#gave us biscuit crumbs

[mercisnm]

previously on @wordsbyarwen: Greek myth AU, the mages are gods and use avatars to appear to their followers, Tissaia is the lord of the Underworld and god of the dead, her Hades avatar vs the form she was born into

bonus Rita as Aphrodite

#nobody mentioned borzoi cerberus anywhere its just my own idea. tissaia and eldritch horror horse dogs are a Thing to me #sometimes i draw things #...what do i even tag this new au #greek myth au #tissaia de vries #margarita laux-antille #yes yes i just need an excuse to draw dudessaia again whats about it #honestly even when i give him muscles he's still that mix between depressed botany professor and slutty twink #troiings #gave us biscuit crumbs #like if you have a work persona. reblog if your work persona differs so much from your real person you change your goddamn gender for it #also #gent!tissaia #i guess

[luveline]

Hello! I just want to start off by saying you're an absolutely amazing writer! I've been reading your blog for two years now, I believe, or something very close to it, and I still find myself awestruck by your talent when I check your blog, which is pretty much daily!

If you're up for the prompt and if you're not too swamped with requests, could I ask for a blurb with bombshell reader x Spencer? Maybe reader makes him something really sincere and handmade? Maybe a baked good or a knitted sweater? No special occasion needed, just because he deserves it 😋

Thank you for sharing your works with us! Be well and remember to take breaks! Love you Jade!!

Thank you my love, that is so kind! Love you♡

You feel sleek walking into the office that morning. Fitted clothes steamed and pressed, hair freshly upkept at the salon the previous weekend, nails manicured, smile primly painted, you look perfect. 

But that's not what you're excited about. 

Spencer lounges cross-legged at his desk, a book in his lap, surprisingly broad shoulders hunched as he reads at a more natural pace than usual. His desk is cluttered in organised chaos, books lining the partition that separate his desk from Derek's and Emily's, strange knickknacks scattered. There's a bunch of bright squishy things from Penelope, an upside down umbrella statue lined with hair elastics, and, cutest of all, his two photo frames. One of him holding baby Henry, and one of you. You and him, of course, but mostly you in the frame, closer, smiling like you love him as you angle the camera back in a well meaning and misaligned self portrait. 

You do love him. He hasn't caught on yet, is all. 

"Spencer," you greet, hoping he won't jump. He flinches minutely and lifts his head to yours, closing the book against his hand. "Sorry, I was trying to make it so you didn't jump." 

"My fault." He rubs his eyes. "Just been reading this book for so long it's messing with me." 

The book, of which he's told you about in detail, is about a documentary, which is in turn about a bunch of dark, ever-changing rooms, hallways and tunnels from within a house. The line between what's fiction within fiction blurs, and it's actually pretty scary if he's to be believed. "I've never seen you take so long reading one book, even if it is eight hundred pages," you say teasingly, letting the handle of your handbag slip down your shoulder. 

"The point is suspense," he says, eyes following your fingers where they dive into your bag. "Which needs time to build. What are they?" 

"These are for you, handsome." 

"You already gave me a present," he says quizzically. 

His birthday was a few days ago, and he's right. "These aren't for your birthday, Spence." 

He cracks the lid off of the tupperware on side at a time like he's scared he'll ruin the sweet treats within. You've made him fresh baked shortbread biscuits dipped in dark-chocolate and topped with sparse coconut shavings. 

"What are these?" he asks.

You both know that he knows they're cookies, so you answer the unasked question instead. "I wanted to make them for you. I think you'll like them, they're a little rich but the coconut helps even it out. You don't have to try them now or anything–" 

"Can I?" he asks, lips quirked into a gentle pout. 

"Sure." You hide your nerves as he bites into one, the cookie itself breaking softly, crumbs falling into his waiting hand. "They're messy. Should've warned you." 

He puts the uneaten half back in the tupperware and places it atop his closed book on the desk. He's nodding as he stands, arms quick over your shoulders. You can hear him swallow, his voice mildly hoarse as he says, "They're so nice," he praises, clearing his throat, "I think I swallowed too fast." His laugh warms your ear. "I can't believe you made those. How long did it take you?" 

"Not that long," you say, beaming as he pulls away. "I knew you'd like them." 

"It helps that you made them." He holds your elbow. "I don't know how to say thanks." 

You raise your cheek. "Only if you want." 

He kisses your cheek. You smile like a fool and giggle much the same, reaching around his arms to nab a cookie for yourself. They'd tasted nice last night when you tried them, but they're perfect after Spencer's praise. 

"No one's ever baked something for me before," he admits, the two of you standing much too close considering the setting. "I mean, there really wasn't a reason?" 

"No, Spence. I was watching some TV last night when I started thinking about you, and I recently got that cookbook, you remember? That was one of the dessert recipes. I had to make two batches because I put too much butter in the first try and they spread flat as a nickel." 

He smiles at your misfortune. "What?" you ask. "What's funny about that?" 

"It's not funny. You made me cookies and when they went wrong you made me more. I don't know what I–" His hand flirts with your elbow, index finger moving with a mind of its own, tickling you through your thin blouse. "You're amazing." 

"You make me really happy." You look down at his hand where it draws a line. "It makes me happy to be able to do something for you." 

Spencer can evidently see you turning shy, and he's a sweetheart, so he rescues you from your timidity with a life jacket. "Is there anything you can't do?"

"Not that I've found so far, handsome. Why, did you have something in mind?" 

He makes a big and genuine laugh, grabbing two cookies and forcing one into your hand. "You have to eat your share before Emily gets here." He nudges your hand up with his. "Go on. I'm not in the mood to share with anyone but you." 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[gainingfiction]

Lifetime Supply: Chapter 7

(read chapter 6 by gainerstories here)

Ryan awoke to find his gut smeared with frosting, cake crumbs littering his chest hair, and Antoine’s body wrapped around his. He reached for his phone and instinctively opened Instagram, frustrated to see that Luke still hadn’t replied to his DM. 

Are you someone I can talk to about getting my snack needs met? Ryan read over his message, wondering if he should have said something different. Two weeks had passed, and his message was just hanging there, crying out for attention. Sort of like Ryan’s big, fat belly.

Ryan slowly extricated himself from Antoine’s determined cuddling, careful not to wake his sleeping fuckbuddy. Once again, the sex wasn’t anything special, but Antoine was an enthusiastic lay, and very generous with the food. In fact, he had coaxed an entire supermarket sheet cake into Ryan’s hungry gut.

Of course, sex had become a pretty different experience from what Ryan was used to. Jason was an exclusive top, and as obnoxious as he could be, he knew what he was doing in bed. Antoine, on the other hand, was a strict bottom. An eager, sniff-poppers-and-cross-your-fingers kind of bottom. Ryan had topped guys before, but the extra pounds were more of a challenge—and a turn-on—than he had anticipated. For starters, he’d lost some length to his growing fat pad. And all the weight around his hips gave each thrust more power. But he couldn’t deny enjoying the feeling of his own buttocks jiggling as he railed slender Antoine.

It was hardly the sort of sex Ryan fantasized about, but it was still a good enough release. He was surprised by the sharp contrast between their bodies. Antoine had skinny hips but a nice ass, round and firm. As he went to work, Ryan couldn’t help but notice how much wider he was, and the way his gut bounced and slapped against Antoine’s toned back. By the time the two men came, Ryan was sweating bullets and practically winded from the exertion. After that, he leaned back and let Antoine hand-feed him the rest of the cake, a messy experience that was basically as enjoyable as the fucking itself.

Once he was on his feet, Ryan stepped over the bare plastic cake tray, picking up his clothes from Antoine’s messy bedroom floor. He pulled on his underwear, the meshy fabric stretched to near-transparency over his bulging rear-end. And then he started the process—and it really was a process—of getting into his pants. Heaving, tugging, pleading, swearing, panting, sucking, and finally, after what felt like an almost biblical struggle, closing the button just below his ballooning belly.

Ryan regretted wearing a button-down. He was still bloated from the night before, and even on an empty stomach, his patterned shirt was starting to collapse under the pressure of so much flesh. He shrugged it on, feeling it pull taut over his broad back. He sucked in as hard as he could, and it buttoned, but it was a desperate sight. It was a made-in-Cambodia fast fashion shirt, and the buttons looked to be at their absolute limit. One wrong move and that thing would pop open like a can of biscuit dough. I could go for some biscuits, Ryan thought, in spite of himself.

Once he was dressed—“decent” would be an overstatement—Ryan quietly eased open the bedroom door and slipped out. Antoine’s roommate looked at him with thinly-veiled disgust over his morning bowl of granola, but Ryan ignored him, slipping out the front door. He was in the mood for some breakfast of his own.

He loaded up on fast food to tide him over on his way home, before striding into his apartment with a spring in his step. He felt good—sexed up, well fed, and ready for the day. He was pleased to see Cory making what looked like a nice, big breakfast, and he made a point of asking him to make enough for three. Or four, really, since Ryan usually ate for two.

“Damn, Ry, you’re gonna eat all of that?” Ahmed asked, when he saw Ryan’s heaping portion of waffles, pancakes, sausages and bacon. “Maybe save some for the rest of us!”

“I’m a growing boy,” Ryan said, through a mouthful of waffle. That was becoming a bit of a catchphrase, at this point. “And I—urp—worked up quite an appetite last night.” He neglected to mention that that appetite had been more than satisfied by an entire sheet cake.

“Obviously,” Ahmed said, arching an eyebrow. “You’re gonna scare off this Antoine guy if you keep this up, though.”

Ryan shrugged, taking a large bite of sausage. He pawed at his belly, conscious of how far apart the buttons gaped, revealing thick slabs of hairy fat. “He’s got some pretty specific tastes. Good taste, clearly.”

Cory chuckled, “I guess Ryan’s big appetite has an admirer.”

Ryan got a kick out of that. Clearly Cory was catching on, even if Ahmed was still in the dark about Antoine’s “unique” preferences.

“Speaking of big appetites, another box arrived for you today,” Ahmed said. “This one’s even bigger than the last one. And it’s only been a week! I thought you told them to ease up?”

“Yeah, I told him to hit the brakes. And then I got hungry, so I told him to floor it. Bigger boxes, more often.”

Ahmed’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, are you serious? Damn, you’re gonna be a whale.”

Ryan felt a little stirring. He shifted in his seat, acutely aware of how much he was starting to like comments about his expanding size.

“Well, don’t expect any more help from me,” Ahmed added. “I really gotta cool it with this bulk.”

Ryan glanced at his roommate, noticing how tight his shirt looked—and not just around his now-prominent pecs and increasingly impressive biceps. He poked Ahmed’s little beer gut. “Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it. Besides, I don’t think Cory minds, am I right?” He looked at the slender guy across the breakfast table.

Cory blushed a little, glancing down at his own plate, which sported a single piece of toast. “I don’t mind,” he agreed.

After breakfast, Ryan tore into his Adesco box while he started on a freelance programming project. Coding was so much more enjoyable with food.

And Luke was making sure he had plenty to eat. The new boxes were twice the size of the old ones, and they arrived twice as often. Ryan felt like he was drowning in delicious, mass-produced snacks.

It wasn’t like he was trying to gain weight. He just liked food. And he was hungry all the damn time! When he and Jason had completely cut out refined sugar, he remembered Jason explaining that sugar was addictive. The more you eat, the more you crave. “And besides,” Jason had said, “Carbs aren’t filling. They’re just empty calories.” And so their relationship had been an endless parade of baked chicken breast, stir-fried tofu and other lean proteins.

Not anymore, though. Now that Ryan had started down that sugary road, paved with countless Adesco boxes, all of those restrictions and limitations were a thing of the past. He liked sugar. He liked refined carbs. He wanted more of them, all the time, as much as he could eat. And he could eat a lot.

Packing on the pounds was an inevitable side-effect. He didn’t sit down and do the math properly, but he guessed that if he was gaining almost two pounds a week with the old boxes, that number was bound to go up. But he didn’t care—clearly dreamy Luke enjoyed what he was doing to Ryan’s body, and if a guy like Luke wanted him bigger and fatter, Ryan was happy to oblige. Especially if all he had to do was sit around and eat his favourite foods from dawn until dusk.

He adapted to the new boxes quickly. At first, finishing so much food before the next box arrived was impossible. Then, it was a challenge. And after a couple of weeks, it was just a part of Ryan’s lifestyle.

Ahmed and Cory seemed stunned at how much Ryan was eating. Every waking moment he had food in his hands, and yet he still went in on whatever takeout order Ahmed was craving. And now that he had his degree, he didn’t need to go to campus anymore, which meant that his lifestyle was more sedentary than ever. He just sat on his ass, on his computer, eating and eating, gaining and gaining, month after month.

And tantalizing Luke with tales of his gluttony and growth. He was still bitter that Luke had never gotten back to his DM—so this guy would break up his relationship, but he was too high and mighty to stray from his own? But whenever Ryan’s phone lit up with that familiar 800 number, Ryan was happy to hop on and paint an increasingly lewd picture of just what Adesco was doing to him.

“Just checking in to confirm that you were satisfied with your most recent delivery,” Luke said, one day.

“Oh, man, was I ever, Luke,” Ryan said. He loved laying it on thick. He imagined Luke perched on his perfect ass in some drab little office, practically drooling into the handset of his office phone. “Those kettle chips? Mmh, better than sex.”

“Ah—um, that’s great. And you liked our new product, the hazelnut cream cakes?”

“Liked them? Luke, if you keep sending me those, I’m gonna need to reinforce my chair,” he said. “I swear, I’m like an eating machine when it comes to those boxes. You should see me going to town on those hazelnut things. Cream everywhere.”

A sharp intake of breath. “We’re so glad to hear that. And tell me about the fudge sandwich cookies, do you enjoy those?”

Ryan gave a little moan. He was glad these calls weren’t being recorded for training purposes. “Those are some of my favourites, man. Sometimes I’ll just crack open a package, and it’ll be empty in 20 minutes, flat. It’s not easy to fill this gut, you know?”

Another gasp. Ryan grinned. This kinky little fucker really did like mixing business and pleasure.

“I—that’s—sure. Right. And, uh, you’ve…” Ryan could sense Luke searching for words. “You’ve noticed your capacity has increased?”

Ryan’s grin widened, and he trailed a hand across his bountiful gut. It was firm from all the snacks he’d stuffed into it. “My capacity?”

Luke hesitated. “I mean, uh, you’re eating more? Of the snacks we send you?”

“Is that a question you normally ask?”

Luke cleared his throat. “Well, we haven’t done a prize giveaway like this since 1977. So this is uncharted territory for both of us.”

I bet it is, Ryan thought. “Yeah, my ‘capacity’ is crazy now. Before I used to have a bit of an appetite, but since I won this damn contest… I swear, Luke, I feel like I’ve eaten more this past year than I have in my whole life. And I don’t see that changing any time soon, not with the way my appetite is expanding.”

Ryan could hear Luke’s breathing through the phone. He imagined him ending the call and dashing off to the bathroom in a horny daze. “Well, we’re so glad you’re enjoying it. I’ll get a thank-you box sent to your address as soon as possible. Thank you. Good day.”

And then the call was disconnected. Ryan grinned, and reached for another bag of chips, acutely aware of the way his dick was throbbing against the underside of his belly.

#weight gain #male weight gain #gay #gaining fiction #gainer stories #realistic gain #belly #bhm #lifetime supply

[spooniechef]

No-Bake White Chocolate Raspberry Cheesecake (1 spoon)

It hasn't been a good few weeks in the Spoonie Kitchen, I have to say. Another two weeks of overtime, one of my relaxation days had to be completely scrubbed because of some major electrical work needing to be done on my flat, and the flat upstairs has got into the noisy parts of their renovations so I've been having to do most of my work-from-home job with banging and power tools drowning out my Spotify playlist, never mind the actual dictation I have to type up.

Still, when I did my grocery order for the month, I was insistent that I get a few ingredients for relatively easy treats, becuase the run-up to Christmas feels like a good time for that sort of thing and anyway, with this amount of spoon expenditure, I deserve nice things. So I pulled out my Quick and Easy Gluten-Free Cookbook (by Becky Excell, comes highly recommended) and looked up a few things that might brighten up my days a little. One of the ones that stood out to me was a gluten-free white chocolate and raspberry cheesecake. I mean, I'm still lactose-intolerant, but that's why we have Lactaid. It didn't sound too hard so I gave it a try. It's easy enough to deserve a place here. Now my only problem is having too much cheesecake, though I solved some of that by giving some to my stepfather.

Also this is largely going to be in metric, but that's what measurement conversion sites are for.

Here's what you'll need:

500g mascarpone

100g (around 3/4 cup) icing sugar

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

300ml (1 1/4 cup) heavy cream

250g white chocolate, melted and just cooled

275g fresh raspberries

For the base, you'll need:

320g gluten-free graham crackers (or digestive biscuits)

150g (2/3 cup) butter, melted

I actually have a couple of suggestions right off the bat here. If you're using digestive biscuits instead of graham crackers (which I had to because they don't have graham crackers at all over here, gluten-free or otherwise), you might want to add a little bit of sugar or honey to the butter when mixing with the crumbs, and maybe a tiny pinch of cinnamon. Digestive biscuits are a reasonable substitute but there's some flavour notes missing. Also, to make this dairy-free, just use dairy-free butter, cream, and white chocolate, and substitue dairy-free cream cheese for the mascarpone. It probably won't set quite as well, though.

Here's what you do:

Mash the graham crackers / digestives into crumbs, either putting them in a stand mixer or just putting them in a Zip-Loc bag and beat on them with a rolling pin for awhile.

Pour into a bowl and add the melted butter; stir until well-mixed

Spoon the mixture into an 20cm (8") loose-bottomed or springform pan, compacting it into an even layer at the bottom, before putting it in the fridge to chill

While the base is chilling, add the mascarpone, sugar, and vanilla extract into a bowl and mix until reasonably combined (10-20 seconds with a stand mixer or electric hand whisk on low/medium speed)

Add the cream and blend on medium speed for 1-2 minutes, or until it starts to firm up

Add the chocolate, mix until combined and you have a thick, spoonable mixture (only mix briefly - overmixing will make things start to separate out)

Gently fold the raspberries into the mixture until evenly dispersed

Spoon the mixture into an even layer onto the chilled base; let chill in the fridge for at least 5 hours, preferably overnight

FEAST

The electric hand whisk or stand mixer does most of the work on this one; everything else is all about the spooning and smoothing, so it's pretty ideal for someone whose tolerance for mixing things by hand is pretty low. The results are good, and obviously substitutions can be made for different flavours. I'm already pondering a couple of teaspoons each of cocoa powder and espresso powder sifted into the icing sugar and leaving out the raspberries for a mocha cheesecake. You also probably don't have to use fresh raspberries, but their tartness is a nice contrast to the sweet creaminess of the cheesecake. I'm going to test that theory by defrosting some of the frozen mango I have for smoothies and trying for a mango cheesecake. Basically so long as you have an obscene amount of mascarpone cheese, cream, and enough icing sugar to make it set, you can do whatever you want with this one.

Of course, these do take well to freezing, so you could also probably halve the recipe, use ramekins instead of a springform tin, and have single-serving cheesecakes, taking them out of the freezer to defrost when desired. A good notion for those who like the occasional sweet but can't get through an entire cheesecake by themselves.

Oh, hey, I nearly forgot. I actually took pictures of the results this time! So here you go - No-Bake Gluten-Free White Chocolate Raspberry Cheesecake!

#the spoonie chef #recipes #gluten-free #baking #sweets

[abybweisse]

Three items rp ask /

Claudia sighs in front of the Undertaker's desk

"Okay, I run out of jokes, but I really need that information. What do you need from me? I have only..." she looked through secret pockets in her dress "A cookie stolen from the kitchen behind Tanaka's back, a new comb and a thin knife I use for opening letters and criminal throats. Say something, I'm going to do anything. Maybe you need a braid? I'm a very good in braiding hair." she joked.

Well, she was a little desperated. The Queen demanded results and the Countess felt like a dog chasing it's own tail.

Undertaker momentarily laughed but not enough for it to count as payment for such important information. He agreed to the braid, though he didn't think this would provide enough mirth, either.

Claudia picked up the comb but then thought better and set it back down. While Undertaker watched with keen interest, Claudia took up the knife and meticulously cut little slots out, about a third the width, from the stolen biscuit. After a few minutes, she'd turned the biscuit into a crude sort of comb.

"I'm going to comb your hair with this, before braiding."

"Wha-- heh heh... okayyyy...."

She tried to brush his hair with the fragile makeshift comb, but it fell apart, leaving crumbs all over the right side of his hair and face. Undertaker lifted a hand to wipe away crumbs, but she stopped him.

"Leave it."

"Now wait just a moment, Lady Phantomhive--" but he stopped trying to clear away the mess. And started to giggle as Claudia began braiding his hair.

"The braid has trapped the crumbs!"

"Yes, and you giggled. Where's the information I came for?"

"It's still not enough", as he slowly eyed her up and down. "What else have you got hidden away under there... under all those layers?"

Claudia took in a quick breath but said nothing just yet. Her shocked expression gradually gave way to a wry smile, as she reached for a button on her traveling coat.

Then she said "I thought you'd never ask," and it was Undertaker's turn to look surprised.

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #undertaker #cloudia phantomhive #claudia phantomhive #making undertaker laugh #blxxdingstars #i answered a thing #answered asks #scenarios #fanfic #sep 13 2023 #sorry for the delay

[the-sycophant]

The Glaring Guest

The sliver of an open window was the only reprieve from a myriad of conflicting scents that clouded the entirety of the office. It was nearly suffocating, her head thrumming nice and slow to the pace set by her heart. It was a familiar array, disgustingly so, but the interesting view outside stifled that which was tearing through what meager patience she had.

Coffee, earthy and dark, accompanied the biscuits that were decorated gingerly with bright red fruits and colourful sugars. Cheeses of various acridity and region, crusty breads with herbed butters and sweet jams. Meat. Meat as greasy as the fingers that picked at the plates and just as thick as them too. Those fingers also held a pungent cigar, pinched between raw, bruised knuckles as the owner ashed it amidst the sampling of delicacies.

"The forests along the mountainside have been untouched for decades. Heretics still linger, as they do. Vermin, the lot of them. Even after our many attempts to quash their brood entirely...gods knows our men are spread thin these days. Who knows what sort of void nonsense could still be lurking—"

Mr. Barbinoux had been dealing with someone for weeks  — some investor or entrepreneur or other — attempting to entice them with a business proposal and that some sort of occultist treasure horde lay deep within the mountainside. This bit she had heard several times over, but she let him speak even as her attention waned.

How gracious of her.

"Marlowe, my dear? What say you to that?"

A huff, delicate manicured fingers twisting at the satin ribbon tied at her breast as her neck craned away from the study of the unfamiliar airship with its unfamiliar workers. "What? Like some common mercenary?" It held little bite, iced blue eyes now too focused on the glistening river of oil and crumbs running down the highlander's chin and throat. Staining his collar, his skin. "And for some...filthy apostate, no less." 

She nudged herself off the frame, feet silent on the warm fur of the hide rug as she swayed toward him, playful. "You've sent so many men into those woods," a sweet coo as she sat herself on one tree-trunk sized thigh, pressing the corner of the unused silk napkin to the corner of his too used mouth. "And I know I have a weakness for the needy, a mighty weakness," Marlowe's attention turned to his clothes, tapping a finger against one leather shank button of the man's vest, making circles as it strained desperately against the wool, "but are my skills not inadequate for how pathetic it all seems? Surely whatever it is your new friend is searching for needs a true professional?" She gave the stubbly line of his jaw a soft little kiss, an equally soft little tongue flicking out against his skin, "Sukhtau, perhaps?" Particularly indulgent with his flesh, that tongue moved down his throat, languidly lapping at the mess he made for himself.

"Qestir?" A snort. "Now now, Marlowe my dear," Mr. Barbinoux mumbled between the wet smacking of his lips, suckling noisily at the rings on his fingers to catch any remnants of flavour left from his meal. His chin tilted up as one thick arm came 'round her waist, only tugging her back when he felt teeth. "My sweet flower, you know I wish to please the family, help unburden you with that nasty debt of yours," and as he continued on as she listened her very best, she did, trying not to get too distracted with his attention as he kneaded into her side. Soiling her dress while he was at it too, the pretty thing that it was - ivory cotton full of layered lace trim and light as a feather, scandalous in how fine the threading was, only just hiding her barely there figure.

Fucking prick. She liked this dress.

She adjusted his necktie needlessly as he explained how much good the venture would do, how simple it would be to complete, how much it would please him and that she would get a new bauble. Those grimy fingers ruffled amidst the fabric, trying to find purchase on skin, callouses catching against ribboned stockings and the strap of a garter. It was ignored, his explanation and insistent groping, and she remained unhelpful to his advances and attempts in cajoling her.

Marlowe turned away from his touch to her cheek, denying them both. "Take me to Ishgard, then." A simple counter offer she knew he would easily accept, more so that she knew he had a trip on the books some weeks ahead. It mattered little to him as to why she wanted to go, she was sure. He only cared in that she did what he wanted in the end. She was the same.

"Excellent! Excellent. They will be most pleased, I can assure you. Now then, what is it our new friends desire?"

Content with sitting on his lap and feeding him in-between his chatter, she popped a piece of fruit into his mouth. He let her. "Gold."

"Surely not?"

A hum of approval, deep and delighted, nearly a purr. "Of course not, you smart man. No, they wished very much for someone to believe it was gold, so strongly in fact that their wants to be believed overshadowed everything else. I would not at all be surprised if one felt me fishing around inside their heads," she nearly sang in melodic amusement, intrigued with the idea despite the threat of it. "I find it very odd the amount of people coming in here wanting the exact same thing, don't you?" 

But it was her turn to be ignored now, instead for favour of additional treats. Was she not good enough? Did she not dote on him as he wished? The docile part she played faltered, the concernment of his disregard stacking upon her foul mood from being awake so far into the day. Her pretty face twisted into something less so, the speed in which she gripped those nails into his chin making him sputter various bits of food at her cheek. He gave a hiss of displeasure when she squeezed. "Don't you?" She hissed back through teeth clickity click clicking together in a brief animalistic chitter.  "Someone knows something." Marlowe insisted nastily as she picked out a biscuit with her free hand before offering it to him, pinching at his jaw until it opened. "Imagine if they instead wanted to slip in the middle of the night to slit your throat. This group you are meddling with—"

He batted away at her hand after a bite, and she obliged sourly as he wiped his cheek, then hers. "I doubt it," a grunt as she moved to straddle his lap, knees barely able to squeeze around either side of his hips as her slender arms circled about his neck. He chewed, swallowed. "But you'd be all the more happy for it, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, Hugo, you know I'd miss you terribly. All the good parts of you, at least." She pressed her breasts to his, agreeable now that his attention was where it should be. "And so many good parts you have! Practically a saint! Gods, what would we ever do without you?"

"Enough of that, and stop this Hugo nonsense." His disgust was exceptionally pleasing, her grin triumphant and annoyingly smug, but she said nothing further. "You will attend to the group going into the mountainside—"

She nodded with sweet 'yes sir's just the way he liked, allowing his explanation but not retaining it. The logistics of this little adventure could be left to someone else, and she'd just play stupid later to get out of being burdened with directing a group of some hired thugs. Gods forbid she do a smidge of work.

They'd figure it all out.

"And take our guest out with you. You may have the day with him."

Her attention finally turned to the strongest scent in the room, a wheezing and bleeding thing curled up on the floorboards. It was Mr. Barbinoux's own hands that had done the deed this time, and what a pitiful display of power and status it was too. She wasn't quite sure who he was trying to impress with the way he had his other lackeys hold their guest down whilst he did it, taking three of them to contain the now brutalized man on the floor. Vile. Weak.

But oh! How she ached just to press her lips to this battered man and taste his suffering, lick his wounds all better and make him feel so good for feeling so bad. The way he looked at her when she stepped beside him was so intoxicatingly livid, so full of defiant fury that she felt her heart and loyalty flutter. She wanted him to succeed in whatever it was he was sneaking around for, for whatever game he was playing. How exciting. "The entire day! Oh, you do love me don't you?" she chirped pleasantly, pressing her foot against the man's cheek, stockings soaking up blood as she turned his face with painted toes. He didn't even give her a grunt. Then again, he didn't cry out either when taking his beating.

Her head canted. He was a handsome thing, wasn't he? Even with his face all swollen and bruised - perhaps more so. She'd be punished severely for taking a taste of him, but she could imagine how his boiling blood would accompany the ache sizzling her insides. She couldn't be punished for that, could she? A girl was allowed to daydream and want. And she wanted.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," just as sweet a coo for him now, eager to see how this would all play out as she smiled down at him in adoration. "I'll take good care of you. Now let's go get you all nice and pretty!"

#stories | seditious spiritual saucy #why is this so long #who did this #what is grammar #me x run ons are the real otp #barbinoux

[gaintsnowflake]

𝐒𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐘? [ magic AU ]

PAIRING - Lucy Carlyle x Fem!Reader

ONESHOT - in which lucy goes to lockwood for helping geting your hand in marriage

SONG - So You Wanna Marry Daisy by Spence Hood

TRIGGERS - inferred death, stealing

A/N - y/n does not appear and is only talked about !! please mind any typos or grammar mistakes, it is proof-read only by me so I won’t be able to catch everything

WORD COUNT - 1.2k

masterlist

LUCY walked into the small house, a wooden sign was on the fence in front of the house, "A.J. Lockwood's magical needs." It didn't take long for the door to open after she put three light knocks on the door. A tall boy with black hair greeted her, he was dressed in a suit with an extremely long coat. He gave her a crooked grin as he set aside to let her inside.

The house was small but cosy, not something you would expect from someone who is in the magical black market so to say.

Lucy was here to ask for the help of Mr Anthony Lockwood, who was well-known in the black market for magical help. She needed help trying to marry a girl that inchanted her, they had only ever met once when the girl was out for coffee, and she got lost and asked Lucy for help. This girl was more than famous, she was y/n l/n. She came from a very powerful magical family, one that most likely shouldn't be messed with.

"So how can I help you," Lockwood grinned once again at the girl as he led her into a living room. His lengthy body moved very theatrically. "Miss?"

"Lucy, Lucy Carlyle," Lucy sat on a rather comfy couch.

"Great to meet you, Lucy, now how can I help," Lockwood asked standing across from her, with the quick movement of his hands he was now holding a skull in a jar, "possible a skull of a tortured soul?"

With that the skull began spilling insults at the two, Lockwood quickly vanished at Lucy's shocked look. "You are better off without him. How about the stolen ring of Annabelle Ward?" The ring of a famous actress appeared in his hand, moving through his fingers effortlessly. "or perhaps maybe you want to marry someone yourself."

"I- How did you?" Lucy stuttered for words as Annabelle Ward's ring once again disappeared.

"George, could you bring us some tea?" Lockwood called, and only a second later a shorter boy with dark curly hair appeared with a tray. He went and sat in a chair next to Lockwood as he snapped his fingers the spoon in the tea started to spin as it changed a different colour adjusting to Lucy's liking.

"So Lucy, who would you like to marry?" Lockwood grabbed a biscuit as he sat back, assuming this would be an easy job.

"y/n, y/n l/n."

With that Lockwood began to cough, as Georges's face became very tense. They looked at each other before Lockwood stood. He put his hands down on the table, leaning forward to Lucy.

"So you wanna marry y/n," He hummed, looking her in the eyes. "Yeah well, good luck with that."

Lockwood stood before moving his hand as if spinning a hat, just then Lucy watched as a top hat did appear on his head.

"You have about as much of a chance as licking the brim of my hat," with another spin that hat was once again gone.

"And why is that?" Lucy asked, although she was sure she knew, given y/n's family history.

"Cause she's a purebred," George exclaims from his seat, judging Lucy for her lack of knowledge, "Her forehead's worth as much as your car. So let's just say a little bouquet won't get you very far."

"Slow down there slick," Lockwood spoke to George, with a playful tone, before sitting back down to look at Lucy. He crossed his legs and grinned. "You see my sleeves are full of tricks. Just say the word and I'll have you birds kissing at the Ritz."

"What's your price?" Lucy asked, attempting to seem unamused by his theatrics. At this Lockwood moved again, sitting up, he moved his legs to be placed fully on the ground as he rested his elbows on his wrists.

"My price? It's nothing, it's cookie crumbs..." Lockwood kept his grin.

"It's more of a steal if you ask me," George commented looking between the two.

"What about conditions? What are your conditions?" Lucy questioned again.

"In terms of conditions my friend, I've only got three."

Lockwoods smirk grew as he flicked his wrist, three playing cards appearing in his hand. He turned his hand again, making the cards condense, he slid it on the table in front of Lucy.

"Rule one, congratulations, love, you've been promoted to private eye," Lucy grabbed the card off the table as it turned into a paper in her hands. The paper was a contract to work for Lockwood. "I want a page a week on every word she speaks," Lucy goes to question him before he cuts her off knowing what she will say. "And darling, don't ask why."

Lucy looked at the contract before looking towards lockwood again, "The other two?"

Lockwood ran his hand over the table this time as a playing card appeared like before. This time he flipped it over to reveal a hologram that showed active footage of the l/n house.

"Rule two, you see that window, right about mademoiselle boudoir," Lucy nodded as he pointed to a window. "Won't you be a doll and unlock it? I gotta make a quick withdrawal and small deposit."

George only laughed at Lockwood's comment, only making Lucy question what he was talking about. With that Lockwood flipped the card back over before placing another on the table. Lockwood leaned closer with this one.

"Last but not least, listen up close kid, 'cause this one's for your own good. If that girl ever twirls her hair and leans in close to say," Lockwood stopped as he pressed down on the card only to hear an audio of y/n talking to someone.

"Meet me under the magnolia tonight, if you wanna get a little crazy..."

"You turn and run for the hills," Lockwood commented as the audio stopped.

"Straight and fast." George leaned back before grabbing a newspaper off of a nightstand next to the couch and opening it to read.

"Cause that's crazy y/n's way of saying you'll end up on the wrong side of the grass." Lockwood paused shuttering at the thought, before looking back to Lucy. "So still wanna marry y/n?"

Lucy thought for a second, looking at the two cards that lay on the table and the paperwork now in her hand. She quickly put it down, making George believe that she was going to say no. But just as George was going to tell Lockwood "Told you so" Lucy grabbed a pen and signed her name at the bottom of the contract.

"Yes," Lucy said, leaning back after she signed.

"Well, that death with don't come free," George sighed, closing his newspaper to grab the now signed papers.

"But a wicked dream needs a wicked schemer," Lockwood smiled at Lucy. "So thank heavens you met me."

"She's got a two-ply, cream pie, uni-degree, on stealing from suckers like you," George whispered to himself as he looked over the papers.

"Great to have you on the team, how about we get started on the plan," Lockwood smiled as George only walked away from the two, unfazed by their plan that was most likely going to end in y/n stealing  Lucy's life just like the last few of Lockwoods "amazing" plans led to.

George wasn't unfamiliar with this, many people asked for their help to get their girl's hand in marriage, just none of them made it out alive. Cause as George would say y/n has a she's got a two-ply, cream pie, uni-degree, on feasting from suckers, on suckers like LUCY.

#lucy carlyle #lucy carlyle x reader #lucy oneshot #lockwood and co #lockwood and co fanfiction #fanfic

[babyminty]

Cg Barbatos/Little Lucifer

Diavolo was currently away on business, so Lucifer had taken over the work that Diavolo had left behind, as well as continuing to do his own. What didn't help Lucifer's situation at all was the fact that his brothers had decided that most of their work wasn't important enough to do whilst the ruler of the Devildom wasn't present, so Lucifer had made it his duty to get all their work finished himself as well.

All the stress of having to do all this work was starting to weigh down on Lucifer, paired with the fact that he hadn't regressed at all recently, was starting to make Lucifer feel small. Luckily, or unluckily, if you asked Lucifer, Barbatos noticed.

There was a light knock on the door. "Come in." Lucifer called. The door opened, and Barbatos stepped into the office. "Barbatos? Why are you here? Is there anything you need?" Lucifer asked. "No, I'm fine, thanks. I just came to see if you needed help with some of the work." Barbatos answered. "I don't need help, thanks. I've got it under control." Lucifer replied.

Judging by the heaps of papers covering the desk and floor, he did not, but Barbatos thought it was best not to push the matter. "If you say so." He said instead. "Is there anything else you came here for?" Lucifer asked him. "Well, I did make some treats, but I guess you are not in the mood for them." Barbatos told Lucifer.

Not in the mood for them? Lucifer was speechless. No one could possibly in their right mind turn down treats that Barbatos had made. "No, it's fine. You can just give some to me and then be on your way so that I can get back to my work, thanks." Lucifer said. It did sound a bit rude once it was said, but Lucifer couldn't care less. He needed to keep doing this paperwork, or there would just be more and more, and he could feel himself starting to slip. He could probably keep himself from regressing if he was alone, but Barbatos being there would just make him feel smaller.

"No, I insist we sit down and talk whilst we eat them. After all, we haven't talked just us two alone in a very long time." Barbatos said, and Lucifer could say nothing against that if he didn't want to give himself away, and if Barbatos knew he was slipping, he would probably stay even longer, so Lucifer agreed, and they sat down at the table, Barbatos placing the baked goods down in the middle.

"Please, help yourself." He said as he selected one of the treats for himself. Lucifer listened, taking a tart from the selection. He and Barbatos talked for a while, but Lucifer started to mess up his words and sentence structures more frequently, as he was getting closer and closer to being fully regressed.

"You can be small, Luci." Barbatos told him. "I don't mind." With those words, Lucifer fully regressed. "Barbs." He said, as he started to make grabby hands towards Barbatos. "Hi, Little One." Barbatos said as he scooped him up, placing Lucifer in his lap. "Do you want another treat?" Lucifer nodded, and Barbatos took a biscuit off the table and held it in front of Lucifer with his other hand beneath it, palm facing up to catch any crumbs as Lucifer took a bite.

They continued like this, Barbatos holding the treats whilst Lucifer ate them. Barbatos did occasionally take some for himself, but not as many as he gave Lucifer. Barbatos had also at some point started to rock Lucifer back and forth as he humed, and a combination of the two eventually resulted in a sleeping Lucifer on Barbatos' lap.

Barbatos shifted Lucifer onto his hip so that he could easily stand up without waking Lucifer, and moved over to the desk that was stacked with paperwork. He sat down at it, picking up a pen, and started to do the paperwork, all whilst making sure that he wouldn't wake up Lucifer.

#obey me shall we date #obey me #agere #age regression #little space #fanfiction #fanfic #Lucifer #lucifer #Barbatos #obey me barbatos #obey me lucifer #oneshot #obey me agere #obey me age regression #age regressor lucifer #caregiver barbatos

[lswro2-222]

A Special Treat

(Got bitten by the writing bug today after thinking about this post again, so here’s this itty bitty drabble!)

Two men in blue uniforms stood at a bakery counter one evening, looking at a selection of colorfully-decorated cupcakes in a case beside the register.

“What flavor d’you suppose he’d like?” asked the first, whose name was Tim.

“Dunno… chocolate, maybe?” suggested the second, whose name was Robert.

“After the Mr. Jolly incident?” Tim retorted with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Nah, you’re right, best not… hmm… how about one of the pistachio ones, then? They’re green, he likes green,” said Robert, pointing to a very green cupcake topped with white icing and crushed pistachios.

“Ehhh… not sure,” replied Tim. “Bill says James is allergic to bee stings, who’s to say our boy doesn’t have a nut allergy we don’t know about?”

“Oh, crumbs, I didn’t even think of that. Wouldn’t want the poor lad swelling up on his special day, that wouldn’t do.”

“Maybe we ought to get one of those vanilla ones with all the hundreds-and-thousands on top,” Tim said. “He liked those vanilla biscuit pieces you gave him that one time.”

“Yeah, that sounds perfect,” Robert smiled. “Excuse me, miss? Could we have one of these vanilla cupcakes please?”

The young woman working the counter smiled and took a cupcake from the case. “Of course. I couldn’t help but overhear, is this for your son’s birthday?”

“In a sense,” Robert chuckled. “We’re not his parents, but we look after him so often, he certainly feels like a son to us some days.”

“He’s a handful, he is. Wouldn’t have him any other way, though,” Tim said warmly.

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” said the young woman as she put the cupcake in a small box. “He must be very special to you.”

“Indeed,” nodded Tim. “This’ll be our first time celebrating with him and we wanted to do something special. It’s not often he gets sweets, so this’ll be a right treat for him.”

Robert paid for the cupcake, and the pair turned to leave the shop. Before they were out the door, the young woman asked them how old the birthday boy would be. The two men smirked at each other before answering.

“Oh, he’ll be… what was it again, Tim?”

“122, Rob.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. He’s 122 years old, tomorrow.”

With that, Percy’s driver and fireman walked out of the bakery, laughing to each other and leaving a very shocked-looking young woman behind.

#my own writing #maybe i’ll write a second part with the treat actually being eaten ;) #ttte #thomas the tank engine

[kidney9-9]

Homesick

Anonymous asked: Hello, I’m the same anon that ask you if you write for “Fyodor Dostoevsky”. Since you say so, may I request a one-shot for him, with female reader. So, the story was about reader who’s trying her best to cook some Russian food, let’s just that Fyodor told her that he misses his hometown, and then she’s tried to cure his homesick by cooking some Russian food (preferably dessert). The genre is Fluff, with a little comedy if you can. Take your time and Thank you.

Hi anon! Thank you for sending this request and thank you for waiting :) I hope you enjoy! The dessert I chose is called Kartoshka and it looks sooo good! I'm going to try to make it soon. Requests are open but I will get to them slowly

Italics shows the past

Fyodor Dostoevsky x Reader [Established Relationship/Fluff and Comedy] Warnings: nicknames, kiss Word Count: 1.9k

As you watched Fyodor walk out the back door of the apartment, you slowly sighed and started planning on how to surprise him.

It was something you’ve been thinking about for a few days now, after Fyodor murmured to you on a late night, that he had a dull ache in his chest whenever he thought of home.

You remember how you reached out to cup his face, not to comfort him because he was vulnerable, but to show you understood the feeling. He almost hesitated to completely rest his head into your palm, but he did so after a few seconds of silence. You gazed to his face, looking for an expression and you found silent peace.

“Would you ever go back?” You whispered after a minute, feeling him shift as he interpreted your question. Then he gave you a slight grin and he glanced away to the ceiling.

“Perhaps, when punishment is served, and all is just.” You heard that familiar tone in his voice, the confidence and skill, and you nodded back to him. You felt as though you became the vulnerable one in the conversation as he skillfully transitioned the conversation to why the world must be cleansed of all sins. That was the type of conversation he would start with anyone, but you knew he genuinely wanted to achieve this, and it was his passion.

Homesickness is not one to be cured with medicines and Fyodor did not want to be sympathized for his feelings he shared with you.

Maybe he didn’t mean to slip that out, but you weren’t sure. He was the type of person to disguise himself behind layers of secrets and sometimes he would slip if he let his guard down when he relaxed. You wished he’d tell you all his feelings, but you had a feeling that wouldn’t happen for a long time because of how he views trust and loyalty.

So, you decided maybe just simply reminding him of home with a Russian dessert would be best to let him know you were always there for him, no matter how alone he felt because of his view of the world.

You chose a recipe after scrolling through pages on the internet, thinking this would be a good choice. Kartoshka, or also known as a potato in the Russian language. It wasn’t a fancy dessert, but it was one that can be made later on in the day, using scraps of leftover pastries or cakes and crumbs of bread – but you used some biscuits you bought from the market a few days ago.

The rest of the ingredients called for condensed milk, butter, cocoa powder, and toasted nuts. You only dusted a few toasted nuts, separating it from the ones without nuts, in case you got the wrong recipe.

You melted the butter in a pan first, then continued to use a rolling pin to smash biscuits into small pieces and crumbs, along with a separate container for the nuts. You mixed the crumbs with the prepared cocoa powder and almost gasped in delight from the smell of the mixture.

It was a delicious smell, one that made you want to dip your finger into the mixture and taste, but you held back. Once the mixture seemed to mold into a dough feel, you set it aside for a few minutes to go check what time it was.

It was nearing the time Fyodor would stop by and you bit your lip in concern, hoping you finished them on time. Sometimes he came to visit you for a brunch or even some tea and discuss some news he read in the newspaper that morning, but sometimes he didn’t.

You almost laughed when you remembered the first time he didn’t stop by.

He warned you that you might not see him for a few days or up to a few weeks in case any of his plans went awry but he made sure not to involve you or give you so many details of his plans in case you were somehow discovered by those he challenged. You were extremely worried when he said that, and you tugged him real close by slipping your hand to his shirt’s collar and pulling him to you.

His eyes widened only slightly before he settled into a calm grin, glancing down to your hand slightly touching his neck. He seemed amused but made no comment to your actions.

“You will come back! You better… Or no more jasmine tea for you. And do not get hurt!” Your worry for him only made him grin slightly more and he shook his head at your words.

“Is that supposed to be a punishment?” He barely responded, leaning in and you let go of his collar.

“Yes! I mean it…” And then you sort of tumbled over your words, realizing that if he didn’t come back at all, there would be no tea for him, jasmine or not and then you huffed out a sigh and glanced to the side. He knew what you meant though and he stepped back with a swift nod, and he looked to your hand that held his collar.

“Only the hand of God guides my actions, not yours.”

You slammed the door after that, and he returned an hour earlier than normal with a new tea set for you.

Once you got back to the dough you made, you started to scoop some of it into your clean hands. You rolled all of the dough into small oval molded bits, and you grinned when you saw how the dessert actually did look similar to the shape of potatoes.

You placed them into the fridge delicately, making sure that all of them were in good condition. You waited for around ten minutes to let them cool slightly before you took them out of the fridge to finish it up.

You dusted and sieved the cocoa powder all around the balls of dough you made and made sure all of them were dusted completely on all areas. It got all over you as well, but you liked the smell, so you didn’t care as much.

Each of them looked great! You smiled down to them and hoped that it tasted good, but still you waited for him to return because you wanted to see if he’d like it or not.

Maybe it would remind him of home.

You had accidentally dozed off when you sat down in a cozy chair in the living room, still covered in cocoa powder from making the dessert.

When Fyodor returned home, it was a little later than usual. He opened the door and stepped inside before seeing you in the corner, still fast asleep. He paused when he analyzed your features, realizing there was something all over you.

He furrowed his eyebrows, wondering what it could be as he slowly and hesitantly took another step inside, closing the door but keeping it unlocked. He was only being overcautious and eyed the rest of the living room and entry way before determining that there was nothing off, except for whatever was coated on you.

Still being wary, he made his way to you and stopped before poking at your forehead, collecting some of the dust that was on you. He brought his finger back up to his eyes, trying to see what it could be before he sniffed and realized it was cocoa powder.

You woke up instantly from the poke, gasping in surprise when Fyodor leaned down face-to-face with you, his eyes wide with curiosity.

“Cocoa? For what?” He questioned you and you yawned and blinked tiredly a few times, shaking your head at him.

“No hello? No, how are you doing, my honey?” You joked, tiredness in your voice and he pressed his lips down into a line.

“Hello. How are you doing, my… honey?” He visibly cringed at the use of the term of endearment, and you started to chuckle, covering your laughs with a hand to your mouth. He tugged your hand away and grinned at your laugh, feeling relieved that you were okay and that he didn’t need to feel worried like he did when he stepped inside.

“I’m doing fabulous, sugarplum. How are you?” You giggled as you said “sugarplum” and he rolled his eyes only slightly at it, not amused with using those two terms of endearment. He preferred other kinds of nicknames.

He ignored your question, “Why is there powder on you? Did the cocoa powder fall on you in the pantry?” You scrunched your nose up at the second question, shaking your head. Some of the dust of the powder flew up in the air when you shook your head.

He sighed, leaning in closer and brushed one of your cheeks, getting rid of the powder on it. You relaxed slightly at his touch and then he leaned back too soon, walking towards the kitchen with curiosity.

You quickly jumped up to follow him with a loud “Wait!”, he ignored your call and then paused when he walked into the kitchen, seeing the dish on the counter with the dessert. He instantly knew what they were, and a warm feeling spread throughout him.

He used to eat these as a little kid, sneaking into some bakeries and kitchens to find some food and treats. He remembered how refreshing it felt to bite into the cool bits of dough, dusted with the cocoa powder and how it coated his lips and cheeks whenever he finished one of the dough balls.

“Kartoshka?” It came out as a mumble and then he turned around when you bumped into him, since you rushed after him.

You nodded to him, opening your mouth to respond but you quickly closed it, hoping it would be okay. Silent was best sometimes. He walked over to the dish, and you gazed to his face, seeing a small smile form once he picked up one of the dough balls.

He tore it in half and quickly walked back to you, an excited smile captured on his face. He gave you one half and bit into the other with a satisfied hum. You bit the half he gave you, smiling and laughing when you saw the cocoa powder smeared on his lips.

Once you were finished eating it, you quickly grabbed onto his hand to stop him from reaching for another. There was a silent question in his eyes but the moment you leaned up and wrapped one arm around his back, his smile turned softer, and he leaned down to kiss you.

The kiss was a one-of-a-kind type of kiss, the one you think about years later. He could feel that warmth in his chest spread everywhere as you kissed him with a soft need, just as he did with you. It was one short kiss at first, but it continued into a fully passionate one as he pressed you back against the counter, going from kissing you to licking some of the cocoa powder off the area around your lips.

You two slowly pulled apart from each other and you breathed in deeply. He was looking back to the dish, lips slightly red and puffy and somehow, he still had some cocoa powder pressed up on his chin and you chuckled silently.

The look in his eyes made you know how he was feeling. Nostalgia and some happiness.

You ran your hand up and down his arm for a moment before you pulled away and walked back to the living room. You sat back down and smiled, hoping that he knows that it’s possible to bring along memories of his hometown here.

Thank you for requesting anon :)

#fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

[mlmxreader]

The Best Way to A Soldier's Heart | Wilhelm Wicki x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Hi, hope you're doing well

I was wondering if I could request Wicki with the prompt "I don't care if I gotta walk a thousand miles to be with you, I want you"

Hope you have a nice night and thank you!

summary: Wicki's got a little crush, but at least he knows what the best way to a soldier's heart is.

tws: swearing, smoking

Ration quality food wasn't exactly the best thing in the world, it wasn't particularly filling and it didn't particularly taste good either, but you and the Basterds made do with what you were given, and when you could, stealing from locals was another option; the few times you had managed to get cheese, real cheese, and real butter and eggs were some of the best meals you had had in years, and although everyone ate more than their fair share, and there were never any leftovers, Wicki always gave you a part of his own. He would lie and say that he was full, but in truth, he had seen how you were struggling so much more than the others, and he wanted to at least make sure that you had a full stomach, even though he couldn't do anything else.

But it was late, and your stomach was growling so loudly that it was keeping Wicki up as he tried to sleep in the hammock next to where you were on the floor; usually, such a noise was easy to ignore and easy to brush aside, but because it was you, Wicki couldn't stop himself. Slowly and cautiously getting out of his hammock so that he could search his bag for something, anything to eat; there were a few stale biscuits, and a little bit of cheese that he had intended to save for a later date, all wrapped in brown paper. He grabbed it, and gently kicked your foot, clearing his throat as he squatted down and handed you the parcel.

"Käse," he stated. "Und Kekse."

You nodded, grabbing it and tearing off the paper as if it was the most valuable and useful of gifts, shoving the biscuits into your mouth without even a second of hesitation; you smiled at Wicki, crumbs all over your lips, and allowed him to wipe them away with the pads of his thumbs as he returned the smile.

It wasn't much, but at least it stopped your stomach from grumbling so loudly, even if Wicki couldn't help himself as he sat down properly and crossed his legs, resting his elbows on his knees as he tilted his head to the side and raised his brows. "Better?"

"Much," you chuckled softly. "Thank you, Wilhelm..."

He nodded, unable to shake the thought from his head, something that his father had told him long ago; the best way to a soldier's heart is through his stomach. Wicki smiled. He had always had a little bit of a crush on you, even back when you were transferred to the Basterds from your section of the RAF; your commanding officer, Kashyap, had told you to go with them, as you had flown over enemy territory enough that you knew it well. You served almost as a sort of guide, and Aldo was pleased to have you on the team. Wicki had been a little nervous around you to begin with, mostly because he had never met a man so fucking handsome before, and when he got to know you, when he got to know your personality, it took the breath from him; his gazes would linger, he would try and make you laugh at every chance, he would sleep near you and would almost always offer to help you with guarding the Basterds and scavenging for anything other than ration quality food.

He pulled out his cigarettes, and offered you one. "Gern geschehen, mein Pilot."

You scoffed, letting him cup his hands around the end of your cigarette so that you could light it, staring into his eyes as you swallowed thickly. He pulled away, and you couldn't help but to miss the closeness. "Remember when I took you for a spin in my Hawker?"

"Ja," he nearly laughed at the memory. "You were in a lot of trouble with Kashyap for that."

"It was fun though," you pointed out. "Wasn't it?"

Wicki nodded, finally letting out a soft chuckle as he lit his cigarette. "I wasn't happy when you made us go upside down... or when you raced the Spitfire."

You grinned. "When I raced Khan, I thought you were gonna be sick."

"I very nearly was," he admitted. "But... I enjoyed it."

"I'll take you out in it again," you told him. "When we've won the war, when I go back to the RAF... if you come with me, I'll take you out in the Hawker again - as payment for the cheese and biscuits."

"Are you sure?" He asked, furrowing his brows.

You nodded, still grinning at him as you nudged his shoulder. "I'm a pilot, I'm sure of everything I do in a plane... besides, I gotta think of a way to repay you for feeding me, don't I?"

"You don't need to," Wicki told you gently, shaking his head. "You'd do the same."

"Wilhelm, I'd walk a thousand miles for you," you admitted with a soft laugh. "I'd fucking stroll through fire like it was a walk to the shops, if you asked me."

He swallowed thickly, wondering if maybe he should tell you about his little crush on you, wondering if you felt the same and wondering if he really should be honest; tomorrow may never come, you may never see the dawn creeping up. Time was short. It was better to die an honest man. "(y/n), I... feel things for you. Romantisch things."

You shrugged, tilting your head to the side and cocking a brow. "And you think I don't feel them things, too?"

He looked at you, the type of look that told you everything you needed to know; that he knew what you had meant, and that he was sitting there, waiting for you to make the first move just so he could be sure. Just so he knew what you had said meant what he thought it did. Wicki wasn't shy, not by any means, but he was careful, and he didn't want to make a move if you weren't ready for it. He didn't want to cause any miscommunication.

So you sighed, and you took his hand in yours, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles as you smiled. "I want to be with you, romantically. Not just as brothers in arms."

Turning his hand over, Wicki laced his fingers with yours, and sighed heavily when you gave his hand a little squeeze; it was the first move he had waited for, and now that he knew what you meant, he nodded slowly. "I don't care if I gotta walk a thousand miles to be with you, I want you, too."

"Then keep feeding me," you joked softly. "I've got a stomach like a bottomless pit at the moment, keep feeding me and I'll never leave you."

He grinned, doing his best not to laugh when he heard Hugo start to trudge back to the little camp, turning his head slightly. "Get some rest, mein Kampfpilot. I'll be in the hammock."

"Wait," you tugged his hand, pleading with him. "Can I... shit... can I join you?"

Wicki nodded. "Ja, natürlich, there should be enough room for us both."

"Danke," you replied gently, "mein geliebter."

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 #wicki x reader #wilhelm wicki x reader #wilhelm wicki #wicki #inglourious basterds x reader #inglourious basterds imagine #inglourious basterds #inglorious basterds x reader #inglorious basterds imagine #inglorious basterds

[iluvchanniesposts]

Hi! Can you do a lee!reader fic? The ler(s) can be whoever you want and also the story. Its fine 8f you dont want to :)

Also, i love ur blog <3

karma // chanlix x reader

lers!chan+felix

lee!reader

—

“don’t you think these cookies taste a little..weird?” felix asked, face contorting at the disgusting food. “hm, yeah. i did think so too, it’s like..salty.” chan replied, placing the rest of his biscuit down onto the plate. on both of their agreement, they decided to leave the rest of the cookies for the other members. they didn’t quite care enough to tell them about the flaws, though.

“where is y/n? i haven’t seen them all day.” chan rubbed the crumbs from his fingers, onto his jeans as they both headed upstairs. “they’re probably doing something in their room, shall we go see if they’re okay?” the sweetheart felix queried and chan nodded.

they made their way to your room, where you were content and listening to music. the prank had slipped your mind a long time ago by now, completely forgetting that you added salt instead of sugar into the mixture for a laugh.

a few knocks at your door made you jump, quickly turning the volume down before letting them in. you were met with a smiley felix, and chan digging something out of his tooth.

“you okay, y/n?” chan asked, entering the room and making himself comfy on your bed. “yeah, why do you ask?” you sat down next to him, now in between him and felix. “you baked those cookies and disappeared. did you taste one?” you could tell felix was trying to be nice, but a smirk formed upon your face at the memory of the cookies. “why are you smiling?” chan laughed nervously and you shook your head.

“did you eat them?” you stifled a snigger, covering your mouth in the process. this gave chan access to poke your side from the left, making you jump onto your feet. “what did you do to them?!” he fake yelled, pulling you back down and restraining you. “you’re not going to tell us?” felix questioned as he hovered over your body, hands in claw position. “why should i? they’re just cookies.” you shrugged. there was no warning as to what came next, but all you felt was pure ticklish agony.

felix had shoved his hands in your armpits, making you squeal at the sudden motion. then, he suddenly stopped, allowing you to speak. “what did you do to them cookies?” he spoke in a more daring tone, hovering his hands above your skin. “i put salt instead of sugar!” you flinched, waiting for the next move.

you opened one eye slowly, to see them nodding at each other. now, they were holding a hand up each, with chan attacking your sides on the left, and felix attacking your armpits on the right.

safe to say you wouldn’t be playing pranks on them anymore.

#stray kids #stray kids tickle #felix #chan #skz x reader #bang chan #skz #tickle #ler

[eviltiddyproductions]

weird that either I’m down bad for the chemistry of the leads in season 2 or the writing because I rooted for them so hard.

Alchemy of Souls season 2 is kinda rare that way for me because I swear I was ready to throw the whole show away when I saw the finale of season 1. 💀✋

I’m kinda still trying to work my feelings about this show because it refuses to leave my head. Hindsight is 20/20 so I guess now I tire of the season 1 flow a little harder because to me, not enough romance and fluff. I felt it while watching it but my dumbass had thought that the last 3-4 episodes we’d get domestic. 🤩 (LMAOOOO)

on the contrary we got domestic real fast in season 2 and I guess because at my core I’m a romance starved girly I enjoyed it a bit more. Uk and Dangu did a lot to bring humour to the show in season 1 but Jin Buyeon just made everything light. Her interactions with almost everyone on the show were just light and happy and bright. She had literally no reason to be on her toes expect of her mom and no one had any reason to be anything around her because she was already married and very much not a threat.

I want ‘as you can see my beauty is unmatched but I’m not very bright’ framed in my house.

honestly a part of me pined for her and Yul for half a second, even if it meant her saying that she’d get him those pine biscuits next time. begging for crumbs of happiness for my man 😭💔

I think I’m still coping with the character loss a little because it happened like a flash flood like it happened SO FAST lol.

Honestly I haven’t watched a lot of Kdramas so I was surprised that Naksu coming back to life wasn’t anticipated in the last 2 episode. But I’ve learnt a bit more about the creators and we won lol. I had expected it like the ending of season 1 the moment she got possessed. (Like ofc you’d do that to me 😭)

anyway maybe I am coming around to the ending which makes complete sense except to me the transition happened quick and everything after that happened quicker and to be honest they were doing SO MUCH in the last 2 episodes that I just didn’t have time to ponder.

Naksu is Jin Buyeon so she is the happy girl that I’ve loved for 8 episodes so idk I’m mourning her character like she’s right there 💀💀💀 I guess because her character once again became burdened by all she’d done and gone through and became somber I for a minute became a hater.

I’m coming around to it. And at the same time being a little salty because I love the idea of people falling in love again. Even if they had decided that she wouldn’t have been Naksu. Like in Season 1 where our girl was full on using Mudeok’s body and just stayed. I wouldn’t have really mind if they went with that. That she’d always be this cute lil ball of sunshine. But it is unfair to keep this from both of them so I get it.

I guess if they eased into her identity reveal and gave them and me 5 more minutes I’d get to celebrate 🎉 their reunion.

good for them though! fighting relics together ❣️

I just looked up and realised how much I have written- on top of the 17 posts I’ve already written about this LMAO why am I like this 😭 need to find a new thing to latch onto fast like what is this babe

#alchemy of souls #alchemy of souls: light and shadow #kinda not ready to leave the ending #I hope there’s a world where new romances post a terrible loss are blooming and thriving #I’m just being a hater I’ll recover #jang uk and jin buyeon in episode 8 will always be there for me

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: You Always Meet Twice

Link to ao3

Chapter 47

Nick fell asleep eventually as his adrenaline wore off. When a coughing fit woke him up the next day, he sat up to see if Howard brought him another drink. Instead, he saw a group of Headboys standing in front of his cell and froze. For a moment, they gaped at each other.

Nick feared they came to punish him for the sudden end of his show. But then they began to speak all at once. “Nick!” “Sing for us again!” “Play your guitar, Nick!” “Just one more song!” Nick could swear those intimidating thugs just turned into fanboys. Before he could answer, a louder voice bellowed over all the others. “What the fuck are you doing? Get away from him! You give him a heart attack!” “Aww, he's a delicate little artist, isn't he?”, one of the Headboys purred. “Don't worry, we don't hurt him!” “We don't bother you, right, Nicky?” Finally, Nick had a chance to speak up, but another coughing fit ruined it.

“That's it! Let me through if you wanna keep him!” Howard made his way through the group, opened the cell and somehow slipped inside without letting anyone else in. He even locked the door again. “Nope, you stay out”, he answered to the fan's protests and placed the mug and a teapot on the bed stand. Nick quickly helped himself. “There you go”, Howard sighed. “You have a fever? Any pain?” “My throat”, Nick croaked after his first, wholesome sip. Then he wiped his brow. “I...I think I have a fever, too...” “Shit. I told you you were killing yourself...” The man paused to think. Nick winced. “Am I dying?” To his relief, Howard chuckled. “Not so soon, princess. I'll go get the antidote for you.”

“Why do you get to go?”, a Headboy threw in. “Don't you have a shift to make up for? Let me go instead.” “And why would he let you go?”, another one replied and then they started fighting over the task. “Hey!”, Howard yelled and they fell quiet. “I'm responsible for him because I brought him in and only I have permission to care for him. You boys get back to work.” “But we keep him company as long as you're gone!” “Does he look like he wants company? If you wanna be any useful, get him breakfast.” “Now who's the caretaker?” “Right. This isn't about him, you just want an excuse to take a stroll and do fuck all! Get out of here!”

They bantered and the group eventually agreed to bring Nick food. Nick watched them, fascinated. He had fans. And in a way, he also had a manager. Someone who brought him medicine when he felt awful, just like Virgil used to do it. So – the show was a success. Nick smiled to himself and drank more tea. Soon, the group came back and shoved plates through the bars.

Nick went to gather the offerings. He got cake, a sandwich, biscuits and the usual blue currant. The last one gave Nick a can of orange juice that he opened and emptied quickly. It was very satisfying to drink something that tasted good for a change. Crumbling the can in his fingers, he rasped “Guys, you are incredible. I'm so hungry...” “That was hell of a show last night! Howard made such a big deal out of you and I expected nothing. But he didn't lie”, one of them blurted out while Nick wolfed down the sandwich. “Who are you?”, someone else asked. “What's your real name?” “My name is Nick”, Nick said and wiped crumbs from his pants before he busied himself with the cake. The group silenced and Nick gave them a look, both pouting and challenging.

“Okay...?”, the same man as before said. “Your sound and style are pretty close, so...” Nick sighed and put the plate down. He licked icing from his lips before he answered: “Listen, I am Nick Lightbearer. I can't prove it now that my voice is fucked, but you've seen my moves, you heard me. You just begged me to sing again, like all my fans do. You make me feel at home and I'm sorry that I can't sing for you....” He had to cough again. “Ah...hell...I hope that antidote helps.” “It does”, the Headboy said. “You'll lie down for a day but you'll be good.” “What's in that stuff?” “It's like the tea, but stronger...I don't know. I just know it helps.” “Huh...okay...If you don't kill me for being knocked out for a day...” “Why would we do that?” “Because I...I...Am I your bard now?”, Nick asked with furrowed brows. “Pff, bard. You're our next star!” “We were hoping you'd play a few songs now...” “Ah, I'm sorry, lads. I could play guitar for you, no vocals, though.” “Perfect!” Five pairs of eyes stared at him. “And you have to bring me my guitar”, Nick added. “And the amp. Should be still in the stadium.” “Alright, then. Last to appear on stage is a rainbow-shitting Wellie!”

And off they went, seemingly racing to the place. Nick was baffled by them, how happy they acted. They made fun of Wellies, but they played just like them. Was it his music that did this to them? Was he like Joy? Or did he just attract the happiest people here? What did the others think of him then? Nick concluded that he had to ask more questions. He drank his tea until they came back and handed him the things. “You guys make for good roadies”, Nick said plucking the strings. “I'd rather be that than the cook's assistant...”, someone complained. “If you wanna patrol at night just say it”, another one snapped. They started to banter again, but Nick interrupted them. “Hey, lads, you wanna hear me or not?” He made them stare at him again.

Taking in their excitement, Nick decided to spare questions for later and began to play. He began with a faster song, like the opener that made them bounce on the balls of their feet. He went on calmer, than faster again, playing his audience as if they were puppets on strings. When he looked up, he noticed that the group was becoming bigger. He summoned more of his fans and felt better and better. He went on until suddenly a ruckus aroused in the crowd. People seemed to be pushed away, accompanied by loud cussing. Then Howard appeared in front of his cell, his face red. “Get out of here! The party is over!”, he shouted at Nick's audience.

“Hey, don't blame them! We had fun!” “Yeah, great. You think this is a joke? Get back to bed!” Now this really felt like Virgil. Nick fell back onto his bed and Howard handed him a small bottle. “Drink this.” Nick did so and grimaced. The antidote tasted even bitterer. “Ah...Why can't this taste good?”, he muttered his protest. “So you won't take it for prune juice...”, Howard muttered back and actually pulled the blanket over him. “It's making you tired, so just sleep. Don't worry about upcoming shows, you proved your worth and they'll leave you alone until you feel better...Won't they?”, he spat at the remaining Headboys who were still watching. They hastily retreated. Nick didn't notice what happened afterwards, because his eyes fell shut.

When he woke up, he still felt a little dizzy, but the pain in his throat was gone. He was so happy about this that he just lay in his bed and enjoyed the peace. He didn't mind to do nothing now, even though he wished he wasn't still locked in a cell. Didn't he deserve to get out yet? To get his own room with actual walls so nobody would stare at him through the bars? He pulled the blanket over his head and realized right afterwards that he could use his guitar to get attention. To call for Howard and ask him all his questions. Reaching out from under the bed, he grabbed the instrument and pulled it under the blanket. He strummed the strings, humming along until he felt like poking his head back out. It was unfair, he thought. The bed was so comfy and warm, but Nick couldn't be seen hiding under it. He now had to build up an image.

He took a deep breath and began to play again, a calm song that nicely echoed in the hallway. Not a bad sound, he mused. Not bad at all. It didn't take long until the first Headboys showed up. To Nick's relief, Howard was one of them and he opened the cell again. “Get him out! Get him out!”, the others chanted. “Yeah, get me out!”, Nick agreed and stopped playing. Howard closed the cell behind him after walking in. He looked at him with a worried expression. “How are you? You're really ready for the lion's den?” Nick wondered if he meant another show. “Actually, I just wanted to leave this cell. Get a real room? I proved my worth, right? Or do you guys all sleep in cells?” Howard nodded, but he didn't seem to be convinced. “You get a room alright. But are you ready yet? You better stay here if you still cough your lungs out.” “I...I'm okay. Just dizzy....”

“What are you doing? Let him out already!”, a Headboy shouted from outside. “What do you want from me?”, Nick asked him. “Entertainment”, the man answered. “That's what you're here for. Our old bard always played for us after dinner.” “You already had dinner?” “Well, you were sleeping, right? And your watchdog made sure you get your beauty sleep.” “Now that you mention it, I rather eat first.” “I have a better idea. Earn it.” The Headboy pointed at him. “You must've missed my show yesterday.” “We all have pretty bad memories”, the man sneered. “Better get out and refresh them.” “He's sick”, Howard replied. “He sounds fine to me.” Nick vibed the strings of his new guitar. “Alright. I see what I can do.” “Good boy.”

Howard stopped intervening and opened the door for him. Nick stepped out and felt strange at first, but then he saw the excitement grow in the eyes of the men around him. They acted just like fans, rough attitudes aside. Nick played a cheerful tune, just for them. “To be continued”, he said at the end of it and winked. As a result, a Headboy slapped his shoulder. “Come on bard, you've been in that cell long enough...” Nick liked the overall friendly tone.

They brought him into what seemed to be a large common room. It was where the laughter had come from the first time he had walked through this place. The Headboys began to cheer and shout into his direction when they saw him and Nick decided to take the stage immediately. He gave them one of his most ambitious guitar solos, telling a story, right there and now with his guitar alone. The Headboys listened in silence. They stopped whatever they had been doing and stared at Nick who stood in the middle of the room.

Nick was glad it still worked. Whatever bad things he could say about himself, his music hadn't lost it's magic. It was in fact the only discipline he was good at. His sole purpose in life. He failed at everything else, but at least he could weave his tragedy into songs. He played his heart out and when he stopped, the room fell silent.

“Holy shit!”, a Headboy finally shouted and then they fell into roaring applause. Nick playfully bowed and gave them a triumphant smile. Then he played the next song – and actually sang this time and the evening turned into a lighter edition of his show. After a while, the Headboys began to throw in requests and Nick followed. Whenever he caught a glimpse of Howard, he saw the man watch him closely. It didn't make him feel uncomfortable, though. Instead he felt save and he knew he could stop when he needed a rest. The other Headboys sang along or danced, probably depending on how drunk they were. When Nick's throat became hoarse again, he played one last song without lyrics and then gave Howard a look.

The guard understood immediately, clapped his hands together and announced the end of the show. The following hours were a bit chaotic. At first the Headboys shouted for more songs, then they began to involve Nick in a drinking game. He didn't remember how many times he played or if he won. He just woke up in his cell with a throbbing head.

Nick whined loudly and called for Virgil before he noticed a glass on his bed stand. Virgil's special recipe, he thought and gulped it down. It tasted even worse this time. “Ew, Virgil, what did you put in this?”, moaned and pulled the blanket over himself. Whatever it was though, it helped and then Nick realized that it wasn't Virgil who gave him that drink. “Howard, you good soul”, he muttered and crawled out of his bed. He noticed that his guitar was gone, so he crawled to the bars and clutched them. “How – aaah!”, was all he could say before he fell out of his cell. The door was open. Nick cussed quietly and struggled up. Then he noticed that he was free.

He wandered through the hallways with highest curiosity. He found empty cells, locked doors and storage rooms before he passed by the dorms. He poked his nose into them, too. They looked actually comfy, but they'd be way too crowded for his taste. He'd rather pretty up that cell for himself than sharing a bedroom. However, seeing beds standing close to each other made his heart feel heavy. Two mattresses in front of a furnace... But Nick eagerly shook his head. Not now.

His mood rose again when he found the shower room. He didn't ponder for long. The hot water felt so very satisfying. He also brushed his hair, made himself presentable again. If he wanted to be their new star, he needed to look like one as well. Assuming that his guitar was still in the common room, he braced himself and went there.

#we happy few #you always meet twice #whf #wehappyfew #nick x morrie #nickxmorrie #nick lightbearer #nicklightbearer #whfnicklightbearer #whfnick #whf nick #morriememento #morrie memento #whfmorrie #whf morrie #garden district #the garden district #gardendistrict

[gracefulsunflower]

CONTRARY - FINN SHELBY X READER; PART 35

PUBLISHED: 07/07/2022

Part 1

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST

READER'S POV

Finn and I had already been to camp (after showering together, of course) to get breakfast and pick up Saoirse. Now we were in the living room, hanging up the paintings that Billy had given us for Christmas. He had given one to each of us, then one to all of us.

I had no doubt that Linda thought of the gift. She may have been a bitch, but she sure knew how to pick presents.

It was a good thing, too, because they made our walls look all the less bare. We didn't have many photos. Finn's parents weren't overly worried about taking photos of him, and we could rarely get near a camera to take photos of Saoirse, having to draw or paint her instead. In fact, the only photo Finn and I had together, as well as the only one all three of us had together, was ones from our wedding.

I frowned as I adjusted the painting on its hook and made sure it was level, then stepped back, going and curling up in my armchair.

"What's wrong, my love?" Finn asked from his spot on the floor next to Saoirse, practicing a song she taught him on the ukulele as she read a book.

"We don't have any family photos," I huffed, and Saoirse stopped reading to look at me.

Finn shrugged one shoulder, as if he couldn't care less, making me scowl. He cocked a brow and waved a hand, showing him to not worry about it.

"We should get some?" She suggested, although it sounded more like a question than a suggestion.

"We can book a photographer for our wedding anniversary," Finn added, eyes still on me as he studied me.

"I'd like that idea. But it's ages away though," I complained, throwing my arms up in annoyance as I shifted so I was dangling my legs over the side of the chair and my upper half was hanging over the other side of the armchair.

"It's in nine days, on the tenth," Finn pointed out as I listened to the fire crackle, and my eyes widened.

"Like fuck it is," I protested, rolling out of the chair, landing on my hands and knees with a 'thud' then standing up and marching over to the door leading to the hallway, making my way into the kitchen.

I headed towards the fridge, where we had a calendar hung up on it, and looked at the January page.

My eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Oh, fuck, it is."

"Told you," Finn replied as he came into the kitchen, making me roll my eyes.

I kept on looking at the calendar as Finn pottered around.

"Your birthday is on the third?" I asked, turning to face my husband, "How come you never said anything about it."

He paused, mouth open as the arm holding the cookie he was going to bite stopping in its tracks, and shrugged, then bit half of the cookie clean off.

I gave him a deadpan look, clearly not impressed with his response, and grabbed the pen from the top of the fridge, then wrote in my birthday, placing the pen on top of the fridge once more.

"Well, when's yours then?" He questioned, mouth still full of cookie.

"On the fourth," I answered, and walked over to the island to grab my own cookie out of the jar.

He swallowed the food in his mouth, looking at me in bewilderment, "Of January?"

"Of January," I confirmed, and took a bite, humming at the taste of it.

They were homemade, I made them yesterday before we started partying.

Finn's eyes kept on flickering to my bracelet as he nibbled on his second biscuit, and I nudged him with my foot.

"What, Finn?" I sighed, feeling slightly frustrated, and he held a finger up as he continued chewing, then swallowed, and wiped his lower face with the back of his hand, ridding it of any crumbs.

He hesitated, putting his cookie down. He opened his mouth and closed it. I fought the urge to cross my arms impatiently, instead deciding to reach out and grab his hand, rubbing the back of it with my thumb. The action made his cheeks tint pink.

"Erm — I was looking at the rose charm," Finn admitted, leaning back against the island and hoisting himself up to sit on the bench.

I did the same, swinging my feet and waiting for him to continue.

"Well — I know from how all of the kids talk that Aberama and Rose never actually separated and that your father never actually got with Marian. And I'm confused about how you even ended up with Aberama." Finn said, the words tumbling out of his mouth and nearly running together at some points.

I nodded slowly, "How about a cup of tea?"

Finn immediately leaned over and switched the kettle on, as I wiggled around and made myself more comfortable, leaning back on my palms.

"So — where should I start?" I asked my husband, looking up at the roof so I wouldn't have to see him looking at me.

"At the start," He replied, barely giving me time to finish my own sentence.

I took a moment to think, before starting to speak.

"Rose and Aberama were on again off again, although everyone knew they belonged together. They had Esmeralda a good six years before me, then Bonnie followed three years after. In an off again stage, Dad met Marian at a fairground, and they got to know each other in the biblical sense. Eight months later, I came along, and with the help of some healers from the Gold family, I survived." I said, racking my brain for what Dad told me about my early years.

"Eight months?" Finn asked incredulously, eyes wide, "Is that why you're so short?"

I could feel my cheeks growing warmer.

"The healers said it was an effect of coming into the world too early!" I snapped, and Finn said a quick 'Sorry'.

"Anyway. I lived with Marian, and Dad would come and visit when he could, taking me on the road when Marian let him. Sometimes Marian even came with. Her and Rose got on well, as well as her and the older two, until they found out what she was really like, of course. He had eyes in the neighbourhood, other travellers that had settled down, so he knew how I was faring, somewhat. Uhhh — I never went to school. Marian didn't want to send me, instead I just ran amuck around the neighbourhood, playing hopscotch, making friends, eating apples from our neighbours' orchard — just having fun." I paused as the kettle stopped boiling.

Finn got up and started making us tea.

"Keep going," He requested as he grabbed the biscuits.

"Marian was forever nasty when I was a child, only nice when we had company. It got worse as I got older," I recounted, my hand absentmindedly going up and rubbing the small scar going through my eyebrow, "When Saoirse came along, after I turned eight, Dad and Rose came to visit us with her. That was probably the first time Dad, and the older two, actually ever saw firsthand how Marian treated me. Dad didn't take too kindly to it, and tried to take me off of Marian, but Marian had a lot of friends in high places, friends that wouldn't mind turning a blind eye to the way she treated me."

Finn grimaced as he brought my tea and biscuits over to me and sat it on the bench next to me, then taking the time to press a kiss to my forehead and hold it for a while, before moving to get his own tea and biscuits.

"Erm, it all came to a head when I turned nine. Dad, Rose, and the kids all came over for my birthday and it turned to shit. There was a lot of things thrown, words said, and tears. I don't like talking about it. No one does. Dad took me away that day, saying he'd shoot Marian if she tried to stop him, and I believed it. I visited her once again when I was thirteen, but other than that I had no contact with her, and didn't see her again until the wedding," I finished, and Finn took a long, slow, sip of his tea.

"It wasn't all bad," I added, "But you know how it is."

"We tend to focus on the bad parts," Finn said understandingly, nodding.

I gave him a small smile, and took a sip of my own tea.

"Erm — is Marian the reason you got funny over family photos?" Finn asked carefully, and I let a long breath out through my nostrils.

"She — she didn't have any photos of me, but she always had her and everyone else she knew up in the walls," I explained, and Finn frowned, leaning over and placing a hand on my knee, then squeezing it.

"Now, Mr. Shelby, what was your life like?" I inquired, and Finn chuckled, dipping his biscuit into his tea.

"Can we finish our tea first?" He asked, and I nodded, grabbing one of my own biscuits.

•••

THIRD PERSON'S POV

You and Finn decided to celebrate your birthdays together, on the fifth of January, with a lunch at your house, in the garden, with everyone bringing a dish of food.

It was a joyous occasion, with quite a few people in attendance. Esme and her brood even attended it, to your surprise.

If you could make a day happen again, the fifth of January, 1927, would be your first choice.

§§§

Short lil chapter because it's sorta kinda a filler lol it was meant to go in a different direction but it didn't go in that direction so eh

Also I'll give you guys from five days to a week to pick baby names from the list in the previous chapter (voting ending on the 14th of July at the latest lol)

Also — If some of you eagle eyed readers noticed that the first set of baby names were all variants of Finn's name, there's a reason for that.

If you go back to chapter nine, you'll see a scene where the reader says that she would never name her child 'Finn Junior' if she was naming them after Finn, instead using his first name as a middle name or using a variant of his name for the first name 🤭

Anyways — The rest of the chapters between now and when I plan to start writing about season 5 may all be shorter than usual, due to being fillers/not being overly important to the plot, just being more of Finn and the Reader's relationship lol

Love y'all ❤️

- Sunflower x

TAGLIST

@meadownicolee

@toothlessmcleod

@im-your-possession

@bethabear12

@paisley-37

@shelundeadxxxx

@bluehairdie

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Part 36

#finn shelby #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby x y/n #finn shelby x you #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #x reader #arthur shelby #finn shelby fanfic #tommy shelby

[jjsanguine]

Foodie sanguine: dairy free baked cheese-less cake

I made cheesecake (baked cheesecake of course, no bake cheesecake is a sin against both God and man) because I tried making cookies and failed again by adding too much flour. I already made the last batch of terrible cookies into decent fudgy brownies, so I wanted to switch it up.

I can't eat real dairy so I used vegan double cream (≈heavy cream) and coconut cream (because I only had one thing of the double cream) and I haven't made a cheesecake with real cheese in several years, but I think it might actually be better this way.

Texturally it was completely smooth unlike cashew cheesecake. It also didn't have that dairy aftertaste, which vegan cream cheese somehow manages to capture.

The top of the cheesecake was not smooth because I mixed the ingredients with a blender and that incorporates a lot of air but you could just put fruit or dust it with sugar or cocoa powder or something. Here's the recipe if you want to try cheese-less cake for yourself.

Ingredients

250ml 8½oz vegan whipping cream

250ml 8½oz coconut cream (NOT coconut milk, coconut cream. Also don't use the organic stuff.)

1 teaspoon vanilla

40g 3 tablespoons dark brown sugar

50g ¼ cup granulated sugar

40g ¼ cup plain flour (you can also use brown flour)

1 egg

Pinch of salt

For the base I didn't measure, I just started out with like 200g of chocolate biscuit crumbs and added melted fake butter + cocoa butter and oat milk till it was kind of like a thick porridge or cookie dough consistency. The great thing about cheesecake is that you can make the base anything.

Method

Mix biscuit crumbs and melted butter together in a bowl and put the mixture in a 20cm cake pan lined with baking paper or aluminium foil.

Spread the mixture with your spoon so it's a flat layer maybe 1cm thick.

Bake for 15 minutes at 250°C, then take it out of the oven to cool. After removing the base, reduce the oven to about 160°C. My oven has very imprecise temperature selection so I don't know exactly the temp.

While the base is baking, put whipping cream, sugar, vanilla, salt and flour in a bowl. I used a stick blender to mix these but you could use a whisk or a spoon if you want.

Add the coconut cream to the batter. I added this last because coconut cream curdles sometimes if you over mix. I mixed with a spoon as best I could then gave it a quick mix with the stick blender to get rid of any lumps. If you're using only double cream then you don't need to bother with this.

Pour the batter into the cake pan with the base, and put it on a baking tray. Pour water in the baking tray (NOT into the cake pan with the batter, into the baking tray that the cake pan is sitting in), then cover the cake pan with foil so the top doesn't become too brown.

Put the baking tray in the middle rack of the oven and bake for about 55 minutes. If you don't have an oven you can skip the water bath and put the cheesecake in an air fryer or halogen oven, but it is more likely to be over cooked and curdle so the texture isn't smooth. In that case I'd put it in the air fryer for 40 minutes then check.

After 55 minutes the cheesecake should still wobble a bit in the middle, but be completely firm on the sides. Turn the oven off and leave the cheesecake in the warm oven for like 30 minutes, or until it doesn't wobble at all.

Put the cake pan in the fridge overnight or for like 6 hours.

I know the texture didn't look that smooth but that's because my knife is from Wilko.

#foodie sanguine #im pretty sure you could use an egg replacer and make it vegan but i haven't tried any