#{ This isn't Flour! ;; Crack }

[pseudowho]

Operation: Babymaker-- Grapple

When it comes to trying for a baby, Nanami Kento always works overtime. And the reader had better be ready.

💜 💛 Part 1 LINK HERE: A Trip to the Tailors

💜 💛 Part 2 LINK HERE: Benchpress

💜 💛 Part 3 LINK HERE: Ditch the Party...again

💜 💛 Part 4 LINK HERE: Wet Dreams

💜 💛 Part 5 LINK HERE: Honeytrap/Maid Café

Warnings: 18+ throughout, breeding kink, fertility/infertility discussion, playfighting gets sexy, physical restraint, assumed consent of established relationship, assumed teacher/student roles, submissive and breedable, hints of breath play, semi-public sex, PiV, fingering, cumplay 💛

You didn't expect to be thinking of your husband, while pinned beneath another man.

What was meant to be a simple capture mission for a wayward Curse user, had instead exposed a stunning weak point in your skills.

You'd expected Cursed techniques, not a fist-fight. This showed, when you'd been put in a chokehold, thrown to the ground, and felt the blind panic of the Curse user climbing on top of you, reaching down with a dirty little smirk, to put his hands around your neck. Images of Kento; smiling, his arms around your waist, reading in the sun-dappled grass, always victorious in hand to hand combat, flooded your mind, suddenly blinded by memory--

Thank goodness for the boy.

"O-oh shit-- Mrs.Nanamin--!"

You had barely a moment to register the nickname, before your deadly boy of peaches and punches dragged the Curse user off you. On your back, panting up at the ceiling, you listened to the coordinated thumps and grunts from the next room, as Yuuji beat the Curse user like a sack of flour.

Silence. Footsteps. Peach fuzz, leaning round the corner.

"...Mrs.Nanamin?"

"That's Mrs.Nanamin-sensei to you, kiddo."

Yuuji grinned, reaching down, and you let him pull you up. Your cheeks were flushed, angry with mortification, prickling beneath the crippling weight of being so weak. Yuuji looked awkward, rubbing the back of his head. You huffed to the next room, trying to drag the unconscious Curse user like a bag of potatoes.

You huffed again, angrier this time as you shouted to nobody in particular, the stress of memory coming out sideways.

"God, why am I so FUCKING USELESS--"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

After the latest batch of negative pregnancy tests, your morale was low.

"Six months, Kento!" You cried, each month longer than the last as you flurried round the kitchen with tears in your eyes. Kento stood in silence, holding court for your rage and bitter tears, his arms folded across his chest.

You slammed the bin too sharply, swung cupboards open with a crack, flicked the kettle on like it was personal. Kento waited for your disappointment to abate, before he spoke, low and slow.

"...it's normal, my love. I know you're disappointed. But we'll get there. Six months isn't that long. Sometimes...these things just take time." You bristled, turning on him, your lip crumpling up.

"Are you not disappointed?" Kento looked at you over glasses that weren't there, reading, unfighting in a way that left you exposed. He walked to you, his words blanketing.

"Not with you. I haven't lost anything. I just have a little longer to look forwards to something new." Kento's arms slipped round your waist, a nuzzle against your ear, taking your vulnerability and cradling it in his palms. "Is that so bad?"

You deflated, the fight loved out of you. You looked at the pregnancy test on the counter, and its stark single pink line. You whispered, in part to Kento, and in part to yourself as he lifted you onto the counter, settling between your legs like it was home.

"...no. I suppose it's not so bad."

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When Nanami Kento had offered to teach hand-to-hand combat at Jujutsu High, they'd leapt at the chance. Principal Yaga bore down over Kento while Kento looked round in alarm, willingly signing the contract he had asked to sign.

These simulated fights, so much safer than the real fights, kept Kento closer to you in a way you needed, viscerally. He'd miraculously walked out of Shibuya with nothing more than cuts and bruises, but it did little to ease your terror of having almost lost him.

You searched the school, following the blue-fire feel of him in the air; you followed the trail, as if grasped by a yellow spotted tie, silkwrapped around the palm of your hand, pulling you to him. You found him, panting with sweatsheen arms, beginning to tidy equipment in the empty gymnasium.

Kento looked up as you approached; in a white vest, and grey joggers, barefoot, his hands were wrapped with white tape, dusty with chalk. With his sweatslick honey hair swept back, his crooked smile rerouted a droplet of sweat on the way down his jaw.

"Lover." Kento greeted, low and husky, his voice scratchy from the heat of simulated battle. You leaned against a stack of gym mats, smiling, in your own gymwear.

"Been beating up children again? Who was it this time?" Kento chuckled, gravelly, lifting a medicine ball to the side with shocking ease. Your eyes traced his bare arms, and the undulating shift of corded muscles there, thick and powerful.

"Fushiguro. He asked for it." You laughed, as Kento dusted his hands together, chalkdust puffing into the air. Kento smiled again, still crooked, huffing a laugh. "No, he really did."

"I should think he regrets that."

"He's learned some important lessons."

"Like, the way to Shoko's office?"

"Yes. Amongst others, I hope."

Silence sat between you both, as Kento leaned back against the gym mats beside you. He held court again, this time for your unasked questions.

"...Kento. I...need some help. I'm, uh...lacking."

He was silent, still. You looked sideways, to find his eyes roaming the length of your body, caressing. Kento still thrummed with the testosterone and adrenaline of the fight; you could taste it, rendered primal by nature.

"...are you? I wouldn't agree." He hummed, keen eyes now zeroing in on his favourite parts of you, undressing you. You tried not to shudder at the unexpected heat pooling between your legs. When you spoke again, your tongue felt thick, rendered stupid by Kento's biological warfare.

"I'm...dreadful at fighting. Hand-to-hand combat. I'm too reliant on my Cursed technique." The respect with which Kento listened did nothing to mask the disrespect in his eyes. His grey joggers left nothing to the imagination.

"And...you want to learn, I assume." God, that voice, so much rustier than usual, sent daggers straight through your--

"Yeah. Yep. Yes. You assume right. I need...need you, uh...to teach me." You chirped, shaking off that second heartbeat, turning to face him.

You continued turning, magnetised as Kento held your gaze. He walked backwards onto the gym-mats, still marked by chalk-dust art of the animated human form. You swallowed, and Kento's eyes swam with something altogether more dangerous than desire alone. He widened his stance, his hands raised in preparation.

"Well...why don't you show me what you've got so far? As a baseline." You blushed, suddenly awkward in your body as you walked over to the mat, facing him. Kento had schooled his facial expression to his usual flat impassive gaze, but noticeably more shark-like.

"Like...just...come at you?"

"Mhm. Hit me."

You raised your hands, awkwardly balling them into fists, taking a step closer. You flushed at the microflexes of preparation that rippled over Kento's body, suddenly burning alive as you cocked your arm back, and--

"Thumbs out."

"Uh...sorry?"

Kento looked over absent glasses again. "Thumbs out. If you hit someone with your fists in your grip, you'll break your thumbs."

"Ah...right, okay." Being taught by Kento made you run hot, strangely submissive in the assumed teacher-student role. The heat only worsened with the way he was looking at you, fuck, I'd be done for if he really were my teacher--

You jabbed, darting forwards, a fist straight towards Kento's face. In a split second, he dipped sideways, stepping into a grab, and looped your arm behind you as you gasped, his other arm in an arresting grip around your neck, his body flush to yours from behind. You felt his breath, hot against your neck, and you shivered from hairline to toes.

"Plan your second move." Kento murmured, his lips against your ear, grazing you...tasting you. "You left yourself...wide open."

"Wide...wide open." You gasped, your vision swimming with the power of Kento's forceful restraint, biology overtaking sense and feminism as your clit throbbed. "O-okay."

Kento hummed against your ear, releasing you with what you felt was the briefest reluctance. He barked at you, his face sterner now-- "Again." --his eyes burning into you as you prepared yourself.

You punched again, this time towards his belly with a low-blow. Kento grunted, and you squeaked as he took the hit without flinching, your hand hitting concrete surely that is a brick fucking wall not a man at all shit--

You felt your legs swept from under you, and landed flat on your back with a bam, crying out and wincing, before opening your eyes. Kento prowled around above you, panting with something other than exertion.

In truth, if you hadn't shown up, he'd have been fucking his fist in the showers. While fighting in itself did not thrill Kento, the resulting burst of testosterone in the adrenaline comedown left his cock rigid and pulsing in a way that pissed him off.

He had not been able to shower; had not been able to lean on his forearm, cursing under the hot water as he furiously stroked himself in his hand, and imagined it was your cunt instead, still yet to quicken his seed within your belly, leaving him feeling somewhat lacking in a way he would never let you know but god he wanted you round and full and blooming so he could fill you again and prove you were his and--

"You can do better than that." Kento growled, something twitching in his jaw. Your chest heaved, looking up at him with glistening doe-eyes that went straight to his cock. He turned as he paced, swallowing hard, running a hand through his hair. "Get up. Lie there on your back, and someone will pin you down."

You stood on shaking legs, wondering how Kento seemed somehow bigger than usual. He stood opposite you again, electrified and taut. The same current passed through you again, and again, and again. You wondered vaguely, how to verbalise how you really wanted him to fight you and to make sure you didn't win so he could take his spoils from your body just as he pleased with you pinned and wet beneath him--

You swung your leg, turning sideways as you kicked...straight into his awaiting grasp. Kento grunted, your ankle under his arm, and drew you in, reeling you in by your leg as you hopped, crying out.

He couldn't disguise the wolfish smirk on his face by this point, and you yelled, laughing, until he reached your thigh, dropping you to the floor and pressing himself between your legs with a satisfied grunt.

"Left yourself open aga--oof--" You took Kento by surprise, rolling him over with your hips, straddling him on the floor. Kento coughed, the briefest how dare you on his lips as he pinched your inner thighs until you gasped, flipping himself on top again.

"--c'mere-- stop squirming-- shit, when I get you--"

"--come on Mr.Nanami, thought you-- fuck-- thought you were-- meant to be good at this--"

Any serious attempt at an education had turned into playful grappling, all hushed giggles and gasps, and Kento's heavy breaths against your skin as he tried to pin you down, too squirmy for him, every inch of you brushing against his rigid cock in a way that drove him mad, growing brittle, more dominant by the second.

Kento groaned against your neck, panting, bear-hugging you.

"--got...haaah...got you-- now-- fuck, stop fighting me--"

You tumbled around each other, your hits growing more powerful as his hands shook with restraint. You tried to crawl away as he dragged you back by your ankles with a growl, pressing into you from behind, and you bucked, throwing him off. Kento cursed, spitting feathers as you kicked out madly, grasping your ankles and pulling them apart so he could pin you down with his hips.

You flipped yourself over with a squeak, trying to claw yourself away, and Kento took his opportunity. He crushed you to the floor from behind, caging you, one thick arm looped around your neck as his whole body heaved with effort.

You stilled, just a little mouse in his jaws, as you felt the twitching heavy length of him rutting lazily into your arse. You felt the blood drain from your head, all the way down to your pussy, leaving you plush and throbbing and ready. You clawed at his forearm, half-hearted, hearing him rumble against your neck.

"--got you...I've got you...fuck..."

"K-Kento...please-- please--"

You squeaked to feel Kento's sharp canines sink into the back of your neck, your squirming only drawing out his groan into something needy and desperate. You felt his other hand trail downwards, cupping the whole length of your pussy from behind, trying to feel the shape of you through your thin gym clothes. You shivered, gulping against his arm.

"Please what?" Kento groaned, his hand reluctantly leaving your pussy to start to inch your gym leggings down, pawing and kneading at the plush of your hips on the way. You shivered, submitting with a bite of the lip, choking out around his arm.

"Please...fill me up...Kento."

Kento groaned, low and long. You felt him nuzzle against the shell of your ear, dexterous hands now yanking your gym leggings down, flinging them aside with conviction.

"Again. Say it again."

"P-please fuck a baby into me, Kento--"

Kento clapped a hand over your mouth, cursing as your hot little breaths leaked out through his fingers.

"You...you only think you know how much time I spend obsessing over it." Kento whispered, husky with desperation. You shivered to feel thick, calloused fingertips begin to tease between your folds, pinching and rolling the flesh around your clit until you whimpered under his hand. "Every day, getting up for work, when all I want is your hips lifted on pillows, so I can fuck myself empty into you again and again."

You felt Kento's fingers increase in pace, rolling, massaging rolling your pert little nub between his fingers, pleasuring you completely, until the itch of bliss started to creep through your hips and belly.

"F-fuck, Kento...please just...just..." You squirmed, wanting to be stretched, and worn by him, placing your pleasure behind duty. Kento bit deeper into the back of your neck, pinning you harder in chastisement.

"Just...just...what? Just fuck you?" Kento laughed, a dry little scoff behind your ear. He pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, his fingers working with expert knowledge of your twitches and jerks, guiding you by the hand towards your orgasm. "No...we won't be like that. We won't...put aside enjoyment just for the sake of a positive test. No...you'll cum when I say you'll cum."

You mewled, feeling his hand clap over your mouth again to muffle it, shushing you gently, a cautious eye glancing towards the door through his shuddering breaths. Kento's grey joggers did little to disguise the heavy weight of his cock, swollen and needy, with beads of pre-cum gradually darkening the fabric around the tip.

"Be as loud as you like at home...but here? You already interrupted me coming in my hand in the shower--" Kento continued through your squeak of alarm, "--but I won't be interrupted again. Need-- need to cum inside you. Sorry...shit, feel so wet-- good girl--"

Your vision went hazy, your breaths fracturing. Your clamping thighs and arching did little to slow the pace of Kento's fingers, dragging you over the edge like you were on rails. Feeling him pinch and roll your wet fleshy clit, your pussy clenched around nothing as you came with a whimper and a cry, trying desperately to buck anything inside you.

Before you'd even finished your peak, you heard Kento cursing and growling, removing and then replacing his hand for just long enough to press his weeping tip to your entrance, and rub you through the rest of your pleasure.

You squealed aloud beneath the insistent pressure of Kento's hand, as his cock fucked in ragged thrusts through slick cheeks and puffy folds, before burying to the hilt with desperate urgency. Being filled partway through your peak, to the soundtrack of Kento's growling curses, turned your ecstasy lightheaded, your ears ringing as you felt him fuck against your soft spot, barely pulling out.

"...mmmfff...K'n...oooo..."

"Sorry." He gasped, not sorry at all as lights fizzed in his eyes. "Missed that. Bit busy...fuck--so tight--make you tighter--"

Kento kicked the ankles of your outstretched legs to cross, and groaned, deep and guttural, to feel you squeeze his cock even tighter. He bit into your shoulder, crushing you harder against the gym mat with his brisk, deep thrusts.

Kento didn't let you come down, his fingers continuing to rub from side to side over your clit, swiping over the sensitive nub and the deeper wings beside it with such speed, the pleasure burned as one, consuming you in holy fire. You clasped at the hand and arm over your mouth, twitching and convulsing with such savage pleasure, that Kento rendered you base, animalistic.

"--g-good girl...good girl-- shit, pussy sucks harder than y-your mouth...take it. Sh...shit-- take it--"

Your husband had been replaced, spitting dirty talk like venom, his handsome face twisted into something monstrous, needier than you'd ever seen him. Kento slammed into you as though he were a man who needed to prove something to himself-- to you.

You couldn't work out where one orgasm ended and another began, but Kento could. As you moaned behind his hand, your throat sore with whimpers, Kento gasped, shuddering as his thrusts lost coordination, yanked against the hook behind his navel.

"--that'sit...unngghhhhn f-fuck...I'm...I'm..."

Kento rumbled into broken groans, complete and fracturing above you, feeling his orgasm roll through him in thick, sticky waves. He only hoped, vaguely, that it was deep enough, or good enough, or simply enough, his lips pressed in reverence to your sweaty temple as he filled you in moaning pulses.

You panted together through your comedown, Kento's hold on you unchanging, but somehow transforming into an embrace over an arrest. You stroked his forearm, and jolted to feel his fingertips probing around your entrance, fingering the cuff of your flesh around the base of his cock, still buried inside you.

"--au-augh K-Kento...what--"

"Shhh...don't move."

As you stilled, trying to slow your heaving breaths, you heard Kento shudder and groan as his softening cock slipped out of you. His fingers waited at your entrance...waiting for something--

As soon as the thick ooze of his cum reached his fingertips, Kento caught it, fucking it back inside you as you squealed, mewling and clenching, hypersensitive. Kento hyperfocused on the squelch of your cunt like a man possessed, pressing his seed deeper and deeper.

"...just...allow me to..." He breathed heavily against your neck, pinning you down harder as you bucked and squirmed, "...make sure...that my cum is in exactly the right place--"

You stilled with a guttural groan when Kento's fingertips curled forwards, finding the dimpled opening of your cervix and urging his release towards it. Kento laughed, delirious, breathless in your ear.

"...shit...heaven's gate, hmm? Let's feel her suck it all up..." Kento snaked his other hand beneath you, releasing your mouth to primal gasps, and he had the audacity to tut at you when you whined, as he began working on your clit again, treading softly, gently. His first hand still plugged inside you, his wedding ring slippery with your cream, he began to rub your clit to orgasm again, eager to feel you clench and gulp his seed deeper.

"...got to--got to get tougher with this...shit-- can't stand...seeing you upset, I...get this in your belly if--if it's the last thing I do...you can take it, can't you? Mmm...proud of you-- good girl--"

You could do little but dig crescents into the gym mat with your fingertips, prone as Kento worked you with methodical madness, with both of his hands. Effortlessly, he pushed you past juddering hyperstimulation towards another orgasm, ruinous in its scope, making your belly ache with syrupy-sweet contractions.

Kento marvelled, his jaw going slack and eyes fluttering closed as he felt the twitches of your cervix against his fingertips, and the way your pussy sucked his seed upwards, his fingers ensuring it had nowhere else to go. He let you whimper and convulse this way, shuddering to think of his cum painting your womb.

"--give you a baby-- give you what you want...I...no more disappointment, I swear, I-- fuck, you goddess, I-- love you so much, lover, good girl..."

You flopped, dopey on the comedown, shivering as Kento reluctantly slid his fingers out of you, satisfied to see no more of his cum seeping out. He kissed you, overcome with longing, and peppering it over your eyes, your cheeks, your lips.

"I adore you." Kento intoned, and you believed every ounce of the weight of his love. You swallowed thickly, turning yourself to cup his cheek, faux-stern as his eyes glimmered down at you.

"You...were supposed to be...teaching me how to fight." Kento hummed, chuckling, enjoying the way your jaw dropped as he licked his fingers clean.

"Yes, well...another time, perhaps. For now...I'm sure the showers are free, Mrs.Nanami."

wonderful dividers by @thecutestgrotto

[sanjifucker42069]

Looks Like Lingerie to Me - Sanji x Reader

Word count: 854

We gender-neutral and short af today boys. This is crack treated semi-seriously lmao, and an actual drabble. I love idiot!readers, there isn't enough rep for us dumbasses. This is written with OPLA!Sanji in mind bc I dig the super effective suave vibe

Suggestive, there's swearing, the word cock is used once. Brief description. (Ha! Brief!)

Let's be real...Sanji might wears shirt stays....and that's hot as fuck

It was midday when you found yourself outside the men's quarters. You had been lounging around on the upper deck when Usopp had asked you to grab a wrench he'd left in his room. Fair enough, you weren't doing anything, wouldn't hurt to help. And so you padded off, making your way to the bedroom. It was the middle of the day, no one should be in there. You'd passed Zoro napping against some bags, you could still hear Luffy. Sanji definitely had to be in his domain of the kitchen. Still, you offered a quick courteous knock as you flung open the door to the men's quarters, wandering into the space with no preamble.

"Sorry boys, I gotta grab Usopp's- Holy shit!"

Sanji's head shot up to stare at you, cheeks lightly pink. He was stooped over, pants pooling at his knees. Sure, his thick thighs were enticing, and his position stuck that gorgeous ass out at a delicious angle, but your eyes were fixated on the crossing fabric that adorned his upper legs. Was that…a garter belt? You felt lightheaded at the view before you. He looked delectable. The cook quirked an eyebrow at your staring.

"See something you like, love?" He drawled, sending you a cocky grin. Sanji felt his ego swell when you tripped over your words. Had you actually paid attention, you'd notice how his usual clothes were covered in flour, but you weren't exactly the most perceptive.

"I…thighs." You spoke dumbly, causing you to mentally smack yourself. "I mean, sorry. I didn't think anyone would be in here at this time." 

With great hardship, you tore your eyes away from the garment. It looked like a garter belt, had to be! You always knew Sanji liked fashion, and that he could be a pervert, but you didn't expect him to be unembarrassed at being caught wearing lingerie. As if they were possessed, your eyes trailed their way back to his thighs. The elastic was biting into his thigh meat, bulk deliciously spilling over the edges. Saliva flooded your mouth. What you wouldn't give to touch them. To bite them. Fuck what if you-

Wait. 

Sanji had said something.

"Wha?" 

Nice going idiot.

Sanji had abandoned his grip on the trousers, gracefully dropping them and stepping out of the puddle of fabric. Your breath hitched as he turned to you.

Abort mission! 

Fuck you didn't even look at his underwear. Shit, fuck, that…that was clearly the outline of his cock, a pair of grey boxer briefs doing a horrible job at hiding his silhouette. You were thankful that the length of his dress shirt covered the majority, or you'd be due a visit to chopper from fainting.

"I said can I help you, love?"

An awkward cackle escaped your throat and you blushed. Oh, he could help you alright. Instead, you opened your dumb mouth again.

"Is that…why are you wearing a garter belt?"

Sanji froze. An uncomfortable silence filled the room.

Oh shit! Oh fuck!

You opened your mouth to apologise when that bell-like laugh permeated the awkwardness. 

"What?" He laughed incredulously. "They are shirt stays."

Sanji felt his heart squeeze when you cocked your head confused. You really had no idea how cute you were, did you? Trying to be polite and stop laughing, he coughed into his fist.

"They keep my shirt tucked in sweet thing. Can't be looking unprofessional around you cuties." Sanji winked, smirking with satisfaction as your face grew redder. He expected an 'oh' or a 'sorry'. He certainly didn't expect a;

"I'd call having no pants but lingerie on unprofessional."

"You were the one who bust in here!" He argued. "And it's not lingerie!"

"Ah…sorry about that. I meant to grab a wrench Usopp left in here. I…uh…I should go."

"Mmhmm." 

You wandered stiffly to where Usopp slept, finding the tool with ease, and trying desperately to not look at the cook. Sanji watched you, amusement clear on his face at your robotic movements. Wasting no time, you rushed back to the door. 

"Oh, uh, Sanji?" The man hummed in response. "I, uh, I'm sorry for thinking you were wearing lingerie. Not! Not that there's anything wrong if you were, you'd look hot in it. I mean! I….uh…no, you'd definitely look hot in it. What was I saying?"

Silence. Sanji was staring at you with wide eyes, face now red from your comments. You clicked your fingers.

"Right, right! You should probably put some clothes on. Don't want you catching a cold ha ha." You forced out a robotic laugh. "Sorry again."

You slammed the door shut, leaving a confused and slightly aroused man in your wake. Sanji sighed, making his way back to his sleeping area to change into clean clothes. The door creaked back open. Sanji groaned quietly. Who now?

"You have to admit, they are kinda slutty though, right? Sorry! Bye again!"

You were gone before Sanji could even process your words properly. He groaned audibly this time, raking his hands down his face. He needed a fucking smoke. You were going to be the death of him.

[thechekhov]

Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts: CH45

Slumber party!

Fair, but consider: She deserves a little murder. As a treat.

Kabru be like "IS THAT MY BACKSTORY???"

That sure is....a ship. With no one on it.

Ah, shit the Americans are here.

Two things: Toshiro being tended to like a pretty pretty princess is hilarious.

And also, the fact that they think the elves can kill Falin......... hmmm.... Pressing X to doubt.

............... oh. Laios. 😂

But also like. How was he MEANT to keep it silent? Put a little something in it? I thought since it was a magic bell you could code it to only ring when it's shaken with INTENT?

Fancy ass house.

Also, Namari...........are you hitting that yet? Both of that?

Oh, it's backstory time.

Okay one: that's fucking tragic, it sounds like the Elves are just forcing the dungeons closed with no regard for how the ecosystem compensates and what people suffer by being in close proximity......

And another thing: Kabru. Kabru, isn't that what YOU'RE after? Having all the power?

Why is this so much like that one meme where the girls at the party are looking at you.

It's the same picture.

Kabru that's. That's maybe not the way to go about it. you're going to give them MORE reasons to go in.

Nevermind the governor not being into this 'good boy, now sign' talk, Toshiro's kinda right. Ya fucked up Kabru.

No matter how far Laios runs, he cannot escape other people trying to tell him how to live his life. Poor guy. But at the same time...

Is this real? Or a red herring?

Laios' father and mother seemed to be living relatively pious lives. They clearly had a good house, but it didn't seem like they were extremely rich. Then again, perhaps he's just a cousin of royalty? Is that why his parents wanted him to have children?

They want to.... halt the growth of the dungeon? Is this another part of the natural ecosystem of things? Dungeons growing seems to point even more towards the idea that it's a gigantic, fleshpit-like creature instead of simply a construct.

Then again, constructs CAN be creatures. Like the golems.

Elves not understanding how old humans are continues to be hilarious because like.

As humans, we HAVE this same concept of variant aging. Like. Dogs. We understand that dogs live less than us, and mature a lot slower. But this is.... COMMON KNOWLEDGE. Most people do not make it into adulthood without understanding that dogs mature within 1-2 years of their birth.

The fact that elves, a species with FAR more time on their hands, who have lived alongside other races for AGES....... have STILL not got the general concept of aging down....means their education is atrocious. Or they're all not paying attention.

.......this. THIS is the most fascinating concept in this chapter.

The fallen.... turned into MONSTERS.

We know that dying inside the dungeon doesn't mean permanent death. But dying above-ground does.

We know that dying in the dungeon doesn't mean your body turns into a monster (aside from ghosts and ghouls?) ..... but dying aboveground.... DOES......?

WHAT'S THE TRUTH.

👁👁

Hm.

If Kabru and Laios fused, they could almost make one functioning human being.

Senshi just beginning to speak in the middle of his own internal monologue is so real.

...... what's going on there with the expression, buddy?

Bread.......are they STILL carrying around flour with them?! How are they getting bread?!

Also, it's awesome that the eggs are canonically hard to crack, because it makes sense that they don't break during their many fighting events.

Izutsumi really said ◉_◉

Don't tell me Laios, who is sensitive to ghosts has ALSO been seeing things?

Not gonna lie, that's highkey terrifying.

Props to that ghost that's been following Laios around, not ever giving up hope that it can bother him into acknowledging it.

And also - hey, it already saved them once! that means it's probably not evil!

That, or it's the king of the bloody dungeon. Wouldn't that be something!

[etheries1015]

Reader who isn't very good at baking / cooking x Lilia...who is even worse at it, but together they make half a brain cell. At least.

"Lilia, do you think honey might be a good substitute for sugar...? We ran out."

"Well, its sweet, is it not? I say throw it in! What's the difference?"

Enablers of horrible decisions, really. Although you did manage to catch Lilia throwing in un-cracked eggs, much to your dismay. You un-folded them from the flour (not without accidently cracking and dropping some shells you weren't able to fish out. Oh well, nobody will notice, right?)

After hours of baking and being covered head to toe in ingredients, the two of you just sit there staring at the hundreds of lopsided and lumpy cupcakes that look more akin to muffins.

.....

"...should we add frosting..?" Lilia asked.

".....It may help with the look of it, so...why not?"

And of course it was homemade frosting.

Bonus is you getting some frosting on your cheek and Lilia does the honors of licking it up for you <3

Chaotic, but Silver insists it is indeed a large improvement from what he has seen his father create in the past.

[tismbisim]

Flour...

Flour...

Where Dark Cacao Cookie once stood now lays a pile of fine flour.

At that moment a wave of emotions hit y/n cookie like a stampede of cake hounds.

Grief, Despair, Misery, Denial, Anguish.

These emotions now all tied to Y/n cookie’s being.

A cookie you held close to your heart... gone... reduced to flour.

“DARK CACAO COOKIE!!! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

You were sure that he would have won the fight.

You were sure that with his awakening, he would have won.

This had to be a nightmare, it had to be.

This couldn't be real... right?

“Do not despair, dear y/n cookie, he saw the path for true enlightenment and accepted his fate.”

That voice... it was HER voice.

The one who took your precious king and his warriors.

Mystic Flour Cookie

“Mystic flour cookie... I beg you... PLEASE...Bring him back...please...” You said grief drowning your word.

“I'm afraid I cannot allow that.” said Mystic flour cookie, her gaze now cast upon you.

PLEASE MYSTIC FLOUR COOKIE, I’ll DO ANYTHING!!!

You said, tears now running down your face.

Mystic flour cookie’s face softened up by a tiny bit seeing your grieving state.

She can't bring back that cookie, otherwise her dream of a perfect world with you would be ruined.

“I'm sorry dear Y/N cookie, But the world I dreamed of doesn't need him”

Mystic Flour Cookie said, her tone unphased by your grief.

The world doesn't need him?

THE WORLD DOESN’T NEED HIM?

“I'M HIS WORLD! AND HE IS MINE!”

You yelled at Mystic flour cookie

Mystic Flour Cookie was... shocked, to say the least.

Why would the successor of her resolution, be your world?

Regardless she didn't care, she would have to...

*CRACCKK*

A sharp cracking sound was heard in the room.

It was your Soul Jam.

Seeing Dark Cacao Cookie turn to flour had an impact on your Soul Jam.

Your Soul Jam had started to change by the immense grief you were feeling.

It didn't shatter mind you, but your once bright and colorful soul jam now starting to turn dark.

A color that didn't suit the bright and wonderful cookie like you.

Little by little your light started to diminish.

Your Soul Jam once holding the light of compassion, now holds the light of inertia.

Mystic Flour cookie was surprised for the first time in centuries.

Her apathetic demeanor seemingly vanished upon seeing this.

“What is the meaning of this?” Mystic flour cookie asked, now starting panic.

Nothing.

You said nothing.

All you did was sob profusely on the pile of flour that was once your king.

Mystic Flour cookie’s mind started to race.

What can she do?

She can’t have you like this!

Her perfect world can’t exist if her beloved is like this.

She needed her bright light to show the world the meaning of apathy.

Suddenly, a tear rolled off her face.

What?

A Tear?

Was she crying?

Why was she crying?

She thought she had lost all emotion after her enlightenment.

Was it you?

Is this some sort of "strange power" that emanated from your soul jam?

She looked at you to see if she could feel any power radiating from you.

Nothing.

She didn't feel any magic coming out of you.

It was as if her very core shook.

She was crying.

Her heart, thought to be cold and distant, was wrenching.

This isn't what she wanted.

She didn't want to see you like this, and yet she can’t help but feel... guilt.

Something she didn't feel for the countless cookies she had turned into flour.

She heard these cries countless times from other cookies.

None of them held any meaning for her.

This isn't any different from those cookies, and yet... she was crying.

She knows she can fix this, yet she doesn't want you to hate her.

If she had known that you cherished that cookie this much, she would have taken a different approach.

She needed to fix this.

“...Y/N cookie, I have an offer for you” she said wiping the tears off her face.

You were too filled with grief to answer.

“I have a way to fix this” she said

You stopped, ‘a way to fix this’?

A way to bring back Dark Cacao Cookie perhaps?

You wiped the tears staining your face.

“...what?” you say with a shred of hope

“I will bring back these cookies and restore your Soul Jam back to when you first arrived in Beast-Yeast" she said her eyes looking at your tainted soul jam.

“Restore... my soul jam?” you questioned only now realizing that your soul jam looked different.

“Yes, in exchange I want you to take me with you” she said hoping that you'll say yes.

“Take you... with me? Why?” You asked

“I wish to repent for my actions against you” she said

“And though it surprises me to say... my heart can't stand seeing you like this” she added

You take a minute to fully comprehend what she said.

On one hand you resent Mystic Flour cookie for turning your king into Flour.

On the other...

“Alright, ...but don't expect me to be all ‘buddy-buddy’ with you” you said, your words filled with contempt.

“Of course, my only wish is that you may forgive me when you're ready” she said giving you a small smile.

Suddenly the world around you started to fade, turning to flour.

.

.

.

.

.

“Ugh... what happened” Dark Cacao Cookie groaned

Realizing he was lying on the floor he sat up before rubbing his head.

“Last thing I remember was...” he said before realizing that you were gone.

“Y/N Cookie!” he called out

“Y/N Cookie!” he repeated, growing nervous

“Y/N- he said before being tackled into the ground

“Dark Cacao Cookie!” you said overjoyed to see your king, hugging him tightly.

“Y/N Cookie, are you alright? You’re crying” he said wondering why earthbread you’re crying.

“I'm better than alright, I’m just so happy to see you again.” You said relieved that he hasn't changed, well personality wise.

Soon enough the rest of the Dark Cacao Warriors woke up.

All the warriors were happy to see their king safe

Dark Cacao Cookie rubbed the back of head glad to see you're safe.

But then a thought entered Dark Cacao Cookie’s head

“What happened? Did we win in our fight with that Beast?” he said, wondering about the outcome of the battle.

“Oh, She’s-” you said before being interrupted.

“Right here” Mystic Flour Cookie said, with a hint of hesitation.

Dark Cacao Cookie’s face turned pale upon seeing the Beast, before that shock turned to rage.

“YOU-” he said before you quickly intervened.

“Whoa Whoa Whoa, Dark Cacao Cookie I know what this looks like, but let me explain!” you said trying to calm down your king.

Dark Cacao Cookie looked at you confused.

.

. 15 minutes of explanation and Dark Cacao Cookie wrangling later.

.

“Hmm, I see.” Dark Cacao Cookie said, understanding what you said.

“Let me get this straight” he said, turning to Mystic Flour Cookie.

“In exchange for your surrender, you wish to repent?” he said, glaring daggers at her.

“That is correct; after achieving my goal, I realized that without Y/N support, even my dream was futile.” she said ignoring Dark Cacao Cookie’s stare.

“Hmm” he scoffed.

“I know you don't like this my liege, but if she is at our side, it would make the war against Dark Enchantress Cookie easier” you said.

He hated the idea of having a Beast roam free, but knowing that she was willing to change her ways...

“Fine...” he reluctantly agreed.

“Thank you” you said, before quickly giving him a peck on his cheek.

[shuahaes]

baking w/ the hip-hop unit!

svt hhu x reader; established relationship; all fluff, sfw

HHU | VCU | PFU

warning: only food mentions, otherwise its all just fluff + unhinged wonwoo in his part !! not proofread btw !!

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL (S.COUPS)

hes so excited to bake a cake w his baby 🥺

but this man gets so pouty so easily

he'd prob drop an egg and get pouty or accidentally spill flour on the counter

but he'd try his best to be helpful yk

trying to follow the recipe as best he can

and if u even SIGH out of slight annoyance while trying to mix the batter

he WILL be taking the beater from u and doing it for u

would also do his best to give u a massage afterwards

he says he'll take them out of the oven for u bc he doesnt want u to feel the heat from it so he does it (while wearing mitts ofc)

and then he gets pouty bc its too hot

even tho he wanted to do it 💀

definitely pouty if the cake was deformed

would def help u clean up the mess

CUDDLES AFTER 🥺

JEON WONWOO

i am a firm believer of unhinged wonwoo with his s/o

like yes he'd follow the recipe

but what if he's in a silly goofy mood

would probably say he's an expert baker because he played cooking mama every day for two weeks 💀

prob says "f**k the recipe, i'll bake like cooking mama"

but still follows the recipe bc of you

maybe heart shaped cookies (like that one picture)*

gives u a kiss after bc the cookies were so good

KIM MINGYU

this man is a klutz but also an amazing chef??

most definitely the best baker in hhu

but not without almost breaking your stand mixer

or getting batter all over the counter and some splattering on the walls 😔

cracked an egg but when he went to put the yolk in another bowl for the recipe, it exploded

dw though, your desserts turned out fine

he was pouty abt the stand mixer almost breaking (BUT ITS FINE)

but thats nothing cuddles cant solve, isn't it?

CHWE HANSOL (VERNON)

its vernon.

there is a very low chance that the dessert will end up edible

why?

because he will most definitely forget to read the recipe measurements and it might end up so sweet that it'll give you a cavity within the first bite

or it could end up as him putting too much salt instead of sugar

reason being, the poor boy couldnt tell the difference bc he missed the jars labels 😭

it may not end up edible

but its the thought that counts, right?

at least he helped his beautiful s/o 🤩

A/N - FINALY DID THE HHU VER!! omg posting this in the daytime instead of the dead of night? im so proud of myself 🤭 a huge thank u to @kwantaro mahi <3 for helping me come with a few of the hcs, so ty mahi !!

*this photo of wonwoo that i was talking about

[jolenes-doppelganger]

honestly any Rebecca Ferguson character x fem!reader preferably Lady Jessica but whatever works for you hurt/comfort maybe a lil smut idk I just read the Phantom whispers (?) fic and it was soooo good

[Hi, anon! Welcome to Iola's first crack fic! :D (No smut, I'm not feeling it. But giggles!]

Rearing the Muad'Dib

Reverend Mother Jessica x Fem! Fremen Reader

Summary: What happens when a stubborn teenage boy finds a pack of tiny mice while Jessica requires assistance? Cock Mice blocking.

Warnings: Slight NSFW undertones, allusions to sex, almost sex multiple times, and Reader + Jessica being walked in on right before doing the deed. (I'm not counting this as NSFW because it isn't QUITE smut. Equivalent of seeing an almost sex scene in a film). Implied animal abandonment.

A/N: This fic gave me LIFE to write! Usually I'm not a fan of open requests, but this fell within the time frame of a fun idea I had. Thus, crack fic. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.8k

The Muad’Dib were sacred to the Fremen. They represented a vital part of their ecosystem, the structure of the mouse’s ears had taught them how to catch water from the air. They were also wise in the ways of the desert, so much so that the Fremen often saw themselves in them. Just as they had mystified the young Paul, they mystified the Fremen. Some of them. To the Fremen with food to eat, they were a symbol of hope. To the Fremen opening up flour bags riddled with turds and urine, they were a curse.

Paul had taken a strange name, in your opinion. Sure, the desert mouse was arguably fitting for a boy scrawny and thin compared to the Fremen boys his age, but it felt too on the nose. You supposed it was a quirk of his character, his desire to label himself as anything but the savior. The honesty, a trait he must have gotten from his father. Though you never met the man, you knew it didn’t come from the woman with eyes too angular to be high born, too familiar to be considered foreign. You tolerated the both of them, mostly Paul. That was until he came back into the Fremen sietch with a load of baby mice. They were tiny, the size of your thumb, and the boy dumped them on you.

“They need help.” Paul insisted, the teenager crossing his arms stubbornly.

You looked up at the man child with exhausted disbelief, then back at the squirming pouch of hairless mice.

“Paul, the desert is in control of the life cycles of the mice. We as Fremen do not intervene.” you sighed, explaining with more condescension than necessary.

“I disrupted the nest walking, it’s my fault.” he ardently insisted, brow furrowed.

You took a deep, long breath in through your nose. This boy was annoying, stubborn, and yet he was gaining power by the second in the Fremen camp. His mother was helping with that.

“I don’t have time to nurse baby mice, Paul. Return them to the desert where you found them.” 

“I’ve been carrying them for seven days.”

“And feeding them with what, exactly?”

“... Rice water.”

The gall of this boy. To waste water? Rice water? On mice? Not even cute ones, little squirming sacks of flesh, not enough to make a handful.

“I don’t have time, take them back.”

“But Stilgar said-”

“Unless I hear it from Stilgar himself, I am not raising mice babies.” you put your foot down.

Paul stayed quiet, eyes flickering upward. The wheezing nature of Stilgar’s breathing, what you assumed to be a deviated septum, made it clear that the man had been lurking for long enough to hear you deny the prophesied savior of Arrakis. He was like a serpent, this man. Slithering between rocks and striking at the moment of weakness. And that meant you now had to change your tune before the man drove a stick through your ass.

“… If they die under my care, I will not be held liable, I have other responsibilities to attend to.”

“Like what?” Stilgar’s southern Fremen accent cut in.

“Like attending to the Reverend Mothers.” you spoke, using the plural for Jessica and her strange child.

Stilgar let out an amused snort. 

“Take the mice babies and go attend to the woman.”

You did as the sietch leader told you, not bothering to do more than nod. Unbeknownst to you, the conversation continued.

“Muad’Dib.” Stilgar sighed. “You are a good fighter. You learn the ways of the desert quickly. But you are stupid. Like a hamster. Balls bigger than brains.”

Paul went silent, nodding once. Stilgar was blunt, more vulgar than Gurney had been, calmer than Dr. Yueh.

“I merely want to ensure the continuation of the ecosystem.”

“No. The desert has a balance.” Stilgar made a gesture. “Too much life, too little water. The desert balances out everything on its own. You do not recognize that trampling on a nest was the desert working through you.”

Paul, to his credit, nodded.

“I see.”

“Good. Now take the mice back from that poor woman you’ve burdened.”

“But you said-“

“No. I supported you in front of her because I am your teacher. But in private I will not tolerate such stupid mistakes.” Stilgar said, voice gentle and level, but firm. 

Paul nodded, trudging off in the direction of his mother’s chambers. Sure enough, the baby mice were sat in a container that trapped water. It was warm too. He supposed it was fitting. Two pairs of feet could be seen, in an odd position. Two right feet together, and two left, like one person was sitting in another’s lap. Well no shit Paul, that was what was happening.

“Mother, I…”

Paul trailed off as he took in the scene. His mother leaning into the front of the Fremen woman from before, her hands rubbing over his mother’s swelling, bare abdomen. Bare abdomen. 

“What is this?” he grew defensive, using anger to substitute his embarrassment at having walked in on a sensual scene.

“I am massaging the skin to loosen the tension.” you replied, not stopping for him.

Jessica hardly stirred, head lolling back against you. Her brow was relaxed, fine lines disappearing as she was tended to.

“Paul, what is it?” she sighed.

“The Muad’Dib pups.”

Both you and Jessica groaned internally. The crease in her brow returned.

“Stilgar said I need to release them back into the desert.”

Jessica clicked her tongue in annoyance. She had been so close to tempting the Fremen girl into going farther. Too close.

“So do that.” she retorted.

Paul fixed you with a look. It was like playing chicken. He wouldn’t back down, and neither would you. The object of debate? Jessica. How you were handling Jessica. The crease in her brow remained. You kissed it away, hands still massaging oil into her belly. His face went red.

“Does Alia appreciate that?” he snidely commented.

“She does.” you replied, massaging carefully.

“Ah.” Paul said, giving the nastiest bitch glare a boy of fifteen could muster.

But seriously, who could blame him? He was watching someone put moves on his pregnant, prophecy riddled mother. It was enough to make him vomit. Or anyone vomit.

“Paul, take the mice and go.” Jessica groaned, pulling one of your hands lower, massaging the crevice between her stomach and her hip bone.

Paul reached for the mice. Then he paused.

“They’re in your care. You said you’d take care of them.” Paul countered.

“Paul, don’t be intentionally thick. Stilgar said to release them, so do so.” Jessica instructed, voice getting tight.

“Well they’re hers. Shouldn’t she do it?”

“No. You brought the mice, they’re your responsibility. Leave (Reader) out of this.”

You added more of the reclaimed oil to your palm, continuing to massage the swelling tissue of Jessica’s stomach. Paul still continued to stand there with a comically disgusted look on his face.

“You’re wasting water.”

“Paul, this oil does not evaporate quickly. Most will be absorbed into the skin. The moisture that escapes will be collected again.” you replied, voice even.

Jessica lay still. Then she cracked both eyes open, almost glaring her son down.

“The mice.” she ordered, blue eyes sparking with fire.

Paul skittered away, taking the tiny cup of mice and leaving. Jessica waited for the boy to leave, grabbing your hand again, bringing it down beneath the light blanket covering her hips, down, down, down….

“Oh!” Jessica gasped. “Yes!”

You kissed her shoulder, slowly moving your fingers over that tiny, pulsing…

“Wait!” you heard Paul say, giving you about three seconds to pull your hand out of Jessica’s crotch before he stormed in. “These mice are holy. They cannot be left to die.”

Jessica’s hands clenched against the fabric of the blanket, taking in a long exhale through the nose.

“Paul. Out. Now.” she snapped.

“What, am I interrupting your massage?” he sassed.

Jessica was seething. What about six little thumb sized mice had him so riled up? Stubborn. A stubborn idiot of a boy. Her idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.

“How do you think you were created, huh?” Jessica huffed. “Or her?” she pointed to her stomach.

Paul’s jaw dropped, looking between you and Jessica with growing moral outrage and embarrassment.

“Alia? While Alia is there?”

Jessica pulled her dress down, ensuring her entire body was covered before pulling off the blanket.

“The mice. If you want them to live, attend to them yourself.” Jessica snapped. “You’ve exhausted my patience.”

Paul huffed, walking off. You stood with Jessica, quietly taking her arms in your hands.

“Jessica, what about…?”

“I’ve lost the mood.” Jessica sighed, adjusting the fabric of her dress over her abdomen. “Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize. You look tired. A nap, perhaps?”

Jessica nodded, working her way towards the cot. You helped her lay down, propping her on her side with pillows and other comfy things.

“I’ll figure out the mice thing. You just rest.”

“Hmm.” she smiled, for just a moment.

You had some other matters to attend to. Matters best done while the Reverend Mother slept.

←→

Paul was awful at caring for little things, you deduced. It was a miracle he’d kept these mice alive at all up to this point. He cradled them wrong, fed them wrong, housed them poorly. The list was endless.

“Paul, no. You use the tiny straws with the thumb pressing on top to maintain the vacuum.” 

“Yeah, well I am!”

“No, you let too much pressure out and nearly drown them when the water comes out too fast. If your mother was here to see how much water you were wasting, she’d hang us both.”

Paul huffed, finally exerting himself to the micro attentions required to feed the mice. You huffed, focusing on feeding all six of the tiny mouse pups.

“What happens when they’re adults, hmm? They won’t be fit to live in the dunes.”

Paul rolled his eyes.

“Don’t sass your elders.” you scowled. “This is a genuine concern.”

“I’m not. You’re like five, six, maybe seven years older than me.”

“I’m a Sayyadina. A junior priestess. I outrank you, and I have sway with your mother.”

Paul let out an angry grumble.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s gross. My mother really loved my father. You’re just entertainment.” Paul glowered.

You didn’t answer, focusing your energy towards feeding one of the comically small mice pups. Soft footsteps came down the hallway, another Sayyadina whispering in Chakobsa. You nodded, setting the mini straw and mice pup down.

“Where are you going?” Paul got defensive.

“To go sway your mother.” you retorted.

Paul flushed crimson, and you chuckled a bit. He’d made it too easy.

The other Sayyadina led you to her chambers, not that you needed an escort or a guide. She delivered you to her door, as was custom. But not before whispering excitedly to you.

“Paul is raising mice? Everyone’s talking about it. He’s so sweet, caring for such tiny pups.”

“Well, he’s terrible at it. Don’t be-”

“Enough chatter.” Jessica called. “I require her, Harah.”

The Sayyadina, Harrah, blushed in shame to be caught speaking in such a way of Jessica’s son. You watched her skitter away, leaving you to breeze past the cloth drape separating Jessica’s chambers from the rest of the communal sietch living area.

“I assume you’re here to reprimand me.” 

Jessica wrinkled her nose, waving away the statement like a pesky insect.

“No, no. It’s not my largest concern what the… Just come here.”

You smiled, simultaneously relieved and curious for what she required. You settled at her side, hands cautiously reaching for hers.

“This pregnancy… The bloodflow gets concentrated, you see. And I wake up just so inflamed.” she smirked, pulling you closer by your forearms. “Being my chosen confidant and healer, could you inspect me?”

It was a bawdy proposition, one that drew your mind right back to where the two of you had left off. Jessica let out a hum, pulling her skirts over her hips, laying on her back as you crawled forwards.

“Be most accommodating and skip the teasing. I don’t need it.” Jessica husked.

You nodded, bringing your face between her thighs, inhaling the concentrated smell of her sex, mouth opening, tongue extending-

“Reverend Mother, your boy is causing a ruckus.” Stilgar boomed, strolling into the tent without regard for a warning.

You reacted quickly, covering your Reverend’s body with your own until she managed to cover herself. Stilgar tilted his body, looking up at the ceiling.

“The rumors are true.” he nodded, smiling in his dumb way.

“Enough.” Jessica huffed. “What is this ruckus you speak of?”

Stilgar, still amused at having walked in on an almost moment between the Reverend and her favored Sayyadina did not change his demeanor.

“Paul is raising mice and wasting water. I want it to stop.”

“I told the boy-”

“Ahh, but you are not the only problem here.” Stilgar waggled his finger. “Someone taught him to feed them using tiny straws.”

Jessica looked up at you, crossing her arms.

“You said you were going to take care of it.”

You had said that. She wasn’t wrong.

“I’ll make him take them into the dunes.”

“No, no you won’t.”Jessica snapped, slowly pulling herself to her feet. “I will. And you will sit on this cot and not move until I am done.”

Both Jessica and Stilgar left the room, leaving you to sit and think about what you did until Jessica returned. It was boring. There were limited ways to tell time inside the sietch, thus time passed slowly mostly. But this wait? Eternal. A pair of boots stomped into the room, and angry, flushed in the face Paul staring at you.

“She just dumped them in the dunes.”

All you could do was sigh and nod.

“It was the right thing to do.”

“No, no it wasn’t!” Paul insisted. “They’re holy! They’re special mice, they collect water with their ears-”

“And they burrow into our food stores and eat our flour and grain!” you snapped. “They’re pests! The desert is a merciful, swift way to die. They will be fine.”

Paul stood there, chest heaving and face flushed.

“She just left them.” Paul huffed.

His expression and emotions weren’t correlated to the issue at hand.

“This isn’t about the mice, is it?” you asked quietly. 

“No. No it’s not. My Father died and she moved on in a few months. It’s not fair. It’s like she never loved him.” Paul huffed.

Standing on two feet, you walked over to the distraught, comically skinny teenage boy.

“She does. She mourns him every night. Mostly in silence. Some nights she calls me to her chambers to catch her tears when she isn’t strong enough to bear the pain. I’m a comfort. And you will learn that sex and closeness with another can be a coping mechanism for some.” you answered, squeezing his shoulders. “I’m not replacing the man your mother loved. I’m just here to help her along and keep her upright on the days where getting up seems impossible.”

Paul stayed still. He processed quietly.

“Okay.” he said, not convinced.

“I’m a bit like how Chani is to you. She’s a companion on your journey. You lift each other up. You aren’t life partners quite yet, but you mean something to one another.”

The boy took deep, heaving breaths, restraining himself from tears. You knew how hard it was. 

“Paul.” came Jessica’s gentle alto, drifting in from the entrance to her room. “I miss him every day.”

Paul turned, mother and son meeting each other's eyes, both restraining their own tears. You bid him goodbye with a squeeze, leaving the room for their privacy. When Jessica sent for you a few hours later, Paul was asleep on the cot. Her arms found your waist, and she offered a rare kiss.

“Thank you. We needed that conversation.” Jessica murmured.

You smiled, awkwardly holding her, even with her large belly in the way. Her hands strayed, taking slow paths down your shoulders and spine.

“Perhaps we can thank each other.” Jessica whispered.

“Paul is right there.” you whispered, a bit mortified.

“He won’t hear.” she promised, attempting to pull you behind a folding privacy screen.

“I heard that.” Paul sleepily commented.

Jessica, the poor, pregnant Jessica with an inflamed body, sore feet and an aching, lost it. For just a moment. The madness flickered in her eyes before she took a deep breath in. Paul stumbled to his feet, walking towards the door. 

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” he sighed, slipping past the sietch curtains.

You didn’t get a break, Jessica’s mouth finding your neck to lay several long kisses there. Clothes went flying, both of you skipping the presumptives after a day of having been interrupted again and again by Paul’s antics. Jessica’s legs were over your shoulders, your mouth finally encircling her aching core when a little hand pressed out. The string of cuss words spilling from Jessica’s lips was all you needed to know.

Alia had woken up. 

Tag list: @ilovehotactresses @marvelwomenrule @midnight-lestrange @bjoerkumlaut, @lovelyy-moonlight, @coffee-is-my-oxygen, @appparadox407

Send an ask/ message to be added. Ageless bios added to SFW category by default.

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Hello. I left a request with Crosshair the other day, but seeing the down state of my boy Hunter in this new season I had to come here to leave another one. So the idea is Hunter x F! Reader (with established relationship?) where on the mission to capture the Pike, she gets hurt and has to stay in Pabu. So when he and Wrecker come back with the cadets, they have a moment of comfort together, you know? It's clear that Wrecker is trying hard to keep Hunter sane, so maybe the reader is too? Xx

Hello lovely! Thank you for the request. I had a lot of fun with this one - he looked so tired and sad in that episode 😔 x

Whispers of Home's Embrace

Hunter has always been calm and strategic, but with Omega's prolonged absence, he's unraveling at the seams, working himself into the ground. It's a good thing you're there to slow him down, and remind him that neglecting himself in the process isn't healthy.

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: slight spoilers for S3E02, fluff, sweetness, comfort, pet names.

Translations: ri’vod - sibling in law

A light breeze wafted in through the open window, the late afternoon sun flooding the kitchen as you hummed along to the music from the small radio on the window ledge, adding the final touches of icing to the cupcakes you’d baked.

Capturing the Pyke who’d brought dishonour to Roland wasn’t easy, and you’d paid a small price for it. Whereas Hunter and Wrecker had their old armour to keep them safe, you didn’t, preferring the manoeuvrability you had with softer protection.

Unfortunately, that had meant the blow the Pyke had struck to your side while you’d been wrestling him into submission had cracked a rib. Hunter’s fist had met his face seconds later, rendering him unconscious. Still, the boys had insisted on returning you to Pabu before they took him to Roland and collected the information you all desperately needed.

With nothing but time, you’d turned your focus to more domestic tasks to drown out your worry. Hunter and Wrecker were more than capable, but it felt wrong for them to be without you. You’d been with them since the very beginning.

Lost in a haze of icing, you almost missed the sound of the front door opening. Quietly, you placed down the piping bag, fingers sliding around the hilt of the knife you’d left on the counter. You weren’t expecting guests.

Moving silently across the kitchen, you pressed your back against the wall beside the door, hiding yourself from view. As the footsteps drew nearer, you held your breath, tension coiling in your muscles. The familiar creak of the floorboards announced the intruder’s approach. Your grip tightened on the knife, your heart pounding in your chest. Then, a soft voice broke the silence, dispelling the tension like a gentle breeze dispersing fog.

“Hey, it’s just me.” Came Hunter’s familiar voice, concern evident in his tone. Relief flooded through you, and you released a shaky breath, lowering the knife as you stepped out of your hiding spot. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Hunter chuckled, his expression softening as he took in the scene before him - the cupcakes, the radio playing softly in the background, and you, with a hint of flour dusting your cheek.

You shook your head, dismissing his apology with a wave. “No worries, it’s…”

“You live here!?” An unfamiliar voice interrupted your apology, and you watched Hunter step aside, revealing three young boys who were decidedly dirty and a little malnourished.

Wrecker barreled into the kitchen behind them, a giant grin on his face. “Smells good in here, ri’vod!”

Confused, you look at the three young boys and then back to Hunter. “Who are they?” You ask, wafting your knife in their direction.

“Regs. We found a bombed-out Imperial base. They escaped and were fending for themselves in the jungle.” Hunter gives you the short version, watching as you quirk an eyebrow.

Not wanting to be impolite, especially after brandishing a knife, you set the utensil down on the counter and introduce yourself.

“I’m Mox.” In return, the tallest of the three boys introduces himself before gesturing towards the other two boys. “This is Deke and Stak.”

“You’re pretty. Are all girls as pretty as you?” Deke pipes up, wide brown eyes focused on your face.

Amused by Deke’s straightforward question, you chuckle softly before replying. “Well, thank you, Deke. But trust me, plenty of girls out there are much prettier.” Your words earn a shy smile from the young boy.

“That’s a lie.” Hunter retorts, leaning against the nearest wall, arms folded across his chest.

Rolling your eyes, you offer him an amused smile. “You’re biased.” You fire back, holding his gaze for a moment. The simple action conveys a thousand words, and you can’t help but spot how much more tired he looks compared to the other week when you were dropped off. He’s been neglecting himself again.

“Well, if you’re done hitting on my wife, we can show you around.” Hunter breaks the moment, turning his focus to the three young boys.

“Wife? Aw, hell.” Deke mutters, earning laughter from Stak and Wrecker.

“Thought we weren’t allowed to get married?” Mox probes, narrowed eyes darting between you and Hunter.

“Technically, no,” Hunter answers him straight. “But things are a bit different here on Pabu. We’re treated like equals. We have the same rights as anyone else.” He clarifies, head tilting to look at you for a moment.

You smile fondly, remembering the quiet little ceremony you’d had right before everything had gone to hell. Echo, Wrecker, Tech, and Omega had been the only ones present for the union. Getting married had been an impromptu decision – during the war, neither of you had dared hope it would ever be possible - but you didn’t regret it for one second.

Sensing that you and Hunter might need some time, Wrecker offers the kids a grin. “C’mon, lemme show ya around.” He starts ushering them out of the kitchen. “We can get ya cleaned up, too.”

Pushing off the wall, Hunter goes to follow, but Wrecker holds a hand up. “I got this, Hunter. Don’t worry.” He offers his brother a smile before leading the boys away.

Gratitude curls through Hunter. He knows you and his brother have been going the extra mile for him lately, and he hates the burden that is placed on you both.

“Omega?” You ask quietly, stepping towards your husband, sliding into the warmth of his arms as he draws you into an embrace.

Hunter shakes his head and sighs. “Roland’s intel led us to the facility where we found the regs. Deke downloaded some intel from a panel – not much to go on, but we have a sector as a lead.”

Heaviness weaves through your body, and the hope that had been building dims into a small flicker. You’d keep hold of it, though. You weren’t about to give up. As you step back, you take Hunter’s hand, leading him out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. “They’ll be safe here. That’s something.” You insist, guiding Hunter upstairs and into your shared bedroom. He was in desperate need of a wash, some sleep, and a good meal in the morning.

Hunter makes a slight noise of agreement. It wasn’t the outcome he hoped for, but it still counted as a win. Inhaling deeply as you enter the bedroom, his shoulders sag as your comforting scent fills his nose.

Easing him down onto the bed, you kneel at his feet to remove his boots, wincing a little at the ache in your ribs as you set them aside. “I’ll start looking at the maps for that sector in the morning.” You vow. “Echo or Rex might be able to fill in some blanks for us too.”

Impatience rolls through Hunter. There was no time. It couldn’t be left until the morning. What if something happened and Omega was moved again? They wouldn’t have any leads anymore. “It can’t wait until then.” Hunter insists, attempting to stand up.

Unwilling to take any of his nonsense, you press a hand to his abdomen and shove him back down. “Yes, it can.” You insist, your tone catching Hunter by surprise. “I know Omega’s been gone a long time. I want our girl back as desperately as you. But what good are you exhausted?” You question, prying off the limited armour that covers his legs, stacking it nearly at the foot of the bed. “Finding her and Crosshair is of the utmost importance. But you cannot neglect yourself in the process.”

Hunter grumbles, but he knows you’re right. He sinks back into the mattress, allowing exhaustion to finally catch up. Your hands move with practised care, stripping away the layers of armour and padding. As you work, he watches you, a mixture of gratitude and worry in his eyes. You’ve always been the anchor, the one who keeps him grounded when everything else threatens to spiral out of control. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He admits softly, his voice heavy with emotion.

You pause, meeting his gaze with warmth and determination. “You won’t have to find out.” You assure him, leaning down to kiss his forehead gently. “We’ll find Omega and Crosshair. Together.” You vow. “Now, let’s get you a bath.” You rise to your feet, pointing at his undersuit. “Off.” You instruct, leaving him to follow your order as you move into the fresher. Plugging the tub, you turn on the taps. While a shower would be more efficient, it wouldn’t help him relax.

As the water fills the tub, you add a few drops of essential oil, knowing its calming properties will help ease Hunter’s tension. Returning to the bedroom, you find him obediently removing his undersuit, looking worn but determined. His commitment to the mission is unwavering, but you understand the toll it takes on him physically and emotionally.

Silently, you help him into the warm water, watching as the tension gradually melts from his muscles. Hunter leans back, closing his eyes, a rare moment of peace enveloping him. Sitting beside the tub, you run a wet cloth over his shoulders, gently washing away the grime, offering him a moment of respite from the chaos of the galaxy.

As you work, your mind drifts to Omega and Crosshair, wondering what trials they’re enduring and how you can help bring them home safely. The weight of responsibility sits heavy on your shoulders, but you refuse to let it crush you. You’ll do whatever it takes to reunite your family.

After a while, Hunter opens his eyes, meeting your gaze with a soft smile of gratitude. “Thank you.” He murmurs, his voice laced with exhaustion and affection.

“Anytime, my heart.” You whisper back, abandoning the washcloth to instead pry the filthy bandanna from around his head. With his hair free, your hand finds its way into it, fingernails scratching across his scalp.

A low moan slips from Hunter’s lips at the sensation, and he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut again. The warmth of the water soothes his tired muscles, and the gentle rhythm of your fingers through his hair lulls him into a state of relaxation he hasn’t felt in ages. As you continue to massage his scalp, he lets his mind empty. “You were right.” He admits quietly.

“Happens sometimes. Rare as it may be.” You drag your nails down the side of his head until your fingers skim the shell of his ear, changing gear to stroke down the plane of his cheekbone.

A small huff of amusement leaves him, and Hunter’s eyes open to meet your own. “Don’t undersell yourself, riduur.” 

Warmth sweeps through you at the title. It would still take some getting used to. “No promises.” You tease, earning a tired smile from him. “Also, does this mean we’re starting up an orphanage?” You tease.

Hunter chuckles softly, his fatigue momentarily forgotten as he enjoys your playful banter. “Maybe we should. Seems like we’ve already got a few residents.” He remarks.

“Well, if those kids are anything like you and Wrecker, they’ll fit right in.” You reply, fondness in your voice as you reach for a small bowl sitting on the tub’s edge. Dipping it into the water to fill it, you lift it as Hunter tilts his head back, letting you pour the warm water over his hair. You take your time washing away the grime until the water cools before helping Hunter out of the tub, handing him a fluffy towel to dry off.

“You staying for a nap?” Hunter asks, giving his wet hair a rub with the towel.

“Of course.” You reply with a smile, reaching for another towel to hand to him. “Just let me clean up here first.”

Hunter nods understandingly, wrapping the second towel around his waist before leaving the bathroom. You quickly drain the tub and wipe down the surfaces, ensuring everything is tidy before joining him in the bedroom.

When you enter the room, Hunter is slipping into a clean pair of sleep pants. He looks more refreshed, the exhaustion still evident in his eyes but less pronounced than before. You can’t help but admire the strength and resilience he carries, even in the face of adversity.

Settling into bed beside him, you pull the covers over yourselves, the warmth of the blankets cocooning you both in comfort. Hunter turns to face you, his gaze softening as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

You smile, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his. “Get some rest, love.” You whisper, leaning in to kiss his lips tenderly. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

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[decorativetrashbag]

Cup of Coffee, and a Tall Glass of You

Parings: Sanji x Female Reader Summary: Zeff hired a barista for the restaurant, FINALLY, but Sanji wasn't expecting a girl, let alone one as beautiful as you. He can handle his coffee, but can he handle a dollop of falling in love? Warnings: None! like 2 instances of Y/N Genre: Fluff, Modern AU, Barista AU Words: 3.7k

a/n: this one's been asked for, and at my barista job, i had nothing better to do BUT write this. I think this is the only story i started writing, then rewrote all of it lol. enjoy it! <3

“I wonder if we have potatoes…” Sanji mumbled to himself in the empty kitchen as he whisked the eggs He had just cracked into the bowl. It was about 5:45 am now, but Sanji always came to work early to prepare breakfast. Most of the other chefs start rolling in about 6:20, and as much as Sanji loved the sound of a bustling kitchen, he'd be lying if he didn't say he enjoyed the quiet, empty moments too. Even though he had to follow the menu Zeff always posted the night before, cooking in the kitchen alone gave him a bit of freedom. He was pulled out of his thoughts about what dish to make with potatoes when he heard the door open and Zeff entering the kitchen. 

“Morning, old man,” Sanji said, adding the seasonings to the eggs. 

“You’re always here so early, Sanji,” Zeff replied with a thunderous chuckle. 

“Breakfast isn't going to serve itself,” Sanji stated, incorporating the scrambled egg mix again. 

“We have chefs that can do that too,” Zeff said, hobbling over on his fake leg to look over the blonde's shoulder. 

“I know,” Sanji said, rolling his eyes. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Zeff nod at his work and lean on the counter. 

“Trust in the kitchen Sanji, they do hard work,” He said. Sanji chuckled. 

“I would if they knew what they were doing most of the time,” the comment made Zeff laugh and pat Sanji’s back. 

“I'll give you credit for that I guess.” 

“Why are you here so early? Are we getting a shipment in or something?” Sanji asked, setting down the bowl of eggs and fishing his phone out of his pocket for the time. Zeff hummed and walked over to a shelf to grab another mixing bowl. 

“I’m here early cause we have a new hire. Finally got us a barista to handle the morning crowd from that hotel ‘cross the way,” he said, as Sanji’s ears perked up with interest. 

“You hired someone?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, and without your opinion either,” Zeff chuckled. 

“Well, is he any good?” Sanji asked, getting out a pan to preheat it on the stove. Zeff sighed as he set down a bag of flour.

“She has experience, so she knows what she's doing,” Zeff said, which caused Sanji to stop what he was doing and look up at the older man. “I've already trained her on the basics, she's got a cheat sheet if she forgets.” 

“Back up, she?” Sanji asked, now fully turning towards him. “Is she here??” 

“She is, she walked in after I did.” Before Sanji could even start walking towards the kitchen door Zeff grabbed his arm to stop him. 

“Don't go flirting with my barista,” He said in a low and stern tone.

“I'm not gonna flirt with her, what makes you think that?” Sanji laughed nervously. 

“Cause the second I said she, ya got heart eyes. Eggplant, I know you're a ladies man. If you weren’t complaining about being a waiter for the first couple weeks of us opening, you were laying charm on the women sittin at tables.” Sanji frowned a bit at the call out, but Zeff wasn't lying. He knew he was a little girl crazy, and was the cause of a lot of fights. Zeff let go of his arm and sighed. 

“You can introduce yourself to her, just don't make her uncomfortable.” Sanji grinned as Zeff turned him back to the pan on the stove. 

“Scramble these eggs first, since you're already here. You can check out the station after, and I need your help making the pastries to sell out there.” Sanji sighed but turned on the stove anyway. 

“Fair point, finishing cooking what I started. I'll greet her on my smoke break.” Zeff hummed in approval as the two began cooking breakfast and making the pastries. Slowly but surely more chefs started rolling in for their shifts and before Sanji knew it they were open for the day and the kitchen was bustling and busy, the quiet morning evaporating like the steam off the fresh pastries Zeff pulled out of the oven. 

Around 10:30 am Sanji wiped his hands on the towel draped across his shoulder and walked through the kitchen over to Zeff, fishing the cigarette box out of his pocket. 

“I'll be back in like, 15,” Sanji said, waving the box to him and Zeff nodded. 

“We'll take it from here,” he said as Sanji left the kitchen. He briskly walked by tables of people dining, stopping occasionally to ask customers how their meal was. Walking out of the second room of tables, Sanji reached the front of the restaurant, starting to pick up with the brunch crowd, the host trying to seat people, waiters bustling around the tables to meet people's needs. And there, in the corner of the front of the restaurant, next to the bar, was the new barista. He watched your set down a couple to-go cups, lidded them, and sent a customer on their way with a smile, doing the same for someone who ordered a pastry, judging by the to-go box you handed them. Though he was known to be a little girl-crazy, and seen his fair share of beautiful women, he admitted he was a bit taken aback. You were definitely up there with some he found beautiful. He made his way over to you as customers exited the restaurant or went to be seated, greeting them as he passed them. Sanji finally made his way up to you, placing his hands on either side of the register and looking up at the menu, studying the options. He looked around your little corner as you served people, you were pretty set up for handling customers. A dishwasher, two sets of fridges, one with windows in to see the bottled stuff, a countertop oven, a place to brew more coffee, the big espresso machine he knew Zeff poured a lot of money into, syrups, cups, lids, ice maker. All you needed was a stove and you'd have a whole kitchen. 

“Have a good one guys! Oh! Hey you work here right?” You asked him, pulling Sanji back to reality and you leaned on the counter in front of him. He blushed a little being up close to you, quickly trying to study every detail of your face before he answered. 

“I do, yeah!” He started sticking his hand out for you to shake. You took his hand and gave it a gentle handshake, Sanji could almost feel the sparks from fingertips brushing and hands meeting. He took your hand and gingerly kissed the back of it. “I'm Sanji,” He winked, watching your cheeks grow a light pink dust of blush. 

“Oh, you're Sanji,” you chuckled, “that makes sense now.”

“You know?” Sanji asked, it tugged at his heart to hear you say his name. 

“Zeff told me all about you. I'm Y/N,” you said as he let your hand go, feeling the electric tingle sizzle away as you left his touch. He cursed Zeff in his head for filling your brain with info about him, for probably exaggerating how he acts towards women and silently thanking Zeff for putting the idea of him in your thoughts. 

“Y/N, well it's nice to meet you! Zeff told him he hired someone, didn't know it'd be a beautiful rose like you,” Sanji said, really laying on his quintessential charm.

“Yeah! He trained me all weekend so I feel pretty familiar with everything.” All weekend? No wonder he was out of the loop, he took the weekend off to spend time with Luffy and the gang.

“How are the pastries doing?” Sanji asked, the chef side of him curious about the work he put into helping make the pastries today. The both of you looked at the case, the fresh pastries sitting on plates ready for the perusing eyes of people. 

“Good! Had a lot of to-go's for them, they must look as good as they taste,” you said. 

“Well Zeff and I did bake them this morning, so I'd hope they'd be enjoyed.” He said, watching you blush a little and look at him.

“You made them this morning?? Oh wow! Usually the places I've worked at make them the night before!” Watching your amazement at the idea of them baking the pastries fresh made his heart squeeze in his chest. He was smitten, you were adorable to him.

“Well, glad you're settling in just fine! It can be hectic but if Zeff trusts you, then so do I,” he smiled, finally pulling a cigarette out of the box, about to make his leave.

“Oh! Sanji! Did you need anything from me?” You asked, leaning onto the counter and looking up at him, tilting your head a little at your own question. Sanji looked at you, blinking a bit as he felt his cheeks get hot. Not only did you call him by name, but asked him if he needed anything from you. Of course he could think of a million flirtatious answers, he felt like he might be thrown back in happiness and a nosebleed, or that he could drop dead right now and be the happiest he's been. Sanji, cleared his throat, cheeks burning with blush as he just smiled. 

“Maybe I'll grab a coffee later! Just wanted to say hi and all that,” he said, feeling like words were just falling out of his mouth. 

“Nice to meet you!” You said giving him a wave as he walked outside. 

“Pleasure's all mine!” Sanji waved back, once he got out of view, he lit his cigarette and leaned against the wall. He ran a hand through his hair, still feeling the heat of blush on his face. He exhaled a stream of smoke, but to him it looked like hearts, and it might as well have been. 

“God, she's so cute,” he mumbled, a bit lovesick already. 

~4 months later~

Sanji always looked forward to work. He loved cooking, he loved that he could cook for others and see that happy smile on their faces as they ate. He loved the creative freedom Zeff would let him have once in a while for a dish and be lucky if it made the daily special. He loved getting to work early to start prepping for the day, and he loved you. Of course he hadn't told you yet, but he loved getting to work at the same time as you, he loved when you asked for his help, he loved getting the coffee on break and opening it to see the heart in the latte art. He adored when you asked if he needed anything else from you, he'd hold his tongue and say something polite, but in his dreams he'd pull out the lines he wished he could say. 

On a slower day, You and Sanji were talking as the few tables used were cleaned off. Both of you leaned over the counter as you watched Sanji carefully ice one of the delicate pastries. 

“I don't think I've ever seen it so slow in here,” you remarked as Sanji pulled the piping bag away. 

“It's an early weekday, it happens every now and again,” He said, leaning back over the pastry.

“You wanna coffee?” You asked, “I feel like I should at least look busy.”

“That sounds amazing actually, usual vanilla latte for me,” He said, looking up at you with a smile as you nodded and went off to make it. He pulled the piping bag away one last time and admired his work, finally setting it down and watching you work. It has been about 4 months since you started here, and Sanji has never skipped a beat in saying hello to you every morning and taking in every word you had to say on his break. Since your shift ends around noon, he felt it best to soak up every ounce of you before you'd run off for the rest of the day. Even then, he still thought about you, he was a flirt and a ladies man, sure, but when it came to you, he didn't know how to act, what to say, how to express himself. It made him a mess, a love sick mess. Sanji was brought back to reality with the mug being placed in front of him with that heart shaped latte art. He smiled. 

“You always give me a heart,” he said, taking a sip. 

“It's one of the few I've got down to a habit,” you chuckled, looking at the pastry. “Wow, you did a great job! If no one eats it, I might!” He felt a tug as you pulled at his heart strings. He wasn't worthy of you eating his food, and he certainly wasn't worthy of the praise. 

“You'll have to tell me how it is,” he said, watching you put it in the case. 

“Well, you should cook for me sometime, since I keep hearing how good of a cook you are,” you said, resting your hand on your cheek. 

“I'd love to, dear, say the word and I'll do it,” He flirted, happy to see you laugh at it. He has slowly been trying to be more bold with you, and it seemed you were used to it at this point. 

“Coffee's good?” You asked as he finished the rest of the small mugs worth. 

“Perfect as always, I'll make you food, if you keep making me coffee,” he said, leaning on both his arms resting on the counter. 

“Sounds like a deal,” you chuckled, pink dusting your cheeks as he looked at you. 

“Need anything else from me, Sanji?” God, it killed him every time. The sweet look you gave him, saying his name sounded like honey dripping into tea, his heart squeezed and did flips when you asked. It felt like you were teasing him every time you asked, just pushing his buttons to get him to confess. He needed you, and all to himself. 

“Well, maybe your number?” Sanji flirted, unable to help himself anymore, he was wrapped around your finger whether you knew or not. Your cheeks get rosy as you blinked. 

“My number?” You asked, a little stunned but raise your eyebrow with a small smile in reply. “4 months of us knowing each other, Sanji, and you just got the courage to ask?” 

“Well it felt weird asking you out right, and Zeff warned me against flirting with you, buuut you keep teasing me and now I have to ask,” Sanji admitted, leaning closer to you. You rolled your eyes with a smile. 

“I'm a tease?” You chuckled and Sanji nodded. “You know, when they said you were a huge flirt and a playboy, I definitely saw it, but man, you can be a mess.” 

“Only around you, I don't know why, I'm just smitten by you,” He said with a softened tone and look in his eyes that made you blush. You managed to fumble pulling the pen out of your apron pocket and rolled out some receipt paper and began writing. He had never seen you so flustered unless you messed up an order, one in a blue moon, it was adorable, it made him swoon inside. 

“Plus, you're like one of the main things I look forward to coming to work,” he explained, causing you to look up from your writing. 

“What's the other main thing?” 

“Cooking,” He said plainly. 

“Cooking?” You asked, certainly not believing him. “You like cooking that much?”

“Of course! Look, everyone that comes here enjoys their food. Right?”

“Yeah, customers always tell me, always a rave review.”

“I love cooking and seeing the happy smiles on their faces eating my food. To make good food, to not ever let any go to waste, and that no one walks away hungry.” Sanji explained as you looked at him paying attention to every gesture and word he said. You chuckled a little. 

“I don't think I've seen or heard anyone be as passionate about cooking as you. You must be amazing at it.” You said, finishing your writing. 

“I'll have to cook for you sometime,” Sanji smiled, taking out a cigarette and sticking it between his lips unlit. 

“That's what you can use my number for,” You teased, snapping your fingers like the idea just came to you. Sanji happily played along.

“Oh yeah! Just call you to come over and try my cooking! Didn't even cross my mind.” He said. 

You pushed the piece of paper over to him and he took it, folded it and put it in his pocket.

“Gotta keep it safe,” he said with a wink. Suddenly the moment was interrupted by Zeff calling for Sanji.

“Sanji! What'd I say about making googly eyes at my barista??” Zeff interrupted thunderously, chucking a ladle at him. Quick reflexes cause Sanji to kick-box it out of the way back towards Zeff.

“I'm not making her uncomfortable, old man! Watch where you throw!’ Sanji shouted back. 

“All that kicking doesn't do anything for this kitchen except break up fights!” You then chimed in and said;

“It's fine Zeff, he's not bothering me.” Zeff softened at your comment and nodded, picking up the ladle and pointing it at both of you. 

“If he makes you uncomfortable, I'll take care of him,” he said, hobbling back to the kitchen. 

“Mmm, you're in trouble now” you teased the blonde cook, who chuckled in reply. 

“Well, duty calls, thanks for the coffee!” 

“Let me know if you need anything from me!” You waved and Sanji almost swooned at the idea, of course he could always need something from you, just for the excuse of taking your time. 

~2 months later~

Sanji awoke to the sound of his phone alerting him that he had a message. Fighting every part of him telling him don’t look, just lay here and try to fall back asleep, he rolled over and picked up his phone anyway. The time of 9:00 am looked back at him. Normally he’d be up at the crack of dawn to get to work for Zeff’s restaurant, but he slept in enough today. It was a message from Zeff with the photo of the menu for next week’s specials attached. 

“I'm not even gonna worry about that right now,” he said, putting his phone down and sitting up in bed. “It’s my day off, I'm going to enjoy it.” With that sentiment in mind, he got out of bed and got ready for the day. He pulled on a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants, nothing compared to his usual look of dress pants and a crisp button down shirt. As he got dressed the smell of coffee wafted through the air, and he put his phone in his pocket, following the enticing smell into the kitchen. The sight of the kitchen made him smile, sunlight was already creeping through the apartment windows as you stood in the kitchen, pouring espresso into a couple mugs and steaming milk on his espresso machine. He admired your concentration that he'd normally see when you're working. Instead of the regular uniform, you were wearing one of his dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up, it was just big enough to pass as a short dress on you. Being as quiet as he could, he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. Feeling you standing up straight, he nestled his head into your neck. 

“Hey, I didn't know you were awake,” you said, tilting the mug as you made a design out of the milk. 

“I didn't hear you get up,” Sanji said, intently watching. He knew how to make latte art, but he liked watching you do it. 

“Well, lover boy, it seemed like you needed sleep, so I didn't want to wake you.” You explained as you moved to the second mug. 

“You didn't have to make coffee, the restaurant's closed today, we're off,” he teased as you chuckled. 

“I'm aware, I just thought you wanted coffee. It's not hard to do, it only took me like, 10 minutes to figure out your machine.” Sanji hummed, planting a kiss on your neck. 

“You're all the morning coffee I need, love,” he purred, and you laughed. 

“You love sick dork,” you said, turning to face him in his arms, handing Sanji the mug as he broke the hug. “I didn't know you had the same coffee as work.” 

“Of course, who do you think told Zeff to get it in the first place?” He asked as you rolled your eyes. 

“Should've known.Are you gonna cook for me today?” You asked, looking up at him as you sipped. 

“Princess, I'd cook for you, even if you didn’t ask,” Sanji winked, making you smile. 

“I can cook too, ya know,” you said and Sanji chuckled. 

“You'll have to show me sometime.”

“You have my number,” you teased as he set the mug on the counter and pulled you back in his arms. 

“God I love you,” He sighed happily. You set your mug down and put his arms around your arms around his neck. 

“I'd hope so! You've texted me everyday for the past couple months, call me over. I'm not sure how a big handsome flirt like you managed to do it.” You chuckled.

“You're no better! Everyday I looked at your sweet face and asked me if I needed anything from you and I could've died on the spot, or said a flirty line! But I braved it.” He laughed. 

“I wasn't trying to tease, I was asking! You always came over to talk to me!” You laughed.  Sanji just smiled, taking one of his hands and putting a finger under your chin. 

“I'm just unworthy of you Princess,” he purred, leaning down and kissing you gently. You happily kissed back, letting your fingers play with the back of his hair. You tasted like coffee, he tasted like cigarettes. He hoisted you up and sat you on the counter, his arms around your waist, your legs around his hips. And as he kissed you, Sanji swore he could die happy, flirting with the cute barista was a million percent worth it. 

[hippielittlemetalhead]

Never Took The Time (To Forget) part 5: Man Of The Hour

Life is mildly less sucky with depression being more managed (also the mood boost from Renaissance Faires 😁) and my weekends being free again for me to travel to see my person. Still full of dumpster fires but I want to scream about it less. Also, been in feels very similar to the ones that inspired this whole endeavor so... enjoy?

Anywho, here's part 5! Enjoy, my little nerdlings. As always, feel free to yell at/with me in the comments, tags, reblogs and/or ask box. If you see any mistakes feel free to message me about them. 😬👌

Part 1: Hop Fucks Up, Part 2: Pride and Prejudices (Joyce Edition), Part 3: One of Us, Part 4.1: With A Capital P, Part 4.2: Robin's Boy

Steve Harrington was an odd duck. That's what his grandmother always used to say. She would pat his already proudly coiffed hair as he hung off the arm of her rocking chair and tell him as much whenever his parents took him to visit. He would beam at her with his big (reportedly pinchable by every aunt and grandmother in the family) cheeks and quack at her before cracking up at himself like he told the funniest joke and she would let him laugh until he rolled himself off her armchair to the plush carpeted floor. She would laugh and reach way over the arm of her chair to poke his stomach or cheek or nose, sometimes just his little forehead, before leveraging herself up out of her chair and taking herself to the kitchen to boot his mother out of it. Steve Harrington was a certified 'odd duck'.

Steve isn't sure, as he sits in that old rocking chair he had stolen liberated from his parent's house when he moved into his new apartment, when he became whatever he is now. He slowly rocks himself back and forth, the chair creaking a little as his weight shifts. The kids and other teens are chattering on the walkie but it's nothing too pressing, just nonsense and junk food emergencies, Mike cursing out Hop. His ribs hurt and his nose is sore but it doesn't feel like anything is broken. It sucks he knows what broken feels like. It sucks that Robin is kind of mad at him for getting hurt enough Owens pulled rank and had him dropped off at home and assigned someone to be the Party's chauffer for the rest of the day. It sucks that all the kids have their own plans tonight, leaving him to try and find ways to keep himself distracted without their usual insanity. A lot of things just kind of suck these days.

He feels himself smiling and picks up the walkie to confirm that he was alive and resting like ordered when he hears Dustin bickering with Robin about invading his apartment to check on him. That doesn't suck he supposes. He knows Robin and the kids care and he knows that eventually the soldier tasked with driving his hellions around is going to be bullied into driving them to see him, other plans be damned and the thought makes him smile.

The smile drops when he hears what sounds like a soft knock at his door. It's too sharp to be Widow Bea two doors over who leans on her walker and kicks the bottom of his door with her soft leather slippers that belonged to her late husband when she needs him to fix a cabinet or mix batter for whatever pastry she was making that week. And it's not the distinct pattern of Clara Damon from down the hall who will come and tap at his door to ask if he has an extra cup of sugar or spoonful of flour as she bats her eyes at him simpering about how she's making cookies or a pie or a casserole of some kind and inviting him to dinner with her and her folks to have some. He's always got an empty pantry and a surplus of plans when Clara Damon comes knocking. He and Widow Bea have standing poker nights with the other older ladies who all meet at the recreation building.

(It used to be the Harrington house. But his parents decided to sell to prove a point when they up and kicked him out and Owens needed a place to set up a promised recreation space and the gym was already a relief supplies warehouse.)

But the knock at his door isn't either of those. It could be someone else in the building. Could be one of his neighbors who have started to associate Steve Harrington with fighting mutated wild dogs caused by government experiments gone wrong and hauling around kids who seemed to cheat death and holding I.O.Us signed by the U.S army instead of the absent Harrington socialites who are known for swanning into town, flaunting their wealth and making themselves scarce again. The ones who he can sometimes hear whispering about him as he makes his way down the street or through Melvald's.

The knocking comes again, louder this time and firmer. It could be a lot of things and he doesn't want to deal with any of them.

Steve sighs, it could be important. He gets up to answer the door, breathing slow and shallow and letting himself lean on walls as he makes his way to the door. A third round of knocking and he's starting to get tired of it. He takes a slightly painful breathe to call out to whoever is trying to knock down his door to calm themselves down when, "Hey kid, Harrington, you in there?" That stops him a foot from his door.

His ribs hurt and his nose is sore and his leg is throbbing where a demodog got a lucky swipe on the meat of his thigh. But nothing is broken. His leg will be fine in a day or two. He hates that he knows what broken feels like. He hates that he knows what infected feels like. He hates that he knows the stone in his stomach and the clenching vice around his lungs has nothing to do with his injuries. His ribs scream at him when he pulls himself as tall and straight backed as he can, shifting himself so his weight is on his good leg and he can (hopefully) use the hallway wall and doorframe to support himself long enough to talk to Hopper and send him on his way.

He opens the door with a smile and feels himself falter a little when he sees Hopper standing there in a big tan canvas jacket and baseball cap and he's reminded of the times the older man would show up on his parent's doorstep with the same look on his face asking questions Steve didn't always know how to answer.

"Hey, Hopper." His voice is light and smile wide and loose and he just needs to keep this up. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"Heard you got a bit banged up on a patrol?"

Steve shrugs. It takes more than he'd like to hide the pain that causes. "Just a couple bumps and bruises, nothing I can't walk off after a decent night's sleep. Owens is just paranoid these days, ya know."

"Owens huh?"

"Uh, yeah? That's who told you right? Cause I took a couple hits?" Hopper doesn't say anything, just looks at him with something that Steve might have once thought was concern about his potential injuries. He doesn't know why today of all days Hop decided to show up cause he got knocked around a little more than planned but it doesn't bode well when something in his face shifts and he lets out a tired sigh. "Oh, but don't worry!" That came out louder than he intended. "I'm totally fine. Like I said, I just need to walk it off and I'll be back out there in no time. You don't gotta worry about a thing, I've got it handled. Like I said, Owens is just overreacting. Nancy can cover for me tomorrow and then I'll be right back on the roster I promise. You and Mrs. Byers don't have to worry about a thi-"

"Steve. Shut up." He feels his jaw snap shut, the edge of his tongue and inside of his cheek getting caught in his teeth. "I didn't hear it from Owens. The kids told me. Owens knows you're hurt?"

"Uh, ye-yes sir. He's the one who sent me home. Gave the kids a detail to transport them and keep them protected while I'm out of commision. One officer to drive them around and they're being tailed by at least 3 others in case anything happens."

"Four soldiers just to replace you?"

"Oh they're not in that much danger! I'm perfectly capable of watching them usually, its just that Owen's guys are still kinda green even this deep in. Most of them just can't wrap their heads around the whole 'other dimension stuck in 1983' side of things." Hop's eyebrows shoot up under the bill of his cap. "But again, it's fine! I always take point whenever we go into a new sector and those guys are good as backup at least."

"But you're hurt." His eyebrows have come back down but now they're furrowed like he's confused or upset.

"Just a little!" He is not making things better. "I swear Hopper, you guys don't have to worry about a thing. I've got it handled, you don't have to-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Harrington! Just shut up!" Steve flinches back, stepping further into his doorway as Hopper yells. The older man sighs, a big hand coming up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. He tries not to think of the times Robin and the kids have made fun of him for doing the same, calling it one of his 'dad poses'. "Look, I didn't come to try and give you shit about getting knocked around a little being stupid and playing soldier. I came to- I was going to ask." He sighs and his shoulders slump a little forward and his eyes are focused on the toes of Steve's (very comfortable) bat slippers that had been a gift from Wayne once the kids had told him Steve had been the one to drag Eddie out of the Upside Down. "Did you want to come over for dinner?"

Steve doesn't think he heard him right. "What?"

"Joyce is making some sort of spaghetti casserole-"

"Isn't that just baked spaghetti?"

"And we wanted to have you over. We haven't talked much since I came back. I'd like to change that."

"What?"

"You, dinner, at our place? With me and Joyce and the kids? I think Jonathan is bringing Nancy." Steve flinches and Hop silently curses himself bringing up the ex who cheated on him and the guy she cheated with.

"Why?"

"Uuh... Talking?"

Ah, he had it now. "What did the kids do? Just, lay it on me man, and I'll take care of it. Did they say something? I can have them over tomorrow and talk to them. Was it Mike, it was probably Mike, I'll get him to apologize, just-"

"Goddamn it Harrington I just wanted to ask you over for some dumbass spaghetti casserole thing and a decent conversation. Maybe watch a football game cause no one else in that house seems to enjoy a good game."

Steve isn't sure what's happening. "You want me to come to dinner. To talk?"

Hop sighs again. "Yes, kid. Just. Dinner and talking."

"Uh huh. Right. I'm just- I just need a minute." He tries not to slam the door in the man's face but he's definitely trying to be as fast as possible. He's not sure what the hell is going on but it has to be something because Hopper wouldn't just invite him over. And Joyce Byers definitely wouldn't want him in her house for something as simple as a talk and to watch football. It takes him longer than he'd like to reach the walkie on the little side table by his grandmother's rocking chair. His ribs are screaming at him and his elbow smarts from banging it on the corner as he turned into the sitting room.

"I need some sort of backup at my apartment. Like now please?!" He waits a second before pressing the speaker button again, "Over."

The walkie crackles and he hears an assortment of concerned chatter. "Steve?" Dustin's voice breaks through the general din. "What's the problem? Over."

"I- I'm not sure how to classify it? I've Got Hop at my front door but I think there's something wrong with him? Or something is trying to trick me it's him? Oh shit did I get Vecna'd??"

"Steve," Nancy snaps, shutting up most of the chatter and giving his rising panic something to focus on. "Why do you think it's not Hopper? Or that he's not in control of himself?"

"He- He invited me to the cottage for dinner?"

"What?"

"Yeah just dinner and talking? And that- that's weird right?"

Nancy sighs and Steve hears Hop say something from outside his apartment. He's running out of time. "Why is that so weird Steve?"

"Cause he doesn't like me. And Joyce really doesn't like me." He feels like that's obvious. "They don't like me and they're busy with other stuff. They wouldn't willingly ask me over for dinner and football or some shit so something has to be up."

"Seriously kid?"

He doesn't scream as he drops the walkie-talkie, spinning around to face the voice behind him.

"You're calling an emergency cause I invited you to dinner?"

Again, he feels like this is obvious. "Yes. I don't know what happened but we're going to fix it Hop, I promise. Or, like, if you're something controlling Hop or wearing his face or some shit I will figure it out and I will find the most painful way to kill you."

Hop runs a hand down his face again, he's going to have so many wrinkles after this. "Fucking Christ, kid. Is it so crazy that we wanted to try and get to know you? Make sure you're fed and taking care of yourself since apparently Owens isn't making sure you're alright?!"

What the fuck?

"Yes!" That seems to make Hop take a step back. "I tried for years to try and get the slightest acknowledgement from you! I've spent the last year taking care of the kids and monitoring the gates and fighting Powell and Owens every time they decide to try something stupid and almost get their men killed cause I realized you never meant it!" God he can hear his voice breaking and feel the tears starting to roll down his face. "You never meant it. But you meant it for El and Will and fuck, even Jonathan. And they deserved that. They needed you and you couldn't be there if you and Joyce were fighting with Owens and-" He can't hold back the sob that rips out from deep in his chest. "And I don't- I can't- I just-"

"Hey, hey kid. I need you to breath for me. Okay? Can you just let it out in one push and take a deep breathe in."

There's a large, warm hand rubbing up and down his back. His running nose is throbbing, his sore ribs are probably cracked now from how tightly he's folded in on himself and his injured leg feels wet like he pulled the stitches when he dropped to his knees on the threadbare rug. There's a deep rumbling voice talking to him, telling him how to breathe and asking him to sit up, let go of the walkie he can hear crackling as people call his name and ask Hopper what's going on. It's all just too much.

Why?

"What was that, kid?" Oh. He didn't mean to say that out loud.

"Why?"

"I fucked up. I'm trying this thing called owning up to my mistakes." Steve lets out a wet laugh that turns into a pained groan when it shakes his ribs. "Come on, let's get you up here." He tries not to cry out when Hop lifts him up from under his armpits, pulling at his ribs, but he knows he lets out a sharp whimper. "You fuck up your ribs?"

"What do you think?"

"Yeah, dumb question." Hop chuckles self-deprecatingly. "Look, let's get your ribs wrapped and we'll get you down to the hospital to get checked out an-"

"No. No hospital. Can't do 'em."

"Kid you need to get looked at and maybe some pain meds and antibiotics while you heal up."

"No fucking drugs." Steve practically growls, his teeth clenched and eyes burning as he stares up at Hop. "I'll take your fucking antibiotics but I can take a couple of ibuprofen and call it a day."

"A couple of- What the fuck, kid? You can barely walk and you're telling me you're not in serious pain?"

"I've had worse."

"Bullshit." The kid winces and the look on his face closes off. "Stop trying to be a hero and just admit you need help." Steve rolls his eyes.

"I'm fine, Hop. I've walked off worse."

"Again, I call bullshit."

"You know how thorough our Russian friends could be."

"What?"

Steve shrugs, an angry grimace on his face. "Once you live through Russian military questioning and hiking through Upside Down Hawkins, most everything after that's a piece of cake."

"Jesus Christ-"

"I don't think saying his name is gonna make him listen to ya now."

"Ya ain't cute, kid."

Steve gives him the same smile he always did whenever Hop crashed one of his 'King Steve' parties. "I'm adorable." He chuckles at himself and Hop finds himself laughing along at the kid's attitude. "What do you want, Hopper?" Steve's voice is quiet. It wavers in a way that tells him the kid is sad and hesitant and tired and Hopper can feel something niggling at the back of his mind. "You come over out of the blue asking me to dinner with your family like that's something we do. What the fuck man? What are you trying to do?"

"Like I said kid: I realized fucked up. Bad. And I'm trying to fix it."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. Yeah it is."

Steve leans back, the rocking chair leaning farther back than Hop feels comfortable with considering the kid's injuries but he manages to not rock back so far he falls. "Alright then. So what do you need?"

Hop can't follow this kid at all and he's not sure when that happened. If it's always been like that. "What are you talking about kid? You're the one that's all beat up." His mind goes back to swollen eyes and bruised knuckles covered in a rainbow of haphazardly placed bandages being fussed over by a group of dirty but uninjured kids. Bloody sailor uniforms rounding up rowdy kids without a mark on them despite obvious injuries and a slight limp and what might be bruised ribs. Bandages being removed to expose red raised around a strong neck that looks like someone took barbed wire to it and bulky bandages poking out from beneath stolen shirts. "What are you talking about what I need?"

Steve lolls his head to look at Hopper. For the first time all evening his eyes are trained on the older man unflinching and not anxiously darting away. His smile is more a resigned grimace. "What do you need to get Robin -and I'm guessing the kids- off your back?"

"It's not just because of them."

"But it is because of them."

"I want to make this right."

"It's not yours to fix, Hop. I've made peace with that. Thought I'd made that clear to the rest of them."

"I thought the kids didn't know."

"Not about you being my emergency contact and like, in charge of making big medical decisions if they couldn't get a hold of my parents. But that you'd stop by the house to make sure I hadn't like drowned washing my hair after I took a beating. That I put more stock in that than I should have."

"You were right to put stock in that stuff Steve. Fuck, if I knew anyone else in that situation I'd assume they'd basically adopted you. It makes sense."

Steve shrugs, wincing less this time. "That's life, can't fix it now."

"Will you let me try?"

"I mean. I'm giving you a get-out-of-jail-free card here man."

"And I'm not taking it."

"Well. It's there, whenever you decide to take it."

"Thanks but no thanks, kid."

"Hey, your choice Hop. Ever get tired of the boardwalk just say the word and it's yours. Do not pass 'Go!'. Do not collect $200."

"Monopoly, really?"

"My head may have gotten a knock too. Not a concussion but I'm a little... swimmy."

"Swimmy?"

"Uhm-hmm"

Hop chuckles, "You're an odd duck, kid, you know that? An odd, pain in my ass, duck."

Steve feels his face splitting in a wide smile that pulls at a small cut on his lip and lets his head fall back, his body finally starting to come down from the adrenaline rush that has been this entire interaction.

"Quack quack."

Tag list (I think this is everyone?)(If you see this post and your tag didn't work let me know cause they don't always work for me Idk why):

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth @dead-cherry-bitch @irethsune @ink777 @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner @ledleaf @pansexuality-activated @paintsplatteredandimperfect @kinryuuki @yikes-a-bee @altocumulustranslucidus @ohimamarigold @samsoble @sensationalsunburst @xxbottlecapx @y4r3luv @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @rootbeerandmusic @vinteraltus @wonderland-girl143-blog @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @steddie-as-they-go @steveshairspray86 @youdrewstarsxaroundmyscars @i-amthepizzaman @wormapothacary @croatoan-like-its-hot @maya-custodios-dionach @ineffable-monster-romancer @asquareinverona @ellietheasexylibrarian @pukner @bookworm0690 @nightmareglitter @joekeerysmoles @salchica @lawrencebshoggoth @iheartjennaaa @child-of-cthulhu @anaibis @rocochen20 @katdeerly @samcoxramblings @fiore-della-valle

[colonoscopys]

if you could designate a pastry to each member of the 118 what would they be

this is literally the most exciting thing to happen to me all week. thank you so much for asking me this sorry i took it so seriously

chimney: almond croissant. the almond croissants EYE always get are usually the length of a my hand, but are Good As Fuck. Incredible filling. Just the right taste of almond and cream, which means the crunch and the sweetness are balanced Tastefully. Exactly like my man.

hen: pistachio puff. Pistachio and Almonds are brothers in arms for best nut. Savory and sweet. Balanced with an incredible puff pastry, and one of THEE most delicious pastries that are enjoyed by a tasteful few. the insides are always airy but sweet and when you put it flat against the roof of your mouth its so fucking good. this is me making a sexual joke

bobby: pate a choux. now TECHNICALLY pate a choux isn't like a 'pastry', its like the puff used to make the pastry, but that just means some incredible puff pastries are cut from this cloth (like bobby). pate a choux are a little more temperamental to make because you have to use steam to make it rise instead of like an activating agent, but made correctly it's tough to crack and very important. (other contenders for bobby included a palmier, pan au chocolate, or a macaroon).

buck: cream puff. need i say more. some cream puffs are made with a pate a choux. easy to eat in one bite. need to handle carefully otherwise they'll ooze all over the place. and. of course. filled with [GUNSHOT]

eddie: okay. i'm sorry. i'm taking artistic liberties with this one. there's an indian sweet called a laddu, which technically isn't a pastry, but it's sweet and made with like. some sort of flour. i'm sure. this is more contextual but grandmothers usually squeeze their grandchildrens cheeks and go 'MY LADDU.'. and that's all i need to say

ravi: cake rusk another technicality. some people may assume that the cake rusk is a little too dense, and not the best breakfast option. incorrect. you need to eat with some chai (good storylines) and it proves to be the best breakfast option in the world.

[imyourbratzdoll]

hii bunny i hope your doing good and make sure to eat and drink💕 i was wondering if you could write like a fluff of baking cookies with (whatever character) and i feel like it would be so cute btw i love you’re fics and make sure you take care of yourself 💝💝

hi honey, thank you! I hope you do the same.

summary - you spend the day with your husband baking biscuits.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips (deactivated)

“Honey.” Ari walks in, holding bags full of ingredients as you set up the kitchen and ensure everything is clean. You turn and smile, helping your husband with the bags, immediately pulling out the stuff you need and setting everything up neatly. “I missed you too, honey.”

You giggle, shaking your head and you hug him. “I’m sorry, I missed you, I was just focusing more on these because I really want to eat them.” You give him a soft smile before turning back. Ari’s arms snake around you, holding you close to him as you begin to pour the ingredients into a bowl. “I thought you said you’d help.” You smile, squinting your eyes. 

Ari leans down, placing a kiss on your head before nuzzling his face into your neck. “I am, I’m supervising.” He grins, feeling you squirm as his beard tickles you. “Gotta make sure my little girl doesn’t hurt herself.” You huff, flicking flour onto his face, giggling as it lands on his nose. “Hey!”

He reaches forward, sticking his finger into the bowl and wiping the flour onto your cheek. You turn, looking at him shocked. “That is not how you bake biscuits!” Ari smirks, pulling you closer to him, grabbing the flour bag and tipping some of it on you. 

“You started it, honey. I’m just finishing it.” You pout, batting your lashes up at him innocently. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You smile, reaching behind you and grabbing an egg before leaning against him, resting your hand on his chest, distracting him enough to crack the egg over his head. “Oops.” 

Ari glares playfully, resting his hands on your waist before he begins to tickle you. “Ahh, no! Stop!!” You laugh, trying to wiggle away from him. 

“Nope, you’re a naughty little girl!” He grins, finally stopping and grabbing your cheeks, he leans forward and places a kiss on your lips. “Now, how bout we make these biscuits, and while we wait we can watch that movie you’ve been dying to see.” 

You nod, returning the kiss and enjoying the time you and Ari spend baking the biscuits. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[jackwolfes]

this is definitely not very original but!!!! I would love a modern au with best friends/roommates to lovers with some jealous jesper (I feel like we always see jealous wy but jealous jesper is so fun!!) t4t or one of them being trans? you decide! and maybe sex when they get together but not necessary:)

wrote the first part to this prompt ages ago and figured I may as well share it!

The rain on the kitchen window starts slowly. Tap. Tap. Tap. It's not cold, exactly. The heating is on, at least. Their attic apartment is draughty, though.

Wylan shifts. His cardigan is drawn close over his otherwise bare chest, arms crossed in front of himself. Still, sitting on a stool beside their bar top counter, he doesn't feel even remotely well covered enough. Across the kitchen, Jesper isn't looking at him. He's cooking breakfast for the two of them.

“You know it's, uh.” Jesper stops. Clears his throat. “We’ve all done it.”

A quiet huff from Wylan. “In this kitchen?” Jesper tips his head, then shrugs. Wylan wrinkles up his nose. “Do I want to know where?”

Jesper looks over his corner, smiles at his roommate. “It’s a good counter for it.”

Wylan's face starts to heat, and shows no sign of stopping. He finds himself staring at the only real free stretch of counter they have — where Jesper had just been cracking eggs into flour to make a batter — where Wylan had just been bent over with his face pressed into the linoleum with a gruff Ravkan sailor he'll never see again fucking him from behind at seven in the morning — where Jesper saw them.

Oh, Ghezen.

The memory is crystalline in Wylan's head. Weather-worn hands roughened from working on rope clinging tight to his slim hips, having just pushed him down over the kitchen counter — and Wylan really hadn’t meant to have another round but he’d woken up when last night’s bedfellow rose and offered coffee and… well. It all just happened, standing waiting for the pot to brew in the low dawn light, wearing nothing but a cardigan and boxers that ended up thrown across the tile floor. Wylan hadn’t minded. He’d been the one to dash back to his bedroom to grab lube and a condom.

He just hadn’t expected his roommate to come back home while it was happening.

The rain is getting louder against the window glass behind him. He hasn’t touched his coffee. An hour has passed and his legs are still shaking. Ghezen, that sailor — what was his name? Wylan can’t actually remember anymore. Just the way his grip had left bruises that still linger on the thin jut of Wylan’s hip bones. He made Wylan scream this morning like he made him scream last night, and ducked his head low to growl praise in Wylan’s ear as they raced towards the finish line. And then — Saints — he’d called Wylan a pretty boy and made him come on the side of his cupboard at the very same time the door to the kitchen opened.

With a sizable clatter Wylan is presented a plate of pancakes, jerked unceremoniously free from his memories.

“I can tell you’re still thinking about it,” Jesper says.

Wylan glares at his roommate. “Can we not discuss this right now?”

The sound of Jesper’s laughter resounds in Wylan’s head, smug and irritating. How he’s moved on so easily from his earlier awkwardness is anyone’s guess (although Wylan supposes he has the benefit of not having been walked in on while he was coming). With his own plate of pancakes on a plate beside Wylan’s, Jesper pushes himself to sit atop the counter like nothing untoward happened there. Wylan forces himself not to think too much about it, focusing on his pancakes. Jesper put chocolate chips in them, probably because he knows they’re Wylan’s favourite. The only sound in the room is the dull rhythmic thud of Jesper’s feet kicking the cupboards as he fidgets. The wood is clean now. Wylan thinks he'd die if it had stained.

“I’m just saying that there’s no judgement in consensual sex.”

The fires flaming on Wylan’s face burn ever brighter. “Jesper.”

“He was hot! If you go for the rugged types, I guess.”

Wylan exhales sharply through his nose. “If you’d like to chase after him I’m sure he’s still somewhere in Ketterdam.”

Jesper clicks his tongue. “Not my type, really. I tend to go for pretty boys, you know?”

Wylan freezes, fork halfway to his mouth. Jesper has similarly gone still. There is absolutely no question that both of them are sitting here — not that close but close enough to feel too close, suddenly — and remembering the way Wylan’s one-night stand held him against the counter and called him just that. Pretty boy. Gruff enough to make Wylan see stars and loud enough for Jesper to hear as he walked in on Wylan coming hard over calloused fingers. It isn’t storming quite yet, but the rain still feels thunderous against the glass windows beside them.

As soon as Jesper opens his mouth Wylan shoots to his feet, letting his fork fall to the table with a clatter. If there is one thing he knows it is that Jesper will say something too— too— too Jesper-y. It will break Wylan, whatever it is, either out of complete mortification or because it’ll break his heart. He can’t cope with that, not today. Not now. He’s barely had any sleep.

He sends Jesper a clumsy, half-hearted smile, watching him wipe shock or disappointment off his face too quickly to be anything other than very well-practised.

“I’m tired,” Wylan says. His voice sounds weak to his own ears, and he prays that Jesper doesn’t comment on why exactly he will be, although they’re both thinking it. Wylan’s knees wobble. “Thanks for the pancakes.”

Then — because, at the end of the day, Wylan Van Eck is nothing more than a filthy coward — he picks up his plate and disappears into the hall, heading back to his bedroom where he can be alone.

His door shuts behind him with a click, and it takes all the effort he has going spare not to collapse backwards against it and sink to the floor. Instead he makes his way across the tiny amount of floorspace his bedroom has, sets his pancakes down on his nightstand, and climbs back into bed. He wasn’t lying when he said he was tired, and he’s a little bit sore, too. Not that he wanted to admit that to Jesper.

Wylan burrows into bed sheets that still smell like sweat and sea air, but cannot take his thoughts away from wondering if Jesper is still thinking about what he saw.

[homunculus-argument]

In finnish, there's an expression for having something in such overwhelming abundance that it wouldn't feel like wasting it if you were actively throwing it out - "olla [---] vaikka lehmät söis", so directly "enough of [the thing] to still have it even if the cows were eating it", and more precise-to-the-meaning "enough that you might as well be feeding it to the cows".

This is because Finland - in the summertime - exists in an overwhelming abundance of random types of plants. There's meadows and fields, forests, swamps, bushes, wherever you look during growth season, there's a plant growing somewhere out of it. Out of the cracks in the sidewalk. There's no desert areas in Finland, really, not naturally. Everything that isn't a body of water is covered with plants. There's plenty enough that the cows might as well be eating them.

And that's why traditional finnish recipes have so much different types of dairy in them. Butter, sourcream, cream, butter, cheese, buttermilk, a different kind of sourcream, a different type of buttermilk, a third type of cheese. Everything that isn't foraged from the forests is something made out of flour and milk. Like 90% of the finnish cuisine is people looking at their cows and going "what the fuck are we going to do with all this milk."

[mialikeshockey]

Flour Battle - Trevor Zegras

(credit to gif maker)

One of Trevor and I's favorite thing for a date night is, baking. Even though Trevor isn't very good at it, he still tries to help which is very cute, sometimes annoying. He loves to mess around, he either eats the raw ingredients or just dances around the kitchen listening to Taylor Swift and not letting me bake. So sometimes I have no other choice but to send him off to watch tv while I finish. Which leads us to, tonight. Another date, bake night.

I start getting the oven preheated while Trevor starts getting out everything we need to make sugar cookies. It's a simple recipe but it's one of our favorites, being the first cookies we made together on our first hang out. I walk over to Trevor, who's sitting on the counter reading the back of the flour.

"Scared I'm trying to poison you or something? I question him, he looks up and smiles. "No, I'm just reading this while you start so I can help." He giggles while saying his last couple words. "Yeah yeah." I start putting the correct amount of flour in the bowl and then I have Trevor melt some butter and get the eggs cracked. While he does that, I put sugar in the bowl.

I start finishing putting everything together and Trevor gets really quiet, nervous that he's messing with things and making a mess i turn around to see him holding his hand up to his mouth facing me.

"What do you have in your hand..?" I question him, confused. He just giggles, I look around to see what's around him that he got into. I see the flour open again. "Trevor Zegras, you better not." Trevor just laughs and blows the flour all over you.

"If this is in my hair, I swear I'm gonna hit you with a hockey stick." I grab the bag of flour and throw some at Trevor. He laughs and gets more, we continue to run around the kitchen trying to get each other back until the oven goes off.

"You're lucky i already had the dough ready or I wouldn't have been able to make the cookies you goober." Trevor starts cleaning up the flour, after you put the cookies in the oven, you do the same. "This is gonna be a fun mess to clean up." Trevor states staring around the kitchen with flour everywhere. "You started it, so I think you should clean it up. Since you know, I made the cookies."

Trevor shakes his head no, "Nope, you fought back. You're helping." I sigh and grab a towel to help clean up the floor and counters.

By the time we are done cleaning, the oven goes off. The smell of fresh baked cookies fills the air. "Cant wait to get my hands on some of those." Trevor wiggles his fingers while jokingly putting them in my face. "I will actually hit you with this hot pan." I joke back.

While we let the cookies cool, we both took turns taking a shower and checking on the cookies. We got changed into fresh clothes and then got some cookies on a plate.

We sit down on the couch and turn on Mighty Ducks, we eat our cookies and watch the movie. Trevor falls asleep mid movie like he normally does, I slowly push him off of me so I can go clean up from the cookies. I put the rest of the cookies in a container and put them up and then wash the dishes that we used.

I tap Trevor until he wakes up, "Come on sleepyhead, let's get you to bed." Trevor just sighs and gets up. I turn the tv off and follow him to the room.

He lays in bed and covers up and goes right back to sleep. I turn over and sit up and start drawing away in my book. I wonder what our next baking adventure will be.

——————————————————————————

I wrote this last night but I needed to post something because I’m so mad my fat dog ate my AirPods 😭

my friend kinda requested this so yeah

@hrts4edwards

[kazzy-boo-baby]

•Making Cookies.. at Night?"•

CG! Natasha Romanoff

CG! Wanda Maximoff

Little! Y/N (She/Her)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Y/N had a plan. A plan that would make her mommy and mama so happy, that'd she get so many kisses once they saw the surprise! She was going to make cookies for Natasha and Wanda all by herself!

She waited all night for Natasha and Wanda to go to bed, and now it was finally time to put the plan in full motion. Y/N crawled out of her bed and started to make her way to the kitchen, making sure to be quiet so JARVIS didn't alert her caregivers.

Once in the kitchen, Y/N was getting out all the stuff she would need. Some flour, chocolate chips, oil, milk, eggs, sugar, and salt. She remembered all the things she would need when Wanda baked cookies.. how hard could it really be to do it by herself?

"Okay.. first, hafta get bowl."

She mumbled to herself, she opened the cabinet door and huffed at the sight before her. The only clean bowl was on the top of the shelf.. dang it! "Ugh.. now hafta use something else." Y/N pouted and tried to think of something else she could use as a bowl, eventually she thought of one of her toy buckets! That could work.

She went into the living room and emptied out her toy bucket, then placed it on the kitchen counter. Now she could officially start! Y/N started off with pouring the flour into the bucket, causing it to fly up everywhere all over her face and onesie. She giggled, "Okay! Next is sugar."

Y/N got out the sugar and started to pour it info the bucket, not bothering to do any measurements or stopping at the sight of almost half the sugar bag pouring into her bucket. "Perfect!" She babbled, clapping her hands.. baking was so easy!

She got out the milk and started to pour it in the bucket, she spilt a little bit on the floor, but managed to get most of it in the bucket. Then came the egg! She grabbed one of the eggs from the carton and cracked it, but a few shells got in there. "Uh oh.." she mumbled, she pouted and thought about what she could do. Then an idea hit her,

"It okay! Mommy and mama won't notice if I put lots of chocolate chips."

She smiled and started pouring the whole bag of chocolate chips on the bucket.

"Y/N? Honey? What are you doing..?"

A voice startled Y/N, she looked over to see it was Wanda. She didn't look mad.. just concerned. "You're supposed to be in bed."

Y/N whined and pouted up at Wanda, "Mama! You not supposed to be awake.. I was making you and mommy a surprise.."

She mumbled. Wanda smiled and walked closer to her, she was starting realize what Y/N was doing. Despite the huge mess on the floor and table, Wanda knew that the ingredients Y/N were using were for cookies.

"Aww.. that's very sweet of you, my love."

Wanda picked Y/N up and started to take her to the bedroom again, "Mama didn't mean to spoil your surprise. But how about me, you, and mommy bake some cookies together tomorrow. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Y/N sighed but nodded, just nuzzling closer to Wanda as she held her. She was feeling tired anyway. "Okay mama.."

Wanda brought Y/N into her and Natasha's shared bedroom, Natasha was already wide awake. She chuckled as Wanda placed Y/N on the bed, "Oh look who it is? Little Miss trouble maker got out of bed, huh?"

"No, no. She was doing something nice. She was trying to make cookies for us. Isn't that sweet?"

Natasha sighed and snuggled close to Y/N,

"Oh really? That's what you were doing? Oh baby.. you know we would've helped you. You don't need to do everything by yourself, honey."

Y/N yawned and just nodded her head, she was feeling very sleepy. Her eyes were doing their best not to close.

Wanda sighed and kissed her forehead, "See? You're so sleepy, my love.."

Natasha nodded and laid Y/N down between the two of them, Y/N was practically already asleep. The two redheads laid beside their little girl, excited about making cookies tomorrow. Eventually, they both fell asleep next to Y/N.. all of them getting a good nights sleep like they deserved.