#fluff is hard

So sorry this took a min, I've been having a week lol. Also, uh, fluff isn't my strong suit so sorry if this isn't the best.

<One Hell of a Day>

Being a functioning, working human being was never usually something that came hard for you. At least, not that you usually allowed anyone to see. This had, admittedly, been something your boyfriend had been trying to work on with you. Today was horrible, work was horribly busy, traffic was hell, and people sucked.

You walk into your apartment, the door closing behind you a bit too hard for it to be perceived as something normal. From the kitchen, you hear something hit the counter. The smell of cooking food hits your nose before your eyes find V, at the stove, cooking something.

"What are you making?" You ask, body slumping slightly against your doorway.

"I went shopping today, so I figured we'd have some spaghetti." He responds, voice level. "You sound exhausted. Would you like to sit down? I can take care of everything."

"No, no, I'll help." You insist stubbornly. V hums, a doubtful sound, but he doesn't move to argue with you as you walk to the counter. You spot some carrots off to the side, waiting to be cut and placed in the nearby salad.

"Careful, dear." He warns, his back to you still. You don't respond, going to pick up the knife.

Seconds later, as though to spite your stubbornness, the knife slips. The cut is small, alongside the side of your thumb, where you had been stupidly holding the blade. Without a word, V is on you. He wraps his arms around your body, holding you close, and grabbing the knife.

"I told you to be careful." He states simply. "Let me help you, my love. Please."

Despite yourself, you allow him to guide you to sit at the kitchen table. He leaves and returns in two minutes, carrying a medical kit. Skillfully, he cleans and dresses the soft wound.

"I will finish dinner. Please just wait, okay? I do not need help, and I want to do this for you. Please." He says, holding your injured hand gently.

"...fine." You relent, feeling the tiredness of the day suck the last remains of fight from your body. V hums quietly as he works. True to his word, the food is done ten minutes later without a hitch. He serves the food, and kisses your forehead.

"Thank you, love."

Afterwards, the two of you cuddle on the couch watching your favorite movie. He holds you closely, tenderly, as though you are the only important thing to him. Occasionally, he will kiss your forehead, as though to wordlessly remind you of his love for you.

==================================================

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

Choi Jung Soo slumped over his desk, a mountain of paperwork threatening to bury him alive. He had fallen a week behind on his reports and reviews, and the deadline was looming dangerously close. With a groan, he rubbed his temples and glanced over at Kim Rok Soo, who was diligently working on his tasks.

"Rok Soo-ya," Choi Jung Soo called out weakly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kim Rok Soo looked up from his paperwork, raising an eyebrow. "What is it, Jung Soo?"

Choi Jung Soo straightened up and clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture. "Please, Rok Soo, I need your help. I'm drowning in reports, and I can't catch up on my own."

Kim Rok Soo leaned back in his chair, contemplating the request. "Why should I help you? What's in it for me?"

Choi Jung Soo's eyes widened with desperation. "I'll do anything! Just name it!"

A sly grin spread across Kim Rok Soo's face. "Alright, I'll help you on one condition. You have to pay for my lunch and dinner for the entire week."

Choi Jung Soo's jaw dropped. "A whole week? That's extortion!"

Kim Rok Soo shrugged nonchalantly. "Take it or leave it. I'm not doing all this work for free."

Choi Jung Soo groaned but realized he had no other choice. "Fine, you win. I'll pay for your meals for a week. But you better help me finish all these reports."

"Deal," Kim Rok Soo said, extending his hand.

Choi Jung Soo shook it reluctantly, grumbling under his breath. "You're such a swindler, Rok Soo."

Kim Rok Soo chuckled as he moved over to Choi Jung Soo's desk and started sifting through the paperwork. "It's called knowing my worth. Now, let's get to work."

The two of them worked late into the night, Kim Rok Soo guiding Choi Jung Soo through the maze of reports and reviews. Despite his grumpiness, Choi Jung Soo was grateful for the help. By the time they finished, a significant dent had been made in the paperwork pile.

As they finally packed up to leave, Choi Jung Soo sighed in relief. "Thanks, Rok Soo. I owe you one."

"You owe me lunch and dinner for a week," Kim Rok Soo corrected with a smirk.

Choi Jung Soo rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't get all proud of yourself."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Kim Rok Soo replied, patting Choi Jung Soo on the back. "Come on, let's get some rest. We've got another busy day tomorrow."

Peter POV experiencing topspace for the first time. With Quentin or Tony?

Foot kink of some sort: Peter with Tony or Quentin? Whose POV?

Post heat aftercare - who’s the omega: Tony, Peter, or Quentin? And who’s the alpha? POV? Solved!

Merry Christmas @spider-momo​ !! Here is your gift for the @mlsecretsanta​!! I hope that you like it! No heroes were harmed in the writing of this story (a few cookies were, but I figured that was alright!) Christmas in Paris was one of Marinette’s favorite times of year. She loved how everyone was that much kinder, smiles that much quicker in coming. The lights seemed to twinkle brighter in the soft chill of the air, and, if they were very lucky, a few snowflakes would fall, lending a sense of ethereal beauty to the scene. 

To her, one of the best parts of the season was the gifts shared between friends and loved ones. Marinette prided herself on finding, or more often making, just the right gift for everyone. Naturally, she added sweets for everyone along with handmade hats and scarves, hand-drawn images of favorite superheroes or handmade jewelry. 

Her friends had made plans to gather a few days after Christmas to exchange gifts with each other, and it was joyously agreed to meet at the bakery where Tom and Sabine would ply them with sweet treats and hot cocoa. They had drawn names for a Secret Santa exchange, although Marinette had knitted them each hats and mittens, as well as baked them matching macarons. 

Dreamswap by Onebizarrekai

-

They had a mutual agreement to keep their relationship out of public eye. Not exactly secret, per se - especially since Nightmare, Cross, and Ink knew they were, as Ink put it, ‘sucking face’ - but Error shied away from the unwanted clout of being ‘the CEO’s boyfriend’ and Dream was afraid of such information getting into the wrong hands.

It was fairly easy to be discreet - despite Nightmare’s insistence that anyone who looked could see them making heart eyes at each other - they found times to be alone and uninterrupted, where they could speak freely and bask in each other’s company. On sleepless nights, the two of them wandered the castle halls together in companionable silence, occasionally broken by whispers.

Error reminded him of Ani, in a bittersweet way. It was something Dream learned in little ways as they got to know each other. He had their kindness and emotional wisdom, a kind of unpronounced strength that was achingly familiar.

Dream would often see him at the orphanage, and watch or greet Error when he spoke with the children or brought supplies. Error admitted to him that for years he had dropped off hand-knitted items in secret; that it was nice to see that the kids he had helped from afar were doing well.

When they were still only friends Dream had found himself unsure if he could - or should - pursue a relationship with Error when he saw someone else in him. He still held Ani in his heart, and didn’t think he could give up their memory in order to be with someone. It had taken weeks (and a few pointed talks from his brother) for Dream to open up again to the idea, to find the unique threads of Error’s personality that he had fallen in love with, and realise that he loved him for more than a reflection of one long dead.

One sleepless night he found Error walking the halls, and from the smudged darkness under his eyes Dream guessed he couldn’t sleep either.

Somehow they got to talking under the moonlight. Error listened when Dream started to explain, and although he had not spoken of Ani in years the words came easier as he talked. He missed them, their death had been too soon, they had deserved better. He explained the sun necklace he never went without.

Error was understanding (gentle, even) with his feelings. He didn’t ask Dream to give up his love for Ani to love someone else. When they broached the subject of a relationship, both agreed to take things slowly.

Error grew more comfortable slowly, as he had - and still did - with Nightmare and Cross. He brushed arms with him casually, leaned into Dream’s side when they were near each other, gave him small, precious smiles and little signs of contentment as he relaxed in Dream’s presence. Even as Error frequented light touches and delicate, forewarned affection, Dream preferred to let Error initiate contact and decide what he was comfortable with, not wanting to push him. Error seemed to appreciate the consideration.

Walking together on sleepless nights became something they shared - more often than was probably healthy, really, but Dream didn’t need to sleep much and Error claimed he was used to insomnia - and Dream had soon showed Error his favourite nooks of the castle to sit by moonlight, his favourite places in the garden. He didn’t expect to have overmuch in common with Error, but in whispered exchanges Error shared his own stories, half remembered loss and trust, building a purpose out of himself that mirrored Dream’s own.

The first time Error asked to hold his hand Dream felt a little starstruck. Their hands cradled each other’s lightly, and Dream felt soft tingling in his chest like warm bursts of stardust. They had stolen a moment out of sight, meeting in Dream’s room, and when Error pulled his hands away he happily informed Dream that his face was glowing as brightly as his wings, or rather ‘brighter than a burning lemon’, which had them both snickering quietly, even as Dream hid his face in his hands. Although, it was Error’s turn to blush when Dream quietly told him that his handholding felt like butterfly kisses.

The first time Error kissed him, the warmth in his chest spread and filled his entire body, and when Error leaned back he gave a wispy laugh and told him that he glowed. Dream fluffed his wings and grumbled indignantly at the comment, but couldn’t exactly contest it, feeling the warmth in his face. He returned a kiss to Error’s forehead as the other leaned against him, and although his cheeks dimmed their blazing yellow the warmth in his chest settled into his soul.

Attempting to keep their relationship private meant their main havens were Dream’s office and his room, with Error’s room being declared off-limits by a very disgruntled Cross, who had only barely warmed up to Dream in the months since they had stopped legally being enemies.

In his office, Dream found himself doing paperwork more frequently in his armchair than at his desk, as it was larger and could accommodate two people comfortably. And although Error still avoided excessive touch, he would occasionally join Dream on the armchair, if only for a few minutes.

Speaking of which, Error chose that moment to arrange himself on the armchair, sprawled beside and on top of Dream. Error tucked his head under Dream’s chin, taking a look at the page he was reading. Dream did his utmost best to not turn into a sunlamp. He tentatively rested his head on Error’s, relaxing after a moment when Error showed no sign of discomfort, and went back to his work with a smile. His wings curled delicately around them.

Without bothering to knock Ink poked his head around the door, holding a stack of papers.

“You two are gooier than valentines chocolates.” he informed them.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Dream replied absently. Error shifted to peck a pointed kiss on his cheek, leaving a warm spark behind, then unfolded and stood from the armchair.

“Seeya, lovebirds.” Ink stuck his tongue out and left the paperwork on the desk as Error flopped in the unattended seat. He was quiet from a moment, then swung his head to look at Dream.

“Mm, now I want gooey chocolates.”

Blueberry Sibs AU

TW: None

AO3

~

Yusuke picks up the scattered pages of his sketchbook, holding back tears. Countless drawings were completely ruined.

“What happened?” Minato asks as soon as Yusuke comes home.

“Nothing new,” Yusuke shrugs, “the other kids stole my sketchbook and made fun of me.”

Naoto looks up from her book and frowns. “I can talk to the teachers.”

Minato shakes his head. “Don’t bother. We’re moving again.”

The news isn’t a surprise to Yusuke. His backpack is still in the corner, barely unpacked since they’d come to stay with their most recent… cousin? Uncle? Did it matter?

“Who are we staying with now?” Naoto asks.

“No one. I got a scholarship to a boarding school. Gekkoukan.”

Naoto gasps. “We’re going back to Iwatodai?”

Minato nods.

Yusuke knows Iwatodai holds more memories for them than it does him. He wasn’t even a year old during that fateful night on the Moonlight Bridge after all. The few times Minato had really talked about it left Yusuke curious to see the man-made island.

“We can come with you?” Yusuke asks.

“Yeah, I made sure we’d all be able to stay in the same dorm.” Minato says.

“Where will we go to school?”

“Gekkoukan has a middle school and junior high connected to it, right?” Naoto says.

Minato shrugs. “I guess, I just made sure we’d stay together.”

“So, when do we go?”

“We’ve got train tickets for next Tuesday.”

Naoto raises an eyebrow. “That’s fast. Someone excited for us to arrive or excited to get rid of us.”

Minato says nothing, and slips on his headphones. Naoto sighs and goes over to the computer, pulling up the Gekkoukan website.

“Hey, Yusuke look! They’ve got some cool art facilities.”

Yusuke frowns. “I dunno if I wanna do art,” he mutters.

“Why? I thought you liked it.”

“The other kids always make fun of me. Or call me creepy.” Yusuke knows his transcripts are full of teachers’ notes calling him “disturbed” for drawing green skies and cities of coffins. Even when Minato and Naoto had finally managed to explain to him that no, not everyone knew about that so he shouldn’t bring it up, he’d still been teased for preferring to sketch his classmates than join them on the playground.

“Well, it’s a clean slate!” Naoto says.

Yusuke pouts. “It’s always a clean slate, and it never changes.”

“It’s a school full of rich people! Do you know the kind of art supplies they can afford? I bet you can get oils and charcoal and the really fancy stuff.”

“Would they allow a middle schooler to use all that?” Yusuke asks hesitantly.

“Even if they didn’t, you’ve got an hour to work on it every night.” Minato suggests.

Naoto moves aside, letting Yusuke get a closer look at the Gekkoukan website.

“Well… it would be nice to try some nice materials” Yusuke says.