#instead of stealing bread he bakes it

[cvntybrat]

cinnamon rolls

thinking about househusband!sukuna who can't get a job due to his criminal history and his aggressive and violent nature, who stays home and does house chores and everything else in between for his beautiful wife, the bread winner.

he one day goes out with his friends–which he rather die than consider them his friends, and they jokingly tell him he should do something sweet for his wife.

"you should make her cinnamon rolls."

"hah?"

"cinnamon rolls! but instead of the frosting you should use your cum! but don't tell her, see if she'll notice, maybe she'll like them better than normal ones." gojo snickers.

"you think i'll do some stupid shit like that?"

"why not? too old to have enough in the tank for some cinnamon rolls?"

who would he be if he didn't prove gojo satoru wrong?

"why does it smell so sweet?" you had just come home from work, the first thing you noticed was the smell of cinnamon and sugar wafting in the air.

"sukuna?"

kicking off your heels, you walked into the kitchen to see househusband!sukuna shirtless, with sweat trickling down his neck and a few trails down his muscular back.

"woman," he turns his neck, facing you before turning his entire body, revealing a glass bakeware with freshly baked cinnamon rolls and frosting. "try this."

you walked over to him, staring at the cinnamon rolls in his hands with an eyebrow raised.

"you don't bake."

"do you want them or not?" he huffed, "these are special, ya'know? so appreciate 'em."

"of course i appreciate them." you rolled your eyes.

swiping your finger through the frosting, picking up some of the sugar and cinnamon mixture with it, househusband!sukuna felt his cock twitch against his sweatpants at the sight of you putting your finger into your mouth as you looked up at him, sucking the frosting off of your finger.

"mmh! yummy!" you beamed innocently, taking more onto your finger and sucking on it, keeping eye contact with the tattooed man. "i can't wait to have a piece after dinner, love."

househusband!sukuna could feel his cock getting harder at the sight, but as he was about to tell you the frosting was his cum, you pressed your lips onto his cheek and turned around, walking into your shared room.

"you should make me more of that, 'kuna! the frosting is so good, it's not too sweet, it's a little salty, but the cinnamon and the sugar compliments it."

i guess there's nothing wrong with not telling you that househusband!sukuna spent an hour and a half fucking his hand to the homemade videos the two of you have made to have enough to cover all nine cinnamon rolls. if you're gonna want more, he's gonna need more videos... a win is a win.

notes: a lot of people i see are being accused of copying other bloggers and stuff, so before any of that happens– i remember reading something similar to this a while ago, like A WHILE ago, and it was so long ago, but i cannot for the life of me remember, so if you guys know who wrote this concept first, pls LET ME KNOW!!!!

UPDATE!!!! tysm @gloriousbreadperson for letting me know that @psuejo had this idea first so u can read their’s HERE!!

⋆cvntybrat 2025. DO NOT repost, copy, translate or steal any of my works.

[sinkuna]

╰┈➤ Nanami Kento

"You're making such a mess," Nanami sighs, but there's a playful glint in his eyes as you dance away while flicking at him with fingers full of flour, giggling as it poofs across his pristine suit.

"Am i?" you tease, shrieking with laughter as he stalks toward you, his arms outstretched as though he means to catch you.

The honey bread baking fills the kitchen with a sweet smell, almost as sweet as your teasing giggles.

"You are," he tells you, his lips tugging upward as he lunges for you, purposefully missing so that he could watch you dance away.

"Maybe you should help me clean up then," you suggest innocently, deliberately bending over- acting as if you were going to pick up something. His sharp intake of breath tells you he's noticed you're bare beneath that thin pink apron you've been parading around.

As Nanami reaches up to loosen his tie, and you can see his cock stirring against his slacks.

"Such a naughty little baker." he purrs, suddenly pressed against your back, his large arms circling you from behind, those addictive veiny hands of his slipping into the apron leaving white handprints across your breasts as he kneads them tenderly.

"Getting my suit dirty… making a mess of my kitchen…" His voice deepens as you grind shamelessly against his bulge.

"I- I was just trying to make you honey bread, hone- eep!"

You gasp as he spins you around, lifting you onto the counter with such ease.

Flour puffs into the air as he spreads your thighs wide, leaving dusty handprints everywhere he touches, "And such a beautiful little baker i've seen to have caught," he murmurs fondly, leaving floury fingerprints on your cheeks as he cups your face, "What am I going to do with you?"

╰┈➤ Gojo Satoru

"The cake needs decorating!" you protest through giggles as Gojo steals another fingerful of frosting, painting it across your collarbone before licking it off with a sly grin.

"I am decorating~," he argues playfully, blue eyes bright as he corners you against the counter, "Just found a much prettier dessert…" More frosted fingers trail down your inner thigh as he drops to his knees, "And it tastes so much sweeter too~"

You try to scold him, but his tongue darts out to lap up the frosting, leaving you shivering instead. He lifts your leg over his shoulder, giving him better access and making you clutch the edge of the countertop, your toes curling. He works slowly, teasingly, until he reaches your knee. By then, you're a shaking mess, whimpering softly, and when he suddenly pulls away, you're almost embarrassed by the needy sound you make.

He stands, licking his lips and smirking at the way you lean towards him, trying to pull him back into range, "I think you’re right though. Cake is more important."

"Mean!" you complain, and his smirk grows.

"Mean~?"

You nod, pouting slightly, "I'm gonna make sure you have blue balls forever now."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" he asks, and you shove him in the chest, only earning a laugh as he slowly sinks back down- his hands holding your legs apart before he huffs against your inner thigh, "Then again, i think i rather frost these pretty thighs instead…"

He glances up at you with a grin, "Now be a good girl and lift your leg back over my shoulder, I want to make sure I don't miss a spot."

You can't resist. You never could when it came to him.

With a shaky nod, you rest your heel on his shoulder, your leg trembling as he paints intricate patterns with the frosting before slowly, achingly, lapping them off.

"So delicious," he hums against your skin, kissing your inner thigh, "but…" his long lashes flutter as he nuzzles closer, "there's a part I've been dying to taste~"

"S-satoru-"

"Shhh~" he presses his mouth to your sex, his tongue darting out to taste you and you nearly scream, "Can't wait to stuff this pretty little cake with cream~"

╰┈➤ Geto Suguru

"You have flour on your nose," he chuckles warmly, swiping it off while you try to shape cookie dough hearts for Nanako and Mimiko. His arms wrap around your waist from behind, chin resting on crown of your head as he watches you struggle to make the dough do what you want. You try to keep focused, but his warm breath and body against yours makes you a little lightheaded.

"Y-you're distracting me," you complain without heat, melting back against his chest as he hums contentedly.

He steals a bit of dough, offering it to you with gentle fingers, "Can't help it," he murmurs, pressing soft kisses behind your ear, "You're too adorable in that apron, making treats just for the girls… I think I'll keep you."

Your cheeks heat at the praise, heart fluttering in your chest, and you're pretty sure you could live in this moment forever. Dropping the dough, you turn in his arms, leaving floury handprints on his dark robe as you pull him down for a kiss. He tastes like cookie dough and happiness, making you smile against his lips.

"The cookies will never get done at this rate," you whisper as he lifts you effortlessly onto a clean spot on the counter, settling between your legs with that tender smile you adore.

"There's plenty of time," he says simply, stealing another sweet kiss, deeper and longer this time, long fingers threading through your hair.

An hour goes by and the front door creaks open as two pairs of small feet patter inside from their adventures. Nanako and Mimiko pause at the living room entrance, twin grins spreading across their faces at the sight the find.

There on the couch, you and Geto are sound asleep, their papa’s arms wrapped protectively around you. His long dark hair is dusted white with flour and dried cookie dough crusted adorably on his nose. Your hair is equally disheveled, face mimicking his with equal parts dough and flour.

"Look! Look! They made cookies!" Mimiko whispers excitedly, pointing to the beautifully decorated plate on the small kitchen table.

Nanako spots the note and clutches her sister's hand, both girls beaming at the simple message you wrote: "Love you both ❤️"

⋆｡˚꒰ঌ 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ໒꒱˚｡⋆

[hy6erion]

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐬 ఌ

𝐕𝐢���𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮- 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭, 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝.

⇢ 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 (𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢), 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝! / 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞! / 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫), 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢��, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐳 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝

Viktor knew he was going to hell for this.

It started small—innocent, almost. At least, that’s what he told himself at first. You were his sweet, doting roommate, the one who always made sure he ate something that wasn’t just coffee and stale bread. The one who baked cookies late at night, humming some soft tune while their warmth filled the apartment. The one who, despite his sharp tongue and reclusive nature, still treated him with an affection he didn’t deserve.

He’d been fine admiring from a distance, stealing glances whenever you curled up on the couch with a book or stretched sleepily in the kitchen, unaware of how his golden eyes dragged over every inch of you. He’d been fine with that. Until one evening, he found something that shattered his self-control entirely.

It was a mistake, really. He hadn’t meant to go into your laundry basket—he was just looking for the clean dish towels you always kept neatly folded, but then he saw it.

White lace, soft and delicate, with pink satin bows.

Your lingerie.

Viktor had frozen, fingers twitching at his side as he stared at the matching bra and panties nestled between your other clothes. It was innocent enough, really—everyone wore undergarments. But this? This was something different. This was intimate, private, something that had been pressed against your soft skin, had hugged the curves he’d been secretly obsessed with for months.

His cock throbbed in his pants so hard it made his vision blur.

He should’ve put it back. Should’ve shut the basket and left the room.

But instead, Viktor reached out with trembling hands, feeling like an animal as he brushed his fingers over the lace. It was so soft. Delicate. Feminine. His breath was shallow, sharp as he let his thumb trace the pink bows on the waistband of the panties.

God.

He groaned under his breath, his body igniting with something filthy and desperate. He imagined you wearing them—imagined how the lace would press against your cunt, how it would hug the swell of your hips. His hand tightened around the fabric before he could stop himself, and before he could even process the depravity of what he was doing, he was stuffing the lingerie into his coat pocket and limping hurriedly to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

His heart was pounding, his cock already straining against his slacks as he yanked the stolen fabric from his pocket, staring at it like a starving man. He sat heavily on the edge of his bed, his cane clattering to the floor as he leaned forward, clutching your panties in his hands like a relic.

The scent of your detergent, that soft floral fragrance you always smelled like, flooded his senses.

Viktor groaned, shoving the lace against his face, inhaling deep as his other hand fumbled desperately with his belt. He was already leaking, his tip smearing pre-cum against the inside of his pants as he freed himself, hissing when his fist wrapped around his cock.

“F-fuck,” he choked, hips twitching as he stroked himself, the stolen lingerie pressed firmly to his nose.

He was disgusting. A perverted, pathetic bastard who was jerking off to his own roommate’s panties like a deviant.

But he didn’t care.

The image of you burned behind his eyelids as he fisted his cock, squeezing tight at the base as he imagined peeling the lace down your thighs, imagined the way it would stick to the slick between your legs when he finally got his hands on you. He imagined pushing them aside, dragging his fingers through your folds, feeling how warm and wet you’d be—

His hips bucked, a desperate, strangled groan ripping from his throat as his cock twitched in his grip. The pressure built too fast, his body overwhelmed with how filthy this was, how fucking wrong it was, but he couldn’t stop. He was gasping, panting like a dog as he thrust up into his fist, chasing the heat curling in his stomach.

“Mmhh—fuck, fuck,” he gritted through clenched teeth, your name slipping from his lips in a desperate whimper.

The thought of you catching him like this—seeing him sprawled out on his bed, red-faced and desperate, his cock throbbing in his hand while he moaned into your panties—made his pleasure spike dangerously fast.

He came with a guttural moan, thick ropes of cum spilling over his fingers, dripping down onto his stomach as his body shuddered violently. His grip on the lace tightened, his cock twitching as he milked himself through the aftershocks, his mind a hazy mess of lust and obsession.

Viktor sagged against the bed, breathless and trembling.

But even as he stared at the soiled fabric in his hands, shame pooling heavy in his chest, he already knew—

This wouldn’t be the last time. Viktor should have stopped.

He should have shoved your lingerie back into your laundry basket and never touched it again. Should have avoided you the next day, put distance between you, done something—anything—to keep himself from spiraling further into this sick obsession.

But the problem was, he couldn’t.

Because the next time he saw you, you smiled at him.

Soft and sweet, like you always did, completely unaware of what he’d done the night before. You had flour dusting your cheek, your oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder as you pushed a plate of warm cookies toward him.

“Made your favorite,” you chirped. “You’ve been working too hard again, Vik.”

And fuck—fuck, you had no idea.

No idea that just hours ago, he had your panties shoved in his face while he came all over himself, moaning your name like a desperate little pervert. No idea that even now, as you stood there with your soft smile and your innocent eyes, he still had them tucked beneath his pillow, waiting for him to ruin them again.

He barely managed to thank you, his voice hoarse, tight. You just beamed, completely oblivious as you turned back to the kitchen, humming a tune under your breath while you washed dishes.

And Viktor just sat there, staring at you, burning the image into his mind.

That night, he fucked himself to the thought of you again. And again. And again.

—

It didn’t take long for things to spiral further.

Viktor became reckless.

At first, he only stole one pair. But then he found himself rifling through your laundry again, fingers shaking as he pocketed another—something soft and baby pink, satin this time, with tiny white ribbons. He stole a bra too, one that still had the faintest scent of your perfume clinging to the cups, and it made his cock throb so hard he nearly dropped to his knees right then and there.

He spent nights unraveling in his bed, fisting his cock with your lingerie pressed to his nose, moaning your name like a desperate, filthy thing. He dragged the lace over his shaft, letting the delicate fabric catch on the sensitive head, whimpering at the friction.

One night, he nearly lost himself completely.

He came so hard his vision blacked out for a moment, his cum spilling over the soft lace of your stolen panties, soaking them, ruining them. He should have felt ashamed, should have panicked at the evidence of his depravity.

But instead, he just… brought them to his lips, sucking the taste of himself from the fabric, groaning at the thought of you wearing them like this—sticky, stained, his.

He was fucked. Completely, irredeemably fucked.

And then you started to notice.

One morning, as you sorted through your laundry, you frowned.

“Huh,” you muttered, rifling through the pile. “Weird. I swear I had more underwear than this.”

Viktor froze.

You were standing right in front of him, completely oblivious to the way his breath had just hitched, his fingers clenching around the edge of his book.

“Maybe they got lost somewhere in my room,” you mused, tapping your chin before shrugging. “Oh well. Guess I’ll just buy more.”

And then, as if you hadn’t just unknowingly set his whole body on fire, you stretched, your sweater riding up to expose a sliver of your bare stomach.

Viktor swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Vik,” you whined, pouting at him. “Can you help me tomorrow? I need to reorganize my closet.”

That was the moment he knew he was going to die.

Because your closet. Your closet was where you kept everything.

Your dresses. Your stockings. Your lingerie.

Viktor barely managed to nod, his pulse thundering in his ears.

“Good!” You beamed, reaching out to ruffle his hair playfully before disappearing into your room, humming.

And Viktor sat there, trembling.

He needed to get a grip. He needed to stop.

But he already knew—when night fell, when the apartment was quiet and you were fast asleep—he would be between his sheets, your stolen panties in his fist, fucking himself into oblivion like a filthy, desperate man.

—

Viktor had never been good at resisting temptation.

The moment you had mentioned reorganizing your closet, he’d known he was fucked. Because he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it—about all the things you kept tucked away behind those doors, soft lace and delicate fabrics that had graced your skin, kissed your curves.

So, when night fell and you were curled up in bed, unaware, Viktor found himself standing in front of your door.

He had no excuse this time. No justification.

He was doing something unforgivable.

But that didn’t stop him.

With a shaking hand, he turned the knob, the door creaking softly as it opened. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the city lights through the curtains. He could hear your soft, steady breathing from the bed.

As quietly as he could, he stepped inside.

His heart was hammering, his pulse a deafening roar in his ears as he made his way to the closet, careful, slow. His leg ached with every movement, but the sharp bite of pain barely registered past the haze of arousal clouding his mind.

He swallowed hard as he pulled open one of the drawers.

And there it was.

Stacks of neatly folded lingerie—silks, lace, pastels, all things soft and delicate. All things that belonged to you.

Viktor exhaled shakily, his fingers trembling as he reached for a pair.

White lace, dainty pink ribbons.

His cock twitched violently, pressing insistently against his trousers.

God, he was fucking depraved.

He brought the fabric to his face, inhaling deep, his lashes fluttering as your scent filled his lungs.

And then—

“Viktor?”

The voice was soft, thick with sleep.

His entire body seized.

Slowly, his head turned, terror gripping him as he met your sleepy, drowsy gaze. You were sitting up in bed, blinking at him, your hair mussed from sleep.

The panties were still clutched in his hand.

The silence stretched thick between you, suffocating.

Then— “…Are you stealing my underwear?”

Your voice was gentle. No anger. Just confusion.

Viktor’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. His mind was blank, burning with shame, his hands shaking as he fumbled for words, an excuse, something.

But then— Your expression softened.

“Oh, Vik,” you sighed, rubbing at your eyes, voice still thick with sleep. “You could’ve just told me you were frustrated.”

Something inside him snapped.

His body moved before his mind could catch up, crossing the room in uneven, desperate strides. The panties fell from his grasp as his hands cupped your face, his fingers trembling against your soft skin.

“You—” His voice was hoarse, almost wrecked. “You don’t understand—”

You looked up at him, wide-eyed, still so unbearably sweet, so soft, and he couldn’t—he couldn’t hold back.

His lips crashed against yours, hot and needy, swallowing the soft gasp that escaped you. His fingers curled into your hair, tilting your head back as he devoured you, pouring every ounce of desperation, every filthy, pent-up fantasy into the kiss.

And you—oh, you melted against him so easily, your arms looping around his neck, a small, needy noise slipping from your throat as you kissed him back.

That was all it took.

Viktor groaned, pushing you back against the bed, his body caging yours beneath him as his hands roamed, desperate, hungry.

“You have no idea,” he breathed against your lips, his voice trembling. “No idea what you do to me—how long I’ve wanted—”

His hands found the hem of your sleep shirt, shoving it up, groaning when he realized you weren’t wearing a bra. His fingers dragged over the swell of your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples, and you whimpered beneath him, arching into his touch.

“Viktor—”

“Shhh” he hushed, his mouth trailing down your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “Let me have you. Let me show you how desperate you’ve made me.”

You shivered, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips traveled lower, lower, down your stomach.

When he reached the waistband of your panties, he groaned.

Pink. Satin. Tiny white bows.

Just like the pair he had ruined nights before.

Viktor was breaking. No—he was already broken.

He had lost control the second you looked up at him with those soft, innocent eyes, completely unaware of how deeply you’d wrecked him.

He needed you.

Not wanted. Needed.

His body was trembling as he pulled your soaked panties down, peeling the damp fabric from your skin, his breathing ragged, uneven. His fingers clenched tight around the delicate fabric, and fuck, it was wet—sticky with your slick, the scent of you hitting him so hard his cock twitched violently, already leaking inside his trousers.

“Fuck.” He groaned—low, wrecked, almost pained.

His fingers flexed as he spread your thighs apart, and then—

God.

He stared. Your cunt was so wet, glistening in the dim light, your slick already dripping down onto the sheets, so fucking messy—so needy—just for him.

“Shit—look at you,” he rasped, his voice shaking.

Your thighs trembled, your hands gripping the sheets. “Vik—”

He let out a harsh, uneven breath. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. He was drowning in you.

His hands clutched at your thighs, desperate, shaking. “You’re dripping,” he whispered, his eyes dark, wild. “All this… just for me?”

You let out a soft whimper, flustered, squirming beneath his gaze.

He lost it.

A sharp, choked noise left him as he lurched forward, his lips crashing against your inner thigh, biting, sucking, worshipping. He couldn’t stop. He needed to taste you—needed you all over his mouth, his fingers, his cock.

You gasped, back arching, hips twitching as he pressed his nose to your soaked folds, inhaling deep, his entire body shuddering.

“Fuck, I need—need to—” He didn’t even know what he was saying anymore.

His hands shook as he slid his fingers through your slick folds, his breath catching as his skin glided over yours. You were so fucking wet it made him ache, made him shake with the need to be inside you.

“Vik—please,” you whimpered, your voice so sweet, so shy.

He growled.

“Please what?” His voice was rough, desperate, his fingers circling your entrance, teasing, barely pushing inside. “Tell me.”

You swallowed hard, hips twitching. “Please—touch me.”

His jaw clenched. His cock throbbed.

“Fuck.”

He shoved a finger inside you. You gasped sharply, your walls clenching down hard around him.

“Shit, you’re—” He whimpered—actually whimpered—as your tight, pulsing heat sucked his finger in, your slick coating him, so fucking warm, so perfect.

“You’re squeezing me already,” he choked out, his head falling forward, his forehead pressing against your thigh. “God, I—”

He pushed in deeper, his breathing ragged, his entire body shaking.

“Feels—so—fuck—so good,” he groaned.

You let out a soft, desperate noise, squirming. “Vik—”

His cock ached.

“More,” he gasped, “need more—”

He shoved a second finger inside you, stretching you open, and you sobbed, your body jerking, your thighs trembling.

His breath hitched. “Shit—shit, you feel so good—”

He was moving before he could even think, his fingers curling deep, rubbing against that spot— And you cried out.

Your walls clenched, your body jerking, slick gushing down his hand.

Viktor groaned, his entire body shaking.

“That’s it—” He moaned, his fingers moving faster, rubbing, pressing, forcing your body to break. “Again. Give me—fuck, give me more—”

A sharp gasp. A full-body tremor.

“Ohhh, fuck—!”

Your body seized, your thighs jerked, and then— You gushed.

Your release splashed against his fingers, soaking his hand, spilling down onto the sheets, so messy, so fucking perfect.

Viktor whined.

“God, you squirt?” His voice was wrecked, slurred, his fingers trembling. “Fucking—oh, fuck, look at you—”

Your face burned, your hands clenching in the sheets, your entire body trembling.

“I—” You gasped, a sob breaking in your throat. “I don’t—ah—!”

Another curl of his fingers, another deep press against that spot, and you gushed again, messy, dripping, soaking his wrist.

Viktor groaned, his cock leaking, precum pouring into his trousers, the fabric already damp from how fucking desperate he was.

“Again,” he rasped, “fuck, do it again—”

You sobbed, wrecked, your entire body trembling, and still, he didn’t stop—he wouldn’t let you stop.

Another press. Another stroke.

And then— You screamed. Your back arched, your hips jerked, your release dripping out of you, splashing onto his fingers, his wrist, the sheets beneath you.

“Fucking hell,” Viktor whined, barely able to breathe. “You’re so—so messy—”

You whimpered, shaking, utterly ruined, utterly his.

And Viktor—Viktor hadn’t even fucked you yet.

His golden eyes were dark, wild, starving, his soaked fingers trembling as he brought them to your lips.

“Taste yourself” he whispered, his voice wrecked, desperate.

Your lips parted, your tongue flicking out—

And Viktor snapped. Because he needed you now. And he wasn’t stopping until you were crying his name.

Every last shred of control had snapped the moment he saw you squirt, saw your body convulse under his touch, felt your release gush out, soaking his hand, the sheets, everything.

And the way you looked at him afterward—eyes dazed, lips parted, your trembling little body trying so hard to recover—

He had to ruin you.

He couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.

Not until you were his.

Not until he was buried so deep inside you, until you were sobbing with pleasure, until his cum was dripping out of you, marking you, claiming you.

“I—” His voice came out broken, ragged. His fingers curled tighter around your thighs, his whole body shaking. “I can’t—can’t wait anymore—”

Your breath hitched, your soft thighs twitching against his hands.

“Vik—”

He choked out a groan at the sound of his name on your lips, desperate and needy.

“Tell me you want it.” His forehead dropped to your thigh, his voice wrecked. “Tell me you want me inside you—please, I can’t—I need—”

Your fingers threaded into his hair, your nails lightly scratching at his scalp, and Viktor whined, bucking forward, rutting into the mattress like some desperate, depraved thing.

“I want you, Viktor.” Your voice was so sweet, so soft—too sweet for the filthy, depraved things he wanted to do to you. “Please—need you to fill me up—”

Fucking hell.

Viktor let out a shaky, broken noise, his hands fumbling frantically at his belt. He was so desperate, so fucking shaky, it took him three tries to undo the buckle before he was shoving his trousers down his thighs, gasping as his cock finally sprang free.

His tip was flushed angry red, already leaking, smeared with precum—so fucking sensitive from watching you fall apart under his fingers.

He barely had the sense to wrap a hand around himself, stroking once, spreading the slick down his length, before he was reaching for you, gripping your thighs, dragging you down the bed until you were under him, where you belonged.

“Viktor—”

Your voice was so soft, so sweet, and Viktor shuddered, dropping down, pressing his forehead to yours.

His cock was right there—so close, nudging up against your messy, soaked entrance, already dripping, already needing.

“I—I can’t—” Viktor’s voice was wrecked, desperate, his hips twitching, barely holding himself back. “I need to be inside you—need to feel you—please’—”

You reached up, cupped his face, kissed him—and that was it.

A broken, choked moan tore from his throat as he thrust forward, sliding into you in one deep stroke and fucking hell, you were tight.

“Shit—!” Viktor whimpered, his entire body shaking, his cock aching from the way your walls squeezed down around him, sucking him in, holding him so deep.

You sobbed, your nails digging into his back, your thighs trembling against his hips.

“Oh my god—” Your voice was so wrecked, so sweet, and Viktor couldn’t—he couldn’t.

“Too tight—” he gasped, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his fingers gripping at your waist so hard he’d leave bruises. “F-fuck, you’re—you’re squeezing me so much, I—”

Your walls fluttered around him, your body still adjusting, and Viktor whined, shaking, his hips already trying to move, already trying to fuck you.

“You feel so good,” he gasped against your neck, panting, shuddering. “I—oh, fuck, I’m going to—”

He had to move.

His hips drew back, his cock dragging against your walls—sticky, soaked—before he thrust back in, burying himself deep and you sobbed, your legs trembling, your fingers clutching at him.

“Viktor—!”

“Fuck—fuck—” His voice was so wrecked, shaking, desperate. “You’re perfect—so fucking perfect—”

He couldn’t stop. Couldn’t slow down.

Couldn’t do anything but fuck you, deep, desperate, shaking, his hips slamming against yours, his cock pounding into your wet, tight heat—

Your sweet little sobs only made it worse.

“You’re crying—” he gasped, watching as your lashes clumped together, fat tears spilling down your cheeks. “Are you crying for me? Is it too much?”

You shook your head frantically, your hands gripping his shoulders. “No—feels—so—so good—!”

Viktor moaned, his thrusts deepening, his cock bruising your cervix, every wet, filthy stroke dragging against that sweet spot inside you—

And then— Your walls fluttered.

Your body tensed.

“V-Vik—!”

Viktor felt it the second you broke.

Your walls clamped down, locking him inside, your sweet, soft cunt milking him, sucking him in and you screamed, body jerking, pleasure ripping through you as you came hard, convulsing around his cock, so fucking tight—

Viktor saw white.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—!” He snarled, his vision blurring, his hips slamming forward, burying himself deep—

He came.

His body jerked, his cock pulsing, and then heat flooded you.

“Fuck—f-fuck—” Viktor whimpered, his hips twitching, pushing deeper, shoving himself inside you as his cum poured out, filling you so deep, so full—

And he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

He kept thrusting, slow, deep, pushing his cum deeper inside you, stuffing you full, ruining you— Until finally, finally, he collapsed.

Viktor shuddered, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath ragged, his body twitching with aftershocks.

His cock was still buried deep, plugging you up, keeping every last drop inside.

You were whimpering, soft, tired, wrecked.

Viktor groaned, pressing a sloppy, desperate kiss to your lips.

“Mine,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “You’re mine.”

Your lashes fluttered, your soft, messy hands cupping his face.

“I’m yours, Viktor.”

And fuck, Viktor felt his cock twitch again, already hardening inside you.

Because he wasn’t done.

Not until he’d filled you again.

And again.

And again.

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Crush

Pairing: Warriors x Reader

Warning(s): N/a :)))

Notes: Inspired by this post by @hxney-lemcn! Hope you enjoy <333

Masterlist

It was a beautiful morning in Castle Town.

The scent of fresh-baked bread wafted through the warm air as the streets filled with a steady influx of people, accompanied by chattering voices and the measured thump-crunch of rolling carriage wheels. The sun shone in the cloudless sky, and it would be rude to complain when the golden rays brought a fresh throng of customers to your humble bakery.

Let it never be said that waking up in a body that wasn't yours—at least, you thought it wasn't yours, but everything was up to interpretation at this point—wasn't a jarring experience that had taken many, many months to truly grasp with all the brainpower you possessed, especially when memories of what could only be described as another world flooded your dreams, soaking them in fever-tinted insanity.

Especially when you realized the world was not your own.

Especially when you realized that world was the titilating world of the esteemed video game 'Hyrule Warriors'.

E—

Ding!

You raised your head at the noise of the front door opening, setting the newly revised menu sheet back on the oak counter, expression falling into a winning smile that felt almost robotic in nature. "Welcome to Selma's Bakery. How may I help..."

The words seemed to die in your throat as the tall, blonde man sauntered in, boots tapping softly against the hardwood. An embroidered royal-blue scarf fluttered behind him, clashing horribly with the eye-insulting lawn-green of his tunic, banishing every assumption you could have had on who he was.

This was Link.

Link of Castletown.

Link, the Hero of Courage.

Link, the only male video game character that you had ever considered in the deep, dark recesses of insomnia.

And he was looking directly at you.

"...you?"

It was with bated breath that you watched the Hero of Hyrule strut forward, not stopping until he was close enough to lean an elbow on the sturdy upholstery of the counter, gaze flicking to the menu. For a split second, his brows furrowed, though the expression was gone before you could fully process its meaning, and he flashed a smile that was as dangerous as it was charming. "I'll have a slice of fruitcake," he hummed, and you nearly choked when a wink was shot in your direction. "And your name, if you would."

Nope.

Before you knew it, you were turning on your heel and practically scrambling through the door leading to the back, ignoring the shocked gasping noise from the hero behind you. Anya, the other baker on duty, raised her head at your abrupt entrance. A piping bag sat heavy in her hands, the tip hovered over the golden crust of an egg tart.

You didn't waste a breath. "Switch with me."

Her face scrunched in confusion, yet she still set the bag aside, arms folding over her chest. A perfect blonde eyebrow raised, but she didn't look too judgmental. Yet. "What? Why?"

Hylia above, you did not have time for this, which is why you softened your expression imploringly and prayed she'd gotten enough sleep the night prior to honor your totally-reasonable request. "Please switch. With me."

Anya craned her neck to peer through the small window in the door. If she at all noticed the fact that Link, the Hero of Hyrule, was standing at the counter, drumming his fingers on the wood like an impatient child, she made no mention of it, instead motioning towards the half-prepped tarts. "Fine, but these better be piped by the time I get back or there'll be hell to pay."

"I literally love you," you breathed, and she rolled her eyes, moving towards the door.

"Whatever. I should be thanking you for letting me steal your tips."

With a creak of old hinges, your friend was gone, and you quickly busied yourself at the workstation to finish the rest of the tarts. They weren't the bakery's most popular item, but they were up there, and thus made fresh every morning. As you worked, a short tune filtered from your lips, the remnant of an aforementioned fever dream that just couldn't seem to stop plaguing your poor mind with visions that were equal parts glorious and insane.

The night was dark, yet the light cast across your face couldn't have been brighter. A flickering screen filled every inch of your vision, emblazoned with a vision of your favorite Hyrulean hero—

No! Bad thoughts!

Your palms stung as you unintentionally slammed them down on the counter, jarring up a puff of flour that shot straight to your face. "Fuck!" you screeched; hands flying upwards, eyes squeezed shut in a split-second of post-fangirl insanity. Life in Hyrule, a place you'd once dreamed of with all the fervency of a rabid teenager with nothing better to do, wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and you weren't sure your heart could take discovering whether the so-called Hero of Hyrule really was all he was cracked up to be. Not that you had doubts, per se, but the real world had a habit of ruining things, and there was no way in hell you would allow it to do that to this too.

The hairs on the back of your neck jumped to attention when Anya swung back in, patting her hands against the off-white fabric of her apron before flashing a suspiciously shiny rupee your way. "You're an idiot, you know."

You leveled her with a flat look, halfheartedly wondering if a tart to the face would make any difference in her next words. What was one itty-bitty dessert, anyway? "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"He's not going to bite," she stepped forward, damn-near sashaying in what you could only assume was smug triumph at having once again stolen your tips. "Unless you're into that?"

You pursed your lips and shot the wall a prim look. You were above this. Probably. "Who's 'he'? I have no recollection of who you speak of."

This time, it was Anya's turn to shoot you a horribly flat look, though it was peppered with a healthy sprinkling of motherly disappointment and bestie snark. "The man who just asked if you were having a cardiac emergency or normally like that."

You damn near choked on your own saliva. "He— what?!"

Your coworker rolled her eyes, shoving the rupee in her pocket when it didn't seem to phase you. "You're not going to ask what I told him?"

"I—" you paused, turned to face her, and glanced through the window on the door to confirm that the Hero of Hyrule had indeed vacated the premises. "—don't think I want to."

Anya snorted, looking spectacularly unimpressed. "Suit yourself," she shrugged, apparently just as done with the debacle as you were. A beat passed, and your blood ran cold when she shot you a sinister smile that screamed trouble and many laughs at your expense. "We're out of fruitcake, by the way."

You buried your head in your hands and wept for mercy.

Mercy was not, in fact, granted.

"Fucking hell," you grunted in a manner most certainly inappropriate for a humble baker, muscles straining as you struggled to heft the flour bag over your head. Two days had passed since Link—the Hero of Hyrule and Savior of... well, everything—entered your shop with his titillating request, and you were doing everything in your power to avoid comprehending it longer than strictly or morally necessary, even if it meant waking up at the asscrack of dawn to relinquish the week's flour from the Granary. Especially if it meant waking up at the asscrack of dawn to relinquish the week's flour from the Granary. Hard labor usually did the trick, so why wouldn't it now?

Back screaming and legs cursing, you straightened to the best of your meager abilities, readying the last bag with a sigh absolutely worthy of someone twice your age. A dollop of flour drizzled from one of the fraying corners, and you just barely managed to contain another slew of colorful language when it dusted the side of your tunic and the tops of your left boot as they peeked out from the grassy cover. You just washed those!

A glimmer of gold on the horizon caught your eye, momentarily tearing your mind from the drudgery in its brilliance. You'd never understand why the flour couldn't be picked up a day prior, but the sunrise was another story.

There was no denying it: Hyrule was beautiful. Flawed and terrifying, but woven with more mystery and magic than you supposed even the staunchest fangirl could handle. Not even your self-inflicted aversion to the Hero of the land could stifle that.

But.

You adjusted the sack and began the trek down the hill—where a small cart waited—trying and failing to once again distance yourself from... whatever this was.

But.

What if he was a jackass? Or his voice was not as hot as Nintendo tricked you into believing it was? Or the second you spoke to him everything would burst into flames because life was a simulation—

"That looks heavy," someone with a very familiar voice commented, and your neck damn-near cracked from how quickly your head swung to face the blonde twink himself.

Link was here.

Link was also just as spectacularly attractive as he had been in the bakery, and it was with great fangirl sorrow that you had to acknowledge how good the man looked with his back to the sunset.

You halfheartedly wondered how much jail time assaulting him with a flour sack would earn you.

"It's not," you said in a voice that sounded like it was two octaves from impersonating a squeaky toy, and prayed to whatever deity was watching that, out of all men, this one would know to take 'no' for an answer. Maybe. Hopefully. Hyrule wasn't as weird about gender as your world, though it was old-fashioned.

A perfectly manicured eyebrow ticked in your direction as the hero seemed to consider his next words carefully. He was close enough that you could feel his presence in the depths of your soul—a pounding realization that was all the more painful when you realized dropping the flour was your only true shot at escaping what was quickly turning out to be a PR disaster and a half, assuming you didn't just want to roll down the hill like a dumpling—yet farther than anyone you'd received the reluctant pleasure of meeting. His eyes were a cerulean that not even state-of-the-art Nintendo graphics could justify, and you could have sworn that the Goddesses blessed each whisp of hair connected to his head from the way they shone in the creeping light.

"You're shaking," the Hero pointed out in a tone that brokered only minimal argument. He was right, and he looked devastatingly rugged while doing so. Your hands fisted in the thick sackcloth, nails threatening to claw it open with the slightest wayward move. Another, softer smile was flashed your way as the mask slipped snugly back into place. "At least allow me to accompany you—I promise I'm more company than I look."

How did he know? Weren't stick-straight twinks supposed to be oblivious? It would seem Tumblr had deceived you once more, though at least this time was marginally less embarrassing than the time you attempted to speak to a customer in Hyrulean Sign at the owner's anniversary dinner.

"...Don't you have better things to do?" you asked, not unkindly. The bag was beginning to slip, but you were determined to see this through, whether it included harassment from this blonde twink or not.

But the hero wasn't to be deterred. In a motion that would have put the staunchest assassin to shame, he hauled the bag from your shaking arms, tossed it over his shoulder, and started down the path towards the cart.

Openmouthed, you stared—because he was the type to carry small children around and simultaneously leave a trail of women behind in the wake of his competency, which absolutely had to be studied.

...Until the reality that your goods had been stolen by this heathen in obnoxious green crashed down harder than any fandom reality check and you took off after him, boots skidding across the ground as you stopped just a few feet away, arms extended.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

Link paused, eyebrow raised. He was still smiling, like it was something he employed often to get what he wanted, and you hated that it was working. "Helping a citizen in need," he said cooly, adjusting the bag a bit more snugly over his shoulder.

Your mouth opened, then closed, and the bastard took the opportunity to slip right past you, humming a tune that sooner belonged in his imagination than anywhere else.

"Hey!"

I really wanted this to be longer but the story was just not storying T-T

[thinkshespretty]

chris always knows how to make crybaby!reader forgive him

it’s a quiet, lazy afternoon. the soft hum of the tv plays in the background as sunlight filters through the windows, casting a warm glow across the living room. you’re curled up on the couch, wrapped in your favorite blanket while scrolling through your phone.

after a while, your mind drifts to the pastry you saved in the fridge—the last piece from your favorite bakery. the thought alone makes you smile, and you head to the kitchen, ready to indulge.

but when you open the fridge, the little white box isn’t there.

you frown, scanning every shelf. nothing. you even check the freezer and a few random cabinets, despite knowing that makes no sense. after a solid five minutes of searching, frustration bubbles up.

you stomp back into the living room. “chris?”

he glances up from his phone, eyebrows raised. “yeah?”

“where’s my pastry?” you ask, arms crossed.

there’s a beat of silence before he responds. “uh…” he shifts slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “i might’ve eaten it.”

your eyes widen. “you ate it?”

“i was hungry!” he admits, throwing his hands up. “and it was just sitting there, looking all lonely. i didn’t think you’d mind.”

you stare at him, your bottom lip already trembling. “you knew it was my favorite,” you whisper, voice wobbling.

chris immediately picks up on your pout and the tears forming in your eyes. he’s seen this play out countless times. still, he can’t help but chuckle softly. “oh no, princess. don’t cry,” he teases, reaching out for you. “you’re breaking my heart.”

“good,” you mumble, turning away from him dramatically. “i hope it hurts.”

he chuckles before pulling you onto his lap despite your protests. “i’m the worst, huh?”

“the absolute worst,” you mumble, crossing your arms tightly.

chris sighs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “okay, okay. i messed up. i’ll make it up to you.”

“how?” you ask, still sulking.

“let me take you to get another one.”

you hesitate for a moment, glancing up at him from under your teary lashes. “really?”

“really,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “now go grab your shoes, before i change my mind.”

the drive across town is quiet, the streets bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. chris keeps one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh, the soft touch of his thumb drawing lazy circles over your skin.

you steal a glance at him, admiring the relaxed way he leans back in the seat, a small smirk playing on his lips as he hums along to the music. when he catches you staring, he raises an eyebrow.

“what?” he asks, amusement lacing his voice.

“nothing,” you mumble, turning your gaze to the window to hide your blush.

he chuckles softly, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. “you’re so pretty, you know that?”

your cheeks heat even more. “chris,” you mutter, voice shy.

“what?” he grins, glancing at you briefly before focusing back on the road. “just telling the truth, doll.”

you bite your lip to suppress a smile but fail miserably. “shut up.”

“never,” he teases with a grin.

the bakery is as charming as ever, with warm cozy hues and shelves lined with baked goods that look almost too perfect to eat. the scent of fresh bread and sugar fills the air, wrapping around you like a hug.

you hover near the display case, eyes scanning the pastries. the one you’re looking for is right there, sitting pretty in the middle row.

chris notices and nudges you gently. “see something you like?”

you nod, pointing at the pastry. “that one,” you whisper softly, voice barely above a whisper.

he leans in, pretending he didn’t hear you. “what was that, princess?”

“that one,” you repeat, giving him a small glare.

he smirks but doesn’t push further. “got it.” turning to the barista, he orders confidently. “two of those, please. and a coffee.”

you tug on his sleeve. “can i get a hot chocolate instead?”

he smiles at you before turning back to the cashier. “make that one coffee and one hot chocolate.”

the barista rings you up, and before you can even reach for your wallet, chris pulls out his card.

“chris,” you pout, tugging at his sleeve again. “i can pay for mine.”

“nope. making it up to you, remember?” he says with a wink.

you sigh but can’t help smiling as you clutch the little bag, the warmth of the hot chocolate seeping through the cup into your hands.

the ride back feels even softer, the sky now painted in hues of pink and orange. chris keeps his hand on your thigh again, his touch warm and steady. you take small sips of your hot chocolate, savoring the sweetness.

chris glances over, catching the way your eyes light up. “good?”

you hum around a bite, nodding enthusiastically. “perfect,” you mumble.

he chuckles, squeezing your thigh. “told you i’d make it up to you.”

you roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away. “you’re so annoying.”

just as you’re about to take another bite, you catch chris side-eyeing the pastry. before you can react, he leans over and takes a bite out of it, grinning like he’s just won a prize.

“chris!” you yelp, pulling the pastry away from him and swatting his arm. “you just bought me this!”

“couldn’t resist.” he laughs as he wipes the small crumbs off the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand.

“you’re the worst!” you pout, holding the pastry protectively.

“i know,” he says, still grinning. “but you love me anyway.”

you huff, but the warmth in his voice makes it impossible to stay mad. “you’re just lucky you’re cute chris.”

he laughs before stopping at the red light, turning towards you. you give him a hard glare before he peppers your cheek with kisses and you can’t help but giggle. because no matter what chris does, you know there’s no one else you’d rather spend your days with.

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: thank u sm to @abbystromboli for this request!! i hope this lived up to your expectations :))

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⋆˚࿔ ౨ৎ ˚. ᵎᵎ @sirenedeslily @freshloveee @ifwdominicfike @matt5sturnioloo @pleasebendmeoverxxx @heartsforsturniolo567 @anyaa2s

[primluvsbob]

in honor of thunderbolts finally releasing and the fans finally getting old avengers ffs, here’s my little take on some head canons!!

♫ — nothing’ s gonna stop us now - starship

YELENA

— i can honestly see yelena become weirdly obsessed with plants. there would be plants on every windowsill in the campus. her fav would definitely be the tiny succulents. bob would probably ask why shes so into them, and yelena would shrug, give some bland answer like, “they look nice.” but really, it’s because for once, she can hold onto something fragile in her hands and know exactly how to take care of it. something that stays. just like the thunderbolts did.

— has soft spots for animals (as we can clearly tell in thunderbolts when she took the guinea pig with her). if she finds a stray cat wandering around close to campus, she’d give them food and water for the rest of their lives. would most likely take it into the campus too.

— yelena and bob have a tradition that whenever they’re feeling down they watch baking shows together. it usually always ends in the duo trying to make some sort of bread from scratch at 2am.

— since the thunderbolts would all have their own hobbies… yelena didn’t want to be the odd one out and found peace in puzzles. not the small ones that are 100 pieces… but the ones that are 1000 pieces. she’ll sit there for hours in total silence.

BUCKY

— there’s definitely low jazz music playing all throughout the campus, and it’s all bucky’s doing. no one really complains, it becomes kind of comforting, especially when they get back from a particularly draining mission.

— the thunderbolts are the family that bucky always deserved. therefore, whenever one of them gets injured, he seems calm, but deep down, he’s already spiraling, running every worst case scenario in his head. it takes everything in him not to hover 24/7 until they’re okay again.

— he’s the teams handy man. leaky sink? squeaky door? outlet not working? he already noticed and is taking care of it.

— gets way too competitive during board game nights. like, way too serious. bob usually ends up playing mediator because the entire team is just as competitive as bucky is. who’s the final person to flip the board?? it probably switches every weekend.

BOB

— always has one of those massive stanley's in hand and is annoyingly good at reminding people to stay hydrated. "have you had water today yet?" is his catchphrase.

- legos... don't even mention the word around him unless you're prepared to lose an hour of your time. he'll tell you about the latest set he built, exactly how many pieces it had, and how long it took (with yelena as his self appointed timekeeper).

- loves survival games like minecraft, raft, and terraria, and is constantly trying to convince the rest of the team to join him. so far, the only one who's caved in is alexei. alexei definitely died in the games more than five times but bob refuses to lose hope now.

— bob calls everything with pronouns. he sees a tree? "oh, she's so pretty!" a nice car? "he's cool." a really good painting? "she's perfect." at first, the team teased him relentlessly about it but the longer they were around bob, the more it rubbed off on everyone else. now alexei's out here saying "she's a beaut!" about their new flatscreen tv, and ava casually refers to their new mission van as "she" like it's the most normal thing ever. bucky was the only one who didn't pick up on the habit, until bob caught him one day, muttering "she's good." about his motorcycle. bob hasn't let him live it down since.

AVA

— ava is always cold, which explains why she’s constantly stealing hoodies from certain people. she’s usually bundled up in blankets and scarves, especially the one alexei made for the whole team. she takes care of that scarf like it’s part of her lifeline.

— an avid coffee hater. john once accidentally handed her a cup of coffee instead of tea, and she didn’t speak to him for a full week. but, of course, he had no idea… totally.

— constantly scares people since her footsteps are basically silent. bob swears she’s doing it on purpose because it’s always him that jumps, but really… he’s just the only one jumpy enough to get caught off guard every single time.

— secretly the best at remembering birthdays and little anniversaries. she’s the reason the team always has a card or small gift ready in time. every card is picked out by her, and she’s the one making sure the whole team signs it.

ALEXEI

- gets OBSESSED with musicals after a certain someone (yelena) makes him watch wicked. is honestly convinced that he could be a broadway star... his fav musical would probably be hadestown.

— he strikes me as someone who'd be scarily good at card games. everyone's definitely convinced he's cheating.

- if you've seen alexa and katie then: remember that one episode where alexa's dad became obsessed with making the perfect brisket and stayed up hours straight just for it to be perfect for his daughter... yeah alexei would do that for yelena.

- learns how to knit over the year just so he can make the thunderbolts matching scarves to wear for the holidays. <3

JOHN

— a neat freak... if someone misses their chore of the day, even if it's barely past 6am, he's already halfway through doing it. grumbles about how "no one around here cleans up after themselves." but secretly? he kind of loves being productive. and having everything exactly the way he likes.

- hates texting. he's dry all the time, and usually is just straight to the point. his emoji rotation is limited to: 👍, 👎, 👋, and 👌

- acts like he doesn't care about team movie nights but is always the one to show up with an armful of snacks, and sits through the whole movie with minimal complaints.

— he owns exactly one hoodie. it's the perfect size, just the right amount of fluffiness, but still breathable. and somehow, it's always missing. one day yelena's wearing it, the next it's draped over bob's chair, alexei uses it as a fashion choice (wrapped around his waist), ava claims to borrow it for five minutes, bucky acts like he doesn't care but he's definitely stolen it more than once when no one's looking. john never actually brings up the situation... so, its become tradition at this point.

EXTRA:

— everytime one of the thunderbolts gets a new plushie, they always name it after someone on the team.

[deuxcherise]

When and How To Use Evols (All)

C/w: Unhealthy behavior, Love and Deepspace, probably OOC for all of them (especially Sylus), All x Reader, Reader can be MC or not, Reader had different personalities (?) with each LI, very suggestive (b-because Xavier... and others), implied yandere content (because Caleb... and maybe another) A/n: So… please y'all already know I- Look. They are very well-written 3D personality 2D men, okay? By the way, it’s my first Tumblr anniversary! Yay! Anyway, please enjoy this short “guide” on how to use their evols. Eheh~ :D — Just thoughts on the Love Interests’ evols. I could be wrong about their properties. Need more research. Read at your discretion. Masterlist

💫Xavier💫

One would think having an evol that just illuminates in the dark would be quite useless.

… Well…

If not for Resonance, its only use seems to be limited to only serving as a distraction, a flicker across a Wanderer’s eye as a materialized sword slices through its neck, or its ability to steal the light source away from one’s surroundings. Perhaps, one may argue it does lend to its known user, Xavier’s ability to be able to quickly teleport from point A to point B. The known uses past these details are currently unknown.

There is one unique thing that Xavier does choose to use it for, and it usually involves drawing adorable images with casted lines of light.

“Stay still.”

You bite your bottom lip as you watch him caress across your exposed thighs. Soft fingers trace from your knee to your lap, snaking left and right before dragging towards the inner parts of your thighs and then sliding downwards to start at your knees before repeating that motion. Lines of sparking platinum and gold are left behind in swirls and messy waves, like a very familiar mess after a heated session.

Honestly, if anyone asked what happened, Xavier would claim it was your fault how you got into this position. 

After watching him cast his light in the claw machine in the nearby arcade for the nth time, you might’ve… accidentally hurt his feelings when you decided you needed to speak up about how… unnecessary, for the lack of better word, his evol was when it came to this endeavor. In your defense, you figured it was to his benefit for him to save his energy to fight Wanderers instead of using it for a gacha system rigged to eat up your coins.

“Xaviierrr,” you whine.

You want nothing more than to grab his hand and put it to better use, but unfortunately, your wrists have been bound to the bed frame by none other than that very unnecessary evol of his. You hadn’t realized his light was tangible until now. To be fair, you’d only seen it in battle and during firework events. How would you know he could create things like this?

His blue eyes flicker towards you momentarily before refocusing on his “work”. A heavy pout still remains upon his lips. “Hmph.”

Was it already mentioned that while you were taking home an already pouty plushie-less Xavier, you had decided to drop by a bakery to buy some bread on your way home. And of course, there was that strangely confident guy Charlie who ended up being there. 

Of course, your pouty bunny didn’t like that. So he took you home. Right after. In record time, actually. Your freshly baked bread was now lying on the table, growing staler by the minute.

.

-🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌-

.

☃️Zayne☃️

Tiny snowmen. Tiny seals. Tiny cats.

Was there anything the genius surgeon couldn’t make, at your request?

Of course, to reach the level of detail he puts into every single one of his little creations requires a gentle touch and focused precision. For a man whose scarred hands can so skillfully cut and stitch up wounds for what is arguably the most vital organ in the body, one must be awed by how composed he is whenever these high tension operations end up in failure. Not only that, but consider how gracefully he reacts when yelled at by angry, grieving relatives. How does he do it? His restraint is admirable.

You beam up at him, tilting your chin up to showcase the delicate line of lace-like snow around your neck. “Wow! Since your snow never melts, this could totally be an heirloom, ya know?” you tease, tenderly caresses it. It had a slight chill, being made of ice and snow after all, but not enough to cause frostbite if you wore it for extended periods of time. As expected of your kind and considerate doctor.

He smiles that mysterious smile of his, one where his eyes are as warm as a small ray of light on a small patch of green grass in the middle of a snowy landscape. “Even if you pass it down, I hardly think anyone with good taste would want to wear it.”

You gasp before pouting and slapping him on the arm. “Zayne!”

He chuckles.

After giving it a moment, you grin sleazily. “On second thought, you’re right. This only looks good on me anyway. A necklace made just for me. Why thank you, Zayne~”

“You’re very welcome. Also, I constructed it so it won’t fall off so easily.”

“Is that so? As expected of the great genius surgeon of Akso Hospital.”

You both continue strolling about the park area in comfortable silence until it is time for him to return to work. Your eyes glance over to him as you think about your future. Despite your amicable relationship with the man, you’ve yet to actually confess your feelings. You wonder how he feels about you, given that he always meets your requests without a single complaint. Giving you such a pretty necklace like this… You didn’t want to ruin a relationship as good as this just because you wanted to hold his hand for once.

You sigh forlornly.

“Is there something wrong?”

Ah. There’s that loveable concern of his.

To keep yourself from accidentally confessing, you bring your hands up to the back of your necklace. “I can't help but think about when I’d ever wear such a pretty necklace like this again. I’m heading out on a mission tomorrow and I would hate to… to… Huh?”

You feel all around the necklace, trying to find that familiar sensation of a clasp or a fastener, only to find more snowflakes. You look towards Zayne. “Hey Zayne, how do you take this off?”

He smiles, though his yellow eyes are not as warm as earlier. “I thought you were worried about it falling off…”

Restraint, huh…

.

-🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌-

.

🐡Rafayel🐡

“Hey Rafayel!”

“Hm?”

“Why the heck do you have a fire evol when you come from the ocean?”

It boggles the mind really. Does it make any sense why a fish man should have the ability to manipulate flames? Flames? Fire? With water? That goes against anything logical in this world.

Time travel? Technological issue. Wanderers? Biological issue. A fish man wielding flames? Inconceivable.

And yet, this man exists. Sitting there on the ground, all bent over a canvas on his lap with splatters of paint around him like an altar.

Rayafel sends a glare towards you. “I’ll answer that question once you explain why you brought that thing in.”

The thing he is referring, currently purring in your arms, is none other than Mr. Scrumbles. He is a Devon Rex cat, and he is adorable.

“And why is it so… scrawny? And curly-haired?”

I could say the same about you, you think. “I promised a friend to watch over him today. I can’t exactly leave him at home by himself, can I?”

He gives you an incredulous look. “Why did you say yes? You’re supposed to be my bodyguard!”

“Well, I didn’t realize I’d be accompanying you today until you called me.”

He pouted and went back to sketching. “Shouldn’t you always be ready to guard me? Do you need a pay raise? You’re so greedy.”

You roll your eyes as you continue to poke at Mr. Scrumbles’ jelly beans. “Yes, yes…”

…..

…..

You look towards him. “So why do you have a fire evol?” you ask again.

“Why shouldn’t I have a fire evol?” he answers, without looking up from his canvas.

“Uh, because you come from the ocean?”

He holds a pencil up and closes an eye before marking some areas. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Really?” You shake your head. “Imagine trying to light up a fire underwater. It’ll be completely useless.”

He glances towards you as he sketches more lines. “A regular fire, sure. But mine? It burns brighter and hotter than any wave can bear. It will never go out, not as long as I will it.”

“Is that so? Huh.” You scoff, turning away from him as a sly thought crosses your mind. “The eternal flame, huh? Then the next time I take a vacation, I should just kidnap you and keep you as my fireplace keeper.”

“Icouldbeyourheaterinstead,” he mumbles.

“Huh?”

“Would you stop moving so much? And stop looking at me. It’s ruining my concentration.”

He throws a glare at you, making you huff in irritation as you look away. “Fine!”

“Meow!”

Unbeknownst to you, on his canvas was the faint sketch of a certain bodyguard and what could only be described as a body of a cat in their arms.

.

-🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌-

.

🐦‍⬛Sylus🐦‍⬛

Let’s be honest. What hasn’t Sylus used his very versatile evol for?

Binding people? Check. Ripping apart enemies? Check. Moving from point A to point B? Check. Keeping you stu- occupied? Check.

Actually… about that…

“Is it just me or do you want something, kitten?”

Sitting on one of his leather couches in his mansion, you and Sylus are yet again at opposite ends for some reason. Luke and Kieran have yet to figure out why the two of you are constantly like this.

You won’t admit it. You vehemently refuse to admit it. Admitting it would be letting go of your pride, and that is the one thing you refuse to give up. Especially to that damn tease of a man.

You turn your head away. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He hums, clearly amused as he checks his fingernails. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. You know that.”

“I know.”

You know it, gosh darn it! And that is why this man frustrates you beyond all reason. Not even losing a hundred dollars to that stupid claw machine without a single prize could amount to the hatred you have for playing into this man’s games.

“And I’d give you everything. Only need just a single word.”

“Hmph.”

You cross your legs, matching your crossed arms, as you ignore the heat that is currently brewing in your body. Not that you would admit it, but his deep voice was a ridiculously hot factor of his. Which he absolutely knows how to use.

“Why are you so stubborn?”

“Why are you so persistent?” you shoot back.

“If you don’t like it, just say so.”

“.....” You press your lips together.

Somehow, even without looking, you know he’s smirking. “I thought so.”

You shrug, showcasing your nonchalance. “Well, you seem to want something. Why don’t you tell me, huh?”

“And what fun would that be?”

You scoff. “Typical.”

“We could do this all day… or…” He moves from leaning back on the couch to laying his head down on your lap.

You glare down at him as he smirks back up to you.

He shifts his head. “Aren’t you going to tell me to get off?”

You turn your chin up. “Why should I?”

“Stubborn kitty.”

“Stupid dragon.”

“Hm.” He closes his eyes, a closed-lipped smile on his face.

“Hmph.”

“.....”

“.....”

You tilt your head down and pout. “I’m bored.”

He opens one eye. “And?”

“Entertain me.”

“Oh? How?”

You shift your legs slightly. Not enough to knock his head off, but enough to send a message. “Use your evol,” you command.

Sylus shifts his body so that he’s sitting up, so he can lean down and nuzzle his nose against yours. His eyes are soft, despite their vibrant redness. “As you wish, kitten.”

.

-🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌-

.

🍎Caleb🍎

Life always felt lighter when he was around…

“Caleb! Let me down!”

“Haha. Not until you admit that I won.”

“Never!”

“Alright~ Another five minutes in air jail~”

“Calebbb!”

Sometimes, when you close your eyes, you’d think back to those laughter-filled carefree days where all you had to worry about was making sure you did your homework and passed your exams. Having someone to spend those days with certainly helped slow down the impending doom of endless adulthood.

“You’re being quiet. Whatcha thinking about?”

Your eyes pop open, gasping as your whole body shifts backward suddenly. Gloved fingers grip onto the flesh of your hips. Your own fingers grip onto the sheets in front of you, your knuckles turning white with every forced movement.

He leans down, overlaying your upper half with his own. He nuzzles the back of your head before giving you tender kisses. As if that makes up for what he’s doing with your lower half. You squeezing around him from the tender gesture doesn’t help either.

“Mm…” Ceasing his movement, he kisses the back of your neck and between your shoulder blades. “Hey… Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

You only whine as you try to wiggle out of his grasp.

He sighs, as you feel a pressure weighing down your body. His evol. “Why do you keep trying to leave me? Why?” His voice is desperate and longing.

You wish you could scream out at him. Demand why he’s doing what he’s doing. Ask him why he kept the fact he was alive from you for so long. Maybe land a punch or two, like you used to. But with his liberal use of his gravity evol over you, you’ve grown used to this… helplessness. Only in instances like now do you still dare to try even the slightest movement, only to yet again be crushed under the weight of his gravity.

“On second thought, don’t answer that.” He begins moving again.

The law of gravity states that “what comes up, must come down.” In Caleb’s case, he soared so high in the sky to the point of nearly dying. Now, all he wants now is to make sure he doesn’t leave the ground anymore. Not when there’s you to protect.

Even if that means clipping your wings.

[ducksido]

how about irish yuu

(Righty-o)

General Reactions

Grim:

“Wait… you have your own weird little magic creatures?!”

“Leprechauns? Banshees? THE HELL IS A PUCA?!”

Refuses to go near Irish!Yuu’s stories after hearing about the Dullahan.

The NRC Student Body:

“Your country is mostly rain and grass? You and Silver must get along.”

Learns about Irish superstitions and immediately freaks out about everything.

“YOU GUYS PUNCHED ENGLISH KINGS?! THAT’S SO METAL.”

Crowley:

"Oh, Prefect, do tell me more about your charming homeland!"

Forgets Ireland exists as a separate country. "Ah yes, a lovely British—"

Yuu glares. "Finish that sentence and you’ll wake up cursed."

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

"So your people ignored British rule for centuries? Admirable."

Twitches at Yuu’s tea preferences. “NO, YOU CAN’T PUT WHISKEY IN TEA.”

Ace Trappola:

“So you guys just fight each other for fun?!”

“Wait, you tell people to ‘catch themselves on’ instead of apologizing? That’s amazing.”

Deuce Spade:

Loves hearing about Irish rebels and warriors. “YOU GUYS WERE SO COOL.”

Somehow starts saying ‘feck’ without realizing it.

Trey Clover:

Learns about Irish soda bread. Immediately starts baking.

“Colcannon? What’s that?” (Tries it and loves it.)

Cater Diamond:

Uses Irish slang incorrectly. "Aye lads, we’re having good craic, right?"

Spams Yuu with St. Patrick’s Day filters on Magicam.

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

“Hmph. Your people are stubborn, huh?”

Finds it amusing that Irish mythology is basically “gods fighting each other constantly.”

Ruggie Bucchi:

"Wait, wait—you put potatoes in EVERYTHING? You’re my kind of person."

Teaches Yuu NRC street tricks, but Yuu already knows a few.

Jack Howl:

Horrified by Irish fae stories. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY STEAL CHILDREN?!”

Secretly loves Irish folklore but won’t admit it.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

Impressed by Irish folktales about clever tricksters. “I see we’re kindred spirits.”

Cannot believe Yuu’s people had entire rebellions just because they were annoyed.

Jade Leech:

"Ah, your culture respects mushrooms. Fascinating."

Oddly excited about changelings. "Tell me, do you believe they are real?"

Floyd Leech:

“FAIRY RINGS?! Sounds like a fun place to fight!”

Has no fear of Irish fae. He absolutely should.

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim:

“So you guys just tell stories all the time? That’s so cool!”

Immediately asks Yuu to teach him Irish dancing.

Jamil Viper:

"You celebrate by just drinking and fighting? …Respect."

Interested in Irish myths about snakes, then finds out they’re mostly about St. Patrick.

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

Shook that Irish myths inspired so many fantasy games.

“Wait, wait, your ancestors believed in ghost horses?!” (Nods in approval.)

Ortho Shroud:

"Your people feared the color green?"

Confused but supportive.

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

"Your land respects the fae? And fears them? How wise."

Wants to visit Ireland just to see the castles.

Lilia Vanrouge:

Knows Irish history. “Ah, I fought a few of your warriors once. Good times.”

Thinks Yuu’s accent is ‘delightful’ but mimicking it horribly.

Silver:

“Your stories are… unnerving.”

Keeps mistaking banshee stories for bedtime tales. Bad idea.

Sebek Zigvolt:

"YOU RESPECT THE FAE?! EXCELLENT!"

Has an identity crisis when Yuu says Irish people don’t like loud talkers.

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

Raised eyebrow. “Your people use beer as a skincare ingredient?!”

“Your legends about beauty interest me.”

Epel Felmier:

"Your warriors fought shirtless? That’s hardcore."

Tries to use Irish slang.* It’s a disaster.

Rook Hunt:

“AH, THE IRISH! The poets and fighters! What a passionate people!”

RSA & Noble Bell

Neige:

“Your country looks so green and magical!”

Wants to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day with Yuu.

Chenya:

Steals Yuu’s lucky charms. Literally.

Rollo Flamme:

Disapproves of Irish drinking culture.

Horrified by Irish fire festivals. “You set WHEAT on FIRE?!”

Meleanor & Young Lilia:

Meleanor respects Irish battle queens.

Young Lilia wants to fight an Irish warrior.

More Irish!Yuu Chaos

Casually mentions cursed fairy forts like it’s normal. Has the thickest accent. No one understands them. Refuses to let Crowley call Ireland "British." Gives everyone random Irish nicknames. Says "feck" instead of swearing.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Flour Power - 1

Character: Amnesia!Bucky x Baker!Female Character

Summary: A baker helps a stranger, only to discover that this individual not only aids the bakery but also brings trouble along with him

A/N: Because Bucky got amnesia, his name was temporarily changed to Bob.

Chap 1, Chap 2 , End

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The rain poured down in sheets, thunder echoed through the desolate alleyway, casting shadows that danced around the battered figure of the male agent.

"Urghh."

With each labored breath, he clutched his injured left shoulder, the searing pain shooting through him a constant reminder of the peril he faced.

His once crisp suit was now torn and bloodstained, a testament to the fierce struggle he had endured against his enemies.

But despite the physical toll, his determination burned brightly within him, driving him to press on, to fight against the encroaching darkness that threatened to consume him.

With a grimace, he staggered forward, his vision swimming as he fought to stay conscious. Every step felt like an eternity, his senses dulled by the pain and exhaustion that gripped him. Yet, he refused to yield, his willpower serving as his guiding light in the midst of chaos.

Finally, his strength failed him, and he collapsed to his knees in the murky alley. The world around him spun wildly as darkness crept into the edges of his vision, threatening to swallow him whole.

But even in his moment of weakness, he refused to surrender, clinging to the flickering hope that burned within him.

With a final gasp, he succumbed to the enveloping darkness, his body slumping against the cold pavement.

🍞🥖

The first rays of dawn broke through the clouds, casting a golden hue over the city streets, the bustling sounds of morning began to fill the air.

Shop owners unlocked their doors, flipping signs from closed to open, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods wafted through the crisp morning air.

On this particular street, every storefront seemed to come alive with activity. The aroma of sizzling bacon and brewing coffee drew crowds to the bustling cafes and diners, where people eagerly lined up for their morning fuel.

But amidst the hustle and bustle, there was one establishment that stood out, a quaint bakery with a faded sign that simply read "Sunrise Bakery."

Unlike its neighboring eateries, the bakery remained eerily quiet. There were no eager customers waiting outside, no enticing smells drifting onto the sidewalk. Instead, the shop sat in silence, its windows fogged up from the warmth within.

As the morning progressed, a few curious passersby ventured inside the bakery, their footsteps echoing softly against the tiled floor.

But rather than browsing the display cases filled with pastries and bread, they simply approached the counter and asked for a tissue.

Tammy's frustration was palpable as she glanced across the street at the bustling bakery, her lips pursed in a tight frown. With a sigh, she muttered under her breath, "Haah... we're hopeless. You should've sued him for stealing the recipe."

Your hands worked deftly, kneading the dough with practiced precision as you listened to Tammy's grumbles.

You are the fifth generation who inherited this bakery. The business was great until one of the employees stole your family recipe.

Despite the lack of customers lining up at your bakery, your focus remained unwavering on the task at hand – making the best bread for hamburgers in town.

"At least we have loyal customers," you replied, your tone laced with a hint of optimism.

Tammy rolled her eyes, a gesture of exasperation that spoke volumes. "But our bread is more delicious. I want people standing in line to buy our bread and going viral."

You chuckled softly, shaking your head at her idealistic dreams. "That viral thing only lasts for a while. Besides, we don't have the money to pay influencers."

Tammy crossed her arms over her chest, a defiant stance that betrayed her determination. "I have followers too."

Your eyebrows raised in mock surprise, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "I think I'd prefer to pay influencers than you," you teased.

Tammy gasped in mock offense, her hand flying to her chest in a dramatic gesture. "Heyyy..."

Despite the banter, there was an underlying camaraderie between you and Tammy, a shared determination to make the bakery succeed against the odds.

You washed your hands, the simmering hurt evident in your furrowed brow as you glanced at the bustling bakery across the street. The betrayal of seeing your family's recipe stolen gnawed at your insides, a bitter taste that refused to fade.

Placing the dough on a tray for its required rest, you instructed Tammy, "I'm going to take out the trash."

The mundane task provided a momentary escape from the weight of your thoughts as you stepped outside into the crisp morning air.

You made your way to the back door of the bakery, the morning sunlight cast a soft glow over the alleyway, illuminating the damp pavement beneath your feet.

But as you approached the trash bin, something caught your eye – a strange object lying in a puddle nearby. It seemed out of place amidst the mundane surroundings, its presence drawing your attention with an air of mystery.

With cautious curiosity, you stepped closer, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the dampness of the alley. The object lay partially submerged in the murky water, its contours distorted by the rippling surface.

As you bent down to get a closer look, a sense of unease washed over you.

With a furrowed brow, you reached out to retrieve the object, your fingers brushing against its cold surface. And as you lifted it from the puddle, the mystery deepened, leaving you with more questions than answers in the stillness of the morning air.

You screamed in horror, your heart pounding in your chest, your eyes widened in shock at the sight of the motionless figure lying in the puddle. "Argh," you cried out, the fear gripping you tightly.

"Tammy!" Your voice rang out, desperate for assistance, as you rushed towards the fallen person.

Your hands trembled slightly as you knelt beside the body, a mixture of dread and concern etched on your face. "Is this person alive?" you called out, your voice quivering with uncertainty.

Suddenly, a jolt of fear shot through you as the person's hand shot out and grabbed onto your arm with surprising strength. "Urgh. Let go!" you exclaimed, trying to pry their fingers off of you.

In a flash, Tammy appeared beside you, her presence a welcome relief in the midst of chaos. With a swift and decisive motion, she swung the rolling pin at the stranger, striking them with a forceful blow.

The person released their grip, their head dropping limply as they crumpled to the ground. You and Tammy exchanged a wary glance, a silent question hanging in the air.

"Did we... kill him?" you murmured, the weight of the situation sinking in as you both stared at the unconscious figure before you, the scene bathed in an eerie silence broken only by the sound of your racing heartbeats.

🏥

"He's lucky to be alive." Relief washed over you as the doctor reassured you that the stranger was fortunate to have survived. However, the fear that had gripped you and Tammy moments ago still lingered, clouding your thoughts with worry.

Your eyes darted nervously between the doctor and Tammy, uncertainty etched in your expressions. Was the stranger's condition solely due to the blow from the rolling pin, or were there other factors at play? Would your actions result in legal consequences, perhaps even imprisonment?

The doctor's words only heightened your apprehension as they continued to explain the severity of the stranger's injuries. "Bullets, knives, poison...". The list seemed endless, each revelation sending a shiver down your spine.

Your gaze lingered on the unconscious stranger, a myriad of questions swirling in your mind. What had led him to this state of peril? Was he a victim of kidnapping, fleeing from unseen dangers?

Suddenly, the patient stirred, his eyes fluttering open, and a collective gasp escaped from you, Tammy, and the doctor.

"Woah."

The sudden movement jolted you all, catching you off guard and sending a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"This dude keeps giving me a heart attack," Tammy exclaimed, her voice a mixture of relief and frustration, her hand pressed against her chest as if to calm her racing heart.

The doctor's inquiries were met with a shake of the stranger's head, a gesture that spoke volumes without uttering a word. "Amnesia," the doctor concluded, a somber note in their voice as they delivered the diagnosis.

You and Tammy exchanged a worried glance, the weight of guilt settling heavily upon your shoulders. Could it be that the events of this morning had somehow contributed to the stranger's memory loss?

"Oh no," you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur, the remorse evident in your tone as you grappled with the consequences of your actions.

Tammy, ever the optimist, interjected with a suggestion. "Bob suited him," she offered, her voice laced with a hint of mischief as she attempted to lighten the mood.

You shot her a reproachful look, silently pleading for her to refrain from further complicating the situation. "Tammy... stop," you murmured, your tone tinged with exasperation.

But to your surprise, the stranger echoed Tammy's suggestion, his voice soft yet resolute as he repeated the name, "Bob."

Tammy beamed triumphantly, her eyes sparkling with delight. "See, he likes it," she exclaimed, a hint of satisfaction in her voice as she reveled in her impromptu success.

Your brows furrowed in concern as you sought confirmation from the doctor, hoping against hope that the diagnosis of amnesia was somehow mistaken. "Is it really amnesia?" you inquired, your voice tinged with a mix of apprehension and sympathy.

The doctor's response was measured yet decisive. "We will check it thoroughly," they assured, their tone imbued with a sense of professional responsibility.

Hours passed, filled with tense anticipation, until finally, the results of the examinations were revealed. Another inspection and MRI confirmed the doctor's initial assessment – this stranger, now known as Bob, indeed suffered from amnesia.

A pang of empathy tugged at your heartstrings as you gazed upon Bob, a lost soul adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Where would he go from here? What future awaited him in a world where memories held the key to identity and belonging?

"Probably he will end up in a shelter," the doctor remarked matter-of-factly, their words casting a shadow over the room as the gravity of Bob's situation sank in.

You couldn't help but feel a surge of sympathy for Bob, a man without a past, facing an uncertain future. As you watched him, lost in thought, you couldn't shake the feeling of responsibility that weighed heavily upon you.

🍞🥖

As Tammy helped Bob into the apartment, her frustration was evident in her voice. "We're already in debt, and you've decided to take care of another person?" she remarked, her tone tinged with exasperation.

You stood your ground, unable to turn your back on someone in need. "I can't just leave him like that. He fainted behind our store, and now he has no memories," you explained, your voice filled with empathy.

Tammy sighed, resigned to the situation. "Suit yourself. At least we have another employee, and he doesn't need to get paid," she conceded, her practical nature shining through despite her reluctance.

Bob glanced at Tammy, his expression unreadable as he took in her words.

Tammy crossed her arms, laying down the terms of their arrangement. "That's right. You can sleep, eat, and live here. In return, you have to help at the bakery. You have to work."

"Work," Bob echoed, his voice soft yet determined.

"Good," Tammy declared, a hint of satisfaction in her tone as she finalized the agreement. Then, she leaned in to whisper to you, "I felt like I was talking to a kid."

You stifled a laugh, nodding in agreement as you exchanged a knowing glance with Tammy.

You approached Bob with a gentle smile, reassurance radiating from your eyes. "You just need to rest for now. When you're ready, you can join me at the bakery. I won't force you to work if you're still hurting," you assured him, your voice laced with empathy.

"Work," Bob repeated, his voice a quiet affirmation of his willingness to contribute despite the challenges he faced.

With a nod of understanding, you gave Bob a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stepping back, allowing him the space he needed to recuperate.

As you descended the stairs into the bakery, the familiar scent of freshly baked bread greeted you. Tammy, already bustling about behind the counter, looked up with a mischievous twinkle in her eye as you approached.

"You know what," she began, her voice carrying a note of excitement, "if Bob got a haircut, shave his beard a bit, he will be handsome. I notice that he has a perfect asymmetrical face."

You couldn't help but chuckle at Tammy's candid observation, her knack for noticing details never ceasing to amaze you. "You think so?" you replied with a grin, intrigued by the idea.

Tammy nodded eagerly, her enthusiasm contagious. "Definitely! It could boost his confidence, and who knows, maybe it'll attract more customers too."

Little did you know that Tammy's crazy idea would help the bakery.

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[nervousdiythesimspsychic]

The fox and the treasure hunters

part 8: building trust

pairing: ateez x fox fm reader

genre: mystery, thriller, adventure

warnings: violence, dark themes, Psychological Trauma, Psychological Stress, blood and gore, Physical Danger, Suffering, Emotional Growth, Trauma,

summary: (y/n) has been on the run her whole life. She is accompanied by the spirit of a fox, which was placed in her mind by a witch. Over the years, she has learned to work alongside the fox, but the trauma of her youth runs deep. Because of this, she is wary and trusts no one. One day, eight men walk toward the village; her instincts tell her that they are here for her. Can these men earn (y/n)'s trust and pull her out of the darkness while they search for the treasure, where (y/n) turns out to be a key player in ways they never expected?

xxx Ziezo

previous - masterlist - next

chapter 8: building trust

The stew was finally ready. The scent of spices, braised meat, and freshly baked bread filled the hut, creating a homely feeling—something they all hadn’t felt in a long time.

"Alright, everyone, dig in before Seonghwa eats everything," Yunho joked as he scooped himself a bowl.

"Hey!" Seonghwa protested indignantly. "Why am I always the one being accused?"

San, who was dipping a piece of bread into his stew, shook his head. "Maybe because you literally eat everything that’s put in front of you."

Jongho, taking a hearty bite of his bread, spoke with his mouth full. "If you guys don’t hurry up, I’ll eat everything myself."

Yeosang grinned and shrugged. "Well, we definitely can’t compete with that. Enjoy your meal, Jongho."

Laughter filled the hut as the men filled their bowls and enjoyed the warm meal. It had been a long time since they had eaten so peacefully. The cold outside was forgotten, the threat of hunters and their mission pushed to the back of their minds. For now, they were just a group of men sharing a meal.

Wooyoung stirred his spoon in the stew, stealing a quick glance at San, who ate slowly, his exhaustion still visible in his eyes. A playful smirk tugged at Wooyoung’s lips as he scooped up a piece of tender meat with his spoon.

"Hey, San," he said casually, holding up the spoon. "You better eat faster, or there’ll be nothing left."

San glanced at him from the corner of his eye and sighed. "Wooyoung, I’m not a child. I can feed myself."

"You say that," Wooyoung grinned, "but you’re looking at that food like it’s your last hope in life. Come on, here—" He slowly moved the spoon toward San as if feeding a child. "Open up. It’s good stuff, personally selected and served by yours truly."

San rolled his eyes, but instead of swatting the spoon away, he let out a deep sigh and leaned in slightly. His lips briefly brushed against the wooden spoon as he took the piece of meat and began chewing.

Wooyoung’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, not expecting San to actually go along with it, but soon a triumphant grin spread across his face. "See? That wasn’t so bad."

San gave him a sleepy look and swallowed his bite slowly. "Shut up, Wooyoung."

The others burst into laughter, filling the hut with warmth. Yeosang shook his head. "Well, if that’s not love, I don’t know what is."

Mingi grinned widely. "Woo, do you want to feed me too? Or is San the only one getting special treatment?"

Wooyoung scrunched up his nose dramatically and waved a hand. "You don’t have the charm, Mingi. At least San is cute when he’s stubborn."

San muttered something unintelligible as he focused on his food again, but the warmth on his cheeks gave him away.

Every now and then, one of them would glance at (y/n), who was still lying motionless. Her breathing was steady, her face relaxed as if she were deep in sleep.

"Shouldn’t we wake her up?" Yeosang asked, looking up from his meal.

Hongjoong shook his head. "Let her sleep. Maybe she’ll wake up on her own from the smell or from our chatter."

Mingi sniffed the air. "If she has a nose as sharp as a fox, she should have been awake by now."

Wooyoung glanced at (y/n) and smirked. "Maybe she’s just stubborn and refusing to wake up because we’re having fun without her."

San chuckled. "Wouldn’t surprise me. She seems like the type to make a dramatic entrance."

The conversation drifted to all sorts of topics—memories from past missions, jokes about each other’s bad habits, and even a short discussion on who had the most annoying sleeping habits.

"Hongjoong snores like an old man," Mingi stated seriously.

"I do not snore!" Hongjoong protested.

Yunho took a sip of his drink and looked at him dryly. "Bro… you snore so loud, I thought there was a bear in our tent."

Hongjoong looked offended as the rest of them laughed.

Meanwhile, Jongho continued eating silently until he casually reached out and, almost unnoticed, snatched a piece of bread from Yunho’s plate.

"Hey!" Yunho cried out indignantly, his fork frozen halfway to his mouth.

Jongho looked at him with an innocent expression and slowly chewed on the stolen bread. "What?"

Yunho stared at his plate in frustration, then back at Jongho, who simply shrugged and took another bite. "You… You already have a whole bowl of food!"

Seonghwa shook his head with a laugh and patted Yunho’s shoulder. "You need to keep a better eye on your food, Yunho. Apparently, you’re not sharp enough."

"I thought you were the responsible one, Seonghwa. Why are you letting this happen?" Yunho grumbled, pointing accusingly at Jongho.

Hongjoong took a sip of water, watching the scene unfold with amusement. "It’s a jungle out here, Yunho. Food stealing is just part of survival."

Laughter filled the hut again as they continued their meal. The relaxed atmosphere felt almost surreal.

=====

The remnants of their meal still lay on the wooden table. Despite the warmth of their gathering, they all knew they couldn’t stay idle for too long.

"We can’t stay here for too long," Hongjoong began, running his fingers over his chin. "(y/n) needs to rest, but we also need to figure out our next steps."

"The hunters know she’s alive," Seonghwa added. "And if they really suspect what she is… there’s a good chance they’ll come back."

A tense silence lingered in the air. They all knew they were in a difficult situation.

Yunho leaned against the wall and looked at Hongjoong. "We need to map out our route. We can’t just leave without a plan once (y/n) is able to walk."

"Alright," Hongjoong nodded. "Here’s what we’ll do: San, Mingi, and I will scout the possible routes. We need to find the fastest but also the safest one."

Mingi nodded and stood up, already calculating in his head how long it would take before they could move again.

"What about us?" Wooyoung asked, tapping his spoon against the edge of his bowl.

Yeosang stretched briefly and glanced at Wooyoung. "I made an herbal salve last night for (y/n’s) wounds. She needs to be rebandaged. Luckily, her fever hasn’t gotten worse, but she still needs care."

Seonghwa nodded. "Alright. Wooyoung, Yeosang, and I will stay here. Jongho and Yunho, maybe you two can do something useful, like gathering more firewood or keeping watch outside?"

Jongho rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. We get the boring tasks."

Yunho grinned and playfully nudged his shoulder. "Who knows? Maybe we’ll find something interesting."

As part of the group left the hut, Yeosang, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung remained behind. The air inside was warm but not stifling. The fire crackled softly in the background. (y/n) still lay motionless in her spot, her breathing steady but her face exhausted. Her skin was still a bit pale, and her hair clung to her forehead.

Seonghwa knelt beside her and sighed. "We need to wake her up. It’s time for her to eat."

Yeosang nodded and pulled out the herbal salve he had prepared earlier. "I’ll clean her wounds first."

Wooyoung crouched on the other side and gently tapped (y/n)’s cheek with his fingers. "Hey, sleepyhead, time to wake up."

No response.

He raised an eyebrow and tapped a little harder. "(y/n), wake up. We have food."

She stirred slightly, a faint frown appearing on her face. Her breathing shifted, and her eyebrows drew together. A soft mumble escaped her lips, but her eyes remained closed.

Seonghwa looked up. "Try harder?"

Wooyoung smirked. "I have another tactic."

He leaned in a little closer and whispered in a playful tone, "If you don’t wake up now, I’m eating everything. And trust me, I won’t leave a single crumb."

Slowly, (y/n)’s eyes fluttered open. At first, they were unfocused, still clouded by sleep, but when her gaze landed on Wooyoung, she suddenly seemed to realize where she was.

She blinked a few times and let out a soft groan. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke. "Do you even know how annoying you are?"

Wooyoung laughed. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

Seonghwa held out a bowl of water for her. "Drink this first."

(y/n) turned her head away. "Not thirsty."

She wasn’t used to this—this feeling of helplessness. Normally, she was the one in control of her own situation, the one who could deceive or keep others at a distance. But now? Now she was lying here, completely at the mercy of these men who both irritated and intrigued her.

And the worst part was that she had no way out.

"Alright," Yeosang said calmly, rolling up his sleeves and loosening the bandages around her leg. "I’m going to treat your wounds again. It might sting, but it has to be done."

(y/n) bit down on her lip as the rough fabric came away, her skin pulling painfully with the movement. Her breathing quickened slightly, and she had to force herself not to flinch away from him.

"Stay still," Yeosang muttered without looking at her. His tone was professional, almost distant, as if he were working on an injured bird rather than her.

"Easy for you to say," she bit out, her voice tense.

Before Yeosang could respond, Wooyoung let out a low whistle and rested his elbow on his knee. "What’s this? The great, fearless (y/n) scared of a little medicine?"

(y/n) shot him a deadly glare. "I’m not scared."

"No?" Wooyoung’s grin widened. "You’re practically shaking."

She hated that he had noticed. Wooyoung had a sharp eye for weaknesses, and now that he was back to his usual self after his earlier anger, he was clearly enjoying the chance to tease her.

Seonghwa, who was casually leaning against one of the wooden beams, observed her closely. His keen gaze moved over her face, down to her tense posture, and finally to her fingers, which were gripping the thin blanket beneath her.

She was nervous.

Seonghwa glanced at Wooyoung sideways and sighed. "Enough. You’re not helping."

Wooyoung shrugged indifferently. "I’m just saying what I see."

(y/n) scoffed and looked away, her jaw tight with restrained frustration. Wooyoung was just as irritating as ever, despite being less hostile than before.

When Yeosang finally removed the old bandage completely, she could no longer control her breathing. Her stomach twisted at the sight of the wound. The dark scar, still red and raw from the burn, was a painful reminder of how close she had been to death.

And of how these men had made the decision for her.

She felt her throat go dry, her fingers clenching the sheets again.

Yeosang dipped a cloth in water and carefully wiped around the wound to clean it. The cool touch made her shiver, but she tried to keep her face neutral.

"It’ll take a while before it really starts healing," Yeosang said, more to himself than to her. "But the herbs should help against infection and aid recovery."

(y/n) gave a short nod, but the fear kept gnawing at her.

What if they were deliberately keeping her weak? What if this was a way to make her dependent on them?

Her gaze slid to Seonghwa, who was still watching her. She knew he was analyzing her. He saw it. He saw how weak she was now.

"Do you really think we want to hurt you?"

His voice cut straight through her thoughts.

She looked up and saw Wooyoung gazing at her with a questioning yet playful look.

"Because that’s exactly how you’re acting," he continued, tilting his head. "Like we could betray you at any moment."

(y/n) opened her mouth to snap back, but for the first time… she had no words.

Wooyoung grinned. "Ah. So you don’t even know yourself?"

Seonghwa rolled his eyes again. "Enough, Wooyoung."

(y/n) shut her mouth and looked away. She hated even more that he saw it.

Yeosang applied the ointment, his movements still methodical and patient. When he was done, he began wrapping the wound again.

"Almost finished," he said calmly.

(y/n) nodded slowly and tried to steady her breathing.

"See?" Wooyoung said lightly. "That wasn’t so bad, right?"

(y/n) shot him a deadly glare. "If you don’t shut up, you’ll be the one sitting here next time."

Wooyoung laughed loudly. "I’d like to see that."

Seonghwa let out a deep sigh, shaking his head. "I swear, you two are more exhausting than fighting those hunters."

Yeosang tied the bandage securely and checked his work one last time. His fingers rested on the knot for a moment, as if debating whether to say something, but in the end, he just sighed softly and stood up.

"That should do for now," he said, tidying up the leftover bandages. "I’m going to help Yunho and Jongho outside."

Yeosang cast one last glance at her. His expression was hard to read, as cool as always, but there was a hint of hesitation in his eyes. As if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her.

"Get some rest," was all he said before gathering his things and leaving the cabin.

The moment the door shut behind him, a tense silence lingered.

(y/n) held her breath. Now, she was alone with Seonghwa and Wooyoung.

"Alright," Seonghwa finally said, his tone lighter than his expression. "Now that that’s done, it’s time for the next thing."

(y/n) raised an eyebrow. "Next?"

Wooyoung leaned casually against one of the wooden beams, holding a small bowl of food in his hand. "Eating and drinking."

She tensed.

Seonghwa noticed her reaction immediately. She clenched her jaw, her fingers instinctively gripping the sheets like she was bracing herself for something.

"You need to eat something," he said patiently, but with an undertone that made it clear this wasn’t a debate. "You lost blood, and your body needs energy."

She looked at the bowl in Wooyoung’s hand, already feeling her stomach twist at the thought. Her mouth was dry—she knew that—but something in her refused to simply accept what they were giving her.

"I’m not hungry," she muttered.

Wooyoung scoffed and sat on the bed, a little too close for her liking. "Yeah, that’s cute, but no one asked if you were hungry."

The girl shot him a deadly glare. "If I say I don’t want—"

Wooyoung suddenly shoved the bowl into her hands. "Eat."

(y/n) looked at the liquid as if it were poison. Her muscles were tight with tension, her gaze flickering briefly to Seonghwa, who was watching her calmly.

Wooyoung tilted his head slightly. "You don’t seriously think we’re trying to poison you, do you?"

She didn’t answer.

Wooyoung smirked mockingly. "Oh my god, you actually do, don’t you?"

He had leaned closer to her now, resting his elbow on his knee, watching her with an amused smirk. "Listen, princess, if we wanted you dead, we would’ve done it already." Wooyoung shook his head briefly, letting out a dramatic sigh.

(y/n) remained silent, her lips pressed tightly together. She didn’t look up, her fingers still rigidly gripping the bowl.

Seonghwa noticed the tension in her jaw, the subtle way her breathing had become just a fraction faster.

She doesn’t trust us, he realized. Not even a little.

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes. "You know what?" he said finally, and before anyone could react, he snatched the bowl from her hands and took a big bite.

(y/n) froze.

Seonghwa watched as Wooyoung chewed obnoxiously slowly, his gaze locked on her. "Mmm, delicious," he said mockingly. "Unbelievable how we survive our own poison."

(y/n) stared at him, waiting for any sign that he was feeling unwell.

Wooyoung, enjoying the dramatic effect, turned to Seonghwa and held out a spoonful of food. "Here, you have some poison too."

Seonghwa sighed but opened his mouth and ate without hesitation. He knew this was their only chance to reassure her.

A few seconds passed.

Nothing happened.

They weren’t poisoned.

Wooyoung swallowed dramatically and patted his chest. "Wow, still alive. Incredible."

(y/n) frowned at them, and while she didn’t immediately give in, the panic in her eyes seemed to lessen slightly.

Wooyoung held the bowl out to her again. "You’re smart, we all know that. So let’s look at this rationally: If you want to escape, if you really think you and your fox don’t belong here, then you need to be strong enough to do that. And for that, you need food."

Seonghwa nodded slowly. “Wooyoung is right. No one is forcing you to trust us, but you have two options. Either you eat, or you stay weak and vulnerable.”

(y/n) looked between them.

A long silence followed.

Her fingers gradually relaxed, her breathing steadied.

Reluctantly, she took the bowl back.

And took a small bite.

Wooyoung grinned in satisfaction. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Seonghwa noticed the tension in her shoulders easing just slightly. She was still wary, but this was a step in the right direction.

Maybe they hadn’t broken down her walls.

But they had won something.

A tiny bit of trust.

(y/n) ate in silence, her movements small and cautious. Every bite was taken with care, as if she still wasn’t entirely convinced the food was safe. The stew was warm and hearty, and the taste surprised her.

This was… good.

Too good.

She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter, that she was only eating because she needed to get stronger, but something about it felt strange.

Seonghwa and Wooyoung didn’t even seem to be paying much attention to her as she ate. She could feel their watchful eyes on her, but they weren’t treating her like a prisoner.

“You think Yunho and Jongho caught anything decent?” Wooyoung asked Seonghwa with a playful grin. “If it’s anything like a few weeks ago, we’ll be stuck with just some tiny fish again.”

Seonghwa chuckled softly. “Well, Yeosang knows his way around herbs. He can make anything taste good.”

Wooyoung pulled a dramatic face. “Yeah, but I want meat.”

“You always want meat.” Seonghwa rolled his eyes. “Maybe you should learn to appreciate what you get.”

“Oh, I do.” Wooyoung smirked. “More than some people here.” His gaze flickered briefly to the girl, but his tone wasn’t sharp.

(y/n) frowned.

Why were they suddenly not treating her like an enemy?

Was it because she was weak now? Because the fox was nowhere to be seen? Or… were they trying to confuse her on purpose?

She had cursed them, insulted them, made it clear she hated them—and yet, they were here.

As if none of that had happened.

She didn’t understand.

Lost in thought, she barely noticed Wooyoung reaching for her bowl and scooping another large spoonful of stew into it.

She stared at him, surprised.

“You eat slow, but at least you’re eating,” Wooyoung said casually. “So here, have some more.”

Seonghwa and Wooyoung didn’t give her time to feel uncomfortable in the silence. They simply continued their conversation while gathering the dishes and utensils, their tone light, their posture relaxed.

(y/n) observed them for a moment—how they cleaned up together without tension, as if this was just part of their daily routine. As if she wasn’t a prisoner they needed to guard.

Wooyoung placed a bowl of water in front of her and took a large sip himself before sliding it toward her. “Drink,” he said simply. “You look like you need it.”

She hesitated.

He had just shown it was safe. Still, something in the back of her mind whispered that she should stay alert.

Seonghwa noticed her hesitation but didn’t comment on it. Instead, he turned slightly toward Wooyoung, a playful glint in his eyes. In a low voice, just soft enough that (y/n) wouldn’t hear, he murmured, “Where is this gentle approach coming from? Wooyoung, are you getting motherly instincts?”

Wooyoung made a face and lightly punched his arm. “Piss off.”

Seonghwa smirked. “Well, I’ve seen you be meaner.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes and leaned against the counter. “Mingi said something…”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“He said I let my pride get wounded.” Wooyoung shrugged. “And you know what? Maybe he was right.”

Seonghwa regarded him in silence, as if letting the words sink in.

Wooyoung sighed. “I’ve decided to befriend her.”

Seonghwa paused, frowning. “You?”

“Yes, me.” Wooyoung grinned. “The (y/n) without the fox needs friends.”

Seonghwa glanced briefly at the young woman, who was still sipping her water slowly. Her eyes were distant, lost in thought, but he could see the way her shoulders were just slightly less tense than before.

“And the (y/n) with the fox?” he asked finally.

Wooyoung’s grin faded slightly. “That… I’m not so sure about.”

Seonghwa nodded in understanding, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Well, good luck with that.”

Wooyoung laughed. “I know, I’m amazing.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes and went back to cleaning up.

As they finished washing the dishes, their earlier conversation lingered in the air, like smoke that slowly faded but left a faint scent behind.

Seonghwa rinsed the last bowl and let the water run over it in silence. His gaze was fixed on the wood, but his thoughts drifted back to the young woman sitting behind them. He knew she was watching them, even if she tried not to show it.

“You might be right,” he said eventually, without looking up. “About the (y/n) without the fox.”

Wooyoung glanced at him, one eyebrow raised.

Seonghwa set the clean bowl aside and dried his hands with a cloth. “That girl needs friends.” His voice was thoughtful, as if he wasn’t just speaking to Wooyoung, but to himself. “And I’d really like to know why someone is so afraid to accept food and water.”

Wooyoung frowned, turning fully toward him. “Now that you mention it…” He cast a glance over his shoulder at (y/n), who was holding her empty bowl quietly, her fingers lightly gripping the rim.

His gaze swept over her. She still looked wary, even after eating. Even after he and Seonghwa had made it clear there was no danger.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “That is worrying.”

He leaned against the table and crossed his arms. “But you know what might be even more concerning?” His tone shifted, becoming more serious. Seonghwa looked at him questioningly.

Wooyoung tilted his head, speaking in a hushed voice, as if he didn’t want to say it too loudly. “There’s no sign of the fox in her.”

Seonghwa’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Nothing,” Wooyoung continued. “No light in her eyes, no posture that suggests the beast is lurking in the background… It’s like it’s gone.”

Seonghwa was silent for a moment before turning back to the bowls. He picked one up and slowly began to dry it, but his mind remained on Wooyoung’s words.

If the fox was truly gone… what did that mean?

Was it temporary? A result of her injuries?

Or was something else going on?

He cast a brief glance at (y/n). Her head rested against the wall, her eyes half-closed, her breathing still a little too heavy.

(y/n)’s breathing slowly evened out, her body relaxing bit by bit. With her stomach full and her thirst quenched, she slipped into the darkness of sleep, as if her exhausted body had finally decided it was safe enough to let go.

But the way she fell asleep… was anything but comfortable.

Seonghwa and Wooyoung observed her for a moment, both wearing the same mix of mild annoyance and amusement. Her head hung forward slightly, her arms loosely folded over her stomach, and her legs were positioned at an awkward angle.

“Seriously?” Wooyoung sighed dramatically, placing his hands on his hips. “Why are you sleeping like this?”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow and smirked slightly. “Are you seriously asking that to someone who’s unconscious?”

“Maybe she’ll answer,” Wooyoung muttered before kneeling beside her. He slowly shook his head. “She’s going to wake up with a stiff neck, and then we’ll get blamed for it.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes. “As if we don’t already get blamed for enough.”

Still, he knelt down as well, and together they carefully repositioned her. Seonghwa placed a hand on her shoulder while Wooyoung adjusted her legs so they weren’t bent at such an odd angle.

(y/n) stirred slightly in her sleep, mumbling something incomprehensible. Wooyoung held his breath and glanced at her face.

Nothing.

She remained asleep.

Seonghwa watched as Wooyoung carefully brushed a strand of hair from her face and adjusted the thin blanket over her. A small grin appeared on Seonghwa’s lips.

“I think this is supposed to be my job, Wooyoung.” He shook his head and slid a pillow closer to (y/n)’s head so she would lean against it if she moved.

Wooyoung frowned. “Huh?”

Seonghwa gestured briefly toward the girl. “I’m the one who’s usually the caring one. You…” He raised an eyebrow meaningfully. “Not so much.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “I don’t have motherly instincts, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Seonghwa chuckled. “No? Then what is this?”

“I’m making friends.” Wooyoung sat up straight and flashed a triumphant grin. “I’m good at that. Look at how I charmed all of you.”

Seonghwa gave him a dry look. “You didn’t charm us. You were just a persistent nuisance we eventually couldn’t ignore.”

Wooyoung scoffed. “That sounds like love to me.”

Seonghwa sighed, laughing, and patted him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s get some rest before the others come back.”

Wooyoung cast one last glance at (y/n), who was now sleeping deeply and peacefully, then nodded.

Making friends, he reminded himself.

That was all.

For now.

=================

The door of the hut swung open, and a fresh gust of cold air filled the room as Yeosang, Yunho, and Jongho stepped inside, their arms full of the day's hunt and a stack of firewood.

“We’re back,” Yunho announced as he carefully set his catch aside.

Yeosang scanned the hut, his gaze briefly settling on (y/n)’s sleeping figure before shifting to Seonghwa. “How did things go here after I left?”

Seonghwa leaned against the table, looking at the three men who regarded him with curiosity. He glanced at (y/n) before exhaling a weary sigh. “Well, it wasn’t exactly easy.”

Yunho raised an eyebrow and settled in more comfortably. “What do you mean?”

Seonghwa crossed his arms and shook his head. “I’ve seen people be stubborn about food before, but this was different. She didn’t refuse because she didn’t want it. She refused because she was terrified.”

Yeosang, Yunho, and Jongho stared at him in surprise.

“Terrified?” Jongho repeated in disbelief.

Wooyoung nodded, immediately jumping in. “She thought we were trying to poison her.” He threw his hands up and turned to Seonghwa with an exaggerated expression. “And you thought I was difficult about food.”

Seonghwa ignored his comment and continued, “She barely moved, kept her body tense, and held the bowl like it was a trap. Every time we urged her to eat, she had that same look… like she expected it to be her last meal.”

Yunho frowned, slowly shaking his head. “That’s… really concerning.”

Yeosang remained silent, deep in thought. Jongho scratched the back of his head. “But in the end, she ate, right?”

Wooyoung immediately beamed and puffed out his chest. “Of course! Thanks to me, obviously.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes and shot him a brief, amused glance. “The best news of the day is that Wooyoung has found a new passion.”

“Oh no.” Yunho instantly looked wary. “What is it this time? Acrobatics? Poetry? Or are you planning to open a restaurant in the middle of the forest?”

“Very funny.” Wooyoung crossed his arms, pretending to be offended. “Listen,” he began enthusiastically, “I saw that she would never take a bite if we kept just encouraging her. So I did the only logical thing. I grabbed a spoon, took a bite myself, swallowed it, and showed her that I wasn’t dropping dead. Then I gave Seonghwa a bite too, just to prove he wasn’t dropping dead either—”

“As if I were some kind of test subject,” Seonghwa commented dryly.

“Doesn’t matter, it worked,” Wooyoung said triumphantly. “Then she had no excuse left and started eating.”

Yunho raised his eyebrows at Wooyoung and slowly grinned. “Wait… you literally showed her the food wasn’t poisoned, like some kind of servant drinking from the king’s goblet first?”

Yeosang smirked and shook his head. “That must have looked ridiculous.”

Wooyoung waved a hand dismissively. “Who cares how it looked? It worked! She ate, and guess what? She’s still alive. So if you ask me, I’m a genius.”

Seonghwa shook his head with a small smile. “If this is your definition of genius, we need to lower our standards.”

Jongho chuckled. “I have to admit, I wish I had seen how you pulled that off.”

Yeosang turned back to Seonghwa. “And how was she once she started eating?”

Seonghwa glanced at (y/n). “Calm. But… confused. Like she didn’t understand why we weren’t being hostile anymore. Like she wasn’t used to people acting normal around her.”

His words left a brief silence between them.

Yunho was the one to break it. “Well,” he said, “I don’t know what happened to her, but if you and Wooyoung are now her personal trust-builders, then good luck.”

“But what’s this new mission of yours?” Jongho asked dryly.

Wooyoung crossed his arms and answered seriously. “I’m making friends.”

A brief silence.

Then, all at once, Yunho, Yeosang, and Jongho burst into laughter.

“Wait, wait,” Jongho gasped, leaning against the wall for support. “With her?” He nodded toward (y/n).

Yeosang wiped an imaginary tear from his eye, feigning seriousness. “The girl who hates us and tried to escape? Wooyoung, how hard did she hit your head against San?”

Wooyoung huffed and shot Seonghwa a glare. “This is why I never tell you guys anything.”

“Because I tell the truth?” Seonghwa asked with an innocent smile.

“Well, now you have to explain,” Yunho said, crossing his arms. “Because I believe this about as much as I believe that Jongho would ever share his food.”

Jongho raised his eyebrows in offense. “Hey! I—” He stopped when Wooyoung shot him a knowing look. “… Okay, fair point.”

Wooyoung took a deep breath and turned to the group. “Look, I thought about it… and maybe Mingi has a point. The (y/n) without the fox—” he nodded at the sleeping figure, “—she’s different. She needs friends.”

Yeosang studied him sharply. “And the fox?”

Wooyoung was silent for a few seconds, glancing at the floor before meeting Yeosang’s gaze. “I’m not sure yet.”

The laughter slowly faded from the group. Jongho and Yunho exchanged a brief glance, while Yeosang looked at (y/n) thoughtfully.

Seonghwa finally broke the silence. “We need to stay alert. But…” he turned to Wooyoung, “if you want to be friends with her, go ahead. As long as it doesn’t get us into trouble.”

Wooyoung grinned and casually threw an arm around Seonghwa’s shoulder. “Come on, I’m great at making friends.”

“Or at forcing yourself onto people,” Yeosang remarked dryly, raising an eyebrow.

“Same thing.”

Jongho shook his head and started organizing the pile of firewood. “I just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Wooyoung.”

“Don’t worry.” Wooyoung glanced briefly at (y/n), who was still fast asleep. “I’ve got everything under control.”

The day passed in a slow, relaxed rhythm. Outside, the sky was clear, and a soft breeze drifted in through the half-open windows, mixing the stale scent of wood and herbs with the fresh outdoor air. The hut was filled with the quiet murmur of conversation, the scrape of knives against wood, and the occasional crackling of the fireplace.

Yeosang had settled on the other side of the room with a bundle of herbs and fabrics, working intently on grinding and mixing different medicinal plants—something he always did when he had the chance. Yunho and Jongho had rekindled the fire and were preparing a pot of soup, a dish that would be easy to reheat over the next few days.

Meanwhile, Seonghwa and Wooyoung kept an eye on the girl. She lay still, her breathing steady, her face less tense than it had been that morning. Occasionally, she shifted slightly in her sleep, her brows briefly furrowing as if she were dreaming, but she remained deeply asleep.

Wooyoung tapped a spoon against a bowl and looked at Seonghwa. “Your turn.”

Seonghwa sighed, took the bowl of water, and sat beside (y/n). “She’s asleep,” he pointed out.

“She’ll wake up if you say her name,” Wooyoung replied, leaning against the table with a playful grin. “You’ve got that serious, authoritative voice—like you’re interrogating her.”

Seonghwa shot him an amused look and shook his head. “Maybe you should call her, since you’re the one who wants to be friends.”

Wooyoung shrugged. “Good point, but I’m lazy.”

Just then, (y/n) shifted slightly and opened her eyes. She blinked a few times, her gaze hazy and drowsy. Seonghwa gently tapped the rim of the bowl. “Here, drink some.”

(y/n) stared at him for a moment, not quite awake yet, but when she saw the water, she slowly took the bowl and sipped cautiously. Seonghwa watched her closely, while Wooyoung observed with satisfaction.

“So obedient,” Wooyoung teased with a lopsided grin. “You’d almost think you’re starting to trust us.”

(y/n) shot him a tired, narrow-eyed glare but said nothing, handing the bowl back to Seonghwa. She turned her head away and drifted back to sleep.

Wooyoung glanced at Seonghwa and grinned. “See? Friendship in progress.”

Seonghwa sighed and stood up. “Call it whatever you want.”

The rest of the day passed in a calm atmosphere. Jongho and Yunho had begun cutting meat, while Yeosang occasionally moved between them, adding herbs and spices. The hut smelled amazing, and even Wooyoung seemed content as he leaned back lazily, munching on some fruit.

Every now and then, Seonghwa or Yeosang would check (y/n)’s forehead to make sure her fever hadn’t returned, but her temperature remained stable. Wooyoung had unofficially become the designated water carrier, making sure she drank something each time she woke up.

By evening, as the sun hung low and the shadows stretched long, the men had just finished their own meal when footsteps sounded outside. The door creaked open, and Hongjoong, Mingi, and San stepped inside, their clothes dusty, their faces sweaty from the long day.

“We’re back,” Hongjoong announced, dropping the sacks and rolled-up maps they had gathered onto the floor beside him.

San stretched and grinned at the others. “Smells good in here. Did you guys have a day off or something?”

Yunho chuckled and patted one of the pots. “You have no idea what an amazing meal you just missed.”

Mingi glanced from the pot to Wooyoung’s unusually relaxed posture and frowned. “And? How did things go here?”

Seonghwa looked at (y/n), who was still sleeping, then turned back to the group. “Quiet. She ate, drank, and slept all day. No fever. No fox.”

Wooyoung grinned and leaned against the table. “Oh, and I have a new mission.”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Becoming friends with (y/n),” Wooyoung declared proudly.

A brief silence followed.

San, Mingi, and Hongjoong stared at him in disbelief.

“…What?” Mingi was the first to speak.

“You heard him,” Yeosang said dryly. “He’s officially on a friendship mission.”

San broke into a wide grin and clapped Wooyoung on the back. “Well, good luck with that. Hope you don’t get your heart broken.”

Wooyoung scoffed. “I’m charismatic. She won’t be able to resist.”

Hongjoong chuckled, shaking his head as he sank into a chair. “I don’t know if I want to place a bet on this.”

Jongho and Yeosang began filling bowls with the steaming soup and handed them to Hongjoong, Mingi, and San. The three men, clearly hungry after their long day, accepted them gratefully and started eating as they discussed their findings. The atmosphere was relaxed, filled with conversation and teasing remarks about their exhausting journey.

On the other side of the hut, Wooyoung and Yunho were focused on (y/n). Wooyoung filled a bowl with stew and let his spoon rest inside, glancing at (y/n), who sat against the wall, her shoulders tense. Her eyes darted around the room, scanning the men who had now all returned.

She had eaten and drunk all day without much resistance, but now that the hut was full, the voices of the men surrounding her, she had slipped back into that hyper-aware state. Her breathing was shallower, her gaze restless, as if she was ready to spring up at any moment.

Wooyoung noticed it immediately.

He lightly tapped his spoon against the rim of the bowl and held it up. “Hey, it’s mealtime again. You did well today, let’s keep that going.”

(y/n) didn’t react. Her eyes remained sharp, her shoulders tense.

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow and tried again. “(y/n), come on. You know it’s not poisoned, I showed you this morning. You trusted me then, right?”

Still no response. Her gaze stayed wary, as if she hadn’t even heard him.

Yunho, standing beside Wooyoung, glanced between them and cleared his throat. “Maybe we should try something different?”

Wooyoung sighed and pulled a chair closer. “Yeah, I guess my tricks don’t work when there’s too much of an audience.” He turned halfway toward the rest of the group and called over his shoulder, “Can you guys do something else for a moment? She won’t eat if she feels watched.”

Hongjoong, Mingi, and San, who had been silently observing (y/n), exchanged glances.

San let out a short chuckle and leaned back. “I’m not even looking at her, but fine.”

Hongjoong, noticing how (y/n) only tensed more under their attention, set his spoon down and nodded at the others. “Alright, let’s stop staring at her like we’re about to eat her. Go on with your mission, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes and focused on (y/n) again. He leaned in slightly and gave Yunho a light tap on the arm. “Your turn. She doesn’t trust me enough yet, so now we’re bringing in Yunho.”

Yunho blinked in surprise. “Me? Why me?”

“Because you’re big, warm, and non-threatening,” Wooyoung said without hesitation. “You’re the only one who automatically makes people feel safe. If anyone can get her to eat, it’s you.”

Hongjoong, Mingi, and San, pretending not to watch, couldn’t suppress their grins. San even let out a short laugh. “Now he’s dragging others into his friendship mission. This keeps getting better.”

“You’re my assistant now,” Wooyoung declared, handing the bowl to Yunho. “We’re going for the gentle approach.”

Yunho sighed, took the bowl, and looked at (y/n). Her eyes were now on him, still wary, but he also saw confusion.

He smiled warmly and moved a little closer—but not too close. “I know this might be hard, but you need to keep eating, (y/n). Your body needs it. And don’t worry, we’re not watching. We just want you to regain your strength.”

He lifted the bowl slightly and waited patiently.

(y/n)’s eyes flickered to Wooyoung, then back to Yunho. She was clearly nervous, but something about Yunho’s calm demeanor didn’t put her completely on edge.

“I’ll try it first,” Yunho said softly. He scooped up a spoonful, blew on it lightly, and took a bite himself. Then, he held the spoon out to her again.

A long silence.

(y/n) stared warily at the spoon Yunho was holding out. Even though she had just seen him eat, her body remained tense, as if her instincts were warning her against it. Yunho noticed her hesitation and smiled gently.

“It’s really okay,” he said softly. “Take your time. I know it’s overwhelming with everyone here, but it’s just food. Nothing more.”

(y/n)’s fingers clenched briefly around her blanket before she slowly reached out and took the spoon. She took a small bite, her eyes still alert, but Yunho kept his expression warm and relaxed.

“That’s good,” he encouraged. “You don’t have to eat everything at once, but every bite helps.”

She chewed slowly, her gaze drifting to the others in the room. They were still talking among themselves, but no one was openly watching her anymore.

Wooyoung, who had just been confidently orchestrating the situation, turned back to them. “Look at that, teamwork! This is exactly why I picked Yunho.”

“Picked?” Yunho asked, offering (y/n) another spoonful.

Wooyoung held up a finger. “Yes, because you’re the ultimate gentle giant. No one trusts me right away, but you? Everyone trusts you. Even (y/n) is giving in.”

(y/n) swallowed her bite and raised an eyebrow at Wooyoung. “That probably just means you have a bad reputation.”

It slipped out before she could stop herself.

For a few seconds, there was silence. Yunho raised his eyebrows at her, and Wooyoung blinked in surprise.

Then, suddenly, Wooyoung burst into laughter. “Well, well, look who’s talking.” He patted his chest proudly.

Then, hesitantly, (y/n) finally took the spoon and started eating on her own.

Wooyoung triumphantly threw his hands in the air. “Ha! See? I’m a genius.”

Yunho shook his head, laughing, and glanced at Seonghwa. “This is a really weird day.”

Seonghwa, who had been watching quietly, smirked and took a sip of his tea. “I have to admit, this is the most creative I’ve ever seen Wooyoung.”

Meanwhile, Mingi couldn’t resist whispering to San, “Wanna bet how long this lasts before we lose her trust again?”

San chuckled. “I’d say at least a week.”

But as the group exchanged amused glances, (y/n) kept eating—still visibly tense, but compliant with the way Yunho and Wooyoung handled things.

And even though no one said it out loud, everyone in the hut knew it was a victory.

Wooyoung, still grinning, took the empty bowl from her hands and tapped it playfully. “Anyway, mission accomplished. And I hear it already—time for bed, Little Fox. Tomorrow’s a new day.”

“Little Fox?” (y/n) repeated, confused.

“Yep,” Wooyoung said cheerfully. “You’re officially under my care now, so I’m giving you a nickname. You can thank me later.”

The rest of the men laughed again, and (y/n) wasn’t sure if she should be irritated or just confused. She was so used to hostility that she didn’t know how to react to this playful atmosphere.

With one last glance at Yunho, who still had a calm smile, and Wooyoung, who looked at her like he had already won, she decided that maybe—just maybe—these two could be trusted.

The hut was quiet. Outside, the occasional bark of a night creature echoed, and the wind rustled softly through the trees. Inside, the men were scattered around, some on bedding, others just using their jackets as pillows. The fire had died down to a small smoldering glow, just enough to keep the night’s chill at bay.

Seonghwa sat leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching (y/n)’s sleeping form. Her breathing was steady, her face more relaxed than it had been all day. But still, he had the feeling that even in sleep, she was alert, as if she could wake at any moment.

On the other side of the room, Hongjoong moved soundlessly until he settled next to Seonghwa. “You’re still awake.”

“So are you,” Seonghwa replied dryly.

Hongjoong ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “San, Mingi, and I mapped out the route through the swamp today. If we want to reach the treasure, we have to go through it. There’s no other option.”

Seonghwa nodded slowly. “And? How bad is it?”

Hongjoong glanced at the sleeping men around them before continuing. “Bad. The swamp is deep and unpredictable. The ground beneath your feet can disappear in an instant, and some areas are nothing but pure quicksand. San discovered that in certain parts, toxic gases linger. Birds flying over those areas just drop from the sky.”

Seonghwa frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a shortcut I’d recommend.”

“It’s either that or spending days circling the mountains and taking a route that’s even more dangerous because of bandits and wild animals,” Hongjoong said, resting his chin on his hand. “We’ll have to be careful. But I think we can do it—if we prepare properly.”

Seonghwa considered this for a moment before slowly nodding. “If anyone can do it, it’s us.”

A brief silence fell between them.

“And (y/n)?” Hongjoong asked eventually. “How was she today?”

Seonghwa ran a hand through his hair and glanced at her again. “Different,” he finally said. “The fox is gone.”

Hongjoong turned to him, eyes narrowing. “Gone?”

Seonghwa nodded. “Not hiding. Not lurking. Just… gone. Everything about her—her posture, the way she speaks, even how she defends herself—it’s like we’re not even looking at the same person we met at the inn.”

Hongjoong studied (y/n) thoughtfully. “Do you think it’s temporary?”

Seonghwa shrugged. “I don’t know. But I do know that this girl—” he nodded toward (y/n), “is different from the fox we knew. And I’m starting to believe she needs more protection than we thought.”

Hongjoong hummed softly. “Then we need to be careful with how we handle her. And we need to see if the fox comes back… because if she does, we need to be ready for it.”

Seonghwa nodded slowly. “Exactly.”

A cold gust of wind slipped through a crack in the hut, and both men stared silently into the darkness. The dangers of the swamp ahead were great. But perhaps the most unpredictable factor wasn’t the swamp, nor the treasure—but the girl lying in their midst.

next chapter

[butididntpourthewhiskeys]

Homebodies

A little fluff for your TTPD weekend.

~~~

“No I promise, just sit down, I’ll be done in just a minute, mom.” she says firmly in response to her mother asking if she needs any help in the kitchen. Travis just gives Andrea that one look she’s grown to know too well. His eyebrows raised an inch and a smirk on his face that tells the blonde woman he’s got her daughter all figured out.

Leave it to me.

She giggles quietly at Travis, then slowly walks back into the living room to sit down next to Scott. Travis looks at all the different dishes on the counter behind her. The California sun is slowly setting. He should’ve known this morning when she announced that she’ll cook ‘a few Italian primi piatti’ that the ruthless perfectionist lurking inside of his girlfriend would finally make a come back on this Friday. After running around all day, going to the gym, completing her cardio challenge, baking cupcakes for her parents, finishing a work meeting, discussing a music video concept with her team and signing a few new contracts, she of course decided to hit the delicacy shop she loves out here in LA, just to buy all the ingredients she needs for a total of six different Italian dishes that she wants to make for him and her parents tonight. He knows too well by now that whenever Taylor is in this state of mind, there’s no stopping her. If she sets her mind onto something, there’s nothing anyone can say or do to make her loosen up a little. Even if that would involve her actually enjoying this quiet evening with him and her family instead of standing in the kitchen for a solid two hours now, not having had a single conversation with any one of her parents yet.

“What else needs to be done? I can cut veggies? I’m good at cutting stuff.” he tries one last time, steals a carrot stick from her cutting board and starts munching. While stirring the big blue Dutch oven in front of her, she looks back at him for a second, stressed, clearly not amused that he’s eating her uncooked food.

“No, all good. I just need to make sure the risotto won’t thicken too much and once that’s done you guys can sit down and eat the carpaccio before it gets soggy because I need to take the bread out of the oven and quickly scrap together the bruschetta sauce..”

Travis just sighs deeply, takes a step closer towards her. She’s too stressed whipping up the food in front of her to even notice him trying to get closer.

“How about we just let the bruschetta be? We’ve got so much food, babe. It’s just us four. It’s also really late already.”

She shakes her head, not responding to him and he knows that if he pushes her any more now, she might actually get mad at him tonight.

“How about I start cutting some tomatoes for the bruschetta then?” he says with a sigh, finally gave into her obsession with the tomato bread. For a moment she looks up at him, a weak smile on her face. It immediately lights up his entire body.

“That would be great.” she just says, still a bit hesitant and he knows why. She’s not sure if she should be happy that he’s offering to help her, or if she should be worried about the fact that he might cut off his fingers while doing so.

“Sure.” he says, can see the washed and perfectly ripe tomatoes sitting in the drain by the sink right next to her. He grabs one of the tomatoes, holds it up in the air with a question mark on his face.

“Little cubes?”

She nods, a smile on her face.

“Thanks, Trav.” she says then, still busy stirring the risotto in front of her. She doesn’t even notice that he gets closer to her, and fast enough has stolen her cheek a gentle kiss. She giggles all surprised about his gentleness, then feels him lean in again after a second.

“You’re very welcome, crazy.”

Another kiss leaving her cheek. She just giggles, continues stirring her risotto.

_________

“Taylor, that was absolutely incredible.”

She smiles proudly at her father sitting across from her, takes one last sip from her white wine.

“Thanks so much. So glad you liked it.”

“Honey, it was delicious but you didn’t have to put in all this work just because we’re visiting.” Andrea says, her tone a bit more dunning than Scott’s was before. Taylor just rolls her eyes, a bit annoyed that everyone around her acts like she reinvented the wheel with this Italian dinner. Yes, it was some cooking time to prepare this meal, but she loves hosting and loves being a cook. Her mom should know that better than anyone.

“Tay loves spoiling our guests.” Trav says then, and Taylor looks up at the big man sitting next to her. She starts smiling. Our guests. It was a simple sentence. But it made her feel a certain way. He’s home. This has become his home, too.

“I do. Also, this is Trav’s favorite dish. So..”

“Hey, don’t put this on me now.” He says quickly, jokingly holds up his hands in an innocent gesture that makes the whole table laugh. Taylor can’t help but giggle, too. She playfully hits him in the side.

“I gained fifteen pounds since December, Scott. Fifteen pounds.” he says dramatically to both Andrea and Scott, who amusedly witness the interaction between him and Taylor.

“That’s a good sign, though.” her father laughs, especially because his daughter starts hitting the man’s upper arm some more, looking deeply shocked from him, to her mom and back at Travis again.

“Do not even start blaming me for that. Every time I have food laying around he eats it. That’s not on me.”

Andrea starts laughing, and so does Scott. Travis just rolls his eyes playing pretend, sips one last time on his wine glass before looking at the blonde woman in the black top sitting next to him, giving him a playful side eye. She looks absolutely gorgeous as always, but there’s something in her eyes that gives her away. She’s exhausted. Deeply exhausted and tired, but he knows she won’t ever admit to it.

Without countering her some more, Travis just places his wine glasses in front of him, then wanders with his right hand to her head. He starts gently caressing her hair, wandering down to her neck then, where his thumbs draw some soft and slow circles. He can see her eyes getting smaller and her smile getting softer. His touch helps her let her guard down slowly. But she’s not the only one sitting around this table smiling quietly. Both of her parents witness his gentle gesture silently, a smile on both their faces, unsure if they’ve ever seen their daughter look as loved and taken care of as she does right now.

“You had three hours of sleep last night. How are you even still upright?”

She giggles, his hand now leaving her neck and reaching for her cold left hand.

“Jetlag and being tired is a choice.”

Andrea starts laughing. She knows just as much as Travis that this is the most ridiculous saying her daughter comes up with whenever she’s urged to slow down a little.

“Mhm. Sure.” he just says laughingly, knowing damn well that there’s no arguing with her tonight. Within less than two seconds, she gets up, starts cleaning the dinner table.

“How about you start picking a movie and we do the dishes.” Andrea now takes initiative but before she can even finish her sentence, Taylor shakes her head and makes sure to grab the used plates quicker than her mother can.

“Absolutely not. Trav will go pick a movie with you guys, I’m gonna quickly clean up and feed the cats and join you then.”

“I can feed the cats, babe.” the man who just got up right next to her tries once more but she shakes her head.

“No, please pick a movie with mom and dad.” She asks him with a serious look on her face and he sighs, just shakes his head in disbelief, knowing damn well that he’s got to let her be her obsessive self tonight.

“Alright guys, what do you want to watch?”

_________

“Why is it so quiet in here…”

“Because we are waiting for you, honey.” Scott says from the living room couch, looking at Taylor who stands in the now clean and shiny kitchen preparing the bowls for her cats.

“No, just start the movie already. I’ll be there in a second.” she says, really doesn’t want them to have to wait any longer. After all, it’s past nine already now. The view onto her little backyard is pitch black, and she knows her parents are still jet lagged, too.

“Absolutely not.” Travis says from the very right couch on which he sits, giving her that look she loves so much. With the remote control in his hand, as comfortable as he can be, he smiles at her, looking right into her eyes somehow even though this massive living room is dividing them.

“You can’t miss the beginning. It’s the most important part of this movie.”

“Alright, alright, give me one second.” she says, places the bowls in front of the three impatient cats waiting for their dinner, and washes her hands with her favorite lavender soap in the big kitchen sink one last time.

“Do you guys have drinks? Do you need any snacks, or ice cream? Trav, do we still have the…”

“We have everything, honey. Now enough with all this madness. Sit down on your ass. Now!” Andrea says in a new tone, which Travis hadn’t experienced before. It makes him smile though. Suddenly, Taylor just nods, turns off the lights in the kitchen and finally, after what felt like an eternity, makes her way up to her family lounging in the living room. Travis smiles at the beauty in front of him, immediately opens his arms for her to sit down next to him.

“Come on, babe. Lay down.” he just mumbles, gets comfortable on the big couch himself, a pillow in his neck, and enjoys to feel Taylor cuddle up to him, becoming the little spoon to be able to face the big flat screen.

“Alright, are we ready?”

“Yes.” Both Scott and Andrea answer annoyed from their seats and it makes Taylor laugh. Travis hits the play button and the movie starts. His right hand securely around Taylor’s small body frame, slowly wandering onto her stomach. She places her hand on top of his, and with his head on the pillow behind him, he leans over to her once, breathing in her incredible smelling hair, and steals her neck one last kiss. She moves a bit more, trying to get comfortable, and he can feel how fast her heart beats. He knew it. She’s been running around all day, not even allowing herself a single moment of rest. She’s rattled up, and her inability to just lay still in his arms is proof enough. Sometimes, he feels like whenever she’s not playing a show she needs to run around all day to compensate for her lack of adrenaline rush. It’s not good for her though. It’s not good to be in a constant state of stress.

The movie has just started and he catches himself every so often just staring at her instead. Her silhouette in the darkness, lid up by nothing but the flickering tv light. She’s the most beautiful person he knows. Not a single ounce of badness about her. It terrifies him sometimes, how deeply he loves her. How pure his feelings really are for her. His thoughts manifest themselves once more as she starts laughing about a scene on tv and he realizes that he was way too distracted to follow the storyline until now.

A few moments later, Travis can finally feel her become more and more still in his arms. Her hand still firmly over his, her thumb drawing the ever same slow circles on the back of his hand. She’s slowly coming down from her day. And half an hour later, he knows she’s fighting sleep. Whilst both of her parents are still awake watching and enjoying the movie he chose, the blonde woman in his arms has grown unusually quiet. It takes another five minutes and he feels her spasm once. She’s fighting sleep when really, she shouldn’t. Travis slowly lets go of her stomach, moves his big hand over her cold and naked upper arm instead. Nothing but the tv light lighting up her sleepy face.

“Baby?”

“Mhm?” she answers in her half sleeping state, of course pretending to be fully awake.

“Can you reach for the blanket next to you?”

She slowly sits up, grabs the blanket and just hands it to him, too tired to fully recognize the fact that she’s freezing in her top, and that she needs the blanket more than he does. She just lays down again, her head this time getting comfortable on his upper arm. He opens up the soft blanket over her, feels Taylor finally giving in. With her eyes half closed and the same tired disoriented look on her face whenever she wakes up at night to go to the bathroom, Taylor turns around, signaling him to open his arms for her some more. She’s now fully turned away from the tv, her sleepy face facing his chest. He protectively wraps the blanket around her cold torso, feels her little hand placed on his chest over his sweater. With her wrapped in his arms, and the blanket, Travis looks down at her closing her eyes, finally allowing herself to fall asleep. He leans down to kiss her forehead once, his arm around her, stroking her back up and down.

“Sorry, I’m just..”

He doesn’t know whether her mumbles are an apology to him or her parents about the fact that she falls asleep twenty minutes into the movie. But he’s having none of it.

“Shh. I’ll tell you later what happened.” he whispers, and she doesn’t even nod. Instead, he can watch her breathing get slower and slower and steadier and steadier. It takes less than a minute and she’s fully asleep in his arms. A little sigh escapes her throat. Her toes between his legs move once. In his arms, she slowly lets go. And Travis can now face the TV again, and actually enjoy the movie knowing that the woman in his arms is finally getting some well deserved rest. But his gentleness doesn’t remain unnoticed. Both Scott and Andrea watch Taylor drift off in his big arms, his left hand securely on her head, his right one around her waist, stroking her back over the blanket up and down every so often. Not one of the two can recall a time, in which they’ve witnessed their daughter more effortlessly safe, feeling loved and able to be herself more than in this moment.

[myloveobbsessed]

Ｋｎｅａｄｉｎｇ ｙｏｕ

•••

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Characters: Childe x Femreader

Notes: Royal AU

•••

You move around the palace kitchen with practiced ease, expertly preparing supper for the royal family. The rich aroma of freshly baked bread and simmering spices fills the air as you focus on kneading dough, your hands working rhythmically.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a quick movement a hand snatching a treat from one of the appetizer plates. Your head snaps up instantly, and your sharp gaze lands on the culprit.

The prince.

He stands there, mid-bite, eyes wide with the unmistakable look of someone caught red-handed.

You sigh but give him a small bow in respect before speaking. “Your Majesty, I wish you would not do that.” “it could've been poisoned”

Childe chuckles lightly swallowing his food. “Oh but I know they are not” you give a small huff “yes but what if they were I could loose my job and most importantly my life if you were to get sick. Plus those are for tonight”

Childe leans against the counter, completely unbothered by your scolding. He rests his chin in his palm, grinning like a mischief-maker caught in the act but utterly unapologetic.

“Oh, come on,” he teases, licking a crumb from his thumb. “If someone were foolish enough to poison me, don’t you think I’d notice before it even touched my lips?” He taps his temple knowingly. “I am a Harbinger, after all.”

You sigh, returning to your work. “Even so, I’d rather not take any risks, Your Majesty.”

He watches you for a moment, eyes twinkling with amusement. Then, as if struck by an idea, he suddenly leans in closer. “You’re really dedicated, huh?”

Your hands pause briefly before continuing to knead the dough. “It is my duty,” you reply simply.

Childe hums thoughtfully. Then, before you can react, he reaches over swift as ever and steals another treat, popping it into his mouth before darting out of reach.

“Childe!” you exclaim, exasperated.

Laughing, he winks at you as he backs toward the door. “Relax, I’m just making sure everything is really safe for the banquet. You should be thanking me!”

You shoot him a flat look, but he just grins wider. “Your Majesty what are you even doing in here?” childes gazes drifts from yours before connecting again. “Im simply hungry”

You raise a brow skeptical by his response but brush it off and go back to your dough not wanting to be distracted any longer than you should. “Im sorry your Majesty but I can't be distracted”

Childe watches you work for a few moments before scoffing closer to you in a not-so-subtle way your bodies nearly touching, the warmth from his body radiating against your side.

After a few moments of unbearable silence and his close proximity you speak. “Y-your Majesty are you in need of something?” you looks at you as if oblivious to what he's doing. “No”

You swallow, trying to maintain composure despite the tension growing between you. The proximity of Childe’s presence makes it difficult to focus, but you do your best to keep working with the dough, pretending not to notice how close he is.

His response is nonchalant, and yet, there’s something in his expression that makes you pause. His eyes glint with amusement, like he’s enjoying watching you squirm just a little.

You steal a quick glance at him, unsure if he’s playing some kind of game or genuinely oblivious. But his smirk only deepens as if he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Your Majesty,” you try again, voice a little more shaky this time, “If you don’t need anything, I must ask that you step back. I still have work to do.”

Instead of stepping back, Childe takes another small step closer, his voice lowering as he speaks with feigned innocence. “Why so formal? You’ve known me for quite some time now, haven’t you? Surely a little more… relaxed company isn’t too much of a distraction.”

His proximity is too much to ignore now, and you can feel your heart racing at his teasing. Every inch of your body is aware of him, from the heat radiating from his chest to the way his breath feels against your ear as he leans even closer.

Trying to stay focused, you take a deep breath, willing yourself to remain professional, even as you feel like you’re slowly losing the battle. “Please, Your Majesty…”

“I just want to talk to the prettiest baker I know” Childe steps behind you and wraps his arms around your waist erupting a small gasp from you. You turn your head to him a bit your voice a low “y-your Majesty! This isn't an appropriate in the slightest”

You squirm in his hold a bit trying to shake him off “and…what if someone sees”

Childe only laughs, tightening his hold just enough to keep you in place without truly restraining you. His chin rests lightly on your shoulder as he hums in amusement. “Then they’ll see how much I adore my favorite baker,” he muses, his voice teasing but undeniably sincere.

Your breath hitches, heat rushing to your face. “Y-Your Majesty, please,” you plead, hands gripping the edge of the counter as you try to maintain some semblance of control. “This is highly improper…”

He chuckles, tilting his head slightly so his lips are close to your ear. “Improper? Maybe,” he concedes, his tone playful. “But you don’t seem to be pushing me away too hard.”

Your heart pounds at his words. It’s true you could shove him off if you really tried. But the warmth of his embrace, the way his voice drips with mischief yet holds a hint of something deeper, makes it hard to resist.

Sensing your hesitation, Childe smirks. “See? You don’t really mind, do you?” His fingers brush lightly against your waist, making you shiver. “Besides, what’s the harm in indulging me for just a little while?”

You huff lightly trying to cool the heat on your cheeks and your beating heart a feeling you can't stop from happening whenever you're around him. “Theres a lot of food that has to be made and I can't do that if you're here clinging to me.” you try to be annoyed.

Childe just chuckles once again before turning you around to face him. His arms placed on both your sides trapping you against him and the counter. “Alright, alright…Ill leave you alone for a kiss.”

Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening at his bold request. “A k-kiss?” you stammer, your face growing impossibly warmer. “Y-Your Majesty, that’s—”

Childe tilts his head, amusement dancing in his ocean-blue eyes. “Oh? Is that a no?” He leans in slightly, the distance between you shrinking. “Shame. Guess I’ll just have to stay right here, getting in your way until I get what I want.”

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined by the way your heart is hammering against your ribs. “You’re impossible.”

He grins. “And you’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

Realizing he won’t back down, you huff and rise onto your toes, intending to press the quickest peck imaginable to his cheek just to get rid of him. But at the last second, Childe turns his head, and your lips meet his instead.

Your entire body freezes. His lips are warm, soft, and the smirk he was wearing just moments ago has faded into something gentler. For a brief second, you forget where you are who you are.

Then reality comes crashing back. You pull away like you’ve been burned, hand flying to your lips. “Y-You tricked me!”

Childe merely laughs, clearly pleased with himself. “I never said where I wanted the kiss, did I?” He taps his chin thoughtfully before flashing you a wink. “But I have to say, that was much better than I expected.”

You gape at him, half mortified, half flustered beyond belief. “Just go already!”

“Hmm how about one more?”

“Childe!”

Childe throws his hands up in defense. “Alright I'm going” he takes a step back before gently taking your floury hand into his gently kissing the back of your hand then softly rubbing his thumb over it. “I'll let you get back to work… for now.”

While being momentarily distracted by his gentle action the sly prince swipes another treat plopping it in his mouth. Making you gasp and hold back from hitting him with a rolling pin. You push him towards the kitchen doors.

“Out, out!”

Childe chuckles as you shove him toward the door, barely budging as he grins down at you. “So violent,” he teases, licking the crumbs from his lips. “You sure you’re just a baker? Because you’ve got the aggression of a royal guard.”

You huff, crossing your arms. “Maybe I should be one. Then I could actually throw you out instead of just shoving you.”

He smirks, leaning in ever so slightly. “Oh? You’d miss me too much, though.”

You freeze for just a second, your face heating up, but then you snap out of it and push him harder. “Go, Your Majesty, before I decide to test if this rolling pin is good for something other than dough.”

Childe laughs but finally steps out of the kitchen, hands raised in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I’m going!”

As soon as he’s gone, you let out a heavy sigh, pressing a flour-dusted hand to your face. The warmth from his lips still lingers on your skin. Shaking your head, you turn back to your work, trying and failing not to think about the lingering warmth where his lips had pressed against your hand.

•••

[valentine-cafe]

🍒 𓂃 𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑼𝑷 : almond & sakura jelly !! . . . grim reaper & kitsune ⊹ gn reader .

. ᘛ 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑡​​​​​​​𝑢​​​​​​​𝑟​​​​​​​𝑖𝑛​​​​​​​𝑔﹕verse 9948e ꮽ  zhào yize & shimada takara

 𐔌𖹭 ˖ ࣪  who's that ?⠀﹕an effortless grim reaper. cool, collected, charming, paired with his chaotic, mischevious kitsune partner.

ּ  ֗ recepit ℘ ... you have the kitchens of the zhao estate all for yourself to bake in. . . or so you thought ⊹ cw ٬٬ none.

Flour covers the kitchen counter, awaiting the dough patientily. You finish balling it up in your hand, and then slap it onto the stone surface.

You were fortunate to borrow the zhao estate kitchen all for yourself today. So you could make the cakes and the bread for tomorrow's ceremony. A little gathering of high reapers from across the world will be speaking with the lady of the sanctuary and her heirs.

This kitchen is always busy, and full of staff cooking food for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Without them, it is so serene, yet the hard work atmosphere is prevalent. It urges you to finish your own little project here. You smile fondly in memory that Lady yue meng yao was so baffled you insisted doing this all by yourself. It was a lot for only one person after all—

But your stubborness and willingness persisted.

You hadn't expected for anyone to sneak in while you were doing your work, however.

A flash of pink brushes past your shoulder, and steals one of the freshly baked cookies. Before flash of grey moves past you, and steals one of the small tanghulu sticks.

Your brow twitches at the sounds of snickering.

"Both of you," the anger is evident in your voice, and it only makes the two thieves laugh instead. Until you pick up a wooden spoon and throw it across the room. It didn't matter which of them it hit, so long it hit one of them.

Bonk.

Takara's head of pink hair is tossed back as the back of the spoon hits her right in the forehead, propelling straight to Yize next to her, smacking him across the face with the flat, big side of the spoon.

"Ow ow ow!" Takara whines, her fox-like noises erupting in the kitchen.

Your hands find your hips, and wipe the dough remains in your apron. "That's what both of you get. You either help or you get out of the kitchen. And stop stealing my sweets!"

"The just taste so good," Yize laughs, rubbing the back of his head, as he pops the last sugar-coated grape that was on the stick. Into his mouth. "Can't help that I love to admire your talent."

"No wonder Rasui is tired of the both of you."

"Mr. Soheir loves us very much." Takara insists with a pride covered expression. Before she picks up the spoon and starts licking at the chocolate that was on there.

"Can Kitsune eat chocolate?"

". . ."

"Takara"

꒰ ۪ ˖ ࣪ 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑢 ... info ꮽ mlist ꮽ verse ꮽ wiki . 

[linksconnected]

THE REFERENCE IS HERE BOYS (after 6 months, literally)

So, going from left to right, Blue, Red, Green, Vio. Nicknames to be decided.

Rambling under the cut

Okay so, after the adventure the four Links split up (less literally) and went to find what they actually wanted to do for the rest of their lives. Green ended up pursuing his job as a knight, and has been the one to stay the closest to Zelda, often coming over for "sleepovers" (just sleeping over in the castle) he's gotten quite good with a sword, tho that means he's lost other abilities with other weapons. He is dangerous with a bow in his hands, and will kill someone on his side by accident. He's gotten a copy of the four sword, as to not break the original. It doesn't feel as good as the original, but it's all he's got.

Blue decided to keep traveling, having gained a liking to it during their adventure. He's a little like a missionary (I think that's what it's called?) making a living by killing monsters and animals for money. He refuses to kill people, drawing his line there. If they want someone gone, they can contact the knights of Hyrule.

He's gotten quite good at a bunch of weapons! His favorite at the moment being a spear, which he also uses as a walking stick when going long distances (which is always) it's a nice job, keeps him from having to interact with too many people, even if he's like to, he's never been good at it.. too quick to anger, it seemed

Red and magic cannot live without each other. They've learned how to cook and bake, but they've learned in.. untraditional ways. It's only been a year since they've stopped burning their hands every time they tried making bread. But they're quite skilled once they figure out the fire part! Blue often takes some of their food when passing by their house, and at this point Red's cooking is the only healthy thing Vio remembers to eat, so it's working out!

Red is loved by basically everyone in the town, and after getting money to buy a house and start cooking, they've quickly learned that people would just- trade them supplies! A pie for fresh vegetables, or some soup for new clothes. They've found it to be less stressful than working for money

they don't live together anymore, tho Blue doesn't have a stable house, and therefore has his own room in Red's house, which is mostly empty almost all of the time.

Vio had spent months researching how to bring Shadow back, and after resurrecting them through...not so legal methods, the gremlin is back! They live with Vio, and often visit Zelda to play ye olde monopoly. They're still a bit of an ass, but everyone is trying to fix that, it ain't working. They don't mind behind an asshole! They found a cat yesterday, vioooo can they keep it??? Vio's spent some time at school, wanting to learn more than they already did, now that they've finished, they find most of their info in books, being a regular at the library. They're still closed off, but make some effort to try and smile at people, it looks.. awkward, but they're trying. They desperately need sunlight. Shadow goes more outside than them! Apart from going to the library, Vio doesn't leave the house much, Blue or Shadow have to physically drag them out for them to go anywhere else. Which did result in Red calling them a vampire. Shadow has clearly affected their personality, but it's shown more when they're with it, since they're a lot more open, all smirks and snarky comments, it's a side not a lot of people like, but that's shown often (since Shadow's always clinging to them)

Shadow has changed quite a bit since their original journey, and has learned about food, commonly stealing Red's freshly baked goods. They don't have a sweet tooth, instead opting for sour things, like lemons (heh) or any sour candy the nice grandma living near will give them. Vio is actually the one with the sweet tooth, often seen eating chocolate or Red's cupcakes. They've shared their love of cheesecakes with Shadow once and now it's the only thing the imp will buy them.. take a break gods, pomegranates are also pricey but appreciated

Vio: 5`4

[nightmarerodent]

How are each of the Kidz' at cooking?

Hehe I’ve been waiting for an excuse to get into this one! TY 😁

Cassie cannot cook. At least not well. She never had to growing up, Johnny always taking her to wherever her heart’s content and Sonya being too busy with her job for something as time consuming as food and opting for instant meals instead, so she’s never developed any skills in the kitchen. She can follow a recipe just fine for the most part but any nuances outside of written instructions are lost to her. The looks of abject horror on the boys faces when she asked if you really had to wash rice before cooking it…

Jacqui can cook simple meals but prefers baking. She learned fractions using measuring cups with her mom when baking cookies and slicing peaches and apples with her grandmother when making pie is a fond memory of hers. If she ever super stressed she can always whip out some mixing bowls and with in the next few hours all the stress has melted away. The pie and/or cake is a nice bonus.

Kung Jin had helped in the kitchen when he was younger, scooping filling into dumpling wraps and pinching the closed, but those days are bittersweet and long since gone. Most meals since then have been stolen or cooked on an open camp fire. Simple things like skewered meats with minimal spices or vegetables that were foraged. After joining the Shaolin, he’s had cooking duties once or twice. He can make his own bread, which he’s quite proud of.

Similarly to Jin, most of Frost’s early childhood meals were stolen. And in the pits of the Black Dragon’s fighting rings, meals had to be earned with blood. Many of her early days were filled with hunger. Once in the Lin Kuei and food was no longer something to be coveted and immediately consumed, she began to slowly learn, but only because Kuai Liang insisted it was a necessary skill to have when out in the field. Simple things, mostly from cans. Anything quick and easy and easy to carry. She’ll still steal food sometimes. Mostly from Takeda.

Takeda doesn’t just know how to cook, he an expert at it. He’s been in the kitchen since day one, being the clingy child he was, never leaving his mother’s side, and Suchin wasn’t above putting a knife in the hands of a small child. (Kid’s gotta learn sometime, right. This is what responsible parents do.) He picked up quickly and by the time he was eight he could make most simple meals by himself. After being taken in by Hanzo it was necessary to keep and improve upon the skill.

Hanzo is a lot of things. A good mentor. A great father. A skilled and feared warrior. But a good cook? No. Man could burn water if it were possible. So after training and school work and with nothing else to do, Takeda would find himself wandering into the clan’s kitchens to watch and help the other clan members prep their meals, asking questions and picking up new things. It very quickly became a routine and after 10+ years Takeda could now not only make pretty much anything from scratch, but also recreate pretty much any meal based off taste alone. Downside now is that the other Kombat Kids constantly ask him to make things for them and the one skill he’s never learned how to master is how to say no. (He secretly likes showing off).

[nekoannie-chan]

Confession

Title: Confession.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 385 words.

Square: 1 “Admitting a crush”.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Steve confesses his feelings.

Major Tags: Fluff.

Additional tags: My entry for the @fandom-free-bingo Maritime May Edition.

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish, so I wanna improve my writing skills in English. Please let me know if you notice any mistakes, and I will correct them.

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DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

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Brooklyn, 1942

The tinkling of store bells opening and closing their doors and the unmistakable aroma of freshly baked bread escaping from the corner bakery. It was a quiet afternoon, and you were walking alongside Steve Rogers.

He was walking a little slower than you, as usual. Not because he couldn't keep up with you, but because he seemed to be deep in his thoughts. Steve had always been quiet, but today, you noticed him differently. More nervous.

“Steve? “you called out to him, tilting your head to get a better look at him.

He blinked as if he had just come out of a trance and looked at you with a shy smile.

“Hmm?”

“You're distracted. Something on your mind?”

Steve cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. His posture was always a little hunched over, as if he was trying to take up less space.

“No...well, yes," he finally said, averting his eyes to the ground as they walked.

“Come on, Rogers. Let it go," you said with a smile, trying to lighten the tension.

He let out a nervous laugh and looked straight ahead as if summoning all the courage in the world to speak.

“It's just that..." he paused, took a breath and then shook his head. “Forget it, it's nothing.”

Oh, no. Now you really needed to know what was wrong.

You stopped dead in your tracks, grabbing his wrist to force him to do the same. Steve stood still, startled by the sudden closeness, and his eyes met yours.

“Steve," you said, but without letting go. “If it were 'nothing', you wouldn't be this nervous.”

He swallowed.

“I just... I don't want to ruin anything.”

You frowned.

“Ruin what?”

Steve sighed deeply, and instead of answering immediately, he looked away toward the street, as if looking for a way out. But there wasn't one.

Finally, after a long silence, he muttered so low you almost didn't hear him:

“I have a...”

“A what?”

Steve closed his eyes for a moment as if he wanted the earth to swallow him up. Then, with a resigned sigh, he dared to look at you again.

“I like you," he confessed, this time more firmly. “I’m in love with you for a long time.”

The world seemed to stop for a moment.