#considered making mozzarella for this

[roses-red-and-pink]

Poutine because cheese can fix any heartbreak

[torpublishinggroup]

"5 Tips for Dating a Werewolf" by TJ Klune

1. If a werewolf has locked onto your scent, it is best to let them get as much of it as they can. If they are in shifted form, it might mean a wet nose to your face or a tongue in your hair. Fear not! They are, in a way, like a large dog, if a large dog were capable of human wants and whims. If you find yourself in such a position, do not move! Let the werewolf finish its scent-marking. It could take anywhere from five minutes to six days, so get comfortable!

2. Should you find yourself in possession of a dead animal left upon your doorstep, don’t scream and/or vomit! Chances are, it is from the same werewolf who sniffed you, wanting to make sure you are provided for. This is how a lycanthrope expresses interest. Be careful not to offend the wolf, as they might be watching from behind a tree or a bush. If you are averse to blood and gore, pretend someone dropped a cherry pie filled with bones on your porch.

(On the off chance that the dead animal was left by a cult and not a werewolf, please be prepared in case you are marked for a ritual sacrifice.)

3. Going on a date with a werewolf can be a fun event! Given that you might be in public, it would be best not to ask your werewolf suitor to “shift in the middle of an Applebee’s just to see if it scares the server into giving free appetizers.” While many people enjoy mozzarella sticks (especially when given under threat of fangs), using your werewolf in such a way to get fried cheese is considered bad form. Your werewolf has feelings, and no one likes to be used.

(If your werewolf does shift to get you cheese, reward them by telling them you think they are the greatest creature in existence. Positive reinforcement goes a long way!)

4. Uh oh. Your werewolf has driven you home, arches a single, devastating eyebrow, and says, “Are you going to invite me inside?”

Remember, werewolves aren’t vampires, meaning they do not need permission to enter your residence. However, good wolves always wait for permission before entering a dwelling that is not their own.

In this case, given the arched eyebrow, the werewolf is hoping to be invited inside for “adult activities.” This might include rolling on the carpet or having sex in the kitchen and/or up against a wall. If you choose to do this, you might see the werewolf’s eyes flashing. Good news! This means the wolf is having a wonderful time.

5. Your wolf stayed the night! How lucky are you? If you wake up the next morning with the shifter lying on top of you, it is very important that you do not move until they have decided to move on their own. Waking up a sleeping wolf can sometimes be difficult work, but if you keep a squeaky ball next to your bed, now is the time to put it to good use. Squeeze it near the wolf’s ear and ask, “Who’s a good boy? Who wants to play with the ball? Is it you? Is it you?” Your wolf will most likely glower at you and threaten your life, but if you squeeze the ball three times, the wolf will be distracted. Throw it to the floor, and as the wolf chases after it, consider making waffles! Werewolves love waffles.

(God help you if you make pancakes. You have been warned.)

If you have survived these first five steps, you are to be commended! That means you most likely will have a werewolf for the rest of your life. A werewolf is a commitment. Adopt, don’t shop!

[bluelockmaniac]

itoshi rin giving you the last bite of his food. <3 wc; 676

watching rin's pretty face as he chewed on his cheesy potato pancakes wasn't something you had expected to do today, but it also wasn't your fault that rin could make something as simple as eating so tempting. the way the stuffed mozzarella stretched from between your boyfriend's lips and the delicacy had you salivating— you wished you hadn't declined his considerate offer an hour ago, when he called you on the phone and asked if you wanted him to get you something to eat. you were full when he called, so now you couldn't help but watch him with a ravenous gaze and a watering mouth as he eats bite after bite, the colours on the television screen bouncing off his face. "you're drooling," rin pointed out as he once again turns his attention towards you, "i've asked you seven times already, but are you absolutely sure that you don't want a bite?" "y-yes rin, i'm one hundred percent certain!" you laugh awkwardly, wiping your mouth with your sleeve as you notice how the number of cheesy potato pancakes on his plate seem to reduce every few minutes, much to your dismay. "hm..." he mumbles boredly, holding one savory with his fingers and pushing it against your stubbornly shut lips, "liar. open your mouth." you gently push his hand away, shaking your head, "i'm not hungry," you utter, although your firm eye contact with his plate betrays your statement, "i swear." "whatever." he sighs, focusing on the football match on the screen as he enjoys yet another bite. the fact that he could read you like an open book was irritating, but to be fair, your expressions wouldn't make it difficult for anyone to guess that maybe, just maybe, you were hungry. you had no idea why you persisted on being so stubborn when rin had generously offered you his food multiple times— perhaps it was the guilt of taking away the food he bought for himself despite him asking you if you craved for anything that got you so adamant— but either way, you were now eyeing the last crispy, golden coloured piece on his plate. "actually—" you blurted out, shifting on the couch until you were finally beside him. your nails harmlessly dug into his forearm as he looks at you knowingly, a subtle smile forming on his lips. "can i... have one, please?" "it's my last one," he mutters with feigned pettiness as he hands you the last potato pancake with no hesitation, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and bringing you closer to him, "but only because you're so cute." "thanks!" you smile as you lean against him and begin stuffing your face with the crispy good, but unfortunately, much to your disappointment, you wiped off its existence in about a minute. "it was really good..." you say softly while looking down at the empty plate, trying to appreciate this cute situation of your boyfriend giving you his last bite, but seriously, it only aroused your appetite. rin rolls his eyes and tilts your chin to face him, "don't look so upset," he deadpanned, licking the corner of your lips to remove the excess potato crumbs. "but i'm hungry—" "i know," he sighs, getting up and vanishing into the kitchen. he appears a few seconds later with a bag identical to the one for the cheesy potato pancakes, "...which is why i bought you some as well." "ohmigod!" you exclaim excitedly, quickly opening the styrofoam container and welcoming the exquisite aroma, "thank you, rinnie! i'm glad you bought one for me too." he pulls your face in for a quick kiss before squishing your cheeks lightly. "i ought to know by now, considering the amount of times you played this move on me." you softly giggle as you carelessly eat the food in front of you, "you know me so well." rin lays his head down on your lap and yawns softly, your clean hand quick to run its fingers through his hair. "i'd be a fool if i didn't."

comments appreciated <3

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (35/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Lets get drunk - with Nightmare Coladas.

Warnings: fluff, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.2k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: love you. feedback is appreciated!

You are sitting on the sun bed when Charles rejoins you. He is holding a tray in his hands and as he places it on the floor next to you, you see that it is filled with sliced fruit. In addition to a plate of watermelon, there is a bowl of grapes, strawberries and raspberries.

“A good foundation is essential if you want to get drunk,” he grins and lies down next to you on the sun bed, a healthy distance between you. 

You raise an eyebrow. "Wouldn't it be better to eat something greasy then? Like fries or pizza?” you ask, helping yourself to a strawberry. 

“That's just the beginning,” he defends himself and nibbles on a piece of watermelon. “There are fries, mozzarella sticks and chicken nuggets in the oven.”

You have to grin. “Sounds like lunch for a five-year-old.”

Charles shrugs and pops a raspberry in his mouth. “You'll be able to drink like a grown-up in no time.”

“Touché.” 

The two of you lie next to each other in silence, enjoying the last rays of sunshine while you eat the fruit and wait for the timer on Charles' cell phone to beep. The water splashes against the sides of the boat, the smell of the sea hits your nose and if you didn't know that tomorrow is Christmas, you'd think it was a beautiful summer evening. 

“What would you like to drink?” Charles asks. 

You turn your head in his direction. “Do you have any sweet white wine?”

He nods. “I had Thomas bring your cheap wine,” he grins. "He didn't find it at first. Apparently you can only get it in the supermarket and not in a wine store."

You purse your lips. “Hey. The wine tastes good,” you say with mock offence, trying to suppress the thought that Charles sent Thomas out to get your favorite wine. Very thoughtful. “What are you about to drink?”

"There are quite a few drinks. Maybe I'll make myself a cocktail,” he considers, popping a strawberry into his mouth. "Maybe a piña colada? Or a sex on the beach?"

The way the word 'sex' rolls off his tongue makes the blood in your veins run hot. You bite into a piece of watermelon. “When are the fries ready?”

Just as you've said it, Charles' phone rings. He gets up and leaves the sun bed. “I'll be right back.”

You turn to him. “Do you want me to help you?” You're almost on your feet when Charles waves you off. 

“ It's all right.” 

While he disappears into the interior of his yacht, you also leave the sun bed to grab your camera and laptop, but instead of lying back on the sun bed at the back of the boat, you move the party around the bow, where there is another sun bed. From here, you have a wonderful view of Monaco - even if it is still some distance away from you. 

You start to edit a photo of Charles when he rejoins you - fries, mozzarella sticks and chicken nuggets on a tray. 

“Here you are,” he smiles, setting the food down. “I thought you'd jumped in the water and swum home.”

"Are you crazy? I'm sure the sea is freezing cold,” you reply and put your laptop to one side so you can grab a nugget. “I've already started editing a picture of you, by the way.”

Your friend plops down on the sun bed next to you. "And?” he asks. “Do I look good?”

You roll your eyes. “You always do,” you reply jokingly, hoping that he can't hear the truth in your words. 

“I know,” he grins and pops a chip in his mouth. "But seriously. Do you think the pictures are any good? For my Instagram profile, I mean."

Charles is a natural model. With his big eyes, deep dimples and beaming smile, he could even advertise haemorrhoid cream and look great doing it.

“Absolutely,” you smile and push your camera over to him. “See for yourself.”

While Charles looks at the many pictures on the small display, you continue to edit some pictures on your laptop. They are all good - thanks to his looks - but somehow none of them reflect Charles as you see him. They look posed, which isn't a bad thing in itself, but you had hoped to capture him with your lens in such a way that you could almost feel the closeness to him and his warmth. 

But you don't tell him that, after all he has to decide for himself which pictures he would like to put on the internet. 

“What do you think of this?” he asks and shows you the display. In the photo, he is standing at the wheel, his sunglasses are perched on his nose and he is smiling broadly over his shoulder, as if someone has said something funny. It's a good picture - objectively speaking.

“It's good,” you reply and bite into a mozzarella stick. The cheese almost burns the roof of your mouth, but you try not to let it show. 

Charles raises his eyebrow. “Just ‘good’?” he asks, looking at the picture again. “Okay, I'll find another one then.”

You shake your head vehemently. "No, Charles. It's a good photo, really,” you assure him. 

He's not buying it. “But?”

You purse your lips and shrug your shoulders. “It - it looks so posed,” you answer honestly. "But maybe it only looks like that to me because I know it's fake, you know? Maybe I just can't see it."

He looks back from you to the display. “I know what you mean.” He presses his tongue into his cheek. "I'll take another one then. They're your photos. And I want you to feel comfortable with them too." 

You smile at him. You didn't know he cared so much about your opinion. "That's nice. Thank you."

Charles pops a French fry into his mouth. "Keep eating. Your wine is cold and just waiting for you to drink it."

You continue to eat in silence - Charles continues to rummage through your camera while you edit some pictures. The silence between you is comfortable and every now and then you smile at each other to reassure each other that everything is fine. 

When the last of the fries has been eaten, Charles stands up. "Very nice. Now it's time to start drinking,” he winks at you as he leaves the sun bed. “You want your wine, I guess?”

You nod. “Thomas shouldn't have made the trip to the supermarket for nothing,” you grin and cross your arms behind your head. You look at him. "But I think one glass is enough for now. Maybe I'd like to try one of your cocktails afterwards."

“Of course, Madame,” Charles replies and bows to you playfully like a servant to his queen. "Can I bring anything else? A pillow, perhaps?" 

You nod, beaming. “That would be great. Then the bed here will be even more comfortable."

Without another word, he disappears, the bowls and plates in his hands, while you close the laptop and put it to the side. You consider whether you should put the camera away too, but decide against it. Perhaps there would be another opportunity to take photos of Charles later.

A few minutes later, Charles reappears. He puts your wine glass down next to you and throws you two cushions. "Make yourself comfortable. I'm sure you'll want to stay here longer."

You look at him in confusion. “Why?”

With a nod of his head, he points to the shore. "When it gets dark - and I mean dark - Monaco lights up beautifully. And I don't want to deny you the sight,” he smiles. "I'm going to make myself a cocktail. Do you want me to bring you your sweater right away?"

“Yes, thank you,” you answer him. “And you really don't need any help?” you ask uncertainly. It's nice of him to go to all this trouble to make you feel comfortable, but you feel a bit like you're taking advantage of him. 

But Charles disagrees. "Stay put. You're my guest on this boat. I'll take care of everything while you lie there and look pretty." 

Before you can react to his words, he has disappeared again. 

Look pretty? Charles thinks you're pretty? 

You try to ignore his words, but they keep bubbling up. When he said he was afraid of losing you, he hit you hard. You would never let anything separate you again. You need him too much for that - and it seems he needs you too. Even if it's not the same way. But that's okay, you tell yourself. You'd rather have a piece of him than nothing at all. 

When he rejoins you, you seem to have almost forgotten his compliment. Or at least pushed it aside. 

“Here,” he says, handing you your sweater before setting some things down behind your head. There are several bottles, an ice bucket and a couple of shakers in the large basket. Then he carefully sits down next to you with his cocktail in hand. As he tastes it, he makes a brief grimace. 

You have to grin. “Too strong?” you ask him. 

“No,” he replies, but from the way he raises his eyebrows and turns his head away briefly, it's clear he's lying. 

“What did you mix?”

“Piña Colada.” He furrows his eyebrows. “But it tastes more like nightmare colada than pineapple.” He stretches out his arm and holds the glass out to you. “Have a taste.”

Without hesitation, you reach for the cocktail - still careful not to let your fingers touch - and sip the drink once. You look at him in amazement. “I don't know what your problem is,” you reply and take a big sip. “It tastes fantastic!”

Charles looks at you doubtfully. “Are you serious?”

“Definitely,” you confirm. “I'd offer you my wine, but you don't like sweet wine.”

“Give it to me,” he says unceremoniously and grabs the wine glass as you hold it out to him. Without hesitation, he puts the glass to his lips and drinks every last drop of the wine. "Sorry. I had to get rid of the horrible taste of that cocktail."

You look from the empty glass in his hand to his face in amazement. "Wow. So you think the piña colada is that bad. If you keep going like this, you'll be drunk in no time."

Charles reaches behind your head into the basket and pulls out a bottle of wine. “That was the plan, wasn't it?” Slowly and intently, he pours some of his dry wine into your glass, careful not to waste a single drop. “Don't tell me I did all of this  for nothing.” He points to the many shakers with a nod of his head. 

You curl your lips into a thin line. “Are you even allowed to drive the boat tomorrow if you still have alcohol in your blood?” you ask and take a sip of his - now your - cocktail, which, contrary to Charles' opinion, actually tastes phenomenal. 

“I don't know,” he replies and sips his wine. “But if need be, you and I can stay here another night.”

“Tomorrow is Christmas,” you remind him. "Your mom would be furious with us if we didn't show up for dinner. And then she'd kill us."

Your roommate shakes his head. "My mom loves you. She'd kill me without hesitation, but definitely not you." He leans back a little and rests his head in the pillow so that he's comfortable but still sitting upright enough to drink easily. 

“I think I'd stand up for you,” you say before taking another sip. 

The Monegasque looks at you, dumbfounded. “You think?”

The way he opens his eyes and looks at you, you can't help but burst out laughing. "Yeah. After all, I don't want to incur your mother's wrath. I like her far too much for that,” you say into your glass and look at him over the rim. 

Charles rolls his eyes. "You're being mean. I'll take you on my boat -"

“Yacht,” you correct him. 

"All right then. I take you on my yacht, where you can even spend the night, make you delicious food and offer you all the alcohol you can imagine - and you think you'd stand up for me?" Playfully hurt, he puts his hand on his chest. “Wow. I thought you'd care more about me.”

You do, you say in your mind. More than you'll ever know.

“Oh, come on.” You snuggle into your pillow too. "How many women have you taken here already, huh? Surely I'm not the only one you've spent a night with here." Realizing your choice of words, you clear your throat. “In a friendly or romantic way, I mean.” Even though you don't want to know the answer to how many women he's had here on the boat, curiosity wins out. 

Your roommate shrugs. “You're the only one,” he replies quietly before taking a sip of his wine. He avoids your gaze. 

Your head jerks in his direction. “Not even Annika?”

“Not even Annika,” he confirms to you. “I - I don't know - I took Annika out for a nice day at sea once, but we  went home at night. This is the first time I've been on a boat with someone other than my family and stayed the night."

His answer relieves you a little. Apparently you're not the next in a line of women Charles is spending the night with on his boat. And the fact that you're the only one, according to him, makes you feel a little happy. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” you start your sentence, “you're also the first person I spend the night with on a boat.” You smile at him. 

“It's not that difficult if you've never been on a boat before,” he replies with a grin. “And I thought it was a yacht?”

You roll your eyes. “Don't make me regret being on a boat on the open sea.”

As the wind sweeps around you and the sun disappears behind the horizon, you pull on your sweater. You feel Charles's gaze on you. “What?”

He shakes his head. "I thought the alcohol would warm you up a bit. But apparently you need to drink more."

You look into your cocktail glass. “I've almost finished your Nightmare Colada,” you defend yourself. 

"But only almost. Drink up, then I can pour you another one."

You raise your glass to your lips. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. Leclerc?”

“Maybe,” he grins and pulls a shaker out of the basket. "There's a little Nightmare Colada left, if you like. Otherwise there's still your wine, or Sex on the Beach, or schnapps."

You take the last sip of your cocktail and put the glass down for him to refill. Heat shoots into your face, which is almost certainly due to the alcohol - and definitely not the way he says the word 'sex'. "Your offer sounds tempting. I think I'll stick to the nightmare colada for now. We can always have the schnapps later."

Charles shakes the shaker briefly before carefully pouring the rest of the cocktail into your glass. “I haven't had a schnapps in ages.”

"Why? Is your nutritionist against it?” you ask him with a grin. 

“Yes, actually,” he replies and hands you your glass. "But I'm on vacation at the moment, so I don't really care. That's why I had the chicken nuggets."

You raise your eyebrow. “I thought the chicken nuggets were there so we wouldn't get drunk straight away?”

Your friend shakes his head. "Actually, you had chicken nuggets because, culinarily speaking, you stayed somewhere between canned soup and Big Mac. That's what Lando said anyway." 

The fact that he remembered that warms your heart. A little something you didn't think he would remember. 

"There's also dessert, by the way, if you're still a little hungry. Chocolate muffins,” he smiles. "But maybe we'll save them for later, when we're drunk. They'll taste even better then."

“Muffins?” you ask in surprise. When Charles nods, blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” His voice is soft and warm. He briefly puts his glass to one side and pulls on his white sweater. 

“Are you cold?” you joke, sipping your cocktail. 

“Haha.” He rolls his eyes and adjusts the bandana that is still tied around his head. “Even if the alcohol warms me on the inside, I can be cold on the outside.”

“But make me look stupid for it,” you retort playfully. 

"Sure. It's just pretty easy to drive you up the wall."

“What do you mean -” you start your question, but he jumps up from the sun bed as if stung by a tarantula. 

“There!” He goes to the railing in front of you and holds on tight. “I told you.”

You carefully put your glass to one side and stand up too. When you see what he means, your breath catches in your throat. 

Monaco shines in front of you in the dark and the water reflects the light beautifully. Charles hasn't promised too much. 

You stand next to him with your mouth open, your eyes fixed on the beautiful Monaco. “It is - breathtaking.”

“It is,” Charles replies quietly. You don't notice him looking at you. “Breathtaking.” He‘s almost ashamed at how beautiful you look to him. He has to look away.

The Monaco in front of you glistens and sparkles, captivating you so much that an idea occurs to you. With quick - and slightly swaying - steps, you walk back and grab your camera before standing on the sun bed. The cocktail has done a good job, because the cushion under your feet feels like jelly, so you need a moment to find your footing.

Charles is apparently just as fascinated by the view as you are, because he doesn't seem to notice that you've moved away from him. He continues to look ahead, towards his home, while you take a photo of him. A single photo - and when you look at it on your camera, you could cry. 

“That's it,” you smile. 

“Huh?” Charles turns to you questioningly. “What's what?”

You proudly hand him your camera. “This is the picture.” 

He looks at it briefly before glancing at you. A smile spreads across his face. “I knew it was a good idea to bring you here.” He looks like he wants to say something else, but he closes his mouth again before handing the camera back to you.

“Maybe you should hire me,” you joke, sending the picture to your phone and then sending it to him. 

“Maybe I should.” His smile is warm and electrifying and luminous. He's beaming - like the Monaco behind him. 

God, he's the most beautiful man in the world. 

“But first -” he walks around you, staggers across the sun bed and leans forward to fish a bottle out of the basket. “But first - comes the schnapps.”

[ask2012donnie]

im the chees e guy again. i didnt mean breed. i mean like brand? Flavor? My follow up question is 'what is the word for the cheese breeds

Hello there (again), Cheese Guy!

You had me wracking my brain for a moment there from your first question.

“Favorite breed of cheese?”

I really considered and pondered, “Huh. I’ve never heard of such a unique way of referring to cheeses” but could it work? Could you say breeds of cheese?

Unfortunately, semantically, it wouldn’t work (even if it does roll off the tongue).

Breed refers to living organisms, particularly domesticated animals (dogs, cattle, turtles, that sort). Now, while I would make a case for cheese having a biological component due to the bacterial and microbial cultures used during its production, the term “breed” is defined for that whose genetic lineage has been carefully controlled to isolate and emphasize certain traits.

And alas, cheese has no genes to speak of that can undergo Darwin’s theory of evolution…well.

You could stick some mutagen in there, and infuse it with a living organism’s trace DNA to create something atrocious like Mikey’s cat but with cheese…euh. Let’s shelve that thought.

By the way, the word you’re looking for is “varieties” of cheese. I’m rather impartial to any brand; it’s not something I eat on its own all too often.

I suppose I prefer mozzarella! Whatever brand of mozzarella Antonio’s uses on their pizzas anyway.

(Self-ies are a no-go for privacy but identification from a closeup should be much more difficult...?)

[overstuffd]

Taking you out to a - unbeknownst to you - feeder cinema.

'It's amazing!' I tell you. 'They have waiter service right to the seats - and I got us a great deal. We're going to watch a marathon of classic stoner movies and we get dinner and unlimited snacks. Doesn't that sound perfect?'

Without thinking your hand goes to your growing pot belly. You kept saying you need to take it easy on indulging your appetite for greasy food - but your gut rumbles in response.

After a moment's hesitation, you agree that it sounds like fun. I smile, hungrily.

They're stoner comedies, so of course I get you stoned beforehand. Plenty of bong hits before we head out, encouraging you to hit my vape on the -thankfully- short walk to the movie theatre.

When we get there, the staff are so delighted to see you. They explain that you'll be served one course of dinner between each of the four movies and there'll be a midnight feast at the end. In the meantime, help yourself to the snack table.

Snack table hardly does it justice - there's a huge buffet set up with every kind of appetiser you can think of. I encourage you to go through to the theatre and get comfy in your seat while I fix you a plate.

The seats are really two person couches, with soft looking pillows to prop ourselves up on. They're pretty well sized, but with your thicker thighs you realise we'll be pressed close together.

You get settled, and I show up with your pre-dinner snack. If you weren't so stoned you'd say it seemed like a lot. Your plate is stacked with mozzarella sticks, garlic bread and mac and cheese, all of them geneorusly portioned out for you by me.

As it is though your munchies are kicking in hard, so you accept the plate and start eating. Before the film starts one of the attendents comes by and smiles as they place a bucket sized soda cup and extra large popcorn next to our seat, on your side naturally. I already let them know your favourite candies, and they're mixed through the popcorn, the chocolate gently melting in the still warm kernels.

The film starts, and soon you're snorting with laughter like a dumbass at the cheesy jokes and slap stick. Your mouth is dry from the smoking and all the salty food, so you end up chugging your soda hard, but whenever it starts running low one of the attentive staff is there with a replacement.

The same happens with your popcorn, you're only halfway through before your carton is replaced with a fresh batch. It makes it hard to keep track of what you're eating, but between the snack plate and the endlessly refilling bag you're pretty sure you've already had what most people would consider a meal.

It's hard to concentrate on that though, because the first movie is over and it's time for appetisers to be served. You almost don't believe me when I say you haven't even had the first course yet.

Before you put up too much of a fuss though I hand you my vape - no, the staff won't mind I promise - and you relax again, especially when I offer you a pair of gummy edibles to kick in during the movie.

I took the liberty of ordering for you, and you're already faded by the time your heaping pile of nachos arrive, loaded with cheese, guacamole, sour cream, hot salsa, jalapenos and brisket. The spiciness hits your sensitised pallet hard, but there's always more soda to soothe it.

The second movie has started now, and as it plays you polish off your nachos, and most of my order of onion rings once I pass it over.

At some point, your soda cup is replaced with an extra-large cold beer, but you chug that down just as happily, your mind getting floatier with every gulp.

At the end of the second movie the main courses arrive, and you try and tap out. The greasy, double-patty burger is huge, even ignoring the massive side of fries and slaw. The attendents have bought you mug sized tubs of spicy mayo, creamy burger sauce and barbecue to help everything slip down easily, but even so.

You turn to me, your eyes big as the third film starts to roll. I pretend to be sympathetic, but my words are the last thing you want to hear. 'Oh, poor thing! Are you too out of it to eat your dinner even though you're so hungry?'

You try to put together a protest but forming a whole sentence is beyond you at this point, so you flop backwards and let me slowly feed you the burger and sides, holding the dripping handfuls to your mouth until you take a bite and then pushing salty fries in afterwards. When you slow too much I push my vape into your mouth again and the new rush of haziness gives you another burst of energy.

You don't remember anything that happens in the third film, just the growing heat between your legs as your waistband presses harder and harder into your stomach.

The final break - dessert. I get up from our seat, and even if you'd been able to speak you didn't think to ask where I was going, your mind completely preoccupied with the pressure in your belly.

When I come back though, you've realised there's a sundae bar in the lobby that I've visited on your behalf. A huge bowl of softserve, another bucket really, smothered in caramel and chocolate sauce, peanuts, cookie crumb and whipped cream.

Your stoamch audibly groans when you see it, but you're so docile you let me push more than a few spoonfuls between your lips before you start turning your face away, struggling even to move that much.

You're expecting me to grow more forecful, but instead I set the icecream aside and pay attention to your straining gut, undoing your pants (you sigh in relief, they were moments away from bursting) and rubbing slow circles on your belly. My hand dips lower as I make lazy circles and you moan appreciatively, way too far gone to care about embarassing yourself in public.

The film is drawing to a close, the lovable losers have completed their stoner quest, and you're getting close to finishing too. Once you're frantically grinding against my fingers, though, I pull away, and suddenly the icecream bucket is back at your lips.

No spoon now, the softserve has melted into a thick and creamy shake mined with sweetness. I part your lips and tilt the bucket so it pours into your mouth. Youf flabby mind can think of only one defence against choking on it so you swallow, slowly, painfully, your overstretched stomach straining at the additional pressure.

The credits of the movie are rolling and you're almost finished with your shake - and my hand is back between your legs, rougher than before.

I've been training you to come when your stomach is straining, so I up the speed as you take your last mouthful and you finish over my fingers.

I ruffle your hair and wipe a little icecream off your cheek as I coo at what a good job you did for me.

The staff are in no rush for us to leave, which is good because you can't stand right now.

Instead they leave the lights low as I gently rub your eager belly, enjoying the deep rumbles as you start digesting your enormous meal.

When you've recovered a little I'll walk you to the car - and maybe if you're good we can get drive through on the way home.

[mediumgayitalian]

“Death Breath! Hey! Wait up!”

Nico bolts. He makes it about ten feet away from his cabin door before Will and his stupid long legs catch up with him, throwing an arm over his shoulder and then immediately tripping over his own foot and sending them both sprawling.

“I hate you,” Nico groans, curling up on the grass.

It’s too early for any of this. He was just trying to get back at Cecil for covering everything he owned in aluminum foil last week — and then he was going to go right the hell back to bed.

He knew he should have fucking shadow travelled.

“Aw, c’mon. You love me.”

Nico pretends to gag. The only thing he gets is Will’s crossed arms and raised eyebrow, so he doubles down and really starts to retch. Whatever. It’s eight thirty in the morning. He fell asleep at five. Rational thinking is a distant, distant memory.

“Whenever you’re done.”

“I will be sick at the thought for the next eight weeks,” Nico informs him. For dramatic effect, he looks up at Will’s face — which he cant even see, since the sun’s in his eyes — and shudders.

“You know, you have a genuine, beautiful talent for the dramatic arts, the likes of which I have never seen. Are you sure you’re not secretly an Apollo kid?”

I better not be, ‘cause then all the staring I do at your calves would be real weird, he thinks to himself, then considers whether he can convince Kayla to give him a lobotomy. He thinks she might like the opportunity.

“Piss off,” he says instead of that, artfully schooling his face into the aristocratic mask he’s perfected from his father, squaring his shoulders and looking at Will like he’s a pebble lodged in the flesh of his heel.

Will rolls his eyes. “Get up, Sharpay Evans. You’re gonna stain your shirt worse than you already have.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “My shirt is perfectly fine, thank you very much. I order them in black for a reason.”

He notices a giant grass stain on the side when he stands. He ignores it. Will does not.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re the Goth King.”

“Ghost King.”

“Right, right. That helps your case.”

Nico shoves him, fighting back a grin. “Whatever, Solace. What are you bothering me for?”

“Oh, yeah!”

Nico is a deeply cheesy person. Down to the core of him, past all the sarcasm and prickliness and trauma, or whatever, he’s made of fucking mozzarella, because what business does he have comparing Will’s eyes to the morning winter sky? Huh? That’s embarrassing. It isn’t even original. If Nico caught anyone saying shit like that out loud in real life, he’s collapse into the shadows from embarrassment. He needs electroshock therapy.

“I was thinking —”

“Rare,” Nico quips, just to watch Will’s eyebrow twitch. It does. Nico smiles.

“I was thinking,” he repeats, mocking glare in Nico’s direction, “that you and me go to the city this afternoon.”

“You chased me across camp for that?”

“Oh, please, Zombie Face. I chased you maybe twenty yards.”

“I think all that time sniffing rubbing alcohol has deteriorated your brain.”

“I think I’m going to shove you in the lake.”

“Feel free to try. You will not wake up the next morning.”

“Nah.” Will shoots him a smug smile. Nico trips over air. “I can be as annoying as I want and you still won’t kill me. I have impunity.”

Nico rolls his eyes, refusing to dignify that with an answer. The less he acknowledges his own shame, the more likely it will go away on its own. Probably.

“Anyways. Guess what Cecil told me today.”

“His last will and testament?” Nico guesses, suddenly remembering his reason for being up this early.

“No, no, not that.” Will pauses. “Well, I mean, he did. I passed it on to Chiron. He has requested that when you maul him, you avoid his face, because he wants to be a sexy corpse and he can’t do that if you destroy his prettiest features.”

“Noted. Please inform him I will come for him within a window of the next fifteen hours.”

Theres a very particular face Will makes when he finds something genuinely funny. A smile a little more crooked than his regular one, teeth working at his bottom lip to hold it back, left dimple appearing in his cheek. It makes Nico want to do stupid things like press his thumb into said divot. He instead shoves his hands deeply into his pockets.

“I’ll let him know.” He clears his throat. “Anyways. You know what day it is today?”

Nico squints. “Tues…day? No, Wednesday.” He glances at Will. It’s been maybe….three days since their weekly sleepover? No, fuck, four. He thinks. “Thursday. Final answer.”

“Monday,” Will corrects, “and, gods, you need to sleep more. And a calendar. But no, that’s not my point.”

“Feel free to get to it.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Will finally explains. He tries for exasperated, but it doesn’t work — he’s clearly excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet and waving his hands. “And The Five Seasons is doing half off for couples, so you and I need to go!”

He waves his hands, as if tying off some grand reveal. His (blue blue blue blue) eyes are squeezed nearly shut by the force of his beam, which lessons slightly with every second Nico does not respond.

“William,” he says finally. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “William.”

Will pouts. “What?”

“Explain how this is relevant to me, William.”

“Aw, c’mon, Nico! Don’t be difficult!”

“William,” stresses Nico again. “We are not a couple. Did you hit your head again?”

“Well, duh, Neeks, it’s about the scam!” He flaps his hand in a way Nico assumes is meant to convey something. “We’re gonna — eat! Cheap! By pretending to be a couple!” Now both hands are flopping, paired with wide, imploring eyes. “Obviously!”

“Obviously,” Nico repeats, slowly. He instructs one half of his brain to keep its focus on not melting into a puddle of blushing embarrassed goo, and the other to exercise restraint and not strangle the boy in front of him. A headache begins to press behind his eyes. “Will, what the shit.”

“You of all people!” Will throws his hands up. “You love scamming people! You hate corporate holidays! You frequently throw pebbles at people who look, and I quote, too obnoxiously happy! You’re the best hater I know! You should be on board!”

He makes a compelling point. Not that Nico is going to make that easy for him.

“You seem very invested in this,” Nico points out. He manages to keep his voice tastefully judgmental, which he’s very proud of.

“Of course I am! I want cheap Five Seasons food, godsdammit!” He pauses, switching tactics. “Nico,” he says softly. He puts a gently hand on Nico’s forearm, making him freeze. He is suddenly very, very close, and wow, did his hair always frame his face in gentle waves? Has that always been a thing? “I really, really want to scam a restaurant with you.” He smiles, small and crooked and gods, Will doesn’t look dangerous very often, but holy Hades when he does — “Will you make my Valentines, and scam a restaurant with me?”

His fingers begin to trace little circles in the inside of Nico’s wrist.

“Yes,” he squeaks, voice cracking.

“Yes!” Will cheers, pulling his fist. “Yes, hell yes, Nico! We are going to scam the shit out of this restaurant! Half off for couples? How about half off for heathens! Free money, baby! Fuck yeah!”

He turns back towards Nico, smile still wide and radiant, blinking eyes pools of sparkling excitement. Nico’s knees go a little weak. “I’ll come get you at 2! Thank you, Neeks!”

He runs off back to his cabin, only tripping twice. Nico watches him go, feeling a little like he’s tripping, too, with all the swooping his stomach is doing.

“Dude,” he mumbles to himself, shaking his head. “Be normal. Christo.”

It takes him ten straight minutes to get back to his cabin, even though he’s standing at the porch.

———

The obsidian handle of the Hades’ cabin door rattles.

“Neeks!” calls a voice behind the door, “you ready to go?”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Nico scrambles over to the mirror and stares at himself. He turns a little to the left. He scowls. “Shit!” Tugging the shirt off, he turns back to his closet, tossing the piece of clothing to join the rest of its brethren on the floor. “Shitfuck. Fuckshit. Shit.”

“Nico!”

“Coming!”

Tapping his foot rapidly, he looks harder, as if that will magically make the right shirt pop into existence, perfectly pressed, on a hanger. “Shit.”

“What could possibly be taking so long? You’ve had two hours!”

“I care about my appearance, Mr Flip Flops and Scrubs!”

“Bleh bleh! Hurry up!”

Nico bites his lip. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t, really. Five Seasons is not actually a fancy restaurant. He and Will just like to joke that it is, because it has tablecloths. They’ve gone there dozens of times before; they stop every time they’re in the city for supply runs or visits to Olympus or to harass their summer-only friends at school. There is literally no reason for Nico to be stressing about what stupid shirt he should wear. Gods know Will is wearing cargo shorts.

“Nico!”

“I’m coming!“

Scowling, he digs through the pile of discarded clothes until he finds the first shirt he’d put on — a dark green button up that was given to him, along with a bunch of other fancy clothes he never wears, by the Aphrodite cabin. He hastily shoves their buttons through their holes, cursing when he mixes them up and has to start over, and sprints over to the mirror to inspect himself.

The shirt looks good. It’s a little tight on the arms, which he suspects was on purpose, and the colour compliments his skin nicely. The buttons are a dark, shiny brown that match his eyes. They pair nice with his simple jeans and black vans, casual enough that he doesn’t look like he’s going to Prom, or anything stupid like that, but dressy enough that it looks like he put effort in. He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to make the staticky strands sit right, but gives up pretty quickly. It’s okay if one thing is a little messy, right?

“Finally,” huffs Will as the door swings open. He glances Nico up and down, then grins. “You look great.”

Nico was right. He is indeed wearing cargo shorts, although to his credit they are his one pair without various Head Medic stains. His sweater, too, is a pretty blue, V-necked, long-sleeved, and a completely different style than his shorts. It clashes horribly. His shoes are, for some reason, bright solid pink. Nico suspects Hecate magic. His hair is braided in two French braids, his favourite way to wear it. Nico believes he is also wearing a touch of sparkly eyeshadow.

“You look dorky.”

Will grins wider. “Thank you! I wouldn’t let anyone help me choose something.”

“You should have.”

“I wanted it to be authentic, Nico. Also, got something for you.” From behind his back, he pulls out a handful of daisies, black dirt clinging to their roots, like he plucked them straight from the ground. Nico is inexplicably endeared by the image, and prays the smile on his face is less soft than he knows it is.

“You got me flowers?”

“Well, duh, Avril Lavigne. We gotta sell the scam.”

Nico brings them close to his face and inhales deeply. They smell fresh and earthy and sweet.

“That’s a stupid reason to bring someone flowers.”

“Give them back, then.”

“No. Fuck off. They’re mine.”

Will’s eyes twinkle. “Okay.” He holds out his arm. “Ready to go?”

The jump is close enough that Nico can convince him to shadow travel, and not just because he sadistically looks forward to the shade of green Will’s face will get after. As dangerous as he knows it can be, he misses it, sometimes. There’s something comforting about it, something soothing and familiar. Shadow travelling to the restaurant eases any lingering nerves.

“If you’re gonna throw up, do it somewhere I can’t hear you,” he says as they materialize in an alley.

Will’s cheeks puff out. “I’m gonna do it on your fuckin’ shoes.”

“I will leave your ass here, Solace, I swear to the gods.” Despite his grumbling, he rests a cool hand on the back of Will’s neck until he’s recovered. “Good?”

“Yeah.” He straightens, dusting off his sweater. “Let’s go.”

Nico follows him down the alley and onto the street, elbowing past the crowd of pedestrians until they approach the familiar glass doors. He rolls his eyes fondly every time Will apologizes to someone.

“You need to be meaner.”

Will sticks his tongue out and tries to trip him. Unfortunately, he only manages to throw himself off balance, nearly crashing to the floor of Nico hadn’t caught him.

“Good gods, Solace.”

“That was your fault!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The doors of the restaurant are absolutely plastered in cheesy red hearts and bows and cartoon kisses. And, as promised, a giant sign promising couples a fifty percent discount on their meals.

“My love,” says Will dramatically, holding out a hand, “shall we?”

Nico sighs, resting his hand delicately in Will’s. It sparks with electricity, like it always does. “I suppose.”

“Party pooper.”

“I’m not hearing oh, Nico, thank you so much for doing this incredibly stupid thing with me, you are my dearest friend and I owe you one. Or three, for some reason.”

Will’s mouth twitches. “Oh, Nico, thank you so much for —”

Nico shoves him, laughing. “Shut up.”

They’re seated pretty quickly, server smiling when they take notice of their clasped hands. Will orders chicken tenders, like he does every single time without fail, and water. Nico orders from the adult menu and absolutely does not make any kind of show about it.

“There is nothing babyish about chicken tendies.”

“Oh, of course not.”

“Is this about you having a credit card? That does not make you more adult than me. It makes you a nepo baby.”

“Mhm. Sure thing.”

“Nobody likes a nepo baby, Nico.”

“Look, I think your drink comes with a complimentary sippy cup.”

Teasing and joking with Will is so easy that Nico forgets the core of their mission. The pink garlands hanging from the ceiling fade into the background — he’s too busy crying with laughter when Will nearly chokes to death on a french fry, too busy flicking a forkful of food at his shoulder just to make him shriek, too busy kicking his shin under the table. He catches Nico’s foot between his the fourth time he tries it, keeping it trapped for the rest of the meal. Nico finds he doesn’t mind.

“And your bill,” says their server when they’re done, setting down a slip of paper. “Forgive me if I’m being presumptuous, but do you two qualify for today’s discount?”

Will smirks widely. “We do,” he says, with no small amount of pleasure. He shoots Nico the least subtle wink of all time. Nico rolls his eyes, cheeks going a little pink.

“Great! You guys have a wonderful Valentine’s day.”

“You, too.”

The server hurries away, turning to their other tables. Will’s smile is wide and smug.

“I knew it would work.”

“Duh. Easiest scam in the world, Solace.”

He sticks his tongue out. “And thus the best payout. You’re welcome.”

“Blah, blah. Gimme the bill.”

“Um, no way, di Angelo. I’m paying.”

He opens his wallet before Nico can stop him, mouthing as he counts the bills.

“What? No! I’m paying.”

“Are not.”

“Am too!”

“Are not.” He sets down a couple twenties. Nico snatches them right back up. “You we’re just complaining about my credit card!”

“Exactly. Thus my need to continue to pretend you don’t have one, so we can continue our friendship.”

“Solace, I swear to the gods.”

“di Angelo, I swear to the gods.”

Nico stares him down. Will stares back. He doesn’t even try to hide his lazy grin, his laughing eyes.

“You’re not paying for this by yourself,” Nico says firmly. “You don’t have a job. My father invented being rich.”

“Sure, but I made you come with me.”

“Ugh!” Nico throws his hands up, imagining how satisfying it would be to wrap his hands around that long neck (followed by his teeth and his tongue and his —). “Why are you impossible? I would’ve gone with you no matter what, stupid!”

As soon as he says it he wants to stick his head in wet cement. For a brief second, something like surprise flits across Will’s face, before he schools it back into his teasing smirk.

“Well, obviously, Death Breath. I’m excellent company.”

“You’re literally the most annoying person I know.”

“And yet here you are, hanging out with me, of your own volition.”

“…I’m paying next time.”

Will grins. “Whatever you say.”

They walk around the city for a while before heading back to camp. Will says it’s because he needs the air, Nico knows it’s because he wants him to rest a little longer before trying to shadow travel again. He tries not to let himself get all melty inside.

(Nobody willingly hangs out around the city for the ‘air’. He’s a shit liar. Nico should be offended.)

It’s nearing curfew by the time they melt back out from behind Thalia’s tree, extra shadows of early evening making the trip easier.

“Those fries are going to make a reappearance,” Will grimaces.

“Not if you don’t want me to kick you in the face.”

“You’d never.”

He would indeed never. But he would rather pass away than admit it, so.

“C’mon, dot face. It’s getting late. You have a cabin to run.”

“Oh, Nico,” Will says in a breathy falsetto, “are you walkin’ me to my cabin? How chivalrous!”

“Nevermind.”

“No no no no no I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Nico allows himself to be tugged, weak to Will’s giggles. “Walk me to my cabin. C’mon.”

Sighing, as if he’s so put out, Nico does. Some point in between Thalia’s tree and the amphitheater, Will’s hand slides down from around his wrist to tangled in between his fingers. Coincidentally, his mouth goes dry.

As they approach the Apollo cabin, Will slows to a stop.

“Hey.” He squeezes their fingers together, smile soft in the dying light of dawn. “I had fun today. Thank you for coming with me.”

Nico swallows. One day, those words will be said in a different context, if everything goes well for Nico, and he’s not sure how the hell he’s going to handle it without bursting into flame. “Yeah, well. Anything to scam a restaurant.”

“Right.”

They walk the last few steps to the cabin, rickety porch steps creaking under their feet as they approach the open door. Will doesn’t let go.

“Hey, Nico.”

“…Yeah?”

Quick as a flash, Will leans in and presses the softest of kisses to his mouth. The noise Nico makes is practically punched out of his lungs, spine going rigid in surprise.

“You can pay for our next date, okay?”

He’s gone before Nico can respond, ducking into his cabin with a small smile and closing the door behind him. Nico stands there, like an idiot, for three solid minutes at the very least, distantly aware of the giggles coming through the open window.

His hand comes up, fingers brushing his bottom lip.

“The little fucker set me up.”

Valentine’s day scam. Please. The only scam today was the scam of Will’s sneaky asking.

Nico smiles.

“You’re a mess, Solace!” he shouts, knowing damn well Will is listening.

He’s right. “Goodnight, Nico!”

Shaking his head, Nico runs back to his cabin, entire body tingling and cheeks aching with his grin.

[ncityprincess]

pick up the phone, baby

plot: phone sex with boyfriend jaehyun

MDNI

you tossed your head back and let out a long sigh of frustration. there you were, stark naked and sprawled out in the middle of your large bed. with your man out for the night, it left you feeling lonely and needy. you were trying to find a way to pass some time all alone in your quiet apartment.

it wasn't like this was your first night alone without jaehyun. you and jaehyun always gave each other the space to have your own separate lives and interests outside of the relationship. jaehyun encouraged you to go to brunches and vacations with your friends, and you made it clear that you respect his lifestyle and friendships.

however, you weren't feeling so understanding this particular night.

you kept rubbing at yourself, itching for your climax like madwoman, but it never came. you just couldn't satisfy yourself the way you wanted to. you decided you needed some extra reinforcement and went to go fish for your trusty vibrator, only to find out it was dead. perfect.

why did jaehyun have to have his guys night tonight of all nights…

"fuck it!" you spat out and retrieved your phone from under the thick comforter. it took you no more than five seconds to unlock your phone and call your unsuspecting boyfriend.

jaehyun reached for his phone in his back pocket when he felt it vibrate. Considering the possibility that it could be you calling, he got up from the couch in search of some quiet and privacy. "yo yuta! you can take my turn." jaehyun said as he tossed yuta his controller. yuta merely nodded at him and picked up the controller so he could get ready to play.

jaehyun walked past the kitchen where Johnny and taeyong were making themselves drinks and headed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. low and behold, it was your beautiful contact photo gracing his lock screen. jaehyun picked up your call with a smile.

"hi my love, everything okay? have you eaten something yet?" jaehyun rambled into the phone like the attentive and sweet boyfriend he was. his innocent line of questioning almost took you out of your horny haze, the whole reason why you had called in the first place.

"hi." was all you said back in an airy tone.

jaehyun scratched his head softly. "um hi, is everything okay?" he repeated curiously.

"how's your little party with the guys going?" you asked in an even tone, mindlessly twirling a strand of your hair.

jaehyun had to admit, he was stumped. this outing wasn't something out of the norm for him. he always got together with his members. whether it was to play video games and order ungodly amounts of takeout, or sing karaoke until sunrise, this was nothing new. he appreciated you seemingly taking interest in how his night was going, but something was off...

"so far so good. we've just been playing the game and hanging out. we actually just ordered some pizza. I can bring you back a few slices if you want? we ordered from that place that we went to a few weeks ago. you know, the one next to the park. Their mozzarella sticks were......uh y/n?" jaehyun paused when he heard your labored breathing on the other end.

what jaehyun didn't know is that you were running your hands up and down your body while he was talking in that sexy husky voice of his. you always had a thing for his deep voice. it brought tingles all over your body. your hands had settled back on your dripping pussy, right where they were before you had called him.

"mm, mhm?" you moaned out, almost not realizing he had called your name. you were so into how good his voice sounded over the phone...

"what are you doing?" jaehyun questioned.

you let out a soft giggle, running a hand through your hair. "I'm laying down in our big bed, all alone and bored." you replied slowly. seductively.

jaehyun got a whiff of your bedroom voice and didn't waste any time letting his mind wander to darker places. he walked back over toward the bathroom door and locked it.

"aww, you poor thing. what's a girl like you gonna do about that boredom, huh?" jaehyun goaded.

his words shot directly to your core, making you speed up your movements on your buzzing clit.

"what am I gonna do about it, or what am I doing about it?" you purred out mischievously.

jaehyun smirked and ran his hand over his jaw. so that's what his girl was doing this whole time. being a little slut.

"oh you naughty girl. that's why you're calling me, huh? can't stand being alone so you need me to talk you through it?"

"I mean if you're offering, yeah I'd like you to talk me through it actually"

jaehyun glanced at the door. the faint sounds of the video game and the guys' intermittent laughter and chatter seemed to mask over what was going on in the bathroom.

or at least he hoped so.

“baby, the guys are right outside the door.” he said with a warning tone. it only made you wetter.

“i don’t care daddy, need you so bad." There it was, the one word that made Jaehyun go insane.

“fuck. you and that slutty fucking mouth of yours…”

“it's your fault. you made me this way.” you sighed out, spreading your legs even wider.

“oh did i?”

“you know you love it when i talk nasty, daddy.”

jaehyun chuckled incredulously and leaned his back against the cold bathroom wall. “you’re something else, you know that y/n?”

“oh just shut up and make me feel good already” you said with a twisted smirk.

jaehyun groaned softly and shoved his hand down his grey sweatpants, ghosting his hand over his stiff dick.

"what are you doing to yourself, darling?"

you bit your lip, excited to tell him every last detail. "I'm grabbing my tits while I rub my pussy. but I really wish it was you doing it."

"yeah? you wish I was home so I could take care of you? touch all over my little baby and make her feel good?" jaehyun spat on his hand and slid it up and down his shaft. holy fuck he couldn't wait to get home to you.

"mhm. I love it when you put your hands all over me. it's not the same without you."

jaehyun felt a tinge of pride in his chest, knowing that he had a beautiful girl waiting for him at home who craved him just as much as he craved her.

"fuck baby. is that pussy ready to be fucked yet? think you can slide a few fingers in?" jaehyun gritted out, feeling himself get close due to the erotic situation he was in.

you didn't hesitate for a second and slowly slipped two fingers inside of yourself. you let out a slutty moan when you felt your fingers stretch you open.

jaehyun chuckled darkly, "I guess I have my answer then. go on, fuck yourself nice and deep for me. I want you nice and stretched out for me when I come home tonight, ok?"

"yeahhhhhh." you whined out and rocked your hips against your hand. who knew all you needed was the sound of your man's voice to get you off. this was way better than whatever you were trying to do before.

"god Jae I'm sooo wet. need you." you whined out, turning over onto your stomach. you felt your fingers much deeper in this position and let out more lewd sounds of pleasure.

jaehyun wanted nothing more than to bury his face between your thighs and hear all of those delicious sounds in person. he was halfway tempted to leave the hangout without saying a word. could you blame him? the love of his life was at home fucking herself to the sound of his voice.

jaehyun jerked himself off roughly, eager to get himself off quickly. not only was the situation he was currently in extremely hot, he was also mildly aware that his friends were waiting for him to come back and join them.

"alright baby, I need you to cum for me. let me hear how hard you can make yourself cum."

you were so close you could taste it. all it took was a few more bounces on your fingers and you were exploding all over them. jaehyun's face contorted in immense pleasure while listening to you ride out your high and before he knew it, he was blowing his load all over his hand. it took every ounce of self control to not make a sound in this echoey bathroom.

both of you were catching your breath and calming down from the intense highs you experienced.

"well I never thought I'd find myself jerking off in taeyong's bathroom but there's a first time for everything I guess."

you covered your face in your hands, slightly embarrassed thinking about what just transpired not too long ago.

"don't come back too late ok? I'm not done playing with you, daddy." you said lightheartedly.

jaehyun finished cleaning himself up and pulled his sweats back up. "aye aye, honey. call me if you need anything. I love you so much."

jaehyun wrapped up in the bathroom and tried his hardest to act like he wasn't just phone fucking his girlfriend a few minutes ago. jaehyun walked into the kitchen to grab some water. Johnny smirked slightly and grabbed his drink. He exited the kitchen past jaehyun, but not before busting his balls.

“tell y/n i said hi” johnny said with a shit eating grin.

[chronicbeans]

But seriously people be careful. It's freaking mozzarella not blue cheese. Moldy cheese doesn't make it blue cheese.

Idk I guess cheese/mold infodump below (trigger warning for pictures of mold):

Blue cheese is made by purposely putting a SPECIFIC type of mold that is known to be safe to eat into it, which is called penicillium roqueforti. For the record, penicillium roqueforti is a different strain of penicillium than us used in making the antibiotic penicillin, which is penicillium chrysogenum. The reason why the mold in blue cheese is safe is because it is purposely put there. We know what type of mold it is.

SPOILED MOLD, on the other hand, can be any type of mold and that makes it extremely dangerous. For one, people can have severe allergies to specific types of mold that are commonly found on spoiled food or in homes. That's why black mold is considered to be so dangerous and a public health risk. Black mold can trigger an allergic reaction from your immune system very suddenly if you breathe it in, especially in immunocompromised people. This CAN BE DEADLY.

The effects don't end there. Even people who don't necessarily have an allergy to mold can be impacted by the molds found on spoiled foods. For example, Cladosporium is a type of mold that can trigger asthma attacks in people with asthma, which CAN BE DEADLY. It's also dangerous for people with allergies or are immunocompromised, like other types of dangerous molds. Even more importantly, it looks like a lot of safe types of mold. The left image is a drawn diagram of Cladosporium and the right is Cladosporium growing inside a home. As you can see, it looks a lot different in real life and is harder to detect, since it looks like a lot of types of mold when you're actually looking at it.

White molds can be dangerous too, for the same reasons. Some can be allergic to it. Some can get infections from it. You don't even have to eat the mold in some cases to get sick of have a reaction, because some people are impacted by breathing in the spores of molds.

Another important fact is that if you can see mold on your food, that means there's a LOT of mold on it. More than you can see. Mold is a fungus, so it must grow out of what it's on in order to be visible. I couldn't find a good quality diagram showing what you see vs what's there, so Tumblr is probably going to tear this diagram's quality apart, but it's the best I can find.

In short, DON'T EAT THE LUNCHLYS and DON'T BUY THEM FOR YOUR KIDS. We KNOW there's mold growing on them already because we can see it. Even if you don't SEE mold on your Lunchly, don't eat it, because it's very likely that it's INSIDE it. You don't have to worry about every food you eat just because there may, theoretically, be mold. Just worry about foods that you get reports of mold being found in new product, like Lunchly.

[viviennevermillion]

late night snack

✧ synopsis: you find your hungry captain in the ship's kitchen at 1am. you decide to have mercy on him and make him a meal.

✧ contains: luffy x gn!reader, ambiguous relationship (bc honestly luffy is so aroace-coded to me), cuddles, cooking as a bonding experience, 2.1k words

✧ now playing: johnny boy (instrumental) — santiano

✧ warnings: none

"Luffy, I'm almost too afraid to ask, but what exactly is it you're trying to do?"

It was the dead of the night and you originally just planned to make a quick trip to the kitchen and back for a glass of juice. After all, everyone was already sleeping and there were no disturbances in sight. Considering the plethora of instances that had you running away from marines or getting into fights with other pirates, that was a blessing to be fully taken advantage off. So you were looking forward to let the swaying of the ship on the waves lull you back into the land of dreams and find solace in the soft sound of light rain meeting the Going Merry.

But you found that when you entered the kitchen, you were not alone. And wherever your captain was, adventure was never far behind. This time "adventure" came in the form of a fire hazard frying pan with food in it taped to the kitchen wall with Luffy's rubber arm holding onto the wooden spoon. Luffy himself was standing on the other side of the room, his arm stretched all the way across the kitchen.

"Oh hi!", he exclaimed, happy to see you, then started to explain his current predicament, "well you see, Sanji refused to make me some food because it is 1am and I said 'Sanji, please' and he groaned 'make it yourself'. So I thought 'hey, that's actually not a bad idea!'"

"I don't like where this is going, but go on", you let out a sigh but could hardly be mad at him for the chaos he had caused in the kitchen, given the way he was looking at you with such a pure smile. "So, given that this was my first time cooking anything, my first attempt didn't work out as I intended to", he continued, "so I wanted to clean up the kitchen so Sanji wouldn't get mad, but you see, the spoon got stuck to the frying pan and I can't remove it even with my devil fruit powers." He still looked so carefree explaining this, that you couldn't help but envy him for his seemingly complete lack of stress and anxiety.

You stepped closer to the pan to see how he managed to get the wooden spoon stuck on it. You looked back and forth between the pan and your smiling captain, blinking in disbelief a couple of times. "I really don't get what I did wrong, I did exactly what the cookbook said", Luffy went on, "it said caramelize the onions-"

You stopped him right there, gesturing to the frying pan. "So let me just confirm this: you threw a whole fish and three whole onions into the pan and put caramel on it... and from the looks of it mozzarella?" Luffy nodded. "Sanji always said that being a chef also means you can be creative with the food you make and I thought that sounded really fun!", he stemmed his hands into his hips. "You look way too proud of this", you raised an eyebrow with concern written on your face, sending a silent prayer to whatever was out there to hear you. Keep my captain safe, never let him near a stove unsupervised.

You gently removed his fist from the spoon, hearing his rubber arm snap back to its natural length. "You're lucky you're cute...", you sighed and removed the pan from the wall, putting it aside with a slightly painful smile on your face, "this is a Sanji problem."

Even though you had a soft spot for him, or perhaps especially because of it, you felt the need to remind Luffy of the dangers of cooking with 0 experience. "Please be more careful next time... you could have caused a fire on the ship", you turned around to speak to him only to find he was no longer where he had been standing just seconds ago. You looked around the room and found him rummaging through the fridge again. "I'm still hungry", he pouted. You could even hear his stomach growling. For the sake of him and everyone else you decided it was better to not let him go to bed hungry and risk waking up to the final inferno that would annihilate all seas.

"If I make you something, will you help me prepare the ingredients and clean up the kitchen?", you sighed but you looked up in surprise when you found Luffy in your embrace, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug and pressing his cheek to your shoulder. "Yes, thank you, you're the best!", he exclaimed and you couldn't help but smile, wrapping your arms around your captain as well and running your fingers through his soft hair. His hug felt warm and comforting and you almost didn't want to let go yet, but reminded yourself that you had promised to make him some food.

So you went over to the fridge and the pile of ingredients that Luffy had already dragged out of it and checked what you could make with the stuff you had. "I suppose I could make some wraps", you reasoned and started organizing the ingredients. "Ooh, fill mine with lots of meat please!", Luffy was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rocking back and forth with excitement. "Sure thing", you smiled back at him and tossed him the salad. "Can you wash this and cut a few leaves of it into small stripes?", you asked and Luffy nodded, getting up from the floor, seemingly lost in thought.

"Right... it needs to be washed", he repeated slowly as if this had been a major enlightenment to him. "Good lord...", you whispered with wide eyes, shaking your head at the mental image of what could have happened if you hadn't prevented him from making another 'Luffy original'. "Also, I noticed the oil was still in the cupboard, did you not use it when you tried to fry your fish?", you asked out of curiosity. Luffy shrugged. "I didn't know you had to put oil, I thought any liquid worked." You took a deep breath. "What did you put?" "Ketchup."

Despite everything, Luffy did a pretty good job following your instructions; after all, he had properly cut the salad, tomatoes and pulled the ground beef apart. "Cutting vegetables is harder than I thought", you just heard him mumble and turned around to find him staring at you with helplessness in his eyes, holding up his bleeding pointer finger.

"Yeah that's my fault, I should have seen that coming...", you sighed and opened a kitchen drawer to pull out the bandaids. "There you go", you said after putting the bandaid on Luffy's finger. He looked down at his finger, now covered in a black bandaid with a pirate skull on it and you just quietly heard him mumble something about a 'battle scar'.

"Sunshine, I think the tomato clearly won that one", you raised an eyebrow, preparing the meat for the wraps on the stove. "There'll be a rematch", Luffy informed you in a motivated tone. "Sure, tell that to Sanji tomorrow, I'm sure he's going to think that's a splendid idea", you chuckled. "Yeah, I will!", Luffy smiled at you. You laughed and went on to show Luffy how to prepare the beef.

He looked over your shoulder with his chin rested on it, watching what you did closely. He seemed curious and fascinated by how different cooking worked from what he originally thought. You leaned your head against his and heard him yawn. Luffy wrapped his arms around you again, nuzzling your neck with his eyes closed. "Hey, don't go falling asleep on me now, you don't want to miss your meal right?", you reminded him and he yawned again, nodding. "Don't worry, 'm awake", he mumbled with a tired voice.

Having him cling to you like this, peacefully resting on your shoulder, made you almost disappointed when the meat was finally done.

"This is great!", Luffy exclaimed with his mouth stuffed full of food after you had handed him two wraps, "thank you so much for the food!" You quietly enjoyed your own wrap, smiling at the situation. Luffy had a way of making every encounter the two of you had one without regrets, even if it involved cooking at 1am. As long as he was happy, you were content.

After finishing your late night snack, both of you decided it was time for a small break so you settled down on the couch, holding Luffy in your arms. You were laying on your back, your head propped up by a pillow, while your captain was resting on your chest with a satisfied smile on his face. He looks so cute, you thought, playing with his hair.

Luffy let out another yawn and you soon noticed he was drifting off to sleep. He looked so peaceful sleeping in your embrace and you cupped his cheek gently, pressing a soft goodnight kiss to his forehead. This was the night you found out that Luffy was a sleep-talker. "...Meat", he'd mumble and you smiled, deciding it would be cruel to get up now to wash the dishes and risk waking him up. Maybe you'd manage to get up in the morning before Sanji would wake up. This is worth it, Sanji will understand, you reasoned with yourself with perhaps a little too much optimism, something you suspected may have rubbed off on you from Luffy.

"Back in Windmill Village, they considered me a meat philosopher", Luffy mumbled in his sleep and it took you two minutes to suppress a laugh.

This man is an experience, you bit your lip to hold back your wheezing, burying your face in your hands. You just had to ask him to elaborate on this once he'd wake up. You shook your head with a bright smile on your face. Your fingers started gently drawing circles on Luffy's back, causing him to try and snuggle even closer in his sleep. Once you had recovered from your captain's sleep-talking endeavors, tiredness soon caught up to you and you drifted off to sleep, still holding onto Luffy. It was a peaceful night indeed.

But the peace was never meant to last. Once the sun had risen, you wake up to an angry "Luffy!" echoing through the kitchen. Luffy's eyes fluttered open and he promptly sat up. "Oh, good morning Sanji", he called out with a happy expression, stretching his limbs. Your ship's cook had a threatening smile on his face. "Don't 'good morning Sanji' me, what the fuck did you two do to my kitchen?"

"I helped y/n make food", Luffy explained, proud of his contribution. "I can see that", Sanji grabbed the caramel abomination from the kitchen counter and held it up, "this pan is literally ruined." You sat up as well and raised your hands. "In my defense, this was all his doing. I wasn't here to prevent this."

Luffy looked at you from the side. "Ratting me out like this... I thought we were in this together", he pouted and rested his chin on his knees. "Nuh-uh", you shook your head, "I'm not taking responsibility for Satan's first edible plague... then again I don't think you can even call this edible." "Technically almost everything is edible", Luffy gave you a thumbs-up.

"Dishes. Now."

You got up very fast after discovering that Sanji was not messing around. That was the day you two got sentenced to dish-washing duty for the next 3 weeks. Originally it was supposed to be one week, but you may or may not have gotten into a foam fight with Luffy, leaving the kitchen in an even bigger mess.

"This reminds me of my job at Baratie. Good times", Luffy was reminiscing. "You didn't have 'a job', you had to do the dishes because you couldn't pay for what looked like your last supper", you reminded him. "And I only broke 5 of them", he proudly informed you.

You couldn't help but laugh, Luffy joining in not soon after. You were once again reminded why you would never regret joining this crew. If someone could make even washing dishes fun and make you happy like this, you'd be damned to not keep him in your life. Luffy was like the sun, brightening up each day since you had met him; even the darkest of them. He looked up and caught you smiling at him from the side.

"What's the matter?", he asked, smiling back.

"Just thinking about how happy I am to have met you."

[hugemilkshake]

May I have friendship head canons for the Cheese Kingdom crew? What they'd be like as friends or what they'd like to do with y/n Cookie for fun? Thanks! :)

Enjoy the milkshake! I waited until the second part of the burning spice update to come out for this since we’d get smoked cheese

Also I was tempted to not put olive cookie here bc I don’t like her-

Golden Cheese Kingdom friendship Headcannons!

Golden Cheese

Golden Cheese will be the type of friend to spoil you and give you gifts

She will make you go to a spa with her, don’t fight her on it

Your honestly her support system due to how far the other ancients are and the cookie kingdom are, it’s hard to connect with them

So you honestly are someone that Golden Cheese considers a great treasure

Golden Cheese will use her wings to cocoon you in warmth (even though the dessert is pretty warm already-)

Olive Cookie

Info dumping info dumping Info dumping info dumping Info dumping info dump-

She would love to tell you everything about archaeology (you occasionally get annoyed with this)

She will shut up if you get annoyed with her but she will be sad

Honestly if you have an interest your really passionate about she will listen to you as well

Do expect to be dragged out to the dessert for little research expeditions

Burnt Cheese

Burnt Cheese might not say much, but you can tell that he enjoys your company

Very much uses actions over words to express how much he cares about you

Tbh you will always get a free pass it I the kingdom, you never need to do any of the soul weighing stuff, your a homie.

You also get to pet the jackals whenever, if Burnt Cheese is cool with you, your cool with them

Mozzarella Cookie

Honestly she’s very chill. You could probably say the wildest shit and she will be like “okay go off✨”

Now she will place bets with you a lot, what can she say? She loves a good gamble

You will be taken to any sort of gladiator monster battle because those are fun right?

One of the less risky things she likes to do is to let you do her hair, it might not stay in whatever shape you make it but it’s calming

Smoked Cheese

Honestly it would take A LOT to befriend this man. He’s a little sus of outsiders ngl.

But once you befriend him, he’s quite loyal

If your not good with sarcasm then you will suffer, Smoked Cheese is VERY sarcastic to default

But in the end, Smoked Cheese can be a pretty good friend if you give him a chance

Fettuccine Cookie

Fettuccine Cookie can be quite curious so do bear with her

She also isn’t much of a talker, but she’ll gladly listen to you ramble for hours

She will try to give you gifts, most of the time they are handmade and honestly well made at that!

She’s just glad you are her friend :3

[copperbadge]

I am asking you once again

To bear witness to my cottage pie...

I think at this point I'm actually pushing the term to its breaking point. It may need a new name. The bottom layer is 50/50 ground beef and lentils in a tomato-mustard gravy, under a thin layer of shredded mozzarella. On top is a mixture of mashed potatoes, caramelized onions, and sauteed mushrooms, so a bit less stiff than usual, more of a topping than a crust. It tastes great but it does look a little daunting.

I'm considering Condo Pie. Chicago Pie? Something else cottagecore maybe, like Forage Pie or something. I definitely foraged in my freezer for stuff to make it. Mmm, Forage Pie.

[ID: a smallish casserole in a round white dish; mostly only the top is visible, a dark gold crust over a layer of creamy mashed potato, seen on the left. In a few places a deep brown meat mixture is also visible. It looks like something definitely cooked in the Midwest.]

[brittle-doughie]

so, firstly, hey. Secondly, gonna do this anonymously cuz heaven knows what I'm about to say makes little to no sense. Thirdly, don't bite me for this weird as heck idea.

So everyone is going on about au's where ancients become beast ancients or swap places with them. My brain has recently been cooking (and probably burning) this new au similar yet very different. Mainly because the ancients and beasts are completely different cookies. Forgive me, for I'm about to start an entire novel about this thought.

It's like a role swap between the brave gang + ancients side kicks swapping with the ancients and beasts. I already saw someone make art of what soul jams the brave gang would get and it aligned with this au partially. The sidekicks swap with their ancients and the beasts swap with the brave gang. (yeah no, see why i went anonymous?) The only names that change are the beasts and the brave gang cuz I can't get the others names for crack

Ancients and their sidekicks

pure vanilla cookie and black raisin cookie. (don't question it, she's practically his sidekick so it just made sense)

Dark Cacao cookie and Caramel arrow cookie (and before anyone anyone asks "why not dark choco cooki-" I will smack the ever living daylight out of you, don't test me.)

Golden cheese cookie swaps with smoked cheese cookie (originally I wanted to do mozzarella cookie but then I questioned if that made sense considering what went down in beast yeast. I'm still unsure how to make that idea work considering their styles and whatnot but I'll figure it out. tempted to go back to mozzarella cookie tbh)

Wildberry cookie and hollyberry cookie. (we don't talk about pitaya)

white lily cookie and silverbell cookie. (Is he a child? Probably. Does it make for good character development in his time as an ancient? Hopefully. Does he also go evil like white lily cookie after finding out witches eat cookies? Can't confirm nor deny)

Beasts and bravegang (the ask is getting long so Imma just give the new names and you'll figure it out at this rate)

Light milk cookie and Shadow wizard cookie

Flour cookie and Mystic custard cookie

Chilli spice cookie and Burning pepper cookie

Sugar cookie and Eternal strawberry cookie

Salt cookie and Silent ginger cookie

Part of me wants this to be swallowed by the ask Karmen but it'd be nice if you did answer it. Thanks and goodbye

While it would be quite the interesting concept of having the Brave gang be in the positions of the Beasts, I’m kinda leaning towards Beast Ancients as my preferred taste, it just fits well given their relationship and concepts opposed to the Beasts.

Also, this is me being unsure, but I don’t think Silverbell Cookie is a child.

[steviewashere]

To Be So Mundane

Rating: General CW: Brief mention of Covid-19 (as this is set in 2021) Tags: Post-Canon, Post Vecna, Future Fic, Set in 2021, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Older Steddie, Domestic Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Teacher Steve Harrington, The Intimacy in a Bowl of Soup, Emotional Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Soft Eddie Munson, Soft Steve Harrington

Thought about finishing up the fourth chapter of my merman Steve fic. And then I got sidetracked, so here's this. Also, I don't know where they live or what Eddie does for work (maybe mechanic, if you feel so inclined to imagine him that way). Pick your flavor <3

🥣—————🥣 At the end of the day, Steve realizes it’s not the horror he’s experienced that will linger. Sure, they persist and he is frightened and he shakes sweating from it all. But when he comes home, exhausted to his core and sluggish to the soles of his feet, it’ll never be the agony he finds in his kitchen. It’s the warmth.

The sweet musk of vanilla bourbon candles bought from the home aisle of the neighborhood Walmart. A singular orange bulb in a second-hand floor lamp, tucked cozy by the couch, in the corner between the back door and the right armrest. Bookshelves of knick knacks and framed photos from 2003—when he finally tried the college route and graduated. The sprawl of mini-figure painting equipment on the coffee table: half-open paint jars that he closes up tight, still drying clean paint brushes, paper towels and yellowed newspaper, and magnifying goggles.

It’s to music. Soft crooning through the—now considered ancient—record player from 1988. Sometimes Jim Croce. Sometimes John Prine. Sometimes the goddess, Dolly Parton. Something familiar and nearly worn out from playing the records over and over and over. Tonight, it’s Jim. It’s coming back to the floating husking rasp of Eddie Munson’s fifty-five year old voice, not all that great but always sweet from by the stovetop.

To where Steve migrates, shoeless and briefcase free and his teacher’s badge hung up. Where soup simmers on the low heat—smelling of paprika and roasted carrots and chicken bouillon. The oven heating up a loaf of French bread, basted in garlic butter, sprinkled with shredded mozzarella cheese. Where Eddie stands, stirring and singing—his now silver hair pulled up into a bun, dressed down in a plain white t-shirt and black sweatpants, and his scruff not shaved—he must’ve had a lazy day. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, his body warm and his tummy a little pudgier. Eddie hums, reaching down with a free hand to cover the back of Steve’s, squeezing. And Steve’ll never be used to their wedding rings clinking together.

“Long day?” Eddie murmurs low.

Steve grunts. Digs his chin into Eddie’s left shoulder. His glasses going crooked from the angle. Peers down at the bubbling pot of dinner. “Kids kept threatening to take their masks off. Nearly started a coughing fight,” he answers at the same volume. He sighs, long and genuine. “They’ve officially turned Covid-19 into classroom warfare. Whatever happened to spitballs and globs of food?”

Eddie chuckles deep in his chest. “Don’t give ‘em ideas, Stevie.” He smiles softly down at his cooking, dimples deep and smile lines deeper. Steve kisses under his left ear just because. Because he can. Because this is what the world is when it doesn’t end, thank god. The soup is stirred slowly for a few more beats. He scoops up a spoonful in their beat up ladle. It’s got a few char scars from when they first learned to cook meals for one another—Steve believes it’s from the time he forgot to turn off the stovetop when making macaroni and cheese. Lesson learned.

“Here, taste this for me, baby?” Eddie gently requests, holding the ladle to Steve’s face over his shoulder. Hand cupping the underside. Face turned slightly to try and make eye contact, he’ll give himself a knot if he does it too long. Steve knows, having given many massages over the last decade.

He leans forward slightly, accepting the soup as Eddie tilts the ladle. Makes an obnoxious slurp that Eddie snorts at. Smacks his lips and hums. “Ooo, that’s good,” Steve mutters close to Eddie’s ear. “Got a little kick to it. You put a little bit of that new chili oil?”

“Mm and chili flakes,” Eddie hums. “Thought it would pair nicely. Remember that chicken I began marinating last night?”

“The chicken you told me I couldn’t make for my lunch today?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, turning back to the soup pot, shutting the burner off. “I told you not to take it all,” he points out with pleasant tease. “Because you’ll do that if I don’t stop you. And then you come home and complain that your stomach hurts because you ate too much. And then I have to put you on bed rest for the night.”

“I’m not that bad—“

“Anyway,” Eddie cuts in. “I marinated it in this ginger, coconut sauce that I saw a few nights ago on uh…What’s that app that Robin’s always sending videos from?”

“The…The TickTick app?” Steve guesses.

Eddie snaps his fingers together. “Yeah! That app!” He exclaims softly. (They’ll learn later it’s definitely not that, but it doesn’t matter.) He shrugs Steve off to grab the bread from the oven. Steve just moves around to their bar countertop, not a complaint on his tongue. Eddie continues, “I also added a little bit of coconut milk to the base broth. So, hopefully, this’ll be good. With the leftovers, I was thinking you could make your cauliflower rice for lunch and put the soup on top? Only if it’s good, though. If this sucks, I’ll pay for pizza tonight.”

Steve laughs from his belly. “If you do, make sure to get the gluten free crust. Stupid stomach has been acting up again,” he says softly.

Standing up, Eddie hisses. “You’re lucky that the bakery section at the grocery store only had gluten free baguettes then,” he teases gently once more. He sets the finished bread on the countertop, grabs the bottle of chili oil from by the pot of soup, and drizzles it lightly overtop the cheesy, garlic goodness. When he finally dishes up their dinner, he settles next to Steve at the counter. Bowls and small plates of bread in front of them. Glasses of crappy Barefoot red wine, because this is what they can afford—and it doesn't really suck, not when it's served thoughtfully like it is tonight.

“Thank you, baby,” Steve murmurs. He leans in close to Eddie’s side, presses a chaste kiss to his cheek, and then promptly digs in.

And it’s good. Everything’s so good. Jim Croce is singing about time in a bottle. The soup is warm and fresh and homemade. Every light is a careful amber. He’s tired and happy and…complete.

Eddie’s got soup in the scruff under his lip. But Steve doesn’t say anything. Just admires the fine wrinkles and lines to his face, where they’ve begun to really deepen. Admires how his eyes are just as big and soft and expressive as they were thirty-five years ago after Vecna. Where his body is soft. His endearingly white hair.

How he’s alive.

“Hey, Eds?”

Immediately, Eddie looks onto him. Eyes wide with trepidation. The corners of his mouth pinched downward. “Is it not good? I can go get my wallet if it’s—“

Steve lays his hand on the back of Eddie’s forearm. The right one, closest to him, where scars swamp the bats. And that says something, too, he’s sure. About how Eddie fought the bats and came out victorious anyway. His thumb runs soothingly over Eddie’s malleable, aged, warm skin. And his eyes prickle with tears—it would’ve been embarrassing if he were nineteen still, but what a wonderful thing to be alive and cry at all.

“I’m so fucking happy you’re here with me,” Steve breathes out all at once. He sighs through his mouth, a gentle sob escaping.

Eddie drops his spoon into his bowl of slowly cooling soup. And he reaches up, dislodging Steve’s hand on his arm completely, cupping his face between his hands instead. “Oh, baby,” he coos. “Baby, are you alright? Where’s this coming from?”

Steve shrugs because he doesn’t know. Not really. But it’s here. And he’s got a therapist in the aftermath of everything, and feelings deserved to be felt—so they’ve said. “I just—“ He wetly exhales, leaning into Eddie’s soft hands. “—I don’t know. It’s so fucking…I’m so happy to just be boring. To do the same mundane things every single day. To just come home.”

“Oh,” Eddie coos again. He tugs Steve closer, burying his face into his shoulder. Pets a hand through Steve’s own white hair. A hand between his shoulders. Letting him dissolve safely. “I am, too, Steve,” he states like a promise. “You have no idea how my heart just soars in the morning when I look over and you’re…God, you’re drooling all over your own forearm and snuffling deep into the pillow and your hair is all spiky and you’ve got creases all over your face from going to war with the top sheet.” Steve chuckles just as Eddie pulls him back. Hands back on his cheeks, thumbs soothing tear tracks. “You have no idea how relieved I am to look over and see you at peace, sweetheart. Every day—I don’t know how you do it—but every day you let me discover a new part of you to love.”

They smile at one another, softly, eyes shiny with tears. Their soup is going cold, but it doesn’t matter. They’ve got all the time in the world to reheat it.

“I love you,” Steve breathes, states. Just because he can.

“I love you, too,” Eddie says immediately. Because it’s that easy.

It’s easy when life is nothing more than this.

🥣—————🥣

[fattributes]

What kind of lasagna are we going to get? Are there any ingredients I should have left out or considered instead? Do you think the final results will resemble a real dish? Let me hear your predictions!

[extremelyblackandwhite]

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

author’s note: i got given a vinyl of go your own way/silver springs last week by my mum that she bought when she was younger, so i've been playing it time and time again and it bled onto this chapter.

masterlist

i know i could've loved you but you would not let me.

Bucky knew Y/N was upset. That's all he knew. He knew she'd come from her date and ever since she'd been quiet as a mouse and that was something considering Y/N gave her opinion anytime the opportunity presented itself. He'd even change the order her mugs in, to see if she would say something, instead she just grabbed a mug and went upstairs to her room whenever he was home to watch Sadie. If he was looking after Sadie, then Y/N would not be found for long stretches of time, instead looked into her bedroom with note and after note typing aggressively - a routine which made Bucky thankful he'd never pursued a PhD or anything other than a bachelors. He'd started to leave little snacks around her room whenever she went out, a pack of Oreos stashed in her nightstand, dehydrated mango slices from the brand she liked on top of her computer, little pots of coconut yoghurt. He knew she was always in that bedroom and he also knew she wouldn't come out no matter if it was breakfast, lunch or dinner.

He was sure there was only one person to blame - Christopher. Sure, Y/N and Bucky fought about it before she went on her date, they always did, but it never resulted in her becoming a hermit, locked in her room. As such, Chris was now enemy number one and Bucky was sure if HR discovered, he would get in trouble. He wasn't making the kid's life too hard, he was just making him work nights and overtimes and weekends. He'd also sent Chris on a coffee run. Yet Y/N continued in her little cocoon of sadness and tonight was no difference. Bucky had ordered Italian in and ended up the evening watching Beauty and the Beast with Sadie. The redhead had fallen asleep at the midpoint and as Bucky was ready to call it a night, he heard the soft steps of Y/N's coming down the stairs, holding a stack of plates and mugs. She was in her little white vintage chenille robe embroidered with blue and pink flowers, her hair up with a way too big claw clip and white fuzzy socks. If Bucky wasn't worried about her, he'd be wondering about what was under her robe.

      - You want some Italian? - Bucky got up to follow her from the kitchen. - I got some of that weird spinach pasta you like. Extra mozzarella balls just as you like.

      - No. - she placed the plates in the sink, starting to wash them with the cranberry dish soap that she always bought the moment the first autumn leaf fell.

      - You didn't come up of your little cocoon today. You know, the cleaning maid is wondering if I'm cutting your pay since you're keeping one bedroom and one bathroom hostage.

      - I can move to the guest bedroom. - she moved to grab a plate but the slippery porcelain slipped, crashing into a thousand bits to the ground. She sighed, her lip quivering and almost as if by seconds, she started crying.

Y/N went down to her knees, grabbing at the pieces of porcelain and shards, as if pushing them together would bring it back.

      - Y/N, shit, darling ... - he went back to his knees to put his hands on her arms to pull her up. - It's ok, don't pick them up, you'll get hurt.

      - I'm sorry. - she sniffled, her hands attempting to go and rub her eyes but Bucky stopped them in case she had little shards of porcelain stuck to her palms. - I'll clean it up, I promise.

      - It's fine. - Bucky kicked the big shards away. - What's wrong, Y/N? Is it Chris? Did he hurt you?

      - I'm gonna fail my viva. - she sniffled once more. - And I'm gonna have to go back to Ohio and I'm not made to live in Ohio.

      - Why would you go back to Ohio?

      - My parents bought a farm there after retiring. I am not Ohio farm material, Bucky. I'm afraid of horses.

      - Why would you even fail your viva? You're a smart woman, you're at a good university, you are okay. - Bucky wrapped his arms around her. - Probably not for long if you keep not eating. Go seat and I'll get you your disgusting pasta.

      - It is not disgusting. - Y/N rolled her eyes before making her way to the table. - Buck? Can I become your secretary if I fail my viva?

      - No. Your skirts aren't as short as I'd like. - he joked, bringing her pasta in a plate and pushing it towards her. - You're too fucking smart to be my secretary, if you were in my company you'd be CEO or something.

      - I worked my entire life for this. - she toyed around with her food, looking up with eyes still wet. - You know? I didn't come from legacy families or families who could actually afford to send me to college, I worked my ass off because I thought if I did I'd get somewhere. I'd be someone, I wouldn't have to count my pennies, I would be respected. Instead, everyone thinks I'm a joke on track to become your unfuckable housewife.

      - Now c'mon, if you do become my housewife, I would fuck you at least once a night. - he joked trying to lighten the mood but Y/N merely deadpanned at him. - Twice actually. You have a nice ass.

      - Not helping.

      - Because you're being ridiculous. You wanna know the reason I hired you? You had zero experience but you were smart and you were fiery and independent and I wanted my daughter to be like that.

      - You're just saying that because you're tired of bathing, Sadie.

      - I'm saying that because you're a great student and you're a smart woman. Besides, if they fail you, we'll just have to bribe the university. We'll donate a building for you.

      - You're not funny. - she swallowed in a giggle before taking the first forkful of pasta.

      - No, really, we'll get you a building. - he moved to seat next to her. - Maybe an astronomy one.

      - How swell.

      - I mean, maybe an astronomy building will be too much. Maybe a farming one.

      - God, I'm never telling you anything ever again. - she took another forkful of food. Bucky was glad he'd distracted her enough where she was eating, genuinely eating. - How's Sadie?

      - Sadie is doing well. She's supposed to go back to kindie next week but I was taking of taking her to the office for a bit. You know? I don't trust the roudy kids.

      - It's a private kindergarten. The senator's grandchild goes there, Bucky. I doubt they have their own fight club.

      - Have you ever seen a bunch of 2 year olds? They're terrifying and Sadie is a sensitive baby.

      - So you'll take her to a corporate office?

      - It's gonna be her company one day. Start them young. - he joked once more. - You want some ice cream? I tried to look for one that would be suitable for 2 year olds but then I came home and goggle it and they said I should blend frozen bananas instead.

Truth was, he'd bought a bunch of flavours thinking one would be Y/N's favourite and would entice her to eat something. That had ended up with him holding over 10 flavours of ice cream in his freezer. He came back with a selection of flavours he thought he wanted in a nice little dish. Y/N always liked nice little dishes.

      - Maybe I just don't belong, you know? - Y/N sighed. - In academic research. Most people come from well off families or are really smart, I'm just ...

      - You're just you. - Bucky said, leaning his chin on his hand to stare at her.

      - Yeah. I'm just me. Plain, old, me. Daughter of working class parents, me. Mediocre grade at masters, me. - she sighed once more, looking at the melting ice cream. - I can't even keep a relationship from falling apart.

      - Chris broke up with you?

      - I am not dating Chris so he can't technically break up with me. Besides, it wasn't like it would actually work.

      - I'm sorry.

      - No, you're not. - she looked at him, cocking her head to the side. - You'll probably be dancing in the grave of my situationship.

      - I don't dance, Y/N. I'm a respectable man. - he once again tried to make light of the situation. - What happened?

      - Guess I'm not suitable or good enough or don't do enough. One of the three. Whatever. - she chuckled dryly. - It was nice to have someone like me even if the me they liked was someone I'm not.

      - You act as if other people don't like you.

      - It's not that they don't like me but they also don't like me. You know what I mean? They put up with me, they are alright with me, they are cordial but they don't like me. They don't tolerate me.

      - I like you. - those words flew out of his lips like it was the most natural thing for him to say. As if he were stating an irrefutable fact like the sky looks blue or the Earth is round. - I like you. Just the way you are.

Y/N's lips parted as she waited for something to compliment the sentence. I like you just the way you are but less difficult, I like you just the way you are but prettier, I like you just the way you are but less argumentative, I like you just the way you are but as a friend. Yet those words never came and she found herself instead staring at the man in front of her, staring into those blue eyes like some sailor drawn to the sea.

      - Daddy? - Bucky recognised his daughter's voice. Bad timing, bad, bad timing.

      - Hey bug. - Y/N got up from her chair and walked up to the 2 year old, kneeling down to her level. - Are you alright?

      - Nightmare.

      - Aw that's awful, bug. I'll go and tuck you in and stay there while you fall asleep. Sounds good?

(...)

      - I'm telling you, Steve. I fucked up.

      - When you said we needed to have an urgent meeting, I didn't think this would be it.

Bucky had called Steve in London, the meeting screen showing Steve in his office. Yet, instead of one of their regular meetings to check with the state of the London office, it was Bucky talking to Steve. He'd fucked up, he'd fucked up badly and he'd only realise he'd fucked up once he woke up this morning and Y/N had left, leaving a note merely saying she had gone down to Ohio to be with her parents for a bit.

      - You just said you liked her, so what? At least you didn't tell her you loved her. It could have been interpreted differently.

      - You don't understand, Steve. I told her I liked her just the way she is.

      - Alright, Mark Darcy, pipe down. Have you considered that maybe, just maybe, Y/N wants to go see her parents because she hasn't seen them in ages? Maybe because she's upset and wants to be with her mum and dad?

      - I'm telling you, she's gonna quit.

      - She's not gonna quit, Barnes. She likes Sadie too much, besides, isn't she with Chris Davis anyway? - Steve leaned against his chair, staring at Bucky through his screen. - Just relax.

(...)

A week had gone by and Y/N woke up with the sun shinning on her face. Being here was different than being in New York, it was quieter, calmer and all the sounds she could hear were the wind and the animals allowed close enough to the main house. This wasn't her childhood home, her parents had bought it yet it was comfortable. The furniture was the same and the feeling of her home was still available, it made her calm. Things were ... too much right now and she needed to be away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

She moved herself to the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of tea and seating on the wooden chair with her feet on top of the seat. Her mother walked into the kitchen a few moments later, kissing the top of her head before sitting down next to her daughter.

      - Do you want me to make you some eggs, shortcake?

      - I'm okay, mum. - she smiled at her mother. - Where's dad?

      - I sent him out to get some groceries. I wanted to talk to you alone.

      - That's never good.

      - Shortcake, I love having you here. You're my only daughter and I love it when you come to visit but it feels like you're running away.

      - I'm not running away, mum. I just came to visit.

      - When you're 3 days away from defending your thesis? In the middle of the night? I've known you for 27 years, shortcake. You're not visiting, you're running.

      - I'm failing. - she sighed, with a scared laugh. - I've looked through my papers time and time again and in 3 days I'll make a fool of myself.

      - Y/N, c'mon. - her mother put her hand on her shoulder. - You said that about your undergraduate and your masters. You've never actually came to me and told me something is going well academically.

      - This is different. I've invested almost four years of my life into this and I'm just so tired. The thought of failing is just ... terrifying.

      - You've always doubted yourself, always put so much weight onto your own shoulders. You don't need to be the best, Y/N. You don't need to impress us or make us proud, we've been proud and impressed by you since the moment you were born. Running away here is not gonna solve how you feel and you, Y/N, have never been a quitter. - her mother caressed her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. - You gave it your best, that's all you can do.

      - There's more. - since she was airing out things, maybe she should talk about this. It wasn't like she could talk to her friends, she didn't have many and she couldn't talk to her colleagues about it either. - There's this guy.

      - Christopher?

      - Not Christopher. Another guy ... He told me he liked me and it just ... it freaked me out.

      - Do you like him?

      - I ... I don't actually know. I, I never really allowed myself to think of him like that. He's different.

      - How different?

      - I never considered ending up with someone like him, you know? He's not what I'd envision ever but he feels, he feels like the only person who seems me. He seems me not postdoctoral student Y/N, not who I may be if I succeed or if I fail. Just me.

      - Then what is the problem?

      - I think he also doesn't consider himself ending up with someone like me. I think .... I think I could love him but he would never let me because I'm not the ending that he pictured. I'm just not the one.

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