#was drop shipped the ingredients and made some food

[spoilersbutinaccurate]

-The passage of time-

“Stay here and think about what you’ve done.”

(Click for better quality)

Got inspired by someone's idea. It’s not accurate or canon. But it’s interesting to explore so I wanted to try it out :D

[nicksolemnlyswears]

SWEET TREAT

TWO IS COMPANY, THREE IS A CROWD

pairing: opla!sanji x reader, opla!zoro x reader

word count: 2.8k

warning: 18+, smut, swearing, penetration (p in v), oral (m receiving), food play, slight vouyerism

a/n: i didn't think 'TWO IS COMPANY, THREE IS A CROWD' would receive so much love. it's been overwhelming (in a good way) how well it's been doing. thank you to everyone who liked it and reblogged it!

as a thank you here is part 2 because if zoro had his moment so should sanji. (isn't that gif of him precious?) honestly you don't need to read part 1 to understand this. it's basically porn without plot (although it does have more plot than the first part lol)

i'd like to repeat i've only ever watched netflix's one piece so don't come for me if they are out of character.

i might just write a buggy oneshot next...that clown is coming for me.

Sanji outdid himself once more with dinner. No one in the crew can deny that recruiting Sanji onto the Straw Hat Crew was a great idea. Not even Zoro, who downplays his gratefulness with jabs towards the ‘waiter.’

With a full stomach and the rocking of the Going Merry the crew shuffles to their respective shared rooms to get some rest. Except for you.

You stay behind, gathering the empty plates and returning them to the sink. Sanji shoots you a thankful smile and pecks your lips gingerly as he turns to clean up the mess he made on the kitchen counter.

It’s peaceful as you scrub the dishes and Sanji returns everything to its respective spot. Each time he walks past you his palms find your hips, squeezing your body and rubbing up against you unnecessarily. Sanji just likes feeling your presence. Physical touch and acts of service is how he shows his love.

You don’t mind his touch, you revel on it actually. There’s something about big strong hands on your hips that makes you feel safe and fills your mind with impure thoughts.

You and Sanji talk in soft voices to maintain the unusual peacefulness of the ship. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear as he helps you dry the clean dishes, his breath tickling you and making you giggle.

“Saved space for dessert?” Sanji whispers, his eyes on the hallway leading to Luffy’s bedroom, afraid the boy will barge through the door.

“You’re telling me I have the pleasure of getting dessert?” You quip with a grin while looking up at him.

Sanji softly laughs, grabbing your waist and pulling you close to him. Your arms instinctually go around his neck. “You were the only one who helped me clean.”

“I just like spending time with you,” you whisper getting on your tippy toes to brush your lips against his.

“Even more reason to treat you with something sweet,” he responds, fully capturing your lips in a kiss.

With only the two of you around he takes his time to sink into the kiss. Tilting his head to deepen it and brushing his tongue against your lips. One hand grabs your hip while the other tangles in your hair, pulling you closer.

“I thought you were making me dessert not that I was dessert…although that can be arranged,” you tease him, dropping down back on your feet, leaving one last kiss on his jaw.

Sanji chuckles and shakes his head at your words, “You’re sweet enough to be dessert, but you’re right I did promise you a treat."

Kissing your forehead, Sanji opens up the pantry to get the necessary ingredients. You lean against the counter besides him as he fixes his sleeves up and starts whisking ingredients together. All of his movements are precise and confident.

Your eyes zone in on his strong forearms. The veins and tendons tensing as he whisks away. You can't help but remember all the times he's held you in his arms, his strong grip and the pleasure he gives.

You move to stand behind him as he finishes up, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him. You leave kisses along his spine, resting your head there for a moment. Neither have to speak to appreciate each others presence and the calm environment.

“All done, darling,” Sanji announces. He places his arms over yours to intertwine your fingers and give the palm of your hand a kiss.

You peep from behind him seeing a dish with chocolate mousse and whipped cream. It's your favorite dessert, the same one he recommended back when you first met at Baratie.

As you reach for the dish Sanji grabs you and lifts you to sit on the kitchen counter. You laugh as he stands between your open legs, bringing the dessert up between the two of you.

You part your lips as he raises the spoon up to your lips. Sanji watches you expectantly and a sense of satisfaction fills him as you close your eyes in pleasure.

The mixture of flavors invade your senses causing a moan rises from your throat. Sanji's proud smile falters as your tongue swipes your bottom lip to clean off a bit of chocolatey residue. A wave of lust crashes against him and settles deep inside of him.

“Best one yet, Chef Sanji,” you say none the wiser to the thoughts of the blonde chef.

“Yeah?” He says huskily, “Let me try, darling.”

The taste of the chocolate is alive in your mouth as Sanji presses his lips against yours and sneaks his tongue inside your mouth. There's no better place to taste his creation than from you. You squeal in surprise but lean into the kiss, grinning at his playfulness.

“I have to agree with you,” Sanji responds breathlessly, tucking a stand of your hair behind your ear.

“Smooth,” you giggle, taking the dish and spoon from his hands.

You and Sanji share the tasty dessert. You take charge of the spoon, feeding it to him in intervals. When it's nearly done you take a bit of left over whip cream and spread it on his nose.

Sanji stares at you open mouthed, he wasn't expecting that from you. "You're disrespecting the chef, love," he says moodily, wiping the nose with his finger and looking around for a rag.

"Am I?" You question, grabbing his hand. He looks at you questioningly as you lift it up to your lips to suck the finger covered in whipped cream.

The same sensation from earlier fills him once more as your lips wrap around his finger. You lock your eyes with his as your tongue swirls around it, just like it would if it was his cock. You release it from your mouth with a ‘pop’ with Sanji staring at you lustful eyes. His cock stirs in his trousers, feeling confined all of the sudden.

“You're being a little brat after I've treated you so well, darling?” Sanji breathes out, grabbing your thighs and sliding you to the edge of the counter. Now pressed against him you feel the bulge you've caused.

"I'm sorry?" You 'apologize' with a mischievous grin and a shrug.

"Sure you are," Sanji grumbles, stealing a kiss from you. He doesn't kiss you long as he leaves open mouthed kisses along your neck, the smell of your perfume still present on your skin. His hands sneak under your shirt, touching your warm skin and making you shiver.

You cross your ankles behind him, keeping him close to you as your head dips back. You feel his tongue on your collarbones, sucking a bruise on them.

As best you can you blindly unbutton his shirt, allowing your nails to rake down his chest and stomach. Sanji's abdomen tenses at your touch, which doesn't go unnoticed by you.

Sanji's lips soon return to yours, slipping his tongue past them to play with your tongue. Teasingly you slip a finger in the waistband of his trousers, pulling on it playfully.

"Let me make it up to you," you pant, referring to him calling you a brat. Undoing the belt and popping open his trousers you slip your hand under his underwear.

"You're going to be the death of me, woman," Sanji groans when you take hold of his cock and pull it out of its confines. You smile widely at him as you begin stroking his length.

Sanji's attention is redirected to your chest as he brushes off the straps of your top down your shoulders and pulls it down, exposing your chest to him. He feels you shudder when the cold sea air hits your skin.

An idea forms in his head when he notices the left over whipped cream. Reaching out to it he grabs a dollop of it and spreads it over your hard nipples. He's combining two things he adores, you and food.

"Sanji, what?" You gasp, looking down at the mess he created.

"You said you could be dessert," he reminds you, briefly kissing you.

His mouth encases one of your nipples to clean you off the sweet cream. Sanji's tongue swirls and flicks against it, making your back arch in pleasure.

You momentarily stop pumping his cock in your hand, getting lost in his touch but Sanji reminds you as he thrusts into your palm. You continue to rub him up and down, tracing your thumb over his sensitive head to spread the bead that has formed there.

Meanwhile, Sanji switches to your other nipple, licking and sucking it. He needs to give props to himself as the whipped cream is delicious, especially topping your skin.

Sanji pays equal attention to each one of your breasts as he pinches and pulls on the one not in his mouth. Above him he hears your dulcet voice calling his name. Your touch is addicting as he sporadically jerks his hips to meet your pace.

Your chest and neck continue to be covered in whipped cream and yet you don't feel the stickiness as Sanji indulges on the sweet treat. Even as he comes back up to kiss your pouty lips you taste the sugar on them, leading you to crave some yourself.

"I want some whipped cream too, you know," you tell him with a pout.

"There's some left over," Sanji answers you albeit a bit confused. Seems like he forgets he's not the only one that can play around with food.

You gently push him back and drop down from the counter. Grabbing the small bowl with the left over whipped cream you kneel on the floor. Sanji is taken aback but nontheless lets you guide him to stand right in front of you.

His cock bounces as he settles in front of you. You grab it and give the tip a little kiss. Sanji grabs the counter behind him to brace himself. Dipping your finger into the bowl you spread the whipped cream along his length, letting some accumulate on his head.

Sticking out your tongue you lick Sanji from base to tip, gathering the sugary substance. You lick and lick until there is none left. Sanji watches you like a hawk, knuckles white from how hard he's grabbing the edge of the countertop. A grunt or two leave his lips, urging you on.

Sanji hisses your name when you push yourself to take his whole length in your mouth. You look up at him, cheeks hollowed and wide eyes, feigning innocence. "You saucy minx," he chides you.

Gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail Sanji takes charge of your pace and the depth you take him. You hold onto his muscular thighs, letting him do as he pleases. Your tongue does wonders as it swirls around his cockhead with each opportunity that presents itself.

The combination of your warm mouth and the visual of you half dressed and flushed takes him to the precipice but before he's able to climax he forces you off his cock. He's not about to cum without having your walls wrapped around him. Helping you up he brushes your watery eyes with his thumbs and kisses your wet red lips that match your nose.

Positioning you to face away from him, he leans you over the counter. You glance behind you as feel him pressing up against you. Sanji pulls down your shorts and panties, ignoring the wet patch on them. His fingers dipping between your legs confirms what he already knows. You've been anticipating his touch ever since you decided to stay behind to help him clean up.

"Would you look at that?" Sanji smirks, spreading his fingers to watch your slick webbing between them.

"Sanji, please. I need you," you whimper, wiggling your hips.

"Now you decide to be polite, darling?" Sanji asks, swiping his cock against your drippy slit. It catches against your entrance, teasing you.

"Mhm, please," you shakily beg.

"Remember to be quiet or else the others will come wandering around," Sanji warns you, slowly pushing into you.

You bite your lips to keep quiet as it slips in smoothly. You swear you can feel the long vein that trails down his cock and the curve of it that hits you just right.

You hold onto the wooden counter for dear life as Sanji begins thrusting into you. One hand grips your hip, pulling you back towards him and the other runs down your back, occasionally spanking your ass to get a rise out of you.

"Such a good girl," he groans. At his words your pussy clamps around him, seems like you have a praise kink. "You like when I call you that, huh?" Sanji asks, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"Yes, Sanji" you moan out, looking over your shoulder to get a glimpse of your boyfriend.

Sanji straightens back up and continues to thrust into you. Steady and deep. He focuses on the mess between your legs as a white ring forms at his base whenever he pushes back into you.

Shamelessly he grabs your ass, spreading it to see how your pussy chokes him out and how your walls drag each time he pulls out.

The height difference between the two of you is inconvenient. You're on your tippy toes as he grabs your hips to pull you impossibly closer.

You and Sanji are lost in the moment, concentrating on each other. So much so neither notices how Zoro walks into the kitchen. Quiet as a mouse, he walks around the counter until he's across from you.

You're a sight for sore eyes as your tits bounce with each of Sanjis strong thrusts. He'd come for an after dinner snack before heading to bed. He figured you'd be here with the waiter since he wasn't back in their shared cabin.

Sanji doesn't say anything, more than used to Zoro's presence by now. Zoro grabs the bowl of left over mousse and dips a finger in to taste it, liking it he grabs a spoon and leans back to watch.

"Is the waiter making you feel good?" He asks as he takes a spoonful of dessert. Sanji almost growls at the name but the feel of you choking his cock quiets him down.

You gasp at the sound of his voice. You had your eyes closed and as you open them you see Zoro, staring intently at you. You nod before speaking, "Fucking me nice and deep."

"You've gotten better at keeping quiet, baby," Zoro praises you, leaving the now empty bowl behind. He leans over the counter on his elbows, he's eye to eye with you now. "If I didn't know any better, I would have no idea of what's going on here."

"You really think now's a good time to have a conversation, mate?" Sanji glares at him. Zoro's presence causes him to snap his hips harder against yours. Your body jostles harder against the counter.

"Why not? Her mouth is free," Zoro shrugs, returning his gaze to his pretty girlfriend who is trying her hardest to keep quiet with the change of pace. "But I can leave if that's what you want."

"No!" You exclaim, extending your hand out to him to take. Zoro smirks at the blonde, grabbing your hand and cleaning the bead of sweat forming on your forehead.

"Whatever," Sanji mutters under his breath.

Your quietness doesn't last seeing as soon as Sanji touches your clit you yelp and tighten your hold on Zoro's hand.

"There she is," Zoro smirks at the noise you make. The harder Sanji thrusts and the more he touches your clit the louder your noises get.

"Sanji. Zoro." You whine, scrunching your eyes closed focusing on that knot settling deep in you.

"Spoke too soon. Want to help her out, Zoro?" Sanji grunts. He's not going to last much longer now. He feels the pressure coming to it's limit.

Zoro comes closer to you and kisses you. It's nearly not enough to keep you quiet though as your moans leak in between each kiss. Your fingers come up behind Zoro's neck, deepening the kiss as you feel your toes curling in anticipation.

Soon Sanji's thrusts become erratic and once he feels your walls clenching around him as you cum, it's over for him. He stills inside of you, shooting his load. Sanji helps you ride out your orgasm, circling your clit gently till you push him back.

There's a moment where you're slumped on the counter, forehead pressed against Zoro's. Sanji is inside of you not moving, his fingers caressing up and down your back. Your pussy spasms around his softening cock every so often.

Only when you attempt to straighten up does he pull out and helps you pull up your panties and shorts, seeing you like the mess that comes afterwards.

Sanji tucks himself back into his trousers and buttons up his wrinkled shirt, tucking it in as if nothing happened. Wrapping his arm around your waist Sanji kisses your temple and whispers another praise in your ear.

The two men exchange looks and smile as you lean tiredly against the blonde. The arrangement you three have is unorthodox but it is convenient. You make good use of your time giving them both the attention and affection they need.

[vodika-vibes]

Together

Summary: You spend an evening with Alpha.

Pairing: Alpha-17 x F!Reader

Word Count: 830

Warnings: None

A/N: I don't have a lot of words in me today, so I wrote something small and easy. I hope you like it!

Click HERE to join my taglist!

You yawn as the storm outside starts raging a little harder. You’re no stranger to storms, Kamino has them all of the time, but tonight's storm is particularly bad.

Bad enough that they had to strap down the ships to keep them from getting knocked into the ocean.

You yawn again and whine as you stretch out across your couch, turning your exhausted gaze away from the holofilm playing in front of you to see what time it is.

It’s still early.

Well, early-ish.

It’s late enough that you could get up and start dinner if you wanted. However, it’s also still early enough that you can wait an hour before you have to start making food.

Assuming you don’t fall asleep on the couch.

You yawn a third time and quickly realize that you are running the risk of falling asleep and skipping dinner, so you sit up and swing your legs to the floor.

Your suite on Kamino looks just like all of the other long-term suites. No colors, just white walls and white floors and fluorescent lights. Naturally, when you moved in you made some adaptions to make it more comfortable for you.

Thick carpets, cloth hanging on the walls to give the room some color, blankets running every color of the rainbow, and plants filling the room with life, making you feel much more at home.

It also has the added benefit of making your suite warmer than the other suites.

You silently pad across your home until you reach the kitchen, and you start pulling ingredients out of the fridge and cabinets. You’re not sure what you’re going to make, yet, but you’ll figure it out as you cook.

You’re about to pull a box of rice from the cabinet when your apartment door slides open, and you hear heavy footsteps, and very familiar grumbling, coming from the entryway. A smile lifts your lips, Alpha is home.

Eagerly, you drop everything on the counter and poke your head around the corner to greet Alpha, only to have to press your hand over your mouth when you see him.

He’s soaked, water dripping from his armor and pooling on the floor.

“Did you fall in?” You ask amusement in your voice.

He shoots you a look and finishes stripping off his armor, setting it out so it can dry overnight, and then he peels off his top and tosses it into the laundry room.

“I think I’d be less wet if I did,” Alpha jokes as he heads towards the bedroom, likely to grab something dry to wear.

“So the storm really is as bad as it sounds?” You ask as you trail after him. You sit on the edge of the bed as he moves over to the dresser and pulls out a pair of sleep pants.

“Worse. And it’s not improving.” He tosses the bottoms of his blacks into the laundry bin and smoothly pulls on his sleep pants before he walks over to you and lightly taps your chin with two fingers.

You grin at him and get to your feet to slide into his arms, “Is it getting worse?” You ask as you rub your cheek against his chest.

“That’s what it looks like. Everything’s being shut down until the storm lessens.”

You pull back to look up at him, “Meaning?”

“Meaning, cyare, that you have me all to yourself for the next couple of days.”

Somehow, your grin widens and you hop up to wrap your arms around his neck, “Oh no! Whatever will I do with myself?”

“Brat,” Alpha says affectionately as he wraps his arms around you, “I’m sure you’ll come up with something to keep yourself occupied.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” As soon as you’re sure that Alpha won’t let you fall, you press your hands against his cheeks and you lean in to press your forehead against his, “I missed you today.”

“You saw me this morning,” Alpha reminds you, his hands firm against the back of your thighs to hold you securely against him. “In fact, you laid on top of me and tried to convince me to sleep in with you.”

“You refused,” You reply with a small pout.

“Mm, I did. And I will every other time until this war is over.” You pout a little more and then giggle as he shifts you to catch your lips with his own, “It’s the only way to keep you safe, cyar’ika.”

“I know.” You bump your nose against his, “I can’t wait until the war is over and we can go somewhere else.” 

“Yeah?”

“Somewhere warm and sunny, where we can make our own family.” You whisper.

He chuckles, “You want me to give you babies, beautiful?”

“Mm, someday.”

“It’s a promise.” Alpha kisses you again, and then lowers you back to your feet, “for now, how about dinner and a movie?”

You grin at him, “Date night?”

“Whatever you want, beautiful. I’ll make it happen.”

@bad4amficideas @justiceandwar98 @Mira-Loves-Star-Wars @tiredbi-peach @dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023 @Kimiheartblade @padawancat97 @falconfeather23435 @etod

@bb8-99 @kiss-anon @continous-mistakes @imabeautifulbutterfly @n0vqni

[henrioo]

✦ ── FALLING IN LOVE: SANJI

Sanji x Gn! Reader

Synopsis: Where slowly Sanji realizes that his feelings for you have changed

Warnings: Pure cuteness, nothing really alarming, just a passionate and jealous Sanji

Word Count: 1,4k

Notes: This should have been an ask, but when I finished it I realized it was very different from what I had been asked and decided to do another one. But so you don't miss it, here it is being posted, I hope you like it. Sorry for the English

Notes edit: Pronouns have been updated to neuter thanks to @waitingmydemons , thanks sweetie

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ• ────── ✦ ────── •

It's really not a secret that Sanji is a bit emotional and has a tendency to fall in love with pretty people, so when you introduced yourself as a new crew member with that bright yet nervous smile, no one would really be surprised if he had hearts eyes and a wide mouth.

Of course, initially he wouldn't think he was really in love, after all he doesn't consider himself a one-man man. That's why he tries to act as normal as he can around you, still having the aura of a lover and servant who would do anything for you, but also trying to convey credibility that he wasn't really in love.

Of course, he can't run away from it for long, but everything starts much slower than it seems, see:

First it starts with your kindness, you were more than excited to meet all of the crew and become friends with them, so you would walk up and down asking if you could be of assistance or just spend some time chatting to find out more about the people you now live with.

First Sanji didn't want to ask you for help, he didn't want to burden you with cooking and he also wanted to try to impress you by showing how he can handle the entire kitchen by himself. But you insisted that you could at least be of some use, so he sighed deeply and asked you to cut up some vegetables and occasionally stir certain pots or add ingredients. Nothing that could really be difficult if you were only pretending to want to help.

You might not be the best in socializing, but you were definitely doing your best to make the conversation flow naturally for both of you. So Sanji also made an effort so that you could talk calmly, he would ask a little more about your village and journey, always being careful not to press where he shouldn't, sometimes he would ask about your hobbies and food tastes, nothing really deep but that still counted.

You weren't far behind, you loved to talk and talking to Sanji was so easy! You asked about the restaurant, about Zeff, about his fighting style and his passion for cooking, even if you couldn't have known that there was a much deeper past there, you were pleased with what you discovered the first few times you started talking.

As the weeks passed and you were intimate enough with everyone, Sanji initially thought you'd drift away a bit, focused on doing your own thing and settling in on the ship. But what would be his surprise when you showed up in the kitchen not long after asking if he could stay there and keep you company while you studied some things. He didn't know what that feeling was, but his legs went weak, his heart skipped a beat, his stomach dropped, and heat surged through his body. He smiled and stammered out a statement as he tried to get back in control.

And you came back the next day, and also the next, you walked around the islands together, on the rounds... It was strange, at least for Sanji. He was close to all the members, that's clear, but he didn't feel that close to any of them. Every time you got close to him, his heart fluttered and he started stuttering, not knowing exactly how or what to say. He just needed to talk to you, whatever the subject.

He couldn't be falling in love with you, could he? Of course he thought you were attractive, your hair was magnificent, your eyes were sparkling and your smile was amazing. He also really liked your personality, your love for the crew and their tastes, your focus and determination, how you never give up on what you believed to be right. Of course, he also felt strange next to you, with his legs shaking, his stomach nervous, his hands sweating and the lack of words. But that was all just because you were a new person compared to the others, that would pass with time, wouldn't it?

Definitely not. But he only saw it in the first jealousy crisis he had, you should spend the day on the island together since you wanted to cook something and needed the help of someone experienced in that. But just in the nick of time Usopp needed your help with art supplies and you ended up leaving your object behind, prioritizing helping your friend before that. Of course Sanji didn't mind, it was just one day, you would have many more. So what was the problem?

He didn't know it, but as he walked around town looking for supplies he couldn't stop thinking about you, how much more fun it would be to run around the market stalls listening to your beautiful voice. How you could stop by some cafe and eat together while chatting, even how nice it would be to cook with you afterwards, teaching you what he loved so much. He muttered irritably, taking another cigarette, perhaps the fifth in an hour, as he stopped in a square to collect his thoughts.

That's when he saw you. You weren't together with Usopp, but in front of some stalls, buying jewelry and small weapons, he immediately smiled and thought about approaching. Perhaps now you were free and could spend the rest of the day together, but the events that followed had his stomach twisting as he bit down on the cigarette until he tasted it on his tongue. A man approached you with a huge bouquet of flowers, he appeared to be a civilian and by his clothes perhaps he worked as a florist or gardener. The man smiled and offered you a beautiful bouquet of roses, you smiled with slightly flushed cheeks and accepted, the man would not miss the chance to pass his hand to your shoulder as he approached.

Sanji expected to see discomfort on your face, maybe despair, anything he could use as an excuse to go over there and kick that man until his face was unrecognizable. But you didn't. Instead you looked like you were having fun, laughing and getting red in the cheeks at everything the other said, Sanji felt his stomach sinking and hurting, what was that? He grabbed his bags and walked back to the ship, not in the mood for shopping anymore that day.

Robin was in the kitchen as she had stayed to watch the ship, she greeted him quickly without taking her eyes off the book she was reading. He responded with as much cheer as he had, none, and then proceeded to unpack everything for storage, although he really hadn't bought much for being back early. He could feel Robin's gaze on her back, perhaps it was obvious how awkward he was, but the man didn't wish to trouble the beautiful lady with feelings he didn't even understand.

"How was your day on the island with (y/n)?" She asked quietly, but Sanji felt his entire body shiver and go rigid.

"Ahn… They couldn’t go, busy with Usopp I guess" he tried to dodge the subject and replied in the most ordinary tone, although there was a tremor in his voice.

"Oh, I see" he thanked her for the next few minutes of silence, maybe she would just forget about it and he could pretend that nothing happened "is that why you are so upset?" He nearly dropped the plate he was washing.

"I'm not upset" he said that to who? For Robin? For himself? Who was he trying to fool?

"Hm…" she hummed "Whatever you say" a good quality of the woman is that she wouldn't insist on these matters, she knew when to withdraw if necessary "But you can talk to me if you want" Sanji smiled appreciatively for having such a generous friend.

"I just…" he shouldn't have said it, he didn't even know what he was feeling! "I��� I saw them with someone else besides Usopp… They looked happy" he mumbled not really knowing what the problem was, what exactly was he angry about?

"Oh… I see" he could hear the woman's smile.

"Understood what?" He asked, nervous and curious.

"Hm? Didn't you notice, cook-san?" She had a lively, light tone.

"No?" he asked, confused.

"You are jealous." She finished and it didn't take long to get up, ready to leave. Sanji is immobilized, completely paralyzed and not knowing what to say, let alone what to do. Robin must have noticed his face in shock and laughed at the door, then spoke calmly "Don't worry, it's normal to be jealous when we're in love…"

Then she left, leaving the man alone, and for the first time since you joined the crew, Sanji realized something: he was in love with you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ• ────── ✦ ────── •

Notes: Well that was it! It was the first thing I wrote after my short break so I don't know if it was really good, but I liked it even though it was short. The next stories will be the ask

Also I'm planning to start a series of imagines so that's why orders are closed, hope you understand!

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Sad Poems but I Choose to Interpret Them as Happy

Jade Leech x Reader

“I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them . . . . I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm whale loves the flavor of naval uniforms. I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp . . . I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and all the secrets have gone gasping into the world.” -Excerpt from The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket

Jade is not as fickle as his brother, but he too is guilty of interests that come and go like the wind. There are some that stay, like hiking, foraging, and photography; but there are far more that he drops as soon as he’s figured them out. More often than not, his love is not long-lasting.

He has long accepted that any romantic relationship he finds himself in would have a very slim chance of being normal. Healthy. No, his love will likely destroy his partner, whether it is because of obsession or of fleeting interest. He thinks it wouldn’t be so bad to experience it. It would be interesting, a deviation from his norm.

You’re his target, but only because you made such a fascinating proposition. When you’re bored of me, tell me immediately, and we can break up with no hard feelings. Were you such a pragmatic person? He hadn’t noticed before. It spurs him on to know more, to learn everything about you. And once he does, once every single secret you could possibly hide is laid bare before him, he’ll lose interest like he always does and drop you like a bad habit.

So he does. Your favourite food. Colour. Season. The basic things, until they get more specific. The way you do your hair in the mornings. The recipes you favour and the ratio of their ingredients. Your reactions to his occasional unhinged comment. The shows that you laugh or cry at. The ones you think are mediocre. He files them all away in his memory, picking you apart like you’re a subject to study. That’s what he tells himself, anyway. Mild interest. Once he finds out everything, he’ll grow bored and leave.

Days turn to months turn to a year. Has so much time really passed? The secrets you hold have dwindled in number. He knows you inside out, top to bottom, soul to body. There’s only one thing left that he doesn’t know.

You often tease him, asking why he won’t bring you to the Coral Sea. He always gives some shoddy excuse or the other. He isn’t so sure, himself. There’s no real reason to stall. The ice floes have retreated. His parents would be delighted. He would finally know how you’d act in his hometown, in the dark, deep sea that is so different from your home, and with that, he would finally drop you. There will be nothing new.

Unfortunately, I find myself quite busy recently. Perhaps next month. When next month comes around, he pushes it another thirty days. Then another. He was never one to procrastinate, so why now? This is far from efficient. Was he such a cowardly person? He hadn’t known before. He needs to get it done so that he will no longer have a reason to keep you by his side—

Ah. That is the issue, isn’t it?

He doesn’t know how long he’d been in love. All he knows is that he can’t get bored anymore, even if the smile you give him is the same, even if your laughter that warms his chest is unchanging, even if he brings you home. All he knows is that as much as he thought his love would be destructive, he treasures your comfort and happiness too much to think about hurting you anymore. The deadline no longer lies where your last secret is. Forever, until the seas dry up, until he breaths his last gasp—he will love you forever.

[kit-williams]

Plague Soup for the Soul

Plague Witch!Rader x Typhus the traveler, Herald of Nurgle

Tag list: @bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@plegg

Song on repeat: Hold, Release; Rakshasa & Carcasses

Word Count: 3242 3602 words too many

tw: Casual body horror? Gonna be real people idk how to tag this. Lots of insect stuff, update: SMUT

Food was important for Nurglites. It was embedded deep into their worship, their mythos, always a key part in their legends, and of course highly important to Grandfather Nurgle. For Plague Witches they acted as conduits for two important aspects of their god... as their bubbling cauldrons contained eternal soups and through these soups is how they would preform their magic & spread the love of Grandfather. They say the most skilled Plague Witch would even get a drop of the eternal brew into their cauldron if their soup and their skills of incorporating plagues into the broth was as skilled as how Grandfather did. A good base was the key like with any good soup! Just as much as Love, good ingredients & along with their own ways of enchanting their soups kept them going century after century. But, to get them that far wasn't easy as some would too quick to ravage the body fizzling out rapidly after infecting many... and others would get cold before the potency was there.

Typhus was the Herald of Nurgle... so deeply tied to his god... so he could tell that something had agitated the Lord of Plagues as the Nurglings were not giggling they were frustrated and impatient... no mischievous glint in their eyes, "Dearest little ones," He spoke to the hoard of Nurglings that kept him company the closest one looked up at Typhus with a dopey grin, "What displeases Grandfather? Have I not done enough to sway the Great Game in his favor? Have I not brought his love to enough planets recently?"

Grandpa is pleased with you!" One shouted over the rest before the hoard babbled out, "However, there is a plague witch in your fleet with the most delicious soup! But! They offer such a meager portion that it has taken Grandpa this long to figure out where they are." They babbled excitedly.

Typhus drummed his fingers against his stomach... it couldn't be any of the Plague Witches in his direct service as they all had large bubbling cauldrons and he knew for a fact they gave him & Grandfather their portions; even if it was a new brew they were trying. It had to be a fledgling... a newly blossomed witch with a starter base... Typhus drummed his chin humming. Such a potent base for a young soup... would mean they would be a powerful witch long term and if Typhus mentored him or her... "What is the soup like?"

"OH!" One shrieked as his hoard of nurglings had heard Nurgle praise the concoction, "Grandda says it hits right in the soul! Truly made with love! A perfect base that will lovingly cradle any plague! Grandda must find this witch! They hide from his blessings! I wonder if they are shy?" They all talked over each other leaving Typhus to wonder how to lure the witch out...

The wizened crone rubbed her chin as she was far more pus and pestilence than human at this point as she spat to the side onto a nurgling, "It has to be a fledgling doing this my lord... only one like that would offer so little, not out of being selfish but simply because of how little they have. Cauldrons like these take up so much room." Behind her was her brood of nurglings giggling & babbling as they worked around her cauldron for her as she talked to Typhus. Mortal helpers got ingredients ready passing them off to the bloated demons who giggled as they tossed them into the pot, "There are a couple of fledglings on this ship that I could think might be the ones you're after but their soups aren't even twenty years old... but if it is a fledgling they'll be feeding the masses and perfecting their craft. Though... I question if they are even trying." The crone says dismissively as a nurgling brings a ladle over for her to try and she sips her soup.

"What makes you say that?" Typhus inquires as he is not a Plague Witch and does not peer into the coven politics as why would he they simply have to make sure they give him their best.

"This mythical soup grandfather is looking for doesn't sound like it has any plagues in it. No one on your ship would dare try to make a soup like this without plagues. They might be simply dabbling in the techniques which has made something that infects the soul, a grand base if it exists, which would be wonderful for converting others to the cause. But, there are a few upstarts on other ships in the fleet... that I've heard grumbles and groans from of such young things competing with others whose cauldrons have been bubbling for centuries and millennia. But this is all I can theorize to help my lord." In the list that she gives to Typhus... your name is amongst them.

Your bells jingled as you carried your tiny portable cauldron now full of donated ingredients, used bones, scraps of meat, a few fungi, and other scavenged or bought items. Three tails behind you with bells tied to them via ribbons jangled behind you as you moved through the packed halls. You were excited as you got a small bit of pork as you had arrived when it had been freshly butchered. A small amount for you and the rest for your soup! So then everyone who ate what you cooked would be able to share even if they weren't as lucky as you.

You were almost home and you could maybe take a small nap before- you stop as you look down at the small hoard of nurglings just waiting in a pile outside of your door. You looked up at the many mouthed cultist with them giving you a haphazard grin at you, "I'm sorry miss they had heard about your soup..." You watch as one of them starts to lick your door, "They've been patiently waiting."

"I... I've got enough for them to share a bowl." You sigh softly but you can't help but smile at their antics... you suppose you didn't mind a late dinner. As you unlocked the door they were wonderfully well behaved as none of them rushed inside when you opened it and walked in just letting them watch you. Your own "cauldron" full of soup wasn't much larger than the portable one in your hands as you place it on your small counter. You pulled out your nicer wide rimmed bowl as it was for nurglings... "How paitently did you say they were waiting?" You ask as you grab your ladle.

"Very." The man said with a charming smile as your three tails whiped about behind you causing the bells on them to jingle as you walked over to the pot and gave them a large serving.

"Well I hope you all enjoy." You say putting the bowl down and then handed him a small cup full.

"Oh! Thank you." He says as you walk back into the room just barely hearing his mutter, "Divine Excrement... that's fucking amazing."

Moments like this you lived for... the way others eyes would light up as they would enjoy your cooking. It was always hard to refuse their request for seconds... just as you stood there as they all looked up at you holding the bowl politely asking for another bowl... "Ah ah ah fellas remember what she said. She could only spare us this amount and I'm certain she'll have more tomorrow?" He looked over at you and you nodded.

"Tomorrow I'll have a full cauldron and if you come early enough you can ask for seconds." That got the happy little creatures to cheer as you waved them off as you closed your door.

The cultist looked down at the nurgling with a large eye on its stomach as its iris was beloved grandfather's symbol... it was excited, bouncing all around as it was certain that this was it! The cultist pulled out a small device and radioed his lord, "Lord Typhus we found the witch."

You were tired as all you had left to do was enchant the soup and then you could finally enjoy your dinner. You rubbed your eye with the palm of your hand as the bells on your clothes and tails felt so heavy by this point but just a little bit longer. You thought to how you were close enough to be able to afford a proper cauldron and then you wouldn't have to limit yourself too much on how many people you could feed. Sure it would take up more of your already limited space but you knew it would be worth it! You were getting ready to enchant when you heard the door unlock... you looked worried as no one should be able to unlock your door even if they had good intentions. Your hand grabs the wood of the cleaver handle as not much of a fighter but you were going to try... why was there suddenly a buzzing noise and why was it so loud? The door opens and it gets even louder as you back yourself up into a corner as a Space Marine wedges themself into your door... and not just any Space Marine but the Herald of Nurgle himself... Typhus the Traveler... when his yellow eye lenses look right at you, you drop the clever out of fear and press against the wall.

He chuckle softly, "Well the blossoming Plague Witch that has been eluding Grandfather..." He looks around the room and right at your cauldron, "I can see why your offerings have been meager. Let me have a taste."

You swallow the lump of dread in your throat as you dare speak up, "It's not done yet.. my lord." You quickly tack on.

"Oh?" He said as he regarded you like a scared cat as you were pressed against the far wall, eyes wide with fear not daring to leave the threat in your sight, "When will it be?"

You swallow again, "Four minutes... I have to enchant it first." You hoped he would leave.

But you were not that lucky as he gestured to the cauldron, "Well do not let me keep you little witch. I might be patient but I do not possess Grandfather's long patience."

You inhale as you have to be a brave girl. You peel yourself away from the wall and stand in front of your bubbling cauldron, your back to Typhus. Your mind began to play its song as your head bobbed before your body started to sway as your bells began to jingle. The mouth on your lower back opened up as you sang with two mouths. Your movements were bouncy and at time violent as you focused on the words leaving your mouth and the way the bells rang with such pleasing chimes. You had forgotten Typhus was there watching you. You made your bounding way around your cauldron singing loudly as you were having fun, like you always did, putting your hands together as you crouched before jumping back up with a grin on your face.

Typhus watched as your hair bounced free from its ribbon holding it back. Your eyes glowing a bright green as you were lost in the ritual process as small jars of spices, herbs, and powders floated their way over to you. You took handfuls, pinches, and scoops as you added them in time with parts of the ritual where you weren't singing. The smile on your face wide as you sang louder and louder in a language unfamiliar to Typhus but that hardly mattered. Witches all had their own ways of enchanting and if a nonsense song was your way... he wouldn't question it.

You stop for a moment before violently spinning in place, your bells clamoring, as you sang in a high pitched voice... and Typhus could hear something respond in a voice that wasn't your own. You did this call and response three times. The climax of your enchantment approaches and you sing so loudly before your mouths howl in an otherworldly way. Your cauldron bubbling violently as you grab a handful of a spice blend from a pouch as you pause and chant out the last words before throwing it in. A cloud appears as it bubbles violently changing color from a dark brown to a yellow.

You deflate as you finish dancing. It was always so physically demanding to enchant your soup but it was worth it done this way... to see the happy faces of those eating your food! You turn around and yelp as you see Typhus in your doorway as you remember he was there watching you the whole time. You quickly grab your small portable cauldron and fill it, trying your best to not let any spill as you offer it to the Herald. He takes it and opens up the mouth plate and you avert your gaze as for Typhus he finally gets to taste this soup that Grandfather Nurgle has been pining after.

Typhus takes large gulps from the tiny thing you handed him... Oh! He can feel it worm its way right to his soul like some burrowing parasite! Yet it was like getting a warm embrace from a parent... or even a lover... that filled his limbs with a tingling warming happiness. Yet he could feel it also be akin to a gentle kiss from death... the sweetness of the lips leaving a mark on the skin and yet death fails to collect. He could feel his powers swell... his connection to Nurgle strengthen even! It washed over his SOUL and it was absolutely INVIGORATING and perhaps even a little ADDICTING like getting praise from Grandfather Nurgle.

"Fill it again." Typhus demands of you and of course you obey.

"Someone tend to her cauldron." You hear him bellow out as he pulls himself free of your door and you look confused. As another woman walks in and starts to tend to your soup. You put a lid on your small portable cauldron.

"Wait... what is going on." You say as you are led outside and other cultists lead you after the Herald of Nurgle. "Where am I being taken too." You ask fearfully.

Typhus decides to answer you, "To the Plague Cathedral upon the flagship, my ship. Grandfather demands a serving. And what better place to offer it to him."

You swallow as you follow him as those around you make sure you will be taken to the Cathedral.

You had only been here once before as the Cathedral on the flagship was more like a massive hive as unlike the giant fungi that grew around the church you went to... this was massive with so many insects around. You were led closer to the large ornate altar as it oozed honey as you could feel your shoes stick to the floor as well it went from floor to comb. Large insects of Nurgle skitter on the walls and ceiling as they watched and buzzed the closer you got.

"Come now little blossom." Typhus coos as you notice that the cultists with you stop at the last row of pews closest to the altar and yet Typhus gestures you to follow. The lump in your throat grows heavy as you say close to the herald as your new companions are a hoard of nurglings and the swarms that enter and leave from the large structures on his back.

"Open it up and leave it on the altar then come back right here." Typhus orders and you obey, putting it on the altar before you take the lid off and rush back to Typhus' side. You jump as the braziers suddenly blaze to life with sickly green flames.

You might not have been as connected to the warp as Typhus was but he could see a visage of his deity looking down, it was still a small offering but... it didn't matter as Nurgle finally had a taste of this soup that was eluding him just like the plague that made Ku'gath.

"Typhus! Have you tried this?" The voice said to him as you just flinched not understanding the loud voice filling the air around the alter and you wanted to hide behind the marine but you stayed.

"I have." He replies just looking up at the loud buzzing swarm that seems to gather. You try your best to not cower.

"Blessings! Blessings! How old is this soup?" The Grandfather inquired.

Typhus turned to you, "How long have you been tending to this?"

"Five years my lord."

"All of this in such a short amount of time! Blessings Typhus! Blessings! The garden will surely flourish with her delicious food!"

"Of Course Grandfather." He slammed his scythe into the comb keeping it standing as the destroyer hive buzzed loudly and you flinched.

"Blessings upon thee child! For the Grandfather has told me to bless thee! I come from the garden of plenty overflowing with milk and honey." He says just as if a sermon was being held. "And just as you will be embraced by the garden you two shall be a fountain of plenty... rejoice young witch!" The buzzing got louder and louder as the destroyer bugs all swarmed inside of him. The hand suddenly on your throat has you kicking your feet as they leave the ground as you are place on the altar and he once more removes his mouthplate. "Open up." His thumb rests on your chin and you obey... afraid of what will happen if you don't but equally scared of what will happen if you do.

As you open your mouth he opens his as you watch several destroyer bugs crawl out from his mouth as you can hear the faint noises from him as he... starts to regurgitate something. His shoulders move as his throat bobs and you are left helpless as to what is about to be placed into your mouth. You feel destroyer bugs landing on your face and on your body... antennae drumming against your skin. His mouth pushes to yours as something slowly crawls into your mouth... it's honey.

Your eyes open wide as destroyer hive honey was something that only champions of the Grandfather could have... but only in small amounts as too much would leave one into a mindless warp spawn. You eat the sweet sticky liquid as it just keeps oozing and oozing into your mouth before you... you start to convulse as Typhus pulls away running his tongue around your mouth just licking up the excess and wiping what oozed out onto his chin. Typhus enjoys the sickly sweet smell that permeates from you... or perhaps that is more of the hive's enjoyment as the smell he likes comes from between your legs but he could indulge in that later.

The sickening crack echoes as the side of your skull breaks apart as your hair solidifies into petals and a large, yet lightweight, flower has bloomed. A gift directly from the garden... Typhus lets his hands wander over your form letting his fingers press hard against your breasts and between your legs as you whimper feeling dazed and confused. Typhus decided that later was now as he bit the rough material between your legs and ground his teeth as it was shredded.

His tongue swipes up against your bared cunt as you whimper still confused as to what was going on... why your head was pounding... why there was so much buzzing in your ears... you're cunt quivers as you don't realize how the insects crawl over transformed flesh and lap up your nectar and brush against your pollen. Typhus in the meantime buzzes loudly himself as your honey is far more like nectar as well. His tongue pushing in hard and deep deep into your stigma like an insect pushing their labium deep down the style. His tongue pushed hard against the clitoris trying to get you to orgasm again... give him more nectar... Little Blossom give him more nectar!

You whine out as your nectar is swallowed up by Typhus for his hive to use... and he's not going to leave your flower wanting. He places his codpiece on the altar as Typhus grunts softly pushing the far too large cock inside of you. Your body relents as he buzzes out in enjoyment as he starts to cross pollinate you. Though if he were to go off of his allusion of earlier... this was the milk he had alluded to earlier. But his eyes were focused on the lovely flower on the side of your head... blood pooling in one of the combs on the altar as the pink petals had swirls of your hair in them... the rest was brain matter colored... bones... muscles... a beautiful human flower.

You look up at him still so very dazed but whimpering underneath the space marine as you wonder where you are... not realizing you're being fucked on the altar within the grand Cathedral. "Such a pretty little Blossom." Typhus grunts as he stills and rushes himself to completion as he will have more time to savor you later.

Typhus looks at you as he puts his codpiece on as cum oozes out of you as your flower is slowly closing up as you seem to be passing out. He picks you up and freed his scythe as it was now time to let you rest... for there was much for you to learn.

[lady-pug]

In Sickness And In Health - In Sickness

Summary: The kid fell ill while Din is away and you feel absolutely hopeless trying to help him, but nothing seems to work. You get progressively more worried the more he cries, and it's driving you insane. Hopefully Din will get back soon.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Word count: 3,8k

Warnings: description of sickness (also Grogu throws up), small injuries (scratches)

Notes: this one is actually a two-shot, in which both parts complement each other. This was a fun one to write. Do keep in mind that Grogu is sick in this one, so there are descriptions of feeling ill and throwing up (so if this is something that makes you uncomfortable please feel free to skip ahead). As always, if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. I hope you enjoy this one!

Reader’s gender not specified.

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Crying. That’s all you could hear and all your mind could focus on. You even felt like crying yourself. The kid had been desperately wailing for hours already and no matter what you did he wouldn’t stop. 

Din had been gone for almost two days now, away gathering information that could be useful in finding the kid’s people. While you had originally wanted to go with him, he had deemed the place and the people he was meeting too dangerous for the kid, and asked that you stay on the Crest and look after him while he was gone (“Just like the good old days, huh?” you had joked, to which Din answered with a brief chuckle).

Almost immediately after Din had left the kid started growing fussy. You hadn’t given it too much thought as it was pretty normal behavior for him everytime his guardian left, missing him as much as you did, and had tried to distract him with some coloring and some food. Your suspicion that something was indeed wrong started to arise when the kid refused to eat the jerky you offered him, and continued whimpering. After all, this little boy loved food almost more than anything. You decided that maybe a nap would make him feel better and put him in his little hammock above Din’s bunk, where he fell asleep almost immediately.

The silence on the ship lasted only a few hours, which you had used to fix some wiring under the navigation controls, before the kid woke up wailing. You scrambled from under the controls, almost hitting your head in the process, and ran to the hull to check on him. Once you opened the bunk’s door the sight before you made your heart clench with concern.

The kid was bawling his eyes out, the little hammock swinging back and forth with the force of his sobs, his skin a paler shade of green, almost grayish. 

“Oh, my love” you picked him up gently, but his squirming nearly made you drop him, so you cradled him a little more firmly “What’s wrong?”

His little robe felt wet under your palms, his skin damp with sweat. You gently laid the back of your hand on his forehead, confirming that he was indeed quite warm.

“You’re ill, is that what’s bothering you?” you cooed at him, trying to calm him down “Let’s see how we can make you feel better, yes?”

You took him back to the cabinet that served as a kitchen pantry.

“When I was little, old lady Aola often took care of me when I was sick. She would help Porcellus make this amazing cream of womp rat soup that would get me back on my feet in no time.” you sat him down on a counter, his crying never ceasing “Let’s see if we can improvise something similar for you.”

Improvise, as it turned out, was a huge understatement. It was quite hard to store fresh food on the Razor Crest, so you and Din mainly kept canned essentials and food that could be frozen and subsequently defrosted. The rare times you managed to come across fresh goods, they were quickly consumed before they could spoil. Therefore you found out you didn’t have the main ingredient to make soup for the kid: womp rat meat.

“Okay, not to worry, we can figure something out, right kid?”

You didn’t receive a response, the little boy only kept on crying. The more he sobbed, the more distressed you felt, fumbling with the ingredients to finish the soup quicker. More than once his crying spiked a little louder, almost making you chop a finger off. 

“There we go” you said once you finished, pouring some of the soup on a tiny bowl for him “You’ll start to get better after you eat.”

Once the soup had cooled off a little you handed him the bowl and turned back to get some for yourself. What you did not expect, however, was for the kid to grow even more fussy, screaming even louder, and use his magic powers to send the entire pan flying towards you.

“Maker, kid!” you yelped, the soup burning your skin even through your clothes as it ran down the front of your shirt. Some had splashed on your exposed arms, the skin there starting to redden.

That seemed to calm him down somewhat. In between hiccups, the little boy started giggling.

“Yeah, this’ what does it, huh?” he laughed even more at the pained grimace on your face “Laugh at my misery, kid, and see what happens.” you smirked at him, no malice behind it.

You went back to your cot to grab a somewhat clean shirt to replace the one soaking with soup. You winced as you tried to peel it off, the course material sticking to your injured skin. Once you were presentable you went back to the kid to find him quietly sipping his soup.

“Feeling better now that you let it all out of your system?” you asked him, to which he only gurgled in response.

After cleaning up the mess the kid had made while he finished eating you decided to check his temperature. Placing your palm against his head, you noticed that he felt even warmer than before. 

“This doesn’t feel good.” 

Grabbing the ship’s medkit you retrieved the infrared thermometer, but not before noticing a single stimshot sitting there. You stared at the small green item at the bottom of the kit, pondering your next steps. You were hesitant about using it, not knowing anything about the kid’s species and how his system would react to the stim. Besides, the dose was designed for adults. Maker, it was strong enough to use on a wookie, what would happen if you gave it to a baby? I’ll leave it as a last resort, you decided.

The number displayed on the thermometer was high, but you couldn’t tell exactly how high for the kid’s standards. 

“I guess we’ll just have to monitor your fever.” you smiled down at him, realizing his eyes were getting a little droopy “How about we give you a nice, lukewarm bath and put you down to sleep, what do you say?”

Compared to his fussiness from earlier, the kid was incredibly calm while you washed and dried him. He was practically asleep by the time you put him down on his hammock again.

You decided a cold shower would do you good. Upon closer inspection, now that you weren’t in such a rush, the skin of your chest and stomach was quite red. There were even some small blisters where the hot soup had come in direct contact with the skin of your arms. If you remembered correctly, there wasn’t much bacta left so you decided against using it, as Din could need it once he was back. The cold water helped soothe the burns.

Hopping out of the shower you sat down on your cot with a datapad to do some research. Surely someone on the holonet knew something about a species with green skin and big pointy ears, right? But you came back empty handed, as not a single mention to anything similar to the kid’s kind could be found. You quickly changed your approach and settled upon browsing through blogs with tips for first-time parents on how to take care of ill babies. A few tips were actually pretty useful.

This whole day had been very exhausting and had left you completely drained. Checking the chrono you realized it was starting to get dark outside. After checking on the kid one last time, you decided to go to bed early.

You managed to get only a couple of hours of shuteye before you jolted back to consciousness by the kid screaming bloody murder. 

“Oh, no.” you groaned tiredly as you got up to tend to him “I’m coming, my love.” you whispered even though he clearly couldn’t hear you.

When you opened the door to Din’s bunk you panicked for a second not seeing the baby on his hammock. Instead you found him lying on his back on Din’s bed, his little arms swinging in the air as if he couldn’t get up.

“Oh, kid, what happened?!” you asked as you picked him up and cradled him close to your chest. A second later you stiffened, and if you could facepalm you would: it was pretty obvious, he must have squirmed too much and fallen from his hammock. You were so tired you were starting to lose your coherence.

The kid gripped the front of your shirt with all his might and nuzzled into your collarbone, his crying quieting a little but never stopping. You placed the back of your hand on his forehead.

“You’re still hot.”

You fumbled with the thermometer, almost dropping it in the process and measured his temperature. It was practically the same as the last time you checked. 

“At least it’s not going up.” 

You started walking around the hull bouncing him in your arms, trying to get him to settle down again. You tried shushing him, humming quietly, singing a lullaby. You were so desperate to help him however you could that you even went as far as putting a bucket over your head and impersonating Din to see if that would calm him down.

“I can bring you in warm” you said, your voice forcedly deeper and lower “or I can bring you in cold.”

That makes him blow a quiet tiny giggle between hiccups, but otherwise did not stop his crying.

“I don’t know what to do.” you whimpered, frustrated tears brimming in your eyes “How can I help you?” 

The kid kept on crying for a few more minutes before he stopped all of a sudden. You looked at him quizzically and for a moment you hoped, you prayed that this was it. Before you could even react he gurgled and puked all over the front of your shirt.

“Of course.” you sighed.

That seemed to do it for him, apparently having been woken up by a sore stomach. He instantly quieted down.

“Let’s see if you can keep something else down.” there you went to prepare him more food. Now with a full stomach again you put him down to sleep again, this time directly on Din’s bed so he wouldn’t fall off and hurt himself, and headed to the shower. Again. Then you went to bed. Again.

This went on for two days: every few hours the kid would wake up wailing, you would tend to him and more often than not you would have to get back to the shower. It got to the point where you had no more clean shirts and had resorted to hunting for one of Din’s to wear. His fever was not going down, but at least it wasn’t going up (or that’s what you kept telling yourself). By the beginning of the first afternoon you gave up trying to sleep, running exclusively on caf and willpower (which, to be fair, was dimming every passing moment you stayed awake a little longer). You were practically swaying on your feet. 

You were adamant on not using the stim, too scared of doing more harm than good. Instead you’ve been trying to bring him back to full health with only soup and lukewarm baths and lots of water and rest, but that was not seeming to do the trick.

You briefly considered calling Din on the comm he had, but it was for emergencies only. But wasn’t this an emergency? You were hesitant on calling him and worrying him when he was so far away, or worse, possibly giving away his position in a vulnerable moment. So you resorted to doing this on your own.

The kid had just quieted down in your arms, nuzzling further into your embrace. You let yourself hope for just a moment that he was finally going to get better. After settling him down on Din’s bed, you sat down on your own cot to try and read some manuals on the Razor Crest’s navigation system and hopefully learn how to properly fly the ship just in case. The kid was the quietest he ever was this past couple of days, his nap lasting a lot longer than before. Thank the Maker, you sighed in relief. Even though your eyelids were getting heavier by the second, you forced yourself to stay awake just a while longer. He might need me, you argued, I need to be ready. Just in case this isn’t over, I need to be there for him if he-

You were harshly woken by a piercing scream and the floor vibrating. Disorientated, you checked the chrono and cursed as you realized a few hours had gone by since you put the kid down to sleep. Kriff, I must have dozed off.

Standing up on unsteady feet you felt the whole ship shaking. Reaching for the bunk, you slid the door open to find the kid screaming his little lungs out, his little arms flailing around. He must be the one making the ship move with his powers.

“Hey kid, what’s wrong?” you asked, reaching to check his forehead “Kriff, you’re burning up!”

Grabbing the thermometer, you measured his temperature. It was high, a lot higher than it was before. You silently cursed yourself for falling asleep, having missed when his temperature started to rise.

“Oh, Maker, kid.” your eyes started stinging from unshed tears “I’m so sorry, I should have been taking better care of you, I’m-”

A sob got stuck in your throat. You were absolutely desperate and also so frustrated with your inability to make the kid feel better, what would Din say if he saw you now? This was why he brought you along, one of the reasons he hired you in the first place, what would he think of you if you couldn’t even do your job right? And the kid! He was hurting, that absolutely broke your heart, and there was nothing you could do but hopelessly watch. And you were so very tired.

No.  

You refused to give up yet. The kid needed you. He needed you and you were the only one who could take care of him now.

With newfound determination, you cleaned your face where a few traitorous tears had slipped down your cheeks and grabbed the medkit. You were going to use the stimshot. After retrieving a small blade from Din’s weapon stash and an empty cup, you scooped the baby up in your arms before sitting on the ground in the middle of the hull.

Using the sharp blade, you carved a tiny hole on the tip of the pneumatic dispenser that held the stimulant, just enough to be able to pour most of the liquid inside the cup, without damaging the pumping mechanism. With just a small dose inside the syringe, you held onto the kid and tried raising one of his sleeves.

When he finally caught on to what you were doing, he screamed and cried even more desperately than before, wiggling in your arms trying to get away. All of a sudden white hot stinging pain erupted in your arms, as the kid quite literally tried to claw his way out of your grasp, prompting you to hold him even tighter, while also trying not to hurt him in the process.

“I know, I know, love” you huffed, your voice strained with pain “but this is for your own good.” you ended your sentence and immediately plunged the syringe in his little arm. 

He screamed, your heart breaking for him, but as the medicine was pumped into his bloodstream he slowly calmed down. 

“Okay, this seems to have worked.” you sighed “Let’s check, shall we?”

The thermometer said that his temperature was indeed going down. Waiting a few minutes you checked again and again, realizing it had indeed lowered quite a bit, but had eventually stagnated on a temperature still high enough to be considered a fever.

“I’m going to have to do this again, alright kid?” he cooed in response, his eyes starting to shut from exhaustion “I’m sorry.”

You very carefully poured another small dose back inside the dispenser and administered it in his arm again, him barely squealing. After checking his temperature again just to be sure you realized it had lowered and he was safe again. He settled in your arms, nuzzling into your collarbone, and instantly fell asleep.

With the kid still in your arms, you carefully scooted back to near Din’s bunk, but you had no strength left in you to actually get up and set him in bed. Instead you just slumped against the wall, your head tilted back as you let out a sigh. A sigh turned into two, which turned into small hiccups, which in turn turned into full blown sobbing. Your whole body shook with the intensity of it, tears of frustration and of tiredness steadily falling and accumulating on the back of your hand where you were biting into in order not to let out any sounds that could potentially wake him up.

You looked down at the green child in your arms, his face so peaceful, if only slightly paler than usual, and smiled softly at him. The sight of him no longer distressed was enough to calm you. Without even attempting to clean the tear tracks from your face, you slumped fully into the wall, letting a much overdue slumber overtake you.

Din slowly made his way back to the Crest, almost dragging his feet. Obviously, the man he had sought out to meet had required him to do some maker awful task to, in the end, not even have the information he asked for.

“Jedi are hard to find these days, Mando. Even harder than mandalorians.” he had said, which made Din clench his fists really hard in order not to just beat the guy to a pulp. But that actually made him stop and rethink his actions. 

With the stunt this weirdo just pulled, he realized he couldn’t trust just anyone in the galaxy. No one other than mandalorians. While, yes, mandalorians were hard to come across nowadays, especially after The Great Purge of Mandalore, maybe they could help find a Jedi somewhere, as mandalorians tended to have lots of important connections all over the galaxy (it saddened him to think that he could no longer rely on his Tribe as he didn’t know where most of them were, and it saddened him even more to admit it was his fault they were scattered around).

So, while very tired and desperate for a shower and to hop into bed, he was very eager to get home to you and the kid and tell you all about his new plan, to search for mandalorians. He already had an idea where to start. Wait. Home. Since when had he begun associating the Crest with home? Before it was just ‘the ship’. Now though…

When the ship came to view he sighed in relief and content. While the ramp lowered, however, he started getting a weird feeling in his chest, that something wasn’t quite right. Stepping inside the Crest only made his worry grow: the hull was a mess, it honestly looked like a hurricane had swept over the place and, worst of all, his weapons cabinet was open. And the place was quiet; it wasn’t usually this quiet in the middle of the day with an over energetic kid around.

He unholstered his blaster and carefully walked around looking for you. He didn’t have to search for long: near his bunk, a few steps away from a mess of things (a blade of his, he noted, next to a spilled over cup of a viscous green fluid), you were slumped against the wall, your knees bent close to your chest, slightly falling to one side, with your head hung down.

Din rushed forward and cupped your cheeks, checking you over for any injuries. The first thing he noticed was that the bags under your eyes looked slightly more pronounced, making your face look more hollow. Then he noticed the scratches on your forearms, blood beginning to dry, accompanied by small blisters. His face scrunched up in worry and anger as he wondered what had happened while he was away, while he wasn’t here to protect you. His fussing over you made you stir.

“Hm, Din?” you asked in a small voice, your eyes cracking open to look at him.

“Hey, Cyar’ika.” he almost whispered back “It’s me. Who did this to you?”

“Wha’…?”

“Who did this” he gripped one of your arms carefully “to you?”

“The kid.” 

That made him still completely.

“The kid?”

“He was ill.”

Only then did he notice the small green lump resting between your torso and knees, carefully cradled against your chest, snoring softly. That’s when it clicked. The kid had probably kept you awake and on your feet for a while looking after him. He probably got fussy and accidentally hurt you while you were trying to take care of him.

“Oh, Cyar’ika. When was the last time you had a proper night of sleep?” 

“Dunno.” your words were slurred “Before you left, I guess.”

Even if you couldn’t see it, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have come back.”

“He needed me.” you said decisively, before rambling almost self-consciously “You were busy, didn’t wan’ worry you. I-” you sighed and gave up trying to explain “He needed me.”

He felt his heart swell on his chest. You exhausted yourself because you put the kid’s safety and well-being, and his own peace of mind, over your own needs. The love he felt for you only grew even more.

“Come on” he said while sliding an arm under your knees and the other behind your back, your head resting on his chestplate “Let’s get you to bed.”

While he carefully laid you down he took note of your attire, his cheeks warming when he realized you were wearing one of his shirts, sleeves rolled halfway up your injured forearms (what can he say, he found forearms of any kind very attractive).

You rolled in your side, your eyes focusing on your surroundings.

“This isn’t my bed.”

“No,” he said, sweeping a stray strand of hair away from your eyes “it’s mine.”

“But-”

“No buts. Sleep.”

You sighed contentedly, snuggling the kid close to your chest, falling asleep almost instantly.

Din stared at the sight before him, a shy smile hanging on his lips under the helmet: you, curled up on his bunk, holding the kid close. It warmed his chest inside.

Yeah, he thought. He was home.

[writingfool001]

Food is Important

Author’s Note: I decided to change the reader's gender to gender neutral since I just write in the second person point of view.

Request: Yes

 Helloooo! May I request headcanons for our lovely Trey, Ruggie and Jamil receiving tasty food daily from their female s/o who's a chef? When asked why, she says that she wants to see them well-fed.

Pairing: Trey, Ruggie, & Jamil x GN!Reader

Warning: GN!Reader

You were taught by your father figure that food was sacred and that you should use up every piece of what your given, even the bones. You were unsure about his teachings and didn’t believe him. After a small voyage going to ruins, you both got stuck on a remote island with limited rations of food and waited for rescue. You remember the constant presence of death and hunger clawing at your empty stomach, there were few occasions when you were ready to die while you waited for a ship. You realized that your teacher had rations and thought about stealing his, only to find out he gave you everything so you could live. After that, you fully trusted him and his teachings, even if you two bickered back and forth, which made you into the skilled chef you were today. He also taught you to respect food and to always feed those in need.  

When you arrived at Ramshackle, you had to make do with what was given to you which led you to exploring the botanical garden and even started our own garden for ingredients. Your food was well known and spoken of well, some say that your food has a healing factor to it. 

Trey 

He has heard and tasted some of your leftovers that you sent with Ace or Deuce. He asked about some of your recipes. He's impressed by your talent and is a bit insecure about his baking until you told him that his baking was spectacular. You both end up exchanging recipes and having small cooking dates as well as shopping dates.  

This man has to take care of his entire dorm and it may look flawless. Helping students with almost anything and listening to them when they need someone to listen. He also makes sure the dorm doesn’t burn down. Even though Riddle works hard as the dorm leader, Trey has his load of work as Vice as well as student. We all know that deep down he is tired and probably collapses from exhaustion. 

He woke up in his bed to a faint savory aroma as he sat up and grabbed his glasses to see a small thermometer with a note attached. Adjusting his glasses, he read your note about how he should take better care of himself and to not let his dormmates push him around as well as him to get better. Sipping the tempting soup, he immediately felt back at home as the nostalgic taste hit his tongue, causing him to relax a bit. He smiled and continued to enjoy your soup. 

For a while, you would always drop off soup or lunch for him to eat which he enjoyed every single one and asked why you were giving him food before hearing you said that you wanted to make sure he was well fed since he was always busy and needed to balance out his sweetness. Congrats, you made Trey blush and break a bit before he heartly laughed at your response then gave you a kiss. 

Ruggie 

He understands your rule of using every piece of your ingredients in some way, considering his past. He understands the feeling and doubts you at first when you offered free food. Usually, he would either figure out his lunch or Leona would just let him use his card to buy lunch.  

There was a day when he had nothing prepared and Leona was off campus for some family reason, he was considering eating dandelions before noticing a small bento box in front of him. Looking around the cafeteria, he noticed you walking away with your own lunch. Who was he to deny free food? He opened it to see a picturesque bento and immediately started drooling at the aroma before finally digging in. One bite and he was in heaven, angels singing and all that. He ate every last bit of that lunch and gave you the container back then the cycle started of Ruggie eating your prepared meals. After a while, he would ask why you were giving him lunch, not that he minded. When you told him he should feed well, he almost got down on one knee.  

You always catch him trying to steal food and always tell him to be patient while you work. He would challenge you to try to make different dishes with strange ingredients. He also found out that you're scary with knives. 

He invited you back for winter break so you could meet his grandmother and share your cooking with her. When you insisted, I cook for his grandmother, he noticed you making a large batch and found it a bit weird before noticing a couple pairs of ears in the window sill. He found it hilarious as all the neighborhood kids crowded around the window, curious about you and the aroma you created. By the time you finished, you brought out some bowls that Ruggie got from Sam's and started serving him and his grandmother before taking some bowls outside to give to some of the families who gathered around. His grandmother told him to make sure to marry and treat you right. 

Jamil 

He's heard about your food through Kalim as well as Ace and Floyd at practice. He has eaten your food and agrees with the praise you receive. Same as Trey, you both have cooking dates and would trade spices. He tried telling you that you didn't have to help with preparing food for a party Kalim invited you too. He would trade lunches with you, giving each other a taste of the other’s food. 

“Take a break,” You answer. “I brought food.” 

There was a time when Kalim came to you and told you that Jamil was slowly overworking himself. You decided to try to persuade Jamil to take a break and you decided to use some powerful tools. Food and love. You made a home meal, packed some up and left for Scarabia, leaving enough food for Grim. You greeted Kalim and a couple of people before heading towards Jamil’s room. And knock before going in to see him sitting at his floor desk with his headphones on. Quietly, you take off your shoes before walking over to set the bag next to him before wrapping your arms around him and kissed his cheek. Surprisingly and thankfully, he did not flip or attack you at that moment as he kept his attention on his homework as he kissed your cheek back. Lovey dovey Jamil, a privilege you get in private. You sat there, hugging his middle as he continued to work until he put his pencil down and turned towards you. 

“Yes, my diamond?” 

“Did Kalim put you up to this?” 

“Not entirely, besides you deserve to be well-fed, and I am not letting you go until you put your homework.” 

He decided to test your threat which lasted a couple hours until he gave up and took a break. He appreciates and cherishes you for being there and reminding him to take a break. He wanted to spend the rest of his life showing all the love he has and taking care of you like you do to each other. 

[mariacallous]

They say, in the end, “history is destiny.” A recent trip to the supermarket reminded me just how true this is. 

I am the daughter of German Jewish immigrants who proudly embraced their new, foreign land when they arrived in New York in 1946. My grandmother, Frau Becker, from Leipzig, Germany, traveled by ship with her family in the aftermath of World War II. She arrived with little more than the clothes on her back — and a few treasured  artifacts to remind her of home, including a trove of recipes. One of which, penned in a careful German cursive script, was for spaetzle. 

Spaetzle, a type of small noodle or dumpling made with fresh eggs, was always accorded a special place at my grandmother’s rectangular wooden table. The preparation of food was such a pre-eminent event in our family, and she made it from scratch, stretched out on a white linen cloth. My mother told me:

“Deine Oma wird jetzt spätzle Machen. Schau dir an, wie sie es macht, damit du weiBt, wie.” (Your grandmother is going to make spaetzle now. Look at how she makes it so that you know how.)

“Bestimmt” (certainly) I replied, although my 8-year-old mind was more focused on the annoying antics of a young male cousin who was taking the head off my Barbie doll.  

I watched my grandmother roll out the spaetzle dough so that it was approximately a half-inch thick, switching seamlessly between French and German as she instructed her children to pay attention to her efforts so that, someday, the dish could be replicated for future generations. Spaetzle was often accompanied by bratwurst or wienerschnitzel, and the adults all drank schnapps with the meal. For a family who’d had more than their share of hardships — my mother and her siblings had hidden in convents, monasteries and farms in the French countryside while most of their extended family perished in the Holocaust – sharing food was a unifying force. But it was mostly German cuisine. As a young child, I craved the things I saw my American counterparts eating: hamburgers, pizza, hot dogs, though none of these ever passed through our doors.

Once I left home for college, my German heritage took a backseat to my burgeoning American identity. While I occasionally found myself thinking in my family’s native tongue, it wasn’t until my late 20s that I accepted that one could not escape one’s history. That despite my attempts to become as American as apple pie, my German roots had shaped me into someone else. And no one represented those roots more than my grandmother. 

By this time, my grandmother had passed away from cancer at age 81, surrounded by her family in Los Angeles. Shortly after her death, my cousin sent me a selection of photos of her. Studying them provoked a sudden urge to learn more about her. Through stories, my mother taught me of her lively intelligence and humble demeanor. That, among her many virtues, she was well-known as an excellent cook. 

On a recent trip to the supermarket, history clapped back at me when my eye alighted on a box of spaetzle in the pasta aisle. With an emotional jolt, I realized that I hadn’t thought about it since I left home for college at 19. I purchased the box, but on the ride home I suddenly heard my grandmother’s accented voice reminding me that real spaetzle is a dish you make yourself.

Once home, I put the box in the cupboard with a guilty conscience, and began to look for my grandmother’s old recipe, lettered in her German cursive script. The ingredients were simple enough: flour, egg and a bit of milk mixed into a pancake-batter-like consistency. Dropping little lumps of the batter into some salted boiling water then ensued. When the lumps finally took form, plumping up into particulate morsels, I drained off the hot water, forcing myself to wait for them to cool before digging in. The first bite reconnected me to my childhood — to the tastes of my bubbe’s kitchen, and the sounds of immigrants talking in their native languages, their home a refuge in this strange, new land. 

The box of spaetzle I bought, which I know I will never use, still sits high upon a kitchen shelf, recalling the architecture of a former life. It reminds me that each of us is knit of an infinite fabric of previous histories; that I cannot separate my identity from my past, but can reside happily in my European and American worlds. When my son nearly trips on a street curb while alighting from our car, the word “Vorsichtig!” (Watch out!) suddenly issues from my throat. I tell him my own stories about the great-grandmother he never knew, who poured love and soul into her food, so that her story is not forgotten. The word “spaetzle” is now a part of his vocabulary, and one day he will make that delicacy, with his bubbe’s blessing, on his own.

[nc-vb]

𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞

Happy Birthday, Kaveh! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ I'm only two hours late in my timezone, sue me!!! just something quick & small for the loml.

pairing -> kaveh x gn!reader

warnings -> none, minor stressors/triggers.

notes -> extremely self-ship coded. totally never had any of this happen to myself; certainly not.

wc -> 2k

Procrastination. Exhaustion. Forgetfulness. Then, last minute responsibilities.

You didn’t mean to leave things to the last minute. Usually, it isn’t so bad that you would leave such a thing to the day before. Thesis writing, yes— guilty as charged; your closest friends and family have watched you scramble and panic to complete and submit your assignments before their due date, have watched you fly out of the library or out the doors of your house with a thick package in hand containing some kind of assignment. Even putting off doctor’s appointments out of sheer laziness for having to get yourself there became a habit— when was the last time you’d gone for a check-up, anyhow?

But this is different, this time. This, you think, is unforgivable. If it had been anything to do with your own birthday where you’d forgotten something, you wouldn’t have paid much mind nor care much about it. But it’s not. It’s Kaveh’s.

This simple, nearly-overlooked fact is why if anyone decides to walk through your front door, they’d find only chaos within your modest home. Your first attempt at baking a vanilla-flavoured cake from scratch had ended in utter failure, having turned the temperature of your oven one hundred degrees higher than you’d meant to, while the second became due to having slipped on a drop of cake batter and sending the newly-filled cake pan flying through your kitchen and into the brand new diamond-shaped crystal vials you’d purchased to put various types of home-brewed essential oils into. Suffice to say, the strength of your throw meant there were no survivors. Oh… The flowers left out to dry outside had been forgotten about in the meanwhile, and it’d taken only a short sun shower for your plans to make potpourri with them to become completely scrapped.

Broom in hand, you mindlessly sweep up shards of glass from the broken vials into a pile in the middle of the floor.

Anything that could have possibly gone wrong, went wrong. After all the time that it took to find all of the ingredients, all of the flowers for the potpourri and the oils, and all in the nick of time to bring over to Lambad’s for Kaveh’s surprise party— what can you even tell him? Knowing Kaveh, he’d still try to placate you and calm you down when you finally tried to explain the situation to him, that the only reason your efforts ran out had been because you forgot it was his birthday.

Your movements are quick to end the longer you find yourself stewing on things. Because everything really should have been foolproof once you had a plan in place: Cyno and Tighnari would swing by to collect the cake and your gifts and bring them along to the tavern, and when Kaveh was due to arrive a half an hour later under the ruse of you taking him out for a simple dinner, he’d arrive there, pleasantly surprised by the faces of his friends and by the cake you’d painstakingly made. It would be an entertaining night of food and drink and friends, and by the end of it, Kaveh and yourself would return to your own home rather than Alhaitham’s, an arrangement neither of them minded to have arranged.

At least the cake will have made it, you say, glancing to the dome-covered thing resting on your counter. Covered in berries of various types and split through the middle and filled with a vanilla custard, it awaits the arrival of your General Mahamatra and Forest Watcher friends. And when they finally do, surprised is barely the correct word to describe their expressions.

“… under… normal circumstances, I would’ve thought up a joke to try and cheer you up,” Cyno admits quietly, his one visible amber eye flitting about the entirety of your kitchen. “I don’t think this is one of them.”

Tighnari sighs almost exasperatedly at him. “Well, I’m glad to hear you at least know how to tell the difference.”

“Sorry for the mess,” you say from your place at your dining table, a hand still raised in greeting from when they first walked in. “It’s all yours, the cake.” You gesture to the damned thing sitting a few feet away from you. “Thanks for coming to get it.”

“Sure, ______,” Tighnari says. You watch him carefully tiptoe around the piles of glass and batter splotches in order to reach, and just as cautiously lift it from the counter to secure it in his arms.

“Are you sure you don’t want any help cleaning up?” Cyno asks.

“If these were normal circumstances, I might’ve said “yes” to your first offer,” you start to explain, “but since they aren’t, and given the fact that I’m probably going to start crying the second you both turn around to leave, no. I’m sure I don’t want help.”

The two exchange a look with the other, their mouths curved down into frowns.

“After I’m done throwing myself my own party of a most piteous kind, we’ll meet you for Kaveh’s.”

“All right, then,” Tighnari says. “Deep breaths, okay? You're alright.”

“Y-Yeah.” And just as you’d predicted, the second they leave, salty liquid is quick to gather along your waterline and completely spill over and down your cheeks. “Damn it.”

Just once, could something go right? If not for you, then for the things you do for others? You’d swear you’d been either cursed in another life or just saddled with an unfair amount of negative karma in this one, and would give anything for just a smooth ride of a day.

“Deep breaths,” you repeat to yourself, voice thick from your tears, using the broom to sweep up the piles into a dust pan. “Deep breaths, deep breathing, c’mon…”

You manage to tidy up with kitchen with less than a minute to spare; in wiping down the last of the mess off the counter, your front door clicks open, swinging creakily on one of the three hinges and revealing the man of the hour.

“Ah, ______! I’m back.” Per his typically routine, Kaveh rests Mehrak on the miniature settee sitting by the door, hangs your house key on the hook above it, and slides off his flats before moving quickly over to you. Before you can even lift your arms all the way, your movements still delayed, Kaveh wraps his around yours, pulling you tight into his warm chest and placing a lengthy kiss against the crown of your head. “I missed you.”

“Welcome home,” you say, voice muffled by his scarf. “Missed you, too.”

For a moment, he hums, before forcing you away from him to examine you.

“What’s wrong?” he insists. Slowly, you shake your head.

“It isn’t anything special… Just that the things I wanted to get done today didn’t… exactly get done.”

“Oh.” By the look on his face, you can tell he’s trying to stifle his relief. “Were they important things?”

“… yes. I’ll try again tomorrow, but I’m just… still a little overwhelmed by it to go into detail right now.” You sigh heavily, only to collapse back against him. “I really missed you so much.”

Softly, Kaveh chuckles, and gently squeezes you to him. “Thank you. Whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here. Okay?” You nod.

“… it’ll definitely have to wait until later, though. Don’t want to ruin the party’s mood before we get ther��” you instantly seize on the spot, sleep-heavy eyes quick to widen at your blunder.

Sensing you having gone stiff within his hold, Kaveh pulls back and smiles bashfully at you.

“D-Don’t panic!” he says. “I’ve known about it for a little while now. Ah, w-well… sometimes, you talk in your sleep.”

“Ah. Oh.” Damn it. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, either.” He plants another kiss against your forehead. “Surprise party or a regular one— I’m happy, regardless. Besides! I’m a good enough actor.”

You scoff playfully at him. “I’m glad I’m here to be able to tell you that you’re really not— everyone’ll know, instantly.”

He huffs. “You don’t believe me, huh?”

“Alhaitham will know instantly,” you decidedly correct. Kaveh purses his lips.

“… okay, fine. Alhaitham will know.” His next breath is harsh. “He’s really coming, too, huh?”

“Now that’s how you should act when you walk in,” you muse. “You’re really that surprised by this?”

“Well… it’s just… it’s Alhaitham.”

“And?”

“A-And—””The two of you were once good friends,” you say, interrupting his lame attempt at reasoning with you. “Just because he’s always short with you or sarcastic, it’s not for a lack of caring. You two being polar opposites isn’t a bad thing. Hm…” An unnameable expression rises onto your face. “If not for me in the picture, I’d have bet you two would eventually start dat—”

“Argh, this again?” You giggle into the hand he’d lifted to cover your mouth. “Anyway… I suppose we should be going soon, or he’ll have another reason to get sarcastic.” Placing a kiss upon his palm and successfully flustering him, you grin.

“Can’t have the birthday boy late for his own birthday, right?”

“Right.” Hand in yours, he leads the way back to the front door, only to pause and look to the kitchen wall. Your eyes widen at the batter splatter you’d missed. “Uh…”

“L-Later, okay?”

As foretold, Kaveh’s acting is below average, but as you both agreed, only Alhaitham is the only one to notice. Arms folded over his chest and legs crossed in his seat, he sends a raised eyebrow and a flat expression in your direction.

To your relief, everyone who had responded to your invitations sent out a month ago had been able to make it.

Cyno and Tighnari and Collei had easily been definite “yes’s”, their answers sent back the very next day.

Alhaitham, you didn’t have to question, despite his response of “if my schedule isn’t full, I’ll make an appearance”.

Dehya and Candace had been a long shot. With Dehya and her commissions, she’d been a little difficult to track down, but eventually, you’d managed to pin her at a desert Eremite outpost during a reprieve. Candace, you knew might’ve been the only flat-out “no” due to her duties at Aaru Village, and had even said she may not be able to send a proper response in time.

Nilou decidedly tracked you down to give you an in-person response, and even tell you she’d work on a dance just for Kaveh.

The Traveler and Paimon, who were only bondable thanks to their connection with the Adventurer’s Guild, managed to find you on the streets of Sumeru at the tail-end of their own commission to tell you they’d be sure to make it.

But certainly, the most surprising appearance goes to the Vahumana representative— Hat Guy. Quite obviously, his name had been a moniker, but even still, you can’t help but to laugh every time you have to say it. Okay, maybe he noticed Kaveh’s poor acting, too. He looks young, but still as though nothing could escape such watchful eyes.

After the day you’d had, yes; it really is such a relief. Even the cake made it in one piece! you happily realize, spotting it over Collei’s shoulder.

You drag your eyes away from the scene and focus them specifically onto Kaveh. He’s glowing. You’d argue that he always does, even on his darkest days. Golden and ruby red— he’s truly dazzling, so much so that you find yourself squinting.

“______?” he calls, and perhaps not too non-suddenly. “Are you alright?”

“I get to spend the birthday of the man I love with them,” you answer proudly, returning the few gentle squeezes he gives your hand with a tug of your own. The skin at the corner of his eyes crinkle when he grins. “I'm great. Happy Birthday, Kaveh.”

@c-a-v-a-l-r-y @leis-stuff @auraee @rvisn @plinkuro @vcvoxu @minty-vxnilla @ChaoticHearts-19 @stygianoir @imeanwatever @N-akaharachuuya @katelynwithpaint @sadflightlessbirds @sunnyf4lls @mydickisbigger @endlessmari @chocogi @hunterluv @kwelibeeery @okadahimiko @junephantom @kom4ya @barbatosfavouritenun @amilium @whorerificstuff @swivy123

© nc-vb/niicevibe 2022-2023 please don’t repost! reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

ROUND 1 MATCH 13

Chrom propaganda:

“He eats oranges with the peel still on, he's an absolute himbo. Also the writers accidentally made his daughter canonically trans so he definitely supports trans rights. And technically you can only marry him if you play as female Robin but their dynamic is still just as romantic if you play as male Robin (they literally call each other their other half and m!Robin and Chrom have a valentine's day duo unit in the gatcha, and in the anthology manga m!Robin asks Chrom to make polygamy legal so he can also marry Chrom's wife and they can be a family) so most people play the game with the gay mod so they can still marry him as a guy. He's incredibly stupid ("yeah, let's set all our ships on fire then walk through a volcano, you're so smart, Robin" "I know you've had prophetic visions about killing me and our daughter came from the future to warn us it would happen but I'm sure THIS TIME it won't because of the power of our bonds") but also really sweet. In the summer DLC they're fighting on a beach and when he sees Robin get excited over a weird creature they found he immediately forgets about the battle and starts trying to make a bunch of crafts (and failing) and cooking food (and failing again) and writing "Chrom and Robin were here" in the sand so that Robin could have some nice beach memories. I'm obsessed with this man”

Corsac propaganda:

“Huntsman concerned with preserving the ecosystem and obtaining potion ingredients in a sustainable manner. Pro-level survival skills and non-existent social skills. Easily flustered by flirting, but will excitedly teach you how to distinguish animal droppings.”

[cosmeticsandcontrollers]

I felt the urge to write a short story about a fat, trans, neurodivergent wizard. Enjoy.

******

Ira was working in a flow state, feeling the cold marble pestle in his sweaty palm as he ground beetle wings down into a fine powder. He began adding other ingredients from memory, flicking open dozens of drawers with his left hand and dropping minerals, leaves, and animal byproducts in the crystal bowl in his right. Ira had memorized most of the hundreds drawers in the apothecary cabinet that made up his workrooms back wall, give or take a few that contained expensive ingredients he rarely used. He hummed along to the softly playing music, his mousy-gray hair tied half up to keep it out of his eyes as he worked. Ira found that music could be a powerful conductor of his mental energy, but if it was too loud he became overly sensitive to his surroundings.

Once his basket was brimming with potion components, he used his smartwatch to start his default work playlist, aptly titled “witchy shit”. He gravitated back to the mortar and pestle, dropping in tree roots, owl bones, dried mushrooms, and limestone one at a time until the mixture was a fine, light brown powder. Ira raised the jewelers loupe on his necklace to his eye, inspecting the powder for any clumps and pulverizing it a few more times before calling it good, with a decisive nod to Stella, the box turtle crawling across his massive desk.

He pulled out his pocket grimoire and his bifocals, hanging on the jeweled chain around his neck. Ira double checked the next steps to turn the powder into an oil, absently scratching the hair along his jawline as he muttered to himself. Recently he had gotten a little lax with his ratios, and the herbalist wasn’t pleased with his recent blood draw, but told him that as long as he doesn’t notice any concerning symptoms he could continue homebrewing for the foreseeable future. He left the bifocals on and hefted a cauldron, no bigger than a crockpot, onto his desk along with a large bottle of cottonseed oil. He emptied about half the bottle into the cauldron before tossing it back into the cabinet and put a trivet under the cauldron. When Ira traced the rim of the cauldron with his fingertip, it became surrounded by an orange and blue flame. While complex spells required ritual, technique, energy, and time, elemental magic was as snapping his fingers.

Ira threw in the rest of the ingredients with a flourish, stirring the cauldron a few times with a metal spoon. He set a timer on his phone, and stepped into the kitchen to scavenge for some much needed carbs. Ira had been so focused on his potion that he forgot to eat. He returned to the workroom with a plate teetering high with a leftover sandwich, cubed cheese, grapes, and a ripe juicy strawberry for Stella. Ira somehow managed to sit sideways in the oversized swing-back armchair in the corner of the room, framed with his dozens of plants. Some of these plants boasted bright colors and pretty flowers, while other seemed to ooze sap and other unidentifiable goo that the young wizard used for his potions.

Ira down his food quickly, swiping through a Timbr while he took the last few bites of his sandwich. He no longer put much stock in the app, but it was a source of validation he was drawn to when he needed a pick me up. Sometimes he matched with the odd guy who was perfect, but only in town for a week. Or an older man who was suspiciously unavailable except for a few late evenings a month. There were plenty of guys his age in the college town Ira found home, but it was so hard to actually meet someone in person these days.

Even Ira preferred to do his work anonymously. He filled orders online, taking payment via his banking app, packing his potions meticulously, and shipping them off to a distant, unknown client. Most of his orders were simple chemical compounds used in lab work, while he had a separate line of communication for other, more occult audiences. Nothing sinister, but potions could help bolster or manipulate elemental magic in more complex ways. Sometimes he also assisted the herbalist with poultices if their apprentice was sick for discounted medical care.

*PING!*

Ira’s phone chimed, letting him know that some lucky bastard had swiped right on his profile. A message quickly followed from a faceless profile:

“Best of both worlds… ;)”

That’s enough of that. With a frustrated huff, Ira locked his phone and tossed it across the room onto a thick pillow. Ira’s watch chimed as the timer he set earlier went off, and he wiped his hands on his belly, dirtying the faded band tee as he got up to cool the potion.

He stepped up to the cauldron, nearly tripping on Stella as she went to town on her prized berry, and rubbed his hands together. Quickly, he tapped his fingertips to the cauldron and pulled back, extinguishing the fire immediately and sucking the heat out of the pitch black metal. Ira was left with a cool, slightly yellow oil.

He picked a thimble sized bottle out of the bin at his hip, heating it up for a few seconds to sterilize. He did the same with a fresh spoon as well, and ladled the oil into the bottle, corking it with a rubber cap that could be pierced without letting all of the potion drip out. With a fine tip pen he marked “boy juice” and “September 23”. He would get a month’s worth of doses out of this bottle.

While Ira could do things the magic-neutral way and just pick up his testosterone from a pharmacy, the herbalists weren’t quite sure how their everyday testosterone cypionate would mix with magic-positive blood. This is the way trans wizards, sorcerers, and witches have been making their HRT for millenniums. Ira also liked the independence; he didn’t have to worry about any laws coming between him and his healthcare. While the herbalists did have a grand council, they gave guidance, not mandates.

Ira got ready for his weekly ritual. He placed his potion on his altar next to a lit candle, undressed, and hopped in the shower. He took all the time he needed, exfoliating every limb, washing his face, and letting his long wavy hair down to detangle and deep condition. With every motion, he thought about how much he loved his body. His square jaw, his muscles, his round and furry belly and tree trunk thighs. After rinsing off and towel drying he oiled his beard and hair, securing it with a claw clip. He pulled on a fresh pair of boxer briefs with a comfortable packer, looking at himself in the mirror with pride. Ira deserved to feel good about himself.

He pulled out his syringes, needles, and rubbing alcohol, resting them on his sterilized work desk. As his work room was better suited to magic than his bedroom, he did all of his shots under the skylight. He washed his hands thoroughly and held the small bottle in both.

“I deserve to take care of my body. I am the only one who can control my body. I mold my clay as I see fit,” Ira said, feeling the bottle hum underneath his fingertips before settling back down.

Ira sterilized the rubber cap using an alcohol wipe, used a syringe and a large needle to draw the correct dosage of the potion, and replaced the large needle with a smaller one. Using the drawing needle’s cap, he made a small round indent on a bare spot on his belly, pinching it slightly to pull the fat away from muscle.

As Ira removed the cap and positioned it over the sterilized circle, he closed his eyes and focused more on the music playing from the speakers. This part fucked with his mind the most. The longer he waited the worst it would be. “In” he thought to himself, and he opened his eyes to see the needle buried in his injection site with no pain. He pushed down on the plunger, waited a few seconds, and removed the syringe. He wouldn’t need a bandage, such a small wound would heal instantly.

Ira felt a warm wave of pride course through his veins as the potion absorbed into his body.

[conchilious]

Incorrect use of an Easy Bake Oven

(Cross posted from Ao3; I'm neither good at writing or writing bsd characters, so sorry if they're a little ooc :((, Also Also, I wrote this instead of sleeping because I couldn't just sleep this idea away, so uh, yeah, enjoy :3)

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

Dumpster diving. Chuuya personally couldn't stand it, Mostly the smells and often times the sight of the trash was just God awful. But what's something he hated more than dumpster diving? Osamu Dazai. Otherwise known as the shitty mackerel that he'd personally would like to throw off a bridge.

Yet here he was, leaning against a dumpster, all while Dazai decided he'd go dumpster diving in hopes that someone threw something that would kill him. The thought of that made his eyes roll, but he went anyways to make sure he doesn't actually end up dying.

*

The sound of clinking bottles and paper being shoved could be heard, yet the stench of what Chuuya assumed to be alcohol and rotten food could be smelt, making his stomach wrench in a not so good way. With Dazai's coat being half hazardly left on the dirty concrete of the alleyway.

"Hey blockhead, When are you gonna get out of there? It smells awful over there." Chuuya says, grimacing at the smell, holding back the urge to gag.

"Hmm…I dunno" Dazai says in his typical tone, it made Chuuya want to punch the hell out of him. "Maybe we'll find some goodies in here~!" He says, poking his head out of the dumpster to grin deviously at Chuuya, only to be met by a scoff.

"You're disgusting, you know that? I swear I can see the filth on your disgusting face." He says, covering his nose, Dazai laughs as a result.

"Wimp. Real Men know how to get dirty!" He says a little too confidently for Chuuya's taste as he practically dives back into the trash. Chuuya could feel his eye twitch as he groans in annoyance, he could just leave, but he wouldn't, a little part of him was curious to see if Dazai would find anything worth nabbing.

*

After about a good 10 minutes went by, Chuuya could here a gasp from within the dumpster. "Now THIS is a gem!" Dazai says as he pops back up with a roughed up, yet unopened box.

Chuuya raises a brow. "Uhm, what the heck is it?" He asks, clearly not as stoked about said box as Dazai is. Dazai hops out of the Dumpster, holding the box like it was the greatest treasure known to mankind.

"It's one of the greatest inventions ever created." He says, holding the box up, Chuuya was expecting something a little more… majestic? No, maybe more interesting. He gives an unamused stare, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. "…An easy bake oven..? Isn't that a toys for little girls?" He asks, clearly uninterested in it. Dazai gives an overdramatic gasp, feigning offense.

"What? No way! Don't tell me you've never had a sweet delectable treat made by an easy bake oven!" He says, holding the box to his chest, his smirk widening.

"We can head back to my place to test this bad boy out if you want." He says confidently, almost like it was a honor for him to suggest it. Chuuya raises a brow in mock offense.

"You mean your shitty shipping container that has no air circulation whatsoever? Yeah no thanks." He crossed his arms, watching as Dazai set his free hand over his chest, feigning sadness.

"Ouch, you wound me, Chibi.." he says in a dramatized sad tone, his shoulders dropping a little. "As if your messy apartment that you definitely haven't cleaned is any better?" He says, smirking.

Chuuya scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Atleast I have a window." He says as he huffs in annoyance. "And besides how do we even know it'll still work or if the ingredients that usually come with it aren't y'know, expired? Or covered in maggots?" He says, raising a brow. Dazai gives a shit-eating grin. "That's the fun part, we're gonna find out." His grin widens.

Chuuya sighs, shaking his head, knowing fully well that this was going to go awfully.

*

As soon as they got to Chuuya's apartment, Dazai made a beeline for the main room, not even bothering to take his shoes off, which usually would annoy Chuuya, but he can't really be talking when his apartment is a mess.

Dazai practically rips the box apart, taking out the easy bake oven with excitement plastered on his face, Chuuya doesn't think he's seen the boy so excited about something so small. He says down across from Dazai, the easy bake oven in between the two. With Dazai looking over the instructions.

"So…how do we get this thing to work?" Chuuya asks as he picks up one to the ingredient packets, looking for an expiration date of any kind. Dazai shrugs. "I think it needs batteries..?" Chuuya looks up at him, raising a brow. "What do you mean 'I think'? I thought this junk worked like a damn toaster!" He says, sounding almost dumbfounded as he went back to inspecting the several accessories that came with the oven.

Dazai looks at the instructions page, looking it over again. "These instructions are in a different language-" he says, looking at it like it was a stray dog on the street. Chuuya looks back up at Dazai, his eye twitching as he took the instructions and simply swapped the sides. "Turn the page. You were reading the English instructions you dimwit." He says in annoyance. Dazai lets out a little 'oh' as he went back to reading the instructions.

Eventually, after scrounging around Chuuya's apartment, they found some batteries. "Do you think there will work?" Chuuya questions, raising a brow as he watches Dazai practically shove the batteries in, not even bothering to screw the battery cover up all the way. "Of course it will, when have I ever been wrong?" He says confidently. "A lot of things actually." Chuuya says deadpanned. Dazai lets out a 'tch' sound. "My condolences then, because I think you're very much incorrect." He says with a giggle and a grin. Chuuya scoffs, watching Dazai plug the oven in.

"Okay so now what? Do we just do normal baking shit orrr…?" Chuuya asks looking down that the ingredient packets. "Because these aren't good, infact they're expired by a month." Dazai shrugs. "Let's us 'em anyways." Which was immediately met with a "Hell no." From Chuuya. "What? Why not?" He asks, sounded offended. "Because I want to try some to, without ingesting something that's definitely a biohazard." He says sarcastically.

"Well myyyy bad, I assumed you didn't want to try any, I did drag it out the trash after all." Dazai says, crossing his arms in a sassy manner. Chuuya scoffs. "Well I'm curious, you talk about this shitty oven like it's some sort of godsend." Chuuya says, pointing at the oven while giving an unamused stare at Dazai. "That's cause it is!" He says, patting the oven. "Right, whatever you say, Dazai." Dazai says as he makes a mocking hand motion, pretending it's Chuuya talking as he makes a poor excuse for a poker face, acting as if he isn't sitting in front of the person he's mocking. "You know I can see you doing that, stupid." He says, his eye twitching. Dazai smirks. "I know." He says smugly. He was definitely messing with Chuuya on purpose, and it was working.

"I'm going to throw this stupid oven at you, shithead." Chuuya threatens. "No you won't." Dazai says, He knew Dazai wasn't bluffing, but he assumed that wouldn't actually throw the oven itself, maybe a pillow or whatever was in his arms reach. "Yes I will." Chuuya says, eyeing the oven. "Prove it. Do it you won't, you wimp-" Dazai says as Chuuya immediately chucks the oven at him, obviously not hard enough to do actual damage, but enough to make him fall backwards.

"Rude ass." Dazai says, staying on his back and holding his forehead. Staring at the ceiling. "I said I was gonna do it." Chuuya said, crossing his arms. "Fair enough." He says in defeat. Chuuya smirks. "Are you sorry for doubting me?" He says smugly, staring down at Dazai. Dazai hums for a moment, setting his free hand on his chin. "Hm…nope" he says smugly back with a smirk. "Moron." Chuuya says deadpanned. "Asshole" Dazai replies back.

Dazai sat up, holding the oven. "I think you broke it" he says, frowning slightly. "Whoops." Chuuya says sarcastically. "You don't mean that." Dazai says looking up at Chuuya. "Yeah, that's kinda the point, idiot."

*

The rest of the day was spent trying to make a very much broken easy bake oven to work, though they ended up throwing it off a bridge into the lake to see how big of a splash it could make, seeing as it had no use anymore thanks to a certain someone.

[cataztrophi]

The Thing With Feathers

Ship: Kravitz/Taako

Words: 2,603

CW: food

Read below or on AO3

Taako knew that Kravitz was having nightmares. He could tell from his red, puffy eyes and the exhaustion that hung about his shoulders like a cloak, not to mention, well, who wouldn’t be having nightmares eighteen months after what they’d been through? So when he was startled awake in the middle of the night by Kravitz sitting bolt upright in bed, he knew why.

“Babe? You alright?” His hand went to Kravitz’s shoulder, but he felt Kravitz flinch at his touch and he quickly withdrew. Taako couldn’t blame him. He remembered nights on the Starblaster after a particularly difficult cycle when even Lup’s comforting hands on his back made him shudder, unable to dismiss the image of the Hunger’s oily tendrils creeping up his body. Instead, Taako slid out of bed, pulled on his robe, and held out his hand.

“Come into the kitchen with me.”

Kravitz looked up at him, surprised. Taako felt a twinge in his chest at the haunted look that still lingered in his eyes. Still, he held firm. “Well? Come on, my fella.”

Kravitz took his hand and let himself be led into the next room. As soon as they were in the kitchen Taako was all business, his years of experience taking over. He let Kravitz settle himself on a stool at the counter while he bustled around the room, grabbing bowls and spoons and ingredients and preparing his mise-en-place. He had never truly let go of the showmanship he had cultivated during his years with Sizzle It Up, and he slipped easily back into the old patter.

“Now, watch closely, Kravitz. I’m about to teach you how to make the perfect pancakes every time.”

“Pancakes?” Kravitz asked, seeming to rouse from his stupor for the first time. “Taako, it’s three in the morning.”

“Exactly. It’s the perfect time to start making them. By the time you’re done cooking those little sons of bitches it’s seven o’ clock anyway.”

Kravitz still looked skeptical.

“Okay, listen.” Taako began measuring out flour into a ceramic mixing bowl. “Lup and I had a lot of nightmares when we were kids. Not sure why. But when we did, our aunt would make us pancakes, no matter what time it was. And her pancakes were the best. So we’d eat like, a mountain of pancakes and she’d tell us stories about when she was a kid, and it turns out when you eat enough pancakes your body will just knock you the fuck out, probably to stop you from actually exploding. Here, start stirring this while I heat up the pan. And then when we got older and we started traveling around, whenever one of us had a bad dream, the other one would get up and make pancakes, and then it was like, a thing. Bad dream pancakes, or whatever. So that’s what we’re doing now.”

The faintest smile crossed Kravitz’s face as he stared into the bowl of pancake batter he was dutifully stirring. “Bad dream pancakes?”

“We were like, twelve. Give us a break.” He took the spoon from Kravitz’s hand and gave the batter an experimental stir. “Looks good! Now how’s your wrist strength?”

“My–what?”

“I’m gonna need you to whip some cream for me.” He grabbed a copper bowl from the counter and zapped it with a quick ray of frost before upending a cup of rich cream into it, followed by a tablespoon of sugar. “Now you just whisk it…like… so. It’s all in the wrist, bubelah.” He winked. “Alright, your turn.”

He handed over the bowl and whisk and watched Kravitz’s first awkward attempt to copy him.

“Not quite.” He placed his hand on top of Kravitz’s, guiding him until he settled into a pattern of steady, swift circles. “There you go, babe! Now just keep doing that for ten more minutes.”

He ignored Kravitz’s protests and scooped up the bowl of pancake batter. The first spoonful made the softest hiss as he dropped it onto the pan. Perfect. While he waited for one side to cook, he glanced towards Kravitz to check on his progress with the whipped cream. Kravitz was staring intently down at the bowl as he whisked, and with each rotation Taako heard him counting under his breath: one-two-three, one-two-three…. He was whisking in the three-quarter time, like the steps of a waltz.

“Kravitz?”

The beat of his hands faltered as he looked up at Taako. “Yes?”

“You know I love you, right?”

A smile broke across Kravitz’s face, the first true, bright one since they’d woken up. To Taako, it felt like seeing the sunrise after a storm. “I know. I love you, too.”

“Pssh, who wouldn’t.” He tossed his hair back from his face, partly to keep it away from the pan and partly for effect. “Now, the mistake that most people make when they’re flipping a pancake is they get too aggressive with it. You really only need to toss it gently. I tried explaining that to Magnus once and we had bits of pancake falling from the ceiling for two weeks.”

With one deft flick of his wrist, Taako flipped the pancake and set the pan back down on the stove. The upwards-facing side was a perfect golden brown.

“Now let me check on that whipped cream.” He practically danced over to the counter and dipped his finger into the bowl, then raised it to his lips. “Taste: good, texture: perfect. Well done, babe!”

Kravitz smiled again, but Taako could see the restless dread creeping back in behind his eyes. He turned back to the stove with worry knotting in his stomach.

"The biggest trick with pancakes is getting the consistency of the batter right," he said, forcing a little more cheer into his voice. He was practically babbling now, and he knew it, but what else could he do? He needed to distract Kravitz somehow.

Still, he knew that eventually Kravitz would want to talk about it. Taako did not want to talk about it. As far as he was concerned, the best thing any of them could do was move on and forget the shit they'd been dragged through. Wonderland? He didn't know her. The Hunger? Doesn't ring a bell. Time loops that all ended in his horrible, painful death? Must suck to be that guy.

"Shit!" Taako was pulled out of his reverie by the smell of burning food. The pancake was beginning to smoke.

"Are you alright?" Kravitz was half-standing, unsure what to do.

Taako sighed. "Yeah, it's fine. Anyway, you always fuck up the first pancake. Ask anyone."

He flipped the blackened pancake into the garbage and poured another spoonful of batter into the pan. “Now, let’s talk syrup. Magnus swears that Raven’s Roost makes the best, and tragically I have to agree with him. Some people mix cinnamon into it, or butter, but really all you need is a little rum to give it that zip.”

He rambled on until he had a full batch of pancakes, then set the plate triumphantly in front of Kravitz alongside the promised rum-infused syrup and the bowl of whipped cream. “Now eat up, we’re about to have a bunch more.”

Kravitz smiled weakly. “Thanks, Taako. I’m… not sure I’m hungry just yet.”

Taako shrugged. “Okay, but they’re gonna get cold.” He turned back towards the stove, but Kravitz stopped him.

“Taako, wait-”

“Yeah?” He watched Kravitz’s face contort into a grimace as he debated what he was about to say.

“Can we… talk for a minute?”

Taako’s shoulders slumped, but he tried to keep his tone light. “For sure! What do you want to talk about?” He propped himself up on his elbows at the kitchen counter facing Kravitz.

Kravitz frowned down at his pancakes for a long moment before answering. “I… I thought the dreams would stop by now. But I can’t stop thinking about being trapped in the Astral Plane, and how… helpless I felt.”

Taako shifted his feet nervously. He felt like his heart was climbing up into his throat, and any moment he would choke on it.

“I didn’t know where you were,” Kravitz continued. “And when the… the Hunger… you know… it was like suffocating in these waves of- of cold and emptiness and….” He took a deep, shuddering breath, composing himself. Taako thought he might throw up. “And I didn’t know if the same thing was happening to you, and then I heard that Song, and then I knew that it had happened to you, for- for decades, and this thing was coming after you, and I still couldn’t get to you, and I keep thinking about how I could have lost you that day, or- or so many days before that–”

“But you didn’t!” Taako broke in. His heart was pounding, much too fast for a guy making pancakes. “We’re fine, babe! We’re both fine!”

“I know that, but-”

“Anyway, it doesn’t help to keep thinking about it. I mean, maybe that’s why you keep dreaming about it.”

“I don’t know how to stop.” His eyes were pleading. He needed Taako, and Taako knew it, but he didn’t know how to be there. All he could think about was the walls closing in, and the way his heart was hammering in his chest, and how his breathing was coming too fast until it became almost a pant. “I thought maybe if I talked about it-”

Taako pushed himself back from the counter and began pacing around the kitchen, desperately searching for anything to diffuse the bomb ticking away inside him. “I’m sorry, Krav, I can’t talk about this.”

Kravitz frowned. “But why don’t you need to talk about it? Don’t you think about it? Taako, I know you’ve dreamed about it, too.”

It was too much. The wall Taako had so carefully constructed around those memories, the one he rebuilt after every nightmare and silent, shuddering panic attack, came crashing down. “Of course I dream about it, Krav! I dream about every fucking– If I let myself start thinking about it I’d never stop. I just can’t, Krav, I can’t– fighting the Hunger, year after year, never making any progress, or… or fucking Wonderland, watching those liches carve off little pieces of us, and then that rift opening, and seeing you, and not knowing– wondering if maybe you–” The tears came suddenly, surprising even Taako as his voice broke. Before he could stop himself they were rolling down his cheeks, his shoulders shaking as he fought to hold back sobs.

“Oh, Taako.” And then Kravitz’s arms were around him, pressing him into his chest, holding him up as he fell apart. Dimly, he registered the sensation of something dripping into his hair, and he realized Kravitz was crying too. He wrapped his arms around Kravitz’s chest as securely as he could. I’m here, he hoped he was saying. I’m fucked up but I’m here.

He didn’t know how long it took before his sobs turned into careful, slow breaths that still hitched in his throat every few seconds. It might have been five minutes, or an hour. “Fuck,” he sniffed, finally. “I was supposed to be making you feel better.”

Kravitz let out a breath that could almost be a laugh. “It’s okay. We’re both kind of a mess.”

Taako laughed, too. “Just a couple of genu-wine messes.”

“Hey.” Kravitz's voice was so gentle. Something in that softness compelled Taako to look up, into his face. When he did, Kravitz offered him a hesitant smile. “There’s no one I'd rather be a mess with.”

Taako let out a long breath, the first one he'd gotten through without that awful post-cry hitch, and buried his face in Kravitz’s chest again. “Same here.”

They stayed that way for another moment, holding each other up, until the restful silence was broken by Kravitz’s stomach rumbling. Taako snorted and wiped his eyes one last time before letting go of Kravitz and stepping away.

“You ready for those pancakes now?”

Kravitz grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I- that sounds good.”

Kravitz ate at the counter while Taako continued cooking, then joined him with the second batch, leaving his mage hand to do the work of pouring and flipping. While they ate, they talked; not about the trials of their past, but plans for their future. Other people must be struggling, too, they reasoned, and some of them might be ready to talk about it. Taako suggested Magnus or Barry, or even Merle. Lup, he knew, would be a no-go. Kravitz nodded along, grimacing a little at the thought of what a heart-to-heart with Merle might entail. By the time Kravitz put their plates in the sink, they had, if not a plan, then at least a place to start.

“You should talk to someone too, you know,” Kravitz said, coming up behind Taako and wrapping his arms around his waist. “I know you don't want to, but just… consider it, okay?”

Taako sighed, leaning against Kravitz. “Yeah, okay. But right now we've got a bigger problem.”

“What’s that?”

He gestured to the stove, where his mage hand was still frantically cooking. “I think I overshot the measurements a little.”

“Huh. Well, Barry and Lup should be getting off shift soon, do you want to call them and see…?”

Taako nodded. “Good idea. But… I'll call them, okay? You look dead on your feet. Heh.”

Kravitz smiled ruefully, even as he struggled to keep his eyes open. “Yeah… I think you were right about the pancakes.”

“Taako knows his stuff, babe.” He turned his head and kissed Kravitz on the cheek. “Now go lay down. I'll talk to Lup.”

Kravitz nodded and headed into the living room as Taako retrieved his stone of farspeech.

“Hey, Lup?”

The answer came immediately. “Taako? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Listen, I have like a shitload of pancakes here, do you and Barry want to come over?”

“Are you having nightmares again?”

“Nah, not me this time.”

“Ah, poor Kravitz.”

“Yeah…. He's resting now.”

Lup chuckled. “Bad dream pancakes claim another victim.”

Taako was silent for a moment, that choking nausea threatening to overwhelm him again as he chose his next words. “Hey, Lup?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“I think…. I think we need to talk about some stuff. About, you know… all the shit that happened. I think we- I think I need to work through some stuff.”

There was a long silence on the other end, and Taako’s stomach continued to twist itself into non-Euclidian shapes until Lup sighed heavily. “Can I have some pancakes first?”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Hell yeah.”

“Rad. See you in a bit, then!”

Taako hung up and took a deep breath to untwist some of the knots in his stomach. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

He headed into the living room and found Kravitz lying on the couch, dozing. Taako brushed the hair out of his face and bent down to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. As he did, Kravitz stirred a little, and he caught Taako's arm.

“Stay,” he said, his voice groggy.

“The kitchen looks like a pancake bomb went off, my man.”

Kravitz groaned and tugged at his arm. “That's fine. Stay.”

Who was he to say no? Taako stretched out next to Kravitz, who was apparently asleep again but immediately wrapped his arms around him. Taako smiled and nestled a little closer to him. He had one coherent thought before his exhaustion and the comfort of this moment pulled him into sleep. Maybe–just maybe–we’re gonna be alright.

[itgirlwife]

star treatment

summary: malcolm finds out that puck is sick.

ship: honeymoon suite | malcolm/puck

words: 834

notes: fluff, mentions of sickness + food

Swallowing is a lot harder than usual this morning and rather painful. Breathing isn’t too easy either. There’s a lot more mucus in my nose than usual. For the first time in a while, I text Malcolm first. I only did it when we planned dates or there was something funny I wanted to share. If I text first, he’ll probably assume something’s wrong. I’ll keep it lighthearted.

good morning :)

Good morning sweetheart. Sleep good?

yes! i had a dream where i met taylor swift and she was really nice but these men in black came in and kidnapped me bc i “knew too much”

i talked to her for like an hour. we were at the beach. 

i’m sick btw lol

He called immediately after that message. I thought the “lol” would prevent that. I answered on the first ring.

“Yeah?”

“Everything ok? You’re sick?” He probably looks as cute as his concern is.

“Only a little. My throat’s just bothering me.” I sniffle a bit.

“And your nose isn’t bothering you?”

“I get runny noses in the morning.” It’s true. But I told him that to keep him from getting gray hairs over this.

“Right,” he doesn’t sound convinced. “Do you need anything? Medicine? Tea? Soup?”

“I’ll text you.”

“Please do. Get some rest. I’ll be there soon.” He sounded like he was halfway out the door. I thanked him and hung up.

Twenty or so minutes later, he shows up. I didn’t ask for much, only cough drops, tea, and soup. He got everything I asked for and some “just in case” items. He bought tissues, cold medicine (A.M. and P.M. variants), popsicles, and ingredients for tomato soup.  I sent him a picture of a canned soup I liked, but he protested.

“Canned soup don’t come from the heart.” He said.

Cute. I’ll let it slide.

When the afternoon came around, Malcolm prepared the soup. I went through 4 cough drops. I was advised not to leave the bed, but if I needed anything, I had to ask him. 

Hearing Malcolm move around my house was comforting. I liked hearing him do the dishes. The profanities that would ensue when he dropped said dishes. The floors creaking when his footsteps approached my bedroom. These served as reminders that I wasn’t alone.

The soup was finished and judging from what I smelt, the soup seemed worth the wait. Sat by my bed in a chair, Malcolm insisted I let him feed me the soup.

“I’m not on my deathbed Malcolm.”

“Well, one of us has to act like you are,” he adds soup to the spoon. “You’ll get better faster.”

“Did you really put your heart into this soup?”

“Every part of it.” He holds the spoon to my lips.

“That’s gross, Malcolm.” I slurp the soup. “I’m not Hannibal.” 

---

The soup was better than what I told him to get. It soothed my throat for the moment. The warmth in my chest when I swallowed each spoonful was something equivalent to the way I feel when Malcolm kisses me. Each spoonful made me smile. It made Malcolm smile too.

I complimented Malcolm on the sweater he wore today. When he stood, it would ride up. I’d get to see his waist and boxers. I thought of that as an added perk of him taking care of me. Navy and knit suited him.

“You look cozy in that sweater.”

He looked down at it like he’d forgotten he was wearing it. “I am. You want it?”

I blink stupidly. “...Like, right now?”

“You don’t want it tomorrow, do you?”

I don’t answer. However, I think Malcolm can read my mind. He takes off the sweater, and I scream inside. He hands it to me.

“Consider it part of the star treatment.”

---

Nighttime rolled around, and Malcolm and I spent most of it watching movies and eating popsicles. We knocked out Don’t Worry Darling but not without Malcolm scoffing whenever I got excited about seeing Harry Styles. During the movie, I took the P.M. medicine. The drowsiness was starting to kick in.

I opted for Malcolm to sleep in the living room because I'm contagious, but he pointed out that he’d been near me all day. Did it really matter now? I’m glad he pointed that out. Medicine be damned, I couldn’t sleep without him. 

My nose was still runny, so I couldn’t cuddle up with Malcolm how I wanted. So he cuddled up to me instead. He laid on my chest, curled up in the knit of the sweater he let me wear. I wonder if he can feel my heart’s unsteadiness.

“The sweater looks good on you.” He mumbles.

“Thanks. My boyfriend let me wear it.”

He chuckles, “Who’s your boyfriend?”

I yawn. My hand in his hair slows down the massage on his scalp. 

“Harry Styles.”

“Well, it was nice of him to let you borrow his sweater. Does he know you met Taylor at the beach?” 

[roll4hari]

"I need you to peel 50 potatoes"

It was your first time cooking for the brothers. Though you were intimidated by all the new devildom food that would usually be considered predators in the human realm, you were determined to adapt to the exchange program. You had to eat for the year after all.

You head to the kitchen, where Lucifer holds out an apron for you with the words "best big bro"—no doubt his—but he couldn't be sure how messy the new human was. You await the first instruction, ready to cook a meal for seven people.

"Where do you want me boss!" You say, hands on your hips as the firstborn gives you an unimpressed look, ignoring the small feeling of pride at being referred to as "boss". At least the human knew their place.

"I need you to peel 50 potatoes." He says, getting to work on the meat for the rest of the dish.

"Excuse me? Like for the month or something? Are we meal prepping?" You ask incredulously, looking at the pile of potatoes that nearly reached your waist and the comically small peeler he handed you.

"Meal prepping? With Beelzebub? You jest. Now get to work unless you want to be eaten." Lucifer deadpans, no amount of 'jest' in his own voice. You thought you were making dinner not starting a soup kitchen.

You start to peel the potatoes, your arm getting sore after about 10, which was about 8 more than you've ever done in your life. Lucifer looks back at you with a giant cauldron of stew already halfway ready, while you were still only a fifth of the way through with your one task.

"Diavolo below, I gave you one task." He rolls his eyes before snatching the tiny peeler from you and peeling the potatoes at inhuman speeds. In fact demonic speeds because what took you half an hour to do, he did in seconds. He tosses the potatoes in and hands you the giant ladle and asks you to stir. You briefly consider throwing yourself in the pot and ending your misery but you remember you would just come right back to the devildom after you died and would have to continue seasoning like nothing happened.

You hear a blood-curdling scream as Lucifer drops something into the stew and you look up at the unbothered demon in horror, wondering if you were just imagining the screams of the damned.

"Its Mandrake. For flavour." He explains as if you had never seasoned food in your life.

He leaves the stew to simmer as you stir and you quickly felt like a a prisoner of war, rowing in the galley of a ship as Lucifer aesthetically cooked some rice like a domestic little housewife.

By the time dinner was ready, you crawled out of the kitchen looking like you just completed a marathon, carrying all seven brothers on your back. You collapse into your seat while everyone digs in.

"Could use some salt," Satan muses and you fight the urge to strangle him - not that you would win by any means against the avatar of wrath but you would go down with dignity.

"The human made this? Oi! I'm their damn guardian. I don't wanna see any of you touching the food they made for ME!" Mammon declares though you barely did anything worthwhile in the kitchen and there would be no way he would be able to finish more than a plate anyway. You were already full from one serving.

You couldn't deny it was good though. Whether it was the power of love or the ingredients that would kill you given the chance, the food was filling and comforting and almost worth the manual labour that you considered ending your life over.

You look over at all the boys, either bickering or rambling as no one listened but eating nonetheless. Levi and Mammon taking bites between putting each other in chokeholds, Satan eating quietly while reading, occasionally piping up with a snarky comment aimed at the firstborn, Lucifer who ate between the ignored lecture to his brothers and Asmo who delicately ate bites between taking pictures for his devilgram.

You then look over at Beelzebub

The avatar of gluttony who somehow always has food on him was eating with the same inhuman speed and vigor that the food was cooked with. You watched in fascination and slight horror as he practically unhinged his jaw to inhale plate after plate of stew. You didn't doubt that he would eat you too if you were close enough. You quickly understand why you had helped make enough food fit for an army.

That guy was a fucking tank.