#eating this fic with sweet and sour sauce

[aphroditesswan]

AAAAAAAA IM ACTUALLY CRYING???

something stupid

content: barely any dialogue, pining gn!reader, reader isn’t the traveler, kazuha is just too popular and cool for his own good, ambiguous ending

song-fic!

On the occasions Kazuha and the rest of the Crux pays a visit to Liyue, you've always reminded yourself to make the most of your time together. Moments with him are always fleeting, slipping between your fingers before you ever get to properly enjoy them.

Perhaps you're no different from the rest of his acquaintances. Kazuha was, after all, quite the people-magnet. Whether it's the way the words that roll off his tongue were stories of their own or the fact that he always seems to treat everybody with a kindness that was too forgiving to be true, you couldn't deny you were a part of the crowd that was drawn to him.

Something in your heart, though, had always convinced itself that you were a special case. That the familiar butterflies in your stomach whenever you two interacted was a feeling unique to you and you alone.

Maybe, just maybe, he'd feel the same way too.

However, crushing with such a well-liked person had it's drawbacks. For him, returning to Liyue doesn't mean just catching up with you. It means greeting and conversing with every single person who approaches him, who offers him out to a meal, or for a round of drinks.

Compared to those requests, asking for a simple date with the samurai seems almost insignificant.

"i know i stand in line until you think you have the time to spend an evening with me."

Until, finally, you hit the jackpot. Kazuha even approaches you, asking if you'd like to go around the Liyuan marketplace tonight with him...

... and the traveler?

But, never mind that last detail! What's important is that you and Kazuha (and another person) are spending some time together.

And so you do. The markets are bustling that night as the true allure of the city really shines through. The evening is filled with mirth, even if the most you and Kazuha interact with is a simple brush of fingers or a gaze that lingers for too long. The chemistry was undeniable.

"and if we go some place to dance, i know that there's a chance you won't be leaving with me."

Well, that's what you'd like to think. However, competing with the Traveler of all people for someone's attention is like yearning for something you know isn't possible.

Maybe it was a bit selfish of you to want to outshine the hero of nations, but it wasn't hard to imagine.

In your most daring fantasies, Kazuha would have chosen your petals among the field of dazzling flora. He wouldn't have attention to spare to anybody else because it would all be focused on you.

But, for tonight, the Traveler’s thoughtful nature and frustratingly well-timed comments take center stage of Kazuha’s mind.

“then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place and have a drink or two.”

Finally, after all is said and done, the nightly excitement simmers down. Once the Traveler leaves for the evening, Kazuha invites you for a drink.

It was almost a dream come true: sneaking onto the Crux with him and stealthily snatching a bottle of wine from right under the captain’s nose, before finally sitting on the deck together under the moonlight.

(Well, considering Beidou’s intuition, she probably could tell.)

Either way, here you sit with Kazuha. Between tasteful sips of that bitter liquid courage, you steal glances at the samurai— a petty revenge for him stealing your breath. If he notices, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he hums an absentminded tune to himself that you swear gets engraved in your mind

Another moment passes.

You find yourself finishing your wine, the last few drops of the bitter juice slipping down your throat. Kazuha glances over at you and your empty glass before reaching to his side and silently pulling out the wine bottle you two are sharing.

To you, it was a sign. If he could tell what you want and need (even if it’s simply a serving of alcohol), perhaps that means he could tell your feelings as well.

So, in the darkness, as Kazuha begins pouring you another drink, you find yourself clearing your throat. You feel the words hesitate to come out before they eventually do, spilling from your lips messily. They felt awkward, out of place, yet it’s too late to take them back now.

“and then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like—“

“I love you.”

notes: oooo make up ur own ending oooooo 🌀🌀

if ass i apologize 🙏 my brain isn’t braining AND MY WRITING ISN’T WRITING :((

taglist:

@aphroditesswan

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

PLEASEEEE MORE POSSESSIVE JELOUS DRACO🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️YOUR BAD SANTA FIC WAS LITERALLY EVEYTHING. POSSESSIVE MEN GOT ME WEAK

thank you for the request!! hope this is satisfactory 🫶🏻

Flutterby Baby | D.M.

feat. Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Draco finds out another student sabotaged your Herbology project.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, draco’s pov, established relationship, possessive!draco, bullying, hurt/comfort, men suck, sort of rough fingering & piv, affectionate degradation if you squint (he refers to her as a plant), blood/fighting

masterlist

Draco watched as you pushed your pasta around your plate, staring absently at the whirls of sauce on the porcelain. You’d been quiet the entire meal, only speaking when directly spoken to by your group of friends, and even then, it was half-hearted, brief answers.

Both were unusual for his talkative, carb-loving girl.

He placed a light hand on your thigh, leaning closer to you. The warmth of your skin, the sweetness of your perfume, beckoned him even closer, but he ignored his impulses. “Everything alright, darling?” He asked, low enough that your friends couldn’t hear.

“Yes, just not very hungry,” you said in your pretty little voice, placing your hand over his and pecking his cheek.

He didn’t buy it. “I can track down some takeaway and we can eat in my dorm, if you’d like,” he offered, wondering if the commotion in the Great Hall was a bit too much for you.

You shook your head, another stunning development. You never turned down takeaway. “I’m fine, baby. Thank you, though.”

“Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll make one of these sod’s fetch it for you,” he teased, hoping to get a smile out of you. He didn’t.

Draco sighed, pressing a kiss to your temple before turning back to the conversation he was in the middle of with Theo and Pansy. He continued to watch you in his periphery as you started to play with his fingers, twirling his signet ring around and around. As much as he enjoyed the mindless contact, the delicate brush of your skin, he knew this was a nervous habit of yours.

He had half-a-thought to excuse you both, but he knew that would only draw more attention to your melancholy state, which would likely make you feel even worse. He could pick your brain later. Right now, he needed to make sure you were fed.

Casually, he picked up his fork, twirling a bit of his own pasta around the tines. Without breaking away from his conversation, he held the fork up to you, hoping you’d take a bite without really thinking about it. It was a small ritual the two of you developed during lengthy family dinners, something you often did automatically if he offered food to you. He felt you shift forward, your mouth wrap around the small bite, and you ate it.

He squeezed your thigh, a flare of affection making his heart pound. Good girl, he thought, but refrained from saying aloud.

The rest of dinner continued like that, Draco keeping your friends talking and distracted while he fed you small bites of his own dinner, your fingers twined with his in your lap. When he held up a bite and you gave small shake of your head, he knew it was because you were actually full, and he set his fork down, satisfied. For now.

That night in the common room, you were curled up in your chair by the fire, a book open in your lap while everyone pretended to study around you. He watched your eyes, your hands curled around the cover, and you were motionless. No pages turned, no lines devoured.

His worry deepened. Blaise seemed to notice as well, and gave him a curious look, dark brow raised. And of course, Theo caught the exchange, but turned back to his work, pretending he didn’t.

A prickle of suspicion climbed Draco’s neck. Typically, Theo was the first one to make a fuss over someone being in a sour mood due to his inability to tolerate negative emotions, but this time, he stayed silent.

Very odd, indeed.

But he could worry about Theo later. Draco lifted himself from the couch and walked over to you, dropping onto the floor in front of your chair. He tilted his head back, resting it against your shins. You reached down, dragging your fingers through his hair while you continued “reading” your book. He let his eyes flutter closed at the sensation, and tried to think of a way to draw you out of your head.

Lips pressed against his forehead, your perfume wafting over him, and he hummed in appreciation, reaching up to cradle your face. You leaned your cheek into his palm, and he titled his head back a little further to connect your lips in a soft kiss.

Your lips moved against his, brief and tender, and some of his tension unwound. It didn’t seem that you were upset with him, which was a relief. But, he wasn’t any closer to figuring out what exactly was troubling you.

“I’m going to go to bed,” you murmured in his ear, and he blinked in surprise, checking his watch.

It wasn’t even nine o’clock.

“So early, love? Are you feeling alright?” He turned to face you, rising to his knees. The group noticed, but he was too concerned to care. He placed the back of his hand on your forehead, your cheek, your neck, but you waved him away.

“I’m fine, D. Just tired,” you said, averting your eyes from his and rising from your chair.

“Baby—”

You leaned down and kissed him again, cutting off his protest. “I love you, I’ll see you in the morning,” you said, pecking his cheek one more time before walking towards the girls dormitory and ascending the stairs.

Draco slumped back to the ground, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“What did you do to her?” Pansy accused after a moment of tense silence.

“Nothing,” he snapped, though it was mostly toothless.

“She was acting strangely at dinner too,” Blaise noted. “She didn’t even have dessert.”

“Yeah, and she loves those chocolate things—what are they called?” Theo chimed in.

“Cauldron cakes,” Draco answered, glaring at them, irked that they were paying that close of attention to you. That was his job.

“Are you going to follow her?” Blaise asked, glancing at the stairs.

“No, he should give her some space,” Pansy said, giving him a pointed look.

“I’m perfectly capable of managing my girlfriend’s needs. Thank you,” he bit, and they fell quiet. He would leave you be, for now, but if you were still in a funk tomorrow evening, he’d be forced to intervene.

You were decidedly still unlike yourself come the following morning, and when he saw you during your shared Potion’s class. He continued to monitor the situation, trying to be patient like you often asked him to be, but that went out the window when you returned from your Herbology class with Theo in tears.

As soon as Draco saw your red and puffy eyes, he was on his feet. You ran straight into his chest, burying your wet face in his robes and digging your chilled hands into his back, trembling as your tears returned in earnest.

“Darling, what’s happened? What’s going on?” He cooed, wrapping his arms around your shaking torso, petting your hair in an attempt to soothe you. You didn’t respond, just held him tighter as you cried.

Theo tried to slip around the two of you, but Draco pinned him with a glare.

“What happened?” Draco hissed at him.

“Her Flutterby bush is dying,” Theo whispered, and you started to cry harder.

Shit. You’d slaved half the semester over this Flutterby bush in Herbology, it was your pride and joy, and you often stayed after hours with Professor Sprout to tend to it and the rest of the greenhouse. You had the greenest thumb Draco had ever encountered, and that plant was your baby. There was no way it would just suddenly die.

Draco raised a brow, and Theo made a ‘tell you later’ face. He nodded his head to dismiss his friend and turned his attention back to you, his poor, sensitive girl.

“Baby, it’s going to be alright. I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s going on—”

You shook you head. “It doesn’t make sense,” you sniffled, your voice muffled by his shirt. “It was perfectly fine. There’s no bugs or blights, I don’t understand.” You lifted your face, cheeks streaked with tears and lashes spikey, your eyes rimmed with red. The state of you made his heart ache.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispered, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs and pressing a kiss to your nose. “If anyone can save it, you can. You’re brilliant, love.” He used his sleeve to wipe your eyes and your nose before bundling you into his side. “Come on, relax for a bit with Pansy. That’ll help you think a little more clearly, yeah?”

You nodded, letting him deposit you on the couch beside your friend, who immediately abandoned what she was doing to fuss over you.

He kissed the top of your head, satisfied that you were well looked after for the time being. “I love you, I’ll be right back, okay?” He murmured, and you nodded again.

Theo was waiting for him in the hall. “Okay, so don’t get mad,” he said, holding his hands up.

Draco’s anger instantly flared. “Don’t give me a reason to get mad then.”

“She told me not to tell you because she knew you’d get all—” Theo gestured vaguely at Draco. “All…this.”

“Out with it, Nott,” he growled, fully prepared to punch his best friends nose through the back of his skull. What could you possibly want to keep from him?

“We think someone poisoned her plant,” Theo said, grimacing.

Draco froze, rage flaring so suddenly it darkened his vision. “What?” he snarled.

“We can’t say for sure yet,” Theo said hurriedly, trying to get ahead of the oncoming storm. “But there’s this one guy—”

“Who?”

“Reinhardt? Renfield? Something like that, I don’t know, he’s a Gryffindor. But he—Draco, where are you going?”

Draco was already halfway down the hall, formulating a plan in his mind about how to find this guy, and how to make him wish he’d never been born.

Theo grabbed his shoulder. “Listen, I have a better idea than storming the Gryffindor common room,” he said, and Draco paused.

“Go on.”

Draco loitered outside the Greenhouse, hidden by some trees, a stupid plastic ear in his hand. Theo had the other tucked into his robes, and Draco could hear Sprout beginning her lecture through their connection.

Draco sighed. This was ridiculous, he should just waltz in there and figure out exactly who this—

“Hey, y/n,” he heard someone mutter, an unfamiliar male voice, and he immediately held up the ear to listen. “Flutterby’s not lookin’ so good. Maybe I could help clear away some of the dead stuff?”

Draco's ears started ringing so loudly, he almost missed your response.

“I'm killing it just fine on my own, Renley, I don't need any assistance from you.”

He heard Theo snicker in the background, and Draco smiled. Atta girl.

“My mandrakes are thriving, thank you,” Renley replied, his voice tight with indignation. “It's a real shame about yours, though. Probably would have gotten you top marks.”

You didn't respond, and Draco gripped a tree branch to stop himself from charging through the glass to get this audacious fucker.

“Fuck off, Renford,” Theo warned, the feed clouded by his robes rustling.

“It's Renley,” the prick corrected, his voice a little louder, and Draco could practically hear Theo roll his eyes. “So, what do you say, sweetheart?” Sweetheart? Oh, this fucker was a dead man walking. “I'm willing to stay after and help you out. I'm good with poisons—”

“Poison’s?” You asked, a snarky lilt to your voice, and Draco loosed a relieved exhale despite the implication. For the first time in days, you sounded like yourself. “Who said anything about poison?”

“Oh, I—uh—”

“Reindeer, how did you know her plant was poisoned?” Theo prodded, his smirk audible.

“I don't! It's obv—it’s probably not p-poison!” Renley stammered.

“What's this about poison?” Sprout interrupted at the same moment Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle emerged from the treeline.

“Check fucking mate,” Draco mouthed, grinning.

“Professor Sprout, I do believe Renley here just confessed to poisoning y/n’s beloved Flutterby bush,” Theo said.

“Is this true, dearie?” Sprout asked you.

“Yes ma’am, it explains the strange phenomena we noted, as well as the sudden nature of the ailment. Renley’s been taunting me for days, and finally his mouth got ahead of his brain,” you said, poised as a Queen, and Draco was so proud of you it hurt.

Sprout gasped. “Mr. Renley! To Dumbledore's office this instant!”

“Crabbe, Goyle, grab him,” Draco ordered, stuffing the ear into his robes.

The two of them lumbered over the door, staying out of sight until the culprit stepped out into the sunlight, and Goyle grabbed Renley by the shoulders and started to drag him back around the Greenhouse.

“Hey! What the fuck—” his words pinched to a strangled whine when he saw Draco and Blaise waiting a few feet away, arms folded over their chests, completely hidden from the rest of campus.

Goyle shoved him to the ground at Draco's feet, and the coward was already sniveling.

Draco crouched down, nose to nose with the fucker that made his girl miserable, and smiled. “Was it worth it, Renley?” Draco asked, his voice low.

“Look, Malfoy. I didn't mean to—”

Draco didn't give him a chance to finish his paltry excuse and cocked his fist back, slamming his knuckles square in the side of his jaw. The bone crunched under his fist, sending Renley flying sideways in a spray of spit and blood, and Draco rose, clenching and unclenching his aching hand.

Normally, he'd step back and let the others get their hands dirty, but you were his girl. And if anyone was going to defend your honor, it would be him.

“No, no please!” Renley begged when Goyle hauled him back up. Draco punched him again, dead on the nose, then the temple, then the sternum. Goyle let Renley fall, groveling and weeping as blood ran down his face, his eyes already half-swollen shut.

Draco grabbed him by the hair, lifting his head up so he could whisper in his ear. “You're lucky it wasn't poison,” he snarled, and dropped Renley’s head into the dirt. “Leave him on the front steps of the castle,” he said to Crabbe and Goyle, who immediately pulled the boy up and started dragging him back towards the castle.

Blaise chuckled. “That was fucking brutal, mate.”

Draco looked down at his bruised and bloody knuckles, the pain bright and deliciously satisfying, his signet ring splattered with red. “Like I said, he's lucky I didn't decide to poison him.”

The chatter of students filled the air, and he looked up to see the Greenhouse emptying. Theo headed straight for them, glancing at Draco's knuckles and the blood in the grass before breaking out in a wild grin.

“Sorry I missed it,” Theo laughed.

“Where is she?” Draco asked.

“Staying behind to administer the antidote. Sprout is leaving her to ensure Renley is dealt with accordingly.”

“Well, she certainly won't be disappointed,” Blaise snickered.

“So she’s alone?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. He was hoping to clean himself up before seeing you, but wasn't sure he could resist the temptation. Not with his blood still running hot and your smart little voice echoing in his mind.

“Yep.” Theo smirked. “See ya’ back in the common room.” He and Blaise turned and started heading back to the castle, leaving Draco alone.

He rounded the greenhouse, knocking with his sore knuckles so he didn't startle you.

“Draco? What are you—saints, your hands!” You cried, rushing over to open the door for him. You grabbed for his hands, face pinched with worry.

“I'm fine, love,” he cooed, letting you fuss. The air in the greenhouse was thick and warm, coaxing him in like a embrace. It smelled fresh and lush, sweet soil and green leaves, like you.

Merlin, he couldn't think straight with you looking at him like that.

“Who did—” you paused, eyes narrowing. “Renley?”

He smirked. “Maybe.”

“Draco!” You huffed, dropping his hands. “I had it under control!”

“I know you did! You were amazing! I just...accelerated the consequences.”

You glared at him, but he could see you softening by the second.

“Baby, I'm fine. And he'll be fine in like, four to five business days.”

“Draco!” You shouted, but you were smiling. He fucking loved what you called his name in that exasperated but undeniably affectionate voice. “You don't have to get involved all the time. I'm perfectly capable of fighting my own battles, and Professor Sprout was working with me to solve it and—”

Draco reached out, pinching your cheeks with one hand, pursing your pouting lips and dragging you closer to him. “I'd do it again in a heartbeat. No one fucks with you so long as I'm breathing, is that clear?”

You nodded, eyes round and sweet like honey.

He released your face, sliding his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck and craning your head upwards. “Can I kiss you now? Or would you like to keep telling me off?”

You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a playful, smiley kiss. “Anything for my hero.”

“Anything?” Draco purred, walking you back into the long work table. You gasped, arching against his chest, and he caught the sound with another kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips to taste you.

Your tongue tangled with his, so eager as you pulled his tie to bring him closer. He guided your tongue into his mouth, sucking lightly before releasing you to bite your lip, toying with your mouth like he owned it.

And he could feel how much you loved it, your hips pressing against his as your hands wandered his chest, unable to pick a resting place.

He smiles, moving his hands to grip your hips. In a quick movement, he spun you around. Your hands slapped onto the table to catch yourself, your perfect ass pressing back against his rapidly hardening cock.

“Draco,” you whined, trying to look over your shoulder at him.

He tsked, sliding up your skirt, admiring the way his ruined knuckles looked against the soft flesh. “Do you want me to be gentle with you, darling?” He already knew what your answer would be, especially after a few stressful days, but he felt inclined to double check.

You shook your head side to side, pressing your ass back into his hands. “No.”

He smiled, squeezing the ample flesh, then delivered a swift slap that made you gasp. “That's my girl. You want me to scare away all those bad thoughts? Turn your brain off for a bit?” He slid his right hand between your legs, gliding two fingers over the damp spot on your panties.

You nodded, nails scratching along the wood when he applied a little pressure, moving his hand in a slow circle.

“Words, love,” he said, pausing his movement.

“Yes, baby. Please,” you whined, and his cock gave a painful lurch against his thigh.

“Colloportus,” he murmured, flicking his wand to lock the Greenhouse door. “Don't move,” he ordered, then walked over to the sink, washing the blood from his hands and muttering a quiet episkey to fix most of the damage on his skin. Some cuts remained, and his hands were still sore and slightly bruised, but it wasn't nearly as bad.

Satisfied, he turned his attention back to you, where you remained perfectly still, nibbling at your lower lip. In quick movement, he pulled down your panties, letting the fall around your ankles, and kicked your feet further apart, forcing you to lay your chest against the table.

“There we go,” he purred, bringing his hand back between your legs.

You were already soaked, hot and slick as his middle finger swiped through your sex. He started massaging your clit, quick, light circles that had you moaning breathlessly.

“Better, darling? Nothing to worry about besides being my good girl.” He moved away from your clit and eased his middle finger inside of you, his signet ring kissing your entrance before he curled his finger up. Your walls fluttered around him, sucking back against his finger when he pulled it out, only to graciously stretch for him when he added a second.

“Fuck, D,” you moaned, rocking your hips against his hand. “You said you wouldn't be gentle “

He smirked, enraptured with the way your pretty little cunt yielded for his battered hand. “Just so pretty,” he hummed, leaning down to whisper in your ear, pressing you harder against the table. “Can't help but worship you a little.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he slammed his fingers inside of you, drilling into your channel with sloppy, punishing strokes. You cried out, feet sliding around on the floor, but he had you pinned and at his mercy.

“This better, brat?” He growled, nipping at your ear when you keened for him, unable to formulate a response. “Oh, how that fucker wishes he could see you now,” he drawled, straightening while his fingers fucked into you. “What'd he call you? Sweetheart?” He chuckled. “Sweet doesn't begin to cover it.”

“How did you—”

He slipped his fingers out to work your clit, the bud swelling under his touch as your orgasm built, and your words twisted into a moan. He tried to stay focused, keep you on the edge until he was sheathed inside of you, but couldn't bring himself to stop just yet.

“Are you sweet, baby?” He asked, swatting your ass cheek, enjoying the way your flesh rippled.

“Only for you,” you gasped, starting to tremble as that knot wound tighter and tighter.

“That's right,” he praised, undoing his trousers and taking his cock in his hand. He was insanely hard, the head a deep pink, pearly precum beading from the slit. He pumped himself twice to relieve some of the ache, then notched himself at your entrance, not pausing his assault on your clit for a moment. “All fucking mine,” he growled at the same moment he thrust inside of you, burying himself to the hilt.

You cried out, muscles contracting hard around him, and he groaned low in his throat. You were so fucking tight, gooey and supple when you weren't squeezing the life out of him. He drew back a few inches before snapping his hips forward, gripping your ass cheek in his free hand to keep you spread for him as he pounded into you.

He felt your orgasm hit the second before you did, your cunt clamping down on him a heartbeat before you screamed, your whole body locking up before going completely limp. He didn't let up, no matter how much you shook, how much you begged. Your tears left damp spots on the wood, your knees trying to buckle inwards, but he planted his feet on the inside of yours, forcing you to stay upright.

“Good fucking girl,” he rasped, snaking a hand up your spine to grip your hair and pull your head back. “Doing so well for me, sweet thing.” He was panting, the heat of the greenhouse coupled with the exterior making sweat collect around his hairline and drip down his spine. His knuckles burned from the salt, hands ached from being used long past when they should have been bandaged, but he didn't give a single fuck.

“Draco, shit—fuck me so good.” You reached back for him, nails dragging along his forearm, and he felt himself teeter on the edge of release, his balls drawing up tight as liquid heat spread through his pelvis.

“Give me one more, baby. I know you can. Then I'll water my favorite plant.”

Your pussy clenched at his words, a wanton moan falling from your lips, and he smiled. You were such a little freak, his little freak, and he loved you all the more it.

“You like being my pretty little houseplant? All mine to take care of?” Fuck, he was close, rambling in an attempt to distract himself and spend just a little longer in the delicious heat of your body.

“Yes, yes—fuck!” You were coming again, your whole body convusling as it ripped through you, and he was done for. He came with a yell, hips stuttering against your ass as he pumped rope after rope of release into your spasming cunt.

“Bloody hell, baby,” he moaned, bracing his hands on the table as he came down, his hips involuntarily rocking into your greedy warmth. You, poor thing, were left drooling and trembling, completely boneless, held up entirely by the table and his hips. He leaned forward, pressing kisses into your hair. “Did so good, love. So fucking perfect,” he murmured, throat tight with affection.

“Squishin’ me,” you giggled, squirming beneath him, and he straightened, nearly toppling over himself at the weak feeling in his knees.

“Sorry, darling,” he chuckled, and you groaned, pushing yourself up on trembling arms. He moved his feet, letting you close your legs, and he hissed through his teeth at the new tightness around his softening cock, stealing a final thrust before slipping out of you.

“Mm, how did you know he called me sweetheart?” You asked, peeking over your shoulder at him while he grabbed his wand to clean you both up.

“I have my methods,” he replied, righting your clothes and helping you stand up, relishing in the lingering tremble in your limbs.

“Were you spying on me, Draco Malfoy?” You teased, tugging him down by the tie so you were face to face.

He smirked. “Perhaps.”

“What a horrible invasion of privacy,” you snickered, giving him a playful peck.

“You want to punish me for it?” He nipped at your lower lip and you grinned, pushing lightly on his chest.

“Enough you, I have to administer the antidote before my plant gets any sicker.”

“Good thing I already cured mine,” he teased, and you swatted him before slipping out of his arms.

“You're insufferable.”

“And you're adorable.”

You grabbed some items from the shelves and a watering can, then paused, turning to look at him, a deadly serious look on your face. “Can we get takeaway after this?”

He snorted, his heart doing a giddy little flip. “Of course we can.”

[anton-luvr]

hi!! love your works so i wanted to request a fic where y/n and her bf (riize member of your choice) of a few months are together and since it’s only a few months they are all sweet and cute, they didn’t really approach the idea of sex yet.. but he gets his first boner with y/n and at first it’s all awkward and shi but then it gets suggestive but they don’t go all the way yk because it’s their first approach to the topic. hope you understood the request and thank you in advance 😭💖

# CLOSER THAN EVER.

𖦹 bf!anton x fem!reader | fluff & HEAVILY suggestive 𖦹 note ; this is so anton coded no one can tell me otherwise... thank u anon!! its my first writing something like this and honestly,, i feel like this kinda sucks lol but i hope u like it :')

"Does this taste okay?"

Anton looks up from the bowl of ice cream he was holding to see you stretching a spoon of chocolate sauce towards him.

"It tastes kinda weird," you mumble, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "But it's not expired yet."

Anton licks the sauce off the spoon, concentrating on its flavor.

"Okay, that's definitely weird." he agrees, wincing as he's met with a gross combination of sour and sweet. "We are not going to eat that."

Laughing at your boyfriend's reaction, you turn away to toss the bottle into the bin.

"Here, eat some ice cream." Anton suggests, getting a spoonful for you. "It takes the taste right out."

You hum happily around the spoon at the taste of the sweet icy treat, excited to eat more during your movie night later.

"I'm so glad we got vanilla flavor," you sighed. "It's so go-"

And all of a sudden, Anton's lips are on yours, cutting you off.

His warm tongue moves and licks against your cold lips, sending goosebumps all over your body at the sensation.

"Y-You had ice cream on your lips." Anton mumbles when he pulls away, face burning red.

You're blushing too, but you laugh, finding it adorable.

"Maybe just say you wanna kiss me next time, hm?" you tease, wrapping your arms around Anton's neck.

The ice cream is long forgotten when the both of you lock lips again, Anton's arms tight around your waist as he slowly backs you against the kitchen counter.

"You look so pretty today," he sighs, brushing your hair aside and leaning down to kiss your neck.

It blows your mind at how when you first met Anton, he had been a blushing stumbling mess. Always avoiding your eye contact, stuttering endlessly, and always turning crimson red at any form of physical contact.

But now here you were, eyelids fluttering shut in pleasure while his teeth grazes softly against your neck. He doesn't stop even while leading you to the sofa, letting out a soft grunt when you straddle him.

Now, with the both of you heading into the eighth month of your relationship, you've achieved your fair share of milestones.

Starting off with the basics like holding hands and cuddling, you were now at the stage of hot and heavy makeouts, but nothing past that.

And since neither of you had any experience, both of you agreed to take things slow.

"When we're both ready," Anton had said back then to you, lips prettily swollen and panting from your first makeout session.

You wonder where he stands on the matter now, when something snaps you out of your thoughts.

Anton had stopped his actions, his flushed and shy face buried in your chest instead. "W-What's wrong?" you ask, dazed and confused as you run your hands through his hair.

He doesn't say anything, merely shifting around a bit to let you feel it.

You gulp when you do, eyes widening at your boyfriend.

"Is that- Are you...?" you mumbled, flustered.

He burns in embarrassment as he nods, nervously biting his bottom lip. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for it to... do that, you just look so pretty today and you sounded so-"

It's your turn to cut him off for tonight, kissing him strongly on the lips.

"Don't apologize, it happens." you whisper.

"And... I can help you out if you want?" you offer, looking at him warily.

Anton's eyes widen at your question, and he manages to muster a small "Y-Yeah, please.", desperation heavy in his tone.

He's barely gotten the words out of his lips when you kiss him again, hips experimentally moving against his.

The curly haired boy lets out a loud whine at this, head falling back on the sofa, and you've gotten your green light.

Airy whimpers and moans slowly fill your living room as you continue, the pleasurable friction making Anton's head spin while you kiss each other messily and noisily.

Adrenaline courses through you while his hands feel you up, newfound pleasure burning like fire at wherever his fingertips touched.

"F-Feels so good," Anton pants, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

He starts leaving hickeys again, the sharpness of his teeth and warmth of his tongue adding on to the pleasure. "Don't stop, please." he whines.

And so, you don't.

The movie becomes the last thing on your minds as you spend the rest of the night just like that; lips connected, hands exploring each other, repeated confessions of love, and hearts racing - closer than ever.

© anton-luvr, 2023.

[aboutkiyoomi]

onigiri cravings | osamu m.

who knew i could crave people more than onigiri...

timeskip!osamu x f!reader

warnings: language, mature-ish themes, EXTREEMMMEEE pining, loser osamu miya, stupid silly love story, a little bit of forced proximity, oblivious reader (like almost completely blind), slow burn ! a tad bit of angst/ hurt, a bit of akaashi x reader moments.

specific cw are at the beginning of every chapter !

extras: soundtrack , yn's vibes ⚕️, samu's vibes ❦

notes: i wanted to do a gen fic so bad along with my smau so that i have consistent breaks from both and i can adapt a posting schedule ! i LOVEEE this plot, like i love this fic. i hope u all love it 😚😚😚! - milani

taglist open! comments, asks and message me to be included.

[m. list]

prelude

001. when life gives you lemons

002. apple of my pie

003. bittersweet chocolate chunk

004. love at first bite

005. lost in the sauce

006. cryin over spoiled milk

007. full plate

008. sweet like suga'

009. have my cake and eat it too

010. sour grapes

011. half-baked

012. peas in a pod

013. put your eggs in my basket

014. bleh, gross

015. so, my cup of tea

016. cherry picking

017. sweet aftertastes

018. the peanut butter to my bananas

019. hot n spicy

020. my biggest craving yet

[twstyuna]

Once upon odd oneirisms

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Yuu/MC

Summary: Riddle can't play with his friends anymore, so he doesn't. He's to focus on his studies now, so he will. He'll follow Mother's schedule- he'll study, eat, and sleep as he's been instructed to. He's not quite sure where the stranger in his dreams fits into all that.

Notes: Spoilers for Riddle's backstory, warnings for what having a very strict doctor-mother may entail. In other news this may be kinda OOC compared to the other fics in this series. It's been a while i just wanted to be able to write something/anything.

Masterlist of Such Meetings

There is something wrong when Riddle's playing croquet with his friends, because he's not allowed to play with his friends.

He doesn't have the self-study free time for it anymore. He's not allowed to even meet them.

But he's playing with them, right here, right now, and even though he says he should go home, because he's running out of time and could get himself and Trey and Che'nya in trouble (and has), he doesn't. The smiles are as sun-bright as the laughter and even if he hasn't won a single match from all the changing rules, he can't bring himself to care. When Trey's parents call them over for a break, he finds himself before a table loaded with sweets, the delightful desserts displayed in a delectable array, their syrups and sauces and sugary dust glittering like jewels in the golden afternoon.

He's about to bite into a tart when Che'nya and Trey call him back to their game of croquet. It's unfair how quickly they finish their shares, but Riddle can forego even these treats if it means he can spend some more time with his friends. He has to excuse himself from the table first, only-

Only he doesn't quite know how to address the head of the table, right now. The figure isn't Mother, or the Clovers. It's a stranger. He hasn't sat himelf on someone else's table, has he? Didn't Trey make these treats to share with him and Che'nya? Was this one of their friends?

He's pondering what to do about his dilemma when the figure tilts her head as she points at his plate, which seems rather rude.

"Does it taste like anything?"

The tart should. It's the sweetest thing in the world. But Riddle can't taste a crumb of it now. It doesn't smell like anything either, not sugar or strawberries or buttery crust, no matter how much he chews. He furrows his brows.

"Tastes like air doesn't it?" The girl sighs, tipping her cup, its contents spilling onto the table. "Always does. Or spit. And they're so pretty too. . .what a shame."

Riddle glares. She's the uninvited guest here. She plopped herself down on his table and is making an absolute mess. She must have stolen the tart's flavor and fragrance.

He opens his mouth to scold her but no sound comes out. His hands fly to his throat.

Did she steal his voice as well?

She frowns. She says something else, probably just as rude, but the words are lost as Riddle's eyes snap open.

A sound escapes him, the beginning of some angry thing, some sort of retort, but he quickly claps his hand over his mouth.

Still, Mother hears him as she passes by his room. She'a surprised to see him awake already, but decides that they can start the day early. He has things he has to catch up on, after all.

Riddle can't remember what woke him up. Or what he meant to say. Or who he meant to talk to at. As he eats the light, measured breakfast Mother's carefully prepared for him, he thinks it tastes a little like air, light and bland as it is, and he wonders why the thought so suddenly sours his mood.

~ ~ ~

"Oh. Oh this is odd."

He's in a field of fire, which is odd, but the source of the voice is looking at him like he's the strangest thing here.

"I've heard that you need to see a face before you dream it, that it counts even if you've only seen it for a second on a street, or in a picture. But that hasn't really included dream-people for me, before now. I wonder where I dreamed you up from. You don't look very real. Your hair is too red. Your eyes are too bright. You seem more like a prince in a picture-book, than a real person."

He says he is real. At least he thinks he does, but it feels like he's speaking through water. He must have said he is real, because she looks like she heard him, tilting her head at the words. He also says that she is on fire.

She just hums. "Wouldn't be the first time."

She mumbles something, about firetrucks and documentaries, as she moves deeper into the burning house. He follows to pull her out, but he can't see a thing. There's no smoke, just too much light that doesn't burn his eyes though it should. It's all nonsense. Was there a building before? Of course there was, there was always a building. What building is it then?

Oh, it's his house. Of course it is. He's lived here forever. There's the flamingo-chair on the ceiling that he turned into a chandelier. He knows that if he opens the fridge, he'll find one bowl of strawberry soup on the second level, and he does. He can't really check now though, because fire. He should get a bucket. He should put out the fire, because houses should not be on fire-

"You're slipping," she says simply, and suddenly, he thinks himself silly.

Of course this isn't his house. It only has a single floor in it. His mother's framed pictures are nowhere to be found. His house doesn't have a croquet-room. He'd never be so foolish as to let his house be set on fire. Did she do it then? She's the only other one here, she must have set on fire this house that is his house and that isn't his house-

"You're very bad at this," she hums. "Or very new."

New at what? He can't tell if he's speaking or if she's just carelessly plucking the thoughts from his head.

Whichever way it is, she smiles. "If I tell, you'll lose."

That's not fair. Of course he'll lose a game if he doesn't know he's playing one.

. . .what are they playing again? Is he even allowed to be playing? The grandfather clock's chiming, it's time for his lessons-

"Good luck with them," she says.

He can still hear her voice as he finds himself in bed.

~ ~ ~

Wood is surprisingly comfortable.

Riddle watches books fly by as he sits up in the eighty-second level of the shelf. It's not too bright, not too dark. It's not too low, or too high. Among the one thousand seven hundred and eighty-three levels of his shelf, he thinks he has a pretty good one.

He takes a book from the pile around him, looking between shifting images and letters and the world between the shelves. More bookshelves rise in the distance. He wonders how many of them hold people like him.

His pile of books is plentiful, but more seem to pop up, like mushrooms after a storm. He frowns as he pushes a stack of them to the side, careful not to let them fall.

One tumbles over the edge anyway.

"Ow."

Oh dear-

He scrambles to peer over the side. A girl looks up. Her frown disappears at the sight of him.

"Again. Really?"

He asks what she means.

"I really have to wonder why I keep thinking of you. I mean, I suppose I think of you because you appear, but then that means you keep appearing because I think of you. That's not supposed to be how that goes."

How what goes? How would she know anyway?

"Maybe you don't know," she says. "But I do."

That doesn't sound right. Why would she know more than him? He knows now, that the regiment Mother's made for him isn't the norm, but it's something she tailor-made to help him succeed. How could this stranger know more than him after all he's learned? She's not surrounded by books, she's not studying-

Oh, what is he doing? He should be studying ! There's an exam in only a few minutes, and he isn't able to remember a single formula yet-

"What a dull life you have."

He glares at her. She's sitting at his shelf level now, legs swinging over the dizzyingly-high ledge.

"Books, books, books. Study, study, study. Are you even really resting?"

He doesn't need fo rest, he gets plenty of it. His schedule gives him exactly eight hours of sleep every day.

"You shouldn't have to care about that right now. You won't remember any of what you're looking at anyway."

He can and he will - he knows the proper way to study and test his memorization and understanding-

"Oh for goodness' sake!"

Then the books are gone. Not knocked over, not scattered, but nowhere. Every single one of them. He looks around himself, distraught. However will he study now?

"You don't. That's the point."

He turns his eyes to her. She did this then. His blood begins to boil-

"Upupup- none of that !"

His thoughts stutter. He stiffens as she leans into his space.

"If you get mad, you lose."

"I don't have time for games! "

She blinks. Then beams. "So you can speak!"

Of course he can speak. Why wouldn't he be able to? Why hasn't he? It's not breaking a rule in this library, is it? Wait, wait he's suppose to be quiet when he-

"None. Of. That."

Her fingertip taps the top of his nose, punctuating each words. The nerve-

"Look, it's your friends!"

He huffs. Did she think he was an idiot? Why would Trey and Che'nya be-

He's tackled from behind the way only the cat would tackle him, and when he turns all he sees is a fading smile. Trey calls him over with a grin. They stand on a lawn, croquet mallets at ready.

Oh. Oh it's his turn! He moves right over and gives the hedgehog a good thwack. It scrambles over Trey's green one to reach the arc and victory sweeps him into a grin-

"This is better than studying, isn't it?"

Riddle blinks. He glances at her. There's a girl, some irritatingly familiar face. He doesn't know why she annoys him so much. If the irritation is because it's her or how she's right. (Right about what though? Aren't they strangers? What's she doing here, with his friends? Is she-)

She smiles back, like a friend. "You can have them all the time, if you want. You just have to. . ."

Her words fade away, though he tries to listen, because it's polite to listen. Because he wants to know. He opens his eyes and vainly shuts them again. He buries his face in the pillow. Sometimes, his dreams continue when he wakes up too early and goes back to sleep. Isn't hasn't been too long, he can still dream. He can-

He can do nothing but flush in embarrassment as Mother storms in. He's usually dressed by now, but he's still rolling bed. His eyes are red- she's told him not to scratch them if they itch!

He apologizes. He quickly dresses and eats his breakfast.

He must have overslept, but he feels so tired.

~ ~ ~

"Hello."

A girl smiles at him like an old friend, like a child of one of Mother's friends dragged along to meet him. She's better at looking enthusiastic than those kids though.

"Hello," he says politely.

"Do you remember me?"

. . .Oh. Oh he's usually good at this. It's been a long time since his mother's had to wear a smile and say his nose is too buried in books to keep names in his head.

Her smile falters a little. "Well, shouldn't expect much from something I might have imagined, I suppose. But anyway! Want to have some fun?"

Fun? No. No, he's busy. Dreadfully busy with-

Papers. Making notes, from the looks of things. A quill is in his hand and so are stacks of parchment so high they sway.

"Why don't you draw?"

Draw? Whatever for?

"For fun!"

He doesn't have time for fun. Can't she see that? He has so much to catch up on-

"And done!"

"What?"

"Done," she replies. And the paper pillar is indeed gone. That's not right, he was supposed to do that-

"Doesn't matter. Hey, won't you draw something?"

"Why should I?"

She hums. "Because you owe me?"

"Why would I owe you anything?"

"Your done with the papers, aren't you?"

He would have liked to finish that on his own time, with his own skill, but if she did all that for him. . .he must be in her debt.

"Alright," he says, and he thinks her her smile falters for a bit. He turns his eyes to the paper. "What do you want me to draw?"

He might not be very good at it-

"It's alright if you're not," she says, and it flickers a memory of a thought of an instinct into his head.

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

She tilts her head. "Because I want to. Can't you hear me thinking?"

He shakes his head. He thinks he does, anyway. Everything feels fuzzy.

"You can if you want to," she says. "You can do anything if you want to. That's how this works."

"How what works?"

She looks at him for a long while, or maybe just a second. Time is so strange.

"I hope I see you again," she says. "Or make you up again. You're interesting."

"Can't you ever answer me straight?"

She sighs a little, and mumbles an answer too soft.

"What?"

She leans close and looks his face without looking at him, the way Mother looks when she's studying something.

"How dreaming works, silly," she says at last.

Dreaming. Dreaming? So this is all in his head, and he's actually asleep? So he's-

He's awake in his bed. It's dark still. Night-dark, not dawn-dark.

He's dreaming. He was dreaming. He woke up, but he has fragments of nonsense in recent memory, so clearly, he dreamed. He saw something before he woke up. But something about the word-

Dreaming. Dreaming. Was he dreaming about dreaming? How peculiar.

He drifts back to sleep, thinking about dreams, but he can't remember a thing when he wakes up again, daylight filling his eyes.

~ ~ ~

He's in the library. He's always in the library, these days.He has to study, but the books are too heavy to carry back and forth, and Mother likes things in their proper places. These books seem to go on forever though- does he have to read them all? He reaches up to start on one related to a topic he thinks he remembers, but it falls, and something like a puzzle piece falls too and jostles a thought.

Hasn't this happened before?

A library like this, a book like this. The only thing missing-

Something else happened right?

He should study. He should. But he can take a moment to think, can't he? There's something, someone-

"Oh. It's been a while."

The upper half of a girl dangles from the shelf above him. It doesn't look like a particularly comfortable position, but she seems at as much ease as a lounging cat.

"I know you," he says.

She humphs. "Do you?"

"I think so, yes."

"I think so. . .well, I think you up, you think me up- I guess that's as good an answer as we'll ever get."

He frowns. He's not very fond of answers like that. He scores better at clear-cut, objective items like true-or-false and multiple choice.

"You always have exams on the brain, don't you? You're always studying."

"It's good to be ready."

She waves a hand dismissively. "This isn't good for anything."

Something hot sparks in his chest. "It's good for me."

"It just looks sad from where I am."

He glares. She smiles beside him. When did she-?

"But I'm glad to see you again- I wonder what kind of thought you are."

What does that even mean?

"Whatever you want," she says. "Don't think about it too much though. You think too much already."

"Better than never thinking like you."

It's rude, childish venom. And he's spat it at a girl. Remorse bites him immediately. If she tells on him, Mother will-

She laughs. "I won't tattle. I'm not a snitch. I couldn't if I wanted to anyway."

That's a relief. It is a relief, isn't it? Still, he should apologize-

"It's fine. I don't care."

It would be nice if he could just stop caring too. But he has things to do. He has to things to think about- lesson plans and tests and-

Then, he's in a garden. There are flamingoes and hedgehogs and crooked, striped loops on the ground.

"Is this what you like?"

He blinks. The world seems wobbly, somehow.

"I don't know how this all works. Is it a game? Can you teach me?"

"Teach you what?"

"This. The thing with-" she mimes something like a golf swing. "You uh, hit the hedgehogs right?"

He looks again, at the place they're in now. ". .this is croquet?"

"Is it?"

"It doesn't look right."

"What would make it look right?"

He tells her. A tricky but reasonable path. Differently-colored flamingoes and hedgehogs. A gentle tap to send the creatures rolling harmlessly through hoops. She's not very good at it, but he wasn't either when he started.

"This is hard."

"You'll get better with practice."

Her hedgehog scampers away into a bush. She pouts. "This is fun to you?"

"It's better with more people."

"Like your friends?"

He isn't as sad as he usually feels, when he thinks about them. His feelings seem like they're swimming through syrup to get anywhere.

"You can make them."

"Hmm?"

"Think about your friends. What are they like?"

What they're like? They're nice. They're warm. They're golden afternoons and playful shoving and cheering and tag and croquet. Stories and sneaking out and-

"Riddle!"

Arms surround him. Two pairs of golden eyes meet his. Their smiles- Trey's and Che'nya's- are infectuous. He feels a little like crying. His friends don't mention it, if tears do fall. They pull him along to-

Wait. Wait there's-

There's a girl in the garden, watching them. She looks at them without looking at them.

She looks familiar, somehow.

"Hello," he says. "Do you want to join us?"

She blinks, then looks at him for a long while. It should feel awkward, the silent staring, but it doesn't. Something about inviting her feels right, like a favor for a favor.

". . .do you want me to? I'm very bad at it."

"You'll get better with practice."

She smiles, just a little. "Maybe you'll get better at this too."

He helps her up. "At. . .?"

"Nothing," she replies, smiling impishly. "A-ny-way~ these are your friends? They look stranger than you."

"What's so odd about them?" And what's so odd about him?

She gives him a look. "One had green hair and the other has kitty ears."

"That's unusual to you?"

"I suppose not. Not here, if they're not to you. Can you introduce me to them?"

He does. She introduces herself too, but her name slips from his mind every time he tries to call it.

Later, when he's awake, much later when he's finished dinner, he has a fleeting thought about Trey and Che'nya as he eats fresh, plump strawberries for dessert, and he feels like he's missing a name, though he's quite sure it was only ever the three of them.

~ ~ ~

He never remembers her name. Not when dreaming and definitely not when awake, but one day he wakes up, and he remembers her.

He can't recall her name, or her face or anything that would be that helpful or concrete a memory, but he remembers that she was there. And he recalls other dreams, for a moment. He grabs a piece of pad paper from his desk and writes that out, that he dreamt of Trey and Che'nya and of someone else, a strangely familiar figure.

Other snippets of dreams trickle into memory. A fourth member in games, or a mere spectator. A presence, not constant but not rare. Recollections like snapshots of looking at someone beside him that isn't either of his old friends. It's not any of the daughters of Mother's friends. It's no one he can remember seeing in anything but the nonsense in his head.

He tucks the note in his dresser drawer, and now and then he notes another sighting of her. The lines fill the sheet, and then another, and another, and he rolls up the bundle to tuck away at the very back of the drawer's space.

It's all nonsense, and Mother would prefer he focus on his studies.

~ ~ ~

"I remember you, sometimes."

She hums beside him on the cliff, watching birds race around a bonfire as the tide washes in. "Do you now?"

"Not a lot. I don't even remember you a lot here. But I think I know you exist when I'm awake."

"How nice, that I exist."

". . .do you remember me?"

She spins her finger, and somewhere beyond the briny beach, a whirpool forms. "I remember everything. Not sure if I believe everything though."

"What's there to believe?"

She smiles at him, and he wishes he could remember it as easily as he can remember Trey's and Che'nya's. You should be able to remember the way a friend smiles.

"That you exist," she answers.

"You still don't think I do?"

"That there's a boy with hair as red as you, in a world with magic and mermaids and beastie people?"

"I believe you exist, and you live in a world without magic."

"If you believe in magic, then of course you can believe in anything."

"You dream and do whatever you want in them. Why can't you believe me?"

She huffs and stands to balance on the edge of the cliff ledge. She's not in any real danger (she's better at this whole lucid dreaming matter and conjuring whatever she likes, be it wings or a giant cushion or a soft landing on water hundreds of feet below, and this is a dream), but it still makes him flinch.

"I believe I made you up. And that I made up world like that through someone I made up."

"I'm only ever just a thought to you then?"

She smiles and steps on air to smile down at him. He kicks his legs in the empty space, in waves of a tidepool. She notices the shift and laughs. "Scaredy-cat."

"One who doesn't exist apparently. If I'm just a thought in your head, then your head's telling you not to do such dangerous things."

"Dreams are dreams. Let me do what I like!"

"I don't know how you haven't fallen off a cliff in real life, when you're so used to recklessness."

"Dreams are dreams," she repeats. "And you're here, so I know it's a dream."

She always says it with such finality, that he doesn't exist, and she won't exist to him soon enough, that they'll never see each other outside of a dream nobody really remembers the owner of anymore.

"You should still be careful."

She sighs. "You're still such a bore."

"So why are you here?"

She can walk off if she wants to. She has. He's disappeared on her before too, and kept dreaming elsewhere. Sometimes he's done it on purpose.

The girl shrugs. "It's nice, I guess."

"The seaside?"

The water feels like nothing between his toes, but it sparkles in the setting sun. He imagines some clouds, and cottony masses dot the horizon. He imagines a lighthouse somewhere on a shore, and the structure stands tall somewhere on a outcropping of stone.

She sits beside him, watching what he's forming.

"That you exist," she says. "However much you exist, anyway."

~ ~ ~

He's slipping.

It starts when his practice tests come back just shy of perfect marks when they used to be nothing but straight hundred-percents. His mind drifts when he's given blank boxes for essays. His Unique Magic accuracy seems to be faltering too.

Mother doesn't know what's wrong. She says she does, telling him not to fret and that she'll handle everything, but Riddle can catch the worried weight pulling down her smile. There is something wrong with him, but she doesn't know what.

It's his fault, surely. He must have done something wrong, but he doesn't know what. Mother's giving him the right diet and the right routines and habits. He's taking it all as instructed- the meals he has no appetite for, the medicine as bitter as it is, the lessons that-

He feels listless, yet he's so tired these days. It's too easy to fall asleep. To wake up only to close his eyes again.

It's lazy of him. It's terrible of him. But he's so tired.

After a particularly sudden nosebleed, Riddle's a little happy that Trey and Che'nya can't see him like this, looking so weak. He's a little sad that Trey and Che'nya can't see him like this too. Mother loves him and takes care of him, but it would be nice to have friends fret over him like in storybooks. He shouldn't ask that though. He wouldn't like Mother to think he got sick on purpose just to see them.

~ ~ ~

"It's me, isn't it?"

Riddle pauses. He meant to build up to it, to ask after he's said something.

"You think it's me, anyway."

The world boils around them, snippets of spaces flickering like wisps of steam out a tea kettle.

"You're being ridiculous. How can I make you sick?"

He's tired. When he's tired, he wants to sleep. When he sleeps, he dreams. She makes him want to sleep longer when he wakes up, sometimes. When he closes his eyes after waking, he sees her now. She might not mean to do it, but-

"I don't have magic. I'm not a witch!"

But thunder crashes as rain does. A soft void crawls around him, and he feels a lingering dread.

He's being reasonable. He is. He has to try everything, because he wants to get better. He needs to get better. He needs to be a healer and he needs to get into a good school for that, he needs to have good grades to get into a good school, and he needs to study to-

"It's always studying with you."

His limbs feel heavy. His voice won't come out. There is someone in front of him, there was something he was supposed to say-

"You don't want to see me anymore," she says, plucking the thoughts from his head. The idea's not as terrifying as it should be. The girl doesn't look scary, despite how dangerous everything should be right now, rippling and raining. Despite how frozen he is, unable to do anything but stand and stare as he does when Mother scolds him. Dread (it's dread isn't it? Fright, fear) drips and-

He stands in a garden. A croquet court is set up. It's silent, despite the birdsong he should be hearing. It's cold despite the golden sunlight.

There is someone in front of him. She's familiar, but he can't put a name to it.

"Fine," she says, and something about it makes him as mad and sad as she sounds. Why is she even mad at him? He didn't do anything wrong, he only, he just. . .

. . .he did something, didn't he? . . .why does he feel so rotten?

She turns to leave the garden. "I'm too old for imaginary friends anyway. Get well soon! Have fun with your real friends! I hope all your dumb grades make you happy-"

He doesn't know why he reaches out for the stranger, but he does. Why did he? Why is she here? Did she drop something, did she steal something from the court- there must have been a reason-

She looks at him for a second and an eternity.

Then, she makes a bitter smile and a laugh just as melancholy.

"I can't believe I made up such a dumb story. This is so stupid it's sad."

Before he can think about it, his eyes are caught by a flash of green and purple. His hands clutch nothing as his friends wave at him on the court.

It's his turn, so he flushes a bit from making them wait and runs over. A hedgehog had run away. He didn't manage to catch it but-

Someone whispers, something, maybe a goodbye or sweet dreams, but he doesn't get to turn his head because Trey dashes by him with a cheerful cry of "Tag! You're it!" and he's caught up in the mad dash for Che'nya's tail before the boy can clamber up a tree again.

It's a grand time. It must be, because Trey and Che'nya are there. But he feels the way he does when he's passed a paper and thinks he forgot to check the back for second page of questions, even though he knows he did check.

He wins the game, whatever game it was, something with cards. When he wakes up feeling terrible, it must just be because he misses the other boys.

~ ~ ~

His appetite returns, and so does his focus and energy. He gains an inch over a few weeks, and told he's still growing. The growth spurt ends somewhat abruptly on the earlier side of the average range, but that just means he can fit into all the clothes he had the previous year. Without the need for another round of shopping, he can dedicate himself fully to his studies.

There was something wrong with his diet. Mother says he's growing faster than she anticipated, and that she should have increased his portions sooner. His immune system can recover. Bit by bit, he gets better.

His reaps the rewards for his efforts. He's consistently the top of his class in junior high and passes magical proficiency exams with flying colors. He's an expert at his Unique Magic while his peers have yet to uncover theirs.

It's only natural that he is invited to Night Raven College.

The sleepless nights and countless hours of study were worth it. Mother's rules, the strict regimen, the tears, the tiredness- all of it led him to this victory. He just has to keep it up.

The invitation, expected as it is, brings a proud smile to Mother's face. It turns warm when he assures her he intends to conitnue his streak of excellence. He's done the research, and he's quite certain he'll be in Heartslabyul. With his mastery over his UM, becoming the prefect will be child's play.

He does becomes head of Heartlabyul with relative ease. Leading it to excellence is a bit harder, but Trey is a wonderful surprise and a great help at his side over the first year of his rule. Cater too is useful, his Unique Magic being what it is, though he could work on his laziness. He strives for excellence always. His sets high standards for his dorm, nothing he himself couldn't reach without reason. He is very reasonable- he follows the rules, he studies, he leads.

The first year he heads an entrance ceremony isn't as perfect as it could be, but he does his best to get things in order. An unruly cat cannot ruin his plans. The monster's suspected master is a disruption too, but isn't his concern as long as they're not Heartslabyul or hindering those of his dormitory.

(Still, those eyes linger. They burn the back of his head as he exits the chamber, and though the flames weren't blue, he thinks of a field of fire, of the faceless, formless scribble of a figure in papers he found when cleaning out his drawers when he first packed for NRC.)

Riddle doesn't know if the strange boy is a hindrance quite yet, when the fellow's tangled bimself up with the monster after all and two of the Heartslabyul freshmen too. They're a troublesome set, Ace Trappola and the monster especially, but he can handle it.

He can handle it. He always has, he always can, he always will, yet he's failing somehow, because so many others are failing, because nobody will just follow the rules-

He's doing what's best for the Heartslabyul, he's following the rules so why. . .!

He is humiliated, pelted with trash. And that student that dragged in Heartslabyul freshmen, that nobody, that bad influence, the interloper, he-

He looks at Riddle like he doesn't know a thing. With a curious smile and eyes that say You're slipping so clearly that he hears-

The magicless student has bruises after the incident, and a scar where Riddle tried to gouge those impudent eyes out in his Overblotted frenzy. The student was good at drawing Riddle's ire, at keeping his focus on them as the others helped cut Riddle down from his inkstained throne before it could run red with anyone else's blood.

In the infirmary, the student doesn't particularly seem to care that he spilled hers, or that her secret is out. The girl looks at him as she always has, with achingly familiar eyes and a smile like a friend. Her voice isn't quite as light as it used to be, but he knows it nonetheless, especially now that she's not deepening it.

There's a face to those scribbles now, the reason he hadn't thrown out those pages of nonsense.

"Do you remember me?" she asks, curious and smiling, and for the first time in Riddle's waking life, he truly does.

[dannystheone]

do you think you would ever write a shippy fic about stan and kyle?

Yes absolutely!

I aged them up in this one just to make it more comfortable, and it’s September which is pretty much October and October means Halloween so have this scary-themed drabble! :)

ALSO THIS IS OUR 20TH SOUTH PARK FANFICTION ON THIS BLOG!! THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR LETTING ME WRITE FOR YOU GUYS AND REACH THIS MILESTONE!!

I hope you enjoy :)

WARNINGS: Cursing!

Keeping Kyle Distracted! (Lee Kyle/ Ler Stan)

One little-known fact about Kyle Broflovski: He can’t take horror movies in any capacity, especially jump-scares. Stan is going to have to get creative on how they can sit through this scary movie marathon!

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

“DUDE! She’s totally ripped open! Turn it off!”

"Aw come on dude, it's not so bad. It's just ground meat and tomato sauce."

"That's even worse!"

Kyle was invited to Stan's house for a movie marathon to kick off the first day of their Labor Day weekend. Kyle was excited and agreed, his walk over to Stan's house already filled with a chill in the air and leaves turning an autumn orange. He was getting into the spirit of the turning season, with 1979 by Smashing Pumpkins playing in his headphones. When Kyle arrived, however, his fall aesthetic was soured. Stan held up multiple horror movies with a devious grin on his face as Kyle entered.

The first movie they were watching was Terrifier, and Kyle did NOT like Art the Clown. He thought he was creepy, and he didn't appreciate the clown's 'sense of humor'. Kyle watched through the folds of Stan's jacket as he buried his face in Stan's shoulder. Dusk was giving way to the night through the living room windows, making the living room crawl with deeper shadows and giving the movie a dark atmosphere.

"Come on dude, you gotta watch. Nothing scary is even happening right now." Stan reasoned. Kyle left his small hidey-hole that he had made in Stan's jacket and watched the screen warily. Stan's shoulders and right arm were assimilated into Kyle's anatomy as Kyle had his arm barred over Stan's chest to hug his farthest shoulder and held onto Stan's arm to grip his arm for stability.

Stan could feel Kyle's heartbeat in his chest with how Kyle was so pressed into his body. Stan held in his laughter from the situation. He knew Kyle to be a logical person, so wouldn't he know it was just a movie?

A jumpscare from the clown shot across the screen. Kyle yelped and physically jumped, and buried his face in Stan's shoulder. Stan couldn't keep in his laughter and burst into lighthearted chuckles.

"Pfft- hahahaha! Duhude come ohon, are you serious?" Stan asked, Kyle, clutching onto Stan for dear life. Kyle looked up from Stan's jacket with a death glare in his eyes.

"Dude shut up! You're the one who put on this stupid movie! I can't watch this!" Kyle whined. Stan rolled his eyes and absent-mindedly stole his arm back from Kyle to wrap it around Kyle's back and pulled his best friend closer.

"You're fine, Kyle, just chill," Stan suggested. Kyle froze next to Stan's side, confused about what just happened, but silently accepted it as he nestled in.

Art the Clown popped up next to the protagonist, making Kyle jump in Stan's side. A smile curled on Stan's lips as he watched his scared best friend. It was sweet, in an odd way. Stan moved to eat some popcorn placed on his other side, Kyle's favorite that he wasn't even eating.

"Alright dude, I seriously can't watch anymore. Can we just- AH!" Kyle yelped from another jumpscare and shoved his face back into Stan's shoulder. Stan fought a smile off his face as he pulled on Kyle's shoulders.

"Okay okay, we'll choose something else. You gotta get off me first, I need the remote." Stan said in a begrudging manner. Kyle shook his head quickly into Stan's shoulder and dug his fingers into Stan's jacket. Stan rolled his eyes as he tried prying Kyle off of him once more.

"Kyle get off. You want the movie to keep playing or no?" Stan asked Kyle as if he were a child. Kyle shook his head at that as well. "Then you need to get off so I can switch it!" Despite Stan's tone, he found this very amusing. Kyle never usually acted his age, so for him to be so terrified of a movie like this was entertaining. Speaking of entertaining, a sinister idea planted itself into Stan's head. Stan turned his fingers into claws and took on an evil voice.

"Oooo Kyle~ You scared Art the Clown is gonna getchya?" Stan grabbed hold of Kyle's wrist that was across Stan's chest holding onto Stan's left shoulder, and folded his right hand under Kyle's open armpit. "He's gonna getchya with his claws, and he's gonnaaaa...get you!" Stan started scribbling his fingers into Kyle's small divet of open armpit, his fingers scritching into the cloth of Kyle's jacket.

Kyle immediately reeled back from his friend and squealed, but with Stan's hold on his arm across his chest, his arm stayed outstretched. "Stahahan! Duhuhude quihihit! Thahat's nohohot funnehehee!" Kyle giggled with narrowed eyes. Stan kept up his game by keeping his fingers curled in like claws, equating them to a scary monster.

"Imagine if Art knew juust how ticklish you were, he'd neeever let you go~ He'd tickle you all day long with his razor-sharp claws!" Stan teased, his fingers now dotting into Kyle's armpit and down his ribs. Kyle yelped and jumped like he was getting electrified, and pulled his leg up to try and shield himself. But with his positioning, Kyle's leg lay across Stan's lap now.

"Oh, thanks for your leg, Kyle. So yummy for Art to eat up!" Stan let go of Kyle's arms to sink his fingers into Kyle's jeaned leg, Kyle giggling from the childishness of it all and from Stan's tickly fingers in his thigh. Kyle tried to arch back from the tickles, but Stan kept a good grip.

"Shuhuhut uhuhuhup ahahahasshole!! Yohohou suhuhuhuck!" Kyle started pounding his fists light-heartedly into Stan's shoulder, while Stan found a sweet spot between Kyle's knee and thigh and squished in between. Kyle broke out in fresh peals of laughter as he tried to steal his leg back from Stan.

"Mmm yes, I do suck. I suck your blood! Mmm so- uh, kosher. Tastes like matzo ball soup." Stan laughed along with Kyle as his fingers squished up and down Kyle's thigh and that small divet he found. Kyle tried standing up on the couch by putting his arms behind him and leveraging himself up and off the furniture. That was quickly remedied by Stan who took his hands off Kyle's leg and started tickling his tummy and sides.

Kyle squeaked and fell back into the couch, Stan now hovering over him as Kyle tried to bring his leg up to protect himself. Stan felt his best friend wriggle underneath him and thought it was very funny. "Stahahan stohohop! Reheheally! I'hi'll wahahatch the mohohovie I swehehear!" Kyle begged. Stan quirked his lip as he lessened his tickling up a little bit, but Kyle was such a big ball of nerves it wasn't much of a difference.

"Dude I said I would change it! You don't even know why I'm tickling you, do you? You're just a ticklish little guy aren't you?" Stan teased, Stan found a good spot in Kyle's side and squished into it. Kyle gave a small scream and bat his friend in the chest.

"Yehehehess! Wahah- Wahahait wahait nohoho! I'm nohohohot!" Stan smiled as his friend fought his tickles and found his hand scribbling in his friend's tummy. Tickling him was always fun. His laugh was a treasure. But, Stan did decide that that was enough. He didn't want Mr. and Mrs. Broflovski to wake up from Kyle's laughter.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop. Geez you-" Stan looked down at Kyle, his hat slightly knocked askew and his cheeks bright with blush. The colors from the TV flashed across Kyle's face, making his green eyes pop. Kyle breathed in deeply, his chest moving from getting air back into his lungs. Stan swallowed as Kyle looked up at him.

"Stan? You okay?" Kyle asked, a little breathless. Stan never realized just how... pretty, his friend was. Stan nodded up and down robotically and reached for the remote above Kyle's head.

"Yeah uh... just need to change the channel," Stan said in a monotone voice. He felt as if he was put on autopilot while he screamed internally. He couldn't possibly have feelings for Kyle, could he? Stan moved his arm up to switch the channel, but Kyle put his hand over Stan's. Stan looked to his right to see a light smile on Kyle's face.

"Hey, you don't have to change it. As long as I have you next to me, it's not so scary." Kyle admitted. Stan's face bloomed with blush, freezing stiff next to Kyle. Automatically, the two settled into the couch, Kyle dipping under Stan's arm to be at his side again. Stan covered his mouth in his shock, not hearing what was being said to him.

A poke to Stan's side shocked him, snapping him out of his reverie. Stan looked down at Kyle, who gave him a curious look. "Dude, you okay? Don't tell me I have to distract YOU from the movie now." Kyle challenged. That was enough for Stan to get back to normal. Stan rolled his eyes and settled into the couch for real this time.

"Oh stop, you know that's my job. And I do a better job of it." Just as a reminder, Stan delivered a few tickles to Kyle's side, making him giggle and shift. The two boys enjoyed the rest of the film, with Kyle not jumping at another jumpscare for the duration of the film.

[lavender-vixen]

hiiiiii! This might be a stretch from what you do, but I was wondering if you could a list of some of Patrick’s favourite things? Idk like favourite foods, bands, colors, things about himself… I need some new ideas for a fic I’m writing about him. Thanks!!!!

here are some!

fav music: nine inch nails, the cure, depeche mode, guns n' roses, & mötley crüe. he likes industrial rock/metal, darkwave/goth rock like siouxsie and the banshees & bauhaus, & some hair metal. he listens alone in his room with his walkman, cranking the volume to drown out everything while he does homework, or walking through derry at night.

fav songs: "killing moon" by echo & the bunnymen, "somebody" by depeche mode, and later in '94 "closer" by nine inch nails.

fav movies: action & sci-fi - the terminator (1984) & robocop (1987). horror films - a nightmare on elm street (1984), the texas chain saw massacre (1974), the shining (1980). cult classics - clockwork orange (1971), maybe he'd also reluctantly like heathers (1988). crime films - scarface (1983), taxi driver (1976).

fav foods: he eats like shit but has a fast-metabolism, so he stays looking like a beanpole. probably a lot of convenience store snacks - beef jerky, slim jims, gas station hot dogs, energy drinks, sour candy (warheads, sour patch kids), popcorn drenched in butter & salt. fast food - burgers & fries loaded with cheese & bacon, pizza (pepperoni or meat lovers), anything spicy from taco bell. at home, he probably goes for easy things like mac and cheese, grilled cheese sandwiches, & chicken nuggets dipped in bbq or honey mustard sauce. for dessert, probably milkshakes (vanilla) or ice cream (cookies & cream or rocky road). weird cravings for him would be pickles, hot sauce, and burnt toast.

fav drinks: coca-cola in the glass bottles so he can smash them afterwards, mountain dew, dr. pepper, slush puppies, energy drinks like jolt cola. when he sneaks it, cheap beer like budweiser or miller high life. he'd mock people for drinking wine coolers, but he secretly likes the sweet flavors like bartles & jaymes. he prefers vodka over whiskey. gas station slushies, where he mixes all the flavors together.

fav hangouts: the barrens, the junkyard, the arcade, abandoned buildings, the quarry, the 7-eleven and gas station, the train tracks, henry bowers' house.

fav weather: thunderstorms, overcast skies, light rain, fog, cold & windy days.

fav smells: gasoline, cigarette smoke, metal, rain on asphalt, leather, pine trees & forests, freshly struck matches, spray paint, blood, wet earth, cherry or blue raspberry artificial scents.

fav class: honestly, it might be art. he can put on his headphones, sketch or make whatever he wants, be left alone, zone out, and still get praise from his teacher for doing a good job. he has talent. he'd like science, especially chemistry experiments & dissection. math comes easily to him, but it's boring, so he doesn't try and gets bad grades. i think gym class would be tolerable because he gets to exert physical aggression behind the veil of competitiveness and athletic drive in games like dodgeball. study hall obviously.

fav thing about himself: his ability to control & manipulate others. his eyes, his independence.

[beautifulblooms]

dad price mcdonalds drive through

What do you want from McDonalds? - Father figure! Price + Gn! Reader

This is more or less an apology for the angst fic I wrote to torment this mf, enjoy you soap coded bastard

CIS Women and Female Aligned people, please DNI, this story and all of my others are for non-binary, masculine aligned and male readers!

It was a rough day for you, whatever reason it may be, mission gone south, bad day in training, or you just can’t seem to hit the target correctly in the shooting range

Price knew the signs you were in a bad mood immediately and practically picked you up by the scruff and walked out to his car

He would not listen to a single protest you have, he’s taking you somewhere to make you feel better and he won’t take no for an answer

Doesn’t care if you’re bigger or taller than him, he will throw you over his shoulder and into a Humvey to get to where he wants to

Drives you to McDonalds and only then once you’re there he’ll look ove and ask what you want?

“What do you want from McDonalds?”

“Chicken nuggets…fries…sweet and sour sauce…Hi-C orange…”

Will order exactly what you want and if you don’t answer he’s getting you a happy meal

Takes you on a drive around the town while you eat so the guys back at base don’t get jealous that you got McDonalds and they didn’t

[hongherbac]

[Shimamine] In My Eyes - Part 1

Read it on AO3

Fandom: Mob Psycho 100 Relationship: Minegishi Toshiki/Shimazaki Ryou Additional Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Dating Words: 457

Notes: The fic is completed. It's about 6k words long, and will be uploaded twice a week.

Summary: They planned to go on a date to enjoy the flowers together… or not?

(The first of the nine short scenes from their sweet life and dates.)

Next Part →

Part 1

　　"Do you want to go see the cherry blossoms?"

　　Minegishi looked up from the curry he was stirring, "…… What?"

　　He stood at the stove, wearing an apron, carefully tending to the bubbling pot in front of him. Holding a ladle in his left hand, he dipped the curry roux halfway into the hot water, stirring it with chopsticks in his right hand to make sure the curry melted evenly. The rice cooker was simmering fragrant white rice, and the oven was baking a plump, orange piece of salmon.

　　Shimazaki had just gotten out of the shower. His hair was dripping wet on his forehead, with a towel casually draped over his shoulders. He walked into the apartment kitchen with his cell phone, and approached his boyfriend who was preparing dinner.

　　"Hatori keeps sending me messages about cherry blossom spots."

　　Minegishi furrowed his nonexistent brows.

　　"Hey, look."

　　Shimazaki held his cell phone in front of Minegishi. The screen showed a blog post in which an Internet celebrity enthusiastically described a famous cherry blossom spot, praising it as the most beautiful and spectacular display of blossoms they'd ever seen. The post was accompanied by countless overly edited photos: Under the bright pink cherry blossom trees, people laid out picnic mats with elaborate handmade bentos and vintage tea sets, almost covering the grass. Families and couples sat together, smiling brightly and contentedly at the camera.

　　Shimazaki supposed it was a beautiful photo, but he couldn't really tell. Even if he concentrated and used his extrasensory perception to recognize the contents of these pictures, he still had no idea what people meant by 'beautiful'.

　　He sensed Minegishi's aura curl up, filled with unabashed distaste. "Maybe some other time."

　　Shimazaki put down his cell phone and moved closer to cuddle Minegishi's slender body, resting his chin gently on top of his boyfriend’s head. His cheek was brushed by the soft hair, and the air was filled with the rich, spicy aroma of curry.

　　Minegishi handed him the ladle, "Taste it for me."

　　He took the ladle and sipped a small amount of the sauce. The taste was distinctly different from the usual, with a hint of sourness, sweetness, and a faint, almost hidden fruitiness.

　　"What did you put in it?"

　　"Pineapple."

　　"Pineapple? Honey, I know you're a psychopath, but this……."

　　"Did you know that pineapple has enzymes that break down protein? If you eat it, it'll eat your tongue too." Minegishi took the ladle back and tasted a bit himself, "They say it's a Southeast Asian flavor. Seems a bit too sour."

　　Shimazaki kissed him lightly on the cheek, "I'll add another spoonful of salt."

　　Minegishi stood on his toes, opened the spice cabinet, took out the salt and added another spoonful.

[jillsandwhichs]

Our Future Days

Joel Miller x Reader series, Chapter 3, A first for many

Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!reader

Summary: You come home from your first day as an official doctor. within the evening, you order yourself some food and whilst eating, you hear a knock at your door. it's him, it's Joel. you two talk and well, he asks you to dinner

WC: 3.8k

Type: Sfw

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

You opened up the front door to your home, letting out a big sigh as you walked into your house. It's around 5:30ish, you just got home from your first day at work. The most you can say was, well, it was eventful. Not fully what you were expecting either. You thought there'd be training of sorts, or it'd be a chill day considering it was your very first but no, you instantly got thrown around to different sections of the hospital to do all sorts of labor. It wasn't the worst though, just very stressful.

Looking over at your couch, you chuckled quietly to yourself, spotting Becker as he was fast asleep on it. He must've wore himself out today, running around the house and what not. He's too energetic for his own good sometimes. "Such a dork." You whispered to yourself, placing your car keys onto the kitchen's island counter. You were also very hungry, you didn't even get a lunch break at work, you definitely needed to make some dinner, you just had no clue what you'd make yet.

Yesterday, on Sunday, you went grocery shopping. You spent a whopping 300$, you got a whole lotta food, but Becker also came into the picture. You bought him his very own dog bed, a leash, some treats and some food for him, he was all set! He already loves the new toy you bought for him too, it's a chew toy shaped as a cucumber, he finds joy in the oddest of things. You slid off your jacket, setting it on the back of one of your kitchen chairs.

Your hair was also probably a mess too, all that running around in this September humidity was no joke, it was hot out today. Winter time can't come any sooner. You had it all pulled back into a loose ponytail, you had to, work procedure. You tried to remain quiet, not wanting to awaken Becker, you just weren't in the mood to take him outside so he can go potty, you'd prefer to make yourself something to eat first.

Opening up your fridge and your freezer, you took a gander at both, scanning all the products you had on the inside. You did have some frozen carbonara that looked good, came with the noodles, chicken and the peas, it was gonna be yummy but you weren't necessarily craving that. There was also a lot of fruit but you weren't craving a fruit salad either. Ever since you were a young child, you were picky. Not only with food either, with practically everything.

You turned your head around, looking at the house phone connected to the wall. You also currently have your card on you. It wouldn't hurt to possibly order some food, would it? You strolled over and picked up your phone, going on Safari and typing in "Local restaurant's near me?", Wanting to see what would pop up and unsurprisingly, a lot did. Dallas is a big place, so many restaurants, delis, cafés, etc.. Although, you were specifically craving one time of food - Chinese food.

The idea of that tangy orange chicken was ideal. Some sesame seeds on top of it, broccoli on the side, gosh it sounded perfect. You were also craving the noodles they serve, lo mein. Seeping soy sauce all over them was also always a gem. Not just those items either, egg rolls sound amazing too. You hope their sweet n sour is good, because that's a win or lose situation. Bad sweet n sour? Bad egg rolls. You needed to find a spot in town ASAP and search for their menu.

Scrolling through your phone, you saw a 4.7 starred restaurant on the Safari page. It seemed good enough. All of the reviews were positive and any that weren't only really complained about customer service but to you, that won't really be an issue. You hopped up off of the barstool and walked over to your house phone ; You would totally use your personal device but it's currently out of minutes.

You dialed the numbers, clicking each button firmly to not mess it up. You turned your phone off and held the main one up to your ear, hearing that classic, deep ringing noise until shortly after, you heard a man's voice on the other line. He stated the name of the restaurant then asked you what you'd like to order. "Hi, thank you! I would just like to order a ten piece count of orange chicken, two pints of lo mein and a six piece count of egg rolls with two sweet n sour containers, and that'll be all." You established with the worker.

After exchanging your personal info to have a delivery worker come by, you stuck the phone back up on the wall and let out a soft sigh. You hadn't even noticed but Becker had woken up, his tounge was out as he stared at you. "Hey baby." You whispered to him, kneeling down and giggling as he began to lick all over your face. "Oh Mama missed you too!" You shrieked, your fingers running through his fur. He'll always be your fur baby. Although, you assumed he was hungry and that's why he wanted your attention.

Standing back up, you glanced over at his sliver dog bowl, seeing only a little bit left. Yep, you were right. "You're just a hungry boy." You said playfully to Becker, opening one of the cabinets connected to the island counter. You pulled out his food, opening it and pouring a decent amount in his bowl and immediately, he went absolutely ham. Food is the key to a dog's heart, isn't it? He'd most likely have to go outside soon but you were dreading that. After the long day you've had, chilling out is all you wanna do.

Yesterday, you took the time to set up your living room, now it has an entire couch and TV in it, you even got Netflix to treat yourself! Last night, you started rewatching Friend's, it was always a goodie, an oldie, but a goodie. "Eat your food up boy, mama will take you out later." You stated to Becker, but he was too indulged in his meal. "Of course." You scoffed, a slight smile playing on your cute face.

You looked back up and through your kitchen window, Joel's home straight in front of it. You hadn't even acknowledged him today, that's a record. His car was in the driveway, he may have just recently gotten home because no way did that workaholic stay home. Only way he'd do that is if his little girl is sick or something. Other than that, you highly doubt it. Joel was so helpful on Saturday, you seriously put him to work and not a single complaint was heard. He was such a man.

At work, for some reason, you hoped he'd pop in. He did tell you he gets checkups there, along with his daughter, so you prayed but obviously that wasn't going to happen. As you keep thinking to yourself, you truly don't know what it is about that man that causes you to crave him. Would crave even be the right word...? You just want him, you want to be around him. He's such a genuine person and anytime he's in your presence, it feels different ; You feel awfully different. He just seems like a great man to have around and you'd love to keep it that way.

You wonder if he ever thinks about you throughout the day. You catch yourself doing it often, like right now for example. He simply draws you in like a lure then doesn't let you go, he just gets you closer and closer with no stopping. You doubt he's attempting to do that, he doesn't even know how he makes you feel. Even you don't know! He literally has your mind all over the place, bouncing off of the walls in your head like your brain drank 15 energy drinks. Or a gazillion beers which at this rate, you probably need.

You shook the thoughts of Joel from your head, heaving deeply and taking one last good look at his house, thinking about what he could be doing inside. You turnt your head, checking on Becker whom was still eating, he must've been starving, you'd leave him alone. You picked up your phone and slipped it into your pocket as you sat down on the couch, your legs stretching felt amazing, you needed this. You decided to watch your show to pass the time until your Chinese food arrives.

The remote was tucked into the couch cushion, Becker's chunky self must've caused that. You used it to switch the TV on, the Vizio logo appearing smack dab on screen. You wanted to buy a Roku but for you, that was out of your price range. This was a used Vizio but it worked greatly, you were happy you found it at a good price. On the TV, you only had Netflix and YouTube but you weren't much of a television watcher anyways, only really when you eat or if you want noise on in the background, even then, half of the time you play music instead.

On Netflix, you went to your 'continue watching' section and turned on Friend's, you'd probably only be able to finish an episode or two before your food comes. Man, you were very excited, food was what you needed right now. As you focused on the show, you patted the couch a couple times, wanting Becker to come cuddle up with you, which he did. The dog hopped up onto the couch, setting himself in a comfy position, his tail wagging on your lap as he layed there. "Good boy." You cooed to the doggo, now just relaxing and watching your show til your meal arrives...

-

Midway through the second episode you were on, you heard a knock at your front door, specifically five knocks. You felt giddy, gosh you couldn't wait to get your hands on the food. Hopefully it looked even better than it did in the images, because it looked yummy. You snatched your wallet off of the table, then stepping right on over to the door, opening it up. A man was standing there, two seperate bags in his hands that smelt so fucking amazing.

"Hello, you ordered this?" "Yes, you have the right house." You tittered, taking both bags and setting them on the floor beside you. "How much do I owe you?" "21$ to be exact." The man answered you. Nodding, you opened your wallet and pulled out a twenty with a one dollar bill, passing it to the man. "Thanks." "No, thank you, have a good evening and drive safe." You spoke kindly before deliberately shutting the door. You looked down, a teeny squeal releasing from you as you grabbed both bags.

You set them down on the island counter, undoing the knot the worker had put on the thin, plastic straps. All of the food was in reusable containers, which was beneficial to you. Growing up, your family would reuse butter containers, cups from Happy Meals at McDonald's and even deli meat containers. Hey, it's one way to not let it go to waste!

You grabbed out your orange chicken, then your lo mein and lastly, your egg rolls. Even Becker was curious but he need not worry, you'll share with him... Sort of... You ambled towards your strainer, pulling out a white, glass plate and setting it down. Attached to the orange chicken box was some chop sticks, it was super convenient. Who eats Chinese food with regular silverware? Definitely not you. You've adapted to chop sticks, main reason being you also often eating Sushi.

You set up your plate, it was a feast and you were ready to devour it. You sat down on the barstool, unpacking the chop sticks and briskly picking a piece of orange chicken up, moaning as you took a bite. It was very tasty, but definitely not better than back home but then again, you're just biased. But this was honestly great, it tastes so tangy yet salty but also sweet all at once. It really hit all the boxes on what a perfect piece of orange chicken should taste like.

You ate another piece, absolutely hounding it down. Going an entire day without eating, especially in a hospital, was hell. You ate literally nothing today, there's no doubt in your mind you'll eat this entire plate in one sitting. Your dog was lucky, he gets an entire bowl of his food numerous times a day, he'll never go hungry. He's more taken care of than you are but that's only thanks to you being such a great dog mama.

Eyeing down the lo mein, you used the chop sticks to twirl a few noodles onto them, the dark sauce dripped from them as you brought the delicious food up to your mouth, engulfing it. Even the noodles were fantastic, you forgot to ask for soy sauce but some of that on these would be heavenly. "Thank you Lord." You joked, garfing down more of the lo mein, it was definitely the highlight of this dinner.

Although, you were most excited for the egg rolls, now those looked crispy and chunky, the fatter, the better. You got the chicken kind, it's always been superior. You took the lid off of the medium sized sweet n sour container. The liquid looked thick, it looked just as the sauce always should. You dipped the egg roll deep into it, until it couldn't go down anymore, then you pulled it out and took a hefty bite. Chewing it, the flavor bursted in your mouth. It just keeps getting better & better.

As you were eating, you heard a knock at your door again. Was it the delivery man? What could he possibly need, you were trying to eat. You quickly shoved another piece of chicken into your mouth, chomping it up and swallowing it with haste as you opened your front door. It wasn't the delivery man. In fact, it was someone much different. It was Joel. He was wearing a tight black shirt with jeans and he was holding a small see through container full of no bake cookies.

"Joel? Hey." You said casually, trying to seem as normal as possible. "Hey darlin', ion mean to intrude or anything but my daughter, Sarah, had a bake sale at school today and she brought home all these cookies. I'm afraid I don't personally like em but I wanted to see if you did? Don't wanna let her cookies go to waste." Joel explained, his accent making you melt. The gesture was so kind, so sweet. Your heart was skipping beats as you looked down at his veiny hands, the way they held that box was attractive. Full on grip and everything.

"Oh, of course, any kind of cookies are great, here, bring them in." You stood to the side, allowing Joel to come inside. You gave you a small smirk before stepping in. He whistled briefly, analyzing your house. "Been only a damn day and you already got your house finished, atta girl." Joel praised you, setting the cookies down on the counter. He took notice of your food, even he could agree it smelt lovely. "My bad, I really didn't mean to intrude while you was eatin' your dinner." "Joel, truly, no problem at all, it's actually nice to see you after such a day." You slipped out, your tone a little too soft.

Joel chuckled, crossing his arms, causing his muscles to flex, "Why? What's been so bad about your day?" "First day of work, no training, it was just straight to the gist of it." You sighed deeply, sitting back down on the barstool. Joel continued to stand. "Ah, I imagine being a doctor ain't easy, you got lives to save n all." He replied, he made it clear he didn't see an issue with getting straight to work but for you, it was, you were extremely nervous, it was your first ever day.

"Well, yeah but thing is, I was just thrown in there, no clue of where I was or where to go and I had like at least thirty patients today... One of them had a broken ankle, it was so swollen, I felt horrible and I felt like I didn't do the best I could've done if I was more prepared." You went on, venting helped. Joel listened carefully, understanding where you were coming from. "Guess I can understand that but you're a special one, you are a damn doctor, don't freak yourself out." He said calmly. "You went to medical school, you're a smart girl, you don't need no damn training." He snickered, shaking his head slightly.

You sat there and heard out what he was saying. His voice was so deep yet you could tell his words were meaningful. You felt your cheeks go pink, the heat of them radiating throughout your body. You don't think he realizes the things he's even saying. "You're sweet." You giggled, looking down, it was hard to proceed with eye contact. "No, I ain't sweet, I'm just truthful." Joel grumbled, clearly he doesn't take all that well to being complimented.

"How about you though? How was work as a contractor?" You questioned, your voice getting all 'valley girl' when saying contractor. Joel laughed lightly, liking your comedic side. "Very uneventful aside from the fact my damn brother fell from a ladder, nearly broke his ass." Joel shrugged. You cackled, finding his way of saying thing's amusing. "Nearly broke his ass? Hmm, maybe I'll see him in the ER soon." You teased. "I wouldn't be surprised." Joel agreed.

"Are you reckless?" "No, I'm smart, I get called reckless, yet I rarely get hurt." "Well, get hurt on purpose so you can come see me at work." You joked. "Maybe I oughta, it'd be like seeing sunshine during a rainstorm." He chortled. Him saying that literally made your stomach do flips. Does he realize what that even means? Maybe he has a different perception of it. To you, it means his job sucks and seeing you would make it all the more better. Are you some sort of light in his darkness?

You giggled, attempting to play off what he had said as if you didn't understand it or something. You stood up from the other side of the counter, wanting to walk back over to where he was but as you did, you felt something beneath your feet and right as you realized, you were slipping. You closed your eyes and went to hold onto the counter but was ultimately unsuccessful. You were fully ready to now "break your ass" but you never even fell.

You opened your eyes, Joel's arm wrapped around your back, his other arm wrapped around your front. Your hands rested on each of his forearms, he was so strong, it was so appealing & alluring, his body type. You couldn't help but stare into his siren brown eyes, they pierced through yours like a blade, so dark yet there was something behind them you couldn't quite make out. You felt his fingers dig into your hip, it felt good, it made your stomach drop though, in the best way it could.

Beginning to giggle, you stood back up on your feet now, slightly embarrassed by what just happened. "My bad, I'm so clumsy." You vocalized, your hands still on his arms. Joel was silent for a few more seconds but let out a faint chuckle, "Gotta be more careful." His fingers lingered on your waist as he said that, but they eventually left as you also let go of him. "Sorry..." You soughed, fixing your hair that had flew as you almost fell.

You didn't realize at first until moments later but Joel was staring at you, his eyes fixated on you and didn't leave til you made eye contact. "Is everything alright?" You questioned the man. Joel breathed out heavily before speaking, "Listen, I know we just met on Friday, hell, it's only been three and a half day's but I'd really enjoy getting to know you better, so I'm just wondering and don't feel pressured, but I'm just wondering if you'd like to have dinner at my place Wednesday evening, I would totally do it for tomorrow but I'll be workin late." He let it all out, all at once.

Utterly shocked, you stood there, overall trying to process his words. Joel... Wanted dinner... With you? Was this real? Are you dreaming? Has God truly gifted you this? You couldn't believe your hears. He wanted to have dinner with you, homemade dinner at that, you were intrigued. "Dinner? At your place?" You wondered, gazing at him, your eyes going back and forth from his eyes to his lips. "Yeah, yeah, I plan on making a mighty fine dinner on Wednesday and it would be a pleasure if you joined."

What did he think you were going to say? No?

"I would be honored." You blushed, giving him a quick soft smile. Joel nodded, he seem relieved. "Well, that's an answer for the books." He chuckled, sighing deeply. "Yeah, just swing by Wednesday evening, round 7:30 PM, I'd say." Joel kindly said, his arms crossed again. "Sounds like a plan, should I bring any food or...?" "Nah Darlin', it'll be me cooking. Sarah would also like to meet ya so it'll be a nice dinner, don't sweat it." "Your daughter wants to meet me?" "Yeah, my loud mouthed brother decided to bring you up and now Sarah is all curious, she's an inquisitive one." Joel laughed.

"Well, tell Sarah I would love to meet her too, and that I'll see her Wednesday." You glimmered at him, tilting your head slightly. Joel nodded, unfolding his arm's. "Great, good, it'll be nice." Joel added on, slowing stepping backwards, "I'll let you finish your dinner and get settled for the night but uh, I'll see you soon, yeah?" "Yes." You smiled, also stepping back towards your food. Joel smirked, giving you a quick wink before exiting through the front door, leaving those cookies for you.

You were insanely nervous. Was this... Like a date? You couldn't tell. Probably not since his daughter will be there but the way he worded it, it seemed like it was going to be a date. Either way, your heart was beating like drum in your chest. This was a big step for you, you'd actually see his home now, meet his daughter, it was going to be pleasant. You imagine she's a sweetheart with how Joel talks about her. You hope she'll like you.

Sitting back down, you picked your chopsticks back up with a hum, ready to finish your dinner.

But boy, were you excited for your upcoming dinner with Joel.

[rain-world-positivity-blog]

im going to bombard you with some random qs if thats ok!

what food do you think iterators and scugs would like if they existed irl?

tulip-anon🌷

Wow! Hi, you’re my first named anon that’s cool! It’s totally okay to spam me with questions, headcanons, positive confessions, OC lore dumps, fic recommendations, just whatever really!

Now, let me think of this a little! (I’ll do everyone I think, for fun~)

Moon - she’s giving me sushi and seafood vibes, but I also think Moon would like herbal teas and stuff too. I bet she’d also enjoy tanghulu (Chinese candied fruit on a stick, very popular in Korea too! My favourite kind is mandarin heheh). I feel like she’d like tuna sushi the most out of all her favourites though!

Pebbles - this guy gives me depressed microwave meal vibes, like sad overdone rustlers chicken burger. Okay but on a serious note Pebbles is a soup guy you can’t convince me otherwise. Give this man his broth! I bet he’d really enjoy a chicken soup with some crusty garlic bread.

NSH - edibles Nah, this man subsides off coffee alone! No milk, no sugar, just coffee. Also a fan of sour candies than make you almost cry. He’d also be the one guy to just make unholy food combinations at 3am, but if we just want to stay simple? Mac n cheese. Can’t go wrong with that!

Suns - spicy food!! They’re the kind to slurp down those super hot noodles that burn your mouth and hurt your tummy and make you cry except their spice tolerance is ELITE! People will be signing away their lives and they’re heaping in more hot sauce. Ramen enjoyer.

Wind - hmm, I dunno about Wind to be honest! Wind does give me simple meal vibes. Probably snacks on those protein bars that taste like cardboard but thinks they taste good. Has cereal for lunch every day and not even the nice kind. Flavourless and unseasoned ass food.

Innocence - cake, macarons, cookies, diabetes. This iterator has never even seen a vegetable.

Sliver - I think she’d enjoy pasta! Like creamy and cheesy pasta. There’s a place near me that does truffle cheesy spaghetti with mixed seafood. She’d like that!

Now for the slugcats, didn’t put that much thought into these just went off vibes 😅

Survivor - marshmallows and white chocolate!

Monk - eats whole lemons on purpose while maintains direct eye contact

Hunter - fried chicken, especially hot wings

Gourmand - Gourm enjoys all food as long as it’s made with love! But homemade bread is the big favourite here!

Artificer - steak. It’s either so overdone it’s charcoal or so raw it’s trying to run away. Depends on the vibes

Rivulet - cotton candy and menthol sweets so minty they burn

Spearmaster - protein shake enjoyer, really likes the shitty banana flavour

Saint - ginger cookies and chocolate chip ice cream

Enot/Inv - monster energy and chilli heatwave Doritos, the meal of gamers

Watcher - since we know little about this guy… untoasted white bread, salted. (I used to eat this… don’t ask)

[mushyposts]

What do you think everyones fav food would be??

( you got me invested in avatar ocs again how dare thi/hj)

HAHAH IM SO INVESTED IN THEM TOO!! HMM what an interesting question omg... Natai eats pretty much anything!! The only thing he isnt a huge fan of is raw fish, but even then he wont argue! Food is food! Especially if it has nutritional/medicinal purposes! Kaiqa is a bit picky, not overly so, but enough that he's lucky hes super close with Mikla, who does most of the cooking on the ship! I reckon he'd love something super obscure and random, like, idk, maybe something like Durian??? Mikla isnt picky at all, he doesnt eat anything like Natai, but he'll try any food once! He looooves sea prune stew though. Sorqai loves bread, just fresh baked bread, he'd eat it on its own but loves it w some butter and honey. He has a soft spot AND a sweet tooth! Kutai is a bit boring and loves plain rice, he'll add some sauces to it sometimes, but he will often eat his main meat on its own and save the rice to have without anything added to it!! Buteq LOVES raw fish! He likes prepping it w something acidic, something spicy and then something sour and eating it in thin slices!! Especially with a hot bed of rice. Kovak likes soup of any kind, except for more creamy one, if he wants cream he'd have a cake or something! He especially loves really hearty, chunky ones with a thick dark broth! And i know these guys arent OC's BUUUT: Hakoda LOVES five spice stew. It reminds him of Kya and his mother, and Bato makes it so well (and so frequently) that its like an automatic calm down food for him! Bato has a sweet tooth, he loves candied fruits, nuts and sweet buns/breads, a taste he acquired once moving to Hakoda and Kyas tribe and then in the few times they make port in the earth kingdom. Zuko's favourite food is noodle OR rice soups. Clean, simple broths with noodles or slightly overcooked rice in them. Basic white meats, or red meats that have been braised on the side. He actually really enjoys water tribe foods, much to his own shock since it lacks the spices he grew up with!!

THIS WAS SUCH A CUTE ASK I LOVE IT!! : D i love imagining these guys in more depth and im so happy u like them omg. I was sooo worried because I know i sometimes dont enjoy when theres a heavy density of OC's in a fic, so I really hope i pulled them off!!

[ontologicalmoki]

 @clawedandcute​ I found it! 

It started with this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32049478 In which some Tatooine cuisine is described. 

Then @clarabrighet and @lurking-latinist helped me or at least listened to me ramble about more tatooine food items based on the selection described in that fic. The list is based on the one tatooine food we do know about, blue milk, the fact that Anakin eats bugs and must have learnt that from somewhere, and what I already know about desert cultures’ cuisine. Boba Fett hadn’t come out yet. Here:

Grape mellons - watery, not very sweet

Jawa berries - small, very sour berries that grow in rocky places

desert soy - not actually a bean but a soft nut that grows on bushes

barley - the one staple crop that grows, but its more like buckwheat than a cereal. 

Yellow pepper - from the seeds of a scrubby plant

Desert pear - sweet tree fruit with a short season, has a rigid exterior that has to be cracked.

crumbleroot - the starchy root of a thorny plant which, as may be indicated by the name, is really hard to harvest. by the time you dig it up and wash the dirt off it will be broken into a hundred little pea-sized chunks. Kinda sweet like jicama, kinda spicy like radish. 

citron - a short, herby plant with a heavy root ball that when cracked has a sour flesh inside with a high water content.

mango - actually more like a giant snap pea (or an ice cream bean if you know what that is). hard exterior and with hard, fatty fruits on the inside.

And of course, blue milk and bantha meat.

Food items:

Curried blue beans (made with desert soy, blue milk, and sand pear) served with fried raptor egg

Little candies made of spicy bean paste and shaped like Jabba the Hutt

Bantha steak strips, seasoned with pepper and sweet bark, with blue cheese and citron slices, served over steamed crumbleroot

Little cakes of mashed crumbleroot, sage, sweet bark, bantha meat, and Jawa berry, all wrapped in a mango leaf and baked

Dune worm stew, mostly dune worms and just a little gelatinous broth, with sage, citron leaf, yellow pepper, barley, and melon chunks. (Dune worms are hard to cook and fragile and so have a narrow range of uses. They are however abundant).

Skewered sand hopper, broiled and served with roasted grape melon and desert pear and dusted with yellow pepper

Jawa Berry pie, which is actually more of a Jawa berry, sage, sweet bark, bantha bacon, and barley scramble, baked in a tin without a crust, served with blue cream and honey on top

Desert soy and grape Mellon curry, served with fried egg and bright yellow with how much pepper is in it.

Egg wraps, where you fry an egg into like a tortilla and wrap stuff in it. Popular fillings are bantha meat, yellow pepper, refried soy beans, citron (often mashed up with sage and crumbleroot into a sauce), Jawa berry jelly (a powerfully sour substance to be used sparingly), desert pear, blue cheese, and yet more egg

Boiled barley sautéed in butter with crumbleroot, sage, sweet bark, and bantha bacon (or beetles).

Cubed bantha meat, marinated in pepper, sweet bark, and citron, scrambled with crumbleroot, raptor egg, and desert pear, and simmered in blue milk

Hard candy made of Jawa berry jam and honey

Citron pie, which is a glassy citron, honey, and sage marmalade (swirled with Jawa berry jam if you feel fancy) in a crispy barley crust, drizzled with a grape melon wine reduction, decorated with sage blossoms

Blue milk custard, served on a fried desert soy patty, with honey grape melon sauce, dusted with powdered sweet bark.

Just a soy patty fried in butter and smeared with either Jawa berry jam or citron marmalade. At its highest form it’s served with fresh blue cheese and citron leaves

Hutt candies but collectible, in different colors and looking like different members of the hutt family. (There’s a popular childrens game that involves passing them around a circle quickly so as not to be the last one in the middle, whose hutt gets smashed with a plate and eaten. Bean paste is very satisfying to smash)

A bean paste ball with a candied beetle in the middle, rolled in crystallised honey

[umbracirrus]

I'm gonna send you some ✨🌟⭐💫 for the ask game!

Thank you!!

So, hmm...

I think I'll give commentary on two things here - one for my Skyrim fic The Perfect Storm, and the other for my Oblivion fic With light comes shadow!

The Perfect Storm

Hehe, so, I think here I'll go on about something simple but that I love bringing into the fic - Elyse has a sweet tooth.

There have been numerous occasions during which she's been chatting to someone or doing something all whilst munching away at something sweet, or was about to do so.

For example:

Chapter 5:

Elyse reached into the bag which she had with her and pulled out one of the apples, ready to eat it before returning home. She didn’t expect to get a sudden tap on her shoulder, which made her flinch before promptly throwing the apple at her ‘assailant’.

Maybe I should clarify that it's a red apple, because they're sweeter (and I've always found green apples too sour - I've only ever used them to make apple sauce with heapings of sugar!!!)

Chapter 8:

Elyse had to stifle a yawn as she nodded in response to Farengar’s questions as she sat – very much reluctantly – with the court mage. "I haven’t had reason to," she muttered, now reaching out for a sweetroll she had been trying to eat for quite some time.

And

The questions were really starting to build up by that point, so she decided that enough was enough, and that he could wait for a few moments before he would get his answers. She grabbed the sweetroll, and took as big of a mouthful as she could manage without ending up spitting out crumbs as she ate, holding up one of her fingers to let him know that he would have to be patient.

Elyse has priorities and Farengar's questions aren't one of them.

Chapter 11:

In what was a stroke of luck, he quietened down when dessert was served. But then again, who could focus on anything other than a warm, freshly baked cake drizzled with cream and snowberries when such a delight was put out before them?

As she was finishing her last mouthful of her cake, Elyse found herself being tapped on the shoulder by the boy, a look which seemed almost pleading on his face. "Tell him! Tell father that I can join in next time that you help to train the guards!"

It suddenly felt really hard to continue chewing as she felt both Frothar and Balgruuf’s eyes upon her.

Chapter 17:

"Do... you remember when you saw Nelkir talking to me the other day?” She glanced at him for a moment, until he nodded, before continuing. “He said some strange things to me," she whispered as her hands wrapped around the mug of tea which had not long been poured for her.

It's not mentioned here but is something I am going to add in when I get to editing this chapter, but that tea most certainly has sugar in it.

And in the upcoming chapter 18, Elyse will be spending a decent amount of time eating fruit tarts. And here's a little excerpt from when Balgruuf realises that she has a sweet tooth:

When she returned, it was with a half-eaten tart in her hand, steam escaping from the filling as she went to take another bite. It was only then that he began to pick up on the scent she had been going on about – it was most certainly from the tart, and it had to have been freshly baked.

“So... You like sweet foods, hm?”

She raised an eyebrow at him as though he were mad for asking such a question. “Of course I do! Sweetrolls, cake, tarts, candies, berries... How could I not?”

Elyse loves her sweet stuff! Her favourite thing though is strawberries, which are abundant in Cyrodiil but not so much in Skyrim. She can settle for things like snowberries though.

With light comes shadow

So, in the one whole chapter I have posted so far, one of the key points is that Florian has a lucky septim from his first properly successful theft. I've already gone on before about how after he loses it he eventually finds himself a new lucky Septim (Martin), so I'm not going to go on about that again, but instead go on about the fact that things being like a coin will be a massive metaphor in this fic!

Both Florian and Drissa are opposite sides of a coin, one is heads, one is tails. One is a criminal, the other is a rule-following, lauded public figure in the arena. One sticks to the shadows to avoid being caught, the other is in the spotlight.

From the moment Florian loses his coin, it is as though the metaphorical coin has been flipped for the pair. His life changes for good, for the better - he becomes not just a hero, but a champion, and even finds love and starts having hope for the future. Drissa's life changes for the worst, but she begins to welcome this darkness as she seeks revenge for her arrest and finds herself in the Dark Brotherhood, but still has to suffer through more and more as she keeps losing what she wants to hold close. But both of them accept these changes by the end of the fic... So perhaps there's a chance for a happy ending for them both? Hehe.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

🎀 list 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! get to know your moots or followers <3

i answered this yesterday but you know what i'll answer it AGAIN with more answers:

when ppl slide into my asks with random headcanons. honestly to date i've never met a random f1 rpf headcanon that i didn't like

hot drink inside on a rainy cold day - i live in the tropics (and am currently out of the country) so once in a while this feeling is novel rather than annoying

peanut sauce and mayo with fries which @nyoomfruits was talking about and honestly this is very intriguing to me. i see the vision

chili sauce!! love that shit!! the fifth flavour to me (if you think salt/savoury, sweet, bitter, sour...). i grew up eating southern chinese food, which as a general rule is not really spicy, and since moving to SEA i've become the person that now feels they need to put chili sauce on everything.

all the amazing fics i get to read and artwork on here that also inspires me... and i get to read and see it FOR FREE. crazy!

[jyndor]

Dear Cait,

Greetings and happy November!

This week I have a question to help me narrow down the ideas I have floating for your prompts: Based on your tastes, what ingredients do you look for in an RC fic?

And another question for fun! Do you have a favorite holiday food or treat? 🍪🥧

Sincerely,

Your Secret Santa 🎄❄️✨☃️

P.S. hope you enjoy the corny cooking theme of these questions

omg hi anon! thanks for the corny I love it tbh need some cornbread to get through the agonies :))) I hope I answered these clearly, lmk if you need further clarification 😂

ingredients for rc fanfic:

1 part knowing each other, like even if they are still learning the details they know each other because they are so similar (they are mirrors, the mortifying ordeal of being known)

1 part rage against the machine, obviously their story is set against the backdrop of what they did for the rebellion and to fight the empire, so their politics have always been a thing that I think should show up in some way

1 part found family sweetness, in any universe they'd have their family because that's so central to their story tbh - always yearning for acceptance and finally finding it at the end lol rip

shaken and poured over ice (because I love Fest, I love it featuring in Cassian's backstory even if it's not what we always thought it was)

garnished with a cherry and maybe some nutmeg (let cassian cook, let jyn eat his cooking ofc)

as far as my own favorite holiday treats... hmmm... well my mom makes manicotti from scratch every year for christmas. it's like a crepe pasta that she puts ricotta and some herbs and stuff in and rolls it up, puts marinara on top and shoves it in the oven for a bit. my dad makes a salad and also these individual goat cheese souffles, oh my god. for thanksgiving we always have lentil stew and mashed potatoes, and sometimes we'll make latkes too. and I like sour cream on mine, not apple sauce because idk that's sus to me.

I'd love to know what your fave holiday foods are anon!