#yet i still smell someone cooking onion

[cressthebest]

dude, who is cooking onions at midnight in the dorms over here??? i can smell it through the fucking airvents. i don’t hate the cooked onion smell unless it’s at midnight as i’m trying to sleep i guess

[ssvnriseya]

IN TOO DEEP (D.D.)

summary - he wants more of you day by day as if he was being seduced by the forbidden fruit.

warnings - MDNI 18+ mentions of attempted rape, violence, language, dark!daryl, unprotected p in v (wrap it up), age gap ( reader is 18, daryl is 30. he has no weird feelings before she was 18 ), breeding kink, panty sniffing, intended lowercase (let me know if i missed anything)

request - keep a secret was amazing! i have a request for you, can you do a dark daryl fic set in prison era. where he keeps tabs on the reader, stalker stuff (steals her undies) and fucks her in prison showers. please include age gap (reader is 18, daryl is 30) and a breeding kink, please! - 🎀

note - okay, the characters deserve a happy ending at the prison, no one can change my mind!

masterlist

it was a hard year for you, you've lost too many people you cared about and gained more to care about.

your mother, lori, she died after giving birth to your baby sister. your little sister and brother were your angels.

they were the reason you still kept going, along with your dad, and the memories of your mom.

you had grown to care about the people of woodbury that now resided at your home, the prison.

whether it be the children, elders, teen, and adults. you absolutely love sasha, tyreese, and mika.

"hey, honey." carol smiled at you as she continued stirring the pot where all the people and your meals is being cooked.

"hey, carol. you didn't wake me up." you groaned at her as you walked to stand by her side.

"you were tired from the run yesterday, rick would kill me if i exhaust you too much." she smiled at you as she cut onions.

"i'll cut them." you smiled at her as you took the knife and chopping board.

"thank you. and i didn't wake you up because everything here is handled." she assured you.

it was early morning and no one was up yet, it gave you both the time to cook and chat freely.

"but, i woke up anyway." you teased her and nudged her as she stirred the pot and you chopped the onions.

"what are we having today?" you asked as you peered inside the bowl.

"just soup again with deer meat." she told you and you nodded, giggling.

"watery soup because we're lacking ingredients." you told her with a groan as you pour the onions in the soup.

"please, carol, remind me when i go on runs to pick up spices." you added.

"alright, young lady." she teased and you smiled, you both had been close ever since lori died.

she had been the mother figure, but not romantically to rick, she also stood as a mother to rick, if that was possible.

"who caught the deer? daryl again?" you asked as you frowned at the chopped meat.

"who else? he's our only hunter." she smiled at you, knowing that you utterly despised the man.

"okay, maybe i won't eat." you joked with a huff as you crossed your arms.

"then don'." someone told you from behind making you gasp in shock.

"daryl! don't sneak up on people like that!" you told him as you looked at him with disapproval.

"if ye' don't like m' deers, don't eat!" he sneered at you making you let out a small smile.

"okay, i won't." you told him and leaned in to carol, to gossip with her. daryl is in a fair distance.

you took over stirring and whispered something to her, "i'm fucking missing one again."

you groaned as you frowned, it was very hard to loose a pair of panties.

it was very hard to find one on runs and you will suddenly loose some?

"if one of the women are stealing them, it's very unhygienic." you shook your head.

"it would disappear only to appear two days or a day after, you'll get it back." she reassured you.

"what the fuck are they doing with my knickers?" you told aloud making daryl look at you.

you rolled your eyes at him and stared into the pot, it was boiling and the delicious smell of it was making you hungry.

your pride was high so you went right back into your cell block once the woodbury people came out into the courtyard.

it hadn't only been half an hour before daryl came knocking at your cell.

"ye' can eat, was jus' jokin'." he told you in a quiet voice, you smiled.

"okay!" you stood up from your bed and placed your book to the side.

you were never the first to apologize, if you knew you weren't in the biggest wrong.

"carol told you to apologize?" you smiled as you stood in front of him, he was a lot taller than you.

"nah." he responded and you nodded, smiling. you stepped out of the cell, brushing past him.

"i'll follow ye' back, 'm jus' gon' do somethin'." he told you with a nod.

you gave him a thumbs up before going down the stairs and out the cell block.

daryl waited for a few minutes before going into your cell, he went to your basket full of clothes.

he quickly placed the panty, that you were missing, back into the basket. he grabbed another one and stuffed it into his pocket.

he wasn't usually like this but you made him crazy, with you scent and the way you acted around him.

you despised him sometimes, yet you could tolerate him enough to flirt with him.

he hated how you made him feel, he wanted to stop what crazy shit he was even doing.

but the thing is, he can't, he's in too deep in the situation. he's fucking addicted to your natural smell.

he fucked your underwear every night, imagining that it was you. he absolutely loved those moments.

call him a creep and whatsoever but he's obsessed with you. so fucking obsessed.

he loved the smell and heat in the shower when he got in right after you finished bathing.

he loved your hair, the way it flows smoothly whenever you ran your fingers in them when frustrated.

don't get him started in your smile, he can fucking kill an entire herd if that means he gets to see you smile.

he loved your skin, your soft milky skin and how they easily turn red when being gripped to tight.

he wondered if he gripped your wrists to tight when he was fucking deep balls into you, would they leave a fucking bruise? he loved that idea, meaning everyone would see that someone fucked you that night.

he loved your body, every curve, every form of you from head to toe.

he went crazy on every teenagers from woodbury who even tried to go near you.

he did it in private, just to not have him scare you off. he almost killed for you, he would do anything just to protect you.

it was when you were on the road, right after the farm fell. you, maggie, glenn and daryl encountered a group of men when you were on the run for the group.

the men was obviously stuffed full, having the weapons and foods that you all were desperately trying to find.

they were obviously a whole lot bigger, not starved during the months that the whole apocalypse started.

glenn and daryl tried to talk to the men, in hopes of escaping the men.

they failed and two of them went to beat up glenn and daryl, making you pull out a gun.

it was a very ugly fight, glenn received a broken nose and multiple bruises in the face and stomach.

daryl was worse, he tried to punch back just to get to you, but to no avail it only made things worse.

that left two other men that was onto you and maggie, you fucking tried to fight him off, he was too big.

he tried to rape the both of you, and that made daryl see red, he was on full adrenaline that he fucking killed the four men single-handedly.

it ended with glenn almost passed out cold, you and maggie shaken up and lastly daryl who was still gritting his teeth in anger.

he fucking swore to himself not to let any other dirty men touch you for their own pleasure.

"daryl!" he was cut-off in his trance by a small voice calling out to him.

he stood up immediately from his crouched position and turned to face the door.

carl stood there with a smile on his face as he nodded at daryl.

"what are you doing here? anyways where is she?" carl asked, looking for you as he inspected the room-cell.

"out in the courtyard... ye' eat already?" daryl asked the little boy as he stepped out from your cell, closing the gate behind him.

"no, i was just going to call her so we could eat together." carl said in a small voice, he wanted to spend more time with you, he felt as if everything that's been happening has been pulling you away from him.

"let's go 'ere together." he put a hand on the little boy's shoulder, giving him a thin smile.

"she's probably eatin' with andrea and carol." he said referring to the older women you hung out with.

"yeah, i'll run so i can see sophia." carl told daryl as the little boy beamed.

"ya..." daryl nodded at carl, and the latter took it as a sign to ran out to the court yard.

when he arrived at the courtyard it was busy with people and their own conversations.

he looked for you and didn't see you, he was worried that maybe you were off with some boys.

he would definitely fucking beat the shit out of the boy who ever tried to take you from him.

his thoughts were proven wrong when a small bunch of people were by gate.

he immediately spotted your hair that made him crazy but not as much as you made him crazy.

he walked towards you with a frown, his frown falling and replaced with a small smile as he heard you laugh.

michonne was there, looking proud and almost eye-teary. you hugged her as you also sobbed with joy.

he was confused why but his smile also grew bigger once he saw what was inside the box that michonne brought back.

the head of the governor was sitting there, eyes in shock and lifeless.

they had spent months hunting for the governor and now they found him, they can finally breath in peace.

the governor looked dirty, his beard and moustache was grown, wildly. like he doesn't have a place to stay and clean himself up.

"we're free, daryl." you whispered to him and you also hugged him, cheeks stained in tears.

he pulled away and wiped your tears away, just like he's always wanted to do.

he looked behind michonne to find a small group of people. they looked relieved to see a sanctuary ahead of them.

"oh, this is the family i found with philip. they didn't know who he truly was, so i explained it all." michonne pointed to the three people standing at the corner.

you gave them a slight wave as you smiled at the little girl, "this is tara, lilly and her daughter, meghan." michonne added.

they smiled awkwardly and gave a little wave back, glancing at daryl, rick, michonne, carol and you.

"and this is eugene, he pretended to be a scientist who knows the cure to all but all is well, rosita, and abraham." michonne pointed to the other three standing at a fair distance from tara's family.

"hi!" you gave rosita, eugene and abraham a small smile and a wave.

you walked to stand beside your dad, wrapping your hand around his arms as he inspected the strangers.

"you sure they could be trusted?" rick looked at michonne, she nodded and glanced back at the six.

"alright." rick said with a smile at michonne, he trusted her and would listen to every thing she said.

"welcome to the group!" you greeted them cheerily, you went near meghan and took her small hands into yours.

"i'll take her to meet the kids." you told lilly and she nodded, she can't believe that there's a sanctuary for them to live in, for her daughter and sister to live in peacefully.

you walked with meghan, hand in hand as you took her to the field where the kids played.

"join them, okay? if anyone bullies you, tell me. i'll kick their ass." you smiled at the young girl.

you instantly warmed up to her innocent eyes and warm heart, listening to whatever she was told.

you turned around and jumped back, looking at daryl in shock as you held your hand to your chest to calm your breathing.

"you scared me, dixon!" you told him with a shark glare as you walked past him.

"ye' makin' threats to lil' kids now?" he joke half heartedly, you giggled.

"i like her, she's sweet." you told him with a small sigh as you walked side by side with him.

"wha' s'wrong?" he asked with furrowed eyebrows as he scanned your face.

"nothing, i just really wanted a baby before all this. they're cute and really sweet." you ranted as you puffed your cheeks.

"ye? baby?" he asked like he couldn't believe it, you pouted at him and rolled your eyes.

"sorry, was kiddin'." he told you with a small smile, you only frowned in response.

"yes... but it's hard, and i don't think i'm ready again as i was before. there's an apocalypse now and there's hardly anyone my age around here, and if there is... t—they just avoid me like plague!" you said with an unreadable emotion.

"who told ye' anything about boys yer' age?" he asked as he walked with you into the cell block.

"i don't get it..." you told him as you walked up the stairs and stopping right outside your cell.

you walked inside and he followed in suit, you smiled and gestured for him to sit on the bed.

"maybe ye' can try wit' someone younger or older." he said with a grunt.

"what are you suggesting, dixon?!" you teased him as you stopped pacing.

you wiggled your eyebrows at him when he started stuttering and turn a bit red.

"nothin' forget it." he told you and he stood up but you immediately were in front of him and held his shoulders to get him back to sitting.

"i was just teasing you, daryl. but, no kidding, i really should try with someone older?" you asked with pure innocence that daryl couldn't face.

"y—ya..." he stuttered and scratched the back of his neck as he looked at his lap.

"well, there's johnny, he's five years older." you told him as you sat beside him.

"nah... he's been wit' almost everyone 'ere." he told you as he shook his head.

"okay... i really need to take a bath, do you mind if we talk later?" you asked him as you stood up from the bed.

he shook his head and also stood up, "also got somethin' else t'do."

"okay, bye!" you waved at him and ushered him out of your cell.

you groaned and went to your clean basket, in search of clothes to wear in the sunny day.

you picked out your clothes and took a glance at the dirty pile.

your underwear, was already there. you picked it up carefully and examined it.

you dropped it with a groan, you had to get used to someone stealing your panties just to bring them back.

but it's creepy as fuck and totally unhygienic if they're wearing it or what ever.

you stood up from your crouched position, your towel and clothes in hand.

you walked out of your cell and closed it behind you, it was quiet inside as almost all of the people living in the cell block was outside.

it was a good time to shower, considering there's a population of a hundred in the prison.

it really was hard to shower with that many people, there were many showers but it looks like the time people wants to shower is whenever you wanted to.

you entered the room where a dozen of shower was, you and your original group shared this shower.

you didn't have to worry about peeping tom's or creepy men spying you.

you placed the towel on the hanging bar and your clothes on the table outside.

you stepped in, undressing yourself as you placed your dirty clothes on another rack.

the fucking cold water was refreshing, you really needed it, considering that it was a hot day in the prison.

you showered very quickly so your group can still have cold water, you felt bad because they've been spending all day in the sun ever since summer.

you pulled on your towel and wrapped it around your body, stepping out on the shower.

you went to the table and grabbed your clothes, going back inside the shower to change.

the clothes you wore were just a jeans short and a camisole, perfect wear for a sunny day.

besides you will be working on the fence today, so you still had to shower later.

work on the fence was exhausting, imagine that you will be standing outside for a few hours just killing walkers with the sun glaring down at you.

but it's worth it because by the end of the day there weren't walkers anymore by the fence.

and when you wake up the next morning there is walkers, and you kill them again.

that was your routine but sometimes you're on babysitting duty with beth, a girl just your age.

she was the sister of maggie, innocent just like you, just more shy and she's not as open-mouthed as you.

you stepped out of the shower again, dressed in clean clothes. you went to the rack that you found on a run a month ago and placed your towel there along with a few others.

an old lady was kind enough to stitch your name on the towel so it doesn't get mixed with the others.

it was a very sweet thing to do, she also was one of the elders you absolutely adore.

you went back to your cell and brushed your hair, it has grown longly, it wasn't the same mid-hair length when the apocalypse started.

instead it reached just above your butt, you smiled as you braided your hair and put little clips on it.

you shuffled on your make-shift drawer and looked for the sunscreen that thankfully michonne found on a run a week ago.

she found a full box of sunscreen and gave it to those who were on fence duty which was twenty people or so.

you don't get bored as much in fence duty when you had karen to gossip with.

she's always telling you how romantic tyreese is, how their dates always end with a sweet kiss.

it makes your heart flutter that your friend found love amidst all this.

you applied sunscreen on your exposed skin, you even went about thinking that you should just wear long-sleeves and pants.

karen would kill you, ranting about how you might faint again like you did once on fence duty.

it worried the hell out of everyone and you were on cooking and babysitting duty for a month after that.

you kind of don't want that to happen so you decided against it.

you placed the sunscreen back on your drawer and went out the cell, after slipping on your cowboy boots.

you walked past cell's when you heard grunts and moans in a particular cell you know too well.

you walked near it with cautious step, "daryl?" you asked him, you can't see anything because of the white sheet that covered the gate.

you opened the cell and found daryl flustered, "you okay, old man? are you having back pain?"

asking him was kind of you, considering you were starting to warm up to him.

"i can massage you if you want, i'll just skip fence duty." you offered to him as you walked by his bed.

your brows were furrowed in worry, he felt bad for making you worry when he was just jerking himself onto your underwear, smelling it like a creep.

"i do it all the time with dad, when he's having back problems." you explained as you sat beside him.

this was one of the reasons he fell for you, your kindness and no hesitation to help.

he didn't know why he started liking you when you all found the prison.

he hated himself at first, for falling for you who's almost half his age and you're most importantly, the daughter of a man he considered his best friend.

he felt sick but he can't do anything with it, his feelings for you grew deeper especially when the woodbury people arrived.

he didn't know what to tell rick. “hey man, i like your daughter.” was that what he's supposed to say?

"nah... 'm fine. ye' should go before yer' late f'fence duty." he told you.

you shrugged but nodded, "okay..." you st oppd up from his bed.

"if you feel sick, tell me." you smiled at him and went out of his cell, continuing your walk down the stairs.

it took a good minute before you were out of the cell block, you walked in the hallways before you managed to exit the prison.

"hi, karen..." you waved at the said woman and walked to approach her.

you also greeted tyreese who kissed his girlfriend good bye and waved back at you.

"that was a sweet kiss, i'm jealous." you teased her and then pouted, you wanted to experience loving someone.

beth have zack and she's your age, carl have sophia and they're younger than you! how was it fair?

you even asked rick if he would allow you to have a boyfriend over dinner the other night.

the rest of the group laughed while carol, michonne and andrea teased you.

you didn't notice how daryl's mood was down the whole night after that.

he wanted you to notice him, he tried to argue with you every chance he got just to have you notice him.

"you'll find them someday." karen knew what you were thinking and you gave her a small nod.

she handed you a sharp spear and you both walked to the fence where the other's are working now.

you worked for hours along side karen and by the time you were done, the sun was almost setting.

it made every sweat worth it because there's not a single walker in sight.

it was really a good setting, with the council and how they handled every thing.

you all were working to make the prison a home, the crops had grown and are ready to harvest every three weeks.

it was all because of the fertilizers you all try to find every run, and the pigs and chicken had more babies.

it was a good life and it would stay like that forever. you said goodbye to karen and placed the spear on the basket just outside the prison doors.

you went to your cell and picked out a set of sleepwear for a quick shower before dinner.

"hey, daryl... you going to shower too?" you asked when you met him down the stairs.

it's been a weird day, you've been seeing more of him ever since today.

you felt like you've seen him a lot more today that you ever did before the prison.

"mhm." was all he responded, you nodded and walked with him towards the bathroom.

"daryl, have you been talking to dad?" you asked him as you synced your footsteps with his.

"ya, why?" he asked as he glanced at your face, he quickly looked away.

"has he been doing better? maybe he wants to step-up again soon, the governor's gone now." you said lowly.

"he's yer' dad. why're ye' askin' me?" he groaned as he tried to not respond.

"we've all been busy, i don't even have time for them anymore." you said sadly, referring to your dad, carl, and judith.

"he's been better, improvin' since lori." he nodded, his southern accent thick.

"do you miss the people we've lost? like jacqui, mom, jim, and dale?" you asked him.

he shook his head, "they were never important t'me." he shrugged and you nodded.

"you must felt absolutely relieved when you found out merle's alive." you nudged him with your elbow.

you were happy for him that he's doing good with his brother, who was a jerk at first.

merle was starting to adjust to the prison and found a woman he love, he's in the council along with a few others.

"what about shane, ye' miss him?" daryl teased you, nodding to your words about merle.

"ew, no! he's a fucker." you groaned in disgust as you imagined the things he did to your family.

"did a number on ye' didn't he?" daryl smirked and you can feel your cheeks heat up just by his smirk.

"but i can't say that he shouldn't have done the things he did, 'cause jude wouldn't be here." you smiled sadly.

"ye' little ass-kicker is growin' fast." he shook his head with a smile.

"i heard that maggie is pregnant." you beamed at daryl, your eyes glinting with happiness at a new baby in the prison.

"ye', glenn told me earlier." daryl nodded, also happy for the couple since the farm.

you both stopped at the entrance of the bathroom, the sound of water droplets is the only thing that could be heard.

you looked at him as you bit your lip, analyzing his brows, his lashes, eye color, and his lips.

you gulped when he leaned in closer, you couldn't deny that sometimes there's that attraction for him deep down.

the attraction you kept hidden down in fear. he was a very closed off man, you were just scared of rejection.

how can you resist him? now that he's leaning in to place his lips onto yours.

you also can't deny that he's a very attractive man, with a shoulder that could make you swoon, and his arms that you wished to hold.

he has tattoos and you found them pretty and meaningful, he had a tattoo on his collar bone.

you didn't know what it meant but it's just a letter, a simple letter placed there.

it was an x.

you closed your eyes when you felt his lips touch yours gently, as if they were just tasting.

he tasted like cigarettes and booze. you can feel yourself getting drunk on his mouth.

you let out a small whimper when he squeezed your ass, he pulled away and took of his shirt.

he placed it on the laundry basket and kissed you again. you took a step back and he pulled the curtains out of the way to enter the bathroom.

"we shouldn't be doing this." you told him, pulling away as you shrugged of your own shirt.

"ya." he agreed and started attacking your neck, making you release small moans.

the clothes and towels you both had were left scattered on the table when you have thrown it.

he gently guided you, taking a step forward as you took a step back.

he guided you to the nearest room to shower, pressing your back against the wall.

he fumbled with your bra as you grabbed onto his hair, keeping your moans at bay.

you helped him slip it off, and he immediately attacked your breasts with kisses.

he turned on the shower and it made you smile at him as you got wet by the water.

you brushed your fingers through his hair, fixing it and moving it out of his face.

placing your hands on his neck, you leaned in and kissed him once again.

you can feel his erection on your stomach and that made you groan.

he held you by the waist and leaned down to meet your kisses as he was taller and bigger than you.

you slid off your panties slowly and you can feel the wetness on your thighs, not by the water but because of him.

he groaned as he rubbed your clit when his hands found it's way there.

you burried your face on his shoulder as you stopped yourself from moaning.

you heard the water stop running on the other stall and a few shuffle here and there.

and finally the moment you were waiting for, the shuffle of the curtains, indicating the person has left.

he lined the tip of his cock onto your entrance and you gripped his shoulders, you weren't sure if it would fit.

he pushed in with one deep thrust making you cry out in pain, you didn't expect him to be that rough.

he started thrusting in and out as you bit your lip you can taste the metallic taste in your tongue.

you moaned, as your hips met his desperately. all the pain was gone now and was replaced by bliss and pleasure.

"s'fuckin' tight, princess." he went deeper and faster with each thrust making you moan loudly.

you were scared to get caught but you couldn't stop the sinful moans that were leaving your mouth.

everyone was probably at dinner already.

you would be disgusted when someone told you that you'd be having sex with your dad's best friend a year ago.

it was so sinful, he was much older and also your dad's best friend, you want to stop but he felt so fucking good.

"daryl, mhm..." you moaned as he kept his thrusting, you can feel the tingling on your lower stomach.

a sense of sign that you were about to cum, it was quick but you can't help yourself.

he felt so good and it was too long ago that you've done this and felt pleasure, the only good thing was that this was better.

"i—i'm about to... c—cum." you moaned as you met his lips for a passionate kiss.

"cum 'round daddy's cock, baby." he groaned into your ear once you pulled away from the kiss.

he can feel your velvety walls clench around him, if he kept going on like this he would also cum.

"yer' so warm." he praised you making you whine, you were so turned on by the sound of your skin slapping together.

"i—I'm cumming." you informed him as you closed your eyes in pleasure.

stopping your hips from meeting his as you came. you moaned from the high feeling.

he kept thrusting into you with force, into your wet, tight and sensitive cunt.

"i'm gonna cum inside you." he looked into your eyes with a dark look.

you shook your head, "i—i'm not on birth control..." you whined as you shook from another orgasm.

"don't care." he shut you up by kissing you with much domination and force, he bit your lip and you pulled away.

"daryl... i—i'm not ready." you whimpered as you pushed on his shoulders.

he ignored you, "i'm gonna fill you up with my babies." he said once again, ignoring your total protests.

"you'd look so pretty carrying my babies." he kissed your jaw and sucked on your sweet spot.

you felt his cock twitch before he finished up inside you, you moaned.

"y-you came inside me!" you looked at him with anger as you unlatch yourself from him.

your legs giving out from intense orgasm, he held you to support you up.

"i love ye', we can have a happy family, you'll have a baby like you've always wanted." he assured you.

you shook your head as you wiped your tears, "w-what would dad say." you whisper to him as you pout.

"i'll worry about him, just be a good girl for me." he grabbed the shampoo as he put some on your hair, washing it for you.

"ye' feel good, so fuckin' good. better than yer' panties." he said with a smirk

you gasped and looked at him, there were a million questions running around your head.

"you're the one who's been stealing them?!" you asked in anger and embarrassment.

"hm, ye' smell so fuckin' good, baby." he praised you, making your cheeks hot again.

"that's embarrassing." you said in a small voice, looking away from him.

"i'll take care of ye' and in just a few months you'll have a baby bump." he kissed you once again.

you shivered and couldn't help but look at your stomach, caressing it.

you can feel his warm cum inside you, it was probably getting to work now.

it was too late for you to take pills, you felt like crying. you weren't ready for a baby, you were before, but you weren't sure now.

he promised to take care of you, he should. what if your dad gets angry if you tell him?

you can't bear the thought of your dad or carl ever being mad at you.

it would ruin you and you can't even think about the people at the prison, the people you love hating you because of your relationship with daryl.

"ye'll look good with m'babies, trust m'." daryl whispered to you, sucking on your neck.

what have you gotten yourself into?

[greeniegirl23]

Radio Babies 1#: How They Act When They Are Sick 🤕

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Welcome to the first (not really) chapter of the Radio Babies series!! And yes that's the name because I am both corny and lazy so hahaha.

For those of you who don't know, this is the official kick off chapter following the same mood as my "Alastor As A Father" scenarios. Despite it being called "Radio Babies" not every chapter I write about will be them actually being babies. Just making that clear...

And we have names for these kiddos! From now on the daughter is named Evelyn or Eve for short, while her brother is named Alphonse or Ali for short.

I hope you enjoy the chapters I'm planning to cook up and add to this series, but if you guys come up with something you want me to write about these two, I absolutely can! I enjoy being given prompts, so don't hesitate to comment or even send an ask requesting something.

Now that the intro is done, on with the chapter!

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It all started when Alphonse came home from school with a cough. You thought nothing of it and gave him some tea with honey to soothe him.

Three days later, Alphonse and Evelyn are blowing their noses until they turn red. Finally you checked their temperatures and found that sure enough, they both had fevers. Immediately you panicked. It was rare for someone to get sick in Hell because of the hot temperatures making it next to impossible for germs to exist, but after having a doctor check them out, he assured you it was just the flu and that they would be fine as long as you took care of them.

When you told Alastor about this, he literally went right back out the door and ran to the nearby apothecary. After an hour he returned home with comically large grocery bags, filled to the brim with things that looked funny and smelled weird. Wasting no time, Alastor asked for your assistance as he rolled up his sleeves and pulled out his Mother's old school tricks that were ingrained in his mind after years of her care.

“Here darling,” He said, handing you a bunch of spices. “Place those in the pot and let them boil for a while, when your finished please grab me a pair of socks from each of our patients. I'm going to cut these onions up in the meantime.”

“What do you need socks for?” You asked, completely unaware of his foreign methods from the south.

He smiled sweetly, yet you could still see a hint of mischief in his eyes. “You'll see shortly, however I'm very sure that our little fawns will absolutely despise it.”

Soon enough, everything was finished and Alastor was ready to knock this sickness out of the ballpark. Calling his children down stairs, Alastor got straight to work. Every remedy he could think of, he gave them.

Ice packs on their heads? Check. Onions in socks to draw out the fever? Check. Homemade chicken soup for nutrition? Check. Tea with honey to soothe the throat? Check. Lemon candy with fresh herbs? Yep! He even had them inhale steam from bowls of hot water with cloths on their heads to break up the mucus.

Just as he predicted, your children immediately started whining, groaning, and moaning. Complaining about everything except for the soup since Alastor’s cooking was enough to make Gordon Ramsay cry.

Evelyn, your sweet baby girl absolutely despised the feeling of the onions in her socks as she walked around the house when needed. Even going so far as to hiss at Alastor when it was time to change them out.

Her brother, Alphonse was no better. Your poor boy was ready to submerge himself in an ice bath in order to stop the perfused sweating that he was generating from being forced to inhale steam with a bunch of random plants he couldn't even name.

“Thou will pay for this Father..!” Eve growled, struggling against the tendrils that were restraining her while your husband struggled against your preteen. “Get these filthy filths OfF oF mE!!”

“Ah-ah! No lip Little Miss,” He replied, finally getting one of the socks over her hoove. “Your mother and I worked hard to make these remedies all in an effort to aid you and your brother, which means that you will wear tHe daMn sOcks ChiLd…”

“Language!” You scolded him. He snapped his head towards you with an irritated twitch in his eye. “Oh, but she gets to curse me out in Shakespearean?!”

“Mama!” Alphonse whined. “Please make him stop, we live in Hell but I feel like I'm actually burning alive!!”

You sighed. “I'm sorry Sweetie, but I trust your Dad enough to believe that he knows what he's doing. As long as you do the same, I'm sure you'll be better in no time.” A simultaneous groan left your children as they continue doing what their father demanded of them. Even though Alastor didnt walk away from Eve without a scratch or two.

For the next few days Alastor put them on a schedule that ran like clockwork. From food, to tea, to even taking medicine of his own creation. This man was playing no games with the infection that dared to sicken his little bambi’s.

They tried to seek you out for comfort, coming to you with enough complaints to fill a small notebook. Alastor put a stop to that real quick though, giving them a stern look when they tried to pull your heartstrings via puppy eyes and toddler-like crying. He hated being so cruel to them he really did, but he had to since their health was on the line. He remembered when he'd do the same with his mother only for her to send him right back to bed.

On day three, Al and Eve were much much better. Your husband's chest puffed up with pride as the little ones returned back to their normal ways and you forced both of them to thank their Dad for all his hard work.

However, that pride turned bittersweet as Alastor came down with the flu that same weekend. You felt bad for him as he laid in bed like a wet noodle, all stuffy and congested. Fussing like a baby about this interfering with his work.

He didn't have to worry long, because you reminded him that he had three personal nurses by his side and that as long as they were around, he'd be in good hands.

[tangerinesgirl]

Turfucken

(gif credit to Sony Pictures on tenor. can someone please make some HD GIFs from this movie, I suck at making them 😭)

**SPOILERS FOR THANKSGIVING (2023)**

AFAB!Reader x Sheriff Eric Newlon

Word count: 1.1k

Rating: explicit, 18+, no minors

Warnings: smut, feeding/food play/sitophilia, pregnancy, cream pie, daddy kink, some silly jokes, age gap but reader is legal

Summary: Sheriff Newlon is preparing for the best Thanksgiving yet, you have other plans. Set after the Black Friday Massacre but before the Thanksgiving the following year. Reader uses she/her pronouns.

You were greeted by the smell of sage and onion, cranberries and roasted potatoes before you even walked through the door. Eric liked to be well prepared for Thanksgiving every year, his favourite holiday. This year he wanted it to be the best yet, he had all sorts of new recipes to try, and you weren’t complaining.

As you walked through the door and unwrapped your scarf you heard him summoning you in the kitchen “Babe! Come here, you have got to try this!”

You throw your keys in the ceramic pot with a satisfying clink as you walk into the kitchen. Eric was practically dancing around the kitchen; thanksgiving themed apron and oven mitts on, removing a pot of cranberry sauce off the stove. He removed his mitts and slammed them down on the counter, a very small act but he made it look so hot. His hair disheveled from the heat of the kitchen, he shook his head to remove the stray hair that landed on his forehead.

He grabbed a spoon from the drawer and dipped it into the sauce, he blew on it to cool it down and beckoned for you to try it with a raise of an eyebrow and a look down at the spoon. You take the utensil and lick it clean with a pop. It was unlike any cranberry sauce you have eaten. Usually no one bats an eyelid at the sauce at Thanksgiving dinner, it always tastes the same. But not this one, it was sweet and sour with the perfect amount of umami.

“Holy shit what did you put in it, crack?”, you say, immediately going in for seconds.

“Ah ah no double dipping! And yes I put cocaine in the sauce, pros of my job”. You were pretty sure he was joking, but it was hard to tell the past year, ever since the Black Friday Massacre he was like a totally different person, and you fell for him, hard. You fooled around a lot, but never anything more, but you liked to test the water occasionally, maybe today is one of those days. It was difficult for him to get over Amanda, which was totally valid to you, she was your friend too and you were in this revenge plot together. You knew his plans this year and you both want it to be perfect.

You both were quite the town gossip, people kind of knew something was going on between the two of you, but your age gap of 32 years was extreme for a lot of people. You were perfectly within legal age though, and it was none of their business. You couldn’t help but admit it was kind of a turn on for you though, being a slut, and for the soon to be serial killer. 

The kitchen counters are covered with food, with foil on the top to keep warm, you think he’s been cooking all day while you were at work. You sit down on the kitchen island and admire the sight of him dashing around the kitchen, making sure everything is turned off.

He reaches into a dish of roast potatoes with his hands and puts some stuffing and sauce on the top and holds it out to you. You go in for a bite but he pulls back and smirks. You drag him towards you with his apron, your legs spread embracing him and passionately kiss him, his stubble tickling your face.

He still has the potato in his hand and stuffs it into your mouth between kisses. You put on a show and moan while you eat the best roast potato of your life. You grab his wrist and lick his fingers clean, looking him dead in the eye as you do so. He watches you, deciding his next move.

He walks to the counter and uncovers a whole roast turkey from behind him. You walk over too and watch him carve it, he gives you the first piece. After you eat it, you pull on his hair and whisper in his ear, “I want you to stuff me like that turkey, put a baby in me, or two, just call me a turducken… well, more like a turfucken really”. He laughs, but you see his erection, clearly turned on by feeding you and enjoying yourself.

He suddenly snaps and slams you into the kitchen island, empty pans flying across the room. He kisses you wildly, his hands roaming your body frantically. You remove his apron and his trousers as he removes your underwear from under your dress. He grabs your hands around your back, making you turn around so you’re bending over the island.

He slams inside you, impatient, like a man starved. You moan at the sudden intrusion, he is larger than average and always hurts so good as he reaches to your cervix. He pulls on your hair and you arch your back as he thrusts into you manically, the B word clearly a turn on for him. You cling onto the side of the island for dear life.

He stops and turns you around, kissing and nibbling on your neck. He lifts you up and walks you to the dining room table, and puts you down, facing him. He strokes your belly gently and says, “when I’m finished with you, I want you to stay put and lift your hips up. I can’t wait for you to grow so large and make everyone think you’re pregnant with quadruplets, be the talk of the town and make people on the street talk shit about us. And when I catch them I’ll put them in their place, as I’m the fucking town Sheriff ”, you are taken aback at his commands but god it was so hot, and whisper a “yes daddy”.

"Good girl", he starts pushing inside you again, the table shaking with the weight. He leans on the wall behind you to go even deeper inside you. You’re both close, you could have come at his words alone, so it didn’t take much to send you over the edge. He stops and you keep him inside you, wrapping your legs around his waist. He moans and strains as he unloads inside you, you can feel him releasing stream after stream, there’s a lot and it takes a while for him to stop, some of it leaks onto the table. He gives you some to try on his fingers that still taste of cranberry sauce. He stays inside you a little bit after he finishes, stroking your belly and looking into your eyes. You move a bit further down the table so you can lift your hips quicker as he pulls out of you. He watches you lift your body, nods, and leaves. He comes back later with a towel, some water, and a plate of trimmings to share.

If this is the sex before the John Carver plan, you can't wait for what’s to come next.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Editors note: I was going to include a pigs in blanket joke at the end but it turns out that's only a British thing and not a Thanksgiving food?? You learn something new every day.

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

First Time

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~9.2k

Summary: You meet another mobster. 

A/N: This is when Y/n’s tracker is placed! 

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, violence/torture, blood and mentions of drug use, death. 

“Kale, onions…garlic, check.”

You’re currently in the grocery store trying to get the last ingredients you need for dinner. You feel rushed despite having gotten off work early today, and you really want to get home to start cooking.

One of your favorite activities in the world is grocery shopping. Most of your friends hate it, and your wife doesn’t particularly enjoy it either. However, you love food and any time you get to eat it or prepare to eat it you are happy. This is why as you’re walking up and down the aisles with a smile as you hum under your breath. You were excited to cook this dish that someone at work had brought for lunch. You often find yourself lured around the office following great smells. Wanda joked once that you were like a dog when you picked up a scent. You wouldn’t stop until you found it and figured out what it was.

Once you grab the last things you need for tonight’s dinner you sigh in relief before heading toward check out. You stretch with a groan and lean against your cart as you wait in line. Looking outside, you see it’s gotten dark out and you frown slightly in disappointment. You weren’t a fan of driving at night because you didn’t have the best luck with wildlife and the police.

Last time you’d driven home in the dark you’d almost hit a deer as it darted across the street. The time before that you’d been stopped for speeding. To be fair, you’d been going almost 15 over, but you hated confrontation and also weren’t a fan of paying for speeding tickets.

These thoughts leave you as you arrive at the register and you greet the brunette before putting all your items on the belt. You allow your mind to wander to your wife at home and how you hope she’s walked and fed your dog. You know how he gets when it’s dark and he hasn’t had his dinner yet. Daylight saving’s time was always a struggle in the fall.

“Thank you, have a nice night.”

You smile and offer a ‘you too’ before heading out into the crowded parking lot. You parked too far away because you didn’t like parking near other cars, and you were currently regretting it. You sigh when you finally arrive to your car and you open the trunk to load up the groceries. You close the trunk and put up your cart before returning to the driver’s side. You’re thinking about calling Wanda when you feel something press against your back as you grab the door handle.

“Don’t scream or I’ll shoot you. Unlock the car.”

You tense when the gun’s pressed further into your back, and you do as he says with a frown. You’re not sure what’s happening, but you go with it to avoid getting shot in this parking lot. You open the doors and get in the car as your possible car jacker gets in the back seat. You still tense and wait on edge as you sit down and you look in the rear-view mirror with a frown. You clear your throat before speaking up as you shut your door and start the car slowly.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

You flinch as the brunette moves toward you suddenly and climbs into the front seat. You watch him get settled, his gun still in his hand pointed vaguely in your direction before he turns to you. You don’t recognize him, not that you thought you would, but you’re a little surprised to see that he’s not wearing a mask or doing anything to hide his identity. Either he doesn’t care or he knows it doesn’t matter. You’re not sure you like what either of those things imply.

“Drive, please, Dr. Maximoff.”

Well, that answered one question, but you couldn’t help but be miffed by this giant wrench in your plans for tonight. You knew better than to be too snippy, but you also didn’t want to show him how worried you were. This type of thing hadn’t happened to you before, and you weren’t quite sure of what to do. Wanda had told you once that if you were ever in a situation like this, you should tell them what they wanted to know and not fight them on anything. She wanted you to stay as safe as possible while she tried to find you.

The fact that she thinks you’re just out shopping and that you could be another hour or so doesn’t sit well with you at all. You back out of your parking spot slowly before you start to head out of the lot.

“Is there anywhere in particular you’d like to go?”

He doesn’t respond immediately and you just turn out onto the street and start to drive home out of habit. You’re sure he doesn’t pick up on this and he just shakes his head before muttering ‘just drive’ under his breath. You figure that since he knows your name, he doesn’t just want to steal your car. He’s targeting you for a reason, and unfortunately if you had to guess, it’s because of something your wife’s done. You go to say this before you realize it might be better to be blissfully ignorant.

“Did my wife do something to piss you off recently, or did you just want me to drive you around?”

You see him scowl out of the corner of your eye, and you see his hand twitch but he doesn’t do anything other than huff in annoyance. You’re not sure what you expected him to say to you, but you’re rendered speechless as you try to figure out a way out of this mess.

“Your wife’s going to become a widow unless she does me a favor.”

Wanda is sitting around trying to kill time while she waits for you to come home. It’s almost 7 and you’d texted her about an hour and a half ago to tell her you were shopping. She figured you’d be home by now, but she’d gone shopping with you enough to know that you are easily distracted. She has often had to bring your attention back to the grocery list when you’re side tracked by your appetite. For this reason, she’s going to give you another half hour before checking in.

She’s already fed the pets and walked Boone, so now she’s just lounging on the couch. She let Boone lie down at her feet as she turned on the television for some background noise. She puts on a cooking show that you like as she lays down and grabs her phone from the coffee table. She decides to at least get an ETA and she shoots you a quick text.

Are you on your way?

Wanda lies back down and reaches down to pet Boone when he rests his head on her legs. She pets him for a minute before she turns to the television. She’s not sure what this round is on but the weird ingredients involved only manage to keep her attention for a few minutes. She closes her eyes just intending to rest for a minute, but she accidentally falls asleep and doesn’t realize it until Boone jumps off the couch an hour later.

Wanda mumbles a curse under her breath as she sits up and reaches for her phone with a yawn. She sees it’s nearly 8 and that you haven’t responded to her text so she decides to call you. She stands up and walks toward the kitchen as she waits for you to answer. By the fourth ring she’s getting anxious, and when it finally goes to voicemail she hangs up and immediately calls back.

She’s opening the fridge by the time it goes to voicemail again and she’s trying to keep calm as she leaves you a short message.

“Hey Y/n, are you on your way home? I’m starting to worry. Call me, please.”

Wanda hangs up and sets her phone down on the counter with a frown. She hopes that you’re just driving and can’t answer the phone, and that you’ll walk through the door in just a few minutes. She opens the fridge again to grab a bottle of wine and goes to grab a glass with a sigh. She’s tired and her stomach starts to growl as she pours herself some absentmindedly.

She’s mid-sip when her phone goes off and she sets the glass down quickly to see if it’s you. She frowns at the unknown number and the fact that they’ve sent her a video. She opens it before she can think better of it, and she nearly drops her phone when she sees what it is.

Your plan to drive to the compound was quickly thwarted when your captor, he wouldn’t tell you his name, tells you to turn a different way. You considered not listening, but it only took him putting his gun to your head for you to oblige him. You weren’t in the mood for this, not that you think you’d ever be, and you’re thinking about ways to get out of this without hurting yourself too much. You aren’t driving too fast, and you could probably jump out of the car but that’s honestly the best you can come up with. It’s not ideal because then you’d be on the side of the road and he’d be in your car, probably able to get out and just drag you back in. You sigh in defeat as you start heading out of town and you’re tapping the steering wheel anxiously as you dare to speak up again.

You could tell he was getting a little annoyed, but if he really wanted something from Wanda, he wouldn’t hurt you too badly, right? You make this assumption without knowing if he’s truly smart enough to know this. For this reason, you’re not as rude as you want to be as you ask yet again for a hint.

“What favor do you need from, Wanda?”

Despite not knowing the crucial details of your wife’s work, you had a feeling that she could make a lot happen. You’re not sure what his demands are, but you felt like there was a very small chance that it was something that Wanda wouldn’t be able to make happen, at least that’s what you’re hoping.

When he just scowls at you, you feel your hope start to dwindle and you consider what’s going to happen to you. You’ve not yet had the privilege of being used as a pawn in your wife’s mob politics.

“I need her to pull out of a deal, and to give me some money.”

You don’t even bother asking about the first part. You’re too worried you’ll be told that Wanda’s going to murder someone or something horrific like that, so you keep your mouth shut. You consider the second part for a few seconds as you continue to drive down the dark and mostly deserted road. You don’t know how much money Wanda has overall. Sure, you have joint bank accounts, but Wanda also keeps some money separate for legal, or rather illegal reasons. She says it’s to keep you out of trouble, and since you have no reason to not trust her, you let her do what she needs to.

It's not until moments like this that you realize it might be helpful to know how much she has so when people demand an obscene amount, you don’t fear that she doesn’t have it.

“Turn into this lot and park next to that car.”

You do as you’re told, but you turn as slowly as possible to delay the inevitable. You’re not stupid, despite evidence to suggest the contrary, and you have a feeling you know what happens next. Maybe if you can keep him talking you won’t have to get into this next car.

“How much do you want?”

He nudges you with the gun in his hand to get you out of the car and you scowl in annoyance before practically jumping out to get away from him. You slam the door and just glare at him as he gets out and continues to point it at you as he gestures to the other car. It’s a little banged up and you wouldn’t be surprised if it doesn’t have a license plate. You don’t get a chance to look before he takes out keys and walks to the driver’s side.

“Don’t worry about that right now.”

You are about to ask him when you should worry about it, but instead as you turn around you see his arm is raised above your head. You don’t have time to curse in anticipation before he hits you across the face with the butt of the gun and sends you to the ground. You groan in pain as you roll onto your back, but you make no effort to get up or resist when he grabs your arm and practically throws you in the backseat.

“Sorry about that.”

Pietro Maximoff is in his bedroom struggling to find an outfit when he hears his sister’s voice. He stops rifling through his closet when he realizes she’s shouting, that she sounds worried, and he hurries to go meet her.

“Pietro! PIETRO!”

The frantic knocking comes when he’s only steps away from the door, and he’s quick to open it as his sister continues to panic.

“Pietro, I need your help! Y/n’s in trouble--.”

He opens the door to a frantic, flushed Wanda who clearly ran here to find him. She’s holding her phone and she practically shoves it at him with a shaky hand.

“What is it? What happened, Wanda?”

Petro’s mind is going a mile a minute as he considers all of the horrible possibilities. He looks down to his sister’s phone to see that it’s opened on a message, but he quickly sees the video and his eyes widen. He looks back up to his sister in confusion and she starts to explain as much as possible. She tells him how you went to the store after work, but that you’d taken longer than she expected so she texted you.

“She didn’t respond and then I fell asleep and then she didn’t answer her phone, then this came!”

Wanda watches as Pietro looks back to the video that starts to play as he opens it. He doesn’t even move from the doorway as he registers the sight of you sitting tied to a chair with two men standing by your side. Whoever is holding the camera moves closer to you so they’re only a few feet away, and Pietro can clearly see a large gash over your left eye.

“Okay doctor, remember what we practiced. Go ahead and tell your wife what we want from her.”

Both Maximoffs watch as you scowl and Wanda feels her heart start to race again as she prepares for what you do next. She’s watched the video already of course, but she still feels extreme anxiety watching you talk back and try to resist giving them what they want. She loves you for a lot of reasons, including how smart and resilient you are, but she hates seeing your attitude get you hurt.

“Fuck off.”

Your head is still aching from where he’d hit you earlier, and you can’t help but hiss as one of the minions by your side grabs your hair and yanks your head back. You glare at him ignoring the tears that sting your eyes as you grit your teeth to keep from cursing in pain. You try to ignore the camera that’s getting closer to your face as the ring leader speaks up again. He’s frowning as he zooms in on your face to get a better shot of your cut.

“Would you rather us hurt you instead? I can’t imagine she wants to see that.”

You can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt at his words, and you hate that you agree with him. Although you hate the idea of cooperating, you don’t want Wanda to have to see you any more hurt than you already are. Knowing your wife, she’ll already be near hysterical when she learns that you’ve been taken, and you’d be shocked if these three, and anyone else involved, get anything out of tonight, let alone live to tell about it.

Still, you glare harder at him as you growl under your breath at the obnoxious brunette. You can’t wait to see your wife kick his ass.

“God help you if you do.”

You’re not surprised when the grip on your hair tightens painfully and you feel something cold and sharp against your neck. You instinctively hold your breath and try not to move as the knife digs into your skin threateningly.

“That’s strike two. Now you’re a doctor, so you’re supposed to be smart, right? Do you want to tell me what happens when you get to three?”

Pietro waits with bated breath as you consider your options. Luckily you don’t take too much time to make your decision and you’re looking at the camera that’s backed up at this point, but its not far enough away for him to miss the red line that’s revealed as the knife is pulled away so you can speak freely.

“Wands, he wants you to back out of your deal with Booker…”

 You pause as you swallow the lump in your throat before mentioning the second, ridiculous demand that you were told.

“He also wants $14 million to make up for his losses when you first moved North.”

You cough as your throat suddenly becomes dry, and out of habit you try to move your arm to cover your mouth but you just yank against the ropes around your wrists. You glower at the brunette who’s now smiling as he presses a button on his phone before he starts to fill in the gaps.

“Since I’m a reasonable man, I’ll give you 24 hours to get the money together and talk to Booker. Call me once you have it and we’ll set up a meeting. Until then, I’ll send you updates on how we’re doing here every 6 hours.”

You feel panic flood your body at the fact that he’s only giving Wanda 24 hours. That doesn’t seem like enough time to get everything figured out. That said, you also realize that you’re going to be stuck here in this smelly room, and very uncomfortable chair for at least that long and you want to cry.

You just wanted to go home and cook your wife dinner.

“Say bye for now, Dr. Maximoff.”

The video ends with you shooting the camera a hopeful look, and Pietro just curses before he starts to formulate a plan.

“Let me talk to Bucky and Nat. We’ll track her phone and her car to see if we can get an idea of where they took her.”

Wanda’s nodding absentmindedly as she reconsiders the decision she’d made after first watching this. She was desperate to get you back, and she didn’t care what she had to do to make it happen. She had many concerns about dealing with a man like this, but her main one was what he planned to do with you while he waited. She’d only really interacted with him, Anderson was his name, once and she did not enjoy it at all. He was manipulative and distrusting of most things she’d said. Granted she had lied to him about some of her intentions, but he’d returned the favor when he’d tried to steal a client out from under her.

She doesn’t want you to be at risk for any longer than strictly necessary, and she’s tempted to talk to Booker now just to get this over with. However, she needs to be smart and take some time to figure out how to best approach this situation. She knew that Anderson was counting on her making the impulsive, knee-jerk decision to comply just so you’ll get back safely. She wants to do this, but she needs to consider how her actions can set a precedent. She’ll do whatever she can to keep this from happening again, but she knows that word spreads fast and anyone who hears that she’s willing to pay millions to get you back, will try their hand at getting rich.

Wanda watches as her brother leaves and tries to take a deep breath to calm her raging nerves. She thinks about you sitting with the three men who will undoubtedly be bored waiting for her to get her act together. She dares to consider what they might do to you before she grabs her phone. She texts one of her IT people to ask if they can trace the number that the video came from. She’s not optimistic, but she’d like to have all of her bases covered.

She hesitates to reach out to Booker because she’s not sure what to tell him yet. She checks the time and it’s only 8:40, not too late at all, but by the time she comes up with a plan she’s not sure how much she’ll get done tonight. She decides to leave her brother’s room and heads back to her own with a contemplative frown. She blocks out the sound of Boone howling as she opens the door and goes to work making a plan. She goes to the bedroom to find her computer and as she turns to head to the kitchen, she nearly runs Boone over. She curses loudly, but takes a second to placate the dog so he’s not too insufferable later. She scratches his ears and kisses his face with a sigh. She takes a second to just look at him and he whines before following her into the kitchen. She grabs her glass of wine before sitting at the counter with her computer. She starts with checking her bank account and she scowls at the idea of having to lose so much. She has plenty of money and knows that she doesn’t even have to worry, but the idea of forking this over to someone she hates makes her skin crawl.

“What the hell am I supposed to do?”

She hears Boone whine from where he’s sitting next to her and she sighs as she reaches out for him. She pets him for a few minutes as she just tries to figure out what she should do. She has 24 hours, and although she’s not going to take all of that time, she does need at least a few to arrange everything. Pietro is already calling her back and she prepares to face this extremely stressful situation. She just hopes that you’re fairing okay, and that you’re not giving Anderson too hard of a time.

You glare at the floor in front of you as you grow increasingly more bored with each passing minute. There’s not even a clock in the room, just two bored looking men who are probably daydreaming of being anywhere else. The third, Anderson, he’d finally told you his name, had left to do God knows what. He’d barely given the duo any instruction when he left, and you are trying not to become annoyed at your situation. You wonder how long you’d been followed tonight before Anderson made his move.

How long had he been planning on doing this?

Not for the first time, you consider the dangers associated with being married to Wanda. You know that the benefits far outweigh the drawbacks of your relationship, but at moments like this you can’t help but hate the fact that Wanda’s so well-known. You love your wife and know that she is trying to get out of the business, slowly but surely, but hopefully this incident will kick her ass into gear a little. You’re considering what the redhead could be doing right now when you notice one of the minions stand up and stretch with a sigh.

He doesn’t want to be here babysitting when he could be spending his night actually relaxing. He knows who you are and how important you are to Anderson’s plan, but you’re more annoying that he thought you would be. You were cute and he wanted to play with you a little, but he hadn’t been given permission. That said, if things changed as the hours went by, maybe he could do something to salvage tonight.

“Can I get some water? Is that allowed?”

The other body in the room looks to you with a scowl as he considers ways to shut you up. You’ve been silent up until now, it’s only been a couple of hours, but you’ve already proven to be mouthy with Anderson and he’d rather avoid having to listen to you bitch again.

He looks to Riggs who just shrugs at him and he sighs as he stands up. They’re keeping you at their headquarters because it was the most secure place they could think of. There are close to 20 people here at all times, so it’s better protected from anything your wife might try. He decides to go down to the kitchen to get himself some food and maybe get you some water.

“I’ll be back soon. Do you want anything?”

When he receives a head shake, he leaves the two of you alone for a bit. He’s glad to be out of that room and he wishes he could stay clear of it. You are also wishing to be out of this room, but you know that just saying so will irritate your captors even more. You don’t want to push them too much so you try your best to just relax and trust that your wife will get you out of this.

Wanda hasn’t been this stressed in a long time. She knew this was going to be a difficult ask, but getting Booker to agree to her proposition had been quite an endeavor. Now after almost 4 hours of negotiating, she and Booker had reached an agreement. It will cost her another couple million, but she’d guaranteed that their deal would resume as soon as her ‘unforeseen complication’ was no longer an issue. Wanda hadn’t given too many details, but she’d hinted at her reasoning for trying to renegotiate. She was infamous for sticking to her decisions, good or otherwise, so this had been an unexpected surprise.

She was counting down how many hours she had until she needed to give Anderson her decision. Even working with everyone, they didn’t have a great plan for breaking you out without a lot of potential for injury. Wanda knew she had the people for it, but she wasn’t sure she could or even should ask near three dozen people to help her break you out and kill all of Anderson’s people in the process.

“Hey, sestra. How did it go?”

Wanda groans in exhaustion before mentioning that the meeting had gone okay all things considered. She’d gotten what she wanted, cooperation, and it only cost her a lot of money. Not that she cared about that part of it. She was mostly just concerned about Booker keeping up his end of the deal, and making sure that everything worked out for you.

“It was…”

Wanda trails off as her phone dings and she glances at it to see who it is. She realizes that it’s been longer than she thought, when she sees an update from Anderson. She curses under her breath before moving to sit next to her brother so she can show him as well. She realizes this was a bad idea about 5 seconds in.

Your second babysitter had actually fallen asleep only a few minutes after the other left to probably not get you water. You would roll your eyes if you weren’t busy trying to free yourself. You glance down at your wrists before turning your attention back to your neglectful captor. You keep twisting your wrists to try and loosen the ropes around them with a grimace. It burns your skin, but as one starts to loosen a little you figure it’s worth it. You sigh in relief when one of them becomes loose enough for you to slip your hand out. You hurry to untie the other before you run out of time.

You have no idea how long they’ll be gone or asleep and you decide to try and get the fuck out of here. You hadn’t noticed that the door has been locked when the brunette left and you’re hoping it’s still not as you tip toe toward it. You are surprised when the door opens and even more so when there’s no one on the other side of it. You contemplate which way you should go, but you’re mostly focused on closing and locking the door behind you. You roll your eyes at this before making sure it’s locked behind you with a sigh.

You decide to go to the right because there’s a door that looks like it leads to a stairwell. You’re not sure where you are or what floor you might be on so you decide to go down in hopes of finding an exit. You’d underestimated how many people might be crawling around and you immediately see someone. You duck back behind the door and wait until it’s clear before leaving the stairwell as quietly as possible.

You’ve never claimed to be lucky about much in life. It wasn’t until you met Wanda that this changed at least for a little bit. That said, you wouldn’t be surprised if someone told you that you’d used up all of your luck when meeting your wife. Especially now, as you run head on into Anderson as you turn the corner. Apparently, he was still around and you both stare at each other in shock until you decide to try and run.

Again, your luck isn’t great and despite knocking him to the ground and running a good bit away, you run into more people almost immediately. You sigh in annoyance before you take off in a different direction and listen as Anderson yells at them.

“Stop her!”

Now that you had four people running after you, it occurs to you to look for a weapon to defend yourself with. You don’t like the odds when you run into a room that’s a sad-looking kitchen with nothing particularly useful in sight. You hear footsteps closing in on you and you panic and grab the closest thing to you.

This happens to be a chair and you swing it towards the first person that you see. It hits him square in the chest and he falls backwards into one of his friends. You still see Anderson and someone else not far behind and you head for the closest exit only to run into a locked door. You sigh in defeat before you turn around just in time for someone to grab you. You hold your breath, waiting for the blow, and they don’t disappoint as you’re thrown back against the door. You cringe and react instinctually as you grab his arms and try to push him off of you. Despite succeeding, you have two more coming at you immediately and you try to remember what Nat and Yelena always told you in training.

Hit them where it hurts most.

With this in mind, you kick out and aim for groin closest to you. Despite wanting to bask in the pained noise the man releases as he doubles over, you focus on the angry redhead in front of you. He’s throws out a fist and tries to punch you but you dodge it and punch him in the nose. It hurts a little and you think you may have broken something other than his nose as you turn your attention to the next obstacle.

You realize your escape attempt has failed when you see Anderson pointing his gun at you with a scowl.

“Strike three.”

You don’t struggle when you feel the two men you’d just beaten up grab you and try to lead you back to their boss despite their injuries. It doesn’t matter much anyway because you’re not going to do anything that will get you shot and follow somewhat obediently. You’re afraid you know where you’re headed next as you’re shoved back the way you came by the duo behind you.

“Come on, bitch. It’s time for another update anyway.”

Wanda feels her stomach drop and her eyes are already watering as she starts the most recent video sent to her. She realizes that something must have happened because you’ve been beaten and look near unconscious from where you’re sitting vaguely upright. Your lip and cheek are bruised and bleeding, and just from the way you’re sitting Wanda can tell you’re hurting elsewhere as well. Another glance and Wanda realizes that you’re now handcuffed as Anderson practically stomps over to you.

“Your wife has been very bad since we last spoke. She tried to escape and injured some of my men in the process.”

Wanda is too distressed by your appearance and obvious discomfort to feel the pride she usually would at the news that you’re not making things easy. You grimace slightly as Anderson shoves your shoulder to try and wake you up, and in that moment both Maximoffs decide that they are going to personally see to his demise.

“I let them return the favor, and I thought I’d let you see how things are going here. Are you any closer to making a decision now, Maximoff?”

You are unable to look to the camera when Anderson calls your name, so he grabs your chin and forces your head up. You groan and Wanda sees blood dripping from you lips only a second before you cough all over Anderson. He curses in annoyance as he’s covered in your bloody spit and he can’t stop himself from slapping you across the face.

“Fuck! Just for that, you now only have 12 hours to get everything in order. Until then, we’ll just be here having more fun.”

The video stops and Wanda doesn’t move for a long time. She’s struggling with the decision of what she should do first. She wants to find Anderson and eviscerate him, but she doesn’t know where he is. She has people looking, and so far, they’ve only found your car which was abandoned outside of town. They had found evidence of another car being parked nearby, and they concluded that Anderson must have had you drive to it before they ditched it to take you to where ever you were now. As soon as your car was brought back, Wanda made sure that it was thoroughly searched for any evidence despite not having much hope that there’d be any.

She was afraid to take too much more time looking for him. She’s not sure what else he’ll do to you in the meantime and she realizes that she’s going to have to give him what he wants. She only has time to unlock her phone again before Pietro’s speaking up. She jumps in surprise because she’d honestly forgotten that he was still there.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling him and setting up a meeting.”

Wanda’s about to press the call button when Pietro grabs the phone out of her hand. She scowls and tries to grab it back, but Pietro puts it in his pocket and steps out of reach.

“Give it back!”

He just shakes his head before he tries to appeal to his sister’s sense of reason. He sees a play here, but it isn’t without it’s risks and he knows Wanda’s just becoming more worried about you. He’s worried too, but he knows that you’re tough enough to make it another couple of hours. Not to mention, if Anderson wants anything from his sister, he’s going to keep you alive, which he knows won’t bring Wanda much comfort considering what he’s already done to you.

“No, Wanda. Just take a second and listen to me, okay? I might have an idea.”

You’re beyond regretting your decision to take a tour around the building after a couple of hours of sitting in this chair. It was already painful when you were just waiting for something to happen, but now that you’re dealing with multiple injuries its near unbearable. Your stomach aches from where you’d been kicked multiple times and there’s a dull pain in your ribs from where someone literally kicked you while you were down. You take a deep breath as you consider how much longer you’ll have to sit here. Hopefully your wife has worked out how to get you out of here in the least painful way possible. You supposed that ship has sailed, but maybe you can be spared any more pain.

Anderson had left an hour ago and you were just sitting with your new babysitters. The previous ones had clearly been deemed unfit and you distracted yourself from your pain by imagining what could have happened to them. You’re sure they won’t be easily forgiven, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you groan inwardly at the aches and the uncomfortable chair you’re in.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?”

You can’t help but scowl at the stupid question that you’re not even going to bother answering. You’ve been hurt before and luckily you have a high tolerance for pain, but this is pushing your limits. You’re stressed, hurt and you are worried about how much longer you’ll have to sit here and keep a brave front.

You studiously ignore his taunting look as you consider how Wanda’s decided to handle the negotiation required to get you out of here. You know that she hates giving into obnoxious and entitled men, but you know that if she’s pushed far enough, she’ll do just about anything. Not that you want someone to force her hand, but you would really like to get out of here.

“I don’t think this is going to work, Pietro.”

Wanda’s getting antsy as she waits for her brother to finish getting ready to meet Anderson and get you back. She’s starting to regret not negotiating sooner because it’s been nearly 15 hours and she knew that you were being hurt for your escape attempt. She hated that she’d left you for so long, but Pietro convinced her that this would work.

“It will, sestra. No one knows about our tracking devices; I’ll just go talk to him and then he’ll take me to where Y/n is.”

It sounded simple, and Wanda was sure that it could be, but she didn’t trust Anderson to keep his word. He had his money and Booker had agreed to his terms, but what if he got greedy?

Wanda realizes that the what if’s are endless and just considering them now will drive her crazy. She decides that the best course of action is to believe her brother and just go forward with the plan to get you back here safe and sound as soon as possible.

She only has a few minutes to wonder if he’ll be suspicious of her absence before her brother’s gone. She looks to her phone to watch as his tracking device leaves the compound as he does. It was something that they both had that no one knew about but their closest friends. The twins had them placed shortly after their parents had died. It was their way of trying to ensure that they could always find the other if needed, that they could keep an eye on each other if necessary.

They’d never really used them like this before, but Wanda was hoping that they would pay off.

It’s almost two hours after he sent the video that Anderson hears anything. He receives a call and a meeting is set up, but it’s not with the Maximoff he would have expected. After speaking with the older brother and planning a neutral location to bring Y/n to, he just had to get you ready to leave.

This was easier said than done because apparently since he’d left, you’d become more sedate. You were nearly passed out when he returned and you had to be dragged, practically carried to the car since you were too weak to walk on your own. You only look around occasionally, but you barely react as you’re put in the back seat of the car between two bodyguards. It’s not until they start the drive that one of them reaches out to make sure you have a pulse. After falling against one of them in exhaustion or pain, you hadn’t moved once.

Anderson steals glances at you and can’t help but wonder if he overdid it a little. He knew that the younger Maximoff would find him eventually. There was no way she wouldn’t but for now he just had to face Pietro and turn you over now that he had what he wanted. He’d given him instructions on how to get here and what to do. He had to drive to where Anderson had left a car for him before leaving his phone and driving to a remote location where he’d be waiting.

It was basically in the middle of the woods, so when he spotted headlights coming down the path, he realized that he was here.

He watches as the car screeches to a halt about ten feet from them, and Pietro gets out without turning off the car. He slams the door shut before walking up to the three men, immediately looking around for you.

“Where is she?”

It’s too dark for Pietro to tell where you are, but he has a feeling you’re still in the car. He’s not sure what to feel about this, but as one of the men move forward to search him, the other goes to the car.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Maximoff.”

Pietro just scoffs at this as he raises his arms and submits to a search. He has nothing on him, not even his phone and he waits until this is confirmed before he asks again.

“Where’s my sister-in-law?”

Anderson smiles before he looks to the brunette behind him who just nods and opens the back door to the car. Pietro waits for you to come walking out, but instead the man ducks into the car and nearly drags you out. He opens his mouth to protest, but he’s cut off by Anderson who shoots him a suspicious look.

“Why didn’t Mrs. Maximoff want to grace us with her presence? Did she not want to see her wife?”

Pietro scowls but his focus is entirely on you where you’re barely conscious beside your body guard. You look more hurt that he realized from the video and he’s trying not to panic as you’re more or less carried over to him.

“I’m the one who convinced her to stay behind. She’d lose her fucking mind over seeing her wife like this. You should be thanking me.”

This is certainly true. Pietro is sure his sister would try to kill Anderson on the spot for this, but luckily, she’s not here and his anger can only do so much damage.

“What the hell did you do to her?”

Pietro tries to step forward and grab you but Anderson holds his hand up with a frown. He watches as Pietro’s car is searched before he offers him a shrug.

“Nothing she didn’t deserve, but enough about her. I have one more thing I’d like from you.”

Pietro doesn’t accept this answer and he tries to grab you again to actually support you, but he’s stopped again by someone grabbing his shirt before a gun is pressed into his back.

“Fuck that, give her here!”

Pietro stops in his tracks as Anderson shoots him an angry look. He’s really only stopping because the man holding onto you tighten his grip and you wince despite barely being conscious. Despite wanting to help you out, he doesn’t want to see you hurt so he clenches his teeth before obediently standing still. He barely notices the gun that’s been pulled on him. He’s not worried about that.

“Patience, Mr. Maximoff. I think you’ll be interested to hear what I have to say.”

Pietro doubts this but he just watches with disgust as the brunette walks up to him. He’s close enough to spit in his face, but Pietro waits to see what he wants first as his gaze darts back to you occasionally.

Anderson sighs as he looks up to the dark sky with a smile. He’s impressed that you’ve actually made it this far without passing out, and he knows he needs to get on with this. What he gave you will kick in soon and you’ll be on the ground if no one bothers to hold you up.

“I would like to strike another deal with your sister.”

Natasha and Yelena curse as Wanda throws them around the car once again with a precarious turn. They keep their mouths shut though because they know how stressed Wanda is and criticizing her driving right now would not be a great idea. She’d waited for her brother to reach the car Anderson had left him before she left with her friends to come find you. She’d wanted the sisters along because she wasn’t sure how many people she’d be facing and she needed to make sure that the only ones hurt were Anderson and his minions.

She looks to her phone on the dash again to see that she’s closing in on Pietro’s location. He’s about two miles away and despite wanting to speed up, she slows down and turns off her lights so they’re able to sneak up on him. She turns her attention to her friends who’ve been silent the entire trip as they wait patiently to use the guns they’re holding tightly in their grips.

‘We’re almost there.”

Wanda smiles as she hears Yelena mutter ‘finally’ under her breath while she and Nat get situated with their helmets and night vision goggles. They’ll be essential given they can’t get too close and alert Anderson or anyone else of their presence.

She’s creeping down the road when she spots a flash of light through the trees that must be from one of the cars. Wanda stops and Nat and Yelena take this as their cue to investigate. They roll the windows down and look out into the woods, but they can’t see much.

“Can you get any closer?”

Wanda nods and starts to drive a bit down the road. According to her phones she’s only 150 yards from her brother. They should be able to see you soon. No one says anything as Wanda stops the car again, and a few seconds pass before Yelena’s cursing under her breath.

“I can see the fucker and his two friends.”

Nat’s jaw clenches as she spots you only seconds before Wanda asks. She’s not sure what to tell her, but from what she can see you’re not standing on your own and you look like you’ve been beaten.

“Do you see, Y/n?”

Natasha’s setting up her gun while Yelena creeps out and on top of the car. Wanda would argue normally, but this wasn’t a normal circumstance and she wanted her to do whatever necessary to get you back.

“Yeah, she’s there with Anderson and Pietro.”

“No way. Wanda won’t agree to that. She’s already given you $14 fucking million dollars. She’s not handing over anything else!”

Pietro watches you flinch at the sound of him yelling, but he’s actually glad to see you react to something. You’ve only been leaning against the man beside you for support and he was starting to formulate a plan to get you out of here quicker. He hadn’t banked on Anderson asking for his sister’s job.

He’s frowning as he looks to the older Maximoff curiously. His gaze shifts to you where you’re flirting with unconsciousness before he offers Pietro a smile. He reaches out to touch your shoulder and you’re not even alert enough to try and shake him off.

“Not even for the antidote?”

Pietro doesn’t have time to ask what he’s talking about before he pulls a syringe out of his pocket that has a clear liquid in it. He’s already moving forward to stop him, but he’d forgotten about the person behind him and he’s hit in the head with the butt of a gun.

“What the fuck is that?”

Wanda stiffens at Yelena’s question as she looks through her own goggles to see that her brother’s on the ground. She’s confused as to why, but she’s quickly distracted by the sight of Anderson moving toward you with something in his hand.

“Take the shot if you have it!”

Yelena’s shooting before Wanda even finishes her sentence and she and Nat both hit Anderson before moving to the other two. Pietro’s on the ground still when the shooting start, but he’s quick to head toward you once he realizes no one is standing by you anymore. He catches you just before your head hits the ground and he curses loudly as he sees the needle sticking out of your arm.

“Shit, shit. Wanda!”

He’s on his feet and picking you up as his sister comes tearing through the woods. She stops the car barely two feet from him and he’s hurrying to the back door. He doesn’t even notice Yelena jump off the roof of the car as the door’s opened and Nat’s quickly helping him get you in the car.

“Are you okay? You’re not hit, are you?”

Pietro shakes his head because other than having a nice knot on his head he’s fine. He’s more worried about you at the moment because you’re not moving and Pietro doesn’t’ stop long enough to see if you’re breathing.

He jumps in the car while Yelena gets up front and it’s then that he sees his sister’s just staring at you in shock. She hadn’t realized you were this bad off and she feels guilt slam into her and make her chest tight at the realization that she let this happen. She notices her brother’s holding a syringe that he must have taken, but she doesn’t get to ask before he’s speaking frantically.

“I think he stuck her with this, but I have no fucking clue how much or what it is. We need to get her to a hospital.”

Wanda doesn’t need to be told twice and she’s leaving the still running car and the three dead bodies behind as she races to the nearest hospital.

The trip to the hospital was a stressful one to say the least. Wanda had been driving way over the speed limit as Pietro tried to figure out where they should be going. They’d landed at the first place they found and after a couple of hours there they were able to transfer you to the compound.

Now you laid in the med bay unconscious with a tube down your throat. Apparently, you hadn’t been breathing well on your own and a few blood tests told them that you’d definitely gotten some of whatever Anderson had injected you with. Wanda waits impatiently by your side for you to wake up, and she can’t help but start crying again as everything sets in.

She should have gotten to you sooner. She should have given Anderson exactly what he wanted as soon as he’d asked so she could save you this pain. You had broken ribs and various bruises all over, and you aren’t able to breathe on your own. They’d given you the antidote about an hour ago and despite it helping a lot, you were still too weak to take over completely.

You’re on a ventilator and Wanda hates that she could have saved you from this by simply swallowing her pride.

She turns at the sound of a knock on the door to see her brother standing by with a concerned look. She sighs before standing up to greet him. She needs to stop staring at you like she has for the past hour because it’s not making anything better. You’re still asleep and might be for days, and there’s nothing she can do about it.

“Hey Piet.”

She pulls her brother into a hug before she sighs in exhaustion. She hasn’t slept in 20 hours and the adrenaline from finding you has definitely worn off. Still, she refuses to sleep because she wants to be here when you wake up.

“How’s she doing, Wands?”

The younger Maximoff shakes her head before she glances over her shoulder to see that you haven’t moved at all. Not that she expected you to.

“She’s the same. We’re just waiting for her to start breathing on her own.”

Pietro frowns at this as he looks to his sister-in-law who he really should have pushed his sister to rescue sooner. He shakes his guilt away though to focus on his sister because he knows that she’s certainly upset with how this all played out.

“We got her help fast. She’ll be okay in time.”

Wanda’s still frowning when her brother says this, but she just squeezes him tighter before pulling away and offering a smile.

“It was your doing, Piet. Thank you for being willing to help.”

Wanda trails off as she turns back to look at you because she can’t help herself. She sighs before moving to sit back down beside you because she can barely stand at this point. Her entire body aches and she needs to cry more, but her headache stops her from giving in.

“I just wish we could have found her sooner.”

Pietro doesn’t respond to this immediately. Instead, he considers what his sister says carefully and decides that there might be something that Wanda could do. If she’d known where you were immediately, maybe she could have launched an organized rescue that would have saved her time, money and heartache. She could have found you before you’d been hurt, and she could be sleeping beside you in her own bed now instead of sitting by your side in medical. He sighs as she recalls how he and Wanda had gotten their tracking devices planted. It had been fairly non-invasive and it only itched for a day or so after, but they’d come in handy tonight. Maybe this was something that they could do for you to.

“Maybe next time you can. What if we give Y/n a tracking device like ours?”

Wanda sits up in surprise as she turns to see her brother seems to be completely serious. She hadn’t thought about this, and her mind is already racing with the possibilities. She could have found you earlier, and God forbid this happened again, she’d be able to find you faster at that time too. She can’t believe she’s actually humoring the idea, but her brother has a point. She thinks about who could possibly help her with this but it doesn’t take her long to find her answer.

“Could I borrow your phone? I need to call Tony.”

Masterlist

[spilledbeans116]

Happy saiyan day everyone! To celebrate, I did a little self insert x Vegeta one-shot fic! I’m planning on doing one for Broly, Goku, and maybe even Raditz too! :)

Not sure if I’ll have the others done by tonight, but I wanted to share the Vegeta one with you all. The reader’s gender is not mentioned and they aren’t described so you can be you in all of them. Hope you enjoy!

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Saiyan Day • Vegeta x Reader • 838 Words

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“What the hell are you doing?” Vegeta grumbled, crossing his arms and coming to a stop in the doorway to lean against the doorframe. He was in dark blue sweatpants and a casual gray t-shirt, having just woken up from his nap. Well nap was used lightly as he had been out for close to 14 hours after a week long training session with Goku. You, on the other hand, were dressed nicely; your favorite semi-casual clothes causing the prince to raise an eyebrow. “Why are you dressed up?”

You were currently finishing setting your kitchen table with a white tablecloth, plates, napkins, and utensils. A small vase sat in the middle, with a red rose and a candle beside it, and you smiled as you set down two wine glasses. “It’s saiyan day. Since you ‘don’t remember’ your birthday, we have to celebrate something.”

You could see his nose crinkle up a bit as he processed your words, those expressive eyebrows of his as dramatic as always as they furrowed. “The hell do you mean it’s saiyan day? As if your species even knows mine exists.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” you shrugged, making your way back into the kitchen. “But the date sort of sounds like ‘saiyan’ if you shorten it, right?”

He rolled his eyes, “you’re grasping at straws.”

“I suppose,” you replied, beginning to stir at some mushrooms and onions on the stove. “But I’m doing it nonetheless.” You tapped the spoon against the pan three times before reducing the heat of the stovetop. You turned on the oven light, squatting down to check how the steaks and baked potatoes were finishing up. “Why are you up already anyway? I thought you’d sleep a little longer?”

He walked into the kitchen, the sound of his footsteps echoing slightly around the room. “I smelled something cooking and assumed someone broke in. When do you ever cook anything?” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke, “I’m surprised you haven’t burned the whole place down yet.”

“Interesting words coming from a man who couldn’t figure out the microwave,” you laughed, standing again and turning to face him.

“THAT WAS ONE TIME!” He snapped, turning away and pouting.

You giggled a bit and slid on some oven mitts before pulling the pan the steaks and potatoes were on out, shutting the oven off after and placing them on the stovetop carefully. “My point still stands, my prince.”

He blushed at that and took a moment to pause before speaking again. “Did you invite Kakarot as well? Broly?”

You placed your hands on your hips and raised an eyebrow. “I said we’re celebrating you, dummy. I know you don’t like large groups, and I can’t imagine you sharing a day with Goku of all people.”

He simply nodded.

You could feel the smile creep up onto your face as you poured the mushrooms and onions into a bowl. “I meannnn if you want them here I guesssss I could-“

“No,” he said quickly, clearing his throat. “No, this is good. You were right the first time.”

“Perfect!” You grinned, beginning to make him a plate. “I made you four steaks, but I have more in the fridge if you want me to heat them up; it’ll only take a minute.”

“Four is fine,” he said, coming up behind you and kissing your shoulder. You felt a shiver run down your spine as he pressed his forehead to the back of your neck and ran his hands over your hips. “I still don’t understand why you felt the need to do this.”

“Well, you do a lot for me; hell you do a lot for the whole planet,” you laughed softly. “You’ve saved my ass more times than I can count, you help out around the house, keep our friends safe… I wanted to try to return the favor, just a little bit.”

“Thank you.” He went quiet after that, the both of you standing in silence for a few minutes. When he spoke again it was barely a whisper, the deepness of his hushed tone sending a shiver down your spine. “I… love you.”

You could feel the warmth spread across your face as you turned to face him. “I love you too, Vegeta.” You kissed him quickly, causing him to freeze up once more as he was left in shock. “Now go change!” You grinned, turning him around and pushing him out of the kitchen. “I polished your chestplate and boots and everything for this! Enjoy it!”

“Y-you and your damned sneak attacks!” He stuttered, flustered to all hell. He sounded annoyed, but you knew otherwise. He loved you more than he’d ever be able to put into words, and you knew and understood that. You loved him and he loved you, and that’s all you needed to feel at peace. Random day of the year or not, he deserved to feel as special as he made you feel everyday simply by being with him.

[cibeeorsomeshit]

Stolitz Week 2024

A/N: Continuation from the day one prompt, but probably can be read as a standalone as well.

Day Two: Hurt/Comfort; Chocolate/Candy (ao3)

Why are you anxious? Maybe because you're drinking shitty coffee and smoking cigarettes with your sort-of crush at three a.m.

Blitzø had never been able to tolerate sweets. Fizz would often find pockets of time between practices and performances to visit the cotton candy machine and joke with whoever was in charge of it, hoping they would give him a sweet cloud. Barbie would pick up any candies dropped around the circus ground by visitors and hid them in her dress. Mom only ate sweet pastries for breakfast, and Blitzø remembered how she always ended her night with a hot cup of cinnamon and brown sugar milk, the heat and smell of it so vivid even now Blitzø reacted to the spice like someone cutting onions.

Give him hard liquor. Bitter coffee with only ice cubes to soften it. Once at a club a guy bought him a fruity cocktail thinking that would lead to his cock getting inside of Blitzø. Blitzø drank it, because booze was booze, but he definitely didn’t let the guy anywhere near his hole.

And yet here he was, three a.m., with Stolas at an all night joint that only served coffee and some sort of goop that could either be scramble eggs or a really unfortunate looking donut. Blitzø had texted him in a moment of feverish vulnerability and immediately wanted to delete the message, but Stolas, as usual, read his text right away.

The little speech bubble was so hypnotizing that Blitzø nearly went cross-eyed at how hard he was staring at it. He was expecting a polite refusal, or maybe some sort of confused inquiry of why he would join Blitzø when the last time they saw each other Blitzø broke his end of the deal by sleeping in Stolas’ bed without dicking him down first.

But Stolas only asked where to meet Blitzø. Blitzø chose a place out in the edge of Imp City where not even the homeless went because even they weren’t this sad with their lives. He had thought that would change Stolas’ mind, but again, Stolas simply replied he would be there in ten.

And there he was, not even ten minutes later, in all his royal glory (wearing a simple sweater and pants yet still somehow looked more put-together than Blitzø in his best suit ever was). The server working behind the counter went from dozing to full-alert real quick, stammering something that might be construed (a word he learned from Moxxie) as a formal greeting. Stolas nodded absentmindedly at him, his eyes already on Blitzø, feathers fluffing out in pleasure as he walked over and sat down.

Blitzø had to force a giant gulp of scalding coffee down his throat to mask — whatever was going on on his face.

“I thought you hated hot coffee,” Stolas asked. He was moving around in the seat to find a position that could fit his long limbs without jostling Blitzø under the table. Blitzø extended his leg and gently bumped his boot into Stolas. Stolas smiled, and wordlessly let his legs stretch comfortably under the table, tangling with Blitzø’s swinging legs.

“They didn’t have —” before Blitzø could finish his sentence, the server hastily presented a glass of ice cubes to him. Blitzø gave him a dirty look but didn’t say anything. He bet the guy would cook up something that wasn’t even in their kitchen if Stolas wanted.

Stolas just asked for coffee and whatever they were serving that night. When the food came Stolas poked at it gingerly with a straw and left it be.

Blitzø waited for the questions. When should they make up for the last full moon? Did Blitzø bring the book with him today, since last time Blitzø was so out of it he forgot? Did he not know how super-duper-fucking-trouper important that book was for his duties? Why did Blitzø leave before Stolas woke up when he hadn’t done that in so long?

The self-induced stress was enough to make Blitzø dig out his crumbled pack of cigarettes. Stolas wasn’t even talking, he was just humming some tune to himself, not chattering away for once. Maybe it was the night. Maybe it was the unusual invitation. Maybe Stolas just knew him better than Blitzø thought and could tell he wasn’t in the mood for talking.

Blitzø lit a cigarette and took a deep, long drag. He could feel Stolas looking at him, heavy and heady and with the faint waft burning parchment papers. He thought everyone felt it wherever Stolas turned his gaze onto them, but Moxxie called him crazy. Millie just smiled with all her teeth, and Loona said they both smelled gross when they looked at each other.

Stolas’ coffee hadn’t arrived yet, probably because the guy was making it with french press or some fancy shit instead of pouring days-old coffee from their rusty pot, so Blitzø offered his own coffee, which Stolas refused, and a cigarette, which Stolas gladly accepted. The table didn’t have an ashtray so they put it out on the scramble-egg-donut until it was a spiky scramble-egg-donut. All the while they didn’t say a word. Stolas looked completely at ease and Blitzø couldn’t help his tail that wrapped around Stolas’ legs under the table.

Finally Stolas’ coffee arrived. It smelled like actual coffee and not the brown water in Blitzø’s mug, though Stolas ruined it immediately by pouring five packs of sugar in it and stirring it daintily with a finger.

“How do you even drink that?” Those were the first words uttered in nearly twenty minutes, and his voice was rough from the smoking. Stolas took a sip, hooting softly and happily.

“I like it sweet,” Stolas said simply. “I would order a mocha but I doubt they have it.” And he laughed at Blitzø’s expression, pushing his mug toward Blitzø. “Have a try.”

“Fuck no.”

“Come on!”

“I rather drink piss.”

Stolas huffed and took his mug back. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Ha!” Blitzø croaked. “You’re calling me dramatic?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t, did I?”

Blitzø lit another cigarette. The fluorescent strip lights over them flickered every now and then, crackling like dying insects. The only other sounds were the exhale of smoke between them. The server had disappeared at some point. The streets outside were dark and silent, the twisting and tittering buildings so dense that the shine of the red sky was unable to peek through.

“Do you want the book back?” Blitzø finally asked, accompanied by a large puff of smoke.

Stolas blinked at him with all four eyes. “What makes you think so?”

“Because we didn’t — last time. I didn’t —” Blitzø retracted his tail and wrapped it around himself instead. “I broke the deal.”

“Oh, darling.” Stolas leaned forward and took away his cigarette, stubbing it out with a pinch. “Do you think I was upset? Do you think I’m upset?”

“I mean.” Blitzø couldn’t understand Stolas’ reaction. “Yes?”

“Seeing you on the full moon hasn’t been about the book in a long time.” Stolas traced the white scars on Blitzø’s hand, and clarified as an afterthought, “For me.”

“So you don’t want to continue this squid pro quote shit anymore?”

Stolas leaned his cheek in his palm and smiled adoringly at Blitzø. “I’m assuming you mean quid pro quo?”

“Whatever. That.”

“Hm, I think I would rather we switch to more of an omnia tibi situation.”

“I don’t know what the fuck that means.”

“It means I will give you everything you want.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Any normal being would have looked like shit under fluorescent lights. Blitzø was pretty sure his dark circles were on full blast in this light, but Stolas’ heart-shaped face glowed. “Blitzø,” Stolas started to say. The hand he was leaning on squished his face a bit, endearing in a mystifying way. “Why do you think I’m here right now? It certainly isn’t for the coffee.”

That was a confrontation he was avoiding since he texted Stolas earlier.

“I have a sneaking feeling you think I wouldn’t choose to be with you just to be with you.” Stolas finished his coffee. “You can have the book whenever you need with no strings attached, no something for something, because I like you.”

Blitzø’s heart was doing some freaky twitching he wasn’t used to. “You like me.”

Stolas almost seemed offended by Blitzø’s deadpan response. “Well, it’s not very hard to like you, is it? I like your company. I like your cute face. I like your humor. I like your taste in clothing — there’s just a lot to like! And whatever part of you that you seemed to view as intolerable matters very little to me compared to how much I like you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Blitzø stood up in his seat. “You have crap taste. You drink coffee with sugar.”

“I’ve been told I’m very smart.” Stolas leaned back in his seat. “And if you give it a try, you might like it as well.”

“And if I don’t?” Blitzø rested a knee on the table.

“Then I will simply have to accept that.” Stolas smiled like he was falling. And Blitzø was falling too. Forward. Downward. But mostly forward.

Stolas’ long limbs wrapped around Blitzø like it went on forever. Blitzø’s tail wrapped around them and they were so close. In this shitty all-nighter joint with squeaky chairs and bad coffee that should make anyone want to kill themselves for choosing to spend their night here, but Stolas was here and he caught Blitzø in his arms. Blitzø was here and he decided to fall forward.

It was pretty fucking scary. It was also pretty fucking sweet.

(Day One) ← →(Day Three)

[happyinjection]

♠️♥️High Card Short Story 2 “A Perfect Day for Vijay’s Curry” (1/2)♦️♣️

An appetizing scent arising from the other room filled the air as Finn clocked in at work. Inside, the enigmatic Vijay stood in an apron.

Original: https://twitter.com/highcard_pj/status/1531833299622014976?s=20&t=Tbp-YxbArYCzZFHe56-QRw

Author: https://twitter.com/poipheno

Artist: https://twitter.com/ebimoji3

Still buzzed from excess adrenaline from last night’s mission, I woke up too early in the morning, so I left for work at Old Maid branch office ahead of my regular schedule. Although there were no customers on holidays such as today, I was supposed to be doing some paperwork. Nevertheless, I planned on lazing around on the couch until opening hours, but once I stepped into the showroom, I found that the air was permeated with a savory scent which instantly sent my stomach growling.

“Oh, what’s this!?!? It smells amazing!”

At the back of the office, there existed a kitchen space. I took off and tossed my suit jacket on the couch before bursting through the door.

“Jii-chan! I haven’t had my breakfast—”

“I’m not Bernard-san, Finn.”

A man with a purplish, medium length hair stood in kitchen, wearing an apron. Since the collar of his white dress shirt had been deprived of a necktie and was let hanging loose, his collarbones clearly stood out.

“What are you doing?”

--Vijay Kumar Singh, another member of High Card. It seemed that he joined High Card on the recommendation of the president before I did.

“As you can see, I am cooking. We’re not expecting any clients today, so I’m preparing lunch for everyone.”

Accordingly, Vijay slowly stirred the pot using a ladle. I took a peek.

“Wow, it’s curry! Hey, hey, can I try a sip?”

“It has not finished boiling, so no, not yet.”

Right before my eyes, with his sleeves rolled up, Vijay moved to hold something up against my mouth. In his hand was a golden brown, crepe-like bread.

“Open up.”

“Back off, I’m not a kid, y’know.”

“It’s your breakfast. Please have a taste.”

His deep black eyes gazed at me. This man was someone whose emotions were hardly apparent on his face.

I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and his silence put me under a strange pressure. Reluctantly, I took a bite out of the bread and popped it in.

“...Tasty!”

“That’s good to hear.”

I thought he might be smiling, but his expression was still difficult to read.

“What’s this? It’s sticky and delicious!”

“It’s a kind of roti called chapati. In where I originally came from, it’s a common dish.”

“I don’t really get what you’re saying, but it tastes good anyway. May I ask for another bite... or better yet, another piece?”

“Sure, but you won’t have anything left for lunch.”

“Isn’t it possible to cut out a part of Leo’s share? He’s just a kid, afterall.”

“That won’t do. Growing children should eat a lot. This was supposed to be my breakfast, but, here you go. I’ll just bake some more.”

“Say, is there anything I can eat it with?”

“There’s some chicken, but... I’m saving them for lunch. Please make do with these in the meantime. It’s the garnish.”

A small plate of chopped tomatoes and onions was brought out.

“Blech, don’t want them. I hate veggies.”

As soon as I spoke, Vijay glared at me with large, round eyes. “Y-you don’t like veggies? Are you out of your mind?”

His entire body shook to the point it interfered with his stirring, which caused the ladle to clash against the pot, resulting in a loud noise. He looked as though he was furious.

“I-I mean, I just can’t bring myself to enjoy them.”

“All kinds of of veggies?!?! Not even a single one?!”

“Well, I’ve never really thought about it that far, but, you’ve got the general idea...”

“For goodness’ sake...... Chris is supposed to be your mentor, right? Then has he taught you anything at all...?”

“My eating habits have nothing to do with work! Besides, it is Chris himself, who devours a lot of sweets, you should be more concerned about!”

“Since it’s closely related to his powers, there’s nothing we can do about his diet. But you are an entirely different case. You simply choose to not eat them.”

It got me wondering. “Speaking of powers, you have the ability to talk to plants, don’t you?”

Come to think of it, have Vijay and I spoken to each other in private before, just the two of us? He wasn’t a man of many words. He was in charge of the systems at the branch office, but he also helped out with administrative and clerical work whenever Bernard was short-staffed. In short, he was our go-to guy at the office. At the same time, he appeared to be doing some sort of research at uni. He was an intellectual, so he was completely out of my league.

“As a matter of fact, I can’t establish a clear conversation with them. I can only communicate a little.”

I didn’t actually understand what he meant, but I couldn’t be bothered with technicalities. Though, it was all coming together.

“I see! So that’s why you sometimes mumble at your desk! With the plants on your desk, you’re—”

“Justin, isn’t it.”

“Huh? Who’s that?”

“That’s him. He was the one on my desk today. You also have a name, don’t you, Finn?”

“…..Do the plants on your desk change regularly?”

“By the same logic, don’t you also notice when people enter and leave the office?”

For the longest time, I’ve always thought that we were a little out of sync, but when it came to one-on-one conversation such as this, the discrepancy between us couldn’t be any more obvious.

“But, our powers are only activated during ‘play’.” Meanwhile, you talk to… Justin and the others all the time. So is that also a part of your powers?”

“Alright, here we go. This should match your taste.” He moved the scrambled eggs that he had been frying from the pan to a plate in one fluid motion.

“We’re not done talking here, y’know.”

“Please eat it while it’s hot. As per my homeland’s cooking style, I used a lot of butter. Don’t you want to have a try?”

“No yeah, I do. My mouth waters from the sight alone.”

“Here’s some tomatoes as a side dish.”

“None of that!”

Suddenly, I heard noises coming from the showroom.

“Someone else has clocked in, it seems. Finish your food quickly and then get back to work. Have you sorted out that insurance policy that Wendy asked?”

“Dang, I haven’t—! It was nice talking to you~”

Snatching my plate of makeshift breakfast, I stumbled away in haste.

♠️♥️♦️♣️

TL notes: I’m in no way a professional translator so if you find any mistakes, please do not hesitate to inform me right away. I love the High Card gang and I found it very unfortunate that while it is meant to be a multimedia project, I can’t seem to find the translated versions of any materials (beside the anime) anywhere (if this is against copyright, I will take it down). Hopefully this small TL would help international viewers gain better understanding of HC universe and characters. The author of these SS himself said that he hoped fans would have their “so that’s what it is!” moments when they watch the anime after reading his short stories. So with that in mind, let’s enjoy High Card together~

[uptochxnce]

[ LEE DOHYUN, CIS MAN, HE/HIM] — i’m pretty sure that was just CHANCE CHOI of  THE RICH AND FAMOUS that just passed by. the TWENTY-SEVEN year old ACTOR has been a resident here in the upper east side for FIVE YEARS.  they’re known for being WITTY & DEBONAIR, but i overheard someone mention they’re also SLY & IMPULSIVE…considering they’re an SCORPIO i think there might be some truth to it. but maybe that’s just because they’re always worried someone might find out about REDACTED.  something about them has always reminded me of THE SMELL OF THE OCEAN, SUNLIGHT FLITERING THROUGH YOUR FINGERS, ICED COFFEE ON A HOT DAY  but maybe that’s just because they like to PAINT & DECORATE in their free time.

QUICK STATS

name: chance choi

nickname(s): n/a

gender: cis man

pronouns: he/him

age: 27 

dob: nov 15th 1996

pob: los angeles california

orientation: bi-sexual (closeted) 

social group: the rich and famous 

APPEARANCE

height: 5'10"

build: lean/muscular 

ethnicity: korean

eye colour: brown

hair colour: black

notable features: cute smile 

style: casual (but in designer clothes)

tattoos: n/a

piercings: n/a 

PERSONALITY

positive traits: witty, debonair, kind, charming, 

negative traits: sly, impulsive, selfish, needy, reckless 

likes: late night drives, italian food, hot baths, swimming, painting, decorating

dislikes: heatwaves, the smell of cooked onions, spicy food, ketchup 

CAREER & EDUCATION

current occupation: actor 

past occupation(s): n/a 

degree(s): n/a 

BIOGRAPHY

tw: sex, drugs  as the son of a famous hollywood director, no one was surprised when chance appeared in his first movie when he was barely three years old; doe-eyed and confused, his father feeding him every line with a proud smile on his face. yet somehow he thrived, many claiming it was because his mother had been a popular actress back in south korea so it must have run in his blood. by the time he turned 10 he’d been in more movies than he could possibly remember, he was hollywood’s favourite child star, a nepo baby beloved by the world for his adorable appearance and natural skill. it was only by luck (and perhaps good genetics) that he aged into an attractive young man, growing out of his boyish charms and showing the world he was destined to be a successful leading man. yet a chance grew up he lived a rather particular and unusual life. he never attended a real school, his classroom had been in a trailer on set alongside other child actors. the only prom he ever attended was in a movie, and he’d grown up put on a pedestal, his privacy non-existence, invaded by masses of fans and paparazzi trying to get the latest scoop on hollywood’s Golden Boy. but chance kept his good reputation despite that, he was known for being kind albeit a bit oblivious at times. yet as he began to get older, this pressure of perfection slowly began to weigh him down, leaving him confused as to if he really knew who he was, or if he’d just been conditioned into the person he was raised to be. this may have been how he slowly began to resent his perfect image, starting to allow his impulses to take control. pictures of him partying at clubs began to flood the tabloids, his arms wrapped around a new pretty girl every few months. it was like he wanted to show the world he wasn’t the golden child they wanted him to be, he was adult, he was messy, he was human just like them, he could make mistakes. and mistakes he certainly did make. being rich and famous meant the world was all but on a silver platter for him, his ‘friends’ encouraged his bad habits, from sex to drugs, he let himself go wild, ultimately ending up in more than one scandal, getting labelled as an ex-child star now acting out to seem mature. it took damage control from his PR team to clean up his reputation, though behind closed doors chance was still the same mess he’d grown to be. yet to the rest of the world, he was back on screen, starring in blockbusters and charming fans with his sweet smile.

HEADCANONS 

he is bisexual, with no lean in either direction. however, he’s never publicly been in a relationship with a man because he’s worried about his reputation as an actor.

as a child chance got his start acting because his father used to put him in his films, which eventually lead to him getting speaking roles

he’s acted in most genres as a teen/young adult he’s did a lot of YA franchises. but now as an adult he favours acting in action films and dramas. 

he has many accolades and has been nominated for several oscars, but only won once. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS

childhood friend: someone else who may have grown up in entertainment industry, they could have acted in the same film or just known each other by chance.

best friend: someone in around the same age as him that he trusts with the wold, and may be one of the few people who know his secret

celebrity status: another celebrity he may have worked with whether in a film, or as brand ambassadors for something 

old sweethearts: they have previous had a very public relationship, and while they dated they were beloved by the press. but may have broken up due to schedule or personal differences.

publicity stunt: someone he had a PR relationship with, which may have been beneficial to them both (brought them publicity for dating a celebrity, and may have been a cover for him from a recent scandal) 

[el-michoacano]

cilantro

Another deleted scene fic! This one takes place between Coushatta and Wiedersehen! Tagging @dolly-macabre, @lokisinsurrection, @seraphtrevs, @lady-writes-flanagan, @jugem13, @sword-day, @slainmanca and @cooked-out-euro-trash 🖤

READ ON AO3

.

"You got a shovel I can borrow, Ignacio?"

They were on the road when Lalo asked, and Nacho gripped the steering wheel just a little tighter. All he knew about this man was his name. Salamanca. That was enough to set him on edge. They'd known each other less half an hour, and they were driving uptown now, and Nacho had no idea what to think. All he could say was, "In the trunk." Were they going to bury a body already?

Lalo's voice pulled him from his thoughts, saying, "Turn left here."

Nacho did as he was told. Just play the dutiful henchman, he told himself. His knuckles were white. You got this. Unsure he wanted to know the answer, he asked, "Where're we going, anyway?"

"The nursery."

That wasn't what he expected. Unable to stop himself, Nacho asked, "You got a kid up here?"

Lalo gave him a brief wide-eyed look before he laughed, a warmer sound that Nacho had expected. "No, man!" There was a twinkle of amusement light up his dark, dark eyes. They were softer than his uncle's eyes, and Nacho did his best not to fixate on that. "A plant nursery!"

That was what the shovel was for, then. Nacho tried and failed to fight back a sigh of relief. "For herbs," he realized aloud. "Because you cook."

Still smiling, Lalo aimed a finger gun at him. "Exactly! You couldn't pay me to cook with the dried stuff. Tastes terrible." He wrinkled his nose as he said it. "Gonna get some pepper plants, too, maybe onions." He turned his gaze out the window again, drumming his fingers against its edge in time with the song playing softly over the radio. He'd turned the thing on the moment Nacho had turned the engine over. "Might be here for a while."

Nacho's stomach sank. He asked, "Are you taking over for Don Hector?" He normally wouldn't have bothered with the title, but he didn't know Lalo well enough to know if that was safe or not.

"Could be," Lalo said. He didn't sound bothered by the idea, either. How could he be so immediately comfortable so far from home? "Might be here until Tuco gets out, unless I can find someone else to run everything until then."

Nacho's stomach may well have been in his shoes when they finally pulled into the parking lot of the plant nursery. It was just a massive greenhouse, and it smelled of fresh dirt even before they stepped through the doors. It was muggy inside, occupied by a jungle of plants and huge stacks of bagged soils and pots and watering cans.

"Gonna need your help moving shit," Lalo was saying as he strode over to the selection of herbs that sat against the back wall of the greenhouse. "There's a lot we gotta grab." When Nacho moved to follow him, though, he added, "Three bags of soil, loamy, organic."

It took a moment for Nacho to process the order, but they parted ways there. He wasn't sure what loamy meant, but he found a few bags of soil marked with the label among the piles of their like, hefting them up and carrying them over to where Lalo was kneeling to inspect beds of herbs.

He glanced up from the basil plant he was studying, grinning and saying, "Look at you!" He rose from his knees, dusting off his trousers. "With arms like that, we'll make a gardener of you yet, eh, Nachito?" Lalo reached for one of the plants, plucking a single leaf and crushing it between his fingers. He held it out to Nacho, asking, "What do you think?"

Though he hesitated, Nacho clutched the bags of soil to his chest, leaning in to smell the crushed leaf. He said, "It's cilantro."

Lalo lifted his eyebrows. "But what does it smell like?"

Nacho wasn't sure how to answer. He shrugged. "Fresh," was the best he could do. "Kinda citrusy."

Tossing the leaf aside, Lalo said, "Smells like soap to me."

"You got that gene?" Why did that make Nacho feel superior? He only smiled when Lalo turned away from him again to check out a sad-looking oregano plant.

"Whole family does!" The reply came on a laugh. "A few of us're actually mildly allergic to it, but don't tell 'em I told you."

Nacho wondered, briefly, if you could kill a man with cilantro.

[mally0]

Out of the Frying Pan

Introduction | Chapter 1

TW: Blood, guts, and cannibalism. Bugs in the mouth stuff. Vomit. Allusions to SA. Murder.

This is the beginning of a novel I’ve been cooking up. There is, of course, a main plot that hasn’t been revealed yet. I promise.

Set Burner to High Heat

Perhaps my time is short, perhaps I have all the time in the world. I am Gormica, a golem of flesh, iron, and fire. I return to this world for my one constant purpose.

Someone has to die.

There’s a meddler out there, threatening to bend reality with their twisted magics. It will not stand. 

As for a status report, I don’t know who I’m hunting. I remember bits of my previous lives, but this land is strange and changed. I can smell the spirit of the Chimera alive in Castille, the Iron City. I’m sure the target is here. 

When I first woke, I was in the roots of a burning tree, half buried in the muck of a still pond. I tore myself from the ground, the old tree tumbled over with a splash. A dark stain crept into the pool’s green waters around the tree’s smoldering carcass. I rushed to the water’s edge and hacked up what must have been a barrel full of black mud and crawling, nasty vermin. I hate centipedes. There were some in my mouth. 

My reflection in the pool settled to what it had always been. My black iron helm still had the vague approximation of a face burnt through by my violet, flaming eyes. I moved my neck, creaking and shrieking against untold years of rust. The plates desperately needed a drink. I looked around for my weapon. By magical contract, no part of me can be separated from the whole.

Across the pool, I spotted the shape of a skeleton engulfed in purple fire. I was still groggy, but it didn’t take me long to crunch the numbers. The flames whirling around its shape surged upward, igniting more of the weeping trees leaning over the pond. Mounds of flaming bagworms fell. Fish thrashed and floundered in the pond below. The greenery screamed and split against the inferno. It was a picture of the end times, all encased in this little clearing in the swamp. 

I struggled to my feet, and the skeleton ran off. The flames lowered to a flicker. I hauled my clattering legs around the pond and something in my mail must have caught.

I fell face first into the ashy mud. By the time I got my bearings back, a storm conveniently came along to put out the flames.

To my understanding, I have been held together absolutely by magical contract. That’s how it’s always been. I live to hunt, and when I find my quarry, I die. I have always had my trusty weapon at my side.

I lost track of the skeleton. I haven’t been able to find my ax. It disturbs me. 

I’d like to be up front with you, reader. I was initially formed in the leagues of a necromancer’s army. I’m not that monster anymore. I was raised as a weapon of war, but I’m determined to do good with the fleeting glances of life I’m gifted with.

I’m afraid that skeleton is a part of me.

I doubt that it’s my target. That would be silly. I doubt that it’s a problem that’s going to fix itself, however. I also have a feeling that my target and that dreg that crawled out of me are connected. 

I set off in search of civilization. I’m sure that’s not the last I’ve seen of the flaming skeleton, anyway. I have dubbed this demon ‘Frailty.�� This name is my hex upon it. When my blade meets its skull, it will find it a most fitting title.

______________________________________________________________

This is a recipe for a mess.

A Dozen Eggs, Scrambled

Diced Onions and Hash Browns in Olive Oil

Slap Ya’ Mama

Salt and Pepper

Mix it All Together

Seared Until the Ends are Black

Top with Cheese

Let it Melt

Serve and Enjoy

Out of the Frying Pan

______________________________________________________________

Well, can I tell you a secret? I know you're not gonna believe this But something happened to me last night And I may never be the same again                                                  

–“NBTSA,” Joyce Manor  

A Dozen Eggs, Scrambled

I woke up one day to find that the old song was true. There were worms in me. I could feel them burrowing and squirming in and around my nose, in my head. I doubt they were playing pinochle. 

I can only hope you’ve never felt something so terrible. If you’ve ever felt something unwanted digging around in your head, then you know what kind of thrashing I did that morning. 

The wood was soft. The dirt that poured in was hard, and cold. Icy rocks were like razors against my fingertips. My nails split, I lost some in the climb. The heavy coat I was laid down in was no help. It caught against the earth, but I was in no place to take it off. 

Crawling out of the grave took everything from me and bringing Kit’s old coat asked even more. Somehow, I found a way. 

There was a standing pool in the graveyard, and I sprinted to it. I threw myself into the water and I could feel its chill burning against my skin. The water went into my nose, into my head. It itched, and I couldn’t help but scratch and scrub at it feverishly. The worms struggled and died against it. Only I walked out of that horrible bath.

. . .

I was finally able to get my bearings. The sky was a pale gray, the sun was a bleary light behind a veil of winter. The trees were gnarled, and bare. The grass was dead, but there were many graves decorated with still living flowers. 

There’s an old Castellan folk belief that those who die without a proper funeral are given one by the earth. Flowers are said to grow from the corpse, reflective of what kind of person they were in life. It made me wonder if there were any flowers on my grave. 

I had left it a mess, but I didn’t see any flowers or wax paper scraps in the mounds of dirt. My headstone looked affordable, which brought me some comfort. We were never rich, and the last thing I would have wanted was for Kit to go bankrupt over my carelessness. I looked at the sensible concrete slab.

Culita Speardragon

‘Cuffs’

Here lies the greatest detective to ever live.

Born November 6, 20XX. Died October 31, 202X.

A withering vine of bleeding hearts crawled across the marker. The Speardragon Foundation’s emblem was stamped into the concrete’s face, just above my name. There was no shine to the headstone, even in the pale light. It made me wonder if there ever was one. 

My hands weren’t rotting. I pinched my cheek, and it snapped back to my face. It was warm, even. I touched my nose, and there was only a dull pain in the place where it used to be. There was a tickle, like the writhing of worms. I scratched at it, and it stopped.

 I went back to the pool. Everything else was the same, greasy black hair, a constant scowl on my lips, red eyes with heavy bags under them. The big sleep was no help for those.

There was a hole in the middle of my face. I tried not to look at it. 

I wiped the blood from my nose. Only, it wasn’t there.

It curdled like old paint.

It was very dark.

. . .

I could hear the pop behind me, just before I died. I don’t remember hitting the ground. 

I was running towards the Speardragon Foundation. That’s the detective agency I worked at. Kit took me in when I was little and taught me the tricks of the trade. I guess I was like his sidekick. 

It was Halloween. I was on Rummy Street. There were freezing cold puddles and slush all over the cobble sidewalk. The crowd of costumed freaks was dense. I slipped and took a kid Dracula down with me. I remember hoping the guy chasing me would just fall and crack his head. I’m pretty sure it was a guy, based on the huffing I heard. I never got a look at his face. 

I had an envelope. I vaguely remember investigating the mayor’s office, something about a big land grab. Terrible, but hardly anything unheard of. People have certainly died over less. 

I tried to drink from the pool, to have anything to fill my empty stomach. I retched it back up. It burned like a cold fire. I could feel my lips begin to crack. My stomach growled.

I had the strangest craving for hardboiled eggs.

I hopped over the graveyard’s fence. There was an archway leading out to a dirt road, into the woods. The archway read “LONESOME HILL.” Reading that brought a morbid smile to my lips. Kit used to tell me ghost stories of this place all the time. 

It was a long walk back to town, but I’d come out to this place enough times growing up. I tried to summon up the old ghosts from Kit’s stories. A train had torn through an orphanage that once stood here. He showed me the kids’ graves, but they were so old the names had all eroded away. I still believed him. 

Me and this guy named Dante brought a Ouija Board out here one night. That’s when I learned that there really was no such thing as ghosts. We sat on a headstone that had a cold concrete bench, with the crickets and lightning bugs. We were out there until 3am like idiots. 

That’s when I got my first kiss. It was alright, I was completely surprised when he asked me if I wanted to make out. As a detective I like to think I’ve always had a good ear for things that go unsaid, but I didn’t pick up on anything like that with Dante. I don’t know, maybe I was just young. I didn’t see other people like that. 

I knew that I had wasted that night though, at least I got a little something out of it. 

The dirt road eventually emptied out into a highway. I passed by a substation I didn’t remember. Soon enough I was walking through a completely new suburb. The city seemed to have expanded out quite a ways, while I slept. 

It really did look more like a city now, too. I could see a pretty remarkable skyline on the horizon. I recognized the Ferris wheel on the docks, the observatory’s dome, but there were some new towers in between them.

I’ve always called Premier a city, but everyone else calls it a small town. All my life, the population was never under 30,000. I don’t know how they kept that mentality up for so long. It choked out the town’s potential. Nothing to do but work in the mines and get drunk or get into trouble. 

The streetlights were different from before. They used to cast a hazy, buzzing orange light over the street. It made it very foreboding. Nowadays, a pure white light spread quite evenly across his face as he crossed the street towards me. 

“Hey, hon! Do you got a light?”

He was dirty enough to have come fresh from the mine, but there was no telling where he’d been. I kept walking, I tried to pt a little more direction in my meandering steps. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” He grabbed me from behind and spun me around. Once he saw my face, his tone changed considerably. 

“Oh, erm,” he blustered, and sheepishly backed away. “Sorry, I thought you was someone else.” He jogged back across the street. As I watched him gain speed, something in me clicked. Or, snapped, rather. 

By the time he glanced over his shoulder, I was already upon him. This time I grabbed him from behind, right around the trunk in a bearhug. He yelped out in shock, and I threw him to the ground with a firm twist of the hips. I heard his skull bounce against the black pavement. 

I dropped my full weight upon him, and he screamed. He struggled, but I placed a knee between his shoulder blades and grabbed his hair with two clenched fists. I yanked his neck back, and I sent it with all my light. 

The second time I heard his skull hit the pavement, he gasped and gargled. There was blood on his face. 

The third time I bounced it against the ground, I felt the bone give. Like, when you break open a hardboiled egg. I gripped the edge of the fractured shell and peeled back. It took more effort than an egg might have. 

I couldn’t stop myself. His screams had long since stopped. My arms and face were covered in deep red syrup, and I pulled fistful after greedy, starving fistful of grey matter from the shattered egg on the street. It even tasted like scrambled eggs. Not exactly fluffy, more like clumped up mounds of lukewarm noodles with an eggy sauce all over and in them. The occasional springy bit of cartilage and small bones vaguely reminded me of orange juice with pulp, all of these varied flavors and textures at once.

When there was no more, I broke off a piece of skull and set to licking at the interior. 

Suddenly, I came to my senses. At least, I started to feel bad.

With my stomach full after decades, I was full of so much energy. I felt like I could sprint through a building, so, I ran back the way I came.

I crawled back into my grave dirt. I laid there feeling sorry for myself, hoping no one would ever find me, and that this was but another hellish hallucination. 

In time, the winter’s pale sun rose and shined down on me. I heard what must have been the footsteps of the groundskeeper. I heard the click of a double barrel closing. I heard a voice. 

“Holy shit, Cuffs?”

I buried my face and arms in the dirt. “Keep away. Don’t look at me,” I sobbed through mouthfuls of earth. 

The voice began to pray, and I heard the hammers. I decided to sneak a glance, before I got what I deserved. He was a tall, lanky guy. Heavy, long black hair fell in a mop around his broad shoulders. It had practically become a mane. 

“Dante?” I said.

He looked up. I was sure it was him. 

“Please don’t kill me,” I said. It was crazy. My guilt ridden conscience wanted to die, but there was something in me that burned, something that wanted to smash the skull of whoever did this to me. 

He didn’t say anything for a long while. It's still tough to pull words out of him.

I’m not dead, I’m chained up in his basement.

It’s ok, I asked for this.

______________________________________________________________

Please, bring me to silence Before I'm brought to ash End all my violence Bring me to silence That will last

-“Bring me to Silence,” Fievel Is Glauque

What’s next for OUT OF THE FRYING PAN???

Cuffs starts seeing the shadow of a man in a coat and a hat in the corner of her eye after her first night in the basement.

And then, Zorc and Tilde go a-grave robbin, and they end up whacking Dante over the head! They decide to raid his stuff, and OMG! There’s a girl locked up down here! They take her in, Cuffs reluctantly joins them in a heist. A freaky zombie girl would never do as a cop, right?

Meanwhile, Gormica’s wrecking shop with some spooky monsters all across the ruintown. He fondly remembers a fella named Kit Speardragon. Cuffs’ adoptive dad-tective. Thing is, when Cuffs died, Kit was old. Real old. Now, it’s twenty years after the fact.

Legally speaking, none of the artists whose lyrics are featured are affiliated with OUT OF THE FRYING PAN. Anyone who assumes otherwise is a FOOL.

[umbralsound-xiv]

Collapse.

It was a... Comfort to go to, when Sayuri was out. To go to the kitchen and... Cook something. A simple curry, with rice. ...I did not think it would be so difficult. I remembered everything, something i must have done hundreds of times now, only... The rice was... Something was... It... It reminded me of... ...There.

Eir Fellfrost tends the stove, the scent of aromatic spices permiating the kitchen. One pot held a lofty amount of rice, the other simmered a thick, orange sauce. Turning to the counter, Eir slowly takes the knife in hand, beginning to prepare vegetables, lost in his thoughts…

The alluring scent of flavorful food being prepared had caught Erjon's attention, as was usually the case when someone was working in the kitchen. The spices in particular however, were familiar in a way he had not sensed for a few moons now. Making his way down the stairs, boots hitting the wood with each echoing step, he soon spotted who he suspected to find. "About time you showed up," he spoke in the same casual tone he always used. "Hard at work already, I see."

Eir Fellfrost runs a knife carefully through an onion, before a partiularly loud footfall makes him flinch, nicking a finger, head turned towards the sound as he backed anxiously towards the cooker. "I--- I--- H-have been…" He nods, staring. He bunches the wounded hand in a ball of fabric at his sleeve, relinquishing the knife to the floor with a clatter. "…"

He--- He was... ...I should have expected it when i opened the spice jar. It is fine. It is fine. It... I need to be more careful...

Erjon Sjadarwesfv raised an eyebrow, quietly regarding Eir for a moment before getting closer. "You know, knives are pretty sharp. Better be careful with them." He kept observing Eir as he got closer before coming to a stop by the counter door. "Or better yet, not handle a dangerous object while you're shaking like a leaf. Even if what you are making smells pretty good. You just got back from what I can only imagine to be a pretty traumatic event."

Eir Fellfrost: "I… w-was fine…" He stammers, staring at the knife. But he doesn't reach for it. He stares at Erjon, a death grip on the fabric at his hand. "Y-you just… Spooked me, i-is all." Eir swallows an anxious lump, before slowly kneeling to retrieve the knife, eyes not moving from him for a moment.

Erjon Sjadarwesfv: "Right, my bad. Not sure sneaking down the stairs would have been any better though, would it? If you're this jumpy now, then I can only imagine me suddenly saying 'hello' might have caused you to actually lose a finger or two." He invited himself to the kitchen as he usually would, walking around and observing the foodstuffs Eir was preparing. "In any case, welcome back. Glad to see you didn't die."

...I did not die. I... ...Did not. Did not? No. No no no. I... Do not think about this, now. I am alive! I am alive. ...How close was i, to the opposite...?

Eir Fellfrost: "No, n-no. I was simply… Lost in my thoughts…" Eir trails, moving to rinse and clean off the knife before he plans to use it again, the bleeding at his finger stemmed. "I… D-did not die. No." He says, as though convincing himself. "…B-but it was… Close…" Eir quietly admits…

Erjon Sjadarwesfv glanced at Eir over his shoulder as he walked around him, curiously eyeing the pot on the stove. "Hm. I'm not surprised, with what little I have heard. Despite it not being operated by the company, quite a few invested themselves into getting the two of you out of there. Seems to have been difficult. But here you are."

Eir Fellfrost works slower now, carefully adding things to the pan as he'd finished dicing. The moment he is done, he turns to face Erjon, never quite letting him out of his sight. "Some… Th-they came for us. If… If it were not for them, perhaps we… We would still be…" Eir trails, shaking his head, almost forcing himself to cut those words short. "…W-would not be the… F-first time."

Erjon Sjadarwesfv watched the pot for a moment before turning to face Eir properly, arms crossing as he watched him. "First time?"

Eir Fellfrost: "…Werlyt." Was his only remark, careful to not divulge too much information to prying ears. "…It is… No secret i am… N-not the best fighter…"

...It... Was the first time. That i almost died. That i was... I... I remember it. Vision goes first. Blurred, then black. Then sound. I... No, no no... Why am i thinking of this now? Is it because of him? Because we were... We...

Erjon Sjadarwesfv: "Ah, you meant that. The curse of a long year and little peace, hm?" He walked over to the stack of fruit, grabbing himself an apple before taking a bite out of it. "You sure you don't regret associating yourself with mercenaries yet? I don't doubt things like this will keep happening, and you seem pretty done with it all. Maybe becoming a baker would have been a more comfortable change of career."

Eir Fellfrost: "I h-have made my choice." Eir replies, a little more sternly. "We will suffer a-anyway. So let me suffer for someone i care for." His gaze drifts a little lower. "I… H-have friends here. People i love. I w-will not leave them. N-not again."

No. Not... Not like Bozja. ...No! This is nothing like then! I... I am not expected to fight, this... This... I am not a conscript! This was just... This is just...! I am going nowhere! Things will keep happening, and perhaps i could have chose a more peaceful, more kind life! A sadder life, for not meeting her, for not meeting the friends i have now! I chose this, and i chose her!

Erjon Sjadarwesfv: "A bit dramatic there, aren't you?" He took another bite out of the apple as he made his way back to invade Eir's air of nervosity. "I'm sure plenty here are glad to have you back. After all, many headed out to save you, didn't they?" He kept chewing as he talked before pausing to swallow. "In any case, it's not like you would have been able to fight your way out of that place on your own like a juggernaut. But you're stubborn. You endured, and you survived. Congrats."

Erjon Sjadarwesfv: "However, you are not free. Not entirely. I'm sure you have realized that yourself, you're an even bigger nervous wreck than you were before. Afraid only time will do the trick. Good thing you got plenty of it now, hm? As long as you avoid playing with knives of course."

Eir Fellfrost: "It is hardly dramatic. It is the t-truth. You know this." Eir spoke, lowering his gaze. "…People… Are glad to have m-me back. They have told me. I… B-believe them." He eyes the bubbling curry for just a moment, glance tracing back to Erjon. "I am -lucky-, more than i am stubborn." The voice that had been full of so much steadiness had begun to falter. "A-and i will be fine! I w-will. I w-was after th-the Locket. A-and after everything… Th-that came before. Why should th-this b-be any different?"

I have endured misery after misery, and i am still here! Why would this be any different? It hurts, and it hurts, and it... Should. I am still here. ...I am still here.

Erjon Sjadarwesfv tilted his head, eyebrow raised just a bit. "I don't doubt you will be. You've been to hell and back more times than one. But it never fully leaves you now, does it?" Finishing the last of his apple, he turned to toss the core in the trash. "So… How are you feeling, Eir?" There was no sarcasm to Erjon's voice as he spoke, like there so often would be.

To hear Erjon speak his name; no mocking undertone, no nickname, was enough to silence him. "I am f-f-fine…" Eir eventually lied, with the well of tears in his eyes, no matter how he fought them. "It… It w-will just be another… A-another…" His voice trails, wavery, as Eir stood stone still; the usual rock back and forth of the balls of his feet absent in his other anxious moments.

I... I am fine. I... Have to be. What other choice do i... Have?

Erjon Sjadarwesfv: "… Another trauma? Another painful memory? Another scar to ignore until it fades?" Erjon watched as Eir's pretend reassurance started to falter. "You are not fine, clearly. Why pretend? You don't have to be strong for anyone."

Eir Fellfrost takes another shaky breath, lips parting to give a reply… But he can't. The sound that leaves is a sob, as tears stream down his cheeks, backing further away into the counter. "I… A-am trying!" Eir speaks through gritted teeth as the grief wells.

I... I am not being strong for anyone. Not... Not even myself. I... I just... I just wanted things to be normal. Even... Even for a few bells...!

Erjon Sjadarwesfv: "It won't go away by pretending it doesn't bother you as much as it does. You're a mess, Eir." Erjon frowned softly as he spoke, unusually serious for being somewhere that was not a battlefield.

Eir Fellfrost: "I… I--…" The sound is almost vomited up from his throat; a wail, a scream as Eir hurries right past Erjon in some effort to hide his face, though only makes it so far before his legs begin to give. Eir drops to his knees, and all he seems to want to do is curl into a ball, face hidden against his knees as he hides beneath the worktop. "I-it w-will n-not go away!" Eir's voice is loud, distressed, "M-my every n-nightmare is full of a-all that happened th-there! S-so what?! A-are you happy? H-happy th-that you could see through it? Th-that you were right?!"

...Why? Why would you not just let me pretend? Pretend for a few bells that i am fine, and everything else is?! Why do you care how i am feeling?!

The sudden loud noise that escaped Eir surprised Erjon enough for him to stare baffled at him as he hurried past him. He was quick to understand what was happening however and walked up to Eir, not too quickly or with steps as heavy as he usually would. He got down on one knee in front of him, frowning softly as he studied Eir's trembling frame. "Eir, you're having a panic attack. It's only the two of us here. You are not in danger."

Eir Fellfrost took another breath; fighting to speak through it, he shrinks back against the alcove until the hardwood was felt flat against his back, sobbing. "It will happen a-again… It w-will h-ha--ppen… A-again…" His breaths, hitched and halfway to hyperventilating spilled more tears forth, though curled away as he was, he couldn't neither see, nor easily be seen. "M-my legs! He -broke- m-my legs!" Eir begins to rock, as to get some feeling back into them, numb and stiff now that they'd betrayed him. "D-do you k---know? H-how it f--eels to have th-the -only th--thing- of m-mine i c-could rel--ly on, t-take away from m-me…?"

Erjon Sjadarwesfv watched Eir as he continued rambling, patiently listening before carefully reaching one hand to put on his shoulder. "Breathe, Eir. Breathe. In… and out." As if to demonstrate, he took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled. "… I will never know how you feel. I have not experienced what you have. I'm sorry for pushing you into a corner. But… you are here. You are breathing. Your legs are working."

Erjon Sjadarwesfv: "I know scars never truly heal, be they on your body or your soul. No doubt you have gotten more now. You don't have to hide them, that just makes them more present."

Eir Fellfrost weeps all the more fitfully for the contact, but doesn't retreat from it. "Th-they used m-me as -bait-! For her! For -her-!" He's almost screaming, but it's not anger, it's grief. "Th-they used m-me like a-an animal! I w-was not g-good for… A-anything, wh-when they h-had her…" He trembles, voice breaking. "J-just bait…" He sobs for a little longer, catching his breath with Erjon's quiet instruction. "I… D-do not… W-want anyone to s-see…" He sobs. "N-not… E-even her…"

Erjon Sjadarwesfv sighed before moving to sit underneath the counter next to Eir. "You're so hung up on your weaknesses. I've heard you complain about your own strength since day one. You're not being fair, Eir. Not to yourself, or those who trust in you. Like Sayuri. Do you think you have to seem strong for others to trust you? To rely on you?"

Eir Fellfrost: "N-no, o-of course n-not!" Finally, Eir pulls his tear stricken face from his knees. "B-but if i w-was stronger, th-this would… N-not have h-happened. I… W-would have been able to f-fight. Do… S-something…"

...Something. Anything. I... I would have been able to defend myself. Hold on a little... Longer. Done... Something. Anything, to get away, or to free us... But i... ...I am not... ...Strong enough.

Erjon Sjadarwesfv: "I doubt so. While it may not have happened when it did, it would have happened eventually. As miserable as that feeling might be. There is no use in thinking 'what if'. It happened, and there's that. And now you've got to deal with the results of it. Step one being to acknowledge that it hurt you, and it still hurts.

Eir Fellfrost: "A-and what d-do you t-think this is? I -am- h-hurting!" He was still half yelling, even now, though it simmered with his next words. "I… T-think it… W-will, always. H-how… C-could i… Possibly pr-pretend otherwise?" He chokes another sob, head rested back against the wall. "I… K-know it w-will happen a-again. B-but…" He shakes his head, words quietening to a whisper. "I k-know this."

...And i chose this. It hurts. I am... Afraid, and i know it will, but i made my choice, and i regret nothing of it! ...Nothing of being with her. I know what i want, and i know what the more difficult life would be. I do not want to be without her.

Erjon Sjadarwesfv: "It's easy to say 'I can handle this', or 'it's worth the pain and suffering'. It's a whole different thing to live up to those words. Anyone who confidently claims they can is full of crap. This kind of stuff isn't something you brush under the rug to go frolick in a flower field of pretend."

Eir Fellfrost: "…I c-can." Eir sniffles. It's quiet, but confident. "A-and it is. S-she is. I k-know what it is to be w-without her. I d-do not want to be w-without h-her again. O-of… A-all the things they… D-did to me, that… That hurt. M-more than anything." Tears still continue to pour, though the outright sobbing has stopped, for the moment. "I… H-have before. W-we both have. W-we would not b-be here, otherwise…"

...I can handle this. I will cry and scream the entire time, but i will. And it is worth the pain and suffering. ...It is like the Locket. If... If i had to endure it all again, to be where i am now, i... I would, without question.

Erjon Sjadarwesfv: "If you say so. But you can't pretend to be dealing with this just fine in front of her or anyone else forever. Especially if stuff like this is bound to keep happening."

Eir Fellfrost: "…S-she knows. I… I d-do not pretend i-in front of h-her. Just… J-just out here." Eir swallows the lump in his throat. "I j-just w-want some n-normality. I… I cannot simply confine m-myself t-to my room and scream." Eir blinks away tears, though is still clearly upset. "…W-what else was i s-supposed to s-say? You… Y-you did not come here t-to l-listen to me w-weep."

Erjon Sjadarwesfv shrugged a hand. "I came looking for food and I found a Viera about to have a nervous breakdown. Did screaming out here feel a little less confining?"

Eir Fellfrost: "…I-it felt…" Eir closes his eyes, lips still drawn into a frown. "…I-if someone else h-here would understand, it… I-it would h-have been you.."

...It... It would have been him. He knows. He understands, he has... Walked a similar path, before. ...But he handles it better. I am... Weak. Delicate. Sensitive. I wanted to thank him for... For being here. But the entire notion of it felt so... Stupid.

Erjon Sjadarwesfv: "… I have seen this before, if that's what you mean. I'm sure you recognize the signs as well. This wasn't exactly uncommon."

Eir Fellfrost: "N-no. It…. W-was not." Eir whispers, finding some steadiness, now. "Th-the whole b-boat ride to Eorzea. I… I n-never said a w-word…" He wavers, gazing up to Erjon. "I… A-am still s-scared. S-scared they w-will take her again. A-and i will n-not be able to d-do anything…"

Erjon Sjadarwesfv: "It might happen. Or it won't. You'll have to deal with these thoughts, and with the knowledge that you will be involved either way if you make that choice. You know your own weaknesses and strengths, Eir."

Eir Fellfrost: "I k-know i d-do not want to be w-without h-her. I h-have made m-my choice." Eir whispers, and a ghost of a smile moves over his lips. "I… I a-asked her to m-marry me."

Erjon Sjadarwesfv raised an eyebrow. "You really are a masochist, huh. Well, congratulations. Have fun looking after your nerves. I'm guessing there will be cake."

Eir Fellfrost gives the most fleeting smile. "…S-some people are w-worth suffering f-for. A-and yes. There will."

I had expected him to... Chide me more for it. But i felt i had to tell him, at least. I wanted to tell everyone, the whole world, but... ...There are people worth suffering for. Though i would prefer it if it need never happen... I would, if it meant keeping her.

Erjon Sjadarwesfv: "Well, don't come to me if you need a therapist. I look forward to cake though." He glanced at the pot still on the stove. "How's the cooking going, by the way?"

Eir Fellfrost: "O-oh!" Eir exclaims, narrowly avoiding the shelf he'd crammed himself under to tend the stove; the rice was a little overdone, but salvagable. He stirs the curry thoroughly, ensuring it hadn't stuck as he feared. Slowly turning to look to Erjon, Eir moves to take two plates.

Erjon Sjadarwesfv grabbed the edge of the counter top for support as he got up on his feet, careful not to hit his head as he straightened his back. "Almost had two disasters this evening, huh."

Eir Fellfrost: "Almost." Eir manages. A hefty portion of rice is piled atop one of the plates, and a heap of curry soon joins it. Taking a handful of cutlery, Eir turns and walks to Erjon, offering the plate without hesitation. "…I-it is better fresh." Eir smiles, gratitude in his expression. "…B-better than leftovers."

...Though it was because of his words i... I reacted as i did, i would not doubt that i needed to hear it. That... That it was okay, if... If i was not. That i did not have to pretend... I... ...He deserves better than leftovers. Though he is insufferable on occasion, this... I... It is the only thanks i can think to give.

Erjon Sjadarwesfv raised his eyebrows ever so slightly at the offered plate of food. It did smell just as enticing as when he first caught a whiff of it upstairs. "My thanks, it's been a while since I got to eat something that tries to burn my tastebuds." He wasted no time in getting a spoonful of rice and curry to eat, not even bothering with sitting down.

Eir Fellfrost: "…This one is not so spicy. F-flavourful, though." With the easing of his nerves, the stammer than had clung to his words begins to settle, returning to prepare his own plate. "If… You p-prefer something spicier, i can always prepare it as such, n-next time…?"

Already on his second bite, he looked at Eir with curious eyes before swallowing. "Are you offering a challenge? I accept. Just don't feel tempted to kill me."

Eir Fellfrost: "No, n-no, i w-would not." He pulls his lips into a line, before they curl into a small grin. "…B-but y-you might make s-strange faces."

Erjon Sjadarwesfv: "Faces of bliss or faces of despair? I'm up for the challenge." He walked a little closer to Eir, corner of his mouth lifting into a crooked grin. "Surprise me with some ginger cookies at the wedding, won't you?" Giving a single pat on Eir's back, Erjon started walking towards the stairs, still eating his food from his plate. "Don't go disappearing for moons anytime again soon now, alright?"

Eir Fellfrost: "N-no promises!" Eir calls, though it's a lighthearted tone. "I h-have both a wedding -a-and- a honeymoon to plan!" Eir watches as he escends the stairs, intending to clean the kitchen once again. "…E-enjoy the f-food---…" Eir manages, sentence ending a little abruptly.

...Erjon. I... I almost said his name. Something stopped me, and i... ...Is he a friend? I have never consciously thought of him as one, but... ...Maybe. I do not know. The more i speak to him... The more comfort i find in his answers. His understanding. Without judgement, to know we have walked a similar path... ...Does he think the same of me? Or am i simply just another face in a hall full of people...?

[jtownraindancer]

Some pro-tips from someone in northeastern usa with food sensory issues AND cooks for both a small army of picky eaters & folks with different health risks:

Frozen onions are pre-diced and very, very easy to add into things. Unless someone has an allergy, I toss a handful of frozen onions (and garlic) into most of the dishes I cook. In thicker sauces & soups especially, they're very easy to sneak in.

Most squashes can be pureed and mixed into sauce! I like to use butternut squash especially (very popular donation to the food pantry so we always end up with a bunch) to mix into my stovetop mac'n'cheese sauce! Also another dish that you can freeze, though I will say that cubed squash (pumpkin especially~) is also really, really good when roasted with bacon, or when mixed into seasonal risotto.

Cauliflower! Cauliflower is a miracle veggie to me! You can dice it, rice it, mash it, use it as an alternative to pizza dough, and from personal experience it is absolutely delicious when breaded and deep fried.

Cucumbers! They go great with mint, watermelon, and are easy to sneak into sandwiches!

Kale & spinach are some greens that always are fairly popular with the crowd. For kale I like to either fry it up with some bacon, chicken, and pecans or dice it really fine to mix into soups. Spinach is very similar to that, but both are also good for salads. Kale has kind of a bitter- very mild!- taste to it and a bit more crunch; spinach is a little more bland & a bit softer (slightly longer to chew). Kale is also a good base for pesto. (I had so much kale from my garden last year; I had to get creative.)

Tomatoes are a hit-and-miss for me, so I've been getting more creative with them. I usually take canned tomatoes (homemade or store bought are both really good) and mix them into Hamburger Helpers (I'm poor and they're yummy), puree them for my own quick pasta sauce or salsa. I also love the smell of stewed tomatoes with mac'n'cheese but hated the texture; I found a recipe online that incorporates bell pepper slices and a slow simmer. I make them every time together.

Corn is very versatile. I personally love to make homemade cornbread (no idea how old our family recipe is), grill it, boil it, broil it, mix it into soups... I know there are more ideas out there, but I haven't tried them all yet.

Celery is one of those veggies I still can't quite get into, but it's always been good for soup: chunks into chicken pot pie, beef vegetable, pureed into a chilled celery soup on hot summer days, or even as a key ingredient in a veggie stock for meals later on.

Frozen berries! I know this thread is about veggies, but fruits & veggies kind of go hand-in-hand with this for me. Frozen berries can easily be added to ice cream, smoothies, cookies, or made into sauces & dressings for your rice, salads, & roasted meats. A few weeks back I used one bag of frozen blueberries to make a sauce that I put on chicken thighs, rice, and the rest went into a salad dressing. Plus they can be added to muffins, cereals, oatmeal, grits if you're willing to give it a go (maple syrup adds a little something-something too~)

Apples! I love apples; I can never stop thinking about how good apples are. They are very crunchy as they are and are very yummy raw, or drizzled with caramel, honey, baked into pies, grilled with brown sugar & cinnamon... Some of my personal favorites though are recipes where I slice them thin and incorporate them into my salads & sandwiches. Apple slices with cheddar cheese, apple butter, and cucumber slices on a cracker is divine for a midday snack, or apple slices with turkey, brie, and a little bit of honey toasted together (good place for some romaine lettuce too). My younger brother loves to grill up some slices of sausage with kale, apple, chive & onion cream cheese on toasted pieces of baguette.

Canned pears, peaches, and pineapple are always another option you can fall back on. I'm sure it's nowhere as good as the original, but I like to make sticky rice with pears as a dessert sometimes, and I've found the full sized canned pears are also good for making into a compote. Pineapple slices always add a little bit to a roast ham, and I love to heat up my peach slices in the microwave with a little cinnamon. They make easy snacks, too.

If you're like me and you have a phobia of produce going bad before you can finish it, I'd do a little digging into what you know you like to see if you could preserve it in some way.

Canned foods are usually fairly cheap (rinse several times before cooking to remove excess sodium!) and will stay good for several years.

Frozen fruits and veggies are often cut up in advance, which I can say from experience can save a LOT of time, and you don't need to use an entire bag in one go. I usually just do a handful or so at a time. Many also come with seasoning and can be cooked in the microwave!

If you, like me, rely on a food pantry, or even if you have to shop bulk, and tend to end up with a lot of fresh produce you don't think you can eat, it's worth the effort to set a day aside (if you can!) to figure out ways you can preserve it. I often spend my Saturday afternoons canning, dehydrating, and/or freezing what I know we can't use in the next week. I usually don't have a lot of spoons when I get home from work during the week, so any time I can save for myself cooking later is much better. (You can also freeze fresh herbs, cheeses, and meat!)

Getting into the habit of eating healthier can be a challenge, but it's worth trying to experiment and finding what sticks. In my case, it was eating mac'n'cheese baked inside a pumpkin & having my entire world view shift on me. Maybe it'll be something as simple as eating an apple slice drizzled with honey, or trying a different cheese on some leafy greens. You just have to find what works for you, and be patient with it.

i mean this in the gentlest way possible: you need to eat vegetables. you need to become comfortable with doing so. i do not care if you are a picky eater because of autism (hi, i used to be this person!), you need to find at least some vegetables you can eat. find a different way to prepare them. chances are you would like a vegetable you hate if you prepared it in a stew or roasted it with seasoning or included it as an ingredient in a recipe. just. please start eating better. potatoes and corn are not sufficient vegetables for a healthy diet.

[iranknoodles]

SAMYANG BULDAK - 2X SPICY ARTIFICIAL SPICY CHICKEN FLAVOR RAMEN (STIR-FRIED RAMEN NOODLES)

PRODUCT

Origin: South Korea

Brand: Samyang Buldak

Flavour: Spicy Chicken

Ingredients:

Noodles (76.7%)

Wheat Flour

Thickener (E1420, E412)

Palm Oil

Wheat Gluten

Salt

Emulsifier (E422, E322)

Soybean Oil

Acidity Regulator (E501, E500, E339, E330)

Water

Tocopherol Powder

Green Tea Extract

Colour (E101)

Soup (22,7%)

Water

Artificial Chicken Flavour (Gluten, Soy, Celery)

Soy Sauce

Sugar

Habanero Pepper

Soybean Oil

Chilli Pepper

Onion

Flavour Enhancer (E621)

Chilli Pepper Oleoresin

Garlic

Chilli Pepper Seed Oil

Thickener (E1420)

Colour (E160c)

Black Pepper

Curry Seasoning (Celery)

Flake (0,6%)

Roasted Sesame

Roasted Laver

Special Indications:

May contain traces of

Crustaceans

Egg

Fish

Mollucs

Milk

Mustard

Nuts

Peanuts

Halal

Preparation:

Boil 600ml of water

Cook the noodles in the boiling water for 5 minutes

Drain the noodles but save 8 tablespoons of the cooking water

Add the noodles, the water and the sauce to a pan and stir-fry for 30 seconds

Add the flakes

----

REVIEW

Preparation: 6/10 - Alright (definitely more complicated than most but it took me no more than 10 minutes, still)

Appearence: 7.5/10 - Good (the noodles looked very juicy by themselves and they were definitely enhanced by the sauce)

Smell: 6.5/10 - Okay (it did smell like spice initially but it faded very quickly)

Flavour Accuracy: 5/10 - Okay (it says spicy chicken, so I'm giving it half the total score because it is absolutely fucking correct about the spice but there is no chicken in this whatsoever)

Tastiness: 4/10 - Meh (it just fucking tastes like sesame oil, outside the spice and that's not a very tasty thing at all)

Spiciness: 10/10 - Deadly Spicy (if you're not good with spice or if you eat too fast you could definitely have a really bad time, it fucking burns your entire system)

Texture: 8.5/10 - Very Good (very good wheat noodles, probably one of the best out there, it has just the right amount of gummyness to it)

Portion: 8/10 - Good (it can feed you and if you're feeling generous it can feed someone else too, though you'll need to eat something else then)

Final Rating: 7 - Good

Final Considerations: This is my 3rd time eating this flavour and I'm not gonna lie, it's something I have to physically and mentally prepare for. Don't get me wrong, I like spicy stuff and I do like the kinda of spice this flavour brings to the table (pun intended) but it is A LOT of spice and it burns your mouth, your nose, your throat, your lips, your ear canals... It's not for the weak and it definitely needs some preparation. My only regret with this flavour is the oil flavour that you feel as an initial taste (before the spice kicks in) because I hate sesame oil. I guess if you're a fan of it, it can be good, but I'm frankly yet to meet someone like that. I would not recommend as an everyday meal but I recommend it as a different sort of meal or a self-challenge. It is certainly an experience. Just be prepared to suffer, eh?

[plush-rabbit]

The Brothers + Diavolo Making You Flustered

Request: Hi!hi! The aphrodisiac writing was absolutely *chefs kiss*. I have this habit of when I get embarrassed/flustered I immediately bury my face into the surface in front of me. Like if I’m sitting on the floor I’ll lean over and bury my face on the carpet, sitting at a table I’ll lean over and plant my face on the surface etc. How do you think the brothers (+diavolo if that’s okay) would react to seeing MC do that for the first time when they make them flustered? You’re so talented by the way! ily!

Word Count: 1K each

A/N: I hope you like this!! It was a bit difficult since i didn't want to make everything the same, but yeah!!

-

Lucifer:

His sleeves are rolled up, flour coating the tips of his fingers and dusting across his apron, and the smell of garlic and onion fills the room. It smells lovely, it smells like a home. You stand beside Lucifer, watching as the water boils, bubbles fizzling out and steam rising. A box of noodles is held in your hands, your eyes peering over to where the bread is held in his hands. Your tongue peeks between your lips- it’s a soft pink, tinged with blue from candy and for a moment, he forgets himself, wanting to taste the candy that rests on your tongue, wishing that he were your lips to feel the gentle caress of your tongue.

“Remind me what we’re making again?” You ask, sniffing at the pot, only to scrunch your nose at the scent. “And why it’s us making it?”

“A Devildom dish,” he responds, giving a side glance. “It’s similar enough to a human cousine, so you needn’t worry about it being anything unsavory.” He turns to you, his smile almost teasing. “And we’re making it because it’s our turn on cooking duty.”

“If you wanted to spend time with me, you could always ask.” While your words are true, he tries to hold his composure, not wanting to reveal that you had hit the nail on its head. “You don’t have to assign us both to cooking duty. It’s pretty sneaky for you, dear Lucifer.” Your hand pats at his back and he promptly turns away from you

Walking away from you, he starts the timer on the oven, the preheat button lights up as the oven begins to glow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I drew our names on a complete random.” He turns to you, his smile making you unable to see what he’s really thinking. “Do you not wish to spend time with me?” he asks cooly, walking towards you. Despite the flour on his hands that dusts over his face, and the apron wrapped around him, he still holds an aura of confidence and authority that makes you break away from his gaze first.

“You’re absolutely awful,” you mutter, giving him a grin to let him know that it was a playful insult.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he coos, his grin wicked and cool at the same time. “I must not be totally awful if you still wish to spend time with me.” You groan, shaking your head with a smile on your lips and he turns to hide his more giddy smile, smiling calmly when the oven beeps. The preheat session is done. He opens the oven, a wave of hot air making him knit his brows together for a moment. “There’s no need to be ashamed of being so fond of me. I am Pride, it’s only natural that you would gravitate towards me.” He grabs the rack of bread, carefully slipping it inside the oven and closing the door.

“Well you’re a lot more than Pride to me.” His eyes widen and he turns to you, his body facing towards the oven with his head half-turned. “You’re Lucifer. You’re someone close to me and well, I actually am glad that we got to spend time together. I would love to hear you admit that you simply wanted to spend time with me, but-” you shrug- “you’ve got that stubborn pride that I can’t help but adore.” You turn to him, a cheeky smile on your face that matches the light in your eyes.

It’s silent between the two of you. It’s comforting, one that is welcomed and isn’t making either of you awkward. He watches as you carefully stir the pot, your index skimming under the words of the cookbook. Your brows furrow as you carefully read over the direction, careful to not add the wrong ingredient or wrong measurement. You’re methodical, carefully going about everything, and in the kitchen with Lucifer, he can’t help but smile at you, his smile soft and eyes crinkled as he watches you carefully.

“I know I haven’t told you this enough- or perhaps before-” silverware clinks together as he reaches over from a baking brush, his eyes never leaving yours- “but I’m actually quite proud of you.” He tears his gaze away from you, his smile widening and his chest puffing. “You have this knack about you that makes it so easy for others to fall for you, that I have to admit that even I have fallen victim to you.” The baguettes are painted over with a mixture of garlic and spices, his words never stopping or falling to hesitation as he speaks. “You’re-” he sighs, not knowing how to put what he wants to say into words- “I’ve been Lucifer for such a long time, living and holding power, but I must say, when I’m around you, I feel more me than I ever had in my entire existence.” He turns his body to you, his hands open and knuckles brushing over your cheek, a thin line of white left against your face. “I’m glad that I’ve gotten to meet you.”

His eyes widen, his words finally registering to his ears. He looks up, eyes meeting the stone wall before he turns to you, his mouth agape and hands still holding a baguette, and the baking brush. The garlic and onion sizzle on the stove, the yellow glow of the kitchen and the buzzing sounds of the outside do everything to fill the room, not a single ounce of silence is graced to either of you.

“You can’t just say stuff like that!” You say in a hurried tone, your face hot enough that you can feel sweat start to bead. “It’s- It’s-” you can’t find the proper words, it isn’t embarrassing but it isn’t something that you hear everyday- “Ah!” You decided, burying your face further into the table, your hands cushioning the blow.

His hand claps over your back, slowly rubbing between your shoulder blades in an attempt to soothe you over. “I would have thought you would have enjoyed hearing the truth,” he teases lightly. “Was I wrong about that assumption?” he presses, his elbow nudging against your shoulder where you still lay with your head rested in your hands.

You peer upwards, your face slowly revealed to show a flushed color that makes his chest puff with pride, his smile . “You wanna know why I know that you wanted to spend time with me?” Lucifer raises his brows in confusion. “I hadn’t written down my name yet.” His smile twitches away for a moment. “You called it before I could even write my name down.” You smile at him, your smile gentle. “I still have the paper in my pocket. You really like me, huh Lucifer?”

Mammon:

Textbooks are left open, pencils and pens sprawled over the coffee table as you and Mammon rest on the couch. He talks vividly, and as he’s excited to tell you stories of his past, his mouth works faster, skipping over details and returning to them moments later. Your hands are wrapped tight around his bicep, your face hidden as you try to stifle your laughter. He can feel your hands tighten, the way that you cling to him and even try to push yourself closer to him. “So that was when I decided to just grab all the things I could carry and just book it!” Mammon exclaims, clapping his hands together and extending his right arm forward. “You should’ve seen how angry those witches were, but hell, they deserved it for thinking they could pull one over on me.” He turns to you, his grin wicked, slowly widening as he leans back cautiously to not let you move away from him. “Fuckers should’ve known to not touch my stuff.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head and leaning onto him. His smile twitches for a second, softening into a gentler smile, watching as you turn your face into his arm, trying to stifle your laughter. It’s loud, infectious and it’s something that reminds him of a spring day that he once spent in the Human Realm. He isn’t sure how to explain it- something about it that screams life and youth, something that sounds so unapologetically like you, that it makes him breathless. When you start to pull away, he lets his grin widen, eager to look at you again.

He’s so close to you, your hand within arm’s reach that if he really wanted to, he could just take it in his. His mouth goes dry, his tongue too invasive in his own mouth and he watches as you adjust your hair, his eyes fixated on how your hair slips through your fingers. There are words stuck in his throat, but no matter what he thinks of to say, he isn’t sure what he should say. He’s at a loss, wondering what would be the perfect way to bring back the mood, to continue the conversation without it being forced, but in all honesty, he’s fine, just sitting here with you. He’s more than fine with just staring at you.

“Hey, Mammon?” He jolts at his name being said, a shock running through his spine. He nods his head, swallowing what little saliva is in his mouth. “I really like hearing your stories, you know?” You smile softly at the book in your hands. He watches you with unblinking eyes, wondering what it is that you’re getting at. “I really just like listening to your voice. I know you were stuck with me at first-” internally he flinches, he doesn’t like to reminisce when you were first put under his charge- “but I’m glad that it was you.” He is left breathless, his muscles tense as you look at him, a smile stretching past your lips and gracing your lips. You look at him for a moment, your eyes darting to where his hand is clenched tightly and you nod to yourself, turning your attention back to the book.

You’re facing away from him, your fingertips tracing over the edge of a page as you try to focus on the words but he can tell from the pout on your lips that you aren’t registering anything from the book. What should he say? What can he say? He knows he has to say something. He knows that he should match your energy or at least attempt to but he can’t. There are so many things he wants to tell you, and they all seem so disorganized. You’re pretty. You’re nice to him and you always let him sneak into your bedroom late at night. You rely on him and as much as you need him, he needs you more. You have such a soft touch that it leaves him tingling all over as if some ghost were the one responsible for it. He lets out a slow breath, his lips parted slightly as he breathes out. “You know,” he says quietly, his fingers twitching and moving to clutch at the end of your shirt, “you got a real nice laugh. It’s nice to spend time with you, ya know?” Once he’s started talking, he’s unable to quiet himself, unable to register the things that he’s saying to you. “I like hanging out with other demons and all, but there’s something about you that I like more. It’s like with you-” his hand waves in the air, eyes glancing around your room- “I get to just feel safe. I get to relax and know that I can count on you. And I want you to know that no matter what, I’ll always be on your side. Forever and ever.” Mammon turns his head, his smile stretched wide and hand going to cover yours. “You turned me into a sap, ya know?’”

The moment is tender as he smiles down at you, only to slowly realize the weight of his words as you stop in your movements, your fingers letting the page fall back to the others, words lost upon themselves as your shoulders rise. His eyes widen and his lips thin. Heat creeps upwards from his chest and scorches its way to mar his features, his face turning into a darker shade as he flushes. His mouth goes dry, unable to produce any type of saliva as he sits beside you. Slowly, his mouth parts, and he’s unable to find the words to deny what he just said, but before he can, you curl in on yourself, burying your way into your hands, your hands spread and fingers parting to cover as much of your face as it can.

“I-” he coughs loudly into the rook of his elbow. You can tell that he wants to resort to his usual denial of feelings but he stops himself before he can even reach the middle of his sentence. “Listen, just because you-” you can feel his eyes on you- “will ya look up at me? I’m not gonna tear your head off or anything, I just don’t want you getting a bigger head than you already have.” You slowly turn to him, watching as he tries to avoid your gaze. “Let’s just go get a bite to eat. We can’t study on empty stomachs or whatever.” He rises quickly, his hand held out to you as he keeps his attention out on the door. “Come on, I’ll pay for ya and everything.”

Your lips thin and you look at his hand. You inhale a sharp breath of air, slowly letting it go. His face is still flushed, a deep color that burns against his skin. “Like a date?” You ask, hoping to see more of his reactions. He stiffens at your question, his brows furrowing to meet each other. He stammers out a response, clearly flustered. You lay your hand on his and he immediately quiets down. You smile at yourself, your heart skipping a beat as you realize that it was you who brought him to such a state. Slowly, his hand curls with yours and he gives a brief nod of his head.

Leviathan:

Leviathan sits alone in his room, a blanket pooled around his lower half, his eyes have begun to burn, tinged with red from lack of sleep as bright colors flash across his pale face. An empty bowl save for kernels that rest at the bottom of the bowl, his fingertips tinged with red and he can feel his mouth heavy with acid and past snacks.

His hands tap against his controller, his fingers already reaching toward a button before he can even register what he should press. His mind is on autopilot, reaching and stiffening when an enemy nears and even so, his character is still killed. He lets out a frustrated groan, careful to throw his controller towards his pillows and not the walls- he can’t risk losing yet another controller; least of all having to patch a hole- or in his case, covering it with a poster. His hands are thrown into the air, fingers outstretched before they are curled into a fist. He arches his back forward, the heels of his hands cushioning his eyes. He tears up slightly, wincing at the sudden realization of burning pain that lingers in his eyes. Slowly, he pulls away just in time to hear his door creak open.

“Password,” he says with a lack of conviction, turning slightly to watch as you enter with a bag in your hand. He raises his brows, his arm stretching outward as he blindly searches for his controller. “What do you have there?” He jerks his chin, returning his attention to the game in front of him.

The light clicks on- something bright that fills the room in a soft blue that stretches around him. He winces at the sudden light, the controller dropped onto his lap as he rubs his eyes vigorously. If it weren’t obvious enough that he kept himself secluded in his room, it was obvious from the way that he rubbed at his eyes, and had to blink multiple times before he could finally look at you without shielding his eyes. You end him a wicked smile that slowly grows until you reveal your teeth, the bag in your hand held slightly tighter. In response, he sticks his tongue out at you, his cheeks tinted with a pale shade of pink.

“I’m surprised it’s taken you so long to defeat the boss,” you say, walking towards the bathtub where he sits. You sit in front of the porcelain, your gaze fixated on a television system that he has set up for a more immersive gameplay experience. When you are met with a lack of response, you turn your head to see him with narrowed eyes. “What? No witty remark?” Once more, you’re met with silence. “Levi?”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “I- Fuck, you know?” This time, he’s met with silence. “First, I can’t get the concert tickets, then I can’t even get the new figure and now, I can’t even defeat this stupid game.” His cheeks fill with air, and he slowly lets the breath go past his lips. “And the concert was going to have passes to meet them behind the stage and the figure was signed and-” his character dies once more and the controller is tossed pitifully onto the pillow. He leans over the tub, his arms crossed under his chin, and his eyes on you. “My luck isn’t usually so bad, you know?”

You pat the floor beside you, your hand meeting the cold tile. “Come on, sit beside me,” you comment, shuffling over a few inches to give him even more space. With a huff, he rises out of the tub, small bits of crumbs falling onto the porcelain. He sits beside you, his arm brushing against yours but neither of you make an effort to move.

“I’m sitting, now what?” He asks, the television blurry as it replays his death with the words “Game Over” in bold letters.

“Well, Levi-” you hand him the bag, with fingers pinched over the handles- “since you’re having such rotten luck, why don’t you open the bag?”

He gives you a narrowed stare, slowly retrieving the bag from you and pulling out the pastel colored tissue paper. At the bottom of the bag sits a box, the words of a favorite anime of his stamped beside with the usual font. His heart skips a beat, as he slowly clasps his hand around the box, his fingers pushing against the plastic and he gaps, reality crashing onto him like a wave.

“It’s-” he doesn’t even finish saying the sentence, your nod is an answer to everything. “The figure that I wanted- I- How?” He asks, looking at the box, so worried that if he were to take his eyes away, the box would vanish.

“Ah, ah-” you wag your finger in the air- “that is a story for another time, my dear Leviathan.” You sound so smug and a smile is already evident in your words.

He bounces in his seat, his legs shaking rapidly, knees softly knocking against each other as he lets his excitement show. His hands flap eagerly, his smile wide and eyes closed. A sharp breath is sucked between his teeth, as he stares at you with bright eyes. You’re startled, your shoulders raising a few centimeters into the air with wide eyes as you stare at him. A nervous smile stretches across your face with him so close to you and looking at you with such eager eyes. If you were to be honest with yourself, you’re a bit flustered with how he looks at you. Your heart races and it beats against your chest, rattling at your ribs and echoing against your body. You nod rapidly, gulping what little moisture you have in your mouth when he grabs your hands tightly in him.

He shouts your name, enthusiasm laced into his word, his hands pulling yours close to his chest. “Ah! You’re the absolute best!” His smile is so wide that it’s almost comical, leaving you smiling both in response to and because of him. “I’m so glad that you’re here! Of course, you’d be my Henry!” He drops your hands and pulls you in for a hug, squeezing tightly around you, his head nuzzled into the curve of your neck. “I don’t know what I would do without you, but I’m just glad that you’re the one that’s with me!” He pulls away, his hands now holding onto your biceps. Deep breaths exhale through him, his chest rising and dipping rhythmically. He calls your name and it’s sweet like honey on his tongue. “You really are the best. I mean,” his tone becomes softer, his smile less eager and more true, “you do so much for me. I couldn't ever imagine my life without you. You mean so much to me.”

“Levi,” you mumble, and when his hands fall from you and return to hold the box, you pull the bag towards your face, hiding away from him. Your neck grows hot, scorching your skin and making you breathless. “I’m glad that you like it,” you manage to squeak out, the bag further pressed towards you.

A few seconds pass until he finally realizes why you’ve pulled the bag to your face. Leviathan stiffens, clearing his throat and turning away, his hand covering his lower half of the face. The figurine sits beside him with a delicate smile plastered on their face. With the air so light and heavy, he reached into the tub, eager to pull out the controller. With a meek cough, he fumbles with the controller, passing it over to you, with his eyes still glued on the figurine. “Would you like a turn? Maybe you’re better than me.” He can feel his chest tighten when his fingertips brush against yours and the hundredth time, the game tune plays in the room.

Satan:

Satan’s eyes narrow unconsciously as he reads over the same page for the tenth time. No matter what, he is unable to focus on the words, the letters and lines meshing into one that nothing fully registers past the first word of the page. If he were to be honest with himself, nothing has registered since the last few pages that he’s read. With a huff, he closes the book, a small gust of air blowing at the hair that rests over his forehead. The book rests on the table beside him, nudging against the lamp that makes the room flicker for a brief moment.

The room is filled with sound, the hum of the air conditioner unit, the distant sounds of footsteps and talk across the house, the demonic animals that roam around outside. He’s sure that if he were to focus, he’d even hear the scratching of a pen. Scratch that- he can now that he thought about it. All the sounds make his skin crawl, uncomfortable and itchy and as he drags his nails across his arm, he’s only offered a second of relief before the feeling returns. He leans against the chair, his neck arched over the back of it, as he lets his eyes flutter to a close, the bright light of the library barely shining through his closed eyelids. It’s not like to be so distracted- especially when it comes to a favorite pastime of his. And yet, his mind is distracted, wandering to images of you where you were talking to others that weren’t him. He isn’t the jealous type- at least, not when he compares himself to his brother, but it seems that you brought out something different for him.

His leg twitches and there’s a burning sensation on his arm that he chooses to ignore. It only intensifies when he hears footsteps approaching. The sensation spreads and becomes sharper, insatiable as it burrows itself in the demon. There is a presence standing beside him and he already knows that it’s you. He can tell by the steps, by the breathing, by your scent. He frowns at the thought. He doesn’t know if it’s romantic or not to know such small details about you.

Something clicks- your knee, perhaps- and your hand rests above his slender one, cupping and still, there are gaps where his skin is unfortunate enough to not to be touched by you. “Satan?” You call out to him in a quiet voice- not quite a whisper but not your usual volume either. “Are you asleep?”

“Is it you wondering or someone else?” He responds, slowly opening his eyes and turning his head, meeting the top of yours. “Is there something that you need?” He makes no effort to move, stuck in his position as he is content just sitting on a chair with your hand over his.

“It’s me,” you answer him, turning your head to meet his eyes. His lips slowly turn into a smile with his eyes slowly growing heavy. “You don’t normally sleep in the library without cause. You okay?” Your hand slips from his and his eyes widen his hand closing into a fist, already missing your touch. But, he is soon reconnected with your hand as it rests on his forehead. You soon look down at him with pursed lips. “I- uh, I can’t tell if you have a fever or not.”

He smiles at you and sits up straight, holding in a moan when his back is already sore, feeling the muscles whine as they had already grown taut. “No- No I just, I have quite a few things on my mind, is all.” He gingerly goes to grab your hand in his, uncaring that your eyes are on him and that the door is open for anyone to walk in and see Wrath so tender. “I’m sorry that I worried you.”

Your hand in his is turned, pulled slightly away but not enough to be taken away from his grasp. You walk from the side of the chair to stand in front of him, and when you meet his eyes, you nod down, gesturing to his lap. He smiles softly, nodding his head and leaning back, humming under his breath when you situate yourself on his lap, your head resting on his shoulder.

“You’re oddly touchy today,” he comments, his hand curved on your lap as the one he held is moved to behind his neck, your fingertips barely touching his collarbone. “Did I do something to deserve this?”

You give a half-hearted hum, and in the corner of his eye, he can tell that you have closed your eyes. “Think of it as a way to make you feel better.” You give him a play tap and he nods, his eyes staring straight ahead, lost against the colorful spines of the books. “So what does have you so worked up?”

Is now his chance? Is he now able to tell you the full extent of his feelings? He has you sitting on his lap, comforting him in a way that few people would ever dare to. There's feelings there, bubbling and forming on both ends and he knows that it’s both ends. It’s you that is on his mind. Filtering in when you shouldn’t, invading every space of his that he has until he���s completely overwhelmed. It’s a strong feeling, something that rivals his own wrath and for the first time, he welcomes it- he doesn’t put up a fight against it. He wants to feel whatever it is that you make him feel. He wants the intensity of it until he’s exhausted, until the wrath that has been boiling inside of him ever since he can remember, can finally evaporate, can finally be extinguished.

You call his name once more and he looks at you, his smile tight and eyes closed for a moment. “How do I tell you that I care for you in a way that says exactly what I’m trying to say without scaring you off?” His eyes close and his hand turns over on your thigh, palm open and empty. “How do I tell you that you’re the thing on my mind? That it’s you that is reducing me into a mess at the simple thought of you.” He turns his head enough, shrugging his shoulder to make sure that you’re looking back at him, your chest still and the hand that you had relaxed, is slowly crawling over to his open one. “The thought of you warps into this- this jealous demon that isn’t exactly something I’m fond of. I you to myself and yet, that I want you to myself and that the thought of you with anyone else, makes me more of wrath than I have ever been.” Your hand closes above his and he nods slowly, clasping his hand over yours. “It’s you, and it’ll always be you.”

With a jolt, his words finally register to him. He turns to face you, but you’re buried into his shoulder, your hand holding tightly onto his, as if he were your lifeline and the one over his shoulder is grasping at his sweater, bunching the knit fabric into a mess. Your heart beats over the sound of the room, the hum of the electricity erased, the steps and chatter muffled under you. He smiles softly, a slow chuckle taking over, until he’s laughing widely, his chest shaking and vibrating under you with every laugh. You moan his name and he can only say the first letters of an apology before his laughter takes over.

“Really, really- I’m not laughing at you,” he says through an attempt at laughter. “I just forgot how different you are. How you always seem to change depending on your mood.” He feels a harsh pat against him, your head shaking as you press further into him. “Please, never change,” he says with a laugh at the end, his head turning, his lips meeting against the side of yours in a quick press.

Asmodeus:

He’s flawless. He has to be. Or, maybe he’s just naturally like that. You are not the best when it comes to reading Asmodeus- too enthralled by him that you can’t seemingly tell when he’s told a joke or not that pertains to his beauty. Very little of it matters to you- you may appreciate that he is quite gorgeous, but you’ve also gotten to know the demon that embodies Lust.

Perhaps it’s because he knows who he is, that he is Lust, that he has to appear the best at all times. He can never make a mistake or it’ll be all that’s talked about- he knows as well as anyone else how easily a reputation can be damaged. However, when he looks at you, he doesn’t have to worry about that. He still wants to look his best for you, but he knows that if he were to slip, you wouldn’t see him any differently than how others see him.

You sleep beside him, nestled under his covers, the blanket pulled a little bit past your lips. Your hair is askew, small strands that stick up or curl around your face. Slowly, he takes a slender finger and softens the hair back to you, smiling when you try to lean into his touch. Your eyes flutter open, and you turn before he can see you, yawning and stretching your arms upwards, the cover crumpling above you. You lie still for a few more seconds and he sits upwards, daring to peek at your face. As if already knowing that he was going to watch you, you run a hand through your hair in an attempt to make yourself look more refined, to fix your appearance before him. You rub your eyes with a knuckle, turning to him and opening your mouth only to have a yawn cut through.

“Did you have a good nap?” Asmodeus asks, watching as you stretch your limbs, your muscles pulled taut as you let out a whine of satisfaction. You nod in response to him. “I’m glad. You know, I do have to tell you that you were right. I try not to ruin my sleep schedule but that nap felt simply divine. I think I feel more rested than I usually do.”

You smile at him, turning over to rest your head on his chest. His hand immediately comes to curve over the back of your head. “I like sleeping with you. You have such a soft bed and you always give such nice hugs.” He laughs in response, his hand lowering to hold near your shoulder. “It’s true. Devildom is still-” you take a brief pause- “different. And somehow, when I’m with you, all my worries are just-” you blow out a gentle puff of air- “gone.”

“I’m here for whenever you need me. All you have to do is just call,” he comments, his hand running past the sleeve of your shirt, his index and middle fingers touching against your warm skin. “I think it’s almost time for dinner. Would you like to accompany me? I’d be more than happy to take you to that little restaurant we found the other day.”

The edge of your sleeve is toyed with, pinched between the fingers and released. His hand returns to where it lay only to be disturbed when you rise, causing his hand to rest beside him. You give him a blinding smile that makes his heart flutter as he looks at you. “I’d be more than happy to, but I would like to get ready before we go out.” He raises a brow at you, tilting his head to encourage you to continue. “I want to look my best for you.” You lean forward and he smiles, fully ready for a kiss, only to have you pull away and kiss his shoulder. He frowns, his lips pushing towards a pout as he looks at you.

“Not even a kiss?” He asks, a tease of playfulness loosely attached to his words. “I have to say that I’m hurt.” He watches as you move, curling your legs underneath you as you watch him with a hint of smile on your face. “After all that I do for you, and yet, you have the gall to deny me a simple kiss?” he lets out a huff, not trying to hide the smile that graces his features and you. “You should be ashamed of yourself. There are demons who would kiss my steps to even look at me.”

“Asmo,” you call to him and he quiets, looking at you with expectant eyes. Despite him being the demon who can be considered one of the strongest- and is- you’re still the one who holds all the power in the relationship. He nods, encouraging you to continue. “Why do you want to go out with me?”

He can’t help the smile that forms, that twists the already playful one into something more bitter. It’s a question that he asked himself the first time he realized his feelings towards you. He could have it all and you’re just a human with minimal magical abilities. He’s met countless lifeforms who were and are beautiful, their beauty forever imprinted and never seeming to age. But, he still chooses you. And he’s content with that. He’s more than happy that he’s with you.

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, his eyes focused on your cupid’s bow. “You know, there are times when I look at you and I wonder if you see yourself the way that I see you.” He knows what to say, it all comes so natural to him when he compliments you. “Your scars and blemishes, the stretch marks around your tummy and how they pale and wrap around you. The little moles that you have are kissed along your sides and cheeks.” His thumb moves down and now his hand holds yours. “I have to be perfect- I have to be loved and admired, but then I see you and I think to myself how as long as I’m loved by you, that’s enough. You really have changed me in a way I never saw myself. Beauty means everything to me- or at least it did. But now I have you, and I have to admit, that I prefer you over anything else in the world.” He leans forward and lets his lips press against the corners of yours. “I want to go out with you, because to me, you’re the best that there will ever be.”

It all happens in a flash, seeing your face darken, feeling the hand slowly shake and then your face is hidden by the covers. He can hear you whine his name, and when his hand touches between your shoulder blades, his nimble fingers reaching above the collar of your shirt and touching your neck, he can feel how hot it is. He laughs as his arms reach around you and pull you close to him, giggling and accepting your odd human behavior.

Beelzebub:

Detention is quiet, save for the ticking of the clock, but other than that it’s silent. The room is occupied by a total of three people- you, Beelzebub, and the unfortunate professor that is stuck to watch over the two of you who scrolls through their D.D.D. while music plays loudly every now and then. You suspect they are on an app similar to one from the Human Realm, complete with word play and aesthetic from Devildom.

You turn over to Beelzebub, quirking your brows when you see him scribbling over a paper with a pen. You peer over, sitting straighter to get a closer look only to find him mindlessly doodling, similar drawings cover the paper in blue ink. As if feeling your stare, he turns to you with slightly wide eyes before relaxing them, sending you a smile and raising his paper, to show you his work. You return the smile, pleased at his cute antics and his boyish smile. You send him a thumbs up, before the professor coughs, catching the attention from the two of you.

They stand up, their tail curling around their leg and with a yawn, they expose their teeth. Their phone is stuffed into their pocket as they slowly walk to the front of the desk. “I’ll be back. I expect the two of you to still be here. You both have an hour left.” With that, they walk to the door, the heels of their shoes clicking, the door creaking before it finally closes leaving you and Beelzebub alone in a room.

Immediately, you turn to Beelzebub, your chair squeaking as you shift it hastily. “Beel,” you say excitedly, patting your hands on your thighs. He answers with a hum, tilting his head to the side to show that he is listening to you. “You have power over the professors, don't you?” You see the corner of his lip twitch upwards. “I mean you're the Avatar of Gluttony, can’t you just get us both out of here?”

The pen is set down and he leans back on his chair, his legs sliding underneath the desk until they are stretched to their full length. He turns to you, his smile lazy and eyes half-lidded. “I don’t feel like getting in trouble anymore than I already have.” His smile is crooked, teeth barely glimpsing from behind his lips.

“But we’re already in trouble,” you try to argue, pushing forward. “Please?” You lean forward, holding onto his bicep, with a pout on your lips. “If I use the pact powers, I’ll probably be the only one in trouble.”

He snickers, crossing his arms and lowering his head to side his smile. “We have an hour.” He looks up at you, a hand coming to cover yours. “Just sit and wait, okay? I’ll treat you out later.” You stick your tongue out at him and he laughs, pulling away from your touch and turning his own chair to face you, his hand resting over the desk, pulling on the tip of the pen until it is pulled underneath his hand. “What makes you want to go home so early anyways?”

“Why don’t you wanna go home?” You shoot back, your arm bent above the desk, with your chin resting on the palm of your hand. He shrugs in response, his attention back to the paper as he starts to bounce the pen between his index finger and thumb. “What are you drawing, anyways?” it doesn’t go unnoticed that he stiffens at your question, his lips pulling into a thin line as his leg starts to bounce. “It’s the same image, right? Like the same character that you’re drawing?” You lean closer, watching as he bounces the pen faster in his hand.

“It’s- It’s for art class,” he responds, clearing his throat. His hands grab at the paper and for a moment you think he’s about to crumble the paper, but instead he slips it between a notebook, careful to not let an edge slip out before it’s stuffed into his bag. “We have to draw-” he hesitates, squirming under your attention- “a thing.”

“I thought sports took care of your electives?” He sucks in a breath through his teeth, turning his attention to the board smeared with chalky remains. “Oh? Are you lying to me?” Your hand flutters to your heart, your voice faux hurt as your slump over in your seat. “Beelzebub, I’m actually hurt. Here I thought we were close and yet-”

“I’m drawing you,” he says, effectively making you stop in your theatrics. You turn to him, your mouth parted. “I wanted to draw you and give it to you as a gift but I can’t get your smile right.”

“Well that didn’t take much probing,” you mutter, scooting your chair closer to him, the toe of your shoe nudging against his backpack.

“I don’t like lying to you,” he states, his body becoming still and eyes returning to where you sit so close to him. Close enough where he can smell your cream. “I just didn’t want you to find out.”

There’s silence between the both of you, your lips pursed as you nod. “My smile?” He nods. “It should be simple, shouldn’t it?” Just a curve and some smaller curves for the lips and boom, you’re done.” You grab his backpack, holding it in your hands, the opening pointed towards him.

“No,” he says with a frown, pulling the same notebook out and slipping out the paper. Upon closer inspection, the images of what appears to be you are roughly scribbled. They aren’t the best but the thought of him drawing something for you and being nervous about you finding out makes the drawing much sweeter. “You have a nice smile. It’s like- like,” you look up at him to see his brows furrowed. “I don’t know how to explain it. Your smile is nice. It’s a lot more than nice. When you smile at me, it’s just nice. I like seeing you happy. You smiling at me makes me feel special and I don’t want to half-ass some drawing of you. I want to make it special because you’re special to me. Your smile makes me feel warm, like I’m being hugged and everytime you smile, it always reaches your eyes and when your eyes crinkle, it’s like you’re just looking at me and that makes me feel so-” he takes a deep sigh and releases it slowly- “so safe.” His words come to a soft close, his face a warm shade of red. He lets out a nervous chuckle. “That sounds dumb, doesn’t it?” When he looks at you, you’ve curled into a ball in your seat, your face buried into his backpack. He calls your name frantically, his hands on your shoulders, only to pull away when you let out a high-pitched whine. “Did I offend you?” His name is muffled between the fabric. “Yeah?”

“You’re really sweet,” you moan pitifully, clutching the bag tighter, hoping that it effectively hides your burning face. “I think I’ll actually die from what you just said.” Your heart beats in your chest, the sweet confession echoing in your ears and when you smile, you can only hide it, not wanting him to see the wide grin that is now plastered across your face. “I’ll take any drawing that you give me.” You hold your hand out, ready to receive the unfinished work, not yet lifting your head.

His hand covers your outstretched one. “Maybe if I can see your smile right now, I’d be able to get it right,” he teases slightly. Your only response is shaking your head, giggling through the fabric as you feebly try to shake his hand away. He laughs widely, holding your hand tighter as he urges for you to look upward at him.

Belphegor:

The room is quiet, no footsteps that echo from above, no noise that travels from the stairs into the room that was once Belphegor’s prison. Beside him, you lay curled on your side, resting against him, your hand playing with a drawstring of his hoodie, playing with the frayed ends at your fingertips.

“I thought being around you would make me sleepy,” you murmur, an ill-placed yawn ruining the validity of your statement.

Even where he lays, he knows that you’re pouting, with your brows knitted together. “It seems that I am already making you quite tired. You only lasted how long?” He’d make a show of checking his nonexistent watch, but he rather not, already too comfortable in his current position to risk moving. You blow a raspberry in response and he lets out a giggle, his hand that is placed underneath you is bent to hold a strand of your hair in between his fingers. “Come on, be nice now. I can also make you unbelievably tired but unable to sleep.”

“You’re so cruel Belphegor,” you say in a whisper, your hand finally still from playing with his drawstring. “You’d take away my sleep for a simple noise? How juvenile,” you tease, nuzzling further into his side, humming when his fingers part through your hair and scratch lightly at your scalp. “Here I am, whisked away from my homework to come and nap beside you. And what do I get in return? Teasing.” The last word slowly drifted off into a simple breath of air that was tickled against his side.

It really hadn’t taken you so long to fall under his own sleeping spell. A part of him is a bit bitter, wanting to spend more time with you where the both of you were conscious and could actually talk, while the other part of him, is simply glad that you’re resting beside him, that you’ve taken time out of your day to lay next to him.

“It’s not like you don’t deserve it,” he says through a smile, twisting your hair around his index. “I mean, out of all the reactions I can get, yours is possibly the best of them.”

“Thank you,” you say, sounding a bit more like a question. “You know, I’m glad that you invited me up here. I haven't been getting the best sleep as of late.”

“You can always come to me,” he’s quick to say, eager so evident in his voice that he’s drowning in it. He wants to be near you, he wants to be with you.

“I don't want to bother you,” you confess with a faint voice.

“You could never bother me.” It’s the truth. He’d crawl to you if it meant even a fraction of your attention would be given to him. He’d do what he could just to hear your voice. You’d never be a bother to him. You’d be his saving grace. It’s silent for a moment, one where he can hear the house come alive under him and feel your breath with even more vigor than before, feeling each and every pause, every gust of air a kiss against his skin that makes him yearn for more. He calls your name, and it’s thick on his tongue- foreign and light, and yet it sounds like he’s said it countless times before, as if he knew the name by heart. You hum in response and he takes a deep breath.

His finger twirls around a small piece of your hair, letting the hair curl around his finger before he releases it, only to do the same thing once more. “I’m always surprised that you let me get so close,” he says in a quiet voice, careful to not ruin the moment but a part of him knows that it might have been ruined already when it alludes to him. He can feel your eyes on him, watching him carefully as your lips part. “I know that I’m not exactly a knight in shining armor or anything and uh-” he lets the strad of your hair go, watching it bounce in freedom- “I just want you to know that I appreciate that you even let me touch you. I really like you, you know? I think you’re a much better person than I’ll ever be.” His lips stretch into a bittersweet smile that soon falls into a frown, twisting his features into something more somber. You say his name and it makes his breath hitch, a hiccup in his throat as his name fills the momentary silence. “I mean it. I think that’s why I- why you mean so much to me. I could never be like you. I can only admire you from afar and want you for myself.” He lets out a breathless puff of air that has humor etched into it. “I just wanted you to know that you mean a lot more to me than I’ll ever be able to put into words.”

With every continuation of his words, you felt your body respond to him. Your stomach twists with butterflies causing a storm inside of you, your chest tight and the sweet relief of air has escaped your lungs, and you’re hot, heat flush against your face and creeping from your chest and upward. You wonder if he could hear every change in your breathing, in your heart that beats, in just you.

He looks at you through half closed eyes and for once, you don’t think that it’s sleep that’s causing his soft smile and tender eyes. You stiffen, your muscles going rigid under his stare. The pillow is cool under your face as you stay hidden from him, gripping at the edges and turning away from his gaze, unable to keep as tight face as a smile creeps across your face.

He laughs as you lower your head, hiding your face from his after the tender words that were shared. “Come on, was it that easy to make you flustered?” He teases, the bed dipping as he moves. His hand tugs on the pillow that is held tightly in your grasp. “Oh come on, just look up,” he whines, weakly tugging at the pillow. “Seriously, you’re so dramatic and for no reason. It shouldn’t be news to you that I like you.” His smile is clear in his voice, light and full of kittenish behavior. “If you don’t pay attention to me, I’m going to continue, you know.” His grin widens when you finally peek at him, and he can’t help but laugh.

Diavolo:

There is chatter in the room, accompanied by the heels of shoes that click against the tiled floor. The room is lit in an orange glow that makes the atmosphere of the room seem almost dream-like. You tug wine glass, pulling it closer to you, careful to not let a drop spill over and stain the pristine white tablecloth. You glance around the room, watching people chat amongst themselves, their own eyes glued to their partners.

You look at the prince before you who takes a sip from his glass, his tongue peeking to wipe at the taste on his lips. “Diavolo?” The glass is set down and he looks at you with slightly widened eyes. “When I said I wanted to go out for dinner, I was fine with just some Akudonalds or ya know-” you glance once more around the room, your gaze focused on the silverware set carefully in front of you- “anything.

“This is anything,” he says, his smile cool and hands resting above the table. “We hardly go out and when we do, the others tend to accompany us. While I enjoy their company, I’d also like to just enjoy yours. So I thought, since this is a rare occasion, we’d make the best of it.” He leans close to you, and you know that there is no malice or hidden intention with him. He is honest, able to tell you what he wants without finding it necessary to hide himself. “If you are uncomfortable with such a restaurant, we can always go somewhere else, next time.”

“It’s not that, it’s just-” you clear your throat, leaning against the table, lowering your voice- “I’ve never been to such a high-end place. I don’t want you to overspend because of me. I’m fine just going somewhere low-key.”

He laughs, shaking his head and his fingers drum against the table. I’m a prince. There’s no such thing as overspending and even if there were, I don’t mind it if it’s you that I’m doting on.” You nod slowly, your fingers running at the edge of the fork handle. “Really, there is no need to worry. I’m just happy that you agreed to join me on this outing.”

You do your best to not shake your legs, mindful of the wine beside you. “‘M glad I was able to join you as well. I- I like spending time with you.” You smile sweetly at him, a hint of nerves tracing against your smile. “I just have to admit that I was taken aback when you invited me out. I know you mentioned how it’s always us with the others, but I don’t know-” you fingers find themselves tracing around the base of the glass- “I guess I always figured you liked me because I was able to get you out of work since you know, I am part of your work. I never would have assumed that you actually wanted to spend time with me.”

For a moment, it’s silent, a brief moment that couldn't even be considered silent, just a short pause but it's enough for him. “May I admit something to you?” Diavolo asks, his hands fiddling with the napkin beside himself. You nod, leaning forward, urging him to continue. “I was always fascinated with humans. I loved humans- they were these beings who had free will and they all lived different lives but in the end they shared the same fate.” He chuckles softly and his hand goes to the stem of the wine glass. “It’s the same for demons, of course. Any life can be taken and for the most part, they have free will, but I think I love humans. Or at least I thought I did.” He looks up at you, his smile faltering for a moment as he struggles to keep it up. “But I think rather than love, I hold admiration for their humanity. For their tenacity, and kindness; their love and warmth that they have with each other. And when I look at you-” his hand leaves the glass and is left open towards you- “I’m reminded of how beautiful humans can be.” His smile turns bitter for a moment, falling and he makes no attempt to keep up the facade. “I’m reminded just how fragile they are. I need you to know that I admire humanity, but I think I love you. I love how you do your best to help those around you, how you adapt to your environment, and just how easily you can make others fall for you.” He lets out a short laugh through his nose. “If I have to be honest, I think I’m also jealous of you. I wish I were the only one who could have the opportunity to fall for you.” His hand is still held out towards you, vacant without yours.

Throughout his monologue your body has been on fire, pooling in your stomach and against your back. You stare at his empty hand, trying to will yourself to hold it but the most that you can do is lay your head on the table, silverware clicking together and a dull thud heard. You want to let out a whine but you’re sure you’ve already called attention to yourself and- oh dear. What will people think of when they see Lord Diavolo with a human who has planted their face against a table. Your thoughts race, clouding your mind as the silence in the room is deafening, echoing in your ears as you rest with your face down.

“Is this a human custom?” Diavolo asks, his voice full of genuine wonderment. “Should I also be doing it?”

“Dia,” you mumble, your body slowly squeezing against itself in order to make yourself smaller. “You can’t confess so nonchalant,” you say in a hushed whisper, wanting to let out any type of noise that is slowly building up inside of you. “It’s- It’s too much for me,” you whine, slowly raising your head to peer at him.

“Well, I am a prince- a demon one at that. I suppose you can say that there are different customs for us as well.” His smile is jovial, and he reaches across the table, his hand open and this time you take it. Unable to look him in the eye, you resort to watching as his hand slowly threads to intertwine himself with you. “I must say, if that’s the response I were to get, I might as well continue it. I rather liked whatever it was that you did.” He’s so honest, looking at you with a wide grin that shows his pointed teeth and you can’t help but bury your face once more, grinning when you hear him let out a small laugh, his hand closing around yours.

[robobarbie]

hi, thank you for being on here and answering our silly little asks hehe! for the angst hour, i am so sorry in advance if this breaks any rules on this blog but i was wondering which LIs AND ONION would accept to have a purely physical, fwb relationship with someone they are in love with bc they can at least have a part of that person, and who would just walk away because maintaining a relationship like that would hurt them too much?

LETSGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Every time you leave, Nightowl lays on his bed for what feels like hours, unable to fall asleep. He can still smell you on the pillows around him, and he closes his eyes and pictures you next to him. Imagines that you actually wanted to sleep over and let him cook you breakfast in the morning

That dream never comes true. You always leave. You're always firm on the boundaries set. "You're allowed to see other people, Nightowl. You know I am."

He throws an arm over his eyes and grits his teeth. I know you are. I really, really am very aware of that fact. Of course he never says that to you. He just smiles and nods. Says he's looking but hasn't found anyone yet.

There's only you. There's only ever going to be you.

When sleep does finally come, it's full of dreams of you slipping from him and falling into the arms of people who aren't him. He can't look away as he sees you do everything you did with him to someone else. And you look happier doing it.

When he wakes up on mornings after you've visited, it's always to a tear-stained pillow that no longer smells like you. And then the waiting game begins again for you to contact him first.

This is okay. This is what he wanted, right?

Your offer to Xyx is met with a laugh. And here he was, about to pour his heart out to you.

He rejects you on the spot. "No thanks, doll." You ask for a reason why out of curiosity and he gives you some half-thought out answer that he forgets immediately after saying it.

But you accept it. Of course you do. You trust him so, so much. Your pretty eyes look a little sad when he gathers his keys and he clenches his jaw.

"You're sure, right?" he asks. At your confused expression, he continues, "That you just want fwb, right? That's what you want?"

"Yes...?"

He knows that will only make his life a living hell if he accepted that. He smiles, nods, and walks away.

When he starts up his bike, he can't help but look back at the bar. There you are, still at the counter, twirling your straw in your drink forlornly. Wearing that stupidly beautiful outfit.

He looks away and drives off.

Quest... accepts the arrangement. It's perfect for his insecurity that you'd run if you get too close. You don't get close enough for that to be a risk, so... perfect.

What he didn't anticipate though was how much he wanted to be closer. After the sixth time you visited, after you'd been chatting for months, he almost slipped out that forbidden three letter phrase. It was surprising even to himself.

You'd told him very firmly and repeatedly you were not going to pursue anything romantic with him, though. He curses himself for not fighting you on that on that time. Damn it.

Every time you step out of the shower, or laugh, or brush your hands through your hair in that way you do when you're thinking too hard, he takes a mental photograph. Tucks it away in his vault of perfect memories of you.

Because, someday this has to end. Someday you'll find someone who fits you, who you won't be embarrassed to walk around with.

And he already knows it won't ever be him.

So, until that day, he'll save as many memories as he can. Hold you as tight as allowed. Just until then.

Toasty doesn't accept. He immediately rejects it. He's not one for casual hookups -- he's not sure he has enough confidence in himself anyway for that lifestyle.

He's happy that you look at little sad, but also depressed that you don't look sad enough. Another reminder that he wants someone more than they want him. This is why it's better to not say anything.

He offers to drive you home from the dinner and is relieved when you decline. You have something to do afterwards.

When you finally leave the restaurant and he's left alone at the table, he orders their most expensive dessert and a small glass of wine.

That.. sucked. But he's been through worse. Time to cheer himself up a bit.

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

Onionthief declines. He's only sleeping with partners that want to be serious.

Oh, you only want to sleep with him? You can't picture yourself dating him. Okay, fine. Time to move on.

He mentally adds you to the long string of failed dates he's had and starts packing his dreams back into their boxes.

Maybe next time.