#if they look edible they go in the soup

[makothegayyburrito]

[quirkle2]

Qpr Wars and Legend is so sweet fisocjensnxj

I'm a sickfic sap so I'm just throwing my lil idea in too. When one of them isn't feeling great (for any reason tbh) they kinda magnet towards eachother.

Leg comes down with a fever and won't tell but he just keeps ending up bumping shoulders with Wars or leaning into his side when they stop. Puts gis head between War's shoulderblades to hide from the bright world and get a bit of reprieve. Ofc everyone tallies to try and help when they realize one of their own isn't doing so hot but Wars gets kinda Extra bc of the whole 'they worry about eachother so much' thing

GOES FERAL YES YESY ES

i will never get enough of sickfics and the inherent coziness of them when they're mainly comfort-based . wars would absolutely be a mother hen that's just how he is. he is so gentle and kind and somebody would have to take over whatever duties he has in the group bc rn his sole mission in life is to Hold Legend Gently

wars is the kinda guy to go out of his way to get the hard-to-find ingredients to make legend's favorite soup when he's sick . bundles him up all cozy :)

and u better believe ledge has a habit of trying to just trudge through sickness even when he needs rest so wars absolutely gets so hovery when ledge insists he's fine . and then when he is inevitably Worse bc of that wars is there to straight up lie on top of him so he can't go anywhere,,, Trapped . Imprisoned

[skhardwarevers1]

also on my last post about Moose I originally posted that because I have multiple scenarios in my head with Crayon and Moon being unable to work together because they don’t actually know what they’re doing and Miss Wormy-Moose “I have never done anything bad or serious in my life” Soup just goes and does something herself and interrupts them once she’s done.

[kcrossvine-art]

Hi fellow adventurers!! Welcome to chapter 2! We're going to be attempting a nice lil fruit-focused quiche/frittata/pie thing. And yes, tomatoes are fruits.

Who says you cant eat totally normal things in a dungeon with definitely no monsters in them? 

You know what that means; Man-Eating Plant Tart!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Man-Eating Plant Tart?” YOU MIGHT ASKThe way its prepared in the show is akin to a frittata, but the crust is borrowed from quiche world.

Eggs

Whole milk

Bell peppers

Persimmons

Cherry tomatoes

Pitted green olives

Thinly sliced OR shredded sweet potatos

Salt

Pepper

In the show they use leftover hotpot stock, slime, and mashed up fruit as the batter ingredients. Fruit mush is easy to work with but I couldn't find any stand-in for slime that would cook correctly into what they made in the show, and the hotpot stock is just not thick enough to carry the base. It is too many watery ingredients at once. Needing a thickening agent, both gelatin and agar agar were tried. It was edible but the texture was… gelatinous. Regular egg and milk will serve for our purposes.

The next complication was the crust- so in the show its made with the skins of fruit, straightforward yeah? Well. You see it also has to be 1. Thick enough to bake without burning 2. Harden through cooking to be sliced and held and 3. Inedible. Lotus leaves? Plantain leaves? Really thin gourds? I couldnt find any historical basis for a savory food cooked in this method, or similar method, with an intentionally inedible crust. I could find a few dishes which used leaves as their crust, but none that hardened during cooking and even less that used fruit skin. I chose sweet potato skin for its visual match and texture. It is edible, and it is not a fruit.

I hope youll forgive me for these 2 major deviations as i wanted to keep it looking how it does in the show while also ensuring it tastes good.

AND, “what does a Man-Eating Plant Tart taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKFluffy, airy, savory, salty.

The density of the eggs is offset by the crisp fruits

And the saltiness doesnt overpower the remnant fruit-sweetness

(If you eat the crust) the sweet potato brings this nice muted, smokey, flavor

Spongecake-esque in consistency

Would pair well with cranberry or strawberry juice

Would also pair well with a mellow hot sauce?

. You can use heavy cream instead of milk for a creamier batter . Roast the fruit longer to remove more liquid if too wet (and vice versa if too dry) . Smoked paprika, pepper flakes, cumin, garlic powder, and onion powder would taste good in the mixture

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"A mixture of mashed up and cut up Man-Eating Plant fruit, slime and scorpion soup is poured into a pan lined with the flattened peel of the fruit and cooked before garnishing with some more fruit. Described as salty by the group."

From start to finish this recipe took 3-ish hours? Shredding the potatoes took the longest, so if you get them bagged itd be cut down. A very filling recipe and a good way to sneak veggies/fruits in if you have a hard time getting enough of those essential nutrients. The best advice i can give is to add salt/seasonings at every stage of the process, to build up layers. It makes a difference flavor-wise (even if its just salt). I advise against reheating if possible. The filling will make the crust soggy over time.

If you want to be closer to the cooking of the show, you could double the fruit amounts and mash them together while halving the amount of egg and milk. I hadnt tried due to budget reasons, but it should work with some finangling. I'll pass the final verdict off to you guys with how todays recipe turned out <333

What would you rate this recipe out of 10? (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do better, and what would you have done instead?

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

3 Eggs

13oz whole milk

2 bell peppers

2 small persimmons

140oz cherry tomatoes

12oz pitted green olives

34oz thinly sliced OR shredded sweet potatos

Salt

Pepper

Method:

Heat oven to 420f and grease a 9-inch pie pan.

Thinly slice (or shred) your sweet potatoes and squeeze out any excess moisture. Coat in olive oil, salt and pepper.

Press sweet potato mixture evenly into and up the sides of the pie pan.

Blind bake for roughly 25 minutes or until lightly golden-brown. No worries if the edges get crisp.

Remove pie pan from oven and set aside.

Core and chop up your bell peppers and persimmons. Coat with olive oil, salt, and pepper.

Line out on a baking sheet, evenly spaced, and roast for roughly 20 minutes or until softened. (you can do this at the same time on a separate rack from the pie crust if you have room)

Remove the stems from your cherry tomatoes, and drain/dry your green olives if canned.

Bring a frying pan to medium heat with olive oil. Add the green olives and sautee until their skin texture starts dimpling. Add the cherry tomatoes and continue sauteeing for about 5 minutes or until lightly browned.

Once the bell peppers, persimmons, cherry tomatoes, and green olives are all done, set aside to cool until just above room temp.

Lower the oven temperature to 350f.

In a mixing bowl combine your eggs and milk, add salt to taste. If you want other seasonings nows a good time!

Once uniform in color and texture, add your cooked fruit. Stir until evenly distributed.

Pour mixture into the potato pie crust.

Bake for roughly 40 minutes. The filling should be mostly firm, but wiggle *slightly* when you shake the pan.

Remove from oven and let rest for roughly 15 minutes before serving.

[m1d-45]

i love your sagau/imposter au fics so much (esp kazuha’s),, do you think nahida would be able to sense if the creator isnt an imposter because of her having access to Irminsul and being able to see if there are records of them? anyways okok so uh hear me out, maybe the creator tries to seek safety in sumeru while they’re being hunted? sorry if this is a lengthy ask ekwjkwm anyways thanks for reading, ur amazing !

sandy refuge

word count: 3.4k

-> warnings: spoilers for the final sumeru archon quest

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

sumeru was a deadly nation.

liyue was guarded by the adepti, and inazuma’s storms tore the sea around the archipelago to shreds, but sumeru…

sumeru, the land of wisdom, headed by academics and led by scholars and sages. the nation split in two, lush forests barely a stones throw from barren deserts, believers of two (three?) separate gods walking side by side through the city. for a nation so divided, it was rare to get everybody to agree on something, every decision inevitably and invariably leaving some group of people unsatisfied.

and yet, there they were, united under one flag. eremites and the matra, the beige robes of the desert dwellers shifting in the wind besides the glittering armor of the akademiya’s soldiers, spears and swords aligned towards the same target.

it would be beautiful, if only you weren’t the one they rallied against.

you didn’t know how long you had been running when you managed to work your way past the wall, nor how long you had managed to stumble across sand dunes before finding your current oasis.

literally. trees swayed around a large pool of clear water, thick grass cushioning your knees as you barely hesitated before cupping some in your hands and drinking. it was blessedly cool, and you were tempted to swim in it and let it soothe the continuous heat from the desert sun. sadly, you didn’t have a spare set of clothes, and you weren’t keen on stripping when the matra could storm the place at any moment.

or the eremites. or the corp of thirty. or literally anybody else, since you’ve apparently been declared public enemy number one.

you splashed some water on your face and over your head, goosebumps rising where a drop raced beneath the collar of your shirt. how water was so cold when the sand was so hot, you didn’t know, but you weren’t going to complain.

after drinking a few more handfuls of the water, you finally looked around. there was a large spire of stone next to the oasis, flanked by large trees, with a thankfully abandoned hilichurl hut beside it.

you try not to think about how an archer would have had an easy shot as you were drinking.

at the base of a few of the trees is something green, and you remember the nuts that grew in the desert. you were too wary of the henna berries and the cacti they grew on to try and eat those, but you distinctly remember these being used in a few recipes.

all you could do was hope they were edible raw.

you stood—your vision blurred, the ground tilting, but you ignored it—and walked around the oasis, inspecting the green and hoping it wasn’t a fungus.

good news, it wasn’t. bad news, it was the husk of one of the nuts, hollow without any of the fruit inside. fresh, by the looks of it, the green leaves squishing instead of crumbling when you kicked at them.

great.

you sat on the curved trunk of one of the trees, holding up a hand to shade your eyes as you looked up. you could see another nut, hanging off the top of a tree, but.. the bark of the trees were smooth, and any of your athletic abilities were worn away by exhaustion and malnutrition.

you let your head drop and tried not to focus on your hunger, instead inspecting the mix of sand and grass beneath your feet. sand and grass. all of sumeru, represented right at your feet. hot, slippery sand, and cool, spiky grass. the desert and the forest, two wildly different ecosystems, and yet… both drove you out.

you tried not to cry, to push away the helplessness of the situation, but you couldn’t. what had you done, you wondered, for your very face to cause such an uproar? for two separate groups of people, divided in location, name, and faith to ally in their shared hatred of you? if somebody asked you what the millelith, matra, and eremites had in common about six months ago, you couldn’t have answered. you’d have thought about it, maybe, but drawn a blank outside of ‘defenders.’

but what were they defending? and how were you a threat?

when the first tear fell, so did something else.

you jumped at the dense thud, digging your nails—overgrown, bitten at, broken—into the bark as you searched for the source of the noise.

a large fruit had fallen, the one you were eyeing earlier by the looks of it. it sat atop the empty husk of another, magically fallen from the tree by seemingly nothing.

you weren’t going to complain.

you slid off the tree, reaching for the nut, grabbing the stem and pulling, but dropped it just as fast. a fungus was standing just behind it, large orange eyes looking up at you.

you were frozen. would it attack you? was it trying to eat? did they even need to? could you get sick from fungus spores? even if you couldn’t, getting hurt wasn’t worth the meal…

the fungus tilted to one side, then the other, bumping the large fruit towards you.

it… was giving it back?

you stared, but the fungus didn’t move. when you carefully tugged at the nut, slowly drawing it closer so you could properly pick it up, it didn’t move. it just watched you, the rim of its cap slightly falling into its eyes.

you sat back on the tree, pulling it into your lap. the outer leaves were coarse, softening as you pulled away the many layers. there was a high chance some of the inner leaves were edible, but you didn’t want to take chances. the fruit itself was a pale green, easily tearing under your fingers. it was soft, with the barest edge of sweetness that had you prying up more. it wouldn’t make for a full meal, but it was certainly far better than nothing.

you checked on the fungus every once in a while, but it just stood there. by your guess, it was the floating anemo kind, but where was its group? fungi rarely appeared alone, and part of you felt bad.

(felt bad. for a fungus. you’re in dirty, torn clothes and on the run for your life, and you still find the empathy for a fungus. at least you knew your morals were still intact.)

you offered a piece of the nut to the fungus, but it didn’t react. instead it turned, floating into the air and drifting away.

…alright.

you try to eat the fruit slowly, as to not make yourself sick, taking breaks to sip more water from the lake to dim the sweetness. you didn’t know how long the fruit would stay good now that you’d opened it, but you were trying to enjoy it. its not as if you were overflowing with excess, and you likely couldn’t linger here long. you don’t even know why you resorted to the desert anyway.. between cyno, the ruins, scorpions, the primal constructs.. to say it was dangerous was an understatement. even if you made it to the far west, the pari were there, and you didn’t think they would take too kindly to you. fontaine wouldn’t be much better, provided you somehow crossed the sea around it…

nowhere was safe. you supposed that was the point, that nobody would give you refuge, but it still hurt. you didn’t think you’d ever land in this situation when you first downloaded the game..

whatever. you’re not going to go down that path for the nth time. you hold the remains of the nut in one arm as you stand, picking off chunks as you walk toward the hilichurl hut. with any luck there would be something useful inside, or at least be a safe place to rest temporarily.

the camp looks like it’s been clear recently, which is both good and bad. good, because neither hilichurls nor patrols should come by here for a bit, but bad because it lowers your chances of finding anything useful. there’s no arrowheads or vegetables, not even embers in the fire pit, all the supply boxes long since broken.

at least it’s shelter. at least you had food today, and (hopefully) clean water. small wins, small wins…

you gather your strength and begin to drag all the rubble into the hut, using what was left of their training dummies to make a hollow pile. hopefully it would just look like trash to anyone walking by, and could maybe keep you warm. the scraps of furs littered over the camp were matted with something you didn’t want to think about, so this was your best bet.

man, you missed your bed.

you returned to the oasis for more water, scrubbing off some of the dirt from your arms and face. you wouldn’t be clean for long, what with the dirt floor you’d picked as your shelter, but it felt nice. a topical fix for a bone deep wound.

you didn’t try to clean your clothes, eyeing the sun dipping in the sky. having wet clothes wouldn’t help at night, even if it might feel good. perhaps tomorrow? yes, tomorrow. tomorrow you could scrub at your shirt—*blood doesn’t clean easily without soap*—and try to undo some of the knots in your hair, maybe even use leaves and some of the scraps of twine around the camp to bring some water with you.

tomorrow. you got this. surely.

(just ignore the fact that you don’t know where in the desert you are. or how easy it would be to get lost, or dehydrate. nope. this is a perfectly fine and normal situation that you have an okay amount of control over. you got this. you have to.)

you return to the hut, retrieving the other half of your fruit and taking it with you into your pitiful shelter. at least you didn’t have to worry about rain…

it was only slightly cramped beneath the pile of junk, but you had enough room for you and your food. you laid there for a long time, occasionally peeling off pieces to eat. you didn’t know how much was left, and you didn’t think about it, distracting yourself by thinking about tomorrow. if you were clever with some sticks you could fashion some wider soles for your shoes to get more grip on the sand, or maybe a hat to keep from burning… but there was water and food to worry about, but the area along the wall was certainly dangerous, but it might be worth it if it meant you lived a little longer…

you fell asleep at some point, the faint sweetness of your dinner lingering on your tongue.

normally, waking up to someone barely a foot from your person would be unsettling. in your situation, it was terrifying.

you immediately pushed yourself back, crawling backwards away from nahida. she was kneeling, seeming surprised at your actions. you almost wondered how she was out here, and in your survey of the area, it clicked.

you weren’t in the hut anymore. you’d missed it in your fear, but you were lying on grass, in a small meadow. you didn’t pay too much attention to it though, putting a hand to your chest to try and calm your heart.

“just a dream,” you breathed, and nahida’s expression fell. not into anger, more.. sadness?

“i’m sorry if i startled you.” her voice was soft, but flat, motions stiff as she stood up and dusted off her dress.

what a weird dream. first you’re lucid, then she’s here… maybe it was wishful thinking. maybe your brain had finally had enough.

“it’s fine,” you said, taking another look around the field. tall trees arched high above you, the bushes and ferns between them reminding you of the rainforest. in the center were three chairs, with various plates laid out on the table between them. you stood, automatically wiping for any grass caught on you, only to find that you were actually wearing clean clothes again—one of your favorite outfits, actually.

you mostly ignored nahida as you walked to the table, looking over the various dishes. you recognized a few as sumeru recipes, but not all of them, deciding to pick at a bowl of fruit instead. you’re not sure how dreams work here—you haven’t had many since coming to teyvat—but it feels safer to stick with a food you’ve actually tried before.

(you ignore the nut from the oasis. calculated risk.)

“i hope they’re to your liking?” nahida’s voice is hesitant as she comes to your side, sitting in one of the chairs. you don’t do the same.

“i’m surprised i remember so many of these,” you say instead, looking over the sheer variety of food laid out. your subconscious has done well.. almost a bit too well.

“eat. you need the energy.”

“i’ll just miss them in the morning, and it’s not like they’ll give me any actual nutrition.”

“…please, my god.”

your head whips to her in an instant, the fruit falling from your hand as if it was poison. it could be, considering everything.

even after all these months, you’d let your guard down. in front of the one god who had control over dreams, you ate of her food and showed that you were weak.

nahida raises her hands, and you have half a mind to grab a knife off the table. it wouldn’t do anything, but it would make you feel better. “it’s just me. there’s nobody else in this dream.”

you should have known better. “leave me alone.”

“i mean you no harm, i only-“

you put your hands over your ears and close your eyes, trying to make yourself wake up. you pictured the walls of the hut, of your makeshift shelter and the leaves of last night’s dinner. you pretend you can’t hear her voice, that the only sound is the whisper of the wind.

if only you’d remembered her powers quicker, or perhaps discovered yours sooner.

you don’t know how long it took you to break free from the dream, or if you managed to break it at all. you just knew that you woke up to the sounds of talking from outside your hut, the words were faint but still discernible from the wind. two voices, one soft and one rough, picking their way around the oasis.

you didn’t dare try to run, instead shifting some of the wood in your pile to cover the entrance. where could you even go if they found you? west was dangerous, east was deadly, north led you into either a sandstorm or a dead-end sea, and south was entirely uncharted, and that was assuming you even made it that far.

they came closer, and you reached for one of the smaller planks in your small shelter. it was still about the length of your forearm, and though the rest of the stack shifted, you felt a bit safer. maybe you could hide in a cave for a while until they left? no, that would mean you’d have to get enough of a lead to lose them, and you doubted you could run that fast.

“-abandoned.” there was a sound like a rock kicked against the side of the hut, covering the sound of your breath as you recognized the voice. “you sure this is the right place?”

wanderer.

“i’m certain, i saw it myself.”

and nahida. she probably tapped into your mind to see where you were trying to wake up to… it would be clever if your life wasn’t on the line.

footsteps drew ever closer, and it was getting hard to judge the distance. the hut was empty save for your little scrap pile, but how close was too close? could you even have a chance with wanderer’s skill? not to mention the dendro archon…

maybe you were doomed from the start. there was no good ending for you, just a constant delay of the fate that you dodged when you first set foot on this planet.

how long has it been? how much time have you borrowed? teyvat had ghosts, would you become one? would you return to earth? did your earth even exist anymore? this was not the time for this debate…

a shadow moved, and nahida’s voice was far closer than it was before. “divine one?”

you bit your cheek as to not laugh. ‘divine one.’ she already had a god, the one that had ordered this mess to begin with. the first person you ran into, ironically, who had on sight declared you a criminal. you didn’t want to be associated with that person at all, thank you. did she think that you thought you were the god? you wouldn’t be hiding if you did.

“buer. you’re talking to a pile of sticks.”

“i’m aware.” her voice grew quieter, like she’d turned around. “but we need to be patient.”

“there’s an easier way to do this, you know.”

“after all that’s happened? there’s no easy solution to this.”

“that’s not what i…” he sighed. “can i show you something?”

“what is it?”

the air hissed, your pile broken by a blade of wind down the middle. the anemo curved around you, acting as a shield as the wood splintered and flew. you quickly pushed yourself up, sitting against the wall and looking between the two of them. nahida looked terrified, and the shock on wanderer’s face is comical. looks like he didn’t expect you to actually be in there.

he removed his hat from his head, quickly dropping to one knee, nahida doing the same barely a moment after. “my god.. i apologize for my haste.”

pardon?

nahida lifted her head, meeting your eyes with a hand to her chest. “and i’m sorry for invading your dream earlier. i just wanted to find you, and when i noticed you were in sumeru..”

wanderer is too prideful to apologize to anybody he doesn’t absolutely need to, even for a plan.. jut what’s going on here?

you fix your attention on nahida and hope she’s not a good liar. “don’t you already have a god you follow?”

nahida flinched, looking away. “that… was a mistake. i should have trusted my instincts, and for that i’m sorry. i had no idea that my silence would lead to this…”

either she’s a really convincing actor, or she means it. given the severity of the situation, you don’t want to assume.

“if it helps…” wanderer’s hands tighten on his hat, and he bows his head further. “my anemo protected you. even if i did mean to cause harm, that is more than enough proof of your identity.”

“…so i’m supposed to believe you? just like that?”

nahida shook her head. “i understand your apprehension. it’s hard to trust someone after everyone else has betrayed you, and i don’t expect you to come with me to the sanctuary right away. aaru village is close by, though, and i was hoping you would be willing to go there..?”

some part of you still thinks it’s a trick, that there would be a swarm of matra waiting for you. but honestly… running is tiring, and nahida is kind. you want to believe her, even if it does end up going poorly. what else do you have to lose, really?

you drop your poor excuse for a weapon, briefly checking your hands for splinters before standing up. you kick aside the remains of your dinner and dust yourself off, walking forward. “alright. i’ll go with you.”

nahida beams.

[auggieblogs]

"Totally worth it" | CL16

Charles Leclerc x reader Author's note: Hey, hiiii, loves. I hope you all are doing good!!! This fic is inspired by that one episode of "How I Met Your Mother"... you'll figure out which one. Happy reading, everyone<3

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

The sound of footsteps echoed through the house, signalling Charles' return from the grocery store. You were curled up on the couch, feeling absolutely miserable with a cold and a slight fever. Your tissues were piled up beside you, and you had a blanket draped over your shivering form. The room felt cold despite the heater being on, and you couldn't help but sigh in discomfort.

Charles burst into the living room, carrying bags of your favourite snacks and a brown paper bag from the drug store. "I'm back, amor," he announced with a warm smile, placing the bags on the coffee table.

You smiled weakly in response, appreciating his effort to make you feel better. "Thank you, baby", you mumbled, your voice hoarse.

Charles came over, his brows furrowed with concern and felt your forehead. "You're still warm," he said softly. He then fetched a thermometer from the medicine cabinet and sat down beside you. "Open up for me, y/n." He gently placed the thermometer under your tongue and waited patiently. After a moment, he checked it and smiled, "Your fever has gone down a little bit."

You sighed in relief as he kissed your forehead, his lips warm and comforting. Charles turned on Gilmore Girls, and fluffed the pillows behind your head. He snuggled up beside you, gently kissing your knuckles.

As the day turned into evening, Charles decided it was time to make you some dinner. He headed to the kitchen, despite his terrible cooking skills, he was determined to make you some homemade chicken noodle soup. He had learned the recipe from his mother and hoped that he could manage it for your sake. You could hear him pottering about and occasionally muttering to himself.

Charles prepared the soup with love and care, making sure the broth was just right, the noodles were cooked to perfection, and the vegetables were tender. He even added a little extra seasoning, just the way you liked it.

He eventually returned with a steaming bowl of soup, a proud smile on his face. "Here you go, my love," he said, sitting beside you.

Now, I know I'm not the best cook," he admitted, "but this is the one dish my mum taught me to make. I hope it's not too terrible."

You couldn't help but laugh, a sound that turned into a coughing fit. Charles quickly handed you a glass of water before blowing on the soup to cool it down. He took a spoonful and carefully brought it to your lips. "Here, amor, let's see if it's edible."

You took a tentative sip, surprised by the taste. It was actually quite good. You nodded and smiled as Charles fed you spoonfuls, his eyes never leaving your face.

Once you had eaten, he gently wiped your mouth with a napkin and placed the empty bowl on the nightstand. Then, he tucked you back in bed, ensuring you were snug and comfortable.

He leaned in to kiss you goodnight, but you stopped him, concern in your eyes. "You don't want to kiss me, you'll get sick, Charlie."

He didn't say anything but held your face in his hands and kissed you sweetly. He'd risk a cold to take care of you.

Charles climbed into bed with you, a book in hand, and began to read aloud. His voice was soothing, and you slowly drifted off to sleep.

A few days later, it was his turn to succumb to the cold. You found him wrapped in a cocoon of blankets on the couch, looking miserable and adorable all at once. You prepared a warm bowl of soup and fed it to him, blowing on it just as he had done for you.

As you sat by his side, feeding him spoonfuls of soup, Charles couldn't help but smile through his stuffed nose.

"Totally worth it," he mumbled between bites, making you giggle.

[strawberrystepmom]

gojo x f!reader. gojo and reader are in an semi-established relationship although he is referred to as boyfriend in this. cw: food, tantanmen is a spicy ramen soup. hurt/comfort if you squint, bad day lamentations, and one of my personal favorite gojo facts: man hates spicy food. i also hc him as a picky eater so here we go.

wc 1.5k | divider by cafekitsune

“I want tantanmen.”

Satoru’s bottom lip begins sticking out as soon as he hears the first letter of his most dreaded of your post-stressful day cravings leave your mouth.  

The bane of his existence - spicy food. It overwhelms his senses, a fact you’re well aware of, making it a rarity that you would even ask. That’s how he knows today has been capital-R rough for you and although he wants to help make your difficult day better, there’s hesitation in his step and he stops you on the train platform to put his hands on your shoulders. His grip is just firm enough to bring you comfort and you glance up at him looking so dejected he almost thinks better of his next question. Consideration - something he is not always the best at doing - be damned, he cannot stop himself before the words slip out.  

“Are you sure you don’t want something else instead?”

Hurt flashes across your face and you don’t bother to hide it. Every single one of your boyfriend’s whims is surrendered to no matter how ridiculous it is, trips and meals and sex positions and a million other tiny things you do to make him happy despite his insistence he doesn’t need them. Sure, it’s unfair for you to expect the same in return given you do it with no expectation of reciprocation but for once it would be nice to not have your choices questioned.

“You told me I could get anything I wanted and it was your treat. Are you changing your mind?”  

You raise a brow, slacken your jaw, and harden your gaze that is pointed upward in his direction. 

“I’ve had a rough day, Satoru. All I need is something so spicy it makes me cry.”

The tears threatening to fall from your lash line aren’t fake or for “getting your own way” purposes, you genuinely feel like you’re on the brink of tears and have all day. A scolding from Yaga, a disagreement regarding curriculum with Utahime via intense text message exchange, blatant disrespect from your students that they have yet to apologize - every bad moment piled up into something heavy to carry that weighs down on your chest. Thankfully, Satoru knows you well enough to be able to tell that you are being honest about the way you feel and arguing is futile.

“Fine,” he agrees with a loud exhale. “But on the way home we’re going to stop and get something edible to people who aren’t crazy, okay?”

Reaching for his hand, you nod and snuggle into his arm. Lacing your fingers between his, the stress visibly melts from you and a minuscule part of him feels bad for putting up an argument to your wishes at all. Is this really how he’s going to act when you are so undeniably sweet to him when you want to be? How many of his whims do you give into without having to think about it at all? Sighing, he leans toward you and kisses the top of your head, crowding you closer against his body. 

“You’re not going to make me try it this time?”

“No. I only did that once and besides, their menu is big. You are bound to find something you like if you just look.”

Giggling, you cling to his side and shrug playfully. The distinct shine of tears in your eyes has dissipated and your smile seems warmer than earlier, making him feel slightly less guilty for his blunder. 

Guilt isn’t something that he really dwells on often, as impermanent as the rest of his emotions tend to be, but it’s different when it’s you. Keeping you happy is just about the only thing he hasn’t been perfect at on the first attempt yet he keeps trying and figuring it out a little more every day. He figures you out a little more every day, honestly. It’s what keeps him coming back.

“But I like eating the same thing as you.” Satoru pouts again and you roll your eyes, squeezing your arm that is wrapped around his bicep. “I know but sometimes it doesn’t hurt either of us to try something new or different from the other.”

He hums his disbelief and the two of you walk alongside one another toward the gate.

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

Ordering your spicy soup with a smile at the front counter while your boyfriend situates the table the two of you will be sitting at, you check over your shoulder once before leaning in the direction of the young woman taking your order.

“I have a really weird request.”

She nods politely and you take a deep breath, knowing how rude it is to ask for changes to menu items when there are so many. Despite the impoliteness, you feel obligated to give him a little break while taking into consideration the one he has given you tonight.

“So the tantanmen…is there any way I could get just the broth and noodles without anything else?” The young woman blinks at you unenthusiastically and you straighten your shoulders, putting on your most winning smile. “How about a child’s serving with less spice? Is that something you could do?”

Wordlessly, she glances over your shoulder at the table your over six and a half feet tall man sits at in search of a child that could possibly need this kind of accommodation for their food. She spots none, only your boyfriend who is grinning down at his phone and laughing to himself.

“It’s for him. He doesn’t do spice very well, I know that’s ridiculous but we always order the same thing and I understand if you can’t do it. I just had to ask.”

She hums and presses the buttons on the screen in front of her, turning it to show you. One order of soup, extra spicy for you. One order of soup, just broth and no spice for Gojo. Gratefully, you bow your head and she plays it off with a smile. Even she can’t be terribly annoyed at a couple that clearly has figured out one another’s whims and she instructs you to go and sit at your table to await your order.

Sliding in next to him on the same side of the booth, as always, you grin and he puts his phone down immediately to wrap his arm around your shoulder. 

“What’d you order me?”

You shrug playfully and he gasps.

“You know I’ll simply go on hunger strike if you got me something spicy…” he trails off and you laugh, reaching up to tug on his earlobe the way you always do when he’s running his mouth. “You’ll just have to see what surprise I have in store.”

The two of you chit chat for a few minutes but the soup comes more quickly than you expected. Satoru’s face lights up when his eyes glance down at a bowl full of silky broth, pulling apart his chopsticks delightedly. It’s the same thing you have, just a little different and exactly how he likes it.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have!”

Laughing, you shake your head and follow his lead, glancing down into your own steaming bowl of relief. Opening your chopsticks, breaking them apart, giving thanks for the meal, they’re all as natural as breathing at this point and you smile at him again as he glances down into your bowl.

The broth of your soup is as red as anything he has ever seen.

“That looks like the fire of Hell,” he scoffs, scooping broth into his mouth and swallowing quickly. 

You take a sip from your spoon and sigh in relief, shoulders relaxing into a natural position instead of curved forward sadly. Despite his earlier protests, there’s nothing he’d rather do than sit here and watch you eat your troubles away, pinkies of both of your free hands touching below the table. 

“It just might be.”

The spice makes you sniffle and he’s quick to pick up a napkin, dabbing at the tip of your nose to make sure no dribbles have occurred. This is another habit he has picked up after all this time watching you challenge yourself to meals he wouldn’t touch if he had to. Wiping your nose and cheeks and making sure you drink water.

“Thank you for treating me.”

Leaning over your bowl, you slurp a mouthful of noodles and chew it thoughtfully. He watches your mouth and jaw move, reaching up to cup your face but stopping himself from kissing you with your mouth full. It wouldn’t be the first time but that damned spicy broth is all over your lips and he won’t take the risk as badly as he wants to.

“Thanks for letting me, you freak of nature.”

Giggling, you shrug and lean into his touch.

“It takes one to know one.”

No argument from him.

[myosotisa]

Hiding Lately - s.h. & e.m.

Eddie Munson x Reader x Steve Harrington

‖  summary: You've been hurting and hiding. Steve and Eddie come over to check on you and offer to help.

‖  tags: hurt/comfort. depictions of depression, a depressive episode, and anxiety. suicidal ideations. she/her pronouns, no y/n, nicknames are sweetheart, baby, angel, and doll. could be read as platonic or romantic.

‖  word count: 2.1k

The knock on your apartment door had never felt more damning than it did in that moment.

A knock on the front door was always a nightmare for someone who struggled with their mental health but that was on good days. Today, a knock on the door was definitely not something you were prepared to handle.

So you ignored it. Pulled your covers even further up over your head and hoped that whoever it was would just go away.

No such luck.

You hear the muffled sound of the deadbolt turning and then the seal of the door breaking as it inches open. “Hellooooo?” Is the familiar echo out into the empty space of your place. “Anybody home?”

“She’s gotta be here, her car is out front.”

Fuck it’s both of them. Every hope you had of just hiding and Eddie leaving got thrown out the window the moment you heard Steve was with him. On their own, either might be disheartened by no response – decide they were invading your privacy and leave before venturing too far inside.

Together, encouraging each other, it’s only a matter of minutes before they knock at your bedroom door.

Your pigsty of a bedroom that is covered in dirty clothes and dishes and probably smells weird and they can’t see–

“Don’t come in,” you rasp from your bed, voice tired from disuse as you break your silence for the first time in who knows how long.

“Sweetheart, where have you been?” Steve’s voice comes through the door, obviously right outside it. “We've been calling and calling for days.”

“I… I’ve been sick.”

“Sick? Why didn’t you say something, angel? Could’ve brought you some soup or something,” Eddie adds, sounding concerned. You can clearly picture the wrinkle between his eyebrows.

Eyes closing from their stare at the ceiling, you take a deep breath to force down the sickness that is threatening to rise with every lie that leaves your mouth. “I’m contagious. Don’t want to get you sick.”

“Oh, come on. We’re big strong men, right Harrington? We can fend off a little stomach bug, no problem.”

“Super human immune system, baby,” Steve confirms, and you can hear the smile on his face. It nearly breaks your heart. “No chance you’ll give us anything. So can we come in?”

“No!”

Neither of them say a word after your quick and forceful denial, leaving it to feel like it’s echoing out around the room and grating back into your own eardrums. Just to get it to stop, you softly add, “Please don’t.”

While you’re worried it might’ve been too soft for them to hear, you’re proven wrong by Steve saying, “Then will you come out here?” It’s a soft plea, warm and velvety in its concern and compassion, and it feels like a knife in the chest. “Tell us what’s really going on?”

There’s no way to get out of this. You haven’t showered in days, you probably smell rough and look even worse. You’ve been wearing the same sweatpants and hoodie for a week. And you’re going to have to open your door and face your two closest friends like this.

If you don’t go out there, they will come in here. And that’s too much, it’s safe in here, they can’t come in here–

“Okay, okay. I’m… Just gimme a minute.”

“Take your time, we’ll go hang out on the couch,” you hear one set of footsteps away from your door after Steve’s confirmation.

“Not too long though,” Eddie teases, “I’m gonna raid your fridge and eat all of it if you don’t stop me.”

The threat means nothing as he walks away too. There’s nothing in your fridge left that’s edible.

Anxiety from them being here and wanting them to be gone is enough to get you out of bed for the first time today, picking through the remaining pile of clean clothes to find a different pair of sweatpants and a top that isn’t as marinated in body as your current set, slapping on some deodorant and changing your underwear at the same time. You do the bare minimum to make your hair look less like a greasy, horrible mess and gargle some mouthwash because it’s easier than trying to brush your teeth. This already feels like so, so much effort and you haven’t even faced them yet.

This shouldn’t be this hard. Why the fuck is being a normal human being so hard for you? What is wrong with you–

As soon as you’ve even cracked the door open, their murmuring to each other stops and they turn toward you, looking small and unsure in your doorway. Two pairs of brown eyes staring holes into you, seeing right through you, and it feels so fucking painful that you want to just slam the door shut again. They’re looking at you so softly, with so much warmth and openness. 

Because they pity you.

“What do you want?” Your voice is colder and softer than you meant it to be, not moving from your spot that blocks the view of your room from them. You could step out into the living room and close the door behind you to hide your shame, but leaving the safety of your bedroom isn’t something you’re willing to do yet.

“Your fridge is empty.” Eddie’s voice is as soft as yours but the corners of his mouth are turned down in a small frown. “The dishes in your sink have started to smell. Your trashcan and your mailbox are both overflowing.”

Shame and embarrassment presses hot behind your eyes, looking down at your feet. “If you’re just here to point out everything that’s wrong, you can get the fuck out of–”

“Sweetheart.” Steve cuts you off, not cruelly but enough to make you stop anyway. “When’s the last time you ate anything?”

Your heart drops into your stomach when he slowly stands, starting to slowly walk toward you like you’re a skittish animal. “I dunno… I’m not hungry.”

“Shit,” Eddie mutters from the couch, head falling to look at his clasped hands as he leans forward on his elbows.

“When’s the last time you showered? Left your apartment?” Steve continues, looking like his heart is breaking.

“Steve…” You whisper, a croak in your voice again while you shake your head at him. “Please, don’t… Don’t make me answer that.”

Eddie’s head raises again, drawing your attention. He looks just as heart broken as Steve. “Why didn’t you say anything, doll?”

A humorless laugh leaves you, sounding more like a choked gasp. “What the fuck was I supposed to say, huh? ‘Hey, sorry guys, I can’t even get myself to go to the fucking grocery store like a normal human being, can you help?’”

“Yeah,” he answers, sounding almost angry, shaggy hair falling off his shoulders when he nods, “for a start.”

“Eddie.” Steve looks back at him sharply, giving him a warning look that makes him soften again. When he looks back to you, still a safe few feet away, he asks, “What happened, sweetheart? What’s got you…?”

“Hurting?” Eddie offers when the other falters, pushing off his knees to stand as well.

“It’s just…” Your voice cracks, tears you haven’t been able to find in days suddenly pushing at your eyes without warning. You squeeze them closed as your breath catches to try and stop them.

What are you gonna tell them? ‘Oh everything’s so hard.’ Just tell them you’re a fucking child who can’t handle being alive? Might as well push them out the door now–

“Hey,” Steve’s soft voice interrupts your mental berating, taking another few steps closer. “It’s okay. You can tell us anything.”

“No judgement,” Eddie adds, an echo of one of the first things you said to him when the two of you met. It’s been a constant in the relationship you have with both of them. Anything any of you say – no matter how stupid, or fucked up, or wrong – no judgement. Maybe some teasing, depending on how stupid. But they’ve never judged you for anything and there is no reason for them to start now.

But this? Trusting someone, opening up to someone, letting someone in about this? The idea is terrifying.

“Everything’s just…” You trail off again, looking off and down the hallway away from them as you bring your arms up in a sort of hug for yourself. “It’s all just a lot, right now.”

“Will you…” Eddie shoves his hands into his pockets as he kicks out his boot like he’s kicking a rock. “Will you let us help you?”

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish the sentence. “I– I can’t ask you to do that.”

Steve’s fingertips brush your elbow, the first human touch you’ve had in longer than you can remember, and it has your head whipping toward him. “You’re not asking. We're offering.”

Hot tears increase the pressure in your head, now starting to pool at the bottoms of your eyes as you struggle to make eye contact with either of them.  “I don’t even know how you could help. It’s just… I can’t…”

I want to curl into a ball on the floor and wait to die–

“How about this,” Eddie walks up, moving to rest his shoulder on the wall beside the door frame you still occupy. “I’m gonna run to the store and stock up, plus grab us all something to eat on the way back.”

You open your mouth to protest but he holds up his hand, “Ah, ah, ah.” It’s enough scolding to close your lips again in a tight line before he points at Steve. “Mr. Mom here can get started on cleaning up the kitchen so it’s nice and easy to cook in. And you tell us what you want to do.”

Your teary eyes finally look back and forth between them, begging for an answer – for them to put you out of your misery for even just a moment. “I can give you a couple of options to choose from, if that would help?” Steve offers, fingertips still lightly resting on your elbow.

Door 3, door 3, door 3, every bone in my body wants to get back in bed and never get up–

Squeezing your eyes shut, both to let some of the tears fall and to push back the shame that wants to explode out of your mouth, you give him a stuttered nod of your head. “Okay. Door #1: While we do that, you go and try to take a shower.” The immediate pain must show on your face, because he quickly moves on.

“Door #2: You come out here and lay on the couch while I start to clean up. You can take a nap, or we can talk, or we can listen to music – whatever you want. And Door #3, you go back and curl up in bed and we come back to get you when Eddie has some food for us.”

A shaky breath in and out, you open your eyes to look at them. Eddie’s face is forced casual while Steve offers a small and supportive smile. You know they wouldn’t judge you if you picked Door #3 and got back into bed. If you went back to the indent you’ve most likely made from all the hours and hours spent in the same spot. But you want to try. Even if it’s just a little bit. Even if you end up back in bed right after anyway.

“If… If I pick Door #2,” Eddie’s mouth tilts up slightly and Steve’s eyebrows raise in interest, “then can I have a hug?”

“Oh angel,” Eddie presses a hand to his chest, right over his heart. “If you thought you were going to get away without a hug in any of those options, you’re sorely mistaken.”

You exhale a small laugh out of your nose, a teary smile on your face as they both step up to sandwich you between them in a tight hug. Eddie’s face presses to your ear, curly hair tickling your nose as he rests his mouth on your shoulder. Steve settles higher, resting his cheek on the side of your head as he tucks you closer to his chest. Both boys are warm, solid, and alive on either side of you – almost crushing you with the force of the embrace. But it’s the best crush you’ve ever felt, one that tells you that you’re alive and that someone cares. It makes the tears come through faster, falling down your cheeks with more force as you shudder in a breath.

Steve presses a kiss to your temple, squeezing you just a little bit tighter. “We’re here for you, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s hand fists in the back of your shirt, forcing you an inch closer. “As long as you need us. Not going anywhere.”

-

now I live in a place that feels smaller by the day four walls closing in from months spent inside them there is too much grief packed into this small place packed into this bed with unchanged sheets packed between these ribs that somehow are still unbroken and no one has ever been here not in this space, not in this bed, not between these ribs they are too full of my own grief for there to be any space

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thanks for reading. please reblog and leave a reaction if you liked it, they make my day.

[jungle-angel]

The Need For Weeds (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: Bob learns a very valuable lesson from Meemaw about some things that are necessary for a garden

Warnings: Parenthood, mentions of pregnancy and breastfeeding etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @sebsxphia @bradshawsbaby @rhettabbotts @callmemana @attapullman

"Alright sweetheart," Meemaw told bob as they kept digging in the boxes. "Now remember, the flowers are all well and right, but there are some things that ya'll are gonna want in here."

"Oh?' Bob asked her.

"Yep," Meemaw answered brushing the dirt off her hands. "For one thing we're gonna need some lamb's ear, dandelion, clover. Definitely gonna want goldenrod, goosegrass and nettle."

"Aren't those all weeds though, Meemaw?" he asked her.

"Oh yes, but they'll keep out all the shit you don't want in here," she explained. "They're also good for spicin up stews, soups and other stuff in the kitchen. I've gotta lend ya'll Pawpaw's book of edible plants that he made when he was in Korea, you'll get a real kick outta that."

Bob laughed a little as he continued helping his grandmother in the garden while Auggie continuously ran back and forth with his little shovel, asking if he could dig yet. When Meemaw had told him no, he ran off to the sandbox to dig a hole of his own.

"Ya'll by any chance get some fish from the farmer's market yesterday?" she asked him.

"Yeah but it was for dinner for when you and Papa came over," Bob explained.

"Damn," Meemaw hissed under her breath. "That would've made the garden go nuts."

"Wait," Bob said. "We do have something in the greenhouse though."

He ran off to go and grab the watering can and the plastic container of liquid fertilizer, dumping just a little bit of the foul, fishy smelling substance in the bottom of the watering can.

"Oh good God this shit is FOUL," he chuckled, feigning a gagging noise.

"But it'll work," Meemaw told him.

All over the freshly planted flowers and vegetables it went, including the beds where Bob and his grandmother had planted the lamb's ear, dandelion, chicory and other weeds she had rattled off to him.

As he planted, he could hear you softly singing to Patrick, his soft little coos intertwined with your voice, coming from the open living room window. The birds that had nested in the crape myrtles had begun to sing, their tiny little chicks chirping as though they were singing with you. Bob swore he was looking and listening to heaven itself, surprising you as he poked his head in through the window to kiss you.

[gyuslcve]

10:48pm

genre: fluff, domestic bc i’m a sucker for that

rq: not a request

word count:

reblogs, comments and feedback are appreciated !

notes: I AM SO SO SORRY FOR GOING AWOL YALL. been caught up with school but i finally have some time off now. this was kind of (pretty much) self indulgent but enjoy :)

taglist (dm me to join!) : @icyminghao @haowrld @etherealyoungk

vernon can’t cook. if there’s anything you need to know about him, he can’t cook. despite this, you find yourself waking up to a familiar scent flowing through the house.

wincing slightly at the headache, you removed the blanket- wait, blanket? oh, pillows too. didn’t you fall asleep on the couch? confused, you get up from the bed and padded to the living room, only to see vernon wearing an apron that was visibly too small for him, cooking at the countertop of the kitchen.

smiling, you walk up behind him and wrapped your arms around him. he jumps a little. oops.

“baby?”

“hey nonie.”

your boyfriend chuckles lightly at the nickname, lowering the heat and turns around to face you. “i told you not to call me that.” he says jokingly, eyes softening as he takes in the tiredness written all over you. vernon tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, and as if it was done instinctively, places a soft kiss on your temple, then your forehead.

“what are you doing? you can’t even cook ramyeon.” you say, peering behind him, trying to find out what he was making. it looked exactly like what your mother cooked for you whenever you fell ill. how-

“you said you left work early ‘cause you felt sick. i remember you told me about this beef soup your mother makes for you, so i called her and asked her for the recipe.” vernon shrugs, like he wasn’t the same person that was shaking when he first met your mother.

oh god. you’re gonna marry this man. you’ve decided.

“oh.. thank you.” he hums, turning around and stirs a bit more. “i’m almost done, gimme a minute and i’ll pour you a bowl ‘kay? rest for now, please.” vernon briefly turns his head around and presses another kiss on your forehead, smiling at you.

as you find your seat on the couch, you watch your boyfriend who has a wooden spatula in his hand, stirring every once in a while. you really thought you would never ever see him cook in this lifetime but - not anymore.

“vernon, you really cooked that up?” you say in awe, slowly taking in the fact that he was in the kitchen and somehow did not make any mess, and even something edible. vernon laughs, “yes, i did.” you squint at him questioningly.

“okay, fine, fine. your mother did assist me through the phone.”

author’s notes: work’s been keeping me busy but i really needed to write this bc this has been in my mind for a bit too long <3

[yuurei20]

Jade and Floyd Facts Part 8: the Mountain Lovers Club

Jade is the founder and sole member of the Mountain Lovers Club.

He explains that hiking is not the club’s primary activity (“I’m not all that interested in exercising”).

He goes on leisurely walks through the mountains around the school.

He says the main goal of the club is “to appreciate the mountains’ bounty, while also enjoying its edible plants and mushrooms,” but he is reluctant to describe it as a photography, science or cooking club.

Jade says that one of the club’s most enjoyable activities is foraging for wild plants and mushrooms, but he finds himself wishing he had better techniques and recipes to make the most of what he gathers, which is why he participates in the Culinary Crucible.

In a vignette we learn that Jade goes to the school’s ghost chefs to learn new recipes outside of the Culinary Crucible as well: Ruggie incorporates some of his wild vegetables in a soup for Leona, believing they belonged to the school.

In order to compensate Jade for the stolen ingredients Ruggie teaches him three recipes with which Jade is very pleased, asking Ruggie to teach him a few more (Ruggie: “Lesson two’s gonna cost you.”)

The Mountain Lovers Club also has a photography section as a part of the club’s exhibition for the culture fair, with Jade explaining that while he is sure that it must look mundane to land-dwellers, as a sea-dweller he finds it all fascinating. (In Floyd’s opinion Jade picks the most boring subjects for his photography. Jade reflects, “Maybe that’s why I’m the only member of the club.”)

Despite admitting that he enjoys the mundane as someone who was not born on land, Jade says that while he has heard of wayward merfolk becoming obsessed with the surface, he can’t say that he understands why.

The Mountain Lovers Club counts as an arts club, which means (to Floyd’s annoyance) that Jade did not have to participate in helping to set up stages for the school’s culture fair.

During Vargas Camp, however, Floyd says that Jade “whined nonstop about how the Mountain Lovers Club should totally count as a sports club.”

When asked where he would go if he was able to travel anywhere he wanted by broom, Jade says he would like to visit famous mountains and view places that people are not allowed to hike to on foot to from above.

He says he would like to spend an entire day appreciating the beauty of the scenery through different weather and different times of day, taking photos and sketching.

As a part of his Mountain Lovers Club activities Jade says that he has started doing field sketches and he once became so focused on sketching during a class that everyone left the laboratory without his noticing.

While Jade’s parents seem to encourage his interest in mountains (they gift him with a hiking backpack that he’d asked for on his birthday) Floyd and Azul do not, with Floyd complaining that Jade smells earthy all the time and Azul commiserating with “It can’t be easy having a brother in that weirdo Mountain Lovers Club.”

Jade volunteers to go to Epel’s hometown of Harveston after eavesdropping on his conversation about a sledathon, explaining that he wishes to see the “mystical beauty” that is a local mountain.

Even Epel says that Jade is a mountain expert, and he is able to effortlessly identify plants he sees at a market and list off their scientific names. (Idia: “He’s so obsessed it’s cringey.”)

Jade suggests naming their sled team “the Mountain Lovers Sled Team,” but he is outvoted.

[nyoomiin]

roommates: part six.

your new roommate is... odd, and recently, so are your dreams. still, despite the secrecy, the mystery, and his ice cold exterior, you have the feeling you'd waltz right into love with him. (maybe you already have before.)

pairing. scaramouche x gn!reader

tags. no warnings, slice of life, fluff, slowburn, friends to lovers, reincarnation au, post irminsul erasure

prev. masterlist. next.

“Thank you so much,” you tell the Traveller gratefully. “Wait! Before you go — I made the both of you something.”

They're keychains, you show them, both crocheted by yours truly. One, the sword the Traveller wielded, and the other, the crown Paimon donned. You had made them during the spare time you had whilst waiting for the materials to make Kunikuzushi's clothes.

“Aw! You didn't have to,” Paimon squeals. “They're adorable! Thank you!”

You laugh, handing them over to her. “It's really more of a bribe — I hope you'll come and find me at my shop if your clothes ever need mending or anything.”

“Sure thing! We'll definitely come see you if we have the time!” Paimon promises earnestly.

“Well, I won't keep you anymore. Again, thanks for completing my commision, Mr. Traveller and Paimon!”

“Aether is fine,” he says kindly, and goddamned if he didn't have a pretty voice. His name was pretty too. Aether.

Still, you think to yourself, Kunikuzushi’s just might be prettier.

You must have made it in life.

You've finally gotten your roommate to sit the fuck down and eat dinner with you. And it only took a month and three days. Homemade soup was on the menu today, potatoes and carrots and corn and chicken, just how your grandmother used to make for you. Honestly, soup was the only dish you could cook well.

“How is it?” you ask eagerly, making a show of batting your eyelashes at him and grinning. “I'm quite proud of that recipe.”

He hums, sampling a spoonful. “It’s… edible.”

As if it wasn't the best thing he's had in his life. You harrumph. “Whatever you say.”

Later, when you're cleaning up, and when all has been said and done, you'll realise he's finished two whole bowls and not a drop less. But for now, you're only curious about many, many things.

“Are you from Inazuma?” you ask. “You look like an Inazuman. Your name sounds like it too!”

He looks up at you, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. “I am.”

“That's so cool! Why'd you move?”

“Just… something I had to accomplish. Eh, well, it didn't work out — but it's all water under the bridge now,” he says casually, but with the way his eyes darken and the way he glances away, you know you've touched a nerve. You’ve become rather adept at reading his moods in the recent weeks of badgering him daily.

You change the topic quickly. “That's a shame. I'm glad you stayed, though, or else I'd never have befriended you! But can you speak Inazuman?”

“Of course I can,” he scoffs, puffing up haughtily. “Who do you take me for?”

“Jeez, I never said you couldn't.”

“You implied it,” he retorts pettily.

You click your tongue, the words spilling out faster than your brain could process them. “Then what does ‘Kabukimono’ mean?”

He goes silent, and you smirk, victorious. Of course he wouldn't know what it meant — you had come up with it in a dream, after all. That would show his cocky ass. Except… the expression on his face is odd. He stares at you, horrified and disbelieving and everything in between.

Then, it's gone.

He snorts. “What kind of stupid word is that?”

“I thought of it in a dream,” you say matter-of-factly.

“Only you'd be that senseless,” he snipes. At your offended gasp, he softens minutely. “It means oddly dressed, or insane. Take your pick.”

Then he stands, announcing that talking to you made his head hurt and leaving for his room. You sigh. You wonder if he’s always going to storm off if you mention something he didn't like. Still…

Oddly dressed, or insane, huh?

(His heart is loud — roaring in his ears.

Gods, he hadn't desperately wished for a heart only for it to be such a nuisance.

You shouldn't know that name. How did you ever learn that name? From a dream? There had never been any record of a Kabukimono after him — and all traces of him had already been erased. It couldn't be a mere coincidence. Nothing was ever just a coincidence with him.

That shitty god…

What the fuck did she do?)

taglist. (send an ask to be added.)

@franaby @dragontammerz @ainnofinway @sketcheeee @briluvspnk @bunniicantsleep @featuredtofu @tragedy-of-commons @parkjayssi @xiaosantenna @idontevenknow129 @bfajax @mostlymoth

[anexistingexistence]

Describing Redacted characters in one sentence or less (brackets don't count) but it gets progressively less comprehensive:

David: Big werewolf alpha dude (not the cringe kind)

Milo: Smol werewolf dude (the big kind)

Damien: Hot tsundere (literally)

Morgan: Non-existent

Guy: A heart-shaped pizza with all your favorite toppings that you can top yourself if you want-

Nick: Cat boi (definitely the cringe kind)

Ollie: Comfort food

Blake: Cold soup

Gavin: The reason I cry myself to sleep once a week

James: Needs to go tf home.

Asher: The canonical energizer bunny

Lasko: Me

Huxley: Me on anxiety meds

Caelum: Cotton candy given human form.

Anton: A testament to Erik's voice acting and general acting skills.

Marcus: Very killable.

Kody: Looks like great cake but actually went bad five months ago.

Elliott: Had an edible for breakfast and hasn't eaten since.

Hudson: Trying to eat serotonin with chopsticks.

Brachium: An edible pretending to be a gummy worm.

Vincent: Talks like what perfume tastes like.

Ivan: Saltwater in your eyes but it might just be your tears and you honestly don't even care at this point.

Aaron: Sand in your mouth and between your teeth but you're enjoying it.

Sam: If blankets could talk, they'd sound and speak like him.

Eric: That feeling you get when looking at an empty closet.

Camelopardalis: Anxiety meds in the form of a flesh prison.

Avior: If you unhinged your jaw, you could eat him.

Vega: You can drink him with a straw (and only with a straw).

Hush: You can eat him.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Act 4 Prologue (Azel Radwan)

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

At the same time, in Tanzanite--

The throne room located on the palace's top floor was filled with the joy and excitement of the people.

Amongst the clamor surrounding the night, the immense full moon enveloped the people as if protecting them.

Azel: "Silence."

With just one word from the deity atop the throne, the people immediately fell silent, looking up at the god with awe.

His mystical eyes, filled with stars that seemed to belong to the night sky rather than a human, scanned the people with compassion.

Azel: "The divinations have revealed your fate. Under the divine will, you need to formulate a policy as soon as possible."

Azel: "It's up to you whether you want to utilize or disregard the mercy of the gods. Just don't disappoint me, for the heavenly moon is always watching over you."

As the current deity rose, the people who seemed lost in a daydream all kneeled and bowed their heads simultaneously.

Among them was a man wearing a crown.

King of Tanzanite: "We've prepared a banquet for you. Please, do join us."

Azel: "I appreciate the offer, but with a God present, you may find it impossible to indulge in wine."

Azel: "I shall take my leave, so do not concern yourselves. Ah, and a farewell is unnecessary. I dislike unnecessary fuss."

Azel: "Well, then, have a good night. May the divine grace be upon all the people."

As the fervor waned, the natural tranquility of the night returned.

The deity, walking with resolute steps, suddenly halted when a woman, a dancer, blocked his path.

Woman: "Greetings, esteemed deity."

Azel: "I've just said that your concerns are unnecessary."

The woman held a variety of banquet dishes, their enticing aroma filling the hallway.

Woman: "I apologize for misunderstanding the divine will. However, I thought perhaps you might not attend the feast tonight."

Woman: "This is a modest offering from me. If you would be so kind, may I serve you?"

Azel: "I appreciate your dedication. However, it's unnecessary."

Azel: "I'm in a hurry, so could you please step aside?"

Woman: "Please don't say that. After the lengthy divination, I'm sure you must be hungry."

Azel: "No, it's fine."

A rumble suddenly came from his stomach, momentarily disrupting the sanctity.

Azel: "Anyway, it's okay. Leave me be and go to the feast."

Woman: "Please wait!"

The woman attempted to block his path again as he tried to move forward forcefully.

Azel: "Ah, these clueless folks who just don't get it, no matter what you tell them."

Unaware of his muttered words, the woman stumbled over his foot while trying to approach and fell to the floor along with the dishes.

He looked down at the scattered food and the groaning woman without even offering a hand.

Azel: "Poor thing."

Woman: "Esteemed deity?"

Azel: "I feel sorry for the food that was wasted."

Despite smiling gently, his mysterious eyes seemed completely unconcerned about the events that had taken place.

Azel: "Lick it up."

Woman: "Eh?"

Azel: "It would be a pity if the food went to waste, wouldn't it?"

Azel: "Look, this soup still looks edible."

Azel: "If you crawl like a dog and lick it up, it won't be wasted."

Woman: "What are you…?"

Azel: "Of course, I'm a kind god, so I won't force you to do anything."

Azel: "You're free to follow or defy God's will."

Woman: "........."

Her hesitation lasted only a moment.

She lowered her face to the floor and began licking the spilled soup with her tongue.

As she repeated this several times, something suddenly happened.

The woman's skin gradually flushed, emitting a scent suitable for the night, and her heated gaze met his impassive expression.

Azel: "So you really did slip in an aphrodisiac. Your fortune for today seems to be very unlucky, doesn't it?"

Azel: "Ah, no. Perhaps it's actually very fortunate."

Azel: "Since your beloved god didn't taste it."

Woman: "Please have mercy."

He turned his back, keeping his distance from the woman who reached out to him.

Azel: "Feel free to please yourself all you want. Well then, I'll take my leave."

Azel: "It's already past my working hours, and working overtime is just out of the question."

Woman: "I like you! I'd do anything for you!"

Woman: "Would it be a sin for me to love you?"

Azel: "Let me tell you one thing."

Azel: "Gods don't love people because love is worthless."

Azel: "If you are willing to give me a fortune equivalent to Prince Silvio's, then I might consider it."

Azel: "But if not, it's unpleasant to even have you in my sight."

Woman: "........."

Azel: "Since it looks like you're not getting what I'm saying, let me make it clear."

Azel: "It's time for you to disappear. Get out of my sight, slut."

Woman: "Eeek!"

As if it were all a dream, his face lost all compassion.

With a coldness rivaling that of the desert night, he stared at the woman as if she were a bug.

Azel: "Your feelings are neither love nor anything of the sort. It was just the prattle of a depraved slut drowning in filthy desires."

This time, there was no one to stop his stride.

The god laughed and smiled under the divine glow of the full moon, devoid of mercy or compassion.

Azel: "This nation under the protection of gods is still living in a happy dream."

Azel: "Even though the day when this eternal dream shatters is approaching, I wonder if I'll ever be able to laugh at it."

☆ Ikepri Masterlist

[sluttywoozi]

For Worse Or For Better Part Three

Summary: Wonwoo's got a big question to ask his wife.

Rating: M (18+ MDNI) | Word Count: ~3.5k

Part One | Part Two | Alternate Part Two

Warnings/Notes: fem reader, set six months after part two, not as edited as normal, food cooking and eating, fingering, clit stim, piv sex, bulge kink, breeding kink (no impreg), lmk if i forgot anything

Wonwoo can feel your eyes on him from where you stand in the kitchen. He’d just come out of the shower and attempted to help you with dinner, but you (gently) swatted his hand away from the seasoning rack with a wooden spoon before he could touch anything. So, he accepted his exile and took a seat on the couch. 

From here, he can’t watch you cook unless he turns his head, which is probably for the best.

Something about seeing you dance around the kitchen, singing over the soup and shaking your ass when you thought he wasn’t looking, always got him going. Maybe it’s because that was the start of him falling for you, maybe it’s the way your ass looks in those tiny shorts, maybe it’s how your singing voice kinda sounds like your sex voice. 

And the way you move throughout the whole process? It's like a dance, and your timing is always perfect. 

Just now, you’d made it to the fridge and back in fifteen seconds, grabbing exactly what you needed without a second glance and returning just in time to turn the soup down as it came to a boil. 

Wonwoo doesn’t know why exactly but it does something to him. 

You’re just so natural when you cook; you always know exactly what you’re doing, even without a recipe. 

Especially without a recipe, he thinks. You’re much more confident when you get to decide what goes in and how and when. He’d learned that with the first (and only) Hello Fresh meal box he ordered for you. You’d read over the recipe at least fifteen times and made yourself too nervous to even start. 

Wonwoo canceled the subscription that night and brought the box of ingredients over to Seokmin’s the next day. He’d returned with a gift card to your favorite italian market and all was right in the world. 

He’s pulled from his thoughts when you bounce down onto the couch and throw your legs onto his lap, Mr. Mittens and Queen Bea immediately jumping up to lay on your stomach. His hands move instinctively to hold you, thumb rubbing over your ankle and ears red like a stoplight. 

“Soup just needs to simmer for ten minutes,” you explain, letting yourself fall to your back on the couch, your eyelids fluttering shut. Your breathing gets a bit deeper, not enough for him to think you’re sleeping, just enough for him to know you lied about not being tired. 

Wonwoo’s never more frustrated at his absolute ineptitude in the kitchen than times like these. He wishes he could cook for you, wishes he could care for you in this way, wishes he could take some of the load off. But it’s truly a disaster every time, and whenever he tries, the both of you end up tired and starving. 

He hasn’t told you, wanting to preserve the surprise, but he’s been secretly taking cooking classes for weeks at a local test kitchen. It was daunting at first, being in a kitchen without you around, but he pushed through and recently, he’s even gotten kind of… okay at it? The dishes he makes (under the chef’s careful supervision) are edible and even, dare he say, enjoyable sometimes. 

Wonwoo’s not ready for you to know though, needs to perfect your favorite meal first, and he hopes he’ll have it down by your birthday. It’ll be the first you’ve ever shared with him, and nearly a year to the day since he’d met you and married you, and he wants it to be special. He has a lot of plans for that night, plans that include an engagement ring and two tickets to Paris, and it all needs to be perfect. 

For now, he’ll just trace your soft skin with his fingers and eat your delicious food and make sure the kitchen is spotless after every meal. 

You’ll be home from class soon, and Wonwoo’s a whirlwind of anxiety and speed as he flits around the kitchen, checking temperatures and stirring sauces and lighting candles. The table is already set, your wine glass adorned with a charm and the ring he’d painstakingly picked out, and Wonwoo’s trying to pretend he’s not about to have a cardiac event while he waits for you. 

Everything’s done, and as perfect as he can possibly make it, and he hears the key turn in the lock just as he’s setting the main dish down on the table. 

You look beautiful, sighing as you hang your keys on the shelf and shed your coat, your pumps kicked off immediately and your hands reaching up the back of your shirt to undo your bra. You remove it somehow, an ability Wonwoo has always marveled at, and tiredly make your way down the hallway towards him, stopping short when you see the dining table and Wonwoo standing nervously next to it. 

He’d changed into a different suit, the one he wore to the company gala that had changed everything, and you tear up before you even catch sight of the wine glass held in his hand. 

You float to him, walking your way straight into his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist, and, hugging you back with his free arm, he presses a kiss to the side of your head and whispers, "Hi baby, happy birthday."

Queen Bea yells a meow, weaving through your feet and rubbing up against you until you break away from Wonwoo and lean down to pick her up, scritching her under the chin and letting her jump from your arms when she starts wriggling away. 

You sigh, “Thanks, honey,” and faceplant into his chest again, and Wonwoo worries you won’t be up for a dinner like he’s got planned tonight. He’d be a bit disappointed but he just wants to make you happy, so if you decide to throw your jammies on and watch White Collar for the fifth time, he’ll support you. 

“You look so handsome and you smell so good and I love you so much, let me go put my dress on, I’ll be right back,” you mumble into his pecs, and he releases you and watches with fondness as you stumble to the bedroom. 

You emerge with tired eyes and messy hair, clad in the silk dress you’d worn that night, and Wonwoo doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone prettier in his life. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you take the wineglass and swallow a big gulp with a hum, barely noticing the clinking of the ring against the base of the glass. 

He’ll let you see it on your own time and pulls out your chair, gently pushing it back in once you sit and lay the napkin down on your lap. Your eyes rove over all of the steaming plates and dishes, growing wide when you look around and don’t see any takeout containers. 

“Where’d all this come from, babe?” you ask, confusion quirking your brow though you pick up the fork as Wonwoo serves you. 

He bites his lips before answering excitedly, “I made it!”

You pause with a bite inches from your lips, your mouth open and your eyes caught on him. Eyeing your fork pensively, you observe the way he’s nearly vibrating in his chair and slowly place the fork in your mouth, keeping your gaze on him as you chew. Your eyes narrow, your brows furrowing, and Wonwoo feels his heart drop into his stomach. Fuck, you hate it, it’s awful, he’s poisoned you, he’s poisoned his wi-

“What the fuck, Wonwoo, this is fucking delicious!” you breathe, still glaring at him as you bring another bite to your mouth, chewing suspiciously. 

He feels like he could fly, but also like he could sweep all his work off this table and fuck you stupid on it, so he settles for beaming and saying, “I’ve been taking classes, I wanted to surprise you for your birthday! Do you like it?”  

You lay a hand on his arm and swallow with a dreamy sigh before responding, “Wonwoo, I love it, I would kiss you if my mouth wasn’t so busy.”

He smiles his most pleased smile and dances in his chair, serving himself and letting out a low woah when he tastes the food he’d made. 

Of course Wonwoo tasted it while he was cooking, but the end result is so much better than he expected and now he knows why you were suspicious. It is good, and he makes a mental note to send flowers both to the chef who taught the classes and to Mingyu for recommending them. 

You take a sip of wine, the ring still unnoticed, and Wonwoo starts to feel a bit antsy. He’s not sure how to draw attention to the charm without being completely obvious, and he wants to know what you’ll say! Based on the past six months, he’s fairly sure you’ll say yes but there’s always the chance you won’t.

Wonwoo thinks he’d be able to bear it if you said no (lie). 

You chat about your day through bites of food and hums, trying a bit of each dish and complimenting every one, finishing off your wine and holding your glass out for more when he offers. It must have been a tough lecture today, and Wonwoo remembers that you had a meeting with your thesis advisor too, and asks how it all had gone. 

You groan, your head tipping back before you tell him that you’re on track to graduate but that you’ll need to rework your thesis a bit and you’re dreading finding more sources. He can’t do much to help besides offering you his hand and promising to go to the library with you whenever he can, but that seems to be enough and you relax with a squeeze of your fingers around his. 

You’re on your third glass and Wonwoo’s on his second, the both of you delightfully tipsy as you finish up dinner. He figures it you haven’t seen the ring yet, tonight’s not the night, and rises to start clearing the table. 

You stand to help, pulling the strap of your dress back up when it slips and following him to the kitchen with all the dishes you can carry, wine glass held in the crook of your arm. 

You pack away the leftovers while Wonwoo sheds his jacket and rolls up his sleeves, donning the dishwashing gloves before starting to wash up. He can feel your fond gaze on him and soon enough, your hands wind around his stomach and your body presses to his back in a hug. He squeezes your arms with his elbows and carries on with the washing, moving with you when you start to sway to the music you’d turned on. 

Wonwoo’s still in disbelief a bit that he gets to be so domestic with you after six months of dreaming about it, of you cooking alone and him washing the dishes alone, of not being able to touch you or love you out loud, and suddenly, he’s desperate for you to see the ring, so he asks, “Can you take the charm off of your glass? I can’t with the gloves.”

You hum and let go of his abdomen, trailing a hand around his waist as you move to his side and take the wine glass carefully. You blink sleepily as you bring it closer to your face, freezing when you catch sight of what’s attached to the charm. 

“Wonwoo… is this-,” you begin slowly, too slowly for Wonwoo, and he interrupts you, “It’s a ring. An engagement ring. I know we did the married part already but I- I never actually got to ask you.”

Your lip quivers, your eyebrows screwing up as your watery eyes meet his, your hand clutching the glass so tightly he fears the stem will break. With shaky fingers you remove the charm and hand him the ring, the metal cool in his palm and the tile hard under his knee as he kneels and looks up at you. 

You’re already holding out your hand, bouncing on the balls of your feet and beaming tearily at him, and Wonwoo takes a deep breath before whispering, “Baby, I love you more than anything. Will you please stay married to me?” 

You shriek a giggle and wiggle your fingers, inching closer to him as you nearly shout, “Yesyesyesyesyes, Wonwoo, yes!” 

The laugh bubbles up out of his chest along with all of the stress and fear he’d felt leading up to this moment, and he slides the ring on your fourth finger with confidence, catching you when you drop down and straddle his knee. Your hands fly to cup his face and pull him into a deep kiss, your tongue swiping along his bottom lip and sliding inside his mouth when he opens for you with a groan, clumsily setting his glasses on the counter and shifting so he can sit cross legged on the floor and tug you into his lap. 

Wonwoo can already feel his dick swelling in his dress pants, the zipper pressing uncomfortably against his hardening length when you grind down. He doesn’t mind, your heat is enough to distract him and he realizes he can feel it, feel your wetness starting to seep into the material, and slides his hand up your thigh to cup you, his palm meeting your bare pussy. 

“Fuck, have you been naked under this dress the whole time?” he breathes on a moan, two fingers sinking inside you with ease and his thumb starting to glide over your clit when you nod with a smirk. 

You’re so warm and fucking soaking wet already, and Wonwoo’s so obsessed with you, so lucky to be your husband, so ecstatic you want to keep being married to him, and he’s not sure he can wait. He wants to be inside you right now, needs to feel your heat wrapped around him, needs to be close to you, so he slides another finger inside and spreads them, rubbing insistent circles around your clit with his thumb until you cry out and your walls start to flutter around his digits. 

Wonwoo fucks you with his fingers through your orgasm, thrusting in and out of your clenching pussy and pushing through the tightness when you squeeze down harder, his fingertips hooking into your g-spot and drawing the pleasure out. 

You’re whining, shaking under his touch, and he tugs at one tie on your shoulder until the bow comes loose and your dress dips to expose your breasts, dropping his head to wrap his lips around a nipple and start working you up to a second climax. It’s easy, always easy after the first and with just a few more curls of his fingers and a bit more pressure on your clit, you’re pulsing around him again, whining into his neck and jerking your hips into his hand. 

Your hands shoot down to undo his pants, pulling his cock out and shoving your dress up enough to line him up and sink down, your pussy swallowing his whole cock in one swift motion. 

It normally takes Wonwoo a bit longer to work his way inside you and the molten velvet that suddenly surrounds him has his head spinning, lost in you and the heat of your cunt. You start moving immediately, hips swiveling and breasts bouncing and Wonwoo leans back, braces himself on one hand and pulls you closer to his chest with the other, holding you to him as he starts fucking into you harshly. He bottoms out with each thrust, your pussy so slick that wetness splatters his cloth covered thighs every time he drives himself into you and your head tips back, your plush lips opening on a long moan, your voice wavering with the rhythm of his hips. Fuck, you’re so-

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby, my pretty little wife, shit,” Wonwoo groans, his chest rumbling against yours and he really wishes he could feel your warm body against his, feel your nipples dragging against his skin, feel your soft breasts pressing into pecs, and he tries desperately to unbutton his shirt but finds his fingers aren’t working. He’s almost frantic with the desire to feel you, fingertips scrabbling at the buttons before he gives up, grunts a fuck it, and rips his dress shirt open and off, pings echoing around the kitchen as the buttons fly against the cabinets.  

You moan and tighten around him, your pussy clamping down, sucking his cock deeper, and Wonwoo just can’t get close enough so he wraps both arms around you and shifts forward until he can fuck you into the tile, tattered cotton shoved underneath you so your bare back doesn’t touch. 

He lifts your legs into the crooks of his arms and bends over you, folding you in half and placing his palms by your shoulders, thighs nearly straddling yours as he drives his hips into you. Wonwoo’s face is inches from yours like this, and he can watch every flutter of your eyelashes, every quiver of your lips, every twitch of your brow while he fucks you. 

Your arms weakly twine around his neck and you cry out with every thrust, the noise punched out of you by his cock and when his stomach presses flat to yours, he swears he can feel something bumping against him. There’s not enough space in his brain to think too much about it, his mind reeling with every sound you make, every expression that crosses your face, every clench of your perfect pussy around his throbbing cock. 

On the next dig of his cock into you, Wonwoo angles his hips up just a bit and feels that bumping again, realizes it’s his fucking dick he can feel through the muscle and fat of your tummy, and thank fuck you’re cumming because he is too, his cock jumping and swelling and flooding you with searing hot cum. Your walls pulsate around him, milking his dick of every drop until it coats the base in a ring of white, his still hard length plugging you up and keeping the rest inside you even as your tight cunt tries to push him out. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your mouth stuck open in a silent scream, and when he roots his cock deep inside of you one last time, you suck in a wet gasp and flutter your damp lashes open to look up at him. 

Wonwoo returns your gaze, his eyes half lidded and his face slack with pleasure, lungs expanding and contracting rapidly against yours as he tries to catch his breath. You send him a sleepy smile and crane your neck up to peck his nose, making him chuckle and press his forehead into your sternum, sighing at the feeling of your fingers running through his hair and scratching at his scalp. He could fall asleep like this, wants to, but he’s still got you twisted up like a pretzel and you must be getting uncomfortable by now so he pulls back slowly, releasing your legs and rubbing over your thighs as he starts to withdraw his cock from you.

Your hands shoot down to his hips and drag them back into you, and Wonwoo looks up in question and concern just before you whine, “It’ll be so messy,” with a pout. 

You’re right, and Wonwoo knows neither of you will want to clean cum off of marble, so he scoops your hips up into his lap and tugs the shirt down to lay under your ass, setting you down and gently pulling out, his cum dribbling out of you and onto the cotton. 

He shakily helps you up, his knees not much stronger than yours, and lets you stumble off to start the shower while he cleans and disinfects the floor. 

Gasping when he realizes he still hadn’t told you about the tickets to Paris, or the month-long trip around Europe he’s got planned for your graduation, Wonwoo speeds to the bedroom to place the tickets on top of the pajamas you’d set out. 

He heads to the bathroom and catches sight of you through the fogged up glass doors. You’re wearing nothing but your wedding and engagement rings, and Wonwoo’s eyes slide down your body with the suds, loving gaze lingering on all his favorite spots. He watches you as he strips absentmindedly, awed that he gets to have this, have you, every day. 

And now that you’ve said yes, he gets to have you for the rest of his life, too. 

AN: Okieeee im gonna take a lil break to deal with some things and hopefully come back with chapters of it's nice to have a friend and part three of like a cowboy

i might check tumblr periodically but i won't be around much, please be kind to me in the meantime!

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[steddieas-shegoes]

“You have to keep stirring until it’s thin, like soup.”

Steve had said this four times.

Eddie wanted a divorce.

They weren’t legally married, but he’d like to find a way to end it before it began.

“I’ve been stirring it for six minutes. It’s not getting thinner.”

“That’s impossible. Let me try.”

Steve was the chef. Eddie knew it, Steve knew it, everyone knew it. He was good at cooking. Not just following recipes, but actually throwing together ingredients from scratch and making something not only edible, but delicious.

But Steve was going away for a week with Robin. Something about a long overdue road trip that they were supposed to take before she went to college.

Eddie had every intention of just living off of takeout and the sympathy of Joyce and Claudia while he was gone, but Steve insisted that he had to know how to at least make a few things.

Steve seemed to think he could make a glaze for the baked chicken currently in the oven. The same baked chicken he’d almost burned because he thought he could put it in on broil instead of baked. He was really THAT hopeless.

But Steve was determined and when Steve was like this, he had no choice but to go along with it.

Steve was stirring, frown becoming more prominent the longer he tried.

“Something isn’t right. Did you put the lemon juice in?”

“You watched me put it in.”

“And the jelly was completely cooked down before you turned down the heat?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Steve.” Eddie placed his hands on Steve’s shoulders from behind him, shaking him slightly. “I can just eat pizza. Or sandwiches. Cereal. Joyce is having me over for spaghetti one night, I’m sure there will be leftovers. I won’t starve.”

“But you need to know how to take care of yourself!”

Warning sirens were going off in Eddie’s head. He’d been alone for a couple of days before and everything was fine. He’d made some macaroni, ate his weight in toast, it was great. He survived.

He even ate an apple!

So he could do it if he had to.

“What’s going on in that head, big boy?”

“Nothing. It’s just that Wayne didn’t have time to show you this stuff and you need to know.”

“I can make it a week, Stevie.”

“What if you have to make it longer?”

“Are you planning on running away? Going into hiding?”

He could tell Steve was rolling his eyes without even seeing his face.

“No. But what if I’m not always around?”

Eddie’s gut clenched. Steve must be sick. Or maybe he has a feeling that somehow the Upside Down is open and ready to ruin their lives again.

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

“I mean anything can happen. What if we get in an accident and I don’t make it?”

“Woah.” Eddie turned Steve around and held onto his hips, fingers probably leaving bruises on his skin. “Where is this coming from?”

Steve shrugged and looked down at the floor.

“Robin has anxiety about it doesn’t she?”

Steve nodded.

Ah.

Robin didn’t intentionally shove her anxieties onto Steve, and she didn’t realize he felt them so strongly when she did. She was a worrier, always thinking about the worst case scenario and then somehow making it worse in her mind.

Eddie didn’t really let it bother him until it affected Steve.

“Sweetheart, nothings gonna happen. You’ve changed the oil and checked the tires. You’ve packed every possible thing you could need in any emergency. You have a cup of change for pay phones if you need to use them. You’ve got every stop picked out and we’ll know where you are the whole time.”

“But none of that helps if I’m in an accident.”

“No. You’re right. It doesn’t. But what are the odds of that happening really?”

Steve was silent.

Eddie cupped his face between his palms, leaning forward to kiss him gently.

“It’s okay to be nervous, Stevie. But you don’t have to worry about that. I can take care of myself without having to know how to make a glaze for a baked chicken. Do you really think I’m gonna waste an hour of my evening making this decadent dinner for myself? Or do you think I’ll make a sandwich and eat a bag of chips while I read a book?”

“I know.”

“I know you know. So let’s just trash the glaze, dip the chicken in some ketchup, and fuck around until we fall asleep. I’m gonna miss you for a whole week.”

Eddie’s hands slid around him to cup Steve’s ass and give it a squeeze. Steve smirked up at him as he let himself fall into Eddie.

“We could just go right to dessert?”

“Are you the dessert or am I?”

“I’m the cake and you’re the ice cream.”

“We better hurry then before the ice cream melts.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve laughed as Eddie pulled him from the kitchen to the stairs.

“I’m hungry, let’s go!”