#literally me as stand here putting ingredients in a pot

[pathetichimbos]

First Meeting - Part Six

((part five here))

Thomas Hewitt/GN!Reader

tagslist: @goodiesinthecloset21 @shykoolade @strawb3rry-gal @ktssstuff @theclownbaby0 @leah-halliwell92 @lost-in-the-fiction-like-ur-mom @aleracrovn @dreamybxnny @dij-ology @todorokitantrum

---

You've run away from home, hitchhiking around Texas as you come up with your next plan, only to find that life has plans of its own when a simple ride with a group of friends lands you at a lone gas station in Travis County, drawn to a mysterious man most seem to avoid.

---

There isn't much left to do, considering you got most of the prep done earlier in the day, so the only real thing left to do is cook the meat and make the broth.

She takes the lead, putting the meat on to cook and having you grind it down and stir it as she adds several seasonings and the onions to the much too large pot.

It's obvious she's comfortable in the kitchen, confident in her choices with no second guesses, each ingredient she adds done with a precision and assuredness that tells you she's spent most of her life in the kitchen.

She cooks the meat down to a simmer before she begins to add in the broth, carefully working the stew together as you lean on the counter next to the big bowl of vegetables you previously cut.

"...Where'd you learn this recipe?" You ask, watching her work and waiting for your next task to be given.

"My grandmama taught me long time ago, when I was much younger than you." She explains, stirring the broth as she gestures for the bowl of vegetables, "She taught me most of everythin' I know."

You hand her the bowl, "Sounds like a nice lady."

"She was." Luda Mae sighs, adding the vegetables into the pot, "Grab me the cornstartch from that cabinet there."

You go to the cabinet she points to and grab the cornstarch, handing it to her. She drops some in a bowl, adding a bit of water to it, mixing it until it's thick.

"...My Mama never taught me much of anything." You confess, though you're not entirely sure why, "I never knew my grandmama either..."

"My Mama didn't teach me nothin' either." Luda Mae shakes her head, adding a bit of the slurry to the pot, "Didn't care much to."

"I'm guessing she wasn't as nice as your grandmama?"

"She was meaner than a junkyard dog, ran off one day when I was a teenager and I never saw her again. My grandmama always told me she drowned, but I was never too sure if that was literal or not."

"What do you mean?"

Luda Mae sighs again, stirring the large pot, "I can't remember a time she loved her children more than her liqour. She was sooner to have a bottle of whiskey in hand than touch a bottle of milk."

You cross your arms, eyes focused on the pot, "...I can understand what that's like."

You don't say much else after that, idly standing by and helping when she needed it, watching her work and making small comments every now and again.

It doesn't take long for the sound of a car pulling in the driveway to drive you upstairs, back in the solitude of the barren bedroom.

You can hear Hoyt come in hollering for help with carrying the groceries in, the previously quiet house now filled with noise and life.

You sit on the floor again, sighing in relief at the feeling of clean clothes on clean skin, your hair still damp from your shower earlier.

There wasn't a feeling quite like it, and you forgot how amazing it was after going almost two months with one or two half washes in lakes and creeks.

You stand up after a moment, brushing off your legs and shorts, before pulling the covers back on the bed. You cringe, seeing the dirt and grime you left the previous night, not wanting to sleep in it now that you were finally clean. You look around for a moment, spotting the extra blanket Thomas had left on the dresser.

You pull the blanket off completely now, tossing it to the bedroom door, letting it pile against the floor. You grab the fresh blanket, hesitating when you see how dirty the sheets still were.

You hang the blanket on the bedframe, deciding to search the closet to see if Thomas had any extra sheets in his closet.

It wasn't a big closet by any means, with a few clean, never before stained clothes hanging up. You spot the clean, light blue sheets on the top shelf, just barely out of reach.

You stand on your toes, reaching as high as you can, grabbing the edge and pulling. The sheets come tumbling down, knocking against the clothes as you barely catch them.

You hesitate, wondering if you made too much noise, but quickly realize Hoyt was being much too loud below you to notice any noise you made.

You shut the closet door, setting the now messily folded sheets on the dresser before pulling the old ones off the bed. You set them beside the bedroom door with the blanket, opting just to flip your pillowcase inside out since you didn't find any of those.

You spend way too long trying to make the bed, each corner of the fitted sheet fighting against you as you try not to let the bedframe bang against any of the walls.

You drop on the bed when you finish, groaning into the pillow out of pure frustration. Sure, being homeless you could handle, but making a bed? That was apparently out of your skill set.

After a few moments of self pity, you shut off the main light in favor of the floor lamp beside the bed, crawling under the covers and curling into your corner of the bed, continuing to read your book.

It's a couple hours before Thomas comes up, the sun just starting to set as he makes his way in.

You look up from your book, seeing he's already taken the liberty to change into his pajamas.

"Hi." You watch as he sits on the bed, taking notice of the new sheets, "I hope you don't mind, I found them in the closet."

He shakes his head, rubbing his hand over the cotton fabric before climbing under the covers nexts to you.

He looks over, seeing you have the same, old book sitting open in your lap, your hand resting on one of the pages to hold your place.

He reaches over, tapping against the side with a questioning look.

"My book?" You ask, blinking a couple of times before closing it and handing it over to him, "Go ahead, I've read it a million times."

He hesitates, carefully looking over the faded cover, running his calloused fingers over the worn spine in such a gentle manner you'd think he was handling something meaningful.

You rest your head on your knees, watching as he nervously opens the book with the same cautiousness one might treat a wild animal.

His eyebrows furrow as starts to read, finger slowly running under each word slowly and carefully, and you can see the confusion in his brown eyes as he struggles.

You watch him try and reread the same sentence three times before reaching a hand out, gently resting on his wrist, "...Are you having trouble reading?"

He sighs, setting the book down with a shameful nod, too embarrassed to meet your gaze.

"Hey, that's okay. A lot of people can't read all that well, no worries," You carefully pull the book from his grasp, moving closer to his side, "Here, I'll read it to you."

He's caught off guard by your sudden offer, but makes no move to stop you.

You open the book, setting it down so half rests on his leg and the other on yours, your finger tracing under the words as you begin to read.

His eyes follow along carefully, sometimes stopping you to tap at a word when he doesn't know it's meaning, your voice calming as he listens carefully.

By the end of the first chapter, he's relaxed against your side, head resting on your shoulder as you read each word carefully, doing your best to bring the story to life.

You're not sure how long the two of you stay awake, reading the book with the company of the crickets and the moonlight, but the silence of the first floor slowly creeping through the floorboards tells you everyone has gone to bed, and the height of the moon warns you the late hours will soon become early.

You fail to hold back another yawn, blinking wearily as you continue reading, the words beginning to blend together on the worn pages.

You don't particulary remember falling asleep, but the next thing you're consiously aware of is the soft light of the rising sun peaking through the window.

You can feel the bed shift as you groan, curling in on yourself and burying yourself deeper into the warmth of the bed, not ready to face the world quite yet.

You feel yourself begin to drift this time, your mind swirling with the chaotic nonsense of a half-asleep brain trying to dream.

The images dart around, blurry and fast as you try to balance yourself in an unreal situation.

It's dizzying, the heat of your lungs burning a hole through your chest, choking on the air you needed to breathe.

The humidity cages you in, the space around you closing in, your own skin too tight against your body as all too familiar, blood curdling screams swallow any sense of sanity you're supposed to have.

“No, no, please, let us go!”

“God, why me? Why us, God, why–”

“Please, please, let me go, please-”

The bed is hot when you wake, choking on your own air as you sit up, covering your mouth to quiet your coughs.

Your eyes are wide as you stare ahead, keeping your mouth covered through the deep breaths you're taking.

A buzz rests deep in your bones, your mind vibrating with a dissociative tune, and it takes you a few minutes to remember you're actually real.

You let out a shaky sigh, rubbing your face as you regain control of yourself, the nightmare already mostly forgotten as your mind continues waking up.

The sun rests high in the sky, beating down on you through the dusty glass of the window, letting the feeling of the suffocating heat sting your skin.

You take another deep breath, finally registering the sound of voices carrying through the house as you let your head hang in your hands.

The faint smell of an already cooked breakfast tells you it's still morning, but the height of the sun gives way that it's later, perhaps almost noon.

You crawl to the edge of the bed, taking a seat as the hazy fog in your mind begins to clear.

Hoyt's voice still carries through the house, telling you that you'd be stuck in the bedroom for a while longer.

It's strange, hiding from a man in his own home, but Thomas keeps you hidden from him for a reason, and that's enough to keep your footsteps quiet as you stand to make the bed, the shake in your limbs slowly fading away as the panic subsides.

You're not sure if it's the remanents of the forgotten nightmare or the anxiety of being almost trapped in this home, but you can't seem to stop your mind from running wild as you pull the blanket back.

What happens when Hoyt finds out?

That question leads nothing but more anxiety and contemplation, making your head spin.

How long do you plan to stay here? How long do they plan to let you? How long do you have before you're thrown back out to the streets with nothing more than a bag of dirty clothes and an old book to your name?

Your head begins pounding with the migraine you're giving yourself as you pull the sheet taunt against the bed you've slept in for the last two nights.

You swallow, mind drifting back to the first night you stayed here.

"S-T-A-Y."

The memory of Thomas' words tingle against your palm, and it presents you with a new question.

Would they ever let you leave?

[i984]

I Love You- Wait, What?

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader

|Warnings|: THIS IS CRACK, Ooc! Wednesday Addams, author kind of gave up on writing after the third perspective shift, honestly this fic is just a joke at this point, potion works weirdly here, stupid love confessions, panicked but low-key high! Wednesday Addams.

|Summary|: You ruin everything for Wednesday Addams, be it sleeping peacefully or good potion-making.

|A/n|: This might as well be titled "I Gave Up on Quality" with the pairing of Wednesday x @vorsdany . I am really sorry but also not really. I promise I write better fics than this.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A moron.

That's what you are.

"No, I'm pretty sure I put in the right stuff. Snake fangs and then lavender, right?" You scratched at your back while stretching your sore body as carefully as possible.

With the cauldron, textbooks, parchments, and various ingredients scattered across Wednesday's dorm room floor, you're pretty sure the girl will smack your head if you spill the potion in the making the second time.

Wednesday pointed at the procedure text in hand; you sighed as you leaned forward to read. Okay. Great. So you managed to mess up not only the order but also the name of the ingredients. 

"Snake tail? Well- You know what? I can't help you make this mystery potion if you don't tell me what it's for."

"You were the one who insisted on being a nuisance, might I remind you," Wednesday scoffed as she crossed her arms, brows coming together at the disaster liquid filling the pot.

The potion glows a wine color, its light casting a shadow on the ravenette's tired face; the dark bags underneath her eyes compliment her overall corpse-like look. You wouldn't worry because somehow this appearance works a charm for her, except her behaviors have also resembled the living dead. 

"Well, it's because you look like you can use some help-"

"I do not need help, especially not from you." 

Wednesday didn't even look up as she said it, nose buried deep in whatever book she was reading. Why do you even bother to put up with her at this point?

"Fine! I'm leaving, then." No response. 

If she is going to act like you don't exist, you might as well sabotage her top-secret project. Hands swiftly switching the marked lids of two flower jars—white periwinkle and phlox—you stand up and make your way across the room, heading for the door.

"Good luck, Wens." You throw her an open smirk you know she won't see before exiting the room.

You can't wait to see her fail.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Wednesday lets her body slump as soon as the sound of your footsteps recedes to nothing. The past week has been... restless. And she meant that quite literally. For some reason, her past vision invades her mind when she tries to subdue her consciousness.

With her eyes closed, the picture was as blinding as it is irritating, like daylight to her pitch-black heart. 

It always started with a smile—that annoying smug one—plastered on a face she knew too well for her own liking. And then, echoes of laughter would haunt her, taunt her.

She hasn't let it go farther than that. She couldn't. If Wednesday is going insane, it'll be from the intense torture she befalls upon herself. Not from such unwelcomed twisted imageries that plague her mind.

"Descendamus somno sempiterno, donec corpus e carcere reviviscat." Wednesday speaks in her best Latin, fingers trembling as they throw the right ingredients into the cauldron. 

She watches the liquid turn colorless—a telltale sign that it's successful—and sighs in relief. 

Finally, her sleeping potion is ready.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You turn your head to the sound of a familiar booming voice calling your name across the cafeteria. Enid, the werewolf, approaches you with a daunting look on her face. How unusual.

"No bone-crushing hugs today?"

No response. Why is everybody ignoring your words?

"Something is really wrong with Wednesday."

You huff at her while you take a seat. "Really? Because I'm pretty sure she just kicked me out of your room half an hour ago." You grab a brownie from your plate and take a bite out of it. "That seemed pretty normal to me."

Enid raises her eyebrow at you knowingly. "Well, what did you do?"

"Nothing!"

A couple of heads turn both your ways. Suddenly, the ceiling looks very interesting. You can see Enid waving dismissively at the crowd from your peripherals. Face contorting in an apologetic look, you take another bite from your brownie.

"Anyway, she told me my sweater looks like a lunatic splattered their guts on it."

The piece of cake dropped off your mouth. "That means she's into your sweater," Enid raised her eyebrows speculatively as she handed you a tissue, "Did she just give you a compliment?" 

"As a matter of fact, yes I did." 

You and Enid jump at the chilling voice from behind you. 

"Dude! You scared the heck out of me," you turn your head to see Wednesday holding a glass of red liquid. She looked drowsy—subdued almost.

"First of all, never call me 'dude' ever again," the ravenette seated beside you groggily, "and second of all, I thought I made a point that fear feeds my entertainment needs."

"Oh yeah, I forgot you do that-"

You take a pause. Enid immediately notices the look on your face.

"What? What's wrong?" The werewolf asked you in a hushed tone. The raven watches as she takes a sip of her drink.

"Did you just- Did she just-" You pull away from Wednesday in disbelief, "reply to the things I say?"

The girl in question only raises her eyebrow at you, the glass of pomegranate juice resting on her now red-stained lips. Then her brows slowly meet in the middle again, perfectly mirroring her look from earlier. 

The glass produces a thud as Wednesday puts it down on the table. You and Enid share a look with each other. A concerned look. One of you has got to say something right now, and you aren't going to be the one to do it.

The sentiment is shared apparently because the blonde also has her mouth trapped shut.

Clankings of dishes. Chatter comes from the crowds. The room was far from silent, but for some reason, it was as if everybody was waiting for Wednesday's response. The tension thickens in the air as the girl turns to look at you, despair etched in her features.

"I need your help." 

You take the last bite out of your brownie. The sweetness resembles something of a victory.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

There must be something wrong with the potion; Wednesday figured out as much. She expected that after the drowsiness took over and her heartbeat slowed, she'd finally be able to shut her mind and get some much-needed rest.

But it was the opposite; while her muscles may have relaxed, the images flashed through her brain with newfound intensity. 

The smug smile, the laughter that resembled screeching metal chains, the mischievous twinkle in those eyes- Oh, how those eyes dragged her feet through the corridors of Ophelia hall. 

Nothing made sense anymore; Wednesday needed to find the source of her madness and stop whatever is happening at the very core.

She needs to stop you. 

But not before throwing Enid a merry compliment along the way and giving Eugene a preposterous nickname.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Bee Man? That's what you came up with?" You're almost rolling on Wednesday's dorm room floor, hands coming to clutch your contracting stomach; if Wednesday doesn't kill you now, the laughter certainly will.

"Yes, but can we please focus on the task at hand?" The ravenette clenched her jaw, "You're supposed to be helping me find the problem with the potion-"

Boisterous cackles cut through Wednesday's words, and you swear you can see fumes coming out of her ears. "-not to laugh at a genuine, original nickname."

"Yes, but he asked you to give him a nickname and BEE MAN-" you wheeze uncontrollably, eyes tearing up at the absurdity of it.

If you knew changing one ingredient would've given you a very talkative and silly Wednesday Addams, you would've done so during potion class ages ago.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you what I did," you take a deep breath, hands coming to pick up one of the vials containing water-like liquid; eyes scanning the mystery messed up serum.

"But, only if you answer my questions first."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Wednesday was ready to whip out a dagger to your neck and make a new potion from scratch, but without identifying the real problem, she'd risk committing the same mistake again.

After all, she'd been meticulous in following the instructions. So it couldn't have been a mistake on her part.

Begrudgingly, she nods, bracing herself for whatever question you may throw her.

You flashed her a teasing smirk, and Wednesday could've sworn it was almost identical to the ones that haunted her every time she so much closed her eyes. A mere coincidence. That's all that is.

"All right, question number one," you cleared your throat before resuming, "Pineapple on pizza, yes or no?"

This threw Wednesday off. And as if you could read her mind, you added a quick, "and no, there's no significance to these questions. Just answer them as is."

Recalling the intense debate Enid has dragged her in with Yoko in the past, she thanked her roommate internally for the fact that the werewolf has basically force-fed her the food.

A simple 'yes' slides out Wednesday's mouth, and you move on to the second question—still with that annoying smirk plastered on your face.

"The second question. Mint chocolate ice cream for dessert, yay or nay?"

"Yes."

"Beep-boop, that's not the proper answer to my question. You have two more chances of getting this correct!"

Wednesday feels her face scrunch in exasperation, "I thought you said there's no signi-"

"One more chance until you're disqualified! Please choose your words carefully," you wiggled your eyebrows at her, and it took everything in Wednesday not to smash the spare potion vial at your face.

"Yay. The answer is yay." 

"Yay, indeed!" you make a grand gesture by lifting your hands in the air, "Onto the next question. Which one do you put in first; cereal or milk-"

"Milk. It's milk. Next question please."

"Ohoho, eager are we?" you stand up and grab the textbook Wednesday had used earlier for the potion-making instruction. Now Wednesday has all her attention on you, eyes narrowing in laser focus as anticipation for your upcoming words.

"Finally! The most important question of this compatibility test, and no matter your answer, I'll tell you what you desire to hear most!" 

Your fingers tap and dance on the book's cover—imitating the sound of drumrolls—and Wednesday almost mauled you then and there if not for your question;

"You, Wednesday Friday Addams, have a crush on me, yes or no?"

The ravenette surprisingly sinks in an internal debate at this.

Just say no. It wouldn't matter. You'll know why the sleeping potion doesn't work after this. Just say no. What is stopping you? It's so easy. The answer is no. Just say-

"Yes, I do." 

What?

No, no, no, no. This can't be. Correct yourself. Say-

"I do have a crush on you."

The book you're holding dropped to the floor. Wednesday looks up to see your mouth gaping, eyes darting all over her face as if you're looking for a sign of her joking. 

But there was none. There was just a surprised look shared between the two of you. 

Wednesday quickly grabs her book and flips through the pages hurriedly.

The slip-ups, compliments, and the awful nickname. The love confession. Could it really be?

Wednesday's fingers slowed down as she reached a designated page, her eyes scanning the room to see two almost identical flower jars at the foot of her bed, only differentiated by a label stuck on the lid.

And when Wednesday caught your guilty face looking at it like her, she knew.

White Periwinkle and Phlox. The two kinds of flower that are similar in appearance but differ significantly as ingredients of a potion.

"A truth potion," You both breathed out into the room.

And you look at Wednesday; she's looking at you. 

"So it's true then?" The shakiness in your voice surprised the two of you, forcing you to clear your throat for the second time in her room.

"It is what it is," Wednesday tears her gaze away from yours to the book in hand, covering her flushed face with the extent of her bangs.

"Unless we managed to mess up the truth potion too, then maybe-"

"No, no, no, no, because," you drop to the ground and kneel at the space in front of her, hands hurriedly opening the vial containing the liquid that had started it all. Wednesday panically looks at you now, and you smile at her before chugging the whole thing down.

"I have a crush on you, too."

And there it is in all your glory; bright smug smile, childish laughter, and mischievous eyes. It finally clicked for Wednesday that you—yes, you—are her eternal living nightmare. She'll make sure you pay the price for all her sleepless nights. 

And it's not gonna be cheap.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

|A/n2|: I really am genuinely sorry, I promise I'll do better next time.

[bitchin-beskar]

Interrupted

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: College!Athlete!Roommate!Paz Vizsla x Fem!Reader (Bunny)

Warnings: Whoo boy there’s a few. SMUT. I feel like I shouldn’t have to say that, but this is basically ALL smut. Free use agreement, and talk relating to that. [BC THIS IS FREE USE, EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS BETWEEN PAZ AND READER IS CONSENSUAL. THERE IS NO NON-CON HERE]. Choking, biting, dirty talk, fingering, some rather rough fucking, creampie, slight dumbification (affectionate) (ex: being fucked stupid), mostly clothed sex, reader is called “good girl”, praise kink, aftercare, post-sex cuddles. Mixture of fluff and smut, but some parts of this got kinda yearning/angsty, so I do apologize. Semi-bittersweet/yearning ending. Idk if I got it all, but that’s the gist.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: So this started as a tiny idea that grew and grew and grew until it proceeded to consume my every waking thought for the past week. (This is all thanks to @maybege, @tailorvizsla, @catsnkooks, and literally anyone else who reblogged/voted/sent in ideas or thots. This is all their fault.)

Mainly, this is a modern day AU in which Paz is a college athlete and your best friend/roommate who you enter into a free use agreement with. (FUN SIDE NOTE: IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT FREE USE MEANS YOU’RE TOO YOUNG TO BE READING THIS. GO AWAY.) 

This was originally intended to be a oneshot. I am now currently plotting a series, so this idea will not be going away any time soon. Please feel free to come yell at me in my dm’s or inbox about this! I welcome the thots! 

I hope you enjoy! Please lemme know what you think, I’d really appreciate it!

Paz had to fight back a groan at the sight of you, standing there in the kitchen as you worked on finishing the dishes from making dinner that night. You’d prepared some kind of casserole, which was currently baking in the oven, and you stood at the sink with the water running as you washed the pots you’d used to prepare the ingredients.

The whole apartment smelt incredible, but that wasn’t the only thing making Paz’s mouth water. You were dressed in what had to be one of his old training shirts, considering how it hung on your frame. The neckline was slipping off one shoulder, the sleeves came almost to your elbows, and the hem of the shirt brushed against your thighs, hiding the swell of your ass. He couldn’t tell if you were wearing shorts underneath the shirt or not.

Fuck, he hoped you weren’t.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, but that was about to change. He didn’t bother waiting for you to finish, he didn’t have the patience for that. He’d dropped his hockey bag and gear in the foyer and toed off his shoes and socks, so it was on bare feet that he padded silently across the tile floor of the kitchen to press the length of his body against your back, his large hands coming up to grip your waist and pull you back against him.

You started violently, dropping the pan you’d been washing back into the soapy water with a shriek, and he couldn’t help but lean down to bury his chuckle into the curve of your neck. Your hands reached out to shut off the water and you hmph’d loudly, even as you sank back into his embrace.

“Gods, Paz, you couldn’t give me some warning?” You bemoaned, your tone one of tired exasperation, likely from the fact that this was an argument you had almost every day–sometimes even multiple times a day. “Bells. I’m gonna put bells on you, I swear.” 

Paz smirked, baring his teeth, and nipping playfully at the sensitive skin on your neck as his hands began to roam, enjoying the way you squirmed in his grasp. It was damn near impossible for you to stay mad at him, and he took advantage all the time, like the asshole he was. 

“Where’s the fun in that, bunny?”

You sighed in a way that told Paz you were rolling your eyes, although your sigh kicked up in pitch as one of his hands snuck under the fabric of his shirt to cup your tits, revealing that you were indeed not wearing shorts. His other hand splayed across your belly, palm huge and warm as he pressed your hips roughly back against his. He watched over your shoulder as your soapy, wet fingers curled around the edges of the sink, clearly trying to ground yourself in some way.

His fingers began to pinch at your nipples, switching back and forth so neither was left unattended, the soft breathy sounds escaping you were like a symphony to his ears. You always vocalized so beautifully when he played with the sensitive parts of your body. It had almost become a game to him, to see how many different sounds he could wring from you in one go.

“Paz–” you said, warning clear in your voice, even as he rolled your nipple between two huge fingers. “Paz, we don’t have time–” your voice cut off with a squeak as he nipped harshly at your neck in remonstration.

“What’s the rule, bunny?”

Paz’s voice was a deep rumble in his chest, and you felt it vibrate through your body as well, and you closed your eyes, perhaps in an attempt to block him out. But you and he both knew just how impossible that was. All you could sense was Paz.

And he knew it. Bastard. 

“C’mon, bunny rabbit. What’s our rule? I know you know what it is.”

The hand on your belly had begun to creep downwards, and his fingers were now toying with the elastic on the waistband of your panties. He was absolutely right, as usual. You knew damn well what the rule was, as it was something the two of you had agreed on shortly after beginning your stint as roommates. The whole situation was convoluted as hell, but in the end, it had come down to you not having a way to pay rent in a traditional manner, and Paz’s joking offer had turned to something more serious.

“Paz,” you whined, not sure what exactly you were asking him for. You knew you should be asking him to stop teasing you when dinner was about to be ready, but your body wanted what Paz was promising.

Paz’s hand finally stopped torturing your breast, only to pull out completely from under the shirt and come up to wrap around your throat, his hand so large his fingers easily reached the sides of your neck. He forced your head back, his grip tightening just enough to restrict airflow, but not enough to hurt you, only to prevent you from taking in a full breath. It made your legs go weak. He pressed his lips against your ear, whispering his next words.

“The rule, bunny. Now.”

Your own hands came up to grasp his wrist and forearm, although you made no moves to remove his hand from around your throat. It took you multiple tries to get the words out, but eventually you managed.

“Th-That I let you do whatever you want, when-whenever you want.”

You could feel his lips curling into a wicked smirk against your ear as his fingers tightened just a little bit more and his other hand finally crept past the fabric of your panties to cup your pussy, his middle finger easily slipping between your folds.

 “Good girl.”

You keen loudly as he strokes through your folds, the rough calluses on his hands providing a delicious friction. You were gasping for air as he held you, even as you did your best to try and grind down on his hand between your legs. He kept his tight grip on your neck until you started to see black spots at the edges of your vision, when he abruptly let go. Then, two things happened simultaneously.

First, you sucked in a deep breath, the feeling of your lungs filling with air after being restricted to only shallow breaths euphoric and almost orgasmic in of itself.

Second, you realized his grip on your neck had also been partially holding you up, and without that safety net, you slumped against him, which only pressed your cunt harder against his fingers, sending sparks of sensation shooting up your spine and causing you to cry out in shock and arousal.

Paz lazily slid two of his fingers into your cunt, slowly pumping them in and out as he ground the heel of his hand against your clit. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, and your hands flew to the counter to scrabble for something to ground you, fingers tightening almost painfully on the edges of the sink basin once more. It never mattered how much the two of you did this, it always felt like the first time.

“Are you gonna keep being a good girl for me, bunny? Gonna let me fuck this pretty ‘lil pussy?”

Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, worrying the flesh as you tried to hold back a moan. Paz had discovered how much you loved dirty talk–specifically his dirty talk, and who could blame you, the man had a voice made of sin–and you hadn’t had a moment’s peace since.

Paz nipped at your ear, mostly to bring your focus back to him. “What happened, bunny? Aren’t there any words inside that pretty head of yours? Or am I just being too distracting?” As his voice dropped lower, Paz cupped your tits again, this time over his shirt which added an extra level of friction as he tugged at your nipples. The air whooshed out of your lungs, and you gasped desperately for more as you tried to form a reply that wasn’t just begging him to get on with it and fuck you already.

“Hmm, I guess I don’t really need your permission, do I?” His hand withdrew from your panties, making you let out an involuntary whimper at the loss, your pussy clenching around nothing. You hated the feeling of emptiness now, especially when you knew what it felt like to have him inside you. “After all, you’ll let me do whatever I want, whenever I want. Isn’t that right, bunny?”

Gods, you really should answer him, but you couldn’t seem to make your mouth work. Luckily, Paz wasn’t waiting for an answer, or permission. He stepped back a half step, just enough for him to have enough room to pull his cock free from his pants. He didn’t bother undressing either of you, clearly not patient enough to wait. He simply yanked the fabric of the shirt you were wearing up over your ass and jerked your panties part way down your thighs. With one hand on his cock, he placed the other in the center of your back and bent you over the kitchen sink, groaning as he watched you subconsciously present for him, spreading your legs slightly.

You gasp softly as you feel the head of his cock nudge gently against your slit, swallowing harshly as you feel Paz just stroke your folds with his cock, coating the head in the slick wetness that had begun to pool there. He teased you by slowly beginning to press against your opening, only to back away at the last second.

It felt so good, but it also wasn’t enough. You knew it, and he knew it. Finally, he notched the head of his cock at your entrance, and with just a little bit of pressure, the head of his cock popped in your cunt, and he began to sink into the waiting warmth.

Your mouth fell open, but no sound came out as he began to stretch you with his dick. Paz wasn’t a small man by any estimation, a fact which applied to all of him, as you’d learned when you started this little agreement. No matter how much he used your body, how much he fucked you, it was still a stretch to take him every time. You were always so tight around him, something he loved to praise you for.

“Shit, bunny.” You shuddered at the wrecked sound of his voice. “Shit, shit, shit, you always take me so fucking good.” His hand left the small of your back to grasp at your hip, helping to rock you back so he could sink further into you. His fingers spread wide over your hips and gripped tight, easily controlling the pace as he forced you to take inch after inch. You could feel your legs beginning shake and you were suddenly grateful for the extra support of the kitchen sink, because without it you’d surely be collapsing into a puddle on the tile floor.

After what felt like forever, you finally felt Paz’s hips press flush against your ass as he bottomed out inside your cunt. He held himself still for a moment, his thumb idly brushing against your side as you once more adjusted to the feeling of being stretched and filled. You’d never tell him, but a part of you always ached whenever he wasn’t stuffed as deep inside you as he could get. He’d only tease you, and you’d much rather he spent the time fucking you, especially since you knew one day, you’d have to let this agreement go.

Just as you were becoming adjusted to the sensation of being filled to the brim, and your fingers were starting to uncurl from their death grip on the sink, Paz decided that was the perfect time to move. He pulled his hips back, not enough to leave the warmth of your pussy, but enough that when he thrust back in, his hips slammed against your ass, pushing you up on your tiptoes as he shoved you further into the counter with the force of his thrust. The action punched a choked gasp out of your throat, which only seemed to spur him on as he began to fuck you in earnest.

He never pulled all the way out, preferring to only withdraw part way before burying himself back in your cunt, and the effect of the short, sharp thrusts was devastating. It felt like you couldn’t get enough air into your lungs, every new breath punched out of you by the force of his hips colliding with your ass. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the kitchen, and you felt tears begin to well up in the corner of your eyes as he fucked you like he’d never get the chance again.

He felt so big from this angle, impossibly so. It felt like he was in your throat he filled you so good. It made sense that his favorite position was bending you over random pieces of furniture or planting you on your hands and knees on the bed.

“That’s it,” he grunted, his voice deep and gruff and sending shivers down your spine. “Just take it, bunny. Take it.” You wanted to respond, whether with some smartass comment or a plea for more you weren’t sure since your brain had begun to melt, but you didn’t have enough air in your lungs to form anything other than whimpers and moans.

Those whimpers and moans just about turned to screams when Paz seemingly decided that the leverage he already had wasn’t quite enough, and released your hip with one of his hands, only to reach out and grasp your shoulder, using his new grip on your body to pull you back even harder onto his cock with every thrust of his hips. With this new leverage and the slight change in angle, he began to pummel upon that spot deep inside you that made you see stars, and your eyes began to roll back in your head.

Suddenly, a loud beeping filled the kitchen, and it took you longer than it should to realize the timer was finished on the oven, and that it was time to take the casserole out. It took even longer for your tongue to try and form the words to tell him.

“P-P-Paz,” you stuttered, voice breaking in time with his thrusts. “T-T-The f-f-food!”

His dark chuckle seemed to fill the room, and he somehow, impossibly, picked up the pace, punching little “uh, uh, uh’s” out of your throat with rough thrusts. You were honestly worried about the kitchen sink breaking underneath your grasp.

“I don’t think so, bunny. I’m not finished yet, and neither are you for that matter.” You let out a weak little moan at his words, not quite processing exactly what he was saying, but knowing somehow that he was going to explain it anyways. “Tell you what. If you can tell me the name of the dish you made, I’ll stop and let you take it out of the oven. What do you think bunny? Does that sound fair?” His voice had taken on a kind of condescending tone, and had you had your wits about you, you probably would’ve smacked him for it. As it was, you could barely register the tone, much less the words.

“Well? Do you have an answer, bunny?”

 He suddenly stopped thrusting, letting go of your shoulder in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you upright so that your back was pressed tight against his chest. His nose brushed against the side of your head as he whispered in your ear.

“What’s the name, bunny? Just gotta answer me, that’s all you’ve gotta do.”

Fuck, you had no idea what he was asking you. While he’d stopped thrusting, he was instead choosing to grind his hips into yours, ensuring that you felt every ridge and vein of his cock brushing up against your walls, making your muscles clench and your thighs tremble. There was only one name that was in your mind and making its way past your lips with the state you were in.

“P-Paz?” You muttered, voice quiet and more than a little dazed. He smiled, you could feel it against your neck where he’d begun to place kisses, but it wasn’t a cocky smile like you’d seen him give to fangirls on campus or the news reporters who came to comment on his games and interview the players. No, this was his smile that was just for you, the smile that you saw when he stumbled out of bed in the mornings sore from practice the previous day to see that you’d made him breakfast, or when he came home in a snit, and you didn’t do anything except open your arms to offer a hug. It made a fire burn low in your belly, made you feel as though you’d done something right, something to be proud of, that maybe you were worthy of love and praise.

“That’s it, bunny. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” As he began to thrust again, although at a more sedate pace than before, his free hand left your hip to creep down to your pussy, feeling the way you stretched obscenely around him, his fingers brushing along your sensitive folds, before playing with your swollen clit. “That’s my good girl.”

You preened at his words, and you finally let go of the sink with one hand, to reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair as he continued to lavish kisses on your neck. You desperately wanted to pull his lips to yours, to remind yourself of what he tasted like, but the small part of your brain that wasn’t hazy with pleasure cruelly reminded you that kisses weren’t part of the agreement. Paz was free to do whatever he liked to your body, but kissing wasn’t on the table. It had been your choice, your decision, to try and prevent your heart from fracturing more than it already had. Of course, it probably didn’t matter in the end. You were already in far too deep. You could only hope that when he inevitably found out, he’d throw you a life raft instead of leaving you to drown.

Your attention was quickly brought back to the here and the now as Paz began to circle your clit roughly with his fingers, his hips snapping against yours a little more urgently than before. You realized with a start just how close you were, the way your muscles were beginning to tense up, the way your belly began to tighten, and your thighs began to shake even harder. Paz was clearly close too if his accelerated breathing was any indicator. 

“Are you gonna let me come in this pretty ‘lil pussy, bunny?” He breathed in your ear, the cockiness in his voice just barely covering up the begging in his words. “Gonna let me fill you up like a good girl? Like you deserve?”

Oh, that sounded so good. It was something you and Paz had talked rather seriously about at the start of all this. He’d never made it a secret that he didn’t really enjoy condoms, but he also said they were non-negotiable in all of his relationships, until this whole agreement with you. He’d said it was a mix of trying to prevent pregnancy and avoid STDs, but when the two of you had actually sat down to discuss what all your little roommate agreement would entail, and you’d offered to go on birth control so he could forgo the condoms, he’d been struck dumb for a good minute. You both had gotten tested and had decided to regularly get tested even though you weren’t planning on sleeping with other people at the moment, and the new implant on the market boasted a 100% pregnancy prevention rate since its debut a few years earlier. So, condoms had been nonexistent during your agreement, which had led to the discovery of Paz’s… fixation.

He loved coming inside you. You were pretty sure it was his favorite part of the whole agreement. You knew he wanted kids one day, and you figured the idea of him coming inside you fed into that desire of his. It wasn’t hurting anything, so you’d never discouraged it. In fact, you also enjoyed it a surprising amount, far more than you’d ever expected. With your ex, Parjai, the idea of him fucking you without a condom had always made you squirm, but never with Paz.

You weren’t examining why that was too closely. Nope. Not at all.

A particularly harsh snap of Paz’s hips brought you out of your head and back into the moment. You realized he was waiting for you to answer him, and you nodded your head, not trusting your voice not to break if you tried to answer him verbally.

Paz moaned deeply at your answer, his thrusts picking up the pace as he worked your clit, attempting to get you to come before he did. “Gods, my bunny ‘s so good to me,” he slurred, sounding suspiciously punch-drunk. “Gonna let me fill ‘er up, gonna let me come inside. Gonna lemme fill ‘er so full everyone knows she’s mine.”

You weren’t sure if it was just good timing, or if his words actually pushed you over the edge, but as he growled the word ‘mine,’ the coil snapped and your whole body stiffened up as you came, and you came hard.

Clenching uncontrollably on his cock, you began to tremble even harder in his hold, your legs practically useless. You surely would’ve collapsed if not for Paz. Luckily, his arm was a band of beskar around your waist, and he kept you pressed tight against him as your whole body shook with your orgasm. You figure it was the sensation of your release that triggered his own, and with an almighty growl, he came too, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm as he fulfilled his promise and filled you up.

Every rough, unsteady, uneven jerk of his hips pushed you closer and closer to overstimulation. You were often closer to being overstimulated rather than under-stimulated with the frequency that Paz indulged in your body, and sessions like this only made it worse. Paz seemed to love how shaky you got when you were overstimulated, how much your legs trembled, how broken your breathing sounded. There was a reason he’d made sure you picked a safe word, because when he got in the mood, he wouldn’t stop for anything short of the world being set on fire.

Finally, he stilled inside of you, his fingers stopping their torturous assault on your abused clit. You sagged against him, eyes shut as you felt your heart rate begin to slow and your breathing even out. Paz simply held you tighter, his arms wrapping more securely around your stomach and pulling you back against his chest. He always became a cuddle-bug after sex, something you’d secretly been thrilled to discover.

The sound of your name falling from his lips drew you out of the haze you’d settled into, and you hummed softly to signal that you were now paying attention or attempting to at least.

“Thank you, bunny,” Paz said, his voice soft and low, a true sign of how relaxed he was. “I really needed that today.”

You made a face, your nose scrunching up slightly as your brain sluggishly thought over his words. “Y’don’ need t’ th’nk me, Paz,” you slurred, your tongue feeling far too heavy in your mouth. “‘m here, y’know. F’r you.”

He chuckled, the sound surprisingly self-deprecating. He could get maudlin sometimes, after your little sessions. It seemed like today was one of those times, and had you been more coherent, you would’ve pressed. But you weren’t, so you didn’t.

When he spoke, the traces of self-deprecation were gone, and back in place was the cocksure attitude you’d grown used to from your best friend-turned-roommate/fuckbuddy.

“Did I fuck all the thoughts outta your pretty head, bunny rabbit?” You frowned, or tried to, at least. “Awe, that’s ok,” he crooned. “Just lemme take care of you, now. You take such good care of me, it’s only fair I return the favor.”

He slowly pulled away, managing to keep you upright while he rearranged his and your clothes in an effort to look like he hadn’t just fucked you stupid. Just as you were beginning to sway dangerously, your legs feeling far too much like Jell-O, he picked you up bridal style, and began to carry you out to the couch.

You should’ve been content to just stay cradled in his arms, but something was nagging at you, something important, if only your brain was capable of forming coherent thought. Like usual, however, Paz seemed to know your mind better than you knew it yourself. He placed you gently on the couch, pressing his lips briefly to your forehead before pulling back. Your eyes slowly opened, and you whined quietly at the loss of his heat. He only smiled down at you.

“It’s alright, lemme just go and take the food outta the oven, bunny. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Ah.

Right.

The food. 

You’d honestly forgotten. 

You felt like you should be mad at him for distracting you, and likely burning dinner, but you couldn’t muster up the energy to express anything other than exhausted satisfaction. You sank down into the couch cushions, eyes falling shut again as Paz left to go take care of the food. Your body ached pleasantly, and you honestly could’ve fallen asleep then and there if it weren’t for the promise of Paz coming back to cuddle with you.

It felt like no time at all–although your current perception of the passage of time was unreliable at best–that you felt your body being carefully lifted again as the warm, muscled form of your best friend slid onto the couch behind you. He was always so gentle, unbearably so sometimes, and this was no exception. He settled into a reclined position, with you lying mostly on top of him, your face able to easily nestle into the crook of his neck. He slung an arm across your waist to better hold you, and the last bits of tension drained from both of your bodies near simultaneously.

Now that you were fully settled, you felt yourself beginning to drift off to sleep. As you teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, you whispered quietly into heated skin.

“Love you, Paz.”

As the blanket of sleep fully settled over you, you missed his equally soft, and strangely melancholic response. 

“I know, bunny. Love you too.”

[puppy-coded]

Brownie Banishment{E.M.}

Warnings: high!reader, weed, food

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Word Count: 752 words

A/N: May make a part 2, haven’t decided yet.

Eddie walked into your unlocked house and, upon hearing mumbling in your room, he slowly opened the door to your bedroom and yelped. 

You were laying on the floor, face down, and talking to yourself. He couldn’t hear what you were saying nor did he want to. He was just worried for your safety at that point.

He leaned on your door and tapped you with his foot. You turned over slowly and pulled your head up to look at him.

“What are you doing on the floor?” He asked, once he saw you were okay.

You sat up and dusted the crumbs from your face. “I made brownies. Want any?” You asked innocently.

Eddie crossed his arms and quirked an eyebrow. “Doesn’t answer my question my love.”

You laid back down, raised your arms, and waved them around wildly. “Brownies are the answer to every question in the universe. Especially in..” You paused for a moment. “I forgot...”

Eddie bent down next to you and put a hand to your forehead. “Are you... high?”

“Maybe...?” You squeaked, turning away from him. He turned you back over to face him. “Witch how?”

He rolled his eyes at your surprise. “Where’d you get weed?”

You put a hand to your forehead and thought hard for a bit. Eddie swore he could see the gears turning in your head. “... I don’t know.”

Eddie sighed and leaned back on the wall. “You know what? That’s on me. Don’t ask people questions when they’re high.” He said, reminding himself out loud.

You giggled at his statements and tried turning back over. Eddie pulled you back before you could and you whined at him. “Teddy!”

“Where’s the pan?” He asked, looking around the room.

You army crawled halfway under your bed and pulled it out as you got out from under there. You pushed the pan to Eddie and his eyes widened.

“You ate half a pan of pot brownies?” He asked, picking the pan up.

“Uh-huh. Delicious.” You said with a chef’s kiss. “Oh my god!” You shouted suddenly, sitting up as quick as you could. 

Bad idea.

You’ve angered the brain cell.

“What?” Eddie asked, bending down next to you again.

“I need a grilled cheese, like, right now. I am... super starving...” You said spacily. “Also my brain is angy.

Eddie shook his head and got up, waving you to him. “What you need is water. Let’s get you-” 

“I have some.” You interrupted. You pulled a fishbowl with a straw from behind your bed and took a sip.

It wasn’t fish water.

It was clean tap water.

“Where’d you get that?” Eddie asked. “You don’t have a fish nor have you in the past.

“... I don’t know.” You admitted.

Eddie sighed and laid next to you.

“Eddie?” You asked.

“Hm?” He hummed, turning to face you.

You puckered your lips and mumbled your request. “Can you make me a sandwich? Pretty please wife?” You asked.

Eddie smiled and helped you stand up. “Sure darling. Let’s get you to the kitchen.” He grabbed your fishbowl of water and your hand. He tries to keep you upright the whole time because of your Bambi walk.

“Teddy?”

“Hm?” He hummed once more.

“I don’t know if I like this. My brain hurts and the room is spinning.” You complained.

“I try to keep it away from you for a reason my love.” He told you, setting you in a chair in the dining room and putting your water on the counter.

“Mhm... I see that now.” 

“How do you want your grilled cheese?” He asked, looking for a pan and the ingredients.

“Extra cheese-y with extra extra apples.” You requested tiredly, laying your head on your folded arms

“What?” He asked.

“No fuck!” You shouted, holding your arms out. “I’m atoms now. I’m gonna die quickly.” You said, tears starting to form.

“That’s not...” Eddie tried interrupting.

“I love you Teddy.” You said dramatically.

Eddie shook his head and sighed. “Drink your water.” 

“Oh yeah! You’re a literal lifesaver babe.” You thanked as he took the fishbowl from the counter and directed the straw to your mouth.

“Welp. I came over here for homework now I’m here for babysitting.” He said to himself. 

You looked at him like he had two heads. “Who’s baby are you sitting on?” You asked.

“You.”

“I have a baby? Where?” You asked. “Did I give birth in my sleep?”

“Right. This is gonna be harder than I thought.” He huffed.

[dragonmuse]

The Roach scene in Hymnless got me wondering if Charlie ever appeared/will appear on the Vengeance Chefs YouTube channel?

(hi all! apparently I still do this from time to time, who knew?! )

“Okay, worms, you asked, I delivered.” Roach reached out of frame, grabbed and pulled Charlie into it by his t-shirt sleeve. “Behold. America’s champion. Say hello.” 

“Hi!” Charlie grinned at the camera. “Nice to be back.” 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Roach stared down the lens, “I told you I knew an Olympian and you all assumed I was hiding him, but it’s just this tall skinny ass white boy that thinks peanut butter out of a jar is an acceptable snack.” 

“I like peanut butter.”  

“So do I. ON things.” 

“It’s on a spoon,” Charlie pointed out with a sly grin. 

“There you have it. Two Olympic medals, not the sense that Mother Earth gave to a mosquito. Charlie, let me ask you the question I ask all my victims.” 

“I’ve been in like five videos at this point,” Charlie reminded him. “We’ve done this before.” 

“Oh, I know,” Roach nodded. “I’m going to insert a montage right here of your last five answers.” 

“Great, I was like fifteen the first time. They can watch me grow like a flipbook. Shoot.” 

“Charlie Bonnet, what is your favorite meal to order out?” 

“Waffles, eggs and crispy bacon with a coffee.” 

“Breakfast food. When is the correct time of day for that food?” 

“Any time,” Charlie said staunchly. “Breakfast exists when I break my fast.” 

“I have taught you well,” Roach nodded. “All right, a breakfast for a champion. Breakfast of Champions....good fucking book. You read that one?” 

“Love Vonnegut, Cat’s Cradle is my favorite though.” 

“So it goes,” Roach reached for the eggs. 

“So it goes,” Charlie agreed. 

“Now if you’re expecting me to ask this fine athlete a lot of jockey questions, I think you all forgot who the fuck I am,” Roach shoved a bowl at Charlie, cracked an egg on the rim then thrust a whisk at him. Charlie started to whisk as Roach added more eggs. “And you’re still thinking this kid is a normal jock.” 

“I’m twenty-two,” Charlie pointed out, diligently whisking. 

“A mere babe in the woods,” Roach agreed. “And you swim good. Great job. Everyone’s very proud. Got anything to say about that that you haven’t already said on the interview circuit two hundred times which anyone can easily google?” 

“Yeah, actually,” Charlie kept his eyes on the eggs. 

“Wait, really?” 

“Sure,” Charlie glanced over at Roach. “I’ll give you an exclusive soundbite. In fact, I saved it for you.” 

“Did you?” Roach asked suspiciously. “Okay, lay it on us.” 

“I didn’t eat anything the day I won. I don’t have a magic winning meal,” Charlie shrugged. “That’s not a recommendation, I was just too nervous. My post-win meal was a liter of chocolate milk with three tablespoons of protein powder.” 

“Amazing,” Roach patted him vaguely on the shoulder. “Thanks for saving the grossest moments for us.” 

“That is so far from the grossest thing,” Charlie said solemnly. “But I’m not here to put everyone off their appetite.” 

“Then what are you here for?” 

“Decoration, I think. And to do an impression of a stand mixer.” 

“Correct!” 

They cooked together, bantering a little as Roach shoveled ingredients into Charlie’s bowl. The waffles came out beautifully brown, the bacon crispy and the eggs fluffy. They ate and talked about corruption in sports judging, Roach grilling Charlie like he was personally responsible for the entire concept of judging. Charlie grinned through the whole thing. 

Once the cameras were off,  Charlie polished off the rest of the bacon while washing pots. Roach dried. They stood almost shoulder to shoulder, not touching, but close. 

“You know,” Roach said as he slowly dabbed away the moisture from the last plate, “the stuff for the camera...I am actually pretty proud of you.” 

“I know,” Charlie turned off the tap. “I feel the love, I promise.” 

“Let’s not go too far,” Roach sniffed and Charlie laughed. “But I might part with some leftovers. Just this once.” 

“I’ll take whatever you’ve got.” 

If Charlie went home weighted down with food stuffed into reused takeout containers that was Roach’s business. He’d show his affections in the way he saw fit and if that was in cheese bread and barbecued short rib then so be it. Charlie understood it. 

Charlie: Felix says he wants to marry you instead.  

Roach: tell I’d rather stick my hand in the garbage disposal 

Charlie: you don’t have a garbage disposal 

Roach: i would buy one for the express purpose  

Charlie: harsh but fair. It was the cheese bread, apparently. 

Roach: I’ll send you the recipe. Then you can keep your fakakta fiance. 

Charlie: can't’ wait to send you pictures of a burnt pan 

Roach: you’ll make them perfectly. Just takes a few times. I know you can be a persistent little asshole when you’re in the mood. Charlie: stop with the praise, I’m blushing so hard I’ll pass out. thnx tho.

[cielie-is-hungry]

Eddie Munson x y/n - potatosoup and pouring rain - my potatoesoup recipe

So here is my first recipe.

First of all: I'm not a chef or anything like that. However, I love to cook since I was a kid and I like to try things, aka I throw things in the pot that I think will taste good together and I'm rarely disappointed.

Second: I hate soups. So it is quite surprising to post a recipe for a soup here. But I swear to God, I think I'm in love.

While I wrote "Potatosoup and pouring rain" I had a recipe for potato soup in mind. And what do we do when we are depressed and sick? Right! We stand in the kitchen for hours trying out what our heads are brewing. Ok, am I the only one? Well, at least let me tell you about this potato soup.

I would be really happy about your feedback!

And now: here is the recipe from "Potatosoup and pouring rain"

What you need (for about 2 people)

2-3 pork neck steaks (or 2-3 smoked tofu for those who want to avoid meat)

3 mealy potatoes

3 waxy potatoes

2 large carrots

1 really small parsley root

Vegetable broth (I used powder, 1.5 heaped teaspoons, for about 300ml)

oil for frying

1 large onion

2 cloves of garlic

cream (later to refine the soup)

water

Utils

A pot (obviously)

cooking spoon

spoon

knife

cutting board

blender

Ok, then let's get started.

Step 1:

Of course you have to get all the ingredients in the first step, otherwise cooking could be difficult.

Step 2:

In the next step we peel the potatoes, carrots, parsley root, onions and garlic. Take the steaks out of the packaging and rinse them thoroughly, then dry them well. The meat has to be really, really dry! Otherwise it won't cook properly.

Step 3:

Now grab your sword, dagger, lightsaber, or other sharp cutting tool (don't hurt yourself, darling! Bloodstains are hard to clean.)

You cut the meat into small cubes (bite-sized, after all it is a soup, you rarely eat it with a knife and fork to cut something.)

Cut the mealy potatoes, half of the waxy potatoes and one carrot into large pieces. You don't have to win a beauty contest with them, the little things are pureed later, so it's what's on the inside that counts, as always.

Cut the other half of the carrots and waxy potatoes into small cubes, no larger than 1cm (you won't puree them)

Quarter the onions (don't cry honey, they're not worth it), leave the garlic as it is, you can crush it with the flat side of your cutting tool.

The parsley root is also cut in half only once. We don't need much, it tastes very intense. If you're not sure, leave them out and use just a few parsley leaves later to serve.

Step 4:

It's getting hot in here! Literally. Now put the pot on the stove and heat it. It should get really really hot. Then add the oil or butter (depending on what you prefer to use for frying). You can also (if you have it and want it) use the rind of smoked pork belly, which gives it a special flavor. But that is not mandatory. Then fry the meat cubes until they are evenly browned. Don't worry if there is a 'brown' layer at the bottom of the pot when frying. Those are wonderful flavors (as long as the layer doesn't burn and turn black) and that's exactly the flavors we want!

As soon as the meat is seared, take it out of the pot with a spoon (leave as much of the fat leftover from searing in the pot as possible)

Now you can add a dash of oil or butter and sauté the onions and garlic until the color has also taken on. That goes in a bowl too (not with the meat!) and you leave as much fat in the pot as possible again.

You repeat the whole thing with the small waxy potatoes and the diced carrots, as soon as they are nicely browned you can put them in the bowl with the meat.

By now you should have a nice brown layer full of roasting flavors at the bottom of the pot. Perfect! We want exactly these flavors!

Step 5:

Now put the remaining potatoes, carrots and the small piece of parsley root in the pot and fill it with water until the vegetables are just covered. You can always add water later if the soup is too thick. When the water is bubbling slightly, you can try to gently stir the sediment with a wooden spoon. You'll quickly notice if everything has come off the bottom of your pot, don't worry. I use instant broth powder. I don't know if that's a German thing or if it's worldwide. If you don't have something like that, you can also pour about 300 ml of vegetable broth over the vegetables and fill the rest with water. If you use powder then about 1.5 heaped teaspoons should be ok. You better use a little less seasoning, you can always spice it up later. You can also add the onions and garlic while cooking to give the soup an even more intense onion-garlic flavor. But it's enough if you only add them at the end.

Now everything is boiled up. If the water is boiling, feel free to turn the heat down to medium, but it must always be simmering. Now you have about 20 minutes. During this time you can, for example, do the dishes, practice handstands, make plans for world domination, or read my fanfiction "Potatosoup and pouring rain". ;)

Step 6:

The potatoes and carrots should now be soft by now. You can try a piece. If it's still hard, let it simmer for a few more minutes. If you didn't add the onions at the beginning, do it now. When the vegetables are cooked soft, you take the pot off the stove.

IMPORTANT! DO NOT POUR THE WATER! IT'S FULL OF FLAVOR WE NEED!

When the pot is off the stove, we take the hand blender and puree everything until you can no longer tell what it was.

Now you can refine the soup. If it's too thick you can add a little more water, broth or cream, you can season the soup a bit (as you may have noticed I don't use pepper, I hate pepper so now is the time to use it). If you like the soup, add the meat and the fried carrots and potatoes and boil everything together one last time.

Et voilà!

Cielie's potato soup is ready to be served. Baguette is perfect for dipping.

If you are vegetarian or vegan: you can replace the meat with smoked tofu!

If you cook the recipe, let me know and tell me how you liked the soup! Comments, ideas and feedback is always welcome!

Bon appétit !

[writing-by-gayrainbowbridge]

Ketchup And Tabasco Chaos

Inspiration From This Gorgeous Fanart Made By murdermuffinloki:

⚠️Warning: Minor Language⚠️

Enjoy 💚💚💚

(Please Check The Pinned Post On My Tumblr Page To See If There Are More Parts To This Story)

"Pass the ketchup."

President Loki frowned deeply, glancing at Sylvie who was stirring the pot of...whatever it was they were making for dinner. President Loki hadn't been paying too much attention when Sylvie suggested they cook for Loki who was still upstairs asleep in their room.

Somehow, Loki had got some Midgardian illness and only Sylvie's assurances that Loki was going to be fine that stopped him from destroying the entire Midgardian population.

"Can I get a please?" President Loki said pleasantly, taking joy in the way Sylvie glared at him. It was no secret to any of them that President Loki desired to cause trouble at any given moment.

"I'll stick this spoon up your ass if you don't give me the ketchup in the next ten seconds," she told him, President Loki scowling at her copy of the pleasant smile he had given her a moment ago.

They both knew she would do it too.

President Loki snatched up the ketchup from the countertop with an aggravated sigh. But then a devious smirk spread across his, glancing at Sylvie who was looking back at the pot, hand held out for the ketchup. "Are you sure you want the ketchup?"

Sylvie clicked her tongue. "Yes, I'm sure. Now give it to me."

President Loki's smirk widened. "Well, if you insist..."

He popped the cap off and just as Sylvie turned to look at him with a frown on her face, he squeezed the bottle, ketchup sauce spraying everywhere. The cabinets, the floor and all over Sylvie's blond hair was covered in a coating of ketchup sauce who gasped, an outraged look taking over her face.

President Loki only smiled, tilting his head to the side. "Oops."

"That's it!" Sylvie hissed, grabbing the nearest ingredient which happened to be spicy tabasco sauce and President Loki's eyes went wide as he got a face full of Tabasco sauce.

He shouted as some got into his eye that felt like it was suddenly on fire and squeezed it shut, resisting the urge to rub it. That would only make it worse, he knew.

Sylvie grinned savagely. "I hope it never stops burning, you stuck up bastard!"

President Loki growled low in his throat but Sylvie didn't back down like Loki would have. She was very stubborn like that. "You have until the count of five to run."

Sylvie stepped closer, right up in President Loki's personal space. Despite her short height, she was still rather intimidating when she wanted to be, so much so that President Loki had to resist the urge to step back.

"Or else what?" She hissed out, deadly quiet.

President Loki glared but Sylvie glared right back and they were both sure a real fight was about to break out any second when a voice cut through the heavy silence.

"What in Asgard is going on in here?!"

President Loki and Sylvie turned their heads towards the sound of the voice in unison just as Loki walked around the corner and froze, staring wide eyed and speechless at the mess of the kitchen. He looked tired though and guilt rushed through both President Loki and Sylvie as they wondered if they'd woken Loki up from all their yelling.

"Well, um..." President Loki bit his lip, glancing at Sylvie.

Sylvie looked at President Loki, having no clue what to say. "We just, uh..."

Loki sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, giving them both disapproving looks. "Can you two please not use ketchup and tabasco as murder weapons?!"

"We just wanted to make dinner for you," Sylvie and President Loki stated at the same time, making them glance at each other again.

Loki's expression softened a little. "I appreciate the thought but it would be great if you two could stop trying to murder one another every minute."

That was fair. The pair did quite literally try to kill each other every other day.

"Well, he/she started it!" Sylvie and President Loki protested at the same, pointing at each other.

"Well, I'm finishing it!" Loki snapped before coughing hard, putting a hand over his mouth. He clearly still wasn't well enough to be up which only added onto the pair's guilt. "I'm going back to bed. Clean this mess up and when you're ready to be civil, come join me. I require cuddles and comfort but I will not deal with you two's banter."

With that, Loki turned and left the kitchen, leaving the pair to stare at the spot he had been standing.

"This is all your fault," Sylvie grumbled, waving her hand and vanishing the mess from all the surfaces of the kitchen and herself though she left President Loki to deal with his own mess himself.

"All you needed to do was say please," President Loki muttered. He was going to need a shower since he knew not how to vanish messes like Sylvie and Loki did.

"And that warrants you spraying ketchup all over me?" Sylvie gritted out.

"Don't act like a saint. You're just as bad, dousing me in tabasco sauce!" President Loki muttered.

Sylvie looked like she was going to strangle him any second now before she sighed, all the fight draining out of her body. "Why do we always have to fight?"

President Loki thought about it for a moment before shrugging. "We're different from one another. We're bound to clash. Though I suppose we could try harder to get along. I'd rather this relationship to not be ruined."

Sylvie nodded, leaning against President Loki who instinctively wrapped his arms around her. "Try harder. I can do that."

President Loki hummed softly, pressing a kiss to her now clean hair. "Let's not leave our god waiting. You know how fussy he gets when we leave him alone for long."

Sylvie had no arguments there.

Once they'd finished making up what President Loki found out to be pasta apparently, they headed up to their room (Sylvie had forgiven President Loki enough to clean the tabasco sauce off him thankfully).

They quietly slipped into the room and smiled at the sight of Loki under a large amount of blankets, very obviously curled up in a ball.

He blinked his eyes open when he heard them come in and narrowed his eyes at them suspiciously. "You two had better be done fighting."

"We've agreed to try harder to get along more often than not" President Loki promised as he sat on the bed and helped Loki sit up who whined and protested but brightened when he saw the bowls of pasta balanced in Sylvie's hands.

"Good. I'm glad," Loki muttered, taking the bowl Sylvie handed him eagerly. "Thank you for the dinner."

Sylvie kissed his cheek. "Just get better for us, okay?"

Loki nodded, putting a forkful of pasta into his mouth and closed his eyes as he hummed in pleasure.

President Loki and Sylvie smiled at each other from either side of Loki who leaned into President Loki's side.

Get along. They could do that.

No problem.

...

@murdermuffinloki Those two are going to give Loki a migraine, smh 😂

@girl-with-many-fandoms Hope you like Sylki (I know lots of people don't ship it so I'm like ???) with some President Loki thrown into the mix XD

[spacequokka]

Say My Name | 08

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader f. OT9 Genre: Angst with some Fluff Rating: T Summary: It’s time to face your fears and make a decision. Word Count: 4.1k Warnings: talks about feelings and self-respect, it gets heavy for a minute but don’t worry—Soo’s there for you.

A/N: That moment when your PWP develops a plot with substance. I was expecting an intro to the smut but got something a little better. Somehow, this fits Kyungsoo’s style.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

You didn’t have the slightest idea what to cook for dinner. Usually, you just went with a meal plan, but you forgot to make one. In between your errands and making sure the dorm was fit to house all nine of them, meal planning somehow slipped between the cracks. Literally everything else had been taken care of, yet there you stood without the foggiest idea of what they should eat.

The front door beeped, signaling the use of a key card, then clicked. Kyungsoo stepped in, rolling his luggage behind him. His eyes swept the room before landing on you. A small smile formed on his lips. “_____, I’m home.”

You stepped out from behind the counter and made your way over to him. “Welcome home, Soo. Here, I’ll take your things for you.”

He shook his head. “No need. I can get it. But thank you.”

Your shoulders slumped. “If you change your mind—”

“I promise to call you.” His eyes met yours and held your gaze. “Jagi, you don’t have to push yourself so much for us.” He turned away, leaving you standing there at a loss for words.

You returned to the kitchen and flipped through the recipe book for the third time. It wouldn’t be long before the rest showed up, trickling in like a stream in a forest. It should have made you more anxious about cooking, but oddly enough, you found comfort. Life was flat-out boring without them around. Sure, they were chaotic and did no favors for your poor heart, but you wouldn’t trade them for anyone else in the world.

By the time you reached the rice and noodle section of the book, Kyungsoo came out of his room and made a beeline for the kitchen. You figured he was thirsty, but he didn’t stop in front of the fridge. Instead, he came to your side and put an arm around your shoulders.

He pressed his lips to your temple. “What are we looking at?” He asked, looking over the pages.

“Dinner ideas. I dunno what I want to cook.” You looked up at him. “Any requests? Please say yes.”

He frowned and bit his lip for a second, then his face lit up. “I do, actually.” He put his hands on your shoulders and gently guided you away from the book, around the island to one of the two barstools. “You sit and relax. I’ll cook.”

“What? No!” you protested, immediately jumping down before he could completely turn away. “It’s my job to feed you guys.”

He shrugged and guided you back up onto the chair. “Don’t care. I don’t get to cook often enough. I’ll do something quick and simple and you can supervise while keeping me company.” He stuck out his hand. “Deal?”

You eyed his hand with a pout, disgruntled yet unable to resist his puppy dog eyes. When it was clear he wasn’t about to change his mind, you placed your hand in his. “Deal.”

With that, he got to work pulling out utensils, pots and pans, and ingredients from the fridge and pantry. He chopped and diced, measured liquids, and sifted powders. Whatever he was making was from scratch. You were so captivated by his finesse that you didn’t notice neither of you was speaking to each other until he broke the silence. “If you don’t mind me asking, have you spent more time thinking about our situation?”

“Huh? What?” You sat up straight.

He bit his bottom lip and looked away for a second. “It’s my understanding that Jun talked to you about our intentions. Made it clear what we—all of us—want from you.” His chopping slowed to a stop. “You’re still up for that, right?”

“Oh!” You looked down at your hands and twirled your thumbs. “I…Yeah. I think about it all the time, actually. Still a little unsure about it.”

Kyungsoo nodded. “I understand.” He put down the knife and wiped his hands on a dishcloth. “Alright, let’s talk about it.”

You huffed with a shrug. “I don’t know where to start. I never do when I try to sort through it on my own, you know? Like…it’s so much all at once.”

He pulled out a saucepan and skillet from under the counter. “Overwhelming, huh? I can imagine suddenly having the affection and attention of nine men being more than you’re prepared to deal with.” The skillet went to the stove with care while he placed the saucepan in the sink. “You know you can tell us to chill out whenever you need a break. The last thing we want is to push you too far so soon into this. It’s new for everyone involved, but it doesn’t exist without you.”

You nodded and gnawed on your bottom lip. Silence settled between you two as he filled the pot with water. Your thoughts were all over the place. Where should you start? What should you say? The more you struggled to put your thoughts and feelings into words, the more frustrated you got. Without a word, Kyungsoo placed a water bottle between your hands.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“Stress and dehydration don’t mix.” He went back to cooking, adding spices in with the vegetables. A heavenly aroma filled the air and your stomach growled in response.

“No shit,” you mumbled, uncapping the bottle and drinking half of it right away. When you put the bottle down, you resigned yourself to word vomiting until you couldn’t think of anything else to say. “I feel like a slut for wanting two guys, much less nine. Even more so since I technically work for them. Then there’s the whole ‘don’t shit where you eat’ thing. If things go bad because of this, I’m potentially out of a job. I don’t think it would be so bad if I didn’t also live here, so there’s that too.”

The front door opened and a jolly voice called out, “Honey, I’m home!” Baekhyun appeared in the hallway dragging his suitcase. “Soo! You’re cooking?” He crossed the kitchen with a little skip, throwing his arms around your neck and crushing your face to his chest. “And how is my favorite brat doing?”

You fought against his hold, struggling until he released you with a kiss on the top of your head. “I am not a brat.”

“Three out of nine experts agree you can get mouthy when you’re not getting your way.” He dodged your swing and stuck out his tongue. “Anyway. Gonna shower and take a nap. Wake me when dinner’s ready, though.”

Kyungsoo agreed to Baekhyun’s request, then waited until he heard a door close. “Okay, so that’s a lot to unpack.” He paused to drink from his own water bottle. “Honestly, you’ll feel bad about it for as long as you care about what others think of you. I know, it’s easier to talk about not caring than actually doing it. It’s something we could help you work on. Personally, I see it as a testament to how desirable you are. The people who’d say things like that about you likely could never find themselves in the same situation.”

“If you’re about to say something about sticks and stones--”

He smirked. “No, but I’m glad you know the saying.” He stirred the food in the skillet. “I don’t know if this will mean much to you, but none of us think that way of you. You know that, right? You do so much for us with the brightest smiles we’ve ever seen.” Noodles went into the pot of boiling water. “You’re as important to us as we are to each other.”

You shook your head. “Am not.”

“Without you, we wouldn’t look forward to coming home as much. I mean, yeah it’s nice to relax, but really, we look forward to sharing our experiences with you. We want to take you with us on trips and tours so badly, but we can’t. Not without putting you in danger. So we can’t wait to come home and share our stories and give you souvenirs…” He turned to look at you. “Home isn’t home without you. No one else could ever make this place our home the way you do.” He turned back to the stove. “So, for us, it isn’t about sex. Our main motive is making sure you’re taken care of the same way you take care of us. You do a lot of giving and make a lot of sacrifices. We want to make it clear that we appreciate you by giving you the most precious thing we have to give: our feelings.”

You balked at the words. “I don’t need thanks for doing my job!”

The front door opened again, this time followed by loud talking and laughter. Junmyeon came in with Sehun, followed by Jongdae and Minseok. They each stopped to give you hugs and forehead or cheek kisses before continuing on to their rooms. You caught the pointed look Junmyeon gave Kyungsoo before he disappeared. Kyungsoo turned off the stove and pulled down plates. You scrambled off the stool to help him get out the things needed to set the table.

“_____,” he murmured when you were close enough. “Is this really just a job to you?”

“Huh?” You looked at him. The question made little sense. You never said it was just a job, did you? Did you give the impression—

“There are things you do that other maids for other groups don’t do.” He sighed softly, “Things that even friends don’t do. You remember little details we mention one time in passing. Like the name of the body wash Sehun got from a hotel that he really liked. Or hunting down discontinued things we like. Or putting up new pictures of our family and pets for us to see when we get home.”

“Am I not supposed to do those things?” You asked, becoming increasingly unsure of your duties.

He gave you a long look, then shook his head, putting down the plates. “How can I put this?” He closed his eyes for a second. “Those actions are very intimate and are, if I’m being honest, things we’d like our girlfriend or wife to do. Things like that aren’t done for an employer unless asked for. We never ask for the incredibly thoughtful things you do.”

“Then, should I stop?”

“No. No.” He grabbed your hands and held them to his lips. “Let me ask you this. Why haven’t you gone on dates or even had casual hookups since you started working here?”

“Because I haven’t had time. That and there’s not much privacy when you’re all here.”

“And when we’re overseas? Do you go out and date when we’re not even in the country?”

How could you tell him you’re usually too exhausted from trying to keep up with them to think about your love life without sounding pathetic? “I…do not. I like to stay on top of my chores and prepare for your return. I love my job and take it seriously!”

He let go of your hands to cup your face. “Jagi, listen to me. Do you love your job, or do you love us?” The question floored you. “Because we have the impression that you’d still do all that you do for us even if you weren’t paid to do it.”

You couldn’t even tell him he was wrong. They were more than a paycheck to you. They were dear friends, pushing their way to becoming more. Something that you’d always been afraid of and avoided like the plague. Yet, somehow, you blurred the line between you over a cup of orange juice.

Someone lightly touched your back as they opened the fridge next to you. “He’s right.” Junmyeon leaned into view and smiled. “Oh, love. You should see your face. Remember that whole honest expressions talk?” He touched your nose. “This is one of those moments where it really shines.”

“Dinner’s ready, by the way,” Kyungsoo said without looking away from you.

“Good. The others will be home in a minute.” Junmyeon patted Kyungsoo’s shoulder, then disappeared.

You looked at Kyungsoo, searching his eyes for some sort of reassurance as he searched yours for confirmation. You licked your lips and whispered, “I’m scared, Soo.” His thumbs caressed your cheeks. “What if it doesn’t work out? And I don’t want to lose you guys’ respect either. Hell, I don’t want to lose respect for myself. And I love this job. I can’t imagine losing everything just because I got greedy.”

“You’re not being greedy, jagi. You have needs we want to satisfy.” He rubbed his nose against yours, then gave you a soft, lingering peck on the lips. “Don’t you deserve to be taken care of, too?”

“Well, ideally, yes, but not by my employer.” You closed your eyes, aware of how ridiculous you sounded, but still unable to let it go. “I can’t help but feel like the sex is tied to my paycheck, and it makes me feel…cheap. Kinda worthless. I want nothing more than to throw caution to the wind, but I know how easy it is to be tossed aside and left to fend for myself. It was hard to get this job and I know I’ll have a hard time finding work if I get fired for having sex with one guy, much less what amounts to a basketball team. The culture here isn’t too forgiving on women.”

“I get that.” He pressed his forehead to yours and looked into your eyes. “But, and hear me out first, would you rather keep the job and things remain professional or lose it to have us without all this guilt?”

The front door opened again, but you didn’t pay attention to who came through it. “What do you mean ‘lose it?’ If I lose this job, there won’t be another job for me. Not one with the benefits this one has. A-and if I lose it, fuck, I lose you all. There wouldn’t be any having you. And the guilt would eat me alive, regardless.” You tried to pull away, but he turned you so that your back was against the fridge and held you against it. “How-how can you even say it so calmly like that? Like losing me wouldn’t hurt you at all. I…I don’t get it.”

“God, does your brain do this with everything? Over-think and jump to conclusions, then get yourself all worked up over what’s ultimately nothing.” He wiped your cheeks with his thumbs, bringing your attention to the way unshed tears lined your eyes. “No wonder you’re blindsided by this. You spend too much time in this beautiful mind of yours, baby.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and held you against his chest. “I was just suggesting you quit. Then you can get another job with none of the issues you’re worried about, like something flexible that allows for travel.”

Your stomach dropped to your toes as your heart stuttered. “You want me to quit?”

“It’s just an idea I had.”

You looked away and blinked back a fresh wave of tears. “But then, where will I go when you hire someone to replace me?” You swallowed hard. The thought of someone new moving into your room and getting to know them the way you had tore you apart. Maybe you were wrong, and this was all a lie. By giving into the lust—that’s what it had been, right?—you’d obviously disgusted them enough to come up with this clever way of cutting you off and kicking you out. The thought settled around your heart with an icy vice-grip.

“You’re literally doing the over-thinking thing again, right here in my face.” He exhaled loudly and moved his hands to your shoulders with a squeeze. “How many ways can we possibly put it? We need you. We want you. We’ll always want you, ____. There is no ‘replacing’ you for us. If you quit, we will not be hiring anyone else.”

“Then who’s gonna do the chores and run errands? Who’ll check in on the fur babies--”

He cut you off with a kiss. “You, love. You can still do those things, if you want, except we’re gonna help you. We’ll keep the house in order together. All of us. You’ll keep your room. Everything will stay the way it is now, except you’ll be free to travel with us. No more leaving you behind. We’ll figure out your job situation because it’s clear you want to be independent. It’ll take some time, but we’ll respect that…as best we can.” He looked to the side and pulled you away from the fridge and turned you. You got a glimpse of someone’s chest before Kyungsoo let go and you were pulled into a warm embrace. “Hey, Nini.”

Jongin pressed a chaste kiss to the side of your head and followed it with a soft rumbling reply. “Hello. I missed you guys.” You waited for him to let go and were pleasantly surprised when he continued to cuddle you, breathing in your scent as he reveled in your warmth. His lips moved to your ear as he murmured, “Did you miss me like l missed you, sweetheart?”

Your cheeks caught fire as you did your best to hide a smile, bringing your arms up to hold him close. “I…Yes, I did. I always do.”

Jongin’s arms tightened around you. “I’m glad to hear that.” He pulled back with a wide grin. “I brought you some stuff back from the fashion show.”

“Like what? It can’t be clothes.” You shook your head. “You don’t know my sizes.”

He laughed and kissed you. “Not off the top of my head. It’s in the group chat history, though.”

“You’re kidding, right?” You looked at him, completely serious. Jongin walked you backward until your back hit a counter, then lifted you up onto it. “I don’t need clothes, Nini.”

He shrugged, paying no attention to the sudden flurry of movement around you. Plates, cups, and silverware clattered as they moved the food to the dining room. Jongin turned your attention back to him with his finger. “I don’t see the point of all the money and fancy things if I don’t have someone to share it with.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “And I saw the picture of you with Junnie at the party. That dress…” He bit his lip and let it go slowly. “I admit I was jealous, but it also inspired me to have you at my side like that.”

“So you’re finally coming around to the appeal of role play?” Jongdae snickered as he pulled a bottle out of the wine fridge.

Jongin rolled his eyes as his cheeks flushed. “I’m getting there.”

Jongdae patted his shoulder and smiled at you. “Hello, beautiful.” He leaned over and kissed your cheek.

“Table’s set!” Chanyeol hollered from the dining room. Jongin stepped back and allowed you to hop down. Kyungsoo appeared at your side, taking your hand and leading the way to the table. You were surprised to see all of them taking their seats, including Yixing and Chanyeol, who you didn’t even see come in.

“Hi, _____.” Yixing batted his eyelashes at you, taking your hand and brushing a kiss to the back of it once you were within reach.

“Welcome home.” You squeezed his hand.

He pulled out the empty chair beside him and gestured for you to sit. In no time, everyone was seated and began pouring drinks and loading their plates with meats and noodles. It wasn’t long before the conversation in the kitchen slipped to the back of your mind. You got swept up in their travel stories. Jongdae’s flight somehow got mixed up and he ended up in Siberia for a weekend, something Minseok and Baekhyun found utterly delightful. Yixing’s staff pulled a prank on him, resulting in him cross-dressing as Little Red Riding Hood. Sehun and Chanyeol got to see an elephant perform tricks, then ride it. Best of all, the last performance of Junmyeon’s play had sold out.

Throughout each tale told to a backdrop of silverware scraping plates and various degrees of giggles, you couldn’t imagine not being there. It made you realize Kyungsoo had a point. Would you listen this intently to anyone else? Would you bother to go all out with little touches and gifts that might be overlooked for another group? Would you enjoy the work as much if you weren’t doing it for them?

No.

No, you wouldn’t.

Life wouldn’t be the same, wouldn’t be as wonderful, without them. Given the sly looks and smiles directed at you, it was painfully obvious they felt the same. If you had any reservations about being with them the way you all wanted to, then it was up to you to fix it. The final decision was up to you and you alone.

“_____?” An elbow nudged you.

“Hm?” You looked up with wild eyes to find everyone looking at you with a mixture of worry and curiosity.

Junmyeon cleared his throat. “I asked if anything happened to you. What did we miss?”

Various heads nodded. The last time you’d been the center of attention like this, Minseok had his fingers buried in your pussy while Jongin begged to tongue-fuck you. Your face burned at the memory. Now was so not the time to revisit that night. “I…uh…” You shrugged as you quickly chewed the food in your mouth. Once you swallowed, you continued, “Not really? I mean, I got to see this herd of huskies at the dog park when I was out picking up supplies. But that’s nothing compared to you guys’ stories.”

They were quick to disagree in various ways with Minseok flat out demanding to hear more about the husky pack he clearly belonged to. And just like that, you found yourself detailing your boring days, with them barely looking away to finish their food. Kyungsoo and Minseok had suggestions for cleaning things you had trouble with, while Baekhyun and Chanyeol declared themselves your official escorts for grocery shopping when available.

“You shouldn’t have to struggle with the bags!” Chanyeol frowned. “And it’d be much easier to make substitutions if one of us were there with you.”

“We should revise the chore chart and make a menu!” Baekhyun volunteered, receiving a shout of agreement from the group along with pats on the back.

“While we’re at it,” Minseok smiled, the light in his eyes dancing with mischievous mirth. “She needs a bigger bed.”

Junmyeon snapped. “You have the nerve to bring that up?! I’m still mad at you for that stunt.” He put down his fork as if he knew it’d become a weapon in a minute. 

“If she had a bigger bed, we wouldn’t have ended up on the floor. I needed more surface area to work with.”

“You’re the oldest! You’re supposed to be leading by example.”

Minseok nodded. “You’re right.” He looked down the table at the others. “Guys, listen up. If your tongue is buried in her pussy, there are no consequences, so as long as she cu--” Junmyeon slapped a hand over his mouth and tilted his head back, whispering threats you were too far away to hear. As the group erupted into laughter, you stared down at the food on your plate with a fond smile. Even with Junmyeon on the verge of strangling Minseok, you were still comfortable. Content even.

‘Home isn’t home without you.’

You looked at Kyungsoo, who was watching the show with a grin. Those sharp eyes of his caught things you’d miss even with a magnifying glass.

‘Or do you love us?’

In your short time on earth, you’d had plenty of love with an equal amount of loss. With time, you became overly cautious and skeptical, hell-bent on safeguarding your heart even if it meant becoming best friends with loneliness. It wasn’t until you took this job that you slowly stopped caring about being alone or feeling lonely. Even when they weren’t there, they left behind so much life and love for one another that you never noticed the things you’d given up. Watching them laugh while they shared a home cooked meal reminded you of something you’d forgotten.

You weren’t the only one who’d be risking it all. They could just as easily lose the same precious thing you wanted to protect so desperately: home. If they had the courage to try, if they thought so highly of you, shouldn’t you reward their adoration and loyalty with your own?

You inhaled and let it go slowly, carefully putting your fork down and pushing away from the table. An abrupt hush fell over the group as their attention turned to you. When you were sure you had their undivided attention, you looked Kyungsoo in the eyes.

“I quit.”

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[balkanradfem]

First time making dandelion honey!

Only ingredients we need for this are dandelion heads, sugar, and optionally a bit of lemon juice. I'm going to make the simplest version of this possible.

So the first task is to catch dandelions at the moment where most of them are opened, and you're standing in a field of yellow pom-poms. Only heads are needed!

I'm planning to make a very small amount, so it doesn't take long to make. I'm only using the dandelions in the bowl. They need to be washed, put in a pot, covered with water, boiled for half an hour, then left to steep 24 hours. I added a little cube of frozen lemon juice! Originally people put in lemon slices, but this will work too.

I didn't really boil them for that long—instead I used my method of getting it to boil, then quickly wrapping the pot in cloth, towels, and a blanket, so the heat can't escape, and left it like that for a day. This way they remain almost-boiling temperature for half an hour, then slowly cool down until they're just warm.

*24 hrs later*

The liquid now needs to be strained! I couldn't find my gauze so I used an clean white cotton shirt, it worked okay. It needs to be strained thru a cloth so it wouldn't have little petals or fibrous material inside the honey. The mass of dandelions was solid when I took it out of the shirt! That can be composted.

It's all in a big pot so it would reduce more quickly. I boiled it until it had very little water in it – you see it only covers the bottom of the pot. Then sugar is added – and here I made a mistake, I added too much sugar. You're supposed to add the same amount as the original liquid you strained, but I didn't think it mattered as much, because we're getting that liquid to evaporate anyway. You'll find out later the results of putting too much sugar in.

See how much it looks like honey already!

I also made another mistake: I kept boiling this for maybe 20 minutes, and it started bubbling up a lot. I reduced the fire and kept simmering it, because it didn't have that thick honey consistency. However honey doesn't have the same consistency hot and cold, it thickens considerably once it cools down! I spent additional 5 minutes with it on fire, but it should have been done as soon as it bubbled up like that.

Here's my little jar I poured it in, I managed to make exactly the desired amount. I also had 3 honey-themed lids and had trouble picking the one for this jar. Little bee Maja won!

So I had to take the jar outside after it cooled down, to show you the little imperfections this has. It's still good! And it's going to work just fine for me. Because it put in too much sugar, it couldn't keep itself dissolved in that dandelion infusion, so it's now crystalizing both on top and the bottom of the jar. It's not a big deal, that is literally just candy. And due to me overcooking it a little, the consistency is extremely thick! It's a little thicker than regular honey, and this is also completely fine, since I plan to use it for putting in granola bars.

Honey made with dandelion is anti-viral, and a spoon of it can be used to help colds and flu's! It's good to have as a bit of home-made medicine, very tasty and child friendly.

[theninjamouse]

Sick Day

You're not sure if it's a monster thing or a Grillby thing, but you've always thought that Grillby just doesn't get sick. The closest he even gets is headaches, which you may or may not have caused on a few occasions of reckless activities that landed you at the hospital.

Turns out you were wrong.

Waking up in a sweat is a common occurrence given Grillby's tendency to lock you in a teddy bear hold during the night, but on this particular morning you wake feeling more liquid than person. Gah, gross.

Kicking your feet free from the thin sheet, you swipe at your face, blinking blearily. The light coming in from the window is the dull blue from a sun not yet risen. The room, always warm, is unbearably hot.

The debate of whether to poke Grillby awake or just camp on the couch for a few more hours dies as your eyes fall on your still slumbering partner. It's normal for the edges of his face to get soft and fuzzy when he's sleeping but nearly all definition of his head is gone. The color is weird too; waves of uneasy green and deep red sweep over his face and bits of flame hiss and spit erratically.

"Holy sh- hey, Grillby." Reaching out, you gingerly touch his shoulder, wary of waking him into a panic if he's having a nightmare. "Grillby?"

A deep throated groan rumbles from his chest. He shifts and you think his head turns towards you. He makes a questioning noise and you just barely catch that his eyes have opened to thin slivers.

"Hey," you say gently as you sit up. "Are you okay? You look more like...a regular campfire than usual."

He doesn't answer for a moment, blinking owlishly. Then he lifts a hand, looking down at the fingers that have molded into stubby digits. "Ah," he rasps before a terrible crackling cough shakes his shoulders.

Alarmed, you move to help him sit up, patting his back. The fabric of his shirt is scorching hot. "Holy crap, are you sick?"

Wheezing, he tries to speak, fails and then just nods miserably.

Your mouth drops. He’d been quiet and subdued last night sure, but you thought that he was just tired from a crazy work week. "I thought you didn't get sick!"

It takes him a moment to get the breath to mutter, ".....very...rarely."

"Geez, okay, um. Here." You take your pillow and add it to his, fluffing them up against the headboard. "Lean back here."

He follows your guiding hand with meek compliance, which more than anything tells you he's out of it. What the heck do you do now? None of the human cures for colds or fevers will work here. No point in a glass of water or medicine made for human bodies. Maybe there's monster medicine? Would a monster candy work?

Leaning over, you grab your phone off the nightstand. It's a little after six. Hopefully Toriel is already up and moving since it's a school day.

"Good morning Shore," she greets after just a few rings and you breathe a little sigh of relief. "Is something wrong? You're rarely up this early."

"Yeah, um, Grillby's sick." You look over at him to see he's closed his eyes, head slumped against the wall.

"Oh dear! Is he alright?"

"I don't know, I think so?" You try not to let your voice hitch. "He's burning really hot and his colors are weird and he's got a cough. Do you...have you ever dealt with monster sickness?"

"More than my fair share," she says sympathetically. "Though it has been a very, very long time since the last fire based illness I cared for."

"But you have cared for one? What do I do?"

"He needs to stay fed; the excess heat is his core attempting to burn out the illness."

"Like a human fever."

"Exactly." There's a noise in the background and you hear Toriel respond as if she's placed her fuzzy paw over the phone. "My dear, I'm terribly sorry, there's a bit of a crisis happening this morning, I need to take care of this but I will call you back. For now, keep him comfortable and keep him fed. Oil heavy foods, perhaps sprinkle on some butane-”

Bu-what now.

“Oh dear, there goes Frisk. Call me if you have any other questions, I’ll be by with a pie later!” Click. 

Ah. Great. You sigh and set the phone down. At the slightest shifting of the mattress, you say, “Dear, where do you think you’re going?” 

Grillby freezes, one loosely formed hand gripping the edge of the blanket. “Kitchen,” he rasps. “...I need...”

“To eat, yeah, Toriel told me. I’ll get it so you stay put.” Scooting over, you push him back against the headrest. It’s a fight to quell the urge to put your hand up on his forehead. It’s obvious enough without feeling that he’s literally burning up. 

“Normally this would be the point I’d go get a wet rag or something,” you joke weakly. “But I don’t think that’d be helpful to you.” 

Grillby mumbles something that might be a sassy remark or just another groan. 

“Got any butane?” 

The noise this time is definitely a groan. 

You pat his thigh. “Sorry, queen’s orders.” 

He gestures towards the kitchen and you slip off the bed. Grillby’s kitchen is always stocked so it’s easy to gather together ingredients for a stew. It’s no chicken noodle soup but at least it’s soup like. You do indeed find a canister of butane in one of the cabinets. The large ‘Highly Flammable’ warning on the side has you pausing. How exactly do you add butane to a stew? How much? Eh, probably best to just bring the whole thing and ask Grillby. 

It’s not long before the stew is bubbling and a rather lovely smell fills the kitchen. You’re no Grillby, but you can make a very solid stew. You grab a bowlful, the butane, turn and yelp, nearly dropping them both. 

Grillby has either ignored your orders to stay put or just forgot because there he stands. But the effort of moving seems to have stolen away what energy he had left because now he looks more like a matchstick than a monster. His head is just a simple flame flickering with the same harsh colors and his shirt hangs loosely on his thinned frame. 

“Oh geezum, you scared me,” you wheeze, wincing at the hot stew that splashed on your hand. “Are you okay?” 

He...maybe shrugs? It’s hard to tell with how little mass he has right now. You set the butane down and guide him to sit on the couch. When you offer the bowl and spoon, he forgoes the spoon altogether and cups the bowl in his now fingerless hands and chugs the entire thing down in a matter of seconds. 

You blink. “Oh. More?” 

“...Please.” 

More you get, bowl after bowl until the pot is empty and then you remember the can of butane still sitting on the counter. When you bring it over, Grillby sparks with a low disgust but takes the can. With a low cough, he gestures for you to back up before taking a deep swig. 

The burst of heat and flame has you wincing, even at a fair distance. Your jaw drops a little at the sight of him chugging down the liquefied gas like it’s an ice cold glass of water on a summer day. By the time the bottle is empty, some of the shape has returned to his head, though the edges of his face remain fuzzy with dark green flames.

You cautiously approach as he sighs heavily and sets the bottle on the floor. “Better?” 

“Hmm.” He certainly looks a bit better, at least a little. He blinks sleepily at you. “Hi.” 

“Hi matchstick.” 

The whine he makes at that is so utterly adorable you can’t help but take his little matchstick flame head in your hands and plant a kiss where you best guess his forehead is. Totally worth the slight singeing of your lips. 

“Do you wanna go back to bed?” you ask as you card your fingers through his headflames. Ow, hot. 

He grunts and shakes his head. “Stay....here,” he mumbles, tugging on your shirt. 

A grin pulls at your mouth. “Fine, but you should get some more sleep. Even an elemental needs rest when sick.” 

You sit and Grillby immediately slumps over so his head rests on your lap. He snuggles his face into your stomach and tucks his arms in close. Oh heavens above, you’re not happy he’s sick but he is unfairly cute like this. 

“Comfy?” you ask gently, rubbing his head again. 

He hums quietly. “Sorry,” he tacks on as a mumble. “It...will pass...quickly.” 

“It’s okay to be sick, it happens to everyone.” 

He mutters something else, but sleep is already claiming him. You stroke your thumb over his cheek. “Just rest,” you whisper, though you’re fairly certain he’s already slipped into slumber. “I’ll take care of you.” 

[littleoldrachel]

"well, it's the thought that counts"

for the wonderful @rachfielden-xo who literally sent this in a month ago (sorrrrry and thank you!!) and asked for well, it's the thought that counts with scott and alan from this prompt list.

this legit turned into scott teaching alan to make pancakes and i'm not even mad about it. the recipe the boys are using is [here].

[if you wanna prompt me, hmu!]

*~*~*~*~*

There are lots of things Alan doesn’t understand.

Black holes. Why his momma isn’t coming back ever again. The reason a Mars sunset streaks blue. Why Virgil has become some soulless cavity and John won’t say a word. How, despite year after year of technological advances, there’s still no evidence of alien lifeforms out there.

Why Scott never has time for him anymore.

It’s been days since Scott even said more than a few words to Alan, weeks since he last crushed Scott at videogames - he hasn’t even taken him to the park since -

Well.

And it’s not that he doesn’t love spending time with his other brothers; Gordon annoys the heck out of him on a daily basis but makes him laugh till it hurts far more. John is the one who gets him, who refuses to dumb down scientific explanations, who shares his passion for all things space. And Virgil - Virgil Before, that is - is the only person who knows how to hug him just right, who listens no matter how banal Alan’s worries are.

He loves them so much his heart might explode apart like a zombie’s head meeting his videogame character’s bazooka - except Alan’s not ever leaving them, not ever, not now he knows what that does to them all.

It’s just that Scott is fast turning into Dad, notable only by his absence.

And Alan doesn’t need another one of those.

More than that though, he can see the way his brother is running himself ragged trying to be mother and father and everything in between, and despite Virgil’s interventions and John’s best efforts, it’s not getting any better.

Which is where Alan comes in.

Alan is going to save his brother because he’s no baby, despite what everyone thinks.

What he lands on is simple but effective: he’s going to make Scott his favourite breakfast and draw him a card to say thank you, because he wants Scott to know Alan sees everything he’s doing to keep them afloat.

The card is straightforward enough - he’s no Virgil, but he’s pretty sure it’s clearly a rocket that he’s drawn. His tongue pokes out as he colours in as carefully as he can, only going over the lines a few times. He draws himself and Scott in the window of the rocket, grinning wildly (perhaps a little manically if he’s being honest) and adds Mars to the background.

Inside, in wobbly, looping script he prints:

Deer Scotty

Thanks for bing the best. I love you.

Love

Alan

Mission: Amazing Card - completed.

Now he just needs to make the pancakes.

Right then. First step is the ingredients.

In theory, this should be straightforward enough. Alan has seen Scott do this numerous times, had half-listened when Virgil taught John, and has eaten more of these pancakes than he can begin to count (but never enough!).

Alan pushes a chair against the counter, uses it to hoist himself onto the surface, and scrambles to the cupboard.

He knows that there’s a mountain of flour involved, because the little puffs of white powder always fluff through the sieve and make him sneeze. What he didn’t anticipate was that there would be different types of flour, in neat colour coded packages. He picks red, because it’s his favourite colour, and dumps as much of it as he can through the sieve, poking at it with his fingers to push it through.

It doesn’t look as neat as when Scott does it, and the entire surface is already dusted with flour, but most of it is in the bowl, so he’s doing okay.

He goes for brute strength with the eggs, smashing them into the side of the bowl. Little pieces of shell slide into the mixture with the yolk, but it’s so slippery he can’t get them out. Fingers coated in sloppy flour, he retreats. Maybe Scott won’t mind the crunchiness.

The milk carton is far heavier than Alan anticipated, and he loses his grip on the condensation-slick handle, watching in slo-mo horror as a glug of milk hits the side of the bowl, ricochets off it -

And splat!

It lands straight on top of Alan’s card, and Alan -

He’s not going to cry, he’s not -

His mom always said he shouldn’t cry over spilt milk, except this time it’s ruined everything.

Milk drips off the counter and Alan clenches his fists, willing the baby inside him to shut up. Eventually, the upset reassembles itself into a grumpiness that has him whisking furiously. The mixture slops all over the place, decorating the floor, countertop and his too-big apron with splatters of batter. It’s a lot runnier than Scott’s usually is, but by now Alan Does Not Care, he just wants to get this done and hug Scotty.

He’s just standing in front of the oven, wondering which dial is for which of the flame things, when the kitchen door opens.

Sixteen-year-old Scott, whose eyes have circles far deeper and greyer than they have any right to be, is standing there, and Alan becomes Very Aware all of a sudden of what the kitchen must look like through Scott’s eyes:

Flour absolutely everywhere (he can feel on his eyelashes and tickling his nose), little pools of batter all over the floor, Alan with his hand on the stove to work out how to make the fire come out -

“What the hell.”

Scott takes a deep breath, presses the heel of his hand to his eyes and says, “what are you doing, Alan?”

Alan forces himself to stand up tall like Dad always says. “Making you breakfast.”

There’s a pause, and Scott surveys the disaster zone once more. “I can see that,” he says finally, voice a little faint.

Alan swallows because this isn’t at all like he wanted it to go, but he brandishes the bowl of batter and does his best to peel the card from the surface. “For you!”

Scott stares, but takes the bowl. “Is this.... pancake mix?”

Alan nods eagerly, “your favourite! And here.”

The cursed milk smudged his amazing drawing, but it’s still sort of a rocket. Scott carefully prises open the card, and his whole body softens as he reads the message inside. “Allie,” he manages, “Allie, this is so -”

He presses a fist to his mouth and Alan watches in horror as his Neptune eyes shine overly-bright. This was supposed to be a nice thing, but he got it all wrong -

“I’m sorry,” Alan cries, flinging himself at Scott in a hug. “Don’t cry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make such a mess -”

“Allie, no -” Scott’s voice is firmer now, but Alan can’t bear to look at him falling apart like Virgil and John and Dad, because Scott is Scott and he can’t fall apart. It will obliterate Alan’s heart like a grenade in a zombie hideout if he has to see Scott cry.

Scott crouches though, and Alan’s forced to make eye contact. He’s relieved to see that Scott’s face has lost its sadness.

“Thank you so much for all of this, Allie,” Scott says, so sincere and so strongly, it washes something warm and safe over Alan’s shoulders.

“But it’s t-t-terrible! The pancakes are all wrong and I don’t know how to cook them and the card got milked and - and -” Alan can hear the wail in his voice and he resents it; it knocks hard into the defiant figure inside him that insists I’m not a baby!

“It’s not terrible, Allie. It’s - it’s lovely.”

“You’re saying that to make me feel better.” He can’t help but pout.

“No, I mean it. I love it - all of it.”

“Even the mess?”

“Even the mess.”

“Why?”

“Because… Well, it’s the thought that counts, Allie.”

Alan wrinkles his nose and Scott grins, using his sleeve to wipe off some of the stray flour. “I mean it. The fact that you wanted to do something nice for me makes me really happy.”

Alan hmphs, but tucks himself into Scott’s side and Scott obliges, squeezing him tight in one of those cuddles Alan has missed so much.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much, Allie, but I love you and I’m gonna do better, ‘kay?”

Alan stiffens and pulls away. “Wait no! That’s what this was for, Scotty.” He wants to stamp his foot in frustration so bad, but knows that’s Baby Behaviour and so he settles for a scowl. “I don’t want you trying to do more when you already do everything! I just miss you, I don’t need you to do anything better. I just need Scotty.”

Scott is blinking too fast for the second time in ten minutes. “Did Virg put you up to this?” he says a little hoarsely.

Alan frowns. “No. But if he thinks the same thing, shouldn’t you be listening?”

Scott’s eyes widen, and he ducks his head, covers his eyes again.

Alan goes back in for a hug, presses his cheek into Scott’s chest and listens to the steady thump-thump of his heart. He feels Scott take a deep breath and put his armour back up, and Alan’s heart makes a sad little clench.

“What do you say we make some pancakes together? Ones that are actually edible?” Scott clambers to his feet with a grin.

“Hey! They would be!” Alan protests, but then he looks back at the mixture, which is congealing in watery lumps and he fights a smile.

“But first,” Scott flattens the card and clips it to the fridge with a magnet, and Alan -

Alan’s heart skips.

It’s been a long time since any of them - even Virgil - have had anything hung on the fridge. But his little card - his silly, ruined card - is up there in pride of place and that means more to him than he knows what to do with.

Scott ruffles his hair, dislodging the flour that’s gathered itself there, and for once Alan doesn’t have the words to protest. Scott half-turns, catches Alan’s lost expression, and shoots him the gentlest of smiles.

“Ready to make the best pancakes in the world?”

As if he even needs to ask.

Scott easily sorts through the cupboard, drawing out the blue flour, a pot of baking powder, and some sugar. It’s all white.

“Why do they have to make all the important stuff the same colour?” Alan complains, and Scott laughs, loudly and easily. It’s a wonderful sound.

“Here’s something that’s a different colour,” Scott says, tossing eggs between his palms with an assured ease. “It’s egg time.”

He passes one to Alan, and Alan goes to smash it against the bowl, when -

“Wait!”

Alan pauses, mid-swing, and Scott plucks the egg from him.

“Gently, Allie. Like this.”

Scott repositions his hands so that his grip on the egg is looser, then gently moves his wrist to give one sharp tap against the side of the bowl. The egg breaks, golden yolk dripping out, but miraculously, no shell escapes.

“Reckon you can do the next one on your own?” Scott asks, and Alan nods at once. He looks to Scott to check he’s doing it right, and every time Scott is there to meet his gaze.

(As he always is, always will be).

Scott helps him to lift the milk carton, and between them, they pour it into a little well that Scott instructs him to dig in the mixture. Scott hands Alan a whisk with a solemnity that Alan recognises from Gordon’s pranks, and sure enough, no sooner than he’s taken it, Scott is brandishing a spatula and yelling “en garde!” and then it’s all out war.

“Loser has to whisk the mixture!” Scott says between parries, and Alan knows he’s being deliberately slow and clumsy but if that’s how he wants to play, then so be it. Alan blocks a few of Scott’s easy strikes, and feigns left, before darting right to jab him in the ribs.

“Victory!” he yells.

Scott crashes to his knees in mock agony. “You got me!”

Alan pushes the bowl towards him smugly. “Your punishment.”

“So merciful.”

“No talking! Only whisking!”

With Scott’s expert hands, the batter turns into a smooth, creamy mixture, and he guides Alan as the chocolate chips are poured in. “And now we fold.”

“Fold? Like paper?”

Scott grins, and Alan scowls. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“Sorry kiddo. Like this.” Scott shows Alan a gentle scraping motion that turns the mixture towards the centre of the bowl.

“Are we there yet?” The chocolate chips are making Alan’s mouth water, and as messy and inaccurate as his recipe might have been, it was at least quicker.

“Nearly. Let me just heat the pan.”

Scott dashes the pan with a blob of butter, and smiles softly as it begins to sizzle and melt, before he turns sharply to Alan.

“Hey, Allie?”

“Mm?”

“Please don’t use the stove without me or Virg there, okay?”

A ladle of pancake batter goes into the pan, and Alan stares at it in anticipation.

“But it was an emergency.”

“And you could have asked Virg, even if you wanted to surprise me.”

Alan frowns, crosses his arms. “He wouldn’t have helped, he’s always in bed these days.” Scott swallows, the crease of concern back between his eyebrows and Alan’s heart sinks. “I didn’t mean that. He would help, really.”

“He’s just really sad, Allie. Give him some time.”

“We’re all really sad,” Alan says, in a smaller voice than he intends.

There’s a pause, and Scott says, equally small, “I know.”

Scott removes the pan, passes it to Alan, and gently adjusts his grip, until -

“One, two, three, flip!”

The pancake does a perfect somersault, landing uncooked side down in the pan, and Scott beams, even though his eyes look so sad.

Silence falls once more, and Alan finally looks up at Scott, surprised when he’s already watching him.

“I love you, Allie. So much.”

Alan blinks, but the words come easily - he’s not yet at Gordon’s age where such declarations are Deeply Embarrassing. “Love you, Scotty.”

“I know the last few months have been really rough,” Scott says slowly, as though he’s measuring each word out like ingredients. “But never forget that I love you and all of us love you. It’s okay to be sad, but you don’t need to deal with it on your own, okay?”

Alan nods, tucks himself into Scott’s side once more, because the contact feels more important than words right now. Heck, he doesn’t even know what he could say to that. It’s everything he knows technically, but hearing it said out loud? It hits different in a way that knocks all the words right out of his head.

On cue, the pancake has turned into a golden-brown puffed up beauty, and Scott grins widely.

“Bets on who’ll be the first to smell this and make their way down to join in?”

Alan laughs. “Definitely Gordon.”

“Nah, Virg has a weird sixth sense about pancakes.”

*~*~*~*~*

They’re both wrong as it turns out.

John slinks into the kitchen, followed shortly after by a bright-eyed Gordon (“that doesn’t count, Allie!” “Does too!” “Does not!”) and a dull-eyed Virgil.

Whilst Scott and Alan stack up the pancakes, Scott corrals the others into beginning the clean-up process. There’s some good-natured ribbing about the Disaster pancake mixture, which has started solidifying alarmingly quickly, and Virgil spots the card on the fridge, turning to Alan with the first genuine smile he’s seen from him in so long.

Everyone is ravenous by the time there are a sufficient amount of pancakes for them all, and then it’s every man for himself as they wrestle for sauces and squabble over the last pancakes.

It’s the first time they’ve all eaten a meal together in so long, and it’s the best gift he could have ever given Scott, even though he couldn’t have planned the highs and lows of this particular adventure. Virgil is actually laughing about something with Gordon, and John is inserting the occasional comment with a smile, and Scott -

Scott meets Alan’s eyes with a proud smile.

Alan’s heart feels like it’s actually glowing, a soft, golden light in his chest, because he did that - he and Scott.

They make a good team.

And they always will.

[keyofjetwolf]

Chirashizushi, otherwise known as “Deception Cake”

Unless they come back to this for a part two (and while I don’t think they will, it’s possible), they left out all the information on how to assemble this thing. Like, what’s the “icing” on the top? Crunched up chicken flavour ramen noodles? Those French’s onion things? I’m a humble liveblogger who is absolutely inept in the kitchen, I can be of no help to you here. So if you’re looking to make your own Deception Cake, consider instructions outside of the cooking anime.

~~~

First, after rinsing the rice, you put it in a strainer and drain the water out. Then slice your carrots, lotus root, bamboo shoots and rehydrated shiitake and soak the lotus root in water.

Now, put everything you just sliced into your rice cooker along with the rinsed rice. Add a little less than the water-level marker. Then for seasoning, add soy sauce, mirin, and the dashi liquid from the dried shiitake. Normally, you'd boil the ingredients separately, but today I'm doing it the easy way, with the rice cooker.

Next, the kinshi egg. Mix the eggs, season them with salt and sugar, then strain them to make a thin egg crepe. Julienne the eggs and your kinshi tamago is done.

Bring the snow peas, strings removed, and the carrots and lotus root you'll be using for garnish to a quick boil in salted water, then cool them off in a bowl of water. Add sake to this pot and heat the shrimp. Then marinate them in sushi vinegar.

When the rice is done, pour the sushi vinegar, minus the shrimp, over it all. Then mix the rice in a vertical chopping motion. When your rice scoop starts to feel havier as you're mixing, stop mixing, then cool it off by fanning it. From time to time, flip your rice over to expose the hot parts.

Cooling it all off at once gives the sushi rice a nice sheen.

~~~

CONGRATULATIONS YOU HAVE BISHONEN RICE

Wow, there is so much here I have no fucking idea about. What is lotus root? Yes, okay assholes, “root of a lotus”, thank you, but it’s not something I’ve ever seen in the store, I don’t think, and I have no idea what it would taste like. I assume it gets soaked in water first to plump it up a bit, which only makes me more curious what it tastes like.

I’ve never heard of “kinshi” egg. Is that a cooking style or type of egg? No idea! Is that maybe the stuff on the top of the Deception Cake though? From the picture, it’s the only thing that looks to me like it might be egg, and if it’s mixed all in there, I’m not sure why you’d specifically julienne it.

Why the vertical chopping motion on the rice? If you do a horizontal chopping motion, does The Ministry Of Lying Baked Goods come for you? And while I’m on the rice, why the fucking BARREL for the rice? Larger surface area to cool it in, would be my guess, but does every household fucking have an eighth of a barrel just lying about? IT SEEMS SO UNWIELDY TO STORE I AM UNREASONABLY WOUND UP ABOUT THIS

Finally, standing around and fanning one’s rice may be the best, sheeniest way to cool it down, but let me tell you right now, I would literally never. That shit’s going on a cookie sheet and into the fridge, I do not have that kind of time.

Anyway, DECEPTION CAKE

[pregnant-piggy]

Summer Games - three

Blaise Zabini x reader

masterlist

warnings: no pronouns used for the reader, 

A/N: I had so much fun writing this part and coming up with all the stupid things! I really hope you like it :)

written for @omgrachwrites​​​ writing challenge with the prompts: ‘I can’t have this argument with you again.’ ‘But—’ ‘No, I’m done.’ and ‘Sorry… your hair was in your face… thought  I should move it so I could see you better.’

word count: 3.9k

The next morning Blaise awoke before Draco and rather than waking his friend too, Blaise got dressed in silence and slipped out of the room. He walked down to the kitchen, where he found you sitting at the table with a mug in your hands, reading the morning papers.

‘Might rain this afternoon,’ you said without looking up.

Blaise hummed something as he sat down opposite of you and poured himself a cup of coffee. He looked up and studied your face as you read the newspaper. Your eyes scanned the pages quickly, picking out the things worth reading. Blaise watched you for a few minutes until you had finished and looked up at him.

‘What you’re doing?’ he asked when you kept looking at him.

‘Looking at you,’ you smiled.

Blaise chuckled nervously. ‘I noticed that, yeah. But why?’

‘I’m probably not gonna see you all day,’ you shrugged. ‘Don’t wanna forget that pretty face of yours.’

Blaise straightened his back and blinked. ‘Don’t wanna—’

‘Good morning, lovelies!’ Pansy interrupted as she threw open the door of the kitchen and strode in.

Blaise was still turned to you and watched as you hugged Pansy shortly before she sat down next to you. She poured herself some coffee and looked at Blaise.

‘Blaise, stop staring, that’s rude,’ Pansy said and she waved her hand in front of Blaise’s face.

He quickly looked away from you and shot Pansy a nasty look before he turned to his coffee.

‘Pansy don’t bug him,’ you scolded and shot Blaise a kind smile. ‘It’s only morning.’

‘Fine, fine,’ Pansy said and she waved your words away with her hand. ‘I won’t bug him until later this day.’ She took a sip from her coffee and pulled a face before quickly scooping two spoons of sugar in her cup. ‘Where’s Draco?’

‘Still asleep,’ Blaise muttered. ‘I considered hexing him awake, but I still have to sleep here for two nights and Draco with a grudge is not someone you want to sleep next to.’

‘I am not that bad,’ a grumpy voice at the doorframe said. Draco walked into the room and flopped down on the chair next to Blaise. ‘Coffee, please.’

‘Sure, you’re not that bad,’ you snickered as you poured coffee in Draco’s mug.

While Draco drank his coffee, you told your friends what Game today would be. ‘It’s the last day before the winner gets announced. Yesterday while we were at the lake the other half of the teams played games in the fields. Before we set off today we’ll get the ranking so far, so you know what team to beat.’

‘But what are we doing today?’ Pansy asked.

A big smile spread on your face. ‘It’s the best Game of the whole festival. The organisation has put out a big scavenger hunt. It goes through the whole village and we have to solve riddles and collect things. You’ll get a list with things to collect and usually the team splits up in little groups and each group gets a part of the list.’

‘What sort of things do we have to collect? Because I’m really not interested in breaking my back from carrying a lot,’ Draco said.

‘I don’t know,’ you replied. ‘Usually there’s a theme to the hunt. My grandma helps to put it together and previous years she’d tell me what the theme was but she hasn’t this year.’

‘So we’ll just go around town collecting things? Isn’t that boring?’

Your smile faltered a bit and Blaise kicked Draco under the table. ‘Don’t listen to him, he’s a jerk in the morning. It sounds fun!’

You smiled thankfully at Blaise and after Pansy also reassured you that it sounded great, your smile was back on your face, and it stayed there for the rest of the morning.

/\/\/\

The scavenger hunt had officially started. A little earlier the scores of the teams had been disclosed; the Sly Foxes were on top with only two points difference between them and the Red Titans. Next were the Oiled Machines and at the bottom the Raging Angels. But just by a few points so all could change with the scavenger hunt.

The organisation had handed out the lists with the things to collect and the theme had quickly been clear.

Book of Spells … 7 pts

Iron Cauldron … 15 pts

Vial with Sleeping Potion … 12 pts

Witch Hat … 5 pts

Unnecessarily the woman of the organisation had added that the theme of this year’s hunt was ‘magic’ and both Blaise and Draco had had to refrain their laughter at the stereotypical items they had to collect. There was a whole list on ingredients for potions that no real wizard would ever think of using, such as goat milk and rabbit turds. Apparently Muggles still thought of witches as old, weary women in little shacks in the woods.

Blaise and Draco had been teamed up with three other Foxes. Neither of them knew any of the three, but after his little spat with Alysia two days ago, Blaise was more than happy that he wasn’t in her team.

The oldest of their team was Ivanna, a woman of thirty-four with a pale face and sleek brown hair. Despite the heat she was wearing long trousers and a jacket over her shirt. She’d told the rest of the team that she had a little baby of just two months old, so that if she seemed tired it meant she probably was.

The second of the three was the twenty-three year old student Mica. They had a dark golden skin and black, curly hair that had been cut short and dyed blue in the ends. Under the blue bangs lay two dark eyes that glittered with excitement and competitiveness. Mica was a student in London, but they had come back to the town where they’d grown up for the Summer Games.

The last teammate was the very young Raoul. He was the son of the man Draco and Blaise had met the first day of the festival at the stand with the cherry pastries, Hank. Raoul was just eleven years old, but he brought a childlike enthusiasm with him that made everyone in the team energized.

They were by far the youngest team, as all the other teams had the more aged villagers, so they called themselves the Sly Pups. Quickly they set to work and looked at the items on their list.

‘Does this make any sense to you?’ Ivanna asked as she handed the list to Blaise and Draco.

Errn rq srwlrqv … 7 pts

Eurrpvwlfh … 17 pts

Fordn … 9 pts

Fdqgohv .. 10 pts

‘I don’t get it,’ Draco said to the rest of the team and then he whispered to Blaise: ‘You didn’t take Ancient Runes, did you?’

‘No, I didn’t,’ Blaise answered and he looked at the sheet in his hand. ‘But I doubt these are runes.’

Blaise looked around at the rest of the Sly Foxes but they didn’t seem to have the same problems, as they were already heading off. Then he looked at the other teams on the field and realised that from each team one group would stay bent over their list while the others took off. In one of the remaining teams Blaise recognised you and Pansy.

‘You don’t think it’s a mistake, do you?’ Ivanna asked with frowned eyebrows.

‘No, the other teams have it too,’ Blaise said and he nodded to the three groups left behind around them.

‘Wait, this one we can read!’ Mica said and pointed out the first line on the paper. ‘”To understand the magic you must always think three steps ahead.” What does that mean?’

The whole team silenced as they thought about the possible meaning of the sentence. Raoul looked around on the ground as if he would find the answer literally three steps ahead of him. For minutes it was quiet and Blaise’s annoyance grew.

To make his irritation even worse two of the other teams around them, including your team, had found the solution to the weird texts and were now running off the field. Blaise let out an exasperated sigh and he shook his head.

‘It can’t be this hard,’ Draco said.

‘It’s some sort of secret language, but I don’t understand the three steps,’ Mica admitted and they rubbed their temples with their knuckles.

‘My dad taught me a secret language once,’ Raoul said. ‘So we could write each other without my other dad finding out. We changed each letter with the one next in the alphabet.’

‘Of course!’ Mica exclaimed and they took the paper from Blaise. ‘Does someone have a pen?’

Ivanna gave Mica a pen and they turned Draco around to use his back. ‘What are you doing?’ Draco snapped but Mica ignored him as they started to write the alphabet on the top of the paper.

‘Look, it’s actually really easy,’ they said. ‘Each letter is swapped for a letter three steps ahead in the alphabet! Just like Raoul said!’

‘So that would mean that the e in the first word is actually a…’

‘A b!’ Mica completed Blaise’s sentence. ‘So the first word is… book… on… pot—potions! We have to find a potions book!’

‘I’ve got one of those in my bag,’ Draco muttered, but Blaise kicked him softly on his leg.

‘We have to go the library!’ Raoul said and he ran off.

‘Raoul! Wait a minute! Not so fast!’ Ivanna yelled after him and the group quickly followed the little boy.

/\/\/\

Your team had quickly figured out the solution to the weird text and found a potions book in the library, accompanied by a little paper with the next clue. Now you were sitting on the wall around the garden of the library with your team.

On your right sat Pansy and on your left Quincy. Quincy was your grandparents’ neighbour and you knew him very well so you were glad he was on your team. He was fifty-five and he had studied philosophy at the university in the nearest big city when he was younger. You hoped his intelligence would be applicable in the hunt, and so far it had for he had figured out the secret language.

Opposite of you stood Chantelle, the forty-two year old town’s librarian. Despite her being in her early forties she looked much older. She had a wrinkled face and neck and always stared at you with big eyes from behind her thick glasses. Her appearance was deceiving however, because her mentality was as quick as that of a young adult.

The last in your team was a teenage boy only a year older than you and Pansy. His name was Christopher and you had known him since you were a small child and you went to your grandparents in the summer. He had dark curls framing his olive face that was always painted with a bright smile. This time there was something other in his smile too and it only made sense to you after he told you that his boyfriend was in the other team and he desperately wanted to beat him.

‘y/n too,’ Pansy had said and Christopher had raised his eyebrow.

‘Really?’

‘No! Blaise is not my boyfriend!’ you’d cried to which Pansy had laughed.

‘Who said anything about Blaise? I merely said ‘boyfriend’.’

Now you were all looking at the new paper in your hand. The next item on the list was an eurrpvwlfh; a broomstick. Though finding out what the next item was had been easy, the real problem was finding the place where. The text on the paper you had gotten from the person in the library didn’t exactly help you very much.

Where I am is always a mystery.

Over mountains I fly,

Or I cross above the trees.

Down on the ground I rest,

Still and motionless I stand.

Pansy sighed and she threw her head back, closing her eyes as she thought about the riddle. Next to you, Quincy was staring at the text as if that would make him any wiser. Every once in a while he would hum but he didn’t come with an answer.

‘We’re gonna lose our lead like this,’ Christopher sighed as he looked around the street for other teams.

‘Surely we’re not seeing something,’ Pansy said and she tilted her head to the side, looking at the paper from a different angle. ‘No offense, but the organisation isn’t exactly a group of highly intelligent people, so maybe we have to think easier.’

Christopher chuckled and you faked a scowl at Pansy. ‘That’s my grandmother you’re talking about!’ you cried and Pansy just shrugged. ‘But you’re right. I am sure there is something clear that we’re overlooking.’

Chantelle cleared her throat and pointed at the text. ‘Maybe we should take a literal approach. You know, look at the text rather than the meaning?’

‘Here,’ you said and gave Chantelle the paper, allowing her to put her full focus on it.

Down the street you noticed a group of people approaching the library. Running ahead of the others was a young boy you recognised as Raoul. He had a big smile on his face and was waving the list with things to collect through the air. In the group behind him Blaise and Draco were walking together, followed by Mica and Ivanna. They noticed your team and Blaise and Draco waved.

‘Not to put pressure on you, but I really hope you can figure it out now because if we don’t win from Blaise and Draco I will be hearing that for the rest of my life,’ you sighed and Pansy nodded.

Chantelle looked up from the paper and winked at you. ‘I got it.’

Your team cheered and Blaise’s team, that was just about to enter the library, looked around. Upon seeing your team so happy, their faces turned sad.

‘See you tonight, boys!’ Pansy shouted. ‘Losers have to do the dishes!’

/\/\/\

Blaise and his team stepped out of the woods with the broomstick in their hand. The broom was old and twitchy and Blaise had to stifle a laugh thinking of how different the real broomsticks were in the wizarding world.

Again it had been Mica who had guessed the answer of the riddle. Blaise wondered where the team would be if they hadn’t been here. Probably still working on the first puzzle. But Mica had figured out that the first letters of the sentences in the little poem formed the word woods, the place where they had found the broomstick.

Now they only had the next word, fordn, meaning cloak, and a silver pin. It was not much to go on but Ivanna had recognised the pin straight away.

‘It comes from Mrs. Heath’s studio!’ she exclaimed and looked at the little pin in her fingers. ‘It’s what she uses for her dresses!’

Unfortunately Mrs. Heath’s studio lay on the other side of the village and it would take at least forty minutes before they’d get there.

‘Forty minutes?!’ Draco cried and when the team set off he turned to Blaise. ‘Stupid Muggles, why can’t we just apparate?’

‘Oh shut it, Malfoy,’ Blaise said. ‘It’s fun!’

‘I’m gonna curse y/n for making us do this…’

Grudging Draco followed the rest of his team and though Blaise would never say it to his friend, he had to admit that his feet were beginning to hurt.

The Sly Pups passed little houses with colourful front yards, full of flowers and bushes. The main street was silent and all the shops were closed, as most of the inhabitants were participating in the Games and there was no need for the stores to be open. They ran into a few other teams, but none of those had the same list as they had.

After forty-five minutes they arrived at the old house of Mrs. Heath. In the garden there was a little path, past pink flowerbeds and a small pond with fish. Halfway in the garden the path split in two. One side led to the bright yellow front door, the other led to a wooden door with a sign on it that said the Heath atelier.

Ivanna stepped through the garden and knocked on the yellow door. A minute it was silent and then an old lady opened the door. She was wearing an orange with blue flowers dress that reached to the ground and her grey hair hung in a braid over her shoulder. Her lips spread into a smile when she saw the five people at her door.

‘You’re the first ones!’ Mrs. Heath smiled and she stepped out of the door. ‘Come, come, follow me!’

Blaise sent Draco a questioning look as they followed Mrs. Heath to her studio. Your team had been far ahead of Pups, having figured out where to find the broomstick before Blaise’s team even had the riddle. In the forest there had been two brooms already collected, but apparently the Sly Pups were the only ones who had found where the silver pin came from.

Inside the Heath atelier stood four mannequins with colourful robes. Each had a different colour and pattern. There was a dark blue one with yellow stars, a green one covered with red flowers and one coloured yellow with orange and red flames. Blaise snickered at the cloaks; the only one he had even seen wearing such colours was Dumbledore and he couldn’t exactly be called a normal wizard.

‘You take this one,’ Mrs. Heath said and she pulled a bright pink cloak with yellow and green crescents embroidered in it from a mannequin. ‘And also—’ she opened a drawer and pulled out a thin object in the shape of a circle ‘—this one. Good luck!’

Ivanna took the object and the cloak and ushered the team outside. In the garden she handed over the cloak to Draco, who took it with a frown, and looked at what Mrs. Heath had given her.

‘It’s a coaster,’ Mica said, raising one eyebrow. ‘Why would she give us a coaster?’

Before anyone of the team could guess, however, another group arrived at the house. You and Pansy were walking ahead, both with tired and sweaty faces, and the rest of your team seemed just as exhausted.

Blaise waved at you and you gave him a weak smile back as you walked with your team inside.

‘Does anyone recognise this?’ Mica asked and they looked around the team.

Everyone shook their head and they sighed as one. Ivanna brought the coaster closer to her face and examined it. She dropped her shoulders and shook her head again. ‘I don’t know what it is.’

‘It probably has something to do with the next item,’ Mica said and they pulled out the list. ‘Candles. Is there a place here that sells candles or anything?’

‘But what has that got to do with the coaster?’ Blaise asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Mica admitted.

Your team came out of the studio with the green cloak and Pansy had a coaster in her hand. You huddled a little away from Blaise and your team formed a protective circle around the object in Pansy’s hand.

Blaise was standing with his back to your team, but he could hear the whispers. While his team tried to think of a solution for the weird puzzle, Blaise tried to listen to what your teammates had to say. And it seemed like your team had sorted it out as quickly as Ivanna had sorted out the solution of the pin.

‘I know where this is from,’ Quincy said. ‘At Mikey’s they use these coasters.’

‘And that would make sense, because in a restaurant they surely have candles!’ Chantelle added and the rest of your team mumbled approvingly.

Blaise looked around and saw your team leaving the garden and heading for the main street. You caught his stare and smiled enthusiastic at Blaise, making him weak in the knees with the innocent laugh on your face. Butterflies were fluttering through his stomach and he felt bad for eavesdropping on your team.

‘Blaise?’

‘Yeah?’ Blaise tore his gaze from you and turned to his team, finding them all looking at him.

Mica laughed and shook their head. ‘Ivanna said that she knows someone who makes candles,’ they said. ‘I know we haven’t got much time left, but it’s worth a try.’

The scavenger hunt would only last till four, then everyone had to return to the fields, whether they had found all the objects or not. Now there were only thirty minutes left, so they had to hurry.

Blaise looked at his team and thought of what he had heard a minute earlier. If they went to the candle-maker they would never get to the restaurant in time, and that would mean that they’d lose from your team. However, when Blaise thought of you and how happy you’d be when winning, he just couldn’t tell.

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Sounds great.’

/\/\/\

You were lying in bed, staring at the shapes the lamp cast on the ceiling. Pansy was hopping around in the room, trying to find the pyjamas that she had thrown off this morning. Her footsteps were heavy sounds on the wooden floor.

There was a faint smile on your face. This afternoon your team had been the only one to return with all four of the items on the list. Though that didn’t guarantee that the Red Titans had won the entire scavenger hunt, it did mean that you and Pansy’s team had won from Blaise and Draco’s.

However, there was one more thing that added to your smile.

‘He knew,’ you said and sat up against the headboard of the bed.

‘Who knew what?’ Pansy asked as she was bent over in the closet.

‘Blaise knew where to find the candles.’

Pansy looked up at you. ‘What do you mean? His team didn’t find them.’

‘No, his team didn’t know,’ you said while Pansy took off her shirt and trousers. ‘But he did.’

Pansy neatly folded her clothes and placed them on a shelf in the closet. Then she closed the door and looked around the room. ‘Where the hell are my clothes?’ she mumbled before she looked back at you. ‘How do you know?’

‘He overheard Quincy telling where the coaster came from,’ you said and you lifted the pillow on the bed and revealed Pansy’s pyjamas. ‘He looked at me before we walked away. I could see it in his face.’

Pansy had sat down on the bed and pulled the shirt over her head. ‘So if he knew, why didn’t he tell his team?’ she asked and then a wicked smile spread on her face. ‘He let you win.’

‘He let us win, Pansy,’ you corrected, but even you couldn’t suppress a smile. ‘But yeah.’

‘So that’s why you’ve been smiling so much all evening!’ Pansy exclaimed loudly and you shushed her.

‘Shh! He’s still in the room next to us!’

Pansy rolled her eyes and crawled under the covers next to you. ‘Will you now believe he’s totally into you?’

You turned off the light on the nightstand and lay down, pulling the duvet up to your chin. You stared at the dark ceiling for a moment, thinking back of today. With a smile you took Pansy’s hand and gave it a little squeeze.

‘Perhaps.’

- - - - - - -

taglist

general HP: @harry-pottery-barn​​​ @potters-heart​​​ @kingalrdy​​​ @missswriter​​​ @figlia--della--luna​​​@sexysirius​​​ @awritingtree​​​ @bi-andready-tocry​​​ @lilulo-12fanfiction​​​ @ananad1​​​ @treestarrrrrrrr​​​ @your-hispanichufflepuff​​​ @thefandomplace​​​ @theeicedamericano​​​ @girllety​​​ @moonstarrnghtsky @swearingsolemnly​​​ @weasleydream​​​ @secretsthathauntus​​​ @amixedwitch​​​ @izzyyy-1​​​ @gryffindorgirl​​​ @kitkatkl​​​ @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts​​​ @nyotamalfoy​​​​

MASTERLIST

[love-takes-work]

Very Cool Potluck

Did you know that some people are so dedicated to reproducing Steven Universe recipes that they’ll both put cheese puffs in their sushi AND willingly bring durian into their homes?

I will teach you the basics of how to prepare the Cool Kids’ Potluck and also tell you the story of how I got food poisoning.

(Sorry, Lars’ ube roll is not included, because it didn’t make it to the potluck. It is available as a separate recipe, of course.)

See more SU food tutorials!

I decided it was time to do the Cool Kids' POTLUCK!

STEVEN: (holds up Snack Sushi) "Who's feelin' lucky?"

SOUR CREAM: "I brought the soda."

JENNY: "I brought the pizza."

BUCK: "I brought the assorted fruit."

And Sadie brought paper plates to complete the set. Too bad Lars's Ube Roll couldn't join them! 

Okay, so we have a four-part meal. Most complicated of course is the sushi! We can assume it is Snack Sushi, which I have made before but didn't really give instructions. Steven explains pretty well but doesn't give you a sushi rice recipe. How about I just tackle this here and show you how?

Recipe 1: SNACK SUSHI

Ingredients:

11 1/2 ounces sushi rice

1 1/2 cups cold water

4 tablespoons rice vinegar

3 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon salt

1 package nori (seaweed sheets)

1 avocado

1 bag cheese puffs

Mayonnaise

Hot sauce

First, sushi rice is made a special way. I am no expert, but the way I do it has worked fine for sushi in the past. First you measure out your 11.5 ounces of rice and put it in a sieve, then wash thoroughly with tap water.

Put it in the pan you will cook it in, pour the 1.5 cups of cold water on, and let sit WITHOUT COOKING for 30 minutes.

When the soak time is up, turn on high and boil. As soon as it hits boil, turn to low, cover, and cook 15 minutes. Then turn off the heat and let steam in the pan for 10 more minutes. You now have fluffable, tasty, sticky steamed rice!

Next, make your vinegar concoction. Combine the vinegar, the sugar, and the salt in a small dish. Microwave it to dissolve the sugar. I did this in a few 20-second bursts. It smells strongly but I love that smell. Make sure when you stir it, there's no sugar on the bottom! It must be dissolved.

Pour the concoction over the hot rice and stir it in. You are ready to work with it!

From there, it is as Steven shows us in "Cooking With Lion."

• Put nori on a rolling mat, rough side up

• Spread sushi rice on the nori thinly

• Halve the avocado, remove pit, cut in slices and rub a spoon around the avocado flesh to dislodge it

• Place the avocado slices in a line on the rice

• Place a line of cheese puffs in a line next to the avocado

• Roll compactly, tucking as necessary to get it into roll shape

• Cut!

You'll also need to make "spicy mayo" for the garnish. Steven uses hot sauce and mayonnaise. Mix together and squirt neatly onto the top of each roll.

"Who's feelin' lucky?!"

And that's the recipe!

Tip:

Use rice shortly after cooking. Refrigerate it if you will not be eating it soon after. Guess who got food poisoning from eating old rice because of this? CAN YOU GUESS?? 🤢

Recipe 2: PIZZA

So I've made pizza from scratch half a dozen times already for this show. I'm not gonna do it again. (Here's my personal Fish Stew Pizza recipe.)

Jenny simply brings pizza from work! So I decided to go the easy route and purchase a commercial pizza this time.

We never actually see the pizza eaten. I will assume it's the default pepperoni pizza and add veggie pepperoni to mine.

Baking in the oven per box directions as I figure out pizza boxes!!

Jenny's got four dang boxes of pizza on that table. I'm sorry, but I will not be preparing four pizzas. I live by myself and am not actually having a real potluck here. I will use comic book boxes to provide the illusion of many pizzas even though I am only cooking one. Shhhhh.

I actually used paper cutouts and markers to design my own Fish Stew Pizza box!!

Done! Next!

Recipe 3: SODA

Another recipe where I don't really make anything. I am just dressing up a bottle of Diet Coke.

But at least I made it look like the soda Sour Cream brought (termed "So-Duh").

Recipe 4: ASSORTED FRUIT

Oh god.

Buck, you clown. 🤡🤡 You went and bought various pokey-skinned fruits and forced me to BRING A DURIAN INTO MY HOME.

Folks, do you have any idea what durian is?

Let's just say it's known as the King of Fruits and it is SMELLY. You can't look up anything about durian online without related news stories discussing areas where durian is BANNED, neighbors complaining if you bring durian home, and tips on getting the smell off your hands and out of your breath.

I've bought frozen durian before to make Durian Juice Boxes. It was bad enough frozen. But then I had to go buy a FRESH STANK MACHINE at the Asian Market.

The things I do for this friggin show

So we have pineapple.

We have dragonfruit.

And we have &%#!%@ durian.

Durian! People! Do you have any idea what my house smells like!!! And they put it in a bag like that because you can't pick it up without GETTING STABBED! god what am i doing

Anyway.

There, you happy?

Here is my beautiful POTLUCK.

Add paper plates because Sadie brought them and now Sour Cream is thrilled he doesn't have to do the dishes.

Also, I'm sure it wouldn't be all that much fun if you didn't get a quick lesson on how to eat the weird fruits, even though the Cool Kids did not cut into them. Right?

So after I recovered from food poisoning from that rice, I put down a plastic tablecloth on my outdoor porch table, gathered an assortment of knives and plates, grabbed some gloves, and prepared these fruits for eating.

Dragonfruit:

Cut in half. Cut further in quarters and eighths. Peel the fruit out of the husk and store.

Verdict: I don't like dragonfruit. It tasted like weird, hurty watery kiwi. Maybe you should know I'm allergic to kiwi. This is probably related. I shouldn't eat this.

Pineapple:

Cut the top and bottom off and discard (including the bush at the top). Slice the remainder completely in half. Cut the core out--you shouldn't eat it. Then slice each half and slice again into manageable strips. Cut lines in the fruit and cut them off into a storage container.

Verdict: I am allergic to pineapple so I didn't try it, but it smelled amazing. I saved it for my friend.

Durian:

All right, stank fruit, here we go.

Cut the stem off and flip the durian to stand on the top where you cut the stem off. Use pot holders to manipulate because otherwise IT WILL CUT YOU. Examine the durian's shape and see if you can figure out based on its bulges where the huge scary pods are inside. Make a cut through the very tough husk and pull it apart with your hands.

Pods will emerge. They are soft and delicate, so if you hold them too hard they'll break. Each contains HUGE seeds. Take the seeds out before eating. Go around the rest of the durian and get all the pods out. It's a scavenger hunt! Store.

Verdict: The smell is literally not any worse when you open it. It is a very thick, pervasive smell but to me it didn't smell like a rotting corpse or poop or anything.

But then I ate a little bit and the aftertaste was really dark and musty. Dip a butt in tropical fruit syrup. It was pretty vile. I swallowed it though, and my mouth was Very Unhappy. I do not like durian.

I guess I'm 0 for 3. My sushi made me sick because I left the rice out for hours, I can't eat any of my fruit, and I reused the pizza to make a damn Pizza Steve.

But at least my life is interesting while it's being a disaster, huh?

At least I can still drink my So-Duh.

See more SU food tutorials!

[starryeyedrogue]

Lemon-Blueberry Cupcakes

as promised! I’ll put the real recipe (as written in my personal cookbook) and Rogue’s RecommendationTM lol, I always change the amounts of the flavorings (trust me, it’s for the better. we use FLAVORING in this house and I will not hear otherwise). tagging @padawansofthejediorder​ (as part of your care package!)

enjoy!! my family always fights over these, so if you’re bringing it to a gathering, make two batches lol! I added the quick and easy version for if you’re in a rush or can’t be bothered to make it all from scratch. both recipes are tried and true and my family’s favorites!

Ingredients for Cake

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour 

2 tsp. baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt (RR: be easy on this. maybe half this measurement. I learned the hard way so you don’t have to)

3/4 cup room temp. unsalted butter (RR: melt it. just do it. it’s easier to mix it, especially if you do it by hand like me)

1 tbsp. fresh lemon zest (RR: double it. just do it. maybe even 2 1/2 if you’re feeling bold, but it does provide ~texture~ so if that bothers you just use the normal amount)

1 1/2 cup granulated sugar

3 large eggs, room temperature (RR: set them out in a bowl on the stove as you preheat it. preheat it about half an hour before you want to bake)

1 tsp. vanilla extract (RR: triple it. you won’t taste it otherwise)

1/2 cup room temp. milk 

1/4 cup lemon juice (RR: if you want it to be more tart than sweet, double this! it’s normally a very sweet dessert)

1 cup blueberries, coated in flour (RR: it doesn’t seem like much, but if you add more they’ll sink and it won’t cook properly/will leak)

Ingredients for Frosting

6 large eggwhites (not the yolks. use those for something else)

1 1/2 cups granulated sugar

2 1/2 cups room temp. unsalted butter (RR: don’t melt it, it gives it ~body~ if it’s still a little solid)

2 tsp. vanilla extract (RR: double it bestie) 

1/4 cup freeze dried blueberry powder (RR: this is weirdly hard to find, so I used strained blueberry juice. if you do that, add powdered sugar with it for texture but only a little)

Ingredients for Filling (I highly recommend this, but still optional)

mashed blueberries (measure with your heart; maybe a cup or so? extras are good so keep it if there’s too much)

1/4 cup lemon juice 

vanilla (same deal. I usually use a cap full or so)

granulated sugar (maybe a teaspoon? to taste basically. I like it tart personally)

mix until it’s smooth. no sugar lumps here, no sir

Instructions

preheat oven to 350F 

use cupcake liners in your muffin pan (tin? idk, whatever it’s called)

in a medium bowl, mix the flour, baking powder, and salt. set aside.

cream the butter and lemon zest until smooth. add sugar (gradually) and beat on high for roughly 3 minutes. should be pale when you’re done

slow the speed and add the eggs one at a time. make sure it’s fully combined before adding the next. add vanilla extract

alternate adding in the flour mixture and milk/lemon juice mixture. fully incorporate after each addition (no lumps/chunks!!)

toss blueberries in 1 tbsp. of flour and gently fold into the batter

pour into the muffin tin/pan and sprinkle some extra blueberries on top

bake for about 30 minutes (poke it with a toothpick/knife. if it comes back clean, it’s done!)

let cool completely before next steps (if you don’t I will haunt your dreams and nobody wants that. don’t even think about it. it’s gotta be literally cold to the touch before the next steps or else Bad Things happen)

place lemon juice (1/4 cup) and sugar (1/4 cup) into a pot and stir. boil it, then let it simmer for 1 minute. stir occasionally throughout this process. let it cool completely

place egg whites and sugar into a stand mixer/bowl. whisk until combined

place bowl over double boiler (boil water in a pot and put the bowl over it) and whisk constantly until mixture is smooth/hot and no longer grainy

place bowl on stand mixer and whisk on medium high until stiff peaks form (until the bowl is no longer hot to the touch/you can hold the bowl over your head and it doesn’t fall. it takes longer than you think, trust me)

slowly add cubed butter and mix until smooth

add vanilla and blueberry powder (or juice, whichever is available) and whip until smooth (if you use the juice, it’ll take longer)

use a spoon to cut a small hole in the cupcake (move in a circular motion and pull out the guts lol)

place in blueberry-lemon filling, about a spoonful

place top/guts back on the cupcake

frost!! I like to add blueberries (don’t cut them. it gets weird and liquidy) on top and add any leftover blueberry-lemon filling as an extra topping, but you don’t have to:)

that’s a long recipe and it’ll take a while since it’s from scratch, but if you’re in a rush, use a lemon box mix, add the vanilla the recipe above calls for (in the cake portion) and make the blueberry-lemon filling. prepare cake normally, then add the filling like I explained above. feel free to use lemon (or vanilla) buttercream frosting from the store, just slap the extra filling on top with some blueberries! hope ya’ll like this!! if you make it, please send me pics of how it turned out and tell me about it!!

[honeytae]

That’s what I’m here for.

just being honest, this was literally me last weekend. if only i had min yoongi to nurture me through my breakdowns :( but yeah this is extremely self-serving, and i hope it can be relatable to some of my fellow students. every day that passes is one closer to getting that degree, my loves.

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy

genre: fluff

word count: 1.6k

“What the actual fuck?” You grumbled, staring at the large piece of text in front of you, eyes scanning the lines of the paragraphs in a desperate attempt for any of it to make sense. 

Yoongi’s head lifted from his phone, his attention shifting from his social media feed to your hunched over frame at your desk. With a frown, he dropped his phone on the couch cushion, standing up and waddling across the living room to look over your shoulder at the opened textbook in front of you.

Yoongi placed his hands on your shoulders, smoothing his thumbs over the back of your neck before he began to massage at your shoulders. 

“You’re tense.” Yoongi frowned at your bunched muscles, continuing to knead his fingers into the flesh in an attempt to soothe the aching area. 

You hummed in agreement, sighing as you tipped your head from side to side, your boyfriend wincing at the loud crack of your neck as you moved. 

He took advantage of your momentary distraction and shifted your papers around the desk, making a space for him to sit so that he could place himself in front of you.

“What’s going on?” He asked softly, chocolate brown eyes imploring your own glassy eyes as you pouted up at him.

“I’ve been studying for hours and nothing is sticking in my brain. I’m trying, I swear I’m trying but-”

You gulped mid sentence as you tried to hold back your tears, Yoongi reaching forward to smooth your hair back from your face, gently tucking it behind your ear as his other hand squeezed yours in reassurance.

“What can I do to help?” He asked, making you pout even more at the kindhearted man in front of you.

“Nothing, Yoon. This is your day off. You shouldn’t have to spend it coddling me, I’m an adult.” You sat up to look at your textbook again, straightening your back and easing some of the pain you had from sitting in that position for so long. 

You heard a sigh from above you, and then your textbook was snatched from your hands, instead placed on Yoongi’s lap as he scanned the pages of information that you’d been attempting to memorize all day.

“Yoongi-”

“Shush, angel, just let me help you.” He said stubbornly, pointer finger tracing down the page as his brain soaked in the long list of vocabulary, most words stretching across the page with their multiple syllables and impossible pronunciations. 

It was you that sighed this time, lowering your head to rest on your arms as you anxiously tapped your foot on the floor underneath the desk. 

You answered in mumbles to Yoongi’s questions, taking information straight from the pages to quiz you on the list of vocabulary you needed to know. You got some wrong, but whenever you did, Yoongi would give you small hints, making it cement in your brain as you heard the adorably tentative “It starts with an f”s and so on.

It was going pretty well until he asked you one of the open ended questions, silence filling the room as you racked your brain for any information, anything at all that would indicate some kind of clue to what you should’ve been saying. 

“I don’t know.” You said in defeat, the painful ball in your throat growing again as you became more and more upset with yourself. Yoongi placed a hand on your head to soothe you, the tone of your voice immediately cluing him to your emotions.

“That’s okay, angel. You’re doing great, these are hard.” He reassured you, leaning down to look at your face as his fingers stroked your hair back from your skin. He was silently looking for tears, ready to scoop you up whenever they inevitably appeared.

“They’re really not, though. I should know this stuff.” You picked your head up from the desk, staring straight ahead to avoid Yoongi’s sad eyes. You knew he hated when you were upset, but you just couldn’t help it right now. You felt like a complete and utter failure to both him and yourself.

“I don’t think I can do this, Yoon.” You lowered your voice in shame, Yoongi frowning deeper as he heard your voice break.

“Yes, you can. You are fully capable, even if you think you aren’t right now.” He reaffirmed, soft in his tone as he saw your weakening state.

“I don’t feel capable of anything right now.” You sighed, voice thick with emotion as you placed your chin on Yoongi’s denim covered kneecap, his hands shifting from the textbook to your scalp as his fingers threaded through your hair.

“That’s okay. That’s what I’m here for.” His hand trailed down your back, circling his palm in soothing patterns as you tipped your head up to look at him.

You cracked a watery smile at that, thankful for the man as he smiled down at you, his attention fully on you as he awaited your next words, knowing there was more on your mind.

“I’m scared that I really can’t do this, though.” You reiterated, sniffling as tears began spilling out over your cheeks.

“You can. I know you can.” He responded again, pulling you up from your chair to set you onto his lap. You straddled Yoongi’s hips easily, burying your face into his neck with an encouraging push on the back of your head from him.

You focused on the drag of his fingers down your spine and the sweet murmerings from the man as he rocked you from side to side in his lap. You don’t even know how long you were sitting there, zoning out as you concentrated on Yoongi’s deep breathing, obviously exaggerated for your benefit as he tried to get you to calm down.

You whined as he suddenly shifted you off of his lap, setting you down to sit in your chair as you looked up at him with a puzzled expression. Yoongi quickly reassured you with a gentle smile, reaching his hand out to grab yours and pulling you up to stand in front of him as he jumped down from the table. 

“Where are you going?” You whined, Yoongi kissing your pout before pressing his lips to the tip of your red nose, pulling back after he pressed a sweet kiss to the skin between your furrowed brows.

“You need a break. Come with me to the kitchen, I’ll make you some food and we’ll talk. No work thoughts for now, okay?” He raised his eyebrows as he posed the question, catching a stray tear from your cheek with a swipe of his thumb as you nodded in agreement. 

“But I have to-” You cut yourself off when you received a firm glare from him, extending his hand to you with a nod of his head.

“Okay.” You exhaled, Yoongi leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before turning around to head to the kitchen, pulling you along with him. 

You allowed your boyfriend to guide you to the kitchen island, pulling the chair out from underneath it and pushing it back in once you were seated. 

“You hungry?” Yoongi asked, head tilted to the side adorably as he smiled at your nod.

“Alright, angel.” He kissed your cheek sweetly, turning from you to direct his attention to cooking you a nice meal before he sent you back off to work. 

You watched as he began to skin carrots to put into the dish, cracking an egg into the pan on the back burner as he simultaneously watched over the boiling noodles in the other pot. 

You couldn’t help but feel guilty while watching Yoongi work, completely concentrated on taking care of you when this should be a day that you take care of him. His days off were so far and few between, did you really have to ruin one of them?

You made the silent decision to get up, scooting the chair back quietly and grabbing the cutting board from beside him. Yoongi’s brows scrunched in confusion as he saw you move out of the corner of his eye, turning around to see you at the sink beginning to rinse the cutting board off.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi asked incredulously, making you pause in your actions with wide eyes as he glared at you.

“I wanna help you.” You defended yourself, pouting under his glare as you looked back to the half washed cutting board in your hands.

Yoongi laughed in disbelief, setting the knife down on the cutting board and shaking his head as he placed his hand on your lower back to guide you back to the chair beside the kitchen island.

“This is your break. Let me do the work, please?” 

It was a gentle plead with you to let loose and let him help you, something that you reluctantly agreed to as you sat back down in your designated chair. 

You rested your head in your hands as you watched him cook for you, combining the cooked ingredients into a bowl before presenting it to you with two chopsticks.

He kept his eyes glued to you as he leaned against the counter, watching as you gathered noodles with your chopsticks and shoved them into your mouth. You moaned instantly as the flavor met your taste buds, your boyfriend chuckling as you quickly grabbed more of the dish with your utensils and brought it to your mouth.

“This is so good, Yoon.” You praised your boyfriend, reaching forward to flick your pointer finger at his chest when he responded with a cocky “I know.”

Yoongi easily caught your hand, using it to pull himself closer to you and press his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. 

“Eat up, sweetheart. I want that bowl empty.” He ordered, pointing to the food and back to you with his brows raised, a look that told you he wasn’t messing around.

“Yes, sir.”