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solomonish · 3 years

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say my name like it’s a bad word (solomon x reader)

sometimes, when Solomon hears others speak his name, it feels more like they're spewing curses than addressing him.

ao3 link: here!

I. Anger

He could see the peak rising above the horizon much sooner than he could the day before. That pleased him - though he wouldn’t let those graciously lending him their powers know.

As he walked into his unfinished temple, he had to dodge a few of his flying demons who passive-aggressively swooped too close to his head. He enjoyed the noise the solid ground made beneath his feet, opposed to the soft earth outside the entrance. With a purposely blank expression, Solomon strode over to a corner of the temple, where one of his more outspoken pacts stomped down clay.

Asmodeus looked up at him as he approached, his brows furrowing. If he wasn’t already out of breath from the strenuous work Solomon had ordered him to do, he probably would have groaned loud enough to halt the progress around him. His hair, stuck to his brow with sweat, still managed to look perfect and keep its style. Keeping his voice level, Solomon said as much.

“Oh, thank you!” Asmodeus chirped, wiping away his frustration for a moment to flash a faux grin. “Honestly, for someone like me, it’s hardly a feat to maintain such exquisite looks, but I certainly appreciate you noticing!”

“Someone like you…..” Solomon responded, trailing off as he held his chin in thought. Asmodeus, bound by the command of his pact, kept stomping the clay beneath him, but his upper half seemed completely at ease. There was a sudden fluidity to his movements, one that always warned Solomon to up his guard and covertly cast some safeguards against Asmo’s charms.

“Yes, someone like me! The most bewitching creature in all the realms - but surely, you don’t need a reminder of that,” Adding a purr beneath his words, Asmo leaned forward. Something glinted in his eyes as they slowly bled into a fuchsia hue, and Solomon felt a faint tug at the spell he just cast. “You know, I wouldn’t mind reminding you in other ways. Surely, this has been a test to show how much energy I truly have?”

Solomon perked up, and he could see Asmodeus rejoice, certain his plan had worked. “Really? After all of this, you still have energy?”

“Of course!”

With a hum, Solomon let his hand fall from his chin and smiled sweetly at the demon before him. The pact mark on his hip tingled lightly, a side-effect of the new method of command he was testing out. “Very well. I’ll double your quota and, naturally, expect you to exceed my expectations in a day’s time.”

“What-” His eyes widened and jaw dropped for just a second, wondering both how his plan had been foiled so quickly and how Solomon managed to command him with zero authority in his voice. Against his will, Asmodeus’ stomping quickened, forcing him to lose his theatrics and focus his entire being on his task. “Solomon!” He shouted indignantly, the only word he could get out before his pact holder turned and walked away.

II. Formality

“Solomon,” the voice said, a stiffness around its edges. Stopping in his tracks, Solomon had to squint in the shadows to even see the sorcerer he was meeting. In his opinion, hiding in the shadows beside the comically large bookshelf was a bit overkill for their meeting. While technically a forbidden one, Solomon was confident that, if caught, he would be able to leave unscathed.

"Irin," Solomon returned, hoping his own casual tone would ease away that stifling formality in his acquaintence's voice. "You said you needed to meet with me?"

Tentatively, like a distrusting stray cat, Irin stepped out from the shadows while peering down both ends of the hallway. They were ever the cautious soul, though it stung to see that hesitancy aimed at himself. "Keep your voice down. We don't want to get caught."

Solomon raised an eyebrow. "Why could we not have met elsewhere, then?"

"I only just found it. I wanted to make sure I could hand it to you in person before I found out why you were banished."

The glare Irin leveled him in had his heart sinking. Perhaps hoping that word of his fallout had yet to spread - or that he would not be held in contempt for accusations he could never address or recover from - was too big an ambition, even for Solomon. But the shadowed leaders of the Sorcerer's Society were prone to gossip. That was,after all, part of what demanded such secrecy in this rendezvous.

Glancing down, Solomon saw Irin handing his wand over to him, his lips grimly pressed together in a thin line. Ah, so that's why I couldn’t find it. The drama of the past few weeks had been enough to scramble his mind, and in the chaos of his banishment, Solomon must have dropped his wand as he was forced out. That, or it was stolen and he was never meant to have it back in his possession. Ah, well. Why bother with the semantics of rules he was no longer bound by?

Without a word, Solomon took the wand and tucked it in his waistband,, hidden behind his cloak. To see such solemnity in the exchange of such a ridiculous thing would have been a humorous sight if the atmosphere were lighter. But the air around them hung heavy, heavy enough to have Solomon itching just beneath his skin and craving an exit. As much as the thought hurt when it struck, he realized that there was no call for niceties or a proper goodbye. The icy glare he was leveled in wouldn’t be remedied with an amicable goodbye.

As Solomon made his way down the hall, a second pair of footsteps that were far too light to be Irin’s approached from behind him. He didn’t bother to cast a glance behind him to see who it might be - whoever it was didn’t want to see him, and Solomon was quickly losing interest in the affairs of the society in their entirety.

III. Distrust

��But is that really a good idea?”

“Do you not agree?”

Two voices floated down the corridor as Solomon approached, one like a softly tinkling bell and the other deep and soothing. It seemed that his two companions had started the conversation without him. Either that, or he was hearing part of a conversation that was never meant for his ears.

“It isn’t that, it’s more…” The lighter voice trailed off for a moment. “Are we sure it’s best to throw a newborn lamb in with lions who know far more than they do? Even ignoring how they’d be your only true subject of this exchange program, wouldn’t they have more luck bonding with someone as familiar with this world as they were?”

“Two humans who have no idea what is going on wandering the Devildom? That isn’t the best idea I’ve heard,” Solomon interrupted as he rounded the corner. He had no interest in eavesdropping on a conversation for information he was owed, anyway. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Diavolo reassured, uncrossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. He gestured towards the assortment of small pastries and tea on the table between the three of them while Simeon picked up his own cup, if only to have something to focus on.

“Nice to see you, Solomon,” Simeon answered cheerily, masterfully hiding the suspicion Solomon knew should be biting at the greeting. Biting the inside of his cheek, Solomon held back any questions he had of Simeon trying to butt him out of the Diavolo’s project. Instead, he nodded in a silent ’nice to see you, too,’ and made himself comfortable on the unoccupied chair in the room.

“Now,” Diavolo started, ignoring the chill hovering in the air, “How are we feeling about this exchange program?”

IV. Annoyance

An indignant shriek filled the dorm as a menacing cloud of violet smoke rose from the pot. Luke watched it in horror, jumping back as the sparks started to fly out of the pan.

“What did you just do?” He yelled. Solomon merely watched in awe, impressed at the show he had created and completely shutting out Luke’s exasperated yapping. Perhaps such marvelling should have waited, because he couldn’t hear the panicked shouts as some of the sparks fell on the ends of his cloak. It took the brunt of Luke’s bodyweight as he pushed Solomon out of the line of literal fire and ran to get the fire extinguisher to snap him out of his daze.

Glancing at the bottom of his cloak, Solomon sighed and snapped his fingers, putting out the fire immediately. Begrudgingly removing the cloak of his shoulders, he lifted the hem to eye level and mourned his loss silently. Moments later, Luke came barreling in the room, letting loose with the fire extinguisher without even looking to see if there was still a flame.

When he was convinced that the fire was out, Luke held Solomon in his best attempt at an upset glare. He ended up looking more like a slightly upset puppy, but Solomon knew when to hold his tongue around the young angel. “Solomon, I told you to stay out of the kitchen! What part of that translated to you as ‘come add ingredients to the pot’?”

Before Solomon could make things worse in his attempt at a defense, Simeon walked in the room, looking like the most graceful being in the world. With his current company, though, it wasn’t such an accomplishment. “Now, now. I’m sure Solomon just wanted to help, right Luke?”

Luke didn’t look convinced, but the practiced smile on Simeon was a clear indication that he should agree. “Yeah, I guess.”

Gently guiding Luke out of the room, Simeon gave that same smile to Solomon. “And he will help by cleaning up this mess while we grab some more ingredients for dinner, right?”

“Yes.”

“Great!”

With that, Simeon ushered Luke out of the room. When they stopped to grab their jackets, Solomon heard Luke whisper, “I thought you were watching him, Simeon.”

Unlike his roommates, Solomon had the wisdom to wait until he heard the door shut to sigh in displeasure.

V. Contempt

At this point, Solomon wasn’t sure whether his repeated showdowns with Lucifer were proving his tenacity and value or deepening the hatred that seemed to run between them.

Still, it was unusual for Lucifer to summon for Solomon in the middle of class, only to stare at him in silence as Solomon fought the instinctive urge to shift where he stood before him. The student council room was empty, save for the spread out papers on the table in front of Lucifer and the two of them. It wasn’t often that Solomon felt unnerved, and certainly not by Lucifer after he heard your tales of how he behaved at home, but that was the closest word he could think of to describe how he felt.

“I needn’t remind you of the perils the Devildom has to offer?” Lucifer asked, his voice cold as ice. “I am not pleased with the state in which you brought MC back the other day.”

What, in once piece? Solomon had to bite his tongue. Lucifer really thought he could lecture his way out of everything, didn’t he? “I apologize,” He lied. Then, more truthfully, “If I could have brought them back with no injuries, I would have.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes, weaving his fingers together in thought and resting his elbows on the table. “If you are to be so irresponsible, perhaps I should put a stop to these outings?”

The indignation burning in Solomon’s gut made him grimace; he hated feeling like a child, but Lucifer had a way of belittling everyone that way. His protests all sounded like an upset teen arguing with their parents - They were only scrapes and bruises! It was an accident! You can’t dictate everything MC does with their time. You can’t dictate anything I do with mine! - but he held them all back. “I will make sure MC does not get hurt next time they are in my care.”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed red, and Solomon suddenly understood why the horror movies of his realm used that as an indication of evil. “Of course you will. But a little incentive wouldn’t hurt.”

With that, Lucifer stood from his seat, towering over Solomon by at least a foot. He wasn’t in his demon form - RAD rules to accommodate the exchange students - but he didn’t need to. Solomon could feel the threatening aura around him, promises of the harm that would come to him if he went against Lucifer’s wishes surrounding the two like the wind in a firestorm.

This was where Lucifer always lost Solomon’s interest. He wasn’t able to be threatened by promises Lucifer was always too busy to fulfill.

“You may not have much of a life to gamble, Solomon,” Lucifer hissed, and the only indication Solomon gave of his flinch was one quick blink, “but MC is not yours to toy with. Remember that.”

Unwilling to back down in their staring match, Solomon kept his mouth wired shut for a few moments. Lucifer, living up to his sin, also refused to back down, and Solomon realized it was a losing battle.

“I have to get back to class,” Solomon lied again, and they both knew it. But there were no more words to share between them, so Solomon left it at that.

VI. Affection

Hearing his name come from your mouth like that gave him the same sensation of watching someone put a piece of a cactus in their mouth.

You hadn’t even entered his room yet. The moment you entered the dorm, you called out his name, stretching out the last syllable in a sing-song voice. He could hear the rustle of plastic bags, the ingredients for his latest cooking lesson tucked inside. When you knocked on the doorframe to his room, he didn’t answer, and you peeked inside to see him staring directly at you with a dumbstruck expression on his face.

“Are...you okay?” You asked, not truly concerned. It was enough to quickly snap him back to reality, and he tried to play off his surprise with a smile. You stopped him from speaking before he even had a chance to tell you he was fine. “Don’t give me any crap. What was that look for?”

How could he express what he was thinking without sounding entirely unbecoming? “It’s...just weird to hear my name said like that.”

“What, to the tune of the Devildom’s next hit of the summer?” Your cheeky grin did nothing to hide your arrogance. Solomon only hummed, standing from his desk and stretching his arms above his head.

Realizing he wasn’t going to explain himself any further, you led him to the kitchen and explained the dinner you had planned. He listened halfheartedly, rummaging through the bag to eye the ingredients suspiciously. It all looked so...predictable. Boring. He was already connecting ideas to add his own pizzazz to the dish.

“Are you going to yell at me when I mess it up?” He asked in an attempt at jest. Something in his tone was off, though, and it sounded much more like a genuine question. Uncomfortably clearing his throat, Solomon avoided your confused gaze. “I mean-”

“Have Simeon and Luke been on your case about your cooking again?” You asked. He could practically hear your exasperation at their antics, and almost jumped to their defense. They were angels. Confronting people directly about their shortcomings wasn’t their strong suit. “I promise, I will not yell at you. Seriously. I will, however, whip you into shape with this spoon.”

To prove your point, you picked up a wooden spoon and hit him on the arm. Your own strength surprised you, however, and the sharp snap that sounded through the room made you freeze in your spot. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry-”

With a grin that could only be described as shit-eating, Solomon burst into theatrics, bemoaning his injured arm and worrying over how dark the bruise would definitely be. In between your apologizes and insistences that you didn’t hit him that hard, you tried to place a gentle kiss where you hit him. He made sure to pull away, swearing he could never trust you again after you’ve hurt him so severely.

He decided then that hearing his name interrupted with your laugh was the best way to hear it.

#tagging this on ao3 was kinda hard because #gonna be honest #a whole lotta nothing happens here LOL #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #swd obey me #obey me solomon #swd solomon #solomon #solomon fics #mine #solomon fluff #solomon x reader

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jackies-wearing-khakis · 4 years

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Marriage and Murder Pt. 2 (Shelby!Reader)

Part One

words: 3001

warnings: Drinking and violence.

You managed to find Polly, who was drinking alone at one of the tables.

"You look like you're having a good night," she said sarcastically as you sat down next to her. Instead of responding, you finally gave in to your cravings and drank some of the wine you'd poured earlier.

"Spit it out, (y/n), what's wrong?" your aunt said, glancing over at you.

"Cavalry boys," you mumbled, and Polly gave you a knowing look.

"You shouldn't worry about them. Those boys are just as unhappy here as you are." Polly remarked.

Rather than make you feel better, Polly's words stung like a knife. You could feel tears forming in your eyes as you took another sip of wine. She immediately took notice of your state and scooted her chair closer to yours.

"𝘖𝘩, 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦." she said gently. "Come on, I didn't mean to upset you.

"Am I a bitch, Pol?" you sniffed, dabbing your eyes with a napkin.

"Who told you that?" she asked with a concerned face.

"Nobody.. I just wanted to know." you lied.

Polly cupped your cheek, wiping away your tears.

"(y/n), listen. There'll always be words for women who don't give men what they want. It's just the way things are." She began.

"How's that supposed to make me feel better?" you questioned.

"It's not. It's up to you to move on, to be the bigger person." she spoke.

You separated yourself from Polly, slumping in your chair.

"I don't want to be a bigger person ." you grumbled.

"Well, if it'll take your mind off things, I have a favor to ask," Polly spoke. You looked up at her curiously.

"I haven't seen Michael all night. Would you find him and bring him here?" Polly asked.

"What do you want him for?" you questioned. Polly's face turned serious.

"I want to make sure he's not doing anything he shouldn't." she answered quite bluntly.

"𝘞𝘩𝘺? He's an adult, he can handle himself." you noted.

"I won't ask again, (y/n). Find him or I will." Polly warned. You couldn't help but notice her defensive tone.

"Fine." you sighed, and forced yourself up.

You'd spent nearly half an hour trying to spot Michael among the swarms of people that flooded the house, all the while drinking generously from the glass of wine in your hands. It was nearly impossible to travel through the crowded ballroom without running into someone, and the blasting music certainly didn't help. As the alcohol started to affect your brain, you found it harder and harder to avoid running into people.

You stumbled upon John, who was clearly tipsy as he laughed among some of the cavalry boys.

"(y/n)!" he called out to you. "Come on, get over here!"

You uncomfortably made your way towards him. You scanned the cavalry boys, making sure William wasn't among them. Luckily, he was nowhere to be seen.

"Have you seen Michael?" you asked over the music.

"Um, yeah, I think so," John replied.

You sighed in relief. 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, someone who could help you.

You shifted closer to John, forcing your way past a few people.

"Last I heard Michael was downstairs. That's probably where you'll find him."

You started to make your way towards the stairs when John grabbed your arm. You turned around to face him.

"You all right? You've got a sour face."

"It's been a shitty night." you griped.

"Here, take this. You look like you need it," he said and gave you his flask. You accepted it cautiously, fully aware of your dizzy state.

"But, Tommy said-"

"Fuck Tommy." John interrupted. "You can handle yourself."

You took the flask and smiled at your brother.

"Thanks," you said softly.

"Don't mention it. Now, hurry up and find Michael." he ordered, pushing you into the crowd.

You were surprised at how quickly it got quiet once you'd made your way downstairs.

𝘕𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘔𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘭'𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, you thought.

You found yourself in the middle of a long hallway lined with closed doors. It was almost eerie.

"Michael?" you called. "Michael, it's me (y/n)!"

You could hear muffled noises from behind one of the walls. You got closer and pressed your ear to the door. Sure enough, you could make out Michael's voice coming from the other side of the wall.

"Michael, Pol wants to talk to you!" you shouted, banging at the door.

The noises went silent. You could hear some rustling.

"𝘔𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘭?"

Suddenly, the door opened just wide enough for you to see Michael's face and nothing more. He didn't seem pleased to see you.

"What do you want?" he spat.

"Pol sent me to fetch you. She wants you to come upstairs," you answered plainly, just barely starting to slur your words.

Michael looked at you with a suspicious face.

"Hold on, 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬?" he asked.

"𝘕𝘰!" you protested. "Why would you think that?"

There was a moment of awkward silence as you remembered you were quite literally holding a flask in your hand.

"You're shit liar, (y/n)."

"Okay, fine, I've had a bit to drink." you admitted.

"Whatever, tell Pol I'm busy." He spoke, then tried to close the door on you. You put your leg in the doorway, keeping him from shutting you out.

"Doing 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵?" you asked, peeking into the room. You could see a young woman sitting on the couch, zipping up her dress. She immediately noticed you and waved awkwardly.

"𝘖𝘩," you breathed, waving back awkwardly.

Michael groaned and forced you out of the doorway. He stepped forward and closed the door behind him.

"Listen, (y/n), just tell Pol I went home. I'll talk to her tomorrow." Michael explained. He seemed anxious to get back to whatever he was doing.

"What am I supposed to tell her? She's already kind of angry at me."

Just as Michael was about to respond, he was interrupted by the sound of a crash coming from the kitchens.

"What was that?" you gulped.

"Go back upstairs, (y/n). Don't come down here again." Michael warned

"𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵, but what am I supposed to say-" you turned to ask your cousin, but by the time you'd turned around he'd shut the door on you, leaving you alone in the hallway.

"𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵," you whispered.

You walked slowly towards the kitchen, your drunken curiosity getting the better of you. As you got closer and closer you could hear pots and pans crashing against each other. It sounded like fighting. 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 fighting.

You'd realized the noises weren't actually coming from the kitchen, but rather the pantry where most of the dishes were kept. You stood as close to the doorway as you could get without being seen.

"This 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 place." you heard a voice say, followed by more thuds and crashes. To your horror, you realized it was Arthur who stood on the other side of the wall. A mere 5 feet away from you, your eldest brother was beating the living shit out of some poor man

You covered your mouth with your hand, praying to God that they wouldn't hear your muffled breathing. After a chilling moment of silence, you heard the click of a gun.

"Please.. 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 o𝘧 𝘎𝘰𝘥." a man in a thick Russian accent begged. There was no response.

"𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘎𝘰𝘥, 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘵." the Russian man's voice was trembling.

"Arthur, wait!" you shouted, stumbling into the room. It was too late. Arthur had pulled the trigger, shooting the Russian man in the head and splattering you with blood. You barely had a second to scream before he pointed the gun at you.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" he fumed, and you panicked.

"𝘍𝘜𝘊𝘒!" you yelled, looking down at Esme's blood-stained dress. You whimpered in utter shock.

Arthur suddenly realized who it was, grabbing a pot and throwing it angrily. You flinched.

"𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵." he hissed and made his way towards you. You stepped back hesitantly.

"It's okay.. just 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘹," Arthur spoke, trying to calm you down. He walked towards you slowly and grabbed your shoulders comfortingly.

"I'm okay." you mumbled.

Arthur got a good look at you. You were an absolute wreck; there was blood splattered all over you. There was no way you'd be able to salvage the dress.

"𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬. You can't go upstairs like this. I'll have to drive you home."

"Kaledin something," you mumbled, gesturing towards the dead man lying in front of you.

"You knew him?" Arthur asked as gently as he could manage.

"Just his name."

"Don't worry about it, just.. go and get yourself cleaned up."

Luckily, there was a servant's bathroom just a few rooms down from where you were. You braced yourself before looking in the mirror, afraid of what you might see. The blood on your face had already begun to dry by the time you'd worked up the courage to see your own reflection, making it near impossible to get yourself clean. You tried scrubbing your face with water, then a towel. In the end, it was futile. The faint red stains on your face refused to wash out.

You'd had even less luck cleaning your dress. Getting the material wet only seemed to spread the stains, making the entire thing more noticeable. Your heart sank as you tried to think of things to tell Esme; it really was a beautiful dress.

You eventually gave up trying to clean yourself off. Arthur, being considerate, had brought you a coat you could wear over your dress. It was a bit loose on you, but better an oversized coat than a bloody dress.

Your drunken state had taken a turn for the worse as you struggled to ignore a painful, throbbing headache. You'd wandered away from Arthur, deciding you needed some fresh air. Trying to get through the ballroom was utter hell. You kept knocking into people, praying that they wouldn't turn to face you. At one point you'd run into one of the caterers and spilled the drink he'd been carrying on a tray. He'd looked you in the eye, ready to tell you off when he noticed the stains on your face. You could only look down and walk away in embarrassment.

Your only comfort was drinking excessively from the flask John had given you, and even that had its consequences. You'd only made it a few feet out of the house before throwing up into bushes.

"(y/n), are you okay?" you heard a voice ask you from behind. You looked up to see Ada walking towards you with a concerned face.

"Just peachy." you groaned.

Ada crouched down next to you, rubbing your back soothingly.

"Listen, I've been meaning to talk to you." she began. You were surprised at how difficult it was to focus on her words.

"What?" you asked, preparing yourself for whatever she had to say.

"Well, Pol told me you'd had some trouble with the cavalry boys"

"𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬." you whimpered, burying your head in your hands.

"It's okay, you're not in trouble." Ada assured. "I just wanted to know if you were feeling any better."

"I'm dizzy." you winced.

"I think you've had too much to drink," she suggested.

"Something like that."

Once she made sure you were able to stand, Ada got up and brushed herself off.

"I'm going to bed now, and I think you should come with me." she spoke.

"I'm not tired." you whined.

"(y/n), 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. You need rest."

"No!" you protested as Ada stooped down to grab you.

"𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯." she coaxed, pulling you up. You were far too exhausted to physically struggle, giving in to her persuasions. Thankfully, it was too dark out to see the stains on your face.

You refused to go back into the ballroom, so Ada had to walk you around the side of the house. You clung to her like a lifeline, all the while rambling incoherently.

"What am I going to tell Esme?" you cried, resting your head on your sister's shoulder.

"I'm sure she won't mind." Ada replied, having no idea what you were talking about.

You and Ada had almost made it to the front door when you were stopped by Tommy, of all people. You could immediately tell he was angry.

"Where the 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 have you been?" he spat, wasting no time in chewing you out.

"Okay, Tom, just 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘹." Ada said, stepping in.

"Pol's been looking everywhere for you, you know. Nobody's seen you in 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴!" Tommy shouted, ignoring Ada's advice.

"Arthur's seen me." you noted, rubbing your head.

"That's impossible." he scoffed.

"No it's not." you objected. "Anyone could've walked into the kitchens."

You gave Tom a grave look as he suddenly realized the gravity of the situation. He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't find the words.

"See, Tom? She's not making any sense. There's no use talking to her if she's drunk." Ada chimed in.

"Could I talk to you in private?" Tommy said under his breath, grabbing Ada's arm.

"I really should be getting (y/n) to bed-"

"It'll only take a minute." he assured, but his voice was tense. He still hadn't broken eye contact with you.

Tommy pulled Ada into the house, leaving you alone once again. It was unexpectedly difficult to keep yourself balanced without your sister's support.

You were alone for all of 30 seconds before deciding to wander off. It was a tremendous effort to stay upright as you stumbled through the gardens. You didn't know the time, but you could tell it was late. It'd been hours since anyone had used the race track, and what few men were left in the boxing area were embarrassingly drunk.

𝘚𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳, you thought, remembering Tommy's speech in the kitchens.

Drawn by the commotion, you walked closer to the men in the ring. Your eyes landed on a boxer that seemed particularly familiar; a tall, scrawny boy with a killer right hook.

"𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘯?" you called, and the boy immediately reacted. His head turned away from his opponent to face you.

"(𝘺/𝘯)?" he responded, just seconds before being knocked in the jaw.

Finn keeled over as the man he'd been fighting lost his balance and toppled over. Some of the men around the square burst out laughing as you hurried over to check on your brother.

"I'm okay, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺." Finn assured as you inspected his face. He'd been fighting all night, and it showed. There were bruises all around his eyes and nose and at least three cuts on his lip.

"𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴." you breathed.

You and Finn had wandered off from the gardens and towards the rolling hills that surrounded Tommy's estate. Together you'd walked nearly half a mile before realizing you were both exhausted. Thus, you found yourselves lying comfortable in the grass, facing each other as you spoke.

"Is it really that bad?" Finn asked, feeling around his face

"You look dangerous," you replied. "Like you've been in a fight."

"But I have been in a fight." he corrected.

"It was a joke, Finn."

“Oh.”

You smiled to yourself as Finn buried his face in his hands and sighed. He sat up and pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting a match as he stuck one in his mouth.

"Are you drunk, Finn?" you asked suddenly.

"Are 𝘺𝘰𝘶 drunk?" he responded, his voice muffled by the cigarette in his mouth.

"God, I'm 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥." you giggled.

"𝘔𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰!" Finn gushed, and for the first time that night you were laughing.

"I know we weren't supposed to drink,'' you said between chuckles. "But honestly.. what did Tom expect? 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 was plastered."

"𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦." Finn agreed.

"Not just that.. tonight's been 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥. " you drawled.

"𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸!" he agreed. "You know, Tommy's been pissed off all night.

"He 𝘩𝘢𝘴 been aggressive." you noted.

"Yeah, well you know what I found out? He's got business with the Russians. Fucking 𝘙𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘴."

You immediately felt yourself tense up as Finn blathered on about some duchess you'd never heard of. In an attempt to get him to stop talking, you grabbed Finn's arm and looked him in the eye.

"You want to know something insane?" you spoke in a hushed voice.

"Yeah, tell me."

"Arthur killed a Russian in the kitchen," you whispered. "I was there, I saw it."

"Kaledin?" He asked.

"Kaledin." you assured.

Finn separated himself from you, then took a second to contemplate.

"You're lying. He'd never do it in the house."

"I'm not!" you whined.

"Prove it then."

You rolled your eyes before unbuttoning the coat Arthur had given you. Finn's eyes widened in shock as you revealed Esme's bloody dress.

"𝘖𝘩." he breathed.

"Told you." you huffed.

There was an uncomfortable silence as you buttoned the coat back up.

"𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺?" Finn asked.

You took a second to answer, not quite sure what to say.

"Honestly, I don't know." you admitted. "I think I'm in shock, maybe."

"It'll stick with you." he spoke. "At least, that's been my experience."

You gave Finn a sympathetic look as he took another puff of his cigarette, the familiar smell of tobacco now having filled the air.

You could feel your eyelids getting heavier as you noticed the red glow of sunrise barely peeking out from the horizon.

"It's late." you whispered.

"It's early." Finn corrected.

"Do you think we're still kids?" you asked abruptly, still staring into the sky.

"What do you mean?"

You turned to face Finn, taking a second to look him in the eye before answering.

"Do you think, at the age we're at, we still count as kids?" you spoke.

"Does it matter?" he questioned.

"It matters to me."

Finn took one last puff of his dying cigarette before putting it out and dropping it back in his pocket

"We're in between, I think." Finn answered as honestly as he could. "Almost adults."

"𝘈𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘴." you whispered to yourself. "I like that."

It didn't take long for you to give into your exhaustion, sleeping under the stars in true Gypsy fashion.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #shelby!reader #shelby!sister #shelby sis #shelby reader #shelby sister #arthur shelby #thomas shelby #john shelby #ada shelby #finn shelby #polly gray #michael gray

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas · 3 years

Note

Okay so Sooga can't cook. But can Master Kohga cook? And would he try to teach Sooga, for a bit of domestic fluff goodness??

Imma make this as fluffy as I can for you, anon! I’m gonna be SUPER busy, so some asks will probably be on the back burner. Having said that, Imma dip into these when I can because you guys have SUCH good ideas??

Also It’s not that Sooga can’t cook, he just can’t cook WELL. Stuff is always off with his cooking. Too salty, too sweet, undercooked, SOMETHING. Kohga is picky so he notices. Either way, let’s GO!

“Urbosa! Get over here!”

Kohga (as well as the champions) had been spending all day together in the kitchen (upon prompting from Zelda), and Kohga had more or less commanded the cooking area. When Kohga wasn’t busy killing people or sleeping, he was being a rather pleasant company to have around. He started off by making drinks, and Sooga offered to help. Which was apparently a bit of a mistake. Urbosa sighed as she left the table, and walked behind the counter. Kohga motioned to two cups.

“You try one, and tell me which one has alcohol in it.”

Urbosa tried one, then another, lightly shaking her head.

“One on the left? Right one tastes just like juice.”

Kohga motioned wildly to the cups, as if they made a scientific discovery.

“Ha! See, that’s the thing! BOTH do! Somehow!”

“I...don’t put enough alcohol, that’s the hint I’m getting.”

“No matter how many times I shove MY dick in THAT ass, he makes drinks like a FUCKING virgin! You know what, get a fucking apron on, I’m teaching you how to be competent in the kitchen. You can’t JUST have a top notch cock, you dumbshit.”

Kohga turned around to get them both an apron, and Urbosa chuckled at his puzzled reaction.

“Hey, he does have a point. Everyone should learn how to cook. Besides, him being this upset just means he really loves you.”

“Don’t you DARE make me out to be mushy, Urbosa!”

Kohga walked back up to them, throwing a pink apron at Sooga’s face. Urbosa chuckled as Kohga put his own on. It was clear she was right, but the relationship was still new to him, so he was still in denial of his feelings. Urbosa grabbed one of the drinks (Kohga’s, obviously), and shrugged.

“I’ll just be taking this then, carry on love birds.”

Kohga lifted a finger to retort, before Urbosa turned around and joined Daruk back at the table. Kohga waved her off, muttering something under his breath. Sooga couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re just charming, Master Kohga.”

“Save the sweet for the cooking, tits mcgee.”

Kohga patted his left tit, before going to the sink and washing his hands, Sooga following suit.

“So? What will we be making?”

“Good question. What do you WANT to make?”

“Hmm...what’s something YOU like?”

“Kiss ass.”

Kohga chuckled, drying his hands with a towel. Sooga honestly just lived for Kohga, and it was terribly sweet of him.

“Alright, let’s do crepes with fried bananas.”

Sooga nodded, more than confident enough to prove himself. Kohga dug into the cabinets to grab everything (with help from Sooga. Tall bastard), before Kohga put two bowls in front of them.

“Now, follow me. We’re gonna add a cup of the tabantha flour. Then, a tablespoon of sugar.”

“I always thought it was a cup of both.”

“No wonder you always burn those fuckers- that much sugar burns it, you dumbshit. Now, not everyone does this, but they SHOULD. Add some salt, help balance out. If you think a food doesn’t need SOME salt, you’re wrong.”

Sooga nodded along, carefully listening and following his instructions, as if this was a training session.

“How did you learn all this?”

“Mom taught me. She loved cooking, but she worked hard, so sometimes she was too tired to cook. When I got older, I ended up doing the cooking around the house. You only get better the more you do it. Except YOUR drinks, you’re hopeless.”

“Like my love for you.”

“Iean down, imma smack you upside the head.”

Sooga chuckled, watching his little master grumble to himself. Kohga took out another bowl, and added milk, as well as an egg.

“Now. You mix the wet and the dry together.”

“Why not just do it all together to begin with?”

“Lumps, you get lots of ‘em if you do that.”

Sooga nodded, watching as Kohga mixed the ingredients in their separate bowls. Sooga could watch Kohga cook all day, if he let him. Sooga copied Kohga as they mixed the dry and wet together, whisking it till it was nice and liquidy.

“It’s supposed to be this liquidy?”

“Yeah, any thicker and it’s a pancake. Now, we’re gonna put this in the fridge for as long as we can, get some flavor out of it.”

“What do we do while we wait?”

Sooga took the bowls, and put them in the fridge, just in time to catch Kohga grabbing bananas and putting them on a cutting board.

“We prep everything else. This should be easy for you. I need you to cut all these in little squares. And listen to me while I show you what I’m doing, but be careful.”

“Afraid I’ll cut myself?”

Sooga grinned as he peeled the bananas, starting to cut. One thing Sooga was VERY good at in the kitchen, was cutting. Always clean, always uniform. Kohga dug into the bag of sugar that he had at his side, and tossed a bit towards Sooga’s apron. Wasteful? A bit, but Sooga’s dumb smile was getting on his nerves.

“If you don’t, at this point I will. Now, I’m gonna throw some butter in this pan, and we’re gonna add the bananas here soon as you’re done. This, and some whipped cream, is gonna be our filling.”

“Doesn’t it burn if it’s hot?”

“If you actually know how it works, no.”

Sooga was careful not to cut himself as he watched Kohga throw butter, sugar, and some spices onto the pan. He watched as the sugar browned slightly, and Kohga motioned for Sooga to pour the fruit in. Once it was inside, Kohga handed him the spatula.

“Now, keep mixing it. Don’t change the temp, don’t let it sit.”

Sooga watched as Kohga grabbed a bag of acorns and chickaloo tree nuts. He cracked them surprisingly effortlessly in his hands, quickly and efficiently separating the shells from the insides. Sooga found it hard to pay attention to the pan, and his Master’s hands. How did hands so soft and lovely make such hard work look so easy?

“Is that going in the batter?”

“No, with the bananas. Adds some crunch, and a little bit of sweet.”

Kohga’s arm pushed against him as he added the nuts to the pan, motioning for Sooga to keep going.

“Now, this is just how I like it, but we’re gonna add a swig of apple juice. Adds a BIT of tart, because this is going to be sweet as hell. Especially since we’re gonna add a touch of rum, to taste.”

“...Master Kohga?”

“Don’t tell me I lost you already, big guy.”

“Just in your eyes, Master Kohga.”

Kohga looked up at him, and reached his hand up, pushing him away a bit.

“You are SO mushy. No wonder you can’t cook right, you’re too busy ogling me all damn day.”

“You make it quite hard to focus.”

He chuckled. He kept mixing, as he was instructed. Kohga added butter to the pan, shaking his head at Sooga’s stupidity. He was just, such a lovestruck idiot. Once the butter started to lightly bubble, Kohga dug into the fridge, bringing out the batter.

“Okay, let’s start the important part. You can turn that off, cover it with the pot lid. I’m gonna let you do the first one. Three tablespoons into the pan.”

Kohga gave him the proper pouring tool, and Sooga obeyed. He was about to ask what to do next, when Kohga held onto his hand, helping him turn the pan. Sooga could chuckle like a lovesick fool right now, honestly. He really did have nice, soft hands, and Sooga wanted to hold them forever.

“Tilt to get it everywhere. Nice and slow, get it everywhere. Three minutes, then flip. Anymore and it’s like eating a damn ear. Speaking of ears, are you listening?”

“To every word, Master Kohga. Every single, solitary word.”

Kohga turned to look at him, finally seeing why he sounded more stupid than usual. He was SWOONING. Literally looking at him, and SWOONING like an idiot. Kohga scoffed, flipping the crepe for him.

“Alright, then listen to this. See how it’s got a nice, brown crust? We want it kinda crispy.”

Kohga let Sooga ogle him for three minutes, before finally taking it out of the pan, setting it onto a table.

“Taste it.”

“You?”

“W-no, the crepe you dingbat!”

Even Kohga had to chuckle at that. It’s why Kohga never let his ass watch him cook, it was just. All of this. They split the crepe, and Sooga nodded.

“You’re truly wonderful, Master Kohga. It’s lovely.”

“Good. Now, you’re turn, all by yourself.”

Kohga was going to step back, but Sooga’s puppy dog eyes kept him standing right there. Sooga added the batter to the pan, carefully turning the mixture till it coated the whole pan. He waited the three minutes, before flipping it. Kohga nodded in approval.

“Good crust, good crust. Keep it going.”

And that’s exactly what he did. Kohga sat there, watching his Sooga make crepe after crepe, and Kohga couldn’t help but chuckle. He was constantly asking if it was okay, constantly peering over him for approval. Honestly, if Kohga told this man to get him a piece of the moon, Sooga wouldn’t hesitate to reach for the stars. Soon enough, there wasn’t any mix left, in turn, leaving quite a stack of crepes. Kohga flipped through the stack, nodding.

“Better. Though some are a bit darker than others. We’ll work on that. Now, best part.”

Kohga placed one on the plate, added a hefty dollop of cream and honey, then folded it into a nice triangle like shape. Sooga watched him carefully, clearly wanting it to be perfect. Kohga folded another with cream and honey, then another. His usual was three at a time, but he might just have more (to support Sooga of course). He topped it off with the banana mixture, and dusted it with powdered sugar, just to make it look good. Sooga followed his stead, though he didn’t do it so cleanly. Folding it was hard for him apparently, causing him to get whipped cream all over his fingers, and even on his mask. It was a sloppy plate, but it was Sooga’s plate. Kohga shook his head once he saw the state of Sooga.

“For the love of- get over here, idiot.”

Kohga grabbed a hold of his face, wiping the cream off of his mask. Sooga sat there, letting him do so with such loving eyes. It was totally gross, in a sweet way.

“Master Kohga?”

“If the question is ‘am I an idiot’, then absolutely.”

Sooga chuckled, lightly shaking his head.

“I just...thank you. I enjoy listening to you when you teach. You love what you do, and there’s something so absolutely beautiful about that.”

“Yeah yeah...well. I like teaching you. You’re eager to learn.”

“I’m eager for YOU, Master Kohga.”

“Well geez Sooga, I know I’m pretty sweet, but-”

Before Kohga could finish his retort, Sooga suddenly lifted him off the floor, lifting their masks up a bit, and kissing him, right in his gorgeous lips. Was it a bit much, nearly throwing Kohga onto the counter and leering over him to kiss him? Absolutely, but neither seemed to care in the slightest. Just for a minute, they were there in an embrace, as sweet as sweet could be. Totally ignoring the table of people just a few feet away. Daruk lightly coughed, trying to ignore the fact that Sooga’s tight grip on his Master’s ass was smearing whipped cream everywhere.

“I...don’t think we’re gonna be eatin’ anything any time soon.”

#asks #kohga #sooga #urbosa #listen #Sooga is just #so in love with Kohga #he has in fact #had dreams of Kohga being a lil wife and cooking big meals for his future family #its adorable #he asks for so little

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ravenbrenna09 · 4 years

Text

Jij Verliest - Chapter Four: Clip 7

master list previous

Donderdag 18:45

From the second that his mama opened the door, Robbe could tell that it had been a bad day for her.

To anyone who didn’t know her, Marie IJzermans looked like she was okay, with her bright smile and her hair done up neatly. But her shoulders were slumped and the light behind her eyes was dim. As Robbe moved to help her with dinner, she shooed him away with a little more strength than she might’ve intended, saying over her shoulder, “I’m perfectly capable of doing things myself, Robbe.” Robbe had simply nodded, taking a seat at the table and waiting until she asked for help.

As Robbe watched his mama move around the kitchen, he thought that it was a good thing that Zoë decided not to come this week. Robbe knew that Zoë wouldn’t have minded; she had seen his mama in worser states. She had been bedridden, wrapped with enough blankets to form a literal cocoon, with enough sadness in her bones to last a lifetime. Robbe couldn’t see Senne minding either. When Senne lived in the flatshare, he always asked about her.

But his mama?

She would’ve been so upset with herself.

Whenever Robbe had talked about her meeting Thomas, his mama had been desperate to meet him on a good day. His mama’s worst fear was that she would make a bad impression on his boyfriend. She had been adamant about meeting him on one of her good days and Robbe had promised that they would. Thomas had been patient and understanding. Once they had met, his mama had been relieved that she didn’t “scare him away.”

Robbe knew that she wanted to make a good impression on Senne.

The chair next to him pulled out and his mama sat down next to him. “I’m sorry, Robbe,” she said, reaching out to take his hands. Robbe gripped her hands back tightly. “It’s just been so hard at work lately. Ever since the incident last Friday, Sharon has us working really hard to fix it. She’s doing her best and following procedure, but it’s stressful. And it’s a little hard right now.”

“It’s okay, Mama,” Robbe said. “I understand. You’re doing your best.”

“I know.” His mama sounded defeated. Her shoulders slumped a little as she let out a sigh. “It’s just been rough. It’s a lot of work and we’re trying to play catch up because we’re down a person. But it’s only going to get better.” Robbe nodded. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can talk about the details quite yet.”

“I know,” Robbe said. “But it’ll be okay.”

“Yes,” his mama said, moving to stand up. With a slightly wavy step, she moved to grab the pans from the stove. Robbe hopped on his feet to help her. Even though she tried to shoo him away with one of the hot pads, Robbe grabbed one of the pots, following her back to the kitchen table. “Now, enough about me, how has your week been? I know that your exams are finishing up this week, right?”

“Yeah,” Robbe said. He placed the pot down before moving to grab the two plates from the cabinet. “I’ve just got my last one tomorrow morning.”

“Oh. Have you done enough studying for it?”

“Yes,” he said, sitting down in the chair he abandoned. His mama sat down across from him, taking the plate that he offered. “I might leave a little early so I can go home and study a little more before I go to bed. But I’ve been studying almost all week. So I feel really good about it.”

“That’s great, I’m sure you’ll do amazing,” his mama said, smiling. She turned to the food and started piling green beans on her plate. Once she finished, she handed the small pot over to Robbe, who took it without comment. “Have you done anything else this week or has studying been the majority of your focus?”

Robbe bit down on his lip, trying to fight back the images of his afternoon with Sander. After being interrupted by Thomas, the two of them had leisurely kissed. They had lost track of the time between their kisses, so much that they were both surprised by the door opening. Luckily, Robbe had managed to throw his weight on the door before Milan tried to open it. Sander was laughing on his bed, muffling his laughter in one of his pillows, as Robbe argued with his roommate through the door. Once Sander had to leave, Robbe was only able to sneak Sander out the door when Milan took a shower.

As Sander kissed him beneath the doorframe, he whispered against the shell of Robbe’s ear, “It’s kind of hot being your dirty little secret, Robin.” Robbe had shoved him because he was the furthest thing from it and Sander laughed because he knew. But Robbe pulled him back for one more kiss by the collar of his shirt.

“It’s been the majority of my week, yes,” Robbe said, swallowing.

As he moved to grab the pan from his mama, he spotted the knowing look on her face. His mama’s brown eyes were squinted in his direction and a small smile was tugging on her lips. “What’s that look on your face for?” she asked. Knowing that she would catch him if he spoke, Robbe shook his head. “Don’t try to push it off. I know that look. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Robbe.”

“Okay, okay,” Robbe said. Letting out a breath, Robbe ran a hand through his hair before looking at his mama, who was smiling over at him fondly. Even though the food was cooling, his mama put down her fork and turned to him fully. Robbe let out a breath, a smile pushing up the corners of his lips. “I met someone a few weeks ago and we’re… together now.”

“Really?” his mother asked, smiling.

“Yeah. He came over yesterday and we hung out. But he’s been really insistent on me studying for my exams so we haven’t met up a lot.”

His mother turned to him. There was a serious look on her face as she leaned closer to him. Once again, his mama took Robbe’s hands in her own and squeezed tightly. Then, she looked him in the eye and asked, “He makes you happy, right?”

Robbe nodded. “Yes, Mama,” Robbe said. To his ears, it sounded like a confession. But he didn’t care. It was the truth. “He makes me happy. Happier than I’ve felt in a long time.”

“Good,” his mama said. Her smile turned watery as she gave Robbe’s hand one more squeeze. “You deserve someone who makes you smile like that all the time.” His mama released his hand before turning back to his food. “Now, I want to hear all about this man who has been really insistent on you studying. He sounds like quite the man.”

Robbe let out a breath, grinning. “Yeah. He is.”

#wtfock #wtfam #robbe ijzermans #sobbe #rosander #sander driesen #jij verliest #jij verliest fic #sorry i’m on mobile because my computer died #and i can’t make a cut #or i can’t figure it out #i’ll put one on as soon as i get to my charger #twitch streamer!robbe #twitch streamer robbe #tattoo artist!sander #mama ijzermans

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bakutae · 4 years

Text

bnha headcanons #4

today’s menu:

bakugou katsuki with a dollop of shouto todoroki

scenario:

where you try to cook dinner for him

prompt:

‘i love you, so much, but please stop trying to cook me dinner. you suck.’

bakugou katsuki

it wasn’t a special occasion but you wanted to cook, and you shall

who would go against that?

well, bakugou did

you two had been together for quite some time now and you even shared an apartment together

there were times where you felt... well, experimental in the kitchen and wanted bakugou to come home to warm, delicious home cooked dinner after a long day

calling your cooking skills bad was an understatement

it was absolutely horrendous

you tried making curry once, instant curry, to be exact

how did you even mess up instant curry? it's literally just pouring water into it and stirring and adding your ingredients that you want in the curry

well, firstly, you added too little water and you boiled the curry for too long, causing most of the water content to evaporate and more paste like from the curry powder

you didn't mix the curry while it was boiling- it wasn't in the instructions though! how were you supposed to know that? and adding on the fact that most of the water content evaporated, you ended up with burnt curry

i mean hey, more char is added into your dish which makes it more flavorful..right?

bakugou came home to the smell of burning and at first he thought a fire was occurring somewhere and him being a top hero and all, was obviously on high alert in case anyone needed help

but when he took a closer sniff, he realised that it was coming from the kitchen

he peeked inside the kitchen and saw you trying to scrape the burnt curry off the saucepan, mumbling to yourself on how stupid you were for not using a non stick pan instead

he then shifted his glance to the plate next to the dishwasher and squinted

the curry looked..burnt and lumpy and it didn't look like it was edible

but bakugou didn't think much of it, how bad could it be?

it wasn't long before he wrapped his arms around your hips and snuggled his face into your neck, sighing in content, causing you to squeal from his hot breath on your neck

and well, long story short, it didn't taste nice, and ended up having pizza delivered for dinner, asking the delivery man to throw out the saucepan that could not be revived

of course you tipped the delivery man, it would be rude not to

this time, you wanted to go for something more ambitious; filet mignon

you couldn't help it, you were doing some grocery shopping and just so happened to drop by the meat section and saw a huge thirty percent discount on the meat

it was calling out to you, dancing on the shelves, waiting for you to pick them up

or at least that's what you told bakugou

bakugou rolled his eyes as he tried to take over the kitchen

he was a fantastic cook, actually and he didn't want to see the poor beef be served in such a pitiful way

however, you shoved him out from the kitchen telling him that everything will be alright and told him to go talk to kirishima or something if he was bored

you first added salt and pepper to both sides of the meat, carefully massaging it into the meat to make sure the the salt and pepper really make the meat flavourful and that your massaging would make the meat even more tender

you then tossed the meat into a saucepan, a new one this time since your old one got uh destroyed

you waited for a few minutes before flipping it over; or trying to flip it over

you had done it again

the meat was firmly stuck to the bottom of the saucepan as you panicked

the heat was still on and you didn't want to burn that side so you quickly turned off the heat and tried to quickly move the saucepan to a flat, cooler surface

the saucepan handle was metal, and since the saucepan was already quite hot, you held it without thinking and pain shot through your hand as you quickly let go of the saucepan, your beef falling on the floor, half cooked and probably burnt on the other side

bakugou heard the ruckus and came flying to you, worried that you got yourself injured in the process

he certainly didn’t expect the sight that he saw

you, with a shocked look on your face, hair all messed up and sticking to your neck from sweat

the meat, on the floor, contaminated with all sorts of germs, visibly stuck to the saucepan since the saucepan was tilted in a ninety degrees

he burst out laughing

'oh my god- pfft y/n, oh y/n darling, i love you, so much, but please stop trying to cook me dinner. you suck'

you pouted and your fingers went to nip at the corner of your top as you tried to defend yourself

'i forgot to butter the pan suki, maybe we should just get a non-stick pan and everything will be okay'

bakugou helped you with cleaning up

needless to say, you ended up another night with pizza delivered and once again, asking the delivery man, once again to help throw out the saucepan with the meat still stuck on it

shouto todoroki

it was your anniversary today and shouto wanted to prepare something special for the day

he knew how much you absolutely loved food, so he decided to make you a homemade meal for dinner

this guy actually took months to come up with the dishes that he was making

in his mind, he was envisioning a romantic candlelit dinner, with homemade aglio e olio and a side of mashed potatoes

shouto had no experience in cooking at all, he had never even held a kitchen knife in his entire life, except when thieves are threatening him with knifes and he coolly freezes them and slips the knife out of their hands, but that was it

he didn't think it'd be hard at all since he did some research on how to make aglio e olio and it did seem like one of the easier foods to make for beginners

it only needed the pasta noodles, garlic, salt and pepper, parsley and red pepper flakes- easy enough

he already had the ingredients needed, all he needed to do was to get you out of the house, which was easy

he gave you a long list and requested you to get them at the grocery store that was quite far from your place

at first, you insisted that shouto go with you

you were aware that it was your anniversary and shouto seemed to have forgotten about it

even so, you wanted to spend time with shouto, but he was so insistent that you go alone that you left alone, starting to feel down as you slipped on your shoes ad left with a sigh

shouto heard it, and he felt so guilty for making you upset, but he had to get cooking

he hurriedly tried to boil the water and he waited for the water to boil

when the water was boiling rapidly, he casually tossed the noodles in, watching as the noodles started to bend and sink deeper into the boiling water

he didn’t know how long to cook it for, and therefore decided to search it up on the internet

just then, he received a call from you

he picked up and you told him that the list was unclear and that the sprinkles in the supermarket had many types; striped ones, those in the shape of a heart and those rounded ones

he scratched his head as he wondered if he really did write down sprinkles; he had forgotten, as at that time he was just writing down anything that came to mind, focused on getting you out of the house

a smile crept onto his lips as he envisioned you staring at the packets of sprinkles in confusion and wondering which one to pick

‘shouto? why are you giggling?’

he snapped out of it and told you to buy whichever you liked best and then ended the call

his phone screen was on google, which the question ‘how long do i cook pasta for’ in the search tab

that was when he remembered what he was doing before you called

he slowly tore his eyes off the phone and peered inside the pot

great, at least it hasn’t been boiled into one lump of dough yet

he quickly turned off the heat and poured the water out, then took a strand and placed it into his mouth

it was melting in his mouth, the moment he placed it into his mouth, he could barely bite it before it was swallowable

it was far from al dente; and he still had to fry it in the pan with the other ingredients after this

he was at a lost, and decided to toss everything into the pan with some olive oil in it

the scent of garlic invaded shouto’s senses and he sighed, it smelt nice, at least

when he tried to stir the noodles, it started breaking and it looked a lot less appealing, but again, it smelt great

he absentmindedly stirred the noodles, waiting for the garlic to be cooked as it sizzled furiously in the pan

he then heard the sound of keys, followed by the sound of you opening the door

oh my gosh, you were back already? he was sure you’d take quite some time with the groceries since there was a lot of things to buy

he ran to the door to greet you, and saw you carrying at least four plastic bags on each arm and he ran to help you

‘y-y/n? why’re you home so quick?’

‘oh shouto, the grocery store is basically my second home, i know my way around’

he decided to tell you his plan, since it had already fell through

you grinned, so wide it almost scared shouto

‘i thought you forgot about our anniversary!’

you enveloped him in a warm embrace and press a quick kiss to his cheek and soon enough, a slightly smoky smell filled your noses

shouto suddenly pulled away and was running to the kitchen

‘my pasta!’

you trailed behind him, seeing the mess in front of you

the pasta at the ends were colored black as shouto tried to gingerly stir the pasta

the pasta at the bottom of the pan was burnt to a crisp

‘oh my gosh, shoutoo, i love you, so much, but please stop trying to cook me dinner. you suck.’

you gently stepped beside him, trying to assist him in cleaning up as he stood there, a blushing mess at the fact that you said that you loved him shouto todoroki is a shy as heck boyfriend oh man

taglist: @bnha-homeroom

#bnhabookclub #event: provisional license 2020 #tag: fluff #shouto todoroki #shouto todoroki x reader #bnha fluff #bnha #boku no hero academia #boku no hero imagines #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki fluff #shouto todoroki fluff

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werezmastarbucks · 4 years

Text

Whitmore Guy vs Cats

whitmore guy masterlist

word count: 1225

music: punching in a dream by the naked and famous

Saturday was sunny and too hot, so they kept the door open for several hours, letting all the smells from the kitchen out in the street. Y/N had a rare pleasure to just chill, watching somebody else do all the work. They turned on the music and talked. Mal came to her house way too early, at two o’clock, and refused to leave when she said she hasn’t even gone to the shop yet. They drove to the nearest store together and somehow ended up stealing a shopping cart. As Mal pushed it with Y/N inside, three packs of pasta and a bouquet of herbs in her arms, she observed the clear blue sky above, and shrieked with delight like a child.

Then they had to pay a fine for misplacing the store’s property.

Back in the house, Y/N opened a bottle of cider with the deepest feeling that she was spoiling herself, and not in a good way; that she was stealing from somebody, that she was doing something utterly bad. As she watched this dude, and his agile hands, unpack all the stuff they bought, and examine her cupboards, learning around her kitchen really quick; she felt better than she did in months.

“That ice cream bucket, by the way”, he pointed a fork at her and then threw it in the sink, “you were right. I shouldn’t have eaten all of it. I felt so sick afterwards”.

She groaned.

“I’m surprised you didn’t get hospitalized”.

“I have strong stomach”.

“Do you have any human weaknesses?”

“Sure”, he said passionately, “Baywatch. You remember that?”

She laughed, throwing her head back.

“I was watching Big Wolf on Campus back then”.

Mal whistled quietly.

“Have you always been preoccupied with that stuff?”

“Yeah, I guess, you could say I magnetize them. Set my mind to it in the childhood and went on with it”.

“What’s wrong with normal people?”

“I don’t know, you tell me”.

“Fair enough. Help?”

She slipped from her couch and stepped into the kitchen space.

“I’ll pour the water. You hold the strainer”.

They grouped around the sink, working with four hands.

“You’re a natural”, Mal nodded with approval, taking the strainer from her and dismissing her with a wave of his ringed hand. She sat at the table so that she wouldn’t have to walk too much.

“You ever cook yourself?”

“Have you seen my fridge?”

“I mean, you eat, right?”

“I do. Most of the time I buy something that’s easy to heat up. I’ve had an eating disorder ever since… forever”.

Mal looked genuinely concerned.

“I have no idea what that is”.

She snickered so bad she nearly spat her cider.

“Of course you don’t you munchkin. It’s when you get up in the morning, and your stomach is empty, and it’s growling and sucking, but you open your fridge, and go, no way. I can’t put anything in there”.

“That’s what she said”, he inserted, without breaking concentration.

“And then you get sick because you haven’t eaten, and by the end of the day you don’t really understand anymore whether you feel so bad because you’re hungry, or because the thought of food makes you nauseous. But at the same time you would love a big steak. But when you get it, you can bite it only once, and then the idea of food becomes an abomination in your mind”.

“Sounds like anxiety”, he murmured, slapping a pan with the towel and the putting it on his shoulder.

“I’m sure they’re connected”.

“I mean, these things are triggered by traumas, you know?” he looked at her over the shoulder.

“Yes”.

“So, anything happened?”

“Where to begin…” she rubbed her chin musingly. “It all began on a sunny day of the year nineteen ninety-four…”

He snorted.

“Poor thing. Don’t worry. I’ll make you pappardelle so good you’ll be begging for more”.

“I’ve no idea what that is but it sounds awful”.

Mal gasped.

“Don’t doubt me, woman. I’m literally the best cook I know”.

She finished her first bottle, and Mal eyed her, thinking.

“Where did you learn to cook?”

“Been on my own for some time”.

“Back in that violent lonely summer camp?”

He grinned modestly.

“Yeah”.

His head swung up, eyes down the hall behind her left shoulder.

“We’ve got guests”.

Y/N turned around only to discover a cat on her doorstep, sniffing the air with its little nose.

“Who’s that guy?”

“Looks like Gray, neighbor’s cat”.

“Take him away. Animals don’t like me”.

Y/N looked at the cat again, walking silently in her living room, but unable to hide its desire to run into the kitchen. The cat was cautious, and as soon as it saw Mal, it did, indeed, stop and hiss.

Y/N walked to it, trying to push it gently with her leg.

“Gray, what’s up? Go away if you don’t like it here”.

Mal was looking at the animal very seriously, like they were having a discourse telepathically.

“Why is that?” she asked, frustrated at the cat’s sudden inability to move. It ruffled all its fur and growled deeply, tail sticking to its bum.

“He feels I’m better than him, and he’s upset about it”, Mal boasted, full of hidden undertones.

She pushed the cat again, then bent and tried to pick it up, but Gray growled at her, too.

“You little shit. What did I ever do to you?”

“Don’t let Gray scratch you, or I’ll cook him, too”.

“Please, I don’t need to know about your street animals cooking skills”.

Y/N took a cushion from her couch and waved it in front of Gray’s face. The cat started to retrieve very slowly.

After several pushes and a lot of verbal persuasion, she finally took Gray outside. It felt good, for some reason, like she just avoided a disaster. As she straightened up and turned, she nearly bumped into Mal, standing in front of her and smirking.

“Cats. Fucking smart”.

When he stood so close, looking down on her, her brain went ballistic. His smell entered her nostrils and filled her head with poisonous gas.

“What are you doing?”

“I realized I forgot to buy apples for the pie. I’ll be right back, uh-huh?”

He leaned and clutched the door handle behind her back.

“Can you watch the pasta, please? Stir it a little if there’s too much foam. I’ll be in five. And don’t drink anymore, or you’ll fall asleep by the time your friends come”.

He disappeared like a magician, closing the door so quickly she barely managed to even register what he said.

Well, she be damned if she doesn’t find out his deal. She cursed under her breath as she walked back to the stove and looked down the pot, the smell of pasta making her anxious, like she’s been running for miles. There it goes: it takes one handsome fucker to enter her house, and she goes crazy. And he smirks, and smiles, and talks nonsense, blaming cats and Damon, and thinks he can wrap her around his finger. She be damned if she falls for a dick like Damon again. He thinks he’s smart, with his babbling to distract her from the things he doesn’t utter. But she’s been around for a while. And she’ll find a way to bust that dude.

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #vampire diaries #tvd imagine #legacies #legacies imagine #vampire diaries imagine #whitmore guy

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staylovehearts · 4 years

Text

A Tree in a Forest

Lee Minho x Reader

Word Count ~ 3.7 k

Summary: Sometimes you can’t see the tree from the woods.

Tags: childhood friends, friends to lovers, slight angst, but also really cheesy, weird tree metaphors but I promise it’s romantic, or at least I hope it is

"Let go of me, the people are starting to look."

With a pout, you let go of Minho's elbow that you have been holding onto. Actually, you had meant to hook arms, walk arm in arm like an old couple. Or close friends who are goofing around together. But Minho keeps his arm pressed tightly to his side and you have done your best to wriggle at least three fingers in between. But now he's looking at you with this kind of irritated glance. He's even stopped walking. The only thing that's missing is for him to place his other hand on his hip and use his height to tower over you to make you feel like you are a kid being scolded.

"Since when do you care about people looking at you? You love attention. Besides, you always get super clingy with your friends, why do you never let me be close to you?" You cross your arms in front of your chest while speaking. Half because you are not sure what to do with your hand now that you had to remove your fingers from Minho's elbow. You really don't understand why he is always making such a fuss about it. There is nothing wrong with friends holding hands or hooking arms or any of that. Everyone is doing it. And Minho and you have been friends for quite a while now. Actually, you basically grew up together. He lives down the street, when you were younger you used to sit in the sandbox of the playground around the corner, defending the castles you built together from all the other kids trying to get a chance of playing there as well until your parents pulled you out and scolded you. But the next day you'd do it again. You two have been in cahoots for all of your youth. Exploring the forests and fields around town, building secret hideouts in the woods and coming home with scrapped knees. You went to school together. Have even been in the same classes for most of it. Minho and you have always been close. And he used to not mind being touchy-feely with you. But somehow things have changed sometime during high school. Before that, you always used to walk to and from school together. Him waiting up in the morning, standing on your porch and greeting your mother before joking about how you are always making him late. He stopped. Had to go earlier because of clubs and stuff. He also stopped walking home with you. Meeting with friends or staying later for dance practice. It's fine. You do have other friends as well. It's just how things go. But still... something about the distance he's been putting up makes you upset. And the harder he tries to slip away, the more you want to get close to him again.

"It's different when they do it. They are not annoying and clingy like you. Besides, you can't even compare that. With you it's a whole different story", Minho finally answers your question. It feels like you have been staring each other down in the middle of this crowded shopping mall for at least half a minute.

"Different how?", you ask. "How am I different?"

Minho rolls his eyes at you, as if you are stupid for even asking such a question, but he's also not really providing you with an answer. In fact, he seems to be stalling for time. The stance of his body shifts. The angry posture had given him a confident, overpowering look, but now he's unsure. You can read him pretty well most of the time, so it's easy for you to tell that he'd rather not start arguing with you right now.

"You're just... you", he finally mutters. It's so vague that it could mean anything and nothing.

"What's that even supposed to mean?", you demand, but Minho is running away from the question. Literally. He has started walking again before you could even get into complaining properly. You try your best to catch up with him again, for a moment you consider reaching for his arm again. Just to tease him. But then you stop yourself halfway there and just settle for walking next to him.

"Well, either way, let's go eat something. I'm starving"

"Hey darling, you back already? I thought you were out with Minho?", your mother greets when you walk inside. She's standing in the kitchen, messing around in maybe three different pots and pans at the same time. The air is warm and filled with the smell of different spices and other ingredients.

"He had... a thing later. I think. He didn't really give me the specifics, just told me that he had to leave early. So I'm home already."

Your mother turns around to look at you over her shoulder, not even putting down her spatula or stepping away from the stove. But she gives you this kind of concerned mother look.

"That's odd", she just says, before completely turning back around to stir some vegetables in a pan. Something about the way she says it gives you a feeling that she is implying more than she is saying. But you're mother has always been like that. Giving you that know it all mothery attitude and yet refusing to really talk wisdom until you finally give in and come to her to ask what she means by that. But you're not really in the mood for talking right now.

"Do you want me to set the table?", you ask instead. Without even turning around your mother replies: "Yes, please. You're lucky I made a little extra. I wanted to leave it on the stovetop so you could eat it later when you get here. But now that you're here already you might as well eat with the family."

"Yeah, I'll get right to it."

And that's that. But you have a feeling this conversation is only postponed.

to Dumbass Catboy: sooooo what do you wanna do for movie night this weekend? i'll take care of snax if you bring the dvd, or do you wanna do netflix?? [sent: 17:35; seen 5 minutes ago]

You stare at your phone in anticipation. Movie night is a staple for you and Minho. When you were younger you used to do when every weekend. But as school progressed and homework started piling up you started reducing the frequency. Every second week and then once a month. But it's a date circled in your calender. Marked with a bright red pen. And you make sure to send him reminders about it at least a week in advance. Minho and you have never skipped a movie night. Not even that one time you came down with a really bad stomach bug. You did switch to watching the movie together over a skype conversation though. Because your mother told you not to leave the house. Not that you had felt like that. You still clearly remember how you paused the movie in the middle of a scene, stood up straight and declared "I'm going to puke my guts out" before rushing out of your room and into the bathroom. You remember Minho laughing and teasing and calling your gross when you stumbled back into your room, face pale but cheeks glowing red, hair messy and sweaty bangs sticking to your forehead. But you continued watching the movie once you had settled yourself back into bed. Movie night has never been skipped.

[Dumbass Catboy is typing]

The three dots move, stop, disappear, show up again. Then, finally, after what seems like hours of waiting – well, just about one hour actually – there is finally an answer. But you sure don't like what you are seeing.

Dumbass Catboy: sry, can't make it, got other plans [sent: 18:27]

He's ditching your movie night? Not even telling you what for? No excuse. Just other plans? What other plans could be more important than watching movies with your bestie? It's a tradition. A ritual. You've been doing movie nights for years. And he's just ditching you? Not even an excuse. You throw your phone across the room, not even bothering with a reply. This is stupid. Outrageous. This is... actually so hurtful.

What happened?

Do people just drift apart like that? Is that just how it goes? Friends come and go and life goes on. But if that's just how it goes then why does it hurt so much? Is it normal that it stings so much, that it makes your chest feel so tight that you almost can't breathe anymore? Hands shaking, all of you shaking, shivering, struggling for air, choking out sobs, tears stinging in your eyes?

Why does it hurt so much?

Just then you hear a gentle knock on your door. You try to quickly clean the tears that have by now welled over and dripped from your chin onto the mattress away with your sleeve. Won't fix the puffy eyes, but the light is dimmed, so maybe it's alright.

"Come in", you croak. Voice hoarse and strangled. Damn. The door opens slowly and your mother comes inside, carrying a basket of freshly washed and folded laundry that she puts down. Usually, she'd leave right after that, but this time she stops in the doorframe to look at you. You try your hardest to avoid her gaze.

"Are you alright?", she asks and that's really all it takes for you to break down completely.

"I think Minho hates me now", you choke out between strangled sobs.

"Oh, darling", your mother hurries over to sit down next to you without hesitation. Gently she places a hand on your shoulder and you curl yourself into her side like you used to do as a child, hiding from strangers at family gatherings and the such. She gently pets your hair while she waits for your sobbing and shaking to calm down again before she begins her interrogation.

"Did you two have a fight?", she finally asks, after you have wiped your face with your sleeves a couple of times and sat up straight again. You shake your head because you still don't trust your voice to be stable, But your mother waits patiently for you to explain more. So you finally give in.

"He cancelled movie night. Didn't even give me a reason. He just said that he has other plans. And he's been so weird and distant lately. Like he doesn't want to spend time anymore and when we're out together he always makes me walk like an arm's length away from him. And when I ask him about it he's so weird. He won't even explain himself. I just don't understand why he's being like this now? I thought we were friends. But it's all changing now and I don't know what to do. I don't want to lose him. I l-", you interrupt yourself there, but the knowing glance your mother is giving you is telling you that she was just waiting for that emotional outburst. I love him so much is what you meant to say. You didn't even realise you meant it until now.

"You know, boys can be really stupid sometimes. I'm sure he doesn't hate you. Maybe he just needs space to figure something out. I know you two have always been close, but things change when you get older. That's just how it is. You can't stay in your little sandcastle forever."

"But what if I don't want things to change?"

"Oh, darling, no one wants for things to change. But the world just keeps turning, and either you learn to deal with change or you get left behind. It's cruel, but life can be like that sometimes."

"Hey, sorry about last weekend, I was... busy."

You recognise the voice from behind without turning to look. You don't. You allow him to catch up to you but you don't slow down.

"It's okay", you say. Snappy. Short words. Fired like bullets out of your mouth. You don't turn, but you notice him flinch a little out of the corner of your eye. Minho's lips have always formed into a sort of natural pout, but it becomes even more prominent when he is actually upset about something. Such full lips. So soft, so plush.

"Maybe we could make up for it?", he offers. He's walking fast to keep up with you. Maybe you did add a little more speed to your step. You're basically powerwalking down the street. What is he even doing here? Did he have to be out just now when you wanted to go to the store?

"Maybe", you say. And with that, you're basically done with the conversation. But Minho doesn't seem to be willing to let you go so easily.

"Are you also going to the store? Want me to help you carry that?" He points to the bag around your wrist. Your mother gave it to you even though you insisted you'd be able to carry the few things she wanted without any help.

"It's empty. I think I can handle that myself", you explain. Still not even bothering to look at your friend. Can you even call him that right now? Friend feels like such a loaded word. Maybe he stopped being your friend when he started moving into crush territory. You wonder what territory you are in from his perspective right now? Maybe you're nothing. And being nothing only really hurts when you used to be something.

"Don't you wanna try grabbing me today?", he asks, still not able or willing to read the mood.

"Thought you didn't want me to."

"Yeah, but since when has me telling you what to do ever stopped you from getting your will either way, remember when we-"

"Hey, I'm sorry, but I got this kinda important errand to run", you cut him off in the middle of a sentence. You're not in the mood for childhood memories and sharing stories that you have told each other a dozen times already.

"Sure, maybe we can talk..."

You're out of reach before he can get that later out.

Dumbass Catboy: hey [sent: 22:34]

Dumbass Catboy: i was wondering if we could talk [sent: 22:35]

Dumbass Catboy: look, I know I kinda fucked up and I'm really sorry [sent: 22:36]

Dumbass Catboy: please, I know you are getting these, can you just talk to me please? [sent: 22:47]

You look at your phone, not quite sure what to do. You thought getting some distance yourself would make it easier to deal with your newly realised feelings. But it seems that now, that you have slipped away to finally grant Minho the space he has been demanding he doesn't want it anymore. Suddenly he wants to be close. Texting you, asking to hang out, showing up out of nowhere when you are walking down the street to come up and talk to you. Yesterday he tried to wrap an arm around your shoulder and you just bolted. It hurts. Wanting but not being wanted. Then trying to get the distance. Suddenly being wanted again. But if you cave in now, will he turn cold again?

to Dumbass Catboy: talk then [sent: 22:50; seen just now]

Okay, maybe you're being a little bit unreasonable. A little bit bitchy. But this is basically your first real heartbreak. He's your first real love. It makes sense to be upset, right?

Dumbass Catboi: I thought we could maybe talk in person? [sent: 22:52]

Dumbass Catboi: meet me at our secret place in ten? If that's alright [sent: 22:53]

You glance at the clock on your nightstand. As if the glowing red numbers would give you another time than that displayed on the phone in your hand. It's almost 11 pm.

You grab a coat and head out.

Minho is standing leaned against the trunk of an old oak, the light of his phone making his phone glow a ghastly pale white in the dark of the forest. He raises his head when he hears you step on a twig that snaps under your boots. The light draws weird shadows on his face and for maybe the first time in ages you are unable to tell what he is thinking. His face seems contorted by the light hitting it and you can't read him at all.

You stop roughly an arm's length away from him and wait for him to greet you. Or start explaining why he called you out here in the middle of the night. For him to say anything.

"You know isn't it weird that we are able to find this place so easily even though it's just some random spot in a forest that we made out to be our place ages ago? Like, there is nothing actually special about this tree, we just made it out to be special", Minho finally says after a moment of silence. It's not really what you expected. Well, not that you really expected anything out of this conversation. But you sure didn't think he would go on a rant about trees. But it suits him, talking some weird nonsense instead of getting to the point.

"So you called me out here in the middle of the night to talk about trees?"

"Yes, but also not really", Minho answers. "See, what I'm trying to get at is that you are like that tree. When you look around in a forest there are so many trees everywhere, you could hardly make out a single one. And they all kind of look the same. But once you stop and pick a single tree to be that special tree to you, it begins to stick out. And you start noticing all the weird little details. Like how the moss grows in weird shapes on it and how it leans a little bit to the side. And suddenly that one tree is just not some random tree in a forest. And you don't really notice it at first. It seems to be just that tree that you have picked out as a meeting spot. But when you stop to think about it, you realise that that tree has always been there. This tree saw us grow up. We climbed it when we were kids, we had picnics here and we talked for hours every night in summer. Even though it just looks like one of many trees, this tree is special to me. You are special to me."

Minho's little rant leaves you lost for words and you need a moment to comprehend that between all the talk about trees he just made something like a confession. But still, it's too unclear. To vague to actually tell what he is trying to say. He has put his phone away before he started talking. Now the weird shadows are replaced with pale moonlight painting his features soft, Making his sharp and angular jaw look almost smooth, yet the skin is shining like polished marble. And his lips, oh god his lips, have they always been this tempting?

"That's a really weird metaphor", you finally manage to whisper. There is no reason to lower your voice, but you can't get yourself to speak up. You feel like you are trapped in a giant bubble and once you move to fast or speak too loud it'll burst and this whole little moment of perfect honesty will be gone.

"I guess it is. But you know that saying? Not seeing the wood from the trees or something like that. I think this is like the opposite way around. I haven't been able to see that one tree that is special to me because of all the other ones around it. You know, hide a tree, use a forest. Is that a thing that people say? Ugh, sorry, I'm rambling." Minho reaches out. Hand on your shoulder. Pulls you closer. And arm's length is still just enough distance to reach out and touch someone if you want to. "Look, what I'm trying to say is that I really like you. I've liked you for a long time. And I've been scared of these feelings. So I thought if I just push you away I'd be able to move on. But then, when I really felt like I lost you, I couldn't take it. So I decided that it's better to lose you with at least trying to tell you how I feel than letting you go and never telling you. And now here I am. I like you. I really do. And I want to be with you. And I'm sorry that I have been such an idiot about it."

"You really have been an idiot", you mumble. You're standing closer to him now. Toes almost touching, his hand on your shoulder, yours uselessly hanging down next to your body. You reach out, wrap them around his neck, close the remaining bit of distance. Inhale. Everything about his body is so familiar. And yet it isn't. He smells the same, feels the same. But the bit of height difference hits different now. The way his heart is beating rapidly in his chest. This is new. These feelings are new and yet they are old. This tree is special and still, it is one of many. One that you picked. One that you made special. Because you saw it and you didn't let it go. Just like that little boy down the street who you first met when he was trying to pet a stray cat and you laughed when he started crying after it scratched him. But when he turned to look at you with tears in his big brown eyes, you rushed over to comfort him. And you never let him go again. Because he's special. To you he's special.

"I like you too", you finally return the confession. It feels like it took you both forever to get here. Then again, there is still so much time left. So many days to spend together, so many movie nights to be had. So much to do, it feels like no amount of time will ever be enough. Then again, maybe this moment alone is enough already. For now. And for Forever.

#stray kids #stray kids writing #stray kids scenario #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #lee minho x reader #lee minho fluff #lee minho scenario #lee know x reader #lee know fluff #lee know fanfic #lee know #lee minho

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christine-thinks · 3 years

Text

Forged With Fire - Deleted Scene #1

What’s this? Actual, original work?? Yes!

Since Forged With Fire is written from Sloan’s perspective, this scene never would have been in the final work (she’s literally unconscious here), but it’s also a bit too soft tonally to fit where it would have shown up in the timeline.

But! I loved the idea of Moses, who has done nothing but growl at everyone up to this point, make a family dinner (while growling at everyone).

Also trying on a different name for the hacker yet again, this time it’s ‘Zélomé‘ (zay-lo-may), which I completely made up. We’ll see if it sticks!

🍲🍲🍲

Zélomé tacked at her keyboard while Moses paced back and forth in the kitchen in front of her.

“We need food,” said Moses suddenly, “For when Sloan wakes up,”

“Sure,” Zélomé said absentmindedly, “There’s some take-out menus in the cupboard under the sink—we can—”

“Take-out?” Moses had stopped pacing and was staring at Zélomé.

“Yeah,” said Zélomé slowly, glancing at Moses, “You know, like, food? From a restaurant? Not everybody can survive on like, powerbars and protein shakes or whatever it is you subsist on,”

“Ugh,” said Moses, making a face. “What food do you have here?”

“I don’t know,” Zélomé shrugged, although Moses had whipped open her refrigerator before waiting for an answer.

“You...don’t have any vegetables in here,” said Moses.

Zélomé rolled her eyes, “No. They go bad before I use them—why would I bother?”

“Do you have any kind of protein at all?”

“You’re the one looking in the fridge,” Zélomé went back to her typing, “There’s some cans of stuff in the cupboards, too...somewhere,”

Moses closed the refrigerator with a tap of her foot and began opening and closing the cabinets, pausing when she found one with unopened spice jars and canned food. She didn’t need to stand on her toes like Zélomé did to reach the top shelf—she easily picked up a few cans and examined the labels.

“You have three cans of hominy, but no milk? Or eggs?”

Zélomé shrugged again, “My mom always had some in her pantry. Why, did they go bad or something?”

“You don’t—” Moses stopped and shook her head, "No, it’s canned. It’s fine,”

She placed the can of hominy beans on the counter and began rummaging through the cupboard again, murmuring to herself as she pulled out more cans and spices. Zélomé continued her half-hearted research on Bishop: she had a good handle on his finances and investments now, as well as his public reputation and business relationships, but the real information would be in much darker places. She didn’t want to venture there now. She was tired.

Zélomé stared blankly at the screen for a few more moments before sighing, closing her eyes, and placing her hands over her face. She usually felt so inspired after a job—even when they went wrong. And this one hadn’t even gone that wrong—they were all still alive, weren’t they?

Okay, they hadn’t gotten paid for their trouble—that sucked—nor did they still have the painting itself. But no one was after them. At least, not for the moment. Sloan would figure something out, surely. Wouldn’t she?

“Have you ever even used these knives?”

Moses’ question nearly startled Zélomé out of her weariness—she removed her hands from her face and looked over at Moses, who was examining the probably dusty knife block shoved into a back corner on the counter.

“Maybe,” Zélomé replied.

“They’re nice,” said Moses, and Zélomé was surprised to hear the note of admiration in her voice. “Is it alright if I use them?”

“Uh, yeah?”

Moses nodded, “Where’s your pots and pans?”

“Pot and pan—singular. They’re over there,” she pointed to a cabinet Moses hadn’t yet rifled through. Moses sighed, but opened the cupboard and pulled out the almost-new cookware. She set them on the stove and clicked on two of the burners before opening some of the canned vegetables on the counter and draining them in the sink.

Zélomé watched with fascination as Moses deftly chopped or minced the assortment of ingredients arranged in front of her. She had assumed Moses was good with knives—anything sharp, or anything that could be sharpened, really—but not like this. Zélomé’s mother was an excellent cook, and she’d had roommates who would have considered themselves aspiring chefs, but Moses was on a whole other level entirely.

Alright, so Zélomé’s only frame of reference for professional chefs came from fast-paced reality TV shows, but she was pretty confident in her assessment. Moses was quick, and deliberate, and precise, and at the very least really looked like she knew what she was doing.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Zélomé finally asked, after staring at Moses’ hands for probably too long a time.

“Around,” Moses replied, not bothering to face her.

Zélomé rolled her eyes, “Like where?”

Moses stopped chopping and started to fill the pot with water, “My parents. Travelling. Just...around,”

“Hmm, travelling. Right. I didn’t realize black ops agents needed to be trained as chefs too,”

After she set the pot back on the stove, Moses poured some kind of oil into the pan, “Anything can be used as a weapon. Knowing the ways food can be prepared means you know the ways it can be tampered with,”

Zélomé covered her face in her hands again, “Oh, my God. I was kidding, Moses. Is that seriously it?”

Moses shrugged as she picked up the cutting board and swept the chopped and minced vegetables into the pan with one swift motion.

“My parents taught me first,” Moses said, after a moment.

Zélomé perked up—something personal? From Moses?—but held her tongue. If Moses was going to share, it was most definitely going to be on her own terms, not because Zélomé was prodding. But Moses didn’t say anything else, only stirred the pan on the stove.

Whatever Moses had put in the pan started to sizzle and smell familiar—like onions and chilis, although where Moses had found an onion, Zélomé wasn’t sure.

“What are you making, anyway?” she asked before she could stop herself.

Moses flipped whatever was in the pan—peppers, maybe?—with ease.

“Pozole,” she said, “Or, a variation of it. Pozole verde, I guess. You didn’t have any meat,”

No wonder it smelled familiar.

“Meat goes bad faster than vegetables—plus it’s more expensive,” Zélomé said, feeling defensive.

“You wouldn’t have shit going bad at all if you actually used it,” Moses tilted the pan and scraped the vegetables into the pot, which made a loud bubbling sound, “Or do you not know how?”

“I know how to cook!” Zélomé huffed, “I just don’t have the time,”

“Make time,” Moses put a lid on the pot, which quieted the bubbling.

“What’s the point? Fast food is cheaper, take out is easier. I don’t—”

Moses turned around to face her, throwing a dish towel—where had she gotten a dish towel?—over her broad shoulder and crossing her arms.

“Cooking is important. Making food for yourself is important,” She didn’t look upset, exactly, but Moses was staring at Zélomé with such intensity it made her want to squirm. Zélomé had seen Moses intense before—just before a particularly heated fight, or just after a low blow from an opponent—but there was something else fueling her here.

“It’s human—to make food, to create something,” she continued, “It keeps you grounded. Connected. To humanity,”

Passion.

Zélomé tilted her head slightly—so, she could get Moses to let down her walls after all.

“Or, you know. Whatever,” Moses muttered, turning around and beginning to pick up the dirtied utensils.

“Here, let me,” Zélomé hopped off her stool and joined Moses at the counter, “This I know how to do,”

#wip: forged with fire #original work #writeblr #this was a fun exercise!#hopefully there's another opportunity somewhere to put both moses' muscles AND her cooking skills in the spotlight #also zélomé calls moses a black ops agent but i'm not sure if that's actually what she was #it works here for now

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batty-babe-blog · 5 years

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Ya gal needs to veeeeeent!

o4 | 28 | 19

So, one of the many reasons I've gots zero relationship with extended family members is because they assume I'm some foaming at the mouth psychotic monster who treats my mother poorly for funsies.

She worked really hard laying out that trope throughout my bebe Bats years, so I never developed close relationships with any of them. And still today at the ripe ole age of being an old biddy people still assume this. And I get it. I might do the same exact thing. Cause without context I come across like a nutso loon in this mother daughter relationship.

But let's take out all the physical and psychological abuse she either directly inflicted on bebe Bats or permitted her boyfriends to inflict. Let's erase all the abuse society at large can def agree was classic child abuse. Let's just list some the mundanely maddening things.

So, two days ago was the deadline for me to buy one of my besties birthday gifts and have it arrive before her birthday. I'm a broke babe and two weeks ago I ordered a gift card from my employer using this weird bonus point system. So, free gift card! I've never done it before and had no idea how long it would take for it to arrive. I've been checking my mail box every night when I get home just waiting. No gift card! So I used a credit card I'm not suppose to use to buy it last night.

Yeeeeah. My mother was here while I was out this past Tuesday without my explicit consent. She checked my mail. She set it on my table beneath a note pad she wrote a note on. It looked like a single spam flier for gutter cleaning. Nope. I went to throw it away today while cleaning my kitchen and my gift card I'd been waiting for is beneath the flier beneath the thick af big af note pad. Raaaage!

She was here for an hour a couple weekends back to take myself and my spawn to dinner. I'd cut her out for six months. Zero contact. This was the first time in over six months I was allowing her around my precious baby. My guard is up! Spawn and I take our doggo for a ten minute walk so he can go potty before we leave.

In ten minutes my mother has reorganized my pots and pans and taken the few dishes from lunch in my sink and put them in my dishwasher.

1. Unlike my mother who lives on the garbage food she raised me on, I cook dinner from scratch every single night. It helps keep my ED controlled. It makes me happy. I look forward to it! Every single night I am using a MINIMUM of one pot or pan. They are organized perfectly to meet my usage needs. I've been asking and then telling her to leave my shit alone literally my entire life. It's my home! Those are my high end wildly well taken care of pots and pans! Some you can't stack in the way she wants because you will DAMAGE them! I am a broke bitch. I need these things to last me as long as humanly possible.

2. I went to go pull a fancy af chefs knife I use for breaking down meats, cause again I'm a broke bitch and breaking down shit myself saves me a lot of money, from the dishwasher. Why? It has to be hand washed and hand dried afterwards to keep it in its best condition for as long as possible. BROKE BITCH takes care of her shit. I reach in to grab the knife, which is facing up, and end up cutting the side of my hand on a dinner knife that is also facing up. I have been telling her to stop flipping my knives up my entire adult life. Not only is it unsafe for grown folx.. My spawn helps me unload the dishwasher. Sharps go down so his little hand don't require stitches. It's how it's done in MY HOME.. that I pay for! With MY silverware, that I pay for!

I have to wrap a towel around my hand. That takes a minute to find because she's moved those from their designated drawer.. go outside.. and text scream at my bestie to keep myself from stabbing my mother to death with my blood stained dinner knife.

This woman in no way respects my autonomy as a human being separate from her. It doesn't matter if I ask nicely or beg or scream or threaten or demand.. she's always going to do things exactly how she wants to do them. And even when I express how much this upsets me in a totes calm and collected and rational way.. she pretends I'm attacking her, points out that she was just trying to help, and usually crying points out how ungrateful I am.

And that dinner we has? She complained and bitched the entire time about how slow the server was. My spawn actually told her that she should be nicer. And, yanno, I.. her adult daughter.. have been working for tips in some compacity for thirteen years.

She's a miserable old cunt who can always find something to bitch about. The conversation around that dinner was me trying to redirect her from talking shit about her fifty something year old baby sister. Her baby sister had just moved into her dream apartment after moving multiple states away alone. Mother kept making comments about how nice it must've been to marry and divorce rich. Yeah, baby sister is the most educated family member. She was the first woman to ever win this certain scholarship. She's a published author. She got into Duke for a graduate program.. She didn't marry rich. She married another brilliant person who's created many of the advertising icons you, dear reader, are well aware of. He's been interviewed by Barbra Walter's. He's got a damn wiki! And they were married for 25+ years! She put her own career pursuits on hold to raise their three children. Their divorce went smoothly. She deserves every bit of "his" money and retirement and investments she got. I mean.. ffs. She gave up alimony to secure that he continue financially assisting their mentally ill child into said child's adulthood.

She's smart and caring and funny and single for the first time in her life at fifty. Let the woman teach yoga and do ballroom dancing and go to Broadway shows with her brilliant daughters and fly across the country to visit her equally brilliant and kid son and son in law! Let her take her adult children to Disney once a year. Let her travel the country one summer to collect stuff for her NEXT book. Let me be low key jelly that she wasn't my mother. Lawl.

Like I'm sorry you're too poor to retire at way too close to seventy, got four failed brief af marriages under your belt, haven't gotten laid in a decade, none of your siblings will speak to you by choice, neither of your grown daughters will visit you, neither of your grown grand sons will speak to you period. Maybe you wanna fucking examine what role you played in all this misery you call a life!

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rubykgrant · 5 years

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I was watching a documentary show with my mom and step-dad. It was about a woman who was having issues with drugs, and at one point she and her father did various drugs together, and she passed out. She woke up to her father raping her. Watching this, we were all disgusted by that. My mom said it was horrible. My step-dad called him a freak. I said “That guy planned it too, he gave her something that would knock her out. That’s incest AND rape, she was unconscious, she couldn’t consent”. My step-dad then said “Well, speaking as a man, I’ve done that, but not with my own daughter”. That instantly made me turn my head.

Did he just say he has had sex with somebody who wasn’t awake? Did he really just say he raped somebody?

I looked at my mom, and she was confused why I seemed upset. I whispered to her “Has he really raped somebody?”. She laughed, turned and asked him, and he shrugged and said “When you’re around me, I am going to say whatever I want”. I don’t know what kind of answer that is. A yes? A no? Was it a joke? They kept watching the show for about another 20 minutes while I just sat there. My step-dad kept saying things like “Yeah, you can ask my kids, I never did anything like that to them. Sure, I was out there cheating, sleeping around, doing drugs, being a deviant, but I never touched them”. He continued bringing this up over and over, always making it sound like rape was OK but he drew the line at incest.

A little later, I tried to talk to my mom in the kitchen, because I was really concerned. Not that I felt like I was in danger. I didn’t think anything like that was going to happen. I just don’t especially like to hear somebody talk about doing an utterly terrible act without even a shred of remorse or accountability. I’ve known people who have told me stories about bad things they once did, and it usually is followed by them explaining how terrible they felt, and how they’ve somehow done something to try and be a better person.

My mom kept rolling her eyes at me. She said it wasn’t a big deal, and made it clear she thought that raping somebody who was unconscious wasn’t “the same” as holding somebody awake down and raping them. I asked her “What if something like that happened to you, you wouldn’t feel like you had been violated?”. Her response was “I wouldn’t let myself be in that position”. Really, so anybody who has ever passed out and been raped, it is their fault? Not the fault of the person who was awake and making decisions, not the fault of the person who was taking advantage of the situation, no. I wanted to know why she was so nonchalant about this. “I wasn’t there, I didn’t know any of those girls”. There are more people in this world that I don’t know than ones that I do, I still care if they are being raped. I love my family and friends, but I don’t need to personally know a person to think they deserve to not be raped. My mom started angrily slamming pots and pans around, telling me I was making a big deal out of nothing. I said “I can’t believe you are more upset at me for being concerned about this than about rape.”

The whole time we’re talking, my step-dad kept coming out to tell my mom to come to bed. The third time he came out, he was angry and looked at me saying “I know what the f*** this is about”. My mom went to go console him. I could hear him talking to her, and it is exactly the same thing he always says when he’s upset with me; he turns himself into the victim. “I can’t say what I want, in my own house?” is a favorite of his, and he likes to pretend it isn’t also my house, and I’m the one who has to shut my mouth and keep my opinions about anything to myself. “This isn’t how I thought my life would be when I met you” he tells my mom. He thinks I’m oppressing him and controlling his life because I don’t think rape is OK. He always starts ranting about how my mom needs to pick between him or me, how he doesn’t want me living here anymore, calls me some horrible names, then expects me to start catering to everything he wants. I’ve never told him he can’t say something or speak his mind. I’ve never told him to move out, or tried to manipulate my mom into picking sides. It is all him. Right now I can hear him saying “Anybody that knows me and is smart, they’re my friend. Because if you’re not my friend, if you make me mad, I’ll be the worst enemy you ever had. I’ll make your life miserable”. He’s talking about everything he’s done before to people who made him mad, and then directing it at me.

My mom came into my room to say goodnight, but I can’t be all kissy-huggy with her. I am now livid. She keeps saying “It isn’t as bad as you think”. I’m still shocked with her, it is honestly a surprise she is just so alright with this. Now what do I do? This isn’t a little “disagreement”, this isn’t something that will just be easy to get over. My step-dad is mad at me because I think rape is bad. He wants to throw me out of my house because I think rape is bad. My mom wants me to stop being upset so we can all live together and be nice. Maybe I wouldn’t be in such a panic on top of being angry, but his attitude of “I get to do whatever I want” while trying to force me to either leave my home or never speak my own mind is distressing. My mom is also not on my side at all. She has no problem with the implications of rape, and she has never once told him anything like “You can’t make my daughter go away”. When it comes down to it, she won’t defend me.

I’ll even give my step-dad the benefit of the doubt; maybe he didn’t rape anybody. Maybe anything. Why turn the question “Did you rape somebody?” into an indignant rant about your right to say whatever you want and threaten to have me thrown out? Never mind that I’d like to be able to have a conversation about this, never mind that this also isn’t what I thought my life would be like. Never mind all that; rape is one of the worst things one person can do to another. If somebody doesn’t consent to sex, that is rape. If somebody is passed-out and another person takes advantage of that, it is rape. The fact that I have a problem with rape is evidently very upsetting to my mom and step-dad. She excuses it, and I guess as long as it isn’t incest he condones it.

I’ve had to listen to him telling me I should kill myself, him telling me that I’m worthless, him telling me that I’m like a bloody canker sore in his eyes, him telling me he hopes somebody attacks me, him telling me I should die, and I’ve gotten over it. I’ve had to listen to him scream every kind of slur at the TV, him shouting fantasies about what he’d like to do to groups of people and individuals, him talking about who he thinks deserves to die just because he thinks they’re different from him, and then when I respond to that by telling him what he’s saying isn’t right and literally sounds like unhealthy thoughts, I have to listen to to him insult me. Why? Because my mom wants us to get along. She’ll come to me asking me to just ignore him, because otherwise he throws a fit. She doesn’t ask him to stop, she asks me to stop listening to him, which is hard to do when he is yelling louder than the max volume on my TV. I’ve changed how I cook food, where we put things in the house, and dozens of other things for him. Honestly, I didn’t mind because I truly considered him my family. I wanted him and my mom to be happy. This isn’t like all of that.

This is something much different, much worse. I have no idea what to do. I had to live through both my parents hitting me my whole life until I either got strong enough to fight back or called the cops on them, one grandparent killing himself, my mom leaving my dad because she didn’t want to be hit anymore but left me behind to continue getting hit, my dad attacking my mom and me fighting him off her to save her, my dad getting cancer then dying, my home being broken into and robbed several times, and another grandparent killing himself. I am constantly dealing with severe depression, I hate myself for mistakes I’ve made, for times in my life when I was cruel instead of kind, and I can only say at least I’m not THAT bad, I put so much effort into being a better person and trying my best to do good things for others. There are very few things I control in my life, and I refuse to leave my own home. I grew up here, the urns of my dad and grandpa are in my room, my pets are here. I’m not going to be run off, but I have no idea what will happen simply because I consider rape to be terrible, and the people I live with don’t

#me #my life #sad #depression #anxiety #possible trigger warning #upsetting #death mention #rape mention

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castcharmperson · 6 years

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Taakitz: Fashion Disaster

My first published taz fic and I’m so excited it’s for @taakitzweek! Here’s day one, a rather loose interpretation of the prompt, featuring Fantasy Halloween, cats, and the crime of eating frozen pizza. No content warning for this one.

The autumn festivals were hard to describe. Well, describing them was easy- harvest festivals early in the season, several days dedicated to Pan and other deities, and everything concluded with The Haunting of the Last Leaves. It would be more accurate to say it was hard for Kravitz to determine how he felt about the autumn festivals. They were usually beautifully, with most of Faerun turning various shades of orange and red. The wind was crisp and refreshing but not biting; not that temperature really mattered to Kravitz, but it was nice to go home and not wait thirty minutes in front of the fire before Taako would come within five feet of him. The harvests were wonderful family events, even Merle’s Pan-preaching felt a little more tolerable this time of year.

It was The Haunting that Kravitz mostly took trouble with. Taako said there had been something on his home plane that was similar - All Hallow’s Eve.

“Going door to door for treats, throwing eggs at the wagons of people you hate, bats, ghosts, black cats,” Taako had been holding Poe, their cat, as he spoke, lifting the small bundle of black fur as he talked. “Yeah, it’s like Lup and Barry’s favorite festival.”

Taako was hard to read, even after five years of living together after The Day of Story and Song (which now had a festival of its own during the early days of summer), but it was clear to see that The Haunting, or All Hallow’s Eve, was one of his favorite festivals too.

Kravitz tried to get into the spirit, he really did, but in the weeks leading up to The Haunting of the Last Leaves, his job always kept him busier than usual. Necromancers loved the early twilight, loved donning masks and taking whatever they needed to perform their crimes. After he and Taako had talked, he already worked out with the Raven Queen to make sure Barry and Lup had the day off, but that meant Kravitz would be pulling double shifts. Which he didn’t mind, but the closer they got to the date of the festival, the more Kravitz found himself wanting to celebrate with Taako.

Every doorway, arch, and awning of their home was lined with orange glowing charms. Several illusion spells had been set up around the lawn and there was a permanent state of fog. Taako had already crafted a perfect Caleb Cleveland costume for Angus, had taken to wearing sweaters and skirts with skulls on them. The smell of spiced apple cider was a new constant that Kravitz had grown fond of.

They still had a week before The Haunting, but Kravitz figured it wasn’t too late to contribute to the festivities.

“No. Oh my gods, no. Absolutely unacceptable.”

“Bluebelle, sweetie, just stay still.”

“Kravitz Queen, our daughter is named Blueberry Scone and you know that.”

Kravitz let go of the kitten with a sigh. She shook off the flower crown he’d placed around her ears and ran off. “You know the Raven Queen isn’t actually my mother, right?”

“One, yes she is, you take a Candlenights card photo with her and Istus literally every year. And two, what exactly are you doing to our cats?” Taako’s hands were on his hips. He’d maybe be a little less intimidating if Kravitz wasn’t sitting on the floor, but right now, the usually slight elf seemed rather imposing.

“Cats? Plural? Babe, I’m pretty sure I only had Blueberry with me.”

Taako laughed, loud and dangerous, tilting backwards slightly before the motion rebounded him forward and he was right in Kravitz’s face. “You’re shit at accents and you’re shit at lying.”

“I know at least five thousand former necromancers who would disagree.” Through the faux anger, Taako was still adorable. His nose scrunched up and his eyes were alight, and Kravitz found himself smiling.

Then he had a lap full of Taako and that smile became a grin.

“Ugh,” Taako sprawled himself out, lamenting against whatever strive Kravitz had apparently put them through. “I found tiny costumes all over the house. And Half Baked was crying at me because you put socks on him.”

“Sergeant Pepper liked the socks when I first put them on.”

“No!” Taako whacked Kravitz’s shoulder with the back of his palm. Even if Kravitz wasn’t a construct, it would hardly feel like anything. “You named Poe and Tchaikovsky after your favorite nerd shit and I respect that. You will call Half Baked and Blueberry Scone by their actual names.”

Kravitz was tempted to point out that Taako frequently referred to their skeletal cat as Baby Bones, Deluxe Gay, and Xylophone. “Okay, you caught me,” he said instead. “I wanted to get into the festival spirit.”

He dissipated his skin for a second, showing his skull, and Taako whacked his shoulder again as he laughed. “That is your worst joke. That joke is illegal.”

When the laughter died down, Kravitz spoke again. “You know The Haunting isn’t my favorite festival, but you seemed excited about it and now I… well I’m a bit disappointed I won't be here to celebrate with you. I thought getting costumes for the cats would be a nice surprise.”

“Sap,” Taako was still smiling and Kravitz would tell all the illegal jokes in the world in order to keep seeing that smile. “But okay, nice surprise except for you picked the worst costumes for our children.”

“That’s what you’re upset about?”

“Of course that’s what I’m upset about! Was Blueberry going to be a druid?”

“Yes, I thought the crowns they sold a Fantasy Petco matched her fur nicely.” Kravitz picked up the fallen string of flowers, toying with it.

Taako snatched it out of his hands and tossed it down the hall. “No! Who does she hate more than anyone in the world? Merle. And she is a smart girl, she knows what Merle does with plants. No way, not for my Blueberry.”

Kravitz sighed. “Okay, then Blueberry can go as a mummy and Sarg- Half Baked can go as a druid.”

“You were going to dress Half Baked as a mummy?? Kravitz! You work with the dead, you have to know that insensitive.”

“He’s a cat. And he’s not even undead - he’s just hairless.”

“Ugh!” Taako rolled out of his lap, crossing his legs to sit across from Kravitz. “What other horrors did you inflict on my babies?”

“Oh, so they’re your babies now, but they’re mine when they want to be fed at three in the morning?”

“Kravitz,” but even his sharp tone was softened as he tried and failed to hold back a grin.

“Okay, Blueberry was going as a druid, Half Baked as a mummy. I was going to give Poe little raven wings and Tchaikovsky was going to get a wizard hat.”

“Oh hun.” Taako rolled to his feet and offered a hand to Kravitz. “You are so lucky you have me. Leave you alone for five minutes and you are a complete fashion disaster.”

Kravitz took the hand, letting Taako pull him up and take them both into the kitchen. He started on dinner, pulling out different pots and pans and grabbing a thawed ham from the fantasy refrigerator. Kravitz found counter space that was far enough out of Taako’s wide work range and hopped up to sit on it.

“Okay, here’s why all those ideas are terrible. Blueberry Scone, nothing plant related. Half Baked will probably overheat if you put too much on him, which is probably why he was crying. More importantly, he cuddles with Baby Bones more than anyone else and Baby Bones will be sad if Half Baked isn’t all fleshy. The two of them hate blankets, so fabric that’s attached to Half Baked will make both of them cry. And for a cat without lungs, Baby Bones is loud.”

“His name is Tchaikovsky,” Kravitz pouted, not ready to surrender that Taako had a good point.

“Summon a book because you better take notes.” He started whisking something, bowl on his hip. Kravitz actually did summon a notebook and a quill as Taako continued. “Let Blueberry be a mummy, the socks will keep her from slipping into her ghost form. Half Baked should be painted with some hypoallergenic makeup to look like a pumpkin.

“Now Poe as a raven is clever but it’s boring. Black cat, black bird. Come on, babe, you’re better than that. Plus, the little gremlin will wriggle out of whatever you put him in. Drop him in some flour, I’ll transmute it blue, and stick a single Pom Pom on his head. Then Poe is a blueberry and it’s funny because we have a different cat named Blueberry.”

Kravitz laughed softly at that and Taako beamed. “And of course Tch’gay-sky should be illusioned with a black cloak and scythe and go as you for All Hallow’s.”

“Me?”

“Well yeah, he’s not a wizard. He’s clearly a baby reaper. Plus, if his costume is an illusion, he can’t accidentally eat it and have it fall through his bones.” Whatever Taako was whisking was poured into a pan and put in the oven. He was starting on the ham when Kravitz hopped off the counter and wrapped his arms around Taako’s waist.

“You’re so smart.”

“I know.”

Kravitz grinned, pressing his lips against Taako’s neck before taking a step back. “Alright, I guess I better return some things to Fantasy Petco.”

“You do that. Dinner will be ready in an hour.”

“And actually, now that I think about it, I’ve got so much reaper work. You know how this season is.” Kravitz started inching out of the kitchen. And Taako froze.

“What did you do.”

“Did I mention you’re the smartest, most incredible man I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet, in life and undeath?”

“Yes, and you can say it a million more times to make up for whatever other crime you’ve committed.” Taako narrowed his eyes, trying to piece together what Kravitz could have possibly done that he needed to skip out on dinner. It wasn’t really a big deal, Kravitz did usually work through dinner. But he wasn’t usually so skittish about it. Acting on a hunch, Taako opened the fantasy refrigerator again.

“Kravitz Queen, you did not!”

“I did.” At least he had the decency to look sheepish.

“That was for Angus. You know, a child, who won't eat anything other than trash food if he’s in a particular mood.”

“Maybe I was in a particular mood?”

“At least tell me you burned a spellslot on reheating it. Kravitz, I swear to Istus…”

“It was cold pizza and it was delicious. Iloveyousomuchbye!” There was a rip in the fabric of reality and Kravitz made his escape.

“No! Oh my gods, no, absolutely unacceptable! Kravitz!!”

Thanks for reading! Check out my charmedwords tag for more taz fics!

#2taakitz2week #taz #the adventure zone #taz fic #taakitz #the taakitz cats #halloween #charmedwords #taz taako #taz kravitz

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tieflingboi · 6 years

Text

Alone.

Read it on AO3 HERE

2272 words

Summary:

‘Sometimes. My brain, it stops trying to be adult brain, it makes me.’ he hands paused mid-air as he tried to find a word for what he had began experiencing once his life wasn’t in danger every five minutes. ‘small.’

“You feel small?” Blitz eyebrows furrowed as he tried to understand

‘Yes.’ Hearth refused to meet his eyes, ‘small like child… not like you.’ He hoped that maybe if he made a quip about the dwarf’s height then he would forget what he had just been told and this morning would just reset itself like the restore factory settings button on a phone

“How old?” Blitz asked, ignoring the comment on his height

‘Don’t know.’ Hearth shrugged, ‘young.’

The one in which Hearthstone is an age regressor and is super angsty and sad about it.

When Blitz had woken up to pots and pans banging in the kitchen of their apartment, he didn’t find anything wrong, the sound common enough- but when he heard Hearth vocalizing loudly he shot out of bed. Hearth was a reserved man, to say the least. He wouldn’t say much about his upbringing if he could help it but Blitz assumed that his parents had strongly discouraged Hearth from making a sound, even laughing. So when Hearth did vocalize it was never to be taken lightly, usually it meant he was either very upset or very happy; when it came to Hearthstone, vocalizing is for extreme emotions.

That being said, it turns out the Elf had burned the pancakes he had intended to serve to Blitz in bed. Blitz only laughed and kissed Hearth softly before telling him to not worry about it and that Blitz would cook some breakfast for the both of them.

Hearth had been pacing around as Blitz cooked and as soon as he was finished eating he got up again, insisting that he did the dishes- which he had scrubbed at so harshly Blitz was surprised that he hadn’t worn a hole in them.

“What’s wrong?” Blitz asked, trying to make his signed as gentle as he could.

‘Nothing.’ Hearth bit the inside of his cheek, a clear sign that he was lying.

Blitz didn’t accuse him of lying, which would get him nowhere; he simply nodded and helped dry the dishes.

Hearth wouldn’t meet his gaze when Blitz insisted they relax and watch a movie. They didn’t get many days off, working and living at The Chase Space for the past year or so was a full-time gig, but Alex and Magnus had insisted that they get a retreat for the week while the two einherjar took over running the shelter. So at this moment, Blitz wanted nothing more than to just lie around in his (very fashionable) PJ’s and watch movies with his boyfriend.

When Blitz had gone to click on Brooklyn Nine-nine, the two’s go to binge watch show, Hearth tapped him lightly to get his attention.

‘Maybe later we watch that. I want something serious, with hard understanding plot and…” His hands paused as he stared into the middle distance searching for more to say, he couldn’t seem to find it. ‘Please.’

Blitz was perplexed, as far as he knew Hearth generally hated to watch things like that, he often complained about hard to follow plots and would normally always pick something light-hearted that had no dire consciences in the plot (such as the end of the world). But Blitz nodded and searched for something to watch.

“How about this?” He motioned towards the screen, which showed some drama series, the thumbnail featured an angry looking man looking into the camera, dark shadows wrapped around his face.

Hearth nodded enthusiastically, already curling up against Blitz, the Bluetooth headphone already turned up all the way and wrapped around his neck. While they annoyed Blitz a little, digging into him as Hearthstone used him as a living pillow- the look on Hearth’s face when he had first tried it at a suggestion of one of the members of his deaf support group, well Blitz would do anything to see that face. His mouth had fallen open in shock as the first notes of the opening music vibrated against his neck, a small squawking sound had left the mans throat in shock, and then he turned to Blitz with a look that was reminiscent of a kid on Christmas morning.

Blitz smiled fondly at the memory.

The two sat watching the movie, Blitz found himself struggling to keep up with the films convoluted plot (something to do about a terrorist organisation and a missing diamond, with a subplot of some random civilian guy that Blitz couldn’t see the importance of) and it was clear that Hearthstone wasn’t paying attention after the half and hour mark. He played with the fraying hem of his old t-shirt that Blitz wanted to throw in the trash as soon as the elf wouldn’t notice. Occasionally he would snuggle deeper into Blitz’s side as if trying to crawl under the dwarf skin ( in a totally adorable and not parasitic bug way)

A loud explosion appeared on the screen, the vibrations that played against Hearthstones neck forced him back into reality and realization. He was letting himself relax and thus, letting himself go into that headspace. He signed some half-hearted excuse and walked himself into the bathroom. Shoving his hands under steaming hot water flowing from the tap. He winced at the pain but kept his hands under the water. Why must his brain do this to him? He didn’t want to slip into that headspace; no he kept himself away at all costs and sometimes that meant putting himself in minor pain to keep himself present, at the right age.

He hadn’t noticed the dwarf following him until Blitz had gently placed a hand on his shoulder, causing the elf to nearly jump out of his skin.

“What’s wrong?” Blitz asked his eyes fixed intensely on Hearths face, which had scrunched up, as he fought with himself internally.

‘Nothing,’ Hearth signed sharply, ‘it’s nothing. You’ll hate me if I say. It’s nothing.’

Blitz raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t sound like nothing.” After signing he turned the tap off, taking note of how green Hearth’s hands now were. “I could never hate you.” Enunciated every syllable and his signed were clear and precise. It wasn’t uncommon for either of them to be overtaken with insecurities, and just like Hearthstone did for him, Blitzen wasn’t going to let his elf think he was any less amazing then he was.

‘Weird.’ Hearths shoulders were slumped and he angrily swatted away tears that sprung from his eyes like a fast approaching storm. ‘Besides, cant sound like anything. I’m mute.’ He joked trying to… he didn’t even know what it he was trying to do. Everything was just becoming too complicated and anxiety buzzed under his skin like thousands of bees trying to escape.

“Tell me.” Blitz pressed, reaching up and wiping away a tear gently with his thumb, his knuckles brushing over Hearthstones face lightly,

Hearthstone let out a shaky breath, he was thankful that he didn’t need to speak out loud because, while he wasn't exactly sure what went exactly into making words happen, he felt like the hot thump in his throat would have helped. Although he supposed his shaking hands wouldn’t either.

“You feel small?” Blitz eyebrows furrowed as he tried to understand.

“How old?” Blitz asked, ignoring the comment on his height.

‘Don’t know.’ Hearth shrugged, ‘young.’

Blitz nodded, the cogs of his brain turning quickly. He took Hearths hands gently, grimacing at the heat that radiated off them. Reaching towards his moisturizer on the sink he wordlessly rubbed some into Hearths slender hands, hoping the stupid elf hadn’t burnt himself too badly. Once this was finished, Blitz looked up at Hearthstones face, without the use of his hands to wipe away the tears they had dripped down his face. A whimper escaped his throat.

Blitz let go of Hearths hands and raised his own to sign, “you small now?”

Hearth didn’t respond, only ducking his head so low that his chin pressed against his chest and his face turned a bright shade of peridot. ‘Trying to not be.’

Blitz, ducked under Hearths lowered face, a small smile on his lips. “It’s okay to be. I am good at helping to look after small kids. If you are okay with me, I’d love to care for you.”

Hearth didn’t try to wipe away the tears that blurred his vision. His bit his lip and he nodded his head. He wanted that, very much. Blitz felt his heartbreak as Heath sunk to his knees and cried in earnest, an uncensored wail breaking free from his lips.

After Hearth had calmed down, his eyes puffy, face flushed green and snot running down his nose. Blitz helped him to his feet, wiped his face with a wet cloth and walked him into the living room.

“How does –“ Blitz paused realizing that Hearth wasn’t looking at him, he tapped lightly on Hearth's knee and tried not to react when Hearth flinched. He started again, “How does this work?”

Hearth shrugged. ‘Don’t know; never let myself be like this. Scared.’

Blitz nodded understandingly, he tried to place himself in Hearth's shoes- if it was Blitz, who was feeling as if he were a child and not just in the inferior and stupid way that other dwarves made him feel, no in a literal actually feeling like a kid way. What would he want? He’d want Hearth to take control, he wouldn’t want to have to make decisions and feel like a burden. He’d want to feel loved and comforted.

So that's what Blitz would do.

‘Watch movie?’ Blitz asked, smiling softly. Hearth only shrugged but Blitz guessed that that would be the most of an affirmative answer he would get. He turned Netflix back on, but now switched off the annoyingly convoluted film and switched to the kid's section and put on one of Hearths favorite movies, Lilo and Stitch.

A smile graced Hearths lips as he slowly sunk into Blitz’s side apprehensively as if waiting for the dwarf to push him away. Blitzen wrapped his arms around the blondes lean form and pulled him into his chest if Hearth didn’t want to cuddle, he made no indication of that, basically melting into Blitz and sighing contently. When Blitz placed Hearths headphones around the elf’s neck he had looked up at him with a look of unrestrained awe. As if Blitz was a superhero and the best one in all the nine words for that matter. Blitz would be lying if he said he did not like that look.

As they watched the movie, Blitz felt the tension in Hearth’s body disappear. Blitz studied him thoughtfully, he did look younger somehow… or perhaps that was maybe just Blitz thinking he looked younger. He certainly was more expressive, while Blitz was one of the few people Hearth willingly let down his guard with he still wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve. But there was something about the way the elves face lit up during his favorite scenes during the movie or the way he laughed at Stich’s antics, he just seemed to be expressing more of what he was feeling than usual.

By the end of the movie, Hearth was humming tunelessly to himself, Blitz had seen him do this a few times. Apparently, Hearth found the sensation interesting. Blitz was happy to see he wasn’t crying anymore.

What was that demigod/hero saying? ‘don't say that anything should be easy because then it will go terribly wrong’? well, Blitz had forgotten one of his own, ‘never think about how the kid isn't crying because then the kid will start to cry.’ After a year of living in a mansion full of children you would think Blitz would have learned his lesson, but no. No, he had not.

Once the movie was finished, Blitz had gotten up to relieve himself in the bathroom, he had signed to Hearth he would be right back.

When he returned he found Hearth curled up in the fetal position on the couch, sobbing silently. He gave no answer when Blitz had asked him was was wrong, either too upset to form the signs or he didn’t see Blitz ask.

The dwarf scooped up the crying elf into his arms and held him close. Hearth pressed his face into Blitz’s neck, his arms wrapping so tightly around the man that Blitz thought that this might be close to what a mouse would feel when captured by a snake. But while a mouse would fear for its own wellbeing, Blitz only cared for Hearths.

He rubbed calming circles on Hearths back with one hand and petted the blonde hair with the other.

When Hearth ceased his sobbing, huffing and hiccupping against Blitz’s face Blitz pulled back just enough so he could make sure Hearth could see him sign one handily. “What wrong?”

Hearth, seeming to not want to let go of Blitz unwrapped one arm and fingerspelled G O N E

When Blitz raised an eyebrow in confusion Hearth tried again. B G O N E H A L O N E

“Oh honey,” Blitz cooed, holding Hearth close, trying to communicate all his love with the embrace alone. He rocked Hearth back and forward slowly. He may not fully understand all this, his mind trying to wrap around how Hearth could feel ‘small’ but he sure as fuck was gonna love this elf with all his heart. And if that meant he occasionally had to look after Hearth like a child, well he sure as fuck was going to do that. He would make sure that Hearth knew that Blitz would never leave him to be alone.

#blitstone #magnus chase #blitzen #hearthstone/blitzen #hearthston #nsap #Non-Sexual Age Play #age regression #hurt/comfort

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sardonicswampert-blog · 7 years

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Hc where MC makes thanksgiving dinner for the RFA and it actually turns out really bad? Idk I thought of this and thought it would be really funny

AN-Oh my god this is great. Hope you like it!

Yoosung

Super excited that MC is cooking for him!!! It’ll be like a cute little dinner date n stuff.

MC is in the kitchen for the whole day basically and it’s making him super excited for what you’re gonna come up with like literally anytime he walks in you yell at him.

“Yoosung it’s not ready yet! Wait a little while longer okay???”

Like shit MC you’ve really outdone yourself you don’t need to go through all this work just for him.

He’d be happy with anything you would make because I mean he loves you so much.

But when 5PM rolls around this boy is HUNGRY

Like he literally is such a little dog tail wagging and everything.

But then he hears you screaming.

“MC what’s wrong?! Are you hurt?!”

But then he sees what has happened

The kitchen is literally black with smoke as you run around frantically trying to save the dishes.

He runs to help bc of course he would but it still in the end takes a long time to clean up.

If you are super upset he would literally wrap his arms around you and comfort you telling you everything’s gonna be alright and he can literally just eat the whipped cream for dinner and he would love you all the same.

Zen

Honestly he is super competitive with MC and this entire thing was all based on one of the more competitive moments.

“Oh yeah? Well if you’re so good at cooking maybe you should make thanksgiving dinner tonight!”

“Ok Zen, I’ll make the best damned thanksgiving dinner you’ve ever seen.”

He didn’t think you would take it this seriously

BUT OH YOU DID

Literally .5 seconds after the bet you dashed to the grocery store and literally bought so much food that he didn’t know what to do.

He would literally have to hit the gym for three years to work all this off.

When you were finished literally you ushered him into the kitchen, a shit ton of cooked food next to him.

He actually raised an eyebrow bc DAMN MC YOU ACTUALLY DID IT.

You watched with a smirk as he took the first bite.

Was it supposed to be this rubbery???

“Uh MC I think this is a little undercooked.”

NO IT ISN’T GOD DAMMIT

He tries to backtrack on what he said but it already came out he couldn’t help it.

Literally MC went on a rampage that lasted a good hour before he found you passed out on the couch, a tub of ice cream on the floor empty.

He sighed as he picked you up and carried you to bed with him.

Never again.

Jaehee

Actually presently surprised that you wanted to take up cooking for thanksgiving this year.

Normally she would do most of it, her being the better cook in this relationship.

But she let you this time because I mean there’s no way she could say no to you.

“MC do you need help with anything? I have a little while before I have to be back at work.”

“No no go ahead. I want to surprise you!”

She blushed but then realized she literally had to leave for work so I guess she would leave it to you.

Damn trust fund kid making her work on yet another holiday.

When she came home she sighed in relief that the apartment wasn’t on fire.

She walked into the kitchen with a very messy MC

Batter all over your face and in your tousled hair.

Cue blushing Jaehee EVEN MORE.

As soon as Jaehee takes a bite a bitter flavor fills her mouth but she shows no emotion as she continues to eat her whole plate.

“This is so bad Jaehee don’t hate me for ruining your thanksgiving.”

“MC you could never ruin my thanksgiving, I love you.” She gave you a soft kiss on your forehead as you both blushed.

“But maybe next year, maybe we can do it together.”

Jumin

Doesn’t understand the concept of cooking your own thanksgiving meal.

Like why spend all this time making it when his chef can literally prepare the best meal????

“Jumin it’s all about the experience.”

Goes off to work for a few hours at the office because ofc you wanted to surprise him with your amazing cooking skills.

Eventually throughout the day would have cute little thoughts of you cooking and getting all messy.

LIKE IN A CUTE WAY OKAY.

When he finally came home he was honestly super excited.

Like his beloved MC was so sweet to actually take time to do something for him so generous.

But oh shit he was NOT expecting to see this.

Literally paw prints running throughout the house

Was that chocolate??? The world may never know.

Pots and pans everywhere, flour and raw food literally everywhere.

“MC what happened dear?” is literally so confused when he sees your tear streaked face.

“I just wanted to make you a nice dinner but of course I had to mess everything up and I didn’t know that I-”

He cut you off with a kiss on the lips.

“Darling don’t worry. I don’t care if you may have messed up, let me take you out to dinner to say a proper thank you for working so hard.”

When you guys finally left he ordered his maid to clean the whole apartment top to bottom before you got back because he literally found turkey in his living room.

Saeyoung

HAH MC cooking for him???? Since when does this boy actually eat???

Okay but he was seriously so impatient waiting for you to finish like this boy eats SO MUCH.

“Saeyoung put DOWN THE HONEY BUDDHA CHIPS IM MAKING YOU A PROPER MEAL”

He was kinda lowkey excited for you to make thanksgiving dinner like wow okay he can imagine the pumpkin pie right now.

The whole day he would be making jokes about thanksgiving like he just KNEW how to push your buttons.

“What happened when the turkey got into a fight? He got the stuffing knocked out of him!”

“Why did they let the turkey join the band? Because he had the drumsticks.”

“SAEYOUNG SHUT THE FUCK UP PLZ”

“Make me.”

Cue the food fight.

In a matter of minutes, you were chasing him around throwing stuffing, whipped cream, and any food you could get your hands on at each other.

You didn’t even notice when the literal kitchen was on fire.

After you fixed the problem, the rest of the food was burned.

“Hey MC, what did the turkey say before it was roasted?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Boy I’m stuffed!”

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