#all I’ve done today is get back home and chop one food and eat and I’m dead and crying in the shower because my body hurts from exhaustion

[vaciena]

I really fucking wish I had someone to talk to about everything and get support other than my gf

[jargonbyjulia]

“It’s impossible!”

I’ve heard the saying, “Mums get no days off.” It’s true and it isn’t. I know a couple of mums that get plenty of days off, with health retreats throughout the year, child-free holidays, and so on. Sometimes days off seem IMPOSSIBLE. Even getting through some days seems impossible. I get a few hours to myself; I like to get my nails done, and tomorrow I have a first hair appointment in six months - shock horror!

I have a two and a five year old, and I work part time. On Thursdays I work at home, and I like to think of that as my day “off”. I work in peace, I play my own music, I answer only to the ding of Teams’ notifications, emails and my stomach rumbles. Today is Thursday, and I had my two year old home sick from daycare. It’s barely just winter, and we’ve been knocked out at least twice already. I did my best to keep her entertained while I caught up on the work I started Tuesday, where seven meetings had me pretty tied up. We were doing fine, and she was enjoying being home with me, watching Peppa Pig on repeat, and eating through the snack shelf of the pantry.

At 11:00am, my daughter’s school called asking if I could pick up my preppy as she had a headache, fever and sore tummy. So I alerted work, bundled up my toddler and ran to the rescue. She wasn’t well, at all. We made her warm and gave her medicine, and suddenly it was 11:30am, which means nap time for the little one. I quickly answered emails, started writing an article and reviewed some work. I made sure miss five was comfortable and then put miss two down for her nap. After that, I made a quick couple of sandwiches for us, and ate at my desk. While answering 785 questions, including “How do you spell chicken?” and “What is 78 plus 802?” (from my child, not a colleague), I worked through my list for the day, trying my hardest to focus on the tasks at hand. Suddenly it’s 1:45pm and my two year old is awake, and I break my focus. Now it’s time to prepare her food and get her playing happily with her sister. It’s much easier than I had thought, so I can get back to my work. By 3pm, she’s sitting on my lap tapping away at the keys on my computer, asking why I have a spare TV (my second computer monitor) and she just has a lousy plastic phone with dead batteries.

The dog is whining as he hasn’t had a walk all day. My husband left for work at 8:30am, and he won’t be back until we are asleep at 10pm. Miss five goes downhill as suddenly as Melbourne’s morning temperatures, and needs her fever brought down, so there’s no leaving the house. I’m starting to think getting through this day is impossible, but we push through with more snacks, YouTube kids and a cranked heater.

At 4:30pm I’m cooking lamb chops from Monday and drafting my weekly wrap-up for work.

My phone rings. My husband asks, “How was your day?” I sigh and say it was busy. I read some feedback about my work as the kids eat dinner in front of the fire I made by rubbing two sticks together because everyone is “SO COLD!” and I take a breath. Only a quick one though, as I need to run the bath for two girls who identify solely as mermaids and then hit send on one more message before the end of the working day. COB they call it; Close of Business. (Mums don’t really have a COB though, do they?!)

I haven’t had a shower all day, and it’s 6:20pm. My youngest just shut her head in the fridge trying to make imaginary apple pie for the dog, there’s a full basket of clean laundry waiting to be folded on the kitchen table and I think the wombok I was relying on to substitute as salad leaf for my dinner is growing babies. But gosh, somehow I feel accomplished. There’s ice cream on the couch slowly seeping into the earth under our home, the iPads are dead and I am tired, so tired. But I’ve nearly ticked everything off my work to-do list, and, apart from fridge-headgate, the girls are now content, warm, full, laughing, and nearly ready for bed.

Mums do get days off, but not me today. And that’s ok! We got through it. I’m forever grateful for an extremely supportive workplace who understand what people, and mums, go through on a daily basis. No one pressured me to hit unrealistic deadlines, and everyone understood what I was going through, or at least sympathised or empathised with me. And in the end, it just makes me want to work smarter, and harder. In all aspects of my life.

There will be a glass or four poured tonight, and I’d say they are well deserved. I’ve just realised baby mermaid is due for her antibiotics, so I’ll end with one of our favourite Peppa Pig quotes, “It’s impossible!”

But really Peppa, NOTHING is impossible.

[astroprompts]

✧ — 𝐁. 𝐃𝐘𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

“This recipe is making me cry, not the onions.”

“Already smells like death.”

“Really, [name]?”

“Make sure to chop it up all fine and disgusting.”

“Are we sure this recipe wasn’t written by a cat?”

“How did we get to this?”

“I do this for you.”

“This is not food, this is a war crime.”

“Buy me dinner first.”

“That was distasteful.”

“It looks like a failed grave robbery.”

“Smells like botulism.”

“It’s 10pm and I’m boiling prunes in my kitchen.”

“Walnuts ain’t gonna save this recipe, sweetie.”

“How does one know when a laxative is done cooking?”

“It’s not bad, it just vaguely tastes like a felony.”

“How am I supposed to know how big your teacups are??”

“Why do dead people like dates so much?”

“Pretty sure this is how diesel is made.”

“Easy does it. Wouldn’t want to ruin a disaster.”

“Here goes nothing!”

“This is the only cake that looks burnt BEFORE you bake it.”

“Tastes like a boot.”

“The slogan for this cookbook is ‘it’s digestible!’.”

“Remember kids, the main ingredient in pie pastry is self-doubt.”

“Here come the tears. Like my mom after a glass of wine.”

“It’s like if a beef wellington got sad.”

“This feels familiar.”

“I didn’t know tuberculosis had a color scheme.”

“I won’t lie, it smells good!”

“Tastes good, but it feels like a pre-existing condition.”

“This is a misdemeanor.”

“I think I’ve summoned something.”

“Smells deceased.”

“Can you bake a pie with only four ingredients? Yes! I could also eat my mattress.”

“I’m sorry, but we have to let you go.”

“What if I told you I hate pie?”

“I’m not THAT desperate.”

“Are you still here? Dammit.”

“Was this written for a fish?”

“Is this a joke?”

“I think this qualifies as a pre-existing condition.”

“This is not legal!”

“It finished a bit early. Like my ex.”

“Tastes like lint. Soggy lint.”

“No man this Valentine’s day? No problem!”

“I don’t know if I need a knife and fork or if I need to tie my hair back.”

“Do I call the police or a priest?”

“What goes well with I.B.S?”

“You’re a piece of work.”

“Tastes like a shower drain. Or a bunion.”

“Careful not to overmix.”

“Sorry, I’m just trying to kill it.”

“This is why we don’t perform lobotomies anymore.”

“Did I mention this was a cake?”

“Can we at least have coffee first?”

“I bet this recipe is just all the wrong answers on a baking test.”

“Not bad, dead people.”

“It’s incredible! And I’m mad about it!”

“Sir, your phone number is four digits.”

“Wakey wakey, time for school!”

“Don’t come back.”

“It’s a little late in the century for war crimes.”

“I’ve never been particularly religious, but today might be the day.”

“I feel like if I do this correctly, I’m gonna invoke the spirit of Richard Nixon.”

“This isn’t food, this is a bioweapon.”

“This tastes like an IHOP kitchen floor.”

“It’s uncomfortably appetizing.”

“Smells like a Palm Springs retirement home.”

“Walnuts are never optional.”

[taylorgraymoore]

January 8, 2024

A week since my last entry. Well, that’s probably healthy. Not like I haven’t been working on this, though—for that week, most of which was taken up by 2-9:30 evening shifts, I was working on the Montreal content. Wake up, write, go to work, come home, write, go to sleep, wake up, write… etc. I got sick of it and needed to step away. Now I can take steps back again.

Since yesterday have started thinking about my short story collection as a whole work, too. It is absurd, oversized and pretentious. I want to put a quote from Journey to the End of Night in as an epigraph, and it is so long that I doubt anyone would consider publishing it as a debut work. On top of that, most of the stories don’t even make conventional sense. But it’s my work, the way I want it, and that makes me happy. 

What else did I do? I did do a couple other things.

Last night, went to Bimini’s for a friends birthday, last minute. I abandoned a lamb chop and a bottle of wine, because it was his birthday and I hadn’t seen him for ages. Getting there was a trial—I hate number seven bus, I hate it passionately, and no further comment—and the experience I had with the establishment itself was lukewarm figuratively and literally, but it was good to see Alex. We went to the Woodstove Festival in Cumberland together in 2022. We set up a little table on a street corner and sold my book, gave out free coffee. A wonderful experience, that. He once did an illustration to go with a poem I got published in an online journal. It will always be good to see Alex.

Today, the weather got truly miserable. It snowed a little bit in the morning, although it did not stick. The rest of the day was simply miserably cold. I was on till at work the first half of the day, and my exterminates went numb from being so close to the door. I had been going to have salad for lunch, but I caved and got Chinese BBQ on rice because I needed to eat something hot. The rain had mostly slowed by the time I finished, and was on my way to have dinner with Aby at Nuba in Kits. It was even pleasant, if chilly, to walk from the 99 stop at MacDonald to the restaurant at Balaclava. Food was fantastic; conversation was fantastic—I was a bit sleepy, especially at first (waking up at seven after a week of evening shifts that half force you to sleep in until nine is not fun), but I perked up with tea and lamb kebab in me. Always good to see Aby.

Got home, looked at narrowboats to rent, with grandpa. The two of us are going to England and going about the canals later this year. 

Now I’m here. It’s 11:30 and I’m too tired to be writing. I have said that before: this is often when I do end up getting this done. I’ve written it for the sake of writing it. A written word is never wasted.

I have mixed feelings about all the Montreal stuff I counterfeited over the last week—it was written so long after it happened, it isn’t real in the same way this is. I can sense the difference in timbre. But I had (have) the gut feeling that it was important to get it down when it was still fresh enough that it could be counterfeited at all. I’m proud of the work. Maybe I’ll do something more with it one day. Maybe if I go to Expozine another time and have a table, I’ll self-publish it as a book—sell people a book about Expozine at Expozine, how does that sound.

I’ve written enough of it that there are no true gaps left. The last couple of days need to be fleshed out, but something is there of them. A full continuity of events, and I feel confident enough that I could come back to it and finish the work later without much important being forgotten. There’s also the entry for the 9th, when I saw Cali, that I want as sort of an epilogue. That one will probably involve more artifice. Too soon to think about it—I want to spend time with other projects for now. 

[hellycatto]

wisdom teeth recovery journey | d1-4

I got my wisdom teeth out this Friday - it was a pretty scary experience but it had to be done!

When I was in the process of applying to medical school, so many people asked me why I wouldn’t consider dentistry instead. My honest answer? Teeth make me so uncomfortable! Looking at the Xray of my OWN teeth with all the roots made me feel uneasy.

My teeth were completely impacted and at a 90 degree angle. The dentist also said that there was a gap between the wisdom teeth and my other teeth, meaning that it was imperative to get them out ASAP. I got them all out at once, it took almost 3 hours for the entire process, and this was done under LA.

The surgery wasn’t too scary. The only painful bit was the anaesthesia injections. Afterwards, I couldn’t feel much other than the pressure and I could hear the constantly drilling of my teeth! Once everything was done, I got 2 pieces of gauze of bite on, a pack of painkillers and antibiotics to munch on.

day 1

The first thing I did was go to the supermarket to buy some jelly! My mouth was so numb that I couldn’t feel anything and couldn’t manage to swallow - blood was dripping from my lips onto my favourite shirt.

When I reached home, I started a fever, and so I propped myself up at a 45 degree angle (as recommended by the internet to reduce swelling), and went to bed for the rest of the day. It was really painful to move my mouth to speak or swallow initially, but I finally choked down some water for my painkillers and antibiotics. My mom bought me lots of soy milk and blackcurrant juice, and I survived off that for the day.

day 2

Still really swollen and sore - I felt like a Lego figurine with a square head! I spent most of the day dozing off and recovering, but also managed to choke down some rice congee and Japanese grape flavoured jellies. At this point, I hadn’t brushed my teeth for 2 days and my mouth tasted absolutely terrible. I was also told not to rinse my mouth, so I could just taste so much blood and I hated it.

day 3

This is when things started looking up! I managed to challenge myself with more food - I was absolutely starved for proper food at this point. My dentist recommended 2 weeks of a soft diet, but I really needed food. For breakfast, I had lots of almond milk and chocolate milk, and ripped some soft bread rolls into bite sized pieces. For lunch, my family headed to a Chinese restaurant and the food was amazing! I had some seafood broth with white rice, a little bit of tofu and some duck by chopping everything up into manageable bits and chomping with my front teeth. For dinner, I had pumpkin soup with a bread roll. Unfortunately, I had a pounding headache and my stomach was hurting so much from my improper eating and sleeping schedule in the last few days, so I took some painkillers and retired to bed really early. It was a tough night!

day 4

The first thing my mom said to me this morning was: you can speak! The soreness and swelling has gone down, and I’m feeling braver about trying new foods. For breakfast, my mom headed to a brunch place where I ordered some soup and had an iced tea. The iced tea was so good, I had it with almond milk & lots of caramelised sugar. I also had a vegan banana bread that I devoured.

I don’t know if it’s because of my teeth, but I get so tired so easily! After our brunch adventure, I went home to rest for a little bit, and had some chocolate almond milk & soft chocolate bread for lunch. For dinner, I felt really really brave! I made some frozen fried food in the air fryer and I could feel my stitches at the back of my mouth. I also finally dared to brush my teeth yesterday and today, just extremely gingerly. I also rinsed my mouth. I’ve been told you can’t spit out anything, so I just let the water drip out of my mouth in an unsightly fashion.

overall

The one very good thing about getting all your wisdom teeth out at a time is that you’ll never have to do it again, ever! Although with my luck, it’s entirely possible that new teeth are already growing in.

Just kidding! But I’m glad that I got this done and it wasn’t too torturous an experience. Just be prepared to give yourself lots of slack and rest, and to give up your favourite foods for a couple of days.

Some lifesavers was having an abundance of milk and sweet drinks by my side, and lots of pillows to prop yourself up in bed.

how did your wisdom teeth removal journey go? if you haven’t done it, what are some questions you have? and if you don’t have wisdom teeth, how does it feel like to be part of a favoured group?

That’s all from me, and all the best to everyone!

Love, Hellycatto <3

[schizoidnightmares]

The Gorge, III: Lonely Among the Clouds

A.I. placeholder artwork generated using NightCafe Stable Diffusion XL v1.0 — CC0 1.0

132nd of First, 1100 A.W. — It is the 11th day out. Supplies are thinning out faster than the airsail’s cook, Leap Frog, expected. The captain has ordered strict rationing. There has been no land in sight. Each day drags longer. I feel like my body is shambling towards death.

I can’t even remember what it feels like to be on land. Getting a good sleep has been impossible. All members of the crew are exhausted. At night, when I do manage to dream, I dream fleetingly of discovering land or falling overboard. I have lost weight since we left. Everyone has.

The smell inside the gondola is almost unbearable. I hate it down here. It’s crowded and miserable. All the men look at me like they want to murder or cook me on a stick. I’ve been spending more time on the deck. I used to avoid going up there, but either I’ve become more accustomed to the winds and the heights, or it’s just not as bad as being below.

I’ve been falling behind on my duties. I can’t write on deck, and writing inside the gondola is filled with disruption. Whenever I put pen to paper, a crew member comes over and asks me to clean. I only get work done after Leaping Tiger berates the crew for harassing me. I’m surprised he sticks up for me as he does, but I doubt it has anything to do with a personal liking of me. For the captain, only duty matters. He may look as dead as the rest of the crew, but his spirit is unwavering.

Fog Eyes is the most pessimistic of the crew. He believes we are on a doomed voyage. We won’t have enough supplies to return home even if we find land. Whatever we may find on land — if we find land — may not even be edible for us. Leap Frog jokes about resorting to alternative food sources. They may be jokes for now, but what happens when all that is left to eat is us? I would be the first on the chopping block.

Sometimes, when I’m up on deck, I think I see shadows beneath the ocean’s surface. Not shadows from clouds… Dark shapes, like whales or sharks, but even bigger… We’re too high to get a close enough look. Maybe if the captain let me borrow his telescope… I would not dare ask. I’m sure if he saw anything, he would have me write it into my reports.

To keep my spirit occupied, I daydream of home… My mind wanders into the depths of history… Some of the other crew have resorted to religion — prayer. They believe the Wise One will guide us to a promised land. It reminds me of history, 400 years ago…

The Council never liked religion. Not now and certainly not back then. They have always tolerated private practice… What people do in the privacy of their home… Organized religion, however… The Council regards it as an intolerable pestilence.

It all comes back to the early 700s, the founding of Heaven’s Polity. Heaven Valley had just been conquered then. The former tribal peoples brought over their superstitious nature during their integration. Among them, a messianic figure arose, the Wise Man. He claimed to be in contact with the Wise One through mind speech.

Others, well before the Wise Man, reported hearing whispers when traversing the Wise Mountains. This was before the dawn of science in the 1000s. We now know, through repeated experiments, that there are no whispers to be heard in the mountains. Those claiming such are deluded or charlatans. Ancient texts confirm that mind speech is only possible in close proximity. Man had tried many times to once again find the caves of the Wisedogs, but entrances to those in Wisemount have long been collapsed.

Some have prophesied or speculated of the Wise One’s return. According to ancient texts derived from the Wise One’s memories, Wisedogs can live for centuries. It seems unlikely that the Wise One would still be alive today, at over 1000 years old, but perhaps he may be. Even if he did return, civilization is in a much different shape than it was when he left. Mind speech could help establish a better understanding of people’s thoughts, but written texts and the scientific method have long since proven superior to memory.

The Wise Man fell soon after he arose. Initially, for a short while, the Council tolerated him. Soon, his influence over the valley people began to rival that of the Council. The Council outlawed his movement and threatened repercussions if they continued. The Wise Man was widely derided in Heaven’s Sanctuary and the settlements along the lower part of Heaven River on Heaven’s Peninsula.

From their council chambers in Sanctuary, the Polity ruled with an iron fist — not that they have grown much softer since then. The Wise Man was undeterred. He believed faith in the Wise One and his own religious authority would guide his followers to a new golden age. His followers refused their work assignments and followed the Wise Man instead. The Council sent out a detachment of soldiers to arrest him and his followers, which had grown to the thousands. They fled to the mountains.

The Wise Man instructed his disciples to build a temple at the top of Wisemount, an absurd proposition. Most explorers never make it to its summit. However, his disciples listened to him and followed through. They were unsuccessful, of course. None made it back. All of them died — thousands of them, including the Wise Man. They believed the temple would help strengthen his mind bond with the Wise One. The Wise Man’s death did not stop his movement…

Throughout the 700s, more people in the valley turned to worshipping the Wise Man and the Wise One. Some people in the settlements of the peninsula even started worshipping them. The Council, terrified of the prospect of another colossal loss of labour, outlawed all public displays of worship. Anyone attempting to lead a new congregation was sentenced to death. Sometimes, their followers too, for good measure.

Even today, some still worship them. Some believers reject the messianic status of the Wise Man, while others embrace him. The influence, while diminished and unorganized, still remains. Ironically, the Council ordered the construction of the Temple of Wisdom in the 900s on the outskirts of the mountains. Officially a museum honouring the legacy of the Wise One and the founders of Heaven’s Sanctuary, many believers still use it today as a place of pilgrimage.

Faith and superstition are stronger in the Upper City in the valley, where most of the descendants of the conquered tribes reside. Poverty is also greater there than in the Lower City. It is time-consuming and labour-intensive to transport resources up and down the falls. The Council has tasked the Works Guild with constructing a system of elevators utilizing the kinetic energy of the falls. So far, it remains unrealized. Watermills are all along the Heaven River. However, the Council believes the greatest potential for energy lies in Heaven Falls.

The more I think of home and all the possibilities there, the more I wish I never went on this voyage… Not that I had any choice in the matter. Incentives offered by the Council serve only as insurance. If any of the crew had refused their orders, the Council would ensure their regret for their disloyalty. Slavery may have ended when the last tribes were defeated, but one’s occupation has seldom been one’s choice.

The needs of the Polity override those of the individual. Even before the conquests, the Council ruled successfully since the founding of Heaven’s Sanctuary. It is their continued success, prescribed in the Heaven’s Mandate, that legitimizes their perpetual reign.

Thank you for reading

This story is the third scene of “The Gorge,” the third short story in Schizoid Nightmares Anthology I. The previous scene is available here. The next scene is available here.

[twistedtranslations]

Kalim Al Asim - Master Chef

You can unlock this story by getting Kalim’s SR Master Chef

Translation under the cut

Chapter 1

Cafetaria - Judging Venue

A little while before the cooking preparations start-

Kalim: Chef! Please take care of me!

Trey: Well, aren’t you excited?

Ghost chef: He certainly is. Were you perhaps looking forward to the Master Chef program?

Kalim: Yeah! I’ve always been told that “I’m not allowed to use kitchen knives or stoves because they’re dangerous”. That’s why I pretty much never cooked before. But they gave me the okay because a professional is instructing me today! So I’m super excited to try some real cooking!

Ghost chef: S-So, they forbid you to touch knives and stoves? You must’ve grown up in quite an overprotective household. Nevertheless, I am elated that you were looking forward to this program so much! I am eager to teach you. Let me list the meals we’re going to make today.

Kalim: We’re going to make biryani, right?

Ghost chef: Yes. Biryani is a seasoned rice with meat and all kinds of ingredients and spices. We steam curry and rice together, alternated on top of each other in layers. Originally it was a dish of the royal court, and is served a lot at festivals~

Kalim: That’s great! Seems like a perfect dish to welcome guests with.

Trey: Hey Kalim. I have one question… You’re always hosting the banquets. Have you never worked behind the scenes? If you never did, I understand why you wouldn’t know how to cook on purpose but…

Kalim: Now that you say it, Jamil always takes care of the preparations, not me. But this time I know that it’s the host's job to cook the meals to entertain the guests at the banquet. Seeing a chunk of meat roast in front of you, cutting stuff up… I really wanted to try it myself!

Trey: I see. So that’s why you took up Master Chef.

Kalim: Yeah. I can entertain more guests by learning more ways to delight them. By the way, you’re in charge of making the sweets at Heartslabyul’s tea parties, aren’t you? You seem like an expert at receptions, so if you have any secrets, please tell me.

Trey: I don’t think you should use our Unbirthday parties as reference. It’s basically just a gathering of people of our own. It’s different from your parties with guests from all over. And even if you were to use it as a reference… Don’t you want to try making sweets for divided preferences?

Kalim: Huh! So you do it like that. I just want to make everyone eat whatever I like… But yeah, there probably are some people who don’t like peculiar tasting herbs. I realized that next time I hold a feast, I should have a menu that everyone loves and not only ornate dishes. I just want to please as many people as I can!

Ghost chef: Indeed, the guests’s wishes are most important for hospitality. I too stand in the kitchen every day to see the smiles of our students. But enough chattering. It’s about time to cook!

Kitchen

Ghost chef: Kalim, there are enough ingredients to make this recipe three times. In the unlikely event that you fail, we’ll be fine. Relax and enjoy the process.

Kalim: Gotcha! I’ll do my best!

Ghost chef: First, we should cut the ingredients. I’ll have you cut the ginger, garlic, onions and tomatoes. Let’s start with the tomato. Put the flat side on the chopping board. That makes it easier to cut.

Kalim: The flat side… Like this?

Ghost chef: Yes! Now you take the knife with your dominant hand. Hold the tomato down with your other hand so it won’t move when cutting. Put the knife in front of you and press down the middle, while moving back and forth to cut it. Try to use big movements instead of force.

Kalim: Softly with big movements… Wow, I cut the tomato in half!

Ghost chef: Yes, well done! Continue cutting it like that.

Ghost chef: Okay, we finished cutting everything. Next up is…

Kalim: Hm? Hey, chef. There are still some uncut ingredients on the table, can’t we use them?

Ghost chef: Those were just spares in case you failed. You can add ingredients to your preference if you want to?

Kalim: Really? I’m going to use everything!

Ghost chef: E-Everything!? That’s about three times more than the recipe calls for. If you do that our next step might become problematic… Are you sure?

Kalim: Yeah. The more ingredients, the more our guests can eat to their heart's content. Okay, I’m cutting the rest!

Ghost chef: We have now finished cutting up all the spares. Next up is a vital part of biryani’s flavor… the curry! First, heat oil in a saucepan. Stir-fry the green cardamom, clove and cinnamon.

Kalim: Gotcha. ...Ah, wait! You know, I think it’d be splendid if we add more spices, considering we also added more ingredients.

Ghost chef: Right. If you added three times the ingredients, we should also add three times the spices…

Kalim: Great! Okay I’m adding all the spices!

Ghost chef: What?

/Pouring noise

Ghost chef: (H-HE POURED IN ALL THE SPICES~~!)

Kalim: Hahaha! I’m sure this will turn out great with all these ingredients and spices! Let’s continue cooking!

Chapter 2

Cafetaria - Judging Venue

Ruggie: Lalalalala~ Man, bein’ chosen as judge is so great for my food expenses. I’m so looking forward to it. I can already smell the aromas from the kitchen… BLERGH!! T-This intense smell… are those spices!? What the heck happened there!?

Kalim: Hey, Ruggie! So you’re the judge. That’s great! I got some biryani to serve.

Ruggie: No… I have to judge Kalim’s food…

Kalim: Here you go, bon appétit.

Ruggie: Bon appétit, he says… wait, why is there a mountain spilling off this large plate!? How many servings are there!?

Kalim: Uh, I used all the spare ingredients… I wonder how many servings there are? Anyway, it was a huge pot!

Ruggie: O-Okay. (Just as I expected, this seems spicy…) But not eating it would be a waste… I just gotta dig in!

/Chomp

Ruggie: HHHHHHHOOOOOT!! This is too spicy! Is this a punishment!?

Kalim: A-Ah? I wanted you to eat your fill, so I put in a lot of ingredients but did I overdo it? … Ruggie! You’re dripping in sweat after only one bite of the biryani! Hm… and Trey even told me that thinking about the preferences of the guests is important in hospitality. If you don’t like biryani I should just serve another…

Ruggie: ABSOLUTELY NOT!!! Eatin’ what’s served is my creed. Even if I take it home, I’ll finish it! I’m very happy that there are so many ingredients… I’ll be fine, I’ll eat it!

Kalim: H-Hey. This is the first time you made such a cornered expression!? To think I made such an inedible thing for you to persist like that… Sorry, Ruggie! I’m not used to cooking…

Ghost chef: Oh, calm down, you two! It’s fine to remake it instead of being pessimistic.

Kalim: If it weren’t that spicy you should be able to enjoy it right!?

Ruggie: Now that’s a wonderful idea!

Kalim: Okay, let me make something that you won’t regret! But how should I remake it?

Ghost chef: Right, how about this?

/Placing cutlery down

Ruggie: Hmpf… I’m so full! I’m satisfied! And the way you wrapped the spicy biryani in an omelet like omurice, and how you stewed it in coconut milk. That got me. Kalim, your do-overs were all amazing.

Kalim: Great! What a relief.

Ruggie: By the way, can I take the leftovers home?

Kalim: Of course!

Ruggie: Shshshs. I won’t have to worry about food for a few days with these!

Kalim: … While the biryani was a failure, I still learned a lot of skills and satisfied Ruggie. Thank you, chef!

Ghost chef: You’re welcome. Kalim, you honestly have a lot of potential. I want you to continue challenging your cooking.

Kalim: Really? I’ll do my best to learn many more recipes to please my guests!

Ruggie: Wait there, I think you should taste it as well...

[archived-kin]

late with lucifer

note from kin: i just realised that the title sounds like a talk show ffs

anyway get ready to get SAPPY (and also get ready for a low-key out of character lucifer)

fandom: obey me!

character(s): gn! reader, lucifer, satan, beelzebub, belphie

pairing(s): lucifer/reader

warning(s): brief existential dread right at the end but i think it’s relatively light

genre: fluff all the way (with maybe a teensy bit of angst???? i accidentally got kinda deep towards the end)

Deciding to commit yourself to a bona fide workaholic music nerd who would sooner chop his own hand off than skip a single working day for potentially the rest of eternity has been... a choice and a half, to say the least. Yes, he’s a sweetheart most of the time, and you love him more than possibly any being in the known universe (though jury’s still out on cats and the dragon you met a couple of months ago who brings you giant mouthfuls of leaves every weekend), but you’d be lying if he didn’t have qualities that make you want to drop kick some sense into him sometimes. And one of those qualities happens to be his absolute refusal to just take a damn break.

“Just one more hour,” He keeps telling you whenever you ask him if he’s finally finished with his mountain load of paperwork. “One more hour, and then we can spend some time together.”

It has been five hours since Lucifer went to his study to ‘get a bit of work done’. Five hours of attempting to finish the mountain of books Satan has recommended you in the corner of the library, probably irritating the poor guy to no end with your constant restless shifting. You're surprised that he hasn’t up and left to go read in his room in peace - then again, it’d be hypocritical of him to tell you off for moving about. You’d think a bookworm like him would be so absorbed by his beloved books that he wouldn’t be able to move at all, but he fidgets about so much when he’s reading that you’re surprised he hasn’t somehow worn a hole through his favourite armchair yet. At any rate, you’re pretty sure you can see him getting ready to flip himself upside down for the seventh time this evening in the corner of your eye.

You try once again to focus on the lucrative business deal happening in Chapter 52 for the fourth time in the last ten minutes, but your brain just doesn’t seem to be listening to you right now; no matter how hard you try to register what’s going on, the words just don’t want to be processed. Finally, checking the clock on the wall for what feels like the hundredth time this evening, you decide that you might as well go bother your busy bee upstairs. It’s been at least a fortnight since you’ve been able to spend a full evening or night with him, and, if you’re honest, it’s beginning to get a little on your nerves.

Satan barely looks up from his book as you hop to your feet and begin making your way out, though he does lift a hand to wave a brief goodbye. Contrary to your prediction, he has not flipped himself upside down, but is now sitting the wrong way around on his armchair instead, facing the seat’s back, with his book carefully balanced on its head. Unconventional, but you’ll give him credit for the creativity.

The House of Lamentation is oddly quiet for a Friday night, but you’d guess that’s because Asmo and Mammon, the two loudest members of the house, have taken it upon themselves to celebrate the arrival of the weekend by going out for the night and probably blowing their savings in the process. Well, Asmo will be blowing his savings - Mammon will most likely find a way to put his spendings on one of his other brother’s tabs, or worse, yours. Then again, you don’t buy things often, so you suppose you can spare a bit of cash. (Knowing Mammon, though, he’ll probably buy enough to put you in debt for the rest of your life.)

On your way through the corridor, you’re struck by a sudden idea. Lucifer’s been shut in his study ever since he got home from the R.A.D., which means he most likely won't have eaten anything. At any rate, you know for a fact he wasn’t there for dinner with everyone else, which means you now have a much better excuse for going to see him other than just wanting to. Lucifer may be a stubborn demon, but he's never been able to resist a mug of tea and some biscuits on long nights when it's you offering them.

Beel is rustling about in the snack cupboard when you slip into the kitchen - no surprises there, but it is a little odd that he’s going for the lighter foods rather than something more filling. You'd comment on why he's down here so late into the night - he should really be in bed - but then again, it's Beel. He'd listen to his stomach over his brain any day of the week.

“Oh, hey,” He greets as he retreats from the cupboard with an armful of what look like several cookie boxes stacked on top of each other. “Did you get hungry as well?”

You shake your head and pull two mugs out of the crockery cabinet. “Nope. Just thought I’d bring Lucifer some tea and biscuits, you know?”

“He’s been in his office for ages,” Beel agrees with an earnest nod. He glances down at the heap of cookies in his arms, then pauses. “Ah… here.”

You look up as you fill the kettle with water to see him holding one of the boxes in his arms out to you.  “...what’s this for?”

“There aren’t any biscuits left in the cupboard,” He says by way of explanation, shaking the box he’s offering to indicate that you should take it. “So you can have these.”

“Aw, you don’t have to do that, Beel!” You gently push the box back towards him and give his arm a fond pat. “I’ll just bring him something else. Go ahead and eat the cookies, okay?”

On any other occasion, Beel would most likely have accepted your offer without hesitation (the day that Beel rejects food will probably never come, but you have a sneaking suspicion that a black hole would rip this reality apart if it does), but it must have been a really good day for him in terms of being fed, because he actually continues to try to give you the box. You’re tempted to coo at the big softie’s uncharacteristic generosity, but you’re not particularly sure how that would go over with him. If being in a relationship with Mr Pridey McPrideface upstairs has taught you anything, it’s that you can never take a reaction for granted.

“No, you have it,” Beel insists, shifting so that he doesn’t drop the rest of his biscuits and stubbornly attempting to shove the box into your hands. “I’ve got plenty right here.”

Your surprise must show on your face, because a moment later he smiles a little sheepishly and adds, “I promise I’m not sick or anything. I’ve still got lots right here. One box won’t make that much of a difference.”

You think it over for a moment as the kettle begins to bubble aggressively behind you. You’re a staunch believer in the fact that one should never deprive Beel of his food, partially because he’s an absolute sweetheart who deserves the food he eats, and partially because something bad could and probably would happen if said food is taken from him. Then again, you’re not taking the food from him, strictly speaking - he’s the one offering it to you. That exempts you, right? At the very least, you have a counter-argument if Belphie tries to persecute you for taking his beloved twin brother’s biscuits. (He probably wouldn’t - the kid adores you - but it’s good to be prepared for possible trials.)

“Ah, fine...” You eventually relent and allow Beel to press the box into your hands. Your compliance is well worth it - the beam on his face and the little pat he gives the box in your hands in satisfaction could probably cure multiple strains of cancer. “You’re the sweetest, you know that?”

He flushes slightly. “I-it’s not that big of a deal…”

“Oh, that’s nonsense,” You tell him firmly over your shoulder, beginning to busy yourself with the teabags and sugar as the kettle hisses to a halt. “Personally, I think I’m going to remember it for the rest of my life.”

You smile to yourself as Beel laughs a little bashfully behind you. “Thanks…”

“No problem, bub,” You reply, pausing in your work to turn around and shoot him a wink. “Hey, chuck me a spoon, would you?”

He nods and does just that - literally. He throws the spoon across the kitchen with such precision that it lands perfectly in your outstretched hand.

You thank him and begin to pour the hot water into Lucifer’s mug. He says that he likes his tea as is, without any bells or whistles or fancy additions, but you’ve been doing this thing for long enough that you know that he actually prefers his tea with a teaspoon of honey and just a splash of lemon. He just refuses to actually say it out loud.

(To be honest, you’re not sure why he does that - does he think tea with honey and lemon is a wimpy drink or something just because you told him it’s often drunk as a remedy for a sore throat in the human world? Knowing the way his mind works, it’s probably something along those lines, but still, it’s a weird conclusion to make.)

You finish preparing Lucifer’s tea quickly - you’ve done this so many times that the movements have become second nature to you at this point - and start making your own. The drinks are finished a minute or so later, and with that you begin setting up your little snack tray.

After a moment’s debate, you decide that today is worth going the extra mile, and start to carefully arrange the biscuits on a pretty plate.  It’s a bit of a hassle to get them into the right formation, but it’ll be well worth it once you get them to their intended receiver - Lucifer always gets the fondest little smile on his face when you bring him his biscuits in patterns, and that man doesn’t smile nearly enough for your taste. Personally, you’d quite like it if he smiled like that all the time, but then again, their rarity is what makes them so precious to you.

Ah - you’re starting to get sappy again. That’s a surefire sign that you haven’t spent enough time with your beloved demon lately. Well, it’s a good thing you’re going to see him now, isn’t it?

The door to Lucifer’s study is still as tightly shut as it was five hours ago when you approach it, but you doubt he’s actually locked it. He’s stopped doing that ever since your visits while he works became a regular thing - he hasn’t said it out loud yet, but you know that it’s his way of showing you that you’re always welcome to come in.

Unlocked as it is, though, you can’t exactly turn the doorknob to let yourself in. You’re a human of many talents, but being able to balance a heavy tray in one hand is not one of them. Lucifer’s tea wouldn’t make into his study - it’d just end up all over the floor.

“Lucifer!” You call softly through the door, mindful that he might be having another one of his work-induced headaches, “I’ve brought you some tea! Open up!”

For a while, the only reply is silence. You know there shouldn’t be any reason for him to be, but you can’t help but worry briefly if Lucifer’s somehow angry at you. Then again, Lucifer’s always liked to play the fashionably late card against you - whether to tease you or to disguise something, you’ll never know.

It turns out that your little worry was unfounded - a few moments later, the door swings open to reveal your favourite demon in all his exhausted-looking glory. Lucifer, who looks like the physical manifestation of work burnout, offers you a tired smile, and stands back to let you enter.

(Here’s a little secret - Lucifer would never tell you this, but he’d perked up like a kid when candy is offered the moment he heard your voice. Still, gotta put up the cool front, right? Even if that means waiting restlessly right next to the door for a minute so that you don’t think he’s over-eager…)

“Thank you.” He murmurs as you bring the tray over to his desk and set it down on one of the few patches of wood that aren’t covered by papers.

You dramatically pretend to swipe sweat from your forehead as if you’ve just finished a ten-mile run and shoot a smile up at him. “All in a day’s work, love.”

He smiles softly and leans in to gently press a kiss to the crown of your head. His pale cheeks have darkened slightly - Lucifer’s always been a softie when it comes to the host of sappy nicknames you’ve given him. One gentle ‘sweetheart’ and he’s melting like an ice cube on a hot day. It’s the sort of thing that people like Mammon and Levi would probably call gross or something, but you honestly couldn’t really care less about that. It’s not harming anyone else and it makes both of you happy, so why shouldn’t you give your lover as many endearing pet names as you can come up with?

“What even is all this?” You ask, peering at the papers scattered across the desk as Lucifer moves over to have a look at the plate of biscuits. You look up just in time to spot the way his eyes light up slightly when he sees the flower you've arranged them into.

“This and that,” He replies vaguely, hovering a single gloved hand uncertainly over the plate, as if trying to decide which biscuit he can take without spoiling the pattern.

“That’s hardly an answer at all,” You complain, plucking three broken quills from among the documents and waving them at him. “Why do you keep using these? A pen would be way more efficient.”

“Official documents should be written in the traditional way,” Lucifer tells you. He takes his time chewing the biscuit he’s finally chosen before continuing. “And Diavolo prefers quill and ink calligraphy to look at.”

“Honestly…” You round the edge of the desk and reach up to brush some powdered sugar from the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to do absolutely everything according to him.”

Lucifer blinks down at you, lips parting slightly in half awe and half surprise as you smile at him. “Ah…”

His smile widens slightly, and he gazes at you with so much fondness in his eyes that you almost feel a little weak at the knees at the very sight. Lucifer really is a dangerous demon - in more ways than one.

“Well, c-come on, then,” You prompt him abruptly, not wanting him to realise how much his gaze has affected you, because you just know it’s going to give him an ego boost. He pauses in surprise as you start tugging him over to the big armchair beside the fire - the one that the both of you can fit snugly into together. “Let’s have a drink together.”

“I still have papers to fill out—” He attempts to say, but cuts himself off as you shake your head and stubbornly attempt to push him down into the seat. It doesn’t work - Lucifer’s much stronger than you, after all - but he does at least seem to appreciate the effort.

“You’re taking a break whether you like it or not,” You insist, starting to smack lightly at his arms in an bid to get him to listen to you. “Papers can wait. I’m more important.”

That does get a little chuckle out of him, and he finally relents, sitting down with a subtle sigh. “That goes without saying.”

You laugh, suddenly a little more hot around the collar than you’d have liked. “You said it!”

Pausing to retrieve the tray with the tea and biscuits and set it on the table beside the armchair, you quickly join Lucifer in front of the fire, snuggling in at his side and letting out a blissful sigh as you feel him start to draw circles on your arm with his fingers. It’s a sort of habit that he’s developed over the last few months - you’re not sure if he even realises that he’s doing it.

The two of you stay like that in comfortable silence for several minutes. Lucifer’s tense shoulders relax more and more with each passing moment, and soon enough, he’s sprawled out against you, pressing his cheek lovingly into the crown of your head. 

It’s only at moments like this that you get to see this softer version of him, so you always cherish it when it happens. Lucifer may be a slightly passive-aggressive panther who could kill most beings with a swipe of his hand if he sees fit, but, every now and then, he’s a sleepy panther who’ll roll over and let you scratch behind his ears.

Conversation is usually sparse at times like this - the two of you are content enough in each other’s presence that you don’t really need to make small talk. Today, however, Lucifer seems to have something he wants to vent about.

“Belphie has been missing a lot of his homework again lately,” He murmurs. You make a noise of affirmation to indicate that you’re listening, staring at the mugs of tea sitting on the table and pondering whether the two of you will actually manage to part for long enough to drink them.

“Is it anything important?” You ask after a moment, playing absent-mindedly with his left hand. He doesn’t make any move to stop you as you mess about with his slender fingers, so you assume that he doesn’t mind.

“Mostly essays,” He replies, shifting slightly and letting out a quiet sigh. “He’s never liked writing them, but he hasn’t had so many missing before.”

You make a thoughtful sound. Now that you think about it, wasn’t Belphie confiding in you about this the other day?

“It’s just hard to sit down and concentrate sometimes, especially when I’m always so tired,” You remember him saying resignedly over hot chocolate and marshmallows. “It’s not like I don’t want to turn all my homework in on time. Sometimes I just can’t.”

“Well, you shouldn’t force yourself to do them, either,” You’d replied, giving his shoulders a sympathetic pat. “Needs over school of course. If you need to sleep more, then sleep more - if you feel like you can’t write the essay, then don’t write the essay. I’ll talk to Lucifer if he gets mad at you.”

He’d given you a grateful smile then, and turned back to his hot chocolate with a marginally brighter look on his face.

“Belphie’s been having a lot of nightmares lately, so he isn’t getting as much sleep,” You say slowly. “I told him to go ahead and take as many naps as he has to. His needs are more important than schoolwork, after all.”

Lucifer takes a long while to answer, but you don’t mind. It’s only fairly recently that he’s really come to terms with the idea that he doesn’t need to be so hard on his brothers - that it’s okay to put their comfort before whatever image of respectability he’s trying to keep up for Diavolo. The change has been somewhat jarring, according to Satan, but it’s not an unwelcome one, and you’ll gladly take responsibility for it with your constant reminders and careful explanations that Lucifer’s younger brothers have their own problems that he needs to give more leeway for.

“...did he come to talk to you about this?” He asks finally.

“Yeah.” You can’t see his face, but you can practically hear the frown beginning to pinch at his brows. “I know it might not seem like it sometimes, but he does want to make you proud. He’s never wanted to disappoint you.”

He takes a deep breath and releases it with a low hum. “...Belphie has never disappointed me.”

“Seems that he doesn’t realise that sometimes, though,” You sigh, tracing the seams of his glove with your index finger. “He’s a good kid, really.”

Lucifer doesn’t give a verbal reply, but he does hum again. You shift slightly and turn to look up at him; he looks back at you with sleepy, half-lidded crimson eyes. “Take it easy on him, okay?”

He gazes at you in contemplative silence for a long while, blinking slowly like an affectionate cat. Finally, he nods, and you beam proudly, dipping your head to rest on his chest, carefully positioning yourself so that his buttons don’t dig into your cheek.

“I’ll speak to his teachers,” He says quietly. “We should be able to arrange something.”

You smile against the fabric of his waistcoat, taking his hand in yours and giving it a squeeze. “That’s progress. I’m proud of you.”

He doesn’t respond, but you know full well that he loves it when you say that to him. He didn’t in the early days of your relationship, mostly because he’d thought you were patronising him, but now that the two of you are so much more familiar with each other, he’s learnt to recognise that you don’t mince words; you say what you mean, and you mean what you say. Which is exactly why, as the Avatar of Pride, he absolutely loves it when you tell him that you’re proud of him.

Lucifer himself is deep in thought. Struck by a sudden warmth spreading through him, quite independent of the crackling fire before him, he wraps his arms around you, resting his cheek against your head. It’s at moments like these, when you’re so close to him, that he realises just how fragile humans like you are.

It terrifies him sometimes, knowing that the unforgiving march of time means that you cannot be with him forever. One day you will leave, and you will grow old and fade away without him, because, no matter how much he wishes otherwise, you belong to a different realm. You are not a demon, and he is not a human; your worlds can collide briefly, for a single, beautiful moment, but then they will continue to move in their own orbit - and perhaps they will never meet again.

Some would say that, for this reason, he never should have fallen in love in the first place. Relationships like yours have always had a sort of taboo, even in the Devildom, because all beings are not created equal; humans have such short, meaningless lifespans compared to demons and angels, such little power, always depending on leaders and faith in a deity that they cannot prove the existence of. That is what demons tend to think of humanity, and until he’d met you, Lucifer had felt similarly.

But your life has been anything but meaningless, and the power you hold over him and his brothers is far stronger than any amount of potent magic that any being holds. The seven lords of the Devildom would lay waste to all three realms should anything happen to you. 

Lucifer had never thought that he had the ability to love so deeply and so purely, but then again, he’d also never thought that a human like you could exist. It seems that he’s been wrong about a lot of things, and he can only pray that he will be wrong in his prediction of how this will end.

But you’re with him now, curled up against him with a content smile on your face. For now, you’re here, and while you are, Lucifer doesn’t want to waste time on worries.

Your story is yet to reach its ending, and if Lucifer knows anything, it’s that he will stay by your side until then. As long as your worlds are still connected, he will continue to love you, and he will love you long after your worlds separate again.

He’s sure of it.

[potatoes-is-are-food]

Made For Each Other [Part 1]

~4500 words (I may have gone a little overboard I just really love poly erasermic)

Yandere erasermic x reader / soulmate au 

| NSFW warnings: noncon, threesome, vague threats of violence

I’m gonna be putting this into parts (I’m thinking around 3?)

The first few weeks had been especially bad. Waking up with a chain connecting you to the floor in a bed that wasn’t yours in clothes that weren’t yours had been terrifying. You’d been scared of your captor, Shota Aizawa, to the point of tears at first, but now you were sitting on a barstool in his kitchen watching him make dinner.

“Hizashi is coming back tomorrow. You’ll have to get used to him being around, too,” he said, capturing your attention away from the book he’d given you, “He’s loud and excited to see you, but I’ll try to keep him calm.” You nodded when he looked at you, turning back to adjust something on the stove. You weren’t allowed all the way in the kitchen yet, but he said if you behaved you’d be able to soon.

“Wait, Present Mic? Why is he coming here?” You asked when he didn’t elaborate.

“He’s my husband,” he answered flatly. You furrowed your brow, but didn’t question it out of politeness. You nearly laughed at yourself aloud, worrying about being polite to someone who literally kidnapped you.

It had been on your way home from work. You got off the train at your usual station but much later than usual, having to stay late that day. Walking home didn’t seem too dangerous since you lived in a safe area, but that had been a terrible decision. Before you could process what was happening someone had come up behind you, dragged you into an alley while you kicked and attempted to scream, and been shoved to the pavement.

You’d taken some hard hits from your assailant when Eraserhead saved you, tying the guy who attacked you to the dumpster and scooping you up just as you lost consciousness. The newspaper you’d seen the other day said you were missing and there were no leads. There was a separate article about how a vigilante had tied some petty criminal to a dumpster but he still died from his injuries. How convenient.

Realizing you’d been staring at the same page for several minutes, you sighed and closed your book. You set it on the counter and leaned back, boredly swinging your legs and listening to the music Shota had put on. You didn’t recognize it, but every now and then he would hum along for a second.

He set a plate in front of you and handed you a glass of water, watching you carry both to the couch and taking his own to join you. It had become a routine in the last week that you’d both sit on the couch together and he’d put on something to watch while you ate. It was an unspoken agreement that you’d talk to him if he wanted and he wouldn’t touch you or stare you down.

You glanced at him, settling into the cushions and trying to relax. He still made you nervous, but he hadn’t done anything to hurt you, just threatened to chain you up again if you tried to get away, which you hadn’t. He scared you way too much to try before you knew you could get away with absolute certainty.

He settled on some sit-com you knew he didn’t care about, signaling he’d want to talk today. You moved your food around with a spoon (he wasn’t allowing forks or knives yet but also used a spoon in solidarity), waiting for him to say something. He didn’t.

“It’s good,” you said softly, fidgeting a bit awkwardly. His intimidating presence chilled you, making you want to subdue anger he probably didn’t even have. You quickly added, “Thank you.” He grunted in response, shuffling slightly closer to you.

“Y/n, eat all of that and drink all your water. I’ve been lenient until now but you’re going to have to eat more and stay hydrated now. You’re going to have rules now,” he said sternly, sliding your glass a little closer to you. Obediently you took a sip and another bite of your food, letting him continue as you chewed,

“You’re sleeping in my bed from now on,” he took a sip of his drink nonchalantly as you looked away, feeling blood rush into your face. The most he’d touched you was to pat your head a few days ago and that had made you jump. He continued, unaffected by your flustered disposition,

“I wanted to give you more time first so I won’t get mad if you slip up, but ‘Zashi coming home sooner than planned changes things,” he explained softly, bringing his hand up to stroke your hair. Your breathing sped up and you resisted the urge to get up and run.

“Why…” you breathed, finally looking at him with tear-filled eyes. One spilled down your cheek and his finger gently caught it, wiping it away.

“You can’t see it, but I’ve got a red string on my wrist attached to you and Hizashi. And he had our names on his arm. Didn’t you notice yours before now?” He arched a brow at you, watching as your eyes widened almost comically.

“I…” you thought back to when you first could see colors. You’d been young, only 12 when you’d been saved by Present Mic, but in all the chaos of the villain attack you couldn’t tell who was the cause and you were too young for it to matter. Your second mark was on the back of your neck, a timer counting down to when you’d meet your other soulmate. Since you couldn’t see it and had been preoccupied the past several weeks, you’d forgotten how close it was to hitting zero.

“We’re all made for each other, kitten,” his face had been slowly approaching yours as you’d had your epiphany, now centimeters away. More tears fell down your face, too shocked to move as he kissed them away. You couldn’t deny the pull you felt toward him, unconsciously leaning into his touch. He placed another kiss to the very edge of your lips and a final one to your forehead before leaning back, taking the plate you were very close to dropping and setting it on the coffee table.

“B-but then why-” your voice trembled and caught in your throat. You choked back a sob, clenching your hands in your lap. You felt sick, the dinner your soulmate had made threatening to come back up. Your head felt fuzzy, like you’d been drinking.

“We had to, sweetheart,” he cooed, wrapping an arm gently around your tense form, “you thought it was a good idea to walk home alone at night, your job was stressing you out, and you wrecked your car not too long ago. You need us to take care of you and getting attacked was the perfect opportunity,” he pushed some of your hair out of your face.

You crumbled, sobbing and letting him hold you, so desperate for comfort that you actually clung to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and crying into his neck. You couldn’t see it, of course, but he was smiling as he swiped his fingers soothingly along the timer on the back of your neck that would be at 00:00 forever.

When you calmed down he handed you your water, rubbing your back as you finished it and leaving you on the couch to take the dishes away. You sniffled and let him pick you up, carrying you into the bathroom and getting ready for bed together in a daze. You even let him change your clothes, settling into bed pliantly as you figured out that he probably put sedatives in the food.

The next morning you woke to Shota’s warmth pressed against your back, an arm slung around your waist. You sat up, nearly falling over again groggily. You turned to look at him and saw his eyes open, locking onto you instantly.

“Hey there,” he husked, his morning voice catching you off guard. You pursed your lips, scooting away from him slightly,

“Did you drug me, Aizawa?” You crossed your arms, moving to sit on top of the covers and create some distance. He groaned softly, sitting up,

“Don’t call me Aizawa.” His reminder made your face heat up. He’d let you get by with awkward “hey”s and tapping his shoulder, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t be doing that anymore.

“Did you?” You press, voice a little softer in an attempt to accommodate him. He blinked at you, waiting. You relented, “...Shota?” His expression softened.

“I couldn’t have you running off. Besides, you needed a good night’s sleep. I know you’ve been tossing and turning,” he shrugged, stretching and standing up. You took his hand when he extended it to you, still a little “softened” by whatever he’d dosed you with.

He lead you into the bathroom he’d been having you use, completely idiot-proofed with no way to hurt yourself or anyone else or an escape route. And with all that he still made you keep the door open, doing stuff on his phone while you did whatever you had to do. You saw him pull up a messaging app as you entered, running the shower and stripping, shyly glancing at him often to reassure yourself he wasn’t watching.

When you got out he gave you something new to wear, an actual dress instead of one of their shirts. You didn’t question where he’d gotten it, simply thanking him quietly and putting it on when he turned around to give you the illusion of privacy. He hadn’t given you anything to wear under it, though.

“Um, Shota?” You called, looking everywhere but directly at him. He turned around, looking you over and giving your head a pat. You shuffled your bare feet awkwardly, “Can I have something to wear under it?” His hand rested on your waist lightly, eyes roaming your figure leisurely.

“I’ll have to go out and buy you some. Hizashi bought this a while ago when we figured out your identity,” he smiled, probably recalling a fond memory with his husband. Your other soulmate. You really didn’t want to admit it, but it felt nice that someone had been so excited to meet you that they’d gotten you a gift.

He made breakfast, insisting for the first time that you sit on his lap to eat. The day was mostly uneventful, you read and Shota let you make tea while he supervised. By six you were sitting at the bar in front of the kitchen, watching him chop vegetables.

You almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the door open, Shota eyeing you to make sure you wouldn’t try to run.

“Babe?” You heard Hizashi call, recognizing his voice easily from all the times you’d listened to him since you’d been there and even before.

“In here,” Shota called back, still tending to dinner. You looked at him for direction but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care to give it. Footsteps sounded behind you and you spun in your stool, facing your other soulmate for the first time since he’d saved you as a child. He dropped his bags, keys, and a water bottle he’d been holding, jaw dropping as he stared at you.

“Sho you didn’t,” he breathed, and for the briefest of moments you thought he’d be against this and rescue you again, but that was not the case.

“Happy anniversary,” Shota appeared, pulling the blonde in for a kiss. Hizashi tore his eyes from you and cupped the other man’s face as he repeated the expression. They really looked in love.

“She’s even more beautiful in person!” He beamed, closing the distance between you so fast if you’d blinked it would have seemed like he teleported. He immediately pressed his lips to yours, holding you tightly as you weakly struggled, tugging his sleeves and making muffled protests against his mouth.

“’Zashi, calm down, I haven’t trained her and I’ve barely touched her,” Shota placed a hand on his shoulder and he pulled away, leaving you panting and slightly panicked in his grasp.

“Aw, come on, Sho,” he whined, continuing to hold you against him, “She seems like a good girl she probably barely needs any training,” his hand stroked your hair and he pressed his cheek against the top of your head. You gave Shota a wide eyed look,

“Trained?” You asked nervously, squirming a little in Hizashi’s arms. Shota’s tired expression morphed into something more devious, the corner of his lips twitching up,

“We need to be sure you’re not gonna run off on us, kitty,” he cooed, “We need to…” he paused, searching for the right word, “house train you, so to speak.” His tone made you nervous, shrinking into the arms holding you.

Shota pecked your cheek and returned to the stove, giving the food a stir and asking about Hizashi’s trip so casually you’d think he hadn’t just implied something sinister. Hizashi picked you up, sitting in your stool and pulling you into his lap as he chatted with his husband. You fiddled with the hem of your dress and vaguely wondered if they intended on getting a special license to add you into the marriage as they did for people with multiple soulmates. You really hoped things wouldn’t get that far.

A hand trailed along your thigh, massaging the soft flesh and making your dress ride up a bit. You shifted, pressing your knees tightly together and making sure it didn’t go too high as another settled on your waist, gently rubbing up and down, dangerously close to your breast. You were suddenly very aware of your lack of underwear, nipples pebbling and sticking out against the fabric. You shuddered.

“I picked this out for you, doll,” he said quietly, breath tickling your ear before he stooped and planted several light kisses on your neck, “Do you like it?” You writhed slightly, but stopped immediately when you heard his breath hitch and felt something stir under you.

“Please…” you whispered, trying to plead with him the way you had Shota, whose head snapped around to send you a look that had tears instantly welling in your eyes.

“Y’n,” he said, staring you down. You sniffled, brows knitting together as you fought a sob.

“It’s fine, Sho,” Hizashi said calmly, stroking your shoulder and kissing the top of your head, “sweet little girl just needs some guidance, isn’t that right?” his voice dripped condescension and he pinched your cheeks, chuckling lightly as his had whetted with tears.

Shota sighed, “Tell ‘Zashi you liked the dress,” he started plating the food, leaving Hizashi to comfort you. He seemed to enjoy the task, wiping your face and kissing your temple. You told him you liked the dress.

You let him dote on you, clamming up when his hands wandered to uninvited places. You were seated in his lap again in the dining room as you all ate, the two men making light conversation and Shota telling his husband how he’d kidnapped you and your progress from terrified mute to scared yet willing to seek comfort from your captors.

“She’s done well, overall. I think once we solidify things it’ll go even faster. We could probably start making wedding preparations by October,” Shota discussed you casually, like he was telling Hizashi about the weather. Like you weren’t there.

“Wedding...preparations?” You asked nervously, picking at your food with a fork for the first time since you’d been stripped of freedom.

“Of course,” he continued, giving you a slight smile, “you’re our soulmate.” They discussed plans to get you more clothes, making you tense as taking your measurements was discussed. When you finished dinner, Shota cleared the table and tended to the dishes, leaving you alone with Hizashi for some bonding time.

“And if you want, we could do a destination honeymoon,” he rambled, ignoring your borderline catatonic state as you stared off into space, sinking further and further into a mental space you didn’t understand. Wedding? Honeymoon? How long would it be before you’d be able to escape?

“You’re gonna overwhelm her,” Shota’s soothing voice came from behind. He patted your head when you turned to look at him, taking note of the way your eyes looked a little glossier than usual, “Come on, we should head to bed. You must be tired.”

Hizashi grabbed his bags, following as Shota took your hand and lead you back into the bedroom. You sat on the bed, yawning as you realized constantly being made to go to bed so early had you tired already. You expected them to toss you another big t shirt and a pair of sweats too tall for you, but instead Shota pulled you up so you were standing in front of them.

“Are we going to bed?” You eyed the dresser, unsure if they wanted you to choose or something. Hizashi snorted, working the buttons of his shirt open as Shota turned you around to unzip the back of your dress. He ran his hand down the bare skin of your back, sliding the fabric forward off your shoulders.

Your hands shot up, pinning the covering to your chest as your breathing sped up,

“Shota?” you looked back at him over your shoulder as he rubbed along your skin. He didn’t answer, pressing his lips to your shoulder and gently coaxing the dress down until it bunched around your ankles on the floor. Your lip trembled as you tried to cover yourself with your hands, arms crossing your chest.

“So pretty,” he murmured against your shoulder, sliding his hands up your sides and gently tugging at your arms. Tears spilled onto your cheeks as Hizashi joined, stripped to his boxer briefs, dropping to his knees in front of you. He kissed the center of your chest just below your breasts, hands settling on your hips. You shook your head,

“Please don’t,” you whimpered, “d-don’t look,” you crossed your legs, arms locked against your chest as Shota rubbed them, attempting to get you to drop them yourself.

“But you’re so beautiful, angel,” Hizashi spoke softly, trailing kisses down your stomach while Shota wiped your tears away and pulled you gently into a kiss. It was the first time you’d kissed him properly, and the sense of fulfillment that settled into your chest made you both gasp against each other, making you melt a little.

Hizashi’s lips trailed along your hips, not wanting to distract you from kissing Shota. When your mouths parted you felt warm, nearly sinking into his adoring gaze before remembering how he’d kept you chained, cold and alone as you screamed and cried in that room. He must have sensed your conflict, kissing you again before trailing down your neck and giving Hizashi’s jaw a little tap.

Lips departed your hips as the blonde stood, leaning down to kiss both your tear-stained cheeks and then your lips, the jolt from him significantly less intense thanks to him pouncing on you earlier. It still felt good, though, as much as you hated to admit it. His hands cupped your face and without thinking you placed yours over them. You felt Shota move lower, caressing your hips and kissing along your back, lingering where it dipped at your waist.

You squeaked, flinching away from Hizashi as you felt Shota’s hands kneading your ass, spreading and squeezing your cheeks. Your arms wrapped around Hizashi’s neck as you tried to wriggle out of the other man’s grasp. He chuckled, holding your hips still for his partner rather than helping. You whined, burying your face in his neck as fresh tears fell onto his skin. He rubbed a hand soothingly along your back as Shota continued, kissing and then biting the flesh.

You sniffled, breathing shakily and hard into Hizashi’s neck, fingers tangling in his loose hair. He shushed you like a child, hugging you close and nearly groaning at your breasts being pressed flush against his chest.

“Maybe we should’ve given her wine at dinner, Sho,” he said softly, brows furrowed as you sobbed softly on him, “She’s nervous, aren’t you love?” Gently, he pried your arms from around him, leaning back to look at you.

“She’ll be fine, taking both of us so close together will probably help a lot,” Shota stood, sweeping your legs and making you fall into his arms. He deposited you onto the bed, licking his lips and kissing you heatedly, lapping at the inside of your mouth. You groaned against him, holding onto his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself.

Hizashi tugged at Shota’s shirt, making him break your kiss to let him remove it. He straddled you, pressing his bare chest to yours and resuming his tongue’s exploration of your mouth. You whimpered, feeling him shifting atop you as Hizashi rid him of his clothes, placing a playful smack to his ass once it was bare. You felt his cock, hot and heavy, tap against your thighs, making you clench them together and sob against Shota’s lips.

He leaned back, wiping the trail of saliva that followed away, and crawled off of you. Settling behind you, he pulled you up into a sitting position so you rested against his chest, instantly grabbing and pinning your arms as you tried to cover yourself. He kissed your head, murmuring little praises as his husband pried your legs apart, settling between them to take in the view as close as possible. You writhed, Hizashi pinning your legs as you struggled, openly sobbing,

“Please don’t do this,” his face as he gazed at your twitching, wet pussy looked euphoric. He inhaled deeply, eyes rolling back at your scent.

“Sho, she smells good enough to eat. And she’s wet,” he smirked, swiping his finger along your slit and holding up the glistening digit for his accomplice. Shota groaned in your ear, trapping both your wrists in one hand and kneading at your breast with the other.

“Eat her, then,” he growled, husky voice making your back arched a little involuntarily.

Your soulmate obliged, not needing to be told twice as he closed the distance, flattening his tongue and smearing your juices up to your clit. You cried out, trying to wriggle away as he circled his tongue around the little bud. It was like he already knew how to make you tick, flicking his wet appendage along every spot that made you squirm and hitting your sweet spot the second his fingers penetrated you. In seconds you were moaning, tears drying on your face as you bucked your hips against him.

Shota flicked and toyed with your nipples, leaving your hands free. You reached up, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging it as the pleasure continued to build. You groaned his name and then Hizashi’s, occasionally still babbling for them to stop. Your orgasm sent waves of the most intense pleasure you’d ever felt jolting through your body, making you writhe and cry out as your soulmate lapped up your fluids.

You started to cry again as he continued past the point of pleasure and into painful territory, fingers leaving black locks to pull at blonde ones. He groaned, pumping his fingers faster and harder into your throbbing heat and flicking his tongue harshly against your overstimulated nub. You came again, muttering incoherently as he slowed to a stop, leaning back and wiping his face with a satisfied grin.

“She’s so cute,” his hand trailed up your thigh, “You should try,” he told Shota, watching your cunt twitch and chest heave.

“Later,” you looked up to see him licking his lips and watching you heatedly. You shuddered, sniffling as he wiped away a stray tear. Noticing Hizashi watching, you closed your legs, sitting up and bringing your knees to your chest.

“Are we done?” Your voice came out quiet and coarse, a little shaky as your eyes continued to flood. You bit your lip, looking between the men.

“Not quite, kitten,” Shota’s lips pressed to your back, working up between your shoulder blades and sucking when he reached your neck. He left several bites and hickeys as his husband cupped your face, kissing you softly and slipping his tongue past your lips. You whimpered against him as Shota abused the sweet spot on your collarbone, one hand on your thigh and the other in Hizashi’s hair.

He broke the kiss, planting another soft one on your forehead, “How did you hold back so long, Sho?” he breathed, nuzzling his face against your hair and sighing happily as Shota pecked his lips.

“Wanted to let you go first,” he murmured, kissing him again before readjusting you to the same position as before, resting against his chest with your wrists in his hands, “go ahead.”

Hizashi pulled your hips forward a touch, spreading your legs with his knee and spreading his pre against your weeping slit. His tip against your clit made you twitch, back arching as he toyed with the sensitive nerves. When he’d finished he lined up with your entrance, pressing in slowly to avoid overwhelming you.

Your mouth opened and your eyes clenched shut, head falling back against Shota as he pushed in, inch by inch sliding in until he was buried to the hilt and his hair pressed against you. He groaned sinfully, humping shallowly as you got used to his size. A choked sob left your throat as he started thrusting, pulling out nearly all the way and sliding back in as gently as he could manage when your cries made you pulse around him.

“You feel so good,” he panted, “Good girl,” his thrusts got rougher as he leaned forward, tongue slipping into your open mouth and swallowing your half-pained half-pleasurable moans. Shota let go of your wrists, stroking your hair as well as Hizashi’s as he took in the sight. With your arms free you desperately clung to the man pounding you into his husband, crying against his lips and swirling your tongue against his in a bizarre attempt at seeking comfort from him.

Shota’s fingers intruded on your kiss, collecting saliva from both of you and making it drip down your chins before moving the slicked digits to roll circles into your puffy clit. You gasped at the contact, eyes opening and rolling back into your head as the blonde broke the kiss, licking up the tears lingering on your cheeks. His hips sputtered, lewd squelching noises reverberating through the room as Shota continued his assault on your abused bead.

You came first, back arching, tongue flopped out of your mouth, eyes half-lidded and rolled up into your skull, head braced back against Shota’s chest as you spasmed, clenching around Hizashi’s cock and milking him for all he was worth. He released deep inside, cumming directly against your cervix and rolling his hips to hump against you, riding out both your orgasms. As it subsided, you fell limply against your dark-haired soulmate, completely spent and feeling as though you were floating, disconnected from reality. You felt hands caressing your thighs, hips, and gently pushing sweaty strands of hair from your face.

“...re so good for us,” you focused enough to take in their praises, still shaking as your cunt twitched and drooled Hizashi’s seed. You blinked a couple of times and saw him staring at it, reaching down to collect what was dripping and push it back in, making you whimper weakly. He licked his fingers clean and crawled over you to kiss Shota, both men shifting and gently readjusting you until you were pressed back against Hizashi’s chest. Shota settled between your legs, thumbs spreading your pussy apart for his inspection.

You felt fresh tears stinging your eyes, “Please… please no more,” you croaked, weakly squirming. He leaned down, kissing your inner thigh and inching closer to your fucked out hole.

“Shhh, kitten,” he gently licked up your folds, smearing Hizashi’s cum across your skin and making you flinch when the muscle flicked your overstimulated clit, “You can handle a little more for daddy, right?”

[the-himawari]

A3! Fushimi Omi - Translation [SR] Brilliance of Blooming (2/2)

*Please read disclaimer on blog; default name set as Izumi

---

Izumi: The preparations are ready, so shall we get started now?

Omi: Yeah, go ahead.

-pause-

Omi: Hello there. It’s MANKAI Company Autumn troupe, Fushimi Omi.

Comment: “Hello, Omi-kun~.”

Comment: “We were waiting!”

Omi: Oh, thanks for the views and comments right away. Now then, I’ve got some ingredients lined up so perhaps all of you can guess already… But I’m thinking I’ll cook in today’s stream.

Comment: “I wrote that in the survey so I’m glad!”

Comment: “What are you gonna cook?”

Omi: Today’s menu is okonomiyaki that you can make easily, even at home.

Comment: “It’s bound to be tasty!”

Omi: First, cut the cabbage. You can shred it too, but I’m chopping it coarsely this time.

Comment: “Such skillful handwork!”

Comment: “My eyes can’t help but go to Omi-kun’s arms.”

Omi: My arms…? Haha, I’ve never been told that before. Now then, after you’ve mixed together all the ingredients aside from the pork, it’s finally time to fry it. Place the pork belly on top to cover the dough and wait a bit. If this was the kitchen, then I’d recommend doing the dishes at this time.

Comment: “As said from someone who cooks all the time lol”

Comment: “The very picture of the ideal husband…”

Omi: It’s almost done. Alright let’s turn it over. Here we go—there!

Comment: “Perfect!”

Omi: Next, pour the sauce and add the toppings… and there you have it.

Comment: “👏👏👏👏👏”

Comment: “I’m hungry!”

Comment: “Are you gonna eat it by yourself?”

Omi: Oh, right. Eating it myself… Since it’s a nice chance, can I go find someone to eat it with together?

Comment: “It’s OK”

Omi: Looks like that’s a yes. Please wait a moment, everyone.

*leaves*

???: Woah, Omi-kun!

Omi: Perfect timing, Taichi.

Taichi: Aren’t you in the middle of your InsteLive right now… wait, I smell something super amazing!

Omi: That’s because I was just frying up okonomiyaki. Would you like to eat it together?

Taichi: For real!? Of course I’ll eat! Woo, lucky!

*comes back*

Omi: Sorry for the wait, everyone. I’ve brought a guest over.

Taichi: It’s Autumn troupe’s Nanao Taichi! I came to eat Omi-kun’s okonomiyaki~.

Comment: “It’s Taichi-kun!”

Comment: “We scored big with someone crashing the stream!”

Omi: Come on, dig in.

Comment: “We await Taichi-kun’s food report!”

Taichi: It looks delish! As expected of Omi-kun!

Omi: Haha, then let’s eat.

Taichi: Itadakimasu.

Comment: “How nice.”

Comment: “How’s the taste?”

Taichi: The dough is fluffy, the pork is crispy, and it’s super tasty!

Comment: “A legit food report lmao”

Comment: “Hey, feed us!”

Taichi: Omi-kun, a request came for you to feed them!

Comment: “Yeah! I wanna see you say, ‘ahhh’!”

Omi: “Ahhh”, huh…

Comment: “I long to be fed.”

Comment: “Please feed us.”

Taichi: That’s all the comments are saying!

Omi: …Okay, just once. A-ahhh… um, this is pretty embarrassing.

Option 1: “Thanks”

Comment: “Thanks for feeding us!”

Omi: Was that alright?

Comment: “It was perfect!”

Omi: I see. I don’t normally feed others, so I wasn’t confident… But it looks like I managed to fulfil the request. I’m relieved.

Comment: “Omi-kun’s a great person!”

Comment: “I want to support him.”

Option 2: “One more time”

Comment: “One more time!”

Omi: I said only once, remember? Also, it was pretty embarrassing, so please let me off the hook with that. Sorry.

Comment: “He’s bashful. So cute!”

Comment: “He’s always cool, so this feels fresh.”

Taichi: It was suuuuper nice! Everyone loved it!

Omi: That’s great then. Alright. I was told to take a picture of myself at the end, so allow me to take some shots.

Taichi: Omi-kun’s a professional photographer, so I’m sure they’ll turn out really great!

Omi: Haha. The bar has been raised, huh? If you say so, then I’ll try my best.

Taichi: The photos you take are always beautiful, so don’t worry!

Omi: I am going to upload a photo to MANKAI Company’s Inste later. Please wait a little until I post it. Alright, then my InsteLive will end here. I had fun. Thank you, everyone.

Taichi: Thanks~! See ya!

-pause-

Izumi: Great job, you two! The okonomiyaki looked delicious.

Omi: I’ll make one for you next time. Thank you too, Taichi.

Taichi: Same here. I enjoyed the meal!

Izumi: Alright then. Omi-kun, think about which photo you’ll post to Inste, alright?

-pause-

Izumi: Yep. All the pictures you took look great, Omi-kun. Have you decided which photo to upload?

Omi: Yeah. I talked it over with Taichi a bit, and I think I’ll choose this one.

Izumi: Great choice! Okay, shall we upload this photo to Inste?

Thank you for today. I’ll post the recipe too.

#Cooking #OkonomiyakiRecipe

Izumi: Ah, you got a comment right away! It says, “I had fun.”

Omi: “We had okonomiyaki at home tonight too,” huh? Haha, I’m glad.

Izumi: It looks like they enjoyed your stream.

Omi: Yeah. At first, I was worried whether everyone would have fun. But I’m glad I did it.

---

previous |

[itsallyscorner]

Hi!!!!!! Could I request a Bucky Barnes x reader? One where Bucky has grown his hair out insanely long due to being so busy and he never notices because he’s always putting it in a bun. Until he and the reader have a night alone ;) and they take his hair down only to realize how long it is, ending with Bucky racing to find scissors and chop his hair off back to his shoulders lol.

Omg yes! I love writing about Bucky and his luscious hair🥺 Thank you for the request love and being so patient, I’m so sorry it took so long! Happy reading💕

💌.

Hair Too Long

Warnings: a sprinkle of smut.

(Gif from Pinterest)

The amount of excitement and anticipation could be felt in his body as soon as he woke up. Bucky has never felt this way before, he just wanted to bounce off the walls from how jumpy he was feeling. You were finally coming home today. You have been away on almost a month’s long mission with Natasha, and you were finally coming back home today! Bucky had been at the tower with the rest of the team who weren’t on missions or were busy. He’s missed you terribly. His days seemed gloomier and the bed was lonely without you. Though it was quite embarrassing at how whipped he was for you, he could care less. Not only had he not been able to see you but he couldn’t even call or text you. He missed his babydoll. He missed your scent, your voice, your warm skin, even the way you would hog the blankets in the middle of the night. He couldn’t wait for you to come home. He just wanted to get in bed with you and hold you for as long as you’ll let him.

“Are they back yet?” Bucky entered the kitchen to be greeted by Steve and Sam. Sam was cooking breakfast while Steve used his IPad to look at the news. Sam spared a glance at Bucky but took a double take when he saw the super soldier’s attire.

“Um, no.” Sam slowly turned back to the pan, poking at the sizzling eggs.

Bucky had moved to sit beside Steve, who’s also noticed the way his friend was looking.

“Hey Buck, when was the last time you showered?” Steve kindly questioned his friend turning his iPad off.

“Or changed clothes?” Sam quickly added as he plated some bacon.

The two men weren’t oblivious to Bucky’s change of nature when you left for the mission. Bucky barely left his room, only leaving when he had to train, eat, or when someone needed him. Ever since you left for the mission he hasn’t joined Steve and Sam on their daily morning jog. He woke up late and would eat breakfast during lunchtime. Now here he was, long grown out hair sticking together due to the oil its collected over the last few days and wearing the same clothes he was wearing during the weekend. Today was Wednesday.

Bucky’s eyes panned at the two men in front of him, looking down at his clothes. “Uh, yesterday...”

“Bullshit.” Sam glared at Bucky before violently sliding a plate of eggs, bacon, and a stack of pancakes at him. Bucky turned his head to Steve who shook his head.

“I’m sorry Buck, but you’ve let yourself go ever since (y/n) left for her mission.” Steve shrugged as he took a piece of bacon from Bucky’s plate. Which earned him a smack on the wrist from Bucky’s bionic arm.

Steve yelped as he held his hands up in surrender, “It’s just an observation! Ever since she left you’ve been cooped up in your room every day. Buck, this is the most I’ve talked to you this whole month!”

Bucky sighed as he shoved a spoonful of scrambled eggs into his mouth, “Okay, maybe I have let myself go. I just miss her.” The dark haired man frowned at his bacon. You weren’t that big of a fan of bacon, instead you preferred sausage on the side of your eggs and pancakes.

Steve sent a look to Sam who just rolled his eyes at their lovesick friend.

“You know, if she ever finds out that this is what you become when she leaves, you’ll never hear the end of it.” Sam motions to Bucky’s clothes and hair.

“Would she really be mad?” Bucky asked the two.

“Punk, (y/n) wouldn’t want you to mope around like some lost puppy every time she leaves. Like, you could miss her, but you need to take care of yourself. You can’t always lock yourself in your room when she’s gone.” Steve advised him.

“Yeah and you can’t always forget to take a damn shower every time she leaves.” Sam muttered under his breath. Bucky grunted at him, roughly kicking Sam’s ankle under the table. Sam hissed as Steve continued to give Bucky advice.

“Listen, the quinjet comes back in an hour or two. If I were you I would take a shower, change your clothes, and clean your room before she gets here.” Bucky nodded along, agreeing with Steve’s suggestion.

“Maybe change the bedsheets too.” Steve added. Sam snickered, “I bet they stink.”

“Keep talkin’ and I’ll make sure your wings don’t work the next time we’re on a mission together.” Bucky threatened. He turned to Steve, “You’re right, she wouldn’t want to see me like this.”

Bucky stared at his food before quickly getting up, “I gotta take a shower.” With that he rushed out the kitchen and back into his room. Steve and Sam looked at the direction Bucky headed and heard his door slam shut.

“Man, he’s whipped.” Sam mused as he began to eat his breakfast.

~⏰~

Thirty or so minutes had passed and Bucky had already taken a shower. His hair was now soft and silky as it brushed past his shoulders, longer than it was when you left.

“Stupid sheets. Stay.” He demanded the dainty bedsheet underneath him. He was currently sprawled out on the bed, both knees keeping the corners of the bedsheet from sliding off. His arms flexed as his hands tried to get the ends of the sheets over the corners of the mattress.

The sounds of grunting and constant cursing caught Wanda’s attention. Curiously, she peaked her head into your and Bucky’s shared room.

“Do you need some help?” Bucky jumped when he heard her voice, causing the bedsheets to fly off the mattress. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, sighing in frustration.

“I just want (y/n) to be comfortable when she comes back from her mission. I just want her to relax in bed cuddled in some new sheets, but NO. They just won’t stay!” He motioned to the pile of pillows, sheets, and comforter on the rug. The younger woman held a hand up at him.

“I know. Why don’t you toss those old sheets in the wash, I’ll make the bed.” Wanda ushered Bucky towards the dirty sheets as her hands began to glow red. He thanked her before gathering the sheets and making his way towards the laundry room.

While he was shoving the sheets in the washer, his hair kept getting in the way. The ends tickled at his face and got in the way of his vision. Patting down his pockets he felt for the round band that he kept in his pockets. When he found it, he bent down and gathered his hair into a ponytail. He got the band ready, twisting and twirling his hair until it looked like a donut. He secured the bun with a content noise before returning to the task at hand.

You had thought him how to make a bun. One day he saw you do it so effortlessly and wanted to learn so he can do it with his hair. It took many tries, but by now he felt like he finally nailed the perfect bun.

Bucky returned to his room to see the bed was fixed neatly. The pillows were set up in a way that looked like the ones on display at Macy’s and the sheets were smoothed out with not a single wrinkle in sight. He made a mental note to thank Wanda once again for fixing the bed. He looked at the time before cleaning up some random clumps of mess that caught his eye. When he was done he sat on the desk chair instead of the bed. Now all he had to do was wait.

~⏰~

“Mr. Barnes, the quinjet has arrived. Ms. (Y/n) has entered the building.” FRIDAY’s voice echoed in his room making him jump. Bucky hopped to his feet and took a quick glance at the mirror. He was sporting a five o’clock shadow and his hair was up in a man bun. A few stands had fallen out form the tie, causing him to redo his bun.

He rushed out his room, already hearing your soothing voice from down the hall. His loud footsteps can be heard from the kitchen causing the others to chuckle.

“Here he comes.” Sam snickered, nudging your shoulder.

“He’s been miserable since you left.” Wanda mentioned an amused look on her face. Suddenly, Bucky appeared from around the corner. His face lit up and his eyes were filled with joy as he practically charged at you. His thick arms wrapped tightly around your frame as his nuzzled his head into your neck.

From over Bucky’s shoulder you saw Steve smiling fondly at the two of you. You pressed a kiss to Bucky’s temple as you ran a soothing hand along the expanse of his back.

“Hi honey, how’ve you been?” The sound of your soft voice made Bucky sigh in content. He was glad to finally hear your voice and to actually hold you. The feeling of you brought him comfort. You were like his safety blanket and now that you’re back, he felt as though nothing bad can happen in the world.

“I miss you, doll.” He replied quietly so only you can hear. You pulled back and took a look at him. You’ve noticed his beard was coming back and his hair was up in a bun. His hair was neatly pulled back, allowing you to get a good look at his face. You smiled at his hair, pulling onto his hand.

“Well I’m here now, you don’t have to miss me anymore.” You led him down the hall and back into his room. Bucky followed you without any protests. You entered the room, the neat bed catching your eye.

“Who helped you with the bed?” You ask him. Bucky shuts the door behind him before making his way to you and taking the duffel bag from over your shoulder. He places it on the floor before pulling you flush against his warm and cozy chest.

“Wanda saw me struggling and ya’ know.” He made a goofy face making motions with his hands that mimicked Wanda’s. You chuckle, understanding what he meant.

You breathed in his scent. The smell of his shampoo entering your senses. You wrapped your arms around his neck and tiptoed. Bucky noticed what you were doing and bent down, making his lips closer to yours.

One of his giant hands cup your cheeks as he takes a moment to take in your features once again. Nothing had changed, you were still beautiful. Except for a small scratch along the apple of your cheek, he frowns at it as his thumb brushes over the healing scab.

“What happened here, doll?” His voice is low as his plush lips press gently against the scratch.

“Hand to hand with one of the punks that work with Jasper. Almost had my eye poked out.” You joked, causing Bucky to send you an unamused look.

“Hey, that doesn’t matter. I’m here, right? I just want to be with you right now.” You mumble against his lips. He hums before crashing his lips onto yours for the first time in weeks. Your lips move in synch while your hands grip at each other.

Pulling away for air you shrug off your sweater, “Wanna take this to the shower? I could use one.”

“I mean, we’d be saving water together, so sure. Anything that helps the planet.” He jokes. You pull off your shirt, pants, and boots, leaving you in your undergarments. You walk into the connected bathroom to see that Bucky had started the shower. There was some light steam coming from the water and you just couldn’t wait to hop into it.

Bucky presses himself behind you as you enter the shower. You feel his length against your backside as he presses scattered kisses onto your shoulders and the back of your neck. You moan as his hands wrap around your front, his hands enveloping around your breasts and squeezing them.

“Baby, missed you so much.” You turn in his arms and you’re stunned to see his hair still in a bun.

“Buck, why’s your hair still up?”

“I forgot to take it down.” He quickly pulls the tie from his hair and throws it out the shower. You run a hand through his dark locks, admiring how long it’s gotten since you’ve been gone.

“It’s so long.” You giggle as Bucky shakes his head to ruffle his hair. A toothy grin is on his face as he pulls you close again.

“You like it?”

“Yeah I do.” You muse before pressing your lips together again.

The two of you get frisky in the shower. The heat of the shower competing with the heat of your aching core. Your back was pressed against the cool tiles of the shower while Bucky held you up, your legs wrapped around his slender waist.

Bucky groans for the tenth time when his hair gets in the way once again. The hair getting tangled in yours and Bucky’s lips. Bucky sighs when he pushes his wet hair back again, not understanding how yours was staying in place. He suddenly places your feet back to the shower floor and opens the glass door.

“I can’t with this shit.”

“What are you doing?” You peak your head out of the shower to see him, butt naked with everything hanging out, as he rummages through a drawer. He pulls out silver scissors and gathers his hair into a pony tail. Before you can protest against his actions, the scissors snip at his hair. A chunk of his hair falls to the floor.

Bucky looks at himself in the mirror, fixing his hair. He nods at himself, happy with the new length. His hair stopped right above his shoulders, back to how it was before you left.

“Bucky—“ You’re about to say something but Bucky is already hopping back into the shower and pinning you against the wall.

“Now, I could finally show you how much I missed you without my hair getting in the damn way.” His shoves his head into your neck, sucking and nipping harshly at the skin. The troubles of his hair long forgotten now that his focus was on you and only you.

[guesst]

murderer!iida au

part 1 | toc

INTERLUDE

Fact: Tenya hails from a family of heroes.

Fact: Tenya’s big brother, Tensei, is the person he looks up to the most in the entire world.

Fact: The first advice that Tenya ever received from his brother (other than the obligatory ‘eat your veggies’ and ‘go to sleep’ and ‘stay away from the deviled egg’) is to always take revenge.

Let’s rewind.

Fact: Tenya hails from a family of heroes.

Fact: Tenya’s big brother, Tensei, commits murder on the regular.

Fact: Tenya is being taught to follow in his family’s footsteps.

Fact: Tenya is not very good at it.

“I’m home,” Tenya announces, walking through the front door.

The following “Welcome home!” is muffled and clearly coming from the kitchen, so he makes his way there after neatly putting his bag away. He is, to his delight, greeted with the sight of his brother mixing up some juice at the counter.

“Hello, Tenya! How was school today!?”

Unfortunately, he has some sad, sad news to give to his beloved brother.

He sits solemnly on a spare chair, folds his hands neatly in front of him and keeps his back straight as a board. “Brother, I have some bad news to give you.”

Tensei puts the juice down straight away and turns to meet Tenya’s eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but lets Tenya prepare to deliver the news on his own.

“I failed again today.”

Tensei looks taken aback, before the news hits home and his eyes widen. “Oh, Tenya…”

“Sento-san took first place in the pop quiz. So I resolved to beat her, just like you taught me to!”

“And then?”

“I planned everything out. At lunchtime, I would invite Sento-san to the rooftop, and I would make small talk with her. That would put her at ease, and lower her guard. Then, I would strike, and she wouldn’t be able to take first place ever again!”

“Oh? What did you decide you’d do?”

“I thought I’d keep it simple and poison her food, brother! And if that failed, I would push her off the roof, although I kept that as a last resort, due to how messy it is!”

“That’s a great plan, Tenya!”

“Unfortunately, it seems the poison I used was not poisonous at all.”

“Oh man… how did that happen?”

“You told me caffeine was a poison, brother.”

“...Ah.”

“And there was a teacher on the roof for the entirety of lunch, so I couldn’t push Sento-san off.”

“Man, that sucks…”

“Yes.”

“Maybe next time?”

“I should hope so, Brother. After all, I’ve attempted murder at least once a week for, hm, eight years now.”

“One of these days, you’ll definitely succeed!” Tensei says. There is a gleam of desperation in his eyes. “You’re my wonderful, brilliant little brother, after all.”

Tenya sighs through his nose. 

By the time he gets into U.A, nothing’s changed. His failures keep getting worse. But a hero doesn’t give up!

Which is why he’s sitting next to one of his new friends, Midoriya, on the second day of school. They’re in the infirmary, due to Midoriya’s broken arm following the battle training exercise, and Recovery Girl has just left for a few minutes to fetch some equipment.

Midoriya is incapactated in front of him, and he’d beaten Tenya’s team in the exercise. Tenya can excuse this, because he was named MVP of the exercise.

However, Midoriya did not hear him say ‘Well done, Midoriya!’ the first time Tenya attempted to congratulate him on his victory, and Tenya had been forced to repeat himself. Though he may be a nice person, Tenya cannot let this pass.

“It’s been an honour knowing you, Midoriya,” says Tenya, solemnly raising an arm.

Midoriya turns his head very fast. “Wha-what do you mean?”

Tenya chops his arm down very fast. This is a technique that he came up with the other day for covertly killing people with a single blow to the head, masked as a simple speaking habit. It’s guaranteed to kill Midoriya in a single blow!

His arm descends very fast, as he says something along the lines of ‘you should take care of yourself!’ to mask his true intention – but!

His arm simply bounces off Midoriya’s head.

Tenya has failed again today.

prev | toc | next

[forviik]

✧ — 𝐁. 𝐃𝐘𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

“This recipe is making me cry, not the onions.”

“Already smells like death.”

“Really, [name]?”

“Make sure to chop it up all fine and disgusting.”

“Are we sure this recipe wasn’t written by a cat?”

“How did we get to this?”

“I do this for you.”

“This is not food, this is a war crime.”

“Buy me dinner first.”

“That was distasteful.”

“It looks like a failed grave robbery.”

“Smells like botulism.”

“It’s 10pm and I’m boiling prunes in my kitchen.”

“Walnuts ain’t gonna save this recipe, sweetie.”

“How does one know when a laxative is done cooking?”

“It’s not bad, it just vaguely tastes like a felony.”

“How am I supposed to know how big your teacups are??”

“Why do dead people like dates so much?”

“Pretty sure this is how diesel is made.”

“Easy does it. Wouldn’t want to ruin a disaster.”

“Here goes nothing!”

“This is the only cake that looks burnt BEFORE you bake it.”

“Tastes like a boot.”

“The slogan for this cookbook is ‘it’s digestible!’.”

“Remember kids, the main ingredient in pie pastry is self-doubt.”

“Here come the tears. Like my mom after a glass of wine.”

“It’s like if a beef wellington got sad.”

“This feels familiar.”

“I didn’t know tuberculosis had a color scheme.”

“I won’t lie, it smells good!”

“Tastes good, but it feels like a pre-existing condition.”

“This is a misdemeanor.”

“I think I’ve summoned something.”

“Smells deceased.”

“Can you bake a pie with only four ingredients? Yes! I could also eat my mattress.”

“I’m sorry, but we have to let you go.”

“What if I told you I hate pie?”

“I’m not THAT desperate.”

“Are you still here? Dammit.”

“Was this written for a fish?”

“Is this a joke?”

“I think this qualifies as a pre-existing condition.”

“This is not legal!”

“It finished a bit early. Like my ex.”

“Tastes like lint. Soggy lint.”

“No man this Valentine’s day? No problem!”

“I don’t know if I need a knife and fork or if I need to tie my hair back.”

“Do I call the police or a priest?”

“What goes well with I.B.S?”

“You’re a piece of work.”

“Tastes like a shower drain. Or a bunion.”

“Careful not to overmix.”

“Sorry, I’m just trying to kill it.”

“This is why we don’t perform lobotomies anymore.”

“Did I mention this was a cake?”

“Can we at least have coffee first?”

“I bet this recipe is just all the wrong answers on a baking test.”

“Not bad, dead people.”

“It’s incredible! And I’m mad about it!”

“Sir, your phone number is four digits.”

“Wakey wakey, time for school!”

“Don’t come back.”

“It’s a little late in the century for war crimes.”

“I’ve never been particularly religious, but today might be the day.”

“I feel like if I do this correctly, I’m gonna invoke the spirit of Richard Nixon.”

“This isn’t food, this is a bioweapon.”

“This tastes like an IHOP kitchen floor.”

“It’s uncomfortably appetizing.”

“Smells like a Palm Springs retirement home.”

“Walnuts are never optional.”

[jeromesxreader16]

Such a Joker (54)

Part 53 Here!

~o0o~

"Who are you?" Bruce's voice booms through the study. He stares at his newly crafted parents with confusion, and shock. His mind must be going in circles. "Well, look who decided to join us," Martha speaks to her boy. "Hello, champ." Thomas follows.

"Master Bruce!" Alfred pops in with a tray of tea and biscuits. Bruce looks at his friend in shock. "Alfred, how did you..."

"Look at the state of you. What have I told you about rolling around in the muck?" Bruce stares at everyone, Jeremiah and I hide away watching for the time being.

"Alfred, what's going on? Who are these people?"

"Whatever do you mean, Bruce?"

"We're your parents." Silence from the billionaire boy Bruce Wayne.

"Right. Well, let's get you spruced up. After all, we have guests."

Jeremiah pulls us both out with smiles. His hand around my waist and his other raising a glass. "Welcome home, Bruce."

"Jeremiah. You're alive." Bruce's eyes travel to mine.

"Well, you didn't think Selina could kill me so easily, did you? Or that I'd ever leave my wife and my unborn sprees? I just had to put you off my scent until I could finalize my... project." Jeremiah pinches Martha's cheek. Bruce lunges for him before Alfred stops him. "Manners, Master Bruce. Let's not be rude to our guests."

I look to Bruce with a slight smile. If I play along I might be able to stay safer if I play the victim. I smile kissing Jer's cheek. "Especially when we come bearing gifts." I present the bomb to them all on the table. "Oh, Mrs. Valaska. A cake. How exceedingly kind of you. Is it Italian meringue?" I look back at Jeremiah with a smile, about to burst into laughter. He shrugs his shoulder. "Sure." Bruce strides towards me with fury, until Jeremiah pulls out the trigger.

"Now, now, Bruce, you come any closer and I blow up Wayne Manor, with all of us inside of it. I have a dozen more of these, uh, Italian meringues sprinkled throughout the house." Bruce glares at me with ill intent. "What did you do to Alfred? And who are these people?" I roll my eyes leaving Jerimiah's side and plopping on the couch. "Ah, glad you asked. Come."

Jer strolls over to look at Wayne's personalized smiles with Bruce. "Mommy and Daddy dearest were just an innocent couple I kidnapped based on... bone structure and, um... build. Just a touch of plastic surgery, and voila... Waynes. Alfred, I nabbed in the Green Zone." Bruce waves his hand in front of their faces, connecting the dots.

"They're hypnotized."

"Well, I'm afraid there was no room for improv in our script. Today is a... very important day, Bruce. Just look at the way they're dressed." I walk around Martha, admiring her pearls. "I like these, J." He hum. "I'll get you some just like it, love, but these ones are important for tonight." I giggle and kiss his cheek.

"It's the night my parents were killed," Bruce says with sadness.

"And I'm giving you the chance to experience it all over again."

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious? Bruce... this...this was the most important day of your life. And I didn't get to be a part of it. We didn't get to comfort you on your big day. We need to rectify that." I stretch my arms out, planting them on my swollen belly. "Alfred, is dinner done? I'm hungry."

Jeremiah nods looking at Alfred. "Chop-chop. We're on a very tight schedule. My wife needs to eat." Alfred bows his head. "Of course, Mr. Jeremiah."

Jeremiah pulls out a chair for me in the dining area. Very comfortable and quaint! Jeremiah passes me a plate full of fruits and toast. "Alfred told me such great tidbits about your childhood. Any jam, darling?" Jer paused to ask me. I shake my head, kissing his cheek. "No love."

He nods, "Anyways, yes, How you used to eat here, in the kitchen, when it was just you and the family. My, how... homey and intimate. That's exactly how I'm raising my children."

Alfred walks over with Jer's food. "Grilled cheese and Branston pickle sandwich, Mr. Jeremiah. Master Bruce's favorite. My influence, though Thomas did add a dash of aioli for extra flair." Jer looks at Bruce with judgemental eyes. "Oh. Come on, Bruce. That's a weird favorite food for a 12-year-old."

"I'm playing your game," Bruce says smacking the plate off the table. "Now let Alfred and these people go. They're innocent."

"I'm sorry, Bruce, it's just... it's very important to me that I get every detail exactly right. Speaking of which... the final touch. What was it like... losing your parents that night? I lost my family, too, Bruce. The wound still hasn't healed. I... think about it often." Jeremiah falls into his thoughts, trailing off.

"None of this is real. You're trying to manipulate me. It will never be real." Jer smirks seeing the despair and sadness on Bruce's face. "But you are thinking about that night. That's all I need. I just want to be connected to you. I offered for you to be my best friend! You could've been the godfather to my children. But I've realized if we... can't be friends... then we can be connected in other ways."

"How?" Bruce asks frightened.

"You'll see. In time." Jeremiah looks at his watch humming. "I'm sorry to cut tonight short... but... your parents and I have a very important date ...with destiny." He laughs as we stand up and disappear with the Waynes. "You might want to find your faithful butler and leave. Quickly." as we rush out of the home Bruce struggles to find his butler.

Jeremiah runs through the tunnels, dragging me behind. "Exhilarating. Isn't it love?" I grab the wall as we near the end. "I... I need to slow down." His face smooths and he presses his hand to my back. "Aw, my love, I'm sorry. Giving you a hard time today?" His hand comes to my stomach and the twins kick excessively. "When you're around." I laugh leaning onto the soft fabric of his blazer. Jer looks down at me with sad eyes. "This is dangerous. You shouldn't be here." I furrow my brows. "You brought me along!" "And it was foolish of me. Gents, for the rest of the night, keep my wife safe. At safe blast range."

~

"Jeremiah!" Bruce calls in the theater. "Show yourself!"

The screen starts running a film. "Ol?! Hola, Bruce." Jeremiah swings in the frame on the big screen. "Well, here we are, the theater where your mommy and daddy took you to see The Mark of Zorro. Ha-ha! I had heard you were obsessed with this man as a child. I wonder what was it

that intrigued you so? Was it the fact that he struck fear into the hearts of his enemy?" Jeremiah in his costume fights off his enemies on the screen.

"En garde! Take that, you villain."

Jer looks into the screen. "Perhaps the movie was a bit too effective. Isn't this the part where you became frightened? When you asked your parents to leave? I wonder what would have happened if you hadn't done that. If you had conquered your fear. Maybe your parents would still be alive."

"Well, on to the last and final stop down memory lane."

~

Bruce runs out of the theater in a sprint. He stops in his tracks when he sees Jerimiah and I. "Stop! Stop! That's far enough, Bruce."

"Jeremiah. You don't have to do this."

"But I... I do. You see, I-I came to this realization. I realized that no matter what I did to bond us, some random gunman in an alley would be the man who you were tied to the most. The man you saw when you closed your eyes. I want to be the star of the show! Jeremiah says dramatically. "So if I can't have you as a brother bonded by love, then we'll just have to be bonded by hatred." Bruce huffs at him in anger. "And you think killing two people that look like my parents will do that? It won't."

Jer tightens his grip on me. "Well, then it's a good thing I already put a bullet in both of their fraudulent skulls." I look up at him with furrowed brows. "You said-" "Oh, you're both confused. How sweet." I look back to the couple with their backs facing us. "Jer, who is that?"

"You're wondering if I already shot them, then who's this lovely couple?" I jerk away from Jerimiah in an attempt to see the two. "No."

"Thomas, Martha...why don't you turn around?" Tears well in my eyes. "Jer, why?" He looks down at me with venom. "It's always been a roadblock, darling. Even for Jerome. With Jim in the way. No family of ours will survive. So why not have some fun with it, huh?" He winks at me. "No! You- you can't. These kids need him." "They need me," Jerimiah says with a smirk. "And so do you, doll."

"See, Bruce throughout our little adventure, fate brought to me James Gordon and Leslie Thompkins, and I thought to myself, why not... why not kill the man who you think of as your second father figure? And your dear, dear, dear friend Lee Thompkins. And when I do, finally, you and I will be bound together. Because you see...reunification with the mainland hangs on by a thread. Those fireworks go off and toxic chemicals rain down onto the city, and the government...cuts us adrift for good." I let a tear fall. "Jeremiah, please. Don't" He hold me tighter, never letting go of his hold.

Jer pulls me to the car, shoveling me in. "Dad!" I scream over his shoulder.

"I had Jervis Tetch hypnotize them so that they'll wake up the moment these beautiful pearls hit the ground. I want you to see them realize what I've done to them as life drains from their bodies. Never forget, this is all for you, Bruce." Jerimiah hops into the car with me, closing the door as we speed off. I stay silent. Sitting alone. "Aw, darling. Come on now. You know I had to. A wife can never live a life with two sides. You'll understand one day." He kisses my cheek while looking out the windows at his destruction.

"You know... I always liked him." I look up across from me to see Jerome. "He got on my nerves, but he always kept it interesting, didn't he, doll?" I push a smile out on my lips, nodding. Jerome leans over and kisses my forehead. "Cheer up love. Look down, look at our kids. Give them a laugh for me. Keep that one in check." He winks before setting back and vanishing.

I shake my head pushing all the nerves back in my mind. "Jerimiah, love? Where are we going?" He smiles grabbing my hand. "To the finale." Rounding a corner I see the big illuminated letters of ACE Chemicals. The inside reeking of strong odors.

"Jeremiah! Face me!" Bruce's echoed scream bounced through the factory. "Here, Bruce," Jer calls loudly. I stay behind pipes, hidden away safely as Bruce runs after my mad husband.

"Jeremiah! This ends. Tonight."

Both gentlemen on the metal walkway above the vats of acid. Bruce hits Jerimaih making him stumble against the railing. "No, Bruce. Now it begins." Bruce kicks Jerimaih down the catwalk, towering him. "You feel it.

The connection between us. You do. Don't you? Bruce, you feel it." Bruce punches Jeremiah as he continues. "Tell me you feel it."

"You mean nothing to me."

Jerimiah's head butts Bruce before getting to his feet again. "Why don't you understand?" Jer grabs Bruce pushing him against the railing, causing it to bend. "You need me. I'm the answer to your life's question! Without me, you're just a joke...without a punch-" Jerimiah throws his hand at Bruce, but Bruce moves at the right time causing Jer to miss. His arm follows through in the wind, his body hitting the railing hard causing it to break and Jerimiah to fall into the vat. "NO!" I scream running over. Bruce tugs me back as I try to reach down into the vat. "(y/n), no!" I cry holding to the broken railing. "No... no..." I lower my head into my hands. They're both gone. I'm all alone now.

An ambulance rolls up fishing out Jerimiaha's body from the vat. "Miss." I continue to watch as Jerimiah's body is laid on a table and carried away. "Miss." I look up to see a nurse with worry-filled eyes. "I need you to come with me. You've been surrounded by hazardous chemicals. We need to make your child is okay." I nod numbly. Passing Bruce, keeping my head down. "(Y/n)," Bruce calls. "Let me follow." I nod without a word.

~

"Well, Mrs. Valeska. You're set. Two healthy twins." I nod standing. "Where is-" "Room 204. He's unconscious." "I don't care." I stand walking to the locked room, two guards on each side. "I'm his wife," I say before entering. In the bed, Jerimiah lays still, wrapped up in bandages from head to toe. I feel my tears well up with tears. "He did it to himself, doll. Nothing you could've done." Jerome kisses my shoulder, wrapping his arms around me. The ghostly feeling so comforting. I lay hand hands on his feeling the cold skin. "I wish you were here." "I know, but someone else is." The door opens and none other than my father walks in. "Dad." "Oh, my god." He covers his mouth, tears welling up, as he wraps me in his arms. "You're okay." I cry into his shoulder.

Selina and Bruce arrive in the room. "I can't believe he's still alive," Selina says with hatred, but I can't blame her. "They've been doing scans, and he has no brain activity," I say never taking my eyes away from Jer. "So, he's no longer a threat to you. To anyone." I turn around walking away from the room. "(Y/n)," Dad calls out. "Come home with me, honey. You need to be-" "Okay. I'll meet you there." I continue to walk out the doors into the dark night of Gotham, a quiet night. 

[hawks-supremacy]

Shibuya Honey Toast

a/n: finally updating, i ended up writing more then i thought i was going to. i just kept typing, it's not much longer than usual but i try to keep the written chapters a little short.

warnings: none

words: 1.9k

Masterlist

You turned off your phone and quickly got dressed, it was fifteen minutes before you had to meet the guys and it was a ten minute drive and even longer walk so you were hoping you could convince Shinsuke to give you a ride there so you wouldn’t be late. You made your way downstairs to where your grandma was in the kitchen cooking something. “Hey grandma, is it okay if I go out with some friends today?”

She stopped her actions of kneading dough to turn around, “Sure Boo, where are you going?” she asked as you walked around her to pick some of the fruit next to her off of the counter. “We were going to go to that new ramen place that opened up, I also need a ride. Do you know where Shin is?” She pushed the fruit and the cutting board towards you and motioned for you to start cutting the fruit, “Gran I told you I have to meet with my friends I don’t have time to help you today.”

She waved her hand dismissing your statement and motioned to the fruit, “Shinsuke is in the shower sweetheart. He just got back from being in the field he wanted to get the dirt off. You have time to kill, help a poor old lady out.” You rolled your eyes sending a text to the group chat that you were going to be late and had to help your grandma before you could leave. “You aren’t some helpless old lady, I’m pretty sure I saw you doing chin-ups in the garden the other day. What are we making anyway?”

She turned around and continued to knead the dough on the counter, “I decided to make Shibuya Honey Toast. That used to be our guys’ favorite so I thought I’d make you guys some.” You nodded and continued to chop up the strawberries in front of you. “You know it’s been a while maybe five years since I last helped you make this, but from what I remember of other people making this, they don’t usually make their own bread for this.”

She tutted at you as she shook her head, “You know my policy Boo, if it’s not made by hand it’s not made from the heart.” You both laughed and fell into silence while you finished doing your current tasks. About five minutes later Shin came downstairs asking how everything was going. “Well I just put the bread in the oven to bake and Boo here just got done cutting up all the ingredients we need after the bread is done baking. They need a ride into town to meet with some of their friends, do you think you could do that please?” He nodded and walked over to the fridge grabbing a bottle of water when someone knocked on the front door, “I’ll get it.” Shin said, running to the door. A few minutes later he came back into the room with three six foot rowdy teenage boys, two of which were too busy arguing.

“Osamu, Asumu, Suna? What are you guys doing here? You’re supposed to be eating ramen by now, not at my grandma’s house.” You laughed as you walked over to greet them, hugging Atsumu and Osamu, and giving Suna a crisp high-five. You ushered them over to the kitchen table asking if they wanted anything to drink. Atsumu was the one to answer your question as you got their drinks from the fridge, “We were on our way to the place when you texted so we turned around and came here instead.”

You nodded and turned your head to glance at your grandma who was leaning against the counter with a smirk and her arms crossed, “So which one of the twins is it Boo?” You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Neither of them Gran.” You said at the same time as Kita said “Give her a break Gran.”

Atsumu raised his hand signaling that he had a question, “Y/n, why did she call ya Boo?” You groaned again, was it embarrassing Y/n day? “When they were a kid they were obsessed with trying to scare people so they would hide around corners all the time and yell “Boo!” all day. It was just the cutest thing. Not to mention that their first word was Boo.” After explaining the reasoning behind the nickname all three boys turned to look at you, “You guys want food? I think I’ll make us lunch since we ended up not going out to lunch. Why don’t you guys go watch Tv in the living room or something, what do you want?” You got up walking to the counter to start taking out ingredients. “Why don’t ya make Onigiri? And ya know what? ‘Samu can help ya with it, it is his specialty after all.”

You agreed and began to cook the rice, everyone except for Osamu went to the kitchen. On her way out your Grandma stopped by you and whispered, “So it’s the grey haired twin huh?” and went to the living room after winking at you. You turned to Osamu who was rolling up his sleeves to help you cook and walked over to the fridge, “Do you want to fill them with anything? We could do tuna mayo, umeboshi, I think we might have chicken. We could also do multiple so we have a variety and they could choose.” You looked up from glancing in the fridge and saw Osamu giving you the tiniest of smirks. “I’m rambling aren’t I?” You asked and he nodded, “Oops. So what do you want to do?”

He shrugged, “Let’s just do all three, ‘Tsumu is a pig and will eat anything we put in front of him.” You raised your eyebrow in an accusing manor, “Are you sure it’s Atsumu that’s the pig? I haven’t known you for long, but I’ve seen you eat.” He rolled his eyes and began to mince the chicken you handed to him while you got out the umeboshi and the ingredients needed for the tuna mayo. “Can you hand me the soy sauce, mirin, sugar and sake?” Osamu asked after he was done cooking the chicken. You brought over the needed ingredients and peered over his shoulder as he added all of them into a pan.

“What are you doing?” He asked looking over at you and nudging you with the arm he was using to stir the chicken with. “You look ridiculous standing on your toes like that.” You shrugged falling back onto the flat of your feet, “Sorry not everyone can be over six feet tall. I’m done making the tuna mayo so right now I’m just waiting on you. So I was watching you cook.” He gave a soft chuckle before telling you that that was a weird thing to do. “I don’t think it’s weird. I like watching people do what they’re passionate about. You see them get in this sort of zone where they don’t think about anything but that thing. I loved watching Toru play volleyball because it was his whole life, I can tell it’s the same thing with Atsumu and with you it’s cooking.” During your little speech you sat yourself on top of the counter.

Taking the chicken off the stove and setting it on the counter Osamu leaned into you, “So when do I get to watch you do something you’re passionate about?” You were about to respond when you heard a cough from the kitchen entrance and he quickly moved away from you and you slid off the counter. “Now Y/n what have I said about sitting on the counter?” Your grandma said walking in to take the fully cooked bread out of the oven to finish making her shibuya honey toast. “You told me not to.” You mumbled as she said “I told you not to. So what was that I walked in on.” You stopped forming the onigiri that was currently in your hands, “Gran can we not talk about it, please?” She waved you off with a “Yeah sure, just saying you guys would make a cute couple.” You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed.

Osamu looked between you and your smirking grandma and cleared his throat, “I agree with your grandma, I think we’d be a cute couple.” You whipped your head towards Osamu, he shrugged and mouthed ‘what?’. You gave a silent laugh and shook your head finishing the onigiri at the same time Gran finished the shibuya. Setting everything on the table you called to the boys in the living room to come eat lunch.

A few minutes after sitting down to eat Atsumu broke the silence, “What happened, why are we all quiet?” You and Osamu mde eye contact at the question and had a silent conversation before Osamu spoke, “We’re eating ‘Tsumu, some of us don’t like to talk with our mouths full, pig.” Atsumu scoffed in offense, “Excuse me, I’m not the one who eats constantly.” It wasn’t long before they started a full blown argument. Everyone watched for a few minutes before Gran broke it up and told them to sit down and eat or get out. After the argument was done Atsumu and Osamu sat back down, previously ready to jump across the table to attack each other. Everyone sat down and finished eating, making small talk here and there. You went to go do the dishes when your Grandma shooed you away insisting she had it. “Grandma Kita let us help, we made the mess.” Osamu tried to convince her to let you guys do it but if you know anything about your Gran it’s that she’s stubborn. “Hon go have fun, pick fruit in our field or something, and please call me Grandma Yumie, you’ll be family soon enough.” She replied, turning around and starting to clean.

You turned around, hand on your forehead walking out of the kitchen with Osamu following you, “I swear to god I’m actually going to put her in a home. I apologize for her behavior, Hajime has to go through this every time he visits or sees her.” He nodded as you guys exited the house to the back where Shin, Suna, and Atsumu were.

Shin was in the middle of trying to convince Atsumu to do something productive while he was here. While Shin did work in the field earlier this morning there were still a few things that could still be harvested. It didn't take long for him to convince Atsumu seeing as how he practically worshipped the ground Shin walked on, Suna however wasn't really jumping for joy at the idea of doing field work. After a bit of convincing and a lot of bribing and promises of chuupets he finally agreed to help for a few minutes.

The rest of the day was spent picking various fruits and vegetables while laughing and making fun of each other over old stories you told each other. After a few hours everyone had to go back to their respective homes and call it a night.

Tag List:

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[iflostreturntosteverogers]

If You Love Her

Characters: Katsuki Bakugou x Reader, EraserMic, Ejiriou Kirishima, Hitoshi Shinsou, Kazuya Yamazaki (OMC), Hanta Sero (Mentioned), Mina Ashido (Mentioned), Denki Kaminari (Mentioned), Izuku Midoriya (Mentioned), Shouto Todoroki (Mentioned)

Warnings: Angst, Character Death, Grief, Little Smidge of Fluff

Word Count: 2278

Beta: @sorenmarie87​

A/N: Lyrics used from the song If You Love Her by Forest Blakk

Masterlist

      Katsuki hums as he prepares breakfast for the two of you. You lean against the doorframe admiring him in his hero costume. “Just gonna stand there, Firework? Or are you going to come kiss me good morning?”  He smirks over his shoulder at you. You push off the door frame and walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He sits his knife down and turns in your arms, cupping your face and kissing you. “You know you could’ve slept in right? UA is on holiday.” You shrug.

“I couldn’t sleep. I’m a little anxious this morning for some reason. Plus, I wanted to see you before you left for patrol.” Katsuki squeezes you hard before letting you go and turning back to his task. You grab your favorite mug and start to pour yourself a cup of coffee when his voice stops you.

“Don’t drink coffee if you’re anxious. You know it makes your heart race. There’s tea in the cabinet. Do you want me to stay home with you today?” 

“Thank you. No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine, Kat, I promise.” You reach up on your tiptoes for the tea on the top shelf. You had a sneaking suspicion that Katsuki liked to place things you used regularly up out of your reach so he could grab it for you. He chuckles and grabs the tin, placing it in your hands. “Thanks.”

“Welcome, babe. Breakfast is ready, but I’ve gotta take mine to go. I’m running late for a meeting with Deku, Shouto, and Kirishima before our patrols.” 

“Be safe, Kat. Come home to me.” He leans down to kiss you and presses your foreheads together. 

“I will. I promise.”

“Love you more.”

“Love you most, Firework. I’ll be home for dinner.”

      The envelope in his pocket feels like lead as he sits through the shitty meeting Deku is leading. The truth is he’d woken up with anxiety too. Terrified about the future and what would happen to you if he was gone and wasn’t there to protect and love you anymore. It’s not like hero work was exactly safe. There was always that risk. They had already lost friends and comforted significant others at burials. Kirishima nudges his leg. “Hey, man. You good?” Katsuki looks around and realizes the meeting room has emptied, leaving him and his best friend alone. 

“Just thinking about Denki and Shinsou. And Sero and Mina.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s been what about a year since Sero was killed?” 

“Mhm and only a few months since Denki. Fuck, man. Feels like forever ago and yesterday at the same time.” Kirishima’s eyes fill with sadness thinking about their fallen friends. 

“Yeah. Listen, Kiri. I need you to do something for me.” He pulls the envelope from his pocket and holds it out to him. “If I- if I ever die, I need you to take care of her for me. Make sure she lives her life, man. Don’t let her shut down and her light die. She’s too bright for that, man. You protect her. You have to help her keep going. Make sure she falls in love again. And when she does, you give him this.” Katsuki’s voice cracks, thick with emotion.

“Katsuki, I-”

“Promise me, Ejiriou.” Katsuki shoves it at him. Eyes desperate and pleading. 

“Of course, Katsuki. I promise.” He pulls Katsuki into a hug, a move that would’ve earned him an explosion to the face years ago. They stay like that until Katsuki’s calm and in control again. 

“Let’s get out of here. I need to blow something up.” They both let out watery laughs and stand. 

“You know everything’s gonna be fine, right?” Kirishima places his hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, I just can’t stop thinking about how wrecked Mina and Shinsou were. Hell, they still are. We’ve done our best to be there for them but Shinsou shut down and pushed us away completely. He blocked everyone’s numbers, except Y/N, but she’s his sister. Mina tries, but we all know she can’t even look at us anymore, because she just sees the one who’s missing. I have to make sure someone takes care of her. For my peace of mind.”

“That makes sense.” They slip their comms in their ears and leave the conference room. Kirishima stops by his desk to store the letter while Katsuki texts you. “Ready?”

“Yep.”

Their patrol goes slowly. Katsuki just wants to get home to you. It’s hot as hell and quiet on the villain front. The only thing they’d done was rescue that dumb cat from a tree. “Dude, one more quiet block and I’m calling it a day.” 

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. I think we can let the sidekicks handle the last couple hours without us.”

      You stand at the kitchen counter chopping vegetables for stir fry. The news drones on in the background as you make dinner. Katsuki had checked in multiple times and said his day was boring and long, so you figured you’d make his favorite food and you guys could have a movie night. Your phone starts buzzing in your pocket, but as you reach for it someone bangs on the door. “Good grief.” You lay the knife aside and wipe your hands on a towel. “I’m coming.” The banging continues, growing more frantic. “Jesus, I’m coming. Chill.” 

Time slows in that moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Katsuki’s picture on the news screen and turn. The doorknob jiggles as the person gives up on knocking and resorts to their key or picking the lock you don’t know. “Pro Hero Dynamight was killed moments ago in an attack. He and his partner, Red Riot, were on their way back to their agency when they were ambushed by a group of villains.” You stop dead in your tracks. The door opens. “Dynamight was dead by the time sidekicks and backup arrived. Red Riot has been rushed to the hospital. Dynamight was ranked number two behind Pro Hero Deku and leaves behind a wife. Japan thanks you for your sacrifice.” Your knees buckle, but arms wrap around you, keeping you from collapsing completely. Katsuki was dead. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” A familiar deep voice rumbles in your ear. Aizawa holds you close as you sob into his chest. 

“Daddy, he’s gone. Katsuki’s gone. I can’t do this without him. I can’t!” You cry and scream on the floor in your father’s arms. Hizashi arrives moments later, hitting his knees and wrapping you both up. 

Everything is a blur after that. People are in and out of your house. Arms hold you, but they’re the wrong ones. Someone shoved a cup of tea into your hands that went cold a long time ago. You shiver at the cold emptiness that has seeped into your bones. Hizashi wraps a blanket around your shoulders and kisses your forehead. You don’t acknowledge him nor Aizawa when he tries to coax you into eating some food. “Baby, please just drink some water then.” 

You fall asleep on the couch late into the night, because you can’t bear to sleep in your bed without him. Your dads sleep on the couch opposite you. They’re curled protectively around each other, having been reminded once again that time is short and how lucky they’ve been. 

Katsuki’s service is beautiful. People from all over the country come to say goodbye. Your dads hold your hands, while Kirishima, Deku, and Todoroki speak about their friend. It takes all your strength to stand at that podium. “Most of Japan knows Katsuki as Pro Hero Dynamight. The explosive, sometimes crass hero who never backed down whether in battle or simply in the way he spoke. I knew him as the love of my life. He never held back in loving me. He put things on top shelves that I couldn’t reach just so he could get them down and then kiss me. He loved to cook and has made breakfast for me every single morning since we began dating our second year. Katsuki was incredibly caring, even if he wouldn’t show anyone. I love you more, Katsuki. I don’t know how I’m supposed to live without you.” You break down as you address your lost love. Hizashi realizes you won’t be able to move on your own and walks up to you. 

“Come on, baby. Come back and sit down. You did so well.” He places his hands on your shoulders.

“I can’t, Papa. I can’t do this.” Tears flow freely down your face as you grip the podium. 

“You can. One step at a time.” You let go and lean against him as he leads you back to your seat. The service concludes just after sunset. Fireworks fill the sky as tribute to the explosive hero.

      Kirishima sits at a table in the cafe, enjoying the beautiful weather and cherry blossoms. You make your way over to him. “Thanks for coming, Kiri.” He stands and pulls you into a crushing hug. 

“Of course I came! How are you? You look great!” 

“Thank you. I’m doing good.” You smile and he pulls your chair out for you. “I actually asked you here for a reason. I-uh, I’ve met someone. His name is Kazuya. Kazuya Yamazaki. He works at UA teaching Hero Ethics. He’s incredibly sweet and caring. He’s compassionate and understanding. He’s not Katsuki, but I love him. I miss Katsuki so much, Kiri. I still love him. I’ll never stop loving him.” Tears come to your eyes when you mention your late husband. Kirishima smiles.

“Sweetheart, that’s awesome. Katsuki wanted you to live life after he was gone. He wanted you to find love again and be happy. He made me promise that I’d take care of you and make sure you lived and moved on. He’d be so proud of you.” He hands you a napkin to wipe your tears away and chuckles. “Do I get to meet him?” 

“That makes me feel better. And yes, you can. We can do dinner at my house this week and I’ll introduce the two of you. Until then, let’s order some food. I’m starving.”

You order and catch up with each other. When you start to leave he hands you an envelope. “Give this to him.” You look down at it. Written on the front is “To the Extra that loves her after I’m gone” in Katsuki’s handwriting. You hug it to you. 

“I will.”

      You close your car door and take a deep breath. Kazuya makes his way over to you and the two of you walk silently to Katsuki’s monument. “I wanted you to come here for a reason. Today at lunch Kirishima gave me this.” You show him the letter in your hands. “It only felt appropriate for it to be read here.” He takes the letter from you and you both sit in the grass with your backs against the cold marble. You lean your head over onto his shoulder as he reads. 

“To the Extra that loves her after I’m gone. Extra?” 

“Yeah,” you giggle, “that’s just how Katsuki was. Keep going.” 

“If you’re reading this shit then I must be gone, but it also means that she’s found happiness and love again. That’s all I want for her. She deserves the world. But if you’re going to love her there’s some things you should know. If she gives you her heart, don't you break it. Let your arms be a place she feels safe in. She's the best thing that you'll ever have. She always has trouble falling asleep, and she likes to cuddle while under the sheets. She loves Pop songs and dancing and bad trash TV. There's still a few other things. She loves love notes and babies. And likes giving gifts. Has a hard time accepting a good compliment. She loves her whole family and all of her friends. On days when it feels like the whole world might cave in, stand side by side and you'll make it. She's the best thing that you'll ever have. She'll love you if you love her like that. Kiss her with passion as much as you can. Run your hands through her hair whenever she's sad. And when she doesn't notice how pretty she is. Tell her over and over, so she never forgets. Make her breakfast every morning, because she hates mornings and it makes her happy. Don’t let her drink coffee, it just makes her anxious. Buy her flowers and candy and those dumb stuffed animals she loves so much. Make her smile every chance you get because it is the most beautiful thing in the world. Love her. Love her more than anything else in the world. Don’t let her be sad over me. Make sure she shines. Her light is so bright and warm. Take care of her for me. -Katsuki Bakugou”

You wipe tears from your cheeks. “Oh, Katsuki.” Kazuya wraps his arm around you and lets you cry on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“No, sweetheart. There’s no reason to be sorry. He was your first love, your husband. You are allowed to still love him and to still be grieving him. I know there’s room in your heart for both of us.” 

“Thank you. Even after ten years, it still hurts and I still miss him.”

“And that’s okay. Why don’t we go to the market and buy some flowers, so we can freshen up his arrangement? And then we can go home and you can tell me more about him.”

“That sounds great.”

Tags: @fictionalabyss​, @leave-me-2-rot-among-the-flowers​