#had a raspberry lemon one earlier & it slapped
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the first time someone offered me kombucha i was skeptical of fermented tea but like. i get it now. fizzy friend
#had a raspberry lemon one earlier & it slapped#this has been beverages with illogical thank you for your time#for context like ive very much had kombucha before today this is not a new discovery for me just in case this post made it seem that way#but i happened to think about it just now so yeah#kombucha my beloved#illogical rambles
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LOG 3202:21;01
The vast city was lit up with various hues of blue with yellow and purple accents. Lemon squinted trying to see all the different lights in the sky. In a way, the city felt like back home, only more technologically focused. He felt weird sticking out like a sore thumb. His armor may be gray, but it was still bulky compared to the suits that the majority of NeoAzullians were wearing. Not only that, but most NeoAzullians didn’t have warm-colored hair like his. The exception was Raspberry Iced Tea with their red hair which originally didn’t come to cross his mind. It was a bit random, but he did wonder why Tea had red hair instead of the normal cool colors of the planet. Eh, it wasn’t a big enough deal for him to ponder it. People are what they are.
He turned his attention away from his internal thoughts to see civilians out in the streets. A lot of them were doing… just normal “human” things. They were living, surviving, and even trying to make ends meet. For a planet far away in the galaxy, they acted just like cookies. This place that Aloe was from… It wasn’t all that different from Earth.
He remembered something from earlier. Something, something, an energy crisis, he heard from overhearing murmurs and rumors. From the eye, it didn’t look like there was a crisis, but nothing is as it seems. From seeing people trying to live their daily lives, that should be enough proof for him. If he and Cyborg were supposed to be Aloe’s solution to Bluestar’s energy crisis, he knew that was only a short-term solution, and Aloe would not deliberately go out of their way to use him and Cyborg as batteries. At least, he knew that Aloe wouldn’t use Cyborg as a living battery. It wouldn’t make sense for that to happen to him or Cyborg after the bonding session Aloe had. It would be a waste of time to get somewhat close to someone and throw it all away.
There he went again, being lost in his own thoughts. It was hard for him not to do that after the war and Aloe trying to quote-on-quote “fix” society’s problems. He never considered himself a thinker, but being lost in his thoughts was starting to become a problem.
“Okay… Keep it together…” The Android slapped his face.
Lemon glanced around for a bit more before receiving a signal. It was a familiar one.
“Come to the palace. His majesty wishes to speak to you privately.”
“Privately? What the hell does that entail…” Lemon thought to himself as he changed course.
Before he lept into action, he caught a glimpse of a NeoAzul with green hair. He attempted to get a closer look, but a group of civilians walked by and obscured his vision. The figure was gone afterwards.
Lemon would soon arrive at the palace. The place was much more extravagant on the inside than outside. Even more so than Princess's castle. The interior was lit up with royal blues and different hues of yellow lights. The floors and walls sparkled as if they had never been touched before. Lemon was escorted by some guards as he walked up to the entrance, but he was slightly disappointed that Aloe wasn't there to guide him personally. Thankfully, there were no signs of Tea anywhere near. Tea was probably preparing for their big day soon.
“Ah? Lemon? Are you finally here?” A voice echoed from across the hall. It was accompanied by footsteps soon after.
Lemon recognized the voice from before. It was Starflower, the royal from the crowning ceremony. The King shooed away the guards and put his hands together excitedly.
“Lemon… V.Al-- Aloe has told me so much about you…!” Starflower was practically jumping from the encounter. “Please, walk with me. I have several things I would like to say. I promise I have only good intentions.”
“A weird thing to say, but alright.” Lemon remarked, raising his eyebrow.
Starflower led Lemon down into a large corridor with stained glass windows. There were images displayed of the different royals throughout the centuries. At the end, there were two missing spots, presumably for Tea and Knight.
“These are… not the circumstances I'd like to meet you in…” Starflower started, folding his arms together, “The truth is, I will not be of this world much longer…”
The smile he initially started with faded.
“My gift is that I am able to see into the future. Which unfortunately means that I can see when my expiration date happens… like how you have electricity powers,” Starflower stopped walking and looked up at a stained glass window that looked like him, “I really did not want to tell V.Aloe… They would make a great big deal out of it…”
“So, why are you telling me?” Lemon raised his eyebrow, “We aren't exactly ‘close.’”
“A friend of a friend is my friend too. V.Al- Augh- Aloe feels more at home on Earth than they do here. Sorry… Earth customs when it comes to names feel disrespectful to me-”
“It's alright. Don’t worry about it.” The android put his hand out to pat Starflower on the back, but quickly pulled his hand away. He made a face, knowing that he was copying what Aloe did to him earlier.
Starflower chuckled to himself, noticing Lemon's expression which made Lemon get slightly embarrassed. The android huffed and looked away from Starflower trying to make himself look more composed.
“Need not to hide yourself… I could tell from the minute I laid my eyes upon you, that you are the perfect partner for them. V.Aloe has told me so much about you in the brief time that we were in contact… They think fondly of you, you know? Despite all the… past quarrels.” Starflower put his hands in his pockets and sighed, “If only I could say the same for Y.Tea and Z.Mocha…”
So that's why Starflower was tense earlier. It was starting to make sense to Lemon.
Starflower continued, “I never wanted to invade your planet, Lemon. I don't want to cause trouble, however, Y.Tea and Z.Clematis have their own interests. One more than the other. I'm afraid I can't help you anymore, or else that would be treason. The people don't respect me as much as they do Y.Tea.” The king took his hands out of his pockets and started to twiddle his thumbs, “As I mentioned before, I am going to die very soon. I don't want V.Aloe to know, or else they would be devastated. I want you to protect them and I want you to protect your home planet.”
His expression turned serious.
“There is going to be another war. Not with cookies and robots, but cookies, cyborgs, and robots fighting together to defend from extraterrestrial life. When you get back home, you need to prepare immediately.”
One of Starflower's assistants knocked on the door to the corridor. He jumped in surprise.
“Oh dear… I'm sorry I rambled for so long, but I need to do my kingly duties. Please feel free to use one of the guest rooms at your leisure,” Starflower rushed to the door, straightening his back and putting his arms to his side. He dismissed Lemon after giving one last reassuring nod to the android. The door shut, leaving behind a long echo.
Lemon was alone again. He was left to contemplate the conversation that Starflower had with him. As he stared up at the glass again, his words simmered in his brain. “Another war, huh…” He didn't want to believe it, but if Starflower was telling the truth, he had best find a way off this planet soon.
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Season 3 Episode 6: Queen of Puddings
I started watching GBBO at least four years ago, and yet I still do not know what a pudding technically is. Sometimes it seems to just be a catchall term for “dessert”. This VOX article claims that “A British pudding is a dish, savory or sweet, that's cooked by being boiled or steamed in something: a dish, a piece of cloth, or even animal intestine,” which is confusing, because I don’t think I did any of that for this week’s bake. (There were certainly no animal intestines involved.) But whatever a pudding is, this week I made the Queen of Puddings, at least as defined by Mary Berry.
https://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/queen_of_puddings_79904
Step one was to grease a ¼ liter shallow ovenproof dish, which I do not have. Off to a great start! In my defense, there is only so much room for baking equipment in my apartment’s kitchen. I dug this dish up from my parents’ house and went with it because it was oval-shaped, like Mary’s example photo, but it definitely doesn’t qualify as “shallow”.
Good enough.
Next up was to make a custard. First, I heated up milk, butter, lemon zest, and sugar in a sauce pan.
Does this count as “boiling or steaming” something?
Then, I carefully poured my warm egg mixture into a bowl with my egg yolks, which I had already separated from the whites. I whisked it together, and a custard was born.
Custard!
To make this custard more substantial, it is poured over a base of bread crumbs. Mary’s recipe specifies “fresh” bread crumbs, but I did not have a bunch of semi-stale bread lying around, so pre-packaged bread crumbs it is.
I told myself after my last bake that I’d stick to the recipe moving forward. Clearly that lesson did not sink in.
Crumbs + custard
I put my dish into a roasting tin, filled the tin with water, and stuck the whole thing in the oven.
At least my dish fits in the tin.
While my custard baked, I turned my attention to the next element of my bake: jam. Mary’s recipe suggests that you can use store-bought jam if you don’t want to make your own, but I have never made jam before and figured it was one of those things that was bound to come up sooner or later. Plus, I knew the bakers would have to do it, and I wanted to stay in the spirit of the competition. So I gave it a shot.
I used a mixture of raspberries, strawberries, and blackberries, since that’s what I had on hand in my freezer, but it seems any “summer fruit” will do.
I had some trouble getting my frozen berries to fully reduce into a cohesive sauce, and after what felt like ages of cooking time, my jam still seemed a bit watery with big chunks of fruit.
I guess this also counts as “boiling something”…
I decided to run my jam through a strainer, which didn’t help my watery-ness issue one bit, but I managed to mash the bigger pieces of fruit against the strainer to make them more sauce-like, and reincorporated it into the strained juice to produce something that could pass for jam, albeit a very runny one.
It’s a pretty color, at least.
Meanwhile, it was time to pull my custard out of the oven. I think I overcooked it slightly, but I had trouble getting the custard to set as much as I felt it should.
I baked the custard for about 35 minutes, instead of the 20-30 specified by the recipe.
While my custard cooled, it was time to make meringue. Luckily, I had some egg whites just sitting around that I had to separate from their yolks for the custard earlier. It’s always nice when a recipe doesn’t waste ingredients. Those egg whites and a bit of sugar quickly became meringue.
Thanks, KitchenAid stand mixer!
Finally, it was time to assemble. First, I put my jam on top of my custard. I vastly overestimated how solid the custard was and dumped a whole bunch of jam right on top, which caused it to mix in a bit with the custard. I quickly realized that it was better to gently spoon the jam on top of the custard.
Hopefully didn’t mess up the layers TOO much.
Next, it was time for meringue. I piped little poofs all over the top of the dish.
I’m actually very proud of my piping on this one.
And with that, the whole thing was ready to go back in the oven to brown the meringue. Not too difficult, all said and done. But would the bakers agree?
Sarah-Jane isn’t feeling too confident heading into the technical, as per usual. “You just have to kind of draw on everything you know about… everything… ever… in the space of five minutes,” she says.
I think Sarah-Jane might be my spirit animal.
Ryan has somehow never made custard or jam before, which leads me to question his GBBO preparation techniques.
Even I’ve made custard before!
Mary explains that the Queen of Puddings is many families’ favorite pudding, which I guess presumes that said families eat a variety of puddings on a regular enough basis to choose a favorite.
I’m really hung up on this whole “pudding” thing, I know.
As the bakers prepare their custards, Mel explains that they shouldn’t bake their custards too long or the surface will crack. I’m now thinking back to my own custard, which definitely had some cracks in the top. Whoops!
I mean it will be covered in jam and meringue… no one will know.
Next, it’s time to move on to the jam, and Brendan seems to be some kind of jam savant, explaining that he’s looking for a soft-set jam. After all, he says, “There are some advantages to being older… you learn the setting point of jam.”
Showoff.
Like me, John has some problems with the jam running into his custard, although his are much worse.
“Mary’s going to slap me in the face,” he moans.
The bakers seem intimidated by the meringue layer, which I find confusing. Meringue just… isn’t that hard?
Here, Danny whips up a second meringue, worried that her first one was too runny.
Finally, all the puddings are in the oven.
Classic GBBO on-the-floor oven-watching pose.
Brendan seems to have gotten a nice golden brown color on the top of his meringue. Will this be the key to a technical challenge win?
Like a perfectly roasted marshmallow.
During the judging, Mary announces that the glass dishes they gave the bakers were part of her evil plan, so she and Paul can see how even the layers are on the puddings.
Feeling grateful for my ceramic dish right about now…
Unfortunately, James has overcooked his custard, which means it came out watery.
Would I fall victim to the same pitfall?
In the end, Brendan’s lifetime of jam knowledge proves useful, and he takes home the win.
It does look like a rather royal pudding.
My pudding was ready to come out of the oven, but would it be fit for a queen? First, here’s Mary’s example pudding…
That’s a very elegant shallow dish.
And here’s mine.
Look at that piping!
The slice admittedly didn’t look too delicious, but there’s a reason Mary’s photo only includes the dish – I just don’t think this one is meant to look pretty on the plate. The show also didn’t really showcase what the bakers’ slices/scoops of pudding looked like. So I’m pretty sure mine is about right. Also, Mary’s recipe said to serve with “pouring cream”, so that’s what the puddle is around the pudding, not melted custard. (The bakers did not seem to do that in the show).
I thought my Queen of Puddings was pretty regal, actually. The meringue had good volume and was nicely crispy, and the jam and custard layers actually held up on the plate. But now it was time to see if my esteemed panel of judges would agree.
***
Matt’s Review: I was actually full from dinner when I dug into this pudding, and I was worried it was going to be too heavy. But as soon as I took my first bite and felt how soft and airy it was, I quickly ate the whole thing. Turned out, that’s a purely mouth-feel thing and I got a horrible stomach ache. But it was worth it. It’s a bread mush with surprisingly complicated flavors—sweetness was potentially the least pronounced one there. The fluffy texture (which I have to assume Jenna nailed) really let you focus on those flavors. It’s a balancing act, and the pudding landed it gracefully. I have no way to fairly judge presentation, but I will add that there’s nothing better than having a Tupperware full of pudding arrive at your door.
Wilson’s Review: Beautiful presentation, clearly defined merengue structure. Some nice peaks, clearly have a steady hand with the piping. But, the color’s a bit light isn’t it? In the future maybe keep it in the oven for a touch longer, or up the heat. Cutting it open you’ve got some nice defined layers, well done. Flavor is good, you can really taste the summer in the jam. The lemon isn’t really coming through, and that’s a key element to balance the sweetness of the jam and the crisp of the meringue – need that acidity. Overall a very good bake, worthy of being served on anyone’s summer table.
***
Final Thoughts: As Matt mentioned, the pudding was delivered to him in the least royal of ways, dumped unceremoniously in a Tupperware and left on his doorstep. So sadly he didn’t get to witness the beauty of my pudding in its original form, and personally, I thought it looked great. I also enjoyed eating it – the meringue was crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, and the custard was smooth and creamy. The jam was definitely a little runnier than a store-bought variety, but I did like it enough to use the leftovers on toast for several breakfasts, so it worked out well enough. And to Wilson’s point, it needed a little more browning on the top of the meringue – perhaps I should have used the broiler at the very end to get that nice golden color. Overall, this was not a particularly tough bake, which was a nice change of pace after trying to get pie dough to defy gravity for the last bake. I still don’t know what a pudding is, but I did enjoy eating it.
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5, 14, 15, 21, 28, 34, 48, 52, 64, 70, 84, 93
5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?
i don't really drink a lot of soda, lol, but i basically don't mind one way or another when it comes to other beverages.
14. favorite non-chocolate candy?
either sour patch kids or cherry twizzlers (the kind you peel)
15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?
idk if it counts bc it's a play and i also read it in college and i assume this ask means high school or earlier but rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead. very good no one else in my class liked it but ig everyone at my school just has terrible taste then. funnily enough i couldn't stand a single actual shakespeare play i had to read oof.
21. obsession from childhood?
in what category and from what age. okay actually look at every interest i have now, and remove the ones that came out after 2014. that. that's my childhood obsession. like, furbys. webkinz. teen titans. scooby doo. monsters. stuffed animals.
i used to film like. everything on a shitty little camcorder and then edit like. Vlogs. back when i was eight ahah.
28. five songs to describe you?
*opens up my richie tozier playlist* okay gimme a sec
okay but actually i've thought about this so here's a much longer answer then you want:
a) i know like. intellectually that soft fuzzy man by lemon demon is a satire about like. bRoOdInG men who are actually just assholes but the description of the titular 'soft fuzzy man' is. in fact. my gender. i'm a trick of the light to love you tonight.
b) idk if the next few describe me or like really specific moments of my life but as much as it slaps if you're too shy (let me know) by the 1975 is a song that low key gives me actual anxiety bc. been there. that second verse socked me in the face and stole all my money.
c) not to be an ~indie sad girl~ on main but townie by mitski okay that's all. another song where the second verse and just the second verse came for my throat and left no survivors.
d) i'm going to be white and a tiktok user again but prom dress by mxmtoon is another one that's like. okay besties who wanted to die after prom gang rise up?
e) there's something happening by jack stauber is also gender.
34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?
not an accurate answer to the question bc i don't perceive advertisements but just remembered when i read this that one commercial from when i was a kid for geico w the money w eyes. that's it i'm gonna have somebody's watching me stuck in my head now that's for sure.
48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?
a raspberry or cherry. something small red and tart.
52. favorite font?
roboto or courier/courier new! very basic ik but i literally used roboto in like. every typography project i had to do in college. also an unironic comic sans fan fight me but it's not my favorite i just wanted to publicly humiliate myself. look it's cute it's just overused and misused.
64. favorite website from your childhood?
well webkinz obvs but also! the g3 mlp site had some baller games i think about all the time. also a site i can't remember the name of but it was like a fashion game where you designed all the clothes but they were like. photos of real clothes that you put stamps on and then you could create a boutique to show them off and buy/sell clothes from other boutiques. every boutique had a logo that you designed yourself and mine was a little devil skull w a crown and i was so proud of that. there were other makeover mini games but it shut down when i was in middle school and i cried over it.
70. left or right handed?
exclusively right handed my left hand is tragically inept. my mom's left handed tho but you didn't ask that.
84. podcasts or talk radio?
neither i've never listened to a podcast or the radio in my life. i watched the sweet boys podcast for a while but got bored of it but i physically can't pay attention to audio w/o visuals. i've considered listening to jack and erin's podcast just bc i love them but i think it might also kill me.
93. nicknames?
no i hate them. when i was in high school my friends and i had this elaborate inside joke where we all had code names but they were like our alter egos and sometimes one of my friends would call me by my code name like randomly in conversation and it made me want to strangle her every time. fuck nicknames all my homies hate nicknames.
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Fic: eyes on me (2.2k)
Pairing: Tanjirou/Inosuke
Tags: Kissing, Protectiveness, Pining, Red Light District Arc
Summary: Tanjirou and Inosuke take go for a walk around the Red Light District, but Tanjirou isn't the only who ends up watching Inosuke
Notes: Anon’s request: “for the drabble prompts, maybe something with tanjirou struggling to cope with inosuke's look during the red light district arc?"
*
"Let's go for a stroll, Inosuke," Tanjirou had said, without any trace of hesitation or doubt—in fact, he had been confident when the idea first came to him.
It only made sense: with both of them still looking for Uzui's wives, getting a better notion of their surroundings and a better picture of the situation they were in could give them an extra push into discovering more about their whereabouts. They had tried to bring Zenitsu along, but the blonde had been muttering the whole time about being the best oiran (was that even possible?) and hadn't even listened to them, so Tanjirou thought it was best to let him cool down for now.
For the moment, it was only the two of them roaming around the Red Light District with the excuse of running an errand. The sun had yet to set completely, the orange rays peeking over the horizon to reflect on them; even then, there was already a significant crowd walking about, some talking loudly already affected by alcohol, regardless of how early it was.
The amount of people seemed to distract Inosuke, who kept lagging behind as gathering groups appeared in front of him. Not used to dealing with crowds, Inosuke had a hard time walking through them (at least not without being too aggressive about it, which Tanjirou had vehemently told him not to do). After the fourth time of this happening, Tanjirou tugged a spooked looking Inosuke away by his sleeve from yet another group of passersby.
"We need to stay close so we don't get separated," Tanjirou said to Inosuke. "I'd rather not draw too much attention to us."
Inosuke nodded, but just as he did, a drunk man walked past them in the opposite direction, and though Inosuke tried to sidestep him, the man still walked straight into his shoulder and stumbled away unperturbed by the collision. Inosuke himself lost his footing for a moment, but recovered easily enough. He attempted to whirl back, no doubt to pick a fight with the drunk man, but Tanjirou gave his kimono another tug to keep him from doing anything stupid.
When he turned an angry scowl towards Tanjirou, he pressed his index finger to his lips with an imploring look, and the shout that Inosuke was about to let out turned into a low growl in the back of his throat as he grinded his teeth together instead.
"I hate crowds," Inosuke spat out. "What do they think they're doing, going around and hitting people like a bunch of idiots?"
Inosuke stepped behind him, and seeing as he wasn't about to charge at random people, Tanjirou let him go, only for Inosuke to put both hands his around Tanjirou's bicep.
"I know, but just bear with it for now, okay?" Tanjirou said, though not unkindly. "It shouldn't take too long, I think."
Inosuke played with the fabric of Tanjirou's kimono between his thumbs but nodded, and Tanjirou smiled at his fidgeting.
"What are we even looking for?" Inosuke asked.
"Anything, I suppose." Tanjirou discreetly watched the houses and the people they saw, keeping an eye on anything that looked in any way suspicious. "It'd be better if we had Zenitsu here, so he could hear for any conversations that would tell us something important. Maybe I should've tried harder to convince him…"
Inosuke snorted. "Good luck making him listen to you," he said mockingly. "We'll just find out ourselves."
"Yeah, you have a point. At least you're here with me, Inosuke."
A small proud smile appeared at the corners of Inosuke's face, though he looked to the side so Tanjirou wouldn't see it. Tanjirou bit down on his lips to avoid letting out a giggle at the sight, sure that Inosuke wouldn't appreciate the laugh.
Tanjirou tried not to think of how pink Inosuke's lips looked with whatever they applied to it earlier, just in case the fluttering in his chest got any worse.
"J-Just tell me if you sense something that might be important, okay?" Tanjirou instructed, silently wincing at his own stutter.
"Yeah, sure."
They continued on in silence, though Tanjirou's thoughts were anything but. He kept tilting his head to the side, glancing at Inosuke from the corner of his eye, only to find him deep in concentration, brows furrowed and bottom lip between his teeth in a way that couldn't be anything other than charming.
Tanjirou snapped his head forward, resolutely staring straight ahead. This was in no way the time to be distracted, no matter how long Inosuke's eyelashes were, or how even more delicate his cheeks looked with the layer of powder on them. He was afraid he might actually start sounding like Zenitsu, and that was a scary thought.
He was just thinking about Inosuke's eyes when the person in question stopped in his tracks, forcing Tanjirou to do the same.
"What are you—"
Inosuke stepped closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "There's someone watching us."
"What?" Tanjirou's instinct was to whip his head back to take a look, but he stopped himself at the last moment, remembering that he couldn't let whoever it was know they noticed the attention. He stayed in place, with Inosuke pressed close to his back.
"Behind us," Inosuke said. "I don't know what direction, because of these goddamn itchy clothes…"
"Right, okay." Tanjirou thought for a moment, face brightening up as an idea came to him. "Okay, here's what we'll do: I'm going to hug you—"
"Huh?!" Inosuke yelled, getting a few heads to turn in their direction. Tanjirou frantically shushed him.
"Listen, considering the kind of place we're in, that'll be less suspicious than just stand around awkwardly. If I hug you, I can look over your shoulder without alerting who's watching us."
"Fine, then hurry it up!"
Permission given, Tanjirou turned and hugged Inosuke to his chest, keeping his eyes half open as to not look too obvious.
"Do you see them?" Inosuke asked in a fervent whisper.
"Not yet, give me a moment," Tanjirou replied in the same tone.
His eyes roamed the thickening crowd, and after a minute of careful watching, it was easy to spot their watcher—or watchers, plural. Three men sat side by side on the porch of one of the tea houses, a bottle of sake between them, though their eyes weren't on the bottle, or even on their cups either. Instead, their gazes were on Inosuke's back; not as someone who watched a threat, and more like someone judging a piece of meat. They evaluated the entirety of Inosuke's body, looking like they never got tired of it, as they did it again, even if there wasn't much to look at from that angle.
And yet, their eyes wouldn't leave Inosuke, and they laughed loudly as one of them whispered something to the others. Tanjirou couldn't tell if he felt better or worse that he couldn't hear them this distance.
Of course, this kind of attitude was to be expected in a place like this, but it didn't fail to make Tanjirou's skin crawl. And then, when they finally noticed Tanjirou staring at them, they winked at him and whistled. Tanjirou held Inosuke tighter, like it was enough to keep him away from men like that.
"Oi, what's wrong? Did you find them?" Inosuke's asked, tugging at the back of Tanjirou's kimono.
"Nothing's wrong," Tanjirou said stiffly.
"Your heart is beating like crazy though."
Tanjirou snapped back, putting some distance between them—enough so their chests wouldn't be touching. Tanjirou opened his mouth to reassure Inosuke that they weren't in any sort of danger, but as he glanced back to the three men, he met eyes with one of them, who smirked and made an obscene gesture to the two of them.
Tanjirou balled his hand into a fist, while the other clasped Inosuke's to quite abruptly pull him away in a not-quite-run out of there. The rough treatment wasn't exempt from complaints, but at least Inosuke followed after him despite slapping his back incessantly in an attempt to get an answer out of Tanjirou.
He only stopped when they were at a section barely inhabited at this time of the day, and except for a few passing servants, it was only the two of them there. Inosuke was fully scowling at him now.
"The hell is wrong with you? If it's an enemy then I'm going back to beat them up," Inosuke said, not hesitating to walk in the opposite direction to do just that.
Thankfully, Tanjirou was still holding his hand and he refused to let go, pulling Inosuke back with great effort.
"It's fine, it's nothing like that, so calm down!"
Inosuke pointed an accusing finger at him. "You're the one who needs to calm down first, then!"
"Me?"
"Yeah!" Inosuke jabbed a finger at the wrinkles in Tanjirou's forehead. "You look like you just swallowed a lemon, what's up with that, huh?"
Tanjirou slapped a hand to his forehead and forced himself to relax the muscles in his face. "It was really nothing. Just some guys being creepy, and it got on my nerves."
Inosuke gave him an annoyed look. "That's it?"
"That's it."
Inosuke blew a raspberry in irritation, then promptly threw himself to the ground to sit on the dirt, unbothered by how that would likely get his kimono dirty.
"You're so goddamn weird," Inosuke complained, sitting back on the palm of his hands.
"Sorry."
"I hate this stupid mission," Inosuke grumbled to himself, absentmindedly scratching at his own neck. Tanjirou followed the motion, just as distracted, but gasped when he saw the red marks there.
"Inosuke, your neck!"
"Huh?"
Tanjirou kneeled behind him and batted his hand away, frowning at the scratching marks marring his skin.
"Were you scratching at it the entire time?"
"These clothes are itchy and too hot and it makes my skin feel weird," Inosuke explained with a grumble.
"You should've told me it was this bad…" Tanjirou gently touched a fingertip to the worst of the scratches, but Inosuke didn't as much as flinch.
He undid his own ribbon atop of his head, letting his bags fall over his forehead. "This won't do much, but it'll help a little bit," Tanjirou said, reaching for Inosuke's hair to tie it up in a delicate ponytail, twisting the ribbon into a perfect bow.
"I can't do anything about the clothes, but this way at least you'll get more wind on your neck, so it won't be as hot."
Inosuke twisted his head this and that way, trying to get a look at the ribbon, but when that failed, he settled for patting it and squeezing the base of the ponytail. His fingers lingered on the velvety bow, and he looked at Tanjirou out of the corner of his eyes, not fully turning to face him.
"...Thanks," he said in a quiet voice.
They probably made quite the weird sight, with Inosuke looking down at his lap in a rare show of bashfulness, while Tanjirou watched him at a loss for words. Not because he couldn't think of anything to say, but because anything he had to say would surely be some sort of term of endearment that Tanjirou was too embarrassed to say out loud.
But the last rays of sunset cast its glow on Inosuke's pale skin, making him glow almost ethereally: on his cheeks, on his now exposed legs, on the irritated skin of his neck. Unable to stop himself, Tanjirou pressed his thumb to the fine cuts again, dragging it across the expanse of Inosuke's neck; this time, he shivered under the touch.
"Does it hurt…?" Tanjirou asked.
"Hm? Oh, not really, I guess."
"You guess?" He chuckled.
Gently, with only a fingertip, a touch as delicate as the pale skin under his hands, Tanjirou dragged the edge of Inosuke's kimono downwards, exposing more of the nape of his neck. He stared down at it contemplatively, but it wasn't long before he touched it again, but this time with his lips. He got a brief taste of salt, and Inosuke's natural scent hidden under all the cologne they had forced him to wear.
When he pulled away, Inosuke was watching him over his shoulder, a puzzled look on his face (but not irritation or anger, Tanjirou noticed).
"What are you doing?"
That was a good question, what was he doing? Tanjirou wasn't quite sure, either. But looking at Inosuke, he felt like he might understand: it felt cleansing to do something like this, like he was washing the gazes of vulgar men off of Inosuke's skin.
He wondered if Inosuke would think him selfish, for wanting to be the only one on his skin.
"I don't know."
"You're a terrible liar."
Tanjirou chuckled, fingers tracing the edges of Inosuke's kimono. "I really am."
Inosuke watched him with a sort of quietness to him that was so unusual, but that Tanjirou didn't mind in the least. When he didn't say anything, nor did he look away, Tanjirou took a chance, and leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth, all while Inosuke watched.
Still close to him, Tanjirou whispered, just for the two of them: "Is this fine?"
Inosuke hummed, licked his bottom lip and frowned. "Dunno. Do it again."
Tanjirou laughed fondly. "It'll be a problem if we take too long to go back, Inosuke."
Inosuke took a fistful of Tanjirou's kimono and yanked him forward. "I don't care."
Tanjirou smiled into the next kiss.
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All weird asks!! They're so good!
Sorry this is a bit late, babe! I wanted to wait til I had the opportunity to answer all these uninterrupted!
1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?
Coffee mugs! tbh I drink tea out of coffee mugs because who actually uses teacups? I mean my grandma has tons and I would use them, but the handles are so tiny and I am v clumsy so it scares me.
2. chocolate bars or lollipops?
Chocolate bars!!! I’m too impatient for lollipops and plus they always get coated in saliva which just...drips down my chin since my mouth is already full.
3. bubblegum or cotton candy?
Bubblegum! I love cotton candy but I can only handle a bit at a time tbh. Also I haven’t had bubblegum in almost two years bc of braces and I miss it so much I can’t wait to have it again.
4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?
Okay, so even though I’ve always been homeschooled, when I was in elementary school we did this program with a ton of other homeschoolers where you could take actual classes and stuff. My teachers always said I was quiet and focused and studious, and you could always count on me to be lecturing everyone else on the instructions if they hadn’t been paying attention. (does any of that surprise anyone?)
5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups? GLASS SODA BOTTLES. nothing beats soda that’s been bottled in glass rather than plastic. You ever had orange cream soda from a glass bottle????? SLAPS ASS MY DUDE.
6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?
Pastel/boho/preppy/goth, my dude. I have so many sides to my fashion and aesthetic.
7. earbuds or headphones?
EARBUDS BC HEADPHONES NEVER FIT OVER MY EARS RIGHT. BUT EARBUDS WITH SOFT TIPS BECAUSE MY EARS ARE TOO SMALL FOR THE PLASTIC ONES.
8. movies or tv shows?
Tv shows tbh because even though I can binge 4 eps of 45 minutes each per night, they’ll hold my attention a lot more than a movie. It’s weird.
9. favorite smell in the summer?
Thunderstorms/petrichor, also natural bogs. PEAT BOG SMELL FUCKING SLAPS.
10. game you were best at in p.e.?
None. I liked trampoline time back when we took gymnastics, if that counts. I also liked jump roping and Irish step dancing.
11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?
Nothing lmao. I sleep til like noon and then I microwave something for lunch.
12. name of your favorite playlist?
My catchall playlist, Things I Love, my summer playlist, Summer Songs, my Gryffindor playlist, My Queen And Country playlist for writing, and my playlist for The Raven Cycle. (after I post this I’ll edit it and link them)
13. lanyard or key ring?
Keyring, a lanyard would like constantly detract from my outfit if that makes sense???
14. favorite non-chocolate candy?
Sour Patch Kids or Swedish Fish.
15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?
Between The Grapes Of Wrath, The Great Gatsby, The Handmaid’s Tale, and To Kill A Mockingbird!
16. most comfortable position to sit in?
Just fucking sprawled every which way.
17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?
My grey converse if it’s comfortable out, my silver flip flops if it’s hot, and my fur-lined black combat boots if it’s cold.
18. ideal weather?
65-70 degrees, partly sunny, breezy, not humid.
19. sleeping position?
I need to sprawl to fall asleep, but once I’m asleep I curl up into a little ball.
20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?
Laptop and notebook ONLY IF I’m sure of myself, which isn’t often. But I do write dense, scribbled paragraphs on sermon note pages if something comes to me during church lmao.
21. obsession from childhood?
The American Revolution, weather, astronomy, and mysteries/ghost stories.
22. role model?
Idk tbh? Lately I’m just trying to define and live up to my own standards?
23. strange habits?
Pulling the collar of my shirt up to my mouth and sucking on it. Also being a perfectionist in my writing. I don’t do messy drafts. It’s all perfect by the time I write it, and I edit/spellcheck as I go.
24. favorite crystal?
Amethyst (my birthstone), bismuth, opal, and blue goldstone.
25. first song you remember hearing?
Other than nursery rhymes/kid’s songs, it was Light Up The Sky by The Afters, or California Dreamin’ by The Mamas And The Papas.
26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?
Find shade/a cool spot and read with a cold drink.
27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?
ALSO READ. And snuggle with thick socks and a cup of tea and play DS games all day.
28. five songs to describe you?
My five faves atm -
I Am Here // Pink
The Pines // Roses and Revolutions
Soldier, Poet, King // The Oh Hellos
Traveler’s Song // Aviators
Hymn // Kesha
29. best way to bond with you?
Share my interests about politics, history, books, true crime, paranormal, tv shows, and also be kind and understanding when I don’t text for long periods bc I don’t feel up to talking.
30. places that you find sacred?
The woods on the hill behind my house. Dense, deeply green, secluded woods. Hedge mazes. Old and crumbling castles. Anywhere beneath a clear sky and a full moon. Your heart when you’ve come to terms with your fears and made peace with yourself. Anyplace with historical significance. Bookstores on an autumn/winter day. Libraries.
31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?
A kickass plaid, bruh. Also my leather jacket - once I lose enough shoulder weight to fit in it again.
32. top five favorite vines?
Fre shavoc ado, the one where the dog eats the butterfly, the Lin-Manuel Miranda one where he’s brainstorming, “what the FUCK kind of weather is this, and the dad and son with the saxophone and the oven door.
33. most used phrase in your phone?
“oh mood”
34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?
“WOW! It’s NatureStone!”
35. average time you fall asleep?
Right now it’s 4-5 am because I suck.
36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?
I Can Haz Cheezburger, My mom used to look at the website with me when I was like 10.
37. suitcase or duffel bag?
They both have pros and cons. :/ Duffel bags are easier to carry but suitcases keep stuff from getting broken better.
38. lemonade or tea?
TEAAAAAAAAAAAA
39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?
Lemon meringue pie!!! my stepdad made a really good one the other week.
40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?
Nothing, since I was homeschooled. Same weird shit that always happens at home. Our safe word for when I got overwhelmed in math was “quokka” and we’d stop and look at cute quokka pictures.
41. last person you texted?
My gf :)
42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?
Jacket pockets because things are not only hard to fit in girls’ pants pockets, but if you put a chapstick/lipstick in there it starts to melt :(
43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?
BETWEEN HOODIE AND CARDIGAN. SO VERSATILE. SO COMFY.
44. favorite scent for soap?
Irish Spring soap or the blue Dial bars smells better and cleaner than anything to me.
45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?
Fantasy. It can take me a bit to get into it, but once I do, I love it. I only do sci-fi if it has rebellion and isn’t heavy on the sci. And superhero movies are great but a lot of the tropes are meh. Fantasy has a lot more versatility if you ask me.
46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?
Sweatpants/leggings and a soft, well worn tee.
47. favorite type of cheese?
Parmesan, white cheddar, or Muenster.
48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?
Raspberry!
49. what saying or quote do you live by?
“do no harm but take no shit.”
50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?
A really poorly edited political ad on tv a couple years ago. There was weird jazz playing, flames in the background of an image of the Capitol Building, and then the top of the dome opened and this guy’s face was inside. It is the single funniest ad I have ever seen and I laughed for 10 minutes so hard I was like an inch away from passing out.
51. current stresses?
Passing my driving test next month, getting a job, figuring out if my math skills are okay enough to take the SAT or an equivalent test.
52. favorite font?
Baskerville or Georgia!
53. what is the current state of your hands?
My fingernails are short bc I picked them while reading earlier, my cuticles suck bc I pick at those two, and my pinky is obliterated and scabbed because of when I accidentally sliced through the nail with a razor while shaving the other day. So, not great, but I’m living.
54. what did you learn from your first job?
That kids can be really annoying but also really cute and hilarious if you can get them to calm down. And also that baby fingernails are surprisingly sharp.
55. favorite fairy tale?
The OG Princess and the Frog where it’s implied the prince and “faithful Henry,’ his carriage driver, fall in love and ride off together at the end. JACOB AND WILHELM GRIMM SAID GAY RIGHTS.
56. favorite tradition?
Every December, my mom and I drive around after dark at night and I play Pokemon and we rate everyone’s Christmas decorations based on tackiness.
57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?
So isolated I was as a preteen/early teenager, my self harm, and the internalized anger over my abusive relationship and PTSD.
58. four talents you’re proud of having?
Writing, puzzle solving, singing, and calligraphy.
59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?
“Benvoli-no.” (I recently remembered I used to say that a lot and I need to bring it back)
60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?
Dark, fairy tale anime with a lot of secrets to uncover and some dark woods.
61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?
TV show - “I am the Bad Wolf. I create myself.” - Doctor Who
Movie - “It’s not about deserve. It’s about what you believe. And I believe in love.” - Wonder Woman
Book - “If you never saw the stars, candles were enough.” - The Dream Thieves, by Maggie Stiefvater
62. seven characters you relate to?
Dean Winchester - Supernatural
Sam Winchester - Supernatural
Jack Kline Winchester - Supernatural
Charlie Bradbury - Supernatural
Gansey - The Raven Cycle
Blue Sargent - The Raven Cycle
Hermione Granger - Harry Potter
63. five songs that would play in your club?
Final Song // MO
Call Home // Heathers
I Am Here // Pink
Babylon // 5 Seconds of Summer
Shake It Off // Taylor Swift
64. favorite website from your childhood?
WEBKINZ AND THE OLD AMERICAN GIRL WEBSITE
65. any permanent scars?
Yes, I have several that remain from self harm, scars all over my left knee from being a clumsy child, and most of all a major scar down the center of my chest from heart surgery when I was a baby.
66. favorite flower(s)?
Rose, lavender, lilac, and dahlia.
67. good luck charms?
Not really???
68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?
Olives, mushrooms, radishes, cottage cheese, and ranch dressing are all foul.
69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?
Martin Luther didn’t actually nail his 95 theses to the church door, he just kind of passed them around, which is a lot less dramatic tbh. Also light-up signs were first used in New York City in 1884.
70. left or right handed?
I’m left-handed!
71. least favorite pattern?
I think zebra stripes, leopard print, and houndstooth are super ugly.
72. worst subject?
Math for sure. Even science would be easier if it didn’t involve so much math.
73. favorite weird flavor combo?
Wendy’s fries and chocolate frosty!!!
74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?
I think a 7, usually. My pain tolerance is pretty high because of a) years of self harm, and b) due to my PTSD my muscles are constantly tense and in pain anyway.
75. when did you lose your first tooth?
I was 4, and it had been loose but it fell out when I was trying to blow up an inflatable ball.
76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?
Fries or roasted potatoes that are charred and crunchy on the bottom. Chips are a close third.
77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?
Idk, my grandma’s the one with the green thumb mania lmao. But She keeps a lot of violets and arrowhead plants in the windowsills!
78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?
NEITHER I HATE BOTH COFFEE AND SUSHI IN ALL CIRCUMSTANCES.
79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?
Never had a school ID, but my temporary license photo is actually pretty good right now!
80. earth tones or jewel tones?
I really like earth tones for myself.
81. fireflies or lightning bugs?
THEY ARE THE SAME MF THING. Also I call them both, it just depends on what comes out of my mouth haha.
82. pc or console?
PC, I guess, though I don’t really game. I just watch my stepdad game.
83. writing or drawing?
WRITING. I cannot draw to save my life.
84. podcasts or talk radio?
Podcasts, talk radio is so annoying.
84. barbie or polly pocket?
Barbie, although I loved both.
85. fairy tales or mythology?
Mythology I guess??? Although again, I love both.
86. cookies or cupcakes?
COOKIESSSSS
87. your greatest fear?
Rejection, losing people I love, people secretly hating me. Also drowning, spiders, clowns, and guns.
88. your greatest wish?
To be a semi-successful author and work in a library/museum.
89. who would you put before everyone else?
My mom and my gf.
90. luckiest mistake?
Almost dropping a knife blade first on my foot but it landed between my toes.
91. boxes or bags?
um boxes I guess? I’m really good at fitting things in tetris style.
92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?
FAIRY LIGHTS AND DIM YELLOW LAMPS.
93. nicknames?
Ell, Alexander, Ellie, Little Lion, and Nerd.
94. favorite season?
FALL FALL FALL FALL
95. favorite app on your phone?
Tumblr or Spotify. Two apps I couldn’t live without.
96. desktop background?
97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?
About a half dozen. Mine, my mom’s, my stepdad’s, my grandparents’ home number, my grandpa’s, and my grandma’s.
98. favorite historical era?
Both the American Revolutionary period and the Victorian Era (esp in Britain)
THANK YOU LOVE THIS WAS SUPER FUN
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dating rocky. | astro
⇴ admin. cj
⇴ masterlists.
⇴ dating series masterlist.
oH mY GOD
i love park minhyuk, so imma just jump right iN (don’t mINd iF i DO)
so, you guys have known each other f o r e v e r, like, it’s unreal,,, you guys are Ultimate Best Friends™ a.k.a you’ve been together since birth. the amount of weird faces, sounds, and overall oddities cannot be put numbered on a list.
this boy has always been by your side, whether it was you trying out for some sports team, or when your parents were having a fight, he was there.
when you two were kids you would have the cutest nicknames for one another. “minnie! stop knocking down my sand castles!” “no can do, dumplin’, you look funny when you’re mad!”
okay, so, dumplin’ came from a sweet time when you two were together.
one night, your parents had decided to go out, and they also decided that they didn’t need babysitters this time ... so whoop-de-doo for you guys.
babysitters highkey sucked
and just like that, the rest of the night commenced.
you and minhyuk played around in the waiting area, while your parents tried to get you both to settle down (it didn’t work).
apparently you could knock people over when you played tag in a crowded place???? who knew??
anywho, when your families were seated, you guys bounced up and down, talking about insook and myungjun and how they had kissed on the playground earlier that day.
on the lips
it was all the rave.
but, minhyuk, he was being really weird. he kept looking at you with pink shade dusted across his cheeks. luckily the lights were dim, so you didn’t notice.
he kept losing himself in your eyes.
though he was only eight years old, he felt like he’d been in love with you for centuries. he could stare at you all night ... even when you scarfed down your 수제비 like you hadn’t had food in years ... even then
수제비 is a Korean dish with chicken and potato dumplings, so, as minhyuk watching you eat it rapidly, he thought the nickname dumplin’ was fitting
from then on, that’s what he called you.
you on the other hand, liked to sWitCH things uP
if you were annoyed, you called him minnie, because it angered him even more. he hated that name with a passion, and you knew it
if you were feeling down, you’d call him hyuk or minhyuk. when you called him one of those two (or even both), he would know something was up.
maybe it was an injury from a activity, a bad grade on a test, or maybe even a fight at home. he was there to comfort you. like always.
most of the time though, you called him rocky
you guys knew that was coming
you came up with that name when the two of you were playing outside in the snow one winter, and he slipped and fell, chipping his tooth on a rock.
all the way to the emergency dentist he cried. he wailed and sobbed about how this would ruin his look forever, and how he would never grow up to be a famous chef because he “couldn’t taste right with a tooth missing”
and, the whole car drive, you hugged him close. you told him that a chef didn’t need a full set of teeth to taste. just a tongue and a mouth.
eventually, he stopped, and was taken to the back of the office, where his mother was not allowed ... but you were.
through the procedure, he had one hand hanging down, and you tucked it in between both of yours. although he was on laughing gas, when you saw his brow wrinkle, his free hand would squeeze yours and you would return the favor.
when the doctors and the dentists had fixed his face and his mouth, he was a bit loopy.
“(Name), we have to goooo!” “Go where, Hyuk?” “I have—I have a shooting at twelve” “Are they shooting you for Food Network???”
“yES. finally someone understands.” “i know minhyuk, i’m the greatest.”
“marry me, dumplin’?”
“not yet, rocky. not yet.”
on the way back to his house, he fell asleep. you weren’t exactly sure when, or on what street, but your shoulder suddenly got a lot heavier. you looked over and saw minhyuk’s dark head of hair tilted onto its side
you also felt his drool
protecc this boy
please
through your childhood, you and park minhyuk had been best friends, who promised that they would never leave each other.
you just wished that those promises weren’t broken ...
in high school, the two of you grew apart. minhyuk was cast in a drama with some of his other, new friends,,,,, and you were just,,,, forgotten ...
minhyuk never picked up your calls, and he never returned you texts,,,, you had become a blip in his huge timeline,,,, a speck of dust on the glass that he was staring through.
and then, he started to fade. he started to fade from your life, from your vision,,, from your memory. his face started to blur, like watercolors on a canvas. his voice began to crackle and turn into static.
the last time you heard of his presence was at your art show, where you premiered some of your pieces. they were being auctioned off, and minhyuk’s mother had one of the highest bids.
she got the painting, but, minhyuk was elsewhere. you searched for him all night.
you couldn’t find him
it was a sign
soon, he was gone. just like that, a lifelong friend had disappeared. and you were almost sure he wasn’t coming back. you tried to stop thinking about him. you tried really hard. but, there was always that little bit of optimist in you.
she missed his smile every day. she missed “dumplin’”
the optimist missed him.
then again. the real you wasn’t an optimist. you knew he wasn’t coming back, and even if he did, he probably wouldn’t recognize you. you’d sort of,,, let yourself go ...
your twinkling, child-like grin began to slip away, and a mature scowl took its place. minhyuk definitely wouldn’t have known you if you’d of slapped him right smack in the face. he wouldn’t be able to guess that a smile as beautiful as yours could just disappear.
then, you sunk. into a ... shell, as some people would call it. you became somewhat of a hermit. spending nights alone in your room—only coming out for dinner. it was unhealthy, sure, but to you, it was a way to cope.
you kept to yourself at school, not wanting to be a bother, and mostly stayed in with teachers during lunch and p.e.
it was sad to watch—you even started growing apart from your parents. they tried to get you to open up, but you had thrown yourself in a cage. but, it was your own doing, and you didn’t want it to be unlocked.
this only made clear that there are many stages of grief.
but, little by little, you became your old self again. the process was long, but one morning, you woke up at three o’clock for an unknown reason. and, knowing that you weren’t going to get any more sleep, you went into the bathroom to shower and get dressed.
you looked out the window and sitting right on the tree branch outside was a plump robin building its nest. it paid you no mind, but the more diligent work it put into the construction, the bigger the grin grew on your face.
and that’s when it hit you
—you smiled.
rushing over to the mirror, you stared at your reflection with an excited beam on your face. your recovery started with a smile. it all started with a smile.
after your shower, you raced down the stairs and turned on the “hot debut” stage you recorded last night. you figured some music would help you start your day off right.
a well proportioned face appeared on the tv screen and you looked to the right corner to see who the group was.
“astro?” you murmured, “cute.” you continued watching, but one boy really stood out to you. he looked extremely familiar. a childhood friend, or something like that. when he began to rap, you looked to the bottom left corner, to see what his name was.
it came flooding back so fast that your head began to pound. could it be, that you knew an idol?
“rocky—park minhyuk,” you whispered, “that’s right. he was the one who left. after all these years—he remembered.”
the when their first album came out, you bought it without hesitation. your only wish was to secure a spot and be able to get into a fansign. you needed to see him.
and, a few weeks later, there you were. waiting in line to be one of the first people to meet astro. saying you were ecstatic would be an extreme understatement.
with a great big grin on your face, you stepped up to meet sanha. he flashed you a bright beam and took your hands in his. the two of you talked about music and dance and how much you both enjoyed being there.
what a cutie
you moseyed along, talking with mj next, eunwoo second, then moonbin and jinjin, then finally—you stopped in front of rocky. you tried your best to keep from letting your tears fall.
“i’m surprised,” you laughed, sniffling a bit, “i thought you wanted to be a chef?” he looked to you and his eyes widened. “but, you always have been a good dancer, rocky.”
“[Y/N],” he breathed, voice wavering, “wow. i’ve missed you so much.” you nodded, not trusting your mouth to speak the right words. instead, you squeezed his hand tightly. he bit his lip to keep from crying, and you did the same.
even though the salty rivulets would come eventually
“well, we don’t have enough time now, but later—would you like to, oh i don’t know, maybe get an ice cream with me?” his hesitant question blew you away, but you agreed nevertheless.
and, your recovery furthered. just like that robin, you were building a relationship again. this time, though, it would be stronger.
this time, it would last.
you were sure.
and, little did you know, you were right. woo woo !!
after a few months of sporadic (but frequent) “dates,” the two of you finally started dating. it was like a dream come true, and that beautiful smile of yours was seemingly infinite whenever minhyuk was around.
your favorite place to go with him was the ice cream parlor near your school. it was peaceful, and it served really good craft sodas. cherry, orange, lemon, lime, blue raspberry, and grape.
you also liked going to the movies with him and the other boys. minhyuk always wanted to go see action movies, but every once in awhile, he would give in and see a horror movie with you.
he made you promise that you would protect him after. minnie is precious i love him so much but he would never admit it in front of the boys.
minhyuk didn’t really get jealous, but when you were chatting it up with moonbin or sanha was teaching you a new dance move, he did get a bit riled up.
“minnie,” you giggled, teasing him, “you’ll always be my bias. i promise.” his bottom lip got a little smaller, and he snaked an arm around you. “i know, [Y/N]. i just wanted to hear you say it.”
sometimes he’s a cheeky little shit
but loving him is a given.
with cuddling, minhyuk is shy. he’s quiet and doesn’t really do a lot of pda. but, when you guys are hanging around the dorms alone, he’s all over you.
his favorite way to hug you is from behind.
he really likes resting his chin on your shoulder. (and let’s be honest here, so do you.)
but his all time favorite thing to do is sit with you on the couch. his head’s in your lap, and your fingers are carding through his naturally tousled hair. and, a laugh bubbles from your lips as the two of you watch a cheesy rom-com.
some people might call it wasted time, but minhyuk calls it time well spent. then again, he calls any time spent with you well spent. someone please call a funeral service bc i am deceased (and jade you sent me that video and i will never forgive you. MINHYUK IS A PRECIOUS BABY,,, but i digress)
when the two of you fight, it’s normally harmless. but, you do get really worried when he’s in danger of overworking himself.
if there’s a new comeback, you make sure he gets to the dorm and goes to sleep, even if that means going back with him. sometimes, he gets annoyed with the hovering.
“you’re not my mother! stop babying me, [Y/N]!!” his exclamations make you halt, and you purse your lips while scowling. “park minhyuk,” you utter, your voice steely and cold, “i’m not trying to be your mother. i’m trying to make sure you’re well and healthy,”
you continue, “arohas will love you no matter what. but, they won’t love it if you overwork yourself and end up getting hurt. so, if you can’t think of me as a reason to respect your well-being, then think of your fans—think of yourself.”
this is where the tears fall. still keeping your head high, you begin to feel the liquid pooling and pricking at the back of your eyes.
he turns his gaze to the floor, and walks over to you. “i’m sorry,” he mutters. you shake your head, and pull him into you.
the hug is pure and chock full of tenderness. though you would much rather see him resting in his bed—him resting in your arms is just as good. you smile into his shoulder.
he backs away, and cups your cheeks in his calloused hands. he leans into you and presses a delicate kiss on your lips.
and, when the two of you break apart, you gaze into his eyes. and, that’s when you see it. the days, the months, the years that the both of you had known each other. it amazed you—you didn’t know that an entire timeline could be visible in one person’s eyes.
you convinced him to go back to the dorms, but he convinced you to stay the night. you guys talked the night away, and eventually the two of you fell asleep.
your head was settled on his chest, while the steady beat of his heart guided you to a peaceful slumber. minhyuk stayed awake for a little while, admiring your slackened features, and soaking in all the quiet minutes that would one day be forever.
you and minhyuk loved each other, it was as simple as that. neither of you felt burdened, because love wasn’t work. it wasn’t a job that had requirements and tasks. it was a pure feeling—one that couldn’t be replaced by anything else.
minhyuk wished he could gift you the entire galaxy, but for now, all he could give you was his love
—not that you were complaining ...
#rocky#park minhyuk#astro#astro rocky#astro park minhyuk#rocky imagines#rocky scenarios#park minhyuk imagines#park minhyuk scenarios#astro imagines#astro scenarios#astro rocky imagines#astro rocky scenarios#astro minhyuk imagines#astro minhyuk scenarios#kpop#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#rocky x reader#park minhyuk x reader#rocky fluff#park minhyuk fluff
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stay (don’t stray)
Megamind/Roxanne
T rating, pre-movie AU
Coming home is a gradual thing.
AO3 | FFN
Roxanne begins by leaving the balcony door open.
It’s a warm spring, and there’s fresh air in the apartment every day, and, one day when she walks downstairs, there’s Megamind, standing in the middle of her living room, with an unnecessary set of lock picks in his hand, looking faintly bewildered.
The rest of the kidnapping proceeds as usual.
Roxanne keeps leaving the balcony door open.
The open door seems to make him nervous. He’s broken in and kidnapped her in every room of her apartment, save the bathroom and her bedroom, but when she starts leaving the door open, he doesn’t seem to want to come any further inside than he has to. He’s hesitant, even, to come and get her when she’s in the kitchen; it takes him a noticeable moment of indecision before he does it, every time.
Roxanne starts spending more time in the living room.
She’s eating dinner on the couch one night when she looks up and sees him. He’s a few paces away, can of knockout spray upraised. His mouth opens, but before he can voice whichever evil laugh or ineffective threat he intends to make, Roxanne smiles at him.
He freezes.
“Hey,” she says, voice calm, “are we in a hurry, or is it okay if I finish eating, first?”
Megamind stares at her, eyes too large.
“—is—I—what?” he manages to say.
“Is the evil plot time-sensitive?” Roxanne asks. She lifts up her bowl of soup, showing it to him. “I’m kind of hungry, but it can wait, if we’re really in a hurry.”
Again, a long moment in which Megamind stares at her.
“N-no,” he says, sounding utterly lost, “it’s not—it’s not time-sensitive…”
“Thanks,” Roxanne says, and goes back to eating her soup.
Megamind stands in the same place, shoulders up and drawn inwards, as if he’s wary of some kind of attack.
“Why don’t you sit down?” Roxanne asks, keeping her tone perfectly ordinary and conversational. “It’s silly for you to have to stand while you wait.”
She pats the couch next to her invitingly, and Megamind’s eyes narrow in extreme suspicion.
Roxanne shrugs.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she says, and takes another bite of soup.
She takes three more bites before Megamind stalks, with a kind of stiff grace, like an offended cat, to the sofa, and sits on the extreme far edge of it, well out of her reach.
“I,” he declares, “am a supervillain! I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to, Miss Ritchi!”
Roxanne bites her lip against a smile and he glares at her, arms crossed defensively over his chest, his spine very straight.
“Of course,” she murmurs, reaching for her glass of iced tea and taking a sip. “Do you want something to eat, too? I feel guilty eating in front of you like this.”
Megamind tilts his head, expression of suspicion deepening.
“—are you trying to poison me?” he asks.
Roxanne rolls her eyes, puts down her glass, and stands up.
“Here,” she says, handing her bowl to Megamind.
He takes it automatically, then makes a face like he’s bit into a lemon, clearly annoyed with himself.
“You can have that one,” Roxanne says, before he can say anything, “if you’re really that worried about poison.”
She moves around the couch towards the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” Megamind asks, voice rising. “I don’t understand what you’re doing!”
“I’m getting another bowl for me,” she says, perfectly calm. “You can have that glass of tea, too.”
When she brings her new bowl and glass back to the couch, Megamind is on his feet once more, the knockout spray in one hand again, de-gun in the other, now.
“Are you playing for time; is that what you’re doing?” he asks, words rapped out fast and angry, “Is he coming over? Are you waiting for someone to show up?”
Roxanne sighs and sets the bowl and glass down on the coffee table.
“No,” she says. “We can go now, if you’re really bothered, Megamind.”
Megamind growls under his breath.
“You’re bluffing,” he says.
“I’m not,” Roxanne says, and walks to him. “It’s okay,” she says, when he doesn’t move to spray her. “We can go, now, Megamind.”
He growls again, angrier and more inhuman this time.
“Stop. That.” he says.
“Stop what?” Roxanne asks.
He sprays her.
“She kept being nice at me, Minion!” Megamind gestures wildly. “She was—was—she was menacing me with kindness!”
Minion continues to fold the laundry.
“It doesn’t sound menacing to me, Sir,” he says. “Miss Ritchi has always been polite to me when I come get her.”
“Of course she’s polite to you! She likes you! What are you not getting about this?!”
Minion makes a wordless noise that manages to be sympathetic, soothing, and skeptical all at once.
“You’re trying to intimidate me,” Megamind says, three days later, glaring down at Roxanne as she eats a doughnut in her bathrobe. “I’m not intimidated!”
“You,” Roxanne says, gesturing with the half-eaten doughnut, “have an unnecessarily suspicious mind, you know that?”
He sits down suddenly on the far end of the couch.
“I’m not intimidated!” he repeats defiantly.
“Okay,” Roxanne says, and pushes the box of doughnuts over towards him. “You want a doughnut?”
“No!”
Roxanne laughs and licks powdered sugar from her fingers.
“Right,” she says. “Well, you can have this coffee, at least. I’ll go get another cup.”
She sets the cup down in front of him and goes back to the kitchen. When she returns, the first cup is still on the coffee table in front of him. Megamind is glaring down at it as if it has personally insulted him in some way.
Roxanne sits down again and he looks up at her.
“I don’t want it!” he says defensively.
“All right,” Roxanne says, shrugging.
Megamind gives her a look that clearly indicates he’d like to smother her to death with a decorative throw pillow. He picks up the cup.
“I’m not intimidated,” he mutters, and takes a sip of coffee.
Which he immediately and violently spits back out into the cup.
Roxanne, in the middle of taking a sip from her own cup, nearly chokes on coffee and shocked laughter.
“That is disgusting!” Megamind says, as she coughs.
His ears and cheekbones are absolutely burning pink as he sets the cup down sharply and shoves it away.
“S-sorry?” Roxanne says, trying not to laugh, and not really succeeding, “I mean—it’s just coffee; what’s wrong with it?”
“There isn’t any cream! There isn’t even any sugar! You cannot possibly drink coffee like that!”
“—I mean, sometimes I do,” Roxanne says. “If I’m already eating something sweet—”
“Stop it!” Megamind jerks to his feet as if some kind of line that’s been holding him in place has snapped. “Stop; just stop!”
“…stop drinking my coffee black?”
“Stop talking to me like—stop being—”
He takes a sharp breath through his nose, lets it out slowly, his teeth gritted.
Roxanne takes a bite of her second doughnut and waits for him to say something.
He doesn’t, though, just continues to glare at her. Roxanne finishes the doughnut.
“Okay,” she says, standing up from the couch, “I just have to get dressed, and then I’ll be ready to go.”
Megamind makes a discordant noise of frustration in the back of his throat.
Roxanne pats him on the arm as she passes and he actually flinches back from her as if she’s struck him, his breath hissing through his teeth.
Back in his cell later that night, Megamind paces restlessly, rubbing his arm where she touched him.
There had been powdered sugar on her fingers; some of it had ended up on his shirt.
He hadn’t been able to make himself brush the marks of her fingers from his arm, and had been forced to pretend, throughout the entire kidnapping, that he hadn’t noticed them there.
The next time Megamind shows up at her apartment at breakfast time, Roxanne has made sure the coffee pot is already on the table, along with sugar, creamer, and an extra cup.
He watches warily as she adds sugar and cream to her cup, as she takes a sip, as she places the cup down on the coffee table within his reach. She pours herself another cup, drinks, takes a bite of toast.
Megamind snatches his cup up quickly, as if he’s afraid she’s going to slap his hand away, and then he cradles it in both hands, close to his chest.
Suspicious green eyes watch her over the rim of it as she takes another bite of toast.
For several minutes he just holds the cup as she continues to eat, and then finally, with quick, tense movements, he adds more cream and sugar to it.
Roxanne raises her eyebrows as the sixth spoonful of sugar goes into the cup.
“What?” Megamind snaps defensively, seeing her expression.
“You like your coffee really sweet, huh?” Roxanne says.
He glares at her like he suspects some kind of hidden mockery in the words.
“Just coffee?” Roxanne asks. “Or do you like sweet stuff in general?”
“Why?” Megamind asks, eyes narrow.
“I was just curious,” Roxanne says gently.
He gives her that flat glare again, and Roxanne assumes he’s not going to answer.
“Yes,” he says.
Roxanne blinks in surprise.
“Yes, I like sweet things,” he says, still sounding as if he suspects a trick.
Roxanne makes a humming noise of interest.
“Do you?” Megamind says, asking the question like he’s throwing down a gauntlet, like he’s not expecting her to answer.
“Oh! Yeah, but not as much as you,” Roxanne says, unable to keep from smiling at him, “if your tastes in coffee are anything to go by. I like raspberry.”
“Are you trying to delay things so that we don’t get to the evil plot?” Megamind asks, watching Roxanne narrowly as he tears a dinner roll into tiny pieces.
She blinks at him, an expression of what appears to be honest surprise on her face.
“No,” she says.
“It’s taken me fifteen additional minutes each time to kidnap you on average, over the last month,” Megamind says, not looking away from her face, watching for any shift in her expression that will tell him she’s lying. “And the time spent at your apartment pre-kidnapping shows a gradual increase over the month, when charted out.”
She blinks again.
“I mean, you can just come by earlier,” she says, “if you’re worried we’re cutting in too much on the evil plots.”
Megamind doesn’t say anything to that, but his suspicions are instantly aroused. A trap? Ready to spring when he arrives early at the next kidnapping?
He shows up to her apartment hours early, the next time, while she’s still at work, and after a brainbot patrol has reported Metro Man is at his own home.
Megamind will already be here in Roxanne's apartment, lying in wait, when they come to set their trap; they won’t catch him off guard!
Nobody shows up until Miss Ritchi comes into the apartment after work.
She shuts her apartment door, and her keys jangle as she puts them back in her purse. She turns.
“Oh, hey,” she says, looking surprised. “You’re ho—here.”
Her face flushes as she stumble on the last word—chagrin at the realization that he’s seen through her plan? He stands up with a menacing flourish.
“Your attempt at entrapment has failed, Miss Ritchi! As you can see, I am already here!”
Her lips quiver and she throws him a glance that, if he didn’t know better, he might read as amused affection. She tosses her purse down on the kitchen counter.
“Mm,” she says, making a sound not unlike the one Minion makes when he’s trying to be soothing but express skepticism all the same. “‘Kay. You want anything special for dinner, sweet—ah—I—I was—thinking chinese. Um—sweet—sweet and sour chicken sounds good…”
Megamind chews his lip as he watches her take off her shoes.
She seems—slightly flustered, but not nearly as distressed at his foiling her scheme to trap him as he would have expected. Maybe that’s not the actual scheme. Maybe it’s something else; maybe the implication of a trap set early was a clever ruse—
“Only if we can order from the place with the good fortune cookies,” he says. “And I make the phone call! I won’t have you sneakily phoning for Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes!”
“The menu’s in the drawer,” Roxanne says.
“He’s never here.”
Roxanne looks over at him, a puzzled line between her brows.
“Who?” she asks.
Megamind grits his teeth.
Roxanne starts leaving food out on the counter.
It’s sweet things, always—cookies, doughnuts, danishes.
Megamind suspects poison again, but Roxanne eats the things herself, in front of him. Maybe she has the location of the poisoned treats versus the non-poisoned ones on the plate memorized? He could switch them around to test that theory, but he’s not going to risk her having dosed them with something that could prove dangerous to her.
He takes one home, instead, a chocolate chip cookie, and subjects it to the most rigorous scientific testing possible.
It’s just a cookie.
“You’re not dating him.”
“Wh—oh,” Roxanne says, taking a bite of pizza. “No, I’m not.”
“You broke up with him.”
Roxanne gives a little snort of laughter that has no right to be as endearing as he finds it. He bites the inside of his cheek.
“No,” she says.
“He broke up with you?” Megamind bursts out, unable to keep the incredulous edge from his voice.
She gives another snort of laughter.
“No,” she says again.
She has sugar cookies out, the next time he goes to kidnap her, and since he’s feeling reckless and frustrated, he eats one.
Roxanne absolutely beams at him when he does, which makes him assume it really is poisoned, but he doesn’t have any sort of strange reaction at all, and none of this makes any sense whatsoever.
She was never dating Metro Man?
Never?
The entire world has ceased to make sense.
Unless she’s lying.
No, she’s not lying; Metro Man really isn’t ever there, and he would never have the attention span for any sort of long term plan like the one Roxanne’s playing out, here, anyway.
Whatever plan it is she’s playing out, here.
It’s summer, by now, the air turning hot and sticky, and the first night Megamind lands on her balcony and finds the door closed, his stomach drops in a horrible and utterly inexplicable way.
It isn’t—she was only doing it to—to unsettle him; he should be relieved she’s given up on—
He sees the sign taped to the doorframe.
It’s unlocked, Megamind.
—R
He stands there looking at it for a long time before finally opening the door and slipping inside.
If her plan is to unsettle him, it is definitely working, Megamind is forced to admit.
The more time he spends with her, in her apartment, the more unsettled he feels. He should just stop going there at all, he knows that, knows he should stick to picking her up from her office or the street, should stick to sending Minion to her apartment, but he can’t, god, he can’t.
“Why are you doing this?” Megamind asks, voice high and distressed.
Roxanne’s lips twist.
“If I’d known being nice to you was all it took to get you this riled up,” she says, putting down her fork, “I would have done it a lot sooner.”
“You admit, then,” he says, voice wavering, and he should be glad that he’s finally tricked her into confirming his suspicions, but he feels, instead, as if he’s going to fly into a million sharp edged pieces at any moment, “you admit that you’re doing it to upset me—”
“No,” Roxanne says.
She reaches out and wraps her fingers around his wrist and squeezes. Megamind stops breathing, goes utterly still beneath her hand.
“No,” she says, “I would have been, before, but I’m not, now.”
Megamind makes a low, unhappy noise of confusion and frustration and she lets go of his wrist.
“I’m not—” she says, voice soft, and for a moment she looks almost sad, “—I’m not very good at this being nice thing, am I?”
Megamind has no idea how to answer that. Roxanne sighs and pats his arm (again he goes startle-still) and then she gathers up the dishes and takes them to the sink.
He can’t stay away from her.
He never could stay away from her, and now it’s so much worse, the torment only increasing every time she lets him just a little bit closer.
She lets him sit on the couch with her and finish the movie she’s watching.
She props her feet up in his lap.
She lets him ask what book it is she’s reading.
She flips to the beginning of the book and reads the first chapter out loud to him, reads all the rest of the chapters out loud to him, a new chapter each kidnapping like she’s playing at being Scheherazade, and every time he has to stand up and spray her and go through with the evil plot, it just gets harder to do.
Pretending that’s all he wants.
Pretending he’s ever really wanted that.
Pretending he doesn’t want—
And yet he has to keep coming up with evil plot after evil plot, because how else is he supposed to keep seeing her? What other excuse could he have for coming to her?
There isn’t one. There isn’t any excuse for his presence.
There isn’t any excuse for him.
“These are for you,” Megamind says abruptly, and sets the box of chocolates on Roxanne’s coffee table.
Roxanne’s lips part, her eyes going wide, color flying to her cheeks, and Megamind thinks wildly that he would very much like to throw himself headfirst from the balcony right now.
“They’re raspberry,” he says in despair as she lifts the lid.
She reaches for one of the chocolates, her lips forming an O of anticipatory pleasure—they’re extremely good quality chocolates, the best he could find, and—
“The third one has sleeping serum in it,” Megamind blurts out, like the utter, hopeless, pathetic idiot he is.
Roxanne pauses with her hand hovering over the chocolates. She looks up at him.
And she—
—smiles.
“I guess I’ll have to eat that one last, then,” she says, and picks up a chocolate.
She bites into it without any hesitation, as if Megamind hasn’t already admitted to drugging one of the chocolates, as if he’s—
She picks up a second chocolate and offers it to him wordlessly. Megamind swallows and shakes his head as he sits down on the edge of the couch. Roxanne makes a noise that clearly indicates she would actually rather have the entire box to herself anyway.
And—god—Megamind would much, much rather watch her enjoying them.
Roxanne is—she’s so—
The little humming noises of satisfaction she makes, and the way she licks her fingers, and the small smear of chocolate on her bottom lip, and—
(later, lying alone in bed with his stomach twisting with guilt and his hand between his legs, Megamind will bite his lip against a moan and come apart to the memory of her like this)
Finally, the box is empty, except for the third chocolate, the one he dosed and then warned her about.
She reaches for it.
“You don’t have to.”
Roxanne looks up at him, her hand poised over the box.
Her surprised eyes meet his and Megamind jerks to his feet, almost stumbling in his sudden haste to not be here, to not be doing this, to not be—
“You don’t have to,” he says again, “you don’t—have to—I’ll—I’ll go; I can go; I’ll just go—”
“You don’t have to,” Roxanne says, her eyes wide and her hand hovering, and Megamind makes a choked, panicked, alien noise in the back of his throat and flees.
He throws himself viciously into the construction of the next doomsday device, and the next, and the next.
Megamind manages to send Minion for her the next three kidnappings in a row, and he doesn’t go to her apartment when she’s there, and he doesn’t go to her apartment when she’s not there, and he doesn’t sleep.
This last fact is not an important one, no matter what Minion might say, or the brainbots might hint.
Wanting to be with her is actually physically painful, the way that starvation is painful, that same kind of screaming, desperate emptiness, a hunger in his skin and his chest and his bones and his mind.
It’s autumn now, the air cool and crisp. The balcony door is open. Megamind slips inside.
He’s just going to stay for a moment, just a moment; he’ll be long gone by the time she gets home from work; she’ll never even know he was here. He’s just—
He’s crying, suddenly, too tired to stop himself, too tired to do it quietly. Too tired to do anything but collapse on Roxanne’s couch and curl up into a ball and cry and cry and cry.
Misery and exhaustion bleed together in his mind.
He’s still crying when he falls asleep.
Her apartment is dark when Roxanne finally makes it home. She switches on the light and locks the door behind herself. As she’s putting her purse down on the counter, she hears a soft noise from the living room.
She glances over and sees—Megamind, sitting up from where he’s been lying on her couch. He looks around, blinking, his eyes unfocused and his expression faintly bewildered.
Sleeping, Roxanne realizes, he was sleeping on her couch.
“Hey,” she says softly, moving towards him.
He looks up at her, the back of the couch between them, and Roxanne reaches out without thinking and touches his head, strokes her palm over the curve of it.
“I didn’t mean to wake you, sweetheart,” she says.
And.
And there’s a—a frozen kind of moment in which Roxanne realizes what she’s said and what she’s doing and she sees Megamind realize what she’s said and what she’s doing and then—
She sees something break in his eyes, and then he turns his head and presses his lips to her palm.
“—oh,” Roxanne says, a breathless, almost silent sound.
“Why,” he says, his voice cracking in the middle, “why would you call me—why are you being—Roxanne—I can’t—please—please stop—it hurts too—”
“I’m sorry,” Roxanne says, catching the other side of his face with her other hand. “I’m sorry, sweetheart; I’m sorry; I never wanted to hurt you, Megamind; I’m so sorry—”
He looks at her again, green eyes wide and tearful, and Roxanne presses a kiss to his forehead—then to his cheekbone, his temple, his jaw—
Megamind makes a soft, broken noise and turns his head, catching her mouth with his.
Roxanne gasps in surprise and he starts to pull back, but she dips her head and kisses him again and he melts into her.
He almost sobs into her mouth when she rubs her thumbs over his cheekbones, and when she hums soothingly against his lips, he moans and reaches up to grab her shoulders, arching up into her like he’s afraid she’s going to push him away at any moment.
Roxanne slides one of her hands to the back of his head and the other to the back of his neck, holds him in place as she kisses him.
(possession and reassurance in the pressure of her hands and the pressure of her lips)
He’s trembling when she finally eases out of the kiss. She brushes her lips over his one last time and leans away to look at his face. His eyes meet hers for only a moment, and then he flinches, squeezing his eyes shut again.
“—please,” he whispers, “please don’t make me leave, Roxanne.”
Roxanne gives a soft laugh, feeling tears rise to her eyes.
“Megamind,” she says, “sweetheart—I’ve been trying this whole time to convince you to stay.”
He opens his eyes and looks at her, his lips slightly parted, his eyes wide and green and astonished. Roxanne smiles at him a little tremulously, and then bends down to kiss him again.
“Roxanne—why—why didn’t you just tell me?”
It’s several weeks later; Megamind is sitting half curled up on her couch in his pajamas, watching her over the top of his cup of ridiculously over-sweet coffee.
Roxanne gives him a questioning look as she takes a sip of coffee.
“Why didn’t you just tell me—what you were doing?” he asks. “With being nice to me. Why didn’t you just tell me?”
Roxanne puts her cup of coffee down.
“I didn’t think you’d believe me,” she says. “I was afraid of scaring you off.”
Megamind frowns and Roxanne smiles at him with gentle, wry affection.
“Sweetheart,” she says, “you didn’t even believe I meant it when I smiled at you. Megamind, honestly, if I had told you that I loved you, then, would you have believed me?”
Megamind makes a face.
“—probably not,” he admits, putting down his own cup of coffee.
Roxanne laughs and shakes her head. Megamind wrinkles his nose at her and shifts to lie down with his head in her lap.
“You know I’m right,” she tells him.
He makes a complaining, not-quite-human noise but doesn’t argue. Roxanne drapes her arm over the curve of his head and closes her eyes, smiling.
“—do you?” Megamind asks.
“Hmm?” Roxanne opens her eyes and looks down at him. “Do I what?”
He curls his arm a little tighter around one of her knees.
“—do you love me?” he asks, voice soft and vulnerable.
Roxanne smiles down at him, her heart very full of happiness.
“Yes,” she says. “Yes, I do.”
Megamind makes a soft noise of contentment and settles his head more comfortably in her lap.
...the end.
notes:
Day sixteen of my Birthday Fic Month! And day five of the Megamind Valentine’s Day event. Prompt used was home is you.
The working title of this one was ‘the feral cat story’. The actual title is from the lyrics of the song Sway.
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Nothing under 7 inches (4)
MASTERLIST
Pairing: Baker!Bucky x reader
Warnings: After a lot of angst in part 3, there is a tiny bit of fluff and hope in part 4. So don’t despair just yet, but don’t get your hopes up too much either.
Word count: 2k
Summary: Bucky is a baker in Y/N’s hometown and with her mother’s birthday right around the corner, he’s excited to see her again. Y/N however doesn’t plan on staying for too long and aims to return to the city life, a dirty little secret getting in the way of her love life.
A/N: My prompt was “cottage”. This fic is written for @soldatbarnes her writing challenge. If you want on the tag list, please send me an ask! I can’t keep track of all the comments.
Series masterlist can be found here
After dinner you rushed up to your room to switch shoes, trading in your comfy sneakers for high heels. Whilst searching your luggage for the heels you took out earlier, you realise you must’ve left them downstairs in the living room before heading towards Bucky. So you take two steps at a time and hurry downstairs again, finding your brother Wade perched on the couch, his feet up on the table and your high heels in his lap as he plays one of his old video games while he waits for the guests to arrive.
“Looking for these, baby sis?,” he chuckles as he holds up your heels. “How high are these anyway? Won’t you break your ankles or something when you fall on your face?”
Shoving his shoulder and taking back your heels, you sit cross-legged next to him on the couch after kicking off your sneakers, dirty from the muddy road to the cottage. “They’re only seven inches and they were a gift from a… euhm… a friend. They’ve got this rule… nothing under seven inches. Most of my heels are like ten or something…”
Wade rolls his eyes at the word ‘friend’ and sticks his tongue out at you. “Friend? My dick! This shit is expensive, Y/N. It’s got red soles, sis. No way one of your friends could ever afford Louboutins.”
He hands you the second controls and invites you to play with him, giving you a nice way out to avoid the topic any further. But as soon as he beats you for the third time in a row, he notices your mind isn’t really focused on the present and shuts off the television.
“Alright, baby sis, tell me, why do you suddenly have a huge stick up your ass? The girl that I grew up knowing would never risk her life wearing these monsters.”
You gaze at your big brother with big doe eyes, that innocent pitch to your tone worked wonders for you back when you were kids. “They’re for work. And it’s true, a friend gave them to me.”
But Wade doesn’t fall for your act and crosses his arms over his chest, sticking his tongue out at you. “Nah, you can’t fool me, Y/N. Unless you won the jackpot with the lottery or you have some filthy rich guy on the side.”
Wetting your lips as to delay your answer, Wade realises he’s right. “Holy shit, Y/N. It’s true, isn’t it?,” he laughs in surprise. “My baby sis is now a sugar baby.”
You’re too embarrassed to say anything and avert your eyes, looking like a prissy little kid that didn’t get the Christmas present they wanted. “Don’t look like you’ve just eaten a lemon, Y/N,” Wade reason with you, the joke ever present in his voice. “When life hands you lemons…”
“You squeeze ‘em,” you finish the sentence first, a small smile breaking your sour expression.
“That’s right! You squeeze ‘em!” Wade claps his hands and wraps an arm around your shoulder, holding you against him. “Now, tell me, how did you manage to squeeze that sugar daddy of yours, hm? I promise I won’t judge. I’m the last person in this house to judge.”
You’ve always felt like you could trust your brother with anything and everything. Your mother would never understand what you were going through, all of her empathy poured into her fictional characters. Your father on the other hand was a good listener, but rarely around. Peggy was always busy with her extracurricular activities, so that left your big brother Wade to cheer you up when you were feeling down. He was your confidant, and still is.
So you confide in him about Tony, about Sharon and how she introduced you to Steve, and finally about your conversation with Bucky. Wade sometimes makes a little, funny comment to lighten the mood but never interrupts you, not even when you start to cry again.
“I thought you guys broke up after high school?,” he eventually whispers softly into your hair. “Or did I miss something?”
“We didn’t really break up, Wade…,” you stutter in between the tears. “We said goodbye and broke up, but we never really broke with each other. And I think that this time, we did.”
“Oh, Y/N,” Wade shushes, his usual sarcastic tongue tied by the overwhelming pain you must be feeling. “You clearly don’t know, do you?”
Batting your eyelashes, heavy with droplets, you free your blurry vision and gaze at your brother, a question on the tip of your tongue. “Don’t know what?”
“The problem is not that Bucky doesn’t want to move to a big city or that you don’t want to stay in a small one. The problem is that you think there’s no way you can work it out. But Y/N, there’s always a solution, even if you don’t see it. Like… I didn’t believe I could give such good advice, but clearly I can.”
“Fuck you, Wade,” you chuckle quietly. “I love you, but fuck you.”
A hearty laugh rumbles through his chest and shakes up your nerves. “I deserve that. I wasn’t there for you. But I’m here for you now and I’m going to help you in any way I can. Starting with Buck.”
Wade scoops you up in his arms and once he’s on his feet, throws you over his shoulder, your protesting cries resonating through the entire house. Luckily the rest of the family is serving drinks on the terrace out back, so they don’t hear the profanities you direct towards your older brother.
“Bucky is finishing up on mom’s cake at the cottage. I’m carrying you there personally.” When you keep screaming at the top of your lungs, he halts in the middle of the hallway and slaps your ass. “Y/N, I’m doing you a favour.” And with those final words, he takes you back to the cottage, eventually shutting you up.
Bucky has just added the finishing touches to the decorations to your mom’s raspberry chocolate birthday cake, like Wade predicted, when he heard some kind of argument going on outside. Peering out of his window, he sees Wade hoisting you up in the air by means of teasing you before setting you back down.
“What’s going on?,” he queries as he dusts off his hands on his apron as you eye your brother with an angry gaze.
Wade just straightens his back and answers straight to the point. “Y/N loves you. You love Y/N. I’m taking the cake back to mom while you get dead honest with each other.”
Your brother points to you first, his eyes telling you he means serious business. “You’re gonna tell him everything. And then you’re going to find a solution that fits you both.” Then he directs his finger to Bucky. “And you,” he begins with a sigh. “You’re gonna listen and shut up until she tells you to talk. You’re not gonna argue, you’re just gonna listen. And then you’re going to kiss and make up.”
Wade’s statement leaves no room for interpretation and with one nod of his head in your direction, he leaves you in the lion’s den. Bucky is nailed to the ground in astonishment, not intimidated by your brother but by his words and he knows Wade’s only doing this with the best of intentions.
So after a short while, Bucky proposes something new. “How about we bake a cake together?”
With ardent eyes you scan him, searching for signs of mockery or malicious intent. But Bucky is just Bucky, in all his innocence and his boyishness. He doesn’t want to make you feel even worse than you already do, he only wants to bake a cake with you to clear the air and just talk.
“O-Okay,” you stutter after you’ve assessed the potential heartbreak that could come from this situation. Yet Bucky means no harm, and with a soft smile playing on his lips he gathers all the ingredients he has left in his kitchen.
Taking out some milk and honey, Bucky’s hip subtly bumps into yours as you both reach for the spatula. “Sorry!,” you whispers in a hushes tone as Bucky takes a few steps back, careful not to break the proverbial glass cage surrounding you, distancing you from him.
“What are we making?,” you ask gingerly while Bucky starts to add eggs to the mixture.
“White chocolate honeycomb mud cake,” Bucky smiles as his eyes light up like a Christmas tree. I still have a lot of chocolate left and your dad brought me a jar of honey last week from your aunt’s bee hives. But since I don’t really eat honey…”
Humming while you pour the honey bit by bit, your fingertips caresses Bucky’s hand while he stirs the batter of the cake. “I love honey, it’s so sweet. I could finish that jar all by myself in just one day.”
“You’ve always had a big sweet tooth, Y/N. I recall a time when I had added too much sweetener to the carrot cake I’d made for the town fair. Because everybody wanted to be polite, they finished their piece but they never came back for a second one. So I had made all this cake and people only ate one fourth of it. But then you walked by and decided you wanted to taste for yourself if it was as horribly sweet as people said it was.”
“And I ended up eating half of what was left because I loved it so much,” you laugh happily in remembrance. “Fall came early that year and Peggy had decided to pay us a visit. Wade had just left for Los Angeles and she noticed how much I was hurting, so she dragged me to the town fair. She made me try everything, from the disgusting vegan cookies that wannabe cheerleader Maria made to that old lady’s chicken broth. But then I tried your carrot cake and just knew that this was the best thing I’d ever eat in my entire life.”
“You still remember that day? It was long before Sharon introduced us.”
In all the giddiness that the memory inspires in you, the filter keeping your thoughts at bay slowly dissipates while you’re reminiscing. “Of course I still remember that day,” you confirm with a hearty chuckle, “I couldn’t keep my eyes off the handsome brunet near the willow tree with his carrot cake and his adorable puppy dog eyes.”
It’s as if Bucky’s heart is being ripped from his chest. All this time, you’ve been dancing around each other, both afraid to make a move. But not anymore, even though your words still resonate harshly in his heart, he has to kiss you. He has to make sure he kisses you now or all will be lost. He’s still got a shot, he knows it and wants to seize it before your self-destructive and overly protective nature bombards the entire thing.
He drops the spatula and takes the spoon of honey from you, cupping your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours in adamant desire. Yet Bucky doesn’t kiss you with lust or passion, rather with moderation and above all, adoration. And the moment your lips lock, he starts to overflow your system, pushing just the right buttons to make you yield.
Nonetheless, the kiss is different from before in various ways. A kiss from teenage Bucky is cautious and clumsy yet feverish and keen for your touch. But a kiss from adult Bucky is confident and calm yet soft and sweet. His eyes bore into yours with a loving intensity when your lips part. “I love you,” are the only three words he leaves hovering over you like the sword of Damocles. “And I know you love me, too.”
“Wade is right, we have to talk. So let me tell you what’s going to happen,” he continues after another longing kiss. “We’re going to put this cake in the oven and then we’re going to kiss some more and make up.”
Tagging: @avengerofyourheart @a-little-hell-to-raise @marvelingatthewonder @mrshopkirk @hardcorehippos @knittingknerdy @winterboobaer @italwaysendsinafightt @viollettes @hymnofthevalkyrie @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @austinamelio @volklana @howlingbarnes @themcuhasruinedme @theoneandonlysaucymo @caplansteverogers @amrita31199 @emilyevanston @minervaem @howlingbarnes @buchananbarnestrash @youandb @you-and-bucky @fvckingsteverogers @thatawkwardtinyperson @barnes-heaven @that-sokovian-bastard @abovethesmokestacks @marvelrevival @marvel-fanfiction @justanotherbuckydevotee @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky @buckyywiththegoodhair @captnbarnesrogers @its-not-a-phase-hux @melconnor2007 @ivvitm1109 @toofuckinfabulous @ailynalonso15 @hollycornish @delicatecapnerd @camigt1999 @learisa @curlyexpat @palaiasaurus64 @fanndas-snow-goddess @crisssivonne @yourenotrogers @tomhollandzs @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep @aletheladyinred @bhuckys @xbergiex @reniescarlett @promarvelfangirl @capbuckybuchanan @lovemarvelousfics @yknott81 @rrwilson66 @pegasusdragontiger @salty-holographic-stickers @sammyissassy @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @kudosia @bellejeunefillesansmerci @lumelgy @mizzzpink @southernbellestatues @daringtodreamawake @neurotic-narwhal @cokamarie24 @blue1928 @movingonto-betterthings @breezy1415 @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for @jesspfly @weenie-butt @debzybrazy @fuckingchaotic @always-an-evans-addict @petersunderroos @thegreentgirl @nedthegay @eve1978 @yourtropegirl @4theluvofall @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @pineapplebooboo @curvybihufflepuff @thefridgeismybestie @supernatural508 @supernaturaldean67 @ssweet-empowerment @cant-decide-at-this-moment
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