#we need more smiling risotto

[kujainvidiata]

✂️ Smile expressions challenge! ✂️

[musicallisto]

Could I please please please ask for a lil thing about Lewis comforting his partner when they’re feeling insecure 🥺 👉🏻👈🏻

· · · · ♡ PRE-SEASON JITTERS (lh44)

… starring lewis hamilton x gn!reader (and roscoe !!)

... 1.4k words

... in which the bleak pre-season period has you feeling all sorts of anxious, but a homemade meal and affection from your favorite person (and dog!) could be just the thing you need.

... i love this request and I think we could all use a little bit of lewis reassurance every now and then 🥹 let's all forget this horrendous weekend for him btw

The pitter-patter of Roscoe's claws on the linoleum floors is what reveals your presence first. Slumbering in the kitchen amidst the fumes from the extractor hood, the bulldog suddenly straightens up, stares at the front door, ears pricked up for no apparent reason, and disappears into the hallway with a snort. That's when Lewis knows he has to set the table, add pepper to the risotto. He's not the best cook, and usually the private chef would be in charge of dinner... but in the week preceding each new season, the British driver prefers to keep his evenings and his hands busy.

Your steps are heavy, keys turning in the door laboriously—"Hi Roscoe, oh, you're a sleepy boy, aren't you?" faint between huffs and puffs. Lewis can read you like an open book after so many years: it's not just the bleak mid-February evening weighing you down.

You've had a shit day.

"Hi, Lew," you sigh as you step into the kitchen to wash your hands, something like weary relief peeking from your tone.

"Hi, love." In the cozy penthouse lights, your tense figure and slumped shoulders look out of place, too harrowed to belong in this neat space that the London night outside can't traverse. "I made dinner, nothing too fancy, sorry, but..."

"It's perfect," you cut him off gently, with those shiny eyes he adores so much, eyes that only ever seem to catch his light and nothing else's. A quick peck to his cheek unravels your twisted face a little more. "Wish it were pre-season jitters every week."

"I don't," he chuckles, the sound vibrating against your shoulder like a gentle caress. "Poor Bono's going to have a heart attack any day now... you'd think we haven't done this ten times over already."

Dinner is a ritual, almost a sacralized place for Lewis and you—and Roscoe, wagging his tail back and forth between your legs to see what he can puppy-look his humans into slipping him underneath the table. And it works, Lewis never having been one to resist him for long; Roscoe licks his chops with each mushroom he eagerly steals from the driver's fingers. Easy conversation turns into soft jokes and his latest media duty drama, your favorite to dissect after a long day... but he notices the spark in your smile doesn't reach your eyes, and your mouth contorts into a downtrodden pout when he leans over to scratch the top of Roscoe's big head.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks in earnest, and as long as you don't meet those big, soulful brown eyes, you know you can get through the conversation without crumbling.

"Yeah, I'm just a little tired-"

"No," he shakes his head, smiling ever so slightly, as his hand reaches out to cradle your fingers on the table. "Come on, I know you by heart. I know you're upset. You know you can tell me everything that's on your mind, right?"

Moonlight filters through the large glass windows, mixing with the ceiling light's warm glow and casting a hundred different hues on your cheeks—fractals of white and gold softening the blacks of your eye bags. Lewis aches to see you so—gorgeous and exhausted, yet unwaveringly surrendered to him, willing to crash headfirst into his safe haven. His hand clasps yours at the same time as Roscoe rests a warm, heavy head on your lap.

"It's just... this stupid thing at work. I'm so... behind on everything, and there's this new guy who's always being passive-aggressive towards me in front of our boss, and he's a fucking idiot but—everyone loves him and his ideas, and I feel like no one... appreciates anything I do or even just values my presence, and..." Quivers in your voice you barely control anymore. "And also, you're gonna be leaving next week and I hate it so much when you're gone because then I feel sad but being sad makes me feel like a big burden to you because you're supposed to be focusing on racing and not... not babysitting me or listening to me drag you down, and then I—"

"Hey," he interrupts before your tirade degenerates, and you almost don't notice him getting up from his chair, shapes moving beyond the blurry veil of your eyelashes.

You rush to wipe them; in the blink of an eye he's there, with a gentle hand on your shoulder; its weight grounds you, much like Roscoe's chin pressing a little deeper against your thigh. As if sensing your distress.

"I think you may be getting into your own head a little. Don't you think?"

He speaks softly, but nothing paternalistic; a conciliatory hum that echoes the steady purring of the washing machine, and down below, all these cars full of people headed back to their own little warm huts. Words don't come to your tongue, blocked by the acerbic shame that bubbles in the pit of your throat—how many times must you fall to pieces over nothing in front of him like this? Instead, you shake your head, and that's good enough for him.

"You're not a burden, love."

You've heard it before, from unremarkable social media influencers and good-natured friends, but it's only when Lewis says it, with the perfect balance of pragmatism and warmth, that you truly let the meaning seep in.

"Not now, and not ever. I listen to you because I choose to listen to you, because I want to be there for you. And about work—look at it this way. Do you really think they'd keep you around if you contributed nothing? I know I'd get axed."

You laugh despite yourself, which Roscoe takes as a sign that the sudden sour mood is gone and everyone's attention will soon return to the food if the content little yelp he lets out is any indication.

"No one would ever axe you, Lew, you can't be bothered to do media day like every other week and have never been told anything. But I'm not a seven-time world champion of anything."

"You don't need to!" he chuckles too, raising his hands in mock innocence. "I'm just being realistic here. You're valued. You really do matter. Who do you trust more, some pathetic high school bully or a seven-time world champion?"

"You just want me to stroke your ego," you retort, rolling your eyes, though a small smile creeps on you lips when Lewis leans even closer, eye to eye with you.

"Well you brought it up first, and I can't exactly help being the greatest at what I do."

"Shut up," more giggles escape through your pursed lips.

Lewis' eyes crinkle a little brighter with each of your chuckles, but his grin fades into tenderness when he kisses your forehead. As he pulls back, his features are more relaxed, more quiet, but no less expressive for all that.

"Whenever I start beating myself up after a particularly shit weekend, you always tell me you wish I could see myself through your eyes, right? How admirable it is that I always give it my all, and that I always strive to be the best I possibly can? Well, that goes both ways. You get all caught up in your own head and don't realize how people see you... but I love you, and I do. From outside your head," he ends with a playful tap to the tip of your nose, where a few gleaming tears have dug a bed.

Your fingers intertwine with his out of habit, without really thinking about it, and you lean into his side just as his arms close around your frame, one hand cradling the back of your head. It's indescribable, the tranquility that overwhelms you whenever you're in Lewis' arms, like his strong heart is enough to numb all your aching nerves and wounds.

Time can't pass slow enough in his comforting embrace... much to Roscoe's dismay.

"Oh, sorry, big boy, you must be starving," Lewis laughs at the bulldog's disgruntled bark, "it's been at least ten minutes since you last ate anything..."

You ruffle Roscoe's thick neck as he nonchalantly trots behind Lewis and the treats he always smells on his clothes; though the dog's attention is too captivated by the prospect of food to pay you much attention now, you swear he rubs up against your leg like an approximative hug. Blinking away the last tears, you take in the domestic scene, Lewis mumbling sweet nothings to his waddling companion, the familiar sound of his food bowl scraping against the floor.

At least you do hold some significance in your small corner of London, you think. In between these walls, in the depths of their hearts—hearts that have, somewhat and somehow, chosen you. And it won't be easy to understand just yet... but at least, for now, it will be enough to treasure.

... f1 taglist; @retvenkos @giuseppe-yuki (want to be added? send me an ask!)

[butididntpourthewhiskeys]

Homebodies

A little fluff for your TTPD weekend.

~~~

“No I promise, just sit down, I’ll be done in just a minute, mom.” she says firmly in response to her mother asking if she needs any help in the kitchen. Travis just gives Andrea that one look she’s grown to know too well. His eyebrows raised an inch and a smirk on his face that tells the blonde woman he’s got her daughter all figured out.

Leave it to me.

She giggles quietly at Travis, then slowly walks back into the living room to sit down next to Scott. Travis looks at all the different dishes on the counter behind her. The California sun is slowly setting. He should’ve known this morning when she announced that she’ll cook ‘a few Italian primi piatti’ that the ruthless perfectionist lurking inside of his girlfriend would finally make a come back on this Friday. After running around all day, going to the gym, completing her cardio challenge, baking cupcakes for her parents, finishing a work meeting, discussing a music video concept with her team and signing a few new contracts, she of course decided to hit the delicacy shop she loves out here in LA, just to buy all the ingredients she needs for a total of six different Italian dishes that she wants to make for him and her parents tonight. He knows too well by now that whenever Taylor is in this state of mind, there’s no stopping her. If she sets her mind onto something, there’s nothing anyone can say or do to make her loosen up a little. Even if that would involve her actually enjoying this quiet evening with him and her family instead of standing in the kitchen for a solid two hours now, not having had a single conversation with any one of her parents yet.

“What else needs to be done? I can cut veggies? I’m good at cutting stuff.” he tries one last time, steals a carrot stick from her cutting board and starts munching. While stirring the big blue Dutch oven in front of her, she looks back at him for a second, stressed, clearly not amused that he’s eating her uncooked food.

“No, all good. I just need to make sure the risotto won’t thicken too much and once that’s done you guys can sit down and eat the carpaccio before it gets soggy because I need to take the bread out of the oven and quickly scrap together the bruschetta sauce..”

Travis just sighs deeply, takes a step closer towards her. She’s too stressed whipping up the food in front of her to even notice him trying to get closer.

“How about we just let the bruschetta be? We’ve got so much food, babe. It’s just us four. It’s also really late already.”

She shakes her head, not responding to him and he knows that if he pushes her any more now, she might actually get mad at him tonight.

“How about I start cutting some tomatoes for the bruschetta then?” he says with a sigh, finally gave into her obsession with the tomato bread. For a moment she looks up at him, a weak smile on her face. It immediately lights up his entire body.

“That would be great.” she just says, still a bit hesitant and he knows why. She’s not sure if she should be happy that he’s offering to help her, or if she should be worried about the fact that he might cut off his fingers while doing so.

“Sure.” he says, can see the washed and perfectly ripe tomatoes sitting in the drain by the sink right next to her. He grabs one of the tomatoes, holds it up in the air with a question mark on his face.

“Little cubes?”

She nods, a smile on her face.

“Thanks, Trav.” she says then, still busy stirring the risotto in front of her. She doesn’t even notice that he gets closer to her, and fast enough has stolen her cheek a gentle kiss. She giggles all surprised about his gentleness, then feels him lean in again after a second.

“You’re very welcome, crazy.”

Another kiss leaving her cheek. She just giggles, continues stirring her risotto.

_________

“Taylor, that was absolutely incredible.”

She smiles proudly at her father sitting across from her, takes one last sip from her white wine.

“Thanks so much. So glad you liked it.”

“Honey, it was delicious but you didn’t have to put in all this work just because we’re visiting.” Andrea says, her tone a bit more dunning than Scott’s was before. Taylor just rolls her eyes, a bit annoyed that everyone around her acts like she reinvented the wheel with this Italian dinner. Yes, it was some cooking time to prepare this meal, but she loves hosting and loves being a cook. Her mom should know that better than anyone.

“Tay loves spoiling our guests.” Trav says then, and Taylor looks up at the big man sitting next to her. She starts smiling. Our guests. It was a simple sentence. But it made her feel a certain way. He’s home. This has become his home, too.

“I do. Also, this is Trav’s favorite dish. So..”

“Hey, don’t put this on me now.” He says quickly, jokingly holds up his hands in an innocent gesture that makes the whole table laugh. Taylor can’t help but giggle, too. She playfully hits him in the side.

“I gained fifteen pounds since December, Scott. Fifteen pounds.” he says dramatically to both Andrea and Scott, who amusedly witness the interaction between him and Taylor.

“That’s a good sign, though.” her father laughs, especially because his daughter starts hitting the man’s upper arm some more, looking deeply shocked from him, to her mom and back at Travis again.

“Do not even start blaming me for that. Every time I have food laying around he eats it. That’s not on me.”

Andrea starts laughing, and so does Scott. Travis just rolls his eyes playing pretend, sips one last time on his wine glass before looking at the blonde woman in the black top sitting next to him, giving him a playful side eye. She looks absolutely gorgeous as always, but there’s something in her eyes that gives her away. She’s exhausted. Deeply exhausted and tired, but he knows she won’t ever admit to it.

Without countering her some more, Travis just places his wine glasses in front of him, then wanders with his right hand to her head. He starts gently caressing her hair, wandering down to her neck then, where his thumbs draw some soft and slow circles. He can see her eyes getting smaller and her smile getting softer. His touch helps her let her guard down slowly. But she’s not the only one sitting around this table smiling quietly. Both of her parents witness his gentle gesture silently, a smile on both their faces, unsure if they’ve ever seen their daughter look as loved and taken care of as she does right now.

“You had three hours of sleep last night. How are you even still upright?”

She giggles, his hand now leaving her neck and reaching for her cold left hand.

“Jetlag and being tired is a choice.”

Andrea starts laughing. She knows just as much as Travis that this is the most ridiculous saying her daughter comes up with whenever she’s urged to slow down a little.

“Mhm. Sure.” he just says laughingly, knowing damn well that there’s no arguing with her tonight. Within less than two seconds, she gets up, starts cleaning the dinner table.

“How about you start picking a movie and we do the dishes.” Andrea now takes initiative but before she can even finish her sentence, Taylor shakes her head and makes sure to grab the used plates quicker than her mother can.

“Absolutely not. Trav will go pick a movie with you guys, I’m gonna quickly clean up and feed the cats and join you then.”

“I can feed the cats, babe.” the man who just got up right next to her tries once more but she shakes her head.

“No, please pick a movie with mom and dad.” She asks him with a serious look on her face and he sighs, just shakes his head in disbelief, knowing damn well that he’s got to let her be her obsessive self tonight.

“Alright guys, what do you want to watch?”

_________

“Why is it so quiet in here…”

“Because we are waiting for you, honey.” Scott says from the living room couch, looking at Taylor who stands in the now clean and shiny kitchen preparing the bowls for her cats.

“No, just start the movie already. I’ll be there in a second.” she says, really doesn’t want them to have to wait any longer. After all, it’s past nine already now. The view onto her little backyard is pitch black, and she knows her parents are still jet lagged, too.

“Absolutely not.” Travis says from the very right couch on which he sits, giving her that look she loves so much. With the remote control in his hand, as comfortable as he can be, he smiles at her, looking right into her eyes somehow even though this massive living room is dividing them.

“You can’t miss the beginning. It’s the most important part of this movie.”

“Alright, alright, give me one second.” she says, places the bowls in front of the three impatient cats waiting for their dinner, and washes her hands with her favorite lavender soap in the big kitchen sink one last time.

“Do you guys have drinks? Do you need any snacks, or ice cream? Trav, do we still have the…”

“We have everything, honey. Now enough with all this madness. Sit down on your ass. Now!” Andrea says in a new tone, which Travis hadn’t experienced before. It makes him smile though. Suddenly, Taylor just nods, turns off the lights in the kitchen and finally, after what felt like an eternity, makes her way up to her family lounging in the living room. Travis smiles at the beauty in front of him, immediately opens his arms for her to sit down next to him.

“Come on, babe. Lay down.” he just mumbles, gets comfortable on the big couch himself, a pillow in his neck, and enjoys to feel Taylor cuddle up to him, becoming the little spoon to be able to face the big flat screen.

“Alright, are we ready?”

“Yes.” Both Scott and Andrea answer annoyed from their seats and it makes Taylor laugh. Travis hits the play button and the movie starts. His right hand securely around Taylor’s small body frame, slowly wandering onto her stomach. She places her hand on top of his, and with his head on the pillow behind him, he leans over to her once, breathing in her incredible smelling hair, and steals her neck one last kiss. She moves a bit more, trying to get comfortable, and he can feel how fast her heart beats. He knew it. She’s been running around all day, not even allowing herself a single moment of rest. She’s rattled up, and her inability to just lay still in his arms is proof enough. Sometimes, he feels like whenever she’s not playing a show she needs to run around all day to compensate for her lack of adrenaline rush. It’s not good for her though. It’s not good to be in a constant state of stress.

The movie has just started and he catches himself every so often just staring at her instead. Her silhouette in the darkness, lid up by nothing but the flickering tv light. She’s the most beautiful person he knows. Not a single ounce of badness about her. It terrifies him sometimes, how deeply he loves her. How pure his feelings really are for her. His thoughts manifest themselves once more as she starts laughing about a scene on tv and he realizes that he was way too distracted to follow the storyline until now.

A few moments later, Travis can finally feel her become more and more still in his arms. Her hand still firmly over his, her thumb drawing the ever same slow circles on the back of his hand. She’s slowly coming down from her day. And half an hour later, he knows she’s fighting sleep. Whilst both of her parents are still awake watching and enjoying the movie he chose, the blonde woman in his arms has grown unusually quiet. It takes another five minutes and he feels her spasm once. She’s fighting sleep when really, she shouldn’t. Travis slowly lets go of her stomach, moves his big hand over her cold and naked upper arm instead. Nothing but the tv light lighting up her sleepy face.

“Baby?”

“Mhm?” she answers in her half sleeping state, of course pretending to be fully awake.

“Can you reach for the blanket next to you?”

She slowly sits up, grabs the blanket and just hands it to him, too tired to fully recognize the fact that she’s freezing in her top, and that she needs the blanket more than he does. She just lays down again, her head this time getting comfortable on his upper arm. He opens up the soft blanket over her, feels Taylor finally giving in. With her eyes half closed and the same tired disoriented look on her face whenever she wakes up at night to go to the bathroom, Taylor turns around, signaling him to open his arms for her some more. She’s now fully turned away from the tv, her sleepy face facing his chest. He protectively wraps the blanket around her cold torso, feels her little hand placed on his chest over his sweater. With her wrapped in his arms, and the blanket, Travis looks down at her closing her eyes, finally allowing herself to fall asleep. He leans down to kiss her forehead once, his arm around her, stroking her back up and down.

“Sorry, I’m just..”

He doesn’t know whether her mumbles are an apology to him or her parents about the fact that she falls asleep twenty minutes into the movie. But he’s having none of it.

“Shh. I’ll tell you later what happened.” he whispers, and she doesn’t even nod. Instead, he can watch her breathing get slower and slower and steadier and steadier. It takes less than a minute and she’s fully asleep in his arms. A little sigh escapes her throat. Her toes between his legs move once. In his arms, she slowly lets go. And Travis can now face the TV again, and actually enjoy the movie knowing that the woman in his arms is finally getting some well deserved rest. But his gentleness doesn’t remain unnoticed. Both Scott and Andrea watch Taylor drift off in his big arms, his left hand securely on her head, his right one around her waist, stroking her back over the blanket up and down every so often. Not one of the two can recall a time, in which they’ve witnessed their daughter more effortlessly safe, feeling loved and able to be herself more than in this moment.

[insidekatmind]

A smile on dark days~JUDE BELLINGHAM

Warning: +18,smut, english is not my first language

It was a gray day in Madrid, the sky full of clouds as if it wanted to mourn the defeat of Real Madrid. The match against Barcelona had just finished, and the result weighed like a boulder. Jude Bellingham, the talented midfielder, was back home, his face lined with frustration and disappointment.

You were in the kitchen, preparing his favorite dish, a mushroom risotto, hoping that the comforting scent might ease his mood a little. The door opened with a slow creak and Jude walked in, his gaze dejected.

“Hi, love,” you said, trying to keep your tone cheerful despite the heavy atmosphere.

“Hi,” he replied, his voice low and monotone. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment, as if trying to focus his thoughts.

You walked closer to him, taking his hand. «You're here now. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. «I don't know... I feel like I've let everyone down. I can't shake this feeling. Four nil... against Barcelona. It's embarrassing."

Jude looked down, considering your words. «I don't want to disappoint my teammates. Every time I make a mistake, I feel like it might be my last chance.”

“Don't think like that, please,” I said softly. «Every great player has faced difficult moments. Remember how you got here. You fought and worked hard for every goal you achieved."

«But Barcelona…» he continued, a little more relaxed as he started to eat the risotto. «It was the match of my life, and I didn't do well. I lost the ball too often, and..."

“Stop being so hard on yourself,” I interrupt. «You did your best. And that's all a player can do. You can't control everything. But you can control how you react, and you are a fighter.”

«Love, no one judges you for this. Every team has its ups and downs, and you gave it your all. I know, you did." As you spoke, you invited him to sit at the table. «Come on, let's eat something. You can't go to bed on an empty stomach."

Jude slowly sat down, eyes still lost in thought. “You're right, but…” He stopped, looking at you. «I can't understand how it happened. I wanted to win so badly for the fans and for the team. Every time I wear that shirt, I feel the weight of responsibility."

You sat down in front of him, taking his hands in yours. “But you're also human, Jude. No one can win all the time, and no one can do it alone. You have a team around you, and that's what matters. Even in defeats, we get up together."

He looked at you, a sad smile appearing on his lips. “How can you be so positive?”

«Because I believe in you. I believe in your talent and determination. And above all, I know that this defeat will not define you. It's just a lesson, a step towards your dream."

A comfortable silence spread between you as Jude continued to eat, his gaze now calmer. After a while, he looked up at you, his soft brown eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you sweetie. Really. I don't know what I would do without you."

«Only the best for you, as always. And remember that I will always be there, both the good days and the bad. We need to support each other."

Jude stood up and walked over to you, hugging you tightly. «You are my strength. I don't know how I got lucky enough to find you."

“And I don't know how I got lucky enough to have a guy like you,” you replied, wrapping your arms around him. «Remember, every game is a new opportunity. And tomorrow is a new day."

After eating, you sat together on the couch, watching a light movie. Between laughs, Jude seemed more and more relaxed, his thoughts distracted by your smile and your presence.

“You know, you made me forget everything for a moment,” he said, resting his head on your shoulder.

«And this is just the beginning, Jude. I promise I'll help you get back on your feet whenever you need it."

With infinite sweetness, he shook your hand, and you felt that his determination not to give up had returned. It was just a game, and together you would face everything that life would throw at you.

You gently stroked his hair as he closed his eyes as he relaxed under your touch. When he opened them again he gave you a sweet smile that made your heart beat faster and he kissed you softly while you kissed him back feeling warm under his touch.

The kiss became more and more passionate and Jude gently grabbed your hips as he pulled you onto his lap, straddling him as he continued to kiss and caress your thigh.

“I love you y/n” Jude said softly as he softly began to leave kisses on your neck as you moaned and began to move on him, and you both moaned in pleasure.

You kissed him again sucking on his lip as he moaned and you giggled softly.

“you look amazing” Jude said as he watched you take off his clothes and yours too. You climbed back onto his legs teasing your pussy on his cock and you both moaned.

“come on baby, let me in” Jude said trying to raise his hips to let his cock sink into your opening and you moaned loudly when he managed to enter you.

“fuck you're so tight, I'll never get used to this feeling” Jude moaned as he lowered his head to the edge of the couch.

You began to move on him sensually feeling his cock penetrating you and you moaned loudly holding onto his shoulders. “you're so big” you said moaning resting your head on his shoulder.

He groaned as he grabbed your ass helping you with the movements and you moaned loudly feeling on the edge. With two more thrusts you came as you kissed him and continued to move on him to make him come. When he cums, he gives you a sweet kiss on your lips and a sweet kiss on your forehead.

You still remained inside him as you rested your head on his shoulder while he caressed your back and you enjoyed this attention. When you pulled out you hissed at the lack of filling his cock. You both got dressed as you went back to the couch and hugged each other.

“you are and will always be my number one despite the result” You told him sweetly as you gave him a sweet kiss and he smiled knowing that even if he had lost the match you would always be by his side despite everything.

[killykstudio]

Melancholia

Miguel O'Hara × Cheated on!Reader

Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6;

Warnings: mention of smut, 18+, no minors, angst , cheating , mention of heavy themes as su1c1de, depress1on and anx1ety, fluff.

Summary: at your own wedding you discover that your own husband is cheating on you. This leads you in a spiral of anger and desperation , until your husband's best man notices that and decides to take matters into his hands.

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"smile! Today it's your day!" Your sister says with a fake smile covering her clearly annoyed face by your attitude. " you can at least try , everybody is here for you , for the bride! You can't walk around with that face". To please her you try your best to on bright smile , but it only results in a grimace of wrinkles. She sighs in defeat." Go upside to the bedroom and try to fix this issue " she gives you a weak smile and with her hand points to the stairs.

You start walking towards them , trying to pass through the sea of guests.

Everything is fine

Everything is fine

Everything is fine

Everything is f-

"Y/N!Honey!" You recognise the voice and you continue to walk , until a figure of a man comes in your eyesight. It's your husband. He is sweating, all messy , he looks like he has just run a marathon.

"You don't look well.Can we go to a private place and tal-"

You push him aside , your face looks dead, like nothing could care for you

"Y/N!" He tries to make you stop but anything by grabbing your wrist. Everybody around started staring at the two of you. He notices this and gets heavily embarrassed."You should smile. You are prettier when you do it". He spit these words with such venom and anger, there was no tender behind them.He leaves your wrist and watches you taking the stairs still annoyed by your mood.

He heads outside , where he meets his best man : Miguel O'Hara.

The two met at work, they become rather quickly friends by spending mostly time at the labs , talking about interdimensional travelling. During a New years night you got the chance to meet him: it was a month before your wedding you , your friends and a small group of your husbands were in Florence, there everybody drank a little too much and quickly enough you found yourself alone in a bar with your husband's best man. He was cold and looked at you with a rather pissed off face, so , sinché he cut all the time your small talk, you decide to leave , but in the moment you stand up , your knees went weak and you almost fell on the ground , if it weren't for Miguel huge hands that quickly wrapped around your waist before anything could happen. Soon enough he was escorting you to the hotel. Here you got a chance to look at him even better.

Good you didn't know if was the alcohol or anything, but he was gorgeous. You were so hypnotizided by his features that you didn't realise that you were in your bedroom, until he pulled you up bride style and laid you on the bed , putting on you a blanket. "If you need anything call me alright? I'm sleeping in the next room. Okay, muñeca?" You blushed by the sweet nickname, thank god half of your face was under the blanket. He gave you a sweet smile and got out.

At the time you didn't know that that night would become your best and worst of your life till now.

" do you have to smoke?" Your husband asks. " No, you know I don't use that kind of thing" Miguel sounded irritated. He knows what was happening and felt an asshole for doing nothing to prevent this situation. "Eugh...what a mess of day. I hate weddings. Have you tasted the risotto? It was horrible and I'm exhausted talking to everybody , can they leave alone for a moment.." he continues to complain. Everything he says enters in Miguels right ear and goes out from his left. He couldn't care less. " also that bitch of y/n is acting strangely, going around like we are at a funeral. She should be more grateful for everything I gave to her and I did to h- Miguel?" That's it, he had enough, Miguel started walking in park in front of the luxurious house, his blood was boiling, in that moment he swears that if he heard another word falling from his friend about you , he would have killed him.

Friend? Miguel was thinking to himself.

In the last period he started becoming more distant to his friend, since what happened that night in Florence. Heading back to his room he heard your husband in the room in front of him screaming someone else's name with moans and groans, then a female voice came to his ears, the voice of one of his friends. He got in the room quickly and tried to not think about it, to shove it inside him , but he couldn't. He thought about you , how you didn't deserve such a thing as you appeared to him as a nice person, maybe he didn't know you enough , maybe the situation was more complicated. Eventually he spent more time with you and this only worsened the situation: you were such an interesting woman with a complex personality; you didn't smile a lot, but liked making sarcastic jokes and the few times you showed true happiness , you were glowing ,engulfed by the feeling, that you actually craved , when the others thought the opposite. Most of the time you were immersed in your own thoughts, some people would judge you as pessimistic , but still though kind and caring.

You could never have done something to his friend on purpose and you could never have cheated on him how he did to you one month prior to your wedding.

"Do you think it suits me?" You looked at Miguel in the mirror. He was speechless by your beauty: you were dressed in a divine white dress. He nodded "Nunca he puesto los ojos en una cosa más hermosa, muñeca" he whispered. Miguel you know I don't know Spanish!"

"I could teach it to you" he smirked.

"CieRtaMente" you said with the worst accent.

He left out a feeble laugh.

Before he could have said anything else , he was interrupted by your parents and friends opinions on the dress which led you to choose another one, less beautiful,but you still remained so divine to him.

You looked excited with a few hints of anxiousness, but still he could see you were truly grateful for this chance the life gave you: being loved. Or at least thinking you were.The guilt he felt become with time more heavy.

How would you react to such news? How could he say it to you?

Would he ruin everything if he talked?

What right did he to be the one to spill everything?

A splash snaps him out of thoughts.

It has came from a small idyllic lake from near him. He didn't realise how far from the villa he walked.

Others splash like sounds come from the lake. Curiosity takes the lead of his brain and gets near.That's when shock and worry suppressed curiosity: you were covered by the layers of your dress, immersed in the cold waters with your eye closed, clearly unconscious, your lips purple, mouth semi open and your make up smudged, you looked incredibly peaceful; all around you fallen leaves and ninfe making it look like you were in a painting. Without thinking further he jumps in and,even though struggling with the layers of your dress, he catches you, taking you out of the water,then he gets out, carrying bridal style. He places you on the ground.

"Y/N!" He continues to scream your name meanwhile checking your pulse. He was panting: heavy breaths full of worry leaving his plump lips.

Seeyin you still unconscious, he leans in and your lips meet. He fills your lunges with his air and slowly you regain your consciousness. You grab his biceps and he leaves your mouth panting heavy. You miss his warmth and whine at the loss of it.

You two stare at each other, then Miguel breaks the silence:

"why?"

Thank you for reading!

Part 2 is out!

[dicentsalve]

You shared your La Squadra headcanons... Now what about L' Unità speciale?

// also,, I love your work! It's interesting :)

Thank you VERY much, bb!!!!! I don't know if this is the same person who asked me about my La Squadra hcs, but if this is, then I'm waiting for you in the bedroom in my new lace lingerie And it's ps2 colors again

● Squalo

Squalo is Tuscan, Tiziano is Sicilian and there are a couple of reasons for this: Tuscany is a treasure trove of the Renaissance and many precious artistic creations, and Tiziano is reference to the artist Also in Sicily is very I mean, is VERY common and in demand fish, and Squalo is literally a shark, as his stand

The accent in speech is almost undetectable, but he often uses the Tuscan dialect and actually pronounces “Tizzano”

He and Sale are brothers. Sale doesn't know that his appendix is ​​a member of the Boss’s elite guard, but believes that he simply found a rich friend in Tiziano, which he sometimes uses with gnashing of teeth. They are also the direct personification of jokes: - I fucked your mother! - We have the same mother, idiot.

Squalo has a Stand from birth and for this reason doesn't eat fish.

Living up to his name, he bites quite often, as sharks bite the object of their adoration as a sign of courtship. (But if think so, he only bites Tiz)

Squalo loves and often goes swimming, especially early in the morning or late in the evening, and carries Tiziano with him, who, in turn, doesn't like to swim, but loves to spend time on the shore, watching Squalo, who sometimes brings him beautiful shells or stones from the bottom.

Can't stand white wine.

He knows a lot of different and ridiculous facts about sea creatures and loves to tell them to Tiziano.

Regarding the Bucci gang, has a particular dislike for Mista (this hc is based on private comparisons between The Clash and Sex Pistols and disputes between fans)

Having a difficult relationship with parents.

● Tiziano

Has the softest, almost inaudible accent, especially to an unknowing interlocutor, which is also well disguised behind purring.

The great love of Sicilians for women played a certain role in his appearance, which gave him great attention from men in Sicily and beyond. From the women, by the way, too.

Tiziano damnably loves money and is ready to do anything if he is paid well for it.

He also doesn’t eat fish, but he didn’t do that even before the stand appeared, he’s just sick of it.

Tiziano values ​​his personal space very much and hates when it is violated against his will, but he himself does this quite often, if not constantly.

Is the information side of the Unità Speciale.

He has the habit of pampering and treating Squalo, who, in turn, is ashamed of this.

Not particularly talkative or smiling, but has a good command of the language. (In terms of speech patterns and traps for the interlocutor, but in a different sense too)

At home he has several plants, which he carefully cares for.

Father is a farmer. Doesn't maintain contact with his mother, but has a stable relationship with his father. (His dad also likes Squalo) Final screamer, but Tiziano and Squalo are just friends, at least officially (This turns me on even more)

● Carne

Carne is almost completely deaf. He can speak, but does so rather vaguely and quietly.

He's afraid of cats and I'm not going to explain it.

His height is 211. It seemed strange and illogical to me that since Carne is meant to be cannon fodder and the stand itself demands that he be killed in any case, he is very short. And the higher the cabinet, the louder it falls.

Regarding the work of Notorious B.I.G: Yes, Carne needs to be killed And he will die, then his soul in the form of a stand will crawl out of his body. However, when Notorious B.I.G. reaches the target and kills the victim, it returns to the owner’s body and restores the wounded parts.

● Cioccolata

Cioccolata is the last one who is also Sicilian for me and I'm ready to explain why: In the anime adaptation, Risotto (who, according the canon, is Sicilian), Tiziano and Cioccolata have a single, unique manner of speech, which is especially clearly heard from Cioccolata. I can’t explain it, but just listen to their voices and compare with the others, they have some kind of abruptness, “stammers” and breath before syllables.

Based on this, Cioccolata has the thickest accent.

As a child, Cioccolata wore braces, which he installed for himself. However, he still has a natural "unevenness" and his front teeth protrude slightly, causing his upper incisors to show through unless he consciously closes his lips.

He sleeps a lot, which can be attributed to his slight excitability and extreme emotionality at work, although otherwise he is quite calm and even silent.

During each new medical experiment, he tries not to repeat himself, because otherwise the process will no longer cause the same pleasure.

Despite certain inclinations, he still adheres to extreme sterility in his work.

● Secco

He has no fear of Cioccolata. In the sense that he is still afraid of him as a person and an unstable personality. However, he is not afraid, because he is firmly confident that Ciocco wont harm him.

He has a slightly sinewy, but large and elastic physique, broad shoulders, to which a significant contribution was made by the stand, which requires good training of the swimmer, and we all know what swimmers look like.

Due to the huge amount of sugar, he is very restless, nervous and twitchy.

After being with Cioccolata for a long time, he really began to forget and confuse some words or sounds.

He is a Neapolitan and knows every corner of Naples like the back of his hand, so he poses a much greater threat in pursuit here.

Cioccolata often kicks him out of the office or forces sits halfway under the floor, since Secco loves dirt.

[naomijoestar]

I have an idear if you may 😌

La Squadra with a person who has a healing stand BUT the Stand is like a giant version of one of those microwaveable plushies (with its own heating ofc) so you can get cozy and healed at the same time :3

Masterlist here <3

I love this so much omg! I loved writing this especially because we usually see most of la squadra’s members with a tough exterior but this shows their soft side instead <3 I hope you enjoy!

La Squadra with a member who has a healing stand that takes the form of a giant warm plushie

Risotto Nero

Risotto was not the kind of man to indulge in creature comforts. The others joked that he’d never even touched a pillow before. Yet, after a mission where he’d taken a bullet to the shoulder, you decided he didn’t have much of a choice

“You don’t need to—” he started, his deep voice gruff and serious, but you were already calling your Stand to his side. The plush appeared, draping itself over him like a weighted blanket. Its heat seeped into his muscles as it began to heal his injury

Risotto froze, clearly unsure how to react. For a moment, you wondered if he was going to shove it away, but then he let out a slow, almost inaudible sigh

“… It’s efficient,” he said finally, as though trying to convince himself more than you. He remained completely still while the plush did its work, though his sharp eyes occasionally darted around the room, clearly worried someone would catch him looking… cozy

“You can relax, you know,” you teased lightly

“I am relaxed,” he deadpanned, his monotone voice betraying nothing. But the slight way his fingers curled into the plush’s fur told a different story

Formaggio

Formaggio was the team’s class clown, so it was no surprise that he latched onto your Stand immediately

“I’m telling you, this thing is a game-changer,” he declared one evening, sprawled dramatically across the couch with your Stand draped over him. “You could open a spa. We’d make more money than assassinations.”

“Or you could stop using my Stand like it’s your personal pillow,” you retorted, though you couldn’t hide your grin

“C’mon, you know you love me,” he said, giving you a cheeky wink

The plush shifted slightly to rest more firmly against his side, and Formaggio practically purred. “Ahhh, this is the life. Prosciutto needs to lighten up and give this thing a shot.”

Melone

Melone treated your Stand like it was the most fascinating experiment he’d ever encountered

“This is incredible,” he murmured, lying flat on the floor while the plush wrapped itself around his legs like a giant heating pad. “The way it generates heat… Does it tap into thermal energy? Or is it biochemical? Fascinating…”

You chuckled, watching him poke and prod at the Stand’s fur with an almost childlike wonder. “You’re overthinking it, Melone. Just enjoy it.”

“Oh, I am enjoying it,” he said with a blissful smile. “I’m just imagining the possibilities. Perhaps we could develop a combat application! Imagine this thing smothering an enemy—healing them, sure, but leaving them too cozy to fight back!”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works,” you said, but Melone wasn’t listening. He was too busy rambling about lavender-infused knockout tactics

Prosciutto

Prosciutto was the hardest to crack. “A professional doesn’t need… fluff,” he’d said with disdain when he first saw your Stand

But one day, after a mission had left him with a pulled muscle in his back, you caught him eyeing the plush. He tried to walk it off—straight-backed and prideful as ever—but eventually, he relented

“Fine. Do what you must,” he said, sitting stiffly on the couch

The plush appeared, immediately wrapping around his shoulders. You saw his posture relax by about half an inch

“You’re good at this,” he said quietly after a while. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

You didn’t miss the way his hand briefly rested on the plush, almost like a pat of approval

Pesci

Pesci loved your Stand from the moment he saw it

“It’s so… cute!” he exclaimed, wide-eyed. “Can I—uh, does it, you know… work on stress too?”

You laughed. “Stress? Pesci, do you have stress?”

“Well, Prosciutto’s been on me a lot lately, and my shoulders are really stiff,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck

The plush appeared, settling over his shoulders like a heated cape. Pesci’s eyes widened, and he let out a soft, high-pitched sigh that sounded suspiciously like a kitten purring

“Th-this is amazing!” he stammered. “I feel like I could nap forever!”

“Glad to know I’m running a daycare,” you teased, ruffling his hair

Illuso

Illuso was too cool for your Stand—at least, that’s what he claimed

“That thing’s ridiculous,” he sneered. “What assassin needs a stuffed animal to coddle them?”

But when he twisted his ankle after a particularly bad fight, he had no choice but to hobble over to you

“This doesn’t mean I like it,” he growled as the plush enveloped his foot, the heat easing the pain almost instantly

“Of course not,” you said, biting back a smile

Illuso glared at you, but the way he slumped back into his chair betrayed his secret relief. You caught him muttering under his breath, something suspiciously like, “Stupid thing’s too soft…”

Ghiaccio

“I don’t need that fluffy nonsense,” Ghiaccio declared loudly. “Do you think I’m some kind of child who needs a blankie?!”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re limping.”

“No, I’m not!” he snapped, which was a blatant lie

Without waiting for permission, you summoned the plush, and it tackled him like an overenthusiastic dog. Ghiaccio yelped, flailing as it wrapped around him

“Get this thing off me!” he barked—until the warmth kicked in. His expression softened immediately, though he quickly scowled again to cover it up

“… Fine. It’s not terrible,” he grumbled, crossing his arms

You smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

If you enjoyed this make sure to check out my other posts, and if you’d like anything specific written for a jjba character/squad you can request it if my requests are open!

[blues824]

round 5 ‼️‼️ gotta feed them silver simps

silver w prompts 18 and 19!!

You requested: Christmas Dinner, Making Christmas Dinner, + Mistletoe 

Sorry I forgot it on the last request!!

Silver

Because the Diasomnia crew was going back to Briar Valley for Winter Break, you had proposed having a dinner celebration before then because you were not going to see them for a little while. Malleus and Lilia knew that there was a bit of a situationship between you and Silver, so they were all too happy to accept your invitation.

It was a rather casual occasion, but you still decorated the dormitory appropriately for the season it was. You were wiping down the counter when you got a text from a certain silver-haired knight.

Do you need any help setting up?

You paused to look around you, seeing if you actually needed any assistance. Then you realized that you would need help preparing dinner. You needed a few ingredients as well, but your hands were tied at the moment. So, you decided to call him.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Silver! How good are you at cooking? Or even just following a recipe?”

“I would say I am proficient.”

“Good, because I need help preparing the meal and I need a few ingredients. It’s not a lot, and I’ll pay you back-”

“No need. I’ve got you covered. Being a knight pays fairly well, so don’t worry.”

“You are my knight in shining armor… When do you think you’ll get here?”

“Should be less than an hour. I’ll head to Sam’s Shop right now.”

“Ok! Sounds good. See you later!”

“Bye, Y/N.”

~~~~~~~~

True to his word, he arrived at Ramshackle no later than an hour after he hung up. He knocked on the door with his free hand, grocery bag in the other. He had to escape from his dorm quietly, otherwise his father would have wanted to help with the cooking, and the last thing anyone needed before the trip was food poisoning.

When you answered the door, you had a smile on your face as you tried to take the groceries from him, but he refused, saying he wouldn’t be a gentleman if he had you carry them. You let him in, and he set them on the counter, and he immediately set about rolling up his sleeves to his elbows and washing his hands.

Seeing him roll up his sleeves had to be the hottest thing you had ever seen. You were able to clearly see the veins of his hands and the slightly toned muscles in his forearms. You could have died happy right then and there.

ANYWAY, he turned to you as he wiped his hands on the towel.

“What are we going to be making?”

“…Buckle up.”

~~~~~~~~

He was right: he was proficient when it came to cooking. Of course, he was just following the recipe, but he was doing really well. For the dinner, you wanted to make their favorite dishes as well as some dishes from your own world as well.

That meant that you were making mushroom risotto, salmon carpaccio, you had gotten some ice cream beforehand, and you looked up some tomato dishes. You also, luckily, had some tuna to feed Grim. The smell of the kitchen wafted through the air, making the cat hungry, and more than a few times you and Silver had to swat his paws away from the food.

When you had diced the onions, he got concerned when you started crying. He rushed over to you and checked to see if you had cut yourself. You were definitely surprised by the close proximity, but you had to assure him that you were fine and it was the onions rather than you actually being hurt.

In order to make sure that you were alright, he took over chopping the onions, and they still managed to make him tear up, but he kept going. He would rather do it, even if it did sting a bit, because you were washing out your eyes with some water at the moment.

Onion incident aside, everything else went smoothly. You both talked about whatever came to mind, topics such as how his training was going or what Sebek freaked out about just the other day. To hear that your fellow First Year was screaming at a poor Diasomnia student for daring to not bow before the great Malleus Draconia was not surprising. In fact, you felt pity for the student, as they might not have known the proper etiquette for being around the Royal Family.

When you placed the last dish out on the table and covered it with aluminum foil, you thanked him for all his help, and an awkward silence fell over you both. He gathered his things and exited the door back to Diasomnia, going to change because he had gotten some stuff all over his clothes. You were in a similar state and rushed upstairs to get a change of clothes.

Meanwhile, two certain faes and a certain cat were plotting a little something, and Grim quietly slipped out of the room to get one last decoration. Malleus and Lilia totally bribed him the last time they saw him by the way, offering to bring the fanciest tuna that money could buy.

~~~~~~~~

You were a bit nervous for the dinner, as you had never hosted royalty before. You yourself didn’t know how to act, and you were afraid you were gonna end up like the scolded Diasomnia student. However, you were not afraid to fight Sebek back.

Anyway, the doorbell rang, and you rushed to open it. Your guests had arrived, and you greeted each and every one of them as they walked in. They took in the decorated, yet still ramshackled dormitory, and you were getting even more nervous. However, Silver gave you a comforting smile that made your butterflies settle down.

“What lovely decorations, Prefect!~” Lilia said as he put his coat on the coat-rack.

“It smells wonderful, Child of Man,” Malleus could definitely sense your nerves, so he tried to calm you down.

“Thank you. The food is ready, if you’re all hungry!” You said, leading them to the kitchen, where they would assemble their own plates. You were afraid that you were gonna be yelled at for daring to make the prince make his own plate of food, but you got no retribution. You looked at Sebek and his mouth actually was duct-taped. The sight made you giggle, but you moved on rather quickly.

Once everyone got their servings, you all sat down in the living room to enjoy each other’s company. The piece of tape on the younger knight’s mouth was removed on the condition that he would not complain. To be fair, you learned to make salmon carpaccio for him, so he had no real reason to complain anyway.

Silver had a serving of the mushroom risotto, his favorite, and he noticed that his father took some as well, making him feel a bit happy. He took a bite and noticed that it tasted wonderful, a great fruit of you and him working as a team. 

You were invested in your conversation with Malleus, asking him about his grandmother and her wellbeing, any new gargoyles he took notice of, the types of architecture back in the Briar Valley, and he was all too happy to speak about it with you. Silver found himself staring at you, and Lilia discovered that as well, giving him a bit of an elbow.

“Why don’t you actually talk to Y/N?” His father whispered to him.

“I don’t know what you mean, Lilia. I talk to them regularly.”

“Oh, but you do know what I mean. I’ve seen that look in many eyes, including my own. You’re in love, my son,” He said, a knowing gleam in his smile.

~~~~~~~~

As the crew got up to leave, you noticed that Malleus, Lilia, and even Grim all had smirks on their faces. You were definitely very suspicious, especially as you lingered behind with Silver, not quite ready for him to leave yet.

“Are you sure I can’t pay you back for your help today?” You asked, stopping right before the front door.

“I am very sure, Prefect. You don’t need to worry,” He said, also stopping. He was trying his hardest to not fall asleep right then and there, feeling the day’s exhaustion catching up to him.

Then you noticed something like magical sparkles floating down. You looked up to see a levitating piece of mistletoe, letting out a gasp as both of your faces grew warm. Silver looked back into your eyes.

“I am not one to stray from tradition, but I understand if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Are you asking if you can kiss me?”

“I suppose…?”

“Then yes.”

And with that, as the rest of the Diasomnia crew celebrated outside your front door, your knight in shining armor placed a gentle and delicate kiss upon your lips. His hands went to cup your face, and your hands went to hold onto his arms, both of you reveling in the loving embrace of your newfound lover.

[trashpandato]

Dinner

For as much as Kara loves food, thinks about food, talks about food, dreams about food, she’s not very good at actually making it herself.

It’s been a thing for as long as she can remember. Several of her childhood memories of Krypton involve Alura shooing her out of the kitchen after Kara managed to spill key ingredients in her attempt to help her mother make dinner. In Midvale, Eliza straight up banned her from the kitchen at some point. Granted, it only happened after the fifth visit from the fire department, but Kara still feels a little sour about it. All she wants, all she has ever wanted was to learn how to cook a few basics: pasta, cookies, maybe a pie or two. But for some reason, almost all of Kara’s attempts to learn have resulted in unmitigated disasters and a general unwillingness of others to try and share a kitchen with her.

So now she mostly orders take-out, buys pre-made meals that she only has to heat up, or relies on others to do the cooking for her. At the same time, she still really wants to learn.

When Lena cooks her dinner for the first time, Kara’s mind is blown. In between mouthfuls of creamy, delicious risotto, Kara swoons.

“Lena! This is, it’s so good!”

Lena chuckles. “You sound surprised. I don’t know if I should be offended.”

“Yeah. I mean, no! It’s just, I didn’t know you could cook.”

“I don’t have a lot of time, but I do enjoy it. It’s relaxing.”

The question comes out before Kara can control it: “Would you teach me?”

“Teach you? To cook?”

Kara puts her fork down to avoid flinging bits of rice around. She’s known to gesticulate wildly when she’s excited about something and has learned that it’s better not to do that with utensils in hand.

“Yeah. I, um, I’m kind of terrible at it. So terrible, in fact, that I’m not allowed anywhere near Eliza’s kitchen anymore.”

Lena doesn’t seem too surprised at this admission. 

“But you still want to learn?”

“I do! It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just something simple that I can make for myself at home.”

Lena hums, seemingly weighing her options, but then she smiles and nods.

And that’s how Kara finds herself in Lena’s kitchen two weeks later, kneading fresh pasta dough on the marble countertop. She’s been following Lena’s instructions carefully, taking notes, and so far, the only item she has broken is a wooden spoon which splintered under Kara’s excited grip when Lena brushed her hands along Kara’s back as she walked behind her to grab the eggs.

“You know, I really don’t understand why everyone says you’re such a disaster in the kitchen,” Lena muses as she watches Kara roll out the dough as per her instructions. “You’re doing great.”

Kara can feel the skin on her face heat up at that.

“Well, um, usually there are charred things,” she admits sheepishly. “And ruined pots and pans. And, um, the occasional visit from the fire department.”

“Really?” Lena laughs. “I would think Supergirl could get that under control herself.”

“Well, okay, the fire department thing only happened when I was younger. Before I was Supergirl. But I’ve definitely ruined several of Alex’s good pans, so I’m not allowed to touch them anymore.”

Lena shakes her head, amusement clear in her features as she takes a sip of her wine.

“It’s a good thing that I’m a billionaire, then. I’ll gladly buy some more pots and pans if necessary. But I have faith that we won’t need to go there.”

In the end, Lena teaches Kara to make the pasta and pair it with zucchini, mint, lemon and cheese and it’s among the best dinners Kara has ever eaten. Kara decides that Lena must have the magic touch and asks if they could do this again.

They do, and the pie that Kara tries to make ends up burnt, but this time, it’s not because of anything Kara does. It’s because Lena starts kissing her, first lightly, then fiercely and Kara forgets about the pie in the oven until the smoke alarm goes off and she has to scramble out of Lena’s grasp to use her freeze breath to take care of it.

Kara starts to apologize, but Lena is right there and she’s laughing but then she’s pressing her lips back to Kara’s and whispers:

“You can burn down my entire kitchen, I don’t mind. Just keep kissing me.”

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Ever Green

Author: bleuzombie

Artist: Adromelke

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Garth/Benny, Sam/Eileen, Past Castiel/Mick, Dean/Lisa (mentioned), Dean/Lee Webb (mentioned)

Length: 25000

Warnings: No Major Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Restaurant AU, BDSM, Secret Identity, Boss-Employee Relationship, Anger Management Issues, Blood Play, Trans Masc Dean, Miscommunication is the Real Enemy

Posting Date: October 16, 2024

Summary: Dean Winchester lands a sous chef job at fine dining restaurant Ever Green under prestigious Chef Castiel Novak. Dean celebrates with a session with a Dom known as Ripper who rocks his world. Chef Novak spends all his energy tearing Dean apart but each day under his tutelage is a day closer to his dream of his own restaurant. Things are finally working out for Dean but life is rarely that simple. 

Excerpt: “Alright, you sexy bitches,” Dean shouts. “Let’s kill this service. Heard?”  “Yes, Chef!” The kitchen thunders. Dean smiles as he plates two more orders of appetizers. Castiel joins him at the pass but doesn’t take over.  “You good, Chef?” Dean asks.  “You are good at this.” Castiel smiles.  “Thank you for saying that, Chef.” Dean tries not to let the praise distract him. “Ketch, these shrimp are over. New order of shrimp.”  “They are fine!” Ketch argues.  Dean stares at him for a moment. He doesn’t have time to argue, and it seems like Ketch isn’t willing to budge.  “Ketch, off the line, Duma, take over fish,” Dean finishes playing the risotto and puts it on the pass. “I’ll be there to help in a minute. One order of shrimp, Duma.”  “Yes, Chef,” Duma calls. “One order of shrimp heard.”  “You can’t kick me off the line!” Ketch yells.  “I am running this kitchen, and I want you off my line,” Dean doesn’t yell. He doesn’t need to. He’s the one in control. “Now, out of the kitchen, grab a deli and cool down while I’m still willing to give you a chance to cook tonight.”  “Chef,” Ketch turns to Castiel. “This is your kitchen. Are you really going to let this commis kick out your best chef?” “Hey!” Dean snaps. “Chef Novak left me in charge of the kitchen. I said off the line, so get off the fucking line. You’re done tonight.”  “Chef!” Ketch pleads.  “Now, Ketch,” Dean growls. “Don't make me physically remove you from my kitchen.”  “Fine,” Ketch hisses. He grabs the overcooked shrimp and tosses the tray in the garbage.  “Duma, how we doing on those shrimp?”  “Thirty seconds, Chef!” Duma responds.  “Would you like your kitchen back, Chef?” Dean asks. He grabs the tray of shrimp from Duma, checking them over. “Duma, great job. These are perfectly cooked.”  Duma smiles and blushes. “Thank you, Chef.”  “I think I would like to work with Duma on fish,” Castiel says, smiling. “I so rarely get the chance to really work with the commis. Is that agreeable, Chef?”  “Yes, Chef,” Dean nods. “I’m waiting on that ribeye Benny. How long?”  “Three minutes, Chef.”  “Fish and meat, three minutes to the window, heard?”  “Yes, Chef!” Dean winks at Duma, who is still smiling as Castiel stands next to her, grilling shrimp. Cas looks happy behind the line. Dean wonders if he wouldn’t be happier behind the line all the time.  “Okay, new order in,” Dean calls out. “Four risottos. Hester, you got it, or do you need a hand?”  “I got it, Chef,” Hester says calmly. “Six minutes to the window.”  “Six minutes heard,” Dean checks the tickets in front of him. “We’re just heating up chefs. Let’s rock this service.”  The “Yes, chef” is thunderous, and Dean smiles. His time at Ever Green is looking up. 

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[lexithwrites]

lexith writes | @jegulus-microfic | 6th feb - murder 861 words

James was used to blood now. He still hated the smell, the hot, wet metallic that made his nose sting and his eyes water, but he was used to it. Coming home and having that familiar scent wafting through the flat didn’t make him pause, didn’t make his skin crawl or his stomach lurch. It was just normal.

When Regulus had first explained it all to him he had thought he was mad. Not Regulus, but himself. Maybe he had lost it? Had he just imagined a boyfriend and now he was a monster? Maybe…stranger things had happened. But then Regulus showed him, and he realized he wasn’t making it up. This was reality and it was a reality he could choose to leave, or choose to stay in. 

It was an easy choice. 

“Love?” He called softly, shutting and locking the door and putting down his backpack. There was some muffled movement from down the hall and he noticed the crack in the bathroom door where light was spilling out. At least it wasn’t their bedroom again. James had hated that. “Regulus? Do you need anything?” 

“No.” A sharp reply came and James couldn’t help but bite his lip when his boyfriend's voice came back strangled. Like he had something in his mouth that he hadn’t yet swallowed. 

“Okay. I’m gonna make dinner, alright?” No response, so James went into the kitchen and started dinner.

Normal. This was normal now, he reminded himself. 

Regulus’ feeding routine was the same every month. He tried to act like a regular person everyday. He ate food, drank water and sometimes alcohol. He went to parties and to his work and he smiled and laughed like everybody else, but sometimes, when he could no longer take it, he snapped.

That’s when it happened.

It was never a good person, or a nice person. He told James they were bad people, and he believed him. He knew Regulus well enough to trust he wouldn’t harm an innocent person, that he had to seek people out specifically for this. That had to mean something, right? It was murder but…maybe taking these kinds of people out was for the greater good.

That’s what James told himself, anyway. 

An hour passed before Regulus walked in, fresh out of the shower and looking beautiful. James had made himself some risotto his mother had once shown him, and was sitting at the kitchen table with a beer in front of him. He smiled when Regulus came in and reached for his hand. No blood. 

“How do you feel?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Can��later can you help me…” Regulus looked away. 

“Of course. You know I always will.” James wondered how heavy this person was going to be. Last time they’d been pretty skinny which meant clean up was a lot more straightforward. Regulus did have to try and pin them down after all, they couldn’t be that much bigger than him.

Regulus, instead of sitting in the opposite seat at the table, moved to curl into James’ lap, shoving his face into his neck and inhaling. James wasn’t scared of that anymore, knowing that he was the last person Regulus would ever turn on. He’d probably harm himself before doing that.

“I know you hate it. But you have to do it.”

“I should be eating animals.” He sniffled.

“We tried that and it wasn’t enough. It made you sick, love.”

“I’m already sick.” 

James pulled back and cupped his face. “You are not sick.” His voice was firm but comforting. He needed Regulus to believe this. He spiraled after feeding but he always needed to be brought back to the surface. James couldn’t lose him. “You have to survive just like everyone else.”

“But it’s wrong.” Regulus’ eyes were getting wet with tears. 

“I don’t think it’s wrong.” James said. “But I know it’s hard.” He leaned a little closer so their noses bumped. “I love you, Regulus. More than anything. I’m gonna help you, okay? Whatever I need to do. If you need me to start—”

A hiss bubbled in Regulus’ chest and James swallowed. 

“Okay, okay. I won’t. Promise.” Regulus sunk against him again. 

“It's just…blood is so good.” He sighed, fingers trailing over James’ pulse point. He smirked. This part was a little plus, the feeling afterwards. The high, the lust. Not that they needed it to sleep together, definitely not, but the sex was always a little more…animalistic. And James often ended up with some shoulder bites he could admire later on. 

“I wouldn’t know.” James said, looking into Regulus’ eyes. “But I could.”

“Jamie.” He warned.

“I mean it. Then we could both do this together, properly. You get scared you’ll hurt me but love, you could never hurt me. Especially if I’m like you.” James closed his eyes and he felt a kiss over each eye. 

“It hurts. To change.” Regulus whispered.

“It wouldn’t. Not from you.” James captured his lips in a kiss and then picked Regulus up. “All you make me feel is love.”

Regulus smiled, and James saw the small glint of his fangs. His beautiful, beautiful fangs.

[princelylove]

Sometimes I forget my interpretations are not canon. For my freaks who are into hyper specific body parts, like I am, here’s the first batch of my body interpretations for part five. 

I can’t count how many full body shots or slow pan downs we had of Giorno- with a rightful emphasis on his hips and legs. Giorno’s muscle is that of a ballerina’s- slender, but has lots of stamina. He has a small waistline, like majority of the Joestars do, and his limbs are all rather lean, but his thighs provide an adequate amount of support for his ‘hips.’ He’d prefer terms like ‘full’ or ‘shapely’ over ‘thick’ or ‘well-rounded,’ but all apply. He’s shy in comparison to his father, who prefers the inverse to be said about himself. It’s generally best to not mention how attracted you are to his ass his broad hips, he's a bit embarrassed of his curves.

He stands comfortably at a nice 177 cm, or 5’8”. He’s often teased by Guido for being ‘so small,’ despite Narancia being the shortest. (Guido doesn’t want to get stabbed at nine in the morning.) His hands are slender, and delicate-looking. He has long fingers that he lets bugs and small animals crawl all over. He prefers not to wear nail polish at all, and dislikes wearing rings. 

Giorno is such a pale white that you can see the blue of his veins on parts of his chest. There’s little bits of pink towards the tips of his fingers, but the rest of his skin is almost pure white. It would be concerning if you didn’t know he gets plenty of sun- how he manages to stay that shade and practically live in the sun is beyond you. 

Giorno has a bit of a baby face still, he has very round features, besides from his eyes. He's a victim of that phenomenon where strangers trust you because of your ‘welcoming’ face, despite the fact that Giorno rarely smiles unless he wants something. His hair is naturally somewhere between wavy and curly, and falls down to his hips when it isn’t in a braid. After he becomes the don of passione, he wears it down more often. He thinks it helps attract new recruits- and he’s right, it does. If you’re attracted to full, heart-shaped lips and long eyelashes, Giorno will have you wrapped around his finger. 

He smells like flowers, white jasmine and roses to be specific.

Don’t talk to me about Bruno’s hourglass. He has a bit more shoulders, so I’m tempted to say he has a different body type, but it’s so slight that you wouldn’t notice unless you were taking his measurements, so I won’t count it. 

His muscle is from hard labor rather than consistently working out- habits from when he was just a baby helping his father- Bruno doesn’t exactly have time to do a real routine, and he neglects himself too much for it to work. While he does have a good bit of muscle, he isn’t as well-defined as someone like Leone or Risotto is. He can’t do a calorie deficit, he needs that food to keep working as hard as he possibly can. If he stops eating as much, he can’t work, and then he couldn’t protect you or his family (same thing), and, and, and, and. He eats well, he just doesn’t sleep enough. He’d probably stop worrying if he did. Most of his muscle is in his arms, back, and legs. 

Bruno is a strong man, he prides himself on being able to physically protect his darling. His looks aren’t a big deal to him, but he does enjoy taking care of himself. He wouldn’t have such a high maintenance haircut otherwise. He dislikes makeup on himself, but he grooms himself excessively- he isn’t one for long routines and expensive skincare, but he appreciates a nice cleanser and moisturizer, which he also uses on his hands. Bruno will sometimes put clear nail polish on just his hands, if he remembers it. 

Bruno is 183 cm, or 6ft. His height isn’t overbearing- in fact, he just makes the cusp of what most people would call ‘tall’ for a man- but he isn’t small, either. He’d love to share clothes with his darling, but if he cannot fit into yours, he’ll settle for giving you his. If you make him seem small, he’d happily wear some of yours, too. 

His skin tone is a light brown, although it pales slightly in the winter. He spends a lot of time in the sun, on top of his natural complexion. His undertones are warm.

Bruno's only tattoo is the one on his chest. It covers part of his stomach, as well.

Leone has lots of birthmarks scattered all over him. He stands at 195 cm, or 6’5”. I tend to think of Leone with more shoulders than hips, but he has a small waist, and it isn’t like his hips aren’t grabbable.

It makes him feel better about himself to work out consistently, so he kept his morning habits from his younger days. While he wishes he could say he works out for his health, it’s just because he doesn’t feel good unless he looks good, and that’s how he’d like himself to look. He has very prominent iliac crests, and a well defined torso. Most of the ‘fat’ in his body is in his tits. (Author’s note: Although it’s more appropriate to say muscle, since building muscle is how men get a larger chest, I’m using ‘fat’ for a better visual. When pectoral muscles relax, they appear squishy and pliable like most women’s chests do, so it isn’t entirely outlandish.) 

He has a thorough routine for his skin- he even has a separate one for his hands, which doesn’t work very well. Leone’s hands look smooth, but they’re a bit rough from work. His nails are fairly long, and natural. Painted either black or a deep red. He shapes them into coffins. They break easily. 

When he’s stressed, he tweezes his eyebrows. He makes them thin, and follows the natural small arch he has. Leone’s eyes are actually brown, he just puts contacts in to match his makeup for the day. He puts eyeliner on his waterline, like how you’d put kohl on.

I’ve mentioned briefly before that Leone has darker skin than in canon, but I specifically meant a dark brown complexion over just a tan one. He has cool undertones. 

While he doesn’t have any tattoos, he has a few piercings. His nipples, belly button, and nose are all pierced. The side of his nose, not a septum. 

Narancia gets pretty pissed when you mention that he’s 164 cm, or 5'3”. He’s still got some years before his body hits its limit, alright. He’s horribly jealous of Guido’s physique, he doesn’t understand how he’s doing the same things but Guido has way more mass than him. It just so isn’t fair. 

While he does have very distinct muscle, I wouldn’t call Narancia big. He cuts without realizing it- he has food right in front of him, but hasn’t fixed his eating habits from living on the street. If you praise his abs and arms, he’ll let you feel.

Narancia’s a light tan sort of beige. He tans every year without fail. It makes him sad to see himself pale, as it reminds him of his mother, who had the same complexion. 

He has a few tattoos, all of which are stick-and-poke, and done by himself through boredom. The designs are nonsensical and don’t mean much to him. He has tons of piercings, done by Pannacotta in a bathroom for the promise of not having to do household chores. Both his nose piercing and eyebrow rejected, so he settled for torturing his ears. 

He hates makeup, nail polish, and skincare routines. Narancia's skin is somehow perfect. It's debatable if he cleans his piercings out every once in a while or not. Narancia's hands are very square, and his nails are so short that them growing past his finger tips is a miracle.

Guido stands at about 190 cm, or 6’3”. I’d give him a smidge more at most, but he just isn’t as tall as Leone. Guido has a tendency to slouch when he sits, but loves to straighten his back out when he’s standing next to someone shorter. The first thing he did in purple haze feedback was check if Panna had him yet- and was secretly overjoyed that he wasn’t even close. 

Guido’s normally smiling- the only time he isn’t is when he’s truly alone, working, or genuinely pissed off. He’ll have deep smile lines when he’s older. It’s more of a grin than a smile, really- he finds amusement in the oddest of things. 

The only word that comes to mind is how big Guido is; Guido’s sizable nature is one of the first things you’d notice about him. It’s almost criminal to focus more on his chest- the man has ass and the thighs to back it up. Guido has a very full figure, he prefers bulking over cutting by far, and he doesn’t work out just to look good. He wants to be strong, and his job is very demanding. It just works. (It makes him feel useful.) Guido gets up when the sun does to work out, every day, probably for the rest of his life. He has a visible Adonis belt, but not a very deep, defined one. While the crease is there, he’d never intentionally lower his body fat percentage to match someone like Leone’s.  

His eyebrows are thick and straight. He cleans them up as best as he can, but hates doing it himself, so he makes Leone do his for him, in exchange for doing the dishes that night. (Leone normally turns the television up so he doesn’t have to hear Guido whine about how much painnnnn he’s innnn.) He doesn’t cut his own hair either, but doesn’t trust anyone on the team to get his curls right, so goes to a professional for trims. He started wearing hats because of a bad cut, but the pressure was comforting. 

Nothing irritates me more than when people take away Guido’s color. You are out of your MIND if you think he’s any lighter than a medium brown- and that’s being a bit generous. He has warm undertones, and gets as much sun as he can year-round. 

He doesn’t use cologne, and uses an unscented bar soap. Guido understands the importance of a good conditioner, but body soap? It’s all soap, man. Bar soap is fine, costs less, too. He tries to take care of himself, but isn't excessive about it. His nails are short and clean, but he doesn't trim the hair on his knuckles until Trish points out how noticeable it is.

Guido has a few tattoos, all of which he whined through getting. He decided to have the majority of them on his upper arms. They’re all biblical. He has a tendency to grab the bicep with Saint Mary on it when he’s nervous. He thought about piercing his belly button, but pussied out when he saw the needle. 

After the events of vento aureo, he got an orange on his upper back. 

Pannacotta is 180 cm, or 5’11”. He used to be the same height as Giorno, but gained some height over the course of Purple Haze Feedback, and now has to look down at his boss to make eye contact. He’s rather lean, and a bit ‘flat’ all around- he lacks a prominent waist as well.  

His complexion is very fair, and sort of pinkish. He doesn’t tan well at all, and is often teased by Narancia for it. His hair is entirely white- it's common to hear that it's because of stress, but he was just born like that.

Most people would describe Pannacotta as ‘pretty’ rather than ‘handsome.’ He wouldn't consider himself so, as he’s not actually all that feminine he just hangs out with two very masculine types and seems it in comparison, but he doesn’t mind. Well. He does. He hates feeling people stare at him when they obviously have intentions, but a little compliment is just a little compliment. 

He takes care of his hands and feet, but doesn’t like colored nail polish. He borrows Bruno’s clear polish. Pannacotta likes strawberry scented soap, and would buy a body spray that smells similar, if he was aware it existed.

He only has his ears pierced, and no tattoos. He almost trusted Narancia enough to give him a tattoo, but decided against it when he realized Narancia had the freedom to not listen. 

Trish doesn’t really have any muscle, but she is skinny. She looks significantly more like Diavolo than Donatella, which is horribly ironic. She’s slightly above average height for a girl her age, just shy of Giorno’s height, although seemingly short in comparison to the ridiculously tall cast of vento aureo. 

Trish’s complexion is (exactly) sort of like Diavolo’s- a light brown, with cool undertones. She tends to avoid the sun, and will slather on sunscreen to avoid getting a tan. She’s afraid of ‘aging early.’ 

Trish makes a lot of the same expressions as Diavolo- her annoyance, joy, even her anxiety all bear some resemblance. Before he left, Donatella would joke about using him as a blueprint. 

She gets her nails done professionally, and tends to go for acrylics over her natural nails. Trish prefers small, almond-ish shaped nails, with a lot of designs or charms. She just gets solid color on her toes. 

Trish is the type of girl to use five different washcloths in the same shower. She has an extensive hygiene routine, and all of her soaps are chosen to complement the smell of her favorite liquid body soap- which is a nice vanilla in winter, and coconut in summer. 

While Trish is a “You wouldn’t put a bumper sticker on a Bentley” kind of girl, she does have a few piercings. Her ears, nose, and belly button are all adorned with the shiniest, blinged-out piece of jewelry she could find. 

[soufcakmistress]

new love on the near northside

A/N: haters that ruin the fun will get blessed out and blocked! find someone else to play with, tysm :) this is for all the sydcarmy truthers like me who’ve been in a spiral for two years

Pairing: Sydney Adamu x Carmen Berzatto

“All right chefs, we need to fire four prime ribs, two lobster risottos, and four cream puffs!”

“Yes, Chef!”

“Marcus, 86 the mascarpone for the cherry tart on 20!”

“Heard, chef!”

“Okay I need to see hands!”

The waitstaff gingerly grab the plated dishes from the final station, while Carmy is gently yet firmly reminding them not to smudge the plates as they’re being taken to their respective tables. Dinner service is in an awesome groove right now and Syd is feeling confident tonight. She’s still riding on a high from the last food critic that visited from the Chicago Tribune, who raved over her braised short rib and orzo pasta. There are also other reasons for Syd’s good mood.

“Open your legs, Syd..”

Syd shudders, takes three deep breaths and continues to fire off orders from the expo. The Bear has been packed almost every single night for three weeks. They don’t have much of a waitlist yet, but word of mouth moves quickly in Chicago and the front of house are noticing some repeat customers already.

Carmy joined Syd at the expo, and she can still pick up the scent of his cologne even in the midst of garlic, heavy cream and raw seafood. If she even peeks at him, she’ll lose her train of thought, and that’s the last thing the team needs right now. After having to let go of Josh after his unfortunate episode, her sous Tina has been pulling double time, covering both stations like a champ. She makes a mental note to give her an unbelievable gift and some love this weekend. “How are we doing, Chef? We cool?”

His eyes are so crystal clear and she recollects how he stares through her when they….oh fuck. “Yes, Chef. Runners are getting everything out in a timely manner, and we are turning these tables around. You?”

“Carmy, Carmy, yes—oh!”

Carmy licks and bites his lips and smirks. “Yes Chef. You’re the captain of this ship.” He squeezes her shoulder and goes back to his station as their boucher, Daniela checks in with Carmy about the fat trimmings for their beef.

Fak, Richie and Sweeps were holding down the front since Nat is on maternity leave. Carmy keeps a wallet size photo of his brand new nephew at his station, looking occasionally with a smile. Forty five more minutes before dinner service is over and Syd can finally go puke out back. “Chefs, we’re almost in the clear! Let’s keep up the momentum and sense of urgency!”

“Yes, Chef!”

Every dish is gorgeous. So many painstaking hours reworking the menu. Chaos menu, thoughtful chaos menu, back to chaos menu again. Reviewing and poring over Carmy’s intricate drawings, all the late night sessions, so much money spent on ingredients—it was enough to make Syd’s head spin. Hence why, almost a month since The Bear opened she’s still subsisting on a diet of Tums and Pepto.

She’s eternally grateful for her partners. Nat and Cicero have saved all their asses more times than they can count. Cicero is a hard ass but he adores Carmy and Sugar and has grown to love Syd as well. And of course, the best chef she’s ever had the privilege of working beside is her executive chef, business partner, best friend and now lover.

“Look at you. You’re so wet baby. Fuck—”

~

They’ve managed to keep their love affair under wraps for this long. It’s a struggle not to be able to touch each other when they’re working. Tina and Marcus are too perceptive; they would be found out immediately. Still, Sydney feels like a giddy school girl whenever Carmy corners her in the office as they open the restaurant every morning—both of his hands by her sides keeping her close. He’s so incredibly sexy without even trying and she still gets shy sometimes. He has to pull her chin from her shoulder and make her look at him.

“Don’t run away from me. You know I won’t let you..” And those ocean blue eyes of his again….and his lips are feather light on top of hers. Her knees are ready to buckle and Carmy sensed as much, so he pulls her close to the hardness of his chest and stomach to keep her standing.

She loves how his stubble feels on her chin and cheeks, especially when he drags his mouth down her jaw and lightly sucks on her neck. “Carm, Carm, Carm, oh my god, don’t! If they see me with a hickey when I didn’t have one yesterday, how do I explain that?” Her face is hurting, she’s cheesing so hard.

One hand slides up her chef whites, slipping under her camisole and his agile fingers pinch her nipple while his tongue circles her earlobe. Syd’s learned that Carmy is insatiable. For someone to not be as experienced as he claims—his hands, lips, tongue…always seem to go exactly where she needs them to. “I can’t help it, Chef. You’re just so damn beautiful.”

Syd’s hands roam all over his thick biceps and eventually land in the bushy mess atop his head. Their tongues lave and suck on each other’s and their moans can’t be held back any longer. Carmy pulls her leg up to his hip while he grips her braids, until he hears Marcus and Sweeps come through the back door. They separate quickly and get themselves together. Lusty gazes linger between them and they’re both aching between their legs. Carmy is as red as a beet, and Syd’s lips are swollen from his kisses and nipping. “Right, thank you chef.” Syd walks out first awkwardly with wobbly legs that make Carmy chuckle.

~

Dinner service is over—the kitchen has been scrubbed down, trash taken out, perishables have been stocked away in the lowboys and walk-in, and the back of house staff has skated out. It’s just Carmen and Sydney, in their brand new restaurant. “I’m beat. You got all your stuff right?”

Syd has an overnight bag with everything she needs for a weekend with her babe. “Yes, I do! Are you..ready to go?” Carmy grabs the weekend bag along with her hand and they walk in tandem to his car.

Carmy has been seeing a therapist in addition to the Al-anon meetings and Sydney can tell a difference already. He’s slower to rant and rave and owns up to his mistakes. More eager to hear people out. She’s proud of him—he’s suffered through a lot to make it to this point. They eventually arrive to his apartment and a shower is the first order of business. Syd loves the water pressure at Carmy’s place and taking showers together has been great for their newfound intimacy. They undress each other, Syd pulls her braids up in a high bun, and they just hold each other under the steaming water. This is their time. Away from The Bear. Away from Chicago. Away from the many demands and decisions they’re forced to confront every single day.

Carmy washes her with her pink loofah that’s been made a permanent staple in his bathroom. This is all new to Syd; her heart blooms in her chest at these big feelings she’s experiencing. He’s gentle and doesn’t leave an inch of skin untouched. Syd washes his hair with his expensive shampoo and Carmy’s eyes close in ecstasy. They needed this tenderness. They deserved it.

All cleaned up and fresh, they mosey back to the kitchen for a late night meal. Habits are hard to break. “Spaghetti?” Carmy suggests.

“Yes oh my goodness. Butttt use bucatini instead. And all the cheese.” He smiles in agreement and pecks her on the lips and gets out all the ingredients they need. Julia Child is on in the background on a public access channel, as they converse about the restaurant and Carmy’s nephew and Sydney’s dad and Carmy’s dysfunctional family, the deep loss Syd still feels at the absence of her mom for most of her life. More tenderness.

Pasta is rolled out. Meat sauce is sautéed, seasoned and almost ready. The Shiraz is poured. Carmy can’t stop staring at her in his shirt and boxers. She’s so cute. The pasta boils and he watches her watching the program, fully enthralled. Everything is finally done; he plates everything in his unique Carmy way and Syd audibly orgasms at how the savory flavors meld together especially with the wine.

He grates more pecorino over the pasta and the lull in conversation is comfortable and warm. Not awkward and full of anxiety like with Donna….leaving him constantly overthinking and being afraid to speak. Sydney seemingly knows what he’s going to say before he does and that brings him comfort. They’re in crystal clear alignment on every way and he now knows a semblance of peace.

“Fuck. This is good.” Sydney is damn near scraping the plate, while Carmy is smiling the biggest she’d ever seen from him. They both love when the other eats their food. That sense of pride is undeniable.

“I’m glad you enjoyed, Chef. Anything for you.” He winks at her and she gets bashful and mumbled out that she’s going to take care of the dishes since he cooked. To his surprise, he’s a little more tipsy than he realized from the Shiraz. Carmy drains his glass and pours himself another, while checking Syd’s frame out. His boxers are screaming for relief and a little moan eeks out of him before he can stop it. Thankfully Syd isn’t aware of his moment of weakness.

Carmy swallows and wipes his lips and moseys behind his girlfriend. Kissing and nipping. “I’m almost done here, Carm..” Syd whines a bit at his ministrations and drops the plate into the soapy water.

“Yeah. Not fast enough for me..” Carmy turns her around and leaps with his tongue and mouth first. Her hands are dripping wet but she doesn’t waste a second grabbing his head of wild curls and taking what he has to give. Carmy grabs her legs to wrap them around his waist and Syd can periodically feel him thrust up into her mound, wailing for stimulation that only he can provide.

Their shared affection overpowers the television, and Carmy feels his way down the hallway with his baby in his arms. His love, that saved him in so many ways. He pulls his shirt off, she takes hers off. She takes his boxers off that she had on and she lays on his bed, naked as the day she was born. “Fuck me, Carmen.”

She held in her amusement because his entire neck and face was blood red with the pupils of his eyes blown out. Syd knows that he’s doing everything he can to stay contained, but he knows her better by now—she does what she wants. So she spreads her legs for him and twirls her clit in tandem with a brown nipple. Carmy’s about to explode.

He drops to his knees and explores her love below like it’s never been done before. “Sydney, why do you taste so good? Why do you do this to me..” She relishes in the fact that he’s potentially bruising her with the vice grip he has on her thighs, but yet she’s so afraid that she’s gonna squirt in his face if he keeps gently sucking her clit in and out of his lips like that. His manicured fingers enter her canal one after the other and prompt her to let go. “CARMYYYYYYY!”

His whole chest is drenched, and his eyes are shut tight, his deft fingers rubbing tight circles around her clit with a precision that only an executive chef named Carmen Anthony Berzatto could deliver. Sydney pushed his head away and she’s left trembling with watery eyes. “I-I—i didn’t know I could do that!”

Carmy just smirks and wipes his mouth and drops his pants. Syd still can’t get over him. He has even more tattoos that can’t be readily seen on a day to day basis, he is so cut and muscled and has a cock that should be cast in 24 karat gold. Don’t sleep on the short kings.

“Turn around.” His voice leaves no room for pushback, and she can barely raise up on her knees before he’s manhandling her. He’s learned that he loves doggy with Syd. With her ass high in the air, she is getting impatient as well and reaches behind her to line him up with her slit. Carmy catches his lip in his teeth as he pushes forward and they both groan out a “fuck” that only they could wholly grasp.

On the first stroke, he’s all the way in and Syd fees his sack grazing over her entrance. They’re both in a trance. Carmy has visions of Syd cooking, smiling, cumming, revolving in his mind as well as the score of the last White Sox home game so he doesn’t bust his load quick. Syd can’t get the thought of how intense and sweet he gazes at her. How he commands their team, how his talent speaks for itself, how fucking sexy his jawline is, how big his heart is. How lucky is she? To fall in love with her idol, mentor, boss….and to have him love her back.

The bed is beginning to bounce off the wall. Their volume increases as Syd can’t hold herself up anymore and they fall into collapsed doggy with their fingers interlocked. “I’m so glad you found me. I love you Syd, I love you, I fucking—fucking love you baby!” That set Sydney off for the most expansive and overwhelming orgasm of the night, taking her beau with her over the edge. Carmy’s sweaty forehead lays on Sydney’s right temple—both of them with tears in their eyes.

Carmy kissed every finger tip until their mouths met again, both letting their waterlogged eyes flow free. “I know. I love you too Carmy. We’re never alone.”

“We’re never alone.”

[tgmsunmontue]

It's all academic darlin' PART 4/10

We have a final count for parts! 16k+ Hangster AU. IceMav is only really in Part 4 as background (and again in part 9 maybe?) Will be finished by 14th January 2024.

SUMMARY: Bradley is a professor but living his best life with IceMav parents. Jake is a pilot. Maverick sort-of tries (and fails) to play matchmaker, so he tries again. Touch of epistolary and sprinkling of one-sided unknown/mistaken-identity.

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

PART 4

                The only downside of getting picked up by Mav is that he doesn’t get to go straight home. He’s used to it though. His apartment will be stuffy after being closed up for nearly three weeks. Although he knows Kezia will have been around diligently ensuring all his house plants remain alive and well. She does it when he’s at home, knowing that Bradley only needs to look at some of the plants sideways before they decide to shrivel up and die. Doesn’t stop people giving him plants as gifts though. He’s past the point of no return, people assuming he likes them because he has them, and since he relegated their care to Kezia he doesn’t mind them. The plants and himself will survive a couple more hours.

                Something smells good when he gets out of the car, and his mouth floods with saliva. Ice started cooking more when he was stressed, much to Bradley’s benefit when he was growing up because Mav lives on food he can defrost or re-heat. Ice is the one who taught him how to cook, one of the life skills he’s most grateful for. He unlaces his boots and lines them against the wall, respects the tidiness and order that Ice likes; even if Bradley leaves his shoes lying wherever he leaves them once he’s kicked them off in his own apartment. He calls out a hello and heads through to the kitchen, Mav trailing after him.

                Ice gives him a smile and a one-armed hug, other hand busy stirring something on the stove Bradley identifies as a risotto. He grabs two beers out of the fridge, pops the caps and watches as Mav sticks his finger in the risotto, complains about it being hot and crunchy and Ice makes a pained face before he pushes Mav out of the kitchen, signing that he’ll join them shortly. It’s warm out so they head to the back patio, and Bradley can see Ice preparing other things and he had to admit he loves the tradition of their welcome home meal.

                It had started when Mav would get home from deployment. When he was older, Bradley would cook when Ice got back from being away. Then Ice would cook when Bradley got back; even when he hasn’t even left the country, the fact that whenever he goes away somewhere for more than a couple of nights, he comes home to Ice’s cooking and Mav wanting a full debrief of his time away. He settles into one of the loungers and takes a sip of beer, waits for Mav to start in on the questions he no doubt has.

                “So, what did you think of Hangman?” Mav asks, and Bradley frowns, because he has no idea what Mav is talking about. “Jake,” Mav provides and Bradley supposes he should have guessed, although he’d love to know the story behind that callsign.

                “Oh. Nice enough I guess? Polite?”

                “Jake Seresin was polite?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Really?”

                “Why do you seem upset about that? What?  Did you want him to be mean to me?”

                “Well, you do like them with a little, uh, fire.”

                Bradley chokes on the mouthful of beer and stares. What the actual fuck?

                “Dad! Fuck’s sake! Did you try and organize a…” his mind scrambles. “A date?” He finally settles on. Booty call sounds ancient, and hook up when his father figure organized it… not great either. Mav looks pleased, the way he always does when Bradley calls him Dad. He’s shaking his head though.

                “No. Not intentionally. I didn’t think your paths would cross as much as they did. Thought you’d be back before he got there actually. Took him long enough to accept my offer. He… hmm.”

                Bradley’s used to sentences trailing away, often when Mav realizes he’s about to say something he either shouldn’t or made a connection between two or more salient points and his mind is now off on a tangent somewhere else. If he’s a little patient it comes back soon enough.

                “Hangman seems like your type.”

                Bradley snorts and shakes his head.

                “Well, I don’t think I’m his. He didn’t even give me a once over.” Or offer up his number when Bradley sort-of suggested he get his contact details from Mav. It’s fine really, he’s not looking for anything right now, quite happy with the status quo. He has people who can scratch his itch if it comes down to it.

                “Hmm. That doesn’t sound like him at all. I always got the impression that everyone is his type. Alive and breathing. And you cooked him breakfast.”

                “Oh wow, thanks for that ego boost right there… alive and breathing. Biggest compliment. And I was just trying to get rid of the leftovers.”

                Mav laughs and shakes his head, takes a sip from his bottle.

                “You always make breakfast when you’re trying to impress someone.”

                “Seriously, I was trying to use the food. I didn’t feel any need to impress Jake.”

                “I’m sure he was impressed anyway, pretty sure I heard that he managed to set fire to ramen.”

                Bradley frowns, because that doesn’t gel at all with the guy who had made bread from scratch, in an unfamiliar kitchen with no yeast… Huh. Interesting.

                “He told me he knew how to cook…” Bradley says, taking a small sip, his mind still wondering what kind of persona Jake Seresin portrays to other people if Mav is surprised he was polite and can’t cook. A jackass that is usually incompetent in the kitchen? He’s used to naval aviators and their egos

                “Well, if the cabin burns down I guess we’ll find out who’s right.”

                Bradley rolls his eyes and simply shrugs, is pretty sure there’s no danger of that happening.

                “Not that it matters, because we didn’t exchange contact details. But I’m guessing he has your seal of approval…”

                Mav hums non-committedly and Bradley resists rolling his eyes this time. The muscles in his eye sockets need a break.

                “He saved my life.”

                “What?” Bradley hates hearing about it, knows Mav is safe and sound right in front of him, but the almost flippant way he says saved my life like it isn’t something someone would ever consider saving makes his heart hurt in the worst way.

                “My last ever mission, and you don’t know this, but he disobeyed direct orders and came after me.”

                “Jesus Mav…” His throat is tight and eyes prickle.

                “Yep.”

                The mood is immediately somber and he casts around for something, anything, to lighten the mood, because doing this whole emotion thing isn’t something they ever linger on.

                “So, what, you wanted me to give him a thank you BJ?”

                Ice comes out, fingers snapping to get their attention and they both turn.

                “Who is getting thankyou blowjobs?”Ice asks and Bradley wishes the sign for blowjob were a little less visually descriptive. He really doesn’t need the mental image, although at least he’s no longer thinking about Mav dying.

                “No one!” Bradley groans.

                “Nothing wrong with your hearing is there…” Mav grins, eyes crinkled warm and tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth and Bradley has seen this look too many times now to know his parental figures are now making eyes at each other over the top of his head. He turns away so they can have some privacy and he doesn’t need to see any more explicit signs. Ice clicks his fingers again and he looks back, his expression one of clear forbearance but all Ice does is smirk at him. Asshole.

                “Dinner’s ready. Come eat.”

                They settle at the table and Bradley lets the flow of conversation travel around him, chiming in when needed, half-follows the conversation about something Ice is doing with work. Dinner is a delicate zucchini and garlic risotto with grilled chicken thighs and a side-salad, pretty low-key except for the risotto. He answers questions about the smoker he’d fixed up so that Ice can use it next time he actually uses his vacation days and catches fish. Mav hassles him about it never happening before and Bradley enjoys being back in the familiar home with them bickering with one another.

                “You also work too much,” Mav says, turning to him and Bradley looks to Ice for backup.

                “Hello pot, I’d like you to meet kettle. Anyway, I just had ten days at the cabin. That’s plenty restful.”

                Ice is shaking silently with amusement and Bradley points to him.

                “See, Ice agrees. You’re the biggest hypocrite.”

                “That ten days was meant to be three weeks.”

                “You’ve been retired for months. You need a hobby,” Ice says, adding some signs for breaking things and that always fucking means Bradley’s on the ropes for fixing them and he pulls a face, shaking his head and giving Ice a betrayed look.

                “Meddling with Bradley’s love life is my new hobby.”

                “The fuck it is. No. Pick a different hobby.”

                “He could look after your plants…” Ice interjects, his sign for plants though is dead plants and Bradley pulls another face and gives him the finger which just makes him laugh roughly, making the sign for apple and tree before laughing again. He’s glad someone is enjoying themselves.

                “Why do I have to be involved at all? What about another fixer-upper? Bike or plane?” Ice pulls a face and slaps his arm. “Model planes? That’d be more affordable. And take up less space?”

                “And boring as hell.”

                “Learn to cook!”

                “No!” Ice actually says, voice low and rough, the look of sheer horror on his face makes Bradley snort.

                “Mav cooking is exciting at least!”

                “Waste of good ingredients,” Ice signs, mouth pulled down in displeasure now that said hobbies are encroaching on his territory. Fuck, they’re going to have to come up with something together otherwise Mav will annoy the shit out of them both. Maybe his love life is the safest, he’s had plenty of practice in ignoring Mav at least.

                “Hey, I could learn to cook! I’m sure you could both teach me…” Bradley winces, because trying to teach Mav anything is painful and Ice seems to agree, hands flashing quickly with cannot teach, pushing his chair back and shaking his head before walking away while Mav blusters and says he’s perfectly capable of taking direction. Bradley snorts because that’s a load of bullshit and he finds himself making that sign automatically.

                “Giving me the bird while you walk away doesn’t count as getting the final word in!” Mav calls at Ice’s retreating back, before turning to Bradley. “I could learn to cook you know, if I put my mind to it.”

                “Mav, we all have our personal strengths and weaknesses…”

                Mav’s eyes narrow and Bradley smirks, because it’s exactly a line that Mav has given him more than once when he’s struggled with not being good at something.

                “Also Ice and I both enjoy cooking. You view it as a chore.”

                “I do worry about you though, your work…”

                Bradley sighs, pushes his empty plate away and rubs at his temple.

                “Mav… my job is safe. Imagine how you’d feel if I had joined the Navy and went on deployment for months on end?”

                “You went and lived in Europe for three years!”

                “To do my doctorate. And now I’m back and have been for over a decade. Mav, I’m… I love my job okay? You love flying, and Ice… and I get that you want me to have what you have with Ice. But I’m okay. I’m happy. I have plenty of friends, and while I get it might be nice to have someone at home, I don’t need that to be happy. Also I actually really enjoy the novelty of not feeling guilty for not ignoring my partner because of work,” he states, because that is what had been the demise of his last relationship and Mav fucking knows it too.

                “Do you think it would be different with the right person though?”

                “Oh for… please don’t start. Look, if something happens, it happens. But it’s not a priority for me right now.”

                “I was just hoping for grandkids…”

                “Bullshit. You’ve got plenty of young people in your life. And I don’t want kids. You know that. Amelia scares the shit out of me and I have to work with too many teenagers as it is already.”

                “Yeah, you’re lucky you survived your teen years. Ice and I held each other back from killing you on multiple occasions.”

                “Sure Mav…”

                “Why do you always think I’m lying when I say that?”

PART FIVE

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Ungrateful Hearts pt2

“Is it true miss?” The boy asked about the story you'd told the children. Hansel and Gretal

“I'm not quite sure, hopefully not… I haven't seen any candy houses from all my time gathering as a kid” you replied. One of the other carers rolled her eyes at your response.

‘Don't wind up the children’ you were constantly told but you didn't listen. These poor children were constantly hauled up in the orphanage. They needed a little magic in their lives.

“Do you think Santa will come this year?” One of the others asked. You felt your stomach drop. Last year not a single toy had been donated and you had to explain that Santa's sleigh had broken down.

“Yes, and I'm sure he'll make it up to us for not being able to come last year” you told them.

🎁🎁🎁

“Hello, the time of giving is near! I came to ask if you'd be charitable and donate any old toys to those who have no family this Christmas” you spoke with a smile from house to house. Either being told no or having the door slammed in your face.

Maybe they were busy or sick? Surely knowing now they would take the time to go through their things.

You huffed as you walked home, you'd most likely have to buy the toys this year… you'd have to tightly budget as the orphanage had its funding cut again. Hopefully there should be food donations coming in soon.

Through a crystal ball he watched you almost everyday. You slaved away constantly trying to make other lives better, alway having hope in those who were too far gone. Humans who could care less about those in need. He wondered why you still even offered them such kindness when it was clearly unwarranted.

He would have raided the town by now if it weren't for you. You still desperately clung onto the memories of those who helped others in their time of need, those who had were now either gone or dead.

“So how is your love doing?” He could hear a familiar voice behind him. What he was doing wasn't a well kept secret with the group. The moment he'd found the thing he'd locked himself in his quarters. Melone and Prosciutto were the only two that knew exactly why he always did so. Melone actually recognized you as he had previously been at the orphanage himself before he'd ran away. Occasionally seeing you in town grabbing supplies.

Risotto didn't respond to the question however.

“Why don't we just raid the town and pick her up?” Melone suggested as he rested his doll like prosthetic arm around his shoulder, Risotto still remembers the day they found him out in the snow bleeding out after a vicious attack. Both his arms and a leg were far too injured to fully recover. So Prosciutto had used his knowledge on black magic to replace them with wooden prosthetics that he would be able to use as if they were his real ones. Everyone here were outcasts, others like him who had seen the wickedness of the world firsthand and fled. You were blind, deluding yourself into believing all had goodness in them.

Risotto considered the idea before but he didn't want to scare you. He was not the same as the child you'd saved and he feared you would react like everyone else, flee in his presence.

“As long as she still has hope in that town I refuse to destroy it” he replied.

🎁🎁🎁

As Christmas approached you spent your nights tightly budgeting for Christmas day. Making sure each child had at least one gift all rounding the same price each. Eventually you had gotten everything with money to spare to get two hams the night beforehand you felt proud of yourself for doing all of it. You were determined to make Christmas the best for the kids.

Risotto was proud of your work, even if he thought it would be in vain. He knew eventually something would happen.

Every time he saw you sleep his heart ached. Seeing you sleep so peacefully, he wanted to be beside you once more. Embrace you and feel the warmth of your presence. He wanted you to no longer worry. For your kindness to be his and his alone.

🎁🎁🎁

“Did you hear about the town up north?” One of the other ladies asked you in the tea room.

“No” you replied.

“the town was burnt to the ground, they claim that Krampus was behind it” she told you.

“That's horrible but who's Krampus?” You gasped.

“Oh you never heard about Krampus? Its an old folk tale, they would say that Krampus, a demon with large goat horns would steal away naughty children away on Christmas… but nothing was ever mentioned of burning down towns” she explained

“Do you think it's true?” You asked.

“Of course not, nothing but a folk tale. people just being hysteric” she sneered.

“Ladies, we have a problem” one of the other carers entered with an empty donation box. Yesterday it had a few cans.

“Daliah, did you bring it in last night?” she asked.

“Oh no I completely forgot” she gasped.

“Then rodents must have taken them,” one lady said.

“No it couldn't have been, someone must have stolen them” another lady said.

You felt your stomach drop, how could someone do this.

“We shouldn't worry, more should come as Christmas draws closer” she said, she was probably right more would come.

But no more came, you hated taking advantage of people's emotions but the only way you could see the orphanage getting more donations was to try and pull on the townsfolk's heartstrings.

So you took the children out into town caroling. Yet everyone seemed too busy to give the children any attention. You could see the disappointment that the kids had.

“Let's wrap it up for today” you told the kids before an unfamiliar, finely dressed blonde man approached you.

“Excuse me ma'am” he said to get your attention and you turned to him.

“Yes sir?” You asked, he held out a closed hand and you held out yours. He gave you a satchel of coins.

“Oh thank you so much” you thanked him.

“Don't thank me, I'm merely the deliverer” he told you before leaving. Odd you thought but it was a kind gesture. You wondered who on earth was behind it.

Once you got back to the orphanage you opened the satchel to count the coins until you found a small note.

‘the people of this town do not deserve your kindness (y/n)

-R’

R? You raked your brain. No it couldn't be him after all these years. What had he done after all this time? If he was affiliated with the man from earlier you could only speculate that he was in a better situation.

🎁🎁🎁

It was Christmas eve and you had spent the day shopping for tomorrow's lunch. Now you were stuck in line waiting at the butchers to get the two legs of ham you needed. You Patiently waited until it was your turn.

“hello could I please get two legs of ham please you asked as you stood in front of the counter.

“That'll be twenty pounds” he told you, causing your heart to sink. They were eighteen pounds the other day, that was all you had left.

“I only have eighteen” you told him but he quickly cut you off.

“Then one leg it is” he told you. That wouldn't be enough for all the children.

“Sir, could I please get both now? I promise you I'll pay you back when I can but right now I have to grab enough for the children” you explained but he shook his head.

“No can do, it's a high demand item” he told you with little care. You felt your blood boil, was this man really going to tell you no over two pounds? Let children starve?

“Sir, I don't think you understand-”

“If you aren't going to buy then get out, you're holding up the line” he said. You gritted your teeth, you'd never felt this angry before. No you were not going to let It get the better of you so you stormed out.

“Really? Over two pounds” you muttered to yourself as you looked at the snow blanketed ground.

You stomped around until you came across a rock, fairly good size to throw. A horrible thought played out in your head. You wouldn't usually act upon such an impulse but you were still seething. How could someone do such a thing and no one in the line even offered to help you, despite knowing the reason.

Maybe that letter was true, people like that didn't deserve your kindness. People that couldn't even offer you kindness in return for all you had done.

So you did as you thought and hurled the rock at the butcher's window, causing it to smash.

“Merry Christmas you greedy bastards!” You yelled before running home. Guilt soon sinking in about what you did.

For Risotto it was all he needed to hear to finally target the town. Prosciutto within earshot, ready to finally explain the truth to the others.

[bakugou-jpg]

JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE 42 SPOILER

Content warning: 18+, Jujutsu kaisen spoiler, ANGST, established relationship, character death.

Summary:

Perhaps in another life, Nanami Kento would not have gone to Shibuya. In another life he would be on that beach in Malaysia.

In another life, he would be with you at that restaurant.

A/n: This is to all my widowed babes out there, take these flowers if you will💐. Check in on your Nanami stan friends today, we are in MOURNING. Excuse the quality haven’t posted on three years and I’m a bit rusty y’all💔

____________________________________________

“Go, Kento I’ll be fine..”

Her voice was soft, hand sliding over his suit jacket towards his tie to adjust the way he tied it. He’d always manage to mess up the tie, causing the back to be longer than the front.

Truth be told, Nanami had been able to tie his tie ever since he was 15 years old, his old man taught him. He was a quick learner and could tie on in a matter of seconds if needed, especially with how many times he’d take it off during a fight.

But he couldn’t help but mess it up on purpose, because there was something so much more nicer about the way she would tie it. How her tongue peeked out of her lips as she focused on perfecting it, to make sure he looked presentable. How her eyebrows would knit together, much more gentle fingers compared to his sliding over the material.

His hands went up to her cheeks, thumbs caressing her skin as he guided her head to look up at him. Gods even after having known her for so long he still felt his chest warm up anytime she’d look at him with those doe eyes peering at him through her eyelashes.

“Call me if you need me, okay?”

She rolled her eyes, hands patting his chest before she nodded her head. Her heels lifted off the ground as she moved her weight to her toes, pushing herself a little higher so she could get closer to his face.

A smile adoring her features.

“I’ll be alright...”

To be gifted the ability to stop time was one many people dreamed off. Either to act on their perverted actions or wander around alone without a care in the world. To stop a tragedy from happening or to cause one. He hadn’t even given it much thought but in moments like these did he wish he could pause time for a moment. For the world around them to stop. No work, no responsibility or appointments to attend. Just them. He didn’t need too long, just enough time to completely lose himself in that very moment without the reality of the world pulling him back in.

He sighed into the kiss, fingers softly gripping at her shirt before she pulled away with a giggle.

“Go! You’ll be late, don’t leave those kids hanging.”

Said so gleefully as she pecked his cheek one more time before pushing him towards the door. It was her who grabbed his coat for him and pushed it into his arms.

“Remember, dinner reservation at 6.30. Meet you there?”

He smiled at her, standing in the doorway as he slipped his arms into the sleeves of his coat. Their anniversary was coming up and although both of them were busy on the very day itself, they decided to celebrate a little early. Nothing too grand, just a small dinner reservation at the local Italian. The one on the corner of the street, adored by flowers hanging on the side of the building.

“Meet you there.”

He said, planting a soft kiss on her forehead before stepping out the door. Before he left, he looked back at her, sending a quick wave her way.

“Love you.”

She smiled, leaning against the front door as she watched him leave. Dressed in nothing but her long pyjama pants, one of his sweaters and a thick blanket wrapped around her.

“Love you too.”

That day he wasn’t planning on doing overtime. Nanami was gonna come home on time, take a shower to wash off whatever blood or muck was on his body, use his pricey cologne he only used for special occasions, grab a nice outfit and on his way he’d go.

They’d eat dinner, she’d probably pick the pasta and he’d settle for the seafood risotto. They’d enjoy a bottle of wine over a conversation reminiscing shared memories of back in the day. About how fast the last decade had passed and fantasize about all the many years to come.

She’d be ‘too full’ for dessert so he’d order a large tiramisu knowing she’d be pricking her fork into the corners and stealing bites here and there.

By the end of the night she’d link her arm with his as they take a walk home, enjoying the evening’s quiet as the only sound echoing between the walls of the houses being the clicking of her heels. Their warm breath leaving their nose as a small cloud before vaporizing into the cold November air.

They’d take enjoy a bath together at home, not exchanging very many words but the very comfort of holding each other whilst enjoying the warm water. Stolen kisses, lingering touches and soft giggles.

Spending the night together in their own bed in their own home. Hands sliding over her skin as if she was a braille book and by now he had completely memorized ever bump, freckle and crease. Yet even after all these years he could never grow tired of this.

Every little sound that left her mouth sounded like a siren’s melody drawing him in even further. He would more than gladly drown if it was by the hands of her, pulling him under into the feeling of ecstasy that was being with her. A thought that went straight to his dick as he completely lost himself in her.

Nanami Kento didn’t ever fuck and he would never refer to it as such. He didn’t ever see it as an act of getting his dick wet for a good 3 minutes and pounding into her mercilessly like some sort of animal.

Nanami Kento made love. For the intimacy of it all, to him, was one of the rawest forms of love. For two souls to connect in the most pure way possible, to feel each other in ways that the gods had intended.

He could easily spend his days kneeled on the ground arms wrapped around her thighs and head buried between her legs. To hear her soft pleas, gasps and feel her hands pulling at his hair. He didn’t need tiramisu to feast if mother nature’s blessed dessert was right there and then. Sadly, an unrealistic standard for the modern world where they had a job to attend to and a society to be apart of.

They’d end in each other’s arms. He liked when she held his head against her chest, fingers softly dancing through his hair for there was no feeling that made him feel so secure and comfortable than that. To hold her in his arms and trace her bare back with his finger, chuckling when she’d shiver when he’d reach a sensitive spot. To fall asleep in each other’s arms felt like a god’s sent gift.

To wake up to her face in the morning, a sight that he would never grow tired of. Never, not for many years to come..

..perhaps , in a different world god would’ve allowed Nanami Kento to stay by her side a little longer.

A world where he did in fact not have to work over time and did go on that date.

One where he’d be able to show her the ring that had sat inside of his pocket for the last few months. To marry her and grow old with her. Maybe have a kid, he probably would’ve made a pretty decent father. He did always like kids. Yeah, he’d make a pretty good father.

In a different world he gave her the ring. In a different world she had given him the test she took that morning.

He would’ve liked to live a little longer than 28. 50 wasn’t that big of a reach or so he thought. The world was cruel. Death was inevitable and it was quite rare for a sorcerer to grow old anyway.

…

Perhaps in a different world she wouldn’t be sitting alone at that little Italian restaurant on the corner of the street with flower adoring the walls, waiting.