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ohitslen · 9 months

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Sharing a meal

I wrote something for this below the cut if you’re interested :)

They never eat anything too tasty, surviving with packeted rations and canned food in their journey. Sometimes they would stop at a little restaurant and eat a nice meal; it really tasted like something gourmet after days of going with grain bars and dry jerky.

There were fleeting moments in between conversations in which one of them would remember some dish, from back in the day when things were easier and they didn’t worry about too many things. They never went deeper into the topic, just mentioning how they missed a good meal.

Staying at an inn or any motel was an expensive thing to pay for. However sometimes they had some extra money from an odd job Vash did or from Wolfwood’s undertaker services, and they would always rent a room as a treat for themselves.

It was a surprise when they entered the room and saw a small kitchen. The space was a little too cramped but it had everything they needed, it was like a deluxe room when they though about all the places they had been at. None of them had a kitchen at all, maybe they had a tiny stove or a mini fridge, perhaps a table sometimes but never the whole set together.

They both looked at each other to confirm they really were seeing the thing, smiling excitedly.

They could make a meal for themselves.

Vash knew how to cook, he had done some work on kitchens throughout his life. A few times he helped Rem when he was a child, he knows how to defend himself. Yet he didn’t know any recipes by heart, not any that would be inside their budget at least. He could get creative and probably whip up a thing or two if he was given enough time.

“I know what to do” Wolfwood said with a smile that irradiated a melancholic warmth interrupting his thoughts . A smile Vash had only seen when he talked about the things he loved.

Vash didn’t suggest anything in the end and just followed what the other man told him to do.

He went to buy all the things Wolfwood asked him for. Vegetables and some thoma meat. There seemed to be some spices in the room so he only bought garlic and onion as per Wolfwood’s request.

When Vash got back, he found Nick at the table arranging the ingredients the kitchen already had. He was already showered, hair messy and with droplets of water hanging on the tips. Getting closer, he could smell the soap, the cheap shampoo and the lingering scent of nicotine that never seemed to go away. He was changed into a black, long sleeved shirt and a pair of loose dark blue pants.

His overall appearance made Vash think how the edges of the man were less sharp, he seemed more relaxed and at ease, even if it wasn’t entirely the case. He just looked, soft.

“Hey welcome back, did you bring what I asked you for or will I have to use your meat for this?” Wolfwood greeted him without looking up from his task, the ingredients being the most interesting thing in the world it seemed.

Something warm pooled at the pit of Vash’s stomach, he didn’t know why that was and didn’t bother to think about it either, just enjoying the feeling.

Smiling, he placed the bags on the table in front of Wolfwood, taking out its contents. “I’m sure I brought everything yeah, I hope my life can be spared”.

The priest snorted at him and grabbed a potato that was rolling off the table. “Aight then, make yourself useful and start washing these and then chop ‘em to reasonable bitable sizes”. Losing no time, he took the meat and was cutting it while giving out the instructions.

While Vash was washing and chopping, the other was already preparing the meat putting it in a pot with boiling water. Once Vash was finished with all he was asked to do, Wolfwood ushered him to take a shower while the food was done, wanting to have more space in the narrow place. Vash did as told in that as well.

The shower felt great, all of the gross stickiness from the sweat and other things were finally washed off from his body. He felt light and a thousand times more content.

As he opened the door the smell hit him in the face, a delicious scent that surely tasted even better. Wolfwood was stirring the pot, poking some of the potatoes to make sure they were on the right term, and they seemed to be as he turned off the stove.

Vash got closer, mouth already watering just from the thought of how it’d taste “That smells so good! What did you make?” He asked with a big grin plastered all over his face.

Wolfwood pointed at the table with his hand, signaling him to sit down a little dismissively while he looked for the bowls on his own. It seemed like he was the kind that with less people on the kitchen when he was there, the better. “Just a broth, nothing too wow it’s something easy, and on budget”. Vash hummed with wonder and served two cups of water to busy himself with something.

Wolfwood poured the two servings of the broth, it was still hot and the bowl must surely be scalding. Yet Wolfwood’s calloused hands never flinched, placing their food on the table without much trouble along with a pair of long spoons.

“Be careful or you will murder your tongue” he warned and Vash chuckled.

“Thanks for the heads up chef, ‘preciate it” the other just scoffed at the title and sat down across him .

They both mixed the broth while blowing at it in hopes for it to cool down a little. However seeing how they were both starving and didn’t care too much about getting burnt or not, they just started to dig in.

Wolfwood was eating eagerly, having spoonful after spoonful of his food. He was beyond delighted. It had been a long time since he had the chance to prepare the broth he used to have back at the Orphanage.

“It’s…delicious” he heard Vash say in a low and calm tone. When he looked up to see the man, he was shocked to find him with reddish eyes that were glistening with tears. It didn’t seem like when was doing a show or anything of the sorts, he just seemed…at peace.

It wasn’t anything extravagant, quite possibly one of the most simple dishes Vash has ever eaten. It was made with the things that they could afford with the little money they could spare, the ingredients were definitely not of the best quality, the vegetables could have used a little more time on the pot. And it was delicious.

Vash felt incredibly warm inside, similar to how he felt when Wolfwood greeted him when he got back, just a thousand times stronger. The first sip he had of it tasted like the best thing ever cooked in his whole life, something he would have every day of the year for the rest of eternity. He didn’t know why that was at first, but after having a second spoon of it he could tell what it was.

It tasted like home.

The flavor of it, it was homely, the savor of melancholy. It tasted like their conversations about missing the past. The tang of the times they would have a peaceful night in the desert grilling worm meat around a campfire. It reminded him when he got sick and an old lady had given him a bowl of soup. It tasted like the first time Rem had given them a try of what meat and vegetables tasted like. It tasted like all the things he missed, and the things Nicholas most likely missed too.

The familiarity of it made him feel fuzzy and full on the inside, and he couldn’t stop eating. He was slow while doing it, wanting to savor every bit of what he could have while it lasted. It was rich, it was simple and it was perfect.

“…You want some more?” At some point, Nicholas had already finished his own bowl and brought the pot over to serve himself again. He looked at Vash with something soft in his eyes the other could not name, his voice was gentle and gravely, sweet and easy on his ears just adding more to the warmth inside of him.

“Yes…yes please” Vash answered, voice cracking a little. Nicholas served him, the sound of the liquid being poured soothing his soul.

Vash ate again, and Wolfwood was looking at him. The priest was taking small sips of water from his cup, always holding it against his mouth even if he wasn’t drinking anything. Vash didn’t really notice when he had started tearing up, thick streams of salty water running through his cheeks, a pool of them welling up at his chin and falling down the wooden table making a puddle of happy tears.

Vash enjoyed the heartfelt broth. He was happy, that bit of simplicity was enough to make him forget of everything else and just focus on that moment.

It was so mundane. Vash smiled with overflowing tears in his eyes while Wolfwood just watched with a fond smile of his own behind his empty cup of water.

At that moment, they were not in a random room at a random place. They were in a place where they had brought their home to, sharing a meal with each other.

#Vash just had his Ego moment #preparing food and eating together is a love language I can’t even begin to describe #and I mean eat EAT. like sitting down and enjoying the food to its fullest THAT kind of eat #delusional hours always open and it’s usually at it’s worst at the most questionable #time of the day ey aha HAHANEBWNNE #domestic Vashwood is my own personal absolutely peak favorite flavor of it as in any other thing ever #I said it earlier but I’ll say it again. domesticity and sharing simple moments are what makes life worth living #these two guys I bet rarely ever get to enjoy moments like these to their fullest so I’m doing this in honor of them never catching a break #this is special and this Vash is the cutest thing I’ve ever done #kinda wanna make him my pfp he’s so #AAAAAAA IM GOING INSANE IQNENW UEUJEHE #trigun #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun stampede #vash #wolfwood #nicholas trigun #trigun fanart #vashwood #trigun maximun #trigun fanfiction #trigun fic #lenssi writes #lenssi draws #I wanted to see this so bad and then I was like oh wait I can just do it myself. like every time I draw or write abt them LMAOOOO

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neonsbian · 3 months

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human kun 🙍‍♂️ and his vampire wife xiaojun 🧛‍♀️

#wayv #nct #nctinc #wayvnet #wayvedit #nctedit #kun #xiaojun #qian kun #xiao dejun #gifs #userbexrex #oorieri #im so sleepy rn idk if this looks any good rn i just wanted to do this bc i dont have time tmrw #also sorry kuntuals i was kinda rooting for their relationship even tho xj dgaf abt him as a person and only liked his blood #i love the first one btw. smth so domestic abt it

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monpalace · 1 year

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ships .. (ocarina of time/majora's mask) link/reader, fierce deity/reader.

content .. the boys (separately) with a reader who feeds them well, and the fruits of their loving labor.

warnings .. unedited. no pronouns used (you/your). reader is implied to have more meat on their bones (vaguely). reader is in their housespouse era and they aren't even married (legally). non-graphic vomit and forgetting to eat mentioned (link). link and fierce deity are taller than reader. fierce deity is named aram for writings sake. reader is implied to be a god of sorts (fierce deity). fierce deity is literally my oc at this point.

notes .. my schnookums thought they could have big cheeks and get away from me? my cutie patooties thought that i wouldn't write about them eating right? my pookie bears thought that i wouldn't fulfill my duties as their #1? my baby faced sweethearts thought i wouldn't spend 2hrs looking for pictures like those? my favorite white boys? my honeybuns? my hollywood stars? my sugarpies?

i'll eat them. omnom

LINK has always been rather thin. That was especially the case when he was a child. Something about a Kokiri child's diet not fitting what a Hylian needed always kept him frail.

When you both were children, he had quickly gotten used to you plucking his arm when it was idle to compare his lack of fat to your surplus.

(He never minded. He always looked forward to being reminded why he put one foot in front of the other every day during his fight against Ganon, or repeated cycle after cycle when it came to Majora.)

(Funnily enough, you had always made fun of him for being shorter than you as a child as well. You always mentioned he needed to drink more milk and eat more cuccos so he'd one day pass you.)

It was when you were able to cook more than simple meals and wouldn't risk burning down your cottage that you would invite (force) Link over more often than you already have.

Link had always tried to limit his visits to when he absolutely needed to. Free food, bed, shelter, care, supplies, clothes, bathes (the list was endless), and whatnot were always appreciated, but he never wanted to become to comfortable lest he wake up one day (or night. Or afternoon. His internal clock was always ruined when it came to sleeping at your cabin) and decide not return to the world outside.

He does his best to turn down any seconds, or thirds, or fourths, or fifths, and so on you may offer him when he does stay long enough for you to finish whatever extravagant meal you made just for him.

Past experiences often make him sick (with trauma or physically) and result in him vomiting his food, but there's always more from you to replace what he had just eaten and the meal before (if he remembered to eat it).

What he can't finish at the table (or on the sofa, or in the bed), he takes with him when he leaves. Link is respectful in all meanings of the word and hates to leave anything to waste.

When it comes to thanks, he either finds ways to help around your cottage or brings back items from new regions for you to cook. Whether it be repairing the busted bathroom door you've been complaining about before fixing your water faucet so the pressure is what you want it to be, or bringing back a spice the Gorons specialize in you've mentioned wanting to try, Link typically feels his gifts fall lackluster when compared to your treatment of him.

(He trusts your skill and creativity enough to know you won't poison him on accident. He never brings back any recipes or instructions either if it's not a dangerous material.)

(He's always excited to try whatever new dish you've concocted, so his only condition is that you wait for his return to cook whatever it is he brought you. "A celebration, of sorts," he calls it.)

A look in a lone puddle had told him his cheeks had gotten fatter. He supposes he now understands why he was refused entry into one of the pubs when he had to retrieve Malon and Cremia's uncle.

He had noticed that the details of his arms were less visible through his shirts when a Goron had pinched one,— not in the same way you did when you were younger— he had mentioned that he had an amount of muscle and fat to be proud of before asking him to join a tournament. Any attempts prior to were quickly shut down.

During a day of horseback archery with the Gerudo, the sweltering sun had gotten to him enough that he had to remove his tunic and the shirt underneath to feel some sort of relief. One of the women who were training him took a look at his stomach and nodded approvingly, mentioning that he should praise his soon-to-be spouse for feeding him so well.

The last nail in the coffin came when he was riding Epona into Castle Town. His tunic felt uncomfortably small and his tights (curse those damned tights) felt as thought they were stretched more across the expanse of his thighs than they usually were.

He's back in your cottage when he finally vocalizes his thoughts, preferring you to any other tailor or seamstress in the country. "I've gotten to big for my clothes," he either sighs or signs to you while eating. His gaze held a thousand yards in them, idly watching his clothes move with the wind.

The tunic, hat, tights, boots hang outside the window on a string connected to your shed. They had to be washed after a (admittedly well-planned— even if they don't think) ambush by a hoard of chu-chus.

You throw a hazy look to them before returning to the bowl you were tirelessly mixing. You were making dinner, he thinks, or maybe it was in preparation for the big breakfast you were making with the variety of bread from the Gerudo he brought back.

You'd already given him a large snack earlier.

The thought makes him look down at the plate in his lap. Every spot of it was filled and piled with bread, and eggs, and meats, and jams. He couldn't see the white bottom of it even as he pushed and prodded around.

He takes a bite of it gratefully.

"I saw you before you left not even three days ago. You fit everything fine enough to me." At some point you had stopped stirring and held the bowl out to him. Link grabs something off the plate and dips it in without a thought, eating it before responding with a hum of approval. "I can make adjustments to then, if you'd like."

You leave the bowl with him before attending to something on the stove.

"Please," he responds, halfway through another bite of the (what he now recognized as) Gerudo bread and cocoa dip you had made. "Different pants would be nice, though. It'd be a nice excuse to finally get rid of those tights." Both tasted sweet by themselves, he realized, but left a calmer aftertaste that he'd like to savor.

"You've always hated the tights," you hum in response, moving from the stove to the coolers that he'd built you after bringing you a large fish that only lived in Zora's Domain. "What would you want to move on to now? Leggings? Shorts?"

Link watches you remove a pitcher from one of the coolers. He isn't sure how long it's been in there (he doesn't even remember watching you make it), but he assumes you took some ice out so the pink liquid wouldn't freeze over into complete ice.

He watches you try to take a cup from one of the cupboards, watching you struggle to grab his favorite one from the higher shelves.

He stands from the chair sat just outside the kitchen (he liked to watch you cook when you had the time), placing the bowl and plate on one of the many cleared counters (you liked to clean as you worked), and grabs the cup for you.

Link lowers his head with his hand when he hands the cup off, head resting upon the crown of yours as he watches you pour the pink liquid into it, idle arms wrapping around your waist as he makes some slick comment about eating enough milk and cuccos for your liking.

You don't elbow him in the stomach like you might have when you were younger and he doesn't hold the cup above your head teasingly like when he was younger to (— then again, he had to climb a counter to get it out of your reach.)

Instead, you wordlessly pass the cup back to him and he wordlessly drinks it despite not knowing what it was.

He likes it, as he does all your works, and notes how it was both sweet and sour. A taste that fills both his childhood need for sweet all the time and his older palate's need for other tastes.

Handing the cup back, Link tilts his head so he can press a kiss to your crown. "Anything you'd think I'd look good in," he finally responds, the flavor of the moment leaving a tooth-achingly sweet taste on his tongue.

ARAM is often humbled in your abode.

He may have acted arrogant to others in his younger years and horrifyingly aloof now that he's a more seasoned god, but he never failed to (willingly) crumble to his knees when in your presence during either times of his life.

He had no need for the sustenance mortals require, prayers and whispers of his name were always good enough for him, but he'd kiss the ground you walk on if it meant you'd bless him with another food you've created (he already does).

Aram is the provider to your fire-lit home, an arrangement the two have been living by for as long as he can remember.

He is the sword to your shield. The arrow to your quiver. The moon to ever burning sun (which he did create for you, after all). The wound for your gauze. The life to your world— and one cannot live peacefully without the other.

Your food had quickly become an addiction to Aram. He'd eat as much as often as he could, giving little response to when questioned why he loves it so much.

("Because it comes from your hands," he once explained hours later when you were sleeping. "Your hands, that create all. That nourish all it touches and replenishes all that is extinct. I am your antithesis, and I must destroy that which I love."

(You never had the heart to ask again.)

He has enough sense to slow his eating around you. One concerned comment about him choking was enough for him to indulge in needless your wishes, but a question regarding its taste had him eating like a mortal.

His relationship with food prior to getting hooked onto yours was brief and filled with obligation. He never ate to feel full, only to make the people he was fighting with shut up and leave him out of whatever conversation they were having.

It never lingered in his stomach like a warm fireplace that others had described it as. It never made him warm and filled with love. It never gave him the energy he needed to keep fighting.

It just went through his digestive tract (why did he even have one?) and disappeared like an heavy smog finally dispersed by a strong gust of wind before he had to fight again.

When a war was over, you always came. You took the battle-shaken soldiers away when it was their time and healed their ailments if they were able to withstand everything. You went through war-stricken cities and set everything as they should have been. You feed and clothe and bandage and sew and reunite and Aram isn't sure why he lingered.

He's seen the effects of what you can do long after you've left. He knows of the good you're capable of doing just as much as he knows the bad he can cause.

He craves your touch when he sees it at its peak. He indulges himself when he sees it first-hand.

Aram understands what the soldiers mean when you beckon him closer and offer him food, uncaring of how he stands tall above all else.

The soup warms his insides. The flavor resides on his tongue hours after he's finished it. His energy, though far from depleted, had made him feel as though he were a youngling again.

He craves more.

The addiction to your presence and your food (and subsequently, you) had started then. It's an event he could easily recall when asked, one he would happily recount to you if you ever forgot where his devotion to you started.

Meeting after a war or battle had become frequent enough that he had finally learned your name; not some silly alias those who followed you often referred to you as. He felt like one of those lovesick children soldiers talk about, tripping over himself and his words.

He's curious to you, an admirer more than a stalker, fortunately. When he wasn't on the battlefront, he was always hovering around as you worked, busying his hands with whatever task you've given him after noticing his lack of mortality.

You treated him well; doing so even after the era of wars were long gone and he was seldom needed. You cared for him as though he were one of the many wounded soldiers with no family to return to once all was done and said— and to an extent, he was.

He's eating when you bring attention to his softer thigh.

You were reading to him, a romantic thriller that held as much of his attention that your captivating voice did. His gaze focused heavily on you, watching as you lick your lips after each page, how your eyes rake over the page to ensure the tone you speak the next sentence in is correct. He notes how you shift less often, how he doesn't have to move you further up his lap so you can lean against his stomach.

"It's not as painful to sit on you anymore." Aram doesn't think that line was in the book, but he doesn't mention it. It dawns that you were talking to him when you look up, using your finger as a bookmark as you closed the book around it. "Have you gained weight?"

He's a big man; it's a fact he's known since the beginning of his existence. He has large arms, muscles well know for how he snatched prey up to bring back to you. His height made it a simple feat to reach into the trees and capture any avian you wanted to experiment with that night. His legs that would stomp on any fish swimming downstream during a day at the lake you suggested.

He was sculpted by the Goddesses themselves. If they hadn't meant for his body to change along with his lifestyle, they wouldn't have designed him to dough.

(He'd never be ashamed in the fact either. He was contented knowing he had someone to dote over him constantly; a sentiment he had gained after recalling a conversation with wedded soldiers.)

(Also, the prospect of defacing what the Goddesses had long since disgraced was exciting, in a way.)

Aram doesn't look at himself, already well-acquainted with his body as his brow raises in amusement. "You feed me well, My Grace," he responds with a peck on your temple, "I would hope to become more comfortable for your pleasure." He refused to stop eating as he indulged you in conversation, the leg you sat on jumping once in place of his busy hands.

You hum that sweet, quiet hum of yours that Aram has come to associate with your contentedness (he aimed to hear to several tomes every day). Removing yourself from his lap, discarding the novel to the side as you raise your hands to cup his cheeks. "It suits you. You look healthy. Happy."

"Did I look ill before?"

You don't fluster as you might have like in your younger years. He's honored to have grown alongside you, reminiscent of the older couples you've both watched and escorted when he was still an active god.

The same filling feeling your food gives him fills his heart. The lingering sense of peace that he felt since meeting you dancing through his body when your thumbs rub the apples of his cheeks, the softest and fondest gaze anyone's ever given him in your eyes.

"No," you answer in a quiet voice only he'd be able to hear. "Never. You've always looked perfect."

And Aram has never been more thankful that he separated himself from the Goddesses as he preens under your touch. Never been more thankful that he lingered after the war was done. Never been more thankful that he had readjusted his psyche to more readily accept your gifts and affection.

He frees a hand to cradle to back of your head, a threat to all that aren't you, and brings you beneath his chin in a protective gesture. "As have you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "And as you always will be."

#there's a mental health stat for link in oot/mm now.#the only way to keep it up (and him in good shape) is to go back and visit his s/o's house often and interact with them <3 #(you are immediately entered into one of those cutscenes with the grandma that tells the story of the giants from majoras mask-- but instead #of only telling you stories; you get to watch them do domestic things)#unless sky and wind have some photos dropped that reveal they have fat cheeks 2 im never doing this again #i am my oc. my ocs love language is food. i cannot cook.#elvira's notebook #legend of zelda x reader #loz x reader #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #ocarina of time x reader #majora's mask x reader #mm x reader #x reader #link x reader #fierce deity x reader #legend of zelda link x reader #loz link x reader #legend of zelda fierce deity x reader #loz fierce deity x reader #linked universe link x reader #lu link x reader #linked universe fierce deity x reader #lu fierce deity x reader #time x reader #legend of zelda time x reader #loz time x reader #linked universe time x reader #lu time x reader

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malebreastmilk · 1 month

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pining!gojo imagines, school picnic outing!

pining!gojo who watches as all his students come out from the school building, their tired expressions turning to that of great joy as they are met with all their instructors setting up a picnic for all of them. all sorts of snacks and drinks are set up atop of the tables that had been set up for the outing. who finds you sorting through the stacks of sandwiches making sure that you really have brought all of them

“Hey! Let me help you pass them out. I can’t have you taking all the credit now can I?”

pining!gojo who makes sure to mention that he helped make the sandwiches to each person you passed one to, making sure that yaga and kusakabe especially got the message that he was clearly capable of helping. shoko sends you a knowing glance as he hands her the bagged sandwich that she had requested. who insists that you sit with him and some of the students so you can tell them about how well he helped

“It’s like I was made for it– Panda! Savor it, both of us worked very hard on that! ”

pining!gojo who can’t keep his eyes and mind off of you as you chat with everyone at the table joking and laughing as everyone eats their fill. who can only hear your giggling and words that cloud his mind only focusing when his name was mentioned in passing or called, acting as if he was completely disconnected from the ongoing conversation. who only then realizes he must have missed out on something being mentioned as the students rush off toward ijichi and yaga who are carrying out different types of sports gear leaving only the two of you side by side at the now dirtied table

“While they’re distracted I’m going to get first pickings of the dessert! You might as well join me, not like I’d let you get in trouble or anything.”

pining!gojo who is overjoyed as you walk by his side towards the table filled with all sorts of sweets and desserts finding himself more interested in you rather than the thought of all the treats on the table. who despite that tears his eyes away from you to the field of desserts spread out before the two of you, taking a mental note of all his favorites that were sprinkled in between. who opens his mouth ready to bombard you with his favorite treats and why you should try them before he momentarily pauses in thought, instead opting to ask you about your favorite types, noting the slight shift in your expression, his heart fluttering in response

“Mm, I like those too! Let’s make those together next time then! …Please?”

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be-an-echo · 2 months

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happy (belated) valentine's day!

#please go and listen to waylon jenning's lovin' her was easier while looking at this pls and FEEL THE LOVE #cuz joel sings waylon to tess a lot #this might me valentine's day morning or any other morning in jackson #joel tries to leave their bed but tess is too persistent so they are always late to something #sunny mornings in wyoming sure look perfect #that bedframe is broken but u cant see obviously:D #tommy looked at him funny when joel mentioned they need a new bedframe because *cough cough* it broke down outta nowhere *cough cough*#silly sunny sweet domestic fluff and nothing more #tess servopoulos #joel miller #tess tlou #joel tlou #tessjoel #tess lives #joel x tess #i know i promised “dance with me” but i did it twice and tried to fix it twice and it still doesn't look right but im working on it

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fatuismooches · 2 months

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EVEN MORE CUTE DOTTORE MOMENTS TO MAKE YOU SMILE 🙏 (because I am too tired to post anything of quality)

#smooches talks #ouhhhh... to experience the domestic life with him...#someone motivate me to start writing actual fics again...#the dottore honeymoon fic merely has the title “medicus scriptor amorem” and “Honeymoon fic” in the actual document LMFAO #i made it on... january 27 oops #idek if im gonna stick to that name because google translate for latin is so bad omfg #(TO THAT KIND PERSON WHO SENT ME IDEAS ILY AND I PROMISE I WILL RESPOND. I PROMISE IM NOT IGNORING U)#i also have another wip i havent touched with loving the harbingers when they weren't in the fatui yet #no like seriously i think churning out 50k words did something to my writing state 💀🙏#a snippet from dottores part: Il Dottore’s strength was nearly unmatched in the Fatui being the Second Fatui Harbinger and all.#what most people do not know is that he was… certainly not the best fighter during his Akademiya days.#A claymore was also out of the question - he grumbled when he had to lug his numerous research materials and parts to the desert…#In the end you settled on teaching Zandik the basics of a sword. do with this as you will...#however i am still so proud of myself for fabulam diu oblitus #i was rereading in class bc i was bored and i was like #damn i kinda ate with this #thanks for listening to smooches mini writing life crisis if u made it here #okay i go sleep now... i have midterms this week #OMFG THESE TAGS R SO LONG IM SO SORRY

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scarletevening · 10 months

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twister [ sakusa kiyoomi ]

its my bday so bday drabble hehehe

cw: foul language, some suggestive bits, implied fem!reader

“scratch my back,” sakusa groans, melting into the couch, lying on his stomach with his bulky legs on your lap,

“no, you can do it yourself,” you dramatically groaned back, too tired from work. he shot a glare over his shoulder, freshly washed hair sticking to his forehead in strands. you gave a sarcastic smile back to him, leaning over and running your fingers through his hair, causing him to soften,

“at least scratch my scalp,“ he pleaded, causing you to do anything but humor him as you pulled your hand away, to his disappointment. “c’mon, sweetheart, please,“ he whined,

“with your wrists you could probably do it by yourself.“ he groaned, a dramatic, exhausted, emotional, angry, exhale leaving his lips. you could feel your chest tighten as you silently laughed, opting to loudly inhale. another glare, with a smile you couldn’t see.

“I’m not a contortionist, now please scratch my fucking back” you can’t help it as you laugh, holding onto his calves as you laugh, his choking chuckle joining you

“when did you get so needy? and besides, not a contortionist my ass have you seen your wrists??” he scoffs,

“Yeah, my wrists dumbass, besides i’ve seen my wrists plenty when i fing--”, you slam a pillow on his head, laughter abruptly stopped by your jaw on the floor and the muted retaliations as kiyoomi reaches back to grasp at the pillow, bursting out into laughter as he sees your face, dumbfounded with your mouth wide open. he can feel his eyes burning as he shakes with amusement, his legs raising out of your lap as he turned his upper body to rest on one arm and look at you. Your face filled with an obnoxious grin, neck pulled taught at you pursed your lips together to not laugh, kiyoomi simply looking at you, the same expression on his face.

and when your eyes met, the two of you turned to kids, laughing and giggling like there wouldn’t be a noise complaint about your idiotic humor, hands slamming against the surface of the sofa, choking in unfunny humor as your stomachs began to hurt.

your eyes filled with tears as you escaped the weight of his legs to lie on top of him, still exasperated and laughing, kiyoomi using the pillow to defend himself as you nearly shouted when he opened his mouth again, grinning.

“i’ll shut up if you scratch my back.“

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

he gives me such deep ‘i make dirty jokes with everyone and you can’t stop me’ vibes it actually insane [thats literally me] i just love the idea of domestic life its so cutie

directory

#bday post!!!#ik he'd call me sweetheart #hdfbklzhblsakdj #im obsessed #i love him #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu sakusa #haikyuu!!#fluff #suggestive #domestic #hq kiyoomi sakusa #sakusa x reader #drabble #ramble

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llondonfog · 15 hours

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OK so Baul and Lilias friendship lives in my mind rent free, so I think that a few days after silver gets sick for the first time and mama and papa zigvolt manage to teach lilia the proper way to care for a sick infant after he comes over to their house tembling with poorly restrained panic, Baul goes over with v little persuasion from his daughter to check up on them.

What he sees is a happy and healthy Silver just quietly smiling up at him from Lilias arms while Lilia is passed out in his rocking chair fevered and red from catching baby's first cold.

Baul immediately assigns himself caretaker duties, doesn't even bother trying to move Silver from Lilias arms and instead just picks them both up to deposit them both in Lilias bed for a proper nap before checking the fridge for tomato soup ingredients.

When he first heard from his daughter that Lilia— Lilia Vanrouge, the once General of the Right, feared commander of the fae armies and scourge of humankind— had adopted a human child and had been caring for it for several months now, Baul had roared with laughter so hard that he split a scale wide open on his cheek.

It was certainly a poor excuse for a joke, the very kind of rumor that the castle fae still bitter over Lilia's persistent existence four hundred years later might spread. The very idea that Lilia, Lilia Vanrouge, would debase himself to care for a human child not of his blood, to stoop so low as to toil over its screeching and wailing demands when he had bathed in the screams of its own kind with a mad vengeance after the tragedy of Lady Meleanor . . . not even four hundred years of honeyed peace was enough to sweeten that wound.

Time, it seemed, had forgotten what was so cruelly emblazoned in the very depths of Baul's mind, in Lilia's own memories, and the nightmares of all those surviving fae who stalked the forests during those blood-soaked nights. Those born in kinder years had never known the horror of human avarice, and even his own daughter had taken up residence with one of their kind despite her father's immense displeasure, simpering, soft-hearted fool that her husband was.

At least, to Baul's proud credit, their lineage rippled strong and true through his grandchildren— and with his daughter due any day under the weight of a third, he's only too certain for another healthy, bouncing, scaled Zigvolt.

So when she had simply stared back at him with crossed arms and an arched brow while he had laughed and laughed and laughed, a sinking kind of horror began to creep into his heart— surely . . . she wasn't serious?

Months— hardly the blink of an eye for faekind, but everything to humans. Months, Lilia had kept a child for several months, and not once had tried to rid himself of it? Not once tried to deposit it upon the stoop of a human village and wipe his hands clean of the responsibility of child-rearing? He had been taking advice from Baul's daughter and her wisp of a husband on how to pacify and coddle it? He had barged into their home, fretful beyond measure with a colicky babe clutched in his arms, and all but demanded them to cure the child?

("Or what?" Baul found himself asking, utterly bewildered and needing to find some kernel of normalcy in the fact that surely Lilia had menaced his daughter's husband some into obeying his whims.

"Or nothing, Father," she said, the taunting ghost of a knowing smile playing about her lips. "In all the years that I've known him, I've never seen him quite so distraught. He stayed by the crib all night, frozen— we had to tell him it was alright to breathe and to hold Silver's hand if he wanted, it was as if he was afraid to hurt him.")

Silver? Lilia, afraid? Holding the hand of some human child?

It simply couldn't be true.

It couldn't be, this had to be some elaborate, poorly executed prank.

He clung to that belief even as his daughter shoved a bundle of medicine, food, and knitted blankets into his arms with the stern instruction to deliver them to Lilia's home (Home! He had never heard the forest cottage to be described in such terms! The place was a hovel, a storage shed for Lilia to dump his treasures before venturing off to the next location, how could it be considered a home?).

He clung to it even as he emerged from the woods to the path that led up to the cottage's door, casting unnerved glances to the strange and new abundance of woodland creatures skulking about the thatched roof and scampering along the thick tree trunk supporting the cottage like a lean-to, soft little animals that would have darted away in fright from Lilia's presence before Baul's own.

He clung to it until he could no more, when he threw open the cottage door with an odd tightness in his chest to see his oldest friend collapsed on a worn and lumpy armchair with a honest-to-goodness human baby snuggled safely within his arms and sucking happily on a stray piece of ruby-stained hair. Beyond them, a soothing glow flickered in the fireplace where a kettle of milk quietly steamed, and the scattered presence of cloth toys littered the living room floor along with (Baul shuddered) well-thumbed pamphlets, their covers illustrated with the cheerful faces of frolicking human children.

What had this child done to Lilia Vanrouge?

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soephiphany · 1 year

Text

The one with the petnames

Jungkook x f!reader ( i did this thinking bout me, that's why it's f)

Warning: just fluff and a very slight make out

A/n: It's small and sweet, hopefully

(it got me delulu tho, when i was reading back)

This old btw, from like one or so month ago,

Ik, I've been inactive, sorry:/

______

"... And so, i told her to look on the other sec-" you stared at the man in front of you "Jungkook, are you listening?"

He took his gaze from your soft legs back to your face "yeah"

"I see that"

"No, i am listening" he nods and continues the little patterns he was making on your legs "Anyways... Than she say that it wasn't available anym-"

"How can it be so soft?" He blurted out, not thinking but deep in thought.

"What? ... The book..?" "Nuh uh" Jungkook shakes his head with a little grin "You"

"What?" You couldn't hide your flustered face with your poor fidgeting and honestly it's annoying how easy flustered he gets you.

"I mean.. Your skin-no, your legs- Hm-Yeah, it's soft.. " he stutters his way out with a pink tint laying on his cheek and you let out a chuckle you barely tried to hide. You guide your fingertips through his beautiful inked arm all the way to his gorgeous and silky dark locks "You're so cute, Kook"

The doe eyes turns a bit wide with the unsual nickname. It's not like you aren't affectionate with him, you just can't gather yourself up enough to call him Kook without laughing - cause the word reminds you of a funny word in your mother language and you're also just not very fond with it- so the fact that you actually called him that sweet pet name he loves without scrunching your face up, it's a victory. He's too shy to make any word and already embarrassed for not being able to say it back -anything, really- so he just settle with hiding his face on your chest and giggling softly.

"I'm not"

"Your actions say otherwise" your chest vibrates with the sweet chuckle that rushes through your body. "Ya, Jungkook-ah, don't need to be shy" you tease him winning a small pinch on your sides and he mumbles something that fades in your dress shirt -or better, his dress shirt-

"You really like that nickname, huh?" Finally being able to see your man again, you melt when your eyes meet his starry ones, so endearing and lovely.

"I love it so much" not true. It's true that he's very fond of it but it's not something he gets all worked up about, but oh, when you say it, it gives it a new meaning, a new light. Your bright smile send shiver down his form and he can't hold himself from kissing you. Very lightly, gently, like you're made of glass. "You're adorable" the whipped man mutters into your mouth and grins before drowning on you again. Your mouths connected like puzzles, his sweet tongue licking your bottom lip as you grasp his hair and lock your fingers in it, massaging his scalp. Humming into the kiss, Jungkook's tongue finally meets yours when you give him a open mouth kiss, enough for him to slide in. Lips wet with drool that doesn't actually leave your mouth, tongue's dancing the most beautiful song, love. He softly breaks the kiss, leaving some small pecks behind because he's never full of you.

"Please call me that forever" his bunny smile on display and his sleepy eyes, dozed out from all the love he was receiving.

"Do you like it that much?" His bangs falls on his forehead and on top of his eyes when he nods. You giggle and peck his mouth and that pretty nose of his "I got a better thing to call you" you whisper removing his bangs of his eyes.

"Hm, what is it?" He hums kissing lightly the corner of your mouth, then your nose, the bridge of your nose, temples, cheeks and lastly mouth, doing a dramatically 'muah' sound when he distance his face from yours.

"Husband" the way the letters slip out of your mouth making it look so natural has he thinking of how many times did you thought about it. A lot, you thought about it a lot. You love Jungkook, you can't imagine yourself without him, so what's better than have him forever? Being yours forever, just like you're his.

"I take back what i said" his hands travel through your sides as he moves your body gently until your legs are on each of his thighs making you straddle him "i want this one" he could drown on the sounds of your giggle and how it lights up the small candle underneath his heart, warming it.

"I like this one better too" he blinks slowly taking in every single thing you have, your embrace, your voice, smell, energy. He just wants all for him, forever.

"Soon, then" he thinks you're cute when your eye wide at his words.

"Soon?"

"Yeah, soon you'll be Mrs.Jeon, my beloved wife" the 'argh' sound you make cause him to throw his head back laughing, relaxing it in the head of the sofa (*sorry, idk how it calls in english*) and you take this opportunity to leave sweet pecks around his neckline, neck and jaw, creating a trail of love in his body, gently marking him yours.

"I can't wait... I love you, Jungkook" his eyes stop smiling as he stares at you frowning a bit.

"It's husband, not Jungkook" you laugh fidgeting the hem of his shirt in a shy manner.

"Okay, sorry." You take his face between your hands and gaze deep into his eyes "i love you, husband" and that's when he knew, he was down for.

_____

Just a lil something i wrote a while ago as a small thought and it's finally here :)

Yes I'm a simp and basically i don't really know how to do angst so big part (all) of my posts will be fluff,

I don't mind tho, I'm a hopeless romantic and i need to be fed.

Well, kisses and cheeses like we say in Brazil,

Soo Soo 🌼

#Jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #bts fluff #bts fanfction #drabble #domestic jungkook #jungkook fiction #jungkook #fluff jungkook #jeongguk #its cute and nice and im in love w him

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