#also had a stew recipe open too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atinystraynstay · 4 months

Text

Love Underneath the Moon - Christopher Bahng

Synopsis: "Coming home to you keeps me fucking sane."

Pairing: idol! Christopher Bahng x fem reader

Genre: fluff at the beginning but turns smut because all I keep thinking about is Chan's back photo from Global Citizen.. thanks Changbin, established relationship, possessive Chan - Minors DNI

Contains: nudity, dirty talk, fingering (f. receiving), ending (f. receiving), mentions of female masturbation with sex toys, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, creampie, oral (f. receiving), Chan eats cum out of your pussy (idk what you even call that??)

Word Count: 4.3k

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Today has been fucking shit Nothing is going right, nobody is agreeing on anything I just want to be home with you..

Each time you read over the text messages, your heart broke a bit. Chan was the guy who put is 100% into everything he does. Not only because he wants a solid end product, but because he cares. You adored how motivated and dedicated Chan was, especially when it comes to music. He's worked so hard to get to this point.

However, with that high level of dedication came intense frustration when things weren't going his way. You wanted to help him out as much as you could, but Chan sometimes forbid you from coming to the studio. It wasn't that he didn't want you there. You were always the first one to listen to the newest songs or projects. When they were almost finished, that is. If he was in the midst of the hurricane of creativity, he wanted to wait until he rode out the storm.

That left you with only one solution - prepare for Chan to arrive home. You had cleaned the living room, so it was a comfortable space for Chan the moment he walked in. You had his favorite sandalwood candle burning on the coffee table. In the kitchen, you were preparing his favorite meal. God bless his mom for sending you the recipe. You were certain he hadn't eaten since he stepped into the studio.

Chan was the type of guy that took care of everyone before himself. That's why he got so frustrated whenever he was falling short of his own expectations. The songs were pivotal for himself but also the success of his members. He also found himself getting agitated because he was spending more time away from you.

You rarely got the chance to spoil your boyfriend. He often was too insistent that he had to take care of you first, both in the bedroom and on a day-to-day basis. Tonight was going to be different.

Suddenly, you heard the front door of your shared apartment open and the sound of footsteps. You stirred the stew cooking in the pot once more before putting a lid on it, letting it simmer for a few moments. Your boyfriend needed you.

"Princess, I'm home," called out that familiar voice. "Coming!"

Your feet couldn't have carried you faster. You rushed towards the front of the apartment where you spotted your boyfriend. He was slipping off his leather jacket, hanging it up on the coat rack before slipping out of his shoes. He groaned in relief when his feet hit the soft carpet beneath him.

"Welcome home, handsome," you greeted. Chan smiled at the sound of your voice being closer than before. He looked exhausted from his somewhat slumped posture to the look in his eyes. You knew he was due for a good night's sleep, but not before you were attentive to his needs.

Once you were close to him, you snaked your arms around his torso. He pulled you in closer, arms flexed around your smaller frame and holding you close as possible. His face nuzzled into your hair. He loved the scent of your shampoo - coconut with a hint of vanilla. It comforted him. You felt his body somewhat relax just by the physical contact. You placed tiny kisses across the side of his face and jawline.

You knew better than to ask him about work. You already got enough information how work went from the texts exchanged between the two of you. Now that he was home, you wanted to help him forget about the day.

"My girl miss me as much as I missed her?" Chan hummed lightly. "Of course I did," you whispered.

You pulled back gently, just enough to be able to look up into his eyes. He smiled once he got a view of your entire face. Keeping one arm wrapped around you, his other hand reached down to tuck a few strands of your hair behind your ear. His hand then slid forward so he cupped your cheek. His touch was warm and comforting, causing you to naturally lean your face into his palm. He grinned at the gesture.

"Now, I have a few options for us tonight-" you began. "Sweetie, I appreciate the gesture, but I'm exhausted," Chan frowned.

He hated letting you down. You quickly shook your head which caused him to furrow his eyebrows in confusion. Just wait until he hears what you have in store for him.

"If you let me finished, I was going to say you can pick what we do," you explained. You kept one arm wrapped around his torso. Your free hand slipped forward to rest on his chest. You allowed your fingertips to run up and down gently, feeling just how toned your boyfriend was. Lord have mercy.

"So, I do have dinner on the stove. It is ready for you now or I can easily put it in the fridge for after," you giggled. "You could also go take off your shirt and let me give you a message, you can go take a shower, or we can go relax in bed for a while until you feel ready to eat. Anything can happen that you'd like, baby boy."

His eyes widened in surprise as his heart swelled with happiness. How did he get so lucky?

"As much as I love your cooking, my body aches. I was going to take a hot shower before we eat, but a massage sounds even better," he confessed. His hands ran up and down your sides affectionately, stopping at your hips. He gave a light squeeze before pulling you in closer. Chan's face moved closer to yours. There was something in his mind transpiring. "And how could I pass up the opportunity of having your hands all over me?" He asked, eyebrow raised but a smirk on his lips. His voice had dropped an octave which only accentuated his accent. It also made you want to drop on your knees for him.

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

Candles were lit all around your bedroom, providing a warm glow to the room. Even under the dimmed lighting, Chan's skin still glowed. He had a playlist he created on Spotify for when the two of you would unwind at night. Currently, "I'm Probably Going To Rock Your World" by Logic was playing through the speakers.

You were straddling Chan's lower back. He was shirtless, muscles relaxed for the time being. His hands gently resting on the comforter beneath him. He always loved the feeling of your body on his. You were his anchor in this life. He would do everything and anything for you as you really go above and beyond for him.

"Just relax, baby," you whispered. "I've got you."

That's all that Chan needed to hear. He crossed his arms and let the left side of his face rest against them. From this position, he could still look back at you.

Your lips began to plant gentle kisses across his face. He had a wide grin on his lips, chuckling and blushing a bit. Chris was still getting used to the fact that you were willing to show him so much affection. He's never had a partner that seemed to be so prideful in being his. It made him all giggly. You smiled lightly against his skin as you pressed the tiny kisses which nearly killed him.

Sitting up slightly, your lips began to press into the back of his neck. They moved slowly to his shoulder blades. You've always been mesmerized by his shoulders, specifically their strength. In every sense, Chan was the strongest person you knew.

He was the leader of the group, he attended every meeting possible so the best decision was being made for the 7 members. He also constantly recorded every single that his mind came up with, most of the time for the others. He always put the 7 boys first before himself.

You also were attracted to his physical strength. You could watch the way his muscles flexed whenever he had to lift, pull, push, or do anything. You wanted to run your hands over every ridge formed, kiss every dimple. How did you get so lucky to have him all to yourself? Reaching beside you, you squirted a bit of lotion into your hands. Gently rubbing them together, just so the lotion spreads over your hands. Your hands got to work at easing his tense muscles. He groaned in bliss at the feeling of your hands against his skin. You felt your stomach tingle at the sound.

You focused on his back muscles first. Your fingertips pressed into his skin, rolling it gently. He hummed at the feeling, shutting his eyes. One of his hands though moved from underneath his head. It moved slowly to rest against your outer thigh.

There was no denying that you loved having Chan's attention. He was a very busy man. You were grateful to be a part of his world, but you loved the moments when nothing else mattered besides you. And to Chan, you were his everything. He was unafraid to show you that. "I'm sorry, sweet girl, that I've been away for a while. I cannot imagine how lonely the nights must've been."

With dance rehearsals, award shows, and promotions, you and Chan have rarely gotten time to just be with each other. Of course, you were incredibly proud to be able to witness firsthand all his hard work paying off. You just couldn't fight that you secretly wished he would be home more rather than seeing each other right when you wake up and right when you fall asleep. "Yet, here you are. Taking care of me?" Chan's hand ran up and down your bare thigh. His fingers ran along the skin, causing goosebumps to rise. He couldn't help but smirk knowing the effect he has on you. "Well, you're the one who had a bad day, baby," you rationalized. "Hmm, I did but you're always going above and beyond for me. I think it's time I return the favor." You didn't get the chance to argue with Chan. Before you knew it, Chan was sitting up. He placed both of his hands on your thighs to ease you onto the bed, so your back hit the comforter. He maneuvered himself so he however above you.

His hands left your thighs, so they could explore the rest of your body. He looked at you with love, with admiration, with lust. One hand rested on your side, caressing your stomach affectionately. The other hand was holding himself up as he leaned over you. "Much better, don't you think?" He winked.

The hand on your stomach slowly moved up underneath your shirt. He moved it slowly, wanting you to feel every ridge of his fingerprint on your skin. His hand slowly moved up and he cupped your left breast. He squeezed it gently, feeling the soft lace under his touch. Lace was always his kryptonite. "Why don't you take it off for me, darling? Hmm? Show me what belongs to me." You didn't have to be told twice. You first slipped off the oversized black shirt off your torso, the one you stole from his closet. The sleeves reached your elbows and came down to your thighs. You tossed the shirt onto the floor, exposing your white lace bra and panties to Chan. He nearly lost it.

"Like what you see?" You giggled.

When the two of you first together, you were a bit on the self-conscious side. You had a string of boyfriends who left more damage than love which made you cautious. Chan was quick to make work on dissolving any self-doubt you had about yourself. He loved watching your confidence grow because it meant that you were seeing yourself as he saw you. You were the whole universe in his eyes. "Baby girl, I fucking love it," he groaned under his breath. "And wearing all white? Really trying to be a good girl or the angel of death because you're going to kill me."

You couldn't help but giggle at his dramatics. One hand moved up to run through his hair, gripping it slightly. His jaw clenched as he could feel the lust storming inside of him. Yet, he wanted to keep his composure. He didn't want to go all in unless you gave him the green light. "You know I love you, right?" He murmured. He leaned down to press kisses into your jawline, moving down towards your neck. His lips worked rather quick. He made light nips into your skin, causing you to cling more to him. "But you want to ruin me?" You whispered into his ear.

You were quick to connect the dots. You could tell by the look in his eyes that there was something on his mind. And while you loved making love to your boyfriend, you both were craving each other. You had nowhere else to be but with each other. Your tone was light and seductive. It caused Chan's mind to become fuzzy as all he could think about was slamming his cock in your pussy. He craved your warm, wet, tight pussy as you screamed his name. The only name that could leave your mouth for the rest of your days. His inner thoughts revealed themselves as you could feel his boner pressing against your inner thigh.

"You read my fucking mind, darling." "Then what are you waiting for? Ruin my pussy for anyone else."

There it is. The green light.

He slowly sat up, looking down at you. You swore you'd never seen a more beautiful sight. And he was all yours. You smiled at him gently, showing him you were ready for everything that he was ready to give you.

The mood in the room shifted. Nothing prepared you for Chan gripping the lace of your panties and ripping them off your hips. You gasped in surprised, staring up at him with wide eyes. You always knew Chan was strong, but god damn. He could go through your whole underwear drawer if he wanted to because that was the hottest thing you've ever witnessed.

His ego boosted seeing as how your legs immediately opened for him. You have always been so responsive to him.

"My girl has been so patient for me, waiting every night for me to come home," he hummed. "Been craving this dick for so long, haven't you?" "I've missed your cock so much, daddy. Nothing can replace you." "You haven't been playing with yourself while I've been away then?" His eyebrow was raised. Oh fuck.

"Because don't think I didn't notice the pink vibrator you tucked underneath your pillow the other night. I know I never gave you permission because you never asked. What is one of daddy's rules?"

You wanted the bed to swallow you whole. You did your best to keep yourself occupied. Chan always appreciated his good girl. You would text him, saying how needy you were for his touch. The past few days of been silent on your end when it came to the topic. He figured you were just busy. "Well?" His tone now an octave lower. It accentuated his Australian accent, making your pussy become wetter in an instant. "Answer me." "To always ask daddy for permission before pleasing myself." "Very good. Daddy just likes to make sure his girl is being taken care of. I don't like lying." Before you could rush out apologizes to your significant other, his fingers smacked against your clit. The slap caused your legs to jolt a bit, pleasure running up your spin. "I really should punish you tonight." His words contradicted his actions. At first, his fingers gently rubbed small circles into your clit to ease the ache. Then, he moved his fingers to run up and down his slit. He smirked with satisfaction feeling already how wet you were for him. "But you went through so much trouble for me. It's as if you knew you got caught and were already trying to make up for it."

Your mind was a bit fuzzy already with the lust taking over. It's been weeks without the two of you being able to be intimate. There really wasn't anything that Ould replace how Chan makes you feel. You just needed something to hold you over, but you weren't able to risk saying that. You weren't in the mood for teasing. If being compliant got you what you desired most which was Chan stretching you out with his thick dick, you'd do whatever it took. "I'm sorry, daddy," you whimpered.

He smiled down at you gently before placing a lingering kiss on your forehead. You fluttered your eyes at the gesture but soon shot them up at the feeling of Chan's two fingers entering your pussy. He moved his forehead against yours, wanting to see your reaction.

His fingers already reached places your own could never. He made quick work to scissor his fingers. Chan always took pride in providing for you, in taking care of you. Foreplay and making sure you were properly ready, both physically but also emotionally and mentally were top priority for him. Skipping this step was a non-negotiable. "Oh, I know you are, baby girl. I know you can only be so patient for so long. I'm honestly impressed with how long you went before breaking." He didn't need to know just how many times you broke that rule. Not yet at least.

Your grip tightened on his hair as he curled his fingers in your pussy. The walls of your pussy were already clenching on his fingers, nearly making Chan roll his eyes back into his head. His fingers moved with urgency into you, his thumb moving to circle your clit. You cried out both in relief and pleasure at the feeling.

"My girl has really missed me."

All you could do was nod your head. You normally aren't the type to get this worked up over fingering, but given the circumstances and given that it was Chan - there was no surprise. You felt your clit throb from the stimulation and your legs twitch, your stomach growing warmer and tighter.

Not yet though. Chan wanted to experience that level of euphoria inside of you. Sure, he loved knowing that he could make you cum with just his fingers. He loved seeing that he was the one that made you see the stars.

Right now, with his cock throbbing inside his shorts, he needed to be inside of you. He wanted your pussy to squeeze his cock.

Just as you were about to warn close of your approaching high, he pulled his fingers out of you. He chuckled at your shocked state. You were so close. The lose of contact caused you to whimper. He almost felt bad. Almost.

He winked at you before sticking his two fingers in his mouth. He hummed loudly, loving the taste of you. It was his favorite thing in the world. He maintained eye contact with you, wanting you to know how attracted he was to you. He would do everything to make sure you never questioned his attraction to you.

Pop.

His fingers were pulled out of his mouth. The sound of their removal bouncing off the walls. "Sweet like honey."

Chan slowly sat up on his knees to pull his shorts. You both were grateful for your lack of clothing. it meant you two could get to each other sooner. He kicked them off, so they joined the shirts discarded on the floor. His cock slapped up against his stomach, the tip red with anger at being restrained for so long.

He was a work of art.

"No boxers, baby?" you giggled. "No, I knew I'd come up and fuck you the moment I left this morning."

You don't know what you did in your previous lives to be grated with being Chan's lover, but you were forever grateful.

Wasting no more time, Chan slid in between your legs. He placed one hand by your head. You tilted your head over to place a delicate kiss to Chan's wrist. You couldn't help yourself.

Even though it was rather intense in the room, that didn't mean you wouldn't let an opportunity pass by the show Chan how much he meant to you. He never crumbled at the gesture but quickly regained his composure.

With his free hand on your side, his knee pushed your thigh further apart. Just enough so he could slid in and place the head of your cock at your entrance. You moaned softly at the feeling. So close.

"Your pussy is mine, got it?"

You didn't even get to nod before Chan slammed into you. You moaned loudly at the feeling. His cock stretched you out, even after he fingered you properly. He groaned as your walls welcomed his cock, gripping already from how worked up and desperate you are. He rolled his head back. "So fucking gorgeous, babe. Fuck," he murmured before his hips began a brutal pace.

There was no time to hold back. You and Chan have gone far too long without being so intimate, all of it was being laid out. His hand gripped your side as his hips began to ram into you in a rhythm. The way he filled you up made you delirious.

His eyes never left you. He loved watching you fall apart in front of him. The grip you had on his bicep further encouraged him to give you everything he had.

The sound of wet skin slapping made him feral. He watched as your eyes rolled back, your cheeks a light pink color. Your lips were slightly parted as you moaned without any control. "That's it, darling. I know it feels good. Let everyone know how good it feels."

You moaned his name loudly. You're let one leg hook around his hip, keeping him close. In some ways, this is everything you wanted. You wanted him to just fuck you. Nothing more, nothing less. On the other hand, you craved just feeling him close to you. You craved his body heat.

This was all he wanted too. He wanted you all to himself, he wanted to be vulnerable and intimate with you. Having sex was just a bonus.

Given that Chan had teased you prior, it didn't take long for you to feel that familiar feeling return. Your back arched slightly as Chan made sure to angle his hips, wanting his cock to press against your g-spot and also make sure all of him was inside. You needed to feel every inch of him.

"C-Chan, I'm already close. I-I'm sorry, I can hold off and wait for you."

Your words were rushed. You felt guilty that tonight had become all about you, but honestly, this was Chan's perfect night. He smiled sickeningly sweet at you. Even with his cock filling you to the brim, you were the sweetest person. You were looking after him still even though he wanted nothing more than to cater to your desires.

"I know, darling. Don't apologize. Just let yourself go."

Your mind hesitated for a second. However, your body had other intentions. With one powerful thrust into your pussy, you came undone. You cried out in pleasure as your vision became white. Your toes curled slightly against the comforter. Chan admired for a moment the way your body shook.

That was all it took for Chan. He came just at the sight of you reaching your orgasm. He was satisfied seeing the sheen layer of sweat that coated your face and neck. He was over the moon the way your body trembled as you came down from your high. Your pussy walls was spasming against his cock

He groaned loudly as he came into your pussy. Hot spurts of his semen filled you deliciously. You could melt into the bed with all the love surrounding you.

Slowly, Chan pulled out of you. He felt his cock twitch slightly at the sight his cum seeping out of your pussy. You attempted to close your legs, but his hands stopped you. He wanted to take a second to admire his work.

Your chest was still rising and falling, but you were trying to come down quickly to rejoin him back in reality. Chan chuckled lightly underneath his breath before leaning down, licking a long strip to collect all the cum leaving your pussy.

You could die from the sight in between your legs. Sensing your eyes on him, Chan looked up. He winked at you before swallowing his cum. Lord have mercy.

Chan kissed your inner thigh before sitting up, allowing you to close your legs. He kissed up your stomach, in between your breasts, your neck. The kisses were cool yet set your skin ablaze. Your arms wrapped around his neck once he got closer to you.

The two of you were smiling wide, eyes disappearing and cheeks aching. Yet, neither of you could care. All the lonely nights were worth it for this one singular moment. And surely, there would be more moments like tonight to come. Your fingers played with the hair on the back of Chan's neck which made him chuckle, finding it both ticklish and enduring.

Soon, his lips moved to hover over your ear. His breath was warm as it hit the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver. Your heart raced with anticipation. What else did he have up his sleeve? "I hope you enjoyed your last orgasm from me for a little bit. Bad girls still get punished, no matter how good they try to be."

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

Note: HAPPY NEW YEAR! I hope 2024 treats you well 🩷 I started writing on Tumblr as a way to bring some happiness back into my life. I've always been drawn to writing, so I'm glad that I have another way to get my thoughts, ideas, and whatever else out there for other people. I'm definitely looking to writing more in the new year

2K notes · View notes

klausysworld · 9 months

Note

Can I get some fluffy Klaus headcanons where he’s dating someone who cooks/bakes? Not as a career, but as a hobby

Klaus and his little baker girl:

When Klaus met y/n she didn’t know that he was a hybrid. She found it odd and somewhat worrying with how little he ate and often cooked or baked things for him whenever she saw him.

She knew her food was good, she’s had many friends and family members tell her so and so if he didn’t eat her food then she knew something was wrong.

Thankfully Klaus has good taste in all senses and nearly licked the plate clean.

He could see the glint of relief in her eyes and the warmth that spread through her when he told her how delicious her strawberry tart was and it made his heart swell.

It was clear to Klaus that this was y/n’s love language, giving to him and caring for him.

Klaus wasn’t used to walking in to a warm meal and a smiling face each night.

Every night he made sure to stop at y/n’s knowing she would have something ready for him no matter how late he showed up. He found that since knowing her, he felt hunger for something other than blood but instead for actual food and for her presence.

No matter what she was making: a stew, a roast, a steak, a pasta dish, a fish dish, something savoury or something sweet. Whatever she served him, was always delicious. And he always wanted more.

He wasn’t sure where she got all the time from to bake him his shortbread, brownies, angel cakes and other little treats. Between him being at her house and her being at work while he’s amongst a war, he didn’t know how she managed to find the time for her hobbies. But he was thankful she did nevertheless.

Klaus was certain that if he weren’t supernatural then he would’ve had diabetes from the amount of sugar she fed him. At one point he questioned if she was trying to ‘fatten him up’ to which she laughed and offered a ‘maybe?’ back to him.

He loved how sweet she was, so soft and innocent in the best of ways. Her biggest worry was that he didn’t eat enough and her main wonder of each day was what she would cook for dinner.

And when she accidentally found out he had a big family, her first thought (after getting upset that he didn’t tell her) was to invite them all for dinner. He was very reluctant but he couldn’t tell her big eager eyes no, not when he knew it was something she would love.

So after a lot of threats and physical fights, Freya, Elijah, Kol, Rebekah, Hayley and Hope all arrived at miss y/l/n’s home along with Niklaus of course.

She had made a mix of foods for them so they could pick what they wanted and made some simpler dishes for young Hope as the fancy foods didn’t appeal. It was something that instantly made the Mikaelsons like her and also have them all see the love shine in Klaus’s eyes. True, pure love.

It was the first of many things the mikaelsons would try from y/n.

Once she became a frequent visitor there and they came comfortable at hers, they were almost always snacking on something.

Elijah had a craving for cobblers and crumbles, Freya had taken to anything with strawberries in it, Kol went for anything in sight and Rebekah wanted to try everything at least once. Meanwhile Hope and Klaus were slowly learning some of y/n’s recipes and Hope was making slight alterations to make them more to her liking.

Often Klaus would notice y/n adding a cake to Hoped lunch box and sneaking out of bed early to set the breakfast table.

If she were to ever miss a meal then every mikaelson was on alert thinking she was missing.

If she didn’t bake something for a couple days then they were trying to find what was wrong and when she got too stressed and over baked Hope was bringing brownies to school while the vampires in the compound would come and steal a biscuit.

Everyone loved y/n’s baking and her cooking. Many times Freya, Rebekah and Hayley had tried to tell her to open a coffee shop but she argued she like her other job just fine and liked that food was something she did because she loved and not because it was a responsibility.

The mikaelson home was a brighter place with her cheerful smile and loving nature.

Klaus was so much happier with her caring nature around him. So much warmer as a person, whether or not it was the constant sugar rush or the flood of affection, he wasn’t sure but he loved it either way.

462 notes · View notes

the-au-collector · 3 months

Text

Was inspired by reading some LU incorrect quotes about cooking to make this little braindump. So uh yeah have some “how good are the Links at cooking” headcanons:

Wild - resident chef, obviously. Very good cook. Was taught how to at the Dueling Peaks stable and it’s very relaxing for him to cook. He genuinely enjoys cooking and has recipes saved from all over his Hyrule. He will fight the others for cooking duty, both on the road and when they’re somewhere safe. He just loves to cook. Before the Calamity, though, he could not cook. At all. He was absolutely horrible at it. Flora was surprised when she learned he knew how to cook all of a sudden.

Twilight - can only make pumpkin stew. More often than not he’s eating food from Telma’s, stuff that doesn’t need to be cooked, or he hunts and eats as a wolf.

Sky - knows a few recipes. I feel like the Knight Academy would at least teach basic recipes, so he can handle himself on his own. It’s just not especially flavorful compared to Wild’s cooking. Also pumpkin stew. If he can he will make pumpkin stew.

Warriors - also was taught how to cook because he’s a Knight, but is still a danger in the kitchen. He makes some pretty infamous gruel. It’s really bad. Keep him out of the kitchen. He lost his taste buds during the War of Eras

Time - he theoretically can cook it’s just that he makes too much of a mess when doing it. He will drop everything, spill anything, and end up covered in ingredients despite actively trying to be clean. Time makes dinner time look like a bomb went off and it’s so much of a hassle to clean and honestly a bit of a waste, especially only for bad to mediocre meals at best. He can survive when Malon’s not home, but is his food good? No. No it’s not. As a kid he was hopeless. Luckily the puppy dog eyes worked like a charm as a kid. When he got older Talon eventually sat him down and taught him how to cook basic meals. Malon’s taught him a little too, but again. He just makes a mess

Hyrule - cannot cook. Was never taught and can’t teach himself since he was never taught to read. But he does know how to find edible food on the road. He’s a really good forager and that’s how he sustained himself on his journeys

Wind - can cook some things. Granny’s been teaching him how to cook. He knows Granny’s soup recipe but he insists he can never make it right so he never actually makes it. He can cook basic fish dishes but doesn’t have an arsenal of recipes. Usually it was down to whatever he could find for cheap in a store or fish himself during his adventures. I feel like Tetra’s ship has a cook so he doesn’t need to worry about food anymore. If he had the choice, though, he would live off Granny’s soup and nothing else

Four - Can cook. Probably the most reliable cook after Wild. He can make some fancy and genuinely good dishes. He just doesn’t particularly like the stress of cooking. Red’s always worried no one’s going to like it, Green wants to experiment, Vio wants to follow the recipe to a T, and Blue just wants everyone to shut up. I feel like during his journeys he used his age, and then his height, to his advantage to get free food whenever he could. I like to think he would help his grandpa cook whenever he could as a kid and thus actually learned how to cook

Legend - Can cook, but only in a kitchen. He never managed to get the hang of cooking over an open fire. Though while he can cook, I feel like he has a special preference for baking since his uncle would make apple tarts with him when he was little. During his earlier adventures, someone would usually cook for him (except for his first, he’d usually have to steal to get by) since he was still pretty young, but he slowly learned to cook over the course of his adventures. He learned a lot on Koholint specifically, so he knows a lot of seafood dishes though he doesn’t usually make those

#Linked Universe #headcanons #lu wild #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu sky #lu time #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu four #lu wind #cooking

99 notes · View notes

mariacallous · 4 months

Text

When you think of Eastern European Jewish cuisine, which words come to mind? Light? Healthy? Plant based? Probably not. Heavy, homey and meat-centric are more like it.

Fania Lewando died during the Holocaust, but had she been given the full length of her years, Ashkenazi Jewish cuisine may have taken a turn to the vegetarian side and we might all be eating vegetarian kishke and spinach cutlets in place of brisket.

Lewando is not a household name. In fact, she would have been lost to history had it not been for an unlikely turn of events. Thanks to a serendipitous find, her 1937 work, “The Vilna Vegetarian Cookbook” (“Vegetarish-Dietisher Kokhbukh”in Yiddish), was saved from oblivion and introduced to the 21st century.

Vilna in the 1930s, where Lewando and her husband Lazar made their home, was a cosmopolitan city with a large Jewish population. Today, it is the capital of Lithuania but it was then part of Poland. Lewando opened a vegetarian eatery called The Vegetarian Dietetic Restaurant on the edge of the city’s Jewish quarter. It was a popular spot among both Jews and non-Jews, as well as luminaries of the Yiddish-speaking world. (Even renowned artist Marc Chagall signed the restaurant’s guest book.)

Lewando was a staunch believer in the health benefits of vegetarianism and devoted her professional life to promoting these beliefs. She wrote: “It has long been established by the highest medical authorities that food made from fruit and vegetables is far healthier and more suitable for the human organism than food made from meat.” Plus, she wrote, vegetarianism satisfies the Jewish precept of not killing living creatures.

We know little about her life other than she was born Fania Fiszlewicz in the late 1880s to a Jewish family in northern Poland. She married Lazar Lewando, an egg merchant from what is today Belarus and they eventually made their way to Vilna. They did not have children.

Lewando, to quote Jeffrey Yoskowitz, author of “The Gefilte Manifesto” was “a woman who challenged convention;” a successful entrepreneur, which was a rarity among women of the time. She supervised a kosher vegetarian kitchen on an ocean liner that traveled between Poland and the United States, and gave classes on nutrition to Jewish women in her culinary school.

“The Vilna Vegetarian Cookbook” was sold in Europe and the U.S. in Lewando’s day, but most of the copies were lost or destroyed during the Second World War. In 1995, a couple found a copy of the cookbook at a second-hand book fair in England. They understood the importance of a pre-war, Yiddish-language, vegetarian cookbook written by a woman, so purchased it and sent it to the YIVO Institute’s offices in New York. There, it joined the millions of books, periodicals and photos in YIVO’s archives.

It was discovered again by two women who visited YIVO and were captivated by the book’s contents and colorful artwork. They had it translated from Yiddish to English so it could be enjoyed by a wider audience.

Like many Ashkenazi cooks, salt was Lewando’s spice, butter her flavor and dill her herb. The book is filled with dishes you’d expect: kugels and blintzes and latkes; borscht and many ways to use cabbage. There’s imitation gefilte fish and kishke made from vegetables, breadcrumbs, eggs and butter. Her cholent (a slow-cooked Sabbath stew) recipes are meat-free, including one made with prune, apple, potatoes and butter that is a cross between a stew and a tzimmes.

There are also some surprises.

Did you know it was possible to access tomatoes, eggplants, asparagus, lemons, cranberries, olive oil, Jerusalem artichokes, blueberries and candied orange peel in pre-war Vilna? There’s a French influence, too, such as recipes for mayonnaise Provencal and iles flottante, a meringue-based dessert, and a salad of marinated cornichons with marinated mushrooms.

“It’s hard to know who the target audience was for this cookbook,” said Eve Jochnowitz, its English-language translator. “We know from contemporary memoirs that people in Vilna did not have access to these amazing amounts of butter, cream and eggs,” she said. “Lewando was writing from a somewhat privileged and bourgeois position.” While many of these recipes may have been aspirational given the poverty of the Jews at the time, the cookbook demonstrates that it was possible to obtain these ingredients in Vilna, should one have the resources to do so.

While the cookbook is filled with expensive ingredients, there is also, said Jochnowitz, “a great attention to husbanding one’s resources. She was ahead of her time in the zero-waste movement.” Lewando admonishes her readers to waste nothing. Use the cooking water in which you cooked your vegetables for soup stock. Use the vegetables from the soup stock in other dishes. “Throw nothing out,” she writes in the cookbook’s opening essay. “Everything can be made into food.” Including the liquid from fresh vegetables; Lewando instructed her readers on the art of vitamin drinks and juices, with recipes for Vitamin-Rich Beet Juice and Vitamin-Rich Carrot Juice. “This was very heroic of her,” said Jochnowitz. “There were no juice machines! You make the juice by grating the vegetables and then squeezing the juice out by hand.”

Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett, a Jewish scholar and Jewish cookbook collector, describes Lewando as “witty.” “She is showing us,” she said, “that once you eliminate meat and fish, you still have an enormous range of foods you can prepare.” Lewando is about “being creative, imaginative and innovative both with traditional dishes and with what she is introducing that is remote from the traditional repertoire.” She does that in unexpected ways. Her milchig (dairy) matzah balls, for example, have an elegance and lightness to them. She instructs the reader to make a meringue with egg whites, fold in the yolks, then combine with matzah meal, melted butter and hot water. Her sauerkraut salad includes porcini mushrooms. One of her kugels combines cauliflower, apples, sliced almonds and candied orange peel.

There is much that, through contemporary eyes, is missing in “The Vilna Vegetarian Cookbook.” The recipes do not give step-by-step instructions; rather you will find general directions. Heating instructions are vague, ranging from a “not-too-hot-oven” to a “warm oven” to a “hot oven.” Lewando assumes the reader’s familiarity with the kitchen that today’s cookbook writer would not.

Lewando and her husband were listed in the 1941 census of the Vilna Ghetto but not in the census of 1942. It is believed that they both died or were killed while attempting to escape. “She really was a visionary,” said Jochnowitz. “It is an unbearable tragedy that she did not live to see the future that she predicted and helped to bring about.”But in cooking her recipes, said Yoskowitz, as dated and incomplete as some of them may be, the conversation between then and now continues.

70 notes · View notes

risustravelogue · 1 year

Text

With You, From Now On

Summary:

It's Alhaitham's birthday, and his wish is to spend it with you.

Featuring:

Boyfriend!Alhaitham, the birthday guy himself! 🎉

Tone:

Fluff!!!

Note:

Something I wrote in a few hours for Alhaitham's birthday. I love this man so much 🥲 I kind of feel guilty I couldn't come up with any ideas before his birthday comes. But hey, I guess this impromptu thing works too! Enjoy! 💚

🔗 AO3 | masterlist 🔗

It’s Alhaitham’s birthday.

How did you know this? The Akasha, of course. The notification was the first thing you saw when you woke up. You stopped over at the Grand Bazaar to buy some groceries before going to the Akademiya, thinking to gift your crush something nice. When you arrived at the House of Daena, you skipped over to a familiar gray head’s spot and plopped onto the chair beside him.

“Happy birthday!” you whispered.

He glanced at you, then back to his book. “Thanks, I guess.”

You pouted and crossed your arms. “That’s it? Not even a smile?”

He shrugged. “I don’t really celebrate my birthday anymore. Not since my grandmother died.”

You carefully pushed his book away. “Well,” you smiled, “I’ll celebrate it with you from now on. How does that sound?”

He sighed. The resigned look in his sharp turquoise-red eyes and the small smile growing on his lips made you blush. “It’d be nice,” he said, his gaze meeting yours. “But nothing grand, please. Also, can we do this at my house? I don’t want everyone to start approaching me to give me their congratulations.”

You smiled. “I knew you’d say that, so I took the liberty to go grocery shopping for a bit of domestic celebration.” You gestured at the grocery bag on the desk. “Let me make some stew for you,” you said with a proud grin. “My friends say my stew’s really good.”

“Stew? Ah, sorry. I don’t really like soupy food,” he said with an apologetic look in his eyes.

“Oh, okay, I’ll think of something.” You mulled over your options, racking your brain for a similar recipe.

“Well,” you said after a while, “I know of another recipe using these that’s mess-free. We just need to buy some eggs on the way back.”

He nodded in approval, the small smile on his lips growing slightly wider. “That would be ideal.”

He ended up liking your cooking so much, he asked you to teach him how to make it himself.

—

It’s early in the morning. You bring an especially large baklava from Alhaitham’s favorite bakery to his house. You walk with hurried steps to catch your boyfriend before he goes to the office. The homeowner answers the door.

You hand the box of baklava over to him. “Happy birthday!”

He smiles. “Thank you.”

A blond head pops from the guest bedroom. “Today is your birthday?”

You stare at the architect over your boyfriend’s shoulder in shock. “Wait. Kaveh, you didn’t know?”

“No, I didn’t,” he says with a shrug.

Your brain works overtime as you wonder why Kaveh is surprised that today is Alhaitham’s birthday. Then, a sudden wave of realization hits you.

“Haitham,” you say, trying to articulate your thoughts. “Did you… intentionally let me see your birthday on the Akasha back then?”

Alhaitham freezes. His eyes flit away from you. Kaveh blinks cluelessly.

“Oh, I hit the bullseye,” you smirk. “Let me guess, you did it because you already had a crush on me at the time.”

He coughs. A blush creeps onto his cheeks. “I—I hadn’t realized my feelings then. It was—it was just an impulsive moment.”

“I see,” you say with a proud huff. “Impulsive when it comes to me, hmm? I’m honored.”

He walks away from you, leaving the door open behind him. You can see Kaveh’s teasing grin, gesturing at you that your boyfriend’s blushing. You follow Alhaitham into the house and join him in the kitchen. Kaveh follows not long after to hover over the baklava. You sit together in the living room to eat your portion while chatting the morning away. Kaveh finishes his slice first, and when he goes to the kitchen to wash his plate, Alhaitham pulls you against him. He dips in to kiss you with his arms circling around your waist.

“I’m glad I can spend this year’s birthday with you again,” he says quietly, his chin resting on your shoulder. “I hope you’ll be beside me until my last one.”

You turn to kiss his ear, your chest warm with affection. “Of course. That’s a promise.”

—

“Oh, get a room!”

#alhaitham #alhaitham's birthday #his birthday!!!#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #kurisu writes

203 notes · View notes

em-mermaid · 1 year

Text

Wrap Me In Your Arms and Hold Me Tight

Behold, I present to you a Renthubs fic! I have had this piece of lovely art by @briseise rattling around in my brain since it was posted and I decided it deserved to be in writing. Also, I don’t have an AO3 account so this will just be posted here. I hope you enjoy!

A date night with the monolith roomies where Etho gains the courage to ask for what he wants. (3021 words. Mild angst with a whole lot of fluff.)

Edit: there is now a bonus scene!

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

“Hey Etho! Perfect timing, the bread just came out of the oven!” Ren announces as Etho enters their small shared kitchen. Ren is wearing a kiss the cook apron and his long dark hair has been taken out of its usual ponytail. The fresh loaf of bread is sitting on the counter next to three glasses of red wine, one significantly more empty than the others. Ren grabs a full one and presents it to Etho with a flourish and a small bow. “For you, my dear!”

Etho chuckles and accepts the glass, his heart fluttering slightly as their fingers brush. “Thanks Ren. The bread smells incredible by the way.”

Ren grins, leaning back against the counter, tail thumping lightly against the drawers. “Hopefully it tastes as good as it smells. I added some new flavors this time.”

There is a crash from the room above, quickly followed by a startled shout. They look up when they hear Bdubs stomping down the stairs grumbling. His eyebrows are furrowed as he comes into view. There is a small book in his hand and his moss jacket is covered in dust. “-flimsy box, whoever made that should-” he cuts off abruptly as he notices Ren and Etho’s quiet laughter. “Hey stop that!”

“Having some trouble reaching those tall shelves?” Etho asks, smirking behind his mask.

Bdubs huffs and sets the book on the counter. “I’ll have you know, I am perfectly capable of reaching the books I need.” Etho hums skeptically as Bdubs takes off his jacket, throwing it onto a nearby chest. After only two failed attempts, he perches himself on the counter.

“Of course you are,” Ren mockingly consoles, walking over to hand him the other glass of wine. Bdubs pouts for a moment until Ren reaches out to softly cup his cheek, guiding their lips into a gentle kiss. When they part Ren adds, more sincerely, “Thank you for finding the recipe book, love. I know it is a mess up there.” Bdubs’ frustration melts and he smiles fondly at Ren.

Of course, Etho’s stomach picks this moment to growl loudly. The two look towards him, amused, and he shrugs. “Time for bread?”

Bdubs nods enthusiastically and Ren opens a drawer to grab the serrated knife.

As Ren cuts the bread, Etho takes off his mask and tucks it into the pocket of his jacket. He sips his wine and leans against the counter to watch his partners. Distantly, he wonders how they can be so casually intimate and then continue afterwards as if it was the most natural thing to do. For them, he supposes, it is.

Physical affection was something he generally shied away from. His friends and partners knew that he wasn’t usually comfortable with things like hugs or a random pat on the back, so they would either ask in the moment if it was okay or avoid it all together. It wasn’t something he had thought about too often before the three of them had decided they wanted more than just friendship. He was usually happy to go about his days, laughing and spending time with the hermits, no one expecting anything from him beyond what he offered. But right now, watching as Bdubs snaches a small slice of bread and takes a bite before feeding the rest to Ren, he realizes that he wants it with them.

—--

The smell of steak and vegetable stew fills the kitchen. Wine glasses have been refilled and only half of the bread remains. Bdubs has shifted down the counter to be closer to the stove and he is reading loudly from the cookbook.

“It says to let it simmer on low heat for twenty minutes and to stir occasionally.” He sets a timer and then looks up at Etho, who is standing in front of the pot, stirring. “What does it mean by low heat? Aren’t all stoves a little bit different? How are we supposed to know what they mean by ‘occasionally’?”

Etho sighs fondly at him while Ren, without turning away from the sink where he is washing a cutting board, replies, “Cooking is an art. The person who wrote this recipe probably doesn’t actually measure anything. More than likely they have made it enough times that they can take one look at the pot or have a small taste and just know to add more salt or let it sit for five more minutes.”

Bdubs frowns at this, glancing up at Etho for support and oh- that was unfair. One of Bdubs’ legs is propped up on the counter and he is resting his chin on his knee. He looks expectantly up at Etho through his eyelashes and Etho can’t help but let his gaze flick down towards his lips. He wonders absently if they feel as soft as they look. The corner of Bdubs’ mouth turns up slightly and he knows he’s been caught.

Warmth rises to his cheeks. Etho sets the spoon on the counter and turns towards Ren, trying to remember what they had been talking about. Thankfully, Ren doesn’t seem to notice the too long pause before Etho replies in a mostly steady voice, “I can agree with you about the person knowing the recipe inside and out, but cooking is not an art. It’s science. It’s like redstone. You start with a tutorial, or in this case, a recipe and then once you understand how the different elements work together, you can start experimenting to try and make something even better.”

“No way dude, cooking is definitely art. It is like designing a build. You throw together a bunch of delicious things and, if you pick the correct ones, it turns into a beautiful masterpiece.” Ren places the cutting board on the drying rack and finally turns towards them. He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head slightly as he, presumably, notices Etho’s pink cheeks. “You good, E?”

Etho’s orange ear flicks as nervous energy begins to bubble in his stomach. Before he can figure out how to respond, Bdubs speaks up from behind him. “I think our Etho is in need of some hugs and kisses tonight.”

Now that definitely had his face burning. Our Etho. He shuffles back and forth slightly as Ren looks between the two and smiles. Ren offers his hand out for Etho to take, “I would love that, but only if you want to. There is no pressure.”

Etho hesitates. He can’t say that Bdubs is wrong about this, but he’s not sure if he is quite ready yet. He had only recently been comfortable enough to take his mask off in front of them and, on top of that, it had only been half an hour since he had truly accepted that this was something he wanted to add to their relationship.

Sure, the thought of kissing them or letting them drag him upstairs for sleepy cuddles was something that had been lingering in the back of his mind for a while, but now it felt like a genuine possibility. But it is all so new to him. What if he messes things up? What if they think he is too awkward? Is kissing or cuddling something other people inherently understand or is there some sort of social code for how it usually goes?

No, he thinks. They won’t judge him. They never have, so why would they start now? Sure they might poke fun at him for being awkward, but they would always stop if they knew it actually bothered him. It will be okay, he reassures himself, just go one step at a time. He takes a deep breath and refocuses on Ren’s hand, still outstretched.

Heart racing, he places his hand in Ren’s. He swallows before speaking towards their interlocked fingers. “I’m, uh, not opposed, but I’m not really sure?”

“That’s okay, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that” Bdubs says softly. Ren steps closer, tugging Etho’s hand slightly so they could all properly face each other. Bdubs takes his foot off the counter so he can lean forward and reach up to put a hand on Etho’s face. His thumb is warm as it traces Etho’s scarred cheek and he adds with a small smirk, “but with the way you were lookin’ at me, how could I not bring it up?”

With that, some of the tension melts from Etho’s body and he leans into Bdubs’ palm with a bashful smile. Ren squeezes his hand and the three of them exist for a moment, content to just be in each other’s company.

They all startle as the timer for the stew goes off. Slowly, regretfully Etho pulls away to turn off the stove.

—--

The three of them sit comfortably, empty bowls and wine glasses between them on the small table. The orange glow of dusk begins to show through the windows. Bdubs yawns loudly and stretches.

“Almost time for shreep,” Bdubs announces as he gets up and takes their bowls to the sink. “Do you want to join us, E?”

“Nah, you know me. I sleep best when it’s quiet.”

Bdubs hums in response to his usual excuse, deciding for once to ignore the pointed comment about his snoring. “Alright, but can I at least give you a forehead kiss before I go to bed? I was interrupted earlier.”

Etho looks up in surprise, not realizing Bdubs had still been thinking about their earlier conversation. “Sure,” he replies quietly, a blush already rising to his cheeks.

Walking back to the table Bdubs slowly and gently places his hand on Etho’s cheek. He tilts Etho’s head up until their eyes meet and Etho’s breath hitches at the sheer adoration in his eyes. “Goodnight, my love, I will see you in the morning.” He leans down and presses a tender kiss to Etho’s forehead. Etho’s eyes flutter closed for a moment as he relishes the sensation.

It is over too soon. Etho finds himself wanting to chase after the warmth of Bdubs’ hand as it pulls away. Bdubs smiles softly at him before turning to Ren and giving him a lingering kiss on the lips.

“I’ll join you in a couple of minutes,” Ren says quietly, and Bdubs turns to go upstairs to his room.

Etho catches himself staring after Bdubs, wondering why he couldn’t manage to ask him for a proper kiss as well. He hears Ren get up and place their wine glasses near the sink. There is more shuffling as Ren opens cabinets to find a container for the leftover stew. He wonders if they realize how much he wants to let his walls down. He is chipping away at them ever so slowly, but it takes more than a couple of hours to get through a lifetime of protection.

His thoughts are interrupted when Ren clears his throat and sits down in the chair next to him. “Are you sure you are good, E? I know you are usually quiet, but you seem extra distant tonight.”

Etho considers telling him, but chickens out at the last second. “Yeah I’m all good, just tired.”

“Ok, well I’m going to head up to bed as well. You are always welcome to join us, no matter the time.”

“Thanks, I will keep that in mind.”

Ren reaches forward, smiles, and gives Etho’s hand a gentle squeeze before standing to follow Bdubs up the stairs.

—--

Later that night, Etho is pacing back and forth in his basement bedroom, tail thrashing in irritation. His jacket and gloves have been haphazardly discarded onto his dresser. Instead of his usual boots, he was wearing the slippers that Bdubs had gifted him when he moved in. He had been trying to sleep for a couple of hours, but his thoughts were too loud. For once, his room was too quiet, too empty. He usually enjoyed the solitude of night, but tonight he found himself wanting to wrap himself in Ren’s strong arms and have Bdubs’ not so quiet snores lull him to sleep. If only he could work up the courage to ask. If only he had accepted their invitation.

He finds himself desperately looking towards his bedroom door, as if his partners could hear his silent pleas for them to come down the stairs and reassure him. Logically, he knew that they were asleep, likely curled up together, oblivious to his wants. That didn’t mean he wasn’t disappointed as the moments passed and neither of them came. He reminds himself that the only way they will actually know what he wants is if he tells them. Determination surges through him and he decides it is now or never.

Swiftly, he leaves his room and climbs the many stairs up the monolith. His confidence starts to waver slightly as he leaves the basement. “It’s okay,” he murmurs to himself as he passes through the kitchen and approaches the bedroom. “You can do this.”

He stumbles slightly as their bed comes into view. In the darkness he can see Ren’s ear twitch at the noise and he freezes, unsure if he was actually intending to wake them up or just slip into the bed unnoticed. Ren saves him from making that decision as his eye cracks open and he props himself up on his elbow, looking towards Etho.

“Hey E, decided to join us?” Ren’s voice is thick with sleep. Bdubs is still curled into his chest, snoring loudly.

Etho nods and hesitantly approaches the bed. Ren scoots himself and Bdubs over slightly and gestures for Etho to lay on Bdubs’ other side. Sliding his slippers off his feet, he lifts up the covers and gingerly climbs into the bed.

“Don’t worry,” Ren whispers, “it takes a lot more than that to wake this man up.” As if to prove his point Bdubs lets out a particularly loud snore and curls even closer to Ren.

Ren watches Etho as he lays down. He is still cautious, unsure of what is allowed, not quite confident in what he wants, so he makes sure to avoid touching Bdubs as he pulls the covers up to his chest.

That’s when Ren asks the question Etho had been dreading. “If it’s okay, can I ask what made you change your mind?”

Etho shuffles around under the covers, both to get more comfortable and to stall for a moment as he tries to reign in his racing thoughts. After a few breaths, he decides on his approach.

“You remember what Bdubs said earlier about me needing some hugs and kisses?” he asks, thankful for the darkness of the room and the illusion of anonymity. Ren hums affirmatively before Etho takes another breath and continues, “I think that has been true for a while now and I really don’t know how to ask for it.”

Ren is still for a moment, except for his tail gently and nervously swishing under the covers. Etho starts to think he has made a mistake before Ren slowly reaches out and, after giving Etho enough time to say no or pull away, gently takes his hand. “I appreciate you trusting me with this, E. Is there anything in particular that you want right now?”

“I, uh, wanted to cuddle with both of you and,” he pauses to swallow before continuing in an even quieter voice, “maybe I could kiss you?” Etho is sure Ren can see his blush even in the darkness.

There is shuffling as Ren sits up. “Absolutely you can, but we will have to make do with leaning over this sleeping lump for now.” Etho chuckles quietly and sits up. Asking for this feels less intimidating now, with Ren’s light-hearted tone and Bdubs’ continued snoring to keep him grounded. They soothe his anxieties and it reminds him why he feels comfortable enough to ask for this in the first place.

Etho moves the hand not holding Ren’s to gently run it through Ren’s hair. It was something he had been wanting to do and now seemed like the perfect time. Ren smiles reassuringly and Etho lets his hand brush through it a few more times before letting it come to a rest on the back of Ren’s neck. He scans Ren’s face, taking in his kind eyes and soothing smile as Ren patiently waits for him to build up his nerve. Moments pass in the dark room and it feels like they are the only people in the universe. Then, Etho is leaning forward, gently pulling Ren towards him and finally, their lips meet.

It’s a soft, sweet thing. Ren’s facial hair tickles slightly and a warmth spreads through Etho's chest. It’s only a moment before they part, but they stay close, breathing the same air. Ren is smiling giddily and Etho is sure his expression mirrors it.

Bdubs snores loudly and rolls over towards Etho, hands seeming to search for the covers that had been displaced. Etho glances down at him before looking back at Ren. “He’s going to be so jealous.”

“Oh yes,” Ren replies. “But I’m sure we can find a way to make it up to him. Maybe with you here, he will actually stay in bed for some extra morning cuddles instead of hopping up at the crack of dawn.”

“That’s unlikely.” Etho says, stifling a yawn. It’s then that he remembers just how late it is, particularly for Ren, who has somewhat adopted Bdubs’ sleep schedule in the past few weeks. “We should sleep.”

Ren nods, settling down against the pillow. Etho follows suit hesitantly, until Ren takes their still connected hands to guide Etho’s arm around Bdubs. In response, Bdubs curls into Etho’s chest and hugs him tightly. Etho meets Ren’s amused gaze over their boyfriend’s brown curls and after a moment, finally relaxes into his hold. Ren presses himself against Bdubs’ back and pulls up the covers as he reaches his arm around to hug both of his partners.

Etho hums quietly and closes his eyes, finally drifting off to gentle snoring and a thumb rubbing calming circles into his shoulder.

#renthubs #fox etho and dog ren #human bdubs #also etho ended up leaning demiromantic #he's just like me fr fr #hope you enjoy my first ever fanfic #hermitshipping #ethubs #rendubs #mermaid writes #hermitfic

150 notes · View notes

ashandsweets · 1 year

Text

Afternoon Delight ☀️

Tommy MillerXReader Drabble

“That Tommy Miller ain’t nothing but a lowdown dirty sinner!” The flimsy porch door burst open with a rusty screech, swiftly followed by a slam loud enough for the neighbors down the block to hear.

“And when was the last time you went to church, Mama?” You were exasperated, balancing a pitcher of lemonade in one hand and plates for dinner on the palm of your other. You slowly made your way to the picnic table.

“I know you ain’t talking to me like that,” your mother clicked her tongue. She snatched the plates from you with force and set them down with a harsh clonk. “That’s the damn kettle calling the pot…” she chewed over her words for a moment, thinking to herself with brows furrowed. “That’s the damn kettle calling the pot up for crack.”

She ignored the bemusement on your face, clearly unaware of how much she butchered the phrase. You shook your head and proceeded to speak, determined to pick the right battles during this hazardous conversation.

“Mama, we’ve been through this, I’m a Buddhist-“

you barely got the sentence out before your mother slapped one hand onto her forehead, full theatrics ahead.

“Oh lord, father! Please help this child, Lord! Please!”

You pressed on, immune to her hysterics. “Anyway I’m only here for a few days to help you with the festival. Then it’s back to Boston where my vegetarian ass can actually find something to eat that hasn't been stewed all day with smoked meat.”

“Ham hock collards was your Meemaw's recipe, girl!”

“And may she rest in peace, but the fact remains that all I can eat on this table is potato salad.” You finally took your seat on the bench.

“Fine, fine. Deny my god, deny your culture, even deny me the luxury of grandchildren…” you rolled your eyes, uninterested to see where this guilt trip was heading. “But bless your heart for taking a Spirit red eye so you could serve some sweet potato pies for your mama!” She begrudgingly poured a spoonful of the mayonnaise drenched salad on your plate.

“Tommy’s coming to pick me up tomorrow morning to get the stall ready.” You shot your mother a knowing glare at her scoff. “He’s got the truck we need for your pies and the muscle I need to set up the booth. I’ll see you later there with Joel and Sarah.”

Your mother was defeated. Poor Joel, a responsible single father whom she simply adored as a neighbor, wouldn’t be available to help set-up the booth this year. He reluctantly explained the project he needed to oversee while asking your mother to watch his daughter, Sarah, for a few hours the same day. Ever the gentleman, he did offer to accompany your mother to the festival once he got back with Sarah in tow, happy to help sell pies. He also offered up the services of your old highschool flame, his little brother Tommy.

Your mother’s final words on the matter were, “Just don’t do nothing reckless, you hear me?”

Your mother was right to worry. As a teenager, Tommy was a shitty boyfriend. Too cocky and conceited to admit when he was wrong and always, always, enjoying the attention his pretty boy looks earned him. Mischievous grin kissed by curled locks he never bothered to tame. Even then, it wasn’t the attitude, his questionable idea of monogamy, or the gross chain smoking that did you both in. It was when you left for school nearly 15 years ago.

You merely took a bite of your potatoes in response to your mother’s warning.

The next day, a sputtering car engine heard from the open kitchen window let you know Tommy had arrived. You made towards the door, remembering how Tommy could never be bothered to actually get out his truck to pick you up.

Knock, knock, knock.

You halted for a second then opened the door, confused. Not only was Tommy Miller at your mother’s door, he even looked kempt. You took in the sight of Tommy with his hair pushed back. His Adam’s Apple was bobbing down a modest gulp, which caused you to trail your gaze up his chin, suspecting a clean shave this morning. He wore a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, well fitted pair of jeans, and dark brown boots that were…clean?

He cleared his throat, noticing you take in his appearance. He almost looked worried. “Mornin’ (y/n). Ready for me?” He took a step forward, one hand casually leaning on the doorframe. From this distance, you could smell the cologne off him, masking a faint scent of tobacco warming your nose.

You opened your mouth, thinking on how to best answer the question, but simply nodded your head and flashed him a sweet smile. The corners of his eyes crinkled at that and it was then you noticed that age had only made Tommy more handsome. Slight laugh lines kissed the corners of his lips, but he was still tall, shoulders still broad, and eyes still filled with mischief, though you could tell he was trying his best to behave.

You led Tommy to the kitchen where the many boxes of pies lay waiting. Your mother didn’t bother coming out of her room to greet him. Although you offered to carry more pies to the car, Tommy wouldn’t have it. He insisted on managing the bulk of them, clumsily placing each in the back of his pick-up. When it was time to get going, he bolted ahead of you and opened your side door, clearing his throat and offering his hand so you could be hoisted up. Surprised by this gesture, you accidentally slipped and Tommy instinctively grabbed the sides of your waist so you wouldn’t fall. His fingers pressed hard, but with a tinge of restraint. It was then you realized just how strong Tommy was and craved to feel those rough palms further along your body.

He pulled back quickly, clearing his throat yet again, and you shook off the trance while settling into your seat. He pulled out of the driveway and you remembered how long it had been since you were driving down a bumpy dirt road on a hot summer day with Tommy. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It almost seemed peaceful, but Tommy was never one to stay settled for long.

“So, uh…how’s the big city treating ya?” He broke the silence. You turned to him, smiling again.

“It’s been good. Different, you know what I mean?”

“Different, good?”

“Just different,” you honestly replied. “But I’m happy there. I like being able to walk everywhere. There’s a buzz of energy from all the people and I love the harbor..”

Tommy sighed and tapped the steering wheel. “What good is the ocean when it’s too cold to swim in it?”

This was the fundamental difference between you two. Tommy was a simple man. He wanted a lot of land and the type of community one could rely on. Trust like that gets built from experience, not words. You on the other hand loved the unknown and meeting new people. It was such a wonderful thing to get lost in Boston’s cobblestone roads intersected by technology. Not to mention, you loved your job at the firm, pretentious lunches with uppity clients and all.

“Tell me that I’m wrong.” Tommy challenged, pulling you from your thoughts.

“You aren’t wrong, but you aren’t right either,” you decided to change the subject. “I’m surprised you aren’t busy today helping Joel.”

Tommy grinned at that, revealing the boy you used to know. “Guess he figured I needed to see you…”

You rolled your eyes and couldn’t help but laugh. He was charming, you had to give him that.

“And now that you see me?” Two could play at this game.

Tommy sighed deeply and pulled the truck over to the side of the road under the shade of a grand oak tree. After parking, he turned to face you.

“Now that I see you…” he licked his lips and reached to hold your face. You savored the feel of his calloused hands and the cool sensation of his silver thumb ring brushing against your bottom lip. It sent heat through your body and you leaned into the touch, hinting that you wanted more. “Now, all I can think about is tasting you.”

That’s all it took. There was a crash of lips that hungrily met with frantic pulls to draw one another close. You must have looked like a couple of teenagers making out before their parents could catch them, but you were a woman now and Tommy was a man. He broke out of your embrace, heavily panting, his hair now disheveled. That’s the Tommy you know.

“Sweetheart, let’s uh, if you want that is,” he stroked your face tenderly, "let's take this to the back of the truck.”

You smirked and allowed him to unbuckle you before rushing out to meet him on the propped down cargo bed.

When all was said and done, you were sore and your mother lost three pies in the aftermath that Tommy swore he’d pay for. He leisurely rolled over on his stomach, hovering above the small of your back. He dipped his tongue there to lap up the remnants of pie, letting out a low moan.

“You tell your mama, them pies sure are delicious.”

#tommy miller #hbo the last of us #the last of us hbo #tommy the last of us #tommy x reader #light smut #18+ content #no minors #tlou #tommy tlou #tlou fic #tlou smut

78 notes · View notes

sweetwolfcupcake · 2 years

Text

Steel Blue: The Chasm

This is the second novelette of the Shades of Obsession Universe. The sequence of each member's 'love story' is yet to be put out, but Yoongi's story begins before Jin and Taehyung's.

Shades of Obsession Universe

Steel Blue Masterlist

****

Yandere Yoongi x Original Character

The knife made a low, soft thud each time it came in contact with the cutting board. The lid of the pot fogged as steam collected on its surface. Giving it a short but vigilant glance, Holly resumed her focus on chopping the vegetables. As soon as she removed the lid, a cloud of steam rushed up.

“Perfect.”

She hummed to herself as she put the vegetables into the stew. It was her boyfriend’s comfort food. And perhaps it was not an expected dish to be served for date night but tomorrow was his birthday and she wanted the date night to make it as comforting and beautiful as possible— just her and him.

She had also prepared some appetizers to his liking. All that was left was to prepare a warm and relaxing bath for him. She had filled the bathroom cabinets with his favourite bath bombs and scented candles. All the things that would loosen the stressful knots in him.

Putting the stew away, she wiped her hands and took off her apron before glancing at the clock and then at the door. It was about time, he should be home any moment. He promised to be home by—

The doorbell rang twice.

Holly rushed to open it. And as anticipated, she was greeted by her boyfriend. He gave her a tired smile.

“I kept my promise. Happy?”

Yoongi’s voice was a low baritone as he walked in, shoulders slumped and lips chapped. Despite the onset of the spring season, the evenings were frosty still and the redness of his nose showed that.

“Why don’t you freshen up first I have prepared a hot bath and—”

“Thank you.”

With that, Yoongi walked past her, straight into the bedroom. Holly stood and watched as he discarded his jacket carelessly on the bed and walked into the bathroom.

Salad.

Yes, she had not prepared the salad yet.

With that, she rushed back into the kitchen and proceeded to cut the ingredients and make a dressing for the salad before Yoongi would come back.

Holly put all her focus on the salad, and by the time she was done- satisfied with the product, she turned around, only to find Yoongi sitting at the dining table.

“Oh, you are done?” how come she never heard him walking in and sitting?

“Yes. I…I took a quick shower actually, I was hungry. I called you twice but I think you were busy with the salad.” his eyes dropped to the bowl in her grasp.

“Y-yes, yes, I think I was too engrossed with it.”

“I like the aroma.”

“It is your favourite stew.” she walked to the table and placed the salad on it. “But first, appetizers.”

“You went all three-course?”

“Four actually, I even have dessert.”

A faint smile graced his lips. “Oh, I see. Sit down, please.”

Holly sat as Yoongi prepared the plates- chopsticks for him, fork and spoon.

“That’s not needed, I know how to use chopsticks by now.”

“Yes but, I thought you would be more comfortable with these.”

“I’m comfortable with chopsticks now, don’t worry.”

And she was. Yoongi observed how well she had learnt to use them over the years. And not only chopsticks, but she also perfected his favourite dish, she had mastered so many Korean recipes.

He could not even recall when was the first time they had cooked together a delicacy of her own country. When was the last time he had cooked for her? He knew she loved his cooking.

He licked his lips and focused on plating the food. He could at least try. They had to try. The food was, needless to say, good. But all were his favourite items.

“It’s delicious.”

She smiled at his appreciation before going back to eating. The soft clinking noise was the only sound prevalent in the room until she spoke up again.

“We have a date tomorrow, you remember, right?”

Yoongi did not look up from his plate. He focused on eating instead.

“Yoongi?”

He heard her, of course, he heard her but he could not afford another day’s work hours cut short. Their date was important to him, but not more than the songs he and his team members were so diligently working on.

“I’m sorry I cannot make it tomorrow. Namjoon is working on some songs and me and Hobi are going to evaluate—”

“Hoseok can do that.”

“My inputs are just as important, you know that Holly.” he sighed, too tired for another argument.

“But Mr Kang told us that we need to spend more time with each other, at least two dates a week is required.”

“We can speak to him this weekend about my schedule then. No big deal, we will have to find an alternative.”

“It’s for the initial months. It won’t be a regular thing. You can go back to your schedule after—”

“After? After what? After a therapist fixes our relationship?”

“We did not know what else to do?”

“This was your idea.” Yoongi hissed lowly.

“So what did you expect me? Sit and watch us fall apart?” Holly held an exasperated expression as her grip on her chopstick tightened.

Yoongi stared back at her, equally frustrated.

“We could talk this out. You just booked an appointment and dragged me there.” he deadpanned.

“Really? You are either tired, frustrated, or absent- every time we tried to talk it escalated into an argument, why can’t you see we needed this!”

He noticed how beautifully she had learnt his language. When was the last time she spoke to him in her mother tongue?

“When was the last time you cooked something from your country?”

“W-what?” her eyes held confusion “How is this even relevant?”

“It is. It is very much relevant. You have–I mean don’t you miss it?”

“I miss us, Yoongi, and that is why I am trying everything in my power to save this relationship, but I cannot do this alone. I need you.”

Holly could feel the dull sting behind her eyes, all too familiar and all too quick.

This was supposed to be their night, it was supposed to end peacefully, and it was supposed to remind them how important they were to each other.

“I am here, Holly, I try to be here as much as I can but are you?”

“What do you mean?”

Yoongi opened his mouth to spit out the words that hung at the tip of his tongue but could not. It did not feel right, but that was all he could think of at the moment. Yet, her glassy eyes prevented him from screaming his heart out. He gulped and instead focused on his food.

He was hungry.

Yes, he was hungry. And tired.

“Yoongi? Yoongi, look at me. Why do you always stop like that? Tell me?”

“What?” he muttered as he looked up.

“Tell me what is wrong?”

He paused with a hard star.

“You want to know what is wrong, Holly?” he gritted out.

“This…This perfection- the perfect girlfriend who has mastered each of her boyfriend’s favourite dishes, remembers all important days…Like…Like…”

“Like what?” she was bewildered.

Was not he happy that she understood and knew him?

“I don’t know Holly…You have strived to be the ‘perfect girlfriend’... So perfect that I do not recognise you anymore!”

Holly blinked back her tears. She could not fathom his words, if anything, they confused her. What was he complaining about?

“I–I don’t understand. What do you mean? I thought you are happy.”

“Exactly! You are trying to make me happy…And you are not– you are not you anymore Holly…”

Yoongi felt tears welling up.

A whole year’s frustration piling up, ready to burst out from the tightly-closed glass jar.

“You are not the Holly I fell in love with. The one who often made simple errors in the kitchen, the one who loved desserts from her country and made me try them, the one who was curious about me, one who was comfortable in her own imperfections, the one who–I don’t know…I feel like I have never given so much effort in this relationship, and it seems forced to me, a responsibility…We are not the same people who met in that old-style ramen stall anymore!”

He knew his words were haphazard, they did not come out as he wanted, but at least he let it out. He never realised that he had raised his voice, but he felt the strain afterwards as he leaned against his chair- exhausted, frustrated, lost.

“I thought…I should learn.” she whispered out.

“Unlearn then…Please. You are a completely different person…You don’t need to be perfect, I need you here. You are assimilating, Holly, and I feel like I’m losing you. I am not perfect either, please. We can’t be this…This perfect couple, that’s not us”

“I thought–I mean we are getting married, soon, I should learn to live with you.”

Yoongi licked his lips and looked away. Growing frustrated with each passing moment. He felt utterly helpless, and it was his own doing. He just…

He shook his head and stood up. “I’m sorry, I never knew…You looked so happy that day.”

“What do you mean?”

She felt a strange chill infesting her.

“Yoongi?”

Yoongi gulped and ran his fingers through his hair. He messed up. And the guilt would not spare him a moment’s peace.

“I’m sorry…I can’t anymore. I lied to you.”

He could watch the confusion and he knew what would follow if he continued. He continued regardless, he had to let it all out.

“I was-I am not ready. I did not want to get engaged but you–I felt the need to reassure you and I thought that I would get used to it eventually. I could not…You just…You act like a perfect wife already as if-as if we are in a fucking perfect marriage- we are not Holly! People are not perfect- neither should they be. I am not. And I...I cannot take this pressure anymore.”

He watched, with welled-up eyes as tears freely flowed from her eyes. The realisation where it all went downhill dawned on her, it was like Yoongi could see the process itself. He looked away.

She had been weaving a fairytale dream- and it was smothering him.

“So…So you lied to me? Y-you proposed to me, Yoongi…Why put a ring on my finger then?” she rose from her chair as well.

“I’m sorry, I’m so…Sorry. You needed assurance, I loved you, I love you still, but I do not feel like I am with the girl I fell I fell in love with. Not anymore.”

He felt the warmth of his first tear on his heated cheek and looked away.

Seeing no other reason to stay, he walked back into the bedroom, took his previously discarded jacket from the bed and walked out of the apartment. He did not have the courage to turn back and watch the damage he had done.

There was no turning back.

Holly stood there, flinching at the sound of the door shutting. She realised that her cheeks were damp. Feeling her legs grow heavier with each passing moment, she sat back on the chair. And she kept sitting there until the hour hand struck midnight.

With no sign of Yoongi returning, she stood up, opened the fridge and took out the cake she had baked for his birthday. She gave it a long, yearning stare, before dumping it into the dustbin.

—-----

Mr Kang’s office was pristine, and for the first time, she realised how unnatural and unhomely the perfection looked.

“Should we wait for Mr Min? He knows that we have an appointment, I think.”

“He is not coming.” Holly replied simply.

She was back at Mr Kang’s office a day after Yoongi’s birthday- he did not return home since he left.

“How was the date, Ms Wilson?”

“There was no date.” it was a defeated whisper,

“Any particular reason?”

Holly remained silent, she could not bring herself to repeat the stabbing words.

“It’s okay if you do not want to tell me, how about we—”

“I’m sorry, can we cut this session short?”

Mr Kang observed her for a moment, but before he could respond, the door opened with a knock, revealing Yoongi.

“I’m sorry. I’m late.”

Yoongi gave him a nod and bow before his gaze found Holly, who did not look up.

"The session is not over, I believe?" he eyed Mr Kang expectantly.

“Of course not, Mr Min. Please sit down.”

Yoongi took a seat on the other end of the couch, the distance between them had not reduced since their first session, which was two weeks ago. But this time, Yoongi noticed.

“I heard that the date night could not happen. Any special reason?”

Yoongi stiffened and nodded.

“I did not show up.”

Mr Kang nodded before writing something on his notepad.

“We almost had a dinner date at home, the night before my birthday.” Yoongi continued with initial hesitance.

Mr Kang gave him an encouraging nod “And how did it go?”

Yoongi looked at Holly, who refused to look back at him.

He turned to Mr Kang and responded “I messed up. I was being honest- but I failed to communicate.”

“Would you explain?”

“I told her that I proposed to her because I felt pressured to do so…Which is true, but not completely. I did not feel pressured because I do not love Holly. I love her- I loved her before I proposed, I loved her while I proposed, and I love her still. I just never saw marriage as a validation of love. Perhaps I have been too afraid of this…Permanent thing. Because I know that I can never give her the tranquil married life that she had always wanted. And she adapted to my culture, my language, and my way of life so easily, so beautifully, it only reminded me how I was going to disappoint her in future. She wants marriage, I don’t. Not because I don’t love her, no, because I know that I cannot be the husband she deserves.”

He turned to Holly again, who sat still, gazing at the floor.

“You had become so busy in becoming the ‘perfect wife material’, trying to appease me, you lost yourself, Holly. And I never wanted this. And each time look at you, I realise how much less effort I have been putting in and it makes me feel pressurized. Because I am not the husband you want…This was not us, Holly. This was not the love we built together.”

Holly Wilson still refused to look up and meet his gaze, refused to break the silence from her side that was eating him alive.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry Holly, say something…I just wanted us to be back the way we were. You were you…And I-I am still me but, not you.”

“If you still loved me, if you still trusted me, you would not have lied to me. You would have told me what you felt.”

She finally broke the silence, but her voice did not rise beyond a whisper.

Min Yoongi had never been the expressive kind, and when he said that he loved her, he meant it with all of his heart. He had gone straight to Namjoon’s apartment after the argument and when he spoke with the younger, he had gained a sort of clarity of his thought, his doubts and objections. Namjoon helped him see what truly was at risk and what truly had gone wrong.

And things had started going downhill ever since the day he decided to propose to her instead of talking it out with her.

“You have to believe me this time.”

Holly only scoffed.

The silence stretched on for another moment before Mr Kang decided to break it.

“It is a good sign that you are gaining clarity Mr Min, and communicating better. This is one step forward. However, seeing the situation, why don’t we divert our approach for today? Let’s do something lighter. Okay? Ms Wilson?”

Holly finally looked up, straightened her shoulders and nodded with a quiet ‘sure’.

“So, tell me, Ms Wilson, what are the things you love about Mr Min that even he fails to notice, or appreciate? Something that very few people notice?”

Holly sighed and began after a short silence.

“I love it when he pretends that he does not need attention but just puts himself on my way to gain it. I love the way he loses himself when he plays the piano, with the little movements of his shoulders that he does involuntarily as if he is dancing to the music in his mind. I love it when…When he makes a certain sound while contemplating a task at hand. I love the way he treats his band members as his family and I adore the fact that he keeps in mind my favourite tea brand, the type, and the cookies I like to have with it. I love it when he wakes up before sunrise and takes pictures of the rising sun, only to go back to bed again. And I love it how he takes the side of the bed facing the door so that he could keep me safe.”

She paused and bit her lips, trying to hold back the tears threatening to escape her eyes.

“And I love it when his hand reaches out for mine unconsciously, even in sleep. I love his low humming while shaves in the bathroom. I love his old pinewood perfume, I love how his cheeks swell when he purses his lips…And I love it when he gets drunk- the way his face flushes and he loosens up a little. I love the way his cold hands warm up with mine, like the sun rising on a winter morning. And I love it when he cooks for me- even if it’s a simple, untoasted sandwich, I love it because he made it.”

By the time she was done, a single tear had already traced her cheek- every moment she spent with him flashed in front of her as if it were her last moments on earth and all her life had been concentrated in those, tiny, but beautiful moments- moments she would never forget.

“And Mr Min?”

Yoongi sighed inaudibly and bit the insides of his lips before he began-

“I love it when she closes her eyes to the morning sunrays as if absorbing them, I have secretly taken so many pictures of her, with the little smile playing on her lips I adore so much. I love it when she makes tiny mistakes while making a dish from my culture- it’s cute actually. I love it when she faces me in her sleep and snuggles close to me as if I am her safe person. I love the warmth her hands provide when they touch mine, and I love the feeling of our fingers intertwining together like a vine, it’s a natural instinct to go for her hand, to hold her hand. I love it when she sings in the shower, it’s quite off the tune actually- funny to the ears of a musician but I love it anyway. I love all the imperfections she possesses and has been trying so desperately to get rid of. But I want her to know, that if she does, she would be giving away a part of her that I have always adored. I love it when she wakes up often due to my movements when I wake up to take pictures of the rising sun, but then pretends to be asleep. But I notice her irregular breathing and her fluttering eyelids.”

Yoongi chuckled at the end, all the moments flooding into his mind like an old film. He turned to her, only to find her looking at him.

Finally!

He mentally sighed in relief as his eyes met hers.

“Well done, Mr Min and Ms Wilson. The session ends here.” Mr Kang declared.

Holly stood up and walked out as soon as he did without another word.

“Mr Min, could I have a word with you please?”

Mr Kang’s words paused Yoongi’s movements and he sat back down with a nod.

“As much as I can interpret, the day before yesterday, you told her how you feel regarding the engagement, am I right?”

Yoongi nodded “Yes, I did. I told her that I only proposed to her so that she would be reassured of my love for her. But for me, a ring cannot decide out love’s depth. She had always dreamt of that fairytale-like married life- filled with cosy comfort and contentment. And I cannot give her that.”

“So, where do you think the problem lies? The differences in opinion regarding married life? Or have you subconsciously pushed her away, thinking that you do not deserve her?”

Yoongi was a little taken aback by the way Mr Kang detected the deepest roots of the issue- but then again, he was a renowned couple therapist. He nodded slowly and admitted.

“I can never give her what she deserves, my life would not let me- not until I retire. But even then, music would always be my first love, her actions, her efforts make me feel so…makes me realise that I am not doing enough, I have never done enough.”

“Maybe, it is not the ‘fairy-tale marriage’ Ms Wilson wants, Mr Min- maybe it's simply marriage is what she wants- marriage with you.”

Yoongi frowned at the conclusion, but Mr Kang continued

“Had she really wanted such a perfect married life, she would have expected and urged you to fit into the ‘perfect husband material’ frame as well, but she did not, did she? Yes, she did bring in some significant changes in her own habits which, reasonably made you uncomfortable, or, miss the person she once was. But maybe, you can try looking through a different prospect? Maybe she had intended to better herself. Maybe she has been feeling unworthy of you, or insecure too?”

“What do you mean, Mr Kang?”

“What I mean is that all you both need to do is to communicate clearly, and try not to hurt each others’ feelings while doing so. I believe Ms Wilson had not hurt your feelings- not at least the way you did hers.”

Yoongi could not help but nod. He had messed up- no, he fucked up. He really fucked up this time.

“Mr Min, I want you to answer me honestly, how do you see your future?”

“In future…Well, me making more music, BTS all over the billboards around the world- not just our country,- all over the world. Me and Holly…” he paused, contemplating, before continuing- “We will get a kitten, or two. We will buy a countryside farmhouse and spend vacations there. Maybe along the way, we…we can have a child of our own.”

Mr Kang scribbled something on his notepad.

“Hm, so you see the future with Ms Wilson?”

“Of course I do.”

“And what if she is not there in the picture?”

Yoongi’s previously fidgeting fingers paused and knit together tightly

“I would rather not think so.” he deadpanned.

“So you cannot afford to lose her?”

Yoongi did not respond to the question, instead, held the therapist’s gaze with calm confidence.

“Then fight for this, for her as she has for you, Mr Min. Unknowingly, you have given her the impression that she is not important enough to you, you have unconsciously made her insecure and maybe that’s why she felt this strong need to master everything in your life and adapt so quickly.”

Yoongi felt the familiar sting behind his eyes as he opened his eyes to Hooly’s perception.

“Give her back the confidence, Mr Min, show her how important she is to you. Sometimes, it is important to show and verbally express.”

And all Yoongi could manage was a weak nod before he made his way out of the room.

****

So, finally, the first chapter of 'Steel Blue' is here, there is more angst to come. I intended to be honest regarding the problem the couple faces and not take sides and I hope I did justice to this, if not, forgive me, I am only learning.

@oppa-agust-d @mintsugarmy @amoc94 @ratherbefangirling @yoongi-wife

#yandere bts #bts yandere #yandere yoongi #yandere suga #yandere yoongi x oc #yandere idol bts #yandere idol yoongi #yandere idolverse #shades of obsession #steel blue #yandere yoongi story

156 notes · View notes

palettesofrenaissance · 15 days

Note

📄

Desc: Stormy middle of the day, gray and full of thunderclouds, stuck inside alone and needing to feel cozy, tea kettle on to boil, pile of unread books

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 (𝐈'𝐦 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞)

The sky outside is a dark greyish-indigo as the setting sun reflects through the thick clouds that are heavy with an impending, angry thunderstorm. The telltale humidity is strong in the air; it wafts through the room from the opened window. Despite, inside it's quiet, calm, and she's cozy, wearing an oversized, knitted cardigan with its sleeves tightly rolled up to her elbows.

The thick, undeniable smell of blood from her prey continues to drift in from the bathroom, mixing with the smell of the oncoming rain and the tea that's been steeping on the stove.

In the kitchen, the cast iron tea kettle sits on the stove coil, still hot and lowly simmering. Also along the counters are her cutting boards with knives, her chosen seasonings lined up, an uncorked bottle of red wine for cooking, a lemon to zest, and a stew pot on the stove and a bowl to collect excess.

In the outside distance, the first roll of thunder rumbles over the city, and through the opened window a soft breeze blows, pushing aside her curls that have strayed from her high bun.

From her speakers, her calm playlist plays and she sways her hips to the music.

This is her third time doing this. She's still thinks of herself as a beginner but has learned enough from her previous mistakes to be cleaner and thorough this time. Also, she's made sure to do this when her fiancé is out.

This isn't her first time doing this; the first time had been when her beloved fiancé witnessed her, so grotesquely and animalistic. She has been in the bathtub, hunched over a dying cat in her hands. It's dying, helpless meows gripping her fiancé's heartstrings in sorrow as he helplessly watched her sink her mouth into its corpse. Tuffs of its fur haven been pulled off. Blood dripped down her mouth, thickly slicking her luscious lips he loves so much and which he's kissed far too many times to count. Back then, her fiancé sat against the bathroom wall watching, stunned, as she ate the kidnapped neighbor's cat in order to feed.

Then, her fiancé had made her promise to not do this again—even though her turning in the first place had been his fault. She'd agreed—after discarding the feline carcass and after a hot, long shower, shes agreed with her eyes downcast as if in shame and while wrapped up in a fluffy blanket.

She had promised to not do it again—

Despite her turning being his doing.

So, now during an impeding thunderstorm and calm and cozy in her home, she flips through the cook book currently in her hands and bites off a hanging nail on her thumb, nonchalantly spinning on her toes as she paces inside the small semicircle pile of books. She mentally calculates how to replace the Chateaubriand steak in the recipe with human meat.

Still lightly dancing to the music, she ventures into the kitchen and retrieves another bowl before returning to the bathroom where her meal rests, slumped in the porcelain tub and dead. She'd already skinned his abdomen, biceps, and parts of his calves and thighs to get to the good muscle and fat.

She remembers when she first saw him—on television while sitting beside her fiancé who wore a wrinkled nose of deep disgust—and that's when she decided he'd be a delectable next target. Eating him was just a bonus and a way to savor her kill.

For her, choosing him would be getting rid of two birds with one stone, minding the online threads about him containing further disgust.

Here in her home, she's already cleaned the cuts of his meat she's already sliced. Now, she pounds them with a meat tenderizer mallet, putting to use the cooking apron her conservative great aunt and uncle gifted her last Christmas. "Choose your weapon" it read surrounded by a silhouette array of cooking utensils.

Once more, another roar of thunder echoes over the city. The clouds look like dark waves rolling over the rooftops.

The books she now has stacked nearby vary from more cooking books to those of the occult variety, to bat anatomy, to global mythologies.

The song currently playing fades out and another one begins, this one from her childhood—which her mother would play loudly on the weekends she was awoken early to help clean the whole home. It makes her smile at the warm memory, pausing to take another drink from her cup of chamomile tea.

When the rain begins to pour, she closes the front windows to halfway. By this time, her home smells heavenly—of relaxing tea and the seasonings accompanying her delectable meal that's simmering on the stovetop.

Her fiancé isn't scheduled to return until tomorrow. In the meantime, she's invited a few friends for this dinner, informing them to bring over plastic bags big enough to take away leftover limbs and carcass for themselves.

They're just as excited as she, knowing she's a newbie; they became even more excited and encouraging once it's revealed who her latest target had been.

They're just as bloodthirsty as she, and who the meal is tonight makes it just all so much more delicious.

Looking to her clock, she realizes her guests should be knocking on her door in the next 20 minutes or so. So, she goes to get dressed.

6 notes · View notes

darkhymns-fic · 11 months

Text

Resemblance

“Are you worried about Lloyd?” Colette asked, her voice a soft reminder.

During a rainy day in Asgard, Kratos takes up cooking for the party. Colette notices quite a few things.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Colette Brunel, Kratos Aurion, Lloyd Irving Rating: G Word Count: 2747 Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: I couldn’t get the image of Kratos making seafood stew out of my head and this was the result. May or may not be a dad reveal.

It rained quite often in Asgard, Kratos noticed. The city was built on hills and uneven land, and the caverns full of archaic paintings and carvings were nestled within the mountains. Along with the wind that the city was famous for also came rainfalls and thunderstorms. On its worst days, there was even danger of flooding, with many people who lived on the lower levels having to seek higher ground.

But today, it was a semi-gentle rain, the start of a summer shower that could ruin a sunhat or soak through a bedroll that wasn’t set up underneath some cover. Kratos spared a glance through the inn’s kitchen window as he watched the raindrops fall onto the stone stairs, on the half-broken walkways above, on the fallen pillars that the villagers simply walked around. The moss growing and re-growing on it was already several decades old, the rain making it glisten in what little sunlight could peek through the clouds.

He heard the kitchen door swinging open, followed by the sound of unsteady footsteps.

“Mr. Kratos, I got the pot cleaned out!” Colette was holding the gigantic iron cookware in her arms as it hid the lower half of her face. Kratos could only see a pair of blue eyes peek out over the rim, topped with brilliant yellow hair. Such a sight vanished when she predictably tripped.

It was routine at this point in the journey. Their travels consistently took them over rugged terrain, through the rapidly changing weather that foretold the decline of the world. Kratos tugged the pot away from Colette while grasping her shoulder to keep her standing. “Thank you, but it is fine to ask for help, Chosen.”

“Ah, right. I’m sorry.” Colette laughed away the stumble, even as a flush rose to her cheeks. “I’m just excited to try your cooking. What is it you’ll be making again?”

“Seafood stew. It’s a very basic recipe.” Kratos placed the pot atop the wood stove, while Colette went to retrieve some of the pre-filleted fish that had been placed within an icebox. “Though the ingredients would be easier to acquire back in Palmacosta.”

He already reached for the fish Colette handed to him—the tuna, specifically—to season with the pepper. She then dutifully stood nearby, seeming so fascinated by his actions that it made Kratos a little self-conscious.

“The meal shouldn’t take too long.”

“Oh, I know! Sorry, is it weird to stay in here?” Her tone held that same politeness when they had first met back at Iselia’s temple, but now with a familiarity to it. He supposed that was only natural after months of traveling together, and with her proper nature already easing once Lloyd and Genis joined the group. “I wanted to see how different this is from Dirk’s stew.”

His hands paused just momentarily, in mid-cut of the fish’s meat, before they resumed their task. “I must say I am not familiar with the culinary arts of dwarves. It truly must be unique.”

“It’s the only meal I know that has all sorts of pretty gems inside the food!” Colette just supplied the information with no question at all, and certainly did not see Kratos raise an eyebrow at the words. “Lloyd’s tried cooking it himself, but he can’t always find the right gems, and just plain rocks don’t work as well. But he still makes it really tasty.”

Do children in Iselia regularly eat meals like this? Kratos instantly wondered in slight horror. Perhaps it was because he had not been in Sylvarant for over a decade, so it could very well have become a custom now… He cleared his throat, already imagining a gem stuck in his throat and feeling uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry to say that I don’t have a taste for that personally. I prefer fish.”

He gave no thought to what he said, but the giggle that followed was light. “Hehe, is that why you know this recipe?”

Kratos poured a few tablespoons of olive oil into the pot, the fire already heating it up. “It’s an old recipe from Luin that I learned many years back.” He could still recall the sizzle of the vegetables in the early evening, the scent of the grass as he and another would lay out blankets on the ground so that they could eat peacefully, the weight of the bundle in her arms as she shushed it to sleep.

The nostalgia that suffused his thoughts was sudden. He paused again, then reached for the red snapper to also season thoroughly.

“I haven’t cooked this meal in many years, so I may be a bit rusty.”

And yet, he had wanted to cook it again, after all this time.

Colette was still by his side, hands clasped behind her, eyes intent. The rain continued to patter against the windowsill. It was the sort of sound Kratos would unconsciously sharpen his hearing for with his Exsphere. The soft, repeating thumps against those age-old pillars, sinking into the moss, or trickling down the stone’s face to fall to the earth beneath.

“Are you worried about Lloyd?” Colette asked, her voice a soft reminder.

He sighed to cover up the surprise he felt. “I’m mostly worried that he is taking a while to get back with the vegetables. I’ll be unable to cook this meal as intended otherwise.” He needed the onions to give the meal any decent flavor, the radishes and carrots to make it more filling and give the stew its brothy texture. But he hadn’t given much thought that the rain would make Asgard’s uneven terrain a bit more treacherous to walk over. It was likely the stone walkways that led up to the grocers was now slick with the water as well, and Lloyd did tend to be careless…

Colette gently tapped his shoulder, once again taking him out of his thoughts. “Chosen?”

“You know, Mr. Kratos, it’s okay to say you’re worried about him.” She smiled again, looking out the window as well, at the high cliffs where the windmills blew with the force of the small storm. “I think he’d be happy to hear that.”

Leave it to the Chosen, to Colette, to render him speechless. Kratos cleared his throat, gathering some of the water for the pot within a wooden cup. “I would only hope he’s not distracted from his task.”

Still, was it that obvious?

Colette had an astuteness about her that he couldn’t fail to notice. Even after awakening the first seal, she had kept firm to her role, utilizing her angelic abilities with quick skill, most likely from years of studying the texts from Cruxis. And even now, she showed her interest in a meal he was making that she had no way of tasting at all.

So far, no one else in their group had caught onto her lie. But Kratos continued to prepare the meal, mincing the garlic to fry at the bottom of the pot. The urge to apologize to her for not thinking to cook earlier in the journey nearly left his tongue. It would have been useless to say, would have brought up too many complications. Even if he was quite sure that the Chosen suspected he was more than a wandering mercenary who had appeared at just the right time.

She was certainly different from the last one he had accompanied. And the one before that, and the one before. But, the quiet air Colette sometimes had around her echoed all of the past Chosen in many ways.

He pushed the memories aside. Useless to think of them again.

“Do you also know how to cook pescatore?” Colette asked, her eyes still so curious. “My father used to make it a lot but with flounder.”

Another unexpected question from her, but Kratos was more prepared for it this time. “I don’t tend to like the sauce used for it, so I never really learned it.”

“Oh? You mean the tomato sauce?”

“Yes.”

And, perhaps, that wasn’t what he should have mentioned at all, because he saw a light within Colette’s eyes that had always been flickering. Now they brightened, like the stars shining through a veil of clouds.

“So just like—”

By then, the kitchen door burst open with the force of a hurricane, rain spilling inside and already drenching the carpet that had been laid out on the floor. The sound was so loud that Kratos nearly dropped his knife in the middle of chopping.

Kratos had been so focused on the rain that he hadn’t heard Lloyd himself until it was too late, his head already ringing from the boy’s very, very loud voice.

“I’m here! I got the other vegetables! They’re kinda soaked though!” Lloyd was panting, the paper bag he carried completely drenched, threatening to let the items inside break through and fall. “Ugh, I’m soaked now…”

Kratos noted how Lloyd tended to exaggerate some things, but he truly was drenched from head to toe. The odd white ribbons that trailed from his collar were heavy with moisture, along with his boots. His red jacket hung from his shoulders, as if now twice its usual size.

It was almost déjà vu for Lloyd to walk forward and also nearly trip, but it was Colette who saved him and the falling burden he carried. She quickly placed the paper bag full of vegetables on the counter, then turned back to face Lloyd, hands placed over Lloyd’s shoulders.

But Kratos saw the soft smile lift her lips, the joy leaving her voice. “Oh, your hair!”

A groan left the boy. “Don’t remind me. This is why I hate the rain.”

“Aw, but it looks so cute on you.”

Lloyd shook his head like a wet dog, making Colette laugh then. Usually spiked up, his hair now fell over the front of his face, effectively covering his eyes. He pushed aside one part of it to look at Colette and Kratos with at least half of his gaze. “It’s not that cute if I can’t see… It made walking around way more of a hassle.”

Questions hovered on Kratos’ tongue, such as why did Lloyd simply not wait for the rain to pass, or could he not just tie back his hair? But in the end, he was the reason Lloyd had even gone outside in the first place—and he was grateful for any kindness Lloyd afforded him.

“I trust you’re not hurt then,” he said. His tone came off flat without any intention.

Lloyd raised his head to Kratos—or in the general direction of him, still trying to see through the sheet of wet hair. “Uh, yeah! I’m fine. Sorry I was late. But I got double the ingredients, just in case!” Lloyd nodded in pride, while somehow getting even more hair over his face, instantly making him frown again.

Colette helped by pushing his hair back, but not too much. She kept a few strands hanging down, her grin stretched wide.

Well, she enjoys this, Kratos thought, already used to the pair’s affection.

“I simply needed the regular amount, but thank you, Lloyd.” It certainly was a lot of vegetables when Kratos checked the bag, but they were indeed all there. He took out one of the onions first, proceeding to peel off the outer skin. “I apologize for sending you out in such rough weather.”

“It’s fine, it’s not that bad,” Lloyd said, oblivious to the fact that he had been complaining loudly about it not even five minutes ago. “But since you’re cooking for once, I wanted to make sure we had everything we need!” He shook his hair out again, the water sputtering the fire within the wood stove.

“…Maybe you should dry up before dinner,” Kratos helpfully advised, trying to shield the cooking pot from more of Lloyd’s shakes.

“Agh, I know! Sorry.”

“I think we have a towel here,” Colette said as she searched the kitchen’s pantry and found one of the soft fabrics nearby. She quickly draped it over Lloyd’s head, hands pressed against it as she helped him dry. “It’s like drying a puppy!”

Perhaps for the first time, Kratos saw such bright red completely fill up Lloyd’s face. He typically didn’t get embarrassed with Colette, but perhaps with the rain and with Kratos being witness to them both, he was a little more self-aware. “Colette, come on…”

“Hm? Is there something wrong with what I said?”

“Not really, but you know… I’m older than a puppy!”

That brought another smile to the Chosen, but as she continued to dry Lloyd’s hair, she paused. She stared right into the boy’s face, all while Kratos let the onions sizzle and then went to chop the carrots next.

In the heated kitchen, with the crackling fire and Lloyd’s clothes still dripping rainwater to the floor, he stuttered, “W-What is it?”

“…You look similar.”

It was the way she said it that made Kratos turn, that made him look at Lloyd as well. Brown hair still fell over Lloyd’s forehead, drier now. But with the pale sunlight that streamed in through the window, it colored his hair into something brighter, his fringe slightly pointed, slightly unkempt.

Kratos, to his shame, had not recognized his son until he had heard Lloyd’s name being spoken aloud, and continued to doubt until he faced that grave out in the wilderness. But now, as Lloyd blinked at Colette, his hair looking much longer now, falling against his cheek, Kratos could also find that resemblance.

Colette quickly looked over at Kratos, then back to Lloyd, a light shining in her eyes.

The Chosen had always been astute.

“Similar to what?” Lloyd asked her, left out of a secret he had no idea even existed. “Are you going to tell me I look like another dog you found?”

Colette was still drying his hair, slower and more focused. Her right hand shifted to move the fringe away from his face. “Hm, would it be bad if I said yes?”

“Well, it beats looking like a turtle when I sleep.”

“You could be both,” Colette teased. She now draped the towel over Lloyd’s eyes, giggling at his whines. “Now I need to put you and the doggy side by side to compare.”

“Then he must be a cool-looking dog!” Lloyd countered. And soon, there was his own grin and laughter, because no matter how out there Colette’s conversation topics were, Lloyd would gladly follow along.

Kratos felt a bit more at ease then, but still wondered at Colette’s thoughtful gaze. Maybe it had just been his imagination. It was certainly no secret that Colette adored dogs and befriended every stray they met in the cities they passed through.

She couldn’t possibly know for certain, Kratos mused as he threw the sliced carrots into the pot, along with the fish so that everything could boil. That is, unless she was just hiding the fact…

…And if so, was she also calling Kratos a dog then with her comparison?

“Hey, that smells good!” Lloyd called out, leaning over to check on the simmering stew that was packed with fish, vegetables, and spices. His hair was now a little frizzy from all of Colette’s drying. “It’s not beef, but fish is like my second favorite!”

“You should eat other foods besides red meat for a good balance of nutrients,” Kratos found himself saying. “I’ll make sure your bowl has enough vegetables, since you brought us extra.”

“…I give you a compliment and you tell me that?”

Colette reached to take Lloyd’s hand, pulling him towards the kitchen door. “We should tell the others about dinner and let Kratos finish cooking. Also, your clothes are still really wet!”

Lloyd didn’t argue, except with another whine about his wet jacket and how damp it felt. Still, just before they left through the door, Colette looked back to Kratos, then said to Lloyd, “At least with Mr. Kratos’ cooking, you won’t ever have to worry about eating tomatoes.”

“Huh?” Lloyd’s confusion was so stark, even as he was led by her hands that held tight to his loose sleeves. “Wait, does he not like tomatoes either?”

Lloyd tried to turn back to look, but the door shut by then. Both of their voices faded as they went further into the inn.

Kratos topped the stew pot with the lid, then let out a great sigh.

Colette Brunel was very astute indeed.

#tales of symphonia #colette brunel #kratos aurion #lloyd irving #fanfiction #one shot

12 notes · View notes

mlmxreader · 2 years

Text

Doctor | Laszlo Kreizler x gn!reader

@king-trash-cryptid asked: This isnt on the prompt list but could you write something with Laszlo and a sick reader?

summary: Laszlo drops everything to help you get better when you're sick, quite literally everything.

tws: swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of smoking, sickness

Laszlo didn't like it one bit. Being sick was awful enough to see in his patients, in those he treated and those he tried to help, but seeing his own partner sick was completely different; his steady hand would shake and he would drop everything if you so much as grumbled and coughed, he wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't help you to get better. He hated seeing you so unwell. Even though you reassured him time and time again that you were fine, that you just had a cold and you would be right as rain in a matter of days, he was determined to help you get better.

He asked for your family's traditional recipes, which were sent to him through the post and written in partially smudged ink but still legible; he could remember a few of his own, recipes for soups and stews and broths that would certainly help. He had a recipe for practically every day of the week, something for you to at least look forward to despite your lack of appetite; although it was a hard thing to come across and it costed more than Laszlo was ready to admit, he made sure that there was ice for you to have in every drink you could stomach.

Laszlo knew, though, he knew it wouldn't last but he was still more than determined to help you through it; he gave you medication, he fed you, he gave you whatever you could stomach when it came to drinks, he swapped the duvet on the bed for a thinner blanket, he opened the windows. The fever wasn't too bad, it was more the coughing and the lack of appetite that concerned him.

The lack of energy was another thing, but fatigue and lethargy were known to make an appearance during illness; still, it was something that he kept his eye on. Especially because you were so determined to try and move around and to get about your day. He wasn't having that.

Everyone had been told not to visit Laszlo, mostly so he could focus on looking after you, but also because you had told him not to have anyone over in case they could get sick from you; it worked out either way.

But as he sat there now, laid next to you and looking at you with great concern, Laszlo gently pressed the back of his hand to your sweat soaked forehead.

"How is it, Doc?" You joked weakly, your voice hoarse and raw and the words stinging and scraping as they fell from your mouth.

Laszlo wiped the back of his hand on his shirt, and smiled a little. "You're not as feverish as you were. Do you think you'll be able to sleep?"

A rattling cough gave him his answer, but you still tried your best to smile at him. "I can try... I can go downstairs and sleep on the sofa so you can have a quiet night."

Laszlo shook his head, pulling at your arm gently until he could lace his fingers with yours, holding on tightly as he cracked a smile. "I'm not going anywhere. One night's sleep being missed won't mean anything."

You glared at him, trying not to laugh because you knew it would make your ribs ache and would make your chest tighten and feel like it was being stabbed with a blunt axe. "Yet you have a go at me about staying up."

"I have to," he said quietly. "I... I care about you, and I don't want you to be in pain."

You huffed, nodding and daring to wriggle up against his side, sighing heavily and coughing for a while before you groaned and swallowed thickly, able to feel mucous and phlegm at the back of your throat, the sticky texture of it making you want to gag and retch. "Laszlo?"

"Yes?"

"I love you," you whispered. "But tomorrow... no fucking soup, or stew, or broth or whatever the fuck. I'm sick of that shit."

"You're sick," he pointed out. "It'll help."

"So would a chilie, or a curry," you told him.

Laszlo hummed. "I can see what I can do about it... maybe Cyrus can take me to town and I can get some things but... would you be alright?"

"Yeah," you said gently, trying to be soft on your own throat. "I'm sick, I'm not dying. Or stupid."

He nodded, able to feel your sweat drip down on his shirt, a small pool of it starting to form; a shirt could be cleaned, though, you being sick wouldn't be cured overnight. "Is there anything you need? Medicine, water, food, or-"

"I'd kill for a cigarette," you admitted.

"You're sick, smoking isn't going to help," he grumbled. "I meant anything to help you relax."

"A lick of whisky wouldn't do much harm," you mused. "You got any of that hanging about?"

"Actually, yes," he nodded. "I'll get it in a minute."

"Thank you."

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

#mlem writes #dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler #the alienist imagine #the alienist #daniel brühl x you #daniel brühl imagine #daniel brühl x reader #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl imagine #daniel bruhl x you #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel bruhl

120 notes · View notes

quirkthieves · 2 months

Note

perhaps this question ought to be accompanied by a contextual statement, something along the lines of /i've known of your feelings for me for a while now/, and yet mihai spares no thoughts nor efforts to such a declaration, and instead opts to only ask what he cares to hear; certain that hinata would, be it sooner or later, pick up on the contextual clues on her own. "how long have you felt this way about me?"

Oh, yes. Hinata may rarely be described as the brightest bulb in the lamp, or the sharpest knife in the drawer (although only in the figurative sense, since when it came to literality, Hinata did quite good in both those categories), she certainly wasn't stupid, and it didn't take a lot of thinking to figure out what he meant.

It was the cheesy sort of line that only came up in her dramas, but nonetheless, coming from him, it makes her face heat up something awful. It was the sort of line that would be done in a dramatic scene-- in the rain, whispered in the bedchambers, hiding from enemy soldiers, accompanied by a swell of the backing track-- but he had the audacity to jump her with it while she was trying to figure out how to mix a packet of blood into some sort of veal-and-potato stew with a name she couldn't read that she had found online while looking up recipes that might appeal to his palate. Sure, Inugami had said he only needed human blood to survive-- but nothing would convince her that eating pomegranate seeds mixed with blood wasn't going to cause some form of malnutrition. The boy needed to eat! That was that!

"You're teasing me, aren't you? You just wanna know 'cuz you like yourself so much." She grumbles, elbowing him lightly so she could take her chopped parsley to the other end of the counter. How long had it been? It wasn't love at first sight-- she had thought he was hot, sure, but she also mostly thought that he needed to put on some pants that fit. The physical attraction had played a role in her curiosity, but it wasn't enough to keep her around, not with everything else that man was up to. A no-good layabout, with a sadistic streak to boot. Reckless at best.

"And don't think you can distract me so you can swipe a bite! You'll get your blood in your stew, and not a moment earlier." She grabs the ice-bowl with the packet inside and pulls it close, giving him a suspicious side-eye.

Yes, a pasty, white-haired, no-good layabout. In hindsight, that first impression was probably what brought her to him. In the desperate throes of grief, she was looking to cling to anything resembling her old life. Kabane had introduced her, and told her that he liked having someone to open his water for him, and she barked out a laugh, but sat and did it anyway, because anything was better than crying. And from there, she realized he was nothing like Robara in the least.

He barely acknowledged her existence, beyond the occasional demand, but he also didn't seem to care when or if she left, or when or if she re-entered, or if she watched, or if she didn't. When he looked at her, it was a gaze entirely void of expectation, like he was regarding an entity from an alien planet. Mihai Florescu didn't give a rat's ass about what Hinata did, and Hinata realized that she liked that.

The boys were, as boys are, curious-- Kabane was keen to express his newfound concern for other living beings, Shiki still expressed his suspicions, and Akira was eager to try and make her whole in the way only a naive child could think was possible. Kon bristled and glared, as young foxes do, in a way that reminded Hinata all too much of herself at that age. And Inugami, while he liked to wear an air of indifference, regarded her warily, and she did the same to him. Foxes and Tanuki never got along. Especially not ones like them.

And with Robara... She had felt his eyes and hands on her, every second of every day, and if she didn't, that meant something terrible was about to happen. Being known had become a burden. Being wanted had become a duty.

But with Mihai, she could do just about whatever she pleased, including not exist at all. He was content to pretend she didn't exist so long as she didn't encroach, and she was content to keep herself occupied away from the prying eyes of those who had a little too much good will.

And after she had her time and space, she found herself growing curious. Maybe it was then? She had asked about his games, and he explained them. That's when she learned he had a fondness for being praised, and she was easy to impress. Eventually, when she would linger in his room, he had started pointing out his impressive feats to her. He wanted her attention, but he didn't need it. She liked that, too. And she liked how the flashy game displays or his strange gadgets made it a little easier to understand ideas that her brain had long since given up on, the sort of stuff that made her shrug about having dropped out of school to take care of her sick, sick boyfriend. Mihai didn't ask about why she didn't know things, nor did he seem to care to pry. It was nice, being able to have her own secrets.

The less he needed her to take care of him, the more she wanted to. She didn't want him to need her, but she did like feeling wanted, and she wanted to impress him, too. Was that it? The exact line couldn't be pinned down-- it was just what felt natural. He was hot, and he was strong, and smart, and he had deigned to give her his time, so she wanted to prove it was time worth giving.

And sure, sometimes he was awful. But he was awful in ways so entirely out of her control and unrelated to her that it was almost a relief, for her to bicker with him, or Inugami, or both, or be chewed out by either of them-- more like when she would noogie Kaede for being a fool, or when they'd rag on Ume for his powers. It was awful, but not the kind that made her wake up in the night with a pounding heart, desperate to make sure he hadn't moved. It wasn't the kind that made her sweat when they were too far apart, or when his mouth began to curl into a frown. It was just different.

She begins to chop tomatoes, each slice cleaner than the last.

"I bet you already know, you little shit. You probably know better than I do, since you like bein' liked so much." She flicks the tomato leaf at him.

"Long enough to bother learnin' how to make your...To...Toki...- To bother with all this shit! You think I'm out here catchin' blood bags for just anybody? Now get outta my kitchen so I can finish this within my natural lifespan, asshole!"

#yeonban #DEMON OR DEVIL://HII IC #THIS ASK MADE ME SWISS W HOW ITS GOT ME ALL CHEESY

6 notes · View notes

typingdyslexiaisathing · 3 months

Text

Overcoming Anxiety (Obey Me! fanfic)

summary: Retha is getting some pampering due to feeling under the weather. When she has a moment of anxiety for her friends to step in.

Characters: OC (who is NOT the MC just a 3rd exchange student), Luke, Asmodeus, Lucifer.

content: mention of trauma, mention of depression, anxiety attack, casual fluff support, friends being there for each other

The evening was peaceful in the House of Lamentation. With Retha having a makeover session with Asmodeus and Luke for company. The sweet angel sitting in Retha's lap to plan out some recipe ideas for a baking contest. While Asmodeus fussed with Retha's appearance to be pitching cute ideas to Luke. Retha stayed seated on Asmo's bed to hug Luke and savor the moment. A good time to share between good friends.

But soon Retha grew more quiet to all but zone out. Which Luke caught on after a few minutes to turn and hug Retha tight. Which had Asmodeus pause in his filing of Retha's nails. Looking to Luke as the little angel finally noticed something was wrong with Retha. His voice holding concern as Luke said, "Wait. Retha? You feel really hot right now. Plus, your heart is racing too fast for you to be okay. Asmodeus. I think Retha caught a cold."

Asmodeus set the nail file down right away to reach his hand out to place it on Retha's forehead. The Avatar of Lust wincing to note, "Yeow. Retha. You are burning up. And not in the sexy way. Why didn't you tell us you were sick? Honey, you know better than to not say anything." Retha finally came out of her stupor to give a squeak at how close Asmodeus was to her face. But she soon gave a few wheezed coughs to pat Luke on the back. But it was obvious that Retha was starting to tremble. Looking like she was about to fall over. "Don't turn a little fever into me being on my death bed, you two. I just haven't been sleeping that great. What with going from just an ordinary human to a hybrid of different things, was bound to mean I don't get comfy at night. Plus I figure adjusting to being a Demon, Angel, Vampire, Sorceress combo would mean my body has to do serious fine tuning. So chillax."

Asmodeus put his hands on his hips to glare at Retha. Which had her bring those dragon wings at her back closer to instinctually hide herself from the very fuming glare the Avatar of Lust was giving her. Which also meant Luke got more boxed in to that hug for the angel to meep in surprise. The dragon scales along Retha's entire body catching the light when she shifted to half turn away from Asmodeus and shiver from head to talon feet. While that long scaled tail soon curled around herself to twitch slightly. Asmodeus gave a huff to then frown at Retha with a pout. "What well reasoned out excuses. I bet you caught what our precious pact human got yesterday while outside at Beelzebub's sports game. That precious sheeple as you call them ended up getting a lecture from Barbatos and Lord Diavolo about pushing themselves. Just admit that you were too anxious to ask us for more help than we've already given."

Luke gave a sad sigh to reach up and give Retha face nuzzles. The little angel snuggling the shaking Retha to sound very understanding as Retha gave a sniffle of noise. "Oh Retha. Did you think you were being a burden on us? You aren't a burden at all. We love you and want to help you whenever you need it. I know it's super hard for you to have your life so drastically changed. But we're here to give you what you need. Because we're friends." Retha gave a hoarse sigh to nuzzle Luke back and let the tears fall. "Yes. We're the best of friends. Basically family at this point. You are a gem, Luke. Asmo. Love always."

Asmodeus got his smile back to then turn when someone knocked on the door. So Asmodeus walked over to open it. Looking quite happy to see that it was Lucifer pushing a food cart. Various stews and baked breads on offering as well as a variety of sandwiches to choose from. So Lucifer gave that smug smile to push the cart into the room. "I was informed by a raven that we were in need of something filling. So Satan and Simeon helped put this together. Barbatos will arrive shortly with Solomon to do a physical on our very stubborn dragon hybrid. While Levi and Beel are fetching your schoolwork for us to do later." Asmodeus gave Lucifer a hug and several kisses to the cheek as Luke beamed happily at the food cart. Asmodeus giving coos of delight. "Oh just look at how suave my brother is. My heart might just stop at any moment. I love you, Lucifer."

Lucifer gave a patient sigh to tolerate the affection as Retha gave a huff of air. With Luke asking, "Are Solomon and Barbatos qualified to be doctors? Or are they bringing a doctor with them?" Retha has a thought to cover Luke's ears and glare at Asmodeus before the perky demon can say anything. "You dare suggest we all play 'Doctor' right now and I will stomp on you..." With Lucifer looking to be of the same mind as he smirks at Asmo's open disappointment. While Luke looks around to ask, "What? Why'd you cover my ears? What gives?"

#Obey Me! fanfiction #Obey Me!#obey me! fanfic #obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me shall we date #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction drabble

2 notes · View notes

paperstorm · 1 year

Text

Tagged by @beautifulhigh thanks love <3

Rules: Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

80% of these are Missing Moments because that's all I've been writing lately haha but I am working on something else.

No feeling in the firelight

The plume of smoke lessens, as they stand on wet pavement with blankets draped over their shoulders and watch the 129 douse the smoldering wreckage of what was their home. Walls crumble, the ceiling collapses, everything turns black and wet and the acrid scent of it becomes so overwhelming that TK almost can’t smell it anymore.

Ritual

TK holds up the bottle of Windex as he moves toward the kitchen, when Carlos’s eyebrows raise expectantly at him. He puts the bottle under the sink, slightly making a show of it even though that particular bottle actually belongs upstairs in the bathroom, because he wants Carlos to be assured he was cleaning like he was instructed while Carlos was down here panicking that he’d put a single grain of salt too many into the sauce that he’s already remade a second time.

Lost and found

“You can’t all stay,” the empathetic but tired-sounding nurse tells them. “I can send down for one cot. One.” She’s holding a folded sheet in her hand. Her hair is auburn. It’s pulled back into a ponytail but there are wayward pieces of it framing her face, as if they’d migrated away during a long shift. TK gets stuck for a moment on the details, the voices in the room fading into the background like he’s listening to them from underwater.

Music made in love

“Wanna fuck me?” Carlos jumps. He hadn’t heard TK coming, and the sudden appearance of his voice has Carlos’s heart leaping into his throat.

A decade in a moment

TK’s first day back at work after medical leave is on a Thursday. Carlos has the day off, so he gets up early to make TK breakfast and drive him to the 126. TK lingers in the car, his head tipped back against the headrest, eyeing the door through the windshield with a disappointed look on his expressive face. Carlos frowns, reaching over to squeeze TK’s shoulder in question.

A light in the dark

Carlos sits for a long time in his car in the parking lot. He stares at the concrete wall in front of him, the flat grey of it blurring in his vision and the perfect blank canvas upon which to project everything that’s swimming frantically in his mind. He blinks, and a tear slides down his cheek. It’s only one, and it maybe is the result of him accidentally keeping his eyes open for longer than he should have as he stewed in misery, but Carlos despises it anyway.

Knots to pull apart

Carlos stands and begins to clear their plates. He’d made a stir fry with chicken and water chestnuts, one of TK’s favorites of his many made-up recipes, but TK had been uncharacteristically quiet over dinner. Carlos is sure he knows why, so he’s been avoiding bringing it up, because TK will come to him when he’s ready. He always does.

Under the surface

Nancy has her arms crossed and looks highly annoyed, as they watch Tommy jog into the Dojang, and TK can’t understand why. He did something good for their captain, something nice. She was upset about having to miss her daughter’s ceremony and TK fixed that. Nancy’s irritation doesn’t make any sense and it’s making all sorts of alarm bells go off in his head.

Back to the remedy

“Can you please say something?” TK blinks slowly. The room around him seems to dissolve, the edges of his vision blurring until he can’t see the things that are in front of him clearly – the couch, the lamp, his manically grinning parents. Smiling at him eagerly, expectantly, like they think he should leap up and start cheering like he might have if this conversation had happened 20 years ago.

Side A, Side B

TK’s thumb hovers over the little arrow that would send the text he’s typed. It’s all still relatively new, this thing. The thing with Carlos in general, but also this. Cautiously approached and carefully negotiated because Carlos didn’t like it the first time they’d tried, and TK hated that look on his face like he thought he’d done something wrong.

tagging @theghostofashton @chaotictarlos @carlos-in-glasses @welcometololaland

#paperstorm writes #tag game #lola's probably already done this but just in case

19 notes · View notes

jonphaedrus · 2 years

Text

lamb stew recipe attempt to be recreated

im gonna do my best. mostly because i didnt write it down as i went and invented the entire thing as i was doing it and also every single ingredient in my grandmother’s house is expired and i had to substitute a Lot. here’s some variation on the lamb stew i made last year. this should be done in three stages. stage the first: prep, ideally the night before you cook, but if not do it in the morning at least 3-6hrs ahead of cooking. stage the second: bone broth. start this at least 5 hours before you intend to serve the food. stage the third: final soup assembly.

total time: i think it took me 10 hours. fuck if i know.

(beetroot voice) ingredience:

two lamb shoulders

six cherry tomatoes

pasta(?) (amount, pick whatever)

barley (amount, pick whatever)

two carrots (medallions, thin-cut)

one and a half sticks of celery (peeled and chopped)

a bunch of mushrooms. everyone there liked mushrooms so i think i put in like six brown baby bella mushrooms.

like however much garlic you feel like putting in. i think i put in half an entire head. roast it first, in olive oil and in tinfoil

ideally, if you have it, soy sauce. i didn’t. worchestireshire sauce works in a pinch.

salt, pepper, and whatever the hell else you want. i think i had mrs.dash’s. season to taste. idfk.

3-6 hours before you start cooking:

lament the fact that your family is all hoarders but never of anything useful and you have no measuring tools including no water cup measurement, no non-expired spices, nothing umami except an almost-expired bottle of worchestershire sauce, and reconsider most of your life decisions

remember that you’re the only person in your entire family who can cook and your father once made “japanese whitefish” by braising it in melted butter and put it over white rice

reconsider and realize that there’s no helping them and resolve to eyeball all of it.

chop all the cherry tomatoes in half, salt them, cover in plastic wrap, put them in the fridge

do a salt, pepper, and minced garlic rub on the lamb with as much worchestershire sauce (or soy sauce) you’d want for dipping sushi in, and a little bit of brown sugar. “this lack of measurements is unhelpful” i know i’m sorry i didnt have a single measurement instrument. my grandmother has none. i was eyeballing it. cover all of them in plastic wrap, leave them in the fridge for at least two hours, then flip them over so the other side gets the marinade.

cooking (4+hrs before serving):

keeping the head of garlic whole, peel the outer shell off and chop the tips off of each piece. wiped the open tips down with olive oil, roast in the oven for 30min at 400f/200c for 45min to an hour.

take the lamb shoulders out and chop out all the bones. chop the remaining meat up into stew-size chunks and throw them in with the tomatoes in the pot. sear them on high heat until it smells good. put them back in the marinade and back in the fridge.

take the cherry tomatoes and put them on the bottom of your stew pot (without washing it, never at any point wash it from hereon in) with olive oil and blister them on low heat until they’re charred, bubbly, and smell great. leave everything in the pot.

while the tomatoes are blistering, wash and medallion two carrots and the celery. put them aside. at this point (or soon thereafter) the garlic should be roasted.

once the garlic is roasted, take your pot with its lamb/blistered tomato sear and add to it about a quarter/euro coin sized amount of worchestershire sauce, the lamb shoulder bones, the carrots, the mushrooms, and the celery. add half of the head of roasted garlic. if you’re lucky and have spices, add a little bit of oregano. i had one bay leaf so i added that. put in at least 6 cups/1.5l of water put on the lid and leave the whole thing to reduce at low heat for at minimum three hours. add water regularly whenever it gets too low.

two hours before you intend to serve the soup: add the chopped up lamb from the fridge and its marinade juice. reduce the heat to very low.

half an hour before you intend to serve the soup: add the barley and the pasta. if it’s getting too thick add a little more water. add salt/spices to taste.

turn off the heat. before serving heat back up a little bit. use the rest of the head of garlic to mash up and make a 2:1 ratio of garlic to butter spread for the loaf of bread your father helpfully “bought” to “add to dinner”

#recipes #yeah. it was like that.

39 notes · View notes

sourbat · 2 years

Text

In Sickness

Two hammertooth snippets, one for Magnus and one for Toki. What goes on when the other is sick.

Rating: T

Magnus Even with an improvement to his diet, regular exercise and an unbelievable health plan supported and maintained by Dethklok Incorporated, sickness still proved a semi-regular thing with Magnus. It didn’t hit as hard as it used to, back when they were still figuring things out between them, but it was always enough to render him near immobile, and Toki at his most attentive. He summoned his mother’s old recipes and made hearty stews and strong, but bitter teas and medicinal properties, and making sure only to substitute what absolutely couldn’t be found so easily at the stores.

“What’s that smell?”

Magnus sounded grouchy. He normally was when he was sick, and pushed and verbally fought to keep Toki at bay. Complained it was an issue of contagions. He also complained about the migraines, the snot and inability to properly swallow. He complained about a lot of things.

With a smile, Toki crept into the bedroom. In his hands was a small bowl of eucalyptus and mint. “Balm,” he answered, and combated Magnus’ thin, grim line of a scowl with a raised, albeit cheeky, grin. It will opens your chest up and makes breathing easier.”

Magnus apparently didn't find the answer suitable enough, and groaned before returning to his makeshift blanket cave.

Toki knelt over the bed. With a free hand, he raised a blanket just high enough for him to make out Magnus dressed in the same sweatshirt he had donned the past few days and nothing else. He was coiled miserably, embracing his thin body and expelling audible, strained wheezes.

Magnus frowned at him. “That shit looks gross, Toke.”

Toki found this latest complaint weirdly cute. He thought Magnus, stricken ill and completely dependent on him, was unusually preferable. Was it bad? Toki himself wasn't too sure, and although a small part of him desired to ask Magnus about the issue, he determined it better to keep his mouth shut and enjoy the ticklish sensation that erupted from within each time Magnus beckoned him for water, for help getting to the restroom, or just for him to be bear so they could chat.

“It isn’t that bads.” Toki gave the bowl a playful wave before he was suddenly hit with the intense scent of freshly mashed herbs and greens. He wrinkled his nose, fighting off the strong scent. From below, Magnus raised a doubtful brow. “Ok, so it smells strongs,” Toki promptly corrected, and after a heartfelt chuckle, added, “But, it works real goods!”

Magnus retreated further into the blankets. “I really don't want that on me.”

It was always hard not to laugh. Toki didn't think there was anything overtly funny about being sick, but Magnus so riled over a simple rub couldn't help but muster another snicker. Magnus, despite his rules and insistence to rest and be left alone, wasn’t too different from a fickle, stubborn child afraid to take his medicine. Toki recalled some distant, far off instances where he tried to flee his mother’s caring hand because he didn't like the taste of bitter roots and spices.

Still smiling, Toki sat beside Magnus. He combed his fingers through his knotted curls and said, “Just does the old saying? Clothes your eyes and thinks of Ireland?”

“Ugh.” He watched Magnus attempt to roll his eyes, only to wince midway and shut them tight. He groaned. “My head is killing me.”

Toki lowered and carefully pecked his lips against Magnus’ forehead. “I knows,” he said gently, so as to not worsen the pain. “Come on. Takes off your sweatshirt.”

It took a few minutes to get Magnus into a sitting position, another minute of him grumbling getting the sweatshirt off. He made faces as Toki grabbed a liberal glob of chest balm, and bit down a swear when the cool medicine spread across his back. He was hot to the touch. The next few days would be touch-and-go. As much as Toki wanted to bring in the board games, movies and music, he knew Magnus was better off resting. If he did, he’d wake up on dafy three, maybe four, and would be back to his usual self. Not as grumpy or dependent, but in a better mood and willing to go out and have fun.

Toki mused on the thought. It would be nice to go skating again.

“Think you can find it in your heart to grab me a drink?”

The question came from below. Toki paused, dipping his middle and forefinger into the bowl and then stared at Magnus’ slowly expanding back. It was a pointless question and Magnus knew it. Given their shared health concerns and addictive personalities, alcohol was a rare treat, and Toki didn’t think it was a good idea to give Magnus a can of beer or shot of whiskey when he was supposed to stay hydrated. What good would drinking do? Magnus could barely breathe; booze would only make things worse.

Just then, Magnus straightened himself, though only momentarily. Toki watched the curvature of his spin correct itself, and long wavy locks draped down his freshly rubbed back. Some stuck to his skin, and right as Toki reached to brush some away, Magnus slowly threw his head back. A set of eyes and a leaky nose were pointed at him. A slightly chapped pair of lips patiently waited for a response.

And Magnus was frowning again. This time, a pitiful expression begging for a reprieve. And who could blame him? It sucked to be sick. To feel weak. But alcohol this early in the day, and while he was still so congested? More hair fell as Magnus leaned his sluggish being against Toki. Oh, but could he say no to that face? The frown shifted into a slight pout, and the little creased that littered his forehead deepened. Despite his height and frame, at that moment he appeared so small, so helpless.

And then he sniffled. That wet, noisy inhale Toki broke.

“Hmm.” Toki pressed a clean finger against his chin as more of Magnus’ weight sank on top of him. Toki faced two mismatched pupils and replied gently, “Thinks you can flips over and let me rub your chest first?”

Toki

Unlike Magnus who appreciated the rest and tender loving affection that came along with being ill, Toki preferred to maintain some semblance of normalcy, rejecting the bed and humidifier in favor of dragging his sorry self behind Magnus and insisting he was fine and could help with cooking, cleaning and other daily activities. If it wasn’t something as trivial as absolutely needing to vacuum, it was Toki begging Magnus to play some random video game while he watched or, if things were really bad, Toki selecting some film title Magnus brought up in past conversation in the hopes it would convince him to allow Toki out of the bedroom for a few more hours. These small acts of defiance were at least understandable. Toki thrived on attention, distractions and stimulation, no matter how small. More importantly, Toki didn’t want to be alone. Despite the obvious complaints and concerns, Magnus did his best to keep to the living room, setting aside certain responsibilities so Toki could remain close.

After a few mindless stirs, Magnus turned off the stove and poured a small bowl of canned chicken soup. Nothing fancy, certainly not compared to the stuff Toki concocted when he was bedridden, but it was more than enough to put a smile on Toki’s face. Still, Magnus fished through the cupboards and grabbed an unopened roll of crackers just in case, and as he passed the fridge also debated whether some fruits or chopped veggies would improve the meal. He returned to the disaster that was the living room where Toki lay, barely conscious. Magnus stepped over throw pillows that were tossed in favor of blankets and the softer, plush cushions that once occupied their bed. The screen illuminated massive subtitles that he was sure Toki stopped reading ages ago.

Toki was caught under a loose mound of blankets, resting on his stomach and embracing his worn stuffed bear. Though his eyes were open, they possessed a gloss that suggested he was long gone. Still, Magnus approached with his usual gait, letting his flip flops hit the hardwood flooring until he reached the crowded sofa.

He gave Toki a light nudge. “You still awake?”

Magnus watched Toki’s form squirm lazily under the blankets. With an elongated stretch, he released the mildest of yawns. Barely audible, were it not for the hoarse wetness that cracked out his sore throat.

Magnus took his seat before offering the soup. “Come. Eat.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem, bud.”

After a day of merely observing and offering the slightest remarks, Toki was exhausted. Whatever he had was doing its best to make him absolutely miserable. Magnus combed through long, greasy strands of chestnut brown hair as Toki crawled closer, his moist grip weakened and hardly registering with Magnus’s leg. With some help, Magnus had Toki resting on his lap, and with some coaxing he managed to convince his boyfriend to accept being spoon fed by him.

He heard Toki sniff after a rough swallow. “What’s happening?”

A small rise of the blankets pointed towards the screen. Magnus stared at the scene ahead, unsure himself what was currently happening.

“Hell if I know. I was making your lunch,” he muttered, then stirred the half-consumed bowl. He glanced at the subtitles. “Let’s see…”

Narration served to bore and tire Toki. Warm food to fill and push him closer to the darkness. And when that was done, Magnus’ combed through Toki’s hair. Gentle pets that ignored the collecting oil and off-putting body heat, and so purposely designed to break down whatever fortitude that remained and lull him into a slumber. Magnus split his attention between whatever was on screen, and Toki’s fluttering lids and labored, but steady breathing. Really, Magnus enjoyed the process. Were it not for the threat of catching the sickness and Toki’s complaints of being babied and coddled, he’d do it more often.

“What’s going on nows?” Toki’s scratchy voice asked after a few minutes of silence.

Magnus ceased his affection to catch Toki looking up at him. “We’ll, she’s realizing she can’t stay in the country anymore…”

He liked hearing his own voice, liked explaining plots and characters while Toki’s weight and warmth sank on top of him. He didn’t mind the sound of wet coughs, reaching and grabbing a box of tissues to help Toki catch whatever mucus was leaking from some orifice. Because it was nice when Toki had to rely on him. It was better to make more memories of that, and of himself mending and healing instead of lashing out and destroying whatever was in his wake. Even now, after all these years, Magnus looked forward to another instance of him doing good to one day substitute and remove (a man could dream, couldn't he) those awful hauntings that still overtook his consciousness on occasion. Those instances were increasingly rare, but when they hit–

A loud cough erupted, drowning out the french with a hoarse, scratchy sound that nearly caused Magnus to jump. He dropped his gaze to Toki below, the source of such awful retching and now jerking as he recoiled from the intense pain now collecting in his throat and head. Knowing this, Magnus quickly reached for a handful of tissues. Once Toki was finished he handed them over, looking away and not minding when he felt a warm wad of tissues being returned.

He waited a few more seconds before asking, “You ok?”

“My head hurts,” Toki answered with a sad whimper.

“Oh.” Magnus expelled a soft, sad little noise before lifting his hands away from Toki’s pulsing temples.

“Don’s stop.”

“Hmm?”

“Pettings.” Two pale blue eyes peered up at him. “Please.”

Smiling, Magnus replied, “I won’t,” and returned to stroking Toki’s crown, slowing when he reached the sides and applying gentle pressure to distract, re-navigate and ease. A few minutes later, Toki's breathing returned to a slow pace. Still noticeable, but the whines emitted soothed into something tolerable, and soon Magnus felt (and heard) Toki’s Deady bear slip from his grip. It fell to the floor, neglected and forgotten, but Magnus made no attempt to rescue it as Toki’s arms slowly rooted themselves to him.

His legs made the worst pillows. Magnus knew this, but when he dropped his stare to see Toki’s eyes flutter and start to sink, he could only bite down the pained smile that still managed to rise from ear to ear, and continued drawing out long, loving pets until he was confident Toki’s eyes would remain closed.

When they hit, it made moments like this all the more precious.

#magtok #hammertooth #magnus hammersmith #toki wartooth #unbeta'd #just two snippets #no story whatsoever #metalocalypse

23 notes · View notes