#Wooden casserole

[sinsandsweetness]

across the hall - part 2 (Frank Castle x fem!reader)

part 1

cw- eventual smut, 18+ , nothing crazy<3

notes- definitely placed in the beginning of season 1. I know he goes by a different name at that time but… I don’t really care lol. I have no clue where this is going but it’s all my fingers will type today so I’m rolling with it. lmk what we think:)

Frank opened the door in plaid pyjama pants and a grey tee. Rubbing at his eye with his palm and leaning up against the doorway.

“Hey,” he seems a little surprised. Like no one has ever knocked on his door before. “You lose your keys again?”

You’re momentarily distracted by the stretched fabric across his body. Muscles in his arms bulging and flexing involuntarily as he crosses them against his chest.

“Oh, um, no I just- uh, I wanted to say thank you, for the other night. You didn’t have to do that and … yeah just, um, I made you this.” You bring attention to the casserole dish in your hands. “Just as a little thank you.”

He wants to smile but for whatever reason he bites it back. Nodding slightly and shrugging his shoulders. “Was just bein’ a good neighbour.”

“Yeah, but I mean, you didn’t have to. It was just really nice and I, um, I appreciated it. A lot.” You shift on your feet. Glancing down at your bunny slippers and pyjama pants.

“What is it?” Frank opens the door even more, nodding to the dish. He’s inviting you in. Not verbally. But he backs into his apartment and expects you to follow.

“Uh, lasagna. Hope you like it.” You step in and he closes the door behind you. “It’s still needs to go in the oven. A half hour?” You suggest, handing it to him.

He turns the oven on and places the tinfoil covered dish inside. Turning around and looking you up and down. You figure you weren’t supposed to notice that.

With his gaze on you, you find yourself suddenly a little self conscious of your pjs. White top, probably a little see through though you didn’t want to check. Faded pink striped pyjama pants and those fucking slippers. Why couldn’t you have just slipped on some flip flops. Anything else.

“Kinda late for dinner, no?” He cracks a smile to let you know that he’s not being rude. Just making conversation, acknowledging both of your attire.

“Well you work late, right? I mean at least it seems like it… I don’t know when you get off work or anything-“ you’re rambling. You do know when he gets off. Almost every weekday at 8 pm you hear his door unlock. It’s sticky, catching on the wooden frame. That’s how you know. It’s louder than anyone else’s in the hall. And, most of the time, you get home from college at the same time. Running into him in the elevator and walking alongside him to the two of your doors. At least on the days you decide to study.

Frank nods. Leaning up against the counter. A little smirk visible in the dim lit apartment.

“You want somethin’ to drink?”

“Oh, no I’m ok. I should get back to bed anyway.” You stutter, motioning towards the door.

“You’re gonna make me eat this whole lasagna all alone?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out.

“Stay. Have a beer. Or water. I have water. Wine? Think I got some wine somewhere in here,” Frank is already in the fridge, pulling out a couple bottles of beer. Same as the other night.

“Beer’s good.” You finally answer.

“Here. Take a seat.” He hands You the bottle and pulls one of the stools at the island out for you.

You sit there and wait for the timer on the oven to go off. He asks you what you do. What you’re studying in school. How you like it. You ask him about work. What he does, how he likes it. Typical small talk, only this time you’re here on purpose. Not out of necessity.

When the timer goes off he makes you up a plate. Sitting next to you at the island, you eat with him. You’re not very hungry, seeing as you’d already eaten dinner. But you didn’t really want to leave. Not after his comment about eating alone. That pulled at a heart string.

“So…” you try to come up with more conversation. An empty plate and a fork in front of you both. Only a few sips left in your beer. “You live alone?”

He nods. Taking a swig of his beer.

“Oh. So you don’t… have a girlfriend or anything?”

He doesn’t know wether he should smile. Instead he just shakes his head. No girlfriend. Ok. You don’t want to admit it but you’re glad he said no. Even though you don’t know him very well, you feel drawn to the man. Big and burley and quiet. Handsome of course. And something else that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“You uh,” he swallows, “you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” you huff a little laugh. Though it’s not very funny.

“So your buddy from the elevator…?”

“Oh no. That’s- he’s just my roommate. He’s got a girlfriend. Several actually,” you laugh awkwardly and wish you could smack your forehead.

“Lady killer, huh?” He cracks a smile.

“Somethin’ like that. Definitely thinks he is,” you smile back and take a few more swigs of beer. Not really feeling a buzz but definitely more relaxed. You don’t know why you’re always so anxious around Frank. He’s much more kind than the energy he puts off in the hall.

Two more beers and a few awfully raunchy roommate stories later and you find yourself back on his couch. Laughing so hard your stomach hurts. your slippers are kicked off and across the room. You’re sitting there, criss cross applesauce beside him and demonstrating the size of a hot pink dildo that your freshman year roommate forgot to take out of the shower. Frank is laughing and covering his face with a palm. Like he’s actually embarrassed for the girl. But you’re both a little tipsy so it really doesn’t matter.

“So what, you’ve never been the bad roommate?” He asks. His hand so close to your knee it’s burning hot.

“I mean…” you bite your lip. Trying not to smile and give yourself away.

“Ok. So you have. How?” He nudges your leg with his own. Urging you on.

“I have not!” You laugh. Trying to uphold your dignity.

“I’m callin’ bullshit. Pretty girl like you? No way you don’t have a few skeletons in that closet.” His hand is on your knee now. Undeniably there. Resting. Squeezing.

You blush. You can’t help the way your face heats up. He called you pretty. And he’s touching you.

You swallow, “I- I’ve had a couple of hookups that, maybe weren’t exactly the quietest. Or… safest.” You try to keep it brief. Hoping he’ll let it be at that.

“Safest?”

“Well… there was a bathtub incident, where he, um, broke his foot. And a… well a bed frame incident as well…” you’re face is burning. You can’t believe you’re admitting this to your neighbour. One that you definitely wouldn’t mind seeing shirtless again. One that you’ve been picturing in your bed for a much longer time than you’d care to admit.

“Hmm,” He hums a little laugh but he doesn’t bother asking for any explanation.

“What?” You ask. Nervous of the answer.

“Nothin’,”

“No, you were about to say something, go on.”

“I don’t know. You just didn’t strike me as that kind of girl. Always carrying all those books around. Seemed like the kinda girl who goes to school and to church and that’s it. Just… I don’t know. You surprise me.”

“I’m full of surprises, Frank. I think we both are.”

He nods. You have no idea.

“Besides, I don’t even go to church,” you finish off your bottle with one last sip. Placing on the floor beside the couch leg.

“No?”

“Why did you think that?” You ask.

“You’re up at 8 every Sunday. Dressed all nice. Figured that’s where you go.”

He notices you every Sunday. How does he notice?

“I meet a friend….for brunch. Been sort of a ritual since school started,” you explain, “how do you- how do you know that?”

“Hm?”

“How do you know that i’m up at 8 on sundays?”

“I see you, walking down to the corner of the street,” He points to the window. “Hear your keys in your hand as you leave the hallway. And I know about 4 minutes later, I’ll see you on the sidewalk. Going towards the lights.”

“So you’re spying on me?” You tease. Smiling like an idiot. He notices you! Frank notices you and he has for weeks. All while you’ve been trying to muster up the courage to talk to him in the elevator or the hall. He’s been doing the same thing.

“It’s not spyin’ if it’s general knowledge. Anyone can see you leavin’ the building.” He defends himself but you know he’s smiling.

“Yeah but you’re obviously the only one who notices.” You sit up straighter. Suddenly feeling really close to his face. Looking into those deep brown eyes.

“Trust me when I say, I’m definitely not the only guy who notices you.” His eyes keep darting away. Like he’s afraid of you seeing into them. Seeing into him.

You bite your lip. Not knowing what to say. It’s a compliment, though you’ve never been very great at taking those.

“Hey, Frank?” You ask, redirecting his attention back to your eyes. Your voice is quiet. Shy. “Would you wanna go for brunch sometime?”

“I got a better idea. Stay the night, and I’ll make you breakfast this time. How’s that sound?” His hand on your leg is squeezing you gently. And his words are pulling you even closer.

“I’d like that,” you breath out, nose almost touching his. Hand coming up to the side of his face, “I’d like that a lot.”

You press your lips to his and your suddenly thankful for all the beers he gave you. Feeling a hundred times more courageous than you typically do.

His hands are wrapping around your waist on no time. Pulling you around to straddle his lap. To kiss him and feel him underneath you. Hands roaming his broad shoulders and down his chest. His own hands dragging under the thin material of your long sleeve, sending pinpricks down your arms from the touch.

Your tongues taste of beer as they trace over each others lips. Muffled moans threaten to creep up your throat as you feel him grow hard underneath you. Grinding against his bulge, only the thin fabric of your pyjamas between you.

He picks you up by the backs of your thighs. Lifting you and him both to maneuver you around. He wants you underneath him. Your back hits the leather couch and his forearms frame your face. Coming back down to meet your lips again, you reach for his shirt, pulling on the hem. He lets you lift it over his head. Your own shirt quickly after. Pants being tugged down all rushed and inpatient before you find yourself inviting him in between your legs. Heels wrapped around the small of his back and your nails dig into his shoulder blades while he enters you slowly. Giving you a minute to adjust to his size.

His kisses are hungry. Warm and, somehow, already familiar. His beard tickles your jaw but you can’t complain. It feels too good. Him. Inside of you. Hands wrapped around your waist and pulling you closer as he fucks you. The sofa is creaking with every thrust but he doesn’t seem to care. Whispering sweet nothing in your ear. You can barely hear them you’re so high. Intoxicated by the taste of him. The feel of him. Nothing is going through your mind except him and how fucking good he feels.

“Frank, I’m- oh god I’m getting close,” you let him know with your lips brushing his neck the whole time. You want to kiss every inch of him. Every spot you can reach. He doesn’t mind. Going even faster at your announcement. Determined to get you there before him, because at your words, he’s trying so fucking hard not to finish in your tight, warm heat right here and now.

You press your forehead to his collarbone, fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck. Pulling and tugging and silently telling him that you’re there. Your breath hitches and he feels you convulse around him. Your orgasm takes over and a warm, euphoric wave spreads throughout your core. Frank pulls out and hot, white ropes coat your lower belly. His own face pressed into your neck. A shiver of pleasure runs through his spine.

You catch your breath in his hold. Gripping his arm and the back of his neck. Trying to pull him back for one last kiss.

He obliges, pressing his lips to yours and leaning back, forcing you to follow and sit up with him.

“Sorry, I- you can shower. I’ll go get it started.” He days between kisses. But you shake your head.

“It’s fine.”

“No I shouldn’t of-”

“I liked it.”

He nods. Eyes closing and melting back into your kiss. Hands still refusing to leave your body. Feeling and memorizing every soft curve of your waist. Your hips. Your ribs and the dip in your spine.

“Can I stay? Can we- can you-“ you take a deep breath, “will tou take me to your bed, Frank. Please?” You ask and he feels his cock twitch. Fuck. He can’t say no. He doesn’t want to say no. He wants to fuck you in his bed until the sun rises. He wants to tell you to stay every damn night for the rest of your life. To move on in and give him a damn kid. He knew he was hooked from the first kiss. Screwed really. There’s nothing he can do except see it through. Ride it out and let the universe do the rest.

Before you know it your legs are wrapped around his waist and he’s carrying you through the apartment, lips on his the whole way to the room. His foot must have tapped your empty bottle, knocking it over to roll along the floor, clinking against the linoleum.

Distracted by eachother, you don’t seem to notice, and he doesn’t seem to care.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Warnings: mild angssstt reader pronouns: she/her

Daryl finally caved to the insistent knocking and went to the door. He pulled it open to reveal Carol standing on the front stop looking incredibly pissed off. She didn't ask to come in, just barged in past him, a foil-covered dish in hand.

Daryl watched in silence as she went down the hall and into the kitchen. He shut the door and followed.

Carol set the dish down on the counter with a heavy clack. "I made you a casserole," she said.

Daryl glanced at it and then back up to her face. "I ain't hungry."

"I don't give a shit," she snapped. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Daryl's eyes narrowed and then he ducked his head, opting to stare down at his boots, the wooden slats on the floor, the dust in the corner—anywhere but at her fury. "What?"

"You know what!" she exclaimed.

Daryl gulped. "Is she okay?" he asked hesitantly, referring to you.

Carol crossed her arms and shook her head. "Physically? She's fine. She's staying with Aaron for a while. But she's fucking miserable and obviously you are too. So, what the hell, Daryl? What are you doing?"

He still couldn't meet her eyes. "I did her a favor. I dun think I deserve to get yelled at for—"

"A favor? You think that's what you did?" She scoffed and threw her hands up. "You didn't do her a favor! You made yourself leave her because you didn't want her to leave you! You weren't being noble, you were being selfish! You were trying to spare yourself the pain! How is that working out for you?"

It wasn't. Daryl felt so sick to his stomach, roiling with anxiety, that he hadn't eaten in days. He missed everything about you. His heart seemed to have vanished completely from his chest and the hole it left behind was so raw and painful he couldn't sleep, couldn't think, nothing... Carol paced closer to him and lowered her voice. "She wasn't ever going to leave you, Daryl. Anyone could see that. An idiot could see that. And now you've gone and done this... You better figure out how to fix it, and fast, before it's too late."

Prompt: "You made yourself leave her because you didn't want her to leave you! You weren't being noble, you were being selfish! You were trying to spare yourself the pain!" A/N: Ooooh, love me some tough love from Carol! Get it together, Dixon!

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 8: Golden Hour

From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series

Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader

Summary: The sun sets on Bucky’s last week of the deal to work on your farm

Word count: 2,138

Content/warnings: kissing, cuddling, shaky voices aka holding back crying and emotions, avoiding a sensitive topic, drinking, pet name usage

Author’s Note: Although this chapter is kinda sad, I think it’s sweet to see how much they care for each other. You can really tell neither is looking forward to the separation but they’re both too stubborn to say something about it.

This is a shorter chapter, too, but I hope you enjoy! I’d love to hear your feedback!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Bucky stayed on the phone with Andy for the better part of an hour to make sure he had all of the information. According to Barber, since the cow was given to you ‘in good faith,’ legally, you could keep it without being considered as in debt to Cole. That was a relief, and throughout the weekend, Bucky was being…well, Bucky. His normal controlling self, or at least as much as he could be while still under your roof.

All you wanted to do was enjoy your midday snack on Sunday afternoon before heading back out to do some minor maintenance work when he gave you an update.

“I’ve already gotten Jensen to set up an appointment with a vet who can scan it for chips or any nefarious devices to make sure we’re not being tracked or listened to.”

You stoped midway through biting your granola bar, gesturing with it out to the side of your house where the cow had been staying in surprise.

“Jensen? My ex, Jensen? You’re really working together? I thought you hated him. Fixing the cave wasn’t a one-and-done?”

Bucky shrugged as he looked through your cabinets for something to satisfy his cravings, already half-tired from starting to repair a shed with you and finding schematics for a porch swing. “Well, I technically do hate him, and it’s more like he’s working for me than us working together, but I saw how he’d give up anything to help you, and someone with that quality is worth keeping around.”

He finally settled on a cheese stick and a couple crackers before turning to face you. “Plus, the fact that somehow you don’t hate him helps a little, but I’m still gonna keep him in check.”

You smiled and nodded, throwing away your wrapper and going for another sip out of your water bottle. “Hm, I see. I hope that new training you sent him through will prove useful for the future. Seal his loose lips right up.”

Bucky stopped mid-chew, afraid to look at the knowing smirk on your face. You really were too perceptive for his own good. “Um, yeah. Be a shame to waste it on someone we don’t plan on using. Now hurry up and finish that water bottle. Gotta make sure you’ve got enough energy to finish the repairs on that shed this afternoon so your little cow has a place to lay her head outside. Plus, Curtis is coming over later to help me with a surprise and I’ve gotta make sure I’m ready for him.”

“I wouldn’t be worried about my energy, cowboy. Hope you can keep up.” And with a wink, you polished off your water and walked toward the door to slip on your boots and get back to work.

After a mostly restful weekend, you woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on Monday morning, the last of the month, the last of- no. You didn’t want to think about that. Instead, you took this early hour as a chance to be productive before you had to get Bucky up. A chance to fill your mind with anything but that thought. You figured you’d get a jump on gathering the eggs. You had time to make a breakfast casserole, that could be good. And then do the crossword from yesterday you hadn’t touched? And maybe read? Really, anything to keep occupied before you had to face the music.

Before you knew it, the oven beeped to signal the end of the casserole’s bake time. You pulled it out and slipped off your oven mitts, running on the cool wooden floors in your socked feet to the staircase and going up to Bucky’s room.

You lightly knocked on the door and cracked it open to see a lump tangled up in the old comforter. As you slowly crept forward over the creaky floor, you could just barely make out the rise and fall of his body. You hated to wake him as he looked so peaceful, but it was time for work, and sleeping in any longer would just postpone the inevitable and waste your valuable time together.

You took a seat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his shoulder gently. “Jamie, rise and shine. Time to get going.”

He groaned and rolled over, squinting at you through the one eye he could pry open.

“Hmmmm. Honey, didn’t I earn an extra five minutes? I’ve been so good and done all the shit you’ve asked of me lately.”

You let out a breathy laugh at his gruff morning voice as he reached out for you, throwing his arms around your hips and shuffling to place his head in your lap. You stroked his hair, basking in the early morning moment.

“Watch your tongue, but yes, you did, and I gave it to you fifteen minutes ago, so get up and ready for the day.”

Bucky grumbled lowly against your jean-clad thigh. “Fuck off, Steve.”

You remained silent until he turned his head up to look at yours at the lack of response. Bucky’s tired eyes were met by your firm warning glance, causing him to backtrack immediately.

“Um, sorry, I, uh… I meant of course, honey, excited to start my ….” His voice began to shake. You could’ve finished the sentence for him. You knew what he was going to say. His last week on the farm. But you didn’t. You didn’t finish his sentence because you didn’t want to hear it either. You simply patted his head and nodded, your eyes slightly more watery than before. You tried to play it off as a yawn before gently lifting him from your lap and standing again.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” Your attempt at a snarky reply came out as a whisper, caught somewhere in your throat, where you attempted to clear it out before starting again. “Breakfast is already cooked, just cooling right now. I’ll go ahead and serve it up. I hope you’re dressed and ready, downstairs before it gets too cold.”

By the time Bucky had the chance to process your words and demeanor and nod, you had already turned around and headed back downstairs.

Besides the successful vet appointment, the rest of the days of the week were quite similar to the way Monday went, although Bucky kept getting up earlier, and pushing you to stay up later, not wanting to waste a single second with you.

The farm work went smoothly, much faster than you had recalled your first weeks with Bucky being, considering he couldn’t do a single thing without you by his side back then. The two of you still worked alongside each other, but now it made everything go twice as fast instead of creating roadblocks.

The fields were getting long enough to make hay bales, so you officially got to take Bucky up into the big green tractor and show him the way to properly weave and maneuver through the fields to cut it, turn it, and bale it. You didn’t miss the way he smirked when you told him the piece of equipment you’d be using for the job. That song, ‘Big Green Tractor,’ had played several times in the bar and it didn’t take too long for Bucky to catch on to the innuendo, but he didn’t do anything about it…yet.

For some of the other tasks, Peter came along, too, learning how everything worked. He caught on quickly, which was reassuring because you weren’t sure how things were going to be without Bucky by your side in the coming weeks. The increased speed on everything helped you to finish up earlier than usual, too, giving you most of the night for just relaxing with the two of them. Well, mainly Bucky, since Peter stayed out of the way when he could. You’d had enough time to hang out for a couple hours before dinner, then finish up the evening checks and milkings, and then go back to decompress before bed.

That gave plenty of time for you to go do something with Bucky, just the two of you outside of chores, outside of his scheduled phone calls, to just be. And then each night, after you changed into pajamas, Bucky crawled into your bed with you, his arms wrapped you in a tight embrace, holding lazy, yet deep conversation until the first one between the two of you fell asleep.

This new arrangement with no signs of Bucky returning to his old quarters allowed Peter move into the house. Sure, it may not have been that exact room in favor of one of the other guest rooms, but you insisted that now that the rest of the crew had finished up their work in the mines, there was no sense in him staying alone in the barndiminium. Especially if he was to be here for the foreseeable future.

Another night, another chance for you and Bucky to enjoy the sunset out in the rocking chairs, facing west. Except, Bucky wasn’t the biggest fan of any sort of seating with armrests that might block your closeness, so the two of you sat pressed up against each other on the front porch swing, the surprise for you that Curtis had come over to help Bucky build earlier in the week.

You weren’t all alone in these moments, though. Sure, all the people around you knew to stay away and give the two of you privacy in these times, but it was different for the farm animals. As you leaned back against Bucky’s chest, his arms around your waist and head tucked over your shoulder, satisfied yet worried thoughts filling your heads, the two of you would laugh as the sheep and cattle dogs would run up to you, accompanied by the mini highland cow that you’d decided to let Decks name the next time she visited.

The week had flown by already, full of nights like this, the two of you sitting in the glow of the golden hour that Bucky would surely miss in the city, sharing kisses and everything you could think of.

The air was just cool enough on Friday night when the sun went down to make a bonfire. Cherry had the night off for once, so Curtis had brought her over for a small picnic in one of the fields before joining the two of you by the fire.

You and Bucky had made an ice bucket of beer for the occasion, sipping lightly throughout the easy conversation, your back to his chest as his was against a log, the both of you sitting on an old quilt. Curtis and Cherry were doing the same as you got to know the girl who seemed to be stealing his heart.

“So Houston, huh? How do you feel about here?” Bucky gestured across the fire to her with his bottle.

“Yeah, kind of glad to be out of there, though. Have some time to take it slow away from the city, ya know? What about you? You’re not from around here either, right?”

You did your best to hide your wince at Cherry’s response. Sure, she was just being nice and holding genuine conversation. You couldn’t blame her for not knowing the way you and Bucky were trying to ignore any topics that even came close to his departure or what he was doing here in the first place.

Bucky was much better at hiding his true emotions, though, a product of his livelihood. “Yeah, city life has been good to me. Doesn’t mean I don’t love it out here just as much, though. I think I’ve gained a whole new perspective on this place and the people just from a month.” He gave a small smile with his response which Cherry returned with a nod before Bucky leaned forward to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“I feel that. I kind of already feel at home. But you’re not sticking around, right? Curtis told me this was one of your last nights in town.”

There it was. She said it out loud, creating a pang of pain in both your and Bucky’s chests. He cleared his throat, throwing a quick glance at his stoic pal across the fire, and Curtis seemed completely unbothered. Perhaps he wasn’t aware of how much you and Bucky cared for each other. And maybe he was right for that. As soon as Bucky left, he had to go back to his normal, busy schedule that poor Steve had been maintaining this whole time, and then some. Bucky wouldn’t have space in his schedule to come back here or worry about you for anything but business, right?

You let out a shaky breath as Bucky rubbed his hand along your side, responding just barely loud enough to overtake the crackling fire. “Yeah.”

Next >

Bonus A/N: when things heat up to be pulled apart…I’m sure there a scientific term for that (entropy?)

Series Taglist: @scuzmunkie @openup-yourmind @vicmc624 @hawkeyes-queen @blackhawkfanatic @morgthemagpie @buckybarnessimpp @calwitch @thesarcasmqueen-22 @mrsnikstan

[songbirdseung]

you flew right by, love / park sunghoon

synopsis: the only love you've ever known, says goodbye

pairing: sunghoon x reader

warnings: heartbreak, death, grief, angst, sorry in advance, i cried too

wc: 1.3k

The sky is a heavy gray, the kind that promises rain but never quite delivers, leaving the air thick and suffocating. You stand amidst a sea of black, the color of mourning, as the world seems to have lost its vibrancy. The sun is absent, hidden behind the oppressive clouds, as if it, too, is in mourning.

You find yourself at the edge of the crowd, your feet rooted to the ground, unable to move. The smell of damp earth fills your nostrils as you grip the single white lily in your hand, its petals trembling with the same grief that shakes your core. Each step you take towards the casket feels like walking through quicksand, pulling you further into despair.

As you reach the casket, you pause, looking down at Sunghoon's peaceful face. His eyes are closed, a stark contrast to the lively spark you had come to love. Tears blur your vision, spilling over and tracing silent paths down your cheeks. You wonder, what if it were you instead? What if you could trade places and lie in that wooden box, so he could continue living?

"I'd give anything to be in there instead of you," you whisper, your voice breaking. The lily slips from your fingers, landing softly on the polished wood.

A flashback hits you with the force of a tidal wave, pulling you back to a time when Sunghoon's arms wrapped around you on the couch, his warmth seeping into your bones. You can almost hear his laughter, feel the vibration of his chest as he speaks.

"I want to grow old with you," he had said, his voice a soothing melody. "We'll have a little house with a garden, and maybe a dog. We'll sit on the porch and watch the sunset every evening."

You had snuggled closer, your heart swelling with love and the promise of forever. "I can't wait for that," you had replied, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. "Growing old with you sounds perfect."

The memory fades, and you're jolted back to the present, to the harsh reality of the funeral. The first clumps of dirt hit the casket with a dull thud, and you turn away, unable to bear the sound. It feels like each impact is driving a nail deeper into your heart. People around you try to offer comfort—soft words, gentle touches—but it all feels distant, unreal. All you can think about is the life stolen from you, the future that will never be.

"Why did you have to leave?" you mutter under your breath, anger and sorrow intertwining. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

Another flashback overtakes you, a moment of pure happiness. You and Sunghoon are at the beach, the sun setting behind you, casting everything in a golden glow. He's chasing you through the surf, laughter bubbling up from both of you as the waves lap at your ankles. When he catches you, he lifts you up and spins you around, his joy infectious.

"Gotcha!" he exclaims, pulling you close for a kiss. "I love you more than anything, YN."

"I love you too, Sunghoon," you had replied, your heart bursting with happiness. "Forever and always."

The memory is like a dagger, a reminder of what you've lost. The sound of dirt hitting the casket continues, a cruel punctuation to your pain. You close your eyes, wishing you could hold onto those memories forever, wishing you could bring Sunghoon back, if only for a moment.

As the funeral comes to a close, you feel a hollow emptiness settle in your chest. The crowd begins to disperse, but you remain by the grave, your heart unwilling to let go. You take a deep breath, trying to summon the strength to move forward, knowing that Sunghoon would want you to find a way to live, even without him.

But for now, all you can do is grieve, and remember the love that was taken too soon.

The days that follow are a blur, filled with an endless parade of condolences and casseroles. Your apartment feels emptier than ever, every corner haunted by memories of Sunghoon. His things are everywhere—his favorite mug on the kitchen counter, the book he was reading on the nightstand, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air. Each object is a reminder of the life you were supposed to share.

You find yourself retreating into your mind, clinging to memories like a lifeline. It's in one of these moments, late at night, when you find yourself on the couch, clutching a pillow to your chest. The silence is deafening, and you close your eyes, willing a memory to take you away from the pain.

A new flashback emerges, vivid and clear. You're in your kitchen, and Sunghoon is attempting to cook dinner. He's wearing an apron that reads "Kiss the Cook," and you can't help but laugh at how serious he looks, concentrating on the recipe in front of him.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" you tease, leaning against the counter.

He looks up with a mock-offended expression. "Of course I do! I'm a master chef in disguise."

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "Oh really? Prove it."

With a playful grin, he steps closer, pulling you into his arms. "How about I start with dessert?" he murmurs, before kissing you deeply.

The memory brings a bittersweet smile to your lips, but it's quickly overshadowed by the crushing reality of his absence. You open your eyes, the darkness of your apartment pressing in on you. The weight of your grief feels unbearable, a constant ache that doesn't seem to lessen.

One evening, unable to stand the quiet any longer, you decide to visit a nearby park, a place where you and Sunghoon spent many happy afternoons. The park is almost empty, the chill of the evening keeping most people indoors. You find the bench where you used to sit together, overlooking a small pond.

As you sit there, staring at the water, you hear footsteps approaching. You turn to see an elderly woman with kind eyes and a gentle smile. She sits down beside you, not saying a word for a long time. Finally, she speaks.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" she says softly.

You nod, unable to find your voice.

"I lost my husband many years ago," she continues, her voice filled with a quiet strength. "The pain never really goes away, but you learn to carry it. You find ways to honor their memory and keep them alive in your heart."

Her words resonate with you, and for the first time in days, you feel a small spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you can find a way to live with the pain. To remember Sunghoon not with overwhelming sorrow, but with the love and joy he brought into your life.

As the days turn into weeks, you begin to take small steps forward. You start journaling, writing letters to Sunghoon, pouring out your thoughts and feelings onto the pages. It becomes a way to feel connected to him, to keep his memory alive. You also reach out to friends and family, allowing them to support you, to share their own memories of Sunghoon.

One day, as you're sorting through Sunghoon's things, you come across a small, wrapped package with your name on it. Your hands tremble as you open it, revealing a beautiful locket inside. There's a note in Sunghoon's handwriting:

"YN, I saw this and thought of you. I hope it brings you as much joy as you bring me every day. Love, Sunghoon."

Tears stream down your face as you clasp the locket around your neck, feeling a sense of peace for the first time in a long while. Sunghoon's love is still with you, a guiding light in the darkness.

As you move forward, you hold onto the memories, the love, and the lessons Sunghoon taught you. Life without him is not what you had planned, but you find strength in knowing that he will always be a part of you, living on in your heart and in the life you continue to build.

[parissimmer-s4]

Austin - 10 poses (7 couple - 2 group - 1 single)

Instructions :

- Place 2, 3 or 4 teleporters wherever you want or in the middle of a bed for pose 3, middle of a counter for pose 4, 9 and 10. Also for pose 10, you need to place the teleporters right in front of the counter.

- You need the iPhone 12 by @redheadsims-cc / dog biscuit by @beto-ae0 / casserole and wooden spoon by @storybooksimblr (download the merged file to get them all) / electric toothbrush by @simtographies / roll with dough by @mel-bennett

- I also used this cooking book for pose 4 but you can use with other standing cooking books.

- Optional : No Infant Rug

T.O.U. :

- Don’t edit, reupload, post behind paywall or claim as your own.

DOWNLOAD HERE

Thank you all cc and mod creators !

@ts4-poses​ @sssvitlanz​

[elisela]

an introvert's guide to falling in love on thanksgiving derek x stiles, g, fluff, thanksgiving, 1.6k for @nerdy-stilinski ... just barely getting this up in time haha

.

It’s not that Derek doesn’t like being charitable; it’s that Derek doesn’t like people. What he does like is cooking, which is why, every Thanksgiving morning since high school, he’s found a reason to make himself useful in the kitchen and just …. not leave.

All day. 

Slowly, throughout college and grad school, he was put in charge of more and more of the meal, until the only thing he wasn’t responsible for was the appetizers his mother set out early and kept refreshing throughout the day. He has his timeline down to a science at this point, though the menu has evolved over the years to keep up with the guests his mother invites and the new additions always necessitate some last-minute juggling. He starts with the soups a full week in advance; butternut squash and split pea, made in huge proportions and kept frozen until the night before. Same with the gravy, though he’ll add in drippings for extra flavor just before it’s served. He preps the casseroles the day before and lets them sit until the morning, bakes at least half a dozen pies, and usually goes to bed the night before already exhausted for what’s to come.

But as tiring as it all is, he’ll gladly do it when the alternative is mixing with a bunch of college students he doesn’t know, all of whom don’t have another place to go for the holidays. The kitchen, at least, is his refuge.

A refuge that’s invaded far too quickly the next morning.

He hears the humming first; he’s been able to tune out most of the conversations since he was a teenager, though the more repetitive and annoying noises tend to break through occasionally. And while the humming is definitely repetitive, it doesn’t alarm him until it gets closer, closer, and abruptly turns into a low whistle at the threshold of the kitchen. 

Derek grits his teeth and reminds himself that while charity is important to his mother, genuine kindness is more so, and she won’t hesitate to voice any disappointment.

“Does the cooking or the clean-up take longer?” a voice asks, followed shortly by footsteps.

“Not sure,” Derek says, wincing when the potato peeler slips and cuts into his finger. He flips the water on with his wrist, hopefully hiding the blood from sight until his skin knits itself back together seconds later. “My sisters are in charge of cleaning.”

There’s laughter from behind him, and the sound of the wooden spoon he’d been using to brown the butter as it clinks against the pot. “So it doesn’t matter much to you is what I’m getting out of that.”

Derek feels his lips quirk up, despite his reluctance to have his space invaded. “If there’s a single clean dish in this kitchen at the end of the day I’ve failed.” This time, when he hears laughter, he turns around to look at the source of it and almost immediately wishes he hadn’t. If there’s anything that makes Derek a little weak in the knees, it’s pale skin and big, dark eyes, and he looks away before he can take the man in fully and find even more appealing details.

“Need any help getting dirtying them up?” the guy asks. Derek’s about to decline—politely, of course, or God help him if his mother overhears—but then he adds, “Because to be honest it’s kind of awkward being out there, I’m pretty sure everyone knows each other? There are groups, at least, and I was supposed to come with my buddy because we decided it was a Christmas-only trip home this year, only his girlfriend invited him to Tahoe literally this morning and he didn’t tell me until I got here and it also felt awkward to leave, so …”

Derek starts peeling the potatoes again and tells himself to stay strong, but he can feel his resolve crumbling. “I don’t really need much help,” he says; a weak protest, but still true. He does so much of the prep ahead of time that it’s really just managing the timing of it all. The disappointment that radiates from the man is so palpable that Derek caves almost immediately. “But you can cube the potatoes, if you’d like.”

“Yeah, anything,” he hears, and then, “I’m Stiles, by the way.”

Stiles … doesn’t shut up. He talks as he cuts the potatoes in a way that makes Derek think he’s going to lose a finger by the end of the night, an abbreviated life story that gives just enough details to get Derek interested in hearing more. But for every small fact about himself he gives out he asks at least three questions of Derek, everything from his middle name to the first flavor of ice cream he’d ever considered his favorite, and Derek finds himself talking much more than he does to anyone he’s ever met. He doesn’t even realize he’s answering the questions until suddenly they’re knee-deep in an argument over the relative merits of the Wildcat formation and he realizes he’s ignored the timer on the oven going off for a solid two minutes while he details his very short college football career.

“So how’d you get stuck with all the cooking?” Stiles asks hours later, just as Derek’s pulling the turkey out of the oven to rest. He’s holding a casserole dish in his hands and although his body is still, he also seems to be vibrating with energy. “I’m just assuming this isn’t the first time because you seem to have everything under control, whereas I would have probably burned the turkey to get it to cook faster and forgotten like, the rolls or something.”

Derek pauses, still holding on to the roasting pan with both hands. The words send a jolt of adrenaline through him—not the good type, not the type that comes with elation or something equally serotonin-boosting—but dread, and a mild sense of panic.

He couldn’t have forgotten the rolls. He gets the frozen type, bags and bags of them, because once they defrost and rise they only take a few minutes to bake. It’s the last thing he does every year; he takes the casseroles out of the oven and puts four cookie sheets worth of rolls in, and by the time they’re done everything else is on the table. 

“I forgot the rolls,” he says, letting go of the roasting pan and twisting to look at the island, where the shelf he typically keeps the cookie sheets on is depressingly empty. His heart feels like it’s sinking, even though he knows at the same time that there’s plenty of food and it’s not such a big deal. “I forgot to take them out.”

The oven door closes, pulling him out of his head, and Stiles taps at the buttons to set the timer. “I can grab them. Where are they?”

“In the freezer,” Derek says, probably too short, because Stiles raises an eyebrow in response. “Fuck, I never took them out. They take hours to rise, it’s too late. Shit.” 

“So we go without,” Stiles says, shrugging. “If anyone complains, kick them out.” 

He can’t keep himself from frowning. It’s such a simple, little thing, and he tends to get stuck on those at times and the unsettled feeling in his chest can stick around for hours. But then Stiles moves into his line of sight and reaches out, hand closing around his shoulder. “You’re cute when you’re upset,” he says, and grins even though a faint blush appears on his cheeks. “It’s not rolls, but I can make biscuits pretty quick if you’ve got flour and extra butter.”

Some of the pressure lifts off his chest. “Flour’s in the pantry,” he says, and Stiles nods once and turns around, further discussion not needed. Derek still needs to assemble the salads, but he takes a moment to find a clean mixing bowl and the pastry cutter so Stiles can get to work. It takes longer than the rolls would have, but everything is still hot when they come out of the oven, and he can’t even bring himself to care that his sisters will definitely make fun of him for messing up when Stiles breaks off a piece of a biscuit and holds it out for Derek to try.

They’re simple, but good—but even better is the way that Stiles kisses him back when Derek pulls him in, a little overwhelmed by the way the day turned out so differently than he had expected, but grateful.

“Thanks for that,” he says, quietly, when they part, gesturing to the basket Stiles had just piled all the biscuits into. “And everything else.”

“Thanks for letting me hide in here all day,” Stiles says with a grin. “Do you have to stick around for a while after dinner, or can I convince you to get late-night ice cream with me?”

“I could be convinced,” Derek says, picking up the last of the casserole dishes to bring to the table, “but I could also just forget to bring out that cherry pie you’ve been looking at all day and we could keep hiding.”

“Hiding’s good,” Stiles says quickly. “Hiding is great, let’s do that. Just not in here where I assume your sisters will be cursing our names as they clean, so—my place isn’t that far, if you wanna just … hide there. Instead. With the pie. You know, we could always get ice cream to go with the pie, that’s probably the best decision. Do people do a la mode with cherry pie?”

Derek shakes his head and grins, and uses his elbow to urge Stiles in front of him; they’ve only known each other a few hours, but he knows well how easily he can get distracted. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s go get this over with and we can find out.”

[writingchalamet]

History and drama part 2

A/n: I couldn’t help but write a part two because I loved the first one so much…sue me…

Warning: smut, curse words, fluff, angst, ROSS BECAUSE HE IS A WARNING ⚠️

Ross’s doorbell rings Friday night 8pm sharp and he can’t contain his excitement as he rushes towards the front door. He had styled his hair in his usual low man bun, wearing a soft oversized button down with a pair of slacks, he had made sure to take his time to carefully groom himself making sure he looked presentable for you, even though he could wear a bin bag and you’d still find him hot. He opened the door to see the most beautiful sight he had laid his eyes upon. There you stood, hair pulled up into a ponytail with two strands framing your face, and a silk slip dress with lace detailing, the slit in the side laying perfectly against the plump skin of your thighs. You held a bouquet of flowers in your arms, bright colours bursting out their paper encasing. His heart skipped several beats as he stared at you. “You look beautiful, come in” He opens his door more for you to step inside, taking you in his arms, leaning down to entrap your lips in a breathtaking kiss, you pull apart and smile brightly, handing him the carnation of flowers. “These are for you, my best friend is a florist, so I get to take advantage of her skills” Placing the bundle in his arms gently, he admires them and brings them to his nose to smell. He can tell they were fresh, the sensibility making his lips curl. “No one has ever bought me flowers before, thank you” you smile, enjoying the fact that you would be a first of his for something, even if it was something small.

You follow him through his home into the kitchen where he finds a vase, telling you how his mother had given it to him in the hopes he would have a girl move in to buy flowers for, and it’s the first time the vase would be used in his home. You laugh, taking in the warming environment of his house, the colours of the walls painted soft muted greens, very calming, he also had lots of books, but unlike your play writes and novels most of his collection were non-fiction and history pieces. You could tell he enjoyed his craft. His house was neat and clean, you can tell it’s not just because of your company, he has always been very pristine, well-groomed hair, nice skin, thought out outfits that were always perfectly ironed. He places the flowers in the vase, careful not to disturb their arrangement. You admire the joy in his eyes as he fluffs them out. “There…” He finishes displaying the flowers, taking the newly filled vase, and placing it on the dining table, where he had placed a few candles, ready for your meal. “It smells amazing in here Ross; I didn’t know you could cook?” you exclaim excitedly, examining the food cooking on the hob. “Well, I did ask you here for dinner so, I must deliver” he smiles watching you trail to the oven your homely instincts already kicking in, you pick up the wooden spoon and stir looking inside the dish nearly fainting at the heavenly sight, if it tasted as good as it looked you would marry the man right here on the spot, Ross comes to stand behind you one hand resting around your waist holding your stomach, your back pressing against his front. The other hand taking the spoon from your hand scooping up some of the sauce bringing it to your lips, you blow on it before taking it into your mouth, moaning at the taste, your head lulling backwards hitting his chest, your eyes roll back into your head, Ross enjoying the moment. “It’s Tuscan chicken casserole, it is ready I’m just waiting for the bread to warm up” you spin in his arms eyes wide, “There’s bread too?! Ross, I think I’m ready to become Mrs Macdonald now” you joke, his eyes crease with laughter, “If I knew all it took to impress you so much was baguette, I would have brought you one long ago” his hand cups your cheek as he leans down and peppers kisses across your face, putting a bright smile on your face.

You ate dinner peacefully, Fleetwood mac playing in the background, the candles lighting the room in a soft glow, your heart was thumping in your chest the entire time, at the thought he had put behind the date, no man had ever made you feel this way. You finished your meal, and you took the plates away insisting on washing up, he protested and joined you at the sink, no matter how much you scorned him. Washing the plates and cooking utensils passing them to him to dry up and put away, you found yourself slipping into the domestic bliss you so craved to share with him. Once the washing up was complete you follow the man into his living room, the music carrying through into the next room, the room was lit by the warm glow of the lamp on his coffee table next to his sofa. He grabbed the pair of you a drink each before settling down on the sofa, His body language open and inviting, you slipped down next to him, tucking your legs underneath themselves, folding yourself into his touch, his fingers play with the ends of your hair while you get yourself comfortable.

“So how was your week, any troubles with Alison?” He smirks at you; you simply roll your eyes taking a sip of your drink. “No thankfully. She just sort of snickers whenever I see her in my lessons, I know she will have told half her year group by now, but I honestly don’t care, it’s more of the same rumours that have been flying around since we first met” you smile and lean into him when he blushes at your last comment. The pair of you had been pining after one another for so long and neither of you don’t know why you haven’t just gone for it. “I just know that Matty and George are gonna have a field day when they hear that we were caught” Ross laughs again, his fingers trailing along your neckline and shoulder as you speak sending chills down your spine. “Kiss me” his words are all the invite you need, your lips crashing into his. You had shared the odd sneaky kiss around school in one another’s offices when no one was looking, but you had longed for his touch properly since last week. He nudges you backwards so you’re lying backwards on the sofa, taking his place in between your legs, holding himself up hovering just above you, your legs wrap themselves around his waist like a koala coiling him closer towards you, he sniggers at your neediness, leaning back down to kiss you. Your lips moving together in perfect sync, his tongue slithered into your mouth earning a gasp from you, fighting a loosing battle for dominance. Ross’s hands grip at your waist, your dress bunching up at your sides as he claws at the fabric to get to your skin. You have come to find that fleshy area joining your hips to your legs was his favourite thing to grab in the entire world. The skin feeling so soft and squashy in his hands. You moan breathlessly as he grinds his hips against your covered entrance. One of your hands move from his shoulder to his hair, pulling it out of his man bun, letting it fall into his face, he moans as you tug the hair at the root roughly, and he gives your hip a spank in response. You pull back and bite your lip looking him dead in the eye, “fuck me, please” no hesitation in your voice this time, compared to your shy disposition the last time. Those are the only words he needs to hear, unclasping his trousers, pulling them along with his boxers down low enough to release him from his prison. You shimmy yourself out of your underwear throwing them somewhere in the living room. He spits in his hand and smooths it across the tip of his dick before burying himself within your walls.

You straggle out a moan of his name as he slams himself back and forth, setting an unmatched pace, you somehow felt him deeper than ever before, your legs clinging to him for dear life, he was hitting a spot that had never been reached before, he took your small hand in his and pressed against your stomach, feeling him hitting the walls inside you knocked the air out of your lungs. “You’re my special girl, you know that right?” You nod and reattach your lips, his hand weaves up your dress and palms your breast, the silk fabric of your dress clinging to your chest with the heat rising between the two of you. You moan into his mouth as he delivers a hard squeeze, a firm thrust following the action. The scene was hot and heavy, unlike the slow romantic time before, this time you both felt a sense of urgency, hardly touching throughout the week had gone to his head and he had to have you, he didn’t care how needy he seemed. “Ross – harder!” Your words muffled into his mouth as he continued to press hot wet kisses to yours. He pulled out, untangling your limbs from around him, flipping you roughly onto your front and raised your arse up to meet his hips, he definitely appreciated the site, and the squeal you let out when he slapped and grabbed at the flesh harshly, without a second to think, he shoved himself back inside of you, the new angle hitting every ridge as his cock slid back in, he gave you two warning thrusts before absolutely annihilating you. You scream and gasp, biting onto your hand in front of you as he continually slams himself in and out, his grunts and moans above you are obscene, he holds onto your hips tightly as he pounds away, your screams only spurring him on more. One of his hands wound themselves into your hair, gripping at the ponytail, pulling back on it harshly so you are now sat up with your back against him, the hand travels around your neck and clasps a hold, choaking you, your head falls back onto his shoulder as he fucks you, your hand joins his, gripping around the wrist and digging your nails into his hand each time he choaks or hits that special spot inside of you. He cranes his neck round to kiss you, swallowing more of your moans, his thrusts become faster and deeper than ever before, he feels you begin to tighten around him, knowing what’s to come, his hand leaves your hip and holds you flush against him, rubbing circles on your clit, your eyes roll into the back of your head out of pleasure and you feel yourself spasming around him, “That’s a good girl, let go for me” he whispers in your ear as he continues to fuck you through another mind blowing orgasm, you swear they will never be the same without him. You feel him throb inside you and soon enough he stills, filling you full of his load, he gives you one final thrust before pulling out, leaving you with the thick and warm juices spilling from inside you, He bites his lip and groans as he watches the mess spill back out of your entrance, the sight enough to make him ready for another round. He turns you around onto your back once more and leaves the room, coming back with a ‘merry Christmas’ tea towel which makes you laugh. He smiles and leans in for a kiss before wiping you clean throwing the tea towel on the floor.

“Well Miss S/n, I think we’ve out done ourselves”

Several weeks had gone by and yourself and Ross had been on many dates. The pair of you enjoying each others company to the fullest, you had managed to squeeze in at least 2 dates a week, as well as not being able to keep your hands off each other when you were alone in one another’s offices. Today was no different, you were just prepping for your year 10 class about to come in when familiar arms incased round your waist and spun you round your studio, you let out a little scream and a giggle until your feet touched the ground again. Spinning in his arms to face the beautiful man, “hello sweetheart” he places a delicate kiss on your lips, arms wrapped snugly around you, hands resting on your bum, “hey, that was a nice surprise, I’ve missed you today” you peck him again and he chuckles, “you saw me two hours ago” and you sigh throwing your head back dramatically “I know but my heart yearns for you!” You both laugh and step away from each others embrace as you hear the warning bell, signally the children will be here any moment. “I have a free period and I was wondering if you would mind if I sit in and watch your lesson, just for fun” your smile only brightens, the thought that he couldn’t be away from you during his free period, even if your attention wasn’t going o be on him made your heart twitch. “Yeah of course, just don’t look at me like I’m a mad woman because we’re studying ‘the metamorphosis’ and Brecht’s physicality, so when I’m hanging upside down pretending to be a beetle please don’t stop fancying me” you stare at him dead in the eyes and search his soul, he only laughs and leans forward placing a peck on your forehead. He takes a seat on the side of the studio and watches as your students pour through the door. Most of them with confused looks as to why a history teacher was sitting in their lesson.

The students put their bags to the side, and come to the centre of the room, “okay class, so you’ve probably already seen that we have a visitor today, Mr Macdonald is a big Metamorphosis fan and wanted to see what you guys have been working on, I’ll give you twenty minutes to get back into your groups from last week and go over the scene you were given, then we will sit and watch each group’s performance okay?” You clap your hands together and the kids all nod back to you, “You are all free to use the boxes, climbing apparatus and matts, just go into the props room to bring them out!” The students all break off into their groups, some going into the props room bringing out the large black boxes and climbing frames to use for their pieces.

You loved seeing your students so enthusiastic about their work, it reminded you of being in school and drama being your favourite lesson. You walk around the studio stopping to help some students when they ask, not noticing the big grin on Ross’s face as he watches you teach. He watches you reassure your kids they are doing a good job, and show them how to use the equipment safely, he loves watching you in your element. You were showing one student that had asked about physical movement during the metamorphosis scene, and Ross watched as you quite literally got on the floor and contorted your body in ways he did know you could, the action making him feel rather ravenous. You stood again and guided the student’s movements unintentionally bending with them out of habit. You see Ross from the corner of your eye cross his leg over and smirk to yourself. After taking another lap around the room and seeing the kids were getting on okay you plop yourself down next to Ross, legs brushing against each other. “Hey” you smile at him. “You’re so good at what you do” the sudden compliment strikes through your heart, you bite your lip to hide the fact that you want to smile ear to ear. “Thank you, I happen to think you’re pretty good too” you nudge his shoulder with your own. “The kids all love you, I’ve never seen students behave so well for a class before, I don’t think I’ve ever heard your raise your voice once at any of your students” you giggle and put your head down “you should see one of my year 8 classes, they’re awful, I’m screaming at them all time, you’re just in the right class, these guys are lovely because they actually want to be here, and there is a group of boys in my year 8 class who know exactly what buttons to push to send me over the edge” you shake your head at the thought of the dreadful class. You hated the students that just came into your lessons to mess around, after you spend so many gruelling hours planning lessons having little to no free time to yourself, they seem to want to come in and make your life miserable. “Hey, these kids are the ones that count right, you got that teaching award last year for a reason, and it’s the students that vote, so you’re clearly doing something right” you smile at the fact that he remembers that you had won. You wanted so badly to kiss him, to touch him, anything but you couldn��t, you had to hold out.

“Okay class, come and sit down and we’ll pick groups to perform, does anyone want to go first?” One groups hands shoot right up, the group of the student who you were helping with the transformation scene, you were excited, you loved watching your students work. The rest of the students came to sit down as the group set up their stage. They performed the scene and the look on Ross’s face was telling enough, these kids were talented and they had you to thank for the extra push. You all clap your hands at the end of the scene and give each student a well done calling up the next group. “They’re all so good, they’re such a credit to you” Ross whispers into your ear as you watch the next few performances. The smile on your face and the proud feeling in your stomach made you live for moments like this. The lesson draws to a close and as the students leave some kids come over to hug you before leaving the studio, thanking you for your help, he sentiment warming Ross heart.

He walks over to you as the last student leaves the studio and wraps his arm around you once more. “That was such a good lesson, I thoroughly enjoyed it, thank you for letting me sit in” you smile turning to kiss the man “you can join in next time” you wink at him, earning a hearty laugh from him at the thought of him jumping around with the students. “Well I have to get back for my last lesson of the day, thank you again for letting me sit in, you did great, I love you” he kisses your lips and the words had left his mouth before he could even comprehend what he was saying. Your jaw practically hit the ground, you stood there astounded unable to speak or stutter even. His eyes went wide as he realised what he had done, his hand scratched the back of his neck as he looked at your shocked and confused face, “I uh- I have to go” he left you there, mouth swinging, heart pounding and eyes glassing over. He loves you.

Ross had been avoiding you since the whole ‘I love you’ ordeal. Whenever you saw him in the staff room he would gather his things and rush off claiming ‘he was busy’ if you went by his office he would say he was ‘needed somewhere’ and it made you want to staple the man to the spot so you could tell him how you really feel. You’re hoping today would be different though, it was Matty’s birthday, and a group of you, Ross included were going out tonight for dinner and drinks to celebrate. You were in your house getting ready for the night deciding on wearing something daring to catch a certain someone’s eyes.

Adam picks you up from your house driving you to the restaurant where you meet the rest of your friends, there was a large table of about 20 of you, Ross already sat down laughing with some co workers, his eyes bulge out of his head as he glanced your way. You walk straight up to Matty leaning down to give him a kiss and hug, his face lit up at your presence asking you to sit down next to him and George. Ross sits opposite from you and gives you an awkward nod. Adam comes to take the vacant seat next to you and you immerse yourself back into conversation with him about your week and jokingly implying you were ready to quit after the day you had, when an English teacher sat next to Ross pipes up, “yeah I heard about the fight between those two sixth formers down the music corridor, apparently it was really bad, well done for breaking it up Y/n!” At the sound of your name and the mention of a fight Ross’s head perked up, he hadn’t heard anything about a fight at work today.

Matty jumps into the conversation “oh my god it was brilliant, the two lads were proper swinging on each other and she just jumped straight in between them, nearly took a hit too! Little pocket rocket!” Matty laughs and you shake your head sipping your drink “yeah no thanks to you lot, all just stood shouting at them from your classroom doors! Someone had to get in there and break them up!” George laughs and throws his head back! “Are you kidding you’ve seen that kid Jack right?! He’s like 6’7 I’m not getting in the way of one of those punches!” Ross sat in his chair anger bubbling up inside him like a volcano, all these people just stood and watched while you willingly threw yourself, over a foot and a half shorter than, someone throwing punches. “And none of you thought to help her?” The anger in Ross’s voice was clear, the smiles dropping from everyone’s faces in an instant. “What if she had gotten hurt, would you have just stood and watched then!?” You watched as he clenched his fist, eyebrows furrowed, clearly angry at Matty and George for not ‘defending your honour’. “I was fine Ross, nothing happened, they calmed down as soon as I split them up” your hand reached across the table and took his hand in your own, it soothed him instantly, feeling your soft skin brush against his. “You two are so wet for each other it’s disgusting” Matty interrupts your moment and you roll your eyes taking your hand away from Ross’s picking up your drink once more. You all eat then move onto a pub, a large number of the group filter out wishing Matty a happy birthday as they leave. Ross still hadn’t spoken to you apart from the scene at the table, but now most the faculty had left, he had less places to hide. You sat with George while Ross and Matty were at the bar with Adam and a couple of friends ordering some drinks, Matty flirting with the barmaid. “What’s going on with you and the history buff then?” George nudges you making you look his way. You let out a sigh before talking “you have to talk to each other to have something going on George “ you allow a shallow laugh to leave your lips. Picking at your nails, George could tell you were upset. “I thought it was going well? You no longer in the honeymoon period?” You just raise your eyebrows and shrug not really knowing how to respond. “He told me he loved me the other day, then ran away and has been avoiding me ever since, every time I walk into a room he storms out” you shake your head at the thought that he didn’t really mean his words. “What that’s massive! I’m sure he does mean it, he’s probably just afraid of what you’re gonna say back” he nudges you once more raising his brows in a quizzical manner. “Well he actually has to talk to me to get his answer, I’m not that scary am I?” You joke. “I dunno… scary enough to jump in between two huge guys almost twice your size having a fight” you laugh, and lean your head on his shoulder. Matty and the others walk over carrying a tray filled with pints and shots… This was going to be fun.

Matty wedged himself next to you, Ross, Adam and the others sitting on the other side of the table, “alright guys, shot time” Matty passes you each two shots from his tray, handing out lime slices and packets of salt, you all get ready do your shots on the count of three, grimacing as the liquor burns your throat. Ross watched your face closely as you took the slice of lime in between your teeth and sucked the juice out, joking with Matty when you both turn to each other with the rind in your mouths. George takes a photo of the two of you and it makes Ross’s heart burn at the sight of Matty pulling you into his lap, arms around your waist and head over your shoulder while you take photos together. Adam pulls a deck of cards out his pocket and suggests a game, Matty instantly voting for strip poker but you had to remind him you were in public, much to his dismay. You settled on shit head each taking turns to lay your cards out, each wanting to be the first to get rid of all your cards. The game went on for a while, George kept stitching Matty up making him pick up, which made you all laugh. Ross had won, and you came a close second which made you smile. You finished your drink and wandered over to the bar to buy another round when you felt an arm around your waist, an unfamiliar arm. You look to your left to see a tall, fairly handsome man stood beside you, he smiles at you “hey I was wondering if I could buy your drink for you?” His arm is unmoving, and even though he seemed nice, he wasn’t your cup of tea. “I’m actually buying a round for me and my friends-” you were cut off by the guy taking his card out of his wallet and placing it on the bar, “please I insist, I’ve been watching you all night, and I had to come say hello” the bartender takes the card and taps it before you can protest, you step back out of his grasp and watch as your drinks are made. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that” you say awkwardly. “Nonsense, any excuse to talk to a beautiful woman, so what brings you here tonight?” You try and be polite but the guy was giving you the creeps, the way his eye-line kept faltering to look at your chest and he kept leaning in close to you each time you made a move backwards. “Uh it’s my friends birthday..” you trail off, waiting as patiently for your drinks as possible so you could get the hell away from this creep, looking rather desperately at the barman, who clearly, wasn’t catching your hint. “So are you single?” Just then the strong familiar arms that feel like home, wrap around your waist and pull you into his chest, your back hitting firmly against him. “No she’s not.” You look up and see a very displeased Ross above you, you wrap your arm around his and give him a squeeze, letting him know you were alright. “Oh sorry man, I uh- I didn’t realise” the man scurried off into the busying crowd and was forgot in a second, you turned in Ross’s arms to look up at his face, leaning up to give him a peck, a meaningful one that held much behind it, your hand stroked his cheek and you smiled at him. “Thank you” he simply nodded his head and leaned back down for another kiss, missing the taste and softening touch of your lips these last few days. “I need to talk to you” you say, eyes boring into his, he looked worried, frightened almost, he opened his mouth to speak when the barman slid over all your drinks on a tray, “there you go miss, enjoy” you just smile muttering a thank you, taking the tray and walking back to the table.

“Here she is…player!! We saw you over there flirting away!” Matty yelling slurring his words, big smile on his chops, “yeah we’ll be grateful, my so called ‘flirting’ just got you lot a free round” you joke putting the tray down, they all cheer and take their drinks off, cheers-ing to you and your ‘flirting technique’ which Ross did not find funny at all. You sat at the edge of the table this time, Ross taking a seat at the head of the table so he was next to you. The animosity had mostly settled but you still had yet to speak properly. “Okay how about a game of truth or dare!” You all groan “Matty, we’re not 15!” You whinge “ahh but it is my birthday!” You all sigh and give in to the birthday boy. A few rounds go by, the group doing stupid dares like downing the dirty pint, Adam was dared to lick the bottom of George’s shoe, Matty had to try and get a free drink from someone in the bar, failing miserably, you had been dared to give the ‘birthday boy’ a lap dance, much to yours and Ross’s dismay. And now it was back to you again. “Truth” you say confidently as George asked the question “okay, tell Ross how you really feel about him” the table goes silent, and everyone has wide eyes looking between you and Ross in anticipation. You give George a look of disbelief before turning and facing Ross fully giving him your attention, you take his hand in yours and lean close to him to give the pair of you some privacy, as if it were at all possible! “Ross, ever since I first met you I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, you make me smile just by walking into the room, I love the way your eyes crinkle every time you smile, and the little freckle you have on your forehead, I love how kind and genuine you are, and caring of others, I have been absolutely enamoured with you since you first said hello to me, I hate it when we’re apart, it makes me feel like I’m missing a limb, I want you all the time, forever… I love you Ross, I’ve been in love with you for ages” you were looking down at your hands towards the end of your unintentionally longwinded speech, not wanting to meet his eyes. His fingers leave yours and touch your chin lightly tilting your head up to meet his eye-line, for just a moment the entire world melted away and it was just the two of you. “You really mean all of that?” His eyes were glassy the finger under your chin was stroking soft comforting strokes, you just nodded and pulled him towards you for a kiss, your lips melting together, you let your fingers travel into his hair out of instinct, he pulls you forwards so you are sitting in his lap and hear the others in uproar at the table. “Woah woah Ross! Put her down!” - “get your tongue out her throat!” - “no one needs to see that!” The boys all chime in together, words crossing over each other. Without pulling away you stick your middle finger up at them behind you. You pull away and smile at Ross, caressing his cheek, fingers moving to smooth over his beard. “I love you” you whisper to him, his hand squeezes your waist “I love you” he leans in to place another peck on your lips, you had never felt so content in your life.

You had gone official with Ross, feeling like one of the teenagers you teach, all lovestruck and doe eyed. It was the end of another week and you were walking up to Ross’s classroom ready to go home, Ross was leading a study group in his classroom, walking round the room occasionally leaning down to help students with their work, you lean on the doorframe watching as the students finish up their work, smiling seeing them so enthralled in their work, you were holding your bag and folders ready for the day to end when Ross noticed you. “Hey come in, we’re nearly finished” he nods for you to come over, you step into the room smiling at the students as some of them look up at you, you walk over to his desk and perch on the edge, Ross surprising you by coming and sitting right next to you. Some students in the very front row eye the two of you as Ross nudges you affectionately and stares at you a little too long. The clock struck 4:30 and Ross dismissed the class, once the last student had left you were in his arms. “I’ve missed you” he peppers kisses across your face and down your neck, you giggle leaning up on your tippy toes to reach his lips, you hum as his hands smooth over your back and cheekily grab a hold of your bum. You pull away from the kiss staring into his eyes seeing that all familiar glimmer in them, “I’ve missed you more, what do you want for dinner tonight?” You step away from him and help collect his things from his desk. “I was just gonna cook something simple like stir fry? Sound good?” He replies, taking your hand in his as you leave his classroom and make your way down the hallway together. “Sounds amazing, your place of mine?” You pass the other history teachers in their office and say goodnight to them wishing them a good weekend. “I don’t care who’s house we go to, as long as I get my dessert afterwards I’m happy” Ross winks at you and tugs you down the corridor a little faster with a newfound spring in your steps. You giggle as he leads the way to his car, seemingly driving in autopilot to your house, which was his new favourite destination. Where you carried out an evening of food, wine, sex and lots of laughter.

[bombiix]

Her.

Boothill. Winter was approaching. tw : angst. 2.7k words. NOT a x reader fic!

Winter approached. Wood had to be chopped, house had to be warm, cold had to be kept outside. It was a routine, a simple one he used to follow every years. His long and thin fingers wrapped around the handle of the axe, the polished metal slashing through the deep pine wood, he was preparing himself for winter. Despite the bright sun up in the sky, sun rays sliding across his body, tanning his skin, he could not allow himself to be late. Sweats dripped along his forehead as warmth weighted on his shoulders, his bare arms felt heavier while they rose in the sky to pierce through the wood as heavily as they felt. Few birds sung their arrival to their family, others sung for food and some flew away as the axe chopped through the wood one more time. Ears up in the sky, tilting towards the man loud enough to disturb nature, horses puffed air in curiosity. Disturbance was a big word as they returned to graze, grinding and chewing grass. Tails swinging in the air to chase flies away, their skin twitching at any contact. Sliding a hand on his forehead, he sighed heavily. While he was the only one able to do this job, it was still a tiring one. The sun didn’t help as he felt crushed under it, any movement becoming an extra effort. But the wood had to be chopped, not only for him, but for her. A man of promises keeps his promises, winter would be warm. He rose his arms up in the sky one more time before throwing them down, the metal crashing in the trunk supporting the log of wood. Although it was a beautiful sight for his wife, it became an agony for him. Listening to his body, he started to pack up the cut wood. He knew the crushing sun wouldn’t last for long, he was used to those abrupt change of climate. He learned and had to adapt himself and his cabin, for him. But also for her. Rubbing his hands together, in loud claps, he sighed. Finally, he finished and he could go back inside and enjoy some free time. Hurriedly, he went in the cabin. He made many promises, many that he certainly forgot, but spending time with her was one he would never forget.

She was there. He couldn’t help but feel relieved. A wolf toy in her hand, she made it play with her owl plush. Raising the wolf front paws in the air, to make him stand on his hind legs, a timid howl would leave her mouth.

“Baby, you wanna call wolves?” He said, as calmly as he could, fearful he would scare her. She turned around quickly, leaving her toys to run into his arms. A bright smile appeared on her round face, a laugh escaping her lips. “Do you think we could?” She lifted her head towards him, hope filling her eyes. He took a second, admiring her face. How barbaric of him it would be, to say no. His lips tilted in a smile, his hands sliding in her soft hair. After all, calling a few wolves in the night in the safety of their cabin wouldn’t cause problems. She never had the chance to hear them yet, it was the moment.

“Sure, don’t fall asleep.” She laughed, quickly responding, “Never!”, loud enough to startle birds around the cabin. As quickly as she answered, she went back to her activities. He observed her for anew second before turning to the small wooden kitchen. The wooded floor creaked under his feet, the sole of his boots scraping along the wood. It was a small kitchen with enough cabinets to store food. Few pans were hanging and casseroles were pilled together, all copper. A basket filled with vegetables, such as carrots, tomatoes, onions; vegetables which came from their garden, rested on the kitchen counter. Putting a casserole filled with water on the plates, he lighted up the gas. He took a knife and sat down onto a chair, which squeaked under his weight. Quietly, he peeled potatoes. The knife cut down the skin, his thumb pressed down on the potato and the skin lifted up as the blade slid under it. The scratching of the blade against the potatoes’ skin felt loud, the skin being peeled off buzzed in his ears. He tilted his head up, silence filling his head.

“Where’s mama?” He asked, her absence becoming deafening to him.

“She went to pick mushrooms, papa.” His little girl responded, looking up at him. He put down the knife a moment, his eyes scrutinizing her. He smiled in response, nodding his head. Mushroom stew might not be the best dish but it was the best he could do. A few potatoes, herbs, fresh mushrooms and the dish would be exquisite. He didn’t have the culinary standards of a star chef but the smile of his daughter was enough of a reward. He wanted her to have a belly full of good meat and vegetables. His own belly groaned, hungry like a lion. He didn’t realize that he was late for diner, her wife or his baby used to call him when it was the case. Everyone seemed busy today. Water boiled in the casserole he filled with potatoes, avoiding splashing his hands with the simmering water. A harder task than it was supposed to be, water landing on his hand. He hissed, shaking his hand far from the casserole.

“Are you okay, papa?” His little girl asked, turning to him. He nodded again, cooling his hand under the stream of water in the sink.

“Yeah, papa just burnt his hand a bit.” He sighed. He looked at her. “Y’know how clumsy he can be.” He smiled at her, earning a laugh from her. She hoisted herself on her legs, sore from the playtime on the floor causing her to wobble. It wasn’t rare for her to lose balance, she always had a hard time walking on her legs. It was the reason why her father never liked her leaving the house alone. It took her a few clumsy steps to reach a small cabinet that she opened. Another few clumsy steps to reach her dad to which she handed him the bandages. Her father’s eyes observed her hands, as if she was the one who hurt herself, before thanking her. Sitting down on the squeaking chair, he reached out his hand to her. “You wanna help pa’?” She nodded in response. Holding the bandages in her small hands, she gently unwrapped it around his hand. Soft, quiet, she made sure to not hurt him more than he already was. But pain was already gone when he looked at her. In a world where she was alive, no pain could touch him. Quiet words were exchanged, guiding her to carefully wrap his hand. He looked at his bandaged hand, not hurting as much as he thought it would. Perhaps burn wounds became a habit as he tended to burn his fingers when he filled the fireplace with logs of wood.

Night settled in as the sun rested behind horizon. Bird’s melody quieted down for crickets and cicadas to take their turn in the song. Last sun’s rays pierced through pines before disappearing in the darkness of the night. Purple painted over pink hues the sun left on the sky, blue slowly fading his way over it. Despite the crushing darkness of the night, it could never erase the pink his eyes were seeing. A pink faded with orange, as if the day never wanted to stop. The sun was too stubborn to let the moon take place. Perhaps, it was him, who never wanted the day to stop. Time flew by, too fast for him. Days were too short for him to enjoy his time with his daughter. Despite those short days, every morning was a blessing as he was greeted by her face, her smile, her eyes. Despite those quick days, every morning were the same. A routine he settled, for their own good.

Winter was coming, wood had to be chopped, the cabin warmed up and the cold kept outside.

Warmth weighted on him as he slashed his axe through the wood. Horses went grazing farther away, playing and running around. Despite the crushing sun, they were ecstatic. Birds chirped and flew away with each wood’s log being slit in pieces. Sweats dripped along his forehead, muscled arms flexing with each movements. Cutting woods was always a chores, one his wife appreciated as he always did it without his top on. Rare became their intimate moments since their daughter came in their life. He thought about his wife, who left for mushrooms. She would be coming back, for a nice mushroom stew he would prepare. A bit of vegetables, of meat and herbs, and it would be perfect for his daughter. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear little steps behind him.

“Papa?” He jolted, turning his head towards her. A quiet sigh relaxed his shoulders as he placed the axe on the trunk.

“Don’t scare me like that little one.” He whispered, passing his arm on his forehead to wipe sweats away.

“We didn’t call the wolves.” She retorted, quickly. He looked at her, frowning his brows. He felt confused, hands placed on his hips. He tilted his head on the side, as questioning her. He breathed heavily as the heat weighted on him.

“You fell asleep, papa.”

He looked at her an instant. Pinching his lips, he looked down. How dumb he was. A man of promises who couldn’t keep his promises. He wanted to argue, to tell her they did. He was sure of it but how a father could doubt his daughter’s words? Admitting his defeat, his fault, he knelt down to her height. He gently took her hands in his, hers disappearing in his large hands. She felt soft, as smooth as silk, a tad cold. Placing tender kisses above her hands, he looked up at her.

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could reply. He felt guilty and couldn’t bring himself to give her a new promise he couldn’t keep. Excusing himself was all he could do. Perhaps they needed more time together. He decided to abandon chopping woods for her, leading her to the house. He tried his best to be the father she deserved, he was learning as much as her and listened to her needs to fulfill her child’s heart. They were growing together. Walking towards the cabin, he led her to the house. She felt hesitant, wanting to walk longer in the garden but she finally gave in. Following her father’s steps was always a safer choice than wandering alone, with her uncoordinated feet.

Entering the house, he had a shiver. He felt cold despite little flames dancing in the fireplace. He sat down next to the fireplace, the sunshine passing through the windows. She sat next to him, holding her toys in her hands. She went back to it, howling with her wolf toy raising its paws in the air. He couldn’t believe she was satisfied with such simple games. A kid like him needed to run, scream and jump everywhere. He was a “little terror”; adults loved to give him nicknames. Perhaps her clumsy feet didn’t help her, he thought. Turning his gaze to the fire, he thought about the next day. He would take her with him and bring her on his horse.

An uncomfortable silence filled him. He frowned as he turned his head to his daughter.

“Where’s mama?”

His daughter raised her head towards him.

“Who’s mama?”

Silence filled the room, as he stared at her.

“What?”

“She went to pick mushrooms, papa.” She smiled at him before playing with her toys again. He didn’t respond as he stared at her. He shook his head, thinking his ears were playing games with him. Or his daughter probably was, kids often says weird stuff after all, he told himself. A sigh left his mouth, his shoulders falling as he relaxed. He couldn’t help but feel his ears buzzing, disturbing the peacefulness of his silence. It probably was due from the heat outside. Hoisting himself on his feet, he walked to the kitchen. Not a long walk as the cabin was pretty small. It had a second floor for a few beds; it was more of an attic. Quietly, as to not disrupt his daughter’s playtime, he put down a pan on the gas, followed by a casserole. He couldn’t help but shiver again, his eyes staring outside the window. How weird, how cold he felt even with the scorching sun outside. Shrugging it off, accusing it on the cabin’s humidity, he sat down on the small table to peel potatoes.

His eyes felt heavy, his hands having a hard time following his movements. He certainly needed some rest, close to his girl. Void filled his head as humming gently flew to his ears. He fought his fatigue, keeping on peeling those potatoes as if it was his last mission. He couldn’t help but listen to this sweet melody, lips ajar. It felt like a voice coming from another world, echoing in his head. He yielded, his heavy eyelids closing.

He found himself cutting wood again. We were already tomorrow? He asked himself, frowning. He didn’t realize how quick time went by. Days became shorter, mornings became rougher. He kept his routine, despite the guilt of not spending time with his daughter. He shook his head in discord with his own mind. He placed the axe down, sitting on the trunk. Perhaps he should go see her, it seemed like forever since he didn’t see her.

“Papa?” He got startled, turning his head to his girl. Hands behind her back, she smiled at him. Her hair seemed even brighter, the sun shining along her hair. He couldn’t help a smile, admiring the little girl who was his daughter. It felt weird, how he didn’t feel his heart beat in happiness, but knew better how grateful he was for the world to give him such a pretty daughter. He would fight men and gods for her.

“Yea, darling?” He bowed his head on the side, to have a better view of her as the sun was blinding him.

“I keep calling for you.”

Silence settled, as their eyes met. A smile twisted his lips, his head shaking in disapproval.

“Wha’ do you mean?” He puffed, putting down his hat. He was met with silence as she looked at him. Silence filled him, filled his mind, lips ajar. His gaze never left hers as he couldn’t even move his brows in a frown. A nervous laugh left his mouth, as if she admitted to have an imaginary friend. He lifted himself from the trunk, quiet steps approaching her. He felt it, his heart beating against his rib cage. It was painful, agonizingly fast. He could feel it in his wrists, his ears, his throat. It was beating everywhere in his body, his blood rushing in his veins. His knees met the floor, icy cold. He reached for her face, his eyes meeting hers.

“Papa.”

He heard it.

Winter was there, his knees buried deep in the snow. Woods was chopped, packed up near the cabin.

Winter was there and it was overwhelmingly hot. Heat weighed down on his body, knees buried deep in the snow. He couldn’t find the strength to stand up, he didn’t have the strength to scream.

Winter was there and her cries were faded in the roaring growls of the fire, her torment silenced by the cruelty of those flames.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at her suffering. He didn’t have the courage to see how lonely she is. He thought about her small hands reaching for the sky, asking for her father. He imagined her cries, desperately calling for her father. He realized how lonely she must have been, consumed by those barbaric flames who didn’t have pity for a small soul such as her. Those mornings were only lies, those days never existed because the sun never rested down; he landed a finger to the house he would curse.

He realized how his mind played him, giving him hopes of living with her. Those days never happened.

Left alone, in front of those blinding flames, he heard them. Wolves howled their despair, trying to reach her ears, never would she be able to hear them with her father.

“She’s gone.”

[hb-writes]

Meet the Falconios

Summary: Maria has been dating Frank in secret, but when the pregnancy test comes back positive, she decides it's finally time to introduce Frank to her sister and Nonna.

Characters: Frank Castle, Maria Falconio, Nonna Falconio (OC) & Lenny Falconio (OC)

Content Warnings: None

Life As We Know It (The Punisher) Masterlist

—

Standing on the tips of her toes and using the kitchen counter as leverage, Lenny Falconino could just about see where her sister was standing out in front of the house, greeting the new guy she’d been seeing. 

Frank something. Maria hadn’t really told her anything about him, had barely confirmed she was seeing someone even though she had been out late with the guy nearly every night for weeks. 

“He’s tall,” Lenny reported, pushing a bit further onto the tips of her toes as the guy leaned in to kiss Maria right on the lips. Right out in the open like that. Lenny’s sister was pretty tall, so it made sense that she’d date a taller guy. 

Lenny had always wondered, usually aloud, when she’d catch up to her sister height-wise, but her nonna had not so lightly suggested she let the dream go. Lenny was thirteen already and according to Nonna, while Maria had gotten their father’s height, Lenny took after their Poppi, meaning she was short and she was going to stay that way. “And he—”

“Ow! Nonna!” Lenny shouted as she felt the distinct sting of her grandmother’s wooden spoon. The wretched thing had mysteriously disappeared amongst the casserole dishes, pots, and pans by the time Lenny turned around to face her grandmother, but she’d know that sting anywhere. She’d certainly felt it more than enough times in her short life.

“Quit spying on your sister, Elena Gabriella.” 

Lenny slumped against the counter as her grandmother’s gaze slid over her. Her nonna was acting as if this evening wasn’t a big deal now that the guy was practically at their doorstep, but she’d spent all afternoon preparing—primping and cleaning and cooking and cooking some more. Lord, the cooking. Lenny was sick of it, having been stuck there in that kitchen for most of the day helping, not even permitted to taste any of it. 

And if that wasn’t bad enough, Lenny had to watch and listen out the window while the neighborhood kids played ball in the street. She hadn’t been allowed out, not even after the Rossi twins had come to the door and pleaded their case with Nonna. 

The teams were uneven. Lenny was the fastest base runner. The best at stealing. Fresh air is good for kids. 

Nonna hadn’t cared to hear any of it. Not today. Not when it was a special day for Maria, a special day for the Falconios… 

Lenny had stayed in the kitchen while the twins begged on her behalf, and Lenny had gotten a look from her grandmother when she stalked back to the kitchen. As if it had been Lenny’s fault that her friends came to the door, as if she had somehow, from her spot inside the prison that was her grandmother’s kitchen, recruited her friends to lobby on her behalf.

“You’ll only dirty your dress,” Nonna had said, as if Lenny couldn’t just go upstairs and change out of the stupid thing and change back before the boyfriend arrived. 

As if it actually mattered if she did get it dirty. 

As if she was meant to be perfect to meet her sister’s stupid boyfriend. 

As if anyone cared what she looked like, especially when Maria was around—beautiful, funny, charming Maria. Being thirteen was awkward enough, and Lenny was doing it in her sister’s shadow and it felt like everything about the way she was doing it was wrong.

She certainly felt wrong in the dress Nonna had insisted she wear, something that was in the collection of things Lenny usually only got forced into for church on Sunday mornings, not for family dinners at the house. 

It was after that pointed exchange that Maria dragged her sister away from their grandmother’s side, somehow knowing that the two of them were heading for a fight. Some instinct telling Maria that Lenny was just seconds away from complaining about the dress and the whole fuss their grandmother was making. Even if Lenny hadn’t yet developed the self awareness to know when it was best to just agree with their grandmother and let things be, Maria knew, could feel it in the air like the change in pressure before a big storm.

And even if Maria hadn’t known for certain, she needed something to do while she waited for Frank to arrive. Their grandmother was fussing in the kitchen even though there was nothing left to do, and Maria didn’t want to be down there with her, pacing and wringing her hands, but she needed something to distract herself so she didn’t go mad with nerves.

Much better for the girls to be up in the bedroom they shared, to allow their grandmother to do her anxious puttering in peace and to allow Lenny to get out whatever resentment she was feeling about the day out of their grandmother’s ear shot. 

Lenny wretched out of Maria’s grip once the door shut behind them, quickly settling on the edge of her twin-sized bed while Maria paced between the space between Lenny’s and her own. 

“She’s driving me crazy,” Lenny said, but Maria was only half listening as she paced. She needed something to do with her hands. Something to occupy herself. She glanced at the clock and then back to her sister.

“Can I do your hair?” Maria asked. 

Lenny rarely did anything more than run a brush through her long waves or tie it back in a ponytail. Maria never had the patience to let her own hair grow, but Lenny’s was long and beautiful, running all the way down her back. 

“Nothing fancy?” Lenny asked. She let her sister or grandmother braid it for her sometimes—before bed, mostly—to keep it from getting tangled and snagged while she slept, but she wasn’t one for sitting still for long periods of time. 

Maria nodded even though fancy things were Maria’s specialty. She was good with styling hair, but she knew that wasn’t what Lenny liked. It wasn’t what she wanted, and whenever she could, Maria tried to respect what her sister wanted. And she had just needed the distraction anyway. 

Lenny moved over to the vanity settled on her sister’s side of the room and Maria followed, her fingers gentle as she worked the scrunchie from Lenny’s hair and picked up the brush. 

Lenny’s eyes fell closed as Maria moved the brush over her scalp and down her long tresses. Maria was gentle as she worked, far gentler than their mother or grandmother had ever been, and the brushing soothed Lenny. Whatever agitation and resentment had been building after being cooped up all afternoon settled a bit. She opened her eyes to see Maria biting her lip in the mirror, lost entirely in the process of smoothing out Lenny’s tangles. 

 “You’re nervous he won’t like us?” Lenny guessed. She figured that was why her older sister never brought any guys around, never let Lenny even meet them or know about them. The brush stilled in Maria’s hand, her head tilted a bit as her eyes met Lenny’s in the mirror for a second before she started up the work of sectioning Lenny’s hair. She gently tilted Lenny’s head to the necessary angle, and only once she started the work of weaving the hair into braids did she answer.

“I’m more worried about what you’ll think of him,” Maria answered. “I want you to like him.” 

Lenny shifted, forgetting that her sister was braiding her hair, and tried to look at Maria. “What does it matter if I like him? I’m not the one dating him.”

Maria nudged Lenny back into position, pulling on her hair a bit tighter than she liked to, a bit of a smile on her lips. 

“You’re my sister,” she said, “Of course it matters that you like him.” 

“And it doesn’t matter if he likes me?” she asked. “Or Nonna?” 

Maria finished tying off the braid she was working on and met Lenny’s eye in the mirror. 

“The Falconio girls are a package deal,” she said before starting on the second braid. 

Maria wasn’t worried about Frank liking his sister. Or her Nonna. There was a certain charm to the household, despite its quirks. Despite Nonna and Lenny’s sometimes less than sunny dispositions. 

And Maria had told Frank so much about them, he practically knew them both already. She’d been telling Frank about Lenny and Nonna since they met, but she had barely spoken a word about him to them until last week. Until she found out she was pregnant. Until she found out that she needed to say something about the man she’d fallen head over heels in love with.

Lenny hadn’t had time to ask her sister to clarify that statement, or to return the sentiment because Maria heard a familiar car pull up out front, a sound that made her suddenly stand up straighter.

“He’s here,” Maria said, glancing toward the window with a smile before she turned back to Lenny. Maria quickly finished up with her sister’s hair, waiting for Lenny’s approval which came in the form of a quick smile and a nod, before speeding off down the stairs and out the front door.

——

Frank Castle had brought flowers, three bunches of them. One for each of the Falconio girls, each of them in shades of their favorite colors. He’d won Nonna over then, and she was already correcting Frank for calling her “ma’am” by the time they sat down to eat.

He cleaned his plate, twice, conversation flowing between him, Maria, and Nonna like he’d been part of the family for decades. Like he was the grandson Nonna had always wanted, but never had. 

Lenny hadn’t said much, but she was genuinely happy to have him there. Happy that he kept their grandmother distracted. Happy that she hadn’t even noticed Lenny had yet to touch the artichoke hearts her grandmother had put on her plate even though she hated them. Absolutely despised them. She’d said as much, only to get some sharp response in Italian, her first and middle name affixed sourly at the end of it. 

Her face had warmed for a bit as she met Frank’s eye across the table. And he’d proceeded to tell their grandmother how good everything was, thanking her again for inviting him, and leaving Lenny to sulk about her artichokes in relative peace. 

Lenny had been thinking about little else since, just trying to figure out how to get rid of the artichokes without making a scene, without getting caught. Nonna wasn’t usually so over the top about it. Lenny ate most of her vegetables. And she wasn’t a child anymore. She just didn’t like artichokes, but Lenny supposed Nonna was trying to make a good impression of sorts, and making sure someone eats their vegetables seems like a grandmotherly thing to do. 

Nonna didn’t know that she wasn’t the one who Maria thought needed to make a good impression. She didn’t know that Frank’s opinion was of little consequence and that Maria was only watching every interaction so closely to ensure that Lenny and Nonna were liking Frank. 

Even so, Lenny hadn’t had a dilemma like this in years. It had been ages since she last had to engineer a plan to get vegetables off her plate without chewing and swallowing them. When she was little, she had excused herself to the bathroom and stuffed as much as she could into her mouth before walking away from the table to spit everything in the toilet. It wasn’t the smartest or most inconspicuous of moves, and she had gotten away with it a few times before her grandmother started making her show off an empty mouth before she was allowed to leave the table, but it had worked for a time.

She hadn’t endured that particular humiliation in years, but Lenny wouldn’t put it past her grandmother to pick today to start that routine up again, so she quickly discarded it as an option, instead moving her food around her plate, taking small bites of the things she did like. 

Frank had Nonna talking more than Lenny had heard the woman talk in ages outside of a lecture, and her eyes didn’t stray from Frank as she spoke, answering the litany of questions he put to her, nodding and smiling in all the right places, seemingly enthralled by whatever the woman was saying. Lenny couldn’t say what it was all about. She hadn’t been listening, too caught up in her own thoughts. 

Lenny’s eyes darted to her sister who was also seemingly enthralled, and clearly caught up by watching Frank and the way he was doting on their grandmother. Pleased by the way he’d passed Nonna’s test, at least, so easily brought into the fold, offering Maria a sense of ease she’d been greatly missing the last week or so. 

Lenny glanced at her grandmother and Frank again. The pair of them were still preoccupied, almost like Lenny was invisible so she acted then, initiating a transfer of the food straight into a napkin settled on her lap. She ended the maneuver by taking a singular bite of something else on her plate, which she swallowed down with a groan, calling everyone’s attention to her. 

Nonna glanced at the portion of artichoke first, or at least to the place on Lenny’s plate where the artichoke had once been, a faint smile on the woman’s face. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

“Delicious, Nonna,” Lenny said, forcing a smile. “Just like Frank said.” 

Nonna’s eyes shifted then to the empty plates around the table, and she began shifting in her seat, readying herself to rise.

“Come, Elena. You’ll help me with the dishes,” Nonna said, but Frank stood up quickly, lifting Nonna’s plate into his hand before the woman could gather it herself. 

“Let me take care of these, ma’am. It’s the least I can do after such a delicious meal. You go ahead and take a walk before it gets dark.”

Lenny nearly snorted before she remembered herself and the serving of artichoke concealed in her pocket. It was suddenly so clear that Maria had prepped Frank for this dinner, telling him enough to ensure he would charm their grandmother and survive the evening. 

She had informed him that Nonna took to her after dinner walk as strictly as she did to church. She had told him that the woman always took the stroll between dinner and dessert, and that she preferred to walk before the day’s light settled behind the buildings across the street. 

Even so, their grandmother was poised to decline Frank’s offer. Lenny braced herself to be ordered into the kitchen to help her grandmother once again, calculating in her head whether or not she could make it to the trash can to dispose of the infamous artichoke before Nonna arrived in the kitchen, but the calculations were seemingly unnecessary as Maria spoke up before the old woman could put up a proper fuss. 

“Let him help, Nonna,” she said as she stood. “You and I can take our walk. Lenny can help Frank with the dishes.” 

It was usually something Lenny would have been annoyed about, being voluntold by her sister like that, but in this instance, she was grateful to Maria for suggesting it. If Lenny stayed behind with Frank, she could get rid of the artichoke in the pocket of her dress with their grandmother none the wiser. 

“Yeah, Nonna. You and Maria go, and we’ll have dessert when you come back,” Lenny promised as Maria guided the woman out. 

Lenny waited until they were through the front door before she stood quickly, stacking plates and silverware, taking the whole pile with her to the kitchen. Her feet didn’t move quickly enough though because Frank was beside her with the glasses and napkins in hand, setting them all down on the counter beside the sink. 

“Wash or dry?” he asked. Already standing in front of the trash can, he began scraping the dishes off into the garbage, already seemingly at home in Nonna’s kitchen, something Lenny often failed to feel even though she’d spent most of her life there. 

“Wash,” Lenny answered, moving to the sink and starting on the glasses while Frank scraped the plates.  

“You want me to throw that artichoke out for you or you keeping them for later?” 

Lenny stilled at the sink, her hands submerged in the hot, soapy water as she turned toward Frank, a smirk on his face when she met his gaze. 

“You saw that?”

Frank snorted. “I practically invented that trick, kid.” 

Lenny normally would have bristled at being called a kid. It usually felt like an insult, but there was a certain warmth about Frank. Lenny got a certain feeling that Frank understood her and the way of things better than most people did. 

For a moment, she idly wondered if he was just showing off, just trying to get her on his good side, but as she passed over the soggy napkin full of artichoke, she found she didn’t really care what Frank’s motives were. As long as the guy kept his mouth shut, he was alright by Lenny. 

“They taste terrible,” Lenny mumbled as Frank dropped the bundle into the trash. “I don’t know why you said it was so good. Now she’ll want to make it every time you come over.” 

“It was good,” he answered, picking up a towel and starting to dry. “I didn’t like that sort of stuff when I was your age either, but tastes change.” 

Lenny gagged. “Yeah, well, I’ll never like it.” 

Frank snorted, a knowing smile growing on his face as he kept drying, the only sound between them the clinking of silverware. 

“So your sister said you like baseball,” he said. “You’re a Mets fan?” 

“Duh,” Lenny answered, as if there were no other option as a New Yorker. To Lenny, it felt like the truth. There were the Yankees, of course, but Lenny had been born and raised in Queens, and her dad had loved the Mets, so some part of her was convinced it was genetic. She hadn’t had a choice in the matter.

“Yeah, my buddy’s a big fan, too,” Frank offered as he took the last dish and Lenny stepped to the cupboard to pull out four dessert plates. “We should all go to a game sometime.” 

Lenny scoffed. “Maria won’t want to go. She doesn’t care about baseball.” 

“Yeah, maybe not,” Frank said as he successfully located the silverware drawer and extracted a few forks, “but she cares a whole lot about you…

“Enough to convince Nonna to go on a walk so you can throw out your artichokes, at least,” Frank added with a wink before he scooped up the plates and forks and headed for the dining room.

Life As We Know It (The Punisher) Masterlist

[spiritofhyena]

Black salt / witches' salt

WARNING: do NOT mix it up with the edible black salt for kitchen use. They are both called “black salt” but one is salt with activated charcoal or salt from a volcanic area that can be used in cooking, the other is a mix of salt, ashes, and other non-edible things used as a protection or banishing spell. I personally use it as a halfway between warding/protection and banishing as I add things usually associated with banishing.

I tried to search up the origin of the “witches’ salt” but I didn’t find anything solid (but also I made only a couple of quick searches on google because I was crunching time as I did this either before/after work or sometimes during slow moments at work) so, my best guess would be that its origin might be derived from the use of salt in many folkloric traditions as a protection or to purify, mixed a bit with a concept similar to the "witches' bottle", but I digress.

Disclaimer again: I wrote most of this during work time and edited it afterwards so I can't guarantee the form and grammar used.

I first made black salt after a couple of quick searches for protection and banishing spells that could help me in my practice, as I first started I was a bit of an idiot (to quote Set) and didn't keep anything to protect myself around when doing divination and other things.

With time I noticed that it's a good all-around protection and also, with a couple of tweaks, could be perfect to also banish in a "bounce back to sender" way.

There are different recipes on the Internet and among witchy communities but they mostly differ for some ingredients added (or not added) and I believe all would work… but surely, IMHO, if you tailor them to your needs it would be more effective.

This is what I made for myself, and I'll also include the "return to sender" version.

Tools you’ll need:

a jar with a lid to store it

mortar & pestle (not mandatory: I don’t have one so I use a tiny ceramic casserole and one of those wooden pestles for cocktails bc that’s what I had at home… use whatever could do the job)

a candle in the colour you associate with protection and warding

Ingredients:

salt (duh-)

ashes (either incense ashes, firepit ashes/charcoal, soot or you could also use activated charcoal)

eggshells powder

black pepper

rosemary

bay leaves

sage (kitchen kind is perfect!)

whatever herb you associate with protection

Process:

Honestly, you should do this however it feels right for you. You could cast a circle, call the elements or whatever. I don’t do that because it’s not part of my practice. You don’t even need to cleanse or anything if you don’t feel it’s necessary: it’ll work anyway.

Light the candle (ofc if you think it’s needed) and put the ingredients in the mortar, a little bit at a time, to grind them a bit and most importantly mix all of them. Focus on your intention, if you feel you need to recite something to enchant it then do it. Mix all the ingredients, I usually start with salt, add eggshell powder, all the other ingredients and then another bit of salt at the end to “close” everything.

If you want to give it a little “boost” you could write on a bay leaf “I am protected” or the like and then burn it (do it in a fireproof container! bay leaves are nasty burners and like to pop a lot!) to “activate” it and mix it to the rest of the ingredients.

When everything is all mixed, then you can pour it into the jar and close it. It’s up to you if you want to seal the lid with some wax or not. I do not do it because if I decide to redo it I can open it and clean the jar more easily before preparing the new black salt.

Again, it’s up to you if you want to charge it under the moonlight/sunlight or in some other way: do what you feel that's right to do.

And that’s it! Congrats you made black salt that will protect your space!

For the return-to-sender version:

add more pepper

slap also some paprika or better some chilli pepper powder

also put there some garlic

you can add other ingredients you associate with banishing

add a bay leaf (or also a piece of paper) with the intention written on it like “the harm/malicious intent is returned to who cast it” or whatever you feel right

complete!

[kiragecko]

How Fast Do I Need To Wash That?

Whether you're just learning to live on your own, or life circumstances mean cleaning is becoming more difficult, there are times when you need to decide 'do I actually need to wash that dish RIGHT now?'

I'm here to provide a rough guide for how forgiving your dishes are going to be.

Material

Glass - wash all food particles off glass immediately. You don't have to clean it completely, but don't leave anything that will harden. If you scrape stuff off glass it will scratch, and scratched glass will unpredictably break. Scratched casserole dishes, especially, randomly explode in the oven. (Ask me how I know!) Drinking glasses are usually fine, since most drinks rinse out easily at any point, but milk forms a residue and will be more work later.

Ceramic - unless it's corelle, its better to wash off anything that will harden. But it can be left if you really need to. Less likely to shatter than glass, but good at chipping/cracking, which can let germs build up.

Corelle - corelle is amazing. Don't worry about it unless there's one of the Bad Foods below.

Plastic - can't let stuff sit long enough to go moldy, because mold can infect the plastic. Scratches can also let germs build up, and it scratches easily. Likes absorbing the colours of the food. Otherwise pretty forgiving - most stuff slides off when rubbed no matter how long it's had to harden.

Wood - can't be soaked (it swells) and can absorb germs. Important to fully wash immediately. I limit the amount of wood I keep in my kitchen, but wooden spoons can be really useful. (They can stop stuff from overflowing???)

Non-stick/teflon coatings - wash immediately. Has special cleaning rules. Is a spoiled baby just waiting for a slight scratch to start degrading rapidly.

Cast Iron - wipe out immediately if you want to keep its seasoning. Has special cleaning rules. BUT. If you're willing to re-season every time, you can do ANYTHING to cast iron. Attack it with some steel wool or a scouring pad and it will be fine. Don't soak with other things, though, as they may not handle the rust it bleeds.

Other metal - pretty forgiving, but will get 'sticky' with repeated steel wool use, which can make cooking harder.

Shape

Narrow openings - if your hand can't get into the container, wash it out immediately. Trying to swish a cloth around using a wooden spoon is hard.

Many small holes - potato mashers, egg slicers, and graters should be FULLY WASHED IMMEDIATELY. They hate you. Not only are they full of crevices for food to hide in, but the food they are designed for are all Bad Foods. If you have limited spoons¹, factor washing these utensils into your meal plans. Do not torture future you. Strainers, slotted spoons², etc. should also be treated proactively if they have anything that can stick on them.

Flat shapes - these are your friends. Easy to clean. Do not worry about the friendly flat shapes.

Food

Things that are used to make glue (ie. Bad Foods) -

Starches - potatoes, rice, hot cereals (oatmeal/cream of wheat/etc), and anything else starchy have been used to make glue for millennia. Do not let them do so on your plate.

Milk - also used to make glue. Rinses off when wet. Rinsing off is better. (But probably the most forgiving of the glue options.)

Eggs - they seem so pleasant! But these sneaky things wish to form a molecule thick layer over all of your dishes and utensils. Probably have the shortest safe lifespan of any food - by the time I'm done eating, my plate is already getting harder to clean. A quick wipe is insufficient, needs to be fully cleaned immediately.

Sticky things - it may or may not matter. Some sticky things turn into concrete when dry and need to be removed immediately. Others stay the same, or get flaky. You need to build the experience yourself. Sorry.

Cheese - it's not the WORST, but it IS harder to clean after drying. Melted cheese is usually worse, but cheese graters are a special nightmare.

Vegetables - can go moldy quick, otherwise they rarely cause problems.

Meat - needs to be immediately cleaned off anything porous (plastic, wood) to avoid dangerous germs. Can smell or attract vermin. But otherwise easy to clean at any point.

Fat or grease - attracts vermin. REALLY attracts vermin. But easy to clean at any point.

Melted stuff - melted stuff is usually in the middle of a chemical reaction while you are eating it. It won't always be harder to clean at the final point of that reaction, but it will usually be DIFFERENT. Another case of building up your own experience.

Sauces - are usually easier to clean immediately, but also usually not terrible if you wait. They do stain the dishes less if you get them quickly, if that's important to you!

-

Use this list to abandon your juice glasses and sandwich plates for days with no anxiety!

Wipe the cheese off your lasagna dish and leave it for later!

And immediately wash out that innocent-seeming rice pudding bowl, smugly crowing about how the glue will not win today!

-

¹ 'Spoons' as a disability metaphor for energy level

² 'Slotted spoons' as a physical object in your kitchen

[crowskulls-art-and-fandoms]

Christmas at Tidmouth

(eyyy, I did it. First fic I've finished in a long time. Hope you enjoy it, happy holidays. 💕🎄🎁)

Christmas Eve on Sodor, and the Tidmouth household is bustling as the engineers prepare for a get together. Edward and James are working hard in the kitchen. Edward dipped a wooden spoon into the pot of stew, tasting it.

“Mm.. Not quite ready..”

He looks over and sees James pull the ham out of the oven, his nose scrunched up in discomfort as the heat of the oven hit his face. But he toughed it out. Pulling the dish out of the oven and setting it on the island counter, then he took the casserole and quickly put it in the oven after, closing the door before turning back to the counter and getting the aluminum foil to cover the ham so it stays warm for later. After that was done, he paused and sighed dramatically.

“Shouldn't we ask for some help from the others..?”

Edward asked, and James huffed.

“Nope, I don't trust any of them in this kitchen, and they have a ton of stuff they need to do to get the party ready. I just need everyone to stay out of the kitchen and out of my way-”

James added with a frustrated tone, but his expression softened when he heard Edward's little chuckle.

“What am I then?”

“The exception.”

James replied confidently, and slightly flirty, and he immediately calmed down. Edward’s smile grew warmly and he looked back to the stove. Straining a bit to reach the dishes on the back burners. The various vegetable options all looked great, almost ready. Then Edward stepped back and looked through the glass of the oven in front of him, multiple trays of Christmas cookies he had put in a bit ago. Right on time, the timer on his phone went off and it was time to take them out. He turned off the alarm then retrieved his oven mitts from the drawer. He opened the oven, stepping back a moment to avoid the wave of heat, then he leaned back in to get the trays.

“James, can you make sure there's some extra room on the counter for these?”

“Sure thing.”

And James moved any dish towels or dishes on the countertops, allowing Edward to take the cookie trays out of the oven and set them down. There were about five trays to make sure there's enough for everyone. James took up the counter space left so he could finish the salad bowl. Edward checked the stuff on the stove one more time to make sure it wasn't burning before he turned his attention to the hoard of freshly made cookies. There were multiple kinds; chocolate chip, oatmeal, nut, and Christmas decorated sugar cookies. Edward took a paper plate and began fanning the trays to cool them down faster so that he could plate them and put the trays away. It didn't take long for them to cool off enough to be moved. Edward got the ornate Christmas plates and placed the cookies very nicely on them, then he put the finished product in the dining room, on the designated dessert table with the other sweet dishes. He returned to the kitchen and went straight to the stove to turn off the burners, stirring the different pots then letting them sit to enhance the flavors. He leaned against the island with a sigh, taking the moment of calm to relax.

He glanced to the side when he noticed James coming out of the dining room, chocolate chip cookie in hand. Edward let out a soft chuckle.

“James, those are for later!”

He said light heartedly, James immediately smiling.

“C'mon, Eddie, you know I can't resist your cooking.”

He teased, meeting Edward on the other side of the island. He leaned his hip against it then broke the cookie in half, offering a piece to Edward. Edward accepted and gently took it from James' hand, taking a bite. He couldn't help but laugh a bit when he saw James eat the whole half in one bite, groaning softly with satisfaction.

“I swear, you're the best cook I know. Well.. Not better than my mom but still, heh. Might even be better than me.”

“Hehe, thank you, James. That's very sweet of you.”

Edward smiled, and James smirked.

“Well… Not as sweet as you..”

James purred, his smile widening when he noticed Edward's cheeks turn pink.

“Awe, James..”

Edward cooed and leaned closer to him, James warmly wrapped his arm around his waist.

“Merry Christmas, Edward..”

“Merry Christmas, James..”

The moment was quiet and comforting as the two stood together. Then they flinched as they were interrupted by a loud bang from the living room, and Gordon yelling.

“Thomas, we told you we need this furniture out of the way while we're getting stuff from the attic!!”

“Sorry, Gordon!”

Edward sighed.

“Oh boy…”

Meanwhile in the sitting room, Gordon and Henry were struggling a bit to keep balance with the large Christmas tree in their arms. Thomas and Nia rushed to try to move chairs out of their way so that they could get it down the stairs, Percy cleared a spot near the TV then moved so that they could set it down. Gordon grunted and stretched his arms when they finally had it in place. Emily was making her way down the stairs with her arms full of Christmas light rolls, Toby coming down behind her with the box of ornaments.

“Why do we always wait until Christmas Eve to put everything up?”

Toby asked.

“We never had the time because of work, so we've just gotten into the routine of doing it all on Christmas Eve before the party.”

Emily replied, handing Henry a roll of lights for him to hang up.

“Do we still need to do it all on Christmas Eve though? Our schedules are different now, we have the time to do it earlier.”

Gordon groaned as he plugged in the Christmas tree, its lights turning on and casting a beautiful glow around the room.

“It’s kind of fun! All of the hustle and bustle and doing everything together, it's like our own family tradition.”

Nia responded. Gordon couldn't help but smile.

“I guess you're right..”

Thomas and Nia pushed the chairs and sofa into the right places, moving the coffee table in correspondence, just in time for Gordon to sit down for a bit. Toby took up the job of putting the ornaments on the tree, Emily and Henry lining the lights on the stair railing and shelving, Henry lining the edges of the ceiling. James and Edward came into the living room after finishing up in the kitchen.

“Everything looks great in here!”

Edward beamed.

“Surprising, after hearing that ruckus a minute ago.”

James teased, Thomas rolling his eyes.

“Soooorry, we can't all be as perfect as you.”

Thomas snarked, but James just smirked.

“A shame, isn't it?”

He laughed a bit. Edward lightly elbowed him.

“Come on, no arguing, it's Christmas Eve.”

Edward stepped around the sofa and sat down, sighing softly. Gordon leaned back and relaxed, almost dozing off after a few minutes, until he jerked awake from sudden noise.

“I found the board games!”

Percy shouted from down the hall. Gordon just groaned and rubbed his eyes. Edward patted his shoulder comfortingly. Percy happily came into the room with a couple boxes in his arms. James cringed a bit.

“We really have that many board games..?”

“What's wrong with having a lot of board games?”

Percy sat the boxes down and sat on the floor, taking out every game and stacking them up next to him.

“Is it really necessary for a household to have like twenty board games??”

James pressed. Percy rolled his eyes.

“Twenty-three. And yes, it's good to have a lot of options, especially for the holidays!”

James just scoffed and smoothed his hair back.

“Sounds just foolish.”

“You sound just foolish.”

“I do not!”

Edward rubbed his temple as James and Percy bickered.

“James, can you start taking the food to the dining room, please?”

“No problem.”

James said with a suspicious smile.

“And don't eat all of the cookies!”

Edward yelled after him, hearing a groan of annoyance from James. Edward leaned back with a sigh, sweet silence once again. Then he opened his eyes and looked around, and smiled. The room sparkling with lights, the sounds of small chatter and decorations being hung up. And soon soft music started playing as Nia had put on one of the records. Edward loved this feeling, and it seemed Gordon did too as Edward caught him smiling a bit. Edward placed his hand on Gordon's.

“Y'know, every year you say you find Christmas irritating… Still think that..?”

Gordon was silent for a while, looking around, and he didn't notice how his expression warmed at the joyful sight. Especially seeing his little brother so happy. Edward just smiled and patted Gordon's shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Gordon..”

He said softly, and Gordon looked at him.

“Merry Christmas.. Dad..”

Across the room, Nia was placing little figurine decorations on the shelves and hanging up the tinsel. Then she heard James call to her.

“Hey, Nia! Can you give me a hand with this?!”

“Sure thing, James!”

She finished up what she was doing then went to the kitchen to help James set everything up.

“Can you get the table set up?”

“No problem. Do you need any help with the food?”

“I got it for now. I'll let you know if I need help though.”

“Okay.”

Nia turned away, but James placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

James pulled her closer and rustled her hair.

“Merry Christmas, girly.”

He teased and Nia laughed.

“Hahah! Merry Christmas to you too, James.”

She leaned in and gave him a strong hug before they finally parted and got back to work. Nia retrieved the tablecloth, napkins and table decorations from the closet, placing everything perfectly. Her and James perfectly weaved between each other as he brought in the platters and she went to get the plates and utensils. The plates sat on their respective napkins, the silverware placed neatly. She double checked everything, crossing off her mental checklist, and stepped back with an accomplished sigh as she beholded her work. Then she caught sight of James trying to sneak into the chocolate cake.

“Get out of that!”

She ordered with a small laugh. James groaned and sat the glass dome back down.

“Come on, just one piece!”

“You have to wait until after dinner!”

James crossed his arms with a huff.

“I made half the damn dinner, I should get to have some dessert before it.”

He grumbled, and Nia nudged him playfully.

“Let's get you out of here before the sweets mysteriously disappear.”

She joked. Her and James left the dining room into the kitchen to prepare the beverages, the last thing to make and then everything for dinner is done and ready. Meanwhile in the sitting room, Gordon was still sitting on the couch, his joints getting the best of him as he groaned in pain. Edward tried to help a bit by soothingly squeezing his knee. Henry paused what he was doing as he saw Gordon's plight. He thought for a moment then quickly went upstairs, retrieving Gordon's arthritis medicine from his room then coming back downstairs. Edward noticed what Henry was doing and reached over to pick up the cup of water from the side table, holding it to Gordon. Soon Henry sat down on the other side next to Gordon.

“What are you two doing..?”

He asked, Henry sighed quietly.

“Your arthritis is flaring up, I can tell. You should take your meds.”

He said, and Gordon grumbled, begrudgingly taking the pill bottle from Henry's hand.

“Did you eat lunch?”

Edward asked. And Gordon's silence said everything. Edward's expression faltered.

“Gordon..”

“What?? I just wasn't hungry, it's not a big deal!”

Gordon rebutted, quickly taking his medication and taking a few swigs of water, sighing heavily afterwards. He tensed up a bit feeling a hand on his thigh, Henry's expression concerned but still affectionate.

“You'll eat a full meal tonight, right..?”

Gordon was hesitant, but his expression softened and he sighed.

“Yes..”

“Promise..?”

“... I promise..”

Henry smiled, and Edward smiled as well. Then his smile turned sly and he stood up.

“I'm going to see how Nia and James are doing.”

He said before walking around the sofa and into the kitchen, leaving Henry and Gordon on the couch. Gordon suddenly felt his cheeks warm and his shoulders tensed. He cleared his throat and Henry laughed quietly. He laid his arm on the back of the couch around Gordon, which only made him turn more red. Henry looked around the room, seeing Emily finish up the tree decorations while Toby was picking up and putting away the boxes. Thomas and Percy were sitting on the floor, both equally excited about all of the board game options, talking about the movies they could watch, good snacks to have. Henry couldn't help but smile as he watched them, and he noticed Gordon was smiling too. Henry chuckled softly and nuzzled against Gordon's hair.

“You look nice tonight…”

He murmured, Gordon shocked by the sudden compliment.

“O-oh- uh… Th-thank you..? Um… You look nice too..”

He awkwardly replied, trying to hide the grin on his face, but Henry saw right through it. Then he slowly removed himself and stood up, adjusting his sweater. Gordon looked at him with a questioning gaze.

“Can I show you something?”

“Uh.. Sure.”

Gordon stood up, grunting a bit, though his joint pain was fading a bit and he felt better than he did a minute ago. He followed Henry out of the living room to one of the hallways.

“What'd you want to show me?”

Gordon asked as Henry stopped and turned to him, gently taking his hands. He glanced upward, and Gordon followed his gaze. Turning bright red when he saw the mistletoe hanging above them. His gaze met Henry's again, Henry couldn't help but laugh a bit at the deer in headlights expression on Gordon's face. He brought one of his hands up and gently caressed Gordon's cheek, and Gordon relaxed a bit more, leaning into Henry's hand. Henry's expression warmed as he gazed in awe. Then he leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Gordon's forehead. The two slowly embraced, basking in each other's comfort. Henry didn't need a full kiss, this moment was more than enough for him. They decided to step away from the preparations for a bit, given they finished everything they needed to.

Back in the sitting room, Thomas and Percy placed all of the board games in a neat stack by the sofa for later. Percy went and got the coffee table decorations. Just a couple figurines and the candle display, placing them neatly, almost obsessively trying to make them symmetrical. He leaned back and squinted, trying to make sure it was right.

“Hey, Thomas, does this look right to you?”

“Does what look right?”

“The coffee table stuff, I'm trying to make it perfect.”

“Hmmm..”

Thomas examined it for a moment. Then he rearranged them a bit.

“Wh- what are you doing-?”

“There is such a thing as being too perfect. It shouldn't look so.. Static. More casual. See? Like this.”

He leaned back and held his hand towards it in presentation of the display. Percy looked at it for a moment and tilted his head curiously.

“Oh, you're right, that does look better.”

Percy looked around, seeing the decorations the others put up. He smiled, everything was just so beautiful. Then his expression fell once he remembered something, then he jumped up.

“The presents! We need to get the presents!”

“Oh, crap, you're right!”

Then the two rushed off down the hall to the big closet to retrieve the gift boxes. Toby couldn't help but laugh a bit and Emily shook her head lightheartedly.

“Told you they forgot.”

She said with a soft chuckle. Then Toby looked to her.

“Will Caitlin be coming tonight?”

He asked.

“No, she's in London with family for Christmas, we'll do something special together sometime this week though.”

Emily replied, helping Toby place ornaments on the tree where he couldn't quite reach.

“That's nice, hope you two have a good time.”

“Thank you, Toby. Suppose we'll just have the usual rowdy crowd coming over.”

“Heh, yeah, the twins always seem to get riled up during the holidays.”

Toby replied, he and Emily shared a small laugh at the memory of how excited the twins tend to get at the party, especially Donald. They always got super competitive with each other with the games, Douglas was always the one to hold more of a grudge when he lost. Regardless of who won any of the board games they'd always have a drinking contest after to determine the ‘real winner’. They'd always get equally hammered and it was always a random chance of who'd pass out first and be declared the loser. At least in recent years the drinking games have toned down a bit, now just to who can finish a certain amount of drinks in the shortest amount of time. Donald was the most frequent winner of this game, and Duck always seemed to say scandalous jokes about why that was. Regardless it was all in good fun. It was a good idea to keep Gordon away from the alcohol though, he always got really moody and whiny when he was drunk. Everyone can recall the times he'd fall asleep on the couch after drinking too much and waking up with a hangover that made him ten times as grumpy as he usually was. Admittedly for good reason.

Emily and Toby suddenly heard a crash from down the hall. It was silent for a moment before Percy called out.

“Can someone give us a hand-??”

Emily stepped away from the tree and headed down the hall, Toby stayed behind to clean up the trash and boxes to make sure there was a clear path while the three of them walked in with arm-fulls of presents. Percy made sure they were all organized and placed neatly so they could be easily picked up. Thomas got a bit distracted, shaking his presents to try to figure out what they were. Emily light heartedly smacked his arm.

“No looking until tomorrow, you know the rules.”

She said, and Thomas grumbled.

“Yeah yeah yeah, I know..”

He handed the boxes to Percy and pouted a bit, but smiled again when Emily gave him a hug.

“Okay, okay, I'm smiling, are you happy now?”

He teased and Emily laughed.

“Yes, yes I am. Merry Christmas. To both of you.”

“Merry Christmas, Emmy.”

Thomas replied, rustling her hair. Percy hadn't replied, and they saw it was because he was too focused on the sorting. Thomas poked his arm to get his attention.

“Huh? What? Oh- Merry Christmas to you too!”

He said, but his attention quickly returned to the gifts. Wasn't long until everything was placed just right, and Percy was very proud of his organization. Emily got up and helped Toby finish cleaning up the living room. And finally, everything was done. Edward, James, and Nia exited the kitchen, and Edward was in awe.

“Oh, everything is beautiful!”

He beamed. The lights, the decorations, the tree, everything was perfect. James just smiled at Edward's reaction. The holidays were beautiful and all, but the best part of it was Edward's excitement for it, especially Christmas. His smile and the way the lights sparkled in his eyes, it made James' heart swell with joy. Suppose that is the point of Christmas after all. Nia joined Percy and Thomas, and Gordon and Henry returned from down the hall. They were in awe of the decorations as well. They sat down on the couch, James went to the kitchen to get a drink, and Thomas, Nia, Percy, and Toby struck up some conversation. And it all seemed to be right on time as they heard the doorbell ring.

“I’ll get it!”

Edward said, walking away with a bit of a pep in his step. Before he even opened the door he heard familiar chatter behind it. And once he opened it, it was a more than welcome sight. Duck, Oliver, Toad, Donald, and Douglas. Donald was first to enter.

“The party's here!”

He announced. Douglas shook his head before following. Edward just chuckled. Oliver and Toad entered afterwards.

“Thanks so much for inviting us, Edward.”

Oliver said.

“Of course, it wouldn't be the same without all of you. You're a part of the family.”

“Awe, thanks, Edward!”

Toad commented. Afterwards Oliver and Toad walked down the hall to the sitting room, where the twins were already getting rowdy. Duck was certainly more calm, stepping through the door and out of the cold before dusting the snow off of their suit.

“They already said it but, thank you again for inviting us, Eddie. I always look forward to this time of year because of your amazing party.”

They said, them and Edward sharing a hug.

“Well, it isn't just me. Everyone pitched in. I really only did a fraction of it, heh.”

“In that case, I think it's safe to say that the Tidmouth household throws the best Christmas parties.”

Said Duck, and it only made Edward's smile grow. Duck gestures down the hall for them to walk.

“Shall we get to it?”

Edward nodded in response.

“Absolutely.”

And the two walked down the hall, joining the chaos already rising in the sitting room.

Routine chaos and joy that happens every year, during truly one of the best times ever for the Steam Team. Everyone getting together on the lovely snowy night, the house gorgeously decorated and the food made perfectly. With movies and games to last the entire night, and presents and fun still to be had the next day.

Christmas at Tidmouth was always a joyous time.

[breelandwalker]

Xanodrian Beef Stew

This stew recipe was passed down to me by the Kitchen Goddess of Xanodria. (Glory be to the Provider of Nourishment, Wielder of the Wooden Spoon, She Who Wears The +5 Apron of Seasoning. Blessed are the fruits of her stove and blessed are we who sit at her table. In the name of the pasta, the stew, and the holy breakfast casserole, amen.)

And since it's a LARP kitchen, the process of bequeathing basically consisted of Dianne pausing in mid-stir to say, "I dunno, I just throw these six or seven things in a pot, add seasoning, and leave it alone until it's done. Go nuts."

Such simple words to describe the best beef stew you will ever eat.

Ingredients:

1 lb cubed stew beef (general rule: 1/4 lb per dinner guest)

1/2 lb bistec (optional, but it does make the texture more varied)

2 large potatoes, peeled and cubed (yellow or white)

1/2 large onion, minced (yellow or white)

10 oz bag frozen peas and carrots

10 oz bag frozen green beans

Several tsp minced garlic (at least 3)

Worchestershire sauce

Red wine (or beef stock)

Water

Beef bouillon cube

2 tbsp butter (if desired)

Seasonings - garlic powder, onion powder, salt, pepper, paprika, basil (or to taste)

In a dutch oven or medium stew pot, brown the beef until no pink is showing (about 2-3min), but do not cook the cubes all the way through. Remove the meat to a dish with a spoon, leaving the juices and fat in the pot. Sauté the minced onion and 2tsp of minced garlic in the drippings until the garlic is fragrant and the onions are slightly translucent. (If you like, you can throw in a tbsp of butter each for the browning and sauteing.) Deglaze with a generous cup of red wine (or beef stock), stirring to get all the brown bits off the bottom and sides.

Add in the frozen vegetables, cubed potatoes, and cooked beef, followed by 2 cups of water and a beef bouillon cube, stirring to combine. Add several dashes of Worchestershire sauce (and another splash of wine, if desired). Season to taste with salt, pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, basil, and another spoonful or two of minced garlic. (Or your seasoning blend of choice for beef and veggies.)

Stir until well-combined and let it come to a healthy bubble for about a minute. Then lower the heat to a simmer, put on a lid slightly off-kilter to vent a small amount of steam, and LEAVE IT. Allow to simmer, stirring very occasionally, for no less than two hours. Taste when stirring and adjust seasoning if needed. The stew is done when the potatoes are easily mashed, the beef falls apart when pressed with a wooden spoon, and your whole home smells like deliciousness.

Best served in bread bowls or over a slice of bread. Serves 4 people, or 2 with leftovers. Can be stretched with more vegetables or by serving over buttered noodles.

This is a super-simple recipe with very few components and very little skill required. If you can brown beef, put things in a pot, and add seasoning, and leave it alone, you can probably make this.

Enjoy! 😊🍲

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

Mama Claudia AU, In Comes Steve

"So when were you going to tell me that your stepbrother's trying to seduce my mom?" Dustin slammed his hands on the table Max and the rest of his friends were sat at inside Scoops Ahoy. The redhead choked on her milkshake at the accusation. Coughing and hacking as Lucas pat her on the back in an attempt to help her breath again.

"Excuse me? What?" Max asked incredulously, watching Dustin wedge himself in the booth on the other side next to Mike.

"Your brother. I came home to find him at my house with my mom doting on him!"

"Oh." The girl rolled her eyes. "For a minute I thought you actually saw them kissing or something."

"They might as well have! She was feeding him casserole!"

"She's been doing that for a couple of weeks dude." Mike said, semi annoyed as he grabbed some napkins out of the dispenser to wipe off the mess caused by Dustin shoving him.

"Weeks?" Dustin gaped.

"Yeah he keeps bringing leftovers in Tupperware home." Max added.

"Don't know why you're surprised." Lucas shrugged at his friend. "She's been doing it since you went to camp. You know how she gets."

Mrs. Henderson was famously overprotective. Mike's mom always mentioned something about Mr. Henderson being the reason she was like that but none of the kids understood what that meant. She drove Dustin, and subsequently them, everywhere. Joining the PTA, crossguard and almost anything else that involved her son. It was smothering sometimes but Dustin still loved her.

"Face it Dustin." Mike gave up on wiping the ice cream off as he turned to his friend. "You've been replaced."

"Shut your damn mouth." Dustin snapped and Mike defensively threw his hands up. "I have not been replaced. She was just lonely. But now I'm back and he can stop showing up."

"Nah little dude, I don't think it works that way." The group turned to see Steve leaning on the front counter, head on his palm. "Couldn't help but listen in and I kind of agree with Debbie Downer over there. Your mom is really attached to Billy. I saw her going through the JC Penny's clearance rack to buy some clothes for him. Asked her about and she said she wanted him to have something nice to wear for o-er, a date he was going on."

"Are you shitting me?"

"Can't say I am. Now are you going to actually buy anything or are you going to stick around all day and take up space like the rest of the shit birds?"

"Hey, we bought ice cream!" Mike protested as a timer on the counter behind Steve began to ring.

"And that's my break. Robin! Your turn to man the front counter." Steve called out as a girl came out from the back and the kids turned to each other when Dustin asked.

"Since when did Steve start to use the term 'shit bird'?"

~~

"Hey! No running!" Billy blew his whistle from where he was perched atop the lifeguard chair. God he hated Saturdays. Too many people thought the public pool was a free babysitting service, parents dropping their kids off and fucking off to wherever they wanted to go. They didn't even get paid to do it like with swim lessons.

"Hey blondie," a knock on his chair made the teen look down to see Heather leaning against the wooden tower, "your shift's over. Boyfriend's waiting for you outside."

"He's not my boyfriend." Billy said as he climbed down. Despite the oversized sunglasses, the blonde knew she was giving him a disbelieving look.

"Okay well your sugar daddy is parked in his BMW outside and still wearing his little sailor uniform so have fun with that. Meanwhile I'm going to be dealing with little Willy Horowitz who, despite having almost drowned twice this week, has yet again been abandoned by his father who is currently hitting on single moms at the pool side."

"Yeah, sucks to be you." Billy smirked as she flipped him off. Plus side of taking morning shifts was getting off just before shit started hitting the fan. Heading into the locker room, the boy punched in the time clock and he was officially off. Shrugging on his red jacket, Billy made his way out to the parking lot where Steve was indeed sitting in his new, white BMW. Waving to the blonde as he got in the passenger seat. "You're early." Billy glanced around to make sure there was no one else in the parking lot before leaning in for a kiss.

"Yeah, managed to convince Robin to let me take a longer break if I did all the closing duties."

"Really? Well I'll have to give her a personal thank you. How's she feel about tater tot casserole? Mrs. Henderson has once again given me far too many leftovers to actually eat." Steve snorted extremely loudly at this. "What?"

"Dustin stormed into Scoops Ahoy, shouting about how you were seducing his mom and getting her to make you food."

"Yeah. I know. He freaked out when he saw me yesterday." Billy revealed. Pulling out a cigarette and trying to light it before Steve snatched it out of his hand. "Hey!"

"What did I tell you about smoking in my car?" Steve asked as he put the car in gear before beginning to drive. "Besides that shit is bad for you. Gonna die early if you keep that up."

"Who says I don't want that?"

"Me, asshole." Billy laughed at how serious Steve sounded. "I'm serious, could you at least try the nicotine gum I gave you? Or...I could tell Mrs. Henderson about your nasty little habit."

"You wouldn't."

"I would. Come on, for me." Billy knew if Steve wasn't driving he'd be giving him the signature Harrington look. Big hazel doe eyes pleadingly looking up at his not so secret boyfriend. Even imagining it made Billy seemingly relent.

"Fine. I'll try it. But next date night? You'll have to do something special to convince me."

"Don't worry, I've got a few things planned."

[yarrystyleeza]

In A Heartbeat (M.M)

"I loved her, father, and her heartbeat was all it took for me to fall in love with her"

Taglist: @mindidjarin @acharliecoxedfan @v4leoftears @itwasthereaminuteago @munsonownsmyass @chvoswxtch @chronicoverachiever @bellaxgiornata @netflixmatt @netflixmatt-main

[series masterlist / main masterlist]

[Chapter One: The Weirdo Of Hell's Kitchen]

Word count: 7.4k, sorry I got carried away, hehe.

Warnings/tags for this chapter: brief mentions of trauma and mental illness, usage of pills, mentions/descriptions of deaths/gore/blood, religious themes, usage of alcoholic substances, violence, and guns like a cherry on top. Exchanged flirting might need a warning, too. ;)

A/N: I'm adding an intro to each chapter to give it an episode-vibe thing, sorry for writing so much but all this had to be included in the first chapter, because things are about to go down Hell.

He enters through the big ornamented wooden door, strolling down the long aisle between the hardwood oak pews.

The journey to the confessional feels like a lifetime of walking through hell. His heart was weighted with so much and, he couldn't endure it anymore, he has to get this heaviness off his chest.

He entered the booth, sliding the velvety curtain behind him, his hand hangs onto it for a bit. The darkness surrounds him. He usually didn't care, he couldn't see the sombre environing him anyway, but with the ponderousness of his guilt — it was suffocating him like the red curtain that hangs ten inches away from his face.

"forgive me father, for I have sinned," his husky voice cracks with a sob of guilt the moment he speaks, "I know it's been a while since I last confessed, I'm sorry." his fingers fidget along each other, feeling like groping for something not visible.

"Matthew... Glad to hear your voice again." father Lantom tried to lighten the air a little, he felt the lump forming in Matt's throat as he spoke. Matt doesn't respond to it, his focus was on the thoughts racing through his head like sport cars on the final lap.

"you may speak, you know that, Matthew," he gently responses to his silence. The knife twists a little deeper, he swallows. "there's this sin I have committed to awhile ago," the lump in his throat grows bigger, he feels the world spinning faster, "it's this lady I once heard on the street... She lives across from me, it's been a month since I came across her voice... It was something out of heaven," he recalls the sound of her laughter when it tore through the storm, the sound that made his blood flow in a different direction.

He sighs, a bit of laughter was in his tone, he remembers the day she was talking to Karen, how she laughed lightly at the jokes Karen told, how she sheepishly hangs onto her purse strap as she talked about how excited she was to finally get back to work, how her silky hair strands slipped over her coated shoulder like butter on a hot pan, how she tilts her head to get more anticipated in the conversation.

She felt like something out of this world, and his heart races everytime he thinks of her.

"I... I didn't mean to--" he swallows the heavy saliva in his throat, his eyes glistened behind the red blinds, "--eavesdrop her, but... But I couldn't stop myself from doing so," he takes the red tinted glasses off, a tear betrays him and wets his stubble, "she's strangely drawing me in... And I just--... I just couldn't have the strength to fight it back."

He remembers the night after, she got home after her final meeting at the bulletin, how she was exhausted, how she sobbed into her palms and no one was there to comfort her. But then her elderly neighbor comes over with a casserole dish and tries to cheer her up a little. They talked all night, like they didn't have anyone else to talk to.

He noticed how angelic she was with her neighbor, even though she was the one who is in trouble and is seeking comfort, she cared for the elderly woman's feelings, and tried to comfort her more.

"I never stopped listening... Her breathing was my night lullaby, the sound of her voice was what kept me going... I feel safe when I feel her safe..." he recalls the night she was making dinner at her place, how she softly moved around her kitchen, how she was sliding over the wooden tiles while cooking as if it was a dance or casting a spell.

"I know that my doings are wrong, but I felt alive for the first time when I heard her heart, she was a spark, and I was waiting for this spark..." her laughter rings between his ribs, louder than a mind can ever be.

"I'm trying to get closer to her, she's coming tomorrow morning for an interview at my office, and I need to be there... I have to... It's the only chance I'll ever get, maybe then I'd stop... I wish I could stop... I don't want to push her away, I feel like need her-- like the air I breathe, I'm trying to find a way to be around her without scaring her away," he stays silent for a brief moment, "she's so important to me in a way I can't describe."

It was the long peeps that wiped the sleep off her eyes — declaring that it's 6 in the morning, her phone buzzed and hummed, she lazely slid the button to stop the alarm, and lifted her otiose head off the warm fluffy pillows. She took the cozy cotton sheets off her body, to which she trembled in reflex to the morning's fresh breeze, she shuffled to the edge of her bed and got up, stretched her arms up to meet the air, goosebumps ran across the skin of her limbs.

Checking her phone, the calendar notified her about her new job's application day, something that she prepared herself for — for more than a month, both physically and mentally; she misses investigating cases and going on field work, as she previously worked as a detective for the NYPD, she'd always had the passion, but fear took place in her heart, and made her stop chasing her always cherished pursuit.

But today is different, that fear no longer exists in her heart, as she has learned that sometimes the person has to be daring in order to achieve their goal, whether it's the easy way or the hard way. She definitely is nervous, but who isn't when it comes to being back in the field after years of quitting and regret?

She made her way out of her room, raking through her long chocolaty wavy locks, rubbing her scalp to freshen her head. She took her spring pajamas off and went under the shower head, allowing the warm water make contact with her skin, and remove the rest of sleepiness clinging on her almond eyelids.

After applying lavender shampoo and floral shower gel, she got herself a quick rinse and left the tub, dried her body with her big white towel, and her hair with the air dryer. added moisturizers to her skin and hair. She walked back to her room, and put on the new outfit she bought for her first day, a pastel reddish-pink satin blouse and a short black leather skirt. the weather wasn't really cold, but a coat on her arm would do it.

She painted her cat-liners on her almond honey eyes with a sharp brush, colored her lips with a reddish lipstick, and applied rogue powder over her cheeks. She did her dark locks quickly, let it lie over her back, with a strand of her bangs gathered onto the side of her head with a little shiny hairclip. She finished her look with a couple sprays of her favorite sugary perfume, added a pair of little pearly earrings, put on her black high heels, and her little black purse.

She took her phone off the charger and left her room, to be greeted by her three year old white cat, "good morning, Ivy! " she mewed and purred, aimed headbutts at her legs. She caressed her fur and took her to settle over her shoulder.

"you must be so hungry, aren't you, my lil' baby? Aren't you?... There you go," she cooed, emptied the remaining dried food into the cat's bowl, to which she rushed to the ground and started munching on her morning meal.

"dang... I'll get you more on my way home, I promise." She cleaned the water bowl and filled it with fresh water, cuddled her cat's back as she ate.

She stood up and walked all the way to the kitchen, aimed her hands to the cupboards, her fingertips danced over the mugs and jars, searching for the jar of instant espresso she had bought recently. She poured the hot water into her favorite mug, after applying the double shot. She had her morning coffee with two little muffins she had baked last night. She washed her cup, kissed her cat goodbye, and left her apartment.

"good morning, Mrs Vincent!" she greeted her elderly Italian neighbor.

"aww, well good morning, my love, you're heading to the new office, aren't you?" she gave her a quick embrace.

"yes ma'am, I am. Can I ask you a favor? If you ever heard Ivy scratching on the door take her to your place, she doesn't like to feel alone," she entreated.

"oh, that little demon, she's my favorite girl in this building, I love her company!" she exclaimed with an accent-twisted tongue, patting her shoulder.

"thank you, Mrs Vincent!" she hugged her and rushed down the stairs.

"don't forget to tell me what happens on your first day, my love!" the elderly lady called, "don't worry, I won't forget!"

She rushed out of the building, feet barely touching the concrete sidewalk, the smell of fresh green trees flirted with her soul, as the music streamed through her earbuds, and the breeze fluttered her hair playfully. She marched confidently through the streets of Hell's Kitchen, after a long time of not feeling so, after what seemed like eternity, she finally feels alive.

The last couple of years were hard for this city, everyone went through black and blue, and she was no exception, the state of this city — and her own state —were too much than she could bare, but luckily, she made it alive out of the dark.

From bribes within the FBI, to the fall of Midland Circle, to the weird Japanese cults indulging their most satanic desires within the heart of the city, and all the way to Fisk's overpower on businesses —accompanied by the Russian mob, the Chinese mafia, and the yakuza. It was a heavy weight to bare.

This city has been cursed, plagued with cancer for almost half a decade now, but luckily, there were people who stood up and defended it, loyal cops, street gangs, and even normal people, everyone tried to help and defend, besides the night vigilantees, who were always watching, welling to utilize every opportunity to protect their home.

"Foggy... Foggy... Foggy... Foggy..." the phone buzzed, he wiggled out of his silky sheets to reach for his phone.

"good morning, sleeping beauty, how's things?" his friend spoke cheerfully — the moment he picked the call.

"Foggy... It was-- rough... Yeah," he groaned as he sat straight over his mattress.

"your voice doesn't sound well, how was it?" his friend was worried.

"I... I couldn't catch him... I wasn't concentrated enough... I should've-- ah!! Jesus!! " he growled, holding onto his side where he received a good punch.

"take it easy, buddy, you can take the day off, you're your own boss! Plus, we're already done with that trial, you don't really need to be around today," his friend suggested.

"no, Foggy, no, I... I have to come over to the office, specially today... We're applying a new colleague, remember?..." he rubbed his face to freshen the blood in his face.

"oh, miss Mayfield? Yeah, she's coming over today, supposedly it's her first day back on duty... You would've liked her, she's hot," he stood off his bed and dragged his feet out of his room.

"yeah, I-- I already missed the interview last time..." he chuckled as he went through the kitchen, filled a glass with water, and took two painkiller capsules.

"umm... Friendly reminder? you were almost dead the night before, we dragged you out of a trash container, of course you wouldn't be able to be here to meet her--... Listen, I gotta go, Marci's calling, see ya!" his friend hung up.

He suspired, left the phone on the counter, and went straight to the bathroom, took the rest of last night's clothes off, and went under the shower head. He ached as the warm water streamed over his bruised skin, he rubbed the loofah to his muscles, helping the pain to soothe.

He left the shower and wrapped his lower body with a towel, then walked back to his bedroom. A scent has caught the attention of his nostrils, a feminine scent, so youthful, so lovely. It was the exact same scent that caught his attention a couple months ago, he's never interacted with the woman who owned that special scent, but it kept on capturing his care ever since. She smelled so green, full of life, like fresh lavenders, like a garden with overgrown roses and lilies, like a spring flower carnival walking down the road.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The edges of his mouth stretched into a smile — as he heard her pumping muscle jump in her ribcage, chirped restlessly like early birds, she was excited, a little nervous, but she was confident, her heart couldn't hide it. His 8 o'clock alarm buzzed, disrupted his heed, he cocked his head at his phone and huffed, turned the alarm off, and headed to his bedroom.

He opened his closet, walked his feelers over the dotted tagged hangers. He picked a dark navy blue suit, a white shirt, and a black tie. He put his outfit on, combed his hair, and added a little bandage on the edge of his left eyebrow. He wore his braille watch, put on his socks and shoes, took his sight-aid cane, briefcase, and phone — off the coffee table, donned his red tinted glasses, and headed out of his apartment.

She made it to the law firm by 8:30, which is usually when they start opening. She walked up the stairs and knocked on the wooden door, stared at the sign as she waited for the door to open. Nelson, Murdock and Page, she's finally teaming up with one of the most popular legal crews in New York, and one that is so interesting, too.

"Madilyn! How's it going?" her friend greeted with a hug — right after she had opened the door. "I'm doing great, Karen, thanks, I hope you too are okay," she answered with a tone of staidness but more cheerful.

"Mr Nelson, how are you?" she shook his hand. "I am doing more than well, miss Mayfield, we're more than happy to see you here again, and we are honored to have such a wonderful person like you on our team..." his smile was shiny the way his short blonde waves were.

"glad I got to be on a team like yours, I've always admired your work and achievements in the legal field, and having a friend of mine on your team is something that doubled my interest," she smiled confidently.

"well, it's our team now, we'll show you how we work things in this majestic office," her friend gestured, they share a laugh, and walk into the meetings room.

She took a seat on the door side, next to her friend's, Karen, who took off to the kitchen. "how does it feel to be back on duty again? I never really stopped my legal work... I really wanna know how it was," Foggy asked with eyes full of curiosity, she sighed and smiled.

"well, it's not really great... if I'm being honest with you, specially when you were so delirious about having this certain job... I guess Karen told you that we worked together on the Bulletin, it was the safest choice to stay close enough to the field, I wanted to go back and fight my own fight, but I wasn't ready to be outside yet," her friend brought in mugs of hot herbal drinks.

"back on my days at the department I mostly worked on missing files, children not going home after school, elderly losing their way home, young ladies, you know, the normal missing cases... One day we woke up to corpses being found randomly around Hell's Kitchen, someone was spreading terror in the house, and I had no idea who he is or what's his purpose of all of this..." her grip on the chamomile tea mug has strengthened, fingers fidgeting around the rim.

"luckily he was caught, but I wasn't there when they did, I was terrified, I didn't even know why I was... I know my job has the highest possibility of finding people dead but... I couldn't watch it... My body ached, restlessly in bed every night after seeing all this blood and slaughtering around my own neighborhood, getting closer and closer to my own place... I cried every night, praying that this would end as swift as possible... It did, but I couldn't go back to where I was, I tried therapy, medication, but the moment I see the department I just get flashbacks of their horrified faces," a couple of tears left the rims of her lids, she wiped them off with trembling hands.

"sorry, I got carried away," she sniffled, took a big sip of her drink, avoiding eye contact, her friend soothed her shoulder. "it's okay, I'm sorry... I scratched your wound," he apologized.

"no, no, it's okay, I'm not scared of it anymore, I just... feel pity for them, but I'm glad our city has people who protect it... the devil of Hell's Kitchen... he always does his best to make sure everyone's safe in their homes," she reassured herself first.

"yeah, yeah, he is," he repeats, being friends with the devil of Hell's Kitchen himself, he knows.

"um, where's the bathroom?" she stood off her seat. "you're okay? need me with you?" Karen held her wrist. "yeah, yeah, I'm fine, Karen, don't worry," she assured her, patted her grip, "it's by the kitchen's hall," she walked out of the room, aiming straight to the bathroom door.

She entered and locked herself in, stood still in front of the mirror. She took the container out of her purse, doubting her decision to take an emergency pill to help her calm down a little, she knows it doesn't help her that much, but the urge was stronger than her will.

"no, no, you don't need that, you're stronger than this," she stared back at her reflection, swallowed the hardened saliva stuck at the back of her throat, she tucked the container back inside. She showered her face with an abundant amount of water, then used paper towels to dry it up, her heartbeat softened again, she exhaled in relief.

His footsteps were heavy as he stomped up the stairs, every single muscle in his body was aching after the fight he endured last night, his mind stormed in rage with all the moves he could've taken, clouts he could've dodged, punches he could've aimed, things he could've done, he regretted every single decision he took last night. He would've been better if it didn't go that way last night, or so he thought.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The vigor tickings has caught his tympanum, he realized, the youthful scent it was, the woman he admired it was, she's finally here, a couple footsteps away from him, only a single swoosh of the door away — and he would finally get to meet her. A swing he made, and the warmth she brought was there.

She sighed and opened the bathroom door — to be met by a brunette gentleman, he might be 6 ft tall, enveloped by an elegant-looking suit. He held a briefcase in one hand, and a sight aid cane in the other. His hair was flowing perfectly over his head, and his ruby red tinted glasses were too obvious to be blanked, but his sweet tooth smile was the thing that caught her attention.

"may I help you, sir?" she aimed herself at him with a question.

"no, thanks, I... I work here," he answered with a soft chuckle.

"oh, I'm sorry, you must be Mr Murdock, I wasn't lucky to meet you the other day," she took his hand and shook it, he nodded with a grin. "it's me, you must be miss Mayfield, correct me if I'm wrong," she chuckled, shook her head, gestured her shoulders. "so what they call me, I guess," he grinned.

"I've been told that you were coming today so I had to be here to meet you," he still had his calloused hand folded around hers, intoxicated by the tenderness of her skin, a great contrast to his hardened wounded one. "that's an honor for me, Mr Murdock..." she curtsied.

"please call me Matt," she nodded. "then I must ask you to call me Madilyn," she was mastered when it came to holding conversations.

He freed the fold he held around her hand, "sorry for the long hold, I get to know people by touch," he explained, held a nervous chuckle at the end of his throat, with shaking hands he fixed his glasses.

"it's fine, it didn't bother," his heart fluttered restlessly in his ribcage, listening to her ticker. "I-- I think it's cute? feeling everything around you, getting to know the world by how it feels and not how it looks... You know, sometimes appearances are a little tricky," she continued, snapping her fingers as if she's throwing a spell.

"sorry, I--... I talk a lot and my mind is always thinking about all and everything and--" she chuckled, it went like silk through his ears.

"it's okay, I-- I think you're right," his grin widened, almost reaching to the edges of his face.

"I think it's a smart people's trait, restless mind... When Karen mentioned that you worked together before and how you were always dedicated to your work I knew I was certain that we chose the right person to join our team... you know, we needed a legal investigator and you were on the top of our list..." he had to keep the conversation going, a loud blush went over her face, her eyes widened.

"well, I-- um... That's-- that's an honor for me... Thank you, really," her smile broadened lavishly.

"Madilyn? You're oka-- of course it's you, Matt!" Karen marched out of the meeting room, but her face was soon delighted, she was followed by Foggy not long after.

"guess you got to meet the pretty lady!" Foggy exclaimed.

"oh, um-- thank you, Mr Nelson?" Madilyn was flustered, a little embarrassed too, her eyebrows went high over her honey irises.

"Foggy believes that Matt is always able to find beautiful women even without being able to see them, it's like he senses them," Karen explained as she giggled. "but now I think he attracts them like he's a walking magnet," Foggy explained further, Madilyn's face went red.

"forgive my friends, they're idiots," Matt tried to hide how embarrassed he was. "oh, come on, Matt, don't act like you don't!" Foggy yelled, Karen giggled. "Foggy, you-- know I can't--" his face went red the way his scarlet glasses were, he raised his face to face the ceiling.

"come on, take it easy on him, guys, it's not his fault if girls think he's handsome, right? " Madilyn defended, with a red face, holding back a chuckle. Matt tilted his head in her direction with a smile, Foggy and Karen exploded in giggles and tears.

"alright, alright, this was awkward, I was joking, now let's get serious. Mr Lloyd's case folders arrived this morning, I made you a copy," Foggy said after swallowing his giggles, aiming his speech to Matt. "great, let's go check it!" he cheered. Karen led the path, followed by Foggy.

"may I?" Madilyn asked, aiming to hold his arm, "sure," Matt smiled.

And how soft she wrapped her palm around his upper arm, she made his pumper throb in his chest, as her perfume took care of the rest of him, enchanted his soul unmercifully, with only a slight touch of her fingertips, he knew for sure that he deeply fell.

She guided him to the seat next to his friend, Foggy, who slided the braille version folder in front of him the moment he settled down, "here's your version!" he cheered, "thanks, Foggs!" he smiled and aimed his attention to the folder under his tips... Well, not his full attention, because Matt couldn't stop listening to Madilyn's fervored heartbeat, how it tick-tocked excitedly in her ripcage, how the adrenaline raced through her veins, inflammation rushing betwixt her blood cells.

"Madilyn?" she was so wrapped up in her reading process that she clipped out of reality, after hours of reading and scanning.

"huh?" she raised her head, confused about who had called her. "would you mind reading Mr Lloyd's statement for me? I think there are some unclear indications..." Matt asked gently.

"Mr Lloyd? Oh, oh... Oh, I guess I just passed this one--" she stuttered, shuffling through the pile of papers in front of her.

"here it is!... It states as following... Mr Lloyd went to bed at 11 pm, he heard some muffled jiggles outside his room so he went to check it out. He was met with a tough looking guy, 'bigger than to fit through the doorframe', he stood in all black clothing, the man told him that he's not here for him and that he'd 'better back off' or that he'll 'end up in the nursery house or 6 feet under' as he had his hand on the holster... Mr Lloyd tried to fight back but the guy swooshed him to the wall, he hit his head and fell unconscious... When he got back from the hospital he found that his furniture was destroyed and... His secret military files were missing... That's all I have scripted." Madilyn read serenely, looked up at him, Matt nodded and smiled.

"thanks, Madilyn, it seems pretty fine to me, sorry for disturbing your work," he knew nothing was wrong with his braille prints, maybe it was an excuse to listen to her voice. He responded, to which she exhaled a chuckle "no need to," smiled, and dived back between the lines.

Hours has passed, and night has fallen, the firm didn't have any clients meetings for the day — which came in their interest, spending the day on such a case. Madilyn considered her first day as successful, she hadn't done things like that in a long time, and being able to gain some info in such a short time was something she would absolutely brag about for the next three months.

She started packing her files and pens, collected her belongings back into the purse, went to her office and organized her desk. "Madilyn, we were thinking..." Karen started, stood by the doorframe, Foggy and Matt squeezed themselves next to her, "what about we go celebrate? Josie's?" she continued. "okay... Yeah, let's go!" Madilyn cheered.

They cleaned the place in minutes and left right after. "maybe we should get a snack on our way," Karen suggested, tilted her head to look back at Matt and Foggy.

"yup! What should we pick?" Foggy cheered, "I guess we should let Madilyn decide so," Matt gestured with his cane.

Madilyn turned as she interlocked arms with Karen, "me? I don't know... Cheese puffs, maybe?" she tucked her locks behind her ear, as they continued on walking, "that sounds good, a whole jar of cheese puffs," Matt agreed. They passed by the market and bought their snacks, then continued on their way to the bar.

"welcome to our secret lair," Foggy yelled as he opened the door, "it's not really a secret, half of Hell's Kitchen is here," he whispered, they all chuckle as they make their way to the counter, Madilyn took the remote seat next to Karen, while Foggy and Matt sat on Karen's right side.

"three of the cheapest German beer and... what are you picking, miss Mayfield?" Foggy asked.

"no, no, thanks, I don't drink," she smiled, shook her head.

"wait, what? You stopped drinking? Wow, congrats, Maddie, you were suffering with it," Karen cheered as she hugged her friend.

"well... yeah, it was really hard to do so... but I guess I needed to do it for a fresh start," Madilyn fidgeted in her seat.

"but you should have something with us! We should celebrate this!" Karen said. "maybe we could get you soda or cola..." Matt suggested, Foggy nodded.

"I guess I'm okay with soft drinks... A Cola is fine," Madilyn said, "aight! Three German beers and one glass of cola for our newest member on the team, detective Mayfield!" Foggy ordered, Karen cheered and clapped.

Their drinks arrived, so did the topics they drifted about. "so you're saying that you've never really been to a private party?" Foggy exclaimed, taking a shot of the third round of the night, "not exactly but... I don't like being in crowded places, but you know... Here's different. There's so much warmth in this place... Ever since I attended the first private party I've never felt comfortable, people are a bunch of fake faces, they smile at you but the moment you turn they eat you alive... And I didn't want to be in a place terrible like that." her glass swayed in her hand as she spun the ice in her cola, "yeah, you're right, they are fake. I've seen a lot of these people and I can tell that you perfectly described them," Foggy affirmed, Karen nodded.

"but that doesn't mean I haven't met some nice people there... I mean, maybe because we met in some certain situations, maybe I wouldn't have liked them," Madilyn shrugged, taking a sip of her glass.

"I gotta head to the toilet," Foggy jumped out of his seat, "yeah, me too, I'm filled, what about you, Maddie?" Karen followed, "no, I'm good, thanks love," they patted each other's arms, Karen walked to the restroom alongside Foggy in seconds.

Matt sat silent, too silent, he usually loved to listen to his friends talking, but now he was only listening to Madilyn's heart flutter as she spoke with excitement, how her vocal chords rang as she burst a laugh, how she lost her breath after giggling for too long, how she sighed and how she chuckled, — he only listened, wore the brightest smile on his face, maybe because he was experiencing something new, something he surely haven't felt in a long time, a certain feeling he might have promised himself not to feel again, but here he is, two chairs apart.

He was too overwhelmed with thought that he didn't notice that she took a seat next to him, "why are you sitting so alone?" Madilyn cooed, head slanted to the side, dark locks slipped off her shoulder like butter on a hot pan, curious honey irises shining brighter than flames, and a concerned smile she wore.

He didn't know what to say, "alright, you're being mysterious, aren't you?" she scoffed, trying to get him to speak, he chuckled, "you could say I like listening," he wore a smile, she hummed, arched her eyebrows, "and how was the podcast so far?" she kept going, "good." his answer was too short for her to take, but she silently smiled back, and ordered another glass of cola.

"I've read through your biography, I must say that I'm truly impressed," Matt said, breaking the ice, she turned in her seat to look at him. "you did a lot at a very young age, most people on your field were double your age when they achieved your success, I've also heard that you were wanted for many private investigation offices, that makes us so lucky to have you on our team," it was her turn to smile and stay silent.

"but... I stupidly stopped..." she sighed and looked into her half-filled glass, "no, I think you were... just scared... Sometimes fear is just as good as courage, you feared for your life... but... Now you're back on the road, and soon enough... you'd be back on the NYPD cast if they got too jealous of us and offered you double the price," she chuckled.

"I don't think I'd go back to the department ever again," her voice went dull, she avoided looking at him, maybe she was embarrassed of herself, "well, let's make a bet on that," she shook her head, chuckled, "you can't be serious!" she rolled her eyes.

"I'm not detective Mayfield from the NYPD anymore, in and out, I barely got my license renewed," she continued, "well.. you know your worth, detective, but I believe that you still have a part of her inside you, you're just waiting for the right time," he shrugged, "hey, mister, did you just convince me? Because it worked!" she chortled, "well... I guess I still have my charm," he swaggered, "shut up!" she giggled.

Time has already passed midnight, but they were still at the counter, getting refills of their drinks and working their tongues, from sports and politics to childhood pets, to how many exes each had, they jumped between topics in an obvious non-stop motion.

"so I'm kinda more into boxing, but I stopped doing that too," she was speaking, playing with an ice cube in her mouth, "yeah, boxing is way cooler than-- wait... Where are Foggy and Karen?" he interjected, she took a look around her, it's been more than half an hour, and they hadn't shown up yet, "you're right... Where are they? " she took her phone out of her purse, called Karen right away, but she didn't answer. "wait, I'll call Foggy," he gestured with his forehand, took his phone out, and dialed his friend's number.

"yeah, Matt, what's up?..." Foggy answered, "where are you two?" he was worried, "Karen had some things to do and she needed me to walk her home, so..." Matt sighed, Madilyn wore a concerned look, "alright, um... Just-- just take care of yourselves, okay?..." he rubbed the bridge of his nose, "sure, Matt... You too..." he hung up.

Madilyn took the last sip of her drink, "what time is it now?" she yawned, looking at her phone, it was almost to one in the morning, "I guess we need to go home," she picked her purse as she stood off the stool chair, rummaged through her purse for cash, "thank you, Josie, keep the change--" Matt stopped her, "wait, Josie, add it to the bill," she smiled and continued on drying the glasses, "thanks," Madilyn smiled, he shook his head, "it's nothing... I'm gonna go to the restroom..." he gestured, "it's okay, I'll wait," she interrupted with a slight chuckle.

Madilyn walked out of the bar, stood by the glass door and waited, thinking about how her day went, in less than 24 hours she made 2 relationships with new people, she got back to the job she loved, and spent good time with her new friends. Matt interrupted her thoughts, wrapped his palm around her upper arm, she flinched.

"sorry for scaring you, I thought I called you once," he cooed, she smiled, "it's okay, I-- I wasn't really concentrated... My bad." she fired back, he grinned.

"do you usually walk home alone? I don't mean to be nosy but I just thought-- " her hands moved around nervously, "no, no, nothing nosy, it's fine... I still remember my way home, kept it in the back of my head since I was nine..." he gestured with his stick.

"was it an accident? Your sight..." she slipped her question, "yeah, chemicals," he sighed with a smile, she hummed, "I guess that must've been a hard time for you as a kid," her voice was tinted with grief, "it's okay, I got used to pain," he took his ruby red glasses off.

Two beautifully wide eyes stared blankly back at her, irises of pure hazel sparkled to the dim lights of the streets, lined by a frame of long dark lashes. So innocent, yet so deep and mysterious, they had so much beauty in them, yet there were drops of tragedy hiding between the shades.

She gazed for long, maybe longer than she thought she did, long enough to remember the dreaminess in his eyes, her heart ticked loudly through his eardrums, her cheeks radiated heat as they grew blushy, and her skin felt muggy, she knew for sure she didn't need her coat on.

"I-- um... Where do you live? Maybe I can offer you a walk home..." she tried to collect herself, "the old police department..." he answered, furrowed his eyebrows, "what! you're not serious! That's exactly the street crossing mine!" she exclaimed, "I wonder why I never met you there before..." she cooed, "I... I don't know... Badly we didn't get a chance to meet before today," oh, it was, "yeah, that was bad, but I guess I got to have new neighbors now," she cheered, his smile widened to the butterflies she spoke.

He put his tinted glasses back on, unfolded his cane — as they stepped off the sidewalk, the spring breeze was a little colder tonight, despite how hot it was midday. The clouds gathered over the city, and soon, they cried all over the streets, showering all and everything on the roads.

"you like the rain?" she lounged, let the water slip through her hair, "I have a fond of it," he stopped as she did, both rose their noses to the sky, "good choice of words... I love it, too..." she took a deep breath, closed her eyes with a wide smile, as the clouds' warm teardrops tumbled over her skin, her heartbeat was steady, calm, yet she was drowned with joy.

"the best feeling of all... You feel your soul sanctified from all the pains that once took a home of your body, a message from heavens to remove your remorse and foretelling you of a close redemption." Oh, it was a message from heavens to you, Matthew, maybe it is the time for you to finally find happiness. A wide smile grew over his face, wide enough to deepen the dimples on his cheeks.

"you're catholic?" he asked, she looked back at him, "I don't know... But I truly loved going to church every Sunday. You?" she raked through her dampened hair. "yes. I am." he answered, kept the smile on. She hummed, her eyebrows grew like rainbows over her honeyed eyes. "catholic boys are good, I've always liked them... always clean and neat... and their hair is always well-done," she liked one of them when she was a little girl, realized it was really her type of men years later. She threw a quick eye at him, he grinned at her, both chuckled.

The skies thundered, soon the tears turned into loud yaups, it was raining dogs and cats. She took her heels off. They sprinted their way home, in fear of catching a cold on this capricious weather... And ruining the cases files.

In about fifteen minutes, they were by her building's entry, completely soaked in water. They took a shelter in, giggling at what they just got through, their lungs respired the hot air fiercely, they panted for air as their hearts fluttered out of their ribcages.

"guess I ruined my new outfit... And hair, " she stated as she squeezed her hair to dry it, after throwing her heels down.

"I guess you would still look great, Madilyn," he answered, taking off his glasses to fluff the water off his hair, staring blankly in her direction. The lights did their job tonight, she could see him clear as day. His cheeks are reddened, and his breath is unsettled, his lashes fluttered as the rays of light made its way to illume the brownies of his eyes, his lips bloomed as he moistened their rims, he followed with a smile she could swear it was the devil's; it settled deeply into her heart, and made it pound faster and louder.

"ummm... can I walk with you to work tomorrow morning? Maybe as an act of appreciation?" she suggested, he nodded.

"if you're strong enough to carry my dead body, then yes... I'm just kidding." he said with a straight face, then chuckled, she did too, but she was a little bit worried.

"oh? alright?... Ummm, goodnight, then, Mr Murdock? " she rubbed the skin of her neck, "just Matt, please, no need for surnames." he smiled at her, staring right at her, and she kept her gaze at him, too; he's weird —no doubt— but he's nice.

How long she looked into his eyes — she realized, she didn't blink once, something was so interesting, magical, yet so cryptic about them, keeping her from looking away for a split second. The vastness of a deer's eyes, the gloominess of a praying sinner, the darkness of a deep ocean, but the beauty of a secret garden, waiting for someone to search them.

"alright... Goodnight, Matt." that made a tick in her chest, a loud ring betwixt her valve walls, the moment she spelled his name, a cold shiver ran across her limbs, she wasn't sure if it was the weather anymore.

"goodnight, Madilyn." he nodded with a soft smile, "I'll see you tomorrow!" she called as he turned away, walked steadily under the rainfall, "looking forward for that!" he yelled back. She picked her heels up and walked up the stairs, unlocked her door and stepped inside.

"shit, I forgot the dry food!" she rubbed the bridge of her nose, her cat was fast asleep, luckily, but still, she has to feed her. She walked into the kitchen, picked a pack of frozen sausages and left it to steam in the cooking machine.

She got into the bathroom as she stripped herself from the soddened fabrics, turned the shower tap on, and got under the warm water. She heard a loud woosh, so close to her ear to ignore, it sounded like the swoosh her bedroom door always makes, the friction between the door slides — soon followed by a loud hiss, Ivy! — she was growling as if she was scared!

Madilyn left the shower quickly, rushed as she wrapped herself in a towel, put on her slippers and quietly slid the door open. As she skulked her way out of the bathroom, she snatched a knife off the kitchen counter, watching a dark figure slowly marching towards one of the windows, her eyes darted for her phone, it's not even close to her.

"stand right there!" she shouted, aimed the knife straight forward in a threatening position. It stopped. Then turned... A large masculine body, covered all in black, bigger than to fit through the doorframe.

"listen here... I'm not here for you... So you better stand back..." his deep voice was surely out of breath. She recalled it, the same physical description, the same sentence, might it be the same person? Madilyn didn't want to bet on it.

"what are you doing in my house?" despite how terrified she was, her words were steady, and her voice was silvery. "this has nothing to do with you--" he repeated, "what the fuck are you doing in my house?! Why are you here?!" she yelled, louder than she thought she was capable of.

His fingertips grope his gun, "don't you even think about it!! Put your hand down!!" she growled, "I already called the cops, they'll be here in no time, so you better start talking!" she didn't, but that's best solution she had.

"you don't know what you're dealing with..." he said, calmly, but creepy enough to send the goosebumps running across her body. "but I know one thing... You picked the wrong house," she aimed her knife at him, still making distance in between. But, he kept moving closer. And the next thing she knew was getting strangled by him, she kicked his knees and threw herself to the ground, taking a run right after, "stay quiet! I told you to stay quiet!" he caught her dampened locks in his grasp.

"now listen here, young lady, you're gonna let me go away, you're never gonna see me again, or if you kept fighting back, you might be sent six feet under." his hot breath streamed through her eardrum, with company of a deep rough tone.

"you're not going anywhere."

END NOTES:

The confessional entry is one month into the events, Foggy later mentions that night and how Matt was too wasted to join them at the interview after failing a fight the same night he mentioned Madilyn to father Lantom for the first time. Still, Foggy doesn’t know anything about Madilyn from Matt's side, he only knows that she is their new colleague. I also forgot to mention that Madilyn starts working at the firm at the beginning of spring (maybe March or April, I really don't know) while Matt's first encounter of her was back in January, almost at the beginning of the year. Madilyn starts her first day, YAY, wow, everything is great, nothing out of the ordinary. Then there's this strange case they're working on, the weird disappearance of military files, followed by the strange man who appears in her house looking for the same thing. Military files in Madilyn's house? What could they be doing there anyway? Matt shows up to save the day, don't worry besties, we're all saved and secured. Also, they are throwing flirts everywhere, it's crowding the room, and they got along so well. They also realize that they're actually neighbors, which comes in their advance later. Madilyn is drowning in Matt's eyes while he's indulging with the rhythm of her heart. Perfect match? Well, maybe? But maybe they understood things differently. After all, this is their very first night meeting, and things might take a different turn.

[previous / next]

[iceeericeee]

I’m just gonna… drop this here rq… *runs off to the middle distance*

Miner’s Pie

Serves 4-6

Ingredients:

Filling:

1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil

1 yellow onion, chopped

1 large leek, white and light green parts, halved lengthwise and cut into 3/4 - inch pieces

1 bay leaf

Kosher salt

2 pounds ground beef

3 garlic cloves, finely chopped

2 teaspoons finely chopped fresh thyme

4 tablespoons tomato paste

3 tablespoons all purpose flour

1/2 cup ale, such as IPA

1 cup low-sodium chicken broth

3/4 cup frozen corn, thawed

3/4 cup frozen peas, thawed

1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

Freshly ground black pepper

Topping:

3 pounds russet potatoes, peeled, cut into 1-inch chunks, and rinsed well

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

2/3 cup whole milk (or half-and-half, for a richer taste)

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

1/3 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

2 eggs, beaten

3/4 cup coarsely grated Monterey Jack or Colby Cheese

Instructions:

Make the filling:

In a very large skillet over medium heat, warm the olive oil until shimmering.

Add the onion, leek, bay leaf, and 1/2 teaspoon of salt and cook, stirring frequently, until softened, about 4 minutes.

Add the ground beef and cook, stirring and breaking up any clumps, until no longer pink, about 10 minutes.

Add the garlic, thyme, and tomato paste and cook, stirring constantly, until fragrant, about one minute.

Adjust the heat to medium, add the flour, and cook, stirring constantly, for 1 to 2 minutes, until the flour is completely blended in.

Add the Ale, broth, and 3/4 teaspoon of salt.

Adjust the heat to high and bring to a simmer, using a wooden spoon to scrape the bottom of the skillet to loosen and dissolve any browned bits stick to the pan, until the filling is thickened but still saucy, about 15 minutes.

Add the corn and the peas and set the skillet aside, off the heat to cool slightly.

Remove the bay leaf, add most of the parsley, and stir to mix.

Taste and adjust the seasoning with additional salt, if necessary, and pepper to taste.

Scrape the mixture into a broiler-safe 2-quart casserole dish, spread evenly, and set aside.

Preheat the oven to 450* F with a rack in the upper-middle of the oven.

Make the topping:

Put the potatoes in a large pot filled 3/4 of the way with water.

Boil until potatoes come apart easily when poked with a fork, about 20 minutes.

Pour the potatoes into a strainer in the sink, and when the water has been drained completely, put potatoes into a large bowl.

Mash the potatoes with a potato masher thoroughly.

Add the melted butter and stir it into the potatoes.

Add the milk, 1 1/2 teaspoons salt, pepper to taste, and the Parmesan cheese and stir to incorporate.

Taste and adjust the seasoning with additional salt and pepper, if necessary, and set aside to cook for about 20 minutes.

Add the eggs to the potatoes and stir to incorporate.

Spoon the potatoes over the filling, spreading them evenly and making sure they reach to the edges of the casserole dish.

Sprinkle evenly with the Monterey Jack.

Place the dish on a large baking sheet and bake until the filling is heated through and the potatoes are puffed slightly, about 20 minutes.

Take out of the oven, and sprinkle with the remaining parsley and serve hot.

@heathcliffgirl1847 I hope you still have those leeks. If not, then that’s alr.