#measuring cup I use to water them

[mysicklove]

summary: Yuuji finds himself sick, and it gives him a perfect opportunity to spend time with his older brother.

wc: 1.8k

a/n: its back friends. all i think about is them.

big brother au masterlist

Yuuji lets out a mucus-filled cough and Sukuna cringes. The toddler turns to him and sniffles with a frown on his face. The elder, in return, rolls his eyes but readjusts the cool rag on his brother's forehead. "Don't look at me like that. Whose fault is this? If you do stupid things, you have to pay the consequences, little pest."

The boy doesn't move; instead, he just stubbornly shakes his head. "W-Wanted to play!"

"In the rain? Without any warm clothes? You truly are an idiot," Sukuna scolds, grabbing Yuuji's water bottle from the nightstand and forcing it into the little boy's mouth. 

Yuuji developed a fever this morning after sneaking out into the backyard last night to play in the rain puddles. Now he was stuck in bed, which was hard for the toddler who was always on the go and harder for Sukuna, who has to pretend that he isn't worried sick. 

You walk into the boy's room, and Yuuji immediately looks towards you. He tears the sippy cup from his mouth and lets out a high-pitched whine, already beginning to reach his arms toward you. He knows youll coddle him, unlike his brother, and the exhausted boy was craving attention. When you make it over the bed, he reaches his hands upward to you and pleads, "Up! Up!"

You frown at the boy, already reaching down to scoop him up, but Sukuna quickly intervenes, gently slapping your hand away. "No. He might get you sick too. Brat, you stay in bed."

The toddler opens his mouth to protest, but another cough cuts him off. Then, with watery eyes, he turns to Sukuna and nods. "Yes, b-brother."

You coo at the boy, using your palm to cup his warm cheek and thumb at the soft skin. Yuuji rests his entire head on the touch, and you frown. "Poor baby," You sigh, and Yuuji, ever the one to love being doted on, nods pitifully, adding an extra sniffle for effect. Sukuna almost rolls his eyes at the action.

"Why don't you coddle me like that when I am sick?" Sukuna complains before reaching over and pulling the blanket higher up Yuuji's chest. The boy mumbles out a thank you, but the elder ignores him.

"You whine too much, act like you are dying. Yuuji isn't being dramatic, huh Yuuji?" The boy nods, gripping your arm and rubbing his face into your hand.

"No," he mumbles, "Not being dramatic!" He lets out a loud whine, and Sukuna already knows what's coming. "Feel so bad. Hurts!"

The boy seems to curl around your arm, and Sukuna sighs. "Yeah. Not dramatic at all." The kid sounds exactly like Sukuna when he is sick. Just minutes before, he proclaimed to Sukuna that he wanted to play again, even if he was still immensely ill. He just wanted attention, and it was obvious to everyone but you.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, Yuuji. I brought you some medicine that will make you feel better." The boy's face drops at the word, and he hesitantly lets go of your arm. Sukuna barks a laugh at Yuuji's now twisted face. 

The toddler shakes his head gently, too tired to show his real disapproval. "N-No! No medicine!" It always tasted horrible to the toddler, and he knows that if he whines enough, he may be able to get his way.

Sukuna sighs, holding out his hand to you, and you drop the bottle into it. Then, he pours a copious amount of the pink strawberry-flavored liquid, made specifically for children, into the small measuring cup. 

Yuuji starts to scoot backward on the bed, trying to create some distance between the two. The elder does not let him go far – he grabs Yuuji's hand and places the small cup into it. "Now drink it, or I'm forcing it down your throat."

The boy gulps, glancing at you, who gives him an encouraging nod. Then he places it to his lips but pauses. "Go on," Sukuna demands.

"I want a treat after!" 

Sukunas barks a malicious laugh, and you raise your eyebrows at the boy. You have never heard him try to negotiate before. "Bullshit. Your "treat" is not to be stuck in bed, weakling."

You narrow your eyes at him when you hear the curse word, but Sukuna shrugs it off. Yuuji, on the other hand, eyes widen, and he shakes his head. "Bad word!" He then turns to you in confirmation, pointing at his brother. "He said a bad word!"

You nod your head at him, trying to hide a smile. You were glad that your lessons of not saying curse words stuck with the boy, even with his brother's foul mouth. "Yes, he did. Sukuna, now you definitely owe him a treat afterward."

Sukuna glares at you, but you are used to it, so you instead just flash him a grin. You have told him a multitude of times how you feel about him saying curse words in front of the kid. You didn't want him to grow up so similarly to Sukuna; as much as you love the man, his dirty mouth is not something you hope Yuuji will inherit. 

Sukuna turns his attention back to his brother. "You little–"

"Please, Kuna?" Yuuji pleads, letting out another cough that makes him nervous. He rubs at his temple.

"Fine. Whatever. Just drink it, you manipulative brat." Yuujis eyes lighten up, and he brings the artificially smelling liquid to his mouth, cringing but drinking the entire thing. When he pulls away, his face is contorted in disgust, and he looks toward you. You run your fingers through his hair and praise the small boy, grabbing the small cup from his hands. 

Sukuna curtly nods his head. "Good. Well, sorry to burst your bubble, brat, but we are out of chocolate. No treat for you," He fake pouts at the boy, but Yuuji, in turn, just shakes his head with a small smile.

"Not what I want."

Sukuna raises his eyebrow, thinking for a second, before sighing. "We are out of popsicles too."

"Not that either!" Yuuji shakes his head with this one, and you cock your head to the side in confusion.

Sukuna borderline growls at the boy. "We are not watching Human Earthworm 2. Last time you nearly pissed yourself from how afraid you were." You laugh at the memory, remembering how much Yuuji pleaded to watch it for days, only to have it be turned off twenty minutes into the movie. The poor boy would make Sukuna walk him to the bathroom at night because he was so afraid of being alone in the dark.

Yuuji pouts at him, and another small cough it let out. You grab him some more water, and the boy mumbles a thank you before turning back to his brother. "I wasn't scared! And no, not that either!"

Sukuna pinches the bridge of his nose, trying not to lose his temper. "What do you want then?"

The smile on Yuuji's face returns, even with the pinkened cheeks and the little bits of sweat on his temples. "Want Kuna to cuddle me!"

Your eyes widen, and you can't stop the laugh that leaves your mouth. Sukuna, on the other hand, goes silent for a long moment. "Not happening. Pick something else."

Yuuji whines out, shaking his head stubbornly. "Nooooo. You said I get a treat!"

"You are going to get me sick."

The boy sniffles at him, shaking his head. "Th-Thought brother was the strongest…"

This makes you grin, knowing your lover's ego well. And just like you thought, Sukuna lets out a dramatically large sigh. "Fucking–Fine. Whatever. Scoot over." You and Yuuji both let the curse word slide, being shocked at him actually agreeing.

Yuuji slides over, and Sukuna forces his way under the blankets beside the boy. You sit and watch as Yuuji basically scampers up Sukuna's chest until his head is placed in the elder's neck and his entire body is on top of the man. "Okay, really?" Sukuna grumbles, and you chuckle at him. "Are you some sort of spider monkey now?"

The boy hums in agreement, pressing himself impossibly closer to his brother. You take this time to stand up from the bed, having no room to fit you both. Sukuna watches you begin to leave and frowns at you. "Where are you going?"

This was a perfect time to give them some bonding time. So you shrug, "I'll be right back."

"You better be," Sukuna grumbles and Yuuji coincidentally sneezes into his neck. The man's whole body jerks, and he cringes. "Hey! None of that, that's disgusting!"

Yuuji whimpers, wrapping his arms tighter around his brother as if he was afraid to leave. Then he whispers an apology, and Sukuna rolls his eyes again.

You grab the door to the handle and step outside. "Well, have fun you two. Yuuji, feel better!"

Yuujis cranes his neck to look at you and waves back to you with a small smile, content in his position. Sukuna, on the other hand, glares at you. "Dont you dare leave me here with this brat."

You huff a laugh, ignoring him and already planning what movie you will watch by yourself. "Love you!"

"Hey!" He yells when you shut the door on him.

And, of course, luck is not always on Sukuna's side. When you come to check on them two hours later, you find them both passed out – Yuuji practically smothers Sukuna with his tiny body, drooling on the elder's face. You leave them like that, not thinking much of it.

But three days go by, and somehow Sukuna finds himself stuck in bed with a fever. He never dared to mention that Yuuji probably got him sick, his pride getting the better of him. 

You and the kid walk into your shared bedroom, Yuuji with a massive smile, finally feeling better, and you with a content grin. Sukuna slowly peers over to the door and groans out loud and dramatic. 

"Dont worry, Kuna! Dr. Yuuji is here to take care of you!" He cheers, grabbing his toy stethoscope and shuffling over to the bed. He manages to climb onto the bed with his brother without much trouble, and you follow him, sitting on the bed next to your lover. Like you did with Yuuji, you ran your fingers through his hair, trying to comfort him.

Sukuna peers at you, eyes slightly lighting up and a familiar grin pulling at his face. You already know something inappropriate is about to leave his mouth.

"I would feel so much better if you were in a nurse costume right now." But before you could try to reply, Yuuji shuts him up by shoving a toy thermometer into his mouth.

#mello.writes #big brother au #sukuna x reader #kid yuuji #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #yuuji fluff #yuuji tadori fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #reader insert #x reader #gn reader #gn! reader

[cupid-styles]

renaissance (art teacher!yn x single dadrry)

in which y/n is harry's son's art teacher and he develops a big dumb crush on her. or: kids art teacher!yn x single dad!harry

word count: 6.5k

content warnings: none, just kids! some mentions of different types of familial relationships/dynamics (death of a parent)

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

"Alright, kiddos, let's clean up our big, beautiful messes!" 

Y/N claps her hands three times to signify that class is slowly crawling to an end. Her hour-and-a-half art course for kindergarteners is one of the longest and, if she's being honest, labor intensive classes that she teaches. It's set at the end of the school day from 2:30 pm to 4 pm, designed specifically for parents that work late or need to place for their little ones to go after school is over. Most of her students' parents are single and working full-time, or have intense careers like nursing or... whatever it is they do. 

Y/N weaves her way through the small smattering of children ambling over to the sinks. She watches to make sure they're having an okay time with washing out their paint cups and rinsing their brushes, followed by using the correct amount of hand soap to scrub paint stains away.

(That one almost always requires extra help — to this day, she tries not to get frustrated when she thinks about Johnathan dumping an entire bottle of Dawn soap all over his clothes because he had a tiny bit of yellow marker on his tee-shirt. It was the price she paid to teach kids, though.) 

"Clementine, do you need a little help?" she asks, peeking over to one of her quieter students. With fluttering lashes and a slightly baffled look on her face (Y/N could always tell when she was getting stressed out by the way her little eyebrows wrinkled together), Clementine nods, and Y/N makes quick work to appear behind her. She gets down to her level, where her Mary Jane-clad feet are resting atop a stool to help her reach the sink. "What's going on, lovebug?"

"'s everywhere," Clementine whines lightly, her bottom lip forming a sad pout. "Paint all over my hands!"

"I see that, sweetheart! But you know what?" Y/N makes a show of pretending to look side to side to ensure no one else can hear her. "It's okay if we get a little messy sometimes. The cool thing about everything we play with in this class is that it's colorful and pretty, and if it gets on our clothes or our bodies, it can get washed away."

Clementine considers this for a moment. Her hands are still stuck under the lukewarm stream of water, where the caked on hues of bright pink and orange are slowly starting to fade away. "What about on my art?" she asks slowly. "Will that get washed away?"

"Nope," Y/N shakes her head. "That stays forever. But on your clothes and body? It doesn't stand a chance."

"Oh. Okay."

And just like that, Clementine's minor stressed out moment floats away. Y/N smiles to herself as she pours a bit of soap into her small hands and helps her scrub them together, the lingering paint forming a pretty swirl down the drain. 

"There you go, lovebug," she murmurs as she stands back up, giving her head a light pat, "Don't forget to grab your painting when mommy picks you up, okay?"

Clementine nods and scampers away to her table. She chuckles, placing her hands on her hips as she takes stock of the kids. She has about 10 minutes until it's officially time for dismissal, and most parents are good about picking them up right at 4 pm. She thinks about playing a game with them to keep them occupied, until she sees it. 

Riley Styles. With globs of red paint in his curly, brown hair. 

"Oh my god," Y/N mumbles to herself, rushing over to Riley's table, "Riley! Can I ask what happened here?"

She tries to keep her voice at a measured, not-freaked-out level, but it's kind of impossible given the child standing before her is dripping with paint. 

"My cousin has red hair." Riley answers simply before shrugging his shoulders. "I think she uses paint, too."

"Ohhhh, I see," Y/N replies, pressing a gentle hand to his back, "Well, Riley, I think it would be best to clean this up. It look like it feels a little messy and icky." 

Her stomach is bubbling with anxiety as she glances up at the clock. There's now eight minutes to dismissal time, and Riley's dad is never late. 

"But you told Clementine that messes are okay—"

"Messes are always okay!" Y/N exclaims in an embarrassingly high-pitched voice, "Um, why don't you come with me to the bathroom, Riley?" 

She doesn't give him an opportunity to reply before she's looping his hand with his and making quick steps to the faculty bathroom. Realizing she's just left 15 kindergartens in a room unsupervised with a plethora of art supplies, she peeks into Lea's classroom. 

"Lea! Hey, um, Riley and I need to go to the bathroom to clean up a little mess! Can you keep an eye on my kids?" 

Lea, who already has her jacket zipped up and looks like she's about to walk out to her car, furrows her eyebrows. Her eyes widen when Y/N backs up slightly to give her a view of Riley, who has been trailing red paint with every step they take. 

"Oh my god!" she all but squeals, and Y/N's jaw clenches, "Yeah! Sure! No problem! Good luck with that mess, Riley!"

Y/N resists the urge to roll her eyes at her friend as they finally make it to the bathroom. She glances down at her watch, which tells her that took a whopping three minutes of their time. Swallowing tightly, she tries to figure out the best plan of attack, ultimately deciding that it would be best if she just attempted to wash his hair with soap and water while he stood there. 

"Alright, Riley, can you try and stand still for me?" she asks, already pumping an absurd amount of hand soap into her hand, "I'm going to try to help get this mess out of your hair. Don't you miss those pretty curls you have?"

He shrugs as she begins to lather the soap between her hands. "I thought my cousin's hair was pretty."

"I'm sure!" she replies, massaging the foamy liquid into his hair. She's never been so thankful for washable paint before as the tints of red that latched onto his strands begin to wash away. "She probably didn't use paint though, and it's important that we keep the paint on our projects instead of our hair."

"Messes are okay, though. You said it."

She grimaces. Why do kids remember everything?

"You're right, messes are totally fine! But those are accidental messes. It's alright if we get it on our shirts or hands, but paint doesn't go in our hair. Does that make sense?"

His hair is completely saturated with hand soap now. She doesn't have a better way to wash it out (other than dunking the poor kid's head in the sink, which definitely feels unethical), so she's simply getting her hands wet and washing out section by section. It's going moderately well, especially since Riley's hair is on the shorter side, until the bathroom door bursts open, followed by angry footsteps.

"Riley!" 

Y/N turns, her mouth forming an embarrassed o-shape when her eyes make contact with a seething Mr. Styles. 

"Daddy!" Riley exclaims, rushing over to his dad. He latches his arms around his leg, giving them a squeeze, and getting the watered down red paint everywhere in his wake. Y/N winces. 

"What are you doing alone with my son in a faculty bathroom?" He demands, jabbing his finger in Y/N's direction. 

"I'm so sorry! H-he put red paint in his hair and I needed to wash it out, this was the only place I could do it since the kids' bathrooms aren't big enough—"

"And you didn't think to take another faculty member with you?" He spits angrily. Riley's now running around in circles, shaking his hair out like a dog. "How do I know you weren't doing anything—"

"I would never do anything inappropriate and you know that, Mr. Styles," Y/N cuts him off, feeling rage bubble up in her chest, "You've been sending Riley here for two years and this is the first time anything has ever happened. Until now, both you and him have only ever been happy with your experience here."

Mr. Styles clamps his jaw shut, his gaze falling to Riley, who's now pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back. 

"It's washable, then?" he asks through a clenched jaw. "The paint?"

Y/N swallows, then nods once. "Yes. Everything we use is washable and water-soluble. It was coming out fine before."

He straightens his posture and runs his tongue over his two, slightly overlapped front teeth. "Okay. Riley, come on, we have to head home now."

Mr. Styles stretches out his hand and Riley takes it happily, his smaller one clutching his dad's fingers. The sight makes Y/N's stomach squeeze, but she quickly diverts her gaze and clears her throat. 

"I can grab his backpack and jacket," she says, boots clicking against the tiled floors as she walks out of the bathroom. Her face is warm and she feels tears lining her eyes, but she refuses to let herself cry in front of a parent. What she said to Mr. Styles — it's true. She's been working at the studio for five years and nothing has ever happened. She supposes a fuck up was overdue, especially since she works with kids, but it doesn't lessen the sting any.

She's surprised when she hears footsteps behind her, realizing that they're following her. She swallows the lump of tears in her throat and flashes Lea a small, forced smile when she returns to her classroom. The rest of the kids are gone already, their belongings and paintings with them. 

Y/N walks over to the cubbies, where Riley has his jacket and backpack hooked. Gently, she removes them, and turns to hand them to Mr. Styles.

"Again, I apologize for today. I was helping another student clean up and I must have missed this entirely," she says, trying her best to keep an even tone. 

Mr. Styles nods awkwardly, taking Riley's stuff into the crook of his arm. "I, um, apologize for insinuating that you'd do anything... unsavory. I know you wouldn't. I just panicked."

"I understand completely." she replies, and she means it genuinely. 

"Daddy?"

They both look down to see Riley tugging at his dad's pant leg. 

"What does usavory mean?" 

Mr. Styles and Y/N's heads both snap back up, eyes wide as they stare at each other.

"...Nothing," he says with a small smile, making Y/N's own lips curl into a grin, "I got you dino nuggets for dinner. Doesn't that sound yummy?"

Mr. Styles waves goodbye to her as he pulls Riley out of the classroom, chanting dino nuggets! dino nuggets! on his way out.

. . .

When Riley doesn't show up for class the following week, Y/N sincerely contemplates poking her eyes out with paintbrushes. 

She feels stupidly embarrassed. It took her two full days to move on from the whole red-paint-in-the-hair thing, in which she replayed every single moment of Mr. Styles staring her down like he wanted to pummel her across the city. And while she thinks things ended on a relatively decent note, she wonders if he was just being polite and now he was pulling Riley out of her afterschool art classes. 

She's never had a parent unenroll their kid for reasons that weren't out of her control. Moving? Sure. Wanting to try a new activity? Understandable. Parents wanting to spend more time with their child? Y/N wouldn't dream of getting upset over that. But Mr. Styles, who always showed up at 4 pm on the dot in his neatly pressed slacks and crisp button downs to retrieve Riley from class? 

She didn't know much about him. Unlike other parents, Mr. Styles didn't care much for idle chatter or small talk. For most of her students, she knew at least something about their personal lives or home dynamics — Reese's mom was a pediatric nurse, Tyler had a twin sister who preferred playing soccer after school, and Sabrina's dad passed away when she was a baby, so she lived with her grandparents and mom. 

Anything she put together about Riley's home life was from pure speculation: His mom never picked him up, so she wasn't sure she was in the picture. (She doesn't think Mr. Styles is married, either, considering he doesn't wear a wedding ring, but that's neither here nor there.) He alway showed up to the art studio in professional work clothes, which led Y/N to assume he came straight from wherever he worked. Riley never spoke about having any siblings, so she thinks he's an only child.

And that's about it. 

She spends the entirety of class holding her breath and mentally preparing for her boss to ask to see her once all the kids were picked up. Nina would probably start out by thanking her for all of her hard work over the past five years, and then before Y/N even realized it was happening, would switch over to her lack of care for Riley and the complaints made on Mr. Styles' behalf. She could envision the words leaving her mouth now: And so, we have no choice but to let you go, Y/N. 

Except... to her surprise, that doesn't happen. Nina doesn't come in after dismissal and she even tells her to drive safe on her way out of the building. There aren't any meetings placed on her schedule in the week that passes by before Y/N's next course with Riley's group, and she's damn near shocked when her students come bustling in seven days later, the curly haired boy included. 

Today, Y/N teaches them about working with oil pastels. She breaks the medium down to a very basic, understandable level for kindergarteners and lets them go wild after her usual 15 minutes of instruction, instructing them to let their creative minds run wild. It's one of her favorite parts of teaching art to kids — they rarely overthink it, instead just allowing whatever flows to come through to the paper. 

Unsurprisingly, oil pastels aren't as messy as paints, so there's less clean-up required than their previous unit. At 4, the parents arrive in quick succession, though when her eyes flit to the clock, she's surprised when Mr. Styles still hasn't picked Riley up by 4:07. 

She doesn't like to bring attention to late parents (she's found that some kids get all knotted up about it, worrying that something happened), so she usually has a few busy activities prepared for this very event. She grabs her folder of coloring pages to bring over to Riley's table, who's busying himself with peeling glue off of the worn, messy table. 

"Okay, Mr. Riley, what are we in the mood to color tonight?" she asks, flipping open the folder, "We have a garden, a firetruck, or a puppy!"

Riley silently contemplates the pictures in front of him and for a moment, Y/N feels like some childhood psychiatrist analyzing his decision. She has nothing to examine, though, beyond the fact that she's hoping he opts for the puppy or firetruck so she can work on the garden as they wait for Mr. Styles. With his small tongue poking out from the side of his mouth, Riley taps his finger decidedly on the puppy.

"This one, pwease."

She smiles and nods, stuffing the firetruck back in the folder and keeping the garden and puppy out. Riley always expressed good manners, and his sweet "pwease" and "tank you"'s always warmed her heart. 

"Sounds like a plan," Y/N pulls the cup of used Crayola crayons so they're within easy access. She buys a new pack every semester because, as she expected from her very first year working here, kids love to destroy crayons, even if they don't always mean it. Even from just a few months of use, the current 64-array is in rough shape. "Do you have a puppy at home?"

Riley shakes his head as he immediately grabs a teal color to color in the fur. "No. I want one, but Daddy says no."

"Puppies are definitely hard to take care of," Y/N nods as she pulls out a light pink for the flowers on her page. "I have a cat. Her name is Biscuit."

"Biscuit?" Riley giggles. Y/N grins. 

"Mhm. She loves to jump up on the kitchen counter and eat whatever food I make," she leans in closer and lowers her voice. "It's pretty naughty, if you ask me."

Riley's giggles erupt into full-fledged laughter. Y/N can't help but chuckle, too, but it's almost immediately cut off when Mr. Styles rushes in, looking frazzled with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. 

"Oh! Daddy's here, Riley," Y/N announces, standing up from the little table. Riley turns around with a grin, excited to see his dad as always. 

"Hey!" Mr. Styles greets loudly, though his tone teeters on nervousness more than excitement. "I'm so sorry I was late. I had to, um... make a stop, and there was a lot of traffic. Rush hour."

Y/N nods understandingly, "That's alright. Riley, do you wanna show Daddy what you made today?"

"Actually, uh, one sec bud— why don't you keep coloring that... blue puppy, huh?" Mr. Styles's eyes peer over the page he's diligently working on, an expression of confusion making Y/N press her lips into a small smile. Completely content, Riley continues on, and Mr. Styles darts his eyes back over to Y/N. "Um, do you have a moment?"

She nods, swallowing harshly. She assumes this is it — the moment when he tells her that he's pulling Riley out of the program because of her unprofessionalism. It kind of hardens the blow a bit more given the massive flowers in his hand, which he assumes are for a girlfriend at home, maybe Riley's step-mom to-be. Or maybe he's trying to work things out with his birth mom. It's none of Y/N's business, but for some reason the thoughts swirl around in her brain, making her feel all the same — anxious, worried, self-conscious, and even a little down.

She leads him to the corner where her desk is so they're able to speak quietly and freely, out of Riley's earshot. Mr. Styles doesn't say anything for a brief minute. He's always been quite kind to her, so she figures he's trying to figure out the nicest way to say, "you're the worst art teacher and I never want my kid to be around you ever again."

"These are for you," he says, stretching his arm out to hand Y/N the flowers. Her eyes go so wide they feel like they could pop out of her head. It takes a second for her brain to compute the words and he looks at her expectedly, waiting for her to accept them. Finally, she does, hand clutching the brown wrapping around the excessive bouquet of stems. (Seriously, there's at least 25 in here.) "I wanted to apologize for last week. Again. It was... so rude of me to say anything even remotely close to that. You've been nothing but a bright light in mine and Riley's lives and I was just having an awful day already, and... kids are kids, they do silly things, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Y/N's eyebrows still feel like they're glued to her hairline. She's beyond surprised. In her years of working with kids, she's had parents say way worse things to her, and she never received an apology for any of it. 

"Oh... Mr. Styles, this is—"

"Harry." he cuts her off, a wrinkle forming between his brows. "You can call me Harry."

She nods slowly, still processing the information. "Harry, this is very kind of you, but so, completely unnecessary. I didn't— I love Riley, he's a great kid, and I was worried you didn't want him to come back when he wasn't here last week."

Harry quickly shakes his head. "No, no. He had the flu. Ever since he started kindergarten, he's been getting sick left and right."

"Oh," Y/N says dumbly, beginning to realize that she worried herself sick for a week over quite literally... nothing. "Oh. That makes a lot more sense."

He chuckles and stuffs his hands into the pocket of his slacks. "Yeah. So, anyway, I hope you accept my apology, and even if you don't, I understand. Just know that I'll have Riley try to dye his hair blue next time or something," he teases, his face instantly falling the second the words leave his mouth. "That was a joke. I'd never do that."

Y/N laughs. "See, and I think pink would fit his complexion better."

Harry grins widely, and she realizes she's never noticed the cute little dimple that pops out of his cheek when he does.

She secretly hopes she gets to make it happen again sometime soon.

. . .

"How was Riley today?"

Y/N smiles knowingly at Harry as she wipes off one of the empty tables. "You know the answer to that. You don't have to ask."

Harry shrugs, putting his hands up in mock defense. He still has one of the Clorox wipes in his hand, quickly returning to cleaning off the crayon- and paint brushed-filled cups. 

"I just like to make sure he isn't a complete menace, that's all."

"He's never a menace," Y/N replies, tossing the wipe in the garbage, "He's always very well behaved and well mannered. Kind of wondering if you built him up in a lab."

Harry chuckles. "Nope. Not quite how those things work."

Y/N's cheeks warm so she turns on her heel to glance up at the clock in the front of the classroom. It's edging closer to 4:30, which is about as long as she likes to stay after work. She always makes quick work of cleaning up the floors and tables, de-sanitizing them little kid germs for her 11 am disabled adult class tomorrow morning. 

Ever since she and Harry had that chat with the enormous bouquet of flowers (they're all nearly wilted by now, but Y/N refuses to just throw them out), Harry comes to get Riley a few minutes after 4. By then, Riley's the only kid left, save for one or two on days with bad weather. Y/N will have them set up with their coloring pages and, instead of immediately helping Riley pack his things up to leave, Harry just... sticks around. Riley doesn't mind because he adores the different print-outs he gets to choose from, and Y/N can't help the way her heart hammers in her chest as Harry offers to help her clean up or ask about her day. 

It's been nearly a month of this — once a week, dancing around tiny tables and conversations accompanied by the scent of Clorox — but Y/N secretly hopes that it's because Harry wants to spend time with her. She doesn't see any other reason why he'd do it, but she doesn't want to seem cocky, either. 

"Okay, let's get you two out of here. It's already dark." Y/N announces as she unlocks her small closet in the corner, pulling her coat and bag out. 

"Is it alright if we walk you to your car?" Harry asks. 

She turns around to see Harry helping Riley zip his jacket up. The sight makes her chest tighten. The love he has for his son is so incredibly sweet that it makes her feel crazy some days. 

"Um... sure, if it's not too much," she eventually replies, swallowing harshly, "I'm just a few rows back."

Harry nods and stands up from his place on the floor. He reaches down, a silent request for Riley to fit his smaller hand in his. 

"Ri, what do you say to Ms Y/N for all the cool coloring pages?"

"Tank you!" he exclaims, his free hand in a tight fist, wrinkling today's coloring of a dinosaur.

"You're very welcome, cutie! I love that you made the dinosaur purple today." Y/N says with a grin. She follows them out, but not before turning all the lights off and locking the door. 

"Daddy puts all my pictures on the refrig—refig—refigerator?" 

"Refrigerator," Harry says as they walk down the empty hallway, "But close. Good job, bud."

Riley looks up at his dad with a grin. "Yeah! Daddy puts them all up. He says they're pwetty."

"They are pretty." Y/N nods, agreeing with a smile.

"He says Miss Y/N's pwetty too, and that's why we always stay late now—"

"Ah!" Harry yelps, cutting Riley off with an embarrassed flush. Y/N presses her mouth into a line nervously, trying to hide the excited smile curling at her lips. The conversation ends after that, though Y/N has trouble ignoring the butterflies flapping in her tummy. She clears her throat when they approach her car, her mitten-clad hands pressing the 'unlock' button on her keys.

"This is me," she says, pulling open the passenger's seat door to put her bag in. 

"I'm so sorry," Harry rushes out. "I— that's not why we stay. Well, it is. Well, I mean, I think you're very nice and I like being around you, and I do think you're pretty, however I'm not trying to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I just— I, um. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Y/N replies, this time allowing the smile to flower over her face, "We can always... we don't have to just hang out here. Like, we can get a coffee or something. Not in the company of your very sweet child."

He scoffs playfully, nevertheless pulling his phone out and opening his contacts. Hesitantly, he hands it to Y/N, who pulls off her mitten before accepting it and putting her information in.

"Text me when you wanna get together," she says as she gives it back to him. "Also, for the record. I think you're pwetty, too."

. . .

Harry texts her the following morning: I haven't asked someone out on a date in a long time, so I'm a little rusty... would you want to get dinner with me on Saturday night?

Y/N, who learned the whole wait-10-minutes-before-you-text-back thing back in college, doesn't even let her screen go dark before she messages him to say that Saturday sounds perfect, and he did a great job. 

On Saturday evening, he picks her up at 7 pm on the dot. She's not sure what she was expecting, but she definitely didn't anticipate him getting out of his car on such a dreary, cold evening, ringing her doorbell, and bringing her yet another bouquet of flowers. She tries her best to hide the fact that she's shocked by his presence on her doorstep, her boots clacking against the wood floors of her rental, as she promises him she'll be back in a second once she puts them in some water. 

Gentlemanly as ever, he escorts her to his car, a sleek, black sedan. She's not sure what he does for work and assumes he'll tell her tonight, but it's apparent that he has money — she doesn't think she's seen Riley in the same outfit twice and he's always showing up to pick-up in a stylish suit that may cost Y/N's entire biweekly salary.

They make slightly awkward, first date small talk on the way to the restaurant, which feels silly for both of them considering they know each other outside of this. 

"What did you do today?" Harry asks, and Y/N's not quite sure how to say "I stayed inside all day doing nothing" without sounding like an elderly woman. 

"Um, caught up on some TV. Painted a bit. Nothing too exciting, really. How about you?"

"Riley and I went to a kids science museum. It was fun, he enjoyed it," he replies, tapping his thumbs against the leather of the steering wheel. "Do you do a lot of art outside of work?"

Y/N nods, "Oh, yeah. I went to school for it. I actually wanted to be a museum curator."

"So how'd you end up working with snotty-nosed brats like my kid?" he asks teasingly. Y/N laughs. 

"It was supposed to be a side gig until I found something more permanent, but... I started five years ago and got too attached, I suppose."

Harry hums. "Well, you're great at what you do. I've only seen you work with kids, obviously, but I'm always impressed with you."

Y/N shrugs, trying her best not to seem slightly overwhelmed by his compliment. He had a habit of doing that — making her feel dizzy and melty, all because he looked at her for a beat too long or said something she wasn't expecting. 

"Thank you. It's nothing special, though," she says softly, swallowing tightly, "What do you do? I don't think I've ever asked."

"I'm in finances. It's incredibly boring," he replies almost instantly, as if it's a knee-jerk reaction. "But, um... pays the bills. You know how it goes."

It feels like an add-on, but nonetheless, Y/N nods understandingly. It seems like it does a lot more than pay the bills, but she doesn't question it.

The rest of the drive is on the quieter side. It makes Y/N's stomach bubble with anxiety, wondering if she's being too boring and attempting to come up with talking points that fall flat — every time she thinks of a question, she talks herself out of it, assuming it would sound silly leaving her lips. 

Thankfully, Harry pulls into a parking spot not 10 minutes later. They're in a quaint part of town and, despite the holidays coming and going, the streets are still lit up with pretty snowflake displays. It's on the quieter side, which Y/N also appreciates — considering the fact that she already assumed Harry was fairly wealthy, she had worries that he'd take her somewhere far too fancy. 

He looks slightly dejected for some reason when Y/N gets out of the car, burying her hands in the pockets of her jacket. He hurries over to where she's standing on the sidewalk, locking the car with the key fob.

"You look like you're freezing, I'm so sorry," he mumbles, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. It's an act he wouldn't do under any other circumstance if she wasn't all but shaking. "I should've dropped you off at the restaurant."

Y/N shakes her head, "No, don't be silly. Where are we going, anyway?"

He gives her shoulders a small squeeze as he guides her down the sidewalk. "Well, you mentioned not being able to find a decent sushi place nearby. This has been a favorite of mine for a few years."

She glances up at him, a look of confusion on her face. "I said that?"

"Yes," he chuckles. "A few weeks back."

She knows it's true — she gets a mean sushi craving at least once a week but has yet to dine at a spot that she dubs her go-to. She tries to think back to their conversations over the past month or so, but it's a fruitless effort, especially once he holds the door open for her, his large hand pressed against the small of her back. Immediately, the warmth of the restaurant is a welcomed sensation, but the feeling of his touch feels even more delicious. 

"Reservation for Styles." he says to the hostess, who, without even looking down at the book on the podium, grabs two menus and walks them over to their table. Y/N's thankful that they're placed in a back corner, where she can cozy up and, perhaps slightly unattractively, stuff her face with spicy tuna rolls and sashimi until she can barely breathe.

"This place looks incredible, Harry," Y/N says softly as she looks over the delicate menu. "You come here often?"

She only says it because the prices are on the more expensive side, so it's difficult for her to imagine casually ordering in from here. She glances up to see him shrugging his shoulders lightly, eyes still glued to the menu. 

"Every now and then." he answers vaguely. 

As if on cue, a waiter approaches their table, placing down a bottle of wine. 

"Your usual, Mr. Styles," he says, and Y/N swears she watches Harry's jaw clench, "Shall we do another tasting menu tonight?"

Her eyebrows furrow and a zap of anxiety electrifies her chest. Clearly, he does come here often. Why would he lie to her then? Was this where he took all his first dates? Y/N clears her throat uncomfortably, shifting on her bum as she starts to let her mind spiral. Suddenly, she feels like just another pawn in a man's game.

"Give us a few minutes, please. No tasting menu tonight, we'll be ordering entrees." Harry says curtly. The waiter nods with a smile and leaves them be.

Without thinking much, Y/N leans over the length of the table, the bones of her elbows pressing into the bright red tablecloth. 

"Do you always take girls here?" she demands, a bite to her tone. Harry's head snaps up with wide eyes.

"What? No, why would you—"

"Because you said you come here 'every now and then', but the waitstaff knows your wine order and asked if you wanted a tasting menu again," Y/N replies briskly, blinking at the man in front of her. "You know, I'm not just some girl you can mess around with—"

"Y/N," Harry breathes, shaking his head. "No. No. It's not like that at all. I take my employees here quite frequently and do business dinners here. I'm aware that it's on the expensive side and I just... money is an awkward subject."

"Well, it's even more awkward when you pretend like you don't have any—"

"I wasn't pretending," he mutters, swallowing tightly. "I know you're not like that, but I haven't dated in a long time. Partially because of Riley, but also because people I've been with have only cared about the money. So I just try not to let it be a focal point, especially on the first date. I'm sorry if I didn't do a good job of that."

Y/N's stomach plummets. She feels sick — she hates that she assumed the worst out of him, letting her own dating traumas get in the way of him just trying to protect himself. God, she was the worst first date ever.

"I'm so sorry," Y/N breathes out shakily. "I'm being an asshole."

"You're not." Harry mumbles as he looks down at his lap. "Just... first date jitters, maybe?"

She smiles gently. "Can we start over?" Harry flicks his eyes up at look at her. "I like you, Harry, and I really, really want this to go well."

She watches as his throat bobs, a smile curling at his lips.

"So, Y/N. What is it that you do for work again?"

. . .

Harry feels like he's known Y/N for his entire life. 

When they leave the restaurant (she attempts to put her card down and he can't help but snicker at her before explaining that they already have his on file), her hand curls around his as they walk back to the car. It makes his entire body erupt into flames as their palms press against one another's, intertwining their fingers tightly. Their shoulders bump into each other's with lopsided, goofy smiles on their lips. 

"Tonight was fun." she says as they approach his parked car. He gives her hand a final squeeze before unlocking the doors. 

"It was," Harry echoes her sentiment. They separate briefly to get into the vehicle; Harry immediately turning it on to crank the heat up. "Would you wanna do it again sometime?"

"Yeah. That would be nice." She nods, grinning. "What did Riley get up to this evening?"

He chuckles, "He's with the babysitter for the evening. She's used to my late nights with business dinners."

Y/N hums, peeling her hands out of her jacket pockets now that they're a little less chilly. "So you're not in a hurry to get home, then?"

Harry's chest dings with a bead of nervousness. He swallows and flexes his hands in his lap. 

"Sort of. Riley has swimming lessons in the morning."

It's not a complete lie. Riley does have swimming lessons, but Harry wants to stay out with Y/N more than anything. He's not in any kind of rush — he's just anxious about what she's thinking about proposing after not dating anyone since his son was born.

"Oh, sure," she smiles, and Harry's surprised by the way her face maintains its happy composure. "Well, we can just end the night here if you need to get back. No worries."

That makes Harry feel bad — the fact that she's just so incredibly understanding, even if he's feeding her excuses based on his own insecurities. He clears his throat awkwardly and attempts to shift in his seat to face her. 

"I haven't done this in a long time," Harry blurts out. "And I'm very nervous."

Y/N's face crinkles into an adorable smile. "The date is over, Harry. I thought we established that we had a good time."

"We did!" he rushes, lifting his hand to run it through his hair, "No, we did. I had an incredible time with you. I really like you."

"So what are you nervous about?" she asks softly, reaching out to take his hand into hers.

That.

That's what he's nervous about.

"It's just... it's been awhile since I've liked anyone. Since I've... touched anyone." His throat bobs and his eyebrows shoot up as he realizes the insinuation of his words. "Not like that! Well, yes, like that, but— I meant, not just sexually. Holding hands. Kissing. We don't have to do a single thing anytime soon, but I haven't done this in years."

"You're nervous about physical touch?" Y/N says gently, her voice soft. He nods. "That's fine, Harry. Like you said, we don't have to do anything anytime soon. We can go at your pace, whatever that means."

"I... I want to kiss you, though," he admits in a raspy tone. "I just don't know... how."

Y/N's heart feels like it shatters into a million pieces. With a thumping chest, she leans into his side over the middle console and gently takes his cheek into her palm. His face feels cold from the chilly winter evening and he can't help but press into the warm, comforting feel of her touch. His eyes flutter shut and she smiles, nibbling on her bottom lip as adoration fills every inch of her body. 

"Can I?" she whispers, punctuating her question with a nervous swallow, "You can say no. I just... I'd like to try."

"Please."

She's hesitant in her movements, not wanting to overwhelm him as she slowly inches closer. She tilts her head ever so slightly and presses her lips to his raspberry ones, eyes flittering closed as fireworks explode between their chests. It's perfect — it's slow, and it's leery as both of them try to find a comfortable pace, but of all the first kisses she's ever had, she's positive this is the best one she'll ever experience. 

They sit in Harry's car kissing until Y/N's breathless. Neither of them know how long it's been but eventually, she breaks it apart, panting quietly through spit swollen lips. He keeps his forehead pressed against hers with a dopey smile. 

"'s good," he mumbles, and she mimics his grin, "That was... yeah. It was so good."

She giggles and her tummy feels like it's filled with butterflies and carbonated bubbles and excited tingles. 

"So good." she echoes.

He's surging forward with a grin to reconnect their lips not a moment later, and they're both positive they've never been so content before.

#writing #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x oc #harry styles x y/n #harry styles one direction #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #one direction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one-shot

[divinerapturesys]

Welcome to my Ted Talk about AsPD, or Antisocial Personality Disorder, which the internet likes to coin as sociopath 👌🏻 if you don’t like long infodumps about stigmatized mental disorders from someone who is diagnosed, move on.

Quick toxic rundown: People with AsPD are generally characterized as emotionless, violent, manipulative abusers who kill animals and like to make other people their bitches. The biggest pet peeve we have is the emotionless, sadistic and abusive generalization.

Personally, we are highly neurotic, with highs and lows of: depression, frantic drive, self abuse tactics, chronic fear, lapses of rejection, overwhelming over-analyzation, grey area thinking, false goods and false bads, ultimatums, obsessive compulsive behavior, harsh self demands, and irritability.

AsPD is a disorder that is caused primarily (according to current research) by trauma and abuse in childhood; most notably being emotional neglect and absent caregivers that cause a child to have emotional shutdowns and repression episodes in an attempt to self soothe. Primary caregivers who do not bond with their children are also a factor. Children learn how to behave from those around them. If a primary caregiver is emotionally distant and unavailable, children will learn that is normal behavior and that’s how people are. If a primary caregiver does not provide empathy and sympathy during moments of distress and fear, children will learn that aloofness and disregard of others feelings is normal behavior. If a primary caregiver does not keep a child safe, children will learn that they should not prioritize their own safety or the safety of others. You can find my follow up post regarding this here.

Neglected and abused children often act out trying to get attention and help, often acting out in bad ways because they lack the ability to articulate what they’re feeling and what is happening to them. The pipeline for AsPD typically is: Oppositional Defiance Disorder as a child, Conduct Disorder as a teen, AsPD as an adult. There are a lot of warning signs cueing that AsPD is becoming a risk for development, but often kids do not have a support system to help negate it as it’s their support system that is usually a factor in its creation.

Being AsPD is like being an emotional La Croix 70% of the time. If you’re depressed, then it’s like someone in the other room has depression and is telling you about it. The other 30% of the time, if you’re depressed, your brain doesn’t understand how to handle it so it’s an ultimatum between doing something drastic to remove the Trigger or ignoring and dissociating for days on end.

People with AsPD are very good at ignoring things. Honestly it’s problematic as fuck but it’s not hard to ignore major issues when you just, don’t care. It’s not in the terms of being cruel or making ourselves not care, but the fact that finding the emotional willpower is so far out of our feasible reach we don’t do it. This causes us to piss people off because we don’t have the capacity to care as much as they want us to, even if we can and do to an extent.

Think of it this way: empathy/sympathy is a deep tub of water that everyone has. They can easily fill their measuring cup for the needed amount of empathy without any issues and it’s easy for them. People with AsPD don’t have a tub of water. We have shallow skillet. When we try to dip our cup to fill it, we can’t, it always comes up short and it is difficult to get any water in it as there is no room for the cup to dive. Our ability to care is limited because we do not have the same emotional resources everyone else does.

❌ False Positives & False Negatives ❌

I operate on what I’ve learned are called false positives and false negatives. These are things that are trained into the brain from an early age based off of childhood trauma and other factors. False positives are a distorted version of why we do something to help ourself and for our own good, meanwhile a false negative is something we do because it’s a threat, or based out of fear.

❌ Some of my false positives:

- It is good to be afraid of nothing

- It is good to adapt to someone’s personality if they are stronger than you

- It is good to isolate yourself

- It is good to be a silver tongue because you can get into any place you want

- It is good to become a social chameleon and shape yourself to whatever those around you need/want most, because then you have no chance of being abandoned

❌ Some of my false negatives, which can explain the false positives as well as core beliefs:

- it is bad to be afraid, if I am afraid then I am vulnerable and it can be used against me

- It is bad to be emotional or show concern for others emotions because they do not care for mine

- It is bad to be able to be exploited, because I believe it is everywhere

- It is bad to allow myself to be bored, because boredom begets bad thoughts and no one can or wants to help me when I spiral

- It is bad to not shape yourself to the social circle, because people quickly grow tired of those who do not match them perfectly and being discarded means I failed

My core beliefs can be viewed as the root for the false positives and negatives, because they are based on the core of trauma, abuse and neglect. They come from patterns and instances that make someone with AsPD become the opposite of what they experienced:

- eat or be eaten

- If I don’t show that my bite is worse than my bark, I will be taken advantage of and I must remain on top because the ones on top are safe

- I must look out for myself because nobody will do it for me

- It doesn’t matter what happens to me, therefore it doesn’t matter what people think of me

- If I cannot do something well, then I should not do it at all

- If you are dependent on others for emotional and mental well being, you are weak, therefore I must isolate myself to avoid becoming codependent and a burden and useless

- If I can handle the stress of a situation better than everyone else, therefore I will keep the problem (financial, emotional, mental, etc) to myself to reduce chances of being abandoned due to failure of perfection

People with AsPD are hard to get along with. We often:

- are always anticipating a fight

- lack respect for authority

- ignore social structures to an extent

- tendency to lie if it’ll lessen punishment or if we feel the lie is more acceptable than our actions

- limit social support because it’s wrong to be dependent on others

- have an inflated view of our own importance — which turns into a self ridicule for believing someome like me could be found important to others —

- can be rude and inconsiderate of others feelings somewhat unintentionally

- are unable to read the correct social cues in relation to empathy towards people and animals

- am constantly confused by others dependence upon empathy and inability to make desicions from logic based standpoints

We can’t speak for everyone who has AsPD, nor are we saying that no one with AsPD is capable of being a murderer/abuser etc. but we are saying that y’all need to stop automatically classifying someone as a certain “type” as soon as you know about their disorder.

One last thing I do want to point out is that it is not uncommon for people with AsPD to derive some sort of enjoyment in causing harm, doing something illegal, hurting someone or animals, etc. This entirely stems from lack of environmental control as a child. Being able to control what happens to others or being able to control the things you say or do that hurts someone else is a hefty high to get addicted to; it soothes the underlying itch of not being able to control your own trauma and abuse, so in turn you push these behaviors onto others and enjoy it because it gives you a sense of power and control. Some people with AsPD do genuinely love hurting others, and some enjoy hurting others when they believe it’s deserved or their ire has been stoked. Some enjoy causing pain to those they think deserve it, and others don’t care who they hurt as long as they feel like they’re in control of the situation.

Hope this have some insight into AsPD 🤙🏻 if y’all have any questions, shoot.

#antisocial personality disorder #aspd traits #aspd #aspd awareness #aspd thoughts #aspd things #actually aspd #antisocial pd #personality disorder #cluster b #glitcher system #did #actually did #did stuff #did system #trauma #childhood neglect #mentalheathawareness #mental illness #destigmatization #sociopath

[prismatic-bell]

HEY EVERYONE

Do you enjoy the idea of Sticking It To The Man, but also you’re fucking tired? Maybe you appreciate the idea of direct action of some kind but ADHD, depression, or physical disability has made it nigh-on impossible for you to actually, you know, do shit?

Well, friends, allow me to introduce you to a small but significant thing you can do to Stick It To The Man while also benefiting your own mental health:

I haven’t bought green onions in a year.

If you’re sitting here thinking “holy shit, Nina, those look like hell,” you’re not wrong—they’re recovering from some unintended abuse. They survived two weeks in triple digits (that’s upward of 35 degrees for y’all with the weird sciencey math units) while I, uh. Forgot to water them. The outer layers dried out to protect the inner layers and as soon as I watered these thirsty bitches they went

They literally looked dead three weeks ago. So yeah, they’re not too pretty right now, but you wouldn’t be either, and they’re bouncing back nicely.

So, how to do this simple thing?

1) obtain dirt and a pot. You’ll want to do this first because the next steps go surprisingly fast. My green onions live in a 6” terracotta pot and some gardening topsoil, but you can use potting mix (not Miracle Gro tho, that stuff is trash), dirt from outside if you live in a place where it’s safe to do so, any kind of soil will do provided it’s clean and doesn’t contain pests (although most pests will leave alliums alone because they hate the smell). To be clear, because we love and respect our biosphere in this house, “pests” in this context means “bugs that specifically will attack green onions while providing no benefit to either the onions or any other plants you may have.” The pot is mandatory, however—if you want to do this year-round, you need to be able to move the onions inside/outside as weather allows/demands.

2) buy some green onions. You can skip straight to step 4 from here if you want, but if you’re planning to use them first…

3) cut them only to the tops of the white bits. In other words you ONLY want to use the green part.

4) put the white bits in a ramekin, measuring cup, etc. with some water. I’ve used things as big as juice glasses for this, but that’s really on the big end. Put your container in a window with some sun.

5) 3-5 days later, you should see about half an inch of root growth on the bottoms of your onions, and possibly the beginnings of a tiny green spear at the top. (Maybe a bit more, if they’re overachievers.) Plant them in your pot with just a bit of the white sticking up overtop of the soil.

6) water just a little bit, every other day. You want the soil to always be moist to the touch, but never out and out wet.

7) watch them sprout. This is excellent for your mood, by the way. Science says having and tending green things provides visible benefits to both your physical and mental health. We also know that making tangible things is good for your mental health, and green onions grow quickly, so you get benefits fast.

8) As they grow, you can reduce watering to three times per week because they’ll be able to store more water. The leaves will feel firm and “thick” (you’ll understand what I mean when you get to feel a properly-watered green onion) when they have enough water, much like a succulent’s leaves will get thicker and firmer when it’s well-hydrated, so it’s relatively easy to tell if they need a drink.

9) trim your onions as you need them! I try to never take more than 3-4 leaves in a week—about half a bunch—so it has time to grow more, but if you live with a bunch of people you can get around this by just starting more green onions. Buy three or four bunches and plant them all. They don’t go bad because they literally just grow until you need them. I’ve actually planned meals around “I have not used enough green onions lately and the leaves are bending under their own weight, I need to trim some tops.” Although the ones you see in the grocery store have open tops, you’ll notice closed spears on your new leaves, and these are completely edible. Yes, I regret to tell you they cut off and probably waste the tapered bits just for The Aesthetic. They’re just like any other green part of the onion.

AND YOU WILL NEVER NEED TO BUY GREEN ONIONS AGAIN. Just add a little soil now and again to replenish the nutrients.

Yes, they’re cheap. Yes, this is a small thing. But many small things added together are a big thing. And when you’re confident in your green onions, if you have the desire and ability to do more, there are many other plants you can grow from grocery-store starters.

GO FORTH. ENJOY THIS KNOWLEDGE.

[solaireez]

untitled

Luke Castellan x fem!reader

warning: smut, sub!luke if you squint, not very good writing, not proofread😭

wc: 1.1k

a/n: i was bored and i want to post it so 🤷‍♀️ kinda slow build up towards the actual smut part. i had no idea how to transition from a non sexual setting so, mac n' cheese.

i apologize if my writing is poor, the only thing i’ve wrote besides this was a Draco malfoy fanfic back in 2020 which was so much worse. and i’ve never posted anything on tumblr.

Summer air fills my lungs, camp was being more calm as usual. The campfire glowed dimly beneath the daylight. Luke sat next to me, eating through his lunch. His left hand placed delicately on my right thigh. I glanced up at him, his dark curls practically poking through his eyes.

“you should let me cut it.” I laughed, raising my right hand to push his hair away from his face.

 I took a strand and pulled, measuring how far his hair went. It sat right below his eye. He looked up at me. He smiled despite his mouth being full of mac n’ cheese. His scar scrunching up as he tried to hold his laugh. He quickly tried to swallow his food so he could reply.

“fuck, no” he pulled his head away from my grasp on his hair, laughing.

“why?” I asked firmly. My hand reached back up to mess up his hair.

He grasped on my wrist, both of them. He pushed them away from him. We stopped abruptly, staring at each others eyes. His drifted briefly to my lips. Our breaths were heavy. His grip still tight against my wrist, I was sure he could feel my pulse. He let go, chugging the glass of water before standing up and dragging me to his cabin.

It was empty. It was just us.

My back gently hit the wall by his bed. His hands falling down from my neck down to my waist. Our lips crashed, my hands reached back into his hair. The sounds of people screaming from afar was drowned out by our own breaths. I hummed, pulling away. My fingers traced his scar, I felt him twitch from the touch. He rested his forehead on mine. I pushed against him, guiding him to sit down on the bed. He followed my lead, looking up to me from his position. I stood in front of him, my hand stayed on his cheek, his hand still on my waist.

I slowly climbed on him. Carefully setting each knee beside him. Our eyes still locked. Our breaths still thick around us. I settled above him, refusing to sit on his lap. He had his head tilted back to look at me. My hand supporting the back of neck. Our lips met again, I pulled his head further up. I deepened the kiss, causing him to fall back to the bed. He laid down, watching me sit above him, his eyes never left me. I reached the hem of my shirt, slowly raising it to reveal my skin. That was when his eyes left mine for the first time. He watched me slowly remove the bright orange shirt. His breath hitched as I revealed my tits. His eyes were hungry. Hungry for me. I stepped off the bed, letting him reposition himself on the bed. I unbuttoned my shorts, watching his eyes try to decide where to look. The way I slid my shorts off forced a moan out of Luke. His eyes staring back to mine. He took his bottom lip between his teeth. His hands quickly took off his shirt, then his pants. He was naked before I made my way back on the bed. I still had my bra and panties on. I was on my knees above him. His hand reached behind, fiddling with my bra clasp. I smiled, letting him know he could take it off. He quickly did, with one hand, while the other rested on my waist. I let my bra fall down my body. His eyes falter, falling to my bare tits. my hands trace along the hem of my panties, the stop on each side of my waist. I pull them down slowly, purposely teasing Luke. He took a deep breath as I reveal my pussy. His cock twitched against his abs. I got back up, completely removing my panties.

I finally settled down on his thighs. The base of his cock sat inches from my core. I moved closer to his face, he moved forward, expecting me to kiss him. I held his head in place, roughly cupping his chin, causing his lips to part.

“open.” I commanded.

His mouth opened wider. I inched closer, and closer. I let our lips almost touch, before I shoved my tongue in his mouth. This kiss was different. We were desperate. I sat up, my left hand going down and guiding his cock into me. We moaned into each others mouths. We felt dirty. I lifted my hips, before slamming back down. His hands now gripping my ass. His grasp limiting my movements. He slowly pushed my body toward him, making me grind on his dick. Our mouths still latched on each other. He kept his place on my ass, helping me move. Our moans filling the empty cabin. I pulled away from him. My head lowered to his neck, biting down on his adams apple. His head fell back, allowing me more access. I chuckled at him, my lips kissed the skin. Occasionally biting down, hard enough to leave marks. Every time my teeth sank down, a whimper make its way out his throat.

“fuck…” he whispered, his nails digging into my skin. My hips maintained a rhythm against his cock. His hands leave my ass, moving up to my back. Then he was hugging me. His head falling, he rested his head on my collarbone.

“Luke.” His name left my mouth like a plea. He lifted his head, looking back to my eyes. We kissed again, this time it was softer. It felt reassuring. My arms sat around his neck. Our movements became sloppier, the rhythm lost within the pleasure. I felt his cock twitch inside me. A familiar feeling bloomed in my stomach. Our faces rest against each other as we caught our highs. His cum spilling inside me.

We let our breaths slow, embracing each other. My forehead touching his. I kissed his face, every part I could reach without moving too much. He softly gripped my hips. I understood what he meant. I got off from my place on his lap, his cock slipping out of me. He carefully laid down, leaving space for me in his arms.

“I’m pretty sure we have archery right now.” He groaned at my reminder. His arm went to cover his flushed face. I laughed at his behavior. I dressed myself, watching Luke complain and try to get me into his arms.

“we have to go Luke!” I threw his shirt to his face, then his pants, which he did nothing about, laying still. I removed the clothes from his face, and threw his boxers instead, which triggered him to get up. He hugged my body and threw me back into bed. He caged me. I couldn’t move one bit.

“I’m letting you have 5 minutes.” I grumbled, burying my face into his bicep.

He only hummed in response.

#i dont know what im doing #i couldnt find alot of luke smut #so i made one #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson #pjo series #charlie bushnell #pjo x reader

[corollaservant]

Hate Me (18+, jealous/paranoid f!reader, multi, smut in a tub, nip piercings, song inspo, image creds, 0 caps)

it was awkward to fight with him on vacation. it meant you had to be silently staring at each other across the spa’s private bathtub he had booked. he was on the other end of the tub and huffed in annoyance, his hands wet, the towel and phone away from his reach as you were coldly staring at him for the past 20 minutes. the fight occurred because the waitress had flirted with him while you took your breakfast this morning and he had obviously flirted back. Ok maybe he hadn’t, you certainly thought he did though. he always had that pretty smile on his face, always appreciating the hotel and tourist service people and well..he seemed very popular among the staff. 

‘’i literally told her thank you, babe’’ he exhales as he rolls his eyes. you’ve been having this debate for some time now and while he wants to explain further, he fears there is nothing more to say.

‘’there was no reason to smile like that?’’ 

‘’like what?’’ he raises his voice, it’s absurd he thinks.

‘’you know exactly what I mean. i know damn well you didn’t give the same smile to that lobby boy yesterday’’ you slightly realize the argument is dumb, childish really, its point barely holding up against him. he is used to this and doesn’t mind, in fact most times he thinks it’s cute in a twisted way, your emotions show too easily. the problem is this time he senses you’re more serious about it and wants to end this quickly. 

‘’baby..’’ he sighs. ‘’i promise, there was no thought behind it, okay?’’ he smiles as he opens his arms signaling for you to come close. 

‘’it’s always the same excuse with you. last time, you didn’t remember whose likes you were in, then it was the lady giving you free chocolates and adding a heart to your coffee cup-’’ you continue. ‘’we both got coffees that day!’’

‘’this is getting out of hand.’’ he replies, his voice is composed, like usual but the tone is firm. ‘’i can’t keep arguing like this, you keep testing me, measuring my love when you know that I love you. i show it every fucking day so what's the fucking deal?’’ he is annoyed and angered, you can tell by the way his eyes flicker, if they were laser tags and you his target, they'd burn through your frontal lobe. 

he was always the 'de-escalator' in such situations, you’d spout some unserious accusation, he’d provide logical feedback and you’d end up either mute, huffing in annoyance or fucked dumb. in this instance he chose to splash water in your direction, playfully but not too much. the action obviously annoyed you and in an attempt to defend yourself you splashed him back vigorously but he ducked his head underwater as you felt his arms grab your waist. he reemerged and brought your body close to his, quick reflexes leaving no room for resistance; he always managed to have you on his territory, never the other way around. his toned back was pressed against the cold tiles as your bodies were hardly separated, the only thing between you both water and bubbles from the somehow turned on jacuzzi button. 

‘’i really fucking hate you’’ you whisper against his face, his hands sealed around your waist as you float underwater, pushed back and forth on his torso, your tiny bikini top touching his chest ever so slightly. 

‘’you don’t mean that and you know it’’ he coos, bringing you closer, so close that you have to wrap your legs around him (or at least open them up to fit, you justify) so that you’re resting atop him, a poke teasing under your bikini. 

‘i do’’ you state but his fingers have already started trailing your back, which makes you unwillingly shiver as he moves them towards your hips, placing both palms on your ass and squeezing hard. 

‘’then go ahead and show me how much, yeah?’’ he breathes on your neck, rubbing himself against your entrance. since you’re in water, you sense the direct contact, your soaked bikini feels bare against him and you softly moan. 

‘’I- will not–be having–’ you are being cut off by his lips on you as he pushes you further down on him, chest on his naked torso and he grins.

‘’not what? sex with me?’’ he smirks. he wants to taste your delicate skin, he can’t stop thinking of your tits in that tiny bikini top, spilling and revealing your nipple piercings by default. ever since you got them pierced he could see them hard almost 24/7. he slides the top to your sides and grabs a handful while his other hand guides your lower back to grind against his erection, the feeling’s overbearing and you moan, needy for more but still pissed off he slowly wins you over. 

‘’doesn’t look like it’’ he continues, as he puts the softness of your fat in his mouth, his tongue swirls around the nipple piercing and he swallows; metallic and sweet, just how he likes it. 

‘’baby..ah– p-please..’’ you mewl, his tongue feels too good but you’re always so impatient, always wanting to get fucked before he can tease and since you started this petty fight, he thinks he might as well enjoy it a bit longer. 

‘’what is it sweetheart?’’ he inquires, diverting his attention to your pouting face. he has perfected his oblivious stare and concealed it so well, he knows exactly what's up but wants to get it out of you.

‘’please..continue’’ you give in, a consistent ache pools below you and he wants to smirk but doesn’t allow himself. 

‘’oh?’’ ‘’but i thought you hated me?’’ the words linger.

‘’i do’’ you sigh and now he smirks. ‘’ but i–..that doesn’t mean i don’t want you to continue’’ you shamelessly admit.

‘’is that so?’’ he already knew how this would end up.

he moves his hands towards your core, it doesn’t take long for him to sense how wet you are despite the surroundings as he trails his fingers up and down your cunt. he slides your tiny bikini to the side, you look cute he thinks, tits flush with the top shoved out the way and wide eyes looking at him — anticipating. 

‘’i see you’re being very obedient now, how so?’’ he teases as he pushes two thick fingers in your core, they must fill you up well because he notices the way your mouth parts and your grip tightens on the back of his head.

‘’i.. don’t..know’’ you respond weakly, as he continues his rhythm, kissing your mouth, fingers building up your orgasm. he knows you too well by now, he knows exactly how to work his way into your cunt. 

he has patience; has always been a patient man but that patience can be worn thin and he doesn’t want to waste time. he figures overstimulating you back at the hotel room sounds more practical, he has more space and toys to use on you. plus he is slightly annoyed by the hotel spa room, not only for sanitary reasons but because he can’t feel you to the fullest. 

he exits his fingers moments after he picked up the pace and your moans became more frequent — one hand on your waist still in his embrace as he lets his cock spring free underwater. with zero delay he pushes your hips down on him, having run the tip across your clit, earning him a moan that made his cock jump. he doesn’t break eye contact so with that in mind he admires his dexterity for a second. 

you gasp loudly as you feel him entering you and he hushes you.

‘’be a good girl and be silent for me, please’’ he whispers but not as composed as he'd wish for as your walls have him trapped inside you, the pleasurable sensation highlighted by your hands gripping with small force the roots of his hair. it’s not strong, he smiles; but he appreciates the effort and it makes his cock twitch so he’ll take it.

he thrusts upwards and notices the way your mouth parts and legs tremble shortly after so he guesses he hit your g-spot. he’s filling you up well, the way his palms move your hips up and down, the water pressure and his gaze solely on your face make you grasp around him tightly, he intoxicates you and he unfortunately knows it.

‘’..i ..agh–hate ..you..’’ you murmur against his mouth, eyeing him up as you fall to pieces with each tantalizing thrust, you know you’re gonna come soon, he has you angled is such way that besides his cock pushing deeper and deeper, he brings your body so close that your clit touches his skin, applying extra pressure on your poor entrance. He can feel you on him, it drives him wild.

‘’i didn’t catch that’’ he says, ‘’would–you–repeat?’’ cock thrusting without relent to the tempo of each word as you bounce on his face and arch your head back. 

‘’i.. said.. oh fuck fuck baby- i said i ..hate—’’ you cut yourself off when you feel it — it starts from your hole (or maybe your clit, you can't bother to care) and spreads throughout your whole body as you tremble and tighten around him, his pace never faltering. 

You look so pretty when you come undone, he thinks

‘’i hate you too baby.’’ he hisses and senses he's close as he moves to his own rhythm, digging his fingers in your hips and panting against your neck. shit, he's about to spill, you're too irresistible and he knows you'll take his load with pleasure.

‘’so fucking much.’’

-

Geto, Gojo, Nanami, Toji (give him some credit), Dazai, Fyodor, Tecchou, Aizawa, Hawks, Chrollo, Levi + ur personal favs!

#jujutsu kaisen #geto x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #dazai x reader #fyodor x reader #tecchou x reader #aizawa x reader #hawks x reader #levi x reader #corollaservant

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Granny al Ghul

Ra's al Ghul believed that there were no former members of the League of Assassins. Maddie understood that perfectly, but it didn’t make her any more prepared when she saw her father.

"Hey, are you my favorite sweet grandpa?" Danny, who noticed his mother freezing in fear after opening the door, immediately stood in front of her. "Want to hug?"

"It was you again! I know for sure." The head of the league hissed in anger. ''Get out!"

"But this is my house." Her son shrugged his shoulders and smiled in a strange snide way. "Do you want me to show you my room or do you want me to chew a cookie for you? You look totally senile. Even your feet can’t hold you."

Ra's Al Ghul was shaking with rage. "Don’t play dumb, I know you’ve been tinkering with water in my Lazarus pits." "They are part of the nature reserve of the Ghost Zone." Danny was rightly outraged. "Write your name on them even a hundred times, they will not be yours."

"But you’ll get a fine for vandalism. You’re lucky I didn’t report you to the authorities." Danny threatens grandpa with his finger. "But it’s only because we’re family, you know?" Ra's frowns but stops arguing. "Would you like a cup of tea?" Danny’s offering a truce. Ra's sighs. "Well, I wouldn't say no."

~~~~~

"Do you like your drink?" Danny asks, pouring grandpa more green tea with milk. "Disgusting." The head of the League of Assassins answers sincerely. "Good." Danny’s smiling like a gremlin. "Hey, do you want to see an album with photos of baby Danny, Ra's?" asks Jack, who doesn’t notice the tension around. "No." Maddie was sitting there with her eye twitching for the last 40 minutes. "I would like to see a family photo album, Madeline." Ra's, who saw an opportunity to embarrass his insolent grandson, did not want to lose it.

~~~~~

"For the last time, why should I participate in this abomination?" Ra's stared angrily at his grandson pushing him into the classroom.

"Come on, grandpa, you saw my photo from kindergarten with a piss on my pants." Danny looked at him, batting his eyelashes.

Ra's rolled his eyes."And why does it mean I have to join this circus?"

"We’re definitely family now! And I promised Mr. Lancer I will take on Career Day this year anyone but not mom or dad. I’m definitely not gonna call Vlad. So that leaves you." Danny pushed him again.

The guard at the Demon's Head got nervous, but Ra’s hand stopped him. "I did not agree."Grandpa moved one of the swords to Danny’s neck.

Fenton just brushed it off with a frown. "Come on, tell everyone a little bit about your plans for immortality and world domination. Maybe I’ll be interested in being your heir then. I promise to listen carefully!"

~~~~

"The most important thing in educating your minions is control. They must feel an absolute fear of your authority." The inspired Ra's continued his speech after the bell. Lancer was taking notes. Tucker looked at it.

"I don’t like it, guys. I stick to the good old-fashioned disciplinary measures, you know?" Techno geek whispered.

"Well, I’m totally fine with it." Danny, who had noticed that after a fascinating lecture about the most effective tortures Dash was sitting two desks further away from him, showed his grandfather fist with the thumb up.

~~~~

"I changed my mind, I’ll kill him." Danny roared, running around the stadium after his thirtieth lap. What idiot from the school board took his crazy grandfather’s advice about organizing extra fitness classes? Next to him Wes fell to the ground. "Do it, Phantom. Avenge us." The boy wheezed at the last breath. "No distractions, five more laps!" Ra's stood on the field with the hand fan. "This bastar-r-rd." Danny roared furiously. "What? My favorite grandson wants to run another ten? Well, I can’t say no, right, coach?" Demon's Head yelled.

~~~~

"You know, it is really nice to take a vacation sometimes. I feel an unprecedented surge of strength." Ra’s reached out to Mr. Lancer standing next to him. "Would you like to meet for coffee sometime?"

"How about Friday, around 7:00 p.m.?" Mr Lancer looked at his schedule. "No, I’m busy at this time." Ra's sighed with regret. "We have a ritual sacrifice scheduled for six p.m." "You have a great sense of humor, my friend." Mr. Lancer laughed. "Who knew Mr. Fenton had such an intriguing and well-read grandfather. You’re full of surprises, Mr al Ghul." ~~~~ Damian, sitting on the roof of Casper High, lays down his binoculars and sighs. "Yes, mother is right, grandfather finally lost his mind." "Well, I’m glad you noticed too." A voice filled with relief rang very close. "Who’s here?" Damian took out the katana. "Um, boo?" Void’s voice answered.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdp prompt #dpxdc prompts #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Spiders Sister - Chapter 2

Summary: Reader is still a little sick and staying hidden while Wanda and Natasha look after her.

TW: Sickness, asthma

Words: 2.8K

A/n: Part two!!!

It must have been a couple of hours sleep before you woke up again. Somebody was knocking on the door and for a second you panicked, still feeling awful and sleepy your mind was working though a dense fog to catch up.

When you finally managed to recall the events of earlier that morning, you felt a slight bit of relief.

“Come in.” You called, your throat scratchy and sounding like sandpaper on glass.

The door handle turned, and you prayed the girls had kept their promise to not tell the others yet.

Wanda’s face peered into the room, and she glanced around until her eyes fell on you, still holed up in bed under the sheets.

“How are you feeling?” Wanda asked as she came inside, holding a tray. She gently closed the door after her and came to sit on the bed beside you.

“A bit better than I was. But not great.” You mumbled.

“Well, if you don’t mind, Nat and I are happy to look after you until you get better. Peter’s been telling us stories about you, now he can.” She begun and you groaned. Drawing a smile from her. “All good don’t worry. He’s a good kid and it sounds like you’re a good sister. And spider-man at that.” She said with a wink, and you buried your flaming face in your hands.

Wanda carefully pried your fingers away from your blazing cheeks and smiled softly at you.

“Now, I made you some soup and Nat’s gone to steal some of Peter’s enhanced-super cold and flu medicine out of Bruce’s lab for you.” Wanda said as she set the tray down on your bedside table. “Put this under your tongue.” She said handing you a thermometer.

“I’m fine.” You said not taking from her. She raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Really. Im all good now.” You argued and she still wasn’t having it.

Using her magic wanda floated the thermometer up to hover in front of your lips. You gave her a look and opened your mouth.

She beamed at you and the thermometer positioned itself under your tongue.

“Now what?” You mumbled from behind the stick.

“Now we wait for that to beep and go from there.” Wanda said catching the drooping thermometer with her finger before it could fall from your mouth while you spoke.

After a few more seconds of Wanda fussing with the things on the tray and messaging who you assumed must be Nat on her phone, the stick beeped.

Before you had a chance to remove it yourself wanda had stolen from your lips and was closely observing the numbers on the small screen.

She hummed a low note and sent another text to Nat before placing it down on the bedside table.

“Well?” You asked trying not to pout about feeling left out.

“102.3 still a fever.” Wanda said before standing and heading to the door to open it.

Natasha stepped into the room with three bottles of medicine in her arms.

She came over and took a seat next to wanda who had sat back on the bed like before.

She handed the bottles to wanda who looked at the labels and began taking out pills from two of the bottles and measuring out a red liquid from the other.

“Oh, hell nah.” You said. “I am not drinking that.”

Nat raised an eyebrow. “You will be.” She said and you frowned, slouching down and glaring at her which only seemed to make her smirk grow larger.

Wanda finished measuring it all out and handed you the two pills and a glass of water.

“What is this?” You asked.

“Fever reducers and cold and flu meds that were made for peter.” Wanda said and you nodded and took them.

Then wanda held out the small medicine cup of red liquid.

“Nope.” You said pursing your lips. “Not happening.”

“If you don’t take this, I’ll force feed you it myself.” Wanda said and you glared at each other for a second before swiping it out of her hands.

“Fine.” You grumbled and wanda beamed at you.

“Good girl.” She said and you defiantly did not feel your stomach flip at those two words.

However, Natasha seemed to smirk to herself about something while wanda busied herself with the soup.

You took the medicine like a shot and scrunched up your nose after.

“Why is it sweet?” You asked smacking your lips together.

“Peter’s a baby when it comes to gross cough syrup, so he requested it taste like cotton candy.” Nat said and you rolled your eyes.

“Of course he did.” You mumbled.

Before you could find further reason to complain Nat plucked the cup from your hands and wanda set the tray on your lap, fussing over the pillows behind you that were keeping you propped up against the bedhead.

You eyed the tray closely. There was a bowl of thick orange soup with a blob of white sprinkle with small green herbs. Along with a soup spoon and napkin.

“Um? What kind of soup is it?” You asked.

“Pumpkin soup with sour cream and chives.” Wanda said. “It’s an old family recipe from my childhood.” She said seeming to lose her smile for a fraction of a second before it came back.

You nodded. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to go to all the effort wanda.”

She just shrugged. “Its kind of what we do around here.”

“Look after each other, she means.” Nat clarified and you nodded and brought a spoonful of soup to your lips.

It was warm and tasted amazing. You hummed in delight at the taste and Wanda beamed.

“This is really good.” You said taking another spoonful of it.

“I’m glad you like it.” Wanda said.

“So, where’s peter?” You asked, striking up conversation.

“May took him home. Nat managed to convince her that you were fine staying here with us. We are happy to have you and if you like that could be a more permanent offer depending on what the team has to say.” Wanda said and you choked on your soup.

Coughing, you felt Natasha’s strong hands pound your back to help you breathe.

Once the fit had subsided you blinked at wanda who was looking at you with concern in her eyes. You waved her off.

“I’m all good.” You begun but she handed you the glass of water anyways.

“Small sips.” She instructed and you nodded and drank some of it slowly.

“Sorry.” You apologised. “I just wasn’t expecting that.” You mumbled, cheeks warm.

“No need to apologise I probably should have waited until you weren’t eating.” Wanda said and you laughed.

“But in all seriousness… you guys want me here? Like … on the team?” You asked and Nat looked at Wanda before nodding.

“We would need to have Fury sign off. Steve and Tony will have to agree as well, but theres not denying you would be a valuable asset to the team.” Nat begun. “I’m planning on holding a meeting with the team when your up to it. But until then I want you to rest and get better. It’s important you put your best foot forward when starting off with the team.” Nat said and Wanda nodded.

“You’ll do great. The team will love you.” Wanda agreed, throwing in her own two cents to Nat’s speech.

“So, Nat how did you manage to sneak in and out of Bruce’s lab and find peters meds?” Wanda asked with the grin that Natasha returned.

As Nat launched into her story, which included a cabinet of medicine labelled spider-baby, a banner-stark debate over what atom is the best and lastly her spy skills.

By now everyone had gotten themselves comfortable on the bed. You were sat against the headboard with wanda on your left and Natasha on your right.

The king bed managed to squeeze all of you in and left ample room for more space.

As Nat continued her story you found yourself listing to one side. Your eyes drifting half shut as the exhaustion rolled over you.

Blinking harshly, you tried to stay awake until a soft hand guided your head to something soft that smelt like strawberries and vanilla.

You decided to forgo fighting sleep for any longer and left yourself drift off.

Natasha grinned at Wanda who was stroking your hair as you laid on her shoulder asleep.

It was an adorable sight and Nat may or may not have taken a photo of all three of you together with you asleep in the middle.

After the two listened to your slightly wheezy breathing and elected to let you sleep for now and to monitor your breathing, Wanda put on a sit-com on the Tv on a low volume as her and Nat settled in.

Over the course of the afternoon Wanda and Nat kept a close eye on you as you slept. Listening to the wheeze in your exhale and making sure it didn’t get worse or require your asthma inhaler.

Once or twice when Wanda checked your temperature with her hand against your forehead you nuzzled into her palm, still sleeping which warmed the witch's heart

You were adorable in her eyes and the glint in Natasha’s said she felt the same way.

At one point your powers began acting up as Wanda wanted to get up for some water and she found herself stuck to you.

She had looked lost and slightly bewildered while Nat giggled and helped her pry you off her.

“Tony says peter does the same thing when he’s sick. They can’t control it.” Nat had explained to Wanda in a hushed and slightly amused whisper so as not to wake you.

Finally at around five in the evening Wanda decided she needed to get up and cook dinner.

As she slid out of bed you began to wiggle a bit, seeking the warmth that had been there moments ago as you had been tucked into her side.

Wanda watched like a deer in headlights to see if you would wake up.

Instead, you simply rolled over and latched onto Natasha leg. Clinging to it like a baby sloth cuddling its mama.

Natasha had looked surprised almost shocked at the turn of events and Wanda hid a giggle behind her hand at Nat’s comical expression before she schooled her features.

It took a lot to surprise Natasha, but you had managed to do it within only knowing her for two days.

Wanda silently slipped out the door as Natasha looked down at you with a peaceful smile.

No longer paying attention to the Tv she was gazing down at you as she gently traced a pattern on your arm.

Despite having only known you for two days, Wanda and Natasha had found themselves almost entranced by you. From the way your nose scrunched up when you smiled to the way it twitched like a bunny before you sneezed.

Peter had kept telling them stories about you and your escapades as spider-man that had often landed him in trouble with Tony.

Wanda and Natasha had found all the walls they had spent years building over their scarred hearts to have melted in the presence of your sunny disposition, even if it was buried under a little sickness at the moment.

Wanda wanted to learn more about you, she always loved stories as a child, but you seemed like the best novel she may ever get the chance to read. And she wanted nothing more than to write the rest of your chapters together. She would be willing to bleed the ink from her own body to write your happily ever after together on the same page. To exist in a world of you and her. To add to the ecosystem that fed her soul. Because she always felt she had room for more un her heart. She had felt love like this before, once before, and it was double as she had laid in the bed with the both of you.

Natasha dreamed of finding someone that felt like home. After so long running from false families and a broken childhood, she wanted nothing more than to curl up and relax with someone that made her feel safe. Someone that made her feel the same way you do when you drink hot chocolate while watching the snow drift down on a winter wonderland. You were the home she was looking for. The way your heart touched hers, reached for her like a magnet was something she rarely felt. Something she had only ever felt once before. With another redhead who lived in the tower.

Wanda finished making dinner at around six. Before calling the team, she plated up three dishes of food and left the kitchen.

Only once she was safely clear and, in the lift, did she tell Jarvis to alert the team for dinner.

When Wanda stepped back into your room the first thing, she noticed was the concern on Natashas face.

Many may see the black widow as a cold heartless woman, yet that was just her persona in front of the cameras.

Sure, she was hard to crack open at first, but it seems she had taken a liking to you almost immediately.

Behind closed doors Natasha was quite a sweet and caring person for those she loved, showing her affection in indirect manners such as little gifts and cracking jokes at just the right time.

As wanda approached the bed she begun to realise why Nat was worried.

Your breathing which they had been monitoring had grown more wheezy.

Nat looked up from where she had been studying your face to look at wanda.

“I wasn’t sure if I should let her sleep or wake her to use her inhaler.” Nat said.

“No, you did the right thing. We have to wake her up for dinner now anyway, so we’ll have her use it now.” Wanda said with a small smile.

“We should also check her temperature and give her some more medicine.” Nat added and wanda agreed with a nod as she placed the dishes down on the desk.

Natasha gently began to rub your arm. “Y/n/n. Y/n/n wake up.” Nat said softly and after a second you batted her hand away drawing a chuckle from Wanda.

“Noooo let me sleep.” You said but Nat wasn’t having it.

You tried to pull the covers over your head but Nat held them down in place on the bed with her foot.

“Would you get up if I told you wanda made dinner?” Nat asked and wanda stifled a chuckle behind her hand as you cracked one eye open.

“Maybe.” You said and wriggled so you were sat against the headboard.

“Good. But before you get dinner its medicine time.” Nat said and you groaned in protest.

“There’s always a catch.” You grumbled and Wanda winked at you.

“For you? Always.” Wanda grinned and you gave her a half-hearted glare.

Natasha pressed your inhaler into your hand, and you simply blinked at her. “I don’t need it.” You said.

“I’m not asking again.” Nat smiled sweetly.

“Technically you didn’t ask the first time.” You said and looked at wanda for backup where she was leaning against the desk with an amused smile.

“Nope.” She said popping the p. “I can hear you wheezing from here bubs. Take it and breath like the rest of us.” She said smugly.

“Whatever.” You pouted and took the inhaler, ignoring them both and looking at a spot on the wall.

When you were done wanda patted your cheek.

“Good.” She said handing you a thermometer you took and dutifully placed under your tongue.

When it beeped Nat’s quick hands beat you to it and stole the device from your lips.

“99.8 it’s gone down.” Nat said with a smile.

“Yay.” You drawled sarcastically.

Before you could even get another word or remark in Wanda placed two tablets into your hand. “Swallow these.” She instructed and pressed a glass of water into your other hand.

You sighed and did as you were told, making both women smile at each other.

As the three of you ate you complemented Wanda’s cooking and savoured the food.

The two women chatted to you about the avengers asking any questions you had. When dinner was done, they could see you fighting to stay awake.

When do I get to meet the team?” You asked over a yawn you directed into your fist.

“Well, we’ll see how you feel in the morning and go from there.” Wanda smiled as she messed around with the pillows. “Get some sleep Y/n.” She smiled and you nodded, too tired to argue.

Settling down you were asleep before they two had left the room.

PART 3

#sick reader #sicfic #spiderman #spider!reader #peter Parker’s sister #peter parker #wanda x r #wanda x natasha #wanda maximoff #natahsa romanoff #whump #fluff #comfort #marvel #wandanat #fanfic #wandanat x reader #wandanat comfort #part 2 #fanfiction #avengers reader #avengers #domestic avengers #wanda comfort #Natasha comfort #flu #sickness #sick #asthma #fever

[dear-ao3]

how to make pancakes more filling and taste better

so pancakes are actually way way easier than everyone thinks they are and they are very very easy to change up as long as you know how to

the things that you don't fuck with are the amount of flour, oil, egg, milk and baking powder/soda. as long as you stick to that on any recipe you can change pretty much anything else or substitute.

generally recipes are 1 egg to 1 cup of flour. a 1 cup flour 1 egg recipe usually serves 2 and you can double the recipe for 4, etc.

you can also substitute up to half of the four in a recipe for whole wheat flour without changing the leavening measurements. you can do the same for adding in protein powder, just adjust the sugar accordingly if its sweetened protein powder.

so, this is my favorite basic buttermilk pancake recipe, it makes about 10 pancakes:

1 1/4 cups flour 1/2 cup old fashioned oats 1-1 1/2 tbsp some kind of sweetener (brown/white sugar or maple syrup/agave syrup all work well but there's other options) 1/2 tsp baking soda 1 egg 1 1/4 cup buttermilk 1 tbsp oil of choice (butter or coconut oil generally) 1/2 tsp salt

this is the bones of the recipe. the sweetener is adjustable based on how sweet you like your pancakes but the rest of it should all stay the same. double this if you want to make pancakes to serve 4 people (about 20 pancakes)

to this, i add:

as much vanilla extract as my heart desires (within reason, i see you tumblr) some cinnamon/pumpkin pie spice/whatever you want lemon zest from 1 lemon (or orange zest) blueberries fresh or frozen (but you can use any mix in like bananas or nuts or whatever)

one very important note: you don't need buttermilk to make this recipe. you can substitute buttermilk by combining 1 teaspoon of lemon juice or white vinegar for every 1 cup of milk (its supposed to be regular milk but you can use plant or nut milk too) and letting it stand for 10 minutes.

the instructions:

zest your citrus and add it to your sugar. mush it together until you get a paste or sorts. add to that your oats, vanilla and buttermilk and stir them together. let the oats soak in the mixture for 10 minutes.

combine your flour, baking soda, salt and cinnamon or spices.

after your oats are done soaking add in the oil and the egg (make sure the egg is beaten well)

add the wet into the dry and combine. make sure that all the flour is mixed in. there will be lumps. we want the lumps. then add your mix ins.

grease a pan. this can be a regular frying pan an electric griddle or a stovetop griddle. let the oil sit on the pan on medium heat for a few minutes or until you throw a few water drops on the pan and they crackle and jump.

use a 1/3 measuring cup and scoop your batter onto the pan, space them out a little but not ridiculously. flip them with a plastic spatula (ideal) 2-3 times or until they're fully cooked. (you tell if they're cooked if there's no wet batter on the sides)

voila. pancakes.

use this recipe or use the bare bones version to make your own thing.

happy pancake making.

#not a tag #from saph #pancakes #recipes

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A few days pass as the humiliation of your big lesson clings in the air. You think about it too much. Enough that you find yourself cringing to yourself on your bike ride home or even when lying in bed. You’ve never been the most socially adept so the encounter leaves you reeling.

As you help Bre with opening, you feel your heartbeat pick up once more. You need to chase the elephant from the room. You puff out and wet your lips as you glance over at her. She measures out grinds into the silver machine as her eyes pinpoint on the task.

“Um, so, Bre,” you approach her warily with a fresh sleeve of cups, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Mm,” she grumbles groggily. She’s on her second coffee already and she only just got there twenty minutes ago.

“So, um, that guy, from the other day,” you rub your boiling neck, “with the mustache. You said he’s the boss. So he owns this place?”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes as she shuts the lid of the machine and turns the silver dial on the front. She shakes her head as the machine starts to brew and she plants her hand on the counter in front of it. She faces you, her other hand going to her hip.

“Mr. Hansen? Lloyd. Hansen.” She enunciates as if you should know the name.

Your lips downturn and you shrug, “is that his name?”

“Are you new in town?” She asks hotly.

You nod, “yeah, actually. I used to live about forty minutes out of town but there was nothing there--”

“It shows,” she retorts, “he owns this shop, he owns the street outside, he owns me, he owns you. He owns this city. Got it?”

You hum and nod as you look thoughtfully to the ceiling, “not really. But he’s important, got it.”

“Just if he comes back in, come get me and say as little as you can. And please, for the love of god, do not ask him for money,” she snips.

“Oh, alright,” you deflate, “I didn’t know--”

“Now you do. Just trust me when I tell you, you don’t want to fuck around with him. If he tells you to pour boiling water on yourself, you’re better off just doing it,” she sneers.

You wince, “okay, sorry, Bre, I was just asking.”

“You ask too many questions,” she turns and goes into the backroom. She returns, dangling a keyring from her finger, “open up. It’s time.”

You take the key and go to unlock the door and flip on the sign. You retreat back behind the counter, swallowed up by the tension between you. You regret asking. You thought it might help clear the air but now you can barely breathe.

When the first customer enters, you volunteer to help them. Bre just mutters and slurps from her coffee. She might have less of a headache if she takes it easy on the caffeine. You don’t say as much to her, nothing really at all as you work through order after order.

She hops onto prep as you man the till while the queue grows. The morning rush is in full effect as you slide baked goods into little paper sleeves and hand them over before sending customers down to the window to wait for their drinks. The hectic flow helps you forget about the awkward start.

When at last the crowd trickles down and the cafe hums with voices sitting at the tables, you have a moment to catch your breath and center yourself. You like this job, it’s just like your last one, but the company isn’t as pleasant. Bre taps her thumb on her phone screen and ignores you.

The ebbs come with hide tides and soon lunch has you scrambling once more. The smell of toasted bread and cinnamon has your stomach grumbling. You’re too busy to let the emptiness bother you for long. When high noon influx subsides, Bre yawns.

“Lunch,” she announces, “I’m going to head down to Tabitha’s. They’re having a clearance sale.”

“Oh, alright,” you agree, not mentioning that she said earlier you could go first, “I’ll be here.”

She doesn’t respond as she disappears into the back to get her things. You hear her leave through the side door that leads through to the alley. You sigh out and watch the sit-in customers on their laptops or chatting with friends.

You resist the temptation of the tarts staring at you from the display. You can hold out until it’s your turn. The door jingles and a new customer enters. You’re too fixated on the painting of a latte to glance over. Not until you sense the sudden shift in the air. Several people quiet and pack up to go.

Footfalls scuff across the floor and customers leave their unfinished drinks on the table as they hurry for the door. You peer around then at the approaching shadow. It’s him. Oh no. Bre isn’t here.

“Um, hello, Mr. Hensen,” you smile shakily, “how are you?”

He stares at you as he comes to stand across the till from you. His blue eyes darken as he lets a long exhale out through his nose. You gulp and your cheeks tremble. He tilts his head and arches a brow.

“Hansen,” he corrects.

“Right, Floyd Hansen, I remember--”

“Lloyd,” he hits his fist on the counter and you gasp. “Lloyd fucking Hansen.” He leans forward and bares his teeth, “get that through that thick fucking skull.” He reaches for you, grabbing the front of your shirt, “you won’t forget who I am.”

“I’m s-sorry, I’m bad with names--”

“Shut up,” he twists the fabric until it strains against the back of your neck, “if you weren’t so goddamn pathetic, I’d drag you across this counter.”

Your eyes round and you bat your lashes. He’s only an inch away from you. You shiver as he opens his hand and presses the vee of his index and thumb to your throat. You’re frozen, terrified. Who is this man?

“Get me my fucking coffee,” he squeezes then shoves you so you choke.

You stumble back and bring your hand to your neck. You nod, eyes glittering with unspent tears, and look around. You can’t remember what he ordered. You’ll just have to make something up. Or maybe you could just sneak out like Bre...

#the man #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #drabble #series #au #mob au

[tarjapearce]

Mi Dulce Cereza (Pt. 8)

Ranchero! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: Telenovela coded drama towards the end, Not so subtle hints of jealousy, fluff.

Summary: New truths are revealed, while you and Miguel’s bond strengthens.

Previous

Intro:

As the days advanced in Hacienda O'Hara, so did the renovations. He main house, Miguel and your sanctuary, had the windows and water system installed, the floors freshly done and ready to be moped in. There was little details that could be added within the following days.

Such as the stair's handles, and the hot tub in the main bedroom. An initial petition of Miguel that proved to be useful and perfect for you. He knew pregnancy would get more difficult as it grew on you.

Today's day was dedicated to the fencing around the property. A step closer to increase the security, which got him thinking.

Your parents had been quiet enough, and that meant no good. However, his mind focused on the now and how good things had advanced.

He got new contacts through town, a new cattle and horses supplier, some seeds and orchard expert, a veterinary specialized in livestock, a coffee supplier and a security company that would install the cameras once the place was fenced.

Your pregnancy was going great, twelve weeks and counting. The first trimester and a bit more were the most delicate months during the gestation, and you were almost out of danger. Baby bump was prominent enough for people realize your condition.

Many or most women would have a smaller and barely noticeable bump, but it was Miguel’s child you were growing within. He was a big man, so it was obvious for his child to be big and take a bit more of room.

It concerned him you'd have a c section or any sort of complication that would prove Vicky a bit too much for her knowledge. But things were too soon to be flooded with negative thinking.

You were alright, and that's all that he needed to know.

Miguel would often find himself stroking your belly to sleep, smiling in his sleep, happy to witness first hand the miracle of life growing alongside with you. Even though he had no idea of parenting, he knew Victoria would help him and you. Guiding you both towards the ABC's of parenthood.

He'd often fantasized with a girl. He always wanted one, to call her his little princess. He already had a queen. His queen.

The owner of his heart that was unable to sleep if he wasn't around. His one and only that curled in his chest every night and played with his hair if he wasn't feeling good. His beloved and caring wife that always asked him about the favorite part of his day, his meal, his fears to ease them later, and if he was drinking enough water cause you had caught him drinking around six cups of coffee.

His sex drive had taken a better turn, he  felt younger and happier. But there was always a little hair in his soup to ruin his mood.

---

Paco was in charge to measure some of the fence and the height of the cameras.

"No te vayas a caer, hold on tight! " (Watch your fall)

"I've got this, tío! Just gotta measure that post lamp."

"I'm telling you to hold on! you're not gonna reach that-"

Miguel's eyes widened as Paco fell on the floor with a loud thud. His nephew's arm split at the forearm and held tightly by a sobbing and groaning Paco.

"Puta madre, Paco!"

Miguel rushed to him and helped him, the younger man clenched his teeth upon the pained waves that ran deep through his body.

Vicky received them with a horrified gasp. Miguel reprimanded him.

"I told you to listen! Why didn't you listen?!"

"Miguel, cálmate! Yelling him won't resolve anything. He needs a doctor!"

He gave a deep sigh and held his hands up, trying to appease Victoria.

"Joseph!" Miguel called and the young man came.

"Take him to town, go to the doctor."

Joseph nodded but cringed at the way Paco's arm was broken.

You arrived after the initial fight. Miguel told you everything and you squeezed his hands trying to reassure him.

"He didn't listen and look what happened."

"He's young, Miguel. You know how young people is. He'll be fine."

You had to pull him down to kiss his cheek.

"I'll be doing some errands today. Gotta go to the bank to check up some stuff."

"Want me to go with you?"

"Ah don't worry, it's a quick thing. Gotta make sure I've got a separate account from my parents."

He nodded with a little smile.

"Should I send Vicky with you?"

"I appreciate your concern, sweetie but I'll be fine. Can I take the truck with me?"

"Of course. Just wait until Paco returns."

He twirled you and pushed you closer to his chest, his lips delivered kisses ontop of your head, in the meantime Joseph and Paco returned.

And once they did, you left for the bank.

You gotta thank Miguel for the pregnancy glow. Cheeks didn't need any more blush, neither the lips, skin took a day off from breaking out and be radiant as if making you the prettiest pregnant woman in the bank.

Rural life had started to rub on you and your fashion choices, since you now wore a pair of black jeans, leather boots, a tank top and a flannel, and a staple, your own Stetson hat.

As you arrived to the bank, you waited in line, there wasn't much people around, a couple of elderly ladies, and around six people in line. three women including you, and three men.

Knowing that the elder would take their time, you waited in the regular line. A man, a gorgeous looking one waited right behind you. He was tall, fair skinned, well kept beard and someone that overall screamed I breath money.

Yet had decided to await his turn in like like the rest of you. Hazel eyes met with yours before diverting his eyes discretely towards your body.

He smiled at the sight of the plump ass, but his smile faltered upon seeing the golden band around your ring finger and the baby bump that made you look so radiant and beautiful.

Your name was called by the lady in the window. Hazel eyes followed you.

Transaction was completed within some minutes, thankfully way before Miguel showed up in your life you had saved a good chunk of money through the years without your parents knowing, and it had paid off.

You then made a new account with Miguel's last name. A little victory for you. You then went to the customer service section to finish the whole thing.

The same man from before sat a few steps from you.

"Glad to see you're back, Mr. Kravinoff."

He smirked upon your eyes resting on him, studying and taking in his features. Learning his face.

Sergei Kravinoff, owner of the biggest exotic animal collection in town, millionaire, avid hunter and a businessman. He was always up to invest.

You were dispatched at the same time. Boots clicked after him. Jame's words of him being the one that Agustín was sold off to, rang in your head.

"Mr. Kravinoff?" You called and he turned to face you. Even though he was even more handsome up close, your mind was set into getting Agustín back.

You introduced yourself, and his pupils were blown for a second. Hand warm and delicate against his. Touch was just as he had imagined, the picture Rosaura had shown him didn't made you justice.

"Could we have a word?"

He nodded with enthusiasm. He gestured to one of the vacant near tables and sat across you.

"Thanks. I was told that you are familiar with Pastor William's business."

"Yes, I am. Why?"

"I'm aware that you had recently bought a horse from them."

Sergei's eyes widened softly at your words. Gossip sure spread fast. But what truly amused him, was you knowing the punctual details.

Little little town.

"I did, yes." His accent heavy as he leaned on to you.

"I'd like to buy that horse from you."

His mouth gaped softly at your words while blinking.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I'd like to buy Agustín back from you, Mr. Kravinoff."

The way his name rolled off your tongue sent shivers down his spine.

"Oh? The horse had a name?"

"And an owner. Well, more like someone that rescued him."

"Ah, the friesian horse. May I know who this person was?"

"My husband, sir. Agustín was quite neglected and aggressive, he nearly injured the other horses. But my husband rehabilitated him."

"I see."

"Is... the horse sick?"

"No, I've kept him fed and groomed."

You smiled at his words. It sent a little jolt in his heart. You were married. And were set into buying an expensive horse from him as a gift. He wanted to put your patience and love to test.

"You must understand, Mrs...?"

"O'Hara."

A mental note to search him up later popped in Sergei's mind.

"Right. Mrs. O'Hara, you must understand that a friesian purebred is everything but cheap. I could sell a different and cheaper horse if you wish to-."

"No. I want Agustín."

Your spoiled side was slowly coming out, but it made him smile and his heart to beat at such determination.

"Whoever your husband is, must be a lucky man."

"I'm the lucky one. But, let's talk business."

"Twenty five grand. That's my price. I've had to invest in vitamins, a new trainer and new hooves."

"I see"

"If the price is too much I could-"

"No, no. Its fine. Could you send it over to our estate?"

Sergei chuckled, you didn't back down. In fact, you seemed thrilled. But he'd also have the chance to see what kind of husband you had married, that had you writing him a check for twenty five thousand. You were either too inlove or too spoiled to let that sum of money go without much thought.

"Of course."

You gave him a check, his fingers brushed on yours.

"Thanks." He tucked the check in and you stood. Baby bump in full display on him.

"How far are you?"

"Hm? Uh, I'm twelve weeks now."

"Are you excited?"

"Very."

You nodded with a beam.

"Mrs. O'Hara?"

"Yes?"

"The address. For the delivery."

"Oh! right. Sorry."

You scribbled your address in a piece of paper, his eyes didn't leave you. You were excited, happily married to another man he'd have the experience to meet.

He wanted to see who was the man that had snatched you from him. He'd definitely talk to Rosaura later. He wasn't one to be fooled, nor one to leave with empty hands after being promised something.

"There. Thanks for your time."

"Thanks to you, Mrs. O'Hara. "

He nodded with a smile to then watch you leave.

You were over the moon, your luck was on a hight tab today. Things had been rough back at home, and Miguel had been stressing over the littlest things. And to have the chance of getting Agustín back to make him smile, was a chance you weren't letting escape.

You returned to the estate. Marveling at what you were building alongside Miguel. Susprises didn't sit too well in your mouth cause as soon as you saw Miguel, you hugged him from behind and squealed.

"Mind to share what's gotten you like this?"

"I've got you a surprise."

"Do you?"

"Yes. But you will have to wait until tomorrow."

"Alright."

His arms secured around you. Nose tickled with a foreign smell. A man's cologne. His brows furrowed.

"Have I told you how much I'd love to take you right now? With that hat on?"

Your cheeks flushed deeply as you snorted.

"Like, right now now?"

"Missed you."

"I was gone for just a few hours."

"So? Am I not allowed to miss my wife?"

He carried you in his arms like your weight was nothing. In other times he'd throw you over his shoulder and walk away, but since his child was now growing inside, he was careful while carried you bridal style to your bedroom. Vicky only rolled her eyes with a tired smile.

"There is so much to do still, Miguel!"

"Ya regreso." (I'll be back)

His smile was childish, relaxed, and only you could provoke it.

"You haven't even got one kid yet and are already trying for more."

"You'll love them anyways, Ma."

Miguel mumbled with a chuckle before closing the door. He was set into making that scent to go away from you. The only smell he wanted to feel on you was your perfume, his, your sweat or his. To have another besides those, irked him.

Dinner came in a blur. Mary and Susan helped Vicky, her guard towards her was still up but less obvious. She showed them their duties. Susan would remain in the cleaning and crop area, Mary would help in the kitchen and with the animals feeding. Everyone had their new schedules, as everyone participated in different activities.

"Miss Rosaura always arranged dates for la patrona."

Mary attempted her best into not butchering the word, it was a catchy one. Cerecita was reserved only for Miguel and Vicky.

"But the horses always went crazy and they eventually stopped."

Susan giggled upon remembering the last date your mother made you go through. And how Luis ended up chasing away the man.

"That's sounds like Miguel's doing"

"It was."

You joined the conversation with a impish smile. Hair damp, freshly out the shower, just like Miguel that went to supervise the fence. The foreign smell no longer lingered in you.

"He told me that he had trained the horses to not allow anyone but him to ride them."

Vicky couldn't help but shake her head with a smile.

"Ese muchacho..." (That boy)

"Let's serve up."

You and nauseas had a rocky relationship, sometimes they were good and let you have a normal day, other times they were there to make sure you were annoyed enough to sour your mood, ending up in tears over the dumbest things.

Miguel sometimes was truly at lost on how to calm you or make you feel less uncomfortable. But Vicky always helped him out. Without her he'd be at lost on what to do regarding you.

So far she kept you and his baby healthy, even though thanking her was unavoidable, Vicky batted him away. She was as excited as you both were. Sometimes Miguel would talk through the day with Vicky, looking for names.

Only to end up laughing at the ridiculous names some people named their babies. You on the other hand seemed at ease.

"I wanna know what is it gonna be before breaking my head in looking for names."

You've told him, he couldn't wait to have his baby in his arms. Have his family complete, and his dream fulfilled at last.

Sometimes he felt the train of getting a family left him, the thirties were hard enough since he got people reminding him of getting himself one.

Unlike Gabriel, his mind was to settle down and have something he called his, instead of juggling between deciding or not to settle down. But what to do, Gabriel was still young barely passing the twenty seven. You were a year younger than him.

Your tears however made him snap his attention towards you.

"You okay, mi amor?"

"I can't tie my shoes."

He couldn't help but snort at your words while kissing your forehead.

"Let me help you with that."

He put your boots and laced them up to then kiss you and wipe your eyes.

"Better?"

You nodded in between hiccups.

"Let's get you some food."

Morning wasn't as hectic as it used to be, ever since Susan, Mary and James arrived the work load had been evenly distributed. Mostly to be a bit more lenient on you.

The orchard was flourishing, the first herbs were sprouting, and the cattle was on the weekly checkup.

You went to greet Miguel, and Paco called you to the entrance.

"Miss? There is a man looking for you."

"A man? Oh! Right! Let him in."

Paco looked at Miguel that nodded at him, he was already crossing his arms.

"Cerecita?"

"Yes?" Your smile turned wider upon seeing the horse car, passing through the luxurious car leading the small caravan.

"What did you do?"

You giggled and kissed his cheek.

"Your surprise."

"My... My surprise?"

You nodded and pulled him by the hand towards the car. Sergei stepped out, just as his helpers, eyes scrutinizing the place, it'd make a perfect hidden spot he'd use to get away from everything. His attention focused on you once more. The same cologne his nose detected on you, was now impregnated on him.

But Miguel’s eyes forced his eyes to focus on him. Sergei couldn't hide the surprise on his face, he was tall, but your husband taller, beefier and meaner looking.

And for you to handle him like putty made him chuckle. But what man wouldn't fall under your sweetness? Or at least be tempted enough to fall?

Miguel loomed behind you, like a shadow, hands on both of your shoulders, his golden ring shining a bit too bright for Sergei's likings. But this was not his territory, and the man behind you wouldn't hesitate to put him in his place if needed.

"Mrs. O'Hara."

He greeted with a brief and polite nod, along a smile that didn't set right in Miguel's eyes.

"Mr. Kravinoff."

"Please, call me Sergei."

"Right. This is my husband, Miguel."

The handshake was a terrible display of subtleness between both. Miguel had to give the man credit for squeezing as hard as he was. Eyes locked on eachother for a second, devoid of emotion, even though Sergei understood he wasn't the boss, he didn't let Miguel intimidate him.

"A pleasure to meet you at last, Mr. O'Hara."

Miguel nodded and let his hand go.

"I must say, your wife and her offer took me by surprise. But now, I understand the why."

Sergei smiled, a bit of defeat etched in his face but he quickly turned away and motioned both to follow him. Once more you pulled Miguel closer and guided him to face his surprise.

Sergei's helpers pulled with utmost care the ever familiar horse. The reason why you both had met in the first place. Agustín.

Sergei watched you and Miguel from the shadow the car offered and so far he hadn't find anything that dictated you were unhappy. All the opposite, your moonstruck look over the gigantic man just deepened until it morphed into a dashing beam upon seeing his reaction.

Miguel's expression was something he couldn't compete with. He looked genuinely surprised, and he was unable to resist the urge to kiss you, nearly knocking your hat off your pretty head.

And your laugh at seeing your husband happy, had the millionaire casting his eyes down. He was no match for the man right next to you. Even the horse seemed to like him a bit too much. While Agustín had given him cooperation, he didn't go past that. But with Miguel, there was a bond. A precedent, and it showed as the stallion flared and pawed at the floor as soon as Miguel touched him.

All thanks to you. His wife.

Big arms held you so gently and lovingly as he kissed your temple and your heart was melting. You loved eachother, only fools would think otherwise.

Sergei delivered a little presentation card to you, which Miguel took a peek from.

"Are you satisfied, Mrs. O'Hara?"

"Pretty much. Thanks. Thanks for keeping Agustín in great conditions."

"Any animal that goes under my care is treated with respect. As it should."

You smiled at Sergei's words.

"If it's alright, I'd like to give you something."

His eyes looked at Miguel, asking for permission to grant you something else.

"What is it?"

Miguel spoke. His voice deep and borderline raspy.

"Relax, husband." He chuckled while another horse was pulled away from the carriage. A pinto friesian mare.

"You see, since Agustín came under my wing, he took a like to Nina."

The mare immediately trotted over Agustín's side giving a little neigh.

"Oh, but... I only paid for Agustín, Sergei."

Miguel couldn't help but harden his features over his name and the underlying intentions behind his actions.

"I know. But it's a gift. You see, Agustín had been under alot of stress, new place, new routine, and having him separated from Nina would definitely cause a setback into his progress."

"You seem to know alot about animal behaviors, Mr. Kravinoff."

Miguel's tone wasn't mocking or derisive, a bit jealous perhaps but also curious and cautious.

"I'm a collector, sir. And a hunter. Understanding them must be a must for me. Besides, Nina is foaling."

"I see."

"And also, a potential investor if you're willing."

"Property is not on sale."

"Sorry if my words have offended you, but no. Even though is tempting, I can tell it holds unmeasurable value for you.   I respect that."

You hand rubbed on Miguel's lower back, appeasing his rising temper.

"I'm always for the look in business, cattle and horses are my specialty. I will recommend your training services to my friends, if you allow me."

"That would be great, new contacts are always welcomed."

Your chirped as the mare nuzzled your hand. Joseph and James took the horses to the stable.

Sergei shook hands with you and Miguel, and once he left he cupped your cheeks to give you a breathtaking kiss that had you panting and gasping for air.

"You..."

"Me?"

You giggled and kissed again.

"How... much you paid for Agustín, Cerecita?"

"I won't tell. Just needed to get him back for you."

"It's not that I'm not being grateful, but-"

"I know they're not cheap, Miguel. But I wanted to, ok?"

"Don't splurge your money on me, Mi reina."

"You kidding, right?, I know you aren't that comfortable in me splurging. I know things have changed. But I wanted to."

"I'm not mad, ok? I am not angry, just-"

"What?"

"How come you approached him first?"

You couldn't help but giggle, he frowned even though you kissed his cheek.

"Are you jealous?"

"No"

"You're a terrible liar, Miguel."

You smooched him

"I could smell him on you."

"Ah yeah, his cologne was killing me. Had to retch as soon as I saw a bathroom"

He chuckled and fixed the hat on your head.

"I approached him cause James told us his name, and of course I wouldn't let a chance to get Agustín back go. He's your horse."

"An expensive horse, that is"

"But yours again, completely. It's my wedding gift."

He squeezed you in his arms and showered your face with kisses.

"Canija. No sabes cuanto te amo." (You imp, you don't know how much I love you.)

"I think I do have an idea."

"Let me show you."

Sergei steps were heavy the more he ventured in your parent's home. Rosaura's smile faded upon watching his sour expression.

"You never told me your daughter was already married and pregnant, Mrs. Anderton."

Rosaura's eyes widened in discomfort, unable to hold the lie anymore.

"W-What do you mean. She's-"

"I don't like liars."

"Where did you see her?"

"At the bank. Bought me the horse you sold me."

"That brat."

"Brat?" His brows raised on the term, "I saw nothing but a happy couple back there."

"You went to their home?!"

"Why do I feel you're not giving me a true complete picture of what is going on?"

"Sergei, son. Look. That man she is married to used to work here. He was the stable boy. He seduced my daughter and stole her away from-"

Sergei's hand halted her from speaking further.

"I think I will do business elsewhere, Mrs. Anderton. I like my business partners to be sincere in all sense of the word."

"Just give me time, Sergei , I promise to bring her back-"

"It's Mr. Kravinoff for you, madam. And my decision is final. Will communicate with your husband later. Have a good day."

Despite Rosaura's protest, Sergei left. Leaving a fuming and fearful mother behind. She was in trouble with Pastor William. Business were to not messed up, yet she had. Their best client gone.

But you, oh how you infuriated her and made her blood boil.

You had splurged on Miguel. A man you had called your husband. A man that belonged to a family that forced hers to move out from their rightful home a long time ago back in the outskirts of Nueva York.

A family that had stripped her from everything she held dear. Everything under the influence of George O'Hara.

And now his step son had taken you away.

If George was no longer alive to withstand her revenge, someone had to pay. And she decided that Miguel would.

He would pay for the sins of his father. Whether he like it or not.

#miguel o'hara #t writes✨ #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara fluff #Ranchero! Miguel #miguel spiderman #spider man 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 fanfiction #Mi Dulce Cereza #Ranch girl! reader #Spotify

[fourteentheart]

Happy Valentione's Day!

This isn't so much about Valentione's Day than it is about love in general... I think it still captures the spirit of the day, tho! The different ways we can show one another love are vast and plentiful.

Transcript under the readmore.

PAGE 1 [I admit that saying "I love you" does not come naturally to me.]

--

Makoh'to: You want to toast the dried chilies until they develop a bit of a char, like this, then grind them into flakes.

Gaius: My eyes are starting to water...

--

Makoh'to: Make sure to generously season the hamsa breast!

Gaius: (What is considered "generous" ...?)

--

Gaius: Why not use a measuring cup for consistency?

Makoh'to: This bowl works!

Gaius: And if we no longer have that bowl?

Makoh'to: This one would work, too!

--

Makoh'to: Then a handful of diced onions...

Gaius: My hands are larger than yours.

Makoh'to: Hm...

Makoh'to: Two-thirds of your handful will do!

--

[I have told you before "I love you."]

[And you always reply "I love you, too."]

PAGE 2

[I want to tell you "I love you" every day, but it does not feel like enough.]

[Not after everything I have put you through. Asked of you.]

[But if learning new recipes with you...]

[...cooking your favorite foods...]

[... is a way I can say "I love you" then let his be one of the many dishes I will learn to make for you.]

Gaius, in Makoh'to's native tongue: Jao yak khao bor? (Are you hungry?)

Makoh'to, in his native tongue: Ah! Khoi yak khao haeng! (I'm starving!)

[Notes in Gaius's book]

Left Page:

...'to enjoys his food extra spicy

.. for padaek can take...

... out the container in...

Right Page:

One Makoh'to handful is roughly 125 ml

He uses a generous amount of seasoning

Note: He did not find a flat spoonful generous enough

The blue measuring bowl is in the cabinet below the spice rack.

... in lieu of bird's eye chilies

#ffxiv #gaiuswol #gaius x wol #gaius baelsar #wol #wolnpc #ace is done #ace's ffxiv comics

[mamirhodessxox]

😭😭 need a fic of him just in interrupting reader while baking ( reader could be a baker and trying new recipes to add to their menu )

Cherries On Top

Cody Rhodes x Baker Fem!Reader

Desc: Y/N is trying to focus on adding new sweet treats to her bakery’s menu but her husband tends to be a distraction.

Contents: Fluff, Cody being a little annoying but in a tolerable way, SMALL indications of smut, Y/N being a lil cutie Patootie!

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts @adollonyourshelf @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41 @harmshake @femdisa @kabloswrld @claymoresofinfamy23 @jeysbvck

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

Before Y/N & Cody established a relationship between them Y/N had a small little bakery filled with alll sorts of sweets & treats! Once a month she would spend an entire day whipping up pies & cakes and many other scones & sweets to add on the menu at her little bakery & do cooking youtube videos & Today was that day.

Y/N was in the middle of recording in the kitchen, Cody would walk by every now and then or stand behind her and watch over her shoulder to see what she was doing. But then he became more vocal.

She was currently working on a bourbon pound cake. “Don’t you need measuring cups for this part?” He questioned while his hand ran up and down her back while his wife shrugged “I’m just gonna add like a few shot glasses worth of bourbon.” He shot open his eyes and looked over at her camera set up and shook his head dramatically “She’s gonna get me drunk with a cake.” Since he was video bombing Y/N she decided that she would put him to a little work and start stirring the cake mix while she poured bourbon into the mix very carefully & poured him a small shot as a reward which he pridefully took

Y/N was instructing her future viewers how to carefully put the mixture into the pan & how long to leave it in the oven but Cody randomly popped back into the kitchen “Check out my gun.” She looked up as he interrupted her speech & smiled “It’s a salt shooter my dad got it for him.” “Maybe next time I make steak I can season salt onto it with my cool gun yeah?” She shook her head “No because you’re gonna break something. Just use your hands.” He glared for a second and sassily shook his head “I won’t break anything.”

6 minutes later Y/N worked on another small pastry while the cake was in the oven & suddenly the lights started flickering & she laughed a little before he walked back into camera frame “What are you whipping up now?” “Blueberry crois-“ “Hold on wait I have a quick question what did 50 cent do when he was hungry? 58.” “Your not funny.” He shrugged with a smug smile “I’m actually very funny.” She hummed nodding slowly “whatever helps you sleep at night my love.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at a bowl full of flour.

Hmmmm…….

Interesting…..

What if he just….

“CODY GARRET RUNNELS GODDAMNIT I’M GOING TO KILL YOU IN YOUR SLEEP!” Y/N stood there frozen as he actively poured flour over her head while letting out a mischievous laugh “uh ohh she said the full na-“ she splashed him in the face with water “well deserved.” She glared up at him & picked up her bowl filled with yet to be stirred eggs while grinning to herself as her husband backed up and raised his hands in defense “No…Y/N….” She squinted and nodded “your right that would be to messy.” She sighed while he let out a chuckle of relief but she caved & poured the eggs all over him making him gasp and look at her while she giggled & grabbed the flour bag before shaking what remained inside all over him before he turned starring at a glass of milk that sat on the counter next to one of the bowls it was supposed to be inside of.

Eventually she gave up on the video she tried making & giggled while playfully kissing her lover while he grinned biting her lip a little & grip at her waist “You sure you don’t wanna take it any furth-“ she nodded immediately and pulled away before prancing up the stairs to get clean “C’mon Codes your filthy.”

This was just the Cherry On Top for Cody, he immediately tossed away the kitchen towel & followed behind her before giving Y/N a light smack on the butt chuckling

“The shower is your best idea yet sweetheart.”

“Pervert.”

mamirhodessxox’s Masterlist

#mamirhodessxox #cody rhodes #oh my fucking goooood #cody rhodes imagine #cody rhodes fic #cody rhodes x you #cody rhodes smut #wwe imagine #wwe #wwe smackdown #wweedit #wwe edit #wwe jey uso #wwe john cena #wwe gifs #wwe fanfiction #wwe chyna #wwe cody rhodes #wwe superstars #wwe wrestlemania #wwe raw #wwe lb #wwe royal rumble #wwe liveblog #wwe x reader #cody rhodes fanfic #cody rhodes fanfiction #cody rhodes edit #cody wwe #cody rhodes gif

[fairladyinpink]

Pregnancy/Family OTP Prompts

(mentions of abortion, religious abuse, teen pregnancy)

Scenarios:

A waking up at 5 AM riddled with morning sickness. B being woken up by them and following them to hold their hair back and help clean themselves us afterwards. (bonus if they reassure them and that they're not disgusting. not even a bonus, should be the bare minimum)

"You know what would be bomb right now?" "What?" "Strawberries and cream cheese, right? Then, like, cover them in hot Cheeto dust." A looks at B with a look of mild disgust and confusion, but then remembers that it's just a weird, weird pregnancy craving. A goes to the store to get them because whatever B wants, B gets.

B was rather envious of A's natural parental instincts. The way they got the baby to giggle and coo so effortlessly. The way they could rock them to sleep within minutes. The way they could feed them without any hiccups and the way they could change diapers in a flash. One day, A had to leave for a few hours, leaving B alone with the baby. When they returned, A found the house a mess. Food splattered across the kitchen, toys and blocks strewn across the house, and B, on the verge of tears, trying to calm the screaming baby. After cleaning up the mess, A lets B talk about their frustrations and insecurities, reassuring them that they're an amazing parent.

Cooking/baking something together and B accidentally measures incorrectly and A has to correct them. Due to B's heightened emotions, they start crying and A has to comfort them.

Getting corny shirts for B like "waiting on player 3" or "beauty and the bump".

Watching an usually stoic and mean B coddle and play with their new baby, admiring how soft and nurturing they could be.

After a long day of walking and being on their feet, A is finally home and able to relax. What they didn't expect is was B to have their most recent craving prepared for them, a warm bubble bath ran, and their favorite TV series set up with B massaging their feet. It was at this moment where they realized just how lucky they were to be B's partner.

Wearing matching costumes for holidays.

They were both only 17. They couldn't raise a baby. They weren't ready for it. They planned to hide it until they got enough money for an abortion until A's overly religious parents realize they've been sick for a little too long. Now they were forced to raise it.

A being extremely overprotective of A due to their pregnancy. B always complains about it but secretly loves it.

B having to set limits and hide the coffee maker during A's pregnancy because although A denies it, they're no better than a drug addict when it comes to coffee.

^ Alternately: A is an avid coffee drinker who literally can't function without a cup of coffee each morning. B hates coffee, and the adversity only grew when they got pregnant. It got so bad that even the smell of it would have B throwing up once again.

A's water breaks and B is panicking. You'd think B was the one giving birth the way they kept pacing back and forth. A remains calm through their contractions and labour pains since they can't both be freaking out in the delivery room. Something snaps inside of B when they notice A forcing themselves to smile and joke through the intense pain they were going through to try and calm A down.

A got home from a long, exhausting day at work to find B sitting on the floor by the door asleep. A puts up their things before picking up B and carrying them, waking them up. "Oh, you're home. I was waiting for you but I guess I fell asleep and- Wait, how are you holding me? Aren't I too heavy?" "Of course not, love. No weight is "too heavy" when it comes to you."

The severity of the situation didn't hit A until they saw the nursery, the one that B had been protecting and hiding from them for months. B had uncovered their eyes and awaited their reaction. What they didn't expect was full-on tears, tears of fear, uncertainty, and joy. They were having a baby together. They were going to start a family together.

Dialogues:

"S/he gets their looks from you, definitely." "Is that a good thing or bad thing?" "No comment."

"[name], I have something to tell you but I'm not sure how you'll react and I don't want you to be mad and-" "Hey, it's okay, just spit it out." "Well . . . we're having a baby."

"I'm not sure if I can hide this pregnancy any longer." "I'm surprised you still can, to be honest. You look like you're smuggling a small watermelon under there."

"What?! You're pregnant??? You can't be, we're only 17!"

"You said heartbeats? Plural? As in more than one?"

"The baby's kicking! You wanna feel?"

"Look how tiny her/his feet are!"

"We need a break." "It's only been a week since they were born." "Neither of us have showered, had a full meal, nor slept since we came home." "Maybe we could use a couple of hours to ourselves."

"I believe in you, you can do this- we can do this."

"I'm having a big-ass drink after this baby born, I hope you know that."

"It's almost like you're glowing." "I don't know what the fuck you're seeing, but it is definitely not a glow. "

"You're going to be an amazing mother/father, I just feel it."

"I've never seen clothes/shoes this small before!"

"I'm not going to shatter into tiny pieces if I pick up a box. I'm not fragile, I'm pregnant." "There's a difference?"

"I still love you, [name], all of you. Stretch marks, spit-up covered shirts and all."

"It's like their fist-fighting my fucking uterus." "At least they'll be strong, just like daddy." "They'll also be all brawn and no brain, if we're going by that."

"Just a few more weeks, you can do it." "I'm not so sure."

"We should name them [really weird and absurd name]." "How about we not do that?"

"Do you know who the father is?" "No, but they kind of look like [ex], don't they?"

"Do you think we can do this? Raise a kid?" "I mean, look at us, we can barely take care of ourselves. We might not be the best at it, but we can definitely do it together." "You're so cheesy, it's sickening. Speaking of sickness, excuse me for a moment."

#writing prompt #prompts #pregnancy prompt #family prompts #domestic prompts #dialogue #dialogue prompt #otp prompts #story ideas #prompt list #writing dialogue

[demodoggonetired]

It's a quiet night in with just the two of them - Wayne having already left for work. A gentle drizzle has settled over the trailer park.

Eddie's hunched over at his desk with the old table lamp on, painting his latest miniature for the upcoming campaign. Steve's perched on the bed right near him, using that same lamp light to read one of Wayne's magazines. A tape randomly picked from their collection plays in the background.

There's a quiet 'clink' as Eddie rinses his brush in the paint-water cup (newly labeled after one to many mix-ups). The brush is dried then slotted into the cracked mug holding the rest of his painting tool hoard.

He pauses to stretch out his back from its scrunched position, scars giving a minor twinge at the action. Then reaches for his small, detailing brush.

Only, it's not where he put it last.

It's not on the pallet. Didn't slip under the paper towel. Sitting in the paintbrush mug? Nope. Roll onto the floor? No dice. (Well actually, many dice. Including the d8 he lost last week, he should remember to grab that later (he won't)).

It's as he's pulling his head back out from under the desk that he notices it.

The subtle, upturned pinch at the corner of Steve's mouth.

Like he's fighting not to smile. Trying to act like he hasn't noticed Eddie's obvious searching.

"Steve?"

"Mhm?" The thief doesn't even deign to look up from the magazine.

"Have you seen my small detail brush? Bright red handle?”

"Nope."

Right, of course. Because the hand Steve wasn't using to hold his magazine just happened to be tucked behind his back, out of sight.

Clearly this called for drastic measures.

Without giving the other a chance to react, Eddie lurches forward to push his boyfriend back onto the bed, simultaneously planting himself atop Steve's legs.

"You sure about that one, loverboy?"

Steve crinkles his nose with a slight blush at the pet name. Then reaches up with the hand that previously held the magazine (that has now ended up in the abyss of the floor, sorry Wayne).

Eddie stills, curious to see how Steve will defend himself, as the hand continues up... and plucks the missing paintbrush from behind Eddie's ear. Where Eddie had earlier, unthinkingly stashed it.

Steve's face breaks out into a grin at Eddie's affronted noise.

"What do you have to say for yourself now, Eds? Accusing your boyfriend of such a heinous crime?"

Eddie hums, rolling the now reclaimed brush in his fingers, staring down at the boy beneath him. His sure-fire grin. Eyes crinkled in mirth. How the soft lamp light and dappled moonlight played across his features.

He leans down, hovering over the other.

"I say that I'd forgive you anyway. How could I not, with such a pretty face like that."

They meet in a gentle kiss. No rush as they simply enjoy the other's company. Warm in the knowledge there's nowhere else they need to be tonight. The tape clicks as it finishes and the rain becomes their only background noise. They seperate.

"Mmgood. Cause I did steal your paint tube."

#Showing affection by temporarily stealing your loved ones things until they give you attention #Damn y’all this is the first fic of any kind I’ve written since like 2013 or so?? #Both of which were very somft #Steddie #steddie fic #steddie drabble #Stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #My posts #My writing #wow didn’t expect to ever have a writing tag lol

[queenimmadolla]

For the blurb thing

Eddie

Bath

Fluff

𝐝𝐚𝐝!𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞, 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲 '𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 ─ because i don't want to keep track of a bunch of different dad!eddies

“This is fucking gross.” 

“Well, you smell gross. So.”

Eddie huffed, brows furrowed in irritation as he leaned his back against the shower tile. The baby in his arms slapped her palms furiously against the red mixture of water and tomato juice filling your small tub, the splashback splattering across Eddie’s face.

He looked ridiculous. You’d already taken the pictures. 

The trailer was lucky enough to be equipped with a small…tub of sorts. Really, it seemed to be only suitable for children, no grown adult could bath comfortably in one of these. 

Yet, here Eddie found himself, folded up in it with his knees poking out, no leg room, no back room–his ‘lean’ put him at a 92 degree angle, if he was lucky– holding a one year old, who had most definitely already peed in the mixture.

So, now he was sitting in tomato juice, water and piss.

Eddie was not happy.

“There we go,” You sang, as you poured the last can, tapping the bottom of it for good measure.

“Is that necessary?” He snapped. 

You took no offense, eyes wary as you eyed him from top to knee before locking eyes again, “You need every drop.”

Then you pinched your nose and Eddie rolled his eyes.

What had been a promising start to family day at the park–picnic basket, copy of a new book you’d picked out at the bookstore in town with a couple of penny’s favorite blocks to beat into the ground, in hand–quickly turned disastrous when Eddie had taken Penny over to a tree she’d been pointing towards and babbling at while you set up the blanket, and the two of them had promptly been sprayed by a skunk hiding behind the tree trunk.

You’d heard a lot of screaming and squealing. Penny even yelled out once.

The car ride back was agony, having the front windows rolled down and the back ones propped open didn’t help, you’d had to stick your head out the window, uncaring about other people in passing cars. If being compared to a dog meant you didn’t have to smell your husband and baby, you’d bark.

Eddie had to stand outside the trailer holding Penny while you rummaged around for a Wellness magazine you’d seen the measurements for a tomato juice bath in once. When you appeared in the doorway, magazine clutched in your hands and held in the air victoriously, Eddie and Penny got to go inside while you took your car–and not his stinky van–to the market to pick up some tomato juice.

Eddie hadn’t been willing to sit in it. If it weren’t for Penny, you would have had to chase him around the trailer but you'd been able to gaslight him into thinking Penny wouldn’t like this particular bath since it wasn’t just water. A low blow since you knew how distressed he got when she cried.

So he’d gotten in. And Penny was having the freaking time of her young life.

“Do you like your bath, baby?” You cooed, leaning forward as she beamed up at you, toothless mouth open wide with her smile and those big brown eyes of hers sparkling. All because it was you talking to her, she loved you so much, “Yeah, awww, such a good stinky girl, huh?”

Penny squealed in agreement, hands slapping down against the water again, making Eddie flinch. Then she wiggled, chubby arms reaching out to you, asking you to pick her up and hold her but you quickly ran out of the breath you were holding so you yanked yourself back for a breather. The car ride might have got you a little familiar with their scent but you weren’t nose blind. 

Eddie took offense, “How long do we have to sit in this?”

“Until you don’t stink.” You scooped some of the mixture up in a plastic cup and poured it over his head, trying not to laugh at the frenzied look on his face.

Penny didn’t hide it, she laughed openly, turning so she could be sure to make eye contact with her daddy. She got the same hair treatment, but she was used to having her hair washed this way, she loved it. 

“And exactly how long is that, dearest?” That had been the closest he’d been to calling you a bitch.

“Uhm,” You gave Penny the cup to play with while you wiped your hand off and picked up the magazine resting on the small sink counter. It had been open, you scanned past the measurements until you reached the set time, “twenty minutes.”

Eddie was about to launch into complaints when he noticed your slight frown and the furrow in your brows.

“Huh.” Is all you said, head cocking to the side

“What?”

You were silent for a moment, reading the sentence over again in your head before you read aloud, “Does not eliminate or neutralize odor.”

“WHAT!?”

“I know right? Why would they provide the measurements for the tomato juice and water ratio if it doesn’t even work? Is this an amateur? Some sucker is walking around, thousands of dollars in debt with a degree in journalism, only to write about myt–”

“GET ME OUT!”

#last of the baby blurbs from the first round are gonna start going out #vivi's baby blurbs #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #pennyverse #dad!eddie #girl dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fluff #stranger things #eddie munson blurb