#my hands smell like onions and carrots

[saylorsaysstop]

Third Date Etiquette | Bucky Barnes

a/n: Bucky is def my comfort character and writing for him when I haven't in so long is AHHHH. please enjoy 💗

pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

The ingredients lay before you on the table. Potatoes, onions, garlic, carrots, and most importantly–chicken. Your nerves were wracked as you studied the contents of the recipe over and over, practically committing it to memory. It was your third date with the extremely captivating and handsome man, Bucky Barnes. You two quite literally ran into one another at the local Starbucks–you with a very sweet and frothy latte, Bucky with a bitter iced black coffee. 

“Hi,” Bucky had said to you, piercing blue eyes like windows to the soul. You immediately took comfort. Weird, but you felt safe and you hadn’t been in his presence all but for 30 seconds. 

“Hi,” you answer with a sheepish smile, admiring your hands. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” 

He smiled in the friendliest of ways. It wasn’t every day you slammed into the hard chest of a man who looked as though he just stepped off of the latest Men’s GQ issue. His scent was homey, earthy. Woodsy and aromatic, he smelled like citrus and sex. The good kind of sex, too. Mouth-watering sex, the kind that will have your toes curling and aching at a memory recalled throughout your normal day. 

Introductions were quickly exchanged and you were shocked when the stranger who you found to be Bucky asked for your number. By the end of the day, he asked you to dinner, and now just a few weeks later this was lucky date number three. And you offered to cook for him. Your grandmother said that a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. So with that information tucked away nicely in your brain, you asked if he had any food allergies, and mentioned chicken, and Bucky was immediately on board. He offered to bring the wine. 

As you began to prepare your chicken and cut up your veggies, you heard the knock on your apartment door. A soft smile spans across your face as you wash up your hands and race for the door, eager like a teenager falling in love for the first time. Inhaling slowly to try and dampen the quick thud of your heart, you check your reflection in the mirror and ensure you look presentable. Opening the door, Bucky stands there in a pair of dark jeans that hug thick thighs wonderfully, a navy blue v-neck tee, and his jacket. In his hand is a bouquet of roses and the bottle of wine he promised to bring.

“Hey, Doll,” he smiles. It didn’t take him long to give you a sweet little pet name, and ‘doll’ was so fitting, as if he came straight out of the 1950s. 

“Hello, handsome.” you say breathlessly, ushering him to come inside. He steps over the threshold and pops a gentle kiss onto your cheeks, his warm lips and slight scruff a perfect mixture that sends your heart into overdrive and an ocean down below. 

You take the flowers and wine from him, laughing over your shoulder as he comments on your sweet little apartment. “It’s very cozy in here.” he laughs, admiring the bookshelf in the corner filled to the brim with all of your favorite reads. From historical romance to paranormal, all the way to romantasy and the occasional dark romance, you had something for every mood. 

“Thank you!” you beam. “It’s not much, but it’s home.” 

Bucky felt his heart soften at that. It’s not much but it’s home. There was nothing more he wanted in this world than to feel at home. To be quite honest, he hadn’t felt the essence of home since Steve, and he wasn’t so certain that he’d ever get to experience it again. But then there you were… bumping into him in that coffee shop. With your bright smile, ease of conversation, and breathtaking beauty. He was smitten and starstruck by you. 

“The flowers are gorgeous, Bucky. Thank you so much.” You exhale as you place the vase of water and flowers as a centerpiece on your kitchen table. Bucky looked around, noticing the prepped chicken sitting in a stainless steel roasting pan. Veggies were lined around it like a little bed for the chicken to rest on. He smiled to himself, eager to have a woman offer to cook for him on a date. It wasn’t something he was used to and he wouldn’t take for granted the sweet gesture. 

“I’m glad you like them.” He answers. You look at his jacket and laugh.

“Go on, make yourself comfy. Take your coat off. You can lay it over one of the chairs.” 

Bucky wets his lips as he shimmies out of his leather and lays it over the back of the wooden chair as you instructed. He admired the full view of you for the first time tonight. You wore a dress that dropped just to your knees and a pair of blush pink flats. You wanted something semi-formal but comfortable. The dress hugged your curves and Bucky’s mouth watered at the image of his hands tracing every single one, committing them to memory. He opened and closed the fist of his metal limb, his eyes fluttering shut. He wanted desperately to know how you tasted and not just what lay beneath that dress and panties he coould only imagine looked like–but your mouth. Your mouth looked so sweet and delectable, lips that were made to fit perfectly against his.

“Do you need help with anything?” Bucky asked, gazing around at the nicely-kept kitchen. You had cleaned up as you went along cooking this evening. 

“Yeah… You can make yourself useful.” You smirk with a playful tone to your voice. “You can open that bottle of wine while I grab us two glasses… You grabbed my favorite.” 

Bucky laughed. “I remembered you ordering it on our first date.” 

You stalled in front of the cabinets, the memory of that first day clouding your mind. How much of a gentleman he was despite everyone saying that chivaraly was dead. He pulled out your chair, let you wear his jacket on the way out because it was practically freezing, and he walked you to your doorstep where he kissed you goodnight. Not on the lips, but on the cheek, because he wanted to set the standard with you–that you were worth more than jumping headfirst. He wanted to feel you out, take his time. After all, you would be the first woman he’d grown to fancy in a very long time… and after Sam’s whistling over the picture Bucky showed him of you once he confiscated your socials, Sam was hollering for Bucky to quickly lock it down. 

“You paid attention.” you giggle, realizing that the wine glasses were sitting on the very top shelf. Grumbling, you were about to grab the stepstool before a warm hand ghosted across yours and a hard chest was felt against your back. Bucky effortlessly grabbed two glasses and locked eyes with you, his eyes not helping but to drop to your lips. 

If you weren’t trying to impress him with your cooking skills, you would’ve forgotten dinner all together and jumped straight to dessert. 

Bucky smiled at you as he unloaded the two glasses into your grasp before he went to work on popping the cork. You were enveloped with that homey scent once more, that citrus sending a shock appeal through your loins, your eyes fluttering closed. If you weren’t paying attention to maintaining your balance, you might just pooled to the floor then and there. 

As he popped the cork and you put the chicken in the oven and set a timer on your phone, he offered you a glass. 

“Cheers,” You smiles, clinking your glass to his and taking a sip. The feel of the wine on your tongue was smooth and silky, causing you to ponder if Bucky’s tongue felt the same. You lick your lips as you sat the glass down and admire him. 

“What?” Bucky asks.

Smirking, you shake your head. “I’m just surprised is all.” 

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow at the statement. “Surprised?”

You nod your head. “How I happened to score running directly into the arms of someone this good looking.” 

Your comment on his appearance sent a flush down the back of his neck. Bucky Barnes was not the kind of man that blushed, but he suddenly felt an odd sense of heat rise on the apples of his cheeks. He tucked his tongue into the pocket of his cheek and chuckled, cursing under his breath at how a woman, for the first time in his life, had the upper hand on him. 

“You’re all for flattery tonight.” Bucky chuckles. 

“It’s the truth.” You don’t back away. That was another thing that pulled Bucky into your orbit. He loved that you said anything that came to mind. It didn’t matter how outlandish or awkward it could sound, he loved it. You spoke your mind. You were the epitome of fearless and he knew he could use some more of that in his life. 

The longer you two stood there and the silence grew, it was one of comfort. You both drank from your glasses and Bucky knew that if he didn’t take his chance now, he wouldn’t ever do it. He stepped closer and circled a hand around your waist, dropping low on your hip. The feel of his large hand through the fabric of your dress sent a jolt of electricity down your spine as you peered up at him. 

“Jumping to dessert first?” You dare to ask.

“Doll, dessert has been on my mind since I woke up this morning.” Bucky drawled, his voice rich and deep. His warm breath fanned over your bottom lip as he searched your eyes, waiting for the invitation, eager for your confirmation that you too wanted some dessert before dinner. 

Grinning wildly, the tip of your head and the subtle pushing into his hard frame was all he needed. Bucky caught your thin between his fingertips and dipped low, his lips slotting against yours. 

Perfect fit. 

His lips molded to yours. They were soft and pleasant and warm and everything you could’ve dreamed of. He kissed you with such softness that it stole the breath from your lungs. You unhooked your fingers from around the stem of your wineglass and raised them, laying them over his shoulders. You took the leap of courage and deepened the kiss, being the first to run your tongue across his bottom lip, asking for permission to infiltrate.

Bucky opened his mouth a little wider and your tongues touched which sent both of you into a frenzy. A low grunt of approval climbed up Bucky’s throat followed by a breathy moan leaving yours. He turned you both so that the curve of your back was pressed into the island. He pushed forward, your body folding slightly across the granite as he kissed you deeper, kissed you as if you were the oxygen that was snatched from his lungs, kissed you like there would be no tomorrow. 

“Bucky,” You gasp his name as you pull away for a breath of fresh air. But you were so desperate to kiss him again. You never wanted to stop. 

Bucky’s eyes flickered with a deep sense of want and you had a strong feeling this date might just go to third base. 

He smirked down at you, the playfulness of his eyes putting you on high alert. His thumb grinded into your hip and in a flash, he had you lifted and your bottom on the counter. Wedging his body between your knees, a shrill of laughter escaped you as you drape your arms over his shoulders. Bucky comes back in, diving head first for more, this time with a lot more passion.

He didn’t hold back. Bucky’s hands gripped your sides and danced up until he was grabbing your face, the gasp flooding your lips at the mix of cold of his metal hand and warmth of his flesh one. You groan louder against his mouth as you tangle your legs around his waist and locking your ankles. 

“How much longer on that timer?” Bucky asked between deepening kisses. 

You glance down at your phone. “30 minutes.” You giggle. 

Talk about some third date etiquette. You wanted this more than anything.

“30 is all I need, Doll.” Bucky laughs, lifting you off the counter and leading you to the couch where he climbs on top of you, his hard body pressing against yours.

[insane-brit]

Royalty (Ch. 4)

Muzan Kibutsuji x Soulmate!Fem!reader

Chapter Links: Prologue, Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three

Next scheduled Royalty update (Ch 5.): I’m not on hiatus for this story or any others, however, my semester has started so updates will be slower and I cannot give a true update schedule at this time. Thank you for your patience.

Tags/Warnings: Dark, dark story/themes, enemies to lovers, semi slow burn, Muzan, talk of death, mention of gore, insulting/degrading words and names, anger/hatred, planning/scheming, light teasing (not the NSFW kind), dialogue, dialogue heavy.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: 2.4K

Steam wafted from the pile of white jasmine rice. Generating a warmth that relaxed her muscles and coaxed an exhale from the depths of her chest. Gingerly gripping the sides of the ceramic bowl, she pulled it towards her form. The plushness of the cerulean cushion cradled her bruised knees. 

“I hope you like Karē Raisu. It’s the first thing I thought of to make you.” 

She looked up at the older woman standing in the doorway. A tired smile graced her wizened face as she looked over (F/N). 

“I do. Thank you, Mrs. Aoki.” She whispered and grabbed the spoon next to the bowl. 

The clinks of the metal hitting the ceramic resounded in the otherwise quiet room as she mixed the darkened spiced roux with the rice. Thick cuts of beef with onions, carrots, and potatoes raised a potent aroma that made her stomach growl. Aoki beamed and the wrinkles around her mouth became more prominent. 

“I’m glad.” she meandered her way to sit across from (F/N). Setting her bowl down before slowly lowering her body onto a cushion. (F/N) studied Aoki, noticing the dark blemishes that almost looked akin to welts blooming across her arms, sun-kissed patches dotting her face, the droopiness of her skin as it weighed from aging, and the slight tremble of her hands. 

She sucked in a breath as the corner of her mouth ticked a ghost of a smile before settling back into a line. “Thank you for helping me. I am in your debt.” 

Aoki hummed as her shaking hands grasped her spoon. “Nonsense, I was merely passing through and heard your distress,” she blew gently on the pile of rice and broth. “If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought you were a dying animal.” (F/N) choked on her rice. Feeling it lodge itself in her throat as she coughed and flushed from embarrassment. Thumb grazing the corner of her mouth as she covered the lower half of her face.

“I apologize.” 

“No need. You were quite shaken, and I couldn’t leave you there,” Aoki sighed. “How are your bandages? Not causing any trouble?” 

(F/N) looked down at the carefully wrapped dressings. Her hands were covered in the cream-colored woven fabric. “They feel great,” she reached over and gently grazed the wrapping on her elbow. “What did you use?” 

“A salve I got from a nice young woman in Asakusa. I wish I could’ve acquired more things, but the young man accompanying her seemed less than pleased for me to be near her,” Aoki looked down at her bowl dejected. “But I’m happy this finally came in handy.” 

A benign smile crossed (F/N)’s lips as she set her spoon down. Today’s events weighed heavily on her mind, and it seemed her body was just now catching up. Fatigue settled into her bones and her eyes burned. The pads of her fingers rubbed the feeling away as she raised her head to look around. 

Aoki’s Minka was simple but pleasant. From the moment she helped her and Seiichi, paranoia, and all, to the front door of her home she was a delight. The lanterns adorning the rooms gave off a hue of glittering gold and sparks of amber. Exactly like most fixtures in people’s homes, but Aoki’s was much more inviting. It reminded (F/N) of flames licking at chopped timber; a sentiment to the nights her and the other Hashira would gather and reminisce, and the musty, earthy smell of pages being turned; memories of when her grandmother would read her old fairytales. 

The older woman even had bundles of wisteria hanging here and there in rooms. A few shrubs of the woody vine clung to her home and (F/N) wondered if she knew of demons. If she did, Aoki didn’t mention it to her. Nor look at her with any difference as she took the haori off her shoulders and set her katana off to the side before inspecting her wounds. In a way, she was grateful to not be looked upon in awe and bombarded with questions. She didn’t have the energy to answer or feel deserving of such a gaze. 

The rustling of fabric and slight grunt had her snapping her neck towards Aoki. The woman was standing with her empty bowl and picking up the miscellaneous things scattered on the table. (F/N) reached her arm out to aid her, but Aoki held a hand up, effectively halting her extended arm that was about to grasp a ceramic teapot. 

“I can do it dear. You’re my guest.” 

(F/N) furrowed her brows and her tongue ran over her dry lips as she spoke. “I insist. Please let me help you. You’ve done so much for me already.” 

Aoki shook her head and arched her brow. A teasing look in her eye. “I don’t think so. If you move an inch from your spot, I’ll make sure that crow of yours never hears the end of it.” 

The younger woman gawked at Aoki before a small snort sounded from her nose. (F/N)’s body shook as she tried to contain her laughter. The back of her hand rested over a smile that cracked over her face. The older woman teetered between scowling at the girl and joining in on her amusement. 

In the end, she hummed and chuckled to herself before staggering away to another room. “I’m being serious.” 

(F/N) took a deep breath trying to reel in her merriment. When Aoki was tending to her, Seiichi busied himself by stealing pieces of jewelry and even coins from the older woman. Flaunting them around and hopping away when either of them would try and snatch the items from his beak. She could still hear the older woman berating the bird in her mind, and she swore from the look on Aoki’s face that she was ready to wring his neck. 

“I hope you know how to play.” Aoki hobbled back into the room with a bag in her frail hands. She handed the cloth over to (F/N). The Hashira opened and poured its contents onto the table. Eyes widening a fraction seeing it was Men’uchi. 

“Of course, I do,” she said staring at the engraved clay pieces. “It’s been a long time.” The kind gestures from the older woman had allowed (F/N) to momentarily forget everything. She felt warm and something akin to safe here. 

“Then I suppose we should change that,” Aoki began separating the pieces before pausing. “Right, here.” She reached into her pocket before placing something on the table. It clinked when it touched the wood, and she slid it over to the young woman. (F/N) trailed her hand before seeing a thin gold pin poke out. The metal curved up like vines wrapping around a pale sea foam-colored gemstone, jade. An even thinner gold chain dangled from the stone and branched off into mismatched lengths. A cerise-colored bead held the trains at the branching point and at the end of each, a milky glass teardrop hung. 

Her mouth parted and she held up her hands as if afraid to touch the ornamental hairpin. “Why are you giving me this? I can't take it. It’s too much.” 

Aoki made no move to take it back and hummed. “Well, I’m not taking no for an answer. I promise it's fine so don’t question or fight me on this.” 

(F/N) gingerly picked up the delicate item and ran her fingers over the smooth metal. “Thank you.” 

“Of course,” the older woman continued to separate the pieces. “Oh, and please share it with that crow. Maybe he’ll stop taking my stuff.” 

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Muzan stood on the tatami flooring. His body hunched over his desk as his nails pierced into the wood grain. The vastness of the Infinity Castle caused echoes and creaks to magnify and drone. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up past his elbows. His eyes were sharp and shrewd as he glowered at the line laying in pristine condition across his workspace. Books were thrown open and some pages torn; shredded to ribbons. 

The surroundings felt suffocating. Desolation whispered sweet nothings in the expanse, and a looming presence stood stoic and ominous not far away from Kibutsuji. His aura felt heavy and stifling. As if zapping any energy or spirit from one’s body.  

“To think, after all this time,” Muzan said straightening up his posture and turning to face the man behind him. 

Kokushibo did not waver. His fist circled the hilt of his blade and the other rested at his side. All six eyes that resembled carefully soldered stained glass bored into his master's slitted claret ones. 

“It is… strange.” He drawled. His eyes flickered from Muzan’s to his wrist. A very thin thread, only visible in certain angles of light, shone and connected his lord to someone far off. It glittered like a spider’s silk. Spindly and thin; stronger than steel but looking as if it could break with the slightest tug. 

Muzan’s face remained constant upon looking at Uppermoon One. Though, the warmth that fury carried crept along his collar. “You can see it?” 

“Yes,” Kokushibo shifted slightly. The fabric of his purple-and-black kimono ruffled against his hakama. “I suspect…it is the lifeblood’s doing.” 

The progenitor’s brows dipped downwards but an inch. Festering anger bubbled like molten lava. The ambrosia: rich velvety fluid that ran through his core, that had Oni’s imploring their master for more, was what granted them the sight of what he despised. Slipping a pen ornamentally engraved from his pocket, he clicked it open. The tip scratched the smooth paper in the book he now clutched. His apprehensiveness showed faintly from the bone-breaking grip he had around the cool metal. 

It made perfect sense. His creations were an extension of himself. Remade into cutthroat violent things with the weight of his ichor circulating in their undying bloodstream. They were him, but also themselves. 

“How does it appear to you?” Muzan hissed through his teeth. 

Six eyes and their cracked black pupils focused studiously on the filament. “Like… a phantom. Clear and… barely visible.” 

The sound of ripping reverberated through the endless wooden rooms as Muzan’s pen tore through the paper. His knuckles were white, and his jaw clenched. This did not bode well for him; however, a trace of possibility crossed his mind. If the upper ranks, who pulsed with his vitality, could barely bear witness to the tie, then maybe beings less fortunate to receive generous amounts of his blood could not at all. It was a stretch, but one that seemed likely. 

This thought eased Muzan’s pride. He would not be perceived to have a weakness of any sort. His Kizuki knew better than to assume such foolishness, but others he could not be so sure of. Muzan would be damned if some sly little vermin thought they could exploit something the progenitor had no control over appearing. Much less presume that he cared for the woman connected to him. 

“The woman… was a Hashira, was she not?” Kokushibo queried. 

“Yes, but I doubt her abilities considering the cowardice she expressed,” the book slammed shut with a loud crack. “She must not be very valued.” 

Kokushibo’s voice thrummed in his throat. “Valuable or not… she poses a threat. Or… an opportunity.”  

Muzan’s lip curled back into a snarl and his eyes narrowed. He was not blind. The desire to sever the bond even if it was in vain, and the ire that overcame him when he saw the mockery that was the slayer consumed him, but he remained conscious of the possibilities. If that spineless woman were to open her mouth, it could be detrimental to everything he’s worked towards. 

“That Hashira can lead the corps to us. Ubuyashki will make sure of that.” he bared his teeth. 

“Even so… if he were to be eliminated… they will tuck their tails between their legs and run to the hand that feeds them. Without him, they are nothing.”  Kokushibo uttered lowly.

His subordinates’ words weighed heavy on Muzan’s mind. Ubuyashki was skilled in eluding even his most capable forces, however, the slayers had a weak spot for him. It was clear in the way they held themselves, and it was no secret how deep their loyalty ran. He could see it on their faces and when they would speak. Granted, it was rare that Muzan ever came across a swordsman that would divulge anything regarding their master, but in his over one thousand years of existence it has happened, and once was all it took. 

They were soft at their core, and regardless of whether he located Ubuyashki’s estate and sunk his claws in his tender flesh, tasting the coppery substance on his tongue, or dangled an empty threat over their heads they would scramble and wail to his side. 

“You propose a possibility that none of you have been able to achieve. Yet, your strategy pervades you Kokushibo.” 

The man in question tilted his head down slightly in acknowledgment. 

“Misleading the Kisatsutai into thinking their lord is in danger would divert their attention to him and not locating us but preventing the woman from speaking would sever the chances completely,” Muzan took a few steps towards Uppermoon One. His posture was rigid. “In turn, the wretch could provide an advantage.” 

Kokushibo studied his lord’s stature. The abhor was formidable and bled through his skin. He had seen Muzan’s wrath many times but the moment he had disclosed what the Uppermoon had understood upon being summoned, he had never felt animosity such as this. It was explicit as to why, and he would feel the same if he was bound to a mere mortal. 

“What are your orders?” he asked easing the grip on his blade. 

“Follow the thread. Find the slayer and do what you must to ensure her silence, but don’t kill her,” Muzan growled. “Don’t disappoint me.” 

“I will not… is there a reason why I can’t end her life?” 

“Don’t be daft,” Muzan seethed. “You know why, and I will not leave it to chance.” 

Kokushibo mulled over Muzan’s response before it clicked. “I’ll see it done, my lord.” He lowered his head in respect before his aura faded. His presence no longer there to cast a baleful weight. 

Muzan curled a finger under his tie and pulled, loosening the silk. He had the notion to take care of this matter himself, but he was not about to risk revealing himself more than he already had. The boy with the Hanafuda earrings and now the Hashira woman was enough to pose a risk. His hair flitted over his jaw as he ruined the tomes sitting on the umber shelves before moving to tear into the desk with his nails. The timber screeched in agony as long marks were formed on the unblemished surface. 

Taglist: @shellseys @athalahild @stxrrielle @lulu-83 @nianre @sincerely-aaronette @horror4themasses @warringwarrioridiot @vilshoenheitishot @woozzz @kathleen7i

[thoughtssvt]

The Orange Peel Theory

[the orange peel theory: the idea that someone cares enough about you to do even the most mundane tasks that you are completely capable of doing yourself - an act of service in the small things]

synopsis : megumi shows yuji that he'd peel an orange for him despite the rind getting stuck under his nails and the citrus smell sticking to his fingers.

(this isn't about oranges- it's actually about dumplings, but you get it....)

word count : 835

"Alright, let's get this going. Nobara really takes advantage when I offer to cook for her parties," Yuji craned his neck from side to side, rolling up his sleeves before stepping in front of the sink. "I mean, come on–" he started, meticulously scrubbing his hands with a heavy sigh as he thought about the tedious prep work he'd have to do to make his famous dumplings.

"The thinly sliced carrots piss you off," Megumi interjected with a small smile on his face, "That reminds me, I have a surprise for you," Megumi quirked his brow towards the refrigerator. "It's not much, I'd probably burn the whole house down if i tried to actually help you with the cooking, but–”

Yuji padded over to the fridge wondering if Megumi just decided to buy premade dumplings to avoid the hassle.

His back creaked as he bent down to come face to face with the lower half of the appliance, mild anticipation sparking with the creaking hinges of the door. A breath caught in his chest, his heart coming to a complete stop. He felt silly with the way he audibly gulped and tears brimmed in his eyes.

It had been a mindless rant. Nothing serious. The two of them laid in bed the previous night, Yuji scoffing at his phone as he saw Nobara’s texts asking if he could bring his homemade dumplings.

"The prep work is so time consuming, I'll have to try and come home early tomorrow," he’d sighed. "The recipe is a blessing and a curse,” he groaned as he buried his face into Megumi’s chest. “I like my dumplings as much as the next person, but everything has to be so finely chopped and it takes so long," Yuji continued.

Before him, now, were containers full of prepped vegetables. Shredded carrots, minced ginger, stringy green onions.

"You did this?" Yuji's voice was small, a hairline away from cracking as he turned to Megumi with his arms full of containers. All labeled and packed to preserve freshness. Scallions floating in water and leafy greens topped with a paper towel to keep them from wilting. Fushiguro knew next to nothing about cooking, let alone prep before Yuji came into his life. The sentiment that he went out of his way to do this all so perfectly had Yuji’s heart swelling in his chest.

"I mean, yeah, you hate doing the prep," Megumi shrugged, gesturing to the veggies, his fingers wrapped in bandages that had tigers and bunnies printed on them, cutesy ones Yuji always had in his pocket in case he came across a child that slipped and scraped their skin. “I know you're always standing for so long and it hurts your knees.”

"You don't know how to cook," Yuji whispered, dumbfounded, earning a snicker from his boyfriend.

"Chopping is different from cooking. Like I said, I probably would've burned down our apartment if I tried to help you cook." He huffed a stronger snort, the corners of his lips tugged into a wide grin.

“It takes you forever to chop anything. How long were you standing here? It was your day off,” his lips wobbled trying so hard not to let his tears slide down his cheeks. He sucked in a hiccup as he thought about how his boyfriend stood in the kitchen for most of the day, wincing every time he nicked his fingers, shifting his weight between his feet as the time weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Megumi stepped towards Yuji, wiping the stubborn tears from his boyfriend's lash line. "It's not a big deal, you don't have to cry." He cooed softly, pulling Yuji in close.

"You saved me a lot of time," Yuji rasped, hands clinging to the pockets of Megumi's sweats.

"I know," Megumi chuckled fondly, planting a soft kiss high on Yuji's cheek.

"And you hurt yourself," he acknowledged, taking Megumi’s hands in his, holding them to his chest. 

"It's not too bad. I'll get better. Won't cut myself too much next time," his boyfriend assured, bringing in a fresh sting of tears to the skin around Yuji’s eyes at the implication that he would be more than willing to prep vegetables for him again. Yuji had always done things himself. He never imagined anyone doing such small gestures, tiny things you'd never think of doing for another person. He was perfectly capable of doing it himself, everything Megumi knew about cooking came from him. There was no doubt in mind that his boyfriend knew that these were things he could do–  easily– but he did them anyway because he knew how much Yuji hated doing it. It started out as a small rant, nothing had to come from it, but Megumi took it to heart, taking time out of his day to think of ways to give Yuji an easier time.

"And I love you," Yuji rasped with closed lids as he nuzzled his face into the crook of Megumi’s neck.

"I love you too."

[myers-meadow]

Michael Myers x reader: Sunday roast

Title: Sunday roast

Summary: Michael had expectations of the world, what it would be like when he was free again - but the reality was a little less bright. One evening his hunger drives him closer to a warm house, drives him to you.

Warnings: can be read for any version of Michael. Deals with his thoughts and situation after his escape. Sfw. Not that shippy but perhaps that will come later :)) Happy early Halloween!!

Wordcount: 934

Link to my masterlist

Divider by @/firefly-graphics

A month. That’s how long had passed since he escaped the sanatorium. He thought being out would change him, but it hadn’t. His mind was as busy and annoying as ever – and his dreams were worse. His old childhood home was still home, but it had little of the comforts it used to have. Food didn’t magically appear in the cabinets, no one concerned themselves with him in there, the only thing it held was a filthy mattress and mice in the walls. He liked the mice, though, they weren’t the problem.

.

And so the days filled themselves. Stealing food, seeking shelter, trying anything to get to a stable mental space. It lasted him a week, during which it rained those bone chilling October rains. He went out, hood over his head, mask on, knife in the pocket of his stained coveralls. Few houses still had the lights on at this hour. The rain was a light drizzle, but the biting wind made it cold. There was a smell in the air, beside that of wet pavement, something warm and familiar. Food. It came from a house with the lights on in the kitchen. Michael came closer to the house, closer than he normally dared at this stage of his hunt, close enough to hear the clatter of the spatula as you dropped it on the counter. The oven beeped, a waft of heat made you recoil, before hands in oven mitts carried the tray to the table. Roast potatoes… How long had it been since he had those? His mouth watered. A twitch in his hand made him realise his hunger out won his bloodlust, at least tonight. And those potatoes are best when they’re still hot.

.

You didn’t notice him when he slipped in the house, nor the kitchen. He rapped his knuckles against the wood, and you turned around startled. You jumped as you saw him, his white rubber mask, spatula still in hand, onions sizzling away in the pan. Before you could act or speak, he pointed to the tray of roast potatoes on the table in between the two of you.

Eyebrows knitting together in either confusion or fear. “Food? You are hungry?”

Instead of an answer, Michael shoved a chair back and sat down. He watched as the thoughts crossed your face, from alarm to confusion to a final resolute decision.

“That’s quite a familiar mask,” you said, as you reached for a plate from the cabinet and put it in front of the stranger. The spatula too, Michael took it from your hand impatiently and helped himself to a generous serving.

“It must’ve been tough, finally getting out and then this cursed rain never stops,” you say, mindless, as you turn your back to him to grab a second spatula from the drawer and stir the onions. Then halted your movements, and got a fork and let it clatter down on the table, for Michael to grab and use.

Even the smell of burnt onions were a delight. He rolled up the bottom of his mask to allow himself to eat, peeking to ensure you weren’t looking. When you turned around at the second scrape of the fork on the plate, you quickly averted your eyes. Breathed deep, hands gripping the counter, before you resolutely gripped the pan handle and carried it to the table. Without asking, you scooped a good amount of mushrooms, onions and carrots in gravy on Michael’s plate.

Not knowing what else to do, you sat down, dejected, across from him and ate small bites. As he watched you like a hawk, it truly seemed you weren’t reaching for to phone on the wall by the kitchen window, or to do anything shady with the knife that’s still on the cutting board. He devoured the first serving, determined to get as much food in, before things would inevitably go south. A second serving; smaller but still sizable. He was a large, famished man. His hunger was satiated by then, but the homely taste of potatoes in butter and onion gravy made it difficult to stop himself from enjoying a little more.

When he shoved the plate away from him and stood up, it was as if the world returned into razor sharp focus. You hadn’t eaten nearly as much as him, too nervous, but were wide eyed with innocence beyond those nerves. Following his movements, you too stood, but immediately pulled open the fridge.

“Dessert?”

He breathed out, this was truly like a feast. His birthdays, he’d remember his momma with the same tone, asking if he wanted pudding, or candy when they’d watch a movie on tv that went on until later than his bedtime. He nodded, flexing his hand, trying to ground himself. What was this feeling? Good food. That was all. Good food nourished him, satisfied him. And now there’s dessert.

There was just one case of pudding, and you stuck two spoons into the large cup. It was a family portion, no doubt. You ate with him then, although he was quicker, and was the one to finish it all.

“Sweet tooth?” you asked, eyebrow raised, after the spoon clattered against his plate. He leant back, smoothing over his coveralls. You stood and gathered all the dishes to wash, a process during which he slipped out as unnoticed as he came. A mercy unlike any before. Sighing and taking survey of the amount of dishes to be done, you called out from over your shoulder, jokingly: “The cook is relieved of dish duty?” only to be met with silence.

[secretobsessionstuff]

Alexi Appendicitis

I'm really happy with this! There's so much hurt/comfort. I had blast writing it!

CW: Medical emergency, appendicitis, ruptured appendix, mention of possible death. Do not fear, Alexi is perfectly fine at the end!

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

It was unfortunate that Madix and Riley couldn’t join the gang on vacation when they were the ones who suggested the ski lodge in the first place. They’d been to this winter resort before and knew that their friends would absolutely love it. Despite coming down with a nasty flu while they’d been there, Madix still remembered the trip fondly. Hopefully nothing like that would happen this time around for their friends. 

Micah and Alexi ended up getting a room across the hall from Dakota and Blair. Dark wood, lush carpets, and dim lighting made the lodge feel cozy and warm. A fire crackled nearly everywhere they went. It was exactly what they expected and exactly what they needed. The four of them were tired from travel. They sluggishly dropped their suitcases off at their rooms before heading down to the dining hall for a late dinner. 

Alexi lingered at the doorway, hesitant to follow Micah down to the main floor where the smell of steak and onions wafted up from. 

“You coming?” Micah popped his head back into the room where his boyfriend stood rigidly with a hand over his abdomen. 

“I’m not that hungry. My stomach still feels off from the drive here.” He wasn’t prone to motion sickness, but the ride must have messed with his insides because a dull ache still nested above his hip bone. It was an odd place for a stomach-ache. On vacation was also an unfortunate place to get a stomach-ache so bad he felt like his intestines were knotted up. 

“I bet there’s tea at the dining hall. That might help settle your stomach.” As Micah said this, he realized that a ski lodge would probably have the best selection of warm teas. Chamomile, peppermint, ginger, you name it, they would help with Alexi’s pain. Relaxing with their friends was likely to take his mind of the ache as well. “Please come with me, Lexi. I want to spend all my time with you.” 

“You already do that.” 

“Ah but not in a hot tub or by the biggest fucking fireplace I’ve ever seen. Come on, we’ll have a good time, I promise.” 

Alexi couldn’t resist Micah’s soft eyes. Of course, he followed his boyfriend to the main hall where the most comforting of food was being served. Mashed potatoes, cheesy casseroles, and baby carrots that shone with a brown sugar glaze. Not to mention all the hot chocolate one could ever need. Alexi figured it wouldn’t be long before his boyfriend found the chocolate fondue that spilled over in a fountain. He decided to eat the fresh fruit that went with the fondue but skipped the thick chocolate syrup. 

“Yo guys!” Dakota exclaimed when they met at a table. The table was a literal tree trunk that had been sanded, stained, finished with a glossy layer. Dakota set his massive plate down on the wood. “There’s a whole section dedicated to cheese. I love this place!” Blair’s plate was piled high as well. She smiled and shook her head at Dakota while digging in. 

The two of them wore plaid sweaters and warm beanies, really embracing the cozy vibes. Alexi didn’t understand how they could wear such heavy clothing without melting. He wore only a short sleeve shirt and was still sweating. From the beneath the table, he dragged his palm over the sore spot in his tummy, feeling feverish and fatigued. 

“You’re being very conservative with your food selection, Alexi,” Blair remarked as she eyed his plate of fruit and crackers. “Kota would be more than happy to show you to the cheese table.” 

Micah laughed for Alexi and placed a hand on his back. “Lexi’s still feeling a bit bad from the drive here.” 

Blair frowned sadly. “It could also be altitude sickness. We’re pretty high up in the mountains.” 

Alexi hadn’t thought of that, but it was very likely. He was dizzy, fatigue, and nauseous. He groaned, realizing that the entire trip would be spent above the clouds. He put his head in his hands right there at the table and let out another loud groan. “How do I make it go away?” 

“You just have to let your body adjust. You should feel better tomorrow morning.” Blair quickly pulled out a bottle of Tylenol from her purse. “Altitude sickness can mess with your sleep, so you can take these pills to make you drowsy. It’ll also help with the headache.” 

Alexi gladly took the medication. He hoped it would start working fast. “Thank you, Blair.” 

“Don’t mention it. I just want to crush you all at skiing tomorrow and I can’t do that if you’re sick.” 

Dakota laughed. “Honey, we’re supposed to be relaxing on this trip, not turning it into a competition.” 

“Winning is relaxing for me.” She beamed at the three of them and smirked. When her eyes landed back on Alexi, the smile faded from her face. He really didn’t look well. His features were twisted in pain, sweat dripped from his temples, and his eyes were lifeless. “Don’t worry, Lex, you’ll be a worthy opponent by the morning.” 

“I hope so,” Alexi said, already falling asleep at the table.

It wasn’t long after that before Micah rose from his chair with a hand on Alexi’s neck. “I think it’s time I get this one to bed. Does that sound good, baby?” To which Alexi nodded weakly. 

“Blair and I were going to go in the hot tub later. Do you want to join us?” Dakota asked. 

“Maybe. I’ll have to see how Alexi feels.” 

Micah helped his boyfriend up and together they walked back to the room. He helped Alexi get ready for bed. The sheets were nice and cold when he got under the blankets. “Go with ‘em in the hot tub,” Alexi slurred as he pulled the blankets up around his neck. “I’ll be fine.” 

“Are you sure?” Micah leaned over to kiss his boyfriend. 

“Yes.” Drowsy and drained, Alexi drifted off to sleep before Micah’s lips even left his forehead. 

• • •

It was not quite dawn when Alexi was woken up by a horrible pain in his belly. His partner slept soundly next to him, hair mussed and snoring softly. Oh, how Alexi would have loved to drift off back to sleep for a few more hours, cuddled up next to Micah. He could imagine how Micah would instinctively pull him closer even in his slumber. It would be warm and safe and perfect. 

But nope! His stomach wasn’t going to let him do that. It felt like someone was punching him repeatedly in his abs. Each spasm made him tense up and clench every muscle in his body. He rolled out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. The pain made walking hard, so he shuffled along the carpet like an old man, hunched over and mumbling about everything that was wrong in the world. 

His breathing was shallow and rapid as he lowered himself to the floor in front of the toilet. When another sharp stab coursed through his abdomen, he lurched forward with a heave. A decent wave of vomit splattered into the water. He gripped the edge of toilet so hard his knuckles blended into the white porcelain. The sick burned the back of his throat and his nose. 

He was in the middle of coughing and clearing the phlegm from his throat when the next wave slammed into him. The pain burst from the middle of his belly, filling his guts with what felt like poison. More sick landed in the water below and splashed back up at him as if to say fuck you. 

Alexi groaned. If this was altitude sickness, he vowed to never leave lower grounds again. Sweat drenched his back and armpits, yet he shivered on the bathroom floor. He felt his body losing the battle against gravity. Eventually he lay down completely, resting his head on the soft bathmat. He must have been vomiting for over an hour because when he looked at his phone, it read that it was almost six in the morning. How much longer did he want to let Micah sleep before his craving for comfort and human contact became unbearable? Like Dakota said, this trip was supposed to be relaxing. There was nothing relaxing about being woken by your partner who was whining on the floor.

But Alexi let himself whine and groan because it hurt so damn much. He curled into a fetal position and weakly called out Micah’s name. The first attempt was pathetic. He could barely hear his own gravelly voice. 

“Micah!” He tried again. That was louder but Micah stayed asleep. Alexi had left the bathroom door open so he could see his boyfriend from where he lay. There was some tossing and turning from in the bed, but the snoring carried on. 

Standing was not an option. Alexi didn’t think he’d ever be able to straighten his back again. He had to protect his stomach that had been churning and aching since he’d been rudely awoken by it. So, yelling it was. “Micah! Micah please, hear me.” 

Finally, Micah’s groggy voice came through. “Baby?” It took a while for Micah to untangle himself from the blankets, orientate himself, and raise his head enough to see that he was alone in the bed. “Lexi?” Micah looked around and eventually noticed his boyfriend lying in the bathroom. He jumped up quicker than Alexi thought possible. 

“Oh no, honey,” Micah rasped out as he got to his knees next to his boyfriend. He brushed the sweaty hair from Alexi’s face and clicked his tongue worriedly against the roof of his mouth. “You’re not doing so well, are you?” 

Alexi shook his head. “I can’t stop throwing up.” He wanted to cry. “Blair said I’d feel better in the morning.” 

“She lied to you so there’d be one less person to beat.” Micah smirked when Alexi didn’t. “I’m kidding. I don’t think it’s altitude sickness.” Micah felt every inch of Alexi’s face. His forehead, his cheek, his chin, everything was flushed and alive with heat. “You’ve definitely got a fever. It’s probably a stomach bug, babe.” 

Micah hugged Alexi to his chest when the poor boy moaned miserably. They sat on the floor together until the early morning came and went. Alexi vomited on and off until the sun came up. He suffered in pain while the rest of the resort started to wake up. The smell of pancakes and coffee taunted him. 

By 9 o’clock, Alexi still didn’t trust himself to stand. His stomach gurgled and churned relentlessly. Coincidentally. Micah’s stomach also started making noise. 

“You’re hungry. You need breakfast,” Alexi said. His lips were dry and cracked, and his voice was shot. 

“I could use some coffee.” Micah yawned. 

“I bet Dakota and Blair are wondering where we are.” 

“I’ll text them.” Before Micah could text their friends, a knock came at the door. The two of them looked at each other knowingly. Micah got to his feet. “Can I let them in?” 

“Yeah whatever.” 

As expected, Dakota and Blair were just as sympathetic and apologetic as Micah when he explained what was going on. 

“Shit, man. I’m sorry,” Dakota said as he sat on the unmade bed. Blair chose to pace worriedly. “At least you’ve got the coziest place to recover in.” 

Blair continued to walk back and forth in the middle of the conversation.

“I feel really bad,” Alexi said softly. “I never wanted to stress anybody out. I’ll be fine.” Even as he said this, Alexi felt a shooting pain in his belly. He tried to keep his expression neutral as sweat appeared on his forehead. Only Blair seemed to notice the change. 

“Don’t be,” Dakota said. “These things happen, and we just want you to feel better.” Dakota couldn’t stop himself from being distracted from his girlfriend who paced the room. He threw his hands up. “Bee, would you stop pacing. It’s a stomach bug. He’ll be right as rain in less than twenty-four hours.” 

“I know. I know. It’s just—I don’t know, I’m worried. That’s all.” Blair plopped herself down on the bed next to Dakota. He took her hand and kissed it, claiming that it cured all anxieties. 

That’s when Micah spoke up for the first time in a while. He’d been chewing his thumbnail quietly in the corner. “Baby, I’m worried too. I don’t feel good about leaving you alone when you’ve got a fever.” 

Alexi had insisted earlier than the three of them enjoy the day while he stayed in the room. He didn’t want his friends to miss out on skiing just because he had a stomach-ache—the worst stomach-ache he ever had, but he didn’t tell them that. Micah had taken his temperature properly with a thermometer and it had only been mild. That had settled it for Alexi. He would rest and his friends would still get to have fun. 

“Micah please, you have to go. I’ll feel worse if I keep you in here with me.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, baby. I’m fine.” 

“And we’ll only be gone for a few hours,” Dakota added. “We’ll come up and check on you before lunch.” 

“That sounds perfect.” Alexi really hoped he’d be able to fall asleep within that time. As much as he wanted his boyfriend to have fun, he wasn’t looking forward to suffering with this pain while alone and conscious. He decided to take more medication that would knock him out and hopefully he’d be right as rain, as Dakota said, when he woke up.

It was six in the evening when Alexi woke up properly. He vaguely remembered seeing his boyfriend around noon when the gang came back in for lunch. He’d been too out of it to say anything. All he knew was that Micah rubbed his back when he had to vomit around the thermometer in his mouth. It took a few tries, but eventually Micah got a good reading. It was still a mild fever. 

The pain in his side stayed at a constant 7. It was bad enough that Alexi saw black spots in his vision, but not bad enough that he suspected anything worse than a stomach bug. This particular bug must have found a cozy spot in the corner of his digestive tract. It felt like it was snuggled away in a small nook, causing destruction and mayhem in his belly without moving from his side.

This time, Alexi was awake enough to talk with his boyfriend. He relished the cold kiss that Micah left on his forehead. His boyfriend’s face was still pink and raw from the snowburn. The goggles that protected him from the wind had left marks around his eyes. The slopes had left a smile on his lips, but the worrisome state of his partner was melting that grin off. 

“Are you still throwing up?” Micah asked as he took the toque off his head. His hair was a mop of tangles and sweat. He scratched his scalp and was beginning to feel the exhaustion from the exciting day. 

Alexi nodded sadly, “It’s mostly dry heaves now.” 

“How long ago?” 

“Two hours maybe.” 

Micah rubbed his thumb over his boyfriend’s warm face. They were polar opposites in that moment; one with frostbite biting at his cheeks and the other with a fever burning through his skin. “Come downstairs for tea with us. I think it’ll be good for you to stand up.” 

Alexi wasn’t so sure, but he wanted to spend more time with Micah and his friends. He hadn’t thrown up in a while, so perhaps he could try a stroll through the lodge. His stomach hurt a little less anyway. 

He got on his knees which was the easy part. Next, the dreaded moment. He needed to uncurl his back and stretch his torso until he stood up straight. As he righted himself with Micah’s help, the pain flooded once again through his belly. Like electricity, the sparks of pain shot through every neural pathway. 

He let out a sharp gasp between his clenched teeth. “Ghah! Micah, stop, stop!” He hunched back over. 

“I’m sorry, sorry!” Micah hovered his hands over Alexi’s body, afraid to cause any more pain. “We’ll go slow. Take your time.” 

Sweat had broken out across Alexi’s skin. It prickled his forehead and nose. His teeth were ready to shatter into a million pieces with the amount of force he was biting down with. Alexi whimpered and remained bent over like a disciple in a worshipful bow. He must have been praying for the pain to leave his body and soul. 

His soul was fucking tired of this shit. 

Alexi did not move. He couldn’t. The new wave pain had caused his stomach to churn again. A searing heave tore up his throat as bile and saliva dripped from his open mouth. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, letting tears fall onto the floor with the sick. 

That is when Alexi began to cry. It hurt so damn much. In that moment, he was sure something was stabbing him. Maybe a bone had snapped off his rib and was piercing his side. Maybe he swallowed a knife, and it was carving its way through his intestines. Whatever it was, he needed it out of his body. 

“Micah, help me. I’m scared,” Alexi mumbled as he fell into a fetal position. “It hurts. Take it out.” 

“Oh, my baby, I’m right here.” Micah wanted to cry as well. He ran his hands over Alexi’s body. He was burning up. Sweat soaked every inch of his clothes and hair. 

“Get it out!” Alexi hissed. 

“Get what out?” Micah checked to make sure there was nothing actually stabbing his boyfriend. There was nothing that he could see. He was pretty sure that Alexi was going delirious from the fever. “Baby, there’s nothing.”

“Just help me.” 

Micah hadn’t realized that tears streaked down his own cheeks. He wished Dakota and Blair were here to call 911. So, he started to bang on the bathroom wall. He used his fist and called out their names, hoping his friends could hear the noise from across the hall. 

It didn’t take long before Dakota and Blair burst into the room. They wore identical looks of shock and worry. Blair nearly slammed into Dakota as she ran up behind him. 

“What is going on?” Dakota asked. He took one look at Alexi and knew that this was bad. All three of them knelt on the floor next to Alexi who was barely responsive. 

“He’s really sick.” Micah said, his voice shaking. “Call an ambulance.” 

Dakota raised his eyebrows. “Micah, we’re on a mountain. How are—”

“Just do it, Kota!” 

Dakota jumped back with wide eyes and took his phone out of his pocket as fast as he could. “Okay buddy, I’m doing it. I’m calling.” It was Dakota’s turn to pace around the hotel room, waiting for an operator. 

In all the chaos, Blair knew her role. She hugged Micah to her side and remained calm. Her voice was steady and reassuring. “It’s going to be okay. Forget what Dakota said.” She left breathable pauses between her sentences. “They’ll send an air ambulance.” 

Micah didn’t take his eyes off Alexi, even as he nodded. “He asked me to get something out of his body.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“I don’t know. He just grabbed his side in pain, vomited, and then said something was stabbing him.” 

Blair looked to where Alexi was whimpering on the floor with his hands pressed into his right side. She began to understand. It wasn’t motion sickness, altitude sickness, or the stomach flu. 

“This happened to Dakota and me. I’ll bet anything it’s his appendix.” Blair licked her lips in deep thought. “We didn’t get it this bad, but…he’ll be fine.” She hesitated on that last part, knowing this had gone further than what she or Dakota had experienced. The full truth was that she didn’t know if Alexi would be fine, not if his appendix had ruptured like she suspected, but she wasn’t about to tell Micah that. 

They could hear Dakota talking on the phone with the dispatcher. He sounded stressed as he tried to explain that they were at a ski lodge. Micah forced himself to tune out that conversation; it was too panic inducing. He decided that what he needed was to keep holding onto Blair. Her arms were strong and still, wrapped around his shoulder. He stayed in her embrace until things got better. 

And things did get better. 

The lodge staff came to help. They moved Alexi to a place where the air ambulance crew could get to him better. Micah was numb as he got into the helicopter. He had never been on a helicopter before and was unlikely to remember this ride. 

Blair became a guardian angel for both Micah and Dakota. Dakota didn’t like planes to begin with, so his face was chalk white as he got into the helicopter. She sat in the middle of the two boys and reassured them that everything was okay. 

As Blair predicted, the ski lodge incident would turn into a scary and exciting story that they told Madix and Riley, because everything did turn out okay. 

It was truly scary for a moment there, because Alexi’s appendix had indeed ruptured. Poison had been rushing through his body and would have killed him if they delayed calling an ambulance any longer. Micah nearly vomited on the doctor when he heard that news. 

Alexi slept peacefully in the hospital while Micah, Dakota, and Blair loomed around his bed. They whispered but there was no need as the boy was passed out good. 

“So,” Dakota started, looking around at their group. “Three down, one to go.” 

Blair smacked him on the arm. “Why would you say that!” She turned to Micah. “Only like 7 percent of people get appendicitis.” 

“Then I think we’re cursed,” Dakota added. “It’s like someone wants to make us suffer.” 

“That’s ridiculous.” Blair laughed, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that the odds were not in their favour. Maybe Dakota was right. 

Micah swallowed hard. “Can I get a voluntary appendectomy?” 

[abravesoul03]

Loving her was a sin, finding you was a blessing.

TEAM BEBE TATTER X FEM READER (ft.Minji of Dreamcatcher)

Warning: (Obsessive psycho Minji!) (Mention of gun) (mention of murder?) (Breaking up with Minji) (Minji is an alcoholic)

A/N: I made Jiu into a villian in this, but please note that anything said or written in this story is all pure fiction. Enjoy luvs ♥️.

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"I need her, I need her Siyeon-ah!! Without her I can't live in peace she's supposed to be mine only!!"

FLASHBACK

It has been exactly 7 months since You and Minji broke up. It was her choice, she's the one who wanted part ways. She didn't give you a reason on why, you truly loved her to do so but if that's what she wanted then that's what she gets.

After the break up, Minji felt like she was happy. She went out to more parties, getting wasted with her friends hooking up with some. You on the other hand, you were always in your room. Crying just thinking about her. It was hard to forget about her.

In 3 months time, everything changed. For the both of you. This time Minji was in her worse, she lost her job, her rent was due until she got an eviction notice. She was wasting her last dollars on liquor and stuff.

As in for you, your life completely changed when you met her. Kim Taeyoung. She was everything, She was so caring and loving towards you. A few things about her did heavily reminded you of Minji but you decided to push them aside and focus on her only. After 1 month or so Taeyoung confessed you making you guys official.

You slowly started to forget about 'her' and moved on from the past.

PRESENT

Siyeon hugged Minji from the side trying to comfort her best friend.

"Unnie, I know, it's ok please calm down first. Maybe you can try to talk to her again? She'll understand?"

"There's no use in it. She already has a new girlfriend. Y/N looks really happy with her. It's all my fucking fault, I s-shouldn't have broken up with her." Tears streamed down Minji's cheeks.

"Are you sure that what you saw was real-"

Siyeon was cutted out by Minji with her showing a post on her phone. It was a picture of you and Taeyoung on one your recent dates at a hill top cafe. Taeyoung's hand around your shoulder, her lips on your cheek. With the captions under the post 'y/n-nie my lovely girl❤️💞'.

"This proofs it all Siyeon-ah!!"

The younger didn't know how else she was gonna comfort her best friend.

YOUR PLACE

It's was about 7:30 pm. Dinner almost ready, and Taeyoung is on her way back from work too. You had a long day at work but still cooking for her made you feel so relaxed and knowing you'll get to see her cute little satisfied smile after tasting whatever you've made just made it 10 times alot better.

You poured in the chopped carrots and onions sauteing them in the pan, followed by the rest of the ingredients. I guess you were too immersed in cooking as you didn't notice the sound of the passcode keypad and the front door opening.

Tatter was finally back from the studio. Her nose was hit with the delicious aroma once she stepped in. She took off her shoes and placed her dance bag with some sweaty clothes that she used for practice and placed them in the laundry room.

Her feet took her to the direction of the smell. Taeyoung leaned her body along the door frame, her arms crossed over her chest, her velvet brown eyes grazing over your figure.

Admiring the way your hands moved skillfully. 'How did she get so lucky?' was the question that float around her head.

Taeyoung knew about your ex Minji. She knew how things happened. She promised you and herself that she'll protect and love you till the end.

"hmm~" without herself realising she let out a hum catching your attention.

"Tata!! Your back!" You turned off the stove and ran to her, welcoming her back with a big hug.

10:39m AT SIYEON'S HOUSE

The house was dark, Siyeon is probably asleep in her room. Minji on the other hand, was in the guest room given for her stay.

She sat on the floor her back leaned against the bed. A bottle of liquor in hand, and her phone on the other with your latest Instagram post on it. She was drunk.

"Y/N you were supposed to be mine. When I asked for a break up you should a stopped me and begged me to not leave you."

"But you didn't? I'll fucking get you back. If I can't have you then neither could she or anyone else."

She got up from her position, wobbly she stood up accidently dropping the bottle as it shattered.

"Fuck that!!" She got her bag and fished out a gun.

Tears welled her eyes. She looked at her phone again.

"I'm sorry y/n-ah, you should be h-happy. I shouldn't do this- but you broke my heart. You were supposed to be mine only!! AHH!"

Minji flung her phone across the room, it hit the wall crashing hard.

"You'll be mine Forever?"

-THE END-

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A/N: should I continue?

[miradelletarot]

Part Two: It Feels Like Home - The Weave and the Vines

TAGS: Tooth-rotting fluff, Feelings realization, cooking, surprises, homesickness Summary:A serendipitous opportunity presents itself to Sagora, giving her an idea to surprise Gale. His reaction is nothing short of unexpected.

Words: 1,372 | Link: AO3 -----------------------------

You have no clue how they got it, but you were buying it.

He’s going to love this. Sagora thought.  Somehow, this tiny fishing village on the banks of the Chionthar had Waterdhavian Whitefish. So far from Baldur’s Gate and the trade routes, yet they managed to get a decently sized catch imported. They were indeed fresh. Her connection to nature, and the uncanny ability to survive, offered her a keen nose and eye for quality. One can’t simply consume everything in the wild and not worry about safety. She exchanged her coin for the entire tray, and an assortment of other herbs, spices, and vegetation. She could hardly contain her excitement. It was to be a surprise after all.

Back at camp, Gale was already stoking the fire to begin making their evening meal.  Sagora ran over with her hands overloaded with her haul. “Gale!” She huffed as she nearly dropped one of her bags.

“Whoa there!” He chuckled at how adorably clumsy she was as he braced his hands on the bag to keep it from tumbling over. “What’s all this??” “I want to cook tonight. I found some wonderful ingredients, and…well, let’s just say I was inspired!” She flashed a silly grin hoping he wouldn’t question her further. “Ha! Well, I suppose if you’re that keen on tonight’s meal prep then by all means. I’d be delighted to offer my two very helping hands, however.” He smirked, offering his hands in an animated gesture.

“No!” Gale reeled back at Sagora’s sudden outburst. “Uhh, I meannn… no . No thank you. Truly appreciate it though! You should relax or…read a tome or…something?” She grinned again hoping to mask how awkward she felt. She hurriedly set her bags down, and began to gently push Gale away from the campfire, forcing him to walk towards his tent. He threw his hands up “OK! OK, I’m going! But do let me know if you require assistance.” She pushed him into his tent and unceremoniously dashed away. “Thank you! Have fun!” She shouted behind her as she took off back towards the fire. Once she was confident he was out of view, Sagora deftly prepared the ingredients for her surprise. One by one, everything was tossed into the cauldron. It would be nearly nightfall before it would be ready, but it was well worth the wait.

* * *

“OK, everyone! Who’s hungry?” Sagora portioned out the evening meal so everyone’s bowl was ready by the time they got around the campfire. The smell that wafted out of the cauldron when she lifted the lid roused Gale from the book he was enthralled in.

That couldn’t be…? No. The aroma was so familiar yet so distant. He practically rushed out of his tent to see what she prepared. She handed him a bowl. “Here you go. I hope you like it.” She smiled nervously, desperately wanting it to taste as delicious as it smelled. So far, the rest of the camp was digging in, and enjoying the hearty warmth on such a chilly evening. Gale simply… stared, gazing into his bowl in disbelief. “Is this…what I think it is?” He looked at her, eyes wide.

She hesitated. Was he upset? She couldn’t tell. “Oh, it’s uhh, Waterdhavian Whitefish Chowder.” She recoiled ever so slightly, unsure of how he would react. “You had been talking lately about how much you missed home. I found a Waterdhavian recipe book in that bookshop you took us to the other day. I couldn't pass up such an opportunity." He moved to sit on a log near the fire. He cradled the bowl, the warmth radiating through his hands. It was a very hearty chowder loaded with bits of fish, potatoes, leeks, onions, carrots, and a host of herbs and spices, served with a thick slice of toasted bread. “This looks…wonderful.” He took a bite. A torrent of emotions flooded his being. This was no ordinary camp meal they had to survive on. It was warmth. It was love. It was home. “Sagora…I – ” He couldn’t form the words. The lump in his throat betrayed the stoic exterior he tried to convey. He cleared his throat as he stood, retreating for his tent. “Thank you. It’s lovely.” “Well, that didn’t seem like the reaction we were all expecting.” Shadowheart practically read Sagora’s thoughts. “Just sit down and eat, Druid. He probably doesn’t want us to see how undignified he would be while he scarfs down his dinner.” Astarion chuckled, clearly amused with his own version of events. Sagora took her own bowl, and did her best to enjoy her creation with her campmates. It didn’t stop her from peeking at his tent now and then in hopes he would emerge.

* * *

Sagora tossed the dinner scraps to Scratch and Pudge after she finished eating, and made her way to Gale’s tent. He hadn’t emerged since he walked off with dinner in hand. When she stepped closer to his tent, she felt the familiar sensation of magic in the air. Another step forward, and suddenly the sounds of the camp around her vanished only to be replaced by Gale sobbing uncontrollably.

“Gale?” Her gentle call to him was barely above a whisper. He looked up at her with puffy, bloodshot eyes. Her heart shattered. She knelt beside him and noticed his food was mostly untouched. “You know if it was that bad you could have just told me.” Her attempt at humor thankfully didn’t go unnoticed. He huffed a small, tearful laugh, and did his best to destroy the evidence of his despair. “I’m sorry…” the strain on his voice made it nearly impossible to hear him. “I just…I can’t believe you did that. For me .” “You deserve it.” Gale’s scoff suggested he felt otherwise. “Really though.  You have been through so much, and away from your home for so long. It just seemed like the right thing to do.” Sagora sheepishly smiled.

“It’s endearing how you feel I am deserving of so much of your kindness. It should be me doing this for you. Especially after I consumed that necklace the other day…I know how much you wanted it.” Embarrassment crept along his features. “We’re just…never going to talk about that anymore. OK?” Her tone, only partially serious. An uncomfortable silence fell before them. Gale shifted as he collected his bowl, and gathered the courage to speak once more. “This is more incredible than I think you realize.” He swirled the spoon aimlessly through the chowder. “My mother used to make this for me. Often.” His gentle brown eyes met Sagora’s brilliant green eyes. “It’s just like hers. Every herb, every spice. The texture? It’s all perfect .” He sighed, attempting to calm another wave of sorrow welling up inside him. “For the first time in years…I felt… home .” Sagora shifted closer to him and timidly placed a comforting hand on his back as he rode another wave of tears. “I felt like a young boy again. Whether it was raining, or cold, or if I was ill…hells, even if I was just having a bad day, Mother was there…with this.” He lifted the bowl slightly and smiled, but the smile faded almost instantly. “I don’t deserve this. I’m just a silly wizard who made countless errors, and is desperately trying to recover from his bloated ego and vast amounts of hubris.”

“You’re far more than that. Underneath the hubris is a kind man just trying to do his best with the circumstances he’s been given. Even if it takes a bowl of soup to help remind you of what’s truly valuable then so be it.” Sagora smiled warmly, and Gale was happy to reciprocate.  “You had better eat it though. It’s getting cold.”  She teased with mock scolding, nudging her shoulder into his. Gale looked down, and with a gentle wave of his hand, he warmed the bowl’s contents.

“There. Good as new.” He smiled at her once more, completely captivated by her beauty and kindness. He was falling for her, though couldn’t ever reveal his true feelings, not when he wasn’t even sure of his own fate. Life can be so cruel.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

[discount-elysium]

Pale Static Exchange Gift

Happy Pale Static Exchange @nonsal! I wrote a fic for your requests. You can read it on ao3 here, or under the cut below, whichever you prefer! I hope you had a lovely holiday season, and that you enjoy your present!

FIC: (You are) the life I needed all along

PAIRING: Harry/Kim, Harry & Kim

Summary: Harry invites Kim to a nice dinner, and it does not, in fact, go spectacularly wrong.

YOUR APARTMENT’S SHOEBOX OF A KITCHEN - The room is warm, the dough under your hands is pleasantly sticky and forming well, the radio is softly playing, and you’re in the middle of making dinner for your favorite person.  Life, for the moment, is good.

SHIVERS [Medium: Success] - Outside of your window, the grey expanse of cloud hangs low and dismal over the rain-dampened street.  Few people brave this temporary lull in the downpour: a man rushing to meet his sister, a woman coming home early from work, two sticky-faced children sharing an adventure.

Revachol no more sleeps than her people do–but perhaps even she’s afforded a moment’s repose, in all this rain.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - And you, Harrier Du Bois, have a stew pot full of broth, several pounds of farmer’s-market-Lynne’s best chuck, onions, carrots, potatoes, and a fuckload of herbs cooking on the stove.  From the smell of this kitchen right now, you might as well be the best cook that ever lived.

YOU -

Fuck yeah I am!  I’m a superstar chef.  Gorący Kubek eat your heart out.

Admittedly I did once light my kitchen a little bit on fire.  But it was a very little bit!  Barely worth bringing up any more, really.

…I do okay.

YOU - For a moment, you put a little more force into kneading your bread dough than is probably strictly necessary.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Aw, who cares about the kitchen fire?  That was two months ago.  Might as well have happened to a different person.

HALF-LIGHT - There’s still scorch marks on the counter.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - And?  Nothing here’s unblemished, including Harry, but that’s not the point.  Can’t you feel the saliva pooling under your tongue, Harry?  Can’t you smell the air?

PERCEPTION (Smell) [Easy: Success] - It does smell very nice.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Thank you.

YOU - Of the various pastimes you tried your hand at post-Martinaise–and there were many–

ENCYCLOPEDIA - Knitting, journaling, bird-watching, cooking, drawing, wood-working, knitting again–

YOU - Cooking is the only one that seems to have really stuck.  It does you good, having something to keep your hands busy that produces tangible results.  It doesn’t hurt that recently, those results have been delicious.

And today, you’re finally going to do the thing you’ve wanted to do for months!

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Failure] - Sleep with Kim!

VOLITION - Khm.  Ah.  The other thing Harry’s wanted for months, Feel-good.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - No one appreciates genius in its time. :(

VOLITION - …

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] - …fine.  Feed Kim your food.

YOU - Homemade bread and stew may not be the fanciest fare, but they’re still good, and you’re confident that you can make them well.  Kim’s going to come over to dinner and eat something you’ve made him, and he’s going to enjoy himself.

LOGIC - This is going to go over better than the scarf did.

YOU - You pause, momentarily, in your kneading. 

EMPATHY - Hey, he said he liked the scarf!  

RHETORIC [Easy: Success] - No, he said it was ‘thoughtful.’

EMPATHY - Which is a way to say you like something!

LOGIC - If he liked it so much, why doesn’t he ever wear it?

PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] - It was a little…lumpy.

INLAND EMPIRE - Warm, soft white wool, cloud-like under your fingers.  You were in the craft store for a case and touched it in passing–you left without it.  That night you thought of aerostatic pilots with long white scarves to ward off the chill of interinsulary travel; you thought of Kim, blowing warm air over his cold fingers in alleyways and turning up the collar of his coat.  You went back to that little store a day later.

HAND EYE COORDINATION - I did my best!  Speaking of which–

YOU - Idly, your hands move.  The warm dough stretches, elastic under your hands.  You’ve oiled a bowl already; you put your dough into it for its first rise and cover it.

CONCEPTUALIZATION - Like the pupa in its chrysalis: warm, enclosed, waiting for change.

YOU - With your stew cooking and your bread rising, there’s not much else you need to do in the kitchen.  You putter out to your living room with the intention of tidying up, but it’s…honestly not that bad?

COMPOSURE - Khm.  Yeah.  That would be from the compulsive nervous cleaning you already did a few hours ago.  I can only hold this ship together so much, and luckily this time, the nervous energy was constructive!

LOGIC - Kim’s been to your apartment before, Harry.  He’s seen it worse than this.

YOU - The only other thing you were planning to do was pick out a post-meal board game.  You don’t have very many board games–they’re expensive–but you’ve started a little collection since Martinaise, and you’re hoping Kim will want to play one tonight.  You think you’ve narrowed it down to two options, Beyond the Pale–

ENCYCLOPEDIA - A two to four player semi-cooperative game about aerostatic pilots lost in the Pale, desperately trying to repair their aerostatic while fending off possibly-hallucinatory creatures from the Pale–but the pilots may have hidden motives…

YOU - And Tailor Made.

ENCYCLOPEDIA - A shorter, but very charming two to four player game about sewing custom blankets to attract various cats to sleep on them.

YOU - But maybe only giving Kim two options is too restrictive?  Maybe you should just pull your whole collection out and let him pick?

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] - Harry.  Try taking a deep breath.

YOU - You take a deep breath.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - You can breathe deeper than that!  Put your diaphragm into it!

YOU - You take a second, deeper, manlier breath.  Then you take another, because real athletes always give 110%.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Your hands stop shaking.

YOU - Oh.  

EMPATHY - Yes, oh.  

YOU - I was panicking, wasn’t I?

EMPATHY - Mmhm.  Want to make a guess about why, Harry?

YOU -

What is this, introspection?  Self-awareness?  I don’t like it.  Real men keep their mysterious emotions bottled up inside their chiseled and rugged chests until they, for unrelated reasons, abruptly die of bleeding ulcers or heart attacks.  (Opt out)

I can do this.  I can have a whole entire thought about my emotional state and I probably won’t even cry about it.  (Opt in).  

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] - In the halls of Precinct 41, Satellite Officer Jean Vicquemare is abruptly struck by the irrational feeling that he owes Patrol Officer Judit Minot 5 reál.  He shakes his head, and the baffling certainty passes.

YOU - In preparation for this terrifying new endeavor, you take a quick lap of your living room.  Then you close your eyes very tightly–

LOGIC - Is that really a necessary step?

EMPATHY - Shush.

YOU - And you confront the question.  Why are you worrying?

YOU - 

Because you want tonight to go well.

Because since minute one of your haphazard reentry into this world, it’s been a little bit about Kim, hasn’t it?  Not all about Kim–he would hate the thought of that–but a little.  His Kineema called you back to life.  When everything in the world was terrifying and nonsensical, he was a steady point against which you could orient yourself.  You rebuilt yourself painstakingly, and he didn’t help, exactly, but he gave you grace.  He was gentle with you when you stumbled.

And in the months since Martinaise, he’s continued to be your friend.  He’s not perfect, and neither are you.  There have been arguments, and doubts, and low points.  But when you need him to have your back, he has.  Every time.

And it’s not that you want to repay him, exactly, because you don’t owe him.  But tonight, you want him to feel warm, and well fed, and appreciated.  You want him to feel good with you.  Because of you.  

….because you love him.

YOU - You get the oddest feeling that there was a more honest choice you could have made–a thought there you turned back from fully confronting.  But that’s a silly thing to think about!  Haha.  Ha.  Phew.  Emotions sure are hard.  Good thing you won’t be looking directly at yours again any time soon.  

EMPATHY - …Harrier.

YOU - Anyway, that was a productive realization: you really want tonight to go well!  And you definitely know exactly what you can do to make that happen, and to not have to think any more deeply about this whole thing: make dessert!!

EMPATHY - …I give up.  I don’t get paid enough to manage this mess.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Amen, brother.

…

YOUR APARTMENT - By the time Kim knocks on your door that evening, you’ve got the stew ready in the nicest bowl you own, homemade bread waiting on a cutting board beside it, and a berry crumble ready to pop in the oven once dinner gets started.  Your slightly-lopsided kitchen table is as neatly set as your mismatched silverware allows for.  Your apartment is clean.  Your boardgame choices are set out.  You’re all set to woo–khm.  What an odd slip.  You’re ready to impress the hell out of Kim.

KIM KITSURAGI - Kim knocks on your door at 19:30 on the dot, precisely on time.  When you open the door–

REACTION SPEED [Easy: Success] - HE IS WEARING THE SCARF.

KIM KITSURAGI - With his collar turned up, and the scarf tucked in around his neck, the lumpiness of it is less noticeable than it was in your memory.  He looks warm, and comfortable.  For no particular reason, your breath catches in your chest.

YOU - “You look nice!”

KIM KITSURAGI - Taken slightly aback, Kim blinks.

SUGGESTION [Medium: Failure] - Uh, shit.  Uh–try saying more?  That’ll fix this.

YOU - “In my scarf, I mean.  Or–your scarf.  Because I gave it to you, so it’s–it’s your scarf.”

PERCEPTION [Medium: Success] - Kim’s smiling, now.  It’s small, but it’s there.

YOU - “I should probably invite you inside.”

KIM KITSURAGI - “Yes, detective.  Unless you’re planning to serve dinner on your doorstep.”

YOU - You lead Kim inside, and offer to take his coat.  Kim shrugs out of his coat and scarf and watches with a faint air of confusion as you hang them up on coat hooks for him–something he could very easily do himself.  Out of the bright orange jacket which you sometimes privately think of as his armor, Kim always looks a little softer and smaller.  It’s a good look.

KIM KITSURAGI - When you pull out a chair at your kitchen table for him, Kim goes still, briefly.  His dark eyes search your face for something, and you’re not sure exactly what he sees.  “Detective,” he says.

RHETORIC - He sounds almost wary.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Failure] - Unable to bear the weight of his gaze, you wave vaguely towards his seat at the table.  “Go ahead.  Sit down, get started.  I’ll just–uh.  Pop in the crumble.”

YOU - If you take longer than you need to, strictly speaking, to find your oven mitts, open your oven, and set the dessert in–if you wait until you’re sure you’ve heard Kim’s weight settle into his chair, and the click of serving utensils–well.  Hopefully the other detective in the room isn’t going to call you on it!

KIM KITSURAGI - By the time you join him at the table, Kim has in fact started eating–he, like many other people who grew up in the years following the Antecentennial Revolution, doesn’t tend to leave food sitting long before tucking in.

INLAND EMPIRE - Memories of hungrier days linger long after they’re gone.  You’d know, Harry.

KIM KITSURAGI - He passes the cutting board towards you, an evenly-cut slice waiting for you there.  “It’s all very good.  Thank you.”

COMPOSURE [Challenging: Success] - The sting in your eyes comes as a surprise, but you blink, hard, and manage to push it back before you do something horribly embarrassing like cry over Kim complimenting your food.

KIM KITSURAGI - Kim settles a hand on your elbow, gently.

REACTION SPEED - Not fast enough for Kim not to notice, though.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] - Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi is an excellent detective.  From the moment you opened your door, he’s been gathering evidence: your uncommonly clean living room, the way you took his coat, the way you pulled out a chair for him.  Nothing you do goes unnoticed.  He’s coming close to a conclusion, now.  

EMPATHY - Are you actually willing to hear it?

YOU -

Distract him.  Open your mouth, say something outrageous, and draw his attention away.

[Volition: Challenging] - Look at Kim, and wait for what he has to say.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] - You steel yourself.  It’s difficult to meet Kim’s eyes–those eyes that, for all their far-sightedness, see so much–but you bring yourself to do it.  You wait.

KIM KITSURAGI - “Detective.”  He pauses a moment, then, “Harry.  You know you don’t need to impress me.”

YOU - “Can’t I want to?” Suddenly the words are bubbling up at your lips, urgent.  “Don’t you deserve to be impressed, Kim?”

RHETORIC - You know that sounds like–

EMPATHY - Shut.  Up.

YOU - “I just want you to stay.  For good food, and for berry crumble, and for–to trounce me at board games, after.  I want you to have a good time with me.  Is that too much?”

PERCEPTION [Challenging: Success] - Kim lets out a very controlled breath.  He’s looking at you very steadily.

KIM KITSURAGI - “No, Harry.  That’s not too much.”  His hand tightens for a moment on your elbow, and then he lets go.  He takes the bowl from in front of you, and ladles stew into it, setting it back in front of you full.  “Eat, before it gets cold, hmm?”

YOU - The rational thing to do would be to do as Kim says, but instead you say, like a child in need of reassurance, “So you’re staying?”

KIM KITSURAGI - There’s something in the way he’s looking at you, now, that you cannot fully parse.  “Yes, I’ll stay.”  He looks away with a smile–an almost private little curve of his lips.  “We have plenty of time.”

[gurgling-guts]

Flatulence in Formal

written for the request in my previous post

content warning: food indulgence, descriptions of stomach noises and flatulence, humiliation

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

A and B were invited to a formal dinner party with A's boss and coworkers, at their boss's house. They were quite excited, as A's boss had a wonderful property, the house with two stories and a basement, and a gorgeous botanical garden past the gazebo. Not to mention, it was her birthday, so she'd be going all out.

B pondered aloud as they finished preparing themselves for the evening,

"I wonder what's planned this time around. Last time she threw a dinner party like this we both came home stuffed to the brim."

"God, I don't know, but we won't need to eat much before we go, or after."

As the pair arrived mid afternoon, they were greeted by a few of A's friends and coworkers, and their boss, guiding them to the dining room.

A's boss bragged, "I do hope you all haven't eaten much yet today, I've quite a filling feast for us tonight."

"I'm sure, you always go all out and feed us well when celebrating like this."

They made their way to the dining room where there was a long table set to seat twenty. The display was gorgeous, bouquets of the flowers in their boss's garden, candle light, and a great spread of vegetables, pita bread, and chips with blue cheese, creamy garlic hummus, and salsa for dipping.

A and B took their seats next to each other and near their dearest friends, and began chatting, digging into the hummus, and wrapping up veggies in their pita for a delicious bite. They wondered if their boss had grown the broccoli, carrots, cucumbers, and other vegetables in her garden, as they were fresh and flavorful, picked at just the right time.

As they talked, one of A's friends complimented their slim midi dress, adorned with gorgeous patterns and lace along the slit.

"I love the way the silk makes it shine in the sunlight. It hugs your figure splendidly."

They smiled, "Why, thank you. Perhaps we should go out and have you fitted for one in your favorite color, I think you would look just lovely."

After a short while of snacking and beginning to drink, the main course would be served. The meal was blackened salmon with a side of toasted brown rice with mushrooms and thyme, and a hearty three bean salad. It smelled amazing, and they couldn't wait to try a bite of salmon with the salad. As the boss's house staff set the plates in front of each guest, A inhaled deeply, mouth watering at the scent of the mushrooms and different seasonings.

They were quick to bite into the salmon, scooping some of the rice with it. It was perfect, tender and falling apart in their mouth. It had a slight kick, but wasn't too spicy. And the mushrooms with the rice… it was a buttery and earthy heaven on their tongue. They swallowed it down with a bit of their wine, going in to try the salad. It was savory and zesty, and somewhat crunchy, with red onions, celery, and a wonderful vinegar dressing.

As they got near the halfway point of their meal, they felt their stomach rumble a bit. Thankfully, it wasn't audible, but they began to feel some discomfort. They applied a bit of pressure to their tummy, noticing a slight tightness around their belly button. For a while, their discomfort was eased as the bubbles moved along their digestive tract. Caring not, they ate more, relishing in the flavor of the salmon and salad.

As they got closer to clearing their plate, their tummy bubbled more, and pressure was building. They were feeling even more uncomfortable around their middle, and their digestion refused to be quiet any longer. A long, bubbly gurgle sounded out from A's tummy. Their coworker next to them, who happened to be a bit tipsy, heard, and decided to tease, "Somebody's got the bubble guts. Eat too many beans?"

A's face flushed, and they put their hand to their tummy, feeling how it had rounded out. It continued bubbling and building up more pressure, stretching the fabric of their dress… Their friend was quite right about the state of their tummy, and they were humiliated to have it pointed out.

"Please excuse me for those noises. I m-must've swallowed quite a bit of air.."

"Sure, that's why it's rumbling. You better be careful, I heard the boss is serving blueberry cheesecake for dessert."

A pushed away their plate, and rubbed their tummy as inconspicuously as they could, making sure to clench their bum to avoid letting anything out. They dreaded the next course and the havoc it would wreak in their gut. They looked toward their partner for comfort, not sure if they should try to stand to go relieve some pressure.

B had overheard, realizing A's situation quickly, and gave them a look of concern. They reached over to A, rubbing their side, and feeling their bloat. They felt sympathy for them, knowing they weren't only uncomfortable, but surely embarrassed from their coworker's teasing. Between the broccoli, garlic hummus, beans, and onions, they were already guaranteed a wicked bellyache, but with dairy added? Even B's gut was a bit rumbly. It was a recipe for some very potent gas, at the least.

A's belly rumbled again, and they winced, the pressure now causing cramps. They clenched tight, and waited for the discomfort to subside before standing. If they didn't go somewhere private soon, they'd be letting loose in front of everyone.

"Excuse me love, I'm going to go.. uhm..freshen up a bit before we have dessert."

"Alright my dear, are you feeling okay?"

Their tummy growled again as they spoke, "Y-yes, I just need some fresh air and a minute of privacy. I'll be back shortly."

B frowned, worried for their partner. They watched as A headed off, a hand low on their gut that now was as round as it could manage. Their dress was most certainly hugging their figure now.

Once A knew they were somewhere they wouldn't be heard, they found a seat, and relaxed their tightened muscles, unclenching their bum. A long string of loud farts rumbled out of them. The gas felt hot on its way out, reeking of all the veggies and beans they'd eaten earlier. They blushed even though they were alone, ashamed of how unruly their gut was… It was their own fault for having so much of the things they knew made them gassy. A groaned, their tummy still bubbling and cramping. They pushed, but couldn't get any more of their gas out.

Worrying about A, B decided to leave the table as well to find them. It didn't take long, as when they turned a corner in the hall, they heard A's groans of discomfort. As they walked further, a faint smell of rotten vegetables and sulfur hit B, and they found A. They looked up at B as they walked in, confused, "What are you doing here, love?"

"I was worried about you.. I know your tummy has been giving you quite a bit of trouble, and I wanted to help."

A blushed, looking to the floor, "You aren't wrong about that… but I'm alright, you don't need to do anything."

B sat with A, putting their hand on B's tummy, feeling all the bubbles rolling through them,

"I know. I want you to feel better, though. May I?"

A sighed, knowing they did need help, and relief. They nodded, "Please…"

Having A's permission, B began to massage their abdomen slowly and gently with pressure. They began at the lower right of their tummy, working their way up their right side, across, and down their left side, several times. A particularly bassy rumble began, ending in the lower left side of A's tummy.

"Oh lord.. I'm so sorry for my tummy's noises, B… I know it's unpleasant."

"You're alright, love. Your tummy is just bubbly, it happens to everyone. Here, feel mine."

A reached out curiously, pressing their fingertips to B's lower belly. Sure enough, they felt the bubbles, and realized B would be gassy as well.

B applied more pressure, working A's trapped gas, and the deep bubbles had let them know it was almost out. Their fingers reached a hard spot, and they pressed just slightly harder, causing a series of growls, and an airy, rumbling fart to erupt from A's rump. They felt some physical relief, but they were a blushing mess. They felt repulsed by their bodily functions.

"Please excuse me again…"

"Of course, love. Does your tummy feel any better?"

"Yes, only a little bit, though."

"I'll keep rubbing your tummy until you feel relieved enough to return to the table, alright?"

"Alright. I can't thank you enough, love…"

They tooted again, flooding rank air out of their irritated bowels.

"Oh goodness, the smell. I'm so sorry my tummy is like this right now. I feel terrible…"

B pressed on their tummy again, forcing more gas out their bum.

"Ex-excuse me."

"I promise you're alright. I don't mind the noises, or even the smell. I want your tummy to feel better, especially before dessert."

A groaned, being reminded of the cheesecake they'd soon be eating, even though they most definitely shouldn't.

"Thank you for helping me… relieve myself. I'm worried though, I know the cheesecake is going to make my tummy even more bubbly than it was."

"Well… do you feel less bloated?"

"I suppose. It's not gurgling much anymore, and it isn't hard to the touch."

"I think it'll be alright, then."

"If you're sure. I think I'm ready to go back."

With that, A and B returned to the table holding hands, A's tummy slightly less distended. They both sat down again, their friends and coworkers on either side greeting them.

Just as before, A's coworker was teasing, inquiring about their tummy,

"How's the bubble guts? You still feeling rumbly in your tummy?"

A couldn't help the blush that showed on their cheeks, but they brushed it off,

"I'm feeling quite alright, but thank you for asking."

A few moments after they took their seats again, the cheesecake was served. It looked amazing with the blueberries and glaze drizzled all over each slice individually. The slices were generous in portion, same as the previous course. Though they knew it would cause them more intestinal distress, their mouth watered at the thought of the taste. They dug in with their fork, making sure to get a blueberry.

The cheesecake was decadent and creamy, the blueberry glaze having the perfect balance of tartness and sweetness, and the crust with a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg. It was amazing, and though they'd soon regret it, they felt it was worth the consequences, at least at that moment. As A got full after half their cheesecake, their tummy returned to a bubbling, gurgling mess. They passively rubbed their gut, knowing they'd need privacy again soon. Their belly was so full and gassy that it hurt.

A waited for the right time to excuse themselves again, not wanting much attention, especially from the likes of those next to them. To their utter dismay, as they shifted to stand, their tummy rumbled, and a loud fart bubbled out of them. It lasted long enough to break the tables' conversation and draw all attention to A. Their coworker who'd previously teased them for their bubbly tummy spat out their drink, unable to stifle their laughter.

They flushed red immediately, humiliation washing over them, tummy still bubbling loudly.

They stammered out their words, "P-pardon me, something is-" they farted again, this time punctuated by a wet sputter, "S-something is really disagreeing with me. I'm terribly sorry for my stomach's noises and my.. my, uhm, wind."

Their boss chuckled, along with a few giggling coworkers, some of which accidentally farted as well, causing another burst of laughter at the table.

"Don't worry about it, after all, we've all had a plate of beans and a cheesecake. If you need it though, or anyone else, the bathroom is down the left hall, or up the stairs."

They nodded, and excused themselves quickly, tooting on their way to the bathroom. They spent a while in there, waiting out their gas and their shame, hoping that by the time they left the restroom, it would be time to go home. They decided to sit on the toilet, just in case anything other than gas was brewing. This time, thankfully, their timing was good, and once they returned to the dining room, everyone was standing around chatting, while the staff cleared the table.

A beelined their way through goodbyes and friends joking about their eruption at the table, and they got a couple compliments for their gas. A couple coworkers said it was "impressive." This made them feel odd… but not in a bad way, strangely. Once they found B waiting, they squeezed their hand, ready to rush out to their car.

"Are you ready to head home, love?"

"Of course, dear. Is your stomach feeling alright?"

A shook their head. Their belly was still bubbling under their skin, still bloated and stretching their dress. B frowned, and rubbed their side gently.

"Let's head out and get home."

They both said their final goodbyes, and walked out to their car. B made sure to take extra care, and helped A into the passenger's side, gently pulling their seat belt over their lap. Lucky for A, and for B's nose, their house wasn't too far, just over a five minute drive.

Once they got home, A was holding their belly, trying their best not to let anything loose in their car. B saw that they were in pain, and carried them inside, taking them to their bedroom. After undressing themself, changing into light and comfortable silk pajamas, B helped A change as well. They slid the dress over A's head, and slid on a loose nightgown that matched B. Before getting into bed, they pulled a heating pad out of the night stand drawer and gave it to A, slipping into bed behind them.

"I love you, my dear. I'm so sorry about the interruptions my tummy caused tonight…"

"I love you, too, darling. I promise, it's nothing to dwell on. Even my belly is getting rumbly. Just relax and I'll rub your tummy until we fall asleep."

A squeezed B's hand gently, letting them rub their unhappy gut, and sighed. They relaxed under the combination of the heating pad's warmth and B's soothing touch, releasing a cacophony of bubbly farts, muffled by the blankets.

B patted their belly, and kissed the back of their head.

"I hope you have sweet dreams, love."

"I hope you do, too. You're my world."

As they relaxed more into B, they kept letting out long, wet farts. The disagreeable food they'd filled up on earlier was making their gut angrier still as it all moved through them. Another wet toot rumbled out into the room, but it hadn't been A this time. B grunted, putting a hand to their gut as they pushed out a rather gurgly fart.

"Ugh, excuse me. The beans are doing a number on me, too."

Hearing B like this, the same way they were vulnerable earlier… A turned over to face B, and kissed their cheek.

"You're quite alright, darling. How about I rub your belly?"

B smiled, kissing A sweetly.

"I would like that very much."

[cakeboxie]

@avocado-writing’s tav + Charlie enjoying some birthday soup bc it’s their birthday today and mine is in 5 days so!! Soup!! (My actual birthday soup recipe is under the cut)

Birthday soup

Don’t forget to get silly w it. That’s like, required. It’s your BIRTHDAY (or someone else’s birthday) you deserve to get silly.

I stole this from my mom btw, also make sure you know the difference between a herb and a spice.

Oh yeah also it includes soup dumplings.

Kitchen items:

Big pot w a lid

Cutting board

Knife

Ingredients:

2 tbls Butter

1pkg Stew beef (or chicken hearts, that’s the original ingredient I just don’t like em)

2 medium onions, one diced, one quartered (keep separate)

1 whole head of garlic, minced (jarlic works very well here)

3 cups of stock (beef if you use beef, veggie if you use chicken, do not use chicken stock it fucks up the taste)

3 medium carrots, chopped

2 medium potatos, chopped

1 celery stick, chopped

1/4 head of cabbage, chopped (optional, I just like cabbage an unreasonable amount)

1 whole package of frozen spinach, defrosted (do this in a bowl this shit is WET also keep the water)

Can of green beans (you could probably use fresh, I don’t like fresh tho so, idk)

Can of diced tomatoes

Rosemary

Thyme

Fennel

Mustard seed

Celery seed

Sprinkle of Cloves (ground)

Sprinkle of Nutmeg

5% Vinegar or lemon juice (or your favourite other edible acid, tomato juice would in theory work, lime juice is mid.)

Salt + pepper

1 tbls Paprika

Steps:

Butter in that pot, medium

Spices, add em, leave ‘em until they smell good, it won’t be long.

Beef and a splash of your acid in that pot, cook until 1/4 done

Carrot and celery in that pot, get em hot but don’t cook em too long.

Diced onion, spinach, and paprika + salt n pepper to taste in that pot, med-low

Stir, cover, leave it alone for 5ish minutes

Uncover, add garlic to that pot, cook until it smells like garlic

Stock + the canned bean and frozen spinach water, add it.

Canned tomato, add it.

Potato, add it.

Cabbage, add it.

All them herbs, add em to taste (I use roughly a tablespoon each of em dried, but I like my shit strong.)

Bring it to boil on high

Let that bitch simmer, you may need to periodically add water if he’s goin too hard. (START MAKING THOSE SOUP DUMPLINGS RN IF YOURE DOING THAT)

When the potato is 1/2 done that quartered onion (and the dumplings)

Finish the potato.

Bam. Soup. I like it more cold, but it is intended to be eaten hot.

Soup dumplings

I stole this from my roommate and add em to most soups tbh

Kitchen items:

Bowl,

Wood spoon,

Your Hands,

You could probably do this in a stand mixer but I don’t have one of those so, you’re on your own man.

Ingredients:

2 cups Flour

Water, hot as you can handle touching, volume required varies,

Salt

Pepper

Onion powder

Garlic powder

Whatever fresh herbs you like (dried don’t work here unless they’re ground absolutely tiny)

1 tbls of your favourite liquid fat (I use olive oil, canola and sunflower also work for sure)

Steps:

Flour, into the bowl

Seasonings, into the bowl

Mix well.

Add the fat

Slowly add water, mixing often until you get a slightly sticky ball.

Knead for a bit, I don’t really know how to describe the texture bc I’ve been making bread since I was a kid (and this is just a yeastless bread dough) but its finished when it stops really sticking to your hands (it’ll be tacky, not sticky)

Divide into 1 inch balls

Drop into the soup roughly 30 minutes before it’s finished.

Serve in the soup

Congrats, soup balls.

[trivalentlinks]

following a lazy recipe when you're actually lazy

i've seen a bunch of "lazy meal" recipes (not on this site, just in general) that start with "chop two medium onions", "chop 4 medium carrots" and/or "mince/crush 2 cloves of garlic and 2 inches of ginger"

and these people's 'lazy' clearly means something different from my 'lazy', so i wanted to share how i make lazy meals:

Start with frozen chopped onions from the frozen section of the grocery store, looks something like this:

they are usually only slightly more expensive than buying whole unions if at all (at my grocery store, they are, pound-for-pound the same price as fresh)

fry it in oil or butter for a few minutes (like 5 minutes), then add frozen chopped carrots, something like this:

(these are more expensive than fresh carrots, (per weight, almost 2x the price at my grocery store compared to whole fresh carrots) but chopping carrots is so much work, and also the whole fresh carrots are sold in 2lb bags, which is more than i'd usually use in a week)

then fry it all together for about 10-15 more minutes

(it takes longer to cook because they are frozen, but i still consider this "lazier" because you don't have to chop. if you don't like it taking longer, you can also microwave the frozen onions and carrots before cooking to defrost quickly (for example microwave the carrots while the onions are cooking); that's still easier than chopping)

then, once the onions are softened and yellow, add the relevant amount of ginger-garlic paste, something like this

that you can get from a south asian grocery store, or from the international aisle of a larger grocery store with more options

(at my grocery store this is also cheaper ounce-for-ounce than fresh ginger and garlic)

(store it in the fridge after opening it, it can last for months)

sometimes i also like to have separate garlic paste and ginger paste in case of recipes that only call for one of them,

but almost all recipes i follow use both, and even when it only calls for one, it usually still tastes good if you use both anyway, so usually i don't bother having the separate ones

(disclaimer: store-bought ginger garlic paste tends to have some vinegar for preservation. in pretty much all recipes i use, i feel like it doesn't matter (it's not enough to affect the taste of the end product), but if you're worried, you can blend together ginger and garlic in a blender to make your own)

now proceed with the "lazy meal" recipe that you're trying to follow, you've just saved yourself the steps of

chop onions (which irritates your eyes)

chop carrots (a lot of work and hard on the knives)

mince/crush ginger and garlic (a lot of work and makes your hands smell like ginger and garlic)

happy lazy cooking

[pedros-immaculate-vibes]

A Peaceful Elf

Part IX

Halsin/Tav fanfic (slow burn, fluff, angst)

Halsin spent a good portion of the afternoon and evening patrolling. It always steadied him, made his heart lighter. Tav didn’t seem to mind the time alone, either. In a camp normally spent with several others, time alone when you wanted was a luxury. Apparently, it was a luxury they both enjoyed.

Dinner consisted of ingredients he had found in the woods while securing the nearby area: puréed sweet potato with a wild onion/celery/carrot base, some assorted spices sprinkled in. Roasted garlic cloves (a little burnt) on leftover bread Gale had made recently. A leafy carrot stalk garnish. Not something he thought would be served by a finer cook, but he took some pride in what he’d managed, all the same.

“My, my, look at this spread,” Tav reached out for the plate and bowl, steam wafting off of the food and into the night air in curls. “Is this because you feel bad for my leg or because it’s hard to make food this pretty for eight grown buffoons?” She closed her eyes as the aroma reached her. “Helm’s beard, that smells amazing.”

A deep laugh rumbled in Halsin’s chest. “I’ve been alive for 350 years with plenty of that time spent out in the wilds. If I couldn’t cook with what nature provided by now, I could scarcely call myself a grown elf, let alone a druid.” He sat down on a chair next to Tav, and kicked his feet up on the other cot. “And mostly because of your leg.” They ate in an oddly comfortable silence for a few minutes, until a light tension seemed to flow between them. Tav was the first to cut it.

—

“So,” in between mouthfuls, and having more gumption with a mostly full belly, “Tell me more about yourself. I feel like we’ve been traveling for weeks,” swallows a mouthful, “you’ve probably saved my life twice now: when the gnolls came and you healing my leg right afterward,” another spoonful, “and I feel like I still haven’t gotten to know you properly yet.”

He paused, thoughtfully looking at his bowl, “It’s true, and I can’t imagine I helped with that. Sometimes, I can let the task at hand consume me,” a huff like a tired laugh, and he lifted his head to look out at the night sky beyond the tent canopy, “people have said I can get a bit obsessed. Ha, believe me,” he looked back down at his bowl, scraping for another spoonful, “the day I no longer have to talk about the shadow curse will be a very happy one,” almost rueful. Then, his face brightened a few shades and he looked at you, “What would you like to know?”

You nestled your now empty bowl on top of a pack near the cot, and propped your head up with an arm. You decided to go for something obvious and smiled to yourself. “Well, for starters, you’re kind of LARGE for an elf, aren’t you?”

Halsin smiled in shock, “I AM?” in an incredulous tone.

Chuckling, he continued, “Trust me, it’s been said. You’ve shown more restraint than most in avoiding the subject until now.” He sighed. “It’s a natural question but I have no good answer, I’m afraid. Perhaps, there’s a half-orc buried somewhere deep in my ancestry,” shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “Or perhaps not. Sometimes, I think conventional wisdom is too narrow about what a person can or can’t be. Stranger things have happened, to be sure.” He rose and took your bowl on top of his, bringing them to the wash bucket near the center of camp. “Anything else?” he offered, smirking back at you while scrubbing the dishes clean.

“I don’t know, let me think a minute,” pensively drumming your fingers on your lips.

Halsin chuckled again. He seemed to enjoy this game, as did you.

Placing the dishes to dry on a towel-covered crate, he began strolling back to the tent.

“I’ve got one: how did you come to be a Druid?”

“Ah, that is a good one,” he nodded, sitting back down in the chair with an Umph and stretching his long legs out onto the cot once again, crossed at his ankles. He looked up at the tent ceiling, calm as he recollected. “I had a friend when I was young, long ago. He played with me in the forests where I grew up…eventually, I realized no one else had heard of him. His name was Thaniel.” A light chuckle, “Nature was my very first friend. I continued to age, but he never changed a day.” A look of loyalty shined in his face. “I knew then that I had to be more than just a companion to him, I had to be a protector.”

That’s quite noble, you thought, not surprised in the slightest. “Hm, that’s a good reason.”

“I thought so,” his smile had a hint of sadness.

You could see the shadow of melancholy and decided it was time for a new question. “What’s something I would never think to ask?”

Halsin brightened. “Ha, alright, let’s see,” he bit the inside of his cheek while he thought, knitting his fingers behind his head and flexing his thick arms back.

His arms—

He gave you a sideways glance, “Um, I suppose you wouldn’t be shocked to learn I like animals and nature?” he said self-consciously, as if he were telling a hackneyed joke to an audience. “Haha, I know, well-trodden territory,” he looked back up at the tent ceiling. It was cute to see him with his guard down; it made you wonder how often he had ever let it down at camp.

“Hm, let’s see,” he continued, genuinely trying to find something unique about himself worth telling; that exercise alone made him uncharacteristically off-balance. “Well, I—uh, whittle in my spare time?” He intoned as if asking for validation. “And I have something of a sweet tooth, although everyone is always very amused when I say ‘I like honey’,” a quick exhale through his nose showed mild irritation.

“Oh, really?” You were genuinely surprised, unsure as to why, and you wanted to make sure he knew you were interested in what he had to say. It came across as if no one had asked him something like this in a long time, if ever. “What do you whittle?”

Momentum jumped back into his answer, “Oh, a few things. Ornaments, utensils,” he paused, lost in thought for a moment, “and ducks. I like ducks.” He looked back down at you with one of the purest smiles you had ever seen in (what you could remember of) your life.

You adjusted your chin to the palm of your hand and your head to your shoulder with a quiet laugh, “So you turn into a bear and you like honey?” You lifted your eyebrow with a smile. “That’s a little on the nose, don’t chya think?” You couldn’t stop your eyes from softening; there was something about him…

“I like what I like,” he stated, then added with a humorous, confident air, “Once you get to my age, you realize there’s no point in denying yourself, so long as other’s aren’t affected.” 

Simple as that.

I wonder what else he doesn’t deny himself… 

You could feel your blood begin to ignite, again.

“Well, I can’t argue with that.” You didn’t fight the flame this time; it was exhausting and futile and would make you awkward and conspicuous. Instead, you found solace in the fact that you wouldn’t act on the flame, however high it razed you. You settled further into your cot and blankets, beginning to feel drowsy. “Thank you for sharing,” you nodded, daintily.

A quiet smile painted his face and he rested his arms down, turning in his chair to face you a bit more. He rested his elbows on his knees. “Thank me by returning the favor. Come on, I’m sure you’ve got something better than carving ducks,” he added, playfully.

“Ha, well, okay, um…” seconds passed while you thought. You rolled onto your back (so you would be less distracted by him) and stretched your arms up and behind your head. “I don’t remember much from before the crash…Oh, here’s one: I love fields of flowers, but I’d rather have a field full of herbs, like marjoram or cilantro or mint, any day,” you perked up. “They smell deep and green—complex. It’s hard to explain—like, there’s more to them than the vibrance that lasts until a light frost. Let’s see…what else,” you scrunched your face up at the gently undulating tent fabric. “Ah! I’m deathly afraid to try Lae’zel’s cooking.” You both snickered. “Would I trust her with my life? Absolutely, unless that involved a spatula.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, still smiling to himself. A few pleasant seconds passed. He sighed and began to stand up. “Well, I should get back to my studies. Thank you for the company,” he bowed his head minutely like a gentleman and began to leave the tent when—

“Wait.”

He waited.

“I—So, I don’t know how to ask without it sounding strange…” you looked pensively at your feet. “When all of us were here, it made sense to have separate tents. We all made a perimeter. But we’ve gone from eight to two…”

“…You want me to stay…”

“Even if only until I fall asleep,” you looked back up at him, trying very hard not to sound pathetic. “I keep imagining something coming in the middle of the night,” whether it was a gnoll or a butler, you couldn’t decide. You just knew it felt like it would be a restless night, and you were still an easy target. “If you did stay, well, four ears are better than two,” you chuckled weakly, hoping that including logic into your request would help.

He nodded thoughtfully. “You’re not wrong. Perhaps…perhaps it would be wisest,” his expression shifting from strained to relenting. “Do you mind if I study with a lantern on?”

Relief flooded you. “Not. At. All.”

He smiled back, “Right. Then, I’ll be back.”

Grateful he took the request the way you had intended, you relaxed back into the makeshift pillow. It would still be a restless night knowing everyone was out doing gods-know-what, but having at least one other person nearby at night made you feel safer, if only by a fraction.

And the fact that it was him…you couldn’t decide if that comforted you or put you more on edge.

I wonder if he snores.

—

Halsin returned to the tent, batting away an errant moth, books stacked neatly in hand. Atop the tomes sat a mirror. “I forgot to tell you, Astarion wanted you to have this,” he mentioned, handing Tav the glass. “He said you might be in need of it.”

“Where those his exact words?”

Halsin looked away, busying himself with preparing the newly claimed cot. “More or less.”

“HA, I’m sure. You’re a bad liar, bear-man, but that’s a good fault to have. Gods, he can be a prick, sometimes.”

“Hm, that’s bear-elf, to you,” he grinned. Another lull before he spoke, “I do not pretend to understand your relationship with him, but I believe he meant it as a kind gesture.”

Tav held it thoughtfully, “I know. He always adds a bit of salt to the sweetness.” She paused, “He can be hard to get close to, at times.”

“Mm, he probably has some very good reasons for that. People often do. Perhaps, his trust has been broken one too many times, and you are the first to challenge that pattern.”

Tav looked at him strangely, like he was the first to ever say birds could fly or trees came from seeds. “Perhaps.” She clearly wished to change the subject, and asked in a milder tone, “What books do you have this time?”

“More literature regarding cursed lands and the Underdark, nothing more,” he replied lightly, reordering them on the table before sitting in the cot. It creaked and stretched audibly. He held one in his hands, hair rustling around his downturned face as he began to study.

—

The way he said “literature” made your brain tick pleasantly.

“You seem to take the shadow curse very to heart,” you noted.

“Well there’s hardly anyone left to share the responsibility with,” he looked up from the first page. “What Ketheric released onto Moonrise is not something that nature can resist alone. I must do what I can.”

“That must be a heavy burden to carry alone,” you mused solemnly. “Do you know how it can be stopped?”

“Perhaps,” he angled his head from side to side, considering, “but we need to get closer before I can put my theory to practice. Put it from your mind for now. Once we near the curse, then there will be more to be said.”

If you hadn’t been so tired, you might have put up more of a fight; there were clearly things he hadn’t shared regarding where your journey took you. 

Instead, your eyes focused on moths fluttering around one of the strung up lanterns in the tent, and with each passing breath, you slid further from the waking world, hearing “Rest, dear one,” somewhere between life and dreams.

[myers-meadow]

Serpent Tongue: Valak x reader, Ed Warren x reader

Title: Serpent Tongue

Fandom: The Conjuring (particularly part two, and 'the devil made me do it').

Summary: Valak has his eyes set on a particular brand of torture for the Warrens, involving the protégé that is staying in their guestroom. As helpful as the protégé is to the family, this web of complications may just unhinge everything the Warrens have ever worked for. Temptations become more difficult to ignore, and Valak is not the only one to indulge.

Warnings: 18 +. dub-con, perhaps even non-con depending on interpretation. Sexually explicit content. Rough fucking. Reader is female. Cheating. Degredation. Oral (m receiving), penis in vagina sex. Open ending.

I had such a blast writing this, these little delightful snippits are truly how I enjoy exploring these concepts the most. Please do exercise caution while reading.

Ao3 link. And link to my masterlist.

Wordcount: 3780 words.

Divider by @/firefly-graphics.

I don’t remember how it started. Surely, it was gradual. A secret that grew unnoticed, like a missing hair pin, missing but not missed, nothing big by itself. In the shadows it lived and became more than just a shadow and it spoke to me.

A body pressed against mine at night, in the guest room of a house that should be cleansed of anything evil. A priest blessed it twice a week, and Ed and Lorraine swore it was safe. And if anything was there, she would sense it, and deal with it. Still, it was there, hidden from Lorraine’s gifts, and I sensed it grow stronger over time. The whispers grew louder, the shadows darkened, the touches grew firmer. The temptations… worsened.

.

“What is your name?” I asked it one night. The weight next to me shifted, a grip on my wrist. It was too dark to really make anything out, yet a pair of yellow eyes stared into mine, just centimetres away. My wrist lifted, moved over my head.

“You smell of blood tonight,” was all I received in return. Even when it released my wrist, I wasn’t in control. It was dream-like. As if consequences didn’t exist. A nose nudged mine and my eyes fluttered shut. A long, thin finger slid down my belly, over my pubic hair, until it reached my folds.

“You’ll surely be disappointed to know I’m only menstruating, and not mortally wounded.”

A quiet laugh sounded. “Shh, I’ll relieve the pain for you.” And the finger curled against a spot that had me whimpering.

.

During the day, at the library, I felt the presence weighing down each stack of books I moved. The medieval scripts were almost second nature. When I wrote down my name, I elongated the s just like they did. When returning home, my hands were dry from the frequent washing, to make sure the books wouldn’t degrade from the oils on our fingers. At home, it was my turn to cook. Lorraine had taken Judy out for a walk, it was such lovely weather, the tail-end of summer. Jackets left at home. I chopped the carrots with rhythmic precision, hoping to get done on time before Ed got home.

The front door opened and closed, shoes taken off, footsteps.

“In the kitchen,” I called, moving to the stove to stir the onions sizzling in the pan.

Two arms wrapped around my waist. His cologne.

“Hmm, smells good already. Is Lorraine out with Judy?” The vibrations of his voice carried through his chest and into my back. Ed brushed my braid over my shoulder, resting his chin on my crown.

“They’re on a walk,” I replied, trying to continue on cooking. It wasn’t new that he made me nervous, but his affections were changing. He squeezed me into him tightly, before letting go.

“Had a good day today?”

“I suppose. Same old, same old,” I peeked over my shoulder at him. He leant against the counter, arms crossed, looking at me but not at my eyes. “Lizette said that they have an interesting manuscript coming in next week, but there’s been some delays. We’ll see once it gets there, though, if it really has something to offer.”

Before either of us could say anything more, the front door clattered open and the two returned from their walk and the conversation turned to more cheerful things.

.

That night, the eyes and whispers were back.

“Won’t you afford me one night of peace?” I sighed, finding my breath halted by its proximity.

“It fascinates me how you much you know about me and my kin, yet are so susceptible to temptation.” A hand on my throat, a the pad of a clawed thumb touched my lips.

I scoffed at its words.

“A non-believer, even after all you witnessed,” it continued. “You fascinate me in many ways.”

Suppressing a yawn – it must be after midnight by now – I asked: “How so?”

“I’d almost take it as flattery, how you spend all that time researching me. All those books you search for, that thirst for knowledge – yet I’m right here, always.”

“What is your name?” I tried again, as I did almost every night.

“Wouldn’t that make it easy for you, hmm? No. You enjoy the challenge, but don’t desire the power that comes with the knowledge of my name. You do it for them.”

To devote my life to the Warren’s cause, that was the condition on inhabiting the guest room. To take care of Judy when they were on a case. To do their research, to take care of the house, to be an extra pair of eyes and hands. But all I am is an extra weakness.

The demon huffed, heated breath fanning my face. “You’re no fun today. Tired?”

“Yes,” I replied sharply.

“Why don’t you think of me a little longer?” it murmured, and the heat of his lips connected to mine. The taste of ashes was still there when I woke up.

.

Another day, a gloomy one. Autumn approached us. Lizette rapped her knuckles against the heavy oaken door of the small room I sat in. The Latin on the page made my head swim, but all I could think of were Lorraine (her glances around the room, to just behind me) and Ed (his health), who were out on a case. Somewhere two states away. It felt wrong to be so far from them, but life trudges on.

“The manuscript you wanted came in a few days ago. Something went wrong with the system, so I wasn’t notified. Would you like to see it now?” she said.

“Yeah, I’ll pick it up. Can’t focus today. Have you had a look at it yet?”

“Ah, a bit, yeah. Neat hand, and it was later edited by another scribe, which is always interesting. It has parts in Latin and in common.”

I stood up, closing the book I was reading in and coiling the string of weights into a spiral. “Not just another one with the 8th century date-rape drugs?”

She barked out a laugh. “Perhaps.”

The book was interesting, went in-depth about the rituals to summon demons. Some of the names I recognised from the Ars Goethia or from other manuscripts upon a first look through the thick pages. If the copy machine wasn’t still broken, I’d have made copies for at home.

.

Once home, the routine continued. The sizzling of meat in the pan, green beans boiling in the pot next to it; Ed pressing a lingering kiss to my hairline when Lorraine turned her back. I sprinkled parsley from the backyard garden over the potatoes and we sat down to eat.

.

Lorraine stopped me, in the morning. It was Saturday. Judy had climbed into bed with Ed and they had a lie in, but she had been too awake to go back to sleep and went down for coffee. Finding me in the kitchen, gold rimmed teacup in a trembling hand.

“Good morning,” we exchanged greetings. She seemed tired.

“Wouldn’t you like to sleep some more? Its only 7:30,” I said.

Lorraine shook her head with gentle smile, putting her cup of hot coffee down on the table as she sat down. “Let the two of them have their lay-in without me tossing and turning. How about you, what’s got you up this early?”

Couldn’t help but glance around, check the shadows, but likely he was listening. “The demon you had me research… It feels like I hit a roadblock. I’m sorry I can’t be of any use lately.”

She shifted in her seat, folding her hand over mine, warm with residual heat from the coffee cup. “Dear, why didn’t you tell me how you were feeling earlier? You mean so much to us, even when you’re just here, even if you don’t find anything worthwhile in your research.” She sighed softly, eyes warm, gave my hand a squeeze. “Judy loves having you here too, she said she likes how calm you are, that you don’t make her feel like a freak.”

We chuckled. “Thank you.”

A shadow behind Lorraine moved, but it was gone before I could focus on it. I hesitated. “There’s another thing, too. Have you noticed anything different lately?”

She sat up straight, retracted her hand. Even despite the care she showed others, she guarded herself well.

“What do you mean? If I’ve had any visions?”

I nodded.

She shifted again. “What kinds of visions?”

Avoiding her gaze, I instead focussed on the teacup in front of me. “Do you remember the painting Ed made? The one in-”

“In his office? Yeah.”

“That’s the demon you’re having me research, isn’t it? That’s what you want me to focus on. But the way he appears there is not his real form, so you didn’t tell me.”

She twirled her wedding ring around her finger. “Yes, it is. There is… history there. Finding out anything at all about him is valuable. The fact Ed dreamed about him is already worrying, and now that you’re asking if I’ve noticed anything different makes me believe you have seen him too.”

My voice dropped low, “Only his eyes.”

Her head cocked to the side, examining me, as if she looked right through me.

I shrugged. “And the usual, shadows, noises. Nothing much, but if I can sense it, I’m sure you’re bothered by it even more.”

.

The night was darker than usual. Awoke to breathing by my ear. Attempting to wave it away and turn on my side was met with pinned hands – fingers interlaced - and a deep kiss to my lips. A forked tongue against mine. I panted as it let up, threw my head back to avoid another lengthy kiss.

“You’re quiet,” I taunted. “Anything the matter?” The venom seeped through my voice. Another punishing kiss. Its teeth cut my lip, copper mixing with the taste of fire. I inhaled sharply as it sucked my lip, darting that split tongue over it. When those yellow eyes bore into mine, I realised they were previously closed and it seemed like it was genuinely enjoying this.

“What is this for?” I hissed, angry at my previous thought.

Finally the demon spoke. “He wants you,” its voice gravelly, something ancient. “I can taste his need, and his guilt.”

Its words felt significant somehow, as if they betrayed something more of its nature.

“You want this to happen. You want him to-”

“Yes? Say it, doll.”

“To hurt Lorraine.”

“Intimately,” it agreed, and kissed me again. A tear leaked from the corner of my eye. His hooked nose rubbing against mine, breathing the same air. It was hot, unbearably hot, underneath the duvet.

“You won’t break her.”

“I’m almost disappointed,” he whispered, voice hoarse, “it seems you’ve given up so easily.”

An unseen force parted my thighs, the weight of him increased, as if he only now became fully corporeal. A knee finding the right pressure to grind against my vulva.

“Never,” I said, before arching up and biting his bottom lip.

.

Lorraine visited family with Judy, but Ed remained home. He needed the rest, for his health. I flipped through the scans of the manuscript I made. The radio played something soft, something acoustic. Ed looked up from his book to where I sat by the window, his forehead creasing as I caught his gaze.

“Anything interesting in those pages? Come, let me see.” He motioned me over, and I stood up. The alternative would be worse, but the dread in my stomach mixed well into something resembling arousal. Before I could reach the couch next to the chair he sat in, he pulled me down to sit onto his knee, in between his legs. This was fine, this was just- just a thing any fatherly figure would do. Right?

His easy-going smile, the one that won Lorraine over, and his bright blue eyes were for me then. I bit my lip and spread some of the more interesting pages out over his other leg, putting the rest of the stack on the coffee table.

“There are inconsistencies between the original text and the later edits, but it’s difficult to discern. I’m guessing there’s at least a century between the edits, but some seem to be made much later if I look at the script.”

He looked over the passages I pointed too. “The editor was messy.” His hand, big, warm, rested at the small of my back. Even that contact sparked a flurry of butterflies to erupt.

“Messy, but experienced. Even when taking the rhetoric of the time into account, he details several attempts he made, and of why he thinks the experiments didn’t work.”

“Hmm, interesting,” he said, before shifting in the chair, sitting up straighter. The paper forgotten, flittering somewhere to the floor. His other hand on my knee.

My mouth opening as if to say something, which he caught, his expression turning sly. Hand from knee up to shoulder, to cheek, to the back of my neck. I braced myself against the back of the chair as he tipped my balance over, enough to fall into him, weight crashing into his broad chest.

A messy kiss, teeth clashed from the surprise of tumbling. I braced my forearms against the back of the chair, chests pressed together. A forceful hand tipping my face to deepen the kiss. He tasted of coffee, warm, human. With a start I realised I hadn’t kissed another human being in over a year. Ed pulled back, resting his forehead against mine.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.”

“Fuck,” I mumbled.

He chuckled. “You’re more than this good girl façade you show us, ain’t you?” Nipped my lip. “Well, show me.”

.

Showering that evening, alone. The water rushed over my face, I squeezed my wet hair and scrubbed my scalp. The lights flickered briefly and I felt it close in on me.

“Your guilt tastes different from his,” it spoke, disembodied. Lights went dim, I pushed open the shower curtain, saw the switch flip off.

“Quit messing around,” I protested, almost believing I deserved the torture for what I did. Expecting it to taunt me so more, then leave, I continued showering.

From the shadows formed a shape, something that sucked all light into it, something impossible to focus on. The eyes were brighter than ever, and it stepped behind the shower curtain, into the small space of the bath with me.

“You taste… sweet.” Clawed hands reached out to me, spun me around, my back to its chest. “Sweet and sticky, like honey. Can you see how my hands are coated in it?” A dreamy sigh, hands kneading my hips. Trying my damnest to ignore him, I rinsed all shampoo from my hair, then reached for the body wash. It was the one Lorraine used, vanilla and magnolia blossom scented.

“That’s just the soap,” I replied stubbornly, tone bitter. “You’re showing off, I take it you’ve been eating well?”

The creature was so tall it enveloped me, bending over to kiss and lap its forked tongue at my wet skin as I soaped myself. “He was the meal, you’re the dessert. Now I’m wishing I hadn’t had so much of him, so I could enjoy you more.”

Its groping hands made cleaning myself frustrating; they were quick to return each time I pushed them off. When I elbowed him, that was when the jig was up. A low growl, inhuman, dangerous, and instead of a tongue, now it was teeth and claw. A pull at my hair, making me look up into its demonic face as it hung above me, and punished me with a kiss that made my lips bleed. In panic, I turned the nob, the water briefly scalding hot before I managed to turn it off. Heaving, pressed my hand to my bleeding lips, and the demon had vanished.

.

Both of them grew bolder. For Ed, there was only one boundary: not in the their bed. Anywhere else, though, was fair game.

The Sunday chores; laundry day. I was at the ironing board, positioned one of his button ups, before pressing the hot iron into each crevice. His big hands over the sensitive spot where the demon clawed at my hips the night before, so I brought one of them up to my breast. He took to it greedily, kissing my ear and neck.

“Look at you, bein’ all good for me. I’m glad I’m the only one who can see this side of you,” he said, hot by my ear, before suddenly stopping and turning me around.

“Honey, what are those? Are those bitemarks?” he asked, voice alarmed, rubbing the spot at the crook of my neck. “What could have done this?”

I shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “It’s nothing.” Unconvincing. Terrible performance. I sighed, daring one look at his worried face. “Ed, do you remember the demon that you painted?”

“It was a demon? Oh, little one,” his voice lowered. “I knew there was more to you,” a growl, eyes burning with something animalistic. The shift felt unnatural. “Has it tasted you like I taste you now?”

I whimpered into his mouth as his hand constricted around my throat. Hand digging into the raw skin where he first spotted the marks, he pushed me down on my knees.

“You witch, I can’t believe we’ve let a temptress stay in our home.” The edge to his voice was dangerous, cruel. It crushed my heart, although it was foolish of me to hope he really did care for me.

“Ed, please,” I tried, but was met with the unbuckling of his belt.

.

The demon was delighted that night. It rubbed the bruises from Ed’s hands on my hips, right by its own claw marks. The yellow surrounded by darkness, the lifting of the duvet to make space for its body. Its new, corporeal body.

“Doesn’t it feel good to be desired? Wasn’t that what you wanted, to be needed so deeply?”

I gasped against its cheek as it pressed down on a bruise.

“You liked him right from the beginning, and now you’re getting to know the real him. The side of him he can’t show to that lovely wife.”

“You’re cruel,” I bit out, exhausted from the day, “and unfair. This isn’t the real Ed.”

The demon laughed. “I can see into his soul. He wanted you for so long… You, on your knees. Getting to call you all sorts of filthy names, my sweet witch, the one to aid my will. You may as well give me more now, he already thinks you’re mine.”

Hair brushed from my face, forked tongue dancing over closed lips. So tired that I opened up and let him indulge.

He hummed. “Delicious. Why don’t you go to sleep, doll? Let me help you to sleep. It’s only fair I reward you for doing so well.”

And he did, making my head swim, stealing my breath with kisses, rocking its cock in and out, slow, deep, making my toes curl even when half-asleep.

.

Quickies were Ed’s favourite. Any opening to shove himself into me was taken with glee. Somehow he was exactly the same as he always was, when we weren’t alone. A wink during dinner sometimes, or an extra hand on my back. If Lorraine noticed, she didn’t let it show. There was barely anything to notice, Ed was the perfect husband.

But with me, he was unbelievably different.

“Say you want it, whore,” he bit out between clenched teeth from behind me. The vase on the kitchen table wobbled with each thrust. Roses Ed gave to Lorraine after their anniversary last week.

I gripped the table for some semblance of support and did as he demanded. “Fuck me, please, I need you to take me.”

His gruff voice by my ear. “You feel so good, you succubus bitch. Don’t even have the dignity to feel guilty for tempting a man of god.”

I couldn’t help pushing myself up and turning my upper body toward him. “Ha, you’re weak of flesh, then.”

A smack to my ass, stinging even as his hand returned to the back of my neck. “Open your mouth,” his barely restrained anger distorting his voice, each thrust drove against the mouth of my womb, painful but so good. My eyes wide, trying to control my spasms each time he pounded my insides, I opened up.

With just a movement of his lips as warning, he spit in my mouth. The act of it was obscene, but I moaned before realising it, eyes unfocussed.

Each time he worked me over, I saw stars, and when my mind refocused, the normal, adoring Ed returned. He held me after, on the couch, legs slung over his, petting my head.

“It will be alright, don’t you worry, my little one,” he whispered softly as his steady movements brought me down from whatever high I was on.

“I’m still worried,” I said.

“No need, love.” He pressed a kiss to my temple. He was warm. His fingers smelled of newspaper ink, I kissed each of them. “We’re a strong team, and I’m so grateful you came to us.”

.

The demon showed a tenderness that Ed didn’t seem capable of when we were intimate.

“You’ve ruined my life,” I told the yellow eyes, before turning on my side, trying to sleep. Trying to refuse him with the little means I had against a demon.

“I’ve given you everything you wanted. I fulfil your every desire, and even now,” a clawed hand opened my legs, the shadow above me kissed its way down my neck, “after such mean words, I’ll satisfy you some more.”

“It’s only a matter of time before Lorraine finds out. Or I’ll tell her. And then I’ll be thrown out and you’ll lose your plaything.”

He laughed, the sound vibrating through the hollow in my lungs. Mouth went down, spending extra time on each nipple, forked tongue flicking the sensitive nub, before licking down my stomach. “It’s amusing you think I’d let you go so easily. You’ll be by my side, as I sit on my throne in hell. I’ll have you then too, for the rest of eternity.”

I scoffed, before the words seeped in fully, then stopped. His tongue lapped at my heat, his hands keeping my hips steady.

“You’re too perfect like this.”

.

When Lorraine found out, it was somehow worse than I imagined. ‘It was the demon that corrupted us,’ said Ed, ‘I never wanted to. She looked just like you to me.’

And she believed him.

[wordsvomit101]

11. Lilac

(1 year after the death of Mr and Mrs Lee)

In the cozy confines of their home, Minhyeok busied himself in the kitchen, preparing gilgeori toasts for himself and Raon as the light from the outside windows slowly darkened. The warm glow of the stovetop illuminated his face as his hands danced across the bowl, deftly combining the vibrant hues of cabbage, carrot, and green onion with a symphony of seasonings

The air fills with the tantalizing aroma of sizzling butter as he transforms slices of bread into golden brown, their crisp edges whispering a promise of delight. With practiced hands, he makes the cabbage mixture, coaxing it into a firm rectangle from his spatula's touch, and dividing it into two perfect squares. As they sizzle and turn an enticing golden, their edges sing a chorus of readiness.

Meanwhile, Raon, who was sitting at the kitchen counter doing her homework, looked up and noticed the growing darkness. She quickly got up and walked over to the right wall, where she flicked on the light switch. The kitchen was suddenly bathed in a warm, inviting light, casting a golden glow on everything in its path. The smell of freshly toasted bread filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of mugunghwa from the windowsill. The wind rustled through the leaves of the trees outside, creating a soft, soothing sound that seemed to harmonize with the gentle hum of the refrigerator.

"Geez, you sure worked hard in that cultural workshop last summer", Raon said as she walked over beside him, her face now brightened with the promise of good food.

She wasn't wrong, Minhyeok fondly recalls his lively experience at the cultural workshop during summer camp, where he immersed himself in the vibrant traditional cooking of different countries. His skills improved and he also got to take home some of his and other people's creations. One of his favorites is the mango gelatin salad from a dessert enthusiast, the girl, and most others, was very kind to let him have a bite in each of her dishes, thankfully she seems to also take a liking to his meals like their peers.

"I'm stoked you're so eager for this quick snack that you totally spaced on your homework. But, hey, heads up, it's due tomorrow in the second period, you know?", with a teasing chuckle, he glanced back at Raon noting her annoyed and tired frown at him, daring him to remind her of her procrastination.

"Ugh, seriously? Let me relax my brain for a bit, won't you? Don't worry, I'll get it done. Thanks for the reminder, Mr. Killjoy."

He let out a short laugh at her and with a flourish, he stacks these patties upon a slice of toast, sprinkling a bit of sugar upon them without much thought. The skillet beckons once more, its heat embracing slices of ham, their sizzle a welcome addition to the symphony of flavors. He thought about her recent late-night research again when he saw it on her laptop while helping her clean her bedroom again, which surprisingly was not about fiction novels or comics, but hair dye and eye lenses.

"While I was being your personal room cleaner, I noticed your laptop was all about hair dye and eye lenses. You're not plotting a secret identity change, are you? Or are you planning to join a punk rock band?", this got him a slap to the back, not enough to hurt due to the lighthearted nature but enough to sting a bit.

"Can't I have a little privacy around here? Seriously, you're worse than a NIS agent!", she walked back to her seat and answered his questions with a huffy voice as he placed a crown of melted cheddar cheese glistens with an irresistible glow atop the ham. He then placed it upon the cabbage patties, overtop with a drizzle of ketchup and mayonnaise, and the final slice of toast as a final touch.

"Okay, okay, sorry for snooping around. I also didn't mean to tease you about it. So what's the story behind the hair dye and eye lenses then?", as he sliced two toasts in half, he could feel the reluctant from the girl behind him. She signed out a bit before admitting.

"You know how it is at school, right? Everyone's always staring and whispering about my hair and eyes, if it wasn't for Ahjussi and Ahjumma, the principal would still think I'm looking for trouble. I'm on a mission now to get some black hair dye and brown lenses to blend in and stop all the fuss", she explained and took a half toast from the plate he put on the counter, a glint of shock from her eyes as she looks at the toast before taking a bigger bite. He better snatched at least one before she took it all.

"But why the sudden urge to change things up now? I mean, we've been in middle school for months, and you've been fine all this time. What's changed?", this got a flinch out of her and he narrowed his eyes at the movement. He doesn't have a good feeling about it.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, she finally spoke up, her voice tinged with unease, "Yeah, um... It's because of my new friends at the book club. They, uh, they don't really into the whole pink-purple combo I've got going on, you know?"

Minhyeok couldn't help but feel that those people had pretty bad taste, though he wisely kept that thought to himself. He knew that saying it out loud might put the girl on the defensive, especially since these were her first experiences with friends outside of their circle. After a moment of contemplation, he carefully chose his words.

"You're my friend, and I'll help you talk about it with my parents if that's your choice, Eomma does know a lot of good hair salons", this got Raon perked up but deflates at his next words, "However, if you started to dye your hair for a long time, it might mess it up, and eye lenses? Isn't that a bit much if your eyes are fine?"

She munched slowly on her second toast before sheepishly asking him, "Then... what do I do then?", he really doesn't like how she look lost and sad like this trying to please people who probably wouldn't care less about this topic a month later.

"You already look good without having to change. Not just me, a lot of people will think that", he's not lying, Raon never looks bad, her unique traits make it easy to find her even in the crowd of people, and the pink-purple of her hair and eyes have a calming feel about them. Like the lilacs he once admired from Mr Lee's garden.

"Thanks, you're too nice... But, let's be real. My hair's all over the place, and these eyes? They're just... odd. I don't get why you think they're anything special... they're never as beautiful as my Eomma's", she said in a somber tone, with a hint of wetness in her voice, and she averted her eyes from his.

Not willing to handle the silence in the closed space, she takes the third toast before standing up to walk out to the house's backyard to sit on the patio chair to watch the sunset.

He also followed along and sat down beside her, letting the quiet between them ease her heart, and observed her as the sun cast an ethereal glow on her. The warm, golden light enveloped her in a halo of luminosity. Her delicate features, bathed in the soft glow, seemed to come alive, the curves of her face and the vibrant hues of her pink-purple hair and eyes taking on a new dimension.

He could almost see the aureole around her, bathed in the golden embrace of the setting sun, her beauty was beyond lovely and there was yet a time his breath was not stolen from looking at her.

"You know", he started, his heart beating loudly in his ribcage, his words catching her attention, "Believe me this time, you stand out in the best way possible. Like a lilac in a field of wildflowers"

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

End notes:

Gilgeori toasts are a popular street food in South Korea. The term "gilgeori" translates to "street corner," indicating that these toasts are often sold at street food stalls or food trucks. Gilgeori toasts consist of toasted sandwich bread filled with various ingredients such as scrambled eggs, ham or bacon, cheese, vegetables like cabbage or lettuce, and sometimes sauces like ketchup or mayonnaise. They are typically grilled or toasted until the bread is crispy and the fillings are warm and melty. Gilgeori toasts are enjoyed as a quick and satisfying snack or meal on the go.

"Eomma" is a Korean term that translates to "mom" or "mother" in English. It's a loving and affectionate term used to address one's own mother or to refer to someone else's mother respectfully.

An NIS agent typically refers to an agent of the National Intelligence Service (NIS), the primary intelligence agency of South Korea. The NIS is responsible for gathering and analyzing intelligence relevant to national security, counterterrorism, and foreign affairs. NIS agents undergo rigorous training and may be involved in various operations, including espionage, counterintelligence, and protecting the country's interests both domestically and abroad. They play a crucial role in safeguarding South Korea's security and interests in an increasingly complex global landscape.

[angelasscribbles]

Savage Love Chapter 33: Finally, a Break

Series: Savage Love

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake normally but for THIS chapter, there's a little Riley x Madeleine

Word Count: 2,549

Rating: NSFWish

Warnings: Lemon scented

My other stuff: Master List.

“Thank you so much for inviting me to dinner tonight,” I gushed as I stepped into Madeleine’s private room.

Her room wasn’t much different than my own. The small, round table situated halfway between the sleeping area and the bathroom was set with candles, silver covers adorned the serving dishes, and a bottle of chilled champagne rested next to the plates.

Oh yes, this was an intimate dinner. Any questions I had left about her intentions towards me vanished in a puff of smoke as I took in the room and her elegant, but revealing, dress.

I knew exactly how to get information out of her.

“I’m so happy you were available!” Her smile dropped as she produced a wand scanner, “Sorry, this has to be done first. It’s not that I don’t trust you…”

I gave her my brightest smile, “Trust but verify! I understand completely!”

I felt vindication that I hadn’t let Drake talk me into any type of device that would transmit as Madeliene ran the wand over every inch of my body. And I do mean every inch.

Her hand rested a bit longer than necessary on my hip. She clicked the wand off and stepped back with a smile, “I knew you’d understand! You really are one of us! I told my father we could trust you!”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, especially with your father! He’s the leader, right?” I kept my tone light as I made my way to the table.

Madeleine took the seat opposite me and reached for the champagne, “Oh, of the Cordonian branch, yes. Emmeline is his lieutenant.”

I opened my eyes wide in feigned surprise, “The Cordonian branch? You mean…there’s more?”

“Oh yes,” she tittered as she filled our glasses, “We have chapters in nearly every country in Europe!”

“Wow!” I breathed out as I batted my eyelashes, “That’s impressive!”

“It is and one day I’ll take his place as leader.”

“I don’t doubt that for a minute!” I gushed, “You’re so smart and driven! I like that in a woman!”

I mean, it was true enough. I do admire strength and drive, I just prefer those things to be directed at the greater good, not at self-aggrandizing and building criminal empires. But I was intimately acquainted with the latter, just about every target I’d helped take down was powerful and ambitious, in all the wrong kinds of ways.

Like most narcissists, heaping praise on her encouraged her to continue talking about herself, which was my goal.

“I could say the same about you,” her gaze lingered on me as she poured the champagne.

I lowered my eyes to the table, pretending to be caught off guard by the admiration. I licked my lips then slowly lifted my eyes to her as I raised the champagne flute, “To strong, powerful women then.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Her eyes stayed locked on me as we drank. She lowered her glass with a smile, “I hope you enjoy the meal, I wasn’t sure what you like, but Italian food is usually safe.”

I inhaled appreciatively as she removed the lids from the serving dishes. Chicken and mushroom risotto, focaccia bread, a simple salad and over roasted vegetables, an aromatic and colorful mix of yellow squash, zucchini, onions, bell peppers, potatoes, carrots, butternut squash, and beets.

“Everything looks and smells delicious!” I told her honestly.

The meal was delicious, but then food from the royal kitchen always was. The Rys family understood good cuisine, I’d give them that. It seemed like a good way to steer the conversation back toward the royal family and hopefully more information on the Via Imperii.

“King Constantine sure knew what he was doing when he hired the kitchen staff! Good to know that when I’m queen, hiring good help won’t be an issue.”

That earned a smile from Madeleine, “You’re very confident, aren’t you?”

I gave her a self-assured smile as I swirled the effervescent liquid around in my flute.

This was it. The moment I solidified my position within the Via Imperii ranks and earned their trust once and for all.

It’s not like I was giving away state secrets. Everyone would know about the abdication come morning, but this tidbit of insider information would convince them that I was on their side and prevent the fact that I was present in that council meeting from ever biting me in the ass if it got out.

With a teasing lilt in my voice, I informed her, “Because you were right about Leo and Olivia, but I have news you’re going to want to hear.”

“I’m all ears,” she leaned forward with interest.

“Leo abdicated today! Which means Liam will be the next king and Liam and I have already….well…bonded.”

She watched me warily, “And how do you know this?”

“I was there!”

“You were in a council meeting? How?”

“I told you…Liam and I are close. I was with him when he got the call to meet Leo in the council chambers, so I went with him.”

She stared at me in silence for a heartbeat then her face lit up like it was Christmas morning, “I knew we could trust you!”

She was so very, very wrong.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” she took a long, slow sip from her glass before peering over the rim at me, “I already knew all of that.”

“What? How?” I demanded, my surprise real. No one outside of that council chamber should know yet.

“We have a source,” she replied vaguely, “May I ask why you advocated for continuing the social season rather than getting engaged right away?”

“Appearances,” I answered promptly, “The monarchy needs the support of the noble houses after all. Making them feel like they wasted their time and resources by sending their daughters is a mistake. One Leo already made. Liam can’t afford to compound that if he’s going to be a strong ruler. I don’t want to start out on the wrong foot with Cordonian elite society. I’m working on their behalf, after all.”

Clearly, there was a leak in the council, that was the only possible explanation. Relief flooded me that I had made the right call by telling her I was there so it didn’t look like I was hiding things from her. Which I was. But she didn’t know that.

I made a note to myself to let Liam know there was a traitor sitting on his father’s council. And to be a lot more careful with my comings and goings on the third floor.

I decided to shift the subject away from what had gone in the council chambers, “When will you reach out to Liam? I assume that’s the next step.”

“Oh, absolutely! Within the week! I’m not hopeful though,” she frowned as she pushed the food around on her plate, “He’s far too close to Drake Walker.”

“Wasn’t he raised as a member of the royal family?”

“Yes,” she tapped one fire engine red nail against the edge of her gold-rimmed bone china plate, “But his blood is still common. I don’t know how the entire Rys family became so enamored of the lower classes that they allowed one to strut around pretending he’s one of them…”

“It doesn’t matter,” I reminded her, “Even if he declines our offer, I will be the next queen, allowing us a foothold in the administration.”

“True…” her eyes traced my face thoughtfully, “He does seem quite taken with you…”

“We do get along quite well,” I agreed noncommittedly.

“How well?” Was that a note of jealousy in her voice?

I gave her a wicked grin, “Well enough. Don’t worry, I’m sure I can wrangle him down the aisle with no problem at all.”

“So, your alleged connection with Leo…”

I shrugged as I stabbed a forkful of salad, “It was true, we connected when we first met. But to be honest, you were right about Olivia, I couldn’t quite pry his attention away from her. Liam, on the other hand…”

“Hedging your bets,” she nodded, “That’s forward thinking, I like it!”

When the meal was finished, Madeline suggested drinks on the balcony, but before I could make it to the door, her body blocked mine. She leaned into me, one finger trailing from my throat to the valley between my breasts, her eyes heavy with desire as she asked, “Just how invested are you in Liam?”

I gave her a sultry grin as my hand went to her face, “Liam is just business. Why do you ask?”

Then she was kissing me and goddamn if it wasn’t a good kiss. I melted into it a little. Why did all the psycho killers kiss so fucking good? Rico had been a good kisser. Too bad he was out for my blood now. Just like Madeleine would be if she ever discerned my true intentions, so I grabbed two handfuls of her hair and made the kiss believable. I pushed my body against hers and slid my tongue past her soft, pouty lips into her welcoming mouth.

She moaned as her hands glided down my back, landing firmly on my ass. She breathed my name against my lips.

I released her hair, my fingers gliding down the velvety smooth skin of her back to tug at her zipper. I pulled the zipper down and then slipped my fingers under the thin straps of her dress, pushing them down her arms.

She arched her body into me as she returned the favor, stripping the clothes from my body and lavishing brutal kisses along every inch of exposed flesh her lips could find.

She was bare in front of me as my hand cupped one perfectly rounded breast.

I jolted forward as her hand slipped between my legs, stroking gently but firmly through my panties.

One day soon I’d be slapping cuffs on her, and not in the fun sexy way. But that day was not today, and I was ready for what she was offering.

A shrill chirping noise cut the silence and she cursed thoroughly as she pulled away from me with a shaky breath. “I am so sorry, but that’s my father’s ringtone. I have to take it.”

“It’s fine,” I told her as I stepped away from her, “We should probably slow down anyway.”

Always leave them wanting more. It’s not the giving it to them that gets their guard down. It’s the pursuit of it. Lust and frustration make everyone stupid. Careless.

She excused herself to the bathroom for privacy as I put myself back together. I straightened out my dress, fixed my hair, and reapplied my lipstick.

When she came back out, she was wrapped in a towel and her eyes were glittering with excitement.

“Good news?” I fluttered my eyelashes at her.

“Great news! But why are you dressed? You’re not leaving are you?”

“I didn’t want to intrude on whatever that was about,” I gestured toward her phone.

“Hmm,” she tossed the phone onto the bed and tapped a highly polished nail against her pouty lips, “I have to join my father for some Via Imperii business.”

“Then I’ll get out of your way,” I tossed my hair over my shoulder, making sure my cleavage was on full display as I did so.

She was clearly torn between wanting to finish what we started and whatever business was going down with the Via Imperii. She seemed to come to a decision. Reaching out for my arm, she stopped me in my tracks, “Come with me!”

“Go with you where?” I laughed.

“You don’t need to know the details.”

“I can’t just leave in the middle of the social season,” I protested as if I hadn’t just gotten back from Auvernall, “what would that look like?”

She regarded me with equal parts desire and frustration for several long seconds before blurting out, “If I tell you what it’s about, will you come?”

“Madi,” I moved closer to her, filling my eyes with concern, “I would never ask you to reveal anything confidential.”

My seeming disinterest was enough to convince her that I could be trusted, “We know where the missing heir to the throne is!”

My eyes widened, betraying my actual shock, “Really?”

“Yes!” She was positively squirming with delight, “Apparently leadership at the global level has always known where the heir is. They finally decided to let my father in on the secret.”

“And they’re sure this heir is legitimate?”

“Oh, yes. DNA testing has verified the child is a Rys, apparently living in Vallenheim all this time. We’re going to meet in Hidar to discuss possible next steps if Liam proves as intractable as his brother.”

My blood ran cold. They only needed another heir if they were planning to dispose of Liam. Leo had removed himself from the line of succession, so he was safe. Articles of abdication were permanent. He could not sit on the throne even if something happened to Liam.

Though technically by abdicating Leo had removed him and his descendants from the line of succession, Liam could appoint one of Leo’s children his heir if he had no children of his own. But neither of them had any children yet. That would make a sibling next in line.

But Liam would have to abdicate or die for the throne to be vacated. And I couldn’t see that man abdicating for any reason. He was too loyal, too dedicated, too fucking honorable.

Fuck!

“I’ll go,” I kept my voice light, “If it means I get to spend more time with you!”

There was nothing and no one that was going to keep me from pursuing this lead. Maybe when I found Liam’s sister, I could convince her not to go along with the Via Imperii.

There was always a chance she was being held by them against her will. I wondered again why Eleanor had hidden her away.

“Excellent!” Madeleine clapped her hands together, “You should go pack a few things! We’re leaving in two hours. Meet me out front in an hour and a half and we’ll head to the airfield together.”

“How long will we be gone?”

“Shouldn’t be more than a few days. We have to be back before the next court-sponsored event.”

“Yes, I’m looking forward to the regatta.” The social season was winding down and I needed to take down the Via Imperii sooner rather than later. I probably had enough to take down the Cordonian faction right now, but they would simply regroup. They could easily rebuild and regain a foothold within the country once the GIA was gone.

But If I played my cards right, we could take the whole thing down.

I had to take the whole thing down, because as long as the Via Imperii existed anywhere in the world, Liam wasn’t safe. As long as they possessed another true blood heir that would do their bidding, his life could easily be forfeited and that was completely unacceptable.

I had to let Drake and Liam know I was leaving. Neither was going to be thrilled about it, but neither was going to be able to stop me.

Come hell or high water, I was going to Hidar.

[thelustybraavosimaid]

In the past fortnight the royal party had been in Winterfell, Aemon was not without either Robb or Arya.

The latter always promised him some grand adventure, and more often than not the two of them burned the day away by playing silly games in the godswood until they were breathless and sweaty and dirty and succumbed to laughing fits, or giggling to themselves as they nick hot fresh loaves of bread or scones from the kitchens, but this day was different.

Today she led him to Winterfell's glass gardens, and he inspected the outside of it. Panes of glass were wedged between the thick slabs of granite stone that matched the castle. Aemon had been told before that Winterfell had been built upon a system of hot springs that fed through the stone like blood pumping in a man's body, and that seemed to be the case here as well. Moisture misted the inside of the garden, and the silhouettes of the workers within were distorted and darker shades of the green and yellow of the glass panels. Utterly unbothered by the presence of others, Arya held onto his hand and led him to the door, the glitter in her grey eyes as she looked back a little promise of adventure.

Who was he to deny his cousin on her name day?

The prince passed the threshold, and was taken with the deceptive size of the inside. Rows of assorted trees, fruits, vegetables, and flowers were sectioned off. Cherries and apples and squash, tulips and blueberries and raspberries, much and more spanned the length of the area. Cooks were tending to the vegetables in one section. Baskets of various sizes were filled with carrots and leeks and onions. They spared them a furtive glance from time to time, but generally paid them no mind.

Two things truly caught him. The first was the scent of the room itself, familiar and comforting, though this was his first tour of the gardens. It was warm and earthy, and it hit him that this was the smell that clung to Arya's skin. Wind and water and freshly tilled earth, blended into one as if the gardens themselves formed her. He took a deep breath, relaxing.

The second was how hot it was in here. Not hot enough to stifle one's breathing, but warm enough for perspiration to dot his brow. But despite the sweat on his hand, Arya's grip was still on his, tight and sure, and he continued to follow.

The air was very sweet here, and they stopped before a little field of shrubs. Blackberries, he thought, his mouth watering. Did she know the fruits were his favourite? Some of the five-petaled flowers were still in bloom, while fruit bore in other spots—some pink and red, unripe and sure to be sour, while others still were dark and ready for picking. Arya filled her hand with those, and offered them to him with a shy smile.

Aemon scooped up half with eager greed and shoveled them all into his mouth, relishing the taste. He felt the liquid dotting the seam of his lips. This is not princely, he thought, unbidden as his tongue subconsciously darted out, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Arya's cheeks were puffed with fresh fruit and the juice was already staining her lips a deep purple, a stream threatening to escape further and down to her chin, and he wanted to laugh at the sight. It didn't help that one of the cooks chased them off, slow and lumbering, telling them that they needed those berries for pies.

She wiped her mouth with the back of the hand. "I want you to see the flowers," she declared, jutting out her chin in a stubborn pout.

He nodded his assent.

Arya led him to the section of flowers, the sweet smell mingling with earth.

"I love the smell of this place," she confessed. "The covered bridge where you can see the whole of the yard is my second favourite spot."

He quirked a dark brow. "You never told me that you liked flowers."

"Why would I bring you here if I hated flowers, stupid?"

"Because you enjoy spending time with me, little cousin. The longer the better." He snorted, following her as she named more. Red flowers, blue, pink and purple, the colours of the rainbow were on full display. She plucked a sweet-smelling blue flower and brought it to her nose before reaching to tuck it behind his ear. "You are holding me hostage with games and adventure because you know how impossible it is to deny you anything. I can see right through you, Arya."

"It's my name day!" A ghost of a smile traced her lips. "Why wouldn't I want to show you my favourite spots?"

He ruined her hair further with a ruffle. "And that's why I'm here, little cousin." Though I'd still be here even if it weren't your name day.

Aemon's gaze travelled until he spotted a rosebush off in the distance. Now it was him leading her somewhere; he inspected the bush until he found one to his liking. Smiling, he withdrew the little blade his queen mother had gifted him and sliced it off with ease.

"What are you doing?" Curiosity littered her voice. The smile was still plastered on his face when he slanted his head.

"As thanks for the berries, allow me to make something for you." He ran the blade down the stem, slicing a few thorns off before he looked back up at her, raising a brow. "Do you object?"

She sucked her lip between her teeth and chewed. He took her silence for acceptance, and so he continued his work.

As his fingers danced, he had launched into a tale of how the Queen Lyanna taught him the names of various flowers, and he had committed them all to memory—gillyflowers and poppies, dragon's breaths and thistles and everything in between until she eventually plucked a red rose for him. Back then, he had taken the petals off, one by one, carefully twisting the stem to impale them on the thorns to mimic the one she wore, but then she picked another one and showed him how to make a flower crown proper. The queen's hands were strong as she cut off the thorns and twisted and wove, feeding one and then another through the weave. By the time she had finished, there were four fat roses sturdily braided in a thick tangle of stems, one for each side.

And remember, her lilting voice softened as she put the crown on him, no one wants to be pricked by thorns, Aemon. Make sure you remove every one.

Lost in his memory, Aemon followed her old instructions until it was well-fashioned enough for him to rest it on Arya's head, the weight making it sink in dark tufts. Instead of one on each side, he had made a crown of three roses littering in the front.

"My mother was my father's Queen of Love and Beauty," he said absently. "Father says she does her duty well, but sometimes I think she prefers the first crown he gave her."

His hand found her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Was it just him or was she...glowing? He was caught by surprise, and he found himself watching her. Sparkling grey eyes, a pink flush to the cheeks, a rough tumble of dark hair in loose northern braids, a smile as wild as she herself...she is pretty.

Very pretty.

He broke from his thoughts with a blink and a cleared throat. "There," he said, straightening. "Now you are my Queen of Love and Beauty."