#also I’ve actually never made a stir fry before and I think this was a very good intro

[good-night-space-kid]

if you like rice and egg, might I suggest filipino breakfast? it's usually Sinangag, or garlic fried rice, that's made with day-old rice fried in oil and garlic + a fried egg, cooked until the sides are crispy but the yolk is still gooey + a viand of your choice (typical filipino breakfasts would be like. a hotdog, or some filipino style cornbeef, or fried lil fish called dilis, or some fried squid, or some tinapa, another kind of fish, but you can add whatever you like! the rice is the star of the show anyway)

It has taken me a while, but today I finally had the chance to make this! I looked up some recipes online for reference, but I don’t think I added enough garlic so it didn’t have enough flavor so I did end up adding some soy sauce which I didn’t see in the recipes I was looking at, but didn’t seem too far out there. It’s really tasty!!

The meat is deer marinated then simmered in a Thai braising sauce that I had laying around which I think goes very well with the rice. I don’t love hotdogs and I live about an hour from the center of the North American continent, so good fish is hard to come by. The deer, however, is very fresh and only about a week old since it’s one I got over break.

Thank you so much for the recommendation! I will definitely be making this more often because it was really easy and is very delicious.

[persephone-plasmids]

Trying

A Danse and Nora fic

[Part 1]

[Read on AO3]

Danse woke up before the sun, his chest heavy with the memories of the night before. Nora had kissed him. But she’d also been drunk, so it hadn’t counted.

Of course, that didn’t stop him from reliving the moment in his mind over and over again. He’d hardly slept as he wondered what was worse: Nora remembering the kiss and regretting it, or forgetting about it and the two of them never addressing it again. He wasn’t sure what he could even hope for if she did remember. She’d never reciprocate his feelings. And he couldn’t fault her for that. He was a Synth. An abomination.

Danse scowled up at the ceiling before rolling out of bed, pulling his boots on, and leaving the partially destroyed house in Sanctuary where he now stayed. The settlement had turned into a place for all of Nora’s strays to reside; himself included.

Fog hung heavily in the early morning air as Danse began his normal jog around the perimeter of the settlement. He’d run up the rocky hills to make sure no Raiders had taken up residence overnight then splash through the river a few times to cool himself down before making the jog up the hill to the entrance of Vault 111.

Today, the sight of the large metal vault entrance only made his stomach turn. It reminded him of his interaction with Nora the day before. She’d been grieving the loss of her husband. She’d gotten drunk. And she’d kissed him.

Had he taken advantage of her compromised state? He tried to assure himself that he hadn’t. He’d pushed her away. He’d been the one to stop things before they went further. But he also couldn’t deny that he’d kissed her back. That he’d enjoyed kissing her back. And he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t spent the entire rest of the evening replaying the kiss in extreme detail, imagining what it could have been like if it had gone further.

Danse shook his head, ashamed at his own thoughts as he jogged back down the hill to Sanctuary.

The sun was beginning to melt away the heavy fog and by the time Danse had showered and donned his Brotherhood jumpsuit for the day, the haze was nothing but a distant memory.

There’s no avoiding it forever. I’ve got to go check on Nora, Danse thought to himself as he exited his home and stepped out into the streets of Sanctuary. Settlers were just starting to make their way to their assigned tasks for the day. Some held rifles to guard the perimeter while others grabbed gardening tools. Danse rolled his eyes as Hancock stumbled through the streets with a dazed smile on his face.

“Just getting in, Hancock?” Danse asked, the disapproval heavy in his voice.

“It’s my duty as mayor of Goodneighbor to check on my citizens every now and then,” Hancock replied, the lazy smile still on his scarred features.

“Funny how it’s only the patrons in The Third Rail you seem to check on,” Danse answered.

He hadn’t intended on harassing the Ghoul today. In all honesty, he was trying to be better. Mostly for Nora’s sake, but also because of his own revelation that he wasn’t as purely human as he’d always thought. Danse hated being a hypocrite. But purging his deeply ingrained prejudices from his mind was proving much more difficult than he wanted to admit.

“It’s not my fault I know how to have a good time, Danse,” Hancock said. “If you ever want to loosen the leash Maxson put on you, you’re welcome to join us.”

Danse shook his head at the Ghoul but didn’t respond. He knew he wouldn’t have anything kind to say. Instead, he made his way to Nora’s house, ignoring the stinging reminder from Hancock that he was no longer a member of the Brotherhood.

Standing in front of the door to Nora’s home, Danse squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and knocked. His body told him he needed to leave immediately, because whether or not she remembered the kiss, this interaction would be painful. Seeing her would remind him just how incredible it felt to kiss her… and that he couldn’t do it again. But he didn’t run. He stayed right where he was.

His heart hammered in his chest as the door knob turned, but it wasn’t Nora who greeted him. Instead, Deacon stood in the doorway wearing Nora’s old flowery apron over his usual T-shirt and jeans, raising his ginger eyebrows behind his sunglasses.

“Morning sunshine,” the spy said with a grin.

“Deacon?” Danse asked, his confusion slowly turning to anger as it always seemed to. He needed to work on that. “What are you doing in Nora’s house this early?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, soldier?” Deacon asked. “But a gentleman never kisses and tells.”

Danse set his jaw firmly as he stared at the man in front of him. He was already calculating how much physical damage it would do if he punched Deacon right then and there. The spy would live. But Nora would never forgive Danse. So he refrained.

“Oh man, I can see all those little Brotherhood cogs turning in your brain. It would be adorable if it wasn’t so sad,” Deacon said with a laugh. “At ease, soldier. I was totally kidding. Just wanted to get a rise out of you. I didn’t realize it would be quite so effective.”

Danse could hear the laughter in Deacon’s voice, but it was muted by the sound of his own blood rushing through his body.

He definitely needed to work on his anger management skills.

“Where is Nora?” Danse asked simply, refusing to acknowledge just how close he’d been to getting into a physical altercation with Deacon.

Danse was usually close to getting into a fight with Deacon, but the idea that the spy had slept with Nora was definitely the thing that would have pushed him over the edge… had it been true.

“I feel like out of the two of us, you’re the one who should know she headed over to the Prydwyn before dawn,” Deacon answered, turning around and heading back into Nora’s kitchen without another look in Danse’s direction.

The Paladin followed the spy and perched on one of the barstools at the counter.

Deacon, still wearing the flowery apron, was stirring mirelurk eggs in a frying pan.

“Nora went to the Prydwyn?” Danse asked, his mind trying to play catch up. “Why?”

“Personally, I don’t think she needs to keep things friendly with the Brotherhood of Bigots anymore now that The Institute is destroyed, but she said something about an open line of communication between the factions and blah, blah, blah.” Deacon shook his head. “Maxson said he wanted to meet with her about something or other. Probably wants to start a fun petition forbidding Ghouls from speaking or something.”

“Maxson asked for her?” Danse repeated. This gave him pause.

There was a time when Danse had worshipped Maxson. He’d thought the man could do no wrong. That was, of course, until Maxson had wanted him killed for being a Synth. Danse could understand the difficult position Maxson had been placed in, but after their years of friendship, he still had a hard time with just how quickly the Elder had turned on him.

He also saw the way Maxson looked at Nora when Danse had still been allowed aboard the Prydwyn. The Elder was young and Nora was beautiful. It only made sense that he’d look at her the way he did. But Danse didn’t like it, even though he was fairly certain the only reason he was still alive was because Nora had been the one to convince Maxson to spare him. Danse wasn’t sure anyone else could have swayed the Elder the way she did.

“Do I sense a love triangle? Because you know I love some juicy gossip,” Deacon said, grinning over at the Paladin and plopping some eggs onto a plate for him.

“That’s inappropriate, civilian,” Danse said, staring at the eggs in front of him and wondering why on earth Deacon would ever make him food. They hated each other.

“Hate to break it to you, tin can, but you’re a civilian now too,” Deacon said, taking a seat beside Danse with his own plate of eggs.

“You and I are not the same,” Danse emphasized, taking a bite out of the eggs. They were surprisingly good.

“You’re completely right,” Deacon agreed, though Danse could tell from his tone that he wasn’t going to like what came next. “I’ve been able to let go of my bigoted ways, while you still look at Hancock and Valentine like they’re Mirelurk scat on your boot.”

“That’s…” Danse began, but he didn’t know what to really say. Deacon wasn’t wrong. Danse wasn’t doing a great job of changing his deeply ingrained beliefs.

“Admitting you have a problem is the first step, champ,” Deacon said, with a soft pat on Danse’s shoulder.

It would have been a kind gesture, if the spy hadn’t immediately snorted from trying to hold back his laughter.

“I’m… trying,” Danse managed to say, even if it felt like injecting a Stimpack directly into his temple to utter the words.

Deacon glanced over at Danse for a moment, but it was hard for the Paladin to read his expression behind the sunglasses. He had to remind himself that this was probably the reason the spy always wore them.

“A good first step would be to actually spend some time with the people you hate,” Deacon offered, being surprisingly helpful. “You might find that you actually have some fun with Hancock. Plus, you and Valentine are a bit more alike than you might think. He’s a giant stick in the mud too.”

Danse huffed under his breath and simply said, “Noted,” before taking another bite of eggs.

The two men chewed in silence for a moment before the front door opened and Nora strode in wearing the all-black Brotherhood of Steel jumpsuit reserved for high-ranking officials.

Danse’s eyes involuntarily roamed over just how perfectly the jumpsuit fit her curves, though he immediately hated himself for the very visceral reaction the image gave him.

“Deacon Marie Jones! What are you doing in my apron?” Nora asked dramatically, walking up behind the spy and wrapping her arms around him in a familiar embrace.

This did nothing to lessen Danse’s animosity towards the spy.

“Your middle name is Marie?” Danse asked.

“I just make up names for him,” Nora replied. “Since he won’t tell anyone his real name.”

Deacon leaned backward into Nora’s embrace as she held him tightly before finally releasing him. Danse hated how casual their physical contact was. She wasn’t like that with the Paladin.

“I thought we agreed the apron looks better on me,” Deacon said.

“Everything looks better on you, Deacon,” Nora agreed with a laugh, walking over to the frying pan and scooping a few eggs for herself. “I bet even this ridiculous black jumpsuit would look better on you.”

Danse refrained from pointing out how false that statement was.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone look so good in a jumpsuit before.

“Give yourself some credit, Charmer,” Deacon said, his voice as smooth as ever. “There are only so many people who can pull off a dog collar.”

“It’s not a dog collar,” Danse mumbled, finding himself irrationally annoyed by the comment.

Nora’s lips quirked up into a grin as she set her plate down and walked over to Danse. The Paladin swiveled in his barstool to face her but he didn’t anticipate just how close she’d get to him. Nora walked right up to Danse, positioning herself between his knees as she grinned down at him.

Danse swallowed hard as his dark eyes met hers. She took one finger and hooked it under the metal ring at the neck of Danse’s Brotherhood uniform and gave it a soft tug. She didn’t manage to pull him closer from his sitting position, but it did cause her to take another step closer to him, now standing squarely between his thighs.

“What exactly would you call it then, Paladin?” Nora asked, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.

Danse felt like his heart might actually beat out of his chest as he stared up at her. She still had a firm grasp on the clasp at his neck and he worried she’d be able to visibly see the nervous way he swallowed.

“It’s… It’s an attachment for the Power Armor,” he managed to choke out.

He hated that Deacon was here to witness just how easily Nora could set him off balance.

“I guess your big brown puppy dog eyes just make the term ‘dog collar’ feel more fitting,” Nora answered with a smirk.

He could feel the heat of her hips against his thighs but tried with every fiber of his being to ignore it. Their close proximity was only making it more difficult for him to focus.

Thankfully, Nora released her grasp on the metal ring and stepped back around the counter to retrieve her eggs. “Thanks for the breakfast, Deeks,” Nora said casually, as if she hadn’t just upended Danse’s entire world.

“Just paying off my debt to society,” Deacon said, finishing his own plate off and rinsing it in the sink. “I should have never suggested that game of strip poker.”

Danse’s eyes widened at this comment but Nora just shook her head with a laugh.

“He bet me that I couldn’t convince a Diamond City guard to give me their uniform.”

“I didn’t take into account that she wouldn’t use stealth to get what she wanted,” Deacon said with a scowl. “I still think it’s cheating if you use your feminine wiles.”

“You’re just mad that you have to make me breakfast every Tuesday for a month,” Nora said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Deacon shook his head and grinned. “Well I’m off to go start some rumors around Diamond City that Piper is actually a Ghoul. Wish me luck.”

“You’ll need it,” Nora replied before the spy disappeared, leaving her and Danse alone.

Danse took a deep breath, wondering if he wanted to come right out and ask Nora if she remembered what had happened the night before, or if it would be better to just ignore it.

He decided on the coward’s way out.

“What did Maxson want?” Danse asked, trying to sound uninterested.

“Ugh, that man,” Nora began, exasperation heavy in her voice. “He wanted to try to convince me to pledge my exclusive loyalty to the Brotherhood again. But I told him, for the millionth time, I’m not going to abandon The Railroad or The Minutemen. There’s no reason we can’t all play nice.”

“I’m sure he loved that,” Danse answered, a genuine smile now playing on his lips.

“He threw a bit of a tantrum,” Nora agreed. “Luckily no one was around to see it. He had me meet him in his private quarters this time.”

Danse raised an eyebrow, still trying to pretend like he wasn’t incredibly interested in this particular point. “Oh?”

“I think he thought it might intimidate me if we were alone,” Nora laughed. “He poured me a drink, stood in front of his Brotherhood of Steel flag, and tried to look super intimidating.”

“And?”

“And it didn’t work,” Nora said, giving Danse one of the smiles that made her eyes crinkle in the corners while his heart melted into a puddle inside of him. “My affection isn’t that easily swayed.”

“Of course,” Danse responded simply.

He could feel Nora’s eyes on him as he looked back down at his now empty plate. He was running out of reasons to be in her kitchen but he wasn’t quite ready to leave yet.

“How are you feeling?” Danse began cautiously. “Do you have a headache from that bourbon last night?”

That was casual, right? That was something a totally normal friend would say whether or not they’d kissed the night before… wasn’t it?

“I had a bit of a headache this morning,” Nora began. She was pushing the eggs around on her plate with her fork but not taking a bite. Her eyes were no longer on Danse; now she seemed laser focused on the food in front of her. “I told you I wasn’t that drunk.”

Danse’s cheeks instantly flushed at her words.

She remembered.

She remembered and she really was lucid enough to know that she was kissing him.

What did that mean? Did he ask her about it? Did he ask if she regretted it or did he even dare to hope that she actually somehow felt something for him other than friendship or fondness?

“You can hold your liquor well,” was all the Paladin said, also staring intently at his own plate.

If anyone had walked by the scene in the kitchen, they’d think the two were Synths whose recall codes had been read to them.

The silence between them pressed on for a few moments before Nora softly cleared her throat.

“Listen, Danse… I’m sorry about what happened. You were totally right that I wasn’t thinking straight and… I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Danse felt his entire chest tighten at her words.

She regretted it. She wished it hadn’t happened. He’d made her uncomfortable.

And now that he knew she remembered everything, he felt even worse for kissing her back. What could she possibly think of him now? That he was just like the rest of the Wastelanders; ready to take advantage of an inebriated woman at the drop of a hat?

What did he say to make this better?

“I’m… I shouldn’t have… engaged,” he said quietly. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but Danse had never been good with things like emotions. Synth or not, talking about his feelings wasn’t something he ever thought he’d be comfortable with.

Danse dared a glance up at Nora who was still looking down at her plate. She was frowning with something like disappointment in her eyes.

“I should probably get changed out of this jumpsuit,” she said after another moment of awkward silence. “Preston has a place nearby that he wants me to check out to set up a possible settlement.”

“Of course,” Danse responded, a bit too quickly. “I’ve got some work to do on my power armor.”

Nora nodded as Danse stood up and made his way towards the door.

Before he touched the handle, he heard Nora’s voice, soft and hesitant.

“Would you… want to come with me?”

[highqueenofelfhame]

An: I’ll add tags later, i just wanted to get this posted because I’m like pretty happy with it, it’s alright. So i hope you guys enjoy! I’ll also attach links and stuff later, I’m posting this from my iPad and i just am too lazy for the tagging process. Me wants to sleep. This is part of the Disney au! Shoutout to @tangledraysofsunshine and @punkassbookjockey26 for the help on this one! This is mostly fluff (i know, how wild) but don’t worry i’m working on some angst for you soon. Fafs update soon too! I’ve already started on it and I’m going to keep working on it as the week goes. Thankfully it’s an easy chapter for me to write bc i have plenty of OG stuff to pull from. Okay, anyway! Enjoy!!

With every second that ticked by, it was getting harder and harder not to rummage through his belongings like she lived there. Even worse was that Rowan was sneaking glances at her with a smirk on his lips like he knew she wanted to. It made her scowl, a frown line appearing between her eyebrows as she glared into his back.

“I’m making you dinner, and you’re still finding a reason to be unhappy with me?” He asked her, putting down the spatula and turning to lean against his counter. The man looked criminally good in an ivory cable-knit sweater and dark jeans, an outfit combination that Aelin had never seen him in before. Thinking back on it, she was positive that when he wasn’t in a costume at work, she had only ever seen him in jeans and a t-shirt. There was also the single flannel he’d worn on Halloween, but all of that was simply incomparable to how he looked now.

“You said dinner would be ready ages ago.”

“I said it would be ready in half an hour when you got here, which was twenty minutes ago. I still have ten minutes before you get to hound me about lying.”

“Maybe if you’d prepared an appetizer…” she teased, hoping with every cell in her body that he knew she was kidding. When Rowan had said he wanted to cook her dinner, she’d been floored. The only meal that she could successfully make was breakfast, and the options were limited. Additionally, she couldn’t remember the last time a romantic interest had cooked for her at all. Probably Sam several years earlier, and it had been so bad they’d relented and settled on drive-thru burgers instead.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed at her, and she knew she’d missed the mark with her joke. The date had been going well so far; not much could have been ruined. He’d kissed her hello once, or four times, then told her to make herself at home. Rowan even had a beautiful arrangement of kingsflame at the table in the dining area. Their banter had ensued as it always did, casual teasing comments. Until she went too far. Obviously.

He turned his back, and Aelin tensed, moving across the kitchen to get to him. Just before she touched him, he turned back around, eyes widening almost comically when his elbow nearly hit her temple. Without her boots, her footsteps had been near-silent on his hardwood floors.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, fingers brushing her temple where his sweater had grazed her face. “Hi.”

“Hi.” With their dinner sizzling in the background, she was sure that he could hardly hear the soft whisper of her voice. That didn’t seem to matter because Rowan leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, short and sweet and leaving her wanting more. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Rowan’s brows knit together, green eyes tracing over every feature of her face before settling to meet her gaze.

“Being… me? Teasing? I don’t know. This is a date, and you’re so nice to be making dinner, and I shouldn’t be--”

“Aelin,” he laughed. “You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t busting my balls for something. I don’t think we would be us.” At the mention of them as an item, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth to ward off the embarrassingly large grin that was threatening to take over her face.

“That doesn’t mean I can be rude,” she grumbled, earning another smile from the man in front of her.

“You aren’t.” Rowan turned away from her for a brief moment. When he faced her again he held half of a cookie in his hand. “You just get hangry.”

She stared at the small offering in his hand before accepting it with a smile. Not only was he making her dinner, but it seemed he had also baked her double chocolate chip cookies. It made her heart squeeze in an almost painful way, but she took the cookie and nibbled on the corner. Whatever recipe he had used was perfect. It only made the rumbling in her belly worse, but she was determined to finish it without chocolate smeared all over her mouth.

“I’m almost done with dinner. Go snoop. I know you’re dying to.” Aelin wrinkled her nose, and Rowan was quick to kiss the tip of it, despite her failed attempt to swerve. Not that she wanted him to miss, really. Aelin wanted to beg him to kiss her until she was physically sick and couldn’t stand to feel his mouth on her body ever again.

The apartment was simple. It had one bedroom and an open living and kitchen area. Rowan had a small table that could seat four between the two rooms. It was sparsely decorated but had a few personal touches here and there that provided a glimpse into Rowan’s life. She walked around the living room, noting the pile of books stacked neatly next to the TV contained some of her favorites. She hadn’t pegged Rowan as an avid reader, but she realized that despite working with the man for the past two years, there was still so much she didn’t know about him.

And she realized, more than anything, that she wanted to know everything.

Furthermore, she’d been right about the books stacked on the coffee table. They were travel books, some of them with tabs and post-it notes sticking out of the sides. With a sly glance to the kitchen, she perched on the edge of the couch and pulled the biggest of them with the most annotations toward her, flipping through the pages to see what all he had bookmarked.

One of the first pages was a map marking all the parks and their major attractions. It seemed Rowan had a key for himself, little stars, triangles and squares marking various locations.

“The stars are my favorite places I’ve been,” Rowan said, pulling her gaze from pages of mountains and canyons and over to his green eyes.

“Is this what you do when you aren’t working?” Aelin closed the books and restacked them neatly on the table. Rowan was carrying two plates of stir-fry over to the table. In a few steps she joined him, sliding into the seat beside his.

“When I can, yes.” She was so hungry that she merely nodded, taking a too-large bite of food and meaning at the taste. Rowan’s eyebrow quirked while he took a bite of his own, and to avoid speaking with a mouthful she gave him a thumbs up.

“So good,” she reiterated after she swallowed, clearing her throat.

“I’m glad you like it. I was worried you wouldn’t.”

“It’s food. I like food. And you baked cookies,” Aelin reminded him, popping another bite in her mouth. The tickle she seemed to be developing in her throat worsened, forcing her to clear her throat again after she swallowed. Actually, the tickle was becoming an insatiable itch that she tried to chase away with water. She had no luck. “Is your um— is your throat itchy?”

“No…?” Aelin tugged on the collar of her shirt, nodding her head instead of responding. Rowan leaned over to brush his fingers along her cheek, worry settling in the wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Gods, my mouth is itchy,” she mumbled, mostly to herself, while she downed the rest of her water so quickly a drop slipped down the side of her chin.

“Aelin. What are you allergic to?”

“I’m not allergic to anything,” she insisted, despite the way her tongue felt undeniably too big for her mouth. Rowan had already left the table, though, disappearing through a door off the living room and coming back with a small white bottle. His phone was also now in his hand and the numbers his thumb was pressing looked a lot like 9-1-1 from her vantage point.

“Take these,” he said softly, holding two pills to her lips that she opened her mouth for and downed with Rowan’s full glass of water.

“That’s dramatic.” She nodded at his phone. “I can breathe fine. My mouth is just itchy. And my tongue is a little too big.” To prove a point, she stuck her tongue out. Rowan’s eyes were saucers and he was ready to hit the call button.

“Your tongue is twice the size it usually is!”

“Did you do this on purpose? Is this getting me back for the syrup?” Aelin was kidding. Half-kidding, maybe, but kidding all the same. When she spoke, drool dribbled down her chin that she wiped at with the collar of her shirt. The whimper that sounded in the back of her throat wasn’t voluntary. It was their first date and she managed to drool on herself in front of him. Aelin Galathynius was the epitome of cool.

“This is not getting you back for the syrup.” Rowan’s voice was sharp, if still soft around the edges while he watched her carefully. His thumb was still dancing over the call button, but Aelin refused to be carted out of his apartment on a stretcher. She took his phone, locked it, and held it hostage in her lap while he fussed and mumbled about how big her tongue was. “What are you allergic to?”

“I didn’t know I was allergic to anything,” she swore again, grabbing his water for another long drink.

It went on like this for several minutes: Rowan listing the ingredients for the stir-fry that she may not have had before, or maybe she’d not had it in such a long time she forgot she had a mild allergy to it. MSG, soy, celery, sesame, carrots, on and on. He ran through everything twice before Aelin asked him to please stop, she had no idea and listing them over and over wasn’t going to spark a memory or knowledge she didn’t have.

The signature frown he wore most of the time was all the more prominent the droopier her eyes got; the effects of Benadryl were hitting her harder than she cared to admit, but her throat wasn’t as itchy and her tongue was feeling closer to normal. Rowan held both of her hands and guided her to his bedroom. Aelin wanted to make a joke about how this wasn’t what she’d had in mind, but she was too sleepy to find the words.

Rowan undressed her, pulling her jeans off before guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed. The duvet was softer, fluffier than she’d anticipated him to sleep on, and she wanted to burrow down into it as he replaced her shirt with one of his own. When he pulled back the blanket, she crawled under and didn’t settle until he laid down with her. His sweater was soft beneath her cheek and she felt like she was cuddling with him on a cloud. Gods, his bed was so comfortable she wanted to sleep in it forever.

“I’m sorry for ruining our date,” she mumbled, tilting her head back to look at him beneath heavy lashes and heavier lids.

“I’m sorry for accidentally almost killing you.” Despite the way his lips were turned down, there was amusement hidden in his words. Aelin smiled and tilted her head back enough for him to take the hint: she wanted to be kissed. A half smile spread across his lips and he kissed her gently, fingers brushing loose strands of her hair behind her ear.

“This isn’t how I imagined our date ending,” she grumbled, ducking her face down into his sweater. Rowan chuckled and Aelin knew that it wasn’t what he had in mind, either. “I thought I would end up in your bed but not to sleep. I mean, maybe after you fucked me senseless, but I didn’t think we would be skipping that part altogether.”

“I didn’t think I would make something that had flare up an obscure allergy you didn’t know you had, either. So I guess we’re both surprised.” Aelin snorted, sitting up enough to tug on the side of his sweater. Rowan took the hint, sitting up to pull the sweater and his shirt over his head. While in the process of undressing, he stood and pulled his jeans off, too, tossing them over the back of a desk chair in the corner of the room. Aelin swallowed, eyes dipping over the expanse of golden skin he’d exposed.

Her eyes caught on a scar on his lower abdomen, zeroed-in on the trail of hair that disappeared into his briefs. It dawned on her then that she hadn’t seen him completely naked. At work, they saw each other in various stages of undress while changing costumes, but the only time they’d had sex had been a quickie in Lorcan’s bathroom. They’d both been mostly clothed for that. She was making it a goal to see him entirely naked in the next twenty-four hours, because he looked so good like this it was unfair.

“Maybe I’ll feel better when I wake up,” she said, breathlessly. Rowan grinned, a dimple appearing in his cheek that she didn’t see often enough.

“I’m counting on it.”

[jewish-space-laser]

ok i have an idea for a cbl blurb? could u do a blurb from harry’s pov from the night where he got drunk and how he felt when he saw yn and stuff? ik it already happened but i think seeing it from his viewpoint would be interesting!

Could be Lethal - Part Three (Harry’s POV)

“And every time I’ve held a rose, It seems I only felt the thorns, And so it goes, and so it goes, And so will you soon I suppose...”

– And So It Goes, Billie Joel

HELLO EVERYONE! It’s been months since I’ve posted anything on here, but I randomly got the motivation to pick this up last week. I apologize in advance for my rusty writing skills! This ask has literally been sitting in my inbox for 10 months, so posting it actually feels quite cleansing. Anyway, here is a (long) blurb full of angst, angst, and you guessed it, angst! I hope you love Harry’s take of that night as much as I do. I love you all muchly, thank you for your ongoing love and support <3 xoxoxoxoxoxoxooox Tile

(3.8k word)

You and Harry were friends, with a capital ‘F’. Yeah, you’ve been sleeping in his bed for the past two months, and maybe your entire nervous system goes into hyperdrive when you’re in the same room, but that’s normal, right?

or

The one where you and Harry have an arrangement… of the cuddling sort.

 See the CBL masterlist here!

WARNING: Detailed descriptions of heavy drinking

~~~

It was bullshit. It was all bullshit. 

Harry was miserable. He knew it, his friends knew it, his family knew it… it seemed the only person who wasn’t picking up on his desperation was you. 

You were a complete enigma to him. Sometimes, you were the warmest, most open person he’d ever met, indulging him with interesting conversations, stupid jokes, and even the occassional existential discussion. It was always difficult for Harry to truly open up to a person, having been jaded time and time again by people who weren’t able to look past his famous exterior. 

That’s what makes it so much harder, he thinks. Knowing you properly, you knowing him properly. It made the moments where you were closed off harsher, colder, more difficult to read. 

Since you left his house two days prior, he had done just about anything he could to take his mind off of you. He loved thinking about you, but he also hated thinking about you. It was tortuous and circular and he just wanted a brief moment of emotional respite. 

No, he didn’t want respite, he needed it. 

So he watched all three Lord of the Rings movies in a row, tested out a new stir fry recipe, spent way too much money online shopping, and even scrolled through the Humane Society website in a moment of weakness. But none of it mattered, because even if he could distract himself for a moment, you were still there, lingering in the peripherals of his mind like a song stuck in his head. 

It was dizzying and mind-boggling, and Harry was at a loss for what to do. So when Sunday morning rolled around and it still felt like his lungs were being crushed into a ball, he started drinking. 

It was only 8:00AM, but he bypassed the coffee cabinet and went straight to the fridge, pulling out a chilled bottle of champagne. The pop of the cork was as loud as a gunshot, but Harry didn’t even flinch, hardly registering the sound of it hitting the floor across the room as he rushed the bottle to his lips. 

Bubbles fizzed past his tongue and dripped down his chin, sliding down his bare chest before puddling on the floor. He had to squeeze his eyes shut tightly at the burn of the carbonation, but each gulp sent pleasant tingles over his skin. 

For the first time in ages, his mind felt numb. He didn’t necessarily feel good, but he didn’t feel miserable anymore, and that’s what mattered. He could close his eyes without seeing your smile flash in his head, he could listen to music without immediately relating the lyrics to you, and after his second bottle of wine, he was even able to brew a cup of coffee without thinking of you. 

Okay, maybe he thought of you a little. 

At some point, he passed out on the couch, cartons of Vietnamese takeout sitting cold on his coffee table. When his eyes finally blinked open, the sun had already started to set.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. There was a familiar ache pulsing behind his eyes, and he groaned loudly into his empty house. It never used to feel empty, but now you’d come and gone, and it was too late. You’d left your mark on his house and his coffee and his heart… so he drank more. 

There was no more wine, so he started in on his collection of hard liquor, expensive bottles lined on top of his cupboards. Normally they were reserved for when he had guests over, but this fell into the realm of desperation. His sunken eyes scanned the glass bottles before settling on the cheapest of them, an unopened Maker’s Mark. It would do. 

He was pouring a healthy sized glass of the whisky, and then suddenly he wasn’t. His heavy eyes blinked in confusion as he stared across the bar at the bartender, who was raising his eyebrows expectantly. 

“That’ll be thirty-five pounds, mate,” the bartender said, “got roped into buying the first round, eh?”

“Yeah,” Harry grunted, glancing over his shoulder to see Thomas and Jessie watching him from a booth. 

He doesn’t remember leaving his house, let alone coming to the pub with his friends. In fact, if he tried to think about it, his memory of the entire day felt fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together. 

In his mind, this was a success. A full day gone without thinking about you or talking to you or seeing you. The clock behind the bar read 00:43 in red neon numbers. He took one of the shots quickly, signing the bill and taking the remaining five back to his friends. 

“Harry mate, we told you we’re not getting pissed tonight,” Thomas groaned, “what’d you get six shots for?”

“What kind are they?” Jessie asked, wrinkling their nose. 

“I dunno,” Harry shrugged, setting the tray down directly in front of himself. His vision swayed to and fro, but he still managed to down another shot, disregarding the concerned look his friends shared. “It’s rum. If you don’t want any, that’s fine.”

“It’s a Sunday, mate,” Thomas reminded him gently.

“We’re at a pub, aren’t we?” Harry slurred. “Supposed to get drunk here.”

“You asked us to come here,” Jessie said slowly, “said you needed to talk to us about something.”

Harry blinked at them slowly, swaying slightly in his seat. He didn’t remember any of this. 

“Actually, he said he needed a drink,” Thomas corrected, “I didn’t realize he meant twenty drinks.”

Another shot burned down his throat, and then everything was cold. 

“Harry.”

His head was pounding. Every limb felt heavy. He couldn’t bear to open his eyes, already overwhelmed by the echo of Thomas’s voice reverberating off of the tile floors. 

“Harry.”

He knew that somebody was trying to get his attention, but he just couldn’t. The alcohol had done its job for most of the day, keeping his brain muddled down and diluted just to spare him the pain of remembering. But now, it backfired, trapping him inside his own head with no way out, with nothing to do but remember. He could hear people talking in the background, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was as if he was underwater, slipping further and further down with each painful clench of his heart.

He felt a hand press against his arm, and jerked away, causing his stomach to twist. He didn’t want to be here anymore, and he certainly didn’t want to be bothered. 

“G’way, Thomas,” he managed to grunt. 

“It’s me.”

Your voice was clear as crystal to him, but he knew it couldn’t be real. You had left him, after all.

The image of you driving away from his house was burned into his memory, playing over and over again in slow motion. If he thought hard enough, he could even remember the way your body had felt beneath his, whining and squirming and gasping, just like he’d always dreamed about. He could remember the sunken expression on your face the next morning, the heavy silence of the car ride to the coffee shop. He could remember how he’d hoped, so badly, that you’d finally talk about it, this unspoken connection that could no longer be denied. Most of all, he remembers the way his heart dropped when you told him that you didn’t remember any of it.

Another gentle brush, this time along his hairline, and he managed to open his eyes just a sliver. 

You looked amazing. Well, there were circles under your eyes, you were wearing your pajamas and slippers, and you were frowning in concern, but to Harry, you were the most beautiful thing. 

 “You’re here… y’really here….” he sighed. 

You were crouched in front of him, holding a plastic cup of water, and all he wanted to do was pull you into his chest. You looked sleepy and cosy, just like you always did when you stayed over. Before he could reach out to pull you close, you were putting the rim of the cup against his bottom lip.

He took it, grateful for the relief it provided his dry mouth. For the first time since he came to, he took in his surroundings. He was in a single stall bathroom, curled on the floor next to the toilet. The walls were an ugly pale yellow, while the floors were white, making the streaks of dirt and grime more noticeable than ever. Thomas was leaning against the sink across the room, watching you as you tried to get him to finish the cup. 

“Y’look so pretty, always look so good,” Harry slurred, “just wanna snuggle, like we always do.”

He loved the way your mouth dropped open. Everything about you was endearing, really. He watched as you twisted your head to say something to Thomas, water sloshing around in the cup when you nodded your head quickly. Thomas left immediately after, but Harry hardly even noticed. 

When you turned back around to face him, he felt blinded. Despite the dark circles under your eyes, they’re bright and they pierce through him just like always. He loves the color of your skin and the shape of your nose and the little crease that forms between your eyebrows when you’re anxious. He thinks he could probably paint you with his eyes closed. 

Warmth licked across his skin when you brushed your fingertips against his forehead, tucking a stray lock of hair back into place. Harry leaned into your touch, unwilling to let the moment pass too quickly. 

“Can you try taking a sip of water, H?” You tilted your head. “For me?”

He could have laughed, had he not been so nauseated. He would do anything for you normally, but he really did feel awful. “G’na make me sick,” he insisted, wrinkling his nose at the cup in your hand. Even though he could hardly focus, his eyes zeroed in on the faded X scrawled in sharpie on the back of your hand, a souvenir from your night out at TAVERN. He had a matching mark on his hand, and he dreaded the moment the ink would wash off fully. Just another thing forgotten.

He just wanted you.  

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the look on your face told him that it had slipped out. There was no way he regretted it though, not with you right in front of him. Not in this state of mind. 

“It’s gonna make you feel better, and then we can go home,” you urged softly, scooting a tiny bit closer to him.

Home. When he thought of home, he thought about mornings in his house, sunlight filtering in through the blinds and leaving shadowed stripes across your skin. Home was the way you squinted your eyes tighter together right before waking up. Home was you at his kitchen table, going off at him about not doing his dishes. 

“Y’coming home w’me?” He managed to say. Your eyes softened.

“Only if you drink this whole cup,” you lifted it up to him once again, gingerly tilting his head up with a finger on his chin. Even though he felt like his stomach would combust if tried to swallow anything, he allowed you to help him drink some water. Some sloshed messily onto his shirt, but it felt sobering. You met his eyes for a moment, “is that good?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

If you asked him to drink water, he would drink water. He would drink an entire ocean of water. It was achingly clear to literally everybody but you. He could tattoo your name over his heart and you still wouldn’t see.

You gulped loudly, but didn’t say a word, simply prompting him to take another sip of water. He wished more than anything that you’d say something. Make some kind of facial expression. He just wanted a signal, a sign, that you felt anything towards him; disgust, affection, pity. 

He was sure you must pity him. 

Harry drank the rest of the water, cheeks burning as he asked you for a refill. He was still drunk, but the fog had cleared enough for him to sit up straight without feeling like he was going to hurl. He watched you refill the cup in the sink that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in decades, but that was honestly the least of his concerns. 

“Y’must think I’m pathetic,” he grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head back against the wall. “Can’t lose you.”

“You haven’t lost me,” he heard you say quietly.

But it felt like he had. Because even though you were friends, it wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t fall asleep to the sound of your soft exhales. It wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t feel that rush of excitement when you sneakily texted him under the table on nights out. Having you at a distance could never be enough. 

“Harry…” you sighed, rubbing your eyes, “why did you drink so much tonight?”

If your obliviousness hadn’t been so devastating, he would have laughed. How could you sit here with him, look into his eyes, and not see that his heart was entirely in your hands? How could he explain anything to you if you hadn’t already seen it?

So he wouldn’t try. Not right now. 

He mustered up the strength to push up onto his knees, managing to stand up fully with your steady grip on his arms. He took one shaky step as his head spun, and felt your arms snake around his waist to keep him balanced. Without even thinking about it, he wrapped his arm over your shoulder, reveling in the feeling of having you so close as you helped him out of the toilet. 

You brought him to a stop in the main room by the bar, and he couldn’t help but bury his nose into the top of your head. You smelled just like you always did. It had only been a few nights, but your scent was already fading on his bedsheets. 

“Y’smell like lavender,” he hummed, squeezing your arm lightly, “s’like you’re tryin; t’torture me…. So pretty.”

It really was torture, having you hold onto him as you both walked out of the pub. You were distracting, with your warm skin and soft hands. Each step was difficult; his feet were heavy as anvils and he just wanted to curl up right here on the sidewalk. 

Just as he was considering plopping down on the pavement, he heard the familiar beep of your car opening. He closed his eyes once he was sat in the passenger seat, feeling you fuss over his seatbelt. He flinched slightly when you slid a cold water bottle between his knees.

Harry blinked, and then suddenly you were buckled in behind the steering wheel, poking his arm and peering at him with tired eyes. “Can you stay awake for me, H? Just till we get to your house, okay?”

“Y’coming to my house?”

You were so good to him, all the time. By the looks of your attire, you were ready to be in bed hours ago, yet here you were, patient as ever.

“Yes, I’m taking you home,” you said through a yawn. 

“Miss having you at my house,” Harry exhaled. He didn’t even know what he was saying really, just the same thoughts and memories circling through his mind like planets around the sun, all them centered on you. “My sheets don’t smell like you anymore.”

Suddenly, he felt hot all over. His trousers were too scratchy against his skin, his palms felt clammy, and the longer you stayed silent on the other side of the car, his stomach started turning. In an effort to cool off and calm down, he let his head fall against the window, the cool glass soothing his skin. 

Drunk or not, he was trying to tell you how he feels, he was constantly trying to tell you how he feels… and you didn’t say a word. You never did. It was so frustrating that he found himself biting back tears. 

Finally, after what felt like hours, you cleared your throat. “You can’t…” your voice cracked, “you can’t say things like that, Harry. It hurts me when you say things like that.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Harry managed to say. “But it’s the truth.”

He was so confused. How on earth could you be hurting when he was sitting here with his arms wide open? Was he so repulsive that the mere thought of being with him caused you pain, somehow?

He was too drunk for this. 

Luckily, you seemed to be on the wavelength. “Let’s just… not talk,” you said, shoulders slumped. 

Harry was feeling awfully dejected himself. He’d spent the last few days trying to cope with his complicated feelings, and now he was back at square one. Every time he thought he knew where the two of you stood, you would say something vague and he would start all over. Your relationship was like a house of cards; delicate, fragile, and knocked to the ground with the slightest shift, the tiniest gust of wind. 

The headache started out small, but by the time you pulled your car into Harry’s driveway, he was feeling like he might keel over. Somehow, he was simultaneously drunk and hungover. If he was going to make it up the stairs to his room, he was going to need something in his stomach, and water that wasn’t from a pub bathroom.

It was humiliating enough that he’d needed you to help him from the car, but upon entering his house, he nearly kicked his shoe through the living room window, grumbling about toast. He knew he’d been less than impressive tonight, but perhaps this was what you needed -- seeing him at rock bottom -- to finally open up and have a real conversation about what you could be. 

When he woke up in the morning, he would be sober, and he would be ready. He would make you coffee like he always does, and maybe he’d even run out and pick up fresh pastries.

“Want some toast,” he said, though he was fairly certain he’d said it once already. 

You were standing in front of him, toes just inches apart, and it felt instinctive to place his hands on your waist and pull you in. The silk pajama top you were wearing was cool against his hands, but he could feel the heat of your skin underneath, the frantic thumping of your heart against your ribcage tickling his fingertips.

Your hands were on his shoulders to keep him steady, but he was suddenly feeling more sober than he had all night. All day, really. 

Harry slid his hands further behind you, locking together behind your back. Having you close felt incredible. It hadn’t even been three days since he last saw you, yet every atom in his body was craving your touch.

“You, um,” he felt your shaky whale against his collar bone, “you have to let go of me if you want me to make you toast.”

Letting go of you felt physically impossible, so instead, Harry dipped his head down and rested his forehead against yours. The anticipation was excruciating as he waited for you to do what you always did: sink into his arms, wrap yourself around him, soothe him to sleep with the weight of your head on his chest.

Fissures cracked through his heart when you pushed him back, taking a single step back that may as well have been a mile. Suddenly, the air all around him felt cold, the room felt darker, the silence felt louder. He took a deep breath in, but still felt like he was suffocating.

“Do you really not remember?”

He needed to know. He had done everything in his power to think about anything else, but had somehow ended up here, standing face to face with you. He wonders if this is how it was supposed to be, if throwing you together over and over again was the universe’s ultimate plan, if all of this misery would be worth it in the end. 

He’d experienced heartbreak before, but this was something else. And when you choked out, “Harry, please don’t make me say it,” in the smallest voice he’d ever heard you use, he knew that he could write millions of records about the pain of this moment, and still never do it justice.

“You remember, don’t you?”

All you did was nod your head once, but he suddenly felt drained. Maybe it was the full day of heavy, reckless drinking… or maybe it was the realization that things really might not work out. He still wanted to try, though. Even though you’d left the other day, there were countless other times you had stayed. For months you’d been coming over in secret, coming out of your shell and showing him how amazing you really were. That had to count for something; there had to be a reason. 

Coffee. He would make coffee in the morning and the two of you would fix everything. 

“Should we head to bed? ‘S getting kind of late, y’must be exhausted.”

You really did look tired, your eyes rimmed with red from yawning over and over, back hunched and shoulders slumped. He was feeling knackered himself, and was more than ready for this night to be over.

“Actually… I think I’m gonna head back home,” you gulped. Harry felt like he’d been slapped, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. It’s as if you’d turned to sand; there one moment and slipping through his fingers the next.

“You don’t want to stay?” Harry tried to keep his voice even, but even he could hear how it wavered. He clenched his jaw to keep from crying.

“I just… have to go home,” you said, looking everywhere but at him. 

He waited for you to say something else, but instead watched as you hoisted your purse further up onto your shoulder and walked out the door. Shell shocked, he stood there frozen, even as your headlights disappeared down the street. 

A long breath blew past his lips as he finally moved to lock his front door, any hope of you walking back through it dashed by the way you’d walked out for a second time. 

Harry likely would have benefited from a glass of water and pain medication, but with a buzzing brain and a shattered heart, all he could manage was to pass out on the couch fully clothed, dreaming about what might have been if you had just stayed.  

~~~

As always, let me know what you think! I love talking to you <3 xoxoxoxox Tile

[m0rkl]

For the Markiplier Community Big Sass Bake Sale, I decided to make my Oat Milk Caramel Sauce! It’s one of my favorite things to make and since I don’t usually like very sweet things, I like making a dark and toasty caramel that doesn’t taste overly sugary.

When I make this, I sort of half follow my own directions, half do whatever the fuck seems right. Is this conductive to making a good recipe? Probably not, but is it still a damn good caramel sauce? I mean, I hope so. Scroll down and read under the cut if you want my real recipe instructions.

Regardless, I start with a cup of oat milk. I use full fat, but like, where is the fat in oat milk? It’s oats. I don’t understand. But I do it anyways because more fat generally means better taste so why not? I add the whiskey before I start heating it, but you don’t have to add it, I just like the flavor it gives. Once I added it after the sugar and it curdled like a little bitch and I had to throw it out. I don’t know why it did that. Probably science, but whatever reason it happened, it sucked and I had to throw it all out.

Then I simmer the oat milk over medium-high heat until it’s down to about the consistency of heavy cream. This probably takes about ten minutes, but I’ve never actually timed it. Sometimes I use a vanilla bean instead of vanilla bean paste. If I’m using the bean, I’ll cut it open, scrape all the bits into the milk and let the whole pod sit in the milk while it condenses. If I’m using paste, that goes in later.

While the oat milk is going, I brown the butter. I hate butter. If you’ve ever lived with me, you’ll know that, for whatever reason it may be, I hate butter. It’s slimy and gross, and if I can taste it, I just… bleh. I overuse olive oil for this reason, but you can’t use olive oil in this recipe. But for this, we’re browning the butter, which make it considerably more tolerable. I cut the butter into quarter inch pieces and set it in a frying pan. Then I set it over medium heat and stir frequently. It will start to foam up pretty quickly and just keep stirring until you start getting browned bits along the bottom. Apparently it’s best to use a wooden spoon for this, but I couldn’t be bothered to find out why. You can google it if you really care that much.

Once the milk and the butter are ready, I add the butter into the oat milk pot. I don’t actually think this is the order you’re supposed to put this in when you’re making caramel, but I’ve never really fucked this recipe up so I guess its fine. Once I’ve made sure to scrape all the brown bits into the milk, I whisk it all up and start adding in the sugar. My recipe calls for dark brown sugar, but I usually just use whatever form of brown sugar is on hand. I have no clue how this affects the flavor, but dark brown sugar sounds more bougie. I mean, I’m also using vanilla bean paste and whiskey so its going to be at least a little bougie regardless. Speaking of vanilla, this would be the time to add the paste. You can use extract instead, for a less bougie effect.

Once all of that is added in, I let it simmer and stir occasionally. Somewhere along the line here I add salt to taste. I like kind of a lot of salt in my sweets, so the amount is really just whatever you like the taste of. From there, I let the sauce cook down to a consistency that I like. To be honest, I start out every time going “ah fuck its too liquid-y” but by the time it’s actually cooked down it ends up fine. Just try not to turn the heat up and down a lot otherwise you’ll get some oil separation and the end texture will be a little grainy. Once its to a kind of drippy, but sort of thick consistency, turn off the heat. As it cools, it will set up and thicken a little more.

This sauce is great for a lot of things, I’ve used it as a base for german chocolate cake frosting, as dip for apple slices, or ice cream topping. I especially like putting a spoonful in my coffee. It’s just tasty. As for ‘serving size’ eeeh I couldn’t really tell you, but you end up with almost two cups of caramel? Maybe closer to a cup and a half. I’ve yet to actually measure it, but you could if you wanted to. Or don’t. I don’t care.

Here’s actually recipe under the cut without my bitching lol

Ingredients

1 cup of Oatmilk

1/2 cup of butter

1 cup of dark brown sugar (packed)

1/2 tablespoon vanilla bean paste(or 1 vanilla bean)

A large pinch of salt

1 tablespoon of whiskey

1.      Condense the Oat Milk- In a saucepan, bring the oat milk to a medium-high heat. If you are using the optional whiskey, add it now. Let it simmer and stir occasionally for about ten minutes or until its about the consistency of cream.

2.      Brown the Butter- While the oat milk is condensing, cut the butter into quarter inch pieces. Then, place them in a frying pan and bring to medium heat. Let it melt and stir frequently, to ensure even melting. The butter will foam up and star to smell nice and toasty. Keep stirring until you have a nice layer of brown bits on at the bottom of your pan. If your oat milk is ready, pour your browned butter directly into the saucepan. If not, transfer the butter into a heat safe container so that it doesn’t burn in the pan. Make sure to scrape all the browned bits into the pan.

3.      Add the Sugar- Add the brown sugar and vanilla to the saucepan. Bring it all to a medium heat and stir until the sugar is incorporated. Sprinkle in the salt and keep stirring.

4.      Simmer- Turn the heat up to a medium high and stir occasionally as the caramel thickens. Once the sauce is thick enough that you can get thin ribbons, you’re good to go! The sauce will thicken up as it cools

[skinsharpenedteeth]

Coming Up Easy - The First Dance

You can also check this out on AO3!!

Michael reclined in bed against the pillows he’d stacked against the wall so he could read his phone, drink a beer, and be semi-comfortable. It’d been a long, long day and he was having trouble winding down from it. He’d put on one of Isobel’s Spotify playlists on random while he dicked around on his phone. He knew what he wanted to do. He’d been scrolling through his photo’s gallery for ten minutes staring at the few pictures he had of them together. He wished he had more. He was pointedly trying to stay out of the private file he had that definitely showed more of them together because he’d been visiting that file way too often since Alex had moved.

Finishing his beer, Michael chucked the empty bottle into the trash and opened a new one. Feeling daring, he shot Alex a text.

Me 10:02 p.m. >> You up?

Alex 10:03 p.m. >> I am. In fact, I’m cooking.

Me 10:05 p.m. >> I call bullshit. You hate cooking.

<<Alex is requesting a video chat session: Accept?>>

Biting his lip, Michael had a second to wonder how he was going to look before saying ‘Fuck it’ and pushing his thumb against the accept key. Alex’s face filled his phone screen and Michael would be lying to say his heart didn’t flutter a little at the sight of his slightly red, smiling face.

“Oh my God, I missed your face,” Alex said without preamble. Michael found himself smiling despite himself.

“Yeah? Need me to send you pictures daily?” Michael teased.

“No, I don’t want to get spoiled. This is a treat for me. I’ve been looking at strangers for weeks now,” Alex replied. Michael was trying not to stare because Alex looked so good and it just made Michael want to go over to his place and tackle him against the refrigerator. He couldn’t though. That sort of thing would take planning and plane tickets and passports and so much more work than it did a month ago. Sighing to himself, Michael tried to keep the conversation flowing.

“Any cute ones?” Michael asked, kicking himself immediately. Alex’s eyebrows drew together for a moment before he wiped the expression away.

“Uh, not yet. I’ll probably have to get on a dating app or something to really meet people,” Alex replied awkwardly, smile turning brittle as he spoke. Faintly, Michael could hear music in the background of Alex’s kitchen.

“So what are you listening to while you cook? And what are you cooking? You burned a peanut butter and jelly sandwich once!” Michael exclaimed, eyes flitting around the screen trying to see behind Alex’s head. Alex rolled his eyes, but his smile was more genuine.

“I’m listening to that new Miley Cyrus song “Can't Stop”. Have you heard it?” Alex asked, moving closer to his Bluetooth speaker and turning up the volume so Michael could listen in.

“No, I haven’t. I’ll have to listen to it later, sounds good,” Michael commented. Alex was closing his eyes and the phone was swaying like he was dancing to the music.

“Oh shit, I’m going to put you down on the counter. I gotta stir,” Alex exclaimed a moment later and suddenly Michael could see much more of Alex’s apartment kitchen and of Alex himself. He was wearing his old MCR t-shirt they’d spent one night turning into a tank top and sweatpants. The large, gaping armholes showed off the hint of muscle on his back and chest and made Michael’s mouth water and his entire body ache with want to touch him. He watched Alex grab a spatula and start stirring it around a frying pan, hips still moving with the beat of the song as he concentrated. Michael had to clear his voice as his mouth went suddenly dry at the visual of those hips in action. Alex had always been good with rhythm, but being best friends with Liz had also given him a swivel to his dancing style that was frankly indecent.

“So, uh, what are you cooking?” Michael asked again, trying not to get too mesmerized by Alex dancing and mouthing the words to the song into the end of the spatula when he wasn’t stirring.

“Stirfry. Something so basic even I can’t fuck it up, hopefully,” Alex joked. He picked the phone up so he could turn the camera for Michael to look in the pan. Looked like soggy frozen veggies mixed with overcooked chicken in something that might’ve been brown sauce.

“Looks great,” Michael lied as Alex put the phone back down. Alex looked at him for a moment and started laughing.

“Okay, it looks like dog vomit, but it’ll be edible. Someone never taught me how to cook, despite being excellent at it,” Alex joked, giving Michael a dirty look through the phone. Fuck, Michael wanted to kiss that look off his face.

“I was trying to make my friendship indispensable to you. Apparently, I failed since you moved to another country and left me to languish in the desert alone and lonely,” Michael said dramatically. Alex barked out another laugh before turning back to the pan and shaking his head down at it. He moved it off the heating element and flipped the dial. Michael watched him as he bent over and settled on his elbows in front of the phone. He looked… well, Michael was glad his own camera was facing front.

“You’re indispensable to me no matter what, even without the cooking lessons. Just you wait, you’ll come up here for a visit and soon I’ll have a roommate,” Alex joked.

“We’ll see about that,” Michael retorted as another song came on. The song immediately sent him back to a small, dusty shed that smelled like sweat, metal, wood, and damp cotton. He could feel Alex’s warm hands on his hips nudging him to shift with the beat to the left and right while they both stared at his bare feet.

“Is this….?” Michael started but stopped as he became sure that it was. Alex had been looking over his shoulder towards the speaker and when Michael spoke up, he turned back to the phone. His cheeks were slightly pink and he looked sheepish.

“Yeah, this is Hellogoodbye. Remembering the same thing I am?” Alex asked, looking at Michael nervously through the phone. Michael let his head fall back against the wall behind him and he took a long pull from his beer before answering.

“Yeah, I think so. You teaching me to dance for prom?” Michael asked, not looking at the phone but hearing Alex clear his voice.

“Yeah, that,” he answered, voice subdued. They fell into silence and Michael had no doubt they were both trapped in a shared memory.

“I don’t even want to go to prom. I’ve managed to miss every other dance in high school, I don’t see why Isobel is so insistent I go to this one!” Michael raged, walking the length of the Mane’s shed back and forth while Alex watched from the futon. They were both shirtless and slightly sweaty, only partially dressed after their makeout and hand job session. Alex was leaned over with his elbows on his knees watching Michael warily.

“It’s just a dance, Michael. Go if it’ll make her happy. I’m going, you can come hang out with me,” Alex said, tone slightly exasperated. He’d been listening to Michael bitch about Isobel’s insistence for him to go to prom for a week already and it was beginning to grate on his nerves. Michael stopped and looked at him, arms raised and expression clearing asking ‘Are you actually agreeing with her?!’. Alex just kept looking at him blankly. ‘Yes,’ his expression replied. ‘I’m agreeing with her.’ With a defeated sigh, Michael let his arms drop suddenly and slap against his sides.

“I don’t even know how to dance,” he mumbled, almost too low for Alex to hear him. Alex gave him a complicated look, somewhere between amusement and pity.

“That’s easy enough to fix. I can teach you that much,” Alex replied, standing up.

“What? No, I don’t want to know! It’s just going to be weird. I’m not going to have anything to do except stand around and drink punch. It’s going to be expensive and lame,” Michael whined, even as he watched Alex go over to his iPod and put it into the stereo he’d brought out to the shed. He ignored Michael’s protests and found a song with an easily recognizable beat. It started up, sounding poppy and electronic, and Michael rolled his eyes. Alex caught him at it.

“Hey, this is going to be easy. Quit being such an ass about it,” Alex griped, coming to stand in front of Michael. He placed his hands on Michael’s hips and looked him straight in the eyes. “Okay. Just follow my movements. Right now we’re just finding the beat.”

Michael swallowed and nodded, throat suddenly dry at the feeling of Alex being close to him and semi-nude and touching him. It seemed Alex put him on a hair-trigger to want sex. With a gentle push and pull, Alex moved Michael and himself back and forth until they were swaying with the beat.

“Okay, this is literally the most basic form of slow dancing. It’s just swaying from side to side. Put your hands on my shoulders and just keep following me,” Alex instructed. Michael raised his arms and lazily draped his arms over Alex’s shoulders like he’d seen every girl do in every teen movie ever. He’d rolled his eyes again as he did it and Alex pinched his side for his sass. “I’m doing you a favor, dipshit. Be nice.”

“Ow! Fine, fine. I’ll be nice. Now what?” Michael asked as they continued to sway. It felt so weird to be standing there in Alex’s shed just shifting his weight back and forth. Without warning, Alex began to pull Michael’s body closer to him while he moved back too. Michael stumbled a little, his foot stepping on the one Alex had kept still.

“Okay, sorry, I didn’t explain. That’s my bad,” Alex apologized once they’d untangled themselves. He grabbed Michael’s hips again and began the original swaying. Once they’d gotten back in rhythm with the song, Alex tried to explain. “So we’re going to basically be moving in a box. Whoever’s leading, so me this time, is always outlining the box with their movements while whoever’s following, you, is tracing the inside of the box.”

Michael gave him a confused look. Making a discontent noise, Alex stepped close until his stomach and hips were resting against Michael’s. Michael gave him a wide-eyed look, wondering if Alex had decided to save dancing for later and more fucking for now…

“Close your eyes,” Alex ordered. Michael closed them obediently, waiting for the gentle pressure of Alex’s lips against his. Instead, Alex continued talking. “Now follow my lead.”

Michael felt the pull of Alex’s body to the right and he instinctually followed. Then Alex moved him backward. It threw Michael off for a second, but then he felt the gentle pressure of Alex’s left leg pressing against his right and he moved that leg back. Then they glided to the left and then Alex was pulling Michael forward. This time he felt which of Alex’s legs was staying still and which was moving away and followed suit. They did this two more times before he felt Alex’s breath by his ear.

“This is a box step. You’re dancing,” he whispered. Despite the heat of the spring day which baked against the poorly insulated shed walls, Michael felt goosebumps break out along his shoulders and chest at the feeling of Alex’s breath against his ear. Opening his eyes, he pulled back to look at Alex’s face and immediately stepped wrong and made them stumble.

“Damnit!” Michael yelled, dropping his arms.

“No, Michael. It’s fine. It just takes practice,” Alex consoled.

“I’m just not made for dancing,” Michael grouched, turning away and taking a few steps to put space between them. The song changed to some other top 100 pop slow jam, and after a minute he felt Alex hook his chin over one of his shoulders and press his chest to Michael’s back. His arms wrapped around Michael’s crossed ones and he immediately started swaying them again.

“You are. Dancing isn’t so different from fucking. It’s about tempo and rhythm and matching or counterpointing movements. You’re great at fucking, you could be good at dancing,” Alex said quietly. He started kissing Michael’s neck and shoulder intently and heat started to pool in Michael’s gut at the feeling of Alex pressing against him and moving slowly. “Maybe you can dance with me at prom and I’ll make sure you don’t make a fool of yourself?”

“You want to dance with me at prom? Isn’t that a bit… public?” Michael asked. He didn’t really mind it being public, but he didn’t want Alex to say something and not realize the consequences.

“We’ll be out of here in a couple months anyway. Fuck ‘em if they can’t hang, right?” Alex said, voice tight behind his teasing tone.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll dance with you at prom then,” Michael replied easily. He turned his head and Alex kissed the corner of his mouth.

“You’re a good friend. I wouldn’t have anyone to dance with either without you,” Alex said. Michael’s heart ached against his ribs, but he nodded anyway.

“We didn’t get to dance at prom,” Alex said simply when the silence stretched.

“No, you had to go get into a fight with Valenti before I could get in from pictures with Iz and Max,” Michael agreed.

“Wish we had,” Alex replied, sounding wistful.

“Yeah, me too,” Michael agreed. The silence was sad now and he hated it. Michael tried to think of something to say. Clearing his throat, he went with the first thing that came to his mind. “So you adding rice to that stirfry or something?”

“Uh, I was going to just get some like minute rice and dump it on top when I reheated this,” Alex explained. Michael grimaced and Alex laughed.

“Jerk,” Alex said, but a smile was back on his face.

“Just let me know if you end up in the hospital with food poisoning. I’ll send you flowers,” Michael replied with a grin.

“Ugh, shut UP! It’s fine!” Alex exclaimed, grabbing a fork from a drawer and scooping up some onto it. “See?!”

He put it in his mouth and Michael waited. He saw him grimace and chew slowly.

“So good, right?” Michael teased.

“It’s fine,” Alex said after swallowing. Michael waited, Alex and he looked at each other through the screen, before Alex grimaced and then stood up abruptly. “UGH, FINE! It’s gross!”

Michael chuckled.

“Poor baby,” Michael cooed. Alex flipped him off but laughed along with him.

“Yeah, poor me. Well, shit. Now I have to clean all this up and I have nothing to show for it,” Alex groused. Michael watched him rub his hands over his face in frustration and stare at the pan of ruined food.

“Going to try again?” Michael asked. Alex looked over at him and shook his head.

“No. I gotta get to bed. It’s already late. This was just kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision anyway,” Alex replied morosely.

“Hey, you’ll get it next time. Just call me and I’ll walk you through it on video,” Michael offered. Alex sighed and nodded.

“Probably for the best,” he agreed. “Well, I better get to bed. It was nice seeing your face.”

“It was good seeing yours. Miss you,” Michael said before he could chicken out.

“Miss you too. Night,” Alex said with a smile.

“Night,” Michael replied before the call ended. He took a deep sigh and set his phone down on his chest before taking a sip of his lukewarm beer.

Damn, he missed that fucker.

[stardew-goblin]

why their favourite items are their favourite items for the bachelorettes? you can just pick one item if you like

OH I’ve been thinking about this since I started playing! I tried to do the things that aren’t as commonly thought about as favorites. I hope you enjoy! Thank you ily <3

HA so after doing all of the bachelors I re-read and realized it was only an ask for the bachelorettes SO you get both now hehe

Sebastian

Favorite thing: Pumpkin soup

His dad left them in the fall which is why he has an aversion to most of the autumn seasonal flavors

He was really attached to his dad as a baby so when he abandoned them it hurt Sebastian really badly

The one thing he can’t seem to stay away from is pumpkin soup though

Robin actually has cooked it since he can remember

It was his dads favorite too

It brings back the good memories he has from when his parents were together

Robin only makes it when Maru and Demetrius are out together doing sciency things

They sit on the couch together and watch old movies and bond while they eat it but Robin keeps it a secret because she knows he doesn’t like to come across as a softie

She’ll also make him some if she knows he’s particularly down. She’ll just run it down to his room, kiss him on the forehead, remind him that she’s always there if he needs to talk, and leaves him be

Sam

Favorite thing: Tigerseye

Before Kent could afford the mermaid pendant for Jodi, his mom gave him an old tigerseye ring to propose with

Sam always though it was more romantic than a stupid mermaid pendant (basic, duh)

He used to sit on his grandma’s lap as a kid and she would tell him all about his grandpa who died before Sam was born

He was poor, too, when they got married and he managed to trade some manual labor for the ring

It always reminds him of his family and how much he loves them

100% will propose with a tigerseye ring instead of a mermaid pendant

Harvey

Favorite thing: Coffee

Started drinking coffee in middle school

His grandma would always brew a pot while he was over and they would sit and chat about life

The smell of coffee always reminds him of her

He still makes it how she would make it for him. 2 spoonfuls of sugar. That’s it.

He regularly uses the coffee cup he would always use at her house

It has ducks on it with blue trim

Every year on the anniversary of her death he’ll bring a thermos and two cups and sit at her grave and drink coffee and talk about how life is going

He misses his grandma very much

Elliott

Favorite thing: Pomegranate

He knew Leah before he moved to the valley

They’ve been best friends for years

He gets sick a lot and tends to forget to take care of himself sometimes

Leah has always made sure he was okay

She would bring him fruits and soup and make sure he was staying hydrated

One day she brought a few pomegranates

How the fUCK do you eat a pomegranate ??

Leah help me please for the love Yoba what is this weird ass fruit you’ve brought to me on my death bed

Once he actually ate some though, he could not get enough.

It was the first thing he could actually taste in days and it was so sweet and flavorful

He will not buy his own pomegranates though.

It has to be a gift or it’s not the same

Shane

Favorite thing: Hot pepper

Used to struggle with really bad anxiety

He would disassociate a lot

Struggled with mental grounding techniques

So one day is dad was like

Here son

Bite into this hot ass pepper

It was so spicy that it snapped Shane back into reality

He used to keep a ziplock bag of hot peppers in his pocket

Sometimes will still bite into one if he’s particularly going through it

One time gave Sam one at work and told him it wasn’t spicy

Sam cried in the bathroom for 20 minutes

Now Shane has to keep his waterbottles with him at all times because Sam puts weird stuff in them as payback

Alex

Favorite thing: complete breakfast

Alex never wanted to leave his room after his mom died

He would cry himself to sleep every night

He refused to eat with his grandparents

Evelyn would make him hashbrowns, eggs, and pancakes with a side of milk every morning

And would leave it in his room for him to eat when he was hungry

And would always stick a note on the tray reading “breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I love you always. Grandma.”

She never pressured him to do something he didn’t want to do

But ALWAYS reminded him that he was loved

Complete breakfast reminds him that Evelyn loves him no matter what

It will always feel like a warm hug

Abigail

Favorite thing: Pufferfish

When Abigail was little, Pierre and Caroline used to take her to the aquarium in Zuzu City

Her favorite was always the pufferfish

She felt like she could relate to them

Always keeping people at an arms length

Tough when she has to be

She used to collect pufferfish plushies

Does not actually eat them

She could never

But she likes how you can die from consuming them incorrectly

Kicking ass from beyond the grave

Haley

Favorite thing: Coconut

She actually likes the smell more than anything but is a sucker for coconut shavings on her desserts

She’s allergic to coconut

But it isn’t deadly

Emily used to use coconut body spray to hide the weed smell when she was in high school

Haley thought Emily was so cool

Will always remind her of when her and her sister got along better

Haley has a mean streak but is very sentimental

She’ll still tease Emily about it

Keeps a small bottle of coconut body spray in her room for when she needs to feel better

Will not admit to anyone ever about why she likes coconut so much

Penny

Favorite thing: Tom Kha Soup

Elliott actually introduced Penny to the dish

Penny and Pam had gotten into a particularly nasty argument which left Penny in tears

It was pouring but she needed out of the trailer

She went to sit on the docks to listen to the ocean until she calmed down

Elliott saw her sitting alone in the cold rain and invited her inside

He was just about to sit down for one of his favorites, Tom Kha soup, and gladly prepared a bowl for Penny

She had never been close to Elliott even though she saw him at the library often

The soup was delicious

And she was blown away by his kindness and how easily she felt comfortable talking to him

She tries to cook it (it’s terrible)

She always beings some to Elliott (he never comments on how awful it is, and politely accepts it)

(He throws it in the ocean when she’s gone though)

Emily

Favorite thing: Survival burger

Emily is a vegetarian

Her favorite food before she went vegetarian was cheeseburgers

Her first girlfriend showed her how to make burgers from eggplant

She is the one who showed Gus how to make them and season them properly to taste good

She got Haley hooked on them too

She’s lowkey one of those vegetarians that wants everyone to be a vegetarian

Her favorite recipe to show off because it really does taste like a frickin burger

Maru

Favorite thing: Rhubarb Pie

Maru really wishes that she and Sebastian were still close

As small children they did everything together

She looked up to her big brother

They used to play in the lake by their house during summers

She would always catch frogs. It was her favorite thing.

They would come into the cool house when the sun went down and lounge on the couch watching cartoons

Robin would frequently make Rhubarb pie for dessert

Maru and Sebastian loved it

They would eat it in front of the TV and joke around with each other

Rhubarb Pie still reminds her of those warm summer nights when her big brother was still her best friend

Leah

Favorite thing: stir fry

The first time she ever tried stir fry was right before she moved to the valley

Like literally her last meal in the city was stir fry from a restaurant around the corner from her old apartment

It was their only option that had mostly vegetables and oh my Yoba was it delicious

The day she moved was the most hopeful day she’s ever had in her life

New beginnings were terrifying but Leah knew everything would be okay

She always makes stir fry before she tries something she’s terrified to do

It reminds her that new things are scary but she can really do anything she puts her mind to

[pearl-pilots-in-chains]

Ice Cream Expertise (All the Little Lights #1)

Fandom: Neon Genesis Evangelion

Ships: Kawoshin

Rating: G

Summary: Shinji is faced with a dilemma of sorts, and is characteristically indecisive. Fortunately, Kaworu is there to give some helpful advice. Or maybe just call himself an ice cream expert. Let's be honest, it's a bit of both.

Notes: This is intended to be the start to All the Little Lights, my attempt at a relatively happy Evangelion high school AU featuring the pilots we know (and maybe love) actually getting to live a normal life (including all the cute gay romance they deserve). That said, it also works totally fine as a one shot. Considering it's an AU, there's going to be some rather interesting deviations from canon, some of which are alluded to here. So, if something seems off, that's probably because it is.

As usual, any errors, grammatical or typographical, are mine. I apologize in advance.

This was originally posted to my old AO3 on May 21, 2020. I hope you enjoy it!

_________________________________________________________

Shinji Ikari was not having a good day. No, perhaps that was an understatement. He was having a distinctly bad day. School had been tedious to say the least, considering that testing week was approaching, and the teachers seemed to be doing their best to “prepare” the students using every form of academic torture known to humankind. Okay, perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration, but it had been a hectic hell all the same. Not to mention the fact that his best friend Touji was going through a rough patch (not the first one, mind you), with his girlfriend Hikari, which led to a tense mood within their friend group outside of class as well. Adding onto this was the fact that he was getting worried about his sister (what wasn’t new?) Rei, who had been especially quiet the past week or so, even by her standards. That was usually a sign that her depression was going through a rough spot. He had wanted to mention something to his mother about it, considering she usually had better luck at getting through to Rei than he did when his sister was going through a difficult time, but unsurprisingly, he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. He was gone too often, and his mother was gone too often. There was all of a one to two hour period when they were both home and awake on any given night. Rei always ending up alone probably doesn’t help her state of mind improve either. I wish she had more friends. People she could connect with.

And, of course, to top all that wonderful baggage off, he had had work after school, which had gone lovely. Just lovely. A simply wonderful group of customers had come in, and stayed for a better part of three hours, ordering intermittently while they all talked (way too loudly, in his opinion) at their shared table, which, in a predictable move, they hadn’t even bothered to clean off. He was a barista, not a waiter, despite what some people seemed to think. To make matters worse, they had been laughing so hard partway through their “discussion,” that one of the party had practically flung her iced latte through the air by accident (how someone could do that by accident, was a whole other topic for conversation), sending its contents flying halfway across the room (in a bafflingly impressive display, he had to admit, as irritating as it was). Of course, he had drawn the short straw and been the one tasked with cleaning it up. His boss seemed to get a special satisfaction out of giving Shinji all the “fun,” jobs. Okay, maybe Mr. Anno’s not that bad, but he still gets a kick out of watching me suffer. Or something like that.

Shinji sighed as he pulled his car into the store parking spot. As he exited it, he glanced down at his phone. 7:16. That meant he should have enough time to get home and get dinner going before his mother got home. These days, it seemed as though she worked progressively later and later. It had been a couple months since she’d been home before 8. She was almost certainly still out at the base at that moment. Whatever project she’s working on now is one of the more intensive ones.

He headed for the doors. He was planning on making stir fry, which meant that he needed to get soy sauce for sure, since he knew they had run out from the last time. He thought they had most of the rest of what he needed at home. So, this should be a quick run. Just in and out. After a day like today though, he was tempted to grab something sweet. Come on, after this whole mess, I think I at least half deserve something to take my mind off of it. Just a little.

Inside, he made a bee line for the condiments aisle. Alright, first things first. Get what I need. Then, maybe, I’ll just check out what they have. He grabbed soy sauce, and then wavered for a moment, trying to decide just for what he was in the mood. Okay, just something little. Nothing too big. I am going to be cooking, after all. Hmmm . . . I mean, it’s probably not the best idea, but . . .

Making his decision, he set off for the frozen section. Once again, he paused when he arrived at the aisle, looking through the glass freezer doors at the available options. I’ll just get a pint. That should be more than enough. Even if Rei goes for some too. ‘Cause mom hardly ever eats anything sweet, so I doubt she’ll have any. He tilted his head, tapping the soy sauce bottle against his thigh as he considered the selection. Why are there so many flavors? I didn’t even realize they sold Pumpkin outside of November. And Lime-Raspberry? What would that even taste like? Who comes up with these things? I’ll go for something classic. I could always do Vanilla. But, that’s a little boring. I don’t even really like it that much. Chocolate’s always classic, except that Rei doesn’t like it. And her favorite is Cookie Dough, which I don’t like the texture of . . . there are way too many choices here. Running his eyes over the racks, he did a quick count. Forty-two different flavors. Why are there forty-two different flavors? I wonder if anyone’s ever tried them all. Then again, that might take a while. And be kind of pricey. Dammit, I’m getting distracted again. The only conclusion that Shinji was coming to was the fact that he liked ice cream far too much, and was wasting far more time than he should be trying to pick out something. Maybe I should just get the soy sauce and head home. He peaked down at his phone. 7:29. Yeah, I’ve already been here longer than I should be.

A voice interrupted Shinji’s thoughts. “So, what’s your drug of choice?”

Shinji head snapped to the side, his concentration broken. “What?,” He asked, a little surprised.

The source of the interruption was standing a little further down the aisle, casually leaning on one of the freezer windows, his head cocked to the side, watching Shinji with a friendly smile on his face. Shinji thought the interrupter looked to be about the same age as him, though that fact was complicated slightly by the fact that though his face was youthful, his hair was an ashen grey. He must dye it. Is grey hair a style though? The interrupting individual sported a pair of black jeans and a band shirt for a group whose name looked vaguely familiar to Shinji. Porcupine Tree . . . I feel like Rei might listen to them. Maybe. Not to mention the fact that the newcomer had red eyes. Red eyes. Okay, so maybe this is a look he’s going for. I mean, those are definitely contacts, right? Unless there’s a genetic mutation I’ve never heard of, I don’t think humans can be born with red eyes. Which means that they’re contacts. Which means that the hair is almost definitely dyed too. I’m pretty sure that’s not what ‘scene’ looks like . . . there’d be brighter colors . . . and I don’t think it’s emo either . . . I’m pretty sure his hair would be black then . . . huh . . . maybe that’s goth. Yeah. Let’s go with that. In addition to making him second guess what scene fashion looked like, Shinji’s visual analysis of the interrupter also led him to a more definite conclusion. That regardless of what category his fashion fell under, he was pretty cute. Seriously Shinji, focus here, and stop thinking about how some random boy in Safeway who asked you what type of drugs you like is cute. Don’t be an idiot. Sure, you haven’t been on a date in months, ever since Martin broke up with you, but he was a manipulative jerk anyway— Shinji realized the interrupter had started talking again, which snapped him back into reality and out of his wandering mind.

“Yeah. What flavor is your favorite. I mean, out of the forty-two, there has to be one you’d pick, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. Probably cookies ’n’ cream,” Shinji answered, feeling more than a bit confused. On an afterthought, he added, “You’ve counted all the flavors too?”

“Not a bad choice,” the boy said with a firm nod. “Although, I’m more into mint chocolate chip myself. And yes, I’ve counted them all. It’s an important part to being an ice cream expert. Keeping track of the available flavors at the nearest store.”

“Okaayyy.” Shinji’s tone betrayed his uncertainty concerning just how he should deal with this stranger. “Ice cream expert?”

“Yep, that would be me,” the boy replied matter-of-factly, as though the question was a pointless one. He strolled over to Shinji and extended his hand. “Kaworu Akagi, ice cream expert, at your service.”

Shinji shook the offered hand, deciding he should be polite, despite the fact that his perplexity had not been substantially diminished in any way. This guy is . . . interesting, to say the least. As their hands met, Shinji was struck by the strange, but intense, sense that this wasn’t his first time meeting Kaworu.

“Shinji Ikari.” Against his better judgement, he decided to follow his introduction with, “Have we met before?”

Retracting his hand, Kaworu pursed his lips, ostensibly mulling over the question in his mind. After a few moments, he shook his head. “I don’t think so. At least, not that I can recall. I just got into town a few days ago. Why do you ask?”

Shinji shrugged, trying to play off his earlier question. “Oh, I think you just reminded me of someone I used to know.”

Kaworu nodded, seeming to accept this answer. “Ah, that makes sense. So, have you come to a conclusion, or would you like a second opinion?”

Shinji raised an eyebrow. “About the ice cream, you mean?”

“Indeed. That is the topic on the floor, as they say,” Kaworu responded nonchalantly.

Shinji blinked. “Who says?”

“Why, they do of course.”

“Oh. Umm, alright.” Shinji looked back through the window, surveying his options once more. A obvious choice didn’t present itself. “Well . . . I suppose a second opinion probably wouldn’t hurt.”

“Great,” Kaworu stated, his tone even and pleasant. “Any occasion in particular you’re buying for?”

Shinji shook his head. “Nope, not really. Just . . .” he hesitated, uncertain how much he wanted to tell someone who was still basically a stranger to him. “Just a bad day,” was what he ended up deciding on.

Kaworu pretended to stroke nonexistent hairs on his chin, nodding slowly as did so, in an amusing imitation of the stereotypical philosopher. “Hmm . . . ice cream for a bad day, you say?”

“Uh. Yeah. I guess so.”

“I’d have to recommend Cherry Chip for that. It’s a guaranteed mood improver from my experience. It is nearly impossible to feel down while you’re eating Cherry Chip ice cream.”

“Really?” Shinji’s ice wandered down the display, finally locating the flavor in question. Fortunately, they had it in pint size, which meant that the option was on the table. He couldn’t think of any reason not to go for it. As far as he knew, Rei liked Cherry Chip. At least, he thought she did. He wasn’t entirely sure that he’d ever seen her eat it. For that matter, he wasn’t entirely sure that he’d ever eaten it himself. Which means it might be pretty good, and I just don’t know it yet. You never know. “Really. Trust me, I’ve tested its potency. It won’t let you down.”

“Alright. Why not?” Shinji opened the door and grabbed a pint of Cherry Chip. He examined the container in his hands for a few seconds, before looking back up at Kaworu, who now seemed to be smiling in encouragement, which had the effect of making him look even cuter than before. Come on Shinji, don’t get distracted! Sure, he might be attractive, but he’s also a self-proclaimed ice cream expert. . . not sure whether that’s a good or a bad thing yet, to be honest.

“That’ll do the job,” Kaworu remarked, in a straightforward tone that made it sound as though he was utterly confident in the truth of his words.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Shinji furrowed his brow as another question popped into his mind. “Hey .. . you said you just got into town a few days ago. How is it that you already know all the different flavors they have here?”

“It was one of the first things I scoped out after we got into town. Always important to know what kind of ice cream game you’re going to be dealing with. Plus, I had plenty of free time once we finished unpacking, considering I won’t be in school up here until the fall.”

“Ah, okay. That makes sense.” Almost on a whim, Shinji was tempted to ask Kaworu where he had moved from, but decided that could come across as prying a little too much, since Kaworu hadn’t offered that information. As it was, Kaworu gave a partial answer to the question without Shinji even verbalizing it.

“School down south ends earlier. Though, to be fair, it also starts earlier there as well. We left a couple days after my semester ended. Which means I currently have relatively few obligations, other than locating and obtaining a job for the summer.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Shinji still wasn’t exactly sure how to respond, but he decided to field a question of his own. He figured it could come across as a polite inquiry, rather than being nosy, taking into account what Kaworu had just revealed. “So, what brought you up north?”

“My mother got transferred out to the base,” Kaworu returned offhandedly.

Shinji tilted his head in response to this answer, the gears in his brain turning. Well, that’s interesting. He almost wanted to make some sort of follow-up remark expressing their similarity in that regard, but he decided that might be a bit too much to say for the moment. Instead, he merely offered a casually, “I gotcha.” He continued with an amiable, “Well, welcome to Asherdale,” along with a more ironic, “It’s halfway decent, once you get used to it.”

Kaworu’s face broken into a grin at the humor, an expression that Shinji couldn’t help but feel made him look all the more attractive. Oops, getting distracted again. . . don’t do that . . . too much.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Kaworu said warmly.

“No problem.” The thought suddenly entering his mind, Shinji shot a momentary glance down at his phone. Hmm, what time is it? The answer was 7:37. 7:37?! I’ve been talking for eight minutes?! That felt like four or five at the most. I have to bail, now, if I’m going to make it home in time to get cooking.

He looked back up at Kaworu, who was still watching him, his gaze soft, the smile still on his face, his head tilted to the side. Shinji had the strange feeling that if it had been anyone else, the observational pose the boy had struck would have looked unusual, to say the least, but somehow, on Kaworu, it didn’t look half bad. It gives him a kind of elegant aesthetic . . . okay, where did I come up with that? I definitely need to head out.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry to leave so quick, but I need to get going.” Shinji cringed a little internally, hearing the awkward tone in his voice. You could have said that in a way that didn’t basically announced the fact that it made you flustered. Great going.

“Understandable. You wouldn’t want that ice cream to melt before you get the chance to test out its powers.”

“Haha, yeah, you know it.”

Kaworu nodded, imply that yes, he did indeed know it. “Why don’t I give you my number?” He remarked. “That way, you’ll have someone on hand for any future ice cream dilemmas.”

“Ahhh . . .” Okay, that was actually kind of smooth, in an odd way. And . . . it’s not like it could really hurt anything. I mean, he didn’t even ask for my number. Which means he’s not even necessarily flirting with me. It’d probably be a bit of stretch to say he is. After all, if I have his number, and he doesn’t have mine, that means I can choose whether I want to text him or not, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Which isn’t really a good way to flirt with somebody. I think I’m stalling again here . . .”

Shinji noticed Kaworu was watching him again, waiting for a response. “Sure. Sounds like a good plan.” He pulled out his phone and hastily created a new contact, before offering it to Kaworu. “Here, you can put it in.”

Kaworu nodded, his smile remaining intact, and typed in the digits, before handing it back to Shinji. “It was nice to meet you, Shinji Ikari,” he commented affably.

“You can just call me Shinji,” Shinji quickly responded.

“Alright then. It was nice to meet you Shinji.”

“You too . . .” Should I use first and last name like he did the first time? Or just go with first name. I don’t want to offend him, if that’s the sort of thing that’s important to him. After all, he does seem a bit, umm, particular.

“You can just call me Kaworu,” the boy suggested, his smile widening.

“It was nice to meet you Kaworu,” he finished lamely. “Guess I’ll see you around.”

“Yes, maybe so.”

Shinji nodded again, spun on his heels, and promptly made for the registers. Well, that went excellently. You meet a boy who’s kind of cute, even if he is a little eccentric, and straight off the bat, you’re second guessing yourself and fumbling for words. Fantastic.

Shinji shot a brief glance back as he reached the end of the aisle, to see that Kaworu was now retrieving an ice cream carton of his own from the merchandise freezer. Shinji turned away again before the boy could look back in his direction. Don’t want him to think I’m staring at him or something.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shinji collapsed back onto his bed with a satisfied sigh. He was glad to have finally reach it, after the nigh-interminable day. Well, maybe not quite interminable. But definitely overlong. Without much thought, he grabbed his phone from his nightstand and spun in about in his hands a couple times, feeling the sensation of the textured case against his skin.

Dinner had been a success, such as it could be, anyway. He had impressed himself with just how fast he managed to throw things together when he went into slight (well, maybe more than slight) panic mode.

The ice cream had been a success as well. He had to admit, Cherry Chip was a pretty good flavor. He still wasn’t sure whether he had tried it before or not, but he was glad he had definitively tried it now. Rei had also enjoyed it, which was an added plus. In fact, their mother had even had a bowl, something altogether unexpected. Apparently, Cherry Chip ice cream was one of the sweets she would indulge in. Didn’t see that coming. All in all, the majority of the pint was no more.

Powering on his phone, Shinji was faced with another choice for the evening. Unlike his earlier ice cream deliberation, however, this cerebration was of a cursory duration. After a few seconds, he had composed the text, and was hovering over the send button. Alright. Let’s do this. He tapped the icon.

Shinji I.: Thanks for the recommendation. It was a good choice! Lol. This is Shinji, btw.

The response to his message came swiftly. Wow, he must type fast.

Kaworu A.: Happy to be of service. I’m glad it worked out.

Shinji found a smile edging its way across his lips. Maybe, in spite of everything, today wasn’t such a bad day after all.

[interrogatethecat]

Of Husbands and Murder

word count: 3k

written for the prompt “Noir” for Their Love Was Real

Dean had a great life.

He worked as a mechanic during the day, and he loved his job. Every evening, he came home to his husband. Said husband made some fucking awesome pie. On weekends, he played DnD with his best friend. His brother called him at least once a week from college.

And, of course, he was a serial killer.

Late at night, sometimes Dean would get an itch that he had to scratch. A thirst that couldn’t be quenched. Nothing else did it. The only thing that sated it were the pained screams of whoever he had tied to his chair and the blood that spilled across the warehouse floor. The only thing that truly satisfied him was cleaning up after, seeing the flecks of blood mixed in with his freckles, and the dangerous glint in his eyes.

When he got home and the itch was scratched, he’d crawl back into bed, and in the morning, Cas would be none the wiser that he had ever been gone, and life continued.

Change someone’s oil. Fix the brakes on a Toyota. Come home covered in grease. Take a shower. Steal kisses from his husband. Hang out with Charlie on weekends. Jokingly remind Sam not to go to any keggers. Off someone. Repeat. Such was the life of Dean Winchester.

This time, the itch came in the middle of January.

the rest + tag list below the cut, or on a03 here.

Like most November days, it was blustery and cold. Dean liked it that way. If someone off the streets went missing, well, it would be assumed that they froze to death. Days would pass before the body would be found, marked and warranting a front page headline. Easier for him.

“Boy! You got any spark plugs there?”

“Uh….” Dean glanced around the area where he was working. “Nope. Sorry, Bobby.”

“Balls. We’re out.”

“What do you need them for?” Dean asked, turning back to the engine he was working with. “Someone need theirs replaced?”

Bobby leveled him with a glare from beneath his baseball cap. “No, I wanna turn ‘em into a necklace. Yes, a customer needs them.”

Dean raised his hands in surrender. “Woah. Didn’t know if you were just asking for inventory.”

“Since when do I do inventory? That’s Kevin’s job. He’s got exams, though, so he’s preoccupied at the moment.”

“He didn’t leave a list?”

Bobby huffed. “He did, but I can’t read it.”

Dean straightened up, wiping his hands on a towel. “Here, let me see.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow at him. “You think you can crack it.”

“How hard can it be?” Dean scoffed. “I had to read Sammy’s handwriting for years, I think I can manage Kev’s.”

Bobby grumbled something under his breath, moving towards his office.

Dean watched him disappear behind a large truck. When he was alone, the thirst came back, more persistent than it had been.

Tonight, Dean figured. He’d take care of it tonight. Just a few more hours of his shift, he’d see Cas, then he’d grab someone off the streets and parch his thirst.

Bobby came back and shoved a notebook into Dean’s hands. “Still think you can read it?”

Dean squinted at the— was that even writing? “The hell?”

“Exactly,” Bobby said.

“That’s not writing, it’s chicken scratch,” Dean said, shoving the notebook back at him. “Tell Kevin to type his notes instead.”

The day continued. Dean fixed a set of taillights on a pickup truck, changed the oil on a Honda, had to deal with the broken brakes on a Prius. By the time his shift was over, he was covered head to toe in grease. Just another day on the job.

After toweling the worst of it off, Dean gave Bobby a wave and made his way outside.

Singer’s Auto and Parts consisted of a large, out of the way garage that connected to a small room Bobby used as his office, a large parking lot out back for the cars they were fixing up, and a cracked stretch of asphalt where the employees parked. Not the most glamorous, but then again, neither was Dean.

He ducked into the Impala, the corner of his mouth turning up as her engine rumbled. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant oranges, inky purples, and all the shades in between. Rush hour had just ended, leaving the streets emptying of cars but not deserted. Led Zeppelin blaring, Dean pulled out onto the road, headed for home.

He missed every red light, and within fifteen minutes, was pulling into the driveway and parking the car.

Cas was already inside, curled up on the couch, papers spread out on the coffee table in front of him. He looked up when Dean came in and smiled. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean smiled back. “Hey, Cas. ‘Nother essay?”

Cas shook his head. “Creative writing. Some of them are very good. Actually, I’m rather impressed by a number of them. This one, on the other hand….”

“Well, lemme take a shower, and then I’ll rescue you. Deal?”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Cas said. “Please, hurry.”

Dean mock saluted. “Yes, sir.”

Cas rolled his eyes.

As promised, the shower was quick, and in no time, Dean had shifted Cas’ papers aside and thrown himself down on the couch next to him. He dropped a kiss on the top of Cas’ head and threw an arm around him.

Cas leaned against him, head settling against Dean’s shoulder. “Marie is an excellent student,” he said, “and very creative, but I fail to understand her obsession with robots, ninjas, and ‘subtext.’”

Dean huffed a laugh. “‘Course you don’t.”

Cas looked away from his paper to glare at him.

Dean laughed harder. “It’s cute, Cas.”

The glare didn’t cease. “I don’t want to be cute. I’m not cute.”

“Whatever gets you through the night,” Dean said.

“You're insufferable,” Cas said.

“You love me anyway.”

“Yes.”

Dean grinned. “Love you, too.”

The itch squirmed beneath his skin, in his very bones. It was always better, more under control around Cas, but never gone.

He had to keep the night moving. As much as he loved this time with his husband, the itch was there and needed scratching. He needed to make someone bleed, needed to hurt, to kill. None of which would happen while Cas was still awake.

“So,” Dean said, “how do you feel about takeout for tonight? Because I really don’t wanna cook anything, and it’s kinda late.”

Cas nodded. “Chinese?”

“Sounds good. Want me to order?”

“As long as you don’t ‘forget’ to order stir fry or something else with vegetables.”

Dean groaned as he stood up. “Why the hell would you want vegetables?”

“Because they’re good.”

This time, Dean was the one to roll his eyes. “Fine. You owe me, though.”

Cas smirked triumphantly for the remainder of the night. It was especially wide when Dean actually ate the stir fry.

Not that Dean would ever admit it, but it was actually pretty good. Maybe a little more than pretty good.

By the time he and Cas were in bed, it was nearing ten o’clock. Surprisingly early. Cas seemed to have wanted to get into bed as well, which was unusual. When Dean asked him about it, he just shrugged it off and said, “I’ve been working since five o’clock this morning, I think I deserve a break.”

Dean pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Sure thing, angel.”

Something flashed briefly in Cas’ eyes, there and gone too quickly for Dean to dissect.

They crawled into bed, Dean curled protectively around Cas, listening to Cas’ breathing even out. Cas was so peaceful like this. Any other night, Dean would have stayed awake, kept watching him until he drifted off. Taking in every bit of Cas he could. But tonight….

As gently as he could, Dean extracted himself from around Cas, taking care not to disturb him. The bed creaked as he stood up, but there wasn’t any other movement. Good.

He crept through the house quietly, grabbing the keys off the counter, wincing when the door squeaked on his way out.

This time when Dean drove, there was no music. Just him, his car, the road, and the itch, the desire, the need. Clawing its way out from his core, begging for blood and screams. Just one person. That was all he needed. A person and a knife, and it would be dealt with. His knives had been left there. Now, all he needed was a guest.

There was a homeless person, dumpster diving in an alley that Dean saw halfway into the city. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen. His oversized coat was dirty, and his face smudged with grime. He was no one.

Perfect.

The Impala slowed and stopped on the side of the road.

“Need a lift?”

The kid looked up.

“I’ve also got a spare room, if you need it,” Dean added.

The kid’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Hop on in.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” the kid asked suspiciously.

Dean shrugged. “Just gonna have to.”

“What’s your name?”

“Dean,” Dean said. “You?”

“Alfie,” the kid offered.

“Well, Alfie,” Dean said, putting on his most charming smile, “I’ll ask again: need a lift?”

Alfie got into the car.

The blood pounding in Dean’s ears with need got louder as Alfie slammed the passenger door shut behind him. Giving him no time to react, Dean seized the back of his head and slammed it against the dashboard. There was a satisfying thunk, and the kid’s eyes unfocused before he passed out.

Dean hit the gas.

________________

The warehouse was on the far edge of the city, far enough out that Dean wasn’t even sure it was a part of the city.

The building was rusting and dirty and old and abandoned. A little cliché, but since when had that hurt anyone?

Dean parked the Impala behind the warehouse, then ducked outside the car. He popped open the trunk. Shuffling aside some reusable bags, Dean found his buried stash of zip ties. Pocketing a few, he slammed the trunk shut, then went around to the passenger side door.

Alfie was still out cold. He didn’t even stir when Dean picked him up bridal style and carried him into the warehouse. Didn’t move when Dean used the zip ties to tie him to a chair, or grabbed some duct tape off a bench and covered his mouth.

He probably had at least ten minutes until he would come to. Ten minutes to kill. Ten minutes to decide what he wanted to do tonight to make him scream.

Dean kept his knives by a workbench in the far corner of the main room. To the best of his knowledge, it was your standard serial killer set-up; a wide array of weapons of varying sizes, shapes, and sharpness. Above them he had hung newspaper clippings, each with a headline pertaining to him.

Body Discovered Bearing Demonic Symbol

New Body Found, Not the Work of Angel Killer

Cult in Sioux Falls?

One Wasn’t Enough: Two Serial Killers in Sioux Falls?

Serial Killer on the Loose

Sioux Falls Murderer Dubbed “Demon Killer”

Demon Kills Again

Demon and Angel Killers Strike Again

Another Body Found With Demon Mark

Two Bodies Found In One Night

Trail of Bodies Leads Nowhere

Heaven and Hell Working Together?

Theories About Angel and Demon Killers Run Rampant

Some of the most recent articles made Dean the most curious. No longer was he the only person in Sioux Falls with the extra curricular activity murder. And this someone, dubbed the Angel Killer because of their tendency to spray paint coronas over the heads of their victims, had been around since before Dean moved there. Then Dean had started offing people. There was no connection between the two of them. And then, for whatever reason, this Angel Killer had started killing on the same nights as Dean. Why was that? Accidents didn’t happen accidentally. There was something there, more to it that coincidence, Dean was sure. But what?

Alfie groaned, the sound muffled slightly by the tape.

Dean grabbed a blade off the table, then turned to look at Alfie. “Good, You’re awake.”

Alfie was still out of it, struggling to make sense of the situation. His eyes widened when he saw the knife Dean was twirling in one hand.

This knife, in particular, was one of Dean’s favorites. It had a sturdy handle, and an even hardier blade. Part of it was sharp, smooth enough to slice skin with so much of a brush, while the other part of it was serrated like the jaws of some creature, perfect for ripping and tearing away chunks of flesh. Elegant and savage, all at once.

Dean smiled at the kid dangerously. “Glad you’re up. Would’ve had to go on without you if you hadn’t woken up in the next few minutes. After this, I’ve gotta get home. Work tomorrow. Husband to get back to.”

Alfie tried to shout something.

“Not gonna work, buddy. You’re not the first one to try.” He took a few steps closer, then used the tip of the blade to force up Alfie’s chin. “So,” Dean said, “ready to have some fun?”

There was a strangled sob as Dean lightly dragged the tip of the knife down Alfie’s throat, stopping when he reached his clavicle. With a swift motion, he sliced open the front of the kid’s jacket and shirt, exposing the upper part of his chest. It rose and fell rapidly, nothing like the calm inhales and exhales of Cas falling asleep. While that made something inside him flare warmly, this— the raw, unfiltered panic— filled him with satisfaction.

Dean smiled as he made his first incisions into the kid, felt more and more alive with each scream. Happily watched the blood drip to the floor, pool around the chair as he carved. This wasn’t his most precise work, but he only had a little while before he had to be back in bed. It didn’t matter that it was sloppy; it did the job.

Only after his chest and face had been completely mangled did Dean roll up the kid’s sleeve. With steady hands, he carved his signature into Alfie’s forearm, a seven-like shape that dug into the flesh. Dean took pleasure in the kid's heaving chest, reveled in knowing that his lungs weren’t getting enough air.

“Thanks, kid.” Dean grinned at him as he made the final line of the design, then drove the knife into his chest.

Alfie gargled wetly, then—

Nothing.

His body sagged in the chair, bound and bloody and lifeless.

The itch was gone.

Dean admired his work for a few moments, then pivoted to grab a cloth from his workbench to clean the blood off his knife. As he was wiping it down, there was a voice from behind him.

“So you’re the Demon Killer.”

Dean froze. He knew that voice.

“I always wondered what you did when you disappeared,” Cas said.

Dean turned around.

Cas was standing on the other side of the chair. He looked incredibly out of place amongst the carnage; he was still wearing his ridiculous bee pajamas, only with his trench coat thrown over them. His attention was turned to Alfie’s corpse. “You know what you’re doing,” Cas noted, as though this was a perfectly normal conversation. “It’s quite impressive. I should have expected as much, given your skills in the kitchen.”

“What are you doing here?” Dean demanded.

Cas finally looked at him, his expression one of interest. “I thought I said that. I wanted to know what you did when you left at night,” he said simply. “This isn’t what I expected, but… you always are full of surprises.”

“Why now?”

“Curiosity finally got the better of me. I figured I could hold off on my plans for a few weeks longer.”

The gears in Dean’s head started turning. “Your… plans?” Dean said slowly.

Cas nodded. His eyes flickered behind Dean, to the newspaper articles.

Dean shook his head as he connected the dots. “No way,” he said. “Absolutely not. You’re not— you can’t be—“

“The so-called ‘Angel Killer?’” Cas asked.

If Dean hadn’t been struggling to process, he would have rolled his eyes at Cas’ finger quotes.

“Yes,” Cas said matter-of-factly. “I believe that’s what they call me.”

“No,” Dean said insistently. “You— there’s no way you’re a serial killer!”

“What makes you think that?” Cas seemed genuinely curious.

“You're an English teacher!”

Cas fixed him with a look. “You’re a mechanic.”

Dean stared at him incredulously. “This is not happening.”

“I can assure you it is,” Cas said.

“Prove it,” Dean said.

Cas’ eyes glinted at the challenge. In a few strides, he was in Dean’s space, pressing their lips together.

Oh. Shit.

This was definitely happening.

When they broke apart, there was some blood smeared on Cas’ face. A smile was beginning to form, his mouth quirking upwards. “Was that enough proof?”

Dean nodded. He reached out and tried to wipe off some of the blood that had gotten on Cas’ face with his thumb, only succeeding in streaking it more.

They stood there for a few moments silently.

At last, Dean spoke.

“Cas,” he said, licking his lips, “you’re even more of a badass than I thought you were.”

“I know,” Cas said. “The same goes for you.”

“How long?”

Cas didn’t need him to specify. He considered it for a few seconds. “Years. Just a few before I met you.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Uh, I started not long before I came to Sioux Falls, but….”

They fell quiet again.

“I’m sensing awkwardness,” Cas said.

That was so incredibly Cas that Dean had to laugh, the tension broken. “Keen observation, Sherlock.” And then, as though he’d said it a hundred times, “Help me with the body?”

Cas’ smile widened. “I thought you’d never ask.”

One body-disposal and a drive home later, Dean was laying in bed, curled around Cas. He smiled into the back of Cas’ neck. Yeah. He had a great life.

He worked as a mechanic during the day, and he loved his job. On weekends, he played DnD with his best friend. His brother called him at least once a week from college.

Every day, he came home to his husband. Said husband made some fucking awesome pie.

And, of course, he was a serial killer.

tag list: @theirlovewasreal @holmesemrys @fanfic-corner @lovingherwasgay @destiel-is-canon-i-guess @top13zepptraxx @i-do-know-and-idc

let me know if you want to be added or removed!

[jcisthebestfightme]

BJYX Food Blog

Ahhhhhh I love food so much!!!! hahahaha So I decided to record down all the times food show how much they love each other. This is mostly just for me. Since this is a “food blog”, instead of “evidence” which you can find elsewhere in other people’s analysis posts, I will instead include yummy photos of food. Will continue to update this list. 

Disclaimer: All fanfiction. 

1) Pancake - I talked about this in detail here. In summary, dd is bragging about how “homey” he is that he can make pancake. The recipe uses butter, something only people that bake in China will have. Gg likes to bake cookies (even sugar-free one, haha gg is more detail-orientated and health conscious than me) and bread. Apparently gg also loves cheese and dd mentioned that his pancake has cheese.

2) Love on the Rocks or Love’s Water - This supper famous drink in China’s Starbucks is actually black currant juice + raspberry juice + black tea. You can make it easily at home (it’s not available in U.S. Starbucks). Because of BJYX, you can order it as “Love’s Water” directly at Starbucks in Chinese (Yes, Starbucks knows about them.) Why is it call Love’s Water? It’s red, the color of love while also sweet and sour. Also, it’s actually gg’s favorite drink at Starbucks. You can often seen him drinking it during the filming of the Untamed. What about dd? It’s been mention by gg that dd only drinks water. However, during Untamed filming, dd can also be seen drinking Love’s Water from Starbucks. Does love change a person’s preference in drinks?

3) Green tea - We’ve all seen the BTS where they share green tea from the same bottle, twice. However, what’s even more interesting is that dd kept the preference of drinking green tea even after filming. Fans have caught dd drinking green tea during ttxs taping and there are pictures of bottle of green tea in his van. He’s also mention liking green tea with dls on ttxs.

4) Hot pot

a. Soup - Gg used to say because he’s from Chongqing, he likes spicy hotpot. However, after 2018, he mentioned that he now like twin-sided pot (half spicy, half not). Is he sharing a pot with someone who doesn’t eat spicy food that much? In clips from early 2018, we see dd not being able to handle spicy food. However, in 2020, we see him ordering a completely spicy soup base (him being the only one out of the 4 people to do so). What changed for both of them?

b. Sauce - In Chongqing where gg is from, you eat hotpot with a spicy oil sauce. Gg used to say that was what he preferred. However, in an interview, he picked sesame sauce over the spicy oil sauce. He also mentions that he loves the sauce with sweet garlic. If you go back to old video of dd, he has always love sesame sauce with garlic. He also mentioned in ttysj earlier this year that he loves hot pot with sesame sauce with sweet garlic. However, in j5, we see him eating his hot pot with spicy oil sauce. What happened? Are they trying to become each other?

Edit - dd was asked recently why he changed from his sesame sauce to spicy oil sauce and he said “I learned it from a friend I met from filming.” And he said it’s because it makes the hot pot less spicy, and most important, the flavor suits him.

c. Dried yamakurage - Ngl, I’ve never heard of this vegetable before today. Many people from different parts of China was in the same boat. Google search told me that it’s a vegetable they like to add in hot pot in Chongqing. Dd mentioned in ttxs that he likes this vegetable. In j5, you can also find this vegetable on the table.

d. “Treasure in the palm” - What is that? Ya, I had no idea either until dd ordered it for his hotpot. (Many other Chinese audience on WB also has never heard of it.) Apparently it’s the ligament in the middle of a chicken’s claw. I did some Google research and it seems like it’s mostly eaten bbq style or stir fry. So I searched “掌中宝” + hotpot and got the result that it’s eaten in hotpot in....drumroll....Chongqing! (Yes, where gg is from.) So ya......

e. Cow stomach - Another thing dd ordered. This time, this is something dd has always like to eat and has said it since 2017. However, it’s gg that mentioned in an interview that he also like to eat this for his hot pot now. Previously, when asked what his favorite hot pot meat is, he said “beef.” Maybe he just suddenly change his mood?

I just found these amazing videos from this Youtube Channel about Szechuan (around the area gg is from) hotpot so check them out for more information.

5) Zongzi - Where gg is from (southern China), we’re use to eating savory Zongzi with meat, peanuts, eggs, etc inside. But where dd is from (northern China), they think zongzi should be sweet with red bean, etc.. During an interview when ask to pick between sweet vs savory zongzi, gg immediately picked savory. However, dd wavered and then picked savory at the end. 

6) Eggplant - Gg said that he eats anything except eggplant because he once threw up when he was younger eating eggplant and it left a trauma on him. Unfortunately for him, the prepared food during CQL had a lot of eggplant because it was in season where they were filming. The actor of LXC during a livestream also mentioned that gg doesn’t like to eat eggplant. Then he followed up by saying that dd loves to eat eggplant. But if you watch ttxs, none of the host ever mentions dd likes eggplant (they constantly mention that he loves cilantro, durian, snail rice noodles, etc.). Also in an episode when there was eggplant, dd didn’t actively try to eat some. So maybe during their filming time, someone doesn’t like to eat eggplant and gave theirs to another person, causing LXC’s confusion?

From my own opinion, I think gg is the type of person that values food a lot. You can see him craving certain food and be very picky about the type of food he likes to eat. He also knows how to cook well so his standard for good food is high. I think dd is the type of person that likes food but isn’t super picky of the type of food he eats, as long as it’s good, he’s happy. So he’s more likely to just enjoy the same food that gg likes because that will make both of them happy. I don’t think either of them purposefully change their food preference for each other but more that your food habit changes naturally when you spend a lot time with another person. 

7. Cough Drop

When watching Street Dancing, there was a clip of all the team leaders sitting down watching and dd pulled out a “candy.” The leader next to him asked him if he was eating candy and he pulled out a pack and shared it with others. He even reached over to make sure he shared his candy with everyone. It was such a cute moment and looked like elementary school children sharing snacks. It’s cute and that’s it, right?

Nope, bxg have to live up to the title of “Detective Conan/Sherlock Holmes”. People start digging through old pictures and found one where they saw the same brand “candy”, which was actually cough drops in gg’s back from several years back. The version dd was eating was a “peach flavor version” meant for children. What was interesting is that he ate the peach version himself but shared a different version with others. This was confirm by the company that made the cough drops. (CPN) It’s possible that he’s savoring the peach ones for himself because gg gave them to him specially.

So gg and dd have the same cough drop. That’s it, right? Nope, more Detective Conan popped out and found several videos of fan-meeting in Thailand when gg was eating a cough drop and dd was coughing. Then gg asked some assistant for the cough drop, yes the same exact brand, and then handed them to dd. You can also see dd have something in this mouth before he went on stage. This tells us that gg has definitely given dd this cough drop before.

But are we sure that the supply of cough drop dd has is from gg? Probably, because of what happen in XGDS. During XGDS, dd was eating a cough drop. Normally, other friends, like the people in street dancing will see that and say, “oh you’re eating a candy?” But when gg saw, he asked “does your throat hurt?” This means that gg knew that dd was eating a cough drop immediately. How would he know that? Unless he’s the one who gave it to him. (This story has more logic and evidence than papers I’ve read in Cell/Nature/Science.)

Fun fact - some fan bought it and said it taste terrible LOL It taste too sweet on the outside and taste like medicine on the inside (which it is technically herbal medicine.) So don’t recommend trying it.

[starrynite7114]

Misconstrued: Part 4

A/N: Hello my lovelies! This one was hard to write, I just want to give a shout out to my twin, @justahopelessssromantic​, she really coached me through this last update. I just want to apologize in advance, please don’t hate me. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy this update!

Also, thank you again for the response I’ve been getting for this story.  I enjoy reading all of your comments!

Anon:  I don't know if this is too specific but could you do something about Angel ruining a date and later admits it because he loves them and then they have some angry smut and late night fluff

Word Count: 5106

Warnings: Angst, Smut. 

Previous parts

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3

Masterlist

Tag List: @iambabyharry​ : @justahopelessssromantic​ : @carlaangel86​ : @marvelmaree​ : @mrsamaroevans​ : @ifoundmyhappythought​: @woahitslucyylu​ : @cind-in-real-life​ : @briannab1234​ : @fairygardenss​ : @gemini0410​ : @everyhowlmarksthedead​ : @losolvidad0s​ : @whyisgmora​ : @comasi-world​ : @xserenax-13​ : @chibsytelford​ : @welovethesponge​ : @claytoncardenasbabymama​ : @jadert15​ : @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​ : @trulysuccubus : @pananegra : @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass

If you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know! If I forgot to add you, I’m so sorry!

Angel twirled you around using the hand that was holding yours. He pulled you against him, wrapping a shoulder around you as you giggled. He kissed your cheek, enjoying the time he had off to be with you. You two were walking towards the movie theater with Coco and Gilly trailing behind. This was going to be your date, but you invited Gilly and Coco to come along, knowing they needed a break from whatever the heck your tio was having them do. 

“I really wanted us to be alone.” Angel murmured into your ear before he placed another kiss on your head. 

Angel was very affectionate and you were trying to be as affectionate as him. This was brand new for you. The one boyfriend you had was during your sophomore year of college and it didn’t really feel much of a relationship. You were almost certain that he befriended you since you were breezing through chemistry. After all, your relationship lasted about as long as your chemistry series for university did, but you were never bitter since you were still into Diego at that point.

“Be nice, they perked up when you said we were going to the movies.” You playfully elbowed Angel and he chuckled. 

“You’re such a saint baby.” He shook his head. 

You got the tickets for Captain Marvel, a movie you’ve been wanting to watch. The boys were Marvel fanatics so it didn’t take much to coerce them to see the movie. Angel grabbed snacks for you and him. Gilly and Coco jeered him, asking him what about them, which made the two of you laugh.

“I already let you go on my date, you two should be buying our food.” Angel flipped them off. 

“You’re right,” Gilly nodded, he looked over at you. “Y/N, what would you like since you’re the one who invited us.”

You laughed as Angel rolled his eyes. “I’m good Gilly, Angel got all my favorites.”

“No he didn’t, he didn’t get your KitKat bar.” Coco pointed out before turning to the cashier to order it for you. 

“You didn’t want chocolate baby.” Angel pouted, not liking the fact that he forgot something you liked. 

“I didn’t, just let them have it.”

The four of you made your way to your seats, with Angel and Gilly on either side of you. You loved going to the movies. You always enjoyed it and the seats were so comfortable as of late. Angel placed your food on the table that was attached to your seat. You got fish and chips while Angel got popcorn. Unlike you, Gilly, Coco and Angel already had dinner. You met them at the scrapyard after your shift and they just finished eating. 

“So, what are we doing after this?” Angel questioned you as he took a fry.

“I don’t work tomorrow, so I don’t really care what we do.” You shrugged. “Anything in particular you want to do?” 

“Want to watch the sunrise?” Angel knew how much you love nature. You always spoke to him about the Big Sur and Yosemite, how you had all these hiking trails you wanted to take him up north. 

“Are we taking Gilly and Coco?” 

“Fuck no.” 

You got off Angel’s bike, shoving your hands in the pockets of your hoodie. Angel wrapped his arm around you as you two made your way down to the sand. It was 5:20 and you two had twenty minutes to spare before the sun would rise. The skies were becoming lighter and you just enjoyed the breeze as it blew through you and Angel. 

You two sat down on the little edge that separated the sidewalk and the sand. Angel intertwined your hands, resting it on your lap. It was quiet, with a few people doing their morning workout, but otherwise, the beach was empty. 

After the movie, you two said your goodbyes to Gilly and Coco. You two went home for a few hours to take a mini nap before getting up to make your way to Oceanside, California, which was half and an hour drive. You love riding with Angel, feeling the wind against your face, how freeing it felt. 

“Has Diego reached out to you?” Angel noticed that you never mentioned Diego after two nights ago when he had confessed his feelings for you. He’s encountered Diego a few times and he could feel the glare that he threw his way every time they would run into each other. Angel was an asshole, but the satisfaction of that reaction from Diego, it was priceless. 

He fucking won. 

Diego could go fuck himself. 

“Yes, but I just ignore his messages.” You shrugged. “Has he approached you?”

“Fuck no, he knows better.” Angel knew that Diego would stay away. He was reaching his tipping point and if Diego even approached you one more time, he would sing to Bishop. The smugness that Diego had would be wiped out. Angel doesn’t think that Bishop would strip him of his patches, but he knew he would receive some repercussions for his actions. 

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course querida, you can always be honest with me.”

“I’m not going to lie to you and say it didn’t stir something in me when Diego confessed to me.” Angel gazed at the ocean then, not wanting you to see the hurt in his eyes. “But, it wasn’t the same. I didn’t feel the way I thought I would feel.”

“And why is that?”

“Because of you, all I could think of was you. I wanted you to be there so you could tell him to go away. Diego was my best friend, but after everything that happened, everything with us, I no longer see him in that way. I want to be with you, no one else, just you.” You confessed, which surprised you. Feelings were always difficult for you, it was the reason you were never actually able to tell Diego that you liked him. But with Angel, he always made you feel at ease. You could share everything with him. Though, it took you some time to actually tell him how you felt and it took him meddling, you were glad he did.

It showed you what was missing between you and Diego all those years ago.

You were naive to think that Diego had feelings for you, yet, he never confessed to you. But Angel, he did it, he told you that he loves you and when he did, it was something else.

“When you told me that you love me, it was different. I can’t explain it, but it was the best thing I’ve ever heard. I always thought my crush on you was one sided, then you kept charming your way in my life and I fell in love with you.” 

Angel grinned, squeezing your hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing the back of your hand. “And I meant it, I truly love you. Nothing is going to come between us, especially not Diego.” He couldn’t breathe without you. He tried to put distance between you two at the beginning, but he knew it was futile. It really fucking was, it was a sad attempt on trying to keep his feelings at bay. He was moody, which Coco and Gilly gladly always pointed out to him. 

You and Angel watched as the sun rose, illuminating the skies and the water. Just being in the mere presence of one another was enough for you both. You two love one another and it may have been too soon to say it, but neither of you cared. This was building ever since Angel introduced himself to you. And after a year or so, you two were finally together. 

And Angel had no plans of letting you go. 

This was it for him. 

================

Diego took his phone out as he sat on the picnic table, enjoying his break from the scrapyard. He was getting used to life in Santo Padre. Maybe the city truly did grow on you or maybe it was the fact you were around. Regardless, Diego was contemplating on transferring down, to be closer to you. Regardless of what happened a few nights ago, he knew he could make improvement with you, all he had to do was take Angel out of the picture for just a few days. 

Nothing sadistic or malicious, but he was certain he could convince Bishop to send Angel up north for a few days. 

He smirked at that thought, taking a drag out of his cigarette and exhaling it out of his nose and mouth. It became an obsession for him at this point. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint when it became an obsession, but after he broke up with Regina, contrary to popular beliefs, he left her not the other way around, he was set on getting you back.

He missed the way you felt in his arms whenever you would accidentally fall asleep while watching one of your lame movies you love seeing. He missed the way he would come over to your apartment, a home cooked meal waiting for him. He missed hearing your snort whenever you would laugh so hard at his corny jokes. He missed being able to run to you whenever club shit got too heavy for him.

He just fucking missed you.

And the fact that Angel was getting in the way, it didn’t sit well with him.

Diego could admit that he was an asshole, but he would do anything to get you back.

Even if it meant bringing Coco and Gilly down with Angel. 

He heard steps against the gravel and looked up to find Coco making his way over to him. The smirk on his face became smug, knowing exactly why Coco Cruz was making his way over to him.

“Can we talk pretty boy?” Coco was fuming. The last thing he needed to worry about was Diego, but after last night, Diego was a thorn on his, Gilly and especially Angel’s side. With Angel being MIA for some reason, here he was dealing with Diego. He seemed harmless at first, but Coco should never count out a man who wanted a woman. From what he heard from Medina and other members, Diego was cunning, manipulative, a good fighter, and even better with a gun. Diego was a natural athlete, fighting, running, things came easy for him. But Coco wasn’t impressed easily, especially since he’s been through hell and back. 

“About?” Diego sat up straight, the smugness was exuding from him.

“Don’t be a pendejo, you know what I want to talk about.” Coco glared at him, wanting to smack the smug look on his face.

“About how you’re helping the rebels?” Diego took another puff of his cigarette before he threw it to the ground. “Or about how you three are betraying the club?” Diego shrugged. “Whatever do you mean Coco?”

“Listen, this is bigger than any petty shit you have between you and Angel. This is for the longevity of the club.” Coco knew he didn’t have to explain shit to Diego, but with how he followed them last night, finding out they worked with the rebels while they were on the other side, it looked terrible. Especially with Adelita taking Galindo’s kid, the MC looking for Los Olvidados, it wasn’t didn’t look good.

“But this isn’t about me and Angel. It’s about the fact you three along with the prospect is betraying the club.” Diego stood up, looking around to make sure they didn’t have an audience. “I’m easy to talk to, I’ll keep my mouth shut.” And he could keep secrets, for the right price.

“And in return?”

“Angel breaks up with Y/N, and she comes back to Stockton with me.”

Coco chuckled. “This is your game plan, why am I not surprised?” Coco should have known this was what would appease Diego. He would hate to ask Angel to give you up, but they didn’t have a choice. They’re intentions were noble, but the club may not feel that way, at least not right now. “Angel would never let her go.”

“Then I guess Prez finds out.” Diego shrugged. 

“Don’t act innocent. We all know what you did to get where you’re at.” Coco spat out venomously. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t betray the club, did I?” 

“But you betrayed her.”

Coco was trying to restrain himself. He heard the motorcycles then, knowing that they would have company soon. Diego was so lucky that they weren’t alone cause if they were, then it would be a done deal. 

He looked back and it was EZ. He quickly made his way off his bike and called Coco over. Diego’s eyes followed them, but he stayed away. 

He made his demand.

It was only a matter of time.

================

Angel was relieved that Adelita saved him along with EZ and Coco. Their partnership was going strong, but today was a too fucking close call. When he was in captivity, all he could think about was you, and how he may not be able to see you anymore. He couldn’t bear that thought, it was so painful for him. 

When they arrived at the clubhouse, he felt at ease knowing you would be there, that he would be wrapping his arms around you soon. After cracking that joke on Coco, he made his way towards the clubhouse, but Coco pulled him aside.

“I spoke to Diego.” They took a seat at the picnic table since it was empty. They didn’t need an audience. 

Angel’s blood boiled hearing Diego’s name. That motherfucker was definitely trying him. It took Gilly, EZ and Coco to hold him back from hurting Diego. He couldn’t believe this motherfucker followed them at Santo Madre, watching Galindo’s work with the ice cream man and his son. Their eyes connected through the crowd, the smug look on his face said it fucking all.

He got them and he wouldn’t hesitate to throw him under the bus.

“And?” Angel lit a cigarette, offering one to Coco which he took.

“He wants you to give up on her.” 

Angel scoffed. Over his dead fucking body he was giving you up. 

“I get it hermano, but you have to be smart about this.” Angel didn’t have to say anything, his face answered all of Coco’s questions. But this was why Coco was there, to be the reasonable one between them. “The progress we made, it would burn to the ground if we don’t do what he requests. She won’t fall for his bullshit, talk to her. She’s it, right?”

“What?” Angel stared at Coco, not surprised to hear what he was saying. He sympathized, he understood what Coco was saying, but your relationship was so fresh. He couldn’t possibly walk away now, you wouldn’t understand. But he remembered that the club was something you’ve known since you were young, maybe you would understand. 

Then the thought dawned on him, Coco’s last words sinking in. 

You were it for him, he didn’t see a future with anyone else but you. It was the reason he waited as long as he did, he wasn’t ready to make you his a few months ago with EZ coming out. He needed to reestablish his brother. But now, things were different. Angel was more than ready to be with you, but then Diego came and was just hell bent to ruin your relationship, a relationship that has yet to get off the ground. 

Now, he had to give you up. 

“She’s the one, I know, but you have to make this small sacrifice right now, if you don’t let her go, he tells Bishop. You’re no good to her six feet under.” Coco always had such a way of putting things in perspective for him. 

“Fuck,” Angel breathed out. “I can’t, if I give up on her now, Diego will sink his claws back into her.”

“That’s why I’m telling you to be honest with her. It’s risky, but I know she’ll be loyal to you, she’ll understand why we’re doing what we’re doing.” Coco threw his cigarette butt, stepping on it to put it out. “She’ll wait for you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, you’re it for her too. If you just saw the way she looked at you, you’d understand.” Coco left Angel to decide. He said his piece and if Angel decided to stay with you, they would cross the bridge then. 

Angel sat there for a moment, thinking about Coco’s words. He knew he was right, it was what pained him. This was unfortunately bigger than him, he had to put personal feelings aside and let you go so that he could assure that the MC would get rid of the cartel. He sighed, throwing his cigarette on the ground. He would talk to you, he wasn’t going to let you slip from his fingers. Coco was right, you would understand, two would make it work. 

Making his way inside the clubhouse, the sight that greeted him was highly ideal. You and Diego were sitting side by side, looking at his phone for some unknown reason. You laughed, snorting as you did, shaking your head at Diego. Angel cussed under his breath as he made his way over to you.

"Enjoying yourself?" Angel joined your conversation, immediately catching your attention. 

"Angel, hey," you got up to greet him with his arm immediately wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you in for a kiss. 

"Thanks for keeping my girl company, Diegito." The way he said Diego's nickname, it was almost a mocking tone and Diego's jaw clenched, giving him a tight smile. 

Angel led you away and you could just feel how tense he was. He brought you outside and let you go then, taking your hand and leading you to the picnic tables that were currently empty.

"You two look cozy." Angel commented, making you frown.

"Angel, come on, you know our history."

"That's the problem, I do. I trust you baby, but you're not stupid, you know why he's here."

"Yeah, but I'm not going to fall for it again." You reassured him, cupping his face, and pressing your lips against his. “I love you, remember? He’s nothing to me anymore.”

“I know mi amor, it just doesn’t sit well with me knowing he’s actively trying to win you over.” Angel felt his heart clench knowing what he had to do. He didn’t have to do it right away. One last day with her was all he wanted before he made this sacrifice. This was bigger than him, Coco was right.

It just sucked that you had to suffer because of it.

“Well he isn’t succeeding. I’m just being nice, but if you want me to stop talking to him, that’s fine with me as well.” You didn’t want Diego’s presence to ruin your relationship with Angel. After what occurred a few days ago, with Diego confessing to you, you wanted to steer clear from him with everything considered. It was mostly out of respect for your relationship with Angel. Talking to someone who you were in love with wouldn’t sit well with Angel and you know it didn’t. 

“I’m not trying to control you, I just don’t want him to sweet talk you.” Angel had his hands resting on your hips while yours rested on his shoulder. 

“Angel, if his confession didn’t move me, what could possibly sway me his way?” 

It was true, Angel knew that and this was breaking his heart. To actually hand you over to some asshole he despised just to assure him, Coco, and Gilly’s survival, it pained him, but like Coco said, it was a small sacrifice. 

But he was hoping once he explained everything to you, you would understand. 

Angel’s phone vibrated and it was an unregistered number on his phone. 

It was a picture of him with Adelita, walking side by side. Another message was a video with himself, Adelita, and Coco. 

‘It would be a shame if this was sent to Prez and El Padrino.’

The fury on Angel’s face was unmistakable. Your eyebrows furrowed looking at his features. Softly, you squeezed his should, his attention drifting away from his cellphone and back to you.

“Are you okay?” You questioned.

“Yeah amor, I’m good.” He gave you a smile, but you could tell it wasn’t genuine. It was tight and it didn’t reach his eyes. 

But you let it go, nodding your head. 

“You ready to get out of here?” 

“Damn baby, I gave you the dick once and you’re insatiable.” 

You rolled your eyes, smacking him playfully on his chest. “Fuck you.”

“That’s the plan.”

You sighed as Angel kept your legs spread out for him, spelling the alphabet on your pussy. Every time you came, he restarted back to A and this was the third time he was restarting.

“Angel, baby, please, I can’t take anymore.” You were trying to push his head away, but it was to no avail. You literally had no strength. 

Angel kisses your inner thigh, stopping at the letter ‘S’. He smirked, proud of how wet he made you, how you were putting in his hand. 

“Come on baby, gotta learn self control.” He teased you.

Angel loved that you were inexperienced. It was to his advantage since he could teach you all these things, give you all your firsts. Diego was still in his mind, the weight of the decision on his shoulders, but he wanted to spend one more night with you before things changed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take the heartbreak in your eyes, it would crush him. 

But he would make it up to you, he really would.

“I have self control, but this is ridiculous.” You tried to close your legs, but Angel moved to kneel in between them. 

“You ready?” Angel knew you were ready, but he knew how sensitive you must feel right now.

You shook your head, placing your hand on his stomach. He moved his cock up and down your slit, coating it with your wetness. You moaned, shaking your head. 

“It’s too much right now.” You tried to move away but he held your hips down.

“I promise it won’t be so bad, you’ll feel so good baby.” Angel coaxed, placing kisses all over your neck, trying to bring the fire up again. “You’re so fucking wet too baby, I’m just going to slide right in.” Angel was almost sure that wasn’t true, but he did prep you as best as he could.

You know Angel would take care of you, that it was going to feel good once he was buried inside you. “Okay.”

Angel lines his cock up to your opening, coating the tip before pushing himself in. He groaned, looking down at you, watching the pure pleasure on your face as you arched your back, holding on to his forearms as his hands held your legs apart. Angel watched where you two were joined, cursing under his breath. 

Watching all these new sensations coarse through your body, the whimpering and moans that you let out was music to his ears. He had this possessiveness over you. He was your first and he intended to keep you by his side and be your last.

But then Diego poked at him. 

That motherfucker.

He should have known.

Known that he would pull some shit like this. 

“Fuck Angel,” you voice broke him out of his thoughts. His vision cleared and you were watching where you two were joined, your pupils were dilated and Angel was sure he was as well. 

“Feel good, Querida?” He slowed his pace when he noticed you were tightening up around him. You fell back, arched back and his name on your lips. Angel loved seeing you so vulnerable, see how much you were enjoying this, how intimate this was. “I fucking love you, don’t ever fucking forget that.”

You nodded unable to speak as Angel fastened his pace again.

“Can’t get enough huh?” Angel cockily asked you.

You shook your head, pulling Angel down so your lips could meet. He moved you two so you were sitting on his lap as he sat down, guiding you to move up and down his cock. You felt that familiar feeling as this position was hitting you at the right spot. Angel thrusted up, sucking on your neck, leaving hickeys all over. You loved the feel of his beard against your skin, how it slightly tickled, but you loved it. Giving him an open mouthed kiss, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Angel pulled away, wanting to watch you as you came. You bit your lip, but Angel smoothed it out, wanting to hear you. 

“Angel, I need-,” you felt yourself tightening up, but it wasn’t enough. It was like you couldn’t reach that orgasm, but it was so close. 

“I got you baby.” He placed you on your back. Angel thrusted into you, his thumb on your clit, rubbing it. 

“Shit, that feels so good.” You moaned out as you clamped down on Angel. The familiar feeling at the pit of your stomach came for the fifth time that night and you let out an ‘Oh god’, as Angel continued to fuck you through your orgasm. 

“Look at that, that’s my fucking girl.” Angel pulled out, watching as his cum dripped down. He licked his lips, gathering whatever came out and pushed it inside once again. He was a bastard for thinking it, but he hoped he got you pregnant so even after he fucked up, you couldn’t leave him. 

Angel helped you clean up, slipping in under the covers with you in his arms. He knew you were asleep, especially with tonight’s activity. 

“Please forgive me, amor. Once I handle Diego, you’ll be back in my arms for good.” He knew you couldn’t hear him. 

Tomorrow was going to be a bitch. 

You stretched, loving the soreness you felt between your legs. A smile crossed your face as you opened your eyes. You reached over your nightstand and got your glasses. Angel was no longer beside you, which was not surprising since you knew he had a shift at the scrapyard. Taking your phone out, you saw you had a message from him and a few other people, but he was the first one you opened. 

But you wished you didn’t. 

You really wished you didn’t.

‘Y/N, we’re done. I got what I wanted from you. Sorry I strung you along, but now that I got what I wanted, we’re done. Thank you for giving yourself to me, I'll never forget it.’

You couldn’t believe it. You reread the message over and over again in disbelief. This wasn’t Angel. He wouldn’t use you, he knew what you went through. After everything you two went through this past year and half, there was no way he was faking everything.

But that voice at the back of your head, mocked you, chuckling at your rebuttal for every negative thought it threw at you. Insecurities were a bitch and you felt like the world was closing in on you again. This was worse than what happened with Regina and Diego, which bothered you. But Angel was different. You were in love with Angel, a man that thought you were worth the risk no matter who your relatives were. He saw you for more than your relations within the organization and now, you felt like a fool.

A sob escaped your lips as his words ran through your mind, now coupled with that voice at the back of your head. 

‘You’ll never be good enough.’

‘Another man who you thought was worth the risk, but at the end, you looked like a fool again.’

‘You’re not worth loving. You’ll always be just that friend.’

You felt your heart break, laughing at how much of a fool you were. 

Fuck Angel Reyes. 

================

Angel felt shitty. He was looking at his phone every fifteen minutes hoping to see some reply from you, but there was nothing. He wasn’t surprised, but there was some part of him that wished you replied. 

“You okay?” Coco questioned as they took a smoke break.

“No, I broke up with her.”

“Shit, well, here she comes now.” Coco warned.

As soon as Angel turned around the sting on his cheek was immediate. His head recoiled, his eyes immediately on you. He didn’t want to see your face, he didn’t want to see the hurt in your eyes. He loves you, but this was something he had to do. Diego was at the corner of his eye, wiping off his sweat, a smirk on his face. The victory etched on his face was too much, but he had to do this.

“Fuck you Angel,” you venomously spat out. “I gave myself to you and you broke up with me through text. You can go fuck your self. You’re no better than the person you apparently tried to protect me from. I just wished you didn’t fuck with me as hard as you did.”

Before Angel could even utter a word, you walked away, moving away from Bishop when he tried to approach you. His eyes locked on Angel and it made him swallow hard.

“Prez,” Angel began, but Bishop cut him off.

"You strike me as a smart man, so I know you didn't fuck with her feelings. I don't care what you do, but you're going to fix this or I'm going to hang your balls outside the fucking gate." Bishop smacked Angel upside the head and walked away with Hank and Taza in tow.

Diego approached Angel, taking his phone out. Stopping beside him so Angel could see his phone screen, he deleted all the contents he has with Adelita in it.

“I’m a man of my word.” Diego clapped a hand on Angel’s shoulder which he immediately shrugged off. “This is the best for her. You know it, that’s why you let her go.”

Diego walked away, thinking of what he could do for you later so that he could keep you company. Angel broke your heart, so he was going to mend it for you. And in good time, you would be back in his arms. 

Coco approached Angel, placing a hand on his shoulder knowing that a storm was brewing. 

“Did he delete everything?” Coco asked

“Yep.”

“We’re getting even right?”

Angel turned to him and smirked. “He won’t even fucking see what’s coming for him.”

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded. Chapter Four

Happy Sunday all, back to the usually scheduling this week. I hope you enjoy the next week of lockdown with Jamie and Claire <3 Mod MBD.

Anonymous said to imagineclaireandjamie: 

It does not matter what you bear, but how you bear it. [Seneca]

CHAPTER FOUR: WEEK TWO - Home and Away.

As Monday rolled around again, the weekend having passed by in a blur, Claire sat at the breakfast table with a fresh cup of coffee in her hands. Having ventured down during the day on both Saturday and Sunday, she had hoped to bump into Jamie and pass on her thanks to his generosity but he had been out before sunrise each day and she had been asleep before he’d returned home.

Resolute, however, she chose to spend her day downstairs and hopefully get something on for dinner before he came back so she could at least start the week off right.

Fate, however, wasn’t on her side. By 10pm, with the lasagne tucked away, wrapped in foil, in the fridge, she covered her mouth with a yawn and pulled herself up the stairs to bed.

The crash and smashing of a glass bought her out of her sleep as the clock beside her bed clicked over to 3am. Pulling herself from beneath the sheets, she crept downstairs, eager not to scare him as she approached the kitchen.

“Couldn’t sleep?” She asked, knowing full well he had only just returned home.

He was stood by the sink, cold lasagna on the countertop and his mucky boots still on his feet. With the fork held to his mouth, he smiled as he took another bite of the pasta, chewed and then shook his head. “I havena ever been the best sleeper but it’s lambing season, aye? One of them got into bother and I couldna leave her until I knew she was safe.”

“And she made it?”

“Aye. I was luckier tonight than I was at the weekend.”

“Oh, dear...that doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s the job, I’m afraid. If I didna lose at least a handful a year I’d be shocked.”

It was the first real (and longest) conversation they’d had since she’d arrived and she was suddenly grateful for the company. He was calm, grounded and relaxed in the way a lot of city dwellers weren’t. She could tell in the slump of his shoulders that it didn’t matter how long and awkward his day was, how messy or how little sleep he had gotten the night before, he was still weightless almost, free of the constraint modern living brought to most.

“I wanted to say thank you,” she broke in, remembering the reason she’d half-blindly stumbled down in the middle of the night, “you’ve been so amazing - to get me materials for a garden, that’s...above and beyond the call of duty.”

“Ach,” shaking his head, he finished the last of his supper, balled the tin foil up and placed it in the bin, “dinna fash yersel’ about that. It’s no’ a problem.”

He was embarrassed, she could tell. Abashed, his accent had become incredibly thick and almost impossible to understand. But it was quiet enough here that there was no background noise to blot out his sentence and luckily she didn’t have to ask him to repeat himself.

“Well, nonetheless,” ignoring the slight reddening of his cheeks she continued, “I am very grateful to you. For everything.”

With nothing more to say between them, she waved, smiled and backed off, feeling strangely pleased with herself for breaking the silence between them. Hopefully, she thought as she climbed the stairs back to her room, there would be some evenings in the future when they could eat together and she could show her appreciation by making him something warm and fresh.

-- --

By mid-week, she had yet to see Jamie again. His work was intense, and yet, despite that, he had still managed to begin construction of her tiny garden.

In her haste she had forgotten that she wasn’t allowed outside the house and, as she’d watched the greenhouse foundations being laid, she had become almost inconsolable about the fact that she probably wouldn’t get the chance to tend to any of the produce grown in it.

She knew, however, that safety was more important than new hobbies and she chose, instead, to make detailed lists of the daily needs of each of the seeds and plants Jamie had procured for her.

She started with the tomatoes and grapes, which needed to be contained within the glass walls in order to collect enough light and heat to survive. She noted water levels, soil PH and balance and daily rituals which would need to be abided by in order for the best crop to be formed. It filled most of her days and when the sun went down, she’d swap her notepad for the computer as she researched all the differences she might see in her fruit and veg determined all by the way they were treated as they grew.

Though she had never been an artist, she started to search for youtube videos on how botanical art could be created. Having no coloured pencil crayons or watercolours, she stuck to pencil sketches and began to leave more post-it’s, this time with future predictions on what the garden might produce for the household.

Once again Jamie enjoyed coming home. There had only been a few days lapse in her communications but when he didn’t see her for days, it was the one thing he could rely on to buoy his spirits.

They were different, in so many ways, but on a subconscious level, he pondered to himself at night as he held the drawing of some rare cabbage in his hands, Jamie felt as if they had very many similar quirks. He’d been pleased that his idea to leave her be for as long as she needed had been a success and was grateful she felt at home enough to reform her life around his. Her asking for the garden made him realise how easy it might be for someone else to fit into his own life without causing him much grief.

It was only a small thing, but to him it had made a huge difference. Having lived alone for so long, he had almost forgotten how malleable people could be. Though, he thought as he rifled around in the fridge for more pre-made meals, he had probably just gotten lucky with Claire.

The thought also occurred to him that she had been inadvertently raised more suited to this life than her old one, but he didn’t know enough about her to advance on the notion.

It wasn’t until late on Thursday when they came face to face together. After another heavy day and late night, Jamie finally toe-ed off his work boots at nearly midnight and made his way, quietly, through to the kitchen.

He had not expected to nearly bump straight into Claire has she dished up what looked like a very tasty stir fry.

“I thought you might be sick of reheating pasta dishes, so I thought I’d try and wait for you this time.”

“Ye didna have to, it’s very late.” He scratched the back of his neck bashfully, even she couldn;t find the truth in his words and she smiled as she placed a fresh bottle of soy sauce in the centre of the table. “But this does smell delicious.”

“It’s taken me a few attempts to hone it, but I’ve been practicing most evenings this week to try and get it perfect, flavour as well as how long I need to cook the veg for.”

“What’s the meat?” He asked, watching as his stomach rumbled audibly.”

“I used the duck, I hope you don’t mind. I used chicken earlier in the week but I couldn’t seem to get it as tender as I wanted it and a few forums online suggested that duck might be a better substitute if I wanted meat with a bit more moisture.”

“Perfect. Use any meat you want from the freeze, for anything. Honestly, I forget most of the time what I’ve got in there.”

Placing several bowls filled with various meats, vegetables and sides, she went back to the sink to wash the remaining stickiness of her hands before beckoning him to start without her. “I had hoped you weren’t saving anything for a special occasion.”

“Ach, I think the virus has put pay to anything like that for a while,” he began, filling his plate with noodles, duck and beansprouts, “my sister - she lives in Canada now - had planned a summer visit, but we’re no’ sure of anything at the moment.”

“Is she the one in the photo,” Claire enquired, taking a mouthful of her own concoction and swallowing back the relief when it tasted nice - a mixture of sweet and savory that wasn’t as overpowering or as dry as it had been earlier on in the day when she’d made the first of the final tests. “The one with brown hair?”

“Aye, she is. Her partner, Ian, got a job out there a few years ago and they emigrated. We talk as often as we can on Skype and FaceTime but it’s become sporadic recently wi’ my erratic work hours. She’s a nurse, ya see, and works odd shift patterns too. But we try and keep in touch at least once a month.”

“Do you miss her?”

“I didna really think about it, we were close....until we werena. Then they moved away and I fell into a new routine.”

He had begun to speak without thinking, filling up the silence with answers to her questions as they ate in between conversation. He had, though, had the forethought to stop before giving too much away. The thought hurt his heart and he had to inhale between a bite of his dinner to gather himself back up. He knew, given time, that he would be alright with sharing his past (as he hoped she would be with hers) but tonight wasn’t the night for revelations.

Sensing his reluctance to continue, she moved on, understanding that she herself wasn’t in a place to open up about her own family life.

“I can imagine Skype is about the only way most are communicating at the moment.” Sighing, she started to collect the empty dishes and load the dishwasher. “I’m quite grateful, actually, that I don’t have anyone to keep in touch with. It’s all...quite scary.”

It was the first time Jamie had consciously thought about the pandemic, being cut off from the outside world had its benefits and he felt relieved that he could separate himself from the constant barrage of news that he supposed others would be exposed to. He realised that both he and Claire were unique now, part of a smaller section of society where being remote was almost a blessing rather than a curse.

“If you ever need to talk, lass,” standing, he helped to clean up the remaining mess from dinner, his hand almost brushing against hers as he wiped the countertop down, breaking only to hover for a second before returning to his job, “ye know where I am. Please dinna think you have nobody...if yer concerned, aye?”

“Thank you Jamie.” Pulling her fleece cardigan across her chest she walked slowly to the kitchen door, pausing for a second in the doorway just to make sure she’d left nothing out to go cold and mouldy overnight. “The same to you. I’m a good listener, I promise, if you ever need to talk, or if you need any help.”

She’d been thinking about his life on the farm for a few days now, watching the rolling hills out of her window, seeing the sheep and cattle on the horizon and -very occasionally- seeing the silhouette of him roaming his land. There was little she could do from indoors, she knew, but there had been chores around the house that she could potentially complete. Putting herself to task, she had learned new basic kitchen skills but only this morning she’d noticed the beginnings of a hole on the seam of his trousers as they dried on the rail in the courtyard and she thought it might be something she could tend to...should he be alright with it.

Leaving with the quiet settling calmly between them, she noted the relaxing of the muscles in his face as he smiled and nodded as she turned and carried herself to bed.

Resting against the faux-marble worktop, Jamie closed his eyes as he waited for the soft slam of her bedroom door before he followed her up. She just might, he thought to himself as he undressed himself, taking a towel from his radiator and making his way to the shower, be better equipped for this life than I am.

[tomspancakes]

This Way: Part 2

Pairing: Tom Holland x Actress! reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: none

Summary: Yours and Tom’s past come in bringing a bit of tension.

Part 1

A/N: AHH I’m so glad people liked part 1! I don’t have a set schedule for posting bc I still have school atm, but I’m gonna try to stay consistent, cause writing this is so fun :))) If you have any suggestions of improvement for my writing or if you’re enjoying this please lmk! If you want to be added to the tag list don’t hesitate to ask! Enjoy Part 2 <3

“Harry, oh my god that was so awkward. I hated that, it will replay in my head for the next week.” You groaned flopping on his bed. “I am a bad bitch I’m fine, I’m fine” you reminded yourself.

He laughed at you and sat next to you, “You are a bad bitch. And yes that was painfully awkward, I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks for pulling me away though. Not gonna lie, I felt like Allana was plotting something in her head when she saw me. Did you get any vibe that she didn’t seem happy?” You asked, nervous.

“Eh wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t happy, she bosses Tom around. She tried to use me as her photographer once, but I was busy and couldn’t, but she somehow made Tom clear my schedule so that I could take pictures of her. I do not trust her in all honesty, so her plotting something wouldn’t be new..” You gasped at the story. 

“Dang I will not get in her way then…” Harry laughed and asked, “What do you feel like eating tonight, love?” 

“Uhmmm, oh I haven’t had nandos since the last time I was here.” You said and he nodded.

-

After the Nandos was dropped off at the house you all gathered around the table. 

“I think I can make food like Nandos.” Harrison said and everyone started laughing, “Hey I seriously think I can. Just watch.” 

“I think you can too, Harrison, I’ll be your sous chef if you want.” He smiled at your encouragement and stuck his tongue out at everyone else and Allana rolled her eyes. Oof. “Tommy, do you have spinach? I have a photoshoot tomorrow because one of the models cancelled. I can’t eat the side dishes. I’ll make myself a salad or something.” Allana said.

Harry scoffed and joked, “We don’t have rabbit food here, love.” Tuwaine and Harrison laughed, but you felt bad they were ganging up on her.

“Hey don’t make fun of her. It’s harder for us girls to stay fit whereas you boys can eat like shit and still be fit.” You said to the boys and Allana looked at you a bit surprised and pleased, “Allana, I think I saw some lettuce in the fridge. I can go grab it for you and a bowl. Gotta start getting used to the things around here anyway.” You smiled at her. 

Her expression went back to being unimpressed, “Uhm no thanks. I’ll just go eat at home, I have to leave in a bit anyway.”  She said and pushed the utensils away. 

“Darling, you need to eat a little something, you haven’t eaten one thing since you’ve gotten here.” Tom said. Your heart clenched a bit when he called her darling. 

“Tommy, god, I said I’d eat later. Don’t you ever listen?” She said everyone stared in silence until Harrison broke it, “Someone’s a little hangry…” 

“Harrison shut up!” Tom said snapping his head toward Haz.

Allana was turning red, “That’s it! I’m tired of your friends treating me like this. I’m leaving, Tommy, will you come with me?” Tom got up and glared at Harrison as he helped Allana out. 

“As if she doesn’t treat us badly.” Tuwaine said, rolling his eyes, Harry and Harrison nodding in response.

“Ok, but I still felt bad for her. That was a little uncalled for guys.” You said continuing to eat. 

“Y/n, she literally shot you down when you were trying to be helpful.” Harrison stated.

“Ok true, but I didn’t mind, she seemed to mind when you all ganged up on her.” The boys nodded.

“Not even 3 hours here and you’re already being our mother.” Harry said laughing.

“Oh shut up, you boys love me. I’m just using the bad bitch energy Harry gave me earlier.” You all laughed.

- 

After dinner you and the boys watched funny videos on Harry’s laptop and then headed your separate ways to go to sleep. You did your night routine and pulled on pj shorts and tank top since the boys put the heater on. 

You stirred in bed trying to sleep, but the jet lag got the best of you and you decided to put your clothes in the drawers and closet. Before starting to clean you decided to grab a snack and water.

While waiting for the popcorn to finish popping in the microwave you heard the front door unlock and a tired looking Tom walked in. 

“Tom? Oh my god why’re you getting home now it’s 2 am, you should’ve stayed with Allana. It’s so late!” 

“Oh, y/n? And we were talking then she kicked me out, something about being alone in bed is better for her aura the night before a photoshoot. Why’re you up?” Tom stammered and you scoffed at the story.

“Jet lag. I decided to organize my room, but also wanted a snack.” He nodded sitting in front of you at the counter, “Why don’t you go to sleep now you look like shit.” You joked. He put his hand over his heart pretending to be hurt.

“Tsss ouch, y/n, but I kinda wanted to talk to you. You know, catch up.” He said looking at you with his head resting on his hand now. Your heart sped up and sighed trying to stay calm.

“Alright, what do you wanna know?” You pulled the popcorn out of the microwave and set it between you and Tom. He started eating with you.

“How’re you and Mr. Gavin Leatherwood?” His question surprised you because one; that was a very straightforward question and two; you never confirmed anything/ went public with Gavin except for paps photos of you two holding hands and only Zendaya, your family, and Harry knew and swore not to tell Tom. 

“Uhm we mutually broke up two weeks ago...” You said looking up at Tom fiddling with your fingers. Tom’s eyes widened a bit and he tried to hide his joy, 

“Oh I’m sorry about that y/n.” he said genuinely, “I always thought there was something off about him.” You rolled your eyes getting annoyed thinking back to the past,

“Tom nothing was wrong with him. Like I said it was a mutual break up. He’s a sweet guy, you just never gave him a chance.” You rolled your eyes. He put his arms up in defense,

“Sorry, love, chill. I was trying to make you feel better by implying you deserved better.” You scoffed knowing he was only being half truthful. 

“Mhm sure, we both know that you just hated him.” Tom looked at the bowl of popcorn in defeat. 

“Thanks for sticking up for Allana by the way. I know she doesn’t seem like the nicest person at first, but when you get to know her she’s a sweetheart.”

“Oh ya I bet.” You joked.

“What? ‘Not gonna give her a chance’, love?” He mocked your American accent  and put air quotes in when he said that. You gave him a displeased look,

“Really, Tom? Really? Are seriously going to say that to me when you never stood up for Gavin and was actually the meanest to him?” 

“Oh my god,” he groaned, “it was a joke, love. I see you still get butt hurt easily.” He said putting his head in his hands. That was it,

“Ok good catching up with you Tom. Good night, asshole.” You took the popcorn and water to your room. 

Tom sat there with his eyes never leaving your beautiful figure. He groaned, beating himself up mentally for fucking things up and for checking you out.

-

You woke up around 7 a.m. groaning because jet lag got to you really bad. You changed into leggings and a crop top ready to go on a light jog knowing you wouldn’t go back to sleep. 

When you walked down you saw that Tom fell asleep on the couch. Your heart melted at the sight, but you tried to ignore how cute and cuddly he looked. You were about to walk out, but gave in and decided to put a blanket over Tom. 

“Oh mornin’ y/n, you’re up early,” You heard Harrison as he walked down in shorts and a tshit-shirt, “Going on a run too?” 

“Yup, light one though. I’ve got a lot of work to do today.” You said putting your hair up in a ponytail.

“Sick, I’ll run with you for a bit then.” You smiled and waited outside for him.

When you started running it was a little silent until he spoke, “So did you put that blanket over Tom?” 

“Maybe” you chuckled a bit, it was quiet again.

“Fuck it I’m just gonna say it,” you raised your eyebrow at him, “I shouldn’t be saying thihs, but he hasn’t gotten over you. I think Allana is here just to keep him on his toes. And plus he-” 

“Sorry, Harrison, can we not talk about this now? I’m still trying to forget about my past with him since I’m living in his house and all.” You said breathing hard.

“You know you don’t have to do that. As his best friend I know he’d hate for you to pretend like nothing ever happened between you two.” 

“Alright then, but if something bad happens because of past events I’m blaming you.” You said jokingly and Harrison laughed, “So what are all the things you need to catch me up on, I’ll let you talk now, I already can’t breathe.” Harrison laughed and started updating you on everything.

-

“Wait are you serious? That sounds terrible.” You said, Harrison was telling you how he face planted when he was trying to impress a girl. 

“Oh my god it was so embarrassing, she was so quiet when she helped me up and took her number out of my phone!” You started dying of laughter. 

“I’m so sorry that’s so sad. I can’t help, but to laugh though. She’s missing out though you’re a good looking guy.” He turned red with embarrassment. 

“Aw thanks y/n. Also I can’t believe you ended up running the whole time with me.” You shrugged like it was nothing, but your legs were actually aching. You two stepped into the house to the smell of bacon. 

“Oh hell yeah... wait is that Tom cooking?” Harrison asked, very surprised. 

“Yes, I can cook you div.” Tom said. 

You noticed he changed into sweats and he was shirtless. 

“Bro the last time you cooked was when-”

Tom turned surprised to see you up, you stared at him a bit too long. He cut Haz off before he can spill anymore beans,

“Morning, love, like what you see?” You scoffed,

“Actually no, just waiting for you to burn your nipples or something since your frying bacon without a shirt.” You went to pour a glass of water and as if on cue Tom yelped in pain.

“Fuck, I burned myself.” Tom hissed and you were gonna laugh at him until you saw his side. 

“Oh my god Tom! What the hell how’d you manage to burn your side?” You rushed to his side with an ice pack in a dish towel.

“Haha Tom I thought you said you could cook!” Harrison said dying of laughter.

“Harrison can you go get toothpaste?”

“What the fuck toothpaste?” Harrison and Tom asked at the same time.

“Yes, trust me.” With that Harrison scurried off to get toothpaste.

“Told you being shirtless was a bad idea.” You scolded him.

“You liked it though, don’t deny it,” you pressed the ice pack to his side and he winced, “ouch, love, I was joking.” You giggled a bit at his reaction, 

“How hard is it to find toothpaste? Harrison where are you?” You yelled. You looked back at Tom, seemed like something was on his mind.

“You uh look good, y/n.” He stammered, your face heating up more and your heartbeat quickening,

“Tom don’t.”

“What I can’t say my friend looks good? You told Harrison he’s good looking.” You raised your brow. Was he jealous? How the hell did he hear that from inside?

“You’re something else, Holland. Plus you have a girlfriend, don’t think she’d like to hear you say that. Especially when I’m your ex.” For some reason it pained both of you when you said that.

You sat across from him still waiting for Harrison. Tom nudged your foot with his and said, “Y/n, I wanted to say I was sorry about last night. I was tired and being a complete div.” 

You looked up at him, “It’s alright, sorry for overreacting and walking out.”

“No no you had every right to.” He sighed and was about to continue, but Haz ran in,

“I got the toothpaste!” Harrison said breathless.

“Why the hell did you take so long?” You asked as Harrison handed you the tube and winked at Tom, he rolled his eyes then face palmed.

“Oh my god, Harrison.” Tom groaned. You caught on real quick, Harrison was giving you two alone time. 

“You’re not slick at all Osterfield, you literally suck.” You said as he laughed.

You removed the ice pack from Tom’s side, “Alright, Tom, this is gonna sting a bit.” You warned and spread the paste on his burn he groaned in pain.

“Whoa, Harry cover your innocent eyes!” Tuwaine exclaimed covering his face when he and Harry walked in. 

“Really guys having sex in the kitchen?” Harry said. 

“Oh shut up you dickheads. I burnt myself and y/n is helping me out.” Tom said, still moaning.

“Tom you’re such a baby. Harry we’re no longer best friends anymore.” You stated. Harry laughed as you rolled your eyes. 

“Harrison here to save the day with better bacon than Tom’s bacon!” Harrison sang. Tom slapped Harrison’s leg. You laughed excited for how the next few months would turn out because of how eventful this morning already was.

-

After a very crazy morning and a facetime meeting with your manager you had to go to the table read for the movie you were shooting. Your phone began to ring, it was Harry. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, y/n, I’m really sorry Sam and I are still filming right now. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to pick you up in time to drop you off at your table read. Can you have one of the boys at home take you?” You began to stress a bit, but you knew that Harry was working on something really important to him.

“Yes of course. Let me know how filming goes later!”

“Thanks so much for understanding. I’ll tell you everything when I pick you up for dinner with my family! Bye, love.” You said goodbye and hung up, also completely forgetting about dinner with the Hollands tonight. 

You walked to Harrison’s room and asked, “Hey are you gonna be busy in like the next hour or so?” 

“Sorry, y/n, I’m about to meet up with some friends for lunch. What’d you need?” He asked frantically pacing looking for something. 

“Oh, Harry can’t take me to my tableread anymore, I need a ride.”

“Hmm, oh found it!” Harrison pulled out a watch from his drawer, “Well Tuwaine is leaving with me, so I’m afraid your only options are Tom or the tube.” 

“Really Harrison?” you groaned and he put his hands up in defense, “Ok have fun at lunch.”

You walked over to Tom’s room to see it empty, “He’s outside!” Tuwaine yelled from across Tom’s room. You thanked him and rushed outside to see Tom still shirtless. He was doing push-ups and the toothpaste looked glittery on his right side in the sunlight. His triceps and biceps enlarged every time he pushed his body up.

“You just can’t keep your eyes off me can you, y/n?” He said grunting while finishing his last few reps. You were at a loss for words because he did look really hot at the moment. You blushed and fumbled with your words,

“Oh uh sorry,” He turned and smirked at you, “I need another favor, Harry can’t take me to the tableread and Harrison and Tuwaine are going out for lunch.” He began walking closer to you making your heart skip a beat. What the hell was he doing? “I uh would take myself, but I’ve never driven here before and-” He was inches away from you he reached out and grabbed your shoulder chuckling,

“Alright alright, shut up I’ll take you.” You stared into each other's eyes not breaking eye contact and he reached over to slide the door open wider and he walked past you. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and rolled your eyes, you can’t let him get to you, he has a girlfriend! “We need to go in 45 minutes, thanks, Tom!” you yelled and he held a thumbs up.

-

“Z, I swear I cannot live in this house. Tom is acting like he’s some fuck boy and I swear he really is trying to pull something and he has a girlfriend! Did you know that?” You were rambling

“Uhmmm maybe…” She said awkwardly.

“Z! What the hell? Both you and Harry didn’t tell me.”

“What? Didn't think you’d care, cause you’re a ‘badddd bitchhh’.” You laughed at her mocking you.

“Fine, you and Harry said the exact same thing, weird… anyways what the hell do I do?” You said with your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you looked through your closet for something decent to wear at the Holland house. 

“Well, I think you should just focus on what you're doing right now and focus on your growth. Sis, you just broke up with someone, be free for now. It’s time to focus on you and your work.” Zendaya was right, you needed some time to self evaluate and grow, “But also maybe look super hot tonight at the dinner, you know, take his breath away.” She started laughing.

“Z, no! You just said not to worry about boys and he has a girlfriend…”

“But…” she said, waiting for you to carry on.

“But… ok I’ll dress cute, it’s always fun doing that.” You both laughed and she told you what to wear.

“Ok I’m gonna get ready for the tableread, I’ll text you. Love ya!” You said and she said it back and you guys hung up.

“Y/n can we actually leave in 5 minutes? I want to grab lunch, my treat!” Tom said from down the hall.

“Yeah sure.” You grabbed your purse and a bag with extra clothes. You walked out and ran into Tom with a thump he held your shoulders keeping you steady.

“Oops sorry, love. Was just going to tell you to not forget there’s dinner with my family tonight.”

“Yep, got the extra clothes in here.” You said holding up the bag to show him, he smiled and took his hands off your shoulders to take the bag from you and put it over his shoulder, “I could’ve carried it but thanks, bud.” You patted his shoulder and walked off. Tom’s heart dropped when you called him, “bud.”

-

Tom pulled up to a small cafe that seemed oddly familiar. As soon as he opened the door for you you remembered.

~

Tom brought back a tray with two burgers, fries, and waters. 

“This place has the best burgers in town. Closest thing we have to in-n-out burgers.” he said handing you the second tray. You told Tom you were starting to feel homesick and said he might know how to cheer you up. You smiled taking a huge bite into the burger, Tom looked at you waiting for your reaction, 

“Oh my god. Absolutely amazing!” Your eyes lit up and Tom’s heart jolted at the joy on your face. He continued to watch you eat the burger that was somewhat making you less homesick, “Hey, Holland, it’s rude to stare. Eat your burger before I eat it.” You joked and he laughed while taking a bite. His heart began to race as he debated whether or not he should tell you how he feels, then he thought ‘fuck it’.

“Y/n, darling?” You hummed in response.

Here goes nothing, “I like you, y/n. I have for a while now.”

~

Your thoughts went back to what Zendaya was saying, “don’t worry about boys right now.” You took a deep breath and moved up in the line with Tom. “Tom is that you?” Someone asked from behind the counter. 

“Oh, Ms. Sheila! It’s lovely seeing you again.” He said warmly and she came over to give him a hug.

“It’s been so long, and I see you’ve brought this lovely girl back. Is she your girlfriend now?” You widen your eyes and blush.

“Oh my uh no no. We’re just friends, Ms. Sheila.”

“Isn’t this the girl you confessed your feelings to, dear? Then you never came back after that, well only once and that was still ages ago.” 

“Oh, that was a while ago Ms. Sheila. Tom and I are just friends now.” You said before Tom. 

“Oh well that’s a shame you two would make a lovely couple. Anywho what can I get for you two today?” She asked as you followed her to her side of the counter.

“Two of the usuals please.” Tom asked. She nodded and brought the order out within 5 minutes. 

“Now, Tom, I hope you come back more often. Your brothers still come in every now and then.” Tom smiled and promised Ms. Sheila that he’d come back more. 

“How’d she know what your usual is if you haven’t been here in so long?” You asked as you both walked to a booth. 

“I’d come here to get breakfast with my family on Saturdays and would usually hang out here with my mates after school. This place is really special to me, I’ve made a lot of memories here.” He said picking at his fries, only making it more obvious what memory he was thinking about. You two ate in silence for a while not knowing what to say because of what went down the last time you were both here. 

“Alright, ready to go to set, love?” He asked, you nodded as you finished your last bit of the burger and he ate the last of your fries. You and Tom said goodbye to Ms. Sheila and said you’d come back again soon. 

“Thanks, Tom, I owe you big time.” You said looking at him with a smile.

“No problem, but what for?” He asked, glancing at you then back at the road.

“For the meal, taking me to set, and letting me stay at your lovely house.”

“Oh it’s no big deal. You helped me heal my burn,” he paused and cleared his throat, “Uhm b-besides, Harry literally begged me to let you stay, and I’ll be gone next week to film Uncharted. So I’ll uh be out of your hair” He joked and your heart dropped. Harry told you Tom is the one that suggested you stay at their house. Now you sat there confused about who to believe. Regardless you were definitely going to have a chat with Harry about all of this.

Tag list:  @averyfosterthoughts @thollandx @mrsjeffwittek @panicattheeverywherekid @racewife2004 @greatpizzascissorstaco @witchything @wheelertozier @runway-to-my-aid

[vegetalass]

RDR2 Boys Cooking + Eating Habits

Arthur 

Somebody else on here wrote some headcanons about Arthur not being able to cook and just eating microwave food all the time and I just have to say…. That’s canon 

Lowkey though he’s trying his best to get better at cooking

Probably the only thing he knows how to make is pasta 

He adds a bunch of random frozen veggies to water as the noodles are cooking 

And then smothers the whole thing in butter and calls it a meal

Or he puts marinara sauce on it straight from the jar 

And yes, that means it’s cold

He’s also getting better at friend rice, too

But he’s really bad at actually making rice 

If he doesn’t add too much water… He burns the bottom 

Charles makes a mental note to buy him a rice cooker for his birthday 

Makes his own popsicles out of random fruit juices and eats them 24/7 

Thinks this qualifies him as a chef

Eats pickles and olives straight out of the jar with a fork 

And sauerkraut too probably 

Just goes over to john’s house on his pizza nights 

Puts ketchup on eggs

John 

Pizza dad 

Probably orders pizza, salad, and a 64oz soda twice a week 

Everything else is just Dino chicken nuggets, Eggos, hot dogs, quesadillas, and frozen peas and corn 

Food you feed to little kids, basically 

Mostly because he does have a little kid 

But also because it’s easy and takes minimal effort and he doesn’t mind eating it, too

Abigail would be mad but she has no room to talk

The most you’ll see him actually make is buttered pasta (like Arthur) or sometimes beans and rice 

Abigail bought them a rice cooker a while ago so that’s one thing he doesn’t have to worry about 

Probably always has some type of dessert laying around 

Doesn’t mean it’s good, but it’s there 

Abigail buys a bunch of those gross, low calorie ice creams and John ends up having to finishing them 

Family lunches consist of a bologna sandwich on wheat bread with American cheese and mayo, a piece of fruit, a bag of chips or crackers, a go-gurt, and some gummies 

And yes he makes them for himself and Abigail too 

They’re all eating good at the Marston household 

(Not really)

Charles 

Everything he cooks are things that can’t be made in single batches 

Lots of healthy soups, chilis, stew, etc…

Most of the time, he makes too much of whatever it is so he always has leftovers 

Everyone is jealous when he brings them for lunch

Probably finds all of his recipes in the newspaper or random magazines he reads while at the grocery store checkout line

Everyone is like, “Charles… Why are you reading Women’s Fitness?” 

And he’s like, “Check out this salad recipe, though”

Puts hot sauce on everything 

Salad, macaroni and cheese, hamburgers... You name it 

And he’s the king of snacking

All of his snacks are healthy, though

Raw veggies and fruit and quinoa chips from Whole Foods or something like that

Nobody likes this

He’s one of those people who brings hard boiled eggs everywhere as a “snack,” too

And yea, he puts hot sauce on those, also 

He really likes those weird protein bars that are hard to bite into and taste like chalk 

The flavors are either normal stuff like white chocolate macadamia or Protein Power Punch with whey, chia and seaweed 

There’s no in between 

He’s also a charcuterie board legend

Hosea is jealous of this talent

Micah

Spends all his money on take out 

He’s totally one of those weird people who’s entire trash can is just filled with take out boxes and cans of coke or beer

Constantly eating fast food 

You ask him what he bought at the supermarket and he’s like “Pub mix and bud light” 

SIR 

Everything that he does manage to cook only involve one step of preparation 

Unseasoned, fried meats and boiled veggies 

Sometimes scrambled eggs and bacon

If he’s feeling fancy, he will make plain sandwiches

This is very rare, though

Can and will complain about anyone’s cooking

Even if it’s good and he he likes it

There are certain people he can’t do this to, though, or they won’t let him eat

The only person’s cooking he doesn’t complain about is Dutch’s

Constantly snacking from an entire party sized bag of chips

And yes, he eats straight out of the bag and wipes his fingers on his jeans

His oven is dirty

Hosea 

A meal for him is probably a handful of almonds and an applesauce or yogurt cup 

He is constantly making a bunch of those Tik Tok recipes where you just put a bunch of random stuff into your crock pot and add ranch seasoning and cream cheese

*insert all of those memes about mom pulling out the crock pot*

If you complain, he says “Well, you’re always welcome to cook, too”

Wears an apron when he cooks

Constantly eating plain toast with butter

And bananas 

And cheese sticks

Thinks that this makes him “healthy” 

Definitely likes to snack on those cocktail fruit cups and canned mandarin oranges

His entire freezer is just full of ice cream 

It’s all weird flavors like Cherry Garcia, chocolate banana, and pistachio though

Everyone hates him for this

Raisins are his late night treat 

Has a secret stash of candy no one can find 

That’s okay though because it’s mostly Werthers Originals

And Chiclets gum

He picks out all the orange ones, though

Dutch

Tries to re-plate takeout so he can call it his own

Everybody sees through this but they stopped commenting on it like four Thanksgivings ago 

Buys a bunch of those meals from Costco that all you need to do is heat up in the oven

He does like fast food but only from the less popular places

Carl’s Jr., Wendy’s, BK, Arby’s, etc. 

A&W, too, because he’s old and weird

He can totally cook, he just never does 

It’s just normal stuff like spaghetti and meatballs or chicken and rice, though

Tuna fish casserole

He over-seasons everything, though

Mostly because he’s trying to prove that he’s a good cook 

Eats dessert twice, every night 

Once right after dinner, and then later when he’s feeling like a treat 

Will eat in bed

Uses a little bib and tray and everything 

Likes pumpkin and sunflower seeds

Would eat hot wings with gloves on 

He’s the one who taught Arthur to put ketchup on eggs 

Kieran 

The second I realized that Kieran would probably be white trash, my life changed 

Hamburger Helper meals for LIFE

That one cheeseburger pasta? Kieran probably eats that three times a week 

He 100% makes the ketchup-butter sketti from Honey Boo Boo 

“It’s been a while since I done had roadkill in my belly”

His favorite dessert is ambrosia salad or that weird yogurt/Cool Whip covered jello that was popular in the 2000s

Probably has a TV dinner every once in a while, too

Instant mashed potatoes and minute rice type of guy 

Also gives me big microwave cheddar broccoli vibes 

I’ve said this before, but his house is probably stocked with all kinds of on-brand goodies 

Probably always has some kind of chip and cookie around 

Eats dinner in front of the TV

Dips french fries in mayonnaise

All of this said though, he isn’t a picky eater and will eat whatever is put on his plate 

That’s why he’s great to take to restaurants, because he never complains

Honestly it’s just so sweet to think of him making big crockpot meals to share with ppl even if his cooking is a lil.... strange 

Javier

Thinks that the hot dog combo from Costco is a suitable dinner 

Also gets hot food from the grocery store for dinner a lot

Literally will just heat up a can of something and eat it plain 

Beans, chili, soup… 

Doesn’t doctor it up or change it at all 

He’s happy to share but no one wants any

Chips and dip, 24/7

And it’s just Tostitos Hint of Lime chips and hummus

Probably puts hummus on everything, too 

Corn chips, tortilla chips, tortillas, vegetables, sandwiches, etc. 

Will put anything in a tortilla and call it a sandwich 

Eats leftovers cold 

The rest of the gang thinks this is a sin

Makes stir fry with whatever is laying around the house

It’s a little gross because he will try to add leftover beans

Refuses to eat fast food

The only exception he’ll make is for french fries and ice cream

Walks around and eats at the same time

Isn’t above asking the other boys to share with him 

Despite the fact that this only happens if what they’re eating is good

Which is almost never

Sean

Sean can’t cook. That’s the end of it

The most he can make is that weird microwave Mac and cheese where the pasta is boiled in the mug?? 

He never does it tho and just sticks with the normal, frozen Mac and Cheese you can microwave instead

Uses his microwaving ability to make mug cakes

And microwave scrambled eggs

Burns his popcorn every single time

He’s probably set of the smoke detector or fire alarm multiple times

He’s Irish though so of course he’s addicted to potatoes and cabbage

And since he’s from the UK, he likes stuff like beans on toast and marmite

He’s a little nasty too so catch him eating bologna sandwiches on wonder bread

Not even the Marstons are that bad

When he does get takeout, he overspends trying to use a delivery app 

He’s like, “And do I need the extra side of special sauce for $5…? Yes.” 

Cooks like this 

[mono-dot-jpeg]

fries and milkshakes - k. tsukishima

Summary: A salty volleyball player and a pro gamer walk into a room, so many insults were made that day.

Word Count: 1.8k

Genre: Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, Pro Gamer! Reader, Open Ended (?) 

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Reader

a/n: purely a self indulgent fanfic bc salty shima is growing on my best friend :))) follow them if you haven’t >:(((( @mangobangi​ also a very fun quote was put in here from them as well skjdksjdk

"Waa~ the season is over! Thank god. I don't have to worry about practicing with Heesu!" You sighed blissfully. Now you weren't a pro at what would be called normal sports but you were definitely a pro at gaming.

You were (streamer/name), one of the pro players of Philadelphia Fusion from the Overwatch League. You were known for being one of the first females to join Overwatch League. It was a bumpy ride but you made it far. But now you had your studies to focus on. While you weren't in the official line up (due to how young you were), you practiced hard with the benched players and streamed in your free time with your fellow teammates.

You arrived at Karasuno, it wasn't a new day for you. A pretty normal day, except you were transferring into a higher class so that was pretty new. You get to Class 1-4, entering hesitantly.

"Ah, you must be the new student! Introduce yourself!"

"Morning, I'm y/n l/n! Please call me y/n! Nice to meet you!" You bowed as you introduced yourself, you ended up having to sit next to a tall blonde named Tsukishima Kei. Soon it was free time/study hall.

Some students had come up to you as they seemed to recognize you from your streams. You never minded the attention and you just hoped it never got too bad. "Are you really s/n?"

"I prefer not to talk about it too much.." You laughed nervously.

"Wow! You're in like the top 50 in the Asia and American servers!" You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. You were never one to brag about your achievements. It was all just a video game to you in the end but then again, you were gonna be in Overwatch League when you get out of high school.

"She can reach top 50 and yet her height says she can barely reach the middle shelf." You turned to look at the tall male.

"Well, that's not very nice, Tsukishima-kun." You tell him. "And if you're gonna insult me, make up something better. I've dealt with years of misogyny in the gaming world, fight me." You have an annoyed glint in your eye as he glares at you.

"Oh my bad, chibi-chan." You were walking right into his trap and you didn't even realize it. "At least I'm in the starting line up on my team." He snickered. He knew very well that you were part of the Philly Fusion and you knew he was in the volleyball team. He knew of a few ways to push your buttons.

"H-Hey! I'll be in the starting line up soon! Just you wait! I'll be at the top!" You huffed. "You'll see me with the big boys, you salty beanpole of a guy!"

"Beanpole? Is that really the best you could come up with?"

"I could come up with worse but I don't think you could handle the heat. What with your petty insults and all." You crossed your arms. "At least I'm at the top with the best."

“Tch, what insults could you come up with, chibi-chan?” He scoffed. Everyone can feel the tension rise between you both. Luckily, a fight didn’t happen due to the fact that the bell had rung. While you and Tsukishima were frustrated at the sound of the bell, Yamaguchi seemed very relieved. 

It’s been several days since you got transferred to Class 1-4. You made a decent amount of friends in the class (though you weren’t sure if someone of them wanted to be genuinely friends with you or they just wanted to meet your teammates). You were really good friends with Yamaguchi, although you still didn’t like Tsukishima enough to want to be his friend. More often than not, you both spat insults at each other with no remorse. It seemed to be a mutual thing, neither of you wanted to be friends nor plan on it. 

You went to see volleyball practice pretty often as to support Yamaguchi (though Tsukki joked a lot that you were obsessed at continuing the feud you and Tsukishima had). “Hey Yama-kun.” You weren’t as energetic as it was getting close to league season and that meant less time with hanging out with friends.

“Are you okay, y/n-chan?” he asked as he was rubbing the sweat off his face with his towel.

“It’s almost league season for me, which mean I won’t spend as much time here. I’ll be home earlier to practice with my team.” You often practiced in your free time when it was off-season but the coach always thought it was better for you to practice with the team even if you weren’t gonna be in the line up.

“You really have to practice even if you’re not in the lineup?” Tsukishima scoffed.

“At least I’m passionate about what I do! You barely put energy into yourself playing!” You snapped back at him.

“Whatever..” He muttered.

“Sorry about Tsukki..” Yamaguchi said. “So, you’re gonna be really busy now, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna be going back to the Fusion base since they might want me to train over there.” That struck a cord in the duo.

“You’re gonna be leaving?” Yamaguchi asked, shocked.

“Yeah. But it won’t be forever. But they know it would be better for me if I went back to school around the Fusion base so it would be easier for me.” You ruffled your hair in slight frustration. “So funny enough, this is my first and last year here.” You sighed. Tsukishima didn’t know what to say. Nor did he realize what feeling were stirring up inside of him. But they didn’t feel good.

“That sucks, but you’re gonna get close to your dream, right?” The green haired male asked. “I’m glad you’ll get the dream you wanted but we’ll miss you when you leave.” He smiled sadly.

“Saltyshima won’t miss me though but I appreciate that you will.” You smiled at Yamaguchi while said male scoffed at your statement. “Let’s just have fun for these last few day before I leave.”

“Eh? You’re leaving that soon?”

“In 3 days actually. On Saturday.” 

D-1

You already felt yourself missing everything in this school. While Tsukishima is struggling to think about what were these dumb feelings doing to him. Why was he feeling this way? Why was it always towards you? Why were these feelings even existing?

“Okay, Tsukishima-kun. Yamaguchi and I made a promise. I have to try and get along with you before I leave to go back. So, let’s start over.” You stuck his hand out. He doesn’t shake your hand and scoffs.

“Like I wanna be friends with you, chibi-chan.”

“Okay, let’s go out to eat then. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“How about ‘I decline’?” He says back.

“It’ll just be for 30 mins after practice. You can handle that right, Tsukki?” You say almost mockingly.

“Fine.” He huffed. And so started the adventure of the salty male and the pro gamer. After practice both of you headed off to a small diner. “Wow, very fancy.” He says sarcastically.

“Hey, my mom won’t let me in on the money from Overwatch League, give me a break.” You ordered fries and a milkshake. He ordered the same thing as he didn’t seem to care for anything else on the menu. You held up a fry close to his mouth. “Look it’s you.” Before you could move your hand back to eat the fry, he moves closer and eats the fry, his lips just grazing your fingers. “Hey! You have your own sets of fries, Saltyshima!”

“Never said I couldn’t eat your fries though, chibi-chan.” He smirked smugly. How were you gonna get along with the male if he acted like this? You don’t know. You sip on your strawberry milkshake as you glare at him.

D-2

“You’re telling me, you haven’t dipped your fries in a milkshake before?! You’ve got to be kidding me.” You huffed. “Well, now you gotta try it, right now. Do it.” You crossed your arms as you waited for him to do it. You and Tsukishima had unknowingly made a routine between each other which was fries and a milkshake after practice or after school.

“No way.”

“Do it, you coward.” You dip your fry into your milkshake and eat it. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”

“If I do it, will you stop annoying me?”

“You and I both know, I’d still annoy you. Just do it.” He rolled his eyes at your statement before finally trying a fry dipped in the milkshake. “So?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“See! I’m such an intellectual!”

“How are you in my class again?”

D-3

“So...this is the last time we do this. Then I leave.” You were a little gloomy since you and Tsukishima seemed to finally get along, only to probably forget each other in the long run.

“You act like you’re leaving forever. You’ll come back when the season ends, right?”

“I..don’t know yet.” You sighed as you stirred your milkshake with your straw. “You’ll wait for me right? If I come back.”

“When you come back. Don’t say if.” You laughed a bit, but it was a bitter laugh.

“I never thought we’d somewhat get along and when we do, I have to leave for Overwatch League.” You muttered. “Why don’t you come and say goodbye to me when I get to the airport? My aunt is driving me, Yama-kun knows where I live, come with us.” You offered.

“Maybe.”

“Well, let’s not make this our last goodbye right?” You said softly.

Leaving Day

You took a deep breath. Yamaguchi is sitting beside you as he notices the sad look on your face. Tsukishima didn’t come with you to say goodbye. “I’m sure he’ll show up.” He said, trying to be optimistic.

“I don’t know, Yamaguchi...” You mumble. You finally arrive at the airport. “I’ll miss you. I’ll try to text and call as much as I can.” You give him a sad smile. You hug him as he hugs you back.

“I’ll see you soon.” He smiled. You grab your suitcase slowly starting to leave.

“Oh, chibi-chan, you think you can escape from me that easily?” You hear a familiar voice and look up, seeing Tsukishima. Yamaguchi seem to have to take that as a sign to give you and him some space.

“You came after all.” You smiled. He patted your head before pushing you back, chuckling.

“Who do you think I am, chibi-chan?”

“Well, say your goodbyes now. I got to go soon.”

“Right. We got off the wrong foot in the beginning. I will admit that. But within the last 3 days, I tolerate you.”

“Wow, you tolerate me. That’s better than before.”

“Let me finish. I will wait for you. I...don’t just tolerate you. I like you.” His face is dusted with pink, making you hold back a smile and a tease. He took a step closer and kissed your forehead, surprising you. “Take that as my goodbye. Don’t forget to text me when you land, idiot.”

“I won’t forget, beanpole.”

“Shortstack.”

“Lamppost.”

“Gremiln.”

“Salty fries.”

“Sweet milkshake.”

“When you get back, you better buy me fries and a milkshake.”

“I haven’t even left.”

“Well, hurry, so you can come back quickly.”

“I like you too, Saltyshima!” 

[stilestilikeslydia]

Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy: Part Two

so I’m almost never on tumblr anymore, but in case any of you remember my old fics, I wanted to come back to let you know that I FINALLY finished the second part to this fic that I wrote for the Stydia Big Bang almost four years ago haha

there’s also some excellent art for it that @wellsjahasghost and @sydrianssage made for it way back in 2017 that you can check out here and here if you would like :)

enjoy!

(Rated M)

“I can't believe I've been a ghost for ten years, and nobody thought to tell me about the new Star Wars trilogy until today. ”

“Stiles, nobody even knew you existed until last month.”

Kira slapped Malia’s knee—lightly, because Kira was still incapable of giving an actual reprimand. “Well, we’ve told you about it now,” she said, offering him her brightest smile. “What did you think?”

“I think… I miss my blissful ignorance from eight hours ago, when I didn’t know that George Lucas greenlit this absolute garbage fire,” Stiles whined. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, The Force Awakens started out with a lot of potential, and the cast is full of extremely hot and talented people, but what the fuck?! My only regret is that my death tree wasn’t transformed into a desk in the writers’ room for these movies, or I could have haunted those dipshits until they figured out how to write a plot that actually made sense.”

“Your only regret, huh?” Lydia asked, keeping her tone dry and incredulous.

“No, you're right,” Stiles said, his expression instantly transforming into the biggest shit-eating grin Lydia had seen since before he'd died. “I also regret not inventing ectoplasmic grocery stores before my death. It’s unfair that I cook for all of you and don't get to eat any of it.”

“Not our fault you actually enjoy cooking,” Malia pointed out. “And depleting Lydia's bank account.”

“I am going to strangle you,” Lydia said. “Werecoyote strength or not.”

“But then who’s going to sit next to you in bars and make fun of everybody we see?”

“Yeah, you need her for that,” Kira added. “I’m terrible at judging people, and so is Scott.”

Scott toasted her with a grin, looking relaxed and comfortable against the armrest of the oversized couch he was currently sharing with a ghost and a realtor. Stiles took one look at him and snorted.

“Scott’s a terrible judge of many things,” he agreed. “People… the distance between a car bumper and the curb… movies…”

“Movies?”

“Yes, Scott!” Stiles crowed, now fully recovered from his initial disappointment. “This trilogy may have been a mess, but in order to watch it, you must have seen the other two trilogies too, and that means you have to know how great they are! Admit it, Star Wars is amazing, you were wrong, and I was right! Not watching it with me earlier was the biggest mistake of your life!”

“Maybe not the biggest,” Scott said, the grin on his face slipping a little. Lydia’s fingers tightened around the stem of her wine glass. “Anyway, I already knew the Star Wars movies were good. I watched them junior year.”

“Junior year?! ” Stiles squawked, so surprised that he started sinking into the couch. “And you never told me?! What the hell, man, all those times you pretended not to get my references and you—”

“Of college,” Scott clarified, and the room went silent.

Lydia set her wine glass down on the coffee table with trembling fingers. The tapping of glass on wood sounded like a gunshot, a bullet to the lungs. There was a crescent moon outside. For one heart-shattering moment, Lydia swore she could smell wolfsbane.

“I’m going to go get a glass of water,” she said, voice too harsh to her own ears, bouncing off the walls and clanging in her skull. Another bullet to the lungs.

The next thing she became aware of was the press of a cabinet knob against her back, the solidity of a hardwood floor underneath her body. She was leaning against the kitchen island, eyes level with the cabinet that Stiles had poked open over and over again to entertain Brooke all those weeks ago. Tonight, though, when she opened it herself, there was nothing inside.

Lydia clung to the knob anyway and tried not to cry.

It wasn’t Stiles who came to check on her after a few minutes, or Scott, or even Kira. Instead, Malia was the one who tugged the cabinet door out of Lydia’s hand and dropped to the floor, flinging her legs out to one side and meeting Lydia’s eyes without flinching.

“Kira started talking about BB-8 again,” she said. “Scott looked like he wanted to change the subject.”

Lydia pressed her lips together, looked away, and settled her hands on her knees with careful precision. “That was nice of her. I’m sure he did.”

“He told me, you know,” Malia continued without missing a beat. “About what you told him. About Stiles wanting you to sell the house.”

Lydia’s fingers clenched around the hem of her dress. “Yes.”

Malia narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to?”

“I have to,” Lydia said, “or Yvenne will just find another realtor.”

“Okay, maybe,” Malia said. “But who are you going to sell it to ?”

Lydia froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on,” she said. “I know you’ve been considering it. You’ve been eyeing the curtains in the living room like you can’t wait to change them all night.”

“Maybe I just can’t believe Yvenne expects me to find a buyer for this house when it’s been decorated so poorly.”

Malia rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me. I’m more observant than you think, and I’m not Scott or Stiles. I’m not going to try and stop you.”

Slowly, precisely, Lydia tilted her head and met Malia’s piercing gaze. “You know what you’re saying, right? Scott and Stiles would try to stop me.”

“Yeah,” Malia said. “And that matters, because Lydia Martin always does what people tell her to do. And I had a normal childhood. And math was my favorite subject in high school.”

After a long moment, Lydia stood. Malia mimicked the movement. “I just think we’ve already lost enough people,” Lydia admitted. “I don’t want to lose him twice.”

“Like I said. I’m not going to try and stop you.”

For a while, Lydia told herself that she hadn’t made up her mind. She let Stiles cook her every meal and listened to him relive memories from high school and the two years of college he’d gotten to enjoy, doing his best to help her appreciate the times they’d shared together without losing herself in them. She fell asleep on the couch with him while they watched movies together and pretended that she didn’t know he’d been playing with her hair when she woke up. She allowed him to teach her how to cook and change the oil in her car, life skills that she’d always expected him to handle in their relationship, life skills he wanted her to master before he moved onto wherever he expected to go once he stopped being a ghost, but—

But then, on a Thursday afternoon a week before Yvenne’s deadline, Lydia’s phone rang.

They were in the middle of making stir fry, but Stiles nudged her with the spatula he was using—one loophole he’d found for their inability to make physical contact—and told her to answer it “just in case.” “It could be important, Lyds.”

That was precisely why she didn’t want to answer it, but with a long-suffering sigh and a pointed glare, Lydia wiped her hands off on a paper towel and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hello, Lydia Martin? This is Shea O’Malley.”

Predictably and irksomely, Lydia’s heart rate increased. “What can I do for you, Shea?” she asked, smoothing on her realtor’s smile even though Shea couldn’t see. Between the way Stiles’s eyebrows were raised and the way his head was tilted so he could hear Shea’s half of the conversation, Lydia needed the extra armor.

“Well, Ben and Piper and I have been shopping around the neighborhoods near that lovely red house you showed us, but we simply haven’t found a place that compares. After a long discussion, Ben and I have decided that there’s no use searching any longer. We would like to place an offer on that red house.”

Lydia’s head was all white noise and bloodstains and terror. She tried to picture saying goodbye to Stiles and watching him dissolve into whatever dimension the rest of their dead loved ones had ended up in. She tried to imagine handing the keys over to the O’Malleys and leaving the red house for good. She tried to convince herself that it was possible for her to move on.

But like the O’Malleys, Lydia discovered that it was no use.

Once upon a time, it might have been possible for her to move on. But now Lydia’s heart was inextricably entwined with this red house.

The only difference was that Lydia had the ability to hold onto it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, the white noise fading to a treacherous whisper. (So, basically nothing. Treacherous whispers were old friends in Lydia’s mind.) “You’re too late. The red house has already been sold.”

Stiles froze. Lydia froze, judging his reaction. Over the phone line, Lydia heard Shea’s breath catch, and then she sighed. “Are you certain there’s no chance of the buyer changing their mind? I mean, if we could place a counteroffer—”

“I’m afraid that there’s no amount of money you could offer that this particular buyer wouldn’t match,” Lydia said with as much gentleness as she could muster. The O’Malleys really were a nice family. “They’re quite dedicated, have a substantial savings account, and are at least as attached to the house as you are.”

Shea’s second sigh was only slightly less audible than the first. “Well, that’s it, then,” she said tiredly. “Thank you for all of your help, Lydia. We all thoroughly enjoyed meeting you the other day.”

“If you still haven’t found a different house in the next few weeks, let me know and I’ll help you keep looking. Free of charge,” Lydia blurted, because she was going to keep the house and Stiles and therefore she could afford to offer a little kindness to the family whose dream home she had just poached.

“Why, that’s very kind of you,” Shea said, oblivious to Lydia’s silent betrayal. “We may just take you up on that offer. Thank you again.”

And after the exchange of a few more pleasantries, she hung up.

“What the fuck?” Stiles said into the resulting silence. “A buyer made an offer on this house, and you didn’t tell me about it?”

Lydia set her phone on the counter. “You don’t really want me to leave.”

Stiles dropped his spatula. “What?”

“Come on, Stiles,” Lydia said. “Who do you think you’re talking to? If you really wanted me to move on, you never would have opened your mouth. I would have walked into this house on that first day, sold it, and walked right back out without ever knowing that you were here.”

“I—” Stiles spluttered. “I was surprised, and I just—”

“Maybe,” Lydia replied. “But that could have been it. I told you not to make it difficult for me to sell this house, and instead you scared off buyer after buyer until I figured out who you were. You say you want me to move on, but you’re here, Stiles. You’re standing right in front of me, and I’m never going to move on when I could have this instead!”

“What do you want me to say?” Stiles demanded. “Do you want an apology? Because I know you deserve one. I—I—I’m sorry for talking to you, I’m sorry for cooking you dinner, I’m sorry for being here! I didn’t mean to make this harder for you, and I’m sorry that I did! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“NO!”

It wasn’t a banshee scream, but it left Lydia hoarse and aching all the same.

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” she whispered. “I just want you to want me to stay.”

“Well, I am sorry, Lyds. And I can’t give that to you.”

“Stiles—”

“Pick up the phone, Lydia. Call the O’Malleys. Tell them the buyer changed their mind.”

Lydia took a deep breath and looked at the man who was the love of both her life and whatever came after that. “No.”

“Lydia.”

“No, Stiles! I’m not going to do that! These last few weeks have been the happiest weeks of the past ten years. You can’t honestly stand there and expect me to give that up.”

“That’s the thing, though,” he said. “I’m not actually standing here.”

“That doesn’t matter to me.”

“But it should.” Stiles reached out, brushed his fingers through a loose strand of her hair, and then stepped away. “I might not be able to stop you from buying this house, but that doesn’t mean I have to give you a reason to live here.”

There was a whoosh, as if he was opening up that interdimensional doorway again, and then he disappeared.

On the stove, the stir fry began to burn.

(read the rest on ao3)