and everything. He gets a little bit embarrassed about it at first, but once he sees Lawrence watching them with the most loving look he thinks he's ever seen, he just blushes, smiles back, and continues. Sometimes Lawrence joins in, but not always, because then it becomes a competition of voices and they'll never get Diana to bed if she's laughing too hard!!)

Another is that Adam is really good at pulling him out of his own head. He can usually tell when Lawrence is thinking way too hard about something, or when he's beating himself up for some perceived slight he feels he's somehow performed, or when something is bothering him and he's debating whether or not to bring it up for fear of bothering Adam. Often times he'll just sit beside him wherever he is, or lead him somewhere to sit down if they're standing, and he'll just guide Lawrence's head to rest on his chest and he'll just talk softly, making sure Lawrence isn't sitting in silence, knowing that Lawrence doesn't typically feel up to talking himself right away. He'll run his fingers through his hair and tell him about his day, or something he saw while scrolling through his phone/on TV, sometimes he'll read to him, basically just letting him know that hey, I'm right here, I know you're not doing great right now, and that's okay. I'm here for you. Lawrence cries sometimes when Adam does this, the relief of being held + feeling safe enough to express his emotions making it easier, but he smiles by the end of it because he knows how much Adam loves him + wants to make sure he's okay, and he knows that Adam isn't going to judge him. It's the safety of it all. <3

Favourite things to do together!!! Like you mentioned I like to think they do chores together! It’s just more fun that way. Again as you’ve mentioned b4, I think Adam has some difficulty with the dishes despite liking the repetitiveness of the task, both because of textures and because of his shaky hands - so what they do is Lawrence will wash the plates themselves and then hand them off to Adam, who will dry them and put them away/the strainer! They both find it helps a lot to just be around each other like this, listening to the radio above the stove and bumping hips, tapping their feet, sometimes humming along if they know the song well enough. It’s just a nice little routine. (Sometimes they dance in the kitchen after, and sometimes to the goofiest pop songs Adam has ever heard, but if you heard that, no you didn't.)

They like folding laundry together, too! That one is just because it's fun. Lawrence will toss him one or two of his shirts while they're warm because he knows Adam likes the feeling + stealing Lawrence's clothes, and every now and then Adam will throw a washcloth at him just 'cause he thinks it's funny (it is, especially bc Lawrence's gut response is to throw it back?? so they look like two dorks bc they're just throwing it back and forth???), and it's just a nice way to share space. Sometimes they get a bit too caught up in whatever is on TV (its on bc they both need background noise) and end up just sitting against the couch, two baskets of laundry on either side of them, and then eventually Adam will be like "Okay babe I think we should probably finish folding clothes now," and Lawrence will just groan like "I forgot that's what we were doing. Damn it." and they take a moment to laugh before they finish up. (Adam Loves hearing Lawrence swear bc he doesn't do it often, so even smth as simple as "damn it" cracks him up for a good minute lmao!!)

I do think they also enjoy cooking together!! Adam will hand him ingredients/assist in cutting vegetables/what have you; I think, for the most part, that Lawrence does the majority of the cooking, but Adam does help where he can! Sometimes he'll just hop up onto the counter and hand Lawrence things as he needs them, and Lawrence thanks him with either a squeeze to his hand or a kiss on the cheek, and Adam will joke about how he's basically just sitting there looking pretty, but he learns very quickly that Lawrence will just be like "Well, you DO look very pretty, so I think that's fine," and it ends with Adam red in the face but smiling into his hands anyway. The payoff is always a nice meal that they can sit down to together, and it's just such a peaceful, enjoyable thing for them to do together!!

Other than those three they'll take turns doing chores for each other - sweeping, dusting, tidying up the bathroom, things like that just to help each other out <3

#saw #adam #lawrence #asks #thank you so so much <33 #mood kind of bled into today too so this was nice to sit down n reply to!! #once again giving adam a lot of my food issues... im healthier now but it was bad for a while #I think abt them so much!!! many thoughts head full!! #hey the washcloth thing? I do that #its fun when yr w your friends hdjdmdkd #aaaa I loved answering this!! #long post #diana #FORGOT TO TAG MY GIRL im sorry diana

[capevans3000]

Love triangle - Part 3

Summary: You and Chris had always have feelings for each other, but were too afraid to let each other know. That was until Sebastian came along and a love triangle was quickly formed.

Featuring: Chris x Reader x Sebastian Stan

Warning: Just fluff stuff

Note: Hi everyone, here’s part 3 of the installment of Love Triangle! Hope you guys like this one! As usual, comments and feedback are super appreciated! Stay safe! <3

Gif not mine!

Part 1

Part 2

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The next morning you woke up to the smell of freshly cooked pancakes and maple syrup. Your stomach growled as you walked into the kitchen, passing Dodger on the way and giving him a morning pat. You bent down and started hugging Dodger and constantly calling him a good boy. Dodger’s tail wagged happily as he enjoyed your company.

“Someone In the house is really lucky to have all the attention.” You looked up and saw Sebastian in the hallway looking at you playing with Dodger. You laughed. “Someone in the house is really lucky to have such a handsome boy to give attention to.”

“Wait. Do you mean Dodger? Or me or Chris?” Sebastian joked.

 “Please. No one is as cute and handsome as this boy over here. Come here my handsome boy!” You called Dodger as his tail wagged faster and more excitedly.

“Ouch.” Sebastian feigned hurt and turned his back towards the kitchen. It was strange. Sebastian had only spent one evening with you, but somehow he felt so drawn and attracted to you. You were so different from other girls he had met. You were funny, extremely witty, and so uninhibited. You didn’t care if you didn’t have perfect make up on during the day, or that your hair was up in a messy bun when you were washing the dishes the night before. You looked beautiful in all that naturalness. You were so refreshing and genuine, and your personality was amazing. Sebastian had found himself almost instantly drawn to you, no matter how crazy and impossible that was.

“So, are you and Chris like, together?” Sebastian asked when the both of you were in the kitchen. He was adding the batter for another pancake he was making.

You stopped in your tracks when you heard that question. It was complicated and you didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Chris, but there were just some circumstances that were in the way. It was too early in the morning for you to discuss this with Sebastian so you replied him plainly. “We’re not together.” It was the truth, yet, with many underlying factors to that truth.

“I see.” Sebastian replied as he tossed the done pancake onto the plate. It was a quick answer, but you could almost hear a happy tone behind it. Before you could process further, you heard Chris’ footsteps approaching the kitchen. You smiled naturally as you prepared to greet him.

“Good morning Y/N.” He smiled brightly at you. You greeted him back with a smile on your face.

“And good morning to you, Seb. I see you’re making pancakes! I’m hungry.” Chris reached towards the plate to pinch the pancake with his fingers and popping it into his mouth like a little child.

“Use a fork, for God’s sake. No one wants your fingers on their pancakes!” Sebastian chided.

“Fine, you’re such a dad sometimes.” Chris laughed.

You offered to bring Dodger out for a walk around the park after breakfast. Because of the pandemic, it was socially responsible to wear a face mask when out, so that was an added anti-surveillance measure for you. It was harder to recognize people with their face mask on. You just hoped no one would recognize Dodger, who had become quite a celebrity himself.

When you came back thirty minutes later, you saw Chris working on his laptop in the living room while Sebastian was reading in the dining hall. You brought Dodger into the toilet to wash his paws, set out his morning snack for him and went to wash up yourself. You passed by Chris in the living room and waved at him. He looked up from his laptop and smiled at you. “Thank you for bringing Dodger for his walk. He’s been choosing you over me ever since you moved in and I can’t say I’m not hurt.” Chris laughed. “How was Dodger, was he a good boy?”

“The best.” You smiled. “I’m going to grab some tea, do you want some?”

“No I’m actually good. I just got some work to catch up on right now. Let’s hang out with Sebastian later when I am done?” Chris asked. You nodded and stood up. 

As you made your way towards the kitchen, you passed by Sebastian and saw the book he was reading. He was reading the book that you had been reading for the past few days.

You greeted him and asked him if he would like tea. Sebastian looked up from the book and nodded appreciatively. With two mugs of hot tea in hand, you sat down in front of Sebastian and pushed a mug towards him.

“I see you’re reading my book.”

“Oh sorry! I saw it on the coffee table and took it to read. Don’t worry, your bookmark is still safe where you left it. You can have it back.” Sebastian replied, closing the book and pushing it across the table to you.

“No worries. You can read it first. I have other books to busy myself with at the moment.” You smiled and took a small sip of the tea and pushed the book back to Sebastian. Unknowingly, you had spent about an hour chatting with Sebastian over tea about the books you’ve both read. The more Sebastian talked to you, the more his feelings for you became apparent to him. He knew he was beginning, if not already had, fallen heavily for you. There was just absolutely no possible logic needed to have feelings for you in such a short time. All those cheesy things he’d seen in movies about love at first sight was real, because, as illogical as it was, you’d become his love at first at sight.

The next thing you knew, Chris walked in to the dining room and greeted you and Sebastian with his hands on his tummy, gesturing that he was hungry. You were so engrossed in chatting with Sebastian that you hardly realized it was lunch time. Again, Sebastian had offered to make lunch for everyone.

“Are you having a good time hanging out with Sebastian?” Chris asked as he took the seat that Sebastian had just vacated.

“Yeah, in fact, yes. We talked about the books we both like.” You smiled.

“I’m glad you get along well with Sebastian. He’s one of my best friends and I’m glad you two hit it off.” Chris smiled genuinely. He wanted to tell you how much he appreciated that you and his best friend hit it off, because both you and Sebastian were two of the most important people in his life and it meant so much to him.

After lunch, Chris, Sebastian and you went ahead and did your own things in the house. Chris retreated to his study room to work on his laptop, while you and Sebastian each took a couch to read. Sebastian had decided to stay for another evening. “I’m quite lazy to drive. Mind if I stayed another night?” He’d asked during lunch. Only Sebastian knew it was a lie. He was looking for excuses to stay so he could spend more time with you.

That evening, Chris suggested to have dinner out in the deck instead. It was nice out and the weather was cool. Despite having planned to play a card game after dinner, Chris had to attend to a phone call so he left Sebastian and you out in the deck while he went back to the house to take the call. While waiting for Chris, you walked towards the ledge of the deck and took a deep breath of the cold air. You grew up in a very warm place, so you loved cool weather like this. You loved it, but your body was hardly able to withstand the frigid wind. The wind suddenly got stronger and you felt it beginning to bite your skin. From the corner of your eye, you saw Chris through the glass door gesturing to you and Sebastian that he needed a couple more minutes on the phone. He waved apologetically and disappeared into his study.

You turned back to admire the night sky, the stars now more evident than ever. It was a quiet night, only the humdrum sounds of crickets and the wind could be heard. You were about to turn back into the house to grab your sweater when you felt something warm on your shoulders. You turned your head and realised that Sebastian had taken off his jacket and placed them on you.

“Put this on, or you’ll catch a cold.” He said gently. You smiled and took his jacket gratefully. He helped you put on the jacket and made sure you were covered. The wind was coming towards you and you felt a chill. “How about you, then?” you asked Sebastian between shivers.

“My shirt is pretty thick, don’t worry.” Sebastian smiled.

You nodded your head and giggled to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” Sebastian asked quizzically.

“Nothing. I am just thinking, this is like a classic scene from a movie.”

Sebastian raised his eyebrows in question and you continued, “The guy offering the girl his jacket, and maybe the guy is indeed cold but he doesn’t want to admit it. Classic scene, no?” You chuckled.

Sebastian laughed with you. At that moment, Sebastian felt his heart tugged even further towards you. “Oh yeah? And what usually happens after the guy offers his jacket to the girl?”

“It depends. Is it a Rom-Com? An action movie? A thriller? It could spin into many different versions depending on the movie.” You pondered seriously, thinking back to all the movies you’d watched.

 “I think, the stars are really beautiful tonight, and this seems such a perfect moment for a dance in the movie.” Sebastian said and he put out his hands in front of him into a dance position. He nodded at you and gestured you to take his arms.

You were surprised at his gesture, but you felt comfortable enough with Sebastian. You let out a laugh and spontaneously reached out and took his arms. You were not much of a dancer but Sebastian was a good leader. He led you in a slow dance, his arms strong and safe to be in. He was such a good leader that even with your two left feet, you didn’t step on him or yourself once. Your eyes met, and his gaze was earnest. Never mind the fact that more than 48 hours ago, Sebastian didn’t even know you, yet now all he wanted was to freeze this particular moment in time and burn it in his memory. Mid-dance, Sebastian pulled you in an embrace so that your face was buried near his chest. Again, surprisingly, you felt comfortable and not at all awkward with Sebastian, despite dancing to nothing but only the sound of nature.

Sebastian closed his eyes as he embraced you. He wanted to savour every moment of this impromptu dance with you. His heart was pounding so hard with excitement and deep attraction for you, he wondered if you could feel it. It felt as if the stars above were aligned and everything in that moment was perfect.

He wished and wanted more than ever that he could kiss you on your lips, like the characters in the classic movies would. He wanted to kiss you so bad that it hurt. It was crazy, Sebastian thought to himself. He had never felt so attracted to someone in such a short span of time before that it scared him. He had never met someone as special and genuine as you before that he felt scared to lose you before he could even have you. In the most innocent way, Sebastian had found himself irrevocably fallen for you.

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#chris evans x reader #sebastian stan x reader #chris evans jealous #love triangle #chris evans fluff #sebastian stan fluff

[tsarisfanfiction]

Toffee: Chapter 3

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Gordon, Scott, John, Grandma, Tracy Family

Not quite such a long wait for the next instalment this time.  The next chapter of my response to @gumnut-logic‘s #irrelief prompt “toffee on the couch”, and the second of my three fic offerings for Thunderbirds Day, we have a little more scheming and Scott’s tale of woe continues.

<<<Chapter 2

The explosion of expletives from his eldest brother were clearly audible even from where Gordon was floating in the pool. It didn't take a genius to surmise that Scott had just discovered the toffee on the chair, and probably by sitting on it.

As far as pranks went, it was simple but effective. No-one had been in the room when Gordon had slipped the small chunk of toffee, warmed in the microwave under his watchful eye and Grandma's carefully blind one, onto the seat just after dumping his mud-lathered uniform off in Scott's despairing arms. Barring Grandma, none of the island residents had any idea that the toffee hadn't just slipped out of Scott's pocket earlier a la the first incident style, and both Grandma and their ever-watchful Eye in the Sky were firmly on his team. It had been John that had struck a conversation up with Alan to keep him out of the way, after all.

Grandma's voice carried clearly from the kitchen as she hollered up at Scott about minding his language. There was the vague threat of washing his mouth out with soap in there, and Gordon could well imagine the look on Scott's face as he called an apology back down.

He suspected Scott was already sick of soap. The washing machine had been a stroke of genius, even if he did say so himself. A little bit of toffee in Scott's jean pockets wasn't even suspicious, not when toffee in his pocket had been the start of it all. Add in an unaware Alan proving him the perfect alibi, and there was nothing to even suggest it wasn't an accident. Still, there was revenge and there was cruelty, and even Gordon had limits. Virgil would get the machine repaired by the end of the day, as long as no more rescues cropped up, and Gordon wasn't about to keep crippling it.

Scott wouldn't be the only one getting suspicious if it kept breaking, and he had no plans to get Virgil on his back, especially as his older brother was clearly annoyed about having to fix it the first time. If he realised it was intentional rather than accidental, well, that would probably be the end of a squid. No, Gordon had to keep things fluid, unsuspicious. Neither John nor Grandma were providing ideas, but as long as they kept providing the means and alibis (when an innocent Alan didn't do the job for him), he had a week to prank with his brother with no fear of retribution.

Scott's toffee stash would last a week, easily. Even if he turned to it as comfort food. Gordon hoped he did; it would be much easier to pull off his plan if Scott continued to eat the stuff. He had John on Scott-watch for that exact reason. True to form, John hadn't told him where the stash was, but he had suggested where a really good hiding place away from younger brothers might be, and sure enough, Gordon had found a whole mountain of the stuff there.

It was a literal mountain. Gordon had no idea how Scott's teeth hadn't all rotted yet. His ached just looking at it.

Above him, it sounded as though Grandma had gone to investigate the cause of Scott's language, because she was still berating him for it. As tempting as it was to go up and see the scene with his own eyes, Gordon had been a prankster long enough to know that returning to the scene of the crime automatically made him suspicious. Content that Grandma had it all in hand, he rolled over onto his front and continued his laps.

He eventually left his beloved water at a call for dinner. Reluctantly, of course – the call had come from Grandma, and just because she was helping him prank Scott didn't mean she'd suddenly become a competent cook. Unfortunately, the pool was right by the kitchen, and with his grandmother standing just under the eaves, there was no way for him to pretend he hadn't heard the call.

At least none of his other Earthbound brothers were escaping, either. John was invariably munching on some dehydrated just-add-water feast above their heads, and not for the first time Gordon thought it thoroughly unfair that he had the better deal. Dehydrated food was not supposed to be better than good old fashioned home cooking.

Maybe that was why Dad had spent so much time in space. Gordon could hardly blame him.

None of them even dared to hazard a guess at the name of the concoction on their plates, but with Grandma seated firmly at the foot of the table and watching them all closely, they had no choice but to tentatively take their first bites before simultaneously reaching for large mugs of their preferred drink.

Alan mumbled something uncomplimentary into his juice, and Grandma sent him a sharp look. Virgil chose that moment to speak, and Gordon knew the timing wasn't coincidental.

"I've got the washing machine fixed," he said, sending Scott a glare. "Don't break it again."

"I don't plan to," Scott groaned in response, throwing back his squash to get rid of the taste from his latest mouthful. "I'd like to see something other than laundry this week."

"Speaking of the laundry," Grandma interrupted. "I want that chair spotless, young man."

"What chair?" Alan asked, fixing their eldest brother with a suspicious stare when he groaned. "Is one of the chairs dirty again?"

"Some toffee appears to have found its way onto the desk chair," Grandma explained. "Your brother found it by sitting in it." Virgil stiffened.

"If that washing machine experiences another death by toffee, I am not fixing it," he threatened. Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked tired, not that Gordon blamed him after that hell of a rescue. They were all tired from trudging through mud and then cleaning it off of Thunderbird Two once they got home.

"I'll handwash them," he promised. "I have no idea how toffee even got there."

"You mean it didn't fall out of your pocket this time?" Alan chipped in.

"I didn't have any in my pocket for it to fall out, Alan," Scott defended himself. Alan shrugged as though that wasn't a factor that needed considering.

"You had some in your pocket yesterday, maybe it fell out then?"

Gordon watched a look of uncertainty flicker across Scott's face, before his shoulders slumped.

"I guess that's possible," he admitted.

"You're quiet, Gordo," Virgil commented, and he looked at him.

"Huh?"

"Something wrong?" Toffee incident(s) forgotten, Scott was straight into smothering older brother mode. Annoying, except when it was useful. He poked at the concoction on his plate dubiously.

"I don't think I feel too good." It was hardly a lie; he loved his grandmother but he could also really do without her cooking.

"Try a few more mouthfuls, dear," the wicked witch of the kitchen said. "Some good food should help."

"I don't see that here," Alan muttered under his breath, but Gordon gave her a patented Believable Fake Smile and prodded at his plate some more, reluctantly forcing himself to eat a few more bites. She beamed at him, and he gave her a polite smile back, all too aware that his alliance with her was just as tentative as his alliance with John, and therefore relied on keeping her sweet.

Which, right now, meant consuming as much of her latest cooking disaster as he could stomach.

Scott – oldest, bravest, sacrificial lamb on behalf of his brothers – was the first to cave, begging off on a full stomach and a reminder of the jeans he now had to handwash. His plate was mostly empty, although when he'd managed to stuff that much in his mouth Gordon had no idea, and after a moment of silent contemplation on Grandma's side he was given permission to wash his plate up and leave.

Gordon loved it when his brothers made things so easy for him. He shoved the concoction on his plate around for another few minutes, occasionally taking mouthfuls, before putting his cutlery down with a groan.

"Sorry, Grandma, I don't think I'm going to eat any more." She peered at him closely before standing up and walking around the table to get to him. He wasn't expecting her to press a hand to his forehead, and jumped when she made contact.

"Well your temperature's normal," she mused, and inwardly he groaned. Please let me leave the table, Grandma! "But if you're really not up to eating, off to bed with you." Yes! Grandma you are The Best!

"Sorry," he said out loud, standing up slowly and picking his plate up. "I'll just get this cleared up-"

She whisked it out of his hands.

"I said bed, young man," she scolded. "I can do your dishes for one evening, but I'll be up to check on you once I'm done and I don't want to see you out of bed." She steered him towards the stairs and, once out of sight of his brothers, gave him a wink. He grinned back, before starting the climb to the bedrooms – and, more importantly right now – Scott's toffee stash.

Having Grandma for an ally made a real difference to pranking.

He kept up the pretence all the way to his room, just in case he met Scott. He didn't, but Gordon had long since learnt not to take that for granted. Shutting himself in his bathroom, he called John.

As predicted, the ginger was munching away on cardboard-flavoured food that Gordon would do a lot to have instead of his grandmother's cooking.

"Scott's in the laundry room," his brother told him without preamble. "Brains and MAX are in their lab, and Grandma has Virgil and Alan pinned in the kitchen." Not for the first time, Gordon was pleased Kayo was off doing agent-y things with Lady Penelope for the week. Her allegiance was harder to secure than John's, and even when he had it she was liable to tell on him to Scott or Virgil at any time. Sneaking past her was also much harder. "I'd estimate you have five minutes before any of them move from their current locations."

"Roger that," he grinned. "It'll take me two."

Scott's hiding place was brilliant in its simplicity. It was both somewhere no-one, not even Gordon, would think to look, but so easily accessible that the chances of being caught in the act of retrieving some were close enough to nil – barring John and his All-Seeing Eyeness. Unfortunately for Scott, now that John had Not-Shared it with Gordon, those same factors made it child's play to steal from.

Gordon was careful not to take too much – Scott was the sort of person to know exactly how much toffee he had, and would very quickly put two and two together if toffee kept appearing in places he didn't remember having any and he noticed it vanishing from his stash. Besides, too much and the game would be up before it even began. He took a couple of small pieces from near the back, ones with identical wrappers to many others. Scott would have to be particularly observant and calculating to notice the disappearance of those.

Prizes obtained, he found his way back to his room and connected with John again.

"Grandma's on her way up," his brother warned, and despite having Grandma as an ally, Gordon figured it would be best to throw on some pyjamas and slink into bed regardless – after depositing the toffee in his bathroom cabinet inside one of his boxes of tablets.

Empty tablet boxes that had not yet reached their expiry date made fantastic hiding places for small objects. With the prescription declaring them for the sole use of one Gordon Cooper Tracy, none of his brothers had any cause to ever touch them. Not even John knew about that hiding place. Probably. You could never be too careful with the Eye in the Sky.

"You decent, kid?" Grandma asked, knocking on the door. John flickered out of sight, and Gordon made a noise that was probably an affirmative from under the covers. She took it as such and his door hissed open. Footsteps crossed his floor, and the bed dipped near his head. He looked up to see her grinning back down at him. "As you're in bed, I assume you've done what you needed to?"

He grinned back at her.

"Yup," he admitted.

"Good, good," she said. "I must say, it's a nice change to see your brother away from that desk more. Toffee or not, he was starting to stick to it."

Gordon laughed and she ruffled his hair.

"Now get some shut eye. Your brothers will have questions if you're out and about after I sent you to bed, and with you boys' job, it's something you're all lacking anyway. If I catch you out of bed again, I'll be dragging you back in here by your ear, got it?"

"Yes, Grandma," he agreed; sleep was nice, even if he'd rather be doing a few more laps in the pool. Ah well, sometimes sacrifices needed to be made in the name of pranking.

"I'll see you later," she told him, kissing his forehead – he made a face – before leaving the room.

So, Grandma didn't want to see him out and about? Well, that was what John was for.

"Hey, John?" he called once the door was shut. His brother appeared immediately, and Gordon suspected he'd never actually left, just culled visual. "Let me know when I have another five minutes free on this floor?"

"Sure thing," his brother agreed. "What's your next plan?"

Gordon grinned at him.

"You know the story of the Princess and the Pea?"

Chapter 4>>>

#irrelief #irrelief2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #toffee #scott tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #grandma tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #gumnut-logic

[writingfromkitchenator]

Cooks Privilege

Christmas fic

Masterlist

Based on an imagine found here by @imaginingsupernatural

Crowley x OFC

Words: 1,653

Warnings: Christmas cooking, fluff

Washing her hands, Eliana mentally goes over her list of things again, thinking about the stockpile of food that was on the table, ready to start cooking for what she knew would be hours’ worth of work.

It would be worth it, at least, that was what she told herself, so far she hadn’t met anyone who hadn’t enjoyed her cooking, and given the time of year it was, she figured it would be least she could do.

She looks thinks over as she dries her hands and nods to herself, deciding what was going to be best to start with, pulling out the key ingredients that she was going to need.

With the oven on, she flicks on some music, and gets to work.

Soon, one dish lead to another and another, getting herself into a rhythm of prepping, mixing, cooking, cooling and washing, sweat beading on her brow.  She wasn’t fazed, humming away to herself along with the music, and keeping herself on what she was doing.

Until there was a crash from her living room.

The gun was in her hand quick smart, but it soon lowered as she stepped into the lounge room with a sigh. “Really?  You couldn’t resist touching it?”

Crowley grins at her, but there was a slight hint of guilt in his eyes, a red bauble in his hand, the fallen Christmas tree at feet.  “Sorry love, it was just so bright and colourful, I couldn’t help myself.”

Eliana rolls her eyes and holsters her gun, waving back at him.  “I’m sure you can clean it up easily enough, in the meantime, I need to not let my muffins burn.”

It was hard to be mad at Crowley, not that she never had been, but she had far more important things on her mind today than to upset over a fallen Christmas tree.  She also knew that he could fix it in a heartbeat, and footsteps sounding behind her as she pulled her muffins from the oven, was proof enough of that.

“I will say, it does smell fantastic in here,” He said lightly, his gaze wondering to the several trays of cookies that she’d already made.  “Although I still don’t quite get why you’re putting so much effort in.”

“Touch those cookies and I will banish you back to Hell before you can even say ‘sorry’,” She said, pointing at him without looking over, his hand freezing just shy of the cookies.  “And it’s Christmas, believe it or not, I do enjoy doing something normal for once.”

Crowley does a small huff and quickly shoves his hands into his pockets.  “Like you would have Christmas day without me, darling, it just wouldn’t be the same.”

The look Eliana shoots him has him shrug, grinning, but she just shakes her head, turning away to hide her own smile.

He moves and sits at the kitchen table, watching her as she gets back into her rhythm again.  “Normal isn’t something I would ever thought I’d hear you say.”

“Christmas brings it out in me,” She said.  “Especially when I actually started having people to share it with.  It means I don’t have to focus on the supernatural or anything else, just me and whoever I decide to cook for.”

Crowley snorts.  “Such as the demon currently sitting in your kitchen?”

“The demon should just be glad he’s allowed,” Eliana gives him a smile, pointing a wooden spoon at him. “Especially if he does try and take some of my food before Christmas.”

At this, she takes one of her cookies and breaks a bit off, quickly popping it into her mouth.

“Now that’s hardly fair,” Crowley said, amused, watching her smile only grow wider.  “Are you really going to tease me like that darling?”

Eliana shrugs.  “What can I say?  Cooks privilege.”

He looks at the pile of ingredients still on the bench and shakes his head.  “Well, I guess I have no other choice but then to offer my services, don’t I?”

She actually paused at this, raising an eyebrow at him.  “You want to help me cook?”

“I’m immortal love, we have to have some hobbies to keep ourselves occupied.”  He said, enjoying her surprise.

“I didn’t doubt that you could cook,” She said quickly.  “More that you actually want to help me cook for others.”

Crowley shrugs and snaps his fingers, his suit jacket being replaced by an apron and he proceeds to rolls his sleeves up.  “I was bored, hence the visit anyway.  Might as well do something useful.”

“Uh huh,” Eliana smirks at him, giving him a once over before turning back to what she had been doing. “And the fact that you might get some food out of it, has nothing to do with it?”

“Or I could just be feeling generous for once,” He said, joining her.  “Now, what do you need me to do?”

With some instruction, Crowley got to work alongside her, easily fitting into her rhythm, the two of them working with each other easily.  It was no surprise to either of them, not that they’d ever said anything to each other, but they hunted like this too, just falling into an easy step with the other.

No one else had ever understood it, the Winchester’s thought it was strange and had commented on it multiple times, but neither Eliana nor Crowley had ever offered any sort of explanation behind it.

After some time, Eliana broke into giggles, earning a raised eyebrow from Crowley.  “Something amusing?”

“Oh, just a thought,” She said, smiling.  “I think I might just casually mention, after everyone’s eaten of course, just who helped me cook all this.”

Crowley takes a moment before he chuckles.  “Oh, I can see the expressions now.”

Eliana giggles again. “You can have a camera ready I’m sure, give us something to look back on.”

“Be the perfect image for something,” He said, smirking.  “Oh, you are diabolical at times.”

“I think it’s only fair after the amount of cooking being done,” She said, taking a cake from the oven. “And I definitely think it’s fair after what they’ve put you through this year.”

“Taking revenge for me now?” Crowley asked.  “Now, that is going to get tongue wagging.”

“You mean more than what they already do?”  She tests some icing that she had on the side, before sifting a little more sugar in. “We both know they talk more than a mother’s soccer club, but like a mother’s soccer club, they’ll never be able to prove anything.”

Crowley smirks and step over to the cookies, taking one.  “Oh, I’ve got a few pictures that could change that too.”

Eliana shoots him a slightly unimpressed look, even as he innocently took a bite of his cookie. “Now Crowley, what did I say about the cookies?”

“Cook’s privilege,” He grins.  “And I thought it was time for a break.  Can’t be too worked off my feet now, can I?  Hell hardly waits for Christmas.”

She hums thoughtfully, tasting the icing again before looking at him and then closing the distance between the two of them, standing just in front of him, an amused spark in his eyes.

“I guess you don’t want an early Christmas present then?”  She asked innocently, rocking on her toes a little.  “Can’t have you too tired if Hell is that difficult to run.”

He chuckles and closes the gap between the two of them.  “Now, don’t get too ahead of yourself-”

Crowley is cut off as she taps his nose with her finger and steps quickly out of reach, biting her lip to stop herself from laughing, a smudge of icing left on his nose.

His eyes narrow on her. “Is that how we’re going to play this?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She said, turning away, putting the icing quickly in the fridge.  “That was nothing compared-”

A squeal left her, quickly followed by laughter as Crowley grabbed her around the waist and he wiped some left over batter down her cheek.  She squirms in his grip, trying to free herself through the laughter, but Crowley was not making it easy, more batter ending up on his face.

Finally, she managed to turn in his arms and get him back, but only briefly, Crowley quickly backing her into the kitchen bench, his lips capturing hers quickly stifling the laughter into giggles.

Crowley smiles against her lips.  “I’m sorry love, were you trying to say something?”

Eliana giggled and kissed the tip of his nose.  “I was, but for the life of me, I cannot remember what it was.”

“Shame,” He said. “Here I was thinking you were going to apologise for this sticky stuff on the end of my nose.”

“I don’t think so,” She kissed the end of his nose again.  “It gives me an excuse to keep doing that, not to mention all the stuff you’ve put on my face.”

His eyes sparkle with mischief.  “Well, it’s a good thing you’re a good cook then isn’t it?”

He begins peppering her cheeks with kisses, breaking her into giggles again as she tries to escape the onslaught, eventually grabbing him and bringing his lips back to hers. Through smiles, the kiss steadily deepens, the cooking long forgotten as Crowley picks her up and sits her on the bench.

“What was that about an early Christmas present?”  Crowley whispered against her lips.

Eliana smiles.  “Only if you properly store all our cooking away. We can’t have it all going to waste.”

He chuckles softly and snaps his fingers, the food disappearing, stored away.  “I’m sure you won’t complain if it ends up like this again.”

She wraps her arms around his neck, not letting her smile drop.  “Cook’s privilege.”

Crowley laughs and captures her lips again.  Christmas could wait, for now, they both had something more important to occupy them.

#christmas fics #supernatural #crowley #crowley x ofc #original female character #short #drabbles

[omniswords]

camino with 12 pease ;o;

12. Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

leave me a pairing and a number and i’ll write you a kiss! [CLOSED FOR NOW]

remember when i said camila was connected to another character? (¬‿¬) tagging @universeenthusiast @marichatmas and @lineith for enduring me wailing about my baby and this pairing IT’S CUTE IT’S JUST REALLY CUTE

At least the tea will keep her mama busy. Tea, and talking. So, so much talking.

Camila supposes that’s par for the course when her and Nino’s mothers haven’t seen each other in so long. Maybe she and Nino would be the same way, if they saw each other less often. Not that her mama has any idea how often they see each other, or how often they’re alone together, or what they do when they’re alone together and, in her parents’ words, the devil is third party. In fact, the only reason they’re alone in the kitchen is because they’re barely out of their family’s earshot. So it’s maybe, definitely, for the best this way. She’d love to be spared the Marriage Lecture—and the premarital interactions lecture. It’ll spoil the tea, anyway. Even with all that mint and all that sugar. Even with the sticky sweetness of the chebakia his mother made.

With a huff, she drowns out the conversation coming from the living room with the rush of the kitchen sink, rolling up her sleeves to the elbows and gritting her teeth when they start to slide back down. It’s not that she hates doing the dishes; in fact, it’s probably her favorite chore. It’s just annoying to do in the semi-nice clothing her mama insists she wear when they gather for dinner like this. So much embroidery, so many knots or sequins, and the material is ridiculously heavy. She’d think it wouldn’t be like that, coming from countries where the heat is almost unbearable sometimes.

Beside her, Nino laughs and tugs at her sleeves. “I got it,” he murmurs, tossing his dishtowel aside and carefully folding the sleeves up and up until they’re secure at the elbows again. “There. Should be better.” With a short nod, he goes back to drying. Their little assembly line.

It’s hard to think of Nino, sometimes, as the little kid who asked her to marry him with a big toothy smile and a fistful of dandelions when he was four and she was five. Because he’s not four anymore, he’s twenty-three. He spins records and steams milk for a living, he smells like fresh coffee almost all the time and he wears his hair in locs, and…

And he’s washing the dishes with her. Of his own volition. Which is more than she can say about most guys she’s dated.

But then, Nino, all of him, is more than she can say about most guys she’s dated, too. And it’s not just because he’s stuck around the longest. (Honestly, three years is a record high for her.)

Out of the corner of her eyes, he smiles. “What’re you thinking about?” he asks, taking the next dish from her a little too early. He must want to keep his hands busy.

“Nothin’,” she mumbles back, stealing a glance into the living room. Their mothers are still chatting; hers is stifling her laughter in that way that makes it sound like the roof of her mouth itches. Noël looks dreadfully caught in the middle of it all, sprawled out on the couch, and she can’t say she envies him. Nino probably doesn’t either, no matter how sweet he is on her mother—no matter how many times he’s slipped and called her Mama instead of Tati. “Just stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” There’s still a grin in his voice, like he knows what stuff actually is. He probably does. He hasn’t been her oldest friend for nothing, even in spite of being separated for four or five years. “Cause I was just thinking about this.”

“What? Dishes?”

“Us. Doing dishes. Together. You know, if…” He takes the next one, too hasty again; it’s a joint effort for them to keep it from falling to the floor and shattering. (Oh God, not the couscous platter. Anything but the couscous platter.) “If we ever, you know. Moved in.” His voice falls to a hush, and he clears his throat nervously. As though, perhaps, he shouldn’t have said that out loud.

(He’s sort of in the clear. Her mama isn’t as much of a hardass about this stuff as her father is.)

“Do you want to move in together?” Camila drops the question, simple and quiet, as she reaches for the faucet and dries her hands. (That’s the good thing about eating communally: when you all share one or two plates, cleanup is a breeze. The only issue is, somewhere in their DNA, they have the insatiable urge to cook for twenty people instead of five.) Still, she doesn’t feel like heading back to the living room just yet, and she busies herself with fixing her sleeves. The more she struggles with them, the more she delays the inevitable. “Were you thinking about it?”

Nino’s cheeks flare red—a stark contrast with the rest of him, tall and honestly unfairly muscular. It’s a dead giveaway.

She smiles to herself but allows him to see it. “You know our parents would flip every possible shit if we did. Are you willing to sit through The Marriage Lecture?” It’s funny; with the other guys and girls she’s dated, she couldn’t care less about any of that stuff. Wouldn’t have even brought the lecture up. But this time, it’s Nino. Someone she, admittedly, is actually committed to for once. Someone who gets all the baggage and backstory and nuances, and says let’s check them anyway.

Nino shrugs. “Maybe.”

Camila’s already crossed the kitchen, out of their mothers’ sight, and she freezes. “…Nino?”

“Would you say no?” He swallows. “If I asked you?”

It’s bold of him, to know her hesitations and his own insecurities, and to ask something like that anyway. A thousand words want to come rushing out all at once, but she holds them in her throat and waits. Eventually, she manages to say, “Not yet… If you were planning on asking me, don’t do it yet.” Blindly, her hand gropes for something to hold onto, settling on the handle of the refrigerator, gripping tight, tight. It’s not as though this is the first time the topic’s come up, but it feels… different this time, in the kitchen he grew up in. More vulnerable, more… terrifying, to admit to. To commit to. “But if you asked me in the future, I’d say yes.”

Nino’s eyes go wide, and they flicker toward the living room, too. He looks like he’s trying so, so hard to keep it together. Like he can’t believe what he’s heard; he even pinches himself, even though he’s hardly subtle about it. “Yes…?”

“Yes, yes.” Camila holds her breath, checks one last time. Just to make sure her mama’s distracted. Then she beckons him closer with a finger, and whispers, “Get out of the doorway.”

On command, he follows her lead, and as soon as they’re both hidden in the corner of the kitchen she pulls him down into a hug to keep herself from shaking at her own confession. Her nails dig into his back, and on instinct he holds her tighter, and when she presses her ear to his chest his heart is racing, pounding over the sound of her mama’s howling laughter. She doesn’t give him much chance to shift away before she’s yanking him into a kiss—the quiet, hidden, forceful kind where his hands find a death grip on her waist and her back presses deliciously to the wall. It’s hard to tell whether the weight is lifting off her shoulders, or pressing down twofold, but with Nino parting from her with a thread of soft, apologetic kisses to her lips, she can’t be bothered to make a decision.

“I’m gonna pretend to be tired,” she whispers in the space between their mouths, her hand splaying over his chest as his trails down her arm, still aching for her touch wherever he can find it. “So you can offer to drive me home.”

“Then what?” he whispers back. “We talk?”

“Maybe we talk.” Camila bites her lip and grins up at him. “Or maybe we don’t talk.”

Nino’s mouth barely falls open, with the same incredulity in his mother’s voice one room over, but then he grins back. “Maybe we don’t.”

#miraculous ladybug #camino #nino lahiffe #oc: camila siddiq #kiss meme #HEY ALL ABOARD THIS REALLY GOOD SHIP #ASK ME ABOUT CAMILA #ASK ME ABOUT CAMINO #THEY'RE SO GOOD AND I LOVE THEM AND YOU SHOULD LOVE THEM TOO :((((( #Anonymous #answers

[treya-barton]

4. cooking together for the fluff asks 👀🙏🏻💞 (uh with souyo obvs XD)

Yosuke realized that while he had eaten plenty of meals prepared by his partner, he hadn’t ever watched him actually prepare one before.  Yosuke and Yu were spending their first weekend in their small dorm that they were sharing, and Yu had decided to cook them dinner for the first time. Throughout the week they had used their meal plan or brought something home from the convenience store to eat since they had been so busy with class, but tonight Yu had decided to make them something to celebrate their new relationship and completing their first week of university.  

After their long train ride from Inaba and getting their dorm set up the weekend before their first day of class, Yosuke and Yu had been listening to the album that Yu had shared with him on the ride over.  In the middle of their favorite song, Yosuke had blurted out his confession, and he wasn’t sure who had been more surprised, him or Yu.  He had been planning on waiting and getting settled in before confessing his feelings to Yu, but something about the song just made it seem like the opportune moment and he had spoken before his brain had a chance to catch up with itself.  Usually that only ended in disaster for him, but this time it had worked in his favor with Yu gratefully returning his feelings.

Which brought him back to this moment.  “How do you chop so cleanly?” Yosuke asked.  “I tried helping my mom out in the kitchen a few times but my vegetables always came out looking rough.”  It was the fifth question Yosuke had asked so far as he crowded Yu in their very tiny kitchen.  They had one burner and hardly any counter space, and Yosuke was worried he may be getting in the way and annoying Yu, but he couldn’t help himself.  It was his first time seeing Yu at work making the food that Yosuke loved so much and he wanted to know more about the process. It amazed him at how efficient Yu was in the kitchen, even if he really wasn’t surprised since he had tasted the fruit of his efforts in the past.  Also, he could tell by how relaxed his partner was how much he enjoyed cooking and he felt himself drawn to the process even more; he wanted to experience the things that brought Yu joy, just as Yu had for him.

To his surprise, Yu wordlessly placed the knife in Yosuke’s hand and positioned him where he had just been standing.  He then stepped behind Yosuke, having to press close due to the lack of space in the kitchen, before placing one hand over Yosuke’s on the knife and his other over Yosuke’s free hand.  “Hold the knife like this,” Yu instructed, carefully adjusting Yosuke’s fingers until the knife rested more naturally in his hand.  Yosuke shivered slightly at the sound of Yu’s voice next to his ear and the feeling of his warm breath over his shoulder, and he couldn’t help but feel flushed over how close together they were.  He glanced at Yu and noticed that his cheeks were also tinged with pink, although he seemed very focused on showing Yosuke what to do.  Seeing that Yu was also flustered somehow helped Yosuke relax a little, and he returned his focus back to the matter at hand.

“Like this?” he asked, and Yu withdrew his hand as Yosuke showed his grip on the knife.  It was a little different from holding his kunai, but it still felt pretty natural now that he knew how to hold it properly.

“Perfect.  Now I want you to slice the top off of the onion, holding your fingers of your other hand bent like this and away from the knife to avoid cutting yourself,” Yu explained, using his other hand to position Yosuke’s to show him how to hold the onion.  Yosuke did so and was surprised by how easily the knife sliced through; Yu seemed to keep his sharper than the ones his mom had at home.  Yu showed Yosuke how to peel the outer layer off on the onion before walking him through how to cut it in half and how to make the cuts so he would be able to do an even dice, using the curved fingers on his free hand to keep the knife aligned on the onion as he went.  Within minutes, Yosuke had a perfectly even diced onion, and he looked at his little pile in amazement.

“Did I really just do that?” he asked excitedly, and Yu grinned at him.  Yosuke continued to cut the rest of the vegetables with guidance from Yu as his boyfriend prepared the rice and chicken for their curry.  Yosuke watched him as he expertly diced the chicken and noted how quick and efficient he was with the knife, and he wondered how long it would take him to feel as comfortable as Yu was.

Yosuke at least knew how to use the butane burner since he had helped set up the ones at work that they used when cooking samples for customers, and Yu showed him what setting to use in order to cook the onions, peppers, and carrots so they would soften before they added the chicken.  Yosuke had fun using the wooden spoon to push the vegetables around, and he relished in the fact he was really cooking for the first time.  It was pretty fun, even if smelling the food as he worked on it was starting to make him feel hungry. Yu was peeling the potatoes and dicing them up so it wouldn’t take as long for them to soften up once they added the water. Yosuke had offered to do so, but Yu had replied that the work was tedious and could be slow and that he’d let Yosuke try his hand at it another time.  After watching Yu peel potato after potato, Yosuke couldn’t help but feel his partner had made the right choice.

“The chicken looks like it’s cooked through,” Yosuke commented, after noticing that none of the pieces looked pink anymore.  

“Time to add the water then,” Yu replied, giving Yosuke the measurements so he could pour it into their measuring cup.  He then poured in the water and brought up the heat in order to bring it to a boil. Yu added the potatoes and had Yosuke bring the temperature back down in order for it to simmer for 20 minutes.

“Now it’s time to clean up while we wait,” Yu instructed.  Yosuke put on some music for them and as Yu washed each dish that they had used to cook, Yosuke dried it and put it away.  In no time at all, they had both finished and still had some time to spare while the rice and curry cooked.  “It’s nice to have someone help me cook,” Yu mused.  “Nanako would help stir sometimes but she’s young so she could only do so much. You really did a great job – I appreciate the help.”

Yosuke beamed at the praise and put his arm around Yu’s shoulders.  “Only because I had a great teacher,” he said, shyly pressing his lips to Yu’s cheek.  Yu blushed and buried his head against Yosuke’s shoulder.

“You’re a good student,” he replied.  “You catch on pretty quick.”  His hand clutched at the collar of Yosuke’s shirt, and Yosuke couldn’t help but find it cute that his normally confident partner was acting so shy.  They had so far been moving pretty slow, since they were still getting used to the idea of being a couple, which in retrospect had made Yu’s move earlier where he was practically hugging Yosuke as he showed him how to dice a pretty big step forward.  Yosuke wrapped both arms around Yu and hugged him to his chest for a moment, relishing in how good it felt to be so close to him, before Yu’s timer on his phone went off, signaling that it had been 20 minutes.

“Time to add the curry blocks,” Yu said, pulling away from Yosuke as he opened the package that was sitting out on the counter.  He handed it to Yosuke who broke apart each block and tossed it into the curry, before mixing it in until the blocks dissolved and formed the roux.  The food finally began to smell like curry, and Yosuke felt his mouth water.

“Give it about five minutes for the roux to thicken and we’ll be ready to eat,” Yu instructed.  The rice in the rice cooker dinged to let them know it was ready, and Yu moved to pull down some bowls for them to use.  He shoveled some rice into each bowl, and once five minutes had passed the curry was finally ready to go and Yosuke took the bowls in order to spoon the curry over the rice.  To his surprise, instead of taking a bite right away Yu offered his first bite to Yosuke while looking at him expectantly.  “It’s your first time making curry, right?” Yu pointed out.  “You deserve to get the first taste.”

Yosuke shyly opened his mouth and leaned forward in order to eat from Yu’s spoon, blowing for a moment to cool down the steaming curry before taking the bite.  The curry tasted delicious, and Yosuke quickly took a spoonful from his own bowl before offering it to Yu.  “Not quite as good as the stuff you make from scratch, but I can honestly say I’m pretty happy with it,” Yosuke said.  Yu grinned at him before taking his own bite, his eyes sliding closed as he chewed thoughtfully.

“This is the best curry I’ve ever had,” he said once he had savored his bite, and Yosuke blushed before poking his arm.

“We both know that’s not true,” he replied and Yu shook his head before opening his mouth again, clearly wanting Yosuke to feed him another bite. Yosuke complied, and after Yu finished eating with a satisfied sigh he gave Yosuke a thoughtful look.

“I am being honest. There’s something special about a dish someone lovingly cooks for you,” he replied.

Yosuke rubbed the back of his head before softly muttering, “Maybe that’s why your food always tastes so damn good,” which caused Yu to grin at him.

“It was always cooked with love,” he said straightforwardly, and Yosuke quickly shoved another mouthful of curry in Yu’s mouth in order to get him to stop talking.  They continued to feed each other the rest of their meal, and they each ended up eating an extra bowl which left hardly any left for lunch the next day which had been the original plan.  After putting away the pitiful amount of leftovers and cleaning up the rest of the dishes, they made their way to the couch where they cuddled up against each other, bellies full and happy after their delicious meal.

“We should do this every Saturday,” Yosuke decided.  “You teach me how to cook something new until I get good enough to do it on my own.”

“I like that idea. Although I wouldn’t mind both of us cooking together all the time,” Yu replied.

“You never know – I may want to surprise you one day,” Yosuke replied with a twinkle in his eye. Yu smiled at him before leaning forward and placing a quick, chaste kiss against Yosuke’s lips.  It was warm and tasted faintly of the curry they had just shared, and the gesture filled Yosuke’s heart with ease.  

“A home cooked meal from my partner?  Sounds good to me,” Yu agreed.  He looked excited at the idea, and Yosuke couldn’t wait until he had enough skills to make it a reality.  He wanted Yu to really know how much he appreciated him and was glad he now had something that Yu was passionate about that he could share with him.  He looked forward to what next Saturday had in store.

#souyo #p4 #hanamura yosuke #narukami yu