#is spice good to eat after just getting over a sickness? probably now

[cpunkwitch]

My growlithe has a pal now

I get to lay in bed and admire my pokemon as a distraction from the pain

Also the new spicy garlic Doritos is a distraction

There's paprika in it and cayenne pepper yummy

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Taste of You"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 3061

Tags: Fresh AU, dark rom-com, dark!Bucky, pre-serum Steve, kidnapping, cannibalism, yandere/basement wife, meet cute-ish, gay sex n' stuff, ignoring of sexual boundaries, dub-con bordering on non-con, (mostly humorous) gore, (mostly humorous) body horror

Summary: Steve is so tired of the meat market that modern dating has become. Just when he's deleted all the apps and given up on ever finding Mr. Right, he meets the perfect guy at the grocery store.

A dark, cute, funny, fucked up, and very tasty love story.

It's a Fresh AU. "If you can't handle the cannibalism, get out of the kitchen" ... or something like that

12. Tenderize

Wait! I haven't read a previous chapter. Story Masterlist

Steve:

Bucky spends the afternoon doing what he calls "meat prep." Steve tries not to look, he really does, but the House Hunters show he puts on the television doesn’t really hold a candle to the morbidly fascinating process that is Bucky, "prepping" Melissa’s leg.

Bucky sends it up in the dumbwaiter after taking Erica her lunch. He washes his hands meticulously at the sink and dries them, picks the leg up and plops it down onto the counter with a flourish. It’s the lower leg. Left or right, Steve doesn’t take note, he just sees the painted toenails, the tattoo on the ankle that he can’t quite make out. He sits on the couch and peers over the back of it, watching Bucky work.

Bucky moves with a sort of glee, almost like a dance, as if he can hear music that Steve can’t. He looks very in his element, and very handsome and capable as he works. Steve would probably spend more time admiring that, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s also watching the man slicing pieces off of a woman’s calf.

“I usually take the non-dominant forearm, first,” Bucky tells him as he’s working. “This was Melissa’s … third cut? Anyway, it’s all I’ve got left of her now. I defrosted it a couple days ago. There’s this Italian guy who always orders shank, specifically.”

Jesus fuck, Steve thinks. "Shank." He actually calls it that.

“I send it with everything he needs for my grandma’s osso buco,” Bucky declares. “Herbs, wine, specifically-curated olive oil. All that and like, some hair or some panties or something. Because, you know: perverts.” He rolls his eyes and Steve has to suppress a horrible urge to laugh. Bucky looks up and catches sight of his twitching mouth, and he smiles back. “Yeah, I know. Good ol’ Gammy made hers with beef. But trust me,” he points his knife at Steve. “This way is so much better.”

Steve chews his lip. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You-don’t-have-to,” Bucky sing-songs from the kitchen, in his element, happy. “You’re welcome to try any cut you want, anytime.” He produces a meat tenderizer and starts pounding away at the slices of meat he’s produced.

Steve winces as the hammer comes down hard, and then lighter in a series of almost loving taps. Christ. “I’ll pass for now,” he murmurs, unsure if Bucky’s heard him or not. He continues to watch the macabre display for a bit, but goes back to the television once Bucky is vacuum packing the meat with the herbs and spices.

He's very surprised (and honestly a bit grossed out with himself) that he doesn’t get more upset from watching the actual process. He doesn’t even get nauseous. Oh, it’s weird for sure. Downright shocking when he very first sees the leg lifted out of the dumbwaiter and plopped onto the countertop, the pedicured foot still attached, Bucky slicing away and hacking through bone. But Steve doesn’t retch and get sick like he thought he would. His stomach doesn’t once roil or threaten to turn. It’s like he’s already been desensitized to it, just from the sheer amount of stuff he’s imagined, from what Bucky’s told him and shown him so far, eating kidneys and ‘other-bacon’ right in front of him.

He thinks of Clint and watching Midsommar with him, asking him how he could stomach all the gore.

“It’s not real. Just movie magic, dude.”

His own lack of a physical reaction to this actual gore is what disturbs Steve the most, so he forces himself to sit back on the couch facing the tv, and actually pay attention to the show. The young married couple is searching for a house in Toronto. They need to upsize because they’re having another baby. Steve watches the show. He hopes they pick the middle house. They wind up picking the last one.

Absently, Steve wonders what osso buco is.

Bucky:

“What’s osso buco?” Steve asks.

Bucky’s just finished with his meat prep and woken Steve up from his nap on the couch. He’d been so sweet lying there, looking so peaceful. Bucky hadn’t wanted to wake him, but it's getting late, and he’s already started chilling the wines for dinner.

He smiles at Steve and sits at the opposite end of the couch from him, tangling their feet together in the middle. He describes what osso buco is. “I was surprised you watched,” he tells him gently, honestly. He rubs his socked foot against Steve’s bare one. “What’d you think?”

Steve is quiet for a long time. When he finally answers, he simply says, “You were right. We do look a lot like beef.”

Bucky busts out in a laugh and leans forward to slap him on the thigh. “Told ya!” He gets up to go and finish the final elements of their dinner. “You ready for date night, my dear?”

Steve watches him from over the back of the couch again. “Mmhm. What’re we doing?”

Bucky beams at him. He’s been looking forward to this all day. “First, we have our appetizer: La Pissaladiere.” He’s begun speaking in a very fake French accent, and Steve scoffs.

"That's terrible."

"Yeah it was kinda terrible, huh?”

Steve laughs, and then Bucky laughs with him, and for a second it feels just like one of those genuine, laughing stupidly together moments that they used to have. And it makes Bucky’s heart squeeze painfully as the brief moment fizzles out. He can see it in Steve’s face too, how it hurts.

Bucky looks down, clearing his throat. “Um, yeah. And then we’ve got this salad, pretty simple. And the main, which is …” he does a drumroll on the countertop. “Osso Buco!” He does that one in an equally terrible Italian accent, but Steve is not amused.

"What?! No! No fucking way!" he cries, tiny and furious and kneeling up higher on the couch cushions. Bucky marvels at him and has such a strong urge to tackle him into submission and sex right then and there, that he has to look away. “Bucky,” Steve growls. “You promised you wouldn’t make me—”

“Calm down, babe,” Bucky hurries, not wanting Steve’s temper to ruin their date night. “It’s the two version meal again, don’t worry. Yours is 'vegetarian'.”

Steve deflates some, but Bucky can see that he’s still wary. “Prove it,” he says, and Bucky sighs dramatically to cover up the disappointment he feels at Steve not being able to trust him yet.

“Okay, come here.” He unlocks Steve’s tether at the couch and brings him over to the island countertop, locks him there. “Look.” He points to each crockpot that’s been braising the meat for hours. He’d put tape on each one to label them. The right one reads “Vegetarian,” the left one reads “Melissa.”

He's pleased as punch when Steve rolls his eyes and even laughs a little. “This is so crazy,” he mutters. “Why can’t you just enjoy cow like everybody else?” He’s asking in a good enough natured way, so Bucky indulges him,

“I told you, Honey. We’re just better.”

“Yeah yeah, I remember. ‘Tastes like roadkill in comparison’.”

“It does,” Bucky insists, though he can see Steve rolling his eyes. “Only one way to prove me wrong,” he challenges, leaning over the counter with a smirk. Steve scowls and says no way, and Bucky backs off. Instead, he tries to explain it to him, musing, “And you know, it also just makes the whole meal more of a … a spiritual experience.” He meets Steve’s eyes, and they’re riveted on him. Bucky licks his bottom lip slowly, eager to explain, to make Steve see. “When it’s not just an animal? When it's us? Well then you’re not just eating. It's so much more than that. You’re taking someone else inside yourself. You’re consuming them. It’s …” he inhales deeply. “It’s heady. It’s meaningful.” He sees Steve gulp and knows he’s playing with fire here, but he pushes onwards, taking Steve’s small hand from over the counter and covering it with his own. “No matter what they did in their life, they’re still a person. And a person matters. In a way an animal never can.” He watches the movement of Steve's closed lips, the nervous rise and fall of his Adam's apple. Bucky shivers and breathes, “It’s a very powerful thing.”

Steve pulls his hand back slowly, never looking away from Bucky’s eyes. Bucky can’t tell if he’s terrified, or fascinated, or both. He’d take both.

He breaks the tension of the moment by pulling back and standing up straight again, giving Steve some breathing room after that—admittedly impassioned—speech. “And then of course, we have Dessert: le tarte tatìn—with fennel ice cream, though I think the French would arrest me for serving it à la mode.” He moves away to go check on the crock pots and then the oven where the Pissaladiere is baking. “Almost ready,” he says brightly, clapping his hands together. “Let’s go set the table!”

Steve:

After dinner, they decide to finish watching The Hunger Games. They’ve only got the last movie to go. Bucky puts it on and they snuggle up close together on the couch. Steve is left untethered to any cord or chain, and he spends at least the first ten minutes of the movie eyeing up every solid object in the near vicinity, imagining what would or would not be suitable for bludgeoning Bucky with.

It’s a dreadful train of thought, and when Bucky pulls him in cozily against his side and kisses his hair and whispers that he’s so happy to have Steve back with him like this, Steve almost feels guilty for his scheming. He knows he has to stay strong, though. He just sat through an entire—admittedly delicious—dinner service where he watched the other man consume wine and salad and human shank.

Excuse him, he means osso buco.

Steve’s "vegetarian" version had been delicious. Bucky is an excellent cook and Steve really, really wishes he was just a normal boyfriend. Because cute little cooking-at-home-together dinner dates are so much fun with him. If only, if only. It’s so horrible that it’s laughable, and that’s what Steve’s found himself doing more often than not. Laughing about the absurdity of the situation in which he finds himself. He tells himself that it’s okay, that it’s a coping mechanism, and not him becoming used to anything. God forbid.

In the end, Steve concedes that Bucky was right: Peeta is a much better match for Katniss. “But only due to their circumstances,” he argues, as they’re eating their dessert on the couch, the credits and soundtrack music still rolling up the tv screen. “I mean, they’re just bonded through PTSD, basically. If things had gone differently, Gale would’ve been the one to know her better, deeper.” He shrugs. “Plus, he’s cuter. And taller.”

Bucky counters by pointing out that it’s always about your circumstances. “You can’t play that ‘what if’ game,” he says. “We live through what we live through. And it changes us, and that’s okay. Life doesn't always turn out the way we planned. Happiness comes from acceptance of that.”

He’s staring straight at Steve as he says it, and Steve finds his next mouthful of tarte tatìn going down with some difficulty. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I guess so." Does Bucky really expect him to accept all of this? He shifts uncomfortably and holds out his bowl. "I ah, I think I'm done with mine.”

Bucky takes it with gentle fingers and a soft expression. “I hope you liked everything,” he says. “I wanted to make this special for you. A real treat.”

"Oh." Steve flounders with his heart in his throat. “It ... it was.”

“Mm.” Bucky sets both of their bowls on the coffee table, then he comes back and crawls over to Steve on the couch, crowding him back, and back, until Steve is lying down and Bucky's over top of him. Steve shudders, parts his lips to say something in protest, but Bucky kisses him before he can.

It’s not just the kiss, is the thing. It’s the way that Bucky’s elbows and forearms box him in. It’s the way his hands slide up Steve’s shoulders, how they trace his neck and his jaw. It’s how his full body lies atop him, how his weight pushes down, sinking Steve into the cushions as good as any restraint could. It’s how he fits so perfectly between Steve’s legs, and how his hips roll, slow and purposeful, while he kisses him.

Without meaning to, Steve moans, and the moment his hands come up to hold Bucky’s shoulders, he knows it’s game over: He's lost, tonight.

He still protests the loss, of course. Tries to stop it on the couch, and then in the hallway, and in the bedroom. But Bucky hushes him endlessly, kisses away his whimpers and licks his moans into existence, taking them as permission, as Steve conceding his loss.

Steve really, really doesn’t mean it that way, but there’s only so much he can do, and so much he can take. He’s been alone and scared for weeks now, and every time Bucky touches him it’s like a dagger in his guts, a sharp and painful reminder of how they used to make love before all this happened. How good Bucky used to make him feel, how well he’d played his body and taken him apart and made him come and cry. Steve wants that again, god damn him. He wants to feel good again.

So, somewhere in-between the leather couch and the luxury bedcovers, he really does give in.

The second he stops squirming and starts really kissing back—not just accepting it, but participating—Bucky moans louder. He bites Steve’s lip and says, “Yes, baby. Come on. Let me make you feel good.”

And isn’t that just what Steve wants? It’s certainly the best he can have, in his present situation. He shivers full-body as Bucky undresses them both, then lies out over him, warm and naked. They’re both hard, and Steve pants when Bucky slots one of those thick, firm thighs between his legs and pushes, rocks his hips so his own cock drags against Steve’s belly. “Fuck, Honey,” he breathes, kissing him. Hot kiss after hot kiss, that dominating tongue rolling in and keeping Steve’s thoughts short and disjointed.

Steve keens sharply at a particularly good roll of their hips. “Oh, oh, yeah …”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, nipping his chin. “What do you want, baby? You want my fingers? Want Daddy to make love to you?”

Steve groans and turns his cheek into the pillow to escape it, the kisses and the words, both. Bucky just hums knowingly and takes up residence at his throat instead, sucking and licking and biting at the skin. Even after all that’s happened between them, he’s still remembered that one slip Steve had, when he'd let the word tumble out of his mouth: Daddy. He squeezes his eyes shut and writhes against Bucky’s larger body, dick blurting out precum at the way Bucky touches him and treats him and talks to him. He’s so fucking perfect. ... Well, except for the whole cannibalism th—

Bucky wraps a hand around his cock and starts stroking just in time to put an end to that train of thought, and Steve gasps, his belly tightening in such sharp pleasure that he thinks he might come. “Sl-slow down!” he gasps, unable to stop his hips from jolting up. “I-I can’t. Wait, wait ..."

Bucky listens, cooing apologies and praise at him and petting his dick back down against his belly. His hand is slick. Where the hell did he get lube? Steve stops wondering when the hand ventures further back. “Tilt up for me, Honey,” Bucky murmurs, kissing his collarbone, humming an approving sound when Steve listens. “There you go. Good boy.”

Steve squirms harder at his embarrassing reaction to being praised. But it’s something he’s always gone for, and hearing Bucky say it in his gorgeous voice, from his gorgeous lips, makes it hit even harder. He feels a finger go in, and Bucky finds it easily, just like he always had before. He strokes over his prostate, never too rough, always gentle, letting the pleasure and pressure build inside Steve at his own pace.

“Shit,” Steve curses, gritting his teeth and rolling his hips against Bucky’s hand. Another finger joins the first, so easy, and Steve humps down harder against it. “Bucky,” he chokes, gasping. “W-wait, wait.”

“So sensitive, baby.” Bucky eases his fingers out and kisses at the corner of Steve's mouth, speaking smugly against his lips. “So wound up. What’s the matter, Stevie? Haven’t you been getting laid?” Steve grits his teeth and snarls a half-hearted “fuck you” at him, but it only makes Bucky laugh and slick his cock up and fit the head right to Steve’s entrance. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, propping himself up with his other arm, pushing in just a little, so slow, letting Steve’s body suck him in. “I’ll be gentle.”

He is. He pushes in so incredibly slow. So slow that it becomes torturous, makes Steve wrap his arms around his shoulders and hook his feet over the backs of his thighs, pulling him in closer. “Fuck,” he exhales against Bucky’s ear, dragging his lips over it. “Oh, Bucky.”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck me.”

Bucky starts rolling his hips, rocking into him and pulling out just a little, just enough. It’s like he doesn’t want to get too far away from Steve, doesn’t want to separate from him long enough to make their sex anything but close and deep. Steve cries out and moans and makes all sorts of shameful noises, because it feels amazing. Grinding down against Bucky and slipping a hand between their bodies to stroke himself off, it feels so goddamn good that he cries.

He tells himself that they’re tears of pleasure, of ecstasy. But that’s not entirely true. Bucky seems to know that by the tender way he kisses them off his cheeks, by the way he whispers "it’s okay, it’s okay" to him as he fucks him, and by the way he holds him so tightly once it’s over and they’ve both spent all over Steve’s stomach. “Shh sh sh,” he calms him, forcing him still once he starts to panic and cry out and pull. “Shhh. It’s okay.” He kisses his hair and holds fast until Steve collapses, giving up the struggle, exhausted. Steve cries sluggish tears, and Bucky hugs him and says quiet things into his hair for a long time. One of them might be "I love you," but Steve isn’t sure.

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[bts-0t-7]

So What? | MYG | Chapter 6

Pair: Hybrid Cat Yoongi x F Reader 

Summary: Running from a past that foreshadows him, Yoongi is adamant about ever turning back to his human counterpart form, in hopes that nobody would recognise him and take him away. You worked at a cafe with your best friend. As a more-than-normal day seemed to go by, you discovered something amidst your housing block. Perhaps - just perhaps, the nighttime is where the angels arrive. 

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hybrid, non-idol au

Warnings: Contains explicit language, abuse

WC: 2.6K

Taglist: @bearr02 @svnbangtansworld @vintageoldfashion @rkivemaar @bontensbabygirl @codeinebelle

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Hoseok ran his hand through his hair, sighing. With the bedroom door open, he could smell the spices Zurie was using to make dinner. He was tired and he hoped that Kwan-Mi didn’t mind running the shop along for a few days. He should probably go over and give her a helping hand. 

Hosoek didn’t know how temperamental Yoongi was. With no information about him, he truly didn’t know where to start. Perhaps calling Jiminie would be best. Hoseok dried his hair and threw the towel into the laundry bin. 

He made his way down into the kitchen, seeing Zurie stir the chicken broth. He slid his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. She replied with a light ‘Hmm’. 

“Has the cat come out of the sofa yet?” Hoseok asked. 

Zurie shook her head, silky golden ears flopping with the movement. “Nope. He is still there. Sleeping though.”

Oh. 

“I’ll save a portion of it for him later on.” Zurie sets the table. “Let’s eat first.”

Dinner was silent today. No usual talks and kissing. No loud laughter and banging of tables. “Maybe you should call Jimin Hyung. He is a hybrid doctor.”

Hoseok sighed. “Yeah, I already shot him a text but he’s a busy man. Jiminie has yet to reply to me.” Zurie leaned over the table and ran a hand through Hoseok’s hair, trying her best to soothe him. “Would you like to go over to Y/N’s house? You seem too worried for her and I’m used to you going over when she gets sick.”

A laugh huffed out of Hoseok. “That shouldn’t be a good thing.”

Zurie smiled. “But it is normal in our relationship. Normal and good, because I know Y/N needs someone there for her. That girl is always acting strong, just like you. The both of you are as stubborn as rocks. Acting as if everything is okay when it truly isn’t.”

Hoseok tilted his head into her hands as she massaged his scalp. “How’d you know, darling?” His words started to slur. Her hands were skilful indeed. One would think he’s the hybrid instead. Honestly, Hoseok didn’t care as long as he got Zurie by his side, he’ll fight flames and the depths of the ocean. 

“That cat, Yoongi? He’s just scared right now. I can scent it on him. He’s scared, brought to a new environment in such a hurry. I scent tears and fear and a hint of hospital antiseptic on him.”

That new revelation had Hoseok shooting up. “Wait what? Hospital antiseptic?”

Zurie nodded. “He…” She hesitated. “He went through quite a lot. I can scent things that may lead to certain assumptions but, no, he hasn’t come out so - no we didn’t talk, Hoseok.”

Hoseok shut his mouth quickly. “Yes, yes. Of course.”

Yoongi did not sleep well. Not that he wasn’t used to it. When he was on the streets, he hardly slept at all. Staying up was no problem for him but after the whole situation of him finding you running a high fever in the middle of the night, he was exhausted. He stayed up the whole night, wiping you down and forcing medication down your throat in hopes that your fever would not spike so close to haunting him again. 

He was not well-versed in the human body and medications but he lived with humans enough to know what they should eat and what can help. But, none of his past owners has ever had a fever spike higher than 39.8°C. Your fever spiked so many times, higher than 41°C. Yoongi had never felt fear like that in his life - not even when he was running away from his past owners or rebelling from the facility.  

For the whole night, Yoongi did not dare leave your bedside, afraid that your fever would spike so much that you would pass. His heart clenched at the thought of you not being there - not being here, in this world. Only a few months, but Yoongi didn’t know if he could live without your presence in his life. And that revelation itself scared him.

He didn’t want to dissect that information - didn’t dare to. He didn’t want to know where this information may lead him. 

Dangerous, dangerous places. 

Yoogni stretched his limbs when his stomach got too hungry to ignore. Might as well explore the place, he thought. 

Yoongi walked around the levels of the house, investigating the nicks and cracks. He walked until his stomach no longer screamed for food and he headed back to the sofa. Just as he passed the kitchen, he caught a scent of Hoseok’s hybrid - Zurie. But catching her scent didn’t make him fast enough to react. 

“Finally up, are we?” 

A hiss fell from Yoongi’s maw as he jumped a few feet into the air. He landed with his haunches up and fur spiking. 

“Relax, I’m not an enemy. I’m not here to capture.” Zurie looked down at him. “Here, change out and let’s have a talk over soup. I’ll heat it up for ya’.”

Yoongi eyed the hybrid suspectingly as she placed a set of male - oh, his - clothes on the floor. Yoongi pulled the clothes with his maw to the back of the sofa. He heard the beep of the induction stove as he pulled on the shirt. God, even the underwear? Yoongi’s cheeks blushed and his ears flushed pink. Okay, okay, just… get on with it. He left his little ‘hiding spot’, cautiously walking into the kitchen. 

A bowl of hot soup was placed in front of him. “Have a seat. I saved some soup for you.” 

His tail wrapped around his waist as his ears pressed down. He couldn’t trust her. Not yet. He couldn’t trust anybody but himself right now. 

“How are you feeling?” Zuire asked. “I understand the need to be with her right now but she needs some space.” Zurie sat down opposite him. “Y/N has a tendency to constantly overwork herself but she knows her limits. Furthermore, she’s in good hands. Seokjin was a medic before he started his own company.” 

Yoongi picked up the spoon and dipped it into the steaming broth. He stuck his tongue out to taste it before putting the whole spoon in his mouth. The air was silent and uncomfortable but Yoongi didn’t want to speak.

He finished the bowl of soup in ten minutes, standing up to wash the bowl when Zurie said, “Please, Hoseok is worried. You could at least answer the ‘How are you feeling?’ question.” 

Yoongi sighed internally. He just wanted to change back and go to sleep. “I’m fine.” He replied. He hesitated before asking, “How’s - How’s Y/N?”

Zurie got up from her seat, hands grabbing the empty bowl and used utensil. “Not much difference from when you left. At least that’s what Seokjin told us.” 

Zurie looked at Yoongi. He may look as if he couldn’t care less for you but his eyes betrayed all possible emotions. “Y/N will be fine. Just don’t get yourself sick or we won’t hear the end of it from her.” Zurie left him in the kitchen, still sitting on the chair. Yoongi sighed and walked out, going back under the sofa but this time, dragging the clothes under with him as well. 

Yoongi woke to the banging of doors. Heavy, rushed footsteps came over to the sofa peering down and scooped him right up. 

“FOUND HIM! I FOUND HIM!”

Yoongi hissed. God, it was so bright and loud. Couldn’t they have the hint that he just wants to be left alone to sleep?  

“YO, BRO! WAKE UP!” Yoongi peeked open an eye. What the hell does he want? He hissed his dissatisfaction. Could people around here not get the hint to - PUT ME DOWN! 

"Quick, quick." Yoongi heard keys and buttons as Hoseok carried him. He was bouncing as Hoseok ran, shoving him into the back of the car and speeding away. 

Wait… Hey, hey, hey - Stop!

"Dude, stop meowing. We're going back to your home. Seokjin is in charge of Y/N, she'll be fine."

In-charge? What happened? 

"Seokjin says that it is best if you were to be back home. Y/N could use some moral support."

The drive back was stiff, air-charging with a type of anticipation that Yoongi never wished to feel. People call him ruthless, always hurting the people around him. But was he really? Could he be better than his reputation for you? 

Yoongi's whimper alerted the dog hybrid in the front seat. "Why don't you shift first? It might be easier for Y/N when you reach home." Zurie proposed, turning to the back and giving him a set of clothes. 

Yoongi didn't understand what was going on. Nobody was telling him anything. Granted, he didn't ask questions either. It's better if he just went home and saw for himself. 

The moment Hoseok parked his car in the parking lot of your apartment building, Yoongi sprinted for the lift, hastily pressing the buttons. A duffle bag was taken out of the trunk of Hoseok's car and he slung it over his shoulders, rushing to the opening of the lift doors. 

Jittery was not a word Yoongi used often. Not as often since he grew numb to caring for people. He learned that it would only bring him more pain and dig a deeper hole down his aching heart of hope. So Yoongi closed himself off, acting more on the instincts of his animal counterpart than a human would. 

The moment he stepped into the house, he could smell all sorts of scents. Some scents were more familiar than others but his aim - was you. Yoongi all but ran to the master bedroom, almost ripping the doors right off their hinges as he opened them. Oh and how he wishes he didn't.

You were lying there, limp and pale. So grey that Yoongi thought you might have died. He growled. You were not okay and they lied to him. You were shaking, spamming, whatever. 

He couldn't describe the horror he felt when he smelt the strong stench of body fluids. Your natural scent was covered with a bitter taste. You shook so hard on the bed - a seizure, Yoongi soon realised. You were having a seizure. His pupils contracted as he prepared to lunge for you, only to be held back by a pair of strong arms. 

"It is only a fever seizure." The strong arms captured him in, keeping him locked and frantic. "Fever seizures don't leave damage. Y/N will be fine." 

Yoongi fought against that hold, wiggling and growling. 

“Let him go Jimin-ah.” Hoseok told the male behind him. “He just needs to be close to Y/N. He won’t hurt her.”

The pair of strong arms released him only a second later and Yoongi ran that short distance to your bedside, caressing your hair. Yoongi whimpered at every tremble your body shook with. Covering your natural scent was the cold, sickly stench that clung to your skin like your shirt that clings to your cold sweat. Yoongi took the cold towel from the basin beside your bedside table, soaking it in the iced water before carefully dabbing it on your forehead. He then slowly started to move down your body, wiping you off. 

“I know he wouldn’t hurt her. I wouldn’t have let him off so easily if I knew that he was unstable. It is my duty as his doctor to figure that out.”

Yoongi threw the heavy quilt onto the ground and brought over the light blanket you bought him, putting that over you instead. 

The boys in the room stared at the continuously moving hybrid, shocked by the way he oh-so-carefully moved around you. Nobody would have thought that the rough, temperamental hybrid that they met a few hours ago would have such a side to him. 

Seeing that you were doing fine in the hands of your hybrid, the boys left the room. 

“Jimin-ah, I didn’t know that Yoongi was your patient. You didn’t say anything about the doctor-patient relationship when I called you a few hours ago.”

Jimin sighed and pressed onto the pressure point at the bridge of his nose. “I couldn’t and I still can’t. NDA, remember? Whatever goes on between the both of us is confidential.” Jimin moved over to sit on the sofa. “But I also didn’t know that Miss Y/N was your friend.”

Hoseok sighed and joined him on the couch, leaving Zurie and Seokjin to adventure towards the kitchen, both of them hungry for a late-night snack. 

“Yoongi is a rare breed of cat - mixed, but rare. It is due to the work of technology - the merging of DNA that is never meant to be mixed. He came from the black market ring.” 

Hoseok shifted. “Wait, you don’t mean - the black market ring? Right?”

Jimin sighed wearily, shaking his head as he responded. “I mean exactly that, Hobi.”

Hoseok’s mouth dropped open as his head shook frantically. “We’ve been trying to track them down for ages -”

“I know.” Jimin nodded. 

“Wait. That means that new information in the file -” Hoseok groaned. “Oh for goodness sake! They could’ve just said it!”

“Maybe they didn’t as Y/N ticked the ‘no’ on the confidentiality form.”

“Oh.”

Silence spread around the air as the two males in the living room sat and processed the information they were just bombarded with. Seokjin and Zurie came back with freshly cut fruits. 

“How about the both of you just let your brains take a break?” Seokjin placed the bowl of fruits on the coffee table. Zurie went over to sit on Hoseok’s lap and Seokjin took the loveseat opposite the couple and the painfully-missing-his-wife trio. 

They sat in silence with the occasional sound of cutlery clinking and chewing of the fruits. It was so silent that they all jumped a good five feet in the air when the doorbell rang. Seokjin ran over to the door and opened it, revealing - 

Zurie ran over, crashing into the lady holding multiple bags. “Ji-Hyun!” Zurie was nearly buzzing with excitement at this point in time and her darling husband was pouting on the sofa. Hoseok was laughing his body off and her husband sat there, cross-legged and crossed-arms with a very prominent pout on his lips. 

Ji-Hyun hugged Zurie back as much as she could before moving over to the dining table. “Seokjin told me to bring over food and extra medication when I come over.” She carefully separated the food from the bags and placed everything out. Seokjin moved over to help her. 

“Go on. I’ll just put these where they’re meant to be.” 

Ji-Hyun stood at the head of the table. “Maybe I should just stay to tease him more.” She laughed. 

Seokjin bellowed out laughter. “Yah, just go. His pout is going to stay even more permanent if you don’t.”

Ji-Hyun thanked him as she moved over to her kid-man of a husband. She fluffed his hair as she said, “Hello, darling.”

“Hello, darling.” Jimin mimicked her and Ji-Hyun kept her lips tight, trying hard to not laugh. After a few seconds, Jimin untangled his arms and wrapped them around her. Jimin sighed as he pulled her closer and snuggled into the fabric of her clothes. “Hello, mate.”

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Care For You

Summary - Ruben takes care of sick Reader

Enjoy!

You woke up to your body being sore and a pounding in your head. A loud pounding, that made you cover your ears with pillows.

"You okay?"

Somthing stirred beside you,  Ruben, turning around to face you.

"No." You groaned.

"Let me see."

You felt his hands search for you under the bed covers, they found your head but quickly withdrew.

"Shit, you're burning up."

"Yeah, I don't feel so good." You grunted.

Ruben peeled the covers from your body but you only crumbled with the cold sensation.

"Y/N, perhaps you should go see a doctor?"

"Yeah, I should probably go home." You said but did not move a muscle. You simply didn't have the strength to.

Ruben sat up in bed. "Don't worry I'll call for my doctor to come here." He got up and pulled the curtains.

"No Ruben please." You put up a hand in front of your face. "I don't want you to see me like this." The two of you had only gon out for two months and this had been your first time spending the night together. You did not feel comfortable showing Ruben all of you just yet.

"Y/N" He said, standing by the foot of the bed. "You probably have a fever. I'm not letting you leave without having somone check on you first."

"Fine." You sighed.

That morning was a blurr to you. As Ruben left for training he had a doctor come over and do a quick check up on you.

"As I suspected it seems like you have a slight case of the flu."

"The flu?" You frowned. "Is it contagious?" You thought of Ruben.

"It can be" The doctor said. "But considering you don't have an aggressive cough I would just recommend that you stay at home for a couple of days."

Just one problem, you thought. This was not your home but Rubens and you couldn't risk giving him the flu as well.

Once the doctor left you gathered all the strange you had to get out of bed. The last thing you remember was that you were gathering your things and got dressed. Things went dark after that.

"Y/N, are you okay? Y/N, can you hear me?"

"Ruben?" You struggle to open your eyes, but realized that you were lying on the floor. It was cold.

"Come here."

You felt a pair of strong arms cradled your body and soon you were lifted off the ground. Ruben chest was warm against the side of your face, his heartbeat calm and comforting.

"Please don't try to move." You heard Ruben say. He had carried you back to his bed, tucking you in between the sheets. He left you alone for a moment only to return minutes later with a tray of food.

"I think you should try to eat something." He caused a dip in the bed as he took a seat beside you, setting down the tray of food.

"Ruben." You sighed. "You shouldn't have to take care of me like this."

"Why not?" He frowned.

"Because..." You said, finding the strength to sit up in bed. "...We've barley gone out for two months, it's not like I'm your girlfriend. Besides, you could get sick as well."

Ruben shook his head and chuckled. "Fine." He said.

"Fine?" You frowned, confused to why Ruben stared at you with a slight grin on his face.

"Fine." He nodded. "You're are my girlfriend, can I take care of you now?"

"Ruben." You blushed.

"What?"

You admired the way his smile carved his jaw as he looked to the tray set front of you. He gathered food onto a spoon ready to feed it to you. You chuckled as he raised the spoon towards your lips.

"Just because I'm sick doesn't mean I'm suddenly a baby you know." You partened your lips, allowing him to feed you. A mixture of delicious spices invaded your mouth. Ruben smiled seeing you enjoy his cooking.

"Why are you so stubborn on letting people take care of you?" He asked.

"Because..." You shrugged, but let Ruben shove another spoonful into your mouth. "I know I can do it myself."

"Just because you can doesn't mean you have to."

"Why Ruben?" You chuckled. "Do you have a sudden urge to take care of me or something?"

He shrugged his shoulders, to your surprise.

"Oh."

He looked to you with eyes so sincere.

"Ruben I...I really don't know what to say.

"Maybe we can take care of each other?" He said. "Since your my girlfriend and all that." There was a dent in his cheek when he smiled. You bowed your face to hide yours.

"I'd like that." You nodded.

"Really?"

"Of course. Ruben I would love to be your girlfriend. "

He set down the spoon and pulled you closer by grabbing your chin.

You sighed against his lips "Ruben I'm sick."

"I don't care." He muttered.

[astroels]

Hope all is well :) can u pls do a ellie x hispanic gf

𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

a/n: sorry for this taking awhile, I've had a busy week!! hopefully this is okay!! thank you for the request love <33

Headcannons

~☆ During patrols together, Ellie loosens up on the way back to Jackson, which would lead to you trying to teach Ellie spanish. After embarrassing moments of Ellie mispronouncing everything, you both just laugh and enjoy the moment. "No, wait I can get it this time, te amo." Even if it was the simpliset thing, you were proud of her. "Y yo te amo mas, Ellie."

~☆ Since Ellie didn't know much spanish, it was so fun to tease her by saying sweet things without her knowing. She'd practically be begging you to tell her, but you wouldn't budge. She'd get the hang of it too quickly, and then you wouldn't be able to confess anything. While laying in bed, it's nice to say things to finally cool down from a rough day. "Eres mi persona favorita." Planting a kiss on Ellie's forehead while she asks what that means. You ignore her, of course and just cuddle up closer and fall asleep. Both of you at peace before waking up early.

~☆ Whenever Ellie gets sick, she gets sick. It's probably the worst week ever with fevers and vomiting. So in order to help her, You'd be making her soups, any possible type of caldos to soothe her body fluids. As she sits in the bathroom floor feeling helpless, due to her vommiting; You just reassure her with words and touches of circles on her back and holding her hair. "Te ves muy linda, mi vida, no te preocupes ." This was one of the only exceptions you made in translating and repating what you said in english.

~☆ Even with the apocalypse, your caretakers always taught you the importance of eating a good meal every now and then. You grew your own herbs to make spices or to trade for other varieties of spices. Since you had enough ingredients, you decided to make a somewhat meal that would open her to your childhood. 6 enchiladas to share with rice on the side. It was a solid meal, you'd say. Watching her take bites to study her expression, Ellie looked you in the eyes. "You don't know how much I love you right now." You laugh as Ellie plants kisses all over you, making the struggle of making her your meals so worth it.

~☆ Wanting to bring in diversity in culture to Jackson, You'd hold events weekly in the classrooms to teach Spanish to the kids. They were always so eager as you taught them pronounciations, grammar, and basic sentences. Without your knowledge, Ellie would go to watch you after her patrols in joy. She loved the way you bonded with the kids and the way you spoke, your sweet accent filling her ears. It made her fall in love with you all over again.

[slayonehundredninetytwo]

In the event you get a free moment for a mini fic,

Poor Channie gets food poisoning from some takeout he ordered and spends an evening hunched over a bucket, nauseous and burpy. Every now and then a bit of sick comes up his throat, but always goes back down which makes him feel sicker.

Maybe Felix stays with him, rubs his back, play with his curly hair, and talks to him in English to keep him calm when his nausea gets too much. Maybe Minho checks in every so often to see if he's been sick or is still queasy.

sorry this took so long, i didn’t have free moment for a mini fic 😅 it also kinda was more like a full length one anyway. Suprise!

~Spicing it Up~

Yet another late night spent working on music for the latest comeback, it was all Chan had grown to know. Which meant when his stomach growled at him angrily for food, he pulled out his phone and opened his door dash and clicked the place he usually gets from. But wait. He had that last night? Why not spice it up and try something new! He clicked off that restaurant and searched for something else. He found a small local takeout place and placed his order, before getting back to work.

-

Sometimes, spicing up your usual door dash is not the best idea, which Chan soon learned late that night once he returned to his dorm. It was maybe 1 AM, earlier than he usually would get home, but tonight he felt strangely uncomfortable after dinner in his office, and decided he could head home and finish up at the dorm. By the time he got there, he felt severely worse. His stomach was swirling annd full, he felt awful. He probably had over done it with the food, although he didn’t remember eating all that much of it. Must of just been extra filling. When he opened the door to the apartment, he was surprised to see Minho and Felix sitting on the couch.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“Well we were watching a movie with Jisung.” Minho said sounding a little annoyed.

“But he got tired and went to bed, so we’re finishing up the movie ourselves before we head home to our place.” Felix cut in, being the ball of sunshine he is, there was not a hint of annoyance in his voice, in contrast to Minho.

“Mind if I join? I was gonna do so work but i’m not feeling it tonight and you guys (A/N- the urge to put y’all😭) are here anyway.”

“Of course we don’t mind!” Minho said, patting the cushion next to him.

Chan melted into the couch, exhausted.

“You okay Chris?” Felix said to him, noticing how he curled in on himself.

“Yeah. My stomach hurts a bit.” He responded, wrapping his arm around his stomach.

“Have you eaten?” Felix said, concerned.

“Yes. I think that’s the problem.”

Minho was trying to translate the English, but eventually gave up and watched the movie.

“Did you eat too much? What did you eat?” Felix asked, seemingly turning on his big brother mode that he would use if Olivia wasn’t feeling well, even though he is younger than Chan.

“I tried a new place tonight. I don’t remember eating a lot of it, but I must have.”

“Or maybe the new place simply isn’t agreeing with you.”

“I guess.”

They sat and watched the movie in silence for a while, until the silence was finally broken by Chan, still speaking in English, much to Minho’s annoyance since he was experiencing some FOMO from barely understanding the conversation. Couldn’t they just speak Korean for his sake.

“I’m gonna vomit.”

Vomit… what does that mean again? He’s gonna what? Minho couldn’t quite recall. Minho figured it was not good, seeing Felix’s eyes widen as he hurriedly stood up and rushed to get something as Chan put his head between his knees. Minho put two and two together that his hyung was nauseous, and placed a hand on Chan’s back, just as Felix returned with a bucket.

“It going to be be a-okay, Chan. Don’t worry. It will be over before you know it.” Felix stated reassuringly as he gave Chan the bucket. Felix instructed Chan to sit up, just as he ducked his head into the bucket with a retch. Nothing. He just hung there over the bucket salivating into the bucket as he stared at the bottom. The next retch came with some liquid but it didn’t want to come all the way up. It burned his throat and made him gag more, still unproductively. Minho stood to get him some water and things, as Felix quietly comforted him, his accent reminded him of home which helped him feel a little less miserable as the nausea was so very awful.

It took almost an hour for anything to really come up. And once it did, it brought up everything Chan had in him. It tore through him painfully, but once it was done, it was a huge relief. He could finally breathe. The nausea was becoming insufferable, he was just glad it was over, for now atleast.

“You did good, Chan” Minho said, in English, as he handed him the water bottle.

🫶

[thelampisaflashlight]

Maybe Add a Little Salt

[Today, you get some angsty Brother Elijah lore, via someone left unknown until now. Discussions of grief, mentions of death of a parent, and hinted neglect. Not suitable for younger audiences.] Below the cut.

How do you make grief digestable?

In what way must you spin a tale of loss so that others don't shy away from it, out of pity or digust?

Do you break it into pieces like stale bread?

Let it crumble into each thought and feeling like you're dragging it through the thick, complicated stew that is life?

Only feeding it to people when you know they can handle it, hoping that they won't spit it back in your face when you're at your most vulnerable?

To admit to grief, is to put a new spice in the broth and hope someone doesn't complain about the taste.

Do you compare it to a meal? To food?

Taking the metaphor further, dragging it out in hopes that it will not be misconstrued?

To Ethan, grief is an inedible thing.

There is no stale bread to be softened for consumption.

It is something he has to choke down, for fear that someone might see his discomfort and judge him for it.

Grief is not something to swallowed.

But nevertheless; It sits in his throat.

Leaving his stomach empty.

And his heart full of worries.

Ethan has never believed in God, even as a child, he was dubious.

Still, he attended church on Sundays, sat between his mother and his grandmother while his father took his older siblings out to breakfast.

When they'd get home, he wouldn't eat until lunch.

And he would sit quietly, play with his toys, and try not to get in the way.

Sometimes, his grandmother would invite him to her house, and she would make him cold cheese sandwiches, cut into animal shapes using cookie cutters, and make little marshmallow bunnies for him to eat.

On her good days, his mother would join them.

She'd sit with his grandmother and him in a peaceful silence around the small table in her kitchen.

Just the three of them.

Cozy and warm.

And he'd feel full.

Then they'd go home.

It was always hard, leaving his grandmother's house.

Coming back to their own.

The clutter, the mess.

It only ever seemed to get worse the sicker his mother got, and try as he might, Ethan could only do so much.

After all, his hands had been so little then, and he could barely see over the top of the stove.

He thinks about that a lot.

Too much maybe.

The hopelessness of being so small, of wanting to help, but not being able to.

And then...

And then, well, he couldn't help her even if he wanted to.

He remembers her funeral feeling... short, and unceremonious.

He thinks about that a lot, too.

And it brings him back to his thoughts about God.

About how God only seemed to exist inside the walls of the church, and not in the walls of his own home.

About how his mind had supplied so darkly as a child, in response to being told, "You will all be reunited in Heaven some day." that he'd better hurry up and die already.

About how he carried that sentiment with him for years.

And about how he's somehow still hear over a decade later.

So if you asked Ethan about grief, and about God.

He'd probably tell you neither tastes good, but...

"Maybe add a little salt."

.

.

.

Ethan wishes the day he left home, that things had played out like they do in the movies.

A heartfelt goodbye or even a "So, you're really going through with this?" conversation.

But his house is dark, and his family is asleep.

They know he's leaving.

They do not care.

The only acknowledgement he receives is the porchlight turning off the moment he steps foot inside of the car that's going to take him to the airport.

Where is he going?

Honestly, even he's not sure.

He's half certain he's headed towards disaster, towards death.

But he can't bring himself to be particularly frightened.

He'd received a letter.

Snailmail.

Handwritten.

And what he read inside, he couldn't bring himself to believe.

It was had to be some kind of sick prank.

But it was enough motivation to get himself up out of bed in the middle of the night.

Because, really, what did he have to lose?

His life?

Ethan almost regrets it when he gets on the plane.

He's never flown before, and his stomach does little flips the whole way there.

A mix of anxiety and motion sickness that he braves sandwiched between a crying toddler and a middle aged man who keeps giving him a look that says, "I know what you are."

But, nauseous as he is, Ethan can't bring himself to give a damn.

When the plane lands, it takes all of his strength not to collapse onto the ground and kiss it.

He's never fucking flying again.

Not if he can help it.

"Right... Get your shit together."

Ethan isn't sure what an abbey is, beyond a big building for religious people to hang out, but if the letter he received is to be believed, it's where he'll meet someone important there.

Someone that bothered to write a two page letter expressing their desire to meet him.

Sure.

Sure, why not?

Fuck it.

Fuck it, even if it's a joke, some prank or some scam, at least it'll be...

It'll be better than being stuck at home wasting away.

Again, what does he have to lose?

Standing on the stone steps, Ethan briefly considers just... leaving.

He can leave, right?

That's still an option.

But before he can really consider HOW to backtrack after coming this far, a man with a smile that seems far too kind to be genuine appears through one of the large, wooden doors in front of him.

"You must be Ethan." he greets, "I am-"

Ethan cuts him off.

"You're Elijah Crane."

The pair lock eyes.

"...You're my dad."

Elijah sighs softly.

"I am... and I'm sorry."

[kcrossvine-art]

Good morn/noon/evening/after-you-woke-up! Now, I want you to imagine we are in a beige and light oak dressed kitchen, theres a plastic bowl artfully place on the island you bump your toes and hips on, and in that plastic bowl is plastic fruit, and on that plastic fruit is a decades worth of dead skin dust built up. It smells like vanilla perfume from the dollar store. On the 32-inch TV screen PBS is playing episodes of the coming of age drama 'Arthur'. We're cooking 'Stones Inna Swamp' from the Redwall Cookbook- And now a word from us kids…

(You can find the original recipe at the bottom if you’d like to follow along)-

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Stones Inna Swamp?” YOU MIGHT ASKWELL for ya soup base-

White beans

Kidney beans

Vegetable oil

Onion

Celery stalks

Garlic

Sliced mushrooms

Green bell peppers

Vegetable stock

Chopped tomatoes

Parsley

Paprika

Salt and pepper

Canned beans might work well if you dont want to soak overnight, just thoroughly rinse and dry them first. And for ya dumplin's-

Rolled oats

Breadcrumbs (preferably whole wheat)

Parsley

Margarine

Cheddar Cheese

Do be careful making these, the dish caked to the pan like ive never seen anything before.

AND, “what does Stones Inna Swamp taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

Its a, it feels like adult babyfood, almost?

The 'dumplings'- they taste like meatballs??

This recipe would probably taste better with Regular Meatballs but these are mice so its understandable

Theres less liquid at the end than the 'swamp' name would imply

Texture similar to a mash

Most flavor comes from the aromatic ingredients

Could deal with a bit more spice

The vegetables could also go for a nice sear or roast beforehand

Pairs well with a gelatin desert and sparkly water

The dish your white parent makes when they do something 'experimental'

. The dumplings dont have a measurement for the salt, I did what felt right and I'd say it came out to maybe ¼ cup salt? . Water measurement for dumplings is way way too little, do the tablespoons and then also half cup. . Where margarine called for, used butter

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

It gives off the air of when your children complain about taco tuesdays, but they cant cook for themselves and your partner refuses to learn, so you pick something out from pinterest that says "Healthy Veggie Sunday Dinner Done in 10 Minutes!". Its not bad in the traditional sense, its bad in the sense that it brings not much good. This may partially be a neurodivergent thing but the amount of soft textures just fucks with my brain.

I feel like I'm eating joker mush. The cheese is a nice touch though!

From start time to serving time, it took about 2 hours, but that could be cut down with experience. I would highly recommend either cooking the parsley dumplings separately and then adding per serving, or serving and eating immediately, because they Will get soggy and they Will fall apart over time.

 The flavor itself is very nice and savory, the more salt  you add the more itd taste like meat I think! As usual, please do feel free to add more spices than listed. I could see smoked paprika, cumin, and sautéd spinach going enhancing this a fair bit. I think if I were to make this in the future i would fry the dumplings before adding them in with the soup, to give it more texture and 'body'.

I give this recipe a wham-bam-ghost-you-ma'am of 3/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) And now back to our show...

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Bean Soup Ingredients:

1/2 cup dried white beans

1/2 cup dried kidney beans

4 teaspoons vegetable oil

1 1/2 cups (1 large) sliced onion

2 celery stalks, chopped

1 garlic clove, crushed

1 1/2 cups (4 ounces) sliced mushrooms

2 green bell peppers, seeded and chopped

1 cup vegetable stock (or 1 cup water and 1/2 cube vegetable bouillon)

1 can (14 ounces) chopped tomatoes

1 tablespoon chopped parsley

1 teaspoon paprika

Salt and pepper, to taste

Parsley Dumpling Ingredients:

1 cup rolled oats

1/2 cup breadcrumbs (preferably whole wheat)

2 teaspoons chopped parsley

1/4 cup margarine

1/2 cup grated Cheddar cheese

Soup Method:

To make the soup, soak the dried beans in water overnight.

Drain the soaked beans and transfer them to a large pot. Add water to cover and bring to a boil. Boil the beans for 15 minutes, then reduce the heat and simmer until the beans are completely cooked, 40 to 50 minutes more. Drain.

In a large, preferably nonstick frying pan over medium heat, warm the oil. Add the onion, celery and garlic and cook, stirring, for 5 minutes. Add the mushrooms and peppers and cook, stirring occasionally, for 3 more minutes.

Add the beans, stock, tomatoes, parsley and paprika. Season with salt and pepper.

Bring to a boil, cover partially, and simmer for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Dumplings Method:

To make the dumplings, stir together the oats, breadcrumbs, parsley and salt in a bowl. Add the margarine and rub it into the dry ingredients with your fingers until evenly distributed. Stir in 2 to 3 tablespoons of cold water, until the mixture just forms a dough.

Form the dough into twelve 1 '/2-inch round dumplings. Add the dumplings to the bean mixture and reduce the heat to low. Simmer, covered, turning the dumplings after 10 minutes, until they are cooked through, another 20 to 25 minutes.

Sprinkle with the grated cheese and serve.

[forasgaard]

Salvation

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

AO3

...

Part 5

"Norm's got sick"

Jake looked at me with a serious face and after a few seconds, I realised what he had said. Norm got infected! The humans weren't so sick, not like the Na'vi. But panic rose inside me.

"I have to go back!", I wanted to scooch by Jake but he grabbed my arm. "No!", he said clearly and I paused.

"He needs you here. Here in the village. You have to finish your research and develop a cure for this."

"But I-"

"Do you want them to die!?, Neytiri hissed at me. I looked at heir and thought of all those sick Na'vi. They were much more ill than Norm probably was. Jake was right, I had to finish my work. And if I went back to take care of him, more and more Na'vi would get sick. I had to find the right plant. I sighed. "All right"

"Thank you", Jake squeezed my arm slightly. "I talked with the lab. He is feeling relative good. As good as you can feel when you're sick. The people there will take care of him. But it is important for you to finish your duties."

I nodded.

"C'mon", Jake guided me back to the others. "We brought some food."

We all sat down outside on the glade and make a small campfire. Jake, Neytiri and Neteyam had caught some fish, which was flavoured now with some spices. Spider and I were allowed to join. And it feld like massive honor for me. The fish was amazingly delicious but I couldn't really concentrate on eating. I had to think of Norm.

After the meal, Jake and Neytiri went to see after Mo'at.

Tuk suddenly pointed at Neteyams bandage. "How long do you have to wear this?" The boy looked at me. "Err.."

Questioning he looked at me.

"I will take a look at it if you want to."

I sat down next to him. The bandage looked good. Still clean, so sight of bleeding through. Carefully, I took it off and suddenly I noticed the small distance between us. Heat rushed inside me and I recognised how handsome he actually was. He was slim but muscular at the same time. Like an athlete or a runner. Probably from all his training and archery. I looked up and saw that he scanned my face. He blinked a few times when our eyes met and I gave him a small smile. He lowered his view. Suddenly I heard a chuckle behind me.

"As if you had never seen a girl before, Nete!", Lo'ak teased his older brother. Kiri started laughing.

"Shut up, Skxawng!", Neteyam hissed and avoided my eyes.

To distract him, I pointed at his wound. It had started to heal. "It looks fine. The bandage can stay off. But you should watch out to keep it clean and in a few days I can remove the stiching."

Neteyam slightly bowed his head and his ears twitched back. "Thank you"

...

The next days, I passed time with studying and analysing the samples from the plants. I even slept in one of those hammocks last night. Spider had shown me how to get up there.

Neteyam and I had collected more samples in the night. He was just as quiet as the nights before. I tried to ignore it and start a conversation but he kept his mouth shut.

At the glade, under the hammock-tree, I had built up a small temporary lab. Norm had send me all the equipment I needed.

I just cut a leaf and put it under the portable microscope, which worked via photovoltaic, when I heard familiar voices. I looked up. The Sully Kids came over the glade toward me. Spider was with them as well. I got up and waved my hand.

"Morning! Did you sleep well in your cozy hammock?", Spider teased.

Lo'ak chuckled. I rolled my eyes but smiled. "It was actually pretty cozy.", I admitted.

Kiri pointed at my equipment. "Have you found something?"

I shook my had. "No, not yet. None of the plants had the right protein. I am aittle afraid that we won't find a plant that does."

"Don't worry.", Neteyam said. "We still have plenty of plants left." His words made me feel more calm.

"Do you have much work left?" Lo'ak asked with a mysterious voice. "We had an idea. I mean, how can you live with the Omatikaya people and only see the village?"

"He have a surprise for you! We're gonna show you the tree of souls!", Spider blurted out.

Lo'ak pushed at his shoulder. "Bro! I wanted to tell her that!"

"You should have hurried!" Spider made a grimace and Lo'ak hissed at him.

"Boys!", Kiri rolled her eyes. I wondered about their way of talking. I didn't thought they would use modern human words. But that was probably Jakes influence.

Lo'ak was most similar to him. Not only because he looked like an Avatar, just like Jake did. His whole attitude was similar. Neteyam reminded me more of Neytiri. Tuk as well, and Kiri was something else. She always had her head in the clouds, like she was somewhere else. Sometimes I saw her just sitting ther ein the grass, staring at the nature around her. I knew she had a special connection to Eywa and a greater sense for the balance between nature and Na'vi.

"The tree of souls!?", I gasped. I had seen thousand of pictures from it. But I've never seen it in person. The famous tree was a bit away from the village and layed under circular rocks.

"When do you wanna go?", I asked.

They grinned. "We have another surprise", Kiri said. I raised my eyebrows in astonishment. What else?

"We should get you some proper clothes.", she smiled. And I looked down onto my big human clothes that were specially designed for Avatar bodies. "Do I have to?" I kinda liked my clothes. And I wasn't one of them. I couldn't run around in Na'vi clothes.

"Yeah, come on!"

They dragged me through the village. "Does Jake know this?", I asked around. Lo'ak shrugged. "Dad doesn't know. And if, he probably wouldn't care."

"Uh hu" Sure, I thought. If he said so.

We went through the jungle. Neteyam hasn't said a single word yet, he walked behind me and I slowed down. I was wondering if he was angry with me for cutting off that plant.

When I walked next to him, I said:

"Hey are you angry or something? Because of the plants? You seemed so reserved last night." He looked at me surprised.

"I was just tired. Dad's training is really intense sometimes. And yes, I don't like cutting the plants. But when we heal the people with this, it will not be out of balance."

Ich felt relieved. I didn't understand the last sentence but at least he wasn't angry. "Okay good" I smiled at him from the side and he grinned slightly. Then I walked into Kiri. "We're here!"

They gave me Na'vi clothes: a loincloth and something like a weaved top. Tuk gave me a selfmade necklace. I disappeared behind a tree and put them on. It felt a little bit weird, I was almost naked but everybody walked around like that, I thought.

When I came back to them, Kiri smiled from one ear to another. "You look amazing! Just like one of us!", she said. She took my hand and swirled me around in a circle.

My tail twitched from excitement. I felt weird but somehow also very secure and safe around them. Like I were finally a part of them.

From the corners of my eyes, I could see Neteyam scanning my body and heat rose inside me. I stopped spinning. Spider grinned and pointed at my shoes. "These too"

I took them off with a sigh and walked barefoot. I took a few steps and suddenly it was like my mind and awareness expanded.

I felt the soft grass between my toes and the stable ground under my feet. A soft breeze touched my stomach and the sun painted patterns on my blue skin. I truly felt like I was one of them. Like I belonged here.

...

The tree of souls wasn't far away. We ran through the jungle, between hills and giant roots and up into the treetops. The branches were so gigantic that we could easily walk on them and jump from one tree to another. I struggled a bit to catch up with me new friends, even with Spider. But they waited patiently when I fell back.

I ran over thick the moss of a huge branch and l let out a laugh. Running was so fun! I never felt so light and athletic before. I jumped over mushrooms and ferns and spinned myself around. Above us was a leaf canopy and deep down smaller trees.

I could see the circular rocks from afar, which covered the tree of souls.

It was so beautiful that I didn't watched where I was going. I made the next step and suddenly my foot slipped. I moved my arms to banalce myself, underneath me the sky and thousands of feets below, the treetops.

Suddenly, someone grabbed my wrist. Neteyam! He pulled me back in the middle of the branch.

"Mawey! (be calm)"

The others stopped and turned around. "What happened? Are you okay?", Spider asked. I shook my head, still shocked. I almost fell down the tree! I almost died! I took a deep breath.

"Skxawng!", Lo'ak laughed to calm me down. Kiri pulled at his braids. That's not funny!"

"Argh! Damn! I know, it was just to ease up the situation okay!?"

Kiri rolled her eyes and Tuk kicked him in the shin.

"Hey! Alright I am sorry Eva"

"It's alright." I said but my voice sounded weak.

"Wanna keep going?", Neteyam asked. I nodded.

We continued our way and this time, I didn't take my eyes from the ground. I would go a single inch closer to the edge of the branch.

Suddenly, Neteyam walked next to me. "You're really okay?"

I forced myself to smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just should've been more cautious." I laughed slightly embarrassed.

He smirked. "You have to use your tail more. It's not decoration, you know"

I furrowed my brows and looked at him. He grinned. "It helps you balance. You can counteract with it."

He made a few steps in front of me and made some weird figures while standing on one leg.

"You see?"

When he moved to the left, he placed his tail in the other direction. It looked so silly that I had to laugh.

"Oh I am so sorry! But thank you"

He stopped and joined my laughing. "You're welcome. "

His smile was warm and I felt suddenly really comfortable with him. Neteyam nodded with his head to the others, who were already further down the tree. "C'mon let's catch up with them!", he said and we started running.

~ I am so sorry that Jake and Neytiri aren't that much present in this fanfic. I truly love them both but for this story, they are just not relevant. ~

[khazadspoon]

Ok, here is some Big Boss is the MRE guy. Not much at the moment, more just an exploration of the AU generally speaking. But it’s fun to explore so have it anyway.

———

“Kept you waiting, huh?”

He smiled into the camera, adjusted the angle with one hand as he scratched idly at the back of his neck with the other.

“Sorry, I had some technical issues getting things set up. But it all looks green now.”

Messages started coming in, regular watchers and subscribers greeting each other with snake and frog emojis, some sending little saluting faces and “hi Boss”es. He did a mock salute and settled back in the chair a little.

John still felt a bit nervous starting a stream. It was the same if he started filming a video, or talked to a stranger, even when answering the phone. But there was still the little thrill at being adored and looked up to. He enjoyed it despite the nerves.

“So today will mostly be a questions and answer thing, I know there are some new people joining us so be polite. Later we’ll probably take a look at a mid nineties British ration pack but that’s only if we have time.”

The moderators started putting rules into the chat box and John cracked his knuckles. “Okay. Who’s first.”

The questions started coming in.

Who’s your favourite Spice Girl?

Where did you grow up?

How did you lose your eye?

What’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten?

Do you ever get sick from eating so many weird things?

He couldn’t help chuckling at the range. There were always people asking silly questions, sometimes in jest but sometimes completely seriously, and he liked that; it was good, fun even, to be asked things that weren’t serious all the time. He had enough of that from his psychiatrist.

“I don’t know about the Spice Girls but I’ll say… Mel C. She seems pretty fun. I grew up all over, didn’t have a stable home, kind of an unusual family situation. But that’s a whole other story for another time.” He swallowed, rubbed at the eyepatch, and felt himself tense up. “The, uh, the eye was- not a good day if I’m honest. Let’s just say I was shot during a mission. Not sure I can legally go into the details anyway, confidentiality and all that.”

There were some apology messages and a few goading him on, the latter told in no uncertain terms to shut up by the mods if they wanted to stay. John rallied himself and got back to his answers.

“Food is a hard one to answer. Instant noodles are great, and some of the rations I had back when I was in active service were pretty tasty. But when there was nothing in my pack I think the King Cobra was pretty far up there. That or Russian glow caps… now they really recharge your batteries.”

A slew of snake emojis flew in, interspersed with questions and a few anecdotes from people who had similar experiences.

The next hour went by quickly. John answered more questions before taking out the British ration pack he’d bought a few weeks before. The calm control of talking about something he knew well took over. He described the packaging, the history behind its use, how to prepare it and what it tasted like; he told his viewers how he had known a British Major years ago, a man who was stereotypically obsessed with James Bond. It went well, overall. He noted a few usernames down after, people who were definitely veterans like himself, and made sure to keep an eye out for them if they came back.

He couldn’t quite remember how he’d first gotten into this life, couldn’t pinpoint the moment he went from ex-army who bought stuff online to showing other people the stuff to filming himself showing that stuff. It had just… happened. Eva had encouraged him both her and Adam saying the internet would “gobble him up”. Dr. Clark had been supportive too, offering her expertise to help him find rare specimens and letting him know if something was safe or not. And apart from the time he’d given himself food poisoning by ignoring her advice it had gone well.

She’d probably call him later and mock him about the mushrooms again. That was alright, they’d not had a proper conversation for a while.

Next door he heard laughter, the shutting of a door. A new neighbour again. There had been a few over the past ten years. He’d told Adam the place was empty but the man was happy drifting between the US and Russia when the mood struck him. There were plenty of places for him to stay, and John’s spare room was always free.

Outside he heard muffled voices, a man’s thanking someone and a “hear, take my card” before the door shut again.

His therapist had told him meeting new people was good for him, that it would help him relearn his social skills in public settings. He tried, introducing himself to people who got into conversation with him, and told himself he would go over in the next few days to say hello. Eventually, anyway, even if it took a few weeks to get round to.

The alarm on his watch beeped at him. He stood, walked to the small bathroom he kept meticulously clean, and took his pain medication. He stripped off his shirt and did his evening workout routine, his stretches, the massage he had been told to do on his arms and legs. He made dinner and watched an old movie. He went to bed, listening to the sound of someone next door getting used to a new environment.

Another day done.

[wainwrightjakobshammerlock]

Ok nvm I know neow :3

Blorbolands:

Hammerwright: Unholy concoction of tea, whiskey, sugar, several spices & syrups, lemon, smoked salt and aged gunpowder. Occasionally also with a few droplets of his own blood for that unparalleled mutagenic flavor and a taste of vitae (even though it doesn't need it as an amalgam, due to the haemogenic feedback loops and whatnot)

Lazarus: Shortbread cookies. Sweet, but not too sweet, so it's harder to get sick of eating a lot of them

Rebekah: Homemade marshmallows. You BET that heirloom 300 yr old Jakobs family cookbook has more recipes for them than legendary weapons in BL3 (since. Y'know. *Marsh*mallows. Look it up)

Samuel: The stuff they put in corrosive barrels

Val: Would rather fast than have a nice treat, since they think that corrupts the body. They still love a nice skag dog though, reminds them of home

Ikari: The sorrow of a dying monarch. Wouldn't say no to a pack of spicy almonds though

Douglas: Beef jerky. Or the nutrients contained in the bone marrow of someone who is deceased but not yet completely rotted, either works

Hestia: Toffee peanuts

TTP:

Windward: He's sampled so many exotic foods and wines but the one snack he buys semi-regularly is thumbprint cookies. Pairs great with both tea and coffee since he doesn't add any sugar to either of them

Poirot: Rose flavor doughnuts. Actually, any doughnuts, but those especially. He goes absolutely insane over those

Thuil: Stuffed isopod, but isn't above some good ol' fish gel if pe can't be bothered go to a fancy restaurant (which isn't super uncommon)

Ursula: Rhubarb jam, the super-dense kind. Just eats it right out of the container with her bare paws

Rosa: Whatever the TTP equivalent of turkish delights is called (since yknow. It's a fantasy world where Turkey doesn't exist.)

Alicia: Caramels, especially the ones with weirder flavors/textures (IRL there's so many ways to make sweet substances of extremely varied flavors and textures just out of sugar, milk and butter - it's all dependent on ratios, temperature and cooking time. Just imagine what widespread use of pyro- and cryomantic magitech would enable in this department)

Isaac: Snack mix, the nuts-and-raisins kind

Nmili: Sea lumps (bits of whatever meat's left after butchering the lots of sea creatures R'ylehians cultivate or fish up, coated in wheat-allergy-safe dough and fried. It's a cheap street food and might give you food poisoning but we all know how good street food is so it's worth it. Thank the Eye it hasn't been gentrified yet). Also great for feeding your pet dragon

Tobias: He's a smuggler lord, he's long since transcended snack and now is firmly in imbibing illegal substances for fun town. He does regularly steal from Ithl's chocolate stash though

Pamela: Citrus pie. Probably the tastiest way to fend off scurvy

I either can't think of anything else for the other ones, they're a WIP or they just can't eat </3

Favourite treat of your oc's or hc's and WHY! *holds u at gunpoint :3*

Treat???????????? Treat? I'm sorry pls don't shoot me I do not know what u mean by this 😔

[voidcat]

– armed detective agency taking care of you when you're sick

a/n: self indulgent drabble lol... legit wrote this with a fever + headache while tired so there may b typos etc idk

yosano akiko: asseses your situation, pinpoints what it is you're suffering from and gives you the most effective, appropirate medicine, makes sure you rest and stay hydrated. do you need to stay tucked in bed and sweat? she'll make sure of it. do you need help getting up? don't worry she's got it covered, just say whatever you need. she'll order a good old hot chicken broth soup (or something similar to it) with spices and lemon. recovery in record time, probably the quickest and most comfortable you've healed, ever. her medical experience shows through her treatment but she makes sure to check you emotionally and support you.

kunikida doppo: similar to yosano but he fusses over it a bit more... keeping count of which medication you took down to its very second. he'll worry at first but keep his emotions in check in no time and go with a logical approach. anything you want, he will make it, cook it, help you drink or eat it if he must. he might be a bit too stern about use things such as painkillers, antibiotics etc... checking what kind of reaction what medicine might have with the other, spending time to pick the safest option for you.

miyazawa kenji: less fussing and more smiles. it's a mix of natural remedies and a modern approach. so let's say you have a fever, he'll prepare a vinegar soaked washcloth to your forehead, if your throat hurts, he will mix turmeric and honey, brew you tea and prepare a family recipe that'll mix you up in no time! (he might dial up the agency before going with some of his more natural remedies if some of them didn't produce the best of results the last time though)

fukuzawa yukichi: he will be worried at first, but gather himself and making sure you're tucked safely in the confienements of your bed (after a good bath and change of clothes), he will rush out to get what's best for your situation. ask yosano, or the clerk at the pharmacist if needed... he might, lose track of time and return a bit later than planned, only to see you've long fallen asleep though. stay by your side for as long as he can, run his hand over your skin or hair to soothe you whenever you are awake and suffering from a headache, probably end up as a human pillow at some point.

ranpo edogawa: he most likely got sick right before you did... (okay joke aside he'll probably appear as nonchalant but dial up fukuzawa and ask the agency for help, then seat himself next to you in bed snacking as you take whatever medicine, tea or soup they provided you. he is more of a moral support if anything... even though he'll complain the whole time about how your plans for the day together are now ruined and you've left him all alone

dazai osamu: probably the most useless out of them all (along with atsushi) similar to ranpo, he will have someone else do all the work (buying medicine, cooking etc), toss around and be all dramatic when there is no response from you because you've fallen asleep. might go as far as to go all out and act around as if you're dying (that's how he got the agency members over to your place with anything useful they could think of– be it a first aid kit and all) but despite all the dramatics, like fukuzawa, he will stay by your side– you may end up as the human pillow though, or both of you falling asleep on one another and waking up in uncomfortable positions, limbs hurting and all.

nakajima atsushi: spend a good portion of his time worrying and fussing over you for sure. dramatic, but it is all about you. he will call the first person he can think of for help, asking what he should do and shouldn't. he might try to cook something with whatever ingredients he got at hand, it's purely luck whether it'll taste good or not (he might've added in sugar instead of salt, don't make that face now) with the arrival of help, he might stand back and watch, but asking every five minutes or so how you are feeling, is your headache gone, what is it you need, oh wait let me stack up pillows for your back– at the end of the day, he'll exhaust himself as well and fall asleep next to you, making sure your position is comfortable.

[coralinnii]

Jade Leech (cannibal!Jade x partner!Reader)

genre: horror, romance? 

note: cannibalism both knowing and unknowing, allusion to violence and worse

summary: Your husband was always experimenting with every dish he made but he smiles when you take a bite each time so you think it’s no big deal. Afterall, what’s the worst to come of it? 

series index

“Are you sure you don’t want me to cook tonight?” 

Your kind offer was declined as Jade shook his head, grateful but deemed not needed. Your husband just came back from a long job from his family-owned business and you didn’t want to stress out your already busy lover. 

“I appreciate the gesture, my dear. But, it’s a joy for me to provide and cook for my beloved” Jade smiled at you before gently laying a kiss on your forehead. “Now, it’ll be an hour or so to prepare dinner so please be patient” 

You seemed pensive but chose not to disagree with the ocean-haired man, so you settled with finishing up any chores left to do in the house. You’ve learned that nothing will stop Jade’s interest in cooking. 

As you learned even before the two of you moved together, Jade had a great passion for experimenting with his culinary skills, often testing with the new ingredients he brings home from his work with his family. With the assortment of meats, spices, and mushrooms, you once asked what exactly he and his brother do in their company to get a hold of such seemingly rare items. 

“Ah, we’re a simple distribution and delivery company. On occasion, we’ve dealt with some negotiations and clean-up requests with a few groups” 

You didn’t question further because that honestly sounds like a lot of complicated know-hows that an outsider like you wouldn’t understand right away. You could also tell that Jade was tight-lipped about his work, you assume there were sensitive information he must deal with. But, you at least understand how important and delicate his work must be as one single mistake could be dangerous. 

Like the time you fell sick after eating a meat dish he prepared with the ingredients he brought home. 

On what was supposed to be a typical dinner for two, you felt nauseous from eating and found yourself with a deadly fever that left you bedridden for a good while. Jade was by your side with shock and barely contained rage as he called his family doctor to check on you at your shared home. 

In your unstable daze during this sick period, you thought you heard your husband speaking with his brother about “bad intel” and “removing the mistake in our ranks” 

You didn’t blame anyone and you trust Jade would never intentionally harm you. It was an honest, unfortunate accident. 

Still, you can see the worry in Jade’s eyes whenever he treats you to a meat dish, which was probably something you were going to have tonight with the new package he brought back. 

When the table is set and dinner is served, Jade presents you with an absolutely delicious sight of a dish. Jade knew how to make a presentation. 

You proceeded with a long slice along the meat, smooth and soft which meant the meat was tender and still juicy. The meat never seems to resemble anything you’ve seen served in other restaurants but Jade assured you long ago that it was addictive and you had to agree. 

You took a bite of the meat, a little anxious and even if he didn’t show it, the furrowed brows on your husband hinted to you that he was a little worried himself. You scrunch your brows as you take careful chews, making a show of your final judgment towards Jade, before finally smiling brightly. 

“It’s delicious, love” 

Jade’s eyebrows relaxed as he let out a chuckle of your teasing. He took up his own knife and fork to indulge in his own dish, occasionally chatting and laughing over your day. 

Jade was smitten with you, always so bright and optimistic. He was happy to find someone like you who trusts him completely with their lives. You were so adorably naive, never questioning too deeply into his work, or the meats and “spices” he brings to your shared home. Behind his practiced smile, he’s absolutely gleeful over his domestic life with you, getting to share your laughs, your worries, your passions,

And the indulgence of a fresh kill.

[harlowsbby]

Pumpkin patches Galore🧡🎃

You loved the fall season so much it was one of your favorite seasons, you just loved how much prettier everything looked you loved the taste of anything and everything pumpkin spiced flavored and all of the fall decor had you ready to go broke.

Urban and You decided to take Phoenix to his first ever pumpkin patch you were beyond excited to dress him up in a cute sweater and take millions of pictures of him at the pumpkin patch.

You put Phoenix in long white t-shirt with overalls with his checkered vans to match and you were gushing at how cute he looked.

“Mommy where are we going?” Phoenix asked for what seemed like the millionth time today, you guys were a good ten minute away from the pumpkin patch.

“We’ll be there in ten minutes baby don’t worry.”

“Babe please don’t cry when I start taking pictures of Phoenix next to the pumpkins.” You pushed Urban slightly and rolled your eyes.

“I can’t help it he is my only baby and these are all big moments to me Urb.” You were a bit well very extra sensitive at anything Phoenix did just a week ago he learned how to use a camera and you started crying hysterically which caused Urban and Phoenix to look at you like you had two heads.

“Are we there yet daddy?”

“Yep we just got here bubs you ready to play some games and win prizes?” Phoenix nodded his head quickly and practically dashed out of his car seat.

After Urban got the tokens needed for the rides and games all three of you set out to figure out we’re you wanted to start first.

“You wanna play some games first or ride some rides?” You asked Phoenix he tapped his chin with his finger trying to decide what to do first, he turned around in circles inspecting everything before his eyes landed on the fun house.

“Let’s go on that one mommy and daddy!!”

“Why is there so many mirrors in here mommy and why am I everywhere?” Phoenix asked as all three of you entered the fun house.

“Well they put all these mirrors and in here to try and trick you and they try and make it difficult for you to make it to the top where the slide is, you have to be careful to not run into any mirrors.”

“What happens if I run into a mirror mommy?”

“We-.” You were cut off by a loud smack the both of you looked up seeing Urban now rubbing his red forehead.

“You’ll end up like daddy.” Phoenix erupted in a fit of giggles seeing Urban’s forehead completely red from running into the glass.

“Let’s get out of here yeah? We can go carve some pumpkins and eat some cotton candy. How does that sound?” His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree at the mention of cotton candy. After the three of you eventually made it out of the fun house you all went and carved pumpkins and ate some cotton candy and pizza.

You started to feel a bit sick probably due to the weather changes and the lack of actual food.

“What should we do now mommy?”

“How about me and you go win mommy some prizes we’ll let mommy relax over here for a bit and finish her painting.” Urban kissed the top of your head before taking Phoenix to go play some games.

You smiled watching how Urban picked up Phoenix it chances of him making a basket at the basketball game. Eventually they came back with a bag filled with prizes.

“Mommy!! Mommy look I won you so many bears.”

“Oh you did?! I love them all so much thank you baby.” You coo’d and you couldn’t help but to let a few tears shed.

“Uh oh here comes the waterworks.” Urban mumbled but you whipped your head to the side and glared at him.

“Don’t be mean to mommy that’s not very nice daddy.” Phoenix said sassily making Urban throw his hands up in defense.

“Alright alright how about we go home and shower and watch some moves?”

“Sounds good too me.” You told him. Eventually you all got home Phoenix of course fell asleep on the car ride back.

“I think we should try for another one.” Urban asked while he shut Phoenix’s door.

“Another baby? You sure Urb.”

“I’m positive baby I want another baby.” You grinned and pulled him into you before smashing your lips onto his.

“Let’s get started.”

Tag list

@moody4world

@lcandothisallday

@babyharleezy

@heavyhitterheaux

[bucky-munson]

What’s Hidden in the Shadows | 7

Summary: Bullies are everywhere. They manifest as a group of jocks at school who think you're fat and want to make sure you know. Sometimes they even manifest as your own father. But can they manifest as the love of your life? No probably not.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Words: 1.2k

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Plus Sized!GN!Reader ; Steve Harrington X Plus Sized!GN!Reader

Warnings: MENTIONS OF DISORDERED EATING IN THIS ONE!! Bullying, abuse, swearing, mean ass Billy obv

a.n: Billy’s learning the consequences of his actions finally o3o

Taglist: @harringtonfan4 @jubilee40 @cevans-winchester​ @urmomgov

The smell of spices filled the air as you stirred away at the pan you had on the stove. It wouldn't be an elegant meal, but from the way Billy had his eyes on it intently you figured he didn't really care.

"What are you even using? I swear Susan's food never smells this good.." He mumbles, chin resting on your shoulder as he stares into the pan. It's oddly domestic with his hands draped on your sides and the gentle warmth from his chest against your back. He'd tried to kiss you even more in the bathroom but when his stomach let out an embarrassing growl, you forced him to let you cook him a proper meal.

"Secret ingredients.. Be nice to me and I might share them," you chuckle softly, moving out of his grasp to grab the meat you had chunked up before dropping it in with the veggies. They sizzle instantly and you're back to stirring, Billy's hands returning to their place almost immediately. Nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck he holds you tighter, enjoying the softness you provide. 

The scene is quiet other than the sounds of the plastic spoon against the pan, but inside you couldn't stop the constant monologue. It felt almost wrong to be here, in this moment, Billy Hargrove clinging to you like a doting husband. After the months of torment, all it took was a few soft words and you were wrapped around his finger like so many others? He hadn't even apologized for how he acted or the constant negative comments about your body. The body he was now so desperately holding. Words bubbled on the tip of your tongue. 

So was it all a lie? You never hated my body? You just got what? A sick kick out of making me hate myself more? You know, I still hear every comment you or those other assholes made in my head when I look at myself in the mirror. Why don't you ask me how many meals I skipp–

"Fuck I'm hungry, is it almost done?" He whines as he steps away, opening the door to the fridge and helping himself to one of your father's many beers. It snaps you out of the fight you were having internally and brings you back. A part of you wished you would just bring it up, get it over with like a bandaid, but a smaller part craved this peace; A momentary cease-fire in an ongoing war yes, but peace nonetheless. 

You can only watch as Billy takes his first bite apprehensively, but his face breaks out into a smile as he eats more comfortably. He motions for you to join him and you oblige, both of you chewing silently in the now too quiet trailer. The thoughts overpower you though and before you know it you're asking a question you're not even sure you want the answer to.

"Billy.. What was that.. in the bathroom I mean.." He looks up at you dumbfounded for a moment before responding.

"Uhm.. A kiss?"

"You know that's not what I mean.. First we're like mortal enemies and then secret friends and now what? Secret dating?" 

"Is that what you want?" His question stops you in your tracks and honestly, you hadn't thought of that. If he did want to continue this, what would you say? And what about Steve? 

"I.. Don't want to be kept a secret, I deserve more than that," you finally reply, feigning confidence but still mindlessly pushing around your food. 

"It'll just be until we graduate, and then we can leave this shithole town.. Maybe move to California? You'd love it there, babe, I'm sure, way more freedom and people aren't such hicks.." You sigh as he skips right over your feelings, almost exactly like you knew he would. 

"And what? Before then we just hide out at the lake on days when no one is there? I hide enough, Billy, at school, the pool, the mall.. I don't want to hide anymore," 

"I'm protecting you, don't you see that? I'm protecting both of us from whatever those assholes would do, they'd be relentless," he groans, slamming his fork down. "You have no idea how it would be if we were public."

"Steve Harrington asked me out in the middle of a packed cafeteria but Billy Hargrove is scared of what a few jocks will think?" There they go, the words you wanted to cling to more than anything, the one thing you had hoped to keep inside. You never wanted to bring up Steve in this discussion, but he was an inevitability so long as Billy wanted you for his own. 

"He what?" 

Any confidence you had fizzled with the icy cold stare in Billy's eyes. You could only stumble over your words as he stood in disbelief.

"So that's what this is.. King Steve asked you out? Is that where you were when I got here? I didn't expect you to be out but with Harrington no less?" The rage seemed to boil inside of him, his eyes darting around as he tried to put the pieces together, forcing them to fit a narrative he constructed. "You know, I didn't take you for a hit it and quit it type but if you agreed to go out with him–"

"I didn't do anything with him, Billy! Not that it's ANY of your business. I mean what did you say to me a few weeks ago? Oh wait I remember, "I wouldn't touch that with a twenty foot pole, probably would eat me"? And yet here you are, all over me like a fucking koala? What's the truth huh? At least Steve didn't tear me down for months just to show up at my doorstep. He isn't scared to tell me he cares about me in front of other people, you just hide behind your bullshit attitude and lackies cause you're scared to fall off your pedestal!" Tears are falling freely now, the anger too much to hold in. You'd be lying if you said his words didn't haunt you in every aspect of life. Ignoring them was easy when he hated you, you could pretend he didn't exist outside of school, but now with his presence an invasive species, they had nowhere to go.

"So what do you want me to do? Do you want me to parade you around town? Why do you want everyone to know anyway? So they can treat me like a prize you won? So you can be 'the one who tied down Billy Hargrove'?" Billy throws his hands in the air before running them through his hair, more arguing the last thing he wanted.

"I don't care about any of that, I just want to know that it matters to you how I feel. I won't let you use me like everyone else you've been with, a piece of ass or arm candy. I need to know, for certain, does everyone have to like you or am I enough?" A hush falls over both of you, your eyes on him and his on the floor. It was asking a lot of him, you knew that, telling him to throw out the reputation he spent the better part of a year building up, but it was impossible for him to ask you to hide in the shadows. 

[sukirichi]

closer | gojo satoru x reader

a/n: aaah my first ask and it’s a request! thanks so much this is so kind and sweet of you 🥺 and here it is! I’m not sure if it’s exactly what you wanted but I hope you like it anyway! 

summary: in which Gojo has the need to be closer to you after a long day of hard work

pairings: jealous! Gojo x reader

warnings: none, other than this isn’t proofread! (This is just a fluffy domestic short fic!)

masterlist ! 

The best part about being the strongest jujutsu sorcerer isn’t the power (although Gojo basks in that too) but rather the fact that he allows himself to completely tear his walls down and be putty in your hands once he comes home from work.

Gojo would never say it out loud that the best part of his days is waking up next to you, pressing kisses in your still sleepy face and you whining for five more minutes, then watching as you wobble like a penguin to the shower so you can start your day. Although he doesn’t really ask much from you, his heart still swells every time you make him a sandwich, kiss it and claim that it’s “made with love” before he proudly shows off his ‘breakfast’ of the day to his students.

Even in work, he still thinks of you. It’s quite impossible for this man to stop thinking of you; you and him never left that honeymoon phase even after two years of marriage and a much longer time of dating.

He could be exorcising a curse then get distracted afterwards after seeing an Italian restaurant that he just knows you’ll love. Next thing you know, Gojo flicks his wrist and exorcises the curse in a flash before hopping into that restaurant to look at the menu. Loving is knowing; Gojo takes the time to see if the restaurant would be respectful of your allergies every time before booking reservations.

It’s no secret that this man is completely enamoured with you, if his sappy good morning kisses accompanied with light, teasing touches down your legs is not an indication already. Gojo is confident and feels safe in your relationship and he’s never the type to get jealous because Gojo is Gojo – who else would be better than him for you?

Or at least that’s what he used to believe, until he comes home with a bag of pumpkin spice bread for you, arms wide open and a “Darling~” about to leave his lips when he sees your current predicament.

Nanami is leaning against one of the chairs in your cafe downstairs from your home, the usual stoic man’s lips and cheekbones slightly raised in laughter as you tell him something about your day. Gojo can’t exactly understand the worse falling from your lips because he’s too focused on the way you’re leaning forward, eyes absolutely crinkled into half-moons while you share a strawberry tart with him. Gojo sees the cups of tea have already been emptied, meaning Nanami has been here for a much longer time than he is welcomed.

Gojo clenches his jaw. He’s told you many times you should get a bell so you’d know when a customer comes in, but now he’s thankful you’re stubborn and refused to have one because he can hide in one of the propped up tables and chairs hidden in the darkness.

He can’t help the sigh he releases. He’s late – like he always is.

You’re a regular human who isn’t able to see curses. You’ve only ever known about their existence ever since you started dating Gojo, but other than that, you’re completely unaware of how these things work. It doesn’t bother Gojo. In fact, he quite likes that he can be just a regular man around you, and he basks in the comfort of not having to worry about your safety if ever you were also like him.

He met you when you were just still a barista who helped your boss bake from time to time. Gojo was only a student then who hopped from one cafe to another in search of the best delicacy, but he got more than what he bargained from when he met the fresh-faced and bubbly young woman standing behind the counter whose smile was sweeter than the most sugary dessert you’ve ever made.

As the two of you grew older, Gojo supported you in building your own cafe since you’re so passionate about it and it’s been your dream since childhood.

He still remembers how you’d spend hours in the kitchen trying out new ingredients, so much so that you forget to eat on most days. Gojo is left with the task of literally hauling your ass up upstairs and force you to shower with him. You lie that you’re not really tired, but the moment his skilled hands roll the tension out of your shoulders, a contented and grateful sigh paints those lips he loves to kiss.

One of the things Gojo loves doing with you is taste-testing. He’s not around the house most of the time when you work since he’s a busy man himself, but on the days he actively chooses to annoy Principal Yaga and go AWOL, he’d sit obediently on the counter and let you use him as your own taste experimenting dummy.

When night falls and you’re just about ready to head to bed; satisfied and proud of another day of hard work, Gojo comes home early to help you clean up the cafe and prop the furniture so you don’t overstrain your muscles.

Or at least, he wants to come home early to help you. It’s just that he often gets carried away on his missions and stays behind a lot longer than he’d like because the world of curses is extremely demanding. After seeing that you probably already lifted all these heavy chairs and cleaned up everything by yourself even when you’re tired, and you still have the ability to smile and laugh like that in Nanami’s presence when he should be the one on the receiving end, Gojo is unable to fight back the twisting feeling that pools in his stomach.

Forcing a huge grin on his face, Gojo loudly smacks the paper bag in the table between you and Nanami, his hands resting on the blond’s shoulder who only groans at his presence. “Yo!” He greets, winking when your eyes gleam brighter now that your husband is home.

There’s no trace or hint of anything that could indicate you’re upset with him because he didn’t come home early. Instead, you bow and excuse yourself while picking up your cups and the small plate where remnants of your signature tart had been, and Gojo watches with longing eyes as you disappear in the back room.

Now that you’re gone, Gojo drops in your seat, takes off his blindfold, and glares at Nanami. “Nanamin,” he drawls out. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here – getting chummy with my wife, no less.”

Gojo knows he’s being petty and childish. Of course he is. This is Nanamin we’re talking about; the man is as frigid and stone and he’s as interested in romantic relationships as much as he respects Gojo Satoru. Plus, it’s you, and you have eyes for Gojo and Gojo only, but it’s also Gojo Satoru who’s mixed in the formula, and he’s not the least bit ashamed that he’s being immature right now.

Of course he’s jealous. Of course he’s possessive.

You’re his sweet, little wife – of course he doesn’t like it.

As if reading his mind but couldn’t be bothered to deal with him, Nanami slides an envelope across the table. “Ijichi took a sick leave so he couldn’t give this to you. I was tasked to hand it over to you instead so I came around. It’s not my fault you come home late and your wife insisted I have a short meal before I came home,” Gojo opens his to retort something stupid when you emerge from the back, pretty face tired yet still patient as ever.

“Leaving already, Nanami?” You smile up at him, hand slipping through Gojo’s bigger and rough ones. He doesn’t know why the gesture leaves him stunned, especially when you step close enough that he feels your heat on this sudden cold night. He’s so entranced by everything about you he doesn’t even notice the blond bidding his farewell.

Gojo watches as you turn to face him, smaller hands reaching up to caress his face. Now that his blindfold is gone, his hair falls down to forehead, your dainty fingers brushing them away from his eyes so you could marvel in its beauty.

Like a little kid, he melts into a puddle when you do that exact eye-smile he’s seen you do with Nanami, only this time, it’s reserved, private, and intimate.

Gojo shuts his eyes in the process, nearly stumbling forward, which he doesn’t really let happen with anyone because he’s the Gojo Satoru; strongest jujutsu sorcerer. But you don’t mind, you never do, and if anything it only makes you laugh when he pretends to be deadweight by collapsing into the crook of your neck.

“What a big baby,” you tease with your hand rubbing up and down his back in a soothing motion, all the tiredness and exhaustion from his day disappearing into thin air.

“Yes,” he concedes as he follows you up the stairs where you both change into your pyjamas and settle in for the night. “But I’m your big baby.”

The nickname makes you laugh, head thrown back as giggles erupted in your chest. You’ve already removed your makeup, hair down from your work hairnet and flowing in loose waves. Gojo stifles a gasp then, because you’re in his arms, in his bed, smelling like him, and you’re so soft, so free, so vulnerable and the way you lean into his shoulders while he rubs his cheek on the crown of your head makes him feel like he’s falling in love all over again.

He’ll never get tired of this – of you.

The mere thought of seeing you with someone else that isn’t him doesn’t sit well with Gojo. Now he understands why he’s so jealous and immature – it’s because he hasn’t wanted anyone or anything as much as he loves you.

He can’t imagine a life where he’ll wake up to his mornings without your limbs sprawled across his longer ones, or how he may never hear your sleep talks about birds and butterflies; which is utterly ridiculous, but because it’s you, he finds it adorable. Sometimes Gojo wonders how he ever even lived before meeting, but of course, those were days filled with nothing but him doing weird stupid shit.

Not that he’s stopped doing that, but now at least he’s doing those weird stupid with you.

And he only ever wants to share those with you, so he doesn’t and will never allow anyone else to take what’s rightfully his. You’re his wife, the love of his life, the sunshine in his mornings and the sunset of his beautiful dusk.

He doesn’t care if he’s petty – he’s got every right to be jealous because Gojo Satoru never shares what’s his.

When his mind races back to the way you smile for Nanami again, his hold on you grows tighter. You don’t complain when Gojo suddenly presses his lips into yours, a breathy moan blessing his ears once he finally moves on top of you. Gojo runs his hand under your – his – shirt, letting those talented hands of his roam upon the expanse of his skin like an artwork he’ll never get tired of looking at.

“Missed you,” he mumbles in between the lip-locking, leaning closer when your nails start to scratch his scalp as a way to soothe him from the night. Nothing about the kiss is hurried or fervent; rather, it’s calm and steady, slow and passionate, much like how everything he feels for you is similar to a calm, rainy day where he’ll stay in with a hot cup of chocolate.

You’re home – warmth and comfort – and you know you’re his just as he knows he’s yours, but it doesn’t stop him from kissing you like he wants you to never forget that.

You shiver when Gojo’s fingers tickle your ribcage, that spot always having been sensitive. Your husband swipes his tongue over your lips that still tastes like strawberries from your lipbalm, and he groans, falling forward when you allow him access into your sweet, sweet mouth. Meanwhile, you travel down from his hair into those broad, strong shoulders that always seemed like a fortress to you.

Gojo was so big and strong compared to you. There’s no denying he could easily break you if he wanted to, but he’s nothing but gentle – perhaps a little eager – when he holds you like this.

There’s no memory of how you end up on top of his lap that night with the covers barely strewn across your bodies, Gojo’s back pressing into the bed frame that’s witnessed endless nights of passion. His hands then run over your hips, squeezing it a little too hard until you rut against his hips.

“Hmm,” you moan into his mouth at the friction, while Gojo only smirks at your reaction. Even after years, you’re still so sweet, sensitive, and responsive – he just can’t get enough of it. “Satoru,” the way you say his name is so breathy, almost as if it’s a secret only the two of you should know, so he listens intently at your next words. “You’re a little needy tonight. Did something happen?”

“No,” he lies, smiling to himself once he sees your lips are red and bruised. He’s sure he looks the same, but your eyes are glossed over with love that he can’t resist you pulling you to him as if the space offends him. He trails his lips down to your neck to leave red patches of marks that claims you as his – not that the gold wedding band on your fingers wasn’t doing the job already.

Like the good girl you are, you tilt your head and allow him to do as he pleases. He sucks, licks, kisses and nips at the skin, all the while careful to not hurt you or push you over to the edge since both of you are too tired for the day to ever do anything.

Your head drops to the crook of his neck then, arms wrapped around his shoulders loosely as if you trusted him to catch you whenever you fall – and you know he will. He always will.

Later on, you grow sleepy at the way he starts to pepper kisses into your skin that addictingly smells like cinnamon and vanilla all at the same time. Gojo chuckles to himself at how peaceful you look in that moment, draped over him like a tiny puppy who lives in a world too big for themselves, but that’s not true.

You’re bigger than the universe itself, larger than the vast galaxies he held beneath those eyes, and Gojo finally stops being jealous.

There’s no need to be, after all, not when he’s the one you trust wholeheartedly to tuck you in bed while your soft breathing lulls him into slumber as well. Gojo flicks the lamp off with his finger, not wasting another second before he scoots closer, closer, closer until there’s no more recollection of where you begin and where he ends.

He stands corrected in his statement.

He’ll never get tired of this, of you, for you’re bigger than the universe itself and there’s still a lot of space between the two of you that he can’t wait to cross until your worlds crash and burn.

“Next time,” he promises before kissing your eyelids, “I’ll come home earlier.”