#and they taste so fresh and is exactly like the ones i eat in turkey

[universitypenguin]

hey alice! i just wanted to ask, does lloyd and princess celebrate thanksgiving? I don’t rlly see lloyd as a holiday kind of guy buy princess i definitely see!! do they make like a feast together and say thanks? haha im jot rlly sure what goes on during thanksgiving im not american 😵‍💫 thank you!!!

Yes, Princess and Lloyd celebrate Thanksgiving. 

Princess always celebrated with her family, while Lloyd, Zach, and Jake usually gathered with Jake’s military buddies. However, what they all celebrate together is an annual “Friendsgiving” celebration that occurs on the Thursday before Thanksgiving. This event was traditionally hosted by Landon and his fiancee, Elle, but this year the responsibility was passed to Lloyd. Caught up in the midst of wedding planning she’d decided it was too much and asked if Lloyd would be willing to take over the burden of hosting. 

You were surprised by how unfazed Lloyd was about being asked. Of course, you knew that Lloyd could cook. He was competitive in the kitchen and intense about the science of food preparation and even more intense about nutrition. He wasn’t the kind of chef who was tied to a recipe, either. While he was living in France he’d taken culinary classes. Lloyd knew which herbs were soluble in water instead of oil and what ratios of sugar to fat created the best flavors. 

Perhaps it shouldn’t really be a surprise, given that he’d once been a top athlete, but Lloyd knew exactly what went into his body. Since his father, Joe, hadn’t cooked, his skill hadn’t been born from love but rather, necessity/ The need to eat was what drove him to the kitchen. He’d picked up the ability slowly and eventually, cooking had become one of his passions. 

Now, returning to Friendsgiving… Lloyd spared no effort in the preparations. He ensured the house would be spotless by arranging for the housekeeper to come on Monday. That night he picked up a fresh turkey and an eight pound prime rib roast from the butcher. The prime rib roast was in deference to the fact that he was the son of a cattle rancher and as such, believed that no festivities could be complete without a healthy serving of red meat. 

Then he began the meticulous process of separating the turkey’s dark and light meat because every chef worth their salt knows you can’t cook dark and light meat evenly at the same time. You’ll either make the light meat stringy or the dark meat greasy, so separating the different types of meat is the most necessary step in the whole process. Next, he applied a citrus rub of orange and lemon to tenderize the meat and infused herbs under the turkey’s skin. He used a seasoning rub on the prime rib roast.

Everything had been done. The meats were roasting, the table was set and all that was left was for the guest to arrive. 

He’d deliberately invited you to come over an hour earlier to give your approval on the decorations and taste the food. 

“What do you think?” Lloyd demanded, two seconds after you’d begun to chew a bite of stuffing. 

“Mmmhhh…” you held up a hand, warding off his impatience and savoring the flavors.

“Very good.”

“Good?”

Lloyd’s outrage cracked your composure. 

“Lloyd, it was delicious. Can I have another?”

“No. How was the crust? It wasn’t soggy at all, right?”

“It was the best stuffing I’ve ever tasted,” you said.

He frowned. “What kind of stuffing does your mother make?”

“Are you questioning my mother’s cooking skills?”

“I’m trying to get a baseline of comparison. ‘The best I’ve ever tasted’ isn’t very concrete, Princess. Be more specific.” 

“You didn’t answer the question,” you said.

Lloyd held up his hands in surrender. “I would never. Now, moving on. Try these.” 

He pulled a tray out of the oven and offered you something that looked like a pastry. 

You picked up one to inspect. “What is it?”

“Cranberry Brie scones. Take a bite and tell me if it needs a dusting of powdered sugar. The recipe called for it, but I didn’t want to ruin the tartness of the cranberry sauce so I left it off.” 

You sampled and approved. Lloyd continued serving dishes. Green bean casserole, twice-baked potatoes, homemade gravy, and mac n’ cheese. The mac n’ cheese impressed you the most and when you said as much, Lloyd delivered a highly technical explanation about the importance of blending to achieve a proper ‘roux.’ You waited until his back was turned and googled ‘what is a roux?’

“How long did all of this take you?”

Lloyd shrugged, pouring you a glass of wine. “I’ve been doing a little bit every day. The potatoes, stuffing, and casserole were made in advance. I just reheated them in the oven. And the meat takes less work than you might think.” 

“What are the others bringing?”

“Elle’s bringing roasted asparagus and a pumpkin pie. Zach’s indulging his inner Southern boy and bringing biscuits and a pecan pie. Also, did you know that pecan pie is the official state pie of Texas?”

“No.”

“Well, according to Zach, it is.” 

“Is Jake bringing his new girlfriend?” you asked.

“Yes. He’s also bringing a salad and candied yams because she’s a vegetarian.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to share a meal with a vegetarian?”

“Apparently. I’m even letting her into the house. I considered putting a table out on the deck for them on principle… but that seemed a little bigoted, even for me.” 

“I’m proud of you. That shows real growth.” 

You lifted your wine glass, making a toast. Lloyd smirked, raising his glass to clink with yours. 

“To growth,” you said.

“Cheers.” Lloyd’s face wrinkled with disgust and you giggled. 

“Don’t worry, it’s only for a few hours. You’ll cope. The house looks nice. Did you have a decorator come?” 

“Yeah. She put up the leaf garlands and spread candlesticks everywhere. Who even needs this many candles?”

“They’re just for show,” you said. 

“Then what’s the point?”

“It looks pretty.” 

Lloyd grunted and sipped his wine. “I get why Elle wasn’t up to hosting Friendsgiving this year. It’s a lot of work.” 

“Be careful. If you knock this out of the park, they’ll want you to host Christmas, too.”

“What?”

“Christmas, Lloyd. It’s in four weeks.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

You smirked and sipped your wine. 

“Tell me that’s a joke.”

“I love your fireplace. Wouldn’t it look lovely with a pine garland?”

- - - - - - - - - - - -

THE END

masterlist

#lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen fanfic #gray man fanfic #the princess and the lawyer: ask #the princess & the lawyer: ask

[lomoforms]

Tastes better from scratch

#Tastes better from scratch how to#

#Tastes better from scratch plus#

One of these is polymerization, another is color change and a third is the production of lots of flavor compounds, including caramel. The sugar, or rather the carbon molecules, in the protein is reacting with the amino acids to produce something in the region of 24 reactions. The actual chemical reaction that's taking place is called the Maillard reaction. When you make a meat sauce or a stew, you brown the meat first over heat. For example, a plain omelet refrigerated and then reheated will likely taste no different from a fresh plain omelet, but, an omelet cooked with onions, garlic, pepper and broccoli will have a distinctly different and more flavorful taste.Īromatics aside, is there anything else that contributes to the flavor of a dish that can help boost its lasting power? In general, as the food cools and is left to sit in the fridge, and then re-heated, some of these reactions continue to take place resulting in improved flavor. Aromatic ingredients tend to undergo a larger number of reactions that produce flavor and aroma compounds which in turn react with the proteins and the starches. During the cooking process, there are a certain number of reactions that take place concurrently in a very complex setting. Basically, these are anything that adds flavor to a dish. Well, foods that do improve have an important commonality they include a multitude of ingredients each one with distinct aromatic properties - such as onion, garlic, peppers, herbs. Shelke, we know that not all foods make great leftovers, but how can we tell that we we're about to cook/eat will taste better the next day? Kantha Shelke, a spokesperson for the Institute of Food Technologists, and the Founder of Corvus Blue LLC, a Chicago-based food science and research firm, for answers.ĭr. The reason? For all the gross things that can happen, there's also a bunch of taste-improving reactions that take place as well.īut, in my mind, it doesn't do a particularly good job at explaining exactly how "chemicals work some delicious magic." And so I called up Dr. About a week and a half from now, the whole nation is going to be stuffing themselves with leftover turkey sandwiches. Now leftovers are not always a bad thing. The article in Gizmodo does pay lip service to this: My point, is that while there are a few foods that clearly don't benefit from a night relaxing in the refrigerator, say a Caesar salad, or last night's sushi, there are so very many more foods that do improve over time. Sludge is the last term I would use to describe the wonderfully complex melding of flavors that had soaked into the moist yet still toothsome noodles. And thirdly, I spent much of a recent weekend killing, cooking, and shelling lobsters for the precise purpose of enjoying a homemade, slow cooked Arogosta Fra Diavolo (that's spicy lobter pasta) after a long sojourn in the fridge. Sure, you've lost the crunch, but in its place, you have the umami-packed makings of the most decadent luncheon sandwich with all those flavorsome spices from the buttermilk crust having migrated into the meat. Secondly, "soggy mess" is hardly a respectful way of addressing what is among the most sought after leftover foods in the entirety of the food universe, cold fried chicken. Why, oh why are you putting dressed salad in the fridge in the first place? Anyone who knows a thing, or even half a thing about food, knows that if you so much as apply a vinaigrette to salad more than 10 minutes before you plan to eat it, you'll be dining on a sad bowl of wilted, limp grass. Lauren has four adorable children with her husband, Jeff, and when she's not creating recipes, she enjoys time spent outdoors in the warm Arizona weather with her family.I have three things to say to the author of this piece - before I move on to the other things I have to say, that is.

#Tastes better from scratch plus#

The book contains a collection of her favorite classic recipes, plus many fan favorites from her website, and some enticing new creations. Lauren Allen is the recipe creator behind the popular food blog Tastes Better from Scratch, where millions of readers come each month to find easy and approachable, family-friendly recipes. Make ahead and freezer tips for recipes.

#Tastes better from scratch how to#

QR codes linking to a video of how to make the recipe.Inside you'll find recipes for every meal of the day, and more, as well as a variety of different cuisines. Her much anticipated first cookbook includes recipes she terms, "The Best of the Best," including her personal favorite recipes and fan favorites from her website, and several new recipes. Lauren Allen, owner and creator of the Tastes Better From Scratch website is best known for recipes you can count on.

#Tastes better from scratch

[gar-trek]

please share what you have to say about food cubes!!

I was feeling a little apprehensive about releasing the TOS Food Document™ because it is so damn long…. But since you asked anon

DISCLAIMER:

This is focused solely on food as it appears in the original series. Whatever explanation of food synthesizer/replicator that may come in later series does to apply here. I am also not a Star Trek expert. I’m sure there is some super fan out there who knows everything there is to know about food in TOS, but that person is not me. This is just my thoughts as I’ve observed instances where food is shown or mentioned in TOS. If my thought process is flawed, or I make some claims that don’t really make sense, I am sorry. The food canon is very complicated and vague, so this is me just trying my best to make sense of it. I’d also like to mention I did not explicitly cover the meal scene in What Are Little Girls Made Of? Or the ice cream scene from And The Children Shall Lead, but I do make reference to them. I’m sure there are other food scenes I didn’t get to cover here, so if I’m missing a few pieces, I’m sorry.

Anyway… let’s get into it!

The original series, food, and other things that keep me up at night

I don’t care about continuity or plot holes in Star Trek: The Original Series, and if I did, I think the show would become rather unwatchable. It’s not about what happens to get us from plot point A to B, but more important that we do get there (ie, who cares how or why Spock’s brain has been removed from his body, it’s more important that we do get it back inside).

This being said, there is one aspect to TOS that baffles me to no end, and its something I just cannot overlook: the food. Food, the entire concept of it as it appears in TOS haunts me. Each time they show or mention food it makes less and less sense. It’s a never-ending nightmare and I spend every day trying to understand what goes on in the Enterprise Cafeteria. Today I would like to explore a couple food instances on TOS, and hopefully make a little sense of what is happening.

The first chilling incident: The Man Trap (S1E2) - Rand is a thief

In this episode, we see Yeoman Rand on her way to deliver Sulu his meal. She is carrying a tray of colored food cubes (which is what I will be referring to them as here, because there is no official name) and what we can assume to be some kind of alien variant of celery (earth celery with some red crap stuck on top). While waiting for the turbo lift, Rand eats one of the celery sticks intended for Sulu. My question is why. Like literally why does this happen. Sulu never mentions it (maybe he doesn’t notice). She never mentions it to him, which means we can assume she doesn’t want him to know. So why is Rand stealing food? Does she not get enough to eat? Is the limits for how much you get to eat on the Enterprise that strict you need to turn to thievery to get a proper meal? and if that the case, she’s shorting Sulu on his allotted food. In this same scene, we see Ensign Green (who is really a salt-sucking monster) make a grab for the tray as if he too is going to steal Sulu’d food. However, Rand slaps his hand away and asks “who do you think you are?”, a hypocritical statement considering Rand is also in the act of stealing food. So Rand, I must pose the same question to you. This scene has no resolution, so any interpretation is up to the viewer. Whether you think Rand's actions make her a girlboss or a thief, is up to you, however, one thing is undeniably true: Rand eats food off other people's plates.

Other food-related things of note in this episode is that Sulu sprinkles salt on the celery sticks. This means they are either bland or that's just his personal taste. Also, when Rand gives him his tray, he says “may the great bird of the galaxy bless your planet” and this has nothing really to do with food, I just thought it was kind of badass.

(Sulu’s food tray with 3 celery instead of 4 because Rand ate one)  

Incident two: Charlie X (S1E3) - synthetic meatloaf

In Charlie X, we see Captain Kirk make this comment in passing:

“Today on earth it is Thanksgiving, if the crew has to eat synthetic meatloaf I want it to look like turkey.”

This statement leaves us with a couple undeniable truths:

1. Meatloaf is a meal option on the Enterprise.

2. It is synthetic, meaning the meatloaf may not contain any meat at all.

3. It is not shaped like turkey, but it is possible to do so.

if the meatloaf served on the Enterprise is synthetic, then it very well could be made out of the same stuff the colored food cubes are made out of. Also, (and this is pure speculation so take it with a grain of salt) since we never hear anyone refer to the colored food cubes by name, they could literally be the “synthetic meatloaf” that Kirk is referring to here. In this case, the term synthetic meatloaf would not mean a synthetic version of the popular American dish meatloaf but instead loafs of synthetic meat. Since we do not know exactly what synthetic meat looks like, it very well could be brightly colored cubes.

In either case, Kirk is asking them to turn synthetic food from one shape to another. We understand this is possible through the food synthesizer, however, if all the food they eat on the Enterprise is synthetic anyway, then why did Kirk specifically mention synthetic meatloaf in the shape of turkey? would the turkey not instead be made out of synthetic turkey? why must the synthetic turkey be made specifically out of meatloaf? isn’t every single food that comes out of the food synthesizer made out of the same thing? It would have made more sense for Kirk to say “it's thanksgiving so can you made the food synthesizers produce turnkey?”. However, Kirk is like, a really cool guy, so it is possible that the meatloaf comment is just a fun joke. Either way, we know that synthetic meatloaf is a standard menu item on the enterprise, yet we have never seen anyone consume it.

Incident 3: The Corbomite Maneuver (S1E11) - Green leaves

In this episode, Kirk goes in for a physical, and Doctor McCoy reports that the captain is 2 pounds overweight. In response to this, the Doctor changes the captain's dietary card to help him lose a little wight (🙄). We later see the captain served a “dietary salad” in place of his usual meals. The existence of dietary salad is interesting for many reasons. Most importantly, we understand that dietary salad is somehow better for you than what is usually served on the Enterprise. It most likely has a lower caloric intake than say, colored food cubes. However, as discussed before, most if not all the food on the Enterprise is synthetic. If the food is created, and not naturally made, then one can assume its caloric value can be controlled. Would it not be possible to make a lower-calorie version of colored food cubes? one would assume that the cubes are made to have the perfect amount of nutrients to satisfy yet keep humans a healthy weight if they are in fact a form of synthetic man-made food. How would the captain overeat, if portions are pre-determined by dietary cards? Is Kirk somehow going rouge and consuming food that is not created by the food synthesizer (the captain's secret cookie stockpile??).

The existence of this salad also begs another question: is it synthetic as well, or are they growing fresh salad on the Enterprise? We do know that they are able to grow things on the ship, however, there has never been any discussion of growing crops specifically for consumption. If this is the case though, it may explain why we often see crew members eating celery sticks. Perhaps things like celery sticks and dietary salads are grown on the Enterprise, but all other food is synthetically created. In which case, who’s job is it to harvest food and prepare it for meals? Did Rand have to put that dietary salad together all on her own?

One more interesting point about the Salad: When Kirk first receives it, he asks

“what in the devil is this? Green leaves?”

which prompts Rand to explain that it’s a salad. It is very possible that Kirk genuinely has no idea what a salad is. He may have never had one, nor heard of the food in his entire life. Later we see him eat the salad with his hands, which further proves the point that captain kirk doesn't know what salad is. Why captain Kirk would somehow have no knowledge of salad is up to speculation.

Incident 4: The conscience of the king (S1E14) - Cry over spilled milk 

In this episode, Lieutenant Riley is served colored food cubes and a glass of what appears to be milk. There isn’t much of significance here, other than the fact we know it is possible to get a glass of milk with your meal on the Enterprise. Unlike Sulu, Riley doesn’t have any celery sticks but seems to have a larger serving of colored food cubes as compensation. We also learn that milk is served in a large glass, something that seems very impractical on a starship.

Riley proves my point moments later when he spills milk on a control panel and shatters the glass. This begs the question, who is going to clean that up?

Incident 5: Tomorrow is Yesterday (S1E20) - Chicken noodle soup

In this episode, the Enterprise accidentally beams a 60′s army man abroad their ship (for the second time). This random chad ensign asks the man if he’s hungry because he’s a troll I guess and he wanted to flex their cool future food machine. The army captain guy is like sure, I could go for some chicken soup right now (a very natural response to being beamed onto a spaceship for the first time). Chad ensign has like three cards in front of him, and I guess one of them just happens to be chicken soup because he puts it in the machine and the soup appears. Grant it, we never actually get to see the soup with out own eyes, but the army captain does seem to be pretty convinced that it is chicken soup just by the smell. This opens up a couple possibilities:

-The food synthesizer can make almost anything you want, and the card is maybe like a very broad category, like a dinner card, and when you put it in you can pick any dinner food you’d like.

or

-The food synthesizer can only make what is specific to each card, and the ensign just got extremely lucky and happened to have a card that was the exact food the army captain wanted.

More evidence, which we will go over later, points more towards the theory that one card is equal to one specific type of food. In this case, it is unclear how the synthesizer food cards are distributed, or how you get your pick of what food you would like. It is also more likely that options would be limited. This does make sense, however, it makes this scene very confusing, as, as I’ve pointed out, the ensign had a very limited number of cards, but exactly what the captain had asked for. Pure luck? what mind game was that Chad ensign trying to play with the poor man who was abducted from earth... we will never know.

One more very interesting thing is established here: The transporter room has a food synthesizer. Why this is is purely up to speculation. In my mind, having a food synthesizer in the transporter room would be like having a full kitchen where you park your car. Seems pretty useless, but maybe the guys in the transporter room requested easy access to snacks? Why the transporter room would get this special privilege is again, up to speculation.

Incident 6: Space Seed (S1E23) - Dinner with Khan

In Space Seed a special dinner is put together to welcome Khan onto the Enterprise. We see that they are being served colored food cubes and celery sticks. Doctor McCoy walks into the dining room and comments about how the display is “very impressive”. However, this seems like a very unusual comment considering we are shown the only food we have ever seen consumed on the Enterprise. What exactly makes this food “impressive” as compared to other celery sticks and colored food cubes? Is there some way to tell this particular food is better that we don’t know about, but is obvious to everyone on the Enterprise?

There is also a chance that Doctor McCoy is just very easily impressed with food, and upon seeing any food spread he is likely to comment in wonder. Note the way Scotty is looking at McCoy. His face is a mixture of confusion, judgment, and pity. Perhaps Scotty is thinking to himself “bruh, it’s literally just colored food cubes chill out man,”. There is no explanation as to why Scotty is giving McCoy such a look, so this very well could be the case. Even though it is a silly explanation, I don’t think it should be ruled out that one of McCoy’s personality traits is being overly excited about food of any kind.  

Incident 7: Journey to Babel (S2E10) Party food

Much like in Space Seed, in this episode, we get to see a meal put together for a special occasion. All the diplomates are getting down at a mixer where a spread of food has been provided. These snacks seem very similar to colored food cubes, however I do think they differ. They may be the same type of food, but different in some way. In which case colored food cubes is an overarching category of food, and here we see two different types. The smaller more brightly colored cubes can be put in drinks, though if this is what you are supposed to do with them, or just the preference of that one alien species I do not know. Though I must point out, we have seen colored food cubes served in brown sauce in What are Little Girls Made Of? (S1E8) so it is not completely unheard of to have your colored food cubes served soggy.

The other type of colored food cubes we see are a lot larger and more pair shaped (in reality, they probably were just skinned pairs dipped in food coloring, but for this essay, it’s important that we completely ignore the fact there is another life outside of Star Trek). Now to me, these are very interesting, because the dull color and apparent texture are a lit more similar to standard colored food cubes we have seen thus far. I would even go o far to say that this is the same exact food, just sans the cubed shape. So really, standard colored food cubes are just the cubed version of whatever this food is. This, again, is just speculation, but it does point us to the fact that colored food cubes are not naturally cubed (I’m going somewhere with this is promise)

Incident 8: The Trouble With Tribbles (S2E15) The trouble with Chicken sandwichs

Here we see Kirk attempting to order a chicken sandwich and coffee. What he gets instead is a plate full of tribbles,  hilarity ensues. I think this scene is interesting because we can add to our list of food items that are on the menu at the enterprise cafeteria: chicken sandwich. However, this is another food item we do not see. There is no way of knowing if the Enterprise's version of a chicken sandwich is what we would imagine a chicken sandwich to be. Much like the meatloaf and the soup, because we do not see it, there is no way of knowing if the food exists in the way that we as 21st-century people understand it. The events of TOS take place more than 200 years in our future, so to speculate that food could change a lot during that time isn’t a stretch. I don’t know, just some food for thought (lol)

Incident 9: By Any Other Name (S2E22) Living deliciously

In this episode, an alien taking the form of a human enjoys some colored food cubes. He makes a comment about how they are good they are while enthusiastically eating his food. This is a very important moment because it tells us that colored food cubes do taste good. In fact, they taste really good. Just before he eats, the alien comments on how humans could just take pills that give them all their nutrient needs and give up food completely (think the Jetsons cartoon). On the Enterprise, they do not eat just to live, but because they enjoy their food as well. This tells us that colored food cubes are at the very least, worth eating, and at the best, very delicious.

One more interesting thing: Spock is eating some kind of soup while everyone else enjoys colored food cubes. This could be a Vulcan preference, however, we know that Spock is vegetarian. This could be alluding to the fact that Colored Food Cubes are made out of meat.

Conclusion:

Yes, I asked a lot more questions than I answered. There are some things that make absolutely no sense to me, primarily, the food synthesizer and diet cards. Some evidence points to the fact that the food synthesizer can make practically anything (see Tomorrow is Yesterday, And the Children Shall Lead). However, one dietary card is equal to one specific food, which would mean they would have to produce a lot of these dietary cards if there is many meal options. How these cards are distributed, and what their limitations are, we do not know. And although we do not know the limits of what the food synthesizer can create, we do know these food have been served on the enterprise at least at one point:

-colored food cubes (variety)

-celery

-synthetic meatloaf

-synthetic turkey (Thanksgiving Special)

-Dietary Salad

-Milk

-Chicken Soup

-Chicken Sandwich

-Mystery Soup

-Ice cream (variety of flavors)

All of this food (except for maybe the dietary salad and celery) are synoptically created, so what they are actually made up of, I cannot say.

And finally, I would like to make a point about the colored food cubes. I think upon first inspection one would assume colored food cubes is a dish created specifically for space travel (think the food created for modern-day astronauts to consume in space). However, we learned that there is possibly a variety of colored food cube dishes. Since there is such a wide variety of food on the Enterprise, why would they also need to create a food specifically for space travel? I think that colored food cubes are actually a common dish, not intended specifically for space travel. Perhaps it was an alien food that got popular on earth, maybe it was a dish developed later in Earth's history by humans. I can only speculate, but I do think it is more than just boring space food. Everyone seems to have a preference for it, so I think it’s a dish you can eat over and over again and not get sick of. What colored food cubes taste like is completely up to speculation, but I would assume they are a savory food, considering we often see people enjoying them for their main meal.

I still have more to say, but for the sake of everyone, I’ll end it there. This was a lot of thought dumping, so if some of the things I said made no sense at all, I’m sorry. I’d love to hear some of your thoughts on TOS food! please share with me what you think colored food cubes would taste like :)

#star trek #tos #star trek tos #the original series #anon reveal yourself so i can kiss you #please #whole ass ted talk #sorry this is so long #colored food cubes #kirk #james t kirk #spock #bones #leonard mccoy #journey to babel #space seed #yeoman rand #sulu #hikaru sulu

[gucciwins]

The First Kiss

Harry and Y/N go on their first date...will they finally become something more?

Word count: 4814

A/N: I know how much you all love breakout room and the follow up it's your birthday. I love writing them and it's been a while but do know they are doing well. this is nothing but sweet fluff. I do mention the vaccine and wearing masks which I hope you all are doing. it's important to stay safe and truly wish nothing but the best for you all. I love you xxx

please reblog and let me know your thoughts

_____

“Are you feeling good? I sent over a goodie basket.”

Harry giggled, loving how concerned you were. “I’m doing good, baby.” He sees you tuck your head into your sweater smiling, when he notices it’s the one he sent you in a goodie basket after you got your second shot of the vaccine.

It’s spring break, and Harry can finally say he is officially vaccinated after letting the mandated two weeks pass. It’s perfect timing, honestly, as he has been itching to finally see you in person again.

Your university let you know that they would begin to have vaccine dates open to students through an email that you quickly forwarded to Harry. You had to register to get a date for your first vaccine, and slots were filling up fast. You shot Harry multiple texts telling him what day you got and time, but you went without an answer for an hour which is weird, seeing as Harry never liked to leave you waiting more than five minutes.

By the time he got back to you, he had to wait two weeks, unlike you, who would be getting in only three days. You asked why he didn’t answer, and he said he was in class. You frowned because even then, he always answered. He then confessed he lost his phone in his apartment and didn’t have time to search for it.

You laughed about it, but he was disappointed because he wanted to see you. To give you a hug. To hold your hand.

After spending his birthday together, you both decided against meeting in person for safety even though you both wanted to, more than anything. You postponed your date to the future. Instead, you completed the group assignment through zoom meetings that led to facetime calls. After submitting the project and learning that you aced the assignment, well, you both caved in.

Harry gushed on how he always got B’s on the professor’s assignments, and to celebrate, he sent you a dozen cupcakes from the bakery that you never stop raving about located only three blocks from where you live. Then proceeded to call him over to celebrate and who was he to say no. Harry was shocked at how rich and full of flavor they were because he wasn’t aware it was vegan. Yet, it tasted better than anything he ever had. Harry realized why it was your favorite, promising to take you there in person to have your pick of favorites and not only red velvet and carrot cake because they were safe choices.

You couldn’t say you’ve been on a proper date with Harry, but you’d like to count all the zoom calls and facetime calls as dates not that you let Harry know it would only inflate his ego. You’d start a call to ask a question on assignments, and it would lead to sharing stories back and forth of what their favorite book was to where they would visit if they could go that very second. You loved how insightful he was, also liked how he used pastel highlighters to mark his annotations. Harry was a fan of how you always had a pencil in your hair or behind your ear. How you always had a snack on hand because you didn’t want to listen to professors without something to eat or you’d lose focus.

You were glad you’d be able to get together safely but also taking all the needed precautions. Safety is hot, as Harry liked to say all the time when you sent him photos of you wearing your masks.

“Yeah, like the basket?”

Harry grins, but it’s not as bright due to the lacking pixels of your laptop. He holds it up, having placed it in his lap. “I did love the bath bombs.”

You smile back at him, “Going to change your life. Self-care is important, bub. Even in the smallest ways as a bath.”

Harry nods, “I know, baby. The reason I remember to take deep breaths each morning, no longer eager to reach for my phone.”

“Proud of you.”

“And I of you, baby.”

Harry shines his dimples at you when you turn your head away at the sweet name he started calling you a few weeks ago. You adored it, honestly, but it always left you feeling flustered.

“H, please.”

“Baby, I like seeing you flustered.”

“You’re a menace.”

He shrugs, still giggling.

“How are Mitch and Sarah?”

“Wonderful, sickly in love as always. Spend their time at Sarah’s like composing together.”

“That’s sweet.” You lean in, smiling at him, “you know we should all hang out together. I get to meet Mitch properly and see Sarah again, and you’ll get to meet Amy.” You grow excited at the thought.

“Not before I get to see you.”

“H, we got to coordinate a day that works for all of us. No need to get jealous.”

“Not jealous.”

“Sure,” you reply sarcastically.

“Got to learn to share me with Amy. I cook her lunch and dinner; otherwise, she’d be nothing but a walking cadaver.”

“I want you to make me lunch and dinner,” he pouts.

“I can now that you’ve vaxxed.”

“That I am, so you are.”

“Yes,” you’re waiting for him to go on.

“Will you go on a date with me? Think we waited long enough, and if my feelings weren’t obvious enough, I like you and really want to take you out.” he rambles on.

You interrupt him knowing fully well he could go on for days, “I’d love to, Harry.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yes, Harry.”

“Great. Friday then.”

“I’m free.”

“I know, know your schedule by heart.”

“Creep,” you gasp at the news.

“Shush, like you don’t have my classes added to your planner.” Your turn to pout.

“I like knowing your schedule, and they overlap.”

“I do too. Look forward to your messages every day between classes.”

“So Friday? What are you planning?”

“A picnic.”

You jump up in excitement, causing your laptop to fall back on your bed before you dive to save it. Harry yelling dramatically in the background as if you just dropped him.

“H, be quiet. You’re fine.”

“Dropped me, darling.”

“Dork.”

He mutters something in return, but you can’t hear him.

“So I’ll prepare lunch because you’ve told me once or twice that you’re hopeless in the kitchen.” Harry doesn’t even try to fight you because it’s true. “You’ll take care of drinks and desserts.”

“Seems like you’re planning the date,” he teases.

“I like picnics.”

“Well, I like you, so I’ll let you take over.”

Your smile turns soft, reaching your hand out as if you could reach in and caress him. “I like you, too. I can’t wait to give you a hug.”

“Counting down the hours.”

“Alright, you have class in ten, and you always struggle to log in.”

“Making me hang up. Not fair.” Harry frowns, debating skipping class for you.

“Don’t think about it, Styles.”

“Fine. Take care, baby.”

“Bye, H.”

A date.

You have a date with Harry.

Finally, it happened.

_____

You were nervous.

Why were you nervous? It was just Harry.

Harry, who wanted to date you from your first meeting, who emailed you asking you out, and who has not stopped talking to you since February. Constantly reminding you of his feelings for you. You hope he knew you felt the same, in texts and sending him little gifts even as small as writing him a letter.

You got up early today to prepare lunch. You decided on sandwiches, a non-messy meal, and Harry always said he wanted to try the bakery bread you use and not the basic store-bought. It was a bit pricey but not as much anymore because you had become a regular, meaning the sweet owner began giving you a discount, especially when finding out you're a student. Still, you always remember to leave a good tip. The turkey sandwiches were finished with cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. Looked so good that Amy had one as you were making them. You made three and packed them up in your glass reusable containers.

Staring at the sandwiches, it felt like too little food when Harry had told you many times how much he enjoys eating, so you cleaned up and got to make a second meal. You decided on vegetable rice paper rolls. A favorite and easy meal to make that you enjoyed eating. It was packed with lettuce, avocado, cabbage, bell peppers, cucumbers, noodles, and fresh herbs. This was a meal your dad made you all the time as a child with the special slightly spicy peanut sauce that you could drizzle on top.

Harry was going to enjoy this, so you hoped. He promised to make strawberry lemonade. Assured you that it would not be store-bought, and you believed him. During one of your late conversations, he shared how his sister would make him some when she returned from uni. Reminds him of home, he would say.

After packing everything away in the fridge to keep it cool it was time to get ready. You stood in front of your closet for a good five minutes before you began to swipe through the hangers. You knew you wanted to wear a dress; it was warm weather and would only get hotter as the day went on.

You searched your entire closet, there were three options once you had decided on, but you called Amy in to make the final decison for you. She decided on the one sitting in the middle of your bed, which was exactly what you were thinking.

The dress was a white button-front high slit that fit you nicely. You hadn't used it in quite some time, seeing as when you left your apartment, it would be in leggings, sweats, and the first sweater you could slip on.

You couldn't stop looking in the mirror, loving how it flowed around you when you twirled. For accessories, you slipped on a gold ring that had a little heart on it and another that was a gift shaped like a small snake as it was going to scale down your finger. A simple heart locket gifted to you by your grandparents hung right above your cleavage. You decided to leave your hair natural, liking how it air-dried after the shower you had that morning.

There was no makeup on your face, just your favorite rosebud salve lip balm that left your lips soft. Amy insisted you put some on, but you stood firm in your decision, knowing you'd be wearing a mask and didn't want anything smudging.

You looked down at the time on your phone and knew it was time to head down, Harry said twelve, and you didn't want to make him come up to your apartment only to walk down the three levels again. You grabbed the picnic basket that was sitting in the back of yours and Amy's shared doorway closet and made sure to place everything neatly, leaving room for Harry's drink and stashing a bunch of napkins in for any accidents. Basket prepared, you slipped your sunglasses in your hair, placing your lavender tote bag with tiny embroidered daisies on your shoulder that contained sunscreen, your wallet, extra face masks, and a book Harry had told he had wanted to read.

Before opening your door, you put on the white mask that you embroidered sunflowers on. It was one of your favorites, and glad it complimented your look well. You walked down the stairs slowly, not wanting to drop the basket.

You walk out the front door and find Harry getting out of the yellow mask on his face. As you get closer, you can see it's the one you made him. It has bees on it, and embroidered on the left side is 'my honey.' Harry had turned quite pink when he opened the gift he got in the mail over facetime with her. You happily screenshot his reaction, happy to have it to look back on.

As soon as you reach him, it's as if all the nerves you had disappeared. Calm washes over you as he comes to stand in front of you. You can't see the smile he has, but the crinkles by his eyes prove he's just as happy to see you.

"Hi, Harry," you say, your eyes taking him all in.

Harry doesn't hide, he's checking you out, and you're thankful for the mask at the moment, able to hide how bashful you're feeling. "Hello, baby. You look gorgeous. I'm a lucky man."

"Yeah," you swayed side to side, "gave me a reason to dress up."

"Always beautiful, but I'm so glad to see more than just your shoulders." He laughs, and you join him.

"Look pretty, H. I had not seen this cardigan." You reach out, running a finger down over the pastel yellow cardigan that looks to be well-loved. He paired it with a plain white shirt that fits him loosely with Gucci denim trousers that he told you he found a few years ago when he was thrift shopping in London with his mother.

"No, brought it out just for you. Wanted it to match my favorite mask." Although he couldn't see it, you hoped your eyes were doing their job expressing your joy. "Let's put this basket in the trunk. Got a blanket and a few pillows as well as the lemonade."

"And the dessert?"

He chuckles, "and the dessert."

You place everything in the trunk, taking a step back for Harry to close it. He walks you over to your door, opening it for you, you offer a soft thank you, but before you get in, you turn to look at him.

"What is it, baby?"

You stare down at your ribbon-tied wedges before looking up into his piercing green eyes. "Can I have a hug? I just--I'm really happy to see you."

Harry falters for a second before answering, "of course, come here." He's quick to bring you in for a hug, and it feels like home. It's comfortable, and you can't believe you haven't hugged him since February, a good two months ago, when it has honestly felt like a lifetime. "I would have earlier, but when you came out, you truly shocked me with how amazing you looked."

You just hug him tighter, enjoying feeling his strong arms around you. He looks at you smiling. "That was nice." You nod because it was, and if he'd let you, you'd stay in his arms all day.

"Well, shall we go?"

"We shall."

And with that, you were off to your first date with Harry, which would hopefully lead to more.

_____

The drive to the park was short; you unloaded everything from the car once you got there. Harry offers to carry the basket, letting you lead to picking the spot. You walked ahead, glad he brought you to a park you recognized; it's one you liked to walk around during finals week when you were drowning in essays and exams. This was a nice break. On the other side of the park is a lake where you can rent pedal boats, but you were sure they hadn't opened up for business just yet, wanting more of the population to be vaccinated.

You led him to a secluded area laughing when he joked if you were leading him to his murder. Once you reached the clearing, one large tree with lots of shade and a few rose bushes surrounded it.

"It's beautiful here." Harry awed in amazement.

"Yeah, I found it my first year when I was trying to destress; I don't think many people know about it because it's not on the maps."

"Lucky us."

Harry grabs one end of the blanket, helping you spread it on the grass. You set your tote bag on one corner as well as setting down the pillows. As you make your way to sit down, Harry gently grabs your elbow, causing you to turn and look at him; he's holding a bouquet of tulips.

You felt your eyes well up with tears, not used to such a kind gesture; it's been a long time since you've been on a date with someone you really care about, "You got me tulips, H."

You reach forward and cradle them in your arms. "Course I did; I think you deserve all the beautiful things life has to offer."

You set the flowers on top of the basket before straightening up and pulling Harry into a hug. Your arms around his neck, his resting tightly around your waist, "including you," you whisper in his ear, causing him to squeeze you a bit tighter. Harry pulls back, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Let's eat, baby. Know you made something delicious for us to enjoy."

Harry set the food out, and you are sure to hand him the wet wipes to clean your hand before you could begin wanting to be clean and not wanting to venture out to find a restroom. He eyed the sandwiches first, then the veggie rice paper rolls.

"Couldn't decide?"

"Wasn't sure what you'd like. So I gave you two options."

"Too sweet angel." Harry leans in to kiss her cheek.

"Think we ought to take off the mask now." You giggle, sad you didn't get to feel his lips on your cheek.

"Yeah, so comfortable it doesn't really bother me wearing them. I am hungry."

You place your mask in your bag, and Harry puts his mask in his pocket. He opens up both containers and digs into the veggie rolls first. He hums after the first bite, chewing happily. "Delicious," he mutters between chews.

"Can add this peanut sauce to give it more flavor, just a tad bit spicy." He watches you as you pick up and spoon drizzle a bit on top, taking a bite. Harry follows your steps taking another bite, and his eyes go wide at the added flavor.

"Shocked, I've lived all my life without this food."

You laugh, "well, now you don't have to."

He chews happily at your response.

_____

Lunch is filled with little conversation, both praising each other for a well-planned meal. The strawberry lemonade complimenting the food perfectly. He brought a raspberry lemon loaf cake for dessert, and you happily admit you ate two pieces. It tasted so heavily, making Harry promise you to buy more in the future for you. He agreed, stating he'd do anything to make you happy.

"It's nice going out with someone, enjoying the sweet fresh air." Harry comments.

You hum in agreement, "I adore my alone time, but with the right company, it can feel just as perfect."

Harry's cheek turns rosy pink quickly, not at all trying to hide from you. You love that he loves to show how much you affect him.

"It feels normal like we've done this hundred of times already.”

You chuckle, nudging his shoulder. "It's cause we have. Just never called any of them dates."

"So you agree, we've been dating since February," he teases.

"Yeah, I think we can say that."

"When was our first zoom call?"

"Hmm...after class a week after your birthday. Think we worked for an hour and talked about nothing for another."

You look over at Harry loving how the sun reflects off his skin; it makes him look like a gift from the Gods. Harry feels your gaze on him, flashing you a big grin, his dimples on display just for you, because of you.

"We will call February eighth our anniversary," he declares.

You laugh, not a silent one but a full-out belly gripping laugh; you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. Harry sits there confused, not sure where the joke was.

"You alright, baby?" He asks, just a bit concerned.

"That is what you were thinking so hard about; you couldn't figure out a week from your birthday quickly. Took you a good few minutes." You shake your head, trying to catch your breath, tiny giggles still escaping you.

"Oi, no need to be rude."

"Sorry, honey."

"Never claimed to be smart."

"The pretty ones never are," you tease.

"Alright, that's it. I've had enough."

Before you can stop him, he's on top of you, his fingers tickling you from your sides to your thighs. He knows your body getting all your secret spots that make you squirm away from. You almost succeeded in getting one of his hands over your head, but he surprises you by straddling you. You've stopped laughing, but Harry keeps going.

His curls are falling over his head, his eyes shining bright, a new lightness to them. At that moment, you realize how lucky you are, and before you know it, you reach your free hand up and place it on the back of his neck, bringing him down to your lips catching him by surprise.

Harry stays frozen for a second before sinking into the kiss, responding softly, wanting to explore you as he'd been thinking about this moment for months. You love the feel of his lips against yours; you'd happily give up breathing, never wanting to part. Harry tries to pull away, but you chase his mouth, not ready to stop kissing. He smiles against your lips, humming when he places a hand on your cheek, adding more pressure; you're not sure who lets out a moan letting it out into the universe wishing for more, hoping for forever.

You don't get butterflies or fireworks. Instead, you feel the ease of calmness wash over you like when you arrive home after a long day. That's what kissing Harry is like coming home.

You pull back, laying your head on the pillow Harry was wise to bring; you don't try to contain your smile as Harry stares down at you in a look of awe. You run your thumb over his bottom lip-loving how swollen they look thanks to you. His eyes never leave yours; you gasp as he places a kiss on your thumb before taking it in his mouth, sucking it gently; a moan escapes you, surprised at how hot the teasing is getting you.

"You're filthy, honey."

Harry smirks, "just for you, baby."

"Only our first date, H. We aren't going to move fast."

"A makeout isn't too fast for you," he teases.

"Felt just right." You smile, loving the feeling of his weight on top of you as he has not moved from his position, still straddling you.

"I agree."

"Sorry, I didn't ask if I could kiss you. Consent is sexy."

Harry's smile is soft, his eyes flicker to your lips, then back to your eyes, "You hereby have permission to kiss me whenever you please, my love."

"You know all the right things to say to make me puny for you."

"Good to know. Got to keep a mental list."

"What's on there so far?"

Harry smirks, leaning down his mouth right over your mouth; you remember the taste of lemon you felt when you kissed him, and well, you don't try to stop yourself when you attach your lips against his. There's no sweeter feeling, you've decided.

He pulls back, keeping the kiss short, "Know you can't be close to me without giving me a kiss. Know your heart is racing like it might beat out of your chest, and I know you're dying to ask me to be your boyfriend."

"Guess you are smart," you whisper.

He chuckles, nudging his nose against yours, humming as he places a kiss on the top of your nose.

"You know, I was right."

"Yeah, about what, H?" You reach your hand up to run your hand through his curls, brushing them back, giggling as they fall forward again.

"That your laugh sounds better in person. Know it's cheesy but truly music to my ears."

"You nutter!"

"Oi, picking up my slang, are you?"

"Got to, especially when you called that Evan kid a wanker for dismissing my response." You snicker, remembering the moment a few classes ago when you spoke up to give your opinion only for Evan trying to mansplain how women in politics were growing already especially having a female-run as a candidate a few years back. You would have cussed him out, but Harry did it for you. He packed up all your points with his own references. Safe to say, Evan has not spoken up since then.

"Cause he is one. You're the smartest person in the class, and that tosser should not even be in this class. Clearly, hasn't learned one bit since January."

"Settle down, honey. All in the past." You pat his chest a few times, getting his focus back on you. "Got that book you've wanted to read, want to give it a read now?"

"Course, baby. Happy you had it in your collection." He's gotten back into reading now that he seemed to have more time on his hands, and they had been bouncing recommendations off of each other. You had told him to stay off Book Tok because it was the same ten books being promoted by every page. His sister told him to read The Silent Patient, but he couldn't rationalize spending fifteen dollars, and he couldn't find the free pdf. He asked you and told him Amy bought it for you as a gift for feeding her.

"Let me get it out of my bag; you can lay in my lap easier to listen to."

Harry's eyes go wide; you're going to read him. He did not expect that, but he had to make sure. "Going to read to me, darling?"

"If you don't mind." you tuck your hand into your tote bag again, "brought my kindle in case you didn't want to. Won't be sad if you don't want to."

"No, I want you to. Yeah, more than anything. Got the prettiest voice." Harry pecks your lips, pulling back giddy because that's the first time he's kissed you, and well, he has to do it again. Your lips move in sync, the kisses feeling smoother but just as passionate. You break the kiss, playfully push him away, hands-off, letting you adjust yourself before he sets one of the smaller pillows in your lap and lays his head. Your hand is quick to find a place in his hair, thankful you've mastered the one hand reading and page-flipping due to always having a book in your hand growing up.

_____

After reading for a bit, Harry lifts his head from your lap, taking the time to admire you. You kept reading, letting him take you in from this new angle. You stopped brushing his hair instead, allowing yourself to get immersed in the book once again. You giggled, thinking back at Harry's reaction to the opening line of chapter one.

You had just flipped to a new page, ready to start chapter seven, when you saw how fidgety Harry had gotten. He clearly had something on his mind, so you wanted to give him his space; you had only read five words when he spoke, interrupting you.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" Harry blurts, shifting to sit in front of you.

You don't smile, but you know he can see the gleam in your eyes at his words, "Hmmm...will you give me a cute nickname?"

Harry doesn't know what you're doing but goes along with it. "Already do, so yes."

"Will you let me make you more masks?"

"Yes."

"Will you knit me a sweater?"

"I'll knit you hundreds."

You nod, "then yes, I'll be your girlfriend."

"Yeah, you want me to be your boyfriend," Harry teases.

"Dork," you shove his shoulder, causing him to fall back. He gasps in shock.

You laugh, and it's music to his ears; his dramatic response is swallowed as he takes you in. Harry isn't sure where he'd be without you. He takes in the happiness displayed on your face and knows if you could look in a mirror, he'd look just as happy if not more. You are a light in his life.

These last few months have changed everything about him. Harry hadn't really understood what it meant when people said that your partner should also be your best friend. He thought it was cheesy and something to give false hope to others, but with you, he knew it was true.

Starting off as friends built a strong foundation for you both to grow together, and he is forever thankful you took a chance on him.

Harry called it fate, but you well, you think it was all thanks to the zoom gods who set you up in a random break out room not once but twice.

_____

thank you for reading :) I adore you xx

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[honeyhenry]

Sweet as Pie

With some much needed time off, and excitement crisp in the air, you had flown over to Jersey with your husband Henry for Christmas to stay with his family, and they had been delighted to have you both back on his homeland. You settled in to Henry’s old room, unpacking all of the gifts you had brought for his family. You knew his nieces and nephews were going to love you even more when they saw what would be lying for them under the grand Christmas tree in the living room. Secretly, you were their favourite - not that they’d ever tell their poor Uncle Henry.

The large home is tidy, but scattered with family members in every room, all feeling at home in the place where Henry and his brothers grew up. You’d been able to catch up with the relatives you didn’t often see, and promise to spend some quality time together over the holidays.

It was so sweet to watch all the children’s faces light up on Christmas morning. You were glad that you and Henry could be spared an extra few moments in bed, being the only childless couple in the house. Yet moments later, Kal had leapt onto the bed - much to Henry’s annoyance; “down Kal, careful now” -  as soon as he had heard the pattering of his small friends’ feet out in the hallways. And what Kal wanted, you usually gave him.

Which is why, at 6.45am, Kal dragged you and in turn, dragged Henry down to the living room where the rest of the family sat, with the kids lit up like the Christmas tree that their plethora of presents laid under, grinning to their bleary eyed parents who’d barely had a wink of sleep on the cold winter morning.

“You’d think after 6 years it gets easier” you’d heard someone murmur, and so you’d decided to put the kettle on for those poor souls. Luckily for you, 45 minutes later, you’re able to snuggle back into bed with Henry, warming your feet on his legs to annoy him. You kiss the offended pout right off his face, before feeling his beefy arms wrap around your waist. It’s the last thing you had recalled, as you dozed off in his arms only seconds later, feeling his fingertips rub against your hip softly.

------

The kitchen was bustling with about 10 bodies all completing their various tasks; cooking, washing, baking, roasting, timing and tasting. Well, you had kicked your husband out of the kitchen for sneaking a taste of your dessert before it was ready, chastising him out of the door. 

“You can either help properly or go and play with your siblings” you had bargained while he’d grinned, leaning against the doorframe. He raised an eyebrow, looking you up and down like you were a pastry he was keen to ravish himself; “But who is going to compliment the chef?”

With that, you’d folded your arms across your chest, blushing at his words. The cheek of that man was not lost on you, and it still got you every single time. 

And you loved him for it.

------

The meal was a total success. A wonderful soup starter, followed by a small appetiser, and then the most magnificent turkey. Feeding over 20 people - now probably closer to 30 if you were to include the children who were growing up so quickly in front of your eyes - had proven to be difficult, but it was a challenge the family had clearly tackled before.

You had been so excited to prepare the desserts, and present your dish. However, halfway through the day, somewhere between the main course, watching your nephews with their new toys, and the dessert course of the delicious homemade Christmas feast, you’d fallen asleep on the sofa completely tuckered out. Your legs rested on Henry’s lap as he’d covered you with a hand-knitted blanket that he’d once slept with as a boy. Henry’s mother speaks up, careful not to wake you. She has a gleam in her eye, not that you or even Henry notice, too wrapped up in your own cozy sleepy bubble together by the fire.

“Dessert can wait” his mother says to the gaggle of children and adults swarming the living room, “go out and get some fresh air.”

She turns to the children, specifically.  “Do not disturb your Aunt, okay?”

------

Your cheeks are warm as the fire heats the living room, and after a particularly competitive game of rugby with his brothers, nieces, and nephews, Henry quietly checks on you. He had left the room earlier when you had shifted your legs slightly, taking the opportunity to get some fresh air himself. It had indeed been a long day. His brothers had questioned your tiredness briefly, making sure you were well. With the knowledge that you were simply sleepy, they had begun to joke that you obviously just couldn’t keep up with the rest of the Cavills - despite having married into the family for 2 years and been around for the holidays for 4. Henry had promised them that you were fine -  that you still weren’t used to the long trip back to the island for the holidays. 

Not exactly a fib, he’d thought.

Kal was laid beside you, loyal as ever, watching out for anyone who may disturb your rest, sending a rumbling growl towards anyone who approached. Except Henry. 

While checking on you now to make sure you were still comfortable and resting well, he smiled, taking a picture of you wrapped up cosily by the fire, at peace in his childhood home, completely at rest and ease with him and his closest relatives. Petting Kal softly, he thanks him for looking after his mama so well.

“So?”

His mother, he hears. She’s alone for once as there was no one rushing to check for updates on food, no enquiries about the house, or any funny stories woven into a ten minute tale from her grandchildren. She’s alone, with her hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised.

Henry stands up straight. There’s nothing that can wipe the tremendously cheesy grin off of his face. He can’t even speak. Even after dessert had finished, you were the one who would be doing all the talking, the telling, the explaining.

“Mum-”

“Henry. She’s not ill. and i know you’re sensible enough to not be up the whole night with your wife...at least under my roof. So…?”

He looks over at your peaceful form, and then scratches his neck, blushing at being caught out, but also ecstatic that he can finally say something about it.

“She’s eleven weeks. We’re expecting a baby next summer”

With that, his mother almost leaps with joy over to her son, who she hugs closely despite the obvious height barrier. 

“Oh i knew it, I knew it! I’m so happy for you Henry, for you both. I thought, ‘She normally loves that bread for starter’, hm? Oh my boy! A father!”

With her proclamation, Henry finds that he has tears in his eyes as he holds his Mother close, finally glad that it’s not just a little secret between the two of you - well, the two of you and Kal, who had already been a stellar protector and big brother.

“We had planned to tell everyone after dessert…we’ve known for nearly 2 months and it’s been killing me that I couldn’t say. We’ve had to be so careful-“ 

“Henry?” he hears your quiet voice from across the room, as Kal’s collar jingles. He turns to see you sitting up from your nap with Kal booping his nose at your stomach. You’re scratching at his head, thanking him for being such a wonderful boy, while looking up at the two Cavills.

It takes less than a second for you to realise what is happening in front of you. Your jaw drops and louder than your previous call, you exclaim, “Henry you told her?”

“She worked it out! Practically forced it out of me.” he grins, holding his hands up as his Mother pretends to smack his arm.

You stand, watching not to step on Kal or any stray Legos that your nephews have left strewn across the floor, and walk over to hug her. She’s been so caring and kind since you’ve joined the family all those years ago, and you know that she will be an incredible Grandma to your little one. 

Breaking apart from the hug, you find Henry pulling you to him carefully, letting you melt into his side. Kissing your forehead he asks, for your ears only, “Good sleep? No pains? Sickness?” He has a small crease of worry between his brows and you always do your best to soften that small tense area with regular updates and sweet kisses.

“Yeah i’m okay honey” you reassure him, patting your stomach, “this ones growing up a storm in there”. 

And they really are. Henry’s mother cannot believe she’s seeing it, and mostly can’t believe she missed it. You’re already showing, but a large loose sweater -probably one of Henry’s old ones that has since become yours - over your dress, has hidden a sizeable roundness to your stomach that you were excited to finally show.

“How did I miss this!” Your mother-in-law gasps, causing you to grin, and Henry’s chest to puff with utter pride and excitement.

“I know it’s bordering on having too much to eat, but we’ve been hiding it for a couple weeks now. Doctor thinks that baby’s gonna be big. Just like their daddy.” You explain, giving your stomach another gentle rub, surprised to find Henry’s hand there on it already.

If you’d thought Kal was protective, Henry was another thing altogether.

He’s still grinning as you kiss him, before you pull away to speak more to his mother about all the details, especially when you’ll be coming over to Jersey again. Kai follows you closely, making sure you’re staying safe. He’s known that there’s something up with his mama, there has been for weeks, especially with the way his master looks after you now.

Henry, deciding to be sneaky while the two women in his life are currently distracted chatting, takes another taste of the dessert you made, now set out on the kitchen. The worst part is, he thinks he’s got away with it.

He realises he doesn’t the second you smack his hand from the dessert.

“Strike two Mr Cavill! Step away from the pie.”

“And if I don’t?” he raises an eyebrow, watching your reactions as you hold a butter knife in your hand trying to look at least vaguely threatening - failing miserably. “Maybe i’ll strike out tonight, hm?” he continues with that wonderfully mischievous glint in his eye, taking cautious steps towards you. “You look even sweeter than your pie with this little bump here. Maybe I’ll have a taste later after all.” 

Henry’s mother had not been right in her assumptions, for under her roof, you and Henry were not sensible at all.

------------------------------------------------------

please let me know what u think! i am v nervous to post but excited!!!

#henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill writing #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #henry fic #cavillry #henry cavill fluff

[sirthisisa-wendys]

A Head Start: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: it's about time you both got a head start on your vacation.

wc: 1.5k

tw: NSFW!

A Grand 300 Celebration Fic

a/n: y'all. I have been holding this fic close to my chest for a while now, only because I repurposed an old one to fit this ask. I love this fic with my whole heart, and reworking it for Geto and the Fem!Reader was sooooooo much fun. I hope you enjoy it.

“Have you ever experienced New Year’s Eve like this?” Geto smirks, rolling his broad shoulders back so his elbows hung over the yacht railing. He looks around, obviously pleased with his most recent purchase, bought solely for a cruise around the bay on New Year’s Eve. You bring a blunt to your lips, staring out at the water in contemplation. The wind whips your hair around your forehead and you exhale deeply, letting the smell of weed drift away in the sea air. When you look over at the man you had figuratively sold your soul to, he brushes his black bangs out of his pale face to witness your half-amused look.

“I haven’t. It’s not the jet-setting trip you promised me, though.”

“Ah,” Geto snakes his hand around your waist, bringing his lips to your shoulder. “You really wanted to spend New Year’s in a different time zone, didn’t you?” You look up at the man with a fake pout, which makes him return the pout. “Lucky for us,” he leans in, touching your nose with his. “...this little boat will take us to the freeport in Tokyo… where we’ll board a plane and go to Croatia, Bosnia, and Turkey. How does that sound?” You pull back, eyeing Geto carefully as his hands play with the silk bow on the back of your dress.

“Are you serious?” You wonder, and in response, he takes the blunt from your fingers and takes a long drag, watching you with his onyx colored eyes.

“Have I lied to you before?” Geto wonders, lifting a brow to emphasize his query. You felt a warmth creep up your neck and heat up your cheeks at the look Geto gives you, and you wonder if he could read your expression. But he says nothing additional, just gazes off into the sunset as he holds your waist, his fingers still fiddling with the silk.

“Tell me, then - if you’re not lying, that is - what will we do while we’re traveling?” Suguru turns back to you with a deadpan look, squinting for a moment.

“Travel, y/n. There won’t be a single moment of work, calls, or meetings; it’ll be just you and me for two weeks.” He shifts a little, reaching a hand down underneath the short wine-colored dress to touch the space between your legs. “We’ll have all of the time in the world to… explore.” The double meaning brings a smile to your lips, and you let your hands drift to the waistband of his ankle-length pants.

“Could we… get a head start on that?” You breathe, and Geto chuckles, bringing you in for a kiss as an answer. You note he tastes like something sweet and backwoods paper, the tang of weed fresh on his tongue. But you forget all of the tastes as soon as he nips your bottom lip, his own lips traveling beneath your chin. A gasp escaped your lips, and you wrapped your arms around his neck as you fluttered your eyes closed again.

“I want you, y/n,” Suguru whispers against the skin between your neck and shoulder, and a shudder rolls down your spine. “...but I need your permission.” The reminder of consistent and necessary consent pops into your mind like a looming stop sign, and you press a tender kiss to his right temple.

“You have my permission,” you murmur and automatically, Geto lifts his head to look at the stairs leading down to the lower deck.

“Follow me.”

He leads you down the steps and past a metal door that opens up into a quiet living room space. The furnishings were all either cherrywood or cream-colored, like a middle-aged suburban wife’s interior design wet dream. “We’ll come here later,” Geto reassures you, pulling you past the furniture and into a room blocked off by a polished wooden door.

The room - with a massive bed taking up most of the space - has a window that overlooks the waterscape and the setting sun. A bouquet of orchids and what appears to be your passports lay on the table across from the bed, and you take a glance at Geto, who smiles sheepishly.

“I wanted to make sure you saw that I was serious about traveling with you.” You pull him into another kiss, holding his face between your hands as you tumble onto the bed. Geto hitches up your dress in a hurry, pawing at the fabric of your underwear as he rolls it down your legs. “Stand up so I can get this shit off of you,” he pants. You do as he tells you, and he undoes the bow at the back of the dress then unzips you, letting the fabric drop to the floor in a heap.

At the sight of you, he gives a hum of appreciation, then unbuttons his dress shirt sleeves, pushing them up around his forearms. “Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll give you exactly what you need.” Wordlessly, you sit on the bed in submission, and Geto nods, acknowledging you. “Good girl.” He turns his watch up and taps it a few times, setting the timer before kneeling down.

After he kneels down at the edge of the bed, he pushes you back and parts your legs slowly. You lift up a bit to watch him dive open-mouthed into your pussy, his tongue running up and down your slit with precision and care. “You’re so damn wet,” he mentions, and you moan, the sound resonating somewhere deep in your belly, but Geto pays you no mind. He continues to eat you out without relenting, flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit at will. Feeling an orgasm build, you reach down to grab a fistful of his hair, and Geto answers with a guttural sound, the vibrations stimulating you further. When you take another glance down at him, his eyes are already on you, watching your every movement and calculating his next move, as he was prone to do.

He switches up his technique, focusing on the clit instead of your labia, and that only drives you to the edge even more.

“Oh, Geto, please…” You breathe, feeling the scales tipping over into what would be your first--

Geto stops suddenly, and the wave of an orgasm quickly recedes as he stands, taking off his shirt and pants. He tosses them carelessly onto the floor, revealing his rock hard erection and sculpted body; a hungry look settles onto Geto’ face while he strokes his length for a moment, checking his watch.When he positions himself at your opening, you felt the need to feel him filling you up grow exponentially, and you grab at his wrist desperately. “Please fuck me now,” you whine. The bottomless black eyes you’d come to adore flick up to your face, and a stern expression replaces the hunger.

“Let me work, y/n. I will not reward impatience.” Stifling a groan, you run your fingers through your hair and wait patiently as he runs his length up and down your pussy and moans softly. He repeats this over and over again, angling dangerously close to entering you each time. Without warning and with one smooth stroke, Geto pushes inside of you, stretching you until he couldn’t go any further.

“Oh, god,” He breathes before slowly pumping in and out of you, muttering about how tight you feel with pleasure. Geto gently lowers himself onto you and captures your mouth with his. As he kisses you, he pulls your arms over your head, holding both of your wrists with his right hand and increasing his speed. He trails kisses down your neck and rests his forehead on your collarbone, eyes closed as he holds your right leg to your chest.

Before long, you feel another orgasm settling in, and you make it clear by moaning loudly and without reservation. Geto notices, but does nothing to stop you, instead taking your left nipple in his mouth and rolling his tongue around it. He repeats his action on the other side, then lifts up again, letting go of your wrists. You leave your hands where they were as he pushes your legs back, now fucking you so hard that the bed springs began to squeak in protest.

“Mmph, stand up,” Geto pulls you to your feet and switches places with you, sitting on the edge of bed and beckoning you to ride him. You oblige and lower yourself onto his cock, gasping as his entire length fills you again. He stares up at you while you ride him, holding your hips with his firm grip. “This feels so fucking good,” He exhales, closing his eyes as you rock your hips against him.

“I… I’m going to cum, Geto,” you hiss, your hand snaking around his neck to hold him closer.

“Oh, fuck... y/n. Cum for me,” Geto gasps, and you let the orgasm rip through you, driving a hard shudder down your spine and to your toes. The quaking feeling that runs through you sends Geto over the edge, and he groans loudly, shaking as he comes with you. When you both recover from the moment of bliss, Geto opens his eyes and looks at you, his lover.

“Are we going to watch the fireworks later?” You wonder, resting your cheek on his shoulder.

“Fuck the fireworks. I had a whole show right behind my eyelids. Now, get back down here. We’re not done yet.”

#geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen getou #geto suguru #jjk geto #getou x reader #getou suguru #geto smut #jjk smut

[nat-20s]

Wonderful! Au Part 7! (also on ao3 here) another episode only installment, and obnoxiously fluffy! Have fun!

~*~

Martin, tired: Hello everybody! Welcome, or welcome back, to a very low energy episode. We have had, as the kids say, A Week Tm.

Jon, equally tired, but fond: Is that as the kids say?

Martin: I don't know, and perhaps worse, I don't really care. I guess I could ask Jeremiah next time he's over, but I'm not sure if that would actually help.

Jon: Shockingly, I don't think two year olds have their finger on the beating pulse of youth culture.

Martin: Hmm, maybe not. Speaking of Jeremiah, he's part of why the format of this episode is gonna be a bit different than our regular. On top of me dealing with a frankly obscene amount of inventory management, and Jon being swamped with grant writing-

Jon: I never want to look at proposal guidelines again-

Martin: we were on babysitting duty for our favourite neighborhood hellion-

Jon: Hey, Jeremiah is a very sweet kid! I know he's a toddler, but we shouldn't be slandering him anyway.

Martin: One, we're not even using his real name, I don't think that counts as slander, and two, exactly, he's a toddler, he's by default a hellion.

Jon, teasing: This coming from the person that actually wants one?

Martin: I..look, if anything, the last few days have shown we should not be permanent parents.

Jon: But?

Martin:...There's no but.

Jon: I don't believe you! Are you lying for my benefit or the audience's? Because someone spent the last five days wearing one of the largest grins I've ever seen, exhausted as it may have been.

Martin: Okay! Fine, I admit, I liked having a kid around. I still think it would be a bad idea to do it full time, but I dunno. I wish we weren't both only children or something. We would make such good uncles.

Jon: Should I should have taken that teaching job after all?

Martin: Perhaps. After all,

Martin, singsong: An English teacher, is really someone!

Jon and Martin, singing together: If only you, had be-come one!

Jon: Honestly, though, I was considerably underqualified. I'm much more suited to my current job, even if it doesn't have quite the same impact on the "shaping of the next generation" or whatnot.

Martin: Wait, you actually care about qualifications now? When did that change?

Jon: This coming from Mister "master's degree in parapsychology"? And it was probably around the time that the world ended from taking on a workload I was ill-suited for.

Jon:...

Jon: Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Martin: Oh, of course. Definitely nothing literally apocalyptic in our pasts, no siree, nothing to see or speculate about or make weirdly involved forums for here. Uh, anyway, long introduction not so short: Both of us have been averaging about 4 hours of sleep, so any sort of actual research was not on the table.

Jon: If any of you are wondering why we didn't just say that we're both very much worn out and thus we'll be taking a week off, it's because we're both deeply, deeply stubborn.

Martin: It's one of our best shared qualities that has never caused any conflict between us, ever.

Jon: In fairness, sheer stubbornness does account for, what, 75% of the reason that either of us are still alive? And it hasn't caused a major conflict between us in a good three years.

Martin: That's true. We've become a deeply boring, relatively conflict free couple. Which fucking rules, by the way. To all the couples out there: I highly recommend being boring. It is so nice. We've gotten to go to the farmer's market so many times.

Jon: You do love the farmer's market. I would say that it's the access to fresh produce, but I think you just like the attention that one yarn seller gives you. Can't believe you would take advantage of a crush to get discounts on wool. How did I marry such an opportunist?

Martin: Ollie does not have a crush on me. They're just friendly to everyone.

Jon: Bullshit. I certainly never get an extra skein or stitch markers or delicate fabric cleaner tossed in my bag. Actually, I think I've been charged more for committing the crime of having married you before they could.

Martin: I'm..70% sure that's not true, but every sentence we speak, we stray further from even pretending to be on topic. So, to everybody listening, this is the itty bitty episode! Basically, we're only doing small wonders and user submissions. If you want details or backstory for things we like, too bad, come back next week. Jon, I believe you're first this week?

Jon: Oh, right. My first small wonder is cat names.

Martin: Delightful, but unsurprising. Though, I would've expected either more or less specificity. Why cat names as opposed to pet's names in general, or, like, military title names?

Jon: Well that's simple enough. I've simply never met a misnamed cat, even if the name itself wasn't to my personal tastes, and I think that speaks to the wonderful universality of cats.

Martin: This, of course, implies that you have met animals that were misnamed.

Jon: Oh, I have. I once met a papillion dog named Meatball.

Martin: Now I know you don't like food names in general for pets, but are you sure that Meatball didn't suit the dogs personality? I've known some "Meatballs" in my lifetime.

Jon, only half-mock offended: Of course it didn't fit, Martin. She was a lady. A nervous, jittery lady, but a lady nonetheless.

Martin, laughing: And what, you've never met a dignified cat with an undignified name, or vice versa? Would you be okay with our cat being named Meatball?

Jon: I would be upset if our cat was named Meatball, because we named her and we're above that sort of thing, but, technically speaking, she could have been Meatball in another lifetime and it wouldn't have been wrong. You see, all cats are a mix of both extremely austere and little baby idiot.

Martin: Oh, is that the scientific terminology?

Jon: It is. Now, while there's probably some amount of, er, normative determinism or confirmation bias or something that results in a cat with a more dignified name seeming to possess more of that austerity, as all cats have both, any name can, potentially, fit. Hence why it's wonderful.

Martin: I..accept your proposal for now, but I think more research needs to be done. Maybe we should visit the shelter this weekend and test your hypothesis.

Jon: Hmm. I think we may need to visit multiple shelters, actually. A large sample size is necessary for any sort of veracity, obviously.

Martin, imitating Jon tone: Obviously.

Jon: Glad you agree. What's your first small wonder?

Martin: Tofu!

Jon: I..didn't realize you liked that much?

Martin: Well, I don't get it very often since I know you can't stand the texture, even though it is not like 'worse scrambled eggs', and you're a horrible food thief-

Jon: Lies and slander. We readily share. If I'm a horrible food thief, you have committed the exact same, if not worse, crime as myself.

Martin: Well, we are thick as thieves.

Jon, groaning: You're thick as something alright

Martin: Rude! My beloved husband-

Jon: -uh huh-

Martin: whom I love and trust with my most tender of hearts-

Jon: -an oddly cannibalistic turn of phrase-

Martin, badly suppressing laughter: Oh, my god. I want a divorce, then I can put tofu in as many dishes as I like. I'll triple my protein intake.

Jon: It'd never go through. I'll burn the papers. No, wait, I'll burn down the legal offices where the papers are kept.

Martin: Hmm. While my experiences with it have been, uh, varied to say the least, I do have to admit that arson is one of the more attractive crimes of passion. I suppose I'll take you back.

Jon, flat: I'm so very grateful.

Jon, genuine: You do have yet to actually tell me why you think tofu is wonderful, love.

Martin: It's just a good food! It's neutral enough that you can toss it in pretty much anything with a sauce, you can bake it, you can fry it, whatever. Plus it's what? two? Three quid? I spent many years of my life living off the cheapest, saltiest approximation of noodles you could imagine, and half a pack of tofu, a little bit of sesame oil, and some green onions went a long way to both making it more filling and less sad. 

Martin: Plus, I feel like it often gets decried for being something it's not? It's so often viewed as a meat substitute or the vegan alternative option, and so when people try it, they often go in with a false preconceived notion of what it's going to be like, and then end up disappointed. They're all like, 'ugh, this doesn't taste like turkey!' and yeah, of course it doesn't. It's the oatmeal raisin cookie of the protein world, a perfectly good and tasty treat on its own, but if you want chocolate chip, it's not gonna work.

Jon: Martin you don't even like oatmeal raisin. I'm the only one that ever eats them out of the multipacks.

Martin: Well, yeah, but I don't like oatmeal raisin because of its flavor, not because I think it should be chocolate chip and fails. It illustrates my point. Also, just for balance, is your next small wonder oatmeal raisin cookies?

Jon: No, though, maybe one of these weeks. They are good. But no, um, my next small wonder is being married.

Martin, let out a high bark of a laugh: Being married is a small wonder?!

Jon: Small wonders doesn't mean a lack of importance! Or even significance in our lives. Half the time we even end up spending just as much time chattering on about them as the things we actually research. But, yes, I didn't feel like researching the concept of being married. For one, a lot of the history of it is depressing and patriarchal, and for two, it's not something I really feel any need to elaborate on. Being married. I very much enjoy it. I recommend it for anybody that's found someone that they want to marry, and who wants to marry them. I really recommend being married to Martin Blackwood, I think I would enjoy it significantly less if it was to anybody else, but one: we typically try to make the wonderful things in this show  applicable to more than just ourselves, and two: I got there first, so I believe the appropriate thing to say here would be; neener neener and/or everyone else can go suck it, Ollie.

Martin: Well...

Jon: Well, what?

Martin: Saying you got there first is technically not true-

Jon: What?!

Martin, laughing like a bastard: Sorry, sorry! Couldn't resist! Jon, you already know that you're my first real realationship, how would be married before fit that?

Jon: Hence my surprise at the notion! I cannot believe you! I give you my trust, my earnestness, and belief-

Martin [only laughs harder]

Jon: and you throw it in my face for a bit. I take back everything, being married is a nightmare, because sometimes your partner thinks he a fucking comedian and you just have to put up with him because you love him and want to live the rest of your life with him or some such nonsense. Not worth it, if you ask me. My turn to ask for the divorce.

Martin: Babe, hate to break it to you, but both of us are guilty of doing bits that the other doesn't like, it's an integral part of  a healthy marriage, and secondly, you knew who I was long before I proposed. You should've said no when you had the chance.

Jon: Hang on, you proposed?

Martin: Yeah? This isn't part of a bit, of course I proposed. I'm even pretty sure you were there. The whole visit back to Scotland trip? I finally made you a sweater and said it was because we would now be immune to the boyfriend curse?

Jon: No, no, I remember all that, but it wasn't the proposal. It was a reaffirmation of the proposal. We had already decided to get married.

Martin: Well, yeah,, I wasn't just gonna spring that on you, we had had conversations beforehand-

Jon:  No, I mean, I had already proposed. I asked you to marry me a good three years earlier, and you said yes, which is a proposal by any definition that I know.

Martin: Jon, love, darling, apple of my eye, fire of my soul, I mean this in the nicest way possible, what the everloving fuck are you talking about?

Jon: In the ambulance ride when we, uh, moved here. It was the thing I said to you the second I saw your eyes were open.

[An audible pause is left in the recording.]

Martin: That does not count.

Jon: How does it not count?! I asked you to marry me, you very emphatically said yes, that's the de facto definition of an accepted marriage proposal!

Martin: It doesn't count because you were half-delirious with blood-loss, and I had a traumatic brain injury that the hospital was very surprised I made a full recovery from. No court in the world would consider anything we said then more than pain driven ramblings, let alone, I dunno, contractually binding.

Jon: Well, I knew what I was saying well and clear. Just because it was desperate doesn't mean it wasn't sincere. I didn't realize that you weren't as cognizant when you accepted.

Martin, snorting: Yeah, didn't really need to be cognizant to say yes. I've wanted to marry you since the train ride to Scotland.

Jon: Wait, really? Martin, we hadn't even been on a date.

Martin: And yet we were on the lamb together, which I honestly think is more romantic than sitting in some restaurant somewhere trying to get through icebreakers. Also, back up, from your perspective we've been engaged since 2019? What did you think we were doing in the interim?

Jon: Uhh..

Martin: Yes?

Jon: There are people that have long engagement periods, and it's not exactly like we were in any sort of position to get married for awhile. Especially not that first year.

Martin: Okay? And?

Jon: And..I sort of thought you had changed your mind. For awhile. Was rather surprised that you kept living with me, considering that, on the worst nights, I was convinced you were going to storm off and leave me forever any minute now. Hence why your proposal was rather relieving.

Martin: Oh, Jon, love. That is so very ridiculous, and so very you, and so very close to many of my own fears and doubts. Do you have any idea how terrified I was to float the idea of marriage to you? Half the time I was convinced I was just meant to keep you company until you found someone better. And, Christ, we'd, from your perspective, been engaged the whole damn time. Fuck.

[Jon, after a beat, starts laughing. It has a slightly hysterical edge to it. Martin joins in. It takes a minute for the laughter to subside enough for them to speak again.]

Jon: I'm rapidly realizing that our entire romantic relationship would've been, if not more successful, a hell of a lot faster if we weren't both complete fools.

Martin: You're realizing that now? I think I've known that since the CV incident. I've definitely known it since the Lonely.

Jon, with a slightly tired chuckle:Yes, yes, something probably should've tipped me off earlier. Shockingly, observation of our own personal romantic trends is not always a strong suit of mine.

Jon: Anyway, please tell me you have another small wonder, this has gotten wildly of track.

Martin: Since we're talking about marriage anyway, I think my next small wonder is having a shared reference in your wedding vows. Our friends had "I have been, and always shall be, your friend" in theirs, and I made Jon cry with a slightly altered Lord of the Rings quote in ours.

Jon: First off, we were both openly weeping long before that point, secondly, I defy anybody to have been through half of what we have and then have the love of their life look them in the eyes and tell them "Leave you? I never intend to. I am going with you, if you climb to the moon" without at least tearing up.

Martin: There wasn't a dry eye in the audience, either. Granted, the audience was only 20 people, but that was also literally the only time I've seen Eloise show a strong emotion, so I'm pretty smug about it.

Martin, soft: I still feel exactly the same, you know. If you're climbing to the moon, I'll make sure the rope is strong enough for two.

Jon, soft: I know, love.

Jon: Though, to be fair, the moon is also significantly more pleasant than many places we've been.

Martin: God, I hate how much that's true. Look at this barren, oxygenless rock, at least it's not actively trying to kill us. Practically a honeymoon location.

[Martin sighs]

Martin: I am so tired. Let's do the user submissions then take a very long nap.

Jon: Please.

Martin: So, first submission is from Josie; They find it wonderful getting cards from their friends. They say they're lucky to have so much love in their life and have friends that care enough to send them things. That is wonderful Josie! We have a drawer in our house dedicated to every loving card we've ever received since the move, and they're always such a nice reminder of the people in our lives.

Jon: We should really organize that drawer, but, yes, agree with the sentiment. Even the cards from people that are no longer in our lives are lovely, I think. Those connections are very much meaningful for both of us, whether they're active or not.

Martin: That's very true.  Next submission is from Lys, who submits the sound of leaves crunching under your feet in the fall. Ah, that's a classic.

Jon: I just felt myself relax imagining it. I wish it was autumn.

Martin: Don't we all? Alright, for the last submissions, I'm grouping them together as they follow a similar theme. Jadwiga submits the feeling of waking up well into the morning with the sun shining through the window and your cat laying next to you, and Oran submits when a dog falls asleep with its head in your lap.

Jon: I can heartily recommend at least one of those, considering that's how we try to wake up most mornings. The Duchess is a dutiful darling girl who spends every night with us, and she's usually still there when us humans rise.

Martin: I bet you'll agree with the other when I finally convince you to get me a dog for my birthday.

Jon: It hasn't happened yet, so I wouldn't hold your breath.

Martin: But you don't even dislike dogs! You're just as happy to pet them when they pass by as I am.

Jon: Being fine with an animal isn't the same thing as wanting to adopt one for yourself! We don't even know if The Duchess would put up with a dog.

Martin: I bet she would. I bet we could get a big senior dog who's the calmest animal you've ever met with those soft eyes and a little grey on the muzzle and she would cuddle up in an instant. And we did say we should visit a shelter or three this weekend..

Jon: I think you're rather callously taking advantage of my exhausted state, but I suppose we can look. 

Martin: Hell fuckin yeah. So, I think that'll close out the episode, and as we always say at the end, uh, go take a nap and get a dog. Not necessarily in that order.

#wonderful! au #jonmartin #tma #jon sims #martin blackwood #my fic #thank you to everyone that submitted!!! #also; i am offically out of ideas for installments #more may come later but i make no promises!

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers VANDEAD CARNIVAL ;; Present from Mukami [PART 2]

ー The scene starts in the kitchen

Yui: Okay...The oven is preheated.

( ...Once the tart crust finished baking, I’ll pour the custard cream inside. )

( Then after putting plenty of Yuma-kun’s homegrown fruits on top, it’ll be ready. )

( I just have to wait for it to finish baking now, so I suppose I could go check up on the others... )

Selection

→ Check up on the nearby duo

Yuma: Ow!!

Yui: A-Are you okay, Yuma-kun!?

Yuma: Aahn? When did I ask for yer concern?

Yui: B-But...Your finger’s bleeding! We have to clean the wound and disinfect it right away...

Yuma: Aah? You’re fussin’ way too much. A lil’ saliva will do the trick just fine, geez. ...Nn...

Yui: ( Will he be okay...? )

Yuma: Oi, Sow...Don’t be starin’ my way. You’re distractin’ me...

Yui: I-I’m sorry...! Um...I just thought there might be something I can help with...

Yuma: There isn’t.

Ruki: Yuma, don’t be so harsh. You haven’t been making much progress this whole time. I’m sure there’s some tasks you can give her.

Yuma: Ugh...That’s not true...

Ruki: Don’t lie. There aren’t enough ingredients for the soup. If you can’t cut these vegetables, I’m putting someone else in charge.

Yuma: Ah, ya can’t! I’ll cut these!

Yui: ( I can tell he’s really motivated... )

( I wonder what he’s making...? )

( Ah...This scent coming from the pot... )

( It’s consommé...! )

Um, Yuma-kun? I’ll help out where I can!

Yuma: Fuck off!! There’s nothin’ for ya to help me with!!

Yui: ...Sorry...

Ruki: Yuma. Ask for help just for today. You’re going to cut these vegetables?

Yuma: ...Yeah, that’s the plan but it’s not really workin’ out as I’d like.

Yui: ( There’s several incisions... )

( I wonder if he’s trying to cut them into a certain shape...? )

Yuma-kun, are you cutting these in shapes?

Yuma: ...Shapes.

Yui: ...?

Yuma: Are you deaf!? I said star shapes!!

Yui: Star...shapes...?

Yuma: What!? Is it that weird I want to cut them into damn stars!?

Yui: N-No, it’s not strange at all. I’m just a little surprised, that’s all...

Yuma: ...We looked at them over at the deli counter when we went shoppin’, remember? Heart and star shapes...

I want to try that as well! Get it now!?

Yui: Y-Yeah.

Ruki: Yuma, stop losing your temper while holding a kitchen knife.

Also, it doesn’t matter if they’re shaped like stars or not, just cut them regularly.

Yuma: I’m strugglin’ ‘cause I can’t do that!

Yui: ( Honestly, it’s kind of a rare sight to see Yuma-kun get so serious about cooking... )

( Also, when I think he’s cutting them into stars, I can’t help but find that kind of cute! )

Ruki: Yuma. You’re being laughed at.

Yui: ...!!

Yuma: Aah!? What’s so damn funny, huh!?

Yui: I-It isn’t! I just thought everyone would be happy if they were star-shaped!

( I’m sure chaos will break loose if I call him cute... )

Yuma: Hah! That’s exactly why I’m tryin’ to cut these carrots into stars!

Ruki: It won’t make a difference in taste though.

Yuma: Ya eat with yer eyes too, right!?

Ruki: But there’s no point if it gets in the way of actually completing the dish, right?

Yui: W-Wait! I know a good hack!

( I feel as if they’ll start a discussion if I leave these two be now... )

Yuma: Oh...! For real!?

Yui: Yeah!

Um...It’d be a piece of cake if you have cookie cutters.

Yuma: Ahー Now that ya mention it, I’m pretty sure we have some of those layin’ ‘round?

Yui: Really?

( I’m honestly a little surprised we’ll easily find some cookie cutters in this house’s kitchen... )

Yuma: Let’s just say Azusa likes to use those for his own pleasure.

Yui: ( ...What on earth is he doing with them...? )

Yuma: Whatcha gettin’ all down for? Don’t worry. They’re still unused.

Yui: That’s not the problem!

*Rustle*

Yuma: Here, this is what you mean, right?

Yui: Yeah! It should be easy with these!

You cut the carrots into slices first and then use the cookie cutter to cut out the shape.

Yuma: Heehー I’m pretty sure I can pull that off on my own. No need to help me.

Yui: Eh? ...I-I’ll help out as well!

Yuma: Well, Ruki’s been on my case as well, so I guess I’ll leave those veggies up to ya.

Yui: Yeah, thanks. I’ll carefully cut them.

Yuma: ‘Course! These are the veggies I poured my heart and soul into after all!

*Chop chop chop*

Ruki: You’re finally providing the ingredients, it seems. I’m sure I’ll be able to create a nice-tasting dish with these.

Yui: These vegetables make a big difference after all, don’t they?

Ruki: Exactly.

*Chop chop chop*

Yui: ( ーー There we go. I guess we finished chopping everything up for the soup? )

Ruki-kun, can I put them inside?

Ruki: Yeah, I’ll leave that up to you. Yuma, how are those star-shaped carrots looking?

Yuma: Perfect! It’d be borin’ to just put them in the soup, so I made enough to sprinkle on top of the salad as well!

Ruki: ...Do you like them?

Yuma: Yeah! It’s kind of fun to pop them out one after the other! I wonder if there’s anythin’ else I can cut with these?

Yui: Then let’s make cookies next time! I’m sure you’ll be able to put those to great use!

Yuma: Why ‘later’? We still have time to make some, no? 

Ruki: ...Right. It should be fun to have one additional dish.

Yui: Then, for the recipe, it’s in this book so...

Yuma: Oh! I’ll get to it then!

Ruki: Seems like Yuma really took a liking to cutting out shapes. Well, I guess we can let him have his fun.

Yui: Fufu, right...!

Ruki: Well then, shall we taste the soup? ...I’m curious.

Yui: ( Yuma-kun is having fun, but Ruki-kun seems to be enjoying himself as well. )

Ruki: ...

...

...What? If you have the time to stand there watching me, then start moving those hands already. Get on with your own task.

Yui: Y-Yeah...Right. Sorry. However...

Ruki: ...?

Yui: U-Um, I’m curious about the taste of the soup as well...So I was wondering if you’d let me have a little sip?

Ruki: ...Be my guest. However, it’s just average. Something is missing...

We need to think about the balance with the other dishes as well. I can’t make the taste any richer. Should I add more water...?

Yui: Hm...You’re right. I do think it is plenty delicious already, but...

Ruki: Nobody asked for your opinion, but I suppose I’ll let you think about it if you want to.

Yui: ( Hm, let’s see...It might be good to draw out the flavor of the vegetables a little more. )

Ruki: Should we add more acidity from the tomatoes?

Yui: Ah, wait. In that case, why don’t we try adding a bit of lemon juice?

Ruki: Lemon juice...? It would work the same in terms of adding acidity, I suppose...

Yui: They’re fresh vegetables, so I feel like it’s adding a lot of sweetness.

Ruki: ...I see. I suppose I’ll try adding some then.

Yui: Yeah! What do you think...?

Ruki: Not bad. Seems like it was a clever suggestion coming from someone like you. Want to try it?

Yui: Can I? Thank you!

...Yeah, it’s delicious!

Ruki: Right? I’m looking forward to serving this to the others as well.

Yui: ( Ruki-kun looks happy. I hope everyone else will like it too... )

Ruki: I suppose I should lower the heat so it doesn’t overcook. Okay, next up’sーー 

Yuma: Say, it slipped my mind for a sec, but...

But what are we doin’ with this turkey?

Ruki: Aah, that one. I bought it because it’s a staple of any Christmas feast, however...

Yui: ( They’re both looking at... )

Me!?

Ruki: You’re the one who brought it up, so I assume you know how to prepare it?

Yui: Ah, yeah. For the most part...

Yuma: ‘Kay. We’ll leave this bad boy up to ya then.

I’ll get back to my cookies.

Ruki: Good idea. It’d be a waste of time for all three of us to work on the same dish. You should do it.

Yui: ( ... )

( I feel as if this was kind of pushed on me... )

*TIMESKIP*

Ruki: ーー We’re pretty much done. How’s your chicken looking?

Yui: Yeah, I think it’ll be okay...Yuma-kun, how’s the cooking time?

Yuma: It’s lookin’ hella good. Smells nice from the herbs, no?

Ruki: ...It definitely triggers the appetite. Okay, let’s get to plating them.

Yui: ( Thank god. I was honestly a little worried when they left it up to me. )

I’ll put out the plates then!

Ruki: Yeah, thank you.

Also, I’d like to carry all finished dishes to the dining room if they’re done with the decorations over there.

Yuma: Speak of the devil.

ー Kou and Azusa enter the kitchen

Kou: We’ve come to check up on you guys~ How are things looking on your end? ...Wait.

Waah! It smells great here! Seems like you guys safely got everything ready in time as well~

Yui: Yeah, we just need to put everything on the plates and carry them to the dining room. How are the decorations looking?

Azusa: Just fine...Kou said that we should...make the final touches together...

Ruki: The final touches...? I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but I suppose we should get all the food ready first.

Yui: Yeah!

→ Go to the dining room

ー The scene shifts to the dining room

Kou: Ah, M-neko-chan! Did you come to help us out? I’m so glad~!

Yui: Yeah! I came here hoping there was still something I could help out with but...It seems like you’re almost ready with the preparations.

Kou: Pretty much! We’d get scolded by Ruki-kun if we slack off after all!

Yui: Fufu, good point. You have to finish before they do, or the food will go cold after all.

The table looks completely different from usual as well. Just a few hours left till we can get this Christmas party started!

Azusa: Say, Eve? Am I doing it right? I’m lining up the stuff we bought today. Tell me if I made a mistake, okay...?

Yui: Don’t worry! You didn’t make any mistakes.

( The Christmas-colored table mats are so cute! )

( The napkins placed at every seat are lovely as well. And above all... )

( Seeing those candles kind of takes me back to the Mass at Church. )

Azusa: Is something the matter? 

Yui: Ah, no. I’m just looking forward to spending Christmas in such a wonderfully decorated room.

Azusa: I’m glad you like it...

*Cling*

Azusa: ...Fufu, this is the last one. The table has been all set...

Yui: All of the silverware has been polished to perfection. Did you do this too?

Azusa: Yeah. It’s especially important to sharpen the knives, or they won’t cut as well, right?

Yui: Sounds like something you would think of.

Kou: Hm. Props to you for getting all of M-neko-chan’s praise, Azusa-kun.

Yui: ...Kou-kun? Is something wrong?

Kou: Nn~ I’m just a little jealous of Azusa-kun.

Yui: Eh? J-Jealous?

Kou: Fufu, just a little bit? You’re only giving him compliments after all.

Yui: You did an amazing job too. You put together the Christmas tree, right?

Kou: Yeah, exactly~ Fufu, it really does feel nice to get praised by you!

That being said, I’m still in the middle of decorating it though.

Azusa: Is that so? In that case, I’ll help out. I’m done with my work after all.

Yui: Decorating the tree, right? I’ll lend a hand too!

Kou: Okay! Let’s decorate it all together then.

Azusa: The tree...It looks prickly...

Yui: Fufu, it really does!

Azusa-kun, you hang ornaments on the branches like this.

Azusa: I wouldn’t mind if the tree decorated me with its needles.

Kou: Pfft! Azusa-kun...Geez! We obviously can’t let that happen.

Yui: E-Exactly, Azusa-kun!

Azusa: ...Is that so? That’s a little disappointing. I’m sure that having my whole body stabbed by those needles is a pain I can only experience today...

Kou: I don’t mean to judge you for your personal preferences, but today you can’t do that.

Azusa: I couldn’t have my knife...And I’m not allowed to stab myself with the tree either...Is Christmas really supposed to be fun?

*Rustle*

Yui: Azusa-kun, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it! Christmas has to be a precious time you spend with family after all...

Azusa: Eve...

Yui: ( Ah, I grabbed his hand in the spur of the moment, but... )

I’m sorry. Um...I just want you to understand. I’m sure it’ll be fun, so let’s try and forget about pain for today?

Azusa: ...Sure. If you insist...

Kou: Haah, thank god. Well then, let’s get back on track and decorate the tree!

*TIMESKIP*

Azusa: Hey, look. This soft, fluffy padding. If you put it underneath your mouth, it looks like a white beard.

Yui: Fufu, you’re right. You look like Santa Claus right now.

Azusa: Santa...Claus?

Yui: Yeah. Santa Claus comes to visit on his sleigh every year on Christmas day, you see.

Then he gives presents to all good children.

Azusa: Heeh...

I’ve never met him but...I see...Only to good children, huh...?

Kou: Pretty sure nobody in this household qualifies~ (1)

Well, getting our hands on what we want with brute force fits us much better anyway, don’t you think so, M-neko-chan~?

Yui: ( Um... )

Azusa: Kou is right...

Yui: Y-You too, Azusa-kun...!?

Azusa: Fufu...

Yui: ( I feel as if I shouldn’t linger on this topic for too long... )

U-Um...Kou-kun? Could you put this on the tree for me?

Azusa-kun, you should continue decorating as well, okay...?

Kou: Fufu, right! Right now we have to stick to the Christmas mood!

Azusa: What should I do with this cotton padding then?

Yui: Ah, right. It’s something meant to mimic snow, so you have to tear it up and sprinkle it across the branches.

Azusa: Okay, gotcha.

Kou: Can I just put these bells and snowman ornaments wherever I want?

Yui: Yeah, they don’t have a set place or anything. I’ll leave it up to your personal taste.

( I should get to decorating as well. )

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ( ...Every year, I would always decorate the tree by myself instead of Father since he was so busy. )

( However, this year... )

...

Kou: What’s wrong, M-neko-chan? Your hands have stopped moving?

Azusa: Is something bothering you?

Yui: ( I’m decorating with everyone. Fufu, I’m kind of happy. )

No, it’s nothing. Let’s put on the lights once we’re finished with the ornaments!

Kou: Roger! I’m so excited to put the lights on~ They’re the thing I had the most trouble choosing at the store.

Yui: I see.

Kou: We chose them together. Ruki-kun has that cool image so he’s black, no?

Azusa: Yuma is orange...right?

Kou: Exactly! We chose our own favorite color.

And this light pink is you! Fits you perfectly, no?

Yui: Waah! I’m so happy! ...Thank you!

Azusa: Fufu, I’m glad you’re happy.

Yui: Let’s put them on then.

( Covering the whole surface... )

( ... )

( ... )

( Yeah, this should do...! )

Azusa: I finished adding the cotton decorations.

Yui: I’m done over here as well!

Kou: The ornaments are looking perfect as well! In that case, let’s test whether the lights work or not.

Yui: Yeah! Good idea.

Kou: Here we go! Lights on!

*Click*

Yui: Wah...How beautiful. There’s different colors lighting up.

Kou: We made the right choice! I’m looking forward to enjoying these all together!

Azusa: Yeah, it’s really...pretty.

Kou: Right~? I can’t wait to show Ruki-kun and the others!

Yui: ( Huh? But I feel as if something is missing. I wonder what...? )

( We put plenty of ornaments and lights on the tree... )

Kou: Hm...? What’s wrong, M-neko-chan?

Yui: Ah, yeah...I feel as if it’s not quite right yet...

Kou: Could it be this, perhaps?

Yui: Ah! The big star you put on the very top of the tree!

Azusa: ...Once we add that to the tree...It’ll become even more beautiful, right? Let’s put it on, Kou...

Kou: Nu-uh~ This is a special star, so I thought it’d be better to put it on once all five of us have gathered here together.

Azusa: ...I see. Yeah...Good point.

Yui: In that case, let’s go check up on them once we’re done here.

ー Ruki enters the room

*Thud*

Yui: Ah...

Ruki: I’ve come to check up on your process. Are you done with the decorations?

Azusa: Yeah, we just finished. What do you think?

Ruki: ...Yeah, it looks beautiful. The three of you really tried your best.

Kou: Hooray! Nothing quite boosts one’s self-confidence like a compliment from Ruki-kun!

Azusa: Yeah, me too...I’m very happy.

Kou: Say, Azusa-kun, M-neko-chan? Can you both raise your hands for a sec?

Azusa: What...?

Yui: ...?

*Tap*

Yui: Kyah!?

Azusa: Wah! W-What was that...?

Kou: A high five! It’s a way to celebrate a shared success! I’m looking forward to Yuma-kun’s reaction as well~

Azusa: Yeah...I put Yuma through a lot of trouble earlier...So I hope he’ll like it...

Yui: I’m sure he will! I’m excited.

Ruki: There’s no shame in rejoicing, but there’s still some work left. We’ll carry the food here. Lend me a hand.

Yui: Yeah!

( I’m sure the crust should be about done by now as well... )

( I’ll go finish it by adding the custard and fruits! )

*TIMESKIP*

*Thud*

Yui: This should be the final plate of food, right?

Ruki: Yeah. We’ve carried everything here. Yuma, pour our drinks.

Yuma: Already on it.

*Cling*

Yui: ( The candles have been lit and there’s a warm buffet laid out. The room is decorated as well... )

Kou: Haah~ Looking good, don’t you think~? Seeing all these different dishes lined up on the table~

Azusa: Looks delicious...

Yuma: It doesn’t just ‘look’ good. I can promise ya the taste won’t disappoint either. Ya better look forward to it!

Kou: Geez, you’re way too excited, Yuma-kun.

I can’t wait to try this cake loaded with fruit you made either.

Yui: Really? I’m glad to hear that.

Ruki: You two gave it your best shot as well. The elaborate decorations help lighten the mood up as well.

Yuma: Hell yeah. When the room is decorated this way, I immediately get those ‘today’s a special day’ vibes.

Altho it still feels a little weird for us Vampires to celebrate Christmas.

Ruki: Haha, you have a point.

It may be strange for us Vampires, but this day only comes once a year. It shouldn’t hurt to celebrate every once in a while, right?

Kou: I appreciate all the praise, but we’re not quite done yet~

Yuma: Aahn? Whatcha mean?

Azusa: We have to put the biggest star on the very top of the tree.

Ruki: ...? Why did you not put it on yet?

Kou: Eeh~? I mean, this is such a rare occasion, so I wanted all of us to be here and witness its completion.

Yuma: I see. Sounds good? I don’t dislike that way of thinkin’.

Azusa: Well then, Kou. Here. Put it on top.

Yui: ( Azusa-kun is handing the star to Kou-kun... )

Kou: Thank you, Azusa-kun. Well then...Here, M-neko-chan~

Yui: ...Eh?

Kou: None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for you after all.

So I want to leave this up to you!

Yui: No way...Are you sure I can put it on?

Ruki: Don’t sweat the details. If you don’t put that on, we can never get the party started.

Yuma: Oi, Sow. Get on with it.

Azusa: ...Put it on with your very own hands.

Yui: Thank you guys. Well then...

*Rustle*

Kou: Ready? Lights on!

*Click*

Ruki: Hooh...

Yuma: Wow! What’s this? I didn’t know these trees light up!

Azusa: ...I like Christmas.

Yui: ( How pretty. I could gaze at it forever... )

Kou: Well then, we’ve finished decorating so let’s get to our seats and eat now!

Yuma: Yeah! Nothin’ like enjoyin’ a meal surrounded by those shimmerin’ lights!

ー Everyone sits down at the table

Ruki: Oi, Yui. You should sit down as well.

Yuma: Geez, ya slowpoke! Whatcha doin’? Hurry up and get yer ass over here.

Kou: Come on, we’re going to get started without you, M-neko-chan!

Azusa: Eve, hurry...Everyone already took a seat.

Yui: Ah, yeah, wait! I’ll be there in a sec...

*Cling cling*

Everyone: Merry Christmas.

Yuma: ‘Kay! Time to chow down!

Ruki: Thank you for the meal.

Kou: I’m digging in~!

Azusa: ...Let me have a taste...

Yui: Thanks for the meal!

Kou: Mmh~! Yuma-kun’s vegetables never fail to amaze me!

Yuma: I’m the one who grew them, so they’re obviously gonna be delicious!

Azusa: ...Nom, nom.

Ruki: I’m glad you’re all enjoying it.

Kou: Although I’m a little curious about these oddly-shaped vegetables.

Yuma: The taste’s still the same so whatever!!

Ruki: Yuma, don’t shout too loud.

Yuma: Che...Those are the duds. There’s some proper stars in there as well.

Kou: ...These are supposed to be stars!?

Ruki: Right. Yuma shed blood, sweat and tears to make those.

Azusa: ...The fruit tart you made is delicious. The crust is crisp...

Yui: I’m glad to hear that. Yuma-kun is the one who grew the fruits on top as well.

Azusa: Yuma is amazing. I don’t think I could ever grow vegetables...

Ruki: Yuma is great at taking care of things after all. Why don’t you try looking after someone else as well for a change?

Azusa: ...Look after someone else...?

Yui: ( I’m honestly having trouble picturing that... )

Yuma: In that case, why don’t you let him take care of you, Ruki?

Ruki: ...!

...Azusa, forget what I said just now. Understood?

Azusa: Yeah, sure...

Kou: Ahaha! This is so much fun. Hey, M-neko-chan, thank you!

Yui: ...Eh?

Kou: I’m thanking you for teaching us about Christmas.

It’s our first time celebrating such a fun event, so we’re all in high spirits!

Yui: ...I should be the one saying thank you. I thought I would be spending the day alone...so I felt a little down.

However, I’m really happy you all worked together to create such a fun Christmas for me. Thank you, everyone...

Yuma: Hah, we didn’t do this for ya or anythin’. We only went through with it ‘cause it sounded fun.

Yui: I’m still glad regardless. For letting me join your Christmas party.

Yuma: I mean, ya are kind of a bother to us, but did ya really think we’d leave ya out?

Kou: Ah~ Yuma-kun’s flustered~!

Yuma: Haah!? Why would I get flustered!?

Ruki: You’re red all the way to your ears. Why don’t you be honest with yourself?

Yuma: You too, Ruki!?

Ruki: Hmph...My bad. Seems like I’m having a bad case of ‘the slip of the tongue’ today.

Yuma: Che...!

Ruki: Yuma, cheer up. We’re actually spending Christmas as a family.

Azusa: Exactly...

Kou: Me too! Food tastes so much better when you get to enjoy it without being upset!

Yui: ( I didn’t think it would be so fun to spend time with everyone like this. )

( Huh...? I just thought ‘fun’... )

( Right. At some point, the time I spend with the Mukami family must have grown dear to me... )

Kou: What are you grinning for?

Yui: Um...This may sound strange, but I thought it’s fun to spend time with you guys.

Azusa: ...If you’re happy...then so am I.

Ruki: I thought you were an odd human, but you’ve exceeded that point...You are basically being held hostage after all. 

Yui: Right. I know it’s weird but...

Kou: You’re really living up to your name~ Although that’s exactly what makes you cute!

Yuma: Heh...If we ever hold a Christmas party again, ya better help out too. 

No way in hell I’m wastin’ my time makin’ some cake, so I’ll leave my fruits in yer hands.

Also, we need someone to make the cookies.

Yui: Thank you...! I better practice a bunch in preparation for that day!

Ruki: Let’s leave it at that. The food we worked so hard on will get cold.

Kou: Ah, Azusa-kun you’re adding spices again~ You shouldn’t ruin the taste of the food. 

Azusa: ...Just a sprinkle. I want to make this an even more fun experience...

Ruki: Haah...Can’t you guys at least enjoy a meal in silence?

Kou: But this is what suits us best, don’t you think?

Yuma: It’d be kind of creepy if things were all quiet.

Ruki: ...Right. I suppose this is quite tame for a Vampire’s holy night.

Yui: ( I’m truly glad I was able to have such a fun Christmas... )

( I wish I’ll be able to experience this sight once more somedayーー )

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) ‘NG’ is a term which has recently picked up in popularity in the Japanese language. It is an abbreviation of the English phrase ‘no good’ and is used to refer to things which are forbidden or don’t qualify.

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← [ Part 1 ]

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #vandead carnival #ruki mukami #kou mukami #yuma mukami #azusa mukami #vcpresentfrommukami #diabolik lovers translation

[dizzydancingdreamer]

The Servant and The Prince | One

I did it-- I wrote something. Was it what everyone wanted? Gods no. But it is something. So do enjoy my lovelies-- a break from my not so regularly scheduled content.

Description: This is very much a Cinderella trope because I cannot help myself and I am in love with Loki 

Pairing: Loki x Female!Reader, third person as I may adapt eventually with an OC 

Warnings: violence but very minor, emotional abuse, some strong-ish language

Tags: Angst but you can imply fluff 

Word count: 3.8k

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Master List

“Did you pack my dress!” A shrill voice assaults her eardrums as she scurries towards the door.

It comes from a tall, thin, young woman. Her face and fingers are boney, her blonde hair falling in perfect waves down her back. The faintest aroma of honeysuckles and violets wafts off her creamy skin. She is beautiful, her step sister Anna. At least in theory. The sneer on her cherry lips and the hatred in her cerulean eyes, unclouded and accusatory, can’t be hidden by any length of silky dress or ruby lipstick, though. She is ugly, even if just on the inside.  

Y/n almost drops the bags in her hands- almost. She only flinches inwardly. She is used to the constant demands. Clean the house, cook the meal, wash my clothes. This and that and more. So much more. She’ll never flinch though. No matter what. That is a promise she made to herself too long ago.

“Yes milady. It is already in the carriage alongside the rest of your requested belongings. Is there anything else I can do for you before we leave?” Her own voice is gentle in comparison; a breeze trying to hold its own against a tornado.

Anna’s sneer deepens and she huffs, spinning on her heel, her dress spiraling around her in a show of pink tulle. She does not say anything as she storms away, most likely on her way to her mother’s ornate carriage. That’s another thing that is more beautiful on the inside than out. If only everyone else knew that Y/n’s step family is poorer than dirt. Estrid, Anna’s mother, hides it well under the last remains of her father’s hard earned money. Gold encrusted carriages and a large home and clothing dripping in jewels. He is gone though, Y/n’s father, and the money will soon be completely gone as well. If only people glanced a little further and saw her dress- not terribly tattered but hand sewn out of the plainest fabric- and the overwhelming lack of staff in the big home. The signs are all there, sitting in plain sight. 

That is exactly the reason Y/n is loading the carriage- a last ditch attempt for her step mother and step sister to rise back to the wealth they once enjoyed. There is to be a ball. A royal ball. Apparently it is supposed to be much grander than the solstice festivals her small village holds. She always thought those were magnificent; the dancing and the feasts. She loved attending them before her father had died. He would take her and her mother every year and they would find their seats under the stars, eating and dancing to their heart’s desire. Her chest squeezes painfully; she misses them both dearly. Now that they are gone those few days of the year are her only escape- the nights where she can pretend she is anything but a lowly servant. 

She blanches wondering how much grander the ball will be. Surely it will be more than turkey under the stars and the ribbon dances of her youth. It will be in the castle- in a ballroom bigger than her house and the neighbours combined. Bigger even. She has never been in a ballroom. Sometimes the village hall holds weddings but they are small and serve vegetable stew and play music composed of fiddles and flutes. All the things she is most familiar with. The castle will have things she does not understand. Clothes worth more than her life and the richest foods and music that is so intricate that she wonders if her ears will be able to withstand it. She has heard stories of how wonderful it is- and how magnificently out of her element she will be.

Y/n sighs, pulling her shoulders straight and hiking the bags further up her body. This is no time for dawdling- there is no time that can be wasted now. She drags herself and the bags out the door, sparing a quick glance over her shoulder at her family home. It used to be filled with warmth. The kind that comes with baking bread and knitting beside an open fire and laughter. Now the halls are bare. Almost all traces of her mother and father are gone. She wears them across her chest in her mothers old leather satchel. Along the side of the bag, little green Dahlias are sewn into the worn material. She brushes her finger over the side, taking a deep breath. Maybe the ball will be a new adventure- even if she is not to attend. She will still be visiting the capitol. 

“By Odin, what are you doing? We have to go now or we will miss the opening festivities! Move you little wench!” 

Estrid’s nasally voice sounds from behind Y/n seconds before a hand connects with her back, shoving her forward. The bags on her shoulders and arms add to the momentum from the push, the uneven weight more than enough to have her stumbling over her feet. She tries to catch her balance, rushing down the steps as though being led by the bags themselves, but it is useless. Her heel catches on the last step and she falls backwards, her back connecting with the cobblestones, her elbow piling into the stone step. White hot pain blossoms through her body, pooling like fire in her injuries. She swallows the scream in her throat. It tastes like iron on her tongue- like eating the burnt chips left in the pot after the meals are finished being served. It tastes familiar. 

A red heel stomps next to her, crunching on the cobble stone the same way her spine had. It lands inches away from her hand, narrowly missing her pinky. Y/n looks up, her features as schooled as possible, greeting Estrid with a bow of her head. Even that small action causes pain to spike through her lower back and she has to hold her breath to keep from crying out. She does not look at her step mother for more than a few seconds- she knows better than to do any such thing- but it is enough time to catch the familiar sneer. It is the same one she has passed on to Anna but more hateful. Honed. Estrid has had years to perfect her evilness, even if she does not look a day over thirty. She too is beautiful in her own dark way.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” Elstrid spits down at Y/n, already on her way to the carriage as she passes by the crumpled girl. “It is as though you are trying to ruin your sister’s chance for happiness. You can never just be grateful, can you? It must always be about you. How pathetic.”

Y/n could laugh. She can almost feel it there in the base of her throat, bubbling with the scream and cries which are also locked away. Neither are forgotten yet- they never are. They just build and build and build like the wind that blows through her village in the spring, gaining enough speed to wipe out entire fields of crop. Now there is laughter on top as well. The cruel kind that makes her insides twist and burn. 

What a perfect way to describe how she feels; pathetic. She forces herself to her knees, followed quickly by her feet as she gathers the bags, mulling over the word. Pathetic. She hauls them onto her shoulders once again, trying her hardest to ignore the way her back and arm aches and the flood of fresh tears that rush to her eyes. She loads the bags into the back of the carriage, nodding at the driver. He looks at her with pity but remains silent as Estrid climbs into her plush seat. The word rings again, louder. Pathetic. 

Y/n tugs the satchel across her body as she climbs onto the back of the carriage, folding her cloak over her lap. Yes, indeed she feels pathetic, cast to ride to the capitol backwards with her skin exposed to the elements and her hair doomed to be a windblown mess. Pathetic does not even begin to cover everything she feels in this moment. If her step family is poorer than dirt than she must be something even worse than dirt as well. She feels so at least. 

Somehow, though, beneath it all, she also feels a touch hopeful. She is going to the capitol, after all. Her fingers scratch over the green Dahlias, thinking back to the night her mother had sewn them. 

“Little dove did you know that you are like a Dahlia?” Her mother’s voice was sweet and soft- the kind of voice that made Y/n want to lean in until she could feel the words in her soul.

“What do you mean, mama?” She was not really asking to hear the answer, rather speaking in order to hear her mother keep speaking. 

The glow from the fireplace warmed Y/n’s cheek as she leaned further. Her mother smelled of yeast and berries. She could still taste the jam on her lips, warm and sweet from desert. Strawberry pie was her mother’s specialty. The warmth combined with her full belly made her eyes close slightly, her body sagging against her mother’s legs.

“You are so strong my little dove. You are so soft and so elegant,” her mother’s hand smoothed over her cheek, her fingers as soft as silk. “But you are so powerful too, I can sense it. You are overflowing with it and kindness. So much kindness. How did I create such a magnificent little girl, hmm?”

Y/n giggles when her mother tickles under her chin lightly, pulling her hand away to continue on the pattern. Her stitches are meticulous and perfect- just like her mother. She watches as the vibrant green thread weaves below the fabric before reappearing. It happens over and over again, disappearing and reappearing like a little trick. She always loved tricks.

“Why are the flowers green, mama? I have never seen any green flowers in the meadow.”

It was true. There were pinks and blues and the most wonderful oranges. Never greens though. Only the stems were green.

“Oh my darling, you will one day. They do not grow here. They grow in the capitol by the hundreds, though. They surround the streets, growing high into the sky. They are beautiful, my little dove. Just like you are. You will see them one day, I promise you.” 

Y/n blinks away the image of her mother, letting a few of the tears drop as she does so. Nobody can see her here so it is okay now. It is times like these, in the midst of the worst and best moments of her life, when she misses her mother the most. She would do anything for one more gentle hug. One more whiff of berries and rising bread. She shifts on the stiff seat, her spine jostling against the metal frame of the cart and flaring in pain. She lets out a tiny cry, hoping it is masked by the sound of the wheels bumping over the stoney pathway. Her throat aches, squeezing at the stream of tears threatening her system. It is in this moment that she feels something foreign- something that will inevitably and unknowingly change her life as she knows it. Something that she is sure is not her own.

She feels angry.

*      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *      *

Loki strolls over the castle grounds, his hands clasped behind his back and his shoulders straight. The sun is shining on his face, warm and soft. The air, like always, smells like pine trees and fragrant flowers. That is partly the cause of the woman next to him. She is beautiful, there is no doubt about it. From her golden hair, knotted in bands across the crown of her head, to her gown, a soft blue silk. It flows behind her as she walks, like a river carving from each step she takes. One of her dainty hands is curled around his arm. Usually he would mind the touching- contact with other people is not his thing. More so Thor’s, his untamed brother. With her, though, he swallows his pride every time. He would do most anything to keep his mother happy. 

He peers down at Frigga, his face stoic in comparison to the bright smile she wears. She still looks as young as she had when he and Thor were mere boys. Her cheeks and nose are slender, her skin unblemished by age. The only difference is that now he stands taller than her, looking down at her blonde hair instead of up at it from under her arms. He has no doubt that his mother will remain beautiful for a long time- even when her age finally catches up with her.

“You are staring, dear.” Frigga’s voice teases and his neck snaps straight, his eyes flicking back to the gardens of green around him. “You only stare when you have something on your mind. I presume I do not have to inquire to know what it is. I will anyway, though, if that is what you would like?” 

Her voice drips into a worried tone that only she can muster. It is sincere. It makes it harder for him to be angry at the small, beautiful woman. 

“You will anyway and we both know it.” He muses, reaching a hand out to brush one of the green flowers. 

The petals are impossibly soft. Dahlias. He remembers when his mother had them planted all those years ago. It was a week’s affair- the castle had smelt of earth and new flowers for days afterwards. He remembers playing in the mud with his brother. The laughter. It seems like a lifetime ago. That was when everything was simple; when he was not about to get married to a princess he would meet at a ball that he does not even wish to attend. 

Frigga sighs, pulling her son to a gentle stop. He obliges with a sigh that matches her own. “It must be done. By decree your brother and you should have been married a year ago. The royal ball is the way it has been done for many millennia. I have tried to slow tradition- to give you two as much time as possible- but there are some who watch us closely. They wait-”

He turns away from her, a scowl on his lips. “I know mother. They want us to show weakness. I understand the premise, I promise you I am not an idiot. I suppose I just do not see how a wife would make me seem less weak.”

He is a god- a powerful one at that. It is hard to believe there are many people out there able who are able to strip him of that power. It makes no sense to get married because of an outdated tradition- especially not for some sort of ruse. He is strong enough on his own; he always has been. Quiet and capable and strong. Independently so. He has never been much for teams. Besides, he doubts there will be many women attending with the hopes of meeting him. Not when his brother will be standing right by his side. The god of thunder. There are many things Loki can do- most of which are quite impressive. Tricks of the mind and the ability to create fire at will and so on. One thing he cannot do, however, is spout lightning from his fingers. He cannot compete with that level of visible godliness and thus there is no reason to attend. He is not second best and will not treat himself as such.

Frigga catches his chin, pulling him to look at her crystal eyes- the same crystal eyes which she rolls at him. “She will balance you, dear. The point is not to make you appear less weak. You are not weak. It is to make you appear happy. A happy prince means a happy king. Happy means powerful, Loki. it is power.” 

He tenses and her eyes soften. “I am happy, mother. I am happy on my own.”

She lets her hand fall to his arm, shaking her head. Her knotted hair bounces slightly. She is giggling again in the way that only mothers can- the kind of giggle that is all knowing. It makes his skin itch, his hands secured behind his back again. How is it that she always makes him feel seen even when he does not wish to be?

“Is there something you wish to say?” He grumbles to the woman, wishing he could hate the way she grins up at him with a twinkle in her eye. He cannot though, even if he tried. 

“My dear,” she hums gently, squeezing his arm, “I think perhaps you will come to revoke your words. That is all.”

Oh she is truly infuriating. There she goes again, so freely sharing her mind even when he has made it clear time and time again that he has no wish for a wife. Not only because he does not want to marry a woman he has never met but for other reasons too. The tips of his fingers turn to ice against his palms at the thought. He does not have to look down to know they are the brilliant blue that he so loathes. There is much he wishes to remain a secret beyond the confines of his household. He would rather not be married to a woman who thinks him a monster for the rest of his life. He will pass. 

He opens his mouth, ready to fire back at her annoying laughter, when suddenly he cannot speak. Not just that, though. He cannot breath, either, or stand for that matter. Soon the trickster god is on his knees, his hands digging painfully against the cobblestone path. His nails bite against the stones, his icy fingers now burning. It is nothing near the pain in his back though which flares as though he had just been kicked. Moments later his elbow erupts into pain as well, searing down the entire length of his arm. He grinds his teeth through the pain, his eyes screwed shut. 

“Loki?” Frigga’s voice holds none of the teasing it had only moments ago, only pure worry as she kneels next to her son. “Dear what happened? What is wrong? Shall I call for someone?”

His eyes snap open at that, his head shaking frantically. “No, no. I am fine. Do not call anyone.”

Even as he says it he knows that it is not true. His whole body aches as he rolls onto his feet, rising shakily. His mother’s eyes watch him closely, the blue clouded with something he does not recognize. He straightens after a moment, forcing the pain out of his mind. 

“Did you trip, dear?” Her voice this time is guarded, concealed with a falsely loose tone. 

Loki narrows his eyes. “No, I do not think so. It felt like someone pushed me. Do you know something about that mother?”

The scowl on her face is genuine this time, her golden brows creasing. “I sure hope you are not insinuating that I pushed my own son, Loki.”

He sighs again, guilt flooding his aching body. “No, mother. I am sorry-”

The end of his sentence drops into the space between them, cut off by an overwhelming feeling of agony. Not the physical kind, though. Yes, his back is screaming in pain as he stands on those dreadful cobblestones but that is not why he stops speaking. It is the wave of self loathing that hits him out of nowhere. It is hot and angry and cold and desperate all at once. 

It feels like when he was little and his brother had thrown him into the sea to teach him to swim. He had not been ready and he swallowed a mouthful of the salty water. It had been like cold lead in his lungs, weighing him to the bottom of the surf. He had been so scared, clawing towards the faint light of the surface with no luck. Everytime he got close the light seemed to shrink further back. Soon the icy lead had turned molten when he could no longer breathe, his chest constricting under the weight of the water. The fear had turned him into some sort of crazed animal until finally he had kicked his legs hard enough to break the surface and suck in a breath of air. 

It is the exact same way he feels now; panicked- like he has no clue how to get to the air again. He claws at his chest, his eyes blown wide. The world around him begins to spin. He is breathing- he knows he is, he can feel his chest heaving up and down- but he cannot taste the pine on the air anymore. He can only taste iron and salt and hatred, brash against his lips. It turns his vision red, his muscles tensing as though preparing for a fight in which he cannot identify the threat. Like the waves that pushed him under, the enemy is everywhere and nowhere. The only thing that makes it subside is his mothers hand on his cheek, warm and soft through the panic eating away at his chest.

He meets her eyes, squeezing his hands into fists at his sides. He grinds his words through his clenched teeth. “I have no idea what is happening to me.”

The small blonde swallows, her throat bobbing slightly. Her face is not the picture of shock like Loki’s is. Of course she is slightly panicked, he can see it in the way her fingers tremble as she brushes them down his shoulder. Somehow he knows that it is not the same kind of panic he feels. His all-knowing mother is stalling. It only serves to heighten the drowning feeling.

“I think I know what it is, dear.” She tests, her hands folding against her chest, clasping to hide the tremors.

Frigga’s response does little to ease the panic- if anything it makes it worse. Usually his mother is the only thing that can calm him. If he had to close his eyes and picture the person in which he feels most comfortable around- it would be her. Today though, that is to change. She seems scared. He pushes himself through the pain, biting through the iron and salt on his tongue. 

“What do you know, mother.” It is not a question- it is a demand.

She straightens as well, sucking in the air that he cannot seem to find for the life of him. It makes him jealous- angry.

“Well,” she flicks her eyes up to the sky, avoiding the next words out of her mouth. “I think you might have a soulmate, my dear.” 

#Loki #Loki fic #loki x y/n #loki x reader #mcu #mcu fic #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #loki layfeyson x reader #the avengers #the avengers fic #the avengers imagine #prince of asgard

[d-targaryenshoe]

A Tasteless Mess • Jesse Williams

Summary: Being in the world's biggest girl group and having a celebrity crush do not always go well together

word count: 1394

Your album Confetti had now been released to the outside world full of fans for three weeks. And with people who needed a belt under their hearts, or some kind of support.

But soon people were asked from all over to be a guest on talk shows, music events, photoshoots and the rest that came along as a member of a well-known girl band.

"These girls have the power to turn other girls with no confidence into the strongest girls ever, their sixth album Confetti has been out since last week, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, Little Mix!" James stepped away from behind the desk and walked over to the sofa.

The five of you emerged from behind the curtain and heard the screams of the fans in the audience.

Waving to the fans, the five of you took turns embracing James, and you all did the same with Shawn and Lizzo.

Just as you all sat down Lizzo waved her hand in her face for some fresh air. "I can't believe these five amazing bitches are sitting next to me, James, let me have this moment"

The audience laughed at Lizzo's choice of words to describe her feelings toward the five girls sitting next to her.

"Yeah you're all pretty great, that's totally a statement" Shawn admitted, nodding to the five of you

"Pretty great? Shawnie boy, boo, listen, these women, I- they slay my life, they're incredibly good" Lizzo let out a loud laugh and put her ponytail on her left shoulder.

James placed pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at the audience with a neutral stare before turning it towards Lizzo. "Melissa Jefferson, this is my show, do you mind?"

Lizzo laughed again at the expression James just showed on his face. "Of course I'll just try to shut up, for now."

you and Jesy snort at Lizzo's answer before James directed one of his questions to you. "The album Confetti, it shows us a new side of you, was that your goal?"

Jesy nodded to the man's question before answering. "Especially a more mature side of us, that's something we wanted to show to the world and to our Mixers."

"Nothing but my feelings, is that one of those songs?" James asked, cerious.

"Definitely, me, Jade and Leigh-Anne wrote this song, we wrote it on a writing trip to LA, it's a very innocent song but the lyrics are quite daring."  You explained when the fans started cheering.

"Are you going on a Confetti tour soon?" James said.

"Sure, it would be a shame not to sing these bangers live with fans like them, wouldn’t it?" Perrie pointed to the fans sitting in the multiple seats. "They're amazing and part of us."

"They really are." Leigh-Anne nodded, smiling at the fans.

"You heard it people they are going on a tour, but before we say goodbye, let's play a game of Spill Your Guts or fill Your Guts, come on."

the five of you stood up and followed the host of this show to the table, which was surrounded by six chairs and a plate filled with foods you'd rather not eat.

"The rules are simple, we will be asking each other a few personal questions. If you don't answer, you will have to eat a disgusting food of your opponents choice." James explained.

"there's jellyfish, turkey testicles, vienna sausage juice, also bull penis, bug trifle, bird saliva, june bug jello and a pepper smoothie." James said as he turned the plate.

"I can't believe I haven't run away yet." Jade muttered, sitting on the chair next to you.

"there is little chance now, I suppose." Perrie smiled at Jade, hands clasped on the table.

"I'll ask the first question, I'll give Jesy the bug trifle, by the way." Leigh-Anne said when James handed the cards to her. "Oh this is a good one."

"rank these collaborations from best to worst, Secret Love Song, How Ya Doing and More Than Words." Leigh-Anne read aloud, glaring at Jesy.

Jesy grinned at herself, licked her lips and took the glass with the trifle, peeking at the audience. "I can just eat some of the cream? I'm really not going to answer this question."

"if you want to be an wuss, sure, why not." James shrugged as the audience laughed slightly.

Jesy took the spoon and took a small scoop of the cream next to the bug and put it in her mouth before swallowing it with her eyes closed.

"Okay the next one if for Jade Amelia Thirlwall and I'll give her the bird saliva." James said, smiling at Jade shaking her head. "Rank these music videos, Sweet melody, Holiday and Break Up Song."

Jade leaned back in the chair, glaring at the glass filled with the thin substance. "I won’t touch that glass, nope, uhm, Sweet melody, Holiday and then Break Up Song, no hate, all three of those are great songs."

The rest of you nodded your heads to her answer, which is what you had privately talked about. Sweet Melody was your favorite music video at the moment.

The choreo, the location, the transitions everything was perfect about the music video. something you hadn't done for a long.

"The next one is for y/n and she gets the bull penis." Perrie smirked, turning the plate towards you. "It is not a lie that you co-wrote the lyrics to 'Shout Out to my ex' together with me, but which ex was it exactly?"

You laughed when Perrie finished reading the question just asked. "not a hair on my head that thinks I will answer this."

you took a small piece out of the bowl in front of you and inspected it although the smell came in very strong and made you cough before putting it in your mouth while the audience applauded

After a second of chewing you spit the piece into the bucket next to you, the dirty taste took over in your mouth, you took the glass of water that was standing on the table, finishing it all. "don't try this at home, Mixers."

"and now finally the host, we will give you the june bug jello." Jesy joked, spinning the plate. "Out of all the guests you've seen here, who wanted the fans to see for a long time?"

"oh! I know! I'm one of those! This is so unfair now that I know something." you pouted your lip when the audience laughed at your enthusiasm.

James frowned at Jesy and crossed his arms in thought, turning his head to the audience. "you can't accidentally call it or something?"

James sighed and took the jello off the plate and began to chew on the yellow and not so tasty dish that was being served.

he swallowed it and shook his head, overwhelmed with the taste now in his mouth. "that wasn't good."

the audience laughed and Jade took the last ticket before bursting into a loud laugh and clapping her hands and looking at you with wiggling eyebrows.

"oh god why am I scared?" you looked at the audience with a frown on your forehead.

"We all know you go live on Instagram once a week, we also know that besides being a member of Little Mix, that you are someone's fangirl, our fans know that too, or is it more of a crush?" tried to read to Jade, but she laughed.

"Who did me like that? dear lord, I'm not answering this after- fuck," you laughed nervously and the audience laughed along.

"So your love for Jesse Williams is huge?" James asked as a smirk played on his lips.

"Have you seen him? His eyes, his smile, his voice is so recognizable, the freckles, just everything ‘bout that man, but why are you smirking?" you asked.

"Maybe I should ask him?" said a voice from next to you that made you freeze, and the audience began to shout.

"no, no, no, no fucking way, okay, I'm gonna freak out, omg." your eyes opened wide when you turned and your celebrity crush was behind you. "oh my- I can rest in peace, can I give you a hug?"

you didn't wait for an answer but got up from your chair and took the actor in an embrace, the feeling of fangirl filled your heart.

#jesse williams imagines #jesse williams #little mix #little mix x you #little mix imagine #jesse williams x reader #celebrity imagine #fangirl #james corden #late late night with james corden #spill or fill your guts #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes #lizzo

[ihearthes]

Quarantine Christmas Part  2

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x y/n Rating: Smut Word Count: 2768 (Part 1) Fiction Chalenge via @caitlin‘s fiction party via @sweetcreatureinthedark

Part 1

December 24, 2020

“Smith!” he bellows way too early and cheerfully as he pounds on my bedroom door. “Happy Christmas Eve! Come on! Let’s go for a jog.”

“Arrrrggggghhhhh,” I growl. “No.”

“If you hike the Hastain Trail with me, I’ll spring for coffee afterwards.”

“Go away, Styles.” Drawing the pillow over my head, I try to block out the sound of his voice. 

“Fresh air will be good for you.”

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” 

“Not on your life. I hate hiking alone.”

“Fine!” Throwing the covers off, I don my newly cleaned leggings, sports bra, and a t-shirt before opening the door and marching past him in my tennis shoes. “Bully,” I accuse. 

“You’re mad that I’m forcing you to take care of yourself?” Although he sounds offended, that smirk is back. 

“Whatevs, Styles. Let’s go.”

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

He sets off at a brisk pace, and I trail behind him slightly. After all, I’m still waking up. 

“Keep up, Smith!”

Just to be ornery, I slow my stride, taking my time examining the plants next to the path. When I next glance up, Harry is a solid quarter mile ahead of me, and I contemplate turning back, finding a picnic table and taking a nap on it until he’s done. 

But no. That’s not to be, as he turns and jogs back to me, keeping his legs pumping as he moves backwards. 

“You’re going to trip on something,” I caution. 

He grins. “You care about me!”

My eyes roll so far back into my head that I swear I can see my own brain. “No. But I care about Glenne, and she would be mighty upset if I had a part in damaging you.”

“Mhm.” The smirk is back, and as hard as I try to keep a sour look on my face, it’s challenging. “Where was Christmas supposed to be?” His question is casual, but it causes me to flinch.

“Indiana,” I snap off the word like one would a twig on a dying tree. Immediately, I feel guilty. “Sorry.” My mumble is quiet, but loud enough for him to hear and nod in silent acceptance. “You don’t deserve rudeness. What about you? London?”

“Holmes Chapel. With my mum, my sister, and her boyfriend.”

“Ah. Is it cold there this year?”

“Fairly mild. And Indiana?”

“Cold, cold, cold. Maybe even snow still on the ground.”

“Yeah. Christmas in Los Angeles is quite different.” Harry gestures around the trail, and I smile. 

“Definitely.”

“What are your favorite traditions?” 

By the time we loop back around to the start of the trail, we’ve exhausted the topic, and I realize my mood has improved tremendously. 

“Thank you, Harry.” The words are soft, and I try to insert as much authenticity as I can into them. 

I have the pleasure of watching his eyes soften as he observes me over the top of the car. “Coffee next! And a trip to the grocery!”

“Grocery? You’re cooking?”

“WE are baking and then cooking.”

“Really?”

“Yep. We’re going to create a mashup of our traditions.”

“No fucking way!” I exclaim, excited at the prospect. Sitting up, I search for a piece of paper and a pen. “I didn’t bring my purse, Styles. Give me your phone.”

“My phone?” Confused, he gazes at me while at a stoplight. 

“I need to write down the ingredients we need to buy. Let’s see. We can’t make some of the cookies we each like because I don’t know if Glenne has cookie cutters in the right shapes. So how about some ginger biscuits?” 

When he nods, I gesture for his phone. “Come on, Styles. I need to look up recipes and make sure we get the right ingredients.”

Reluctantly, he unlocks his phone, handing it to me. “No snooping,” he warns, shaking his finger in my direction. 

“Puuuuuuullllllleeeeeasssse. As if.” Using his browser, I search for a recipe for the ginger biscuits for him as well as one for thumbprint jam cookies, copying the ingredients into his Notes app. 

“Now, for dinner,” he begins, and my fingers pause as I wait for his next words. “Mum used to do a roast, but I don’t eat meat anymore. Just fish. And your family always does turkey. How do we compromise on a protein?”

“Scallops? Salmon? Both delicious and something I would consider fancy enough for a holiday meal.”

“Excellent!” Harry declares. “And can we agree on brussel sprouts and yams?”

My whole being is excited at the prospect of this meal with Harry. Suddenly there’s a silver lining to spending my favorite holiday away from my family. 

As he turns off the engine, I rest my hand on his wrist until he twists to look at me. “Thank you, Harry.”

“You already said that.” He rolls his eyes, but the crinkles send a different message. 

Less than 30 minutes later, we’re back in the car with the trunk full of groceries, including prosecco. After stopping for the promised coffee, we return to Glenne and Jeffrey’s house, unloading the food. 

“Mind if I take a shower before we start?” I ask, looking down at my clothing. “I feel dusty still from the trail.”

“Let’s both shower --” He stalls at my shocked expression “-- in separate bathrooms, Smith. Then let’s see who can put together the worst Christmas outfit from whatever we can find in the guest bedroom where we’re each sleeping.”

A grin crosses my face. “Oh, you’re going down, Styles!” Rushing out of the room, I’m confident that my ears are playing tricks on me because I think he responds with “I would love to go down on you.” He must have said something completely different, and I shake my head to clear the thought. 

When I emerge later, I’m wearing my grey sweatpants which I’ve pinned garland to along with one of my green hoodies and a giant wreath draped around my neck like a necklace by a red ribbon. Arriving in the kitchen, I’m stopped in my tracks by the sight of Harry wearing a skirt of wrapping paper over his also-grey sweatpants, along with a variety of bows stuck to his Green Bay Packers hoodie. 

He shrugs, “Apparently they use that guest bedroom for storing wrapping paper.” 

I laugh as I pluck one of the bows off his hoodie and place it on my chest after removing the wreath. 

“You win,” I concede. “I’m surprised there’s so much Christmas stuff in their house.”

“Eh. The Azoff family celebrates everything.”

“Lucky us, then.”

Side by side, we create the dough first for the ginger biscuits and then for the thumbprint cookies. After he slides the first pans into the oven, Harry crosses his arms. “Scrabble while we wait for them to bake?”

“Oh, it’s on!” I agree, and we settle at the dining room table to play the game. 

“Fine. You win,” Harry pouts over an hour later as I play my final letter which manages to be on a triple word score tile. 

“Woo hoo!” Stuffing one of the ginger biscuits in my mouth, I chew thoughtfully. “These are pretty good. I might make them again next year.”

“Same for these,” Harry grins as he chews on one of the thumbprint cookies. Crossing his arms on the table in front of him, he leans toward me. “Now how about you tell me exactly why you turned down my account when Glenne offered it to you?”

Shock courses through my body, and I freeze, knowing my face is likely turning into a candy cane red. 

“She told you?”

“Of course she told me! I had specifically asked for you, so I was a bit heartbroken when she told me that you refused.”

His word choice makes me raise an eyebrow. “Heartbroken?”

“Devastated? Wrecked? Disappointed? Take your pick, Smith.”

Swallowing, I make eye contact with him. “I’ll tell you why I turned down our account if you’ll tell me why you call me Smith.”

His tongue darts out and wets his lips as his green eyes bore into me. “Because you remind me of a Granny Smith apple.” Confusion must sweep across my face, as he continues talking. “You’re tart at first, but you can be sweetened. I’ve witnessed it in the past as well as just the last two days.” His face colors, but he continues speaking anyway. “Plus I suspect you’re incredibly juicy, and I would love a sample.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Had Harry Styles just made a very obvious overture? Yes. Yes, he had. My eyes float over his face, searching for any indication that he’s lying, but the sincerity is striking. 

First I look at my entwined hands, and then I decide to show the same courage he has exhibited. “I turned down your account because I couldn’t possibly work for you when I’m this attracted to you. It’s bad form to want to --” I can’t decide on the appropriate word, so I settle for “-- jump your client.”

The smirk is back, and it’s followed by an uproarious laugh. “This is too rich! To think that we could have been having some sort of relationship all this time is mind-numbing.” Rising, he holds out his hand. “How about we consummate our mutual attraction?”

“In the middle of the afternoon on Christmas Eve?”

“You got a better idea of how to spend our time?” 

“Swimming?” I tease. 

“Smith?”

“Yeah?”

“Take my hand.”

His words and tone make it clear that he’s interested in moving forward with this. My own body’s response is in sync with his. Gently, I place my hand in his as I rise from the table. Twisting his body, he also shifts his hand, leading me in the direction of…where? A bedroom seems too rushed. Not that my hormones would agree. 

But no. We walk down the two steps into the living room where he turns on the Christmas tree lights before settling on the couch and tugging my arm so that I join him. “Oh, wait.” Rising, he approaches the sound system, and soon the strains of Christmas music fill the space. Returning to my side, he settles with his arm around me. 

“Smith…” His words are a whisper, and I rotate my head in his direction as he brushes his finger over my cheek. When our lips meet, I swear I can hear the angels sing. His mouth is soft and tender, and I twine my fingers through the hand draped over my shoulder as I open wide to allow him to enter. Our tongues tangle in heat and dampness that also seems to pool between my legs. He tastes of the lemon curd thumbprints we had jointly made, and I relish the flavor, wanting more. 

Shifting closer to him, I tilt my head to provide greater access, and his hand drifts to my sweatpants. Withdrawing from me, he examines our clothes. “Mind if I remove this garland?”

“Not at all,” I purr. “As long as I can get rid of these bows.” The wrapping paper skirt had already been ruined when we sat down for the Scrabble game. 

Rather than unpinning the garland, though, he hooks his thumbs into my waistband and draws the sweatpants over my hips. “Up, Smith.” I lift my bum as he removes my bottoms, leaving me in my panties. 

In return, I inch his hoodie up his chest and off, tossing it over my shoulder, heedless of the bows that seem to desire to stay attached to the musician. Can’t say I blame them. 

“Hmmmm,” he murmurs before capturing my lips again. 

When we come up for air, my hands have managed to roam his chest, tweaking his nipple and wrenching a moan from his mouth. For his part, his hand has drifted over the small piece of cloth separating my treasure from full access. His thumb rubs a pattern over the fabric, and soon I’m panting. 

“Fuck,” I mutter as we separate. 

“Yes please” is his cheeky reply. 

“Dork,” I indict.

“Mhm. Take off that hoodie. Please.” 

Willingly, I oblige. Before the material has hit the floor, he’s capturing my nipple in his mouth, and I throw my head back as fire stokes through my body from my tits to my core. “Shit,” I proclaim. 

His fingers return to the scrap of cloth covering my center. As his thumb teases my clit through the silk, a finger slips underneath and into me. Without thought, I cry out, my lower body rising from the bed to get closer to heaven. 

“Been a while?” His voice is rough, sounding like sandpaper as he dislodges from my breast. 

“Too long,” I pant, “but you’ve always had the power to bring me to the brink just with a look.”

“I see,” he smirks, and normally I would want to smack him, but this time, I find it endearing. 

“I want --” I gesture to his sweats, and he grins. 

“If I refuse?”

“Then my treasure box can close pretty quickly if I don’t have something in my hands.”

Harry laughs. “Fair enough.” Shucking his sweatpants over his hips, I find that he’d chosen not to wear underpants as his cock springs upwards into my waiting hand. 

“Shit. I need lubricant.” I complain. 

We gaze at each other, the lust clear. Jumping up from the sofa, we race together to Glenne and Jeffrey’s bathroom. I scour the lower cabinets while Harry throws open the linen closet. “Got it!” he announces, holding the bottle over his head. 

“Thank God!” My relief is real. Grabbing the bottle from him, I find I can’t move. Now what? Where do we go? We can’t very well do the deed in their bed. 

Grabbing my hand, Harry once more takes the lead, and we end up in his guest bedroom. I gesture at the bed, and he strips off the duvet before lying down on his back. Crawling onto the mattress, I settle between his thighs, tilting the bottle of lube and squeezing a fair amount into my hand. Relaxed, I hold my hand over his cock, allowing droplets to fall. His eyes plead with me, and I grin at him. 

“Impatient, Styles?”

“Desperate for you, Smith.”

With that pronouncement, I wrap both hands around his length, allowing my fingers to glide gently along his shaft. One hand falls underneath where I can tickle his balls playfully. When his hips start bucking, I withdraw from him completely -- albeit slowly with a final few long strokes. 

His eyes fly open, and he pats the bed next to him, so I lie there. 

“Smith…”

“Shhhh. Hush, Styles.”

Miraculously he doesn’t say anything, but he does reach out and shift aside the fabric over my vagina before he delves a finger inside. I know I’m wet. Hell, I can feel the dampness. 

His finger teases me, and I writhe under his attention. 

“Fuck, Styles. I’m gonna…”

“Do it!” he orders, and my lower body creates a bridge as my hips rise into the air while my thighs tremble in ecstasy. 

As I land back onto the bed and earth itself from my recent visit to heaven, Harry carefully removes my panties and throws them over his shoulder. 

“Condom?” He inquires.

“IUD. You clean?”

“Yep. Got tested not long ago. You?”

“Fuck me, Styles. We deserve this.”

“Indeed,” he grins just before he plunges into me, and I cry out at the feel of his length inside me, filling me and touching every part of me. 

“Shit.” My breaths come in short spurts as he pumps into me. I can’t seem to catch my breath as my second orgasm starts building. “Shift to the left, Styles.”

“You got it, Smith. Can you scratch at my back?” 

“You bet.” 

The communication is nice as we guide each other to what pleases us the most. As much as I want to take our time, it’s not nearly long enough before I feel my insides begin to clench in a familiar way. 

“Fuck, Styles. I’m coming!”

“Me too, Smith! Fuuuuuuuuuccccccckkkkkk!” He stretches the word into multiple syllables as I feel his seed squirting into my womb, stopped only by my birth control. His fingers reach between our bodies as he manipulates my clit until I see stars and arch my lower body to become closer to him. 

Collapsing on top of me, his breathing is as uneven as my own. 

“Merry Christmas, Smith,” he murmurs while we’re still joined. 

“Merry Christmas, Styles,” I reply, hugging his body tightly to mine. No telling if we have a future, but this holiday is going to be one for the books. 

A/N:  This short story is dedicated to those who aren’t able to join family this Christmas due to the Coronavirus.  Be safe.  Be healthy.  Make the best of the situation. Sending you BIG HUGS!

#harry styles #original writing #my writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles reader insert #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction

[night-rhea]

Big question!!!!

What would Night serve Samantha as a Meal, when Sam ask them for a typical turkish meal?

*overexcited noices* @samshogwarts I HOPE SHE İS READY BECAUSE NİGHT GONNA PREPARE WHOLE BİG DİNNER FOR HER JFJLFMFMMFMFMF I think you will find these, a bit romantic. In a very different way. Turks loves to eat okay, really l o v e s.

We should start with a beautiful soup. Tarhana Çorbası (tarhana soup)! @cres-aragon come quickly its Cres's fave soup!

"This is a soup that’s made and eaten at home. It’s a comforting, winter family staple. It’s what parents make and send to their kids who are away at uni or working away from home, just so they can be sure their offspring are at least eating one wholesome sensible meal occasionally."

Another famous Turkish dish, Dolma is next!

Maybe calling it turkish dish is wrong? Pff im not really sure. Wikipedia says it comes from Ottoman, but now it also means Balkan's knows that too!

"Dolma is a family of stuffed dishes from Ottoman cuisine that can be served warm or cold. Some types of dolma are made with whole vegetables, fruit, offal or seafood, while others are made by wrapping leaves, most commonly grape or cabbage leaves, around the filling. These wrapped dolma are sometimes called sarma."

"Dolma is divided into two groups: dolma without meat and dolma with olive oil. Those without meat and cooked with olive oil are called yalanci, meaning imitation.

Meat dolmas must always include rice, or sometimes bulgur. As explorer Pietro della Valle wrote, "If it doesn't contain rice, it is not a Turkish dish." Nevertheless, the end result is always the same–delicious and flavorful stuffed rolls of grape leaves."

And you h a v e to eat dolma with Turkish Yoghurt aka Yoğurt. No, its not like the ones you know.

(DAMN im so hungry now...)

"Once you cultivate an appreciation for plain yogurt you will have a hard time eating the sweet, fruity varieties, although they too are available in most urban areas. Turkish yogurt is so rich and creamy it more resembles sour cream.

Some varieties are sold with a thick layer of cream or skin on top, called 'kaymak.'"

Next? Mantı!

aAh my beloved mantı... yes its also yoghurt you see top of it.

"Manti, which is also referred to as Turkish ravioli may vary in size and shape depending on the region from which it comes. They may be boiled, steamed, baked or fried, but the recipe itself is fairly standard. A classic pasta dough is rolled out and filled with a mince of either lamb or beef and onions and spices then folded and cooked. It is then served topped with a garlicky yogurt sauce and sprinkled with sumac, red pepper, oregano or mint.

The making of manti is nothing short of a family affair. Ladies get together rolling, filling and folding these dumplings, spending hours gossiping about the latest news. Aunts and sisters, mothers and daughters, the making of manti is a group effort. Especially if the dish is being served to celebrate a wedding or engagement. However, it would be just as common to make for the family dinner. While dried manti is sold in little shops and at neighborhood bazaars, there is nothing more comforting than homemade manti, it’s almost certainly the extra infusion of gossip that ishomemade manti’s secret ingredient."

You can be sure Night will have one of the best homemade mantı's ever fufufu

My inner chef said Sammy should taste Kısır too. Baş üstüne Chef! (Hai hai chef)

"Traditionally kisir is made with bulgur wheat, if you are avoiding gluten, you might want to use quinoa, millet or even rice instead. Kisir is one of these dishes that tastes even better the day after so it’s great for making a big batch in advance and bringing it into work the next day. If, like me, you like mezze-style meals kisir makes a great addition to any mezze.

Its zingy, spicy, and fresh taste will excite your palate and its vibrant colours will brighten up your table."

Hey Sammy, wanna something cold to drink? heres your Ayran! (It pronounce exactly like "I run." ) Another yoghurt in our dinner XD

"By diluting plain yogurt with water and adding salt, you have created ayran. It is a very simple and very delicious drink which is served ubiquitously throughout Turkey. Common with meat or pizza sort meals, ayran is not often offered with seafood because of some superstitious about a negative reaction occurring in your intestines."

Are you full yet Sammy? Good! You ate so much didnt you? Youre lucky we are in the end!

Now we can have one of the best sweet in the world! Baklava!

"The recipe may sound too easy to be true: chopped nuts are spread in between the phyllo (yufka) layers, dressed with butter, baked and sweetened with syrup or honey. But the excellence depends on the quality of the flour, the thinness of the dough (phyllo) and the proportion of the syrup."

And here something kinda funny:

"There was a special reason for baklava being a favorite among the wealthy families and the Ottoman Sultans with their large harems. Pistachio and honey were the two prime elements and when consumed regularly they were believed to be aphrodisiacs. Cloves of two spices, cinnamon for females and cardamom for males, were added to increase the aphrodisiac effect of the pastry."

See? Its a sweet of riches XD

Every quality Turkish meal must end with tea, and you will be suprised how it will help your stomach after all the things you just ate ✨

The thing about Turkish meals is, not eating in hurry. I said Turks loves to eat right? Mostly, we love to eat together. Even if you were so busy with eating to talk, when your tea and baklava comes i can guarantee you, you will have such a lovely and warm time with the ones youre with!

Afiyet olsun! (Bon Apetite!)

#I cant believe i writw whole long ass post XD #IM SO HUNGRY RN 😭😭😭😭 #Now say... Would Sammy prepare dinner for Night too? :3 #hphm #hogwarts mystery #hphm mc #night rhea #samantha o'connell #Turkish meals from Night

[winchester19-67]

Thankful for You

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 2,285

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving! Feedback is appreciated!

“Dean Winchester!”

Dean jumps, causing the oven door to slam shut as he lets go of it. He turns on his heels, his expression like that of a little kid who has got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Hiya, sweetheart,” Dean clears his throat a bit as he gives you a nervous look. “I thought that you were out at the store.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t move there, you know,” you tell Dean as you walk over to set all the bags down onto the island. “Please tell me that you weren’t just sneaking a piece of the turkey.”

“What?” Dean asks you with wide eyes but you can see right through his ploy. “Um… No, sweetheart. Of course no. I was just seeing if it was done so that it wouldn’t burn on ya.”

“Uh-huh. Like I believe one little bit of that,” you tell Dean as you walk over to open up the fridge. “Will you please help me put these groceries up?”

“Fine,” Dean mumbles as he walks over and begins to pull things out of the bags. Dean glances over at you and his heart drops a bit when he sees the expression on your face. “Hey, are you mad at me, sweetheart?”

“No,” you sigh. “I’m not mad but I… I want tomorrow to go well for you and Sam.”

“Sweetheart, a little piece of turkey eaten early is not going to ruin tomorrow,” Dean tells you softly as he walks over to wrap both of his arms tightly around your waist.

“Yeah,” you sigh as you look over at the kitchen table. “Dean, did you eat a piece of the pie too?”

“It was fresh,” Dean pouts as you elbow him and you turn around so that you can see his face. “It was a little, tiny piece of pie.”

“I’m trying to get everything cooked today so that all I have to do tomorrow is stick it in the oven to warm it up,” you tell him. “I’m never going to get everything done if you keep eating it all!”

“Alright, calm down,” Dean tells you in a soothing tone when he finally gets that you are not in a teasing mood. “Hey, why are you getting so upset about this?”

You take a deep breath as tears well up in your eyes. “You have helped me so much get over everything that’s happened to me,” you tell Dean softly. “You know that I have had some bad experiences with guys and I had trust issues. I had problems accepting the fact that I deserved something better. And then you found me and were the absolute most amazing man that I have ever met. Dean, you showed me what it was like to have a life, and I promised you that I would show you what it’s like to have a normal life.”

“And you’ve been doing that,” Dean tells you softly as he reaches out to gently wipe a tear off of your cheek with his thumb.

“I’ve been trying but it seems like something always pops up and ruins it all, Dean,” you choke out. “Our first Thanksgiving together you and Sam had to go on a hunt. That Christmas we were snowed in at a motel room after a hunt. New Years you had the flu and didn’t feel like celebrating. On your birthday it was another hunt and all you got was a lousy phone call from me.”

“(Y/N)…”

“I have tried to make all of the special days good for you but…”

“(Y/N), everyday that I get to be with you is a special day,” he tells you softly.

“You know what I mean,” you tell him. “Dean, if it isn’t a hunt then it’s something else, and this is the first time that I have talked you boys into taking the week off. I want it to perfect for you and Sam.”

“A little bit of food sampling isn’t going to make it any less amazing, honey,” Dean tells you.

It feels like there’s a big lump in your throat as you speak, and there are more tears trying to spill over your lashes. “My childhood memories of Thanksgiving included getting to see Dad sit at the head of the table and carve the turkey every year,” you tell Dean. “I just… I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“It is not stupid,” Dean whispers. “You know that you can and you should tell me anything that you want to, sweetheart.”

You take a deep breath and look Dean in the eyes. “Thanksgiving wasn’t the same after Dad started getting sick, and I was hoping that maybe I could get that feeling this year and let you experience it too. I… I told you, Dean. It’s dumb.”

“It isn’t dumb,” Dean tells you as he wraps both of his arms tightly around you. “I get it, honey. But I still don’t understand how me taste testing is going to ruin anything.”

“I don’t know,” you sigh as you rest your head over against his chest. “In my mind I just want everything to be perfect and seeing a chunk taken out of the turkey and a piece of pie missing gets on my nerves a bit.”

“Well, get used to it because this is what Thanksgiving with me is going to look like,” Dean chuckles as he tightens his arms around you a bit.

“Yeah,” you sigh.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Dean asks you softly as he pulls away enough so that he’s able to see your face. “You feeling okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you nod and you try to give Dean a soft smile. “I’m alright, baby.”

“You always get like this around the Holidays and I don’t like it,” Dean tells you.

“I know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Dean chuckles. “It’s okay to get a little sad when everything’s so different then what you’re used to.”

You take a deep breath. “Don’t you ever get upset because you and Sam missed out on so much?”

“Not exactly,” Dean shrugs. “Because no matter what I’ve always had Sam and I’m okay with that. Now I’ve got you too and that makes it even better.”

“Yeah?” you ask him.

“So much better,” Dean smirks as he leans in to press his lips firmly to yours.

“I guess that sometimes it is just that simple,” you tell Dean softly. “Holidays don’t have to feel like a special day or different from all of the others for them to be special.”

“No, they do not,” Dean tells you. “And yet you deserve everyday to feel special so I am going to try to make tomorrow go as smoothly and as perfectly as I can.”

“Thank you, baby,” you smile.

“Now, what do you say you and me go take a break with a movie?” Dean asks you.

“In other words you just want to cuddle,” you laugh. Dean rolls his eyes before he moves his fingers along your sides, causing you to giggle as you try and break away from his grasp. “Hey, you’re a great cuddler,” you giggle.

“Don’t you know it,” Dean chuckles as he presses a kiss to your cheek. “You okay now, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I’m alright, Dean.”

“Good,” Dean smiles as he begins to pull you away from the kitchen. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You frown when you hear arguing from the kitchen. Seriously? You think. Dean promised me that today would go smoothly and those two can’t stop bickering?

You walk into the kitchen and stop in your tracks to take it all in.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” Dean smiles when he sees you standing there in the doorway.

“Good morning,” you smile as you walk further in to the room. “You boys have been busy this morning.”

“Well, one of us has been at least,” Sam says as he narrows his eyes at Dean.

“Hey, I’m the supervisor,” Dean smiles as he walks over to you to wrap an arm around your waist. “Like it, sweetheart?” Dean asks you softly as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“I love it,” you smile widely as you lean your head over onto Dean’s shoulder. “It looks nice in here. Thank you, Dean.”

“Hey, I’m the one you should be thanking,” Sam tells you.

“Ah, don’t let Sammy fool ya, sweetheart. This was my idea,” Dean smirks at you.

“Uh-huh, I’m sure,” you say and you playfully roll your eyes a bit at Dean. “Thank you both.”

“Hey, don’t give him credit,” Dean tells you. “I mean it. All Sam was supposed to do was keep you from walking in here before I finished, and he obviously failed at that.”

“Yeah, because if I hadn’t stepped in and helped you then we wouldn’t get to eat until tomorrow,” Sam says as he walks over and pulls you away from Dean.

“Hey, she’s my girl! Get your own!”

“Oh, you’ll live for a minute,” Sam rolls his eyes.

“Thank you both so much,” you tell them softly.

“Hey, I told you that I was going to try to make today perfect all for you,” Dean tells you as he pulls you away from Sam.

You frown. “I feel bad now for getting so tore up yesterday.”

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t feel bad,” Dean tells you softly. “I guess that I should’ve been more patient and stayed out of the food.”

“Says the man who stole another piece of pie.”

“Be quiet, Sammy,” Dean scowls.

“Okay, both of you. Stop arguing please,” you giggle.

“You know, we’d argue a lot less if both of our mouths were full of turkey,” Dean tells you.

“Well then let’s eat.”

Dinner goes just like you wanted it to. Dean carves the turkey, everything tastes great, and five minutes into it you have to break up a food fight.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you go lay down for a while?” Dean asks you as he gets up from the table and grabs your plate. “We’ve got clean up duty.”

“No. You two put all of this together this morning,” you tell Dean.

“Yeah, but you’re the one who cooked yesterday, so we’ve got this,” Dean tells you.

“Thank you, baby,” you tell him as you reach up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “And you too, Sam.”

“No problem,” Sam smiles.

You take a deep breath before walking out of the room and down the hallway to your and Dean’s room. You crawl underneath the blankets and you let your eyes slide shut. After a little while, Dean walks into the room and curls up underneath the blankest beside of you.

“Thank you, Dean,” you whisper as you rest your head over onto his chest. Dean wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your temple.

“Anything for my sweetheart,” Dean tells you softly.

“You want to take a little ride?” you ask him.

“Mmm. Maybe later. I don’t think that I can move right now,” Dean says, causing you to giggle a bit at him.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

You take a deep breath. “Hey, Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you so much for making today special for me, and also for showing me that it can feel like any other day and can still be special. I guess I just have these expectations for days like today and when I don’t think that they’re going to turn out right…”

“I get it, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry that I overreacted on you yesterday.”

“It honestly isn’t a big deal so please don’t feel guilty about it,” Dean says softly.

“Okay,” you breathe out as you try and relax a bit in Dean’s hold.

“Hey, guess what we forgot to do while ago.”

“What’s that?” you ask him.

“Say what we’re thankful for,” Dean whispers into your hair as he nuzzles his nose into your skin.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dean smiles. “I mean, my answer would be kind of obvious anyways.”

“Oh, what’s that. Pie?”

“Haha. Funny,” Dean says sarcastically. “But yes pie would definitely be on the excessively long list. You know what would be number one on that list though?”

“What’s that?” you ask him.

“You,” Dean tells you as he pulls away a bit so that he can look you in the eyes. “I’m thankful for you and you have no idea how much better my life is with you in it.”

“Dean,” you breathe out as tears well up in your eyes. “I’m thankful for you too. Baby, you do so much for me and I could never thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to,” Dean tells you softly. “That’s what I’m here for.” Dean pulls you in tightly to him before hiding his face in your neck. “After we take a nap then I’m going to finish off that pumpkin pie.”

“If Sam doesn’t get there first while we’re napping.”

Dean’s eyes widen and he lets go of you before jumping up out of bed. When Dean runs into the room he has the pie pan and two forks in his hands.

“Dean, you’re ridiculous,” you laugh as Dean sits down beside of you on the bed and hands you a fork.

“Sammy ain’t getting my pie,” Dean tells you as he takes a big bite.

“Dork,” you laugh.

“Yeah, but I’m your dork,” Dean smiles widely as he leans in to give you a sweet kiss. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Dean,” you smile widely. “Happy thanksgiving.” Dean gives you a soft smile as he leans over to press his forehead against yours.

“Happy Thanksgiving, baby.”

Tags: @polina-93 @adoptdontshoppets @justanotherwinchester @blue-pink-green @spnbaby-67 @deanwanddamons @defenderrosetyler @mlovesstories @akshi8278 @idksupernatural @hobby27 @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva​ 

#dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #SPN #fanfic

[macamonium]

god help

I'm writing this thing and it's gonna make me cry lol

this is (hopefully) gonna be part of a larger fic, but as I was jotting down the outline this just dripped out. its abt self-love thru good food and Bakugou learning to forgive himself the right way

maybe tw for eating disorder stuff, though that's not what the fic will be about

Bakugou emptied a full-sodium packet of beef bouillon into the pan. The smell drafted through the dorm’s empty kitchen, and his mind wandered with it.

He knew, regrettably, that he reflexively went for the full-sodium bouillon because of his mom. Mitsuki had the same impatience for low-fat and low-calorie “diet” foods that she did for backtalk and attitude. She scoffed at the TV whenever it lit up with commercials of dancing, ever-thinning crackers, or the new zero-calorie alternative for something that was never meant to be low-calorie. Sour cream, for chrissakes! It’s fucking dairy, it’s meant to be that way!

She lectured Bakugou about it when he was really little, on some Saturday in the middle of summer. He was inside for the afternoon nursing an injury from what he reported was a particularly slippery log in the forest. Really, it was payback from a sore-loser gang of fifth graders. So his ankle wasn’t really twisted, but his chin sure was bruised - that log had a mean right hook. No way in hell was he letting the neighborhood kids see his face like that, so he was there, in the kitchen, pretending to take extra care of his left foot while Mitsuki made them lunch.

Stirring the curry in his own pan, which was now simmering, Bakugou could picture it more clearly than he had in a long, long while. He had been sitting on the farthest barstool - yeah, it was that one because one of the legs was loose and he was rocking back and forth, back and forth, and when his head swung along with it his mom’s hands, stirring the pan, popped in and out of view from behind the milk carton. He smiled softly to himself now, taking stock of how he was standing. How similar it was. Was she making curry that day?

If Bakugou couldn’t remember exactly what she said, he could make a pretty good guess on how she’d phrase it. He just knew her that well. He could hear her now - it'd have gone something like this:

“You see, when they first started puttin’ the nutrition facts on the packages of food products, back in, like, the 1920s, the chemists had a field day. I mean, really, they ran that industry.”

Katsuki didn’t know what industry was, but he liked hearing his mama talk.

“And at that time, chemistry wasn’t what it is now. It wasn’t molecules and atomic structure and that kinda thing, it was grams of this and milliliters of that. Still, that was more than regular people knew, so it was left to the specialists.”

She held the spatula out for him to lick. He took it in two chubby hands.

“More spice, mama.”

“Whatever you say, baby. And wipe your chin.” He used the bottom of his shirt, but she didn’t say anything. His dad wasn’t around for that kind of thing.

“Don’t get me wrong, knowing what’s in your food is great.” She gestured carelessly with the lick-marked spatula before plunging it back into the curry. “Certainly better than whatever was going on before. They used to put cocaine in Coca-Cola, you know.”

“What’s cocaine, mama?”

“A drug, baby. Makes you go crazy for a while. Don’t go trying it, and don’t go repeating it - though I suppose that’s hard in earnest, it’s what the ‘Coca’ in Coca-Cola is named after.”

“It’s named after D-RUGS??” Katsuki sat forward in his seat, but the squeaky leg cursed a whine at him and he sat back.

“That’s right: Drugs,” Mitsuki said to her eight-year old, her eyes wide. “Though people don’t make that connection anymore so they didn’t ever rebrand. They used to drink Coca-Cola when people got sick. It cleared out your sinuses, sure, but it also made you shout really loud and go streaking through the park. Ha! Anyway, where was I?”

“The. Uh… oh, the nutriss- nuturish-”

“Ah, nutritional facts. Say it with me, baby: Nutrition. Noo-trish-un.”

“Nutrition,” they said together. Katsuki smiled. Bet dumb Deku doesn’t know that one.

“So, the legacy of old-fashioned chemistry is that the nutritional value of foods isn’t really evaluated beyond the physical makeup of the food.” These were big words but Katsuki got the gist, and Mitsuki knew that. “It doesn’t tell you what those things do for you and your body, beyond ‘fat is bad, protein is good,’ and even that’s just considered on a physical level in regards to your body. There is so much more to food mentally, and emotionally, that goddamn counts as nutrition.”

“God-damn.”

“Yeah, don’t say that,” she said half-heartedly. “And I don’t just mean ‘veg out whenever you need it solely because it makes you feel good.’ Don’t totally disregard physical nutrition. I mean that food making you feel good shouldn't be totally disregarded either. Spices, for instance.” Katsuki cheered from his seat. “Yeah, you like spice.

“Food should taste good. It drives me up the goddamn wall when I see those health bitches on the TV drain out the grease from their meat. Right down the sink. That’s what makes it taste good! If you don’t want grease, eat turkey! And the ‘nutritional’ benefits of draining the grease hardly outweigh the emotional satisfaction of a good-tasting meal. At that point, it’s just a practice in self-sabotage, in pointless, self-inflicted suffering. And for what, so you get kudos from Nestle, who happens to be rolling out their new line of trans-fat free crackers? Please.”

She ladled the curry onto a plated bed of rice with a sigh. The smell made Katsuki’s tummy gurgle. He licked his lips really slowly, the same way he saw Spongebob do on the TV that morning.

“Anyway, my point is - when something tastes good, that’s good nutrition. Being healthy is being happy, and if the food you’re eating makes you happy, that is healthy. I’ll eat my pickles whole from the jar, even if Dr. Oz gives me a lip about ‘it’s too much sodium,’ and do you know why? Because I love the crunch of a fresh pickle, and I know that as sure as I know that there’s two grams of carbs in it because the sticker on the side tells me so. I know I love it so I do it, and that’s a beautiful thing. That’s something I deserve.”

She slid the steaming plate, loaded with peas, potatoes, and carrots in curry, across the table to her son. He reached for the fork, but she snapped it away at the last second. Katsuki looked into his mom’s eyes. “Say it back to me, baby: ‘Food should taste good.’”

“Food should taste good, mama.”

“I deserve this good food.”

“I… I deserve this good food.”

“That’s my baby, now eat up.”

A tear squeezed through Bakugou’s eyes at the memory, and fell down his cheek into the pan. He didn’t even remember the last part until it all ran through his head.

God, he couldn’t help it, and there was no one around to prove anything to - he made the effort to muffle himself with shallow breaths, but he let the tears flow free and hot down their tracks. This time they reached his chin. He asked the ceiling, berating himself on how foolish he was to think it would answer: did he still even deserve it?

#bakugou watched spongebob its cannon #idk how to write without long stretches of dialogue in the form of how I talk to people once im immediately comfortable w them #mitsuki as a good mom #let the kid say fuck #bakugou katsuki #bnha #mha #bnha fic #mintbiscuitswrites