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yxami · 5 months

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happy nut or not November day 9

desc: yandere puppyboy x gn reader, mentions of nsfw, obsession, marking, breeding, stalking, obsession, perverted habits, I dunno what else

Golden retriever boyfriend who perks up at any chance to please you, loving every-time you run your fingers through his hair, you’ve accustomed yourself to rotting in bed after work so you could cuddle with him all night.

He’s always whipping something up in the kitchen when you get home so you’re happy and full. He always has it written down on the whiteboard magnetically held on your fridge.

If you recall correctly you think it might’ve been a soup of some sort, he was always switching it up every week so nothing was ever repeated unless you liked it and asked for it again. Today was a special occasion since you were bringing a friend over but that was a surprise for him.

“Hey, welcome home!” He happily says, tail wagging as he sees you stepping inside the apartment, he’s about to run up and hug you until he sees a figure behind you. He already doesn’t like the look of this.

“Hey babe, I’ve told you about Erin right?” You introduce your coworker, letting him pop up beside you as you scoot to the left. “He’s over for dinner!” You smile, but it doesn’t help with his boiling jealousy at all.

“Maybe.. I don’t remember” He brushed off your coworkers presence and goes off to the kitchen, making you miss out on his daily affection when around this time.

“He seems nice!” Your coworker laughs awkwardly, wondering if you also picked up on the switch after seeing him.

“Yeah, he is”

As you and your coworker sit on the couch chatting your boyfriend is left grumbling to himself about this stupid visitor, and how he was ruining everything just by being here.

He was never this salty but the fact that someone was invading his territory, his own house, is bewildering to him. You didn’t even ask him if it was okay to bring someone over.

He sulks with his tail and ears low while stirring the tomato soup he made. He brings the bowls to the dinner table and calls you over, failing to have enough care in the world to address your friend as well.

“It’s really good! Did you add anything new this time?” You grin, dipping a quarter of your bread into your tomato soup before chewing then gulping it down.

“Yeah, some new seasonings” He mumbled unenthusiastically as he plays with his food, uselessly moving his spoon in the tomato soup he served himself.

His mood only sours further when he hears the wretched voice of your coworker trying to pipe in about how savory his cooking was. It only made him growl more under his breath.

Yandere puppy boy that cleans up after the two of you finish and wonders if your coworker is going to leave yet, dinner was over so what purpose did that guy have left to be here?

He’s so tempted to bite and punch him until he leaves but he knows he has to behave.

He’s so ecstatic when the idiot finally leaves and goes to his own home, where he should’ve had his dinner in the first place instead of interrupting the romantic dinner he could’ve had with you!

Yandere puppy boy that not only has jealousy problems but attachment issues specifically during his heat. He honestly can’t help it when he raids your underwear drawer looking for his favorite pair as soon as he starts feeling heat rise throughout his body.

It’s just so calming whenever he’s able to have your underwear with him as he pumps his cock with it until you finally come home.

He’s so needy that he’ll tear your clothes off so it’s easier, he can just buy you new work pants tomorrow anyways. He’s been meaning to buy you a new pair!

He can even make it up to you as he bends you over the couch armrest, lining up the head of his cock right against your hole before pushing slowly inside of you.

He gives you about 5 seconds to get used to his cock before he’s moving his hips, going at a slow pace at first. He loves how you already writhe at his touch when he runs his hands down your sides before using your hips as a handle.

He’s never usually this in control but during his heat he can’t help but want to provide everything for you. Especially when he can fuck these cute little moans out of you.

Yandere puppy boy that marks you with kisses and nips at your neck after bringing you close, turning those nibbles into love bites until he’s needily lapping at your skin. He knows you prefer when it’s not in obvious places but he can’t help but want to show people that you’re already taken.

His cock bumps up against a sensitive spot inside of you so many times while his balls slap against your squeezed thighs and your legs feel like jello even with the armrest that you used for support.

He’s bullying your sensitive hole with his fat cock making the regular skin slapping sound until you’re cumming around it, still getting fucked while a plap plap plap sound echos through the room. You dig your nails into the couch’s skin while you pant and hear his moans.

He pays no mind to the sounds unlike you, grunting as he continues his feverish thrusts into you, you just feel too good to stop now. Especially when you keep tightening against him like you want to suffocate his cock with your insides.

He’s able to handle another minute of being inside of you until his vision blurs as he reaches his high, spilling his seed inside of you as he blabbers about how much he loves you, tail wagging at speeds you only see during times like these.

Yandere puppyboy who’s so love sick he’ll run over during his break to your workplace to see what you’re doing. He won’t exactly directly visit but he’ll try to see what’s going on from the doors of your workplace.

He’s always been too nervous to come in without an excuse since you’d probably send him back to work. So he usually settles with the peeping at your office window until his breaks over.

And if he has an excuse it’s food related, bringing you lunch that you might’ve forgotten or just giving you more since he wanted to see how cute you looked focused on your work before noticing him.

Yandere puppy boy who’s just too obsessed with you <3

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trashmouth-richie · 6 months

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masterlist

eddie x fem reader

chapter summary: how sweet it is, to be loved.

series summary: You were desperate for a roommate after Nancy got married and moved out. An ad in the paper goes unanswered until someone comes knocking on the door.

special thanks: to anyone and everyone who read a single chapter or kept up with this series to the end, thank you so much- this story wouldn’t be possible without your support.

author’s note: I can’t believe this is the final chapter for this series, I’m feeling so many emotions right now but mostly just love for Eddie and Tooty and everything in between. Thank you to anyone who has helped me beta ( @sweetsweetjellybean especially!)this story or fan girled with me over upcoming chapters. To any of the very talented artists who have made any art for this series, thank you so very much, each and every piece holds such a special place in my heart. To anyone who is mentioned in this story, thank you so so much, @loveshotzz @chechelia @carolmunson @mopeymopeymouse and everyone else— thank you for allowing me to include you in this series. To everyone who has liked, rb’d left a comment or interacted in any way with this series— THANK YOU. This series has brought such joy & heartache to me, and I’m so lucky to have people enjoy it. 🖤

Cereal

Hotdogs

Bananas

Jelly —grape, not strawberry

Bread

Crackers

Toothpaste

Noodles

Chicken thighs— babe are you making fun of me?

Heartburn medicine

You tap the chewed cap of your pen along the lined paper of a scribble heavy grocery list. Desperately wishing you had x-ray vision to see inside your cabinets and remember what you were in need of, you chew the cap again.

Giggling to yourself every so often at Eddie’s notes on the grocery list. Crossing off items he thought weren’t needed, mostly vegetables he didn’t like. And always making sure you got his favorites. And not, “that healthy bullshit cereal, give me sugar or kill me babe, I will not eat Raisin Bran”

Peanut butter

Sunny D

Thyme

Heavy cream

Basil

Carrots

Onions

Chicken stock

Hey sweetheart can you please get me some candy? I like skittles but you know I love m&ms.. and twizzlers, it’s for the shop. :)

The lady behind the desk chirps a name again, but you are still racking your brain on what else was needed. The soup you had planned on making tonight would be perfect for the chilly weather rolling in. November was coming in like a lion, ferociously cold and temperatures already dipping below zero.

Eddie loved your potato soup, so much that he begged you to make it after another long, grisly week at the shop.

He loved everything you made, even your chili that he doctored up by adding sour cream and Doritos to it. Bon Appetit he would say with a smirk on his lips, a heaping bowl steaming in front of him.

The clerk behind the desk tutted and huffed, the schedule was getting behind.

“Tooty Munson! Is there a Tooty Munson here?”

You glance up quickly at the sound of your name, “shit,” you breathe, “here, yes,” you scramble shoving the list and pen into your purse, buried amongst the gum wrappers and a spilled container of tic-tacs.

The receptionist clicks her papers against the formica counter and holds her nose in the air, as if this job and you were beneath her.

“He’s ready for you now.”

—-

“…alright, Ed, did ya look o’er those applications yet? ‘Tween you D and Mike I don’t think we are going to be able to keep up everything that we got on the schedule.”

Wayne’s eyebrows are raised as he looks over the bifocals perched on his nose. He had been scouring over the schedules and the books for the better half of the afternoon since lunch hour—trying to figure out how to swing their overloaded schedule.

It wasn’t that they couldn’t do the work, they were simply short handed. After Boom closed his doors in Hawkins, he had recommended to his regulars that they travel to Bridgeport to Master Mechanics to see Eddie and Wayne. Business was booming, and the Munson’s could barely keep up.

Early on, Wayne and Eddie decided they would only be open until noon on Saturday’s but now with the packed schedule, they worked til almost dark every night of the week, including some Sundays.

Wayne rubs his short nails through his scratchy mostly white scruff, “we can’t have these boys workin’ like this, they’ll quit on us before you can slap a tick.”

Eddie was leaning against the doorway, a bottle of Coca Cola held limp in his hand, a greasy rag stuffed in his back pocket.

“Yeah,” he yawns, stretching out his back, “let’s hire ‘em all, we need the extra hands, or I’m gonna need an extra back.”

Wayne grunts in confirmation. The highlighter squeaks as it’s drug across the phone numbers on the applications, “I’ll call ‘em first thing in the morning,” he straightens up his desk and shoves the papers into a drawer.

His glasses clink as he folds them up and lays them next to a picture of the newlywed Munson’s. He leans back in his chair, the leather crinkling beneath his worn coveralls, “I’m callin’ it for the day,” he exhaled, staring up at the ceiling, “it’s been one helluva week and I’m shot, tell the boys to go home to their wives.”

“and you too,” he points, “go take care of your wife, Ed, tell her I hope she starts to feelin’ better.”

Eddie’s curls bounce as he nods his head, completely drained from the week, shit maybe he was getting sick too? “she went to the doctor today, probably just the flu, Max told her it was going around.”

“Well then,” Wayne says, standing up and clicking off the table lamp, “take tomorrow off and rest–

both of ya, hear me?”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.”

—

Eddie’s tires crunch on the ice and hard packed snow of the driveway, a silent serenity, meaning he is only moments away from holding you in his arms, seconds away from kissing your lips, and if he was lucky, minutes from eating something delicious to fill his grumbling stomach.

He throws the truck into neutral, killing the engine and tossing the keys around his finger. Tracks from your Jeep tires lead into the garage he had built last spring. A huge project that your friends were paid in beer and a bonfire when it was all finished.

Thrusting his sore hands into his canvas coat, he ducked his chin into the zipper and braved the asthma inducing gust of wind to the front door as it whipped through his curls.

The house was oddly quiet, only the hum of the refrigerator making any sort of sound. Usually when he came home you’d be playing the radio, or talking on the phone to Max or Nancy, greeting him with a pop of your head around the wall in the kitchen or from the hallway, the prettiest smile put on your lips.

“Princess?” he called out in endearment as he untied his boots and put them on the shoe rack. His coatwas already hanging on its hook, usually next to your purse but your purse was thrown onto the arm chair, and your shoes were in the hallway like you had walked right out of them.

He undid the buttons of his work blues, letting them hang at his waist like a mechanic cape. Socked feet trudge down the carpeted hallway, you must not be feeling any better, probably too exhausted to make it out of bed.

But Eddie was wrong.

You were perched on top of the comforter, coat still on but unzipped staring at the door waiting for his arrival, fuzzy socks on your wiggling toes.

“Hey, handsome,” you said, trying to keep your pitch even.

“There’s my girl,” his velvet voice wrapping around you like a hug as he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for your left hand and kissing the finger that adorned the prettiest ring he’d ever bought, “how’s my beautiful wife?”

It had been five months since you said I do. A June wedding in your own backyard, filled with friends who had served as family for years, gathered by your sides.

“I forgot the potatoes,” you say blankly, a weird little smile on your face.

Eddie sits down next to you, rubbing your thigh back and forth and letting out an exhausted yawn, “That’s alright, I can make us some grilled cheese if you’re up for—”

“I was looking at my grocery list, and couldn’t remember what I’d forgot.”

Eddie’s confused, but wants to reassure you that its no big deal, he’s a grown man he can certainly make supper for himself and his wife. “Sweetheart it’s okay, don’t beat yours—“

“Can’t make potato soup without potatoes.” And this time you laugh, kind of whimsically and in disbelief.

His brows turn inward, still he just keeps reassuring you that everything is fine, “It’s okay Tooty, seriously. Let me go make you some—”

And for the third time tonight, you interrupted him, “doctor said that’s normal.”

He’s exhausted and is honestly more confused than he would like to admit, “what? The flu?”

“No, no. “ you say, a twisted little smirk on your face, “forgetting things, throwing up in the morning, being exhausted… totally normal.”

“Babe?” He moves to touch the back of his hand to your head, wincing when he realizes that he’s probably freezing.

“I was so scared the last time,” you whisper, teary eyed, “terrified.. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but now—.”

Eddie reaches for your cheeks, holding them softly, his eyes searching yours, desperate to figure out what the hell is going on, “what am I missing here? It’s normal to have… the flu?”

“No, it’s not the flu,” you finally admit, looking up at him and rubbing the back of his hands with your thumbs,

“Eddie, I’m pregnant.”

—

You could fill an empty pool up from the tears that sprung from Eddie’s eyes that night. He was overjoyed, holding you tight while he wept into your hair. Kissing your belly and whispering to the baby. Small streaks of tears flowing down your swollen skin and the faded scar across your lower belly.

Each month that ticked by, Eddie’s worry only doubled.

The day after you had found out, he woke early. Watching as your chest rose and fell as you slept soundly in the original mock up of his hellfire shirt.

It was threadbare, cotton worn so thin it was practically see through— but you claimed it as your own back in the early days of your new relationship, hands on your hips and the infamous pout on your lip as you playfully argued with him about how it was now yours.

Dusk painted the diamond covered ground from the fresh snow over night. Falling as delicately as his lips allover your skin. Soaking up the dainty noises from your throat when he carefully slid into you, tears spilling from both of your eyelashes, love filling the room more sweetly than it ever had before.

The soft cotton of the blankets hugged your curves, and he exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he gazed down at his beautiful— now pregnant— wife.

His sweet Tooty, carrying a gift more precious than gold.

Kissing your cheek—he dressed quietly, scribbling a note on the bedside table about going into town for a bit, but to just relax in bed until he got home.

You were having a dreamless sleep, not even sugarplums could dance in your head with the overwhelming exhaustion that your body was trying desperately to catch up from.

Something cold then silky smooth brushed against your cheek, and a velvet voice sang a little good morning greeting into your ear. Your loving husband. Pressing sweet angel kisses behind your ear and on your eyelids.

Your bedroom was lit with the glow of a warm sun in the afternoon light. Playing a yellowed hue of warmth across your comforter, pulling the caramel color from Eddie’s curls and making his eyes look like a dreamy cup of coffee swirling with creamer.

His lips hug yours, both smiling into one another. Heart swelling more than your toes would in the months to come.

C’mon, got a surprise for you, princess.

The spare bedroom that was once a room for band equipment, then Max’s bedroom for almost a year before she eventually moved in with Gareth and Will, now held storage, was completely organized, and held a wide array of items.

A crib, brand new and still in the box, a pack n play, a swing, every box of diapers ranging from size 1 - 5, baby gates, outlet covers, fancy locks for cabinets and drawers, rubber bumpers for sharp corners and edges of tables.

A bookshelf full of baby books, how to’s for new parents, nursery rhymes by mother goose, books suggesting baby names and their meanings, and a guide on how to quit smoking.

Tucked into the corner of the room by the bookshelf and near the window, was a rocking chair.

“Eddie,” you gasp, running sleep from your eyes, “wh-what is all of this?”

He’s smiling ear to ear, trying to curb his enthusiasm a tiny bit. “I might have gotten a little carried away.”

Turning towards the shelf you see a plastic sack, full of candy and bubble gum, and mints. “Edward Joseph Munson.”

“Don’t scold me, mama,” he jokes, grabbing onto your hips and kissing your hairline, “I’m just spoiling our baby.”

God you loved this man, he’d break his neck to give you the world. He was the most loving husband, and now you got to see him step into a new role. One completely foreign to you both, only have shared the idea for a few moments before it was ripped away.

You lean into him, holding him tight and working your nose into the crook of his neck. “You’re gonna be the best dad, Eddie.”

He doesn’t hide the tear that slips down his cheek, just lets it slide and collect under his chin, his voice is quiet when he asks, “you really think so?”

“I know it.”

—

Wayne and Karen followed behind the new family in his pickup all the way home from the hospital. They were going to stay for a few days, help you both get adjusted to life as parents.

Karen and Nancy had filled your freezer with casseroles, soups and fresh bread. It was a hot July day when you were scheduled for the c section, and when it was all said and done four days in the hospital was more than enough and you were ready to be at home, snuggled up with your new family.

It was a battle of which Munson man could shed the most tears. Eddie and Wayne were both wiping away tears for hours. Overjoyed with emotions that everyone was healthy.

“No you don’t,” Wayne said as you reached for the back door to grab the diaper bag, “you go right inside and get comfy, get them legs up!”

You do as your told, leaving Wayne, Eddie and Karen to carry the load in. The hospital stay was overwhelmingly sweet, but you knew Eddie was itching to get back to normalcy, still not liking the way he felt cooped up in the hospital even though it had been years since you both had the horrifying visit.

Bags and suitcases are carried in and set into your master bedroom to be unpacked later, bottles and diapers are stacked and put into their respectable places. Karen starts warming up the chicken casserole she had prepared earlier that day. Wayne fussed around with the new dishwasher that he and Eddie had installed the month prior.

Throughout the commotion you had fallen asleep, legs propped up in the recliner, but you woke to the sound of the front door closing, and there he was.

Eddie was holding them both, large hands cocooned around their swaddled little bodies, crooked into each of his arms. Something he was nervous about but slowly getting the hang of, the nurses told him he was a natural, and Wayne wept into Karen’s shoulder when Eddie introduced the twins to their grandpa.

His normal obnoxious voice was murmuring low and quiet like a soft lullaby so as not to stir awake the sleeping little babies.

He looked at them both, adoration and tears springing into his eyes. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life. How he could have helped make something so small and delicate, he wouldn’t understand. But, he didn’t need to.

A boy, born first— with his dark eyes and brown hair, and later the little girl, almost identical to his Tooty, and just as stubborn, both already wrapped around his fingers.

He murmured their names, and caught your eye as he said it, a smile so wide on his face that you were sure new dimples would bust through his cheeks, and you only heard the end of what he was saying.

If you would have told yourself five years ago that you would one day own a home, get married to and have twins with Eddie Munson, you would have laughed on the spot. That loud mouth jackass of a guy you had once regretted letting move into your home, had moved right into your heart and never left.

The demons inside you both were finally at bay, finding solace in one another in more ways than you had thought possible. Being loved by Eddie was everything you had thought love should be like.

And you pinch yourself to make sure it's real, and each and every time, it is.

“…babies,” he says, a smile on his lips and tears in his eyes as he looks over at you, his family, “we’re home.”

The end

♡tag list: @dashingdeb16 @emxxblog @pretendthisnameisclever @mommybaby-witch @eddies-acousticguitar @tlclick73 @figmentofquinn @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @whenshelanded @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord * @leelei1980 @browneyes8288 @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiesxangel @elegantkoalapaper * @str4ngergirlw0rld * @corrodedcoffincumslut @nailbatanddungeon @crybabyddl @zenathebeautiful @astela17 @taintedcigs @bettyfrommars @munsonsuccubus @munson-blurbs @hollandweather @serasvictoria @steviesgrl @curiositydooropened @ashyyboyy @urlbitchin @sllooney @lame0o @ali-r3n @bangaveragewhitewine @b-irock @enam3l @luxaeterna13 @manda-panda-monium @elthreetimes @joejoequinnquinn

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #honey i’m home #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things

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kitchenwitchtingss · 9 months

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RECIPES I KEEP IN MY ONLINE KITCHEN WITCH JOURNAL #2

I love making these oh my gosh.

Why?

It's really fun

It's been a while since my last one

I get an excuse to try yummy recipes

You all are way too good at what you do

It's fun x2

Teas, Drinks, And Syrups

🍊 Orange Peel Tea 🍊

Violet Lemonade

Coconut Summer Drink

Dandelion Honey

The Best Hot Spiced Cider recipe you’ll ever try

Apple Cider is basically a homesteading spell

Rose Lemonade Syrup

100-Year Garlic (Garlic Honey)

Fire Cider Spell for Winter Protection

Blackberry & Apple Jam

Witchy Recipes - Blackberry Lemonade

Baked Goods + Sweets

Prosperity Bread

Lavender Earl Grey Cookies

Easy Rosemary Focaccia Loaf for Love and Protection

Heavenly Lavender Scones

Honey Vanilla Peach Butter 🍑

Pumpkin Pie Dip 🎃

Vanilla-Pumpkin Cupcakes

Soups, Stews, And Dinners

Super simple secret potato soup

Forest Porridge

Heartwarming potato soup

Perfect Homemade Garlic Bread

Creamy vegetable soup

Springtime Soup

Stuffed Maple dijon glazed roasted butternut squash

Summertime stir fry

Sabbat Stuff

Litha Orange Honey Cake

Litha Thyme Chicken

Stuffed Apples for Mabon

Mabon Mug

Imbolc Pretzel wreath

Oatmeal Bread for Lughnasadh

Samhain Mulled Cider

Samhain Irish Apple Cake

Angel's Best

(my favorite recipe posts I've made over the years, plus backstories that sound like your grandmother's reminiscing over the past.)

LATE WINTER BUTTER ROLLS

My first post I ever made. I was pretty new to the tumblr community at the time. I loved kitchen witchcraft, and I'm the type of person who will ramble on about how much I love cooking and baking. This blog gave me an outlet to express my love of cooking, baking, paganism, and witcraft. And these rolls are very tasty, I make them to this day!

WITCHY TOMATO BASIL SOUP

Tasty, simple, and a crowd-pleaser. It's perfect for a beginner kitchen witch! It was also the second recipe I ever posted.

SWEET CREAM BUNS

It was a recipe given to me by one of my good friends at the time. Every time I make it, it gets devoured in less than 10 minutes. It was also my first recipe to get over 50 notes. I was shocked but ecstatic that so many people would even give it the time of day lol.

WITCHY THUMBPRINT COOKIES

These ones were just fun to make and delicious lol.

A WITCH’S COZY BUTTERNUT WINTER SOUP

A quick soup that feeds a lot of people during the fall season. Fall is my favorite season, so of course I'm very biased lol.

SAMHAIN PUMPKIN BREAD

I love pumpkin bread and apple cider... So why not combine the two? This one was definitely one of my favorites of all time. Moist pumpkin bread and chocolate chips have to be one of my favorite things on this planet. It also makes for the perfect gift for friends and family. Yummy!

ANGEL’S AWARD-WINNING LEMON POPPY SEED BREAD

I love dessert loaves of any kind, so naturally, this would be on the list lol.

MAPLE BUTTER COOKIES

Super simple comfort food! I love any time of cookie with brown sugar.

BRING ME POSITIVITY PECAN FRENCH TOAST BAKE

I love French toast, and I love positivity~

SAMHAIN SOUL CAKES RECIPE

These are really good! And traditional. If you celebrate Samhain, I recommend you make some soul cakes and have friends and family help decorate. I give the littles a bag of orange frosting and let them go crazy lol.

FEEL BETTER CHICKEN SOUP

One of my most recent is my witchy twist on chicken noodle soup!

#witches #kitchen witch #witchy #witch #magick #kitchen witch recipes #food #recipes #witchblr #kitchen magick #foodblogger #sabbats #litha #kitchen witch tips #modern witch #modern witchcraft

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deathbecomesthem · 5 months

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Roomies 4 +18 ONLY

Eddie Munson x Best Friend Reader | 2.2K - Previous Part

*This series will/does contain smut, angst, and fluff. Each chapter will have its own warnings for any potential triggering contents.

This chapter contains some angsty feelings. The aftermath of some interesting choices between best friends.

---

The alarm is unnecessary. You didn’t sleep. You laid in this bed and let the dread build. At 3:28 in the morning, you put your vibrator back in its spot in the top drawer of your bedside table. It just laid next to you for hours, as if acknowledging it meant you had to acknowledge the fact that you and Eddie… what exactly? You don’t even know. It’s Eddie.

It doesn’t matter right now, because that alarm means you have to get up and take a shower. It means you have to get to the coffee shop and start the mundane tasks involved in over-caffeinating the general college town population. It means you can sneak out of this tiny, two-bedroom apartment before Eddie even wakes up. Thank god for the opening shift.

Except that you hear the distinct sound of the door next to your own open at exactly the same moment yours creaks open. Time stands still, both of you stare at each other like deer caught in headlights. Neither fight nor flight, only freeze. And then you realize you’re dressed in a too small bath towel and nothing else.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” you crouch a little, trying to get more coverage from the faded blue terry cloth rectangle you have wrapped around your center, “I thought you’d be sleeping. I’m sorry.”

Eddie averts his eyes after making a clean sweep from your head to your toes, and sighs, “shit, I’m sorry. I just need to take a leak. Uh, can I do that before you get in there?” Eddie’s eyes are focused on a small water spot on the ceiling waiting for your answer. The nightlight in the hallway outlet is the only illumination, but plenty to see the way the apples of his cheeks are turning tomato red.

“Yeah, I’ll wait in here,” you rush back to your room and close the door a little too hard and cringe away from it. The time spent sitting cold and naked on the edge of your bed is plenty to consider the regrets. Eddie’s seen you in your bikini, which leaves less to the imagination than the towel, but things are different.

“All clear. Have fun!” Eddie’s voice calls through the door at you, and you can imagine the grimace on his face at his own words. “Sorry, I’m just gonna go back to bed now.” You wait in your spot until you hear his heavy footsteps move past your door, and the sound of his door closing.

What the fuck did I do. I ruined everything, that’s what I did. This is the first time you think this today, but it will be the mantra that echoes in your mind over and over. What the fuck did I do?

—

Dry skim milk cappuccino, breve latte, dirty chai, black eye. The drinks don’t stop coming for hours, and you're happy to shut off your mind while you make the espresso machine perform for you. You ignore the way your hands tremble, over caffeinated and under rested, they still move and answer your requests without fail. Muscle memory, what a gift.

“You taking your break?” Megan points to the clock behind your head. You’ve been standing at the barista station for 4 hours, and you’ve only got 2 left for the day. You consider pushing through to the end, but can already hear your manager’s voice reprimanding you when she looks at your timecard.

“Yeah, I’ll be back in 30.” You wipe the frothing wand and rinse out the portafilters before heading to the food station for a bowl of chicken soup and a half of a stale mini baguette. Whole wheat and hard as a rock. The table in the corner is empty, so you make a bee line, grabbing a discarded campus newspaper on your way.

You tick down stray answers in the crossword while dipping, letting the bread soak up the broth from your soup when the next page catches your eye. The classifieds. Apartment rentals. It can’t hurt to look, you think. You’d never leave Eddie in a lurch, but what if you could find something next month, let him find someone to replace you. He’d be better off anyway. He’s too sweet to say it, but it’s true.

You ignore the small voice in the back of your mind that’s yelling, this is what you always do. You run away and miss out on good things because you get scared. But you’re not just scared, you’re humiliated. A part of you thought that your little display last night would end with Eddie in your bed. That he’d know instinctively that you want him, and he’d answer your call without you having to actually say anything.

Stupid, stupid, stupid child.

Looking for a female roommate, no pets, 3 bedroom apartment, $175/month. You circle that one. Close to campus, nonsmoking, one bedroom unit, $250/month. A little out of your price range, but you circle it anyway.

By the end of your lunch break you’ve got 6 leads on available apartments, a half eaten soggy baguette, and a bottomless pit of regret in your stomach.

—

Eddie slept, but was plagued with dreams of your smiling face. That’s all that he can remember - your face accompanied by a deep longing to reach out and touch your skin. He never could, he just kept seeing and wanting, but never reaching. When he woke up for work at 11:00 in the morning, you were sitting in that corner booth at the coffee shop looking for apartments. It would break his heart to know that.

But he doesn’t know that. He knows that he fucked up last night, even if it’s not clear how. Or why. Or what happened. If something happened. Did something happen, or did he just imagine it? Fuck this fucking noise. His mind is too busy, and it’s not saying anything that makes sense. He wants to sit down and talk with his best friend about it. Let them help make sense of things. He wants to sit with you, his head resting in your lap while you run your fingers through his hair, and tell him he’s thinking about it all wrong. He’s overthinking. It’s not as bad as he thinks.

The fact that he can’t talk to you right now means it is that bad, but he it’s useless to wallow. His work shift at the bar located beneath the hardwood floorboards of your shared apartment ends early. He’s going in before opening to do some handyman work in the bathrooms, and the prep work for the evening crew. He takes the opportunity to not work until 3:00 a.m. whenever he can, especially when Marty offers to pay him cash under the table for his troubles. It also means he can go to the good grocery store, the one that isn’t the shitty 24 hour foodmart that’s the only open joint in the tri county area at 3:30 in the morning. The peanut butter is low, and he wants to grab a can of Maxwell House - a part of him thinks he insists on keeping it in the house just to get under your skin. No Kenya AA or Brazilian Peaberry for Eddie Munson.

So, he does his work and lets his mind leave him for the hours he snakes, caulks, screws, scrubs, chops, and peels. He works in the peaceful silence of the still slumbering college town bar, and walks out several hours later with a handful of cash and grease jammed under his fingernails. The echo of your voice saying his name, Eddie!, at the height of your pleasure the night before only made his feet stumble a few times. He can let it get quieter and quieter. He can let himself forget it. What he can’t do is let one night of stupid behavior ruin something the two of you have spent over a decade building. Pussy comes, and pussy goes - but you are forever.

Pussy comes and pussy goes. He thinks again to himself. He ignores what that small voice in his head adds, but what he wouldn’t give to be able to touch you and make you his.

—

You finally come home at 5:00. It’s much later than you should be going back to the apartment. You spent the interim hours wandering the streets of downtown looking for any “For Rent” signs displayed in apartment windows. You wasted time in the used book store, running your fingers along the spines of the Science Fiction paperbacks. You sat in the arm chair in the back of the shop and looked at the battered collection of Baby-Sitter’s Club books while your eyes grew heavy. And then you decided that the only thing left to do was face the music. Of all days for Eddie to not be closing down the bar.

Eddie’s in the shower. When you open the door to the apartment, you can hear the faint sound of water running from behind the closed bathroom door. A vision of wet curls and rivulets of water running down sharp shoulder blades invades your mind for a split second, but you will it away with a sharp shake of your head. You’re tired, and you think you might be able to get away with a long evening nap that can turn into a night spent alone in your bedroom without any complaints from Eddie. Maybe.

You spot the note as you’re hanging up your purse. It sits on the small kitchen table, red ink impossible for you to miss, in that scrawling chicken scratch that’s so familiar.

Not sure when you’ll be home, and if I’ll be around. I ran to the grocery store earlier. I got that wine you like and grabbed a couple of cannoli. You can have 2 of them. Just 2. I swear to god, if you eat my cannoli, I will hunt you down. There’s some de-icer on the counter, since you’re incapable of getting it yourself. I grabbed your library loans while I was out. We can grab some dinner tonight if you’re up for it.

-E

You stand holding the paper in your hand for a long time. You don’t know how long. You see the bottle of Malbec sitting on the far end of the counter next to a yellow spray bottle of de-icer. You don’t notice that the sound of the water coming from behind the bathroom door has stopped. You’re lost. Overwhelmed. You think about the time you spent furiously looking for an apartment. You think about how badly you wanted to run away - from what? From this? From Eddie? How could you ever want to run from him?

You’re still staring at his sloppily written words while you drift down the hallway. You don’t even hear the sound of the bathroom door open. When you glance up, you see Eddie. The man that bought you treats today. The man that has stepped between you and flying fists. The man that offered you a home when you didn’t have one.

In the 5 seconds you look at him, your eyes see more than should be possible. His wet curls cling to his shoulders, drops of water traveling from their tips down his chest. Black ink and splatterings of freckles and moles. The towel, too small - just like your own - sits low enough on his hips that your eyes can travel along his happy trail and into that meadow of abundant wiry hair peeking out. His feet, long and flat, stay planted in their spot. He waits for you to look away, but his eyes stay fixed to your face. His chest does not flush, he does not attempt to hide himself.

When your eyes finally flick to the wall, Eddie makes his way towards you. You’re frozen in your spot, but your mind is racing. He’s going to come to me. He’s going to let me touch him. You think about kissing his chest, letting your tongue catch the stray drops of water left behind by the showerhead. But Eddie moves beside you, he passes you by. You can smell Irish Spring and tap water. Your shaking hand reaches for the door handle.

“So, what do you think? Dinner?” Eddie’s standing at his door, a wide smile on his face. Your favorite smile. “Unless you’ve got a hot date or something?” He twists the knob, but doesn’t move to go into his room, waiting for your answer.

Nothing is the same, but everything is the same. From here on out, the only way this will work is utilizing double-thought. Letting two things be true at one time. Eddie is your best friend. Eddie is a man that your whole body aches for. These are two true things that matter, but one of those truths can only exist in the darkness of your bedroom. One of those things can only be acknowledged when you’re alone for fear of ruining the most important thing in your life.

“Sure, Ed. Chinese and cannoli. Roll a couple of joints.”

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine

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what-even-is-thiss · 5 months

Note

european here (genuinely curious): in reference to your “american home-cooked food isn’t just fast food, it’s a lot like french/italian food” post, could you give some examples? I don’t know what foods are american home staples, but your post piqued my interest

Well stews and soups for one. When I read recipes for stuff like beef bourguignon it’s quite familiar to me. Less wine perhaps but the principles of the dish are similar.

Italian-American food often also makes for easy quick food on weeknights. Pasta is something that can be just as easy or complicated as you want. You can make it from scratch at every step or just make sauce from canned ingredients and boxed pasta. Tomato paste, flour, pasta, and dried herbs are staples in most kitchens. Pretty much every household has their own way of making pasta sauces.

Roasts are popular during the winter. Both roasted veggies and roasted meat. Potatoes are popular year round but in the summer things like potato salad or fries or bagged chips are more common than stewed, mashed, or boiled potatoes.

Americans commonly cook with butter and olive oil, though canola oil is cheaper. In recent years though there’s been health questions about canola oil and some people only use it for deep frying now.

French cream sauces are pretty similar to American white gravy which we make with cream instead of milk. We do also make white sauce too and will put it on most things. I find it especially good on pizza instead of red sauce. A lot of people also put it on pasta or vegetables.

A lot of the way we eat potatoes is pretty similar to some French dishes. What we call scalloped potatoes is very similar to a French dish called potatoes au gratin. Not identical, but extremely similar.

Stuff like French onion soup and duck a l’orange is also decently popular here even if not everyday food and are things you’d more commonly make yourself than buy from a restaraunt.

French style breads and pastries are also quite popular here. Baguettes are common things to cut up to eat with dip. Croissants with coffee are common things to eat for a small breakfast or an afternoon snack. French style breads both sweet and not are also common breads used for sandwiches. Italian style coffee is also more and more popular these days but that wasn’t true until relatively recently.

A lot of similarities really lie in the ingredients we use. We often cook things in butter for example. Or add flour to stews to thicken them. Or add milk to things. Or use wine to deglaze pans for the flavor.

A lot of home cooking in the US is affected by other immigrant populations. Tacos or curry are staples in my diet for example. But when you get down to more traditional comfort food it’s potatoes, cream sauces, stews, herbs, roasts, and pasta. Stuff that’s not identical to French or Italian cooking but is very heavily influenced by it.

TLDR: It’s butter!

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taytrashmouth · 3 months

Note

Hi, I was wondering if you could pleaseee do prompt 8 for a peeta x reader. I was thinking this would be set way after the second rebellion where it's basically just peeta and the reader left in district 12. thank you!

Prompt 8: taking care of each other when they’re sick.

Peeta would 100% be the sweetest when yo were sick!omg! Enjoy :)

Requests are open!! Please send them in!

Disease used to be one of the main causes of death in district 12, but now after the war it was hardly ever seen. There was nobody to catch or spread illnesses except you and Peeta.

The only reason you got sick was because you had insisted on staying out in the rain. It was grounding, like the only threat left was the deep rumbling of the sky.

“I knew you’d get sick.” Peeta spoke groggily as he woke up from your coughing. “I’m sorry.” You spoke and realised you even sounded sick.

“I’ll go make tea to clear your head.” Peeta stretched as he got out of bed, turning the bedside lamp on.

‘Peeta don’t be ridiculous it’s two in the morning.” You sounded terrible.

He waved a hand in dismissal and left the room forgetting to close the door behind him.

You fell asleep at some point, it must have been a while because the clock now read 4:30 and Peeta still wasn’t back yet. As if on que he walked into the room with fresh bread,chamomile tea and chicken soup . Which was accompanied by some cough syrup and wild flowers that he must have gone to pick.

You sat up. “peeta..” you felt like crying.

He climbed back into bed, kissing your head and cuddling next to you.

“You’re perfect. thank you.” You whispered. Dipping some bread I the soup.

“Anything for you.”

The rest of the day consisted of Peeta forcing you to stay in bed, he cooked more food and even called Effie to send you your favourite chocolate from the capitol.

“Peeta you’ll get sick.” You frowned pushing him away from your lips.

“Yeah I guess so..” he stepped back for a moment before tackling you and smothering you with kisses.

You looked at him with a disappointed look and he just smiled at you.

“Worth it.” He whispered as he kissed you again. You eventually couldn’t help but smile at his adorable behaviour

Sure enough by the end of the week he was sick too. “I told you so.” Was all you said when you woke up at 6AM because of his cough.

He looked much worse than you had. (Man flu obviously)

You made him his favourite foods- or tried to, you weren’t the cook in this relationship. You ran him a warm bath and washed his hair for him while you sang. You read to him as he fell asleep on your chest.

“I love you.” He mumbled as he drifted to sleep. You kissed him goodnight and when he woke up in the morning you had made him hot cocoa with orange sprinkles (his favourite colour). And built a fort around the bed.

He smiled when he saw you enter. “Now you can have fun without moving.” You smiled. To which he replied with a kiss.

#y/n #peeta mellark #peeta mellark x reader #peeta x reader #the hunger games peeta #peeta supremacy #peeta mellark x reader fluff #thg peeta #team peeta #peeta my beloved #thg series #thg fanfiction #thg #the hunger games

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cherrryxx · 6 months

Text

“Blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine,”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

(Song: ‘Cherry Wine’ by Hozier)

SANJI X MALE/GN READER

Summary: Sanji takes care of reader after they get sick from the cold weather.

Warnings: Fluff, domestic fluff, established relationships, Sanji is an absolute prince, male reader, minor sickness, can also be read as GN reader, some pet names (honey, love, etc)

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

You coughed as you sat up in the creaking bed, groaning as you felt the light pierce your eyes like knives.

Sanji yawns as he wakes beside you, his arm finding it’s way around your waist.

“Good morning, darling.”

Sanji yawns again, stretching his legs out a bit. He opened his eyes, noticing your ill state.

“Love, you look sick. What’s wrong?”

He questions you, sitting up and inspecting your face. Placing his hand on your forehead he feels the hot fever.

“Oh hell! You’re burning up!” Sanji comments with worry, “It’s probably because that stupid Luffy had you go out in that cold yesterday! Tsk!”

“It’s really okay,” you try to insist, but sneeze right afterwards.

Sanji huffs, “No, you’re staying in bed today, sir. I’m going to make you some soup and tea, and send Chopper down here to give you a check-up. Now stay!”

You groan in complaint but remain in the bed as Sanji left to make you food.

A few minutes later the door creaked open and you could hear the soft clacking of Chopper’s hooves. He scurried to the side of your bed and struggled over the edge.

Huffing, Chopper said, “You really do look sick y/n.” He took his paw and gently patted your forehead before taking your temperature.

Chopper made a face of surprise upon seeing it and scolded you, “Y/n! You why didn’t you come to me sooner!” He dug through his bag and handed you a small bottle.

“Drink this! You should feel better in a few days!”

You take the bottle and thank Chopper, giving him a soft pat on the head before sending him off.

After the door closed again, you inspected the bottle. The fluid inside was a soft purple color, and it smelled rather good. You quickly drank it, gagging when you realized how terrible it tastes.

Just as you tossed the empty bottle into a nearby barrel, Sanji walked into the room. On his arm was a large round plate with a dish of soup, bread, tea, and water. Your mouth watered from the smell alone.

“Chicken gnocchi soup, with my own special touches, and some mint tea to help your throat.” Sanji explained softly, setting the food down on the bedside table.

“Are you well enough to feed yourself?” Sanji asked genuinely, but with a coy undertone.

You scoffed, “Yes Sanji, I can lift a spoon to my mouth and eat.”

He sighed, as if he was hoping he could feed you the food he made. Your stomach grumbles as you look at the bowl of warm soup.

Carefully, you lift the spoon to your mouth and take a bite, melting from the deliciousness of it.

“Mmmmm, ‘s good.” You mumble with the spoon in your mouth. Your throat felt soothed already from the savory soup broth.

Sanji chuckled, “Of course.”

You ate almost all of your soup in a few minutes, saving a few drops to dip your bread in. The loaf was soft and warm, soaking in the broth of the mouthwatering soup well.

Once you were done with your food and began sipping the minty tea, Sanji cleared the dishes quickly and returned to the room.

“Do you feel better, love?”

You place down the cup of tea gently on the nightstand and rub the back of Sanji’s head affectionately, “Yes, I feel much better honey.”

Sanji grinned happily as you ran your hand through his golden blond hair, pausing to linger on his neck as you let out a soft sigh and lean close to him. You rest your forehead on his chest and before you know it you’ve fallen back asleep.

“Ohhh, what am I to do with you?” Sanji sighs affectionately.

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thelampisaflashlight · 6 months

Text

Some random ghoul thoughts to dip in your soup like extra bits of bread. Let's go.

-Dew never actually transitioned to fire (he's a hybrid, he never needed to undergo a complex rite to gain his talents), that's a lie the ministry told to make sure nobody contested his place in the project, because even if the human members of the clergy wouldn't think it's particularly weird to have a water ghoul playing guitar, it's more so a holdover from the pack hierarchies of the pit.

Sure, the band ghouls don't give a shit, but the regular summons? The ones that didn't make the cut because they lacked the skills despite being an elemental match?

It would be chaos.

So Dew plays the part and plays it well, but, at the end of the day?

Dew is a lot less "fiery" than he acts, and, quite frankly, he'd rather not have to be "in charge" or pretend like he wants to be.

He just wants to vibe in the mud with Mountain and Rain.

And, lastly;

-Quintessence ghouls are really good at getting in people's heads, but terrible at getting out of them.

Once they make a connection, it doesn't go away easily.

Omega learned this the hard way, and it's part of why he needed to retire, because it turns out the only way to "turn it off" is to prevent the person on the other end from ever having a thought again.

#lamp rambles #shitghosting #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #omega ghoul #ghost band #ghost bc #the band ghost #ghost band headcanons #nameless ghoul headcanons

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the-kr8tor · 6 months

Note

hi, hello!

since it's getting colder and colder in the name of fluffy fridays i wanted to ask for hobie and gn!reader cooking some comfort food together. like making a warm soup while being all domestic with eachother

love your writing and hope you're doing well!! <3

Adorable 🥰 thank you for requesting!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (Hobie is mentioned taller than r though) cw food mention, FLUFF

It's Fluffy Friday!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

"I swear to god, Hobie put it down" you point at him, wiggling your finger for emphasis. Hobie has his hands around a bag of cornstarch, mischievous eyes settling on your furrowed brows, his smirk challenging your pout.

"It's not thick enough" he says even though the tomato soup is clearly thick enough inside the boiling pot.

Hobie has been a great help in preparing dinner, even though you insisted you make it yourself especially when he's still tired and aching from his patrol. You let him, it's not like you could win when he asked so nicely, complete with a shower of his kisses.

Crisp autumn air breezes past the open windows, trees rustling in the cool wind. The scented candles you've lighted makes the atmosphere much more relaxing.

After a brief banter on which soup to make, you two settled with some homemade tomato soup and grilled cheese cooked to perfection. Already done with his sandwiches, bread golden brown, melted cheese oozing out from the side, it all smells heavenly; your stomach rumbles at the thought of finally biting into it. Antsy, he has the bright idea to tease you and your soup. Hobie knows exactly what he's doing, skilled enough in the kitchen— he just wants to get a rise out of you.

"You said that last time! You made it all clumpy" you say while trying to wrangle the bag from his hand.

Hobie raises it up away from your reach. Your face dangerously close to his, free hand over your hip, bare skin tingling where your jumper hitched up.

"What do I get if I give it to you?" He says with a playful smirk, you already know what he's asking for in exchange for the cornstarch that's directly on top of the pot, threatening to spill over.

"Kiss?" You place your palm over his heart, that always works on him.

He tilts his head, eyes on the ceiling, pretending to think about your offer. It's not like you don't kiss him, quite the opposite actually, you make the effort to give it a hundred times over.

Hobie bites his lip like he has nothing to do but accept your oh so terrible offer. "Deal"

You snort, hand placed on his jaw, affectionately rubbing the growing stubble over it. Pretending to lean towards his lips, you snatch the bag from him, saving the soup from turning into a dip like consistency.

"Aha!" You shake the bag in your hand, seeing Hobie with a half pout, frozen, still waiting for the kiss.

"You shouldn't have done that" He readies his stance, lunging at you with a smirk, dark eyes staring back. Yelping, you skedaddle away with a laugh.

It's safe to say your dinner has gone cold.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

Text

I've been dreaming of the Benevolent Sovereign of the Oasis.

Sun and shadow. Two existences, locked in a perpetual cycle, unable to be without the other.

It hurts to part ways, but reunion is that much sweeter.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

His eyes flutter open, and the instant his awareness hits, so, too, does the lightning in his veins. He throws his covers off and scrambles out of bed. His phone is in his hand in seconds, the calendar app opened.

It's just as he anticipates.

“Today’s the day!!”

Kalim's exhilarated shout stirs the entire mansion. Various hired help glance up from their tasks—private chefs in the middle of their prep work, housekeepers tending to the laundry, gardeners watering the flowers—and tut or sigh.

"There goes the young master again," they’d murmur amongst themselves. "He's so excitable."

It's not an unusual occurrence, but this time is especially special. The notice had gone out months in advance, the most skilled laborers called in from all corners of the world for the event. He had counted down the days, cancelled all his meetings.

Just for this.

Kalim breaks into a sprint down the corridor, his sandaled feet pounding the polished floors. He skids around a corner and continues his frantic pace, almost knocking over a valet. The servant stumbles, but Kalim grabs his hands and pulls him up into a spin.

"It's today, it's today!!" he squeals, earning a blank stare from the valet.

"Yes, sir. The staff are all aware. The preparations are well underway, so you needn't be concerned."

"Gahahah, everyone's already hard at work this early in the morning!" Kalim’s boisterous laugh bounces off the high ceilings. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh no, please leave the work to us... Y-Young master? Young master, where are you going?!"

"I'm going to check up on some things, don't mind me!!" Kalim calls back. He has already taken off, leaving the valet stunned.

"... Well, he's certainly become more proactive."

Kalim sticks his head into the dining room. The table is large enough to host his entire family plus several guests, but today it is set only for two. The seats are intimately situated across from one another, their best plates, silverware, and cloth napkins set out to welcome the diners.

The centerpiece, an ice sculpture of a viper with its hood flared out, sparkles in the morning sunlight. It would be a puddle by now, had it not been enchanted to never melt.

Servants are busy setting up a banquet: crisp vegetables, steamed fish, crusted breads, seasoned meats. His stomach tosses uncomfortably when he passes the seven kinds of curry laid out in a row--but he reassures himself with the reminder that his guest is sure to love them.

The kitchen didn't skim on the beverage selection either. There are sparkling juices, rich soups, spiced coffee, and black tea, accompanied by a large pot of white sugar with which to sweeten it. For dessert, fresh fruits (no dates!), flaky layered pastries, ice-creams, and cakes dipped in sugar syrups, topped with crushed pistachios and candied orange peels.

"Care to sample, sir?" a servant asks Kalim. They offer a trey of appetizers, each with an odd stone-colored dollop.

He obliged, popping one into his mouth. "Mmm! What's this gray stuff? It's delicious!"

"The head chef's secret recipe, young master. He thought to bring it out of his recipe cards today in honor of the celebration."

"Wow, he's really going above and beyond for this!!" Kalim glances at his staff. Now the orchestra is filing in with their instruments, and a massive roast duck on a bed of fried garlic and scallions is being laid out on the table. Another team is stringing up lanterns, and a skilled animal tamer enters, hauling a crate of colorful parrots. "Everyone is. I really appreciate it.

"... Oh, hey!" He snaps his fingers, a spark in his eyes--as though he has just come up with a great idea. "I know! Since you've been putting your all into this, I think it's only fair you get to get off work early and have a chance to relax too!"

"Erm, sir--that's very generous of you, but we aren't even done setting things up yet. The decorations especially..."

"It's fine, I've got this!" Kalim turns to the rest of the workers calls out, waving his arms. "Hey, everyone! You're free to go! Grab some nice food from the kitchen on your way out. I can handle the rest!"

The staff look confused, but not one of them protests. Some shrug and immediately exit, others anxiously wait for their peers to go before they follow. Before long, the room is cleared.

"Alright, let's do this...!"

Kalim produces his magical pen and waves it in an arc. Golden sparkles rain down, animating nearby objects.

Plates, forks, spoons, and knives march to the long table themselves. Flowers settle into crystal vases. Banners and lanterns float up, pinning themselves in place.

There we go.

"Squawk, squawk, squawk!!"

Kalim follows the cacophony to the cage of parrots left behind by the animal tamer. They're scrambling around, looking longingly at the decorations that had been raised to the ceiling.

He brightens with understanding. "Oooh, I get it! You want to get out and stretch your wings too!"

Kalim hesitates, turning the choice over in his head. "'Hmm, well... Technically, you're not supposed to be released until he gets here."

A showy spectacle--that is how Kalim envisions it. A whirlwind of flashy feathers to welcome him back. But the longer he looks at the wide, wet eyes of the parrots, the more the sadness swells in his chest.

Poor little guys, bound to a cage.

"... Okay, I've decided! You can come out and stretch your wings, I'll just need you back on the ground before the big surprise. Then you can fly all you want when he gets here."

Kalim kneels, fiddling with the lock on the cage. The door easily slides open, and--

FLAP, FLAP, FLAP!!

The entire flock rushes out, sending Kalim flying back onto his bum. He braces against the powerful beating of wings, the talons and beaks nearly scraping his skin.

A voice cuts through the noise.

"Kalim!"

Someone tackles right into him, forcing him to the ground. The world violently tilts, and suddenly Kalim is staring at a ceiling swarming with golden lights and a vaguely shaped shadow looming over him.

"I thought you had matured a little since I departed, but it looks as though you still have your moments where you're hopeless without me. I didn't think the first thing I'd do when I got back was protect you, but here we are."

He blinks rapidly. His vision slowly corrects, lines drawing together and forming a crisper image.

That face.

He recognizes it.

His old friend, dressed in sandals, khakis, and a bright yellow T-shirt embroidered with pink tropical flowers. He wears a cap that resembles a cartoon character--a dog with floppy black ears. The man had entered with suitcases, which were dropped by the door the instant he jumped to Kalim's defense.

"Jamil...!"

Kalim yanks him into a hug. His face turns, tears welling in his eyes. "Y-You came!! And you came so early...!!"

"Of course I did. I promised you I'd return home after my travels," Jamil sighs, patting his emotional friend's back. "I was planning on surprising you first, but..."

He gives the dining room and its extravagant flourishes a glance. Parrots are roosting in the banners, popping the balloons, or stealing vegetables and fruit from the flatters.

"... It looks like you've beaten me at my own game," he says tactfully.

"Yeah!" Kalim sniffs, wiping at his tears. "I... I wanted to welcome you home with a huge celebration!!"

"... Idiot. I didn't come back for any of this. Not food, not music, not pets, not decorations. There's one thing that the Scalding Sands has that no other place in Twisted Wonderland does: my best friend."

"Awww, Jamil...!" Kalim's eyes wet again. He lets out a happy sob, reburying his face in Jamil's shoulder. "It's good to have you back!!"

He sighs deeply. Despite this, Jamil still manages a smile. "It's good to be back with you, Kalim."

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