#can you tell how much I want an egg cake right now

[dandylovesturtles]

Made myself emotional over the “Leo and Donnie chose to be twins” headcanon.

———

“By the way, it’s Leo and Donnie’s birthday next Thursday. You’re coming, right?”

Draxum looked up from his work organizing next week’s lunch schedule to look at Michelangelo, sitting on the counter and swinging his feet. Celebrating individual birthdays wasn’t a thing that the yokai did, but Draxum had been forced to accept that the boys could not be dissuaded from this human tradition. He’d been to two birthday parties now, for Michelangelo and Raphael respectively, eating cake and presenting them with some small trinket he purchased.

He’d known that he would have to go to more birthday parties at some point. But he wasn’t expecting two at once.

“Why on the same day? I can’t imagine the blue one wanting to share.” Actually, he couldn’t imagine Donatello wanting to share, either.

“Oh,” said Michelangelo with a laugh. “That’s ‘cause they’re twins!”

Draxum stared at him. “Twins? What kind of nonsense is that?”

Mikey tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“They’re entirely different species, for starters,” Draxum pointed out.

“I mean, we all are, but we’re still brothers.”

“Yes, by virtue of your shared DNA donor and the circumstances of your raising.” Draxum waved that off. “But “twins” refers to a situation where two children are born at once, especially as the result of a split of a fertilized egg. Which is absolutely impossible in the case of Leonardo and Donatello. Even if I were to be charitable and simply consider them “twins” for having the same hatch day, I can tell you they do not.”

“Uh, okay,” said Michelangelo, unimpressed. “But they’ve always been twins, so I don’t think it matters to them.”

“Why not? I would think it would matter to Donatello especially, since he claims to be scientifically minded.”

Michelangelo laughed. “Not everything is about science, Barry. Not even to Donnie.”

“Then his decisions about when to apply science and when not to are inconsistent and confusing.”

“Well, it’s their birthday, so they get to pick.”

“I am certain that is not how birthdays work.”

“It’s how it works for us!” Michelangelo slipped off the counter. “We’ll see you on Thursday, right? It’ll mean a lot to them if you come!”

Draxum was fairly sure Leonardo in particular would prefer he didn’t, but that didn’t matter. Now he had a mission: he had to correct this strange incongruence.

“Yes, I will be there.”

“Yay!” cheered Michelangelo. “Okay, see ya Dad!”

He squeezed Draxum around the waist on his way out. Draxum was finding he didn’t mind that as much as he used to.

———

Leonardo and Donatello’s party was just as loud and obnoxious as the other two. Blue and purple decorations covered every inch of the old subway station, strange music blared from unseen speakers, and a horrendous amount of junk food was spread out over a table. It was the same group of people present today as there ever was, the eclectic mix of humans and yokai that the boys considered family, but it felt like a crowd three times the size with the amount of noise being made.

Draxum stood off on his own for most of it, his slim birthday present already delivered to the table stacked with gifts. He’d been a little shocked when Donatello and then Leonardo came by to say hello, since he’d been prepared to be ignored by both of them. It was… nice, maybe, that they did that. Even if Leonardo just wanted to make jokes at his expense.

For most of the party, the two birthday boys seemed to be competing with each other for attention. In fact, the longer he took it all in, the whole affair seemed like a clash of ideas. The purple decorations were neat and tidy, geometric patterns and hard angles. The blue decorations were whimsical, uncoordinated, and haphazard, and there were places it seemed someone had deliberately covered up some of the purple with the blue. Leonardo wanted to play rock music and Donatello wanted to play techno. The cake was a mess because they’d both requested different themes for the decorations. There were arguments between the two of them every few minutes, and according to the human girl April this was “typical behavior.”

But why? They weren’t really twins. They didn’t have to share this day.

Hopefully Draxum’s plan would fix all this nonsense.

When it was time for gifts, Leonardo loudly declared that he was going first, sparking an argument. They squabbled for a bit before agreeing to play rock-paper-scissors, which was apparently what they did every year.

Leonardo won the game and celebrated obnoxiously while Donatello scowled at him. Then he gestured at the gift table - which Draxum, in his efforts to stay out of the main throng, was closest to.

“Hey, Barry! Grab me a gift! Make it a good one.”

Draxum sighed but reached over to take one of the blue packages, checking the tag to make sure it was for Leonardo. “This one is… to Leo from Donnie,” he read.

“Oh no, not that one. Our presents to each other are always last.”

“Because they always get sappy about it,” said April with a laugh.

“Do not!” yelled Leonardo at the same time Donatello hissed, “You take that back!”

“Uh, yeah you do, and you know I’m right.”

Draxum ignored the petty argument to look back at the gift table. If they weren’t going to be satisfied with his choice, he might as well give them his own gift.

He lifted it, in its sensible brown packaging, off the table and handed it over.

“Why not start with this? It’s to both of you from me.”

“Both of us at once?” asked Leonardo. “Oh man, you’re throwing off our whole system, Barry.”

“Yes, but he’s giving it to you,” Donatello pointed out, “which means my turn is still next.”

“Uh, no, if it’s for both of us then it counts for both of us, which means it comes back around to me!”

“Ooooh no, you do not get to loophole your way into opening two presents in a row-“

“Ahem!” Draxum loudly cleared his throat, getting their attention. “Would you please just open it?”

“Yikes,” said Leonardo. “Touchy.”

“Some people just don’t understand the sanctity of opening birthday gifts,” said Donatello with a sniff. But he leaned in to watch as Leonardo tore off the wrapping paper and opened the box.

They were both silent for a moment, staring at it. Then Leonardo said, “Uh, no offense, Barry, but what is this?”

“It’s a… scientific study on how twins are formed during the gestational period,” said Donatello, pulling the paper clipped thesis from the box. “Oh, there are more in here… Also about twins.”

“Uh…” Leonardo blinked at it, clearly bewildered. Well, he was always a bit slow. “Thanks…? I think?”

“Not that I don’t appreciate the scientific literature,” said Donatello, “but this isn’t really my area of study and Leo does better with training manuals and textbooks than research papers.” He looked up at Draxum. “Is there something about this we aren’t getting?”

“Yes there is,” said Draxum, sweeping his hand around at the entire party. “I am here to correct your mistaken assumption that you are twins.”

The room fell silent. Donatello set the paper back in the box, staring at him. Leonardo’s brow creased in anger.

“We are twins, though,” he said, setting the box aside like it was burning him.

“No, you are not. There is simply no way that the two of you could be twins. It is biologically impossible.”

“You think that I’m so stupid I don’t know that?” Donatello demanded, getting up from the chair he was sitting in. “Are you doubting my intelligence?”

“Yes, if you honestly think you are twins with him, then I am.”

“Uhhh, Draxum,” said Michelangelo quickly, stepping between him and the now furious Donatello, “this was a… funny joke, but you can stop now-“

“This is not a joke. I am simply explaining the facts.”

“Yeah, well,” now Leonardo was on his feet, too, “the facts are that me and Donnie are twins. Always have been, always will be.”

“You are not,” Draxum insisted. “And given what I have seen here today, I’d think you’d both be relieved, since you clearly don’t enjoy being twins!”

Both boys looked like they’d just been slapped in the face. The rest of the room had gone completely silent, like everyone was collectively holding their breath.

Donatello broke first, turning on his heel and marching out of the room, his hands balled into fists and his shoulders hunched up as high as they could go. “Dee!” called Leonardo, and then he was scurrying off after him. There was the sound of a heavy door slamming, then silence.

It didn’t last long.

“Draxum!” roared the rat, actually getting up from his chair to get in Draxum’s face. “You come in here and upset my boys on their own birthday!?”

“Seriously not cool, Drax,” said the human April. Cassandra shook her head in shared disappointment behind her.

Draxum pushed Lou Jitsu back, scowling at his accusers. “I was only explaining reality! This is really the rat’s fault for letting their delusion go on so long.”

“Delusion!?”

“Barry!”

“Rat!?”

“Ooookay,” said Raphael suddenly, stepping his way into the middle of the fray and starting to herd Draxum back toward the exit. “That’s enough of that for now.”

“I am simply trying to explain-“

“Trust me, hoss, you wanna step away from this one,” said Raphael, and his tone was angry but surprisingly measured. “Come on.”

They retreated to the sewer tunnels outside the subway station. The smell was much worse out here, and Draxum wrinkled his nose.

“Alright.” Raphael heaved a sigh, folding his arms. “So here’s the deal. Mikey likes you, and I guess I kinda do too, so I’m gonna try to help you before you completely torpedo your chances with the rest of the guys. Which, you kinda did already, but maybe we can turn it around.”

“I still don’t understand why they’re so upset,” said Draxum. “Surely it was obvious they aren’t twins.”

“Uh, yeah, they know they aren’t twins by bio-whatever,” agreed Raphael. “They ain’t stupid.”

“Hmm.” Draxum turned up his nose. “Donatello isn’t stupid, maybe.”

“Leo ain’t stupid, either, he just pretends like it.” Raphael pinched his brow. “Listen, that isn’t the point - the point is they already know they didn’t come from the same egg or hatch the same day or whatever. They’re just twins anyway.”

“But how? That doesn’t make sense!”

Raphael sighed again. “Alright, look. Dad didn’t know when we hatched, right? But we all wanted birthday parties like we saw on TV, so he let us pick.”

“Yes. And for some reason Leonardo and Donatello chose the same day.” Draxum could figure that much out on his own.

Raphael nodded. “I was the biggest and oldest, and Mikey was the littlest and youngest, and Leo and Donnie were just kinda sandwiched in the middle. I think at first they just wanted a thing. Somethin’ that set them apart from me and Mikey, ya know?”

“Not really,” said Draxum. Raphael glared at him, and he sighed. “But go on.”

“So they picked the same birthday and called themselves twins. I think Pops just so glad they were actually getting along that he agreed to it. And I think he thought once we got to the day, and they realized they were really gonna have to share it, they’d both demand their own day instead. I know I thought that was gonna happen.” He smiled at the memory. “But the day came, and… they fussed the whole time just like they do now. Arguing about what kind of cake they wanted and who got to open their present first. But they didn’t ask to split. They kept it the same day, and they kept calling each other twins and it just stuck, until we didn’t question it anymore.”

“…They are both stubborn,” Draxum pointed out, and Raphael laughed once.

“Yeah, guess they are. But that’s not what this is.” Raphael shrugged. “They chose each other back then. Maybe at first it was just to have a thing, but then it became real. And every single year they keep choosing each other. That’s why they’re twins.”

Choosing each other as twins… Draxum furrowed his brow. “It’s not normally a choice,” he pointed out finally.

“Yeah, well, our family doesn’t get a lot of choices, so just let ‘em have this one, okay?”

“…Fine,” Draxum finally relented. “As long as it’s noted that this is purely a social designation, and not a biological one.”

“Uh, sure, whatever.” Raphael rolled his eyes. “Glad we got that cleared up, though. Think you can come back to the party and behave?”

Draxum wrinkled his nose at that phrasing, but nodded. “Yes. I will not bring it up again.”

“Good!” Raphael’s smile abruptly transitioned into something much more dangerous. “Because if you make my little brothers upset on their birthday again, I’ll remind you what it was like when we were enemies.”

Then the smile was back. “Now let’s go in!”

He walked back to the subway station, leaving Draxum to follow on his own. Draxum couldn’t help but sigh wistfully.

Raphael would have made a great general for his army.

———

The boys had already returned by the time Draxum got back. They were opening more gifts, and he noted they were wearing hoodies now - though they had apparently decided to swap their signature colors. They were smiling and chattering, and any hint of their earlier upset was gone.

Until Draxum stepped into their line of sight, and both of them went rigid, wary of him.

Apparently just talking to the red one was not enough. Draxum would have to do more. What a pain.

But he didn’t want the boys to hate him. So he sighed and launched into it.

“I… am sorry. I shouldn’t have said you aren’t twins.”

The boys looked surprised at that; slowly, their posture loosened back up.

“And… to make up for my present, I will… take the two of you wherever you want to go in the Hidden City.” The next words were painful, and he ground them out. “My treat.”

Leonardo and Donatello shifted their gaze from him to each other. They were silent, but it didn’t seem like they needed to talk to have a conversation.

Then they finally looked back at Draxum, slow grins growing over both their faces.

Eerily matching, very evil grins.

“Oh,” said Leonardo, happily menacing. “I think we can think of something.”

“I concur,” said Donatello in the exact same tone.

Oh, thought Draxum. Maybe they really are twins.

#dandy fanfiction #rottmnt #rise Leo #rise Donnie #rise raph #baron draxum #rise Mikey #disaster twins #I didn’t proofread this haha #I love the twins being twins by choice #Donnie and Leo had a big sappy talk sorry it was off screen

[timetravelingpenguin1066]

Drop it!

Your daughter sometimes couldn't tell the difference between what is food and what is not food.

Dad!Aemond x fem!reader

A/N: More dad Aemond shenanigans because it's too cute and I can't help myself anymore.

She had been so peaceful as a baby. Hardly ever cried, always wanted to be cuddled, always giggling and gurgling.

Now she was two.

The terrible twos were no myth.

You had laughed it off when Alicent said if she was good as a babe, she be hell when she turned two.

You should have known better.

She had learnt to walk. And walk she did. You turned your back on her for barely a moment and she was already on the other side of the castle. She had learned the word ‘no,’ and certainly enjoyed using it. Bathtime? No. Bedtime? No. Vegetables? No. Savory food of any kind? No.

Aemond, for his part, loved his daughter to bits, and would happily indulge her every need. Cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner? One big yes.

You sat him down eventually, tired of a constantly hyperactive child, and made things plain.

“Aemond, I love watching you with our daughter. I love how you love her, but please, you can’t keep letting her get away with things.”

Aemond nodded, understanding. “You are right, my love. I have indulged her too much.”

From that moment on, Aemond changed tack.

It started with: “Kepa,” she said and pointed at the vegetables on her plate. “No.”

Aemond sighed smiling. For a horrible moment, you thought he would bring out dessert.

“My little dragon,” he began, “I’m sorry. You must eat them this time and have cake later.”

“No.”

“Little dragon, please?” he begged. “For kepa?”

“NO!”

She threw her spoon at him.

“Now, little one, we do not throw cutlery at people.”

“NO!”

You sighed, putting you head in your hands. This was going well(!)

“Come now,” he said, spooning up the vegetables with his own spoon. “Open up for the flying dragon.”

To you complete disbelief, Lyra giggled. Aemond made dragon noise as the spoon came closer and closer to her mouth. And she ate it!

Finally!

Or not so finally. From then on she ate everything it sight. You or Aemond were forever telling her not to put something in her mouth.

One day, she somehow managed to get her little hands on Aemond’s favourite dagger. You were at tea with your ladies when you saw your tiny daughter with a large dagger in her hands.

“Lyra! No!” you yelled, jumping up from your seat.

And she looked at you with cheekiest grin, opened her mouth and slowly started to put the hilt of the dagger in her mouth.

“No, Lyra! Drop it!”

She giggled.

“Lyra! No! Don’t put it in your mouth. Kepa’s dagger is not a toy.”

She tried to put it further in her mouth, but just at that moment, Aemond swooped in, wrenching the dagger from her hands and picking her up in his arms.

“Lyra!” he fumed. “Don’t ever do that again!”

You daughter stopped giggling, but instead looked somewhat afraid.

Aemond saw this and sighed. “Lyra,” he said, putting her down gently. “Kepa’s dagger is not to be played with. It is not a toy. It is sharp and dangerous. The only things that should be going in your mouth are food and drink. Nothing else. Do you understand me, Lyra?”

Lyra nodded, although you weren’t completely sure she had understood.

“Now, if muna agrees, perhaps I can take you for a ride on Vhagar.”

At those words, Lyra started bouncing excitedly. She only been on Vhagar with her father once before, and when she wasn’t busy eating something she wasn’t supposed to, she was cradling her dragon egg, talking to the dragon inside (or at least, you thought she was. She still babbled in a language only she, and for some reason, Aemond could understand).

You sighed. “Alright.”

#house of the dragon #hotd fic #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #dad aemond #fluff #fluff fluff #fluff fluff fluffl fluff fluff fluff #the fluffy fluff fluff #fluffy fluff fluff fluff

[bunnyboyjuice]

Spoiling Nanami

It was your way of spoiling him. Treating him right in your eyes is a well fed man. And nothing screams well fed man like a pound cake after dinner. You always loved when your momma made pound cake that sweet sugary cake with ice cream on the side was your favorite. Humming softly in the kitchen as you mix all the ingredients together keeping an eye out on your husband making sure his relaxing. You peer you head around the corner watching him do a puzzle. With a soft smile you go back to humming cracking eggs and mixing butter and sugar together.

“Are you sure you don’t want help?” Kento chuckled with a grin in his voice. “No you gotta relax lemme do everything I know how to handle baking Ken.” You go back to whisking everything together again. Making sure that your husband doesn’t get up. Peaking over your shoulder at him again watching him intently. As you hum along to the music you put on while starting to put the cake in the oven.

You sat down next to Kento cuddling up to him watching him do his puzzle. “So what’s my surprise dessert.” He says with a charming smile pulling you into his lap holding you closer to him. “I can’t tell you that it would ruin the surprise I have planned Ken!” You giggle nestling into his lap watching him try to figure out his puzzle. With the smell of cake wafting through the air you admire your husband.

Leaving feather soft kisses on his neck and jaw while holding his hand. Gently running your thumb up and down the back of his large freckles hands. He pulls you closer keeping you in his burly arms. While planting soft kisses on your head he leans in resting his head against your’s smiling to himself softly. “So do you think the cake is done.” He chuckled pressing soft kisses across your face. “In ten minutes but you have to wait for it to cool down so maybe like 20ish minutes.” You giggle at his display of affection as you nuzzle into his shoulder embracing him. “You I could do this with you everyday if I didn’t have to work.” Nanami says his voice laced with exhaustion as he sighs gently rubbing your back. “Mm yea I know but you have to work and I have to work but it’s nice to have nights like this.” You sigh.

As you get up leaving you husband so you can go back at check on the cake you take it out of the oven with a smile the smell of cake growing stronger as you leave it to cool. Time passes as you go back to lay with Nanami on the couch. Cuddling together until the cake cools down.

You get up slipping out of his burly grasp to plate him a slice of pound cake humming softly as you get yourself a plate as well. Your voice rings out from the kitchen calling for your husband. He stops in his tracks his heart thrumming so full of the love he has for you like you were the only girl in the world.

He wraps his hands around your waist pressing soft kisses into your brown skin. “So can I have my surprise now.” Kento purred kissing you again on your lips. “Yes baby you can have your surprise now.” You giggle handing him his plate.

You both sat back on the couch Nanami eating your baking with a satisfied hum. “Maybe you should spoil me more if I’m gonna get dessert like this.” He teased taking the last bite of his cake kissing you again. “I’ll spoil you as much as you like baby.” You giggle as you kiss him back.

#jjk #kota's brain #jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami x black reader #nanami x reader #black reader #nanami Kento fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen nanami

[yuri-is-online]

Ngl, Aceyuu has me in a chokehold right now. Now imagine this:

Yuu's been learning how to improve their cooking and baking so they and Grim don't have to stick to eating the same ol' food everyday. After successfully making their first successful dish, which is chicken pasta bake, they decided to kick it up a notch. Salads, meat dishes, soups, pastries and desserts, the Ramshackle duo are eating good. So, why not make lunch for the both of them to bring to school?

The first years look in awe when they see the delicious lunches Grim and Yuu are eating. Ace, however, has his eyes set on Grim's dessert: a slice of cherry pie. But just before he can grab it, Grim's already chowing down on the pie before trying to take some of Ace's food. Yuu, of course, scolds Grim and gives him one if their cranberry white chocolate buns to tame him. Noticing Ace's expression, it didn't take long for them to put two and two together. So, they ask for the first years to come over to Ramshackle for dinner. While the first years are talking excitedly, Yuu throws Ace a wink, confusing him.

At Ramshackle, the dining table was full of dishes: grilled chicken, vegetable stir fry, shish kabobs, and more. When it was time for dessert, everyone was on the edge of their seats until Yuu came out with different desserts for each first year. Mini egg tarts for Deuce, pear compote with vanilla ice cream for Jack, spiced apple muffins for Epel, double chocolate cookies for Sebek, custard pudding for Grim, and Yuu has strawberry gelato. To their shock, Ace doesn't have any dessert which bums him a little. Though, to be fair, he is super full so he probably has no room for dessert at the moment. But Yuu, ever the friendly soul, let's Ace eat some of their gelato.

Before they leave, Yuu asks Ace to stay behind because they have something to gift him. They hand him a box tied with a red ribbon and tell him to open it when no one's looking. He's confused but he complies.

Back at Heartslabyul, Ace opens up the box to find what's inside: beautiful mini black forest cakes arranged into a heart shape. Ace, who's a little hungry, snacks on the cakes while feeling all giddy.

annon this is a whole meal (⊙_⊙) and I had to make sure I had a whole meal before I let myself look at this ask, people extensively describing food makes me hungry (－－；

I would make one mini addition to your little scenario, cherry pie is listed as Ace's favorite food, so it makes a bit more sense for Yuu to give him something like that... especially since that's what he wanted from Grim in the first place! Maybe it could be something like these heart shaped cherry hand pies? And Yuu gives him one little black forest cake for desert so it doesn't seem like they are singling him out too much, I mean sure Ace is their favorite but they can't tell the other boys that!!! They need to make up some sort of excuse, maybe they stole found a pencil of his they need to give him so they ask him to stay behind so they can get it for him... and Ace "sighs" and agrees to, acting like he's soooo inconvenienced while the other first years exchange a look and book it so they don't have to deal with you two.

Ace would be so stupid embarrassed if you made him cherry pie. It's his favorite, you know him and see him. Making food for someone is a pure and heavenly form of love, and you had to think about what you wanted to make for each of them and thought long enough about him to make him something extra. It's so touching he can;t even bring himself to gloat about it, but he will thank you for the food.

How can he be expected to get more otherwise?

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ace trapolla x reader #aceyuu #ace trapolla x yuu

[munstysmind]

BIRTHDAY CAKE - CHRIS EVANS

WARNING/S: Implied smut, Chris being adorable… that needs a warning, right??

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE USED IN ANY CAPACITY

Divider by @firefly-graphics

MAIN MASTERLIST

please let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list

A loud crash comes from the kitchen, ripping you from your sleep. As soon as your brain registers its sudden return to consciousness, you groan loudly in protest and rub your eyes before reaching over to get phone from the bedside table and check the time.

It's just after ten.

You let out another groan as you stretch your entire body out before relaxing back into your boyfriend's king-sized bed.

You came back to Boston with him at the start of quarantine. Both of you were out of work with the film, and basically every other nonessential, industry being shut down so there was no real reason you had to stay in LA.

That was three months ago now and honestly, you both love living together. So much so that last week he asked you if you wanted to make it permanent. Of course, you'd said yes. The two of you had just slotted into each other's routines and quirks so seamlessly it was like you'd been living together for years. Your two-year relationship has never been stronger.

You're pulled out of your thoughts by another loud crash.

"Damn it" you hear him say, sounding extremely frustrated.

"What the hell is he doing?" you say to yourself as you get up and throw on his shirt from yesterday before heading out to see what all the commotion was about.

Pressing your lips together, you hold back a laugh as you lean against the door frame and take in the sight in front of you.

The kitchen is a complete disaster. Flour is everywhere. The floor, the counter... Chris.

Lord knows what he's trying to do.

"What happened in here?" you ask, causing him to jump and quickly try to hide what he's doing behind his back.

"I thought you were asleep" he says, brushing away the flour from the front of his shirt.

"I was"

"Fuck... I woke you up, didn't I?"

"Yeah"

"I'm sorry"

"It's OK. What are you doing?"

"Nothing"

"Then why are you trying to hide baking supplies behind you?"

"Well... it's your birthday"

"Go on"

"I'm trying to bake you a birthday cake"

"Chris...

"I don't remember it being this hard when I helped Ma as a kid"

"That's because Mama Evans is an amazing baker and did all the work while simultaneously making you think you were helping"

You make your way over to him and brush the flour he's somehow managed to get in his hair before sitting on the bench opposite him.

"You, my love, are a man of many talents but cooking and baking isn't really one of them" you tell him as you rest your arms on his shoulders and play with the hair at the back of his neck.

"I make a mean pesto egg, everyone loves them" he says, wearing the cute pout you love.

"They are an exception"

"I should have just got a box mix, I know I can't fuck that up"

"You went to all this effort just for me, you have no idea how much that means"

"We're stuck in lockdown and your family's on the other side of the country. I just... I wanted to make your day special"

"You make all my days special" you tell him quietly as a smile spreads across your face. You've never met anyone as loving as him. You don't know what you did to deserve him in your life, but you thank whatever greater power is responsible every single day that he is.

"I wanted today to be extra special. It's not every day that you turn thirty" he says with a shit eating grin that makes you roll your eyes.

"Urghhh, don't remind me"

"Hey, how to you think I feel, I'm the big four zero next year"

"I thought we were talking about me"

"We are, I was just saying"

"I can help, with the cake"

"Nope, it's your day".

"Is that so?"

"Yes"

"So does that mean I get to do whatever I want?"

"Yep"

"Then, I'm going to remove my boyfriend's shirt in the middle of the kitchen so he doesn't make a mess on the way to the bedroom".

"And why am I going to the bedroom exactly?"

"Because it's my birthday and I want my man to eat me out then rail me into the bed until I can't remember my own name"

"Well, in that case" he says with a smirk as he lifts his arms up like a child, making you laugh before grabbing the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head.

You lean forward and kiss his chest as he takes his shirt from you and blindly throws it over his shoulder into the pile of flour on the counter.

He takes your face and kisses you, hard, before sliding his hands down your back to your hips and pulling you close, your chests flush with each other.

You let out a quiet moan as he starts pressing open mouthed kisses up your neck, wrapping your legs around his waist when he sinks his teeth into your skin before tracing it with his tongue to soothe the sting.

He knows exactly what to do to make you come undone in 0.5 seconds.

"Fuck, Chris" you gasp, threading you fingers into his hair as he sucks a bruise onto your flesh. You pull his hair, bringing his face back to yours and kissing him.

He pulls away with a grin, making you whimper and follow him, trying to lock lips again.

With a chuckle he puts his hands under your thighs and lifts you off the bench, throwing yo over his shoulder.

"Chris!" you squeal as he starts heading towards the bedroom, Dodger following right behind him.

"No Bub. Trust me, you don't want to see what I'm about to do" he tells your fur baby, slapping you ass as if to prove a point, making you squeal again.

It's about to be the best birthday ever...

GENERAL TAGLIST: @aussieez @rookiemartin @babeyyemor @secretaryunpaid @pixie88 @chickensarentcheap @dhoruwolfie @themaradwrites @cali-nyc5 @darsynia @diamondoftheball @wewannasaygoodnight @sweetbunnyliddle @kingliam2019 @angelcavill66 @mis-lil-red @rcarbo1 @secretdream2 @identity2212 @fanfics-r-us-official @km-ffluv @dream-beyond-the-fantasy @ktficworld @juliaorplI78 @henry-cavs-tudor @red-write-hand @queenzee27 @kandis-mom

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans fluff #chris evans smut

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Vil Schoenheit - Apprentice Chef Vignette

"Master Chef"

[Kitchen]

Master Chef ― Vil Version ～Let's Make Chocolate Cake 1～

Ghost Chef: I know you said you wanted to take the Master Chef course so you can appear on a cooking show…

Ghost Chef: But I can only teach you how to cook. I don't know anything about television programming.

Vil: I completely understand that. My purpose here is only to strengthen my cooking prowess.

Vil: As I learn the proper techniques and gain experience, each movement I make will start to naturally refine, wouldn't you say?

Ghost Chef: I get it. I feel a bit better after hearing that, Vil-kun. Alright, let's get started on a Chocolate Cake!

Vil: A classic pastry, everyone's favorite. I suppose I should pre-heat the oven.

Ghost Chef: Oh, nicely done. Set it to 180°C.

Vil: Set it for 180°C and… It's now pre-heating. So then, I'll start the prep now.

Ghost Chef: Crack open the eggs into the bowl, then add the granulated sugar. Mix it thoroughly until it's white and thick.

Vil: I understand. Now that I'm taking a look at the ingredients before me, I see that we'll be using a lot more granulated sugar than I had expected.

Vil: It reminds me of the first time I made dressing, I was taken aback by the amount of oil needed for it…

Vil: Unless you make it yourself, there's no telling what kind and how much of certain ingredients are in a dish.

[mixes batter]

Vil: I've been stirring and letting it take in oxygen… It's starting to become fluffy and white.

Ghost Chef: Look at you, moving your hands and speaking at the same time. Is that something you'd have to do on those TV shows?

Vil: That's right. If all I do is cook silently, that would be completely uninteresting, wouldn't you say?

Vil: On top of that, my own pride wouldn't let me appear as though I lack the know-how.

Ghost Chef: Hmmm, that's pretty rough… Alright, go ahead and stir in the cocoa powder and wheat flour.

Vil: I see they're already mixed together. Now I'll just sift it properly so there are no lumps…

Ghost Chef: Nice, well done. Mix it all well together with the rubber spatula as if you're trying to slice it.

Vil: I just need to scoop the batter from the bottom of the bowl and make sure it evenly blends together… Baking cake is much more laborious than I thought.

Vil: Everything has been tidied up, and I've finished making the apricot jam for the cake.

Ghost Chef: The cake sponge has probably cooled enough by now. Try popping it out from the mold.

Vil: Right. …The cake slid out of the mold just like the recipe said it would. Very nice.

Ghost Chef: Alright, now pour the apricot jam you made earlier onto the surface.

Ghost Chef: And spread it evenly across all sides with a palette knife.

Vil: So a thin layer of the jam is spread over the sponge-like surface, to help smooth it out.

Vil: This is exactly how it would be preparing to apply makeup.

Vil: Especially if I think of the jam as the primer, and the chocolate as the foundation.

Ghost Chef: Ahaha. That's an interesting way to put it. Now, let's make the chocolate glaçage.

Ghost Chef: Put the chocolate in the bowl and melt it by immersing the bowl in hot water.

Vil: And then I stir it with the rubber spatula like so… It's starting to melt from around the edges.

Vil: As the chocolate warms, its sweet scent starts to pervade the air.

Ghost Chef: Heh, maybe that aroma will even be trailing out of this kitchen.

Ghost Chef: Oh, looks like the chocolate has all melted. Next, immerse the bottom of the bowl in cold water.

Vil: We just melted it, and now you want me to cool it?

Ghost Chef: Yep. By applying heat and cold repetitively, the cocoa butter in the chocolate can crystallize.

Ghost Chef: When you temper in this way, you can make a velvety rich chocolate glaçage.

Vil: I understand. I'll make sure that this cake is enveloped by the most gorgeous chocolate glaçage you've ever seen.

[Kitchen]

Master Chef ― Vil Version ～Let's Make Chocolate Cake 2～

Vil: So, we lower the temperature of the chocolate by immersing it in cold water… and then warm it before it hardens?

Ghost Chef: That's right. And don't let up on the stirring. The slightest change in temperature can affect it.

Vil: I can't allow myself to get distracted one bit, hm. I need to be able to continue conversation even while concentrating on the task at hand.

[tempers chocolate]

Ghost Chef: Wow. Tempering is a pretty difficult task, but you did pretty good for your first time!

Vil: Temperature management is just as important in potionology, you see. Even a 1°C difference can transform a potion into poison.

Ghost Chef: I see. I guess your potionology knowledge came in handy, then.

Vil: There's also the way the recipe needs to be fully understood and followed to the letter and the ingredients need to be carefully prepared, measured and mixed in…

Vil: As well as how everything needs to be thoroughly blended together until the desired outcome is realized… Potions and baking have much in common.

Vil: Those who have a penchant for potions and poisons could have what it takes to be a pâtisserie.

Ghost Chef: I-I think it's a little scary to think about how the ability to craft poisons could help bake sweets.

Vil: Joking aside… How does the chocolate glaçage look now?

Ghost Chef: Perfect. That's all you'll need for the tempering. Time to finish the cake!

Ghost Chef: The trick here is to take the palette knife and spread the chocolate before it cools and hardens completely.

Vil: To present a beautiful cake, the chocolate must be uniformly spread over the total surface.

Vil: I only need to think of it as though I am applying foundation after having used primer on the face already.

Vil: Alright, I'm ready to pour the glaçage now.

Vil: The cake sponge is now completely covered in the glaçage. Now I'll use the palette knife as if it were a make-up spatula…

Vil: …LIKE THIS!

Ghost Chef: A-Amazing! Usually, we'll get amateurs overusing the palette knife and leaving lines everywhere, but…

Ghost Chef: You've not a single wasteful movement! What a beautiful display…

Vil: Heh, done to perfection. This is my masterpiece, combining techniques from both make up and potionology.

Ghost Chef: It looks so smooth and shiny and beautiful. It would be a shame to cut into it.

Vil: I fully agree… But I suppose we must head to the judging venue momentarily.

[Cafeteria – Judging Venue]

Idia: I thought I'd just order a choco cake to get a quick sugar high but then… Next thing I know, I'm dragged into this mess...

Vil: So, my judge is Idia, I see. I'm rather surprised you ordered the chocolate cake.

Idia: HIEE! N-N-N-NO WAY, VIL-SHI!?

Idia: Th-There's no way I'm getting out of this without an earful no matter what I say. I'll just smash the like button, so can I go…?

Vil: Stop thinking and tell me what you honestly think. Here, have a taste.

Idia: I-I just need to eat and get this over with… [chew, chew]…

Idia: …I…I g-guess… it's good…?

Idia: Tho this is just a singular opinion… It in no way guarantees or endorses the actual flavor of the product…

Ghost Chef: Uhh, right, so I guess that's a passing grade then. Good job, Vil-kun.

Vil: Indeed, thank you. But more importantly…

Idia: Y-YOU'RE THE ONE WHO ASKED ME TO JUDGE, WHAT DO YOU MEAN MORE IMPORTANTLY!?

Vil: I wonder how I looked while cooking. Let's check the camera footage.

Ghost Chef: …Ah! You recorded yourself with your smartphone while cooking!? I didn't even notice!!

Idia: His eyes are just glued to that video… Despite deleting my comment from his IRL feed…

Vil: There doesn't seem to be many issues with how I do any of the basic techniques, like breaking eggs, or mixing the batter.

Vil: The issue is with tempering. I was so focused on the task that I couldn't spare a single glance towards the camera…

Vil: My conversation level dropped immensely. It seems I still have much to improve on.

Vil: Not only do I need to present my food beautifully, but myself as well.

Requested by @sakurakudo and @dare-to-walk-alone.

#twisted wonderland #twst #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #twst vil #twst idia #twst translation #twst masterchef

[elisela]

you’re my only hope sterek, 1k, thanksgiving fluff

--

“Turkey hotline, this is Derek.”

“Derek!” Stiles says, looking frantically around the kitchen, phone shoved between his ear and shoulder. “I know that usually you’re supposed to thaw the turkey for days but last night I was nominated as the place to go for everyone who didn’t have a place to go and all the store had was a fifteen pound frozen solid turkey and I’ve left it out since I bought it but the damn thing is still frozen solid and I’m supposed to serve it in four hours. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

The wooden spoon he’d been looking for is balanced on the open refrigerator door. He snatches it up and spins to stir the gravy, the only thing he could think to make ahead of time that Lydia won’t kill him for nuking in the microwave right before dinner.

“You can cook it from frozen. It’ll take longer, about five hours, but serve some drinks and your friends will be fine waiting.”

Stiles looks at the compound butter he’d gotten—he can read recipes, thank you, he’s just in a panic—and frowns. “What am I supposed to do about, you know, seasoning?”

“Pull it after two hours and season it then. You’ll have to baste it, but you’ll be okay.”

“Great,” Stiles says, then curses when he realizes he’d laid his dish towel too close to the burner and it’s smoking. “Thanks!”

-----

“Turkey hotline, this is Derek.”

“This isn’t a turkey question, is that okay?”

The voice that comes through the line sounds almost amused. “We’re here to answer all of your Thanksgiving dinner related questions.”

Stiles taps the pie pan on the counter. He’s unsure if it’s necessary, but he’s seen people do it to regular cakes on YouTube, so why not? “Dangerous,” he says, “because I have a lot of questions. Like—why? How is this the thing you want to spend your time doing on your holiday? What are your qualifications, anyway? Because for all I know you could be making shit up, but I have to admit the turkey is no longer frozen solid under your possibly-sound advice. Which leads me to: can I bake a cheesecake at the same time as a turkey? The oven’s at 375 if that makes a difference.”

“If that—you shouldn’t be cooking your turkey at 375!”

Derek sounds affronted, and Stiles would find that cute—at least he finds his semi-outraged voice cute because for God’s sake, it’s a turkey—but he doesn’t have the time. “The cheesecake, Derek. Can I do the cheesecake at the same time?”

“Not unless you’re good with soggy turkey skin. The steam from the water bath will affect it too much.”

Stiles frowns. “Yeah, the … water bath,” he says, and hopes it doesn’t sound like he has no idea what he’s doing. “What if I don’t mind soggy turkey skin?”

“You mind soggy turkey skin,” Derek says firmly, and Stiles laughs.

----

“Turkey hotline, this is Derek.”

“Seriously, you’ve been at this for three hours,” Stiles says, because he had fully expected to get someone else on the line. Unless Derek is the sole employee—volunteer? He has no clue—he should have gotten someone else by now.

“Try eight,” Derek says. “Please tell me you turned the turkey down.”

“I’d feel bad lying to you,” Stiles says, grinning. “So it turns out I forgot the rolls, and I have a box of pancake mix but it says I need eggs, which I don’t have because I used them all in the cheesecake. Help me, Obi Wan, you’re my only hope.”

There’s a pause, and Stiles has a moment to hope he hasn’t broken Derek’s brain before he finally replied. “Oh, you’re thinking about making biscuits.”

“That’s what I said,” Stiles says, poking at the cheese sauce for his hopefully tolerable mac and cheese.

“You did not, but you don’t need eggs. Or pancake mix. Google a recipe for drop biscuits and so help me do not bake them at the same time as the turkey.”

“Aww, you know me so well, boo,” Stiles coos, and flips off the burner. “Why do you do this, anyway?”

“So people like you don’t give your friends and family food poisoning,” Derek says. “You’re safe, by the way, if you keep roasting the turkey at 375. It’ll be charred.”

“Drama queen,” Stiles mutters, and then puts his foot in his mouth by asking, “you’re not too busy cooking your own dinner?”

“My family’s across the country,” Derek says after just a moment. “My sister usually made dinner for us and her friends, but she just got married so she’s with his family.”

“Sucks, dude,” Stiles says, cursing when the doorbell rings. “Gotta go. Hopefully Scotty brought the alcohol or I’m gonna have a riot when they learn the food’s not ready. Thanks again.”

He hangs up, pauses, and calls right back.

“Turkey hotline, this is Derek.”

“Derek,” Stiles says, “you should come over here. We’ve got plenty of food. Some of it even edible, thanks to you.” He gives him his address before he loses his nerve, adds in a few key landmarks he’s near just in case, and hangs up before Derek can respond.

---

Lydia looks at him suspiciously when the bell rings, glancing around the room like she’s mentally counting the people in it and wondering who the hell else Stiles knows that’s not currently in the room, which, rude, but he’ll deal with that later.

Or not. He probably won’t bring it up at all, because she would have been right if he hadn’t been calling the turkey helpline all day, and he doesn’t want to get into it.

For now he sidesteps Scott, who had been helpfully on his way to the door, straightens his shirt, and flings it open.

Holy good Jesus.

He probably gapes—not his most attractive look, but he can’t be blamed when the man standing on his front porch is the literal definition of perfection. “Hi,” he manages to say, “Derek?”

It’s probably not Derek. It’s probably Jackson’s new boyfriend checking up on him, or a neighbor ready to yell at him for taking up so many parking spaces with his guest’s cars, or—

“I never caught your name,” the man says, and it’s Derek’s voice, it’s Derek, and Stiles is still standing like an idiot half-hanging out the door.

“Stiles,” he says, and waves a hand automatically to brush off the inevitable question. “I’m glad you came. Come in, come in.”

Derek’s shrugging out of his leather jacket, and if Stiles wasn’t already formulating ideas to make Derek fall in love with him, he certainly is the moment it comes off and reveals a soft looking maroon sweater underneath it. “Well, you said I was your only hope. Come on, Skywalker, show me your kitchen.”

#sterek #sterek fic #thanksgiving #fluff #eli writes #stiles stilinski #derek hale

[shadowcatzone]

-reader x venti who temporarily turns into a wisp after using too much power-

You're out collecting materials, for a cake. Or a pie, depending on how many apples you find. You're in the middle of picking one when suddenly, a bird hits you square in the face, landing in the basket with apples. You check for it- apparently, it wasn't a bird. You set down the basket. "Oh no... you poor thing, are you okay?" You gently pick up the wisp, but it wriggles off your hands and back into the basket. You leave it, instead rubbing your face where the wisp hit you. "Am i okay? That hurt." Glancing down at the basket, you see the wisp eating an apple. In three bites. You panic a bit, holding the wisp firmly before lifting it out. "You can't eat those! I'm gonna make a cake with these... for Barbatos! That's your, uh, ...basically your boss right?" The wisp looks at you with big eyes. Looks down at itself... and seems to have realised something. Now it starts chirping, you recognize the melody, you've heard it on lyre before. You sit down, relaxing your hold a little, "venti?" He nods. With his entire body. It's cute. Breathing a sigh of relief, you let go of him. "What in the world happened? No actually, don't tell me. Are you alright? You were helping the traveler with commissions, weren't you?" He shakes his head, chirps loudly and bumps into your head. "Okay, okay, i know, you can't answer me like that..." You place a kiss on his tiny face. That seems to do the trick, he just sinks back into the basket. You sigh, deciding to collect more apples, lest you come home without any in your basket.

_____

You enter your home, place the basket on the kitchen table and start unpacking. On the way you had bought a few more things you would need, now you'd only need to put them away. You take flour, eggs, salt, wisp- ...you completely forgot about him. So you leave the basket with everything else on the table. You move to the bedroom and place venti, who is still a wisp, on a small pillow. He chirps, you giggle in response. "I'll be right back." You get up and move back to the kitchen and try to put away a few things. As you turn from a cabinet to the basket, wisp!venti is just. Floating in front of your face. You groan, "not now venti, please." Well, the bard is a menace, it follows that the wisp requires your immediate and uninterrupted attention. You decide to comply, if only because his chirping is getting louder and you want him to stop. So you take a bottle of wine, a tiny cup and some grapes, before moving back to the bedroom. You lay down on the bed, and wonder: "i wonder if the traveler will come by later to tell me they're sorry for losing my lover." In response, wisp!venti throws a grape at you. "Oh, is zhongli with them? Haha, then i'm sure they'll figure it out." You pour him some wine, into the small cup (which you only have for decorative purposes actually), then feed him a grape. You start telling him about your day, even though you know he can't answer, though he chirps every now and then. Once you're done, and have nothing to talk about anymore, you start kissing him all over. Then you put your forehead against him, but eventually, you just fall asleep. When you wake, your head is lying in the bards lap. "Slept well? My windblume?"

The traveler actually did show up, crying, although dumbstruck when they saw venti. "I thought you died."

_____

Me: hey hey, you have to write one or two words for me

Venti: sure, what should i write?

Me: *pointing before hiding* i need you to write k- i- s- s-

Venti: you can write that yourself

Me: *BLUSHING* do i look like i can-

it took a while because my sleep schedule is wreaking havoc again. Sorry.

#i'm eating gilbird #genshin impact #genshin venti #genshin barbatos #venti x reader #wisp venti #wispti

[whatyadrawin]

The Fruit After the Flesh 18+ - Chapter 5-

Minors DNI!

Masterlist

Approximately 3,435 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt(HeadCanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings:  Mild sexually suggestive language, mention of medical issue, swear words.

A/n: Wow I had the WORST writers block, I baked a cake and ruminated on the story for a bit until it came back, and I feel right on track again. Thank you to everyone who waited, I will still be busy with schoolwork but I now can continue the fic train! As always, reblogs, likes and comments are extremely appreciated, and I hope you enjoy the chapter and art!

Tag List: @fan-goddess

Chapter 5

The morning came quickly with birds chirping and sunshine beaming into your bedroom, you wasted no time getting yourself ready for the day. When you went to the kitchen to make breakfast you noticed that you had no eggs in the fridge -ugh, I don’t want to make the 2hr drive to the next town for some eggs-, you lean back on the kitchen counter and think, you remember the Hewitts have chickens, -maybe they would let me have some eggs? I used all mine for the cake last night so I guess it’s a fair trade off-. This was a good excuse to try and see Tommy again, so you made up your mind to go visit.

Walking over to the Hewitt house was always a nice bit of exercise to get your legs moving, but the heat from the sun was strong today, and you foolishly didn’t think to wear a hat; your body is not accustomed to the Texan heat and you start to feel dizzy. You reach the edge of the Hewitt property and collapse from lightheadedness, your whole body starts overheating and makes you gasp for air as if you just ran a marathon. You look up at the house and see no one, so you try to call out but your energy levels are too low to make much noise and before you can keep your head lifted, you become so weak you can’t move or speak and instead just lay there, panting and helpless.

Tommy was tending to the cows in the barn, thinking of your smile last night after complimenting your dress, even if it was just a hand gesture. He really wanted to say more about how beautiful you looked but he couldn’t muster the words, he lived most of his life quietly ruminating to himself in his head. No one he had met as a child was kind to him because of the permanent scar on his face from a skin issue that wasn’t able to be fixed until it got too serious; Tommy never liked people looking at his face, the folks that lived in Fuller at that time were all very ignorant and cruel to people who were different than them. For once in his life, a pretty girl was kind to him and even interested in getting to know him better. He didn’t understand why you were nice to him, but he wasn’t one to question kindness, he would rather accept it and hope it lasts.

He heard footsteps crunching up the road near the driveway to his house, Tommy paused his work and looked out from the barn doors to see you shuffling up the road. He could tell something wasn’t right by the way your body was slouching and your feet dragging, he watched in shock as you fell to the ground. With a burst of speed, he launched himself into action, making his way down to where you fell. He could hear a quiet call for help come from you and just as your head lay down, he arrived to your body. He felt a knot in his stomach and kneeled to gently pick you up off the ground and bring you inside the house.

“MAWMA!” he yelled; his booming voice rang through the home.

Luda Mae came out from the back porch hurriedly “What’s goin’ on? Oh lord, is that *Y/N*?”

He raced over to the living room and gently lay you down on the couch, looking around helplessly. Luda Mae came and kneeled down next to you feeling your forehead,

“She’s too hot, get a towel and some ice water quick!” she shouts,

Tommy immediately obeys and runs to the kitchen grabbing the requested items, when he brought them back to where Luda Mae was, she quickly splashed water on your face and fanned your skin to cool you quicker. Tommy stood over you and had his hands up holding the back of his neck, he was so scared to lose the only friend he was able to make that it was making him sweat. With one more splash of cold water, you were able to get the energy to open your eyes to see a blurry Luda Mae and Tommy looming over you.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened” your voice was weak.

Luda Mae was smiling and happily shaking her hands upward in relief,

“Seems the heat got the best of you, gotta be careful in this weather hun”

You started to wake more, feeling a bit cold from all the water that was splashed on you,

“I really underestimated how strong the sun is out here, I just got so dizzy and weak” you explain,

“Well, yer lucky my boy was out there to collect you before blacking out” Luda Mae looks up at Tommy who was now relaxed with relief.

You feel embarrassed, “Oh god, I’m so sorry I scared you all. I think I need to go buy a hat and some UV protection”

You felt really badly for making them scared, you try to sit up but are still too weak to move and you slump back down. Luda Mae puts her hand on your arm and says,

“Don’t try to get up hun, you should rest here for a bit. Stay for lunch, I have some really moist chicken cookin’ up in the oven”

You feel so weak and tired from the heat so you agree to stay and rest, Luda Mae gets up,

“Don’t you move from there sweetheart; I’ll get you some cold water to drink.”

You respond “I really appreciate your kindness. I was actually on my way over here to ask about getting some eggs until I fainted”

“Ok hun, you just lay down there and try to rest some, you’ll be tired for a while. I’ll get you some eggs before you leave sweetheart.” Luda Mae walks toward the kitchen but turns and says “Tommy, you make sure to keep an eye on her now” she whisks off to the kitchen to get you the water.

Tommy goes and sits on a nearby chair that he barely fits in, he watches you with his chin resting on his hands. You look over at him, he is wearing a pair of really ragged jeans with work boots and only a dirt-stained white tank top. His skin was glistening with a layer of sweat and he stared back at you with his deep blue eyes, his hair was wet and tousled from rushing around, his mask still hid his face. He looked so good; you think about how easily he lifted your body and ran full speed with you in his arms.

“Thomas?” you speak softly, he lifts his head and sits up straight,

You continue “Thank you for saving me, I need to find a way to repay you.”

Tommy’s eyes widen and he shakes his head as he motions his hands downward to signify you needn’t worry about it. -he is so humble- you press on,

“You are such an amazing man, strong, kind, and humble. I just want you to know that I really appreciate having someone like you looking out for me, I haven’t felt safe like that in a long time… in your arms.”

You turn over to try and get comfortable, Tommy was taken aback by what you had said to him, you never fail to make him feel special. He shifted in his chair and rested his head on his raised hand watching you with a smile under his mask.

Luda Mae came back in and placed the water next to you, then she looked over at Tommy who was watching you in a haze of endearment.

She lets out a chuckle “You’re such a good boy, you make sure to get her whatever she asks for. Don’t mind your chores neither, I’ll get Charlie to finish ‘em.”

Luda Mae could tell he had feelings for you, and she would do anything in her power to get you two closer. In her eyes there was no one worthy enough for her boy, until you came, she saw how much empathy you had and how polite you were to everyone it was like you were a missing family member.

A few hours passed and you were woken up by a sweet voice calling your name, Luda Mae was leaning over you and gently placed her hand on your shoulder. You turned over to face her and she smiled saying,

“Lunch’ll be ready in five minutes hun, I just wanted you to be able to wake up slowly. Come on out to the porch when you’re good n’ ready, don’t you go n’ rush yourself now.”

Luda Mae walked off and you looked over to the chair and see Tommy still sitting there watching over you, as you start to sit up, he gets up and moves closer in case you struggle, you raise your hand and say,

“Don’t worry I’m ok, I feel way better actually, it’s as if I never got sick to begin with.”

He waits and watches you slowly place your feet on the floor, you begin to stand slowly but your knee muscles failed to clench and you fall, Tommy lunges forward and prevents you from hitting the floor by holding your waist, you look up at his face which was so close to yours and made you blush feeling butterflies tie a knot in your core; He gives you a concerned look but you are just frozen like a deer in headlights looking at his expressive eyes. He slowly raises you up to your feet as if you were a doll, he didn’t break eye contact and you felt light as air. He loosened his grip on your body and you snapped out of it,

“Sorry, I didn’t realize my muscles also needed to wake up” you let out an embarrassed giggle.

You were able to stand normally, and take a few steps successfully so you tell Tommy you are ok now and he takes his hands away from your waist but follows closely behind you as you make your way to the porch where Luda Mae had a table set and some spiced chicken laid out near a bunch of potatoes and some salad. Tommy pulls out your chair for you to sit in and makes his way over to the barn to relieve Charlie. Luda Mae comes out from the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade and smiles at you saying,

“How’re you feelin’ hun?”

You smile at her and respond “I’m feeling way better now thanks to you and Thomas, I really appreciate the care and this amazing lunch too, I couldn’t ask for better neighbors.”

Luda Mae laughs and pours you a cup of lemonade,

“Oh hun, that’s so sweet of you to say. It’s nothing I’m sure you wouldn’t do for us if the situation was switched.”

You reply hurriedly “Of course I would help if you guys needed it, no question! I just want you to know I’m grateful to have people who care about me in my life.”

“Well, were grateful to have someone like you around who treats my boy right. We all really like you, Thomas especially; He was so worried about you that he didn’t move an inch the whole time you rested.” Luda Mae took a seat and placed some chicken on your plate.

Charlie comes over to the table to sit down, he shoots a glare at you and says, “Girly, you better not get weak to the sun again, I aint in the mood to do that lunkheads work while he sits and watches you with goo-goo eyes.” He smirks and gives you a wink then begins to eat his lunch. Luda Mae stares at him with an annoyed expression and follows up,

“Don’t get snippy with her, I made Thomas watch her in case she got sick or needed help. Besides, you needed a good bit of work what with how lazy you been lately.”

Charlie gasps “You old bat! Y’know how hard it is to work in this heat? I’m too old now, I don’t need to be trudgin’ about the farm when Tommy’s strong enough to do the work of ten men.”

He continues to eat his lunch and Luda Mae just rolls her eyes “You’re welcome for lunch” she said sarcastically, Charlie just nods and gives a thumbs up.

You look around for Tommy to come eat but he is still in the barn, you ask “Isn’t Thomas going to come eat? He must be pretty hungry.”

Charlie looks at you and responds “He can’t eat the way he wants to with you ‘round here.”

You give him a confused look, Luda Mae adds,

“Don’t worry hun, he’ll get a big lunch later after he walks you home when you’re ready to get going.” Luda Mae gets a big smile on her face and continues, “Would you like to stay for dinner sweetheart? I love having you around, it’s nice having another lady in the house.” She gives Charlie a dirty look.

“That’s extremely generous of you Luda Mae, but I need to get going. I still have more to repair in the house and I want to decide on a paint color to freshen up the place.” You look over to Charlie and ask “What do you mean he can’t eat the way he wants to? He ate dinner in front of me before.”

He looks back at you and says “Y’think he wears a mask for fun sweet thing?” you shake your head and he continues “He’s hidin’ some real ugly under there“-

“You shut your mouth Charlie, you make everything so impolite!” she looks over to you and explains “Thomas had a really bad skin condition when he was a youngin’, it got real bad and we couldn’t get help until it took its toll on his face, the poor baby. He has a bit of a… different face now”

Charlie laughs and adds “Oh for fucks sake Luda, the boy barely has skin left to hide his teeth, he looks like a damn monster without the mask. You baby him like he’s a newborn lamb, last time I checked he’s a fuckin’ mountain!” He looks over at you while crossing his arms and leaning back with a smirk “I bet you don’t care much how he looks underneath, don’t ya girly? You probably like monsters”

You blush and look at your plate, he wasn’t wrong, Tommy could have a frightening face and you would still have a crush on him.

“Yeah, look at her, she’s blushin’ like a schoolgirl.” Charlie gets up and takes his empty plate over to the kitchen but passes by you and quietly speaks in your ear “Be careful sweety, he really is a monster.”

 Luda Mae whacks him with her kitchen towel and he scurries away laughing. She turns to you and apologizes,

“I’m so sorry about him, he’s incapable of behavin’ himself.” She sits back down and says, “Thomas is very handsome, his face underneath is just fine, it’s just a tiny bit scarred that’s all.”

You could barely hear her, your head was swimming with thoughts of Tommy being violent or dangerous like a monster -what did he mean when he said Tommy really is a monster?- The thought of Tommy being like a barely tamed wild animal who could break at any moment was frightening while also being strangely arousing. He was so gentle with you, he didn’t seem like the type to actively go out of his way to hurt someone but then again, you have been wrong about men before.

You ate the rest of your lunch and got up from your chair, Luda Mae got up from hers and said,

“You headin’ on your way now?” you nod and she adds, “Well wait there and let me get those eggs in a cloth for Thomas to hold when he walks you back home.”

You quickly respond “Oh, there’s no need for him to walk me home I’ll be fine, there’s already some clouds over the sun so its way cooler.”

Luda Mae gives you a look of dismissal, “Hun, I’d feel very badly if you got hurt or sick on your way back and there was no one to help you. Never you mind it being trouble.”

She walked toward the kitchen and you head over to the barn where Tommy was finishing his work, he was lifting hay bales into a storage area effortlessly. His huge muscles flexed every time he lifted a bale, and you couldn’t help but just stand there and watch this massive powerhouse sweat and grunt as he worked.

Luda Mae came with a folded cloth that had well over a dozen eggs, in it and called over to Tommy,

“Thomas, you’re going to walk *Y/N* back home. Carry the eggs I gave her and make sure she doesn’t fall.”

Luda Mae smiled and gave you a hug goodbye, Tommy walked over and grabbed the eggs and waited for you to start walking. You thank Luda Mae and make your way down the driveway with Tommy by your side. While on the road, Tommy made sure you walked in his shadow so that the sun couldn’t beat down on you again, you look up at him and you see his eyes squish up meaning he’s smiling under his mask.

“Thanks for walking me home Tommy. You know, I actually really like walking with you, it feels peaceful and safe.”

Tommy was happy to hear you shared his enjoyment, he liked having someone to look out for and protect, it was a nice change from his sordid history of slaughtering people which was something he never liked to do despite being good at it. All he knew was that he didn’t want to ever lose you, his life felt like it had more meaning with you around, as if the dark clouds of his mind were lifted. You were unlike anyone he had ever met and he would do anything for you, he wished he could tell you that.

You both arrived at your door and you took the eggs from him and stood still for a second, Tommy leaned over a bit to look at your face, he wondered why you paused quietly. You placed the eggs gently on the ground and gave Tommy a hug, he was so big you couldn’t even get close to touching your hands together. Tommy was in shock, he didn’t expect you to do that, but he welcomed the hug and closed his massive arms around your back and held you. He was still a bit damp from working and sweating in the heat, but he didn’t smell bad, he smelled like earth, and a musk that was like a spell being put on you. Normally most guys would smell terrible from hard labor, but Tommy smelled intoxicatingly good to you. He let out a relaxed sigh and leaned into you more,

“You really did save my life today, thank you again for being there for me.” You wanted to tell him how strongly you felt about him, but thanking him would be enough for now.

You loosen your hug and he lets you out of his arms gently, you add,

“I better let you go, you still haven’t eaten your lunch yet and I bet you’re really hungry.”

You smile at him and get another once-over on his appearance before he turns to leave. You never felt this way about someone before, he was like an enigma that invaded your thoughts all day every day, but you didn’t mind that. You wanted so desperately to know more about him, and now that you have his scent in your mind, you wanted more of that too. You remember hearing his voice when you were weak in his arms today, he called out for his mom with such a deep intensity, he had a powerful voice and you hope that one day he would be able to speak with you and say your name.

The day moved quickly and you were so tired from the heat that you skipped dinner and repairs and went straight to bed. You wished you could sleep with Tommy in the room again, you would sleep so well feeling so safe with him, but all you could do now was rest and dream of him.

#what ya writin #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x y/n #slasher community #thomas hewitt x afab reader #leatherface 2006 #texas chainsaw massacre #my art #the fruit after the flesh

[aconflagrationofmyown]

You go to my head, like a summer with a thousand Julys

A Sarge and lil Mama fic

Summary: THE BEGINNING of the Sarge and lil Mama universe

Warnings: fantasizing about breeding a young woman, masturbation with a stuffed animal, antiquated gender norms, slight grooming (I don’t know what else to call it even though it’s really not that and no one is under age) mentions of parental death, slightly manipulative Elvis, emotional infidelity on Elvis’ part towards his current girlfriends

Circa: 1954-57 due to playing fast and loose with the historical timeline of both Elvis’ basic training and Gladys’ death

Elvis Presley is an affectionate young man, he has a sweetness about him in all his interactions, and while he is famous and you don’t know him well he is devastatingly warm and you enjoy his attentions. He comes to your father’s studio often and he is affectionate when he does.

An affectionate acquaintance is what he is, he remains as such in a tidy little world where he hugs you during his visits and holds onto your waist as he chows down on the sandwiches you bring as refreshment for his Memphis Mafia. And there is nothing more to be said or thought. You learn to burn the bacon bound for his BLT because you like the way his eyes widen when it hits his tongue and how he groans around a bite:

“Honey, you shouldn’t’ve”.

In the coming months you learn to leave off the lettuce, too, once he’s back from touring again. Back to make another record, more juice for the machine and your father is gleeful at the unprecedented success of one of his artists. He took a chance on him and now Elvis’ life is fast, so very fast and the faces blur for him, blonde and brown and black and all of them want something he doesn’t quite feel like he can live up to.

It gets so bad he begs Wanda one night on tour just to sit with him, let him put his arm around her and just sit. When he walks back into the studio after months away and finds you there, it’s quieting. He hugs you and you smile and ask him how he is and it’s slow and steady and nice. He doesn’t have to manufacture calm with you, you are calm incarnate.

New songs mean new stages and life gets fast again. It happens like that more than a couple times. He feels older than twenty two when he’s blowing out as many candles atop a birthday cake on a movie set, his mother’s usual homemade creation missing and some fancy icinged concoction in its place. It doesn’t sit right in his belly and he tosses and turns that night wanting to be home.

Home is Memphis, the recording studio is there but he hasn’t gone yet, he takes a few days just to soak up Graceland and eat his mother’s food.

It doesn’t matter as you are not absent in his home, his mother speaks of you the first morning he is home. He shovels eggs into his mouth as she praises how you’ve grown up this summer, how you’ve been helping out at the church and took a part time job at the hospital. He’s not surprised, your father is a good fella, your mother of even better character and some kids are just born sweet -that’s how people like you get made, he figures. His mother assures him you’ve not grown into a career woman, she seems very insistent on how you’re just filling your time till you get married. She’s talked with you about it. And Elvis figures this is going down the road of how Billy and you would make a good match, and he wants to tell his mother you’re too much of a kid to be messed with by someone like Billy.

He doesn’t expect her to say, “She’s a good one Booby, the sort of girl who is bright and smart but would be happiest taking care of a man. Some gals are just built for that life, not that you’ll meet many on the road like that. But y/n? She’d make a good wife and even better mother, probably won’t really bloom until she’s had a baby. Some girls are just like that, kinda plain until they start opening up….”

The rest is lost in a blur. He is tired. It’s a perfect excuse considering he just came home. But when he goes to nap he cannot think of anything but you. You swollen and blooming with his child. You are younger in his memory, and it hits wrong. He gets angry at himself for thinking of you that way and ludicrously enraged at the suspicion anyone else might be, too.

Seeing you again will cure him, he knows that. He’ll hug you and you’ll ask him how he is and he’ll be reminded that you’re his old friend’s daughter and he’ll recall why he never bothered messing around with you. You’re steady and calm and nothing like this frantic emotion he suddenly feels at the thought of you opening up because of him… he stops trying to nap and goes to the shooting range instead.

Elvis Presley is reserved. The hug you anticipate never materializes as he steps through the door of the studio, and there is no cheeky grin when you ask him how touring was. He doesn’t smile or say much, he doesn't try to touch you at all, he is reserved. You feel cold.

But he watches. He watches you when he thinks you can’t see him, but the glass reflects and you notice his blazing eyes behind the microphone.

This has been happening to you more and more lately, men staring when they think you don’t see. Your mama says it’s because of your pretty smile. She has no answer when you tell her it happens even when you do not smile at all. You are not smiling now as you are confused, confused why he watches you like he wants to reach out to you and yet treats you like he does not, like the familiarity he usually wears like a second skin has been shed, lost somewhere on the road. Maybe he has a girl, you reason, and while that never affected his behavior before, maybe she’s a Hollywood one and a jealous type. Maybe he’s sad and tired like he says he is. He doesn’t eat the cookies you make. His voice breaks often and the session is scrapped early.

He hugs you sideways as he leaves and mumbles that he’s heard you’ve been keeping busy. You tell him you have and watch for some glimmer of approval. He stares at your lips and then flees outside to the sidewalk. Your father asks if you know what’s gotten into him. You do not.

That night, alone in his bed, he tosses and turns and refuses to touch the ache between his legs. You’d looked at him so earnestly that afternoon, trying to solve him and all he could think of was -you’re grown now. Bleeding every month, settling into a bra size, probably waking up with slick between your legs, your breasts getting sore and you don’t know why. Don’t know that all these things are happening to you so that a man can plough you open, pump you full and plant a garden inside you. He ought to be that man. He has the power to stop your bleeding, make your slick become a fountain and make you swell, filling the emptiness you register but do not understand.

He grabs the massive teddy bear sitting in the corner of his room. A fan gift, juvenile for a fellow well passed such toys, but he appreciates the thought. He appreciates the way the fur parts and rubs his weeping tip as he lays atop it and humps it miserably, pretending it’s you, pretending it’s somehow better to splatter all over synthetic fur at the thought of shocking you with his passion instead of touching himself to the thought of you swollen and dripping. He comes with a shout buried into the shoulder of the bear and registers in agony that his stiffness hasn’t gone down. He rolls over and calls up his costar. Tries to remind himself of that first, bubbly taste of a glamorous woman. She indulges him and he hates it, hates knowing what they both know: that he’s one of many, that she’d never in a million years risk her career to carry his child.

Thanksgiving morning you work alongside Gladys on the buffet line at the Methodist Children’s outreach and you ask her about her absent son. She worries for him, makes you worry in turn, is glad to have a companion in fretting, someone who understands why she can’t just “enjoy the ride.” You admit you’ve noticed a change in him. The buffet runs out of baked beans. Your mother says she’ll drive over and grab more from the market. It’s icy outside on the roads, your mother never comes back.

Your house is full to bursting that night, full of well meaning people who skip their Thanksgiving dinners to file past you and your father in a long line, awkwardly patting your arms and clasping his shoulder. They talk in subdued, measured tones about heaven and time and how they can’t imagine what you’re going through. Their restraint sets the tone for your grieving, you are subdued and rational until alone at dawn, clasping your pillow and sobbing, listening to your father do the same over the muffled noise of the TV.

When someone tells you that you’re the “woman of the house now” it feels like you’ve betrayed her again. It doesn’t sit right in your belly. You are sick with it, can’t eat from it churning in your gut, ironically you want mother to comfort you for her loss.

He comes back to Memphis in time for the funeral. He comes over to the house early, it doesn’t matter as neither you or your father sleep. Upon crossing the threshold, Elvis Presley does not awkwardly pat your father, clasp his hand or encourage him to be strong. He folds your father into a hug and doesn't let go for sometime, not until your father has wept for what he’s lost and Elvis meets your eyes over his shoulder, and he looks like he knows how this feels, like this is his worst nightmare you’re living. He is not removed from your pain, he dreads it and yet he partakes of it with you both. Gladys has brought a pot roast, she smoothes your hair back like she does her son’s before putting the meal in the oven, going back out to speak with your father.

Elvis’ eyes are watery when he approaches you, his freedom of emotion gives you courage to let loose, you sob, you wail and you babble and he cradles your head against his shoulder, swaying you in the middle of your mother’s kitchen as he mutters,

“that’s it, that’s it, you loved her didn’t ya?”

It’s the truest thing anyone has said all day.

He sits you down at the kitchen table and brushes your hair, powders your nose, brings you your black leather heels, holds out your coat for you to slip on. It’s not until years later you realize he must have taken the liberty of rummaging through your room to procure those items. It is odd that it was not his mother who took charge of such things.

At the graveside you are presentable in the manner in which he crafted you, your image is sad and tragic, but dignified and evocative.

Mother is buried in a coffin he bought, six feet under a plot of land he purchased, with a space next to it for your father when his time comes. There is no third space, and once the dirt is heaped over her you wonder where you’ll rest your bones, why he didn’t think to provide you a place in the earth, too. Your father calls him “a good boy” as the wind kicks up and the mourners disperse.

You ride back to the reception at your house, wedged snugly between Elvis and Anita. She hands you a monogrammed hanky in the back seat and it smells like rosewater. She sweetly lets you hold her hand and it’s icy from the cruel November wind while Elvis burns your right side, his arm thrown back behind your head and some thrumming turmoil roiling beneath his flushed skin. You can see the pulse thumping in his neck, above the fuzzy upturned collar of his coat and you instinctively press your free hand to it, trying to calm the flutter. He jolts at your touch and the vessel only pounds harder.

“You sick?” you ask him as your hand feels his sweaty skin. It’s wintertime and everybody at the hospital has come down with bugs and he feels like he’s raging with a fever. He doesn’t look like he’s been sleeping much either, he gets those same dark circles under his eyes as Gladys. They’ve both got them lately. Death has made you paranoid, you know.

“Nah, m’fine, it’s just from cryin.” he takes your hand down and holds it. Anita let’s go of yours, to open the car door as you arrive.

Whoever made it tradition for the bereaved family to have their house swamped by the community right after burying a loved one must've never known the bone deep desire to curl up and just process it all. Alone. So you stand again for hours and let them file past and it’s all very much the same as the other days and your stomach is in knots but you behave how your mother would’ve wanted, only occasionally sneaking off to the kitchen to load the emptying cheese trays and to just breathe. It goes on for hours, your feet ache and your throat is dry.

You escape back to the chilly sunroom to sit down for a minute and find him there, alone, sat on the wicker sofa and thumbing at one of your mother’s gardening books. If it were anyone else that would feel like a violation but since it’s him, it feels like he’s just trying to get to know her. And you appreciate that.

“Have you eaten, honey?” he asks you and nods at the apron you’ve donned as you just stand there and take him in.

“Uh, no, I’m not hungry.” you wave his frown away.

“Sit down honey, runnin’ yourself ragged like this.” and he pats the small space of cushion beside him as you think about your guests, think about how nice it would be to just relax with someone who values silence, but you can’t, you’ve gotta go back and host, it’s the right thing to do.

Except that his hand encircles your wrist and tugs and you go limply, folding into his side and he shouldn’t feel so warm, so safe, so right -you don’t know him that well. But he wears his heart on his sleeve and it’s bleeding for you and you suppose that puts you two ahead of a lot of so-called friends.

“They can eat sandwiches and make themselves feel compassionate without you hurtin those little feet any longer.” he declares and pulls you into his lap, tipping you back to cradle you like a baby, his hands running down your legs until they meet your ankles and he’s pulling off your heels with finality.

You’ve never had a boy touch you like this, you’ve never pressed your cheek against a hard chest and felt the thump, thump of a masculine heart radiate through your limbs. But he’s so final about it all, and so certain and so at ease you feel foolish for gasping and shuddering at the famillairties he takes as he rubs one hurting arch of your foot and then the other. He’s got an authority about him tonight you’d never noticed before, and you’d as soon question your pastor on a point of doctrine as question Elvis Presley on the propriety of rocking you to sleep, yards away from a substantial amount of Memphis’ most devout population.

Your last thought as you drift off is that you hope Anita understands you're just a kid to him, you hope you’re not shaming your mother on the very night of her funeral by tucking your head into his shoulder and sleeping for the first time since she died. Your stomach unwinds, your breathing evens out and your legs fall apart in your sleep, you dream of plush lips dragging along your forehead. You wake in the morning curled around a pillow, snug in your own bed, rested. Father tells you Elvis carried you up there himself before he left.

“He’s a good boy.” you agree with Father at breakfast.

He hadn’t felt boyish when he’d wrapped you in his arms. And you hadn’t felt girlish either, for all that you had been rocked and petted. Your stomach stays loose and molten for a few more hours before the grief catches up again and the newly empty house plagues you.

That’s why they invite the crowds in after a death, it takes half the city to make up for a single loved one’s absence.

You flee from the haunted space, longer shifts at the hospital and longer hours at the shelters. At night you sit and feed father your mother’s recipes, ask each other about the other’s day as if any of that matters now.

The Memphis division of the March of Dimes Charity approaches you to replace your mother on the board. Hustling you into your new position and entrusting you with the Christmas organizations all before the holiday itself is unheard of and rushed, but it all makes sense once you hear a doner put in a good word for you, requesting you be put in charge. There’s no bigger or quieter doner than Elvis Presley, so when he speaks up and asks for a thing -it happens.

Mere hours before catching a train to New York, he pops in to the event and makes the room shimmer with his presence, he kisses cheeks, chats with everyone and tosses kids who’ve been treated like glass up in the air, making them laugh for the first time in months. He signs ever so many posters and records and casts and he watches you all the while. The way you host and rustle about in your black heels and plaid taffeta crinoline as the function you put on runs like a well oiled machine. It doesn’t feel like a Christmas event without mistletoe or dancing, but it’s still a damn fine shindig, he’ll give ya that. And he notices what he suspected: when you’re busy working those grieving furrows of your brow clear and he finds he can breathe easier.

Before he leaves to catch his night train you get pulled into a photograph with him, poofy skirt crushed against his leg, arms helping balance a massive cake as he holds a kid who seems to think you want to eat globs of frosting off his fingers. You’re not about to deny a five year old boy in crutches so you slurp it off laughingly and the cameras capture Elvis watching that hungrily. The cake, not your pink tongue languorously licking white icing…

You walk him to the door and he leaves you in the warm glow of the charity function surrounded by children and folks you’re making feel welcome as only you can, and he boards the damn train that ships his ass to New York, calling Anita dutifully before slumping into the narrow bed and wringing his cock out to the thought of marrying you and keeping you full of him all your days.

You go on the date with Billy cause you figure it will get your mind off your grief and he tells you he wants one last happy memory before he leaves everything familiar and gets shipped across the world to get killed. Billy is being dramatic, as there’s no war on right now, but the draft is an atrocity all the same and you don’t mind giving Billy one last happy memory. Something in you has been curious about men since that night Elvis forced you to sleep on him by sheer masculine authority alone. You curl around your pillow at night and pretend it’s him, or someone, a man, you think. You pretend it’s a man.

You think it must be missing your mother that’s done this to you, she’d have kept you distracted but without her, and your father a reticent shell of himself, it makes sense you’re lonely and craving some stability, someone to tell you how it’s gonna be.

Billy isn’t exactly that, he can’t even decide on where to take you for this date, it’s up to you to suggest places, finally landing on the drive-in theater. It’s safe but mature enough to be a little thrilling. He doesn’t own a car so you drive in the car Elvis bought you when you became a March of Dimes board member. Father sets a curfew, and you try to soothe your nerves at the notion you might feel a man again tonight, your curiosity peaked and eager.

The theater lot is strangely empty when y’all arrive and you wonder if maybe Billy called in a favor. Halfway through the film you feel Billy’s hand on your thigh and you shudder and respond in kind, just a gentle resting on his own, but this spurs him on, soon he is ignoring the film altogether and fumbling to get under your velvet skirt and that’s a little surprising. You’re processing whether you like this or not when he leans over, pulls down your fur collar and glues his mouth to your neck like a pufferfish to the side of a tank. It’s not very romantic but it makes you flush and it shocks you and you like that. More shocking still is the blinding light that suddenly pierces the nighttime seclusion of your car cab, and there at your window is Elvis Presley wielding a police grade flashlight directly into your eyes, smiling like a shark against the glass.

“How’s it goin kids?” he grins, his breath frosting the frigid glass.

“Elvis, I-I- I’m on a date.” You laugh while stating the obvious.

“I know, I know,” he nods, opening your door and sliding in next to you, gently shoving you till he’s in front of the wheel and you're wedged in the middle, “Bill here told me you were handin out free dates to poor drafted boys, so I’m here for mine.”

“You’ve been drafted, too?” you cry out, Billy quite forgotten, “They’ll not make you with-“

-with his career you mean, but he gives you a pout and nod and that’s that. So is the way his arm slides around you and pulls you closer and you feel like you’re in the middle of a contest you didn’t sign up for. “I’ll miss you boys.” you sigh.

“Aww, you’re sweet honey, ain’t she sweet, Billy? She taste sweet, too?”

Billy mumbles something under his breath about not getting the chance and you realize Elvis has his hand gripping the poor kid’s neck.

“Elvis you're being rude.” you chide meekly.

“Nah, it’s rude to kiss a lady’s neck with so little finesse as Bill was yours, that’s what’s rude.” Elvis declares and you get that feeling again of being unable to question him. You just hush and stay put until the credits roll and he offers Billy a ride home which the kid accepts. He drives your car and you don’t bother protesting when he drops Billy off with a:

“See ya in the barracks, bucko!”

It’s rude and cocky and no one’s ever fought over you before and while you don’t appreciate him interrupting your exploration of a male specimen, it’s rather nice to matter a little to Elvis Presley. It’s heady and makes your heart thump and your legs feel heavy and you wipe your sweaty palms on the velvet of your skirt.

“How’d you know that, that I was there?” you ask him, timid now you’re alone with him and the gentleness he once showed you isn’t present, he is gnawing on his bottom lip, leg not pressing the gas is jiggling like it does before a performance and it attracts your eye by instinct.

He’s wound up and you feel a little suffocated from the warmth rolling off him as he drives you through the dark streets, back to your home. “He asked me to clear the lot out.” he confirms your suspicion, “Then your daddy asked me to look out for ya, make sure all was right and proper.”

You are surprised and a little hurt that your father wouldn’t trust his child who has been as unfailingly upright as yourself on a movie date, more strange still that he’d trust someone as, well -loose might be a unkind word- but someone as loose as Elvis Presley to enforce morality on such a night. “I don’t believe you.” you admit barely above a whisper.

Elvis’ foot slips at your little whisper and he revs over the curb outside your house with a thump, before he curses and backs up, head cranning to look out the rear window and you wanna touch his throat.

He kills the lights and turns to you and you're so ashamed by your craving thoughts you fear he can sniff them like blood in water, figure out that you wanna run your finger down his cheek, that you wanted to touch Billy cause you’ve been curious of him. “Now honey,” he admonishes you in the still dark and it’s all you can do not to shrink against the car door under the weight of his stare, “I don’t wanna have to report to your daddy what I saw in this here cab, so why don’t you tell me why it was you were lettin’ that boy touch on you so. You was leanin in, I saw ya, you was leanin in and you liked it.”

“Elvis,” you plead, face aflame and it makes him twitch in his seat to see you squirm so, “you, Elvis you know I haven’t -this was my first date! I didn’t do nothin wrong. It was exciting, that’s all.”

He looks at you sternly and it makes you angry, you're about to resume a defense when he takes his hand off the wheel to clasp your thigh, higher up than Billy ever dared. “This feel exciting, lil one?”

Your lungs feel crushed and your thigh trembles under his hot palm, “What’re you doin?” you gasp, feeling very, very wrong and near starving for it.

“This feel right to you?” he presses, unrelenting, hand rhythmically squeezing your soft flesh and you can see father’s silhouette in his usual chair by the window, reading and oblivious.

“I said exciting.” you cleared your throat, “And I said it was when Billy did it. And he never went that- that- that high up.”

“Oh nah? Hmm, well, now that I’m there, how’s it feel, honey? Hmm?”

You squeeze your eyes shut after a moment, watching his hand creep higher and nearer to where you feel your heart beat thudding between your legs proving to be a bit much.

“Ain’t right or fittin for Limp Dick Billy to be gettin a quality girl like you excited.” he shakes his head, “Save your bosom heavin for better stuff.”

“Limp Dick -what’s that mean?” you repeat him, bewildered as your world narrows to his lush lips and the searing heat of his hand near that place you’ve grown to notice more and more lately.

“Aww that’s just, that’s nothin, just a bad name we use for fellas whose uh, well, whose hair won’t uh, won’t stand up right.”

“Not everybody can have hair like you, E.” you mumble and watch the way the lamplight makes his rings glitters against the velvet of your skirt.

That’s an admission on your part that he drinks in like a dying man, happy to have some glimmer of superiority in your mind over his fellows, and he rubs his thumb soothingly over your twitching thigh as your skirt folds dip between your legs, highlighting them perfectly. He can see the outline of your little cunt between your pressed thighs and he feels rash, feels like spreading his hand a little further and brushing his pinky there against that place he’s imagined so many times.

“Elvis,” you whisper into the silent cab, “what’re you doing?”

That’s a question for the ages and one he hasn’t got a clean answer for. “Tryin to make you excited.” he admits.

“Why?” you puzzle and you’ve heard that this is why he’s called trouble. It isn’t fitting for the sexes to know too much about each other, and Elvis knows too much about women, that’s the talk anyways.

The motion of his thumb against your thigh makes you agree, he knows a little too much and you know too little.

“Tell me,” he leans in further and you feel trapped and your heart is bounding from being the object of his droopy eyed assessment, “does this feel like doin nothin?” he demands and then he’s pressing a fluttery kiss to your pulsing throat and the catch of your breath is audible in the small space.

“Don’t.” you beg, confused and wanting it to never end.

“Why not?” his breath chills the damp little spot where he pressed his kiss.

“You’ve got a girl.” you protest.

“Thought you said this weren’t nothin.” he growls.

“Alright maybe it is.” You squirm away from his touches until your back is pressed against the glovebox. “I-I don’t know. I just - I don’t think you should be doing this with me.”

“Alright then.” he smirks, “You'd best not give me reason to tell your father bout any future such nothin’s with boys, alright honey?”

“If you stop behavin in a way that would make Miss Gladys inclined to whoop you, then I will.” you fire back and he thinks he’s in love. Cause you’re right, his mama would be livid at him flustering you and trying you out without making it honest. Your supreme capabilities in social matters, mixed with your utter dumbness in regards to the slick sliding down your legs with each swipe of his thumb against velvet, makes him nearly primal in his wants.

“Deal.” he smiles, “I’ll be gone away to basic training soon, anyhow,” and he notices your little frown at that, “won’t be here to bother you or protect ya, either way. So you’d best just swear off men, ya hear me? Just for a little while till I can come back and vet ‘em.”

“You’ll be gone in the army for a couple years!” you protest his sentencing you to a nunnery.

“Yeah, yeah, and your eggs will keep a couple more years.” he laughs at what must’ve been a good joke that you missed while you were occupied trying to breathe after he patted your lower belly and got out of the car to hand you out by curfew.

On the front porch he tells your daddy a version of the truth. A version that paints you as quite blameless, himself in a starring role of protector and Billy as a no good kid who ain’t quality enough to be hanging out with nice girls like yourself. You are forbidden from seeing Billy again, Elvis is commended, your father goes upstairs to bed and leaves you alone with a young man whose lingering fingers and bitten lips make you lightheaded -you think maybe Elvis has the right idea, your father is blind as a bat when it comes to threats.

Not that Elvis is a threat, he just lounges against the kitchen counter and watches you put up dishes like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

“You don’t think Anita would mind you hanging around like this?” You ask him after his lip licking stare gets a little too heavy and you feel somewhat dizzy from being so closely watched by a guy who you know doesn't mean anything by it.

It’s just Elvis’ way of things, he makes people feel and it’s not his fault.

You’ve tried to not blame him for that building feeling you get when he’s around, the one like your lower belly is made of molten lead. That’s a physical abnormality, not his fault in the slightest.

You just do worry about how people might see this, seeing him walking home from your house late at night. You've heard the older ladies on the board whispering about you and how you haven’t got a protector, how your father can’t see what’s right in front of him. You presume they mean about Billy and his straying hands or the old donor who tried to tug you into a closet with him. Elvis is just trying to fill in the slack your father’s grief has left. Anyone with eyes could tell he’s just looking out for you. He had to be pulled off the old doner before he murdered him after he heard. It’s only that you notice Anita has turned a little cold towards you, and mama always said to be careful about letting a taken man take too much interest in ya. And Elvis does seem very interested in something about you, maybe just cause people stare and he thinks it’s rude, thinks getting pulled into closets is ungallant. He does plenty of his own staring, though.

“What about Anita?” his head snaps up and he takes his eyes off your shiny little leather belt to ask you to repeat yourself.

Something about having his focus back on your face makes you feel dumb about your worries and you change the question slightly. “Y’all gonna get married?” you ask instead.

“I dunno.”

“But with you going into the army, what’s gonna happen, what’ve you two sorted out?” you press, scooting him to the side so you can put a dish away behind him.

“She says she’ll wait for me.” he replies, sounding like her faithfulness is an imposition and you get a little mad for her, “she’s always tryin to nail things down I-I-I’ve told her, I just d-d-dunno.”

“She’s been very accommodating of you, Elvis.” you plead her case the way your mother used to plead yours to your father about dance lessons.

“Yeah, sure, sure.” he agrees dryly, leaning on the counter again and staring at his feet, “Gonna put a pause on her damn career and everything, least for a year or two. Big whoop. Who's gonna take care of the babies once she goes back to work, that’s what I wanna know. No children of mine’s gonna get raised by some passel ‘a mamies like a bunch of Wall Street brats while their mother is off kissin men for a living.`` By the end of this tirade his voice is close to a shout and you think he’s shockingly worked up over a rather hypocritical grievance.

But it makes sense, “Guess a career woman isn’t the best mother.” you agree tentatively and his eyes shoot up to your face. You’ve no more dishes to dry and your hands hang uselessly by your side.

“Oh hell, look at us ruinin our evening over her,” he shakes himself, “don’t mind her she’s just being an ole biddy about it all.”

“With some reason!” you laugh, “ And the point could be made that you’re actin a bit like an ass.”

“Oh hell not you, too!”

“It’s not nice to lead a gal on like that -or two in the case of Dixie and June- and then get mad at her when you decide she isn’t what you want after all!”

“Didn’t realize you were so invested in my private life.” he sneers.

“I’m not. But the Evening Herald is.”

“Don’t let the papers turn ya onto a nagging puss, lil girl, doesn't suit your sweet temper.”

“I’m not turnin into anything, just stating facts.” you murmur and clasp your hands before you anxiously. You swear you can feel the heat coming off of him, anger you presume, “And I’m a little tired.” you add sheepishly.

“Course you are.” he murmurs, visage smoothing like magic and he comes up to you, cradling your face in his hands as you back away and bump into the stove, “Been a big day and a lotta new feelin’s, hmm?”

“Yes.” you gasp, your chest hot and his hands are so large and warm and it’s like he blocks out the rest of the world full of his girls and your father and what’s right or wrong, cradling your cheeks with his thumbs running along your cheekbones, “You gonna be good and do what I asked ya?”

Your mind is so fixated on the plump curve of his bottom lip that you surface with a frantic splutter, trying to recall what he’s referencing.

“You gonna lay off the datin’ till I get back, yeah?” he reminds you helpfully as his fingers work the back of your neck to jello, your core pulsing in a strangely distracting response as he tells you how it’s gonna be, gives the very direction you’ve been craving.

“Yes, yeah.” you breathe and your voice sounds like those gals on the screen when they’re overcome by romance, but here is none that you can find, just Elvis looking out for you and patiently bearing with your stupid naïveté when it comes to boys. He’ll make sure you land the right one, start house with a fella who’ll give you security and direction. It’s just your loneliness with father being so mellow that has you going on stupid dates with boring boys. Elvis is right. You admit it to him.

He smiles in response and it looks like the kind he gives before he punches someone in his films. It’s a promise.

You shiver against the stove and grip the dish towel hanging from the handle.

“And you’ll let me know if anybody is botherin, ya while i'm gone, right?” he rewards your obedience with the promise of security, just like all those knights in fairytales.

Women obey and men provide, it’s the natural way of things and your heart swoops at the first taste of a married dynamic. You feel like you should offer him some favor, some reward for giving you his defense. You’ve heard stories about girls who feel the way you do, who get overcome by gratitude to a fella before getting married and they are ruined. You grip the dish towel harder, unsure of what motion you might make which would ruin you, what touch it is that seals your fate, puts a baby in a girl before it’s time. It can’t be a hug, surely not just a kiss, but you wouldn’t know as you’ve never dared. You’ll wait for Elvis to come back and make sure the fella you date and marry won’t get you in trouble in any of these ways. It’s complicated and confusing being a woman, and since that night of the funeral he seems to have taken the place of your mother, and you trust him in this.

“I’ll let you know.” you swear earnestly.

He kisses your cheek gently in response. Just a dry peck. That must not be the ruinous action in question, he wouldn’t do anything to tarnish you. It’s Elvis.

Elvis is a sullen but brave boy as he boards the army bus to ship him down south where it’s more Mexico than truly civilized but the world just calls it Texas. Or that’s what you hear from Gladys. You were not there to see him off, why should you be? You are busy and you have sworn off men and there’s a great deal to do in those dismal post holiday weeks. You do not pine for distractions, you don't have much energy to lie awake at night for long and rehearse the way his hand felt on your thigh, or his lips against your throat, or his fingers grazing the little swell of your belly where your womb is housed. These are passing, fitful and frantic thoughts, that pass through your mind before sleep takes you.

And Elvis is much the same, basic training is unkind, even to a man whose performances required much stamina. He crawls into his bunk and collapses most nights, staring with hooded eyes, at the newspaper clipping of you licking that damn icing, the picture he’s shown his new army buddies while announcing to them proudly “that’s ma girl, no, no, not the sort to fool with. The one I’m gonna have carrying my babies. Soon.”

Soon.

It’s a waste in the meantime, the way he spews his seed over the panties he stole from your room that morning he dressed you for the funeral, it’s a waste of precious fuel— fuel for his dream as it impotently coats and drips from the silk and makes him angry that he can’t find it in him to tamp down that restless heart of his, just settle down. Marry you already. Be a little respectable— sounds relaxing, sounds satisfactory. Sounds like something the Colonel would love for this whole “new image.”

That sours it all and he rolls over in his bunk with the sodden scrap of silk that no longer smells of you but of him and his wasted desire.

Soon, he tells himself, soon. After a little while.

It’s tragic really, the way we postpone snagging those things we know we want, the ones our gut lurches for, our soul craves as our conscience whispers “just do it.” Put off because life is too exciting to tone down, fun and girls are in abundance, and time seems very plentiful until it runs out in a great big whoosh of sand from the hour glass, taking with it those steady, stable, sure things we’ve counted on being there for an endless little while. Like your Mother. Just gone, and the universe doesn't pause to acknowledge your world is fractured, for everyone else it’s just tomorrow. Tomorrow is here and they’re not.

The shock of it jolts you, the regret nags you, the grief strips you back down to the bare bones of what you want and need. Elvis only knows one other person who he thinks gets how this feels as his train hurdles homeward to a coffin and a future that doesn't make any sense. Mama should have gotten to see him out of the army, gotten to see him do more, hit thirty, marry. Mama shoulda been able to meet those grandbabies she’d pestered him about but he put off for tomorrow.

Tomorrow is a bitter pill and he wants to spit it out, start over, refashion it just so. No more regrets, no more fighting his gut. He’d like to dig a shallow grave for a little while, fold himself into it and just rest a minute, learn to forgive his stupid ambition, catch a break. Wake up some thawed spring morning to the sight of you beside him in the daffodil covered earth, find the reason in your eyes that makes him choose to live again.

Still, he finds it in a little fur trimmed peacoat standing and waiting forlornly for him at the station.

You’re not a girlfriend, you’re not a fan, you’re just someone who lost their mama too, somebody who knows there’s not much to say, just a hug there on the crowded platform and “she was the reason for everything you ever did, wasn’t she?”

Was. She was. Now is about what is.

#reposting for masterlist purposes #since the other links are deactivated #cheers #elvis fanfiction #sarge and lil mama #the beginning #elvis imagine #elvis fanfic #elvis x reader #elvis x you #austin elvis imagine #elvis presley #Elvis x Elaine

[asmosmainhoe]

Breaking his heart (Dia)

If you want some positivity and a happy Dia after this then I recommend reading these:

Making him feel less lonely

Being his best friend

Diavolo Lucifer

Gender neutral MC

Warnings: a bit angst, MC turned out to be quite an asshole, heavy language

The prince's kind and warm way of treating others never fails to surprise new-comers or the residents of the Devildom in general. One would expect the ruler of hell to be scarier, more intimidating, striking fear in everyone's heart

But Diavolo doesn't make it a secret that he has a different approach of things. His laugh and wide smile melts even the coldest of hearts and talking to him is easy as cake. Never have you felt unwelcome or mistreated by the prince, in fact it's the opposite

He has tried his best to befriend you even which is...a bit complicated to say the least

It seems as if he always forgets about his position whenever he has a "friendly request" which makes said requests nearly impossible to decline. Whenever he asks you to stay over for lunch or dinner or whatever it makes you feel like you have no other choice than agreeing

It may not be his fault, but it's beyond uncomfortable especially since his fondness for you seems to grow extremely quickly

At some point you simply can't bear the burden by yourself anymore and seek Lucifer for advice. Surely the first-born understands the impossible position you've been put in, right?

"You better watch your tone. This is no way to speak about the Prince."

"No, no, I understand and you got me completely wrong. I do like him and I'm thankful for everything he has done for me, but you know...I feel like I have to walk on egg shells around him, do you know what I mean?"

He let's out a sigh

"MC, it's no secret that he holds feelings for you and-"

"But I don't want that! I don't want him to fall for me or whatever he has going on right now. I could never be with someone where I have to watch my words everytime I open my mouth. Please tell me that you can relate at least a little bit."

What you guys fail to notice is Diavolo on the other side of the door, overhearing everything you just confessed and the pain is unbearable

The tall demon takes up all his willpower to not gasp out loud, because it feels as if someone had knocked all the air out of his lungs

Surely you can't be serious about this? Before making a scene he decides to confront you about it over a casual dinner when the mood is relaxed and you two can talk it out like adults. Which he does

"MC, I'm afraid I must ask you something."

He does his best to put on a careless facade to not scare you, but you read right through his mask. You can tell by the way he's folding his hands on the table and by how his smile doesn't reach his eyes. Your stomach drops

"I've overheard your conversation with Lucifer and please do not be afraid to tell me the truth. Please forget about my title right now and tell me if it's true what you said in his study."

His words seem sincere, but all your ears hear is a command. In your perspective, you're a trapped animal

"Of course not-"

"Do not lie to me."

The harshness of his tone hits you like a slap to the face and anxiety builds up deep inside of you

"I'm sorry."

That's all you can mumble at the moment. It's impossible to guess what he feels or thinks. His face is stone cold, not one muscle is moving. If it wouldn't be for his chest falling and rising with every breath he takes you'd think he was frozen

"Tell me what you truly think about our friendship. Please."

This time his voice is softer, inviting you to trust him and you do. You fall for it

"You call this a friendship, but it's impossible to see it as one. I can't be honest with you and I can't decline your requests no matter how small it is. I just feel...a bit uncomfortable spending so much time with you. It's not you, please believe me. It's your title."

"I am deeply sorry that you feel that way."

Diavolo is completely shaken. The world around him is spinning and it's as if he's falling down an endless pit. He really considered you a close friend, more even

"Can I be honest with you as well?"

You don't want him to be

"Of course."

"I have actually been hoping for the possibility of us becoming more than friends-"

"For fuck's sake, Diavolo. Stop doing this."

Your words make him speechless and he opens his eyes wide. Your tone may be sharp, but all he can see in your eyes is desperation

"You're doing it again! You're putting me in an impossible position! That's what you do with everyone, do you not see it? And then I am the one who has to listen to you crying and whining about how no one treats you as an equal! We will never be equals or friends or partners. People like you, because you're friendly and kind for a ruler, but they don't like you as a friend and they never will."

Giving your rage in and throwing all these things at him is probably one of the most dangerous and stupidest things you've ever done, but it has to be said. He asked for the truth after all

Much to your surprise he just nods as if you've read the newspapers to him when in fact you ripped out his heart and dragged it through the entire Devildom and back

"If that is how you feel then I will make sure to avoid situations like this."

"Dia-"

The moment he lifts his hand you shut up. It might be a small gesture, but it underlines your statement

"Worry not. I will not hold any grudges against you."

There's a long silence before you pack your things and leave him alone on the balcony

Diavolo takes a moment to admire the view and feel the cold breeze in his hair

He can't hold any grudges, because you're absolutely right. Instead of being mad or upset over the fact that you broke his heart in the worst possible way he could have imagined, he feels nothing

You opened his eyes and he shall not make a fool out of himself anymore

The feelings his people hold for him will never be friendly in the way his soul aches for

And you will never be his either, but at least he was able to pretend for a short while

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #om! nightbringer #obey me x reader #obey me dia #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo #om! diavolo

[galaxyshine24-7]

Red Wine 🍷

Silver Bullet Chapter Four Red Wine

TW: Gangs, violence, explosions, drinking

“Woah so they really came in there trying to order Riddle around?!” Ace exclaims as he sits up on the couch. He is able to move around a bit more now that his wounds are healing. It’s been a few days since the encounter with Riddle and Ace still doesn’t believe Yuu no matter how many times they tell him the story. 

“Yeah, and I think he torched the guy right in the middle of my bar.” Yuu rubs their temple. Ace frowns at their expression, he can’t imagine it was a pleasant experience. 

“So did you grow up around NRC?” Ace tried his best to change the subject.

“Yeah, I grew up in an orphanage until I got picked up.” Yuu takes a bite out of their eggs. 

“Oh, I see what were your parents like?” Ace rubs his neck. 

“I can’t remember.” Yuu is glad Ace doesn’t ask any more questions as they need to get ready for the morning. 

Much like Riddle promised the bar looked good as new. The evidence from last night's fight is all but gone. Yuu at least had more time to prepare to open for the day. Grim and Ace come down as well. Ace wants to help now that he feels better, and Grim wants to eat his food in a dish Yuu placed downstairs. At least today should be quiet, the ding of the door chime catches their attention as a familiar green and orange-haired men greet them. 

“Hi, Yuu!” Cater waves. “Good morning Yuu and Ace.” Grim jumps up on the counter as Trey sets down a nicely decorated box. Cater goes over to Ace slinging an arm around his shoulders and and taking a few pictures with him. 

“Hey, Acey glad to see you’re okay, how about a few nice pictures for Riddle.” Cater’s phone flashes as he takes pictures from many angles with an annoyed Ace. 

“Good morning Trey, what can I get you?” Yuu leans against the counter as Trey pushes the box in front of them. 

“Nothing for today, I just wanted to bring you one of my pastries to apologize for last night.” Trey rubs the back of his neck. 

“I see.” Yuu takes the box as Grim sniffs the contents. “Thank you, It's not necessary though.” Yuu is pretty cautious of what could be inside. It's not every day Yuu gets a baked good from a mafia member. Yuu carefully opens up the box to at least see the treat. In all honesty, it looks delicious, it's a warm and fluffy cinnamon bun with the gooiest icing Yuu has ever seen. If they were going to die at least it's by the hands of a sweet mistress. They sniff the bun before taking a small bite. 

“It's so good, thank you, Trey.” Their eyes widen as they take another bite. 

“I’m glad you like it, I didn’t know what you would have liked.” He chuckles.

“Trey bakes the absolute best cakes you should come and try some Yuu, Riddle holds these Unbirthday parties and the food is always to die for.” Cater comes over to the counter. 

“Speaking of parties.” Trey takes out an envelope from his coat handing it to Yuu. “Riddle wanted to know if you could bartend for an upcoming party?” Now Yuu sees what this visit is all about. 

“Trey I know you're just the messenger, but I don’t want any part of the mafia.” Yuu sighs pushing the letter away.  

“Come on Yuu it will be fun and I promise last night’s fiasco won’t happen. The other mafia leaders are all more behaved.” Cater waves off their concern. 

“Cater-” Trey pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Well if the other mafia leaders of there then I certainly will not be a part of it.” Yuu finishes their bun throwing away the box. “Now I need to open the bar, and unless you need to order anything I prefer you don’t loiter.” Yuu start to put on their work apron. The two men share a look with each other, they then look over at Ace holding a broom. He crosses his arms at them, not going along with whatever they are trying to convey. 

“Please Yuu it would really lighten Riddle’s mood, and help out our members from his anger.” Cater looks them in the eye now. “Plus it will help younger members like Ace.” 

“Cater-” Trey starts.

“You know Riddle is going to want him home soon.” Cater traces his finger along the counter. “I know you have your reservations about us, but we are honest with our word and we do care for our members. You bartending can help keep the Queen at bay and Ace and Deuce will have an easier time.” Cater smiles. 

“Cater don’t-” Ace storms up to grab the other by the shoulder. 

“I’ll do it.” Silence cuts through the room. “But you guys better pay me handsomely.”

Trey nods handing them the letter as they open it. 

Its safe to say Ace is not happy about this arrangement neither is Deuce when he learns about what happened that day at the bar. The two tried for serval days to persuade Yuu against it, but their mind was already made up. Curse their sweet and tender heart, their teachers always said it would be the death of them. Now standing at the center of the lion’s den it couldn’t feel more true. 

The party takes place in the Heartslaybul district in its town hall. It's an old but charming building with a beautiful ballroom done up to the nines with very Heartslaybul-centered decor. Yuu stands behind a sleek bar watching the people come and go. On the surface, it seems like a classy party, but the place is filled with mafia members from all the different gangs around NRC. It's a good thing Yuu always paid attention to Crewel and Trein’s lessons. They are able to pick out different leaders from their descriptions alone. 

First, is Riddle wearing a pristine suit with a long flowing red cape. He has his own throne in the back of the hall with Trey and Cater at his sides. Then there is Leona Kingschalor lounging on a plush couch on the sidelines. The ruthless leader of Savanaclaw looks more like a lazy housecat from this light. His members are the ones that frequent the bar. His clan is mostly beastmen who seem to be a little restless having to be put into stuffy suits. 

Close by is Azul Ashegrotto, owner of the Mostro Lounge and leader of Octavinelle, mingling with any benefactors that are in the facility with the infamous Leech twins at his side. Kalim Al-sim and Jamil Viper leaders of Scarabia stick to themselves, more so Jamil than Kamil. Vil Schoenheit leader of Pomefiore and owner of several entertainment lines appears fashionably late gaining most of the attention from the passerby. Idia Shroud heir to Ignihyde Surveillance Corp. is nowhere to be seen only a tablet following around a robot boy marks his presence. Lastly, there are the members of Diasomnia their leader nowhere to be seen.

Yuu, wouldn’t really care about all these details, but Crewel was insistent on Yuu learning about the world of NRC. It could be a difference between life and death he would always say, but it just seemed dramatic. To think these people are the most feared people in all the district. They all seem to take themselves way too seriously in Yuu’s eyes.

“Hey, I want another drink!” A patron slams their hand on the counter trying their best to stay upright. Cleary drunk and the party just started, Riddle probably won’t be very happy that the partygoers are already getting drunk.  

“I’m going to have to cut you off,” Yuu replies cooly passing them a glass of water instead.

“Bullshit get me another shot!-” A large hand slams the patron's head to the counter. Yuu looks up to see a built young man with spikey white hair and wolf ears scowling down at the rude patron. 

“You’ve had enough now go back to your post before Leona catches you.” The young man growls letting go of the patron that Yuu realizes is from SavannaClaw. Their black and glow armband is placed rather sloppily on their suit. The patron curses under his breath holding his forehead as he walks away. The wolfman sits down in the now vacant seat facing Yuu. 

“Sorry about that.” The man rubs the back of his neck rather sheepishly. His eyes not looking at Yuu directly. 

“It's alright, I’ve had worse. Thank you for stepping in.” Yuu gives him a sincere smile going to pick up a glass. 

“Can I get you anything?”

“Uh no, water is just fine. I’m underage.” 

Huh? He’s not trying to trick Yuu as other teens would do. He seems like a very straight-laced guy, which is a bit weird seeing him in a gang. Yuu fills the glass with ice water handing it to the wolf man who jugs it down. 

“Thanks.” He wipes any loose drops away from his mouth. 

“No problem, what’s your name by the way?” 

“Jack, Jack Howl, and yours?” 

“Yuu, just Yuu.” 

He nods at their answer looking around at the crowd. 

“Do you work for Heartslabyul?” 

“No, I’m just catering for the night.” Yuu starts to clean off an empty glass.   

“Really? They usually only hire their own people for stuff like this.” He raises a brow. 

“Well, I’m a special case I guess.” Yuu sighs. 

“Yuu!” A yell comes from an afar as Ace drapes himself on the counter. “I’ve been standing around for hours I need some nourishment! Please make me a special drink.” He whines as Deuce comes up behind him. 

“Ace if you want nourishment there’s a food table,” Yuu states.

“Like I’m going around any food after the tart incident!” He gets up angrily. “Please you are the only one I can trust!” He dramatically holds Yuu’s hand as they just roll their eyes. “Fine, do you want one too Deuce?” Yuu looks over at him as he gives a sheepish nod. 

“Yes please.” He takes a seat with Ace as Yuu gets to work. As the three of them start to talk to each other. 

“Oh, you Jack Howl right?” Deuce perks up. 

“Yes, I am.” 

“I heard a lot about you, this is your first year doing all this stuff like us right?” Ace adds. 

“Yes, I was chosen to Savanaclaw this year.” Jack takes another sip of his drink. 

“We are the same but got chosen for Heartslabyul.” Deuce puffs out his chest. 

Of course, Yuu gives them non-alcoholic drinks each matching the theme the two Heartslaybul members seem to sport. Deuce got a nice mock Blue Lagoon, while Ace gets a refreshing mock strawberry daiquiri. They don’t waste time sipping on the drinks very satisfied with the results.

“When you say chosen? What do you mean?” Yuu is a little curious about their choice of words. Don’t you choose what gang you want to be in? 

“Well, basically there’s like this whole series of tests you have to take before being accepted to even join the top gangs. It takes place every year.” Ace explains. It did ring some sort of bell. 

“Then you get chosen by the magic mirror like they had back at Night Raven before the place blew up.” Deuce adds. “Then you get sorted in what used to be the dorms of the college, but nowadays it's used to sort people into gangs.” 

“Something about tradition and all that jazz.” Ace waves his hand. 

“I see.” Yuu goes to give someone another drink as the party continues. 

The three boys hang out around the bar chatting with Yuu and trying to stay out of everyone’s way. Thankfully the party went on smoothly and now it was time for the dinner portion. An adjacent room is set up with fine cutlery and pristine white tablecloths. Jack, Ace, and Deuce had to leave at that point so did Yuu as they brought out ingredients to make a large patch of drinks for the partygoers. Riddle gave them many instructions on what to serve and had to taste test all the options Yuu had suggested. Yuu would go around filling up everyone’s cups and serve them any drinks that they so chose as the night went on. The dorm leaders all sat at a table in front of the room having a deep discussion. Yuu takes a deep breath knowing at some point they had to go around the table to get orders. They walk over filling Riddle’s cup first with the drink he liked out of all the options for the party. 

“It seems like RSA needs another reminder to stay in their own territory.” Riddle takes a sip of the glass Yuu just poured, smiling at the taste. 

“I’ve seen many of their noisy brats in my territory as of late, they’re probably plotting something.” Leona sighs taking a bite out of his steak. Yuu fills his cup with a fruity, but altogether heavy alcoholic drink. Leona stares Yuu down as they fill his glass. His eyes drilling holes in their head. Yuu know when they're being examined, it's like a predator looking down on its prey. With a tsk, Leona turns his head back to the conversation letting Yuu continue on to the next person. 

“Honsetly I see no problem with it. RSA people have been coming a lot more often to my businesses allowing the overall raise of NRC’s profits so I see no reason to make such a fuss for now.” Azul adjust his glasses. He turns to give Yuu a smile as they pour him some water. 

“Thank you, dear, Azul Ashengrotto if you ever need anything.” He takes out his business card to hand to Yuu. With a small smile, Yuu takes the card and puts it in their back pocket. They know better then getting involved with Ashengrotto’s shady business practice. They have enough to deal with as it is. 

“Excuse me can I please have that drink?” Kalim points to a yellow and orange drink on Yuu’s tray. 

“Of course,” Yuu replies softly pouring the drink for Kalim. 

“Thank you so much,” Kalim takes a sip at the drink lighting up with a smile. “This is amazing did you make this? I have to invite you to come serve drinks like this at my parties.” 

“Kamil let me try it first, and pay attention.” Jamil shakes Kalim’s shoulder getting him to calm down. Jamil waves off Yuu not wanting a drink of any kind as he tastes Kalim’s. 

“Of course, you would only think about money Ashengrotto.” Vil snaps their fingers to get Yuu’s attention. Very irritating, but Yuu gives Vil a public service smile.

“I want your best champagne.” He orders as Yuu gets out the Champagne bottle from the ice bucket pouring it for Vil. He takes a delicate sip his face soon turning into a scowl. 

“Urgh disgusting give me water.” Yuu pours Vil some water instead as he waves them off. 

Next is the robot boy who tells Yuu they don’t need food or drink. 

“Servanillce of RSA has been pretty normal from my point of view.” The tablet in the robot boy's arms speaks. Then lastly is a strange-looking man with pink and black hair in a weird haircut. 

“Could Malleus not come tonight Lilia?” Azul asks from across the table. 

“He is busy tonight, so I’m here in his stead.” Lilia smiles turning to Yuu. “I’ll have the signature drink of tonight please.” 

Yuu pours Lilia his drink as he hums in delight at the taste.     

“Marvelous, I have to tell Sliver and Sebek about this.” He gives Yuu a playful smile as they go back to standing by the wall. 

“Of all the times to not come even when he was invited.” Leona snarks taking a sip of his drink.

“He is deeply sorry and will make it up next time.” Lilia gives Leona a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “But anyway thank you for the invitation Riddle your parties are always the best.” 

“It's simply my duty to uphold the Queen of Hearts teachings. It's a responsibility I hold dear.” Riddle states raising his glass for Yuu to come to refill it. Yuu does so quickly giving him a good amount before he sets the glass back down. 

“Well it's satisfactory, to say the least, but you could do better with your Champagne collection.” Vil crosses their arms. 

Riddle’s eye twitches at that as Trey and Cater give each other worried looks. 

“But the drink I got is amazing.” Kamil beams. 

“Yes the mixed drinks are very good Vil, you should try some,” Lilia suggests. 

“No, thank you I don’t know what was put in those things.” Vil scuffs. 

“It’s your loss,” Leona smirks jugging the rest of his drink. He leans back in his seat his eyes glancing up at Yuu. 

“Yo, herbivore!” He calls motioning Yuu over to the table. 

Yuu does so by standing by Riddle.

“What’s your name?” 

“Yuu.”

“Did you make this?” 

“Yes, I did.” 

“I don’t remember you getting new members Roshearts.” Leona glares at Riddle. 

“They are simply here to cater, I had a wonderful experience at their establishment.” Riddle smiles giving Yuu a knowing look. 

“Where do they work I would love to visit.” Kamil perks up. 

“The Silver Bullet, a bar downtown in the neutral territory.” Riddle answers sipping his drink. 

“That old place? It’s been closed for years.” Leona chuckles. 

“Well it seems it is open now, such a shame I was hoping to buy that part of downtown for a new business venture.” Azul sighs, glaring at Yuu. 

If the conversation could change the subject that would be great for Yuu’s frantic heart. 

“What’s so great about drinks anyway, let's just finish this I have a busy schedule.” The voice from the tablet, who Yuu guesses is Idia lets out an exacerbated sigh.

“Playing games is not really busy work.” Azul shakes his head. 

“As I was saying we need to respond to RSA actions.” Riddle ahems the group. Yuu could already see a vein starting to pop out of his head. 

“Unless RSA is directly trying to start conflict we best leave it alone. Any direct action could cause a misunderstanding. Besides I don’t need worry lines.” Vil crosses his arms. 

“I agree RSA is a pain to deal with on the regular unless we have more reason to deal with them I recommend not getting involved,” Azul adds.

“ As long as they don't cross the line, we won't either.” Leona leans back in the chair. 

Riddle lets out a sigh at their answers seeing that it was enough for now. 

Yuu thinks for a minute about the information. RSA or Royal Sword Academy is the other side of the coin from NRC. All be it the more shiny and safe side, RSA is the other half of the Grim Court known for its astonishing academy and its resources. Yuu has thought about someday moving to the countryside of RSA and buying a cottage to live out the rest of their days, it just feels right. 

It is common knowledge that the RSA and NRC  do not get along, the feud between them has been going on since the great seven days. The RSA police force and the NRC gangs have been at each other's throats for a long time, however, the conflict has not broken out since the fall of Night Raven College. Since then it's been a few scraps and territory disputes from what Trein would tell them. As long as it didn’t affect Yuu’s daily life it wasn’t their problem, though it did irk them a bit at the consistent fighting its like a bunch of children fighting over toys. At the end of the day, it’s the civilians that suffer.

Since the conversation starts to get heavy at the leader’s table Yuu goes around the room to see who needs drinks. A hand catches their attention as a boy with lavender locks and baby-blue eyes sits at a table with a flamboyant blonde man. Yuu pulls their tray over seeing the boy look away when they make eye contact.

“Excuse me can I please have?-” They whisper in Yuu’s ear very soft and sweet. 

“Of course.” Yuu gets to work making a non-acholic apple martini. Crewel and Sam as taught them many tricks to get extra tips as they showcased them for the table. The blonde man claps each time Yuu finishes a trick until the drink is done. 

“Here you go, sir.” Yuu sets the drink on the table. 

“You can just call me Epel.” He downs the drink letting out a deep sigh. “Thank you that helped a lot.” 

“Beaute! 100 points!” The man yells making the two jump.

“Rook, geez don’t do that.” The boy glares.

“Sorry Monsieur Crabapple, I just couldn't help it. Monsieur Trickster is truly remarkable.” He sings. 

Now Yuu gets a weird nickname? Great, hopefully, they never see this man again. Epel thanks Yuu for the drink as they push the cart to another part of the room.

“Human over here!” Yuu turns to the sound of the voice as does everyone else in the vicinity. A man with bright green hair and an intense stare stands up from his table. Yuu rushes over to him so he doesn’t cause a scene. Next to him is another man, but with silver hair and a sleepy expression.

“Sebek don’t yell it's rude.” The sleepy man yawns. 

“Don’t boss me around Silver! I need to be attentive to Master Lilia’s needs, unlike some people.” He glares, his sharp teeth showing through his scowl. “Human!” He shouts at Yuu again. 

“Y-yes?” 

“I need my glass of water refilled with haste!” He shows Yuu the empty glass holding it out to them. 

“Oh okay.” Yuu fills his glass to the top. 

“Thank you. You may leave now!” He sits back down. 

Yuu walks away quickly glad this party is about to end.

As the night went on the crowd decreased in number until the hall was ready to be cleaned for the night. Yuu washes the bar’s glasses and counters, letting out a stretch at a job well done.

“Hey, Yuu.” Deuce jogs over to the bar letting out deep pants. “I’m ready to take you home.” He rests on the counter’s edge. 

“Thank you again, Deuce.” Deuce is how Yuu got to the venue in the first place. He has a magic wheel he built himself, and it's pretty fast to get around the districts. Yuu makes sure they have their things as they follow Deuce to the parking lot. Yuu couldn’t help but yawn when they stepped out into the cool night air. 

“Tired?” Deuce takes out his keys. 

“Yeah extremely, that was exhausting.” Yuu hops on the backseat of the bike as Deuce gets situated in the front. 

“Thank you for coming, again I don’t think it would have gone smoothly without you.” He starts the vehicle up. 

“No problem-” Yuu gets jerked back as Deuce takes off. Once they get time to settle the ride is rather peaceful as they make it back to the bar safe and sound. 

“Home sweet home.” Yuu sighs getting off the magic wheel. “Thank you, Deuce, have a good night.” Yuu wraps the man in a tight embrace before heading inside. 

“B-bye Yuu…” Deuce stutters.

Yuu doesn’t notice how red Deuce gets as he drives away in a hurry. 

Yuu is greeted by a dark bar and then an apartment when they head upstairs. Grim sleeps soundly on the couch with his food bowl in the kitchen licked clean. With heavy eyelids and sore arms, Yuu takes a quick shower flopping into bed soon after, listening to the sounds of the city.

The ground shakes under Yuu as they jolt awake to the sound of screams and glass falling on the ground. They fall out of their bed hearing the sound of Grim yowling as they scramble to the front room to see the poor kitty hunched in fear. Yuu dashes across the room grabbing Grim under their arm as they hide under the coffee table curling into a fetal position. Grim cries loudly with each shake as it sounds like the world is falling around them. The explosions go on for what feels like hours until it stops. The sound of car alarms and people screaming are all that remain. Yuu sticks their head out from under the table looking around to see if the coast is clear. 

“Grim!” The cat had enough of getting hugged in a tight grip as he escapes from Yuu’s hold. Yuu makes their way out from under the table to follow the feline finding him hiding under their bed. That’s when they look out the window in shock pulling it open to see the towers of smoke rising all across NRC. 

Inspire by Jackplushie's Silver Bullet AU, thanks for reading

#twisted wonderland #my writing #twst silver bullet au #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #silver bullet au #writings #twisted wonderlandxreader #mafia au

[saintsenara]

this piece was written for the second @ladiesofhpfest monthly minis, this time focusing on lily evans. you can read the first piece i did for this challenge - on andromeda tonks - here, and find the masterlist of all the pieces written for andromeda here.

today, even though we're looking at lily, the perspective is someone else's: her much maligned and often overlooked sister, petunia.

petunia's letter to dumbledore, written just before her sister starts at hogwarts, is one of those incidental details which are dropped into canon and then never addressed again and which now live rent-free in my mind. i've always wondered what she said. i've always wondered why she wanted to follow her sister - with whom, from what we see of snape's memories, she doesn't seem to be particularly closely aligned in terms of personality, sense of daring etc. - to a castle in the middle of nowhere. i've always wondered why she wanted to be magic.

this is what i think she said.

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

My name is Petunia Evans.

I am thirteen years old and I live in Cokeworth with my parents and my sister, Lily. We are ordinary people - Muggles, your deputy headmistress called us - with a normal house and normal clothes. My father has a normal job, my mother keeps a normal home, my sister and I squabble like normal girls.

I am writing because, in ten days time, you will be taking my sister away from me.

We were supposed to go to school together - to St Andrew’s High School, where everyone we know goes - which is the normal thing to happen. But now Lily is going to your school, and I won’t be there to show her what you do at lunchtime or how to take books out of the library or to tell her which teachers are creepy and which ones are nice. I did that when she started in the infants and it's something I should be doing again. It's my job as her big sister, and I believe in doing things properly.

But instead people like you are taking Lily somewhere where everyone says I can’t follow. And nobody’s explained to me what I should say when people at school ask me why my little sister isn’t in the first form this September. Because if I just say that she’s gone to a boarding school, then people will ask why I’m not there too. Things might be different in your world, but in ours sisters go to the same school, and it's not right if they don't.

Lily rolls her eyes when I say this. Since she found out that she was a witch, she has taken to pretending that we were never the best of friends. Having been best friends with your sister isn't special enough, I suppose.

But we were. Totally inseparable, mummy called us. Never saw one without the other.

So I know that, when she gets to your school, Lily will probably pretend that she’s not related to someone like me. How could she be? After all, people have always stopped mummy to say that she’s pretty and sweet, with her red hair and her big eyes. They never stop her to talk about me. I’m just plain old Petunia, with yellow hair. Lily thinks I cry all the time and when we’re fighting she says that I look like a horse.

And now you’ve made that even worse. Because she thinks how can I be related to someone like Petunia? After all, Lily’s a witch, Lily’s magical, Lily will want to stick with her own sort, to have magical friends.

And I’m just a Muggle.

But - the thing is - I showed her magic first. Maybe it’s not as impressive as the sort of magic your lot can do - I can’t fly or make flowers bloom - but I was the first person who showed her that things are not what they seem, that everything can be transformed if you just know how. I was the first person who showed her how you can change boring things into fun ones by making them a game. I showed her how you can change flour and eggs and butter and sugar into a cake. I showed her how you can turn the black-and-white lines of a colouring book into a real picture. I taught her that snow melts and the garden comes alive again. I taught her that grazed knees scab and then the scab falls off and they’re healed. 

I was going to show her all the magic which grown ups get to have. We were going to move to London - or Manchester, or Liverpool, or Birmingham, anywhere, really - and go to restaurants and the cinema every night. We were going to get good jobs and trade silly stories about our bosses. We were going to get married, and be each other’s maid-of-honour, and have children, and be the favourite aunt. We were going to live next door to each other and gossip over the garden wall, and our children were going to grow up and be the very best of friends.

Aren’t those things magic too?

I think so. But Lily has already stopped thinking of them that way. She already looks down at the magic we used to have, and I want to stop that and let everything be as it should be. With me as the big sister.

I know that I could learn magic too, because I’ve already done so much of it. Please offer me a place at your school. I enclose my latest reports, so you can see that I’m clever and well-behaved. I look forward to your letter.

Yours sincerely,

Petunia Evans

#asenora fics #petunia dursley #red and gold #ladies of hp fest #monthly minis

[choccyhearts]

eddie munson can't cook...

this is a popular headcanon and while i do agree,,,,

as a delusional loser, i'm going to say:

eddie munson can't cook and has never been able to cook until he found his mother's recipe book

while decluttering the trailer for spring cleaning, wayne finds an old box filled with random documents, knick knacks and something left for eddie from his mother

wayne smiles sadly as he holds the old book. it's worn on the corners and the spine is creaky and frail. a few of the pages are weak from water droplets and rips

he calls eddie over and hands him the book

the air leaves eddie's body as he looks at the forgotten thing. small flashes of memories flow through his mind -- thanksgivings, sunday mornings, his 6th birthday. just a handful of the times he saw his mother drag her finger along the pages and occasionally scribble and scratch with her chewed on pen

he blinks slowly as his eyes scan each page, his mother's handwriting sharp and curly but somehow he can read it just fine

when he lies in bed that night he reads the book over and over and over;

potato casserole ...

deviled eggs ...

choclate chip brownies ...

eddie's favorite birthday cake ...

all of those times his mother asked him to close his eyes or leave the room so her secret ingredients wouldn't be revealed echo in his ears. all those " needs extra something"s printed on these pages forever

he decides to not let his mother's cooking die with her

over the course of a month, he saves all of his money up, waiting for the right day to hit the grocery store and stock up

when he gets back from the store, he drops all the bags on the counter. he flicks on the tv to some horror movie and cracks open a beer -- it's not his mother's glass of cheap red wine and soap operas but close enough

he stays in the kitchen all day, sweating from the heat of the stove and oven and from his anxiety shooting through the roof. the most he's ever done before is scrambled eggs and even then, wayne's had to step in before

but he reads his mother's words carefully, slowly. he lets her guide his hands as he stirs and whisks and chops

it's nightfall when he's done. despite snacking on the ingredients and a bag of chips, he's still hungry, excited to chow down

wayne comes in surprised at what his boy's done. eddie sheepishly asks wayne if he wants to try everything. wayne chuckles and sits down at the table

as they go through each dish, eddie's heart twists and thumps. if you could eat a memory, a vision, he was doing just that

while he's proud of himself, he can't help but feel a little disappointed and unsatisfied. everything was a little off. small bits were burnt or a little under cooked, a little too much salt here, too many onions there

wayne tells him to go easy on himself, there's still more time to keep cooking

so eddie keeps cooking.

he starts incorporating it into his daily life. he "buys" other books and cuts recipes out of magazines; if he can do this recipe than he'll have no issue doing this other one

but of course, the best part of cooking is sharing

so he makes snacks for hellfire. bakes his friends' favorite dessert on their birthdays. invites them over some nights just to try whatever new creation he's found or thought up

holidays may not be fruitful with presents but a delicious hot meal is always guaranteed now. when he eats at restaurants or other people's homes he's able to dissect what's in the food and appreciate the time and energy it takes to get made

soon, his mother's recipe book is stuffed with sticky notes of comments or thoughts eddie has; "half the butter for wayne's cholesterol", "exclude the hazelnuts for gareth", "add lemon zest", "sprinkle parmesan on top - fresh"

eddie munson can't cook and has never been able to cook, until he found his mother's recipe book. now, he's the scary, evil metalhead dungeon master who knows how to properly whip meringue and cook a holiday dinner

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #stranger things #st4

[natsumesakasaki666]

Tsumugi FS2 Sharing the happiness

Characters: Tsumugi, Ritsu, Anzu

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Tsumugi: (….phew. I managed to finish all the work I wanted to this morning)

(I’m sure everyone in the office can handle the rest. It looks like I can take the afternoon off as planned)

Excuse me everyone. I have finished my work for today, so I’m heading out

Ritsu: …huh? Aoba oniisan, are you leaving? It’s rare to see you leave early.

Tsumugi: Good morning Ritsu-kun! Isn’t it also rare for you to be in the office at this time of day?

Ritsu: Not so much these days, right? I woke up a bit earlier this morning to go pick up a script I need for work later.

I’ve been taking work much more serious lately. So in return I want Aoba oniisan to praise me~

Tsumugi: ahaha, I guess I should. Thanks for taking work seriously, it’s been a huge help. I really appreciate it, Ritsu-kun!

Ritsu: just like that, it feels nice to receive praise♪

Putting that aside, Aoba oniisan do you have something important this afternoon? Otherwise you wouldn’t be heading out so early, right?

Tsumugi: I’m not heading out for anything important, I’m just taking the afternoon off! I was thinking of baking some sweets today.

Ritsu: Sweets? I don’t recall Aoba oniisan ever having a hobby of baking sweets.

Tsumugi: it’s because I don’t. Today’s lucky activity is baking sweets♪

Ritsu: So that’s why… Taking an afternoon off of work just to increase your luck is an oddly extravagant way to spend time.

Well, you always overwork yourself, so I’ll let it go this time.

Ritsu: …. Huh, is that-? Anzu-chan. What are you doing at entrance with your eyes looking all over the place? Is there someone you’re looking for?

Tsumugi: You were looking for me? Sorry, I didn’t notice. So, what did you need from me?

…… it’s been decided that I’m up next for a “feature live”. So if there’s time, you’d like to have a meeting about it right away?

You came at just the right time! I took the entire afternoon off so I have plenty of time!

Ritsu: oh no you don’t. Rather than right timing, it’s actually bad. It’s your day off, why do you want to attend a meeting on such short notice!?

I’m sorry Anzu but isn’t this too sudden? He already made plans to bake sweets this afternoon.

Tsumugi: Fufu. How kind of you to get angry for me. Thank you Ritsu-kun.

Actually, I originally took the afternoon off to be available for any urgent requests, so it’s alright.

Eh? What is it, Anzu-chan? “It’s that’s the case, it’s ok to have the meeting at a later date” ?

“ instead, I’d like to take photos of you baking sweets” you say?

If I remember, there was talk of taking off shots for the pamphlet.

Ritsu: that’s smart. Anzu-chan is very calculating. In that case, this can be considered “good timing”.

Tsumugi: fufu. These will truly be off shots of me. Of course I’ll let you take photos

If that’s decided, shall we go to the shopping mall now?

First I need to go buy ingredients to bake the sweets.

——scene change to shopping mall——

Tsumugi: umm… cake flour, cake flour…. Ah. Found it!

I’m pretty sure we have eggs and milk in the Starmony Dorms, so the only thing left is heavy whipping cream.

“What kind of sweets are you planning to make” you say? Now that I think of it, I guess I didn’t tell Anzu-chan what I plan on making.

I’m planning on baking cupcakes! I had trouble deciding on something while looking through a recipe book. I felt like I would fail if I chose something too difficult…

Also when baking cupcakes, you can make lots of them and have different toppings on each one!

Ritsu: Toppings~? Wouldn’t these matsutake mushrooms be good? They smell great too, like autumn

Tsumugi: I know it’s a bit late but, why is Ritsu-kun following us?

Ritsu: because Anzu and Aoba oniichan got all excited and left, leaving me all alone. Both of you need to pay more attention to me~

Tsumugi: but Ritsu-kun, you must be busy too… Ah, you only have work later in the evening, right?

Ritsu: yup. And since we’re recording at night, I have a lot of free time until then.

I have experience in baking sweets. So that’s why I thought I’d be great to bake sweets together with Aoba oniisan♪

Tsumugi: I’d certainly be more at ease if I were alongside someone who is familiar with baking.

Ritsu: fufu. If im with you, these sweets will turn out a success. If you’re going to make cupcakes, you have to play around with the ingredients.

Let’s throw in some matsutake mushrooms. And a couple octopus legs might be good too.

Tsumugi: Ah, wait Ritsu-kun! I’m the one who’s baking so please don’t add in any ingredients without my permission!

The color of the ingredients is especially important! I’m taking account of today’s lucky color!

Ritsu: eh~? Did the fortune reading specify this too? Isn’t it good enough as long as it tastes good?

Tsumugi: Of course not! I’m baking these sweets to bring good luck, so that’s the one thing I won’t negotiate on! *camera flashes*

Ah…. Anzu-chan, could it be that you took a photo of me just now?

Ahaha, it’s a bit embarrassing to be photographed because I was getting slightly irritated by Ritsu-kun just now.

Ritsu: but you got a good rare photo, didn’t you? It’s not everyday you see Aoba oniichan get mad.

Tsumugi: Anzu-chan, please don’t just smile and nod~. It’s really embarrassing, ok?

Well if Anzu-chan thinks it’s good, there’s nothing I can do about it. I should be positive and think about how it’s a good photo that can be used in the pamphlet.

Anyways, Anzu-chan, Is there any toppings that you prefer?

Although I am concerned about today’s lucky color, please let me know.

I want to treat Anzu-chan to some delicious cupcakes too!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

#ensemble stars #switch #tsumugi aoba #ritsu sakuma

[bohemian-nights]

If nettles was a white girl like Alys, dumbyra fans wouldn’t say shit. Look at laena and daemon regardless of them being married in the books they hated the fact of them being together in the show and how they did there relationship was disgusting. I was really irked on how daemon and Rhaenyra had sex in the most disrespectful way like Laena was just laid to rest and she found if a way to get with her uncle!! Then disappeared for 6 years from court and act’s surprised that the hightowers and vaemond are plotting against them like YOU’VE DONE NOTHING BUT POP OUT BABIES FOR THE PAST 6 YEARS!!!!! I can’t stress how much I hate the whole Daemon loves Rhaenyra more than anything, if he loves her sooo much why did he do the following

1) steal her dead baby brother’s egg

2)called himself the “rightful heir” to the throne after she was named heir

3)called her dead brother “heir for a day”

4) left her to fight in the stepstones and ignored her for years

5) almost ruined her reputation by taking her to a brothel

6)left her alone at night in the most dangerous place in kings landing

7)left her again during her wedding where she almost got trampled

8)undermines her during the plot to take kings landing

9) ignores her calls during her labor

10) ignores her call to come back to kings landing

11) he literally chokes her when he finds out that Viserys never thought of him as heir

Like they gaslight themselves into believing that this is okay, it’s not

Now I do understand the age difference between nettles and daemon is very important she’s 17 and he’s 49 but I think that they are more healthier relationship. I feel that nettles is more patient with daemon and they have better communication, she’s not afraid to tell daemon like “hey you do realize that this is fucked up” and he grows more as a person with her. Nettles isn’t spoiled and doesn’t like to be spoiled much and daemon likes that. Rhaenyra can act like a baby sometimes and it annoys him when she gets like that.

Sorry for the big rant but I know when nettles is casted and when we see her actor she’s gonna get hate from people WHO SHIP AN UNCLE WHO GROOMED HIS FUCKING NIECE. I’m going to war for my girl Nettles.

This wasn’t a rant, this was a read👏🏽 I honestly think that if Nettles were white(hell if she were actually non-Black like how they try to insist she is because they don’t want a Negro with Daemon) then a good portion of these racist stans would have jumped ship already.

Dumbnyra has always been a disaster of a ship(in the show and the books which 99% weren’t shipping this trash until said show).

There were glaring red flags from the get-go (the 1st “romantic moment” Rhaenyra is underage), but because they are self-inserting (this includes the weirdo self-haters who are fine with throwing other “WOC” under the bus to live out their Aryan obey me or I’ll nuke you fantasies) into her and can’t relate to anyone who isn’t white they are holding onto this Titanic of a ship for dear life.

I'm glad you mentioned Alys. People may hate her now, but the moment she shows up on screen and interacts with Aemond I can guarantee that most of that hate(which is mostly from Hellmann's shippers who only like their insane crackship that they pretend is canon because it’s a self insert ship) will fade away.

With Alys there, who’s also white and is Aemond’s actual love interest, Helaena won’t be needed anymore. So they’ll drop her faster than a hot cake, do a 180, say who’s Helaena, and ole girl will become the new self-insert.

That’s not going to be the case for Nettles(and yeah sadly her actress is going to get a lot of hate so prayers to her).

If you guys don’t believe us literally go pull up any fandom with a Black woman as a love interest and see the bullsh*t and excuses that are written.

Every single time the actresses get verbally attacked(they get called literal racial slurs see Candice Patton-The Flash), the showrunners do them, and their characters(Kat Graham-Vampire Diaries and Nicole Beharie-Sleepy Hollow), the fans of said characters and ships get attacked(this fandom is already starting it), and there are a million and one think pieces on how her character “doesn’t need a man” or how the ship she’s in isn’t “good for her”(all while these same people excuse actual abusive relationships like Dumbnyra).

People always say oh it isn’t about race it’s actually about xyz, but if every time you are complaining when you see a Black woman as the love interest, yeah it’s about race🤷🏽‍♀️ You guys don’t like seeing Black women in romantic relationships especially with your faves. It’s the same song and dance and now they are doing it with Nettles under the guise of “caring.”

If you ship Dumbnyra(and I’ve seen several of these shippers drawing art that’s supposed to be romantic where Rhaenyra is a literal child) and then fix your mouth to say Daemon and Nettles relationship is somehow bad for Nettles and that people promoting it want Netty to be abused (translation: I don’t want my self insert to be left for a Black girl, but I can’t come out and say that so I’ll just pretend to care about this Black girl when I’m actually cheering on for her to be axed or played by a white woman, yes I’ve seen some of these ignorant people want Nettles to be white because the Velaryons were made Black🙃).

The dynamic between Daemon and Nettles isn’t anything like Daemon and Rhaenyra. The only thing they’ve got in common is that Nettles is young and even then she’s technically an adult and she’s probably going to be aged up to be Laena’s book age in the show. The moment that happens they’ll find some new excuse(I don’t want Nettles to look like a ho knowing damn well their self insert was out their chasing after a freshly widowed man and they cheered it on) why Daemon and Nettles shouldn’t happen.

Yeah, they did have a much healthier relationship and Daemon grows from his time with her(something he never did with Rhaenyra). He grows enough to put her ahead of everyone including his wife’s rule and his own safety(which is what Nettles deserves), but we are lost in the sauce. 100% it’s protect Nettles over here 🙌🏽

#now I started actually ranting #yes the age gap is very large but you guys really don’t care about that #that’s just the excuse you guys use #daemon targaryen #nettles #daemon x nettles #netty #bnask #bnasks #daemon targaryen x nettles #nettles x daemon #dettles