#potential dishes on the menu:

[entropii]

Cooking Signet

#nothing is wrong everything is fine signet is making you a meal #project hadea #project hadea mc #my art #signet #potential dishes on the menu: #hearty vegetable soup #spinach salad with tomatoes shallots spring onions lemon juice and feta #cucumber slivers dressed in fermented black bean sauce and chili garlic sauce #simple tofu slices topped with a soy cilantro spring onion and ginger sauce #braised chicken thigh with tomatoes onions capers and mushrooms #roast duck with a vinegar and garlic dipping sauce #beef stew made with soy sauce and star anise carrots and potatoes #egg with tomato garlic and spring onion #homemade mantou (freshly steamed) #etc. etc.

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter one

summary: leaving your old life behind, you move to copenhagen to follow your dream of opening a restaurant. almost a year after opening, luca's quest for inspiration brings him right to your doorstep.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2500

a/n: remember when i said we'd get pastry chef luca fanfic whether we liked it or not? well, it seems i can't be normal about anything bc i have an outline of (potentially) 10 chapters right now based on this headcanon. while i try to keep reader characters pretty neutral so that you can picture yourself, i have this reader creating food from her own life experiences/cultures so do what you will with that. also, i tagged some peeps from my headcanon post, but please let me know if you'd like to be removed.

masterlist | part two

He’s in search of inspiration when he finds the restaurant – your restaurant. 

It’s an American stagiaire and a single conversation that makes him realize that he’s missing something – that he’s been in need of something fresh, a new perspective– setting him on his quest. 

The best things are inspired. 

Luca stares at a blank piece of paper for what feels like hours, writing a few things down, sketching up an idea, before viciously crossing them out, hopelessly stuck on new ideas for the new menu. After a few half-baked ideas that go nowhere, It occurs to him that he may be in need of a little inspiration himself. He can’t think of the last time he’s taken his own advice, mulling over the carefully-chosen words of wisdom imparted to Marcus a couple of weeks ago, and he’s determined to change that. 

A review in the paper, an old colleague’s recent trip there, and a glowing recommendation from a close friend are what bring him to the restaurant. 

He’s not sure what to expect – having forgone any interest in cuisine described with the words trendy or fusion a long time ago – but Luca reminds himself that it’s the writer’s word choice, not the chef’s, when writing the article. 

When Luca steps into the small home-turned-restaurant, he’s immediately inundated with a warmth, a homeyness, that takes him by surprise. From the open kitchen, to the golden lighting, it feels vastly different from the classic Danish-style, fine dining establishments that have swept the country. 

But Luca reminds himself that the announcement of noma’s 2024 closure, has shifted the conversation around dining culture in Denmark, and already, he can feel that this is the breath of fresh air that he’s been looking for. 

Luca’s seated quickly with care and hospitality by a highly-attentive host, which he only assumes is a symptom of the fact that he read somewhere that you’re an American. While Danish, the host is boisterous, as if he’s known Luca since childhood. Luca smiles politely in response, graciously thanking the man and his chocolate brown curls. 

The menu is small, indicating that each dish receives enough care to be excellent and he likes that, despite being described as trendy and fusion-focused, your menu is creative. It’s different. It’s inspired. 

He chooses the special of the day: the mapo tofu bolognese – a traditionally Italian concept done from an Asian perspective – and the suggested wine pairing.

It doesn’t take long for him to receive his glass of wine, or his food, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how efficient service seems. Stealing glances through the open kitchen, he watches as you and your sous lead dinner service with a kind of compassionate leadership and playfulness that warms him from the inside out. 

“We recommend mixing the whipped tofu into the dish for a creamier sauce. Skal,” his waitress greets, with a warm smile on her face as she sets down the bowl of noodles. 

“Cheers,” Luca replies, his eyes savoring every single detail of the dish. 

It’s somehow elevated, thoughtful, and elegant, yet comforting all at once. 

Luca picks up his fork, using it to collect a little bit of everything – a perfect noodle twirl with just enough sauce, and ground pork before running his fork the whipped topping – raising the fork to his lips for his first bite. 

As the flavors hit his tongue, he closes his eyes, and it’s as if time has stopped, just for a moment. 

The wheat noodles are perfectly al dente while the whipped tofu is almost ricotta-like, transforming into a silky smooth addition to the dish, cutting the tingle and heat of the Sichuan chili peppercorn-based sauce. 

The corners of his lips turn up as he takes a breath, opening his eyes as he savors the delicate layers of flavors. With a crooked smile on his face, he decides that he’ll most certainly be back next week. 

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

You make peace with the fact that tonight is one of those nights – a slow night – as you finish washing your hands. It being a slow night, you’d encouraged your staff to up the hospitality at the pre-shift meeting. Treating guests with the utmost personal touches in an effort to build genuine connections would be the focus of tonight’s slow service. In fact, you and Mathilde, your sous chef, had been running dishes out this evening – something you rarely had the luxury to do. 

“You should go say hello,” your sous encourages, nodding towards the dining room through the expansive window of the open kitchen. 

“Thought it was your turn,” you reply in a casual tone, paying no attention to who she’s referencing.

“No, I think you should take this one,” Mathilde nudges you, causing you to look up. You shoot her a funny look, your eyes flickering over the mischievous expression she has on her face, to where she’s gestured towards. 

“To-?” you begin to ask, before seeing exactly who she’s talking about.

“Ehm. Tall, blonde, and tatted!” she emphasizes in a whisper yell. 

You don’t really need the description as you glance over at the dining room, easily spotting the man seated at a two-seater near the front window.

“You’re right. He’s become a bit of a regular,” you agree with a curt nod that means all business, no pleasure, as you move a few things as you walk and talk around the kitchen, tidying up.

“That’s not what I meant,” she scoffs with a playful eye roll. 

“You know, Jesper thought he was Swedish because… look at him… but he’s apparently a Brit,” she gossips with you, her eyes stealing a glance his way. “We’re slow tonight. He’s here every week. Sure he’d appreciate a direct thank you from the chef!” 

“I-,” you hesitate, wondering why she’s so damn insistent on this. “... yeah, alright. I’ll go.”

“That’s my girl!” Mathilde cheers, in a sing-song voice, she hands you the beautifully plated bowl of pasta to take out to the dining room.

As you walk over towards his table, you make a note that it seems as if the mystery man has made this a bit of a routine. He shows every Saturday at exactly 7 pm, week after week, for the past month or so, as if it’s a standing date he has with himself. After his first visit, you half-expected him to bring a date when he returned, or bring a group of friends, or for something different to happen. 

But it hadn’t and you’ve watched him come in, week after week, with a different book each time. He always orders the special of the day and whatever suggested wine pairing Jesper’s recommended that week.

Most Saturday nights you're busy leading a kitchen or cooking on the line – having little to no time to fixate or wonder curiously over your weekly diner – but tonight’s pace affords you the luxury to spend more time at the front of house. Truthfully, you know it’s the thing that sets you apart. Sure, the hospitality here in Copenhagen is excellent, but you bring an American hospitality-style to this restaurant – and above and beyond mentality – that feels welcoming, personal, even, as if your restaurant itself is just an extension of your home. 

You’ve heard your staff – front of house and back of house – whispering about him, all seemingly enamored and enchanted by the charming Brit. All any of you knew about him was that his name was Luca and that he’s always more than kind to your front of house staff. 

He doesn’t say much when he comes in, you’ve noticed, but every Saturday at 7 pm, he’s pushing his way through the front door with punctuality and a gentle ease.

The whisperings from your staff had all revolved around who your mysterious regular must be: whether he was Danish or Swedish, that someone that good looking must already have a partner, that he doesn’t wear a ring. 

You hadn’t paid much attention to the gossip (or at least that’s what you’ve told yourself) more focused on running dinner service then trying to piece together the story of your handsome, mysterious regular. 

“Hello,” you greet him warmly. “I just wanted to come introduce myself and say thank you for becoming one of our regulars. Your support means a lot to all of us.”

“Hi, I’m Luca.”

You share your name with a smile as he shakes your hand. 

Luca turns his attention down to the bowl you’ve put in front of him, his eyes taking in the beautiful presentation hungrily. 

“Wow, this looks… incredible,” he marvels, returning his gaze back to you. 

“Thank you. I’m sure my front of house already walked you through this but if you’d like for me to-,” you begin. 

“Yes, that’d be great, thanks,” he interjects, a crooked smile on his face that makes your heart skip a beat. 

You have to pull your attention away from him, hoping he doesn’t notice that you’re quite possibly gawking at him. 

He’s kind, charming, and he’s easy on the eyes (easy on the eyes, really being an understatement here).

“Today’s special was inspired by a childhood favorite of mine,” you begin, walking him through each component of the dish. 

Crispy Rice. Caramelized marinated trumpet mushrooms and charred broccolini. Your mom’s sauce approached with classic French techniques, courtesy of your sous, Mathilde, a classically French-trained chef. 

It’s a marriage of your story. Of the people around you. It’s your heart and theirs, put into a dish. 

“You’re the chef?” he asks, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. 

“Yes,” you answer, trying your best to get a read on him. 

He balks, and you’re unsure of how you’re supposed to respond. Was he surprised that you’re a woman? That he’s been eating your food the whole time and expected a male chef? Before you can overthink it, Luca clarifies with:

“I’m sorry. It’s just-, I can't think of the last time I saw a head chef work front of house, let alone with this much care.” 

Oh. 

You let down your guard, wondering why you’d assumed the worst when the man’s been nothing but kind to you and your staff so far. 

"We're a little short staffed tonight. And I love getting to talk to diners… especially on nights like this,” you explain, trying your best to sound like you hadn’t just assumed that he was a sexist asshole. 

He shakes his head in disbelief, looking down at the picturesque bowl, then back to you.

Luca is impressed, and he has no intention of hiding it.

He picks up his wine glass by the stem, raising it to you.

"Cheers,” he says. “And thank you. This is a really beautiful dish.”

“Of course. Enjoy,” you reply, giving him a polite smile, before heading back into the kitchen. 

 -------------------------------

“Good service tonight, everybody!” Jesper, your front of house manager, announces while clapping a few times to signal to staff that it’s time for a post shift meeting. 

As you all gather in the pristine front of house space. Some of your cooks have taken their aprons off, others haven’t had a moment to unwind from the shift yet – business picking up in the last hour or so of service. 

Jesper goes through his nightly wrap-up notes, celebrating the wins of tonight, and making sure to celebrate how everyone rallied to pick up pace when business spiked. He’s gregarious, larger-than-life, the kind of person who can talk to anyone about anything, making him an excellent front of house manager, and even better sommelier. You really lucked out with the twins, you think to yourself – with Jesper and Mathilde – when they were more than eager to work with you on opening this restaurant. 

“Oh, and before we go, a client left a gift… table number four,” Jesper says, in reference to Luca’s table. He pulls a tan-colored pastry box from another table, setting it down on a table where everyone can take a look. 

“As a thank you. He requested for me to share. So have it and let’s make a note next time he’s in to really treat him like a VIP.”

One of your most-talented servers opens the box, eliciting a chorus of gasps, giggles, and excited whispers as soon as the assortment of croissants and pastries are revealed. 

You and Mathilde exchange a look as everyone else busy themselves with unpacking the pastry box. Mathilde raises an eyebrow and you’re not sure what to say. Witnessing your silent exchange, Jesper makes his way over to the both of you, before extending his arm to reveal the card he’s holding. 

“And this, my dear…” he begins, exchanging a look with his sister. “...is for you.”

“What do you-, just me?” you ask as you take it, hesitantly. 

“I think so, yeah,” he nods, confidently. 

To the Chef, the front of the card reads. 

“Jesper, let’s check out some of these pastries, yeah?” Mathilde suggests, not so subtly hinting towards her brother. 

He nods, giving you a little space so that you can read the card Luca’s left for you. 

As your staff divvy up the box of laminated pastries, sighing with joy as they taste the decadent, hand-crafted sweets, you take a few steps away to open the note. His handwriting is pristine – perfectly neat in every way, like he’s written over carefully measured invisible lines.

Chef,

Thank you for all of the great meals. I'd like to return the favor, that is, if you're open to it. 

Tomorrow. 5 pm. Dronningens Tværgade 2, 1302

While Luca’s gift has been more-than-generous, you find yourself overwhelmed by questions. Was he a chef too? And why had he not said anything? And what was this gesture all about anyways?

You read the card a few more times, turning the words over in your head as you try to make sense of it. 

Mathilde can see your overwhelm, your eyebrows knitted into one confused expression as she saunters back over to you.

“What does it say?” she asks, curiously. “A love confession perhaps?”

“Mathilde, you really have to stop reading all of those French romance novels!” you tease her. “It’s giving you too many ideas.”

“It’s the only way I keep up with my French!” she defends herself with a lackadaisical shrug, earning a laugh from you.

“Uh no… it’s actually a thank you card… only I think he… wants to feed me,” you share with her, holding the card out so that she can take a look. 

“He’s a chef too?” she asks, taking the card from your hands. 

“I think so, yeah,” you reply, letting out an exasperated laugh. 

“Oh shit!” Mathilde exclaims, as soon as she sees the address that Luca’s written down. 

“What?” you ask her, wondering if there’s something you missed. 

“The address… that’s AOC. I think he’s a chef at AOC, babe,” she gasps, shaking her head as she hands the card back to you, sending a ‘you lucky, bitch’ look your way.

Oh shit, is right.

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

[moraxsthrone]

⊹✧˚｡⋆ title — sir kaeya

⊹✧˚｡⋆ pairing — k. alberich x f!reader

⊹✧˚｡⋆ wc — 5.7k

⊹✧˚｡⋆ cw/an — nsfw. mdni. alcohol consumption (duh it's kaeya). kaeya being a bit of a tease (duh it's kaeya). oral (m & f rcv'ing). snowballing (how fitting). clit slapping. this fic sprang forth from the very first genshin thing i ever wrote (the scene at angel's share) so it's really special to me. kaeya was my first genshin love and will always be my favorite. 💜

surprising as it would be to most, you’d never been to mondstadt before this week’s multi-regional summit. as a diplomatic representative of your region, many would guess that you’d been all over teyvat. but you’ve only held your current office for a little less than a year, and although you did your best to absorb as much information and knowledge as possible from your predecessor, it’ll take a lot more time and experience than what you have so far to be as efficient as they had been. so, for now at least, the job keeps you busy - too busy to travel for pleasure.

so when the final meeting of the last day gets canceled, rather than go home early you take the opportunity to do some much-anticipated exploring of the city of wind and its culture. 

“i’m famished! pray tell, sir kaeya, where would you recommend we go to enjoy the most authentic dishes of mondstadt?”

kaeya alberich, cavalry captain of the knights of favonius, has been charged with keeping you safe. as your security detail, he accompanies you almost everywhere you go - keeping a low profile during policy meetings - blending in with the background while also being close enough to stand between you and any potential threat or danger.

“we?” he asks, looking slightly confused. “will someone else be joining you?”

“if you’ll be so inclined…” you say before biting your lip and looking away shyly.

“me?”

you’d have to be blind not to have noticed his striking good looks the moment you were introduced to him on the first day, and it certainly wouldn’t hurt your feelings one bit to allow the captain to keep you company. likewise but unbeknownst to you, the gorgeous knight has stolen a few glances of you when you’ve been too busy to notice. he has especially enjoyed your pretty smile and the sway of your hips when you walk. more than once he’s allowed his gaze to linger on your curves perhaps a little too long.

“but of course! i don’t want to eat at a restaurant alone while you just stand there and watch. can you think of anything more depressing?” you joke.

“you make a valid point,” he says with a quiet laugh. “very well. allow me to treat you to good hunter. you’d be hard pressed to find a more impressive menu! miss sara makes a mean sticky honey roast - i can’t recommend it enough!”

as the two of you dine together, you enjoy easy conversation, becoming better acquainted with one another. when kaeya introduces you to miss sara, she goes out of her way to prepare for you a sampler of sorts, citing it as the perfect solution to your conundrum of deciding what to order because everything looks so tasty. she also insists that your bill is on the house, refusing to take any mora you offer, but you leave behind a handsome tip anyway. if nothing else, you want miss sara to have it as thanks for her warm and welcoming hospitality.

“what would you like to do next, m’lady?” kaeya asks, walking alongside you towards the city’s center.

you should be used to this title by now, but something about the way the cavalry captain looks at you when he says it sends a small rush of heat to your cheeks.

“oh, i don’t know. why don’t you surprise me?” you say, flashing him a coy smile, which he finds irresistibly adorable.

he takes you to marjorie’s souvenir shop before leading the way to the anemo archon statue in front of the cathedral. from there, the two of you take a stroll outside the city walls, engaging in playful banter along the way. your personalities blend well - he’s pleasantly surprised at your ability to keep up with his wit, and his charm wins you over with ease. by the time the sun is setting over the edge of the western horizon, your conversation is flowing effortlessly. the two of you haven’t been able to shut up for hours when you ask him,

“so where’s the best place to get a drink in this town?”

the knight’s smirk spreads into a full smile as he hums. “i know just the place.” 

⊹✧˚｡⋆

the tavern is packed, and you’re inclined to believe kaeya’s got that pirate blood he claims to have since he’s standing on one of the big wooden tables, surrounded by other rambunctious patrons of angel’s share, singing along with the bard’s songs about legends of sea and treasure. their energy is contagious (obnoxious if you ask diluc who just rolls his eyes and shakes his head from behind the bar). 

you’re right there with them, clapping and laughing when kaeya reaches out, takes your hand, and pulls you up onto the table with him. neither of you are sure if the visible heat on the apples of your cheeks is because of the alcohol or because of the sudden proximity of your bodies. with an arm around your waist he pulls you right up against his side and wow! he’s more powerful than he looks. the song is about finding love on the run and kaeya is acting out the lyrics with you, embarrassing you to no end but you’re having too much fun to ask him to stop, so you just go with it. 

the song’s story ends with a kiss and you think you might just die when kaeya’s arm flexes against the small of your back, fastening your hip to his thigh. he brings his lips right up to yours, but they don’t quite touch. your eyes go wide as you stare into his periwinkle orb that sparkles with mischief. he practically whispers the last line of the song, his dandelion wine breath wisping over your lips. 

the cheering of the men around you grows distant, drowned out by the blood rushing through your ears. 

kaeya’s heart pounds against the palm of your hand resting on his chest.

you watch with bated breath as his ice-blue eye darkens with his diamond pupil. he shifts his weight and your knees feel like jelly when his lips but graze yours before he smiles and pulls away with a laugh. 

raising his cup, he cheers along with the surrounding audience before hopping off the table. setting his drink down, he reaches for you again, this time to help you off the table. you accept, and he pulls you closer before his deft hands clasp your waist, lowering your feet to the floor. 

a tease that kaeya alberich, you think, but a chivalrous one. 

while you find yourself mingling with other patrons it seems kaeya never lets you out of his sight. he’s never too far away, engaged in his own conversations with some of the other locals when you look over to find him looking at you over the rim of his wine glass. 

when one of the gentlemen offers to buy you a drink, kaeya seems to appear out of nowhere and places a hand on your lower back. 

“oh, that won’t be necessary,” the knight interjects, voice filled with cool honey. “all her drinks are on the knights of favonius this evening, but a kind gesture, i’m sure.” 

“why, sir kaeya, if i didn’t know any better i would think you’re trying to keep me all to yourself tonight,” you say with a teasing lilt.

his lips part as a slight blush appears on his cheeks, but he quickly recovers. “just performing my knightly duties to keep you safe, m’lady.” 

when you’re ready to go, kaeya’s having such a good time that you don’t want to end his night. so you make your way to the bar to pay your tab, only to be told that your drinks have been bought and paid for already (oh, he wasn’t lying).

you wander out into the cool night, the sound of the crowd and the smell of booze muffled behind the thick wooden door. no longer had it shut behind you than you feel your back being pressed against the tavern’s exterior wall. you gasp, only to breathe easy when you find yourself pressed between the wall and your now-tipsy chaperone.

“thought you could get away so easily, hm?”

your eyes are glued to his smirk. those lips that promised to kiss you earlier won’t soon leave your mind.

you laugh breathily while giving his chest a gentle push. “i didn’t want to put a damper on your fun.”

“who said my fun is over for the night?” no sooner than the words leave his lips, his eye widens as he quickly realizes how inappropriate it was to say that. “oh dear, it seems i’ve forgotten my manners. please accept my apology, m’lady…”

his panicked attempt at clarification is interrupted by your laughter. “relax, sir kaeya. i won’t hold it against you.” 

he really wishes you’d stop calling him that. it makes his dick twitch every time and you both know his pants will leave little to the imagination if he gets a hard-on.

he stumbles walks you back to the goth grand hotel, removing his cloak along the way and draping it over your shoulders when he notices you shivering in the cool night breeze. when you reach your door, he lingers as you unlock it with the intention of ensuring you make it inside safely. the bolt unlatches and you turn to face your chaperone again. 

he’s looking down at you and opens his mouth to bid you good night when you pull him in by his shirt and kiss him. it’s a huge risk, one you never would’ve taken were it not for the liquid courage coursing through your veins. maybe he isn’t really interested in you and that’s the reason he didn’t kiss you earlier.

much to your relief, he kisses you back. passionately. 

his warm tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you eagerly chase it with your own. you slide your fingers inside the opening of his shirt, balling it in your fist to lure him inside. his chuckle is low and breathy when he smiles against your lips which never leave his as you slam the door with your foot and push his back against the nearest wall.

“hahh…who knew you could be so forceful, m’lady?” he pants.

“sorry, but…” you say between kisses, carding your fingers through his soft hair, “...you teased me earlier and…” another kiss, “...i really wanted that kiss,” you finish with a whine.

“well, why didn’t you just say so, hm?” kaeya says, sucking on your lower lip with a hum.

his thumbs slide under your top, massaging little circles into your skin. there’s not a hint of humor in his voice when he rolls his forehead against yours and rasps, “i’ve been wanting to kiss you until you can’t breathe anymore…”

in one swift motion, kaeya spins you around effortlessly until your back hits the wall, his cloak falling off your shoulders as he catches your gasp in his open mouth, making it clear to you that he’s the one in control now. his fingertips dig into your lower back and pull your hips from the wall, forcing them to collide with his so you can feel what you’re doing to him. you let out a quiet moan at the feeling of his semi pressing against your thigh. his lips leave yours to venture along your jaw before trailing down the column of your neck, his blue hair fluttering in your breath and filling your senses with the cool, clean scent of his cologne.

you reach down and fumble with kaeya’s belt, swearing at it under your breath when it doesn’t cooperate. with one hand and a couple flicks of his fingers, it hits the floor with a clamor of leather and metal. you have much better luck with the fastenings of his pants, his lips returning to yours with a shuddering breath just as you free his cock and start stroking his wide shaft, so hot and hard.

he quickly pulls his gloves off and hikes your skirt up to your hips, exposing your creamy thighs.

“so warm…” kaeya whispers, raking his long, slender fingers along your skin until he reaches your apex. “n' so wet…”

“hhhgods fuck…” the words leave you in a huff, making him groan when you rub your thumb over his slit to collect his slick bead of pre. “f-hnn-fuck me, kaeya~”

with your blessing, he wastes no time pulling his now fully hard cock out of your hand in favor of grabbing the backs of your thighs and picking you up. you lock your ankles behind him with a whimper, the back of your head rolling against the wall when the underside of his dick glides over your dripping pussy lips through your damp panties. kaeya’s got two handfuls of your ass, his deft fingers curling and pulling your underwear to the side to let his leaking cockhead seek your naked opening. he begins to push himself inside, dropping his forehead to your shoulder with a long groan as his tip pops through your tight ring. 

you cry out, one of your hands flying to the wall behind you as you loop an arm around his neck for stability. kaeya spreads his legs a little further apart for leverage as he sinks a little deeper inside you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. before he’s even fully sheathed inside you, he retreats just to push in again and starts fucking you, slow and shallow. he’s barely halfway in and you already feel so full, the thick vein on top of his shaft rolling under his skin as he pushes and pulls at your slick, gummy walls.

“so tight~” he breathes, open lips ghosting across your face as he goes for your lips again. “are you okay?”

all you can do is dumbly nod as your eyes roll back behind fluttering eyelids and a huff of a laugh bubbles from his smile. “feels so good…so good to me, kaeya~” 

you’re practically singing for him already and he hasn’t even bottomed out yet. it would probably go to his head were it not for the fact that he’s too far gone from the wet heat of your pussy sucking him so hard, the lip of your ring catching on the head of his cock with every draw of his hips, driving him too crazy for his ego to remain intact anymore. 

your elegant neck is exposed to him, letting his open lips drag along your moistening skin as your back moves up and down the wall with his thrusts. kaeya’s long, slender fingers grab your jaw and pull your lips to his. you’re so nice and wet for him that your need is spreading to his hips and balls. the sound of his thighs hitting yours when you finally take him all the way goes straight to your head. it’s one thing to feel kaeya fucking you, but hearing him fuck you - moist slaps of skin, his quickened breaths and quiet groans so close to your ear - it’s driving you out of your mind.

the cryo wielder pulls you away from the wall, your hot tongues swirling as he carries you to bed. his fingers squeeze the plush of your ass, guiding you along his throbbing shaft as he goes. kaeya lays you down before reaching behind his back to unlock your ankles and spread you open for him. 

he pulls out and stands up, looking down at you and letting out a breathy chuckle when you whine a little at the loss of his girth. but the view is delicious so you don’t complain. his rigid cock is thick with a large vein running his length and an angry, almost purple cockhead that’s dripping with fresh precum. his tan shaft glistens, wet with your slick. it bounces under its own weight as he kicks his boots off and pushes his pants down. 

you both watch the other undress with urgency; he makes quick work of his shirt as you shimmy out of your skirt. save for the battle scars, his lithe body is flawless - tall with long, lean muscles. seeing him like this makes you bite your lip and rub your thighs together.

kaeya’s lips curve into a small smile as he crawls towards you on the bed, his hands gently caressing the tops of your thighs as he kneels between them. he leans down to kiss your cheek, his long rat tail licking your breasts. “you are so fucking beautiful,” he says, barely above a whisper. “i've been dying to taste you…”

a sigh leaves your lips as he makes his way down your body, kissing and licking, sucking and nipping in all the right places. his breath feels so warm against your skin, save for the few times he purses his lips to blow cool air on the spots he just licked. he swirls his tongue around one of your nipples, only to replace it with his cool fingers while he gives the other the same treatment. the juxtaposition of warm and cool makes you arch off the bed, moaning when your clit brushes against his naked belly. 

gradually, kaeya makes his way further down, ghosting kisses along your bikini lines as his hands spread your thighs open just a little more for him. he watches your dewy petals unfold for him, exposing the hard little bud they’ve been hiding. “fuck…” he mutters, “...such a pretty pussy…”

“kaey-” you start, but your voice is cut off by a gasp when his warm tongue swipes swiftly along your slit. a single periwinkle eye stares up at you as he flicks the tip of his wet muscle over your clit, soft and light as a feather. he’s teasing you. you can see the mischievous glint in his eye as he dips his tongue into your hole. finally, his lips latch onto your needy clit, making your hips leave the bed when you thrust into his mouth. 

his taste buds rub your tiny erection, your flavor making him moan as he sucks you harder. one of his hands finds yours, your fingers interlocking while his other hand grabs and kneads at your heaving breasts, your soft tummy, and the plush of your thigh. 

he pops off you, drool and slick coating his chin. “your flavor…fucking delectable~” he breathes before diving back in.

he nearly sends you over the edge when he pushes two of his long fingers inside your clenching cunt, curling them to find that unmistakable rough spot within. your walls squelch helplessly around him as he finger-fucks you. your free hand grabs and pulls mindlessly at his hair, hips rocking to fuck his pretty face as he gives you the head of your life.

“ohh~ kaeya~” 

the searing coil that’s been spooling deep in your belly is getting impossibly tighter and when the cavalry captain hums on your clit, the vibrations send you. you cry out for him, back arching, walls clenching around his curled fingers. he pins you to the bed with his free arm and moans, a wet spot forming where more of his pre leaks out of his throbbing cock when your fists tighten around his cerulean locks. you cum for him, thighs clamping around his head while his tongue pulses over your clit until you’re fully spent.

kaeya situates his hips between your legs, wiping your spilled essence from his flushed face with a breathy chuckle before pressing the underside of his cock between your slippery folds. you taste yourself on his tongue when he kisses you, and he relishes your gasp when his swollen cockhead catches on your overstimmed clit. 

grinning against your lips, he says, “oh? feeling a little sensitive, hm? perhaps you’re not quite ready to take my cock again so soon…” he teases, pulling away but you squeeze your thighs around his hips, impeding his escape and making him laugh.

“i can take a lot more than you think, sir kaeya…” you purr, twirling a strand of his blue hair around your finger.

there’s that glint in his eye again when he licks his smirking lips. “is that so, m’lady?” he croons, reaching between your bodies to grab the base of his cock. biting his lower lip and holding your gaze steady the cryo user slaps the head of his cock hard against your clit, swallowing your cry at the sharp pressure. “fuck,” he groans. “you make the prettiest sounds for me…”

“so mean,” you whine, digging your nails into his biceps when he pushes his blunt tip inside you.

he drops his mouth to your ear as he slowly spreads you open around his girth, whispering, “...and you love it.” 

his sultry voice shoots down your spine straight to your core, making him moan deliciously when your weeping walls clamp down on him. kaeya starts slow and even, pulling almost all the way out before easing himself balls deep a few times, making you feel every inch as his cock drags and pulls along your slippery insides. 

the lingering effects of your orgasm have left you even tighter than the first time he fucked you. he can already feel the heat pooling at the base of his spine, his balls drawing closer to his body when his hips begin to snap. there’s no way he’s going to get enough of you before he cums. you feel too fucking good - the way your little cunt is squeezing and sucking him so hard, drooling and soaking his entire length as he fucks you. the pretty little sounds your mouth and your pussy make for him…your whines and cries of his name, the slurps and squelches of your juices all over his cock. 

he’s got to get more of you, plunge his cock deeper inside your hot, wet cunt. 

kaeya pushes up onto his knees and props your ankles on his shoulders, still fucking you through it all without missing a beat.

“oh gods, kae- kaeya~...feels so good, don’t stop!”

“wasn’t planning on it…” he pants as he leans forward, putting you in a deep press so he can hit the spot that makes your hips leave the bed. “...gonna fuck you until this sweet pussy of yours creams all over my dick…”

you’re twisting the sheets in your fists above your head, the firm ridge of kaeya’s cockhead bumping against your sweet spot with every snap of his hips. strands of blue hair are sticking to his tan skin, a bead of sweat trickles down his chest before dripping onto yours. his palms are planted firmly on either side of you, veins popping out along his sinewy arms as muffled grunts form in his throat.

your walls are closing in tighter around him, both of you can feel it. his name is leaving your lips in broken syllables, coming out in huffs with the force of his thrusts: “kae-ya…y-you…fuck…g-gon-na…” is all you can manage before he fucks your next orgasm right out of you. you’re pawing at his chest, crying his name, clenching so hard around him you’d push him out were it not for him pounding into you harder, fighting to stay inside, determined to fuck you all the way through it with his brow furrowed and jaw clenched.

his balls ache, but he’s able to hold out for a few more seconds before the coil snaps inside him. he swears and pulls out quickly, his narrow hips still jerking and his arm flexing as he spills his hot, sticky seed out onto your belly and tits. you watch the pleasure wash over his beautiful face as his cock twitches in his own hand, a groan giving way to a satisfied sigh as the last of his cum oozes from his slit.

one at a time, he lowers your feet to the bed on either side of him. both of you are out of breath, chests heaving as kaeya dips down and licks a glob of his still-warm semen from your skin before bringing his mouth to yours. you moan in his mouth at his flavor, eagerly swirling your tongue around his to let him feed you his fresh, salty cum. 

when he rolls off of you, both of you just lie on your backs in comfortable silence for a few moments, catching your breaths and basking in the afterglow. 

“i guess this means you’ll be leaving soon, hm?” you finally ask. 

with one knee bent, kaeya turns his head to look at you as you gaze up at the ceiling. “is that your way of kicking me out of your bed?” he asks with a forced smirk. 

“no,” you chuckle. “i just didn’t take you for the type to stick around after a one-night stand…” you turn onto your side to face him. “but if i’m being honest, i really don’t want you to leave.”

“just how big of a whore do you think i am?” kaeya asks, contriving to sound offended and making you chuckle. he mirrors you and rolls onto his side, tenderly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “i’m glad you want me to stay. i’ve had more fun with you tonight than i’ve had in a really long time.”

“is that right?” you say, biting your lip and dragging a fingertip down his enticing cleavage. “then why should our fun end?” you lean in and kiss him, his lips meeting yours softly.

“i didn’t say it should...” kaeya says before pressing his lips to yours again.

you press your hand against his chest, prompting him to lay on his back. goosebumps rise to meet your lips when you kiss his tan neck. he leans his head back and gasps quietly when you gently palm his softened cock. your touch is exquisite. he wants more of you but first he’s content to enjoy the wet kisses you leave along his skin as you work your way down to one of his dark and tightly budded nipples.

you smile and look up at him when he moans your name at the feeling of your tongue flicking over what’s proving to be one of his most sensitive spots. continuing on down, you take your time ghosting sweet kisses along the valley of his taut abs, all the way down to his cute navel and blue happy trail. you’re appreciating the time and care he obviously puts into his manscaping when you wrap your fingers around his still-sticky cock, surprised to find it so hard again already. 

with a couple of fingers holding his base, you swirl your tongue around his salty cockhead and fuck he tastes good. you close your lips around his tip and give it a little suckle before popping off again to kiss the underside of his rigid shaft. you can still taste yourself on him too, somehow making you want to suck him even more. 

sliding his slender fingers into your hair, kaeya mutters, “y/n…please…”

you finally take him in your mouth, your saliva coating him as you slowly sink down until his tip touches the back of your throat before hollowing your cheeks and pulling back towards his tip. with a slight tremble of his open legs, kaeya’s fingers tighten in your hair - not to control your pace or depth, but because the sheer pleasure coursing through him has all of his muscles tightening. 

“ahh~ feels so…nnh~” he sighs as you take him in again, “...good.”

the sounds and words leaving his mouth are going straight to your pussy. you want to know just how good you can make him feel so after a little more cocksucking, you pull off him and move to straddle his hips.

you and kaeya hold eye contact as you line him up with your slit, dragging his tip between your pussy lips a few times. you’ll never forget the pleading look in his eye or the way his lips part when his blunt, leaking tip catches on your opening and you begin to lower yourself on his length. kaeya takes your hands in his, intertwining your fingers as your eyes flutter shut at the sensation of being filled once again with his girth.

you lean down to kiss him as you begin to ride him, slowly at first but gradually working yourself into a frenzy. kaeya’s hands grip your hips as you pop your ass on him, gliding along his filling cock. your moans turn to whimpers as you feel yourself approaching another orgasm and you start bucking your hips. 

“ka-hahh~ kaeya…” you sit up, your hands anchoring themselves to his chest, using his body as leverage to drag your clit along his happy trail. 

kaeya’s fingertips are digging into the plush of your butt, aiding your thrusts as he whispers words of encouragement. “that’s it, y/n. you’re doing so well…fucking me right…you’re almost there, keep going~”

and just like that, your fingertips dig into the muscle of his chest as your orgasm rips through you. you’re crying his name out over and over as you spasm all around him and the very fibers of your being feel like they’re being torn asunder until your body begins to go limp. kaeya welcomes you into his embrace as you lower your chest to his, your hot breath bathing his neck as you try to catch it, still whining here and there as he kisses the side of your head and tells you how fucking amazing you are.

with some of your strength and mind returning, you rise just enough to kiss him again, finding a fleeting look of sheer adoration in his eye before he lifts your hips and pulls out of you, his rock hard, creamy cock slapping against his happy trail. he moves you onto your belly while he positions himself behind you, pulling your weak hips up until you’re presenting for him.

“is this okay?” he mutters, dragging his tip along your quivering slit.

eyes still closed, you nod weakly against the bed. “ye-yes…please, kaeya~”

with one hand on your lower back, he guides his cock inside you before hooking both his hands around your hips. he fucks you slowly, pulling almost all the way out before sinking himself fully inside your heat again. but it isn’t long before kaeya’s wet hips are slapping against your ass and he’s watching the creamy ring you’re leaving on his cock, mesmerized by how beautifully it contrasts with his darker skin. the thick vein on top of his cock is rolling under the pressure of your tight, sucking cunt - every time kaeya thrusts inside you. 

you’re whimpering again. “s-sir kaeyaaa~” you whine at him over your shoulder. 

“love it when you call me that…” he pants.

“i- hahh~ i know~” you say with a sly, exhausted smile. 

his balls are tightening again - rolling around in his sac as the muscles around them seek to force his seed out again, making him moan and exhale a long “ah, fuuuuuck~” behind you. “gonna cum…”

after a few more stuttered thrusts, kaeya buries himself deep inside you, his tightened balls pressed hard against your clit as he unloads himself. “i’m...nggh...i'm cumming~” he can’t help but moan loudly as he coats your walls with his hot, milky seed. a couple of thick globs leak from the rim of your hole, and drip down his tight, dark-skinned balls.

kaeya nearly collapses on top of you, but manages to land on the bed beside you, pulling you close to him. you’re facing each other but your eyes are still closed as you both kiss whatever part of the other’s body or face is closest, too exhausted to mutter a single word. 

⊹✧˚｡⋆

dawn comes, bringing with it her harsh light. your eyes flutter open with a squint, turning away from it only to find an arm lying limply around you. 

oh. oh right. that happened. 

you smile weakly at the fresh memories of your drunken fuckfest with the cavalry captain of the knights of favonius.

the fact that your duties in mondstadt have been fulfilled and you’ll be leaving to return to your homeland give you a low, sinking feeling in your heart. after a few minutes of replaying the events of the previous night and considering your options, you gingerly move the cavalry captain’s arm off your body - slowly and carefully so as not to wake him. 

⊹✧˚｡⋆

kaeya wakes with a groan, his eye blinking open to find himself alone in the hotel bed. he sits up and looks around, calling your name once but to no avail. he thinks ‘how predictable’ when he realizes you left without even saying goodbye. he tries to ignore the ache in his chest, reminding himself that he should be used to it by now. he throws the covers back to start getting dressed when from the corner of his eye he catches something flutter: a folded piece of parchment that had been resting on your pillow. a thread of hope dares to weave its way through his heart as he picks it up and begins to read:

“you looked so handsome and peaceful in the morning light, i didn’t want to wake you. thank you…for everything, but especially for the night before. i don’t want to call it “last” night because i truly hope it wasn’t our last. please reach out if you feel the same. i’d love for you to visit my homeland so i can be your tour guide and return the favor…i’d love to see you again, sir kaeya alberich…”

you’d signed it with your name and a simple, small heart before writing your address below your signature.

a couple of days later, you receive a letter inside an envelope with the seal of the knights of favonius. 

“of course i feel the same. our time together was far too delightful to have been so brief. i would love to visit you and experience all that your homeland has to offer. the acting grand master has been urging me to take some time off to relax anyway. so just tell me when and i’ll be there with bells on. we’ll paint the town red and enjoy as many more nights together as you please, my lady.”

— sir kaeya

kaeya m.list | main m.list

⊹✧˚｡⋆ 18+ reblogs, likes, comments, and follows always appreciated !! i give you all kithkith !!

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[zepskies]

Sample the Menu

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader

AN: Happy New Year, everyone! 🌟 This was requested by a lovely anon. It’s sort of a sequel to the imagine below. ⤵️

See this imagine for context: Repaying him for a job well done.

Word Count: 550 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only — spiciness and innuendo.

Imagine: Interrupting Ben while he’s cooking.

The cringeworthy sound of metal clanging on metal woke you up early on a Saturday morning. Though your irritation was soon waylaid by the glorious smell wafting up from the kitchen.

Bacon. It had to be. Mixed with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

You slid out of bed, pulled on one of the shirts discarded on the bedroom floor (likely Ben’s, for how big it was), and freshened up before heading downstairs.

You were greeted to a mouthwatering sight.

An over six-foot tower of a man was taking up your kitchen, all broad shoulders and lean muscle and bed-tousled hair.  

In short, Ben was cooking.

But because he didn’t have to worry about the potential sting of sparked bacon grease, he only wore a pair of sweatpants while scrambling the eggs. Slowly you crept closer, not wanting to disturb his concentration just yet.

He actually seemed to be doing well. Or at least, nothing seemed to be on fire. (A vast improvement from previous attempts.)

Besides the pans of eggs and bacon, there were four slices of bread locked and loaded in the double-decker toaster, a side of butter, and two plates on the counter. The coffee was already done percolating.

Once again, your boyfriend managed to delight and surprise. He’d never cooked for you before. And you could dare to say, not for anyone before. You'd just recently managed to get him to do the dishes without being asked, to say nothing of breaking out the cookware...

There was an enormous mess of bowls, plates, and even a whisk in the sink, but you could deal with that if this was your reward.

A bubbly feeling rose up into your chest, making you smile. You went to him on light feet, sneaking up behind him.

Looping your arms through his and embracing him from behind, you leaned up on your toes and nipped at his bare shoulder. To him, it felt like a mere graze of your teeth.

“Mmm, I love a man at work,” you said.  

“Was wondering how long you were gonna fucking stand there,” Ben said, finally glancing at you over his shoulder. His lips twitched upward at the sight of your grin.

You hugged him tight from behind and pressed a lingering kiss into his neck.

“Breakfast looks good, babe. Thank you,” you said, though your hands drifted down his chest, down his sternum, down to thumb at the stretchy waistband of his pants. “It all looks good.”

A smirk pulled at his lips, though you couldn’t see it.

“Oh yeah?” he said. “Want to sample the menu?”

He felt your smile grow against his skin. “Yeah, I think I do.”

Just as you might’ve started inching that waistband down his hips, and lowering yourself along with it, Ben set down the metal salad spoon he’d been using to mix the eggs and turned in your arms.

He grabbed you by the hips and hauled you up on the counter beside him, hard enough to make the plates clatter. You gasped at the suddenness of it and clung to his arms.

“Ben—”

“Be a good girl and sit pretty for me,” he said. His eyes glinted with a familiar edge of cockiness before they roamed over your bare thighs. His grip brought you right to the edge of the counter, where he spread your legs apart. You allowed it, a tremor of arousal coiling in your belly.

His hand ventured up the inside of your thigh, and his smirk deepened.

It seemed you’d forgone panties entirely this morning. He liked that, along with the blushing smile you now wore, just for him.

“On second thought,” he said, as his fingers brushed the bare seam between your legs. “I think I want a taste.”  

AN: Hopefully the real food doesn't get cold. 😅

Soldier Boy Masterlist

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#Sample the Menu #Imagine: interrupting Ben while he’s cooking #reader request #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #Soldier Boy imagine #ask me stuff #the boys #soldier boy/ben #smuttish #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #zepskies writes

[cruciomione]

yin and yang: carmy and sydney's creative processes + menu planning

what i love about analyzing carmy and sydney is the way they mirror each other. their similarities and differences, and how they have the potential to complement each other well. truly make each other better at this.

this is most evident with the way they approach creating a dish.

sydney's creative process

evidenced by sheridan (s01e05) and sundae (s02e03), sydney is very imaginative when it comes to creating a dish. the editing in these episodes gives us an intimate view of her creative process. recipes often come to her in dreams/daydreams.

sydney gets inspired by her passion for cooking, her family history and her city/world around her (architecture, nature, other restaurants in Chicago). this really fits into sydney's motivations as a chef.

Sydney uses food to make people happy. She likes to take care of people. someone on here explained the significance of sydney wanting exactly one michelin star, which would signify affordable high quality food that normal everyday people have access to. in braciole she mentions to marcus that her dad and her didn't really go out to eat so when they did, they made it count and it was special. she wants to create an experience like that with her own spot (the Bear).

so naturally that is reflected in her food. its not simply a great meal, but a fabric/archive of her culture, history, worldview and entire character.

while sydney has a very imaginative creative process, she often just jots down her ideas in her little notebook(s), for later reflection.

carmy's creative process

carmy has a more tense relationship with cooking. while sydney and carmy are both amazing chefs, carmy seems to be more jaded and detached from his work.

for carmy he grew up in a household where food was a big part of his family. his mom, mikey, and nat can all cook well. he is naturally very great at it. he uses food to be closer to the people he loves. thats why in the face of rejection from his brother, he goes off and becomes one of the best chefs in the country out of spite. why he uses the beef to try and fix his relationship with mikey. why he was so devasted when syd quit and why he started his dream restaurant with her after she came back.

because we dont get an intimate look into carmys psyche when creating a dish, its harder to say but based off his monolouge in braciole (s01e8) and the way he uses food to connect with people he loves rather than having passion for it independently i can surmise that carmy isn't imaginative as sydney. food is more like a math equation (ironic)/a science.

“he’s the best bc he didn’t have any of the bullshit”, emotional ties/relationships of any kind. his career esp at EMP were isolating, rigid and cold. he was the best bc he was calculating, precise and competitive. which breeds excellence in his field while straying him further away from love and true passion.

i imagine carmy to be more pragmatic with creating a dish.

but carmy is a creative person at his core and while creating a dish might not be as colorful as when sydney does it. we do know that carmy can draw and visualize his ideas onto paper. "Sistine Chapel" level drawings according to syd.

sydney + carmy - potential true partnership

on my 3rd rewatch, i couldn't help but feel so dissatisfied with their partnership. granted this is on purpose since the show is only 2 seasons in and they are trying to do a slow burn in all aspects, not just romantic.

it really hit me that carmy and sydney have never - at least on screen - created a meal together. in s1, we never see the risotto come to fruition, we just get carmys input but never the finished product. in s2 finally, carmy and Sydney work together now that their dynamic has changed from boss and employee to partners. we get like what? 4 scenes of them creating the menu, and having this amazing professional chemistry but ultimately leads to two failed dishes, which would be ok if they worked together after that. but they dont...

instead for the rest of the season, we see them (mainly Syd) working on the menu separately. the menu is....alright. mainly has carmy written all over it (he has a the seven fishes + cannolis, weird homage to one of the worst nights of his life).

*putting on another pair of shipper goggles to say this makes the whole "you make me better at this" confession, even more mind-boggling bc better at what? you guys haven't even worked together all season. this = life , i rest my case*

in s3 and beyond, im excited for them to truly start working together as partners and actually see them create a dish together.

i want to see how their approaches to creating a dish can help the other.

how sydneys creative process can help carmy

besides the obvious romantic implications of the palette cleanser outing, the potential for them to understand each other on a deeper level in regards to food is something i mourn everyday.

after sydney goes on her trip solo, we see her ride the ferry and just take a look at her surroundings. shes thinking about the food she ate, shes looking at buildings, windows, looking at the snow. all inspiration for a dish.

imagine if carmy was there with her. he would be curious about what she's thinking about, get insight on how she creates and maybe want to learn to see food in a less practical way.

i mean he hadn't drawn in years it seems until he was inspired by sydney and the chaos menu to draw again....now imagine if he didn't ruin the moment by bringing up claire (LMFAO). the point is, sydney naturally sparks creativity and passion in him, even when they aren't together.

i know many people are theorizing that carmy will leave the culinary industry (and i agree most of the time) but i also think sydney is slowly but surely helping him discover/re-discover a passion for cooking. i think that carmy likes that sydney likes to take care of people because subconsciously he knows he does the same thing or has the potential for it (i.e making tiff sprite from scratch when she was experiencing morning sickness). evidenced by fishes (s02e6), care often feels like an obligation (he takes care of drunk donna when shes going through an episode) but it doesnt have to be this way. and now carmy wants to get a star for her....their interests are slowly aligning.

how carmys creative process can help sydney

this isn't as concrete as the one above but i found it interesting thinking about how carmys more pragmatic approach and sydneys idealistic approach can work in tandem.

first scene in pop (s02e5) shows sydney and tina late at night working on the tasting menu. later in the episode we find out that carmy has been pushing back menu planning leaving sydney on her own. she trying an elements concept which is extremly creative and impressive but even tina says, which sydney later agrees, that its a lot for a tasting menu.

im stretching maybe....but based on carmys comment on her risotto from the season before (needs acid) + his practical approach, it seems like he acts like a buffer when sydneys ideas get "a lot".

*in chemistry buffers are solutions added to resist pH changes when acidic and basic components are added*

so if carmy needs to be more creative and sometimes sydneys ambitions gets ahead of her....

sydney is the heart, while carmy is the brain (???)

one cannot work without the other. when they truly come together to create the menu, they both need to learn from one another to elevate the restaurant. not to mention with carmy's italian american roots and syd's Nigerian-Caribbean/southern roots, they have the potential for amazing fusion dishes and real partnership. i and others want the menu to physically reflect both of them.

conclusion

i literally dont know where im going with this. sorta kinda meta but its more like hopes and dreams for next season and me wanting to type my ideas down.

they complement each other well ok? and have potential for a great partnership once they communicate better. i like this part of the definition of yin and yang:  Their interaction is thought to maintain the harmony of the universe and to influence everything within it.

carmy and Sydney are the leaders of the bear, their relationship is foundational to the success of their restauarnt and team, once they work together truly, play to their strengths and weaknesses, then will come true harmony in their universe.

bonus

more sydcarm parallels/similaries/differences/yin yang moments:

carmys gold chain, syds silver earrings

carmys white t-shirts, syds white button ups

carmy is bad at math, syds great with numbers

carmy wasn't really great at school, this is sorta fanon but i can imagine syd excelled in school

both wear birkenstocks (more a chef thing but i still think its cute)

sunshine x grumpy trope but like better...usually the sunshine (syd) is more emotionally vulnerable making a space for grumpy (Carm), but they switch positions. carmy allows sydney to be more emotionally vulnerable often initiating deep conversations, while syd is more closed up/guarded

overall tho i think its cute that they are both shy/emotionally stunted but i do think purely aesthetic wise, sydney has a softer exterior ( doe eyes, colourful scarves, awkward) while carmy is more intimidating (tats, smokes, looks angry all the time)

both fight dirty - i.e their individual fights with richie (review, the bear)

carmy tho is more prone to outbrusts of anger/violence while sydney lets that shit shimmer until she explodes on you

both their passcode being 11111

carmy having dark mode on his phone, syd having light mode in s2

their matching clothes moments earlier in the second season and in bolognese

if theres more, pls comment/reblog, bc i always think of this shit and need more to cry about

fin!

credits: gif 1&2 , gif 3 and gif 4

#the bear #sydcarmy #the bear fx #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #sydcarmy meta #carmen x sydney #chefs kiss #its so late man i dont even care if this doesnt make sense im rambling #the bear meta

[crusty-chronicles]

Airheaded S/O Headcannons: #6 Sebastian (Black Butler)

An: Literally the hardest part is finding a decently sized picture for him. We will now continue with our regularly scheduled program.

He finds your stupidity incredibly amusing

That being said, you're either his most or least favorite servant

Depends on the time of day honestly

You break more dishes than Mey-Rin

You explode the kitchen more often than Baldroy

You destroy the garden worse than Finny

But what kind of butler would he be if he couldn't deal with one completely incompetent person?

So after making the mistake of letting you complete a task by yourself the first few times, he now watches over you for any potential disasters.

He's your shadow until you can prove to him you're not so stupid after all.

And that's where you pique his interest. (Well appeal to his amusement that is)

You cut yourself trying to prepare the Young Master a snack?

"What a clumsy little thing you are," he says as he puts a small band aid on your finger.

You need to deliver some documents to Ciel but forgot which room is his?

"Right this way, you've kept the Young Lord waiting long enough with your forgetfulness," he coos and leads you to his room.

What's that? You fell onto the dining table and broke it along with the set of dishes?

"A shame. Those were newly imported. So be it, as long as you didn't hurt yourself too bad." And he precedes to check you over for major injuries.

Not because he cares, but because a Phantomhive servant must always be in top condition.

More often than not, he's stifling a laugh behind his hand at your antics

You accidentally used salt instead of sugar for Ciel's tea?

He's trying so hard not to break as the young boy spits his drink and starts coughing.

Guest are being rude?

You tell them they reek of alcohol and cigarettes, and he's hiding a smile behind his gloved hand.

You lost the keys to the manor and broke the door to get in?

He's cooing down at you and ties a spare to your uniform.

It becomes a game to him to see how many times he can get your small brain to short-circuit

Whether it's telling you about where the new imports are from or today's menu, he finds immense joy seeing your face go blank.

His record is 7 times in two minutes

While Sebastian's opinion of you varies, it's very clear you're Ciel's favorite servant.

Why????

Because you're the only one who manages to catch Sebastian off guard.

The demon who's prepared for anything and everything, who almost never breaks his composure, dumbfounded by a human who can't even enter a carriage without falling or breaking it.

If Ciel's ever mad at Sebastian, he'll punish him by pairing the two of you up for chores.

And Sebastian absolutely hates it because he won't get anything done.

There is a plus side to this though. It means convincing Ciel to let you come on missions is easier.

He just can't stand being away from his favorite form of entertainment, after all.

Speaking of missions 👀👀👀

You're an absolute titan, and while Sebastian was well aware you're Finny's sibling, he's still impressed by your strength.

It's not just you hurling statues or whole carriages at enemies.

It's the fact that after taking multiple gunshots to your torso, while bleeding profusely, you pick up Ciel and manage to toss him Sebastian's way with ease.

Like you weren't seriously injured

You just kept trucking on, as if you weren't bleeding out.

Sebastian eventually has to step in before you die, despite your protests that you could keep going.

"Let's treat those wounds, shall we? It'd be a shame for the Young Master to lose his favorite servant to such a trivial cause." Ciel was part of the reason he saved you, but not the true reason.

Because the truth, the real reason was a little more sinister.

Sebastian would just hate for his precious toy to be broken so soon.

So he decides to keep you at the manor for the time being. At least until you take your life a little more seriously.

Such a delicious soul shouldn't be thrown away that easily.

He won't see you in a romantic light for a long time. But that doesn't stop him from toying with you.

A huge fan of whispering naughty things in your ear and seeing you not processing it at all.

Just your face going blank and a, "I don't think that's very practical, but to each their own I guess."

And it's so funny to him because most women (and let's be real, men) would be flustered beyond belief.

But for you it goes in one ear and out the other.

He also appreciates how you pay his appearance no mind

You're not fumbling over words or getting all blushy when he's near

You simply don't care or don't notice his attempts to get a rise out of you.

And that makes him only want your attention even more.

He realizes he likes you a little more than he should during the Jack the Ripper incident.

Ciel let you tag along to confront his aunt because, "You're the most incompetent, yet capable servant." As he puts it.

Grell went in for a nasty blow with his death scythe, one that Sebastian wouldn't be able to avoid in full.

And in you came, shoving him out of the way and getting your side sawed through. In what only could be called a display of strength, you grabbed the blade of the chainsaw and pulled the reaper close to you, then socked her straight in her jaw, sending Grell flying.

He was very impressed that a human of all creatures was capable of such feats.

Then Sebastian was upset.

So very upset that this reaper had damaged his plaything.

He fights with the intent to kill until the whole ordeal is called off by Ciel.

While you're getting patched up back at the estate is when he decides your his.

Sebastian is a demon after all, and a very cruel one at that.

His first step in courting you is tricking you into a contract. (Which would not be hard to do at all)

He'll take you to the manor's garden and get down on a knee, as if he planned to confess.

"My dearest pet," he'd start off with his eyes already flashing their demonic color.

"It brings me immense pain to see you injured so often on the Queen's little excursions. If you would agree to let me stay by your side, I would protect you from any and all harm."

"All you need do is call my name and I shall be there. What I ask in return is you. Your mind. Your body. Your soul. Will you accept?"

He watches eagerly as the cogs turn in your head.

"Mmmm, no"

And he's 👁️👄👁️

Because what did you say??????

Out of all the humans, you, you say no????

He reaches for you before you leave.

"May I ask why?" Because he, Sebastian, the most sought out man, was being turned down by the one being he actually wanted.

" Because I want to be the one that protects you. It's not fair to add even more weight to your shoulders." You answer.

And after taking a moment to process, Sebastian is laughing.

Oh you precious, precious fool.

It's decided then, he doesn't want your soul. Oh no, he plans to keep you for all of eternity.

So long as you always keep him on his toes

He let's you decide the terms of this arrangement, knowing full well you have no clue what you just agreed to

He places his mark directly over your heart.

It's less obvious than Ciel's, but still enough to show that your fate's forever intertwined with his.

There are only ever two things he calls you: fool and pet.

Fool because, well, your a huge idiot always getting into trouble.

And pet because that's exactly what you are to him.

His precious pet that he'll keep safe for the time being. (I reiterate, he's a demon demon)

Sebastian isn't very affectionate, but there are times he's feeling soft and wants to kiss your forehead. Usually to wake you for the day.

Holding your hand to guide you is another one of his favorites. You're just so cute when you don't know where you're going.

Sebastian doesn't get jealous because what reason does he have to worry you'll leave him.

He is one hell of a lover, you know?

On the other hand, he gets a smidge territorial if a reaper or angel is near you.

They aren't mortal and have the power to end you on the spot.

But he'd never let that happen.

He honestly can't tell if you know he's a demon or not.

It's not like he hides it very well around you, but you're very slow to pick up on things.

Nevertheless, you're his until the day you die and beyond.

His foolish little human.

NEXT UP: Jinx (Arcane)

MASTERLIST

#sebastian x reader #sebastian x y/n #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader #black butler #black butler x reader #black butler x y/n #kuroshitsuji #x reader #x y/n #airhead s/o #stronk s/o

[jasaginae0]

I just got done playing Dead Plate, here are my thoughts and analysis:

It's so interesting how Rody and Vincent perfectly parallel each other, though Vincent's way of mirroring Rody is shown with metaphors and symbolism.

Rody tries again and again to try to win back Manon, he loves her to death more than anything. He job hops in order to get money to impress her, he waits by the phone hoping she'll answer his calls he even has to hear from VINCENT that Manon has ended their relationship when his love for Manon blinded him of their breakup.

But Vincent's parallel to Rody is shown metaphorically, look at his cooking:

He scribbles out reviews from critics that are less than perfect, when Rody reveals he has been letting Vincent's meals for him collect dust in his fridge he looks as if Rody just spit in his face and he is constantly changing the menu.

Vincent said he lost his taste as a child. The dude literally considers his favorite food to be a lemon. A god damn lemon. He has been shown to become VERY upset over mistakes, big or small in his kitchen (Unless it's Rody).

I'm convinced cooking is a metaphor for trying to impress people and feel accomplished but failing every time. I think Vincent comes from a not very good household, and it's manifesting in his adulthood. Vincent has a passion for cooking and food, I believe this had been the case ever since childhood, but when he saw his families apathy towards it, he grew desperate to impress them. To show them that he could do something GREAT with his talent, he works and works to improve, finding any dish that would wow people, yet nothing.

He starts cooking to impress people, he no longer does it for himself, it's too feel accomplished. This goes on until cooking isn't even considered a hobby of Vincent's, he's doing it for others rather than himself. It gets to point he barely enjoys cooking and food in general, so losing his taste is symbolism for Vincent losing out to his hobby to impress others.

He says after losing his taste, he is desperate for a dish. Everything tasted the damn same. It drove him crazy. He wanted something different if we connected that with Vincent trying to impress Rody with his dish, we can also connect that to the theory that Vincent was in love with Rody. If he did like him, I don't think Vincent saw him as an actual potential lover, he saw Rody as another chance to impress the people he couldn't, could Rody remind him of someone that Vincent was desperate to impress? And seeing Rody, he saw a second chance to be a big shot, to prove others wrong and to finally be accomplished?

Vincent literally agrees to date Manon despite being a gay man, just to cook her and feed her to Rody in hopes that he'll love it. Vincent knew Rody LOVES Manon, as long as she's involved he will love whatever it is, so Vincent sees Manon as his key to his goal and kills her. But that doesn't work, and he dies.

They both mirror each other in such interesting ways, I love it.

Rody probably learned his lesson and eventually moved on from Manon, but Vincent didn't see what was the problem, that there was no unique dish that he needed he just needed to rediscover his passion and stop using food to seek validation, yet he died chasing a goal that would never happen.

In conclusion, Dead Plate's theme is trying to impress people and seek validation that we lose ourselves and don't even think about what we want. At times, it may even end us.

#dead plate #dead plate rody #dead plate vincent #character analysis #vincent charbonneau #rody lamoree

[safiredreams]

ASTROLOGY NOTES IX

MOON IN THE 6TH HOUSE people are very emotionally attached to their work so stressful situations at work will often affect ones emotional and physical health in a very big way.

in 12TH HOUSE SYNASTRY, the planet person is bringing forth the unconscious of the 12th house person. a lot of issues are being dragged out into the open and it can be quite painful for the house person to deal with, but there is a lot of healing that could be achieved through relating with the planet person.

the SEXTILE ASPECT between planets denotes a potential talent, the blending of the planets is quite easy and so the expression of the talent will feel quite natural, it’s sort of the idea or skill that you can grasp quite fast.

SUN SEXTILE NEPTUNE could be someone who has a lot of potentials in art and creativity or spirituality. with some practice they could turn out to be amazing dancers, writers or healers. the suns desires could find their expression through neptunian outlets.

TRINES BETWEEN PLANETS show us our most natural talents, those things we don’t really have to work on at all to be quite good at, this aspect doesn’t denote mastery since we often don’t feel the tension or a deep seated desire to pursue that talent into perfection and mastery, it’s those things we fall back on when life gets hard.

SUN TRINE URANUS is someone who would be extremely innovative and they just wouldn’t really need to stress themselves out when it comes to them coming up with new ideas, they could just be sitting eating a sandwich then out of nowhere they have this lightbulb moment of a great idea for a book coming to them. like a flash of electricity. they probably have these moments a lot so it doesn’t really faze them.

VENUS IN AQUARIUS person needs space and a certain amount of autonomy, there is a need within them to stay individuals with their own personalities and desires and ideas and not to merge completely and lose their sense of their unique self.

MARS IN CAPRICORN person might try to pursue by showing you how practical, mature, and successful they are. I have noticed that often these men won’t get into really serious relationships unless they feel like they are successful and are able to provide for their partner. if this guy is serious about you then he will take you out to the more fancy and expensive restaurant just because they want you to know that they can take care of you and are capable people.

MARS IN VIRGO MAN might be very helpful when they are pursuing someone, they want to feel useful and beneficial to the person that they like. they will also show off their smart side, they will need you to know that they aren’t an idiot and are in fact practical and analytical. they are the type to clean the dishes and take out your trash.

if a MARS IN SAGITTARIUS likes you then they will most definitely share their life philosophy with you, they will just want to impart some of their knowledge into you. a lot of the time they become quite guru like when they like someone.

TAURUS MOON is a self fulfilling placement, unless it’s badly aspected then while growing up this person had all of their needs met and so as adults they don’t really seek emotional fulfilment and nurturing from outside sources, they might enjoy being taken care of but they don’t really need it they have an innate ability to take care of themselves and they understand the needs of their body. if the moon is afflicted by something like pluto then self-destruction is suddenly on the menu.

MARS SQUARE MOON IN SYNASTRY might be quite prone to upsetting the moon person, the energies aren’t meshing and often we see a moon person who is in tears and the mars person getting frustrated because they find the moon person overreactive and too emotional.

SCORPIO SUNS need to have very intense connections, whether that is to another person or their job or even a hobby, if they are tethering on the edge too scared to dive into the deep, then nothing meaningful or fulfilling will come out of the situation. scorpios need these intense, passionate, and dramatic connections or else they might as well feel like they shouldn’t even bother.

CANCER MOON PEOPLE (especially afflicted) often seek out partners that will baby them, they might do it unconsciously but they still do it quite often. their partners might play a type of surrogate mother, really they are trying to heal their childhood wounds by projecting their mother onto their partners. at the end of the day they need to find the mother within themselves and be capable of nurturing themselves rather than looking for that nurturance from another person.

#astrology #astro notes #astrology notes #zodiac #cancer moon #scorpio #mars square moon synastry #taurus moon #sagittarius mars #capricorn mars #virgo mars #sun sextile neptune #uranus trine sun #12th house synastry #moon in 6th house #virgo moon #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #Sagittarius #Capricorn #Aquarius #Pisces #aquarius venus

[cashmeremars]

𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞... 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 || 𝐬.𝐦

pairing: shawn mendes x reader

summary: shawn stumbles upon a coffee shop while on tour and becomes infatuated with the waitress

word count: 1.7k+

a/n: this has been in my drafts for so long... but i promise you’re in for a surprise... 

The heat of Amsterdam was relentless as Shawn continued to roam the unfamiliar streets of the city. Crossing bridges and tripping over loose rubble, Shawn sighed as his eyes scanned the stores lining the streets, hoping to find a place to settle down before heading back to his tour bus. He watched as a bicycle rider rode past him before slowing down and stopping at what seemed to be a cafe. He adjusted his jacket before reaching for his phone and checking the time. He had around 2 hours before he was expected to be back on the tour bus. Shawn smiled to himself as he followed the path the bicycle rider had just taken to get to the cafe down the street. 

As Shawn approached the front door of the cafe, he snapped a quick picture of the shop name just in case he needed to send his location to his manager. A mellow bell rang throughout the cafe as he pushed the door open. The smell of cinnamon and warm coffee danced through the air as he inhaled. The cafe was quaint, with landscape paintings lining the walls. Jazz music whispered under the sound of clanking dishes. 

Shawn sighed as he sat himself down at a booth nearest to the corner of the cafe, to ensure that no potential fans could spot him. The cafe was quite empty, as it was 2 pm on a weekday. A stained menu on the side of the table caught his eye. He reached over with a sigh, grabbing the corners of the menu to avoid touching the brown stains. A frown etched itself on his forehead as he flipped through the menu, the words splattering the page were close enough to English to follow along, but not enough to fully comprehend. Dutch, Shawn whispered to himself. He was in Amsterdam after all.

Shawn dropped the menu, opting to fiddle with the slightly tattered fabric of the booth, watching silhouettes walk past the cafe window. He closed his eyes, bopping his head along to the music flooding the cafe. 

“Are you new here?” A voice intruded Shawn’s entrancement.

“Uh, yeah,” Shawn spoke. He felt his breath constrict as he made eye contact with you. He’d truly never seen anyone as beautiful. “How could you tell?” Shawn spoke with a soft smile. He felt his heartbeat begin to pick up. 

“I’ve never seen you around here before, and you also looked a little clueless,” You point out with a laugh. 

“Oh, uh, sorry. I’m just here on tour. I’m a singer,” Shawn explains. 

“That’s cool,” you reply, raising your eyebrows. 

“Yeah. Grammy-nominated,” Shawn stammered. You nod, and his face flushed as he acknowledged his failed attempt at boasting. 

“Right,” you smile before pulling out a notepad and pen from your waist apron, “So, what would you like to order?” you say after a beat of silence. 

“Right. Right, of course.” Shawn stammered, “I don’t really know what’s good here, and I can’t really read the menu,” He says, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Ahh. I’m assuming you want me to tell you?” you question. 

“If that’s what you want, then sure. Tell me what’s good here.” Shawn spoke as he leaned forward on the table, leaning his head on his hand. He watched as you twirled the pen between your fingers. You were mesmerizing to him. You had an aura that was carefree yet so captivating. 

“What do you like?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Something sweet,” Shawn spoke, “like you,” he continued with a speck of confidence.

“Oh. I see.” You hesitate to laugh. 

“Sorry, was that a bit much?” He asked as his confidence crumbled. 

“Yeah, it was a little cheesy,” You reply, tapping the notepad with your pen. 

“Right.” Shawn’s could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. 

“You still want something sweet?” You asked. He perked up as he sensed remnants of a flirty subtext.  “On the menu, I mean.” You clarify, now just as flustered as Shawn was just a moment ago. 

“Yeah for sure. Maybe a brownie?” he fumbled with the menu once more, hoping that he’d ordered something that was an actual option. 

“Anything else?” You ask keeping your eyes on the notepad as you scribble Shawn’s order. 

“A cup of coffee,” Shawn took a deep breath in, “And your number?” he exhaled, squinting slightly to gauge your reaction. Your pen halts as your eyes pan to his. 

“Uh, coming right up.” You tilt your head before making your way back to the counter.  

Shawn sighed deeply once you were out of sight. He hadn’t realized that he wasn’t breathing properly until you’d left, leaving him to stew in his own embarrassment. He’d never behaved so awkwardly in his life, and yet you didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He could’ve chalked it up to your food service hospitality, but he sensed a glint of something unfamiliar in your eyes. She was charmed, he thought to himself.  

***

“Your order, sir.” You carefully place the coffee in front of Shawn before positioning the brownie a bit off to the side. The smell of fresh cocoa from the brownie melted his senses as he eyed the careful foam art floating on top of his coffee. He’d definitely have to visit again. 

“Shawn,” he said, “Mendes. Shawn Mendes.” He continued, placing his hand on his chest briefly. He watched her carefully in hopes that she’d recognized his name. 

“Already skipping the formalities?” You say as you wipe your hands on your apron. 

“Sure are.” He replies, “You don’t have a name tag?” He asked, eyeing the spot on your shirt where your name tag should be. 

“Yeah,” You took a quick look down at your uniform and shrugged, “It keeps me mysterious,” You continued. 

“Mysterious. That’s cool.” Shawn nods once, pursing his lips.  

“Very,” you reply, glancing around the cafe briefly. 

“Do I get to know your name?” Shawn said as you began to walk away. 

“But then what would happen to the mystery?” You quipped before disappearing behind the counter once again. 

The soft music tangled with the saccharine aroma of the coffee. He closed his eyes, as he revelled in the serene atmosphere of the empty cafe. There were no fans to bombard him, and no cameras to observe him. Nobody to perform for, or to pretend for. Just him, a cup of coffee, a brownie, and a girl who made his heart spring. 

Shawn scrolled through his phone as he gradually made his way through the honeyed meal. He watched his DMs flood full of Instagram models and influencers, but none of them compared to the waitress whose name he didn’t even know. 

“Here’s your bill, Shawn.” You lay the piece of paper in front of Shawn’s empty cup, and crumb-filled plate. 

“Thank you.” He looks up with a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes, “So, when can I get your number?” He asks. 

“It’ll be a surprise.” you shrug.

“So, are you always working here?” Shawn asks as you’re about to walk away once again. 

“I work on weekends if that’s what you’re asking” you reply, “Is there a reason why you need to know, Shawn?” you asked.

“Well, I’m only here this week for my concert, so-”

“You’re gonna try to woo me over during the short period of time you’re here?” You squint your eyes at him.

“Precisely,” He quipped.

“Well, you’re very persistent, Shawn.”

“I usually am.” Shawn knew that wasn’t true. Truthfully, he was always nervous whenever he had to speak to a girl he was fond of. He was already quite introverted as is, and speaking to you made him feel like he had frogs in his throat. 

“Charming. Well, we’ll see how your quest goes,” you laugh.

“When do you get off work?” he asked.

“Later tonight,” you said. 

“Then, I’ll be waiting right here.” Shawn folds his hands together, placing them on the table.

“Of course, you will, Prince Charming,” you raise your eyebrows in amusement as you lean over to collect the empty cup and plate.

“Does that make you my Cinderella?” he asked.

“I see the wooing has begun. Too bad I have to get back to my shift,” you turn, leaving him with the bill. 

Shawn grabbed his wallet from his back pocket, paying for the bill before texting his manager that he might be back a little later than expected.

“Excuse me? Are you Shawn?” A man with bulky glasses and a thick accent approached the table with a stone-cold expression. 

“Yes, I am.” Shawn’s back straightened instinctively as he felt himself start to tense.

“Well, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” He gestures to the door and sends a single nod of his head in Shawn’s direction. 

“Pardon?” Shawn locks his phone, placing it on the table. 

“Well, it seems that your excessive flirting with one of our employees has made her quite uncomfortable, to say the least,” The man explains. Shawn looks down and notices the similarities between the man uniform and the waitress’s uniform. He also notices the name tag sitting neatly on the man’s black shirt. 

“What?” Shawn’s eyebrows furrow together. He was hoping that he’d misheard due to the man’s accent.

“You asked for her number, what days she worked, what time she gets off, and then said that you would stay until she was done working. I mean, that’s a bit much don’t you think, sir?” The man folded his arms as his face remained stoic. 

“I was just trying to-” Shawn hesitates to explain. He knew that he was awkward and nervous at times, but he didn’t expect that he could misread a situation so incorrectly. 

“It doesn’t matter what you were trying to do. It very clearly did not work,” The man said. His gaze bores into Shawn’s. The longer the man stared, the more Shawn felt his own composure falter. “Will you be leaving?” The man asked. Shawn snaps out of his fear-induced trance, scrambling for his phone as he shoves his wallet into his back pocket.

“Oh, sorry. Yeah, I’ll get going. Tell her I’m sorry about all of that.” Shawn’s hands flail wildly as he tries to explain while struggling to get out of his seat. 

“Thank you for visiting our coffee shop. You probably shouldn’t come back.” The man pats Shawn’s back as he escorts him out of the cafe. 

“Yeah, uh… yeah, thank you for the experience,” He mumbled. 

Shawn left the shop with a belly full of coffee, a half-eaten brownie, and the urge to throw it all up.

masterlist

fic recs

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes x fem!reader

[eds6ngel]

another idea: reader going over to robin and vickie’s with steve for dinner one night, robin talks to reader about how good reader is for steve, little bonding moment with robin, and reader starts to feel deeper love, then fluff with steve and maybe a reciprocation of feelings? I think that’s it for now, but you don’t have to do any of them! thank you so much for writing the series, its soooo good and I can’t wait for any spin-offs!

hi my love!! i started off with this one as it goes in the order i'd like to tackle my asks in! i changed it up slightly (not too much), so i hope you enjoy!! ♡

warnings: dad!steve. singledad!steve. 90s!au. fem!reader. use of y/n. swearing. kissing. a lil bit of making out. allusions to sex. pet names. food mentions. r is mentioned as unlabeled (so you can assign the label according to your identity!!) r being an ally. fluff. comfort. love confessions!! [2.3k].

full 'when i kissed the teacher' masterlist.

“Babe?” Steve asks you, currently attending to the dishes piled in the sink from your beautiful handmade soup the two of you had for lunch. Alena was currently staying with Jonathan and Nancy, having a sleepover with her friend Ashley, which meant you had the place to yourselves.

“Uh huh?” you reply, not tearing your eyes away from the very intriguing book about the psychology of the human mind.

“You’re accepting, right?”

The question draws you away from the paperback, looking behind you to where Steve was scrubbing away at a green bowl, placing it neatly on the drying rack. “Yeah, I would say I am. Why?” The question seemed out of the blue, almost unordinary for him. It’s not like you had an issue with said question, it was just the timing that was confusing.

“Just… I really hope she doesn’t kill me for this,” Steve mumbles to himself, just loud enough for you to catch the tail end of, “You know Robin, she’s uh… She’s a lesbian, had a girlfriend for nine years. That’s okay with you… right?”

You smile, “Of course it’s okay. It’s more than okay. People can love whoever they want to love.” You were very passionate about this topic. You hadn’t particularly labeled your own sexuality, but you were striving for the ones that didn’t fit into the heteronormative society to have as many rights as you did. You frankly thought it was stupid that they didn’t already, and that as long as relationships are consensual and healthy, anybody of age should be allowed to love and potentially have sex with whoever they wanted.

Steve sighs out, chuckling lightly, “Oh thank God. I was so scared for a second.”

“Babe, if I didn’t support gay people, I shouldn’t even be deserving of your time. Besides… I’ve been to a few protests in my life,” you smirk, quickly looking back down at your book to leave Steve standing there in shock.

“You’ve been to protests?”

“Mhmm,” you hum, “College is a wild ride babe. You end up doing things you never thought you would ever do.”

“Huh… Anyway,” he shakes his running thoughts off, “I was asking because I was wondering if you’d like to go on a double date with them. You know, me and you, Robin and her girlfriend Vickie, that sort of thing?”

“Of course!” you happily agree, “When were you thinking?”

“Well, I’ll have to check with the girls, but since Alena isn’t back until tomorrow evening, I was thinking we could grab lunch somewhere tomorrow afternoon?”

“That sounds great babe! I’m totally down.”

He puts the final dish on the rack, walking up behind you and placing a tender kiss on the crown of your head, “Great, let me just give them a call, see if they’re down too.”

“There’s nothing good on this menu,” Robin whines, “You couldn’t have chosen a better restaurant, Steve?”

The four of you were squeezed into a booth of a small sandwich shop on the outskirts of Hawkins. Steve had his hand on your thigh as he scanned through the menu to the right of you, Robin and Vickie sat opposite.

Steve scoffs, “Just because you’re an extremely fussy eater, Robin. Everyone else here seems to be fine with the menu. The menu’s good, isn’t it, babe?” His question holds a slight waver of uncertainty, his best friend making his insecurities come out.

You take a quick look up at Robin over the top of your menu, smirking away as you pretend to cringe, “Well…”

Steve’s eyes open wide as he thinks he made the biggest mistake of his life, you having to quickly put a reassuring hand on your shoulder to calm him down, “I’m only kidding babe, it’s wonderful.”

“Well, according to someone it isn’t,” he narrows his eyes at Robin, her sticking her tongue out at him. You and Vickie give each other a look, as if you were both mothers parenting your immature children.

The waiter soon comes, Robin ordering a plain chicken sandwich, as suspected, Steve a ham and cheese toastie, Vickie a cheese and salad sandwich, and you deciding on a pulled pork sandwich.

“So,” you begin to start the conversation back up, “I’ve heard the two of you have been together for nine years. That’s incredible!”

Vickie holds Robin’s hand in hers on top of the table, the other leaning against her cheek, “Yeah. Almost at the nine year anniversary. You know, it took Robin two years to ask me out. She had a crush on me since the start of ‘86, took her until the Spring of ‘88 to make a move. We were both just blubbering messes up until that point. She finally asked me out, we had our first date, and then the rest is history I suppose.”

“So, just like me and Steve,” you giggle, Steve squeezing your thigh as he smiles down at you, Robin noticing how in love her best friend looks. “Always the whole mutual pining game, huh?”

“Apparently so. After the earthquake happened here a decade ago, we had to help out at the school for anyone affected,” Vickie explains, “Well, Robin and I got put on making PB&J’s, and I got so rambly and nervous in her presence that I buttered both pieces of bread with peanut butter.”

“Yeah, I was sorting clothes, watching the two of you be all cutesy and shit from across the room.”

Robin lets her mouth hang open, “You were watching that day?”

Steve nods with a grin on his face, “Uh, yeah? My best friend talking to her crush who she wouldn’t shut up about for months? And the two of you laughing and getting along? Of course I was watching.”

Vickie sighs happily, “I’m trying to think of some questions to ask the two of you, but I think we know every detail of your relationship.”

Robin raises her eyebrows with a smirk next to her girlfriend, “Oh yeah. Every goddamn time we saw him. ‘She called me handsome.’ ‘She’s just so pretty.’ ‘What am I supposed to do?’ Over and over again. It was constant reassurance, trying to encourage him to ask you out.”

“Just to let you know though,” Vickie points at you, “We did not encourage him to kiss you and therefore lose your job. We take absolutely no responsibility in that.”

You brush her off with a wave of your hand, “I mean, it didn’t end up so bad in the end. I mean, no insult to Hawkins or anything—”

“Babe,” Steve interrupts you, “We’ve all grown up here. You can insult this place however you like.”

“I don’t like to be rude though honey, you know that!” you laugh as Steve presses a kiss to your cheek, Robin and Vickie giving each other a knowing look, “Okay, fine. Just to preface, I loved the kids I taught, okay? Nothing wrong on their part. Just… some of the teachers were extremely mean in the staff room, some parents were just absolutely awful and the place itself was just… I dunno, something felt off.”

“Yeah, because it’s a piece of shit,” Robin truthfully states, Vickie jabbing her lightly in the ribs, Robin letting out an “Ow!”

You giggle, “Yeah, it kind of is, I guess. At least in comparison to Ernie Pyle. I suppose parents take their kids education a lot more seriously there. The student population is mostly made up of ethnic minorities from disadvantaged backgrounds, so the parents want to give their kids what they never had growing up. Plus, I think it’s around 90% of the teachers already have at least three years of prior teaching experience. It’s one of the reasons they took me on actually.”

“Well, I’m glad you got your happy ending. Perfect relationship and a perfect job,” Vickie points out, “Seems like a total win.”

“Yeah,” you look up at Steve lovingly, “It was.”

You had all enjoyed your meals, no matter how adventurous your selections were. Before you all got ready to leave, Steve excused himself to the bathroom, Robin sipping the final bits of her strawberry milkshake. “I’ve never seen dingus so in love before. I imagine you must get fed up with how much he says it.”

But, that’s the thing: he’d never said it. You weren’t gonna critique him on that, you were happy to take things as slow as possible, but there was that lingering thought in the back of your mind that maybe he wasn’t as in love as you were. And you didn’t want to scare him off by saying those three words if he didn’t feel that confident in the relationship yet.

“Actually, he hasn’t said it yet…” you let out.

“What?”

“Are you kidding?”

The two girls sit there in shock as you shrug it off. “No, you have to be lying,” Robin says, “Dingus has been in love with you since… well, forever!“

“Yeah, my love’s not kidding,” Vickie adds on, “I’m pretty sure he told us after you two did the Christmas Fayre together.”

“Probably even alluded to it before that.” Robin looks you in the eye, “You do love him, don’t you?”

You nod, “Of course I love him, Robin! I just don’t want to say it, and then he doesn’t feel the same—“

“Y/N, I’m telling you,” Vickie interrupts you, “He is 100% definitely in love with you. I know that for a fact. We both do.”

Robin nods, making you lean back in your chair and pinch the bridge of your nose, “Why won’t he say it then?”

“Y/N,” Robin starts, “The first girl Steve ever said ‘I love you’ to was Nancy Wheeler two weeks into their relationship, and they broke up a year later. The second was Alena’s mother who walked out when her daughter was a few months old, leaving Steve alone with a child to raise by himself. I think he’s just scared to say it in case you leave, since that’s all he knows.”

Vickie nods along, “But, if you say it first… I think that he might calm down a little. Realise that you are the one taking initiative.”

“Just say it…” Robin says softly, “What else have you got left to lose?”

But, you could have a lot to lose. What if he was just saying it to Robin and Vickie and doesn’t properly mean it? What if you tell him and he doesn’t reciprocate? You’d lose your whole relationship.

You have no time to think as Steve re-appears, reaching for his denim jacket the other side of you, “Right, we ready to go?”

Robin and Vickie smile at you, giving you a look as they begin to stand, collecting their belongings as the four of you head out the main entrance of the shop.

After bidding farewell to Robin and Vickie, Steve drove you back home, him having to clean the house for when Alena got home, and you having to prepare resources for your class tomorrow.

He pulls up to your apartment complex, leading you to the entrance as always, like the gentlemen he is.

You grab his hand, Steve noticing that it was slightly shaking wrapped around his, “Um… Steve? I just want to say something before you go.”

He simply stares back, you taking it as a sign to continue talking. You let out a breath. It was now or never.

“I understand that you’ve been wanting to take this entire thing slowly, and I get that. But, I just want to reassure you that I am in this for the long run. I love how you treat me, and care for me. I love the dates you take me on, they are so varied. I love how kind, and caring, and slightly stupid you can be sometimes. And I guess what I’m trying to say is that… I love you.”

You can audibly hear how his breath hitches in his throat, your brain instantly taking that as a mistake, “But, don’t feel as if you need to reciprocate or anything, because I don’t want to pressure you into doing that. I just needed to let it out—”

Your rambling is stopped by Steve’s lips crashing into yours. You can’t help but let the slight moan slip from your mouth as he deepens the kiss, your hands wrapped around his shoulders as he cups your cheeks. Before the kiss can escalate, Steve pulls apart from you, leaning his forehead against yours as he whispers back, “I love you too,” a goofy smile gracing his features. “Shit, I was just so scared to say anything in case it made you leave, as that’s what usually happens whenever I say those words—”

It’s now your time to interrupt him with a giggle, “I know baby, Robin kind of told me everything.”

He shakes his head, “God, I hate her. Always revealing secrets about me.”

“Damn,” you huff, “Maybe I should hang out with her more, get more juicy details about you.”

He leans back, raising his eyebrows at you, “Absolutely not. I’ve revealed way too much of my life to her.”

You both laugh, “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

“I love you too, Y/N L/N,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you once again. You melt into the kiss, Steve swiping his tongue across your lips, asking for permission to which you accept, opening your mouth and letting his tongue slip in, the lingering taste of his sandwich invading your senses. The two of you moan, you pulling back to catch your breath, realising the two of you were technically stood directly next to a busy road. “Amy’s out with her boyfriend today… So, I have the apartment to myself…”

Steve looks down at his watch, before turning his gaze back to you, smirking and seductively replying, “I think we have time.”

i hope you enjoyed!! i will get to the rest of your asks (and everybody else's) tomorrow and during the course of next week!! ♡

taglist: @livsters @bakugouswh0r3 @nix-rose @ihatepeanutss @cats00089 @suitelif3 @clincallyonline17 @crowssixof @starkeylover @eris-rose-86 @frostandflamesfanfic

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington drabble #dad!steve harrington #singledad!steve harrington #stranger things #eds6ngel

[nolita-fairytale]

Meeting Pastry Chef Luca from The Bear For the First Time Headcanon

a/n: inspired by @superhoeva, i thought i'd take a crack at writing a chef luca headcanon because we're all dying rn for will poulter as a sticker-sleeve tattooed chef. would anyone read this as a fic?? let me know.

edit: (7/3/23) i turned this into a fic called 'burn your life down.' feel free to read if you'd like!

you own a small restaurant in copenhagen. it's only been open for a year (this could potentially change if i write said fic). it's nothing fancy, but the food has soul. the food is an extension of yourself -- it tells the story of you.

inspired by noma, you grow some of your own produce outside of the restaurant in raised garden beds.

you begin to notice (as it's an open kitchen) and a smaller spot, that a tall, blonde brit has become one of your regulars. he comes in the same day each week at the same time. he always looks tired, like he's unwinding from a long day's worth of hard work, but he's always kind to your staff, and he has a quiet, powerful confidence to him.

week after week, he's there. he always orders one dish and one glass of wine, before paying the bill and leaving for the evening without a word.

your staff speculate about him: who is he, what must he do, that he's so handsome that he must have a partner. you don't pay much attention to the gossip, but it's hard not to notice that it's become part of his routine.

he always orders something different -- eager to try any new kind of special that you have on the menu that day.

it's not till one slower night of service that you finally meet him. you're short staffed that night and so you end up running plates out to tables -- finding it a great opportunity to connect more with your diners on a personal level. it's a very american hospitality concept, but since you have the time, you figure, why not?

he comes in at his usual time on sunday evening and you're curious to learn more about your weekly diner. you introduce yourself after walking his plate out and he's surprised that it's you who's serving him this evening.

"you're the chef?" he asks. "yes." "i can't think of the last time i saw a head chef work front of house..." he shakes his head in disbelief. "we're a little short staffed tonight." he seems impressed, raising his glass of wine to you. "cheers."

at the end of dinner service, one of your servers hands you a handwritten note that luca's left for you, inviting you to the restaurant he works at. the note reads: "thank you for all of the great meals. i'd like to return the favor, that is, if you're open to it," followed by a time, a date for tomorrow, and an address.

as soon as you realize which restaurant it is (much fancier, michelin starred, held in high regard) you only panic a little, but decide to go anyways. since both of your restaurants are closed on monday, you're even more nervous about the fact that you're meeting him at his tonight, while it's closed, considering you've barely had a conversation with him and how intimidating of a reputation the restaurant has.

he greets you at the door, right on time, and he leads you past the closed dining room, back to the kitchen where he's created a few dishes for you to try: two from his regular menu and one inspired by a dish of yours he's had.

"all of this... you did all of this for me... why?" you muster up the courage to ask. "your food is inspired and i don't think i've had something this inspired in a long time. and as chefs, this is what we do. we feed each other." and it's the beginning of, you're not quite sure what, but whatever it is, you're glad he walked into your restaurant however many weeks ago.

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction

[carmybears]

Soup Season

pairing: carmy berzatto X reader

summary: it's cold and dreary in Chicago, and reader has one meal on their mind.

(I saw the tags that @omnom808art left on this post and knew there was fic potential there. It just had to finally get cold in [redacted hometown] for me to find it)

word count: 750

Wind howls outside your windows, the skies gray and overcast with the promise of a frigid rainstorm that will be rolling through the city. But inside your apartment, you are cozy and warm as your head rests gently upon Carmy’s chest. The glowing LED of the clock beside your bed tells you that it’s still early, much too early for the rare occasion when both you and Carmy have the day off, but you’re awake anyway, tracing your fingers lazily over the arm that holds you firm to his chest. You close your eyes and take a deep breath as you savor the moment — both you and Carmy unhurried, soft and warm under the enchanting spell of sleep.

“I wanna make you something special for dinner tonight,” Carmy muses, his voice still carrying the slight rasp of sleepiness.

“You don’t have to cook for me on your night off, you know.”

“Sure I do,” he insists as he twines his fingers in yours, bringing your knuckles up to his lips for a featherlight kiss. “I cook for everyone else in the world every other day. Lemme just cook for my favorite person tonight, ok?”

He’s looking down at you with such a soft fondness in his eyes that you relent immediately, nodding in agreement.

“What sounds good to you?”

You stretch your legs out underneath the sheets, toes pointing toward the edge of the mattress where the bedding is cool enough to make you shiver.

“Something warm,” you request as you curl back into the warmth of his body.

As Carmy takes a moment to think, you resume tracing your fingertips along smooth ridges of scar tissue and precise black lines of ink that adorn his forearms and hands.

“Lasagne?” He suggests, and you consider it, fingers pausing over the globe in a Pyrex before shaking your head no.

He mentions a few other dishes — some pasta dishes, a pot roast— but none of them sound quite right until the idea hits you as you tangle your fingers in with his tattooed ones.

“I got it!” You exclaim, sitting up suddenly and leaning over to the nightstand, rummaging around in the top drawer for a moment before finding the Sharpie you’re looking for.

Coyly, you turn back to Carmy and reach out to him.

“Gimme your hand.”

He extends his hand out to you and you take it in yours, turning so that he can’t quite see what you’re doing. You study the lines and shapes of the letters inked onto his fingers before uncapping the marker and doing your best to imitate the style of the lettering.

“What are you doing?” He laughs behind you.

“Adding to your collection,” you say, capping the marker. “And creating the menu for tonight.”

You release his hand back to him and he studies his fingers for a moment, specifically the letter “P” that you’ve added to his pinky – right next to the letters S-O-U.

“Soup?” He chuckles. “You want soup?”

“Yes!” You toss the marker back onto the nightstand.

“Ok but you’ve gotta give me something more specific than that,” Carmy chides, grabbing you around the waist.

“You want tortilla soup?” His fingers dance along your sides as you squirm away from him with a yelp of laughter. “Butternut squash? Minestrone?”

He’s fully tickling you now and you let out a shriek as you try to roll out of reach.

“Tortellini soup? Broccoli cheddar? Chicken and orzo?” His fingers are unrelenting as they seek you out, but he is laughing just as hard as you are.

“Stop, stop!” You cry out, collapsing down onto the pillows. “That actually sounds really good!”

Carmy’s hands still over you and he props himself up on one elbow as he looks at you.  

“Which one?”

“The tortellini— it sounds really tasty.”

“Tortellini soup it is,” he pushes himself up into a sitting position, starting to swing his legs out from under the covers. “I’ll have to just run out and grab a few things.”

“You’re going out in this weather?”

He follows your gaze to the window, where fat drops of rain are now steadily pummeling the glass.

“Ok, maybe coffee first.”

“Mmm, coffee,” you agree. “Also known as caffeine soup.”

“Caffeine s-“ He doesn’t even get the word out before a grin overtakes his face and he’s shaking his head at you as he presses a kiss to your cheek and stands. “One steaming hot cup of caffeine soup coming right up.”

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy x reader fluff #carmen berzatto x reader fluff #mine

[starflungwaddledee]

I would like to submit: 🪞, 🧋, and 🥘 if I may for Starstruck for the OC ask!!

[ >>> kirby oc ask meme <<< ]

🪞 (Mirror) - What would their Mirror World counterpart be like? If they are a Mirror World counterpart, what traits of theirs are reflected? Do the two of them get along?

more in-depth answer on a potential mirror world starstruck here, but i think in short... she might not exist. for a variety of reasons that are only partially to do with her. if she did exist and the two met, i think that prime starstruck would be hopelessly traumatised by the experience

🧋 (Boba Tea) - Come up with a Kirby Café item themed around your OC! It can be a savoury dish, a drink, a dessert, or something else entirely.

YES this is my favourite sort of thing actually i LOVE LOVE LOVE foods themed after characters!! i know i said i wouldn't draw anything for these but i HAVE TO for this one...

she would have a miniature tea-style menu item to reflect her eating style, which would come on a custom themed platter. it would be comprised of many small dishes and it would have savouries, sweets, and a drink all in one. for sweets there would be cotton candy macarons with a sherbet filling, and candied white peaches; with an optional add-on for a stack of star-shaped cinnamon-apple pancakes if you have some bigger eaters along with you. for savouries there'd be crumbed camembert cheese stars, served with plum chutney (in a take-home custom dish) and the most picture perfect pre-sliced apple you've ever seen, and coronation chicken sandwiches with cranberries the drink is a fizzing soda, using peach and white-grape flavour syrups to get a gradient, and it's topped with a thin layer of condensed milk

🥘 (Stew) - Do they have any favourite foods or comfort foods? What are their eating habits like? If absorbed by the Cook ability, what healing item would they summon?

she's happy to eat just about anything- edible or not- so long as she doesn't have to eat a lot of it. eating too much tends to make her feel a bit off, and she doesn't get hungry often so eating is not something that comes naturally to her. if it weren't for others she'd simply forget more often than not. her favourite foods are either things that are social that she can share with others (pizza, nachos, tacos, big bowl of fries), light snacks (crackers, dried fruits), or cheeses. she also seems to enjoy eating soda cans but that might be for the bit as much as anything i think for the cook ability she'd give a silly little peach, because that's kinda what she looks like. either that or macarons, which already exist in game!

#asks #starstruck dee #ask meme

[thebluestbluewords]

mother knows best

They meet the heroes of their parent’s stories. 

It’s not as bad as Evie has been anticipating. 

Here’s the thing about being friends with the king: it provides a lot more than just friendship. Diplomatic immunity isn’t quite the word Evie would use to describe their new status, but there’s a sort of leeway that they get with adults now that Ben has shown that he’s willing to vouch for them, and none of the powerful, important, interesting families who need something from the young king would risk being too blatantly rude to his friends. 

So. They meet the heroes from their parent’s stories, and it goes fine. 

+

Evie smiles politely at Snow, who is technically her sister. In another world, they might have grown up together. Might have been friends, or at least acquaintances, trapped together in the same castles, avoiding the same woman together. 

Or not. 

“I read your latest piece in the historical fashion journal,” Evie says politely, over the dinner that has been arranged by her sister, so that they can meet one another in a common space with the least potential for problems to arise. It’s a nice restaurant, the sort that has tiny candles in fancy glass dishes on the table, and a separate menu just for wines. It’s nice enough that Evie is glad she wore her navy blue kitten heels, even though her feet are going to be aching where they’re tight on her heels later. “It was very well-written. I especially enjoyed the section on beadwork in the western kingdoms.” 

Snow offers a faint smile. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” 

Evie sits perfectly still. She’s been trained by her mother on how to be polite and unobtrusive during a formal dinner, and how to be sweet and desirable for a prince during a dinner date, but meeting her sister for their first real chance at getting to know each other isn’t quite either of those things, and she’s not sure how to proceed properly, aside from attempting more polite flattery and small talk. 

It’s not polite to fidget with her utensils, no matter how much Evie would like something to do with her hands. Maybe she can sip her water, once it arrives. She’ll sip carefully, without messing up her lipstick. 

“Your hair looks lovely,” Snow says, unexpectedly. “Blue suits you.” 

Evie does not jump. 

“Thank you,” she says instead, and keeps her hands out of her hair, which is indeed lovely. “It’s my natural color.” 

Snow nods. “I remember. Grimhilde’s is the same way.”

Evie hasn’t seen her mother’s natural hair since she was a child. They’ve been careful to keep her pretty and perfect, just in case an unexpected chance with a royal family ever came up, even though she’s been doubly in exile for most of her teenage years. They put countless hours (approximately 20,344 hours, Evie’s brain supplies unhelpfully) into keeping her looking beautiful. More than that, if she counts the time spent brewing potions and sewing pretty dresses and educating herself in speech and literature and music and scheming, all so she could play the part of an Auradon Princess and eventually secure them a future off the isle they’d been cursed to live on. 

So much time spent on Evie meant that there was less time left for Grimhilde, and instead of maintaining two heads of thick, wavy blue hair on a desolate island with limited hair products, her mother tied all of hers back under a thick, fashionable hood, and never let her daughter catch a glimpse of it aside from the very end of her braid when she pulled it out to trim. 

Based on the glimpses, Evie would have sworn that her mother had darker hair than Evie herself does, closer to black than blue. It’s fascinating and nauseating all at the same time to think that maybe Evie looks like her, under the makeup and the spells and the enchantments designed to work without true magic, to keep her ageless and unwrinkled and beautiful despite the passage of time over the island. 

Evie loves her mother. 

Except for when she hates her, but that’s the nature of family, or so she’s been told. 

She doesn’t— 

It’s hard to know what family is supposed to be like when her only examples to follow are her mother, and the women in front of her. 

“Thank you,” Evie says, and does not let her voice waver. “I’ve been told—well, I haven’t exactly been told that I look like her, but that’s because there’s not exactly a lot of people on the island who know what she used to look like.” 

Snow White smiles, and her lips are as red as cherries, and her teeth are as white as snow, and her hair, when she brushes a loose strand back, is as dark and velvety as the night sky. “I don’t know either. She wasn’t very sentimental, I’m afraid. I spent most of my own childhood steering clear of her schemes to marry me off to the most advantageous bachelor. It didn’t leave me much time for staring at photographs of a stepmother that I begged my father not to marry. I assume you did much the same?” 

Evie’s mother loves her. 

“Not exactly.” Evie says, around lips that feel strange and numb. “She loved me.” 

Evie’s mother loved her, and so she spent hours upon countless hours shaping her daughter into someone who could be loved in return. Someone who could be a mirror and reflect that love back on a man who could save them. 

Evie also, critically, didn’t have anywhere to go outside of the castle that they shared. So there’s that. She couldn’t have steered clear, even if she’d wanted to. 

“I’m surprised to hear that,” Snow says softly. “She was always such a strong personality. I didn’t think she’d be able to love a child the way she loved herself, but I suppose it’s different when it’s your own child.” 

“I suppose so.” Evie agrees, because that’s one of the lessons her mother ingrained in her bones. Be polite, be proper, and don’t disagree with the adults, even if they’re wrong. 

“Not that it’s your fault, of course. It’s not your fault that she loved you,” Snow says. It’s never Evie’s fault, because Evie is wicked and unlovable and only a villain like her mother could ever manage to care for her. 

“It’s just, I’m surprised,” Evie’s stepsister continues. She’s watching Evie’s face and it’s too much, except for how there’s no other choice. There’s nothing to do but endure the endless beautiful stare of her stepsister’s shiny, beautiful eyes. “I didn’t think she was capable of love, not after what she did to me. I’m glad that she was able to care for you, after everything.”

Evie’s mouth is dry. 

She’s been trained in speech since she was a child, the delusions of a mother convinced that her daughter would one day need to address a crowd of adoring subjects. She’s on the debate team now, and even when her arguments are weak, she can deliver them with such elegant phrasing that she sometimes wins anyway. 

She has seen more blood than this woman in front of her will ever see, and she has survived her mother for sixteen years, and come out the other side alive. 

She will not cower. 

“Mother loved me.” Evie says, slowly. Slow and steady. Flawless Auradon diction, which she can emulate perfectly thanks to years of lessons under her mother’s less-than-gentle hand, instead of the muddier Isle accent that she hides. “I’m very sorry that she hurt you, but I am not her, and I’m not her to discuss her tonight. If she is all that you’re interested in talking about, it would be a better use of both of our time to attend dinner elsewhere. Separately.” 

“Evie, no,” Snow begins, reaching out over the table. Her nails, Evie notices, are perfectly polished into natural almond shapes, and she’s wearing a slightly glossy peach polish. “No. I’m sorry. I want you to stay, really.” 

Evie does not want to touch this woman’s hands. 

“I should probably go home.” Evie demurs. “I have a lot of homework, and I really can’t afford to make a mistake on my next paper.” 

“You could come home with me!” Snow offers, letting her hands sink back to the table. “I have a lovely library, and my husband, he’s a wonderful writer. He could help you with your assignment, and maybe somewhere more casual—“ 

Evie gives in to the urge to fix her hair, and brushes one of her trailing curls out of her face. “I don’t know what you want, but if it’s to hear about my mom, I can’t do that.” 

“I want to meet you.” her stepsister lies. “The real you, not just the person you put on for the cameras. Please do stay. Come home with me.” 

“I can’t,” Evie says, and it might be the most honest she’s been all night. “I really can’t.” 

Snow White is lovely to a fault, and her dark eyes are shiny when she looks up at her stepsister. “You can.” 

She can’t.

There’s too many memories that she’s not willing to touch here, in a nice restaurant with a sister she’s met one time. She’s got a paper to start working on when she gets home, and her schedule (written in blue ink on the first section of her daily planner, which is thick and smells only the faintest bit like mildew) only accounted for this dinner meeting taking two hours, and it’s at least thirty minutes back to Charmingdale, there and back again is more like an hour, and that’s if they spend no time eating, and while Evie could certainly afford to skip one meal, it’s not polite to say that in front of company who’s been so generous this far, and Snow didn’t just offer dinner, she offered help, which will only put her more behind schedule when she’ll have to redo the work later. 

“I’m so sorry,” Evie says calmly, placing her hands back on her lap, away from her face and her hair and everything she’s inching to check. A princess doesn’t adjust her hair in polite company, and she might be a disgraced daughter of a queen-in-exile here in Auradon, but back home Evie was a princess, and she’s going to act as such. “I really do have a lot of homework tonight. It’s a very kind offer to bring me back to your castle, but if we’re not going to eat here I need to get back to school.” 

#my fic #descendants #descendants fic #evie grimhilde

[mumms-the-word]

Settling In

Day 4 for the BG3 Fic February Challenge. The Faerûnian February challenge? The write-BG3-fic-for-29-days challenge. That challenge.

This one was tricky for me, and honestly I could have picked any Tav for it. But I chose Dani for today, with some bonus notes about other Tavs at the end.

Check out the Masterlist of my fics here.

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4. Camp chores

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Dani stretched her arms high over her head, letting every inch of the muscles in her arms find sweet relief from the tension they’d been carrying since early that morning. At least, for a brief moment. The second she dropped her arms, all the aches came back and settled in, as if they planned to stay for good.

Typical. You’d think that after nearly two weeks of adventure, her body would have gotten used to it, but no. Then again, the alternative was ceremorphosis, a fate she was miraculously escaping for some weird reason. So maybe a few muscle aches weren’t so bad, compared to the alternative.

This was her life now. Days on the road, wandering the wilderness, following leads, getting into trouble, getting out of trouble, and then setting up camp to get a good night’s rest, only to start it all over again in the morning. 

She set her hands on her hips and watched her companions a moment. Like her, they had all fallen into a kind of rhythm for camp each night. Almost without fail, everyone sort of ended up doing the same things, half-consciously assigning chores to themselves and making sure that everything that needed to get done actually got done. 

Gale was on cooking duty, as he was every night, a duty he would probably never sacrifice. Subject myself to the culinary whims of the likes of Lae’zel? Or worse, Wyll? No thank you, he’d once told her when she suggested he let someone else cook. I’d sooner attempt to sink my teeth into a live worg than suffer one of their dubious dishes.

Dani had thought about suggesting Shadowheart as a potential replacement for cooking duty, but Shadowheart probably considered a bottle of wine and half a pastry as dinner. And besides, Gale was a good cook and no one was complaining. Once, he'd turned a few smoked links of sausage, some cheese wedges, and some fruit into a damn charcuterie board. Lae'zel had mocked him for it, but Dani had never had anything so fancy in her life, even in the city.

Wyll had gotten the firewood for the fire and was already back on the prowl for more sticks and bits of wood for later that night. They’d only recently discovered that Wyll was a duke’s son—specifically Duke Ulder Ravengard’s son—and the knowledge made so much of his behavior make sense for Dani. Like the fact that when it was his turn to do the dishes, they usually came back half-clean, because Wyll’s version of a clean dish was dunking a dirty plate into the river until it came back looking free of crumbs. Or the fact that his shirt was actively unraveling and he barely seemed to notice. Or the fact that when Dani opened their drink chest—because of course she liked to keep things organized, Brann would have killed her if she let her stuff just rattle around in various containers in camp—he had to have a thorough discussion with Gale about what was on the menu before choosing his wine to pair with it.

Oh Wyll. He made her laugh. At least he could be relied upon for a good story at night, something he and Dani could talk about for hours.

Dani’s gaze flicked over to Astarion, who had already set up his tent and was lounging against his faded, embroidered pillows, reading a book with a telltale bored expression. He abjectly refused to do any camp chores on principle. He didn’t eat regular food, he didn’t need the warmth of the fire, and the one time Gale suggested he clean the dishes (since no one in camp liked to do the dishes and it was only fair that they all take turns), he threatened to toss the dishes in a wooden crate and float it down the Chionthar. Out of sight, out of mind, he’d said. Shadowheart had done the dishes that night instead. 

But he did his share, too, Dani reminded herself. As a high elf and a vampire, the man didn’t sleep. As long as he wasn’t hunting for blood to keep himself strong, he was their most reliable watchman. Strange as it seemed to trust a vampire, she slept better at night knowing he'd be keeping watching for most of it. Though she wished he would stop reading the Necromancy of Thay at night. They were all starting to hear the whispers from that damned book by now.

“Hey, Dan.” Karlach walked by with one of the camp crates hefted easily on her shoulder. Scratch followed at her heels, tongue lolling out, happy to get some exercise following Karlach around. “Where do you want this?”

“Which one is that?"

"Spare clothes, I think."

"Oh, right” She looked around the camp for a moment before shrugging. “Just set it next to the library rock. I should probably go through it. We’re low on funds.”

“You got it, soldier. Want me to do the same with the armor and weapons?”

“Sure. I’ll see what needs sorting.”

She watched Karlach walk off, Scratch once more trailing behind. Karlach set down the crate before crossing to the other side of camp to grab some other heavy thing. No matter where they set up camp, Karlach was there to heft things from one side to the other, helping everyone set up their spaces. Some of the companions had heavy belongings and Dani was glad she wasn’t the one having to haul stuff like Astarion and Shadowheart’s whole ass potted plants or Lae’zel’s whetstone or Gale’s ever growing book collection out of the magical chest of holding. Just tell me where to drop it, soldier, was her common refrain. Karlach was happy to move stuff around camp, especially if it meant escaping dish duty.

Although, the more Dani thought about it, the more she wondered why they weren’t asking Withers to just wave his hand and set everything up for them. Then again, she knew what he’d say if she asked him.

No.

Grumpy old bag of bones. She hoped he wasn’t lonely while half their camp was galavanting off on adventures. She wondered if anyone that stayed behind in camp talked to him. Half the time she sort of forgot he was there, he was so quiet. 

Pushing that thought aside for now, she went over to the library rock and sat down in the chair beside it. The big old rock served as the camp desk, more or less, heaped with books and maps and notes she (and Gale) had collected and used to plan their next move. It had sort of become her space, even though anyone could use it. 

Opening one of the crates that Karlach had set down by the rock, she started to sort the items into three piles. Stuff she wanted to keep, just to have extra supplies, stuff she wasn’t sure she wanted to do yet, and stuff she wanted to sell. She’d reorganize everything back in their respective crates once she was done, but she wanted to see everything she had to work with and plan out what needed to stay and what needed to go.

Old habits died hard. She’d learned to keep up with her belongings and travel light when she was part of the Merry Rovers. Now, out here as a ragtag band of adventurers, the last thing they needed was stuff to weigh them down. It was much, much better to have coin instead.

So every night, or almost every night, she went through all their extra stuff and made sure everything was organized in the correct boxes, crates, and chests in the camp. It made everyone's lives easier, and she found plenty of things to sell for a bit more coin in her pockets.

She could never have too much gold, after all.

As she was frowning over some of their extra weapons, daggers and javlins and the like, Lae’zel came over to stand nearby, arms cross. “What do you intend to do with all of those weapons?” she asked.

“I haven’t decided yet.” She looked up at Lae’zel. “I don’t think anyone needs a replacement weapon, do they?”

“A replacement? No. I’ve made sure that everyone’s current weapons are sharp and ready for battle in the morning,” she said. “Except for your rapier. I will take that now, if you don’t mind.” She said it not as a polite suggestion, but as if she expected no argument. She even held out her hand expectantly.

Dani reached behind her and pulled her rapier from her sheathe, handing it over hilt-first. This was Lae’zel’s preferred chore, and Dani wasn’t about to argue. T’chk, she’d say. What do you know about maintaining a sharp edge on your blades? Dani’s answer was absoutely nothing. She barely knew how the spin the grindstone. 

But Lae’zel abhorred bad weapon maintenance, and she also trusted absolutely no one with her grindstone, so she was inevitably the one who kept everyone’s weapons sharp, oiled up, and clean. She might have sharp words to say to everyone for the state of their weapons and armor, but Dani was endlessly grateful she kept them all battle-ready.

“Do you need any extra blades?” Dani asked. “If not, I was planning on just selling the lot. Maybe keep a few daggers on hand.”

“One can never have too many daggers,” Astarion said across the way, turning a page in his book. Sometimes it was uncanny how good his hearing was.

Lae’zel rolled her eyes, but otherwise ignored him. “Do what you want with your blades. I will return shortly.”

She left Dani to her sorting. Dani crossed her legs beneath her in the chair and began packing away the things she wanted to keep. As she was folding the extra shirts, Shadowheart walked up with an armful of fabric. Clothes, blankets, even tent material.

“Does any of that need washing?” Shadowheart asked. “I’m about to take this batch to the river, now that we have a bit more soap to work with.”

Dani had been surprised when Shadowheart first took on the laundry as her preferred chore. But when she’d asked Shadowheart about it, Shadowheart merely made a grimace. Is that so surprising? No one else in the camp can be trusted to do it properly, and I absolutely refuse to stay in a camp that reeks of goblin guts and swamp water. Underwear was off the table, though. Everyone still had to clean their own underwear. 

Dani had pointed out that she, Astarion, and Gale were all pretty decent at keeping up with their clothes, but Shadowheart wouldn’t be swayed. The only downside to Shadowheart on laundry duty is that once something was dry, she just tossed it into your tent without folding it. I said I’d clean it, not fold it. I’m not your housekeeper. 

Dani supposed she couldn’t complain. She hated doing the laundry. It had been her job for as long as she was tall enough to reach down into a washbasin, at least when she was living with her mother. She hated how raw it made her hands and how wrinkled her skin would be from all the water and soap. She hated the smell of lye and she hated having to wring out all the water and she hated how it made her back ache. So if anyone in camp wanted to do laundry, and all she had to do was fold her own clothes, she was happy to let them do it.

“It’s all clean enough for now,” Dani said. “You look like you have plenty to work with.”

“Suit yourself,” Shadowheart said, and disappeared toward the river. 

Dani leaned back with her elbow on the back of the chair, surveying the camp again thoughtfully. There was Gale, bending over the cookpot on the fire, conjuring a mage hand to hold the spoon. There was Wyll, coming back with an armload of branches and sticks, whistling a tune as he went. There was Karlach, setting down a straw target dummy and doing a brief bit of shadowboxing before patting the dummy on its canvas shoulder and walking away. There was Lae’zel, running Dani’s blade against her whetstone and testing the point with a finger, frowning at her work. There was Shadowheart, kneeling at the edge of the river, scrubbing suds into one of their shirts, her back to all of them. And there was Astarion, lounging at his tent like a Calishite pasha, seemingly absorbed in his reading.

Strange to think that just over two weeks ago, her entire world was held within the walls and streets of Baldur’s Gate, her family made up of a few roving bards and her mother. Now her world was expanded, exploding out into the wilderness along the Chionthar and beyond, and full of seemingly endless danger. But there were moments, like now, where everything just felt sort of…right. 

In just a handful of days, she’d come to trust these six companions with her life and more. They argued, teased, and poked at each other, but they also had each others’ backs in battle and even here in camp. They helped maintain each others’ weapons, and cooked, and washed the laundry, and kept watch, and checked in on one another, in their own little ways. 

Soon, once Gale announced that dinner was ready, they’d gather around the fire to eat. And there they’d bicker and joke and laugh and get on one another’s nerves, like they did every night. Dani and Wyll might tell stories while the others listened, or Dani might play a bit on her fiddle, assuming she had finished eating first and the others wouldn’t be too annoyed at her music. Or Karlach would try to tell corny jokes and Gale would laugh harder than anyone else at them, whether they were clever or not, and even Lae’zel would crack a smirk at one or two of them. Then they'd argue about whose turn it was to do the dishes before breaking off to go to their tents and get some sleep.

Such was the way they lived these days. Like a strange little family.

The thought gave her pause. Family. Two weeks ago that word encompassed a total of five people: her mother, Brann, Liara, Kellen, and Paraxxel. Now it included Gale, Wyll, Karlach, Astarion, Shadowheart, and Lae’zel.

Oh. And Scratch, of course. Couldn’t forget him.

As if on cue, Scratch bounded over and sat himself right by Dani’s leg, setting his head on her knee. She smiled down at him and gave him plenty of good scratches around the ears before glancing around the camp again.

Yeah, they were all family. For better and for worse. Even Withers, she decided. Maybe it wouldn’t last, she didn’t know. But she knew right now that she wouldn’t have it any other way.

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BONUS - Other Tav duties

I generally think that all the companions kind of fall into the same chores for most Tavs/Durges, with a bit of shifting depending on who is or isn't present. So with that in mind...

Ardynn's main chore would be hunting and gathering herbs for Gale to cook with. Honestly, their group probably eats the best out of all my Tavs because she also knows how to cook and she makes sure they always have fresh food, if she can manage it. Obviously the Shadow Cursed Lands make that task a lot harder.

Invi struggles to figure out what chore she's best at, so she just does whatever someone else doesn't want to do. That doesn't mean she's good at it. She's officially banned from doing laundry or dishes because her lightning magic doesn't mix well with water, and she may have ruined a few shirts or lost utensils down the river even when she keeps the lightning magic in check.

Freyr is the Firewood Guy. But in that "hauls a whole ass log into camp and chops it up while shirtless, occasionally rips wood apart with his bare hands" kind of way. Do not trust him to cook or clean.

#bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3ficfeb #my fic #oc #dani #meridan zavrai #tav #wyll ravengard #gale dekarios #karlach #lae'zel #astarion #shadowheart

[re1nasanimeobsession]

Sk8 the infinity (head) canons

langa is terrified of spiders so one time he saw one crawling on a table at joes restaurant so he smashed it with a plate no joe got really mad at him and made him do dishes for a week 

cherry sleeps in like a full Ebenezer scrooge outfit like with the floor length gowns and hat and joe makes fun of him for it 

no one knows italian except joe so none of them can pronounce anything on the menu correctly 

Whenever Reki does something cute langa like to mumble about it in english cause it’s his first language and he doesn’t think anyone can understand him but joe actually can and he just sits there like 👀

whenever they go shopping and there’s like canada 🇨🇦 related stuff Reki like pokes langa and is like “Langa Langa look”

Miya is terrified of the dentist 

Langas mom and Reki’s mom love gossiping with eachother and their like best friends 

Reki has a lego collection 

Cherry is a really big sweet tooth but is too embarrassed to admit it

Miya’s favorite type of anime is the magical boy/ magical girl type of stuff

Miya’s hands are always cold and he uses it to terrorize people 

Miyas cellphone is paid for my one of his skating sponsors so he does not care about data usage in fact he will purposefully rack up as much of a potential bill as he can, to watch a video or to look something up, anything

in Miyas there’s a wall in his room that just pictures of him and his friends over the years

Miya owns a pair of custom Heelys 

All of Miyas hygiene products are fresh linen scented

Miya has a latex allergy so he can only use a special brand of bandage and he always keeps them on him i case he gets hurt while skateboarding 

Miya lives off of hot topic 

#sk8 the infinity #reki kyan #langa hasegawa #reki x langa #sk8 anime #cherry #miya chinen #sk8 reki #sk8 langa