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fayemarvels · 3 years

Text

Changed my mind

Loki x fem!reader

Hey guys so, this is my first Loki fic I really hope you like it. I have a part two planned so if you would like to read it please, let me know.

Summary: Thor is sick and he asked Loki to get him some Midgardian food. He went down to New York, where he met a girl and she helped him to cook food for his brother. Maybe Midgard isn't so bad after all.

! please don't repost my work anywhere without my permission. Thank you.!

Warnings: none, bad writing

Word count: 1.9k

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Loki has always hated Midgard and everything that comes with it. People, traditions, clothes, food, you name it. He always thought Midgardians were below him, less than him and he was sure nothing could change his mind. He never understood what Thor saw in them and their planet.

His brother was also the reason why Loki was here. You see, Thor had the worst type of Asgardian flu and he persuaded Loki to get him some Midgardian food. There was just one problem. Loki didn’t know any Midgardian food and he didn’t have any books about the planets’ food.

That was why he was in New York, to get a recipe book. He wandered around the New York streets and people were looking at him very weary. To be honest, he did understand why. He tried to take over their planet after all. After about 40 minutes of walking around, he finally found a bookstore tucked away in a quiet alleyway. Loki swung the door open and the bell above his head rang.

After a few moments of silence, he heard a soft

“Coming, wait a moment please.” from the back of the store. In a few seconds, a girl came from the back looking around the store for the new customer.

“Hello welcome!” she greeted cheerfully.

“How can I help you?” when she looked at Loki she froze, but then just shook her head. He looked around and informed her.

“I need a recipe book with some of the best Midgardian foods.” She nodded quietly and walked from behind the counter. The girl hurried to the shelves full of books and ran her finger across the spines. She stopped and took out a thick book with a picture of pancakes with chocolate and some fruit on the cover.

“This is what you are looking for.“ she informed him and handed him the book. He took it from her hands and flipped through a few pages. Loki silently informed.

”I will take it.” She smiled and walked toward the cash register. She rang him up and he paid for it. But couldn’t help herself.

“Excuse me but, can I ask you something?” she asked and he turned around with an annoyed look on his face.

“Why do you want to cook our food? Didn’t you hate our planet?” he rolled his eyes and decided to answer. He had all the time in the galaxy.

“My brother is sick and he asked me to get some Midgardian food that isn’t fast food.” He took a breath and decided to continue.

“I never ate Midgardian food so I needed some references. I will conjure them up with my magic.”

“I don’t think it will taste really good if you conjure it up with your magic.” She confessed and he looked very offended.

“It’s not that I don’t think you are incapable I just think it would be better if you cooked it with your hands.” He looked at her confused and shook his head.

“And why would I do that hmm? Tell me, little mortal.” She looked really nervous but managed to get out some words.

“I think it will make him feel better if it would be made with love.” He scoffed and looked at her.

“What love? There isn’t any.“ She shook her head.

”If there wasn’t any, you wouldn’t be here.” he looked to the side with a weird look on his face.

“If you want I can help you help to cook it.” She tried to sound confident but he could hear she was nervous.

"Why would you want to help me?” he asked and she replied.

“I don’t have anything to do and I really love cooking.” She smiled at him and he narrowed his eyes.

“Fine, you can help me.” He decided and she laughed.

“Ok, my shift ends in about 2 hours so you can come then. Pick some meals to cook in the meanwhile. Now go!”

“Wait! I don’t know what to call you.” He said and she replied quickly.

“It’s (Y/N). go before I change my mind about helping you.” He just shook his head and walked out of the store. ===== When (Y/N) turned off the lights in the shop, Loki was just coming into the ally way.

“So you ready to learn to cook?” she questioned and he nodded.

“Let’s get this done with so I can go back to Asgard and never come back here again.” She rolled her eyes and grabbed his wrist and started to pull him towards her home.

“So my apartment is extremely messy and I’m sorry for that.” She confessed and Loki only grumbled.

“You midgardians, so fucking messy.” She glared at him and slowed down a little bit. They walked in silence and (Y/N) decided to spark up a conversation.

“What did you pick?” he looked at her confused.

”To cook. You were supposed to pick some meals to cook.” He opened his mouth in realization and spoke up.

“Well, I picked something for beginners so we wouldn’t have to spend hours in the kitchen.” She nodded and he continued.

“Some vegetable soup and pancakes with whipped whip cream, chocolate, and fruit.”

“Ok, I have everything for these things so we successfully avoided going into the supermarket.” He looked at her puzzled and she just continued.

“The seniors in this area are crazy. If their life depended on it, they will fight with you until death just to get the things that are on sale.” He chuckled and she smiled in his direction. ‘He has a pretty smile’ she thought but then shook her head. When they came into her apartment she kicked her shoes off and tossed her keys into the bowl on the dresser in her hallway. She shrugged off her coat and walked into her kitchen.

“Nox baby? Where are you?” she shouted into her apartment and Loki looked at her weirdly. In about a minute he could hear a quiet sound of legs scratching on the wooden floor.

“Hope you like cats.” She turned around to look at Loki and he smiled awkwardly. When Nox came into the kitchen he rubbed against (Y/N)’s feet and she crouched down.

Before she could pet him he ran towards Loki to inspect the man he has never seen before. He sniffed at his legs a little before Loki crouched down and put his finger out for the cat to sniff. (Y/N) just watched the interaction in awe.

When Loki looked up he saw her looking at him and he quickly said. “He’s not that bad.” But (Y/N) knew he secretly already had a soft spot for him.

“Okay I’m going to change into more comfortable clothes and we can start.” She left the room and came back in a couple of minutes wearing a tank top and black sweatpants.

“You want some clothes as well? I have some from when my friend was sleeping over.” He nodded and she went to pick them up.

“They will probably be a bit small because he isn’t as giant as you are.” She explained and he took her from her hands and went to change into the bathroom. When he came out she was already taking out all the utensils they will need. He tossed his clothes onto the couch and walked over to her in the kitchen.

“You have something I can tie my hair with?” he asked and she gave him the hair tie from her wrist.

”I always keep one on my wrist at all times, in case anyone needs one.” She informed him and he smiled. He put his hair in a bun and waited for her instructions.

“First cut the vegetables in cubes and put them into the pot. We are doing the healthier version so we won’t use flour.” He tried to keep up but was already failing miserably. When he cut up the carrots and potatoes and stirred them in the pot for a while, they put the water into it, and let it cook.

“Ok, now take out a plastic bowl from that cabinet and I’ll take out our ingredients.” She pointed to the cabinet and Loki complied. He never would’ve thought he would be taking orders from a Midgardian. He came back with a bowl and they put some eggs, flour, milk, and sugar into it. She handed him the whisk and he looked at her confused.

“Stir it I will be right back.” She went into a cabinet to take out some sunflower oil and a pan and put it on the stove to heat it up.

“You want to flip them?” she asked and he shook his head yes.

“I will flip the first one because it’s always messed up, no matter what you do.” She informed him and he looked very interested in all of the new information about cooking. She showed him how to flip pancakes and when to flip them and she went to check up on the soup.

She was washing the dishes from the cooking and their dinner when she heard a quiet snore. She went to look into her living room and she saw Loki and Nox sleeping on the armchair. She took a blanket and covered both of them with it and went back into the kitchen.

When she was done cleaning up, she put the newly cooked food into some containers and went to sleep in her bed. Before she did that, she checked up on Loki one more time and turned on a light on the other side of her living room in case he woke up and didn’t know where he was.

She woke up to the sound of quiet cursing. She rushed out of her bedroom to see Loki standing in the middle of the kitchen looking through cabinets.

“Good morning, what are you looking for?” she asked and he turned around looking alarmed.

“I was looking for some tea bags.” He informed her and she just shook her head and walked towards a shelf that contained her collection of tea.

”Here what kind do you want. I have fruit tea, green tea. Maybe black tea?” they both decided on black tea and went to sit in the living room.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked and she just shrugged.

“My cat was sleeping on you. Didn’t want him to wake up.” She said casually and he looked at the cat, who was fast asleep on the window.

“I… I wanted to thank you.” He started nervously.

“You helped me so much and it was really nice of you.” She looked to the ground and replied.

“It was no big deal. Honestly.” Loki stood up, looked around, and (Y/N) could read from his expression it was time for him to go.

“I’m going to heat up the food and prepare it so you can go.” He nodded and they both walked into the kitchen. =====

When she prepared everything she put the boxes on top of each other and waited for him to come out of the bathroom. He came out, handed her the borrowed clothes, and looked at her.

“Thank you again. For your help.” She waved her hand.

“It was no big deal, really.”

“You know, maybe your planet isn’t so bad after all.” He confessed and she put a hand on his shoulder.

“If you want to come and visit earth you can always come here and sleep over.” He smiled and nodded. He walked out of her apartment onto the street, looked into her window, waved at her, and just like that, he was gone.

He always thought that nothing could change his mind about Midgard but, maybe he found a reason he will learn to like the planet.

She changed his mind.

-------------------------------------------------------

so, thanks for reading my work, hope you enjoyed reading it. if you think I could improve something about my work, please share it with me. Also if you think I can make my writing more inclusive, please share that with me as well.

-Faye xxx

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #the avengers #loki friggason #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#loki fluff

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folerdetdufoler · 3 years

Note

What are Magic 8ball Evak doing today? I miss them.

hey, sorry, you sent this a few weeks ago i think and i really got hung up on it.

usually this kind of thing would be fun to think about but because of the way time works i didn’t know how to write around it! like, when you sent it it was late august, and technically that had like, just happened in the story. we’d just had a late august, so i couldn’t figure out if i should write another “late august day” almost a year after the story finished, even though i only finished the story back in april. that felt like too much of a time jump though, and i hadn’t given isak and even enough time to grow after the story ended. someone else had asked for an update in the comments on ao3 and i couldn’t give them one, not the same way i have been doing for mondays. but i do want to do something, so…

even’s birthday fell on a sunday. it was the first one isak would be celebrating with him, so isak wanted it to be special. but so did sigrid, and she worked faster than him. she invited them to their house for dinner months in advance, which annoyed even. the saturday before, when they were all hanging out at elias’s apartment, even spent most of the time grumbling about it.

“i thought things were getting better with you guys?” elias asked from his throne.

even sighed. “yeah, i mean, we’re fine. this guy is her new bff.” even patted the head of curls sitting against the couch between his legs. “but i just know it’s going to be this over-the-top thing that i don’t want to have to deal with on my birthday of all days. i don’t want that attention.”

isak paused the race he was playing against mikael and whipped around. “you love the attention.”

“yours, not hers.” even gave that same head a correcting tap and isak returned to the game. “if she actually wanted to celebrate my birthday with me then she would ask me what i would like to do, and then maybe it would be something i would enjoy.”

isak scoffed but didn’t pause the game this time. “if she did that you would just tell her to leave you alone.”

“happy birthday to me!”

“then you should just tell her no, you don’t want to spend your birthday with her.” elias doled out the reasonable and obvious advice.

“i would have, but she invited both of us and isak accepted immediately. besides, it’s kind of a regular thing now, sunday dinners.”

“that’s cute,” mutta noted as he walked in from the kitchen with a bag of pretzels and jar of peanut butter. mikael pointed to the coffee table, a silent command to place the snack within his reach.

isak felt a little guilty then, but he kept it to himself. they kept playing their game until it was mutta’s turn, and then isak pushed himself to his feet. he gestured to even to follow him to the kitchen.

even had a big smile on his face as they stepped away, because he was probably thinking isak wanted to kiss him in the privacy of another room. isak did pull him in close by the waist, but it wasn’t for kisses. “we can skip tomorrow,” he offered instead.

even froze for a second, but then shook his head. “no, no, we can go. i would only make it worse by skipping.”

“i would be happy to tell her we’re skipping but take her out to dinner on her own another night, smooth things over.”

even chuckled. “i absolutely love that you feel comfortable having one-on-one dates with my mother but it’s really not necessary. I’m just…complaining. and i’ll complain a little bit more in therapy, and then i’ll work through why i’m complaining and then i’ll be in a better mood for tomorrow. okay?” he reached up and rubbed isak’s shoulders in reassurance.

“will you tell me about it when you get home?” sometimes even shared what they’d talked about and sometimes he didn’t. isak was getting better about asking permission to cross the ever-changing border.

even’s eyes shifted to the side. “it depends on what we dig up.”

isak accepted this. “okay.” he leaned in to kiss even’s cheek, physically changing the subject. “my next question is…how angry do you think elias will be if i steal the big pillows?”

―――

isak had moved into even’s apartment right before christmas, hauling bags and suitcases back and forth over a few days until most of his belongings were at even’s. he fit a desk and his nice chair in the bedroom, and somehow all of his clothes fit in even’s closet. the giant pillows he’d bought had stayed at elias’s apartment, mostly because they would get more use there; the boys still gathered on saturdays and needed the extra seating. but after even left for therapy this was isak’s chance to make the steal without ruining his surprise.

mikael helped him carry them to even’s apartment, since he was ready to leave around the same time as isak. they didn’t talk much on the walk over, but isak knew that that was mikael’s preferred level of communication, and they were both comfortable with it. isak would much prefer a mikael at peace than a mikael ready to launch an attack.

they deposited the pillows in the living room and mikael turned to leave. “we should be here at six?” he asked over his shoulder.

“yeah. i don’t know how late we’ll be but if we leave early then that would be a good time.”

“okay. and elias still has his key?”

“yup.” isak followed mikael down the stairs to their shoes.

“aight. we’ll see you tomorrow then.” mikael offered his hand for a casual slap-shake goodbye, the most physical intimacy isak had ever experienced with him.

“thanks for the help!”

mikael disappeared. isak went back upstairs to find his phone and finalize plans with kari anne in the group chat.

―――

isak dressed nicely for dinners at sigrid & jan’s house. this time he had a red fair isle sweater and dark wash jeans, and some chunky socks keeping his feet warm in his leather boots. even wore something very similar, but his sweater was cream with a different pattern. “do you think she’ll want to take pictures of us again?” even wondered while he combed back his hair, then gently mussed it into a style.

“of course. it’s your birthday. and we look handsome.” isak was applying a dot of concealer just because he could, though he would have to ask emma for more if he wanted to keep up this routine. even put his comb bak in the drawer then leaned in to kiss isak on his opposite cheek. he added a smack to his ass on the way out.

isak liked to dress up a bit because it felt like sigrid and jan dressed up too. it was the polite thing to do, but also isak knew that conversation would flow better if they were all on the same page, even with their appearance. they were all putting the same level of effort into the gathering, and then no one would feel out of place. and it wasn’t too much extra effort, because they would just save the same outfits for work the next day…as long as they didn’t get any stains on them.

they gathered their outerwear as they walked down the stairs, pulling hats and scarves and heavy coats from the hooks along the walls. isak checked in with even right before they left. “are you sure?”

even nodded and smiled and isak didn’t doubt the honesty of his response. he’d shared that his session yesterday had gone well, and they’d talked about certain behaviors from sigrid and himself that he wanted to avoid. “like i’ve been remembering things she’s said and reacting to those instead of what she’s actually doing now. when i feel ready to discuss those past…transgressions, then i need to have a conversation specifically about those moments, versus whatever might be triggering those memories now, whether they’re related or not. otherwise it’s kind of like these mixed messages. she won’t understand what’s actually upsetting me.”

on the way over isak suggested a dinner with just his parents, where isak stayed home. “would it be easier, or give you more of an opportunity to discuss those things without me there?”

“maybe another time. sundays are nice with you.” he gave isak’s hand a squeeze.

they held hands in public now, while they were commuting to work or grocery shopping or walking over to elias’s or meeting emma for dinner. if isak happened to catch a stranger’s curious look, he might tense up a bit, but he didn’t let go anymore.

sigrid & jan’s house was a tiny thing that they’d moved into after even went to university. its yard was bigger than the actual house, but it was completely filled with jan’s garden. another nice thing about going to visit was that they always came home with plenty of seasonal crops. and in the winter it was usually canned fruits, jams, or pickled veggies. sigrid greeted them with big hugs and jan immediately presented two very small jars of “blackberry jam! i got just enough off of that bush at the back.”

“i thought it had died!” even exclaimed, the genuine shock and delight at the gift lifting his voice.

“it’s definitely on its last legs…uh, roots.”

“he was out there every day scouring the brambles.” sigrid shook her head but she was clearly proud of his efforts. then she took isak’s hand and pulled him to the kitchen. even and jan went to the tall closet at the back of the living room where jan stored his jars. “you both look so cozy today. remind me to take a picture later.” she brought him to the stove where she had two large pots simmering. she pointed to one. “i need you to blend that while i get this bread finished.”

“what is it?”

“that’s butternut squash, and this…is a ministrone. kind of. i’ve taken some liberties.”

isak picked up the immersion blender that was sitting next to the stove. sigrid had gotten it started but it was still chunky in spots. while he stood there and mixed the soup she sliced a loaf of bread and laid it out on a baking tray. each slice got a thick spread of butter. isak stepped to the side so she could open the oven and slide the tray in for a quick broil.

she flicked her eyes toward the living room and then leaned toward isak’s chest. “how has he been?”

sigrid asked this question every time they were together. isak had thought it was just general curiosity about the new relationship, but once isak revealed that to even he had rolled his eyes. she was asking isak because it was the nervous curiosity that even had tried to distance himself from years ago. eventually he told his mother to stop using isak to get answers about her own son. that turned into an argument where sigrid nearly started crying about how even wouldn't answer her so she had no choice. she excused herself from the table and jan was left to host the boys through the rest of a very quiet dinner.

at this point isak was comfortable pushing back to defend even’s boundary. “sigrid, you know i’m not going to speak for him. how’s this, is it smooth enough?”

she glanced into the pot. “yes, that looks good.” isak’s deflection seemed to work. “now grab some bowls from the shelf for me please. thank goodness he found a tall one to bring home,” she muttered to herself. isak blushed but easily picked four bowls from up high.

even and jan came to the kitchen shortly after, with jan still talking as they headed to the table. isak passed them the silverware and glasses to set out at each seat. then he helped sigrid carry the pots to the table. before she sat down she dropped a kiss on the crown of even’s head. “how are you doing?” she asked as casually as she could as she moved to her chair. isak sat on the other side of the table, so the couples could look at each other directly. isak studied even as he answered.

“i’m fine, mamma. a little nervous about pappa’s grand scheme over here, but everything else is okay.” isak couldn’t hear any tension in his voice so he relaxed a little bit.

“oh, is he trying to get you on his side about buying a van?”

“how else will i transport my vegetables, sigrid?” jan sounded exasperated by her skepticism.

“dearest, you don’t even have the stall permit yet. don’t put the cart—excuse me, the van—before the horse.”

“catch me up?” isak requested of the table in general. jan gleefully started from the beginning with his grand plan to join the farmer’s market that summer, with the full list of his crops and ideas for clever names for his backyard farm.

most of dinner was spent discussing this great undertaking, with even contributing creative enthusiasm and sigrid sprinkling it all with caution and logic. then they pivoted to jan’s work at the office, and how he found his attention shifting so easily in the warmer months. jan and sigrid lived comfortably and were starting to entertain plans for retirement. that led to talking about the cabin, which turned into the perfect segue by the time they were clearing the table for dessert.

Isak fetched smaller plates from an even higher shelf, and even clapped when sigrid revealed his cake. it was a tall layer cake draped in swirls of light blue icing. there were six candles on top and even’s name written in a shaky, dark blue script. “do you remember that picture you put in the folder for me? the close-up of his face?” sigrid asked isak. he nodded. every few weeks he picked a photo (with even’s approval) from his phone and uploaded it as a wordless update for his parents. that one had been from early december, when they went out for lunch on a random tuesday, just to get some sunlight. “i zoomed in on his eyes and picked the blue color from there.” sigrid twisted to even and cupped his cheeks with her small hands. even leaned into the adoring gesture and those blue eyes crinkled up with a smile. they shared a silent moment of connection and then she released him to stand in front of her chair. isak stood up too. jan struck a match to light the candles.

even laughed and gamely clapped while they sang the birthday song. he watched isak spin around with a little flare, and isak genuinely enjoyed performing something he used to roll his eyes at. then even paused to make a wish and blew out the candles. isak knew he would ask him what he wished for later.

the cake was delicious, and they each had two slices. even tried to flick icing across the table at isak but sigrid threatened him with a spoon. “if you get icing on my wall you are cleaning it up, birthday boy.” even agreed to those terms and kept trying. then jan left the table for the bedroom, and returned by sliding a tall, skinny cardboard box through the kitchen. it had a blue bow stuck on top, which was enough, since it would’ve taken an obscene amount of wrapping paper to cover the whole thing.

“eh?” even stood to look at the box.

“happy birthday, dearest.” sigrid looked very proud of the gift and was enjoying even’s puzzlement. jan stepped back and let even walk around it. they had to hold it at the top so it wouldn’t fall over.

“it’s heavy….” even’s eyes scanned each side. “is…did you get me a bed?” he gripped the box to turn it around, showing sigrid and isak the diagram on the other side. it was, in fact, a bed. “thank you,” even whispered, without much conviction.

“it looks like a nice bed,” isak added, coming around the table to look at the dimensions. “we can get the guys to help us carry it upstairs.”

“oh no! no!” sigrid nearly yelled. “it’s not for—it’s for the cabin. you don’t have to carry it anywhere. pappa and i will take it up on our next trip and build it in your room, so now you’ll have a proper bed for when you and isak visit. i didn’t want those flimsy beds from when you were a kid stopping you from staying in ålesund.”

even’s face relaxed as his mother explained and the bed made more sense. he leaned the box against the nearest counter edge and moved around it to give sigrid a hug. “thank you,” he said again, with actual gratitude. “that’s such a lovely gesture for the both of us.” he pressed a heavy kiss on sigrid’s cheek and isak saw her squeeze her eyes closed. she was going to cry. she let out a tiny gasp when even pulled back. he went to jan to give him a hug as well, and sigrid turned away from them to hide her tears. but isak stepped in and opened his arms for a hug as well, and she fell into his chest and let loose against his sweater.

“thank you, sigrid. that means so much to us.” he rubbed her back to calm her down. “let us know when you’d like a family vacation and we’ll try to clear our schedules for it, okay?” her blonde hair scratched at his chin as she nodded. isak knew it was a big promise, committing to a vacation with his boyfriend’s parents, but that seemed to be the least they could do since they bought them a bed. aside from the literal comfort they were providing, it felt like a grander statement since the gift would serve both of them. isak felt like it was his birthday too.

when even and his father separated, jan peeled off the bow and stuck it to even’s chest. they shared a low chuckle, and then jan slid the box back to the bedroom where it had been hiding. “you know, if we have a van, it will be a lot easier to transport this up there!” he sang as he left. isak let go of sigrid and spun into even’s arms. she plucked a napkin off the table to wipe at her tears while isak was crushed into a hug with the bow.

“we’ll keep the little mattresses, of course. you never know when elias and mutta and mikael want to come for a visit too. but yes, this will be a nicer frame for you both.”

“it’s such a thoughtful gift, mamma. thank you so much.”

“you know…i thought of it as soon as you came back from your first trip, when you brought back the clean sheets and blanket. it might’ve been presumptuous but if…if isak was having a nice time then i thought he might want to come back, and then i wanted it to be ready, and you two could have your own space.”

isak laughed as he pulled out of even’s hug. he kept to his side though, and wrapped an arm around even’s waist. “you were very right to presume. though i suspect i would’ve had a wonderful time even if i had to sleep on the floor.”

sigrid looked horrified when he suggested such a crime, but that just made even laugh. jan reappeared. “oh i forgot to bring these out.” he was carrying a colorful quilt and coordinating linens, also with a blue bow on top. even let go of isak to accept them, and both boys admired the pattern.

“pappa helped me pick those out. they were on sale after christmas. oh, and if you bring them back to the city to wash, you could just use them on your regular bed too. everything fits.” sigrid returned to her pleased homemaker attitude, with any remaining tears in her eyes only there out of pride. she’d surprised her son with a useful and enjoyable gift, that doubled as a reason for him to visit her at the cabin. it was a very successful birthday dinner.

―――

they enjoyed a little bit of champagne in the living room before they left, relaxing on the couches and catching up on the skiing gossip from sigrid and jan’s most recent trip. isak disclosed that he hasn’t skied since he was very young, which sent even giggling, picturing his boyfriend flying down the slopes. “this might be even better than my skateboarding fantasy.” luckily neither sigrid nor jan inquired further into what that fantasy actually was.

when isak noticed the time was getting close to seven he made the gentle suggestion to head home. sigrid and jan were happy to let them go, having enjoyed the whole bottle together and noting their earlier bedtime now that they were getting older. but she also demanded photos once they were standing, so isak took a few pictures of even with his parents and then jan took a few of isak and even alone. they had to brainstorm a way to take a picture of all four of them together, but then sigrid cleared a small space on the fireplace mantle to rest a phone. Even set the timer, they lined up with the boys in the middle, and they wrapped their arms around each other. they smiled.

after another round of hugs and kisses they bundled up and went home. isak carried the new linens in an oversized shopping tote over his shoulder. “that went well, yes?” isak looked over to see even nodding into his scarf. he pressed the button for their stop.

“it was really lovely. i had to, like, constantly remind my brain to not interpret what she was saying negatively, but that’s…what i’m supposed to be doing.” they stepped off the bus carefully, navigating the packed snow on the sidewalk. “maybe after a few more visits it will be less of a conscious effort. but even as it was, i enjoyed myself. i liked seeing you with my parents.”

“speaking of me with your parents, i kind of promised sigrid we would go on a family vacation with her to ålesund.”

isak could barely hear the chuckle underneath the scarf but it was there. “i think that was a given. that was the whole point of the bed. it was quite clever on mamma’s part.”

“mm,” isak agreed. “so we’ll have to start looking at our schedules. and now we have the weekend farmer’s market to take into account.”

even’s laugh was louder and drew his mouth up above the warm wool. “he really has leaned into his gardening in the last year, jesus. if you had asked me five years ago what hobby i thought my dad would pick up next, i never would’ve thought ‘fruits and vegetables.’”

“forget hobbies; he’s halfway to his own business.”

they approached their building. isak had his own key now, and he unlocked the first door for them.

“what are you thinking about?”

isak was thinking about the surprise that was waiting for them upstairs, feeling nervous that he didn’t have any texts with updates, even though he didn’t ask for any. but he quickly thought up a work excuse that would explain his distance. “um, how maybe someone from jakob’s team might be interested in profiling jan. has there been a surge of home gardens lately? what’s the process for joining a farmer’s market? how profitable is it to bring produce into the city from a farm versus urban, hyperlocal crops? what resources are there for farmers when it comes to direct-to-consumer sales?” he felt ridiculous spitting out these ideas because they were rushing out without a filter yet they sounded somewhat legitimate. he really should be putting these questions in a voice memo, but even was climbing the stairs in front of him and that was…well that took priority.

the bag of linens landed with a light thump on top of isak’s pile of shoes. they removed their outerwear slowly as they climbed, hanging everything back up. isak listened for noises but didn’t hear anything over the shuffle of their own clothes. there wasn’t any light coming through under the door. and even—even was still undressing. isak reached up and tugged at his belt. “what are you doing?” he hissed. even threw his sweater and undershirt over his shoulder, and they skimmed isak’s head as they fluttered down the steps.

“getting naked. wanna help?” even was still climbing and his hands were at his belt buckle.

“even, no!” isak was torn between holding his boyfriend back and trying to reach for his shirt, while also not pulling them both down the stairs.

“what…what’s going on? you love when i get naked.”

isak blushed, praying whoever was on the other side of the door was far enough away to not hear them. maybe they were hanging out in the living room. even undid his belt but he did stop climbing to look at isak.

“do you want me to blow you down there?” he pointed down to the graffiti door and isak was going to melt from the flames burning his neck.

“shut up, no, just….” he stumbled down the steps to fetch the sweater and chucked it back up at even. “put this back on. we can’t be naked.”

“why not?” even was seriously confused but he did as isak asked. “we always get naked.”

isak pinched the bridge of his nose. “not tonight, okay babe?”

even dropped his sweater and his jaw. “is this…is this the first time you’re saying ‘no’ to a fuck?”

“even! i’m not—that’s not what this is. just please put your clothes back on until…until later or something.”

even reached into the pocket of his sagging pants and pulled out his phone. “i need to document this. for the record.” he snapped a photo of isak staring up at him with an annoyed look on his face. “this was the first time isak denied me.” even snorted. “it looks like you’re about to give me a very angry blowjob though.” he showed isak the photo.

if he weren’t so frustrated by the situation, isak would’ve laughed. that’s exactly what the photo looked like with that angle. unfortunately isak’s face just made even want to persuade him even more, so even tucked his phone under his chin and promptly shoved his pants down to his ankles. he was wearing bright red boxer briefs and he shook his ass in isak’s face. then, before isak could get a grip on his body, sexual or otherwise, even waddled up the few remaining steps and reached for the door. isak screamed, “NO!” at the same time as their kitchen, full of friends and coworkers, screamed “SURPRISE!” at a nearly naked even.

maja screamed, marius howled, and mikael took approximately 50 photos, the flash of his phone camera lighting up the kitchen like a red carpet. isak was so embarrassed he sank down behind even’s legs. even laughed and made no move to get dressed.

“pull up your motherfucking pants even! i came here for your birthday, not a peep show.” kari anne's booming voice had a hint of a laugh in it.

it did not occur to isak until just then that all of their friends were not just seeing even in his underwear—they were seeing even’s boner in his underwear. so despite isak’s desire to melt into a puddle right there on the steps, he now felt enough possessiveness to lunge forward and pull up even’s pants from behind. it was a challenge to dress someone blind, especially when that someone was a giggly, wriggly mess. isak got a flash of the kind of future where he was getting a toddler dressed, but he had no time for that future right then. he got even’s jeans up to his butt and then he had to forcibly turn his boyfriend around in order to navigate his bulge.

“looks like dinner with the parents went well, then!” elias shouted out, making everyone laugh again and isak’s cheeks turn an impossible red.

“oh, babe.” even finally noticed isak’s general struggle. he took over with his pants and hefted them up to his waist. “i’m sorry. i should have listened to you. but this was amazing and hilarious. are you okay?” he buttoned his jeans and cupped isak’s jaw.

isak was still too flustered to say anything. his eyes darted from even’s face to the gleeful faces behind him, checking to see who was still laughing. “come on, bedroom.” even started walking isak backward toward the privacy of their bedroom. “five minutes!” he announced to everyone else.

“i thought you only needed two!” someone else shouted back.

―――

the laughter and voices faded as soon as the door closed. isak spun around and flopped himself on the bed face first. “surprise,” he mumbled. even collapsed on top of him, blanketing him with rough denim and warm skin.

“this was the best surprise ever. i’m sorry i embarrassed you with my penis.” even added a little thrust as if that would convey sincerity. the heat that flushed isak’s cheeks now was a slightly different kind. even nuzzled his face against isak’s cheek and gave him a few kisses. “i’ll get dressed and we can hang out with my favorite people.”

even pushed up and went to the closet. he swapped out his jeans for grey sweatpants and put on a white t-shirt. isak kept his jeans but opted for a clean white t-shirt too. even swept isak into a hug before they went through the door. “i love you in general and i love you for this. thank you for such a nice gift, and the perfect way to relax after the family dinner.” he squeezed across isak’s back and then shifted his head in for a kiss. isak demanded tongue as part of even’s apology and he got it, a nice open, wet kiss that tasted like champagne. even grunted when they parted. “um, yes. friends first, but then we’re definitely revisiting the naked thing.”

isak agreed with an aggressive grip on even’s ass. even kissed his way out of it and wiggled toward the door.

the kitchen roared with another greeting when they appeared, birthday wishes thrown from every direction. even opened his arms and accepted all of them with a wide smile. “thank you all for coming. this is such a fun surprise, and i clearly had no idea.”

“it was a fun surprise for us as well,” kari anne smirked.

“since we’re all here and there is a grotesque amount of alcohol behind mutta, have we agreed to absolutely ruin our sunday night?” another cheer went up. isak moved around even to get to the counter by mutta.

as requested, everyone bought the alcohol isak had assigned them and paid for. he couldn’t bring much into the apartment on his own without raising suspicion, so he spread out the drinks, food, and decorations among their friends. maja and marius picked up a cake from a bakery on their side of town. mutta and kari anne brought most of the alcohol. sana and yousef brought food from mamma bakkoush, enough to last them at least a week. elias and mikael were on decorations & entertainment duty. their friends had started drinking, as was to be expected when you’re trapped in an apartment for a couple of hours. since everyone had helped themselves to the juice and ice in the fridge, isak didn’t bother with setting anything else up. he searched for sana in the small crowd, who was chatting with mikael by the entrance to the hallway. when he caught her eye he nodded a question and she held up a full glass in response. with her taken care of he mixed up a dark & stormy for even.

“here you go, babe.” he only interrupted even’s conversation with marius and maja to put the cup in his hand. then he went back to the counter to assess the food. yousef joined him to point out the options.

“all of even’s favorites. mamma didn’t leave the kitchen all morning. this…this tray is okay. these two should be reheated a bit.”

“okay, thanks.” isak reached over to start the oven.

“and this we actually eat cold sometimes, so it would be fine as is.”

they figured out the food and then isak moved on to the living room. everyone was still in the kitchen, so isak got to see the decoration efforts as intended. streamers looped colorfully from even’s shelves, carefully taped as to not disturb his toys. balloons hovered at the ceiling, their strings becoming vines that dusted isak’s shoulders. on the coffee table was a pile of markers and a large brown envelope. he went right to the envelope to see what was inside. “yesssss.” isak dumped out the contents and spread them out. he had found ten particularly embarrassing photos, a mix of recent shots from isak and childhood ones from sigrid, that he’d ordered temporary tattoos of. he had a good feeling that this group was going to get very creative with the placement. in the very least he knew exactly where he wanted a tattoo of even on his own body. he practically skipped back out to the kitchen to get water and a sponge.

everyone had started eating, so isak joined the queue for a little bit of the bakkoush cuisine. no matter how full they were, isak and even would always make room for mamma’s food. isak refreshed even’s drink and then led some people into the living room to eat, for more seating. even stayed in the kitchen at the table with sana, yousef, and kari anne.

maja screamed again when she saw the tattoos. she and marius abandoned their food immediately and took the sponge to the bathroom. three minutes later marius returned with at least four evens plastered across his face. then he dared mikael to do even more. after that, it was chaos.

elias tried to tie a balloon to the back of sana’s hijab. kari anne was the first one to get a tattoo of even on her ass cheek. mutta and mikael started doing shots, and marius and maja were caught making out in the stairwell when it was time to break open the markers on the door. their defense was that maja could stand on one step above marius and they would be a closer height for kissing.

“like my apartment is the only place with steps, get the fuck out.” isak shoved marius against the door. but that’s exactly where everyone stayed. they all shared the markers and wrote silly birthday messages to even on the door, reading old ones and laughing, and recording new jokes that they now all shared. the graffiti door was due for an update and everyone got a chance to leave their mark. isak made sure no one wrote over his original “shithead,” and he added a couple more questionable names wherever they fit.

unfortunately marius convinced maja to paint her lips with marker ink and kiss the door, but then she was stuck with deep purple lips. sana immediately dragged her up to the bathroom to start exfoliating. isak had to console maja from the doorway. “i’ll get emma to give me some lipsticks that would cover it up if it doesn’t come off.”

“matte,” sana instructed.

isak opened his recording app and noted that: “matte lipsticks from emma for maja.”

“anything from a maroon to a magenta should cover it up.” isak added that. “in the meantime, here, you can use this.” sana pulled a tube of lipstick out of her small crossbody bag and opened a drawer. she plucked an alcohol wipe from where even kept them next to the tweezers and cleaned off the tube and used lipstick. she handed it to maja and maja looked like she was about to cry from the gesture. sana nipped it in the bud with a glare and a single finger held up in maja’s face. “just be glad your friends are so clean.”

isak blushed, assuming sana knew that they had those wipes to clean their toys. but then marius burst into the bathroom, shoving isak aside. “baby, it looks like we just kissed too hard for a little bit. ‘cheer up! a hickey from kenickie is like a hallmark card,’” he quoted in his best american accent. this actually made maja cry so isak excused himself and went to get more alcohol.

eventually yousef was tasked with getting mutta and mikael home. marius gave maja a piggy back ride down four flights of stairs and across the city. they found kari anne had removed her pants and crawled into their bed, so they left her there. sana, even, and elias collapsed onto the couch and giggled their way through a nonsense conversation the way siblings do. isak put the food away, got water for them all, and then joined them on the floor with his giant pillows. even found grease on the tv and they watched and sang along with the few bits they knew. then isak fell asleep, his fingers wrapped lightly around even’s ankle and his head resting against even’s knee.

#magic eight ball #SO SORRY if the cut doesn't work #skam fic #kerrywrites #i swear to god i AM writing it's just taking me forever #and this could've been a lot longer but i'm not going to test tumblr's patience with that

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floralguccistyles · 3 years

Photo

prologue: soupe à l’oignon

Michel’s soupe a l’oignon was burning.

Michel had also been through a terrible breakup the night before in which he had found his boyfriend of almost seven years in bed with their personal trainer. Then Michel’s boyfriend had announced that he and this personal trainer were actually married, per a terrible ceremony in Las Vegas when they were both drunk. Therefore, Michel was technically the other man. Michel had never been the other man before. He was obviously having a rough time.

But the fucking soup was burning.

“Michel! The soup!” Italia shouted before the scent could officially assault all of my senses. The second the words left her mouth, however, I could smell it. The onions were burning to a crisp. There would be no saving them, of this I knew.

“Shit!” Michel yelled, immediately turning off the heat of the stove. He went to go grab the saucepan and the hurried “no!” didn’t leave my mouth fast enough as he gripped the cast iron handle with his bare hand for approximately three seconds before he yelped and dropped it back down on the stove top with a slamming sound. “Shit, shit shit!” he repeated, clutching his wrist with his other hand.

“Let me see,” I demanded, moving away from my own meal (which would be fine and not on the verge of burning for at least another five minutes) and towards Michel. He held out his hand to me with tears in his eyes and I honestly felt bad for the guy.

I just also felt really, really bad for the customer who was waiting for their soup.

“Go run it under cool water. Cool, Michel, not cold. Ice-cold will damage the tissue even more. Then get a rag wet and hold it over. You can just go ahead and take your fifteen.”

“My soup—”

“Italia and I will handle it,” I interrupted. The more time we wasted standing here arguing was time that could have been spent trying to salvage the soup. It didn’t help that we were already down a chef, since Frederick’s wife was giving birth, but we would make do. Italia and I always did.

“Thanks, Dom. I’ll be in the lounge.”

Lounge was a loose term. It was a tiny little room in the back that looked dingy and unkempt. Still, it was enough to pass health inspections. Only about two people could fit back there at a time, which was why I usually just sat in my car for my breaks.

“Sounds good, Michel.” My eyes locked with Italia, who was already working on melting the butter and oil for Michel’s soup in a new saucepan. Isobel, one of our dishwashers, had already grabbed the pan Michel had ruined and was scrubbing it clean with her thick rubber gloves on her hands. At least I knew she wasn’t going to be burned.

When Michel turned to go into the lounge, I grabbed an onion and automatically began chopping it. “Sorry, Italia,” I muttered under my breath, knowing she could hear me just fine. We had gotten used to the hustle and bustle of the kitchen.

“It’s fine. Tell Louis to offer them a dessert on the house because this soup is going to take at least another fifteen.”

I wanted to slam my head against the counter. Or better yet, use the pan Isobel was now putting on the drying rack to hit over my head. “Fuck. Alright.”

Finding Louis was easy enough. He was making his rounds in the front of the restaurant, his pleasant attitude most likely earning him more than average tips. The kind of people who came to Lesauvage were wealthy enough to tip generously. Sometimes they didn’t, but for the most part, Louis wouldn’t be starving anytime soon. “Louis!” I hissed under my breath when he passed by the kitchen doors, cups in hands to refill. He jumped comically.

“Christ, Dom, you scared me,” he replied in a quiet voice, not wanting any of the customers to hear. “What?”

“Tell table eleven there was a complication with their soup and dessert is on the house.”

“What the fuck happened to their soup?”

I raised a brow. “Michel made it.”

Michel’s boyfriend drama had already made it around the restaurant. Twice. Chefs were a nosy bunch. Louis nodded in understanding and filled up a cup with iced tea as he looked towards where I assumed table eleven was. I actually hadn’t ever really paid attention to the front setup of Lesauvage because I had always entered through the back door.

“Fine. But I’m recommending the chocolate mousse because you’re here and you make it the best.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere,” I replied with a wink.

He grinned. “Got me into your bed, didn’t it?”

Louis and I had a fling when I had started working at Lesauvage. I was fresh out of culinary school, bright eyed and bushy tailed, and he was the experienced waiter who comforted me in the lounge my first day when my boss had completely ripped me a new one. He was the unattainable, three-years-older coworker who I was moon-eyed over for at least five months before we actually slept together. And once we had, it was like some switch had been flipped inside my body and he was suddenly nothing but a friend.

Thank the fucking lord he felt the same way.

“You’re damn right it did. Now go make me proud, Tomlinson.”

When I hastily returned to the kitchen, Italia was already ten times ahead where Michel had been with the soup. I sent her a thankful look and grabbed the beef stock, passing it her way as I grabbed a knife and began chopping the green onions for my own dish.

As much as I complained about the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, I secretly thrived in it. It was what I had missed when I had been in culinary school. So many of my classmates cooked their meals silently. When I cooked at home, I blasted music and sang loudly and off-key to myself. At work, I had the conversation of other people. I liked learning about Italia’s kids and Isobel’s ex-boyfriend who kept trying to call her. I even liked Michel, even though right now he wasn’t my favorite person in the world.

School had been lonely. At least here I felt like I belonged.

“They’re good for the chocolate mousse!” Louis shouted over the sound of Isobel doing the dishes and Italia chopping more vegetables.

“You’re a saint, Tomlinson!” I replied, dropping the spices needed onto Italia’s cutting board. She slid them into the soup with her knife and the skill of a seasoned Lesauvage veteran.

The chocolate mousse was luckily already in the fridge cooling from my prep this morning, so I didn’t have to worry about making it at that exact moment. I did finish the salad I was working on and passed it off to Sydney, who was another runner. She grabbed the plate and sped off to table seven.

The time went by quickly when I was in the kitchen. My thoughts could roam because the movements of cooking were muscle memory at this point. When I had first been hired, I had been terrified to mess anything up. The first time I had pulled a Michel, I had cried. My boss had yelled at me pretty badly, but had brought me into his office afterwards to apologize and assure me that I was doing a great job. Now, it felt like second nature to pour the green onions into the butter garlic sauce that was sautéing. And when Italia handed me the soup that she had completed, I sent her a grateful look and wasted no time in handing it off to Louis. We worked as a team here.

I thrived on that.

“Get those chocolate mousses out and ready,” I told Michel when he came back from his break. His hand didn’t look too worse for wear, but he looked decently embarrassed. I knew, at least for tonight, there would be no more mistakes.

“I’m really sorry, Dom,” he said softly, preparing for my anger.

“It’s fine, Michel. Just work on desserts for now, okay? But this is the comp dessert for table eleven, so try to pay attention, yeah?”

He hung his head, but nodded and went to go prep the mousse. It wasn’t that Michel wasn’t talented. He wouldn’t have been hired if he hadn’t been a great chef. But the boyfriend thing was really getting to him. I hoped he had at least the next two days off to recoup.

“Dom,” I heard Louis say about thirty minutes later as he walked through the kitchen door. He had the empty plates from table eleven in his hand and handed them off to Isobel. “They’re ready for the dessert.” He eyed me questionably when Michel handed them off to me, as if it was wrong that I had let Michel touch them after his little mishap but I had faith in the chefs. “These better be good,” Louis said in a warning tone.

“I made them, Tomlinson, of course they’re good,” I snapped, clicking my tongue in annoyance. It was a bad habit I had done when I was a kid and never seemed to shake it.

He shrugged, taking the completed desserts and walking back out to the restaurant. “They looked great, Michel!” I encouraged, turning to continue chopping the beef I had been working on before Louis had come in.

When I cooked, time passed by without my notice. What felt like two minutes later but was really thirty, Louis walked back into the kitchen with a solemn look on his face. “They want to see the chef.”

“Who?”

“Table eleven.”

Shit. “You said they were fine with the soup, yeah?” Louis nodded, which meant the problem was with the chocolate mousse. And since Michel had done nothing but added the whipped cream and chocolate shavings on top, if they had a real problem with the mousse, it was on me. “Fuck. Alright. Italia, can you finish this dish for me really quick?”

Italia nodded, looking up from the celery she was chopping to examine the chicken I was seasoning to see how much she would need to do to complete it. Nervously wiping my hands on my apron after I washed them quickly, I tried to make myself look a little more presentable. It was rare that chefs were invited to the front of the restaurant, so we were usually unkempt and had food on our clothes. It didn’t matter to me what I looked like as long as the food was good, but I knew it was a shock to the high-end patrons of the restaurant.

Louis led me over to table eleven, where three people were sitting. There were two men and one gorgeous woman that looked like she could model for a living. She was happily chatting and holding hands with one of the men, excitedly waving around her free hand. He looked engrossed in her story, nodding and smiling and staring at her like she was the best thing in the world. Their companion was simply taking sips of his wine (a wonderful red that went really well with the chocolate mousse and I thanked Louis for obviously recommending it to them) and pursing his lips in response to whatever the woman was saying.

She stopped talking when she noticed Louis and sent a blinding smile at us. “This is the chef, I presume?”

“Dominique Blanchard,” I said, holding out my hand for her to shake. I was thankful I had run my hands under some soap and water. We weren’t allowed to have our nails painted in case some of the varnish fell off into the food, but her fingers were perfectly manicured and painted a vibrant blue. “I’m sorry again about the soup. We had an incident in the kitchen.”

She waved it off. “The soup was fine. That chocolate mousse, however? It was to die for!”

I felt my shoulders deflate. I had been so worried that they were upset with their experience or food that I hadn’t even thought they had wanted to chat because they enjoyed their meal. “Thank you. It’s a Lesauvage specialty.”

“Dominique makes it the best,” Louis supplied helpfully from behind me. I grinned nervously.

“We all loved it,” the man holding her hand spoke, and I was surprised to hear an Irish accent. “It was the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” And I was glad it took the attention off the fact that their soup was late. The other man stayed quiet, simply ignoring the conversation as he sipped at his wine again.

“I have the weirdest proposition for you. Please feel free to say no if you don’t want to, but I would kick myself if I didn’t ask.”

My eyes strayed back to the woman, who was talking to me politely.

“I’m two months pregnant,” she said happily, her hand going to her stomach like most pregnant women did when their pregnancy was announced, “and I’m so incredibly exhausted nowadays. I can barely muster up enough energy to come out to dinner, let alone make myself toast in the morning. And your chocolate mousse was the only thing I’ve been able to keep down for more than thirty minutes. I was wondering if you’d ever consider being a personal chef?”

Chefs at Lesauvage being asked to become personal chefs for celebrities or rich individuals wasn’t as uncommon as one would think. The chef I had replaced had left to become a personal chef for some actress who split her time between London and Los Angeles. As far as I knew, he simply travelled with her. But it was the first time the suggestion had ever been brought up to me, the first time that someone had liked my food that much.

Which was why my mouth comically fell open.

“I could pay you plenty!” she said, which led me to believe she was well-off. Well, that and the fact that she was eating at Lesauvage, which wasn’t exactly known for their cheap meal choices. “I just...I’m so tired all the time. The doctor said it was normal, but I don’t even want to get up out of bed sometimes. And I’m only two months along! I can’t imagine trying to cook myself meals when I’m eight months. You’d cook some things for Niall and Harry too, of course.” She gestured to the two males sitting with her.

“This is...I’m sorry, this is just incredibly unexpected,” I managed to stutter out.

“Of course, I’m so sorry I’m just flinging this on you. How about I give you my number and I’ll get back to you in about a week or so? Will that give you enough time to think it over?”

“Yes, of course.” Taking her number wouldn’t hurt, I told myself. She had a little card in her wallet with her information on it, and I saw that she actually was a model.

“I’ll be in touch soon. Thank you so much, Dominique. I’ll probably be dreaming about that chocolate mousse for the next six months.”

I was able to laugh at her joke even though it still felt like someone had shaken me into a concussion. I exchanged goodbyes with the three of them as they left the restaurant, leaving a more than generous tip for Louis.

“Well that was nice of them,” Louis said, clapping me on my shoulder. “Think about it, yeah? It’s not the worst idea in the world.”

It wasn’t. But I couldn’t think about the proposition until my shift was done tonight.

Welcome to the world of Mise en Place! I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter and are as excited to read this fic as I am to share it!

#1dff #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #mep

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snowe-zolynn-rogers · 3 years

Text

Pairings: Past Aizawa/Mandalay

Word Count: 1,921 Words

Summary: Hitoshi and Katsuki's birthday.

Warnings: Period Mention, Menstruation Mention, Food Mention, Nightmare Mention, Death Mention, Cursing, Caps, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Usernames: Existence Is A Prison Aizawa: feral cat dad, Aoyama: gay salt, Hagakure: ranch flavored jello, Tokoyami: foil-mecha, Shinsou: farmer toshi, Kuroiro: life is a nightmare, Shiozaki: saviour, Tsunotori: schrodinger better run, Honenuki: pure, Monoma: nat20, Yamada: President Megaphone, Bakugou: deku-deck-you

Aizawa, We Agreed No More Cats: Chapter 7

6:25 AM

Existence Is A Prison

pure: It's a birthday! That means birthday breakfasts are in order!

life is a nightmare: Kiyo made everyone yakisoba buns with enoki and I made soup dumplings to celebrate.

farmer toshi: You two are so sweet, thank you.

deku deck-you: Thanks, girls.

pure: No problem!

saviour: I will not be attending class today. I will not be leaving my room today.

feral cat dad: What's wrong?

saviour: Painful period. Dysphoria. Hate living.

feral cat dad: I'm sorry, kid. I'll tell Vlad you're dehydrated and have Nemuri take care of you, she'll know more than me, but I'll bring a hot water bottle, food, and some company for you in the meantime.

saviour: Thank you, Mr. Aizawa.

feral cat dad: I am the father collective here, it's only fair I parent my child.

8:30 AM

Existence Is A Prison

nat20: I'm recording the classes for you so you don't miss anything, Ibara, dear.

saviour: Thank you, Seiko.

nat20: Not a problem, love. I don't want to see you falling behind when you don't deserve to. I mean, it's surely not your fault uterus' exist.

saviour: You're amazing.

nat20: I know.

12:45 PM

Existence Is A Prison

schrodinger better run: I'm bringing over lunch, Ibara.

saviour: You're all too nice to me. I shouldn't even be in bed still.

schrodinger better run: Ibara, honey, we're nice because we care about you. You deserve to rest this off and see when you feel better. There's no rushing yourself. I'm sure that, once you rest up a bit, Recovery Girl can help 'heal' the cramps or at least tone them down a bit.

saviour: Still, thank you. All of you.

2:04 PM

Existence Is A Prison

gay salt: I think this is hilarious, personally.

nat20: What's even happening over in 1-A, you guys have been yelling and all for like ten minutes.

gay salt: birthdayboysinbirthdayhats.jpg

gay salt: Shinsou had to come deliver something to Mr. Aizawa from Mr. Snipe's class and now everyone is questioning Kats and Hito if they're twins and Midoriya's trying to chill everyone out. Really, you should be here, Seiko.

nat20: They are twins. I mean, practically, yes, they are.

ranch flavored jello: I know, it's great. The best part is that everyone is in such a heated debate about it.

feral cat dad: I have no clue what's even happening but I'm not gonna stop this unless Katsuki or Hitoshi says something.

foil-mecha: ourclassrightnow.jpg

schrodinger better run: Todoroki, please. It's not that deep, man.

foil-mecha: I don't think he cares, honestly.

nat20: I heard more screaming. Vlad King is starting to get concerned.

foil-mecha: They said they are twins and Midoriya's trying to ask why Katsuki's mother cheated on his father. This is the funniest thing, honestly.

3:15 PM

Existence Is A Prison

gay salt: Okay, I found the 2006 First Year Sports Festival and I just need you all to see Mr. Aizawa as our age.

gay salt: younglankyaizawamidbattlewithtensei.jpg

foil-mecha: Mr. Aizawa, you were tiny.

feral cat dad: To be fair, I was an idiot kid and didn't eat well until like a week prior to that Sports Festival.

ranch flavored jello: I'll punt kick you, Dad.

feral cat dad: Yeah, yeah, I know. I started eating better after that, I promise.

gay salt: lankyaizawatakingdowntensei.jpg

nat20: Mr. Aizawa was a strong little stringbean.

feral cat dad: If you call me a stringbean again, I'll make you do garbage duty for a month.

nat20: That's normal, Father Collective.

feral cat dad: Curse these children being functional human beings.

President Megaphone: At least we know they clean up after each other and themselves.

President Megaphone: Plus, you were a stringbean, Shouta, so it's a fair statement.

deku deck-you: Wait, I just realized Mr. Aizawa told us he was divorced.

gay salt: Oh yeah, he did and nobody even questioned it!

ranch flavored jello: To be fair, we were busy introducing ourselves.

feral cat dad: Yeah, I was married for a while after high school. Maybe a year, I think.

President Megaphone: 10 months and 17 days from December 2010 to October 2011. I still think it's funny you didn't even spend one birthday married.

farmer toshi: Dad, what happened!?

feral cat dad: Well, you see, I had pressure put on me to get married to a girl I knew because we both weren't out yet as gay and lesbian, respectively, and we both realized during our marriage that it wasn't working so we went through a mutual divorce and are still friends.

President Megaphone: Yeah, Shouta and Sosaki are friends.

life is a nightmare: Shino Sosaki? Mandalay from the Wild Wild Pussycats?

feral cat dad: The one and only.

life is a nightmare; Wow.

9:52 PM

Existence Is A Prison

schrodinger better run: Dating sucks.

feral cat dad: Why, what's up, Pony?

schrodinger better run: My gf broke up with me because she realized I'm actually in Japan. I mean, I told her a hundred times but she never believed me that I was going international. for high school.

deku deck-you: Eh, the trash got rid of itself from what it sounds like.

schrodinger better run: I mean, I'm kind of happy because she never really liked me for more than just saying she was dating a cute girl but I also feel bad about being happy that we're broken up.

ranch flavored jello: Ice cream and cry?

schrodinger better run: Thank you, Toru, it's much appreciated.

2:26 AM

Existence Is A Prison

farmer toshi: Hey, dad?

feral cat dad: Yes?

farmer toshi: Can I sleep in your room?

feral cat dad: Yeah, sure, come on. Don't let the cats out.

farmer toshi: You're not even gonna ask me why?

feral cat dad: Should it matter?

farmer toshi: Well, I don't think so. I just don't want to have another nightmare but usually the caregivers at the orphanage would ask for a good reason.

feral cat dad: Well, you don't need one with me. Just don't let the cats out is my only request. Ai has figured out how to open the kitchen door and will get lost on UA grounds again.

farmer toshi: Kumo is staring at me while I open the door.

feral cat dad: Yeah, he's like that. Just ignore him, focus more of keeping Ai from making a break for it.

farmer toshi: Alright.

11:04 AM

Existence Is A Prison

feral cat dad: Alright, I was going through you kids' files during my free period and Tsunotori, your birthday is today.

schrodinger better run: Oh, I don't like celebrating my birthday. I haven't celebrated it since I was six.

feral cat dad: Why, what happened?

schrodinger better run: My cousin from my biological family made fun of my feet, we got in a fight, and I couldn't explain to defend myself so I got grounded and wasn't allowed to celebrate my birthday so I just haven't celebrated it since then.

feral cat dad: Is there still a day we can celebrate with you that isn't today?

schrodinger better run: I like celebrating my adoption date as my new birthday. October 7th.

feral cat dad: I'll put a reminder for that.

saviour: Wait, are you putting all of our birthdays as reminders?

feral cat dad: Perhaps.

7:15 AM

Existence Is A Prison

foil-mecha: I'm going to the convenience store before school for breakfast in class because I want sandos and energy drinks. Anyone else want? Say yes.

feral cat dad: YES.

foil-mecha: Are you okay? You responded in like one second.

feral cat dad: I'm just realizing I like someone and I'm suffering.

gay salt: Please.

nat20: Yes.

farmer toshi: Two redbulls and anything with egg, please.

saviour: Fruit if it's there.

pure: Yes.

schrodinger better run: Yes, I'm so hungry.

life is a nightmare: Ham is preferred, please and thank you.

ranch flavored jello: Yes, food.

deku deck-you: Yes, please.

foil-mecha: Everyone will receive redbulls and sandos.

8:15 AM

Existence Is A Prison

foil-mecha: I got held up, there was a villain attack right outside the store when I got there. I'm with food and drink and on my way back.

feral cat dad: I've already written you a pass, it's taped to the wall just inside the gate, have fun delivering food to Hitoshi.

8:25 AM

Existence Is A Prison

farmer toshi: Tokoyami is a god.

farmer toshi: tworedbullsandthreesandos.jpg

nat20: Wow, he likes you.

foil-mecha: Oh, I got three for everyone. I just grabbed a bunch so everyone can pick.

nat20: Be careful at 1b, Mr. Kan is one of those 'bring something for yourself, share it with everyone' type of teachers.

foil-mecha: And I'll tell him to fuck off because us dorm kids didn't eat breakfast this morning.

deku deck-you: Yeah, our poor stove is dead.

ranch flavored jello: It wasn't my fault! I promise! I was just cooking and it died!

feral cat dad: To be fair, it is old. I think that thing's been there since I was in UA.

8:35 AM

Existence Is A Prison

nat20 has started a video chat

[Tokoyami opening door and Vlad King stops teaching and stares at him]

Kid, you're not my student. Your class is down the hall, are you lost? -Unknown

Hey, Pony, Kiyo. Here, pick three each and a drink or two. -foil-mecha

Young man, you can't just waltz into my classroom and hand unsolicited food to only two students. -Unknown

[Kiyomi and Pony are shown grabbing their sandos and redbulls from the large bag Tokoyami came in with]

You're right, I'm not. Ibara, Kageya, Seiko, come get yours too. I found a cool one I think you'll like, Ibara. -foil-mecha

Oh? What is it? -saviour

Well, I heard you say you like apples and melon. I found you a sando with both. -foil-mecha

I'm in love with you. -saviour

Sure, yeah Get your food, I need to get to 1-A. -foil-mecha

You should be in there now! This isn't your class! -Unknown

Sir? Sir. I really don't care. I have a pass from Mr. Aizawa and I'm literally about to leave. Our oven broke in the dorms so none of us ate breakfast this morning. I went to get us all breakfast and got held up with a villain attack. Kindly, sir, I think even Nezu would be unhappy if even a single one of us hero course students weren't eating breakfast this close to the Sports Festival. So, you feel free to carry on your lesson. Let just the five of your students eat their breakfast. I promise, it won't disrupt you further than it has. -foil-mecha

Fine. -Unknown

nat20 has ended the video chat

gay salt: I love Tokoyami. I do.

foil-mecha: My mothers and fathers didn't raise a carpet, I don't exist to be stepped on by authority figures.

nat20: Thanks, Fumi. I'm starving.

foil-mecha: Anything for my friends.

ranch flavored: ALL HAIL FOOD GOD TOKOYAMI

feral cat dad: Bringer of Energy Drink, Keeper of the Sando.

gay salt: We all love you, Fumi.

foil-mecha: What a time to be alive, being adored by my peers and teacher AND getting to tell off an annoying teacher?

feral cat dad: God, yes, sando time. Gimme.

gay salt: aizawaeatingasandolikeaferalcat.jpg

nat20: Thanks, I'm scarred for life having witnessed Feralzawa.

farmer toshi: I love you, Fumi.

foil-mecha: Seems that's everyone's sentiment this morning.

farmer toshi: I'll get a crush, fucker, don't tempt me.

foil-mecha: Alright, alright.

Taglist: @everythingisstardust

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sadstrikers · 4 years

Text

(I wrote this in my notes so the spacing is kinda weird on here.) Anyways, I couldn’t get the idea of Andrew with his nieces out of my head.

So here you go, an Andrew w/ kids AU.

Aaron looked impatient as his twin toddler girls held tight to Andrew, Katelyn on the other hand was pressing soothing hands onto each of their backs. The girls had been attached to Andrew’s hip, arms, legs; really anything they could get their small hands onto, as soon as their parents had entered the apartment.

“I know you two want to stay, but you’ll get to see him Monday.” Katelyn assured the two girls. It was currently Friday and miraculously both Katelyn and Aaron had gotten the weekend off.

That seemed to be enough for Lucy who immediately let go and trotted over to her mother’s arms. Claire on the other hand refused to let go of Andrew, her small pout seemed to win Aaron over because a moment later he squatted down.

“Claire, I know you love Uncle Andrew but you have to come home now. You’ll get to see him in a few days.”

Andrew sat through the whole exchange with a frown, even after four years he still couldn’t fathom why these two adored him as much as they did. He hadn’t changed much since his college days. He was till brutal, still cold, but somehow the barrier he had built to protect himself had opened for these two.

“I’ll see you Monday,” Andrew said quietly, handing a screaming Claire over to Aaron.

When the small family finally left, Andrew went to the kitchen and grabbed a pint of ice cream and a bottle of red wine from the cabinet. He pulled a cork screw from one of the many drawers and popped open the bottle, taking a swig before settling in on the new leather couch he had purchased recently.

A book lay discarded beside a pile of paperwork his managers had demanded he get done before the weekend was up. The Exy team he played for had required that alongside his managers he hired a PR manager for himself. The alternative being that they find one for him, Andrew couldn’t bring himself to care either way.

Andrew settled into the couch, working his way through the double fudge ice cream and reading a book. The tv played quietly in the background until it was well past midnight and Andrew decided it was time for bed.

—

Since both Aaron and Katelyn worked as doctors, it was hard to find a babysitter who would put up with odd hours. Aaron found it much easier to drop the twins off at Andrew’s anytime he was on his way to work.

Andrew didn’t mind either, keeping up with the girls was much easier than looking after Kevin had ever been during college.

Andrew has just managed to get a few chores done when Aaron knocked and opened the front door. Claire was the first to stumble through the door, dressing in a yellow dress and white shoes, her platinum hair pulled back into pigtails. Lucy, always the late sleeper, was half-awake in her father’s arms.

“Here’s the diaper bag, I’ve been up all night with Lucy. Think she has a cold.” Aaron mumbled, looking no better than his sick daughter.

Andrew nodded, taking the diaper bag and Lucy from his brother, careful not to make any unnecessary contact. Aaron bent down to give Claire a hug before heading for the door.

“Mommy will be back to get you,” he paused, frowning, “sometime tonight.”

The girls didn’t seem to mind, already climbing onto Andrew’s couch and snuggling into the cushions. Andrew draped a fuzzy red blanket over the two girls and continued with his chores, using a kids movie as background noise.

—

A few hours pass of Andrew aimlessly cleaning, a steaming pit of soup on the stove for Lucy and two cut out sandwiches for himself and Claire. Lucy was sitting up, her face a light shade of pink, when Andrew brought the dishes into the livingroom area.

Claire grabbed for her sandwich, almost immediately sinking her teeth into the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Andrew gave the toddler sized bowl to Lucy before settling in between the girls.

“What show?” Andrew glances at the two of them, scrolling through the kids section on Hulu.

“Hm,” Claire pursed her lips, something she had picked up from Katelyn. “You pick!”

Andrew scrolled through the selection until he settled on a movie instead, Frozen. The girls giggled in delight at his choice.

“You always pick the best movies, Uncle Andrew!” Claire all but screamed after the movie was over, Lucy had fallen asleep leaned against Andrew’s side halfway through.

“Shh,” Andrew places a finger to his lips, “don’t wake your sister.”

The other girl nodded and snuggled closer to Andrew.

—

When Katelyn arrived to pick up the girls, Lucy was still asleep. A worried frown graced Katelyn’s lips. “How long has she been asleep?”

“Since 2, she at least ate some soup.” Andrew informed her.

The relationship between the two was still rocky at best, but Andrew thought it was only right to let Katelyn know about her child. Aaron and Andrew has been attending joint therapy sessions since the end of college so their relationship had improved a bit.

And of course with Andrew being the unofficial babysitter of the girls, the three had grown to an understanding. Andrew would do just about anything for the girls, and actually enjoyed spending time with someone other than himself. It was hardly any work at all actually, as much as Aaron had worried if he would be a good father, the girls so far were well mannered and cried hardly ever.

Andrew shut the door behind Katelyn and the girls after a long goodbye. Claire, once again, not wanting to leave and Katelyn bribing her with ice cream whenever they returned home.

Andrew tugged off his armbands and settled into bed with a book and the tv turned on for background noise. Before opening his book he stared out at the tv and thought about what he was going to do when the girls started going to elementary school.

#the foxhole court #aftg #andriel #kevin day #all for the game #dan wilds #aaron minyard #katelyn minyard #katelyn aftg #aftg fandom #aftg headcanon #aftg hc #neil josten #andrew minyard

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the-river-person · 3 years

Text

Sweet Revalations

“I don’t really think he gets the whole joke thing. He used to come in while I was at work and ask me stuff like ‘Hey Burgy! What do you think of this joke for my next ice cream wrapper?’ They were never actually jokes, but I didn’t really want to be mean so I just told him they were great.” Seamus was clearly enjoying himself. One thing Papyrus had discovered about the odd Cat Monster was that he really truthfully did find pleasure in complaining about relatively minor inconveniences. Whereas most people were more apt to go on about major disasters and terrible events, Seamus took these in stride with remarkable grace, even more so than usual since he was no longer working in retail. But anything that could be looked at as trivial or unimportant? He would gleefully launch into endless rants about how awful and terrible they were and how his life was wasted at only nineteen. Once he’d figured this out, Papyrus began to find the conversations between them rather amusing instead of depressing. It was nice to know that some people coped through different methods, because now that he knew, he could tell when they really needed his help. Vaguely, he wondered if Sans had coping methods he was unaware of. The puns and jokes were one thing, though Sans hadn’t been joking much at all lately, and it was beginning to become worrying. He almost wished that Sans were a complainer after all, then maybe he would at least know what was wrong. His various attempts to get Sans to see a therapist had all gone much the same way. “Sure bro,” his brother would say, and then simply never do it. It was exactly the same as the sock on the Living Room floor. A never ending chain of back and forth sticky notes that culminated in absolutely nothing. The sock was still there, not that Papyrus really minded much, it had become more of a joke than a real source of contention. But the issue of his brother’s mental and emotional state was something else. Napstablook was hovering near to the kitchen table, politely listening to Seamus’ endless tirade as it jumped from topic to topic without ever quite seeming to stop, while Papyrus hovered over the stove. The three of them had actually begun to spend quite a bit of time together in the past few weeks. It was nice to have someone who was involved in things, but not so much that they all felt the need to be on high alert at every moment. The Ghost Monster themself definitely struggled with self confidence issues, but that was something that Papyrus DID know how to help, and he cheerfully peppered Napstablook with endless compliments and encouragement whenever they spent any time together. It was all genuine, there really wasn’t much point in complimenting people just to make them feel better, or so Papyrus felt. All that did was make them feel worse when they realized that it wasn’t true. So instead he sought out things he liked about the Ghost, or things that he thought were admirable or good in some way, and he complimented those. It was clearly having an effect, Napstablook had started smiling more, and wasn’t quite as likely to leave mid conversation anymore. “What did he write?” the Ghost Monster asked as Seamus paused in order to actually take a breath. “Oh,” Seamus said looking surprised. “I forgot to say, sorry. There were a couple of them, but one of the weirder ones was where he’d drawn a picture of two guys hugging and wrote ‘I love hugs!’ on it.” Papyrus carefully measured third of a teaspoon’s worth of cayenne into the soup he was attempting to make. Aside from Spaghetti he’d begun trying his hand at other things, and savory foods always turned out the best so far, though he struggled with desserts. It was strange, he thought as he stirred the mixture. He’d never known the Nice Cream vendor to put jokes on the wrappers. The whole point was that they said nice things to the person who bought them. And as far as he could recall none of his ice cream wrappers had ever had drawings on them, at least not any that he hadn’t put himself. “HAVE YOU EVER CONSIDERED,” he said, turning to speak to them. “THAT HE MIGHT HAVE BEEN FLIRTING WITH YOU?” It was the obvious answer. Going out of the way to talk to someone and meet them, giving them gifts, etc. And really the hug thing was a really big hint, though apparently not as easy to spot as you would think. The look on Seamus’ face was one of complete and utter shock. “You think he was...flirting?” he said. His fur prevented Papyrus from seeing whether or not he was blushing, but it was clear enough that he was both intrigued and slightly embarrassed by the idea. Unfortunately the conversation wasn’t destined to continue because at that moment Sans entered the house. “WELCOME, BROTHER!” Papyrus greeted him cheerfully, noting the tired way Sans was holding himself despite the grin. “I’M ALMOST DONE WITH THE SOUP. HOW WAS THE KING?” Sans sighed and claimed a chair at the table, nodding to Napstablook and Seamus as he did so. “Not great. He still won’t leave the door in the Forest. Says he’ll stay there till he gets an answer. I don’t think its gonna happen, she’s not coming back.” “Ooooh. Is Toriel still angry with him?” asked Napstablook. “She’s been angry for a long time. Sometimes she would pace up and down the corridors for hours, muttering angrily to herself. Nobody wanted to get in her way, even if she wouldn’t really hurt anyone.” They all stared at them, and they looked slightly taken aback. “You’ve been in the ruins?” Sans asked, a thoughtful expression on his face. Napstablook nodded slowly and San’s grin became brighter than it had been a moment before and his sockets almost twinkled with excitement. “I think you might be the answer we’ve been looking for.”

#napstablook #seamus #burgerpants #papyrus #toriel dreemurr #undertale #sans the skeleton #the great papyrus #aeontale #asgore dreemurr #snowdin town #snowdin woods

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trashboatprince · 4 years

Text

I spent all day coming up with drabble ideas for Nanny and Francis because I am a sucker for this version of the Ineffable Husbands, and there needs to be more content, so here we go. Actually, this one isn’t really a drabble, it’s a long one.

Summery: The cook quits after some problems and Nanny volunteers Francis to take over until the family can hire a new one, leaving the poor man frazzled. Don’t worry, angel, you come highly recommended.

Ship: Ineffable Husbands, Nanny and Gardener edition

Ashtoreth smelled something familiar in the air, stirring her from her sleep. The clock said it was two in the morning, ah, that makes sense. With a smirk, the demon got out of bed, heading towards the kitchen of the large Dowling home.

Crowley, rather than Ashtoreth, found the kitchen’s doors closed, but there was a light on from under the crack of them. He couldn’t hear a sound, but he knew why. As quietly as he could, he opened the doors and stepped inside, nearly chuckling at the sight.

Dressed in his old nightgown was Aziraphale, not Brother Francis, not a trace of that disguise anywhere, carefully folding something in a pan on the stove.

“Wanted to have a nibble of crepes, eh?” Crowley spoke up, startling the angel.

“M-My dear..! Don’t do that!” Aziraphale hissed, setting the pan aside. “And how did you know I was up? I made sure no sounds could come from the kitchen while I was cooking.”

“I can smell better than a human, angel.” Crowley replied, sticking out his tongue. “Crepes, huh?”

“Felt like having a treat! I made you some, put a bit of brandy in them, for flavor. I was going to serve you them in the morning, but since you’re up...” The blond smiled, gesturing his hand towards a plate full of them, before his newest one was put on top.

Crowley gave a shrug, approaching to grab one. “I really shouldn’t eat at night, heard it sticks to you worse.”

“That’s a load of bullocks if you ask me.” Aziraphale replied as he got himself one, happily taking a bite. “Just enjoy it, you’ve earned it! You’ve been working so hard lately, my dearest. Warlock is in his terrible twos, I’ve caught sight of him giving you trouble.”

The demon chuckled a little, taking a bite of his own. “Ah, yes, he’s taken to greatly giving me Hell. Things are looking up for the hellspawn.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, but he’s also got the curiosity of someone who is happy to pet an animal with no desire to bring them harm. Ah, just today, a bird landed on my hand and he was so excited! He even tried to talk to it, such a good lad.”

“Hm.” Crowley took another bite, looking around the kitchen. “Heard the cook was gonna quit.”

“What? Really? I rather like Miss Birch, any reason why?”

“Says the idiot American guards keep trying to hit on her, and one grabbed her ass yesterday, she’s beyond pissed. If he does it again, she’s out.”

“I hope she doesn’t leave, I like that one soup she makes, you know, the one we had last week.”

Crowley shrugged. “We’ll see. If anything happens, I’m sure you can handle the kitchen.” He heard the angel choke on his bite of crepe. “What? Don’t like the idea?”

“I-I am meant to be the gardener here! As if the Dowlings would allow me to cook for them..!” Aziraphale stammered. “Heck, even the staff doesn’t like me eating with them, I doubt they’d like for me to cook for them.”

The redhead frowned deeply, the staff didn’t like Francis eating with them? Might explain why he always waits for them to finish before coming in to eat, or he simply eats outside. Sometimes he sits and eats with Ashtoreth when she is giving Warlock a bottle, or a snack.

“Well, if they give you trouble, they can deal with me.” He turned and kissed Aziraphale on the cheek. “Clean up and go to bed, got work tomorrow, Francis.” He winked and walked out, leaving the flustered man behind.

“Brother Francis.”

Francis paused as he stepped into the kitchen from the backyard door, looking away from the basket of fresh fruits he had picked to see the nanny who stood inside with Mrs. Dowling.

“Y-yes, ma’am?” He asked, confused. Ashtoreth’s face was calm, but Harriet looked a bit panicked.

“The cook left. Mrs. Birch said that Thomas touched her again, she then struck him with a ladle and walked out.” Ashtoreth spoke up, folding her hands on the island of the kitchen. He knew she was keeping a neutral expression, but six thousand years of knowing the demon let Francis know that she was clearly saying ‘I told you so’ in the tiniest twitches of her face.

“I’m terribly sorry to here that, Madam Dowlin’.” Francis frowned, turning to the American woman. “Anythin’ I can be of help with?”

“Yes,” Harriet spoke, glancing at the nanny before looking at the gardener, “Nanny Ashtoreth, uhh... she said that you were an excellent chef in your own right.”

Francis snapped his attention to the redhead, who had the most wicked of smirks on her face before it was gone in the blink of an eye. Snake in the grass!

“Yeeessss...” He started, turning his attention back to his ‘boss’. “I know a thing ‘er two around a kitchen, use to cook meself up some delights and treats all the time when livin’ alone. If you be needin’ someone to cook up some meals until you get new help, I’d be more then happy to do so fer you.”

“Oh great!” She smiled, looking and sounding so thankful. “We’ll even pay you a bit extra for this!” She headed out, saying she needed to make some calls, put in a new ad in the papers.

Once she was out of the room, Francis approached Ashtoreth. “My dear, you know darn well I ain’t one fer cookin’ for others.” She smirked again. “Except for you. You are mah exception.”

“Oh come now, Francis.” She leaned in close, touching his cheek with a gloved hand, and he couldn’t suppress the shudder he felt as she gently trailed a finger to his chin, gently lifting his head up to look at her. Damn her for being tall already, and now even more so with those heels. “Don’t you love doing good things for people? It’s an angel’s duty, right?”

“M-Ma’am..?” He wheezed before getting a kiss on the lips. Wow, normally he was the one who was starting the kissing, he had no problems when Ashtoreth did it though.

“If you do this, there will be more where that came from.” She spoke as she pulled back, lowering her shades to wink at him.

This snapped him to attention. “E-excuse me!? Are you trying to tempt me into cooking!?” Aziraphale exclaimed, getting a laugh from the demon.

“I think I’ve been letting you have too much fun with all the tempting you’ve done to me lately since we’ve been here, angel. Besides, I know you love to cook, and I was thinking you and I could go out to the store with Warlock, get some things for dinner. I’ll even pay.”

He looked at the redhead suspiciously. “And what shall I be making?”

“I was thinking... sushi? Maybe even some ginger chicken on rice?”

Aziraphale perked up. “Let me go get changed then!”

Ashtoreth wanted to kick herself.

She had suggested Francis to Harriet because she knew the man could cook, his love for food was borderline a fetish of sorts for him, no angel loved food and cooking like Aziraphale did. He was always quick to study up on new treats and meals he had eaten at places, something he’d love to try at home with his own hands.

What sleep was to Crowley, cooking was to Aziraphale.

The same was for Ashtoreth and Francis, you can’t give up old habits just because you’re pretending to be human to watch over the Antichrist.

She had made the suggestion simply because she didn’t trust anyone else in the house, hell, she didn’t even know if she could trust a new cook to make food for her. Mrs. Birch was nice, but her meals were nothing like what Aziraphale could create when he had whatever he needed for whatever thing he was craving.

She had went to the store with him, letting him happily grab up everything needed, along with things for the rest of the week as he was going to be making dinner and breakfast for the household. Once he got himself into the element, into the mindset of experimenting and being in an element that he was much more familiar with (since gardening was never his strong point), he had relaxed.

Sure, Francis would be stuck cooking for more people than just the usual one or two, but Ashtoreth told him that they didn’t have to eat in the staff dining room, they could just eat in the kitchen together, just them.

And she even said she’d help him, which is why she wanted to kick herself.

Francis was out of the stupid smock of his, he was dressed more like Aziraphale. Snake eyes, hidden behind shades, watched him as he worked on sticky rice with hands that could do it simply from muscle memory, studying his body in clothes much more familiar to him.

Dark brown pants hugged him in all the right places, his belt held the angel’s signature tartan pattern, as the poor fool couldn’t bare to part with it for the sake of a disguise. His shirt was cream, buttoned up, with the top two undone, revealing his neck, strange to see him without something around his neck, and it almost seemed scandalous to her.

Even more so was the fact that his sleeves were rolled up too, showing more skin than Ashtoreth had seen in years from him.

Francis had forgone his buck teeth, his muttonchops were still there, but looked so much tamer. He looked good, really good, her angel looked like a man who had been working outside all day, deciding to step inside to help her out with dinner.

She slapped her cheek, stop that, idiot! Just cause the two of you are more open in a home where Heaven and Hell have no eyes on you, doesn’t mean you can get soft with thoughts of a domestic lifestyle!

Still... would be nice, Crowley couldn’t deny that, it was a bit of a dream to live out life in a nice home with Aziraphale. Even demons were allowed cheesy, dumb thoughts like this, right?

If not, fuck those who say know, Crowley deserved this!

“I think it’s ready.” Francis spoke, catching Ashtoreth’s attention as he gently set a bit of sushi on a tray. He smiled brightly at her. “Darling, could you alert the waitstaff to take things out to them? I’ll finish up in here, I do believe Warlock needs his dinner.”

“Ah, r-right, yes.” She huffed, straightening up as she grabbed the meal she prepared for the hellspawn and stepped from the kitchen.

After the meals were brought to the family and the staff, and Warlock was fed, Ashtoreth returned to the kitchen to check up on Francis, surprised by what she found inside.

At the breakfast table, a beautiful meal had been set up, and Francis stood at one end, filling a glass of white wine. He looked up, smiling. “My dear, dinner is served.”

Ashtoreth blinked, before laughing a bit, moving over to him. “You weren’t excited about making sushi or cooking again, you just wanted a date night!”

“That might be a reason, yes.” Francis smile, pulling out the chair for the nanny, who sat down. He then kissed her on the cheek. “Sure, we could go to the Ritz on our day off, or even to that one place you like in Soho, but where’s the fun of it when I can just make you a delicious dinner in here? Prepared just the way my favorite snake likes it?”

“Bites that can be swallowed in one go and lots of alcohol?” She asked, her lips curving up.

“Oh, of course!” Francis spoke up before he took his seat. “I know exactly how my dear enjoys her meals!” He held up his glass, taking a sip.

“Oh, and Ashtoreth?” He continued, looking at her. “Next time you suggest me for something, please actually discuss it with me first.”

“Ha! Then where’s the fun in that, angel? I’m a demon! I do gotta give you some trouble, right?”

“Just for that, I’m taking your salmon roll.”

“Hey! No, that’s mine, you thief!”

END

I think this has become a whole au, where Aziraphale and Crowley are being dumb and in love with each other like this cause they can get away with more openly. Everything I write for them is dumb and lovey-dovey and I can’t stop.

Thanks for reading!

#good omens #ineffable husbands #anthony j crowley #nanny ashtoreth #aziraphale #brother francis #john's drabbles

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slusheeduck · 4 years

Text

On The Trolley

Happy birthday to my all-time favorite Disney movie, Princess and the Frog!!

I wrote this for the Blue Skies and Sunshine Charity Zine to celebrate, and I hope you have a real sockdolager of a time reading it!

This was a day in history. It was monumental, it was astounding. To use an American phrase, it was a real sockdolager.

On this day, he, Prince Naveen of Maldonia, was going to make the best chef in New Orleans, in America, in the world gumbo. And he was going to do it entirely, 100% by himself.

It was, after all, the perfect anniversary gift—if there were two things Tiana loved, it was good food and hard work. And Naveen had every intention of giving both to her in spades. Sure, Tiana was the chef of the family and usually cooked, but after being married to her for this long, he was much more than just a mincer now. He actually could treat her.

Probably.

Initially, he’d been very confident. He hadn’t worried when he’d come up with the idea. He’d been calm as anything when he told Madimi Eudora his plan. He’d hardly doubted himself as he took Padim James’ handwritten recipe and copied it down. He’d only had a nervous excitement as he bought the ingredients.

It was when the ingredients and the big gumbo pot was all set in front of him that Naveen began to think that maybe—just maybe—he was in over his head. This was…a lot. There was so much to do—cleaning shrimp, cooking rice, getting the right hits of heat. And ordinarily, he’d take a breath and dive in; so long as he had a recipe, he could manage. But…this was Tiana’s father’s recipe. Naveen knew that she loved her father more than anything, and he had to honor his father-in-law’s spirit, even if he’d never met him. This wasn’t just throwing food in a pot and hoping for the best. This was special.

And that, that was what terrified him.

He took a breath as he looked down at the recipe again, pushing his hands through his hair as he let it out and looked heavenward.

“If you can, Padim James, I’d really appreciate some help,” he murmured.

There was no sign from above, not even a flicker of the lights. But there wasn’t any time to lose. So Naveen set the recipe to the side, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work. The prep was easy as anything: he could make rice in his sleep now, and, while cleaning shrimp is never fun, he’d done it enough times now to hardly be phased by it. So all that was left was making the actual gumbo. First up was the roux.

And…he burned it.

But he had plenty of flour and butter! So he just had to try again. It wasn’t that hard, he knew. Just had to get it smooth and cooked enough for that beautiful caramel color and…

He burned it again.

Well, third time’s the charm! That was the saying, yes? No, maybe it was fourth time’s the charm. Well, it definitely wasn’t seventh time’s the charm. At that point, he was pretty sure people used the phrase “Quit while you’re ahead”.

Naveen groaned, dragging a flour-covered hand down his face. It shouldn’t be this hard. He’d seen Tiana do it plenty of times! Maybe she had some…special cooking power that made her excellent at making a roux. It wouldn’t surprise him; in a city where princes got turned into frogs and alligators wanted to play the trumpet, it was hardly shocking that a (beautiful, brilliant, hard-working) woman would have a god-given ability to cook. Well. He could always just take her out dancing, or help her make dinner. That would be a decent anniversary.

No. That was the easy way out, and Prince Naveen of Maldonia did not take the easy way anymore. He had to put in the work if he wanted the payoff, and Tiana deserved every bit of effort he had to offer. But…how?

Naveen pushed a hand through his hair as he looked over the flour-covered stove, sucking in his lips before crossing his arms. He could do this. He just had to stop and think for a little bit. If Tiana had been blessed by the cooking gods (and he was sure that she was), then she should be the perfect example of what he should do. He shut his eyes, thinking of all the times he’d hovered over her shoulder as she stirred, all the times he’d been her sous-chef on a busy night at Tiana’s Palace, all the times they’d come home late from a night on the town and she insisted on whipping up something for them before they went to bed. Every motion, from whisking cream to chopping okra to giving a frying pan a hard shake, was pure joy to watch. When she was truly in her element, watching her work with food was like…was like watching a band conductor, pulling music out of everything at her fingertips and filling it with her soul before gifting it out to the world.

And music, Naveen understood very well. He just had to find it.

He took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders before returning to the stove. Melt the butter, add the flour…don’t get distracted and keep stirring. He tapped his foot, matching the rhythmic scrape of the spoon against the pan. Ah, there had been his issue: he wasn’t keeping time! This wasn’t a mad stir, it was just 4/4. Now he was…what was the phrase? Now he was on the trolley.

He gave himself just a moment to preen as he noticed the roux had gone smooth and turned a beautiful caramel brown (remarkably close to Tiana’s eyes, actually), then set to work with the rest of the gumbo. Now, the music was easy to find: he could hear a ragtime in his chopping, a waltz in his stirring—achedanza, you could practically dance a Charleston to the crackle of the frying pan playing alongside the bubbling of the broth! He couldn’t help his smile as he bopped around the kitchen, following the gumbo’s rhythm. For just a moment, he was certain that this was the same kind of joy Tiana must feel when she cooked. No wonder she loved it so much.

He was just about to give it that last hit of Tobasco when he heard the creak of the door over the kitchen’s melody. He turned around, eyes widening as he saw his wife poke her head into the doorway. A shocked laugh burst out of her before she covered her mouth, shaking her head.

“Tiana! I did not expect you back so soon.” Naveen gave her his best grin as he leaned against the cutting board. “I have been busy preparing a fantastica surprise for you.”

“And here I thought you’d just gotten into a fight with the flour,” she said, walking up to him and running her finger down his nose before holding up the flour-covered digit with a raised eyebrow. Naveen’s grin turned sheepish.

“Well…it took a little while before it was quite so…fantastica.”

Tiana laughed, then peeked around him. “You’re making gumbo? By yourself?”

“Well, your mother gave me the best recipe there is, from what I hear.”

Tiana’s face shifted from curiosity to something much softer, and her hand immediately went to her heart. “She gave you my daddy’s recipe?”

“Well, a copy. But…” He swallowed. For the first time since he’d gotten his roux right, he wondered if he might be in over his head. It was one thing to not be able to make gumbo; it was another thing altogether to make a bad gumbo. He sucked in his lips, then quickly grabbed a spoon and scooped some of the soup out. His eyebrows raised entreatingly as he held it to her lips. “Would…could you taste it?”

Tiana’s eyes flicked up to his, and she started to open her mouth before he drew the spoon back.

“Wait, wait!” He grabbed the Tobasco, giving the bottle a few staccato shakes before stirring the pot once more. He scooped up the soup again, then held it up to Tiana’s lips. This time she smiled before closing her eyes and taking a bite. As she chewed, her cheek drew up, her brow furrowed, and it wasn’t until she swallowed that her eyes fluttered open—none of which helped the way Naveen’s heart was pounding in his chest. She looked up at him, pressing her thumb to her lips.

“Well…Naveen…”

She hated it. She had to. But he’d take her criticism well; hard work meant learning from mistakes. He braced himself. “Yes?”

“Well, I think…” A wide grin lit up her face, brown eyes sparkling. “I think this is the best gumbo I’ve tasted in years.” She wrapped her hand around his as she added, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Daddy was right here in the kitchen with you.”

Naveen practically melted in place, and he pulled her into a tight—and floury—hug, kissing along her hairline before he pulled back with a bright smile. “I am certain he was; it was the only way I could have pulled it off,” he said with a laugh, looking down at her with warm eyes before dipping down for a quick kiss. “Happy anniversary, my Evangeline.”

Tiana pulled back with a smile, setting a hand on his chest before reaching up to wipe a bit of flour from his cheek. “And it’s a very happy anniversary. And I prefer you as a flour prince over a frog prince.”

“It is a good look, no?”

Tiana laughed, then drew away to move back to the gumbo pot. “You know, Daddy always said that good food brings people together. And I think a gift like this ought to be shared.”

Naveen’s eyebrows rose. “As in…with other people?”

“Well, sure. It’s like with music, it’s no fun just keeping it to yourself.” She leaned against him, looking up with a smile. “And I think everyone should know that Prince Naveen of Maldonia can make a fine gumbo.”

Naveen smiled, puffing up slightly before he looked down at her. “But only because I have the best maestro teaching me everyday,” he said, then dipped down for one last kiss.

Today, he decided, really had ended up being a sockdolager of an anniversary.

#princess and the frog #patf #patf charity zine #patf zine #tiana #naveen #fic #it deleted all of my italics but I'm too lazy to put them all back in

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elisaphoenix13 · 5 years

Text

A Sick Tell

The family had a tell when they were sick. Tony zoned out in the lab when he was supposedly 'working', Stephen napped in the middle of the day, Peter and Harley tried to hide it even though Stephen would immediately find out, and Diana immediately called for one of her parents. Then there were the Avengers. Most of them were smart enough to admit they were sick and stay in bed, but there were those that weren't so smart. Scott and Quill being among them. Scott's tell was someone finding him sitting cross-legged on the island counter and taking some electrical thing apart. It was usually something small and fixable like the tv remote. Quill on the other hand...well no one even knew he could actually get sick. Drunk, sure...but not sick. They got a scare when they first found out too.

Namely, Quill arrived on the family floor looking a little dazed (which was understandable because it was still pretty early), and stumbled over to the fridge. Stephen was immediately on alert because the moment the pirate passed behind him, he could feel the heat. Quill was like a walking furnace. Stephen watched him grab a can of whipped cream and make his way over to the living room where he promptly fell back onto and fell asleep.

"Victor...give me Quill's temperature please." Stephen asks his AI calmly.

A few beats pass before he responds. "One hundred and five Doctor."

"What?! Call Bruce and--"

"He's stable. According to my data, his fever is equal to a regular human fever of one hundred and two." Victor interrupts and Stephen sighs.

"His Celestial genes...right. Let me know if anything changes."

Then Stephen started on some soup before taking back the can of cream through a small portal and returning it to the fridge. The only reaction he got was a groan of relief when he took a cold washcloth over to Quill and placed it on his forehead. With a small spell, the cloth would stay cold and wet and would hopefully help as long as Quill didn't move and dislodge it. Not that he was going to do much moving now. Based off the quiet rumbling coming from Quill's spot on the couch, he was out cold despite being sick, but that was good. He was getting actual sleep. Stephen would just have to keep the floor quiet. He wasn't going to risk waking the man up by trying to portal him back down to bed, especially since Scott was out of town. That was probably the only reason Quill came up in the first place.

"I thought one of the kids were hiding a dog." Tony says as he walks into the kitchen and straight to the coffee pot. "But no...it's just our resident god. What's Porcupine doing up here anyway?"

Stephen throws some noodles into the broth and looks over at his husband to accept his coffee flavored morning kiss. "He's sick and Scott isn't home."

"So he just came up and asked you to take care of him?"

"No. I don't even think he was aware he came up here in the first place. He grabbed our whipped cream and then fell back asleep on the couch." Stephen says and Tony raises an eyebrow over his mug.

"Didn't even eat any of it did he?"

"He probably forgot about it as soon as he grabbed it."

"At least he's got pajamas on."

Stephen snickers and leaves the soup to sit for a bit as he walks back into the living room after grabbing a spare blanket, and throws it over the snoring celestial. If one could call the rumbling coming from Quill snoring. It was more like purring. It was weird but Stephen wasn't complaining. It was much more tolerant than actual snoring. Scott had brought it up one day and said it was actually really nice and calming, and that it didn't keep him from sleeping. Which if Tony snored like that, Stephen might like it too...but he didn't. The sorcerer was stuck with the engineer periodically snoring right in his ear at three in the morning. The urge to bunk with one of the kids always followed, but before he could act on that urge, Tony would stop snoring and Stephen could go back to sleep.

"Damn." Tony sits on one of the adjacent couches with his coffee and turns on the tv. "He's like a furnace."

"What's considered an emergency temperature to us is just a high temperature for him." Stephen sits next to Tony and uses a portal to grab his cup of tea he left on the counter.

"How high?"

"He's currently sitting at a hundred and five."

A giggle sounds from behind them. "Uncle Quill sounds like a big kitty."

Diana rounds the couch with a blanket in one of her hands and crawls onto the couch between her parents, and Tony helps her with her blanket when she snuggles into his side. Once comfortably covered, Stephen changes the channel to something more child friendly, and both men secretly die a little inside when it's an episode of Dia's favorite show that they had seen and heard at least five times now. A repeat episode was a million times better than glitter though. Stephen banned glitter after Diana brought some home and easily convinced Harley to use it in his potato gun inside. Everyone still walked away with some part of their body dusted with sparkles.

"Uncle Quill isn't feeling good so we're all going to have a quiet day today." Stephen says as he weaves his hand through Diana's hair.

Tony snorts. "We're going to try at least. The boys don't really know what quiet is."

"Why is there soup on the stove?!" Harley yells from the kitchen and Stephen sighs before getting up.

"You better not touch that soup Harley." The sorcerer walks into the kitchen and finds the teen replacing the lid and taking a bite out of the apple in his other hand. "What did you do to it?"

"Nothing. Didn't get a chance to." When Stephen narrows his eyes, Harley grins. "I'm kidding Mom. But seriously, what's with the soup?"

"Quill is sick."

"Spacecase can get sick?"

"Apparently."

Stephen bats away Harley's hands and the teen turns his attention to the cupboards to grab cereal and grabs a few bowls from a second cupboard. One going to Stephen so he can fill it with some soup, the other three being webbed from Harley's hands. He didn't even blink. He just opened a drawer to dig out some spoons as Peter crawled across the ceiling to put the bowls on the table. Stephen and Tony had tried to get Peter to stop crawling on the ceiling, but the farthest they got to succeeding was him only doing it weekend mornings. They figured they could deal with that if it meant no more heart attacks for Tony. Well, Tony, the kids, and some of the Avengers. Peter successfully scared the crap out of Rhodes and Tony thought it was hilarious.

"Quiet day today." Harley and Peter look at Stephen and he gives them a look when they open their mouths. "Yes, seriously. Either find something quiet to do or see if you can go to a friend's house."

Nothing more is said and the boys sit at the table with a couple of boxes of cereal, and as soon as the first bits clatter into a bowl, Diana hops off the couch and joins her brothers at the table. Stephen of course had to confiscate the coffee that Harley tried to sneak past him and pour into his cereal, and the teen grumbles.

"It was worth a shot."

"It's bad enough that your father tries it. Don't pick up his bad habits." Stephen replies easily and takes both the mug of coffee and the soup into the living room.

Just in time too. Quill had woken up from his nap when Stephen stepped in and he was looking around in dazed confusion. The pirate definitely didn't remember coming up, but he was more lucid than he had been. Quill even sat up, causing the cloth on his forehead to fall down into his lap.

"How did I get up here?" Quill asks with a bit of a slur.

"You walked with your own two legs!" Tony says dramatically. "And with clothes on!"

Stephen rolls his eyes and walks over to Quill to hand him the bowl of soup. "Eat. You're welcome to stay on the couch if you want."

"...where's Scotty?" The celestial asks as he accepts the soup.

"Out of town. How long have you been sick?" Stephen questions.

"Dunno. Since maybe a day before he left?"

Stephen raises an eyebrow. "The last time you ate?"

Quill replied with a lazy shrug and eats his soup with a bit of a grimace. Stephen wasn't offended though because it wasn't a grimace of disgust, it was a grimace of discomfort. Quill's stomach was very likely churning but he wasn't about to argue with an actual doctor. So the bowl of soup was slowly, but surely, polished off. A few minutes pass as the man makes sure his breakfast isn't going to come back up, and then lays back down on the couch before sending a dirty look to the children's show on the tv.

"Hey, you came up here, you have to suffer through kid shows." Tony points out.

"At least make it a Disney movie." Quill grumbles out as he makes himself comfortable again.

Stephen grabs the washcloth and hands it to Quill and he holds it to his forehead with another relieved groan. Diana scrambles in the living room after she finishes her cereal and changes the kid show to a Disney movie (for Uncle Quill), but it ended up being pointless since Quill fell asleep in the first five minutes of Sleeping Beauty. Harley made a joke about the pirate having the right idea and that comment had Diana chucking a crayon at his head. She had taken over the coffee table with coloring supplies (the entire living room if you asked everyone else), watching movies, and enjoying listening to Quill purr (snore) like a big cat. Cassie did end up joining them not much later, actually looking for Quill, and when she found him conked out on the couch and being taken care of, she sat with Diana and colored with her. That was how most of them spent their day. Coloring, watching Disney movies, or in Tony and the boys cases, down in the lab. After the second movie started, the three if them fled to the lab and left Stephen to the girls and the sick god.

Fine by him. It was much quieter that way.

"Cassie, were you aware that Quill was sick?" Stephen asks as he cleans up the kitchen.

"Hmm? Yeah. I've been taking care of him the last couple of days. He's been doing...this." She motions toward the slumbering god.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Victor said he was fine and there wasn't much for me to do since he was always sleeping."

"Well...I'll help you keep an eye on him until he gets better or Scott gets home. Whatever comes first." The sorcerer rejoins the two girls and sits on one of the empty couches grabbing a crayon and inspecting it closely. "Is this a glitter-"

Diana grabs it. "It's in the crayon Mommy!"

Stephen sighs and looks down just as Tibbs walks past them and over to Quill. He jumps up on the celestial, kneads his still rumbling chest, and then turns around once before laying down. Tibbs' purring adds to Quill's snoring and the girls giggle.

"Uncle Quill really is a big cat!"

Stephen smiles. "Our actual cat isn't affected by much."

"Peter's right. Tibbs is the chillest cat in the world." Cassie reaches up to pet Tibbs, and the feline responds with louder purring.

"Victor, take a picture and send it to Scott please."

"Yes Doctor."

Quill blinks his eyes open once again and finds himself staring at a furry lump on his chest. "Wha--What's on my chest?" He mumbles and Cassie grins.

"Just a fuzzy multitentacled otherworldly being. No big deal."

"...kay."

Quill falls back asleep and Stephen snorts. Healthy celestial god Quill would have sprung to his feet in an instant. Sick Quill? He didn't give a single shit.

#ironstrange #supremefamily #mama bear stephen strange #tony stark #stephen strange #peter parker #harley keener #cassie lang #diana stark strange (oc)#scott lang #peter quill #antlord #spidersting

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marvelous-avengers · 5 years

Text

coffee cake

summary: Late night baking.

pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

warnings: fluff and love, slight angst if you squint

a/n: after a very stressful weak, this was inspired by events that happened at home when my dad pulled out my grandma’s cooking stuff and i decided it would be nice if i had a super soldier to comfort me. enjoy it angels. (i should be sleeping or doing other things but i wrote this because i needed it.)

---

It’s late when he finds you in the kitchen.

A day of errands and naps, plus a late dinner of reheated soup has you tired and wired all at the same time. Achy body but itching hands.

Tools and ingredients scatter the kitchen island. Old fashioned tools and vintage recipes with faded edges, crisp and timed handwriting that spawns memories from younger years of wooden tables and benches, a white creaky oven door, smiles and wrinkled lips pressed to temples.

It stirs something in Steve’s chest as he leans against the doorway.

You’re oblivious to his soft gaze, you’re even softer, as he watches you measure out ingredients. Your hands are delicate yet deliberate–taking care while getting the job done. He’s almost mesmerized, watching you work through the kitchen in your t-shirt and sleep shorts.

It’s been a hard week for you. Between some family drama, trouble at work and moving in together, the stress leading up to everything made you physically ill and that was hard for him to see. Too many cooks in the kitchen, too many things to get rid of and so little time to move, to actually get anything done.

So today had been spent in bed, then a couple errands, some soup and Nailed It! on Netflix filled the afternoon.

“Hi babe.”

Ah, he’s been caught.

He smiles gently, blue with specks of green and gold going even softer as he reaches you at the counter, lips pressing to your forehead. You’re mixing the paste-like mixture in the bowl and Steve takes in the rest of the pieces of the recipe and grabs a round container from the marble island.

“Sour cream? In cake?”

The edges of your lips turn up and there’s his happy girl. “Just wait.” His other hand goes to your back, fingers skimming underneath the edge of your shirt as he rubs the skin there. “Will you butter the pan, please?”

With a final squeeze to your skin, he does as he’s asked. You take the final cups of flour, the baking soda and sour cream and add them to your bowl, mixing until homogenous. You grab a jar of brown something crumbly and measure some out, mixing it with another bit of something and a dash of another something.

“My grandma used to make this cake only for special occasions,” you say as you gingerly start to layer the batter and other mixture into the prepared pan. “She made it for birthdays, primarily. She’d come over and this was our birthday cake. It’s special.”

The way you talk about her, so open and freely, so reverently, sparks a memory in the deep caverns of his mind. Gentle hands, worn from work and care, brushing back soft tufts of blond, mixing soup on the stove made from anything they could salvage, one more spoonful for himself than her. A delicate, beautiful smile on her face, always. Would you like some more, Steven? Have you had enough? A time when there was never always enough to go around, but children came first. They always came first, even if there was nothing.

It sends an ache through his heart, to think of this, of memories and time long passed. How families who had nothing still gave and gave, still cared for their children and found ways to do so. He knows it’s ingrained in your soul, from mother and father to grandmother, who, like his own parents, came from a country seeking a better life, who came from nothing, but somehow gave their children everything that they could.

It’s better now–the world is, at least–in some ways, with technology and agriculture. He thinks of the good things, of warm summer days and your neighbor’s children giggling and laughing, of you, pressed carefully in his arms, content and happy as you sleep. It warms his heart, soothes the dull icy chill forever present in a man out of time.

He only wishes that the soft mother of his memories was able to see him today. Home. Loved. Happy.

A few final taps of the pan against the counter and it slides easily into the warm oven. You set a timer on the microwave. He watches as you immediately start to clean up, gathering dirty dishes and utensils and putting sugar and flour and vanilla away. You take great care in washing the tools of your masterpiece, placing them carefully in the dishrack once they’re deemed clean.

“She didn’t have much growing up, and neither did my dad, so they were always sure to try and give their children better lives than we had. They always gave us extra when we asked, offered more to us first even if they hadn’t finished.” Another metal and rounded measuring cup, one that looks familiar to him, is placed to dry. “They always took care of us first. And this cake was always our treat. It tied my whole family together.”

Family. The root of your love, your being and your soul. Your kindness, your selflessness, your loving and bold personality that he loves so much. Obviously it runs in the family.

Part of him wants to offer to help, but the other part of him, the practiced and loving part, knows that this is yours. Your way to deal with the relieved stress, the anxious part of you that continues to worry after things are complete. Your family traditions, special memories, your heart and soul buried and bursting in your being.

So he lets you be. But once you dry your hands on the towel and the counter is wiped clean, he slides his arms around your waist and pulls you close, pink lips pressing to the crown of your head. You sigh, winding your own around him and nestle safely into his embrace. Calloused hands rub up and down your back, and you squeeze him.

You pull away enough to gaze up at him, eyes cloudy and dazed, filled with emotion. He cups your face with one hand, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes are closed when he pulls away again, and he releases a chuckle before he finally kisses your lips.

It’s so soft, so patient in the quiet of the kitchen, his thumb caressing your cheek as your lips move together. He tests the waters, the tip of his tongue slipping between yours, and your hands tighten on the back of his shirt. The hand on your waist tightens and as one of yours grasps onto longer strands of golden and sandy hair, you feel the counter against your back and Steve’s built body pressing against yours. You relish in the feeling, of the love and safety surrounding you–

Steve’s thumb grazes the underside of your breast and your back arches in response. He smiles and you only pull on his shirt, the urgency to have him closerclosercloser.

The kisses eventually slow and the timer shows an obscene amount of time spent wrapped up in each other. But neither of you mind. Besides, Steve likes to be selfish with you. Especially, like this.

Because it’s needed. In times of stress and destress, the sanctuary of tight arms and warm love is a welcome home. Home. Love.

When he pulls away, the blue of his eyes is blown out by the pupil and he’s flushed, beautifully so, spread across his cheeks to his ears. You smile and tug gently on his ear lobe, but Steve just kisses your wrist, lips swollen and plump and oh so delicious.

He kisses you right there, in the kitchen, until the timer runs out.

forever loves:

@sweetboybucky @evanstarff @barnesrogersvstheworld @tropicalcap @buckyofthemyscira @bucky-at-bedtime @kentuckybarnes @shurisneakers @jaamesbbarnes @sgtjbuccky @buckysbeardliness anyone else i forgot but i love you all

#jess writes #coffee cake fic #steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve rogers fi #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years

Text

Survey #271

“some of those who work forces are the same that burn crosses.”

Do you cook on the stove at all, or just microwave? I just use the microwave. I'm scared of the stove lmao. Do you ever debate religion with your friends? Bruuuh no. I am so disinterested in debating about something that to me ultimately doesn't matter yet humanity has made so serious. Whatever happens after we die, happens, there's that. Just be a decent human being and go out knowing you did your best to make the world better than when you entered it. Do you keep your shampoo in the shower or someplace else? In the shower. Something your mother said or did that shocked you: Like... recently? Or in my entire life? I dunno about recently, but I guess the most shocking to me was when she vehemently called my sister something I won't repeat. Did your mom go to college? She was before the cancer. Ready to graduate, too, but that didn't go as planned thanks to, y'know, cancer. Which food do you think you have the most cans of in your cupboard? Good question, no clue. I don't really pay attention to the canned foods. Maybe fruits? Do you save fortunes from fortune cookies? No. Are you offended when Christmas is spelled Xmas? Nah. Where do you put your keys when you come home? In my purse. Describe your favorite mug or glass to drink from? I don't have one. That I use, anyway. Sara gave me a Markiplier quote one that's a Holy Item on my shelf and instead of holding a beverage holds All My Love. Your bad habit that you love the most: UGH I hate how much I love soda. Invent a pop tart flavor: STORY TIME!!!! As a kid, there was this contest to design a type and you won like... a fucking huge supply of the newest flavor, which was at the time that wild berry whatever thing. My sister and I made one that I think I recall being pink with heart sprinkles and strawberry flavored, and we won. Guess who fucking hates the wild berry flavor now lmao. Okay but anyway if I was to invent one now... is there a BLUE raspberry flavor? Cuz a bitch loves blue raspberry flavored everything. Do you name your pets after tv/movie/book characters: Sometimes. I don't currently have a pet that is, though. Are you proud of yourself for what you've accomplished? The few things I actually have, sure? I'm more ashamed of what I haven't. Do you own any sexy lingerie? Nooooo no one would want to see me in that, least of all myself lmao. Have you ever caught a bouquet of flowers at a wedding before? No. Has a horse ever neighed at you before? Uhhh I don't think so? Do you prefer ice cream or sorbet? Ice cream. Have you gotten your pets spayed? My cat is. That's like... the only pet we ever have fixed, sadly. My parents/Mom (depending on time period) could just never afford it. The only real reason we managed to get Roman neutered was because our sister directed us to a cheap on-the-go business where it was like... only $45, and Roman was marking the house badly so it was pretty urgent. Would you ever take in a stray animal? HA, that is the STORY of my family with cats. At this current time, most likely not. We don't need another pet right now, nevermind one of a mysterious background with my mom being sick. When is payday? N/A Have you ever walked on a runway before? No. How long is your workday? N/A Is there a walkway or a pathway to your front door? No. What is your favorite color? What is your least favorite color? Pink is superior to all colors. I'm really not a puke-green fan, but I mean... is anyone? What color dominates your wardrobe? Everything is B L A C K. What color are your eyes? Grayish blue. Are you colorblind, or do you know anyone who is? I'm not, but Jason's brother is colorblind to I think red and blue? Do you prefer color photos or black-and white? It greatly depends on the composition and subject matter of the photograph. I find great beauty in both. If I had to pick though, color usually appeals to me more. Are you one of those people who can taste, feel, or smell colors? No. Have you ever seen a double rainbow before? Yes. Do you enjoy coloring? It tends to be my least-favorite part of the art process because that's where I always fuck shit up. Do you know anyone who is racist? Oh my, PLENTY. Welcome to the South. Are your nails painted any color(s) right now? They never are. Can you lift more than 100lbs? I probably CAN, but it would be very hard. What's your opinion on incest? It's fucking repulsive. Morally and negative from a scientific standpoint, anyway. Do you have a favorite color for cats? Orange. What video games did you play when you were younger? I was a massive gamer as a kid, teenager too, so I could put a hell of a lot here. But, I'll just imagine you're referring to when I was quite young. The Spyro games (save for Skylanders) were my LIFE, I loved Nintendogs, the Crash Bandicoot trilogy, lots of games that were based on movies (like Madagascar and Finding Nemo are two I really enjoyed), uhhh... OH! And absolutely weird, but I loved hunting games. Like, I had a whooole lot, despite hating real life hunting even as a child. I think it was because I got to see wild animals, plus it could be calming to wander and scary, too, when things like wolves found you. Oh, and then there were fishing games, too. LOOK I just love(d) games. Would you ever get a tramp stamp? I hate that nickname. Having a tattoo literally anywhere does not equate you to a stereotype. Yes, because I want to be heavily tattooed anyway. Did you cry when Michael Jackson died? No. Not that I didn't care at all, I just wasn't a giant fan. What's the ugliest species of animal? Lmao how mean. The blobfish immediately comes to mind, though. Looks like a ball of mucus shaped into an old man's face. Are you embarrassed about any songs on your iPod? I used to be, now it's just like whatever. I like what I like. What do you use to listen to music on the computer? YouTube. Do people know a lot about you? Places on the Internet sure do lmao. I try to be much more private now online to a degree, depending on where. Irl, no. I'm too easily embarrassed/afraid of being judged for what makes me, me. Who was the last person you slept beside? Sara. Do you like Metallica? They're one of my all-time favorites and I trust NOBODY who claims to hate them. What's your favorite kind of soup? I'm not a fan of soup. What’s your best friend's favorite band? Her all-time favorite is Pink Floyd. Who was the last person you took a picture with? Ummm idr. Do you play Guitar Hero? Not really anymore, but I fuckin slayed that shit back in the day. Whose house did you last visit? My older sister's. Who was the last person to come to your house? My younger sister. What time do you usually eat dinner? Anywhere between 5:30 to like... 7:00 or so. Have you ever searched your own house on Google Earth? Not this current one, no. Does it bother you when people have a loose grip on hugs? No? Some people don't like hugs. Are you looking forward to next year? I don't know. Is covid gonna be history by then? It depends on a lot of things. What have you done so far this summer? *blink blink blink* What's your favorite punk band? Honestly, I don't even really separate bands by genres now because I don't know. There's so so many, plenty overlap, etc. etc, and people - especially those who enjoy rock/metal stuff, I've found - get all snobbish and "WELL ACTUALLY" when you "misgenre" or whatever. Which is better: cold or hot weather? COLD. FUCK hot weather. Anything above ~75*F is disgusting. Is photography something you enjoy? I'm an aspiring photographer so like- What’s the best flavor snow cone? I haven't had a legit snow cone in years... but we have a place called Pelican's Snowballs, which is really just like... snow cones in a cup? They are A M A Z I N G and strawberry is to die for. When driving, are you a speed demon or do you drive like your grandmother? I don't drive because I'm terrified to. Have you ever met someone who just had you at hello? No. Bet you were expecting "Jason," but no, I was weirded out that a stranger just comes up to me in the hall on the way to class and starts talking to me. Have you ever written poetry? Yeah. Do you have any addictions? Technology, ugh. And soda, rip. When was the last time you just laid and looked at the stars? Laid, many years ago one summer when Jason and I were just lying on the trampoline while my dad was grilling. What song reminds you of an ex? A lot. What color eyeliner do you prefer? Black. What was the last thing that you made with your own two hands? Like, made from scratch? Hell if I know. What’s the deepest water you will wade into? Like, shoulder-deep in the ocean. How many blades does your razor have? Three, I think? Highest grade of education you’ve completed? Just one semester of college. Lowest grade you’ve received on a test? Yikes, Fs in college math. He taught in such an abstract way that I failed like... every test, or nearly did. I was too afraid to ask questions continuously. Do you enjoy sitting in the sun or the shade more? There is NO situation where I would rather be in the sun. Do you enjoy going to arcades? Hell yeah. What parades do you like to go to? None. When’s the last time you went on a tirade? I ranted to Mom about the fucking ridiculous anti-maskers that are a big reason this motherfucking pandemic is worsening in America. With my mom being immunocompromised, it is something I take VERY goddamn seriously. It's not a difference in opinion - it's a difference in morality. Do you like to play charades? I loved to as a kid. Now it'd feel weird. Would you ever lead a crusade? I wouldn't want to lead anything. Have your parents ever forbade you from doing something? Aha, so as a kid, I had a game demo disc that showed the preview to Parasite Eve, and my sisters and I would secretly watch it despite it scaring us to where Mom did forbid us to click on it. And all these years later, I've played it and love it... ha ha. Otherwise, my parents have always been pretty open to letting us do stuff, save for things the usual parent doesn't like, like swearing. When’s the last time someone said something degrading to you? A few days back when I got into an argument on Facebook about some asshole teasing their newly-hatched cobra to where it kept striking at the tongs, hood flared and all. Apparently I had no idea what I was talking about, pointing out the snake was clearly stressed out. What’s the last homemade dish you’ve made? I legit haven't cooked a thing since Sara was here and I made her eggs for breakfast. Which was like, a year ago. Do you like lemonade? What flavor(s)? Broooo YES. Pink lemonade is better, but I enjoy just the classic kind, too. Has anyone ever serenaded you before? Fuck this question. Would you like to visit the Everglades? Lemme see them motherfuckin GATORS. Have you ever attended a masquerade ball before? No. Would be dope, though. Have you lost anyone to AIDS? No, thank god. Have you ever been paid for sex? Hell no. Have you ever had a maid in your home before? HUNNY we are too poor for that shit. Do you know how to do different types of braids in hair? No. When’s the last time you wore a Band-aid? Where and why? I have no clue. When was the last time you were afraid? Of what? A family friend was over here a couple days ago and she had this weirdest muscle cramp in her leg that brought her to the floor gasping for like over a minute. I was super scared, and Mom was too, as we had no idea what to do. I almost had to call 911. Crazy woman hasn't gone to the doctor about it, to my knowledge. Would you ever consider growing your hair out to your waist, or longer? NOOOO NO NO. I am probably having short hair for the rest of my life. Is there anywhere in your house that you're scared to be alone in? No. What is your favorite shoe brand? I don't have one. What weird things did you do as a small child? I was just a weird kid in general. I did a lotta stuff that would make people raise a brow. Who puts the most pressure on you in your life? My goddamn self. Do you laugh off embarrassing moments? Hell no, I turn red as a cherry and probably cry once I'm in private. Do you have a favourite actor/actress? If so, who? No. Do you like little kids, or do they annoy you? I feel uncomfortable around them. They're too brutally honest, I feel like every move I make is wrong, and I just generally feel incapable of handling them properly. Do you want a small or a large family when you get older? Well, I don't want any kids, so... Are you a good dancer? If not, do you enjoy dancing anyways? No and no. I'd be embarrassed. Have you ever lied to avoid getting into trouble? Yeah. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital for a long period of time? I'd say two weeks is pretty long, and I was supposed to stay an entire month. I only got out of that by going to court. Do you take a lot of pictures of yourself, or are you camera shy? I HATE being in front of the camera. What are your choice of toppings on a hamburger? And do you prefer gas or charcoal grilling? I just like ketchup, mustard, and pickles, really. A bit of diced onion is fine, too. I prefer gas; I hate the charcoal-y taste. You are chosen to have lunch with the president. the condition is you only get to ask one question. What do you ask? Fuck that, I'd decline going to begin with. What is your concession stand must-have at the movies? Popcorn, of course. Which do you dislike most: pop-up ads or spam email? Pop-up ads. How long was it from ‘the first date�� until the proposal of marriage? How long until the wedding? N/A What topic can put you to sleep quicker than any other? Probably like, wrestling. Golf. Sports in general. How many times did it take you to pass your drivers test? I haven't tried it yet. If you had to have the same topping on your vanilla ice cream for the rest of your life, what topping would you choose? I always just use chocolate syrup. Would you rather be trapped in an elevator, or stuck in traffic? CHRIST, TRAFFIC. Elevators kinda scare me and I'm very scared of being stuck in one. What are you sitting on right now? My bed. Are you listening to anything? Halocene's cover of "Killing In The Name." Have you parents ever hated one of your boyfriends/girlfriends? No. Who was the last person to give you money? I have no idea. Have you ever dreamed of someone you barely know? Actually yeah. Weird as hell. When was the most recent time, if ever, that you felt “impostor syndrome,” or that you felt unqualified to be somewhere? Hm. I suppose when I went to the doctor by myself for my foot. I'd never done an appointment without Mom at all, and I was veeery clueless to a lot of steps, questions, etc. What are some ways that pop culture has helped you learn historic or scientific facts? Some TV shows, I guess. Or games, even. Have you ever had a job in which you felt that you had nothing to do? What was the protocol in that situation (e.g., surfing the web, taking on the job of co-workers, or pretending to work)? If you have not, do you think it would be lucky or unlucky to have such a job? No. I was expected to always be doing something. I'd consider that to be pretty unlucky, as it sounds boring and pointless. Have you ever intimidated or made another person feel legitimately threatened? If not, do you think that you could ever be seen as scary? I don't know. Mom has admitted me yelling has scared her before, though. I can yell pretty fucking loudly. But she herself never felt threatened. And do I think I could be seen as scary? Yes. Especially given my chronic fucking nightmares that almost always involve confrontation. In what ways do you or would you need to be validated by a partner? (For example, liking your posts/talking about you on social media, or perhaps by doting on you with gifts.) I am VERY much a "words of affirmation" person. I NEED reassurance that I'm adequate and sincerely loved. When you are having a hard time emotionally, what are some of the telltale ways that you act out or that your personality reflects your struggles? I become very snappy and more reclusive than usual. I cry really easily. Do you tend to succeed by weaning yourself off of something or by quitting cold turkey? It depends on what it is, but I've generally needed to wean myself off of things when necessary. Is there a specific type of pet breed/size/etc. that you don’t want? Why not? I am very turned off by animal breeds/types that are subject to serious health issues, such as pugs, dachsunds, Persians, spider ball pythons... Just don't fucking breed them. Ironically, some of these are the cutest, but I care far more about the health of the animal. Have you ever lived in a notoriously dangerous area? If not, would it bother you to do so? Yes and yes. Has a friend’s significant other ever interfered with or damaged your friendship? What about a significant other of yours damaging a friendship? I don't believe so, no. What, if anything, is something that you put pressure on yourself about? What do you imagine would happen if you did not live up to this expectation? Getting a job, for Heaven's sake, and actually managing to keep it. I've proven inept in this area so far, so, I've already failed that. :^) If you have been in a serious relationship, have you and your partner ever discussed lifetime plans that clashed? Did you reconcile them or did you break up? If you have not been in a relationship, what are some issues that would be deal-breakers? Jason and I kinda casually talked about kids early in our relationship, at which time I didn't see myself wanting them at all and he did at some point. It didn't really bother either of us, though; it was something we'd figure out if we actually got anywhere. Then he became the only person I could ever imagine myself having kids with. Life's funny.

#survey #quiz #questions

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thedistantstorm · 5 years

Text

Come Together 02

Fandom: Destiny

Pairing: Devrim Kay/Marc

Warnings: ridiculous romancing, eventual smut

“A young city planner set his eyes on an older militiaman. He was unkempt and terribly forward. The militiaman had class. He wasn’t interested.”

“Clearly,” Marc tells their friends. “That’s why they decided to get married.”

(A story told in bits and pieces.)

Chapters: 01

He enters the office with an impressive swagger come Monday morning. Manages not to piss off Devrim, passing him on his way in without so much as a direct look. Marc could absolutely feel that coldwater gaze on his back, though. Good, he thought.

Devrim meets him for lunch, arriving at noon like clockwork. Marc makes another concession, already having his usual meal sitting there, waiting for him when he sets down his pack.

“What, no aioli? You’ve only been trying to get me to put it on everything for nearly a week now.”

“Hello to you, too,” Marc chirps, pulling the extra from his take-away container and holding it out between his index and middle fingers. “Knew I’d convert you eventually. Artisanal food is my specialty.”

“I didn’t know the City employed food-tasters,” Devrim sasses him. “Is that what they do in the Planning Office now?”

“Oh, of course,” He agrees, treating Devrim to an eye-roll that’s been stolen from his own playbook. “Who needs infrastructure?”

“You’re a monster. Who needs infrastructure, indeed.” He grumbles.

His reply begins with a laugh. “I’m kidding. I love infrastructure,” Marc leans in, his eyes on Devrim’s lips before flicking up to meet his intent gaze. He hopes it’s as heavy as it feels, flirtatious but not overwhelming.

“Is that so?”

Marc’s eyes light up. “It is.”

“What do you do in the City Planner’s office?”

He shrugs. “I fool around until someone gives me something to work with.”

“Like what?”

“Like the redesign of the Market District, or the Plaza, or the Consensus Hall.” Devrim leans in as Marc leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, giving Devrim a peek of the chest hair that peeks from his unbuttoned collar. His hazel eyes flash as he grins. “I’m an architect.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth, enunciating that final ‘t.’ “Lead architect, actually.”

Devrim shakes his head. “At your age?”

“Trust me,” His smile errs toward sheepish then, “My subordinates hate me.”

That earns him a laugh. No sarcasm, no irritated expressions. It’s glorious.

Marc cannot wait to get this man under him.

Devrim cancels their second ‘official’ date, that Thursday.

He’s managed to come down with a nasty cold, the bark of his cough making Marc wince as he sees him that morning. He receives a message on his tablet - having only just exchanging contact info on Tuesday.

>CO sent me home sick. Afraid we’ll have to reschedule.

Marc takes one look at the message and scoffs. Instead of going home to change into something a bit more date-worthy after work - well, now going home to mope over cancelled plans, technically - he heads to the market for supplies and directly to the address Devrim had scribbled on that napkin he definitely isn’t keeping in a box atop his dresser since he's already memorized it.

Of course the other man lives on the upper, but as luck would have it, Devrim's neighbor lets him in without him having to use the outside buzzer. For the best, since he wasn't really sure what he was working with and grabbed a little bit of everything.

He only sets one of the three heavy bags down outside the door, preferring to do so rather than bash his produce against the wall beside it. There's some rustling from inside the flat - thin walls, he catalogs for later - and then the door opens a crack.

Red eyes, feverish cheeks, pink nose… no doubt about it. Devrim is sick as a dog.

"Did I - I swore I sent you a message saying I had to cancel," Devrim says, his voice hoarse but no less rugged or handsome.

Marc turns on his most charming of smiles. "You did. Thought I'd come-"

"I'm not dressed."

The door closes immediately in his face.

Undeterred, Marc knocks again. More insistently than before.

Devrim throws the door open a little more, just in time for Marc to catch his attire.

"WHAT," He snips, irritated. Genuinely so.

"You're in pajamas. And a robe." Marc's eyes don't leave Devrim's face for once, and his smile fades into something less put-on and more genuine. Affection bleeds into his voice as he teases, "You're plenty decent. Let a man cook for you."

Whatever comes out of his mouth is more grumble than actual words, but he's allowed entry. Even if he knows it's mostly due to Devrim wanting to lay back down. Devrim waves him in the general direction of the kitchen - sparse, but expansive - and he sets the bags down before he returns to what's clearly a living room. Surely if it has been any other time and the other man not been sick, he'd have been given a tour.

But instead, Devrim is reclined on a chair, though it's clear he'd been laying on the sofa based on the blanket and box of tissues there.

He opts for transparency. "Figured you wouldn't be up anything crazy, so I'm making chicken soup. I'll force you into trying something new when you can actually taste it."

Devrim casts him a tired glance, as if silently willing him to get on with it.

"And lay on the couch, would you? I'm not about to make a pass at you while you're sick. I'm not that trashy."

"Is that so?" He coughs into his elbow, and cuts his momentum in half. He doesn't manage to spin it into an eloquent insult.

"I'll be in the kitchen," Marc says, pressing cool fingers against Devrim's forehead as he passes. He's burning up. Maybe he should have grabbed some cold medicine. "It'll take a bit, so let me know if you need anything."

He wakes in the middle of the night with a gasp. He's still on the couch, which explains why he's so stiff. Only the light over the kitchen stove is on, casting a sliver of light into the living room, enough to see the reflection of a glass of water he definitely did not set out for himself on the coffee table. He knows this because he would have used a coaster.

Beside it is a scrap of paper.

Soup in fridge. Feel better.

-M

He sags back against the cushions, listening carefully. He barely remembers Marc showing up, he'd been so out of it, but he remembers that the other man had brought groceries. After a moment of intense scrutiny he determines that unless his senses are failing, he's definitely alone in the apartment.

Groaning, he rises, taking the cup of water with him and drinking his fill before forcing himself to see what force of nature has wrecked his kitchen.

What he finds surprises him. Whatever dishes he'd used are sitting in the rack, his cutting board cleaned and replaced on the hook near the range. Even the garbage has been emptied. It's as if he'd never been there in the first place.

"Well I'll be," He marvels aloud. He opens the refrigerator to find a large stockpot of soup, proof that Devrim needs a better array of storage containers and that Marc was not joking.

He searches for a ladle in the drawers, only to discover it and a single place setting laid out on the counter beside the refrigerator. Shaking his head, the sick militiaman takes his time reheating the bowl.

It might be mean, but he's glad Marc is long gone when he tries it. He might be sick, and his sense of taste might be lacking, but the soup is out of this world.

Marc isn't surprised to see someone else standing at Devrim's post the next morning.

What he is surprised to see, however, is the lush bouquet of cream-colored roses delivered to his office while he's out at his ten o'clock meeting. He does not want to imagine what Devrim paid for same-day delivery. Assuming they're from Devrim.

At least, he really hopes they're from Devrim. Cream roses are a rather traditional flower of gratitude. Seems his style.

He waits until his nosy co-workers buzz off, slipping the card into his suit jacket to prevent them from asking. Which they do. Surprise flowers are the most exciting thing to happen in the planning office since his secretary adopted a dog. Which was cute, but the event has come and gone and Marc would be more invested if it was a cat and not some yappy little thing the woman keeps insisting upon bringing to the office.

When the anticipation feels like it’s literally killing him, he very covertly removes the small envelope and opens the card, which has an elegant scroll of ‘Thanks’ embossed on the front of it.

Inside, it’s blank.

It’s from Devrim alright.

His tablet buzzes around the time he’d go for lunch. Which, without anyone to meet, there’s no point, so he grabs another coffee and tries to get ahead on a proposal that has to go in front of the Consensus next week. It’s always extra brownie points if he gets it in early to Zavala.

Marc nearly forgets that he’s missed a message, he’s so in the zone. More than likely it’s from his secretary, who will insist on bringing him something to eat even though he’ll stop for something on the way home.

The reminder buzz interrupts his double check of a materials analysis.

>Take away? Assuming you and your new secret admirer don’t have plans.

Marc grins.

<I’ll see you in a few hours.

#destiny fanfiction #devrim kay #devrim x marc #devrim kay/marc #devrim's marc #destiny marc #i don't know how to tag him bungo can a girl get his last name please #making soup for a sick so #this fic is going to have so many tropes #i regret nothing

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floralguccistyles · 3 years

Photo

Remember when I said this fic was coming soon in March of 2020? Well...I promise I haven’t abandoned it. I want to finish Wildflower before I start on this, but I thought I might post a sneak peek because why not? Hope you guys enjoy!

mise en place, sneak peek

Michel’s soupe a l’oignon was burning.

But the fucking soup was burning.

I just also felt really, really bad for the customer who was waiting for their soup.

“Go run it under cool water. Cool, Michel, not cold. Ice-cold will damage the tissue even more. Then get a rag wet and hold it over. You can just go ahead and take your fifteen.”

“My soup—”

“Thanks, Dom. I’ll be in the lounge.”

“It’s fine. Tell Louis to offer them a dessert on the house because this soup is going to take at least another fifteen.”

I wanted to slam my head against the counter. Or better yet, use the pan Isobel was now putting on the drying rack to hit over my head. “Fuck. Alright.”

“Christ, Dom, you scared me,” he replied in a quiet voice, not wanting any of the customers to hear. “What?”

“Tell table eleven there was a complication with their soup and dessert is on the house.”

“What the fuck happened to their soup?”

I raised a brow. “Michel made it.”

“Fine. But I’m recommending the chocolate mousse because you’re here and you make it the best.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere,” I replied with a wink.

He grinned. “Got me into your bed, didn’t it?”

Thank the fucking lord he felt the same way.

“You’re damn right it did. Now go make me proud, Tomlinson.”

School had been lonely. At least here I felt like I belonged.

“They’re good for the chocolate mousse!” Louis shouted over the sound of Isobel doing the dishes and Italia chopping more vegetables.

“You’re a saint, Tomlinson!” I replied, dropping the spices needed onto Italia’s cutting board. She slid them into the soup with her knife and the skill of a seasoned Lesauvage veteran.

I thrived on that.

“I’m really sorry, Dom,” he said softly, preparing for my anger.

“It’s fine, Michel. Just work on desserts for now, okay? But this is the comp dessert for table eleven, so try to pay attention, yeah?”

“I made them, Tomlinson, of course they’re good,” I snapped, clicking my tongue in annoyance. It was a bad habit I had done when I was a kid and never seemed to shake it.

“Who?”

“Table eleven.”

She stopped talking when she noticed Louis and sent a blinding smile at us. “This is the chef, I presume?”

She waved it off. “The soup was fine. That chocolate mousse, however? It was to die for!”

“Dominique makes it the best,” Louis supplied helpfully from behind me. I grinned nervously.

“We all loved it,” the man holding her hand spoke, and I was surprised to hear an Irish accent. “It was the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“I have the weirdest proposition for you. Please feel free to say no if you don’t want to, but I would kick myself if I didn’t ask.”

My eyes strayed back to the woman, who was talking to me politely.

“I’m two months pregnant,” she said happily, her hand going to her stomach like most pregnant women did when their pregnancy was announced, “and I’m so incredibly exhausted nowadays. I can barely muster up enough energy to come out to dinner, let alone make myself toast in the morning. I was wondering if you’d ever consider being a personal chef?”

#mep #mep sneak peek #1dff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au

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