#I’m a cookie expert though | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jarofstyles · 2 months

Text

Buttercream

Hello my loves! This is the first part to our Patreon exclusive series, Buttercream. The ready is available on Patreon (over 18 parts) and is still being updated. You all asked to see what’s available to read and I’m giving you sneaks of it!

A series featuring an Alpha Architect Harry, a bossy bakery owning omega Y/N, the sweetest treats taste tested and some steamy smut.

Check out our Patreon for all parts of the series and 150+ exclusive writings.

——-

The smell kept him coming back.

In his life, Harry had been to a quite a few bakeries. He could be considered an expert on fudge brownies, a specialist on cupcakes and the swirls of icing, a connoisseur of croissants. He treated himself a bit too often, if his mother had anything to say with it. His sweet tooth had always been prevalent in his life.

The new bakery down the road from his job, though? That had made him a true problem.

Every day before work, he stopped. Suit and all, pulling into the parking lot and nearly drooling the moment he got out. His feet carried him towards the door and the smell hit him immediately. Sweet buttercream, frothy vanilla, spiced cinnamon, and… something else. That something else that had him nearly vibrating, and now on a mission to have the whole menu to figure out just what the hell that scent was.

It was intoxicating. Mesmerizing. If Harry didn’t have work, he would spend hours just sitting here to smell it. It had a weird hold on him, and he didn’t quite know how to ask if it was an air freshener. That was unlikely for anywhere but restrooms anyways considering how offensive it could be for the noses of alpha’s and omegas alike. A bad scented one could send them into moods. Or even sickness. The sense of smell was very important.

“Mr.Styles.” The teen manning the cash register saluted him. He came in every day and was known to the cashiers, so he had ruled out it being one of them. Thank god. They were either young enough to not have a scent or too old for it to be possible. “What will it be today? Y/N’s been whipping up a storm for the holidays. New recipes. We’ve got a peppermint bark brownie that would go well with the peppermint mocha you like.” She chirped, watching as he scanned the cases.

Harry was a little intimidating but he was exceptionally charming. He smiled, he conversed, he tipped well, but he always seemed to be looking around. Trying to find something that no one could really place. The bakery was empty besides a mum and her friend with their kids, munching on treats and coffee as they watched the traffic go by. It wasn’t them. Harry’s ears did perk up when he heard an unfamiliar name.

“Y/N?” He asked, tilting his head as his attention went back to the cashier. “Who’s that? The owner?” Harry had never met the owner. For some reason, every time he came in the morning she had stepped out for her own break. It didn’t bother him so long as his compliments to the baker got passed along, but hearing her name stirred something in his chest.

“Yep.” She popped the p in her word. “She’s awesome. She started this all on her own after she went viral on the internet. She got the funds from online orders. You see the custom cakes and stuff but she does awesome experimental flavors. She doesn’t care if they’re hits or misses and let’s us go home with leftovers.” There was obvious pride to be working for someone like Y/N. It peaked his interest.

“Oh?” He asked, leaning his body against the counter. “That’s incredible. I’d be very happy to taste some of the new things.” He flashed a smile, tapping his card against the wood of the counter. “What would you think Y/N would suggest?” And why did saying her name make him feel silky and hot? Like it was meant to live on his lips? They tingled as the word left his mouth, making him shift his stance slightly. His skin was buzzing slightly as he heard someone else come from the back.

“She would suggest the peppermint bark brownies, the s’mores donut, the lemon cream cookie and the chili chocolate cupcake. Spice and sweet work surprisingly well together.” The airy voice went to his bones.

Harry could smell it fully now. The scent that laced the bakery was now engulfing him. Filling the space, making him inhale it with each breath. His hand tightened on the card, curling into a fist at his side as he caught a glimpse of her. She had been the source. It wasn’t a baked good or a cashier, but it was the baker herself that was making him addicted to the sweets laced with her scent.

He was silent as he observed her, a smile quirked on her lips. Slightly glossy and deliciously plump as she greeted the cashier with a simple hey and asking her to go to the back to grab the other new tray of cinnamon buns. Sliding them on to the rack, she used her hip to gently nudge the counter open and grabbed one for Harry.

“Here. On the house.” She slid the bag over to him with her soft simper, hands tapping on the wood.

She was marvelous.

Harry was speechless. Something he never usually was- the alpha could talk to a brick wall if he needed to- but this sweet little omega has been slowly hypnotizing him with her scent over the course of a month and now he was finally seeing her. He loved delayed gratification, a fan of edging, but this? He wished he had seen her far earlier.

“Hi.” He peeped. His face looked like he saw a ghost. The woman in front of him was like a mirage- and he wasn’t trying to be dramatic. He swore she was familiar to him in some way. Some how. She was all omega in the ways that called to him. The curve of her face and her soft voice… he could have started purring if he didn’t have some semblance of self control in his body.

“Hi.” She returned the greeting with a soft chuckle that heated his chest. “I hope you like the suggestions. I recognized your voice. You’ve been in here every morning we’re open and I figured it was about time to meet the loyal customer.” She chirped, brushing the stray hair that had fallen from her ponytail behind her ears. The adorably disheveled look added to her appeal.

A candy apple red apron was dusted with various baking material, tied around her waist snug. It showed the curve of her waist went deeper than what he could tell under her sweatshirt that appeared to have the bakery name printed on it. A swipe of flour was decorating her forehead, like she had wiped hair from her face and simply forgot about flour coated hands. Little details he was memorizing to think about later.

“I love the smell.” He blurted out. Immediately, he winced. That hadn’t been what he had meant to say, at least how he had meant to say it. Heat crept up further under his cheeks as he opened and closed his mouth, watching her giggle a bit as he tried to find his bearings.

“Fucking hell- I meant to say, I love your bakery. It smelled amazing when I went past it so I decided to stop in a few weeks ago and now it’s become a part of my daily routine. I bring in pastries for the office.”

“Aren’t you a star coworker.” She cooed, turning from him with a wink as she grabbed one of the red boxes and began to construct it. “They must love you at the office. I have on good authority that the one that brings the snacks, gets the pats on the back. Especially hand made, beautifully crafted baked goods.” She teased, opening up the case and beginning to place some sweets into it.

“I’d hope they like me. I’m their boss.” He laughed quietly, scratching the back of his neck. Never has he felt more like a schoolboy talking to a playground crush. He was head to toe in a suit good enough to meet his best clients, and a girl with flour on her face was sending him to his knees. Each time she moved, a gentle waft of her scent was given his direction and made that ever loved self control hang by a thread.

“Ooooo. Bossman.” She grinned, wiggling her brow as she placed another iced brownie with crushed peppermint bark sprinkled on top into the box. “Should have guessed. Love the suit, by the way. You look very handsome.”

That little compliment made his day. The pretty omega with the prettier smile and mouthwatering scent thought he looked handsome. That would be lingering in his brain all day. How she thought he was handsome. The casual compliments.

“Thank you.” He preened. “We do interior and exterior design for businesses. Up and coming places and remodels. So if you ever need a guy- I’m here.” He placed his hands in his pockets and lifted up on his toes rocking back and forth.

“Oooo. Is it that bad in here? Do I need a renovation?” She sucked her teeth, tilting her head. It had him freezing, mouth falling open to grovel. He hadn’t meant to offend her at all, hadn’t tried to insinuate it needed a remodel.

“Shit- no, I’m sorry. It’s very cute in here, I didn’t mean to insinuate it needed any help. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how it would sound-“

“Cool it, bossman.” She cooed, laughing at how he had nearly fallen over himself. “I’m just messing with you. The place does need some exterior work, actually. I hadn’t had the budget when we first started, nor the time. But I didn’t take any offense to it. You’ve got to market yourself. Don’t worry.” Her reassurance made him melt into relief, leaning into the counter. This whole encounter had him feeling a bit on edge in the weirdest way. He wanted to snuggle this woman, yet he was almost afraid of her. An omega. He was afraid of an omega.

Anyone else would laugh at him, perhaps, but he felt the nervousness creeping in his bones. He wanted her to like him. He wanted her to think he was cool and want to know him better. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. She had unarmed his normal charm and made him feel like a nervous bundle of sweat and it was exhilarating.

“I’ll take a card, though.” She placed her hand out flat. “If you’ve got one. I’m gonna check out your website.”

Harry fished one out of his wallet, thankful he kept them on hand. It had his office number, and part of him wanted to offer his personal cell but he knew that would be a bit weird. Especially if she wanted to use his services. He almost hoped she didn’t- asking a client on a date wasn’t good for the image, was it? He wasn’t sure.

“If you’ve got any questions you can reach out on the email there, it’s a direct line to me- or uh, I come in every day so.” He shrugged. “Around this time. You’ve got very good coffee too. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good hazelnut. People put a lot of syrups and things… but your shop does it the best.”

“Thank you.” She seemed chuffed with his praise. “I taste test everything with the crew here. You’ll be in for a treat. If you’re coming in every morning, do you think you’d want to be a bit of a guinea pig for me?” She slid the box across the counter. “I’ve been experimenting like my lovely employee was saying. But I’d love a real customers opinion. Even if it’s bad. I want to know what the consumer likes.”

Harry was shocked. Y/N was kind of treating him like a friend, like she valued his exact opinion. He couldn’t deny he felt exceptionally special. Having not only the owner of the bakery but an omega he had some sort of crush on suddenly want to sample the new things she sells and get his opinion on it.

“Oh- uh. Alright. Of course! I can do that.” He grinned shyly, handing his card over for her to pay for the things she had put into the box. “I come in every morning during the week so… you can just let me know what’s new to taste.” There was a giddiness in his stomach. An excuse to talk to her every day. Or at least a few times a week. He’s never really reacted this way to an omega before, the scent craving, the shyness he suddenly felt, all of it was so new to him and he was unsure how to navigate it but he didn’t want to stop. He only wanted more.

“Perfect. What is your name, by the way?” The card was handed back to him and there was slight disappointment their fingers didn’t brush, but Harry took today was a victory.

“Harry. Harry Styles. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Y/N. I’m glad to meet you too. I hope to see more of you soon.”

465 notes · View notes

multific · 1 year

Text

Little You-s and I-s

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: You and Tommy deal with the changes that come with your pregnancy.

Your pregnancy changed you a lot.

You became more sensitive to smell for example.

One evening, Thomas arrived home from the bar, and as soon as you caught the smell of drinks and smoke on him, you rushed to the bathroom.

Then there was the incident when you craved fish but before you could cook it, the smell of it caught your nose and again, rushing for the toilet you went.

Thomas was incredibly happy when you told him the news, having his own family with you was always a goal of his.

What he didn't like however is just how sensitive you became and one thing that set it off easily was his cigarettes.

Thomas smoked a lot, so for him to not be able to do that in his own home was a bit challenging, but he still found ways to smoke one or two in the furthest part of the garden. Even then, sometimes the wind carried the smell right back to you.

"No smoking and no drinks!" yelled Tom at John as he pulled out a cigarette.

"What? Why?"

"My wife is pregnant, she is sensitive to the smell."

"Oooh, it got that bad huh?" asked John as you entered the room with a tray, on the tray there were some cookies and tea.

"I'll appreciate if you can hold yourself from smoking just this once John, the smell of it just..."

"No problem, thank you for the tea."

"I'll leave you to it." you smiled at your husband who nodded before he turned to John, talking about business.

When lunchtime was approaching, both John and Tom found themselves in the kitchen where you were currently chopping up some carrots and crying.

"Darling, I'm sure the carrots don't mind us eating them."

"Tell that to the headless chicken in the oven, Thomas!" you quickly said back making both men take a step back, Thomas should have known not to argue with you.

Both headed into the dining room instead.

"Is pregnancy supposed to affect a woman this much?" asked John in a hushed tone.

"I think so? I'm no expert John. Arthur has children, he might know more."

"She is glowing though. She was crying but she still looked like a Goddess."

"Can't argue with that, John. But keep your wandering eyes to yourself, she is my wife."

"Does she always cry during cooking?"

"As of late, yes. Yesterday, she made salmon, cried her heart about as she was talking about the poor little fishies the one she cooked left behind. But then this morning, she cried when she made salad. Saying the potatoes didn't deserve to die this way."

"So, she is sensitive to smell, cries when the cooks, can't get worse than that, I'd say."

"She talks back like I have never heard before."

"Okay, I was wrong it can get worse. You mean to tell me, that my lovely shy sister-in-law talks back? The one who didn't dare to tell you she didn't like the ring you gave her?" Thomas made a face at John's confession.

"She didn't like the ring?"

"No, she said she wished you would have given her something more simple. But she didn't want to tell you because she would hurt your feelings."

"Well now, with my child under her heart, she is not afraid to talk from her heart. The other day she told me I should dress better, apparently my suits make me look old. Then she wanted to dance and when I said I don't have the energy she complained that I never have when it comes to her. This is true sadly, however, the latest one... oh Johnny, my boy just before you arrived, she told me to ask you not to smoke and when I told her that you will be free to do as you please, the look. That look I know well, it's the look of someone who is about to murder. She said I either tell you to not smoke or-" Thomas stopped as he felt a shiver run down his spine, both men turned towards the door only to find you with the food in your hands on a tray.

You approached them and placed the food in front of them. The air was cold, John swore he could have cut the tension with a spoon.

"I told him he either asks you not to smoke or I will seriously question his position as the leader, as all leaders should be listened to and respected. And if he is not able to do so, then I shall take his place. So, you are not allowed to smoke John." John nodded, not even daring to look at you.

"Th-Thank you for the meal." John said.

"I know I can be a handful since I'm with child, I feel the change in myself, the doctor said it was hormones to blame, but I seriously hope you do not plan on talking our dear Johnny's ears off with my silliness, Dear Thomas. He doesn't have to know everything."

"Of course, Love. I apologize." Thomas grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on it.

John left soon after lunch and you were now washing the dishes as Tom was reading in the living room.

Once all dishes were done, you headed into the living room, a soft song playing as he was reading in his favourite armchair. He put the paper down when he saw you approach and you sat on his lap, your head on his chest as he continued to read with one hand as the other was now around you, comforting you.

"Am I really that annoying that you talk to John about it?"

"You are not annoying, Love. Odd, sometimes yes, but that isn't due to pregnancy." you giggled a little.

You were fine with 'odd'.

"I try to control it, you know?"

"Oh, God, is this the controlled version? I'm scared now for the uncontrolled one."

"It will get worse, I'm warning you because the doctor said last week that this will only grow as the baby does."

"It's alright, your body will change, I can take a few harsh words, I took bullets after all." he placed a kiss on your forehead.

"Do you want a girl or a boy?" you asked with a rather quiet voice.

"I don't really care, as long as both of you are safe and healthy."

"So you want a boy, got it." Tommy laughed you looked up at him, into his blue eyes. "I just want them to have your eyes."

"What if they don't?"

"Then we try until we have a child who does." you smiled at him as he looked at you.

"Just how many children my Missus want?"

"Oh, as many as my lovely husband would give me. We have a big house, it would be nice to have some life in it. Little you-s and I-s running around."

"I would like that. Honestly, I would like that very much. But let's see how you do after this one, then we will talk."

You hummed before you placed another kiss on his lips, letting him return to his paper as comfortable silence fell.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @paola-carter @stunkbiggu @violet-19999 @praline357

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

4K notes · View notes

simonrillleyyysss · 7 months

Note

thinking about being cuddled up with simon on a cold cloudy winter/autumn day :,) with hot chocolate of course, AND BAKING COOKIES

the slow transition from autumn to winter is definitely his fave part

‘how long do they have to be left there?’

simons gruff voice barked out, kneeling down infront of the oven—which was now set with an ember light, the cookies on the tray slowly rising.

‘12 minutes, i think..’

you called back from the sofa, eyes fixated on the television while swirling the thick, chocolatey substance around with the straw, marshmallows bubbling atop the whipped cream, gently taking a sip from the straw, blowing on the mug to cool it down.

‘y’ think?’

‘well, i dunno—i’m not really a cookie expert, simon.’

you retorted, rolling your eyes as he hummed, rising to his full height before slumping over to the sofa, eyebrow cocking upwards as he glanced towards the screen.

‘whatcha watching?’

‘gilmore girls.’

there was silence for s moment, before he just nodded his head and hummed, lifting the blanket from you and throwing it atop his lap while you slowly peer over at him in dissatisfaction.

‘what?’

he piped, itching the back of his neck as he laid against the pillows scattered behind him, yawning dramatically and stretching his legs out, resting them atop your lap.

‘..are you actually being serious? it’s freezing, you took my blanket and now this—‘

‘hm?’

‘get off me!’

with a high whine, you pushed his legs off of your lap; only for him to move them back up straight after, chuckling in amusement.

‘give me a kiss and i’ll consider it.’

‘what are you, ten?’

‘thought you loved me?’

he stated, watching your brows knit together before groaning, leaning over to peck him on the lips for a second, pulling back to take a sip of your hot chocolate, nudging his towards him.

‘call that a kiss? guess it’ll do.’

simon said with a long sigh, faux anger coming onto his face.

‘oh-come on, sisi!’

you complained, looking over at him with pursed lips and a scrunched nose, finishing off your hot chocolate before standing up, flopping ontop of the burly figure now beneath you, kissing his nose affectionately as he took a sip from his hot chocolate.

‘gosh, yr’ heavy.

‘siiiiii!’

‘just teasing, sugar.’

the brit chuckled, arms moving to wrap around your waist, your legs, which were being heated by pyjama bottoms, straddled his lap, head pressed against his chest with a pout, cheek smushing against it.

‘this shows so bad.’

‘you haven’t even watched it, simon.’

‘because it’s bad.’

‘atleast theyre not burnt!’

you said with a sense of pride, smallpiping bag filled to the brim with frosting in your hand as you decorated the sugar cookies cookies, licking the remains off of your fingers.

‘that’s so unhygienic, dirty brute.’

simon rasped, tutting his tongue as he reached over to dap a bit of the frosting onto his finger, putting it flat against his tongue and humming in approval.

‘you’re worse!’

‘i didn’t do it first, though. yr’ being a bad influence.’

with a roll of your eyes, you reached down to take a cookie—placing it in your mouth and biting down, chewing for a few seconds before giving him a thumbs up.

‘whuere rhealluh ghood!’

you muffled while chewing, pausing and swallowing before continuing your sentence.

‘they’re really good, we could be like—bakers!’

‘yeah, sure thing..’

‘swear!’

ghost took a bite from the cookie, chewing for a moment before shrugging.

‘i’ve had better.’

‘that’s what i say after sex.’

you mumbled beneath your breath, rolling your eyes.

‘what the fuck did you sa-‘

‘nufin.’

you quickly cut him off, tucking your hair behind your ear before lifting the tray, sliding them onto a plate and heading to the livingroom, nibbling on them contently as your attention turned to the foggy air outside, trees dead with leafs scuttered across the sidewalks and grass.

‘wonder what santa is gonna get y’ for christmas.’

simon said lowly, sitting down and wrapping his arm around your waist, patting your hip as you snuggled into him lovingly, eyes closed.

‘oh, fuck off.’

‘love you too, sexy.’

#ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon ghost x reader #ghost is babygirl #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley headcanons #simon riley x oc #simon riley ghost #simon riley x you #simon riley fluff #simon riley x reader #simonrillleyyysss

370 notes · View notes

50cal-fullauto-astarion · 10 months

Text

☈ your bones singing into mine ii

one - two

nikto x gen!bio-weapons engineer reader (no use of y/n) 3.4k words cw: honestly just the relationship being dysfunctional, also like warlord sugar daddy overtones, but that's just how this cookie is gonna crumble Nikto has swept you out of the darkness, and into an intact world burning full of ugly lights. He meets your every need as you work to create weapons to supply him an armory of shock and awe. He buys for you a place in Bruges, a rowhouse right on the water, and your only desire is a romantic dinner with him. He does not have it within himself to deny you.

Nikto brings you out into a world that is bright and burning, but mostly whole. He tells you that things are tied on a shoestring of balance, that any strong enough blow of breeze could tip the whole house of cards, and he has a look in his eyes that names himself typhoon.

He is one of the most complex and deeply locked men you have ever met in your life, and you have met a great many men with secrets that could turn cities into subatomic particles in a blinding flash of a second. He wants to father a new world, a savage paradise, and, yet, he holds you in the palm of his velvet-covered iron fist as his finest treasure.

Penthouses are cleared out for you–places high in the sky, in any number of cities, so far away from the ground and the dark. He pours money into your comfort like hemorrhaging, and he cares not that his funds bleed, because he can always dump more into the wound.

It’s a wound he wants to sustain, because he likes to see you clean, and comfortable, and sparking electricity as you work. He provides makeshift, mobile labs for you. Thousands upon thousands of dollars for computers, and programs, and security. Though he lifts you into the light, he makes you a small space of darkness, allowing you to run and return to your work.

He begins to call you Spider, or Pauk, depending on whether his English is dropping your name like a threat, or if his Russian is soft and trying to entreat you.

There is a place in Bruges, right on the water, that he pulls together for you. It is smaller than your other hideaways, cozier. Bulb-lit with warm wooden flooring and tall walls. He walks stiffly through the halls, watching for your reaction, and his shoulders relax when you turn from the window watching boats on the water to give him your cracked grin.

“It’s out of a book,” you say, “the buildings are such bright colors. How is this real?”

“It’s always been this way here,” he tells you. He shuffles a moment, bringing his clasped hands from his back to his front, before he adds quietly, “We’re glad that you…find it acceptable here.”

Surely he is remembering the blocs he grew up on, all the colorless brutalist construction from the Soviet era. Houses for workers, starvation in the streets. You wonder if his place had heriz rugs all over the floors, to insulate sound and cushion steps and provide color.

You press your fingertips into the cool glass, looking at him, wondering about him. You’d like to see his face, though he’s told you that it is a nightmare. You’d like to kiss him. You know he loves you, just as you love him.

“It’s perfect. I’m going to like it here,” you tell him, and your heart swells and patters when his shoulders raise a little bit, proud of himself for his pick. With his hidden face, you’ve become an expert in his body language. All his little tells become clear to you, the more time you spend with him.

He is slow with you, cautious. Not as if approaching a wild animal, he would never treat you with such base suspicion and wariness, but as if he is the animal, well-aware of exactly how powerful his bite is. He treasures you too much to damage you.

Such brutality is held within this many-faceted man, vast and damning. He is a gentleman though, through accident or practice, and he puts that hardwork into effect with you.

It causes you to make the first move most of the time.

“I want you to have dinner with me tonight,” you say, tapping your fingers against the glass, feeling the condensation cling to your fingerprints.

He shakes his head. “Your value is too high for us to allow you out of the flat, Pauk,” he says gently, misunderstanding, as if reminding you. There are so many beautiful homes he has carved out for you, but you’ve never stepped foot outside of them.

He thinks you want to, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. The reality is that you are brimming with hatred at the fact it still stands. That your suffering was for nothing, and the apocalypse still lies dormant but rumbling, a stalled birth. You love your closed spaces and your blackout curtains that hide the world and your tall walls and bright lights.

“We can have something ordered and brought to you,” he continues, trying to soothe the blow that never landed.

A grunt of annoyance snaps out of your throat, hand pressing flat to the glass. “Nooo,” you draw out, turning to face him in full. “I want you all to eat here, with me. Only us, none of the guards making all that fucking noise with their heavy boots. And I want to pretend that we’re all just having a nice night. And there are no contagions or stadiums or belt-fed guns.”

In shame, his head drops a degree, arms tightening in front of him. The supple leather of his gloves creak. “Apologies, Pauk.” His head remains that one slice lower, but his eyes flicker up like a bird’s from beneath his rippy lashes. “We…” he pauses, trying to formulate the words, “we will put that together. For you. What do you want to eat?”

Your hand comes away from the glass, and you press your palms together like a prayer, holding the sides of your hands to your lips. “I want something bloody and buttery. Something good made by someone that doesn’t love me.”

A small noise like a laugh sounds behind his heavy mask, and his neck relaxes. It puts together a picture of thought: it’s a good thing we do not cook for you, then. “We will find something.”

Neither of you cook. It’s a sad reality. You were too built up for epidemiology and plague-practitioning to have the room or time to learn the skill, and Nikto readily admits that he’d long ago lost his sense of smell. “Nova gas,” he explained, funnily enough. “That was your grandfather’s work, yes?” It was. He and his team. You are a legacy leper-making, just like God and all of his followers.

The sun has settled fully in the city of Bruges, and the light of street lamps, the running lights of boats on the water, and fairy lights around shopfronts make the water glitter. It is warm here, with all the brick and cobblestone soaking up the yellow light, and for once you are fine with the curtains open.

Nikto has spoiled you rotten with clothing, all of it fine and soft and rich. You dress comfortably, beautifully, and wander the flat, looking over things leftover from past tenants, waiting on his return. He always leaves you with a guard when he is gone, and tonight it is a short but sturdy woman from Montenegro who does not speak. She sits on the small leather couch in the living room, reading a book with horses on the cover, rifle across her lap. You do not bother her, but you cannot wait for her to leave.

When Nikto arrives, it’s with yet another guard, this one in plainclothes, carrying two large paper bags in their arms. It’s always seemed funny to you that he just goes out in the mask, nightmare beneath it or not, and that people must have reactions in public. But, you don’t think Nikto travels anywhere that people would dare comment on it. He has lackeys for embarrassing, mundane duties.

He takes the bags from the second guard, and dismisses the woman on the couch, letting you approach to lock the deadbolts on the back of the door when they’re out. It is your comfort and your right, he will not interfere with it.

Meeting his eyes, you grin a cracked grin at him. “Smells good. What is it? What was the restaurant called?”

He makes another laugh-noise, looking skin-close to bashful. “We do not know. We sent Dejanović to get it, he knows the city.” He peers into the bag. “He said foreign dignitaries enjoyed the place. We don’t feel like that always speaks well to quality.”

You try to take the bag into your hands, but his arm tightens. He does not like you doing menial tasks. He likes it only when you are free to tend to your work and whims. It is much preferable to him that your needs are met, and he is glad to tend to those tasks when he is with you.

“If it’s all rot and garbage, we can make zakuski instead, and wash it down with vodka,” you tell him, swaying a little, hoping the promise pleases him. “Tahumi brought me a can of caviar, and even found a mother-of-pearl spoon for it.”

His eyes grow hard at the mention of Tahumi giving you a gift. That is another thing that heckles him. He does not like others knowing about you, much less providing for you. That is his honor, and an honor he thinks it is.

Your mouth starts to curl. “Don’t eat yourself with knots,” you instruct him, but his eyes only grow harder, his posture stiffer. “I wanted it, and Tahumi saw it, and he bought it. He did it to please you, because you are so here-and-there with your underlings. Your favor can’t be curried because it doesn’t exist.”

“They are warm, walking corpses, and nothing more,” he says, stone-solid, cold. “We don’t need them for anything more than catching bullets and carrying out orders. You are not a tool to buy their way into security. There is none, and you–you’re–”

He turns his head and breathes out hard. His body is held so tightly it paints pain on the walls behind him. His molars squeak as they grind together, trying to collect himself, but he is upset.

“Andryu,” you say, pulling his diminutives, trying to pluck the chords that will bring him back to you. You bend your body to swerve, attempting to capture his eyes. “Andryusha.”

There is a little break in the armor, a crack where you can push your fingers in, to find contact with him. There is a little light in his eyes. “We cannot allow you to be taken advantage of. Your wholeness is…” he trails off, struggling, and you provide him the territory to prowl, find his words. He turns and meets your eyes, and there is his passion. “Our last shred of warmth is you. If you are pained, or used, or discarded–it is a blow that would destroy the last human thing in us.”

And, here, your scant humanity answers his. You fold, slope, ease. You nod in agreement. “I know, Andryu, I do. But all of you know where my loyalties lie. You know I wouldn’t hesitate to find you if I felt targeted.” You want so horrendously to reach out and touch him, but you don’t. You have to allow him to initiate, otherwise he cannot handle it. “My lot is in your lot. I go where you go. Everyone else is a corpse that forgot to lie down and die.”

Using his language in ways that he understands it unlocks him to you. His gloved hand comes up, hovering just to the side of your jaw. But he doesn’t touch, he only traces the air in a line down the bone structure.

He allows—or, rather, you give him no in allowing you to stand in the kitchen as he unpacks your meals to plate. It could be call an awkward affair, if either of you had the social graces to register that feeling in your minds.

He’s taken his gloves off and swatted at your hand trying to take the paper bag for recycling, giving you a sharp look borne of the love he holds. Again, not allowed to lift a finger.

There are faded Cyrillic characters tattooed across his knuckles, the black ink bloated and faded to blue. SOS across three fingers: either spasi, otets, syna or Suki Otnyali Svobodu. Save me, father, your son. Bitches robbed my freedom.

He’s never told you which in specific, though he’s offered both as options. Tattoos are carved into so much of his skin, and he’s given you brief walking tours of them when he’s stripped down enough for them to appear. A warping on Russian prison tattoos, repurposed for the Spetsnaz.

Epaulets on his shoulders—horses die from work. Devils just below those, oskals, hatred of authority. ‘I Fuck Poverty and Misfortune’ in Cyrillic, riding his Adonis belt. A lighthouse on his forearm, yearning for freedom. His skin tells his story, hard-lived, a language known to few.

His plating skills are what cause him minor self-consciousness. He’s not an artistic man, and he has no eye for aesthetics. The blood-rare ribeyes are just placed and pushed to one side of the plate, crumbled blue cheese dumped artlessly on top. Creamed potatoes end up slopping over roasted asparagus, and he growls in his throat, frustrated. He is trying incredibly hard to make it pleasing. The more he moves it around, trying to be careful, the worse it looks.

He wouldn’t care if it was solely for him. His frustration is because you will not be eating something pretty. In his mind, the only things you deserve are pretty and perfect.

His hands stop fussing, resting on the edge of the counter, glaring down at the plates. “It looks like shit,” he renders his verdict. It sounds like he is considering throwing it away and ordering something else.

“Pelmeni look like shit. So does poutine. But it all tastes good, so we still eat it,” you push back. “No one eats shiny plastic or tinsel.”

He grunts again. “People eat shiny plastic and tinsel all the time, because they are fucking stupid.”

“If any of you are insinuating that any of us are fucking stupid, you’re being a fucking child.” Despite the content of your words, it is not said with heat. It is an olive branch, trying to reach him across the expanse of his dissatisfaction. You’re not sure you’ve made contact until his fingers start tapping on the counter, and he hums Krokodil Gena’s Birthday Song deep in his chest. He is calming, rectifying reality with himself.

After a few, long moments, he picks up the plates, nodding at you, and carries them to the dining table outside the kitchen. It is situated in front of a set of big picture windows that he honestly does not like you standing near, ever, but it is for the sake of the evening. He sets your plate down, and pulls out your chair for you, before he seats himself. There are already sets of silverware and water on the table. A bottle of vodka, and two small glasses to drink from.

You start by pouring two sips of vodka, offering him one. A toast falls out of your mouth, unthinking, and he clinks your glasses together in agreement. When you put your shot back, he hands you his glass, and you shoot that, as well. He has not removed his mask. He will not. But he overturns his glass next to yours.

It’s an odd affair, how the meal goes. Conversation picks up, on plans and your work, on the state of the world as it stands. That will run out, and you will both turn to other topics. Books, movies, cars. Oh, Nikto has such a soft spot for cars–he could talk about them from dusk until dawn. Luxury cars, supercars, performance and rally cars, working vehicles, even an astonishing breadth of consumer cars. He has opinions that stretch the globe, and you soak it up like a dry sponge.

The oddest thing is that you eat, and he does not. He keeps his hands resting on either side of his plate, guarding it as if he was a prisoner, but he does not once touch his silverware. He won’t eat in front of anyone. He can’t, not without taking the mask off. It’s something he didn’t have to explain to you, you just understood it by studying his patterns. It’s something that made him even softer toward you.

You finish, part of your steak left–you intend to slice it up and put it on some grilled crusty bread with piles of caramelized onions later–resting your fork and your knife on the edge of your plate. “That was good. Despite the dignitaries and dog shit. I want a copy of their menu, to tear up and eat bit by bit. I want all of you to have more dates with me, this one dripped romantic. All the seams were splitting up, and it went drop by drop by drop.”

“Date?” he queries, looking at you across the table as he reaches for your plate.

“Date.” You nod once, emphatically.

He shudders, smothering something that sounds like a sigh, averting his eyes. “We…will make sure there is a menu for you, next time,” he starts, unphased by your request. “Roses, if you like.”

You shake your head. “No use for roses, they wilt and die. Flowers all-wilted smell like the dark parts of the bunker, and my stomach eats and eats away at me because of that smell.” You send an apologetic look across the table, thinking. “I’ll take tokens in trinkets. Whenever you bring me jewelry, I don’t take it off.”

As if in example, you pull up your sleeves, showing him the bracelets he’s brought you, left for your discovery on desktops and dressers. Next, you tug at your collar, showing him a pile of necklaces.

His fingers twitch, looking at you helplessly. Not even he can prevent the swallow that goes down his throat, when he sees that you hoard the fine things he brings back for you.

Another long moment passes, and he is hoarse when he agrees, “Jewelry. We will bring you jewelry, then.”

In as much of a rush as you’ve ever seen him, he collects your dishes, and the bottle of vodka, storming back through the kitchen door. It doesn’t latch behind him, and you know he will be a while. It feels dirty, destructive and found and deceitful, but you sneak up to the crack, wanting to watch him.

His back is turned, his mask removed. Hair so deep in darkness it shines white under lights sticks up from his head at all angles, some of it missing from the side of his skull, along with an ear. He eats quickly, in clipped bites, gorging himself, stopping only to tip back the vodka bottle. It’s almost an ugly display, brutal necessity, and you know as well as you know the own pounding of your heart that he is uncomfortable, that he hates this. He hates to be bare.

You cannot see his face, and you would not try to see it. You want to see it someday, and that will only happen when he is ready to show you. You will not steal that freedom from him. You will not sneak looks when he is unawares. It is the same courtesy he has afforded you, and you are hellbent to pay it back in kind.

With that prickling your skin, you back away from the door, allowing him his needs.

When he returns, sitting next to you on the couch, he is warmed-through and softened by the alcohol and food. He takes hold of your ankle, pulling it into his lap, rubbing the knob of your bone with his bare fingers. His masked head tips back, resting against the back of the couch, and he heaves a heavy sigh.

Your stomach clenches, and your heart races. There is so much love between the two of you, so impossibly massive that it cannot ever be feasibly dealt with, and that is something you are fine with when his eyes meet yours in a crinkled smile.

Perhaps your union will kill the world as it stands, but you don’t particularly mind. His hands are warm against your bones, reaching deeper than any other human possibly could, and he looks at you as if you are his only purpose in life, even if that is not true.

“Andryusha,” you greet him quietly, turning your leg in his touch so he can have more skin.

Another small noise, pleasure, and he rubs deeper, followed by a soft, heartsick request, “Say it again, Paukya.”

#nikto #nikto x reader #cod nikto #mwii nikto #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod mw x reader #my work

331 notes · View notes

lemonlover1110 · 10 months

Note

can i get a geto and gojo throuple with y/n one shot? you can write it whatever way you want bc I love your writing 😚❤️

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x gn!Reader x Suguru Getou

Summary: You and Suguru try to bake for Gojo

Warnings: Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Satoru loves sweets more than anything, so as good partners, you and Suguru have taken it upon yourself to make something extremely sweet for Satoru. Your only problem is that neither of you can bake. Suguru can cook something up, you’re an expert at making drinks, and baking is Satoru’s forte; you can’t ask Satoru for help though, it’s supposed to be a surprise.

“Baby, can you pass me the salt?” Suguru asks, and you raise your eyebrow as you look at him. You tilt your head to the side, and he furrows his brows as he looks back at you. He clears his throat before he repeats himself, “The salt?”

“For a dessert?” You question and he nods in response. He chuckles, rolling his eyes as he looks for the salt that you’re not passing to him. He flicks your forehead when he passes by you, and when he walks back, he kisses the same spot. You disapprovingly shake your head, “Just seems weird.”

“If the recipe calls for it.” Suguru responds. He isn’t paying much attention to measurements, which might be a mistake. You’re looking for the chocolate chips that are very much needed for the recipe to be successful. Your problem is that it’s in a top shelf, the one that only Satoru can reach for.

You get on your tip-toes, trying your best to get it but it’s too far up and too far back. You jump but you can’t grasp it. You don’t want to bother Suguru, and you’ll avoid getting a chair from the dining room to get on top of it. It seems like getting a chair is your only option right now, and when you’re about to go to the dining room, a hand reaches for the bag of chocolate chips. You feel his lips on your cheek before Satoru asks, “What’d you need these for?”

“You’re home early.” You tell Satoru, turning around to kiss him. He grins after you kiss him, and he hands you the bag. You walk to Suguru with the bag and you hand it to him. Satoru walks to your side, hugging Suguru from behind before kissing his cheek.

“What are you two doing?” Satoru questions, although it’s clear what you’re doing. He hums before speaking again, “Are you trying to bake something?”

“Just for you.” Suguru answers, and he grabs a spoon to let Satoru taste the cookie dough. Satoru takes it and brings it up to his lips. When Satoru tastes it, he spits it out and begins to cough. You and Suguru look back at each other, wondering what could’ve possibly gone wrong. Until it hits you.

“I told you it didn’t need salt!” You raise your voice and Suguru points to the recipe book. Satoru is running to get a glass of water.

“The recipe calls for it!” Suguru claims, and you glare at him as he watches Satoru chug a glass of water. You look at the recipe book to double check, and indeed, the recipe does call for salt. But not a lot.

“How much did you put in?” You ask, turning to look at Suguru, and he shrugs. He didn’t really measure. You wrap your arms around him and peck his lips before telling him, “I’m sorry for doubting you, baby.”

“Why the hell are you comforting him? He nearly killed me?” Satoru asks as he gets another glass of water.

“If anything it’s your fault! It was for you.” Suguru defends himself, and you giggle. You then walk over to Satoru to comfort him as well.

It’s fair to say that neither you nor Suguru will try to bake once again; Satoru isn’t letting you try again either.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #geto suguru #suguru geto #jujutsu kaisen geto #getou suguru #getou #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo saturo #satoru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #jjk suguru #sat

354 notes · View notes

r0semint · 1 year

Text

hey! let’s talk about teru’s relationship with food!

all three of us get the feeling that food is a love language for teru, or at least, we feel like it’s important to consider how food plays a role in his story arc when doing a character study of him.

okay so first off, right from his introduction he is a foil to mob.

[ID: four manga panels featuring teru getting ready for school. from right to left: the first panel shows his hand and a pan frying an egg. the second is his hand holding a remote. the third shows a tv of a meteorologist saying: “today’s weather.” The forth panel is teru pulling on his school blazer, watching the tv. the meteorologist continues: “a lot of sunshine through the country, though the air is a bit unstable. /END ID]

when teru first appears, we as an audience don’t know it yet, but he lives alone and has been living alone without his parents for several years. here he is cooking his own breakfast and getting himself ready in his apartment by himself.

[ID: five manga panels of mob being woken up for school. from right to left: the first panels is a shot of the roof of the kageyama house. the second is mob, asleep on his futon. his mom is talking from off screen. she says: “shige, get up! you’re gonna be late!” the third is mob yawning and stretching his arms about his head. the forth panel is ritsu opening the door to mob’s room. he says “bro. mom said breakfast is ready.” the fifth panel shows ritsu looking at mob. mob is putting on a pair of pants saying: “yeah ritsu. let’s go.” /END ID]

meanwhile mob, is woken up by his mom and is checked on by his brother to make sure he was up in order to get a breakfast that was more than likely made by their parents.

when mob plans on confessing to tsubomi, teru brings up how homemade things tend to make him feel happy when someone confesses to him.

[ID: manga panel of teru being offered a gift from a girl. it reads: “I tend to be on the receiving end of confessions, but…when someone gives me a handkerchief, or a letter, or homemade cookies or something, it makes me kinda happy, so…I was just thinking, there’s that kind of thing too.” /END ID]

also we see teru tend to overindulge when someone (reigen) is offering to buy food for him

[ID: panel from yakiniku omake. teru is ordering food. he says: I’ll have have 4 orders of top ribs, 2 orders of sakura yukhoe, 2 orders of choice salty beef tongue, the extra special zabuton-cut beef, the offal sampler, 3 orders of rice, a tomato salad, and the naengmyeon…and a green tea.” /END ID]

[ID: cropped screencap of official art. teru has finished two ice cream parfaits. the empty glasses sit in front of a third one, which he is using telekinesis to float the toppings near his face. /END ID]

this often played for laughs, but stick with us here…

in the fanbook teru is asked if he cooks for himself and he says yes, and mentions that he’s confident in his pasta making skills.

[ID: cropped screencap from the fanbook that reads: “Q1: do you make your own food? What are you good at cooking?” Teru answers: “I cook lots of different kinds of things! but what I’m confident in is my pasta.” /END ID]

at first this may seem like a very 14 year old answer…I mean, pasta is fairly easy to make. But knowing teru and how he tends to become and expert at the skills he learns, odds are pasta started off as something simple to throw together on a school night. Pasta is easy and convenient and kid friendly, but it is very easy to experiment with and eventually become a speciality.

and one thing we know about teru is that he has too many specialities to list.

this kid has been needing to make his own food 100% on his own since the start of middle school. we can infer he’s getting money from his parents, and we aren’t exactly sure how much or how he spends it regarding food, but the only time we seem him eating alone, he is making a meal for himself outside of something premade or takeout. he said it himself, he makes lots of different kinds of things! he knows how to cook!

but with all things teru something simple and silly comes with tragedy. while it’s nice fore a kid his age to know how to cook, he NEEDS to know because he doesn’t live with his parents. if he didn’t know how to cook he would be relying on others, and that’s just not what teru does. He is fully capable and learns for himself out of necessity. teru is responsible for all of his own meals.

so what happens when he is no longer responsible? it could be an issue with humbleness. it could also be just normal 14 year old boy hunger, but when reigen takes him out to eat there’s no limits. but here’s the thing…when’s the last time teru has had a home-cooked meal that was made for him by someone else? not from a restaurant, but someone making something for him?

this is why we have the omurice scene in backdraft. there’s a comfort in the domesticity of having food prepared for him in a familial setting that he has not realized he has been missing from his life.

we’ve focused on the fear of him getting cut off from his parents and how money scarcity turns into food scarcity. he’s always been in survival mood, it’s just that money was the breaking point for him.

going back to mob. he and his family are normally seen sitting at the dinner table together. a normal domestic setting.

[ID: screencap of the kageyama family eating omurice together]

something teru doesn’t have. he eats alone at a table in his apartment…one with multiple chairs around it.

[ID: screencap of teru in his apartment. In the background, he is getting ready, looking in a full length mirror. next to him is a tv showing the weather. in the foreground is a table with an empty plate, mug and saucer, and a basket with a single roll. two chairs are seen at the table. /END ID]

teru has not invited anyone into his apartment until mob got attacked by koyama.

who are those chairs for teru?

of course, in backdraft we have the restaurant scene that mirrors this. empty chairs for absent parents.

BUT ITS NOT ALL SAD

back to food being a love language and specialty to teru…imagine once he’s no longer in survival mode due to trauma. food as a comfort, not only receiving, but making it for others as well. tying into him wanting to be a teacher, sharing his skills with others…the fact it feels good creating and sharing something. no longer taking care of himself out of necessity, but learning what his skills and hobbies are and genuinely sharing them because they make him feel accomplished and happy! it just ties everything together with this dude.

in short, cooking is more than likely another speciality teru has developed due to needing to live on his own. since mp100 has themes that involve human connection and relationships with others, we feel food is something that brings people together and our boy teru here should experience that firsthand.

that is why it plays a big role in what we have so far in backdraft!

#we talked about this in DMs for a bit but I (rose) felt like it should be shared!#mp100 #hanazawa teruki #teruki hanazawa #mp100 meta #mp100 backdraft #long post

218 notes · View notes

brandogenius · 2 months

Note

Christmas?? Last Christmas I made cookies that looked like the boys! maybe reader and phoebe make cookies of each other and the boys, and they take a a photo and post it like a family photo! Maybe readers cookie is like an angel lol -💛

omg!! i love that so much that sounds like so much fun! i’m actually making gingerbread men tomorrow so i wanna make the boys 😭 if i succeed i’ll show y’all!

this is so cute i wanna cry 😭 i love it!!

(edit: i had two requests actually of baking with phoebe so i mashed them the two fics i wrote together 😭)

‼��RPF‼️

ONE SHOT - phoebe x reader - christmas cookies

Word count: 761

“i think this one is perfect as her” phoebe held up a gingerbread. it was the smallest out of the batch you both made.

“for julien?” you looked up at phoebe. she grinned over at you. eyes twinkling with the bright light above. it was the middle of December at 5pm on a friday evening. the sun has already set. snow was falling outside. the small snowman both of you made was staring directly at you from beside the wall. lopsided smile made from stones. carrot slowly falling off its face as snow accumulated around it. you glanced back at phoebe who was piping black icing into a bag.

“it’d be funny! i think she’d like it”

“i think she’ll threaten to hit you with it” you teased, working on lucy’s hair. “how many did you do so far?”

“four” phoebe gestures to the decorated gingerbread men on the rack by the oven. “i wanna make one of you” she pulled her sleeves up, wiping away some leftover flour from her face. you shook your head, grabbing the small towel and wiping away the icing from phoebes nose. “thank you for helping me with these today, baby”

“i’m glad you trust me enough to measure ingredients” phoebe chuckled. “these turned out perfect. i thought it was going to flop.” she held up the finished julien cookie, excitedly showing you.

“not when i’m here. i’m the baking expert here. you want some more hot chocolate?” you moved past phoebe, taking out some of the instant hot chocolate making kit, your mom gifted you and phoebe early for christmas

phoebe nodded her head. humming softly to the christmas music playing from your phone. the kitchen was a mess. baking utensils littered the counter top. trays of gingerbread men, decorated to represent phoebe julien and lucy sat neatly on a baking tray. the smell of cinnamon, ginger and chocolate wafted through the air.

wrapping paper was spread out all over the kitchen table. gifts stacked one on top of the other with cards splattered around. it was a mess but the familiar nostalgia filled your chest. a warm christmas that’s what it was.

it reminds you of when you were a child. playing with your dolls in the living room by the christmas tree while your parents wrapped the gifts and your grandparents baked cookies. it was a sweet feeling. you were in that spot now. wrapping gifts for friends and family members.

phoebe made sure to make it very clear what wrapping paper belonged to what gift. “that doll set for your baby cousin? it goes with the pink wrapping paper- sit it on top so we don’t forget. your parents get this nice champagne gold coloured wrapping paper- lucy might like that rich blue one. we’re giving julien the kids one because she’s a child-“ “you’re stressing out too much about this, my love”

“honey?” you shook out of your thoughts, smiling over at phoebe who held up one of the cookies. “i made you!”

“did you?” you walked back over to phoebe, leaning your head on her shoulder, wrapping your arms around her waist. she was warm. she relaxed in your hold, giggling to herself. “i look different than the rest”

“i kinda fucked it up a bit”

“i can tell”

phoebe pouted as you chuckled, kissing her cheek. “it reminds me of an angle though. if you squint you can see the wings” phoebe squinted her eyes before a small grin appears on her face.

“it does- pfft” she smiled, turning around so her back was pressed against the counter. “- that’s what i was going for. that was the plan.” “really?” you teased, your hands finding their place on her hips. she leaned in to place a small kiss to your lips. “of course”

“why don’t we start cleaning up? we need to get started on wrapping the gifts” you broke away, grabbing the towel and turned on the sink, washing your hands under the tap.

“i’ll start wrapping. you can write the cards” phoebe wiped her hands with the towel, walking over to the table.

“on it. what are we doing this year? from reader and phoebe? from the two gays?” you questioned, making your way to the table, looking at the card before writing a small merry christmas message.

“from the wives.” phoebe looked up grinning. you looked at the small ring on your hand as you chuckled.

“yeah that sounds good. merry christmas and happy holidays. from the wives”

“it sounds very gay. i like it”

#pom writes #anons #yellow heart anon the slayest #phoebe bridgers x reader #phoebe bridgers au #phoebe bridgers angst #phoebe bridgers blurb #phoebe bridgers headcanons #phoebe bridgers fluff #phoebe bridgers one shot #phoebe bridgers fanfic #boygenius x reader #boygenius fanfic #boygenius au #boygenius one shot #boygenius blurb #boygenius headcanons #boygenius angst #boygenius fluff

39 notes · View notes

revisitingfandoms · 4 months

Note

(breaks down door) sup bitch guess what I got! A fic for you!!! It’s a continuation after the last one!

——————————————————————————————————

She… feels better. Even if it’s just a tinsy bit, spilling out their past like that, what she’s been through makes them feel a little better. Of course there are things she hasn’t addressed / admitted yet… like your crushes on not only shadow milk but now apparently golden butter… which is just great. Or even your insecurities about yourself, but those are later problems. Besides they don’t want to drop that on them especially after yesterday, you can tell that their moods have shifted dramatically.

But hey! At least you can be awake for more than 2 hours now, does that mean your bored? Most definitely! But at least both Mystic flour and Shadow milk stay in her room, the others visit but they seem busy with stuff…. She doesn’t want to think about! (Coward seems to echo through her mind but she ignores it, their an expert in denial). Mystic flour is always by their bedside, their silent most of the time but she’s a comforting presence. And hey she gives you snacks so… but theirs also Shadow milk! He’s usually at the desk researching,… researching a way to help them. You feel a bit bad about the whole thing, you won’t voice that thought though.

The chatter between the two finally registers in your head, it seems you were spacing out.

“… hey um. What are you two talking about? Sorry I wasn’t fully listening.” Arcane egg says sheepishly

“I mean else would we be talking about, we’re discussing on how to cure you of course!” Shadow milk says in an intense tone, he both seems impatient to find an answer. But also very, very tired. He should rest you think.

“I think they mean the specifics on what we’re discussing, and the answer to that is… how do we get information from Fortune cookie.” Mystic flour clarified

Ooh yeah… that dilemma “oh… how has that been going”

Shadow milk scowls in frustration “ Not well, NOT WELL AT ALL!”

“Keep your voice down! Arcane egg might’ve gotten a bit better but their nowhere near fully recovered” Mystic flour scolds

“…what happened to that speaking to the dead idea? Finally realize it was a terrible idea?” You speak off handedly… ooh they don’t seem to like that. Oh no.

Both seem to just stare disapprovingly at the comment before Shadow milk speaks “ your self demeaning comment aside, don’t do that! No I have tried to contact fortune cookies soul but it hasn’t worked no matter what I've tried, it never works!” he basically growls.

“Are you sure you're doing it correctly? Do you have all the necessary tools, materials?” Mystic questions

“Yes I’ve done everything right! I’m not an ameture Mystic flour!” The two continue to bicker slightly among themselves.

But you start thinking… maybe you should have a look at his research. Both out of boredom but also the want to help your clearly distressed friend. You may have given up on yourself but that doesn’t mean you’ll give up on them. “… do you mind? If I um have a look” you ask softly

“Sure why not, you’ve been bored haven’t you.” He then walks over to his desk and collects a variety of papers, he then returns to your side gives them to you. “Here you go Sunny, let’s see if you can make sense of this.” He than ruffles your hair… it’s comforting.

The two continue to talk, but you aren’t paying much attention. You begin to scan the notes, their as professional as always. No matter how much of a clown Shadow milk is, he’s always been so smart (unlike you… you push the thought back). For the most part the research seems correct, you can’t find a reason it would work… wait what’s that?

“…what are witches' chains?” You ask.

“From what little that I’ve found they were apparently given to a cookie, a cookie who prayed for the strength to help stop us. And apparently those prayers were answered, I know this because before we were fully sealed chains trapped us.” He seems very annoyed by that fact “why? I don’t think it has anything to do with why my spell won’t work?”

“Curious I suppose, any physical description of the object?”

“Sure here, don’t think it’ll mean much of anything but… I can take what I get Sunny” he gives you a document describing the “witches chains”

…ok so their silver chains, duh. They have intricate patterning of the moon and stars on them. Ok. They held immense power, so much in fact it could be used to temporarily match that of soul jams, interesting, the aura of which is described like the soft streams of moonlight on a calm night…. Wait, you've felt that before. You’ve seen these chains before… but on who, where.

You start to parse through your recent memories, your recent adventures…. It was in the city of wizards! Gingerbrave and their friends were busy trying to find Moonlight cookie! You were trying to help them but you felt a draw, to a place that not only felt like moonlight but… it felt like home! And so you excused yourself and found a cookie! And they felt so, so familiar. Wait… the document said it changed your appearance when you use the chains… and that much power can keep a cookie going for years… centuries even.

Wait!! Wait omg, the timeline matches! And that cookie, Mirror moon cookie is that why…! “!!!!” You jump up suddenly with a sudden burst of energy. Much to the surprise of Shadow and Mystic. Your about to speak but you loose your balance since you haven’t used your legs in a while…

*THUNK*

… good job dumbass you think. Because your face is now planted on the floor. You just ate shit in front of your friends, how embarrassing.

“Oh my god! Are you okay!” Shadow milk almost yells in worry. Both help you up and back onto the bed “what happened, did you figure something out-“

“I think Fortune cookie is alive!” The look flabbergasted but before they can speak you continue “I think thats why the spell didn’t work! Its because she isn’t dead!”

Shadow milk is stunned into silence so Mystic flour is the one to speak “…why do you think that?” She questioned

And so you begin to explain your theory, about the info on the witches chains, about the mysterious cookie you met. With each word Shadow milk cookie begins to brighten up, it warms your heart. Even Mystic flour seems impressed on your findings!

After your done explaining and out of breath from your sudden energy disappearing, Shadow milk cookie scoops you up into a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Is all he repeats, you look over and Mystic flour gives you a soft smile.

…you don’t know what’s gonna happen next… but this, whatever this is…. Makes you feel warm… maybe theirs hope after all? You don’t really believe it, but a part of you is hopeful. No matter how small.

Well… you’ll guess you’ll see.

——————————————————————————————————

what chu think? I hope you enjoy! I also must say you do such a good job on writing for shadow milk cookie when he’s being sincere. That’s how I imagine him around loved ones!

have a good one! Can’t wait to see more!

;dk;lwand;kpankdawd;aml;d

Op you- amazing.

Just- yes.

#shadow milk cookie #cookie run kingdom #cookie run x reader #cookie run oc #mystic flour cookie #Arcane Egg Cookie #Mirror Moon Cookie #My heart-#Thats his apprentice! Shes alive!#just- yes

25 notes · View notes

quibbs126 · 5 months

Text

Random character idea because I’ve discovered Rock You Like a Hurricane and it’s night so I’m hopped up on the vibes

But basically it’s an “Ancient” that’s a musician (specifically rock) and has their Soul Jam on their guitar, and so basically their music is infused with Soul Jam energy, so it’s like an actual weapon

I put Ancient in quotations because I imagine this Cookie isn’t actually “ancient”, they’re probably like in their 20s, they only fall under the definition because they have a Soul Jam. Unless they are immortal and are just having a Lestat moment where they discovered rock and decided they’re gonna do rock music now

I’ve briefly toyed with the idea that the Soul Jam they use isn’t just some random other Soul Jam that exists, but instead White Lily’s, since I don’t know, I feel like the Light of Freedom is something that might fit with the rock genre? I mean not exactly, but it’s about self expression and rebelling against social norms right? Something similar? I’m not an expert on rock, don’t quote me on that. But I just feel like it’d fit. And I think it’d be interesting, having White Lily’s Soul Jam being taken up by someone who isn’t anything like her, and isn’t like some great warrior, someone that might be befitting of using an Ancient’s Soul Jam, but despite this connects with the Soul Jam extremely well, showing how to very different people can still embody the same trait, just in different ways, and by the end is considered worthy of it. Though it probably wouldn’t work because that’s a very plot relevant item, and so you’d have to keep this character around, when they really don’t fit in with the story at all. Maybe it’d work if the story took place after the Dark Enchantress storyline, and the Soul Jams aren’t as important to the story

Also realistically, we probably don’t need another rock musician. We already have Rockstar, as well as Black Lemonade, and we’ve already had our rock themed update in Kingdom with the Summer Soda Rock Festa, so having another one after that is probably redundant. But screw it, I like rock, and I’m hopped up on a rock song so I’m not thinking entirely straight

The idea’s been in my head for the past hour, I just wanted to talk about it

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #character idea #rock music #random stuff

10 notes · View notes

dmwrites · 2 years

Text

“Joe, we need money.”

Joe, who had been trying to relax in a corner, watched Cleo rummage through their chests with a tired look.

“Cleo, this is my house. My things. You need diamonds, not me. I only need the company of my friends and a couple of good forms of media. Diamonds have little to no use to me.”

Cleo sighed. “Well, Joe, some of us want to be material girls and buy pretty things.”

“And you’d be a fool to ever mistake me as an ATM.” Joe replied. “Why don’t you just go ask some other hermits.” They leaned back against the wall, closing their eyes. “Go rob them or something, I don’t know.”

“Are you assuming that because I often speak violently and will fight if provoked, that I would steal?” Cleo, offended, put a hand to her chest as if she was stabbed. She considered her words for a moment. “Well, hold on now, you actually might be on to something for once. Thanks Joe!” Cleo ran off.

“No problem. Be gay and do crimes or whatever the kids say these days.” Joe said, falling asleep right after that.

The way to get what you want is to dress appropriately for the occasion, a lesson Cleo had learned from Scar. So she dressed in a no-nonsense suit, and held a clipboard. She was ready to get her diamonds, in the best possible way she could think of.

Cleo kicked in the front door of GigaPies. “What’s up, motherfuckers? I’m CleOSHA, and I’m here to do an inspection on your asses.”

Ren and Cub jumped up from the pie bar, startled.

“Oh, my, Cleo, I mean, I think my behind would get an excellent rating, but you’re clearly the expert here, girl!” Ren turned around and bent over.

“Ren! No! For goodness sakes, I mean I’m here to inspect your working conditions, your food! I’m OSHA! CleOSHA!” Cleo blocked Ren’s booty with her clipboard.

“Oh.” Ren sounded kind of disappointed. “Wait, inspecting this place? This pie place was dreamed up by my grandma on the back of a cocktail napkin- there’s nothing wrong with it!”

“What exactly would you be inspecting?” Cub asked, crossing his arms.

“Oh, you know, stuff like kitchen cleanliness, working conditions for the employees, checking for gas leaks… the usual.” Cleo had no idea what she was talking about, and really hoped they didn’t know either.

“Oh.” Ren sounded nervous now. “Well, there isn’t a single problem here, I can assure you. But, let’s assume there was… something. What would happen? Hypothetically.”

“I’d shut down your pie place, that’s what I’d do.” Cleo scribbled importantly on her paper- she wasn’t actually writing anything though.

“Oh, right, naturally.” Ren sounded very nervous now. “Well, there’s nothing wrong here, not a single thing! And you know this, because, well…” Ren coughed and slid half a stack of diamond blocks onto Cleo’s clipboard.

Cleo blinked at the shiny squares, then smirked. “Oh yes, I see now. This place is safe and spotless. Have a nice day, you two.” She pocketed the diamonds.

“Sure think, Cleo baby! Come back any time when you’re off the clock! And hey! I bet those filthy elves could use a little looksee.” Ren called to her.

Cleo smiled evilly. She hasn’t thought of that. She had just been content to take her diamonds and leave.

“Thanks for the heads up.”

The door to the elven cookie factory was, unfortunately, already open, so Cleo just strolled in.

“Hey Cleo.” Cub looked up from his computer at the front desk.

“Hey Cub. I- wait a second, weren’t you just-” Cleo looked back at GigaPies, then at Cub.

“Don’t think about it.” Cub cut her off.

“…Okay then. Uh, Cub, I’m here for-”

“Wait, it funnier when you’re cursing and full of badass girlboss scammer energy. Let me get Scar so he can witness this.” Cub trotted off to the back room, and she heard him talking to a cartoonishly loud man. Said man came rolling out, a huge smile firmly hoisted onto his face.

“ZombieCleo, my undead friend. That suit is quite striking on you, I must say. Now, what can I do for you?”

“I’m fucking CleOSHA, and I’m here to inspect your cookie factory for health and safety violations.” Cleo said, holding her clipboard tight.

“Oh, why of course!” Scar said airily. “Please, let me give you a tour!”

The place was awful. There were melted puddles of chocolate all over the floor, bugs on the cooking cookies, worker elves vanishing or turning into zombies right in front of their eyes. Scar showed all of this and more, smiling and oblivious all the way. Cleo made a mental note to never buy one of Scar’s cookies.

They ended the tour back in the main room, where Cub was still working on his computer.

“So, CleOSHA, how did I do?” Scar smoothed his robes in a self-congratulatory way.

“You fail inspection.” Cleo said.

The pleasant businessman’s smile dropped from Scar’s face at once.

“Would it pass if I was to offer you, say, a stack of diamond blocks?” Scar sounded a lot less friendly all of a sudden. Cleo cackled internally.

“Oh, I see. That does certainly change things… I think that would work wonderfully, thanks.” Cleo held out her hand, and Scar counted out sixty-four cold blocks of diamonds right into her palm. “Great doing business with you, Scar.”

“You as well, Cleo. Come back for a free Elven Surprise cookie any time you’d like.” Scar and Cub waved her off. Cleo made a note to never eat any food offered by any of the food vendors ever again, and strolled back to her place with her pockets heavy with diamonds.

#CleOSHA taken from a s8 stream I was watching of them #June 14 2022 #fic #hermitcraft #s9 #zombiecleo #long post

362 notes · View notes

sleepingdeath-light · 1 year

Text

lotus dragon smut hcs ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (25/04/23)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; lotus dragon cookie

outline ; “Hihi!! Im not sure if I’m able to just Say my age but just to clarify I am 19^^ but anyways,, lotus dragon nsfw hcs if u haven’t already</3”

warning(s) ; exhibitionism, intoxication/drugging, sharing/orgies

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

lotus dragon is more of a lazy lover — preferring to take things slow and prioritising the aesthetic of sex and arousal over the act itself at times

they’re very into decorative bondage and enjoy tying you up with rich silks and rope and just admiring you

in a similar vein enjoys showing you off to others during intimacy — like they’ll be pleasuring you and have all of their closest followers watch

on occasion they have been known to let the most loyal of their subjects join in and start touching you (which has led to a number of orgies)

they cover you in jewels and the finest of fabrics — though what clothing you’re given tends to be both intricately patterned and very minimal

their favourite pieces to see on you are: a set of lacy lingerie in their colours, a tiny thong with lots of jewellery covering your chest, and a silk robe (also in their colours) that hangs off of your shoulder and barely comes half way down your thighs

they’re also a big fan of intoxicated sexual intimacy and are incredibly attentive when you’re high — but they also tend to take advantage of the skewed power dynamic whenever you’re in such a compromising state

loves giving and receiving oral equally and has been known to encourage you to go down on them during meetings with the other dragons or even their citizens or visitors

is an expert at keeping you on the edge of release for as long as they need — or, conversely, keeping you in a state of perpetual overstimulation until they tire of it

free use would definitely be a thing in your relationship — skewed in their favour, of course — which would inevitably lead to things like somnophilia and public sex

mutual masturbation will be frequent as they love watching you pleasure yourself for them and want to reciprocate it

they’re a very selfish lover and take what they need or want from you irrespective of what you wish — but they will stop if you call the safe word or are being physically harmed by their actions in the moment

praise and dirty talk are one and the same for them and their skill at it is so proficient that they’ve been able to make people climax from their words alone

isn’t as big on physical marking as their fellow dragons, but they will brand you with their symbol just above your sex — more out of habit than anything else

tends to call you ‘my flower’ or ‘my pet’ or other such semi-demeaning, possessive names in bed

if you are particularly soft or larger bodied, then they’ll take a lot of enjoyment out of finding positions that show off your curves and swells the most (likewise for the clothing they buy)

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #minors dni #smut #cookie run x reader #minors fuck off #cookie run smut #cro smut #cro x reader #lotus dragon cookie x reader #lotus dragon cookie smut

47 notes · View notes

galadoesart · 1 year

Text

Preferences | Detriot: Become Human

Character/s: Connor RK800, Hank Anderson (and Sumo), Markus RK200, Carl Manfred, mentions of Jericho and Leo Manfred. Summary: After Markus won from his peaceful demonstration everything seemed so right in place and since you live far away from your hometown, you decided to celebrate New Year’s Eve with Connor RK800 (with Hank and Sumo of course) / Markus RK200 ( with Carl, the people of Jericho and maybe with Leo? I don’t know, he’s a jackass though.)

Pairing/s: Connor RK800 x F! Reader / Markus RK200 x F! Reader (established relationship)

Warning/s: None except this whole headcanon is like fluff, and wholesome!

A/N: My first headcanon for my boys (Connor and Markus), I decided to watch jacksepticeye’s D:BH playthrough, and well… I love them both so much. Happy New Year by the way! Feedbacks / coffee are very much appreciated, love you guys!

~~~

Connor RK800 + Hank Anderson and Sumo

Ever since his post-deviancy, you have been there for him. To support his new found feelings, almost babysat a child - but of course a full grown, man. Hank didn’t mind though since you are practically his daughter so when you offered to help Connor, he was glad.

You celebrated Christmas Eve with them, though you were sad that you weren’t able to celebrate Christmas with your parents, relatives, and favorite cousin since you’re far from where you’re actual hometown is, they understand.

Connor knows how family-oriented you are (or maybe not, which both him and Hank truly understand your reason, besides they are your family now.)

When you told him that you’ll be celebrating New Year with them, he was so glad, the way his eyes sparkled with delight, that he got time to spend with you more, Hank and Sumo. “How about your parents?” “Oh, I’m sure they’ll understand” You almost forgot that you’re an adult so basically you can do whatever you guys want.

Of course, you can’t forget about the fireworks, but Hank is the one who’s an expert on this so you let the boys buy what kind of fireworks you’ll be using for the new year.

Since Connor is not programmed in household work, he feels bad that he had to leave you in cooking/baking/cleaning with Sumo while he and Hank go firework shopping.

You assure Connor that household chores were completely okay with you, it’s like your stress reliever and help for the both of them since they are like family to you.

Waving goodbye to them, you started feeding Sumo first, cleaning the house, tidying up the rooms, you took a quick water-food break and a nap - and then after you woke up from Sumo licking your hand, you decided to get started cooking.

One dish from your hometown and one dish that surely Hank will love, ‘ugh how I wish Connor can eat too, I’m sure he’ll love these’ You thought to yourself and sighed, after preparing the dishes for tonight you started to make red velvet cookies. After everything is settled, you decided to take a nap on the couch while Sumo sleeps with you.

Hours later, you heard a ruckus - Sumo shifted and you stirred awake “Hey darling” someone scoffed after that greeting ‘Obviously the one who scoffed is Hank’ you laugh and greeted Connor giving him a kiss on his cheek “Are you guys able to buy fireworks for later?” “Mhm,” When Connor sits beside you, he was taken aback when you sit on his lap and nuzzle your face to his neck - fast asleep.

When Hank was about to say anything for (Y/N) or Connor, he motioned that you’re fast asleep again - Hank just nods and eats some of the dishes you cooked, savoring each bite while you and Connor are on the couch, resting.

It’s been an hour since you’ve fallen asleep, you didn’t notice that you were in the shared bed with Connor when Hank barged in with a trumpet that he blew making you stir in sleep “Happy New Year kid!” You sit up, adjusting your vision and greet Hank a happy new year, it was very uncharacteristic of him to be this joyful but hey - let the old man be happy.

When Hank came out of the bedroom saying that he’ll be preparing things that are needed for the fireworks, he also greeted Connor who was leaning in the doorframe. “Hey hot-stuff” you pat the free space on the bed and he happily obliged “I will always never get used to calling you, me random nicknames” He laughed, ‘god his laugh is so - genuine’ you thought to yourself “ah well, it’s just that…” you paused while he waits “gosh I am so happy that you’re with me - Hank and Sumo…” “I’m happy that you’re here too, (Y/N)” as you snuggle up close to him, he kissed your forehead.

Hank, on the other hand he knocks on the bedroom door saying thanks to (Y/N) that made him feel that Cole is here again - “I’m sure your son will be proud of you, Hank.” before even Hank cry in tears of joy he just agreed with you, “come on love birds we should start to light up those fireworks.” You and Connor walk hand in hand, grateful that you have each other backs despite of what the year has been rough for everyone else.

~~~

Markus RK200 + Jericho and Carl Manfred (mentions of Leo, maybe?)

When Markus became deviant, you were there to witness the whole scene - and you who became fond with the android himself you helped him out. “You gotta leave now before they kill you!” Carl said to him as you both go to your cozy apartment. That was the first time you saw him afraid, anxious - hoping that Leo didn’t die from the impact, you assured him that everything will be okay.

As much as he wants to contact Carl about the situation of his son, Leo, you stopped him. Knowing that the police are hunting them and he agreed. “Since deviants are spreading - maybe when this issue subside we’ll be able to contact Carl again.” Markus sigh, “We should probably find a hideout, anytime soon a police might barge it, I don’t want you to be in danger (Y/N).”

Jericho - the hideout place that he found, by talking to damaged android that he found he met Simon and his other companions. North, however she’s still suspicious about you - knowing that you work with the Cyberlife but that doesn’t stop the others to grow fondly of you.

After Markus and his people won because of his peaceful demonstration, he feel relieved more than ever. Although it wasn’t avoidable that some human continue to despite human-android relationship, or android having the rights to do what they want – that can’t be helped. He was also glad that you were his right-hand man.

You celebrated Christmas with Markus, visited Carl - who’s surprisingly doing better (he had a new android to help him out around the house after that incident) but nonetheless he’s proud of Markus and his freedom march. “Hey Markus, can I have a moment with Carl?” he nods and left you with him. “I know it’s been a while but I have something in mind…” You paused, while Carl raised an eyebrow at you. “I was thinking of having a party here to your mansion - like at New Years Eve? If that’s okay with you uncle.” He was delighted - and even help you out to call some event organizers to help you out without raising any suspicion to Markus.

When you bid goodbye to your uncle Carl both of you made sure that everything will go according to plan - days go by and Markus doesn’t really raise any suspicion about visiting Carl though he keep insisting that he should come for your safety (rest easy is not on his vocabulary apparently..) “Come on, (Y/N). I want to visit Carl too - I’ll cook you your favorite!” “Fiiineeee.” You playfully punch his arm - how can you resist this man? He’s literally a house-husband material!

After you told Markus that he should wait at your car - you grab a gift for the hero, Markus himself. Putting it inside your bag that you planned on giving him to the party. “I’ll drive.” “What? No-” he give you ‘the look’ that you can’t just - resist, ‘gosh, he’s so charismatic-’ rolling your eyes you put your bag at the backseat of your car, Markus noticed that. Obviously. “I hope you’re not scanning that bag, babe.” Markus raised his hands in defeat and he let out a chuckle “You have my words babe, I won’t.” and of course he kept his words, while he proceed to start the engine - drive to Carl’s mansion talking about what happened for the past few months.

Arriving at Carl’s mansion, you grab your bag - while Markus as a nice gentleman as he is, well he open the door of your car for you. Muttering ‘thank you, babe’ he smiled sweetly. He never failed to make you swoon, ever. “Welcome back, Markus and Miss (Y/N)” an android who greeted them as soon as they enter Carl’s mansion when you’re about to go straight to the living room Markus stopped you “wait, I thought you’re going to visit Carl?” You blinked, thinking of a lie your heartbeat became erratic. It’s funny because it’s not like you did something wrong but - “Your heartbeat quickens, are you hiding something from me?” “What? No! I- I was going to grab some water- like I’m thirsty… right-” “Hm… alright, I meet you upstairs then.” “R-right!”

You quickly went to your way to the living room, where supposedly the people of Jericho and Carl himself is there. “Okay okay, is everybody complete now? Woah this is making me cry I- gosh-” Carl reassures you that this will go well, he hope (it’s not that he doesn’t want to see Leo interfere but you know that guy, unpredictable as hell.) “(Y/N)? Carl isn’t upstai-” before Markus can even finish his sentence, everyone included you said ‘Surprise!’ in unison. He was, obviously in shocked - in fact he looks like he was about to cry.

Markus walked towards you, feeling like the time had stopped - he hold your hands and gently squeezed it. “You did all of these?” He looked around the spacious living room, decorated but not over-decorated, some of his people are here especially his friends: North, Josh, Simon, Lucy and John. “Well, I asked my uncle for help - and then your friends helped me too so, it’s not only me.” You smiled sheepishly at him - “oh wait, here’s my gift for you too - it was Carl’s idea by the way.” He happily accept the gift, tearing up the gift wrapping - it was a huge box, with clothes, although you know his style, Carl was able to choose some clothes that will really suit him. I tell you - the man is speechless.

After the year changed, it was a sure great start for everyone else, he hoped that the other humans will be enlighten that the androids did not want any harm at all, but rather freedom, peace and understanding that they are more than just any machine.

#connor rk800 #markus rk200 #headcanon #detriot become human #jacksepticeye #x reader #bryan dechart #jesse williams #jericho #detriot #reblog this post if you enjoy reading #fanfiction #detriot become human fanfiction #writing #connor rk800 x female reader #markus rk200 x female reader #happy new year #im still alive #i missed writing

48 notes · View notes

hqmillioncorn · 1 month

Text

Greet the dawn with me!

"UM okay so me, pancake and cinnamon were having dinner when babycorn knocked on the door to our room?? Hey hair was down by the way . She asked if she and cherrypit could sleep in our room for tonight? I said yes faster than i could feel nervous about it. Babycorn told me thanks and told me she would be right back with cherry and airy. Then i turned around and pancake and cinnamon were both giving me thumbs ups. Pancake went to go get some of the expensive extra snacks out so we could eat them . and i am now very nervous waiting for babycorn to come back im hiding under the covers writing in my diary."

Lalapril 4/28 with @windupnamazu's Butter, Pancake and Cinnamon

babycorn cant sleep and decides to go out for a nice walk :) then to visit someone! its a busy night

Tomorrow was the day.

The day she was going to meet with Hildibrand once again. Because of course he needed her help! And of course she was going to help him! She would do anything for him cause Hildibrand was so cool and smart and amaaaaazing!

Then one day soon Hildibrand would finally propose to her and they would get married and live happily ever after! Forever and ever!

…Or at least that’s what Babycorn used to dream of happening.

After the whole ‘Mandervillian’ thing she was having a few second thoughts about the whole thing. On the day they all learned about it, Babycorn was frozen to her chair for about an hour or two. Then she was frozen staring out of a window.

Some of it might had been because of the concussion she received earlier but most of it was the shock of the whole thing.

It sort of opened her eyes about her feelings. Did she really want to marry Hildibrand? Something about learning he was a terrifying alien had caused her feelings to immediately stagnate. Not that Babycorn was an expert in love or anything but it just didn’t feel right.

She knew what falling in love felt like. Right?

This whole conundrum was weighing on Babycorn’s mind just enough to keep her awake at night. Staring up at the ceiling wasn’t doing anything to help her either. Though it was fun occasionally seeing Cherrypit run back and forth, screaming his head off about something.

No matter what was bothering her, at least she could be happy that Cherrypit was safe. It was far nicer to be worried about issues of love than not knowing if her brother was going to be okay.

“Get back here little man!” A very angry Airy flew by with paint drawn all over her face. It seemed like a certain someone decided to a napping Airy’s face as a free canvas to practice his artistic skills on. “I’m going to make you pay for what you’ve done!!” For Airy, making someone pay usually meant trying her hardest to hit you.

Sadly her little cookie fairy fists could only hit someone so hard. Which is to say, not hard at all.

Babycorn watched as Cherrypit and Airy went back and forth, over and over. Despite that she had told them earlier it was bedtime and they needed to get some sleep for tomorrow they were still very much awake. Old habits die hard, she supposed.

As noisy as they were, Babycorn was glad for it. She had spent far too many quiet nights by herself by now.

Babycorn sighed, turning over in her bed again for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

This time Cherrypit noticed the long sigh his sister had made. “Bebe?” He jumped right over a flabbergasted Airy by bouncing off her head. A handy trick he learned the last time they had helped Hildibrand out. “OW?!” Airy, hunched over, looked back to see Cherrypit crawling onto Babycorn’s bed as he lightly began to pat her shoulder to get her attention.

“Bebe! Bebe!” Cherrypit laid his head down on Babycorn’s arm. “Bebe okay?”

Babycorn couldn’t help but laugh a little. She sat up and grabbed Cherrypit in a hug. “I’m fine! Don’t worry! Just having a little bit of trouble getting to sleep.”

“Sleep? How you gonna sleep?” Cherrypit asked. He reached a claw over to one of the bed’s pillows and started to chew on it.

“I wish I knew.”

At this point Airy had enough of being ignored. She flew her marker-covered face over to where both siblings were sitting and flew above them. “So you can’t sleep hmm…” A little bit of her magic dust was falling on both siblings. Sadly for Babycorn the dust had no instant sleeping properties to them.

Though it did make Cherrypit do a cute little sneeze. Babycorn grabbed part of her blanket and wiped Cherrypit’s nose with it.

“What if I hit you over the head with a really big stick?!” Airy asked while mimicking the movement of her hitting Babycorn over the head with something. It looked like she was enjoying the hypothetical act of doing that a little too much.

Babycorn grabbed Cherrypit and scooted away from where Airy was floating. “No thank you!!” One concussion a year was good enough for her. That being said, her record was currently ten a year but that still didn’t mean she would let Airy attack her with a huge stick.

“Well that’s all I got.” Airy shrugged and flew off somewhere to presumably clean her face.

Which left Babycorn and Cherrypit by themselves to figure things out.

Babycorn watched as her brother babbled a bunch of baby talk to himself. Something about how he was gonna bite a big piece of bread tomorrow? It sounded yummy. Babycorn wondered if there was bread for him to share with her.

While Cherrypit talked away into the night, she turned her head to see if she could see outside the window.

It was dark out and a small part of her was expecting the face of a ghost to press itself up against the window. It just felt like her luck was bad enough for something like that to happen.

“Brr…” Babycorn shivered.

Cherrypit grabbed the blanket Babycorn used before and threw it on Babycorn. “No more cold!” He assured her. Babycorn moved the blanket to where it was just covering her head. “Thanks Cherry!” Not that she was actually cold but it was still nice.

Cherrypit smiled back at her and crawled right off the bed. The toys he was playing with before on the floor had caught his eye again. From the looks of it he wasn’t going to be tired anytime soon. Which left Babycorn with more time to see if she could somehow force herself to sleep.

Then, Babycorn’s attention fell to the door.

As soon as it did she bounced off the bed, put on her pair of slippers and adjusted her pajamas. At the same time Airy happened to reappear, now with a much cleaner face free of swirls and stars. “What are you doing now?” She was still wiping her face dry with a towel.

Babycorn walked closer to the door and opened it. “I’m going outside for a little bit!”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Airy asked, “Won’t it be bad if you and Cherry get separated or something?”

Babycorn shook her head. “Nah. That doesn’t happen anymore! Rember’?” While it wasn’t entirely true that there weren’t any side effects to getting too far away from Cherrypit, it was true that Cherrypit didn’t drop dead and take over her body anymore. Thankfully. “Besides–I’m not going anywhere too far! Just getting some air!”

Airy couldn't help but wonder if that phrase was something that Babycorn heard someone say once. That would make sense, she just knew that if Babycorn hadn’t she would think it meant flying off or whatever. “Don’t you at least wanna take Cherry with you?”

Babycorn looked down at her brother. He was still busy playing with his toys. Re-enacting what looked like a pretty dramatic scenario featuring two people slap fighting on top of a giant cannon. “It’s okay! Besides, it looks like he’s having fun playing.” She would hate to interrupt whatever story he was telling. “I’ll be back really soon I promise!”

Airy knew that if Tilika were here she would probably try her hardest to convince Babycorn not to go roaming outside in Radz-at-Han by herself. Tilika practically drilled it in all of their head's that Babycorn needed to be accompanied by someone at all times while they stayed here.

Which Airy thought was ridiculous but agreeing got Tilika to shut up so she just said Sure.

It wasn’t often that the perfect opportunity presented itself. What better way to start a reign of evil than breaking a few rules? Cause that was totally what Airy was still after! Uh-huh! Yup! Yup! “Alright! Take all the time you need!” Airy cheerfully sang, waving her goodbye.

It caught Babycorn a little off guard. “O-Okay!” Babycorn opened the door and stepped outside. “Keep Airy safe! Okay Cherry?”

Cherrypit gave her a little salute as Babycorn closed the door behind her and walked away.

It was a little cold outside.

Or at least colder than Babycorn had expected. As she climbed up the steps of Paksa's path she looked up at the sky above her. It was pretty cloudy. Looking at the clouds moving made her feel kind of dizzy.

Eventually she made it to the top. The dodos that were usually running around were gone, probably sleeping in their really comfy dodo beds. Which was a shame. Babycorn had really wanted to wave hello. “Goodnight…!” Babycorn whispered in the direction she hoped the dodos would be. With any luck they heard her and wished her a goodnight too, even though she couldn’t hear them either.

It was a little quiet. Which was nice, but it made Babycorn sort of curious.

Normally it was rare for her to have a chance to walk around her without at least one person beside her. Usually that person was Tilika and she always made sure they never spent more time outside than they needed to.

Now here she was–walking around Radz-at-Han at night all by herself.

At first Babycorn didn’t mind it, since it was always nice to have someone around. But lately, she was starting to get a little worried. Was there something she didn’t know? Of course there was. Babycorn hadn’t wanted to ever think about it but every time she visited there was always a feeling in the back of her mind that there was something missing.

Something that she should know, but just didn’t.

Babycorn sat down on the grass, taking a fistful of it and sticking it in her mouth. As she chewed she stared straight ahead and tried to reach towards the part in her memories that she could feel was cut off. But no matter how close she thought she was to reaching what she thought she was missing, she always came up short.

…That was weird. Usually by now Babycorn would be having some sort of piercing headachOh there it was!! Right on time!!

Babycorn gripped the sides of her head and held in a cry of discomfort. Fearing that if anyone heard her out here they would tattle on her and she would get in big trouble.

Then just like that. It was all gone.

Babycorn looked around, there were no people around. She looked down, her cozy pajama pants were stained green alongside her hands. There was a big patch of dirt where she had taken her midnight snack from. The grass needed more salt.

None of this was helping her feel any sleepier than before. It just created more worrying thoughts in her head! What was she worried about? Why couldn't her head just decide?!

Babycorn stumbled to her feet. She was still a little out of it. The missing parts of her memories were busy trying to fill themselves out. In her stupor Babycorn’s instincts managed to take over, as her body decided to run towards the direction of someone she knew could help with her with whatever problem she had.

Then before she knew it, she was already knocking on their door.

The thought she was knocking on the wrong person’s door never even crossed her mind. It should be noted that Babycorn was not very smart.

It should also be noted that this was not the first time something like this had happened.

Somewhere in Radz-at-Han Butter, Pancake and Cinnamon were busy having their own interesting night.

Pancake and Cinnamon were very busy testing out the local cuisine by ordering as many different drinks as they could and rating them on a scale of one to ten. As their entire budget was being covered they went ahead and ordered to their heart's content.

Surely Lunya Lanya herself would be very proud of them.

Butter, meanwhile, was busy writing in his diary.

In a way he was in the same boat as Babycorn. He was restless about tomorrow. So much so that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. On the other hand his reason was a bit different than why Babycorn couldn’t get herself to sleep.

He couldn’t help but think about what if tomorrow was the day Hildibrand finally opened his eyes and realized that Babycorn was in love with him. Then he would sweep Babycorn off her feet and they would ride off into the sunset.

Would Butter be happy for Babycorn? Yeah, of course.

And would Butter wish a thousand deaths upon Hildibrand at the same time? Well no duh.

The same sort of worries had spiraled around his head the last time they all went to help Hildibrand. His biggest fear was that if he didn’t tell Babycorn his true feelings before it was too late, then he would never get the chance to.

Butter groaned and let his head fall flat onto his diary. “I love Babycorn…” He mumbled to himself. With his face buried in his book however, it came out very muffled and no one could possibly understand what he had said.

No one, except maybe his dear sister. “Does that mean you’re finally gonna ask her out tomorrow?” Pancake chimed in.

Butter lifted his head up ever so slightly and gently pushed Pancake away.

Pancake crossed her arms and leaned herself against the wall. “Come on Butter! Time's-a-ticking and I’m not getting any younger!!”

“What does your age have to do with anything???”

“Everything! Cause I’m gonna die of old age before you tell Babycorn anything!!”

Before their conversation could continue, a knock at the door interrupted them. “I got it!!” Pancake yelled, running to get it. No one was exactly racing her to get it but the important thing is that she won either way. When Pancake opened the door she saw–nothing. “Huh?” Then she looked down and saw Babycorn! Her pants were stained green and she looked a little tired.

“Hi Pancake! Sorry if I woke you guys up! I was just wondering if I could ask about something?” Babycorn nervously smiled, rocking back and forth.

Pancake was going to answer in a completely normal way but stopped herself. She smirked, a plan brewing in her head. “Oh yeah no problem!” She turned back and cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “BUTTER!!! YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS AT THE DOOR!!!!!!!!!!”

She hummed to herself as she heard the telltale signs of Butter scrambling himself off the bed and running towards her. “I’ll let you two talk it out!” Pancake happily bounced herself off the door and back into the room just in time for Butter to reach her.

“Hey Butts!” Babycorn smiled. Like usual she didn’t notice the nervous smile on Butter’s face.

“H-Hey Babycorn!!” Butter honestly didn’t know where to start. A million thoughts were zipping around his head at once. It was probably better to clear up any misconceptions before anything. “D-Don’t listen to Pancake! I didn’t call you my girlfriend! I-I mean not that I wouldn’t want to-! I mean who said that?! I’m just-”

Thankfully for Butter, Babycorn interrupted him before he could say anything else that would turn his face even redder than it already was. “But I’m a girl!”

Butter looked at her, blinking just a little too fast. “Y-Yeah!”

“And I’m your friend…?” Babycorn’s eyes began to water. “R-Right…?!”

“Of course! Of course you are!!”

“Then I’m your girl friend!!”

Butter decided to give up. Not only because this type of talk had already happened countless times before but also because the way Babycorn was smiling at him was so cute he was feeling his knees turn to jelly in real time. “So? What did y-you wanna ask us?” Butter struggled to ask.

For a few seconds Butter regretted asking, because as soon as he did, Babycorn’s smile disappeared. “I was just wondering if…” She tapped her fingers together nervously, looking away. “Could me and Cherry and Airy sleep with you guys tonight? If it’s not a lot of trouble?”

“Yeah! It’s no trouble!” Butter immediately answered. Even Pancake and Cinnamon were caught off guard by how quickly he answered and they weren’t the only ones.

“Huh? Really?” Babycorn was a little surprised. She had planned out a whole explanation in her head and everything. It would be a waste not to explain herself, if only just a little bit. “It’s just…I’ve been having trouble sleeping and I just thought maybe it would be easier to sleep if I…” Babycorn trailed off.

“If you were?” Butter asked.

“...If I felt safe. You know?”

That’s not to say Babycorn didn’t feel safe around Cherrypit or Airy, but if anything happened to her she wanted to make sure someone else could protect them if she couldn’t. “I just feel safe when I’m around you Butts!” She smiled, holding her hands together.

Butter couldn’t blush any harder. “I-I’m glad-!” Because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you, he wanted to say. In the end, he ultimately just let Babycorn know she could come over anytime she wanted to. “We’ll be here all night! We’re not going anywhere!” He assured her.

“Great!” Babycorn turned and began her run back to her room but not before turning back one more time and shouting back, “Don’t worry I’ll bring all the blankets and pillows we need! And me and Cherry can sleep on the floor! Airy brings her own bed!” With that out of the way Babycorn ran off again.

Butter waved at her until she was out of view. A lovestruck smile on his face.

True to her word Babycorn had arrived with almost a mountain of blankets and pillows balanced on her head and some of them on Cherrypit’s head too. Airy was dragging a small doll bed behind her.

Judging from the scowl on her face she was much less happier about this arrangement than Babycorn and Cherrypit were.

Her attitude took a turn for the positive when it turned out that Cinnamon had some extra sweets to share with her sister as they gossiped all about Babycorn and Butter respectively.

Cinnamon had a lot of the usual to say but Airy had some new juicy gossip of her own…

Meanwhile both Starsinger siblings had easily inserted themselves into Pancake’s drink judgment bracket. There were plenty of smoothies to go around and even then she could just order some more from the allowance Tsuna gave her earlier. Butter had joined in too, deciding right off the bat that the first pineapple smoothie he tried was the best.

It had felt a lot like this had turned into an impromptu sleepover rather than a way to help Babycorn get to sleep.

Though as the night went on–the more tired everyone began to get.

Cherrypit was the first to fall asleep. Wrapped in Babycorn’s arms in the middle of a triple triad match between Babycorn and Butter. Which Butter ended up winning by default because Babycorn had ended up eating half of one of her cards by accident.

Next was Pancake, who swore up and down the room that she was only going to close her eyes for a minute or two as she got comfy on her bed. Even as she was talking Butter was shaking his head, knowing his sister much too well. He ended up being right. As soon as Pancake’s head hit the pillow she was out like a light.

That left just Babycorn and Butter awake. Alongside their fairy companions.

Both of them decided to go ahead and start setting up the numerous blankets that Babycorn brought with her. There were so many of them that piling them up was just as good as bringing a whole other bed into the room.

Or at least, to Babycorn it did. “Come on Cherry…” Babycorn whispered, gently picking her brother up and carrying him onto their makeshift bed.

After she covered him in a warm blanket she took a seat on the floor, letting out a sigh. She was more tired now, that was true, but there was still some worry left in her about tomorrow.

Babycorn looked over to see what Butter was doing. He had just finished checking up on Pancake and had gone over to his own bed. Weirdly enough Babycorn noticed him looking at her then he would look surprised and look away really fast. She poked her own nose. Did she have something on her face again?

Eventually Butter got off his bed and walked over to the window, a book in his hands. Butter took the book and slipped it under some extra pillows. He was really hoping no one would notice what he was doing. Especially not Babycorn.

“What are ya doing Butts?” Babycorn just happened to ask. She was standing up on her tippy-toes to see if she could get a better view of what he was doing.

In a panic, Butter was caught entirely off guard. “Just hiding my diary!” WHY DID I SAY THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Oh! Cool!” She had no idea what a diary was.

Butter hid his diary as fast as he could and rushed back as fast as he could. But before he could even get close enough to hide under the covers–Babycorn called out to him.

“Hey Butter? Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah!” Butter answered, turning to look at her. “What’s up?

Babycorn took a deep breath. She sat down on the floor, clutching a pillow tightly. “Do you think Hildibrand loves me?”

Butter froze. For a second he even stopped breathing completely. He turned around to look at Babycorn. His eyes met hers. It was like staring into a warm summer day, he couldn’t help but be drawn in. Butter walked up to Babycorn and knelt down in front of her. As much as he didn’t want to think about Hildibrand he knew there was only one answer to the question.

“I think…” Butter struggled to speak. “I think he would be crazy not to be in love with you.”

Babycorn was stunned. “Do you really think so?!”

“Y-Yeah!!” Butter smiled, gritting his teeth. “No. Doubt. About. It.”

“I see…” She noticed that Butter looked really happy to be telling her that. Of course he would be, he was like one of her bestie best friends. Just all her other friends! Because of that she didn’t have the heart to tell him how she really felt.

If Hildibrand proposed to her tomorrow, well, she had no idea how she was going to react.

“Hey Butts? You’re coming to help tomorrow right?”

As much as Butter wished that he didn’t have to go through another whole day or more of seeing Babycorn making googly eyes at Hildibrand, of course he was going to help. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything! Ahahaha…”

That was a relief! “I’m glad you’re coming with!” It just wouldn’t be as fun without Butter and everyone else around! As long as he was around then maybe Babycorn wouldn’t have to spend another four hours sitting on a chair scared out of her mind about aliens.

Why, oh why, was marriage and love just so complicated? She bemoaned.

Why couldn’t everything be as easy as eating worms from the wet ground?

As dawn broke through, Cinnamon and Airy giggled quietly to themselves.

Airy poked her head out from behind a fort of blankets they had created to hide themselves behind just in case anyone woke up and interrupted their secret plan. “I literally can’t believe this.” A part of her wanted to just fly in and kick them awake but Cinnamon managed to convince her to hold back the violence. Using nothing but a delicious cookie,

The (self-proclaimed) more artistic of the sisters was furiously drawing as fast as she could. “Have they moved at all yet?” Cinnamon cried out.

“Nope. Still the same as last BAJILLION times you asked.”

“Okay! Good!” Cinnamon continued to draw as fast as she could. “Just a little bit more…!” As soon as she was finished with it she would go ahead and place it inside of Butter’s diary, right on the newest page so it could be the first thing he would see when he opened it back up.

She had to be quick, because any second now either Babycorn or Butter would wake up and ruin her reference. It was hard for her to draw any faster. Small as she was, drawing for her meant almost carrying a pencil across a page.

But it would all be worth it when she finished.

Cinnamon needed Butter to know that they had fallen asleep sitting next to each other. Babycorn resting her head on his shoulder and holding their hands together.

A smile on their faces.

#lalapril #lalapril 2024 #Babycorn #Cherrypit #Airy #Butter #Pancake #Cinnamon #buttercorn #phew #this was the last one i wrote for this year and its the one that made me the most nervous #anyway i think babycorn keeps these feelings all the way to dawntrail hildibrand quests #she doesnt get to hear theyre not actual aliens and nobody tells her opps #babycorns scared of aliens but shes got some dragon in her and shes gonna find that out next expansion probably and stare out a window agai #anyway i love buttercorn i hate them #i love using butters diary as future writing prompts i ll probably do it again

2 notes · View notes