#gravity burrito ask

[ddejavvu]

hi!! I have a request for james potter (this is something that happened to me recently and it made me so upset). Could you do mean!gf (being mean is her love language and someone tells her that shes a bad girlfriend to james, but james knows that its her love language) and she asks james if shes a bad gf??? like angst/comfort kinda

You pose the question over dinner, but perhaps that's unfair seeing as James feels the need to gape at it, and his meal succumbs to the unforgiving force of gravity. An obscene half-chewed lump of rice and beans escapes his mouth and he apologizes hurriedly for the mess, still struggling to comprehend what you've sprung upon him.

"Shit- say that again?" He asks, scrubbing fruitlessly at the brown stain on his blue shirt, napkin wet with condensation from his glass.

"Am I a bad girlfriend?" You repeat, each letter striking an axe against your heart until you're sure it'll crack with a jagged edge like you're a Saturday morning cartoon.

"No, I did hear you correctly the first time," James concludes, mumbling more to himself than to you and grimacing at the sheer audacity of your words, "I- darling, I don't really know what to say to that. I mean- fuck no, 'f course, but- but why are you asking? What made you think that?"

"Someone told me I was," You shrug, your fork looking rather sullen as you drag it listlessly around the salsa on your plate that's leaked from the soft tortilla layer of your burrito.

"Who?"

"Doesn't matter. Someone who knows us. That's what matters."

"Did they tell you why?" James asks, careful not to prod at their identity, even if that's on the forefront of his mind.

"'Said I'm always mean to you." You murmur, "And- and I think I am."

"You're not mean to me," James scrunches his nose, confusion filling the wrinkles that appear there, "But- well, you're not always mean to me, but I like it when you are."

"It's not funny." You tell James, decidedly somber even in the wake of his reassurance, "I called you dumb the other day."

"Well, darling, I had been boxing with the toaster because it wouldn't toast my bread, and you came up behind me and informed me that it wasn't plugged in. That was dumb."

You bite your lip, and James hopes you're withholding a smile.

"Well. That was dumb, but you aren't. And you're not any of the other mean things I say about you, either."

"I like it when you're mean to me." He repeats, "You're nice to the people you don't like, and you're mean to the people you do like. You're just a bit like a broken compass, darling, but I'd walk south for miles if I was following you."

In order to avoid splitting your lip open with the harsh force of your bite you chew words instead, and spit them out, "You're cheesy."

"And you're mean," James grins, "But that's the way I like you, and y'can't be a bad girlfriend if I like the way you are."

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #james potter one shot #james potter one-shot #james potter headcanon #james potter headcanons #james potter hc #james potter hcs #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter dialogue #james potter fluff #james potter x reader fanfiction

[howtofightwrite]

If a character can manipulate points of gravity (up becomes down, left is down, right is down for yhe duration of the scene) and essentially be a spiderman without the spider webs by getting to run up buildings, and essentially be fighting in a more 3-d space...anything worth commenting on? I think what I'm trying to ask is what should one take into account when it's possible to have fight scenes in three dimensional ways. I recall that you wrote a post about how sea battles would technically look nothing like land battles considering the environmental difference of enemies coming at *all* directions.

That's not, really, “all directions.” For one thing, they don't have to worry about your character phasing through solid objects. It's also not going to be as effective as the web shooters for avoiding fire.

One of the quirks of Spiderman is that he doesn't, and really can't, travel in a straight line. He travels in a series of arcs, and while those arcs are predictable, it's much harder to lead your shots when he can jerk away in a different direction with almost no warning.

This is in contrast to characters with gravity manipulation based flight, who tend to travel in straight lines.

The issue with a battle in the sea comes from this basic concept. If you're a mile underwater in the Pacific, it is quite likely that there is another four miles of water below you, with the nearest land thousands of miles away. There is no cover.

Somewhat obviously, an urban environment offers a lot more cover. Your character can come in around buildings, drop from above.

What's significantly more disturbing is the prospect of your character being able to alter gravity for others. Causing someone to “fall” away into traffic or the sky is probably far more horrifying than the idea that they could run up a wall. Though, I suppose it's important to never underestimate the sheer pants shitting terror one can inflict by crab-walking across the ceiling towards your preferred prey.

Of course if you're manipulating gravity, then it stands to reason you may be able to add or subtract the gravity. It's one thing to sneak up on a mobster and propel him into the sky at 9.8m/s2. It's another thing to casually create a small gravity well inside his brain and crush his skull. Or, an anti-gravity spike and explode him like a forgotten microwave burrito.

It should go without saying by this point, but this power set can get really messy.

It's also worth remembering, this is one of those power sets that are just as dangerous to the user as their foes. Hopping from one building to another while flicking gravity mid flight could very easily result in broken bones and a really unpleasant landing. Unless they also have some pretty significant kinetic resistances, this is probably not something they'd want to use as a travel power (unless they're carefully tuning it to create fight.) Otherwise, inertia is their greatest foe.

To be honest, wall climbing is a slightly strange choice for a primary travel power. Yes, it is a viable choice, but using those same powers to take flight is going to be much less risky.

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #how to fight write #starke answers

[crownofstardustandbone]

Of Wildfires and Dandelions

Sequel to "Of Second Chances and Small Joys" and "Of Wedding Dances and Gravity"

Buck leans heavily against his front door, aching and exhausted down to his bones after an emergency three day shift in the wake of raging forest fires that had left death and devastation in their wake and have him feeling shaken and in desperate need of comfort.

A warm hand wraps around the nape of his neck and he almost sobs with relief, sinking back into the heat of the body pressing against him as his keys are plucked from his fingers and Tommy unlocks his door. He lets himself be guided into the house and stays where Tommy pushes him against the counter for a moment as he locks Buck’s door and tosses his keys into the bowl on the counter.

Tommy holds out a hand, his eyes sad and understanding and Buck’s throat goes painfully tight as his vision swims with unshed tears and he takes it, grateful for the way that Tommy reels him in and holds him close. He struggles against the urge to break down, to not focus on all the scorched bodies he’d pulled from the rubble, or the scent of seared flesh and smoke that’s still clinging to him, but it’s impossible to ignore.

“Please,” he whispers brokenly and Tommy makes a soft crooning sound and cups the back of his head, rocking him in place as he finally start to shatter apart—breath wet and hitching as the tears start falling. Tommy holds him through it as he shakes and cries, until eventually he’s got nothing left but hollow exhaustion.

“C’mon Ev,” Tommy murmurs, stepping back a little and taking his hand, leading him upstairs and into the bathroom where his big hands strip them both in quick efficient moves that would normally turn him on, but at the moment all they elicit is a deep sense of gratitude.

The water is hot when Tommy guides him into the shower, and his hands are gentle as he uses a soaped up loofah to scrub the blood and soot and grime from Buck’s skin, the water eventually running clear between their feet. When Tommy scrubs his hair for him Buck melts into it, breathing shakily as a deep sense of tenderness invades his chest and leaves him feeling cracked open and raw.  

Tommy washes himself quickly and Buck feels terrible for not reciprocating, and it must be on his face because Tommy captures his face in both hands and kisses him softly. “It’s okay,” he whispers, “we’re okay.” Buck swallows hard but nods minutely and seeks out his mouth for another kiss, another tear slipping out at how raw he feels inside, quickly washed away by the water pouring over both of them.

They stay like that until the water starts to cool and Buck is swaying with exhaustion, eyes barely able to stay open as Tommy ushers him out and dries him off, hands competent and sure as he gets Buck into a clean pair of briefs and then pushes him into the cool sheets on his bed. He watches through heavy lids as Tommy dries himself off and tosses the towel over the door, droplets of water still gleaming on his broad back as he pulls on his own briefs.

Tommy smiles softly at him as he round the bed and slips under the covers with him, pulling Buck back against his chest and holding him close as exhaustion takes them both over and they slip deep into slumber’s embrace.

When he wakes up, the bed is empty beside him but there’s a small bundle of dandelions on the pillow next to him and Buck grins, tucking his face into his pillow as a flush rises on his cheeks. He hears footsteps on the stairs and looks up, heart leaping in his chest when he sees Tommy’s sleep rumpled hair and soft gaze, admiring his strong physique for a moment before his attention is grabbed by the breakfast burritos and orange juice on a tray that he’s carrying.

“Are those from the place on the corner?” Buck asks hopefully, voice low and raspy from smoke inhalation and screaming.

Tommy nods and rests a knee on the bed before transferring the tray into Buck’s lap and putting the small bundle of dandelions on the tray beside the food.

Buck strokes their golden petals softly, smiling at them for a moment before lifting his gaze to Tommy, “You picked these for me?” he asks, already knowing the answer, the blush that rises on Tommy’s cheeks taking him by surprise.

Tommy nods and slips under the covers next to him, leaning his big broad shoulders back against the headboard. “I like ‘em,” he says softly, “they mean strength and resilience and I dunno, they remind me of you, of how strong you are,” he says shyly, shoulders up around his ears and Buck’s heart clenches so hard in his chest with affection that he can barely breathe for a moment.

Shoving the tray of food down the bed he pushes aside the blankets and settles himself in a surprised Tommy’s lap, hands going to cup his face like Tommy does to him so often and then kisses him, long and slow and sweet. Tommy’s arms wrap around his waist and hold him close as they kiss and kiss and kiss, until it’s hard to breathe and Buck feels alive and free, happier than he’s ever thought he could be with a partner.

Eventually he’s forced to break apart so they can breathe and he feels it when Tommy’s lips curl into a smile against his.

“What was that for sweetheart?” Tommy asks and Buck’s suddenly choked up by the intensity of the emotion he feels at that simple pet name, of how good things are with them, and he has to shake his head and breathe for a moment, lean back and grab the dandelions and twist them between his fingers so their scent is released into the air.

“You make me so happy,” Buck finally says softly, “I feel better when I see you smile, and I’ve never had someone take care of me like you do. It just…it means a lot to me Tommy,” he says quietly, cheeks hot with emotion, and when he chances a glance up from the flowers he finds Tommy’s eyes are bright with emotion just as his own must be and his heart turns over in his chest.

“You make me happy too sweetheart,” Tommy says, voice thick and low, thumbs stroking gently at Buck’s hipbones. “I like taking care of you, being with you,” he murmurs.

Buck hums happily and twirls the dandelions, “So, you don’t think I need to make a wish on these to keep you, to have you be mine?” he asks shyly, heart thumping hard in his chest as Tommy stares at him, a beautiful smile growing on his face with every breath they take.

“No,” Tommy murmurs as he leans in, “no I don’t think you gotta wish for that, I’m already yours,” he whispers before his lips press against Buck’s and he’s lost in the embrace.

Tommy pushes him back back back into the sheets, still kissing him, and the flowers get lost between them, crushed and fragrant as they kiss until their lips are bruised and hot.

The sheets smell like dandelions long after they both leave the bed, after they’ve gone to another shift of saving lives, after it should have long washed away—because every day that they’re here, Tommy brings him another small bouquet and Buck falls a little more in love with him.  

#bucktommy #buck x tommy #911 abc

[in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather]

[Starship Icarus] IV

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Summary: Mills finally meets his sleepin' gal.

WC: ~5.8K

*

You woke up as if from a grumpy nap as a child. Had you been a teenager, you would have rolled over, wrapping your blanket around you like a burrito and asked for five more minutes. Followed by trying to sleep for an hour or more.

The screen rose into view as your pod tilted. Your body gradually became accustomed to weight and gravity again, in a way that made you aware of the endless vessels carrying fluids all throughout the landscape of your flesh. You shuddered at the sensation and only listened to the voice greeting you and guiding you out of stasis without opening your eyes.

“We have nearly completed the voyage from Earth to Homestead II, where you begin your exploratory mission. Homestead II is the second planet outside Earth’s solar system to be colonized and the first in the Bhakti system to be explored,” she spoke in her serene, mechanical voice and you started testing out your newly awakened body. Deep breath, balling up a fist, swallow, blink, neck pop. The pod, cracked open like an egg from which you were meant to hatch, wheeled you to the door.

“…the Icarus is on final approach. For the next four months, you’ll enjoy space travel at its most luxurious.” You huffed an unimpressed little laugh and you were satisfied your contrariness was intact after a century in deathlike-sleep.

“…let’s get you to your cabin where you can get some rest.”

*

You remained in your cabin only long enough to follow the protocol, drink some resurrection juice and receive your luggage. It was nice and spacious in there, and you were gratified your Moroccan leather pouf was already waiting. You could immediately tell you’d be taking it easy and resting for a day or two until you were feeling more like yourself. A relaxing bout of reading with your feet up on the pouf and some fragrant tea steaming in a mug sounded heavenly.

As soon as you were out of your stasis gown and dressed in your own clothes, you went out in search of the other passengers. It was a little eerie to be alone, with only holos and machines for company.

“Hello?” you called out softly, voice still croaky from disuse. “Anybody around?” you asked casually, not wanting to come across as too eager or discombobulated. Silly thing to worry about in the face of colonizing a new planet.

A figure of a tall man shimmered behind a fountain and you stopped for a moment. Still groggy, you wondered if you weren’t just seeing weird shadows. Surely, the polite thing would have been to respond if he’d seen you. “Hi?” you offered, prepared to feel silly if you’d just greeted a mechanical ficus or a waylaid coat rack.

“Hi,” he responded in a gravelly voice and finally came fully into view as you passed the fountain. You watched each other in silence for a few moments. On your end, you were trying not to give him blatant elevator eyes or burst into girlish giggles. He looked right out of superhero central casting, the kind of ruggedly good-looking that was reserved for Brawny man commercials and bodice-ripper front covers.

Gingerly, as if he might scare you off, he took a few tentative steps closer. You did the same and stopped when there was a friendly, but polite distance left between you. “Are you passenger or crew?”

“Passenger. Julian Mills,” he was looking at you without blinking. He was probably just as disoriented as you.

You gave him your name and extended a hand. Julian looked at it oddly. It felt like offering a starving man a juicy steak. When he took it, his hand large and pleasantly warm, he held it for a long moment.

“I didn’t see anyone else from my row wake up yet. What about yours?” you asked, still more sleepwalking than awake. He stopped shaking your hand, but still held it.

“Same on my end.”

Thoughts were slow to crawl through the fog of your brain. It was increasingly frustrating to feel yourself sluggishly process information that should be received instantly. “The crew is supposed to wake up a month before we do,” you observed, looking around, somehow already knowing you wouldn’t find anyone else. The reassuring sheath of his hand around yours slipped away as you twisted around.

*

God, she was quick on the uptake. It had taken Mills hours and a long bout of sleep to even get his brain working again. She was quick and smart and beautiful. And he loved her so much already.

“I haven’t seen anybody else so far,” she added, confused, but hopeful.

His heart squeezed guiltily. He knew living with his actions would be difficult, but it felt worse in ways he could not have anticipated. “The crew is still asleep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, ma’am.”

“Miss,” she corrected and he wanted to smile at that. It was the snippy tone he recognized from before and his chest melted like honey. “That makes me feel ancient.”

“Miss.”

“Um, back to the topic at hand,” she still felt loopy and it showed. “Who’s going to land the ship? We’re arriving in a few weeks.”

To make short work of it, Mills took her to the observatory. The same little panorama showing how screwed they were informed her of their whereabouts, now approximately two years closer to Homestead II than when he was there the first time.

“The others aren’t late waking up,” he said when he saw the same rejection in her expression that he felt initially. “We’re early.”

Her mind was beautifully clear and logical, so he led her down the same path he stumbled down many months before, without even needing to suggest the next steps. He battled with feeling impressed and smitten, and having to watch emerging hopelessness and panic grip the woman he loved.

The crew were in their inaccessible area, messages took decades to travel to and fro, it was impossible to break into key areas, impossible to get back into the pods.  

Finally panic set it and he let her run off, in search of her pod. He gave her time, appreciating that she would want to have whatever breakdown was to ensue privately. It was the smallest bit of decency he could afford her.

When he eventually decided he should look in on her, she was still looking for a way back in feverishly. He indulged her, letting her try to convince him there had to be a way, as desperate and incoherent as she was being. He would spend the rest of his life happily paying penance now that she was with him, indulging her until his dying breath.

He led her past the wreckage in front of her crew room, where he had been unsuccessfully trying to break in with every implement he could think of. She agreed to take a seat in and some deep breaths, a sedative if need be. He half carried her as she slumped into his side, knees wobbly from over-excitement. She paused and took in the marks of a labor than had clearly gone on for months.

“How long have you been awake?” she looked up at him and frowned. Realization sharpened her gaze and he looked for any signs of accusation, of pulling away. None yet, he was momentarily relieved.

“Close to two years.”

Her hand lifted to her lips in horror and he could swear she was about to cry.

“Come on, it’s right through here,” he secured a firm hold around the curve of her waist and directed her towards a lounging area of the Grand Concourse.

*

“You remember the facility you had to go to? Where they put you under? The procedure has to be done with special equipment, pretty much only in lab conditions. It’s multi-faceted and it takes a long time. There is no such equipment on the ship, or anyone with expertise to do it. The pods we were in are just designed to maintain stasis for a certain length of time and wake us up.”

She listened, despite all the effort it took, and Mills could see her try to stave off more fits. Her body was tightly coiled, rocking back and forth in a tiny orbit, teeth chewing anxiously on her thumbnail. She was quiet for a long time, occasionally shaking her head, in disbelief or refusal.

“I don’t want to condescend in any way, but I’ve been through what you’re feeling now. You should believe I’ve tried everything I could think of.”

“Two years…” she shook her head. Her eyes were full of pity when she looked at him again. He couldn’t stand to meet her earnest gaze for longer than a moment.

“You should sleep,” he suggested gently. “It will clear your head, I promise. You probably feel like it’s full of cotton wool now.” She wouldn’t confirm and he decided not to tell her anymore about what ‘she must be feeling’. “Drink that freaky pink stuff from the water dispenser, it’ll feel good. In the morning, you’ll… I can’t promise you’ll feel much better, but you’ll be more yourself.”

She was still too shocked to cry, as he had been at first, so she just looked defeated. Still, she stood up and opted for the correct corridor to make her way to her cabin, which was impressive.

“I can walk you to your cabin,” Mills suggested as casually as he could, even as his heart climbed into his throat and choked him. “The layout can be confusing,” he fumbled, losing confidence when she didn’t nod vigorously or give some other indication she wanted him. He should have just said I’m taking you - in fact, I’m also holding your hand. And I’ll be there first thing in the morning when you wake up.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine,” she said out of some self-sufficient, considerate habit.

She didn’t want his company. He tried not to spiral out. Sure, she’ll want to process this unimaginable calamity. However, he would have given anything, anything at all, to have someone with him on that first day. God, that first night, how awful it was, in endless solitude. And there she was, bravely walking away, sure that she would find a way to fix it.

“Almost two years…” she repeated, this time in a sigh that made him weak. “I’m so sorry you were alone for so long. It must have been torture.”

“It was,” he choked out, wondering if his face looked as guilty as his thoughts.

She shared a convivial silence with him before surrendering to her exhaustion. “Goodnight.”

*

Mills knew he would not be getting a wink of sleep that night. His blood felt like stinging electricity in his veins, shocking as it pumped through him.

“What’ll it be, Mills?” Clyde greeted in his subdued way.

“The usual.”

“How’s yer day been?” he asked just to make conversation. Mills’ paranoid brain detected a non-existent tone of accusation.

Mills swished the bourbon for a long moment, gaze lost in some private distance. “You know I have the worst luck in the world?”

“How’s that?”

“My prom date broke her leg after I asked her out – never made it to actual prom. I once gave CPR to a guy who’d been in a car crash. He sued me for fracturing some of his ribs. The company I worked for was the only one in the colonization business, right up until I was supposed to embark on the first mission. Then they went under. The one woman I’ve been unable to get out of my head is right under in front of me, right under my nose forever… and I can’t get to her.”

Clyde countered with his own programmed backstory – how his pa lost his diamond, how his uncle Stickley was electrocuted, how his ma got sick after she got their daddy’ settlement, how his brother blew his knee out and ruined a promising sports career, how he lost his hand…

“She’s awake,” Mills interrupted the story he had heard many times before, half-compunction, half-defiance.

There was only one she Mills had mentioned in all these months, so Clyde did not need to ask for clarification. “Congratulations,” he offered and Mills stared back, face not displaying the usual markers of happiness or satisfaction around the eyes or mouth.

“That’s whatcha wanted,” Clyde prompted, as though Mills’ circuitry failed for a moment and he was trying to get it back on track.

Mills could have strangled him. For the crime of being completely right.

“Ya don’t look happy,” the bartender noted and waited for an explanation.

“Can androids keep secrets?” Mills asked, realizing he should have wondered about that much sooner.

“I dunno ’bout androids, but gentlemen can,” Clyde responded solemnly, “and I consider myself one.”

Mills nodded. “Don’t tell her.”

“Don’t tell her what?” Clyde asked back earnestly. To him, borrowing her pen and waking her out of stasis were probably on par and he needed explicit instructions as to what to keep from her.

“Don’t tell her that I woke her,” Mills hated saying it out loud. “Let me do it in my own time.”

“’Course,” Clyde agreed all too easily, blissfully bereft of morals.

*

What if she likes short blond dudes? Mills wondered as he lay sideways on his prison cot of a bed. Still wide awake, he had his hands folded behind his head, eyes staring unseeing into the creamy ceiling. Some Aryan ideal? Maybe a British accent? A long coke nail? A nipple ring? He could be as much not her type as she was perfectly his.

How long, then, before she was ready to give in? To touch him like he craved, even if she didn’t really like him at all? It seemed an inevitability, even if he hadn’t known, from the earliest memories as a boy breaking hearts on the playground, to his exploits as an adult, precisely the kind of effect he had on women. What a sick thought, and one he kept having despite himself, counting greedily down to it.

*

It had been years since you woke up crying. The last time had been from a nightmare when you were still a teen. You’d forgotten it was possible to wake up already sobbing and salty with tears.

That next morning, you’d arisen, implausibly, even more desperate and disconsolate. If it even was morning. If time was reckoned the same way out here, or reckoned at all. If it was, then it was inexorably ticking down to your death, hurtling towards you like those glittering, burning stars sprinkled around your charging ship, dragging you into oblivion and making your fleeting existence truly pointless.

*

“No hibernation pod has malfunctioned in thousands of interstellar flights,” the holo assured you.

“I’m telling you, mine has!”

“Hibernation pods are failsafe,” it responded contentedly and Julian recognized the same conversation he once had as he approached.

“And yet, I’m awake! What a conundrum, hm?” you planted your hands on your hips, as though scolding. He took in the pose and smiled sadly.

“Dumb machine,” you muttered when you realized you’d get nowhere with that piece of junk.

“Happy to help!”

You gave it the middle finger as you turned to leave and join Julian on the way to the mess hall.

*

Behind you, there was a failure with the greeter holo. Its blue light blinked erratically and powered down, the blue circles along its crescent base turning black as they died one by one. You were too frustrated to look back and Julian was too distracted by you. He walked up to your side, eyeing the small of your back and the swell of your ass under it, hand tingling with desire to rest.... on either one. He missed how the sphere flickered and shut down. Deep in the bowels of the ship, red letters flashed warnings on screens before guttering out. No burial was had and their ghosts were snatched piecemeal out of the ether by other systems, carrying on some of their work, while the other bits, both crucial and banal, stopped like broken clocks.

*

“Have you eaten?”

“No. And I could eat a horse,” she said unselfconsciously and he nodded.

“Gold class breakfast,” the dispenser announced when he was already seated. The unfamiliar pronouncement made him crane his neck curiously.

She carried over a tray laden with food and tucked into it as soon as she sat down. They ate in silence until she had to come up for air. It was then she noticed his soylent beige and black coffee. “Yeesh. I feel like a glutton,” she muffled, a big bite still filling out her cheeks.

He shrugged. He was enjoying the sight of her delighting in her meal too much to care about having the same gruel for the millionth day in a row. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just not a gold class passenger.”

“What?” she frowned and her hand shot up in front of her mouth in case some food came flying out. Mills was amused to see her eyes widen as the information soaked in. “No way! Are you kidding me? What is this wannabe class bullshit?” she was outraged and he ached at the fact that she could muster this emotion for him in the middle of all her turmoil.

He just shrugged again, trying not to grin around his spoon of bland soylent. He should have realized this revelation would incense her proletariat spirit.

“Have you been…eating just that? This whole time?” she tried to ask evenly, not to make him feel bad.

“For breakfast, yeah,” he said. It had been so long that he just couldn’t bother being upset about it anymore.

She, however, shot out of her seat. “Let me get you something! What do you want?” she entreated, flustered with the desire to do something kind for him. It was such a genuine compassionate act that guilt overwhelmed him again. What would she do if she knew, he wondered while she made her way over and examined the menu.

“Nah, I’m fine,” he protested half-heartedly. He had never been much of a fruit and veggie guy back home, but over a year in, he would take kale and rambutan and kumquat and fucking chard, just to remember how much he didn’t enjoy any of it.

She slid a tray heavy with food in front of him, from crispy bacon and hashbrowns, to scones and cut up papaya and dragon fruit, with some foamy coffee that smelled overly sweet. But he’d be damned if he didn’t down that odious concoction all the same.

He stabbed some dragon fruit with its Dalmatian dots embedded in the white flesh, chuckling at the sight.

“You like dragon fruit?” she asked, slowly recovering from her mortification.

“I hate it!” Mills proclaimed happily and popped it into his mouth.

*

During the day, and the next several ones, you kept suggesting different options. Checking out the infirmary, the cargo hold, the comms room, building your own pods…

We can’t do that, Julian would reply, or that didn’t work, I already did it, as he shot every idea down.

“You’re not even considering—” you snapped, losing the battle to frustration.

“I’ve considered all of it,” Julian assured, effortlessly patient. “I’ve tried it, I promise you. Everything you can think of, and then countless other things.”

He seemed ready to settle down and give into this trudge into the void. The mere thought of it made your pulse skyrocket and sent you hyperventilating.

“I’m not ready to give up,” you said unsteadily as your breath kept sliding out of your lungs without ever oxygenating you.

*

For the next few days, you consciously avoided Julian as you put your ideas into action. You tried and failed, just like he said you would.

Eventually, to keep yourself busy and try to make sense of some of your thoughts, you started keeping a log. Whether it would become a personal diary or a document you would try to submit in order to detail what happened to you and Julian to the company, you were not yet sure.

“Why did you do it?” you asked as you approached the desk where he tinkered with something that looked like half of a set of binoculars.

He looked up like a TV frozen on an uncanny distorted image.

“Join the mission,” you clarified as you pulled out the notes you’d been keeping for your log. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been thinking of making some notes… Not sure for what yet, but I was wondering if you’d let me interview you?”

“Sure,” he became warmer again and put down what he was working on without complaint. “But what do I have to say that would interest anyone?”

“You are the first hibernation failure in the history of space travel. The first recorded one, at least,” you added with your distrustful tone and he smiled at that. He really could be distractingly handsome and you had to consciously hold back from trying to tease out more of those rakish smiles. “That’s major news.”

“Mh,” he nodded, “I’d love to be regarded as the first and biggest failure in something,” he had a delightfully sardonic wit and you smiled for the first time in days.

“You’re not in bad company.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“The Wright Brothers,” you supplied and he leaned his head side to side, weighing your words.

“Henry Ford, Albert Einstein...”

“You’re making me blush,” he gave a coy flick of the wrist, so at odds with his classical masculinity.

“Thomas Edison,” you added the last name that usually followed on that list.

“His fortune turned, I believe, when he started stealing,” he noted with a shrewd look on his face.

“Yeah. Forget that asshole,” you conceded.

“I take your point,” he said and added in a smaller voice, “it’s very kind of you.”

You interviewed him and learned not just about his life, but the hushed up history of the mission to Homestead II. Julian relayed how he was first advised to take a demotion, and after the company was almost bought out by some deranged South African autocrat rich off his parents’ blood diamond legacy, suddenly the old crew were no longer eligible. He also detailed the many months of solitude, replete with a vacillating mental state and copious misadventures. Although he didn’t pity himself or linger on the details, he was candid and you felt comfortable asking whatever question came into your head.

“And do you think you’ve, for lack of a better word, resigned yourself to this situation?” you couldn’t look him in the eyes as you asked that. You were too conflicted and that look would surely hurt him to see.

“I’m not entirely sure. A lot can happen in a day, let alone a year or a decade. So I can’t say I’m resigned. But I understand how it can seem that way to you,” he said kindly and waited until you looked back at him. “You don’t have to accept any of this. You’ve just woken up. It must be irreconcilable and unthinkable to you now—”

You shook your head. “I’m scared of accepting it, and doing it so effortlessly. It’s actually so much easier to give in than I anticipated. I expected... I had more fight in me than that.”

He leaned in closer, moving with urgency. “It’s not ab-,” he started passionately, but then rephrased, “I don’t’ think it’s about being brave or strong. You also need to see sense and recognize reality. And you seem to be… scarily good at that.”

You gave a bitter laugh. “Reality is something I can’t wrap my head around. To be traveling, until the end of my natural lifespan – which is effectively forever – and never arriving. I’ve never… conceptualized futility on such a stark level.”

Julian let the angst hang in the air, giving it the respect it demanded. Then he sighed and tried to approach you from another angle. “A wise android once told me that you shouldn’t get so hung up on where you’d rather be and squander the chance to enjoy where you are.”

You pursed your lips and considered.

“I’m sure it sounds like a platitude now, but it’s helped me in some ways over time.” Julian didn’t press for any answer or acceptance out of you, placidly returning to his work and sitting with you in companionable silence.

“Thank you,” you said after a while.

“What for?” he scoffed, sounding amused.

“For everything,” you didn’t want to embarrass him and enumerate all the small kindnesses and comforts he had provided to you as you woke up and realized the situation you were in.

It was obvious in his expression he did not think he had helped much. You hoped to change his mind. With any luck, he wouldn’t begrudge you avoiding him earlier.

“I should meet this Clyde,” you shifted to brighter topics, “he sounds like a character.” You had yet to meet the android bartender. Drinking or sitting in some simulacrum of a bar didn’t sound very appealing before, but you might as well check out more of the ship, you reasoned.

“Let’s go for a drink tonight, then,” Julian floated the idea. You couldn’t tell if he really was as nonchalant as he seemed, or if his eyes were trained on the object in his hands strategically, to give off that appearance.

You decided he probably wasn’t thinking of it as a date, but you could still feel the intent of him, filling the space around you. His presence, heavy and commanding, even when he didn’t mean to exert it over you.

“Yeah, sounds good,” you responded, suddenly preoccupied with your pad. You thought you felt him steal a glance as you looked away and it took great effort not to smile to yourself.

*

In her absence, Mills had noticed one of the little roombas repeatedly run into a corner as he walked by it on one of those lonely days. He didn’t think much of it. Its sensor could have broken or he himself could have been fucking with it too much out of sheer boredom that it somehow malfunctioned. After pondering whether he should bother trying to repair it, he decided not to since there were enough of those critters crawling around.

As they walked towards their cabins, through one of the pod rooms, he noticed two roombas rolling on as normal and was satisfied with his earlier decision.

“So now that all of this happened, do you still think sending large numbers of people on such missions is a good idea?” she probed. He was thinking about the same thing, watching them clustered together in their life-sustaining coffins.

“I think they would say yes,” he evaded the question, “you can’t categorize people into yes’s or no’s, ones and zeroes.”

“Homestead can. Into zeroes in its account.”

“I don’t dispute that. But you can’t know all these 5,000 people and their reasons to participate. Some of them could be very good.”

“Maybe so, but I know people at large really well. And I’m good at seeing when they’re being exploited.”

“But what about who they are? What drove them to be here? This guy?” he picked out a familiar face. “Can you tell anything about him? Is he a banker, teacher, or gardener?” he asked playfully and she accepted the challenge, peering over the lid.

He looked stern, with defined, robust features, austere even in repose. “Banker,” she guessed as he thought she would.

“Gardener.”

She frowned. “Probably gardens some gnarly, mean looking plants.”

“Madison, Donna, or Lola?” he covered the information plate on another pod and cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Donna. That fits a redhead.”

“Madison.”

“No way!” she peeled his hand off and checked her name. It was true. Mills was grateful she took some time to look on, taking in her face and reading the information about her because he was still reeling from feeling her skin on his again. “Midwife,” she said wistfully and her face fell. “Right. Some babies are bound to be born up there.”

He could feel them both carefully avoid the other’s eyes. Babymaking was an unhelpful thought to linger on just then. “Another sucker selling a useful profession?” he guessed at her thoughts.

“No. I mean, yes, it’s useful. But I was just thinking… It’s silly. But it occurred to me how we probably would have been friends.”

“You think you can tell these things?” Mills asked, living and dying a hundred times in the space it took her to respond.

“Of course. You know these things instinctively. Call it what you want, intuition, ancestral wisdom, something you carry in your bones. We’re still humans, even if we’ve soared among the stars. We’d gravitate to each other,” she concluded and he felt lightheaded. “Besides, my grade school best friend was also named Madison,” she shrugged, “it would have been an easy point in her favor,” she tossed a smile over her shoulder and moved to keep going, but a glance to the pod next to Madison’s rooted her to the spot. He almost bumped into her and felt a cold sweat dew on his skin at the idea of touching so much of her body with so much of his.

“Alicia,” Mills sounded out her name. A-lee-see-a, he pronounced it in the correct Spanish way.

“I know her. She had a rather severe change of heart and wanted to stay back,” she double checked her information just to be sure.

“Why didn’t she?”

“I‘m not sure. I lobbied for her contract to be voided and for someone to be taken off the waiting list and take her place. But they decided not to for some reason.”

“Or she decided.”

“I don’t know… She seemed pretty adamant from what I’ve seen,” she huffed, still bothered by the situation. “It doesn’t seem right, you know? To make that decision for her. Force her into something she didn’t want.”

“It doesn’t,” he agreed and crossed his arms over his massive chest, determined not to fan the guilt her words ignited.

“You’d know all about that,” she muttered.

His heart stopped. “What?” he felt his shame was written plainly on his face when she turned to him.

“With your pod malfunctioning and having to deal with it alone for so long. It’s the last thing you wanted. At least she’s asleep.”

She sensed he didn’t want to talk about it, and he let her fall quiet. Then she rubbed his arms in support and he felt even worse.

*

Mills was already waiting at the bar when she came around the corner. The still unfamiliar rhythm of her steps as they approached through the Grand Concourse folded a thousand origami cranes in his gut and they all soared, pulling his heavy body with their flight as he turned to look at her.

She had on a simple outfit of black turtleneck and high-waisted checked skirt, with a pair of what his onetime fiancée would refer to as sensible heels. She was breath-taking.

He smiled as he got up to greet her, like a proper gentleman, and offered his hand to help her hop up onto the stool. “You look wonderful,” he tried not to sound licentious and make things awkward.

If she was flustered, she didn’t show it too badly. “Well, I packed this. I thought I might as well wear it.”

“Sure,” he nodded slyly. He wasn’t about to let her reject the compliment. “And you look wonderful in it.”

Finally, she relented and tried not to smile too broadly. “Thank you. You both look very handsome,” she glanced from him to Clyde with a hint of humor in her voice.

“Clyde’s a sharp dresser for sure,” Mills joined in and Clyde accepted the compliment.

For a time, Clyde was prompted to recount some of Mills’ notable misadventures over the last two years, including his nudist period, his Rasputin phase, and the mini Olympics he staged with the roombas. When the laughter died down, what swam to the surface was the awareness that all of these stories took place owing to his unfortunate circumstances. He felt both himself and his awoken girl beset with a feeling of emptiness.

Mills looked over at her and she let him look for a long moment. “I can’t think about all of this anymore, Julian,” she sighed and his name on her lips felt like a kiss as it floated to him. “I’m hitting the same walls a thousand times… It’s too sad.”

“Let’s not talk about it for a while, then?” he leapt at the suggestion and offered his hand in a deal.

She gave his eagerness a smile and took his hand. When she shook on it and squeezed, it was confident. “Just… be my neighbor,” she asked amicably.

Mills nodded to himself, considering. Still holding her hand, he leaned over the bar and Clyde came close to hear him.

The song that was playing on the jukebox scratched to a halt and after a few beats of silence, a new, familiar melody tinkled its lullaby tune on a glockenspiel. Then a marimba filled out the tinny sounds and a piano joined smoothly.

It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood, the song started and she bent over with a laugh.

A beautiful day for a neighbor, the sweet voice went on and Mills tugged on her hand, inviting her to dance.

Would you be mine? Could you be mine?

She relented and followed him a few steps away from the bar. He placed a hand in a respectful, neighborly spot on her waist, and she did the same, on his shoulder.

It's a neighborly day in this beautywood

A neighborly day for a beauty

Would you be mine? Could you be mine?

They swayed together to the melody that was equally as sad as it was sweet. It fit the mood better than anything he could have planned for in advance.

I have always wanted to have a neighbor, just, like, you, she tap-tap-tapped to the beat into his chest with her index finger and he watched her fondly.

I've always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you, he mouthed the line, watching from her eyes to her lips, down her neck, and then he hit the brakes, before he got too un-neighborly.

So, let's make the most of this beautiful day,

Since we're together, we might as well say,

Would you be mine? Could you be mine?

Won't you be my neighbor?

Even Clyde tore his eyes away from his little glass as they danced, recognizing the image before him as one of classic, universal romance.

*

@thegrislady @safarigirlsp @lumberjack00fantasies @queeniebee @vedavan @house-of-cadwyn

#commander mills x you #commander mills x reader #65 movie

[hankwritten]

Feeding False Information to the Audience

Day 6: NIGHTMARES (Flash Fire)

“It’s serious Scout.”

“I know it’s serious! What makes you think I ain’t taking this seriously?”

Pyro gestures.

“You just pointed at all of me,” Scout says.

They’ve been dating for three months now, Pyro should know that Scout can buckle down and pay attention when he wants to. It’s just most of the time he doesn’t want to. But for this he totally can! When Pyro had pulled him aside and said they had to have an important conversation before moving forward with their relationship, he’d totally wised up and vowed to treat this with all the gravity ever.

It’s just it’s kinda hard remembering to do that every second of every minute. His mind wanders sometimes, and even as Pyro leads him to their room in the barracks and makes him sit on the bed, he gets antsy and fidgets with his bandages. Not his fault Pyro has a million things in their room! He reads the posters even though he’s read them a million times, his eyes sliding off the words like familiar tracks through the snow. He gazes into the eyes of the stuffed animals like they’re gateways into the abyss.

But when Pyro pulls up a chair across from him, he focuses. “There is something I have to tell you about.”

“Cool. Is it fire related?”

“No.”

“Uh…baseball related?”

“No.”

“Beating chucklenuts in their chuckle nuts?”

“No.”

“Then I’m out of ideas for the usual topics of conversation.”

“It wasn’t an invitation for you to guess, Scout.” They fold their gloves in their lap, looking down nervously. “It’s a confession.”

“Oh.” He tries to straighten up. “I’m listening.”

“It’ll be easier if I show you. But!” They point. “Number one rule is to be cool and not freak out.”

“Okay.”

“Say it Scout!”

“Okay, okay I’ll be freaking cool and not freaking freak out.”

“Good.”

Then, they take a deep breath, reach behind their neck, and unzip their chemsuit.

What spills from within is not skin. It is not flesh. It’s not even solid, but a viscous liquid that leaks from the discarded suit and begins to fill the floor of the room with far more volume than it should have contained. Seconds after what was once Pyro is emptied, the mass balloons upward, nearly touching the ceiling, roiling with untold shapes and limbs. Maws open in the black mass, torn shapes with magma throats, and they belch out flames as the form rises to its full height.

Scout, still sitting cross-legged on the bed, observes the nightmare being before him and says, “Hot.”

“What.”

Pyro’s voice is now sung with a dozen mouths, but they all deliver the question in the exact same tone of flat bafflement.

“Thanks for like, showing your true self babe. It’s really sexy.” To illustrate, he gives a big thumbs up. “Love the confidence.”

“Usually humans scream because when they look at me they see the face of Truth and Evil.”

“Really?”

Scout tries staring at Pyro. Really staring at them, gazing into one of the openings so hard that the magma core hurts his retinas, the red light like gazing into the sun, dragging his mind further into hell with each second…

He accidentally makes eye contact with one of the stuffed animals again. Crap. He refocuses, but nope the sensation of sinking into the physical manifestation of agony is gone.

He shakes his head. “Nah, sorry pally, don’t see it.”

“That’s fine I guess, I wasn’t really asking you to.” Pyro pauses. “So. Thanks for not freaking out. I guess.”

“No problem babe,” Scout says. “Hey, did you still want to go get burritos?”

Nothing like Burrito Wednesday at Papa Guiseppe’s Mexican Food Stand. The couple usually goes after matches, except when they’re having heartfelt revelations apparently.

“…Actually it’s a bit hard to get back in the suit once I get out of it, so this was kinda my plans for the evening.”

“Nah, that’s cool, we don’t have to go every week. We can just pick up where we last left off with Bonk! Boy or something.”

Scout pulls the comics out from under his bed, leafing through until he finds the wants. It’s a bit inconvenient with Pyro reading over his shoulder this way since their infernal mouths keep accidentally almost setting the pages on fire, but hey, the things we do for love.

#flashfire #pyroscout #dnadvalentines2023 #tf2 fanfiction

[arpmemething2]

Loony Tunes Sentence Starters

Send one for my muse’s reaction.  Feel free to change pronouns as needed.

“It’s supply and demand! They supply the ghost, and I demand the money!”

“And remember, 'mud' spelled backwards is 'dum'.”

"Go ahead! I’d love to see the audience boo you off the stage!”

“Consider yourself as lucky because you are getting another chance from me to draw a gun.”

“Go on! Shoot me again! I enjoy it! I love the smell of burnt feathers and gunpowder and cordite!”

“Jumpin' without a parachute? Kinda dangerous, ain't it?”

“Don’t think it hasn’t been a little slice of heaven…’cause it hasn’t!”

“I do so enjoy observing the flora and fauna of that tiny planet.”

“I knew I shoulda taken that left turn at Albuquerque!”

“You know, sometimes me conscience bothers me… but not this time.”

“It just goes to show ya that a one-eyed jack rabbit can beat a king.”

“I didn’t say I would be nice. I said I would try. It was too hard.”

"He’s about as sharp as a bowling ball."

"What's up doc?"

“Oh dear, now I shall suppose I have to use force.”

“Help me, please. I’m too moist and tender to retire.”

“Okay Okay I'm shuttin' up. Why should I continue to keep yappin' when I'm told to shut up. I'm not the kind that don't know when to stop.”

“Ho! Ha-ha! Guard! Turn! Parry! Dodge! Spin! Ha! Thrust!”

“I wonder what the poor bunnies are doing this season?”

“Don’t take life too seriously. You’ll never get out alive!”

"What a perfect time for me to go on a diet."

“When I say whoa, I mean whoa!”

“Brace yourself for immediate disintegration.”

“I don't want to be grown up anymore.”

"You wasted a wish! I wish that burrito was stuck on your big dumb nose!"

“Carrots are devine… You get a dozen for a dime, It’s maaaa-gic!”

“The way I run this thing you'd think I knew something about it.”

"Sssshh... Be vewwy quiet.  I'm hunting wabbit!"

"Champagne nights, tropical music and a heavy bank account!"

"Thufferin' thuccotash!"

“I’m in my own little word. But it’s okay, they know me here.”

"You rack'n frack'n varmint!"

“Oh, drat these computers. They’re so naughty and so complex. I could pinch them.”

"Well, it's 5 o'clock somewhere."

“Do you happen to know what the penalty is for shooting a fricaseeing rabbit without a fricaseeing rabbit license?”

“Wait! I haven’t tried toadying, kowtowing and butt-kissing yet! I’m still begging here!”

"Cats don't lay eggs. There's something screwy here."

"Of course you realize, this means war."

"His muscles are as soggy as a used teabag."

“I know this defies the law of gravity, but I never studied law!”

"Looks like the boy genius is tryin' to show me up."

"It was a terrible storm, the boat wocked and worked up one wave and down the other."

"You're despicable."

"If you're gonna be two-faced sweetie, then atleast make one of them pretty!"

"F-f-first they told me to lose the stutter now they tell me Im not funny anymore. "

“Well, what did you expect in an opera? A happy ending?”

"That's all folks!"

"I don’t know the meaning of the word fear!"

"Beep beep!"

"I don't ask questions, I just have fun."

"Hungry!"

“Just when I’m getting used to the voices in my head, one of them starts stuttering.”

"Say your prayers!"

“Me? Normal? How dare you insult me like that?”

"You know, it is possible to be too attractive."

"I am positive, I am mental and I know I have attitude.”

“I’m not like other people, I can’t stand pain, it hurts me.”

"I tawt I taw a puddy tat!"

“Well, what do you know … there’s the little Wiener Schnitzel now.”

“If you’re happy and you know it, you're probably annoying someone who isn’t.”

"This is gonna cause more confusion than a mouse in a burlesque show!"

"Who's responsible for this unwarranted attack on my person?"

“I'll be scared later. Right now I'm too mad.”

“If an interesting monster can’t have an interesting hairdo I don’t know what this world is coming to.”

“You say the Loch Ness Monster is living in your jacuzzi? Well, call Roto-Rooter!”

“I hate it when people are at you house and ask, ‘hey do you have a bathroom?’ No not at all...”

[coy-lee]

Ahhh, a three parter... A recipe, a picture, and a fic. Beating a dead horse... NOT POSSIBLE ON THIS HORSE, I SAY!

And thank you so much to my RP partner for making this come to life! 💕

Description: Sun is still packed with energy at the end of the day, and Moon thinks up a little solution for Sun's little problem.

(It's a tickle fic, have you met me???)

Now, without further adieu, I present to you :

Sunrrito

"But Mooooon, I don't want to go into stasis yet, " Sun whined, lightly stomping his feet as he did so, little jingles emphasizing his words. The children may have all gone home, but that didn't mean that the energetic Sun had lost the spring in his step. He was often low on power by the end of the day, but just as some days were rather hectic, others went rather smoothly and required little energy to maintain a happy, healthy crowd of little hoodlums. Less running around, less power used, more energy stored at the end of the day. Today was that type of day.

Moon was happy that Sun wasn't overworked to the point of short-circuiting on those days, but the leftover energy was certainly a bother for Moon. Getting his cohort to settle down was difficult to begin with, thanks to his programing no doubt, but a Sun still eager to bounce off the walls at 10PM was especially challenging.

"I know you don't, but there's no telling what tomorrow will be like. You need to recharge and give your systems a break," Moon reasoned. He watched from his comfy spot sunken in a beanbag chair as Sun, now also sitting, bounced his right leg up and down, hands fidgeting with the ruffles that skirted his hips. The sight was uncomfortable to watch. Moon imagined it was much worse for Sun, though. The feeling of energy coursing through every wire and every circuit and not having an outlet to release the burden... It must be maddening...

Wait a moment, an outlet! A fast one that required little energy on Moon's part... An idea popped into view, as did something else, a warm, fuzzy blanket lying off to the side with the large plushies and pillows.

'That'll do just fine~' Moon though to himself. He abandoned his comfy spot to retrieve the blanket and walked to a cleared section of the floor. He let gravity unfold the blanket as he held one end, then he whipped the other end of the blanket away from himself and gently lowered his end as said blanket floated down, now lying flat.

In the meantime, Sun was still bouncing his leg,... well now it was both of them. He tried humming to himself as a distraction, but was struggling until his eyes caught Moon doing... something. What was he doing? His thoughts were cut off by the sound of his name.

"Sun, I think I've found a fun way we can cure you of your restlessness."

"REALLY!? That's great! What are we playing!? Tell me, TELL ME! " Sun rushed out rather loudly.

"Just hold your horses! First, I need you to lay down on the end of the blanket - " Sun immediately did so in record time.

"-OKAY OKAY! What next!? " Sun's enthusiasm was adorable. Moon had to keep from laughing at the sight of the excited puppy eyes staring back at him.

"Alright. Now stay still with your arms at your sides. You're going for little ride," Moon said with a smirk.

"Oooo fun! " Sun chimed, doing as he was told. Moon then kneeled on the floor next to his eager 'patient' and began to roll him over, making sure to tuck the end of the blanket under Sun as he rolled to make him nice and snug. Then, Moon freely rolled his friend all the way to the end of the blanket, Sun going "WhoaOAoaOAoaOAoa" as he rolled. After finishing his Sunny wrap, Moon had a thought that brought him to the little craft corner in their room. He found a shiny red ribbon lying on top of a pile of scraps and snatched it, saving it for later.

Now everything was in place. Sun was wrapped up in a blankie nice a tight. And of course, it just so happened that while Sun's head peeked out of one end of the blanket burrito, his feet were doing the same thing on the other end... Perfect.

"Are you comfy? " Moon asked, making his way to the lower half of the burrito.

"Oh yes! Very comfy! " Sun replied, tilting his head back to view the now upside-down room. Moon chuckled as he took a seat on Sun's blanket-wrapped shins. As he looked down at his ultimate target, he watched the adorable little dance they were doing. The star was swaying his feet side to side like he was conducting an orchestra, on occasion switching their movement to and fro. The excess energy was clearly plaguing his poor Sunny. Ah, but what he had for his dear friend was sure to fix that.

"Are you ready? "

"I was manufactured ready! "

"Alriiiight~" Moon's response caused a little pit to form in Sun's hardware.

'Why did he say it like that', he thought, though he wouldn't have to wonder much longer. He suddenly felt his slippers being slid off, their bells jingling from being discarded to the floor. Moon had his hands raised just above Sun's antsy toes, wiggling his fingers in a way that would be viewed as menacing to onlookers. A big devious grin stretched across his face as he lowered his hands just centimeters away from the centers of his captive's soles.

"Ehehehehe~" Moon snickered evilly.

"W-what's so funny? "

"Tiiiickle tickle tickle~" the devious celestial sang, fingertips finally landing on their target and gently drawing ticklish patterns up and down the bottoms of the now wildly wiggling feet.

"N-NAHAHAHOOO! WAHAHAHAIT! NAHAHAT THAHAHAHAAAT!" Sun shrieked as his bare feet were assaulted with delicate touches. Squeaks and squeals interrupted his laughter as fingers darted to focus on his heels and then suddenly the balls of his feet and then back again."MOOOOHOOHOON-AH!-EEHEEHEEHEEE!"

"Yeeees, Sunny? What's the matter~?" Moon inquired oh-so innocently.

"TIHIHICKLES! IT TICKLEHEHEHES!" the yellow animatronic responded, shaking his head and moving his feet as much as possible. He suddenly yelped as he felt claws gently trace up and down the outsides of his feet.

"NOHOHOT THEEEREEE", Sun whined.

"Not here? Then what about here?" the nighttime bot teased, immediately swiping his claws from the sides of Sun's feet, across the centers and in towards his arches.

"NAHAHAHAHAAAOOOO! GYAHAHAHAHHH! STEEHEEHEEHEE!"

"Ah, you're right. This spot is muuuch better. " Moon's voice was dripping with a devilish timbre. "Perfect little tickle spot~" As Moon continued treating Sun's excess energy problem, he found that his "patient's" feet were trying to shield each other from the tickles. He stopped for a moment.

"Tsk tsk tsk. Sunny~ If you don't hold still, I'll have no choice but to tie your toes together... "

"W-what!? NO! PLEASE! I'll be good! I promise! " Sun knew he couldn't keep that promise. Not even a little, but he had to try, right? No matter how horribly,... helplessly... unbearably ticklish- nope he was doomed. And Moon knew it.

"Okay. Now hold still... " Moon instructed, once again hovering his fingertips over the soles before him. He loved drawing these moments out. The anticipation tickling away in Sun's 'belly' and his mind, making him more sensitive as his nerves expected the worst. Self fulfilling prophecy. Moon also felt an excitement in his 'belly' when he lingered like this. No matter how much he just wanted to WRECK his friend, he wanted to prolong their playtime and savor it even more.

Sun gently bit his lower lip and flexed his toes, nervousness plaguing his entire being. Suddenly, he felt those devious claws slowly run up and down the soles of his feet again. Although he tried to steel himself for the sensations to come, he was still caught off guard and ended up letting out one of those silly sprinkler laughs.

"TststststsTAHAHAHAHAHAAAAHHH! G-GEEHEEHEEHEENOHOHOHOHOHOOO! " Sun threw his head back and cackled. Normally it wouldn't tickle this bad, but circumstances really do change things. The overwhelming feeling of helplessness was the main culprit. Although he was indeed overwhelmed, Sun was still able to keep his feet rather still, twitching, but generally still.

"Hmmm, let's see... " Moon mused as he switched to slowly walk his claws up the tender soles. Sun's nerves were on the edge of their little nerve seats from the tone of voice that came from his mischievous friend. The feeling of pointed nails tapping softly on his upper set of paw pads caused his pseudo breath to hitch. "If I remember correctly, these little toes of yours are VERY sensitive ~" Moon's words were accompanied by those nails, lightly grazing the spaces between said toes.

"PpppppPPAHAHAHAHAHAAAHH! NOHOHO FAHAHAHAIR! MOONIEHEEHEEHEEHEE! " Sun immediately burst into a hardy laugh from such a slight touch. And that's all it took. In desperate search of defense, the toes scrunched down and the left foot quickly covered the right, shooing away phantom tickles while it stood guard.

"Sun, I thought you said you would stay still!? " Moon gasped in mock offense. "Such a shame. You know what I have to do now~"

"D-do you really HAVE to. I mean, no one's forcing you or anything... "

"Hehe, well, unlike SOME people, I KEEP my promises~"

"Hey! You know I didn't stand a- WAITWAITWAITWAIT! NOOOoooo... " Sun's plea wound down to a whimper as he felt something wrap around his two big toes and tighten, locking them together and keeping both feet perfectly side by side. Moon made quick work of the litte bow that kept the ribbon nice and snug, taking advantage of Sun's rambling.

"There. Nice and neat,"Moon dusted his hands for dramatic affect before poising them in the air, wiggling his fingers menacingly, being sure to have them raised enough for Sun to see them. "Are you ready? "

"PfftNO! Wait, I'm-"

"Good. "

Moon didn't need Sun's approval to continue, knowing this was just the medicine he needed tonight. Besides, his little ray of sunshine would never admit to how much he LOVED playing these games, but Moon was well aware.

Despite how quick and playful the tickling had been earlier, Moon wanted to slow it down for a moment...reeeally draw it out for Sun and take his time now that he had his toes bound so helplessly. Two blue fingertips began a soft stroke from Sun's heels up to the balls of his feet, one finger on each sole.

"Coochie coochie coo~ Let me hear those sweet giggles, Sunny..."

"ST-eeheeheehee! NnnkkAHAHAHAAAHAHAAA! MMmhmhmhmhm! "

Sun couldn't stand the teasing (couldn't stand at all really), but the sheer fact that Moon said he wanted to hear his giggles lit a spark of defiance in him. So, as much as he could, Sun held back, closing his mouth and slightly bitting his lip again.

Moon turned back for a moment and smirked.

"Oh~? Being like THAT are we? Well...let's see how long you can really last." Sun suddenly felt Moon add in two more fingers, carefully walking them up the centers of his soles.

"I don't imagine very long, with just how ticklish you are..." The nighttime attendant let out his own raspy little chuckles, tracing letters and shapes into the middle of Sun's yellow soles with his claw tips.

"Does thiiiis tickle? How about this one? Hmm? Come on Sun-Bun, let it aaaaaall out..."

"ACK-G-GEEHEEHEEHEE-

MMMMPPPFTAHAHA-MmH OHOHO NOHOHOOOO!" Sun desperately tried to wield his feet like weapons and shields as he did before, but that dreaded ribbon barred him form doing little more than curling his toes down, and even that seemed more difficult now. The thought was slowly chipping away at his resolve. Fighting was futile, but the energy within him refused to let him give in.

"Y-yohohOU c-caha't make meHEEHEE-DOHO ANYHEEHEEHEE-!" Try. As. He. Might...

"You see? Not long at all..." Moon's voice dripped with a teasing tone, delighted by how Sun sounded already. There was a little shift then, the darker attendant leaning slightly further down before...

"Now. Here comes the REAL tickleeesss~" He said in a sing-song voice, allowing all ten of his fingers to finally spider slowly along the soft pads at the top of Sun's feet.

"Aahh tickle tickle tickle..! Oho I bet you can hardly stand it...You're just so sensitive down here." His claws dragged now, scratching softly just beneath Sun's twitching toes.

"BAHAHAHAHAHAAA! NAHAHAHAT THAHAHAAAAT!" Sun whined as an uncontrollable cackle boomed from his voice box. His escape attempts became more desperate than before, shifting his feet as much as he could only for them to barely rub together. His attempt to clamp down his toes proved useless as the area being tickled was just out of their reach. All he could do was throw his head back and laugh. And the worst part (or the best), was that this was just the beginning of the main course. He'd just hope that dessert was off the menu... but knowing Moon...

"PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE! ICANTTAKEIHIHIHIHIIIT!"

"Well that's the beauty of it, Sunny...no matter how much you can't take it, you have to~" Moon's fingers explored the cute stems of Sun's wiggling toes, stroking swiftly up and down the lengths of them before going just a little higher.

"Ohoo someone's toes are just so ticklish, aren't they? Hm? Are your toes sooo ticklish? How about the toe beans?" His claws teased with a few gentle swirls to Sun's big toes, which were unable to get away due to the ribbon keeping them bound.

"Giiitchie gitchie gooooo~"

"^YAAAHAHAHAHAAA! I CAHAHAHANT I CAHAHAHAHAHAANT! I-YEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!^" Sun's laughter shot up an octave at least, his toes were so over stimulated that he was having trouble wiggling them, the twitching being too strong and constant. He closed his eyes and shook his head, gripping at his pants within the blanket, trying to find a way to express the tension in his chest from the laughter that was backed up in there. Only so much can come out at once...

"Oh I'd love to just keep you here all night..." Moon's fingers slowed down some, giving Sun enough of a break to let his inner fans cool him off.

"Since you have so much energy, I just might have to do that ~"

Now Sun felt claws slowly circling his ankle joints, slipping between them and gently fluttering some cruel tickling.

"Tickle tickle tiiiickleee..come on Sun-Bun, admit to just how helplessly ticklish you are, and maaaaaybe you'll get a real break...."

"NnnnyAHAHAHAHAHA! Ohohoh nohoho! Dohohon't mAHAKE MEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! " The little whine in Sun's voice came back, truly hoping Moon wasn't serious. Buuuut it wouldn't be the first time Moon tickled a confession out of him.

"You don't want to~? Well that's alright. I'll just keep teasing these sensitive beans." His hands migrated back to Sun's open soles, and almost immediately his claws were teasing the soft yellow pads on his friend's toes. Gently he began swirling on his big toes again...and a familiar little sing song voice followed.

"Thiiiis little piggy went to market..."

"NohonohonOHONOHONOOOHOHOOO! NOT THAHAT! "

Moon tittered in delight, his smile only growing wider.

"Yes that~ Thiiis little piggy stayed home..." His claws moved to Sun's second toes now, softly gliding up the length of them and gently scratching the beans.

"OOOHOHOHO-PLEEEEASE!" Sun begged. Why must Moon be so good at this? Wasn't he programed to be a nap time and security bot? Who programed him to be the most devious tickle monster to walk the face of the earth?

Moon was indeed quite the devious one... And he knew just all the right buttons on his Sunny to push to get the best reactions.

"This little piggy had roast beef..." Next toe. "This little piggy had none..." Next to last. Moon hesitated, gently touching Sun's pinky toes and asking him.

"And do you know what this piggy does~??"

" *SNORT* WAIT WAHAIT! OHOKAYILLSAYIT!" Sun broke out.

Moon paused for a moment, still holding onto his pinky toes silently. He didn't move, or even say anything...he simply waited.

"U-uhm... I-uh... I... I... ohhh, I can't say it!" Sun stuttered, defeated. "I-"

Moon chuckled then, wiggling the toes. He continued- "Thiiiis little piggy went WEEEE~"

All of the sudden all ten of his fingers were spidering up and down the entirety of Sun's bare soles, not leaving any spot un-tickled.

"Weeeee weee~! Aaaaall the way home!"

"AAAAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA! NAHAHA! PPPAHAHAHA! EEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEE! M-MOOOOHOOHOONYEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEEE!" Sun absolutely lost it. He wriggled and squirmed as much as he could, struggling to form coherent words in the midst of his hysterics. Babbling was all he could do after shrieking out his assailant's name. Artificial tears peaked a the corners of his tightly shut eyes before rolling down the sides of his face.

It just tickled SO BAD!

"You're just faaar too ticklish ~ All you have to do is say it..." His claws continued to rake swiftly up Sun's trembling soles, smirking as he did so.

"Sooo so ticklish~ And you can't do a thing to get away. Does that make it worse, Sunny~? Does it make things tickle so much more, being so trapped?"

"DOHOHON'T AHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA TEHEASE MEEEEEEEHEHEHEEE! I CANT TAKE IHIHIT! I CAN'T TAKE IT!"

Moon giggled then.

"If you really wanted it to stop, you'd say what I want to hear...You probably love this teasing, don't you? Making you feel all the more tickliiiish~"

All of Moon's fingers began focusing on Sun's toes now.

"Oohoo, is this a bad spot ~?"

"KkkkkKAHAHAHAHAAAHH! TOO MUHUHUCH! T-TIHIHIHICKLEHEHES!" The poor yellow bot was going crazy. It wasn't just the unbearably ticklish sensations on his little toe beans, but the acknowledgement from Moon that Sun was stalling. In fact, he hadn't even said 'stop' yet, purposefully cutting himself off when he instinctively did try to say it.

If his face wasn't already painted with a heavy blush from all the laughing, it certainly would be now. He was just so embarrassed. Curse you Moon and your pointing out the obvious! *shakes fist*

"Myyyy my my...Listen to that laughter ~" Moon cooed, now trying to slip his tickling fingers between Sun's toes.

"You're just having sooo much fun. It's fun for me too, you know..."

The darker bot pondered for a moment, smirking as he reached under his hat when he remembered what he had been keeping on him lately.

"How could I forget!" He chimed, pulling out one of their many arts and crafts feathers. "Want me to use this, Giggle bot~?" Moon stopped tickling long enough to turn around and show Sun the tool.

"No! Not that! ANYTHING BUT THAT!" Sun pleaded, shaking his head rapidly.

"Youuu LIE~! You're so excited!" Moon giggled, turning back towards Sun's shaking feet.

"Oohoo, here it comes~" He hesitated, waiting for the perfect opportunity... There was a pause, silence. But then...

"Tickle tickle tickle~!" Moon ran the fluffy edge horizontally across all of Sun's toes, holding them up by the ribbon so he couldn't even try to curl them.

"EEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! NOT MY T-EEHEEHEEHEEHOOOOES! *snort* NYAAAHAHAHA!" Poor Sun was losing his mind. Moon had tickled him many times before and pinned him while doing so, but THIS. Sun had never felt so helpless in his life. And helplessly ticklish. If only he could wiggle his toes even a little. But alas, he was completely at Moon's mercy, or lack there of.

"Yeeees your toes! They're faaar too ticklish to leave alone..." Now Moon was sliding the feather between his toes, one at a time and sawing slowly back and forth. He giggled as Sun laughed only more...

"It must be so fun for you to be unable to stop me, hm~? No matter how much you beg me to stop, I won't..." Moon flashed his teeth as he grinned. "...But you haven't even asked me to stop at all. You're loving the tickle-ticklesss, aren't you Gigglebot~?"

'Oh no' Sun thought 'He noticed! Why did he have to say that!'.

"N-NOHOHO IM NAHAHAT! IAYHEEHEEHEEHEE! DONTSAYTHAAAHAHAHAAT!" Moon was obviously not going to buy that, but Sun was still too shy to let go. A little more pushing, and that was sure to change.

"Don't say what~? Don't point out how much you're loving the tickles?" Now Sun felt Moon's claws on his feet again, though only from one hand. The other focused carefully snaking the feather between his toes.

"Admit it~ Say how much you love it Sunny. You're sooo easy to read. You love being forced to take all these tickles, don't you??"

"MMMHMHMHMHA! IHEEHEE-I-IHEEEHEEHEE!" Sun struggled out, the fight in him ebbing away as his energy drained.

Moon waited, giggling and focusing all of his tickles now right in the arch of Sun's soles. Five fingers to a foot, spidering deftly.

"Coochie coochie cooooo~ Say you love it~! " Moon reminded him.

"IAYEEEHEEHEEHEE! I LOHOHOVE HAHAHAHA! ILOVETHE TEEHEEHEEHEE! TIHIHIHICKLEEES!" Sun screeched wildly. All of his struggling ceased, and he let his adorable laughter flow freely.

And now that he was broken, his inner tickle-loving giggle bug came out.

"IHIHI'M TOO TICKLIHIHIHIISH! YOU'RE MAKIHIHING ME GIGGLE! I CAHAHAHANT ! I CANT TAKE IHIHIHIHIT! EEHEEHEEHEE TIHIHIHICKLEEES!"

"That's riiight, good boy Sunny~!" Moon loved praising him, and he knew Sun loved it just as much. His claws made their way up to the top set of soft pads on his feet, scritching and scratching there playfully.

"You ARE too ticklish for your own good ~ It's almost like you were MADE to be tickled, isn't it?" He would give Sun a break soon, but just had to play with his toes a little more. "Tiiickle tickle tickle~! My ticklish Sun-Bun just has to bear through it~"

"OH NOHOHOHOOO! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" With that, Sun just laid his head back and cackled, letting Moon finish his work, too tired to say much else.

Just what he was waiting for. As Sun became too tired to even speak, or do much struggling, Moon's tickling slowly began to wind down.

A few pokes here and there to get some giggles, a little toe wiggling...but then he rubbed his hands on Sun's twitching soles soothingly to rid them of the phantom tickles.

"Seems like you had fun~" Moon cooed, untying the ribbon from his toes before crawling to look at his face on the other end.

"Rest time~?"

A sleepy yawn escaped Suns lips.

"Eehehehe, yes please. Sleepy time... w-with cuddles?"

"Of course~" Moon smiled. He unrolled his adorable little Sunrrito, deciding to simply lay beside him on the blanket and snuggle up close.

"I'll carry you to the charging station later~ You rest up..."

"Thank you, Moony... Nighty night~" Whether Moon knew it or not, Sun wasn't just saying thank you for the promise to get him to the charging station. He was saying thank you to his friend for taking care of him that night in general.

Who am I kidding. Of course Moon knew, and he loved that. Watching Sun bouncing around, never missing a beat when playing with the kids and ensuring their safety, dealing with grumpy parents and toddlers alike all day everyday. Moon enjoyed giving Sun the TLC he deserved.

"Nighty night, Sunny... "

THE END

#sfw tickling community #fnaf security breach #lee!sun #ler!moon #fnaf tickles #fnaf moondrop #fnaf sundrop #moondrop #sundrop #tickle fic #tickle fluff #Owie muh heart #blanket burrito #pinning #of sorts

[zwoelffarben]

With regard to chairs

It's obvious to me that some people have clearly never played, Is it a sandwich? a philosophy game for 3-6 players rated E for everyone.

The rules of Is It a Sandwich are simple: Player one invents a definition of a sandwich. The rest of the players provide counter examples, then the definition is amended; play repeats until someone loses their gods damned mind about whether it is true and just to consider a burrito a sandwich.

It's was the premire game we played at my alma mater when we had nothing else to do. You need not define a sandwich. You can define something else while still playing Is It a Sandwich? Whether or not you're discussing a sandwich specifically is immaterial to whether you're playing Is It a Sandwich? What matters is you're having a frivialous but heated about the definition of a category of thing.

It's obvious that some people have never played Is It a Sandwich? because theyr so bad at it. 'A seat for one that has four legs and a back?' That's a losing definition that focuses too much on stereotypical features of the individual examples and not enough on constructing a good working definition. It's a defintion that only someone who's never played Is It a Sandwich? (presumably because they had no friends (derogatory) or no imagination (also derogatory) or no intellectual curiousity (still derogatory) would have provided upon being prompted.

If I were asked to define a chair, I'd propose: "A semi-stationary object designed to be sat on by a single person such that if a person of average height and proportions sat upon it in neutral and gravity respecting position, their feet would lightly touch the ground," as my first crack.

Go ahead and play along if you want, I haven't played Is It a Sandwich? in so long. I already have some counter examples for my own definition thought up with solutions to them, and would love to play.

Note, the point of Is It a Sandwich is to have fun, and being an exclusionary person isn't fun. Do not play Is It a Sandwich? around defining identities to the exclusion of some members or inclusion of non-members. The point of the exercise is frivialous but heated arguments and identities are not frivialous.

[thecosmosstuff]

hi! you’re super cool <3 could i respect some hcs of watching cartoons with google? (was watching some clips of the grim adventures of billy and mandy and was laughing so hard. yes i am easily entertained, what of it)

Cartoons with Google (HC's)

--------

Tws: None

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He literally will say random statistics for certain things as your watching like TV, like he will literally fact check them sometimes

He tries his best to understand your humor but he doesn't always get it. God forbid you say "sheeshhh" or "yeet" near him. If loading screen was a person that would be him after you saying those things

He tries to be sarcastic sometimes but it always comes out super monotone and like, he always has to say hes joking. He again, doesnt understand the concept of it so sometimes some of the "jokes" he says can get pretty dark and he doesnt understand why your not laughing

Sometimes he will cite information about your favorite characters, and if you ask him, he will notify you when its your favorite characters birthday.He doesn't feel the cold but he likes to wrap you up in blankets whilst you two are watching cartoons, will make you a human burrito 100%

He loves watching cartoons with you, his favorite is Gravity Falls oddly. His favorite character is Bill Cipher.

Will always let you pick the cartoon unless you ask him to pick it and he will ALWAYS pick Gravity Falls. Like ALWAYS. Unless it isnt on, then he will give you the choice again.

#google #googleiplier #iplier egos #ego shipping #alter ego #power hour

[the-bonnie39]

bonnie b-b-b-b-bonnie

will you play ucn on stream

Maybe but I'm probably shit and I've been having problems with my laptop and sadly no fnaf sb as it's like 60 dollars and my laptop can barely stand Roblox and it still over heats so if I can't do a fnaf game I'll draw or play dsaf/dailtown very soon or tomorrow :)

Edit: if twitch doesn't work I'll make a discord chat room and stream it on that

#ask #gravity burrito #WIFE.

[alttplink-moved]

More thing i jusy found out

Bbh had food poisioning today so he was ill while playing, also grian passed put after getting 2nd :]

RSJSYSHS FOODS POISONING??? PASSINGS OUT??? GSJSGS WHAT THE FUCK-

#ditzy's inbox! #gravity-burrito #gravity!!! #once agains sorry fors answerings yours asks late </333

[sugar-petals]

can you give us more thoughts about domestic yoongles? the taemin's one (wich I love) just made me miss the cat boy so much ;o;

i have a phd in househusband yoongi so let me fire out some ideas for ya.

myg at home headcanon

🐱 word count. 1.9k | fluff, slice of life, slight nsfw mentions, x reader, bullet points

The doorbell sound is a recording of Yoongi imitating a doorbell. He’s such a meme. Ceci n'est pas une pipe.

Seemingly, he teaches himself a new recipe every week. To perfection. Yoongi is very particular about sticking to the recipe and wielding his kitchen tools in the right way. He collects knives, olive oil, and still hates cutting onions.

He separates sleep time, work time, and couple time as the holy trinity. For each, he switches his mood.

Blushes easily no matter for how long you’ve been together.

Establishes his own radio show where he DJs at one point.

Yoongi keeps an extreme track on the garbage schedule. He knows exactly what is due when. Separating the trash is a must. That includes sorting out fake friends trying to get between your relationship. Your social circle as a couple is extremely deliberate.

Yoongi deems himself a terrible host for guests. Unless Hoseok is there to drag him out, it's true he rather stays in the kitchen or at the barbecue preparing the menu courses rather than making small talk. He leaves the hospitality bits to you, however you want to go about it.

What he lacks in conversing with guests, he makes up in bed, God is absolutely fair.

He sings and hums pretty often and has his own vernacular of extraterrestrial uwu noises. It's an alphabet that you have to yet decipher but it's incredibly cute.

Self-made paintings everywhere around his house. 

Yoongi hasn't gone clubbing since grammar school. The most he does is going to a restaurant at lunch with very close friends. And always in a work context. His private life is so secluded from everything else and paparazzi just don't spot him anywhere, Dispatch thinks he must live abroad.

Very well, he does consider his big ole house a separate country. It's a living organism with a studio, gym, trophy room, small-size basketball court, and vastly equipped kitchen. A home theater as well, he likes American movies (like Inception) and Korean action genres, and you can stream whatever you fancy in there whenever you like. 

Yes, he has underwear with cute little bears on.

There's even a little pond in the backyard. Yoongi, Pisces he is, likes fishes after all. Sometimes he sits at the edge of the 'Little Ole Min Lake (LOML)' and stares into the water for literal hours with his chin parked on his palm.

His fridge is so high-tech and futuristic, even Yoongi is rendered clueless by its AI sometimes. The washing machine, too.

Yoongi watches RuPaul’s drag race. What did you expect? He finds it so humorous.

Owns lord knows how many comic collections.

Favorite holiday destination: New York.

Christmas is basically 50% you unveiling new music equipment to him in the garage and Yoongi almost fainting at the sexiness of it. The other 50% is spent holding hands and orgasm after orgasm until the new year since you loose track of time.

Goes on long rants why he’d marry you again every weekend.

Making you presents is his specialty. Always accompanied with a hand-written note. He writes a lot of things by hand for you in general. Texting, basically never. Always on paper.

No sex without a blanket and socks on. Yoongi gets cold very very easily and just doesn’t like showing skin. You buy him a heated blanket for his birthday, he even uses it in his studio chair.

Chronically addicted to making out.

Matching black outfits and glasses.

Laughs at even your worst jokes or phrases you didn’t expect you even uttered.

Yoongi owns the phoniest, most secretive-looking black car ever and nobody knows about it. Even he forgets he owns it, in fact he genuinely acts like it just doesn’t exist. Hilarious. And that guy has a level 1 Korean driver's license. Which allows him to drive trailers and busses and fucking trucks, and construction machines, let that sink in.

It's really a genius curse. Yoongi being put to the test will always deliver but he won't choose to execute his full skillset if he doesn't have to. Well, pragmatic. He's not as phony as he thinks he is, which is even more hilarious.

He uses that behemoth of a car so scarcely because he'd rather have things delivered to his doorstep and he's stingy with gas. Also, he doesn't like traffic and driving because of the traumatic shoulder accident and his tendency to space out. Translation: You drive that thing... that monster... it really is an impressive, fast, and scary machine. 

If someone devious ever even remotely manages to invade his privacy and get past the doubly-installed security system, he has enough money to deal with it no matter what.

If it concerns your privacy, he's a red belt. And owns Jin's number if a taekwondo master is required. Jimin's if it needs someone with kendo skills.

If Yoongi needs someone to go on a complete rampage, Jungkook lives just down the block. He can sprint to Yoongi's bunker I mean mansion within 45 seconds. 30 if it's very urgent. 20 if the reward is an instant ramen splurge with Yoongi's black card.

He has a sexy, glamorous sword collection hanging on the living room wall anyways, so. Who the hell is dumb enough to mess with him and his expensive lawyer in the first place.

But just in case, who knows... Yoongi settles matters shruggingly, anonymously, and with cash and he's too exhausted for violence, but don't underestimate his deter-min-ation and network for emergencies. Also, he is Agust D after all.

He will bonk a naughty burglar or kidnapper across the head with a wooden cooking spoon or take him down by throwing a basketball if the situation requires it. Damn, his reflexes are so fast, a feral cat in motion. So, lean back and sip on your drink of choice. Things are cared for.

If Yoongi is the one being kidnapped or a highly skilled stalker invades the property at night when he's fast asleep (nothing can wake this man during certain hours, strong REM right here): Don't forget that honeyboy is a Dodgers fan. There are signed baseball bats everywhere in this damn house.

In that sense, your parents visiting you here for the first time thought you were an undercover thug couple. Not to worry mom and dad, you both just like sports very much okay.

Yoongi walks around in all black clothes and the rooms are all seemingly dark. Even if you live together, you don't know his skin care routine. It's clear to you he's some sort of vampire.

Since Yoongi always forgets to remove his makeup, you made it a habit to wipe it down when he's about to pass out. He won't lie, he enjoys that kind of affection.

Holly is your resident child. You're essentially a family.

He insists to tackle this by himself, Yoongi sees his therapist monthly. Not shifting responsibility is something he's stubborn about and he pours his emotions into writing. You will do conversation about deeper stuff, but he says it's mostly up to him and his own mind. He dislikes burdening you or opening up too much and it's something to respect rather than force him about. If he wants to share a thought, he will. It doesn’t mean he can’t trust you or sucks at communicating (we know that he’s direct). Yoongi simply can’t put that much pain in such few words nor should you alleviate it for him.

Calls from the manager faze Yoongi as much as Jimin is bothered by gravity. If he’s busy kissing your body slow mo, who the hell dares to disturb his worship. 

This man had so many let-downs and interpersonal catastrophes in his life, he's super discerning with people. Because he rolls that way, during their first meeting Yoongi uses his psychology certificate on your friends. You see him squint at them, he listens very closely. After they pass the vibe check aka meow radar, he befriends them, too.

Yoongi doodles Grammy trophies everywhere to manifest them.

Yoongi shaves his legs.

All the sex toys he’s ever bought are black. Gotta vibe in style.

He spends ridiculous amounts of time in the studio but he's yours for the remainder of the night, breakfast, and he makes a lavish lunch and dinner.

Um, consider his head parked between your legs. The Hongkong line was not a joke.

Doesn’t mind you squishing his cheeks whenever and for how long you like. 

Every other weekend he gets flowers, vouchers, and gifts — not because of fans, they don’t know where his house is, but because he donates so much.

Namjoon often drops by and cleanses the area with his crystals.

Yoongi is a photography major so you can ask him to take professional, ceiling-high black and white shots of you.

Feeding each other food lovingly. Man, this guy got lips.

He set up a library just for you, in the exact historical aesthetic you like the most. Send him the link to any book you want, it's basically in the online shopping cart already. As I said, he wants to make you presents like every week.

Sometimes he sits on the other end studying English videos and vocab while you read. And yes, he's already 95% fluent but pretends being merely intermediate. He knows technical terms even native speakers have never heard of.

He collects pajamas and earrings.

Swears on the phone.

Namjoon being the horniest member is a cover-up story. Yoongi masturbates almost unreasonable amounts of times, by himself and in your arms when going to bed. Not gonna lie, it’s a sight to see his hands at work. He’s almost equally obsessed with fingering you once you ask him.

Yoongi was the one asking you to move in and almost had a nervous meltdown before meeting up with you to tell you just that. 

He’s the little spoon and of course a sleeping burrito to hold tight.

Finds you equally attractive in any state or styling. Yoongi practices what he preaches, he always reacts the same and says the same. 

Jams out to outrageous beats Namjoon sends him by dancing in the studio. You walk in on him every time. Was embarrassed at first, now you dance along.

Has bought you a life-sized Yoongi pillow and customized you a giant Shooky to hug when he’s not at home over night.

Owned a wine cellar until he quit drinking. Turned it into a piano room instead.

Only you know Yoongi has a serpent and dagger tattoo.

Scrubs the bathroom religiously.

The house smells like restaurant food and his extravagant perfumes half of the time.

Sometimes he has to remind himself he’s married to you and not his coffee machine. He shall be forgiven. You can’t complain that he doesn’t love you enough, nor is he ever not adorable when drinking his latte.

Never wears short sleeves. It can be scorching and he’ll wear a jacket. 

Tell him and the cap stays on during sex.

He grows his hair out and puts it in a low bun. The bangs remain.

Yoongi has installed the most fire-proof building in the entire city it seems. That he wanted to be a firefighter when he was young definitely shows. Figures the house has to be protected from heat: His blasting studio music and Yoongi himself are just way too sizzling.

Still melts into a puddle when you kiss his nose.

Couple sunrise watching. 

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2021. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate. all depictions fictional.

#yoongi #yoongi hc #yoongi x reader #bts #bts x reader #bts hc #yoongi scenario

[tummy-stuffing-king]

All Day Stuffing: Chapter 2- Lunch

Chapter 1

For lunch, you go to a Mexican restaurant. As you and your partner settle into the red vinyl booth, the waiter approaches with a basket of chips and a couple small saucers of salsa.

“What can I get you guys to drink today?” he asks as he sets them down. 

“They’ll have a coke, and just a water for me.” your partner says before you can even open your mouth. They flash you a grin and you smile in return.

“Great, anything else?”

“A large bowl of queso as well, please” your partner replies.

“Alright, that’ll be out in just a minute.” Your partner thanks them as they head off to the kitchen.

At the thought of queso, your mouth begins to water, despite the lingering fullness from breakfast. You can feel your belly pressing lightly against the waistband of your jeans and your abdomen is nicely rounded under the maternity shirt. You already have the beginnings of a muffin top poking out. 

“Here. These are for you.” Your partner pushes the basket of chips across the table to you. You groan as the smell hits you. They’re still warm, and the smell of oil and salt is mesmerizing.

You pick up a chip but pause. “You don’t want any?”

They smile. “I’ll steal a couple, but remember it’s my job today to feed you, darling. And I want you to be eating these chips from now until your entree gets her, and finish off the last basket after that too, got it?”

You nod in faux seriousness. “Aye aye captain.” With that you scoop up some salsa and shove the oversized chip in your mouth. As you eat, you rest your hand on your belly, feeling as it ever so slowly expands. At some point the water drops off your soda and a new basket of chips, along with the queso, and you eagerly dig in. The cheese is thick and spicy and delicious, and you can feel your belly grow with every bubbly sip of coke. 

The waiter comes by again as you’re nearing the end of the second basket of chips. The queso is long gone, and you’re on the third bowl of salsa. 

“Are you ready to order?” It seems as though he may be eyeing you, but you refuse to acknowledge it and shove another chip in your mouth.

“Yeah, they’ll have the triple enchilada meal with beans and rice, and I will have the steak burrito.”

“Great choice. Would you like some more chips before that comes out?”

Your partner glances at you before replying and their lips twitch into a smile. “Yes please.”

“I’ll be right back with that then.” he says, and steps away. 

You scrounge up the last few chip shards in the bottom of the basket and drop them into your mouth before sighing and leaning back, your hand absently rubbing your stomach. 

“Oh don’t tell me you’re full already,” your partner teases, watching your hand on your belly.

“No.” You sit upright again, but pause wincing. Your meal hasn’t even come yet and your jeans are already painfully tight against your midsection, and there’s a very noticeable muffin top below your ribs. “No, I’m not, I just need to free up some space is all.” As discreetly as you can, you reach under your belly-molded shirt to undo your pants button. As it comes loose, the zipper slides down of its own accord and your tummy plops onto your thighs, heavy and soft. You pull down the hem of your shirt and tuck it up underneath your belly, creating a very clear outline of it under the stretchy material. 

“Whew, much better.” You give your belly a couple pats for good measure, and lean forward in your seat, putting your elbows on the table and resting your chin on your hands.

“Good.” Your partner leans forward as well. “It would be a shame for you to fill up now when there’s still so much growing to do.” They reach out their hand as if to try and touch your stomach, but stop halfway across the table. You’re too far away here, and this isn’t the place anyways. They’d be able to touch you properly later. 

The waiter returns with more chips and a new round of drinks, and you get back to work. This food isn’t going to eat itself after all. You mindlessly down chip after chip, taking sips of your coke every few bites as your partner watches, eyes flicking between your stomach and your face. 

There are only a few chips left when the waiter returns holding your entrees. You both scramble to shove debris out of the way so he can set down your plates, and sit up in anticipation. 

“Careful, they’re hot,” he says as he lays them down on the table. “Will you be needing anything else?”

“Just some more refills,” your partner replies. “Thank you.”

As the waiter heads off again, you unwrap your utensils from their napkin and survey your plate. The three enchiladas are all different flavours, one sour cream, one salsa verde, and one mole, each filled with a different meat as well. 

You start with the sour cream, the chicken inside savoury and roasted to perfection, full of onions and peppers and exploding with spices. You moan with delight as the flavours mix and contrast to perfection, and before you know it the whole thing is gone. Desperately you scoop up the last of the sauce left on the plate.

“Woah now, slow down there, you don’t want to fill yourself up too quick. You have to save room for the rest of it.”

You lean back and take a couple gulps of your soda before letting out a belch, barely stifled by your hand. “Oops, ‘scuse me.” The pressure in your gut relents somewhat, but you lean back for a minute, rubbing your belly and letting it settle before you go back for more. 

“Don’t get too overeager or you won’t be able to enjoy yourself.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me enjoying myself. Believe me, that’s the furthest concern from my mind.”

You let out another burp as you sit back up straight, scooting forward again in the booth. Before you can regain your position, however, your belly bumps against the edge of the table. Sitting up, your belly now protrudes far out onto your lap. You hadn’t even noticed, you were so enraptured by the food.

You glance up and your partner is staring, a flush creeping across their cheeks. They clear their throat, trying to collect themself. “I guess you really are starting to fill out that shirt, huh?”

You look down again. It was true; the formerly loose folds of the maternity shirt were now stretched taut in the middle, a smooth dome resting upon your lap.

“What, this?” you ask, pushing your hands between your belly and your thighs. “This isn’t all that much.” You lift your hands a couple times, feeling the new weight, several pounds pushing your abdomen outward, watching the loose muscles jiggle just a bit. There wasn’t much give with so much food packed inside. Despite your words, your stomach is actually quite full, and you can feel the pressure of it just below your chest and the slight strain on your back. You pick up your fork and lean forward. These enchiladas aren’t going to eat themselves, after all. 

You eat the other two enchiladas, rubbing your belly continuously, partially to help soothe it, but mostly because you simply can’t keep your hands off of your growing gut. The feeling of your usually flat stomach, now distended, is a marvel. You keep running your hand along it, down the sides and up over the top, just to feel how expansive it is, how much you’ve managed to change it in such a short period of time. 

Before you know it your plate is empty except for the last traces of sauce along the bottom. You let out a sigh and lean back in your seat again. The movement reminds you sharply of the discomfort of your gut, the heavy weight of it pressing in on your lungs and stretching your abdominals to their max. 

You look up at your partner, tearing your eyes away from the mound of your belly, and find them looking back across the table at you. Half their burrito is still on their plate.A slow smile spreads across their face.

When dessert arrives, a heaping plate of soft, sugary sopapillas, you can’t stop yourself. Despite the shortness of breath and the persistent ache in your middle and the growing sleepiness you are beginning to succumb to, it simply takes more willpower than you possess to resist. Your partner knows this. You know your partner knows this. And as the honey drips down your face and hands you can’t help but moan and continue until the plate is empty.

When you finally shove the platter away and attempt to clean yourself of the sticky residue, you are panting. The last few bites had been difficult to swallow and you can still feel them resisting the confines of your stomach, but you hold in a burp and force them to settle.

At length the dishes are cleared away and the bill is paid and it is time to leave. You stand from the booth, wavering slightly at the altered center of gravity, before your partner catches your arm and glides their hand around your waist. As you make your way out of the restaurant, their hand rubs discreet circles against your side as you lean against them. The zipper of your jeans is spread wide under your shirt and biting in slightly to the tender flesh of your belly. The maternity shirt could hardly be called oversized now. 

You’re tight and uncomfortable, but also sated in a way you rarely get to be. Settling into the car, contentment washes over you and drowsiness pulls you down before you’ve even left the parking lot.

#my post #text #fic #all day stuffing #stuffing #tight clothes #public #belly kink #round belly #stuffed belly #bloated belly

[svhnflwr]

%! good night kiss — valentine's event

× kim younghoon: "how about a good night kiss?"

comfort, domestic fluff, SAUR SWEET AND CUTE <//3

Simply put, you were exhausted. Tired till every muscle felt sore and your eyelids would give up in a battle against gravity. Your shoulders would easily hunch over, giving you a very unflattering image at the moment. You couldn’t wait to just get home, take a quick relaxing shower, and cuddle into bed.

That sounded like a dream.

Your legs would no longer be in need of carrying all the weight of today’s endeavours and you could catch a breath. Although the next day would be an exact repeat of today based on workload, at least you’d be rested and you could get through the day with a clearer mind at least.

You shoved your keys into the lock and once inside, you threw your bag to the side and messily took your shoes off. You could always organize things after you wake.

You took that lovely quick shower, melting into the fresh smell of your body wash and later a fresh set of pj’s. It was just the perfect formula for relaxation. Finally, your body was met with the pillowy softness of your bed as you rubbed your face into the coolness of your pillow.

Your body melted at the new relaxing sensation until you heard your bedroom door open. Your eyelids were already too heavy to open, you just hummed to acknowledge the presence of the person coming in.

“Long day?” Younghoon asked in a soft tone as he saw you almost disappear into your blankets. You hummed one more time. He chuckled at your current state. You were so cute to him.

You felt his large hands softly move you around and adjust the blankets so they would properly cover you. He even tucked the ends of the blanket under you so you were securely wrapped like a burrito.

“I already put away your work bag and shoes so don’t worry about them. I’ll pre-prep your lunch and breakfast for tomorrow and make sure to eat all of it since you’re sleeping now without dinner alright?”

Your heart warmed at his caring actions for you but you were simply too tired to do more than a hum of response again, He exhaled a soft chuckle once more in adoration of you.

“How about a good night kiss?” he offered.

You hummed again, obviously. His soft lips met the top of your forehead slowly, the heat from it slowly spreading throughout your body like an extra blanket on top. Your lips curled up at the comforting and familiar sensation.

“I love you,” you tried your best to mumble through the fatigue.

“I love you too.”

#the boyz #tbz younghoon #kim younghoon #tbz #the boyz younghoon #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #kim younghoon x reader #tbz fluff #the boyz fluff #kim younghoon fluff #the boyz fics #tbz fics #kim younghoon fics

[gyllenhaalstories]

CLAIR DE LUNE — BOYFRIEND!JAKE 🌙

summary: you have trouble sleeping at night. your anxiety and worries are taking over, no matter what you do to feel better. the beautiful face of your boyfriend lit by moonlight. he offers to help you relax and drift to the beautiful universe that is your dreams by playing the piano for you.

word count: 1105

warnings: anxiety, depression, intrusive thoughts.

gif credit: me

notes: jake helping reader with her anxiety was requested twice, i’m so sorry it’s taken me forever to finally post it. my own anxiety was taking over~.  i am aware this “romanticizes” mental illnesses in some way and that it represents MY experience with my anxiety disorder, so please if you’re not comfortable with that, you don’t have to read. listen to love her like that by forest blakk if you want to vibe with me! <3

You were laying on your side, taking in the peacefulness that radiated from your boyfriend who was sleeping soundly. You tried to match your breathing to his slow rising chest. You tried to focus on every details of his face and body. You noticed there was a bit of silver in his beard, on his sideburns too. His collarbone was exposed, his blanket had slipped lower on his abdomen. You noticed traces of hickeys and marks you left a couple of nights before, when you did not feel like the world was ending. You went back to his moonlit face. Paying attention to details, wasn’t that supposed to calm you down? It failed, like it always did. You wondered why you even bothered trying, but you kept going. His lashes looked soft and delicate. His lips were a shade of baby pink.  His nose looked so cute you wanted to press a kiss on it.

The sun was rising, another night wasted drowning in thoughts and fears.

You had gotten up, dragging your blanket covered body around the house. You moved from window to window, trying to capture the sunrise from all angles until you eventually passed a mirror and you took in the gravity of your state. Your eyes looked heavy and blood shot, there were rings of dark blue and purple underneath. You looked drained, both physically and emotionally like you either spent the day running a marathon or crying to the saddest movies.

Speaking of music, you finally crashed on the couch. You had your earphones on, blasting songs about grief and loss, about failures and sadness. Silent tears were streaming down your face, you did not have the energy to wipe your cheeks clean.

You did not hear Jake stir in your bed, calling your name out softly, wondering why you were not there to wrap his body with your usual warmth and love. He searched for you in the bathroom, in the office, in the kitchen thinking you took on breakfast duty that morning. And then he found you, sobbing quietly and clutching on your phone tightly. He went down on his knees next to the couch and started to brush hair away from your forehead, where he planted the softest of kisses. “Rough night?” He asked, even though he knew the answer already.

That answer was not simple, but you nodded.

He asked you if you were hungry, you told him you did not feel like eating. He accepted the answer, for now at least. Usually food made you feel better, so his go-to solution was out of the question. He contemplated squeezing in on the couch, but it would be uncomfortable for the two of you.

You opened your eyes, finally, and you watched him walk in the kitchen where he toasted a bagel and brought his plate back in the living room. He sat on the spot where your legs rested, so he could caress them gently. You smiled softly, noticing that sometimes his hands would stop stroking back and forth to give your leg a squeeze.

He turned the television on, one moment he watched the weather channel, on the next he stumbled upon cartoons, and after that it was a bad movie. He brought you snacks, every once and a while. You would decline, but he insisted he’d help you feel better.

He was right, as always. There were times where you felt bad for being the way that you are. You felt like you werer a burden, like you were holding him back. He probably had plans, either for work or for fun. You remembered he wanted to take a walk at that new hiking spot. He wanted to stop by the new café that opened a few blocks away. Instead, he was stuck at home.

He reminded you to breathe slower when he heard you started to pant while your heart was racing at yet another wave of anxiety. He insisted you looked beautiful, wrapped like a sad burrito on the couch. He offered to do something, to pull out colouring pencils and sheets of paper to just distract your mind. He reminded you of the puzzles you bought a while ago, or that bath bomb kit you purchased thinking it’d be fun to try to do your own one day.

Bath. There was one last thing he did not suggest that could make you feel better. He noticed your face lit up when he invited you to take a bath with him. He assured you he did not care if the water would overflow a bit, or if it ran cold by the time you were ready to leave. He suggested you made him a foam beard if that would make you laugh.

You gave in, letting him help you as you stood up on your legs. You felt weak, you already missed the comfort of the couch. He stood behind you, wrapping his arms around you and guiding you towards the bathroom.

He got the bath ready and helped you in. He removed your clothes slowly, careful not to hurt you or do anything wrong on accident. He took your hands, holding you safely as you stepped inside of the hot water.

You pressed your back against his chest and let the water warm you up. Your shoulders relaxed, you unclenched your jaw. You looked up to him and smiled.

He squeezed you tighter in his arm, reminding you that you did not have to thank him.

He repeated his actions, but in reverse. He dried your skin and helped you in a pair of clean pyjamas. He helped you brush your teeth too, guessing you were too tired to stay up any longer.

The moon was full, that night. There was a beautiful light entering your place. It almost felt as warm as the bath.

You were heading to the bedroom, but Jake pulled on your head. “I have a better idea.” He confessed and sat on the piano bench. He revealed the keys, his fingers floated above the whites and blacks. You stood next to the piano, leaning on it while he started to play.

You could not say if he played a song he heard on the radio, some melody he learned when he was taking piano classes or if those notes came out of his mind, maybe even his heart.

He would look up from his hands, mouthing countless I love yous.

Last night was terrifying. Last night was awful. Last night was scary and terrible.

But tonight? Tonight you felt safe. You felt warm. You felt better.

#jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal fluff #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal x you

[jawllines]

Sorry to be annoying but I asked awhile ago and I think tumblr ate my ask but did you ever do tattoo Harry blurb? I love them and I miss them:( I’ve looked through your tags and there isn’t any on there if you have posted one

I CAN POST ONE I WROTE A WHILE AGO RIGHT NOW :D I DONT THINK I POSTED HERE BUT LET ME KNOW HERE YOU GO PET 

i.

“Baby -- baby, c’mon!”

It was rare that Harry ever woke Y/N with more than kisses and cuddles. Maybe an abrupt shoulder shake if the both of them slept through their alarms (and, considering that they are the only ones with the key to open up their own respective stores, they never typically arrived late facing happy employees -- or in Y/N’s case, employee -- Niall, in particular, was always more of a grump in that situation than Riktor even), but even that still managed to be tender, and soft. He always treated her so delicately, as if she were made up of porcelain in the morning and it was imperative to speak in a low, soothing voice with careful touches or she might shatter. And she really didn’t think it was because she was an absolute terror to wake up -- Y/N did quite well, even as early as 5 AM she was still in somewhat of a pleasant mood, certainly nothing to be fearful of -- she thinks he’s just gentle in the morning. He’s gentle all the time, but for some reason or another, he’s extra soft with her then.

They had both had a bit of a busy day, so by the time that they made it back to Y/N’s flat (Harry said he liked it there best because it smelled like her, and -- well, he softens her up and calls her Darling when he wants them to go over there, so it’s hard to say no), both of them were ready for bed. Neither of them could barely keep their eyes open as they scarfed down the burgers they’d picked up on the way home, and once they’d finished and brushed their teeth, they toppled into each other on the mattress. Y/N would reckon they both fell asleep before their heads had even hit the pillow -- she doesn’t even remember crawling beneath the blankets.

Apparently she had though, because now as her brain tunes in with the world around her and she realizes that the distorted voice that had begun to prod her dreams was actually a grumpy, dry throat Harry, she’s cuddling herself closer in the covers. This only makes him grumble at her more, “You’re such a blanket hog,” he whines and Y/N finally blinks her eyes open, being greeted with Harry’s disgruntled, pouted face illuminated by the sunlight beginning to slip through the blinds, “I’ve been trying to unravel it for like ten minutes, but you’re all wrapped up! I’m cold.”

Y/N smiles sleepily at him, not understanding the gravity of the situation entirely as she begins to un-burrito herself from the covers, “G’morning, beautiful,” she murmurs as she does so, finally disentangling from the blankets and while she was a little less warm, Harry was quick to wiggle in beneath them, “Sorry.”

“Don’ be sweet when m’tryin’ to be angry with you,” she puckers her lips at him dramatically, and though he sighs, he leans in and presses their mouths together softly, “Your kisses aren’t g’na sweeten me up, m’still grumpy, blanket hog.”

She can only hum as she cuddles closer to him, “Sorry,” she repeated, this time adding, “Like to swaddle myself like a lil’ baby. Reckon you weren’t holdin’ me well enough last night.”

An offended gasp leaves through his lips soundly, enough that it startles her, but his arms worm around her waist and draw her closer to his body, “Brat,” he grumbled, dipping his nose into her throat, “I held you so well and you just wiggled right out of my arms and took all the covers with you.”

“Like a worm -- I wiggled out like a worm or somethin’,” she tried to sit up but his arms tightened around her, “This worm has to pee though and she’ll soak the bed if she isn’t allowed.”

His arm loosens around her, “This worm sounds like she’s a sleepy sort of delusional that requires about two hours more of rest.”

Y/N stumbles toward the bathroom in her room, “Noooooooo,” she whines, frowning at nobody, not bothering to swing the door shut before she plops on the cold toilet seat to relieve herself, “We’re supposed to go get hot chocolate, no more sleep.”

“Baby, it’s 6 AM and I’ve been up the last 30 minutes freezing my bits off!” He calls back to her and she giggles some, her eyes trying to accommodate to the bright white lights of the bathroom, “Sleep just a bit more and we’ll get the hot chocolate when we wake up next.”

She waits until she flushes and washes her hands to respond to him, and though she knows that she is definitely going to crawl back in bed and fall asleep, she stands at the foot of it with her hands in fists at her hips. He had let his eyes flutter closed by then but she thinks he could feel her eyeballing him, so he looks up past the mountain of blankets now covering him so she could only see his eyes and his nose, “What’re you doing?”

“You’re telling me, you don’t wanna go at 6 AM, three hours before the kiosk even opens to get hot chocolate with me? You must really hate me, don’t you?”

He huffs a sharp breath through his nose which is how he usually laughs in the morning, when he can’t muster up the strength to have a proper giggle, “Absolutely loathe you, baby doll, but could you please come back to bed so I can loathe you in the warmth?”

It takes little persuading -- as she said, she knew she was just going to crawl right back in beside him -- and instead of relying too heavily on the blankets to provide her warmth (like wrapping up half of it around her so she was cocooned entirely. . .this is what she normally does, and she would say that’s probably why Harry almost never has any of the covers in the morning), she relies on him. Picks up his arm so that she can fit herself underneath it and lies her cheek on his chest, “Your pits better not be smelly.”

“I make no promises.”

.                             .                         .

“I love your hair.”

“Stop it, Sweetheart, I’m g’na start blushing.”

They had slept for four more hours rather than the two Harry had originally suggested, but that always happens with them. Y/N would say that they are just too content cuddled up with one another that they milk it for all it’s worth. If one of them wakes up before the other, then they just settle their head back down and close their eyes again. Unless they had somewhere to be, of course, but Harry had a free Saturday (no clients schedule, even though Saturday’s could often be some of his heaviest days) and he’d elected to spend it with her -- whether they were awake or asleep didn’t much mater, they just liked to be near each other.

When they finally did wake up, they lazily got dressed into about thirty layers so they wouldn’t freeze outside. The weather had grown frigid quite quickly this November, and neither of them stood the cold very well, but there was a park lined with little pop-up kiosks with hot chocolate, sweets, little holiday goodies, and an obscene amount of knitted blankets (it was a clever marketing tactic, Y/N thought -- everyone is more willing to spend money on a blanket when they’re freezing cold - she and Harry had certainly fallen for it today). Y/N bought them shoe warmers to keep their toes at least not numb, and Harry lets her borrow a pair of his gloves because she keeps forgetting to buy some of her own. They both have hats fitted over their heads too, and since Harry’s let his hair grow out, his curls stick out from beneath the pumpkin orange print and Y/N can’t stop staring at it. She’s always loved his hair, she told him as much one of the first nights they’d sat on her bookstore’s floor and talked about just a bit of everything. Back when she barely realized she had a crush on him. . . .when she didn’t know that in just a little time, she would be over the moon.

And she’ll never forget that people used to make him feel like shit about his hair, so she maybe overcompensates by telling him every time she has thought about loving it. Which means today, in the span of a short three hours they’d been awake, Y/N had complimented his hair about twenty different times. If she was running her fingers through it, fixing his beanie, or just staring at him, she let him know just how much she adored his curls.

“I hate to tell you this, Button, but your cheeks are already red as apples,” she shifted the paper cup of hot chocolate from her hand closest to him to the other, so she could reach up and tuck them behind his ear, that had reddened from the cold, “The air has you more bashful than I ever could.”

“Not true,” he murmurs, lowering his voice as he knocks closer to her ear, “I always blush when you go down on me.”

“God,” Y/N shakes her head, “You’re too much, d’ya know that?”

He laughs, nudging her with the cold tip of his nose, “You want the peppermint bark? We’re coming up on the seller.”

“Of course, I want peppermint bark,” she reaches for her wallet, “I’m stocking us up for the next hundred years or so.”

Harry slows for a moment, sliding his gloved hand into her own and squeezing, “Hey,” he begins, his voice soft, somewhat reflective and it brings her attention to him at her side, “Y’know when -- you remember how you said you just get random flushes of love for me and s’a whole lot and you just don’t know what to do with it?”

Y/N nods, “Yeah, like every waking minute practically. Why?”

He smiles shyly, “I’m having one of those moments.”

“For the peppermint bark?” She teases, but his brows furrow and he swats her shoulder playfully, “Hey!”

“I’m trying to be sweet on you, and you’re still going on about this bloody chocolate,” he rubs the arm that he swats, even though Y/N has so many layers on plus the blanket that she bought wrapped around her, that he made no real contact with her body.

Y/N pulls him in for a hug, narrowly avoiding a child running past them as she does so, “Oh, you know m’only kidding. I love you too, Bug, more than words can describe and ten times more than the chocolate I reckon. . .well, unless it’s made really well this year.”

“I’ll leave you here, blanket hog.”

#blurbs #Anonymous