#please lmk if i need to remove/credit

[marvelousmugs]

I GOT A VOCALOID STICKER BOOK AT THE DOLLAR STORE AUHAHAHA

There's so many stickers

#Art isnt mine #please lmk if i need to remove/credit

[ghost-1-y]

Sacrifice

Surtr!Kyojuro x AFAB!Worshipper!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, masturbation (Kyo), getting caught masturbating (Kyo), knotting, Kyojuro is in heat, Kyo has a massive breeding kink, lactation kink (Kyo loves your titties), size kink, pregnancy kink, pregnancy (at the end), using horns as handles, implied belly bulging, mommy kink (reader referred to as both “mommy” and “mother”), love confessions at the very end, douma being an asshole, incorrect interpretation of norse mythology, reader is given as a human sacrifice to Kyo, mentions of animal sacrifice, reader referred to as “pretty girl” sometimes, please lmk if I missed anything!

Summary: The legends stated that the mighty fire giant would one day bring about the beginnings of Ragnarok and engulf the world in flames. You had been told of these prophecies since childhood and were a firm believer in appeasing the proclaimed Ruler of Fire through worship and sacrifice – just as you had been taught by the village elders since you were a mere child. What you didn’t expect, however, was for the village to turn their back on you and suggest that what would be needed would be a human sacrifice to appease the giant once and for all.

Word Count: ~6k

Divider Credit: @/benkeibear

A/N: So sorry this took so long!! I've had a mess of a week so far. I hope the fic is worth the wait! Apologies for any spelling or grammatical errors (I tried my best).

A fire blazed in the heart of the village, crackling with embers floating gracefully and smoke ebbing above the tallest of houses – its heat a sharp contrast to the bitter cold of the autumn night. Members of the village surrounded the bonfire, sitting with their families as they feasted, bellies full with the meat stew that was provided for them. A single bowl was left untouched amongst each family – a welcoming invitation for the dead to engage in the festivities that were part of Vetrnætr.

As chieftain, you engaged with the families, wishing them good health and happiness as they did the same for you, before engaging in sumbel with them as you poured wine onto the grass below.

“Freyr will be most pleased by your worship.”

In a way of parting from families, you’d praise their good faith before moving on to the next family. The smiles were abundant amongst the villagers, and, once you’d made your way fully around the bonfire, you removed your sword from your scabbard and raised it high into the air.

“Today we celebrate, and are thankful to the god Freyr for a wonderful harvest. Please join me in this sacrifice, in order to show our thanks to the deities of all the Nine Realms.” 

However, before you could commit to the sacrifice – the poor lamb that was before you – a cold hand gripped at your shoulder, which made you turn in confusion.

“Perhaps I should tell you, before you engage in such an act, that the priest has some… concerns,” the man – Enmu you believed his name was – whispered. You sighed and sheathed your sword once more, your blood beginning to boil as you’d wondered what he could possibly want in the middle of the village’s celebration.

You trudged your way through the temple that resided on the outskirts of the village. The door creaked open as you walked through, and before you sat the village priest, who sat on a cushion made of feathers and animal skin. He upturned his lips upon seeing you, yet it wasn’t a true smile.

You knew he didn’t know how to, after all.

“Ah! My lovely Chieftain,” Douma drawled, “such a beautiful night to celebrate Vetrnætr, isn’t it? Although, I doubt that Freyr will grant you the beauty or fertility needed to continue your lineage this upcoming year, truly a shame,” he said, faking a pout. 

You fought the urge to ball your fists. The village elders, and, apparently now the village priest as well, had been pressing you for a child – particularly a son – however, despite many suitors attempting to lay their claim to the throne, and therefore you, none had been successful.

Despite this jab, you maintained composure, “what do you need from me, Douma? You’ve interrupted the sacrifice.” You stared him down, and he forced a small laugh.

“Oh my, a harsh tongue doesn’t suit you, dear Chief” he sneered, “You see, I have become aware of some rather concerning events – ones surrounding Ragnarök in particular,” he paused, observing you for any kind of reaction, “unfortunately, it seems Surtr has traveled from Muspelheim to Midgard.”

Your eyes widened, “how would he be able to do such a thing? He isn’t a deity–”

“–ah, but he is a jötunn, and therefore would have the ability to travel between the realms,” Douma countered, “did you never pay attention to my lessons during your youth?”

You rolled your eyes, “you speak as though we do not dedicate sacrifices to him with each solstice. You know appeasing his anger is one of my most steadfast beliefs.”

Douma hummed, “well, it appears that you did not follow through with this past solstice, my dear Chieftain – rather dedicating it to Freyr than to Surtr – and, to be completely honest, I am quite disappointed in that fact.”

The door shut behind you, and two warriors stood on either side of you. You grabbed the hilt of your sword, sensing distrust in the air.

“Do you know, Chieftain, what would be required to adequately appease the Ruler of Fire?”

You pulled out your sword and swung at the warrior on your right, an attack which was quickly blocked by his own weapon. You landed a kick to the left one’s stomach, only for it to be trapped in an unwavering grip by the warrior’s arms. You attempted to swing your sword at him in retaliation, only for your arm to also be grabbed by the one on your right.

Douma stood up and walked towards you, gripping your chin – the cold of his skin causing you to wince.

 “A proper, human sacrifice.”

A blow landed to the back of your neck, and your vision faded to black.

—

You awoke to a chill that laid upon your skin, feeling as though you were made of ice rather than of flesh. You were completely bare, lying on a wooden floor of what you presumed to be the priest’s sacred temple, as your vision was fully obstructed by a cloth which wrapped around your eyes. Upon moving your arms – which were thankfully in front of you and not behind, you noticed that your wrists were also bound by rope to prevent you from making any potential escape from Douma’s clutches.

Outside, you heard footsteps approaching, and the door swung open – causing you to flinch at the loud creak that sounded from it. A rough hand grabbed at your arm and pulled you up to your feet, forcing you outside where you heard murmurs of villagers on either side of you. Your cheeks flushed deep with embarrassment, the idea of your beloved villagers seeing you in such a state bringing tears to your eyes in pure shame.

“All of you, please say your final goodbyes to our beloved Chieftain – for she has volunteered to become the sacrifice that will appease Surtr and end his threats of Ragnarök!”

You couldn’t hear the cheers of your people over your pulse pounding in your ears, completely helpless as you were all but dragged along the dirt and gravel pathway before being placed on a horse. A faint rustling could be heard before you felt a rope tied around your neck.

“Be careful not to fall off, my dear Chieftain, lest your neck snap as you’re dragged along the rugged terrain by your horse,” Douma whispered to you before saddling himself onto a separate horse, and you could only assume that this rope was also tied to the horse in some way, thus forcing you to go wherever Douma led you.

You begrudgingly held tight against the horse’s mane as it went into a trot, the wind blowing harshly against your naked skin as the voices of the villagers slowly faded away, replaced by the clopping of hooves as you traversed to a place unfamiliar.

The horses did not stop, and you could only tell the passage of time as the cool of night gave way to the blazing heat of the sun that seared itself into your back. Hours must have passed, and your muscles grew sore the longer you traveled.

At some point, the horses slowed, and the sun’s heat was obstructed by a shadow which loomed above you. Again, a faint rustling could be heard before you were taking off of the horse’s back – yet the rope stayed wrapped around your neck, yet it was no longer taut if you tried pulling away from the horse’s body. You were dragged into the cool shadow, before a hand gripped at your hair.

“Such a shame you never produced a son,” Douma muttered into your ear, “you wouldn’t have to die if you were nice and fertile, my dear Chieftain.”

You could only imagine the nasty grin on his face as he pushed you forward, causing you to lose your footing and fall what could’ve been roughly two meters before hitting solid rock. You heard laughter above you before it started to fade away.

Luckily, the fall seemed to loosen the cloth which covered your eyes, allowing you to see out of one of them, yet you doubted it would be of much help as you got your bearings and realized that you were indeed alone in a dark cave, being left to starve and rot as a form of sacrifice to Surtr.

You decided, that if you were going to die anyway, that you’d at least explore the cave you were pushed into.

It was dark, yet not damp, the stone beneath you as dry as the walls that surrounded you, and you wondered if the sun somehow reached its way into the depths of this cave to evaporate the moisture. There was no life, not a single lizard or insect to be seen – although a few animal bones would be strewn about here and there as you continued your descent further into the cave.

You traversed further, being careful to not trip over any rocks or pitfalls. After what seemed to be an hour of exploration, you saw the tiniest spark of light in the distance.

Perhaps a way out? You thought, and walked closer to this flickering light, and the rather narrow tunnel you were in gave way to a large cavern – with a large bonfire in the middle, one much larger than the one in your village during the celebration of Vetrnætr. 

Unlike the blazing heat of the sun from earlier, the warmth of the bonfire was comforting, with its orange hue flickering along the walls of the cavern.

As you got closer, you heard the slightest shifting from the other side of the cavern, followed by what could only be described as a low growl. You froze, unsure of how to proceed in front of a potential predator with nothing to defend yourself with. You slowly crouched and walked towards the bonfire, and, despite your hands being tied, managed to pick up one of the smaller logs on the outer ring of the fire before dousing the tip of it in flames – a weapon, should you need to use it.

As you slowly walked around the bonfire, you found a rather peculiar sight – realizing that the growl did not come from the likes of an animal.

But who– or what was before you was certainly not human.

The being before you was huge, possibly even a jötunn. You were never one to doubt your beliefs, but the idea that a creature from another realm was before your very eyes was difficult to swallow. However, from what you could remember from your religious texts, a jötunn is the only creature you could bring yourself to categorize it as. 

The creature had large, curved horns that were sizable in their girth, and its tusks – not fangs – emerged up from its lower jaw. What’s more, it had pointed ears on either side of its head which emerged through hair resembling that of fire, locks that matched the finest gold and ruby gemstones that would cost a fortune in your village.

Unlike the face, its body looked quite human – although its very naked form boasted large, dense muscles throughout its entire body, and a cock that made you swallow absentmindedly from just how threatening its size was.

The creature was stroking its girth, thumbing itself over the leaking slit – a slight shudder escaping from its throat. It started to fuck itself into its grip, thrusting quickly as though chasing its release. Its other hand was fondling its balls – which looked heavy and full of seed, before having its hand move slightly upward towards the slightly swollen base of its cock, softly massaging it to seemingly ease the tension it caused.

Fully flushed with embarrassment, you backed away from the creature before you, each step seemingly calculated in order to escape this situation.

Is the creature sentient? It seems to be humanoid– does that mean it can think like a human? What if it’s a predator and kills me? 

Thoughts rushed through your mind, seemingly going into a frenzy as you worried about potential outcomes of this situation.

Crack!

In your panic, you managed to step on a stray twig that managed to stray from the center of the bonfire.

The creature stopped its movements, and immediately turned its head to the source of the sound.

Its amber and crimson eyes opened and glared into yours.

“F-Fuck—!”

With one glance over your naked form, the creature before you released its seed, spilling it all over its fist and shaft, with the remaining drops dribbling onto its lower abdomen. It continued to slowly rub its fist up and down its length, closing its eyes as it played with its tip up until the last of its cum dribbled out from the slit, before tensing and looking back at you, eyes widening in shock – as though it couldn’t believe you were actually there.

“I’m sorry!” the creature exclaimed, a blush so red blooming across its cheeks that it seemingly felt the same amount of embarrassment as you. It hastily wiped itself clean on the furred animal skin it was laying upon. “I– I can explain, really– just– who are you? Why are you here?” 

You were in shock, so much so that you couldn’t even eke out a full sentence. Your eyes drifted down to its cock once more, which – much to your surprise – was still standing incredibly tall and proud as it curved up towards the creature’s stomach. Heat prickled across your cheeks and down your chest as the fiery-haired being used its hands to cover itself up in front of you – sensing that you might be uncomfortable from bearing witness to such an event.

This is ridiculous, you thought, you are the Chieftain of your village – compose yourself!

“I am Y/N, leader of my village and child of a family of famed warriors,” you introduced yourself. 

The creature raised an eyebrow to you in response.

“And what exactly brings a village leader into my cave?” 

You hesitated, humiliation flooding your veins even more so than before.

“I– I was overthrown by the village priest and have been made a sacrifice to Surtr, the Ruler of Fire.”

You expected laughter from the jötunn before you, closing your eyes to hide whatever dignity you had left from what Douma stripped from you. However, instead of hearing a cacophony of hearty noises from the creature’s throat, you instead heard the thud of footsteps approaching you. 

Slowly, the jötunn reached forward and removed the bandages which obstructed your vision, loosening and pulling them away with his large fingers, careful to not touch you unnecessarily in the process.

Your eyes widened as you looked up at the giant, his eyes surprisingly kind as he looked down at you. He bunched the bandages in his hands before tossing them to the side, then continued untie the ropes that were digging into your wrists and cast them aside as well.

“If what you say is true, please inform your village that I do not take human sacrifices.”

Your heart seemed to have traveled up to your throat, its beats both fast and fluttery.

“That would imply that I could go back– wait, what are you talking about?”

Then, the creature did finally let out a laugh – a small chuckle that rose from his chest and was deep and bassy as it rose through his throat.

“My dear human, I am the one you people refer to as Surtr.” 

You stopped, instinctively stepping back – away from the creature that just claimed to be the harbinger of destruction – the one to bring flames that will engulf all nine realms and Yggdrasil itself.

You did what you believed best, and forced your body to the rocky floor of the cave, bowing in absolute submission and respect for such a being – nearly cowering in the presence of such raw power presented before you.

“Stand up, please, there’s no need for that here.”

You looked up at the being before you, rather confused by his words.

He sighed, “you humans have beliefs of me that are so far from the truth, it’s saddening.”

A pause, the only sound in the cavern being the crackling of the wood against flames.

“My real name is Kyojuro, the name ‘Surtr’ is a title bestowed upon me that I did not wish to receive. I am not going to harm you or your village, I do not wish for such evil. Whatever “priest” thought that a human sacrifice would appease this nonexistent will of mine is, to put simply, a fool.”

You let out a shaky breath, and he reached out his hand – one that dwarfed your own – toward you. 

“Stand up.”

He was smiling as you took his hand, with a gaze that was comforting and kind as he sent sparks through your skin with his touch.

The prickling heat returned to your cheeks.

“I’ll help you get back to your village,” he promised.

You froze, your heartbeat quickening once more as you registered his words.

“I can’t– please, I can’t go back, not after what they did to me,” you started, preparing yourself to beg and plead this god-like creature for mercy.

Kyojuro frowned, “I understand, but I can’t keep you here. You need to leave, I– I can’t have you stay.”

You knew it was selfish, to leave your people in the hands of Douma, but after what he did to you– after how he humiliated you.

Where the fire in your village was scalding, his was warm. Where those treated you with indifference or malice, he had been nothing but kind.

Was it really worth going back?

“I’d like to stay,” you decided.

Kyojuro stopped, each and every second becoming more and more difficult for the jötunn. Every passing moment he ignored his very obvious problem, he became this much closer to just bending you over and taking you like a wild animal. His blood was hot in his veins, and fire licked at his lower abdomen, pleasure bubbling once more to the surface as he continued to endure his heat.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me, human,” he warned. He was using every ounce of his willpower in order to maintain his composure. His heat was going to near its peak soon, and he needed you away from him before that happened. He came to Midgard to weather it alone in his cave, and you were only making it all the more difficult.

“Kyojuro,” you uttered softly, and the creature before you let out a low growl, “will you let me stay if I…help?” 

His cock twitched, precum dribbling slowly out of the tip, with the base of it swelling up once more.

“I don’t want you to try and sell yourself to me as though you’re a piece of meat. I–” he swallowed, “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t allow you to do that.”

“Kyojuro, I want to help you. I want this,” you assured, and he balled his hands into fists, as though the rope holding him together was about to snap.

“Y/N–” he warned, and you rolled your eyes.

“Please, fuck me, Kyojuro.”

The jötunn grabbed your arm, “if– if we are to do this, you must know that I am in heat, and I–” he swallowed, “I may not be able to control myself should we continue.”

You took your hand and brushed your fingers across his tightened grip, causing slight shivers to flow down his spine.

“Lose control, Kyojuro, I can take it.”

He groaned, and with his strength, picked you up and collided his lips with yours. Your hands sought either side of his face, kissing back with fervor as he moaned into your mouth. His tusks surprisingly didn’t obstruct your access to his mouth, and every once in a while he’d nip at your bottom lip, before laving his tongue over the swollen skin and pushing it into your mouth. You let out a small moan at the intrusion, and wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers finding purchase in his wild, fiery hair.

His grip on your body moved from your hips back towards your ass, cupping and massaging the muscle with his hands. His cock was stiff against your inner thigh, the precum spreading along your skin with each small movement. You wrapped your legs around his waist, moaning as his cock slipped between your legs and along your slit – the sheer girth of it a little worrisome as it pressed against your heat.

“Shit– so big, Kyojuro, hah–” you panted, and he growled.

“Never had cock this big before, have you? Don’t worry, dear, I’ll get you nice and ready to take me.”

He shifted your weight onto one of his arms, the muscles flexing as he shifted his other hand beneath you. Two of his fingers started rubbing along your clit, making small circular motions as his other hand groped at the fat of your ass. He lifted you up a little more so his mouth was in line with your breasts and pursed his lips around one of your perked up tits, sucking at it and licking broad stripes with his tongue. He groaned around your tit as he played with your pussy, reveling in how wet you were for him already. The mini vibrations sent electricity down your spine, and you moved your head to rest on his broad shoulder, giving small kisses to his neck as you whined from his ministrations.

“Lips feel so good, dear, love it when you kiss me like that,” he sighed, giving kisses to each of your breasts, “want to apologize for my earlier…release, you were just so beautiful…seeing you all naked ‘n presenting for me like that…made me want to breed you, pretty girl,” Kyojuro confessed, causing you to shiver as he softly whispered such filthy thoughts into your ear.

“Mmh– don’t apologize, Kyo– liked watchin’ you,” you admitted, and he let out a light chuckle, which made you lightly slap his rocky chest. He responded by giving a small bite to your breast, before licking it better with his skilled tongue.

“Yeah? You like the idea of me wanting to breed you? Getting you pregnant with my young?” he asked, his fingers moving from your clit down towards your entrance, where he inserted a single thick digit into your heat. You whined as your pussy clenched around the intrusion, and nodded in response, licking a stripe up his neck before kissing back down it again.

His finger thrust into you, curling against that one sensitive area inside of you as his thumb reached for and played with your clit. The moans that you let out echoed throughout the cavern, with the only other sounds being the shlick of Kyojuro’s finger deep in your cunt and the crackling of flames. After a while, he added a second digit, and slowly but surely worked you towards your peak, the tension slowly building up in your gut.

With one last swipe against your clit with his thumb, you came undone, your orgasm causing you to shudder and whine in his hold as he worked you through it, curling his fingers and rubbing your clit as you rode out each wave. 

“Kyo–” you moaned, trying to grind your hips down on his fingers, and he smiled before meeting your lips in a heated kiss. He continued thrusting his fingers up into your now weeping cunt, prepping you nice and good to take his much thicker cock.

He walked back toward his makeshift bed – a pile of furs and animal skins which he must’ve collected prior to his heat – and gently placed you down on top of them. His large hands moved down your thighs, rubbing softly up and down your plush skin as he stared at the slick between your legs. He lowered himself between your thighs and inhaled deeply as he tried desperately to memorize your scent. He licked a stripe up your slit, causing you to jolt at the sensation, and moaned as your taste spread over his tongue like honey.

You squirmed underneath his touch, which made him hold your hips in place as he started to devour you. His tongue flicked over your clit before collecting more of your juices on his tongue. Your hands found his horns and gripped them tightly, pushing his head further between your thighs, earning a groan from Kyojuro. He pursed his lips and sucked at your clit before licking at it in circular motions, moving his hand between your legs again and pushing two digits inside your cunt once more, thrusting in and out of your hole with his fingers. After adding a third finger, he started curling his fingers into that one spot again, his movements quick and deft as he brought you to your second orgasm. 

You moaned loudly as you came undone, legs shaking as your grip on his horns tightened, trying your best to buck your hips up into his face as he lapped up all of the juices that seeped out of your pussy. Only when you were able to open your eyes once more did you look down to see Kyojuro humping himself onto the fur pelts as he messily gathered the rest of your release onto his tongue.

“Kyo– please, I need you,” you whined, and he looked up at you with a fire ignited in his eyes. He got up, stroking his thick cock as he looked down upon your much smaller form.

“Get on all fours for me.”

Without hesitation, you rolled over and got on your hands and knees. Kyojuro kneeled behind you and placed his cock in between your wet folds, rubbing the tip up and down as his precum mixed with your juices. He shuddered before slowly pushing the head inside, causing you to tense slightly from how big the intrusion was.

“Relax for me, won’t you?” he asked softly.

You tried your best to relax, and he started to push more of his length inside of you, filling you up more than you ever thought possible. For a moment, he stayed like that, relishing in the feeling of your cunt tightly wrapped around his throbbing cock, his hips flush against your ass as you whined for him to move, please.

“Let me have this moment, dear, I– I haven’t felt something this wonderful in centuries,” he confessed, and you let out a soft mewl before complying with what he wanted. 

After a few more moments, his cock dragged out of you slowly before thrusting back in. He rocked into you, slowly at first, which was most likely for the better considering how huge he was. He growled as he thrust into you, his heavy balls slapping against your clit as he reached underneath you to hold your stomach, pressing up slightly as he fully fucked his cock into you.

“Shit– you feel that, pretty girl? Feel my cock deep inside you?” he groaned, and you nodded helplessly, letting out a whine as he continued his movements. “Feel so good wrapped around me, so fuckin’ tight f’ me.”

You choked out another moan as he started increasing his speed, his groans becoming more frequent with each thrust. Kyojuro took his hand and gently tilted your chin up so you could look at him.

“Won’t last much longer, pretty girl,” he leaned down and kissed you, “gonna pull out, promise.”

You whined, “no– please, need your cum, Kyo– need it inside.”

He moaned loudly, “you have no idea what you’re asking of me, pretty. You’d end up taking my knot–”

“I want your knot, Kyo! Please give it to me–!”

Kyojuro thrust even harder into your sopping cunt upon hearing that, “fuck, you want my knot? I’ll get you fucking pregnant, fill you up with my young ‘n get your belly all swollen, you sure you want that?”

“Yes! Please Kyo–! Please–”

With a couple last thrusts, Kyojuro shot his seed inside of you, thick ropes painting your insides white and filling you up to the brim. You moaned as you felt the warmth spread deep inside of your cunt, and, before his release could begin to seep out of your pussy, a burning stretch began inside your abused hole. Realizing this is what Kyojuro meant by his knot, you tried to look behind you to catch sight of his cock seemingly expanding inside of your pussy, keeping his cum nicely plugged inside of you.

Kyojuro was panting, his voice rough as he pulled you up onto his lap.

“Good fuckin’ girl, taking my knot so well.” He looked down at your chest as you sat in his lap, his cock still rock hard and throbbing inside your wet cunt.

“Can’t wait to see these breasts filled with milk, gonna be such a good mommy, aren’t you?” he said before taking one of your tits in his mouth and sucking at it, as though he were trying to get you to produce milk already for him, and eventually his young, to feed on.

“Kyo, I– I’m sorry, but I’m not fertile, I– I’ve never been able to produce an heir with another man,” you sighed, and his eyes looked up to meet yours. “I’m really sorry, it’s why I was thrown down here in the first place” you continued, hoping your words wouldn’t anger him.

Instead of becoming angry, he simply placed you back down on the fur pelts and brought your legs up towards your shoulders so that you were folded completely in half. He then crouched over you, keeping you locked in a mating press with him.

“I’m no simple man, my dear human,” he kissed your lips, “if I say I will breed you and fill you with my young–” he paused, thrusting deeply into your cunt.

“–I mean every single word.”

Kyojuro started fucking into you with renewed fervor, his stamina seemingly having increased despite already releasing inside of you once. His cock reached deeper inside of you, and you could swear you felt him all the way in your throat. Every single thrust of his hips had you a whining mess, taking his knot until your pussy molded into the shape of his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it, take it all,” he groaned before pressing his mouth to yours once more. His tongue plunged past your lips – prompting you to suck on it, causing him to fall over the edge again, his hips stilling as he pumped a second load of cum into your needy cunt. You whined as he didn’t stop – continuing to fuck into your abused cunt despite cumming twice, his cock still stiff and leaking with every thrust. You felt his seed sloshing around in your womb, feeling so incredibly full by both his cum and his fat cock.

“Mine,” he growled while pumping himself into you, “you’re fucking mine.”

You could only nod and whine in response, having been completely fucked dumb by his cock.

“Pregnant.” He pummeled his cock deep into your cunt, “getting you pregnant. Fuck. Gonna have a round belly filled with my young, tits swelling with milk, I’ll keep you here – gonna be the mother to my children, gonna treat mommy so well, hunt for you, protect you, everything you could ever want.”

You moaned, your cunt clenching around his cock upon listening to his promises.

“Wan’ it,” you managed, “wan’ to be a good mommy so– fuck– so bad.”

Kyojuro groaned, his cock twitching inside of you as it swelled even more. “Can’t stop thinking of my young suckling on your breasts, tits producing so much milk that all of them have their fill– shit, gonna cum again, gonna fill you up– fuck!” 

He spilled into you once more, filling your cunt up completely with his seed, ensuring that it takes, making good on his promise. His fingers flicked at your clit and your own orgasm came crashing down around you, pure euphoria flowing through your veins as you let out a silent scream from the seemingly endless waves of pleasure addling your mind.

Kyojuro rolled over and had you collapse on top of him, his arms reaching around your torso and holding you close.

“Did you mean what you said? About wanting to stay?” he whispered, slight insecurity being carried through his tone.

You gave him a quick peck to his lips, “yes, Kyojuro, you– you’ve been so kind to me, much more than anyone else in that damned village. I’d love to stay with you.”

He smiled softly at you, his eyes glowing with warmth as he cradled your head into his neck, petting at your hair as the two of you fell asleep next to the flickering bonfire.

—

A few months had passed, and you were waiting for your lover to return from his hunt. He had promised a large meal today, and you were excited to see what he had planned for the two of you.

You rubbed your baby bump as you cozied up next to the fire, resting in a heap of animal furs which acted as bedding for the two of you. You were surprised to find out that you were pregnant, but Kyojuro had sensed it about a month after you two had first met, and proceeded to treat you as though every step you took turned the rocks beneath your feet into gold. 

The bump was rather large for only being a few months in, and your breasts were already swelling and leaking with milk, but Kyojuro had told you that it was normal – considering that his young would be half-jötunn. He quelled your fears of labor, saying that he would help you in every way that he possibly could when it came time to have the baby.

After a few hours, Kyojuro came back to the cavern, carrying your meal over his shoulder.

“How is my love doing?” he asked with the biggest smile on his face, causing you to giggle as you attempted to get up to greet him. Kyojuro rushed over to you, ensuring that you don’t so much as lift a finger while carrying his young. He leaned down and gave you a soft kiss before dragging your meal to the bonfire and beginning to cook it.

“Mmh– Kyo? Could you help me a little bit, my tits feel so swollen,” you pouted, and his ears damn near perked up at your words.

“Oh? Does mommy need some relief?” he asked teasingly, and you nodded. Kyojuro walked over to you and knelt down, his hands reaching to massage your breasts slowly. He kneaded them and licked at the milk which dribbled out, letting it coat over his tongue. His lips wrapped around one of your tits, and he sucked slowly, moaning as he drank from you. You whined when he moved to the other tit and performed the same actions, relief sinking in the more he suckled the milk out of you.

“Taste so good, pretty girl,” he whispered before getting up again to cook the meat he brought in.

You pouted again, “need you, Kyo, please,” and he laughed.

“You can have me after we eat, does that sound okay?” he compromised, and you sighed but nodded in agreement.

You laid back and rested upon the pile of furs, smiling in contentment as you looked at the two meals that were set out before you.

“I love you, Kyo,” you admitted, unashamed by your feelings as they echoed throughout the cavern.

Kyojuro froze, glancing back at you briefly before continuing to prepare the food, trying his best to hide the blush that traveled across his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

“I love you, too, my little flame.”

Taglist: @k-a-t-h-r-i-n-a, @wow-im-gay, @peanutpunchy, @love-me-satoru, @crazycatlddy, @dinosaur-crime-scene, @thisbicc, @gojoscumslut, @everyonesfinaldestination, @leehoonii-i, @kyojurismo, @briefrebelfanalmond, @izuoyarmin, @ahashiraswife, @d1gitalbathh, @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701

If your name is crossed out, it means tumblr didn't allow me to tag you! Apologies for the inconvenience.

#demon slayer #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #kny smut #demon slayer smut #kyojuro smut #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #kny kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyojuro x y/n #rengoku smut #rengoku x reader #kny rengoku #rengoku kyōjurō #demon slayer rengoku #rengoku x y/n #rengoku x you #kyojuro x you #rengoku kyojuro x reader #rengoku kyojuro smut #kyojuro rengoku smut #kyojuro rengoku x y/n #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader

[nonsensical-pixels]

STRANGERVILLE: A COLLECTION OF CLOTHING ITEMS FROM THE SIMS 4 PACK, CONVERTED TO THE SIMS 2 + BONUS [download - 🌵]

welcome to the nonsensical-pixels blog: inconsistent previews since est. 2022!

have you ever gotten frustrated by the lack of desert-appropriate clothing out there? maybe you just want your sims to wear anything other than long knitted cardigans in hot weather. or hey, maybe you just like the vibes that come with the strangerville game pack and want them for ts2. well look no further, my strangerville collection is here!

started working on this set at the start of the month, while i was still playing strangertown (rip) but left it to cool for awhile while i went off to play some other custom 'hoods. well, until i started playing natosi by @oceansmotion recently and was in desperate need of more desert clothing, so i decided to resurrect this old project!

there are 6 clothing items included: 2 for adult females, 2 for adult males, and 2 for unisex kids! 🥳 age conversions are welcome!

i know that the original ts4 game pack isn't everyone's cup of tea--personally, it was my favourite--but the clothing sure looks great for ts2! again... at least in my opinion. i hope your desert-dwelling sims enjoy these new cas items--and the 'lil bonus i included!

credits go to ea/maxis for the original meshes & textures 💝

keep reading for more info, rambles, and preview pics + the bonus download i mentioned!

MAIN DOWNLOAD: All 6 CAS Items!

click on the name for an individual preview!

ITEMS INCLUDED ARE: 1 - GP07 Denim Shearling (2762 polys, ym-am only, 9 swatches) 2 - GP07 Dress Crop Top (5101 polys, yf-af only, 9 swatches) 3 - GP07 Dress Layered (4847 polys, yf-af only, 12 swatches) 4 - GP07 Jacket Denim (2908 polys, cu only, 10 swatches) 5 - GP07 Shirt Long (4116 polys, cu only, 11 swatches) 6 - GP07 Shirt Western (2489 polys, ym-am only, 9 swatches) note: Dress Crop Top may have some mild bone issues around the sleeves, i tried my best 😔

*individual previews & swatches can also be found in the download!

THINGS TO NOTE: - The 'Dress Crop Top' is paired with the BG 'Shoes Ankle Pixie', converted by me - The 'Dress Layered' is paired with the GP07 'Boots High Western', converted by me - The 'Shirt Long' is paired with the GP01 'Boots Hiking', converted by me yeah, there's a lot of stuff converted by me

BONUS DOWNLOAD: AI-Generated Desert Photo Backdrops! [download - 🏜]

oh, and because i struggled a lot finding a good backdrop for my previews... have a bonus download! i cloned & edited one of honeywell's easy peasy backdrops to remove the props, and changed up the uv map slightly. then i made random sims 4 themed desert recolors using night cafe! there are 4 swatches in total.

credits go to honeywell for the original mesh & night cafe for the backdrop swatches!

i hope everyone enjoys the items in this download! i worked really hard on them and i can't wait to use them more in my own game! i'm also really proud of my new preview lot haha, i love my new backdrops 📷

part 2 of this will come... whenever i feel like it lol. not too excited by the other items in this set.

if you read this far, happy simming, lmk if there are any issues, and please do remember,

with love,

~ Ky (nonsensical-pixels)

#s2cc #sims 2 cc #the sims 2 #sims 2 download #ts2 #the sims 2 cc #ts2 download #4t2 #4t2 conversion #4t2 cas #long post

[imminent-danger-came]

SWK being so flawed is like one of LMK's strongest bits. I feel like a different show would just have him be infallible or have him be like a twist villain or irredeemable or something. But he's neither of those, he's just incredibly flawed. It's also interesting that even though Mei and Pigsy are critical of him, they're still shown to care about him.

All in all, hes a more complicated character than people give him credit for :/

I 100% agree!

Honestly, if Sun Wukong wasn't flawed I'd find him a bit boring. You remove his flaws and you remove the meat of his character. Even all the way back in season 1 you get the feeling he's withholding information and concealing his past ("Show me the real Sun Wukong! The old you would have leveled this whole mountain range to stop me!"), and that only becomes more and more prevalent as the show goes on.

Wukong is first introduced as a hero, as the King who defended the world from DBK. Next he's introduced as a mentor, planning to make MK his successor (which I think is pretty debatable at this point, as I've said I personally think he just needed an excuse to train MK).

Slowly we learn SWK is pretty terrible at both of those things. He's not the hero or mentor anyone thought he would be—he's not even the mentor he thought he would be:

Macaque: “Haha, you saw a story about a hero who got handed everything, who didn’t have to work for anything, and you thought you were the other guy? The second the hero got real power, he couldn’t care less about his friends.” [ - ] "You know, I meant what I said—you really are a good kid. A good kid, with a really terrible teacher." (2x07 Shadow Play)

-

Pigsy: "Back from what? Your vacation? No- what could have been SO important you'd leave MK alone to face that- that thing! You're supposed to be his mentor!" (2x10 This is the End!)

-

Sun Wukong: "I know I can never make it up to you. Honestly I- I never thought I'd live as long as I have let alone be someone's mentor—turns out I'm not very good at it. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry MK, for all of it." (3x14 Destiny Fulfilled)

-

(he's staring sadly at a bowl of soup, never a good sign.)

s1 of Monkie Kid, as well as the Revenge of the Spider Queen special, establish a baseline. We meet Wukong as we're meant to know him—the legendary yet cheeky hero. Now that he's retired, Monkey King is training the next generation to protect the world and be the heroes in his place.

Right?

Well, just like our perception of Wukong, our perception of the role of the hero slowly degrades as well:

Lady Bone Demon: “Heroes? Please, you’re mere agents of chaos, the very thing I aspire to eradicate in this new world. No more destruction, no more disorder, I WILL HAVE PERFECTION.” (3x12 The Corrupted King)

-

Curse MK: "We’re just like Wukong. A fraud! A trickster! Destructive! Why would our legacy be any different? Actually, no no- the chaos and destruction we’ll bring upon the world will make Wukong’s past look like nothing." (4x07 Pitiful Creatures)

-

MK: "That can't be true! Monkey King's a hero he wouldn't just—" Azure Lion: "You saw it with your own eyes! His betrayal, his brutality—he took the only friends I had from me." (4x08 The Brotherhood)

-

Heroes aren't people fighting for the side of good, or even for what they think is right—they're agents of chaos. Destructive. "All doomed to play a role in tearing this world apart." Heroes are introduced as one thing, and then slowly revealed to be another.

Heroes, just like Wukong and anyone else, are flawed. They still make wrong choices. They still hurt people. Of course Wukong isn't a twist villain or irredeemable, because ultimately he IS a hero with plenty of the positive traits that come with that. But heroes are also flawed, and this is something I think is at the core of Lego Monkie Kid.

You can love someone, and that someone can do plenty of good, but that doesn't mean they're not broken, or that they aren't capable of causing suffering. This isn't something that only applies to Wukong either—pick any character and I'm sure you could apply this to them.

Now, all this to say that Wukong's two fatal flaws are his lack of communication and his self-sacrificial tendencies. Like Azure Lion says—he has a habit of keeping people at arms length, and more often than not doing that to protect them. These tendencies lead to his downfall.

So! Let's make some lists of where we see these flaws in the show.

Wukong's lack of Communication:

"Look, I'm going to come clean—um, I've been kind of watching you."

Leaving MK and lying to him during s2 (this includes lying about both going on vacation AND that LBD had returned)

Keeping his plan to stop LBD a secret during s3

"Where I got my staff!" "Got or took, right? You took it?"

Not telling the gang about the 4th ring

Other lies I'm sure have yet to be revealed (such as the truth about MK's origins, if that's the direction the plot's going)

Him and Macaque's past

Wukong's Self-sacrificial tendencies:

Leaving during s2 to find a way to stop LBD on his own

"What!? You're not going I'm going!" "Yeah so, here's the problem, you guys have this thing called mortality, so-"

Gravely injuring himself to get the samadhi fire Map

Blocking the brunt of the samadhi fire to protect MK in 3x10

Originally planning to put the Samadhi Fire in himself

Going off to fight the Lady Bone Demon alone

Protecting MK from the curse in 4x01

(and this post here that travels into theory territory)

Now, most, if not all, of these decisions lead to something bad happening. It's very in line with MK's words in 4x08:

MK: It doesn’t matter if I want to help people or not! Everything I do just- it just makes things worse!”

Wukong, even if he has a very questionable way of going about it, is truly motivated by protecting the people he cares about. However, these choices also hurt those same people. Not to reference samadhi fire Mei another time, but this is EXACTLY what she points out:

Mei: "We trusted you! All of us! How could you lead us into the fight without a real plan? Time and time again I've watched you put MK in danger leaving him to figure out EVERYTHING on his own. Don't you realize you're hurting the people who care about you the most?" (3x10 The Samadhi Fire)

But that's the point, isn't it? Even with all these flaws and after all these mistakes, Wukong still tries (he's very much like Mei in that regard):

Sun Wukong: “Point is, mistakes happen, but so long as you leave the world in better shape than you found it, then it’s all good. Right?” (4x01 Familiar Tales)

-

Sun Wukong: “We can’t change who we were yesterday or in a past life, or a hundred life times ago! We live with the choices we’ve made, for what matter is the choices we make RIGHT NOW! Only we decide who we are and what we do with the power we have.” (4x07 Pitiful Creatures)

-

This is who Wukong is. He's not a hero or a mentor, but he's someone who cares (and maybe that's what a hero is). That's the tragedy of his character, really. That's the tragedy of both him and MK. They're people doing the best with what they have, but still failing anyways.

"Nice hero speech bud, but I know better—deep in your hearts, you don't believe a word of that."

-

But people still love you anyways.

#Wukong fans eat up #God I do love Wukong. #Look at him he's just as doomed by the narrative as anyone else #lmk meta #lmk #lego monkie kid #monkie kid #lmk SWK #lmk Sun Wukong #asks #Sincerely hope people read all of this so I don't get any ''stop bashing wukong'' comments this time adsfadsfafds #but yeah this is why Wukong knowing the truth about MK the whole time works so well #LIKE COME ON. THE SET UP IS ALL THERE. THE FORESHADOWING IS ALL THERE. #THE CHARACTER CHOICES ARE ALL THERE #also: didn't feel like adding it but Wukong disappearing after sealing DBK is so concerning #Like my brother. What pushed you to do that #What happened

[meikudan]

Extra Credit

ღ synopsis ღ Reading failed nanami’s class, but has another way to pass!!

ღ length ღ 1.5k

ღ warnings ღ nsfw/smut, slight age gap (reader is 23 nanami is 28), choking, squirting, oral (f receiving), mama/daddy/good girl/princess, begging, creampie, overall very smutty!! (lmk if I missed anything!) (half assed proofreading lol)

“Hey y/n, i was grading your papers and I noticed your technic when writing. Why don’t you come in tomorrow after your classes and have a chat with me about it.” You felt this aching feeling in your stomach, a very nervous feeling. “Professor Nanami, did I do something wrong? Was the paper not to your expectation?” Your hands were fidgeting behind your back. “Just, see me tomorrow.” You left his classroom with a confused expression on your face. Unsure of what the case was, you went back to your dorm, anxious for the next day to come. At the end of your classes, you met your professor in his office. “Sit down.” His voice was quite stern, the anxious feeling came back even worse. You sat down in the chair in front of him, and he looked up at you. “The paper you wrote, your final exam? You failed it. You’re about to fail this class, y/n.” You felt your stomach drop at the sound of his voice. His words stabbed right through you. “B-but Professor Nanami.. I worked really hard on it..” Your voice was shaking, tears peeking, your vision got blurry. You felt your face heating up, and a lump forming in your throat. He stands up and walks over to you, his frame towering over you. He stepped down to your level and whispered in your ear, “Don’t cry princess.” His tone was gentle, but this was all very foreign to you. Your stomach was twisting and turning as he caressed your cheek and wiped your tears away. “I’m not going to let you fail my class.” You looked up at him and his eyes were completely set on you. Full of lust. “W-what do you mean? Are you gonna let me rewrite the paper, professor?” He chuckled at your innocence, though deep down, he knew you weren’t innocent.

He gently pushed you down, back against the table. You yelped and gasped as he dipped down to give light kisses on your neck. You really didn’t wanna fail his class or else your parents would be very disappointed. You had no choice but to let him have his way with you, you weren’t complaining though. He kissed down your body, all the way to your soaking lace lingerie. “Looks like you wanted this, pussy already soaking for me huh baby girl.” He patted his palm on your pussy. He kissed your plump thighs, small bite marks forming all over them. You felt a tingle in your stomach, excited for what’s gonna happen next. “I need your consent to taste this pretty cunt, sweetheart.” You looked up and down at him, trying to grasp everything that has happened in the past 5 minutes. You were shaking, and somehow couldn’t get your words out. “I.. you can..” You were a shuddering mess talking to him. “You can do it baby, you can use your words.” He was caressing your cheek to remove some of the anxiety that was roaming over you. “You don’t want to fail my class, I know you don’t. Be a good girl and tell your professor that he can fuck you until he’s satisfied.” You felt like you were in a trance, listening to the way he spoke to you. It made you wanna listen to him, devote your body to him. You mumbled on your breath, “P-please destroy me, professor” As soon as those words came out your mouth, he bent down on his knees and spread your legs open. He rolled your undies up your thighs and tossed them behind him. His breath fanned against your leaking cunt, you were so wet and desperate for his tongue against it. He then dove in, not giving you any time to prepare yourself. He was lapping at the sweet nectar of your pussy, you felt the urge to tug on his hair, but you didn’t wanna hurt him by pulling it too hard. “Tug on it baby” The professor looked up at you while licking rough at your folds, admiring how cute you were. “I- I don’t want to hurt you..” He stopped his action for a second. “Do you want to?” “Yeah.. but I-“ “Then do it.” He interrupted you in an instant. You held back it bit, but once he started devouring you again. You tugged tightly on his hair, whimpers and moans escaping your mouth. Your other hand felt around his desk, something else to grab onto to. After a bit of his sucking around your folds, you gave in, and both of your hands were tugging on his soft hair. You then felt helpless, your hips were causing a ruckus against his face. Your moans got louder, and your professor could tell you were close. “Gonna come on my face, sweetheart?” He was looking up at you, you felt your stomach knotting. “I’m g-gonna cum, professor!!” You yelled out his name, you ended up squirting on his face. The professor slowly stood up licking your juices off his singers. You got so embarrassed, you found your hands covering your face and apologizing over and over again. He found you so cute, chuckling at your reactions. “It’s okay baby you taste amazing” he said leaning in for a kiss. Your lips met his. It was a very deep and passionate kiss. You’ve been thinking about the hard rock between his pants for a while. You couldn’t stop eyeing it. Soon enough, you felt bold enough to reach out for it. He looked at you with quiet surprise, but eventually he gave you a lustful smile and his eyes rested low. You could tell it was big, how tall it was sticking up against the fabric of his pants. “I want.. I need it.” You managed to get those words out. You noticed your professor was such a tease and wouldn’t give it to you the easily. A while later he was slapping the tip of his hard, red tipped cock between your slick folds. You were a whining mess, getting frustrated as seconds past. “You want it badly, don’t you. Tell me how bad you want it.” Your cheeks were burning red upon his request. “P-please I need you so bad right now.” You mumbled under your breath. “Tell me more. Louder.” He raised his voice at you. You could tell he was getting impatient. “Please… I need you. I want you so bad I-I’ll do anything p-please..” He smiled at you. "What's my name?" A confused look formed on your face. "Professor Nanami?" He slapped the tip of his cock on your pussy. You let out a high pitched squeal. He knew you knew what he was trying to get you to call him. "Please.. d-daddy." A while after that name came out of your mouth, the room filled with sounds of hard clapping, you had no time to catch your breathe. “S-so fucking tight..” Your pussy was clenching so tight around his fat, girthy cock. Your thoughts were clouded, you couldn’t understand a thing he was saying. “I-m gonna c-cum!!” Your fourth orgasm was approaching. “Gonna cum on my cock again, hmm?” You felt what was coming. You were gonna squirt all over his cock, afraid of the reaction you’d get out of him. You might've gushed in his face, but on his cock was most embarrassing to you. “S-stop I don’t wanna!” He looked down at you and wrapped his hand around your throat. Just a tight squeeze. “You don’t wanna what mama?” His grip around your neck got tighter, oxygen being cut off by the second. You felt it rushing faster than you expected. “It’s c-coming!!” Your voice got quiet and your eyes rolled to an abyss. You squirted all over his cock, he pulled it out giving you a second to collect yourself. “That was absolutely adorable y/n” Your hands covered your face out of embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t m-mean to..” he laughed at your cuteness once again. “It’s normal, mamas. You’re doing such a good job, I’m proud of you.” Moments later, he was back inside of you. “You wanna make me cum doll?” Keep tightening around my dick and I might just fill you up.” His words went straight down to your cunt. Your pussy clamped down on his dick. A pretty ring of cream was formed around his dick. You watched him lean his head back in pleasure, and groaned as he rammed inside of you. "I need your c-cum daddy!!" Your whimpers were just the cutest thing to him. “Nut inside this pussy p-pleaseee!!” he was going to release inside of you any second from now. "F-fuck, y/n. I'm gonna cum in this pretty pussy.." Seconds later he was nutting all inside you. His head was indeed leaned back, his warm seed coating your walls. He pulled it out and played with your pussy a bit, watching his cum drip out of you. He would pulling it out and pushing back into your swollen cunt. "Great job for passing my class, mama."

#jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami smut #jujutsukaisen #smut

[sublieu]

Hi not a request, but I really like your writing for LMK, what's your inspiration to write and tips? and can I ask for lmk x reader blog recommendations, just something to soothe my curiosity

Oh! Thank you! :3

Some people I recommend! [I don't really think they write smut though]

@cheesecakezyum @drsp00ky1 @chimerabliss @pamgkrthwrites @fandomwriterlover @ghosts-garden

I don't really write out of inspiration, I only write out of fun! It sucks being in consistent work but writing helps me vent out! [Specifically smut writing but ye]

And some personal tips from me when writing! [Tumblr, wattpad and general]

Wattpad &Tumblr

Create your own covers and please do not use an artist's work without giving them proper credit: I remembered one of my old accounts where the artist sent a death threat to me

If you're going to write a y/n. Do not add any specific features or traits. This involves blonde hair or blue eyes or a shy personality, otherwise it wouls still classify as an oc insert and from what I've noticed. Many people [not alot just a good chunk] don't like a self insert. Y/n is a blank character, sure they can have attributes to make them look like a specific gender but they would still be classified as gender neutral unless you give a note stating they're either female or male. No messy blonde buns or magenta eyes.

Please refrain from switching povs every few paragraphs, I best recommend trying to write in a third person perspective or change the pov every chapter. Especially when it involves smut

General writer tips!

Monologues and Convos

-If you're going to write someone stuttering, please refrain from using too much to bring across a point

[E.g: "I- i-i-i love you!"] Instead try using from one to two or, if you're not comfortable with that you can simply say they stutter after writing their monologue.

[E.g: "I love you!" He stuttered,]

Learn to take criticism!

It's important for writers, artists and people in general to take criticism as not all the time the fic or suggestion will reach people!

But if you still can't handle it, Then you may feel free to either remove or block their comment! Just because I said you need to take criticism, You need constructed criticism and not criticism that hides a bit of hate in it!

Writing errors

Try to proofread or ask someone to proofread your works! Incase if any errors or something weird is said in your fic. Personally I use grammarly [how ironic]

Relaxing/Learn to take breaks.

Learn to take breaks every once in a while! Don't push yourself over otherwise you'll suffer a writer's block.

Writer's block is literally the worst thing to happen to a fic writer [happened to me twice] so it's important to take a break! Sometimes it takes a week to a whole year so it's extremely important to relax.

Smut!

Dont be afraid to want to see a character squirm! Smut is basically either wanting to see the character or the [Name] squirm!

Be honest with your smut and write it! If you can't save it, try and write it down for later! [Except cp zoo and necro. Yall bitches are nasty]

If you can't/don't understand how to write smut then look up how to or ask someone! It's ok to ask people for help every once in a while.

I recommend to do not add author's notes during a smut, it ruins the vibe alot [this is from me personally]

Tag your fucking shit or write in the description what's to come. I swear I hate when I wanna read something and it involves a kink or fetish that I'm not comfortable with

And that's basically it!

#writing #writers on tumblr #writerscorner #writersociety #female writers #writing smut #writing fluff #writing angst #writers block #fanfic #writing tips #writing tricks #hoped this helped!

[seesboy]

some self-indulgent kasumi icons using this gay flag ! (op made their account private but i'll add the flag and its meaning under the cut; op, if you happen to see this and want me to credit you elsewhere or remove this, please lmk!!)

++ important note: this is not meant to be a headcanon!! i just happen to identify with kasumi and i'm a gay guy so i made these for fun :]

btw, these are free to use ^__^ !! credit isn't required but appreciated (and psst, if you want a small tutorial for making icons like these, that'll be under the cut too!)

the flag:

(note that i'm pretty sure the creator meant to only put attraction, not romantic attraction!)

and here's the icon tutorial!

1) using your image editor or art program of choice, make a circle on a square transparent canvas. (these icons were made on photopea, which is free and can be used in your browser! i also used a canvas size of 750x750, but use whatever works best for you. oh, and the circle can be as big as you want it to be, just make sure it still fits on the square haha) 2) duplicate the layer, change the color of the new circle (this is optional and the color doesn't matter, it's just so you can see it easier!), and then resize it to your liking. again, it doesn't matter how large you make it, just make sure it's smaller than the original circle ! and make sure it's centered. 3) you can ignore this step if you only want to add a solid color or a gradient for your border (in which case, simply recolor the first circle), but if you want an image as your border: add the image you want as the main border (whether it's a pride flag or otherwise), drag it under the second circle's layer if it's not already under it, and then set it as a clipping mask. resize and move the image if you need to, and then boom! you now have your border! 4) add the image you want to use for the icon and clip it to the second circle. move and resize the image until you're satisfied with how it looks, and now you have your icon! some other things you can add (completely optional): - layer effects (stroke for an outline, outer glow or inner glow for a soft glow on the outside or inside of the image, drop shadow for a shadow, etc.... these icons use the effects stroke and inner glow! - if the main image clashes with your border, grab a color from the border and draw over the main image using a new layer set as a clipping mask, then play around with layer effects and opacity until it looks good.

#gloomy.txt #i don't have an edit tag . so #resources - graphics #bandori #bang dream #bang dream girls band party #bang dream gbp #kasumi toyama #bandori icons #kasumi toyama icons #pride icons

[darkorderaf]

Can I request kiss prompt 16 with mjf set when the inner circle was in Vegas?

Oh, this is a very fun idea. This is a nice little cocktail of shitlord!Max and soft!Max. I took some creative liberties with their time in Vegas. Thank you so much for sending, I hope you like it!! <3

Pairing: MJF x OFC. Prompts: A kiss that isn’t meant to happen but it does anyway. Rating: T. Warnings/Content: Angst and fluff! Some drinking. Word Count: 2,633.

(I don’t own gif; credit to cowboyshit!)

“Un-fucking-believable.”

“Believe it.”

“I hate him.”

“I know.”

“Like, a lot. I deadass hate the dude.”

“I know, Sammy.”

She let out a long-suffering sigh and set her hands against the bartop. From the first proposal of the Inner Circle going to Vegas, Sammy complained. It hadn’t gotten any better now that they were actually in the city. The situation wasn’t great but it was what Jericho wanted and which of them was going to tell them no? At least Wardlow seemed decent enough. He didn’t talk much and hell, that was all she could ask for. She could use less talking lately.

“Sammy, he’s not going anywhere,” she said. Her hand curled tight around her glass. “We might as well just enjoy what we can, alright?”

Sammy frowned and folded his arms as he leaned against the table. Her words seemed to help for the time being. Satisfied that they had, she threw her drink back and rubbed at her temples. They had been away from the table too long and she could already feel her phone vibrating. She clapped Sammy reassuringly on the back and the two made their way back to the blackjack table.

“C’mon, Spanish God. It’s just one night. We’ll be fine.”

---

When the boys drank, they drank. Shot after shot after shot. She had to admit that she was impressed. MJF held his own with Jericho but he was feeling it and she could tell. They stayed longer at the place with the dancing girls that she forgot the name of but she didn’t mind that. It gave her some time to think to herself, appreciate the show from afar unbothered.

“You don’t belong here.”

Or not. She mentally prepared herself with a few deep breaths before she turned around. There he was, in his purple pastel suit glory. In MJF’s endeavor to earn the trust of the Inner Circle, he had been persistent with all of them. She tried not to notice that closely behind Jericho, she was the one he seemed to flock to most. The corner of the club she sat in was away from the red light that covered the rest. The fluorescents overhead made it easier to see the warm flush to his face that the booze brough on, the slight shadows under his eyes. She didn’t know where those came from. He leaned against the bar and took a long drink. She eyed him.

Was he getting enough sleep?

Better question, why was she worried about MJF?

Wait, what did he just say?

“Hi,” she said as she idly swirled the straw in her drink. She jutted her chin at the girls. “Care to explain what you mean by that? I think the club’s fine and the girls are putting on a hell of a show. I like it here.”

He shook his head, clearly frustrated.

“That’s,” he paused and sighed. “That’s not what I meant. You don’t belong here. With the Inner Circle. With them. With Jericho.”

Her eyes flashed and she sat up straight. Narrowed eyes met his and the muscle in his jaw worked. If he was frustrated, she felt it tenfold.

“Oh? And you do?”

“Please, just give me a second and listen to me.”

MJF wasn’t someone that struggled to communicate how he felt or what was on his mind. As far as she knew. Then again, how much did she really know him? She gestured for him to sit in the stool beside her and he took it. He undid the top button of his suit and ran a hand through his hair. He looked borderline unkempt. Vulnerable, even. Her spine softened and she slowly sipped at her drink.

“You’re--” He held onto his drink, sucked in his bottom lip, then ran his tongue along it. “You’re too good for them. I’m up here--obviously--you’re here, and then they’re down there. Do you see what I mean?”

He explained with one hand low and the other above his head. He placed himself higher than her by a slim margin. She didn’t know what to make of the fact that he leaned down to really exaggerate it. The backhanded compliment made heat creep up her neck, her face. She didn’t see herself better than the others of the Inner Circle but there were times where she wondered about going on her own. Even just for a little while. She kept to herself more lately, telling the guys it was fine if they didn’t accompany her to her matches. It would make it easier when she did decide to leave.

If she did.

“Wow,” she said, her brows lifted and her tongue pressed up against the sharp edges of her teeth. “You really know how to compliment a girl, Friedman. If you want a show, it’s over there. I’m not doing this with you.”

She turned away, effectively shutting off the conversation. Her spine straightened again and she caged her drink in with her forearms. MJF didn’t move from his spot beside her. Clearly, he had something on his mind. Max dropped his forehead into his hand then straightened himself back up.

“Max.”

“What?”

“Can you call me Max?”

That made her pause, her brows slightly furrowed. His voice was so soft she barely heard it. Jesus, she didn’t know what to make of this man. This infuriating man that insulted every person she knew and yet, could always be found in the audience during her matches. Who always checked on her in his own weird, emotionally bizarre way.

‘At least you didn’t embarrass yourself.’

‘Well, she looks worse but yeesh, that’s not saying much.’

And then the odd, ‘How are you?’ But that one seemed to make him more uncomfortable than any other compliment veiled with an insult. That one seemed genuine, a removal of some mask, and he never stayed long after she fumbled an answer.

She eyed him carefully on the stool beside her.

“Alright, Max,” she said and the sound of his name brought this strange, hopeful look to his face that caught her off guard. She was so used to it in a sneer, a Cheshire grin. “Come on, let’s get some air.”

She jerked her thumb towards the exit and threw back the rest of her strong drink. Although she hadn’t had as much as the boys, she felt warm and bubbly. Even with MJF, Max, at her side as they walked out into the night air, his hand a vague sensation at the small of her back as he let her go first. Her phone vibrated and she checked it.

Sammy G. - lmk if you need help hiding body xoxo

She rolled her eyes and slid her phone back into the pocket of her dress. Max kept a small distance from her as they walked and he did the same when she found somewhere to sit. She hadn’t banked on it being cold. Goosebumps slid up the exposed skin of her arms. Wordlessly, Max offered her his scarf.

“...Thanks,” she said. “What’s all this about, Ma--”

“You don’t like me.”

His statement cut her off and she cocked her head. She played with the ends of his scarf where it draped over her shoulders. It smelled like him and something sweet.

“It’s more complicated than that,” she offered. The conversation hadn’t initially been about them but with the way her brain lingered on it and how his statement didn’t sit well with her, she shifted it further that way. “You’re not the easiest person to be around. At all. Half the time I don’t know if you’re trying to be nice or if you’re just waiting for me to fall.”

“I’ve seen you fall. More than they have, in fact.”

She shot him a look. He wasn’t wrong. Jericho made a big show of how strong the bonds in the Inner Circle were and yet... Guilt knocked at her skull and she ignored it.

“Max,” she got his attention, his warm eyes on her and his knees angled towards her. Part of the reason she wanted to get away from the others was to get some air, that was true. The other part? To see who she was talking to. Max or MJF. “For once, can you just say what you mean and not be a complete dick about it?”

His jaw worked at that and his hands switched which one was on top quite a few times. Worry overtook her when he looked like he might be sick. Or like he was in pain.

“I like you. Alright? Even though I don’t want to and God knows I’ve tried not to, I do. I think about you literally all the time and it’s awful.”

Her shoulders dropped with disappointment and she shook her head with disbelief. He couldn’t just stop while he was ahead.

“Jesus,” she said, her voice a low and bitter sound. She slipped his scarf off and handed it back to him. “That must be so fucking terrible for you. My condolences, MJF.”

He was strangely silent as they walked back but that changed as soon as they were back in the company of the boys. Loudmouth, smug MJF was back and she receded back to the edges. Sammy approached her and demanded to know what happened, Ortiz as well. She kept it simple. They talked, that was all. The two men seemed to accept that that was all she would give them for the time being.

She had too much to think about and not enough drink in her glass.

---

The next pub they went to felt more up her alley and she sat at the end of the bar, away from the pissing contest between the others. Her sour mood had lifted some, thanks to Jameson and the friendly bartender. She could feel Max’s eyes on her but she paid no attention. She wanted to drink, she wanted to take a long bath, and then she wanted to go to bed. Something simple and not at all complicated like what her heart was feeling.

“Seriously, what did he say to you?”

“That’s between us, Ortiz,” she said for the third time to the man beside her. “It’s really not something I want to talk about.”

“Man, you’re holding out on us,” Sammy cut in from her other side. “Did he say something embarrassing? Please tell me it was embarrassing. It was totally embarrassing, right? Give us the dirt, sister.”

In some ways, she supposed it was embarrassing. Her jaw clenched.

“Is the hotel far from here?”

Ortiz blinked at her.

“No, not really, why?”

“I think I’m done for the night,” she said as she slapped a twenty on the bar and pushed back from it. “I’m getting tired.”

The two men seemed shocked and appalled by such a statement.

“Woah, you serious?”

“Mhm,” she vocalized. “You boys have fun, okay?”

“One of us will go with y--”

“I’ll go with her,” Max suddenly said, his hands in his pockets as he sauntered up to the trio. “You two stay here, huh? Keep an eye on the old man over there.”

Ortiz looked at Sammy, who looked at her, who looked at Max. He was too busy staring the other two down to notice how hard she looked at him.

“Fine,” she said carefully. “It won’t take long.”

She rushed out the door and Max was quick to follow her. That hardened expression of his faded and there was Max again, soft and vulnerable and infuriating. Frustrated tears pricked her eyes and she hated it.

“Slow down,” he called to her. “I didn’t say any of that right, alright? That was a shitshow in word form and I can do better than that because, I mean, I’m me. If I fuck it up again, just slap me and we’ll be done with the whole thing.”

He caught up to her in long strides and gently encircled her wrist with one of his hands. She stopped with a harsh breath in and turned back to look at him, her fists clenched at her sides. He let go of her wrist and guided her to the side, away into one of the alleys of Las Vegas. Maybe Max was serious if he was so willing to stand next to garbage.

“I like you,” he tried again as he stood in front of her. “I think about you a lot and when I think about you, I go looking for you. I don’t even know what I’m going to say half the time when I do, alright? I just go and hope for the best. I don’t do that. Any of that. I don’t like people and I don’t hope for the best for...for anything. For anyone. But then there’s you and I do and it’s weird but I don’t hate it and I don’t hate you. That’s the thing! I. Don’t. Hate. You.”

His hands hovered by her shoulders, his eyes imploring her to listen to what he was saying. What was that one line? The one about how wonderful, how strange it was to be liked by something that hates all else? She couldn’t wrap her head around it but she knew she wasn’t angry anymore. Bewildered and breathless and taken aback and unquestionably warm. That’s what she was. Her silence compelled him to step away and she reached out for him. Giggling grew louder on the sidewalk outside the alleyway. They stared at each other, both waiting for something to happen.

“Max, I don’t know…”

She trailed and it didn’t matter that she didn’t know what to say. Anything she could have said was silenced by Max’s lips on hers, his hands on the wall to brace himself. She leaned up into him, her eyes on his and both just as confused. A giggling couple disappeared down the alley and they must have knocked against Max. His hands dropped from the wall to her shoulders and when he went to pull away, she slipped her arms around him and pulled him in. Their stagnant lips began to move and she could taste what it was that smelled so sweet. He could taste the burn of Jameson on her tongue. Their eyes fell shut and they dove into each other.

The tentative way he kissed her melted like sugar to absinthe. His tongue met hers, her teeth nipped at his lips. Not enough to hurt but enough to get his attention. His hands slid from her shoulders to her waist then finally they came to a stop at her hips. He kissed her hard and she met him on even ground, her fingers curled in tight against his broad back. A sound of disgust from him broke them apart and that scowl of his was back on his face. He breathed hard against the skin of her neck.

“Absolutely not,” he said with a borderline growl as he lifted his head and stared down the alley. “We are not making out in a filthy, scum-filled alleyway. I get that this is Vegas and it’s the bottom of the barrel but there is still a thing called standards.”

His hand slid into hers to lead her away and after a second, she laced her fingers with his. She didn’t know what they were or where the hell they would be when the weekend was over and they left this moment. They could figure it out. He looked at her from the corner of his eye and smiled at her. Not a shit-eating one, not a standing-over-your-fallen-enemy one. It was just a simple one, meant for her, and it made her hope that it wasn’t true what they said about Las Vegas. Just this once.

#mjf fanfiction #mjf imagine #mjf fic #aew imagine #aew fic #aew fanfiction #wrestling fic #wrestling imagine #maxwell jacob friedman imagine

[quietmyfearswith]

innocent little ; preferences

warnings — kidnapping, spanking, curse words, mentions of punishments, obsession, implied stalking, gaslighting, knives

characters — dark!andy barber, dark!steve rogers, dark!ransom drysdale, dark!bucky barnes, dark!lance tucker,  dark!clark kent, dark!syverson, dark!august walker

a/n — THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH DARK THEMES,, dni if youre not 18+,, lmk what you think! i have an andy barber oneshot in the works so yeah..

their love language | with their little | when you’re insecure | slipping into little space | fussy | happy hoelidays | cartoons | obssessed | little rules

masterlist

“Petal, can you come over here? I have something to ask you,” Andy called for her into his home office; Y/N had an idea what she might be asked about, making her even more nervous than she already was. Fiddling with her fingers, she approached him with her head lowered, “Yes dada?” Refusing to meet eye contact, nervously playing with her fingers, and the soft tone she had when she spoke gave the lawyer affirmed his suspicions, but he still wanted to hear it from her. “Did you use dada’s credit card to buy big girl things?” Swaying side to side as she pouted her lips while looking at him with hopeful eyes as she tired to weasel out of getting in trouble, “I did, dada. Only because they were so pretty and I need them.”

“Need them? Petal, you’re dada’s little girl; you don’t need any of these things!” He grabbed her arms, stopping her from swaying, to look at her seriously. Removing his hands from her grip, she stomped her feet as she furrowed her eyebrows and pouted angrily, “But I want ‘em, dada! I wanna be a big girl sometimes too!” Having enough of her rebellious attitude, Andy hoisted her over until she was sprawled against his lap, her stomach flush against his thighs, “I’ve had enough of your bratty attitude,” His rough palm made contact with her clothed bottom, but she still could feel the pain as he swat her bum, causing her to shriek and move against him, “You should be fucking thanking me for taking care of you! I provide you with everything you could ever need and this is the thank you I get?” The opposite cheek felt the wrath of his palm as he hit her flesh. Clawing at his lower leg, cries of mumbled apologies left her mouth as tears were freely flowing from her eyes as she was being punished, “I’m sorry, dada! I promise to be your good little girl.” Pleased with what she said, Andy still didn’t fully believe her and decided to swiftly slap both her bum cheeks as he growled out, “You better live up to your promise, petal. Or else your punishment will be worse than this.”

"Mr. Bunny Hops, do you think daddy will like this drawing I made?” Y/N asked the stuffie that was tucked between her arm and breast as she walked the halls of their home; she had been spending time in her playroom while August took care of work in his home office. Deep in her little space, the drawn on paper that she held in her one hand blew along with wind — sliding under the door of the room he forbade her from entering. With a pout, she stomped on the ground slightly as she looked at her stuffie, “Oh no Mr. Hops! My drawing’s in there, but daddy said ‘m not allowed to go there,” Staring at the white plush that she held in her hands, she decided that maybe this was worth breaking a rule for and that August would understand. With a huff, her hand twisted the knob and entered with her eyes glued to the floor as her eyebrows furrowed as she searched for her masterpiece. “There it is!” She giggled excitedly when she found it, kneeling down to pick up the paper. A gasp left her lips once she noticed the walls that were covered in pictures of her — screenshots from surveillance footages, images from her social media accounts, even her photos from legal documents were plastered on the wall!

“Didn’t I tell you not come in here, little one?” August asked as he leaned from the doorway; turning around to face him, the Hammer was surprised to see the blank expression that she had as she clutched onto her favorite stuffed animal and onto a piece of paper. Running over to him she pouted, “I’m sorry, daddy! The wind blew my drawing,” She gave him the paper where she drew her and August having a tea party to prove her point, “And went under the door and to this room! I know daddy said not to come here, but I had to get my pretty picture!” Kissing away her pout, she moved her out of the room and closed the door before carrying her bridal style, heading to her playroom. “Well that’s thoughtful of you to save that drawing; you’re so talented, little one!” His praise had her giggling as he touched her nose with his. Setting her down on her bean bag, August then became slightly serious as he held both her hands, “Now little one, I need you to forget whatever it was you saw in there okay?” Pursing her lips, Y/N couldn’t prevent her curious self as she asked, “Why do you have those many pictures of me in the walls, daddy?” Bobbing his adam’s apple up and down, the train CIA agent scrambled to think of a response to her question that wouldn't raise any red flags; before getting out an answer she then wondered, “Is it for when you go away for work? So you won’t miss me too much?” Deciding that her guess was much better than the truth, he then nodded his head as he smiled brightly before peppering her face with kisses, “That’s exactly what those are for, my little one! You really are my smart baby, hm?”

“Tătic, can you come over here please?” Hearing his little sweetheart politely call for him, he dropped the book he was reading and headed to the kitchen — where Bucky assumed she would be in anyway. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Seeing her destress-filled face made him anxious that something went awry. “I found this near the sink, tătic; what is this?” As she raised the knife that was usually kept in his hip holster every time they went out, Bucky’s breath hitched as he carefully grabbed the weapon out of her hands, “Sweetheart, where exactly did you find this? And what were you doing?” Curious eyes watched over him as he turned the faucet on and cleaned some of the red stains he forget to clean after what he did; though she couldn’t fully see  it since his back was turned to her, shielding her from seeing more, “Was gonna put my sippy on the sink, then I saw it and thought it was pretty because it was shiny. But then I saw something red.” 

Once he deemed that it was clean enough he turned to face her slightly, hiding the knife behind his back, “Do you wanna get a reward sweetie?” Excitedly, she nodded her head up and down with a grin on her face, “Okay, I’ll reward you if you go and wait for me on the couch like a good girl.” before even getting to say the last few words, she was running off to the couch and sat cross-legged, placing her hands on her knees as she waited for him. Bucky then took this chance to hide the knife on one of the cabinets she wasn’t permitted to open since it contained some of his other weapons for self-defense; then, he got her some snacks on a bowl —which contained some fruits, chocolate, and cookies. “Here you go, my good little sweetie,” She squealed excitedly upon seeing all her favorite treats being handed to her. Grabbing for a strawberry she held it in front of Bucky as she asked, “Is this the red thingy in the knife, tătic? You were preparing strawbebbies?” Deciding that she didn’t need to know about how he had to intimidate the grocery staff who talked down on you, he went along with her suspicion, “Such a smart, sweetheart I have!” He cooed as he kissed her nose as she was munching on the fruit.

“Can I bake for the bake sale, sir?” Y/N wondered as she looked up to him in between bites of her breakfast. Steve briefly looked at her before continuing to pour orange juice on his glass, “Why do you want to bake, doll? Wouldn’t that tire you out too much?” After munching down on some eggs, she shook her head, “It won’t! The bake sale will help the poor,” Her nervous rambling made him feel like there was more to it than she let on. “Is that all, baby doll?” The stern expression he had matched with an authoritarian tone made her confess her ulterior motive, “Want to earn money to buy a blankie.” Lowering the glass after gulping down he softened his expression as he rubbed her hand gently, “Doll, if you wanted something you should have just said so. That’s no reason to tire your little body out.”

“But sir I wanna work and buy my blankie!” This was something she thought of even when she wasn’t in her little space; ever since Steve retired from the Avengers he devoted all his time to her. It got a bit suffocating to the point that he made her quit her job and spend all of her days being his little girl — it was a dream come true at first but now she was itching for freedom. His closed fist banged against the table as he yelled out, “No! You will not do so!” Lips quivering in fear as he raised her voice, her teary eyes met his cold ones as he made it clear, “You do not have to lift a pretty finger, doll. Tell me what you want and you will get it,” Standing up from where he was sitting, he knelt down in front of her as his thumbs brushed away the few droplets of tears that escaped her eyes, “I’m sorry for raising my voice, doll. But I just don’t want you stressing about anything okay? All you need to do is sit pretty while you be my good little doll.”

“Captain, look! It’s me!” Y/N stumbled upon a piece of paper that was perfectly folded to show her face while she was cleaning up her toys in the living room. Sy dropped what he was doing from the kitchen when he saw her excited over what she found. “What do you got there, baby girl?” Sitting beside her, she then placed the paper in his lap to show what it was she found tucked under the coffee table. “Why is my picture on paper, captain?”  Shelooked at him with wonder; meanwhile the Texan man struggled to come up with an explanation. It was a missing poster that was handed to him when he went out for groceries. Some of her close friends and families still hadn’t given up on looking for her despite disappearing for over 2 years now. It was something he didn’t want  to do, but he was insecure and doubting that she would go out with him due to his lack of abilities in talking to women — so he resorted to snatching her away as they went someplace else.

“It’s because you’re very pretty, baby!” Sy said as he bopped her nose and tried to cover the agitation he felt, “They just wanna show off the prettiest faces in the world.” The army veteran was grateful that she bought his lie as she laughed and planted herself on his lap, arms encircling around his neck as she kissed his lips briefly, “That can’t be true, cap’n!” Furrowing his eyebrows at her protest he wondered, “Why can’t it be true, little baby?” Scoffing at him she explained, “Because then it would have to be a picture of the both of us! You are very handsome you know.”A warm feeling came over him as he grinned at her while he rested his large hands on her thighs, “Yeah? Am I your handsome daddy whom you’ll love forever?” Without knowing the impact and meaning it had on Sy, she confirmed, “Yes, Captain. Gonna love you forever no matter what because you’re the best!”

“There, there, angel. Deep breaths for me now,” Lance rubbed her back as she continued to sob into his chest, her hands clawing at his back. Y/N came home devastated when she revealed to him that she had been fired from her job — what she didn’t know however is that this was Lance’s doing. The gymnast loathed how she had to leave him five days a week in order to be a “big girl” everytime she went to go to work. So Lance intimidated and threatened to expose the manager of their infidelity to their spouse and report to the authorities about their drug abuse if they didn’t fire her; the feeble man quivering in fear as they assured the gymnast who had powerful connections that Y/N would be fired at the end of her shift for that day. “I know it sucks to be fired from your job, but hey now you don’t ever have to be a big girl again!” Despite the tempting idea of being little, she still knew deep in her that she has to work, “But papa I need to work!”

Feeling his muscles tense at her statement, Lance tried to compose himself as he reassured her as he placed loving kisses all over her face, “Not anymore, angel. From now on you let papa take care of all the grown up stuff okay?” Her glossy eyes looked at his, seeing the sincerity and love he had made her heart flutter in appreciation, “Are you sure, Papa? How can I help you?” Chuckling, he kissed her pout away as he reassured her, “Yes my precious angel, I’m sure I can handle everything. And how can you help?” He pouted his own lips, as if he were thinking hard, which made Y/N giggle as she messily wiped off the remaining tears she had with her palms. “Do you promise to be my good baby girl and obey me at all times?” The gold medalist had to place both his hands under her chin to prevent her from having whiplash by the way she nodded her head up and down, “I can do that, papa! Can be your goodest girl who will love and listen to you!” Pleased with her compliance, he gave her pecks on her forehead, nose, and lips before smiling at her, “I knew you would be, angel.”

“Are you ready for dinner later, Ransom?” Y/N asked him while she laid down on the bed the red dress she was going to wear for supper with his family. Lowering the manuscript that he was reviewing, he stood from the desk and wrapped his arms around her frame from behind as he took a peak of her outfit, “Is this what you’re wearing for later, princess?” It was on purpose that he dropped that nickname, hoping to coax her into her small space. “It’s the red dress you bought for me, Ran,” Turning her head to place a kiss on his clean shaven cheek, “Thank you for buying it for me by the way.” Appreciating the kiss she gave him, it still did not make his confusion go away; he detached himself from her as he went into their walk in closet. Ruffling through the hangers he let out a small, “Ah!” Once he finds the pink dress he wanted her to wear. “Princess why don’t you wear this one instead?” Looking at the dress he held, she pouted slightly, “But that’s for when I’m in, you know,” She tilted her head knowingly, causing him to smirk a bit. “For when you’re in your little space, I know. That red dress is too grown up for you; and I want to see you wear this for tonight.”

“Bur Ransom!” She whined but stopped immediately when Ransom crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at her, “King,” She clarified, fearing about what will happen if she chose to not call him his title, “I think I shouldn’t be wearing that dress for dinner.” Sighing as he laid the pink dress on top of the outfit she chose, he then held both her hands in his as his thumbs rubbed the back of her palms. “Am I not the king? Don’t I know what’s best for you?” She opened her mouth to reply, but he was quick to stop her from talking as he placed a kiss on her lips, letting his tongue inside her mouth as he swallowed the moan she let out. Pulling away from their heated kiss, he rested his lips against hers, “Do you understand what I’m trying to say, my little princess?” Nodding her head, she pecked his lips as she apologized, “I’m sorry, my king. You always know what’s best for me.” 

“Clark, how come you told Perry I won’t be helping you anymore on the Hamilton cover?” Y/N asked her boyfriend after showering. His strong arms grabbed for her, settling her down on his lap as he circled his arms around her waist, “We’re at home now, honey. You don’t need to be a big girl anymore.” Even though her little side was itching to come through because of his coaxing, she still stood her ground as she asked again, “Later, bubba. First tell me why you had me removed from the team!” Controlling his breathing as his beloved tested his patience, he managed to calmly let out, “I don’t want you getting yourself involved in some dangerous things, honey. End of discussion.”

“But I worked hard on that case and you know it!” She stomped her feet on the ground and crossed her arms, trying to replicate his rigid expression that she gave him when she was being a naughty baby; but to Clark she just looked like a growly kitty, that didn’t let her attitude slide though. Fingers gripped her elbow hard, causing her to wince out in pain while her fingers tried to push his hand away to no avail, as his eyes darkened with every word he spoke, “I know you worked hard; but I don’t want my girl to get in trouble. Can you imagine if the case went wrong? What will happen to you then?” The rhetorical question had her halting her efforts in loosening his grip on her as she thought for a bit, “Did you actually think I wanted you to risk your safety for the sake of a cover story? That I’d rather you be a big girl than my little honey?” Seeing how she stopped struggling, dropping her hands to her lap as she calmed down her breathing, he set free of her skin. “”M sorry I was being a naughty girl about it, bubba,” Her apology was muttered in a soft, small voice which gave Clark the clue that not only did she agree with his decision, but she now fully submerged into her little space — and that delighted him immensely. Kissing her forehead, his thumbs lifted the end of her lips to get her to smile as he reminded her, “I understand why you were upset, honey. I just wanted you to be safe and not have to worry about silly big girl things!”

#henry cavill x reader #sebastian stan x reader #chris evans x reader #andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber x reader #august walker x reader #dark!august walker x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #captain syverson x reader #syverson x reader #dark!captain syverson x reader #dark!syverson x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #dark!ransom drysdale x reader #dark!ransom thrombey x reader #clark kent x reader #dark!clark kent x reader #andy barber x fem!reader #august walker x female!reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #syverson x fem!reader #captain syverson x fem!reader #ransom thrombey x fem!reader #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #clark kent x fem!reader

[mrsmaybank]

My Little Sun - Spencer Reid x Reader

“Can you imagine it?” I started, “A little girl who looks just like you? I’d be in so much trouble.”                  

She giggled, “Absolutely whipped.”                       

PART ONE HERE

A/N: It came out fast!!! I had lowk already started it, so that’s why this update came so quickly. Please don’t expect them all to come this fast LMAO. I usually write slow as fuck. Anyway, I really hope you guys like this part so I can maybe just maybe turn this into a mini series. Please lmk if you guys like :) 

CONTENT WARNINGS: KIDNAPPING, PREGNANCY, LANGUAGE, MENTIONS OF SEX (lmk if i missed any please) 

I paced the bullpen as the team spoke to Penelope. The shock of her pregnancy was starting to wear off, and now I could think more clearly. How could she? What was she thinking? 

Recently, I’d found myself thinking about it more, a baby her and a mini-me. A family of my own, with the love of my life. It was exciting and like a lovesick fool it made my stomach fuzzy. But she wasn’t ready and I couldn’t do that to her. So how could she do it to herself? She hadn’t finished school, hadn’t started her career. She could barely take care of herself! I wasn’t mad, absolutely not. Just disappointed at her self-sabotage and the fact she’d made the decision completely without me. I couldn’t think about it for long though, because I was swiftly reminded by my surroundings that right now, there was a chance I’d lose her, our child and any children we wanted to have in the future. That was the priority. 

“Garcia, check her credit card records, we need to see where she last was.” Hotch said. 

“Uhm, okay,” Penelope took a deep breath while clicking away, “Let’s see. Her last purchase was last night, 6:49 at a CVS Pharmacy, oh--” 

“What Garcia?” Hotch asked. 

“She was um, picking up her monthly case of birth control.” 

JJ broke the silence, “Spence…” she started towards me. 

I breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank god.” 

“Thank god?” Morgan questioned. 

“She’s 23.” I wiped my face, “Whole life ahead of her.” The team understood what I was trying to say. Rossi’s hand fell on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. 

“So why would she tell Brook she was?” Garcia asked. 

“I uh, I..I don’t know.” I spat out. I really had no idea.  

“Think Reid.” Rossi told me. “You guys ever talk about kids or pregnancy?”

“She might be trying to send us a message,” Emily added. 

I thought back to the last time we discussed starting a family. 

--FLASHBACK-- 

We were surrounded by timeless pieces of art and history, and yet the true masterpiece was still her. She was always beautiful to me, a perfect being, truly. But today, something about the way she looked today specifically, made her look like the kind of beauty you see in a painting. Had she been a painting, her creator must have been skilled. Each stroke of his brush creating every divine curve of her face and body to produce a work of magnificent art, one that I so proudly hung on the walls of my heart. 

I remember exactly what she wore, and how it felt to take it all off. The painter had an eye for color. Her denim skirt, the length or lack thereof making me embarrassingly wary, was blue like the Mediterranean Sea, complementing the pigment of the skin of her legs. A white button down made of silk, not worn properly, of course. Too many buttons were left open at the top, as to draw attention to the gold adorned on her chest, but in the spell of temptation she procured to cast upon me, my eyes wandered to admire territories of her body they shouldn’t have. Not in public, at least. The buttons at the bottom were left untouched as well, revealing the soft skin of her stomach. She looked like an angel, but of course, went out of her way to instead be my temptress.

My affinity for her beauty aside, the wide eyes in delight at the museum artifacts and careful attention to my commentary were what made our excursion wonderful. The feeling of her smaller hand in mine, and the giggles and the teasing “You’re way too nerdy to be so stupid hot Dr. Reid.” made it absolutely perfect. 

In exchange for her listening so attentively to my historical facts and stories, I took her for ice cream. She insisted we ate it on the greens of Lincoln Park. Who was I to deny her that? What came next--I expected. She’d devoured it. Made a mess of strawberry ice cream on her white shirt. 

“It was the wind!” She insisted as the first of many drips of ice cream fell down her chin. 

“No it was not!” I argued back while wiping it, “You just never learned how to eat ice cream properly.” I gently removed the cone from her hands and into mine, taking an overzealous bite. “This, lovey, is how you eat ice cream.” 

“Give it back, you...you dickass!” She snorted. We laughed like two lovesick teenagers. 

“Dickass?” I asked, eyes watery from laughter. 

“Yeah dickass, give me back my damn ice cream.” I took another bite, “Stop! You’re eating it all!” She pouted. Pouts were unfortunately my weakness and I handed it back to her. However, in her rush, the pink scoop had fallen directly on her blouse. 

“Way to prove my point,” I started to take off my cardigan, “You want dickass’s sweater?” 

She wanted to be mad but couldn’t contain the wince of a smile. “Please.” 

We carefully removed her shirt from under while simultaneously putting the cardigan in its place. 

“Spence don’t let me flash! There’s kids and judgmental old ladies here!” 

I laughed and shushed her, “I know, I know.” I moved all the fabrics quickly and it was done. Her sticky pink shirt was replaced with my soft sweater. “There.” 

“My hero,” She kissed me, “Truly.”

She leaned back on our picnic blanket on her shoulders as we observed our fellow park goers. “So many kids.”  

I nodded my head in agreement. “Yeah…” 

“We should bring our kids here one day.” she said, instantly breaking my haze from the crowd so I could only see her. 

I smiled again at the thought, “Yeah, and tell them how their mom is the world's clumsiest ice cream eater.”

She looked at me with disdain before shoving her shoulder into mine. “Shut up.” 

“Can you imagine it?” I started, “A little girl who looks just like you? I’d be in so much trouble.” 

She giggled, “Absolutely whipped.” 

I toppled her so we were laying down, facing each other. She kissed me hard, and my hands went to the sides of her face, only pulling back to say “I can’t wait for it, you know. My two little girls.” 

She smiled, “But I’ll always be your favorite right?” she asked sarcastically. 

I laughed, “Oh of course. Always.” 

“I’ll have a big ol’ belly, you know.” I nodded, “You’d still be perfect.” 

“We’d have to go to the mall, buy me a shitload of new clothes. Do ya know how dirty malls are Spence?” I winced at the thought of thousands of strangers bacteria on every surface and she laughed, “Got ya.” I shook my head, “Nope! I uh, I’ll just bring hand sanitizers and uh, to the Maternity section we’ll go.” 

“Non-stop Panda express eating.” I nodded again, “I’ll be non-stop Panda Express buying, then.” She smiled so hard her nose scrunched. 

“I love you Spencer.” 

“I love you too. I am so in love with you.” 

--FLASHBACK ENDS--

“Yeah but it was trivial.” I said. 

“Maybe not,” Hotch argued, “Was anything mentioned specifically?” 

“A name she liked?” Prentiss added, “Maybe a craving she thought she might have? Anything at all?” 

I nodded, “Not a food, but a fast food place. Panda Express.” I doubted that would be helpful. 

“It’s a stretch but, Garcia, check for any dilapidated buildings within 10 miles of a Panda Express.” 

“Yes sir,” She typed away and then said, “No, guys. I’m sorry. All of our Panda Express’s are in pristine malls or new developments.” 

“Mall!” I shouted, “She said we’d have to go to the mall! She knows I hate the mall.” 

Morgan pointed at us, “The tiles in that room look like they could be from some 80’s Bloomingdales.” 

“Garcia-” I said. 

“Already on it.” 

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

The pregnancy ruse was either going to get me killed, or save my life. It was a moment of panic and I just wanted to throw her off. I know it did, but in what direction? 

She was still crying, her demeanor with me was still laced with bitter animosity, but she was calmer now. 

“How long have you known?” Brook asked, the contents of her flask now empty and her words slurred. 

“I found out yesterday.” I lied through my teeth. 

She shrugged her shoulders, “Had you guys talked about it?” 

“Vaguely.” I admitted. 

“What’d Spencer want? Boy or girl?” I debated on whether or not to say, and she caught on. “Don’t fucking lie.” She stated harshly. 

“Girl.” I breathed out. “He wants a girl.” 

“What do you want?” she asked. 

“I don’t care.” I said. That was true. 

“How come?” 

“I just want to start a family with him. Don’t really care about the gender…” That was true as well. 

“Oh.” she nodded her head, “Why’d he want a girl?” It was strange, her  genuine curiosity. It freaked me out, but my alternative was being stabbed. I chose to just answer her questions, regardless of how much I really did not want to.  

“He liked the idea of a little girl who looked like me.” 

She winced, eyes tearing up further. “Right.” I was beginning to realize her feelings were very real. 

“You really like him, don’t you?” I asked. I knew I shouldn’t have but I couldn’t help it. My head was still looking for an answer as to how she could be driven to do something like this. 

She clasped her hands together, her anger returning.  “Don’t fucking start. You know nothing of what I feel for Spencer.” She came up closer and tugged at my hair, “Fucking nothing.” 

“Okay,” I grimaced at the pain from the force at which she pulled my hair, “I-I’m sorry.” 

She let go, “You should be. You really, really fucking should be.” She sat back down, pensive for a while. I wish I knew what she was thinking about. 

My heart had not stopped it’s fast pace ridden with anxiety since I gained full awareness of my situation, but now, it felt like it was going to burst through my chest. Was she planning on just killing me now? 

My anticipation ceased when she got up and brought back the camera with her again. “Hello BAU. There has been a change in plans. Your beloved,” The words reeked of sarcasm, “Y/N here, will be returned eventually. . She’s gonna be fine. However, it is now in everybody best interest if this video feed was cut out. Sorry.” She said before mouthing, “No I’m not.” She shut the camera off. 

She turned to me, “I hate you. Fucking despise you.” Figures. 

“But I would never hurt Spencer. Or his child. Even if it is being carried by a whore like you.” 

She began to pace once more, “You’re obviously a mistake on his part. You clearly tricked him with sex and...no just sex I think. You're not really smart enough to be capable of anything else. Regardless, he’s probably already thinking about abortions or adoption. There’s no way in hell a man like him could ever want to start a family with a girl like you.” She shook her head, “Absolutely not.” 

I could only nod my head at her delusions. This woman was so far up her ass. 

She pinched my cheeks together with her cold hands, “You tried to trap him. How’d that go for you?” 

I was silent.

“I asked you a fucking question!” She held my face impossibly tighter. 

“Poorly.” I got out, “Poorly.” 

“In 9 months, I’ll help you deliver your baby. And then, you can go.” Brook backed away and let go of her tight grip on my face. “I’m keeping the kid. Raising it.” She smiled, “I’ll be the mother Spencer’s child will deserve. And then-” A giggle creepily reminiscent of a schoolgirl’s left her throat, “He’ll love me!” 

Brooks intention had twisted from wanting to murder and torture me as revenge for “taking” Spencer, to a now twisted maternal desire for his (hypothetical) child. But if Spencer and his team couldn’t find me before the time I was supposed to be showing, I was fucked. Utterly fucked. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Taglist: @britishspidey

(Let me know to be added)

#spencer reid fanfiction #Spencerreid #drspencerreid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencerreid x reader smut #spencer reid x reader sm #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #Criminal Minds Reid #reid criminal minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminalminds #Criminal Minds #reid x you #reader x spencer reid

[squishmallow36]

Keeper of the Lost Prepositions - Seventeen

Word count: 1.9k

Tw: none

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @ichor-on-my-hands @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @snowflakewolves @poppinspop @crystallinewalker @uni-seahorse-572 @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @books-over-boys @florida-llama-46 @when-wax-wings-melt @k00laidcrush @bowlcut-boyfriends @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizznee @jamesdeangf

On Ao3 or below the cut!

    About halfway through watching Up, I get hungry, and so I venture to the kitchen for sustenance.

    I grab two more slices of Mallowmelt, mildly tempted to get something that isn’t entirely sugar, and then I think about how much I want to eat the said Mallowmelt.

    When I get back to my room, I give Wonderboy the second piece of Mallowmelt because I’m feeling nice, and, in the movie, I missed the introduction of a talking dog.

    Just before the end of the movie, I think my infrared glasses on which I have been working are ready to be tested.

    Logically, I put them on, which has an implied prepositional phrase before you start arguing with me. 

    I look around, and it is, for the sake of time, weird.

    You know the thing that humans call the universe’s baby picture? I’m not one hundred percent sure of its name, but I think it’s the cosmic microwave background, or CMB. 

        Back to the glasses, they have shades of basically every visible colour, excluding violet, and, no, you can’t call it purple. They’re different. Violet is a colour on the visible electromagnetic spectrum, and purple is a mix of red and blue. 

    Okay, I think that getting distracted with this many different sciency things is a sign that I’ve spent way too much time working on techy things today.

    Anyway, the glasses look like they work. I can definitely tell that there’s a Fitz-shaped blob sitting on my bed next to me, watching a movie I should be also watching.

    Oh, that’s cool. The laptop lets off infrared heat too so I think I can watch the movie in super-saturated glowing colours.

    I take them off, assuming that if I spend too much time looking through them, they’ll give me a headache, because those are some vibrant colours.

    After the movie, I say, “I’m just going to have to test that these work on Biana, and then, well, we could have an anti-vanisher device!”

    Fitz claps at that, and asks, “Can I test them? Please?”

    I concede, “Sure. Two conditions though.” I wait for him to begrudgingly agree before continuing, “One. You will treat them with the utmost care. They will not be broken when you bring them back to me. Two. You will test them on Biana and/or your Mom, and only them, until tomorrow morning, when Biana inevitably makes you come back here. Don’t go hunting down your brother. I will find you.”

    “Okay, Mr. Scary Technopath” 

    “I mean it, Keefe.”

    “If I’m Keefe, then are you Foster?”

    “Perhaps.”

    “Did you just use ‘perhaps’ unironically in a sentence?”

    “I’m tempted to say it again, but that would ruin the point. But, yes.”

    “What are we watching next?” Fitz asks as the credits rolled on Up.

    We took too long to make a decision, so Netflix decided for us, playing another Disney movie, this time Beauty and the Beast. 

    I don’t really understand how it chose that next, but human algorithms are weird sometimes.

    I figure ‘Why not?’ and let it keep playing, actually paying attention for the first time.

    Okay, fine, you got me. I snuck a couple glances at Fitz.

    And by a couple glances, I mean watching him half the time.

    But I pay enough attention to understand the plot, so doesn’t that have to count for something?

    I think so. 

    Change my mind.

    And are you really going to blame me for watching Captain Perfectpants over there? 

     His hair’s so adorably messy today and everything.

     I mentally sigh, not wanting to alert Fitzy to anything, but needing a good sigh.

     After Beauty and the Beast ended, I, subconsciously, worried about how much time was being wasted, not working on anything of importance, but I’ve already done enough today. 

    The next movie is another Pixar one, called Wall-E, which I’m kind of disappointed I didn’t watch first.

    It’s all about two cute little robots. 

    And also fat people in space that have to float around in chairs because of the effects of artificial gravity after they destroyed the Earth with all of their trash.

    After all the Neverseen problems are solved, I am one hundred percent making a chair like the ones in the movie.

    ‘Cause I can.

    Does anyone ever need more of a reason than that?

    Answer: yes. Case in point: ability restrictor.

    Do I care? In this case, no. Not even a little.  

    While I’m studying Fitz again during this movie, I notice that he really wanted to yell at the characters, which is pretty dang cute.

    But that had nothing on how adorable he is when he laughs at the idea of a pizza tree at the very end. 

    Somehow he knows what pizza is. I mean, I know he visited human cities for like nine years when he was looking for Sophie, and a few times after that, but, like, I didn't know he actually paid enough attention to know what pizza is.

    Exile, I barely know what pizza is. Food isn’t exactly the first human thing that I’ve decided to study. 

    In an instance of absolutely perfect timing that will never happen again even if we tried, Mom calls me to dinner as soon as the credits start rolling on Wall-E. 

    I pause the movie, shut the laptop, and bolt for the dining room.

    Fitz walks into view after I have already settled into my seat, saying, “I didn’t know you were that hungry. I would have made more Mallowmelt if I’d known.”

    I laugh. “I’m not that hungry, and please don’t make any more Mallowmelt. Either you get here before the triplets, or you don’t bother going at all. There’s no telling what they could’ve snuck into your food.”

    “Well, he’s not wrong,” Dad states, appearing behind Fitz, who is standing in the doorway.

    “I should probably get going. Biana hasn’t hailed me that dinner is ready yet, but I’m sure it’ll be soon,” Fitz says, stepping out of the doorway to let Dad into the room. 

    “I didn’t realise you were here, Fitz, but there’s no need to leave. We’re more than willing to have you for dinner,” Mom says, bringing out glasses of Lushberry juice.

    It goes with everything if you try hard enough.

    “I wouldn’t want to impose,” Fitz replies, his accent somehow crisper when he’s being formal. 

    And there goes the blush. 

    “I insist,” Mom says. 

    Fitz is trying, and struggling, to find a reason to go home as the triplets barrel into him from behind. 

    He nearly falls on his face, but it makes him realise it’s not worth the fight and concedes to eating dinner with us. 

    When it’s put like that, it sounds like we eat poison on a daily basis.

    “I should hail Biana, to tell her that I’m having dinner here.” He starts walking outside, either to leap away or hail her without bothering us. 

    I don’t trust him not to run, so I hold out my hand, saying, “I can send her a message through that Imparter, no hail needed.”

    When he still didn’t give it, I add, “Trust the Technopath.”

    All Imparters have a built-in messaging system, even though everyone only uses the hailing function, which I think is sad. 

    Technopath problems. 

    I quickly send a message to Biana saying I’m going to stay at Rimeshire for dinner. Dex’s family convinced me to stay (the triplets are scary). Just thought I should let you know -Fitz. (BTW this is Dex, Fitz can’t Technopath even if the fate of the world depends on it)

    “Check this to see if you approve the message and then hit send,” I say, giving the Imparter back to Fitz.  

    “What does the ‘bee tee double-you’ mean?” he asks, with a small, confused crease between his eyebrows.

    “By the way,” I explain, “It’s a human texting abbreviation.”

    He sends the message, probably figuring Biana would find a way to know that already, somehow, and sits down in a chair that Mom had pulled from who knows where.

    Dinner didn’t devolve into a food fight as it so often does, especially since Bex and Lex manifested. 

    Rex--.

    After dinner, Fitz wants to go back home again, but it isn’t even seven yet, and the sun hasn’t set. 

    We’re so far north that the sun doesn’t even set sometimes in the middle of summer. And you wonder why my sleep schedule is so messed up.

    I manage to convince him to stay for one more human movie, which ends up being Cars, and apparently it’s set in a world where humans don’t have to drive around their giant death wagons.

    I Google it to find out more about it because I can, and it was the last Pixar film made before it was bought by Disney, so you can argue that it isn’t technically a Disney movie.

    And it’s the only Pixar movie that we’ve watched—today and whenever we watched Brave—that was made before Disney purchased Pixar. 

    Beauty and the Beast doesn’t count because it was made by Disney itself.

    I managed to watch Cars even more than Wall-E, only stealing a few glances at Wonderboy.

    Mostly when he shifts and somehow manages to keep getting closer. And cue my heart skipping a beat because that is a lot of perfection that keeps inching towards me. 

    By the end of the movie, I really want to yell at the screen to encourage the protagonist—I think his name was Lightning McQueen or something—but he didn’t even win the race at the end.

    He helped the other, older car to finish the race because he met the old guy in the town in which he got lost—I wanna say its name was Radiator Springs—that is somehow so much more satisfying to the story.

    I look at Fitz, who has completely buried himself in my pile of pillows, so much so that I’m not sure he can even see the screen.

    He lets out a soft, snuffly snore that would have been adorable if it didn’t immediately make me panic because there’s a really freaking cute guy that fell asleep in my bed.

    How does this go well?

    I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Relax. 

    Lovise is the only one who knows about this stupid crush. Honestly, at this point Grizel suspects, if she hasn’t gathered enough evidence to assume it’s true even without confirmation. 

    I stand up to get Mr. Snuggles from where Fitz left him this morning, and I give him to the Lord of the Snuggles.

    I find a couple blankets shoved into my closet, and use one to cover up Fitz instead of trying to wrestle one out from under him.

    I send Biana an Imparter message saying that Wonderboy fell asleep at Rimeshire, and I don’t think it’d be a good idea to wake him up.

    I grab a computer, and sit on a bean bag that I have in one of the corners of my room. Well, I have to push some parts off of it first, but that doesn’t matter. 

    It’s barely nine right now, so I figure I can play a little Portal before I go to bed. Which will be my bean bag. 

    I've always wanted to sleep here, so at least now I have a good reason to do exactly that.

    Silver linings. 

[zackieboyo]

About me

DNI if: under 13, pr0sh!p, bigot

DON'T REPOST MY ART, ASK FOR USE AS PFP, if you like my art you should respect it. I WILL tell you to remove it if you repost or tell you to add credit if you use as pfp

asks are OPEN! ask me anything you'd like within reason(preferably abt Eddsworld, I'm always open to info dumping my ideas and headcanons, but any non-personal questions about me are fine too)

also please refrain from spam likes, it's kinda annoying. I won't block I'm just not a fan of overrun notifs yk?

Name: Zackie ... Boyo

Gender: male(he/him, nothing else)

Age: 17

more in depth DNI, BYI, and other info in carrd(linked below)

Tags:

#fansworld, #ewe, #ew ecstasy- for my eddsworld fan series. Updates, concept art, characters, wip, anything related to the project.

#weird fact- something weird about the eddsworld canon I figured out through piecing together stuff that no normal human being would think about in their life

#not my normal content- anything not eddsworld related(don't worry, I won't use this much)

#long post- posts that are kinda long, which includes posts that have reached the max amount of images even if they aren't that long

#reblog- self-explanatory, just a way to separate the stuff I make from what I reblog

#self reblog- used for reblogging stuff I made, usually from a different account

carrd

Other/misc: I'm autistic and have a special interest in Eddsworld, this blog is specifically for that special interest. I might be a bit too passionate at times but I try not to insult other people in any way for harmless acts. if you think I'm acting rudely in any way please lmk as it's never my intention and I want to know how to improve and better myself. I ask questions or make points not to argue but to learn how my perspective differs from another's. also, use tone tags with me but don't overuse them. you don't need to add one after every single sentence, that's not necessary esp when it can't be interpreted any other way, it just feels like handholding and it's upsetting and annoying rather than helpful.

#about me #pinned post #text post

[sooibian]

Flambé - I

poster and edits/collage credits to @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt​ ! 

chapter two | moodboard by the lovely @pororodks​

🍜 pairing: kyungsoo x fem!reader ft. baekhyun, mark lee

🍜 description: pull up a chair. take a taste. come join us. life is so endlessly delicious. - ruth reichl

🍜 themes: fluff, crack (ish), slight angst, a lil bit of spice (in the future), rivals to lovers au

🍜 word count: ~ 9.7k

🍜 a/n: writing this makes me feel lonely and hungry and that, my friends, is a deadly concoction of emotions so while i wallow in my misery, i dearly hope you’ll enjoy this creation. i'd love to hear from you <3<br>

🍜 reference notes: yt channels: maangchi, one meal a day, bore.d; netflix shows: midnight diner, street food: asia, chef’s table

🍜 tag list: @changshapatrol​ @j-pping​ @kyungseokie​ @exosmuttytalk​ @his-mochi-cheeks​  @littleflowercrown13​ pls lmk if you’d like to be added/removed from the tag list!

Water bobs in frenetic bubbles in a massive ancient stone pot perched atop a fort of raging wood. Amidst brutal peals of thunder, a gushing stream rises from a nearby hill, obscuring the shrill cries of the sacrificial crab.

Chanting a spell, you lift the enormous crustacean by its pincers and lower it into the growling, pitch black utensil. Blubbering helplessly, it lodges its claws at the rim of the pot in desperation, seeking escape. The sound of your maniacal laughter reverberates through the cave as you thrust it back into the violent undulation with a heavy-handed flick of the bladed-spatula. 

All of a sudden, you’re swept over with a wave of unconsciousness, your skin tingles, and boiling water begins to fill up your lungs. 

You are alone at the bottom of the very same utensil.

“Help!” frantic, you stagger up, gasping for air. But the bladed-spatula wielding crab, now untied and hovering over you, roars jubilantly at your defenseless form.

Maybe the spell didn’t land, you think. 

“Please, Chef!” you whimper as a last ditch attempt. 

In one swift motion, it swooshes down to your eye level. 

Bushy black brows sprout on its forehead, just a little over a pair of big brown circles for eyes. Then comes the nose, followed by a bloody red mouth that snarls at you.

zzzz… 

“Late again?” 

zzzz…

zzzz…

zzzz…

4:00 a.m., your phone blinks.

In a sleep befuddled state, you reach out for the wailing device. ‘Late again?’ Chef’s cold, deep voice sounds in your consciousness as you wipe the droplets of sweat off of your forehead.

Chef. 

Doh Kyungsoo had insisted on the title and you’d boldly refused to call him that. What business does a man working at a Kalguksu stand in Gwangjang Market have, being called Chef. You’d seeked redressal with the higher ups. The owner. 

Your aunt.

“Aegiya, he has something that you don’t.”

“A dick?”

“YAH! A degree in culinary arts.”

“Imo, haven’t you watched Parasite? Anyone can forge documents these days and if so then why is he here? He could very well land a job at Four Seasons like Hyunjin. Think, Imo. Think!” 

“Exactly! With forged documents, he could be anywhere. But he’s here, no?”

“Maybe you’re just easier to manipulate.”

Finally, she said in her no-nonsense, stern voice. "Chef. You’re calling him Chef.”

Every time the egotistical madman opens that darned mouth of his, it makes you want to knock him down with a roundhouse and beat the living daylights out of him. 

But, counting to five, you always resist the temptation. 

Because one day, one glorious day, you’d take over your aunt’s business and the very first item on your agenda would be….well, the obvious. With a glimmer of hope, you flounder out of your comforter, muttering every cuss word you’d learnt…and crafted in the course of working with the devil himself.

.

.

.

“Ah 3000 is a bit too much for cucumbers", he says to the middle aged vendor, flashing a boyish grin. 

The face of sourcing has drastically changed in the last six months since Kyungsoo’s arrival. Prior to his dictatorship, Imo had tie-ups with vendors who’d hand deliver the produce every single day, without fail. Guess Kyungsoo didn’t fully comprehend the benefits of customer loyalty. ‘There could be better quality ingredients out there, Sajangnim…economically priced, I might add’, he’d convinced your aunt using his military corporal voice. No matter if it meant awkward break-ups with the vegetables ahjumma or the prawns ahjussi: you were left to do the dirty work.

And required to tag along for the routine 5 a.m sourcing runs. Every morning, he’d greet you with an accusatory ‘you killed my cat’ expression.

Groaning, you shift your weight from side to side. If only he’d quit flirting with every woman in the market and hurry up! The purchases have long exceeded the capacity of your humble cart. Flailing your numb arms awake, you urge him to speed up with a nudge of the knee but he glares at you like you’d asked him for a kidney. 

Kyungsoo has a tendency to overbuy but never does he help with a single bag. ‘I don’t like to sweat’ is his excuse. Which is pretty ridiculous considering he spends over ten hours a day overseeing a scorching frying pan at the stall. 

But you know better than to argue. 

Because as much as you loathe every fibre of his existence, he terrifies you a little. The man possesses the duality of a psychopath. As fierce as he is in the Market, ruthlessly competitive even, he’s quite the sweet talker. Incredibly charming. And you can bet your life on the fact that every ahjumma - whether or not a rival - would take a bullet for him.

“Ahdeul-ah”, the woman coos at him, making your insides violently contort, “you know how tight the market is these days. But I’ll throw in some more only for you.” 

The additional weight of three kilos on your right arm ends your sourcing run for the day.

***

“Chef”, huffing, you say to him on your way out, “I had a late night last night.”

“And I need to be privy to this little nugget of unwarranted information because?” He paces ahead of you at his usual lightning speed.

“No, I meant, could we stop”, panting you continue, “could we stop for a quick cup of coffee.”

Halting abruptly, he turns around to look you square in the eyes, “No.”

“Asshole!” You murmur under your breath.

“I heard that.”

.

.

.

Monday at Choi Yoonsun’s Kalguksu stall was busier than usual. 

It went by in a daze amidst the cacophony of a sizzling girdle, clanging of pots and pans and Imo’s relentless vocalization inviting guests to the stall. Having served thousands of bowls of Kalguksu and Kimchi Mandu, you rely heavily on muscle memory to get you through a workday’s demands.

Despite its massive chaos and commotion, you quite enjoyed working in the Market. 

Not being particularly skilled at much and having nearly flunked out of high school, cooking was the one thing that defined you. It was your safe harbour. You’d lost your father in an accident at the tender age of ten and your mother was forced to work long hours to put food on the table. So you honed your culinary skills, little by little, because you thought it vital for your own well-being as well as your mother’s. 

One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.

At the end of yet another rewarding day, you leave a wet towel soaking in vinegar for Kyungsoo to clean the iron girdle and proceed to tend to the dirty dishes yourself. 

“Yahh!” Imo calls out for Kyungsoo and you, thumping her hand on the table, gesturing for you to join her.

“Ahh! Imo, there’s a huge pile of dirty dishes!” You cry out in response, only to turn around to find that ass-kisser already at the table, schmoozing with your aunt. Hastily taking off your grubby apron, you wash your hands and wipe them clean with a rag cloth. Straightening your black shirt, flattening unruly flyaways, you rush toward the table but she’s already up and ready to leave, “We’ll have dinner together tonight. I want to have a word with both of you.”

“But -”

“Sajangnim”, Kyungsoo interrupts, wagging a finger in your direction, face scrunched up in mock concern, “this one’s had a late night last night -”

“Chef! So I guess I’ll be seeing you tonight. As if seeing you every day of every week wasn’t enough already!” 

An overtly saccharine smile spreads across your face and his jaw hardens in response.

“Aish….you two…I’m leaving now”, shaking her head, she sighs, “see you both in two hours.”

.

.

.

Kimchi jjigae, Pajeon, Tteokbokki, Jajangmyeon, some leftover Bibimbap with sides galore from Hong Lim Banchan Stall. Imo clearly has something important on her mind.

But the vibe at the dinner table just doesn’t sit right with you. 

The reason for that could be the bespectacled black hole of negativity that’s seated besides you in all black clothing but there’s something off about Imo. 

She’s being a little too nice.

Fear gradually starts to settle in your bones. Is she finally closing down? Is this delectable fare an attempt at softening the blow? After all, she’d settled her husband’s debts over five years ago and her sons were doing well for themselves. Quite well, in fact. The elder one, Hyunwoo, is an investment banker and the younger one Hyunjin went to culinary school and is working as a chef at Four Seasons’ Chinese restaurant. It only makes sense for her to trade the Market’s gruelling ways for some much deserved peace and quiet.

“We’re closing down the stall”, she says coolly.

It’s like a punch in the gut.

“Imo -”

“Aegiya”, she rests her chin on her hand, face clouded over with serenity, “the Market’s given me everything. It’s given me a sense of independence…a sense of pride. It put my family back together. I used to think that I’m nothing without my husband and my sons…but the Market gave me an identity. I continued to work even after my husband’s passing not because I needed the money but because this is something that I’ve created and I’m mighty proud of what’s become of it today. My name is a brand in itself. And a decade ago I couldn’t have imagined this even in the wildest of my dreams.”

A million scenarios cascading through your head drown out Imo’s voice.

Would you now have to go back to Bucheon? Or invest in a stall of your own at the traditional Gwangjang that would never accept your big and bold ways with cooking? And to start from scratch? With a new recipe? Kalguksu with a twist, perhaps? But you had no insight into your aunt’s special broth. She’d never let you or even Kyungsoo for that matter whip up the hand-cut noodles. The two of you only ever helped with the ancillary tasks.

You soon come to the realization of not being the only one caught in the eye of the storm. Kyungsoo’s unwavering gaze is scarily fixated on the bowl of jajangmyeon before him. His miserable state gives you a fleeting sense of relief and it’s in that exact moment that he chooses to say something unpalatable.

“Sajangnim, you’ve worked too hard. It’s time for you to reap the fruits of your labour. We’ll be fine, you don’t have to worry about us.”

Of course he’ll be fine. 

Nearly all food stall owners in Gwangjang have been vying for him ever since the day he set foot into Choi Yoonsun’s with his phlegmatic personality. Whereas you had nowhere to go. The world conveniently assumes Imo hired you only because you were her poor sister’s daughter who she sought to help financially. Not because you had what it took to be there and survive.

“Did I say I was ready to retire?” She laughs, eyeing Kyungsoo quizzically. 

“Here’s the thing..I met up with a friend last month. She was looking for a buyer for her little family run restaurant in Gangnam. So I took out a loan, made her an offer”, balling her hands into fists she sighs, “put in the deposit…and the place is pretty much mine now!”

“IMO”, you yell, “you didn’t have to scare me with that long winded speech! God, you’re so dramatic!”

“Well, it is a big move. I’m not sure either of you are ready to take the leap. It requires a tonne of work and I may not be able to pay half of what you earned at the Market for at least two months until we open. It’ll take the restaurant two years or so to break even and only then will I be able to afford scaling your salaries. On the other hand, what I can do is, help you secure a job at the banchan stall since you love seasoned spinach so much and Kyungsoo even stands a chance at managing one of the Pakgane stalls!”

Pakgane is the mung bean pancake stall that had gotten so popular that the owner managed to branch out of Gwangjang. So even your beloved Imo believes that you’d make for a better “help” and Kyungsoo, a Manager. 

Ugh!

“I’m coming with you”, you say firmly, “I’ve saved up a little and Eomma will gladly pitch in, if need be…”

At this point, you’d expected Kyungsoo to be ready with his luggage considering the little sycophant he is but his expression is stoic, eyes still glued to the jajangmyeon bowl, filling you with insane hope. 

He was going to jump ship…finally!

“Chef…”, you couldn’t resist, “you don’t have to worry about us…I’m more than enough for Imo. You may…”

He shoots you an angry glare making you chew on your unsaid words. But wanting to rile him just a little more, you excuse yourself and bring out a bottle of ketchup. Squeezing it generously atop the stack of pajeon, you snicker maliciously. 

Ketchup. 

The tangy, unassuming condiment is the sole reason Kyungsoo abhors your very existence. But as this dinner marks the end of his torturous regime, you celebrate with ketchup - lots of it - right in front of his nasty eyes.

.

.

.

Steam swirls in different directions and at every twenty metres a contrastive redolence tickles your olfactory senses. Experiencing Gwangjang as a guest is clearly a far richer experience compared to the donkeywork involved in life as a vendor. 

A proper send-off is essential lest Kyungsoo decides to stay, even if it means creating a huge dent in your pocket. You plan on giving him a final tour of the Market where you could both say your goodbyes while receiving a premium fuel of vitamins, minerals and carbs. 

Lots of carbs.

“Let’s start with Pakgane”, says Kyungsoo, with a skewered sausage in one hand.

Wanting to start with nothing less than the best in order to create a lasting impression, you shake your head in response. This was supposed to be a farewell he’d never forget.

With every step, the aroma of scallops drizzled with butter and cheese grows stronger. You start your tour by ordering two portions of the delectable street food which sets you back considerably but you’re far too elated to care, even refusing Kyungsoo’s offer to pay as the woman sets the scallops ablaze with a blow torch.

“Do you know what this technique is called?” Kyungsoo gives a little nod in the direction of the flaming food.

A teachable moment. How does his own personality not wear him off?

You’d made a firm resolve to not let any of his condescension bog you down so with a sweet smile, you reply, “No, Chef. I do not.”

“Flambé, minus the alcohol. Do you know how they manage that?”

The ahjumma calls out for you and you nearly jump to collect the order, the slight upward curl of his lips coming into your peripheral vision.

***

The Market supposedly looks the same as it did fifty years ago and you quite enjoy eating your way through it. The tour makes your heart grapple with nostalgia even though your partner’s vibe is akin to a mug of insipid coffee.

Although you’d spent only a little over a year at Choi Yoonsun’s, the goodbyes were long and hard. Some of the vendors squeeze you and Kyungsoo in heart wrenching hugs, the others give you a little cash to help you through the transition and for some of the food, you pay only with smiles and thank yous.

After a gastronomic fiesta entailing tteokbokki, pajeon (minus the ketchup - you did it Kyungsoo’s way), sashimi, kimbap, different types of banchan, a thousand more teachable moments, the both of you end the day on a sweet note with hotteok. 

The ahjussi wishes you both luck, making you choke back tears. 

Your moist eyes don’t escape Kyungsoo’s attention.

“Are you…. Is the hotteok spicy? No, I mean it’s obviously not…erm”

The dam of your tears explodes. 

You were going to miss this place. Even the less appealing aspects of it. You were going to miss the kimbap unnie who greeted you with a hug everyday, also the snooty mandu ahjumma who could hardly stand the sight of Choi Yoonsun’s crew. You were going to miss washing dishes in the winters with water that was supposed to be ice and the sweltering summers that had you sweating through every layer of clothing. 

Hell, you were even going to miss Kyungsoo.

“No”, you sniffle, “No, no Chef, it’s nothing. Take care of yourself. As much as I’m glad that our fateful working relationship has met its rightful end, I truly, genuinely, wish you luck. And learn to smile a little more, yeah?”

“Are you dying?” Eyes glinting, mouth agape, he chuckles.

“What? NO! What? You’re leaving. What is wrong with you?”

“Who says I’m leaving?”

“You! You’re not coming with us to Gangnam!”

“Says who?”

“Your stupid face that looked like it was hit by a freight train when Imo broke the news last week!”

“I’m not leaving?” He draws his words out in a question.

“This is no time to joke, Chef. You are leaving!”

“Says who!”

“Your stu-”

“Stupid face? I wasn’t planning on leaving at all. I’ve even found myself a place close to the restaurant. Oh yeah, sorry for having misled you. It was really just - my stupid face.”

.

.

.

A month from Grand Opening

It’s not just about food.

Food only makes for a fifth of a restaurant’s success equation. Management and promotional skills are essential because a restaurant is, first and foremost, a business. 

Mark Lee, the young consultant from PCY Associates had imparted this crucial business knowledge to your compact team of three aspiring restaurateurs in exchange for an egg sandwich and watermelon juice. The enthu-cutlet has been overseeing the legal set-up of your humble restaurant for a month now. 

However, according to Mark, the crème de la crème of the success equation is customer service. 

Customer service. 

Here’s where the crusty Chef was supposed to take a backseat and you - a real people person, a socially adept charmer - were to sashay in and shine. 

These ideas were a bit too much for that thick, globular skull of his so you tried to educate him with a practical example. 

He’d added a rule to the first draft of the menu - a shared document for brainstorming purposes. It read ‘No ketchup for you.’ This rule (or insolence as you called it) went against your belief system as the restaurant’s to-be-anointed Manager (a girl can always hope). ‘Never say no to a customer’ being the foundation of customer service, you slashed the rule with a strikethrough. 

But the next time you tried to log in, you found yourself locked out of the document. 

“Chef, why can’t I find the draft menu anymore?”

He’s aggressively julienning leeks, pretending to not have heard you. 

“CHEF!”

“What?” Finally, he looks up. The skin between his eyebrows pinched and his arm raised to level his brand new 1-piece chef’s knife (initials etched into the blade) with his profile.

“Why-why did you lock me out of the draft menu?”, you stammer, gaze trained on the cutting edge glistening with tears of The Leeks.

Kyungsoo’s been visibly getting jittery by the day as opening day approaches.

He deliberately places the knife to the side of the board and you take a gutsy step forward. He uses a cold, serial-killer voice to ask, “What makes you think that I locked you out?”

You lean over from the other side of the granite counter, face barely an inch from his, “Who else could’ve? Imo is technologically challenged.”

“Fine”, he sighs, “I locked you out.” His lips curl up in a menacing smirk, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Grinning, you stare right into his dark eyes and let out a shrill, high-pitched scream, “IMO!”

This throws him back a few steps and he’s rubbing and pulling at his right ear when Imo walks into the kitchen. 

“Yah! Am I your babysitter? Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear about it. I am asking you”, she looks at you before spinning her head in Kyungsoo’s direction, “and you, to sort this amongst yourselves. For once!”

“But-but Imo!”, you protest.

“Aegiya, I really don’t want to ship you back to Bucheon.” 

***

“Here’s your tax ID, liquor license… okay so this was a touch-and-go because the officer is transferring to another Department and the one that’s supposed to be coming in is a real piece of work….” 

Mark Lee is here with the final set of documents. 

Imo’s eyes are gleaming with excitement and sheer joy but she’s held a businesswoman-like composure. On the other hand, Kyungsoo looks very much like himself - like someone’s sucked the life out of him. 

You bring Mark his usual egg sandwich and watermelon juice because there’s only so much your restaurant can offer at this point in time, feeling brutally overwhelmed with the volume of pending tasks until opening.

After practically inhaling his mini-meal, Mark dabs his mouth clean and says, “My work here is done. If you need anything you know where to find me. And good luck. Trust me, you’ll need it.”

Imo looks worriedly at Kyungsoo and then at Mark and at Kyungsoo again which prompts him to ask rather uncomfortably, “What do you mean ‘you’ll need it’?”

Mark’s dramatically long sigh is an indication of a sermon to follow. As he leans back into his chair, Imo and Kyungsoo instinctively cower like an invisible weight has been plopped onto their shoulders. The sight is beyond pathetic: they are like peasants before a feudal lord. It makes you want to smash the know-it-all smirk off of Mark’s face.

What comes after, though, isn’t a sermon but a sentence and a half that leaves the three of you shaken.

“The dining business here in Gangnam is hyper-competitive and most restaurants fold in six months. And if that sandwich is any indication…”

Kyungsoo valiantly advances to rescue your team out of the dark bubble of Mark Lee’s words with, “What’s wrong with the sandwich? She makes a perfectly good sandwich!”

What was supposed to be a compliment somehow sounds very wrong in your head, but before you could give him the death stare he leaps to damage control, “What I mean is, we all ate the very same sandwich for breakfast. I don’t usually dissect food for novices but the egg was perfectly cooked, mayonnaise was just the right amount and the seasoning was balanced, too. So I’m not sure what you’re trying to say. We’re serving perfectly good food here.”

“The thing is, this is something even my mother could make and dude, believe me, she’s terri…her culinary abilities are highly questionable. Also, do you think your friend would’ve sold you this place if it were thriving, Mrs. Choi? She’d inherited it from her grandfather and she sold it to you at a dirt cheap price because she was neck deep in debt. I’m sure you know, real estate here is three and a half times the country’s average. So not only do you have significant funds locked into a possibly deadweight property but also your plan clearly lacks vision. Gwangjang’s Choi Yoonsun can keep you afloat for four…maybe six months but Gangnam’s Choi Yoonsun has to create an identity for herself. Look around you, everyone’s serving good food”, Mark tilts his head in Kyungsoo’s direction, “Here, people eat with their eyes first. Now, I’m not saying family-run restaurants serving traditional cuisines don’t do well. A lot of them have been passed down for generations. What I’m saying is…..find your USP.” 

Mark squints, looks into the distance, and pinches the air a lot during this damp squib speech of his.

So the menu isn’t very different from what Choi Yoonsun served in Gwangjang. Her USP has always been homestyle cooking with a twist. But that was the demand of a Market that upheld traditionalism and Gangnam, being precipitously everchanging, would be quite something to keep up with. 

The weight of Mark’s words manifests on Kyungsoo’s shoulders. He lets out a sharp exhale and starts to clear the table, giving him plenty non-verbal cues to leave. You rush to help him out and meet his defeated form (crouched over the sink) in the kitchen.

The shuffling sound of your footsteps reaches his ears and he pivots to face you.

“We’ll be okay”, your voice is but a calm whisper prompting his creased forehead to slowly smoothen.

“We’ll be okay”, he forcefully echoes.

.

.

.

Grand Opening Day

A frisson of fear laced with excitement descends your spine.

Choi Yoonsun’s is enveloped in a pin drop silence save for the sound of Kyungsoo’s pacing. It’s grating on your nerves but Kyungsoo pacing is far better than Kyungsoo “going over the plan” for the umpteenth time. 

The kitchen’s prepped for battle so you’re seated at the cash counter, cuddled close with Imo, placated by her soothing, motherly presence. The three of you are like ticking time bombs, ready to go off at any minute.

This, right here, is the perfect example of a pinch-me-it-doesn’t-feel-real moment. You allow yourself to feel the forces at play as your eyes take in every nook and cranny of the restaurant. The place is agreeably well lit and the ventilation hoods aren’t an eyesore either. The decor’s minimalistic with a sand and stone colour scheme and the floor’s been scrubbed spotless. Eight sturdy wooden tables, tactically placed, allow for movement and privacy yet the area has been optimally utilized. 

Fifteen minutes for the ‘Open’ sign to light up. 

Kyungsoo and you proceed to help each other out with crisp bright yellow aprons affixed with red name tags (handpicked by Imo, the aprons made you both look like dumpy chicks) and clear plastic masks and wish each other luck with curt nods.

***

Imo’s sons are the first to arrive with some friends in tow. They are served with Kyungsoo’s Yachae Twigim and Budae Jjigae, your Gyeran-mari and Kimchi Bokkeum-bap and of course, Imo’s famous Kalguksu and Kimchi Mandu. Makes you wonder if they’ve had enough of it but they seem to be greatly enjoying themselves. Some of Hyunjin’s friends from Four Seasons are here too, their mighty presence driving Kyungsoo to the edge.

But a few compliments from them are enough to soothe his nerves.

Among the flurry of patrons through the day were vendors and stall owners from Gwangjang along with their family and friends, Kyungsoo’s acquaintances who you knew nothing about and neither did you care enough to ask, Mark Lee with his very handsome boss Park Chanyeol also dropped by sometime around noon. 

Your mother couldn’t make it to the opening. It stung a little but as usual, you sucked it up and went on with the highly stimulating day that anyway left you with very little time to mull over any unpleasantness.

***

By the end of it, you were pretty sure you’d wake up with blistered feet the next morning. 

It’d been a splendid opening with sales tallying up to KRW 2500,000: nearly two and a half times the estimate. Imo breaks into a dance at the figure, even Kyungsoo lips stretch into a reluctant grin.

You intensely wish Mark Lee were here to witness this euphoric win.

.

.

.

Six months later

Mark Lee had been right. 

Choi Yoonsun was miles from creating an identity in Gangnam. Regulars from Gwangjang could make it to the restaurant only twice or thrice a week, support from acquaintances had been gradually trickling, and some negative reviews floating around the internet about poor table turnover had also been driving potential guests away.

You tried to mitigate this by hiring part timers at minimum wage but for several reasons, none of them managed to stay: anti-social hours and Kyungsoo’s hostility being two of the key causes.

On your best days, the sales would total up to KRW 1500,000 and the weekday numbers had been dismal.

***

“Dooly-dooly!”

Your eyes light up at the familiarity of that voice. Mirroring its excitement, you run into the arms of its owner.

“Baekhyunnie!” 

Kyungsoo peers over his glasses while scrubbing the iron girdle, studying the floppy haired, cheerful man with a wide grin plastered across his face that’s pranced into the kitchen at closing time. 

Byun Baekhyun has been your best friend since time immemorial. Growing up in Bucheon, he’d been the only family you’d known besides your parents and Imo’s family. You weren’t even as close with Hyunwon and Hyunjin as you were with Baekhyun. Since work always kept your mother busy, his parents had practically been the ones to raise you and not once did they make you feel like an outsider.

“Yah! Quit calling me Dooly we’re not kids anymore! Have you eaten? Let me whip you up something real quick. Look at youuuu, when did you get this skinny! How long are -”

“Not to interrupt, but you’ve left the water running”, Kyungsoo drones, lazily pointing in the direction of the sink. 

You clearly remember turning it off before darting to greet Baekhyun.

‘Sonofa-’ exasperated, you mouth to Baekhyun, whose eyebrows have shot up to his hairline out of vicarious embarrassment, before turning around to face Kyungsoo who seems to be scrubbing the iron girdle to gold. “Chef, you’re closer to the sink.”

“Reiterating. You’ve left the water running. If you wanna go on tittle-tattling, by all means….this wastage is on you.”

“Make yourself comfortable”, too exhausted to pick a fight, you whisper to Baekhyun, gesturing towards the closest table, “I’ll be with you soon.”

***

“It’s bad”, Imo sighs, burying her face in her hands. 

11 P.M., two hours past closing time. 

The sparse lighting in the restaurant is causing you an eyestrain to look at the scribblings on the register. Your neck and shoulder muscles are tense from all the chopping, stirring, and scrubbing: a slow day does not translate to an easy day. You notice that Kyungsoo is growing weary, too. 

Or maybe discouraged.

You communicate with each other in evasive glances as if the restaurant not doing well is, somehow, on the two of you. 

“Imo”, Baekhyun speaks first so as to allay the looming dread, “I’ve been reading the online reviews and those who’ve visited here have been raving about the food - especially the Kalguksu. They say you’ve brought the flavours of Gwangjang to Gangnam. There’s this one thing, though - ”

“Sajangnim”, Kyungsoo interrupts a zealous Baekhyun’s pitch, “I don’t think this is any of his business. We’ve been keeping track of reviews and such - ”

“Let the boy speak. He’s family.” She says softly, pressing her fingers to her temples, clearly clutching at straws now.

Kyungsoo clenches his jaw and nods in Baekhyun’s direction, indicating him to continue.

“There-there”, Baekhyun stutters, eyes fixed on Kyungsoo who’s vaguely fascinated with his cuticles, “are some complaints about slow service. Particularly between starters and mains.”

After an uncomfortably rich pause, Imo gently rests her hand atop Baekhyun’s “Baekhyunah, how long are you here for?”

“For as long as you need”, the apples of his cheeks rise as his eyes crinkle into a gleeful smile.

***

“Somebody is early. Also, the cart looks different…it’s..?” 

Dressed in his usual black athleisure, round eyes framed with chunky glasses, Kyungsoo jogs lightly to match your out-of-character sprightly pace into the market. 

“Bigger. I bought a new one.” You chirp, shooting him an out-of-character smile.

Even the dreary weather isn’t a buzzkill because today is supposed to be Baekhyun’s first day at work.

“How did you get Sajangnim to agree? She can be -” 

“Miserly? Stingy? Close-fisted? Also, when will you stop calling her Sajangnim?”

“Just so that you can stop addressing me appropriately? Dream on. And I meant economical. Sajangnim is economical.”

“Chef, do you even listen? I bought it. With my own money. I figured since we’d need more ingredients now, we could use a bigger one.”

“And how did you come to that conclusion?” Impervious to his smug tone, you step away to pick up a one kg bulk pack of dried shiitake mushrooms while he’s examining a small batch of zucchini. 

“Because Baekhyun’s gonna be working with us now.”

“Temporarily. And we’re suddenly going to start doing better because of an inexperienced, unemployed -”

The wheels of the cart hit his ankle when you swivel it, making him wince in pain. 

“Oops! Sorry.”

“You did that on purpose!” He chides.

Half-shrugging, you say nonchalantly, “Serves you right. Baekhyun may be inexperienced but he isn’t unemployed. If anything, he’s doing us a favour. He’s whimsical like that.”

“I know”, he states, forcefully taking control of the cart, “I know he isn’t unemployed. He owns a Hapkido training academy for elementary school children and is on a break these days. I looked him up. I, personally, wouldn’t have hired him if it were my restaurant but I’m sure Sajangnim -”

“Chef?” You stop dead in your tracks.

“What?”

“You’re on…” you wanted to say ‘social media’ but the words sounded almost blasphemous to be used in front of a very uptight Doh Kyungsoo: a man with absolutely no online presence. 

“What is it?” His eyebrows knit together in annoyance.

“Nothing, let’s go.”

“You know what else is different today?” He says on your way out, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.

“Hmm?”

“You. You’ve showered.” He chortles, thinking he’s being funny.

But with a hardened expression, you let him know that he’s crossed a line.

“Too far?”

“A tad.”

“Let’s get you some coffee.” 

“No.” You smile inwardly, relishing his apologetic tone.

“No?”

“We have to pick up Baekhyun’s apron and nametag.”

.

.

.

At first you thought you were imagining this. 

A group of high school girls frequenting Choi Yoonsun’s must obviously be because they want to get healthy, homely meals instead of the trash served at fast food chains or the uneconomical subsistence of instagrammable cafes. They’re obviously not here for the charming server with an athlete’s body and a boyish grin.

“He should wear respectable clothing”, says Kyungsoo, indicating at Baekhyun’s skinny jeans and fitted black tee, hiss sharper than the sizzle of minced garlic in butter.

“Why, I don’t think his cleavage is showing”, you retort, scooping out a serving of rice from the cooker.

“You have absolutely no shame”, he states matter-of-factly, stirring the soup pot.

“What? Is my cleavage showing, too?” You ask in mock-surprise, fixing your apron theatrically.

“Forget I said anything.” 

The aroma of Kimchi Jjigae had you salivating and you couldn’t wait to taste it for seasoning. Kyungsoo’s cooking amply made up for his drab, lacklustre personality. 

“Chef, lighten up. Any publicity is good publicity.”

“You sound like a tabloid journalist”, leaving the soup to simmer, he turns around to face you, “What’s wrong with your hair?”

“I got a haircut”, scrunching your face you respond suspiciously, the fact that he noticed it despite the hair cover makes your heart palpitate.

Taking the unwarranted attention away from your hair, you ask hastily, “You think they’re here for Baekhyun and not your food, right?” 

“Ye-yes”, he stutters, looking away.

“These people wouldn’t be here time and again if it weren’t for the food, Chef. You should know that.” 

Moving closer to him, you lightly dust flour off of his shoulders. 

“How did you get flour on your shoulders?”

His ears go scarlet. 

.

.

.

Imo comes into the kitchen while Kyungsoo and you are preparing for the day ahead. Baekhyun has gone down to Bucheon to oversee the affairs of his training academy. 

“There’s this new officer who’s reviewing all liquor permits issued this year. Be careful and make sure to check all IDs twice. I’m taking the day off. Will you two be okay by yourselves?” She swooshes out of the kitchen, not bothering with your incoherent replies.

“Can’t believe they’ve ditched us on a Friday.” You grumble, soaking clams in fresh water.

“We’ll be fine.” Kyungsoo reassures you.

***

It had been quite the day and nearing closing time, your feet were going sore. Baekhyun taking on the toughest role in the restaurant made you greatly appreciate his efforts. While most guests are civil, he’s experienced his fair share of rowdy ones firsthand and his ability to deal with them is unparalleled. He’s never, ever let any matter escalate to a point of embarrassment and has demonstrated the maturity to overcome every crisis situation with a smile on his face. 

The fact that he’s only temporarily here suddenly starts to wear you out. 

Kyungsoo sticks a handwritten note on the steel holder which reads - Yangnyeom - 2. It’s only been a little over eight months since the restaurant’s been fully functional yet the holder’s worn out more because of use and less because of time. 

“About time we advanced to kitchen order tickets, right? Saves Baekhyun…or either of us unnecessary excursions to the kitchen. Also, billing will be simpler that way.” You offer while straightening your apron and getting ingredients ready for Kyungsoo to prepare the sauce.

“Yeah, it does”, he seems really out of it as he’s getting chunks of juicy chicken ready for the fryer. He’s moving around the kitchen rather clumsily, nearly tipping over the bottle of corn syrup.

“Wah, Chef, are you alright? Would you like me to do this?” 

Resting his back against the wall, he slowly sinks to the floor, face buried in hands. “Yes, please.”

While you’re preparing a sauce the recipe for which you know like the back of your hand, his instructions don’t cease. The only thing you’ve ever liked about working with this man is that contrary to Imo, he does not believe in micromanaging. But right now it feels like you’re in the kitchen with her and not with Kyungsoo.

The tension causes you to lower the chicken into the fryer hastily resulting in specks of flaming oil to splatter onto your arm. 

He’s quick to rush to your aid with a cold towel.

“Yah, Chef, you’re making me nervous, what’s with all this nitpicking?” You almost yell at him as he’s gingerly dabbing the towel on the affected area.

“I’m sorry, I am so sorry. It’s just”, he pauses briefly, worrying at his lower lip, questioning eyes peering into yours, before helping you with the chicken - slightly more confident in his movements now, “whatever you do, don’t get out of the kitchen. Table number four, those guys there, are weird.”

“Weird, how?”

“Rowdy, mannerless and drunk. Really, really drunk. Steamrolled by the ‘Friday happy’.”

“Ah, Baekhyun’s well-versed with their kind. Don’t worry, just be polite. Are you sure you don’t want me to intervene?”

“Positive and whatever happens?”

“Stay put. Chef?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s only thirty minutes to closing. We can get through this, okay? And don’t accept further orders!”

***

Twenty minutes after, you’re aimlessly scrolling through your phone to take your mind off the stabbing pain in your lower abdomen. Simultaneously playing a little game of inventing the kind of content Kyungsoo would upload if he were a user on these sites only to be jolted with the realization as to how little you know about the man.

As the restaurant’s occupied with boisterous conversations and raucous laughter, you’re counting seconds to closing. Multiplying three hundred with every bracket of five on the clock.

The din comes to an abrupt halt when you hear a middle aged man bellow, “Yah, punk, do you have a death wish?!”

Gradually moving closer to the door, you try to get a view of the scene outside.

You see a polite but firm Kyungsoo bow before the man, “We can’t serve you any more alcohol, sorry, we’ll be closing now.”

The other two men along with the nasty vermin have long passed out. You quickly call for a cab, subconsciously grabbing a hold of Kyungsoo’s knife in the process.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO YOU’RE TALKING TO RIGHT NOW?” He thunders.

Kyungsoo recoils as the man grows louder by the second. “We cannot serve you anymore alcohol, sir.”

It happens in a flash. 

So fast you almost feel like you’re astral projecting.

One moment, the man raises a hand to strike Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo swerves. You dash out of the kitchen with the knife in your hand. Face to face with the man, you scream until your lungs hurt, “GET OUT! I SAID GET OUT OF MY RESTAURANT!”

The vermin’s companions stir at the sound. 

With frightened eyes they take in the scene as their drowsy brain is still trying to assess the situation for action. They soon pull the man by his shoulders while Kyungsoo’s tugging at your knife bearing arm that’s still raised in combat mode, simultaneously apologising to the rowdy guest.

Wagging his sausage like finger at the both of you he warns menacingly, “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Slapping the tab on their table, you proceed to threaten him, “Settle this and get - the fuck - out of my restaurant before I call the cops.”

Throwing a couple of bills on the table, he staggers out, grumbling, “You just wait”, still wagging his finger and reeking of stale alcohol. 

It was only then that your grip on the knife eases as Kyungsoo carefully draws it out of your hand and you see, just like you, he’s shaking too.

“What just happened?” He’s the first to speak as you sit across the table from him, dark orbs glinting in the dim light, forehead beaded with sweat. His hands are tightly wound together as he places them on the table. One day without Baekhyun and Imo and Kyungsoo and you had messed up real bad. By the looks of it, neither of you were ready to accept this fact.

“We did exactly what we were supposed to do. Stop worrying!” You say more to yourself.

He’s not convinced.

“Chef, that man’s reaction wasn’t something that you could’ve preempted or….controlled in any way.” Finding yourself getting mildly annoyed, you try your best to lay the edge off of your voice. All you wanted was for him to be alright because, technically, none of this was his fault. 

“Would you have allowed him to take a swing at you?”

“He was far too drunk for that”, he exhales heavily and you notice his stance relax before clamping up again, “but you-you came out with a knife!”

His tone isn’t accusatory. He’s simply baffled.

“Fight or flight…”

“It’s my knife.”

“I’ll be sure to hide the murder weapon.”

He nods slowly.

“Do you need some water? Tea? A hug?”

You half expect him to scowl or groan or whatever it is that he usually does but he seems to be actually evaluating his options.

“A beer?”

“Down for Chimaek?”

Stood up to go into the kitchen, you awkwardly, and very, very slowly put an arm around his shoulders and give him a tight squeeze.

***

This was your first time having fried chicken and beer in complete silence - a few minutes felt like hours with the incident still hovering over both of you.

“Chef, you know we haven’t murdered anyone right?”

“The restaurant feels like a scene of crime to me. Also, what did he mean by ‘you just wait’?”

“Eh. Empty threats. Testosterone poisoning. Do you think they’ll throw me into prison for threatening him with a knife?”

“You should be sent in for pilfering stock”, he says gesturing at the tray between you, taking a chunky bite of the chicken, “you were going to take this home, weren’t you? It’s good, by the way.”

“Ah, this makes me happy”, you lean back into your chair, smiling discreetly at Kyungsoo’s messy fingers and mouth.

“A compliment from me makes you happy?” His eyebrows shoot up as he takes a swig of beer.

“Testosterone poisoning”, you say pointing an accusatory finger at him, “I couldn’t care less what you think. I’m pretty confident in my skills.”

“As you should be. Then what ‘makes you happy’? The thought of going to prison?”

“Yes”, you lie, “you think I’ll have a prison bitch?”

“I think you’ll be the prison bitch.”

You open your mouth to protest but what escapes is a mortifying burp.

Uncomfortable silence.

Meeting his eyes, you purse your lips, feeling your face flame. He smiles at you and says, ‘wait for it’, before belching. Loudly. Sending you both into fits of laughter.

.

.

.

“What happened here last week?”

Kyungsoo and you are seated opposite Imo like criminals before a cop in an interrogation room. Baekhyun is holed up in the kitchen, cleaning. For the most part, he avoids conflicts like these where Imo’s red hot beam of anger could be misdirected at him. 

She’s glaring at the responsible child, Kyungsoo, to break first but since it was your idea to keep the incident from her you start to explain. By the time you’re done she seems angrier, but not at the two of you. Only after a tiny lecture on how you should learn to be more tactful in such situations does she spell out her real concern.

Turns out the man the both of you had a scuffle with last week is the new officer’s brother-in-law. Now, the restaurant’s received a notice from the liquor permit’s office for an “inspection” in the coming week. Although aware that this situation isn’t either of your fault, Imo is far from pleased with this development.

“Fix this”, she orders and disappears into the kitchen.

There’s only one person who can help you out of this mess, but neither Kyungsoo nor you possess the emotional capacity to deal with him. 

“He’s our only option”, you deadpan.

With a heavy sigh, Kyungsoo dials Mark Lee.

***

Mouth stuffed with egg sandwich, Mark Lee garbles, “What do you want from me? It’s an inspection so let them come and - inspect.”

Imo’s taken off for the day and it’s just you and Kyungsoo trying to sort out the mess you weren’t entirely responsible for. 

“You said we could call you if we needed help with anything”, Kyungsoo reasons with Mark who’s now ogling at him as if he just got spoken to in an alien language.

“Yes, but I don’t see how I can be of help here?”

“Tell us anything you know about this new officer. Don’t leave anything out.” You’re nearly begging at this point and Mark Lee, as always, is reveling in your misery.

He relaxes in his seat, swirling the glass of watermelon juice, “You know you can’t buy your way out of this right? He’s an uptight bugger and you screwed up! Big time! All you had to do was give his brother-in-law a bottle of beer.”

“Oh, we’re sorry we didn’t have his family tree handy”, Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, “Besides, were just trying to abide by the rules - ”

The helplessness in Kyungsoo’s voice causes you to lose your cool at Mark. “Yah! Quit being cocky and just tell us everything you know!”

“Oh-oh feisty”, his mouth spreads into an annoying grin, “okay so he loves his wife, obviously, it’s why he’s doing this. Has an eleven year old daughter who is the apple of his eye. Erm, let’s see, he’s spent his teenage years in Japan and the country is all he’ll ever talk about. Piss him off and this inspection turns into a review and if things continue to spiral you’ll have your permit revoked. So be careful.” His eyes lock with yours making you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“What are you planning to do with this information, anyway?”

“We don’t know just yet”, Kyungsoo starts clearing up the table, as usual, and Mark knows that his time is up.

“Dude”, he leans towards you, whisper-chortling, as Kyungsoo retires into the kitchen, “did you drive him out with a knife?”

Nodding, you grin gleefully.

“Fiery! You’re totally my boss’ type.” 

***

“So what are we going to do?” Rubbing your eyes and stifling a yawn, you ask Kyungsoo.

While the world sleeps, the market is awake. Buzzing with a contagious energy. Although you hate having to wake up this early, the moment you step into this space, you’re completely taken by its vigour and gusto for life. 

It’s nothing short of a celebration.

Chefs, big and small, passionately scour every nook and corner for the perfect herbs, veggies, and meats. You may not know each other closely or even by name but you feel part of a community - part of a family. True to character, you won’t ever stop whining about this routine with friends and family and occasionally with Kyungsoo, Baekhyun, and Imo but you know it in your heart of hearts, you wouldn’t skip sourcing for the world.

“So he’s spent his teenage years in Japan right?” Kyungsoo muses, lowering a crate of mudfish in the cart for today’s special, Chueotang.

“Let’s recreate his teenage years for him. Japanese dorm meals?” 

Kyungsoo stops abruptly, “That’s a thought!”

“We can set the menu today after closing.”

“How about a coffee now?” He asks, averting your gaze as a slight smile forms on his lips.

.

.

.

On the morning of the inspection, Kyungsoo sneezed. Once. Twice. And on the third strike he was sent home by Imo because “this is not a good look”. Or forced out of the restaurant - depends on who you ask. He whined a little, even shed a few tears but Imo steeled herself and drew him out, anyway.

Although the menu is simple, the concept is layered and robust. The exercise is, after all, being undertaken merely to impress the officer in question. Well equipped for the inspection, the restaurant’s closed for the day. 

This is nothing Baekhyun and you can’t manage but, obviously, Kyungsoo feels otherwise. He’s been calling to check in in intervals of five but seems like the medication’s finally kicked in and put him in a state of deep slumber. Good for him. And for you. 

Two hours until showtime.

Under your close supervision, Baekhyun is labouring over the fairly straightforward stuff: tako sausages, potato and macaroni salad and egg sandwiches while you’ve kicked off the recipe for rolled omelettes.

Egg mixture aside, you start the rice cooker, leave green tea to boil for salmon ochazuke while the frying pan’s heating up for yaki udon.

***

Once you’d gotten all the dishes down, done exactly the way instructed by Kyungsoo: rolled omelettes, yaki udon, tako sausage, potato and macaroni salad, egg sandwiches and salmon ochazuke, it was time for you to take on the simplest but the most provoking dish on the menu.

Neko Manma. Or, cat rice. 

“Ah, Dooly, shall I bring out the jar of bonito flakes?” Baekhyun prompts.

“The one Chef brought us this morning?”

He hums in response.

“I think we should use the store bought one instead.”

“But he’s worked on this recipe all week. You sure you wanna do that?”

“Positive.”

“He’ll flip out.”

“I’ll deal with it. We’re altering the recipe for Neko Manma, this ones too pretentious. Doesn’t sit right with me.”

“So, what do you want to do with it?” Baekhyun’s tone is wary and questioning. 

“Rice, soy sauce, store bought bonito flakes and just a faint drizzle of butter. Nice and clean.” You respond confidently. 

“Are you really sure?”

***

“Why are you here?” You hiss at Kyungsoo while Imo is outside, busy greeting the motley of high-headed officials, giving them a brief of the restaurant, herself, her team, and going over the licenses and documentation. 

Face flushed, Kyungsoo’s lips are swollen and his eyes are runny, puffy, and bloodshot. He’s clearly in the need for some rest.

“To see if everything’s in order.” His voice is hoarse.

He starts to closely examine the entrees laid out, a smile of approval gracing his lips until he stops short of cat rice.

“These bonito flakes -”

“I didn’t use the fresh ones. I thought -”

“There’s no miso soup?” 

“No, Chef, I reckoned -”

“No grilled fish? Are you being lazy?”

“Chef, no, I am not being lazy. The original recipe just didn’t feel right. So i changed it up a little -”

“Changed it up? That decision was not yours to make!”

“It’s just a side, it’s not going to matter so much!”

Absolutely livid, he runs a hand through his hair and laments. “If we weren’t this close to serving i would’ve dumped this into the bin because that’s where it belongs.”

“Chef, please”, your voice quivers, “let me explain! This was supposed to be the lightest dish on the menu. We ended up styling it with… overwhelming ingredients, so I -”

“I’m utterly confused! What on earth led you to believe you’re qualified enough to teach me? I’ve trained at a diner in Tokyo for two whole years. I know exactly what I’m doing here!”

Eyes brimming with tears, you glance over and Baekhyun who has ‘I told you so’ written all over his face. 

"Kyungsooyah? When did you come in? What’s going on here?”

Imo’s bewilderment cuts through the tension. 

“Sajangnim, I was feeling slightly better so I thought of dropping by to wish you luck." 

Courtesying, he quickly dashes out through the back door. 

***

The inspection has been revoked. Unofficially, atleast. The restaurant is to receive a written order in a week’s time. 

The officer was impressed to the extent of apologising for his brother-in-law’s behaviour. He even lauded Imo on teaching her staff to stick to the establishment’s principles which made you wonder if he was fully aware of the facts of the case: knife and all. 

He also mentioned how, as a student, he’d eat a bowl of Neko Manma before every exam because at the time, to him, anything else was unpalatable. 

And that, this was what he considered to be the perfect recipe. 

You go through the rest of the day as if sleepwalking. How stupid could you have been believe you were “on good terms” with Kyungsoo or that this was an equal and productive partnership. The fact remained that he still thought of you as someone frivolous: some air-headed moron who has no idea what she’s doing. 

Someone beneath him. 

You made an effort to appreciate this victory but the day had only left you with a bitter taste. Your mother had been right. You’ve always been too soft. Too trusting. Letting people in too easily and allowing them to walk all over you. 

Now, Kyungsoo’s always been like this: controlling, stubborn, absolutely thorough. He never deviates from his well laid out plans. But today was different. Today, you expected something out of him. You expected him to trust you. You expected him to understand your reasoning, to give you a chance. To comprehend the fact that you could have a mind of your own and that not everything has to be exactly by the book. 

You loathe yourself for expecting this out of him. 

Sailing rough seas together doesn’t bloom friendships. You were stupid to think of him as a friend while, in all these months, his opinion of you had remained the same. 

Contrary to the Gwangjang days, you’d long stopped wishing him gone. In some farthest corner of your heart you were even grateful that he chose to say. 

You’ve been so stupid.

.

.

.

Two months later

The kitchen has been fervent but hushed. 

After all this time, Baekhyun, Kyungsoo and you seem to have found a rhythm. You don’t need to verbally communicate to get through a workday. 

But, you used to. 

Sometimes unnecessarily even. Kyungsoo and you hardly saw eye to eye on most things but there would be some semblance of friendly workplace banter. He’d say a little something about a perfectly done piece of meat or a well seasoned soup. Baekhyun would take wickedly funny pot shots at some of the customers (to the utmost horror of Imo). Imo would sporadically push morsels of whatever was being prepared into your mouths. 

Baekhyun receiving feedback in the form of grunts has shut him up altogether. And the busyness of the restaurant has seemed to have blinkered Imo into not being able to perceive the tension between Kyungsoo and you.

It’s a dance to no music. 

Furtive glances. Measured smiles. Curt nods. Exceptional dishes. Decent earnings. 

That’s it.

Maybe that’s how it should’ve always been.

“Ready to go?” Baekhyun asks, dressed in a well fitted black shirt and slacks. 

You’re mopping the floor. Clearly not ready to go.

When you make this known with a sharp glare, Baekhyun giggles. 

Nothing good can come out of that impish smile of his. But before you can sink your claws into him and drag him back, he’s already chatting up Kyungsoo who’s fixing the chairs.

“Kyungsoo, you coming?” He says a little too loudly and you groan. But you know Kyungsoo all too well. He’s one to decline offers involving socialising with you (unless of course, the offer is put forth by his dearest Sajangnim). 

’You can do better than that’, you mouth to Baekhyun.

Incurious about Kyungsoo’s answer, you’re fully prepared to chomp Baekhyun’s ear off for inviting him.

“Sure”, Kyungsoo says plainly.

Sure?

Without taking the where-what-why route like normal people do? Just..sure?

“Great! We’re going out for drinks since it’s Dooly’s birthday today.”

“Oh. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks. But, Chef, you can’t come. I don’t want you there. I’m sor-”

Swallowing the apology crackling at the tip of your tongue, you dash into the kitchen, your periphery catching his lowered gaze and tight smile. 

Regularising the erratic thrumming of your heart with deep breaths, you shove the mop into the storage area, take off your apron and throw it in the laundry bag (which you were to deal with the next morning), straighten your outfit, fix your hair, dab some rosy tint onto your lips, throw your tote bag over your shoulder, run back out, grab Baekhyun by purposefully lodging your nails into his arms, and take off.

#exowritersnet #exosnet #kyungsoo fluff #exo fluff #kyungsoo #exo #kyungsoo series #exo series #kyungsoo angst #exo angst #kyungsoo scenarios #exo scenarios #kyungsoo fanfic #kyungsoo fanfics #kyungsoo imagines #exo fanfic #exo imagines #kyungsoo romance #exo romance #kyungsoo x reader #kyungsoo x you

[ynkkoo-a]

Hi koo! This is a little odd, but i was wondering if you had a tutorial or could explain how you set your muse page up in your indie?

            hihiii  ,  luvbug  !  it’s  not  odd  at  all  ,  n  i  don’t  hav  a  tutorial  ,  but  —  i  dropped  the  code  into  pastebin  for  u  right  here  !  i’ve  added  jus  a  few  lil  qtips  for  u  below  !  prettie  pleathe  use  it  well  n  all  that  fun  stuff  !  if  u  need  help  ,  lmk  —  i’m  a  bit  poor  at  explaining  html  ,  but  i’ll  try  my  best  !  ^♡^

u  shld  probably  hav  at  least  basic  coding  knowledge  when  using  this  .  when  u  open  a  new  page  ,  click  the  ‘html’  button  n  paste  this  code  !

the  posts  of  the  blog  theme  ur  using  need  to  be  300px  or  else  the  muse  page  will  look  wonky  !

the  theme  ur  using  will  depend  on  how  the  lil  hover  popups  look  ,  too  !

i  provided  six  slots  under  each  verse  for  u  already  ,  so  add  or  delete  them  as  u  please  !

images  are  60px  !

ur  gna  hav  to  manually  change  the  colours  of  the  fonts  n  things  ,  here’s  a  hex  colour  picker  !

u  can  remove  the  credit  if  u  wanna  ,  considering  it’s  such  a  simple  code  ,  i  don’t  rly  mind  .  jus  don’t  repost  /  claim  as  ur  own  n  such  !

#rpt #rpc #rph #╰ ♡ › ❪ �� ❫ ↝ answered ｡ #╰ ♡ › ❪ 🍓 ❫ ↝ mine * / resources ｡ #coding. #╰ ♡ › ❪ 🍓 ❫ ↝ anonymous ｡