#bite size ficbits

[chantillyxlacey]

#7 or #98 for the drabble challenge! :D

“Well, that’s tragic.“ / “The store ran out of Easter eggs.”

“The store ran out of Easter eggs,” Belle announced mournfully before they were even entirely through the door. Cayenne pouted silently in Lewis’ arms as he smiled and shrugged at their mother.

“The truck that was supposed to deliver the dairy stock to the Spratley’s last night was in a wreck. The driver was fine but the eggs were beyond saving.”

Tempo being as small as it was, Spratley’s Market was really the only feasible option for groceries, unless you were willing to drive an hour out (and that was being optimistic about the traffic) to Ritmo where the nearest megamart was. It wasn’t a journey Lewis was keen to brave with two grumpy and disappointed girls in tow.

“Well, that’s tragic,” Lucinda Pepper nodded in solemn agreement as she spooned another bite of baby food into Paprika’s waiting mouth. “I suppose we’ll just have to make our own, this year.”

“Gan’t *mage* eggsh,” Cayenne mumbled around her thumb– a habit she’d almost let go of except when times were as dire as this. Lewis delicately tugged it out of her mouth before she continued. “We’re people, not chickens.”

“Are you sure?” Lewis grinned, juggling her in the crook of his elbow. “I bet if I tickled you enough you might lay an egg eventually.” With his free hand he demonstrated, sending Cayenne into fits of protest between squealing laughter. Belle snickered behind her hands, completely unsympathetic to her sister’s plight, and Paprika, not one to ever be left out of a good time, shrieked jubilantly and drummed on her high chair tray.

Once the joyful noise died down to muted giggling, Lewis set Cayenne down and crossed the kitchen, pecking his mother on the cheek and taking over feeding the baby.

“You’re talking about those egg-shaped chocolate molds from the Duck Walk a couple years ago, right? I didn’t know we still had those,” he said, wagging the mermaid-shaped spoon in front of Paprika until she opened her mouth like a baby bird.

“They’re in the downstairs kitchen. No use throwing out perfectly good tools just because there’s not an immediate use in sight.” Mrs. Pepper pulled out silicone mats and double boilers from the cabinet, started filling the pans with water to set to boil.

Belle and Cayenne had caught on, and the prospect of making chocolate eggs had their faces so bright with excitement that it was almost hard to believe they’d ever been downhearted about a single thing in their lives.

“We won’t be able to make as many,” Mrs. Pepper cautioned as she brought out twin containers of milk and white chocolate. “Since they take more time and work. Two each. But we can make them fancy enough to make up for it,” she finished with a smile and a wink.

“Yes, mama!” the girls chorused, grins ear to ear. They didn’t notice Lewis mouthing it along with them, pulling a face at the baby to make her laugh so he could sneak the last spoonful of squash into her mouth.

“I’ll let you take credit for mine, chickadee,” he told her, delicately ruffling the downy fuzz on her head.

[chantillyxlacey]

A little Arthur POV drabble for y’all! This isn’t even long enough to really count as a fic tbh and there’s more that I’d planned to go with it but it stands well enough on its own, I think; and the other stuff is going to take more time than I’d anticipated so here’s this for now!

It’s not rrrreally nsfw but there are pretty direct references to a sex or two happening so probably not something you’d wanna read in front of your grandma

It probably wouldn’t bother him as much if the dreams were just about sex. People had sex dreams about people they knew all the time-- people had sex dreams about strangers. It didn’t necessarily mean anything.

What really got to Arthur, was that in these dreams Vivi would twine their fingers together and lean her forehead on his, keeping eye contact. That she’d pull silly faces in an effort to make him laugh even as her body moved over his like a tide. That she’d pause mid-grind or mid-lick or mid-kiss to tell him about something interesting she’d read and just remembered. That when they’d fallen still in a breathless tangle of limbs she would trace the shell of his ear with one finger and say his name so that it sounded like a treasure.

In those dreams Lewis would stop before sinking down into him and just look, expression soft and tenderly awestruck, just like how he often looked at Vivi. He’d murmur or whisper or moan little endearments into the skin of Arthur’s throat or inner thigh or his mouth and he’d swear he could taste Lewis’ sweet words. And afterwards he’d scoop Arthur close against the broad expanse of his chest and nuzzle into Arthur’s hair and hum softly, something tuneless.

Sex dreams would be one thing, but these-- when he has these dreams he wakes up with the space between his lungs aching worse than the one between his legs. 

Because in these dreams they love him, and that’s a hurt Arthur just doesn’t know how to deal with.