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crimsonstonetranslations · 2 months

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Shinrei Tantei Yakumo Another Files - The Lamenting Doll - epilogue

Shinrei Tantei Yakumo novel translation

Another Files - The Lamenting Doll

( first | previous )

epilogue - afterwards

“Tasty,” Haruka blurted without realising as she ate the hoto served in an iron pot.

Packed with lots of vegetables, the dish was rich in flavour, alleviating the exhaustion from her body.

“You’re right,”

Sat across from her, Isshin narrowed his eyes and expressed his agreement.

“Good grief. Finally we can eat a proper meal,” grumbled Gotou who sat beside Isshin as he threw a piece of torimotsu into his mouth, before chugging an entire glass of non-alcoholic beer in one gulp.

Haruka fully understood the feelings of Gotou, to have said that.

Ever since they had arrived in Yamanashi, spiritual cases had kept on coming one after another that they hadn’t been able to eat well.

Even when they had been staying at the hotel, they had only eaten onigiri or sandwiches from the convenience store thanks to the case that had suddenly happened.

It was only when they were about to head home that they eventually visited a restaurant called Yasohachian along the Koshu Kaido road, and had the chance to eat hoto like this.

Feeling content, Haruka shifted her chopsticks, but when she turned to her side, she found Yakumo staring at the pot full of hoto with a sour expression.

His food remained the way they had been served, yet to be touched at all.

“You’re not eating?” asked Haruka.

Yakumo lifted his eyebrow. “Must be nice for all of you to be so carefree,” he said, sighing.

What could be making him so displeased?

“Hoto is essentially a home-cooked dish,” he said, crossing his arms.

“I know.”

“In that case, you should understand how unnatural this hoto is,“ Yakumo glanced at the pot.

“Unnatural in what way?”

“What kind of home-cooked dish would be served in small single-portion pots?”

“That’s…”

Having mentioned that, it was true. A typical household wouldn’t have any single-portion sized pots such as these.

“Hoto should’ve been cooked in a large pot, and then divided into bowls to be served. Serving it in a small iron pot like this is just for show,” said Yakumo blatantly.

“Don’t say unnecessary things. As long as it’s tasty, serving it in any container won’t make a difference.”

“Well, that’s not surprising. A bear with damaged taste buds such as Gotou-san will never understand,” Yakumo immediately replied.

“What did you say–?!”

Isshin calmed Gotou, whose blood began to boil, saying, “Enough, enough.”

“He may be giving all sorts of excuses, but Yakumo simply can’t handle hot food,” said Isshin, throwing a gaze full of smiles towards Yakumo.

What. So that’s how it is.

For Yakumo who was unable to eat hot food, iron pots were his natural enemy as they preserved the heat circulating within the food.

Despite all the arrogant talk, he merely couldn’t eat yet as the food was still hot.

“Can’t eat because of the heat? That’s cute of you,” Gotou said mockingly.

“No. This has nothing to do with heat. I’m talking about the culture surrounding food here.”

“In that case, go ahead and try eating,”

Gotou’s clapback made Yakumo frown and went silent.

How unusual for Yakumo to become like this, who normally would always get back at Gotou.

His figure seemed so adorable that Haruka laughed without realising.

Yakumo’s glare instantly landed at her.

“All of you are so noisy. Just eat already, no? Eat—” said Yakumo in annoyance, lifting up his chopsticks, but his movement stopped.

Haruka knew he was forcing himself.

“What’s wrong? You’re not eating?” said Gotou, riling him up to get back at Yakumo’s treatment of him thus far.

“I’m eating even without you telling me,” Yakumo glared at Gotou, picking up the thick hoto noodles with his chopsticks.

Gazing sharply at the steaming hot noodles for a moment, he made his resolve and put it into his mouth.

The next second—

He spat out the noodles.

While Yakumo hadn’t yelled that it was hot, he immediately drank a glass of water to finish, after which he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue whilst panting. “Hah, hah.”

Clutching his stomach, Gotou laughed out loud.

Isshin grumbled, “This is all because you were being stubborn,” as he wiped the table that Yakumo dirtied.

For a while, Haruka was able to hold back, but it wasn’t long until she burst into laughter as well.

Yakumo glared at her.

Haruka cleared her throat and tried to suppress her laugh.

“Don’t eat directly out of the iron pot like that,” said Haruka, moving the hoto from Yakumo’s pot into a bowl.

Even so, Yakumo still didn’t touch the hoto.

“What now? You want Haruka-chan to blow on the food and feed it to you?” teased Gotou.

Haruka’s face burned from embarrassment. Blowing on them would be fine, but not with feeding.

Realising she was imagining the idea put Haruka at a loss on what face she should make, so she turned her face away.

Huh?

It was at that moment Haruka realised that at the inner part of the tatami room where they were dining, hung a parchment scroll with a piece of painting stuck on it.

She wouldn’t have cared if it was any ordinary painting, but that painting in particular really caught her attention.

“What is it?” asked Isshin.

“That painting—” said Haruka, pointing at the parchment scroll so that everyone’s gaze were all focused there.

Depicted there were two men standing with their backs against each other.

One of the men appeared to be a samurai; carrying a sword on his waist while wearing a stern expression on his face.

The other person was a man clad in white kimono, holding a kongozue, his head lowered with a hint of sadness on his face.

And—

The man in the white kimono had eyes as red as blood.

Perhaps he was the same man that was in the painting they had seen in the sake factory.

“A curious painting, isn’t it?” said the middle-aged restaurant owner, who came to bring some tea.

“Ah, yes.”

“That painting has been handed down for generations. The samurai person’s name was Naitou Hayato. Well, he’s more known as Hijikata Toshizou of Shinsengumi.”

Haruka was stunned at the unexpected mention of a historical figure. “Hijikata Toshizou came to this place before?”

Yakumo sighed in disbelief. “You know nothing, do you.”

“My bad.”

“After the Battle of Toba—Fushimi, Shinsengumi was renamed as the Kouyou Chinbutai, and fought against the Imperial forces in Katsunuma.”

“I see...”

Haruka had no idea.

“According to the legend that was passed down, on his way to Katsunuma, Hijikata Toshizou visited our restaurant. This painting was painted at that time,” the restaurant owner said proudly while serving the tea before leaving.

This trip to Yamanashi had all started because of the painting of the man wearing a white kimono with two red eyes. Haruka never would have guessed that they would encounter a different painting depicting the same person.

Furthermore, he had been painted alongside Hijikata Toshizou, a notable person in history.

This felt like it was fated.

If the person in white kimono had been Yakumo’s ancestor, that would mean Yakumo had some connection to Hijikata Toshizou.

Thinking about it brought Haruka into a sense of wonder.

“How remarkably interesting. Perhaps we could find out more if we look into it in more detail,” said Isshin.

Gotou made a blatantly displeased look.

“Don’t be joking. We’re all the way here and you still want to go around?”

“Well, that’s true. Why don’t we go again next time to look into it?”

Haruka agreed with Isshin’s suggestion.

It would be interesting to come again next time to look into the man in white kimono that might have been Yakumo’s ancestor, with no spiritual case involved.

“Hey, Yakumo-kun. Let’s look into it,” said Haruka, hoping for Yakumo’s approval, but Yakumo responded with a sullen expression.

“That’s not necessary.”

“Why?”

“I don’t care who that person is. Just that…”

“What?”

“Despite living in a more difficult time than today, he accepted his fate nonetheless. Knowing that alone is enough for me.”

Yakumo’s words touched Haruka’s heart.

Based on what they had heard in the sake factory, this man had been a purification expert. He wouldn’t have been able to do it if he hadn’t accepted his own fate.

From Yakumo’s perspective, who had been suffering because of his red left eye, simply knowing that fact could become a support for him.

“Right—” Haruka nodded lightly.

“Well, looking into it or not, I’d like to come here without any spiritual case,” Isshin said cheerfully to wash away the gloomy atmosphere.

“You’re right,” Haruka replied with a smile.

As their trip this time had been overtaken by spiritual cases, even now she hadn’t really felt like she had come to Yamanashi. Next time, she should come without such matters weighing her down and take her time in doing so.

Surely it’ll be fun—thought Haruka, wallowing in emotion as she looked out the window.

The sight of Mount Fuji accompanied by the setting sun signified the end of their trip.

#shinrei tantei yakumo #psychic detective yakumo #shinrei tantei yakumo translation #psychic detective yakumo translation #yakumo saitou #saitou yakumo #manabu kaminaga

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i-yap · 4 months

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Hi Lovely,

I don’t know if your requests are open but I thought I’d try my luck. My cat died today and I’m really upset, I was hoping you could do hurt/comfort hcs with Jason (and maybe platonic Damian as he’s the big animal lover)?

Thank you x

Hey im so sorry for your loss man. even the dog in my dp has now passed away and he was my baby and I get how painful it is. I still miss him everyday and refuse to have any account picture without him . Just really take the time to heal and don't let any idiot tell you that yourent supposed to feel sad about a pet passing because honestly I loved my pet more than my brother and I'm sure that cat was loved and lived a great life.

Also my requests are always open I love writing them

Jason Todd x reader x platonic damian- When your cat dies

comfort, angst

It was expected almost, they were just so old and the visits to the vet had become more frequent. It seemed like they was in pain, and that hurt you so much that you wondered if maybe it was for the best. But your heart didn't let you accept that, they were your baby and you cant just accept loosing them like that.

So there you sat , on the sofa, clutching Jason while you sobbed. He sat silently, holding you to him firmly. He had already texted Bruce / militia saying he wont be In that night or as longs as you needed.

Jason isnt the best at comforting words , but there are no words to be said. What jason is good at though is validating your feelings. Even though he has limited interactions with your cat, he could see how deeply you cared for it.

So when your tears start to dry and you pull away from his chest he gently rubs away the remaining tears. He picks you up and carries you to the kitchen counter. Sets a pot of boiling water to make your favorite noodles/ tea depending on when you last ate. He then walks to the freezer and holds an ice pack in his hands . After a couple second he places his cold hands on your poofy tear stained cheeks .

"Im sorry to have burdened you, you dont cry when you've been shot and here I am crying over some cat . You don't have to stay, you must think Im so weak" you say softly feelings the tears starting to well up from the gentle way jason's treating you.

" No No I will hear none of that. How dare you think you are weak. I admit I don't know how to comfort you ..i never really got attached to a lot of things. But I love this about you, the way you love so much and so unconditionally. And the way you hurt for someone ..that's the real show of love. If the roles were switched, would you think I'm a burden? no right? So why would you assume I would? i want to be here for you, whatever you need whenever you need."

" you are doing really well so far"

the doorbell rings and Jason goes to open it.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE DEVIL SPAWN"

"Shut it todd, I'm here to see y/n."

"And why should I let you see her?"

"Because I know her cat died and I know you are incapable of comforting her since you have never felt an ounce of love for anything"

"I LOVE Y/N?? ALSO HOW WOULD YOU KNOW THAT- wait you hacked something didn't you?"

"Bruce informed me you would be staying in tonight andI have trackers placed on you and y/n and saw you driving to and from the vet , also Y/n hadn't logged into her work account. Even you would have been able to deduce that y/n needs me right now" says Damian matter of factly.

"dont be rude todd, let dami in" you say getting off the kitchen counter. You go over to shake dami's hand but he pulls you into a hug. You and todd exchange confused glances.

" I apologize for your loss y/n, if anything happened to my pets I would stab todd and then burn down a civilization" Dami's voice muffled from your clothes.

"WHY STAB ME"

"because you probably had something to do with it, You are very affection hungry when it comes to y/n"

"WHA-" "I agree with dami" "WHa-is that a backpack Demon spawn?"

"Yes , i will be spending the night here watching some "feel-good movies as she says it with y/n, I cant leave her in the hands of a barbarian now can I"

"I WAS TAKING CARE OF HER JUST FINE" shouts jason mock angrily, after all he understands how Damian and Y/n share a bond when it comes to their pets.

"Be happy I didnt tell the rest of the bats todd" " thank god for that"

You pull Dami in and fall asleep cuddled between your two amazing and caring boys, knowing that your cat was loved and spent their last moments knowing there were people in this world who will cry once they leave.

I hope this was okay , there weren't A lot of headcanons ..

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radioisntdead · 5 months

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Ways to piss off an Italian

Alternatively three ways to cartoonishly piss off an Italian

Hazbin hotel x reader [Platonic]

Warnings:

Italian stereotypes, just jokin' around this is all in good fun! I put an Imp OC of mine in as the reader assistant! She just pops in and out to stir things up! Reader's learning to cook other types of food because they've hadn't had to cook for themselves in ages they just had others do it. Ending is a little off but we don't talk about that I finished this at 6 am I need sleep, Angel isn't that pissed mostly dismayed

Good evening folks! This is a side story with Eldritch horror reader and Angel dust because he's Italian, this is somewhat inspired by my own bit of how my younger self made it her mission to piss off Italians because of that Italian TikTok duo back in 2020-2021 [???] She did not succeed as she did not know any Italians and all she did was eat spaghetti noodles with anything but a fork.

this is also the 100 followers special! Now at the time of posting we are FAR past that at 207! but better late then never! Thank you so much for the support, I genuinely did not think this many folks would like my silly little writings, I adore getting y'all's requests, comments, and just appearing in my inbox genuinely it makes my day thank you! And I hope you enjoy!

Angel Dust took great pride in his Italian heritage and culture, as he was truly Italian.

Unfortunately he lived with a centuries old Eldritch horror who may or may not have lived in Europe during the bubonic plague and didn't understand the more "modern'' Italian or Italy at all, and others that didn't understand the "sacredness" of the Italians.

🍝The spaghetti.🍝

You took over cooking in the hotel, you and Alastor had begun fighting over the kitchen, whoever got there first got to cook and today, you were victorious.

You were exploring new recipes you had thus far made spicy tteokbokki and Korean corn dogs, some type of curry that was sonic blue, teriyaki chicken, hummus and other things! You experimented with different flavors, seasonings,

These tasty things would've ended you if you ate it back when you were alive and not dying of the bubonic plague.

Anyways, you decided to give making spaghetti a try because you were in the mood for something fairly easy to make.

As you perused the recipe book while humming along to the songs playing from Alastor's radio show, you nodded noting down the ingredients before pulling out the phone that the little Imp that worked for you had bought you insisting you should have one to contact her instead of hunting her down at random and dragging her away.

You squinted as you scrolled through the few contacts you had until you reached said imp's phone number and slowly texted her a barrage of ingredients to buy.

Cece carefully opened the hotel doors and skittered over to the kitchen, having memorized the route since she delivered ingredients to you almost daily at this point.

You grinned as you took the ingredients from Cece's hands turning around to place them on the counter while she pulled up a chair and sat down waiting for the inevitable "Dear Cece can you cut this" or "Dear Cece can you stir this"

You washed off the tomatoes before slicing in an x and blanching them, you peeled the tomatoes after and diced them up before putting them aside to cut up yellow onions, you gathered them up and placed them into a pan, sprinkling in salt to unleashed the onion liquids and sweetness.

You added in some prechopped garlic and let it saute.

While that was happening you took the tomatoes and crushed them, once done you combined the tomatoes with the rest letting it simmer.

You added other components like herbs, basil and a little olive old at the end just for fun.

You filled up another pot with water to boil, sprinkling a twinge of salt and stirring it in.

You brushed your hands on your apron, as you scooted around to find the box of spaghetti noodles, grinning you opened it and take out the pasta.

It was at this unfortunate moment Angel dust decided to waltz on into the kitchen, intending to see what was for dinner and maybe snag something to munch on, you held the dry pasta over the pot, both hands gripping the ends

"Hey tentacles, what's for- WHAT THE FUCK!''

"Good evening Dearest Angel! I'm making spaghetti!"

You said unfazed as the pasta snapped in half and dropped into the pot as Angel dust watched in pure horror.

"Why would you do that?!" Angel asked, his voice pitched as he asked arms gesturing to the pot of sad broken pasta boiling away.

"Make spaghetti? I didn't think it was such a controversial meal"

"No! You broke the pasta! That's like the biggest sin ya can do! What is wrong with ya?"

"We're already in hell, I don't think sins matter much here," Cece popped in, you jumped slightly forgetting the imp was there.

"They do when it comes to' fuckin' pasta toots!"

Angel dust shouted before promptly turning around and leaving the kitchen, leaving you completely confused and Cece amused, unfortunately her amusement turned into irritation as you asked her to grab the ground beef and roll it into balls so you could cook them because meatballs.

During dinner time your spaghetti was a hit!

Charlie complimented your cooking saying you outdid yourself while Vaggie was grabbing a second serving, Sir Pentious enjoyed slurping up the noodles, Niffty kept stabbing the meatballs foe whatever reason, Husk seemed to enjoy the meal however Angel dust had one pair of arms crossed while he reluctantly ate, it was good he could admit but he knew the sin that you had committed while cooking, he knew that innocent pasta had been broken.

Angel dust almost died a second time when he walked into the kitchen later that night for a midnight snack and witnessed a probably drunk Husk eating leftover spaghetti pasta with ketchup because the sauce you had made was on a higher shelf in the refrigerator and he didn't feel like climbing.

🍕 pineapple pizza time.🍕

You and Alastor had... For lack of better words got into a little fight over the kitchen, tentacles, shadows, mild mind control and other things were used until Vaggie stepped in and separated the two of you,

It was decided that pizza would be ordered for the hotel, much to Alastor's disapproval.

Cheese, pepperoni, pineapple and ham, and supreme were the pizzas ordered unbeknownst to Angel dust since he was coming back to the hotel from a hangout with Cherri.

"Angel! Welcome back we ordered pizza!" Charlie said waving the spider over as Vaggie placed the pizza boxes onto the table.

"Great! I'm starvin'!" Angel walked over just in time to see the box containing pineapple pizza opened up.

"Nevermind I'll starve."

"We have other pizzas Angel."

Vaggie did not get paid enough to deal with this, she didn't even get paid!

Angel dust was extremely disappointed in you, you were the one to suggest getting pineapple pizza because you quote, "Never had it before and wanted to try it",

You were well over a few centuries old, you weren't a child, you had gone to hell and become an overlord that rained terror for a couple of years and therefore you should've been able to tell that pineapple on pizza was a crime against humanity, so what if pizza wasn't a thing during your time, it was a thing that came to be while you were down here!

He had later lectured you about it, it was amusing to you! You were a feared overlord and yet this little Italian guy had the gull to lecture you, this was normal in families right? To not be afraid of each other? How wonderful!

The lecture eventually switched over to Husk who was eating pizzas folded which was just weird because he was just tasting the crust! What about the cheese? The sauce? THE SAUCE HUSK? DO YOU NOT TASTE IT?

Husk was too sober for the lecture, Alastor found it amusing though.

🇮🇹Italian PowerPoint presentation 🇮🇹

"Alright tentacles, we're havin' a intervention!" Angel dust said throwing his hands down on the coffee table as you sipped something from a teacup, probably tea.

"Is what you dragged us here for? This shit?"

Husk was here, how did he always get dragged into these things? Niffty was beside him trying to stab a roach, Charlie and Vaggie were out of the hotel, Alastor was hell knew where, probably doing radio stuff and Angel dust had somehow tracked down your assistant and dragged her there.

"Oh! Whatever for dearie?" You asked head tilted as you placed your cup on the table,

"You've committed so many fuckin' crimes in the past week! Ya' broke the pasta before puttin' it in the pot! Ya' put cream in the carbonara! Ya ate pineapple on pizza, I get we're in hell but are ya fuckin' kiddin' me?-" Angel moved his arms around to empathize his point "Not to mention that little fusion stunt, ya' deranged octopus!"

You hummed thinking about the meals you've made recently before responding, "I don't think I made anything bad?"

"You decided to put tomato sauce, cheese and pepperoni on cooked ramen and stuck it in da' oven and ate it."

"It wasn't as good as the little people on the interwebs said."

"OF COURSE IT WASN'T GOOD IT WAS A CRIME! IT CAME OUT OF THE DEEPS OF HELL."

"Eh, it wasn't that bad" Cece popped in to stir the pot, Angel slowly turned around becoming slightly more spidery

"The fuck did ya just say?"

Cece shrugged, "Food's expensive and I need to eat."

Cece was picked up and thrown on the couch with you as Angel dust set up a PowerPoint presentation about the history of Italian food and whatever else, You did not want to be here you'd rather be drinking your drink in peace, Husk didn't want to be here he'd rather be drinking, your hellborn imp assistant didn't want to be here, she's never going to Italy she didn't need to know this and Niffty, well she's still stabbing things on the floor.

By the time Charlie and Vaggie returned you had zoned out completely and your mind was elsewhere, Niffty was napping on your shoulder, Cece had escaped by asking Angel if garlic bread was Italian and while he went on that tangent she ran out abandoning everyone.

Husk was more dead inside then per usual, he wasn't paid enough for this, the first hour was fine but this had been going on for five hours at this point, how did Angel dust manage to drag this PowerPoint presentation out so long?

Vaggie shut it down after it was realized that you weren't responding and they thought you had somehow died,

You did not die and you eventually snapped out of it when a white cloth was put over you in order to hide the body.

Good evening folks! Thank you for turning on in! I hope you enjoyed, my apologies for taking forever to get this out, if your wondering why it feels like there's a missing gap that's because I wrote a whole lil' thing of reader and Alastor combining forces to annoy Angel and I accidentally deleted it.

I'm gonna rewrite it eventually and add it to a different fic with Eldritch horror reader, also If your wondering why I have an imp OC in here there is a reason with Eldritch horror and their family complex you'll see eventually

I'll be getting the readers backstory which will be the 200 follower special out [hopefully] soon so tune on in for that! Thank you again have a wonderful day!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #angel dust & reader #angel dust x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you

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ryanmarshallryan · 2 years

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HUNGRY HALLOWEEN (Written back in 2020)

Since everyone was stuck inside for quarantine, Carter mourned he wouldn't be able to visit any fun Halloween parties this year. He loved spooky season, and wished he could go to a haunted house or something. His boyfriend Greg cheered him up by bringing home a bunch of new decorations to put up, and they baked an immense amount of spider shaped cookies, pumpkin cakes, caramel apples, and so much more, and ate so much that they felt like bloated zombies.

Greg brought home a gift for Carter on the evening of Halloween It was an old book of spells he had found in a shop he had never seen before. He thought Carter would love its mystery. Carter thought it would be fun to try out some of the spells and potions included. They still had so many leftover Halloween treats, so Carter decided to start with a "Brew of Insatiable Hunger" which was meant to allow and force the drinker to consume everything they desired. He thought it would help them eat the rest of the Halloween treats. He mixed together the listed ingredients, like granulated sugar, cranberry juice, chocolate, and for some reason, avocado. He mixed in a few more spices it called for and let it simmer for a while. He recited an incantation written at the bottom of the recipe, with a hand motion over the pot of the concoction. It bubbled unexpectedly and seemed to be ready.

Greg smelled the interesting aroma of the brew, and came to the kitchen to see how things were going. Carter and Greg each took a glass of the brew and chinked them together in cheers. Immediately after they swallowed, their hands went to their stomachs. They were starving.

The rest of the Halloween treats were gone in five minutes. They started cooking pasta, heating up left overs, and basically eating everything in the house. They even ordered take out. They were also getting quite horny from the exciting binge-fest, and took off their shirts and sensually flirted as they found more things to shove into their mouths.

"Even just a small glass of this brew made us this hungry. Imagine if we drank the whole thing." Greg questioned.

"Do it, you won't" replied Carter.

Greg raised his eyebrows, took a final swallow of the pizza he had been eating, headed over to the pot of the brew and tilted the rest down into his throat and chugged. Greg felt like his stomach had grown six sizes, even though it still looked like the same bloated paunch it had been all week. Greg gave a mischievous look to Carter, "I could eat a horse. Two. At once." Greg's stomach roared in agreement.

In a passion mixed with horniness and spooky sensation, Carter stripped off his clothes and started lathering himself with butter, "What are you waiting for? If you're really that hungry, then prove it."

Greg rushed forward and pulled Carter into a warm embrace as they kissed passionately. Greg helped rub butter all over Carter's body, then hoisted him up onto the counter. Greg knelt down as Carter shoved his feet down Greg's throat. They both moaned in pleasure. Carter kept nudging forward off of the counter as Greg took more and more of Carter's legs into his mouth and down his throat.

"Eat me, you sexy monster!" Carter exclaimed as Greg leaned forward, grabbed Carter's waist and shoved him in further. Carter's hard-on hit against Greg's face until he shoved that down his throat too. Carter laughed as his feet entered Greg's stomach and were tickled by the stomach acid inside and all the other food he was joining. Carter pinned his arms to his side as Greg jolted back his head, sucking Carter's torso and arms in like a big noodle. They both moaned in pleasure as Greg gave one giant final swallow and Carter was swallowed fully, down into Greg's churning stomach.

Greg could feel Carter playing around inside him, as the doorbell unexpectedly rang. Greg had some trouble getting up, but he was able to waddle over and open the door to find 3 teenage trick or treaters asking for candy. They looked a bit surprised at the odd shape of Greg's gut, but assumed it was a weird costume.

"I ate all the candy, but if you really want it, I could make room for yeh." Greg said jokingly, as he slapped his gut and burped. Carter jolted around inside Greg and freaked out the teenagers, who all ran away screaming. Greg chuckled as he felt his extended belly moving and groaning with Carter inside.

Just as Greg closed the door and began walking to the couch, the bell rang again. It was one of the teenagers. Timidly the young man asked, "How did you get your stomach to do that?"

"Oh, my boyfriend Carter put himself on the menu tonight. Say 'hello,' Carter. A trick or treater is here." Carter bounced inside Greg and exclaimed some muffled greetings.

The timid teenager looked shocked, but excited "Could I join him?"

"Oh, I wouldn't ever actually eat a kid, I was only joking back there - "

"I'm Jared, 19."

"Why are you trick or treating -"

"I like candy and no one can tell you're an adult if you wear a good enough costume."

Greg paused for a moment. Carter jumped a bit. "Well if Carter's okay with it," Greg's belly bounced up and down like an assertive nod, "Sure why not. I'll have to warn you, it's probably gonna be your last time trick or treating..."

Jared shrugged and walked inside the house. Greg closed the door as his stomach growled even louder, hungry for one more meal this hungry Halloween...

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base0h · 2 years

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Ok I just read your story about (y/n) making pasta for killer and can I request one kinda similar with kid.

Scenario being after a battle and a bit tired (y/n) is making a late night meal while everyone's sleeping and kid come wondering it. (´◡`) thank you!

a/n - I’m just gonna make this but with luffy as well 💜💜

Warnings ⚠️ - fluff, g/n reader

Is there a time that luffy isn’t in the kitchen scavenging for food lmao

It was late, the only ones who were awake were you and maybe Zoro who was on night patrol. That being said, he might’ve dozed off as well. You decided to make some pasta, even after Sanji’s cooking, you were still hungry. Right as you were boiling the noodles, you heard footsteps above you. It was as if Luffy awakened from the smell of pasta noodles.

He went downstairs, rubbing his eyes as he stared at you. His hair was messy, and he only had his trousers on, his chest vulnerable to the cold breeze of the sea. “Hey luffy, couldn’t sleep?” You asked curiously as you started to grate the cheese into a separate pan. “I smelled food!” He replied, his eyes sparkling as he bounded over to you. He sniffed the cheese and you swore he started drooling right then and there. You slapped his hands away, making him pout at you, crossing his arms like a baby.

“Don’t eat it yet- dummy.” You replied, continuing to try and make the sauce while defending the food from Luffy. It was quite a difficult task- swatting hands away while stirring? It was hard enough to deal with Luffy’s food obsession without doing anything else. He had almost no patience when it came to waiting for food, especially if you or Sanji were making it.

“Is it done yet?...” He asked, groaning as he melted into your shoulder with a groan. His stomach was already growling even though he ate a huge snack just an hour or two ago. “It would go by faster if you helped.” You replied, bonking his head with your fist.

He bounced to his feet, eagerly waiting for you to tell him what to do to help. Anything to make the food ready faster! “Here, we have to mix the noodles with the sauce, so stir it slowly while I pour them in.” You said, taking the pot and adding the noodles. Surprisingly, Luffy was a pretty decent cook! (If you counted literally just stirring the pot as cooking skills, then he was pretty good)

You poured some of the salted pasta water with the sauce, it always tasted better that way :) “Is it done yet?” How many times has he asked this? You didn’t know, but finally you had the answer he’d been waiting for. “Yeah, it’s done.” You replied as he jumped up and down with excitement.

You poured some onto his plate and he immediately took a bite. He had sparkles in his eyes as he continued to stuff his face with the pasta. “Mffm! Sho GHOOD!” You could barely understand him with his cheeks stretched out with pasta, but the message came across clearly enough. You loved it when Luffy was happy like this, and you’d gladly make pasta for him anytime he wanted.

“Thank you y/n! You’re the best.” He said, kissing your cheek before going back to the mountain of food on his plate. The food managed to disappear in a matter of seconds, you swore he had beaten a record of some sort. You patted his head softly before saying softly, “I love you luffy.”

It was a really late night, after a long battle too. Everyone on the victoria punk was either sleeping or receiving treatment for their wounds. Not you. You were in the kitchen, fixing up some pasta for yourself since you thought after a long fight, this was a nice reward for your efforts. Pasta was such a nostalgic food that you ate when you were younger, it never failed to bring you comfort even on hard days.

Kidd was wandering around, looking for you, only to find you in the kitchen. “Oi, what are you doing?” He asked gruffly, standing behind you with a tired look on his face. His hair was down, his goggles around his neck. His red hair draped down the sides of his face, his intense eyes now softening. “I’m making pasta, want some?” You asked softly. He turned away with a grunt, he didn’t want to admit he was absolutely starving. Not because of his pride, but because he didn’t want to make you work harder for him.

Stomachs don’t lie. When his stomach growled, there was such a long silence, and all you could hear were the pasta noodles boiling softly in the background. Kid’s face turned a bright red, even brighter than his hair as he clutched his stomach with his hand. You struggled not to laugh, “I’ll make some for you too. Can you help me?” You asked him. He nodded and tried his best to follow your instructions.

“Yeah, just grate the cheese.” You said kindly, showing him how to use the block of parmesan. He ended up breaking the entire block in half by accident, his hand was too strong. “That’s alright, we can just use it like that.” You replied, patting his head, earning yet another death glare with red cheeks from the tulip head.

The pasta was almost done! Now to just mix the sauce with the noodles, that was the easiest part! You had your hand guiding his as he stirred the pot as gently as he could. If you squinted, Kid had a soft smile on the corners of his lips, he enjoyed doing this with you. “All done!” You said happily, crossing your arms before serving it onto two plates for the both of you.

He noticed you gave him plenty more than yourself which made him scoop more onto your plate with a huff. “Don’t give me more, dumbass.” He said gruffly, sitting down right next to you. “Kid, there’s literally the entire pot full of pasta, I can get more if I want.”

Both of you ate in silence, but Kid now found a new comfort in his rather- uncomfortable life. Making pasta with you.

a/n - help this was adorable 🥺

#one piece #one piece x reader #eustass kid #kid x reader #kid x y/n #kid x you #kid one piece #eustasscaptainkid #luffy #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #monkey d. luffy #mugiwara no luffy #strawhat luffy #ルフィ #worst generation #straw hat pirates

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mudsock-nicdicks-wife · 2 years

Note

Omg I love your writing 💕

If you're comfy with it, could you do a chubby y/n x gorillaz?

If you would like to add more personality pls text me💗

You can make it about anything!

definitely one of my favorite asks of the day <3

i decided to make it a bit angsty and more abt ed stuff since i needed a bit of comfort for that so i apologize lol.

Gorillaz x Chubby Y/N

(Can be taken as either platonic or intimate relationships)

TW: Disordered eating, body insecurities, and mentions of food/eating.

Murdoc F. Niccals

•He loves your curves so much.

•If anyone body shames you he will be throwing hands (and chairs).

•Will always make sure you're eating enough.

•He likes squishing you when he's stressed (if it makes you uncomfortable or insecure he will stop immediately).

- Mini Fic-

To get Y/N's mind off of eating, Murdoc decided it would be good for the two of them to get out of the house.

The bassist took Y/N to a nearby record store and bought them a few records that they have been wanting for a while.

He proceeded to take Y/N to their favorite stores and bought them their favorite snacks.

Murdoc didn't mention anything about eating the snacks which Y/N was thankful for.

The next morning Murdoc opened Y/N's door to see if they were still asleep. The bassist glanced at Y/N's sleeping form and then around their room.

When he saw the empty snack wrappers he smiled, knowing Y/N had ate at least a little bit.

Stuart '2D' Pot

•He also loves your curves!

•Always will think you're beautiful/handsome/perfect.

•He will distract you with little rants while you two eat.

•He will also try and get you to rant while you both eat so you're not as distracted by the food!

- Mini Fic-

After filming their newest music video, 2D decided to take Y/N out for lunch at their favorite restaurant since filming had taken up all his recent free time.

When they had gotten to the restaurant, Y/N started denying that they wanted anything to eat, which obviously worried 2D that Y/N was picking up on his eating habits.

Against Y/N's wishes, 2D ordered Y/N's favorite food for them and claimed that they could eat it later if they still weren't hungry.

A few minutes into the meal, the singer began ranting about one of his video games he had recently been playing and Y/N began to mindlessly eat.

Y/N had begun to panic when they realized how much they had eaten, but 2D was quick to silence them with words of praise about how happy he was that they had eaten.

Russel Hobbs

•He loves every inch of you.

•Russel will grab you and hold you if you begin to tell him about any insecurities you have.

•He then will talk to you about healthy ways you can help cope with your feelings.

•Will cook you your favorite meal afterwards and will eat with you.

- Mini Fic-

Russel had noticed Y/N had not been eating as much, so he decided to sit them down and bring the topic up as gently as he could.

As soon as Y/N began to ramble about their body insecurities, Russel wrapped Y/N in a tight hug.

After Y/N had gotten all of their feelings out, the drummer started giving Y/N healthy coping mechanisms to help them through their emotions.

When Russel had finished his and Y/N's conversation, he proceeded to make their favorite food and made sure they never skipped a meal again.

Noodle

•She is genuinely confused about how you could be insecure about something so perfect.

•She won't bring the topic up but will set up movie nights and buy your favorite snacks.

•If you ever talk to her about it she will support you in any way she can!

- Mini Fic-

Noodle didn't want to ask Y/N what was wrong, mainly because she didn't know exactly how to. She had began noticing little things here and there that we're changing about Y/N, but could never find the right words to use when asking them about it.

So, Noodle decided to help you in the only way she could think of, a movie night!

Noodle brought even more blankets to Y/N's room and set the snacks next to them.

Y/N looked at Noodle, almost asking as if it was okay for them to eat. The guitarist smiled and nodded.

After Y/N had eaten their snacks, they had fallen asleep on Noodle's lap.

#gorillaz #murdoc niccals #noodle gorillaz #russel hobbs #stuart pot #2d gorillaz #murdoc niccals x reader #2d x reader #russel hobbs x reader #noodle x reader #comfort #angst

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neonponders · 2 years

Text

Part 15 for @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse 🍝

Part 14 & art 💨

(Part 9′s art ) ( pt. 7′s art )

~ on ao3 ~

• • •

Billy watched with dubious eyes as Steve dumped the white queso into the pot. When Steve reached for the salsa jar, he outright grabbed Steve’s elbow. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“Like hell it is.”

“Tomatoes? Onions? Peppers? Same stuff that goes into a spaghetti sauce. I’m not adding a lot. This is just for spice. It’s like mixing an alfredo and a tomato sauce together to make a blush. It works, I promise.”

He lifted his elbow out of Billy’s hand, at the consequence of a skeptical grimace. Steve dropped a spoonful of salsa into the pot, and ladled some pasta water over all of it to help it melt and mix. Billy tore his eyes off of Steve’s mad science into order to watch little Steve dancing next to the salt jar, on which small Billy sat kicking his feet and eating a cheerio dipped in yogurt.

“Noodwe time. Noodwe time. Gonna eat some noodwes. Purpwe beans. Purpwe beans. Good for Biwwy’s tummy pwease.”

Despite his best effort, Billy huffed a laugh and rubbed one of his eyes. As the minutes crawled by, he slowly leaned further and further into Steve’s space to see into the pot. Admittedly, it looked like a creamy pasta sauce...plus the addition of black beans and fresh tomatoes. “Where’s the meat?”

“I haven’t been to the store in a few days,” Steve said as answer.

Billy sighed as the colander of pasta got dumped into the pot. “I’ll get groceries tomorrow. Maybe a better pantry will spawn better recipes.”

Steve stabbed a fork into the pot and held it up like an offering and threat simultaneously. “That’s a lot of talk for not knowing what you’re talking about.”

Never one to refuse a challenge, Billy took the fork and popped the egg noodles into his...mouth...

Steve watched him out of the corner of his eye with a smirk tilting his lips. He left Billy to his thoughts as he set a noodle on a dish with a couple of beans and tomato chunks for small Billy and Steve to start feasting.

With the little ones satisfied, he pulled some bowls from the cabinet and rallied Robin and Max before leaning back against the island counter. “Do I get to be told that I was right?”

Billy gestured with the fork as he declared, “No. There’s nothing right about this.”

“Uh huh. Why are you reaching for a bowl?”

“There’s a lot of shit in this world that isn’t right, but here we are.”

Steve snickered and filled his bowl last. By this time, the littles had finished their noodle, so Steve got them a wet cloth to wash their hands and opened a tube of antiseptic gel from the drawer of miscellaneous things. “Come ‘ere, lil man. Let me see your hand.”

Little Steve held up the hand that had touched glue. It looked more or less fine, if a little pinker than his other palm. Steve rubbed the thick gel on the pad of his finger and offered it out. The thin layer was enough to transfer an adequate amount to the tiny hand. “Let that sink into your skin, okay?”

“Wike wotion?”

“Yep, just like lotion.”

“Mmkay. Thank you, Stevie. Big Biwwy?”

He looked up with cheeks guiltily full of pasta. “Hm?”

“Can I west in your pocket? I’m sweepy and you’rwe warm.”

He swallowed thickly and held out his hand. Once slotted into Billy’s breast pocket, Steve stood up and called, “Biwwy? Are you okay?”

Little Billy yawned and rubbed his eyes. “I’m sweepy too.”

Big Steve offered his hand and the little one stepped onto it. He reached for their bedroom as he asked, “Do you want to sleep with a view?”

“No. The sky’s wonely without Stevie to see it with me. Pocket?”

“Sure.” And Billy gratefully nestled inside Steve’s shirt pocket.

They still ate outside, though, since it was a refreshing night and the cooler air would help the littles from getting too stuffy in the pockets. Billy peered at Steve when he took the lounge chair next to him. At the look on his face, Steve explained, “Listen, mini me might like sleeping in your boob, but if he wakes up and mini you isn’t nearby, my ear drums will never recover.”

Billy’s chuckle came from deep in his chest, causing Steve’s eyes to soften as he tried to focus on his dinner. “Are you really making a grocery run or was that just hot air?”

Billy swallowed and confirmed, “I get paid after my shift. This time tomorrow, I’ll be wandering the aisles anyway. It’s never a dull evening at the store.”

“The scaries come out at night.”

Robin warned, “Outcasts usually have a valid reason for keeping to themselves during the day.”

Billy sassed, “How tolerant, Buckley.”

She smiled. “So you’re one of them? That’s nice.”

Max barely contained her mirth at the sight of her brother’s annoyed face. He soon deflected, “Sometimes it’s a party in there. Like everyone in town finished their shifts at the same time. Usually it’s peaceful.”

Robin suggested, “The little guys might like to go with you. Or Steve could meet you there with them. They’re gonna get bored eventually, only seeing the house and video store all the time.”

Steve agreed, with the caveat, “Either you or Max needs to teach them how to ride those toy bikes. We gotta tucker ‘em out before adventures.”

“Why not the skateboard?” Max asked.

It was Billy who responded, “Let’s give him an easy day after a hard one.”

She blinked softly, seeming to think over that before she nodded and kept eating. Robin, meanwhile, announced, “We could have our first conversation without the little monsters. So, Hargrove: top three movies. Go.”

“Aliens, Rocky, and...maybe Animal House or The Birds.”

“The Birds?” Steve wondered aloud. “That’s different.”

“My mom liked Hitchcock, theater, and Marilyn Monroe. Don’t ask me about Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.”

Steve grinned around chewing while Robin admitted, “I expected you to say Jaws.”

He shook his head and his tone had gravel in it. “Surfers know more about sharks than anyone who watches that shit movie.”

Robin turned to Max to answer her own favorite movies. “Probably...Aliens, Halloween, and Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”

That got a snort from Billy, and her snapping, “It’s better than Animal House.”

Robin hushed, “Settle, siblings, settle. You’re dangerously close to having the same taste in movies. We could show the littles the Chocolate Factory, but we’d have to get the hell out of there before the river boat scene.”

Silence eclipsed the conversation as they each mulled over that, and the quiet snores from two pockets made them break the silence with laughter. Billy admitted, “I guess we’ve dealt with nightmares once already.”

All things considered, a bad afternoon turned into a pleasant night.

The time came for Billy and Max to leave, so they predictably dumped their dishes in the kitchen sink for someone else to clean up, and headed out. Steve and Robin looked at the stack of dishes and the latter realized Steve was staring at her. “What? Oh, just because you cooked, I have to clean?”

“Yeah. It’s called playing fair.”

She rolled her eyes but turned the faucet on. Steve reached into his pocket and carefully scooped up little Billy to tuck him into his shoebox bed...

Little Steve wasn’t in the other bed.

“Oh, shit! ”

“Steve?” Robin called, but he was already sprinting out of the house.

The Camaro rumbled in the driveway, far enough out of the Harringtons’ driveway that Billy had already reversed onto the street the car purred into a roar as he shifted gears and -

“BILLY! WAIT!”

He frowned and looked in his rearview mirror. Moving the stick into park, Billy rolled his window all the way down as Steve ran up to them. “You’re extremely lucky I didn’t have my music on. What’s the matter with you?”

Steve exhaled raggedly with his hands on the windowsill. “Me. In your pocket. Steve’s in your pocket.”

That wiped Billy’s features of any annoyance or humor at Steve’s expense. Sure enough, he pulled the hem of his pocket out, and little Steve rolled with the fabric movement. He was so deep in sleep that his jaw hung open. “This little guy is out.”

“Please give him back.”

“Well, come in here and get him.”

Just like Billy, Steve didn’t refuse a challenge. He reached right into Billy’s car and pocket, gently rubbing small Steve’s arm to warn him through the layers of sleep that change was coming. Then he carefully scooped him out, eliciting a groggy whine, but nothing else.

As Steve’s fingernails scratched the fabric of his shirt, Billy chided, “Hey, there’s a nipple under there.”

“You’re welcome,” he teased, but otherwise busied himself with securing small Steve in the cradle of his hands. “Thanks. He sorta means a lot to me. They both do.”

It was hard to say whether Billy nodded or shifted his weight, and his head simply bobbed with the movement. But he agreed, “He’s a good little guy. Even my high maintenance mini me.”

Steve smiled, “He’s all right. He’s brave, even by regular sized standards. He’s ready to fight god half the time.”

But Billy blinked softly up at him. “And the other half of the time?”

Perhaps to both of their surprise, Steve shrugged like it was no big deal. “He’s sweet. And kind of scary observant. It’s easy to forget that they’re new to the world because of how much B picks up. Oh, and I get off work at ten tomorrow, unless that’s too late for you?”

Billy sniffed and his eyes strayed back to the road. “It’s fine.”

“Will you be home already? I can pick you - ”

“Just don’t make me wait at the store,” Billy finished. A rev of the engine was the only other warning Steve got, then he stepped back, and watching the Camaro drive down the street and turn out of sight at the stop sign.

In the car, Max said bluntly, “Gross.”

“There’s nothing to discuss, Maxine. So long as you understand.”

“I understand,” she disregarded his threat. “I’m not bothered by it being Steve. It’s just gross that anyone likes you.”

“It’s not a good idea for little girls to walk home in the dark.”

“It sure isn’t,” she called his bluff, and turned the radio onto his favorite station.

#i give you *chef's kiss* americana-wtf-cuisine #i've actually made this and it's good #harringrove #wrecked-fuse #neonponders #pocketverse #pocket!au #like magnets

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thomase1 · 2 years

Text

Two broken make a whole; chapter 3

Series Masterlist Full Masterlist

Its about food again. So get yourself a snack! 🫣

Did I write this while cooking? Yes. Did I burn my onions and garlic? Maybe.

Also, is this Y/n a little more like me than I'd hoped? Who knows. 👀

Warnings: angst, others heartbreak. Kind of boring chapter but the plot develops slowly.

Wordcount: ~2500

Deviders by @harlequin-hangout

Finally, that's over.

After a nearly two week long mission of you being on the move constantly, trying to track down a freaky new organization threatening havoc on all of humankind, you finally come back home. You are exhausted to say the least.

Sleep has been scarce. If you were lucky you got 4 hours before you had to proceed with your pursuit. And when you had the luck to sleep, you had to do so in your car seat since taking a room wasn't an option, being on the move constantly. You also only ate junk food, mostly snacks. Sometimes you'd stop at a random drive through.

You missed the others incredibly, but not as much as your bed and a full 8 hours of sleep.

On your way home you had made your plans for the next day. Greeting everybody, making a nice hearty homemade meal and retreating to your room, watching some movies or just sleeping. Throwing yourself in your sweat pants, an oversized shirt, your fuzzy robe and fuzzy socks. Snuggling into your bed. That is the plan and you won't let anybody or anything interrupt.

Finally you reach the living quarters in the Tower.

They know you are coming back today, since you told Jarvis to announce it, which gave everybody a notification. The elevator opens and you walk in the common room, plopping down your heavy duffle bag. "I'm home.", you mumble quietly, more to yourself. Nobody is there, it makes you kind of sad, not gonna lie.

It's a call from reality, that even though you tell everybody, including yourself you're fine, you are in fact lonely.

And this moment symbolizes it, coming back from a long mission and nobody is there to greet you.

But oh well, you are with the Avengers and something always requires your attention, can't be mad at them. "Jarvis, where is everybody?", you ask the AI. "Doctor Banner is working in his laboratory. Agent Barton is home with his family. Mister Laufeyson is in his living quarters. Mister Odinson, Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff are out on a mission. They should come back shortly. Mister Stark is in a conference. Do you have any other questions?" It takes you a second to connect all these infos.

"No, that was it, thank you."

You knew of the mission Thor, Steve and Nat are at right now since it is connected to your undercover observation. Its saturday so it was pretty expectable for Clint to be home if he is free. Tony being in a conference is the usual, he is doing more press and bureaucracy than actual missions lately. Bruce working is to be expected as well as Loki being in his room.

Oh well.

You shrug and decide to pursue your plan for the day, walking into the kitchen. You open the fridge and observe which ingredients are available, deciding on a simple chicken noodle soup, figuring that is the definition of a hardy comfort food. You chop all the veggies and boil the water on the side. It doesn't take long until you have all the ingredients in the pot and the noodles are cooking.

While it simmers you jump onto the counter and scroll your phone. The others are finished with their mission, Nat texted you. Cap won't come to the tower today, but Thor and Nat will be back in about two hours. That makes you really happy since you are pretty close to them. Thor loves your cooking, it just feels nice, being able to cook for the others, like for a family.

Plus he eats a lot and the others aren't complaining about food either, which means there is never the danger of you making too much.

And Nat, well, she is your mentor, close friend and like an older sister all at once. Sadly she isn't home that often. After she and Bruce broke up, they both started to avoid gatherings. It's a shame, they were really cute together but it was just not meant to be.

Nat goes for rides on her bike every day, goes on hikes, joggs in the park, sometimes even goes camping... Just anything outside and away from the tower, from Bruce.

'You shouldn't run away from your problems Y/n, I tried it and I must report, they are always faster than you.', she used to tell you when you first arrived. But it seems she cannot take her own advice.

You text a bit with her, asking if it all went well. Since their mission is connected to yours, you are pretty interested in it all. The group is called 'Serpent', apparently a branch from Hydra. She tells you it went pretty well but that they are exhausted, well at least she is. The other two, being a super soldier and a god, could have kept going.

Sometimes it's really unfair to be surrounded by so many super humans, mutants and even gods. You just cannot keep up with them. Clint, Nat and you are always the ones that wind up in the medwing. If the others do, you know it must have been bad.

After some time you check up on the food and decide it's ready.

Getting yourself a plate you sit down at the kitchen island. You humm tasting your creation, just how you wanted it. So you sit there with your phone watching some funny videos and eat. Well, after some time you fall down a rabbit hole and totally forget eating. Damn the internet being so addictive.

You feel somebody walking past you and nearly fall off the bar stool.

"I smelled food.", Loki states flatly as he watches you in amusement, trying to steady yourself again. "Yea, I made some chicken noodle soup, have some if you want.", you explain, pausing the video, looking back at him. He plates himself some and sits down next to you at the island.

With your heart thundering against your chest, you look over to him. You notice small details about him you haven't discovered just yet. Like how silky his hair looks from up close and how each hair is curled in its own way. Or the small pinpoint scars around his lips. You are really curious about them, but decide not to ask such a question the first time you see him out his room.

He tries the first spoon full a little wary, then his eyes jump down to look at his bowl. He takes a second spoonful and the corner of his lips twitch up ever so slightly. You smirk to yourself knowing he likes it, even if he won't admit it, seeing his reaction is enough to be proud of yourself.

Continuing to eat you think about the last few weeks; you rarely ever saw Loki eat. Is he too proud or did nobody tell him there won't be people cooking for him? "I bet it isn't easy to live without maids and staff all of a sudden?"

He scowls at you, slowly laying down his spoon.

You sigh, "I didn't mean it like that.".

Why must you always mess up at moments like these? You really just wanted to have a conversation with him, you are teammates after all, you should at least be able to talk to another.

Your appetite vanishes. You get up and clean your bowl, sensing his eyes glaring daggers at your back. Feeling a need to flee this situation, you decide to bring Bruce a bowl of soup. Two birds with one stone.

You take a bowl full and grab your phone from the counter, seeing Loki give you a suspicious side eye. "I'm sorry. I didn't think that question through.", you mumble, leaving the room.

Very mature, you think to yourself, fleeing like a coward.

Out of there, you take a deep breath. Get a grip Y/n.

After the fiasco with Loki you went to Bruce and brought him the soup. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't even hear Jarvis announce to you entering the lab. Only when you slid the bowl into his line of vision did he snap out of his own mind.

"Oh god, thank you Y/n. You shouldn't have, that's too nice of you.", Bruce looks at you with those innocent deer eyes of his. You almost pull a pout at how adorable he is.

"Please... did you even eat anything yet?", you ask him sternly. "What time is it?"

You look at your phone, "Quarter to 5.". He hisses, you narrow your eyes, "Bruce?". "Yea I haven't eaten since, well, since yesterday actually.", he stammered. You sigh, "I couldn't say I was surprised. I haven't seen you out of here since the space royalty arrived. I think even a fire wouldn't get you out of here!". He ruffles his hair, closing his eyes, "You're right, it's just... It's been a couple of rough weeks.".

You pat his shoulder in sympathy, pulling a chair for him to sit, "I know, it's been for both of you, but you can't hide in here for all eternity. Now sit down and eat the soup while it's still warm.". He sits down and smiles at the taste, "This is delicious. Thank you, truly. I think I would have starved already if it wasn't for your kind heart.".

"You could do one thing for me then."

"Yes?"

"Live a little. Go walk in the park, take a vacation or get a new hobby. But please, just leave this lab for a while, the whole tower at best."

He pauses and looks at you, smiling sadly, "I will try."

"And for god's sake, sleep. Please. You have whole universes of circles under your eyes.", you snort in gallows humor.

"But I can't. Everytime I do I just dream of her. How it could have been..."

"Bruce I swear on all I've got, I will tell Jar to shut out your power at exactly midnight if I have to. You're a doctor, you know well enough that sleep isn't something you can just not do."

He sighs, "Of course you're right. It's just-"

"No! I know it all sucks a lot right now but you will sleep tonight! No if's or but's!", you order.

"Yes ma'am.", he looks at you like a kid that just got grounded. "Why do I have to act like a mother for so many of earth's mightiest heroes?", you ask yourself out loud, earning a chuckle from Bruce. Well at least he can laugh again.

After some time, Bruce noticed how exhausted he was. Short attention span, how hard it was to have any actual interest in his work and how heavy his limbs feel. He decided to take an Ambien, figuring what helped Tony with his insomnia and nightmares would surely work for him too.

You stayed with him for a while and listened to his struggles and internal battles. Also about work of course.

About an hour later Jarvis announced the return of Thor and Nat which is why Bruce urged you to go meet them. Naturally you asked him to come along but he just isn't quite there yet. Nat probably isn't ready for it either.

Back in the living room, you find a defeated Nat in a puddle on the sofa. Well, almost in a puddle but she definitely looks finished.

Thor however walks around the room, blaring his triumph and raiding the kitchen cabinets.

"You could just eat some soup, you know. I made it this afternoon." He turns around and opens his arms, "Y/n! How are you doing this fine day?" You walk over accepting his embrace, squeaking at how tightly he hugs you.

You talk about your day as they eat some soup when the mishap with Loki comes up. "I just didn't think it through. I shouldn't have asked him that. I said sorry but I don't think he cared for it.", you sigh heavily. Nat shakes her head, "Oh just let him stay mad, he will get over it.". "I don't know the way I fled the scene... It was not very mature.", you remember, ashamed. "Well, he probably didn't thank you for the soup either, did he? Just give him some time, I think you two will get along at some point."

"You must forgive my brother, he has had a hard time. It was never easy for him in new environments, especially not here.", Thor explains. Nat nods in understanding, "Yea, I bet he isn't too stoked about staying with the people he tried to kill and that tried to kill him. I wouldn't trust us either." Thor nods hesitantly, "You're right, but it's not just that. He takes a long time to trust. It lies in past experiences." You knit your brows, "What do you mean by that?"

"I fear I said too much already, it really is not my place to tell. If you want to find out, you must ask him.", he puts down his empty bowl on the table, crossing his arms.

Now you are just more confused, but also twice as intrigued. The only thing left to do is befriend him. One could call that task mission impossible. Getting the god of mischief with godly trust issues to trust you, an ally of his past enemies... It could prove to be a challenge, but you are up for one.

A bit of work talk turned into personal talk. Thor talked about his once again relationship with his beloved Jane. It's a wonder his eyes didn't become heart-shaped.

Nat talked about new additions to her bike and about a beautiful mountain she camped on a few days ago.

And you talked about past pranks the chaos four, Clint, Scott, Sam and you, pulled. Mostly on Tony. It's just too fun to mess with him since he won't punish anybody.

You made the grave mistake to doodle on Caps shield once and you paid the price in 5 am jogging. For two weeks straight, mission or day off, it did not matter. You wont make that mistake again.

Pranks and missions are pretty much the only things you can talk about. There just... isn't anything else to talk about, since you don't have too many friends, outside of work.

You parted around midnight, exhaustion hitting Nat and you like a truck.

The last thing on your mind before falling asleep was;

Loki Laufeyson, I will crack your shell. Even if it takes me a lifetime.

Tags for tbmaw: @fictive-sl0th @vbecker10 @fictional-hooman @mischief2manage @maple-seed @mochie85 @holdmytesseract @theaudacitytowrite @gigglingtigger @marygoddessofmischief @goblingirlsarah @oceandeepthirst @lokisgoodgirl @fallenlostarchives @kalinaselennespeaks @sid-prescottx @assemblingavenger @loki-n-hvitserk @crzyplantladyvibes

Everything: @slytherclaw1227 @their-love @vickie5446 @buttercupcookies-blog @peaches1958

And my wifey @plushcrushdoll :D 💜

#loki laufeyson #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki god of mischief #avenger reader #tbmaw #avenger loki

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disastermages · 2 years

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I told @serkonans to throw me a mingli idea and he did, I just decided to follow the directions backwards

Nie Mingjue has to squint hard to read his mother’s faded writing. He wishes that he’d had the forethought to preserve the slip of paper better, that he’d been old enough to know that no matter how much Huaisang’s mother tried to recreate the recipe, that it would never taste the same. And she did try, every time he or Huaisang got sick, even if she followed the paper ingredient by ingredient and step by step.

It wasn’t the same.

Qinghe’s rainy season had come, fast and ready to chill anyone down to the bone, but so far, only Jiang Yanli had fallen sick. Her father complained of headaches and aching bones, but Nie Mingjue had watched as Jiang Yanli’s face turned paler and paler beneath her makeup while her nose only turned pinker and pinker. Nie Mingjue can’t help but feel responsible, he was the one who accidentally let one of the agreements with Yunmeng Jiang go unrenewed. He was the reason Jiang Fengmian had brought his daughter all the way to the Unclean Realm.

“Only two chiles?” Nie Mingjue mumbles to himself and squints harder at the paper in front of him. His mother had undoubtedly adjusted the recipe for his tastes but… Nie Mingjue has eaten in Lotus Pier before, and he only looks over his shoulder once before he throws in four more. Jiang Yanli will feel better if she sweats out her fever, right?

He tries hard not to imagine how she’ll react to the soup, she might not even be able to taste it, but Nie Mingjue can’t help it. He wants her to like it. Nie Mingjue wants Jiang Yanli to like the soup that’s only been made a handful of times since his mother died. He wants her to like how he makes it.

Nie Mingjue peels the garlic and the ginger clumsily, but he shaves the meat into thin strips well, and he’d already been shooed away from the task of pulling the noodles by the auntie who usually makes them. The soup is ready long before Nie Mingjue is, but he still pushes forward, he still loads a tray with a bowl of soup and a pot of tea before he starts to walk through the halls to Jiang Yanli’s guest room.

He makes a point of not looking at anyone as he passes them, but he still hears the whispers.

Nie Mingjue has already decided not to care.

“Lady Jiang, are you awake?” He taps the door as gently as he can, not wanting to wake her if she’s not already awake, he’s almost ready to walk away and shove the soup at his brother when Jiang Yanli’s door opens and Jiang Fengmian stands in front of him. Nie Mingjue doesn’t know why he suddenly wants to run away, he only knows that his throat tightens while Jiang Fengmian looks between him and the try in his hands before he smiles.

Jiang Fengmian could just take the tray from him and close the door in his face and Nie Mingjue would force himself to be fine with it. What father would allow a man to be alone with his daughter? “A-Li, Sect Leader Nie has come to see you.”

There isn’t an ounce of warning before Jiang Fengmian dips his head and walks away, leaving Nie Mingjue to stare after him.

Did he crouch down to adjust the fire and hit his head on a heavy cast iron handle? Did Old Auntie Huang in the kitchen finally get tired of watching him struggle with seasonings and put him out of his misery?

Before Nie Mingjue can stand in wonder for too much longer, Jiang Yanli’s voice is ringing softly in his ears, “Sect Leader Nie? Did you need something?”

Jiang Yanli is still sick, but her color is better, or maybe it’s the same and Nie Mingjue thinks that she’s too pretty for him to tell.

“I thought you might feel better if you ate this.” Nie Mingjue holds the tray out to Jiang Yanli even as he thinks about kicking himself. There had to have been a better way to say it, there must have been, but Jiang Yanli still smiles, and she looks even prettier, though still too pale and sickly. She could just take it from him and thank him, and part of Nie Mingjue wishes that she would, but another, more selfish part of himself jumps on the chance when Jiang Yanli steps aside to let him into her room.

Jiang Yanli keeps back from him because she doesn’t want to get him sick, but they still sit down together, with Nie Mingjue across from her and trying not to watch for her reaction as she lifts the first spoonful of broth to her lips. Jiang Yanli’s glassy, tired eyes brighten as she glances up at him, a smile blooming across her face.

“Is it good?” Nie Mingjue asks, unable to look away as she stirs the soup and takes a bigger bite. It has to be a good sign, right? “I followed the recipe as well as I could.”

“Sect Leader Nie made this himself?” Jiang Yanli covers her mouth as her cheeks pinken and she makes a point to chew slower, seeming to remember herself all too quickly. “I’m sorry that you went to such trouble for my sake, but it really is delicious. The broth is so rich and the beef is tender, I didn’t know that you could cook so well.” Jiang Yanli takes small, measured spoonfuls now, but Nie Mingjue smiles before he can help himself, ducking his head quickly.

“When I was small and got sick, my mother used to make this stew for me.” It feels like a confession, thick and heavy on his tongue, “I thought that eating it might help Lady Jiang feel better.” Heat spreads across the back of Nie Mingjue’s neck, he doesn’t get the chance to stop Jiang Yanli from pouring tea for the both of them.

“No one has cooked for me in a very long time.” Jiang Yanli says, a confession of her own passing her lips as she sets the teapot down, Nie Mingjue watches her like a man entranced. The tea is bitter, and astringent, like most medicine, and they both set it down after the first sip, Jiang Yanli’s nose crinkling.

“Not even your brothers?” Nie Mingjue only asks because he knows he has to, because he doesn’t want Jiang Yanli to stop talking, but his question makes Jiang Yanli’s smile turn fond and warm as she shakes her head.

“I tried very hard to teach both of them for a very long time, but neither of them have the patience for it.” Jiang Yanli stirs the noodles through the broth before she takes a few of them up on her chopsticks, “Whoever Sect Leader Nie marries will be very lucky.”

From anyone else, that would be a dismissal, but there’s something in the way Jiang Yanli’s eyes linger on him that tells Nie Mingjue that it’s anything but.

“Lady Jiang will have to marry someone who will cook for her the way she cooks for them.”

Nie Mingjue downs the rest of his cup of bitter, astringent, medicinal tea to ground himself, but Jiang Yanli is still smiling at him, even after she’s finished her soup.

#mingli #jueli #nie mingjue #jiang yanli #nmj #jyl #me and ash were talking about nmj and both agreed that he can appreciate soups but hes also a stew guy

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letsbenditlikebennett · 1 year

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TIMING: Before the July full moon PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: As a late birthday surprise, Alex attempts to make lasagna for Kaden. He happens to get home early in the bit of a cooking mayhem and the two bond. CONTENT: Parental death mentions

While the pie she made to surprise Kaden wasn’t exactly the prettiest thing in the world, it was passable. Alex was thankful that her new cooking buddy was able to help her salvage the crust enough for it to look presentable, but something told her Kaden wasn’t exactly a pie for dinner kind of guy. A can of ravioli wasn’t going to do, mostly since her cousin seemed shocked that she and Andy ate so much food straight from cans. Lasagna seemed like it should be easy enough and she’d nicked some extra ingredients while she was shopping just in case she messed it up.

In truth, she was hoping Andy would have been home by now. While Alex never fully learned how to cook and was too busy throwing herself into her studies as if it’d somehow make her less of a monster, Andy had worked several restaurant jobs to keep them afloat in the past and worked in a bakery now. She’d even managed some pretty banging cakes for birthdays though they still always shared packaged snack cakes on top of it for the sake of their own little tradition. But Andy must have been caught up at work which meant she had to rely on her own cooking prowess without supervision from someone who knew what they were doing which led to her completely overcooking the noodles for the lasagna. Good thing she’d taken a few extra boxes, but now the shoddy smoke detector was going off and the water she was preparing for the next batch of noodles was boiling over the pot.

Alex frantically waved a kitchen towel around the smoke detector to no avail and the sound was quickly becoming overwhelming. Tears threatened to spill over as she opened up a window and went for the door, only to open it to see Kaden about to open it. Her eyes widened, something akin to a deer in the headlights or a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. At least the fucking fire alarm finally stopped, but now she was standing in the doorway looking like a complete idiot who couldn’t even put together an apparently “easy” recipe. “I thought Andy would be home before you,” she blurted out before she fully realized that sounded like she didn’t want him here. “That’s not what I–,” she moved out of the way to let him in, “I wanted to surprise you since we missed your birthday.”

Kaden rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm as he stepped out of his truck. Between chasing a dog around the Common and trying to explain to Marge why they shouldn’t put a jackalope up for adoption, he was ready to sink into the couch and relax for a few min–

The smoke alarm blared, buzzing so loudly he heard it from outside the door. He didn’t think, just ran, nearly bursting down the door. In hindsight, maybe not the smartest idea to run into a potentially burning building, but if Alex or Andy were inside and the place was on fire, he had to get them out. He had to be sure that they were safe. Kaden saw small puffs of smoke escaping from under the kitchen door. He put his arm up to his face to cover his mouth and nose and reached for the doorknob with his free hand, ready to face whatever was on the other–

The door swung open and there was Alex, the clouds of smoke wisping away at her feet as if they’d never been there. “Oh.” It was all he could manage to say as he dropped his arm away from his face, feeling a little silly that he’d overreacted. None of the words she said fully registered yet; Kaden was still stuck standing in place, trying to rectify what he’d imagined was happening and what was actually going on.

She was in the kitchen. The smoke alarm had gone off. Something smelled like it was burning and there was a pot on the stove. A pot that was boiling over. “Putain,” he mumbled as he darted past Alex to the stovetop, flipping the dial all the way down and doing his best to try and contain the bubbles spilling over by waving his hands and blowing at the angry pot. Only once it had settled did he manage to process what Alex had told him. “My shift ended on time for once.” Also he hadn’t stayed late at the shelter helping out well past the point that he’d clocked out. And that was only because Marge practically shoved him out the door.

“Wait,” he said, brow furrowing as he registered the last part of what his cousin had said. “For my birthday?” Kaden blinked, looking around the mess of a kitchen. This was for him? She wanted to do something for him? He… wasn’t sure what to make of that. Some mixture of confusion and warmth swirled around inside him. “I didn’t expect anything or– I mean, you didn’t have to. Not that…” He sighed and reached to rub the back of his neck. “Thanks. But I’m… So this is all for me?”

This wasn’t how the evening was supposed to turn out, but surprising no one, even when it came to stuff in the kitchen, Kaden and Andy both had her beat. It made Alex feel like a kid all over again– trying and trying only to fall short at every turn. The fact this was something as basic as cooking only furthered the embarrassment she felt as her cousin rushed to the stove and turned it down to an appropriate temperature so that the water stopped bubbling and overflowing all over the place. The way he waved away the steam seemed practiced, came effortlessly, and just once, she wished anything had come that simply for her. She swallowed back the lump in her throat and nodded. “That’s good, uh…,” she trailed off as she figured out what to see, “The getting off on time and all. I think. Right?”

Without Andy to fall back on, Alex felt exposed. Somehow her sister always knew just what to say to lighten the mood and she desperately wished some of that energy was present now. She was embarrassed for starters about the mess in the kitchen, but something about the gesture made her feel just as vulnerable. The whole point was for Kaden to know he had people who gave a shit about him, but being the lone person in the room, it said that she was the one who cared and that left room for disappointment, room for Kaden to realize he didn’t need his monster of a cousin around.

Alex still shifted on her feet, but managed to fight the nervous lilt in her voice. “Yeah, your birthday,” she answered, “I know it’s late, but figured belated is better than never?” At least he seemed about as comfortable with the situation outwardly as she was inwardly. A fact she forced herself to not think too deeply about. “Oh, I know I didn’t, but…” She looked to the mess in the kitchen and fidgeted with the hem of the apron she was wearing, “I don’t know, family and all.”

The part that he was a part of her family that didn’t seemingly immediately reject her went unsaid. Alex couldn’t help but feel like that could change at any moment despite the fact Kaden had given her no such indication. So she smiled, wide and with enough of a playful arch in her brow that it masked the world of insecurities it was meant to hide. “The pie I made in a cooking class, so that’s already done and edible. Lasagna is giving me a bit of a tough time though,” she picked up a towel to soak up some of the boiled over water, “I’m not opposed to pie for dinner, but do you think we can salvage the lasagna? I have more noodles. If not, I can just pick up a pizza or something. Know you just got off work and all.” The rambling probably counteracted the fake smile, but it was a bit late to take the words back.

“It’s good for you,” Kaden said with a smirk. “Otherwise you might have caught the cabin on fire.” The tension lingered like the smoke in the room. It was pretty clear she was embarrassed and hadn’t expected him. And he had run in to save the day only to charge in on some crimes against cooking. Once the water had simmered down, Kaden turned to lean against the counter next to the stove, crossing his arms in front of his chest

As she spoke, the confusion shifted into a smile, though he did his best to hold it back. It was stupid to feel whatever it was he was feeling about his dumb birthday of all things. That had passed a while ago. And he was thirty-three, not three, birthdays didn’t mean a whole lot anymore. Still, the warm, fuzzy feelings didn’t just dissipate because he thought it was ridiculous for him to care this much about a small celebration for him. Then again, maybe it wasn’t about the birthday or him but more about who was doing it. “Yeah, family,” he said, still trying to keep the smile from getting goofy.

He felt a little more secure about his place there after speaking with Andy the other day but he wasn’t completely sure where he stood with Alex. When they had last known each other, she was so young. Everything was completely different in so many ways. “A cooking class, huh?” he asked, raising one brow. “You sure you need me? What did they teach you, then?” He reached over to give her a small nudge.

A jolt ran through him, starting at his fingertips. He spent so much time with his hunter senses screaming at him while he was in the cabin that it had gotten easier to ignore. He could almost forget. Almost. Apparently his body wouldn’t let him forget what it was made to do. His stomach lurched at the thought. Kaden shook it off and glanced over at the state of the lasagna, if it could be called that. “I think we can manage. Shouldn’t have to resort to the pizza just yet.” He flashed her a smile before he grabbed a towel, taking the pot by the handles and dumping the water and the murdered noodles into the sink. “We’ll rinse these out and just fill them up less than you did last time. What’d you plan to do for sauce?”

Something in the teasing slowed the frenzy of thoughts that had been threatening to boil over just like the pot of noodles had only moments ago. It was still hard for Alex to wrap her head around, that Kaden could be so seemingly okay with what she was and seem to hold genuine affection for her despite it. The more time they spent together, the more his consistent care seemed to chip away at the idea that she was something to be disgusted with.

“Haha,” she retorted sarcastically, “That’s obviously what renter’s insurance is for.” Not that Alex and Andy had renter’s insurance. From a young age, she had so intently trained herself to be in tune with others' mannerisms that the faint outline of a smile on Kaden’s face didn’t go unnoticed. It was a habit born of desperation in order to fake the senses she had so hopelessly wanted, but somewhere along the line, it became an armor that allowed herself to see and remove herself from situations before she could be discarded. But at that moment? It felt like a silk scarf– soft yet strong enough to shield herself from the chill the wind of her own thoughts always threatened to carry with it. More than anything, she wanted to wrap herself in that feeling, but the questions that lived at the tip of her tongue made her hesitant.

“Yeah,” she smiled, “A cooking class. It was only the one and I only learned how to make the pie. But figured pie isn’t exactly ‘dinner’ or whatever.” She watched as he refilled the pot, this time with less water which Alex made note of. “So mostly how to make the crust and filling,” she added.

With his questions about the sauce, Alex scurried over to the little array of paper bowls filled with various ingredients and started explaining the recipe almost verbatim to what it was on the website she’d gotten it from. “I’ve got 25 oz of onions roughly chopped here and then this bowl has the salt and pepper flakes already measured. Supposed to put the saucepan on medium high heat with a quarter cup of olive oil,” she grabbed the pot and brought it to the stove, “Then we have to caramelize the onions before throwing in the garlic I chopped. Once that starts to become ‘aromatic’ we’re supposed to throw in the sugar.” Her hands moved quickly, pointing out every ingredient she listed as she spoke. “Have the water measured already since the sugar step is supposed to be short so it doesn’t all burn. Pour in the water I already measured and the herb mix. Recipe stresses making sure caramelized onions and garlic are fully scraped from the bottom. Then once it comes to a boil, add the tomato paste and emulsion blend.”

There was a hint of pride in how accurately she was able to repeat the recipe. It almost made her feel a little less stupid for burning the first batch of noodles. Almost. And maybe those were just a sticking point, but Alex wasn’t sure she could do uncertainty anymore. She shifted on her feet as she watched the oil, willing it to heat up faster so she could quickly brush past the thoughts of the questions she had about why Kaden was here and why he was okay to live with a werewolf. If she never asked, she’d never have to hear the answer that would inevitably crush any growing hope that lived inside her. The lie that he could love and care for her despite the fact she was a monster was a pretty one— one she wanted to be able to cling to, but doubt left her hands far too slippery to get a proper grip. Against her better judgments, the ones screaming at her to drop it, she blurted out, “Can I ask you something?”

Kaden was almost blown back by how succinctly she rattled off the ingredients and instructions for the sauce. For as much as he cooked, he wasn’t sure he could list each step quite that fast. “I see someone memorized the recipe,” he said, flashing her a smile. “We should be able to do a lot of it to taste, thankfully.” Which is what he planned to do, for the most part. He grabbed the saucepan and some olive oil and began to get to work on the onions and garlic. It would take a little while, no doubt, but it should be worth it. “Remember when you put the pasta in to do it carefully. One at a time,” he told her as she started to get the water going for their second try.

His eyes were trained on the onions in the pan, pushing them back and forth as needed, watching the process of the heat changing their shape and color. For as simple as it seemed, he had a feeling a lot of complex shit was happening scientifically speaking. It was almost funny that a basic part of cooking, an almost obvious first step, had so much happening at a more granular level. Then again, he was learning that most things were more complicated than they appeared to be at first glance. Like the entire scenario in that kitchen. At first glance, it was just cousins cooking together, but under the surface… No, Kaden didn’t care about that. The hunter and werewolf of it all didn’t matter. This was just normal. Family. Nothing more.

His eyes shot up to meet Alex’s at her question. He could only guess was she was going to ask – there were too many things unanswered for him to narrow it down. Kaden wasn’t even sure he had anything to hide or run away from, but he was going to find out here and now, trapped in the kitchen of the cabin. “Sure, ask away.”

In an effort to make sure everything turned out perfectly, Alex had in fact memorized the recipe. She studied it repeatedly until she could remember each step by heart, but Kaden moved in the kitchen in a way that was practiced. Something almost natural about it and some bitter voice in the back of her mind reminded her she’d never been a natural at anything, all she ever did was try. But he was smiling and seemed more amused by the previous kitchen fiasco she found herself in. Despite searching for it, she didn’t find the hint of annoyance or disappointment etched in the furrow of his brow or clenching of his jaw. Just an easy smile, like there was no place else he’d rather be. “You caught me,” she smiled, almost fully feeling it, “You can expect my thesis on your… coffee table by 8am tomorrow.” Her eyes trailed over to the surprisingly organized coffee table. There were little signs of Kaden everywhere in the shared spaces now and despite the lack of space in the cabin itself, all of it seemed to flow together.

All of the evidence pointed to Kaden wanting to be there— wanting to be part of her life. If she wanted to let herself fall into that feeling, let someone besides Andy become woven into the mismatched tapestry that was her life, she had to hear it from him. His being receptive to answering her questions somehow calmed her and scared her at the same time. Now that she had his permission to ask, her voice found itself lodged in her throat as if trying to cling to the suspension between either her best or worst thoughts of the situation both being true. Schrodinger’s cat, she thought. Until she opened the stupid box, which in this case happened to be her damn mouth, Kaden both loved her and was disgusted with her. Damn paradoxes.

“Why did you come here,” she finally asked as she dropped the first noodle into the pot, “Why now?” Because what better place to start than, well, the start.

Kaden huffed a laugh at her comment. “I would say I have a desk at work but, uh, well, not really. Usually at the shelter or in my truck and I don’t have a desk at either.” It was funny how easily he’d managed to slot himself into their lives. He was careful not to overstep, of course, doing his best to weave out of the way when he could and offer a helping hand as often as possible. So much of him assumed he didn’t deserve the kindness, that they were just being polite rather than actually wanting him around. After he talked with Andy, though, it had changed. At least a little. He felt like his presence was actually wanted, at least a little. Which was more than he could have asked for.

Still, he wasn’t ready for what came next. He’d told Andy why he was here though he hadn’t planned to tell her like that. Telling her was one thing. Telling Alex was another. He felt the air slowly leaving the room as he sat the spatula down on the counter and took a step away from the stove. It should be a simple question with a simple answer. Why did he come here? And why now?

And yet, not one damn thing about it was simple. Kaden did his best to hold the oxygen he could grasp in his lungs for as long as they would let him, finding a spot on the counter to lean against, to keep himself steady. The scene that plagued his nightmares played over in his head for the thousandth time. Knife. Damien. Keira. Blood. How did he tell this to Alex without burdening her? And without breaking down himself?

Breathe. He had to fucking breathe. Why was it so damn hard to do that at the moment? “I had to…” he started, but drifted off before he could find the next words. It didn’t feel right. “I couldn’t stay there.” He tried again, but it still seemed wrong. He went to look at his cousin but thought better of it; he couldn’t meet Alex’s eyes, not now. He knew he’d only see Damien’s there, somehow reflecting back at him. ‘Keira, she—“ He swallowed, trying to pull in air, enough that he could finish a damn sentence. He didn’t want to get into this, any of this. But Alex deserved to know. He knew she did. He’d barged into her life mostly uninvited and she didn’t know why there was a ranger living with her now. “Keira killed someone I cared about.” His voice was a low whisper, barely audible over the sizzling onions and garlic on the stove.

All Kaden could do was watch them shrivel up and simmer on the pan. There were a dozen other things he wanted to say, thoughts running though his mind, but his eyes stayed fixed on the onions and his mouth stayed shut.

The silence enveloped the small kitchen and Alex could feel the tension rolling off Kaden in waves. It was as if those waves were crashing right into her as the ranger carefully chose his words while she stood there assuming and preparing for the worst. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, but the young werewolf could acutely see how the counter seemed to be the only thing keeping him upright– see how his knuckles whitened as he fought an internal battle Alex knew nothing about. If she’d known, she might have felt less like the proverbial other shoe was about to drop. The first words he spoke, only left her more confused. He had to leave? What did that even mean? She barely cared about the American legal system, so she wasn’t quite sure what the state of the French legal system was.

“You had to,” she repeated in a whisper as she tried to digest the myriad of different possibilities behind that phrase. There was pain in his voice and it broke something in Alex. Even if whatever his reason for leaving was a reason she shouldn’t trust him or believe that he could ever actually care, she didn’t want Kaden to hurt. He could leave her to the other hunters and she’d still hope for him to find peace. But then he spoke again, and though he didn’t say much, Alex could fill in the blanks. Keira killed someone he cared about– the only reason Keira would kill someone is if they also weren’t human. From her fuzzy memories of summers in France and the few training camps Andy and herself had been at with Keira, she had always been intense. Competitive to a fault, often kicking Andy’s ass in the process. Even when practicing with Alex who was a good decade younger than her, she didn’t hold back and reminded her that a monster would never take it easy on her. There was probably some sense of familial duty there, but Alex had always preferred Kaden because of it. Even with the haze of young memories, she could remember the feeling of Kaden being more helpful and patient with her gaping lack of skill.

And Alex felt her heart break for him. For everything else they’d gone through in life, Alex and Andy always had each other. Even when she was wrong, she knew she could count on Andy to support her and she hoped her sister knew that was something that went both ways. And someone was dead, someone Kaden was clearly still grieving. She could see in the ways he couldn’t take his eyes away from the onions crackling in the oil, in the way his shoulders seemed to slump as if the weight of it all threatened to crush him at any given moment. Any sense of doubt she possessed before about whether or not she could let her guard down with Kaden was quickly slipping away.

Words were just as hard for her to find, so instead, she closed the distance between them and took the place by his side, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. Alex couldn’t remember if they’d ever hugged before. The Durands and Langleys weren’t exactly known for their affectionate family dynamic, but whatever image of the perfect hunter family they had in mind could burn for all she cared in that moment. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, squeezing him tighter for a moment before letting him go, “You don’t have to– The math’s mathing.”

Her own words felt far away from her because Alex knew there were no words that made loss or betrayal hurt any less. In comparison, her insecurities seemed miniscule. Part of her still had to know for sure, though. “You cared about someone like me,” she offered plainly, “Which…” She stepped away, not entirely understanding it— caring for a monster. “Kind of answers my other question. You don’t have to tell me more if you don’t want to.”

Kaden didn’t notice her move, didn’t notice her hands wrapping around him until he felt the jolt of his hunter senses combined with the pressure of the hug. It was unfamiliar. Not just the hunter senses, either. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d hugged anyone, not really. Sure, Damien, maybe but… His mind drifted to a memory of his sister, clinging to him when they’d learned about their father, before so many things changed. This was different and not, all at the same time. He was frozen for a second, unsure of how to respond initially to such a foreign concept, but then his arms found their place around her, too.

For all the talk of family and its importance between his mother and sister, there was always something missing. A chink in the armor that he could never find and didn’t know how to patch up. Whatever it was, he felt it there in Maine with his cousins. The missing piece. Maybe it was acceptance. He couldn’t say. But he could feel it all the same. Somehow the word family had a different meaning in the cabin. One he liked a lot more. Even if things were still new – everyone still finding their footing after years apart.

Looking down at her standing across from him, he couldn’t help but smile. She was smart. Which he already knew but she’d put the pieces together without him saying damn near anything. He felt something prick at the corner of his eyes, but he didn’t want to dive too much into those emotions. Not again. “Not sure what mat has to do with it but I did, yeah,” he said, reaching out to ruffle her hair. The scent of the onions hit his nose. Merde. He reached over to push them around the pan quickly before turning his attention back to Alex. “See, you’re not that special, pipsqueak.” Of course he was only teasing. She was definitely special. Her and Andy both were. “But I can tell you more. If you want to know.” She deserved that much.

Something had been solidified when Kaden embraced her in return. There was still so much time to make up for, but even in the sadness she felt for her cousin, Alex could feel the previously weak family ties strengthening in the moment of affection. And she could feel that sense of family becoming thoroughly woven into place, like a warm quilt wrapping around all her doubts and comforting each one.

“Only if you’re sure,” she paused, stirring the pot of noodles that seemed to be turning out okay this go round, “Would you mind telling me about them? What they were like, how you were able to get to know them.” See them as not a monster.

She wasn’t sure if she was asking for Kaden or for herself. On the one hand, talking about the people you lost and keeping their memories alive could make the weight feel less heavy. Her own memories of her parents had been difficult to sort through. Sometimes, she was able to at least question if she really deserved the treatment they doled out to her as a child, but it was too muddied in grief. Andy never actively discouraged her bringing up their parents, but she was intuitive enough to pick up that her sister did not enjoy speaking of them. So, Alex tried to stay quiet. Her sister had done far too much for her already.

On the other, something about this other werewolf had to have been special. So much so that Kaden had been able to look past everything that had been instilled in them both from the moment they were born. Presumably, he had seen something good and worth caring for in someone he was supposed to hate– and she desperately wanted to know what that was, if it was something that she could embody too. No matter how much Andy encouraged and uplifted her, Alex couldn’t see it in herself.

“If it’s too soon,” she reassured gently, “or too hard to talk about. That’s okay, too. I’d still… like to know one day. Maybe honor their memory with you.” Mentally, she was already carving space in one of the little nooks in her garden to make that happen. Give him the memorial and space for remembrance she doubted was granted when he fled Lyon.

Kaden nodded and took a deep breath before focusing his attention back on the onions. He wanted to answer her question, but he knew he had to keep his focus elsewhere to even consider tapping into that part of his memory. He did his best to keep it all locked up, key tucked away safe and sound. He didn’t think he would be unlocking it so soon. The longer he looked at the onions, turning brown and sweet, the harder it was to reach in and pull out the memories. She was right. It was a good idea to remember him. For more than the last time he saw him, too.

“He wasn’t a werewolf when I met him,” he started, pushing the onions around with the spatula, making sure none of them stuck to the pan. “Damien. His name was Damien.” He sort of wished the onions were fresher, still just chopped. Maybe then he could use that as an excuse for the stinging in his eyes. “He, uh, he was my best friend.” That was what he’d always said, at least. It was the narrative he’d held onto. Even though there were moments where he wondered if— No, he really couldn’t reach into that part of it all. Wondering if there was more there. There probably had been. At least on his side. Not that any of that mattered now.

“I, uh, I had gone on a hunting trip and when I came back, I could sense him.” He caught sight of Alex out of the corner of his eye. “You know. Like…” Like how he could sense her all the time. He shrugged. “And I… I never said anything.” The onions were done. Which was unfortunate. His distraction was gone. He reached over to turn off the burner and then removed the pan, placing it on the back burner. “About any of it. What he was. What I was.” He took another deep breath, trying to steady himself. He pinched his eyes closed, rejecting the memory that resurfaced over and over again, while he was awake, while he was asleep, too many times to count. He wanted to hold on to something else. Anything else.

Grief heavily coated the air of the little kitchen they stood in. Alex could feel and hear the strain in his voice— could feel a small portion of the weight that had been saddling Kaden down likely since before he fled Lyon. She wished she could carry the weight in its entirety, take it off Kaden’s shoulders and make it her own so that he could know peace. It took someone special to be able to see a monster and love them anyway; it was a kindness Andy possessed that had always perplexed her, but she clung to the love and care her sister gave her anyway. And it felt wrong to think of Damien as a monster. It challenged her view of herself, which was comforting and terrifying in the same breath. Worse yet, her hope felt selfish and made her feel more like the monster she couldn’t bring herself to see Damien as.

“Damien,” she said softly, “What was he like?” It was difficult for Alex to picture Kaden’s life in France outside of the small view she had gotten of it during trips with their family, all of which was laced in duty and pride rather than anything else. Even if she spent years wishing she was like the rest of her family, that she hadn’t been the defective kid with no ranger abilities, it was nice to think of Kaden’s life over there as having moments that were softer than all of that. When he smiled, it carried a certain amount of warmth that she never wanted to see ice over. Even in the throes of grief and likely a lot of his entire world being shifted around, there was a certain softness to him— a harsh contrast from the knives they were apparently born to wield.

Alex removed the noodles from the stove and dumped them in the colander that she had placed in the sink earlier. Steam rose from the sink behind her as she turned to face Kaden again. There were a lot of blanks, a lot of smaller details that she searched his features for if only to save him the pain of poking at a still fresh wound. If he hadn’t told Damien about everything before Keira had killed him, it must have been recent. Kaden never even had the chance to fully dissect how he was feeling about the situation before the metaphorical rug had been pulled out from underneath him. She placed a hand on his back, not quite high enough to reach his shoulder, but close enough that she knew the intent was there. Comfort. “It’s not your fault,” she assured, “You know that, right? It was an impossible situation. There was no winning there and that’s not your fault.”

Kaden put his hands on the edge of the counter. He was pretty sure that was the only thing keeping him from crumbling, from letting the tides of sorrow carry him away. Still, he wanted to share with Alex, wanted to leave her with something positive and not just throw his own baggage onto her. That was his weight to carry. She was too young to have to worry about his bullshit.

Damien. Kaden could feel the air filling his lungs as he breathed in and tried to ground himself. How to describe someone with words who seemed more like a feeling in his memories. He tried to think, his focus going fuzzy as he tried to move past the worst memories onto the good. “He was funny,” he said with a small smile as he reminisced. “A little goofy, but not in that way that drew attention to himself or anything. More like he made sure things were inviting I guess.” Of course, Kaden could hardly take his eyes off him half the time regardless.

“Generous. Warm. Calm. Sometimes frustratingly so. Nothing bothered him. He cared about things, don’t get me wrong. Deeply. Just didn’t let anxiety eat at him or anything. Could always steer things in a better direction.”He looked over and watched her deal with noodles, which looked much better than the previous attempt. They might even have a meal after all this. Right, there was more to deal with for the sauce. He should actually get started on that.

“I don’t know, I met him at a bar when aa Olympique Lyonnais match was on and it felt like I’d known him for years after a few minutes.” Kaden kept his hands busy, grabbing the rest of the ingredients for the sauce and getting to work, moving without thinking. “He was yelling at one of the ref’s calls or something, I don’t know, but he was animated. He wasn’t that loud or anything, but some old man told him to quiet down and instead of getting angry, he just started to apologize to the guy in a whisper. The guy couldn’t hear him and after a few times of trying to make it out he asked him to be louder.” Kaden laughed at the memory. “So he yelled back that he was sorry and the guy got angry all over again. Damien bought him a beer and turned to me and asked if I wanted to get out of there and find a better bar.” A smile spread across his face, remembering how many nights they had like that, simple and stupid and moments he’d give anything to relive one last time. “We did, talked all night, closed out the second bar.”

Kaden shifted his focus entirely on the last steps of the sauce, afraid that allowing himself to live in the memories any longer would split open a seam that he couldn’t patch back together. Her hand on his back nearly made him jump, but he managed to not send any of the sauce flying. He looked at her, head tilting at her words. The smile that had faltered earlier slowly found its way back to his face. “You sound just like your sister, you know.” He set the spoon down and reached over to ruffle her hair. “She told me the exact same thing.”

Everything was still raw and Alex could tell by the way he leaned most of his weight into his hands on the countertop. Loss was tricky, tough to navigate, but sometimes remembering the better moments made it easier, especially when the death was under such presumably violent circumstances. She shook away the blurry images of her parents being torn from limb to limb while Andy dragged her away. Because that wasn’t how you wanted to remember someone. What Kaden had told her of Damien though? Those were the kind of memories worth keeping alive and holding close.

“He sounds like an amazing guy,” Alex said softly, “And I’m sure he was really happy to have a friend in you.” Because Damien did sound amazing and not at all like a monster, which made it harder for her to justify the use of the word for all werewolves, herself included. The story of how they met had been a funny one– warm, even. All of those things about Damien hadn’t magically shifted away when he became a werewolf. Maybe that meant the good in her wasn’t gone either, but it was hard to figure out what good there had even been in her before the bite.

Alex started to lay out the bottom row of noodles in the pan and tried to picture Damien in her mind. Something about the story of how they met almost sounded like a meet-cute you’d read about in some romance novel and she couldn’t help but wonder if there were deeper feelings there. She wasn’t going to press on that though. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet him,” she finally said. And she was. She wanted to know Damien, wanted to find comfort in the presence of another werewolf and well… if Kaden loved him, maybe she could have felt at peace in his company, too.

The hand ruffling her hair took her by surprise and Alex let out a quiet gasp before a smile took its place. It was weird being compared to her sister in a positive way. When they were kids, her parents had always drilled in her how far Andy had been ahead of her at her age. To hear that she sounded like Andy, who she had always looked up to and who had been the benchmark kid of the family, felt good. “Huh,” she laughed, “Guess wisdom runs in the family.” She gave him a playful nudge. “Well, at least on our side.”

“He is. Was.” Kaden corrected himself. It had been a while since he had to do that, even in his mind. It was hard for him to believe that Damien was lucky for knowing him, though. If they’d never met, maybe he’d still be alive. Then again, maybe it would have been worse and he would have died at Kaden’s own hand on a full moon. Either way, it wasn’t worth wandering into the what ifs. “I’m sorry, too,” he said, offering her a smile. “He’d have liked you. For sure. I can already see you two getting into trouble. Or at least giving me grief.” The thought of his two lives overlapping had never occurred to him – it seemed impossible for them to coexist. But now that it had, his heart ached at what could have been. He exhaled and tried to push it from his mind – it could never happen. Not anymore.

It was easy enough to stay in the present when he saw Alex’s shock at her hair being messed up. As much as he would give anything to have his friend back, it would have been a shame if he never found himself in Wicked’s Rest, if he’d missed out on reconnecting with his cousins. “Yeah probably,” he said, nudging her back. “But I think the cooking ability runs in my side.” He grabbed the sauce pan and started to help her build up the layers of sauce and cheese on top of the noodles. “You make a good sous chef, though, pipsqueak. You know, when you’re not setting the place on fire.” The chill down his spine signaling his hunter senses had faded into the background by this point, almost like a faint humming in the background. It was the same strange feeling of comfort he’d felt when he’d spent time around Damien in the last few months. He knew it was meant to be a reminder of the presence of danger, a warning signal, but there in the cabin, it felt like warmth, home, family – a reminder of Alex’s presence, that she was there. And it was hard to hate that feeling. “Alright, let’s get this into the oven so we’re not just having that pie for dinner.”

#wickedswriting #wr writing #threads; with kaden; no place like home #wr kaden #parental death tw #(never been a natural all i do is try try try) ;; writing #(the moonlight's blinding) ;; season 1 writing

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likephantomsforeverao3 · 2 years

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I Know The End - A Short TMA Story

Content warnings for discussions of death, mental health, overdosing and a descriptive suicide attempt.

Oliver Banks had lost everything.

His boyfriend - God, he was going to marry him, but then.. well. Oliver found the notebooks, and Graham had absolutely lost it, said he couldn’t understand, would never understand, told him he couldn’t be with someone who didn’t understand. And then he packed all of his notebooks into these tight black bin bags and left.

It had made him spiral. Oliver had never handled rejection well, not since he was a kid, and it certainly never changed as he became an adult. So here he was in his early twenties, blasting loud angry music in his kitchen while he smoked a joint, sobbing until the early hours of the morning. Burning all the pictures of him and his now ex on his balcony was the easiest part.

It was almost a matter of time before this affected his work too. He worked in Barclays. A great job for someone of his age.

He’d promised himself he’d keep that job until he died.

It started with occasional snaps, an attitude towards his coworkers that could be passed off as someone having a bad day, maybe there’d been delays on the Tube or he’d got an unexpected bill that meant he’d be living off Pot Noodles for a week. There was a million explanations, and although he’d grown drastically more quiet and isolated since the day his boyfriend went insane, it was vaguely known that he had lost said boyfriend.

He was having a particularly rough day, that Thursday. His music had been blasting in his ears until the second he was sat at his desk, he just didn’t want to deal with the world anymore.

And then his supervisor had approached him. It was a menial comment, all things considered, something about a spreadsheet error that had been found during a recent audit and traced back to him. It wasn’t even costing the company any money, just overcomplicating a process.

She opened her mouth to explain how to fix it.

And Oliver had just exploded. He screamed about how fucking hard he was trying, and no one had any idea what he was going through. He was at his feet at this point, and everyone in this office was watching him. He remembered yelling something incoherent about how nothing mattered, this job didn’t matter, the audit didn’t matter, what mattered when everyone was going to die or leave, whichever came first?

Sitting in a meeting room a half-hour later, he was told in no uncertain terms that he was being given ‘indefinite leave’ for his mental health, which was a nice way to say he was fired.

He walked to Boots, and bought some things he needed on the way home. Plasters, conditioner, deodorant, ibuprofen. Once he got home, he made a small dinner, a cup of coffee, and poured the rest of the milk down the sink. He let his cat out the front door, and sat on the couch.

Looking around his room, it was truly bare-bones. Most of the things that had belonged there were Graham’s, and Oliver had sold a lot in the optimistic hope of a ‘fresh start’.

He sighed bitterly, turned his music on, and ate. Once he’d finished, he took his coffee, the plate, and the painkillers into the kitchen. He washed the dishes and put them away, and he cleaned the surfaces. Then, finally, he turned to the now lukewarm coffee.

He slid an ibuprofen into his hand, and took it alongside some coffee. Then he took a second. They were sugar coated, and easy to just pop without much thought.

He pushed the rest out of that little blister packet and into his hand, put the packet in the bin, and went to sit on the couch again. Then, he poured the pills into his mouth, like a kid did with smarties, and downed the rest of his coffee.

Oliver Banks closed his eyes.

He thought he died. Even in his overdose induced slumber he felt something change, and he thought he was finally dead, and free.

After all, that had been his promise. He’d have that job til he died. And, whilst he hadn’t married Graham.. you know. Til death do us part.

But then he woke up, with a throbbing headache and the overwhelming urge to vomit. He made it to the bathroom just in time, though he was stumbling and his vision was spinning and kept fading to black. Throwing up did help though.

He sighed, leant himself against the toilet and just sighed. This world that seemed to curse him so wouldn’t even let him leave. The pounding in his head matched the pounding of the music, which was a good enough incentive to turn it off.

He made his way slowly and carefully to his room, curling up, shaking, on the bed. He didn’t even bother to change.

And that.. that was the night the dreams began.

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forabeatofadrum · 2 months

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Find My Way

Summary: Vivian realises that Warner will never respect her.

Notes: I am on a Christian Borle binge after rewatching Falsettos, which also revived my love for the musical version of Legally Blonde. I always loved how they changed Vivian's reaction towards Callahan kissing Elle. I know that the point of the reaction in the movie is to show how people are quick to judge Elle, but I also found it really powerful to see Vivian starting to support Elle. And I also think that this is probably the reason Vivian broke off the engagement. I want to explore Vivian's thoughts with this fic, so enjoy!

AO3

Vivian is staring at her ceiling. She's barely slept last night. She keeps replaying what happened over and over in her head.

Professor Callahan kissed Elle without her consent, Elle slapped him, and Callahan fired her. There's no denying that what happened to Elle is vile.

But the thing that Vivian cannot stop thinking about is Warner's reaction.

Warner witnessed the same thing. How could he act like Elle is to blame here? Vivian told Warner to stop 'teasing' her after it happened, and then they left.

Should Vivian have left?

She remembers the look on Elle's face when she realises she's been seen. And for a split second, Vivian had hesitated. But then Elle turned around and saw her hesitating and the next thing Vivian knows, she's followed Warner outside.

"Is anyone surprised?" Warner had said afterwards with a smug smile. He really seemed to revel in the fact that Elle only got her internship because of her looks.

Vivian kept quiet. She also kept quiet when Warner asked if she wanted to come back to his room. She left without a word, leaving Warner dumbfounded. Vivian didn't want to go back to his room. She wanted to forget this all happened.

So she went back to her room, ate some pot noodles, read some law books for fun, because yes, she does that, and then got ready for bed.

But she couldn't sleep. And now her alarm has rung and Vivian is awake in her bed, staring at her ceiling.

Her mind is racing, even though she didn't want to think about it. But why doesn't she want to think about it? This happened. This is assault. Isn't it kind of messed up that Vivian wants to act like she hasn't seen it? That she wants to move on and pretend it never happened?

She's read many stories of women in similar situations. She knows these things happen and now Elle's victim of it too.

Vivian's head is a mess. She doesn't want to sweep this under the rug, but by pretending it never happened, she will. But what can Vivian do? Professor Callahan controls everyone's career, including hers.

How can Elle be helped?

"Us girls need to stick together" is what Elle had said after they first met and Vivian thought that was ridiculous. The other girls are competition in this male-dominated field. And Elle is competition in another way.

Elle is gorgeous.

Elle is Warner's ex.

Elle is everything Vivian can never be when it comes to looks and charm.

Vivian isn't stupid. She knows that Warner is still hung up on her. Vivian might be wearing Warner's ring, but in the end, it means nothing. Vivian has had to sit next to Warner slipping up and calling Elle cute names. She's witnessed him flailing over her. She's seen how Warner has even tried to use his feelings to convince Elle from time to time.

That's why Vivian accepted Warner's proposal. She wanted to shove it in Elle's face that Warner is hers, but who is she kidding.

Well, Vivian has been kidding herself all this time. She comes off as confident, but Vivian's been comparing herself to Elle ever since Elle first stepped foot into that classroom. Again, Elle is everything that Warner wants. She's got the looks and the brains.

Vivian has the brains, but she will never blow Warner away with her looks. She'll always be less than Elle. Vivian's known this, and become of this she's refused to become close to Elle. Sure, during the Brooke Wyndham case, she's realised that Elle is capable and she's started respecting her on a professional way, but in the end, Elle's Vivian's rival.

Elle is perfect.

Elle is what Warner wants.

Elle is the ideal woman in Warner's eyes, since she has the pretty face and the beautiful body.

And yet, Warner has no problems absolutely tearing Elle down when he thinks she deserves it. It was cruel. It was unjust. Callahan forced himself on Elle and Warner acts as if this was always going to happen, as if no one can blame Callahan for it.

Elle is perfect.

Elle has the looks.

So Elle must've asked for it, in a way, right?

Right?

Vivian feels sick when she thinks about it. Being a woman in a male-dominated field is already rough. It hasn't gone unnoticed that Enid and Vivian keep getting other tasks. Callahan has never asked Emmett or Warner to get him a coffee. Callahan has also never asked Elle any of that, and Vivian was jealous of her, but now that she knows why Elle was heavily favoured by Callahan, she feels stupid for ever thinking Elle had it easier.

Callahan only boosted Elle's career with an ulterior motive. He never saw her potential.

And Warner agrees.

And if Warner has no issues treating Elle, who is the person Vivian's up against when it comes to his affection, like that, then what does that mean for Vivian? If Warner can treat Elle, the perfect girlfriend, like that, then how will he treat Vivian during their marriage?

Then it hits Vivian.

She should've seen this coming from miles away, but better late than never.

Warner will never treat her well.

The realisation is horrible, even though it's an obvious fact. Vivian is lying in her bed in her own sweat. She's started panicking and now the truth cannot get away.

Warner will never respect her.

Tears stream down Vivian's face, hitting the pillow.

The worst part is that it breaks Vivian's heart. She does love Warner. Yes, she's also marrying him out of spite, to show Elle she's won, but the reason she wants to win and has been painting Elle as her rival is because she wants to be Warner's.

All this time she was jealous of Elle. All this time, she has seen Elle as nothing more than competition. She saw Elle as a threat who was possibly going to take Warner from her, and why wouldn't Warner want to be with Elle?

But Warner was never going to respect Elle, the same way he's never going to respect Vivian.

Vivian cries until there are no more tears left to cry. It feels good, though. She's still heartbroken, but it's good to let it out. It's been a while since she's allowed herself to feel anything like this. She was too busy being the perfect law student and the perfect girlfriend. Crying didn't fit those images.

Her head is clearer now. She knows what she needs to do. It will be easier to act as if nothing's happened, but Vivian has values. She cannot sweep this under the rug, no matter how much easier her career will go.

And this also cannot end Elle's career.

Vivian needs to find Elle. The team and Brooke need her. Vivian mentally creates a plan that involves calling Emmett. He must know where to find her. And Vivian will also call Enid for help. It's time for all of them to work together. Vivian will bring Elle back and she will show her that Callahan was wrong.

"Us girls need to stick together" rings in her head. Elle was right. It's time to stop seeing Elle as competition and it's time to start seeing her as the person who can win this case.

But before that, she needs to see Warner. Vivian drags herself out of bed, puts make-up on her face to hide her exhaustion and sadness, and gets dressed in one of her many business casual looks.

Her engagement ring is lying on her vanity.

She picks it up with a sad smile and curls her fingers around it. Once, this ring meant to much to her. It was a sign that she was better than Elle, at least in one way.

But now she's ready to give it back to Warner, a man she loves, but a man who will never love her.

It's time to choose for herself. It's time to be free from this nonsense competition.

She leaves her dorm room and makes her way to Warner's room.

#legally blonde #ficlet #2024 #holy fuck I wrote #WOE RANDOM LEGALLY BLONDE FIC BE UPON YE

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princesswithdisorder · 2 months

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I have a normal relationship with food and my perception of myself

Ever since I was young my dad was weird about food. I mean, when I was really young he was in the army and not home so I don’t even know. But then as I got older he eventually got fired for not being fit enough (I think?). After that he lowkey went crazy. Well, no. This man was crazy from the start. But he went more crazy. This time it was about food.

I remember in elementary school coming home from what felt like a long day, but what was probably just a ‘long day’ of learning multiplication. Whatever. I had math hw to do and I knew it would end with my dad yelling at me and me crying. My thought was “I should eat a snack BEFORE hw so that when dad makes me cry I can just go to my room and go to bed.” It was a rule to ask for food before you ate anything. I always thought it was normal to have to ask before you ate anything. Honestly I’m still not convinced that it’s not normal. I mean it does kinda make sense. If ur kid wants to eat a bunch of junk, they should ask so if it’s around dinner or smth you can tell them no so they’ll have room for dinner. But I had to ask before literally anything. If I hadn’t eaten in 3 days and I was starving, and I went to get something without asking, my dad would freak out.

I remember one time in 9th grade after my parents broke up. I was alone at my dad’s. My dad’s car pulled into the driveway while I was cooking ramen. I hadn’t asked to eat the ramen. I immediately freaked out. Thankfully I didn’t put the noodles in yet. I had only boiled the water. I was so scared my dad would get pissed at me for making something without asking. I was doing online school at the time and he was at work. I hadn’t eaten anything yet that day. It was like 5 pm. I just wanted ramen but I got so scared that he was going to yell at me about it. I got scared I was going to make him mad, and I don’t like being around angry men. He is the reason for that. My first thought was to get rid of the water and put the pot away and take the noodles to my room to eat dry. I picked up the pot, but too fast apparently, because it splashed the boiling water on the side of my lower stomach. It hurt so bad. I was crying. I didn’t want my dad to know. I went to my room crying and put ointment on the burn. I ate the dry ramen noodles.

I guess that’s just some backstory of part of why my relationship with food is weird. Here’s another part of it- I’ve felt fat for my whole life, but I’ve only BEEN fat for a year or 2. When I was in middle school I weighed around 110 lbs. I felt so insecure and big. I wanted to be less than 100. I wanted to be skinny. I started restricting, counting calories, fasting, and purging. I was cutting myself a lot too. I was just doing really bad. I was heavy into sh and ed instagram. I was literally 12. That’s so sad. Thinking about it being me isn’t sad, but like if it was any other 12 year old I would feel awful for them. Whatever though. So my disordered eating behaviors started around 2018/2019.

It got worse again in 9th grade. I was dating a girl who would constantly talk about how she hadn’t eaten in days and how skinny she was getting. I was jealous. I was super skinny at the time, but not good enough. I weighed about the same until the end of 10th grade. Or like the start of 11th grade. I started meds and I gained weight. I’m genuinely convinced the meds are what made me gain weight because I didn’t change my eating habits. It makes me so sad to know that if I never started these stupid fucking meds that don’t even work, I would still be skinny. Maybe. I honestly don’t know. It’s a hunch. Whatever

I’m now 170 something and I hate myself. I have a tummy, which I even had when I was skinny, but obviously it’s bigger now. I hate it. I started going to the gym w my fwb but we stopped talking because I got back w my ex (I mean it’s a W bc I have the love of my life but an L because I lost gym buddy). But ig the perk is, I got boobs. I don’t really know if it’s completely a perk. I mean I kinda like them and they’re really soft. Also I got my nipples pierced and it’s sick asf. If I didn’t have boobs it would look more weird. Whatever. My point is, I used to have a really skinny waist. I’ve never had hips, but I at least was skinny. Now I have no hips, no ass, and I’m fat asf. I hate myself so much.

I’ve been eating so much less lately. I mean when I do eat, I usually eat more calories. But I don’t eat more than a meal a day. I’m trying to cut down to nothing. I’m fasting right now. I’ve decided to go until tomorrow, I mean basically the day after tomorrow. I got a cute little app. I hope that I don’t fold. I don’t have money to be ordering anything and there’s nothing I desperately want here at my house, so I will probably do fine. As long as I drink a lot of water it should be fine. I hardly get hungry anymore. Idk what it is, but I’m really glad. I love it. I’m not losing weight yet because this started fairly recently and I don’t have a scale to know how much I weigh. But I can definitely notice the difference in how much I’m eating and I’m really proud.

This isn’t like…. And Edtumblr account.. I just felt like since nobody will find my page this is an okay place to talk about it. Idk. I mean it went on forever lol nobody would read this all.

Something else that kind of contributes to my issues in this department is that the love of my life also had food problems. He used to/maybe still does, maybe fast and purge, and occasionally work out. It makes me really sad to think about it, but also it feels like competition ? I know that’s an awful thing to say, that you view your romantic partner as competition. But I just felt if he was going to lose weight then why wasn’t I going to? I felt fat. And then after him I did talk to a couple gym bros and they also made me more self conscious about eating and working out. Whatever. I just felt like that part was an important contributor.

I don’t really have much else to say and I don’t know how to end this. More recently I’ve been an observer on edtwt…I just look at thinspo and save weight loss tips. I don’t post anything, god no. Also more recently, as I previously mentioned, I’ve had less appetite lately. I don’t know the reason for that. Maybe it’s because I feel so fucking depressed and suicidal. Literally all I want is to fucking die. I try not to think about it but it’s bad right now. Ermmm LOL sorry for turning emo right there. Anyways, my point is that I have less appetite and GOD BLESS THAT….

Seeing my psychiatrist today! Wish me luck

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hibewriter · 4 months

Text

Take Me (In the Midnight Hour)

Masterlist Read it on AO3 WIP

Chapter 1 2

The Rings of Power / The Lord of the Rings | Haladriel / Saurondriel | 10.1K | E

One

To preface this story is to do it an injustice.

After all, how does one preface something they don't know the ending to? I'm still here — waking, living, breathing like before. Yet, unlike before, there's something new. Something within me has shifted and morphed into an unrecognizable mass of darkness. Darkness that strives to serve — to follow, to hold — the devil with whom I share a bed. Something within me wants to swaddle him in my arms and let him take every piece of me to Hell, where he has made his home. He said he wished to guide the beleaguered masses back to civility. To guide or to rule. To rule or enslave. His union of those wronged by the very hand he fed upon.

Before, when I was young, I relished a day spent at the lakeside of my family's home in Mithlond. When the colonial-style house stretched far into the sky – its pillars visible from grassy shores where I would eventually take a rest. There was no perversion in me then, no broken heart or sordid promises. Not when my brother would carry me inside after a long day of play. But the emptiness had been there when I held Celeborn's hand. The emptiness had been there at every dinner between our two families, and each date at our city's finest restaurants. Superficial and hollow.

Hollowness drove me to his arms. Running from my mind drove me to his bed. But staying, in both, might have been the most frightening thing of all.

It took four months of living in Tirharad for my brother to call me. Four months of wondering if my choice was wrong, or if perhaps I had acted too rashly on the day I had stormed out of the safety of Mithlond. Four months of wondering if I was truly alone, sitting in a cramped studio apartment waiting for the phone to ring or perhaps a letter to appear with an apology from an all too distant mother. I wondered, then, when the phone rang if I was hallucinating. Or if perhaps there had been something in the pie I ate, a nightmare or a dream born out of innocuous food prepared the day before in a kitchen perhaps a touch too small.

"Galadriel," his voice came distorted through the line, taking on the slight hum of the phone line that somehow never went away despite years of advancement in technology. Nonetheless, he sounded breathless, as if he'd run to catch me even though he'd called.

"Finrod." His name was heavy on my tongue. A weight of attrition, a forced distance between me and him. The degradation of his name to merely a stranger I had just met, instead of a brother who I'd known and loved. It's easier to stare at the pan on my stove, the one that has been there since I cooked instant ramen noodles three days ago. Empty with a shallow layer of salt and preservatives coating the walls.

"Let's be reasonable," he says. "We all said things we don't mean, and Cel said he'd be willing to keep the engagement on if you said sorry."

"I don't want to say sorry," I say, still staring at that stupid pot. I should clean it. Or get a new one. One that wasn't a stupid hand-me-down from college. He sighs, clearly about to say more when I proceed anyway. "It's been four months. The first thing you have to say is get back with Celeborn?"

It's laughable if not painful. I always knew that my family placed more emphasis on the "Noldor Family" as a reputation than on happiness. A sense of duty to marry into a respectable station of equal or higher value than our own and pump out beautiful babies that would have blonde hair until all of Lindon knew us. Or feared us. It was all the same when you had power and influence.

"I – you're right," he says, though his tone tells me he is far from done speaking. "How are you?"

(I buy a new kitchen set from Williams Sonoma, a cream granite one with that non-stick coating that screams studio kitchen, and not a girl who mostly just reheats pre-packaged food. It's aspirational, I rationalize — the pans are weighty in my palms as I try to wrestle them onto the sleek countertop to check out.

The man at the counter glances at me, and I can tell he's trying not to stare as he rings me up. Since moving here I've not seen a single person who looks like me. Dark-haired girls who are shorter and plumper flood the streets. They wear cottage-core outfits straight from Pinterest, though if I had to guess I'd bet my life that they mostly worked comfy jobs in offices that spent too much money on cafeterias and not on salaries.

I blink, dazed as I step out of the store. I've been staring at one such girl, and I have to cough and apologize when she raises an eyebrow in my direction as if begging me to say something. I don't know when I got so judgmental.)

"What can I get you?"

"What do you have?"

After my call with Finrod, it's easy to find a bar within walking distance of my studio. It's loud, one of those open concepts where the entire room is centered around a square bar, two bartenders on either side filling the mouths of any and everyone with ten dollars. They don't care about the girl walking in, as long as her card is running. The nametag on the bartender's shirt is faded – smudged and chipped in several places, but still. Its owner's name was clear as day. Elendil. I didn't particularly care at the time, but he bore witness to my misery, and every witness deserves a name. Not to mention his pour was heavy, the gin bottle noticeably emptier when he returns it to the well.

So I spend my night rejecting advances from men who think they have a shot and drowning my sorrows in gin and tonic until the room begins to blur at the edges.

There is a man who tries to follow me out, trailing behind me enough that even in my addled state I could recognize the predatory way he stalked behind me when I left the door. Instead of right, I turn left, my pace brisk as I head down the street toward the city's center. Away from my home and the safety of a bolt lock.

The streets are surprisingly empty, dark, and wet from an apparent storm that I was lucky or unlucky enough to miss. It's nearly three blocks before I spot people. Two. It's instinctive to cross toward them. I immediately embrace the smaller of the two, a woman, in my embrace.

"Help me," I whisper in her ear.

Tonight I'm lucky, making new friends as we wait for the stranger to disappear from the block. Her name is Bronwyn. Her boyfriend drives me home.

(The plan comes to me that night, cuddled into my bed under two fluffy blankets as I scrolled The Tirharad Independent looking for places to visit in the city. The statue was bronze, a boy standing atop an anvil, raising a hammer to the sky: Sauron and the Sun.

I liked it.)

"Walk away," I said as I sipped my gin and tonic. It's been six months since I moved to Tirharad. Today I was supposed to go with Bronwyn and Arondir on a double date – their version of friendship came with the idea that singleness was a problem to be fixed. But for some reason I found myself plopping down for a single drink that had turned into four. An apology was already typed on my phone the closer it got to my planned meet-up time. Not that I had an issue with them trying. Planned dates with vouched-for men or women were certainly more advisable than what happens here.

"I was just wondering what a girl like —"

"I'm engaged." It's easy to show the ring I'd found at an antique store, lifting my left hand in the general direction of the stranger. The opal center reflected against the low lights of the bar, brass catching rays of the sun. It looked hand-made, something forged from love and dedication I'd certainly never felt before. But does he get the message? Of course not.

"Do I know him?" The look in his eye is lecherous, leering as he pays attention not to my ring but to the thin straps on my top. He leans into my space. If I'd been in a correct mood, if I'd even wanted the attention of a man, he would've been attractive. He wasn't dressed like the other men here, the black turtle neck tucked seamlessly into his slacks as if he were trying to hide a violent nature beneath a veneer of soft and muted clothing. Or maybe I'm just projecting in hindsight.

"He's a blacksmith," I say, head lowered to my drink as I contemplate getting kicked out for assault. He hasn't done anything yet. Nothing to warrant a kick to the shins or a smack in the face. Something that could be a disservice.

"I know so many blacksmiths in the area. What's his name?"

"Sauron," I deadpan. He laughs, brisque and loudly.

I decided then that I didn't like him.

There was a dark glint in his eye — as if his humor had been found in a secret past I knew nothing about. It's been nearly the same reaction all month, one that typically goes away with a steady gaze and a bored expression. This guy, however, likes to push.

"I know Sauron, kid," the man says. This. This wasn't planned for. In the past two months that I've been running this gambit, no one had known Sauron. Or professed to. Most assumed that he was a made-up man with no connection to reality. "There's no way someone who looks like you would want anything to do with him."

"You think you know me based off of looks?" I start, knowing now that he'll never get the hint. "You, whatever your name is, have no idea what I want. Or who I want for that matter. And you never will, because the only thing you need to know is that whatever I want — it isn't you. Now. Like I said. Walk. Away."

I should've known then that it wouldn't be the last I'd seen of him. The shift in his face from amusement to dead serious within a fraction of a second. His smile is now a straight line, the glint in his brown eyes gone, replaced only with black. But my trepidation was placated when he nodded, reaching into his pocket and producing a card. Simple bold black lettering as he slid it toward me on the bar counter.

Melkor Ainor Master Welder

"Tell Sauron that his old friend is looking for him." His words feel like a threat. But he's gone before I even look up from the card.

(Never trust a man who insists he knows you better than yourself.)

I focus my attention on the bartender and raise my glass, dangerously close to empty. A fifth to drown away the past and present. A sixth to quiet the thoughts.

Bronwyn sent 11:57AM

Hey, we're going to switch to later tonight, is that alright?

Read 11:57 AM

You sent 12:02 PM

How much later tonight?

Read 12:03 PM

Bronwyn sent 12:03 PM

We were thinking 9. We wanted to hit up that new sports bar down on Greenier.

Read 12:03 PM

You sent 12:07 PM

Maybe. I've been feeling sick today. Read 12:08 PM

Bronwyn sent 12:08 PM

Sick like last week?

Read 12:08 PM

(Sick like always.

I don't respond.)

It takes eight months in Tirharad for my mother to talk to me.

At this point, I had a weekly call with Finrod. We talked like coworkers most of the time. How was your weekend? Turning into each other in broken records as if we cared what stalls were at the farmer's market, or whether or not his kids knew who he was talking to when he stepped out of the room. It was one of those such calls before I heard the shuffle on the other side of the line. The "just let me talk to her" was muffled by what I assumed was Fin's hand over the receiver. Before there was a drop and a brief silence. And then —

"Galadriel," her voice came in. My mother always carried the tone of a woman who had just finished running. A breathlessness followed each syllable as if they were in a race to exit her mouth first. "When are you going to stop this foolishness and come home?"

Eight months of foolishness. As if my mother were simply waiting for me to return from a tantrum I'd thrown. I felt the bile rise in my throat. Anger manifested in my throat as a solid weight, a pain that refused to dissipate. Rise or sink would've been preferable but instead, it sat stuck, needing to be broken apart instead of relocating. It was different than with Finrod. Then I simply had to shift the conversation away from what he wanted to talk about – he was a perpetual puppy, distracted if you shook a toy in front of his face.

"Galadriel?"

Eärwen Noldor was not so easily distracted.

The next thing I know, my screen is black. The call ended without saying a word.

(She calls me several times after, from her number this time. Each call is met with a prevailing silence, voicemails in the trash while I contemplate throwing my phone off the balcony.)

When you reflect upon your choices – in something like this, which at its core is a memoir of my consciousness and my failures – you learn what pushes you. Is it rage? Surface level — yes. The initial rage that flows from a mother's latent misunderstanding of who her daughter is. That "tantrum" that follows. Powder can only sit in a keg for so long. So what do you do? What did I do? I drowned my gunpowder in liquid fire and waited for the flame to swallow me whole.

I met the devil on a Wednesday afternoon. He is the flame that leads to a spark – though I hadn't known that then.

He finds me at a bar I wasn't a regular at. Some sports bar as Arondir wanted to watch a team play. I'd never so much as seen the man smile, but of course, he watched the screen with that same rapt attention he gave everything.

I still wore the ring, my signal to Bronwyn and Arondir that I didn't want their wingman services. It didn't matter. Their services never worked. Men tended to think we were a poly couple, which I would say was confusing but – my arms wrapped around Bronwyn's waist, Arondir draped over her shoulders and I won't lie and say I didn't know how the brown sugar lipgloss tasted coming off Bronwyn's lips. The gin and tonics were strong at this bar, but the drinks are always strong when we're together. We should probably talk about it. Not tonight.

Tonight he had caught my eye, not unlike my initial appraisal of Melkor. The tense air around him seemed to not affect the others in his group. They were surrounding him as if this club were the ocean and he was the only raft in sight. He stood casually, back to one of the only spaces along the wall of the bar that wasn't filled with other people. There was a small huddle around him, at least two girls clinging to each sleeve of his jean jacket as he told whatever story he was regaling the group with.

I don't know why I kept staring at him. If Bronwyn or Arondir had noticed they didn't say anything, letting me sip on the clear liquid in my glass as I stared across at him. Something so familiar yet unrecognizable about him as I did. Then his eyes – green, not like the forest but like a snake, treacherous and alluring all at once – met mine.

I wish I could say it was immediate magnetism – that the second our eyes connected he made me swoon with the idea of a future together based only on his gaze boring into mine or that there was an electric pull that brought me to him setting me alight. But that wouldn't be the truth.

His gaze felt like a weighted blanket. All the rushing thoughts in my head suddenly evaporated, silenced by a sea of green.

It doesn't take much to shake Bronwyn and Arondir from my side. I slip through the crowded bar mostly unnoticed, just another face pushing against clusters of shoulders just trying to get to the bathroom. I'm foolish enough to think that a splash of water and a quick pick me up will return my mind to something other than the stranger on the other side of the room.

The water is tepid against my skin. The paper towels are coarse. In the back of my mind, Eärwen scolds me for wasting expensive skincare items on subpar materials. She would've hated how I'd switched from her beloved Tatcha creams to the generic brands sold at the bodega across the street from my home. She would've hated this bar and my friends. Probably would've hated the clothes on my back or the way I wore my hair. It's enough to make me smile.

He's there when I exit the room. He leaned casually against the opposite wall, studying me as if at a museum and he was finally close enough to see the details in the art. We stare at each other. Or more, I stare and he moves into my space. I smell him now, all steel and smoke, as he backs me toward the bathroom. I don't think to speak, just letting him head me back inside.

He seems to have made up his mind about me, shepherding me into the stall furthest from the door. It's spacious, one of those specifically built for handicapped patrons. Looking back I probably should've scolded him, perhaps argued about the locale and the fake ring on my finger. Demand he let me go and head back into the crowd to find my friends. But I don't.

Instead, I bite my lip when he turns toward the door to the stall. He's tall – taller than I would've guessed from across the room. My brain immediately turned to a litany of tallbigtall, all warning bells muted in favor of attraction.

"I'm Halbrand," he says. It shocks me how he provides the barest of introduction before he locks the stall door behind us. For a moment I had thought he wouldn't speak at all, content to just let two strangers use each other for stolen minutes in a bathroom stall. It was cliche. But if didn't feel that way at the time.

"Galadriel."

His lips were on mine within a second of my name leaving my lips. His kiss was hard, all of him pressed into me as he bent to consume me. Lips, and hands, everywhere on me – his arms coiling around my waist. He was crushing me into him, refusing me the option to move away and catch my breath. Whatever he'd seen in me he saw fit to push and mold me into whatever he wanted me to be.

There's something so devastating about releasing your mind into the hands of another.

Even worse is finding that you like it.

By the time my brain caught up to what was happening my body was already responding. My hands were needy, insistent as they grabbed at his hair. My lips were an uncoordinated mess, desperately trying to catch up to his initial dive. But somehow it worked. His hands had moved from my waist, so far south he was lifting me by my ass, pulling me into him. I want to say he didn't have to pull. I would've followed him anyway.

Instinctively I wrap my legs around his hips. It's a drug, the feeling of his hardness, blocked by lack of foresight and the sensible "don't-try-to-fuck-me" jeans I'd worn. He was hard, heavy weight against the burgeoning heat in my core as his lips left mine to explore the exposed skin of my neck. It was disorienting, having gone months feeling numb to the feeling of skin against skin, only for a stranger to pull the dormant lust in me to the surface.

It felt like fire.

The noise I made when he pulled the slightest inch away from me would be embarrassing if anyone but him had heard it. But he was pulling at the waistband of my pants, urgent hands doing their best to pull them just low enough before he turned me to face the stall wall.

"You gonna be quiet for me?" He asks, lips against my ear as he manages to get my jeans to pool around my knees. I heard the zipper of his jeans, what I hoped was the ripping of a condom. But to be honest – I couldn't care less. "Or are you gonna let everyone hear what I'm gonna do to you?"

Looking back, I can't tell if I asked him to wait. If I asked him to slow down, or maybe finger me a bit before I was filled. All consuming, wholly, filled. Each push of his hips craved a new place inside me for himself. A goodbadgood burn as his girth pushed me past the limits I previously thought I had. By the time he was fully inside, hips pressed to mine, I was a whimpering mess.

"Didn't even need prep, did you, baby?" His breath was gruff against the hollow of my ear. Deeper, more desperate as he pulled back – which I think was worse than being filled, the emptiness he left behind an ache that only the returning push of his cock inside me could cure. All I could do was moan, my knuckles curling against the hard plastic of the stall wall as I scrambled for purchase.

I don't pretend to be above a cry, the pinpricks of water falling from my eyes as he began a harsh pace inside. "Mmm, i' hurts."

His fingers gripped my hips tightly, a dark laugh coming from his throat. His chest was to my back, his body encompassing mine and it was too much. It's too fast, it's too hard. He knocks the breath from me but still, I blush. I'm overwhelmed but my cunt craves him – walls clenching, gushing around him as he slips, cruel, a single finger to rub at my clit.

It's hard to care about the sounds we're making. The clear slapping as skin meets skin, the soft moans from my mouth, or the groans from his throat –

He asked if I'd be quiet but I'd never been louder.

"Fuck," his voice was low and ragged in my ear. The hand not on my clit winding up my shirt to grasp my breast – kneading, pinching, pulling at the soft skin in a way that sent electricity through my body. My orgasm was winding up inside me, coiling tighter and tighter as he drove me into the fucking wall. We were pressed so close together I was surprised the thick plastic hadn't given way to his harsh thrusts. He added a second finger to my clit, rolling the bud between the two as the pads began to press on where our bodies joined together. The coil snaps, my orgasm hitting me like a light-rail train. I feel the gush come from me, my entire body seizing around his length and forcing gasps of air out of my throat. Panicky, shaky breaths as I fall apart in a sports bar bathroom while the veritable stranger behind me continues to fuck into me like a beast. I could only hang on the best I could, my legs feeling like jelly. His hand left my breast, gripping my waist to hold me up as he chased his release.

By the time he came, I was slumped, boneless against the wall as he slammed inside, grinding harshly into my backside. Each push drove the warmth of his spend deeper and deeper inside me, my brain a haze as I tried to remember whether or not I had taken my birth control, or if I had asked if he had worn a condom, or if I was just misremembering the sound.

He's still inside, both of us panting. His hand comes to my throat, and he turns my head to look at him. "Come back to my place."

It's not a question, more of a demand. Still, I find myself nodding, eyes glossy as he smirks down at me. It's sinister, it's cruel. It makes me clench around his softening cock, earning me a hiss and swat to my ass before he pulls away from me. He cleans me up. He takes me home.

When I was young my father used to tell me that running only prolonged the pain. Eventually, you'd have to come home and face the music, and it'd be worse because you put the time and distance between the initial wound and taking care of it. A festering wound can never heal and other euphemisms that meant the same thing. At the time I took it to mean that he didn't want me to hide my report card from him or that I should apologize when I was wrong.

The problem was — I got excellent grades, and I was rarely, if ever, wrong. At least, until I started dating Celebron.

I was no stranger to waking up alone.

I'd done it for the majority of my engagement, then every day since I moved to Tirharad. (Excluding the one night with Arondir and Bronwyn — a drunken engagement that will never happen again.)

I was not used to waking up pleasantly sore, the feeling of being thoroughly used and pushed past the normal maintenance orgasms a vibrator could provide. I was not used to waking up in sheets softer than silk, feeling like I had slept on a cloud while the smell of bacon wafted through the apartment. It was nice. It couldn't happen again.

It only took me a few moments to find my clothes, sans panties - which seem to have disappeared into the ether. I guess he'll have a memento.

There was no use tip-toeing out of the room. My brief introduction to the space the night before made it clear - while it was spacious, it was open concept and the kitchen was between the front door and both rooms in the apartment. It's a shame. I would've preferred avoiding the "that was fun but I don't want to see you again" conversation.

"You're awake."

He's leaning against the doorframe as I finish pulling my pants up. Unabashedly staring, when I turn to face him, though I can't fully blame him. He already saw it all and worse the night before.

"Yeah," I cough, avoiding his eyes. There was something so...intense about him in the daylight. His face said a neutral impassiveness, but his eyes held a sharp glint I hadn't seen before. I'm not sure what it was, but I didn't want to find out. "I have a, uh, meeting. With my mom."

I never said I was a great liar.

He seems to notice it, eyebrow raised in skepticism as he straightens his posture. "Okay."

I thank every deity I can that he decides not to push it further. He steps out of the way and lets me out of the room.

(Speak of the devil and she will come.)

I had answered the phone without checking it. A rookie mistake as I began walking the blocks back toward my apartment.

"Hello?" I answered, staring into the distance as I thought about the interaction with Halbrand. He hadn't done anything outright sinister. Unless you counted holding my hips down as he —

"Galadriel, finally." Fuck.

"Mother," I sigh. "Your persistence knows no bounds."

"And your stubbornness seems equally as vast, darling. I'll make this quick."

I pause on the sidewalk, turning to look at a small cafe. It was decorated for Halloween, with cut-out paper lanterns and pumpkins scattered in between faux webbing and paper mache bats. It was cute, it looked cozy. When I left Mithlond it was January, snow had hardly melted, and yet, I had found comfort in Tirharad's little propensities. My mother was the type to skip the Halloween decorations, opting instead to spring straight into Christmas and her House of Noldor gala decorations.

"I want you to come home," she said. As if it was simple. As a matter of fact. "I want you to apologize to Celebron for causing a scene, and I want you to keep the spring wedding you always wanted."

"I'm not doing any of those things." I step into the cafe. There's a soft classical tune playing I'd never heard of and everyone inside seemed too preoccupied with their own lives to pay attention to me. The line isn't too long, and the wafting of an apple cinnamon concoction is too great for me to pass up.

"Why do you insist on ruining yourself for –"

"I'd advise you to reconsider that statement." I hum, scanning the selection of pastry options. It was one of those displays with a clear face, and you could practically see the steam from the fresh selection as they sat, waiting for someone like me to pick them.

"Galadriel I am your mother and I can say what I know to impart on you as wisdom and –"

"Actually, you can respect my boundary and not insist I'm 'ruining myself' considering you're the one who's harassing me. Or I can simply block all of you. Can I get the apple pie cinnamon roll, please? And the iced espresso with cream, yes."

"Are – are you in public?"

"Did you think I would sit around my apartment moping?" I ask as if I hadn't done exactly that for the past eight (or was it nine?) months. Time moved quickly if you blacked out most of it. But it was days like today that showed in my mind's eye with the most clarity. Down to paying with cash. Seventy-eight cents change – dropped directly into the tip jar.

"Well yes, honey. You were dumped just three months before the wedding for that scene you caused." I can see the bait from a mile away. Her inflammatory language was only there to urge me into a rage. She wants me to scream, to force myself to embarrass myself in this area now that she knows I am surrounded. Normally she would succeed. Normally I'd yell, insist that wasn't the truth. That we both knew the truth.

"Well," I say, moving to the end of the counter to wait for my order. "If catching Celeborn with his pants around his ankles while fucking the waitress from our engagement dinner, berating him for it then leaving to pack all my shit out of his house is 'getting dumped' then I guess I was dumped. I'd do it again now, down to the slap to the face, and calling him a shrimp-dicked cretin."

"Galadriel," She hissed. A warning, discomfort flowing through her veins. Even when she was trying to bait me, she still couldn't let go of her notions of propriety.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, mother. I didn't realize my description of getting cheated on would upset you so much. I'm so glad that you care so much about my happiness to realize that what Celeborn did was terrible and I shouldn't take someone like that back into my heart."

"Honey, sure he has his...flaws. But he is stable! He's the son of Senator Doriath! Does our family mean nothing to you?"

"I didn't realize my marriage was just to be a political bargaining chip for you." I did. But I never expected her to brazenly say so. Then again, I never expected to be in this situation at all.

The barista stops in front of me, handing the pastry and drink. I'm out the door in an instant, slipping into the daylight once again. This time my pace is drenched in speed, not taking the time to savor the sights or stop at a cushy-looking storefront.

"Well honey, what else would it be?" I would think the answer was obvious to her. But like everything about the past three years of my life, I was wrong.

"I don't know mother, I must've been under the impression that people married each other for love."

"Oh honey, no one marries for love anymore."

"You would have me marry a cheater and a liar on the off chance he was honest about leveraging our family to prosperity. Chain myself body and soul to a crook?"

There's silence now. A chasm between us that she knows can not be crossed. She sighs. As if finally seeing the logic. As if the logic was what she needed. She couldn't accept that his actions were bad enough on their own.

"You'll do what you wish then." The line goes dead.

#haladriel #saurondriel

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davidhatter · 2 years

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Day 10: Love is Stored in the Kitchen - 10 Significant Meals to David Hatter

Before their mother died she’d made Saimin. It was a staple in the Hatter household, pleasing to all the kids who each had their own apprehensions toward certain food that never seemed to align, and easy to put together for her since she’d been doing it since she was a kid, learned from her father.

She had made a large pot of the broth, setting aside noodles and toppings to be put on later, and what had remained of it sat in the fridge. The kids had been eating it here and there as her health deteriorated.

It had taken him a few days, after she had died and the town had brought their offerings of casseroles and dishes with various states of potatoes, to pull the remainder of the broth from the fridge. His siblings were all asleep, having already had their fill for the night, and he was left alone, staring at the broth.

He heated it up on the stove, boiled noodles, and put the toppings inside. He sat down at the table, alone, and ate.

It tasted like it always did. When it was gone, so was she.

“You gunna clean that shit up?”

Anna, the second eldest of the remaining Hatter’s, stared at him.

She had just spent the last 10 minutes destroying the kitchen. The kitchen he’d spent days cleaning in order to look good for people coming to look at the house to buy. She had made hot cocoa in there every Christmas for herself and their siblings in the mugs that were shattered across the counter tops, and she had put cookies in the oven she had kicked at until the glass window broke.

“That’s…that’s it?” she asked him, breathless

“Well I’m not doing it.”

“Fuck you!” she yelled at him, picking up an apple that had spilled over the tile with the rest of the bowl of fruit. Anna threw it at him. He caught it, fixing her with an unimpressed look. “Don’t you care at all? Aren’t you mad? Look at this!”

Hatter did. Nodded. He walked closer, her person becoming smaller and smaller. He dipped down, picking up what salvageable fruit was left. Oranges, another apple, a pear. They were set out on the kitchen table as he went to get a knife before returning to them, sitting down.

Anna watched him as he peeled the orange, sliced it into sections. The apples were next, then the pear. Then he pushed one half to the other side of the table, kicking the chair out from under it. Slowly she came and sat down, wiping her nose on her sleeve. They ate in silence, his eyes roaming the disheveled room.

“David,” she said, quietly. He returned his gaze to her.

Oh. Right.

He traded her pears for his apples.

His birthday, 20th one to be exact, had not been a very good one. It was filled to the brim with orders, the fall season kicked into high gear and his lack of experience showing through as he stumbled around behind the counter. He’d burned himself, an old washcloth still wrapped right around his hand, and managed to get sugar all in his shoes. Cleaning that night had been the most peace he’d had all day, grateful when he had finally been able to turn the sign from OPEN to CLOSED.

He climbed the stairs to the flat, taking his shoes off before crossing the threshold. Hatter stopped as he spotted all of 3 of his siblings standing in front of the kitchen table, smiling wildly at him.

He raised a brow, more than suspicious. “What are you-?”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” they all yelled, giggling and moving out of the way to reveal a messily iced tray of, what he assumed were, brownies. Candles were sticking out of them, and Martha was quick to grab up the lighter to get them all lit up. They continued to sing, clapping, as Sam came around to shove him toward the table.

The brownies themselves were very underbaked, the batter warm and a bit crunchy from where they probably hadn’t stirred it around enough.

They were perfect.

It was gooey with admiration, the chocolate on his tongue sweet with gratitude, easily putting the stress of the day to bed as everyone’s hands became sticky, eating right from the pan around the table.

Back when Hatter was still young and naive enough to be roped into going to Town Events, he’d volunteered to bring something to a potluck. It was supposed to be celebrating someone’s grand opening of a shoppe that was no longer there on the lake side. He’d brought pastries that everyone had said he should start selling.

And since he was there, he’d gotten himself a plate. Everything was fine, if a bit cold. It was a plate of crowd pleasers.

Then he had tried the mashed potatoes and nearly spit them back out on his plate.

“David?” Martha, who had been sitting beside him and heard the grunt he’d let out, eyed him with wide eyes. “Are you alright? Are you choking?”

She’d started to get up but he put his hand out to stop her, head shaking.

What he tasted, behind the salt and butter and softened starch, was utter despair. He was only a few years deep in deciding to study kitchen witchery so he knew that it was only because of how strong the reagent was that he could taste it so viscerally on his tongue. It stung, tears springing to his eyes.

He choked the bite down, letting it permeate his stomach. A cold pit sinking to the bottom.

“Who made these?” he asked, pointing his spoon at the lump still on his plate.

“Oh, Shelley!” Mrs. Adams smiled, pointing over to where her daughter was getting something to drink. “Aren’t they wonderful?”

Hatter had nodded, but had to artfully throw them away without anyone noticing.

Whenever Shelley would come into the shoppe Hatter made an effort to talk to her. Not to pry, just to gauge. She did not seem sad. He figured it may have just been a bad night.

Eventually he found her one evening in the corner of the shoppe, asleep. He woke her up with a cup of tea and an offer to talk. And she did, holding tight to the warm mug as she cried, explaining how she didn’t feel very good on any given day. Hatter walked her home, saying she could come back at any time. And she did until better help could be found.

The shoppe had not seen David Hatter for a week and people had started to get worried.

“Don’t worry!” Sam told them as he passed through to get up to the flat. “He’s just sick is all. Wouldn’t want that in your tea now would you?”

Everyone left it alone after this.

“David,” Sam poked him awake one afternoon. “Come on, I’ve got dinner.”

He grunted, turning over from where he’d buried himself under the blankets. Sam was holding a tray with a bowl and a large slice of bread, smiling at him. “Mrs. Sherman made it for you.”

Hatter managed to sit up enough for Sam to put the tray on his lap. He went back to the kitchen to fetch a bowl of his own, climbing up on the bed to eat with Hatter as he rambled on about his day.

It was a simple chicken noodle soup, but Hatter could taste the well wishes in every bite.

He was back on his feet the next afternoon.

Martha had insisted he come up to have dinner with them on Christmas, saying that he couldn’t possibly be expecting to open the shoppe that day and even if he did no one was going to even come in.

“Come on, David! I’m cooking!”

He’d snorted. “Is that supposed to make me want to go?”

He did go. Because she asked him to, not because she was cooking.

It looked like a nice spread, something she had no doubt spent a long time on to make sure it was all picture perfect. The dishes were complex, things he’d never known her to like but he knew she wanted to impress her husband’s family that were there. Unfortunately, all he could taste was her stress.

He’d picked at his plate when he glanced over at the table set up in the living room where all the kids had been confined to. The lucky lot had all the good stuff. Mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, green beans, and chicken.

Hatter had excused himself. No one noticed.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, plopping down in between his niece and nephew. The kids all looked over to the adults who were nodding along to something one of the husbands was saying, drinking their wine. At their confused expressions being pointed at him he leaned in to whisper, “Don’t tell them, but I think this table seems more fun.”

They’d all giggled, thinking they’d just been let in on the best secret. It was sort of the truth, actually, as he found himself eating food that tasted much more loving and listened to everyone tell him what they’d gotten for Christmas.

He had been dating this woman. Her name was Rachel. He had liked her since high school when she had kissed him at a party. Nothing had ever happened between them because his mother had died and she had been off to university across the country. She had been nothing more than a fond memory.

Until she came back into town.

He noticed something was up when people kept looking at him in the shoppe from their tables, whispering to their friends. It was especially bad when some would look in through the window, only running off when he would notice them. It was like they were waiting for something to happen, only he didn’t know what.

Until she was standing at the counter, same smile, different hair style, and he had stood there staring at her, spell broken by someone from the back of the line saying, “What’s the hold up?”

After he took her order, got her the coffee, and wished her a good day, she’d asked him on a date. He accepted.

The first night he stayed over she made him blueberry pancakes. They were fluffy and sweet, tasted of her giddy affection. He ate a plateful. He did the same thing every morning when he stayed at her place.

One morning, 5 months later, he sat down and ate his first bite of pancake, expecting that familiar flavor. Instead they were bitter. Guilt riddled and, quite frankly, horrible. Hatter looked up from his plate at her and Rachel was staring off into space, deep in thought about something.

“Rachel,” he said, setting down his fork. Her attention snapped to him. “What’s wrong?"

She broke down into tears, admitting that she’d cheated on him.

He had pulled over, on his way home from visiting Sam in London, for food. The only place for a good stretch of the road was a sandwich shoppe.

Inside there was no one but him and the older women on the other side of the counter. She smiled, told him to have a seat, didn’t even let him order before she was back in the kitchen. He did what he was told.

A half hour later she emerged, setting a sandwich with chips down in front of him.

“Eat,” she told him. “Eat!”

Again, he did as he was told.

Hands down, best sandwich he’d ever had. It was gone in a fourth of the time it’d taken her to make it. The chips followed down the hatch shortly after. He was full and yet felt better than he had since he’d left Swynlake a few days ago. The trip, while nice, had left him tired.

“Get what you needed, love?” the woman asked, picking up his plate. It was only then that he recognized the magic brimming around her, senses rejuvenated. She winked at him. “You’ve still got a ways to go, don’t you?”

He couldn’t help the warmth that spread over his cheeks, embarrassed that she had somehow seen right through him. “Uh, yes. Yes, I do, ma’am.”

“Well I hope you got what you needed here.”

He paid and left, thinking about the sandwich his whole way home.

Winter had settled in over Swynlake in the bitterest of ways. Snow had yet to fall but the wind had kept a sweeping surety that anyone’s usual pleasant walk across town would be nothing short of miserable.

It was one of the times he was thankful to have sold the house, his kitchen and bed only a flight of stairs away.

It had been a busy day, everyone coming in to either take refuge from the cold or to take something warm with them to have on their journey through it.

Alice had come in that afternoon after school and he’d go to her table with a replacement cup of tea in between rushes.

At the end of the say, when everyone else had gone and the shoppe had closed, she was still there. He didn’t say anything, just cleaned up and closed out., though there was an obvious tension of when he was going to kick her out.

Maybe a few years ago he would have, back when he had drawn a line and promised not to cross it. But it was too late for that now.

He approached the table, impending doom seemingly settling in, and asked, “Are you hungry?”

They cooked it together, him confining her jobs to the little things and nowhere near any knives. Curry was easy, the ingredients already in his cabinets, a seemingly random assortment. Together they make something out of nothing, jokes and laughter shared along the way.

It was nothing special. Or rather, it was supposed to be nothing special. It was probably the first time since he became a kitchen witch that he realized that all meals were, especially ones like these. Food had always been some form of care but he never knew how much it was until he had the kid across from him eating her fill. He wanted her to be happy and healthy. It’s why he had invited her into his kitchen, wasn’t it? A place only his siblings had ever crossed into before.

10.

“David! Look what I found!”

Everyone looked up from where they were sitting at the table, Hatter and his siblings all having come together on the night of Sam’s wedding. He was having it in Swynlake for some reason Hatter couldn’t understand and one by one they had returned to the flat they had called home.

She hurried over, placing an old piece of paper on the table. “It’s mum’s recipe for Saimin!”

“What? No way, she always said there was no need for one of those,” Martha said, snatching up the paper. “Oh my god, no way! She must have written it down before she died.”

They all turned their head to look at the eldest, who was taking a sip of tea. His eyebrows rose from behind the mug. “What’re you all gawkin’ at?”

“Well obviously you’ve got to cook it,” Sam scoffed, pulling the paper from Martha’s hands and sliding it over to him.

“Yeah, David! I can’t believe you hadn’t found it before.”

He hummed.

Truth was, he had known about that recipe for years now. It had been sitting pressed between the pages of their mother’s old sketchbooks. She had wanted them to have the recipe, angry with herself for never having taught any of them.

“We already had dinner,” he reminded them. The rehearsal dinner was technically still going on downstairs, the last of the crowd still lingering around with their wine glasses.

“The day after the wedding, then,” Sam said. “It can be my wedding present!”

“Come on, David,” Anna pleaded. “We haven’t had it since she died.”

“Not the good stuff, anyway,” Martha agreed.

“Fine,” he said like it was the worst chore in the world he had undertaken for them. And maybe it was. The thought of making her food without her there, of them tasting his food and saying that it didn’t taste the same.

The day after the wedding Hatter had a pretty bad hangover, as did all the other Hatter siblings, but he got up that afternoon to get started. He stepped into the kitchen and felt it come alive under his finger tips.

They all joined him that evening, Sam’s wife in tow this time, and ate together for the first time in a long time.

Hatter waited before taking his first bite, watching everyone else with baited breath.

Martha’s eyes lit up, smile making the apples of her cheeks round. Sam sat staring into his bowl, eyes getting a bit watery. Anna reached over to punch his shoulder.

“It’s just like hers!” she laughed. “I knew that specialty of yours would come in handy one day.”

Everyone began chattering, recalling memories of their mother, laughing and sighing and carrying on.

Hatter took a bite and it did taste like his mum’s. It tasted like his grandfather’s too and his mother’s before him and so on and so forth. It tasted like generations of familiarity, of children sitting around the table, waiting for dinner to be ready as their parents prepared it for them, wanting them to have a warm meal together. It tasted like sharing, how Sam was holding Veronica’s hand in his as he gave this piece of his history with her, and how his great-great-great aunt had made it with her husband, too, in an effort to show how much she trusted him.

It tasted like love, the same way it had tasted that night he had ate the last of his mother’s broth, alone at the table, thinking he had lost her when she had been there the whole time.

#swynwrimo

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