#Blend of Aroma and Flavour

[chaskatea]

Experience the Perfect Blend of Aroma and Flavour!

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Brew your perfect cup today and awaken your senses!

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[lowkeyren]

—my muse, my cure.

in which : both you and jiaoqiu are deeply concerned about each other's health but have an unconventional way of showing it.

pairing : jiaoqiu x gn!reader

wc 850, established relationship, 2.5 spoilers woops (but this isn't angst trust), also ib by an iconic line in 2.5 iykwim, art by @/Lianzi_ on x, reblogs r much appreciated!!!

how do we get a picky eater to eat green peppers?

being a picky eater isn't easy, especially when you have a sly fox like jiaoqiu in your kitchen.

you think you're safe when you see a simple, mouthwatering dish; but with him, there's always a catch. beneath the savoury aroma of perfectly cooked meatballs or the comforting warmth of a soup, he hides the things you avoid —finely diced peppers, a hint of spice, or icky vegetables you swore you’d never touch.

jiaoqiu doesn’t say a word, but the way his ears twitch gives him away. he watches with a subtle, knowing grin as you take a bite, waiting for you to realize what he’s done. though by the time you do notice, it’s already too late. despite your best efforts, the subtle icky flavour of green peppers have already permeated your taste buds.

“you didn’t even notice, did you?” he teases, his voice laced with mischief.

you shoot him a glare as you reluctantly finish the dish, the flavours blending together so seamlessly that you almost forget what you were trying to avoid in the first place. (seems like his culinary skills managed to win you over once again)

“that’s not very polite of you, doctor.” 

jiaoqiu’s smile widens at your response. “ah, come on now,” he says, feigning a hurt expression. “it's all in good fun. besides, you know those peppers are packed with vitamins. it’s good for you.”

you let out an exaggerated sigh, your irritation still simmering. “well, just because your dish turned out good, don’t think i’m letting you off the hook that easily,” you say, rolling your eyes, though a small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.

jiaoqiu only chuckles at your response, clearly amused. “i see how it is,” his tone taking on a teasing lilt as he steps a little closer, “you best stay on your guard then, dearest.” 

“how do we get a picky eater to eat green peppers?” the answer is quite simple. chop the peppers and mix them with minced meat to make meatballs, allowing the meat’s flavor to mask the peppers so even your fussy spouse can enjoy them.

how do we get a stubborn doctor to drink his medicine?

being a doctor isn't easy, especially when you’re injured and your partner is more worried about your own health than you are.

“qiu’er, i’m back!” the sound of your voice instantly draws his attention, he turns his head in your direction, the subtle rustle of sheets accompanying his movement. the bed dips slightly under your weight as you settle beside him, the warmth of your presence soothing. “here, i brought you some tea,” you murmur. 

“careful, it’s hot.” you gently lift the cup to his lips, the steam rising and carrying with it the sweet, spiced scent of cinnamon —he immediately notices the strong overpowering smell right away.

ah… cinnamon? so you took his advice from years ago, but unfortunately a fox’s senses are sharper than most. 

his nose scrunches slightly as the liquid gently brushes against his lips. “spiked my tea with something, dearest?” you pause, setting the cup down with a soft clink. though just as you’re about to retort, his hand reaches out, searching for you with a gentle touch. his fingers graze your arm, then find your hand, which he clasps with a tender grip.

“cinnamon is excellent for masking strong odors and is even used to conceal the scent of poison... but you wouldn’t be so cruel to me, would you?” he remarks with a playful smile, though there’s an ironic edge to his words, given his current condition.

you let out an exasperated sigh, “you wouldn’t take your medicine, qiu’er. i never thought you’d be such a stubborn doctor.” 

he chuckles softly, the sound low and a little raspy. “stubborn? i prefer ‘selective.’” his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. “and i chose to have you as my doctor.” 

“if it means i get to be the one who takes care of you, then i’ll gladly accept that,” you reply, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “now get some rest —doctor’s orders.” you help him settle back on the bed, careful not to accidentally press on his bandaged wounds, before gently pulling the sheets up to cover him.

you lean down to kiss the crown of his head, running your fingers through his hair in a soothing, rhythmic motion. “i’m only following your orders, baobei,” he mumbles softly, his words trailing off as he drifts into a peaceful sleep.

today the sun may blaze brightly in the sky, but its brilliance fades next to the warmth of your smile, a light that, though he may not be able to see, touches his heart more profoundly than the brightest day ever could.

how do we get a stubborn doctor to drink his medicine? easy. disguise it in a comforting cup of tea, masking the bitterness with cinnamon, so even he won’t notice until it’s too late. of course, your tricks never really fool him, but he lets you win anyway.

homeboy has been through so much

MASTERLIST.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Reunions Embrace ~ HYJ

WORD COUNT: 2.1K

GENRE: idol!AU, established relationships, SMUT MINORS DNI, blow job, unprotected sex, reader taking care of the prince as deserved,

PAIRING: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - March 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The moment Hyunjin stepped into the house, a sense of tranquillity washed over him, filling every corner of his being with a comforting embrace. The home had been completely transformed since he left as if his absence had somehow imbued it with an even greater sense of warmth and homeliness. 

The living room was bathed in the soft glow of evening light filtering through the blinds, it felt like peace compared to the bus he'd been cramped on for months. The coffee table had a vase of fresh cut flowers placed in them, so fresh he could smell them from the doorway and his body began to relax completely but the one thing putting him into a complete state of relaxation was the smell of cooking. Not just any cooking but Hyunjin's favourite meal that was greeting him, instantly warming his heart as he went toward the kitchen in the hunt for you.

In the kitchen, he found you standing by the stove, your sleeves rolled up as you tended to a pot simmering on the stove. The air was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of his favourite meal, a comforting blend of spices and flavours that instantly transported him back to simpler times.

"Hey, you're home!" You exclaimed, rushing over toward him and instantly wrapping your arms around him, his arms snaking around your waist as his head rested on the top of your head. This was what peace was, this was everything he ever wanted in life. To come home to you and this hug. He held you close, feeling the warmth of your embrace chase away the lingering chill of his travels. 

"I've missed you so much," he whispered, his voice filled with longing and affection. It had been far too long since he'd gotten to hold you and he wasn't planning on letting go so easily. You smiled to yourself, letting out a happy sigh as you snuggled your head into his chest. 

The two of you spoke almost every day whenever you could but it was hard when his schedule kept him so busy on tour, but you understood the risks of dating someone in his career and you accepted them. As long as he continued to come home to you, that was all you cared about. 

Slowly pulling back you looked up at him with eyes that sparkled with joy and love, you were almost afraid if you looked away he would suddenly disappear. 

"I've missed you too," You replied softly, your hand reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, it had grown so much longer since the last time you saw him and you knew it was going to be irritating him sooner or later.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by a wave of gratitude for having you in his life. Despite the distance and the challenges you faced, you were always there for him, supporting him and loving him unconditionally. No matter the rumour going around you stood by him, waiting for him to tell you his side before ever passing judgement. Always there to care for him whenever he was sick or overworked, you were always there and he couldn't have been more grateful for you.

"I can't believe you cooked my favourite meal," he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

"You really are the best." He kissed the top of your head as you grinned up at him, your eyes shining with happiness. 

"Well, I wanted to do something special for you," You said, your voice filled with warmth as you slowly went back over to the stove to make sure everything was cooking nicely. You had a whole night planned out for him and it wasn't going to end with just the meal,

"Welcome home, my love." You whispered as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder while he stood with you and you cooked. And at that moment, as you stood there together, surrounded by the aroma of his favourite meal and the love that filled the air, he knew that no matter where his travels took him, he would always find his way back to you.

After savouring every last bite of the meal you'd lovingly prepared, he felt a warmth spread through his body unlike any he had experienced before. It wasn't just the delicious flavours that filled him with contentment, but the knowledge that each bite was a tangible expression of your love and devotion. As he leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips, he felt a sense of peace wash over him. The worries and stresses of his time away seemed to melt away with each mouthful, replaced by a profound sense of gratitude for the love of his life sitting across from him.

"Wait right here," You whispered, your voice soft and soothing, you walked over to him, pressing a kiss to his temple and smirking to yourself.

"I have something special planned for you." Without giving him a chance to respond he watched as you disappeared from the room, anticipation fluttering in his chest like a butterfly's wings. 

Moments later, you returned, your arms cradling a stack of fluffy towels and a bottle of his favourite bath oil. 

"Come with me," You said, your voice a gentle melody that beckoned him to follow, almost like a siren's call and he was up in a flash, following after you in silence.

Together, you ascended the stairs, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows on the walls. As you reached the landing, you led him into the bathroom, where the air was heavy with the scent of lavender and eucalyptus.

With tender care, you began to fill the tub with warm water, the sound of rushing water a soothing symphony that filled the room. Once the tub was filled to the brim, you poured in a generous amount of bath oil, the fragrant aroma enveloping you both in a cloud of tranquillity.

"You don't have to do all of this for me," He mumbled a little, guilt weighing on him as he thought about all of the efforts you were going through for him. He'd been away so long and yet you were still doing all of this for him and a small part of him felt as though he should be the one to do this for you. 

"I want to, I missed you and want to take good care of you," You told him as you glanced over your shoulder, reading the look on his face easily and sending him a reassuring smile.

"But-"

"No buts, I want to do this and I will," You said sternly, making him chuckle a little as you stood up and turned to face him. 

"Now, it's time to relax." You whispered as you kissed him softly, slowly peeling off his clothes and dropping them into the laundry basket inside the room. Continuing to strip him and kiss his naked shoulders as you did so, smiling happily as you watched him sink further into relaxation.

Hyunjin stepped into the tub, sinking into the warm embrace of the water with a contented sigh. You knelt beside him, dipping a soft sponge into the water and beginning to wash away the cares of the day with gentle strokes. As you washed him, your touch was tender and loving, each caress a silent promise of your devotion. He closed his eyes, surrendering himself fully to the sensation of her hands moving over his skin, washing away the tension and fatigue that had accumulated during his time away.

"This is nice," He whispered, his head leaning back against the tub as you continued to wash his body gently. It was the first time touching him in a long time but it wasn't sexual, it was relaxing. 

"Lean forward." You whisper in his head, once he does you begin to run the sponge down his back, smiling as your boyfriend fully relaxes for you. 

"Thank you," He whispered as he leaned back against the tub, his eyes finding yours and smiling in a completely relaxed state. There was no place he'd rather be right now than right here,

"Anytime baby," You giggled a little, kissing him softly as he slipped further into the water, his eyes fluttering shut as you smiled leaning back against the tub enjoying him back with you. 

Hyunjin sucks in a sharp breath as he watches your soft lips wrap around his hard length, he couldn't remember how you'd gotten to the bedroom but he didn't care, he was in complete bliss. Your eyes flirt with him as you sink lower onto his shaft and back up again, his moans filling the room as his eyes flutter shut,

"F-Fuck I missed this," He mumbles, his hands clutching onto the sheets as you run your tongue up and down his length, using your hand to stroke what your mouth can't reach as your head bobs up and down, tracing the veins in his skin as you suck. 

"Just like that," He moans, his gaze now on you as you looked up at him, humming around him as you continue to suck him deeper, his praises filling you with determination. You wanted this to be the perfect welcome home for him and you were going to do anything for that to happen.

"Ffuuck," He hisses, your pace quickening as you suck him and stroke him faster, pulling off him to spit on the tip before taking him back into your mouth and to the back of your throat again,

"S-Stop...S-Stop," He begs as you pull back, afraid you'd done something wrong but he brought you onto his lap, kissing you deeply and hungrily as he wrapped his arms around you.

"I want to come with you," He whispered as he lined himself up at your entrance, your hands making their way into his hair and you bit down on his lip softly. 

"I need you" You whimpered, as he slowly pushed into you, your eyes squeezing shut at the stretch, it had been far too long since you'd been with one another but you needed this.

"Shit, Yn, you're so fucking tight," He groans, his head rolling back against the bed as you sank further onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his length as you breathed out a happy sigh,

"You're too big," You mumbled to him, rolling your hips slowly moving your hips in slow circles as his hands clutched onto your hips, there was no way he was going to last long, not when it had been too long since you were last together,

"Y-Yn," He stuttered out, he wanted this to be good for you too but he knew there was no chance he could make you come like this, not with how needy he was,

"This is all about you tonight," You breathed out, biting his ear softly as you slowly began to raise your hips only to let them fall again, rocking back and forth on him as he moaned your name out loudly. Your breathing went faster and shallower as you moved your hips faster on him, his hands digging into your hips as he groaned squeezing his eyes shut and trying to list off baseball players to distract him,

"Come for me baby, I missed you." You moaned out, looking down at him as he whimpered, his hips bucking wildly as he couldn't fight it anymore, the urge to come taking over him as he bucked into you, your pussy clenching around him as he thrusts harder and faster into you. Cumming suddenly as he whimpered your name out, sweat dripping down his forehead as you continued to ride him through his high.

"Maybe I should have made you bathe last," You teased, kissing his lips softly as he whimpered, unable to find words to speak at that moment.

"I'll run a fresh one and I'll join you this time," You told him, slowly getting up and smirking as you made your way to the bathroom, your boyfriend's eyes on you the whole time.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @piercedddriver

[dragonbornphoenix]

For the @drarrymicrofic | prompt: ground 187 words

The Language of Love ☕

Ground coffee. Draco’s gift to me every time he returns from his travels. Different blends, different flavours. Brands I’ve never heard of.

The taste is exquisite, the aroma divine. Where he finds them is anyone’s guess. How much they cost, I dare not think.

I made the mistake of asking him once. He spent the next half hour recounting how he had to harvest the coffee beans on his own while being chased by a cannibal tribe. A voodoo ritual was involved and a long sword fight atop a moving vehicle. It sounded suspiciously like Pirates of the Caribbean. The funny thing is there’s a chance he was telling the truth.

He calls me a heathen for drinking ‘Death’s discarded bathwater’ instead of tea. Yet he spent a month researching coffee makers before he bought me one for Christmas.

He has a different bag for me today, fresh from his latest trip. It's colourful and glossy. He plops it on my desk as if it’s a burden, the punishment for his former sins.

“I brought you coffee,” he says. What he means is “I love you.”

[springtyme]

𝐀 𝐁𝐨𝐰𝐥 𝐎𝐟 𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 ♡

John Price x reader || Main masterlist || John playlist

summary: You're feeling under the weather, so your husband takes care of you.

word count: 680

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟒) 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐝

You slowly open your eyes, the dim light filtering through the curtains making your head throb faintly. The soft cushions of the couch under you feel inviting yet suffocating as a wave of grogginess washes over you as you gain your senses back as you slowly get pulled out of your sleep. 

Your body is wrapped in a blanket, but it hardly warms the chill that has settled deep within you. The dull throb in your head makes it hard to concentrate on anything, and the grey clouds outside match your mood perfectly. With a soft sigh, you reach for your phone, but you already know there’s no urgent message waiting for you. All you want is to feel better.

You hear the gentle clatter of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. The aroma of simmering food drifts through the air, weaving itself into the cosy cocoon you’ve made for yourself in the living room. It’s a comforting scent that momentarily distracts you from your discomfort. You close your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the smell envelop you before you pull yourself together and decide to investigate the source of the lovely aroma. 

Rising from the couch feels like a monumental task, but the prospect of something warm and hearty is enough motivation to coax you to your feet.

As you shuffle into the kitchen, the scene before you makes you smile—John is standing at the stove, his broad back turned to you as he stirs a pot with a wooden spoon. You shuffle up behind him 

and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his back. The familiar warmth of his body feels like a shield against the chill that has seeped into your bones.

“Hey love,” he says softly, glancing back at you with a gentle smile that lights up his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

You reply with a weak smile, “You know… I’m surviving.”

“Just surviving? That’s not good enough.” He turns off the heat and sets the wooden spoon down before turning to face you fully. “Come here.” He opens his arms, and you step into his embrace, relishing the warmth and safety it provides.

“What are you making?” you ask, curiosity piqued as you shift slightly in his arms, looking up at him.

“Scouse, to warm you up,” he replies, his hands resting tenderly on your back. “It was what I used to get as a boy when I was feeling under the weather. Thought it might do the trick for you too.”

You can’t help but smile, picturing John as a little boy in a cosy, bustling kitchen, the smell of hearty stew filling the air as his mother busily prepared him something comforting. The image brings a sense of nostalgia that softens the dull ache in your head. “That sounds perfect,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

John’s expression brightens, as though you’ve just given him the greatest gift.

“Did I ever tell you about how my mum used to make scouse?” he asks as he gently runs a hand over your back in a soothing pattern. “She always said the secret is to let it cook slowly, so all the flavours blend together perfectly.”

You chuckle softly, feeling the easy affection in his stories. “And eat it when you’re sick?”

“Exactly. It’s the best remedy. Add a little love, and it’ll cure anything.” He leans back against the counter, pulling you a little closer against his chest. “Well, almost anything.” 

As you watch him, a wave of comfort washes over you. It’s the way he moves around the kitchen, the way he takes the time to make something special for you, even when you don’t feel your best. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“You deserve it.”

His words wrap around, filling you with warmth and affection. In that moment, the world outside fades away—the grey clouds, the biting cold, even the dull throbbing in your head becomes a little more tolerable, eclipsed by the soothing presence of your husband.

[waitforyrlove]

slytherin ! matt pays for you, as you didn’t bring money.

you step off the carriage, your boots sinking slightly into the snow-covered cobblestones of Hogsmeade. The winter air nips at your cheeks, and a shiver runs down your spine. The faint glow of fairy lights hanging from the eaves of the shops twinkle through the falling snowflakes, making the whole place look like something out of a storybook.

you inhale deeply, the comforting scent of pumpkin pasties and the spiced aroma of butterbeer mingling with the crispness of the snow. The stress of recent exams slowly begins to melt away with every breath you take. This was exactly what you needed—a day to yourself, to wander through the village.

pushing open the heavy wooden door, a little bell jingles overhead, announcing your arrival. Inside, the warmth is immediate, and you smile as you take in the rows upon rows of sweets, each more colorful and whimsical than the last. You approach the counter, where a friendly witch with rosy cheeks stands ready to take your order.

“Just a simple Honeydukes bar, please,” you say with a soft smile, your voice almost getting lost in the lively hum of the shop. As she nods and turns to prepare it, you let your gaze wander around the cozy interior. Your eyes trace the shelves stacked with Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's every flavour beans, and glittering sugar quills.

but then, as your eyes move towards the far end of the shop, they land on a familiar figure. Matt, with his brunette hair and that unmistakable crooked grin, is standing with a group of his friends, laughing at something one of them just said. Your heart skips a beat, and you quickly turn your head, hoping he hasn’t seen you.

why no matter where you went, Matt always seemed to be there? It was like an invisible thread tied you together, pulling him into your orbit every time you tried to get some space. You can’t help but wonder if he feels the same, if he ever notices this strange connection as much as you do

you try to focus on something else, anything else, but it’s impossible to ignore the way your heart races whenever he’s near. The bell on the door rings again, and for a split second, you think about leaving before he spots you, but before you can move, you hear the familiar, almost musical sound of his laughter.

taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that today is supposed to be about you, about finding peace and enjoyment in the little things, like a simple chocolate bar from Honeydukes. You try to center yourself, grounding your thoughts on the warmth of the shop, the comforting smells, and the gentle hum of people around you.

but as you glance up, you catch his reflection in the glass display case—a small, almost imperceptible moment where his eyes meet yours through the array of shimmering sweets. It’s brief, just a flicker, but enough to send a rush of warmth through you, even in the middle of the winter chill.

you couldn’t help but glance at Matt’s outfit as he walked past, your eyes drawn to the boldness of his red and black plaid jacket. The large checks of the fabric seemed to suit him perfectly, the rich colors standing out against the muted tones of the snowy surroundings. The jacket had an intriguing design—both classic and modern, effortlessly blending style with comfort.

his baggy black pants completed the look, adding a casual, laid-back vibe to his ensemble. They hung loosely around his legs, the fabric swaying slightly as he moved, giving him an air of confidence.

you quickly snap out of your trance, Matt’s presence momentarily forgotten as the witch behind the counter breaks the silence. “Honey? That will be $2.65, please,” she says kindly, her voice warm and patient. You reach for your skirt pocket, expecting to feel the familiar texture of your coin pouch. But your fingers meet nothing but the smooth fabric. A wave of panic washes over you as you realize you’ve left your money back in your room. How could you have been so careless and forget about a important thing?

“I-I didn’t bring…” you stammer quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. Embarrassment colors your cheeks as the reality of your situation sets in. The thought of having to tell the kind witch you couldn’t pay, and possibly upsetting her, knots your stomach with nerves. You curse yourself inwardly, feeling foolish.

but before the witch can respond, a shadow falls over you, and suddenly Matt is beside you, his presence both unexpected and disarming. He doesn’t say a word as he smoothly places a bill on the counter, paying for your purchase without a second thought. The witch smiles and takes the money, handing him the change before moving on to help the next customer.

your mouth falls open in shock, eyes wide as you look up at Matt. Of all people, he was the last person you’d expected to step in and help. Yet here he was, composed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You’re surprised, and more than a little flustered.

“Sweetheart,” Matt says with a chuckle, the nickname rolling off his tongue with ease, “I expected you to be smart enough not to forget your money in your room.”

His tone is teasing, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat. You feel a mix of emotions—gratitude, embarrassment, and a flutter of something else that you can’t quite place. All you can do is nod, managing a small, sheepish smile in response, the words you want to say tangled up in your throat.

"Why would you ever pay for it?" you blurt out, the words slipping past your lips before you can catch them. Gratitude hangs somewhere in the back of your mind, but curiosity and confusion push it aside.

Matt’s response is a low chuckle, the sound rolling effortlessly off his tongue, as if the whole situation is amusing to him. He glances at you, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes, and shrugs nonchalantly.

“Felt generous,” he says, as though it’s the simplest explanation in the world. “Didn’t really feel like watching you embarrass yourself in front of everyone in here.” His tone is teasing, but not unkind, more like he’s pointing out something endearing rather than a fault. “Besides,” he adds, his grin widening, “forgetting about money? That’s quite a move. Thought you might need a little saving.”

you shake your head, trying to hide the warmth creeping into your cheeks. “Well, it’s not like I planned to forget,” you retort, but your voice is softer, the initial embarrassment slowly fading.

“That’s the nicest I’ve caught you being," you chuckle, your voice softening as you glance up at Matt. Your eyes linger on his jawline, tracing the sharp angles, before drifting down to his hands. Two silver rings catch the light, glinting like promises unspoken. You can't help but imagine what it would feel like to have that cold metal brush against your skin, preferably, feeling it against your thighs, his fingers pumping in and ou- no, you can’t think about dirty thoughts,not certainly with Matthew.

Matt’s smirk deepens as he catches the flicker of something more in your eyes, something that sends a subtle charge through the air between you. He leans in just slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "Careful. I might start thinking you’re enjoying my company."

your heart skips a beat as the space between you seems to shrink. His words are laced with a hint of challenge, a dare that you can feel humming beneath the surface. You let out a soft laugh, trying to keep things light, but the tension lingers, wrapping around you like a slow, tightening coil.

“Maybe I am,” you reply, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them. There’s a boldness to your tone that surprises even you. You glance back at his hands, those silver rings now a magnet for your gaze, drawing you in with a pull that’s hard to resist.

Matt’s eyes follow yours, and for a moment, it feels as if the world has stopped, leaving just the two of you suspended in this moment of possibility, and once again, you’rs wondering what it would feel like if he reached out, if those cold bands of metal met your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You should be careful with thoughts like that,” he murmurs, his voice smooth, but there’s an edge to it—a warning, or perhaps an invitation. The way he looks at you now, his gaze steady and unreadable, makes your breath catch. It’s as though he’s daring you to take the next step, to close the gap that hangs between curiosity and something much more dangerous.

and as you meet his eyes, a thrill runs through you—a thrill that whispers of all the things you’ve only ever imagined but never dared to reach for.

the air between you thickens, charged with an electricity that neither of you can ignore. Matt’s eyes darken, and there’s a tension in his jaw, a flicker of restraint that only makes your pulse race faster. He shifts slightly closer, his presence overwhelming in the best way, making it harder to remember why you should be cautious, why you should hold back.

“Am I being too reckless?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, though it carries the weight of a deeper question. You’re not just talking about your words; you’re talking about the line you’re both toeing, the unspoken boundary that’s grown thinner with every second.

his gaze flickers down to your lips, just for a heartbeat, but it’s enough to send warmth pooling low in your belly. “Maybe,” he replies, his voice rougher now, the careful control slipping just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the desire simmering beneath. “But that’s never stopped you before, has it?”

the way he says it, almost like a challenge, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, makes you ache with a need that’s becoming harder to deny. You don’t move away, don’t even flinch, as he reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm, the heat rising in your skin each second passing.

it’s the smallest touch, barely there, but it feels like a touch you wanna feel it every minute. His thumb traces a slow, deliberate path, leaving a trail of fire in its wake, and you can’t stop the soft gasp that escapes your lips. Your eyes meet his, and you see the resolve in them waver, just for a second, before he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

“I can’t promise you this won’t end badly, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice so low it sends a shiver down your spine. “But if you want to keep going… I won’t stop you.”

his words hang in the air, heavy with anticipation, and you realize the decision is yours now. The space between you is a heartbeat away from disappearing entirely, and the temptation to cross it, to feel his hands—those rings—against your skin, grows stronger with every passing moment.

but just as the tension reaches its peak, Matt pulls back, his expression shifting to something more guarded, but the smirk still there. The warmth that had been building between you cools in an instant, leaving you feeling suddenly exposed.

“This is not the end of our banter,” he says, more to himself than to you, as if wrestling with some inner conflict. His hand drops from your arm.

for a moment, he lingers, his eyes searching yours, as if he’s about to say something more. But then, without another word, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with a mix of needing and disappointment churning in your chest.

but you’re not letting him tease you with his touch like he’s winning.

[sillylittlerebelsblog]

You don't understand.

No , you really don't understand the importance of soup. I want soup with everything. No I don't want stir fry , I want soup. What a beautiful invention , soup is. Soup is a warm hug served in a bowl. I am convinced soup is cure to many sufferings .Cure to loneliness - Soup. Cure to anger - soup. Cure to cold - soup. Cure to fever - soup. Cure to insomnia- soup ( in my case) Cure to love sickness - soup. Cure to hunger- soup. Cure to home sickness - soup. Here's my recipe of soup.

Take a pot , put some mustard oil. Add cumin seeds , let them pop like mini crackers. Now add fresh thinly sliced green chillies. Add red ones too , if you want your snot to run out of your nose and tears to run out of your eyes. Now add minced garlic ( upto heart extent) , let it fry until golden brown. Inhale the aroma. Fill it inside of your lungs , let it open your nose and perhaps your soul. Now add diced onions. Fry until almost translucent. Now take blended tomatoes , add it slowly , let it tear down the stubborn garlic that's stuck to your pan ( if you are using non - stick pans , well.......) Now stir the soup for half a minute before adding , your beautiful water. Mix , mix , mix. Add your sodium and spices ( I used turmeric and garam masala) Put it on high flame till the water boils and you see bubbles dancing. Now put the flame on slow , add one table spoon rice ( or pasta ; if you prefer to eat it with bread skip this step) and let your rice soften , let it absorb that dense flavour and let it simmer for a while. Meanwhile, take a bunch or fresh coriander stems. Separate the leaves and wash them under your tap. On the chopping board , cut them finely ( as a bunch) Once the rice is soft , put off the flame. Add the finely chopped coriander leaves and cover the pot again. Let the latent heat do it's job ( cook the rice more and introduce coriander to the soup ) Wait for 10 minutes, set your table perhaps. Take a big bowl , transfer the soup into it. Add one teaspoon of ghee ( type of clarified butter ) and squeeze half a lemon into it. Do not ask me about the quantities for I cook with my intuition. I hope this soup cures things you don't talk about , I hope this soup gives you the strength to fight your inner demons and I absolutely hope that this soups changes the trajectory of your life in the best way possible. Thank the soup for fixing your life before having it.

Loads of love,

Sillylittlerebel <3

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

hey! another Carlos x desi!reader where they both live in Madrid. And Carlos has gotten a two month break (let's say the break that's been going after the abu dhabi grand prix).

it's the morning after, where she's still in bed cause Carlos told her he wants to surprise her with breakfast in bed. And he makes poha (or anything else you want to go with sorry! it's just I'm marathi so like I'm a certified poha lover like every other marathi person) and also makes her favourite adrak wali chai. She's surprised how did he make all this and he tells her that he had learnt from her mom when he has been to India with her for diwali. He wanted to make her happy by making some homemade desi food for her because she misses food made by her mom

seal of approval˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

⟢ cs x desi!reader ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

⟢ fluff ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

masterlist ☾☼

it's the morning after the abu dhabi grand prix, and carlos gets a richly deserved two-month break. you're still in bed, the madrid sun barely visible through the curtains, when you hear carlos clattering around in the kitchen. he'd told you that he would surprise you with breakfast in bed, and the delicious smell wafting through the apartment certainly got your attention.

you stretch out languidly, a small smile on your lips. carlos was always so considerate, even with his wild schedule. you wonder what gastronomic masterpiece he's come up with this time. perhaps some churros? or maybe those yummy 'huevos rotos' he knows you adore?

a few minutes pass, and carlos enters the room with the flourish of a practiced waiter, balancing a tray in his hands. your eyes go wide with wonder. it's not churros. it's not huevos rotos. it's… poha! and not only that, but the very poha your mom used to make, perfectly balanced between sweet, sour, and spicy. next to it is a steaming cup of adrak wali chai, its ginger aroma blending well with the smell of the poha.

"sweet surprise!" carlos smiles, his eyes aglow with slyness. "hope you like it. know it's a bit not typical spanish food, but…"

you sit up straight, resting back against the pillows, completely aghast. "carlos… how….?" you have the presence of mind to exclaim, indicating towards the tray. "poha? made by you? and chai?"

he grins, setting the tray in your lap. "well, i had a secret advantage. do you remember when we traveled to india for diwali with your family? i might have picked up a few… cooking tips from your mom. she's an amazing instructor, you know."

you look at him, a combination of amazement and love churning within you. "you learned how to make poha from my mom? just to surprise me?"

carlos shrugs, a sheepish smile spreading over his face. "well, i know you get homesick sometimes, and especially miss your mom's cooking. i thought… maybe a little bit of home would bring you joy."

you can't help but giggle, a warm sensation filling your chest. "joy? carlos, i'm beyond joy! this is… this is the kindest thing anybody's ever done for me."

you bite into the poha, and your eyelids shut in rapture. it is exactly like your mom's – airy, light, and exploding with flavour. the adrak wali chai complements it just right, making you warm inside.

"it's perfect," you whisper, a true smile on your lips. "absolutely perfect."

carlos looks at you, his face relaxing. "i'm happy you like it. i was a little anxious, honestly. your mom has pretty high standards."

"she does," you confirm, taking another bite of poha. "but you know what? i think you've officially got her seal of approval."

carlos smiles, clearly happy. "really? that's high praise indeed."

you both laze around the morning in bed, talking and giggling, the madrid sunlight and the softness of desi home food pouring into the air. and while you take your last sip of chai, you can't help but feel that you are really lucky to have carlos with you. he may not be a marathi, but he definitely knows the path to your heart – through yummy poha and a whole lot of love.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

i hope you like this! im sorry it took me so long to write this! i have been taking a bit of a break recently! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @anamiad00msday ; @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @peterholland04 ; @justaf1girl ; @greantii ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry ; @hiireadstuff

i'd love your support! https://ko-fi.com/kavi2305

[littlest-w01f]

In the Shadows

Azriel x Mohini

AZRIEL MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: He's watching her, and has been since he first came to Dawn Court for business, the ethereal dancer that struck in the hearts of not only her people but all of Prythian with every performance

Cw: Stalker!Az

part one - part two

As Mohini entered her humble home, the familiar scent of sandalwood and jasmine enveloped her, a comforting aroma that always seemed to soothe her frayed nerves. She shed her travelling clothes, donning a simple silk robe instead, before making her way to the bathroom.

Azriel watched from the darkness, his senses heightened as he listened to the sounds of her movements, the rustle of fabric, the splash of water, the gentle humming of a tune as she went about her rituals. He knew every inch of her home, every nook and cranny, just as he knew every detail of her life.

Azriel watched from the shadows as Mohini settled into her nightly routine, his heart aching with a longing he couldn't quite comprehend. He knew every detail, every intimate gesture, as if he had been a part of her life for years.

Azriel knew her by heart, how Mohini would oil her hair, exactly which oils she would use, to clean her hair from the sprays and chemicals used to keep them in place through her performances. He knew she would use cocoa butter for her legs, arms, and neck to ensure they didn't pain in the morning.

In the dimly lit room, Azriel caught glimpses of her reflection in the mirror as she worked through her nighttime ritual, her movements fluid and graceful. His thoughts wandered, imagining what it would be like to be the one touching her, massaging the oils into her skin. If she would enjoy his hands on her, despite how ruined they were.

With a contented sigh, Mohini tied the sash of her silk robe more securely around her waist, the soft fabric draping elegantly across her curves, outlining her body as she fluffed up her pillow to settle in, pouring herself some tea from the night stand, that she'd made the second she walked in, setting the flowers down on the centre table in the dining room of her house.

Azriel's gaze lingered on the outline of her curves beneath the silk robe, his mind conjuring images of tracing those contours with his fingertips, mapping the shape of her body with reverent care. He imagined the feel of her skin, warm and inviting, the taste of her lips, sweet and intoxicating. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, a wave of desire washing over him.

Her night routine wasn't the only thing Azriel knew of Mohini, he knew how she took her tea, and what Dawn foods were her favourite. Azriel's mind raced with the knowledge he possessed, the secrets he had uncovered during his months-long surveillance.

He knew her favourite books, the passages she marked, the ones she highlighted with shimmering markers. He knew the melodies that stirred her soul, the dance steps that made her lose herself in the music, what her favourite moves were, seen her twirling around to the music in her own head. He even knew the special blend of herbs and spices she liked to add to her cooking, the ones that brought out the subtlest yet strong flavours.

He knew her better than anyone, perhaps even better than she knew herself. Every detail, every quirk, every secret - they were all etched into his memory, a treasure trove of information that he guarded with his heart.

He watched as she sipped her tea, her eyes fluttering closed in blissful satisfaction. He knew the exact temperature she preferred it, the perfect ratio of milk to water, and the precise number of minutes to steep the leaves. It was as if he had been inside her mind, privy to her innermost thoughts and desires. But even with all this knowledge, Azriel still craved more.

He watched through his shadows as Mohini finished her tea, placing the delicate cup back on its saucer with practised precision. The shadows shifted, adjusting their position to maintain optimal visibility without alerting her to their presence. Azriel's heart swelled with pride at their diligence and their unwavering loyalty to their mission. No harm would come to Mohini while they stood watch. Of that much, Azriel was certain. After all, they were but vessels for his own protective instincts honed to a razor-sharp edge over countless months of obsessive devotion.

Azriel's shadows danced along the walls of Mohini's bedroom, silent sentinels guarding over their mistress. As Mohini drifted off to sleep, they swirled and danced in the flickering candlelight, a mesmerizing display of dark energy that seemed to pulse with a life of its own.

A few hours into her sleep, Mohini was woken up by a sudden noise, a creak of floorboards, a rustling of fabric. Her heart leapt into her throat as she sat bolt upright, her eyes scanning the darkened room for any sign of movement.

A shadow detached itself from the others, moving with purpose towards the bed where Mohini lay. She froze, her breath catching in her throat as the sliver of shadow loomed closer, "What the-?"

She reached forward to touch the shadow and it curled around her wrist, its touch cold. She got out from under her covers, ready to make her way downstairs to the sound.

The shadow pulled away from her wrist, moving to caress her cheeks, making her giggle instead of being scared, "You're not my secret admirer are you?" The shadow guided her down the stairs, following her lead as she descended into the depths of her own home. She shook her head of the thought, someone could kill you, Mohini! She reminded herself.

Everything in the main part of her house was the same as she had left it. She had afforded the place with the money she earned dancing, successfully turning her hobby into her job, spending centuries on her craft that made her as popular as she was.

Mohini moved through the rooms with practised ease, her bare feet whispering against the polished hardwood floors. In the living room, she paused to admire the arrangement of fresh flowers on the coffee table, a bouquet of her favourite blooms, peonies and hydrangeas in shades of pink and white. The delicate petals seemed to glow in the candlelight, filling the air with their sweet fragrance.

"Who could have done this?" She wondered aloud, her voice barely above a whisper, a chill running down her spine that someone had broken into her house. The strange shadow was pulling at her robe, as if trying to lead her somewhere. The shadow followed closely behind her, its form becoming more defined as it mirrored her movements. The ethereal entity seemed almost playful now, guiding her through the house with a tender touch. "What are you...?"

In the kitchen, the shadow led her to the centre island, where a single candle burned, casting a warm, golden glow over the space. On the counter beside the candle sat a small, exquisitely crafted wooden box adorned with intricate carvings and symbols that seemed to shimmer in the candlelight. Mohini's curiosity piqued, she reached out to open the lid, revealing a note written in the same elegant script as before.

"For you, my love, since you must be running out."

Mohini's heart skipped a beat as she picked up the hair oils, inhaling deeply as she recognized the familiar scents. The scent of lavender and chamomile filled the air, calming her nerves.

She shook her head, shoving the glass bottles away. Mohini looked down at the gift once more, her fingers tracing the delicate engravings on the box. It was as though her secret admirer was leaving her little clues, little tokens of affection. Mohini turned to look at the fresh bouquet of flowers. She smiled despite herself, they were beautiful, her favourite.

Azriel's shadows continued their vigilance, watching from the corners of the room as Mohini admired the flowers. They buzzed with a strange sense of satisfaction knowing that they had played a part in bringing such joy to her face.

The shadows seemed to have scattered throughout the house. She could see the faint outlines of them in different rooms. Her bedroom, upstairs, was empty when she came up after checking the rest of the house.

After Mohini blew out the candle, she checked the doors and windows thoroughly, making sure everything was shut with locks and spells, not wanting another break-in from her stalker. Stalker, not an admirer. Not that there was any different between the two for her.

After ensuring that all the doors and windows were secure, Mohini made her way back to her bedroom. She climbed back onto her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She tried to ignore the nagging feeling of unease that gnawed at her insides, but found herself staring at the ceiling, wide awake.

The shadows, however, remained vigilant. They flitted about the room, their forms undulating like smoke in the breeze. Each one seemed to take turns hovering near Mohini's bedside, under her bed, to watch over her.

Mohini couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. She tossed and turned, her mind racing with thoughts of her mysterious admirer and the unsettling events of the past few weeks.

Mohini's eyelids grew heavy, and soon she drifted off to sleep. Once again, Azriel's shadow servants stood watch as Mohini slumbered peacefully beneath the cover of darkness. They flitted about the room, their ethereal forms shifting and swirling in hypnotic patterns that seemed to draw the very essence of the night into their midst.

One particularly bold shadow crept closer to the sleeping woman, drifting just above the surface of her pillow until its wispy tendrils brushed gently against her cheek. Mohini stirred slightly, a faint smile playing upon her lips as if her subconscious acknowledged the comforting presence of her unseen shadow guardian.

{General Taglist- @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-angst @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo @mellowmusings @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tele86 @thelov3lybookworm @romanticatheartt}

{Azriel Taglist- @fxckmiup @annamariereads16 @saltedcoffeescotch @fieldofdaisiies}

[healthywaysfitness]

Baking Tasty Vegetarian Cakes At Home Is Simple!

Mastering Vegetarian Cake Preparation: Ingredients, Recipe, and More Explore the art of vegetarian cake preparation. This comprehensive guide provides insights into essential ingredients, delicious recipes, and baking techniques. Uncover the secrets to mastering this healthy and delightful baking craft. Vegetarian cake preparation is a delightful blend of art and science, a culinary journey that transcends the traditional boundaries of baking. 

Please visit https://youtube.com/@HealthDishes

A perfect vegetarian cake is a symphony of taste, texture, and aroma, a testament to the baker's mastery of ingredients, recipes, and techniques. This article explores the nuances of mastering vegetarian cake preparation, providing you with a detailed guide to the essential ingredients, recipes, and techniques you need to create your own vegetarian cake masterpiece. Exploring the Art of Vegetarian Cake Making: 

Essential Ingredients, Recipes, and Techniques: 

Vegetarian cake making is all about understanding your ingredients and how they interact. Traditional cake recipes often call for eggs, which provide structure and moisture. In vegetarian baking, these can be replaced with alternatives such as applesauce, mashed bananas, or flaxseeds mixed with water. Other essential ingredients include flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and a variety of flavourings and spices. When it comes to recipes, there's a world of possibilities. From classic vanilla sponge to rich chocolate fudge, you can find a vegetarian version of virtually any cake. Mastering the techniques is the final piece of the puzzle. This includes everything from mixing the batter correctly to baking it at the right temperature and time.

 #VegetarianBaking #VegetarianCakes #EgglessBaking #HealthyBaking #BakingTips #CakeRecipes #VegetarianRecipes #BakingTechniques #Baking101 #CakeLo 

Mastering vegetarian cake preparation is a rewarding journey, a culinary adventure that offers endless possibilities for creativity and innovation. By understanding the essential ingredients, experimenting with different recipes, and honing your baking techniques, you can create a variety of delicious and healthy cakes that everyone can enjoy. Whether you're a seasoned baker looking to expand your repertoire or a novice eager to explore the world of vegetarian baking, the key is to enjoy the process and let your passion for baking shine through. After all, the secret ingredient in any great cake is always love.

[whalesforhands]

instant ramen and friendship (satosugu x reader)

warnings: first year!SSS, satosugu ‘flirting’, gege if u hear me pls let me have my satosugu fluff, avid believer that gojo never ate any ‘instant’ food until geto

“I don’t eat peasant food.” Gojo Satoru’s crossing his arms as he stares at the pot of instant ramen Suguru and yourself were cooking.

“Then don’t eat.” Geto Suguru’s cold reply to the petulant classmate of his, stirring the contents within the boiling pot as you stood beside him, trying to fry the eggs as inconspicuously as you possibly can, nervously trying to tiptoe further away from the duo’s teetering on almost flirtatious argument.

Silence.

You peek over your shoulder only to see Gojo’s impertinent stare stuck on the back of Geto’s head, eyes narrowed in irritation with brows furrowed deep, shoulders hunching in as he tapped his foot against the ground.

You have to admit, their relationship… Has been improving lately.

From that moment the duo had come back from their mission together, Geto’s arm slung over Gojo’s shoulders whilst clutching his bandaged torso, effectively using the Six Eyes user as a crutch, hobbling to his side whenever his injury seemed to worsen slightly.

Or when Gojo would go and bother him by strutting into his room, demanding another ride on his flying cursed spirits or to show him around a peculiar area nearby.

“When you said you’d treat me for saving your life, this isn’t what I thought I’d be getting.”

“Oh, well.” He turns to look the sorcerer in the eye. “I’m so sorry, revered one. We’re just students on a measly allowance without the funds for an ultra high class luxury experience.”He ends with a roll of his eyes, huffing and tucking a strand of his free neck-length hair back.

“Ah, (last name)-san. Could you help me chop the green onions afterwards—.” You pause in your administrations with the knife, green onion already being halfway diced before you nearly nick yourself.

“Ah, I’m sorry. Please be careful.” His hand is immediately over yours, causing a restless shiver to go up your spine as you stiffen.

“It’ll be bad if you get hurt, won’t it?” Suguru is flashing you a sweet smile, one of care and concern for your well-being as you nod.

You stiffly waddle to the side as he leaves to go get more garlic seasoning, shaking your head to snap out of it.

You eyes surreptitiously take this chance to watch Gojo again, his body language… Somehow more telling than his ice cold, holier-than-thou attitude that hides an intrigued, hungry teenaged boy.

The way his eyes flicker to the boiling pot, to the fried eggs, the slight twitch of his nose as he takes another whiff of the air.

To even the way his feet seemed to nudge him forward ever so slightly, uncertain steps that didn’t know what to do. …does he want to help?

“Gojo-san.” You take a hesitant gulp, steeling your nerves for a prickly reply. “Is there anything you want to put in?”

“…”

“Cheese.”

——

Geto takes off the steaming lid, revealing the gorgeously placed in a neat manner, practically shining with promise of a gastronomical experience.

“And there you go. My special recipe.” Your eyes are lighting up at the sight, the aroma of the food doing little to sate your overpowering hunger as you watch.

“Pfft. I’ve seen it before. It’s just noodles in artificial—“

“That’s where you’re wrong, you pompous elite.” He has a proud smirk on his face. “This one’s got my special stock addition, green onions, spam, fried eggs and cheese.” A hand is proudly placed upon his hip as he closes his eyes, pleased and gratified at the result of his cooking prowess.

(Even if it was only instant ramen.)

Gojo narrows his eyes in suspicion. “There is no possible way something instant coul-“

“Just shut up and eat.”

Surprisingly, he listens. He picks his chopsticks up, muttering a quiet thanks for the food before taking a tentative slurp of his noodles, pausing in place as the broth seeped into his tongue and exploded in the most perfect, most wondrous blend of flavour in his mouth.

His eyes widen in pleasant surprise, oceanic eyes flickering between the steaming bowl of ramen and back to your two awaiting gazes.

He inhales his portion, akin to a wild beast that had been starved of prey for at least a year with the pace he was going at, you could even see how many gulps he took of the broth when he picked the rather sizeable bowl up to swallow it all down.

(It was less than 5. And Suguru made a rather large portion after noticing how much he and Satoru could eat combined.)

(“A-are you okay? You shouldn’t—“

“Let him choke, (last name)-san.”)

…

He gingerly places the bowl down, licking his lips to savour the remnants of the food.

“I want more.”

“Oh? Looks like someone’s missing a magic word.” Geto feints a pout, narrowed eyes with playful malice directed towards the spoilt teenager.

“…please.” Gojo’s averting his gaze, looking to the side as a noticeable blush is seen across his face.

“How unfortunate, that was the last pack.”

masterlist

Notes:

You are the only one who thinks their banter is flirtatious.

“Oiii, I’m back.” Ieiri calls out, kicking her loafers off as she tiredly drags herself into the common living area.

“Do you all want to grab a bite?” She’s staring at her phone as she continues in. “You can be invited too, rich boy.”

You pop out from the corner. “Ieiri…” You look frightened and stressed, a loud crash coming from the kitchen just as you flinch.

Another loud bang sounds out as you jump, the clash of pots and utensils sounding out as you practically block her passage into the warzone.

“Please do not step inside…”

“…you okay with crepes?”

“Sure…”

Gojo bought a carton full of that particular ramen brand after he squeezed it out of Geto. He asks you to help him with the stove when Suguru refuses to.

[liyue-harbour]

happy birthday, your grace

happiest birthday to my favourite genshin character, wriothesley! 🫶🏻 a ‘lil something for his special day, i hope that you all enjoy it <33

masterlist

“what is all this?” wriothesley inquired, his tone a curios mixture of sternness and genuine interest.

his office, once adorned with rich tapestries and antique furnishings that held an air of refined elegance now carried a different note—a note of celebration and warmth. it was wriothesley’s birthday, and against the backdrop of his meticulously organised desk, you had orchestrated a small surprise. a modest tea set adorned the polished surface, delicate porcelain cups reflecting the soft glow of the antique lamps. a simple yet decadent cake, adorned with intricate icing that mirrored the patterns of fontaine sat in the center, waiting to be enjoyed.

as the day drew to a close, you ushered wriothesley into his office, a conspiratorial smile playing on your lips. the surprise in his stormy eyes was evident as he took in the unexpected scene before him. his office did not look like this when he left earlier.

“it’s a celebration, your grace.” you replied, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “a modest affair but a celebration nonetheless.”

a flicker of surprise crossed wriothesley’s features before being replaced by a measured composure. “i see,” he said, gaze lingering on the tea set and the cake. “and what is the occasion?”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at his feigned obviousness. “wrio…,” you declared with a mock solemnity, “it’s your birthday.”

he regarded you with a raised eyebrow, a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his lips. “very well,” he acquiesced, taking a step closer. “shall we proceed with this…celebration?”

the two of you settled into the plush chairs, and you poured the fragrant tea into the delicate cups. the room was bathed in a arm, golden glow as the lamps cast their light upon the scene, creating an ambience that felt both regal and intimate.

“you do realise,” wriothesley remarked, taking a sip of tea, “that celebrations of this nature are not a customary affair in fontaine.”

“consider it a deviation from the customary, then,” you suggested, a playful twinkle in your eyes. “a chance to break free from tradition and enjoy the simpler pleasures of life.” he hums, and for a moment, the weight of his responsibilities seemed to lift.

you clinked your tea cup against his, and the rich aroma of the tea envelopes the room, filling the space with a sense of tranquility. after a while, you signalled to the cake, it’s tempting allure impossible to ignore. “shall we indulge in a slice of fontaine’s finest creation?” you suggested, gesturing towards the cake adorned with edible depictions of the nation’s iconic landmarks.

wriothesley nodded, and you carefully sliced a portion for each of you. the cake was a masterpiece, it’s layers a harmonious blend of flavours that elicited a quiet hum of satisfaction with every bite. as the last crumbs disappeared, you couldn’t help but notice the genuine smile that graced wriothesley’s lips—the kind of smile that was rare and precious. the atmosphere, once steeped in the formalities of the fortress, now held a warmth that transcended the grandeur of the office.

“thank you for this,” wriothesley said, his voice carrying a sincerity that reached the depth of his stormy eyes. “this has been an unexpected but pleasant deviation from the usual routine.”

the glow of the lamps seemed to intensify, casting a soft radiance over the room, “it’s the least i could do,” you replied, own smile reflecting the joy of the moment. “birthdays are meant to be celebrated, even the almighty duke’s.” wriothesley chuckles as he takes another sip of tea.

“happy birthday, wriothesley. i love you so much.”

“i love you too”

[callsigns-haze]

Short love: Prologue

Summary: The is about widowed father Bradley Bradshaw who enlists his brother-in-law Jake Seresin and childhood best friend Robert Floyd to help raise his three daughters, eldest Donna Jo Margaret (D.J for short), middle child Stephanie and youngest Michelle in his San Diego home. 

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Warning: Fluff

In the warm embrace of the morning sun, Y/n stood in Bradley's cozy kitchen, a sense of excitement bubbling within her as she prepared to whip up a batch of pancakes from scratch. The tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the sweet scent of vanilla and cinnamon that would soon infuse the fluffy pancakes.

With a deft hand, Y/n measured out flour, baking powder, and a pinch of salt into a mixing bowl, the ingredients coming together in a cloud of soft white powder. She cracked eggs into the bowl, their golden yolks adding richness to the batter, and poured in a splash of creamy milk.

As she whisked the ingredients together, Y/n's mind drifted back to fond memories of lazy Sunday mornings spent in her grandmother's kitchen, learning the art of pancake-making from the master herself. She smiled at the thought, grateful for the tradition that had been passed down through generations.

Adding a dollop of melted butter and a hint of pure maple syrup to the batter, Y/n stirred until it was smooth and silky, the mixture taking on a golden hue that promised deliciousness with every bite. With a satisfied nod, she set the bowl aside to rest, allowing the flavours to meld and develop while she heated up the griddle.

The sizzle of butter hitting the hot surface filled the kitchen as Y/n ladled spoonful's of batter onto the griddle, each one spreading out into perfect circles of golden goodness. She watched with anticipation as bubbles formed on the surface of the pancakes, signalling that it was time to flip them over to cook on the other side.

With a flick of her wrist, Y/n expertly flipped the pancakes, their edges turning crisp and golden as they cooked to perfection. The kitchen was filled with the mouth-watering aroma of caramelized sugar and warm spices, beckoning her nieces to the breakfast table with eager anticipation.

As Y/n finished up the last batch of pancakes, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching from the hallway. Moments later, Stephanie and DJ, her two oldest nieces, appeared in the kitchen, their faces lighting up with surprise and delight at the sight of the delicious breakfast spread before them.

"Good morning, Aunt Y/n!" Stephanie exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. "What's all this?"

Y/n turned to greet them, her smile widening at the sight of their eager expressions. "Good morning, girls!" she replied, her voice warm and jovial. "I thought I'd whip up a little breakfast treat for my favourite nieces."

DJ and Stephanie exchanged a look of disbelief, their eyes widening in astonishment. "You made all this?" DJ asked, her voice tinged with amazement.

Y/n nodded proudly, gesturing towards the table where plates of fluffy pancakes, bowls of fresh fruit, and pitchers of maple syrup awaited them. "All from scratch," she confirmed, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

Stephanie and DJ wasted no time in helping themselves to the delicious spread, their mouths watering at the sight and smell of the pancakes. They piled their plates high with pancakes, drizzling them generously with syrup and adding a handful of fresh berries on the side.

As they dug into their breakfast, laughter and conversation filled the kitchen, the sound of their voices blending harmoniously with the clink of forks against plates. Y/n watched them with pride, her heart swelling with love for her nieces and the joy of being able to spoil them with a homemade breakfast. Together, they savoured each mouthful of pancakes, savouring the warmth and comfort of being together as a family.

As Y/n sat at the kitchen table with her two nieces, DJ and Stephanie, the aroma of freshly made pancakes filled the air, mingling with the excitement bubbling within her. With a warm smile, she decided to share with them stories of her recent geographic news reporting trip to Australia, a journey that had taken her to the far reaches of the continent.

"DJ, Stephanie, did I ever tell you about my recent trip to Australia for work?" Y/n began, her voice filled with anticipation.

The girls shook their heads, their eyes wide with curiosity as they eagerly dug into their pancakes.

"Well, let me tell you, it was an adventure unlike any other," Y/n continued, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she recounted her memories.

"As a geographic news reporter, I had the incredible opportunity to travel to some of the most remote and breath-taking locations in Australia. From the rugged Outback to the lush rainforests, I witnessed the stunning diversity of landscapes that make up this vast continent."

DJ and Stephanie listened intently, their pancake-filled mouths forgotten as they hung on Y/n's every word.

"I explored ancient Aboriginal sites, where rock art told the stories of generations past. I trekked through dense rainforests, where towering trees and cascading waterfalls created a sense of wonder and awe."

The girls gasped in amazement, their imaginations sparked by Y/n's vivid descriptions.

"But do you know what was truly remarkable?" Y/n asked, her voice filled with wonder.

"What?" DJ and Stephanie chimed in unison.

"The people," Y/n replied, her voice tinged with admiration. "I met incredible individuals who were deeply connected to the land and its rich cultural heritage. From Aboriginal elders sharing their wisdom to local communities welcoming me with open arms, I was constantly inspired by their resilience and strength."

As they finished their pancakes, DJ and Stephanie bombarded Y/n with questions about her trip, eager to learn more about the fascinating experiences she had encountered. And as Y/n shared more stories and answered their curious inquiries, she knew that her nieces were already dreaming of their own adventures, inspired by the tales of distant lands and faraway journeys.

In the bustling kitchen of the Bradshaw household, Y/n watched the clock anxiously as her two nieces, DJ and Stephanie, leisurely nibbled on their pancakes. With each passing second, her sense of urgency grew, knowing that they were perilously close to missing their school bus.

"Come on, girls, hurry up! You need to finish your pancakes quickly so we can get you to the bus stop on time," Y/n urged, her voice tinged with urgency.

DJ and Stephanie glanced at each other, their eyes widening with realization as they realized the gravity of the situation. With newfound determination, they began to eat with renewed speed, their pancakes disappearing in record time.

As Y/n bustled around the kitchen, packing their backpacks and gathering their coats, she couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration at the time ticking away. The school bus would be arriving any minute, and she dreaded the thought of having to drive them to school herself.

"Come on, girls, we need to go!" Y/n called out, her voice tinged with urgency as she ushered them out the door.

With a final gulp of orange juice and a hasty goodbye, DJ and Stephanie scrambled out of their chairs and raced to the front door, their backpacks slung over their shoulders.

As they hurried down the front steps and onto the sidewalk, Y/n breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that they had made it just in time. With a quick wave goodbye, she watched as they boarded the school bus, their faces flushed with excitement and the thrill of making it just in time.

As the bus pulled away from the curb and disappeared around the corner, Y/n couldn't help but smile. Despite the chaos and rush of the morning, she knew that she wouldn't have it any other way. After all, these were the moments that made being an aunt so special.

In the early morning hustle and bustle of the Bradshaw household, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the stairs as Bradley rushed into the kitchen, baby Michelle cradled in his arms. His face was a mix of determination and concern as he quickly scanned the room.

"Y/n, I'm running late for work," Bradley exclaimed, his voice filled with urgency as he handed Michelle over to his roommate. "Can you watch Michelle for me while I grab my briefcase?"

Y/n, caught off guard by her friend's sudden appearance, quickly adjusted to the situation, taking Michelle into her arms with practiced ease. "Of course, Bradley," she replied, her voice calm and reassuring. "I've got her. Don't worry."

With a grateful nod, Bradley dashed back up the stairs, his footsteps echoing through the house as he hurried to gather his belongings. Y/n watched him go, a fond smile playing on her lips as she cradled Michelle close.

As the minutes ticked by, Y/n soothed Michelle with gentle words and soft caresses, the baby content in her aunt's loving embrace. She hummed a soft lullaby, the melody filling the air with warmth and comfort.

Finally, Bradley reappeared in the kitchen, his briefcase in hand and a grateful smile on his face. "Thank you, Y/n," he said, his voice filled with gratitude as he leaned in to kiss Michelle on the forehead. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Y/n smiled back, her heart swelling with love for her friend and her precious niece. "Anytime, Brad," she replied, her voice filled with warmth. "You know I'm always here for you and Michelle."

With a quick goodbye, Bradley rushed out the door, his footsteps fading into the distance as he headed off to work. Left alone in the kitchen with Michelle, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of fulfilment wash over her. Despite the chaos of the morning, moments like these reminded her of the bond that held their family together, strong and unbreakable.

With Bradley gone and the kitchen now quiet, Y/n cradled Michelle in her arms, the baby's warm weight a comforting presence against her chest. As she gazed down at her tiny niece, Y/n couldn't help but marvel at the innocence and beauty of this small, precious life in her care.

With practiced ease, Y/n reached for a bottle of warm formula, prepared earlier in anticipation of moments like this. She settled into a cozy armchair by the window, the morning sunlight casting a gentle glow over the room, and carefully positioned the bottle for Michelle to latch onto.

Michelle, ever the eager eater, eagerly accepted the bottle, her hungry suckles filling the air with a soft rhythm. Y/n watched with a mixture of tenderness and awe as the baby drank, her heart swelling with love for this little bundle of joy.

As Michelle nursed, Y/n gently stroked her soft cheek, whispering words of love and reassurance. She marvelled at the bond that had formed between them, a connection that transcended words and filled her with a sense of purpose and belonging.

Time seemed to stand still as Y/n and Michelle shared this intimate moment, the outside world fading away as they basked in the warmth of each other's presence. In the quiet stillness of the morning, surrounded by love and tenderness, Y/n knew that she was exactly where she was meant to be.

And as Michelle finished her bottle with a contented sigh, her eyelids growing heavy with drowsiness, Y/n held her close, savouring the precious moments of peace and quiet. In these simple moments, she found joy and fulfilment, knowing that she was fulfilling her role as both aunt and caregiver with all the love in her heart.

With baby Michelle nestled in her arms, her tiny fingers curling around Y/n's, the aunt couldn't resist engaging in a little conversation with her niece.

"You know, Michelle," Y/n began, her voice soft and gentle, "we're going to have some special visitors later today. Uncle Bob and Uncle Jake are moving in with us for a while."

Michelle's bright eyes blinked up at Y/n, her small mouth forming a curious O-shape. Y/n chuckled at the adorable expression, feeling a surge of affection for the little one in her arms.

"They're going to be staying with us for a little bit while they get settled," Y/n continued, her tone warm and reassuring. "It's going to be so much fun having them around. They're going to make you laugh and smile, just like they always do."

As Y/n spoke, Michelle cooed softly in response, her eyes fixed on her aunt's face as if trying to understand every word. Y/n couldn't help but marvel at the way Michelle seemed to be taking in everything around her, her innocence and curiosity a constant source of joy.

"I think you're going to love having them here, Michelle," Y/n said, her voice filled with excitement. "They're going to be the best uncles ever, I just know it."

With a contented sigh, Y/n hugged Michelle a little tighter, feeling grateful for the bond they shared and the adventures that lay ahead with their extended family. And as she rocked Michelle gently in her arms, she couldn't wait to see the smiles and laughter that Uncle Bob and Uncle Jake would bring into their lives once they arrived later that day.

tagging: @callsign-magnolia @shanimallina87 @callsign-dexter @rosiahills22 @horseslovers2016 @djs8891 @hookslove1592 @emma8895eb @hardballoonlove @kmc1989 @dempy @mamachasesmayhem @senawashere @buckysteveloki-me @sweetwhispersofchaos @itsmytimetoodream @jessicab1991 @ahh-chickens

[sunshine-overload]

[BSTS] Menou & Taiga 4* Card Story

Chapter 1 -starless kitchen-

menou: Huh? Kongou isn’t here? There aren’t any staff meals ready either. I’m so hungry though…

taiga: Kongou is on break. Do you want me to call him over for you?

menou: Is that so? Well that’s fine then. Are you here for the same reason as me, Taiga?

taiga: I’m brewing myself some coffee while I work.

menou: You’re brewing it yourself? Oh right, you’re a coffee enthusiast aren’t you?

taiga: I’m in the process of seeking out my own favourite blend.

menou: Really? In that case, brew some for me too. I’m curious to see what your coffee tastes like.

taiga: Didn’t you say you were hungry? Well whatever, it’s easy to make an extra cups worth. It’ll take a while to brew, so please wait a moment.

-time pass, taiga’s making the coffees-

menou: Wow, you’ve got that down to a science.

taiga: Well I do drink it everyday.

menou: Isn’t it kind of rare to brew it yourself? I see just about everyone else here drink the canned stuff.

taiga: The guys here aren’t exactly a good reference point. 

menou: I drink coffee milk sometimes when I’m at the bathhouse.

taiga: Ah, I get you, drinking some coffee milk right out of the bath hits different. Especially if it’s the bottled kind.

But doesn’t making it from scratch yourself intrigue you? You start with grinding up the beans. The aroma is way stronger that way, but you gotta roast the beans correctly if you’re particular about the flavour. If you can’t be bothered with all of that though, even just improving your brewing technique will change the boldness of the flavour dramatically.

If you use a drip you can make all the adjustments yourself and even set a specific temperature, it’s a completely different level of coffee making. Once you get particular about the flavour there’s no end to the amount of modifications you can make.

-cg

menou: Wow, it’s really swirling around as you pour the hot water in. Why are you pouring it in a circular motion like that?

taiga: It’s to make sure all of the flavour is extracted evenly. Otherwise it’ll ruin the balance. Also, don’t watch me so intently, you’re making me uncomfortable.

menou: Don’t mind me. I feel like I could incorporate this into my acting one day.

taiga: So this is all for the sake of your acting after all? Well, I’m not sure what I expected, that’s just how you are.

-cg gone

taiga: Alrighty, it’s done. Here, please enjoy. I wanna hear you admit that it’s the best coffee you’ve ever tasted~

-

Chapter 2 -starless kitchen-

menou: Thanks. Oo, it smells really nice.

taiga: Feel free to add some milk and sugar if you’d like.

menou: Hmm, should I? What would you recommend?

taiga: I’d like for you to try at least one sip black.

menou: Ok, I’ll do that then. Here goes.

-he takes a sip-

menou: (surprised) …It’s delicious. Whatever this is, it tastes amazing. Maybe it’s because I got to see you brew it for me.

taiga: Thanks. I’m glad you like it.

menou: It goes down really easy and it’s a flavour that suits you, Taiga. Rather than being particular it’s more like you've devoted yourself to your craft. This is a flavour that was created by somebody who's obsessed with coffee.

taiga: I guess. I can’t help but be particular about things that I like.

menou: You have a lot of different hobbies, don’t you? Messing around with computers, playing video games, et cetera. There’s a lot that you’re passionate about and you're skilled at them all too.

taiga: Yeah, I suppose. That’s just how it is when you’re an otaku.

menou: I wouldn’t be considered an otaku, would I? Oh wait, maybe I’m an onsen otaku?

taiga: Isn’t acting your main fixation?

menou: I don’t consider acting to be a mere hobby.

taiga: True, ‘otaku’ doesn’t really feel like the right label for you. It goes beyond that. You’re more like an acting junky… Or maybe an acting freak would be more accurate?

menou: Ahaha, maybe. But you look just as freaky when you’re tinkering around on your computer. So we’re the same in that regard.

Welp I better get going, the coffee was delicious, thank you.

—end

otaku- used to describe someone with an intense interest in something, usually for hobbies such as anime, manga, video games and computers

[siren-sashimi]

Sweet spot HC Scenario; [Marquis Vincent de Gramont x pastry chef!reader]

notes: Based on an anonymous request. They meet before Vincent owns the title of Marquis. Assumed the reader and Vincent speak French with each other.

☞ So here it goes: It's the time shortly before Vincent intrigues himself into the position of the Marquis de Gramont. Still working as practicing assassin, starving for luxury, well and a breakfast after this shit night, he drags himself through the dawn, through the streets of Brussels. There're a few bakeries open, here and there but none look good enough for his taste, nothing hand made, too fatty and sugary ready mades just shoved in the oven. No he looks for something in which the balance of butter so well beaten it's almost creamy white, the flour, taste thick, the caster sugar a compliment to not a compensation for taste. He passes by a more highclass looking establishment, the fancy one with glass windows installed with the intend for the passerby's to see how the baker's are baking fresh bread, sweets, baps, cakes, and anything else human hands are capable to make out of flour. It is the bakery in which you start your formation as pâtissier, as apprentice relegated to cover the (too early) hours. You just tried out your new variant with you're still critical about: A croissant with pistachio-cream-filling. The cream tastes too strongly against the unique yet delicate nut flavour, overpowering instead of transporting the flavour.

☞ Just one minute, a single minute after the shop officially opens a roughed up looking guy stares (good grief, his big eyes and gaunt features make for a unsettling stare) at the displayed goods. Expensive clothing is nothing uncommon in Brussels (after all, not incorrect joke has it that Belgium's population is by half only European parliamentarians) but in this state, you really hope that you don't have to take care of an entitled rich prick at 6.02am... ☞ So far he orders a coffee (one of the pricey Middle Americas blends, two spoons of sugar) and your pistachio croissant variant. In spite of your initial hesitance... you would be curious how the guests like it. ☞ From the corner of your eyes you see him closing his eyes in a relaxed manner after his first sip of the coffee (good), slightly nodding when he bites of the tip of the croissant (good too, a good croissant should be something you can bake in your groggy half sleep), he bites closer to the middle, where the filling is. A crease between his brows (not good). ☞ "Pardon ? Qui l'a fait?" (Excuse me? Who made this?) "C'était moi, monsieur. Comment pourais-je vous aider?" (That was me, Sir. How can I help you?) His face contorts for a bit. "For this price..." he starts, you can smell the trouble from 5 miles ahead "this is not worth it, just mashed together." Quick deep breath. "It is still in development..." "And you offer this to guests?" (Well, you're not Neuhaus here and your chef deemed it good enough for selling.) He stands up, ready to leave, and you notice without paying. "I'm sorry, Monsieur" you intervene quickly "I can offer you anything on the house - as an excuse. Everything else is our regular offer." Speaking these word hurts your own tongue. Prick.

☞ With a quick raise of eyebrows and a shrug he sits back down, orders a chocolatine. Now you feel feisty. You choose darker, almost too bitter chocolate which the butter smoothes down, tames within the dough, while the deep cocoa flavour unfolds to dark bloom, passing the comfortable warmth of the pastry to a dark floral aroma. You'll make him get something to taste for sure. ☞ One bite of his. Eyelids collapsing in delight, chest heaving, nostrils blowing slowly, while his jaw moves slowly. You got him. Somehow his visible satisfaction feels like sweetest revenge. When he pays you can't help shooting him a quick: "This one of mine too." Prick leaves with no reaction*. You're still feeling a bit triumphant.

☞ What have you done wrong? Some mornings he returns, ordering the pricier coffees (always two teaspoons of sugar, preferably brown sugar - damn he has good taste) yet he rotates between different baked goods, tries out different things. You two barely talk. Most often he looks tired, sometimes a bit dishevelled, other times just like he's been up all night (bags under his eyes not helping to make his face look less haunted) although not as bad as he did when he first set foot into the place. Sometimes he comes with bags, probably he travels a lot, always wears good materials. At some point you wonder if he's either a callboy... or maybe a spy? You wouldn't be wondering if many of them shuffled around Brussels too. Maybe you shouldn't read so much Largo Winch before bed time.

☞ Some day, early December, certificate awaiting you within a few months, he walks in again, no hair straying out of place, new coat, even with... could it be? Real fur on the neck hem. "One Jamaica Blue Mountain-" "Two spoons of sugar, Monsieur?" (question out of courtesy) "Certainly. And..." Green eyes narrowing down on you "one pistachio croissant." Somehow this feels like a test... he hadn't ordered this croissant since his first visit. You think, over the time passed, you nailed it, almost pure nut flavour, cream carrying the taste, ideal medium for cream, canvas for the nutty, almost salty flavour. For whatever reason, serving this sleek peacock your croissant wakes excitement in you. Actually, apart from thinking that he too visibly displays wealth, there hadn't been too much to stir your ire against him anymore... Trying to keep yourself from following his reaction, your try to busy yourself, sorting trays, setting timers for the next baking time - kinda difficult to discreetly shoot an observatory glance when this early he's your only costumer. ☞ You heard the last crunch, you can't help but eyeing him. A smile spreads over his lips. It suits him, the way he's so well dressed, the upright posture, legs folded properly, thoughtful look, slight smile. As if he noticed you staring he looks and asks straight through the empty room: "Why are you stuck here in Brussels?" "Pardon?" He gestures around. "That's a very good place, splendid even, I would say but aren't the true masters not in France?" You have to hold back a laugh. Twat. His French is so clearly Français de l'Hexagon, it would be too easy to assume him having reservations. "I've been to France." you reply with a shrug "Paris even. It was okay." "Okay? Isn't it one of THE capitals of fine cuisine?" "Êtes-vous Parisien?" you mock "I'm afraid to say, that yeah, indeed one really learns excellency in Paris, most reputable places but... even here in Brussels you're given room to breathe. Excellency yes yet you're allowed to take time and experience, refine by reflection. By the way both, Paris and Brussels aren't actually what the countries actually are like. Too clean." He leans back, now looking at you, that comfortable smile on his face. "Not, Parisian, no. Not yet. I see you have thoughts on this matter." "Better call it experience. Here I can dabble a bit in chocolatery as well." "Aren't the best chocolatiers in France as well?" (Not wrong but more like among the best…) "The Swiss would heavily argue against it. And guess what, Jean Neuhaus was Swiss, he emigrated to Belgium." ☞ At that he laughed, baring his teeth. Strangely, for a man this tall, with such intense eyes, large teeth, broad hands, pouty lips… it gave something nice to look at. He stands up, walking up to the counter, reaching out his right hand. "Vincent." You shook it and replied in return. Vincent's hands are enrapturing, callused at the fingertips and palm, lukewarm, a bit of cold from the outside weather on the back of his hand can be left when your hands part. "I will miss this place…" he announces, giving everything around him a quick look "Things played out that I won't visit this city for a while. Yet I will miss the quality here. At my working hours it's difficult to find a decent place." Quick hesitance on your part. Judging from his calluses the possibility of a callboy-occupation diminishes. "If you want, I still got some contacts of my senior apprentices, and some from Paris even. They landed mostly good jobs or opened their own shops. I can give your their addresses, if you want to. Tell them you know me, they give you something to try. Also, it's nice to have someone who appreciates our work and isn't taking the next best thing."

Vincent huffs. "If you vouch for your friends' good craft." He takes your notes. Before he leaves he turns around and tells you: "That pistachio croissant…. Finally worth it's price." Jerk.

*In the Netherlands and Belgium people rarely tip since tipping is included in the prices. (And something, something minimum wage even in food service.) For once Vincent isn't entirely a rich jerk

[yinyuedijun]

hiiiii can i ask about memory trace from your wip list? 👀 it isn't linked but i'm intrigued.

It isn't linked because I posted a snippet on my old blog and COMPLETELY LOST IT like I have no idea where the hell it is 😭 I'll reblog it if I can find it but here's some info copy/pasted from my google docs rough draft:

(spoilers for csm chapters 70+)

MEMORY TRACE

The Gun Fiend finds these sensations peculiar: the soft press of your fingers on its cheek, the contour of your heart line against its skin. You give it—give its meatsuit, the dead thing which used to be Hayakawa Aki—a strange expression. It looks like something close to pain, like you have an open wound even though you are unharmed.

"Do you know," you ask quietly, "if he loved me at all?"

Canon divergence story in which Makima decides that the Gun Fiend would be useful to the Public Safety Bureau, and you're assigned to be its handler. Gun Fiend/Reader, past Aki/Reader. Gender neutral AFAB reader, angst with a bittersweet ending, lots of grief but there's love in there too. NSFT warnings: Unprotected sex with the Gun Fiend.

Excerpt:

Wearing the skin of Hayakawa Aki, the Gun Devil learns about many things beyond destruction and control.

Take, for instance: when you are going through the motions of your morning routine. You get out of bed shortly after sunrise and put on a kettle of water before going to the washroom. When you return to the kitchen, you grind a handful of coffee beans by hand, releasing into the air a burst of caramelized, nutty fragrance. It mingles with the scent of you, and the air tastes familiar except for the sweet stench of incense.

The drink tastes familiar, too: black coffee from Colombia, poured through a filter and topped with steamed milk. You always make enough for two, as if guided by muscle memory. The Gun Devil thinks you only start offering cups to it out of convenience, rather than any goodwill.

“He’s already been dead for several weeks,” you tell it one day, peering into your mug, “but I’m still in the habit of grinding too much coffee for just one person… Before you came, I’d throw out the second cup, but it always felt like a waste.”

You take a sip. After staring at the drink for a moment, the Gun Devil does the same, and something in its body stirs at the bittersweet flavour, all milk and tannins.

“You like it, don’t you?” you say. It isn’t a question. “Aki was so picky about his coffee. He taught me to make it just the way he liked, for days he stayed over. His way of making it was a lot of work, but I didn’t mind. I think he found it comforting to drink every morning, so I was happy to do it.”

Comfort: the Gun Devil learns that’s what this body is feeling, when it breathes in your scent blended with the aroma of coffee at the start of each day, when it sits across from you in the morning sun and drinks your coffee. It is being comforted.