Scrumptious well written food
89 and 90 for grumpy boy keef please? I love your blog so much!!!! 😍
Anonymous said: thank you for doing those requests! i feel bad about requesting so much from you ;; but like, that prompt list you posted have many ideas, so I’m coming back (the entirety of 51+ sounds so much like lance) // but for now, 89 & 90 for keith? c:
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89. “Aaand, they fell asleep. On top of me. Great.”
90. “You’re like a cat, but 97 times cuter.”
—
You jump, startled, when Keith yanks open the door to your room and stomps to your bed, his brows knotted in a frown and murder shining brightly in his eyes.
He crawls onto your bed, still keeping his lips firmly shut, wrapping his arms around your waist and plopping his head in your lap, making himself comfortable and closing his eyes when he did. Shifting slightly, you sit up a little straighter against the wall, your fingers automatically finding their way to Keith’s hair. He takes a deep breath, and you can feel the tension seeping from his shoulders and leaving his body entirely.
“You still have your shoes on,” you chuckle, lightly brushing locks of dark hair out of Keith’s face. He doesn’t loosen his grip on your waist, only kicking off his boots, and you shake your head with a smile.
“Long day?”
“Hm,” Keith grunts, tightening his hold and burying his face in your shirt. “I just… I wanna nap.”
A laugh rolls past your lips and you ruffle his hair, secretly adoring the tousled look and the startled squawk that Keith lets out as he tries to swat your hand away. He scowls at you, his lips in a pout so exaggerated it’s almost comical. You peck him on the nose.
“You’re like a cat, but ninety-seven times cuter.”
Keith lets himself fall back into your lap. “Only ninety-seven?” he asks, voice muffled by your clothes.
“Ninety-seven. And not one more.”
“That’s fair.”
It’s silent for a bit, and you play with his hair a bit more, taking small sections and braiding them before grabbing another lock and braiding that too. It’s a habit of yours that developed over time–you’d always liked messing with his hair, and you knew for a fact that he secretly liked the little braids too, even though he pretended he didn’t. It was easy to see through him.
“Lie down for a bit. Cuddle with me.”
“I am cuddling with you.”
“Y/N,” Keith whines, tugging at your sleeves.
“Fine.”
As soon as you settle down, Keith snakes his arms around your waist again and plops down onto your chest, just like a cat would, tangling his legs with yours. He even snored slightly in his sleep, you know, and you bite back a grin; it sounded like a cat purring. It was more noticeable when he was really tired–like right now.
“You need to stop overworking yourself,” you say into his hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.
“Hm. There’s just… a lot to be done, and there’s the Blade…”
“I know, but you don’t have to get everything done all at once. Missions with the Blade always wear you out, you should rest a bit in between.” You’d often find him snoring at his desk, his files still spread out and his fingers holding a pen or pencil. You know it’s useless to try and wake him up when he’s like that–he’d sleep for hours before you even had a chance of waking him up.
“Shiro doesn’t rest.”
“Shiro does rest. I make him. He’s almost as bad as you, but at least he knows when to stop.”
“I’m resting now, aren’t I?”
“I’m serious, Keith. It’s unhealthy to push yourself like that all the time.”
Keith groans. “I just wanted a nap, not a scolding.”
“I’m not scolding you,” you scoff, playfully tugging at his hair, “I’m just saying that you have to take better care of yourself.”
“I count that as a scolding.”
“You’re such a baby.”
Keith takes another deep breath, and you hear your own steady heartbeat resonating in your ears, and you close your eyes too. Your fingers find their way back to Keith’s hair, resuming the little braids. After a while, you feel the subtle shift in Keith’s breathing, and you curse softly.
“Aaand, he fell asleep. On top of me. Great,” you mutter under your breath, trying to shift out of his arms, but your efforts are futile. Keith has an iron grip, even more so in his sleep. Someone could shoot a cannon next to him right now and he wouldn’t wake up.
Naturally, the only thing you could do now was follow suit, and you shifted into a more comfortable position, still grumbling half-hearted curses when you close your eyes.
Imagine your children in the same situation as mine!! ☹️
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