#I WAS CHOPPING ONIONS MIGHT AS WELL BURN MY EYES WITH THEM

[felibrary]

╭──╯ DOCTOR'S PRESCRIPTION !

PAIRING: jiaoqiu x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: how does a healer heal himself when he falls ill? the answer is he doesn't, after all, you're here to take care of him!; alternatively your boyfriend's sick, and despite all his refusals you insist on taking care of him.

WORDCOUNT: 1.2k | CONTENT & WARNINGS: did i play the tb mission yet..no, did i still write this? yes cause i just man idek okay, jiaoqiu might be ooc, banter and bickering and just tooth-rotting fluff (and jiaoqiu rots in bed..literally lol)

TAGS: @azullumi (i hate all of your fans for choosing the blind date one. reject them exes and bring back hanahaki diseases and yearning 🔥🔥)

AUTHORS NOTE: the closed eyes remind me of jouno. jiaoqiu pls dont die. also im trying to be more dialogue-centrish here cause im not familiar with his character yet soooo no metaphors for now

“jiaoqiu, would it kill you to stay in bed for at least once?”

the scent of freshly brewed green tea and aromatic congee slowly fills the air and you lean back against the counter, with your hands on the surface of the kitchen island and a deadpan expression you stare right at your boyfriend who has only woken up now.

an expression that brings no good settles onto jiaoqiu’s face. “do you need help?” jiaoqiu smiles mirthfully and without hearing your answer he swiftly brushes past you. in the blink of an eye, jiaoqiu picks up the kitchen knife lying on the cutting board before expertly chopping the spring onions into thin rings to later sprinkle over the congee.

he cannot be serious right now.

you have to prevent yourself from sighing out loud before grabbing him by the shoulders to make him turn around  “stop being so stubborn and return to bed,” you’re not sure if the reason you’re heating is up due to the congee whose heat is emitting into the air, the close proximity between you and jiaoqiu that makes your heart skip a beat or two, or the fact that jiaoqiu’s sick and is probably spreading his sickness over to you. 

the latter sounds the most reasonable. 

as it seems (and as expected) your demand goes in one (or well two) ears and out of the other one(s). “and since when are you the doctor?” his cheeky tone and the smirk he throws you are both infuriating. “but, i guess i’m lucky to have such a smart and not to mention beautiful partner who cares about my well-being,” he remarks lovingly. 

“you think you can bribe me with sugar-coated words?” as sweet as he might be, you won’t let him off the hook so easily. after all, he also deserves to rest, especially when sick. 

someone who only takes care of others and their well-being but never their own, will meet their demise sooner than those who constantly seek out help, due to never confiding in others when facing hardships.

“i’m simply stating the truth.” he chortles gleefully, tilting his head to the side while doing so.

“what a charmer you are,” you reply dryly before taking a few steps away from him. “anyway, as you’ve already mentioned your oh-so-smart and beautiful partner cares about your well-being, so i ask you to go back to bed, and get your well-deserved rest,” you quickly change the subject.

ironically nothing escapes jiaoqiu’s attentive gaze, so you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d noticed the rosy tint on your ears by now. but even if that were the case he doesn’t seem to pay any mind to it.

“as much as i appreciate your concern, there’s really no need. i’ve experienced much worse and more severe illnesses. a little fever won’t be the death of me.” jiaoqiu shrugs in simplicity, brushing it off as no big deal.

“you’re such a handful to deal with sometimes,” you mumble under your breath before swiftly pressing your hand onto his forehead and withdrawing it as quickly. “jiaoqiu. you’re literally burning up.” 

you don’t wait for him to respond — you won’t give him the time to respond before reaching down and searching for his hand. his lithe fingers find yours and you carefully lace them together before guiding (dragging) him back to the bedroom and forcing him to lie back down as you crouch at his side.

the wet towel that sits all scrunched up in the plastic bowl right next to his bed seems all wrung out already catches your attention and you sigh. “sorry, that i didn’t come earlier to refresh the water,” jiaoqiu’s ears perk up at your apologetic tone and he smiles. “don’t worry about it.”

“stay here, i’ll get you a new one. don’t move while i’m gone okay? just try to relax a bit.” the only thing you receive as a form of acknowledgment is a quiet hum before rushing off to the bathroom to fill the bowl with new cold water.

you return just as quickly as you left and begin to wring the piece of cloth and fold it into a rectangle before placing it onto jiaoqiu’s forehead. “is this okay?” you ask, carefully brushing the strands of hair that stick to the damp towel away. again, a mere hum is the only answer you receive from him.

as you’re reminded of the green tea and congee that are still in the kitchen you jump up. “right i almost forgot the food, i’ll go and get it. wait here for me.” you turn around and before you can even fully leave the room, a whine of your name makes you turn around.

“can you turn the pillow for me? this side is too warm.” your boyfriend starts to complain and you can’t help but stare (in surprise or irritation, you don’t know — maybe both.) you help your boyfriend up and make him lean against the headboard as he continuously holds the wet towel against his forehead. “here,” you present him and he smiles in satisfaction. 

he settles back into bed you assume he has no more requests thus you decide to leave and reside in the kitchen once more. the aroma of spices fills your nose once more and you can’t help but smile as you take the lid of the pot off before using a ladle to scoop the congee into a bowl. 

you reach for a porcelain cup and pour the green tea into it before placing it on a tray with the congee to bring it to jiaoqiu.

as soon as you enter his room, jiaoqiu’s ears perk up. “i’ve missed you,” he expresses wholeheartedly and that makes your heart melt. it’s these moments where you get reminded how lucky to have him. “so now that you’re back can you turn my pillow around again? this side heated up much faster than anticipated.”

okay so maybe you weren’t that grateful to have him.

you sigh and put the tray down on his (unexpectedly but pleasing) tidy desk, normally it would’ve been filled with a bunch of different notes and recipes for both meals and medicines, but it’s exceptionally organized today. 

once again you help your boyfriend once again by flipping his pillow before grabbing the bowl of congee and handing it to him. upon him not accepting, let alone acknowledging the food before him, you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“what? do you want me to feed you next princess?” you scoff and although your remark is sarcastic, jiaoqiu can’t help but smile cheekily. “well if you’re already offeri-” he doesn’t get to finish his sentence before you shove the metal spoon full of congee into his mouth which slightly catches him off guard and makes him open his eyes for a split second.

although you’ve seen his eyes countless times, you can’t help but admire them. his eyes resemble honey, beautiful and golden but also sickeningly sweet and addicting. “you know you’re so much more beautiful when you shut up for once,” you tease.

Jiaoqiu detaches himself from the spoon and scoffs. “should’ve added black pepper instead of white pepper. you know that i favor intense flavors over mild ones.” he complains and you can’t help but crack a smile. ”stop being a picky eater and eat.”

END NOTE: this has been sitting in my drafts since June 21 LMFAO but yeah here it is!! also does this look proofread to yall cause it really isn't its quite literally 3am and school's starting next week. my sleeping schedule's so fucked up I'm crying. but shoutouts to Grammarly for proofreading tho fawk u for saying i need Grammarly pro to see my other 92 mistakes like okay. in this economy??

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[mvltisstuff]

Would you maybe write an Eddie Diaz x reader fic where she is cooking dinner and burns or cuts herself. Enough that they have to go to the ER and then just fluffy him helping her out after they get home...

night changes - e.d

summary: above :)

eddie diaz x reader

the fierce odor of the onions and smell of spices were overwhelming y/n’s nose, making her eyes water. she was chopping away at the onion, preparing a nice dinner for eddie, christopher, and herself. eddie was assisting, along with christopher who was sprinkling in some more flavoring into the pan. night like these were casual, but perfect. spending time with her two favorite people was the highlight of her days.

her relationship with eddie had its ups and downs, like any relationship might, but they were thriving now. both of them had steady jobs and were spending so much time together. they’d gotten extremely close over the years, and y/n spoke so gently to him and his son in ways that melted his big heart.

eddie adored her since the moment he met her, and after shannon died and dealing with the grief of that, y/n saved him. he saved her too, with her own experiences and feelings. they pulled each other out of the deep pits they were in.

eddie glanced over at y/n, with a wide smile as she spoke with christopher. her eyes were glossy, but the pure happiness across her face was very noticeable. her laugh was contagious, making the corners of eddie’s mouth rise up.

eddie’s phone rings, and looks at the name flashing across the screen. his friend, buck, had of course called and eddie handed the phone to christopher. “hi, buck!” he said into the phone, excitedly and wandered off to speak to him.

“i swear that kid loves him more than me,” eddie jokes.

“it’s the buck effect,” she replies. “makes everyone love him.”

“well i sure hope not you…” eddie says. he walks over to y/n, planting a kiss on her cheeks. she giggles lightly before demanding him to get back to whatever he was cooking before.

“oh, cmon, you know i love you the most,” and now it was her turn to move over and give him his own kiss. they didn’t have a fear of PDA in front of chris, but eddie was definitely more comfortable when he wasn’t around to see. christopher loves y/n, being the closet person he has to having a mother. she treated him like his own from the moment they were introduced.

y/n shuffles back to her own cutting board with her slippery hands from the wet veggies. she picks up the freshly sharpened knife to continue before she feels a massive slash on her hand. the knife had slipped out of her hand, landing directly on the other leaving a deep gash on the center of her palm. “ow, shit!” she yells out making eddie’s head turn like an owl.

he spots the deep cut on her hand, rapidly dripping out dark blood onto the cutting board and on her fingers. as an reflex, he grabs as many towels as he can and presses it against her hand. “woah, easy,” he calmly says under the pressure. “you alright?” he asks, placing his free hand on her cheek, swiping away a tear.

“i think so? i mean i just split my own hand open.”

eddie notices the blood sinking deep into the towels, almost completely covering the whiteness of the cloths. he pulls them off to examine the cut. the gash was incredibly deep, and unfortunately not something that could just be fixed by a bandaid. she hisses as he touches it lightly. “sorry, you’re alright,” eddie says softly, yet again. “i think we might need a trip to the ER, amor.”

“but i haven’t finished cooki-“

“you’re worried about cooking? you have a severe laceration to your hand!”

“mm, i love when you go all paramedic on me,” y/n smiles, and eddie shakes his head, concealing his own grin.

“chris! can you bring the phone in?” eddie yells to the other room. christopher comes walking in, handing the phone to eddie. “hey, man. wanna come hang out with chris? yeah, y/n cut her hand and we’re just gonna stop at the ER. she’ll be ok, i just don’t have anyone to watch him, also, make him dinner and don’t burn the house down, please!”

buck comes speeding over to be with chris, and y/n and eddie climb into his truck. “maybe i should get lights and a siren on this thing,” he says.

“eddie, i am not dying! at this rate you’ll get pulled over and i’ll bleed out in your nice truck.”

eddie rolls his eyes and pulls into the parking lot, then leading y/n in who is clutching her gushing hand. they’re guided into a section, as an intern comes over to sew up her hand.

she examines the stitches on her hand and holds it up to eddie, who hasn’t left her side for anything. he’s sitting next to her on the bed in the ER, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. “does it look cool?” she asks.

“sure, very cool,” he smiles and kisses her as the doctor cleans up, wrapping her hand up in gauze and sending them on their way.

the next few days, eddie was a complete clinger. he stayed by her side for anything she might need, because she was down a hand.

“eddie, i’m literally pouring cereal,” she says, sighing as he tried to take the box from her.

“he’s my own son, i can do it,” he smiles at her and leads her out of the way. he wanted to do everything for her because she does the same when he is hurt. it might be hypocritical, but he couldn’t care less. he wants to be with her when she does anything, incase something bad happens again and he isn’t there. she leads him out of the kitchen and onto the couch.

“babe, look at me,” she places her fingers under his chin and guides his face to look at her. “i am fine. it is just stitches, i didn’t break my arms. you don’t need to worry!”

“i know, i just want to help you. i feel bad, that’s all.”

“why do you feel bad? it’s not your fault my hand slipped.”

“i don’t know, i just didn’t like seeing you bleeding that much out of your own hands. it looked like a murder scene.”

“well, if you’re so desperate to help,” she smirks. “you can get in that kitchen and cook.”

eddie laughs and looks at her amusingly. the way she made the best out of a bad situation, and joked as she did it was the greatest gift he could’ve asked for. “fine, but it’s not my fault if it turns out awfully.”

“oh, don’t pity yourself. practice makes perfect,” y/n concludes and they head back into the kitchen together.

[dduane]

Hi! This might end up a super weird question, sorry in advance!

So just came across your twitter today and seeing your profile pic my brain is now convinced that you were the person who years ago shared this one really good bread recipe with oven baked garlic in it? Is it actually you? I tried to look through your tumblr but I didn't find anything so I'm so sorry if it's not you? But man that was the best bread I ever ate so I really want to find the recipe again! Thank you so much in advance... QvQ

No, it's not weird at all! Don't sweat it. :)

I've been baking for a long time, and have posted enough recipes now, here and there, that it's hard to keep track of them all sometimes. So I feel your pain. :)

...That said: I don't think I've done a recipe that involves actually baking garlic in the bread. ...Roasting garlic and then squeezing that into or onto already-baked bread, that I've seen around... though not in any of my own recipes. (Not that it's not a good idea: I just haven't been down that road myself.)

... @petermorwood just sent me this really quite sensual-looking garlic bread TikTok that does involve the roasted and squeezed-out garlic approach. I'll reblog it after this post, as I'm not sure how to pull the embed out of his.

Meanwhile, here's a garlic bread thread I did on Twitter some time back. (Pulling the images and contents into this post, because who knows what's going to happen to Twitter in the medium term...? But the thread starts here for those who want to link to that.)

"Tonight's garlic bread. Method follows. :) "

"...RIGHT. So this is based on many warmed-over/reheated Manhattan-based pizzeria dinners back in the 70s, when I was still doing hospital work and you were glad to either (a) reheat what you had from last night, or (b) make something very like it, but hotter and fresher.

"The basic approach: Buy in small cheap store-baked baguettes. (There is no POSSIBLE point in you using good homebaked bread on these. Buy cheaply made spongy bread that will SOAK UP THE GARLIC BUTTER SOONEST.)

"Slice each one more or less into five or six thickish slices (NOT all the way through, just 5/6 of the way to the back of the loaf.) Warm them a bit in the oven or microwave if they're cold.

"Mix together: Six to eight cloves of freshly chopped garlic: at least 300g but maybe more like 500g of butter. Some coarse-ground pepper: some salt: a little bit of onion powder. Herbs to your preference (oregano, parsley, whatever...).

"Additionally, as we did tonight: brown 6-8 slices of bacon by your preferred method. (I did it in the microwave because I could *not be arsed* to get involved with the frying pan.)

"Set up each sliced baguette in a piece of foil big enough to fold loosely around it (to keep the butter in) and undo without a whole lot of trouble. Pry the bread slices apart and stuff at least a teaspoon of butter or two between each pair of slices. (OR MORE.)

"(In our tonight-variant: Stuff a crumbled slice of bacon into the garlic butter between each slice.) Preheat the oven to sort of 180C/375F. Put each baguette and its foil in a baking tray. Shove the whole business into the oven and give them 10 minutes or so with the foil on.

"Pull the garlic breads out and unfold the foil from around them. Shove them back into the oven and give them another 10 minutes, keeping a close eye on them so they won't burn. (f you want to put some cheese on top of one, this is your time.)

"Pull them out and let them cool enough not to destroy the human beings intending to eat them. After they cool (if anything's left) put a *faintly damp* tea-towel/dishtowel over them to keep them nice. If coming to them again later, heat them gently at first, then FIERCELY.

"...And now the pics. Mine:

"His (with the cheese):

...The roasted-garlic garlic bread follows in the next post. :)

("Why is this shot like a porno?" someone says plaintively in the comments. Well, why indeed? And why not.)

[jjunie-0]

Oh my god, did you call me baby?!

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ genre: fluff(?)

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹warnings: none

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹group: enhypen (LMK if i should make a zb1 and riize one)

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ Synopsis: Enhypen hyung line accidentally calls you baby while you were crushing on them, you never knew they like you back

이희승~(lhs)

Heeseung and you were sitting on the couch, discussing what movie to watch tonight, Hee suggested “How about we watch Toy Story?”, you shook your head “we already watched all of them remember?” Heeseung nodded “I’ll search some movie ideas up, can you pass me my phone baby?” You froze and became flustered at the nickname, “oh my god…did you call me baby?” Heeseung realized what he said and started rambling different things “Is that okay…?” “Yeah it’s cool, I liked it” “I like you.” Heeseung then said which made you stamper on what to say “I like you too” you managed to speak. Heeseung pulled you into a hug, asking a question you’ve always wanted to hear “will you be my girlfriend?”

박종성~ (PJ)

You and jay were cooking like you guys usually do during Friday hang outs, you were chopping the onions abit too fast for Jay’s liking but he stayed silent. He continued doing his side of the cooking until he saw you pouring the onions into the pot full of water without eye protection or gloves to help you prevent burning your hands. He couldn’t contain himself and said “Baby, be careful! You’re gonna burn yourself!” “B-baby?” You asked him thinking your eyes were deceiving you. “You know what? Might as well confess now. I’ve been in love with you l/n Y/n. Would you be my girlfriend?” “Yes! Absolutely “ you exclaimed, “Well this could be our first meal as a couple” he said engulfing you into a hug.

심재윤~ (SJ)

You and Jake were hanging out in a dog park, Jake walking Layla while talking to you, “Hey Jake- isn’t that dog pretty?” You said bending down to pet the dog “not as pretty as you Baby.” You couldn’t help the pink tint covering your cheeks “Jake!” You said playfully hitting his chest “Would you like to be Layla’s mother, L/N Y/N?” He asked, reaching his hand out in a romantic way, how could you ever deny such an offer?

박성훈~(PS)

Sunghoon insisted on taking you ice skating even though you have absolutely ZERO idea on how to skate, you were clinging on to Sunghoon, since he liked to tease you he left your grip and you started wobbling “Sunghoon!” You yelped as he started skating further way from you, you kept wobbling and eventually fell. Sunghoon rushed over to you, “im so sorry baby! Are you okay?” He asked his voice filled with worry. “Y-yeah I’m fine, but baby?” You questioned staring at him, “I’m in love with you, Y/n” he confessed

@alvojake @leaderwonim @leaderwon @enhaverse713586 @angel1kisses @heeslut4life

[patriciavetinari]

It's Mushroom time!

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

This is a very basic recipe for mushrooms, onions cooked with sour cream or craîme fraiche, it can be eaten on its own or paired with potatoes, pasta, toast, other vegetables, or to make it even more Eastern European, buckwheat. If you don't like your food to have a lot of mushrooms or a LOT of onion - this post is not going to go well for you, also you're wrong.

Let's go over the ingredience. I will be using metric because fight me that's why. Cups don't make any bloody sense.

Here I have:

- 300 grams of mushrooms. As far as I know, any edible mushroom will work for this, although I haven't tried it with shiitake or portobello. Also, frozen mushrooms absolutely work as well, saving you spoons in cooking process.

- 1 medium-large onion. Where I am you can also get onion pre-chopped and frozen, saving yet another spoon. If you get frozen mushrooms, frozen onion, and sour creme or craime fraiche, this recipe will take barely any time.

- 1 chonky leek. THIS IS OPTIONAL. In fact, my father would have said this is unorthodox and messes up the proportions. The thing is, I love leek and I don't care if my dish has more texture and flavor profile. If you want to try more traditional version, skip the leek. If you want to use leek, you might also want to double the amount of mushrooms, but that will require a larger pan which I don't have. Or you can keep the amount of mushrooms and use half an onion and half a leek respectively. Do what you want with your life.

- 200 grams of sour cream or craime fraiche. Now, I know those things are different, but especially for this recipe they both work well and I'm aware of limited availability of sour cream in areas where people don't eat as many pierogi or pelmeni. Keep an eye on the fat content, craime fraiche usually has a higher one unless you're using a Light option. Any fat content in the 20-40% range is fine, it will affect how liquid will the dish become on addition of this. If you're pairing it with pasta you might want it a BIT more liquid. I personally have 40% fat content craime fraiche here because I like to live deliciously. I have not tried it with any vegan alternative, but any vegan product meant to substitute craime fraiche which also doesn't split on heating should work.

- Butter or oil to heat up in the pan. Both are fine, I have 20 grams of butter here.

- NOT PICTURED because I forgor: salt, pepper, garlic (I used 3 cloves).

- Tools you will need: 1 pan, deep and wide, chopping board, knife, spoon for the sour cream, spatula or wooden sooon for mixing everything in the pan. Stovetop or burner.

Step 1: clean and chop everything choppable (mushrooms and onion and leek if using).

The size of the bits doesn't matter much, you will be simmering mushrooms the longest, so even large bits will get cooked through. The bigger you leave the pieces, the more mushroom flavor you will get per bite. I personally like to freestyle and end up with some bits bigger and others smaller and that's fine. Onions you might want on the smaller side.

STEP 2: Heat the butter or oil in the pan, add garlic at this step to fill your house with great smell.

The heat should be on high or medium-high, depending on your stove and pan. Once the butter/oil is heated and starts making sounds, you're ready to go.

STEP 3: mushrooms go in first. Onions are more sensitive and at more risk to be burned, and mushrooms need to be cooked down in volume, so they go in first.

Keep the heat on high, give the mushrooms a little exercise, move them around. Let them start getting nice and tanned and reduce in volume.

STEP 4. Onion (and leek) goes in. Make mushroom circle in your pan as if you were sacrificing your onions to the fae. In they go.

NB! My proportions will look fucked up because I'm using both a leek and an onion. If you're using only 1 onion per 300 grams of mushrooms, the mushrooms should prevail still.

Move around the onions inside the well to get them to golden, this will happen quickly, so the mushrooms shouldn't get time to burn, add a bit more oil if needed. Once onion has become slightly golden, mix everything together and drop the heat to medium before getting the sour cream.

STEP 5. Sour cream joins the party.

Just plop entirety of her in. Mix everything together. This is the moment where sour cream fat content will come to play: the less fat content, the more liquid the dish will be at this stage. If you want to pair it with pasta or buckwheat, you might want it a bit more liquid, so add those (cooked!!) now if using. I'm not, so I am going to simmer it a little bit on medium heat while I add salt and pepper to taste. I personally prefer less salt, more pepper (ground, black).

It might not look like anything fancy, but if you like mushrooms, it's the best excuse to consume 300 grams of them.

You're basically done.

STEP 6. Stop yourself from eating the entire thing directly from the the pan and serve. I'm piling about half of that over some steamed potatoes.

I have no clue how it freezes or how long it keeps. This pan was gone same day. I would eat that concoction literally until I'm sick. It took all of my willpower to divide tha panful between lunch and dinner.

You can eat this straight up, honestly, there are no rules, but here are some other good pairings:

- Toast. Just put it on wholewheat or sourdough toast. Or even put it on a rice cake.

- Pasta. I recommend wholewheat fussili.

- Boiled, steamed, roast or fried potatoes. Classic.

- Buckwheat, boiled. Classic, if you know where to get some toasted buckwheat (a quest here where I am).

Also, as you can see, the basic recipe is very, well, basic. Experiment with spices, herbs (I recomment rosemary, add it at butter melting step), add heat. You can add ham if you want extra protein. The only thing guaranteed to make this recipe better is if the mushrooms were lovingly foraged by yourself or a loved one.

If you make this, let me know how it is please!

[tryan-a-bex]

Tom, Dick and Harry; or, the Watsonian Explanation

Why is Destruction called Joe?

Read on ao3

“I will help.”

Joe looked up from his painting at this pronouncement from his brother, Dream. Usually Dream was happy enough to sit and talk while Hob cooked, but today it seemed he desired more active participation. Shaking his head, Joe glowered at his current painting, hoping the coming kitchen shenanigans wouldn’t make it harder to focus than it already was. Something was off, maybe just there… Shaking his head again, he dabbed his brush on his palette.

“Ah! Oh! What is that?! My eyes! My eyes are stinging!” With a clatter, Dream threw down his knife and ran for the bathroom to wash his face, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“You didn’t warn him?” Joe glanced askance at Hob, who was looking after Dream in mild concern.

“You know Dream!” Hob chuckled. “He was sure he would be the only one in history immune to onions.” Shaking his head, he turned back to the counter.

“Gotta get these all in quick now,” he mumbled, as Joe returned to his painting. Ah, yes, maybe that would do it…

Joe was vaguely aware of Dream drifting back into the kitchen, as Hob scraped one pile of cut veggies into the wok and turned to the counter for the next.

“Dream! Fuck!” At the yell, Joe glanced up, seeing the unexpected tableau of Hob holding a large kitchen knife to Dream’s gut.

“Behind! If you’re coming up behind someone who’s working in a kitchen, any kitchen, you say ‘Behind!’ so they don’t accidentally stab or burn you!”

“I’m sorry!” Dream raised his hands as Hob huffed and darted around him for the next pile of chopped veggies.

“Maybe you should just go for a walk, mate,” Joe suggested. Between the onions, the knife, and the scolding, Dream looked like he was finished in the kitchen.

“Oh, it’s okay, love, you can stay,” Hob countered, stirring the veggies with one hand as he reached for sauce ingredients with the other.

“I could use some fresh air,” Dream lowered his hands, and Joe glanced up again, amazed that his brother was in tune enough with his own emotional state to know when he needed a bit of space to calm down. Hob really was good for him.

“Be back soon, duck, the food will be ready in 20 minutes.”

“Yes.” Looking warily at Hob’s hands and feet for signs of sudden movement, Dream leaned in for a quick kiss and then headed out the door.

“I found a place.”

Dream came in the door just as Joe was setting the table and Hob was bringing the food over. If it had been anyone but his brother, Joe thought he might have heard excitement in his voice.

“Lovely! What did you find?” Hob asked, pulling Dream’s chair out.

“Perhaps. Perhaps I will show you, rather than tell you. After dinner.” Dream sat, gazing up at Hob with that sappy look that Joe usually found so cute but was, once in a while, totally annoying. (Today it was cute. He was glad the knife scene earlier hadn’t hurt their relationship at all, not even with the onions and the scolding.)

The dinner was delicious, as Hob’s always were. He had definitely put his immortality to good use. Joe was a decent cook too, he thought, though sometimes it felt like Hob’s compliments were a bit extravagant. They were always glad when Dream took them out to eat on his nights.

After cleaning up, which Dream had a bit more practice helping with, Hob smiled inquiringly at Dream.

“Well, love, are you ready to show us your new place now?”

“Yes,” Dream confirmed. “But, I want it to be a surprise for you. Will you wear a blindfold?”

This was an interesting development, Joe thought. He wondered how much Hob trusted his brother. He knew he would hesitate before putting himself in Dream’s hands quite that entirely. Not that he thought Dream meant him harm, or even mischief. Just that he was a little… spacey sometimes. Like with the onions. And the knife.

“Of course,” Hob gazed up at him tenderly, and took his arm as they adjourned to the bedroom to search for some appropriate piece of material. Joe shook his head, and took the brushes he had been soaking to the bathroom sink for a good rinse. Should be just enough time before the two lovebirds were ready to go, and it didn’t look like he’d be painting any more today.

Finished with the brushes, he donned his jacket and shoes just in time for Dream and Hob to come out of their bedroom, jackets on and some length of something in Dream’s hand.

“We will walk to the corner first. You will hold Hob’s other elbow.” Joe nodded in agreement, glad that Hob had negotiated for a bit of extra security. It wasn’t every day, anymore, that Dream walked into lamp posts because he wasn’t paying attention, but, well. It had happened. More than once.

At the corner, they stopped for Dream to put the blindfold on Hob, and then Joe and Dream took his elbows and they continued on. As they rounded the corner, Joe spotted a pub, about halfway down, called the Black Horse. Ah, yes, that looked like his brother’s type of watering hole. Hadn’t he met Hob in a place like this? That would explain the excitement, and the anticipation for Hob’s reaction that had led to the blindfold rigmarole.

They entered the pub, Joe making sure Hob didn’t get banged on the doorway, and Dream making sure they were placed at just the right spot for maximum impact when they took the blindfold off. With a flourish, Dream removed the fabric, and Hob’s face lit up with a gratifying degree of wonder.

“It’s just like the White Horse! Oh, how clever of you!” he exclaimed. Dream blushed, as Joe thought wryly that it wasn’t particularly a clever thing to have done. But it seemed to have paid off, as Hob and Dream were about drowning in each other’s eyes.

I’ll just get myself a drink, Joe decided, giving up on anything reasonable coming from the lovebirds. There was a nice looking whiskey on the top shelf, and he pointed at it as the barkeep approached.

“I’ll have some of that.”

“Sure thing, Dick,” answered the barkeep. Joe, so taken aback at the casual insult that he took an actual step back, managed to crash into Dream.

“Behind,” Dream said, in his very driest tone.

“The same, on the rocks for me,” Hob requested, not having heard the barkeep’s response to Joe.

“That’s a twenty year old whiskey, Harry, you can’t have that on the rocks,” protested the barkeep. Hob confusedly placed his hand on his chest, where Joe noticed a couple more buttons were undone than earlier. Dream slid between them and put his arm around Hob’s shoulder, dangling his hand into the same little patch of hair that was showing between the open buttons.

“And what for you, Tom?” the barkeep continued, looking at Dream.

“My name is not Tom,” Dream stated, frowning at him mildly.

“Ach!” the barkeep exclaimed, “if I tried to keep everyone’s name straight in here I’d forget how to pour drinks!” He set the shot glasses in front of them and reached for the whiskey bottle. “Every Tom, Dick and Harry who comes in here is Tom, Dick and Harry to me. That last guy was Tom,” nodding at a table across the pub, “so that makes you Dick,” pouring for Joe, “you, Harry,” pouring for Hob, “and you Tom again,” pouring for Dream. “Hope you wanted whiskey too,” he added, with a look that seemed to warn Dream not to not want whiskey.

Joe relaxed, suddenly realizing the perceived insult that so surprised him hadn’t been intended at all. He raised his glass to the boys, chuckling internally as Hob removed his self-conscious hand from his chest and Dream settled his in there a bit further.

“Well, Brother, I guess that means you’re Not Tom, same as I’m Not Joe, eh?”

Dream raised his glass and clinked it against Joe’s, shrugging.

“I guess so, Brother.”

“Well, then, Tom,” Hob said with a smirk, raising his glass, “let’s get this celebration started!”

Next

After notes:

The Doylesian explanation is of course Tom Sturridge.

The kitchen scene and lamp post troubles were inspired by this post by @softest-punk

Thank you to @greebledrat (discord) and AnneMcSommers (ao3) for beta reading

[thedisneychef]

Do Pyaza Gosht Ki Recipe: How to Make It

Hi everyone! I'm excited to share my favorite recipe with you today: Do Pyaza Gosht. This spicy and flavorful Indian dish is a meal that will leave your taste buds dancing. It's an incredibly easy dish to make, so it's perfect for busy weeknights or when you want something delicious without spending too much time in the kitchen. With just a few simple ingredients, this hearty curry can be yours in no time at all. Keep reading to find out how to make do pyaza gosht from scratch! Ingredients I love making do pyaza gosht. It's a delicious dish that I make often, and it always goes down well with family and friends! To make this tasty meal, you'll need to gather the right ingredients. Firstly, storing onions is key when preparing do pyaza gosht. Make sure they are stored in a cool dark place for optimum freshness. Choosing your meat is also important - go for something lean and good quality if possible. You might want to opt for lamb or chicken mince depending on preference. Finally, don't forget to add plenty of seasoning like cumin powder, garam masala, coriander leaves, green chillies and ginger garlic paste to give your recipe an extra depth of flavour! Preparing The Onions After gathering all the necessary ingredients for the pyaza gosht recipe, we can now move on to prepare the onions. The first step is to finely chop them up into small pieces – this will allow us to properly stir-fry them in a pan later. To do so, I recommend using cutting techniques like dicing or mincing as it will give you even sized pieces that cook evenly and quickly. Once your onions are chopped and ready, heat some oil in a flat bottomed pan over medium high heat before adding in the onion bits. Then begin stirring continuously while they fry till they become golden brown in color - this should take about 10 minutes or less depending on how finely you have chopped them. Make sure to keep an eye out during this process as too much heat can burn these delicious vegetables! When done correctly, your fried onions should be lightly crispy yet still retain their flavor profile. Add these fried onions to whatever dish you’re making for a bit of extra zest and texture. Enjoy! Cooking The Meat I'm ready for the most exciting part of this recipe - cooking the meat! I can't wait to get started. First, I'll season the pieces with a mixture of salt and spices. Then, I'll marinate them in yogurt and lemon juice overnight so they're nice and juicy when cooked. After that, it's time to pan fry them until they're golden brown on each side. The aroma while frying is something special - my mouth is already watering! It only takes about 10 minutes or so to cook all of the pieces evenly. Once finished, I'm sure everyone will enjoy a delicious plate of pyaza gosht! Adding The Spices I love adding cumin to my do pyaza gosht dish. It adds such a wonderful flavor. Garam Masala is also a must-have for this recipe. I usually add it towards the end to really bring the flavors together. Turmeric is the perfect way to add a bit of color to the dish. I love how it brightens up the whole dish. I always make sure to not add too much of these spices as it can overpower the other flavors. But with just the right amount, these spices really bring the dish to life! Cumin When it comes to adding flavor and health benefits to your do pyaza gosht, cumin is an absolute must! Not only does the earthy spice add delicious aromatic notes to any dish, but its rich combination of iron, manganese, copper and calcium make for a nutritious addition. Plus, you don't have to worry about overpowering other flavors since cumin can be used in all sorts of flavorful combinations including chili powder, turmeric or coriander. And with so many variations on how you can use cumin in your dishes, chances are you'll find something that's perfect for dinner tonight - who knew cooking could be this easy? Garam Masala Moving on from cumin, garam masala is another great spice combination to use with your do pyaza gosht. This blend of spices is a must-have for Indian and other South Asian cuisines, adding an incredible depth of flavor that'll take your dish up another level. While there are many variations in the mix, you can expect to find things like cinnamon, nutmeg, cardamom and coriander - all combined together to create a truly unique taste sensation. Plus, it's packed full of vitamins and minerals that make it just as nutritious as its spicy counterparts! So why not give garam masala a try tonight? You won't be disappointed. Turmeric Okay, now let's talk about turmeric. This spice is a must-have in any Indian or South Asian kitchen and it has so much to offer! It adds an incredible depth of flavor to your dishes, as well as providing amazing health benefits. Turmeric also blends really nicely with other spices like cumin and garam masala, creating a delicious flavor combination that you can't resist. Plus, it's packed full of antioxidants which help boost immunity and fight disease - what more could you ask for? So why not add some turmeric to your next dish and see how much better it tastes? You won't regret it! Serving Suggestions Now that the Pyaza Gosht is prepared, it's time to explore how to serve it. Here are some serving accompaniments that can really bring out its flavors and create delicious flavor combinations. For a light lunch, you could pair the Pyaza Gosht with naan bread or roti for dipping in the sauce; alternatively, if you want something more substantial, you could try adding basmati rice on the side. To add crunchy texture and an acidic touch to complement the rich curry gravy, top your dish off with a few slices of lemon or lime wedges - this will really brighten up your plate! If you're looking for a vegetarian option to accompany your Pyaza Gosht, why not opt for roasted vegetables like sweet potatoes or cauliflower? These provide great texture and contrast against the richness of the curry sauce. If you prefer carbs over vegetables, boiled quinoa tossed with herbs makes a great side dish too - plus it's super healthy! Another suggestion would be chapati – these thin flatbreads soak up all of those lovely juices from the gosht making every mouthful so much more enjoyable. When creating a meal using Pyaza Gosht, playing around with different flavors and textures allows you to make each bite as unique as possible. Experimenting with ingredients like legumes, grains or fresh herbs helps build layers of complexity into any dish while keeping things interesting at the same time. Frequently Asked Questions What Is The Best Cut Of Meat To Use For Do Pyaza Gosht? When it comes to do pyaza gosht, you want a cut of meat that is tender enough for slow cooking. The best cuts are typically chuck roast or stewing beef as they require the right amount of stewing time and will result in melt-in-your-mouth deliciousness. Be sure to pick up your favorite spice blend to add flavor to your dish and make sure the spices adhere by marinating the meat prior to cooking. With this combination, you'll be able to enjoy an amazing traditional Indian meal! What Are The Health Benefits Of Eating Do Pyaza Gosht? Cooking up a delicious and healthy dish can be easy by using the right ingredients. Do pyaza gosht is an Indian recipe that combines spices, herbs, and other flavorful elements with meat to create a nutritious meal. By utilizing different spice variations and cooking tips while making this dish, you can benefit from its many health benefits. The combination of meats and vegetables in do pyaza gosht offer high levels of protein, vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants which all help maintain a strong immune system. As such, it's no surprise that this traditional Indian dish has become increasingly popular among health conscious individuals! How Long Does It Take To Prepare And Cook Do Pyaza Gosht? When it comes to preparing and cooking do pyaza gosht, the time needed will vary depending on your spice combinations and cooking methods. Generally speaking however, you can expect the process to take around 25-30 minutes of prep time and 30-40 minutes of cook time if using a stovetop method. If using an oven or slow cooker, it may take a bit longer. What Other Vegetables Can Be Added To Do Pyaza Gosht? When it comes to cooking do pyaza gosht, there are many variations you can make. You can experiment with different seasonings and spices to really customize the flavor of your dish. Additionally, you can even modify the cooking method depending on what other vegetables you decide to add. If you're looking for something a bit more creative than just onions, bell peppers or potatoes, why not try adding carrots, mushrooms or cauliflower? All of these veggies work perfectly with the recipe and provide an interesting twist on the traditional dish. Can Do Pyaza Gosht Be Frozen And Reheated? Yes, you can definitely freeze and reheat do pyaza gosht. It's best to cook it on the stove top or in a pressure cooker first before freezing so that all of the flavors are well blended and cooked thoroughly. Once cooled, transfer the dish into an air-tight container or freezer bag and be sure to label it with the date as well. To reheat, simply place your frozen dish in a pot over medium heat for about 15 minutes until heated through. Conclusion Do Pyaza Gosht is a classic Indian dish that can be prepared in no time at all. I love the combination of spices and vegetables in this unique recipe, making it both flavorful and healthy. It's also very easy to customize with your favorite ingredients, so you can make something truly special every time. The best part about Do Pyaza Gosht is that it can easily be frozen and reheated for future meals, meaning there's always some delicious food ready whenever I need it! All in all, Do Pyaza Gosht is a great way to enjoy a tasty meal without having to spend too much time or money on preparation. Read the full article

[nagipops]

hi! i just saw your shikamaru x smart reader piece and it's so clever and sweet and cute!! can I request kakashi or shikamaru trying (poorly) to cook for a gn!reader?

IS IT COOKED?

FEATURING: shikamaru nara!

SUMMARY: in which you and your lazy, culinary-challenged boyfriend attempt to cook up an edible meal.

WARNINGS: food, profanity

A/N: thank you so much, ari :D lowkey feel like kakashi would be a god in the kitchen, so have shikamaru <3

“What a drag...” Shikamaru sighed, draping over your shoulders as you dragged his limp body into the kitchen.

“C’mon, Shika, I’m feeling lazy today.” You turned so that your chest was facing him instead of your back, so his arms slipped around your waist instead. “Plus, I wanna taste your cooking! I’m sure you’ll be great at it.”

He whined with his face buried in your chest. “Finee... but only ‘cause I like you so much.”

You giggled, ruffling his dark hair and wrapping your arms around him. “Like me? What are we, grade schoolers?”

“Like like you.��� He pulled himself upright and planted a hand on your head as he entered the kitchen, pulling you in with him. “Okay boss, show me how it’s done.”

Grabbing ingredients out of the fridge and placing them on the countertop, you folded your arms in front of your chest. “Nope. You’re doing this on your own, Shika.”

His jaw crashed to the floor. “On my own?”

You nodded in satisfaction. “Yup. I told you, I’m feeling lazy today. C’mon, show me what you got.”

Shikamaru’s jaw was still on the ground as he gaped incredulously at you for a whole minute before he picked it up off the floor and stared dumbfounded at the heap of veggies and meats in front of him. “What am I… wha…”

Snickering at the fact that you finally caught your smart aleck boyfriend at a loss, you hopped up onto the opposite countertop, swinging your legs back and forth in amusement.

Your boyfriend gave you an exasperated look, slumping his shoulders. “(Y/N)…”

You flashed him a cheeky grin. “I believe in you! Whatever you make, I’m sure it’ll be delicious. I’ll help you out if you reaaaally need it.”

He trudged over and draped his arms around your shoulders, sighing heavily. “Fine… that cute face of yours is gonna be the death of me.”

A blush creeping up your neck, you smiled and hugged him back. “Mhm. Flattery’s not gonna get you out of this one, though.”

“Damn it.”

The crackle of noodles hitting the pan accompanied by the greasy aroma of cooking oil wafted through the kitchen as Shikamaru fumbled with a stir fry spatula while simultaneously attempting to halve an onion.

“Shit.” The wooden paddle clattered to the ground with a deafening crack amidst the cacophony within the kitchen. Meat was sizzling in the pan next to the noodles, the sink was running over the colander of broccoli, countless bowls, measuring cups, and ingredients were strewn about the countertops. You were running out of room to sit.

Biting back a grimace, you piped up quietly. “Shika, I think you got a little ahead of yourself…”

“I am doing perfectly fine, (Y/N).” He huffed, beads of sweat forming above his furrowed brows as he swiftly stirred the yakisoba noodles back and forth in the scalding hot pan. An earsplitting pop followed by a tall fume of smoke sounded from the pan of meat. Eyes panicked, he hollered, “Uh… your help would be greatly appreciated, though!”

Sliding off your tiny sliver of countertop in the blink of an eye, you rushed to your boyfriend’s side and clamped a lid over the pan before flipping off the burner, heaving a relieved sigh. “My god, Shika, you almost burnt our house down!”

He chuckled sheepishly, stirring the noodles more hesitantly. “Ah… sorry ‘bout that. Looks like I need your help, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, lightly flicking his temple. “Even if you burn the whole house down, you aren’t getting my help. That was a one-time save.”

The end of his mouth quirked up in a smirk. “Is it, now? Should I do it again?”

“Try me, witty boy.”

Shikamaru eyed you with a challenging stare, raising an eyebrow. “Whatever you say, boss.” He reached over to remove the lid from the previously flaming pan as you stood rooted to your spot. Clouds of smoke and the acrid fumes of burnt meat instantaneously corrupted your senses as your boyfriend grabbed a pair of tongs and flipped the bright pink slab of meat over so the impossibly charred side was upright.

The two of you stared at the pitch black block of… what could maybe— possibly— pass as meat.

“Well, it’s definitely… cooked?”

“Ugh… Choji would be utterly disappointed in me, huh?”

“Incredibly disappointed. Keep going, though. This is… still edible. I hope?”

Shikamaru heaved an exhausted sigh. “C’mon, babe, isn’t this valid proof that I’m not built for this cooking thing?”

“Careful, those noodles are going to burn too.” You guided his hands back to the non-burning pan, allowing him to stir them back and forth once again. “Timing is everything. You started the noodles too early, and now the veggies aren’t going to be chopped up in time.”

“Constructive criticism, please. Constructive.” He stirred the noodles with a bit more diligence and effort this time as they turned golden brown.

You giggled, carefully grabbing the knife and chopping the abandoned onion in half. “Look, turn off the heat. I’ll watch the noodles for you, you have to cut the vegetables. Sound good?”

Shikamaru whistled in relief as he flipped off the stove. “Music to my ears, boss.” He slyly snaked his arms around your waist as you organized the countertop for him. “Man, this is exhausting,” he whined into your ear. “How the hell do you do this three times a day?”

You smirked in satisfaction, reaching an arm behind your head to ruffle his hair. “I ask myself the very same question. I think we should cut it down to two, no?”

“Noooo… your cooking’s too damn tasty…” he pressed a soft kiss to your neck as you felt his body get limper and limper.

You clicked your tongue, slapping the side of his head. “Hey, no sleeping on the job. Get to work.”

Digging his chin into your shoulder as he unraveled his arms from your body, he sighed, “Aye aye, captain.”

After an abundance of eye watering slices, near finger amputations, and arguments over if “julienne” is a name or a knife technique, Shikamaru was finally completed with his masterpiece of a dish.

A makeshift blindfold fashioned out of a random scarf was fastened around your eyes as you awaited his creation at the dinner table as your boyfriend rustled around the kitchen.

A deafening crash sounded from a few feet away, and your heart leapt out of your chest. “Umm… Shika?”

“I’m fine!” He shouted, his voice wavering ever so slightly. “Uh, just some— shit— just some technical difficulties!”

Stifling a laugh, you eased into your seat once more. “Okay, I’m waiting!”

After a few more minutes of clattering and curses, you heard the tune of your favorite classical song whistled by none other than Shikamaru. “Welcome to the Narastaurant, (Y/N). For today, I present you with…” His fingers hastily fumbled with the knot at the back of your head. “Wait, shit…”

You heaved an amused sigh as a grin formed on your lips. “You need help there?”

“No, I— I got it…” A sharp tug pulled your head backwards as the scarf unraveled into his hands.

“Shika!”

“Shoot, sorry ‘bout that.” He pressed a soft kiss to the back of your head. “Anyways…”

Your eyes were drawn to the colorful plate in front of you. Meticulously arranged into a rainbow of nearly charred veggies perched atop a heaping pile of noodles and half-pink-half-black slices of meat was a steaming plate of yakisoba. A gasp rose in your throat. “Shika! This is incredible!” You whipped around to face him as he stood proudly over you. “How did you plate this so well?”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Growing up with that flower pig Ino taught me a few things about color theory and spacing and whatnot.” He rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly. “As for taste…”

You raised your eyebrows, turning back to the plate in front of you. “Ah, yes, the taste…” Clasping your hands together, you gave a quick thank you for the meal before snapping your chopsticks in half and digging into the colorful dish. You raised a well-balanced bite of meat, veggies, and noodles to your lips and were instantly overwhelmed by the pungent, bitter taste of burnt oil. Pursing your lips as your lungs begged for oxygen, you forced yourself to get it down your throat. “Ahem, ahh, this is… this is something!”

Not one to get offended over his mistakes, Shikamaru only chuckled from behind you. “No kidding. Let me have a try.” Whipping out his own pair of chopsticks, he grabbed a bundle of noodles and two slices of charred meat before raising it to his lips, nearly coughing it back up as soon as he did so. “Oh— oh, god, oh god that’s bad.” Both of your hacking coughs rang throughout the dining room. “I feel like I just ate Satan’s ashes.” He whispered in between strained coughs, tears forming in his eyes.

Laughter welled up in your throat in between coughs as your eyes began to water as well. “I mean—” Cough. “I mean, Satan might like this?”

“Gee— thanks, babe. I’m sure he’d love it if we— we showed up to his annual potluck in hell with burnt pieces of who-knows-what.” Shikamaru was laughing too, gripping the edges of the table as he attempted to regain his composure.

The two of you laughed and coughed and laughed at his failed debut as a chef, teasing and poking each other at the dinner table.

Let’s just say you definitely didn’t eat Satan’s ashes for dinner that day.

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! have a lovely day everyone <3

[taleasnewastime]

5 and 12 with Namjoon please

Hello, thanks for the request! I hope you enjoy :)

5. "Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself." & 12. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” | Namjoon | Word count: 874.

.

The smell of food is normally a good thing when walking into a house, but not when it’s accompanied by the sound of sizzling and chopping meaning the food is actually being cooked and hasn’t just been ordered, and especially when the house you’ve just walked into belongs to Namjoon.

You dump your belongings by the door haphazardly and head in the direction of the kitchen wary of what you’re about to find there. You don’t announce your presence, loud music drifting through the flat disguising any noise you make. Still, you treat your footsteps as if you’re walking through an area infested with land mines; long steady strides, not wanting Namjoon to hear you so you can experience first-hand this rare, yet worrying event.

At first glance, everything seems fine. The smell is actually nice, nothing burning, no smoke. The chopping is even, no screams or blood being produced from any vital organs. But the longer you linger by the door the worse the situation appears.

“Why are you holding the knife like that?”

Namjoon twists to look at you, knife and all.

“Jesus,” you put your hands in the air as if he’s pointing a gun at you and is threatening to fire. Though he may as well be the way that knife is firmly pointed at you.

Namjoon rolls his eyes as if you’re being dramatic, twisting back to the kitchen bench so he can continue chopping, or whatever it is he is attempting to do to that onion.

“You shouldn’t jump up on people with a knife if you don’t want them to react like that,” he says over his shoulder.

You bite your tongue, he makes a fair comment, though you don’t necessarily agree with every word. Still, it’s easier to not say anything then get into an argument over the details.

You take the few small steps to the counter he’s working at, leaning your side into it and trying to look casual as you watch him work. It’s truly a fascinating site, seeing a man with the sheer brain capacity he has, cutting an onion as if he has never seen one before. You itch to step in and help him out, or to at least give him some verbal pointers, but you again bite your tongue.

That is, until the knife slips on the surface of the onion, gliding down its edge to narrowly miss his fingers that sit holding the onion.

“Careful of your fingers,” you blurt.

You feel rather than see the eye roll he sends your way. Ignoring your comment, he continues to butcher the onion. When he deems the job complete, he takes the whole chopping board to the cooker and throws it into a frying pan already sizzling with tomatoes.

“You know you should fry off the onions first,” you say as you continue to watch his every move.

Again, he ignores you. Bringing back the chopping board he has a look around at the veg that still needs to be chopped. He takes his time about the decision, in no hurry at all by the looks of it, and the effect only makes you itch more.

“Are you not going to at least stir those onions in?”

“Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself,” he says it flatly, and you know you have hit a nerve.

“Really? You’re really not giving off that impression currently,” you try not to smile, try not to laugh at how pissed off he is.

“I cook,” he picks up a carrot and then the knife proceeds to slip and not cut into it several times.

You just hum at him as you watch, still trying so hard not to laugh at him.

“I’m just better at other house chores, ok?” He huffs.

“If you want my help, you can just ask for it,” you say gently.

“I don’t want your help,” he says and then as if seeing how rude that might sound, carries on. “This was supposed to be a nice meal, that I cooked for you. I just wanted to do something nice for once.”

“This is nice,” you protest, but the look he shoots you shows he doesn’t buy a word of it. “Ok, maybe next time a takeaway would be nicer.”

He huffs a laugh, drops the knife on the chopping board, making you wince, and then turns fully to you. Still leant on the edge of the counter, he crowds your space, leaning into you so he can place his lips against yours.

It’s soft and cute and you would definitely deepen it if it wasn’t for the smoky smell that invades your space.

“That will be the onions I told you to stir,” you mumble against his lips, and gain an annoyed groan from him.

You place your lips against his in a chaste kiss before pushing him away so you can assess the damage. The tomatoes he has almost expertly fried down are starting to blacken, while the onion he’d chopped into varying massive chucks are still raw on top. The sight makes you burst out laughing.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you say over your shoulder, earning another groan from Namjoon.

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter Nine

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6500

Warnings: Language as always, warning of racist language (Nush talking about her mother's experiences), yearning, fluff to second base (yes, my darlings- IT IS ON!), alcohol is mentioned, food, anxiety attacks.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

People often think artists

Create with their hands

But really they create

with their hearts

So please be gentle

For we wear our vulnerability

On our sleeves

And freely give all we have

Hoping someone will fall

In love with the parts we offer

R. Evelyn

Chapter Nine

The sharp buzz of the door startles you out of your daydream. Laden with roughly the entire contents of your spice cupboard, vegetables, meat and prawns, your hands are crisscrossed with creases from where the weight of the totes has gouged at your skin. A smart-looking kindly gentleman greets you, “You must be Ms Pierce. Mr Pike has asked for you to wait here for him.”

Wow! Marcus’ place has a concierge - who did he have to blow to get a place like this?!

Throwing the bags onto one of the hotel lounge-like chairs, you slump into another as you rub soreness from your hands. A small ping tells you that the lift has arrived - you look over in the direction of the noise, a tremor of excitement rippling through you. An adorably scruffy Marcus, wearing old jeans and a t-shirt, steps out - his face utterly beaming on seeing you. “Hey! How are you doing?” he leans in to kiss your cheek twice - hang on, when did this start being a thing?

“Why didn’t you let me pick you up? You’ve carried so much over- lemme see your hands,” his brow knits on seeing the rapidly reddening welts as he takes your hands in his, brushing his thumbs gently across your palms.

“You live four roads away from me - they’re not that bad! And anyway, you can help me now- which floor do you live on?” You outwardly roll your eyes at the sweetness Marcus shows you, secretly enjoying the stroke of his fingers and the ghostly press of his lips still burning a hole in your cheek.

Marcus takes all of the bags from the chair, refusing point blank to entertain you helping him to take them upstairs - you watch as his arms twitch under the weight, enjoying the mixture of confusion and shock at your strength across his face, “you carried all of this?”

Nodding at him, you try to take a bag again, but he dangles it just out of reach, “Watch it - you do realise that I have two other brothers apart from Ads? I will think nothing of rugby tackling you to the floor and pinning you down,” you warn, enjoying the flush brought to his cheeks.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Marcus flusters as he calls the lift, handing you the smallest, lightest bag.

✪✪✪✪✪

Exiting at the top floor, you’re taken aback by the amount of light and quiet that washes throughout the building. Feeling so removed from the shadows cast from the tower blocks and the hustle and bustle of the streets below, the broad daylight offers a sense of serenity, a peace that invites itself into the soul and makes itself at home. As Marcus unlocks the door to his flat, you kick off your shoes at the entrance, “You don’t have to do that,” he offers through the keys in his mouth, holding the door open with his elbow, still refusing any help from you.

“Oh believe me, if I didn’t, my mum’s radar would go off and I would be cruising for a bruising,” you giggle, taking in the glorious spaciousness of his apartment, “I promise my feet aren’t too stinky and that I put on clean socks.”

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Marcus’ eyes crinkle at you, “Can I get you something to drink or eat?”

“A coffee would be ace - strong and black please,” you reply, your gaze drinking in the details of his home. Books line the shelves along one wall - such a mixture of titles ranging from airport bestsellers to obscure art catalogues - the relief to see actual paper and hardbacks adorning the shelves rather than trinkets and plants when so many keep their books electronically in their pockets.

A couple of large canvases lie propped against another - long hours preventing them from being hung - their bright colours sure to bring joyful hues to quite a stark room. There are a few photo frames dotted around - mostly pictures of a moment in time rather than poses - of people you assume are friends and family from back in the States. Handing you a steaming mug, Marcus looks over your shoulder as you look at a photo of an older couple dancing and laughing at a wedding, “That’s my mamá and papá at my oldest sister’s wedding. It was such a magical day - just so much love in the air.”

“You can feel the joy radiating from them,” you offer, lowering your gaze from him to grab the frame next to the picture of his parents, “Are these your sisters or cousins? You all look very alike.”

“Yeah, my little sisters,” he grins proudly. “This one is Beth - she’s two years younger and is a paediatrician in Texas. Has two kids with her wife, Sophie. And this one is Cat - she’s doing her own thing out on the West Coast as a musician. They definitely inherited all the clever and cool genes.”

“Hah! You’re kinder to your sisters than I am to my brothers,” you grin, “They’re all total idiots but due to some weird genetic and biological insistence, I still love them.”

Taking a gulp of your coffee, you turn back towards him, “Come on you, we’d better get to work if you want a curry this evening.”

He pouts, looking more like a sulky little boy than a middle aged man. You can’t help but laugh at the sad puppy dog eyes he is conjuring at the thought of work, “Oh poppet, what’s wrong?” you teasingly mock.

“I kinda hoped you were a magician who could just magic a curry outta nowhere so we could watch films til the others arrive,” Marcus grumps shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Well, there is UberEats for that but you horrible lot put me up to this so you’re going to help,” you wag your finger at him, “But as you’re the only one here, you get the honour of being the chief taster,” you add, tapping him playfully on the nose.

With a soft huff and a furrow of the brow, Marcus guides you into the kitchen where, whilst he was making your coffee, he has helpfully already put all the fresh produce in his fridge as the sides are delightfully blank apart from the bags of spices.

“What are we making today, Chef?”

“Ok, meat dishes are a spiced yoghurt leg of lamb, a keema - don’t you give me that look, a cardamom butter chicken, and, a prawn and courgette curry,” you turn to Marcus’ fridge to find the lamb, “Needs to come to room temperature before we cook it.”

“My tummy is rumbling already,” Marcus adds, his eyes glinting excitedly as he licks along his lower lip, the skin glistening damply. You have never quite figured out whether your love of his lips is due to their fullness or the association with the kindness of his words.

“Hah- you’re not getting away without having some veggies, too, mister,” you cluck as you hand him a bag of onions and several bulbs of garlic to skin, chop and crush for the various dishes.

“Ok, Moooom,” Marcus dramatically rolls his eyes at your dictate, “I admit, I’d rather eat sugary or salty things over green stuff but I can make an exception for curried veg.”

The arch of your eyebrow virtually reaches your hairline at him teasingly calling you mom, so you reach for the towel, twist it and flick him hard on what you’d hoped would be his hip but catch him square on his arse instead.

A yelp of pain and wide eyes greet your action, “Did you just…? Oh, it is on.! You might think you’re tough from your brothers but my sisters taught me sneaky tactics.”

“Come at me, bro!” you taunt from the other side of the kitchen, putting up a boxing stance.

Brandishing the hand without the paring knife in your general direction, he answers, “Nope, gonna use the element of surprise and attack when you least expect it!”

Tutting your tongue at Marcus’ weak ass response, you grab the spices you need to prepare under the power of your pestle and mortar. With the waft of roasting cumin soaring through the air and your battle with your boss at a supposedly declared ceasefire, everything starts to feel comfortable and easy again. You could be six years old and standing on the chair next to your mum, watching like a hawk as she lovingly prepared meals for your family with an ever burgeoning belly. It was then, during those hours shared in the galley kitchen that became your time with her when normally it felt pretty split between her work as a GP and your brothers.

What the fuck… You jump out of your skin when a warm, solid wall presses you out of your nostalgic reverie, “Hah! Pinned ya! Sneaky tactics- told ya they worked,” a deep, soft voice whispers in your ear.

Your heart flutters like a bird trying to escape its rib cage with the closeness of Marcus, the heat rising through your body from your proximity to him - a visceral response to the glorious cocktail of masculine smell from his aftershave and body wash.

What do I do next?

Why can’t I bloody think straight?

Wiggling yourself around so that you face him, his face now so close that you can feel his warm breath upon your cheeks. Your eyes playfully catch the steady gaze of Marcus’ deep soulful pools. It would only take the smallest of movements to reach forwards and kiss him right on that stupidly gorgeous, plush Cupid’s bow and crease. But… what if he doesn’t want that? He’s my fucking boss - that would be a stellar move to make…

Instead of the tiny incline forwards to press your lips against his as every inch of you screams to do so, you drop to the floor and crawl out from between his legs, “Not pinned well enough it seems,” you tease haltingly as your tongue sticks in your dry throat.

As you check the browning of the cumin seeds, out of the corner of your eye you see Marcus’ head drop sadly, hearing a small sigh - his hands still upon the work surface and feet not having moved from the position he had pinned you in moments earlier.

Did he want to...? No, surely not.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Nush,” Marcus humbly apologises, pushing himself off the side, “I hope that I haven’t made things awkward.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” you softly say, pouring the roasted cumin into the mortar, ready to be ground, “I was the one who flicked you on your arse - I am the one who should be apologising.”

You beckon gently to Marcus, who has now taken refuge in the furthest corner of the kitchen from you - wringing his hands instead of chopping the onions, “Come over here - I want you to experience one of my most favourite smells of childhood. These are roasted cumin seeds and when you grind them, they release the most heavenly scent.”

After a few grinds, you offer the bowl towards Marcus’ face as he closes the gap between you, “I… Wow! I wouldn’t have thought it would make such a difference but it’s almost like you’ve entirely transformed it. See,” the dimple deepens in that right cheek of his, “you are a magician.”

“I love how spices - a bit like paint - can take on completely different characters depending on how you treat them. Leave the spice whole and you have this mild and fragrant taste. If you crush them, then their attitude comes back tenfold with a vengeance. Toast them, and they may as well be Clark Kent in a phone booth.”

Looking up you see Marcus gazing at you with a sweet half smile on his face - could he like me… like that?

“Sorry, you don’t need to hear me blathering on,” you fluster, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture as the heat rises through your face.

Shaking his head gently without dropping your regard, “No. No, please don’t ever stop. Your passion for things is beautiful.”

“Growing up, I didn’t realise that other people didn’t have whole cupboards filled to the brim with herbs, spices and seasonings. I mean, for all the damage the British Empire reeked, you’d have hoped that the spices would have entered more of their culture, but no! Apparently, my family was the weird one for having food with a flavour,” you shrug your shoulders at some of the ridiculous things you’d heard as a child - accusations of differences you’d never thought to be of note.

Marcus chuckles at your indignance, “It’s funny you should say that. I didn’t realise that my mamá had an accent until it was pointed out to me when I was a kid.”

Noting your slightly confused expression, Marcus explains, “She’s Argentinian- came to the States as a political refugee as she was a journalist following the disappearances during the Dirty War. Met my dad, and I came along very soon after, and the rest is history..”

You can’t help but laugh at the flush on Marcus’ cheeks as he recounts his personal history to you, “Love can’t be held back when it hits and it’s obvious that they’re still crazy about each other now from that photo.”

“Exactly, no point in wasting time when you know what you want,” Marcus grins, looking at his feet.

“My parents have a similar story. My dad is as English as they come - I mean we’re on a freaking island so there’s no true thing as being completely English. My mum is from Pakistan - Karachi - it’s in the South.”

“She came over due to the fighting between East and West Pakistan - the two countries that are now Pakistan and Bangladesh. It kept interrupting her studies to become a doctor so she came to England and restarted her degree here.”

Marcus’ brow creases in thought, “Why did she restart her degree? Could the credits not just be transferred to the college she moved to in the UK?”

“Hah- yeah. It was the seventies, during a time where all Southern Asians were P*kis - no matter where they were from on the Indian subcontinent- and thought of as dirty, lesser beings. There were constant race riots for anyone who wasn’t ethnically white or English. She would never have been taken seriously with her mediocre medical training from some Adobe hut in the middle of a jungle,” you fume, pounding the seeds into fragments. The mortar being threatened with the same fate too.

Marcus’ fingers wrap around your wrist to try and prevent your rage at the ignorance of others from causing you an injury, “I am so sorry,” he pulls you into a warm, tender hug, tucking your head under his chin, “How long before food can take care of itself so we can put a film on? I think we both need a rest.”

“Hmmm, ten minutes and then most things can simmer or be switched off ready for a reheat or proper cook this evening,” you say, leaning reluctantly out of his comforting arms to go check on the bubbling saucepans of food.

“‘K. I’ll go get things set up so you can flop for a bit,” Marcus touches you gently on your shoulder as he goes to set up the front room. You go to squeeze his hand but it’s removed from your shoulder too quickly for your response.

✪✪✪✪✪

“You ready?” Marcus calls through the wall as you turn off the heat from the final pans.

“Mhm,” you mumble in response to his question - double, triple checking that everything is off. Too many fire alarms ruining perfectly lovely meals or moments.

“What did you pick?” You ask, curling up on the other end of the sofa to Marcus, “Do you have no cushions?”

“Shit, no -I’m a guy, what can I say? - lemme grab the pillows from the bed,” Marcus jumps up, calling through from his bedroom, “Bet you have loads on your couch.”

“A fuckload, but, mainly to hide the fact the springs have gone. It’s like a precarious balancing act of comfort on there,” you surreptitiously sniff the pillow, inhaling the smell of Marcus’ shampoo, “Did you give me your pillow?”

A confused look is shot at you from the other end of the sofa, “Whaddya mean?”

“Smells of your hair,” you say as you squish it into the perfect comfy shape, “Like a mixture of lemon and eucalyptus.”

“That’s a sharp nose you’ve got. I gave you the other side though,” Marcus huffs through a chuckles he shakes his head at your somewhat strange comment, “Guess I’ve been sleeping across both sides then.”

“Best thing about sleeping alone- getting to starfish across the bed. Unless of course…”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at your awkward dig to find out whether he’d brought home the goddess from Friday’s antics, “So you wanna know if I brought home Kemi?”

“She was very beautiful. You’d have been mad not to,” you try to school your expression as best you can, keeping your eyes glued to Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly singing about true love, desperate to hide the jealousy coursing through your veins.

“Must be mad then. Didn’t even kiss her,” Marcus honestly answers whilst copying your tactic of staring at the tv, “She could see that there was someone else I liked so it would have been cruel to have done anything.”

You mull this over in silence, trying not to speak, to ask a million questions.

“Nush.”

“Mhm?”

“Can I talk to y…”

You both jump as an alarm goes off on your phone to remind you to turn the lamb down in the oven.

“Oh shit. Hold that thought,” you jump up from the sofa, heading in the direction of the kitchen with zero thought of what the man at the end of the sofa is desperately trying to tell you. Fiddling with Marcus’ ridiculously swanky oven until it looks like it is doing what you want it to do, you walk back in with two ice cold beers from his fridge.

“Raided your fridge,” you cheekily grin, holding one out to Marcus, the condensation running, down your fingers, “Hope you don’t mind!”

“Good thinking, Batman,” Marcus nods in appreciation, “Any more alarms set to scare us both?”

“Only due to go off when the film is done, so…” you yawn widely, “We’ve got a while yet.”

Marcus’ hand that was slung over the back of the sofa, lifts to stroke your shoulder, “You sleepy? C'mere, you.” With a soft tug of your t-shirt sleeve, he pulls you into his side - your willingness to sink into his broad chest very apparent. Your ear is pressed against him, his heartbeat singing a lullaby to you as his fingers stroke and caress the silken waves of your hair. You wonder at how this man - a total stranger a week ago - has seemingly knitted himself into becoming a cocoon of safety for you, his gentleness and calm offering a haven of tranquility in your otherwise cacophonous world, as the light in the room slowly fades to black.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Uh oh.”

“Hey, welcome back, sunshine!” a gentle pair of fingers stroke back the hair that had drifted into your face as you dozed.

“Sorry for falling asleep. Again,” trying to finesse your way through the heat flaming your cheeks, you offer an awkward grin towards your chuckling pillow, “Guess we’d better start getting things finished as we’ve only got a couple of hours until everyone arrives.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Marcus! I don’t want to move either but this curry won’t finish cooking itself.”

“Spit spot, there’s work to be done,” Marcus trills as he adopts his best attempt at a British accent.

“What the fuck was that? Did you just turn into Dick Van Dyke or something?” You tease mercilessly at the appalling sound coming from those lips, choking back laughter at his mock offended face.

“C’mon, you’re right. We’d better get moving,” Marcus stands with a stretch and a creak before reaching back to tug you to your feet.

Back under the glowing lights of Marcus’ kitchen, his presence is now constantly close to yours as you glide together around the space - stirring, chopping and checking. Every time he passes, above the general aroma of cumin and coriander, the onions and garlic, you can smell the cedar and amber upon his skin- a deliciously masculine scent that only seeks to entangle your senses further.

“Here, try this,” you hold out a heaped teaspoon of mince curry to Marcus, “This is the keema - I promise that I only put in the two chillies you chopped for me, this time.”

“Mmm, that’s so good,” he says thickly between chews, stealing the spoon from you as he dives in for a second, third, fourth spoonful.

“Hahaha! Leave some for the others- and you need to try it with some raita and fried onions too,” you check through your dog-eared, yellowed and slightly sticky recipe book that your mum had handed you the day you’d left home at eighteen - a memo of all the times you had cooked them together.

“Shit, I’d better start the chicken,” going through the spices in front of you, you search for the cardamoms that would make the butter chicken sing, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Marcus’ head snaps up from the green beans he was preparing towards you, “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I can’t find the cardamoms for the butter chicken - gah I knew I’d fuck this up!” you cry, scraping your trembling hands through your hair, eyes flashing around the room wildly as your cortisol rises, making you want to run and scream at your failure to feed your friends.

“Whoa - where’s this coming from? C’mon, look at me. Look at me, Nush,” Marcus has his hands on either side of your shoulders, squeezing them gently, “There’s enough here to feed our whole office for the week with the daals you prepared yesterday, the vegetables we’re about to make and the meats that we’ve cooked up already here. Andy is bringing all the rice and naan, Kiri is bringing beers and Dian is on gin and tonic duty. You have done more than enough and I will not allow you to get this upset over one missing ingredient especially when there is a small store downstairs that I’m sure will have it, if we cannot find it after we look for it together.”

After seeing your numb nod as an agreement, Marcus moves his hands to the side of your head to focus your gaze on him rather than the panic seeping through you. As he strokes his thumbs across your cheeks, you allow your eyes to close and your breathing to regain a normal pattern.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?” Marcus searches your now open eyes.

“My reactions are ridiculous. Most people tell me to stop being so stupid and that just whips the storm inside my head even more,” you whisper, “But you. You know how to slow everything down and stop the spinning.”

The corner of Marcus’ mouth twitches, “D’ya wanna know a secret?” You nod at him, “As you know, I was married before. When it ended, I totally spiralled. The world kept spinning too fast and I experienced constant anxiety, very nearly burning out of my role.

“I was lucky. My boss was understanding but made me promise to get some support. He knew of someone mental health trained within the FBI who was there for mainly hostage negotiations - not part of the true psych team but someone who could help without it turning up on your record.

“Kwame worked with me for almost a year - pretty much to the point my decree absolute came through. Our sessions were done on a track - by running with me, he was teaching me the skills I needed to control my fears. By my feet hitting the tarmac, he was grounding me. By going over running techniques, he was teaching me how to control my breathing- taking longer and deeper breaths. And running is just repetition. A mindful repetition that allows your brain to have a bit of a break.

“So when I see you start to spiral, I try to give you the same steps he taught me. Get you grounded, opposite me so you copy my breathing and hope that gets you on the right track.”

“Thank you,” you drop your head forwards, relaxing onto his chest. He feels so - safe.

“You don’t need to thank me. Well, okay maybe you do as look what I’ve just spotted,” Marcus holds the offending spice aloft.

“Oh my god, I could fucking kiss you. You have just saved the curry,” you dramatically declare, clutching the cardamom jar to your heart before placing it next to the other ingredients on the counter.

“Go on then.”

What?

His comment makes you snap your head over to catch Marcus’ tremulous gaze, his eyes darting between the floor and your lips. He takes a small step, closing the small distance between the two of you, threading his fingers between yours. Each slow movement offers an unspoken opportunity for you to step away. To tease him and move on with the day.

But why on Earth would you?

With your heart racing faster and faster, you lure him ever closer with your eyes, soft but absolute in their conviction of what was about to pass between you. A small part of you understands that when you kiss him, something will change forever. That within his lips you may find the place to call home - the aching in your stomach may cease and life could start to make sense again. The anxieties of the week washing away, the pain of your collective pasts and the hint of a brighter, happier future before you.

When he doesn’t move again, you seize the moment. Pushing up onto your socked tiptoes, you tilt your chin, inclining your face until your lips come to rest upon his in the sweetest, chastest kiss. Drawing back slightly to check that Marcus is okay with a raise of your eyebrows and widened eyes, he holds your gaze steadily, similarly stunned - a mirror of each other with racing hearts and slightly parted lips. It’s like in that moment everything around you ceases to exist as anything other than extraneous nonsense - all the noise inside your head silenced by that one touch.

A small dumbstruck smile creeps across Marcus’ lips before he lowers his head to press another gentle kiss upon you. Then another. Then another. Each press of your lips a little longer. A little deeper. Your lips part to allow his tongue entry as every single thought is quietened by the taste of him. Dropping hands for his to cradle your face and yours to thread through his hair as your bodies press together tightly.

Oh the taste of him is utterly exquisite! From where you’ve been using him as chief curry taster, there’s an element of spices with the tiniest hint of mint. And how you have missed having that beautifully solid warmth of his body next to yours. Inhaling his breaths that fall upon you, your hearts match each other’s rhythms as your lips explore each other, every sensation drawing together to create a humming ball of energy, like you are standing at the point where lightning strikes the Earth.

✪✪✪✪✪

Hands fisted tightly in each other’s clothing - both stuck in the quandary of wanting to tear the fabric from your bodies but also frightened of pushing the other too far. Finally pulling apart, you gaze upon Marcus - all lust blown pupils and dopey smiles. Your foreheads come back to rest against each other, unable to quite let go just yet, not wanting to break the spell and return to reality.

“I have wanted to kiss you since perhaps the first time I met you,” Marcus murmurs as his lips gently ghost over your cheeks, “Maybe even from seeing the photo in your file when Andy drove me here from the airport.”

“Was the person, me?” You quietly ask, finally with the confidence to finish that conversation, “The reason you didn’t kiss or sleep with the goddess?”

He drops his eyes as he gives you a small nod, “Normally, I’d have just asked you out but I was scared of fucking up. It’s been a long time since I felt a spark with anyone.

“You’ve entered my life in this whirlwind of intelligence, beauty and tenderness - I didn’t want to frighten you or make you feel uncomfortable if you didn’t reciprocate.”

A thousand thoughts flood your mind as Marcus says those words. All at once, you want to tell him how safe he makes you feel. How much now that you’ve started kissing him, you never want to stop. How the cruel critics of slumber, silence themselves when you feel his heartbeat against your cheek.

Instead you stand there, silent.

Trying to stroke out the creases you’ve created in his t-shirt as you attempt to find words to put into a logical order, you notice his face twitching when the material under your fingers makes contact with his sides, “Oh Marcus, are you ticklish?”

“Um, no,” Marcus tries to deny breezily as he takes a small, hesitant step back from you, pretending to steady himself.

Making a small movement towards him, your hands at the same level as the point of the bunched fabric - you ask, “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Marcus is now eyeing you suspiciously - desperate to kiss you again but also a little worried as to what havoc your fingers might reek.

“Then, why are you moving away from me?”

“No reason…” his usually deep voice now a little tighter and higher, “Nush… What are you about to ARGH!”

His knees crumble beneath him as you attack his sensitive sides, “Gah! Quit it, woman,” he weakly commands between wheezes and hoots of laughter.

Taking full advantage of Marcus’ prone and vulnerable position, you take the opportunity to straddle him - effectively pinning him to the floor, “This is how you pin someone.”

“I let you pin me,” Marcus corrects you with a wink.

“Oh really?” you contest, entirely unconvinced by his bravado.

“Yeah,” he says with a small wiggle, bringing his hands to the back of your head, “Cos y’see, I can flip our positions quite easily.”

Suddenly, you find yourself flat on your back in Marcus’ kitchen with zero air in your lungs to form any sensible thought other than to kiss him hard. His large hands cradle your head as he props himself gently above you on his elbows. You feel his entire body covering yours. Deliciously pressing against every single inch of you and oh how it takes every bit of the minutismal amount of self control you have to not beg him to fuck you senseless into that floor.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Shit, is that your door?”

“Fuck,” Marcus pushes himself up to kneeling between your legs, “Can we pretend we’re not in?”

The harsh realisation of an evening with your colleagues, albeit lovely people, sinks in to you both.

“Nope,” you groan, popping the p with a deflated gusto, “Hang on, don’t buzz them up until I’ve tucked my boobs back into my bra.”

“I dunno, makes for easier access,” Marcus lopsidedly grins with a wink as he heads for the door.

“You certainly didn’t seem to make hard work of it earlier,” you mumble at him, before you affix a smile to your face, “Hey! How are you all doing?”

A sea of never ending hugs envelopes and separates you from Marcus as everyone piles into his apartment. The stupid grin still firmly in place on your face since you’d first kissed, you find that every time you look over at him, he’s gazing right back, mirroring that lovestruck smile.

“Oh my god, it all smells so amazing,” Dian waxes lyrical, squeezing you tightly as she inhales a lungful of exotically scented air, “What’ve we got?”

You take her by the hand into the kitchen to show all the different things you had bubbling away. Andy ducks into the kitchen behind you, laden with bags filled with pilau rice, naan and chapatis, and a beautiful small bunch of spring flowers in his other hand - tiny tête-à-tête daffodils with multiple heads along each stalk, brilliant yellow and red tulips standing like soldiers and the otherworldly looking stems of hyacinth, wickedly scenting the air under your nose as he thrusts them under there.

“Hey pretty girl, here’s all the bits you asked for. You deserve a much bigger bunch for what I’ve roped you into but I know you love the early blooms,” he offers by way of apology, sticking a kiss to the side of your forehead, “Smells fucking good though as ever. Hope you don’t mind but I’ve brought a box to take some home for Greg - he was a jealous arse this evening so I suppose I should share.”

“You know the way I cook, enough for several small armies,” you wonkily grin at him, truly thankful for the part he’d had to play, “‘Fraid there’s no easy way to say this and you will have to be the one to break it to Greg, but there’s no butter chicken tonight.”

“You’d better have a damn good excuse for this slatternly behaviour, madam,” Andy gives you a serious side eye for this infraction.

“Well…”

“Initially Nush couldn’t find the cardamoms but then we ran out of time. Plenty of food here, though,” Marcus answers for you, his hand gently holding your hip as he reaches around you to grab a couple of beers from the fridge.

You see Andy catch Marcus’ hand lightly stroking your side as he walks back to Kiritopa, but are entirely grateful when his expression and mouth say nothing. The light chatter in the kitchen, whilst Dian dips a teaspoon into all the pots, is interrupted by a small knock at the door. Sticking your head around the kitchen door, you spot Marcus opening the door to a nervous-looking Harper. Andy sidles past you, to pull her into the main room, rather than her previous position of standing on the doorstep, utterly awkward and obviously feeling quite out of place.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind me coming. I know I wasn’t there Friday but I don’t really do large crowds and drinking.”

You walk over to her amidst the chorus of “not to worry”s and “lovely to see you”s, “Fancy something to drink now? Got plenty of soft options and I think I’ll stick alongside you as I’ve got to make sure I don’t burn stuff.”

“Including yourself, this time,” Harper retorts quickly with a small smile and a raise of her eyebrows.

“Hah, chance’d be a fine thing,” Andy laughs, slapping your shoulder before turning back to clink bottles and talk with Kiri and Marcus.

✪✪✪✪✪

Through the full length doors of Marcus’ balcony, evening spring sunshine streams through, bathing the group of your co-workers in a gentle, diffused light that flows around the room coating you in a golden glow. You all eat your fill and then some, with full tummies and tired eyes - the kitchen still full of half eaten dishes.

“Can we make this a weekly thing?” Kiritopa asks through a mouthful of food, hopefully.

“Not unless we take it in turns or get a take away - I don’t have the physical or emotional energy to make this level of curry every weekend,” you pointedly remark, looking up from your coke to meet Marcus’ eyes.

You’ve spent the evening barely speaking to each other for fear of alerting the others but surreptitiously brushing past so that you can sneak touches. Tender hidden strokes that feel like the kindest stitches on hidden, gaping wounds.

Marcus stands up to help usher the evening to an end and get you to himself again, “I have some boxes for y’all to take food home as otherwise, I’ll be eating this for weeks - delicious as it is.”

Everyone thankfully takes their boss’ hint and head into the kitchen to grab platefuls to reheat after long days. Slowly saying their goodbyes, your friends drift off in the direction of their homes as you throw yourself in an exhausted heap of bones on his sofa. Two strong hands grip you under your arms, to drape your torso across his lap.

“Hey tired girl,” you slightly open your eyes to spy a smiling Marcus gazing down at you. His fingers draw lazy patterns over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“I’d like to take you on a proper date this week. Wanna do this properly. Make a bit of a fuss.”

“Yeah? Not just pin me down and ravish me on the kitchen floor?” you grin widely at him.

“Well, I’d hardly call that a ravishing…” your eyes widen, eyebrows raising at Marcus’ comment, excitement pooling in your tummy, “Yeah, I saw there’s an Argentinian restaurant in Blackheath so how about steak, Malbec and homemade ice cream before I bring you back to either yours, or mine, for another, even better ravishing?”

“That sounds amazing, although with the amount of food in my belly, I may never have to eat again,” you give your stomach a rub, “But the ravishing…”

Hauling you up to sitting across his lap, you protest loudly, “I am going to crush your legs.”

“Stop making ridiculous comments and c’mere,” Marcus demands as he gently turns your head towards him, stealing a delicate kiss from you.

“I...should… - argh! Stop kissing me for a second,” you beg halfheartedly, “I should go home.”

“Stay.”

“Please stay,” Marcus desperately entreats you, “I’m not expecting anything but I’d love it if you stayed. I know you’ve got nothing here but give me two minutes and I can have a spare toothbrush for you. I’ll drop you home early tomorrow morning so you can grab some clothes and then we can go into work together?”

It feels as though the wind is knocked out of your lungs with the depth of Marcus’ need to be around you.

How does he do it?

“There’s no games with you, are there?” you twist in Marcus’ lap so that you now straddle his thighs, placing your hands on either side of his ridiculously handsome face.

“No,” he shakes head slowly, all the while holding eye contact with you, “I’m too old and I know what I want.”

“What’s that?”

Stroking his hands up and down your sides as he nuzzles your neck, he clearly and confidently declares,

“You.”

Tag list of glory (as ever, please ask to be put on or dropped from the list): @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito-deactivated20210 @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

[sergeantsporks]

Another Shot at Life

Rating: General Audiences, Gen

TW: Child abuse, emotional manipulation

Ao3

Hunter accidentally makes his way into the human realm and can't get back home. But he's discovering that might not be such a bad thing.

Ch 4/7: Welcome to the Family

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3

A knock sounded on the door, and Hunter looked up from his sketch—not of the door, this time of the view out of the window. Camila had gone out for groceries, leaving him and Vee at home. He was glad about that—he’d fallen asleep leaning against her last night, and now it was just embarrassing to be around her.

“I got it!” Vee called, leaping down the stairs. She opened the door, then immediately slammed it shut, tearing into the living room. “Where’s the phone?!” she yelped.

“What?”

“I need to call Camila—it’s Jacob, he’s here, what is he doing here?!” she wailed.

Hunter marched over to the door and flung it open. “Go away,” he snarled.

“That—that thing is a demon! It may look like a human, but—”

Hunter pushed Jacob back further and stepped outside himself, closing the door behind him. “I don’t care.”

“Well, I do! I saw the staff you had—that was a real magic staff, wasn’t it? And the bird? What are you?”

“I said to go away. You scare Vee. And you kinda creep me out, too. Vee is getting Camila right now, so I suggest you leave before she calls the police.”

“I know she’s not here, I saw her leave, that woman can’t protect you. I am going to get that demon, and if I have to hurt you to get it—”

Hunter punched him in the face. Jacob staggered back with a yell, and Hunter lunged at him, kneeing him in the gut and pushing him backwards to the street. He grabbed a fistful of Jacob’s shirt as he fell, bringing him right up to his face.

“I said to go away,” he hissed, “If I see you around here again, you will wish that you only had to deal with law enforcement, got it?”

“B-but—”

Hunter held out his hand, and Red fluttered to him, turning into a staff. The tip cackled with red electricity, and Hunter held it close to Jacob’s face. “I said, got it?”

“G-Got it!”

Hunter dropped him, and Red returned to its usual form. “Good! Now get your slimy face out of here, okay, okay. Bu-bye!”

Jacob scrambled away, and Hunter returned to the house, shaking his hand. Ow, punching people hurt a lot more without gloves on.

He opened the door, and Vee crowed. “That was awesome! Wait until I tell Camila—she beat him up with her flip flop, you know, you’d think he’d learn to leave us alone. Is your hand okay?”

“Better than his face.”

Camila’s car pulled up into the driveway, and Vee raced towards it. “Camila! Jacob showed up, and Hunter beat him up, it was great!”

“Jacob—oooo I am going to call the cops on him!” Camila gave Hunter a grin. “We can compare notes. I’ll even let you borrow one of my chanclas in case he shows up again.”

Hunter flushed, opening the trunk of her car. “I’mgoingtotaketheseinforyounowokaybye.” He grabbed a handful of bags, marching back towards the house.

“Hey. Hunter.”

He froze in place. “Yyyyyessss?”

“Really—thanks for taking care of Jacob. It means a lot.”

Hunter’s ears burned, and he nodded, lugging the bags inside and setting them on the kitchen counter. Camila brought the rest in, and he went back outside, trudging up the path to the old house where he’d come out of the portal. Red fluttered to his shoulder, and he gestured to the house. “You have any… I don’t know, weird magic palisman feelings?

His palisman shook its head, and he sighed, sitting down on the steps. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He flopped back on the old porch. “I’m never going to get back home, am I?”

Red hesitantly chirped, and a jolt went down Hunter’s spine. “Stay here?! I mean—I like Camila and Vee a lot, don’t get me wrong, but I have responsibilities, duties, I—I swore an oath to the coven, and, I mean, I can’t just abandon Uncle Belos!” He ran a hand through his hair. “But if—when—I go back, will I have to tell him about Vee? I don’t… I don’t want her to get hurt. But I can’t just not tell him, right?”

Stay here. What would he even do? Chase off Jacob and carry in groceries until they managed to get some kind of ID for him? Watch shows with Vee? Get more hugs from Camila? Live with people who said thank you, and I’m sorry, and you don’t deserve to get hurt?

But what about his ears, there was no explaining those, he’d never fit in here!

But then Vee was jogging up the path, tugging on his hand and telling him that Camila had bought ice cream, and they were going to make sundaes, and that he should trust her, he would love them.

And weirdly, enough, he did trust her. And he let himself get pulled away from the creepy old house that would bring him back to Belos, and get pulled towards the Noceda house, where Camila was.

“—and anyway, I really like Amethyst, because she reminds me a lot of myself, but who’s your favorite character?”

Hunter blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“Favorite character? In Stephen Universe?”

Hunter rubbed the back of his head. “I—I don’t know, I never really thought about it. I like… all of them, I guess?” He shuffled into the kitchen, where Camila was singing along to some music, chopping up peppers. “Camila?”

She paused the music. “Mhm?”

“Uhh. So. When do you want me to go?”

“Go… where?”

Hunter shrugged. “I mean—I can’t stay here forever, right? You were offering me a place as a guest, but I can’t just keep taking up space and eating your food, so… when do you need me to go by? I’m trying to figure out the portal, I promise, and then I’ll be out, but if I need to move beforehand, I can—”

Camila put her hands on his shoulders, looking him in the eye. “When you figure out that portal. Will you be going back to Belos?”

“Y-yes, of course.”

Camila sighed. “Ayiyi. Madre de Dios protect you. Hunter, you can stay as long as you need. And if you can’t get the portal working—or if you do, and you decide that you don’t want to go back to Belos—we’ll figure it out.” She bopped his nose. “But I want you to stop thinking of yourself as taking up space and eating all my food, kay? It’s been wonderful having you here. And Red, too, of course.”

“But I… I don’t do anything to help.”

“You don’t need to, amorcito. You’re just a kid. You should be worried about—about school, and making friends. Not about where you’re going to sleep and how you’re going to get food.”

“But—”

“If I need help with anything, I’ll let you know, okay?”

Hunter subsided, not entirely convinced. “Okay.”

She went back to cutting peppers. “Good. So. You punched Jacob, huh?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Hunter’s mouth. “Yeah. In the face. And I maybe threatened him a little bit.”

“Good. He locked Vee up once. Thank you for protecting her.”

Hunter’s ears burned, and he looked down at the peppers she was cutting. “What are you making?”

“Stir fry. Want me to teach you?”

Hunter shuffled closer with a tiny nod. He knew how to scavenge for food, of course, and could cook campfire meals pretty well, but the kind of cooking Camila did—he’d never had anything like it back at the coven.

Camila held out her knife, hilt first. “Okay, first, cut the rest of those peppers into strips, see how I did?”

The knife felt awkward and clumsy in his hand. A knife just for cooking. Not stabbing enemies—in fact, this knife would probably be pretty bad at stabbing enemies. Hunter sliced along the pepper, cutting it cleanly into strips. Camila peeled an onion, and handed it to him.

“Okay, chop off the ends, then cut it in half.”

The onion was harder than the pepper—it was round, and kept rolling under the knife. Hunter grabbed it with one hand. “Stay still!” He slammed the knife down onto the onion.

“Hunter—”

The slipped off of the surface of the onion, and he couldn’t stop his momentum. The sharp blade sank into his hand, and he yelped, yanking his hand away. Tears sprang to his eyes, and Camila reached for his hand with a hiss. “Oh, ow, let me see—”

He barely heard her, clutching his injured hand to his chest.

Clumsy.

Stupid.

Useless.

Xxx

Camila watched Hunter go completely stock still, just like he had the night before when he’d punched her on accident. His hand dripped with blood.

“Hey—Hunter—”

“I apologize,” he said in a small, matter-of-fact voice, “I’ll clean up the mess.”

“Hey—heyyyyy.” Camila held her hands up, approaching him slowly. “Shshshshshsh… it’s okay… it’s okay. You’re okay.” She reached out and gently took his injured hand. “Let me see.”

He still didn’t move, but he let her pull his hand away. She examined the cut. “Okay. This doesn’t look deep. You don’t need stitches or anything, just some bandages. Just an accident—happens  a lot in cooking, it’s okay. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

She tugged him towards the bathroom. He followed her, but his movement was limited, restrained. A mix of anger and worry swept over Camila. There was a reason behind why he acted like this, and she was pretty sure she knew who to blame.

Could she really let him go back, on the off chance he got the portal working?

She’d helped with rescue animals before—and they acted a lot like Hunter. Cringing away from contact, fretting—she couldn’t even start to unravel his usefulness complex, but she knew when a creature was hurting.

Vee followed them into the bathroom, her eyes wide. “Is he okay?”

His gaze snapped to her, and a different kind of panic seemed to set in on his face. “I’m okay! I’m fine, really!”

He was talking again. Somehow, it wasn’t comforting.

Camila dabbed gently at the cut with a cotton ball soaked in cleaning alcohol. “Shshshshsh,” she said gently when Hunter yelped, his hand tensing. “It’s okay. I know it hurts, okay, I know. I’m sorry, I don’t want it to get infected.” She wrapped his hand up, and nodded to Vee. “Hey, why don’t you take him outside? He looks like he could use some fresh air.”

Vee grabbed his non-injured hand. “Come on! Don’t pass out on me, Hunter.”

Hunter stuck his tongue out at her. “It’s just a little cut, I’m fine,” he insisted, following her outside.

Camila went back to the kitchen, trying to put the pieces together in her mind. He acted one way around her, another way around Vee. Camila tried to think back on other instances—when Vee had complimented him on taking down Jacob, he had taken it in stride. When she had complimented him, he’d gotten flustered. Based on what Vee had told her about the day before, he’d pulled Vee into the rain, had splashed in puddles. With her, he’d been terrified, and had barely moved.

He’d said Luz had been nice to him—and Camila felt a little glimmer of pride at that. Okay. So, Vee, looked like Luz. Hunter associated Vee as an equal, maybe even a friend. Camila was an authority figure. Owner of the house, the boss.

Camila did not like it.

She’d known what Belos had done to Vee, of course. But Hunter was one of his own, Hunter was one of his guards. She poked her head outside to see Hunter on the roof, trying to coach Vee through getting up.

“It’s not that hard—climb up onto the trashcan—”

“Hunter! What are you doing up there?!”

He jumped, and guiltily climbed down, landing with a little oof. “Sorry.”

“Can you come in for a minute, please?”

He shuffled inside, and Camila rolled a hand. “Relax. You’re not in trouble. But, uh—please don’t climb on the roof, it’s not safe.”

“Parkour was part of my training, and I have excellent balance. I won’t fall.”

“Ayiyi. Okay. Please don’t encourage Vee to get up there, though.” Camila took in a deep breath. “I just wanted to ask—you said you threatened Luz. Will you tell me what happened?”

There it was. He froze again, as if limited movement would make him harder to see. “She had something I needed. So I…”

“Hey. You’re not in trouble,” Camila repeated, “I promise. What did you need?”

“Palisman. And—well, I guess I could have killed the Selkidomus by myself, but she was there, and I had the rat thing, and…”

“Why did you need that?”

“Well—Uncle Belos needed them.”

Uncle Belos. Camila racked her memory, trying to remember if Hunter had ever referred to him that way before—but she only ever remembered ‘emperor’ before his name.

Hunter was watching her expectantly, and she shrugged. “That was all, thank you.”

He exited the house as quickly as politely possible, and Camila sighed, removing her glasses and rubbing the bridge of her nose. Okay. So, what did she have? Belos had forged some kind of familial bond with Hunter. He sent him out on errands, errands where he’d run into Luz. Belos punished his nephew when he did something ‘wrong.’ He told Hunter that it was his fault, that he’d set off some curse. If Hunter thought he was in trouble, he froze—making himself a smaller target, or just trying to not make the situation worse?

Either way, Camila’s blood boiled at the thought. No wonder he was so scared of her getting mad—he thought she would hurt him. And no wonder he’d threatened Luz—she wasn’t happy about that, but when she thought about what probably waited for him if he failed, she couldn’t blame him for going to any lengths to complete Belos’ tasks.

Vee wandered into the house, planting herself in front of Camila. “Camila? I was thinking. Hunter probably shouldn’t keep sleeping on the couch. I know we’re waiting for Luz to come home, and when she does, we can figure it out, but I was thinking, she has a bunk bed, and I’m only using half of it, so maybe we could share the room? I know it’s Luz’s room, but I just kind of feel bad that he’s sleeping on the couch when there’s an extra bed right there.”

Camila gave Vee a smile. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, mija. Question—do you think he’s any closer to figuring out how to get back?”

Vee shook her head. “No. He was up at the old house, earlier, but he was just sort of sitting there.”

Good, Camila thought, with a little nod.

Vee darted outside, and dragged Hunter back in, gathering up his armor and uniform in her arms.

“Hey! Be careful with that!”

Vee shook her armful of clothing at him. “I’m pretty sure it’s designed to be tough, right?” She deposited the stuff in his arms, grabbing some hangers. “Come on.”

Camila followed the two of them upstairs. Vee hung Hunter’s uniform up in the closet, and gestured to the bunk. “I’ve already got the top bunk, Mr. Parkour.” She cleared Luz’s stuffed animals off of the bottom bed, lining them up on the desk. “Also, we can hang blankets around the bottom bunk so that it makes a dark little cave—in case you want to sleep in.”

Red flew around the room, singing, and eventually perching on Hunter’s shoulder. Camila pulled out her phone. “Okay, new roommates picture!”

Vee slung one arm around Hunter’s shoulders, pulling him down next to her and grinning. Camila snapped a picture, then laughed at the bewildered look on Hunter’s face. “Hunter, smile!” She snapped another picture, then lowered the phone. “Hey, mijo, is everything okay?”

His face was scrunched up, and he swiped at his eyes. “Why are you so nice?” he demanded, “I’ve—I haven’t done anything to deserve it, I attacked your daughter, and I—”

“You beat up Jacob because he scared me,” Vee offered, “You let Red help me when I was scared.”

Camila put one hand on his scarred cheek. “Hey—hey, Hunter, look at me, mijo.”

He did, his eyes watery.

“Everyone deserves a little kindness. You’ve made mistakes. So what? I’m not perfect, either. But I’m trying to be the best I can. And you deserve that chance, too.”

His shoulders started to shake, and Camila wrapped him up in a hug. “Okay. Come here. Ooookay.”

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” he mumbled, “I don’t know what I want to do—I used to have my future figured out, but now-!”

“I didn’t even have a future until I ran away,” Vee offered quietly, “It’s scary, I know. But it’s better than being under someone else’s control.”

“We’ll help you figure it out,” Camila soothed, “If you can’t go back—or if you don’t want to—we’ll help you.”

Hunter pulled back, scrubbing at his eyes. “I—I’d like that.” He gave Camila a watery smile as Red landed on her shoulder, tweeting happily. “I’d like that a lot.”

Ch 5

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar Of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby

Day 11: Where The Fuck Is The Top? 

Warnings: Bad Language Words, some Naughty Times. 

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: Alright, so this instance has happened to me. I loathe tupperware because I can never ever find the damn cover and half the time I saran wrap that bitch. As always stayed tuned for what @what-is-your-plan-today​ and @jennmurawski13​ have up there sleeves for this Man Child. 

Series Masterlist

Ransom groaned while stretching, your feet in his lap and your head propped up on the other end of the couch, his hand dropping to your ankle and giving it a good rub which made you mimic his groan from before, rolling your foot a bit while his fingers worked there magic over the arch of your foot. “Right there Ransom, feels so damn good.” 

He smirked hearing you while his eyes were still glued to the America’s Worst Cooks episode you two were watching. “Same thing you said to me the other night Y/N.” 

“I did, but this might be even better than that Ransom.” You grinned down your body at him, while you switched feet so he would do the other one, which he shifted his attention to, making you give another satisfied groan. 

“Well you were mixing my name with God’s, I think that kinda beats everything doesn't it?” He slid a finger from your heel up to your toes that he wiggled the ends of. 

“Nah, I was just adding that for your benefit.” You said while turning back to the television, scrunching your nose at some of the stuff the contestant made. “Fuck these people are hopeless Ransom. We should sign you up, I bet you would kick all their asses.” 

He gave a slight squeeze to your heel, and worked his hand over the top of your foot, knowing how much you enjoyed it. “Hey, I think those tacos were not to bad tonight, I even manage to toast the shells without burning them.” You grinned thinking back on how carefully he diced the lettuce, tomatoes, and onions, bitching the whole time he was dicing the onion cause of the tears streaming down his face. You let him also open the salsa jar while you carefully monitored the stuff on the stove top. 

You to had an eye on the shells and subtly reminded him to check them when you noticed they were starting to toast up. 

“Baby, those fucking tacos were the best, Spawn Baby was extremely pleased with it.” You rubbed your belly and shifted to move up to a sit, dropping your feet from his lap. “So I will go clean up, since you spoiled me.” 

“Nah, I got it Baby. You just stay right there.” He pushed up, and leaned over to grasp your chin lightly, placing a deep loving kiss on your lips. You inhaled deeply as he pulled away, your eyes shining a bit brighter than before. Inwards, Ransom cheered as he knew that look well. With all he had been doing today, and actually not making a disaster of it, you were getting turned on, and frankly he was ready for it.  

“Uh when you come back, maybe I will make you cry out my name.” You wink at him, biting your lip playfully and he smirked at you while giving a nipping kiss on your lips before moving away. 

“Mmh Princess, sounds like a deal. Be right back.” Ransom winked at you, then made his way to the kitchen, whistling happily while flicking on the light to show the disaster of the kitchen. He might have made decent tacos, but hell if he knew how to clean up after himself. 

Strewn across the counters were bowls of chopped veggies, tops to sour cream and salsa, some shredded cheese fell across the counter, taco shells and wraps half scattered from where you two had flung them at each other across the counter joking about what the best taco toppings were. You stood behind your salsa and sour cream combo, and Ransom swore that the more cheese the better, what the hell was sour cream good for? 

Deciding to put the chopped veggies and meat away, he went into the tupperware cupboard. They were stacked so neatly that he easily chose a few different sizes. Then he started sorting through the tops, trying to find some to fit the bottoms, and not a one would click on. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” He growled under his breath, flinging the tops that didn't fit over his shoulder in aggravation across the kitchen to skid across the tile floor. 

He just kept pulling them out and no matter which he tried, even forcefully trying to make them fit, they just wouldn’t snap and finally the kitchen floor was scattered with tupperware tops and a few bottoms he also flung when he had gotten frustrated. 

“Fuck the tupperwear, wheres the saran wrap?” He asked himself and searched the rest of the cupboards till he found what he was looking for. Unwrapping the saran wrap, it kept folding on him and wrapping around his hand, which he shook his hand hard to dislodge from, getting more agitated and hostile until it dislodged from his hands. Now the kitchen looked like a toddler had gone through it. “Fuck it.” 

He ended up just leaving everything in the dishes he had served it in, and just stuffed it in the refrigerator without anything covering them. Thoroughly distracted with your earlier offer, he didn't even think to pick up the scattering of tupperware dishes and lids, or the tangled saran wrap all over the kitchen floor. 

“Ready for bed?” He asked going back into the living room and you flicked the tv off and moved to a stand. 

“Kitchen is all picked up?” You asked while heading around the couch and Ransom steered you towards the stairs, obviously now just having your offer to get him off in mine. If you had any idea, damned if he would be getting lucky tonight. 

“Done, cleaned and sorted.” He pinched the curve of your ass playfully, making you jump and go up the stairs faster, him grinning devilishly while following you up towards your bedroom. 

You waited till he got to the bedroom and wrapped your hands in his soft tee shirt and pulled him to sit on the bed, smirking at him. “Well since you’ve stepped up Ransom, you deserve what was promised.” You move, somewhat awkwardly to your knees and work your hands on his pants. 

Fuck if Ransom has ever been more turned on watching his pregnant wife work to get her mouth on his cock. 

*********************

It was hours later, Ransom was passed out in bed, and you had woken up craving orange juice. Ransom's kid seemed to love the stuff, leaving you craving it all the time. So you made your way down to the kitchen which you accidentally kicked at one of the containers, making it skid across the floor before you had even turned on the light. 

“What the-?” confused as to what had went bouncing, you turned on the light to see the mess left behind. Your jaw dropped in shock at first, looking around and said out loud in disbelief. “I’m going to kill that fucking asshole.” You picked your way through it and sighed to yourself. “I’m not cleaning it, nope… this is on him. He can do it in the morning.” Your resolve set as you made your way to the fridge and opened it to find all the food had been shoved in without any covers. Leaving it smelling awful. “That motherfucking bastard. So god damn stupid.”  

 You snatched the orange juice and shut the door before you were assaulted with the smell any longer. Pouring yourself a big tall glass and drinking half of it before topping it off again. “I’m not his maid, or housekeeper.” You continued on, having debated if you should clean up the mess Ransom had left behind. But it wasn’t your job, you continued telling yourself as you made your way back through, and right back up the stairs to bed you went. 

Ransom groaned and rolled around to spoon up behind you as you settled back in, nuzzling the back of your neck and muttered “Where did you go?” 

You looked over your shoulder at your sleeping husband, knowing he wasn’t really listening. “You fucking left the kitchen a disaster Ransom.” 

He smirked as his arm tightened around you. “I did a damn good job didn’t I?” so smug with himself, even in his sleep. 

You snorted as you tugged the blankets over yourself. “Yea, a real regular professional man child I have. I can’t wait to have two of you.” In which you then tucked your cold feet against him and made him yelp. 

“Fucking hell Y/N, you know I hate that.” 

You wriggled further in bed. “Make sure you put away the tupperware on the floor and scrub the fridge before I get up in the morning Ransom. I can’t believe you did that. What the fuck were you thinking?” 

“I couldn’t find a god damn lid that fit.” Ransom slid his hand along your hip and shifted back in close to your back, hoping he could warm up your sudden cold demeanor. You retaliate by reaching to smack his hand he had the nerve to touch you with. 

“Don’t you dare think your going to fuck your way out of this one. Don’t touch me for the rest of the night Ransom.” You snapped out, leaving him cursing mentally at how his luck had so swiftly turned. 

[moccahobi]

Reeled In [Seokjin x Reader x Yoongi]

Sumemery: You are cooking dinner for your boyfriends after their first (and last) fishing trip of the season.

Word Count: 1.7k

Pairing: Seokjin (BTS) x Reader x Yoongi (BTS)

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: risky fishing... don’t go fishing in a storm

Ratings: teen up

Rain poured down angrily on them, stealing all of their warmth and leaving the boat’s floor a slippery danger. Seokjin and Yoongi didn’t seem to care though. Their eyes trained on the ends of their lines in the water and their hands tightly clasping their rods. Determination caked their face and protected them from the many attacks of the rain. The fisher who took them out standing tiredly in the captain’s deck, white knuckling the wheel in an attempt to keep the boat under control. Today was their first time fishing all season and they wanted to get the best of it. Plus, it just so happened to be the end of the fishing season.

Soon it’d be too cold for fishers and the fish would bite way less than normal. 

Yoongi and Seokjin were determined to at least catch one fish.

Of course, when you’d read the weather forecast, you got upset that they had decided to still go out and fish. They were their own people though and fishing during a storm was quite the adrenaline rush.

Even if none of the fish were biting. 

A particularly rough gust of wind nearly knocked Seokjin over, his broad shoulders practically acting as a sail to catch the wind. As he righted himself again, he felt a slight tug on the line. If he wasn’t so experienced with fishing by now, he might have missed it, but he caught it and suddenly his eyes became trained on the water. It was such a small movement but Seokjin noticed the movement of a dark red fish in the water. 

This was his chance. 

Yoongi was on the other side of the boat, carefully eyeing the water as he waited for something to bite his line. 

-

“Wahhhhh.” You cooed, looking at the large fish Seokjin and Yoongi brought back for dinner, “The storm was so rough! I am surprised that you were able to catch a fish this big!” 

Seokjin laughed, his ears turning the sweet shade of cherry blossom petals. Yoongi shrugged, feigning nonchalance even though you knew that he was probably giddy about the compliment.  There wasn’t much time to take in their tired yet happy forms though as all three of you were keenly aware of their sopping wet clothes dripping onto the floor. Quickly, the two scurried off to the bedroom to change and possibly shower before dinner. In turn, you scurried off to the kitchen with the fish to start working on dinner. 

Looking down at the large silver fish sitting on the chopping board, you knew that there wasn’t a chance they had caught such a fish. You weren’t too into fishing but this was a salmon and salmon didn’t live off of the coast they went fishing in. You didn’t mind keeping up the act that they actually did somehow manage to catch salmon off of the coast of Deju though. They would tell you if they really wanted to. With the skill of a beginner chef, you began hacking away at the fish, quickly removing its tail and head before somehow splitting it in half. It was your night to cook and you were by far the worst chef of the three of you. It was a simple meal… but you forgot that you had to cut the fish into fillets first.

“Y/n-ah, I love you. But do you want me to cut the fish up? You can work on the other parts of dinner.” Seokjin offered as he entered the kitchen and watched you butcher the poor fish.

A laugh left you, “While normally, I would take you up on that offer, Seokjin-ah, I really want to learn how to properly prepare a fish. I won’t ever learn if you do it for me all the time. Thank you for the offer. If you do want to help with something, you can set the table.”

“If he does that, then I am happy to clean up after dinner!” Yoongi yelled from wherever he was in the apartment.

“That sounds like a plan to me. I look forward to dinner, Y/n-ah.” Seokjin said, walking over and giving you a kiss on the cheek before grabbing dishes and starting to set the table. From the kitchen, over the sound of the vegetables you’d bought searing in the pan, you could hear Seokjin softly sing a song. It vaguely reminded you of one of the latest hip hop songs they two had been listening to on repeat. There was something different about it though. The tune Seokjin was singing felt softer and for a second, you simply stood there and listened to the melodic voice of one of your amazing boyfriends. 

In college, the two of them produced some music together, but as Yoongi continued on to grad school and Seokjin started working in a restaurant, the time they had to make music decreased to null. Seokjin said that he didn’t mind since his time was replaced with just as fun things but you knew that deep down, they really missed making music. You had tried contacting some of the others who Yoongi and Seokjin worked with in college but all of them were too busy as of right now. The smell of something charred brought you out of your thoughts, quickly looking down, you noticed that the onion had started to burn around the edges. 

Shit.

You would definitely get crap for accidentally burning onions. 

A deflated sigh left you as you spooned the vegetables onto a serving platter. There was no use in cooking them more and risked the onions burning even further. As quickly as possible, you set the sloppily done salmon filets onto the pan, quickly searing them. Thankfully, neither Yoongi or Seokjin joked about how poorly you cooked tonight, likely because they were tired from fishing all day and you were relieved. Despite their experience, you’d been stressing all day about their safety and having them home with you, looking fairly injury free, made you so relieved. It wasn’t until after dinner as you and Seokjin migrated to the couch to cuddle and Yoongi cleaned up that you realized just how tired you were.

“Did you have a hard day at work, pumpkin?” Seokjin asked as he gently rubbed your hair after your third yawn that night.

“Not really. My boss let me out early too.” 

“Is it just one of those low energy days then?” Yoongi asked, plopping on the cough and nuzzling his face against your hip where he was resting.

You shrugged, “I was worried about you two, dip shits.” You joked playfully, winking a Yoongi, “I know you two are smart but the storm just seemed to keep getting worse and I was worried.”

Seokjin’s fingers stilled in your hair and Yoongi looked down with a solemn nod, “We had meant to message you and keep you updated but it was hard to do in the rain.” 

“I get it. Really. Please don’t stress. There’s a risk to everything.” You gently squeezed Seokjin’s arm that came to wrap around you, “It just made me a tad tired.”

“I’m sorry we worried you. I was so excited about finally getting out to fish… I think I got a bit carried away.” Yoongi mumbled, still not looking back up at you.

“Yeah… maybe in the future, we try to make more of an attempt to get out fishing before we have to do a trip like this.” 

“I like the idea of that.”

“Seokjin, Yoongi… you two really don’t have to do that.” 

“I mean… we did get an ear full from captain, pumpkin.”

Yoongi snorted at that, “We got more than an earful. Dude banned us from his ship ever again.” 

“What?! Why?” You sat up in shock, much to the complaint of a whining Seokjin.

“Well… Yoongi almost fell off at one point… and it was just a lot of work for the poor guy.” Yoongi started, a light red now dusting his cheeks.

“Gosh. You all wanted to fish so badly?”

“Looking back,” Yoongi started, worriedly scratching his neck, “I probably could have waited.”

“Me too… which is why I said that it might be good to try to set up trips sooner instead of procrastinating.”

“And we didn’t even get any fish.” Yoongi mumbled out.

“Yeah!” Seokjin sat up and shouted, a playful glint in his eyes, “I thought we said we weren’t going to tell!”

“I’m sorry. It just came out.” Yoongi whined, gently patting one of Seokjin’s hands with sweet eyes.

At that you laughed and gently shook your head, “I don’t think you can get salmon off the coast of Deju… but good try!” 

Seokjin gasped indignantly, “You knew this whole time!?” 

“Jaji… I am not good at cooking but I listen to what you all talk about when you are excited about cooking or fishing. I know salmon isn’t often found off of the Deju coast.” 

“Thank you for acting like we did catch it then.” Yoongi said with a laugh, taking the time to pull you onto his lap and kiss your forehead gently.

“No fair! I was snuggling with her first!” 

“Too bad.” 

You laughed, squirming and trying to grab Seokjin as the two continued to bicker. It was comical how as soon as Seokjin was in your arms, he immediately stopped bickering, a happy look plastered on his face before he stuck his tongue at Yoongi. Another laugh left you as you squirmed in Yoongi’s grasp, Yoongi taking to tickiling your sides in retaliation. Shocks of pain jolted through you as you squirmed to get out of Yoongi’s hold, the meniac man laughing as you giggled in pain. Before long, you found yourself on the floor, Yoongi and Seokjin holding onto each other for support while laughing.

You looked up pouting, “No fair! I was just trying to get comfortable!” 

“Sure!” Yoongi laughed, reaching up to wipe tears from his eyes, “And we actually caught a salmon today.”

“Yeah! Stop rubbing that in!” Seokjin wined, his ears a bright red.

“I didn’t catch anything either pabo!” 

A laugh took you as you looked up at your two handsome boyfriends, holding each other close and bickering away. This was the life. You sighed happily and clambered onto the couch and onto their laps. 

“I love you both.”

“I’m glad because if not we’d have an issue.” Seokjin laughed, gently kissing you on the forehead, “I love you too.”

“Yeah… I love you both too… I guess.” 

[breelandwalker]

Do you know spells for justice or protection for other people? Like the protesters?

I know a few, but it’s difficult to pick one exactly. Here’s everything I could find in my personal spellbook that I thought might be applicable.

Ninja Dust

Intent: To enable a person to make a quick unseen exit or go unnoticed; formulated to work in crowded places.

Ingredients:

1 pt White Oak

1 pt Bloodroot

1 pt Black Salt

1 pt Red Poppy

1 pt Mustard

1/2 pt Rosemary

1/2 pt Sage

1/2 pt Clove

1/2 pt Willow Bark

Optional:

Pinch of Galangal Root

Pinch of Heather Blossom

Pinch of Devil's Shoestring

Pinch of Black Cohosh

This powder was prepared for a friend of mine the night before she attended a large-scale protest march. It's meant to help you stay safe in a crowded situations and affect a quick exit when and if you have to.

Sprinkle a pinch or two on your shoes before you go out, or carry a small vial or packet with you. If you find yourself in a situation where you need to leave quickly, toss down the powder and step on it as you leave.

Of course, this should always go along with whatever practical safety measures are deemed prudent for your situation. If you find yourself in a position where you are in immediate physical danger, forget the powder, just get to safety however you can. Be careful out there!

Liza Hempstock’s Invisibility Charm

Inspired by The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman.

Use this charm when you want to pass unseen and unremarked in a crowd or need to escape a situation without being noticed.

Put a pinch of poppy seeds in your shoe or carry a packet of them in your pocket. When you need to make a quick exit, turn three times, spit over your left shoulder, and whisper:

Be hole, be dust, be dream, be wind Be night, be dark, be wish, be mind, Now slip, now slide, now move unseen, Above, beneath, betwixt, between

Gather yourself together, find your exit, and GO.

No Fear Here

To help dispel fear, ward off danger, and promote bravery. This blend is meant for a home ornament witchball, but it can also be put into a sachet or a bottle charm if mobile magic is needed.

Agrimony

Yarrow

Black Pepper

Thyme

Jasmine

Black Tea Leaves

Walking Ward Protection Oil

For personal warding spells of all kinds

Sweet Basil

Witch Hazel

Fennel Sprigs

Mix the herbs in equal parts and soak 1 tbsp of the blend in 1-2 cups of bland oil for about a week to make the infusion. Strain and bottle the oil. If desired, add a couple of drops of Basil or Rosemary essential oil.

Short Notice Travel Protection Charm

If you're called to make an unexpected trip and don't have time to prepare a full-sized bottle charm, making a braid or knot-string out of white yarn or string. As you tie it, say seven times over:

By water and fire, by sky and by stone, This charm will see me brought safely back home.

Tie the string around your wrist or ankle for the duration of the trip. You can remove it when you return home or let it fall off on its' own.

"Bibbity Bobbity Back Off" Banishing Spell

This spell grew out of a quip that I made in response to some hate mail that came my way. Some weeks of experimenting with word-activated protection magics later, this is what I came up with.

Intent: To repel or banish harmful things that attempt to accost you.

Materials:

Piece of Personal Jewelry

Small Jar with Flat Lid

Tealight Candle

Herbs: Angelica Root, Peppermint, Marjoram, Willow Bark

Make a potpourri blend out of the herbs and place it in the jar. For extra potency, spit in the jar. Place the piece of jewelry in the jar, close the lid, and shake gently. Set the jar somewhere level and safe, set the tealight on top of the lid, and burn it for a few minutes.

Focus on the flame of the tealight and chant, as many times as you feel you need to:

I cannot be snared, I cannot be caught However you try, no harm is wrought

When you've finished, blow out the candle. Wait for the candle cup and the lid to cool before opening the jar. Retrieve the jewelry and wear it when you need a little extra protection.

Should you need to activate the protection, simply breathe on your fingers, touch the charmed object, and whisper, "Invictus." (Latin, pron. in-VIK-toos; “invincible.”) The charm will last until you remove the piece and breathe on it again. You'll need to return it to the jar of herbs to recharge within 24 hours of use, or you'll have to cast the charm all over again. For best results, I recommend changing the herbs in the jar between charges.

This is a short-term heavy-duty banishing spell. It can't ensure physical safety, but it can help keep you safe from emotional and mental attack, and may provide an opportunity for escape if one is needed. It may also diffuse aggressive outside energy long enough for you to make a prudently-timed getaway if a confrontation seems imminent.

"Not On My Watch" Vinegar

 Intent: An all-purpose preventative potion for use in protective and binding spells.

 Ingredients:

Jar with Tight-fitting Lid

2 cups Vinegar

Coffee Filter

Funnel

Bottle for Storage

Knife and Cutting Board

Fresh Ginger or Horseradish Root

Peppermint Essential Oil

Herbs: Bay Leaves, Coriander, Lemon Peel, Cedar Tips, Pine Needles, Witch Hazel, Clover Leaves

This is a heavy-duty protective vinegar that I created in a fit of rage. If the ingredient list seems excessive, it's because I was angry enough about the situation to basically throw the book at it. I've used it a few times since then and it's been very effective.

To make this potion, you'll need a jar with a tight-fitting lid. A large brand-new mason jar is best for this. For some other spells and potions, you can use recycled food jars, but for this one, you want a fresh jar with no chance of leftover food particles.

First, clean your piece of ginger or horseradish root. For best results, you'll want a fresh root, not dried pieces, as you want the juice and oils to blend with the vinegar. Cut several slices from the root and place them in the mason jar. Wash and dry the knife before continuing.

Note: Fresh horseradish root has a very strong peppery-sour smell, and can produce fumes like onions do. The fumes may cause your nose to run and may irritate your eyes. (It's a great way to clear the sinuses though.) If you are sensitive to such things, you may want to wear a surgical mask and goggles, or just use ginger root instead.

To help your herbs fit more easily into the jar, you may want to carefully dice them into smaller, more manageable pieces. You can work with fresh or dried herbs for this potion, whichever works best with your available supplies. If you want additional aromatic qualities in your potion, I recommend using fresh Lemon Peel, Cedar Tips, and Pine Needles if possible. It adds a nice fresh, clean scent, a little bit like a certain name-brand floor cleaner, but less chemical. Using fresh versions of these ingredients will also help to cut the vinegar smell to a certain degree. But again, if you only have dried herbs, that will work just as well.

Dried or fresh, you'll need approximately 2 ½ ounces of chopped herbs altogether. That's about five tablespoons or 71 grams of herbs. Mix them together and add them to the jar. If you've used fresh herbs, you'll need to dry or discard any leftovers. If you used only dried herbs, put any extra mix into a container for future use. Waste not, want not.

Add two cups of vinegar to the jar. I used white vinegar, but cider vinegar or wine vinegar will do as well. Use whatever you have available. White vinegar may be less expensive, if you need to purchase a fresh bottle. Add 2-3 drops of Peppermint essential oil, close the lid tightly, and give the jar a good shake.

Leave the vinegar jar in a warm, dry place to steep for three full days. Strain the resulting liquid into a clean bottle using a funnel and coffee filter, and discard the herbs. The mason jar can be used again after it has been thoroughly cleaned and dried.

Use the potion in home protection magics, particularly if you need to repel unsavory persons, "accidents" which are not at all accidental, or harmful magics. It can also be an additive in spells meant to make the home a sanctuary for those who need it. Add a small amount to your washwater when you clean hard floors or your doorstep for additional protection. Splash a little on your front door or at your property line to discourage trespassers.

(I’m sure this could be put to use for keeping yourself safe during protests, keeping cops away from your home, blessing marchers and venues, and so forth.)

I’ll try and search up my post with magical measures for justice as well.

Hope this helps!

[jeonjeonggukenergy]

Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, smut - college!au

wordcount ~ 8.5k

warnings ~ 18+ only! smut, explicit discussion of kinks/sexual preferences (yay healthy communication), dom/sub undertones during both discussion and sex (dom Jungkook, sub reader), mentions of daddy kink and degradation but both are a no, marking, biting, hair pulling, spanking, they both have a srs pain kink lmao, brief oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, creampie

a/n ~ SO excited to finally have this chapter out for yall! it’s a huge one and i’ve been working on it for quite a while, this includes the first full smut scene for this fic and i would love to know how yall like it or any other feedback. i really enjoyed writing the character development in this chapter too! they’re so cute and whipped for each other already hhhhhh. thank you so much for loving this story so far, i’m really looking forward to writing the rest. hope you enjoy! ❣️

previous: chapter 1 | chapter 2 ~ next: chapter 4 (coming soon!) 

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 3 ~ particular, perfect

You concluded your walk home by ditching your shoes at the door, swinging your bag off your shoulders to the floor, and plopping down onto the couch immediately. Pulling all three nearby blankets over yourself, you realized you still weren't quite comfortable. You looked around for a second, puzzled, until an absentminded clutch of your boobs reminded you why. Triumphantly, you reached into a sleeve to untangle your bra and chucked it across the room with a deep stretch of relief. Okay, time to overthink again.

Jungkook? What the fuck?

Wait. A bag of chips on the kitchen counter caught your eye before you could descend any further into panic. The perfect emotional crutch. You clutched it to your chest like a safeguard against your own internal monologue, anxiously shoving handful after handful into your mouth. After about thirty minutes spent motionless on the couch with one hand shoved in the chip bag and the other distractedly scrolling through Twitter, your eyes suddenly widened and your hand froze, dropping your next bite of chips back into the bag. Fuck. You had just eaten nearly an entire family-size bag of chips before what could end up being your first fuck in over a year. Well, maybe this was part of why you hadn't gotten fucked in over a year. No, don't go there. You shoved down your own insecurity, knowing you'd just been too busy for a relationship and honestly, probably still were. But that wasn't going to stop you today.

You shook the chip dust off of your hands and got up to head to the shower, turning up your trashiest throwback playlist of getting-ready bops and resolving to at least shave your legs. Going in with no expectations was probably the best strategy here, but it never hurt to be prepared.

~

Having cleaned his apartment in record time, Jungkook was now at the gym. After triple-checking that his roommate Jin would be in rehearsal until 10pm at the earliest, he quickly scanned all the common spaces and his bedroom and realized he didn't actually have that much work to do besides politely closing the door to Jin's still-decent-but-somewhat-messier room. To be honest, Jungkook had mainly bought himself the time after class so he could shave just in case. But then he figured if he had to shower, he might as well hit the gym first. So here he was, burning off an unprecedented amount of nervous energy. Settling comfortably into the leg curl machine, he turned his music up and started on a low weight to put in reps until his thighs burned and his head felt pleasantly empty.

After completing his normal leg day rotation and dutifully stretching, Jungkook prepared to head home. He walked out of the gym feeling more energized and centered, barely even flinching when he switched his AirPods off to say bye to the nice girl at the front desk and the action accidentally blasted "Whistle" by Flo Rida from his phone speaker for the whole lobby to hear. As he walked back into his apartment, the kitchen clock let him know it was only 4:30. He had plenty of time. Jungkook hopped straight into the shower, shampooing his hair, shaving everywhere he normally did, and savoring several extra moments to relax his muscles under the hot stream of water. Finally, he toweled off to wrap up in the black t-shirt and cozy matching sweatpants he'd carefully stacked on the counter. Offhandedly singing to himself in the steamy mirror, he checked the time on his phone, deciding he might as well go ahead and text you before he got nervous again and did something stupid. Like chickening out completely.

hey its jk! im ready when u are :) my apt is 344 glencoe rd #1521 (yes its on the 15th floor sry D: )

His charming old-school smileys lit up your phone while you still had a leg perched on the bathtub's edge.

"Fuck!" you reacted. The hiss resounded, thanks to the too-good acoustics of your cramped bathroom. Your razor clattering to the floor, you paused your max-volume 2000s music to check the message, and then the time. Only 5! That wasn't dinnertime yet. Plugging his address into Google Maps, though, you realized it was a 15- to 20-minute drive from yours on the opposite end of campus. Even if you got ready at light-speed, you would get there closer to 5:30. Which was a bit more reasonable. He was being reasonable! You should be ready by now!

You leaned over to pick up your razor and cursed again as the water stream grazed the blouse you'd left on out of laziness. You'd showered this morning, so there was no need to repeat that with your shave, but now you'd have to change outfits completely. Feeling like an idiot, naked from the waist down but now all the way wet, you peeled the shirt over your head slowly to preserve your good hair day and glanced down at the dilemma you'd been facing. The patch of hair between your legs stared back at you like the final boss of stupid societal beauty standards. You'd only shaved down there once, as an anniversary present for your first boyfriend the summer before college, and it had been a fun, smooth novelty for about two hours and then itchy, red, gross-looking, and miserable for about three weeks. Also, it had kind of made you feel like a little girl, which creeped you out when you thought about why guys would prefer it. You'd been debating whether to try it again for the past fifteen minutes, because if there was ever a right time, this was probably it. But now you didn't have time, if you were going to be respectful and not keep Jungkook waiting. Well, this was the real you. He could take it or leave it.

Slathering a quick coat of lotion over your freshly shaved legs, you prepared to get dressed in a soft pastel sweatshirt and a flattering pair of workout shorts. Wait, should you wear lingerie? Was that too try-hard? You didn't really even need to wear underwear with these lined shorts, which could be a cool-girl move, you supposed. You settled on a cute white sports bra to go with the shorts, not wanting to deal with a real bra and hoping it still appealed to Jungkook's casual, athletic style. You checked yourself in the mirror briefly before grabbing your bag, confirming you looked chill enough but still felt like your best color-coordinated self. Heading out, you shoved a tin of chrysanthemum green tea in your water bottle pocket. Why not?

~

You whizzed over to Jungkook's apartment, yelling along to "Sex With Me" by Rihanna from your throwback playlist to hype you up in the car. When you knocked on his door after a nerve-wrackingly long elevator ride, Jungkook welcomed you with a "C'mon in!" amidst a mouthful of shrimp chips.

"It's not really dinnertime yet," (yeah, no kidding, you thought) "I went ahead and worked out but it's still kind of early, so I figured we could just have a snack and do the homework first."

"Sounds good," you affirmed. "I'm not really that hungry," (read: there's no way I can eat chips AGAIN right now, I'm going to bloat so badly) "but I brought tea so I can go ahead and make that if you want some too!"

"Oh cool, thanks!" Jungkook accepted. "Are you sure you're not hungry though?"

You almost gave into his sweet pout, but managed to convince him, and soon you both sat at the table with laptops open and twin cups of tea. You had a blast working together for the first time, acting out your "conversation" for the discussion board and pretending to respond spontaneously to each other's points like you hadn't already excitedly rambled back and forth through them in real life. You hit "send" five minutes apart, your idea to not seem too suspicious, and kept raving over Rear Window in between. As the sun lowered outside his living room window, you moved on to making the ramen.

After three offers to help Jungkook, all of which he denied, you simply made another steep of the tea, leaving a mug on the counter for him. Standing at the bar counter sipping yours, you enjoyed all the tiny, cute noises he made while chopping green onions and sprinkling extra garlic in the seasoning, like an anime character who came with his own sound effects. You could tell he made these recipe additions every time, because bulk quantities of the same simple ingredients lined the counters of his cozy kitchen. When he beat two eggs and dropped them into the pot, though, he couldn't seem to find a lid, and eventually settled on trapping the steam with a plate. You both waited on the egg for a silent moment, your foot bouncing under the bar while Jungkook restlessly acquired a slight wiggle. As he took a sip of his tea, a strand of hair fell over his eyes, and he yeeted it out of his face. Your inner language nerd cringed, but there really was no more apt word to describe the action.

You offhandedly said you liked his hair long, and he replied with a smile, "Maybe I'll have to keep it then."

"Do you like it too?" you wondered.

"Honestly no, it's kind of inconvenient."

"Oh, then why would you keep it?" you immediately asked back.

"Well..." he dragged out. "You like it? Maybe I should keep it if it looks better this way."

Your eyes crinkled appreciatively at his thoughtfulness, but then you backtracked. "Wait, no, it's okay! If you don't like it, don't feel like you have to keep it just because of something I said. You can do whatever you want."

"Hm, yeah." A demure smile tugged up the corner of his mouth as he lifted the plate from the ramen pot.

You watched him drag a chopstick through the floating, now-cooked egg to tear it into ribbons, then divide the noodles between two generously-sized bowls. He carefully wiped down the drips of broth from each bowl before sprinkling in his fresh toppings, then walked with you to the table.

Serving you with a pleased smile and a slight nod, he announced, "Dinner!"

"Wow," you mused playfully. "So gourmet."

"I'm really particular about my ramen," he admitted. "I have it down to a perfect routine at this point."

You took your first slurp of his particular, perfect ramen. "Well, it's really good. I'm impressed. And thanks for making me dinner, you didn't have to do all that."

"Oh, come on, it's instant ramen," he laughed. "Nothing special. And you brought the tea, so thanks. And thanks for coming over. And doing the homework with me. And...yeah." Rambling again. Why did he seem so...nervous? You were nervous. He couldn't be nervous. What reason did he have to be? But the twitch of his mouth under his wide eyes, his slightly reddened ears, his hand skittering over his neck—fuck—to ruffle his hair...every action turned another page of his open book. It felt infuriatingly unfair that genetics had assigned someone so sweet and shy and unsure of himself to that fucking body.

While you both ate and talked, you kept catching glimpses of any small flashes of skin you could find, as his long sleeves fell to expose his forearms and the wide neckline of his boxy black shirt gaped around his collarbones. What was wrong with you? Even if this did eventually turn into a dick appointment, the boy still had literally all of his clothes on. You tried to refocus on finishing your noodles, while your brain screamed at itself in shame that you could get this turned on by the sight of someone covered from neck to ankle.

Jungkook ate surprisingly slowly, probably because he kept pausing to excitedly explain his favorite things about the Cowboy Bebop episode you were about to watch together. You smiled into your tea through every out-of-context fun fact and "wait, sorry, that might have been a spoiler!"

Finally, he reached the bottom of his bowl and insisted on both taking your dishes to the sink and leaving them for him to clean later. "You sure you want to start on episode 2? Not 1?"

"Yeah, I remember well enough and your summary helped a lot too!"

"Okay, if you're positive!" he double-checked, grabbing the remote.

Gingerly lowering yourselves to the couch in sync, you avoided looking at each other as you both tried to calculate a comfortable distance between you. His hand looked ready to either hold yours or lower to your thigh, but he retracted at the last second, smoothing it over his own leg anxiously and still clearly itching to make a move. You shuffled closer to him until your thighs barely touched, and he shifted to slink an arm around you, letting your head rest on his well-muscled shoulder. After pressing “play”, he began wiggling slightly again, subconsciously grooving to the old-newspaper-style intro. Spike Spiegel appeared on the screen, his broad shoulders squared into a slouch as he listlessly watched TV. Jungkook kicked one leg over another and stretched his arms out symmetrically to echo the pose. Raising an eyebrow, he waited until you acknowledged him with a faux grimace and a hand to your ear, imitating the old man in a lab who’d just called up Spike for a new mission. You both burst into laughter and settled back into your former arrangement, Jungkook holding you imperceptibly tighter. Though you tried to stay staring straight ahead, wanting to genuinely appreciate the anime, you kept catching his doe eyes in the corner of your sight as you both giggled and gasped your way through the episode.

After avoiding eye contact too many times, you finally tilted your head for a cute sideways view of his face. He leaned toward you too, shyly closing the gap to touch his warm lips to your nose, then lower. You responded immediately, rolling your body with his so your chests met as he pulled you up into a full, deeper kiss. The longer you explored each other's mouths, the more Jungkook punctuated your movements with whimpers. He seemed hesitant to let his hands roam away from your face and neck, but his high, breathy moans made it clear that he was just as into this as you. Your hands had naturally found his taut waist, and at some point you started to bring them back up to his face too—but as your short nails grazed his chest, a particularly sensual, voice-cracking moan interrupted you. You drew back in slight surprise, blinking your eyes open to scan from his face to his body.

He followed your gaze, both slowly settling on the massive tent in his pants. You froze. Your breath grew heavier, confronted with evidence of his physical attraction to you, if nothing else. After regaining his composure, he laid a useless hand over his lap in a delicate attempt to distract you and brought his other hand up to tap your face lightly.

"Is this okay?"

His eyes glittered with equal parts hunger and concern.

"Yes!" you nodded, too quickly, too eagerly. "Yes, this is totally okay. Sorry if I'm being weird, I just...it's been a while." You cringed internally at your own words, but couldn't seem to avoid putting your foot further in your mouth. "I haven't really, like, hooked up like this before—like, I've had sex, but never really outside of a relationship. But don't worry, I get this is more your thing, and I'm totally down if you are. I just don't really know what I'm doing, and you clearly do."

Jungkook blinked at your admission, then his face twisted into something curious, inscrutable. Would he decide you weren't worth the potential for drama? His lips flattened out to a tight line, then pursed to speak, and you looked down at your lap, hoping he wasn't as embarrassed of you as you now were of yourself.

"Well, I've never had sex sober."

Your eyes flashed back up to his. A complex half-smirk offset the furrow in his brow as he exhaled in nervous relief. "So, I don't actually know what I'm doing here either."

You tried to delay your response as you processed the implications. "You mean..." You tilted your head for better eye contact, hoping to convey empathy but not pity while you silently contemplated how to proceed. "Never?"

"Yeah, I've always shown up to parties and the hookups just...happened. Nothing I didn't want, nothing bad like that, but always spontaneous. So I guess we're kind of meeting in the middle, because I've never really had to plan ahead for a situation like this and, uh, figure out what I want. Beyond, yknow, wanting to get laid in the moment, of course." Jungkook laughed off the end of his explanation, but the smile never quite hit his eyes.

"Well, okay, let's pause right there." You sighed. Something in his words didn't sit right with you. "What do you want? I want you to be sure about this, of course, but more than that, even—what do you like?"

"I..." he chuckled, sheepish, shaking his hair over his face again. "What, you want me to just tell you? Like, what I'm into?"

"Yeah," you shrugged, trying to project more confidence than you felt in hopes of encouraging him to keep opening up. "I want you to be able to communicate, I want you to be comfortable. And I want to know what you like, so I can make it as good for you as possible."

With your hands still laid flat on his chest, you felt his heart rate jump a tiny bit, and took the liberty of digging your nails in just slightly deeper. His breath caught him, and then he caught himself. "I don't know, I just want what you want."

Jungkook struggled to appear nonchalant as you rolled your eyes with an "Oh, come on," challenging his avoidance. Every instinct was telling him yes. He could hear his mind screaming at him to be intentional for once and let you take him, if not farther, then deeper than ever before. But he still hesitated, because being intentional in this case required him to be real. He had always been a fairly private person, but something about you made him feel so comfortable so fast that it counterintuitively made him more nervous. Of course Jungkook knew you weren't all innocent at this point, but the risk remained that you wouldn't really be down for everything he secretly wanted to explore. Even worse, though he didn't truly think you would, you could easily turn around and spin anything he revealed into yet another graphic rumor. Especially since you had no skin in the game yourself. He glanced down at your fingers, tensed into his chest, and narrowed his eyes.

"Why don't you tell me what you like first? And then I can tell you where we overlap," he grinned competitively. Your eyes widened as he tossed the challenge back your way. Not backing down, you flattened your hands and steeled yourself to settle the stakes.

"Fine—but only if you promise not to just go along with whatever I say. I'll let you know anything that's a hard no for me, but otherwise I want to hear at least one thing that's not on my list. I really do want what you want, that's how I am too, okay? So..." you paused to slide your fingertips over his collar and drag it down with a light scratch, now directly on his skin. You smiled with your eyes, enjoying the way he naturally responded with a hitch of his breath again. "Surely you can think of something specific."

He nodded quickly, before he could convince himself to back out. "Yeah. Promise."

"Okay," you confirmed, slightly nervous but determined to go through with this, for Jungkook's sake if anything. Seeing his body come alive with each new twist of the situation was building your curiosity, not to mention turning you on beyond belief. You could barely stand the warmth of his skin under your hands, so you drew them back to fold in your lap as you began. "So. Uh. To start. I've never really laid it all out like this either. I really like neck kisses? Like, a lot." Equally unused to this kind of directness, you wrung your hands together nervously, but sucked up the boldness to keep elaborating. "That's definitely, like, a big thing that turns me on...and then getting marked up and everything is really hot to me too. Like you can honestly go really rough with me on that, bite me even. I don't know if this is weird but even though it's annoying to cover up, I love taking off the makeup at the end of the day and seeing all the bruises on myself. Knowing I was walking around all day with that as my little secret." You swallowed shyly before continuing, but Jungkook interrupted the brief silence immediately with a hushed "Fuck."

You turned to face him fully and he didn't even move to meet your stare, eyeing the space above your sweatshirt's wide neckline like he was ready to devour you. Emboldened, your smile grew.

"So...yeah. I like being bitten, marked up. Mostly, uh," you rubbed a slightly trembling hand over your shoulder, "I'm just really into pain in general. Obviously not the bad 'I'm too dry and you're jackhammering me' kind of pain, or like, anal. Anal is a hard no. But things like biting, or hair pulling, or overstimulation. Or, like—I don't really know how to explain this, but...getting held too hard? That deep pain like when you get a massage when you're sore and it hurts but it's good, yknow?"

Jungkook looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin, breathing shallow and rapid. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, just in time for you to whisper in conclusion:

"I love that feeling."

You suddenly looked away, reticent. A thick silence swelled between you, until he composed himself enough to punctuate it. "Okay. Yeah. Pain. So like, BDSM?"

"I mean, kind of? Sure? I don't have much experience with that and I don't really need the whole power dynamic aspect; I just like the, uh, physical pain. I wouldn't be opposed to trying further, but one thing I do know is I really don't like being degraded. And I'm not into the whole daddy kink thing either. I'm just not gonna call you that, sorry," you laughed, and fortunately he giggled too. "But I know that's not, like, necessary to the rest of BDSM, and the part about giving up control is still...interesting, for sure."

"Wait," Jungkook cocked his head, making a mental note of your last sentence before he went back to the previous one. "What do you mean, being degraded?"

You half-chuckled, half-cringed, never having needed to explain something like this, especially to a guy you hopefully were about to fuck. Cheers to better communication, you supposed.

"You know, how some people when they do dirty talk are like 'yeah, you little slut, you're such a whore.' I don't like being called any of that. Like it's fine that other people like it, there's nothing wrong with that, it's just really uncomfortable for me."

His brows knit together as you explained, and he shook his head so fast it almost looked cartoonish, like a little kid refusing vegetables. "Yeah, no. Don't worry, not really my thing either."

You sighed in relief. "That's nice. I feel like it's, like, weirdly common with guys. Maybe just the kind of thing people learn from porn."

"But you still like it rough, huh? Did you learn that...from porn?" he half-joked, trying to overcome both his shyness and his gritted-teeth arousal.

"No, I don’t like porn. Most of it’s really unethical. I learned from experience," you sassed back. "I don't have a whole lot, but enough to know what I like."

"Well. Hm." He worked his tongue over his teeth, poking one cheek out over his tensed jaw. You couldn't get enough of watching him grow fascinated by your every revelation, and you were preparing to keep pressing further when he beat you to it, posing a question. "Is there anything you haven't tried before, but really want to?"

Your face heated up instantly, tasting your own medicine. You looked back to your hands, breaking his intense eye contact to give yourself the courage to be even more uncomfortably honest. "I...I...um." Your first attempt at disclosing your fantasy came out as a squeak. Swallowing, you set your shoulders and tried again, selfishly reminding yourself Jungkook seemed so eager to please that this was 99% likely to get you exactly what you wanted. "I've always been, uh, really into the idea of, um, getting spanked. I've been, uh, too nervous to ever bring it up, before now obviously, but it's definitely one of the biggest kinks I've always wanted to try. Maybe being tied up too, I think I'd like it if I tried but I haven't thought about that as much. But, yeah...spanking, definitely."

"Fuuuuuuuuck."

A lengthened version of Jungkook's earlier under-breath exclamation made you peer up at him. Your thighs already pressed together from the tension of admitting something totally new, you found yourself needing even more friction just from the sight of Jungkook with his head thrown back on the couch, a veiny hand threaded in his hair to pull the long waves back from his forehead. The full reveal of his sharp eyebrows brought a whole new level of intensity to Jungkook's already beautifully carved features. He glanced over at you, then squeezed his eyes shut with a terse exhale. You couldn't place why, but you felt a deep attraction to the way he expertly restrained himself from acting on the lust written over his face—not under your control, but his own.

"Oh, fuck. What the fuck. How the fuck would you fucking know," he swore more in a single burst than he cumulatively had ever in your presence.

"What?" you toyed, heart rate still high but relaxed enough to enjoy agitating him. "Something ring a bell?"

Jungkook shuddered out a long breath, hand ruffling his hair as his other forearm still tried desperately to subdue his boner.

"Everything," he hissed, more willing to elaborate now that you had done the same, and especially now that he could tell you really did enjoy him being more assertive. "Shit. I...I want...I know you said not to just say this but I really do want everything you want. I can't wait to mark you up. I can't wait to hold you down and bruise your neck. I want it all, I want to make you hurt so good. And then—" Breathless. He looked almost embarrassed. "Then you had to go and somehow guess basically my biggest fucking kink, I can't fucking believe you." Both hands had come up to seize his long locks as he held himself back physically, while finally letting his guard down mentally to declare everything he intended to do to you. Letting out a short laugh, he finally met your eyes. "I wanna spank your ass bright red. Fuck. This is crazy. You're perfect."

Your core throbbed at every bold word. Leaning in close to him, you let your lips approach Jungkook's beautifully sculpted jawline as he panted, his chin tossed up to fully expose his neck. You stopped just short of his skin, in awe of how much you'd been able to work him up and still so tempted to take it to the next level. "Fuck," you echoed. "This is so hot," you murmured almost to yourself. Your eyes closing along with his, you dealt the final blow. "I love that we have so much in common. But come on, you promised. One thing that's not on my list."

Jungkook whined. You could tell he needed to touch you so badly, and no one was stopping him but himself. He had no way of knowing that if he cut the whole discussion and just took you, you wouldn't even try to resist at this point. Staring at his trembling mouth from below, you quickly averted your eyes when he opened his, pretending you hadn't been looking. He inhaled a short hiss, and then spoke.

"Okay..." He paused after just the first word, blowing air through the tiny "o" of his mouth as his eyes bugged slightly from nervousness. He couldn't resist a challenge, though, and his urge to please you overwhelmed his reluctance to peel back one more layer. "So, the pain thing. I think we, uh, feel the same about me giving and you receiving. But...I'm really into it for myself too. I don't know if you'd be comfortable with it, I know you maybe want me to be more dominant and I think I like that more too in general, but you can be as rough with me as you want back. I'd love that." Eyes still open but fluttering, Jungkook's tone grew breathier, heady as he confessed. You almost giggled at how bashfully he worded his desire to dominate you, to rough each other up, but the contrast was so hot you couldn't help sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, eager for him to continue. His voice lowered. "I love being scratched, marked, bitten...hit me, push me back, any kind of pain or any way you can hurt me, I want it." He shivered, but his voice firmed up even further. "I want it so bad."

You fought to stay motionless beside him, unable to even process how much more his honesty had turned you on. You felt helpless in your desire for him, your craving to give him everything he wanted and more. He noticed your charged stillness and shifted toward you, removing a hand from his hair to finally reach for your face. Threading his fingers through your hair instinctively like he had with his own, he tilted your head back to access your neck. Jungkook finally felt confident enough to tease you back as he skimmed his lips over your pulse point, tugging your skin between his teeth for a gentle first taste and grinning when you moaned. Seeing someone so satisfied, for reasons better than just his body or their pride, brought the most incredible rush of blood to his head. And his other head.

"And I get why you want it too," he finished with a whisper in your ear. "So trust me when I say I really, really want to give it to you."

In an instant, your hands yanked his hair down to bring his face up to yours, mouths crashing together. Feverish, restless, you kissed him, hastily attempting to straddle his thick thighs before he threw his body over yours and pinned you to the back of the couch. His hands wandered, intrepid, from your waist to a quick squeeze of your breasts before he spiraled you into his strong arms. Pressing your chest flush with his as your mouths meshed, he ground his hips into you shamelessly, enjoying the way you struggled beneath him to align your core with his rock-hard dick.

"Your room?" You rushed out the words.

Jungkook laughed a little, his tone half whine and half dare. "So we're done talking?"

"Come on," you pleaded back. He finally relented, pulling you up with him and dragging you across the living room and through his door, lips not leaving yours for a second. You backed him into the bed with your arms against his strong chest, and once he was sitting perched on the edge, you laid yourself horizontally over his thighs.

"What are you doing?" he murmured, curling a hand over the dip of your waist to hold you gently.

You angled your head back to make unsteady eye contact with him, flipping your shorts down boldly. His free hand automatically reached to slowly conform to the shape of your ass, so eager to touch you but tentative as he grazed your curves.

"Giving you exactly what you want."

"Fuck. Really? You're sure about this?" Jungkook held careful eye contact as you brought your arms back up, crossing your wrists over your head delicately. You nodded slightly and did your best to meet his gaze with confident invitation, convincing him how much you trusted and wanted him.

He smoothed his warm hand over your ass one more time, then brought it up and watched your thighs tighten at the loss of his touch. Breathing in, still a little shakily, he brought his hand down on your right cheek with a loud but mild smack. A grunt of satisfaction involuntarily left him when he saw your face flinch down into the sheets, subduing a small noise of surprise. He returned his hand to caress the light redness he'd left, checking in with you again. "Is this okay? Let me know if I should stop."

You replied with your face still tucked between your arms, muffled by the bed. "More than okay. Please don't stop."

He spanked you again, moving to your left cheek. This time you felt his dick twitch under you and couldn't help grinding down on him a little bit. "Is that as hard as you can go?" you taunted in low tones, brave enough to egg him on but not quite enough to meet his eyes again.

Jungkook's thighs and core tensed under you, and he squeezed his fingertips tighter, digging into the skin of your ass. "Not at all," he said simply.

Deep breath. A few seconds passed, and his hand came down, harshly. You cried out in shock, the timing unexpected and the sting far sharper, and he gave your other cheek a fourth hard smack before you could even process the third one. "Harder?" he tested. "Tell me."

Another spank. "Mmmf."

"You like this, huh?"

"Yes, I told you," you whimpered back, half-teasing even though you were in no position to do so. Immediately, he cut you off with a stinging hit across both cheeks, and you moaned.

"You really do," he breathed lowly. "Fuck yeah. Take it then."

He spanked you again, and again, then paused, tugging down your shorts all the way to your ankles to expose the crease right above your thighs. Rubbing your already sore bottom, Jungkook cupped the underside of its curve in his big, firm hand. Already anticipating your whine, he drew back his touch and hummed in harmony with you. He continued landing satisfyingly hard smacks, alternating to cover your ass evenly. His dick strained through his pants more and more each time you trembled under his touch. Never hitting you hard enough to do serious damage, he still clearly enjoyed his thorough reddening of your ass, and occasionally took a moment just to caress your skin as it warmed from the spanking. The pain lit your senses up from head to toe. Face burning with deep arousal, you mentally thanked yourself for going out of your comfort zone and unprecedentedly admitting your kinks before even venturing into your first time together. Amidst the thrilling sting of his hand meeting your soft curves, Jungkook eventually noticed your thighs clenching together, craving friction but not really wanting relief from the pleasurable burn.

"You're wet," he marveled, sliding two warm fingers up and down your slit.

"Mhm," you mumbled back as you tilted your hips into his hand. He gave you a light slap right on the folds between your legs, eliciting another soft moan.

"So good for me," Jungkook said softly, pulling you up into his lap by your waist. "You look so pretty like this. I wanna see all of you." He tugged your sweatshirt over your head, followed by your sports bra, thankful that it stretched over your head easily. Suddenly grinning, he wound up and shot it across the room like a rubber band, and you smacked his arm, giggling.

"What was that? You cheeseball," you teased, and he blinked, chuckling lightly back. It occurred to him that he'd never laughed, or made someone laugh, during sex before.

"It was so stretchy! Don't make fun of me," he blushed.

"You're so cute," you said, fingers sliding under his t-shirt hem.

"Cute?" His eyebrows rose in mock disbelief, and he reached around to land another hit to your still-red asscheek.

"Hot," you amended. Raising his shirt and finally getting a full glimpse of his enviable abs, you groaned. "You're extremely hot, and also really cute, and it's kind of ridiculous and I don't really know how to handle all of it at once."

His face scrunching up into a smile at the praise, he fell back onto the bed with his arms behind his head. "You are too, you know. Really cute, of course. But really hot too." As you discarded his shirt and moved on to easing his sweatpants down his hips, you held in a gasp as his erection sprung up from the waistband. He was big, thick, and painfully hard, his tip glistening warm with precum and a lone vein running prominently up his smooth shaft. Although you wouldn't be corroborating them, you had to admit to yourself that all the rumors were true. You instinctively curled a hand around it, barely covering half his length, and he winced at your slightest touch. Pulling off with a single slow stroke, you slid his sweatpants and briefs all the way to the floor and then stood, looking up from his legs to his blown-out eyes to take in the glorious sight of his fully naked body.

"You shave," you said, surprised by the clean skin under his arms and between his legs.

"Yeah," he demurred, self-conscious for some reason. He lowered his arms to fold them over his torso, somehow defining his biceps even more. "I'm on the dance team, and it's nice to feel all smooth for practice and stuff. I don't know, I just like it."

"Oh, that's cool! No worries, I like it too. And you don't mind that..." You looked down at yourself, still just standing naked in front of him. "...I don't? Like, down there at least."

"No, you do you!" he said quickly. With a shy smile, he admitted, "I actually kind of like it on you. I do this for me, anyway, not for anyone else," he playfully noted. Slowly, he was sitting up to take hold of your waist and lower you down to the bed with him. Pausing to kiss the sweet spot under your jaw, he continued. "So don't feel like you have to do anything, or not do anything, either."

Jungkook couldn't quite explain the nature of how his attraction to you had developed. Seeing how open and honest you were with him made it easy for him to be honest with you too, and just to feel comfortable being himself. He admired the way he could still tell you sometimes got nervous like him, but it didn’t stop you from getting real or going bolder. Unable to fully express it in words, he just hoped to ensure you felt as comfortable and respected around him as he did around you. He already knew that he wanted this to be more than just a one-time thing, and while he still hesitated to assume that you felt the same, he intended to leave no doubt by the end of the night.

You moaned as he nipped at the skin of your neck. It was so easy to get swept back up in Jungkook. You could barely handle the friction of his dick rutting against your wet folds from below, craving him inside you. "Ughhh. Wait, one more thing. I'm on the pill, are you clean?"

"Yes," he gasped, barely removing his mouth from your jaw. "Are you?"

"Yeah, so we don't need a condom. If that's cool with you!"

"Yeah! But, you're ready?" He seemed surprised.

"Aren't you?" you whined, beyond holding back. He felt so unbearably hard that his coherence and willpower kind of surprised you too. "Please, I want you so bad."

To your surprise, he lowered his head to the crest of your legs, dotting wet kisses down your torso. Keeping his big brown eyes on you, he teased your entrance with a finger and echoed your immediate groan at the welcome stretch.

"You really are ready," he remarked, awed at the ease with which your wetness sucked the digit in. Frankly, you were in awe as well. It had taken your ex-boyfriend months to figure out how to get you this worked up. Jungkook either had even more experience than you'd heard from the grapevine, or he was a natural. Or maybe you were just really, ridiculously, primally attracted to him. He went on to curve his finger in you and lick a messy swipe up your folds, sucking hard once he reached your sensitive clit. You cried out at the delicious burst of stimulation and he rose up to catch your lips with his.

"I had to do that, just once," he grinned breathlessly. "But—"

"Let me suck you off," you interjected, unbelievably fucking turned on and dying to please him.

"No," he gasped with far more fervency than you'd think anyone could refuse a blowjob. "Please, I was about to say—" he choked out a high-pitched moan as you ran a single finger up his shaft in anticipation, sinking the nails of your other hand into his thigh. "—I think I'm gonna explode if I don't get inside you right this second."

So he did have a breaking point. "Fuck," you muttered, bringing your legs around his to tuck your heels under his tight ass as he lined up. He eased his tip in, keeping heavy eyes on you the whole time, and you could feel the hot, thick tension in his thighs as he struggled to hold himself back from just thrusting into your heat. Slowly, he drew closer into you until he bottomed out with a low moan. You whined at the perfect slight pain of the stretch, and Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut, gripping you by your waist. Watching the veins in his forearms stand out as he drove almost all the way out and back into you, you rocked your hips carefully against his with each smooth stroke, getting used to his fullness. When his balls met your ass again, he shuddered a bit and opened his eyes into yours.

You answered his question before he could even ask it. "Jungkook—you feel so good. You can go faster, it's okay."

A smile hit his eyes before his mouth, and he kissed you once, pressing his chest to yours and intertwining your tongues eagerly. You bit his bottom lip as he slowly drew away, tugging it between your teeth to pull a sweet little whimper from his throat. Grinning, he leaned back in to touch his forehead to yours and simultaneously slid a subtle hand under your ass to curve your hips up with his. The slight leftover sensitivity of your skin amplified his light touch, and Jungkook seemed to realize this, curling his fingers to tease you with the tips of his nails. Instinctively, you ducked to bite his neck, not even registering your move to pass the pain back to him until he choked out a beautifully half-restrained moan and snapped his hips into yours. Gasping, you encouraged him to lose himself in you, dragging your lips up to latch around his earlobe. He hissed and thrust into you sharply again, meeting the time of your movements as you swirled your tongue between each of his hoop earrings. Soon he was pounding you rhythmically, finally letting you feel the full force of his strength but keeping remarkable control over both his body and yours. Both of you had gone silent except for your heavy breaths, lost in the moment, but the flexed shivers of his thighs and twitches of his fingers in your hair told you all you needed to know. Suddenly yanking your strands to pull you back from the additional bruise you'd sucked beneath his ear, he earned a new set of scratches on his back as your hands dragged down the muscular expanse in reply. Jungkook switched places with you to draw dark clouds from your skin, a storm brewing under your jaw. Your face fell into pure bliss, eyes shut and immersed in the barrage of sensation from his hands, mouth, and big dick filling you. Already feeling the familiar tension that preceded an orgasm building through your whole body, you chased him closer to his climax too, grinding back roughly into every thrust and raking your hands over every part of his firm body you could reach.

You had really been fooling yourself when you thought you could try something casual for once. You wanted more of Jungkook, all of Jungkook, nothing but Jungkook ever again. Knowing he'd never even gone back to the same hookup twice sank slight anxiety into your stomach, a kind of future nostalgia for this moment you already feared losing. You knew you weren't anything special compared to the catalogue of gorgeous girls he'd had his turn with, but a deviant voice whispered from the back of your mind that you could be, because it was clear none had bothered to learn him like this. You'd still try your desperate best not to want too much from him, but you resolved to do whatever you could to make him crave more.

Rolling your hips in a smooth circle against him, you clenched around his dick and your hands tightened their fierce hold on his tiny waist. You felt his abs tense within your grasp as he tried not to stutter into you.

"Fuck. No." His voice cracked, but held an undertone of ferocity. "You come first." Jungkook rushed a hand to your clit, adding pressure in small, deft motions with a fingertip as he kept fucking you deep. You sank your teeth into his shoulder in response, drawing your hands up his back to clutch him closer to you, and Jungkook cried out. You left your mouth on his golden skin to stifle your moans as he sped up his fingers, and he tried to let you stay there but eventually couldn't help pulling you off him to see your face. Eyes narrowed and eyebrows turning up sharp at the ends, he watched you like a hawk to track the exact moment when he pushed you over the edge. Your face crumpled and you felt your whole body burn under his gaze as you came, squeezing around him in waves of pleasure while he fucked you through your high, unrelenting. Drinking up the bliss obvious on your features, Jungkook's eyes never left yours and his expression grew more and more fucked out. You marveled at how even as you lost control and energy to fuck him back, your body freezing in orgasm seemed to turn him on further. One last pulse of the tension leaving your core made his dick throb inside you, and you impulsively broke your eye contact to lean in and bite down slow but hard on his neck again. He gasped.

"You're amazing." Murmuring into his skin, you kissed the bite marks gently. Jungkook whimpered at the sweet contradiction and lurched into your hips even harder. You recovered to move with him, squeezing him deeper into you every time he bottomed out, and as his breathless moans escalated in pitch, his whole body shivered with each stroke. Pressing wet, heavy kisses all over his neck, you felt his jaw flutter while his lips hung open. His considerable strength spent, Jungkook shuddered one last hard thrust into you and finally let go, coating your walls from within. His hips lightly rocked against yours as he stayed deep inside you, still hard and savoring the euphoric release he'd held back for so long. You felt so incredibly warm and comfortable around his sensitive dick, relaxed but still holding him tight, and he couldn't help holding you up for a languid kiss before pulling out of you smoothly.

He briefly looked into your eyes, and you saw stars. The sun had continued to set outside, and it peeked between the blinds of his window to wrap you both in a warm, slivered glow. Staring down at his hands on your body, Jungkook took a deep breath and collapsed to your side, holding you close. You settled into him, cupping a hand over his head on your chest. With your fingers laced through his sweaty hair, you stroked his temple with your thumb, worrying for a second whether the gesture seemed too intimate but forgetting your fear when he snuggled up into your touch. You felt the need to say something, to figure out what the fuck was next after this, but stayed silent, not wanting to disturb the comforting weight of his frame. Heartbeat still racing, Jungkook stretched out to breathe a long sigh. As he sank back into you, you stretched under him too, letting his solid, warm body drape over you like a blanket. This couldn't be farther from what you'd expected with him, but you weren't about to make it stop. Surely, eventually, he would.

A minute passed. And then five. And then, before either of you could talk yourselves out of it, you were asleep, intertwined.

[cactusnymph]

Prompt fill #3 for @dimension20alphabet:

Cooking

“Are we really sure that this is necessary?”

 “Don’t be such a baby about it!”

 “I’m not being a baby, I just don’t see how this would ever be relevant to my life—“

 “May I remind you that your dear mother tried to heat up a whole cantaloupe in a pan in an attempt to make it ‘pop’ when I went on a short vacation, Master Fabian?”, Cathilda interrupts Adaine’s and Fabian’s argument.

 Fabian opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it again before crossing his arms over his chest. Cathilda regards him fondly and pats him on the shoulder.

 “Master Fabian, there might as well come a time where you will have no one to take care of your food, so I have to agree with Mistress Adaine. A little bit of independence never hurt anyone”, she says and watches as Adaine smiles triumphantly.

 “And I do not want to risk you or your mother hurting yourself over such a simple thing as a cantaloupe.”

 “Okay, maybe the cantaloupe was a bit of a disaster, but I feel like we can put it aside now”, Fabian says only for Adaine to mouth “A whole cantaloupe. In a pan!” at him. Cathilda pretends that she doesn’t notice and steps closer to the kitchen counter.

 “So, Master Fabian, are you ready for a new challenge?”, she asks with a smile and feels accomplished when she sees Fabian’s eyes spark. He’s still his father’s darling boy and backing down from a challenge was nothing that Bill ever did.

 “Well. I guess. Let’s make some pasta.”

 Adaine has requested to learn how to make pasta with red sauce and meatballs.

 “Why the hell did you even want to learn cooking?”, Fabian asks Adaine while he’s trying very hard not to cry over an onion. Adaine stands next to him, carefully cutting tomatoes while Cathilda takes care of the garlic. Fabian looks like he’s trying to murder the onion, but aside from that he’s not doing a bad job.

 “I talked to the others and all of them knew how to make at least one thing. Even Riz. And he mostly consumes coffee and cereal. Apparently him and Sklonda have this meatloaf they make for Riz’ birthday... Anyway. I thought about how it would be, living on my own. And then I got kind of scared that I’d just burn the whole house down. And it’s always nice to learn new things.”

 She shrugs and looks a little embarrassed so Cathilda points to the heated up pan on the stove for Adaine to put the tomatoes in.

 “Well, I don’t see why I wouldn’t have a maid doing these things for me—“

 “Do you want me to bring up the cantaloupe again?”

 “Oh, come on!”

 “Master Fabian, can you hand me the sugar, please?”

 Fabian blinks in confusion as he turns around to look at her.

 “Sugar?”

 “Yes, Master Fabian.”

 “But it’s meatballs.”

 “That is very right, Master Fabian, but there always needs to be a spoonful of sugar in everything you make with tomatoes.”

 “That sounds... wild.”

 “Well, there is quite a bit of acidity in tomatoes and to balance that out it’s good to put some sugar into it”, Cathilda explains patiently.

 “Oh! It’s basically science!”, Adaine says and sounds excited.

 “God, you’re such a nerd.”

 “You say that like it’s a bad thing, as if you weren’t head over heels for—“

 Fabian almost throws all of his cut onions onto the floor as he lunges himself at Adaine to put his hand over her mouth. Cathilda chuckles as Adaine wrinkles her nose as Fabian’s hand touches her face—most likely because it smells a lot like onions.

 Cathilda pretends, very politely, to not pay any attention to the two of them as she stirs the tomatoes that have started losing a lot of water inside the pan.

 “You don’t know what you’re talking about”, Fabian hisses and Adaine snorts against his palm.

 “It’s quite alright, Master Fabian. I won’t tell anyone”, Cathilda offers kindly and she watches out of the corner of her eye how Fabian’s face turns a bright red as he pulls his hand away from Adaine’s mouth.

 “I have no idea what you two are talking about”, he growls and goes back to hacking the onions. Cathilda gently takes the knife from him.

 “Those look very nicely chopped, Master Fabian. Well done. We can start frying them with the garlic now”, Cathilda says to ease the tension. She watches the two of them form meatballs—Fabian seems to be under the impression that this is some kind of contest, while Adaine nervously tries to make all of them exactly the same size.

 Cathilda feels an immense feeling of pride well up in her chest as she looks as Fabian and Adaine watching over the meatballs slowly browning in the pen, bickering about how to best turn them over to fry them evenly.

 “This might be the first time we’re spending time together without the others”, Adaine says at some point.

 “Old money squad”, Fabian answers with a grin and holds out his fist for Adaine to bump.

 “Maybe we can find any other squad name?”, she asks, her voice full of exasperation, but she still raises her fist for Fabian to bump his against.

 “You say that like coming from old money is a bad thing.”

 “Well, I don’t mean it that way. But I’m not exactly proud of it.”

 “I won’t be calling us the meatball squad, Adaine.”

 “Dad-killer squad?”

 “Oh, that sounds badass. I like it!”

 “Dad-killer squad it is.”

 “Oh, to be young again”, Cathilda sighs amused as she turns down the heat of the stove and starts explaining how to pick the best kind of pasta for the recipe. Adaine starts taking notes, Fabian laughs at her for it. At some point Adaine conjures a magical hand, grabs some of the tomato paste and presses it into Fabian’s face.

 Cathilda decides, since the sauce is still simmering gently and these children deserve to have normal, teenager-appropriate fun, to leave them to it for a while. She listens to the shouting from the living room while folding laundry.

 It’s certainly good to know that the kids are going to be alright.