#like i just want a shrimp chip have mercy

[jjuneviere]

why does literally every bag in existence have the cut here line in the wrong place

[caiuscassiuss]

Birched⎮D. Sicheng (M) P.2

Description: There was something that lurked beneath that pretty boy smile of Dong Sicheng— something dark, something dangerous… something you knew you would get pulled into once you got too curious. (Or, your ill-tempered coworker turns out to be your dominant.)

Part One is HERE 

Genre: BDSM/ enemies to lovers winwin! smut | romance | angst WC: 11k+ Warnings: graphic smut (dom! sicheng + sub! reader, BDSM (Bondage, Dominance, Submission, and Masochism) choking, rough sex), taboo relationship, blatant sexism, TW: mentions of an abusive relationship

(A/N: Thank you to my amazing beta @won-markiepooh-woo​ for helping me. This wouldn’t have been possible without you!)

Saturday February 1st, 2020

Y/N’s Apartment

10 AM HKT

The little jingle of a FaceTime call echoed through your silent apartment, and you snuggled into the sheets of your bed.

“Hello? Kun huang?”

A flash black hair and a sweet smile appeared within the view of the camera.

“Huang Gua!” you exclaimed.

Instantly, the happy smile slipped off his face and transformed into an annoyed expression.

“Can you not? We’ve been over this,” he complained.

“Oh come on! It’s so funny,” you jibed.

“It’s not.”

“You only used to eat cucumbers for years. You earned that name yourself.”

“So?” he snorted. “You used to eat shrimp chips as a kid. I don’t call you shrimp, do I?” A devious expression flashed over his face.

“Kun Huang…” you warned.

“Maybe I should start now. Right, shrimp?”

“Oh my god, stop!”

“No, shrimp. I can keep going, you know.”

“Okay, fine, fine. I submit!” You laughed.

He chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”

“So how are you now, Hendery? How’s your mom and dad? Oh my gosh, Hengwai!”

“I’m doing fine, as are mom and dad. Hengwai misses her little sister. They all want you to call them more. Sometimes I think they miss you more than me.” He pouted.

“Awww, poor baby. But give them my well wishes too! I miss everyone so much,” you said. For some reason, tears welled in your eyes.

Obviously, Hendery could tell you were about to start crying and started to panic.

“Y/N? Talk to me. Oh, you know I can’t take it if you start crying!”

He never really could. Even after many years spent together in your childhood, he was still awkward as hell around your tears.

You waved him off, swiping the tears. “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just so lonely around here.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m fine! I swear!”

“Literally, one word and I’m on a flight to Hong Kong. I’m not playing,” he said gravely.

“Hendery, no. Besides, don’t you have some farms to run? I would never expect you to do that.”

“One word, Y/N. Just one.” He looked you dead in the eye. 

You looked away. “Anyways, how are your farms going?”

A smile split his face and his eyes sparked. “Guess who just got their hundredth farm?”

Your jaw dropped. “No way, you’re fucking joking! One hundred?! I’m so proud of you! Kun Huang!” you squealed.

“Yeah, I know right? It’s so weird knowing so many people depend on me for their livelihoods now. I get sort of scared when I sit back and think about it…”

As Kun Huang went on about his day to day troubles in agriculture, a small, wistful smile played upon your lips. Why didn’t you just stay back and fall in love with Kun Huang? It would have been so easy. Being with Kun Huang was like breathing, and you could’ve spent the rest of your life like this. No Minghao, no BDSM, and most importantly, no… him.

Dolos.

Master?

Sicheng.

You hated how smoothly the puzzle pieces fit together. Sicheng always left early on Fridays, even though he always stayed late. At office parties, he lacked a significant other by his side, even when many would drop everything if he so much as winked at them.

It was hard not to think about him. You had started to feel an increase in your heartbeat whenever you thought of Dolos before Wednesday. You had originally wanted to know who was behind Dolos’ mask and if he returned those feelings. But, fuck, he would be so mad if he found out who you were.

Not to mention, how humiliating it would be if he knew. You had staked everything on being a cold-hearted bitch when Sicheng took particular pleasure in sneering at “the inherent submissiveness” of her gender. So if he found out Dove, who liked to be slapped during sex, and her, the la dame sans merci of the company, were the same person, it would destroy any chance of credibility you may have had in his eyes.

This was all one big mess. One big, gigantic and catastrophic mess. For so long you had rigorously kept your professional and personal lives apart, but the universe had conspired against you: to make the best dominant you ever had to also be your work nemesis.

Some higher being was laughing at you, you knew it.

Sunday February 2nd, 2020

The Dong Family Villa on the Shek O Peninsula, Hong Kong

1 PM HKT

A curl of disgust twisted his lips as he looked down on the lawn party going down below him. 

“Don’t you look happy, Sicheng.”

Sicheng acknowledged ChengCheng out of the corner of his eye and went back to glaring at the party in contempt.

“This is not how I wanted today to go.”

His childhood friend snorted and plopped himself down in a lawn chair, contemplating the blond haired man.

Sicheng spun around and picked up his glass of wine, downing the drink in one gulp. He settled himself next to ChengCheng with a frown.

“I just wanted to come here and fucking relax, but, no, my parents just had to use it for the fucking party. Fete. What-fucking-ever.” He exhaled loudly and ran his hands through his hair. 

Chengcheng looked over the balcony railing curiously. “Looks like a luncheon to me.”

“Fuck off.” 

“Christ, what’s up your ass?”

“Just some work stuff. It’s nothing.”

The brown-haired man frowned. “Then why aren’t you at Black’s then? Nothing can’t be resolved by a good fuck.”

At the mention of the club, a pained expression flashed over Sicheng’s face and his knuckles inadvertently tightened around the stem of his glass. The tension that had been in shoulders wounded itself up even more and this clued ChengCheng in.

Something other than work had Sicheng in knots. Very rarely did the blond man ever show he was angry—not even when his father lashed him as a child, nor when the family forced him to work for the company—so he was evidently very troubled by this ‘something’.

Sicheng’s phone rang and broke the silence. The man himself fished it out of his back pocket irritatedly.

“Excuse me for a moment, ChengCheng. I need to take this phone call.”

“Sicheng speaking,” he spoke as he stalked into the study.

“Hello sir, how are you—”

“Did you get the information or not?” Sicheng asked, cutting off the family’s retainer. His leg bounced, as he sat against the desk and he ran a weary hand through his hair.

“A-ah, unfortunately, Black’s doesn’t record pseudonyms digitally or on paper…”

“Fuck!” Sicheng yelled. Mr. Lau just had to be fucking careful, he thought irritably.

“... However, sir, I was able to obtain a membership list since the club was digitally updating their monthly list. I then compared it to the list from the previous month and found several missing names, indicative of them terminating their membership. I have compiled a dossier of several females that match your description of Dove and forwarded it to you.” 

Sicheng quickly logged into his laptop, his blood rushing through his ears. The identity of the most perfect submissive he’s ever had could literally be sitting in his inbox right now.

With trembling fingers, he opened the attachment.

Wang Fang, age 25—

“Sir?”

The blond man glared at his phone. “Thank you for your service, Liu Wei. Goodbye.”

Wang Fang was a tall, spindly woman with a face like a horse. The policy of privacy by masks was kind to her at Black’s. However, the jaw was all wrong and he knew in his gut she was not his Dove.

He scrolled to the next page. Leila Williams, age 27—British expat, was absolutely gorgeous. But, even through the screen, she exuded an unshakable aura of self-assurance. A dominatrix, probably, so that excluded her from his search.

He went through 2 or 3 more documents; each one too plain or too ordinary to be Dove.

Y/N L/N, age XX.

Sicheng blinked rapidly, sagging into his office chair.

Y/N is—was—a member at Black’s?

The picture provided was the one from her LinkedIn profile: a professional headshot with a grey background. She was smiling tightly, coldly—just as she was in the office. The other image provided instantly tented his pants.

It was her, clearly on a night out. She was in attire that flattered her body and he could easily see himself running his hands over her. Y/N looked fucking fantastic with her unbound hair, so unlike her tight updos at the office. However, what drew his eyes was the most vibrant shade of red painted on her lips, which was parted slightly as she was laughing.

He recognized that lipstick. The same shade of firetruck red had been smeared across Dove’s cheeks many, many times. YSL Rouge Satin Lipstick—the one he told her he liked and she, like a good girl, had religiously worn.

Could that mean…?

Glancing at the side bar, he noticed there was one more page left in the dossier. Please let the next one be Dove…

His hopes were instantly deflated. Kwon Myunghee was too old and too artificial to be his gorgeous submissive.

With his heart in his throat, he scrolled back to Y/N’s page. Enlarging the picture of her laughing, he put a hand over her eyes and leaned back to observe.

Sicheng would be an absolute fool if he did not recognize that mouth. Red fuck me! lipstick on an equally fuckable mouth parted in pleasure, or screaming his name while strung up on a cross. He would be an absolute fool if he did not recognize that neck, covered in purple and red hickies or his fingermarks. An absolute damn fool.

Yet, at this moment, he would’ve given anything to be one.

He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Y/N was… Dove? And Dove… was Y/N?

So why did she leave? How did she end up at Black’s? Did she know? Did she end up there on purpose? Why—

Eventually, all the questions piled up in his head until he was left winded. Sicheng buried his head in his hands, pulling at his blond locks and breathing heavily. Something was bubbling in his chest and—

He started to laugh. He cackled, howled, at his shitstorm of misfortune, luck, and confusion until he was sprawled undignified on the Oriental carpet, staring up at the intricate wood carvings on the ceiling.

Monday February 3rd, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

6 PM HKT

Shutting the door to your office, you collapsed into your chair and massaged your temples.

Today was the day Mr. Lee had left the office, leaving his official resignation. The top sales officials (including an off-color, brooding Sicheng) gathered in his office to congratulate him and give him an official goodbye. What was supposed to be a quick meet-up turned into afternoon drinking when Mr. Lee pulled out the good liquor from a secret cabinet underneath his desk. You accepted a drink with a grimace, but Sicheng declined and remained uncharacteristically detached the entire time. Granted, you too were detached from the conversation, uncomfortable with the lewd retirement and mistress jeers spouted by the older sales officials as they steadily got drunker and less inhibited.

As the time ended and a consensus to leave had been reached, you thought you could escape and actually work... that was until Mr. Lee walked alongside you and stuck himself in the elevator with you.

The bastard had the audacity to grope your ass in the crowded elevator. You shivered, remembering the awful and grimy feeling as his hot breath whispered in your ear that he was available any time for a “catch-up”.

This day was a mess. You had a shit-ton of work to catch up due to that fucking meeting and you had been sexually harrassed; you were also anxious about the promotion and, on top of that, you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Sicheng.

Huffing, you ate some red-bean bread as you powered up your desktop. This was fucking ridiculous. You knew Sicheng had noticed your odd, reticent behavior around him and this skittishness was impeding your ability to work. Well, no better way to forget about your problems was to solve other ones at work.

For the next two hours, you slogged through work emails and analytics as the sun set over Kowloon Bay. Your hair had been unbound and your blazer had been messily thrown over the back of your chair as your work progressed. Since most of the office had left by now, you figured it was safe to relax in your office.

It was night time by the time you had finished your last project and you sat back in your chair, staring at the skyline. Was this how your life destined to be? At the top, surrounded by the comforts of life, but alone?

A knock sounded at the door, jolting you out of your thoughts.

Who the fuck would be at the office at 8 PM?

“Come in.”

You caught sight of a golden head of hair slipping inside of your office and you sighed. Of course, it was Sicheng.

He took a seat unbidden and stared at you with an indecipherable expression on his face. His eyes roamed the contours and curves of your features.

You arched an eyebrow. “Can I help you with anything, Sicheng? I’m about to leave the office.”

He fought with himself inwardly, his mouth opened and closed several times before he finally settled on what he wanted to say. “I’d like to ask a question.”

You adjusted yourself in the chair. “Feel free.”

From his blazer’s pocket, he pulled out an aged sheet of paper and slowly opened it, before setting it in front of you. Sicheng settled back in his chair and steepled his fingers over his lap, the lights of the Hong Kong skyline playing across his face and making his sharp features stand out.

“Do you recognize this?”

The blood literally froze in your veins as your eyes caught sight of your handwriting in the letter, along with the tear-stains that blotched the paper and the text. Your heartbeat rose to your throat and all you felt was the blood rushing in your ears.

“Y/N?” he prodded.

You gulped and straightened out your top, your fingers trembling as you did so.

“No, I don’t. W-who’s Dolos? Why does this concern me?” you lied, stumbling a bit.

He watched you, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed.

“Don’t lie to me, Dove.”

“I-Dove? My name is Y/N,” you replied shakily. Grabbing your purse, you hurriedly stuffed all your personal belongings in while avoiding catching his seething stare. “Excuse me, I’d really like to get home.”

His jaw clenched and his palm twitched as he saw you had no desire to come clean.

“Look at me.”

Unthinking, you ceased all movements, put your trembling hands in your lap and looked up at him. “Sir?”

Your eyes widened and you slapped a hand over your mouth; your eyes darted around the room in search for an escape. You felt akin to a caged animal as he grinned meanly, incongruous on his cherubic features.

“That’s what I thought.”

“No—”

“You thought you could get away with this? You thought you could fucking play me?!”

You were aghast at seeing Dolos and Sicheng finally merging together in front of your eyes, and the result was grotesquely beautiful. His grin slipped off his face and twisted into a malevolent sneer. The naked fire in Dolos' gaze was finally unveiled in Sicheng’s eyes and, for the first time, you could see who Sicheng really was.

“Answer me, Dove—Y/N! Fuck, I don’t even know who you are anymore!” Sicheng shouted, running his hands through his hair while he paced around your office.

You stared unblinkingly at the bookshelf at the corner of the room. Fuck, this was all your nightmares coming true. You were going to be ruined and he was going to laugh on and on now that he knew you and Dove were the same.

“It was never supposed to end up like this,” you whispered hoarsely, tears welling up underneath your lashes.

“How was it supposed to end, huh? Fuck, you strung me along for six months—half a fucking year—”

“I didn’t fucking know, you ass! I wouldn’t have touched you with a ten foot pole if I knew who you were!” you hissed.

He laughed harshly. “You did a hell of a lot more than touch me, Dove. But after you got your fix, you pretended that this never happened.”

“You would’ve done the same, so this never did happen. Walk out right now and this will have never happened and we can go back to our normal, spiteful dynamic—”

“You’re out of your fucking mind, if you think—”

“You don’t understand, Sicheng! Can’t you see I’ll be ruined by this? That we’ll both be ruined by this? I can’t afford that!”

“So you thought to just leave me? With just a fucking letter and nothing else?”

“I didn’t know, okay! I didn’t know what to do!”

“You lied to me, Y/N. Fucking lied to my face!”

“I had to! Because you and I were never supposed to find out!”

Sicheng moved to yell, but clamped his jaw shut. “You lying, cheating, slut,” he seethed.

Your mouth trembled for a moment at the sheer vitriol that sprouted from his lips, but you stood tall. “You know what? Maybe I am. But I can live with that if you’d just fucking let it go!”

“You think I’d be able to let go of this?!” He cupped your jaw roughly and pulled you into a hungry kiss.

It wasn’t a smooth kiss—not one with even a hint of finesse. Lips smashed into lips, with tongue and teeth grappling against each other as his hands bruised your wrists.

Your back hit your desk and he swept your belongings off the desk haphazardly, letting go of your chin to lift you onto the desk with no effort.

“Forget my tongue on your skin? Forget my hands in between your thighs?” he murmured between hungry dips of his tongue. “I’ll fucking show you.”

He kissed down your neck, stopping to nip at your collarbone, and left a trail of stinging lovebites all over your shoulders. Sicheng’s hips pinned you into the desk as he popped each button of your blouse, hurriedly ripping it to the side to leave more hickies upon your chest and breasts.

You moaned as he pushed the cups of your bra down, using his wicked tone to swipe complicated patterns but never once touching your tips. Finally, he nipped at them hard causing you to squeal embarrassingly.

“S-sicheng,” you whimpered, gripping his hair as he pushed up your skirt.

The blond man carelessly pulled your underwear aside and thrusted two fingers in.

“Fuck!” you gasped, as you buried your red face in the crook of his neck.

You couldn’t see it, but you knew he was smirking smugly so your hands drifted down to his tented trousers and gripped his erection hard.

“You wanna fucking play? Let’s play, baby,” he grunted and hastily unbuckled his belt. His glorious cock sprung up in the space between your thighs.

Sicheng pushed your back down onto the desk, leaving him to tower over you. Without warning, he roughly pushed his cock into your slit.

You both groaned at the pleasurable friction. Fuck, how could you forget this? His length stretching you out deliciously? His broad shoulders heaving in exertion?

He bottomed out slowly, stilling as his hips pressed into yours. A sly smile glanced over his face as his hand drifted over your neck.

“Sicheng! You asshole, fucking move!” you said to him, thrusting your own hips weakly for effect.

His devilish smile split his angelic features, and he shook his head. “Wrong name, Dove.”

His hips pushed into yours roughly and you whined, scratching at the edges of your desk. Sicheng withdrew just as quickly and thrusted in again, watching the lust ripple upon your expression. He had missed the way your left eyebrow ticked when he brushed against your G-Spot, your nose scrunching as you clasped his shoulders. Finally seeing your full expressions fulfilled something in him that he didn’t care to reflect upon.

After deep, staccato thrusts that had you gasping for breath, he settled into a smooth rhythm. You slapped a hand over your mouth as your back bowed, thrusting your breasts up to his hungry perusal. Unable to resist temptation—the godless Tantalus he was—he settled his plump lips over your nipples, raised his eyes to yours, and sucked.

Even with your palm practically stuffed in your lips, your keen echoed around the room loudly and slick dripped down your thighs, making the desk underneath your bottom sticky and wet.

He tsked, lifting his head up and looked deeply into your eyes. A slight grin settled over his lips and Sicheng tilted his head mockingly. “Oh sweet girl, haven’t you forgotten we’re in an office?” His eyes darkened even more. “I’ll have to keep you quiet, then, whore.”

His featherlight touches on your rib cage was replaced with a bruising grasp to your throat, stealing the air out of you. His wrist settled into your collar bone and his slender fingers mimicked playing the piano, placing pressure on different parts on your throat to an unheard rhythm. The blood rushed to your ears, the dizzying sensation of it blurring your sight and distorting your thoughts. The veins on his forehand, twisting and rippling in the light, caught your vision and he moved—ever so roughly—into you.

Sicheng set a new pace, stretching your legs even wider and your head fell back onto the desk with a thunk. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe; you just felt the numbing sort of pleasure that radiated from your pussy.

“Fucking slut,” he gasped. “You’ve bewitched me, haven’t you? Wrapped yourself around my brain and haven’t let me so much as breathe without thinking about you.” His grip tightened around your neck. “I’ll show you.”

Suddenly, your phone on the floor rang and you both froze. He released the grip on your neck and bent down.

His back was like one of those old sketches the masters of the age practiced with, the light played upon his back and his muscles rippled under his skin—belying the power hidden within him.

“Who the fuck is Kunhuang,” he said flatly, wrath bubbling in his words.

You sat up. “H-he’s a friend. Nobody. No one.” 

“See you soon, love,” he read mockingly. “Call me when you have time.”

Sicheng crowded into your space, your eyes jumping around to avoid looking at his incensed face.

“Kunhuang.” He spat like it was filth upon his lips. “You left me for him?”

Feeling his constrained fierceness and his frantic gaze, you pushed harshly at his chest and bared your teeth at him. “It’s not like that. He’s my childhood friend!”

His rage bubbled to the surface and his nostrils flared. It was all the warning you had before he suddenly took your hips and flipped, forcing a scream out of you.

Your chest and breasts now pressed against your desk. Sicheng tugged you down to his hips, lifting one of your legs to rest on your desk and exposed your core to him shamefully. 

“I’ll take you from behind like the whore you are,” he stated. His rough tenor the grating upon your ears and scraping upon your skin.

He lined up and thrusted hard and you bit your lip, cheek against your deck and tears streaming down your face. It felt so good to be in his embrace, feeling every vein and ridge of his cock rub against your muscles.

Soon, you felt that feeling rising in your stomach, burning behind his eyelids as your orgasm began to build. His hands grasped your throat and he pulled, bowing your back to his chest and forcing his mouth to yours.

Teeth and tongue clashed and his cock hit this spot in you and you screamed into his mouth, tensing up beneath him as you shuddered painfully.

A grunt left him as he felt your muscles nearly strangle his cock and he only lasted a few, staccato thrusts until his vision went white.

Wednesday, February 13th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

7 AM HKT

You purposely did not look into Sicheng’s office window as you strode briskly down the hall with a coffee in your hand. 

A few days ago felt like a watershed moment, but after you two had caught your breaths, the sheer amount of emotions in the room—frustration, satiation, anger, hunger—weighed upon your lips and forced them shut. He had quickly dressed himself, not saying a word, but he casted a glance in your direction that was undecipherable and left.

You, at the moment, did not know how to feel. Hurt? Angry? Sad? But you settled upon your usual solution: ignoring that anything had happened and resuming the normal.

Alas, the fates were unkind. They neatly disposed of your plans to avoid the man when the two of you were scheduled to meet with other sales heads in the afternoon. Unfortunately, when the time came to be, you and Sicheng were the first ones there.

He studiously avoided looking at you, busying himself by opening up his laptop and flipping to a new page on his legal pad. You ignored him as well, scrolling through the latest news on your webpage. However, as the seconds ticked by, you could not resist resting your eyes upon him. It felt like a damn magnet was pulling your gaze to him.

He looked good today, from the brief glances you stole at him. Freshly shaven, his hair was styled neatly and he was in a dark green, cashmere sweater. Was this your fate? To be shamefully attracted to a man that equally repelled you?

“Interesting.”

The both of you shot a look at the door, where an unrecognizable, lanky man with a proud, straight nose was peering down upon you and swinging a plastic bag in his hand.

“Chengcheng? What the hell are you doing here?”

Completely ignoring Sicheng, he settled his lidded gaze upon you before his eyes lit up in recognition.

“So you’re the one that has shaken him, then.”

Dead silence permeated the room. He looked at the two shocked faces, both ashen. “What? Are you going to tell me I’m wrong? Please. I’d have to be deaf, blind, and dumb to ignore the way you two gravitate to each other.”

Your two quick glances that were meant to be unnoticed clashed, resulting in your eyes meeting. You both turned your eyes away.

Chengcheng snorted, as if that moment confirmed everything for him, and he chucked a bag at Sicheng.

“You forgot your lunch, remember?”

Sicheng’s jaw tightened. “Thank you.”

Once again, awkward silence reigned and ChengCheng’s eyes switched back and forth between you like a particularly exciting tennis match.

“You two need to talk. You’ll both age prematurely at this rate, with the angst you two are producing. Talk.��

He left with a wave, striding down the hall casually and stealing many of your female coworkers’ gazes.

“... He’s right, you know.”

Sicheng’s eyes flicked up to yours and he focused his full attention on you. Intensely, he contemplated you, tongue poking at the sides of his mouth.

“I agree. We can meet—” he cut himself off, looking around surreptitiously. “—at Black’s.”

You sucked your lip in between your teeth. “Fine. Neutral ground.”

He took a good, long look at you, like a man seeing water after seeing nothing but sand. 

“Tonight. At 8.”

Thursday, February 13th, 2020

Black’s

7:50 PM HKT

Strangely enough, you felt comfortable despite the jittery nerves under your skin as you walked into Black’s. 

The receptionist had given you a knowing look as you repeated the guest password, letting you in without question. You strapped on the standard, white lace mask and steeled yourself, opening the mahogany doors.

The club was abnormally busy; the guests and members crowded the couches and loitered on the floor. The quiet string music that could usually be heard was masked by the loud chattering of the people in the room.

“Is that you, Dove?”

You spun around to see the smiling, wizened face of Mr. Liu.

A grin broke out on your face and you took his hands. “Mister Liu! It is wonderful to see you.”

“I am happy to see you as well.” He chuckled with his eyes gleaming fondly at you. “Have you decided to visit this old man?”

Playfully, you lightly smacked his shoulder.

Mr. Liu was an important figure to you. All those months ago, when you arrived at Black’s to be screened, as a potential member and straight out of a relationship with Minghao—broken, shattered, hollow—he took one look at you and said no.

Why? You remembered asking tearfully. Am I not pretty enough? Rich enough?

He searched your pale, wan face, as if seeing the emotional scars Minghao had lashed into you, before sighing.

You shouldn’t be asking me that. Are you enough for yourself?

Confused, you had asked him to elaborate. He sympathetically replied that he could see you were entering the club for the wrong reasons. You were different, he’d said. You looked so innocent that he could not morally allow you into the club, despite the depraved patrons that gained membership. He knew, at the time, entering the club would cripple you.

So, what now? You asked, confused. He said he would keep your file open until you came back ‘at the right time.’

The ‘right time?’

You will know it when it comes.

And somehow, you did. After a few months of picking the pieces of yourself together and stabilizing your life, you had grown into a physically and emotionally healthy person. The “right moment” came and you sat in his quaint little office again, opposite of a smiling Mr. Liu as he stamped his approval.

After chatting a few moments, the volume in the room increased slightly and you frowned.

“Why is it so busy today?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Do you know what today is?”

“No?”

“Today is the evening before Valentine’s day, dear girl.”

“... Oh.”

New information in hand, you looked at the scene more closely. You could see that some couples in the crowd seemed to curl into each other, the affectionate brushes and knowing glances giving you a sick, sick feeling.

And that’s when you saw Sicheng.

Even masked, he drew attention from the members—attached and non-attached. His lean, fit form struck a figure and you couldn’t turn away from him.

He looked directly into your eyes and only a few seconds passed by as you two observed each other.

“Sicheng somehow found out, hm? Clever, devious boy.” Mr. Liu observed the dynamic much like ChengCheng earlier. His gaze was enraptured how the two of you clashed yet sunk into each other, the way two tidal waves—in a rare moment of offbeat rhythm—struck each other and subsequently merged. Push, pull, push, pull.

“Listen to him and he will listen to you. You two match more than you think,” he advised, bowed, and sunk off into the backrooms.

“Sicheng.”

“Y/N.”

Frustratingly, his face was unreadable. Nevertheless, he offered you his arm (a surprising show of manners) and he led you to a place you had never seen before.

This place was much less pristine than the rest of the club. The wallpaper was older, much more faded, and the wood looked much more worn.

This was one of Mr. Liu’s apartments.

The pair of you entered a comfortable sitting room with the lights low, to which only large candles had been lit.

He made sure you were properly ensconced into an armchair before he turned his back towards you and made his way to the drink carts.

“Would you like something to drink?” Sicheng asked, voice measured.

“A gin tonic would be wonderful.”

After carefully making your drink and pouring himself a healthy 4 fingers of bourbon, he handed your glass to you and sat down in the chair opposite of you.

Silence permeated awkwardly and you turned your eyes towards the tapestry in the middle of the room, giving yourself something to do.

“Were those feelings true?” he asked, not looking at you.

“Elaborate, please.”

“The last night…” He looked quickly at you, before turning his eyes away and clenching his jaw. “The last night we were together.”

“Ah.”

Absolutely, unequivocally. Dolos was everything you had searched for in Minghao and, while your relationship was unusual, you could not deny the string between you two.

Something burned at your eyes and you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Yes. Then and now,” you stated, opening yourself up for an attack.

His eyes widened and the twitching in his fingers stopped.

“And you, Sicheng?” you enquired boldly.

“Always,” he stated without hesitation. “It was never something as trivial as pillow talk.”

Seeing as he was on the brink of closing off, due to his rare moment of vulnerableness, you wrapped your hand around his.

His eyes shot to yours, then to your linked hands, before tightening his grip.

“I don’t know where to start,” you confessed. “I… One thing that has always been on my mind—why did you dislike me so much?”

He smiled bitterly. “Sometimes, I forget that you don’t see the way I see you. You are a smart, dauntless woman, who’s pushed all my buttons. It all just built and built upon each other until I found you—Dove—here.” He pauses. “I projected my frustrations onto Dove—you—here. But never, for a moment, doubt my feelings aren’t genuine.”

You pursed your lips. “Forgive me, but I cannot accept your accusations of me being the office slut—very rude, by the way—were without malice. You constantly pushed me down, clashed with me in the workplace and you were just plain classist.”

Sicheng’s eyes were casted down, but his grip was steady. “I will not lie. Those words I spat at you were with malice. But now, in retrospect, they were nothing more but words of immature frustration that I channeled towards you. I know that I cannot take them back and they will forever linger in the air between us, but I can apologize and recognize those words were completely unacceptable.”

He angled his body fully towards you and clasped your hand in both of his. “I am sorry for my actions. My anger was misplaced and the sentiments do not represent me anymore. I am sorry and I hope you can forgive me.”

“And then what? What do you want now, Sicheng?” An edge of desperation tinged your voice.

He smiled bitterly at you. “Everyday, the smell of you lingers and I, like Pavlov’s dog, cannot help but feel an ache in the marrow of my bones when I see your crimson red lips. Every night, when I go to bed, you are seared across the back of my eyelids and I cannot escape you, even in my dreams.” He paused. “I want you, or whatever scraps you’re willing to toss me.”

A sharp exhale left you nose and you blinked rapidly. “I don’t want to get hurt. You get off on hurting people.”

“With your consent.”

“Say I want a completely vanilla relationship,” you challenged. He didn’t flinch. “What about then?”

Sicheng clenched his jaw and held your gaze fiercely. “Anything.”

“I hate that you are all I’ve wanted in a man,” you admitted unwillingly. He hummed. “Will we be each other’s destruction? Or will we be each other’s maker?” you pondered nonsensically.

“Aren’t we already both?” he retorted.

Slowly, without releasing his hand, you rose from your chair and lowered yourself into his lap. His eyes traced your every movement. For a few, brief moments, you looked into each other’s eyes without the obsurance of a mask or the encumbrance of a workplace rivalry. Your left hand cupped his cheekbone and stroked the skin underneath his eye.

“This will be interesting,” you said.

He gave no sign of reaction, but tilted his head into your palm and closed his eyes. “After us, the flood,” he recited.

Monday, March 2nd, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

7:50 PM HKT

A secret grin tugged at your lips as you looked across the table at Sicheng, who was intensely focused on the presentation your coworker was giving. Perhaps he’d felt the weight of your gaze on him as he chanced a glance at you and gave you a small smirk.

The past month in your relationship with Sicheng was equally fulfilling and frustrating. There were times where both of you deliberately looked for a fight or misinterpreted each other, but there were also times you could shed your layers and just be yourselves with the other.

Even each fight, where you or Sicheng stormed out, or broke things, you came back to each other at the end. Pushing, pulling, pushing, pulling relentlessly. The flood, indeed.

You focused back in on the meeting and contributed to the smatter of clapter for the end of your coworker’s presentation. As he turned off the projector and people stood up to leave,  Xiao Daiyu—the interim head of the Sales department—stopped you and Sicheng.

“Y/N, Sicheng, please stay back for a moment. I’d like to talk to you about Mr. Lee’s replacement.”

You and Sicheng glanced at each other and you sat back down. A while ago, you had both agreed the decision wasn’t going to break the quiet relationship you had built. It was going to be sour. You knew, when someone was chosen, things could get messy and awkward. But this… this was too good.

Daiyu sat down and put her hands together. “After much decision and going through your interviews, the CEO has stepped in and we are sorry to say neither of you are getting the position.”

You jerked your head around to Sicheng and he did the same—wild confusion and anger in both of your eyes. Both your years of loyalty and dedication are being passed over?

“Instead, we have decided to hire outside the company for some fresh intake. He may be young, but it comes to us that he’s highly recommended and would fit in with our culture well.”

A sour feeling came to your stomach and you narrowed your eyes, resisting the urge to frown. They had decided to hire outside the company? This is how they decide to reward their workers? This was betrayal.

Glancing over, you could see Sicheng felt the same. His right hand grasped the arm of the chair tightly and you could see his knuckles turning white.

“I’d like to meet him and he’s coming—” She took a glance at her watch. “—right about now.”

A knock came from the door and a head of messy black hair peaked into the room.

“Daiyu laoban, great to see you.”

No. This could not be happening to you.

The wire glasses. The tall, lanky frame that filled the doorway. The almond shaped eyes hiding behind pitch-black hair, as black his shriveled little heart.

Daiyu, like the little bitch she was, giggled. “Y/N, Sicheng, please meet your new Sales Head: Xu Minghao.”

His eyes focused on you and your world suddenly felt tilted, careening sideways while the nausea hit you all at once.

“Nice to meet you,” he said cheerfully.

You could feel Sicheng’s concern radiating from him at your ashen face and look of shock, but you couldn't even think as flashes of blood and tears and pain shuddered throughout your body.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m pleased to be working with you!”

(”After us, the flood” or “Aprés nous, le deluge” is an expression from Madame Pompadour, King Louis XV’s lover.)

And it’s finished. Thank you. Please don’t forget to read, comment, and reblog. I love you all and goodbye.

[myfanfictiongarden]

Storm- Descendants fanfic

The clouds are dark and heavy, a menacing presence over the Isle, the winds throwing the rain manically through the dirty narrow streets. Shops are closing down for the day and the market stands are being deserted, everyone surprised by the force in this recent storm. To have bad weather on the Isle is not unusual, more the norm, having cold winds chill your bones or constant showers of rain drenching your raged cloths. Yet once in a while the winds decide to show no mercy on those who would despise such act anyway and one is only left to creep into any kind of shelter that he considereds home.

Skipping over the slippery rocks along the beach, the steep cliffs already far behind, Uma curses under her breath as heavy rain rolls down her face, her hair already dripping wet, her clothes a mere joke in this weather. A tiny hope arises in her that maybe now at least the rain may finally wash out the everlasting smell of shrimps out of her braids that has caused her such misery throughout the last three years, but this hope is thin as not even stolen Aurodonian soap could do such miracles. In front of her Harry easily aclimbs the last rocky obstacle and she follows him her feet finally having wooden planks under them, the path along the Wharft being uncomfortably slippery too. They had just met up after school at the rocks on the beach, only waiting for Gil to arrive so they could start their “treasure hunt” (as in “stealing”) in the market, but the weather has turned abruptly even before their companion could join them.

She has been following Harry through the rain without even asking where he was leading them, sure he would know some good place to take shelter, which was the reason why she now for the first time stopped realizing where he was taking them and wondering if that was truly their only option.

“This is the best you could cone up with? Isn’t your dad, like, at home or something?” She asks standing one foot on the plank that is leading on the famous Jolly Roger.

“Nah, he is still at the shop by now, and surely won’t consider coming home in this weather.” Harry says just slightly turning in her direction before disappearing through the double doors leading inside the ship, and she is left to simply follow too. Everyone knows the Jolly Roger and her famous captain, and Uma has often been standing at the harbour admiring that mighty ship, impressive still after long past it’s glorious days. To set foot on it was not an option. On the Isle you are usually not friendly with your neighbours, especially if they want to enter your property. Being wet to the bone as she was there was not left much to think about.

Passing through the entrance door she climbs slowly the stairs down to the living quarters, a grin on her face as she has the unexpected honour of entering that ship. Coming down to the first level she scans her surroundings, on the one end having a door leading to the mass with a stow and pans and long table being visible, another door indicating the shared bedroom of Harry’s sisters (the roughly engraved name of Harriet and the more joyful one of CJ declaring it as such) and the stairs behind her leading further down to the quarters of the crew that doesn’t live there anymore and the storage level that only storages dust and rats these days. 

What catches her attention the most though is the open door at the end of the hall at the far end of the ship: the Captain’s quarters. Her curiosity getting the better of her she lets her feet lead her there with a ever broader grin on her face, not noticing that Harry was about to lead her in the opposite direction. Her eyes are firmly fixed on what is in front of her, not ready to let this chance slip. How often can one wander Captain Hook’s ship anyway? The door is quite wide open, good, she would be able to take a look without touching anything. 

As she finally arrives at the doorframe she suddenly stops. The room in front of her is exactly how one would imagine it to be. Great windows on the far end cover the whole back of the ship, fine red curtains that look splendid even with the moth holes, a huge table in the middle with countless maps spread on it, a great piano in one corner and a small stowe to keep the room warm in winter in the other end, a curtain hiding what must be the sleeping place. But this are not the things that made her stop so abruptly. Sitting in a chair by the table is a woman of middle age, dark blond hair falling messy around her face to her shoulders, streaks of grey mixing with the blond, a dirty white blouse and a black and green long skirt being her attire, a round golden earring visible on the left ear. It is the manner in which she sits that makes the scene eerie, the thin hands holding needle and thread and a piece of fabric like about to sew, but all they do is move through the air in small movements, the lips twitching from time to time, the eyes holding a stare lost somewhere in the distance.

Uma didn’t even notice she had been holding her breath, until a gentle touch on her shoulder made her nearly jump, and turning around she can see Harry gesturing with his head she should follow him. Feeling suddenly incredibly awkward she looks down to her feet where a puddle of water has formed by now before silently following him.

He leads her to another door at the other end of the hall she realizes must lead to his bedroom. The door squeaks a bit as he opens it and steps in, not even turning around to see if she had been following him. 

His room is messy and not really big. He takes of his drenched red fake leather jacket (his biggest pride at the moment, he managed to bring a goblin to sell it to him for half the price) his black hoodie under it not looking much better, and ruffles his wet hair with his free hand, water dripping all around. Throwing the jacket over the only chair in the room he lets himself down on the floor under the round window opposite the door, stretching his legs and leaning his head on the wooden planks of the wall. Her hair still dripping (but not too much anymore, and she considers if she should start braiding it all the way around and not just in parts, that way her locks wouldn’t be an complete disaster in rain) she is a bit unsure what to do with herself and crossing her arms she starts to pace the room a bit. 

On the wall right from the door hangs a collection of various pocket watches and clocks, most of them already having a chipped glass, none of them working. She knows Harry likes his weird collection. There is a bookshelf with a bunch of rolled up papers, most of them probably sea maps one can not use on the Isle, and two actual books, one on the history of piracy and the other on sea monsters and myths. Opposite there is no bed but a simple hammock with a pillow and blanket. On the left from the door a chest stands, but judging by the look of it it doesn’t hold any treasures and more like dirty laundry. She can see the sleeve of Harry’s old shirt peaking out, the deep cuts in it telling her some sword fighting didn’t end too well for him. The middle of the room is taken by an table and chair, the chair not looking all too safe to sit on she decides to stroll to the wall where Harry still sits motionless on the floor.

Crossing her legs she lets herself down, lightning striking outside, followed by a deep rumble of thunder not far off. Waves rock the ship as they both sit in silence, she suddenly feeling itchy to talk.

“Was that your mom?” she asks as casually as possible, not sure if he would reply.

“Ay, the one and only one. Didn’t think I had one, right? Thought some dirty glowing fairy raised me, isn’t it?” His laugh, as he says that, seeming weirdly out of place.

“Of course I knew you had one, dumbhead.” She scoffs turning her head away, faking insult while actually still wondering about the sewing woman. On her right stands a wardrobe and the cutting marks tell her the doors must have stood in for quite a few of Harry’s angry outbursts. She can hear his pose shift, like he is reaching out for something on his left and soon enough he punches her arm a bit, a cup in his hand and dice on the other. She smiles slightly at the good idea and they spend the rest of the afternoon playing a game of dice.

Even though none of the clocks in his room work she knows a lot of time has passed, the sound of rain having calmed down, the sound of thunder dying away. Knowing her mom would throw her tentacles after her if she came to late to her shift again, she decides it’s time to face the ever present wrath called mother, and laying down the dice she makes her way about to leave, Harry following her suite. She walks into the hallway, dark and empty, wooden planks squeaking with every movement of the ship. On the far end she can still see the door to the Captain’s quarters being open and her feet stop at the stairs, her head turning slightly in that mysterious direction.

“She gets such fits once in a while.” Harry’s voice is nothing more than a whisper, nearly lost in the howling sound of the wind outside. Without another word he makes his way up and she follows him.

The clouds aren’t that heavy anymore, the evening sky already dark. Her steps are quite quick, yet she can still hear his steps being nearly as quick, him walking only slightly behind her. She isn’t sure why he decided to follow her to the shop, she doesn’t need any protection in the dark (although it does feel better) and it’s not like she has to expect every day to have a bucket of old fish been thrown over her head (she believes it would now happen even less often since she broke that dumb boys nose last week in school). The harbour is nearly deserted when her mom’s shop appears in eyesight and Harry stops to give her arm a slight punch before turning on his heals and starting to head back in the direction they came from. Some barrels standing by the side he decides to make a jump over them, getting hand of some rope hanging down and swinging on it a few feet through the air before landing on his feet again. He’s crazy Uma thinks. 

As she watches his silhouette disappear in the thick evening mist she notices he has neither his jacket nor hook with him.

[philosophorsfosterhome]

Something about Noodles and Love

Show: Tales of Arcadia Characters: Celeste Millway(OC), Hisirdoux Casperan Word Count: 2332 Summary: Hisirdoux is confronted with the fact he may have a problem with noodles.

Okay so, this one is legit just me distracting myself from a slight trigger i put on myself the other day, and it’s absolutely nothing but pure fluff. Please bear with me, i just needed to feel good inside

   “I'm home!” Douxie called out as he entered the house. A kinda small house, but the perfect size still. He heard laughter from the living room, the sound got closer and Celeste stood in the doorway to the entrance.

   “You've been gone, for fifteen minutes Douxie” she laughed and leaned against the door frame.

   “Aw come on, indulge me” he said with a smile and walked over to her, putting his hands on her shoulder. “I'm home~” he said softly and kissed her forehead.

   “Welcome home love” she chuckled and kissed his cheek. “Did you get the snacks?” she grabbed the grocery bag and looked inside it.

   “I tried to remember everything, but I also got-”

   “Some fucking cup noodles oh my god Hisirdoux I thought you were trying to stop” she laughed and took the noodles out. “these aren't even the good expensive ones! Douxie these are literally just air!”

   “Aw come on! I've kept myself clean for a whole two days! Not a single noodle have I eaten” he grabbed his girlfriend and swung her around. She squealed and tried to keep him from getting the noodles from her hands. A little difficult seeing as how all of his limbs had a distinct advantage of being significantly longer.

   “We have, a whole fridge full of food! Leftovers even! You just have to chuck them in the microwave!” Celeste got out of his grip and managed to snatch the noodles back. “you promised you'd try to stay away from Noodles for a week! At this point it's like you're actually addicted”

   “Two days is almost a week!”

   “It's like under a third of a week!” Celeste ran through the house with the noodles in her arms. “I'm locking these up before you can eat them!”

   “Oh no you don't!” Hisirdoux took off after her, long limbs almost getting tangled up and making him fall over himself. He could hear her squealing with delight as he chased her. He couldn't for long though, somehow it seemed he ran out of gas too fast.

   “That's what you get for existing on nothing but instant noodles!” Douxie had lost sight of her but he knew exactly where she was once he had the thump of a shutting safe door.

   “Aw come on!” he made it to their bedroom and saw her proudly standing by the small magical safe she had on her desk. “how many noodles do you have in there by now?” he walked over and tried opening the door. He knew the code, sadly he had no idea what infernal spell she'd managed to put on it that kept him from actually opening it.

   “Enough to feed all of Asia at this point” Hisirdoux felt a little better when he realized she was out of breath as well.

   “It's not that bad” he scratched the back of his head. He couldn't be that addicted to noodles, could he?

   “Not that bad? Douxie, Douxie” she laughed and patted the safe. “there's practically nothing but noodles in this! I've had to empty it to make room for more noodles”

   “Wait did you just throw them out?” Douxie was somewhat offended. Both that his girlfriend would toy with his noodles like that, and that she'd just waste food in such a way.

   “Of course not” Celeste rolled her eyes. “I gave them to Jim, and it was just the cheap generic ones, Malai eats those like chips”

   “Oh so when your sister wants to eat crunched noodles like it's cereal it's Okay, but when I wanna do it I 'have a problem' and 'need to cut down on my sodium intake'” he put up his fingers for air quotes and put on a thick sarcastic tone. Although he couldn't keep a straight face. Both him and Celeste laughed, he even saw her wipe her eyes a bit.

   “The difference, my dear boyfriend, is that Malai... actually eats a varied diet alongside the noodles” she faked a gasp and put her hand in front of her mouth. Douxie just rolled his eyes and pulled her close. “Not to mention that uh, Jim, is the one cooking for her usually? You know, the best fucking cook in Arcadia”

   “Don't let Mr. Benoit hear you say that, he might fire me for it” he chuckled. Celeste just rolled her eyes dramatically. “but like, seriously, how many noodles have you given away?”

   “Oh my god” she snorted and pushed at his chest. “Relax, I check the thing weekly for expired or expiring noodles and I give those away, I'm not that cruel”

   “I think I'd beg to differ, you are keeping me away from my drug of choice”

   “Oh so you admit you have a problem?”

   “... Alright, you got me there, i'll give you that one” he let go of her and held his hands up in defeat. “Maybe, just maybe, I do need to cut down on the noodles, in my defense it's the only thing I've known how to cook for, let's say a good few decades” he looked at the safe again. He knew there were some noodles in there he really wanted to eat. He heard Celeste sigh. She seemed to have noticed his longing stare at the safe.

   “Listen” he instantly whipped his head to look at her. This was the sort of tone that told him he was about to be given a rare gift, a gift from the goddess herself.   Mercy.

   “One fucking pack” Celeste held up one finger. “One pack today, maybe another tomorrow, but only one pack a day, maximum, and no that's not accumulative, i'm not gonna let you fast for a week and then overdose every Sunday”

   “Sou say that like I do that all the time”

   “Hey, guess what, you would, I know you Casperan” She opened up the safe door and stuck her whole arm in there. The safe itself wasn't that big. Honestly it couldn't be, as it was situated on top of a standard wooden desk. He knew she'd enchanted it to hold a lot more than it should be able to, like the weird safe Merlin had in his study at Camelot way back when.   Although this one had a different lock system, one Hisirdoux had yet to crack. And when he did, then yeah maybe he was gonna overdose on noodles, he wasn't sure.

   “But, I'm gonna throw you a bone” he was taken back to the real world when he heard the crinkle of a noodle pack emerge from the depths of the safe. “I'll even, let you have one of the good ones”

   And out she pulled, a spicy shrimp package, a really fancy expensive one with actual bits of dried shrimp for topping.   Douxie knew, that he had not bought that one. He had never seen that one anywhere but his dreams. And a few websites he'd browsed to see what kinds of noodles were out there.   But there it was, right in front of him, it was real and Celeste was gonna let him eat it. But that only brought up one question in his mind.

      “where'd that come from?” he took it and looked it over. It didn't feel like a reseal, he could feel the packets and noodles inside, there was a reasonable amount of crushed noodles inside.   As he thought all that, it did dawn on him that maybe he was a little too intimately familiar with the contents and feeling of a standard, non tampered with noodle package.   Which also brought to light that Celeste had tampered with enough to make him familiar with that as well. And lastly, that Celeste was definitely right, he had a problem.

   “I think, amazon?” Celeste shrugged. “I don't remember exactly, but like, it was on your wishlist, why, do you not like it?” she cocked her head. He could hear in her voice that she was very certain he did indeed like it.

   “Okay but why did Amazo- wait you bought this, and I assume more, for me?” he was now even more confused. Why would Celeste, who so vehemently tried to get him to stop consuming so many noodle packs, voluntarily bring more into the house, and especially ones of this price range.

   “Well” she walked over and stood on tippy toes to kiss his cheek. “Sometimes I gotta spoil ya, or you'll just leave me” she walked out of the bedroom and Douxie just stood there.

   “If you're implying that my love for you, is measured in how many noodles you let me eat... you're not entirely wrong but also that's a bit offensive” he walked after her and read the cooking instructions on the back. They were in japanese, but he did have a translation spell easily on hand.

   “I was joking” they split up as Douxie continued to the kitchen and Celeste slouched down on the couch again. “Although that does make me worry, but also if you leave you won't get the rest of your noodles”

   “I'll find a way to crack that safe!” he put the water over to boil, he was gonna tempt fate this time and actually use a pot, the noodles were of such quality that they deserved it. He decided to look through the fridge while the water came to a boil. Celeste hadn't been joking about the status of the fridge, it was indeed full. He did honestly feel a little bad, but he good to honest could not cook anything without something going wrong.   He'd tried, many times. Always failed, one time he's managed to explode an egg while boiling it.

   “Are you two arguing about noodles again?” Douxie heard Archie say from somewhere, then he heard two soft thumps from the office room and the shapeshifter came walking in. he was currently a cat, while he could easily just walk around like a dragon, he'd found it was easier to navigate the house as a cat, a standard house pet.

   “What gave you that idea?” Douxie asked and put the flavouring in the pot.

   “The screaming and running through the house mostly” Archie stretched and Douxie could hear him step into the living room, his soft paws tip tapping on the ground. “It can't be, Douxie finally won a game of Noodle Chase?”

   “Nah, I won, but I decided to be merciful and give him some noodles, poor man has suffered for a whole two days after all!” Celeste laughed and Douxie could hear Archie start purring.

   “You won't be laughing when I crack that safe of yours!”

   “Oh please! You'd have to navigate it! Given the problems you have finding the keys in my purse I have no worries”

   “I have always been curious, how come it takes you so long to find the keys in her purse? I thought it had a bright neon blue attachment on it?” Archie asked.

   “Listen Arch, you cannot comment on that until you've tried yourself” Douxie put the noodles in the pot, now he just had to pray that nothing would set on fire and he'd be golden. “One of the greatest mysteries in this world, is the ability that women seem to have when packing their purses'' he walked to the kitchen door and looked out at them.   “Same thing with Zoe, I once tried to find a box of matches in her purse, don't ask why, I couldn't find the bloody things and she just looked into it and pulled the suckers right out! I dont think i've ever seen a more clear look of 'you're as blind as a bat' as I did in her eyes that day”

   “You wanna know how? Women do this thing called, organizing, in our purses”

   “Ha ha, very funny love” Douxie walked back to his noodles and poked them. They were still too hard to pull off the heat. He was getting impatient and hungry. Although he wasn't sure if the noodles would actually satiate his hunger for long. That was another thing he could never say out loud, he knew noodles weren't the best, but damn if those suckers weren't satisfying still.

   “You done soon? Movie's about to begin!” Celeste called from the couch. Douxie froze up for a second, he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. He tried remembering as hard as he could, and it did hit him.   

   He'd gone out for snacks because a movie was coming up they were gonna watch. An old horror movie that Celeste had been excited about.

   “Yer fecking forgot about the Moovie didn't ye?” Douxie cringed a little at the Scottish accent creeping into Celeste's voice. Although it didn't last long, she began laughing. “oh relax, I can practically hear your muscles contract from here, just get your ass in the seat”

   “Don't scare me like that” the noodles were finally soft and he poured them into a bowl. He hurried inside and sat on the couch next to Celeste. Archie was in her lap, well half in her lap and half on the couch, she had one free hand stuck in a bowl of popcorn.

   “Did you forget to turn the stove off?” She asked, eyes glued to the screen. Douxie quickly snapped his fingers and the stove clicked a few times from the kitchen. “one day, you're gonna burn down the house, I can feel it”

   “Nonsense, I'll just fireproof the house like Merlin did the bookstore!” he took a slurp of the noodles. The movie began and Douxie looked to his side.   As he looked at his girlfriend, and arguably the closest he'd ever had to a brother sitting in her lap, his heart swelled in a way he hadn't felt before. He was pretty sure, it was pure untainted happiness.

   “I love you” he said and kissed Celeste's cheek. She turned away from the screen, smiling at him before pecking his lips.

   “I love you too, yer fecking noodle maniac”

[panikki]

So Many Ways to be Wicked

The Core Four are heading to Auradon, but not for the reasons their parents think. Sure, they'll be grabbing the wand but it definitely won't be for a bunch of washed up has-beens. With powerful children of the villains by their side, Mal, Jay, Carlos, and Evie will take over Auradon. Long Live Evil

~~~~~

My first fanfiction for this fandom. I initially posted it to AO3 but I thought maybe I should try posting it here for feedback.

Pairings: Jay/Carlos, Mal/Evie, minor Ben/Mal

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Child abuse, implied and referenced rape/non-con (nothing detailed at all), possibly a panic attack but I can’t remember, gore and blood later on

No beta, we die like socially anxious nerds who don’t know how to find betas.

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

Maleficent stood tall and proud in front of the four children, a smirk on her thin lips. The woman was thin, even more so than she had been in her glory days. Behind the four children stood three other villains, Grimhilde, Jafar and Cruella de Vil.

“You’ve been summoned to Auradon, as you all know,” Maleficent gestured to the four identical pieces of fancy parchment that had been crumpled and thrown to the ground in anger. “I expect you to retrieve the wand from that disgraceful faerie who protected Cinderella. You will go to Auradon and do anything you must to get me off this Isle. You do not want to know what I will do, what we,” she gestures to the sneering villains around the room, “will do to you should you fail. Dismissed.” Maleficent twirled around, her staff clutched in her hand with Diavolo perched on top. She did not allow anyone to protest, whether it was the children or the adults. She disappeared into a room, slamming the door shut. Instantly, the adults in the room began talking, arguing with each other, although they would never try to argue with Maleficent when she was so obviously on a power trip. The kids were all frozen in place, different thoughts running through their head, although they all were generally the same; what the absolute fuck.

“The mutt will not be going!” Cruella’s shriek shook the teens out of their stupor. They all looked at each other before they all locked eyes onto Carlos, Cruella’s son. Their eyes held well-hidden apologies and anger on behalf of the boy. His dark eyes were blank, freckles standing out against his pale cheeks. “Who would take care of the chores for me? What’s the point in having him if he can’t do something useful?” With long strides, the woman had made her way beside Carlos. She grabbed him by the dark roots of his white hair and yanked. Carlos fell to his knees, though he didn’t struggle against her. The three teens next to him, Jay, Evie, and Mal tensed, knowing if they tried to intervene it would make things worse for the boy. A boiling, dark anger gripped at their hearts at seeing the youngest of their group at the mercy of the madwoman.

“You will not go to Auradon, do you understand me, mutt?” The woman hissed, spit flying into Carlos’ face. Carlos barely flinched, having dissociated a while ago. Like a robot, the boy whispered a quiet ‘yes ma’am’ that satisfied Cruella. She let go of his hair, shaking the clump she had pulled out off of her hand with a sneer. Carlos slumped forward, a hand slowly going to the back of his head. He drew his hand back sharply, though he didn’t make a noise of pain. His fingers came back with a bit of blood on it and he knew without having to look that his friends were livid.

“Jadid cannot go either,” Jafar threw in, always wanting to put in his own two cents. Jay rolled his eyes before turning to face the man, keeping his face carefully blank. Even the slightest twitch of his face could set his father off, yelling and screaming about how Jay was useless, a bastard child with no talent, how everything would be better if Jafar had tossed Jay off the edge of the Isle and let the sharks have at him. “Jay has tasks that need to be fulfilled, my shop needs to be stocked. Even if his wares are abysmal and disappointing, much like himself.” Jafar sneered at the tall boy, crossing his thin arms over his chest.

“Well, Genevieve will be happy to go. She’s a princess, that is where she belongs. With a handsome prince that she can marry. Not too mention the amount of money she will inherit once that handsome prince dies suddenly,” Grimhilde smiled wide, a faraway look in her dark eyes. Evie walked to her mother’s side, her mother grabbing her slender wrist.

“Yes, and once he is out of the picture, I would send for you, mother,” Evie said in a gentle voice. Grimhilde’s smile grew impossibly wider and her long nails cut into Evie’s wrist.

“That’s ENOUGH,” Mal shouted, fed up with everyone talking and arguing over something that could not be changed. Mal’s eyes flashed an iridescent green, the only hint that she possessed Maleficent’s heritage as a faerie. Begrudgingly, the elder villains stopped talking to themselves and muttering threats to their child (at least in the de Vil’s case). “Unless you want to be chopped up by the goblins and thrown into the water or fed to the beggars, I suggest you remind yourselves that this plan was made by Maleficent, someone much more powerful than the three of you combined. The plan will go into play and there is nothing you can do to stop it. No one will care if the creep in the shop, the hermit from the old castle and the insane puppy skinner (oh I’m sorry, you never actually were able to go through with that were you?) suddenly disappeared.” The three children of said villains stepped away from the parents slightly, expecting an explosion. There was none, not yet anyway.

“Come, Jadid, we must go,” Jafar said, his skeletal face turned into a sneer, an evil look in his black, beady eyes. 

“He will go nowhere. If you don’t remember, Jafar, but we must plan and you don’t want to cross Maleficent, right?” Mal smirked. They had one week to plan, enough time where they can hide out in Carlos’ hideout or in an abandoned room in Grimhilde’s castle. The kids had things they needed to do and Mal needed every one of them at their best, especially if they were to approach a certain gang on the Isle. Jafar grimaced and disappeared, his ratty cloak sweeping out with him. Cruella had devolved to talking to herself and her fur coat and Grimhilde hadn’t heard a word, too busy fussing over the wrinkles she had gained. Mal took advantage of the situation, beckoning the three other villain children to follow her. They made their way out the back door of the castle and through the streets.

“What’s going on Mal?” Evie whispered, smiling coyly at a middle-aged henchman while Jay swiftly took what he had been holding and what had been in his pockets. They swiftly danced around any potential threats and broke any hands that tried to pickpocket them.

“Mal, where is it we’re going?” Carlos asked, barely looking as he twisted the wrist in his hands until he heard a cry of pain and a snap. He threw the elder villain’s arm away from him and caught up with the others.

“To the hideout, where Maleficent won’t be able to use her nasty little spies to listen to us talk about our plan for Auradon,” Mal finally answered. They were in a more abandoned part of the Isle, so she thought it okay to finally speak. However, she caught the sight of a shadow moving in an alley. She froze, a hand coming up to stop the rest of the gang. She then pointed down the alley. Jay and Carlos broke out of formation, being the strongest and quickest of the bunch. They peeked around the corner to see Gil Legume hurriedly rushing towards the peer.

“Fuck,” Carlos whispered before sprinting after the man. He easily jumped and ducked under obstacles that gave Gil trouble, meaning he caught up with the teen quite easily. Jay was close behind, backup in case Carlos needed it. Carlos perched atop a pipe that ran from building to building before pouncing down, landing nimbly on his feet right in front of Gil. Gil startled, backing up into Jay. Carlos smiled charmingly.

“Now where do you think you’re going?” He asked in a smooth, quiet voice. It sent shivers down Gil’s back, and not pleasantly like the shivers running up Jay’s back. 

“Um-I was just, ya know, heading to the shop to, uh, talk to Uma,” Gil stammered out, eyes widening when he looked behind Jay to see the two girls walking towards them.

“And what, evil tell, were you going to talk to her about?” Evie asked sweetly. Gil perked up, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

“I was gonna tell her about you talking about Auradon and your plan!” He exclaimed, giddy like a small puppy. Mal stepped forward.

“Let him go Carlos, Jay. Legume, tell Shrimpy I want to talk. The Pirate Queen, I hear she calls herself. Obviously a bad parody of the Dragon Queen, but whatever sinks her boat,” Mal sneered. Carlos stepped out of the way and they all watched as the Legume boy stumbled his way to the Fish and Chips shop Uma and her little pirate crew worked at.

“This is going to be great, much better than expected,” Mal sing-songed before turning on her heel and heading back towards the hideout.

Once inside the graffitied walls, they all crash landed onto the closest bed. They were all completely overwhelmed with what had to be done, but they also had to come up with a game plan for whenever Uma got the message.

“We’ll be going to the shop tonight,” Mal said from her spot squished between Evie and Carlos.

“Why do you need to speak with Uma anyway?” Evie asked, resisting the urge to furrowed her brow. Wrinkles were unsightly.

“The shrimp may be a bitch but she’s been able to round up an entire crew and get them to follow her and her alone, without the use of her mother,” Mal spat out, grinding her teeth. “We could use someone like that when we take over Auradon. When we are the kings and queens, we can’t have those pirates working against us, now can we?” 

“What?” Carlos asked, sitting straight up and jostling Jay with his bony shoulder. “We aren’t gonna get the wand and free Maleficent?”

“Evil no Carlos, get with it,” Mal said, though there was little malice in her tone. “Why would I give the wand to a bunch of pathetic has-beens who didn’t even get it right when they had the chance? No, we will steal the wand but not for them. We will become rulers of Auradon! Us and all the other VKs stuck on this hell of an Isle. We’ll see who’s laughing, then.”

[deepweboutlxws]

Quote Book 2018 Starters

// Feel tree to tweak and add context to these starters as much as you like!

“_____....a pussy slayer legend.”

“You wanna know how Gerber baby food murder one another?”

“Look, we all float down here!”

“Why are there cummies in our soda?”

“The rapist’s lament.”

“It makes me think that _____’s hair is a sentient being that’s spreading.”

“He wasn’t even gonna cook me. He was just gonna eat me raw!”

“I am the size of an actual children.”

“I spent a week there one day.”

“Did we give him a safe word?”

“Idaho? No, you da hoe.”

“I not da high.”

“If someone was like ‘_______, I cannot take this. I will not pass, please have mercy’, I would probably still make them take it.”

“It looks like hair. Mm, delicious!”

“_______ was yelling at us for getting an easy question wrong and I was just reading someone getting his ass ate so it was the funniest moment of my life.”

“What if I put ______ in my backpack and yote him up there?”

“It’s not my kink to eldritch blast people. Actually it is.”

“[Hippie voice] You fucking nematode.”

“What do you call it when someone enjoys killing people and masturbating in public?”

“An extrovert!”

“Just remember: NOT THE WHOLE ASS SPELL POOL.”

“No one has a better southern accident than _____”

“The Godfather of your horse.”

“______’s a scaly, what can we say?”

“Age is just a number.”

“There’s a lot of childs.”

“You’ve heard of The Great Gatsby, now get ready for The Great Zaxby’s.”

“You’ve heard of the Great Gatsby, now get ready for the Grest ______. The next big man who went from having everything to having nothing.”

“Is that big bird?”

“My libido makes me feel like I have the strength of ten old men.”

“I lost my dignity when my balls fell off.”

“No bangy bangy.”

“These shrimp tastes fishy.”

“I’m gonna punch you in my face.”

“No toe suck for you.”

“Finger suck then.”

“Mm, tastes like spaghetti!”

“Be proud or I’ll vore you!”

“We gotta go home and and say hello to ______, goodbye!”

“Spain shall water its vineyards with the blood of French men.”

“You frog eat frog legging eating bitch.”

“Just because you hit my mother with a car, doesn’t mean you can do that.”

“This is D&D communism.”

“I’m allergic to orange soda, but I still drink it sometimes because fuck it.”

“Scholarships aren’t cool. Being in insurmountable debt, now that’s cool.”

“Stress is one of my favorite songs.”

“Everyone’s so loud, I hate this life.”

“Because like... being a neckbeard is a state of mind. It’s like... psychological.”

“The 12 layers of grief.”

“Did we do anything important? Do we ever?”

“You do not bite into a freshly baked pizza roll. Do you want to die?”

“Betty thinks out of her throat.”

“If I don’t move it won’t see me.”

“Dying is a superpower.”

“What else is in the ground? Besides me after being bitten by a spider.”

“A smile here, a smile there [points to _____], she doesn’t like me at all.”

“I would break a sweat doing anything.”

“You break a sweat doing bowling?”

“You need me. I am an athlete.”

“I’m actually impressed you didn’t just rip your pants.”

“Some virgins of dancing.”

“Sports are an art.”

“Who da fuk Rin-Rin?”

“Excuse me, that is offensive to uncircumcised penis.”

“How the fuck do you accidentally plant a pineapple?”

“Why are you here?”

“Rosa Parks?”

“I can be the nicest child in the world.”

“Don’t give him that chance.”

“Shut the hell up.”

“You’re not people. You’re my ______.”

“Everyone’s doing it... Don’t listen to Sam, she’s a bad influence.”

“Do you think the factories where they make iPhones are called apple orchards?”

“Have you seen Moses?”

“I hate people.”

“Off with their heads.”

“What is the point... What is the point of knockoff chocolate chip cookies?”

[mimemindmine]

Bonus chapter!

Pg 127

Panel 1

Chip Chip

panel 2

Rin's aside" mhmmmm

Title:

Bonus chapter 1: Onigiri-Fluffed to perfection

Panel 3

Rin: Well, isn't it a beautiful day?

panel 5

Rin 1: In other words,

Rin 2: Wouldn't it be great to have to have a picnic today?

Panel 6:

Sakura: Oh!

Sakura: Sounds Wonderful

Panel 7

Saber: Ah. An outdoor picnic? I approve.

Rider: I'm off today, so no problems here.

pg 128

Panel 1:

Rin: Shirou?

Panel 2:

Shirou: Yeah.

Shirou 2: Doing this kind of thing every once why doesn't sound too bad.

Panel 3:

Rin's written: Alright!

Sakura: Well, it looks like we'll have to prepare the bento!

Written: Leave this to me!

Sound effect near Sakura: Shine!

Shirou: Speaking of that, for the onigiri, does anyone want to make a request?

Panel 4:

Saber: I'm fine with anything. I'll trust your judgement, Shirou.

Rin: Hmm...Salmon sounds good.

Rider:I'll also leave it to your discretion.

Sakura: How about pollock sound?

Panel 5:

Shirou: Got it

Shirou 2: I'll get started.

Written:

Let's see...

I'll be adding some

Salmon,

Pollock Roe,

Ume,

and some Takana, huh?

pg 129

Panel 1

Rin: Well, I'll leave everything to you then!!

Shirou: ...you would leave everything to me.

Panel 2

Ding~!

Warm~!

(Go back to that)

Panel 3

Shirou: When making onigiri, you want the rice to be somewhat firm. So, freshly cooked rice is ideal.

Sakura: But, then it'll be scalding hot, so you'll have to be careful, alright?

*cut*

*cut*

Panel 3:

Sakura: Senpai, the food's ready here.

Inside the tray:

Top right:

Pollock

Top left: Grilled cod

Bottom left: Umeboshi

Bottom right: Salmon

Plate on the top left: salt

Bowl on the top left: Water

Bottom left bowl: Takana

Shirou: Okay. Thanks, Sakura.

panel 4

Dip your hand in water and then sprinkle some salt onto the palms of your hand.

Panel 5:

Insert the salmon

*swish

Panel 6

Fluff

fluff

pg 130

Panel 1:

Shirou: Here you go.

Panel 2:

Shirou: Speaking of rice balls, preparing and molding them is almost instinctive at this point.

Written: We're going to have to prepare 3 or 4 more per person, huh?

Panel 4:

Sakura written: Aha ha ha

Sakura: Somehow this is rather nostalgic。

Shirou: Hm?

panel 5

Sakura 1: When Senpai first started teaching me, we had started with onigiri.

Sakura 2: No matter what I did, they wouldn't come out right.

Rider: Sakura, did such a time actually exist?

Sakura written: Of course, it did!

Panel  6:

Shirou 1: ...The first time I've started cooking?

Shirou 2: I wonder what did I try to make?

panel 7

Shirou written: I'll be cooking from now on.

Kiritsugu: Ah. I'll be looking forward to it.

panel 9

Shirou: ...I'm sorry, old man. It didn't come out right.

The egg got burnt...

Kiritsugu: Really?

Kiritsugu 2: It pretty good, you know?

Present Shirou: Ah.

pg 131

Panel 1

Sakura: Is something wrong?

Shirou: No. I've just remembered something...

panel 2

Shirou: And now, it's finished.

Sakura: We've prepared quite a bit~

Panel 3:

Sakura: And the side dishes have also come out perfectly!

Written: Please look forward to it, Saber-san!

Saber:Hohou.

Panel 4

Sakura: Yes!

Shirou: Looks like it's the perfect time to leave, huh?

132

Panel 1:

Shirou: Now

Panel 2:

Shirou: Feel free to eat as much as you want. We've made plenty.

Rin: Isn't this the best?

Saber: Yes! Thank you for the food!

Panel 3:

Sakura: What would you like, Rider?

Rider: Hmmmm...I'll like the Tamagoyaki

Panel 4:

Rin: Oh. This is pretty good.

Panel 5:

Saber: Ah~

Panel 6:

munch

pg 133

Panel 1:

Saber: It's salmon.

Panel 4

Sakura: Ah! Rider, that's umeboshi!

Rider: Sour.

Rin: Now that's a rare expression.

Panel 5:

Rin 1: Yup. I'm glad that we came out today.

Rin 2: The food's delicious.

Panel 6:

Rin: And you could tell how diligently our chiefs made our lunch.

Sakura: Here you go.

Rider: That you so much...

134:

Panel 1:

Shirou: Yeah,

Panel 2

Shirou: this kind of thing is great.

Pg 135

Panel 1

Taiga: Shirou!

Taiga 2: I want some nagashi somen.

Bonus Chapter 2: A Crispy Kakiage--A vegetable-seafood Stir-Fry

panel 3

Written: What’s wrong with plain somen?

Shirou: What are you suddenly requesting, Fuji-nee?

Panel 4

Illya: Nagashi somen?

Written: I've seen pink and green somen before

Illya 2: Somen noodles are usually white, right?

Illya 3: So, what do you mean by "Nagashi?"

Panel 5

Taiga written: Alright.

Taiga: Nagashi Somen is a fierce free-for-all battle! By letting the noodles flow, the fastest person swoops in and captures the noodles! It's generally quite terrifying, Illya-chan.

In box: Image

Archer: Uoooooo!

Cu: Che! You Bastard!

Written beneath the pole:

To steal or not to steal, that is the question...

Shirou: Hey. Stop feeding Illya nonsense.

Sound effect for Taiga's hand: "Clench"

Panel 6

Illya: Heeh, isn't it fine? That sounds fun!

If it comes down to it, I can use Berserker!

Shirou: ...You'll consider using him from that explanation?

Written: Please don't do that.

Panel 7:

Shirou: Anyways, I don't have the equipment for that here.

Tiga: That's no problem!

136

Panel 2:

*pokes*

Panel 3

Taiga: Look! We an use this!

Written: And set everything up.

Shirou: Why do you even have that...

Panel 4

Shirou: Isn't great, Illya? We can make it now.

Illya: I didn't know somen could be so fun.

panel 5

Shirou: Speaking of somen,

Panel 6

Open

Panel 7

Shirou: Let's gather the more common ingredients

pg 137

panel 1

*Tap*

*tap*

Panel 2

Gently mix wheat flour and salt in cold water

Panel 3

Add the Sakura-Shrimp, scallop, and vegetables

Panel 4

*drop*

*Sizzle*

Shirou: Now,

Panel 5

Shirou: shouldn't you tell me that you're home now?

Panel 6:

Rin: Why are you making tempura when it's this hot? Isn't this a bit much, Emiya-kun?

Shirou: Yeah, that's what I'm thinking.

panel 7

Rin: Speaking of overdoing things, what's going on in your garden?

Shirou: Preparations for flowing somen. Toshaka, if you're free, please help me out.

Rin: What? What's flowing now?

Panel 8

Sizzle

Panel 8

*Snap*

*snap*

Panel 9

*tap*

Panel 10:

Shirou: Oh. Water's boiling.

pg 138

Panel 1

Pst

Pst

Panel 2:

Vssssssh

*splash*

panel 5

Taiga: Ah~ Shirou! Is the somen ready?

Panel 6:

Shirou: Yeah, yeah. It's ready now.

Panel 7:

Taiga: Oh!

Panel 8

Taiga: You made Kakiage! You really pick up on these things, Emiya Shirou!

Shirou: It's just normal to serve kakiage with somen.

319

Panel 1:

Sakura: Fujimura-sensei! Illya-chan! Catch!

Panel 2

Taiga and Illya: Got it!

Panel 3

*sliding*

Panel 4

yoink!

Splash!

Panel 5

Illya: Meanie! Don't be a child, Taiga!

Written: Shouldn't you let me have the first one?

Panel 6:

Taiga: I told you, Illya-chan.

Serious!

Taiga 2: This is...a battle...!!

Written: I won't hand anything over!

panel 7

Saber: Hmmm

Saber: So this is a battle... If that's the case, I wouldn't mind getting serious...

Panel 8

Saber: Let us begin.

Taiga: Ah. Saber-chan, have mercy!

bubble 3: Ah. AAAAAAH!

SPLASH

pg 140

panel 5

Come Over here~!

Taiga: Shirou! Bring out the Kakiage!

Illya: Kakiage?

Shirou(on top): Yeah, yeah

Shirou(right): Don't harass the waiter.

panel 6

Taiga: Yup! Having somen with kakiage is the best.

You dip it in the sauce and then wallah!

Illya: Hmmm. So that's how it is.

Taiga: It's exactly as I said

Panel 7

Munch

Panel 9

Taiga/Illya: chew

Saber: Mhmm. Mhmm.

141

Panel 1

Taiga: You gotten better again, Shirou~!!

*Crunch Crunch*

*Second Serving

Taiga 2: You are steadily improving!

panel 4

Shirou: So why did you suddenly bring up Flowing somen?

Taiga: Huh? Well, it's cause Shirou said he wanted to try it.

Panel 5

Shirou: Huh? When did I say that?

Taiga: Let' see....

Pane 6

Taiga: When you were this tall.

Shirou: Hey.

142

Panel 1

Taiga: Well

Panel 2

Taiga: I actually remembered that recently.

Panel 3

Taiga: Anyways, I’m glad.

Taiga 2: Compared to that time, this household has grown and become much more lively.

panel 5:

Shirou: I'm really no match for Fuji-nee...

Onigiri-Fluffed to perfection (four servings)

Right list: Ingredients

Four servings of slightly harden rice

A bit of salt

As much nori as you want * (should explain Nori vs seaweed)

Grilled Salmon, grilled cod, umeboshi, mustard pollock, and or whatever topping you prefer

1. For onigiri, you want the rice to be slightly firm. So when you are cooking the rice, use 10 to 15 percent less water.

2. First dip your hand in water and then sprinkle a bit of salt on your palms. if the rice is warm, it would be more likely to absorb the salt and shrink in size. If the rice is cold, it is less absorbent,but would look larger.

3. While the rice is resting in your palm, insert your prefered ingredient. Do not apply too much pressure while you shape and mold the rice. Depending on who you are making this for, it is important to consider the size of the riceball.

4. Depending on your preference, you may want to sprinkle some sesame seeds on the rice. Instead of typical Nori, you may want to try wrapping the rice ball with other seaweed brands.

Saber: Shirou!! If it's like this, I could also make some!

Even like this, it rather neat

Shirou: That's amazing, Saber. It an incredibly dense looking onigiri.

It's incredibly pointy.

ー

Crunchy Kakiage--a vegetable and seafood stir fry fix

1. Prepare the scallops before boiling them.

2. Shred and rinse the vegetables

3. Mix Wheat flour and salt in cold water and gently stir the mix.

4. Combine the results of steps 1-3.

5. Slowly pour and heat the oil until it reaches a temper

Gradually pour and heat the oil into a pot. When the oil reaches a temperature that permits deep-frying, add the mixture from step 4. It is recommended that you use a ladle strainer for this step.

6. Fry both sides evenly. When one side hardens, make sure to flip to the other.

You can skewer the contents to hasten the cooking process.

7.When it's crispy and dry, the dish is complete.

5 bubble: In the manga, Shirou used a ladle to contain and deep-fry the mix.

Right side: Ingredients

1 onion

4 Spring Onions (or fully grown scallions)

1/2 a carrot

100 G of boiled Sakura Shrimp

(It's fine if its raw shrimp instead)

100 G of Scallop Adductor

1/2 a teaspoon of salt

100 G of Wheat Flour(tempura flour)

1/2 cup of cold water

As much salad oil as you want

Shirou: I didn't add an egg today. However, if you do choose to add an egg, the dish will be finished with a fluffy texture.

Taiga: Heh~

[witchreflection]

Hello friends, so i while i was trying to keep writing the mad max/venom thing, i accidentally wrote an entirely different mad mad/mp100 thing. 

Also, 1am is about the perfect time to post this unfinished thing, so here it is the provisionally titled

Aloe Vera

Mad Max: Fury Road + Mob Psycho 100 crossover

Summary: 

In the end, it isn’t ESPers (particularly) what destroys the world; people with no psychic powers can doom everyone on their own.

In a completely unrelated event, one Wednesday Reigen and Mob accidentally time travel to the not so distant future.

*No more warnings than those you would expect from a Mad Max movie, and everything is implied and off-camera anyways. 

—

While being stranded in a desert, alongside his fifteen years old, without the appropriate equipment, is already a worst-case scenario, it only takes Arataka a glimpse of the settlement (maybe camp?) to realise it is about to get terribly, horribly worse. The precarious improvised buildings, the modified cars, the heavily armed people, the hungry hopeless looks of those who aren’t armed, it all points to something bad, what, exactly, he can’t tell yet, but his main guess is that they stumbled into a war zone.

And while he doubts they can get help in such a place, they already consumed most of the water they had (which was actually the barley tea for clients, Mob’s milk, Tome’s lichi ramune and Serizawa’s iced coffee, and not really water), Mob and Arataka are severely sunburned, and once the sun sets the temperature will begin to drop.

With a sigh he tells Mob to reinforce his barrier and to keep close, then they walk into the settlement.

---

They do not get help and there is no water to be spared, but they get the weapons to change hands and the people stop looking quite that hopeless.

Arataka doesn’t know what, exactly, will happen to the men formerly in charge of the camp now that they are at the mercy of the people they were abusing, but he imagines it is nothing good (not that they will not deserve it) and he doesn’t want to be there when it happens.

But before they go, they talk (faltering and in English) with the old lady who appears to be elected the new leader of the camp.  Through her they barter Arataka’s cellphone (they have no signal anyways and they still have Mob’s), all three packages of Tome’s melted strawberry pocky (they still have a bag of shrimp flavoured potato chips, rice crackers and assorted umaibo) and Arataka’s dress shoes, for more or less fitting sturdier boots (Mob’s trainers are leather, brand new and thick soled, so they should do) (the boots where probably taken from the men previously in charge and Arataka will not think too hard on that one), a tarp, a sheet of clear plastic, a canvas backpack thing and a pair of scarves to cover their heads with (and a handgun, given silently to Arataka along a fistful of ammunition, and then tucked discreetly in the back of his trousers, after making sure it wasn’t chambered and the safety was on).

(And if we are being honest here, they probably got that much, not thanks to Arataka’s superb negotiation skills, but to gratitude and sheer relief that they were leaving and not demanding more. Something he is not taking personally, considering the situation before their arrival and the demographics of the camp.)

And most importantly, from the old lady they get information. From her assumption that they came from Sydney (dressed like that, not knowing anything), Arataka learns they are somewhere in Australia (a fact confirmed at night when Mob identifies some southern constellations Tome explained to him once). From her talk about a “before”, the wonder over a working cellphone and her confusion about a government or authority, Arataka forms some hypothesis and learns that they will not be getting help soon and that they should avoid most permanent settlements, mountain passes and people carrying about a flaming skull symbol. More straightforwardly, Arataka learns that, no, there are no reliable sources of water, radiation is such a constant danger that it went full circle and people doesn’t concern themselves too much about it and that they should keep an eye out for sandstorms.

---

They survive.

Arataka has his foldable multi-tool and the know-how to make a moisture trap, light a fire and catch small game.  

Mob is a bit heartbroken the first time they have to kill and eat a lizard, but does not complain, not even once, not about the fact that they don’t have a destination, the sun, the cold, the sand, the lack of water, and it keeps Arataka from just giving up.

---

They encounter ghosts. Many.

The ghosts are usually mean, confused, hazy. Some are strong enough spirits for Arataka to perceive or affect the physical world, but most only Mob can see. Mob always exorcises them. Arataka thinks it is kinder than to let them wander the desert forever, Mob agrees.

They also find a couple friendly, helpful, ones. One guides them to the crash that killed her, upside down, half buried and pretty much invisible where a sandstorm threw it. The car itself may still be able to run and Mob’s powers could fix the crumpled cabin, but the gas has long since spoiled. Even then, it provides them with invaluable gear, materials, things to barter with, and it will serve as a shelter.

Once it’s cool enough, Arataka takes their new (old) shovel and buries the two bodies they found in the car. The ghost vanishes peacefully afterwards on her own.  

They don’t stay for long in the car, as there is no food around, and eventually they find another ghost that shows them a muddy patch that used to be once the source of a small stream. They stay there for a longer time, but the ghost advises them to leave, as the place is inside Rock Rider territory. They go, taking with them as much water they could collect with their trusty clear plastic sheet. Mob offered the ghost to exorcise him, but he refused on the hope that in the future he might be able to guide another person to the water.

Eventually, they come across the ghost of a blonde policeman.

---

Arataka follows after Mob carefully, just like Mob follows carefully after the ghost. They are traversing through what Arataka assumes used to be an opal mining site, with the added danger that someone, at some point, disguised the mineshafts, crating an unpredictable array of pitfall traps.

Mob stops walking, nodding mindfully from time to time and then thanks the empty air where Reigen assumes the ghost is, promising they’ll take care of it now. They are standing next to a recently disturbed trap.

Arataka approaches the edge cautiously, even though Mob would stop his fall if he where to slip. At the bottom, looking up at them, there is a man.

Unsurprisingly, the man points a gun at them.

---

There are voices overhead, not close enough to understand what they are saying. If they are the ones to set the trap or not, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter one voice is terribly familiar; they all get mixed in, scrambled around, and he doesn’t never quite remember to whom they belong to, and most of the time he prefers it this way. The odds point to someone with a grudge with him, anyways, so the wanderer sets himself and readies his gun.

At the edge of the trap stands a man and a boy. At first he doesn’t know what it is about them that makes him uneasy, as he doesn’t make an habit to be around people, but then starts to notice the small details, the man has a matching suit, for one. Sure it has seen better days, as has everything in the world, but the wanderer can’t recall anyone with a suit in such good condition in, let’s say, some 7000 days.

And they look hungry, as everyone else does, but the boy looks as if he had been well feed until recently, his shoes are not only matching, but runners, white leather underneath the red sand.

But overall, they look-- at ease; careful, cautious, but not really concerned. Had he seen them 4000, 3000 days ago, he may had still called it naivety, nowadays it rings like well deserved confidence, and that is dangerous.

They briefly talk to each other in some language the wanderer doesn’t recognise, another oddity. After a moment, the man crouches down at the edge of the mineshaft and finally addresses him.  

“Sir, my student here—”, the man makes a broad gesture to indicate the boy and almost loses his equilibrium in process, before regaining his footing with more exaggerated flailing “—can help you get out of there, but first we need to know if you are injured.”

The wanderer does not lower the gun, untrusting by necessity and experience. The offer seems honest, the question reasonable, but if they are the ones who set the trap, they may be searching for a way to subdue him, and there is the unseen owner of the third voice, besides.

Even if they didn’t set the trap themselves, they may still want some kind of compensation for their help.

Still, the wanderer has been down there already for a day and a night, trapped by the crumbling walls of the mineshaft and the wrecked brace on his bum leg. He left the Interceptor carefully hidden far away enough; he can’t trust that no-one would stumble upon her if he leaves her alone for too long, but he would have to keep these people from following him to her.

It’s not like he has much of a choice. He shakes his head no, and he took his time answering but the man seems to get it and turns to the boy. The mans says something in that unknown language again and the boy nods; the wanderer tenses and shifts of his gun, so he is pointing squarely at the man instead of pointing their general direction.

The boy frowns and reaches towards the man, as if to pull him away, but the man just rises his hands and starts waving them around as he talks, “no, no, it’s ok, I was just telling Mob to be careful, yeah. He is going to take you out now, it’s going to be startling, so don’t shoot us by accident”.

Before the wanderer has a chance to process that, he is floating in the air.

By reflex, he shoots.

The bullet stops before hitting the man in the chest and just stays there, still rotating slightly.

The man falls on his ass, shallowing.

The wanderer is unceremoniously dropped to the ground on his back, from about two meters in the air, as the gun is yanked from his hand, and it floats away, disassembling itself in the air, until it falls in the boys cupped hands.

That lack of concern? He now knew why.

“That went well,” says the man as he picks himself from the ground, dusting his trousers. The look the boys gives the man expresses perfectly the wanderer’s feelings about the whole situation.

---

So Arataka may have almost being shoot again, but they now got a drive and someone who knows his way around this desert.

The man they rescued from the mineshaft has not said a word in the whole time they’d been together, communicating only in grunts, shrugs and gestures. By his skittishness and the length of his beard, Arataka has the feeling that the man has not been around people in a while, which considering the people Arakata and Mob have meet, it’s understandable.

The other thing is that, according to Mob, the man is not only has some degree of ESP, but he is also literally haunted by several ghosts of varying levels of meanness, and apparently believed he was just hallucinating them until Mob confirmed he could see them too.

The man doesn’t give them his name. The ghosts know it, but Mob says it feels rude to use it, so Arataka decides to call him Ronin-san, because it sounds cool.

---

After some time traveling together, Ronin-san still maintains that air of skittishness and almost feral quality, but begins speaking a bit. Monosyllabics, incomplete sentences and a lot of mumbling, mostly in response to things Arataka says, but also to gently teach Mob this or that. Fixing an engine, navigating by the stars. Arataka may not like it, but he didn’t stop Ronin-san from teaching Mob to load a gun, mostly because Ronin-san had good gun safety habits and Arakata doesn’t have the stomach to be the one to hand a weapon to Mob.  

Ronin-san is also the one to confirm Arataka’s time travel hypothesis while also proving to be much older than Arataka first believed (after Ronin-san cut his hair and beard; Mob thinks that this apparent youthfulness is a side-effect of Ronin-san’s brand of ESP) and ruining Arataka’s faith in humanity in the process, because it’s been, like, at most 50 years since he and Mob went to the convenience store and stepped on a wormhole on the way back to the office, and society already collapsed this much.

Arataka is blaming it on those zombie apocalypse movies giving people weird ideas of what survival is supposed be like.

---

They get attacked one day as they rest at the edge of what Ronin-san calls the Powder Lakes. They try to avoid any confrontation at all, but once they are spotted, they are chased by what Arataka now understands to be a hunting party, one with the feared flaming skull displayed proudly on every vehicle.

In the end they are outnumbered, outgunned and outrun, but it still feels a little bit unfair when Mob subdues the skull people.

At that point they could run away, but Arataka stops to talk, in part because talk is what he does the best, and in part because these skull people are just so painfully young. Scarred and hungry, under that white paint and feverish viciousness, those boys are just that, boys. A good part of them about Mob’s age, the oldest may be 20 if Arataka is feeling generous.

It helps a lot that they are a bunch of fanatic followers of some death cult, because they don’t waste time in gladly and zealously telling Arataka about what he is setting against, so he doesn’t really need to ask them anything. And it also helps that they are, well, boys and easily impressed by flashy displays of cool psychic powers.

It is, in the end, a bit like talking with Claw members, except now Arataka is more conscious about the very real danger of the situation and he is not dealing with adults that should know better. He doesn’t get to convince them to renounce their Inmortan and Vahalla, but now they are listening to him because Mob listens to him and Mob is Very Strong, and they are now chattering to him, because they are teenagers and like to be heard and the attention.

Ronin-san is terribly uncomfortable with the situation and the curiosity directed to him, but Mob has desensitised him to having a rapt audience, so he just grunts and ignores questions, and steps aside to maintain his personal space, instead of shooting at them and bolting into the desert when they poke curiously at him.

At some point, a particularly responsible voice among the pack reminds the rest that they should return to the Citadel, this prompts a round of complaining and then some inspired soul suggests that Arataka, Mob and Ronin-san should go with them to meet the Inmortan, a proposal meet with excitement and enthusiasm and general approval.

Ronin-san is even more uncomfortable with this development and Arataka would have understood if he decided to get away while he could, but apparently being near another person who can also see his ghosts (and act as a buffer to them) wins in the end, and so Ronin-san just sighs and sticks closer to Mob.

---

timeline notes: in an attempt to make the original trilogy and Fury Road (FR) co-exist within a same timeline, using canon day counts and the 15 years gap between Road Warrior (RW)  and Beyond Thunderdome (BT), I made Max some 10 years older than the re-boot makes him be and 10 years younger than the original timeline proposes, so he is in his mid-forties.

Now, we know that the Citadel has a day count of about 32 years) as told by Max’s blood bag tattoo) and Furiosa was stolen 19 years ago. Max was 23 in the first movie (MM), 26 in RW and 41 in BT, I chose FR to happen 4 years after because reasons, so he is 45. This means that Furiosa was stolen around the time RW happened, and I calculate she was between 15 and 20.

If we suppose that the citadel day count starts from the day they settled, it can be before complete societal collapse (canonicaly it happens around RW) and the apocalypse (aka the desertification and receding of the ocean) doesn’t have to happen at once (and the comics completely ruin my timeline, so I’m cherry picking them). Hand-waving it, there was people at the Citadel before Joe arrived, so the count belongs to these people and Joe adopted it so it appears he has been in power for longer, Furiosa was kidnaped around the time they conquered the Citadel.

I’m proposing that the Oil wars were really long and ended a bit after MM, because there was no countries left to fight. The war started, officially, when Max was around 10, so he remembers Before, as society and infrastructure collapsed around him; people settled at the Citadel 2 years into the war, when Max was 12. The Vuvalini, being smart women, settled in the Green Place (it used to be a farm) in the first year of the war (they saw the conflict brewing for years and where a bunch of solar-punk preppers trapped in a diesel-punk scenario), either Furiosa was born as the war started or a few years before.

(Yes, the summary is a 45 years from next Wednesday reference. Yes, it was my intention to make Max be 45. Yes, Reigen miscalculated how much they time-travelled by 5 years. It is because I’m extra like that.)

The Old Lady thinking they are from Sydney thing contradicts the fact that apparently in BT is stated people flighted from Sydney early in the apocalypse, let’s just pretend that there is always a rumour in the wastes that the military has everything under control in Sydney.

[docholligay]

I just really like the way you write DVa as kind of a brat but also maybe secretly nice? And honestly love the way you write all the female characters, so -- girls' night out featuring DVa maybe. (Note that Tumblr thinks putting a period in DVa's name makes it a URL and won't let me send the ask that way THANKS TUMBLR)

THANK YOU I LOVE TENDER BRAT HANA SONG.  about 1,000 words, whole OW verse is here

“You coming along, or what?” Tracer poked her head into D.Va’s room. “Waiting on you.” She cocked her head.  “Cute outfit, love.”

D.va turned away from the mirror and smirked. “Coming from you, I think I should change.”

Tracer looked unimpressed. “I’ll ‘ave you know there’s a good many women who think I’m absolutely adorable, just as I am.”

D.Va snickered and looked at Tracer’s purple and blue paisley shirt, poking out of the top of a mustard v-neck sweater. “Are you joking?”

Tracer leaned against her doorframe. “Why just last week, I was in the grocery, and this girl comes to me, and she says--”

“Do you know where the milk is?” D.Va laughed at her own joke and picked up a satin pink jacket. “Let’s go.”

It had been 3 months since Pharah and Tracer had sat in D.Va’s living room, trying to convince her to join Overwatch as she chewed on a bag of shrimp chips. She had done it, after a long conversation with her mother and father about nobility and her exceptional talent and the good of not only Korea, but the world. It was an honor, they had said.

It was like getting an extra family, D.va had observed, in ways good and bad.

Pharah and Mercy were waiting at the bottom of the stairs, matching in that non-matching way they often did, Pharah’s deep blue that she favored so well brilliantly contrasted with the deep green of Mercy’s dress.

D.Va herself was a bit louder than the couple she privately thought of as the old married gays, in a bright turquoise dress that contrasted with her hot pink silk jacket and the purple bow in her hair.

Tracer jumped behind her and slid down the banister, landing at Pharah’s feet in a triumphant leap. “All right then!” She called over to the living room. “Win, you sure you don’t want to come along? Shame to ‘ave you ‘ere alone.”

Winston looked up from his book. “No, Lena, I don’t want to go to a lesbian bar with you.” He laughed. “Thank you, though.”

“Ates to witness the magic of me own personal charms, ‘e does.” She nodded knowingly to the girls.

“Yes, Lena, that’s definitely it.” Winston called over from the living room. “Have a good time. Don’t do anything too stupid.”

“Think you mean don’t do anyONE too stupid, love.” She giggled.

“Lena.”

“Right, right, right,” she waved, “noted! Love you, see you soon, alright let’s go,” she bounced across the parlor, tucking her hair behind her ear repeatedly, “feel as if I’m forgetting something, but,” She wrinkled her nose,”not entirely sure what that might be. Do you think we’ll stop for food on the way ‘ome? I ought to have something for that, I think, but then again, I think I have me card and if I don’t forget it at the club again--”

Pharah pushed her out the door with one hand, keeping her other around Mercy.

_____

There was something D.Va had always appreciated about the feeling of a club, the way the music and the lights let you escape, even before you took a drink. She found she needed it little, the pulse of bodies around her enough to take her away, the feeling of a woman touching her shoulder electric in the buzz of the lights.

It was times like this she forgot about everything that had happened in Korea. She forgot that she was a soldier, that she was a legend, that she was anything but Hana Song, a 19 year old girl who loved bright colors and fun clothes and dancing with girls and dancing with boys and dancing with everyone.

On the dance floor, she was just her.

Mercy caught her by the arm. “Are you enjoying?” She seemed concerned, always, for D.Va’s happiness with the group--D.Va had noticed that Mercy even more than most seemed strengthened by the family link of her team.

D.Va nodded to her. “Music isn’t bad. I’m surprised.” It wasn’t the kind of stuff Lucio played in the larger clubs, but then again, this was not one of the larger clubs, and so she was simply grateful that it wasn’t awful.

Mercy smiled brightly as Pharah came up behind her and wound her arms around her, kissing her on the neck and nuzzling against her cheek.

She laughed. “Fareeha, I am having, “ she gave an air of mock seriousness, “a conversation.”

“If it is not with me, it can’t be so important,” She kissed Mercy again. “I have requested some music for us.”

D.Va laughed and rolled her eyes as “Heaven is a Place on Earth” came onto the speakers. Old people.

She looked around as the generational makeup of the floor changed. Where was Tracer? She usually delighted in this kind of thing. She delighted in almost everything, and she was impossible to tire out, so it didn’t seem likely that she was taking a break.

She wandered off the dance floor, unsure herself why she was so curious. The shit Tracer got up to on a Saturday night in a lesbian bar was none of D.Va’s business, really. And she had plenty of her own matters to attend to, if you could call it that.

Maybe it was just irritation that someone wearing a literal light on their chest would be so hard to find for a lifelong soldier.

And in that thought, she caught it, the light blue glow of Tracer’s CA in the corner of the bar, bouncing slightly like a firefly in the night.

She sure as hell wasn’t resting, and D’va laughed to herself for a minute, and turned around to go back to the dance floor. Then a thought hit her, and she turned to the corner again.

D.Va looked over at Tracer, in the corner, kissing a girl deeply. The woman was blended into the shadows effortlessly, and she could only make out a dim outline. She squinted harder, and then realized why it was so hard to see her. Why she could only make her out in the light of Tracer’s CA.

The woman’s skin was purple.

[imagine-this-hq]

Kageyama, Tsukishima, Oikawa, Kenma and Suga baking cookies for Christmas (headcanons on how they would turn out, etc)

frieeeeeeeeeeeend, let’s do this ~ Dree

Kageyama:

This beautiful blueberry is in love with milk, I mean!!! We all know that Dree! Tell us something juicier!

He’s so in love with milk that your cookies turn out to be milkier and sweeter than expected.

Neither of you mind though

This way, you won’t have to serve milk with your cookies anymore

Well… you thought you wouldn’t have to serve milk….

Kageyama still dunks his milky cookies in milk claiming that it tastes better that way

You can never have too much milk!!!!

Tsukishima:

He doesn’t bake.

The most helpful he can be while baking cookies is telling you the instructions or telling you that you didn’t measure the sugar properly

Expect the occasional criticism of the recipe

“Y/N it says ¾ cup of sugar. Why do we need so much sugar? We’re going to get diabetes or something.”

“Kei, cookies are supposed to be swe-”

“oh… look at that… we need another ¾ cup of sugar… who made this recipe? It was that shrimp wasn’t it?”

The time to make the cookie dough feels longer than it should but the cookie cutting is the best part

Akiteru comes in the kitchen just when you were about to shape the cookies

“You’re making cookies? Wait… I think Kei’s old cookie cutters are around here somewhere…”

You serve dinosaur-shaped strawberry-flavored cookies for dessert

Oikawa:

The moment you bring up baking Christmas cookies, you saw Oikawa’s eyes light up as bright as the lights on the Christmas tree.

He saw sooooo many movies where the couple bakes cookies or cake for the first time and he’s so excited to bake with you

It’s not as fun as either of you expected it to be…

For one, Oikawa keeps eating the chocolate chips

Every time you swat his hand away from the goodies, he just tickles your sides until you scream mercy

Somehow, he ends up with eggs in his hair and, let me tell you, it’s not a fun experience to wash off eggs from your hair. The sticky feeling it gives is already a pain in the neck

He tried throwing flour at you to start a food fight….

Yeah… I wouldn’t go there if I were you… think of the clean up *shivers*

“Y/N-chaaaaaaan!!!!! You’re supposed to throw flour at me baaaaaack!!! It happens in the movies!!!”

“Tooru… I am not cleaning up a flour explosion in the kitchen. Besides, my parents would kill me.”

“You’re no fun.”

You sigh in exasperation “If I let you cut the cookies into aliens, will you stop your sulking and help me finish?”

Needless to say, you two eat aliens for the rest of the day.

Kenma:

Baking cookies with Kenma was as quiet and peaceful as you would expect it to be.

Sure, Kuroo was there for the first few minutes but once he’s gone… you two are a fluff fest

It’s like the two of you are in sync with each other as you move around the kitchen!

He gives you small smiles every time he passes by you and you give him pecks on the cheek or whatever is closest when you pass by him

Really, Kuroo would be all over the two of you if he saw you right now.

He doesn’t really care what flavor the cookies are so you just settle with plain to make things easier

You were going to jokingly ask if he was up for pudding-flavored cookies but he shot that suggestion down as soon as you opened your mouth

“No. We can make any flavor you want but if we’re having pudding-flavored, we might as well not bake at all.”

He kissed your pout away, causing you to coo at how adorably his red cheeks were.

I don’t really know what else to say but that you two were as sweet as strawberry

Suga:

I’m pretty sure a lot of people headcanon Suga as the best in the kitchen…. I’m part of those people

You practically don’t have to do anything in the kitchen

Actually, you don’t want to. Seeing Suga in the kitchen is like seeing God at work. It was beautiful.

You felt as if you were going to mess up his beauty if you even thought of helping him bake.

So you just sat at the kitchen table and watched him in his seemingly natural habitat.

It wasn’t until he started adding the extracts did you realize he was planning to make different cookies.

“I’m baking cookies for the team. I think they deserve some treats with how far we’ve gone.” He grinned at you as soon as he saw your confused expression.

It was really sweet of him to go that far.

You walked over to him and kissed his cheek which was now turning redder by the second. He grinned at you and said that he should do this more often to get kisses.

When the cookies were finished baking, he brought out the frosting he made and the piping tool

He was creating a masterpiece

Well… masterpieces

He was carefully frosting the cookies to look like the boys in the team and three girls. You knew that two of them were Yachi and Kiyoko. It wasn’t until later that you realized the other one was you.

“Awww!!! Now I can’t eat your cookie! It’s a tiny me! I’m not gonna eat a tiny me!”

He smiled at you “But it’s a tiny me made with my love.”

Needless to say, your cheeks were redder than Suga’s were

The other members of Karasuno had the same sentiment as you when Suga gave them their cookies.