#i just think he has a nice kitchen where he eats takeout | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harryistheonlyoneforme · 10 months

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I genuinely LIVE for your soft smit. Do you think you could possibly give us something where maybe Reader is stressed out or something and Harry just takes care of her? I love when he's all soft and mushy

masterlist | harry styles masterlist | requests are open

Kiss in the Kitchen like it’s a Dance Floor

Closing the front door behind him quietly, Harry takes his shoes off at the door before heading out in search for his wife. He already has an idea, though, because of the soft music coming from her cooking playlist and the fact that moment he stepped in the house he was met with a smell that was nothing short of delicious. So he quietly makes his way toward the kitchen, and the sight he’s met with makes his heart melt but at the same time he feels his cock hardening in his pants.

Seeing YN doing something so domestic is nothing new, but it never fails to make his mouth water or his mind go foggy as he watches her. From the pout of concentration on her lips to the sway of her hips, he doesn’t think he can keep to himself for much longer.

YN is simply in the kitchen, cooking stuffed chicken breast, something he’s sure is a surprise because on Fridays they usually get takeout. She knows it’s his favourite, though, and she just thought she’d do something nice since he’s been so busy lately.

He just continues to watch her in her element, a soft smile on his face and the ache of his cock a bit further back in his mind. The moment she finishes searing them she puts them in a baking dish, ready to put them into the oven. As she bends over, though, she feels a sharp slap against her left ass cheek and yelps as she nearly drops the food. She places the pan into the oven before turning around with a scowl and smacking Harry in the head with her oven mitt. “Fuck’s sake, Harry! You almost made me drop our dinner,” she grumbles, folding her arms over her chest and playfully glaring at a chortling Harry. He just gives her his signature dimpled grin before gently grabbing her waist and pulling her to him.

“m sorry, baby. You just look so good all concentrated that I couldn’t help it,” he teases, leaning down to peck her lips again. When she tries to pull away he pulls her tighter, deepening the kiss. They moan into each others’ mouths, and Harry lets out an actual whine when YN pulls away and turns back to the stove, ready to cook the vegetables for the meal. “I need to cook, babe. I actually want to eat at some point,” she responds, but he can still hear the teasing in her tone.

“Well how about this; you keep making what we’re gonna eat later, and I’ll work on what I’m going to eat before dinner,” he whispers against her ear then starting to kiss down her neck. He smirks against the skin of her neck when she starts to squirm and press her thighs together, her breathing picking up as well as her pulse.

“Harry, you always do this. Sometimes I just want to cook,” she replies breathlessly, a quiet moan leaving her lips as he begins to suck on the sensitive skin there. Harry just continues to smirk against her, rubbing up and down her hips with a hum.

“So if I stick my hand down your panties you won’t be soaked?” he asks, to which he shakes her head.

“Not even a little bit,” she says, a playful smile coming to her face as well.

“Let’s see then, hm?” he says, and he waits for her to nod before reaching into her shorts, where he finds that she’s not wearing panties. He slips a finger between her folds, her wetness helping him to move along. He gathers a bit on his fingers before using it as lubricant to rub at her swelling clit. Her knees nearly give out as she chokes on a moan and bucks her hips to his torch but he just wraps his other arm around her, keeping her in place.

He sets a steady pace instantly, pressing kisses to her bare shoulder as he works her clit with intent, each circle calculated and precise to push her toward her orgasm. Harry keeps this up for no more than two minutes or so before he feels her legs start to shake slightly and her hand flies up to grip his wrist as she begins to grind down onto his hand.

“That’s it, take what you need. You can cum whenever you have to,” he rasps, not changing anything about what he’s doing to her. “Let it out, you can cum for me. I’ve got you,” and that’s her unraveling. Her body goes completely rigid for a few moments but he knows better than to stop or slow down, and then she’s relaxing entirely and letting out a loud moan of pure pleasure as she rides out her orgasm against his hand.

“You did so well for me, bet that was a lot, huh?” he coos against her ear, rubbing her clit gently as she comes down from her high, bucking her hips against his hand in overstimulation. He moves away when she begins to squirm a bit from discomfort, slowly pulling his hand from her shorts.

She sighs happily, a dopey grin on her face and a glow like no other as she turns around to press a sweet kiss to his lips. “Can i cook now?” she asks him jokingly, and he just hums as he ignores the question. In response he just brings his hand up to her mouth, tapping at her chin for her to open before slipping his fingers inside. She immediately closes her mouth around them and moans at the taste. Harry can barely keep himself together as he feels her tongue move around his fingers, cleaning all of her orgasm off him. Pulling his fingers out, he smiles at her.

“Of course,” he responds to her earlier question before stepping back and leaning against the kitchen island on his elbows. “Don’t mind me.”

YN is confused because she surely thought this was going to go further. But she shrugs and turns back to the vegetables while the potatoes are boiling. The second she puts the asparagus in the oil she feels her hips pulled back and her shorts pulled down. She gasps in shock and looks back to see Harry dropping to his knees. Before she can get a word in, though, she feels him spread her open and swipes his tongue all the way from her clit to her opening. The moan she provides him with is full of surprise as she slams her hand down onto the counter, gripping it tightly.

Her other hand goes back to grip Harry’s hair, her hips bucking against his tongue. He groans against her at the feeling of her hand tangled in his hair, the delicious burn only making him need her even more than he already does. Wrapping his arms around her thighs, he pulls her closer to his face while simultaneously pushing his face closer where he can feel her throbbing against his tongue.

He’s lapping eagerly at her, suckling on her clit for a few moments before slipping his tongue inside her throbbing hole. YN can only moan and begin to clench around his tongue when the tip of it just slightly grazes her g-spot. Her knees are about to give out but he doesn’t let her fall, gripping her tighter to his face. Her moans get louder and he knows she’s close again , so he groans into her once more, the vibrations sending her catapulting to the edge but she’s not there yet. He takes a hand and rubs her clit quickly, pulling away for just a moment to give her some encouragement.

“Let go, honey. Cum on my tongue, you can do it,” he encourages, his other hand going to rub at her belly because he knows that more than one orgasm can make or break his wife.

She only shakes her head, trying to squirm away from the pleasure. It feels too good, so good she feels like she can handle it. YN starts to feel tears build in her eyes from the intensity as the ball in her belly only seems to get heavier with each circle of her clit. “Too sensitive,” she whines, slamming her fist down onto the counter again as her entire body begins to feel hot. He’s relentless, though, rubbing even faster at her sensitive nub, holding her even tighter.

“I know, honey. But you can take it. It’s alright, just cum for me. Let it go, you know you can take it,”

She just lies her head down on the cool counter and lets her body begin to surrender to the pleasure. He doesn’t let, going back in and putting his mouth on her again. Her eyes roll back and her whole body locks up, her orgasm washing over her intensely. A broken sob leaves her, and she’s left unable to think as her vision goes black, her mind blank.

The orgasm starts at the tip of her toes, traveling all the way through her body and the tension finally releases out of her, covering his mouth and chin in her cum. Their connection is so intense that just the sound and feeling of her falling apart causes him to cum as well, the warmth spurting out of his throbbing cock, untouched. His hips buck against the back of her leg, and he groans out, still licking her gently to work her through her orgasm. Once they are both back down, he stands up and turns the stove and oven off, not wanting the food to burn. He guides her to the bathroom, cleaning them both up before putting more pajamas on her before placing her in bed, gently pecking her lips.

When she’s all tucked in and comfortable Harry runs downstairs to clean up the kitchen and plates their meals, grabbing some drinks and heading up the stairs.

While he was downstairs, she turned on their current television fixation, ‘Criminal Minds’ and waited for him to come back up. She melts when she realizes he brought their food up, thanking him quietly, and when he slides into bed next to her she kisses him deeply.

“You’re always so good to me. Thank you, baby,” she whispers, running her fingers through his damp curls. He nuzzles into her hand with a hum of contentment before he responds.

“No, thank you. Thank you for always being there for me and just for being everything I could ever ask for. I look forward to spending the rest of our lives together,” he responds, thumbing away some of her tears with a dimpled grin. “Okay, okay. Enough tears, let’s get some food in you before y’get too sleepy,” he chuckles before picking up her plate and passing it to her.

Once they’re finished eating, they take their dishes downstairs, vowing to do them in the morning. They spend the rest of the night cuddling until they fall asleep.

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mrsbarnesxxx · 2 months

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saw you wanted requests, and i was just thinking abt how reader would make dinner every night and what if bucky isn’t used to these kind of family diners and just isn’t used to this kind of food at all, maybe bucky x reader or somt 💜💜

A/n: Thank you so much! Ugh thinking about Bucky slowly learning to accept love again after everything he's been through has my heart! I just know some part of him would secretly love it. I'm not sure I'm happy with this, but here it is.

Warnings: brief mention of Bucky's past, tooth-rotting fluff, my housewife kink might have come through...sorry

The two of you had met after he came back from Wakanda. You were always nice to him despite everything he had done. Slowly, with a lot of nagging from Steve, he had asked you out. Since then, things have been going smoothly for the last 4 months, you moved in with him just a week ago.

"Hey, you're home late." You smile as he walks through the door. He's shocked that you're up, it's well past midnight, probably close to 2 or 3 in the morning.

"What are you doing up?" He asks shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the rack by the door.

"What do you mean what am I doing up?" You laugh walking to him. "I was waiting for you. You didn't say when you'd be home."

"Sorry." He mumbles.

"No worries. I made dinner, are you hungry?" You ask walking to the fridge.

"What?" He asks brows furrowed in confusion at your soft tone.

"Are you hungry?" You ask pulling the leftovers out of the fridge. He expected you'd be asleep, but once he saw you were awake, he thought you'd yell. He thought you'd lecture him and tell him never to do it again, but instead, you offered him a sweet smile and a home-cooked meal.

"Uh...yeah. Thanks." He says walking towards the kitchen counter where the food is.

The second time it happened was just as shocking as the first. He had been home all day doing some work for a mission he was going on with Sam.

"Hey, I'm home." You call walking into the small apartment you share with Bucky.

"Hey." He calls back from the couch.

"How's lasagna sound for dinner? My mom used to make it for my dad all the time and I haven't had it in years. So I was thinking I'd make it for dinner tonight, that okay?" You ask taking the groceries out of the bag and placing them onto the counter.

"You don't have to cook. We can just go out." Bucky says walking towards you, confused as this is the second time this week you've set out to make him dinner.

"I want to cook. Besides, my mom's lasagna is the best lasagna ever!" You argue with a smile, grabbing onto his arms to lift yourself up on your tip toes to press a soft peck against his lips.

"You want to cook?" He asks brows furrowed as he watches you move around the kitchen.

"Of course I do. I want it to feel homey. Before I moved in, what did you eat?"

"Usually just takeout, leftovers from takeout." He shrugs.

"Exactly, you never really moved in because you don't think you're staying here." You explain. "You're free, Buck. You get a second chance at this life, so make the most of it. You deserve to be happy, despite your past. You deserve to have a life, a family, a home. So let me make your house feel like a home. Let me in, Buck. Let me love you."

He smiles, looking at his whole world before he nods once, "Okay." He whispers.

#mrsbarnesxxx #mbxxrequests #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

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pulisicsgirl · 1 year

Text

spaces between us - christian pulisic

summary: Y/N and Christian's relationships has been strained lately due to conflicting schedules and minimal effort to spend time with one another. Y/N's plan to talk to Christian about it goes awry and drives the couple further apart from each other.

pairing: Christian Pulisic x reader

word count: 5.3k

warnings/tags: angst and arguing (but it turns out okay in the end don't worry), Christian is a little bit of a dick, Y/N is a little bit overdramatic, but also sickening fluff, Christian is a lovesick twat, use of the phrase "whooping and hollering" (I'm sorry, I'm painfully American), hasty proofreading (because I’m posting this at 3 am and I have classes tomorrow morning), and like one suggestive comment

requested: yes!!!

notes: thank you so so much to @chelseagirl98 for sending this request in!! I had so much fun writing it, and I hope it lives up to your expectation! I tried a little something new with the text messages, so let me know what you think of that! Also, I think this is my first time writing a fight/make-up fic like this, so it might not be very good, but I welcome any constructive criticism! :)

As always, requests are still open! Send any ideas my way! 💙

You moved quickly around the kitchen, juggling bowls and ingredients as you did your best to prepare a homecooked meal to surprise Christian with when he got home from training. It wasn’t anything all that special, and you weren’t a five-star chef by any means, but you were trying your hardest—and that had to count for something, right?

For the last several weeks, you had sensed a distance forming between you and Christian. With his busy life as a footballer and your inconsistent work hours, it had been difficult to find time to see one another. On the rarer days that you were home together in the evening, you were both exhausted, quickly finding something to eat (often some takeout delivery that you ordered online) before setting things in order and going straight to bed. You couldn’t remember the last time you and Christian had just sat down to spend time together, sharing a conversation with any amount of substance.

After a particularly bitter morning where the two of you had moved around each other in the kitchen and bathroom without sharing a word or interacting almost at all, you had miraculously gotten out of work early. Deciding that enough was enough, you ran to the store to pick up some ingredients, resolving to cook a nice meal that you and Christian could sit down and eat together. You hoped it would give you a chance to catch up after the last few weeks of simply living in the same house but not truly being together.

It took you about an hour, but you completed the recipe successfully. As you turned off the burner on the stove and began dishing the food onto plates, you heard the jingle of Christian’s keys as he walked through the front door.

“Babe?” you called out. You listened for his footsteps as they rounded the corner into the kitchen. He was looking down as he came into your view, eyes locked on something on his phone screen. “Hey,” you addressed him uncertainly, wiping your forehead from the heat that had built up in the kitchen from the hour you had spent cooking. Your voice cause his head to snap up to look at you.

“Hey, babe,” he smiled, glancing back at his phone quickly before he turned it off and shoved it in his pocket. He walked around the kitchen island and pulled you into his side, kissing the top of your head. “What’s all this?”

You couldn’t help but feel a little bit disappointed, hoping for a little more than a side-hug and a kiss on the head from your boyfriend after not seeing him all day. You tried to brush the feeling off.

“I made dinner!” you replied, a hopeful tone to your voice. You pulled from his side to grab his plate, handing it to him.

“Oh thank goodness,” he took a whiff of the food before walking to the other side of the kitchen island, sitting down in one of the tall chairs. He mumbled a quick, “thanks so much, babe,” before he began devouring the food swiftly.

Again, you tried to brush off the weird feeling that washed over you. You knew he must be hungry after a long day of training—they had even gone a bit late today. You tried to focus on the short expression of gratitude instead as you picked up your own plate, choosing to stand across from him, leaning on the countertop so you could face him while you ate.

The two of you remained there in silence, him scarfing down the food like it was his last meal while you just moved the food around the plate as you stared at it, still feeling uneasy.

You opened your mouth to ask about how training had gone that day, hoping to spark a conversation between the two of you, but movement from the other side of the counter caught you off-guard before you could speak. Having cleaned his plate already, Christian stood from his chair, stepping around it before he pushed it in. He moved to the sink, dropping the empty plate in. He walked behind you, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.

“It was really good, babe. Thank you.” He walked behind you, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “I’m gonna head up to shower.” He stepped to walk out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

“Are you serious, Christian?” You felt the anger finally spilling over in your chest, the heat rising up your neck an into your face. You were beyond frustrated that all of the effort you had gone to had lasted in a five-minute shared silence before he rushed upstairs to shower and go to bed.

Christian turned back around to face you, eyes wide with confusion. You could see him obliviously wracking his brain for what he had done wrong.

“I’m sorry, I can wash my plate,” he spoke quickly as he took two steps back toward the sink before you stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“It’s not about the stupid plate, Christian.” You rolled your eyes at him, and he took a step back from you, surprised by the anger you were displaying. “I went to all this trouble to go get the ingredients and spent all this time to make a home-cooked meal, and all I get is five minutes and ‘it was good, thank you’?”

Christian’s eyes were still wide, taken aback by your reaction. “I’m sorry, it was a really long day. I’m just pretty tired.” The way he said the words made them seem like more of a question.

“You’re always ‘tired’, Christian!” You put air quotes around the word, feeling yourself get more and more worked up about the situation. You felt like now that you were finally voicing your frustrations, all of the emotions were starting to spill over. “You’ve barely spoken to me in weeks! We never see each other anymore, and I’m sick of living in the same house as my boyfriend, but never seeing him!” You began raising your voice without meaning to and you felt your eyes burning with tears. You mentally cursed yourself for crying so easily when you were angry.

“Y/N, I-“

Sensing another excuse coming on, you cut him off. “You didn’t even kiss me goodbye this morning!”

Interrupting Christian and not allowing him to explain himself was a sure way to irritate him, and it immediately put him on the defensive.

“Well, you didn’t kiss me before I left either!” He knew it was a weak defense, but in his frustration, it was the only thing he could come up with. “I’m not the only one in this relationship, Y/N! You could afford to put in a little effort once in a while, instead of just pointing fingers.”

Your mouth fell open in shock at his words, and Christian instantly wished he could take them back, not having meant them at all. “You are unbelievable, Christian. Unbelievable.” You scowled, pushing past him to walk out of the kitchen.

He grabbed your wrist to keep you from walking away, and you shook your head, pulling your arm from his grasp. “No, stop. Come talk to me when you’re ready to act like a half-decent boyfriend.”

You stormed down the hallway to your shared bedroom, slamming the door to the bathroom closed and locking it in case Christian tried to follow you and take back what he had said. Moments later, you heard the doorknob jiggle softly, confirming your prediction.

You felt the tears rolling down your cheeks as you glumly went through your nighttime routine, brushing your teeth, combing out your hair, and washing your face. You tried to ignore your red and swollen eyes from crying as you looked in the mirror.

Once you had finished, you unlocked the door and walked into the bedroom. You did your best to ignore Christian sitting silently on the side of the bed as you walked over to the closet and changed quickly into your pajamas from the night before, scoffing quietly as you realized that it just entailed one of his bigger T-shirts. Nonetheless, you slipped it over your head and flipped the closet light off, closing the door behind you as you exited.

Without a word, you walked to your side of the bed, pulling the sheets and comforter back, crawling in, and covering yourself up, facing away from Christian.

His heart had broken at the sight of your tear-streaked face before you had climbed into the bed. He knew that it was probably best to give you some space for now, so he stood to collect his things and go take his shower. You didn’t miss the soft sigh that left his lips before he stood.

You heard the sound of the bathroom door closing, then the rush of water as he turned the shower on.

You finally allowed yourself to let go, crying out all of the hurt that had built up over the last several weeks. You felt the pain physically in your heart, a hollow feeling in your chest—you were a part of a whole, missing your other half.

It didn’t take long for Christian to finish his shower, and you heard the water turn off. You tried to calm yourself before he left the bathroom, not wanting him to see you in such a weak state after your fight.

A few minutes later, you heard the sound of the bathroom door opening and Christian moving around the room. You did your best to silence your sniffles, but he still heard them, and he felt the painful cracks in his heart tearing open a little further.

You felt the mattress dip behind you as his weight settled into the bed. His arm appeared in front of your body for a moment and you felt him leaning over you to place a soft kiss on your temple.

“Goodnight,” he whispered softly. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you mumbled. As petty as you wanted to be, you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you didn’t say it back to him.

His weight settled into the bed behind you, not daring to pull you into his arms. The light in the room disappeared with the click of the lamp turning off, and the two of you lay there in silence.

A thousand thoughts were running through both of your heads, but you remained on your side with your back turned to him. You wrapped your arms around your torso, attempting to hold yourself for some sort of comfort against the foreign feeling of falling asleep without being tucked into Christian’s side.

*****

Since it was the weekend, the sun was already peeking through the curtains when you awoke. By instinct, you rolled over, reaching toward the other side of the bed, but your hand only landed on the cold, empty sheets. You snapped your eyes open, finding no sign of Christian’s presence, and the memories of your argument from the night before flooded your mind.

You let out a long, frustrated groan, pressing your face further into the pillow. The uneasy feeling that you always had when you and Christian fought settled in your chest, and you spend a few moments staring at the wall, allowing yourself to give in to the self-pity for a moment before getting up to face the difficult situation.

A buzzing sound coming from your bedside table pulled you from your thoughts, and you rolled back over, lazily grabbing your phone from where it was charging. As the screen lit up, you saw that you had a text from Mason.

You dropped your head back on the pillow for a moment with a sigh. Fighting like this wasn’t doing either of you any good—you both knew it, but this was the main problem you two seemed to face. You didn’t fight often, but when you did, you both struggled to get over your own pride and make it up to each other.

You sent the message and threw the sheets off of your legs, deciding to make yourself a cup of coffee and try to wake up. The tiles of the kitchen floor were cold on your bare feet as you walked across them.

You placed your mug under the coffee maker and started it, leaning against the counter. The cold marble touched your back through the thin material of your—well, Christian’s—shirt and the feeling sent a shiver through your body. You tucked your arms around your stomach, trying to find some sense of warmth and comfort in the otherwise bitter morning.

As your thoughts wandered, you found yourself missing the mornings that you and Christian had previously shared in this very kitchen. Lately, you had barely interacted as you moved around each other, making your coffee and packing lunches, barely mumbling a few words to one another. But before all of that, when you had first moved in together, you couldn't get enough of each other in the mornings. You would always find yourself in his arms, standing between his legs as he leaned against the counter. His large hands would run up and down your sides, sometimes finding their way under his shirt that you wore to stroke the bare skin of your back gently. You would nuzzle your face into his neck, inhaling his scent while he pressed a kiss into your hair. The only audible noise was the coffee maker and the steady drip of coffee into the mug as the two of you waited for it to finish brewing. It was the perfect start to every day, and frequently you found yourself getting out of bed earlier than you needed to just so you would have more time to waste, wrapped in Christian’s arms. Even on your days off, when he would still have training, you would get up with him so you could share those brief moments together before he left for the day and you crawled back into bed.

You snapped back to reality, shaking your head to rid it of the daydream you had nearly gotten lost in. The lights seemed to be more dull now that you were left standing in the kitchen on your own, no lover to hold you close and share his warmth.

You rubbed your hands over your arms, attempting to rid them of the goosebumps that has risen up. Your phone lit up with another notification.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion for a moment. It was then that you remembered—Chelsea had a game today. You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face in frustration with yourself—the game had completely slipped your mind.

Clearly, you weren’t completely innocent in the fact that you and Christian hadn’t been spending time together recently.

You grabbed the finished cup of coffee, pouring a bit of creamer in it before you hurried back up to your bedroom to get changed.

You turned the phone’s screen off, tossing it onto your bathroom counter before turning on your shower and stepping in. You tried to move as quickly as possible, hoping to make it to the stadium and set things right before the game began. You knew that Christian didn’t play as well when he was upset, and the last thing you wanted was to be the reason Chelsea’s golden American had a poor performance.

Plus, you selfishly just wanted to be rid of the empty feeling that came with any separation between you and Christian.

When you stepped out of the shower and onto the soft mat, having completely rinsed off, the room was stuffy and the steam had fogged up the mirror. When you checked your phone again, Mason had texted you several minutes before, right after you had jumped in the shower.

You finished getting ready in record time, running out of the front door with your hair still slightly damp, and you prayed that no one noticed how hastily your makeup had been done. You tapped your fingers nervously on the steering wheel as you drove toward Stamford Bridge, the minutes creeping closer and closer to the time for kickoff as you sat in the London traffic.

When you finally arrived, you rushed to the private entrance, sending Mason a short text as you walked to let him know that you had arrived. The face that greeted you was not Mason’s, but one of the security staff that you recognized from your many trips to the Bridge over the last couple of years. He greeted you with a warm smile, explaining that Mason had sent him to fetch you since they were already beginning to leave the changing room and line up for the tunnel walk when he had gotten your text.

The security guard led you through the winding halls of the stadium and up to the box where the family and friends of the team would sit together. You found your way into an empty seat next to Sophia, Kai’s girlfriend, and she greeted you with a warm welcome and a quick embrace.

When you turned your eyes to the pitch, your heart sank as you realized the players were already standing on the field, in position and awaiting the starting whistle. You realized you would have no chance to try to wave to Christian to get his attention before the game started. Unless Mason had told him, he likely didn’t have a clue you were even in the stadium.

You were, however, thankful to see that Christian had still made the starting lineup, despite his run-in with Potter earlier in the morning. But as the whistle sounded out and the boys began moving around the pitch, it quickly became clear that he wasn’t playing up to his usual standard. He seemed to be two steps behind on every play, making sloppy touches that would give possession to the defender. He was in his own head, and it was affecting every move he made on the field.

Sophia and you didn’t talk much through the first half. She knew how intensely you typically watched the matches, but she noticed how quiet you were compared to the lively and rambunctious cheering you usually brought on game day.

When the whistle blew to signal the end of the half, Chelsea was trailing, 1-0. With Christian on the front line unable to focus enough to make a proper play, the entire offense struggled to create opportunities, and the whole team seemed to be lagging.

You watched as Christian walked sullenly toward the tunnel, head hung low. You knew he was frustrated with himself for his performance so far in the game, and you resented the part you had to play in that.

Sophia, noticing the solemn way you looked at your boyfriend, knew that something was off. She draped her arm over the back of your seat, asking you about your somber mood as soon as your attention had shifted away from Christian since he had disappeared down the tunnel. You sighed and began recounting the former night’s event to her in a quiet voice, hoping none of the other family members in the box were listening in. You told her about how Christian had come home, barely eating the dinner you had prepared before trying to leave the kitchen. You told her about the foolish words you had both let fly out of frustration, stupid accusations that neither of you meant. You told her how you were afraid that you and Christian had lost your “spark,” that feeling of never wanting to let the other go that every couple felt when they first got together. You told her that you were afraid that you didn’t know how to get it back.

You hadn’t even realized you were crying until a teardrop splashed on your hand. You used your fingers to wipe carefully under your eyes, trying not to smear the makeup you had hastily put on only a couple of hours before.

Sophia opened her mouth to address your concerns when something caught her eye over your shoulder. You turned to see that the boys were walking out of the tunnel, and you waited impatiently to try to catch a glimpse of Christian.

When he finally emerged, Mason’s arm was slung over his shoulders, holding him close as Mason seemed to be trying to give him words of encouragement. His head was still hung low. Mason squeezed his arm around Christian, turning him to face the stands once they were standing on the pitch, and pointed in your direction. A frown creased his eyebrows as his eyes followed where Mason’s finger was pointing.

When his eyes landed on you, his face softened immediately, the frown vanishing from his expression. His eyes grew big, his arms falling to his sides as he took you in, wearing the blue jersey that he knew bore his name across the shoulders. Mason ruffled his hair with a grin, walking away to let him have his moment, but Christian didn’t pay him any mind, only focused on you.

You raised your hand, giving Christian a shy wave. The faintest of smiles curled his lips, tainted with a hint of sadness. He brought his fingers to his lips, blowing you a short kiss before he moved further onto the pitch. He walked backward for a few steps, still looking at you before he turned and jogged to his starting position for the second half.

Sophia drew the arm that had been draped over the back of your chair back to her side, nudging you gently. She had a grin on her face when you looked over. “Yeah, that spark is still there. Don’t worry,” she reassured. You covered your face with your hand, trying to hide the blush that you knew was covering your cheeks. “You’ve just hit a rough patch. It happens to every couple, especially after you’ve been living together for a while.”

“Really?” you asked hopefully.

“Really,” she smiled. “It happened with Kai and I, too. A few months after he transferred to Chelsea and we moved to London, there was about a month where we barely ever saw each other. It took a screaming match and then us both crying on the floor of the kitchen with a bottle of wine for us to get past it.” The two of you laughed at the story, and you wiped another tear from your face. “But we were stronger after we got through it. And you and Christian will be too, I know it.”

She took your hand in hers and squeezed in an effort to comfort you. “Just remember to be intentional about spending time together. Life will get crazy from time to time, but if you keep pursuing each other, you’ll be okay.”

“Thank you, Sophia,” you smiled genuinely at her. “You really give the best advice.”

“Don’t mention it.” She pulled you into a side hug, over the arm of the stadium seats. As you pulled away from each other, the sound of the whistle rang through the air, and the second half was under way. You took in a big breath, letting it out slowly and praying silently that this 45’ would go better than the first had.

In a matter of minutes, it was clear that Christian was a completely different player than he had been in the first half. He was positioning himself well to make runs, taking much more controlled and calculated touches, and beating his opponents to the ball. Chelsea had made several great plays, pressing up the field and creating several breaks that resulted in near-goals. The whole stadium seemed to be holding its breath, hoping that it was only a matter of time before one of the presses ended with the ball in the net.

It finally happened in the 54th minute. With renewed fervor, the back line moved the ball around the defensive half before Thiago played the ball up the field toward the left wing. Christian broke through the opposing defense, carrying the ball up the line with players right on his heels. With quick feet, he came up to the side of the penalty box, crossing the ball toward the center.

A hush fell over the crowd as the ball floated through the air, toward a mess of players from both teams in the box. You and Sophia leaped to your feet, along with the rest of the audience, watching as the ball landed at Kai’s feet. With a quick touch to settle it, he shot the ball through the maze of defenders into the top corner of the goal. The keeper’s fingers just missed the ball, and the entire stadium erupted in a roar of cheering as the net shook with the ball’s impact.

Kai ran towards the sideline, embracing Christian in celebration, much the same way that you and Sophia clung to one another, jumping up and down as you yelled and cheered.

As the game resumed, Chelsea seemed to have hit their second wind, the game-tying goal driving them in their desire to get another. Several chances were created in the following minutes, the crowd letting out groans at the barely-missed shots that held the potential to propel Chelsea into the lead.

You were starting to get nervous as the game approached it’s last 10 minutes, not wanting the game to end in a draw after Chelsea’s incredible turn-around. You anxiously bit at the skin around your fingernails as you watched.

In the 86th minute, as fans from both sides were beginning to get restless, Reece played a quick ball through the line, Christian sprinting to catch up with it as he broke through the defense and drove quickly down the field. It was a one-on-one between him and the keeper now. He approached the penalty box swiftly as the keeper came out to meet him, trying to force a mistake. But Christian kept his head about him, taking a calculated touch to curve the ball around to the right of the keeper as he dropped to the ground in an attempt to block the shot.

The ball bounced off of the goalpost and across the line. Once again, the fans erupted in a chorus of applause and shouting. Christian sprinted back up the field, coming to stand at the sideline in front of where he knew you were sitting. The rest of the Chelsea boys ran up behind him, embracing him or ruffling his hair in congratulations. Ignoring all of the chaos around him as his teammates whooped and hollered, Christian locked eyes with you, tapping his hand over his heart.

You raised your fist to your lips, pinky pointed up as you kissed your hand. Christian mimicked your action. It was a silly thing the two of you did that had started back when you were still only friends and continued throughout your relationship. You would link your fingers together in a pinky promise, kissing your hands, as a reminder of the promise you made to always be there for each other.

The boys pulled Christian away from the sideline, still thumping him on the back as they yelled in celebration.

The last minutes of the game passed quickly, and Chelsea fans voiced their approval as the final whistle blew, signaling the game’s end in a 2-1 victory for the Blues. The players and staff for both teams made their way onto the pitch, shaking hands cordially, offering words of congratulations to one another, and embracing their own players. You and Sophia moved down toward the barrier that separated the seats from the field, waiting where the boys would usually come to greet their loved ones.

It didn’t take long for Kai to come running over, leaning up to bring Sophia into a sweet kiss. They smiled at each other, sharing quiet words as she congratulated him on his goal. You saw nothing but adoration in their eyes as they looked at one another, and the sight warmed your heart.

Kai looked over to you after a few moments. “Your lover boy will be over here any minute,” he laughed. “As soon as he can get all the guys to stop hounding him for his game-winning goal.” You giggled at his words, eyes still searching through the mass of people for him.

Christian finally emerged, pushing through the crowd in your direction. As soon as he set his eyes on you, he ran the last few yards, arms outstretched to pull you into an embrace. Not caring about the layer of sweat that covered his body, you leaned over the short barrier, wrapping your arms around his neck as your bodies finally met.

Unsatisfied with the space left between you, Christian carefully pulled you over the barrier separating the two of you. You squealed in surprise before he set you on the ground in front of him, still holding your body firmly, refusing to let go of you for fear that you could slip away.

His face was buried in your neck and you brushed your fingers over his damp skin to soothe him. His arms still kept a firm hold on your waist when he pulled back to look at you. His eyes were moist with tears when as he gazed down at you.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I was being stupid, and I never should have—”

“Shhh,” you cut him off, cupping his jaw with your hand. You ran your thumb over his cheekbone as his eyes darted around your face, searching for any reassurance that the two of you were okay after the fight. “I know, Christian. It’s okay.” You saw the relief washing over Christian’s body as he pulled you into a gentle kiss, pressing his lips firmly to yours as he tried to communicate all of the things he was feeling.

“We can talk about everything when we get home, okay?” you asked softly, and he nodded, smiling down at you. “Right now, I just want to tell you how proud I am of you.”

The pink blush immediately painted his cheeks as he grinned sheepishly and hid his face in your shoulder. You giggled at his actions, knowing that he never took compliments well, yet you refused to stop telling him how highly you thought of him. You held the back of his head and felt him place a couple kisses to your shoulder before he stood up to look at your face again.

“I’m sorry I got you all sweaty,” he pulled the long-sleeved compression shirt over his hand, using it to wipe your neck off as you both laughed together.

“It’s fine,” you smiled at him. “You’ll just have to help me wash it off in the shower later.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprised by your suggestive comment as a grin spread across his face.

The two of you waved to Kai and Sophia as Christian took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together as you walked away from them.

He brought your intertwined hands up to his face, kissing the back of yours as you made your way toward the tunnel so you could leave the stadium.

#christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic imagines #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic fics #footballer fic #footballer fics #football imagine #footballer imagines #footballer imagine #christian pulisic #christian pulisic fluff #christian pulisic angst #christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic blurb

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i-cant-sing · 1 year

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Toji would freak the f out if reader tried to conctact her mom from the afterlife using her powers. Is like that scene with the guy walkibg with the pizzas and see the room on fire.

Toji walking into your room with takeout: hey, baby! I got us lunch- WOAH OMG WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!? Y/N, GET AWAY FROM THAT!

And baby Y/n is just sitting on her playmat with a confused look, not realising her dad's freaking out over the dead woman that is ominously sitting behind you. You've practically made the woman come back to life, crawl out from her grave, and is now having a tea party with you.

Baby Y/n probably just goes: huh? Dad! Have you met my mom?! Isn't she so cool? And so beautiful?

And the mom in question has twigs and mud all over her, black stuff coming out of her mouth, pale skin and visible bones, as she just glares at him.

Toji, sweating bullets: u-uh yeah, sure! Y/n, sweetie, come here. *you skip over happily to him* why don't you go bring your mom something to eat?

Y/n, nods and runs to the kitchen to find her HK snacks: okay!

Toji, turning towards your mom: it was nice seeing you again but you're gonna have to leave now-

Dead mom: you... you didn't even call meeee....jerkkkk. And I gave birth to our beautiful childdd...

Toji: sorry about that, but I didn't know you were pregnant. Besides! It's you who left after giving birth! You vanished into thin air!

Dead mom, throwing your stuffie at Toji: your bleached hair cousin killed me!

Toji: ohhh... that makes a lot of sense. See, I didn't know that. But seriously, you're still gonna have to go!

Dead mom: why?why can't I be with my child? Why should I be away from her?

Toji: because she can't grow up with a dead mother. It's gonna mess her up, and if you haven't already realised it when she summoned you, she isn't already normal. So, for her sake, leave.

Dead mom:

Toji: how about this? Before I drop you off at the cemetery, I can take you and Y/n out to the carnival? Its Halloween, nobody will realise that you're dead. They'll think it's really great makeup.

Dead Mom: fair enough. But there's one more stop you need to drop me off before going to the cemetery.

Toji: where?

Dead Mom: where does Naoya live again?

Toji: why- ohhh. Consider it done, actually, I'm gonna come along with you. I wanna watch him piss his pants at the sight of you.

Y/n, running back in with arms full of snacks: I'm back! Let's eat! Wait, dad?

Toji: yeah, baby?

Y/n: did you kiss mom yet?

Toji: what?

Y/n: you didn't kiss mom? Please kiss mom! That's what mom's and dad's do!

Toji: sweetie, I don't think it's necessary-

Dead Mom, smirking: I think it is. Kiss me, Toji. Kiss me.

Y/n: kiss! Kiss! Kiss!

Toji, mumbles: fuck.

And while no pictures were taken, I do like Tom imagine that perhaps Toji managed to capture 1 photo of all 3 of you at the carnival, laughing and smiling at the camera (with u obviously dressed as Hello Kitty, your mom as a zombie, and Toji as Mario), and he keeps that photo on him at all times💖

#yandere toji fushiguro #yandere toji #yandere naoya #yandere naoya zenin #jujutsu toji #toji fushiguro x reader #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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quitealotofsodapop · 5 months

Text

Part 3 of: @justweirddino sending in funny and accurate asks.

As always I have put transcripts in the alt image descriptions.

The Gold and Silver twins probs have a massive list of enemies and vengances they want resolve, but they're so absent-minded that they frequently forget just why they dont like that person/what they did. They def find their own names among their "black book" of enemies and are just puzzled.

They haven't unlocked his friendship events yet. Gotta feed and talk to Macaque everyday like a Stardew Valley npc before he unloads his trauma.

MK is willing to use the Staff if it means conflict resolution. He will use it to threaten others to be nice.

Oh gosh, I love the idea of Huntsman having legit rizz, but it completely flies over Sandy's head. FIshman is sweet but damn he bad at responding to obvious romantic signs. X3

Wukong saw glowsticks become a thing and would spend ages trying to figure out How. Why stick glow when cracked/bended? Why no heat? Why did people scream when he tried drinking the yucky liquid inside at the discotech? He did't have his Staff handy for their introduction, so the second the Staff is no longer sealing DBK, Wukong tries cracking the Staff to see if it glows. He breaks his knee instead. Macaque laughed while MK was just puzzled Why.

The second Macaque is gone; Wukong turns into a mega-bachelor again. Hyper impulsive, binge-watching Monkey Cop, eating nothing but peaches and takeout. The second Mac gets back from the moon, its like walking into a house after a frat party. He def yells at Wukong to clean up his mess.

Nudity is canon. Wukong busted out the furnace naked cus it burned his clothes off.

DEFINETELY. Wukong is gotdang short already (apparently less than 1.3m/4.26 ft in the book), and Macaque being just a little taller would get so on his nerves! XD Even if both monkeys (unglamoured) reach about the height of a teenager, Wukong is def wearing lifted shoes. Macaque taunts him about it endlessly.

Oh gosh, I have an idea for TMKATI-au in Chapter 3; where Pigsy and Tang are "whisper-arguing" in the kitchen while Shadowpeach are in the restaurant sheltering from the rain.

Pigsy: "I'm not about to harbor a pair of shady demons just cus they look pathetic in the rain!" Tang, the one who brought them there: "Aww, c'mon Piggy!" *whispers* "They're having a kid and it looks like they got kicked out or something..." Pigsy: *annoyed snort* Macaque, hearing the convo cus ears: "...Wukong do you honestly believe this place is safe?" Wukong: "Uh yeah - I order from here all the time!" Macaque: *judgemental glare* Wukong, laughes nervously: "Haha...Ok. I'm not 100% sure. Honestly I was thinking about how we're gonna get some food... You're in a... vunerable condition and I want to make sure we're at atleast fed and warm before deciding anything major. You know... future-wise." Macaque: *sighs tiredly* Pigsy & Tang, eavesdropping via kitchen counter: *looks at one another* Tang: *gives puppy-dog eyes* Pigsy, conflicted growling: "Grr... OK FINE! They can stay for some dinner and maybe crash on the futon for a bit. But once the rain clears off, I'm kicking them out!"

(Pigsy procedes to not kick them out, and instead over the course of the late-evening meal decides to hire Wukong/let the two monkeys stay in the empty top floor of the building. He's bad at saying no to Tang and bad at turning away sad-looking rain-soaked monkeys.)

I always love these ask-ins, even if I ramble a little off-topic with the ideas they gave me! As always ty @justweirddino !

I put the slightly rauchier ones under read more.

This one is 100% a line Tang has said aloud and in front of polite company without batting an eye. He has no shame.

Macaque and Wukong too. Gotta make sure anyone within striking distance knows that you're both taken. By eachother. Macaque says it to tease, Wukong says it as a warning.

And finally, an ask @justweirddino actually messaged me about ahead of time due to it being about a rather... spicy topic revovling around the immortal monkeys not understanding modern slang terms. Had to put it in two screenshot to fit.

Nezha has most modern slang downloaded into his brain by the time he gets to earth. Not to use, but to decipher.

Wukong is def the person to remember a random detail from a movie trailer from years ago and take what the trailer says at face value. Also the thought of him randomly declaring that a movie mom is a MILF, serious-faced as the others look at him like he grew three heads (again), is sending me XD

#lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #suggestive language tw #sun wukong #lmk pigsy #lmk tang #liu er mihou #six eared macaque #qi xiaotian #lmk mei #long xiaojiao #lmk nezha #the monkey king and the infant #the monkey king and the infant au #lmk au

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poisonsage808 · 1 year

Text

♡ Seasons Greetings ♡

ModernAU!Sandor Clegane x Reader

• As soon as the temperature drops, calls start ending like;

“Don’t forget—“

“I won’t forget a jacket!”

• Yeah, you usually forget your jacket but Sandor somehow knew that you would so he keeps one on hand, even when he doesn’t know if he’ll see you. You wear it often and it makes him ridiculously happy to see you in his clothes, also warm

• Going out with friends to look at lights, walking stumbling around because you poured irish cream in your hot chocolate. Sandor brought his own flask of whiskey and poured WAY more into his coffee, he’s not even close to being tipsy. But he is having a nice time. Especially when you’re tucked under his arm a giggling disaster

• Now this started before winter but now it’s just important to do more often; if nights end at your house, you massage (unscented) lotion wherever he’ll let you

• “At least your hands,” you asked so sweetly but if Sandor falls asleep, and he usually does, before you’re finished you just keep rubbing his muscles.

• You take extra care to dab some on his scar because, yes, that still needs to be moisturized. All finished, you kiss him softly and cuddle up next your own personal heater

• Speaking of, Sandor grumbled once about being kissed with chapstick on your lips. Now he doesn’t, he subconsciously started licking his lips after you’ve kissed him goodbye

• Also carries chapstick in the console of his car because you’re always losing it. If you ask why he has it, he says it’s one that you’d lost. It’s not, he bought it, picked out the flavor and everything!

• Don’t you dare put on holiday music! “I’ll throw ya in the snow and you can eat that if ya don’t turn that shite off.” (This goes without saying, don’t open the door for carolers either)

• Sandor likes to cook and he’s really freaking good at it too! He invites you to dinner once and you expect takeout— NO! He was in the kitchen finishing up the most scrumdiddlyumptious meal you’ve ever had

• After eating you help him with the dishes then move to the couch to snuggle under the blanket and watch a movie

• If you have to drive at night or in heavy snow, Sandor asks you to let him know when you’ve reached wherever you’ve gone. If you’re at his house and planning to go home, he’ll convince you to stay the night

• Depending on where you are in the relationship, he might offer for you to leave some belongings and such there. It’s supposed to be a practical offer but he’s so bashful about it and you can’t stop smiling

• It makes you so incredibly sad the first holiday you spent together that Sandor didn’t expect you to get him a gift, his surprised expression made you frown

• You don’t even have to go overboard with presents, he’ll feel spoiled regardless. If you buy him something, make him something or even give him a card he’ll find a safe spot for it

• Gift him something sentimental and Sandor won’t say a word, he’ll just bring you into the softest kiss and rest his forehead on yours

• “Your turn,” He says, dropping a bag because this man does not know how to wrap boxes into your lap

• Sandor’s actually quite good at holiday shopping, he thinks of the person and four rules when buying; something they’ll want, need, wear and read

• Obviously not everyone in his life gets all four (or any) just you

• And Arya

• Ok and Sansa but that’s it!

18+ ONLY (suggestive themes ahead)

• Sandor furrows his brows the day you return his jacket to him, “Don’t want it anymore?”

• Shyly, you admit it doesn’t smell like him anymore. Before you can stammer out that you only wanted him to wash it with his soap or even ask to borrow another one, Sandor’s on you

“Like the way I smell, hm?”

“Don’t be mean—“ You blush and try to hide your face but he pins your hands down with ease

“I’m feeling rather givin’ actually,” He smirks against your neck, his beard tickling your skin, “Go on then and tell me what ya wanted.”

• You do leave his house the next morning with an extra jacket.. just also with red cheeks, bite marks and of course smelling like Sandor

♡ requests are open! ♡

#poiboidrabbles #sandor clegane x reader #x reader #game of thrones imagine #imagine #game of thrones modern au #sandor the hound clegane

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worldheadcanons · 1 year

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You know that Kaguya sama episode where Shirogane finally got some sleep and he finally looks well rested and expected Kaguya to find him more attractive but doesn't work because she has a glaring kink?

That scenario with England shaving his eyebrows to be thinner to impress the reader but she just looks at him like😑. While internally she's all 'Why? Why did you shave them? You looked cooler with your thick brows, and now you look like any average guy in the streets'

☆ i actually like your thick eyebrows!

starring. . . feminine reader and england.

author notes; i think the title is super funny like those random ‘reincarnated as a slime prince’ animes.. i’m never changing it so don’t ask. if you want to recommend this piece to others you WILL refer to it by its proper title “i actually like your thick eyebrows!” thank you. this is not proofread btw lol

> arthur kirkland!

— he huffed softly as he looked at himself in the mirror, taking in the appearance of his face. it was a daily occurrence for kirkland to wash up and look himself over before heading out the door. today, however, he paid special attention to his eyebrows. his thick.. some would say ugly.. eyebrows. he doesn’t know what possessed him to pick up his razor but one thing led to another and a couple seconds later, he was staring at a completely different arthur in the mirror. a more youthful arthur.. a cooler arthur.. an arthur with thinner eyebrows. by the time he was done tending to himself he was almost late for work. he hurried out the door, calling out a quick ‘i love you, bye!’ to his wife upstairs.

— you had no clue why he was in the bathroom for so long. usually he would’ve been out of the door much earlier. you figured it was something trivial though, so you didn’t bother investigating the matter further. as he called out his daily ‘i love you’ you replied with your daily ‘i love you too’ before deciding to get up and get ready for the day ahead of you. both of you worked each day so you didn’t see him again until the evening when it was time for dinner. you had both previously decided on getting a simple meal tonight. chinese takeout. it was delicious, cheap, and easy to work with.

— with all that in mind, there you were, sitting at the kitchen table eating some of your takeout. you always got him earlier than your husband. you tried to wait for kirkland but he was taking too long to get home. just as you were eyeing one of his egg rolls, tempted to steal it for yourself, you heard the front door of your home open. “welcome home! i’m in the kitchen,” you called out, letting him know where you were.

— you heard the rustling of him taking off his coat and putting it in its place. there was a few footstep noises and then.. voila, there he was. as soon as he walked in and you were able to see his complete face, your jaw dropped. your eye might’ve twitched. arthur was.. ugly. not extremely ugly but something was.. off. something about his face was different today. it wasn’t the same. you didn’t like it but you didn’t want to be rude. you couldn’t even place your finger on what exactly was wrong, so you just put on a smile and asked him about his day.

— “good!” he replied cheerfully, sitting himself down across from you and opening up his box of takeout. he took in a nice forkful of food before continuing to speak. “very good. notice anything uh.. new about me?”

— you let out a small hum before responding. “it’s something to do with your face but it’s not your hair,” you began, taking this opportunity to examine his face. his mouth was the same, ever so kissable. his nose was perfectly normal.. his cheek still had the same scar it did when you first met him.. what about his eyes? no, they were perfectly fine.. perfectly fine eyes.. wait. softly, you gasped. “your eyebrows! what did you do to them?” your surprise barely managed to hide the fact that you disliked the change.

— he grinned, proud as a peacock at his new look. “i shaved them so they’re a bit thinner. what do you think?” kirkland asked, waggling his eyebrows assumedly for you. ew… at this, you frowned slightly.

— “it’s ugly,” you said bluntly, picking up a forkful of fried rice and putting it in your mouth. you continued on eating, keeping your eyes mostly focused on the food in front of you instead of your husband’s eyebrows.

— “i know right— wait, ugly?” he narrowed his eyes, trying to scan your face for any hint of sarcasm. you could be quite the cheeky lady when you wanted to be. it was one of the many things he loved about you. unfortunately, it seemed that you were being completely honest right now. you really didn’t like his thin eyebrows. arthur sputtered a bit, “ugly how? everyone complimented me at work today. even francis liked it. he said i looked less ugly than usual which basically means handsome!”

— you finished chewing the food in your mouth, swallowing before talking. “i just don’t like it.”

— “but francis said—“ he began.

— “francis isn’t your wife, arthur, i am,” you replied, showing him your hand and pointing towards the ring he had bought you a year or two ago. your voice had raised slightly, and some anger could be heard in your tone. it wasn’t purposeful but the situation had escalated rather quickly. it wasn’t an argument.. but it felt like one. neither one of you wanted to fight really, so things went quiet for a few moments as you both reassessed the situation.

— he was the first to break the silence, shifting in his seat before quietly asking, “you really like my thick eyebrows?”

— “of course. you look.. too plain without them. i think they’re charming,” you said, glancing up at kirkland. you hadn’t expected to be greeted with a look of fascination. you had always thought it was obvious that you enjoyed his various unique features.

— he smiled a little at you, quirking his head to the side. “you do? really?”

— “yup.. hopefully they grow back soon. i miss your bushy brows.”

— he quickly finished up his food. when he was done, arthur got up and wrapped his arms around your waist. he hugged you from your side, kissing at your cheek gently. “thank you, love. thank you.” he was truly grateful to have your love. just hugging you and kissing you wasn’t enough, no. he had to tell you thank you. he had to tell you over and over. even as his words became unintelligible, you could tell he was saying thank you.

— as he finally moved to pull himself away from your warmth, you stopped him, taking hold of his face gently. his cheeks were cupped by your gentle hands for a moment or two. then you used your thumbs to gently trace over kirkland’s now thin eyebrows. “please, please grow back soon,” you mumbled under your breath, staring at his eyebrows.

— “they will, love. they will,” he murmured in reply, chuckling softly. he could burn them off and they’d still grow back just as thick. it was a fact that used to make him upset but.. it bothered him much less now. now he felt.. almost excited. he was excited for their return because he knew you’d be excited. and when you were excited.. arthur blushed slightly at his thoughts. it would be a special night, that was for sure.

#hetalia #hetalia x reader #hetalia x you #hetalia headcanons #england x reader #arthur x reader #arthur kirkland #hws england #hws

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luckycharms1701 · 5 months

Note

Howdy Friendo *tips hat with a sheepish smile*

Pleasure being able to read a handful of your delightful little shorts thanks to a dear friend of mine (the little turd bless her heart 🙄😆🧡) and wanted to express my impressment with your stories. You truly have a gift with words! I was wondering if I might make a request? No worries if you don’t have the time or energy to do so (must take care of that beautiful mind first and foremost honey)

But how would the Bay/Rise boys (you pick) react to their S/O calling them, obviously having been crying and saying “I need you”? I’m curious to see to see your take on it my dear, but again take care of yourself first please and know how wonderful you are!

howdy anon-chan!! *curtsies*

thank you very much for saying such sweet things!!!!!!!! 😭😭 i’m really really (two reallys!) glad you’re enjoying my silly little turtle thoughts

i really hope you’re still around lol, i know this ask has been in my inbox for a While. happy to talk about this though, it’s sweet to think about!

the rise boys struck me upside the head with this one. i had fun, thanks for asking!!

Raph- “I’m on my way!”

Raph is up and out of the lair practically before you finish your sentence, grabbing his sweatshirt if it’s daytime. Doesn’t think about Leo’s portals, doesn’t think about the Turtle Tank or the Shell Hogs, just runs. He is on the phone with you the whole time he’s on his way, asking if you need him to pick anything up. He tries to ask what’s wrong, but you just sniffle, so he doesn’t push it. It’s quiet until he lands on your fire escape and hangs up. The second he’s in your apartment you’re in his arms. “It’s okay sweetheart, Raph’s got ya.” He lets you do whatever you need to do, cry or beat on him or pace, but he’s touching you the whole time. He’ll get a little upset if you don’t want to tell him what’s wrong but he will also get over it because he understands. Holds you all night long for like a week afterwards, to protect you.

Leo- Shing

He is already in your apartment, hanging up his phone while the portal closes behind him. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong hermosa?” He grabs you and tangles you with him on the couch, until there’s no telling where you end and he starts. He wants to talk about it. But he will ramble on about whatever pops into his head while stroking your back until you calm down. Once you’ve calmed down though, he will coax it out of you. If it’s something that he can fix, it gets fixed immediately and with extreme prejudice. If it’s not something he can fix, prepare to be pampered. This turtle will worship the ground you walk on when you let him.

Donnie- Click

Hopefully you’ve been around long enough to understand how Donnie works, because he did not just hang up on you because he doesn’t care. He proves that by showing up at your apartment a bit later with your favorite takeout, favorite candy, a giant cat plush, and your favorite movie. He’ll let you do whatever you need to do while you watch the movie, whether that’s curl up on his chest, lay your head on his lap, or cuddle with the cat plush on the other side of the couch. (He might get a little jealous of the plush if you choose the last option, but he won’t say anything. Yet.) After the movie, he’ll tell you that he’s willing to listen if you need to talk. You need to be careful though, because if he finds out someone hurt you, it’s jover. No more Mr. Nice Donnie.

Mikey- “Leeeeo-” Click

Mikey tumbles through the portal and promptly bundles you up in a blanket and sets you on the couch. He bustles to the kitchen, chattering at you while he makes tea and whips up something quick to eat. he sets it down on the coffee table and then starts hand feeding you, still chattering away. once the food and tea are gone, he pulls you into him, blanket and all, then asks what’s wrong. he’ll listen, he’ll give advice, he’ll sit in silence with you, whatever you need. he won’t leave though, not even if a mission comes and his brothers need him, not until he’s made you laugh. it doesn’t take all that long, he’s got a talent for it. he stays a few extra days anyway, just because he missed you (and to make absolutely sure you’re okay now).

#tmnt #rottmnt #rise raph #rise leo #rise donnie #rise mikey #writing tag #if your friend is who i think it might be #i agree #an absolute gremlin #donnie bringing you a cat plushie courtesy of my cat laying on me and purring up an absolute storm while i was writing this #honestly had trouble with mikey's because it wanted to turn into a full blown fic #also i was sitting here grinning like an idiot while telling myself 'no!! you're upset!! stop that!!'#now excuse me i'm going to be late to my volunteer job again #really need to stop writing on saturday mornings

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kevjrr · 1 year

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Title: Bad Day

Summary: Neymar is having a bad day and he does not want company. He had made that clear but someone knocks on his door anyway. Spoiler alert: it’s Leo who just wants to help and Ney doesn’t mind one bit.

Pairing: Neymessi [Neymar and Messi]

Tags: Tooth rotting fluff, mutual pinning, very, very low key hurt/comfort

Third person’s POV

Neymar is having a bad day. Why? Firstly, Davi was supposed to come tomorrow but his flight got delayed because of bad weather. He understands, really he does, but he had so much planned as it was his day off and he could have spent the whole day with him. No interruptions.

Secondly, he woke up with the worst migraine known to men, causing him to mess up countless times in practice. To the point that even Masche had asked him if he was alright. His coach has never sent him this many dirty looks in a single day before.

And thirdly, there is a new rumor about him floating around. He has seen articles saying that he is apparently dating a Spanish model named Camila. He has only met her ONCE, at a party. He had merely shook her hand too, it was not as if he kissed her cheek or something. He has only recently broken up with Bruna. What are his friends thinking of him now?

So yes, he is having a bad day and for once, he does not want company. He is pretty sure his moody aura at training had made that abundantly clear, so why is someone knocking on his door? At - he turns to look at his clock - 9 pm?

Sighing, he chugs his glass of water in one go and goes to open the door, gasping when he sees who is behind it. It’s Leo, looking soft and cuddly in his oversized hoodie and sweatpants. His irritation flies out of the window. He can never stay angry at Leo.

On the contrary, Neymar wants to hug him and never let go. He swears that one whole night of cuddles with the man will be enough to solve half of his problems. Sadly, he does not think that Leo will be down for that.

"Ney? Can I come in?" The man in question asks.

"Yes. Yes, sorry." The Brazilian moves to the side, allowing him to slip inside.

"Did you tidy up? Your house looks neater than last time." Leo comments, looking around.

Neymar clears his throat, slightly embarrassed, "Uh yeah. It wasn't looking very...nice."

The Argentine does not reply to that, he only hums. Whether in agreement or just to show that he is paying attention, Ney has no idea.

He raises a brow in confusion when Leo does not walk towards the living room, he makes a bee-line for the kitchen instead.

"Where are you going?"

"You haven't eaten yet, have you? I'll cook something or do you want takeout?"

Neymar almost bumps into a wall in surprise. "How did you know that?!"

Leo opens a cabinet and takes a bag of spaghetti out before turning towards the younger man, "I just do. Takeout or should I cook this?" He asks again, waving the bag around.

Ney shakes his head to try to break out of his stupor. What does he mean by he just knows? There were even dishes in the sink from the day before.

He decides that it might be better not to question him.

"Take out. You don't have to cook-"

"Cooking, it is then."

"I just said-"

"Take out isn't good for you. And I asked what you wanted to eat not what I have or do not have to do. If you don't want me to cook solely because you think it'll bother me then I'm cooking because it does not. Not if it's for you."

Ney's jaw drops and his cheeks turn red. He is still not used to Leo's blatant favouritism towards him. Yes, 'favoritism'. There is no other way to put it.

For the past few months, he kept offering Neymar rides to their training centre and to his house. He would also offer to take him out for dinner or lunch or even ask him to come to his apartment to hang out. Alone. The older man would set up the Brazilian's favorite game and cook for him if he stays long enough. He has also been more affectionate, that is, hug him more often or simply linger a little more than strictly necessary whenever they accidentally touch each other.

The younger man does not know how to handle his idol, his crush -yes, he has a crush on him- sudden increase in interest and attention, so he usually just shyly goes with it. Ignoring the guys' curious looks ever time. Thankfully, none of them ever comment on it. Be it out of the goodness of their heart because they can sense that Neymar is as clueless as them or because meddling in Leo's business never ends well.

Don't get him wrong while the attention - dare he say, affection-definitely confuses him, he loves it. And he hopes it never stops. Sue him, he's getting used to it.

"Sit."

Neymar jumps in surprise.

"What?"

The Argentine chuckles and gestures towards the counter. "You should sit, instead of just standing there staring off into space."

“Do you want some help?"

"Ney, you can't cook." Leo deadpans, looking slightly amused.

"I can still help!" The taller retorts indignantly however he does not try to defend his -rather, lack of- cooking skills. He knows he cannot cook and he still has that annoying headache but this does not mean he is entirely useless. He can still cut up veggies or stir the dish.

"Just sit and relax, Ney. I got this." He replies, gently opening and closing drawers and cabinets in search of whatever he needs next.

Seeing him trying so hard to not make a lot of noise makes Neymar wonder if he knows about his headache too. No, that will be absurd.

Ney moves a can of tomatoes away before hopping on the counter. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out as he stares at Leo walking around his kitchen as if he owns it. He likes the idea of that. Of them sharing a kitchen. A house. Just the two of them owning an apartment together, waking up and going to sleep next to each other.

Ney winces lowly, thinking so hard is making his migraine worse.

Just on cue, Leo stops stirring and sets the spoon down. He then moves towards Neymar and places his hands on the counter, on either sides of the younger man's hips.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." He replies automatically. Trying his best not to squirm under the other man's intense gaze.

"You sure? Because you seemed to have a headache earlier. At practice."

"Wha-what? How-"

"You wanted to do indoor drills."

"So...?"

"You hate indoor drills."

Neymar shuts his mouth with a clack. He does hate them. And he has definitely made it very obvious with his constant complaints in the past, whenever they were forced to do them.

The sunlight was making his head hurt even more and he kept losing focus, so he decided that it was finally time to stop running away from those drills but connecting his insistence on doing them to a headache sounded like a stretch.

"Why did you think of a headache though?"

"You looked like you were in pain and you kept clutching your head. It looks like it's still bugging you, I'm sorry I didn't notice immediately. Do you wanr me to-"

"Don't apologize." The Brazilian pauses and hesitates for a total of one second before taking Leo's hand in his, squeezing it.

The Argentine gives him a relieved smile before breaking eye contact to look at their intertwined fingers. "I wanted to ask you about it earlier but you left so quickly."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I was just..." He trails off, not sure in how much details he was willing to go just yet.

Leo studies him for a moment. After seemingly finding what he was searching for, he lets go of his hand and pats his hips. Then, he backs away, going back to stirring. Neymar tries not to feel disappointed, he loved having him so close.

"Tell me if the pain increases, yeah?" He asks - demands - still looking at the dish.

Neymar breathes a sigh of relief. Not sure why he was even worried to begin with. This is Leo. Leo who will never force him to do anything.

"Yes. I'll tell you if it does."

"Good."

He smiles at the older man's approving tone.

"Are you sure you don't want help?" He asks when Leo starts to cut an onion.

"No, don't worry."

"Are you sure sure?"

"Yes, Ney. I'm sure sure." He replies indulgently, trying to hide his smile.

"Why don't you wash your hands? I'm almost done."

"Okay." He jumps off the counter and goes to wash them in the bathroom, not wanting to disturb the other man who's now filling a jug with water.

When Neymar returns, Leo was already sitting at the table with two plates of food in front of him.

He looks up when he hears footsteps

“Wait. Come sit beside me." He says when Ney starts to pull the chair across of him.

The younger man's eyebrows lift up in surprise but he obeys immediately. Happy to be able to sit closer to Leo."Thank you for the food!" He exclaims as he inhales the delicious aroma of the dish. Its making his mouth water.

"No need to thank me."

Ney smiles in response, his cheeks tinting red and takes a bite.

"It's so good." He borderline moans. The taste is divine, as always. Everything the elder man makes tastes absolutely delicious.

Leo ducks his head, suddenly feeling shy. "I'm glad you think so."

"Of course I do!" The Brazilian replies absentmindedly as he scarfs down the food.

"Slow down before you choke, Ney." The elder scolds, his ears red. Compliments from the other man always makes him blush. He was working on this problem but he hasn't been very successful.

"Yes. Yes." Neymar responds, smiling sheepishly, embarrassed.

They eat in silence, enjoying each other's company, before the youngest breaks it.

Ney can tell that Leo wants to ask him about why he was in such a bad mood in training, from his constant fidgeting and sneaky glances. He only fidgets when he's surrounded by too many people and is uncomfortable or because something is eating at him.

He is sure that despite wanting to know, the Argentine will not ask him about it. Simply because Ney had backed out of telling him earlier. After thinking about it, he wants to tell him. He wants to let it out. Plus, again, this is Leo and Neymar usually has no qualms on sharing everything with him.

The said man listens quietly, he does not interrupt once. Not even when Ney works himself up, the stress catching up to him. He just maintains eye contact with him, trying to provide him with silent encouragement and comfort. He wanted Ney to look let all of his frustrations out.

It's only when he's done that Leo moves. He takes the taller man into his arms and rubs his back soothingly.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Ney. Davi will come very soon and we’ll see if you can have another day off before he leaves, okay? I’ll help you ask. And none of us believed that rumor. No one that matters believe it, Ney. Promise.” He whispers into his ear, trying to get his point across. Leo hates seeing the usually cheerful Brazilian so down. It doesn’t suit him.

Ney sniffles, burrowing his head in the older man’s chest. “You’ll help?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t believe it?”

“No, Ney. Why else do you think that nobody asked you about it? We know it’s bullshit.”

Neymar giggles at his words, “You cursed.”

The older man smiles fondly. “Yes, I did.” He replied, kissing his temple gently. “And we are all allowed to have bad days, so forget about your mistakes in training. It’s normal to make them, I made some too and I didn’t even have a headache.”

Neymar lets his words sink in. “Okay.” He murmurs against Leo’s chest.

“You worried us today. Next time, don’t run away from us. Talk to us, to me. We don’t mind you being in a bad mood. At all, we just want to help.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you guys…you really don’t mind?” He hates how vulnerable he sounds with all of his questions and insecure tone. His need to confirm. But he needs to know, to make sure.

“Don’t apologize, just try not to do it again. And yes, Neymar. We, I, don’t.” Leo uses his full name, emphasizing how serious he is.

“I’ll try. Definitely.” Neymar promises, beaming up at the other man.

“Good. Now, finish your food before it gets cold.” He orders, pressing one last kiss on the younger man’s forehead. He cannot help but squeeze him tightly for a few seconds before letting go.

Ney does just that. Cheeks red and marveling at how easy it is for the older man to make him feel better. Even his headache is almost gone.

_________

And maybe, just maybe, Neymar gets his wish of cuddling Leo all night long fulfilled. No one can resist his puppy eyes after all, let alone Leo - who has no reason to even try to resist them.

#neymar #neymar jr #leo messi #lionel messi #neymessi fic #football fic #neymessi #fic

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ramen8baka · 1 year

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Itachi x reader where he treats her like a baby 🥹

🎀 baby 🎀

Itachi x reader

summary: itachi might seem tough and cold hearted but he definitely has a soft spot for y/n…

tw: none?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• “morning baby,” Itachi coos to you. “mmhg” you growl, just starting to wake up.

“I made you breakfast and laid out your bath stuff so you can shower later after training.”

“oh, thank you. but ‘Tachi, I tell you every day that you don’t need to do things like this for me all the time” you suggest.

“but I like to and I love you” he replys

“I know, I know. And I love you too” you kiss him in the cheek. In response he Carrie’s you downstairs to the kitchen and sets on in a chair with your plate ready. “wow this all looks good!” You complement. Itachi just stands there proudly with his hands on his hips.

“ Once you finish eating let’s go train” he suggests.

“alright” •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• You performed yet another jutsu as itachi seemed to be working on his physical strength. “you wanna spar?” He asks, breaking the silence. “sure let me just practice this a few more times.” he nods.

“come on, man!” you yell in frustration. itachi kept knocking you down while you were sparring. but the thing was, every time he’s knock you down, he’s be all over you asking if you were ok.

“yes, for the 10th time, I’m ok” you smiled.

“I’m just checking on my baby” he said with puppy eyes. when you were done training you and itachi went home for the sun was already setting.

“what a tiring day.” You said as soon as you opened the door. “do you want me to run a bath? I can make dinner tonight. Or do you want takeout? Oh, you should prolly go to bed earlier tonight since we worked so hard today-“

“UCHIHA!” he froze. you only called him that when you needed his attention. “yes?” “I’m ok” you weakly laugh:

“it was just a lot of training and I’m tired.” You assure him.

“I know, I know. But my princess needs to be nice and healthy.” He pulls you in his lap since you both were sitting on the floor. “i’m your princess?” “of course you are! I love you y/n”

“love you too “tachi.” and you really did.

“but now that I think about it… a bath would be nice.”

you’re a W thanks for the request!

#Y/n #itachi babies reader #Itachi x reader #itachi uchiha #naruto #naruto x reader

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murderousxcoffee · 1 year

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My Dearest Adversaries Ch1 [Dilf!PolyGhostface x Reincarnated Sidney!Reader]

Prologue

Thanks to @brahmsheelshireshusband for the great name! No CWs apply, I think

Man, people used to tell you, you’ve got one hell of a future waiting for you.

You didn’t believe that then. You don’t believe it now, sitting on the floor of your shitty apartment, eating Chinese takeout. But things could be worse. God knows they could be so much worse.

It’s been less than two weeks since you moved in. Probably should’ve stayed in a campus dorm, but the thought of being around people made your skin crawl. Besides, this complex is nothing but college students and college dropouts and what you’re guessing are the two professors you saw not long ago.

People here are, uh, nice. You think. You’re not really the best at making friends, ‘cause of the nightmares and stuff. But you’ve got a friendly next door neighbor, and someone invited you over for pizza sometime. Everyone seems to know everyone else, and they seem open to knowing you, too. Cool?

Maybe you should try and tone down the cynicism. You don’t have any reason to be cynical anymore, anyway. And yet…

Somewhere in your heart, a snake is coiled tight. It’s always there, that tight binding of anger, inescapable, insatiable. It has been there since you were born, and it will be there, you know it will be there, when you die. You were, after all, born to die, you know this. That’s the knowledge you’ve carried since even before the murders of your parents. That you’re here to die, and you’re not going to die alone.

Your phone rings. You glance at the screen. UNKNOWN CALLER, it reads in big fat letters.

You go back to eating.

The phone rings on.

Eventually, they’ll get bored, you tell yourself.

The phone rings on.

Eventually that telemarketer will give up.

The phone rings on.

Damn, this guy’s persistent.

The phone rings on.

The coils tighten around your heart. You look at the screen again.

You set your food down on the blanket you spread on the floor, and pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Sidney.”

Your mouth goes dry. That voice.

“I’m glad you finally picked up. What took you so long?”

That fucking voice.

“You have the wrong number,” you speak.

“Do I?” he says.

You aren’t thinking, but you’re okay with that. Like allowing an old trusted friend to take the wheel of the car when you can’t drive. You pull yourself to your feet. As you pass the window, you look through the blinds. You’re high off the ground, where you should be safe. The courtyard below you is empty of anything but shadows in the streetlights. You look at the reflections in the glass at the room behind you. The room is empty of anything but you. How long will that be true?

“That’s not my name.” You turn around, head to the kitchen.

“Is it?” he says.

A weird thought surfaces - which one is this? - but you’re not thinking clearly, no, you’re not thinking at all, so you let it wash away.

There aren’t many knives in your kitchen, but there is one you trust in a drawer. You pull it out, press your back against the wall, and force yourself to breathe.

“Who is this?”

“Oh, you know… just a friend.”

“I don’t have friends.”

“Really? What a shame. I hoped you’d have brought some with you.” The voice lowers. “Is it really just you, Sidney? Did you really come back all alone?”

Your stomach rolls. You place your fist over it, holding the knife away from your body. In your mind, you think of blood, so much blood and your hand all wet and sticky and slimy with it. But not how you remember.

What you want to say is, I don’t need anyone else.

What you say instead is, “which one are you?”

“Which one?” His voice lights up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s always just been me.”

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?”

“I know you’re lying.” Your voice shakes.

“Is that so.”

You didn’t even realize you’d closed your eyes. Now you open them again. Adjust your grip on the knife. Get moving.

“Where are you?”

“What a good question! How about we play a little game? Get it right, and I’ll tell you.”

“Fuck you.” You throw open the closet door in the hall. Empty of everything but a few bags from a dollar store. There’s only three rooms in this apartment, why does it now seem so huge?

“Oh, don’t be like that, Sid.” The shortened name stops you in your tracks. Your hand shakes, your grip on the phone beginning to hurt. “We both know there’s only one way this can end.”

“I’ll kill you first,” you whisper.

“Now who ever said anything about killing?” The voice cackles. “I thought we were just having a conversation! No need to get all intense about this.”

“Shut up!” You slam open your bedroom door. “I know who you are!”

“You do?” He’s taunting you. Your hands are shaking, and it’s not all fear anymore. “Well don’t keep me in suspense, sweetheart! Tell me who I am.”

Your closet doesn’t even have clothes in it yet. You close the door and sink to the floor. The painted wood is cool against your forehead.

“Ghostface.” That’s all you need to say.

The other end is silent. When did you stop breathing? You’re used to holding it. You’re used to making yourself exhale and inhale without a sound.

“Now how about that?” He says. “You do know who I am.”

On the floor, a glint of light. You dropped the knife at some point. There’s wet on your fingers, you look at your hand and for a moment, it's all red.

“I’m a little bit surprised, Sidney.” Again, that name. “I never took you for the true crime type. It’s got so many bad memories attached to it. But I guess we all start somewhere, don’t we?”

Your stomach twists. You grit your teeth.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you need to do more homework, baby girl. Better get on it quick, before classes start. You wouldn’t want to get left behind by all your new friends, would you?”

You don’t answer that. You let your eyes close, choose to breathe and think for one second, two, three, four.

“You’re not in my apartment, are you,” you say, voice flat.

“Would you like me to be?” He purrs.

Turning around on the floor, pushing the knife away, you lean your back against the door.

“Do you want to know what I’d do,” he says, “If I were in that place alone with you?”

There’s no good answer for that, is there.

“You’re going to tell me even if I say no.”

“That’s my Sidney,” he whispers. “So fucking smart, Sidney. Once you know how the game works, you know just what to do to win it. But all games rely on a little luck to win. I’m sure you know how the quote goes.”

The wolf only needs to be lucky once. Yeah, you know that one.

“Every game is a little bit different, sweetie,” he says. “Nobody ever gets the same cards twice. So, I don’t really know what I’m gonna do, when I’m alone with you. But I promise you, baby. I promise you, you’re gonna hate it even more than the last time.”

You close your eyes.

“Which. One. Are. You?”

He breathes on the other end of the phone.

“Your first.”

Nausea rolls over you, it takes a moment to process what he said.

“Now the next time I see you,” he says, “we’re gonna play that little game you know I love. I’ve changed it up since the last time we played. It’s like brand new. I promise you won’t get bored.”

Your hand covers your mouth. A name surfaces in your mind, you struggle to grasp it, but the voice drives everything out of your head.

“It’s gonna be so fun, it’ll be killer!” The laughter stabs your ear drums. You pull the phone away from your ear and look at the screen just as the other hangs up.

It takes all your strength not to throw the phone into the wall.

“Fuck!” You pull your knees up to your body best you can and bury your fingers in your hair. Now you feel them, hot tears streaming down your face, burning your skin. You don’t fight them. You let the alien emotions sink into your bones.

This is not a familiar pain. This is not a familiar rage. It is yours, uniquely yours, in every way. You grind your teeth as the sobs shake your body, and in this moment, you embrace it. That hatred that chased you down from the town of your childhood all the way to this miserable little city in the sun.

It pisses you off, that you’re not the only Ghostface in town. That’s what you tell yourself hours later, after you calmed down. It scares you, that another one might be onto you. That’s why you felt so sick when he said ‘your first’. You thought he said ‘you first’. That’s what you tell yourself.

By the time the morning sun hits your windows, you even think you believe it.

#coffee writes slasher fic #ghostface x reader #polyghostface x reader #billy loomis x y/n #billy loomis x you #billy loomis x reader #stu matcher x reader #stu macher x y/n #stu macher x you #scream x yn #scream x you #scream x reader #my dearest adversaries

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goddessalthena · 10 months

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So...

It often bothers me how basically all of the Senshi each have their own specific strengths/talents, but Usagi is generally portrayed as the 'walking disaster with the heart of gold' (or silver, if you will 😉). Other than being a shoe-in for Captain of the Ultimate Frisbee Team, her characterization offers precious little in the way of aptitude or ambition. While I think it's charming that this sweet 14-16 year old dreams of little more than marrying her Mamo-chan one day, I would personally love to have a little more to chew on.

(Disclaimer: This may just be my ongoing frustration with her dichotomous portrayal of 'comic relief/messiah' talking.)

Anyhoo, I was reading a fic the other day where Usagi tried to cook something and it was an unmitigated disaster--to absolutely no one's surprise--and I found myself sighing. Then I thought about it, and I figured Usagi might actually be a pretty decent cook. She has a well documented love of food, she surprised everyone in the curry episode in R, and given enough time and a few lessons from Makoto over the years, I think Usagi actually turns out to be a really good cook. Like, 'give Mako a run for her money' kind of good.

The only caveat being that she makes a ridiculous mess every time she's in the kitchen.

To sweeten this downside, I reckon that Mamoru isn't a very good cook. He's taken care of himself all these years, but he's always stuck to the most basic dishes because anything more complicated inevitably winds up in the trash can. But he is super tidy.

This makes them the perfect kitchen team! Usagi whips up a delicious (chaotic) meal, and Mamoru follows swift on her heels, tidying up behind her. There's a goodly amount of heated bickering at first (followed by passionate reconciliation), but they find a nice rhythm over time*.

House Rule: No one else is allowed in the kitchen during holidays/dinner parties. 😬 (They let Mako in once, but the look of absolute horror on her face earned her an instant perma-ban.)

I like this contrast/compliment between their characters. I'm always game for ways to make Mamoru look a little less 'perfect' and Usagi a little more capable. It helps to close that perception gap between them.

Still, I don't think Usagi cooks every day because she's either too lazy and/or Mamoru's too tired to clean up. So they eat their fair share of takeout. 😘

*Sometimes they still bicker just so they can make up, but that's just their thing. Who can blame 'em?

#sailor moon #headcanon #Usagi the cook #But maybe not the baker #bc baking is a science #and Usagi is chaos incarnate in the kitchen #they let Mako-chan bring the cake #goddessalthena

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rahleeyah · 1 year

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So I read a lot of fic lol and one of the things I find so funny is that authors either write that Liv still can’t cook a thing and still gets takeout for everything or they’ll say she had to learn for Noah’s sake and now she’s actually a decent cook. (And as someone who now lives alone and had to grow up and figure some shit out and has actually gotten pretty good at cooking now if I do say so myself it really isn’t that hard so I’m usually team liv figured out how to use her kitchen for Noah’s sake)

Anyways I always have this head canon (that I’ve never wrote out but maybe I should) that when liv got Noah she got a phone call from Nick’s abuelita who was like “my Nicky tells me you have a baby and you cannot cook anything” 😂 and then Liv goes to her house and learns how to cook. And probably Barba’s mom and Mrs. Carisi teach her some things too cuz I want to believe they shared more time together than could be shown on screen.

Anyways I’m thinking about this mainly because there’s been some fics from Mrs. McCann’s POV and obvs she’s an excellent cook. And that’s not to say liv doesn’t get takeout often I’m sure she still does but I mean she’s also an adult with a child I’m sure she learned how to make some meals😂

You mention food a lot regarding svu and how it was nice in 1.0 when the characters sat down to meals together and how it made them very human which I totally agree with so I was wondering if u had any thoughts?

Have a great day!! Happy L&O Thursday!! ❤️

I love this so much thank you friend!!

So the thing is like. 1.0 Liv doesn't ever cook, it's established there's no food in her fridge, she's always getting delivery. There's a scene early in s13-14 where she is actively trying to cook at home when Nick brings her bad news and she throws her half cooked dinner in the sink, as if she no longer has the strength to keep trying (or as if she no longer thinks she deserves it, but that's another post). By s15 she is throwing dinner parties, of the manic kind (@calliopecantaloupes being of course the expert on the trauma response dinner parties). When Noah is going thru his particularly unbearable phase we see Olivia actually making dinner for him and trying to get him to eat his vegetables.

So my theory is that Liv always knew how to cook in theory, but never spent the time on it in practice. When you're just cooking for one delivery is so fucking easy, and she's barely ever home, why bother? I live alone and I love to cook and I'm pretty good at it and I know a lot about it and I cook once a week on Sundays and heat up leftovers or order in every other night of the week. It's not lack of knowledge that held her back, it was lack of need. She just didn't have to.

Now we know Cassidy cooks, at least a little, and cooking with someone is a special kind of intimacy, and I like to think he taught her some recipes. But then he's gone. But then she has a baby.

And Olivia is devoted to being a Good Mom. She sings to Noah she's working with him on his speech she's buying him all the little toys and outfits and trying so fucking hard. I absolutely think Liv started to cook more - not learn to, bc she already knew how, but started to actually do it - bc she had a child and feeding her child is important emotionally and practically.

But she took the boy to get shake shack this season, she is not above a return to her old ways lol

But I love your thought bc I love the idea of all these older women who are tangentially connected to Liv - Nick's mom even looks after Noah! - taking her under their wing and I love the idea of Noah growing up in this rich and varied quasi family with influences from multiple cultures/traditions, not being any one thing but being deeply loved.

But I do think Elliot can't really cook (beyond one or two set meals like spaghetti or whatever) and if I see one more fic that treats cacio e pepe like it's a fancy complex dish that Elliot "learned" how to cook while he was in Italy I am going to start biting people

#anonymous #e.o asks #s.vu

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wonderlandleighleigh · 2 years

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Song Prompt:

Emails I Can’t Send by Sabrina Carpenter

Esther & Joel

(I had never heard this song before, but damn)

She has lunch with friends in Chinatown, and orders some extra Kung Pao shrimp, splitting off to hit the Button Club to drop it off for her father.

It's 1976, Esther Maisel is eighteen, and trying. She's been accepted to NYU for undergrad, and she figures now that she is a full-blown adult, she should try to have a good relationship with her biological father.

They haven't been close in a long time. Since her mother remarried, Joel Maisel has made himself scarcer and scarcer. Esther and her brother Ethan technically have an entire second family, consisting of biological father, step-mother and half sister, but they just...aren't around as much as they were when Esther was small.

And that's okay. Time and life and all of that.

But she's trying.

The door to the club is unlocked, which is a little strange for the middle of the day, but she slips in, takeout carton in hand and hops down the stairs in her cute jeans and her cute top, and when she rounds the corner into the club, she finds the lights on, and her father, bare-assed with a woman who looks like her mama, but fifteen years younger, pressed against the bar.

Esther has never had sex before. Or seen sex before.

"So I brought you lunch," she blurts out without meaning to.

It startles both of them and suddenly they're cursing and scrambling to get dressed behind the bar.

"Esther, what the fuck?"

"I mean. I think that should be my line," she says, and even though her voice his steady, she finds her hands shaking. "Anyways. Here." She sets the carton on a nearby table and then rushes back up the stairs.

Her father calls after her, but she doesn't stop. "Esther! Fuck. Esther!"

She doesn't stop for breath until she home.

*****

"I don't think she even went to sleep last night," her step-father's voice says softly from the kitchen. "She wouldn't tell me what was wrong, but something's wrong."

Her mother nods and steps out of the kitchen and into the living room. They moved here to this big, beautiful brownstone a handful of years ago, needing more space for everyone, especially with Ethan living at home after coming back from Vietnam.

It's nice.

Esther misses the old apartment. Cramped, but fun.

Her mother sits down and opens her arms up to her, and Esther finds herself curling in against her like she did when she was small.

"You want to tell me?" Midge asks gently, stroking her hair.

"It's Dad," Esther says simply. "I-" she stops. "I don't know."

"Did he say something mean?" Midge asks. "You know, sometimes he just talks without thinking. He doesn't really mean-"

"I stopped by the club because I got him lunch," Esther says. "You remember? I went out with Rivka and June for lunch?"

"I do."

"And I got Dad's favorite and I thought I'd drop by the club and give it to him, because it was a Saturday and he's always there early."

"Okay..."

"And he was- there was a-" Esther stops and swallows, looking up at her mother. "You know what? It's okay. I'm okay."

Midge stares at her for a long moment. "You know you can tell me anything."

Not this.

"I know."

"When you're ready."

"I know."

*****

They host family dinners these days, with how big the brownstone is, and in the summer, it's nice to eat out in the backyard amongst Lenny's garden. When they first moved in, he planted rose bushes at her request, and they come back every year, big and blood red and beautiful. Perfect for her mother to decorate the house with.

Esther likes to tease him about old people hobbies, and he's more than game to take it, fully admitting he's of an age where he likes his old people hobbies.

"It's either gardening or being weird around your friends," he tells her jokingly, and she laughs, swatting him with her sunhat.

It's been a long time since it's been the whole family at dinner. Ethan helps with the cooking and Esther sets the table, excited to see Xiulan and Kitty, but dreading seeing her father.

She sits at the far end from him, between her mother and step-father, feeling oddly safe with one stable parent on either side.

"Esther, you start NYU in the fall, don't you?" Papa Abe asks, looking happy for her.

She nods as she picks at her food. "For pre-law."

"A lawyer in the family," Zeyde Moishe crows. "How about that?"

"We're all very proud," Lenny grins, nudging Esther gently. "We got a successful entertainment manager, a hardworking social worker, and now a lawyer."

"She's not your kid, Lenny," Joel says, causing the table to go quiet.

Lenny shrugs it off easily. Esther wonders how he's been able to do that for all these years.

"Well, maybe not in name, but-"

"Maybe I'll change my name," Esther pipes up, causing her mother to look at her, a little stunned. "Esther Bruce, attorney-at-law sounds pretty good."

Kitty laughs nervously. "Good joke, Es."

"No, really," Esther says. "Why would I want to be associated with a cheater?"

"Esther," her mother says softly. "Esther, what is going on?"

"That was a very long time ago, Esther," Bubbe Shirley says. "Your father has changed."

"Sure," Esther snaps, staring at her father. "Sure he has." she gets to her feet and heads for the door back into the house. "I'm getting more water. Who wants more water?"

"Me," Xiulan says, looking bewildered.

Ethan hops to his feet, following her. "Lemme help."

They step inside and Ethan slides the door closed behind them, following her into the kitchen as Esther starts filling a large pitcher with ice and water.

"So?" Ethan asks, leaning against the doorframe.

"I bought Dad lunch the other day," Esther tells him. "And found him fucking some lady half his age who looks like Mama."

"Ah," Ethan nods slowly. "You met Allana."

"Met is a strong work in this instance. Saw naked, yes. Said hello? Not exactly. How did you know?"

"Pop's not exactly subtle," Ethan admits. "Nor is he unpredictable. Also, he tells me things I really don't want to know."

"Does Mei know?" Esther asks.

"I think so," Ethan says. "He's doin' that thing where he promises to leave Mei and then stays but keeps fucking Allana. Mei's not dumb."

"But Mama was?"

"Mama was really young, and only like eight months removed from giving birth to you," Ethan shrugs. "She was twenty-five, and her hormones were just starting to go back to normal when that stuff happened. Mei is like forty-something now. She knows better, and she knows Pop."

"So we're just supposed to..."

"Stay out of it," Ethan tells her. "Not for Pop. Not for Mei, but for you. For your sanity. Just like we stay out it when Lenny's struggling with the drug stuff. We stay out of it."

"Men or garbage."

"Yeah," Ethan agrees.

"I hope I have a lesbian awakening really soon," Esther says as she thrusts the pitcher of water at him. "I'll be in my room. Just- tell everyone I have a headache and I'll be down later."

"Yeah," Ethan agrees again.

She climbs the stairs to her room, and shuts the door.

#fic #au #tmmm #Esther Maisel #and her wacky ass family #and Joel #oh Joel why Joel

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