#the what???? excuse me???????????? you said this was a one pot recipe!!

[lights-all-askew]

when I am emperor it will be punishable by death to call a recipe "one pot [X]" if it, in fact, used multiple pots

#looking for recipes that dont create 1 million dishes and the bloggers are on my last nerve #'put X in the skillet while you cook Y in the instant pot' #the what???? excuse me???????????? you said this was a one pot recipe!! #'serve over pasta' #over pasta???? how did i cook the pasta ma'am?????? where did the pasta come from???? #i used a pot to make the sauce. and now. suddenly. at the end of this recipe. suddenly i also have cooked pasta! interesting!!! #did i? perhaps? bOIL the pasta? in a pOT???

[astonmartinii]

a spoonful of sugar | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem chef!reader

cheffing it up all over the calendar

MASTERLIST | TIPS

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 124,509 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: WOAH WHAT IT'S OSCAR'S HOME RACE WEEK? that mean's it's time to whack out the aussie cook book mama piastri got me for christmas and man this fish has a cool name. BARRAMUNDI is a fish very commonly used in aussie cuisine (real ones know it from masterchef australia). so here i've pan seared it with some herbs and some lemons and take it from me it SLAPS, but you know what i hope slaps more? oscar this weekend... LET'S GO BABY

[as always this recipe is on my website and will be in my 2024 f1 calendar recipe book coming out soon]

view all comments

user1: FAVES OMG PARENTS

user2: my favourite thing is where i read intently all of y/n's recipe and continue to make pot noodles

yourusername: pot noodles are good i can't even be mad

oscarpiastri: can confirm it did in fact SLAP

yourusername: oh wow piastri stamp of approval that's basically a michelin star

oscarpiastri: tbf i would eat a roll of paper towels if it was you who gave it to me

yourusername: okay.... I'LL TAKE IT

user3: can we please study these people cause why is saying you'd eat paper towels is the pinnacle of romance

user4: i NEED the recipe book STAT

landonorris: i was on board with this whole cooking thing but FISH IS WHERE I DRAW THE LINE

yourusername: oh boy we got a BABY ON THE LINE

landonorris: i'm allowed to like what i like my MUM said so

yourusername: bro is an elite athlete and exclusively eats chicken nuggies

landonorris: @oscarpiastri tell your girlfriend to stop bullying me

oscarpiastri: i'm on her side buddy maybe explore the culinary world

landonorris: that's it i'm going to HR

yourusername: try it girly the mclaren HR team LOVE my food

user5: the dynamics since oscar and y/n got comfortable in the sport are my favourite things

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, landonorris and 793,288 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: first time on the podium at my home race and the feeling is unreal. so thankful to have my family and love of my life around me, lets keep building on this !!

view all comments

user7: THANK THE LORD MCLAREN KEPT THEIR SHIT TOGETHER IN 2024 OSCAR FIRST WIN COMING IN FAST

yourusername: I AM TOTALLY FINE ABOUT THIS AND I AM NOT SOBBING UNCONTROLLABLY BECAUSE I AM SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU AT ALL TIMES I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

oscarpiastri: I LOVE YOU TOO SO MUCH AND I LOVE SHARING THIS WITH YOU AND SEEING THE WORLD WITH YOU AND REACHING OUR DREAMS TOGETHER

user8: are they good?

logansargeant: from the man currently waiting for them to go to dinner and can hear them yelling this stuff to each other... no they are not okay and i don't think they ever have been

yourusername: LOGIE BEAR I AM SORRY I CANNOT CONTAIN MY LOVE FOR OSCAR

oscarpiastri: jealous bitches gonna be bitter

logansargeant: ??? excuse me

oscarpiastri: i'm sorry i got excited... love you logan (just not as much as y/n)

user9: this comment section is once again making me want to sneak into an F1 after party :(

user10: they're just going to dinner they've not even started drinking yet 😭

landonorris: i am proud of you mate - why is y/n dancing around in the kitchen in an apron that says "this chef FUCKS"

yourusername: fashion. (it says oscar piastri in small print right under that)

landonorris: i didn't need to know that

oscarpiastri: let her dance it makes the food taste even better

landonorris: there's definitely no fish right?

yourusername: no fish by order of the fussy child

landonorris: bullying online and in person @maxverstappen1 @charles_leclerc @logansargeant STEP IN

maxverstappen1: eh i'm good i'm looking forward to dinner

charles_leclerc: you're on your own with this one lando

logansargeant: i've learnt not to cross y/n

user11: the piastris invited lando, logan and the rest of the podium? i am soft

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 162,994 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: a big post podium celebration dinner at the piastri house to celebrate oscar's home podium. first off, super duper proud. second, since it was a strictly no fish evening, i decided to go for classic aussie meat pies and grilled kangaroo LOL but there was only clean plates at the end so i'll defo consider adding it to the recipe book

view all comments

user12: i am getting a sugar rush this is so sweet

logansargeant: thank you for having me, a solid 9/10 - one point docked because kangaroos are cute

yourusername: wait until you run into one on a cold, wet evening

oscarpiastri: they are actually very scary and have a stealing problem

yourusername: tbf i think we all have a stealing problem

oscarpiastri: you definietly do ... cause you stole my heart

logansargeant: EW NOT ON MY COMMENT THREAD

user13: i'm so lonely

maxverstappen1: i definitely did not think i was going to eat kangaroo this week but here we are

yourusername: did you like it?

maxverstappen1: i was shocked at how much i did

oscarpiastri: babe get that on the review cover of the recipe book this guy got three championships that has to mean something

yourusername: good idea i'm on it

maxverstappen1: ???

landonorris: you fed me kanga and roo from winnie the pooh? Y/N YOU FED ME KANGA AND ROO FROM WINNIE THE POOH?

yourusername: you eat chicken all the time and you don't feel sorry for chicken little

oscarpiastri: she ate you up there PUN INTENDED

landonorris: i've learnt my lesson i'm giving up here

charles_leclerc: i for one had a blast and will be asking for y/n to cater my birthday party

oscarpiastri: FOR A PRICE

charles_leclerc: you her guard dog or something?

oscarpiastri: duh? have you seen her?

yourusername: i would love to (idk monagasque cuisine though so give me notice)

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 152,339 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, logansargeant

yourusername: IMOLA, IMOLA MY HEART LIVES IN ITALIA AND MY STOMACH LIVES WITH ITALIAN FOOD. for real. the track is cute and whatnot but the real star is the pasta, the pizza, the gelato but most importantly the PASTA. here is two dishes that'll feature in the imola chapter: a burrata dish and a ragu !! oscar (and lando) certified so you know it's good, oscar even helped so it's defo beginner friendly!!

view all comments

user17: is it a collective f1 driver experience to be ass at cooking

danielricciardo: yes

maxverstappen1: yes

oscarpiastri: yes

landonorris: yes

charles_leclerc: YES

oscarpiastri: if i'm slow this weekend it's because i couldn't stop eating the ragu sorry mclaren

yourusername: i made sure no gelato until sunday so please don't take me out back and shoot me over giving him pasta

mclarenf1: bring some pasta for social media admin and no one has to know

yourusername: deal

landonorris: this is a public instagram comment section

charles_leclerc: why is mine always so darn crunchy

yourusername: inpatient, common amongst you drivers. oscar was once so impatient when boiling an egg he got it out and it was just watery egg

oscarpiastri: you said you wouldn't tell anyone :(

yourusername: no babe i'm proud !!! you've come so far

oscarpiastri: it's true i made my own omelette the other day :)

yourusername: and it was yummy

oscarpiastri: and it was yummy :)

user18: the positive affirmations in this relationship really keep me going

yourusername: he IS the MOST beautiful racer in all of the lands

oscarpiastri: she IS the PRETTIEST chef in all of the kitchens

oscarpiastri

liked by alexalbon, yourusername and 775,431 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: not the race we wanted in spain, but we're still in good spirits and in the conversation at the top of the standings! also helps that when you get taken out of the race your girlfriend shovels the BEST paella ever into your mouth until you finally smile

view all comments

user19: bro got a girlfriend and personal chef all in one

yourusername: food is my love language and when babe gets twatted into the barriers by SOMEONE i will personally feed him some of his favourite food

user20: she's holding back

yourusername: PR said i couldn't say anything...

oscarpiastri: i love youuuuuuuuu and i love your paella i think it's laced with crack

logansargeant: @fia GET HIS ASS

yourusername: LOGIE BEAR?

logansargeant: i'm sorry, we're pretty desperate for the p7 here at williams

yourusername: i respect that

oscarpiastri: Y/N????

yourusername: MORE PAELLA

carlossainz55: big respect for the paella, definitely looks authentic

yourusername: OBVIOUSLY IT'S AUTHENTIC DO YOU THINK MY QUALIFICATIONS ARE A JOKE

yourusername: lol sorry thank you actually SPANISH F1 DRIVER APPROVED PAELLA

oscarpiastri: @fernandoalo_oficial can we get another good review please and thank you

fernandoalo_oficial: looks good, need a taste to be sure

yourusername: it's coming your way (please return the tupperware tho please)

mclarenf1: you'll come back stronger oscar 💪

oscarpiastri: fuelled by love and paella

yourusername: fuelled by VENOM AND THE WILL TO WIN AND CRUSH THE COMPETITION

oscarpiastri: and that 🫶

note: here's a short and sweet one that MAY return to finish out this fictional season ... i also just love this kind of set up for an imagine. it's a lil short i know but the CHRISTMAS CRAFTS ARE COMING IN FAST AND THE CROSS STITCH CHRISTMAS CARDS ARE SLAYING THE HOUSE DOWN

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #oscar piastri instagram au #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Coming Home (Part 8)

Azriel x Reader

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

Just saying again if I’ve accidentally missed you off the tag list, please drop me a message and let me know! I don’t want to miss anyone ❤️

Warnings: Nah. I think we all know I eat angst for breakfast by now. 🫣

⧪

A week later, your only relief was keeping busy.

Day in and day out, you threw yourself into the world of your work, lost yourself in the glorious art that was magical healing. Every minute of the day was filled with walk-ins at the clinic, or the more urgent home visits you travelled out to. And come evening time, when the patient footfall thinned out into nothing, you crushed herbs and mixed ingredients until you were healing your own cuts, your own burns, making salves and tonics and long-forgotten medicinal recipes that were fading on the pages of the dusty old book you so often buried your nose into. 

Anything to keep your thoughts off of him. To keep that ache from ripping you open inside.

That evening, like every other over the past week, you hid yourself away in your little back room. It had become a solace of sorts, a place that was yours to linger in for as long into the night as you needed. Sometimes you even slept there.

You wiped a sheen of sweat from your brow as you drained the water from the herbs you’d been boiling. Lost in the punchy aromas and the steam creating a shroud around you, you just about jumped out of your skin when you turned to find a figure in the doorway. You winced as a few droplets of boiled water sloshed over the rim of the ceramic pot, spraying your arm.

“Shit.” Lucien marched over, easing the pot from your hands and placing it on the counter. “Sorry — I did knock. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.” You wiped your hands on your apron, the sting already gone. “What brings you here?”

“I was on my way to that family dinner I’ve been so generously invited to. Thought I’d drop by here and offer to walk you there.”

Shit — you’d forgotten about the dinner you’d agreed to. And thus, forgotten to come up with a good excuse as to why you couldn’t attend. You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid these things forever, but to see Azriel so soon — to sit across the table from him and act like everything was fine — was a prospect that made you feel sick.

Lucien seemed to notice your hesitation. He frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” You quickly said — you really didn’t feel like explaining the Azriel situation right now to anyone; even him. “No, I just…forgot. Uh…I’ll clean myself up.”

“Good idea. You have a little…” He reached out a strong, broad hand, the pad of his thumb brushing just beneath your eye. “There. Some sort of powder.”

With a somewhat nervous laugh bubbling up your throat, you brushed past him, his touch still tingling on your face. 

You didn’t see the point in fixing your appearance beyond the basics of dusting yourself down and throwing your hair up that had begun to curl in the humidity of the room. You discarded your apron, shucking your jacket on, and turned to Lucien expectantly.

You snorted as you found him sniffing at the various different pots of salves and tonics, a frown pinching his face. You pointedly cleared your throat. 

“If you’re done shoving that pregnancy prevention tonic up your nose,” You gestured to yourself. “Do I look presentable?”

One side of Lucien’s mouth kicked up into a delicious smirk. “Ravishing, Lady Healer.”

⧪

You prolonged the walk to the house as much as you possibly could, dragging your feet slowly and keeping Lucien lost in conversation. It reminded you how easy it had been to be around him before — how the gaping chasm inside you didn’t ache quite so badly as he regaled you with wicked stories that drew genuine laughter from you.

You were undoubtedly late, though — and that much was obvious when you could put off the inevitable no longer, and you entered Rhys and Feyre’s home. 

Everyone was already seated at the table when you and Lucien strolled through, mid-laughter. They each looked up with raised eyebrows, taking the sight of you in.

Azriel’s was the only gaze you didn’t meet, no matter how badly your eyes wanted to stray to him.

Your laughter died in the expectant silence, and you cleared your throat. “Apologies for the lateness. I got…held up. At the clinic.”

It didn’t occur to you, in the moment, how those two words — held up — may have been construed, given the appearance of the situation. That you and Lucien had wandered in later than everyone else, talking and laughing and flushed from your walk in the brisk air. You took your usual seat beside Mor, reaching for a glass. 

“Can we eat now?” She pouted. “I’m starved.”

“Yes.” Rhys replied, his eyes not moving from you. “We can.”

⧪

Rhys’s hard gaze wasn’t the only one trained on you throughout dinner. 

Elain sat directly opposite you, and you were surprised she actually managed to eat anything, with how intently she stared at you. Glared at you. If she was trying to make you uncomfortable, it was working.

“All I’m saying,” Cassian said from across the table, cutting into his dessert, “is that it’d be pretty cool to have a Night Court pet. A mascot, of sorts.”

Amren narrowed her eyes at him, draining her glass. “Where are you going with this, you stupid boy?”

“A cat. I think we should get a big, Night Court cat. A black one.”

The verbal sparring between Cassian and Amren, through all three courses of food, had been dinner entertainment in itself. Kept you distracted enough that Azriel was simply a shadow in your periphery, and nothing more. 

And Lucien had helped, of course — like he could sense that you needed easing. His reassuring glances from the chair on your other side, his quiet comments in your ear that had you laughing to yourself, had all been the comforting presence you’d needed.

“Perhaps we should get a cat.” Amren hummed. “It can replace you, Cassian. And probably provide us with more stimulating conversation, too.”

Lucien leaned down to your ear, his breath tickling your skin as he murmured, “He can join our band of rejects.”

The laugh that broke from your throat was so loud, so sudden, that everyone turned to look at you. Lucien pulled away, clearing his throat.

Shifting in your seat, you pushed your plate away from you. You’d barely touched a morsel of food all night.

“If we’re done eating.” Rhys said, his hard, violet eyes on you. “Perhaps we should move to the sitting room.”

Hums of agreement sounded around the table, and you didn’t hesitate to stand up from your chair. This was the perfect opportunity to make an excuse and retire early — to leave the heavy, pressing atmosphere that was making your chest uncomfortably tight.

You opened your mouth to announce you were leaving, but your brother turned to you, holding out an arm. 

“A walk around the garden, Y/N?” He asked. The fact that nobody else said a word was indication enough that there was intent behind the innocent suggestion.

Still, he was your brother — and you barely got to see him anymore, partly through your own doing. You smiled tightly and linked your arm through his.

“Save some whiskey for me.” Rhys called over his shoulder, leading you out.

⧪

The two of you strode in silence for a while. 

The night was peaceful, if not uncomfortably cold in your thin clothing. Content, playful snippets of conversation occasionally floated out of the house and reached your ears. The floral scents that drifted through the air were pleasant, soothing, reminding you of simpler times.

You would have felt blissful if you didn’t have warring emotions eating you up from the inside.

Rhys slowed to a stop beside a flowering shrub, his fingers toying with the petals of a soft purple flower. “Y/N.” He said quietly. “What’s going on?”

You stared at him, willing an expression of cluelessness onto your face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” His jaw ticked, “I mean with you and Lucien.”

Gods, you were already tired of this conversation. You felt yourself bristle as you folded your arms.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Y/N.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “What look would that be?”

“Like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” His tone was sharp, biting — verging on angry. “Everyone was aware of you leaving your party with him. I overlooked it because I knew you were overwhelmed. But afterwards, I found out you had…history with him. And then tonight, the two of you turn up late together after doing the Mother knows what—“

“I’d thank you,” You interrupted with a snap, “to watch what you’re insinuating, brother.”

“You were sat directly opposite his mate, Y/N, while he was whispering in your ear.”

“Elain doesn’t even acknowledge him!”

Rhys whipped round to face you so fast, he tore the flower from the shrub. It floated from his fingers to the ground. “Your opinion on their bond is completely irrelevant. He is a mated male, to a female in our family, our court. You will not interfere with that.”

You clenched your jaw. “Since when do you involve yourself in other people’s relationships?”

Your brother stared at you, his lips slightly parted. Slowly, he shook his head. “You truly have no idea, do you?”

“About what?”

“About what I have to deal with!” His voice was almost a shout. “This isn’t about involving myself in relationships. This is about my duties as a High Lord. Our relations with many of the other courts are already stretched at best. If they sense conflict from within our court, our family, it will be used against us.”

“Conflict?” You repeated. “For fuck’s sake, Rhys, Lucien is my friend. If Elain has a problem with that—“

Your words were stopped short as Rhys marched over to you. He cut an intimidating figure, towering over you and gripping both your shoulders in his firm hands. 

“Do you know what they say about you in the other courts?” He shook you. “Do you? They talk about the Night Court High Lord’s flighty younger sister who cannot settle in any one place. Who moves from court to court, taking lovers and doing as she pleases. Who was fucking and drinking to her heart’s content while the whole world went to shit.”

“I,” You snapped, shoving him off, “was healing mortals and helping rebuild villages and lives that our kind were destroying. And I wanted to come home, to find some way to help — you told me to stay away!”

“Yes, because I couldn’t let Amarantha get to you! I knew she’d use you to get to me and I couldn’t let that happen!”

“So you can’t hold it against me, Rhys—“

“I’m not holding anything against you.” His tone was low, dangerous, his face moulded into one fitting for the Court of Nightmares. “But I have duties. Important ones that cannot be compromised. Stay away from Lucien.”

You stared defiantly up at him, your arms crossed over your chest. “Are you saying that as my brother? Or as my High Lord?”

“I’m saying it as a gentle warning as your brother. But if I have to pull rank to keep things on the straight and narrow, I will.”

“Gentle.” You scoffed. 

That single action of yours seemed to incense Rhys beyond anything else.

“Do you even realise what hell we went through? The things we had to endure? I barely survived!” He spat, his wings flaring behind him. “But those dark days are behind us, Y/N. We’re trying to rebuild, to regain strength. And I can’t have you making poor decisions and breaking us apart from within. I cannot have you bringing shame down on our court!”

He may as well have slapped you.

You felt your breath hitch in your throat. Felt your clenched fists uncurl themselves. Felt the cold slither of hurt snake its way through you until it was chilling your bones and turning your blood to ice. You’d fallen deadly still.

Rhys knew immediately what he’d said. The realisation seemed to drain his anger from him instantaneously. His eyes shuttered, his jaw loosening. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Shame?” Hot tears pricked at your eyes; you blinked them away. “Is that how you feel about me, Rhys? Ashamed?”

“No, look, that’s not what I meant—“ He was scrambling for words as he reached for you, his face, his eyes, infinitely softer — the expression you recognised as your brother. “I just—“

But you were stepping away from him, shaking your head. Wiping your eyes. You didn’t want to hear another word he had to say. 

“Y/N—“

“Wow.” You laughed bitterly, shooting your brother one last, scathing glance. “Congratulations, High Lord. You truly sound like our father.”

Vicious, vicious words that you knew would hurt more than anything, but you were beyond caring. You turned, running back up the steps to the house and sweeping through on a wind built of your own anger, your own hurt. You didn’t know whether you wanted to scream or cry. Maybe both. 

As you passed the rest of the Inner Circle gathered in the main sitting room, you didn’t spare a single one of them a glance. Even though they could see the tears spilling over and rolling down your cheeks. Even though you looked seconds from breaking completely.

You held your head high, and you left. 

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

Tags: @safetypinxtales @historygeekqueen @smartiepants217 @mulansaucey @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @issybee0611 @goldentournesol @percyjacksonspeen @high-bi-andreadytocry @esposadomd @positivewitch @bsenpai @cityofidek @shannonsaid @topaz125 @azzydaddy @nobody00sthings @sfhsgrad-blog @elizarikaallen @hanasakr @ruleroftides @mis-lil-red @reiincarnatiion @moonfawnx @new-adventures-every-day @davinaclaire16 @i-am-fascinated @lucyysthings @margssstuff @magneticforceofaswifty @xxoverthinkerxx @marigold-morelli @owllover123 @vera0124 @thewarriormoon @the-book-gnome @favoritecrime1 @pricklepearbloom @icantthinkofanythingplease @ilovespideyyy @theravenphoenix26 @kitty-kait @hwas-housewife @localhopedealerr @magical-mischief-makers @holywolfsstuff

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger x reader #acotar fanfic #rhysand #mating bond #a court of thorns and roses #cassian #feyre #amren #morrigan #nesta #elain #azriel fluff #acotar fandom #acotar series #shadowsinger #spymaster #fluff #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #sarah j maas #acotar headcanon #acotar smut #acotar writing #acotar fluff #acotar x reader

[jadewritesficshere]

Eddie cooks and Steve doesn't is a rule in their house.

Eddie is an amazing cook. He sucks at baking because he always stops following the recipes, but cooking??? Eddie could be a chef with how delicious the food is. Eddie learned how to cook out of necessity, and quickly found he actually enjoyed it. Eddie just gets distracted and lazy, tending to go for the quicker options that are still tasty. Put everything in a crockpot and push a button? Sign him up! Throw everything in a stew and stir it? Hell yeah! if he imagines he's making potions for a group of travelers well who really needs to know.

Steve, on the other hand, can't cook. He burns every thing he has ever made. He never really learned how, as when he had to take home ec in school he spent most of his time talking to Tommy and Carol. His dad had told him cooking was "a woman's job"- Steve wishes he could go back to his younger self and punch him for ever listening to his dad's misogynistic bullshit (hell, he would even punch his dad). Steve stuck to sandwiches and cheap frozen dinners, but most nights he bought fast food. It was easy and he always had money for it. He always made up for it by being active in sports (and he wasn't a total fiend he knew enough about health, some days he ordered a salad and grilled chicken sandwich instead of a burger and fries. He always drank diet soda, claiming it was healthier).

Steve never realized Eddie could cook. Steve had lamented over how he's a terrible cook, to which Eddie replied "oh me too". So, Steve had decided to try and cook Eddie a meal for their date one night. Of course day of, he may have set the oven wrong. And he maybe didn't know to cut the potatoes for mashed potatoes and just stuck them whole in a pot with milk. Eddie had come over early and they were kissing when a beeping noise was heard. The smoke detector going off is what alerted them to something being amiss. Eddie had taken one look at the burnt chicken and the smoke rising from the oven and immediately decided Steve was never cooking again. His eye twitched as he had lifted the lid on the pot, seeing a whole ass potato sitting in milk that was sticking and burning to the bottom of the pot, and slowly lowered the lid. Steve had tried not to cry, unable to look Eddie in the eyes as they opened windows to let the smoke vent out. Eddie had kissed his forehead and went to the fridge to see what was available. Eddie ended up making cheesy scrambled eggs, pancakes, and ham. Steve was still upset, disappointed and mad at himself. He took one bite before freezing and then looking up at Eddie. "Does it not taste good?" Eddie had asked. "It tastes like...betrayal! You know I can't cook and don't even mention you're a fucking wizard in the kitchen?" Steve had mock glared at him. "Oh excuse me, well you shouldn't have betrayal," Eddie went to grab Steve's plate and narrowly missed the fork that Steve had tried to stab at his hand, "You can take this food from my cold dead body!" Eddie had went to say something but Steve hunched over it and said "My precious" before shoving food in his face like a gremlin. Eddie's heart had soared at the fact that Steve had made a reference to something he knew Eddie liked even though he never read the books. Steve's heart soared at the fact that they wouldn't have to live on fast food and thought thankgodsomeonecanactuallycookthisissogoodholyshit.

That was the date that cemented the rule that Eddie is the one who cooks.

#Eddie still claims he can't cook to which Steve glares at him and bitches at him #Steve is immensely glad he doesn't have to cook #Steve got a private chef for free #Eddie is also insanely glad but any time Steve tries to cook he takes one bite to at least say he tried #Sure he may spit it out but he tried it #He'll swallow other things #That joke is gonna get me canceled whoops #ANYWAYS enjoy the blurb or whatever the fuck this is #As always minors do not interact #Sure the fic is innocent but I am not #Respect the boundaries people #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson #Steddie drabble #Steddie blurb #The potato thing actually happened my friend did not think and did that I heard about it and went what the fuck #Jade is Talking

[hachimitsuotu]

While on the topic of "memes that Tales fandom has beaten to death"...

...referencing my take on the whole "Velvet and Yuri would get along cause they both kill lol"...

Edit: wow, this post seems to have hit a nerve with the Tales shitpost community.

Flynn being a bad cook is another pet peeve. I fully blame this on the Danzaisha story, where Flynn overdoes it on seasonings/toppings/whatever because of something Yuri said: "It gets boring if you just use the same old recipe. You have to spice it up yourself." Not a 1v1 translation from me, of course, but you get the gist.

Ironically, this line is actually said by Judith in one of the many Cooking Skits in Vesperia...

What Yuri does say, in a Cooking Skit, is that "you're supposed to taste the food as you cook it, but some people don't do that." With, you know, "some people" obviously referring to Flynn.

Flynn's not a bad cook. The problem is, and it's stated by the Wonder Chef himself, Flynn's tastebuds are stunted or smth so he has no sense of taste. That's why he puts so much spices or sugar into meals. It should also be noted that Flynn's cooking looks good! You just don't know if it tastes good until you take that first bite. That running gag is beat over the head any time Flynn enters the scene in-game - there's no excuse to miss it, honestly.

But posts where it's a cake blowing up or a shoe filled with milk (...huh?) and going "lol this is Flynn"...? Um, no, it's not. Not really. Flynn knows how to cook, and if he follows the recipe, it tastes as good as anyone else's. What Flynn doesn't know, is how to season. And that's not because he just sees funny ingredients and throws them into the pot like Chie and Yukiko from Persona 4. It's because, again, he has no sense of taste.

That's not to say the whole "Flynn's cooking is like Russian Rouelette" isn't not funny... sometimes... But imo, the joke is funnier when Flynn's not flanderized/twisted to shit by fandom to where it's not even Flynn anymore, but just some Guy with his name.

[fullmetalscullyy]

emma i would love to see u tackle royai and cooking for each other (or sharing in food). there's such a warmth and intimacy in making something for someone. it's whole purpose is to sustain life!!!

U R SO RIGHT. SO CORRECT.

so........ how about......... three wee royai moments where they're cooking together............. :)

here with me

read on ao3

summary: there was a reason // i collided into you // Roy and Riza cooking (providing for one another) throughout the years

rated: g | words: 2718 | tags: royai, cooking, young royai, post-canon, happy, childhood friends, sickfic, post promised day

Riza shuffled into the kitchen, following the smell of cooking, to find Roy standing over the hob, stirring something within a pot. And whatever it was, it smelled delicious. It was so flavoursome, it made her eyes water and caused her to break out into a coughing fit, announcing her presence.

And although it caused Roy to startle at the sudden, loud sound, he still grinned over at her.

He almost toppled off the chair onto the floor, in an endearing, hopeless, sort of way, but that was neither here nor there.

The reason he was currently kneeling on a chair though, was because he wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the hob to cook. Although in his teenage years, Roy’s growth spurt still hadn’t hit him yet (much to his dismay), so he’d taken a leaf out of Riza’s book and dragged a chair over from the table so he could see what he was doing. Bless his wee cotton socks too, because before Riza had interrupted and startled him, he’d looked so precious up there, his tongue peeking out from between his lips as his brow furrowed in concentration, eyes darting back and forth between the pot and the piece of handwritten paper beside it, which presumably detailed the recipe of whatever he was cooking.

Riza tightened the blanket around her shoulders and wrinkled her nose in response to the sneeze which was threatening her. “What are you doing?”

Roy beamed at her. “Cooking.” He answered as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Her brow furrowed. “What?”

He shrugged. “You’re ill. It was the least I could do. Plus, I wanted to.”

“You wanted to.” She blinked at him, unable to comprehend what was happening.

Roy nodded in cheerful agreement, nonplussed about her surprise.

“Is there anything you need me to do?”

“Nope.” Roy even popped the ‘p’.

“Well. Let me help at least –” Riza reached forward to busy herself with assisting him, but Roy was having none of it.

“Ah. Ah!” He swatted at her playfully, brandishing his wooden spoon to keep her back and out of reach. “No. Go and sit down.”

Riza frowned. “Roy, no –”

“Riza, yes. Go and sit down. I’ll cook.”

Sensing she would get nowhere with him and too exhausted and shivery to argue she ambled over to sit at the kitchen table, like he directed.

Riza felt bad though, that he was doing all of this for her while she was ill. He was here to learn alchemy. He was a guest in her home. His family were paying her father to tutor him. And now he’d been left to cook for himself – and her – too? It was too much. Her ailing body failing her was no excuse, and yet, he would have none of her continued attempts to try and help him. Her offers were met with playfulness and patience, but a firm reply which said no. He could manage on his own.

Riza still didn’t feel safe enough to venture far from him and his cooking shenanigans though. He’d once shared how he’d almost burned his aunt’s house down when he cooked and Riza was still unsure if it was a joke or not.

So she watched him like a hawk while he chattered away. Probably to fill the silence, which made her feel even worse, because her ill brain could barely keep up with his train of thought and she felt as though she should offer him something, not just silence. But it was too much for her exhausted body and mind to comprehend.

It was… nice, though. To listen to him. To hear his voice. To hear his stories which he obviously enjoyed telling and sharing.

Secretly, Riza loved it.

It was nice to be doted on for once.

To be cared for.

They both sat down at the table together without incident a short time later. Her bowl of soup was presented to her with a flourish, complete with pristine presentation. One would have thought the young man was a professional cook.

Taking a cautious sip of her soup, Riza politely and gently ignored how Roy was waiting and watching for her reaction as she sampled his dish.

It was… good. Great, actually. Extremely tasty. She tried not to be too surprised at how good it was given how much he’d put himself down about his cooking abilities in the past, but this was delightful. Perfect for her sore throat, and delicious. Not too much for her tender stomach to put away either. It was just enough.

He’d created the perfect dish for her.

Riza swallowed it down and relished in how it soothed her aching throat. And immediately went back for another taste.

“Is it okay?”

Riza glanced up, noticing how nervous he looked, even as she almost started to devour and hoover up his homemade soup.

Still, her face flushed pink. “Yes,” she replied, not quite able to fully find her voice with his attention so directly upon her. It was because of her cold, for sure.

No other reason.

“It’s good. Very tasty.”

Her appraisal lit up his entire face. Roy sat up a little taller in his chair. His shoulders rolled back and his head perked up, but it was nothing compared to the pure joy which brightened his entire being, illuminating him from within.

“Good. I’m glad.” He looked extremely pleased with himself as he tucked into his own dinner.

*             *             *            *             *            *             *

“Riza?” Roy’s disembodied voice called out to her from the doorway to her home.

“In the kitchen.”

Roy entered the room a few seconds later, surprisingly. Riza hadn’t expected him to come straight through to see her. Snow still caked the edges of his boots and the shoulders of his thick winter coat, but he didn’t appear to be too bothered about it. Neither was she, honestly. A little water from melted snow would dry up quick enough, so it wasn’t a problem.

And when he did make his immediate appearance within the room, Roy was ruffling his hair to dislodge the snowflakes which had caught in his dark strands. And like always, Riza’s attention was drawn to him immediately.

As soon as he entered the room.

(It was really becoming a problem.)

Riza had turned to greet him, but the sight of him made her pause.

His hair was tousled, slightly wet from being out in the snow and curling at the ends due to the damp. Since he’d joined the military, he’d started to fill out within his own body with all the physical training they had him doing. His arms, which had been long and gangly as a teen, were now corded with muscle, same with his legs. And now, when he moved to dislodge those pesky snowflakes, his newly discovered biceps flexed. Quite nicely, too.

Not that Riza had been staring, of course.

Definitely not.

Nope.

Riza’s face flamed and she hastily turned back to the stove. “Did you get everything you needed?” She was grateful her voice remained steady as she spoke because on the inside it felt as if her entire being was quivering like a leaf, as it often did around her childhood friend nowadays.

A pesky new discovery, but one she would manage. Through sheer willpower alone.

Riza vowed she would not make Roy uncomfortable with the things which churned within her gut and her chest over him.

“Yep. I got a discount on the vegetables as well. I think the lady in the shop likes me,” Roy chuckled.

Riza felt her stomach twist and the bubbling, happy feeling which had been fizzing within her died.

Crumbled into ash.

“Oh?”

Riza buried it. Buried it deep and locked it down tight. Jealousy had no place here and she was too old, too mature, now, to even consider such a thing.

“Yeah. She was very sweet and kind.”

Roy was a friend. An old friend, who she loved dearly.

Nothing more.

Never mind the fact he’d called Riza and been on the first train back when he learned how her father’s health had taken a downturn. Riza had presumed it was to ask her father about flame alchemy while he still had the chance, but in response to voicing her assumptions to him, Roy’s gaze has hardened. His jaw had locked and he hadn’t looked happy about something. He’d even gone as far to leave the room and once he’d returned, a few hours later, he’d looked dejected, but resigned.

Riza still hadn’t figured out why he’d acted and looked that way. And their friendship felt slightly different because of it.

But perhaps it was simply Riza’s imagination.

“What’s wrong?”

Riza startled and suddenly, he was there. At her elbow. Roy even lifted a hand to grasp her elbow gently, initiating contact with his thumb and forefinger which made her stomach flutter with troublesome butterflies, as it always did.

“What do you mean?”

His eyes searched her face, his brow furrowed and face concerned. Riza just averted her gaze, turning back to dinner before Roy could see too much. Before he could figure anything out she’d rather keep hidden for the sake of their friendship.

Her one-sided affections were hers, and hers to deal with alone. She would not burden him with them.

“Huh.”

Riza didn’t dare look at him, but his sudden response confused her. “What?”

“Nothing.” Roy sounded so nonchalant, such a twist from how he’d looked just a moment ago, which brought Riza’s attention back to him. But Roy had already turned away and was walking over to the kitchen table to unpack his shopping bags.

Riza dropped it. She didn’t want to dwell for too long on what he’d meant by that innocent “nothing”. That sudden realisation which laced his tone.

Her poor heart had endured and suffered enough recently, and she didn’t want to add anymore pressure to it. She owed herself that much currently, at the very least.

Roy appeared by her elbow again, making Riza’s heart jump and stutter. “Is there anything you need me to do?”

“Um…” Her brain was scrambled. Disjointed after trying to make sense of what had just happened between them.

But Roy waited patiently for her brain to stop short circuiting and catch back up with the present.

“Actually… Yes. Would you mind mashing the potatoes?”

Roy beamed at her. “I would love nothing more, Riza,” he replied rather dramatically, equipped with a wink.

Her stomach tumbled again, but Riza forced her brain to reign it in. She reminded herself he was just being Roy. Playful and fun.

The complete opposite of her.

But… Riza was slowly learning. Thanks to him. Thanks to his influence.

She was grateful for that, at least.

Roy rolled up his sleeves, exposing his now toned forearms, and Riza quickly darted her gaze away, unable to linger on the sight for too long. She studied the stew within the pot before her as if her life depended upon it instead, ignoring the young man working methodically (muscles flexing and all) and humming quietly – while so at ease – by her side.

Side by side, they cooked. For each other. For themselves.

A small smile teased Riza’s lips at the domesticity of it all. It tugged at her heart strings. It brought her a sliver of dangerous hope. A childish vision of the future. It made her insides bunch up at the thought of him doing it with someone else… That lady in the shop perhaps, whoever she was…

Despite it all, Riza had never been happier in that moment.

Right now, he was here with her.

No one else.

That may be the case in the future – and that was okay. Riza could make peace with that, for his sake and his happiness. Her little, budding – but difficult – feelings for her friend would never be voiced or known.

And that was okay.

They’d disappear eventually, Riza was sure. If he found someone, it would be all right. Because in the end, Riza would still have him as a friend. She’d still have him in her life.

And that was enough.

She wasn’t brave enough to lose him.

(Just yet).

It would be too much for him to give up everything for her. Far too much. He had his goals and his dreams, and she was a quiet, lonesome man’s daughter. She had nothing at all to offer, but she could still be his friend. Throughout it all, without fail, she’d offer all the support she had for him to see everything he desired come to fruition.

Yeah…

That would be enough…

Riza supposed.

“Riza?”

“Hm?”

“For the record, the lady in the shop was in her seventies. Nothing to get jealous over.”

Riza whipped around and smacked him on the arm with carrot while he guffawed away to himself.

*             *             *            *             *            *             *

Riza knocked on the Colonel’s door. Hayate whined quietly by her side and sat in place patiently as he waited for his second favourite human to make an appearance.

It was adorable how he’d taken to him.

(Riza understood the feeling.)

“Lieutenant!” Roy’s smile was like a beacon in the dark. It transformed his entire face, and he perked up instantly as soon as he set eyes on her.

Again, Riza understood the feeling.

Intimately.

“Good evening, Colonel.”

He opened the door further and stepped aside, inviting them inside his home. “Come on in.”

Hayate was eager and was already tugging on the lead as he hurried towards the Colonel to jump around his shins.

He was a good dog. He never really bothered or pestered anyone – except her and Roy. As soon as he was around either of them, he begged for attention, eager for pets, and always wanted to be the centre of attention. Every time. He loved them both unconditionally and equally, it seemed.

Riza adored him for it.

Roy chuckled and crouched to pay attention to his adopted little dog while Riza walked inside and shed her coat. Ever the gentlemen, Roy raised from his crouch – much to Hayate’s vocal dismay – and offered to take her coat and hang it up.

“How are you today?”

Always asking after her. Always enquiring how she was doing.

“I’m fine, sir. And thank you for the invite. It was much appreciated, as always.” Riza turned to Hayate who was staring adoringly up at Roy. “Hayate missed you, so I’m sure he was grateful for the opportunity to visit.”

“Just Hayate?”

Riza narrowed her eyes at him, watching as his danced as a smile teased his lips.

“Yes,” she deadpanned.

Roy’s mouth parted in mock shock as he placed a hand upon his chest, over his heart, before breaking out into laughter.

He even stuck his tongue out at her.

Just like he did as a boy.

“Come in.” Roy gestured further into his home. “I know I promised a lovely, relaxing evening,” he winked, “but it seems I’m still having some trouble.”

Riza’s concern for him instantly flared as he lifted his hands, wiggling his fingers and inadvertently brandishing his scarred palms from the Promise Day.

“I could use a hand in the kitchen, if you wouldn’t mind, Lieutenant,” he smiled sheepishly. “I tried already… with disastrous results.”

Riza opened her mouth to reply, only to be halted by a different smile, one which spread across Roy’s face and softened his features entirely. “I thought we could cook together. Just like old times.”

His sweet, boyish smile transported her back through the years, to all the times they’d done this before.

A million times before.

Some of the happiest moments of Riza’s life.

And Riza’s heart tugged at the nostalgia of it all. At how he’d remembered she’d once quietly admitted it was one of her favourite memories of her childhood with him – when they’d worked and cooked together. Provided for themselves and one another. At its basest, given each other the gift of care and sustenance.

And he’d remembered.

Riza rolled up the sleeves of her cardigan. The Colonel’s eyes sparkled with delight at her acceptance.

“Is there anything you need me to do?”

Their age-old question to one another.

Something that was just theirs.

“Why yes, Riza, I do believe there is.”

read on ao3

comments and kudos are always much appreciated!! 🥰🥰

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #young royai #three wee moments as a thanks for the prompt <33333 #tysm MWAH it was the BEST prompt ILY #u brought me back to royai after my spur of the moment desire to write for them hehehe ur power <3 #emma writes #ask #tsaritsa

[vidavalor]

Ever since you mentioned Crowley cooking while listening to "Evil Woman" and jiving his hips, this song and this image have been stuck in my head. I have tow follow-up questions: 1. What is he cooking and 2. is Aziraphale going to be the main course or dessert ;-)

Hi @procrastiel! How are ya, babe? Sorry the song is an earworm of the best kind lol. Aziraphale is actually putting Crowley on the menu at this point. Crowley has tried to kick him out of the kitchen once already ("go do your book things") but Aziraphale is now pretending that he's concerned that Crowley's had too much wine to be cooking as an excuse to watch ("three glasses, angel, that's a glass of water for me"). Crowley knows and keeps slapping his hand away from ingredients he's prepping while also handing him stuff to taste. There is a serious possibility, though, that Crowley might not finish the dish if Aziraphale keeps sampling and making the little sounds in front of him so he's tossed a little bunch of grapes and some manchego on a plate and sent Aziraphale to his desk with it until dinner is ready.

Crowley is making Ina Garten's Fresh Crab and Pea Saffron Risotto. Naturally, this is slightly doctored to his and his angel's tastes. Aziraphale is the amateur baker because the preciseness gives him comfort but Crowley is the cook because you can experiment and just add more stuff to the pot without the whole thing exploding. Usually. There was that one time he set the kitchen on fire that caused them to use four of the fire extinguishers, Crowley to have a panic attack, and for the Chinese takeaway people to make a small fortune that night. Other than that, starting cooking more again has been a success.

That mainly means that this dish is a little herbier and a little boozier than the recipe but is otherwise the same. Crowley watches Barefoot Contessa when he can't sleep (this is what he tells himself and Aziraphale but, really, he just watches it lol) because as much as he always bitches about Aziraphale needing a soft show (which Aziraphale insists are called "cozy shows") to balance out anything more intense, Crowley does, too. He loves this rich American woman who appears to do nothing but live in this nice gaff with a massive kitchen garden and make up new dishes for her husband to try. She's living Crowley's dream over here. He is currently on Season 17.

Crowley managed to get Aziraphale to pivot to his secret cooking show by a) admitting that he secretly watches a cooking show and b) by hinting that more frequent cooking might be the results if they watched said cooking show. It's been a long pandemic, yeah? and he could not watch the new All Creatures Great & Small for a fourth time, no matter how much Aziraphale insisted it would be fun. (And even if Crowley very reluctantly confessed, while completely smashed one night, that he was, in fact, crying during that episode in which Tricki Woo was in danger. And, also, that Siegfried can get it.) In truth, he'd watch anything on the television they magic in and out of the living room because it's all just an excuse to cuddle on the couch with Aziraphale but he's not about to admit to that. Or remotely use the word 'cuddling' or anything like it, of course.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale

[nighttimescribbles2]

years and years

There's a reason you're the only girl Zeke's ever brought home to meet his grandparents. And there's a reason he chose to do it now. zeke x reader; modern au; fluff; soft stuff wc: 1479 a/n: inspired by @ushiwhacka 's pasta recipe. thank you for sharing it, sis ❤️ i am so so so down bad for zeke these days. i don't know why but i kind of don't want to stop

“Why,” he said, “are we making dinner at four in the afternoon?”

The slide of his blade thudded gently upon the thick wooden chopping board. Tucked up in its little shelf, his grandparents’ ancient radio endearingly spluttered Liebestraum from a classical music station.

You nudged him with your hip. Tomatoes on the vine bobbed in the water swelling up to your wrists.

“Because you’re slow at slicing things and we would like for food to be on the table when your grandparents return from their date.”

Zeke made a face like a little boy seeing his parents kiss. His glasses slid down his face. He went to push them up and was immediately met with the fiery waft of the onions he was slowly, carefully dicing. His eyes watered.

“Ah, shit.”

You giggled and carried on swirling your ruby reds in the cold water.

It had been a handful of days since you arrived at Liberio, “that tiny sneeze of an excuse for a town”, as Zeke liked to call it, whose only redeeming quality were his resident grandparents. After years and years of absence, your boyfriend had suddenly decided to return for the occasion of his grandparents’ wedding anniversary. You were only too happy to help him plan - and execute - an intimate dinner for his nearest and dearest.

“They’re crazy over you, you know,” he suddenly said.

Water hissed in a stream that broke into foam over your tomatoes. They shone in the colander you’d tumbled them into. 

“Who?” you hummed, tilting your head in Zeke’s direction. He had just finished dicing exactly one half of his onion.

“Grandpa and grandma.”

You ducked your head and beamed, shy and pleased. “I think they’re lovely, too. I can immediately see that you take after them in grace and kindness.”

He snorted.

“Your grandma couldn’t believe her sweet boy had grown up into big, bad Zeke who made a subordinate cry last week.”

“He was a dumbass.”

You tsk’ed. “Careful what you say. You want to maintain your pristine image.”

“I will throw this piece of onion at you.” He grinned along with you as he watched you flit in the yellow kitchen of his childhood. Before you, he never imagined that he would one day be standing in there with a woman - his woman - doing something as domestically mundane as taking stock of the fresh ingredients scattered all over the same counter that saw things such as spilt cereal and homemade slime and drips of frosting from the cake Grandma made for each one of his birthdays.

Before you, his greatest dream was to leave Liberio. That the life he thereafter made for himself was rote and bleak was of little concern. But now that there was you, Zeke surprised himself by finding pleasure in walking with you along the long, winding canals of his hometown. Suddenly, the ancient pubs lined along its shore were interesting again, and the little weekend market was a chance to show you off to the people he’d known all his life and once wished to forget. 

He finished slicing the last bit of onion. You were setting a pot of salted water to boil.

“There,” he groaned with relief and wiped his eyes on the sleeves of his t-shirt. “How’d I do?”

“Wonderful.”

“You didn’t even look at it.”

“The fact that you managed to dice that onion at all is wonderful in itself, love.”

“You underestimate me.”

“You don’t prove yourself to me enough.”

“Yeah?” he challenged in a voice that made you turn to him with wide eyes. Zeke loomed over you, a playful grimace on his face and his arms upraised with tickle fingers at the ready. 

You squeaked a rapid surrender on the “I’m cooking!” excuse.

“Coward,” he laughed, and settled for crowding behind you and resting his chin on your head instead. You patted the arm loosely curled around your waist.

“No wonder your Grandma can’t believe you could ever be big bad Zeke.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that you’ve been nothing but a cuddly bear these past few days.”

He harrumphed. “Wait till this cuddly bear blows out your back.”

“On your childhood bed?” you gasped with exaggerated scandal.

Zeke couldn’t help the smile tugging up his mouth. The sizzle and fragrance of melting butter followed by the sweet sharpness of the onions he’d slaved over, rose all around you. He breathed it in and tightened his hold on you.

“Right on my childhood bed with its blue race car covers.”

You stifled a laugh. Swatted him lightly with the end of your wooden spoon. “Shame on you. What would little Zeke say?”

“Bugger’d wish he were all grown up.”

“Oh, my lord. Don’t let your grandparents hear that.”

His laughter turned into a loud guffaw and for a while, he was content to hold you as you cooked, watching with a happy-glazed stare as garlic and herbs and tomatoes and wine simmered into a rich sauce. The radio station had moved on to croaking out an Elgar whose title he simply could not recall. You were swaying in his arms, humming along as you bit into a  strand of spaghetti and passed him the rest to taste. 

It was perfection.

He kissed your fingertips when they touched his lips and cradled your hand so he could suck clean the bit of mascarpone-flecked sauce that had strayed from your tasting spoon to the inside of your wrist. Your head lolled on his shoulder. When you next spoke, your voice was dreamy.

“How come you never brought any girls home before?”

Ah, the secrets grandmothers told.

“Didn’t feel right.” The soft skin on the underside of your forearms smelled of the rich sauce, of home. He peppered it with kisses, planting a long one right over your pulse.

“And me? Why’d you bring me home to meet your grandparents?”

Because he couldn’t get enough of you. Because you were perfect. Because from the moment he met you and every day thereafter, you had never ceased being perfect to him, and that alone made him throb with a wonderful ache he’d never felt before but wanted to capture forever.

“I thought it would be a nice wedding anniversary gift to them.”

You wrinkled your nose. It was one of his most favourite sights.

“Some people would call that an unromantic answer, you know.”

“I know.”

“Some people would smack you for that.”

“But you won’t.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I do.” He couldn’t resist you. Never for long, anyway. His lips found your temple. Beard and mouth grazed your cheek, the shell of your ear, and pressed into the side of your neck.

You sighed; melted into him. Turned off the stove and hugged the arms embracing you. “How long have your grandparents been married again?”

He was preoccupied with kissing his way over your shoulder. “Years and years and years.”

“I wonder what it’s like.”

“Hm?”

You leaned your head against his. In his childhood home, you felt as if you’d finally seen every last one of the many facets of Zeke. He’d allowed you to look into this secret side of him, and you’d adored what you’d seen. You’d adored him more than you ever thought you could.

“I wonder what it’s like to love somebody that long,” you murmured, and turned to him. 

He looked back at you. His glasses were smudged, but behind them, his eyes were bright and attentive. You leaned in. Touched your forehead to his. Your noses, your lips, were whispers apart. His words were a soft caress,

“Do you want to find out?”

You dipped towards him, smiled against his tense mouth. “Yeah,” you breathed. “I do.”

He stammered a laugh. Squeezed his eyes shut, crushed you to himself and claimed from you a real, deep kiss.

For days now, he’d carried in his pocket his grandmother’s heirloom ring. And for days now, it, and the remembrance of his grandparents’ excitement when they gave it to him, had been weighing in his mind and sending swarms of butterflies in his stomach and generally driving him to distraction.

For days now, he had been promising himself to do it soon. To ask you soon.

He repeated that promise to himself now as you twirled around and wound your arms around his neck and gave the whole of your soft, warm self to him.

Tonight, he swore. After dinner and after you’d all celebrated his grandparents’ sixtieth wedding anniversary, perhaps while the two of you were cuddled in his childhood bed, in the cosy privacy of his old bedroom, he would relieve himself of the weight of that ring and ask the question he’d thus far been too afraid to ask.

And maybe, just maybe, you would agree to be with him. For years and years and years.

a/n: I was so surprised to find out that Liebestraum is semi tragic??? the Elgar piece referred to is the famous Salut d'Amour yellow kitchen is a wink to the same yellow kitchen in my earlier coffee shop au! zeke

#aot zeke #zeke yeager x reader #zeke yeager #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke jaeger #snk zeke

[babybearsnz]

hello, I hope your requests are open, otherwise it will be embarrassing. can you write a fic about felix and jisung (skz) where they are alone in the dorm with some super sneezy cold. and they have to look after each other despite their condition.

thank you for advance!!

Stupid nose

Sickies: Jisung and Felix

Caretakers: Jisung and Felix

Relationship: Platonic

Felix’s pov:

“Alright, sickos, we’re heading out.” Chan came over to the couch and gave Han and I each a kiss on the head while the other members made their way to the cars. “Can I get you two anything else before we go?”

I shook my head. Han just stretched his arms out, requesting a hug which Chan happily delivered.

“Take good care of each other,” he said. “Call if you need anything. Love you both!” He called from the doorway.

And then we were alone, bummed we couldn’t attend the day’s interviews. We had caught colds, and they were rough. Headcolds in which the only symptoms were terrible congestion and incredibly itchy noses. A headache pounded in my sinuses.

“Sungie, I’m getting up to take more meds.” Han was curled up in a blanket beside me, scrubbing at his nose. “Is there anything I should grab for you?”

“More tissues.” He sniffled and his mouth opened slightly. He always sneezed a lot when he was sick and I heard his breath hitch as I walked away. I frowned, expecting one of his small fits.

I was getting a glass of water to take the pills with when I heard him. “TCHhuu! TCHhuh! hadETCHhuu! TCHhuu!”

“Bless you!” I called.

He yelled back, thanking me, shortly before I returned to the living room.

“You okay?” I asked and handed him a box of tissues.

He nodded and blew his nose. “It’s just annoying that I sneeze this much.”

I sat back down and cuddled up next to him. “My nose is super itchy but not nearly as bad as yours, I guess.” I shrugged.

“I always get like this,” he rolled his eyes. “hehTCHhu! HESHhuu!”

“Oh, bless you.” I coughed and sighed.

Han sniffled again and held a knuckle up to his nose. “Thank you.” He stretched. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” I replied.

He stood from the couch. “I was thinking of making ramyeon. It might help your stuffiness.”

I thanked him and turned on the TV while Han went to make us lunch.

Jisung’s pov:

I put a pot on the stove and started on our food. The steam made my nose run and I had to stop a few times to blow my nose. I decided against a spicier recipe because I had already sneezed plenty.

“What do you want to watch?” Felix called from the couch.

“Pick whatever, I don’t mind.” I answered. “Big bowl or small?”

He didn’t answer and I looked up in confusion. “S—small’s fi—f—fine. huhRESHhuhh! Oh, excuse me.”

“God bless you, Lixie.” I started portioning the food.

“Thanks.” I heard the fridge open and turned to see Felix getting out ice tea. He poured me some as well and headed back toward the couch, stopping in his tracks in the hallway.

“Lix?” I followed him with the food.

“hahISHHuuh! Jeez, sorry.”

I laughed and the two of us sat for our meal.

I had to keep sniffling while I ate. My nose was running from the steam and I eventually switched to holding a tissue up to my nose.

Soon enough, the tickle in my nose grew. “TCHheh! TCHhuu! hehNGXTtch! hihNGXT!” I groaned, the sneezes giving me little time in between to breathe.

“Wow, bless you, hyung.” Felix patted my shoulder and I blew my nose again, sneezing tiredly twice more.

I thanked him with a nod and continued eating. “Is it good?”

Felix nodded and took another bite. “Mhm, you did well.” He reached over and ruffled my hair before turning to the side. “huETCHhuh! huESHH!”

I was mid bite. “M’bless you.”

He sniffled a few times. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“This is the worst,” I said and scrubbed harshly at my nose. “I have to sneeze so bad all the time.” My breath wavered and I let out an involuntary whimper.

Felix had finished eating and pulled me over to lean on him. He put an arm around me. “You’re feeling worse than me, huh?”

I shrugged. “It’s just my stupid nose.” My breath hitched. “I don’t know why when I’m sick I s—sneeze so mu—much.”

“Oh, Hannie.” Felix rubbed my arm and pulled me in tight.

I cupped my hands over my face. “hehTCHhuu! huhTCHH! hahTCHH! hehTCHH! hehTCHH! heh-heh—haah, haTCHhiew! heTCHhiee!”

Felix rested his head on mine. “Bless you, bless you. You must be exhausted after that.”

“Mm,” I groaned and shut my eyes. Lixie rubbed my back until I was able to fall asleep, itchy nose and all.

#kpop fanfic #idol sneeze #sneezefic #sneezeblr #ksnz #kpop snz #snzblr #stray kids #skz felix #skz han #felix lee #han jisung

[up-to-some-good]

I'm probably late already, but @impishtubist 's Sirius and Harry Saturday has given me inspiration for the first time in weeks, so I had to post this, even if it is late.

There were two weeks left in the summer and things were finally settling down. Harry had finally gotten used to Remus's presence, no longer stumbling over greeting his former professor; Sirius and Remus had sorted out their relationship after twelve years apart. Overall, the residents of Grimmauld Place had settled into a kind of peace as a new family, despite their gloomy surroundings.

Of course, it couldn't last.

The summer had been characterised by games between Harry and his godfather while Remus read, slow processing of years of trauma and separation, and small adventures into Muggle London, as well as inquiries about Harry's summer work from his new guardians which were always met with vague answers of "I'll do it next week" or "I guess I've started some of the reading". The homework had not been anyone's top priority, despite the adults' obvious concern, but Harry was running out of excuses a bit too quickly for his liking.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, for him, the real issue revealed itself that Saturday evening before dinner, with what should have been an innocuous question.

"Harry, could you tell me what the recipe says I need to do next?"

Sirius was standing at the stove, carefully and continously stirring the sauce. They were attempting to make lasagne from Hope Lupin's recipe in an attempt to cheer Remus up from a particularly rough full moon. Everything had been fine up until that point: Sirius giving instructions and obsessing over the fine details of the recipe, while Harry happily chopped vegetables and chatted about the upcoming school year.

"Harry?"

The fourteen year old looked up from his chopping board, barely registering his godfather's words.

"Can you read me the next step, kid?"

"I'll bring the recipe over to you," he offered quickly.

Sirius frowned as Harry practically sprinted across the kitchen to get the piece of parchment.

"That's alright, too," he said in confusion. "But I don't won't to spill anything on it, so I'd rather leave it on that side of the kitchen. Will you tell me what it says?"

"Well... um... I don't know what step we're on," Harry stuttered. "So, I'll take over the stirring and you can come read it."

"Haz, you've been here the whole time. Surely, you can figure out where we are?"

"Well, I could... um..."

Sirius slowly turned to his godson, removing the pot from the heat before stepping across the kitchen to halt Harry's shaking hands. He carefully guided Harry to sit down at the kitchen table, dinner momentarily forgotten.

"Harry?"

He looked up from the parchment, meeting his godfather with red eyes.

"What's going on, kid?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He seemed to curl in on himself, fixing his glasses hurriedly and sniffling. After a long pause, he mumbled something to the floor.

"Can you say that a bit louder, Haz?"

"I can't see the words!" he finally burst out, before burying his head in his hands. "They're too blurry."

Sirius wrapped an arm over Harry's shoulder while he took a moment to think. In retrospect, he realised Harry had avoided reading as far as he possibly could, passing any books over to one of the adults and answering vaguely about his homework. He hadn't even read his letters around his guardians, choosing to take them into his room and closing the door behind him.

"How long has this been an issue?" he asked gently.

"Since last summer," Harry admitted, uncovering his face to lean on his godfather. "It was fine at school, because Hermione mostly reads everything for me and I could write as long as I squinted and moved close to the parchment, but it's different here because it's pretty dark, so I've just tried to avoid it."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"I didn't want to bother you. It doesn't really matter. I've been managing fine."

Sirius took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts and trying to maintain his composure.

"You will never be a bother to us, Harry," he said quietly. "You probably need to see an optometrist and get a new pair of glasses. We can make an appointment for this week and have you sorted before the end of summer."

Harry blushed and cuddled closer to Sirius.

"I just worried," he muttered. "Because I know how expensive and inconvenient it is. I had to get these glasses when I was six and started school, and Uncle Vernon complained for like two weeks before we could even get an appointment and then the glasses were so expensive, so he gave me one of his old pairs to use instead."

At that, Sirius had to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths, remembering his own childhood and his own parents refusing to get his eyes tested because it was inconvenient. He got his first pair of glasses when he was sixteen, after running away from home and landing safely at the Potters. He was amazed when he discovered the world wasn't blurry for everyone.

"Harry," he started carefully. "I hope you'll forgive me for saying your uncle is a terrible man, and a worse guardian."

Harry chuckled quietly at that.

"You should have your own glasses, with your prescription, and a check up every year to make sure they're still the right pair," he continued. "I'll make an appointment tomorrow, okay? We'll get you a new pair as soon as we can."

Harry nodded against Sirius's shirt and let out a sigh of relief.

"Can you promise me something, for future reference, kid?"

He felt another nod against his chest.

"Will you come to me or Moony if you have any problems, no matter how small they seem? I promise, we won't ever be mad. We just want to help you in any way we can."

"I promise," Harry mumbled. "Thank you."

"Any time, kid."

Sirius pressed a kiss to his messy hair and pulled him into a tighter hug.

"Any time."

#remus lupin #sirius black #harry potter #wolfstar #sirius and harry saturday #sirius black is a good godfather #you won't change my mind #wolfstar raising harry

[etherealbelphie]

A Long Day (Ft. Satan and GN!MC)

Warnings: Season 1 spoilers, implied almost-cannibalism, reader gets yelled at, reader cries, implied relationship, also reader is shorter than Satan.

Length: 1.5k words

Genre: Hurt, Comfort, little bit of fluff.

Summary: Satan had a long, frustrating day. That was still no excuse to snap at you.

A/N: Alright! First Satan fic! The only brother I haven't written for yet is Lucifer, and I've recently gotten a request for him, so that's happening at some point. Out of all the fics I've written, this one's probably been in the works the longest. It's been sitting in my drafts half-finished for months, so this week I buckled down and finished it. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the story, and as always, if I missed any warnings, please let me know!

-Ethereal (✿◡‿◡)

Story below, please don’t claim as your own!

Satan had had a terrible day.

He hadn't gotten to bed until late the night before because he was reading, so he was exhausted. He also woke up to a ruined book, since he fell asleep before he put it away.

Since he was so reluctant to get out of bed, he didn't have time to eat breakfast, so he was cranky the entire morning.

He didn't do as well as he hoped he would on one of his tests, and to make matters worse, he learned that Lucifer had done better than him.

To top it all off, he'd stayed late studying--maybe the teacher would let him retake it— and got caught in some bad weather on his way home, leaving him soaking wet.

By the time he dragged himself up the front steps, he just wanted to go to his room, get into some dry clothes and relax.

You were waiting by the front door for him. Maybe you’d like to join him?

"Hey Satan!" You greeted him brightly.

You stopped a moment to take him in. "I'm glad you're finally back- is it raining outside?" You asked.

"You think?" He responded, gesturing to himself. Usually, you would've caught his tone, but you were more chipper than usual today. As a result, his sour mood went undetected.

Well, if there was one thing he could always count on, it was you. Even if you didn't mean to, you always managed to make his bad days just a little better. You always seemed happy to see him, no matter what mood he was in.

"Anyways, as I was saying, I'm glad you're back. We're a little late with dinner duty, and Beel is starting to get a little antsy."

"Huh?"

"Beel? He's hungry," you said, though you figured that went without saying.

"We've got dinner duty?" He asked.

"Uh-huh! I already picked out the recipe, and I already checked for the ingredients."

He didn't want to do dinner duty. He wanted to go get changed, maybe take you, and go cuddle you while he read. He didn't want to cook some stupid food for his stupid brothers.

Unaware of how upset he was, you approach Satan and begin unbuttoning his jacket, then tugged it off. He doesn't move at all. It was dripping and making the carpet wet. It was heavy as hell, so you go to hang it on the hook.

"Do you...really need my help?" Satan asked. "Couldn't you handle this one on your own?"

"Hah, I wish!" The jacket was heavy, and you struggled to lift it up. "I've barely got a handle on how to use your stove, let alone cook for seven people and one Beel." Finally, you hoist it up to the hook.

"Come on, let's go get started."

He grit his teeth. He really didn’t want to do this, but you did have a point. Asking you to do this alone probably would’ve stressed you out, and he definitely didn't want you to ask anyone else.

He clenched and unclenched his fists, then reluctantly followed you into the kitchen. Maybe some of your good mood would rub off on him.

"Anyways, I thought we could make-" you flipped the book open to a dog-eared page. (That certainly didn’t help his mood either.) "This!" You pointed excitedly to the page. "I mean, not this exactly. Seeing this reminded me that I know a recipe for it. A different one. Someone I'm close to taught it to me." you explained.

The kitchen filled with the sound of metal clanging as you pulled out the pots and pans. "And it’s pretty good. It’s definitely one of my favorite meals. Plus it’s human food, which I know your brothers tend to like."

Well, you certainly were talkative today.

"And honestly, like, no offense, but I'm glad to get a break from Devildom food now and then. I mean, last time we went out to eat my food blinked at me. Which, I get is normal down here, but uh, yeah, not too common where I'm from."

You paused a moment, gathering your train of thought. "I mean, it's not as bad as the time I went to Lord Diavolo’s and I almost ate- well, you know what it was. Which, again, I know that sort of thing isn't too rare down here, but to say that it's seriously frowned upon where I live would be an understatement. Ugh, I hope I didn't offend anyone when I freaked out."

You'd stopped prepping entirely at this point, just leaning against the counter. If you were going to take up his time, the least you could do was actually make it worth it.

"It's just, the thought of eating- argh, nope, nope. Can't think about it. I'm pretty sure that was the biggest culture shock with being here, actually. That, and getting used to living amongst a bunch of aristocrats. I'm not really sure if that's a culture shock thing or just a status shock, though."

You turn around and started pulling spices out of the cabinet. "Probably both. And I can’t say I’d thought I’d meet royalty, especially not the prince of literal Hell. Or the Avatars of Sin. Or angels. And whatever Solomon is. He says he’s human, but honestly, I don’t know. Hey Satan, can you-?”

"For the love of Diavlo, do you EVER shut up?"

You very visibly flinched, then fell dead silent.

Apparently, the answer to his question was yes.

He knew he was reaching some sort of breaking point, but he didn’t realize it would sneak up on him like that. He truly hadn’t meant to yell at you.

You had frozen, your back turned to him.

Much quieter this time, he spoke your name.

This prompted you to reanimate, and you silently crossed the room and grabbed the salt from the counter beside him.

He didn’t say a word as you started pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

Then he heard it. A sniffle. Barely audible, but definitely a sniffle. Even worse, it was painfully obvious that you were trying to hide it. Great. Making you cry was all he needed to wrap up his awful day.  

Damn it. He didn’t ever want to be the reason you cried.

No, this wasn’t about him anymore.

This was about you.

“No, no, no,” he said quietly, coming up beside you. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, wiping your face with your sleeve.

“No, please, don’t apologize!” He exclaimed. “No, that was my fault, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay,” you said, closing the fridge and heading back to the counter.

“It’s not. I’m sorry. I’ve had a very long day, but—” he touched your shoulder, gently pulling you to face him. As he suspected, your eyes were filled with tears. “Of course, that’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t have— shouldn’t ever yell at you. Can I…?” He faltered. “Can I give you a hug?”

You nodded, and that was all the encouragement he needed to wrap you in his arms. He could feel you trembling slightly.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled again.

“It’s not your job to apologize to me,” he said. “You didn’t do anything.”

“No, I mean I’m sorry for overreacting,” you clarified.

He shook his head. “You aren’t overreacting.”

“I guess, but..” you sniffled. “I just feel kind of dumb. I know you’re not going to hurt me or anything. Yelling just startles me, and when I get startled, I cry.”

“People react to different things different ways. Crying is a fair reaction to getting yelled at.”

You nodded, falling silent for a moment.

Gradually, you stopped trembling.

Then suddenly, you pulled away from him, giggling.

“What is it?” He asked.

You gestured to your now-soaked clothes. Oh, right. He’d just been caught in the rain.

“Oh…uhm, sorry,” he said.

You shook your head with a small smile. “It’s fine.”

You glanced around the kitchen and sighed. “You know what? Screw it,” you said, walking out of the kitchen and flicking off the lights.

Satan followed, giving you a puzzled look. “What about dinner duty?”

“Levi owes me one for standing in line for four hours so he could get two signed copies of something or other. I’ll ask him to do it.” You pulled out your D.D.D, messaging the demon in question.

“Besides,” you added, not looking up from your screen “Cuddling with you by the fireplace in the library sounds pretty good right now.”

You sent the text, putting your phone back in your pocket with a little flourish.

“There, that takes care of that,” you said. “Now, why don’t you go get into some dry clothes? I’ll do the same, and we’ll meet in the library in ten. Sound good?” You asked.

He nodded. Of course it did.

“Alright. See you then.” You stood on your toes, giving Satan a peck on the cheek before heading to your room.

He watched a moment, then promptly hurried to his room.

He didn’t want to be late.

#obey me #obey me fanfiction #obey me fanfic #obey me mc #obey me satan #obey me mc x satan

[lazypanartist]

Happy Yule from me, here is a Christmas present to you, my friend! I hope the holidays are wonderful for you and you get plenty of time to rest and have fun this season. Normally I bake things for people during the season, but since I obvs cant for you, I've included a recipe I use when I'm low energy but want something nice.

(Note: I use a holiday in this called Candle Nights. Candle Nights is a winter celebratory holiday meant for everyone of all denominations.)

Enjoy the story, it's called "Make The Yuletide Gay".

- 📝 Nonnie

---

"-and normally I would totally bring just like, some chips or order us all pizzas, but this year Mikey wants to do something different, and like, wants us all to make something. Like, MAKE make it. Which I guess works for everyone else but like…"

"You hate cooking." You stated bluntly. "Probably because you hate how tedious it is sometimes and lack patience because you prefer instant gratification. Which is utterly fair, it takes a lot of effort and time to cook sometimes." 

You stirred your peppermint mocha with a homemade vanilla biscotti while Leonardo pointedly sipped his sugar cookie latte, not looking at you. The two of you sat in your small dining room, the coffees picked by you when he claimed to be having an emergency and needed your help.

You think he would make up every excuse in the world to come visit you, honestly, but you didn't need them. He was welcome any time. Even though he could just portal chop his way in, you always left the window unlocked for him.

"Okay, so, maybe. Yeah. Anyways, I was like, sure, y'know? But then Mikey I guess remembered that I have a shakey history with cooking and he was like 'Oh uh you're fine to just help clean or something.'," Leo crossed his arms while ranting. 

"-...Which like Ow but fair but then Fivehead had to go and say he didn't want food poisoning like when we held Candle Nights like 3 years ago from my cooking, which like??? It's been three years, get over it?" He rolled his eyes, fiddling with and idly braiding his mask tails like hair. "Still, I was like 'what no I am SO gonna make something shut up' and Don said it would be inedible and all this is to say please please PLEASE help me make something for the dinner I want to prove I can cook."

He was actively now on his knees begging you, hands grabbing your pant leg as he gave the biggest puppy dog eyes he could.

"But you objectively hate it." You pointed out calmly. "Come on, don't dirty your knees like that, get up.

Leonardo whined and stuffed a biscotti in his mouth, flopping backwards against your armchair while throwing his hands in the air. "I KNOW!! I mean, I'm getting better, but fruit salad and scrambled eggs on toast won't cut it."

"I like your scrambled eggs. Especially now that you learned how seasoning works. You make them spicy without just drowning them in Louisiana hot sauce." You took a long sip of your coffee.

"I just..! I dunno. I gotta show them I can do this!! Besides, I kinda…really want to make something, y'know? Not just to make Dee 'Eateth Thy Words' but…I don't know…"

"It would be nice to have them appreciate something you made for them to enjoy?" Plucking up a cookie, you snacked while listening. 

"Yes!!" the terrapin snapped his fingers and pointed at you. "Nailed it!! Jupiter Jim's got nothing on your brains, babycakes!!"

That made you roll your eyes before you nibbled on the pastry in hand. "So, why come to me?"

The slider sat up more, giving you a look before motioning to your cookies that you had laid out for the talk. Thumbprint with homemade orange marmalade.

"I don't just call you babycakes because you have some nice buns."

"Fair, fair," you shrugged, "I suppose I could teach you, but…"

"But..?"

Your eyes trailed over to your kitchen, pondering. "What course are you doing?" You hope it wasn't the main dish. You don't have any whole chickens or, like, a pot roast. Or the time to get it, prepare and cook one.

"Wellll…Mikey wanted appetizers, Donatello is working on greens, Raph has sides, Pops has the main course, and April demanded to do her pumpkin carrot ginger soup. So I got left with dessert. Mikey was gonna do it too but I sorta…strong armed him to at least get that."

You thought quietly for a moment before getting up. "You listen to my instructions, and follow them well, okay? When are you holding it?"

"...in like three hours…"

You turned and narrowed your eyes. "Grab an apron and wash your hands with hot water up to your elbows. We're making a Cheater Cherry Chocolate Cake."

Your boyfriend saluted you before scurrying to do just that.

–

"Okay, so, what all do we need? Flour, cocoa…sugar…ugh, it's gonna suck measuring all this…"

You huffed and scooted the red eared slider out of your way and closed the cabinet he was staring into with disdain. "Yeah. Which is why we won't."

The terrapin watched you walk over to the pantry and open it, rooting in the storage before a few things were tossed his way, making him juggle the objects and set them on the counter before looking at what he caught.

"Wait…Box mix? No, Angelo will taste it-"

"Oh, no he won't," you grumbled, "no one ever really does, and they tend to prefer it, taste wise. Besides, that is the exact base used in the nicest bakeries of New York. They all do it, it's dumb to think it's inferior. It's a nice three dollar box mix compared to the 20-ish dollars worth of groceries you won't use regularly. And anyways," you shrugged, "this takes the tedium out of it all. I'm gonna teach you how to make a cake you won't feel is a hassle, then you can make it whenever."

The ninja's eyes widened a bit, staring at you full of wonder and warmth. "I love you."

"You don't get one back until you have this cake in the oven." You snapped your fingers twice and pointed to the box. "Go on, get the mix and pour it in the bowl. I'll grab what we need from the fridge. I'll instruct and get stuff but I'm not touching the cake so you can make it all by yourself for bragging rights."

Quickly he did as asked before looking at the back. "Follow along with the box, right? I need oil, water-"

"Mh? Oh no. Fuck that." You walked over with milk, butter and eggs. "Equal amounts of melted butter to oil. The sticks are pre-marked, so since that says a third cup of oil, do butter and pop it in the microwave for like, 10 second intervals until it's liquid gold."

Leo snorted and did as you said, pulling out the melted butter not long after and setting it aside, waiting for your instructions.

"Nice. Don't pour it in yet, it has to be done a certain way. Now, instead of a cup of water we use milk, and then whatever number of eggs are said on the box, we add one more. Set 'em aside and put the cold stuffs back. I'll grab our secret ingredient."

You meandered over to a cupboard over your coffee maker and began to rifle through.

"What is it? Tomato soup or something?"

"Eh, no. Not for this. You can, but sometimes the soups are seasoned so you gotta watch out for it and it's easier to use pureed tomatoes or just straight up juice. In any matter, no. It'll add more steps and then it's something you might not have anyway. Besides, there's a whole curdling issue and we don't want to mess with it and it's barely a secret if it's everywhere on TikTok. But!-" you leaned back, "I have an easier one for you."

The turtle watched as you grabbed two containers and walked over, setting one in front of him. "...Espresso powder?"

"Yup. One tablespoon and it kicks up the chocolate flavor like nuts. But, y'know, it's hella expensive and hard to get sometimes."

Your boyfriend winced and nodded.

"Wanna know what's infinitely cheaper, easier to get, and you have at the lair?"

"What?"

You set a small jar of instant coffee powder on top of the espresso. "It works just the same. One tablespoon, and it's basically just as good. Go ahead and toss that into the drys and mix."

After that, you greased the pan and checked to make sure the oven was preheated, "to whatever temp the box says," you instructed. Then you put the bowl in your stand mixer, watching as Leonardo first added the butter, waited a moment, then slowly poured the milk in thirds. Finally, he added each egg one at a time and let it run for twenty seconds before stopping.

"That's kinda…soupy."

"Yeah, you gotta trust the process. Mixing it more makes it more dense. Activates the glutens." You set two cans of cherry pie mix on the counter. "Now, dump those right in the pan. Mine is bigger, but it basically is just however much will cover the bottom of your baking pan. I just know that mine takes two."

After the filling coated the bottom and the cans scraped for excess goo, Leo poured in the mix and then threw it in the oven, setting the timer and looking to you for more instructions.

You shrugged. "Yeah that's it. If it were a tomato cake I'd start us on a frosting, but we don't need it with that because of the cherries. If you wanna make it pretty though, we can use powdered sugar on top once it's cooled. You can even make shapes with paper and make designs or patterns, but it's not necessary. Just let it bake until you can put a toothpick in and no batter sticks."

The ninja nodded and studied the oven for a moment, before his eyes widened.

"Holy shit. I just made a cake."

You snorted. "Yeah. Easy, right?"

"I. Geez. I don't feel annoyed or like my brain is melting."

"Good. That tells me it's not got so many steps that it drives you up a wall."

 

The mutant slowly smiled and cupped your cheeks, nuzzling your nose a bit in a cute way. "YOU… are the best date mate ever. Have I told you that?"

"No, but you can continue to do so while we dance to whatever that song is you've been looping this week and wait on this cake."

Your nose scrunched as he tugged you down into a quick kiss, muttering "It's Yellow Hearts by Ant Sanders" against your lips before pressing play on his phone and pulling you into a breezy, swirling dance.

–

"Thanks again baby."

You leaned against the counter, drying the mixing bowl and putting it up and away.

"Honestly it's no problem. I'll teach you how to make marmalade next time." You gave a small smile as Leo pecked you on the cheek goodbye, katanas already making a portal back to the lair. "Remember not to mess with it too much 'til dessert time. It should be cooled by then."

"Gotcha. You sure you…don't wanna come? I know April would be happy to see another human and Raph probably would like to talk to you about your little kaiju plushies."

You shook your head. "My grans are supposed to be back soon from their visit with my cousins soon. Should be like, in another hour. We'll probably get pasta somewhere knowing them. Now, go on, you still have to get all dressed up nice."

"Can I borrow one of your cool fancy looking shirts?"

"No. The last time you borrowed a shirt I got it back with a big rip down the side."

"Please? Pretty pretty please from the most incredible datemate ever??"

"...fine."

Leon fistpumped. "Awesome, I already stole one while you were doing the dishes. Alright, well, you're welcome whenever. Just say the word and your brave hero will come to your rescue~" 

You hummed at his preening. "Oh, thank you. My brave champion."

Your pet name made the terrapin flush and fiddle with his fingers a bit before giving a final, shy peck goodbye and leaving through the mystic gateway. You waved him off the whole time, and when he was gone, you sighed, a soft smile tugging at your lips. You began removing your apron, hanging it up before adjusting your poet blouse and heading to the living room to wait.

Your grandparents had gone on a vacation to visit your aunt and cousins in another country, and had been gone now for two weeks. You hadn't heard from them today, but, they were bad with tech and it wasn't surprising. Idly you yawned and turned on youtube, putting some toy refurbishment video on as background noise for the very quiet apartment.

One video became two, which became three, and then five. It was now very dark out, and you were still alone. Though, you WERE still texting Leon.

<Champ: Still nothing? Really?>

<Cutie Pie: Nothing. Dead quiet. Kinda freaking me out.>

<Cutie Pie: Candle Nights dinner going good?>

<Champ: NO. We're about to start. The dishes never got done because it basically got forgotten so it's been delayed and we're all getting a bit hangry.>

<Cutie Pie: Damn im sorry babes.>

Your phone began buzzing and you jolted, answering quickly. You were greeted by the voice of your grandfather, and after exhanging pleasantries, he got down to brass tacks.

"A…blizzard?"

Yes, apparently there were poor weather adviseries all over the place, and your grandma and grandpa were stuck for the next few days. Thankfully, they hadn't flown out yet so they could stay with your aunt, but…

"Yeah. No, I understand. I love you too, be safe."

You hung up with a sigh. Your phone buzzed and you glanced to see Leo had sent you a picture of the whole family. You smiled.

<Champ: Any news? You went silent for a while.>

You quietly began mulling over options before deciding to be honest and telling the mutant what happened.

<Champ: Oh shell.>

<Champ: Do you want me to come get you? Pops says you're always welcome and it's a lot of food. Raph made roasted garlic potatoes!>

<Champ: You shouldn't be alone on Candle Nights and I'd love to have you over.>

You smiled slightly.

<Cutie Pie: I'd like to, but I don't want to trouble you.>

<Champ: Oh please>

You heard the telltale Vworp of a portal opening nearby and looked up, shocked to see Leo leaning through it and waving you over. 

"It's no trouble, not when it's you. Now, come on. Don doesn't believe you didn't even touch the batter of the cake, Raph's getting you a drink and Mikey is putting together a plate for you. You GOTTA try the soup, I think this is April's best work yet."

Godd, I LOVE this! Domestic fluff always has me giggling, lmao. The recipe is great! And so is the tomato soup warning, lol.

Happy holidays to you as well, Nonnie! And to everyone else who reads this ^-^

#kana's chats #rise leo x reader #rise leo #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #📝 anon

[jimblejamblewritings]

changes hurt | part 8.

Summary: (Y/N) has always been one of the stronger Alphas. Which is saying something when the Avengers is a team overrun with Alphas. A mission gone wrong changes her entire world and when everyone starts treating her different, she doesn’t know if she can cope. Change hurts and (Y/N)’s not sure it’s a pain she cant bear.

Warnings for the Series: strong language, angst, fluff, assault, a/b/o dynamics, sexual content (not sure if there will be smut or just talks, leaning more to just talks but since I don’t know, let’s just say 18+ readers only)

Pairing: Steve x black!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

You had fallen asleep on Steve’s chest. He carefully moved you off of him and got up to get food, knowing you just wanted to stay in. It was a toss up between ordering takeout or cooking. Traditional values won out— it might not have been sex, but claiming was intimate and that called for some homecooked food as part of the tender aftercare.

The clatter of pots and pans was so loud that for a moment Steve was worried it would reach your floor and wake you up. While it didn’t wake you up, it did garner the attention of Bucky and Sam who were coming back from hanging out with each other. Steve heard them come in but was too focused to say a word. The other two men watched him with amused half smiles as they leaned against the counter.

“Steve making more than a grilled cheese and not burning down the kitchen? What has the world come to?” Bucky joked.

“I know this scene. No shirt, back muscles in full concentration, not bothered to tell us to shut up… Who’s the woman that put it down so good you got up to cook?” Sam piggybacked off of Bucky without missing a beat.

Both men laughed at their own comments while Steve rolled his eyes and took the rice off of the stove to drain it. The laughing stopped right away. They were staring at the two hickeys on his neck, already staring to darken. As if they didn’t want to know, Bucky and Sam took very shallow sniffs of the air. Your scent was there. And not just there on top of Steve’s scent, but mixed in with it— so subtle you wouldn’t know it was there until you sniffed for it. The telltale sign of a bond. Steve watched the water drain from the pot.

“Do you think it matters the rice is fresh? The recipe said it doesn’t fry as well,” Steve said as he started spreading the rice out to try and dry it.

“You know you could have done that in the rice cooker.”

“There’s a rice cooker?”

“(Y/N/N) keeps it on the top shelf, fourth cabinet. We also already have leftover rice.”

Steve gave Sam a questioning look and opened the fridge door. Sam’s eyes scanned the fridge until they found their target. He pointed to the large round grey-brown container. Steve held it up.

“This is butter.”

“Open it,” Sam said with a knowing look on his face.

Steve, even though he thought it was dumb, opened the container anyway. He blinked twice as if the rice would suddenly turn into butter. Looking back at the container, it was clearly labeled that it once held butter at some point. He took out the rice and placed it in the stir-fry pan before dumping the fresh rice into the butter container.

“We didn’t sleep together if that’s what you two are waiting for,” he said as he started the stove once again and poured some soy sauce over the rice.

That made Bucky and Sam surprised once again. Bonding before sex wasn’t the most common practice in modern times.

“So you’re really (Y/N)’s Alpha now?” Bucky asked.

The smile that took up the bottom half of Steve’s face was answer enough for them. He finished divvying out the rice, leaving the rest for his two friends. Grabbing water bottles and juice, Steve tucked the drinks under his arm and grabbed the bowls to head back to his room.

“If you two excuse me, I’ve got to go take care of my Omega.”

Bucky and Sam watched the man walk off with a pep in his step. Steve chuckled as he entered his room. You had turned onto your stomach— he could see your eyes were still closed— one hand blindly reaching around trying to find him. All your fingers were met with were empty sheets. You scrunched up the sheets before lifting your head, eyes still closed with a frown on your face. The clinking of bowls on the nightstand and the smell of stir-fry made you slowly open one eye. Both opened when you saw the food and Steve standing next to it.

“You cooked for me, Alpha?” you asked with a stretch and a groan.

Steve moved back on the bed and settled himself over you, using his arms to prop himself up. He pecked your lips once before going in for a deeper kiss. He could hear you call him by his presentation all day long. It was easy with Steve. Calling him by the presentation was like saying your own name, simple and rolling off the tongue with no problem. Getting off you, Steve let you sit up and handed you the fried rice.

He glanced up from his own bowl every now and then to look at you eating. Reaching out, Steve traced his thumb over your lower jaw. You looked up at him, batting eyelashes that made Steve want to pin you to the bed.

“I want to take you out tonight.”

“Steve, we don’t have to do anything special.”

“No, no I want to. In my day, that’s how we did it. Alphas always took an Omega on a date before we tried to claim them… we did it a little backwards but I still want to.”

“Okay. What do you want to do? We kind of ate already.”

You chuckled and Steve’s face tinged with red. He was doing everything in the wrong order. Even though it was just you, he was suddenly nervous— it was like meeting you for the first time all over again. He willed away the stray nerves and thought about how to take you out properly. Food was out of the question, so were arcades and laser tag— the Avengers got banned from most of them in the city on account of being too competitive. Movies were something the team did every night, not special enough.

“Meet me downstairs in ten minutes.”

“What are we doing? Steve?”

He wouldn’t answer. He simply got up and went to put on real clothes. You watched him for a moment. Steve was aware as he felt your eyes boring holes into his back. With a smirk, he flexed his muscles as he dug through the cabinets for a shirt. You pushed the comforter off of you and rushed to your room to change.

When you met Steve downstairs, he was leaning against his motorcycle with an extra helmet in his hand. He put it on, making sure it was secure. The motorcycle roared to life and was off without a hitch the minute Steve felt your arms wrapped around him. The drive was fast and quiet until you found yourself at the pier. Not many people were around. You took Steve’s hand in yours and the two of you began to walk around. As you turned down a path, you spotted a small sand volleyball pit— an abandoned ball right under the net.

“Want to play?”

You didn’t really give Steve a chance to say yes or no as you pulled him towards the net. Ever the gentleman, he let you serve first. Your laughs rang out as you and Steve dove for the ball, messed up serves, and tried to take out the other with way too aggressive spikes. He ducked quickly, incredulity all over his face, as he stared at the burnt ball behind him.

“I can’t believe you set it on fire!”

Your nose scrunched up in laughter. Steve ducked under the net and you started to run. You were no match for the supersoldier when he really tried. Effortlessly, Steve caught up to you and scooped you into his arms. You were spun around before being set down on the ground. Time stopped momentarily as the two of you looked at each other. You were both hyperaware of everything.

You could feel every tingle from where Steve’s fingers tapped against your waist. He could feel the weight of your hands locked around the back of his neck and the warmth of your breath as you breathed out to calm yourself. You were wondering if he could hear your heart pounding— he most definitely could. It wasn’t clear who bridged the gap first. But once you were on each other, it was a clash of lips and teeth. The only thing keeping you from tearing each other’s clothes off was the fact you were out in public. Steve gripped you tighter as you tried to pull his body closer despite the fact that you were flush against each other. When you pulled away to breathe, the air was silent but charged. Laughter broke the quiet along with a quick peck.

“Do you want to take this home?”

You couldn’t get to the motorcycle fast enough. The residential floor was surprisingly empty, not that you or Steve were complaining. Now, there was no one to ignore as you made your way to your floor with hushed giggles and heavy petting. He tried to open his room door as he had your body pressed against it, finally relenting in his touches to actually get it open.

Outer layers were shed quickly. You had seen Steve shirtless plenty of times, had even seen his boxers the few times he strolled into the kitchen without wearing any pants. But he had never seen you in underwear. Well, not lacy underwear— only the black sports bras and briefs when you had to shed your suit to get an injury fixed. He took his time and let his eyes roam your entire body. You got tired of him trying to savor the moment and practically launched yourself at him to bring his lips to yours.

The kiss became slower as you two got closer to the bed. Everything became slower. As Alphas, you and Steve had similar styles when it came to sex. With most people, it was fast and for relief. That wasn’t what either of you wanted, not in that moment. There would be plenty of times for that later. It was intimate, both of you determined to memorize every part of each other. You came down from your highs and stayed connected for a few minutes— Steve resting on top of you felt like a weighted blanket. He kissed the spot between your eyebrows before pulling out and rolling off of you. His hand brushed your fingers as you started to get up.

“You took care of me earlier, let me take care of you.”

He let you go get a towel from his bathroom. He went from a small side smile to a smirk as he watched you walk away with a little limp in your gait. The water for the tub started to run. Steve made himself useful and went to change the seats while you prepared the bath. After cleaning yourself up, you wiped down Steve and discarded the washcloth somewhere in the room. The water was filled a little too high, splashing over the sides when both of you settled in the tub.

“I want you to move in with me,” Steve said as he got out.

He grabbed the largest, fluffiest towel he owned— stolen from your linen closet— and wrapped you in it. Your faced was smothered in it as he dried you off. Steve laughed when your head popped up from under the fabric with your face scrunched up.

“What’s that face for?”

“I have the duplex suite.”

“Yeah, why is that?”

“Tony likes me better, Capsicle.”

Steve groaned at the name, barely tolerating when Tony called him that. You stuck your tongue out before your lips curled up into a devilish smile. You wrapped the towel tightly around you, tucking the ends in so it would stay up.

“I think we should have Fury change your name to Capsicle. Let’s go ask him.”

Before Steve could process, you were out the door. He had to grab a towel, giving you a headstart. He heard your feet scramble down the stairs. The team heard the laughter before they saw you. Everyone’s heads turned to see your towel get pulled back by Steve and you returned to his arms. The sight was sweet to them, especially you looking truly happy for the first time since they had learned about the dynamic change.

“We could have our own little apartment since we can’t just leave the tower if we take the duplex,” you whispered.  

“Doll. As long as you’re in my bed I don’t really care which room we’re in.”

Before you two could kiss again and put on a show for the team, the elevator dinged. No one would dare come up to the residential suites so late except for two people— Nick and Sharon. And those were the exact two people that entered. The tick of Sharon’s jaw wasn’t missed as she spotted you and Steve behind the couches in just your towels but she didn’t say anything.

“Sorry to interrupt the relaxation,” Nick said as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“No you’re not,” Tony said which earned him an elbow to the rib by Nat.

“Anyway, you all have a mission. It’s going to take all night to get there. You guys leave now. Hill is loading the quinjet with coordinates, meet her in five at the helipad. And if (Y/L/N) and Captain Rogers want to find some clothes, that would be be appreciated.”

He turned and exited without another word. Sharon dropped the files on the table and waited on the couch while the team left to go change.

(Part 9)...

#alpha!steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #avengers fic #marvel fic

[rintsuten]

A little skit about Remus and Teddy's mornings in my au. I was writing and I thought it was a cute moment so I share it

.

.

.

.

The sound of awakening filled Remus' room.

.

/7:00 am/

.

He had a schedule that he followed, or at least tried to, every day. And his days started at 7:00, an hour before Teddy woke up.

He lazily got up from his old but comfortable bed heading for the shower, he couldn't really be considered a person until he had his daily shower and coffee.

.

/7:50 a.m./

.

He had taken extra time in the bathroom this day. His bones still ached from last night and once he collapsed in the bathtub it was impossible to get up until considerable time had passed.

When he was able to get up and finish the bath he quickly knew that he was running late and that today was not going to be a good day.

He walked slowly shuffling his feet all the way to the coffee pot until he realized the kitchen wasn't tidy, he remembered that before he had to drop Teddy off at the Weasleys the boy had craved some chip cookies of chocolate. Cookies that he had bought her the day before but on a whim before the full moon he had devoured by himself.

He also remembered Teddy's disappointed face when he didn't find his cookies, and how guilty and bad father he felt about it.

They ended up making the homemade cookies that Hope made for her in her childhood days after the full moon as her method of making up for not being there. His mother was not to blame, Remus knew that since he was a child, but his 5-year-old self was not stupid so he ate them with his mother in the fireplace while they hugged every day after full moon.

He loved that recipe and so did Teddy.

What neither he nor Teddy loved so much was picking up the mess they made every time he took to cooking father and son together. Yesterday he had the excuse that he was late at Molly's so he didn't bother to pick her up.

He was now suffering the consequences of her actions.

"By Merlin Remus, you're a 26-year-old adult, show a little responsibility. You eat your son's cookies and to make it up to him you make a mess in the kitchen and move past him leaving the problem to Future Remus. Well guess what, you're Remus from the future and now this is probably yours, you have to…” As Remus mentally scolded himself, what he knew would happen happened. He had spent 5 years in a row and today would not be the day that would change.

Teddy woke up crying from a nightmare.

.

/8:00 am/

.

Like every morning since he was born, at exactly 8:00 Teddy woke up from a nightmare and cried until Remus came to his room and calmed him down.

Remus didn't know that he spent every night in his little girl's dreams, he couldn't get much information between Teddy's sobs.

When he stopped and calmed down he didn't want to talk and the slightest mention of his nightmare made him cry again.

He didn't talk in his sleep, he knew, as Remus had tried to stay in the boy's room all night in case he said anything that would give him any hint of what happened to him.

He couldn't afford a Muggle psychologist either, the librarian's salary wasn't enough to support him and his son, he definitely couldn't add extras.

At least this year he had gotten Teddy to sleep only in his room and not in Remus's bed, that was progress.

"Teddy darling don't cry daddy is here" At the voice of the eldest, the 5 year old boy stopped crying to look at him with teary eyes, these views broke Remus' heart every morning.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, little one, it's me, here I am, don't worry, it was just a bad dream" Remus extended his arms towards Teddy, who without hesitation rushed towards his father, he picked him up and stroked his little head.

After a few minutes of silence and hugs, Teddy stopped crying, returning to being the happy boy he was for the rest of the day.

"Yesterday I was very worried, I thought I would have to sleep over at Mrs. Weasley's house" Remus had been moving down the hall with Teddy in his arms and now while they were in the kitchen, Teddy sitting on the counter and Remus preparing breakfast more specifically, the little boy began to converse.

"I don't know what's wrong with Molly, she takes care of you every full moon and she has 7 children, I think she knows how to take care of unruly children. The little one is even your age, you can play with her"

"Ron wets the bed," Teddy mentioned. Remus spit out all the coffee that had just been made and started laughing, not expecting that comment. "Daddy you're supposed to clean the kitchen, not make it any more dirty. Mrs. Weasley gets mad when you make a mess of everything."

"I have? This, buddy" Remus pointed to the kitchen "It was our doing, in the plural. I don't know why I'm telling you this, you don't even know what plural is. The thing is, it's as much my fault as yours, no one is safe here to clean"

The doorbell suddenly rang.

"I'm sure it's Mrs. Weasley coming to punish you for being such a mess as an adult."

#remus lupin #teddy lupin #remus and teddy #fanfic #au #remus is the best parent in the world #and Teddy the cutest child #skit #remus headcanon

[skvaderarts]

Petrichor Chapter 30: Offer

Chapter 30: Offer

Note: Sorry for the 9 pm upload! I decided that today was the day I was just going to chill and take things slowly hehe! I hope you enjoy the chapter! I answered like 20 comments, but don’t feel like you have to respond to them all unless you want to! It took like a month for me to get to some of them, and it can be hard to remember what was being talked about lol! Enjoy!

(-~-)

Despite a total lack of groceries, dinner went much better than it had any right to. They had simply made a simple pasta dish, the two sharing small talk and information about virtually everything that had transpired since the last time they had seen one another. And there was much to talk about; both of them had been quite busy in the interim. Vivienne spoke of her exhausting hunt to locate a new dwelling and the even more annoying task of finding a moving company for a reasonable price, while Vergil regaled her on the harrowing tail of his seemingly endless search for a functional phone booth. Much to his horror, she had found that rather funny.

By the time that the two of them had finished cobbling together their amalgamation of pasta and seafood, they were quite pleased. It had turned out better than either of them had expected, especially since it was the first time that either one of them had made the recipe. Apparently, Vivienne was the sort to cut recipes out of magazines and had been looking for an excuse to try this one for a while. They were missing one or two ingredients, but it had still turned out to be quite good. Understandably, it was a bit difficult for any dish with shrimp, garlic, and butter in it to fall flat.

After their meal, Vivienne excused herself to go and take a shower, leaving Vergil to his own devices for a short while. With nothing better to do for the time being, he decided to go outside and get some fresh air. The back patio might be small and lacking in furniture, but it wouldn't be the first time he'd sat on the ground.

He took in the night air, the chili breeze that blew through the backyard carrying little flakes of snow with it. The icy grass was fully frozen, sharp to the touch. Vivienne had brought her new potted plants in earlier that day before they had started cooking, rightfully concerned that they would freeze outside in the cold. And as he sat there on the cold pavement looking up at the night sky, He heard a small voice behind him and a knock on the glass door. It was Vivienne, of course. He didn't need to even ask.

Glancing back at her, he realized that she was hoping he would open the door for her, the young red-haired woman's hands currently full. He stood up and obliged her before sitting back down, confident that she could close the door on her own. It was a sliding door, after all. Those were always easier to close than they were to open, especially when your hands were full.

“I thought you might be cold,” Vivienne said as she crossed the doorway, using her foot to push the sliding glass to the side a little further. In either of her hands was a coffee mug, both of which were smoking. She held one out to him, gesturing towards the cup with a head tilt. It seemed that she was offering him something to drink. “Do you mind if I join you, or would you prefer to be alone?”

He regarded her quietly at first, shrugging ever so slightly. He didn't mind her presence in the slightest. In fact he'd dare say that he enjoyed it and that he liked having her around. Her company was truly a rare thing, and something that he couldn't bring himself to forsake.

“This is your home. What would you prefer?” He asked, not wanting to overstay his welcome. He didn’t want to be thrown out and asked to never come back. If there was one thing that he knew for certain about himself it was that he was proficient at burning bridges, and this was one road that he wanted to travel again.

She took a few short steps forward, double-checking that her door was closed before shifting her shoulders to keep the blanket she had wrapped around them from falling onto the snowy ground. She wasn’t wearing a coat or jacket of any sort and was obviously cold. Having just taken a shower probably wasn’t helping.

“I’d prefer that my guest be comfortable and not place my preferences over their needs.” She said with a soft smile, a slight chuckle escaping her lips. He didn’t know what he expected her to say, but her kindness was seemingly endless, much like her capacity for consideration. “Whatever makes you the most comfortable.”

“Fair enough.” he scooted over slightly, allowing her to join him without saying anything further. It was a beautiful night, the light dusting of snow that covered the ground chilling the concrete pad that he currently sat on. Still, he couldn’t say that he minded. He’d been in worse weather, forced to brave the elements or simply perish. This was nothing in comparison. The warmth of the home’s interior beckoned him, but he would not give in. Not just yet.

Sitting down beside him, she offered him the mug and he took it, the young red-haired woman shivering as her body made contact with the pavement. She was more than happy to accept his wordless invitation. She gripped her mug firmly with one hand, wrapping her blanket around herself. And for a moment, she said nothing, taking a sip of the hot chocolate that she’d promised them both earlier that evening. She then glanced over at Vergil, assuming that he was probably cold in much the same way that she was. And without giving it much consideration, she took the side of her blanket that was closest to him and draped it over his shoulders, her desire to make sure that he was warm evident.

Vergil looked up at her and away from his drink, quietly observing her actions and determining that she probably wasn’t warm enough to be sharing this blanket with him in the first place. And besides, he wasn’t cold. His internal temperature was… different from hers. And much easier to regulate considering his demonic blood. And the fact that he actually liked being cold only helped to aid in this endeavor further.

He shifted closer to her, sharing his warmth with her as she’d shared hers with him. He didn’t mind being close to her. And as he took a sip of his hot chocolate, he was surprised to see that not only had she nearly finished her own drink by that point but that she had scooted the rest of the way over, her shoulder and side touching his own. She took another sip of her drink before setting the cup aside and resting her head on his shoulder, her eyes closed. And the Darkslayer made no move to remove her, unbothered by her touch. In fact, more than being unbothered, he felt a strange closeness to her at that moment that he couldn’t say he’d ever felt before. He wasn’t sure how to put it into words or how to repress it, but it was there, nonetheless.

They stayed there together in silence for the better part of 10 minutes, simply basking in the warmth and company that they provided one another. The stars were virtually impossible to see overhead due to the fact that they were in the inner city and that clouds blanketed the night sky, but the moon was bright and the sky gleamed with snowy whiteness, the sort of bright night that only winter snow could bring. Neither of them felt the need to go anywhere or do anything. If this moment could drag out forever, they would be content. And after a little while, it was Vergil's turn to strike up a conversation. 

He looked at Vivienne, her long red hair draped over his shoulder. Her eyes were closed and her breathing steady, drowsiness clearly setting in. And without giving it so much as a second thought, he used the back of his hand to stroke her cheek from the underside of her eye to the curvature of her jaw. She opened her eyes slowly, looking at him and clearly knowing what he had just done but not saying anything. The red tent to her cheeks gave away her embarrassment, and although she didn't look bothered, there was something else in her eyes that he couldn't place. Something fierce; a sort of longing he didn't recognize. She felt the same way he did, even if he wasn't sure what that feeling was just yet.

Vergil rested his hand there, not moving it as he looked her in the eyes. By whatever Gods there may or may not be, she had the most gorgeous green eyes he’d ever seen. He could look into them forever and become utterly lost but still feel the same fondness he felt right then. He hoped he wasn't making her uncomfortable. But his suspicions were dismissed the moment she reached up and grasped his hand, intertwining her fingers with his as she allowed him to rest his hand on the space between her neck and her shoulder. He watched her do this and regarded it quietly, more or less neutral to the action despite his general dislike of being touched. He couldn't recall the last time someone had even attempted to touch his hands, let alone succeeded. And as she leaned into his shoulder he allowed his chin to rest on the top of her head, holding her there. Never in a million lifetimes would he have ever pictured himself doing something like this, but here he was. Doing it.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Vergil obviously was not talking about the night sky. He wasn't even looking at it, but he was too focused on her to even pay attention to that small inconsistency in his statement. He just wanted to look at her. To be near her. To ignore the nagging feeling in his gut that wouldn't let him enjoy this moment the way he truly wanted to. The little voice in the back of his mind that refused to allow him peace and insisted that he continued to suffer in solitude. And it insisted upon this on the basis that it was what was best for him, but for the first time in his life, he wasn't sure that it was. He’d always thought that he was better off alone, but maybe… 

It was so hard to let go of that part of himself but he was going to find a way. He wanted to trust her. He had no reason not to. Being around her brought him… it made him happy. He wanted to feel like this more often. Safe and at peace. It had been so very long.

“Yes.” Her eyes were filled with nothing but fondness, her mind clearly unable to make a statement that was more impactful. She didn’t have any words for this sort of thing, and neither did he. And it seemed that they both knew this. There was only one thing she really wanted to say at all. “Please… you are welcome to stay as long as you like. I just want to know that you're safe.”

Vergil tilted his head slightly so that he could get a better look at her. He wanted to look her in the eyes again, to pull her closer. With a bask in the warmth that he had stolen from her despite his lack of a need for it. He wanted to know that she was safe, too.

“I cannot stay long. Or for any meaningful period of time, at least for now. I have… affairs to attend to. Pressing matters that hold personal significance.”

She vaguely recalled him mentioning something about trying to track down someone who was related to him and assumed that he was probably still on the train. That made sense. But regardless, her offer still stood. It was important that he knew he was wanted there. That she wanted him to be there. That… that she needed him to be alright.

“We, when you're not attending to them, find your way through my doorway again. I’ll leave it open for you.” her eyes looked dreamy as she glanced up at him, a soft, warm smile on her face. If only they could stay as they were right then forever, mutually at peace with one another. But they both had things to attend to that required their focus. Still, that didn't mean that they couldn't make time for one another. “I just want you to know that you have somewhere to go. And someone who wants you to be safe.”

The Darkslayer flinched slightly, his subconscious mind traveling back to the reality of a manner that she knew nothing about. He knew that he should tell her, but how could he? How could he even bring up something so outrageous? So unbelievable. So unfathomable. But equally so, how could he keep it a secret? He wasn't quite deceiving her since she hadn't asked, but how could she think to ask something like that? And would he lose her if he volunteered that information? Did she have a right to know something like that“I… feel you would rescind that offer if you knew more about me.”

“Everyone has secrets and things that they’ve done that they regret, Vergil. Give me a chance to prove you wrong." She said, her voice barely more than a whisper. She couldn't think of a single thing that he could have done that would be so awful that he felt it would lead to her outright abandoning him. She wasn't going to pretend that she knew much about his personal life or the things that he had done before they had met, but there were very few things that she could imagine he had done that would so definitely push her away.

He cursed himself internally, wondering how he would approach that topic. Or if he could approach that topic at all. It probably wasn't wise to tell anyone that sort of information, but then again, she wasn't just anyone. And there was no one she could tell that could do any harm with the information. Besides, he didn't get the impression that Vivienne was the sort of gossip. And in the pit of his stomach, that fear that he would drive her away by keeping it from her but run her away by telling her was gnawing at him, eating away at a bit of his resolve slowly and incrementally. He would push this matter aside for the time being. He could change his mind later. But not too much longer. This was not the sort of thing he could drag out for long periods of time. He would need to make a decision, but it just wouldn't be tonight.

“Not my secrets, Vivienne. I can promise you as much." His eyes pivoted upward towards the night sky, the glimmer of the Moon shining in his eyes. He would enjoy this moment. He would put his worries aside for now. He could not trouble himself with the reality of things that he could neither change nor control. And he most certainly couldn't prevent them. He had issued himself an ultimatum, and he was going to act upon it. But for now, he needed to not linger on those thoughts. They were poisonous to his desire to do what he knew he needed to do. He would gather his nerves and pick a time. That was all that could be done. "But if you are unbothered by them… perhaps I will accept your offer in time, even against my better judgment. Just not tonight.”

“Good.” She moved to stand up taking his mug along with her own. What little chocolate was left in her cup was cold now, but she hardly noticed. Her drink was the last thing on her mind. And as she brushed some of her hair over her shoulder and pulled the door open, she glanced back at him with what could only be described as an amorous look up on her face. There it was again. That something in her eyes again that he couldn't place. "By the way… you don't have to sleep on the floor if you don't want to. I have blankets but… What I mean is… You can always stay in my room with me. I don't mind."

Her entire face was red as he stared at her, wondering for a moment what could have her so flustered. Everything about her body language screamed apprehension and awkwardness, but in a way that he couldn’t quite place. It seemed as though she were concerned that he would be put off by the offer in some way or find it unsavory to some extent. But how could he? How would an invitation to sleep…

Realization hit him like a bolt from the blue as his breath left him and he went bright red in the face. She didn't mean it in that capacity… did she? And if she didn't, did she think he would think that she did? And if she did, how did he feel about that? It was a thought that had not occurred to him until just now, and he felt as though he had just had ice water dumped on him, not from fear, but from pure and utter astonishment and whiplash. He had to be getting ahead of himself. That was what he would settle upon for now. Vergil refused to assume that she was offering anything of the sort. It was beneath his dignity and so for respect to do so, and certainly disrespectful to her. But… if she clarified one way or another… Would he even consider… 

Why in the world was he thinking about something like this?!

"Thank you, Vivienne. I shall… consider my options." Vergil did his level best to hide his growing embarrassment. What on Earth had this conversation turned into?

She chuckled awkwardly as her face turned bright red before scurrying off in something of a hurry back towards the kitchen, clearly embarrassed by her own actions. She didn’t seem upset, however. Perhaps he’d misconstrued her intentions? It was a good thing that he’d assumed nothing… After all, he was the last person to ask about this sort of thing. He was probably just imagining things.

And as the door closed behind her and left him there alone with his thoughts, all he could do was shake his head. He was getting in over his head, and he was getting ahead of himself. One thing at a time. He could assume nothing. He would assume nothing. He couldn’t pretend to know what she was thinking when he himself wasn’t even sure about himself. That was the bare minimum that he owed her. It seemed that at the very least, they had a lot to talk about.

(-~-)

OMG Vivienne and Vergil… These poor things. I can’t wait to talk to you all about this in the comment section. Something tells me it’s going to be really funny lol! I’ll see you all next week! Take care and happy spooky month to all of you!

#Petrichor #Vergil #Vergil Sparda #My Post DMC5 AU #AU #DMC5 #DMC #DMCV #Post DMC5 #Post DMCV #Devil May Cry #Devil May Cry 5 #AUs #Devil May Cry V #My Post DMCV AU #My Post Devil May Cry 5 AU #My Post Devil May Cry V AU #Post DMC AU

[my-white-canvas]

The cookies coming into Y/N's world but with a twist Part 2

Ok after you take your shit you wash your hands thoroughly and walk out to check on the cookies.

They were playing around in your room checking every nook and cranny, Pure Vanilla and Strawberry Crepe looking on your laptop, Herb, Carrot and Fig looking at your plants near the window, Latte, Espresso, Alchemist and Wizard admiring your "mixing pot" when it was just your blender, Custard sitting on his newfound throne, Sea Fairy, Sorbet and Squid chillin in your sink and The Dark cookies shredding your dessert recipe book.

You gather them up on an table, as you were about to ask them a question Mango asked 'Excuse me, I was wondering what you were doing on that chair? There was quite a foul odor there" you were embarrassed to tell them you were taking a shit so you asked them if they know how the human body works all of them answered no so you tell them in the simplest way possible what you were doing they were fascinated on your explanation (it sounded pretty stupid from other peoples perspective)

So you finally ask them "what are you guys doing here and how did you get here?" Pure Vanilla answered in a cheery voice "we came here to visit you dear Baker and we came here the same way you escaped"

You were a little surprised with the "escaped" word but brushed it of so you hang out with the cookies for the rest of the day while getting a heart attack most of the time when your friends text you they were coming by to hang out you tried to tell they but they said they were busy tomorrow so their coming today

You told the cookies their friends were coming by today so they needed to behave they promised they would behave but right after that Licorice gut stuck in the toaster, Sorbet fell in the toilet, Pure Vanilla and Hollyberry almost fell from your high bookshelves of anime figures and from keen observation you can't trust them to behave properly so as punishment you find a big clear box (putting aside the children so they don't get traumatized) put them inside and put it on a table, closed the box then made them watch dessert mukbang for 5 minutes while you were waiting for your friend.

Your friends arrived while the cookies punishment was still ongoing, they were confused, you explained and finished their traumatizing punishment they were on their knees begging you to never do that again, after that you bought out the children who were in your bedroom watching a movie on your laptop and you introduced them to each other "guys here the cookies you know and love" the cookies saying their Hello's to them to the cookies "so everyone these are my friends, and they helped me through some tough times" your friends were flustered with their introduction from you.

After that you, your friends and the cookies have been talking to each other all day, and your friends were quite disturbed with Pure Vanilla's addiction of you and Hollyberry tried to lighten the mood from Pure Vanilla's tense choice of words and after a while you notice it was getting dark so one of your friends suggested to go out for karaoke night, all your friends agreed but the cookies were confused but your other friend just shoved them to a bag and carried them to their car so you close up your house, grabbed your mini bag and followed them

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

Ok I'm done. I was typing on my laptop so there may or may not be typos and Im still not used to typing here

#crk #crk pure vanilla cookie #crk self aware #crk x reader #pure vanilla cookie #sea fairy cookie #sorbet shark cookie #mango cookie #squid ink cookie #hollyberry cookie #yandere pure vanilla cookie