#sure! vanilla extract on the wall why not

[dragonomatopoeia]

octopath 2 is just. chock full of creepypasta content huh.

[jillsandwhichs]

RE Character x Reader Smutshot Collection , Chap 6 , Time crunch

Masterlist

Pairing: F!reader x Ada Wong

Summary: Ada is about to leave from the extraction point in 10 minutes. That gives you just enough time to say goodbye

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Partners in crime

WC: 2.1k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: This is very vanilla, sorry y'all. Hookup, making out, slight dirty talk & oral sex (You receive)

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

Silence.

It felt awkward.

The two of you just shared a very steamy kiss.

Yes, the two of you have fucked before, but never on the job, you kept it strictly professional when working, it was just a code you both lived by.

But knowing she'll be gone for awhile after these final ten minutes, neither of you can hold yourselves back, especially yourself. Ada, despite her many flaws, means a lot to you. You've both formed a bond due to your similar interests in life and work, even sexual interests. Ada is a mysterious lady, but that hasn't stopped her from allowing you to at least explore her body, in which you've done quite a bit.

You've been working together for a year now, exactly a year one month ago. Ever since, you two have always chosen each other for missions. You're both reliable and make sure the other escapes, even if your guy's selfishness begins to interfere. Ada has had to save your ass more than you have had to hers but either way, you both are there for each other. Ada was much more hardened when you first met, she's softened up somewhat now.

"How long?" "How long what?" "How long will you be gone for, Ada?" You wondered, crossing your arms and walking back and forth. You'd be alone from now on. Where was she even going and why? "Just a couple of months. I have some unfinished business to attend down in China, you understand?" Ada hummed to you. Ada was leaning against the brick wall, her thin arms at her slender sides. You do understand. She has work, and sometimes work requires you to travel.

Gazing at her, you thought about the kiss you two had just exchanged. It was hot. It was erotic. Kissing for you two is the ultimate form of intimacy. You two tend to get very touchy whenever you kiss or make out, you can't help yourselves. "I hate to say it, but, It'll be difficult without you." You admitted, your tone very low, almost as if you didn't want her to catch onto what you said. "I understand. If it makes you feel better, this won't be the last time you see me. I plan to even remain in contact with you while I am overseas." Ada also admitted something.

Her words meant a lot.

It's not like she owes you that though. You two aren't in a relationship. You two hookup, it feels good, it's nice, that's it, it isn't anything more. But, it almost seems hard to avoid one another. Ada is a drug, morphine to you. You need that woman in your system at least once within the day. Just being around her causes arousal to stir up inside of you. Every single time you both finish a mission, you guys meet up and fuck. It's a ritual at this point.

You stood there, your head tilted down, your eyes glancing at the muddy ground. It had rained not to long ago. You and Ada were slightly wet from it, but it's dried up for the most part - In some places... You looked back up at Ada, she was gazing at you with a soft look. You began to amble closer to her, your heart thumping repeatedly in your chest as you did. Oddly enough, you felt nervous this singular time when approaching her. "I want you... For one last time." You whispered, your front finally pressed up against hers.

"You may have me for one final time." Ada bit her lower lip, it was tinted a darker shade of red, her lipstick was always an attraction.

You cupped her face in your hands, aggressively, yet passionately, pressing your lips against hers. Your lips moved in sync, it was rather beautiful actually. Ada's miniscule hands encased around your back, making sure you weren't going nowhere. She held you, her hands stroking your entire time. Her touch felt like a thousand suns. You'd miss it so very much. You are sure it won't be the last time you feel her - It can't be the last time.

Ada licked your lower lip, desperately wanting to taste you. She couldn't live without kissing you, kissing you with her tongue. Your mouth is a safe haven for her. Your mouth went slightly agape, and her tongue slipped into your mouth, an honest moan coming from her when she pushed it in. "Fuck." You grunted, your bodies flipping so that you were now against the cold, hard, red brick wall. Both of you are switches at the end of the day.

"I wanna taste you." Ada mumbled, her lips finally detaching from yours. You were panting, trying to catch your breath. Her seductive tone was enough to have your panties soaked and your pussy wanting her even more. Ada has a way with words.

You smiled at her, your head diving into the crook of her neck. Your lips found her sweet spot, and you took advantage of that. You pecked all along her neck, your breath sharp as you breathed in. Her scent was lovely too, she smelt like Vanilla and that was very sexy to you. Maybe she knew that because anytime you hookup, its what she smells like. It drives you crazy. "You want to taste me?" You cooed on her throat. "You know I do, honey." Ada responded truthfully.

That just made you drip more.

Adas eyes locked with yours as she moderately lowered her body until her face was at an alignment with your core, a look of need was on her face. Disbanding the eye contact, she gandered at your jeans and the buttons on them as she began to undo them, wanting you terribly now. "We have to be quick." "I know." You replied. It seriously sucks that she'll be going away for some time. You'll miss the way her firm tongue feels on your pussy.

Her lean fingers pulled your pants down with haste, your damp panties directly in her face. "I can already smell you." She sighed softly, breathing it all in. You moaned softly. You didn't know where to set your hands, she hasn't eaten you out in this position before. "My shoulders baby." She cooed, as if she could read your mind. Obliging, you placed your hands on her slender, boney shoulders; The stability will come into use later.

With your hands on her shoulders, her hands went to your panties, tearing them off of you as quickly as she could. Your soaked cunt was revealed to her alas. The cold, windy air hit you like a bullet, causing you to shiver. "I'll warm you up." She teased right before she buried her face in your cunt, her tongue profusely lapping at your wet folds. "Oh." You whimpered in surprise, shocked that she so soonly began to eat you out like it was the last time she ever would.

Maybe it is.

Your head leaned back against the wall, your hair already becoming a mess. The brick wall was cold on your rear, the texture of it wasn't the best either but you'd endure it just for this. "Fucking hell..." You panted, her tongue was going mad on you. Adas eyes were closed. It seemed as though she was channeling everything inside of her to make you feel good, which was clearly worked. Your legs already felt wobbly. You felt like you could fall at any second, you held onto her tighter.

The lewd noises that were being made only enhanced the sexual pleasure Ada was making you feel. That extraordinary pit in your stomach - The one that lets you know your orgasm is about to rush over you, was slowly yet surely taking over.

As she continued, Ada began to adjust your legs to be sat on her shoulders. You helped, shifting them and blowing out deeply as you felt the comfortability of it. It felt way better this way. You began to moan much more loudly, Adas tongue causing your muscles to tighten inside of you. It was hard not to, but you began to practically ride her face. You grinded your pussy up against her mouth. She didn't seem to mind, if anything, she reveled in it.

"Faster." She spat out, her nails digging into your plump thighs. Another thing about Ada is that she worships your body, especially your thighs. She'll stare at you and get horny. There is just something about you that does that to her.

Listening, you began to ride her face quicker. Your movements were sloppy but you didn't care, just as long as she was licking you, tasting you and making you feel pleased. "Oh Ada..." You let out a sharp breath. Your hands ran through her jet black hair, it was soft, healthy, easy to tug on - Which you did. "Right there, that's it." You whined. Her tonuge on your clit was exactly what you needed. The sensitive bud needed to be focused on.

She suctioned your clit between her lips, slurping on it. You slammed your head back, your back arching too, you were going to cum on her tonuge.

"Oh..."

Your orgasm flew over you. Suddenly, the crisp air made your nipples hard and your body to shake slightly, that was due to it mixing with your climax. You rode her face for a few more seconds and then you pulled away, pushing yourself up against the wall. You were still dripping, your wetness with the mixture of your squirt dripped onto the ground. Ada stood up, maintaining her gaze on you as she did.

Wiping her mouth as well, Ada spoke up.

"You tasted amazing." She said softly, stumbling over to you. You just giggled, your vision still felt hazy, you were a bit out of it, that's for sure. You stared at her for a moment. You wish you two could have more time together, you wonder if you have enough time to at least eat her out as well. Probably not. She's a very coordinated lady, she'll want to get out of her the second the correct time strikes the clock.

You pulled your panties up and then your pants, you rebuttoned them up too. You didn't want to look like a mess when it is time to go, your boss will be concerned. "Do you think we'll have time to-" "No. Two minutes until I must leave." Ada interrupted you. She just didn't want you to get your hopes up for disappointment. For some reason, you're upset. You don't care for Ada a whole lot as a person, you guys are simply forced to team up. That doesn't mean you don't care at all. A part of you is going to miss her.

As Ada was letting her eyes roam around as she waited patiently, you grabbed onto her, pouncing your lips onto hers. She gasped but quickly melted at the gesture. She swathed her arms around your neck, her fingers messing with your tied back hair. "This is my goodbye to you." You hummed, your tongue slithering along hers; The texture of it turned you on once again. "This is a good farewell then." She smiled into the kiss. Not your average smile though, very small and barely noticeable.

You slid your hands down her back and onto her ass, holding it in both hands. You squeezed her, a sigh coming from her. "I won't be gone too long." "A couple months is long, Ada." You stated. You found it to be too damn long. No one will suffice like Ada does. "You'll be fine." She cupped your face, her thumbs caressing both sides of your cheeks before she finally had to pull away, her watch buzzing.

"Gotta go."

Her hands were in yours. You wanted to homd onto her as long as possible but she backed and backed away slowly til eventually, your hand dropped from hers.

"So long, beautiful." She winked as she tilted her head before she randomly used her grappling hook to sail away. You could hear what seemed to be a helicopter in the distance, most likely her getaway vehicle. You stood there in silence, all that could be heard was that motor and your soft, calm breathing. All you can think about is how much things will be different. You'll either be alone or with a new partner, both options don't sound pleasant whatsoever.

You blew out a deep breath, collecting yourself.

"Time to go home." You whispered before you began to run off, the events of tonight on repeat in your head.

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

9 Days of Solomon: Snow

Solomon x GN! reader

Summary: You and Solomon make cookies when the first snowfall hits.

AN: Ironically, it's been cold and snowing on and off all day today. So, pretty fitting if you ask me! :)

Warnings: None

It was a cold night in the Devildom, too cold to go out and do anything, so you and Solomon settled on making some cookies to keep yourselves busy. The kitchen was warm from the preheating oven, while the rest of Cocytus Hall held fires within some of its hearths to battle the cold from creeping in. 

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Solomon starts again as you hear him tossing another handful of chocolate chips into his open mouth. “Because from over here, it looks like you’re struggling.” 

You’re not. You are not struggling at all, actually. He knew you weren’t struggling either, but it seemed he was determined to get you to let him help you in some manner. 

Taking a glance over your shoulder, you note Solomon behind you, still leaning against the counters that line the wall right where you had directed him to stand until told otherwise. He seems to be behaving himself, minus getting into the chip bag prematurely, but you figured it’s a small price to pay as long as he doesn’t assist with the actual making of the dough. 

You chuckle while shaking your head, returning your attention back to the bowl. “I don’t need any help, thank you.” You crack an egg against the island top and plop the yolk into the dry ingredients. “Though you are doing a solid job at eating our chocolate chips. Our only bag, mind you.” 

The sorcerer chuckles with you. “It’s better than just standing here, isn’t it?” You can tell by how his last few words sound that he’d put another handful into his mouth. 

“Solomon, no more. You’re going to eat them all at this rate.” 

A little sigh comes from behind you, and the bag rattles slightly as he sets it down on the counter. 

“You’re no fun.” 

A grin lifts the corners of your lips as you roll your eyes. A second egg is cracked and dropped into the bowl, along with a splash of vanilla extract. Your eyes peer down into the bowl, seeing all the ingredients but the chocolate chips present. With careful hands, you grab the bowl and a wooden spoon, and turn around to Solomon. 

“If you want to do something so badly, you can stir. But DON’T do anything else. Okay?” You offer him a sweet smile as you hand him the bowl and spoon, which he happily takes. 

“Of course. You don’t need to worry about me.” He gives you a little wink in return as he sets on stirring the mixture together. Nothing should happen… as long as you keep your eyes on him. 

He’s a bit sloppy with the stirring – his dominant hand seemingly uncoordinated with the spoon as he holds the bowl awkwardly in the crook of his arm. You cringe a little at the sight of the flour being kicked up to the edge of the bowl while small hints float to the ground next to his feet, adorned in the fuzzy socks you picked out for him. But he’s trying. 

Your eyes slowly trail up his form from the flour on the floor, admiring how cute he looks in his socks and pajamas. You were dressed similarly, the two of you opting to match in warm pjs to fight the cold and to look “stylish as you baked.” …His words. 

Solomon flicks his concentrated eyes up to you, feeling your gaze lingering on him. “You’re staring.” 

“Like you weren’t doing the same as I put the ingredients together?” You chuckle softly with a shrug. “You just look cute like this.” 

Solomon’s cheeks light up in a soft pink and he makes sure to keep his eyes locked on the bowl he’s stirring in, not wanting to meet yours while he’s blushing. “Oh… well, thank you. I think you look cute all the time.” 

You give a soft chuckle, feeling your own blush creep on your cheeks. It’s quiet for a few moments as Solomon’s stirring slows once the batter begins to thicken. This is mostly why you gave him this job. Thickened dough is like stirring cement and puts a beating on the arm. Plus, it made him feel like he was contributing, so win-win. 

The sound of the wind catches your attention, and you feel glad to be inside where it’s warm and cozy. You glance to the window in the kitchen, seeing flurries of something flying by. Your eyes widen as you realize what it is. 

You gasp softly, “Solomon, it’s snowing!” 

“Hm?” Solomon looks away from his work and towards the window you’re staring at. “Oh, look at that. The first snow of the year- Hey! Wait!” 

You’re already rushing out of the kitchen, wanting a personal view of the first snowfall. Your quickened steps are silent from the fuzzy socks that hold your feet snuggly as you run to the front door. The sound of Solomon hurrying to set the bowl down is heard, his own muffled feet racing to catch up to you as he calls out your name. With a yank, the door swings open allowing you to hurry under the little awning over the entrance. 

Instantly, you’re met with a biting cold that invades the warmth of your pajamas and sends a shiver down your spine and goosebumps to rise. You should go inside, but the vision of white flecks pouring from the sky is too pretty to take your eyes off of, especially in the natural darkness of the Devildom. Something about it is magical. Perhaps it’s the light from the large moon glistening along the skiff that lays on the ground or the deafening silence that engulfs the scene and challenges the mind into wondering if it is truly snowing. 

The door creaks further behind you, the soft pad of footsteps can hardly be heard shuffling closer to you until you feel something touch your shoulders. You tear your eyes away from the falling snow to the black fabric that hangs from your body. It’s Solomon’s coat, running its black to blue gradient towards your legs like it does when he wears it. You can even smell his familiar cologne enveloping your nostrils. 

“What were you thinking? It’s too cold to go out like this.” Solomon gently scolds, reminding you slightly of a concerned mother. 

“I’m sorry. I wanted to see the snow for myself.” 

You smile sheepishly as he comes to stand beside you under the awning, his gaze moving from you to the snow that appears to be falling harder by the minute. It seems that he, too, is entranced by the beauty of this moment. The both of you stand silently together, enjoying the tranquility of the night.

“It is a beautiful sight. And I’m glad it’s one I can share with you.” A warm hand brushes against your cold one, and he takes it, interlocking his fingers with yours. At the feel of your frigid skin, Solomon pulls you closer to him, grabbing your other hand as he eyes you with worry. “Your hands are cold.” 

He lifts your hands up to his mouth, his own cradling yours to blow warm air on them. He does this another time before placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. “Let’s go inside. We can finish making our cookies and we can eat them as we watch the snow fall safely from the window.” A small grin plays on his lips. “What do you think?”

You nod. “Sounds good. As long as I can spend time with you.” 

Leaning forward, you place a soft kiss on his lips before pulling away after a few moments. Both of you have goofy smiles and reddened cheeks, from both the cold and the kiss, as Solomon guides you back inside to finish your evening with warmth and love. 

[lifeofpriya]

The Trendy Dessert - Jack Draper

[gif credit goes to @athletic-collection]

summary: jack ft. andy + baking = ...unique experience

"Why do I feel like something chaotic is going to happen?" Andy shook his head, his eyes warily staring at Jack through his phone screen.

"Have faith in me, Murr, I've got this," Jack replied with a wink, his hand hovering over the ingredients scattered on the kitchen counter. The camera angle shifted as he grabbed the salt, pouring a mountainous pile into the mixing bowl. "It's all about balance, right?"

Andy's eyes widened as he watched in horror from the other end of the call. "Jack, no, that's way too much salt!" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of amusement and panic.

"Salt? I'm pretty sure this is sugar," Jack said, his eyebrows quizzically knitted together as he held up the salt container. "I know what I'm doing, Andy. Chill."

"Why don't you give the dough a little taste if you know what you're doing?" Andy couldn't help but smirk, his skepticism growing with every second that passed.

Unfazed by the challenge, Jack scooped up a bit of the cookie dough with his finger and popped it into his mouth. The moment the salty taste hit his tongue, his eyes bulged, and he spat it out dramatically. "Bloody hell, that's salt!" he coughed, reaching for a glass of water.

"I told you so," Andy laughed, clapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound. "What's your plan now, Gordon Ramsay?"

Jack's face flushed red as he frantically searched the kitchen for a solution. His eyes darted around the room before landing on the untouched bag of chocolate chips. "More chocolate!" he exclaimed, dumping the entire bag into the salty dough. "It'll mask the taste."

Andy, still chuckling, leaned closer to the screen. "Jack, that's not how it works. You can't just add more chocolate to fix saltiness."

Jack paused, the spoon hovering in midair as the gravity of the situation settled in. He looked at the cookie dough, now speckled with an obscene amount of chocolate chips, and sighed. "I suppose not." He glanced around the kitchen, spotting a bottle of vanilla extract. "What about this? Can I add more vanilla to balance it out?"

Andy's smile grew wider, his amusement evident through the phone. "Jack, that's not how it works either. You need to start over or add something to soak up the salt. Maybe some more flour?"

Jack scrunched his nose, his mind racing. He didn't want to admit defeat so quickly, especially after the promise he'd made to you. He looked at the clock on the wall; time was running out. You were due back in less than an hour, and he needed to pull off this surprise. He grabbed the flour, dumping in a cupful with a hopeful look on his face. The dough looked more like a sad, gooey mess than cookie dough now.

"Andy, I can't just start over. Y/N will be home soon," Jack whispered urgently, as if you could hear him through the phone. "I need a miracle here."

Andy leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Okay, okay. But this is your last shot. If this doesn't work, you're going to have to face the music."

Jack nodded, desperation etched into every line of his face. He took a deep breath and mixed the flour into the dough, his muscles straining as he tried to salvage the disaster before you arrived. The mixture thickened, but the salty taste remained. "It's still salty," he murmured, licking his lips to confirm his suspicion.

"What now?" he asked, his voice tight with anxiety.

Andy leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Well, if you don't want to start over, we need to think outside the box."

Jack nodded, his eyes searching the kitchen for inspiration. "What do you suggest?"

Andy's eyes lit up with a devious glint. "How about you make it a salted chocolate cookie? It's a thing, you know. Some people actually like that combination."

Jack stared at him, unconvinced. "Salted chocolate cookies? That's not what I was going for."

"But it's a trendy twist, Jack. Trust me, it could work," Andy said, his voice a mix of hope and amusement. "Just roll with it. What's the worst that could happen?"

Jack, desperation creeping into his voice, considered the option. "Alright, fine. How do I make it seem like I did it on purpose?"

Andy's grin widened. "Easy. Just add some more salt to the tops of the cookies before you bake them. Make it obvious. You know, like a gourmet chef."

Jack stared at the phone, then back at the dough, then at the salt shaker. He took a deep breath and shrugged. "In for a penny, in for a pound," he muttered to himself, sprinkling a pinch of salt on top of each cookie before placing them on the baking sheet. He slid the tray into the preheated oven and set the timer, his heart racing. The sweet aroma of chocolate began to fill the kitchen, mingling with the faint scent of the sea.

As the cookies baked, Jack paced the floor, biting his nails. He couldn't believe he'd messed up so badly. Ever since he'd teased you with the idea of a surprise, you'd been looking forward to these all week. He hoped against hope that this crazy plan would work. The timer dinged, and he rushed to the oven, pulling out the tray with oven mitts. The cookies looked… interesting. They were a little flatter than usual, with a glossy sheen from the extra chocolate and a sprinkle of salt on each one. He let them cool, trying to convince himself that they would be a delightful surprise.

Andy watched him through the phone, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Well, they look… different," he said, trying to be supportive.

Jack rolled his eyes but couldn't help but laugh at his own misfortune. "Yeah, different is one way to put it." He took a cookie, still warm from the oven, and broke it in half, the chocolate oozing out like molten lava. He took a tentative bite, the salty-sweetness peculiarly hitting his taste buds. He chewed thoughtfully, trying to gauge whether it was edible or not.

"They're… interesting," he said, trying to keep a straight face. The saltiness was definitely more pronounced than he would have liked, but the chocolate did temper it somewhat. "I mean, they're not terrible."

Andy's chuckles turned into full-blown laughter. "Well, that's a ringing endorsement."

Jack shrugged, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "Look, they're not perfect, but they're not inedible. I'll just have to play it cool."

Andy nodded, his laughter subsiding. "Alright, just be prepared for Y/N's reaction. You never know, Y/N might actually like them."

Jack sighed, hope flickering in his eyes. "Yeah, maybe. I'll just have to play it cool." He carefully placed the cookies on a plate, arranging them to look as presentable as possible. He slid the plate onto the kitchen counter, just as the front door creaked open. Your footsteps grew louder as you approached the kitchen, the scent of rain and the outdoors wafting in.

Jack's heart thudded in his chest, his palms sweaty. He took a deep breath and plastered on a confident smile, turning to face you. "Welcome home!" he exclaimed, trying to sound casual despite the chaos in his head.

You looked tired but happy, your eyes lighting up at the sight of the cookies. "Jack, you made cookies?" you asked, stepping closer to the counter.

Jack nodded, his smile a tad too bright. "Yeah, I had some free time, so I thought I'd whip up a little surprise for you." He hoped you wouldn't notice the nervousness in his voice.

You leaned in, inhaling the aroma deeply. "They smell amazing," you said, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Jack's heart skipped a beat. "Here, try one," he offered, pushing the plate closer to you. As you selected a cookie, he watched with bated breath, the salt glinting under the kitchen lights like tiny stars.

You took a bite, your eyes widening slightly. The crunch of the cookie filled the air, followed by the sound of your chewing. For a moment, Jack was sure you'd spit it out, but then your eyes lit up, and you swallowed. "Wow, these are… intense," you said, your voice filled with a mix of surprise and delight.

Jack's shoulders relaxed a fraction. "Intense, huh?" he echoed, trying to sound nonchalant.

You nodded, taking another bite. "They're definitely unique. The salt and chocolate, it's an interesting combo." You studied the cookie, the wheels in your head turning. "Did you add something extra to these?"

Jack tried to play it cool, his heart hammering in his chest. "Just a little twist," he said with a casual shrug. "Thought I'd try something new."

You tilted your head, eyeing him curiously. "Well, you've definitely achieved that," you said, taking another bite. The cookie crumbled in your mouth, the saltiness and sweetness fighting for dominance. It was peculiar, but somehow it worked. You chewed thoughtfully, the flavors blending together in a surprisingly pleasant way. "They're… good," you finally exclaimed, reaching for another. "Really good."

Jack's relief was palpable, his shoulders dropping as a genuine smile spread across his face. "You think so?"

You nodded, savoring the unexpected taste. "Yeah, they're like salted caramel but with chocolate chips. I've never had anything quite like this before."

Jack's eyes lit up with hope. "So, you don't hate them?"

You laughed, taking another cookie. "No, I don't hate them at all. They're actually pretty good." You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But you have to tell me, how much salt did you really put in?"

Jack's cheeks flushed as he chuckled nervously. "Well, it might have been a bit of an accident," he admitted, watching you closely for a sign of anger or disappointment.

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. "How much is a bit?"

Jack sighed, unable to keep the truth from you any longer. "Okay, maybe a little more than a bit," he confessed, his cheeks growing redder by the second. "But I figured it out. It's the new trend, right? Salted chocolate cookies?"

You studied him, a smirk playing at the corner of your mouth. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

Jack grimaced, his ears reddening. "Andy suggested it. He said it could be a gourmet twist."

You looked at the phone, Andy's face beaming with mischief. "Oh, did he now?" You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head. Well, you two make quite the culinary duo."

Jack groaned, playfully rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I know. It's a miracle these are even edible." He took a cookie for himself, popping it into his mouth and making a dramatic face. "But hey, if you like them, I'll take it as a win."

You chuckled, taking another bite. "They're really not bad, Jack. I mean, they're not your usual amazing, but they're definitely not inedible." You licked the salt from your lips, the salty-sweet combination growing on you. "I have to admit, it's kind of fun to have a surprise that's both delicious and a little… offbeat."

Jack's eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of disappointment. Finding none, he visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping. "Well, if you say so," he said, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I guess I'll take that as a win."

You nodded, the corners of your eyes crinkling with amusement. "Definitely a win. Besides, it's the thought that counts, right?" You leaned in to give him a kiss, the taste of salt and chocolate lingering on your lips. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, his laughter mingling with the sound of rain outside.

Andy, watching from the phone, raised an eyebrow. "Well, I guess I'm not the worst cooking consultant ever," he said smugly.

Jack rolled his eyes but couldn't hide his relief. "Thanks, mate," he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "You're a real lifesaver."

Andy chuckled. "Anytime, Draper. Anytime."

Jack playfully glared at the phone. "Just don't tell anyone about this, alright?"

Andy held up his hand in a Boy Scout salute. "Your secret's safe with me, Cap'n Clumsy."

Jack flipped him off, his smile betraying his true feelings. The tension in the room dissipated as the two of you sat down at the kitchen table, the plate of cookies acting as an awkward centerpiece. You picked up another one, examining the salt crystals sparkling on top. "So, tell me, Jack," you began, your tone teasing, "what inspired this… unique creation?"

Jack's cheeks grew warmer, but he met your gaze with a shrug. "I was just trying to do something nice for you," he said, his voice earnest. "I wanted to surprise you with your favorite cookies. I guess I got a little carried away with the seasoning."

You laughed, reaching over to pat his hand. "It's okay. I appreciate the effort," you said, taking a sip of water to wash down the saltiness. "But maybe next time, you should stick to the recipe."

Jack nodded, his cheeks still aflame. "Definitely. Lesson learned." He took a cookie for himself, trying to seem nonchalant despite the overpowering saltiness. The chocolate was delicious, but the salt was a stark contrast that lingered on his tongue. He made a mental note to invest in a cookbook—or at least some measuring spoons.

As you both sat there, the rain outside grew heavier, creating a soothing backdrop to your quiet evening. The warmth of the kitchen and the aroma of the slightly botched cookies filled the space, creating a cozy atmosphere.

[bakingtherapy]

Briella’s Pantry Baking #5 Chocolate Surprise Cake

Sul Sul, gerbits. I had to show you this conversation I had with my dad earlier this month.

I searched for so long, trying to find a recipe for a beet dessert. I honestly never cared for beets and was concerned about this challenge. But, I decided what the heck. It didn’t cost me anything. My dad sent me the beets and I had the ingredients in the house to make this cake.

But once again, because I am different, I used the mini loaf pans. I don’t know why I love them so much. They are just so easy and cute to use. They are a perfect size for breakfast or a light snack between meals. 

The ingredients you will need in the recipe are:

flour

beets

vegetable oil

5 eggs

baking powder

Cocoa powder

sugar

vanilla extra

a pinch of salt,

the recipe says cocoa powder for dusting, but I used mini chocolate chips and it tasted really good.

The measurements as well as the recipe itself is going to be in the description below. 

Gerbits, you want to preheat your oven 350°. Since the recipe had the cake in a large loaf pan, I was just like, I can just use the mini loaf pans. They can be individual cakes, they are going to be so cute. You are going to grease the pans and lightly dust the pans with flour, and set them aside.

In a bowl mix the dry ingredients together, this includes your flour, baking powder, cocoa powder and salt. That aside for a little bit. 

You are going to puree the beetroot next. Fair warning to all who want to try making this recipe, your hands will get very red at this part. After you make the puree, you are going to add the oil and vanilla extract in a large bowl. Add the eggs one by one, while mixing well after each addition. 

The next thing you are going to do is mix the flour mixture until it is combined. Make sure not to mix. Fold in the chocolate chips.

Fill into the loaf pan or pans and smooth out the surface. Put a chocolate chips on top of each loaf. In case anyone cares, the batter tastes like that of a brownie batter. 

And I mean look at the color of that batter, so pretty. It made me think, maybe in the future this color would be an accent wall.

 If you are using a regular sized loaf pan you are going to bake in the middle of the oven for about 70-75 minutes, checking it after 60 minutes and covering it with aluminum foil in case the case gets too dark. 

However, I did not follow this step because I was using the mini loaf pans. So I baked them for 5 minutes, then switched the top pan to the bottom and baked them for another 5 minutes. Just make sure that if poked with a toothpick it comes out clean.

I think I won this challenge. But, the judge needs to come over here and taste it for himself.

One phone call later 

Okay everyone the moment of truth. Andrew Ponder is going to tell us his thoughts on this chocolate beet cake.

*clears throat*. Well, when you told me that you found a chocolate beet cake I was a little worried about how it was going to taste. However, as you stated yourself, you can’t even taste the beets. The best way to describe the taste of this cake is an earthy brownie. And the chocolate chips on top made them almost taste like those little snack brownies. These were really good, and thank you for accepting your dad’s weird challenge. I will come to you if I have any more challenges like this. Woo! That’s my Brie for you! Making a chocolate cake using beets.

Show the original author some 💖💖💖 Bake to the Roots

Printable version of this recipe: on the blog

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[lotusug]

CHAPTER 2.9.4 A TRIP TO THE BAKERY

The weapon unsheathes without struggle. Everything disappears. The train disappears. The others disappear. You disappear. All that remains is a vision of what’s about to happen, playing out before your eyes.

cw: implied cannibalism

A sudden flash of light appears to all. When the scene comes into view, the light comes from a hanging lamp over a vast, pastel-colored kitchen. Unlike a normal house kitchen, this one was doubled in size and filled with fridges and ovens. The scene pans to a long countertop, where various baking ingredients are laid out neatly. A large mixing bowl, painted sky blue, is filled with white powdery substance. A moment passes, and…

Plop.

A miniature-sized Ezume Ikeda falls in, as if dropped from the sky. They shake the flour off of them as best they can and try to climb out, but they can barely make it past a few inches before sliding down. From the corner of the room, thumping footsteps can be heard. They come closer, and closer, and closer — until someone comes into view. A giant pastry chef, decked in a white apron and frilly blue dress

with a rabbit’s head where a human’s should be.  

Beady red eyes stare down at the bowl before it, and it begins to start… humming. It begins to pour more flour into the bowl gleefully, then sugar — then eggs — then vanilla extract. Ezume slips and slides, caught in the mixture. The rabbit-like chef shoved a hand mixer inside, blending and blending until they became a part of the newly-former dough. 

The humming doesn’t stop, in fact a gentle lullaby begins to play in the background — akin to a music box. Every now and then, a key is slightly off. Or there is a second too long of a pause before the song loops again. 

A ball of dough plops on the counter, rolled into more flour. Ezume’s head pokes through, but their body is no more. Just pastry dough. They aren’t sure what is going on, or why they can’t move, but everyone else can see a metal cookie cutter in the rabbit’s hand. And off the chef goes, molding and shaping. Not long after that, the Ezume-gingerbread-cookie amalgamation is on a baking tray and placed in the oven. 

Luckily, the oven’s walls are thick and heavy. If one listens very closely, they might hear a scream or two. The oven light glows fiery red, and the rabbit watches as its hunched over on the floor. It watches, watches, and watches. Still humming the same tune. 

Suddenly, a sharp ding! rings through the air. The oven tells the rabbit that its cookie is done that way. Immediately, it rushes to the door and pulls out a perfectly-baked gingerbread man. Ezume’s face is no longer there. The chef goes right to the counter and begins decorating with icing and candy. Blue and white for the hair, the clothes, and even for the face. It’s a replica of the real Ezume, but as a cookie.  When the decorating is all done, the rabbit picks up the tray and hurries out of the kitchen. The scene pans to the part of the bakery where customers roam around glass displays. It’s straight out of a cartoon – pastel walls and various baked goods fill the room. Despite how innocent it seems, you know there is something still off. The customers are not human, but their bodies are. Each one has the head of a different animal. Giant heads that speak in grunts and growls. The moment the rabbit pastry chef places the cookie behind a display, a loud yelp can be heard. Emerging from the crowd of patrons is one white fox with a blue dress.

The exchange is so swift, one could’ve almost missed it. The fox hands over a wad of cash to the rabbit, the rabbit serves the cookie in a small box in return. Within milliseconds, the creature rips the box open, picks up the Ezume cookie, and snaps it in half.

Blood begins to drip down from the broken halves. It seeps between the fox’s fingers, and down its palms. It doesn’t seem to care, however, for it snaps up the cookie. 

And just like that – Ezume Ikeda is gone. 

[omnidemidisaster]

Kevin x GN Reader fluff

BTW I don't know how to make a cake from scratch so if measurements are off its on me. Don't try to make a cake without an actual recipe

(Y/f/f) = Your favorite flavor

"Baking Fails"

You both really thought this would be a good idea. You and Kevin thought to bake a cake together as a date. You both got the supply and the ideas on Kevin's open laptop. All you needed was to make a good cake! That should be easy...right?

"Uhm...Hon?" You looked over to see a worried Kevin. "Yea?" "How much oil are we supposed to put in the mix?" You looked on a notebook that had the recipe. "Uhh 1 ½ cups, why?" You suddenly heard Kevin curse under his breath. You immediately knew why. "Kevin...how much did you put in?" He looked at the measurement, having some oil stuck on the glass. "I put in two cups..."

You could tell he was panicking to himself. "Its okay Kevin! I'm hoping its gonna be anyways .." The two of you tried moving on and adding the ingredients. And it went wrong....You accidentally dropped the vanilla extract in the bowl and much much MUCH more poured out then needed.

Kevin added too little sugar and it wasn't found out till it was in the oven. By the time the cake was baking, the kitchen was much more messy than it should be and the two of you were covered in flour ( thanks to Kevin sneezing suddenly and didn't have time to look away )

The two of you sat exhausted on his couch, laughing to each other. "Ya look like you found crushed wall on the floor and rolled in it" You jokingly jabbed at Kevin, earning a chuckle from him. "And you look like you rolled around on the ground of a cocain user" Kevin retorted, shoving you gently.

After 30 minutes of baking, Kevin went to go to the oven to pull out the cake, seeing a dark muddle mess. "Uhm..I'm not expert of food, but this doesn't look right" He said, showing you the dark mess in the pan. You started to laugh. "No shit, that looks like something out of a taco bell restroom"

Kevin laughed, putting the pan down, waiting for it to cool. After a few minutes of cooling, the two of you taste tested it, coughing out a horrible taste that could only be compared to dry mud and stale cat food.

"Holy God this tastes like this" Kevin commented, throwing out the cake with the pan. "Yup...well this was a waste of a friday" You said, putting your head down. "I mean of food sure, but we had fun, right? I know I did" Kevin said, rubbing your back. "I rather be baking horrible dirt cake than deal with work honestly. It was fun! It tastes horrible, but it was fun."

You looked up at him, covered in flour and a smile to complete. "I guess your right. Its just I wanted to actually bake a good cake" You said, looking down. "If you want, we can always try again soon. Besides, I don't care if its good or not, I had fun with you. Thats all that matters" Kevin said, kissing your forehead.

"Cmon, you go take a shower and I'll clean up this mess. I'll order us a cake from that bakery. I'll even get (y/f/f)" Kevin said, starting to clean your the kitchen. "Oh alright. Can we watch a movie too?" You asked, getting up. "Sure, but just one. We still got somethin to do tomorrow" He responded, as you started to go to the bathroom to shower.

Even if you both didn't bake a good cake, it almost didn't matter. It was just the fact you both did something that meant something to the two of you.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

An Angel and A Demon ~ Pyramid Head x Reader

Update 2: My laptop restarted when I was in the middle of writing this, and trust me when I say it, I am positively pissed off, and I want to end my days, that's how bad of a day this was.

And I didn't leave the house.

That says a lot about today...

Update 1: But, without further ado, I was half-way writing this story, and I received this ask, and let me tell you...

helloooo, i absolutely adored the fanfics you wrote about kazan and danny🥺 could i request one where pyramid head is just really whipped for and in love with the survivor! reader but he doesnt know how to announce it to them so he brings her random ,,gifts" in and outside the trials and protecting her bc well, im pretty sure he cant speak so he doesnt really have any other options on how to express his feelings??

I live for it.

Bless you for sending me this, it's the reason I'm still sane right now.

I love you, baby-cakes.

Update 3: I want to kill myself so bad. Just smash my head on a wall until it explodes or sth. I was so happy with how this imagine turned out, only fuck fucking tumblr to just fucking delete EVERYTHING just as I was about to put the last gif and hit POST NOW.

--------

For the 5th time writing this :

FUCKMEDADDY - but this time - FUCKMYBRAINSOUTPLEASEIWANNADIE

Thanks.

-------

Hell - What was that place, anyway?

Some would describe it as an infinite ocean of flames and lava, where it's eternally melting-hot, and a bunch of hooved, horned, tailed red demons torture you with acid, with their red pitch forks, or boil you alive in their cauldron for soup. Or maybe you just get tortured by Stalin, who knows?

But never would have anyone thought that 'Hell' could look so...Normal. Well, normal in a very demolished, desolate, ravished way, but still...Normal, by human standards. Albeit, the never-ending loop of madness, anguish, agony and desperation of getting killed in different gruesome ways or fleeing for their lives and feeling a myriad of emotions pumping adrenaline through their veins so badly that their anxiety-meter skyrocketed to abnormal levels.

All this darkness, this hatred, this...Everything...It changed all the survivors. They became selfish, stubborn, rude, some even went as far as to sacrifice their fellow survivors in trials, just so they could survive. It was a complete mayhem that defied all kinds of reason, normality, morality or even ethics. Everyone became devoid of any laws that used to bind them to their humane sides, and now, you weren't sure if the killers were saner than the survivors or not.

But even in this abyss where you couldn't even see your hand in front of your very eyes, there was a little star - A beautiful angel radiating brightness and warmth, someone who was somehow able to guide everyone's straying souls with her benevolence.

In reality, she was merely a survivor, not the little lantern from an angler fish's head, but she treated everyone with such an untainted kindness...It was beautiful, and yet, unrequited for most parts. Everyone was still putting their own lives above all - And who could condemn them? - Perhaps their cowardice, for the girl preferred to save her fellow survivors as much as possible, even if that oftentimes assured her place on the hook, to be a sacrificial lamb for the Entity.

On the other hand, she rarely ended up on the hook - Most killers prefer to kill her themselves, instead of letting her become pray for the horrible Entity who tortured so many of them for refusing to cooperate - The Trapper, Evan MacMillan - He knew the best, with those hooks digging into his flesh, impossible to extract. He was the first to protect this girl. It wasn't much, but if he had to, he'd rather give her a swift, painless death, than seeing her without that serene, angelic smile on her face, as the Entity feeds on the last bits of her soul's beauty, the last parts of her humanity.

The other Killers were confused at the Trapper's actions, but little by little, they began to understand why this girl was so precious and special - And this domino effect hit Rin Yamaoka next, with Y/N stopping in the middle of a chase and taking off her jacket, just as Rin was about to butcher her with her katana, and she smiled, extending it to her. 'You must be cold' she said, realising that the Spirit was merely wearing a few bandages, not even her school uniform, or her kimono.

The ghost girl was shaken up by this, and told the others at the killer camp, but they just shrugged it off - Rin was a little girl who faced close to no kindness, they weren't surprised she was so taken aback by such a feat. That is, until Adiris, in a particularly terrible day, when everyone at the camp was staying away from her, as her profane censer wasn't able to cover the stench of rotting flesh - Y/N came over, taking out a small yet elegant glass bottle with pink liquid on it, spraying some on her - And now, The Plague smelled of roses and vanilla - 'You can come to me for perfume whenever you want, I always carry some with me!' she grinned at the Babylonian High Priestess, before leaving back to the survivor's camp site, leaving the ancient God symbol to stare with her mouth agape at the girl.

These words began to spread, and it was no surprise when the killers saw Susie clinging and begging her Legion friends to spare Y/N, for she was there to hug away her worries more than once, to tell her sweet words, to play with her hair and play the guitar whatever songs she wanted to hear, to get reminded of her home - She was so home sick that she freaked out, but now she was better, thanks to Y/N - 'I know you miss home, but sometimes, home is where your best friends are, and all three of them are here!' she tried to encourage the cute pink-haired girl who could only squeal and hug her new friend.

Even Ghostface wasn't exempt from falling to her charms, and they would often take silly selfies and mess around, making fun of the old horror movie tropes and doing lots of puns and pranks - So much that she even got his trust to be told about the Danny/Jed thing, and how he began his killer profession - 'You're a very talented photographer, Danny! You deserved all that recognition you got, both as a journalist, and as a killer!'

And very soon, Y/N found herself in the crushing arms of an overprotective Anna, humming her mother's lullaby together with walking through the forest, Y/N making flower crows for all the female killers at the camp site, and little by little, she somehow managed to worm her way under everyone's skins.

Y/N was the survivor with the highest survivability percentage, and maybe the Entity sometimes got pissed off, but at least she still got killed sometimes, so who cares? Well, that was soon to change as soon as a new Killer was added to this sick game - Pyramid Head, the terror of Silent Hill, as Cheryl, the new Survivor, called him - or The Executioner, as he was known now. He was ruthless, merciless, grotesque - He had his own criteria of killing, his own moral compass, ethics, conscience and understanding of the concept of life and death. Nothing that could compare to the visions of humans, clearly - Everything was gravitating around Divine Retribution and Justice, but the from the outside, he was nothing but a killing machine.

He would kill everyone and anyone that crosses his path, without fail.

Y/N felt like her fortune ended completely the second she found herself in the new, overly cramped map, with Pyramid Head as the killer - She couldn't help but run around like a spazzic meerkat, trying to find and fix as many generators as possible, without having to get face to face with the walking hazard...

Only to run past a stuck Pyramid Head.

Slowly backtracing her steps, she saw the mountain of a man with his metal pyramid stuck in the frames a low window which he tried to walk over. He was trashing like a raged bull trying to attack a matador, but it was clear he was getting nowhere with this.

"H-Hey, u-uhm...Need some help?" she asked in a soft, careful voice, almost like a meek cat trying to test the waters, but in return, he started groaning even louder from the wrath he wanted to unleash upon the whole world. "Okay, uhm...I think I saw a can of vaseline in one of the chests around. I'll go fetch it and I'll come back for you. Don't move." she said, only to then realise how horrible that sounded, considering the situation, and it only seemed to anger the killer. "...I'm sorry, ignore me, I'm an idiot." she slapped herself pretty harshly before bolting out of there trying to find the chest.

However, Y/N cursed herself for not having perfectly memorised the whole map by heart already, since she found the vaseline can after the 3rd chest, and then, it took quite a while to find the bloody window that got the killer stuck - And by the time she got there, she was dead tired. "Okay, I'm here, I found the vaseline! Let's try to get you out of here." Y/N muttered as she put her feet on the low window pane to get to his level. "If it's not too much trouble, could you please hold onto me? I can't balance myself with both hands occupied, and I'd rather not fall." she explained as she opened the vaseline can, only to shiver as she felt two big, strong hands getting a firm grip on her hips. It was almost...Endearing, were she not too busy trying to get the killer unstuck. She kept massaging the metal edge, trying to push and pull, also praying to whatever deity that existed in her human world that she had her tetanus shot done on time - Until finally, she was able to get hear a loud screech, like a pop, and the killer got unstuck, and in the process, he stumbled backwards, while Y/N fell down on her butt.

"Ouchie..." she muttered, rubbing her back and sides to take away the pain surging through her body. "Are you okay?" she asked, almost intuitively, without realising it at first, until she heart a low grunt that brought her back to reality. "O-Oh...! You have glass shards stuck in your side! And you're bleeding too! Hold up, let me help." she hurried to his side, while the killer merely stiffened, feeling her delicate, slender fingers tracing his body, while he heaved and slouched his shoulders from the repressed wrath. "It may sting a bit, and I'm really sorry, but I promise it will be better soon." her voice was so motherly and warm, which also resonated in her actions, as she gingerly took a water bottle and imbued some tissues with it, to wipe away the blood smearing down his skin as she extracted the glass shards, and then..."This is grandma's marigold ointment. It's really good, and it smells nice." she explained as she carefully smeared a thick layer of the yellow ointment on the biggest wounds, while the little ones were covered by smiley-flower patterned plasters. They were cute, and colourful, and they never failed to make her smile. "Okay, there we go, all better! I hope you'll feel better very soon!" her voice got a tiny bit more cheerful and upbeat.

It made the Killer think about a trillion things, as he stepped in front of her, towering over her like the Empire states building next to a smiling pomeranian. What was with this girl? Why did she help a killer? And why did he feel so...Warm inside? He could sense a foreign kind of luminosity, a naivite and innocence that he only witnessed in children and animals. This woman in front of him was untainted by the darkness and evil of the world.

It didn't matter how many hardships she's been through, or how much sadness she had to endure - Her soul remained as pure as any snowdrop, as the first snow of winter, as the fleece of a baby lamb who let out its first 'meeeeh' to its mamma sheep.

He couldn't allow this human to be maimed in any way - Not by the world, not by the Entity, and certainly not by him. - Screw the Entity, Pyramind Head kills by his own rules, and now, he was blessed to be faced with a human who bore no real hatred for her peers, or for the world, despite the horrible situation she was thrown into.

He didn't understand, obviously, especially as he remembered the myriad of abominations that lurked through Silent Hill, all of them created by the torment of humans - The very torment that distorted their own reality, which resulted in him needing to solve the purpose as The Executioner - Eradicating the world of all evil.

"Th-This sword is so heavy...H-How can you carry this around like that...?! Your muscles must be so strained and sore...Y-You really need a massage, I'm sure." she stuttered as she tried to lift the much taller and heavier sword from the ground, only for the brute to simply bend and pick it up with extreme ease, putting the girl to shame with her complete lack of strength. "Hehe...You're really strong. I'm embarrassed now." she chuckled softly, scratching the back of her neck.

Before she could leave or do anything else, Pyramid Head picked her up by the throat, careful not to hurt her or restrict her air intake - I mean, how else was he supposed to carry her so he wouldn't hurt her with his metal head or sword? - and it was pretty clear she didn't feel any malevolence from him, as she clinged on his forearm, trying to keep herself up, only to be dumped on top of the hatch, as the killer pointed towards it, so she would leave.

"O-Oh...! Thank you so much! You're really kind! I really appreciate this...I-I know it probably doesn't matter much to you, since you'll be doing this over and over again with all the survivors...But I really appreciate you for your kind gesture, and I appreciate you for being so nice with me. Thank you. Take care!" her dazzling smile lit the whole place up, but he couldn't talk, nor could he tell her how he should be the one thanking her for showing him that, despite the hundreds and thousands of years he had to roam the 'Earth' and execute the injust, miracles still existed.

As soon as she reached the survivor's camp, everyone cheered for her, asking how in the world could she have escaped the wrath of the butcher. "Oh, but he wasn't that bad. In fact, he's much more humane than I anticipated! I think he has a beautiful, blooming heart!" okay, she's lost it - the other survivors thought - but even so, she's always been a bit...Out of it, so who cares?

It took quite a while for the other three survivors to reach the camp, all bloody, in fact, like the new killer, who dragged himself with the same menace to the Killers' camp. "How the hell did you manage to survive?!" they yelled at her in utter shock, seeing that she got out of there unscratched. "Oh, you see...I found the hatch." she shrugged simply, not wanting to give away that the person who massacred those three was a soft one and he basically threw her down the hatch to her safety.

As she took a twig to roast a marshmallows, she noticed how Pyramid Head was standing much farther away from the rest of the killers - She knew that silent killers were bound to stay away from the more obnoxious one, remembering how Michael Myers almost killed Ghostface and The Legion at least a dozen times - But this time...He seemed kinda...Lonely? So Y/N took the matters into her own hands, roasted another marshmallow in another twig, and when it was done, she went to the killer's camp, calling out the lonely one's name - She has no idea why, but he actually followed her, pushing her further deep into the forest, until he was sure nobody was going to hear, see or interrupt them...

"Hey. You seemed pretty lonely out there...I thought you could use a friend. Thank you again for what you did at the trial...Here, this is a marshmallow. I don't think you've had many before...Cheryl told me of that horrible place you had to live in...So I hope this will make your day a bit better!" Y/N extended one of her hands towards him, so he could take the marshmallow - And a long, black tongue erupted from underneath the pyramid, snatching away the fluffy marshmallow and gulping it in one go.

What the hell was he turning into?

A towering man built of pure muscle, wrath and divine justice, with a pyramid representing the evil of humanity burdening his body, and a sword taller and heavier than the average human being constantly dragged in one of his hand...He now was a slave to a cute, innocent girl who was putting flower plasters on his minuscule wounds that would heal in a heartbeat regardless - He saved this girl who was now offering his these soft, squishy things that tasted overly sugarly, just like her upbeat and cheerful personality - If he could eat her, he was sure she would taste even sweeter than this - A sickish kind of sweet, that is.

She was indeed a beautiful angel in this tragic hell. But he didn't wait to snatch the second marshmallow either.

"Ah...! You liked it, didn't you? Well...Next time, I promise I'll give you more!" she grinned at him the same way a princess would to her chivalrous knight who saved her. The since he couldn't talk, silence took over them - It wasn't an uncomfortable one, per se, but it made it feel as if the conversation was over. "W-Well...I'll guess I'll see you around! Take care and I hope to see you again soon!" she waved cutely, trying to turn around back to her camp, only to feel a rough hand on her shoulder, turning her around and urging her to stop and wait for him and he went deep into the forest, leaving her alone and undefended by the potential malevolent forces of the forest.

When he returned, however, he stepped right in front of her, creating the perfect shade as he towered over her - Then he kneeled in front of her, so he would reach her eye sight, then he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and put a beautiful pink flower - As pink as the blush that started creeping on her face - He wanted to see her luminous face better, to highlight her dazzling smile and her glimmering eyes as the warm, silver light of the mother moon caressed her face.

Y/N felt her heart picking up the pace - It was beating so much faster than ever before - But this time, it wasn't out of fear or anything negative...It was something good. Something she never felt in her life, especially with her human acquaintances from back home. None was as chivalrous and gentle with her as this butcher of tormented souls - The bringer of justice, the merciless Executioner who was supposed to end the life of every living being that would cross his path.

It was insane how every Yin finds its Yang, even if that comes in the form of a little lamb of a small, frail girl, and a huge abomination of a brute man who knows nothing but death, bloodshed and carnage. It was truly crazy how opposites attract, and here she was, holding the killers large hands and gingerly putting them on her face, leaning into his touch - She felt safer now than ever in her life - Now, in the arms of an ancient killer.

An Angel and A Demon brought together in a perfect union.

As she leaned down, she touched the metal of the pyramid where she anticipated his forehead would be with her own forehead, and closing her eyes, she finally felt herself calming down. There was no need for words, actions spoke louder than anything, and she appreciated it...She appreciated him.

"Thank you." she whispered to him, knowing that yes, even though nobody else would hear it anyway, it was much more intimate than anything she ever experienced.

She was hooked.

Hope you liked my completely shameless pun, I couldn't stop it, especially after the pain I went through trying to write this...3 freaking times.

Yay.

[darthwheezely]

grande - g.w.

Summary: George meets a mighty adorable barista in the new cafe on Diagon Alley and the man just can’t help himself... based off the song Coffee Girl by Johnny Socko! Sorry this took me absolute ages (9 days oops) to get out, guys :/

Warnings: DIABETIC FLUFF STUPID AMOUNTS OF CARDIAC ARREST INDUCING FLUFF UWU,mentions of sexism, Fred being Fred, cussing probably, alludes to sex, PG/PG-13

taglist or people that might like this but idk: @theweasleyslut @kitwalker02 @loony-loopy-lupinn @wand3ringr0s3 @gcdric @thehufflepuffwife @monoscandal @lupinsclassroom @whiz-bangs78 @vogueweasley @rogueweasleys @band--psycho @lumosandnoxwriting @oh-for-merlins-sake @amxrtentias @virgohufflepuff @vivianweasley

George Weasley didn’t sleep. This had long been the habit of his ever since he and his parents had discovered that his elder twin Fred had been an avid sleepwalker by age 4, then became a (minor) party animal in his Hogwarts days, and finally when he became the co-owner of one of the Wizard World’s most successful entrepreneurs and business owners.

The man hadn’t slept in about 18 years give or take. And days like this reminded him of it constantly.

It was a Saturday, the first of the month, and to boot, it was about to be Christmas in a little over a week. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was packed with everyone from couples window shopping, children in desperate need of fun now that school was out, parents trying to keep them in line, and even some old lady named Ethel (who swore she was part Veela, and therefore Fred couldn’t “escape her girlish charm.”)

“Ethel, you have an absolutely ravishing day, and don’t even worry about that moisturizer it’d be a waste of product on a natural beauty like you” Fred winked and kissed the old lady’s hand, George watching from the top of the steps rolling his eyes.

“Oh, Freddie, you know how to keep a lady young, don’t you? Oh - goodbye, Georgie! Have a good rest of your day boys!” She waved majestically to the younger twin on the stairs and he bowed royally in response.

“Bye, Ethel!” They both called as she exited the building, the bells flurrying in her wake.

“Georgie, mate, hate to say it but you are being uncharacteristically quiet and it’s making me uncharacteristically uncomfortable.” Fred said bounding up the stairs to meet him, chuckling briefly.

“Freddie, mate, hate to say it but I’ve had absolutely no sleep as of late and it’s getting to me. But I’ll be back up to my usual antics in no time.” He padded down the stairs, winking at a couple young ladies ogling him, sending them into a fit of giggles. Fred sat down on the middle step eyeing his brother carefully. It didn’t take a genius to see George wasn’t holding on much longer, the dark circles littering his eyes and the way he mussed up his already purposely messy hair just...didn’t comfort his older twin at all.

“George.” Fred sighed, George looking back at him, confused. He took his hands away from the merchandise Wonder Witch he’d been rearranging and gave him full attention.

“Take your lunch break early. And longer if possible.”

“Pffft, why would I do that when I have women to woo and boxes to juggle?”

“George.”

“Fred.”

“Stop, I mean it. You look half dead as it is, just go take a nap or get an espresso from the cafe down the aisle or something that reinforces the idea that yes, you are a human being and no, not a zombie.” Fred crossed his arms feeling suddenly a lot like Molly and dropped the cross. George pretended to ponder this tapping his chin, rather finding the mature brother role reversal funny as hell.

“Oh, alright, but can I still be a zombie when I get back?”

Fred hit him with a folder and sent him on his way.

-•-•-

You had just finished the lunch rush, finally being able to calm down and not have to worry about making one more goddamn Butterbeer Latte for at least another 20 or so minutes...until there’d be another rush. You grabbed a lemon scone, took off your apron and sat against the back counter. You inhaled the citrus scent, it was always something that you loved to savor, and took a bite.

The holidays for the Merlin’s Mochas, the cafe, had been absolutely atrocious so far. All you had for customers were angry businessmen, bratty kids and their upper class parents who let them run around the already small place being rude to everyone, your boss Lionel who had an affinity for calling every woman who worked there a “bitch” (...ok lionel) and to top it all off: you’d been pulling 9 hour days every day except sundays. Needless to say: you kind of super hated your job.

You had just finished your scone when you heard the door chime signal a customer, immediately wiping your hands on your jeans and restrapping your apron.

“Hi how can I-“ oh Jesus this is the hottest man I have ever seen. He was easily no older than 23, fiery red hair, a perfectly tailored striped terracotta suit, green tie, and the most gorgeous doe brown eyes you’d ever seen.

“How can you...?”

“Help you, ohmygod, I am so sorry I’m super-“

“Tired? Yeah me too...interesting how similar we are this early in the game hmm?” He winked at you and your knees felt too weak. No he was just a stupid hot customer that also was really hot and also? Was super hot. No worries, Y/N, just don’t die by 22 okay thanks.

“Very funny...wait are you-“ your finger led from him to the statue outside Wizard Wheezes, realizing a simple oh shit

“Yeah, that would be me. Or my twin Fred but we never really decided, that’s why he kind of looks like both of us mixed. Although we’re twins so we basically look the same anyway. I mean because were identical. Twins, yeah.” George, what the fuck is wrong with you, why are you sweating? She’s just a simply beautiful girl in a simply maddeningly purple coffee shop can you please breathe and not make yourself look stupid-

“Oh, wow! I’ve never met a twin before - not like twins are anomalies or anything it’s just so crazy. Science. Science is crazy” You closed your eyes and took a breath

“We should probably start over shouldn’t we?” You wrinkled your nose.

“That sounds much more redeeming than anything we both were about to say” George breathed out laughing softly, rubbing his hand through his hair.

“I’m George. Weasley. Like I said, I work at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, the shop over there, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen this place before...or you for that matter, I never forget a beautiful young woman.” He said smoothly, his heart steadily subsiding - something about you had the power to not only make him scared out of his mind, but also totally at ease.

You returned the smile, warmly, the blood rushing to your cheeks at his compliment and sticking your tongue to your teeth. “Well, George Weasley, of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes I’m Y/N Y/L/N. And yeah, we’re new around here,” you leaned further onto the counter, realizing, albeit a moment too late that your eye level was directly with his abs now, and although he was wearing a suit...you could definitely tell they were there.

“We erm, just opened three months ago. It’s honestly a bit of a time to work here.”

“Oh and why is that?”

“Well, nothing like a blatant sexist to run an entirely female employed establishment and weird stuffy rich people.” Your eyes widened suddenly, and you felt like you had said far too much far too soon. But he gasp-laughed - laugh that ended as soon as it began and burst into a smile...like you had shared a secret with him.

“What the hell is he doing here then? Got a boy’s club to run in a purple coffee shop?”

“I mean you never really know these days, George, imposters are among us at every moment” you purred and pushed off the counter, meaning it as a joke but George’s heart screamed when he heard your name. As you moved to the other edge of the counter, he followed you.

“What a resourceful and cruel young woman, I am starting to like you, Miss Y/L/N.” He clucked. “And do you think of me like you think of Mr. I-Hate-Women-That’s-Why-I-Hire-Them?” He got inches from your face, smelling the coffee beans and vanilla extract that riddled your skin.

“Hmm...Mr. Weasley, I’m not so sure.” You coyly stepped away from him and took long strides to the far end of the coffee bar by the wall. George immediately felt a pit of flirtatious butterflies and (arousal?) something more in his stomach, jaw dropped, he followed you again. He pressed his hands to the counter in front of you.

“Well, how can I convince you?” He asked rather quickly.

“Hmm...” you leaned forward like he did before and his breath hitched in his throat “...let’s get you a cuppa first.”

-•-

“Wait, okay let me get this straight-“

“Yes?”

“You have 6 other siblings.”

“Yes.”

“...because your mom wanted a girl?”

“That-that would in fact be true, yes.”

You thought for a moment.

“So you’re telling me after she made it through you two-“

“-she still wanted to have more of us, believe me, it races through my mind daily.” He nodded vehemently laughing with you. You two had taken to the empty cafe at a table nestled in the corner, him sitting in a chair across from you on a bench. You had both been cracking each other up with stories from your childhoods, like how you both had managed to never know of the other’s existence until now.

He’d discovered that you had transferred from Hogwarts to Beauxbatons early on in your fourth year. You, a Hufflepuff, loved the quiet and soft landscape of the French school. You both had absolutely no idea the other existed. How? The world may never know.

He was brash. You were careful.

He was already flying when you were just feeling comfortable learning how to walk.

But you sat there with him for the better amount of an hour and a half, laughing and interrupting each other with memories of the school years you had, some weird and strange, and especially during fourth year, hard for George to talk about.

Ginny, his baby sister, had almost died. And as he said to you in a candid and highly vulnerable state: he blamed himself for almost letting her go to this day.

“I...I really do believe it was my fault.”

“George, it couldn’t have been your fault. Hogwarts is a big freaking death trap - you and I both know that,” you had said with an exasperated laugh, eager to make him feel better in any facet.

“Yeah, but...I’m her big brother. Yes, she has five other older brothers but...we were supposed to protect her.” He swallowed and blinked back tears. “It was her first year, for Christ’s sake, and I paid about as much attention to her as a doorknob would.” He had rolled his jaw and taken a gulp of his gingerbread latte (you had said it was your favorite, and he was loathe to try anything else) and you had softly draped your hand on top of his.

“If she’s as kind and loving and funny as you, I’d love to meet her.” You quipped, a small smile growing on your face in effort to soothe. He had smiled back at you, turning your hand over in his and drawing his digits lazily over your palm.

“Funny, because I was thinking the same thing.”

-•-

He had told you to close your eyes, that much had been true.

See, his coffee had started to get cold. So, like if you give a mouse a cookie, he’ll have to have some milk-

If you give a George a latte he will have to not only have another one, but also feel the strenuous need to show off for you and take you to his place of work. Naturally. And it was so lucky that by the time he’d proposed you leave, he even helped you clean and lock up afterwards.

Truthfully, it almost scared you how much he had seemed to care.

“Alright, Y/N, darling, I’m going to release my hands on the count of three, yeah?”

“Perfect, Georgie” you giggled. You’d legitimately only knew him for so long, but you just...you trusted him. He grinned widely, his strong hands only applying a slight amount of pressure as not to hurt you.

“Alright, then. 1. 2-“ he took his hands off your eyes and watched you adjust not only to light, but to your surroundings as well.

“3.” He breathed out taking in the way you smiled like a teenager, face alight with pure inundating wonder. You squealed and started to run around the store.

“Look at these! Pygmy Puffs - ugh they’re so adorable look at this one! Oh, oh - ‘Fizzing Whizbees’ - these look absolutely wicked! And Per- ‘Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder’?” You picked up the glittery stone in your hand, and heard a smooth voice perk up behind you.

“A real money spinner, that one.” You turned around and there was a man that looked absolutely identical to George, although entirely different in the same way.

“Handy if you need to make a quick getaway,” you heard George on the other side of you. He smiled warmly down at you, nodding his head up to look at the twin across from him.

“Y/N, this is my-“

“-older, much more attractive and fiscally responsible brother.” He winked and you blushed almost immediately. “Fred. Weasley.”

“Y/N Y/L/N. Georgie has told me a lot about you and the shop - absolutely marvelous this place is, I cant believe you two created so much in such a short span of time. Brilliant it all is, really!” George had started to flush, rubbing his jaw to seemingly take the red away from his striking face. Fred, upon hearing the genuine warmth from your voice and the unmistakable use of “Georgie” had a small, but highly distinct aha moment:

“Well, we couldn’t have done it all on our own, one of our best friends helped us out a good lot. But thank you, really...it means so much when other people see how much we do and-” he looked directly at George.

“-acknowledge the things we love, right George?”

“Absolutely, Frederick.” Fred had given him the look that seemed to imply: “please, God, make a damn move.”

“Well, Y/N, I’m going to be off and woo some ladies, have a biscuit and do some paperwork” he smiled wide when you giggled, already enjoying your company.

“But I hope to see you again, very soon, yeah? Please stop by whenever you can, we’re alwYs just down the street.”

“Freddie, for your company, I’m not so sure, I’m still deciding.” You quipped. Fred laughed heartily at that and looked at George.

“Georgie, I like this one.” George looked at you and winked.

“Me, too Freddie, me too.” You leaned back on your heels as Fred padded back up the stairs to the flat, now completely alone with George. You threw your arms behind you back and forth and took a long stride to George.

“So...what are you those?” You nodded up to the array of pink bubbles in a clam shape in the corner. He hummed and reached to grab your hand.

“Love potions - c-can I show you?” He raised an eyebrow slightly, but he felt his whole body turn to mush when you accepted his hand and nodded slowly. As he walked with you, you memorized the feeling of his callouses and veins, the way your hand curled deliberately in his.

You wanted to make sure if it was the last time you felt something like that, you had that memory with you for a while.

“Essentially, if you give these to a person they will temporarily have feelings of love and attraction for you. Depending of course on the dosage you use and the weight of the person in question.” He explained. You watched the way his suit jacket pulled taut against his back muscles and instinctively wanted to honestly just take the whole thing off-

“Hmm...I don’t know about these, Georgie.” You hummed mischievously. Your heart was pounding in your chest.

He scoffed placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “Am i being questioned in my own establishment, Miss Y/L/N?”

You rolled your eyes and hit his arm, bowing slightly at him. “Well, do forgive my feminine insolence, Mr. Weasley, it’s not often I meet such bewitching mad scientists like you.” You watched his face grow blank for a moment at your compliment and immediately wanted to throw up.

“George, I’m really sorry, I know we just became friends-“

“Do you mean it?” He took a step towards you. You swallowed finding again his perfect milk chocolate eyes. You nodded.

“Hell yeah I did, you’re smart...and wicked hot” you both laughed at that. He took another step, the distance being unbearably harder to live in as his digits found a piece of hair and wound it behind your ear.

“Well, darling, the feeling is quite mutual.” He said quietly, taking in the whole of your face. He wanted to crash his lips onto every possible nook and crevice of your face, collide with you entirely.

“We’re going to have to do something about that, then, aren’t we?” You gently nudged his nose with yours and wrapped your arms around his neck, his strong and powerful arms pulling you to him gently. He wanted you to feel him not to break under his embrace. He leaned down and brushed his lips up to yours, feeling you whine and let out a minuscule sound.

“Got you making noises for me already and haven’t even kissed you yet, hmm?”

Your eyes fluttered close and one of your legs made it’s way in between his, snapping any chance at loose air between you two out of the way.

“Please, Weasley, pants a bit small for you?”

“Keep talking like that and they might, yeah.” You two laughed softly and with a final look to your lips he closed the last gap.

His mouth was perfect. His lips ghosted over yours one last time before wrapping every part of himself onto your frame, your lips entangled in each other like you’d never be able to taste him again.

But it was loving and slow and sweet. He tasted like gingerbread lattes and pastries and cinnamon and licking into his mouth you could feel the spice. He moaned lightly into your mouth, sending your knees buckling. He dipped you slightly, a hand traveling to your lower back to keep you steady, and his other hand coming up to nestle under the nape of your hair. Your hands caressed his face, his chest, needless to say? You wanted them everywhere. You wanted him everywhere.

The kiss broke and you and George were left breathless in each other’s hold, your foreheads pressed together as he kept you slightly dipped.

“Y/N, I’m feeling a bit tired” he quipped hoarsely, pressing a brief kiss to your lips and onto your neck. You hummed satisfactorily.

“Georgie, you’re gonna need another latte aren’t you?” You set multiple chaste kisses to his lips and cheeks, feeling him rumble with a small giggle. He caught your mouth with his and you moaned slightly.

“I’m gonna need a whole pot, to drink you in, love.”

[miekasa]

rich guy levi okay, he’s a penthouse apartment kind of person. no grand sorawling minimalist modern 50-acre mansion with 2 pools, 4 barns, and 12 bathrooms for him, no sir! none of that giant stuff rich people got that they just use to flaunt wealth and status. he’s practical! but hey, his wealth affords him good stuff, so it’s a penthouse in a great convenient area. his place isn’t huge, but it’s comfortable, and he got extra room for friends on occasion he needs to take care of their drunk or work-exhausted bums (see hange). it’s not the whole white walls minimalist modern nordic stuff that is borderline clinical (idk why white people think this is the peak aesthetic 😭). he has taste. dark tones with pops of color, memorable and meaningful tokens from friends and family carefully displayed, his place is always soothing to the eyes too. it still feels homey! his pride is his kitchen and pantry of course, and he’s always stocked up on the best produce and the good stuff. best baking equipment and cookware too, yessir, and you know he has good vanilla in there somewhere!

it’s a shock though when he first brings you over and you go *surprised pikachu face* because the way he moves in life did not prepare you at all for how loaded he actually is 😭 he pushes your jaw back up and affectionately nudges you to the bar counter where your coffee/tea is already prepared to your taste. you’re still looking around, distracted by him cooking too, while all the thoughts in your head try to word themselves out 😌

THE CLINICAL DECOR SLANDER 😭😭 no, but you’re so right, it feels too bright sometimes, and clinical is a perfect way to describe it. His design style is like... dark organic modern; like you said, dark tones, pops of color, green from the plants he has and takes meticulous care of, plus decor that are really souvenirs from places he’s travelled too (or wacky gifts from Hange that, to his surprise, fit his interior really well). 

His kitchen would be absolutely perfect. Though I think he’s partial to golds, his kitchen has such fine stainless steel; it’s bordering on restaurant grade with the tools and equipment he has on hand. A whole cupboard dedicated to appliances, neatly tucked away and unsuspecting unless you know what’s in there. Not only does he have everything you could ask for, he makes a bunch of shit himself too--what’s the point of having such a fine kitchen if he won’t take the time to grow his own herbs, ferment his own kimchi, make his own pickles, hell, he probably even makes his own vanilla extract. 

Him closing your mouth for you stop that’s so. FUCK that’s so him, and just sitting across from you while you sip your tea and try and take this in. He didn’t really plan an explanation, he figured he’d just let you ask questions and let the conversation flow from there. He does kind of hope your shock fades soon though, he had plans to take you to the pool and you’ll surely drink chlorine if your mouth is open. 

[pastelwitchling]

Michael had known something was wrong with Alex the second he’d walked into the Crashdown.

For one, he didn’t so much as glance up like he always did when he and Michael found themselves in the same space, because they always, always managed to somehow sense each other. So Alex either knew Michael was near and didn’t care, which, after resigning themselves to the fact that they just needed each other and pretending otherwise didn’t do anyone any good, was very unlikely. Or something was very wrong.

Alex was staring out the window, but as Michael neared, he saw his eyes were puffy and rimmed red, like he’d been crying. He was pale, and every deep breath seemed to be laborious.

Michael slid into the booth opposite him with a raised brow. “Private?”

Slowly, Alex blinked and turned to look at him. Michael’s frown deepened. It felt like Alex was looking right through him.

His gaze focused, and his brows pinched. “Hey,” he said thickly. “When’d you get here?”

Michael shifted, heat crawling up his neck and cheeks. “Just now. You feeling okay, Alex?”

Alex sniffled. He pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders despite the warm weather. “Uh,” he finally said, “Sure. Yeah. I’m great. Hey, can you come here?”

Michael started. “Come . . . here?”

“Mm,” he nodded, his eyes closed like his lids were too heavy, and he beckoned Michael closer with one hand. “Here, to this side. Please.”

Michael swallowed, confused, but he stood, and came around the table to Alex’s side, sitting down next to him.

“You gonna tell me what . . .” he tried, but trailed off as Alex was already sleepily tugging at his sleeve until they were pressed together against the wall.

With a shaky breath, Alex put his head on Michael’s shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist, curling up against him and gluing himself to his side. Michael realized two things.

The first was that neither of his siblings, nor any of Alex’s brothers or friends, were secretly watching from their own booth, teasing him for falling for whatever was happening. This wasn’t a trick. The second was that, though you wouldn’t know it just by looking at him, Alex was shivering.

“Whoa,” Michael murmured, instinctively dropping his arms around Alex’s shoulders, pulling him in as close as possible. “Baby, what . . .” his lips brushed Alex’s forehead, and he barely refrained flinching. “You’re burning up!”

“You’re so warm,” Alex muttered, pressing his face into Michael’s chest. “Hold me tighter.”

Michael did. He pressed his lips to Alex’s forehead again, ignoring the heat. He ran his hand up and down Alex’s back. “I think – I think you need to go to a hospital.”

“’S just a fever,” he said. “I’m fine.”

Liz showed up with a to-go order, and a sympathetic smile. If she was at all surprised to see her friend hugging Michael for warmth, she didn’t say anything.

“Here’s your soup, Alex.” Alex groaned, and Liz’s eyes sharpened. “Or I can force it down your throat. You don’t think I’d do it?”

Alex sighed into Michael’s shirt, even his breath as hot as fire, and he sat up, extracting himself from Michael’s body. He shuddered, and Michael couldn’t help the shiver himself at the lack of Alex’s touch.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, and grabbed the bag. He raised a hand in thanks, and Liz, satisfied, turned and left.

Alex put his head down on his folded arm, and Michael put a hand on his back. He dared lean in.

“Let me take you home,” he murmured against the shell of his ear.

Alex said nothing for a while, and Michael wondered whether he was in too much pain to answer, or if he had just fallen asleep from exhaustion right here. Then he sat up suddenly and patted Michael’s shoulder, hitting the air a few times.

“No, I’m – I’m fine,” he insisted. He pushed himself to his feet, swayed, and steadied himself. Michael hesitated before he let him out of the booth, and followed him to his car.

“I really don’t think you should be driving, Private,” Michael tried for a humorous tone, but the truth was that it unsettled him, seeing Alex like this. He was always so quick to shrug things off, to assure everyone that he was okay, that nothing hurt him. He couldn’t help but wonder just how long Alex had had a fever, and why it took him so long to notice.

“Guerin, I’m just a little tired,” he told him with a brief smile. He tried opening his car door, but his hand slipped off the handle, and he exhaled sharply, his hand twitching, as if the steel was too cold to touch.

He sniffed and tried again, managing to get the door open this time. Michael must’ve looked as worried as he felt, because as soon as Alex caught sight of him, he huffed a chuckle.

“Really,” he promised, “I’m fine.” His voice softened as he said, “Thanks for keeping me warm. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Michael wanted to argue. He didn’t like seeing Alex sick, and he really didn’t like leaving him alone when he was sick to take care of himself. In the end, however, he found he could do nothing but nod at the ground as Alex drove off, feeling like he’d somehow abandoned him again when he needed him most.

 Michael woke the next day from a restless sleep, his mind going through fever remedies. Cold cloth to the forehead, painkillers, and warm blankets were a given. But what if Alex was getting worse? What if he was coughing his lungs out? What if he was barely able to breathe, unheard and uncared for in his bed? What if, too sick and alone and miserable yesterday, he never even made it to his bed?!

He hurriedly got dressed as he muttered to himself, gathering whatever supplies from his kitchen he thought he might need. There was nothing in his fridge but a few beers and takeout containers.

“Damn it,” he hissed. How could he not have stocked up more? What would poor, helpless Alex do now?

Cursing himself all the way to his truck, having barely had time to button more than two buttons on his flannel, Michael slid in, slammed the door behind him, and hit the ignition. He heard Sanders’ annoyed complaints behind him, but the wind was soon howling on his speedy drive to Alex’s house.

He imagined his airman, curled up on the floor against the wall, pale and rasping. He swallowed past his nerves and tried not to scare himself. This was still Alex, after all. He was still the strongest person Michael knew, still the hero. He wouldn’t let a fever kill him off . . . Michael pressed the gas pedal to the floor of his truck anyway.

When he finally pulled up to Alex’s house, he hesitated on the porch. He raised his hand to knock, realized that he could be waking him or maybe worsening whatever migraine he could be having, and dropped his hand, opting to use his powers instead.

“Sorry, Private,” he muttered as the door swung open on its own. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Michael slowly made his way through the shadowed hall as he’d once done, months ago, when he found Alex’s house broken into and didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t know what he would find now either. He heard muffled noises, getting louder as he made his way deeper inside.

Would he find Alex passed out on the carpet? Maybe he’d tripped and hit his head on the table? Maybe, Michael feared, he wasn’t here at all? That he’d never even made it home?

Michael was so ready to come face to face with tragedy that when he stepped into the wide living room to find Alex sitting up on his couch in a nest of blankets, a large mug of steaming tea in his hands as he watched a Tom and Jerry episode, he had to stop.

Alex was in his sweats, his hair tousled. He was pale, but not as much as he’d been yesterday. The only real testament to his fever, Michael supposed, was the fact that he hadn’t sensed someone had come into his house uninvited.

Alex blinked, surprised. Then he raised his hand and waved.

“Uh . . .” Michael sat down beside him. He reached up to feel his forehead. His skin was a little damp. “You doing okay?”

“Mm hm,” Alex nodded. “I had a few painkillers in the middle of the night. I feel a little achy, but fine. What’re you doing here?”

“I –” he sighed. “I couldn’t sleep. I was worried about you.”

An amused smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah?”

“That surprises you?”

He hummed, considering. “Not really. I expected you later though.”

Michael brushed Alex’s bangs back from his eyes before he could help it, his heart jumping as Alex’s eyes closed and he turned into the touch.

“I didn’t want to wait,” he confessed.

“Thought you’d show up at the door with your hands on your belt,” he said. “Go all, ‘Oh, hey, Private, you’re sick? Totally slipped my mind. Grr grr grr I’m so manly grr.’”

“Ha ha!” Michael said as Alex burst into tired laughter. “Hilarious.”

Alex had another sip of his tea and held up his mug. “You want a cup?”

Michael couldn’t help but smile. The idea of having tea with Alex on his couch as they watched morning cartoons felt so domestic and alluring that he was up before he even answered.

“Yeah – uh – where’s the kitchen?”

Alex pointed towards one hallway. “Teapot’s on the stove. Mugs are in the pantry.”

Michael nodded, turned to leave, and stopped, looking back at Alex. “You need something while I’m there? Water? Did you have breakfast yet?”

But Alex was already shaking his head, smiling warmly. “I’m okay, Guerin.”

“Okay,” Michael breathed, walking backwards so he could keep staring.

Alex laughed, shooing him off. “Go!”

Michael returned as quickly as he could, and hesitated for just a split second before he kicked off his boots and curled up next to Alex. Even with a fever, Alex smelled like vanilla and flowers, and Michael found himself leaning in so close to take a whiff that his head ended up on his shoulder.

“You smell so good,” he said, and Alex’s shoulders shook with his chuckles.

“Thank you,” he said, and coughed. Michael encouraged him to take another sip of his tea while it was still hot, and Alex settled back into the couch with a deep sigh. They watched in silence for a while, then Alex sniffled, and Michael felt him burrow deeper into his nest of blankets.

When he spoke again, his voice sounded deeper, his words slower. “I watched Charlie’s Angels yesterday.”

Michael turned his face into his shirt, reveling in his warmth. “Yeah?”

Alex hummed. “I could be an Angel. If I didn’t have one leg, you know?”

His words turned to murmurs. Michael’s brows furrowed, and he realized Alex was getting too warm.

“Alex?” he looked up, and found Alex’s eyes were shut, his jaw clenched to try to stop his chattering teeth. He sat up. “Hey, Alex.”

It was like Alex couldn’t hear him, his whole body shuddering before he dissolved into a fit of shivers, his grip tightening on his cup.

“Oh man,” he muttered, and set his mug down. “Hold on, baby, I’ll get you some painkillers.”

“T-Top drawer,” Alex managed, scrunching his shoulders against the chill.

“Top drawer, top drawer,” Michael repeated under his breath, looking for the pills. When he found them, he emptied out two, brought Alex a water bottle, and rubbed his back as he downed them both.

“C’mere,” he told him, pulling him and his blankets in against him. “Come on, get warm.”

He rested them both back down against the couch, hugging Alex closely, keeping his blankets up to his chin.

“I’ll b-b-be okay in an h-hour,” Alex shivered, pressing himself tightly against Michael’s side. His skin was turning hotter, and Michael contemplated pulling away to look for a thermometer, but didn’t want to leave him alone for a second.

“I know,” he said against Alex’s hair, even as his grip tightened. “I know, baby.”

“D-Don’t leave, okay?” he managed, and Michael kissed the top of his head.

“I’m right here,” he promised.

At some point, Alex drifted off to sleep, and Michael took the chance to gently lay him down against the cushions. He went to the kitchen and pulled out a variety of vegetables before he set to work. By the time the pot on the stove was boiling with the salty, delicious smell of soup, two hours had passed and Alex was still asleep.

Michael turned the stove off and came to kneel in front of him, brushing his hair back with his fingers and pressing a light kiss to his forehead, then the tip of his nose, then his lips.

“Don’t,” Alex moaned, turning to hide his face in the cushions. “You’ll get sick.”

Michael gently turned his head around with a hand on his jaw. “I don’t get sick, remember?” He leaned in and kissed him again, and again. Alex held his face, as if eager for more of his natural body heat.

When they finally pulled away, Michael whispered, “I made you lunch.”

Alex pouted. “’M not hungry.”

“You have to eat something,” he said, pecked Alex’s lips once more, and stood. He brought him a big bowl of soup, and sat down next to him, a spoon in hand.

Alex laughed weakly. “I can feed myself, Guerin. I’m not totally helpless.”

He shrugged out of his blankets, his brows pinched like they were suddenly making him uncomfortable, and Michael noticed beads of sweat on the nape of his neck and his forehead, dampening his hair.

“Fever’s going down again,” he noted, raking Alex’s hair back as he began to eat.

“Mm,” Alex said, blowing on another spoonful. He chewed thoughtfully for a minute, and sniffled again. “I can’t taste anything.”

“It’ll come back,” he said. “Last.”

Alex groaned, and Michael laughed. “How do you know so much about this stuff anyway?” he asked. “Isobel and Max don’t get fevers, do they?”

“No,” he said slowly, his cheeks turning red as he looked away. “But you do.”

Alex raised a brow, a silent encouragement to go on. Michael cleared his throat. “When we were seventeen, about two months after we met, you . . . you had to be sent home in the middle of class because you – your temperature jumped, and . . .”

He huffed, and ran a hand through his curls. “I thought I’d need to know this stuff in case . . .” his words fell to a mumble, “I don’t know, in case you needed me.”

Alex said nothing for a while, his eyes somehow piercing Michael’s soul, as they always did. Then he said, “I don’t even remember that.”

So quietly that Alex might not have even heard it, Michael said, “I remember everything to do with you.”

Alex cupped his jaw, bringing his face up to kiss. When he pulled away, his heated forehead pressed to Michael’s. “I can still taste your lips,” he whispered. “Nothing else. Is that weird?”

Instead of answering, Michael leaned in and kissed him again, the taste of salt from the soup on his tongue. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his arm coming around Alex’s waist to pull against him.

“You’re so warm,” Alex breathed, coming close enough to straddle Michael’s lap, as if he comforted him better than any blanket could. When his hand slid down Michael’s exposed chest, Michael moaned, reaching for Alex’s leg to pull him firmly onto him.

Then Alex abruptly pulled away, his forehead pressed to Michael’s shoulder as he heaved. He was out of breath too quickly.

“Hey,” Michael panted, his heart thrashing in his chest as he ran a hand up Alex’s back. “It’s okay, we – we don’t have to do anything now.”

“I want to,” Alex managed, his fist clenched tightly in Michael’s shirt. “I just . . . later?”

Michael’s eyes shut and he bit his lower lip so hard he thought he might draw blood.

“Later,” he breathed. He hoped.

Alex settled back onto the couch, and Michael pulled him in against him. He put a hand under Michael’s shirt, sighing contentedly at the warmth of his skin. And they rested there together, more comfortable and at peace then they’d been in days apart.

[therealvalkyrie]

What Could’ve Been Without the War

Pairing/setting: Jean Kirschtein x Female!Reader, modern!AU within the Walls, set after the War; canon divergent w/ modern tech

Summary: You and Jean embark on your weekly trip to the grocery store.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: equal parts angst and fluff, idiots to idiots, mutual pining, unsatisfying ending (i’m so sorry)

AN: Surprise Jean! I hope you are all having a wonderful Friday evening and that I don’t ruin it too much with angst. This piece started out as a super fluffy drabble involving grocery store shenanigans and kinda....uh....got away from me. Ahem. It was also originally intended as a 157 follower cool prime number thank you! I think we’re up to 180-something now, but we can still count it. Big thanks yet again to the love of my life @ghostlightprincess for her edits and encouragements:) Please come let me know what you think in my DMs/askbox/comments!!  ~valkyrie

Jean opens on the third knock on his apartment door, already shrugging on a jacket. He greets you with a short “hi” and receives the kiss you plant on his cheek out of habit.

“You ready?” You’re practically bouncing on the balls of your feet, car keys jingling off of the magenta key ring looped around your finger. It’s cute, and he finds himself matching your enthusiasm with a grin of his own.

“Almost,” he replies, reaching back to his coat rack to grab a scarf. “Honestly, I still don’t understand why you’re always so excited for the grocery store.”

He looks back to catch you rolling your eyes. “I don’t understand why you’re not. A grocery store is a magical place, with all of the cheesecake and ice cream you could ever wish for!”

He chuckles and joins you in the hallway, leaning down to lock his door behind him. “Need I remind you that you’re lactose intolerant?”

“That’s what Lactaid is for, stupid. Come on!” He lets you pull him down the hall, your small gloved hand in his big one. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Croft!” you greet his elderly neighbor as you pass her open door, sticking your head in with a wide smile. “You need anything from the store? Jean and I are just on our way.”

Jean stands beside you awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with his shrewd neighbor. You haven’t let go of his hand and he can feel a blush working its way up his neck. 

“No, that’s alright, honey, I just went this morning.”

“Okay! Well, let us know if you think of anything!”

“Thank you, dear.”

“Have a good afternoon, ma’am,” Jean chips in as you wave. 

“You kids have fun.”

The next second, you’re pulling him away again and he misses the way Mrs. Croft chuckles knowingly and looks back to her knitting. 

—

“What’s next on the list?” Your voice drifts down the aisle back to him, and Jean pauses in pushing the cart to shuffle the papers in his hands. 

“Umm… AP flour, vanilla extract,” shuffle, shuffle, “brown sugar, olive oil, yeast.”

You hum in acknowledgment and he watches as you flit from shelf to shelf, gathering items in your arms. He pushes the cart up to join you.

You dump everything in haphazardly, and he sighs, leaning down to straighten it all out into categories.

“What’s next?” You’re already halfway down the rest of the aisle again, gazing up longingly at the Oreos on the top shelf.

God, she’s cute.

He joins you, reaches up to pluck a pack of Double Stuf off of the shelf, and wordlessly places it in your section of the cart, suppressing a smile of his own as you grin up at him.

“You sure know how to treat a girl right, Jean-bo.” You reach up to ruffle his mullet. 

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, ducking away and flushing red like a smitten schoolboy. “Next is the frozen aisle.”

—

“Was it the lasagna that she liked last time? Or the shepherd’s pie?”

“The lasagna.” He accepts three frozen dinners as you pass them over from where you’re leaning past the glass freezer door.

“Hey,” he looks up sharply at your soft call to see you staring down the aisle like you’ve seen a ghost, hand still holding the glass door open. He follows your gaze and sees him just as you say, “It’s Erwin.”

It’s not, but Jean’s heart twists all the same at the resemblance the stranger carries. Same neatly parted blonde hair, broad shoulders. But he’s shorter, still has both arms. And he’s alive. 

“It’s not, sweetheart,” he murmurs, reaching to wrap an arm around your shoulders.

“It is, look he—” you insist until the man turns and instead of the Commander’s piercing blue gaze you’re met with brown eyes that flick between you and Jean in confusion. “Oh.” Your face falls and you allow the door to close, turning into Jean’s side.

“You alright?” He tilts his head to catch your expression. It’s pure pain, mouth twitching into a frown and eyes unfocused. Your hand comes up to grip the bottom of his jacket, and after a second he can see you physically force your face back to neutral. 

“Fine,” you nod. He knows you’re faking, that it’s a survival tactic, so he lets it go for now, only steps back to let you in between his body and the cart. 

“Up you go,” he prompts you to step up, feet on the bottom shelf and hands clutching the bar. He starts to push as you ride, walking first then running down the aisle until you finally throw your head back and laugh genuinely. 

He misses the exasperated look an employee gives him as the pair of you whizz past, too preoccupied with your smile.

—

“What do you need three dozen eggs for, anyway?” you ask incredulously, nevertheless opening each carton to inspect before handing them over. 

“They’re a good source of protein,” he defends. “Plus, you always end up running out and coming to me to complain. Ran me dry last time.”

Another playful eye roll. “It’s only ‘cause I messed up my brownies! And I needed them to entice the landlord to finally fix my heater.”

“Your heater’s been broken?”

“Well, it’s not anymore. Espresso brownies work wonders, I’ll have you know.”

You’re trying to brush it off as you normally do when he worries, but the thought of you shivering and blue-lipped keeps him pushing. “How long did you not have heat for? It’s February!”

“Not the point, Jean-bo!” You poke at his cheek and twirl away towards the cheese. 

“It definitely is the point. Come to me next time and I’ll fix it.”

“And lose my deposit?” You scoff, reaching for mozzarella. “Fat chance.”

“Freeze, then.”

You grin back at him. “Why d’you think I came over so much last weekend?”

“Is that all I am to you? A hot water bottle in your time of need?” He feigns hurt, but some pride swells in his chest that he kept you warm, after all. 

“And a cute one, at that. Think fast!”

His hand flashes up to catch the mozzarella you toss deftly. 

“You wound me.”

“Eh, builds character. What’s next?”

Shuffle, shuffle. “Wine and flowers.”

—

Jean watches as you bounce in the driver’s seat, hands almost dainty on the wheel, leaning forward to stare resolutely out the windshield at the darkening road. You’re singing along to some song he doesn’t know that’s playing from the stereo.

It’s so familiar, this Saturday evening ritual with you, and it wraps Jean up like the softest blanket. He knows why you’re always so excited about grocery shopping, and it’s not the cheesecake — it’s the way this routine has centered itself in both your lives. He feels it too, the semblance of normalcy, of domesticity, that you’ve cobbled together with him in between hard weeks and harder nights.

You navigate the bends and odd intersections of his old suburban neighborhood with ease, having driven to his house maybe thousands of times since you were teens. The elementary school passes, then the vet clinic, until finally, your old black sedan pulls into his mom’s driveway alongside her silver minivan.

You shift to neutral and yank on the parking brake habitually, then turn off the car and settle back into your seat.

You’re both quiet for a moment: you staring out the window lost in thought, Jean checking the time on his phone.

“Jean?”

“Hm?”

“Do you ever regret enlisting so young?” This catches his attention, turning sharply to look at your contemplative profile.

“Never. It was the right thing to do.” He’s resolute in this conviction, always. The War had seemed to be at its worst when you’d joined up, driven by the promise of Wall Maria’s reclamation and impassioned by your comrades’ fury. It had been the only choice, in his view.

“I do, sometimes,” you admit quietly, eyes downcast to where your fingers twist in your lap. “Maybe then my head wouldn’t be so messed up,” you laugh dryly and tap your temple, then shoot him a sideways glance. “And maybe—” you cut yourself off.

“Maybe what?”

“Never mind.” You’re out of the car so fast Jean almost questions if you moved at all. It reminds him of your natural grace on the ODM gear, how you’d whoop and holler as you hurtled past him among the trees during training. He wonders for a moment when your agility turned from a source of joy to an escape mechanism, then stops himself. He knows exactly when that happened.

—

The grocery store tulips thankfully survived their ordeal in the trunk of your car, bright against Ma Kirschtein’s tile kitchen backsplash as you arrange them in her favorite vase. After a minute of fussing, you take a step back, give a nod of satisfaction, and scoop up the trimmed stems off the counter. The rest of the groceries are already put away, organized so she can reach them without trouble.

It’s as you’re stepping on the trash can pedal to open its lid that the voices from the living room catch your ear. You pause, smiling as mother and son converse.

“Have you been eating enough, Jean-bo? You look so skinny….”

“Ma, I—”

“What am I saying, of course you haven’t. You’d waste away to nothing if you were left to your own devices. I’m so glad that darling girl is there to look after you.”

“Ma, she’s not my keeper—”

“When are you two getting married, again? I could’ve sworn I wrote it down in my book, but I looked the other day and couldn’t find the date anywhere.” She sounds serious. Confused, even, not a hint of teasing in her tone. Must be an off day. A symptom of her early-onset dementia.

“Ma, we’re not even together.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve been together since high school.” She’s so convinced, so sure, and you squeeze your eyes tight against the reality that you and Jean have only ever been friends. In the adolescent insecurity of high school, in the intensity of military training, in the fucking heat of battle, all you’ve ever shared is friendship.

“Ma, I don’t think… I don’t even think she—” He pauses and your ears strain in the silence to catch his last quiet phrase. “She doesn’t think of me that way.”

You just know, you can tell, he only says it like that to ease her confusion. It’s the opposite, really, he doesn’t think of you that way. Before you can hear more sideways rejection, you toss the flower stems and make a beeline for the bathroom.

—

“What was that movie you were telling me to watch, again?” You ask around a mouthful of spaghetti with sauce fresh from the jar, covering your mouth with one hand.

The pair of you are eating shoulder-to-shoulder on the floor of your apartment two floors above Jean’s. It’s got the decidedly better view out your picture window, complete with the perfect Eastern perspective of the river that cuts through Trost and its famous bridges. It’s this, the third leg of your traditional Saturday evenings together, that makes you feel the most warm.

Jean has the manners to chew and swallow before replying. “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood? Connie, Sasha, and I went to see it when they visited last month—”

Your snicker cuts him off and he raises his eyebrows as you roll your eyes and take a sip of wine. “The feet movie? Sasha said it was pretentious.”

“Really? I thought she was too preoccupied with the fact that the theater sold chili fries to pay attention.” He teases back, twirling more pasta onto his fork.

“I’m telling her you said that,” you warn with a jab of your own fork in his direction.

“Snitch.”

“Hey!”

He ducks to avoid your swat to the back of his head, grinning at your pout. “No, but seriously, apart from the feet it’s a good movie.”

“Hmm. I’ll consider putting it on the roster for next week.”

You take a moment to relish the comfortable silence, looking out at the city lights as you chew thoughtfully. His thigh is heavy and warm against yours under the thick knitted blanket his mom gave you last Yule. Your belly is warm and full, your shoulders relaxed in the company of your closest friend, your lungs breathing easily.

Jean says your name quietly and you turn to see him staring pensively down at the plate in his lap. “About what you asked earlier… in the car?”

You nod, eyes wide and mouth serious.

“Sometimes… I do regret it.” He grits the words out through his teeth, like it’s difficult to force the truth into the world. “Not because I regret what we did in the War. But because sometimes I wonder,” his eyes cut to yours for a split second, “I wonder what could’ve been. Without the War.”

You don’t say anything, don’t say you understand, because you know he knows. Instead, you loop your arm into his and lean your head against his shoulder. It takes a moment, a release of breath and the fall of his chest, but eventually he closes his eyes, turns his face into your hair, and allows himself to sink into the what could’ve been. Just for now.

[orangesuitlove]

MY LIGHT SIDE [HOOD] - EPISODE.2

LEA When we entered the door, the first thing that greeted us was the strange smell of melon.

Or vanilla. It was such a heavy smell that it was the kind you wouldn't want to use in your home or car.

Still, it was a beautiful room surrounded by black glass inside. Along all the walls of the room in black and gray tones, Cover posters of famous faces of the company were framed and hung. And I realized that in front of the big table, two large gray chairs were for us. As I was walking towards one of the seats, I saw the name tag on the table.

Bruce Artwein – Manager.

"Hello, Lea, Melody. I am the chief manager and also one of the founders of Artwein Entertainment Company. "After making sure we were both seated, he leaned broadly in his seat and smiled. "I can say I have heard incredibly wonderful things about you." Then he turned the open Laptop screen in front of him towards us. I knew what I was seeing on the screen. A Youtube video that was paused halfway through.

Me and Melody's music video.

I've seen this video maybe thousands of times. I knew all the thousands of comments under it one by one. I also knew how in a short time it just passed millions of views and gained thousands of likes.

"It took us a long time to find you, ladies. So, I was looking forward to meeting you at this time of the morning." Mr.Artwein loosened his tie and turned the laptop to an angle for a little bit of his own view. "It was a feast of talent. I hope you are not mad at us that we took up your time at this hour."

Melody glanced at me probably for some help. She didn't know what to say. That's why I wanted to take over the strings. "We really appreciate you inviting us here, Mr. Artwein."

"Please, call me Bruce."

I nodded.

Frankly, we didn't think we would get such an opportunity like this kind of while sharing our video on YouTube. After Melody taught me how to play the bass guitar basically, we were doing something on our own by making little covers or composing our own songs.

It was pure fun.

And the video we watched was one of them.

It was one of the songs we wrote half drunk at midnight two months ago.

Also, was one of those songs that my half sober me wanted to pour out. But most of it was done by Melody.

I just put forward the main theme of the song.

I saw a little light tonight.

a light of you and me.

to you and to me.

a little light that we talked all night

with our eyes and dreams

where our fingers can't reach

with the things our hearts can touch

don't talk back tonight

don't hold back tonight

just look at me

just stay with me

wake up the light

wake up the light in me because I can't reach it

I can't reach it

please

just look at me and

stay.

And we couldn't continue in the last part because we were looking at each other and hitting the wrong notes so we stopped the video while laughing so hard. We were too lazy to shoot another rehearsal video.

"I can see you," Mr.Artwein said, stopping the replay of the video in my head. "You have a light that could be among the rising stars of this era. '''

He pointed to the video. "You can extract much more than that. Work with us."

I looked at Melody. I could see in her head that she was making plans to talk about this situation with her family. She remained silent.

It was a definitely huge opportunity for us.

Also, was our childhood dream.

We wanted this. That's why we were here as soon as we heard the invitation. We screamed like some kind of maniacs when we got the mail. We didn't know what to do, and during our facetime conversation, Melody even climbed onto her swivel chair because of her excitement then slipped and hit her head on the floor.

There was still a scar on the left side of her forehead where she had hit.

''What are your terms for our agreement?'' I finally asked.

"Absolutely a tenacious work ambition," answered Mr. Artwein. "Then you can leave the rest to us."

Melody shifted, "A questionable answer. It has too many open ends. How do we know that you won't turn us into some kind of slave?"

Mr. Artwein smiled. Even his smile was formal. As if it was even possible? '' To prevent this, bilateral agreements are being signed on paper, Ms. Roachella.'' And added, '' But I like the way you think, girl.''

Melody smiled. "I'd love to see your agreement on paper, then."

I intervened. "By the way, we, Melody and I, will be working together, right? We don't want to be called separate names." Melody turned to me and nodded, then she turned to Mr.Artwein. "We certainly don't want that. We either work together or we don't. That's our first rule."

Mr. Artwein grumbled happily but he was thoughtful, so he asked. ''What instruments do you play?''

Melody quickly answered. ''Classic, acoustic, electro, bass, fretless, lap...'' She used her fingers to count the types of instruments she could play.

Mr. Artwein laughed. ''It's true that you are a talented girl. However, you can only play one of these at a time." With that answer, Melody sank into her seat. He continued, '' Let's just call you, guitarist.'' Then turned to me. ''What about you?''

I hesitated. What should I answer to that?

''She is bassist. And also, you've probably seen Lea was singing most of the songs we recorded.'' Thankfully, Melody answered the question for me.

''Such an angelic voice I can say.'' this comment came from Suzy, whose existence I forgot to exist as she had been in the room silently for so long.

The whole story on wattpad if you want to read ^-^ ->  https://www.wattpad.com/1206132406-my-light-side-calum-hood-ep-2-needs

[allie-and-her-fandoms]

The Joy of A Fae

A/N: Hello guys. After 6 months, I am back with a new fic celebrating White Day AND Elaine's birthday (I might be a bit rusty though). This is only part one, and I intend to upload the next, STEAMIER part by the end of the next week. Anyway... enjoy, or endure!

---

The morning rays shyly entered the room, wrapping Elaine in a warm embrace. When they kissed her eyes, she started blinking and sat up on the bed, her hand instinctively looking looking for her beloved, who unlike most times, was not to be found in the cradle they had been sharing for months.

Worrying thoughts began to start wandering in Elaine’s mind, but as soon as they arrived, they left when she heard the sound of a pan coming from their kitchen. Which meant that either a thief decided they wanted to try their luck, or that The Fox’s Sin of Greed had a project in progress.

Without hesitation, Elaine’s wings carried her towards her destination, as her nose picked the scent of the air. Vanilla and fruits enveloped the entire house with their fragrance, and it got only stronger with every flapping of her wings. And the second she reached the threshold, Elaine was welcomed by an intriguing sight.

Over a counter, Ban dripped some vanilla extract, followed by him energetically stirring a rather thick liquid with a whisk. After a few seconds, his fingers reached for a teaspoon that he soon dipped in the liquid and raised it to his mouth, tasting its content. “Mhm, still missing a bit sugar,” he muttered in a melodious voice, as he reached for a jade-colored jar and started humming. Behind him, there were two plates filled with chocolates; one was filled with heart-shaped ruby chocolates, and the other was home to animal-shaped white ones. But Elaine’s eyes were not on the chocolates, but on the one who made them – more exactly, on what he was wearing.

An apron covered his torso and ended right above the knees, leaving the back uncovered. His muscular arms were not constrained by clothing, and his bottom was covered by a pair of ankle-length crimson red pants. Distracted by the sight in front of her, Elaine failed to notice that the humming had stopped, alongside the stirring. Before the blink of an eye, Ban’s silhouette left her eyesight, and before she could wonder where he went, she felt a strong yet gentle grip on her waist.

“Gotcha!” Ban hummed, as his right hand circled Elaine’s petite frame. “Didya think you can sneak up on me without me noticing? Or did you just enjoy the view?” he started teasing her, earning a muffled squeal from his beloved.

“I-It wasn’t that!” Elaine protested. “It just- When I woke up, you weren’t there. What are you doing here? What is with all the chocolate?” she asked Ban, her arms now resting on his.

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” Ban stated, surprise in his voice. “Did you really forget what today is?”

“Eh? Is there a holiday today?” this reply earned an indignated scream for Ban.

“You did not! You are just doing it to mess with me!” Elaine freed herself from Ban’s embrace, now facing him. As his ruby gaze insersected with her golden one, Elaine could hear his thoughts: “Is she trying to make a joke?”

“I am not kidding, Ban.” she replied and started frowning, and those words earned a disappointed look from him.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about your own birthday, Elaine!”

“Oh…” Elaine’s frown vanished, as her eyes widened and her left hand covered her mouth.

“Yep. Wanted to surprise ya a bit, so I woke up a bit earlier today,” Ban explained, leaning towards Elaine and removing her hand from her now closed mouth, covering it with his lips. Elaine deepened the kiss, which made Ban hum as his right hand found its way to her head, drawing her even closer.

After both were left breathless, blood red met topaz once again and Elaine felt two hands cupping her face ever so gently, feeling herself melting under Ban’s loving gaze.

“Happy birthday, Elaine,” he voiced, his mouth being immediately covered by Elaine’s, which he reciprocated in an instant, for his flame of passion would only start growing stronger with every touch, every word murmured, every memory engraved in his brain.

“Happy birthday to me, indeed,” Elaine chuckled. “Ban?”

“Hmm?”

“Why is there so much chocolate though?”

“Ah!” Ban beamed. “Cap’n told me about this the other day - it’s called White Day, and it’s some sort of reversed Valentine’s Day; the guys get to give chocolate to the ones they love. And since it is both White Day and your birthday, thought I should pamper ya a bit more.” he winked, earning a blush from Elaine, which made the corners of his mouth reach his ears.

“Oh! Thank you so much, Ban. Now, if you don’t mind…” she turned his back to him, and flew towards the chocolate plates, where she picked a little rosy heart. Before it could touch her lips however, the tiny chocolate was no longer between her fingers. When she turned around, she heard Ban’s boisterous laugh, as he held the little pink heart between his own fingers.

“BAN!” Elaine let out an exasperated scream. “Give it to me, please! I really want to taste it!”

“Oh? You wanna taste it so badly? Come and take it, then.” he hummed, the chocolate no longer between his fingers, but between his lips.

This caused Elaine’s blush to extend from her cheeks, until every inch of her face turned the shade of Ban’s eyes. However, determined to get the sweet treat back, Elaine flapped her wings and flew past Ban before he could register what had happened. “It looks that I got it, Ban,” she giggled at the expression adorning his face. “It melted a bit though,” she added, as she bit into the chocolate, the melted part painting her lips rose.

“It’s delicious!” Elaine squealed in delight. “Ban, you should try one too! They are fantastic! You’ve outdone yourself!” she completed, gleeful giggles leaving her lips.

“Oh, I will…” Ban murmured, stepping closer towards Elaine. Before she could react, Ban leaned in for a kiss. He then took a step back and licked his lips, now also adorned with liquid blush.

“My favorite taste,” he hummed out loud, the tip of his tongue out.

“BAN!” Elaine shrieked, blood rushing through every inch of her body frantically. Her reaction earned another round of mischievous laughter from her beloved.

---

After breakfast, during which Elaine had tried her best to be unapproachable (and had failed miserably) - which made Ban pepper her cheeks with kisses and embrace her until all the anger dissipated – the two lovers moved to the living room, where their mouths and hands decided to once again explore each other’s bodies. After a round of passionate kisses, Elaine rested gently on Ban’s now bare chest, as Ban let his weight drop on the couch.

The silence filled the room and after a few seconds, Ban tilted his head and saw Elaine blush and frown at the same time; an expression he rarely saw on her face.

“You okay?” he asked, caressing her back between her wings. Elaine quickly stood up, leaving Ban confused.

“Ban…” blood painted Elaine’s face scarlet once again.

“Hey,” Ban stood up as well. “What is wrong?” he asked, with concern palpable in his voice. Elaine hesitated, but she soon let out a sigh.

“I-I want to try something, but I don’t know if you would be okay with that…” she replied, refusing to look at Ban’s face.

“Does it involve you getting hurt? ‘Cause if so, I’m not doing it!” he argued.

“No, no no no. It’s just… I want to try something with you… when we’re alone…” Elaine blushed once again. “But it might be a bit too much for you, and I do not want to do it!” her words boomed between the four walls, leaving Ban shocked and confused. His expression soon softened, as he cupped her cheek.

“As long as it’s you, I can take on anything,” he whispered, his forehead touching hers, and a loving look sent her way. “I would do anything for you, Elaine.”

“Are you sure about that, Ban?”

“I am,” he nodded. “Besides,” he took Elaine’s hand and gave it a gentle grip, “I kinda wanna know what you have in mind. Now I’m really excited!” he cheered, earning a playful eyeroll and a couple of chuckles from Elaine. She led Ban to their bedroom, where she would start to discover a new side of him.

[ladykissingfish]

The Great Akatsuki Bake-Off

*this was a request in my inbox, I’m so sorry Anonymous I accidentally deleted it before I could reply, but I saw your message and here’s the response! ❤️*

Premise: The Akatsuki is broke af (again), and Pein comes up with the idea of having a bake sale to earn money. Every member of the Akatsuki makes a dessert to sell; chaos (or hilarity) ensues.

**Also I picture them setting up tables outside of one of the Akatsuki hideout caves which of course is equipped with a fully functioning kitchen because why not Jim**

Pein

It was his idea, he’s the leader, so naturally he ain’t cooking. The most the Pein-body will do is sit in the kitchen with Konan while she cooks, offering his opinion or praise.

Kisame

Kisame isn’t the biggest fan of sweets, so is at a bit of a loss for what to make. In the end, he decides to go with something that’s decidedly more savory than sweet; bacon-flavored scones with a maple syrup glazing. This requires some kneading and precise shaping, the latter of which requires small, delicate fingers that Kisame borrows Konan for. Should be noted that he wears a pink Kiss The Cook apron, and he blushes like crazy when Konan reads it and delivers one to his cheek. He gets a bit over-exuberant with the icing, getting more of it on the table than the actual scones. However, the end result is light, fluffy, and absolutely delicious. Deidara especially loves the bacon aspect, and is able to snitch a great number of these until Kakuzu catches him and forces him to pay up.

Deidara

Deidara would make a classic lava cake. He’d know absolutely nothing about this dessert beforehand; he’d be going through a cookbook, his eyes would fixate on the word “lava”, and he’d be sold. Sasori insists that he put on rubber gloves beforehand, because “Nobody wants your hand-drool in their food, brat.” Lava cake requires a very delicate touch and precise timing, something that Deidara has had to become familiar with when deploying his arsenal of bombs. Yet despite being careful he would have to start and re-start this mix many times; maybe he gets eggshells in the batter here, or mistakes oil for milk there. The inside of a lava cake has to smooth and liquid-y but the outside has to be soft yet firm; a single minute in the oven can make the difference between wonderful and awful for these little cakes. When he finally perfects one, he’s ecstatic; but the rest of the group is horrified, at how destroyed the kitchen is. Chocolate batter and powdered sugar covering every wall; yet, somehow, the guy himself remains spotless. Also, Deidara has made another critical error; he assumed that because the recipe was for a cake, it was for a LARGE cake that he could cut into sections and sell piece by piece. However, lava cakes are always small, individual desserts ... and Deidara has only made ONE. Still, he’ll take his one beauty and sell it almost immediately, leaving him time to wander around and filch “free samples” from everyone else’s dishes.

Zetsu

Nobody wants Zetsu trying to cook, because everyone is terrified of what he’d put into his creations. However, White Zetsu insists that (t)he(y) wants to participate, so the others hesitantly let him do so (with everyone periodically coming in to monitor him). His contribution? Pie. Zetsu knows that the key to delicious pie is in the light flakiness of the crust, and he creates several pies that literally melt in the mouth. And he doesn’t just do one flavor; he does apple, blueberry, cherry, and something he calls “surprise berry” ((which is really just a mix of raspberry, blackberry, and strawberry). Before Tobi goes to help Itachi, he’s in charge of helping Zetsu gather up the fruit, and he helps to peel and core and pit and wash until “my hands are really sleepy Zetsu-san!” Zetsu thinks his pies are perfect creations as a whole but Kakuzu insists he cuts them into individual slices to maximize profits, which White Zetsu balks over but Black Zetsu tells him to be quiet about.

Konan

Konan is a delicate, beautiful flower, so naturally anything she makes would reflect this. After much deliberation, she decides to make her version of a layered lemon mascarpone cake. The cake itself is a wonderfully moist vanilla sponge infused with lemon curd, layered with a thick lemon, honey and mascarpone cream, topped with fresh berries, and a light sprinkle of chopped pecans. At first she was only going to make one cake and portion it out into about 20 small pieces; but the demand for it was so high that Kakuzu told her he’d stay and sell the rest while she got back into the kitchen and made another. She’s by far the neatest chef in the kitchen, as she cleans up her mess as she goes so when she’s through, all she has to wash is the empty cake pan itself. She makes sure to save a large piece to secretly take to Nagato later; it’s been a long time since he’s had anything sweet to eat.

Kakuzu

Kakuzu doesn’t want to cook; he’d rather be the one running the sale. However he recognizes that the more desserts they have the more profit they can make, so he grudgingly makes a few trays of brownies. His secret ingredient? Sour cream. At first everyone sees him putting this into his mix and think he’s gone crazy; however, after they try one ((and don’t think for a second he’s not charging his fellow teammates for even a tiny sliver)) they’re blown away by how good they are. After he sets his items on the table, he’s the one who collects the money from the customers. Has to be talked down from the exorbitant prices that he tries to charge people at first. “How much for a piece of blueberry pie?” “500,000 ¥.”

Sasori

He really isn’t into baking (because why would he be? he doesn’t eat) but he knows how to read and follow a recipe. After some careful thought, he chooses to make cupcakes. At first he resolves only to make a dozen, and to keep it all one simple flavor: the chocolate with vanilla frosting that’s in the recipe. Yet as he stands there, a feeling takes hold of him; he remembers happier times, perched on a stool in the kitchen and watching/helping his grandmother as she cooked. That nostalgia drives him to get more creative, and make MUCH more than intended. Some of his creations are great; such as his ginger-chocolate cupcakes with fudge icing. But others, like his broccoli and carrot cake topped with “spicy” cream cheese, not so much. Regardless, the majority of his creations sell, which Sasori’s pleased about. Should be noted that Kakuzu did not entirely trust Sasori not to put some kind of poison into his dessert, so he forced Hidan to sneak and taste-test everything (as he’s the only one who would regenerate from certain death). But Hidan wouldn’t know arsenic from cinnamon; and he winds up with a hell of a stomach-ache after his forced culinary servitude.

Itachi and Tobi

Seeing as how he loves dango so much, Itachi decides to make several dozen sticks of the tri-colored sweet rice dumplings. He keeps the pink dumpling the common strawberry flavor, and the white plain, but he does something special with the green ball, flavoring it with vanilla extract and green tea. Because Tobi is a nightmare in the kitchen (and because he needs supervision when it comes to sweets), Itachi allows him to help, mainly in the form of sticking the dumplings neatly on the stick once they’re shaped. He’s a good helper, except for when Itachi takes his eyes off of him, as he likes to add icing, sprinkles, and a variety of decadent extras that don’t belong on this simple dessert. And it’s a good thing that Itachi makes so many, seeing as they BOTH sneak and eat quite a few when the other is distracted. Tobi is very helpful when it comes to pushing their wares, as his carefree, childlike demeanor attracts customers to their table.

Hidan

Hidan wants something that’s visually representative of him, so what does he make? Red velvet cake bars. The outside is covered with a white-silver frosting, but when you cut into it, the deep red of the cake greatly resembles blood. Hidan isn’t the best at baking (or cooking in general) so he asks Konan to help him when she’s not occupied with her own dish. He’s surprisingly calm and conscientious in the kitchen, keeping his swearing to a minimum and being extra-careful with measuring out ingredients and waiting on the oven to do its thing. He borrows Kisame’s Kiss The Cook apron, only he crosses out the second O and replaces it with a C. His bars come out slightly uneven but really good nonetheless. However, being Hidan, he can’t resist throwing in a prank; he saves some of the cake batter and holds it in his mouth, then, after taking a bite of someone else’s fare, claims that it’s poisoned and spits “blood” out of his mouth, which freaks out their early customers until Kakuzu catches him and exiles him back inside.

[schnitzelbutterfingers]

Baklava

Book/Pairing(s): The Royal Romance || Liam Rhys x F!MC (Jasmine Wilson) LAW STUDENT AU

Category/Warning(s): Teen || none

Word count: 2.7K

Premise: A different take on how Liam and Jasmine could have met. Liam and the gang search for baklava, and Jasmine is a law student and a talented baker, working in her mother’s bakery.

Author’s note: This is for the 200 FOLLOWER GIVEAWAY WINNER #2: @texaskitten30 . Congratulations! Hope you enjoy :)

New York City is known for its culture, fashion, Broadway musicals. Its approximately 8 million people.

Maxwell sighs. “C’mon, Liam. There are so many other desserts. Pie, cake, cupcakes, those drizzled thingies...”

He is right. The deserts here are magnificent. Every one of them is fireworks on someone’s tongue, the rich flavor evading the mouth.

Drake surprises him. “For once in my life, I’m going with Beaumont.”

But there is one thing New York City seems to not have.

“No,” Liam responds.

Baklava.

Maxwell open his mouth, but then closes it, flabbergasted. 

“Who are you, and what have you done to Prince Liam?”

The prince chuckles wryly, a sarcastic leer taking place. In a few months, he won’t be able to do this again. In a few months, he will marry a noble with no love in between. 

In a few months, his freedom will be over.

He has to make those few months worth it.

And he will.

By finding baklava.

However, Liam almost gives up. Every bakery they went to in New York City had everything, including Indian sweets, such as laddu, gulab jamun, jalebi.

But they weren’t selling anything from the Ottoman Empire. They weren’t selling baklava.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees a small building. A bakery. It has a small cupcake on the top of the name. 

The prince clears his throat.

“We’ll stop in this bakery. If they don’t have baklava either, then we can go buy cupcakes and go to a bar.”

Maxwell fist bumping the air and Drake sighing of relief, tells him they are both comfortable with his plan.

One more bakery.

That’s it.

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

Slow Dough.

That’s the name of the bakery. Immensely creative.

The three men step out of their rented car, the sun’s rays showing off its magnificent light, creating shadows as they take each step towards the bakery.

They open the door, the jingling bells on it acknowledging their presence.

It looks beautiful. The inside of the store takes on a more pastel theme, the baby pink with white stripes adorning the walls. There are sky blue tables and chairs, adorned with a vase of pink roses on each table.

The front of the bakery has a glass counter-shelf, filled with delicacies. Cupcakes, cookies, chocolate, ice cream. You name it.

Maxwell seems to have that same idea because he says, “Maybe we can steal some cronuts and-”

“Maxwell!” Drake admonishes.

“Hello? What is the commotion here?”

A woman, probably in her fifties, with natural tanned skin, paces into the room from the silver doors ahead of the counter, which Liam assumes is the kitchen. Rather than taking a chiding tone, her voice is laced with concern.

Liam glares at his two friends, Maxwell sporting a nervous smile. Drake shakes his head at Maxwell’s antics.

What good friends he has.

“Apologies for the loud... conversation ma’am. We were searching for a dessert named baklava in New York City. We searched almost every bakery we could find, but left empty-handed. We were hoping we would find some here?”

The woman grimaces. “I’m so sorry, son, but we don’t sell baklava here.”

The prince sighs. 

He knew it. Of course he did.

After mentally calming himself, he sports a tender smile.

“No worries, ma’am. In that case, would you mind giving us three cupcakes? One vanilla and the other two chocolate, please?”

“Now that, I can give you.”

She smiles as she opens the counter, probably finding the best cupcakes she could find.

The woman is probably the most solicitous person she ever met during his bachelor party.

The men sit down on of the chairs, surprisingly more comfortable than Liam imagined. They fall into an agreeable silence, with Maxwell playing with one of the pink rose petals, and Drake glued to his phone.

And they are interrupted. By a soft voice.

A beautiful voice.

“Excuse me, sir, but... did you say baklava?”

He stands up immediately to turn towards the voice, addicted to the melody.

And hazel eyes meets blue.

The lady looks like an exact copy of the older woman, only more younger. More irresistible.

Striking.

Even with glasses on.

For some reason, his heart starts beating faster.

Silently scolding himself, he straightens up and nods his head affirmative.

“Yes, is there a reason why you ask?”

“I happen to know how to make baklava. Do you want me to make some for you?”

Shock rolls over him as he mulls over her words. An American tries to help him?

He glances back at Drake and Maxwell. In return, they give him an exact sense of a whammy blown on them. They are probably thinking the same thing, too.

Liam discerns the older woman slapping her hand on her forehead in an almost idiotic sense, walking to stand next to the younger woman.

Twins.

They are practically twins, if people count out the wrinkles.

“Apologies, son. She is my daughter. She knows how to make almost everything.”

Liam softly grins at the mother and turns to look at her daughter. 

A beauty.

As if she came from a painting.

Majestic.

As if reading his thoughts, she takes a glimpse of his face and smiles. He catches a glimpse of a faint blush creeping on her neck, even with the tanned skin.

Liam allows himself a quick smirk and hurriedly straightens his face to a more gentle expression.

“What’s your name?”

She clears her throat and looks at him straight in the eye. “Jasmine.”

Maxwell gives her a wide smile. “Nice name!”

Liam and Drake nod their heads in agreement, looking back at Jasmine. She grins from ear to ear.

Her smile is infectious.

And Liam just met this girl.

“I’ll get started. I can set up a mini cooking show for you guys. This might take over an hour though. So, are you sure?”

Before Liam can respond, Drake interrupts.

“We can wait. This dude, here, was acting like he was waiting for baklava his whole life. If he doesn’t get his hands on one, he’ll probably punch something.”

“Drake!”

Before he can give him a new one, he hears Jasmine’s laughter, music to his ears. He only knew her for about 10 minutes, and something makes him want to get closer to her.

He can see scars sprinkled on her chest.

She’s an air of mystery.

Mystery.

“I can most definitely understand that feeling. I’ll go gather the ingredients!”

She flees like a small human Sonic, and he infers for a second that she did track in school. 

Maybe she did.

Jasmine comes back with nuts, cinnamon, dough, butter, sugar, water, honey, vanilla extract, and a lemon. After buttering up a thick pan, she sprinkles in a bunch of nuts and cinnamon.

Just like those chefs gave him a show and made baklava for him back in Greece.

Maxwell starts speaking, most likely attempting to make small talk during the awkward silence.

“So... where are you originally from?”

She softly smiles.

“Queens, New York. We moved to the city when I was 10.”

“What made you move to the city?”

“Oh, well...”

Jasmine slightly hesitates.

“My father had passed away, and we had to do something for a living. So we started this bakery...”

A tense silence invades the bakery, Jasmine quickly swiping her eyes. Maxwell grimaces, and Drake takes over.

“We’re so sorry. We didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable...”

She shoots him a weak grin. “It’s okay. It still hurts, but we’re trying our best to move on.”

At this point, she places two sheets of dough into the pan, and butters it up. She then layers it with nuts and repeats the process. The prince makes a mental note to remember these steps the next time he attempts in making baklava.

He tried to make baklava once, but failed, even after searching the internet to find the recipe.

It had been proved to his friends how much of a bad cook he is.

Liam attempts successfully in changing the topic, in a way to console her.

“Are you a student or...”

“I am! Final year law student at Yale.”

His eyes widen. “Yale? That’s impressive.”

Her mother comes back from the kitchen. “Wait till you hear how she skipped five grades and will be graduating as a lawyer at the age of 21.”

The gang’s eyes widen.

Wow. 

They’re speaking to mini Albert Einstein.

“Mom!”  The law student covers her cheeks in an attempt to stop the light rose pink that’s flooding her face.

Maxwell smiles wickedly. “That's so COOL! Liam, here, is the same! He managed to even excel better than his tutors. One time, he was making fun of them because they got a calculus problem wrong, and he managed to solve it in less than five minutes! He skipped three grades, but always managed to make tutors mad and made them speak to his parents because of his smart mouth-”

“Maxwell!”

Drake chuckles.

“What? It’s the truth!”

She chortles again. That melodic laugh.

“It’s alright. I did that every time, too.”

Jasmine cuts the baklava into diamond shapes and puts them into the oven. She stretches her arms out, unsubtly displaying off her muscles.

Damn.

“Alright. This’ll take about 50 minutes.”

Comfortable silence flows through all of them, Liam enjoying the clock ticking surrounding the small building.

Drake cuts it off. “We forgot to tell you where we’re from. We live in-”

“Cordonia, I know.”

Liam's breath catches.

A part of him wants to berate himself for being so idiotic. For believing that maybe one person won’t know who he is. But he should have known.

He should have known.

Drake closes his mouth and opens it again, unable to say anything.

“Wait, so you know Liam is a prince?”

“Crown Prince, yeah.”

“Then, why didn’t you let us know and treat us like normal people?”

“Because I know.”

Turning to him, she says, “Liam, all you’ve ever wanted was freedom.”

His eyes widen. He feels like he’s being mind-read by a fortune teller. At that moment he should’ve felt uneasy, but all he wants to do is open more of himself to her.

And that petrifies him.

“How... how do you know?”

Jasmine’s expression turns stoic, indecipherable.

“Your eyes. They express everything. You feel like you’re being locked in a jail cell. I was once like you, you know so I know that look anywhere...”

Her eyes turn misty, but she quickly shakes her head.

“You do want to lead your people, but you want to be free in choosing someone at the same time. You want someone you’ll fall in love with.”

Her educated guess is mind-boggling. Straying his eyes back to his friends, they appear as if they’re seeing Liam in a new light. Shocked.

That they didn’t know anything about this, and they’ve known him for years.

Maxwell shakes his head. “Wait, but... if you knew who we were, why didn’t you address Liam as ‘your highness’? Don’t get me wrong, we liked how you didn’t...”

Jasmine snorts. “Because even through he has royalty flowing through his blood, he is a human, just like us. I don’t mean it to be offensive, I swear. While titles also show respect, they put more benefit for someone than for another ‘commoner’. And I don’t like that.”

Liam becomes curious. Jasmine is not one of those average girls who shrieks over a celebrity. She is one of a kind.

And that makes him want to know everything about her.

“Say if... you became a queen one day. How will you rule?”

The law student takes a deep breath before responding. She unconsciously touches her dark brown hair, and twirls a curl over her finger.

“I... I would never go by the rule book. While rules are good and all, sometimes... it would lead to injustice. As Princess Diana said in her interview with Martin Bashir, I would  want to become a queen of people’s hearts, not just for a country. I would be there to do good, not cause harm or difficulty over another citizen’s life. I’m not a violent person. Quite the opposite, actually. I would want to be treated as a typical person with a typical life. I would want to be treated as an everyday person. And... I would want everyone to reminisce me as a woman who did good works, not as a woman with a prestigious title.”

Everything is confirmed. Drake’s mouth opens and closes as he tries to respond to what Jasmine just said. Maxwell has a goofy grin on his face.

Liam, however, has a cheeky smile that one would actually say is of respect and admiration. He admires her.

Even as she now bites her lip, he wants nothing more press his lips to hers. 

And they’ve only known each other for about an hour.

The oven alarm lowers the mounting tension in the bakery. Jasmine jogs over to the oven and takes it. The delicious smell of baklava invades Liam’s nostrils, and he immediately wants to taste it. Looking at the pastry, the gorgeous crispy brown of the dough stands out, with green nuts garnished.

“Take caution! It’s really hot.”

Maxwell smirks slightly, already reaching for a baklava. “Oh, I don’t think it’s that- HOLY SQUIDS!”

The once smirking Maxwell now has a face of pain etched on his face, holding his right hand after it burned a little. Jasmine, seeing this, snorts.

“Told you so.”

Shaking his head, Liam -carefully- takes  a piece of baklava, blowing it slightly to soothe the heat. Once it is lowered to a considerable heat, he takes a bite out of it and-

My.

God.

It is scrumptious.

And it appears that Drake and Maxwell are thinking the same thing, their friends’ eyes filled with astonishment.

Jasmine bites her lip, most likely unaware of the action. God, if he could just-

“So, did you like it?”

Shaking off his dirty thoughts, he responds, “Like it? This is the best baklava I’ve ever tasted.”

Her wide eyes contain jouissance, Liam can tell.

“Thank you! Glad I didn’t mess it up!”

Jasmine blushes again, something Liam just knows is a rare sight for anyone.

Just then, her mother comes in, sauntering hurriedly up to them. Her eyes are tense and full of worry.

“So... how is the baklava?”

Liam smiles, hopefully soothing her mother with the action.

“I can reassure you, even the most famous chefs in Greece hadn’t made me this tasty baklava before in my life. It tastes like heaven, ma’am. Your daughter has talent.”

She sighs in relief. “Thank you, sons!”

Without hesitance, the mother kisses Jasmine on her cheek, and in return the daughter kisses her on her forehead. The act reminds him of his own mother, before she died.

“How much does this cost?” Drake interrupts.

“This? This is free.”

What?

Liam refuses. “Oh, that’s not possible, we have to give you something-”

Jasmine laughs. “I insist. First of all, this wasn’t even part of the menu, although we do need to add it to ours. Second, you deserve this. For the first time, other than my mother, I felt like someone else got me.”

The words make the prince look at her deeply into her eyes. Jasmine stares back, not one of them blinking. Finally, the law student breaks the contact.

Just then, Drake clears his throat. “I hate to interrupt but we have to leave. Is it alright if we take more of these?”

The mother smiles. “Sure, sweetie! Take as much as you need.”

As Maxwell and Drake grab more of the baklava, Liam goes up to Jasmine.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye,” he says, his tone with a hint of heartache.

She smiles wistfully. “Yeah.”

And they hesitate before hugging one another tightly. Liam closes his eyes, in what could be his last moments of freedom. He makes this time worth it. Jasmine reluctantly pulls back and clears her throat.

“But hey, something tells me we’ll see each other again soon,” she adds, with a hint of a smirk.

And just like that, Liam starts to have second thoughts.

Maybe New York City is not that awful.

Narrator: Jasmine was right in what she said. They will see each other again. And they marry, and they make babies-

Author’s note: First Liam x MC fic lol. I hope I did this some justice HAHA. Anyways, if you’ve made it this far, thank you! ♥️

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