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hisunshiine · 3 years

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𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭

♡ 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘫𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘬𝘰𝘰𝘬

♡ 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴

♡ 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵

♡ 𝘸𝘤: 3343

an: commissioned story

Walking up the stairs to your best friends’ apartment, you hang your cape over your shoulder, defeated. Waiting patiently as Namjoon unlocked the front door, Jungkook shuffled side to side, just as upset as you, the evidence written across his face. His signature bunny smile, nowhere to be found, was replaced with a pout fixed on his face as he followed you into the apartment while Namjoon struggled to get the key back out of the golden deadbolt lock.

The sound of shoes being slipped off filled the silence along with jangling keys and the low murmur of curses followed by a soft exclamation of joy as Namjoon shut the door.

“I’m sorry babe. I didn’t know it was cancelled. I didn’t check my email before we left...”

You tossed your purple cape over the couch and got comfy in your favorite spot. Tucked into the left corner of the couch, your sheer pantyhose legs crossed, you dropped your head onto the back rest of the couch and attempted to look at Namjoon still in the entryway. Dressed up as Thor, his arms flexed nicely as you watched him put his shoes on the rack by the door, grown out blond hair falling in his face.

“Joonie, it’s fine. I don’t blame you. I’m just sad we didn’t get to show off our hard work.” You gesture at your outfit, Raven from Teen Titans, and shrugged. Left in just the black long sleeved leotard and hosiery, you sigh.

“Poor Kookie here has been doing pushups and crunches for the past two weeks so that he could pull off a gladiator from 300.” You turned your gaze to Jungkook, perched on the barstool next to the kitchen counter, elbow braced on the table to hold his head up as he sulked. “Nice job by the way, you got a lot of looks when we were walking up to the convention center.”

He laughed, shameless as always when showing off his beautifully built frame.

“Hey, I think the woman with the baby stroller really enjoyed the view.”

“I would hope so, she damn near tripped over her own child breaking her neck to stare.”

You lean up as Namjoon makes his way over to the couch, your eyes following the way his well-built body moves in the ludicrously tight Thor outfit.

“What can we do to make it up to you? We rarely get a day off like this, all together.”

He was right. Adulting had made the time spent with your best friends almost nonexistent. Attempts to hang out, all three of you, rarely went off without a hitch; with Namjoon receiving calls from the office about accounts in progress, or Jungkook having to go in to work with the local sports team as their trainer during both on and off seasons, and you working your 9 to 5. It was stressful.

“Honestly, just spending time with you guys is all I need.”

Namjoon lifted your legs to sit next to you, placing them in his lap as Jungkook jumped up and grabbed a dusty, small box off the living room bookshelf. An old deck of Uno cards that you all used to stay up late and play in college is tossed onto the coffee table while Jungkook’s feet carried him to the kitchen, where he grabbed a few beers.

“For old time’s sake?”

——————

Uno had turned into Strip Uno quickly, once you all were a few beers deep. The opaque green glass bottles were set off to the side of the coffee table as the three of you sat around, tipsy and half naked, laughing at each other.

Jungkook had been the first one to lose an article of clothing, his Leonidas style crown tossed on the other side of the couch with Namjoon’s discarded cape. Namjoon followed suit with his costume shirt being next to disappear from his body. The males’ losing streak ended when you were the unlucky one to lose a large item, your black leotard. It wasn’t long before Jungkook, who had already been shirtless, had lost his roman gladiator skort, and Namjoon’s pants made it onto the clothing pile, leaving the three of you sitting comfortably in half-nakedness.

“God, I can’t believe we used to really trade girls back and forth, hyung.” Jungkook was laughing as he remembered some of their crazier antics, which you knew all about as their best friend. You’d even walked into some compromising situations once or twice, and saw exactly what each of them was working with below the belt.

“I can, man, we were insatiable. Fuck, we still are Kook, don’t act like just because we’re working now crazy shit still doesn’t happen.”

Namjoon’s eyes were low, the alcohol in his system making him feel nice.

“You’re right,” Jungkook giggled, face red from intoxication, “just way less often. It’s been what? 4 months or so? We need to throw a party or something.”

“You guys are just as bad as you were in college.” You say, leaning back into the couch behind you. None of you had moved from the floor where you had sat around the table to play Uno.

“Oh, right. I forgot that you were our ‘goody two shoes’ girl. Never did anything wrong...” Namjoon tried to roll his eyes, but the half-moon shape barely showed the whites of his eyes.

“That’s not true… I was just way better at being discreet. It wasn’t the campus’ business who I let between my legs.”

“We played ‘never have I ever’ so many times, though… You never did anything bad.” Jungkook pouted at you, thinking you were lying to him. In reality, you lied back then. It wasn’t anyone’s business and you weren’t going to expose others’ sex lives just for some drinking game.

“I did, I just didn’t put a finger down,” you laughed. “I still drank what I was supposed to, I just didn’t want to be questioned about my threesomes and shit.”

Namjoon couldn’t believe what he heard. You, his precious best female friend, had a threesome before. The air in the room shifts, the tension palpable in the room.

“No, not my YN. You’re the good one.” Namjoon stated jokingly, though you could sense he was still serious.

“I need the details, YN.” Jungkook stared at you, eyes steady as he pinned you with his gaze.

His look is full of desire, and you can see him move ever so slightly as if he was uncomfortable. Jungkook’s hand moves to cover his hardening cock, but not before you can see that it was exactly what was making him so uncomfortable in his boxer briefs.

“It was nothing wild, Koo. We were drunk, it was college, one of them, the girl, said that getting eaten out feels better by a woman, the other said no way and said he was the best ever to do it, so I volunteered to test out their theory and draw an end to the pissing contest.”

You chuckled to yourself as you remembered how much fun it was. The memory turned you on slightly; you can feel your arousal drip onto your thong.

“So who was better?”

“She was, definitely.”

Namjoon shakes his head and Jungkook leans back, incredulous. Both had leaned in towards you as you told the short story, falling on every word that you said.

“Pfft! No way, I could totally out-do the chick.”

“Same. He didn’t know what he was doing, clearly.”

You shifted your body to get more comfortable, sitting with your knees bent and spread open in an L shape as you leaned back against the seat of the couch. You may have been curvy, but you were comfortable around Jungkook and Namjoon as they had known you for so long and seen you in various stages of undress, sobriety, and moods.

“I mean, we can always test it out.” You gesture your arm out at the 2 of them, resting your forearm on the knee that is bent up to the sky.

It’s silent, deadly, as they stare at you. Jungkook’s eyes roam your body that is on display for him, instinctively licking his lips. Namjoon, who was still leaned towards you, gives a smirk that has you… excited.

“Baby, you couldn’t handle me.”

“Awe, Joonie, it’s cute that you think so.”

“I’d be better at it anyways.” Jungkook chimed in. That cocky confidence oozing over him as he mimics your pose, though leaning back on his palm, arm extended to share part of his weight.

“Mmm.. I don’t know Kookie, I think Namjoon has been at it a little longer than you, plus, no offense, but he has fuller lips...” You turn away from Jungkook’s pout toward Namjoon, who’s still got that damn smirk on his face.

He moved forward, practically stalking on his hands and knees as he brings himself into your personal space. You watch the way his chest and arms flex, mouth practically drooling at the sight.

“You've been sizing me up, baby?” His voice is low, deeper as he let his hunger for you show. His hand slides along your hip, fingers curling gently around you. “You think about how good it would feel, my tongue between your legs?”

He’s surprised that you didn’t pull away. When you reached up and grabbed a handful of his blond locks and tugged, you reveled in the low groan he let out, eyes fixated on his quivering Adam’s apple as the sinful sound reverberated throughout the apartment.

“Damn—” your eyes snapped to Jungkook, whose pupils had dilated as he watched the interaction between you and his hyung. His mouth hung open; he hadn’t realized he had verbalized his thoughts.

“Everything okay, bun?” you asked, using Jungkook’s pet name that you loved to use when teasing him.

He cleared his throat, his hand stroking gently at his clothed cock, trying to ease the ache.

“Yeah—please, continue.”

You realized he was addressing Namjoon when you felt his parted lips skim across your neck, soft and wet as his tongue joined. Latching on gently, you rolled your head back allowing him more access as you yourself were now the one affected, moaning breathily as his solid frame hovered over you, pressing you back into the couch. You tightened your grip on his hair, and he bit your neck a little harder in response.

Eyes fluttered closed, you felt a second set of hands on you, palms sliding along the pantyhose that still covered your legs.

“I know you’ve thought about this...” Jungkook’s lips moved along your tummy as he talked, small kisses along the waistband of your hosiery. “Can practically feel how badly you want this.”

His fingers dipped into your band and began to tug them down, freeing your thighs from their confines. You arched your back, unable to not react as he mouthed loudly at your clothed core, his tongue flicking against the cotton to trace the outline of your needy clit as he groaned with the inhale of your arousal.

Namjoon on the other hand was quieter, mouth busy sucking light bruises to your skin as his large hands palmed your ample breasts. As he kissed down your neck and collar bone, he pulled one mound from your bra, laving his tongue around your aroused nipple to pull sounds out of you.

So enthralled in the feel of Namjoon, you don’t notice that Jungkook has you stripped bare, not until he’s nudged your thighs apart and settled himself between, a trail of wet kisses along your inner thigh almost unnoticed due to the amount of pleasure you’re feeling—that is until his lips latched onto your clit, a combined sucking motion with a flicking tongue, made your free hand dive into his mess of dark strands, directing his ministrations.

“Fuck, Jungkook, d-don’t stop.”

Namjoon moved to be behind you, replacing the couch as your backing as Jungkook circled his arms around your thighs and pulled you down closer to his feasting mouth. Namjoon began to kiss at your neck, hands resumed their massaging of your chest, nipples rolling between his fingers as you held Jungkook’s head so you could roll your hips, fucking yourself on his tongue.

Feeling it build, the delightful coiling in your abdomen snaps when Jungkook enters you with a thrust of his two fingers and strokes roughly along your walls, brushing the rough patch of bundled nerves. You cry out, head thrown back onto Namjoon’s shoulder as you buck, hips rolling as you ride out your high on Jungkook’s face.

“Definitely think that I was better than that girl, huh, angel?”

You nod, never one to lie about how good or bad someone is sexually.

“You let me have the control to fuck your face, it was amazing.” You tell him, your chest rapidly moving as you attempted to regulate your breathing.

“My turn.”

You feel more than see Namjoon switch places with Jungkook, maneuvering your body to a more comfortable position. Jungkook’s cock, hard and erect, is now pressed between your back and his abs when you leaned back onto him.

“Oh, he left you such a mess, baby.” Namjoon licks a stripe along your swollen clit, lapping at the juices. You’re still sensitive, but he pushed your thighs apart so his large hands could hold you in place as he slowly teased at your folds until you felt yourself leaning into it, wanting more instead of squirming away.

“Right there Joonie—shit, that feels—oh!”

Namjoon’s thumb rubbed wet circles on your swollen nub as his tongue explored every inch of you, teasing and tasting. Jungkook held you tight in his embrace, preventing you from running now that you could feel your second orgasm building.

To make your judgement fair, Jungkook’s lips and hands touched your body where he could reach, knowing that Namjoon’s ministrations had added to your heightened senses when it had been him gracing the spot between your thighs.

Namjoon’s nose pressed against your clit as he open-mouth kissed your heat, devouring as much as he could of your release before you replaced what he had cleaned up. You could feel the growing orgasm spreading through your veins, the thrum of your beating heart loud in your ears until Namjoon inserted his fingers. The squelching sound as your walls sucked his first two fingers into you caused both men to groan, the vibrations of the one feasting leading you to arch your back into Jungkook’s chest. Toes curling, your mouth is open as you try and catch your breath, but Namjoon did the same move as Jungkook and you squirmed as it consumed you, a crackling of electricity taking over your senses.

Sitting up, Namjoon grinned over your shoulder, knowing that the move his younger roommate taught him all those years ago never fails.

“I would say that makes it 1 for Jungkook, 1 for Namjoon, as we now hold the title ‘better than the girl who rocked your world’, right JK? Our good girl is finally enjoying being bad.”

Namjoon’s chin and lips were slicked with your cum, and you nodded, still a little fucked out as you came down.

“Damn, I wonder what prize we should get?”

Lifting an eyebrow, you sat up off Jungkook's chest, propelling yourself forward until you were on your hands and knees, eye level with Namjoon’s obvious hard-on. Licking your lips, his eyes followed the movement. He watched your every move as you leaned down, opened your mouth slowly, and lowered your tongue to the fabric covering his erection. You hear Jungkook inhale at the view you provide, sopping cunt on display.

“Mmph.. shit, baby.” Namjoon’s cock twitches as your mouth, hot and wet, teases his most sensitive area, and when he lifts his hips slightly, chasing as you pull away, you decide to show him exactly how much you enjoy being bad.

Your hands have pulled his boxer briefs down and the bulbous tip has entered your mouth before he was able to see the glint in your eye. Taking him into your mouth fully, he let out a sound you never thought you’d hear from him, a loud moan higher than his usual tone and accompanied with movement from his hips as he thrust up. Spit from your mouth dripped down his shaft as you pulled back.

You heard Jungkook mutter a curse as your hips swayed seductively in his face, and you removed your lips off of Namjoon with a wet pop sound, replacing your mouth with your hand as you stroked his length. Turning your head to peek over your shoulder, you follow Jungkook’s gaze, smirking.

“Hey Bun, you gonna stare at it all night, or are you going to fill me up?”

You giggled as he scrambled up onto his knees, his hands tugging at his underwear to free himself from the restraining fabric. You grasp Namjoon’s thighs before you lower yourself again, the thrust of Jungkook entering you from behind pushing you farther onto Namjoon’s cock. The moan vibrates along his shaft, and Namjoon’s toes curl as you swallow around him, tongue tracing the thick vein.

“Fuck, you’re so wet...” Jungkook’s voice, melodious as he vocalizes with each thrust, causes you to clench involuntarily as he splits you. The burn from the stretch feels good, so good, and you push back onto him, fucking yourself as his hands hold onto your curves.

“Her mouth… Jungkook, her mouth is—” you hollow your cheeks as you vacillate up and down, and Namjoon can no longer form words. His hands cup your face as he watches you worship him, oblivious to the words of praise Jungkook is saying.

“YN, fuck baby, your pussy is squeezing me so tight… You take my cock so well, better than I dreamed of.”

The spit that had gathered in your mouth dripped down and as you massaged Namjoon’s balls, the spit added to his pleasure. You felt them constrict in your hands, his cock twitching as your first warning.

“Baby, I—” you nod, knowing what he wants to say, and the action made him squeeze his whiskey colored eyes shut before he came, ropes of hot cum filling your mouth. Once he opened his eyes again, you made eye contact, pulling off of him and opening your mouth so Namjoon could see the translucent coating on your tongue before you swallowed it.

“Shit.”

His dilated pupils watched as you continued to use Jungkook to massage your g-spot, impaling yourself on him while you used a free hand to massage at your clit. Your third orgasm was a little harder to come by, not without a little help, so you told Jungkook what you needed.

“Choke me.”

You couldn’t see the way his doe eyes grew unimaginably wider as he maneuvered his right hand to grip your throat and apply just the right amount of pressure, allowing you to ascend towards climax. You fucked him harder, ass slapping against his thighs harshly. He released your throat, both hands firmly grasping your hips. A slap to your ass from Jungkook’s hand spurred your words.

“Cum in me Kookie, fill me like Joon did—”

“Ah, fuck, I’m cumm—”

When your walls fluttered, Jungkook groaned and immersed himself as deep into your dripping core as he could so he could fill you as you gushed your arousal around him, juices mingling as you collapsed onto the carpet, Jungkook’s softening dick slipping from inside you as he moved to lay next to you.

Panting, you rolled onto your back, head on Namjoon’s thigh as you waited for your breathing to settle. Jungkook was already smiling and looking none the worse for wear, physically. He moved to lay his head on your tummy, an arm thrown over your body while Namjoon’s hand smoothed the hair away from your face.

“I think that’s… 2 for me,” you say, “and 1 for each of you.”

Both men look at you in awe as you finish speaking, “...so what were you saying earlier about me being your ‘good girl’?”

♡

115 notes · View notes

writearctic · 3 years

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Ask Me Again - oneshot

⚤︎ badboy!felix and fem!reader

✔︎ fluff, hints of angst, semi suggestive

⌨︎ 4.9k

monnie's @ "To Your Heart"

hello! this is our first book of The Pasta Chronicles! i'm so glad @monscastle was able to collab with me; also shoutout to monnie for the lovely banner~ ♡

“Go out with me.”

Lee Felix, the campus bad boy, asked you out. Again. It was a weekly occurrence: him asking you; you saying no as politely as possible.

He never stuttered his words. Not the first time and certainly not today. “Go out with me, y/n. Please.”

It sounded like a plea for you. But his voice never wavered. It kept you in reality that he was a player, and you were an ideal student. Not the best but better than him.

“Felix, I’m sorry. I can’t. Not with exams coming up,” you replied with a soft smile while stepping past the boy. You were lucky to find a real enough excuse. He dug his heels into the cement path and followed you-- an action you couldn’t fail to notice.

“Gosh, he’s a real stickler, huh?” Your roommate, Lea, quietly reminded you.

“After exams, y/n.” Felix sped up to stand in front of you, stopping your pace altogether. “I’ll wait ‘til exams are over.” He leaned forward and pecked the sweetest, gentlest kiss on your temple. He smirked at your blushed reaction before skipping back to his crowd.

“Well, I guess he won’t bother you for a bit.” Lea started walking again.

You bit your lip, mind still focused on how warm, how sweet, his lips felt on your skin. It made your heartbeat quicken; the thought of his lips on yours sent a nice, tingly flow throughout your body.

“Y/n.”

‘H-huh?” Lea snapped you out of your daydream.

“He won’t bother you for a bit.” She hooked her arm with yours and happily continued to your next lecture. “Now, you can put 110% into your grades.”

“I’m glad,” you faked a smile. Lea endlessly went on about her thesis book. Her words served as white noise to you though.

Honestly, you liked Felix. There was no doubt about it. He was courteous towards his professors. It was rare for him to turn in an assignment, but he was studious in class and never interrupted the professors or classmates.

He was kind and respectful, despite his liaisons with countless ladies on campus. When they came and begged to date him, he was thoughtful with his words. He never said no, but he never said yes. A handful of guys would ask him out as well, but Felix stuck to his words. He had a rule. No getting together, no relationships. No romance. Just a quick fuck. And everyone knew this. “Having strings ties you down. And I don’t see myself tied with you,” he had said, in the lightest way possible.

You haven’t slept with him, yet you knew he held a fragile piece of your heart. He was your fantasy. A dream. Nothing more. But it never hurts to dream.

Your mind stopped wandering when Lea opened the lecture hall door. As you entered, you were met with hateful glares from the students.

“Y/n. Lea. I saved you a seat.” Jackson’s deep voice startled you. Lea shuffled the pair of you through the isle and to the row Jackson was sitting in.

“Gosh, what the heck was that for? Is there something on my face, y/n?” Lea worried.

“No, Lea. You look beautiful as ever.”

She beamed back at you.

“Look.” Jackson held up his phone, allowing Lea and you to watch an Instagram story. It was you. Specifically, Felix kissing your temple.

Lea sighed. Someone had filmed the “intimate” moment you had with Felix. You read the words at the bottom of the post: ‘Another whore for Lix?’

You deserved this. It was karma coming to get you for the thoughts you had of the boy. You mindlessly reached your fingertips to where he kissed your skin. Why was he even attracted to you? Were you a dare? A dare for him to get in your pants? You had your dignity, but you thought this boy was melting it away piece by piece.

You returned to your shared rental with Lea after class ended. At the apartment desk, the security guard stopped you. “Miss Y/n. A boy left this parcel for you.” He grumbled and handed you the gift.

You thanked him kindly and proceeded up the stairs.

“Open it.” Lea crossed her arms and demanded after removing her shoes and coat.

You walked to the kitchen and cut the package with a pair of scissors. You dug into it and found a bag of homemade cake pops.

“I’ll take one thank youuu,” Lea joked while tearing the plastic bag of goodies from your hands. You giggled, a way of granting her permission as you watched her slump on the couch. You stepped to discard the package when a note card fell to the ground reading: ‘I’m sorry, y/n. If I had known they were filming us, I would have kissed you on those rosebud lips of yours to let everyone know you’re mine.’

You released a voiceless whimper. Felix was surely playing you, but he made you feel special and desired none the less.

You quickly picked up the note and hid it in your back pocket.

It's been almost two weeks since Felix last asked you out. You had seen him around campus and longingly stared at him in hopes he would look at you. The few times your eyes caught his, Felix blushed and turned away. Now that he was respecting your boundaries, you didn’t want him to ignore you.

The sneers and occasional trash talks you received since the video of Felix’s delicate kiss to your head didn’t get under your skin. The few times they would, you couldn’t think much of them; you had more important matters to ponder about. You chewed on the painful distance between you and Felix habitually.

Studying wasn’t worth it. Your mind always trailed back to him. You wondered how he was. You hoped he was fairing better than you with his studies. You couldn’t help but miss his tranquil presence. Even if he was desperate for you, Felix had a calming aura that aroused you in the most loving way.

Aside from studying, you couldn’t get much sleep at night. Felix was awaking you every time you tried to clear your mind. He had engulfed and overpowered you into a longing for him.

You sat down in your class with a huff.

“Someone’s grumpy,” Jackson teased playfully.

Upon seeing your lifeless form, Lea hummed. “I think it’s ‘cause she slept in.”

You folded your arms on the desk and threw your head down. “I’m not going to do well on this,” you muttered.

Jackson and Lea exchanged looks. “Y/n, you studied-”

“Not really,” you admit to them. “My mind’s been… elsewhere.”

“Wha- why?” Jackson asked. “Is it Felix? You said he was leaving you alone, right? He’s not bothering you is he? I swear I’ll punch that hopeless romantic in the gut if you fail your exams.”

“Please don’t.” Your friends recognized the pitch in your voice; you were crying now.

Lea leaned towards the table and softly spoke. “Y/n, what happened?”

“I- I don’t know.” You shot up from hiding your face in your arms. Your puffy eyes were no stranger to the classmates around you as it was finals season. Lots of tears had fallen from multiple peers in the past week. Thankfully, they paid no mind to your tear-stained face and brushed it off as the stress that came with final exams.

“He’s doing things to my heart, and I can’t explain how hopeful I am that he’s not toying with me.” You reached for your pencil case and pulled out the letter Felix had written a few weeks earlier.

“Oh.” Lea’s reaction mirrored Jackson, whose mouth circled like an ‘o.’ They already suspected your feelings for him long before you had received the note.

“So, do I beat him to a pulp or…” Jackson joked, hoping to make you smile. But his efforts only resulted in his ribs getting elbow jabbed by Lea.

“I don’t know what to do.” Your voice was pulsing with desperate hope from your friends.

“Tell him ‘yes.’ Y/n, next time he asks you, and I’m sure there will be a next time, say ‘yes.’” Lea soothed your anxious mind with the natural honey in her tone. “The only thing you have to lose is your chance with your dream guy.” She winked and turned her gaze to the podium where the professor was introducing the exam.

Her words echoed in your mind. What did you have to lose other than Felix? Your dignity? No. If Felix is the right guy for you, he would strengthen your worth rather than hinder it. As you opened your laptop to the class page, you crossed your fingers, wishing Felix would ask you just once more.

Two days have passed since your last exam. Lea scored higher than you on your overall average. It made sense, and you easily accepted it. You spent hours of mindlessly studying the textbook while Lea actually studied. The two of you, along with Jackson, celebrated the success of your roommate with drinks.

“So,” Jackson began after the clink of your shots. “Has he asked you out yet?”

“No,” you frowned.

“Hey! I thought tonight was about me!” Lea laughed, trying to lift the mood so thick, you could cut it with the wimpy, plastic knives from your college cafeteria.

Jackson had only downed a shot or two; thus, he still was fully aware of his surroundings. So when he saw Felix stride through the local campus bar, he pinched Lea’s shoulder.

“Yah! What do you nee-” Jackson shushed her and guided her face towards Felix’s figure. They turned their attention back to the dim-lit table and met your curious gaze.

Jackson winked. “Don’t worry, y/n. He’ll come for you.” Both he and Lea stood up and walked to the bar for another round of drinks.

You stood up with your brow furrowed, but before you could follow them, you spotted Felix. He looked stunning in his ripped, leather pants and neatly combed hair. The green neon lights above fell on his sculpted face in the most angelic way. You admired him for a while until he moved to dance with a girl. 'With that skin tight dress of hers, how could he fight the urge to grind on her thin hips?' You thought, wishing you had worn something more than a long sleeved crop top and black jeans. Your gaze fell to the floor; you wore your ballet flats. They weren’t the most attractive, but at least they didn’t blister your feet.

You sighed and went after your friends. It had been 2 minutes at most, but you found Lea shamelessly twerking on a peer from her bio class and saw Jackson, long past sober, swiveling on a bar stool and mindlessly ranting to the man next to him about asparagus. The sex driven Lea and rhetorical thinker Jackson had made way out of hibernation. They were drunk.

You hustled to pay for your drinks and exited the crowd. It was cold outside, and you fell victim to the chill in your thin shirt. You didn’t want to flag down a taxi or call an Uber; at this time of night, riding alone with a stranger was not a pill you could swallow. Leaning against the building, you pulled open your contacts. Maybe your landlord would give you a ride home? Before your finger hit the call button, Felix called your name.

Waiting for exams to pass without hearing your voice or seeing your tender eyes up close was absolute hell for Felix. On occasion, he caught you looking at him. But as quickly as he saw you, you bashfully turned away. He kept his word and left you to your studies. Felix knew you cared about your education, and he was the last person who wanted to be in your way. So, he backed off at your excuse of exams.

After the last week of tests, final averages were posted near admissions. Felix eagerly raced to see how well you did. He knew by allowing you the space you needed to ace exams would easily grant you a high grade. But your name wasn’t in the top 100 list. He checked it once, twice, thrice before turning to the longer list of all student results.

Felix’s eyes were glued on the page; he memorized each printed name as he glossed over them looking for yours. When he found it, his head fell from his defeated shoulders. You didn’t do well. In fact, you did better last semester when he had bugged you to go out with him.

Something was wrong, yet he couldn’t understand.

Until he realized, you must’ve been tormented by his flock of admirers. He came to the conclusion that he would permanently give you space; the last thing he wanted was to bring pain to the girl he truly likes.

Felix tried avoiding you by taking different routes to class. If he did see you, he felt guilty and wished there was a way to protect you from the world.

He couldn’t keep you from gracefully invading his mind. Jisung, another playboy at campus, suggested “getting drunk or having sex with another bitch to remove that chick” from his mind. Felix’s nostrils flared when Jisung referred to you as a “chick” when you deserved much more than such a lowlife name. He nearly immobilized Jisung had his friends not stepped in and prevented Felix from further harming the boy.

Directly after throwing punches to his friend, he felt horrible. Felix sprinted away from his peer; it was ironic how he found himself in the campus bar. He downed no more than three shots. He didn’t want to forget you. Yet, his carnal instincts kicked in when Belle approached him.

She wore a mahogany, sheath dress that did wonders for his dry spell. Felix hadn’t been sleeping with anyone since he promised to ask you out after exams. He believed he needed to be faithful and better in order to make you his.

As she began to shake her rear against him, he placed his hands on Belle’s hips. 'Too skinny,' he thought. He would’ve preferred you.

It was like a higher being heard his plea because he saw you seated with your friends. The dim lighting made you look like a fever dream. He longed for you to be his. When he turned back to catch a look at you again, you were gone.

“E-excuse me,” Felix removed Belle’s body from his, but she clung to him like velcro.

She flicked her false lashes at him and grinned. “My place or yours?”

“I need to go.” He pushed her off a little more aggressively than he should and left without another word.

He found you outside, leaning against the club. Alone.

“Y/n!”

A wave of heat flashed through your body when your name fell from his tongue. You eagerly turned to him. Felix ran the short distance between you before urgently pressing his lips on yours.

The kiss was patient, yet you both could sense a deeper passion. Felix pulled your cold body against his and tightened his arms around your waist. Your fingers ruffled the bit of hair that touched the nape of his neck. He pulled his lips away; you quickly whined in protest, but Felix didn’t let you go.

He burrowed his face into your shoulder. You leaned to kiss his head, and he began whispering soft words against your skin causing you to shiver, this time, not from the cold temperature.

“Felix,” you whispered. “I- I can’t understand you.” You giggled breathlessly at him when his face moved back to yours.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? Felix, are you ok?”

“I- fuck. I love you, y/n. And I’m aware that we hardly know each other, but please. I want to learn every precious detail about you. Tell me your favorite way to pass the time on a rainy day. Tell me who taught you how to braid because gosh, when your hair is braided to the side, you make me want to rip out any gawking eyes that look at you. In fact, I won’t hesitate-”

“Felix.” Your voice was quiet. It was his first time hearing you so vulnerable, and it made him want to kiss every part of you. You deserved to be showered with kisses on a daily basis. But he traced his fingertips along the sleeves of your crop top and passionately listened to you.

“Ask me again.”

He smiled and raised a brow, puzzled. “Ask you what?”

You stared at him and fought the urge to kiss the small dimples on his face. You hadn’t noticed them before.

“Will you go out with me, Felix?”

“Fuck. No.” He cursed under his breath. His eyes turned to you when he felt you crumble in his hold. “Wait, shit. No, that’s not what I meant.”

You stepped back with tears brimming your radiant eyes, and it made Felix want to pull you back against him and never, never let you go.

“I wanted to ask you out!”

“You’re mad at me for asking you out!?”

“Yes!”

“Lee Felix, will you ask me out?”

“Y/n, please go out with me!?”

“Goodness yes.” You breathlessly whispered with no hesitation in your voice. He wasted not a second more before pulling you into his arms again. You tightly gripped his shirt; a few tears fell from your lashes. Felix felt them and released you from his embrace. He raised his hands and carefully wiped away every tear. He saw your lip quiver and observed how cold you were.

“Let me drive you home,” he quavered. Felix’s hand was warm in yours; his pinky tangled with yours as he led you to his car.

He knew where your place was. There weren’t many words spoken on the way to your apartment. Both of you were embarrassed and unsure about what to do next.

As he pulled to the building, he shifted to park and turned to you. “I want to take you out tomorrow.”

“I’d like that,” your voice was sunny. You inched closer to him and kissed his lips once more. It was quick, but it was everything you needed to know he was yours. “Good night, Felix.” You stepped out of the car and trudged to the apartment gate.

“Y/n!” Felix stood on the drivers side and yelled. “I need your number!”

You stopped punching the code for the gate to open. “Pick me up here tomorrow at six, and I’ll give it to you!” You playfully hollered back.

“I’ll be here,” he whispered, watching your figure walk through the gates.

“Oh. Em. Gee. Wow! I’m so glad you got him, y/n!” Lea cheered when she finally had some conscience. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, uhm, I’m not sure.” You realized the issue. Not having his number made choosing the perfect outfit harder. 'Shouldn’t have played hard to get,' you thought.

“Knowing him,” Lea stepped for your closet. “He’ll probably take you somewhere nice. Like a concert, fancy restaurant, or art exhibit. Since he’s head over heels in love with you.” She pulled a black velvet dress off its hanger and handed it to you. “Oh! Here.” She tossed you some sheer, black tights as well.

“I hope you’re right,” you giggled and went to change.

Lea adored the gown and begged to straighten your hair; she thought it looked best with your outfit. Once straight, she tied your hair into a low ponytail. She picked some dangly earrings for you to wear in addition to a silver bracelet. You felt like an actress being prepped for a scene. Lea was definitely the stylist between the two of you.

Your roommate stood by the window as it was nearing 6:00. You sat nervously on the couch, praying your outfit was right.

“He’s here.”

With a shaky sigh, you slipped on your shoes and went to the door. “Wish me luck.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, y/n. You’ve made an impression of Felix, one so strong he’s stopped sleeping around.” She walked over to straighten the collar of your coat before continuing. “Plus, if anything does happen-- but I highly doubt he’ll be a jerk to you-- remember, Jackson’s offer to beat him up still stands.”

You giggled in unison before hugging her and heading past the threshold.

What a sight you were. As you stepped out the apartment gates, his breath hitched. You bloomed in the evening fog. He hustled to the passenger door and eagerly opened it for you.

You paused before getting in. “Does my outfit fit the occasion?” You asked nervously.

“Yes; it’s perfect.” He charmed.

Felix drove away. His car was warm, and it calmed your nerves. You kept stealing glances at his profile, noticing the kisses of the sun on his cheeks and nose. His lips were highly alluring and since last night, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him again.

The ride was quiet. Felix played some soft r&b music in the background. At every traffic light, he turned to you and took your hand in his. He raised it to his lips and kissed the back of your hand; his eyes remained locked with yours, causing you to buzz with delight.

“We’re here.”

He shifted to park before stepping to your side and opening the door. You stood on the curb and admired the restaurant while Felix paid the parking meter. Dilettante was one of the finest restaurants in town. You had never been; it was far too expensive. The thought puddled in your stomach. Felix brought you to a highly exquisite restaurant on the first date.

“Felix.”

He hummed. Finished with the meter, he latched your arm with his and strolled to the building. “Yes?”

“This is expensive. Are you sure we should eat here? We can always go to Olive Garden or-”

“Y/n.” Felix paused and slipped his hand in yours. “This is the only place you deserve for a first date.”

Your cheeks darkened at his comment when he started up to the door. “Mia, your finest table please," he winked. The receptionist led you to a candle lit corner booth. She placed the menus on the surface: “Your server will be here shortly.” Mia return the wink and strolled back to the front.

Felix obviously knew the girl. You removed your oatmeal coat and sat down. Felix sat across from you. You leaned in and whispered, “Have you slept with her?”

He laughed. He laughed at you. You chuckled nervously, unsure of why you were laughing. “Mia’s my cousin.”

Shoot.

“Your cousin?”

“Hmm,” he glanced down and played with his wrist watch. “My family owns this restaurant.” You were not expecting that. “We get to eat here for free-”

“So, I’m a free meal?”

“What? No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” His head snapped up when you spoke. His hands reached across the table and held to yours. “I’ve actually never brought a girl here.” He mumbled while his thumb caressed your skin.

“I wasn’t even expecting the meal to be free-- I mean, I was expecting a discount, but I think my family is excited for me to finally stop sleeping around and bring someone here.”

You nodded in understanding. Your hands played with his. “Felix, you said you didn’t want to be tied down…”

“That was before I met you.” That smile of his could light up the entire restaurant.

You didn’t get to respond right away; a server came and took your drink order. He placed a basket of fresh bread on the surface and slid a platter of sweet butter alongside. You both ordered water and the server returned quickly with your drinks in hand.

“Have you decided on something to order?”

“Gosh, you’ve hardly given us time to decide, Kang.” Felix sneered and rolled his eyes.

“Right, yes. Of course. Sorry, sir.” The boy, around your age if not younger, fearfully backed away. Felix hung his head in shame when the server scurried away.

You held his hands in your; you stopped playing with them and held them still. “Lix-”

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t have snapped at him.” He raised his gaze to yours. He shuffled closer to you-- the booth made it easy for him to melt at your side so quickly-- and linked his fingers in yours once more. He tucked a wisp of hair behind your ear and kissed your neck. “I just want tonight to be perfect,” Felix breathed into your skin before sitting upright again.

You didn’t know what to say. He kept leaving you breathless; you could hear your heart pounding louder now that he was closer to you. And when his palm slid to your thigh in a non-sensual way, you prayed he wouldn’t hear how harshly your heart pounded against your rib cage.

"This isn't the best table here," he commented upon seeing your flustered state.

"We don't need to move tables. This is fine," you assured.

"I made sure Mia reserved this table. It wasn't hard; no likes sitting in the back corner anyways. But I like it here. I can kiss you without any bothersome stares."

Felix reached for a piece of bread and spread some butter on it before passing it to you. 'What a gentlemen,' you reminded yourself for the nth time this evening.

You took a sip of water after finishing the dough and spoke, “What’s the best meal here?”

“The alfredo.” He didn’t hesitate at all, and he reached for the menu to show you the different options. “My favorite is the regular chicken, but they're all decent.”

“I’ll have a chicken fettuccine alfredo then,” you giggled and swiped a hair out of his eye.

The things you did to him caused red to tickle his cheeks.

A different waiter came back and took your order. Felix explained the kid who previously served you was a distant, younger cousin and that they weren’t on the best of terms. You didn’t pry.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

Felix bit his lip gently before continuing, “What happened to your finals?”

“Oh, that.” You laughed deeply.

“Were there more posts like the one on Instagram or have people been bothering you?”

“No. Well, only you.” You smiled, and when you saw his clueless face, you added: “I couldn’t really study because I kept thinking of you.”

“I’m glad it was because of me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if students had been hurting you,” he admitted and leaned a little closer to your warmth, blushing.

He watched as you tried to refold the cloth napkin into its original swan origami. And when he took his and instantly folded it back, an engaging conversation about origami fortune tellers and puppets took place. Apparently, Felix was in his 5th grade talent show with a few of his buddies. They put on a Star Wars puppet show made with construction paper. The talent show gave no winners, but Felix was certain they would’ve won.

“Who would’ve known you, the mysterious campus bad boy, was into arts and crafts,” you giggled delicately at him.

“Am I still a bad boy in your eyes?”

“No!” Your response was swifter than intended. “Sorry that was a poor choice of words. You were the campus bad boy, but now you’re all mine.” You pressed against his torso and kissed his lips.

“You changed me, y/n.” Felix began and paused his words when the plates of pasta arrived. “I found myself desperate for you. So desperate. I couldn’t imagine being with anyone but you. I stopped jumping from bed to bed a while ago; I hoped it would prove myself to you. Because y/n, I want to be tied down with you for the rest of my life.”

It occurred to him that you hadn’t stopped looking at him since he began speaking. You hadn’t even touched your plate yet.

“Stop staring at me,” he blushed.

You moved your eyes to the cuisine and twirled the pasta. “I’m so in love with you I don’t think that’s possible.”

Felix’s fork clinked onto the ceramic plate. He faced you and met your gaze.

“Wait, was that too soon? I didn’t mean to offend-”

You couldn’t finish your apology with his breath dangerously close to your lips. “I love you, too.”

His lips were creamy and warm when they pressed into yours; they tasted like alfredo sauce. His pinky maneuvered its way to lock with yours while the other hand pulled you deeper into the kiss. He moved away after ensuring your pinky finger was connected with his.

Felix admired how dazed you looked after just one kiss. He didn’t notice it last night, but then again, that was the first kiss you had shared together. You opened your doe eyes at him, and he smirked.

“I’ll kiss you later. Eat your food.” He bent over his plate and continued to eat. You did the same. “How does it taste?” Felix asked, confident it would meet your expectations.

“It’s delicious,” you faced to him and smiled. Your pinky gave his a loving squeeze. “But…”

His eyes widened slightly. “But…?”

“The sauce tasted better on your lips.”

You pivoted back to your dish; you tucked that stray hair back behind your ear and bit your lips.

Felix looked down at his plate and pierced his lips together as he grinned. “You really are perfect,” he breathed, before twirling another spoonful of pasta into his mouth.

“Do you know how to make this?” You confidently inquired.

“I do,” he hummed.

“This is the best fettuccine alfredo I’ve ever had, and having a boyfriend who can make it-- you’re truly the love of my life.” Although you said it in a teasing way, you meant it, and Felix knew you meant it.

Despite not knowing each other for long, being in his presence made you feel loved and safe. And Felix vowed to do just that.

#kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kpop fic #stray kids #stray kids felix #skz felix #stray kids scenarios #the pasta chronicles

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beenjen · 3 years

Text

Glorious winter solstice practice last night with my favorite far out there teacher ever. She’s so out there that it is endearing. Sincerely. It was epic just catching up with her, even via zoom. She just wrapped her 300 hour and I my 200 hour and we were excited to gab about that.

The practice was invigorating and intense. Nailed figure four into flying pigeon (photo for explanation) -

And it was very empowering. Exactly what I needed. Mentally, lately, shit is wearing me down you know? And that is what the winter solstice is all about.

Now it’s time to honor the rebirth of the sun, to remember the light in the darkest part of the season, with the hope of good things to come, and the promise of a renewed life.

But enough of my own far out yeah?

1) I did not get in heavy workouts this weekend. I know, I know, I said 5 days a week, and I said that maybe on Friday, and I already didn’t hold up to it.... er.... see, what had happened was.... that.... life. I’ll try again tomorrow.

***I have eaten on point though 💪🏼 and gotten in my water!

2) celebrated my incredible support staff at work, mainly my scheduler and nurse. They keep shit flowing constantly and field a lot of drama for me. Myself and my doc that runs the clinic with me, went in to do something small for them to thank them and let them know we appreciate them-

And I brought in lunch of a veggie platter and lasagna. Turned out nice and I had watched them closely the past couple months and picked out their fav k cups, lotion and a couple other goodies for it to be personalized.

Not the best pic, I did get out for a couple miles on my lunch today though, even with my CRAZY BUSY BEFORE THE HOLIDAY clinic schedule.

4) other pictures that just sum up the life -

One more full working day and I’ll be off until the overtime I agreed to that I already regret 😂😂😂

Fingers crossed the winter solstice really does usher in brighter times for us all xx

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notyetneedcoffee · 5 years

Text

Soul Seer Pt. 2

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: None this Chapter, but later

Author’s Note: Takes place right after Avengers 1, with time travel elements and hints of Infinity Wars. Does NOT follow cannon after Avengers.

* * *

The gentle caress of cool fingers against the back of your neck pulled you from a thick sleep full of dark images. You jerked upright, realizing you’d fallen dozed off at the table with your head on your crossed arms. Tony looked pissed. Rogers frowned and chewed his lower lip. Loki, on the other hand, looked on with worry while he rubbed your back.

“Sorry.” You tried to rub away the grogginess.

“She’s mentally exhausted. Allow me to put her into a dreamless sleep, then we may continue.”

“I think you’ve riffled around in her head enough, Loki.” Natasha grumbled.

“I just need a nap.”

“Her sleep will not be restorative, or peaceful, while her subconscious processes what she found in my mind. (Y/N) needs the dreamless sleep.” Loki insisted.

“Is that like an induced coma?” Rogers asked.

“No. She may wake as normal.”

“I don’t think so.” Tony shook his head. “(Y/N), I’ll have you taken to one of the guest rooms so you can sleep it off, but I you’re not cleared to go back to your apartment yet. You stay under guard for now.”

You were too tired to argue, and nodded. Loki, however, wasn’t so keen to be separated. “How about we move this entire gathering to one of your meeting rooms upstairs? There’s more space. (Y/N) could sleep on one of the sofas and you would have access to your precious AI through more than your phone.”

After a bit of negotiation, the entire band moved to a large conference room adjacent to the 74th story labs. It provided plenty of space, only one door and quarantine capabilities. Natasha, ever the practical one, also made sure food would be brought in.

You, however, didn’t last long enough to enjoy the shawarma take out.

Stark and Banner worked furiously at the wall interface as Loki briefed the group on the alien threat. Thor filled in a few blanks, sharing what knowledge he could that had reached the Asgardians. Widow and Hawkeye listening intently from the back wall, both uncomfortable and tense.

Loki paused and Stark took the opportunity to take several large bites of food. However, he only stopped talking because a tiny keening noises drew his attention. Cap was already turned toward the sofa. “She’s been balled up like that for a while now.”

“Allow me to stop the nightmares.” Loki insisted again.

“Stay the hell out of anyone else’s mind.” Barton grumbled.

“She’ll be okay.” Cap nodded, but he failed to sound convincing.

Loki continued his briefing, however his eyes remained on you. When your scream tore through the room, he was the only one not to jump. He moved so fast, no one could have stopped him. Loki gathered your thrashing, wailing form into his arms. Cool magic began to quiet the tremors in your limbs and reduce your cries.

The others lurched forward. Thor shouted “No!” At the same time, Loki hissed “stay back!”

He held you possessively, protectively, and snarled at the others with intense and violent intention should they attempt to separate you. A jolt of recognition hit Thor and he moved between his brother and his friends.

“Let him help her.”

“Thor!”

“I’m not standing here while he turns her mind to mush!” Tony barked, crowding the Thunder God.

“Come closer and I’ll show you what I can do, bindings or not.” Loki’s voice was murderous, but his hand soothed your sleeping form with infinite gentleness.

Your breath became calm, slow and deep. Loki lounged back onto the sofa and you curled close to him, resting your head low on his chest and an arm thrown over his lap. He tucked a throw pillow under your chin, and you sighed. His bound hands petted your hair. He did not look up at the others when he spoke.

“I owe her a debt. One I do not know if I can ever repay. Therefore she is mine to take care of. I will not hurt her. But know this, I will destroy anyone who keeps me from taking care of what’s mine.”

“Sounds,” Banner paused. “Nuts.”

Loki looked up, half amused.

Thor cleared his throat. “Brother, I know you mean what you say. Though, I’ve not seen such – intense dedication – from you since Sleipner was a colt.”

“(Y/N) is not the same.” Loki rolled his eyes.

“Wasn’t Sleipner supposed to be one of your children?” Tony scoffed.

“Midgardian tales!” Thor threw his hands up. “No. He was an abandoned colt, eight-legged and skinny.”

“He was magnificent.” Loki grumbled.

“Father wanted to put him down immediately but Loki pleaded with Mother for his life. She intervened but Odin wouldn’t let any of the stable hands attend him. Loki had to do it himself. For a whole winter season, Sleipner struggled but Loki claimed him as his own assuring he prospered. By spring he was big and strong and faster than anyone had ever seen. Odin’s stable master dared to take a whip to Sleipner and Loki nearly beat the man to death. We were still children.”

“He turned out to be the strongest steed in Odin’s stables and the finest mount in Asgard.” A wistful smile touched Loki’s face. “The Allfather may have ridden him into battle, but he’ll always be mine.”

“And now you’re claiming (Y/N)?” Rogers scowled.

Loki did not answer, he only stared passively back.

You woke slowly, aware of the warm blanket tucked beneath your chin and the too tight clothes pinching in places. It also seemed as if something nasty crawled into your mouth and died. You tried to swallow the cotton mouth away. Opening your eyes, you quickly realized your were not where you fell asleep.

The bed faced a curtained window with a sliver of sunlight shining through. It was quiet, although you could hear large machinery far off in the distance. They must have moved you to a guest room. You felt better, a little like waking after taking a sleeping pill, but still rested.

You swallowed again and began to sit up.

“Where are you going?” The smooth rich voice surprised you. Loki leaned against the headboard, legs stretched out. In his unbound hands, he held a book.

“Bathroom.”

He tilted his head in acknowledgement and went back to his reading.

Once alone and business taken care of, you stared at yourself in the mirror. Physically, you felt fine. However, you most definitely did not feel the same. The vastness, the sheet volume of information, from Loki’s mind left you overwhelmed. You felt altered.

When you stepped from the bathroom, Loki’s eyes rose from his book. You stared at one another for a long while. You could see the concern in his eyes, beneath that, regret. With a sigh you returned to the bed, sitting crossed legged facing him.

“So, what are they going to do?”

“They seem to have taken the information I’ve given them on Thanos seriously.” Loki set the book aside.

“I should hope so,” You frowned. “The Black Order are terrifying.”

Loki leaned a little closer. “What do you remember from my mind? How much did you retain?”

You shook your head ruefully. “I’m not certain. A fair amount, I think. There’s stuff I am still trying to put in order. I remember the recent – pains. There are also memories of your youth, your studies, and trickery. You really love a wicked prank.”

He gave you a crooked smile, but it faded immediately.

“I think I know how to read Asgardian and Vanir,” You realize with awe. “And alchemical mathematics.”

Loki’s brow furrowed even more.

“Will this last?” You asked.

“As long as any natural memory might.” Loki stood and began to pace the room. “It’s no wonder such exhaustion over took you. It could have killed you. A millennium of experiences flooded into your mortal mind.” He stopped, staring at you with an unidentifiable expression. “Why would you do that?”

Your promise to Stark, to the other Stark, kept you from speaking. In all likelihood the room was being monitored, and you were not about to vary from your story. “I just knew that I had to.”

“I could have killed you.”

“You didn’t.”

The silence stretched. You could tell he wanted to say more, but the words either would not surface or he too did not want to say them where others may hear.

A rumble from your stomach announced how hungry you were. “So, are we locked in here? Or can we go find some food?” You chuckled.

“I’m afraid we are, indeed, still incarcerated by Stark’s people. I would not allow them to separate us in case you awoke with ill effects.” Loki came around and lowered himself to sit beside you. “I will have them bring food. Is there anything else you require? I should have asked sooner. Are you in any pain?”

“Not pain, no.” You looked backed into his piercing green eyes. “Why are you being so kind to me?”

You watched a myriad of emotions dance across his eyes, although his face remained passive. Finally, he closed his eyes, whispering “I must.”

With blinding speed, Loki moved to the door.

Ignoring the quiet conversation, you moved to the window. It didn’t open, and you wished you could breathe in some fresh air. Still, you could see movement around the city. New Yorkers were quick to organize and take care of business. As Loki’s reflection appeared in the glass, you lifted your eyes somewhat mournfully.

Your lips moved, and you breathed words not even to the volume of a whisper. “There’s so much to talk about, but we’re being watched. Aren’t we?”

His chin dipped in acknowledgement. “They will bring food for you in a few minutes.” He said in his normal voice. “Be patient.” His whisper tickled your ear.

Not much later the door opened and Tony Stark sauntered in with a tray. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I had them whip up a bit of everything.”

You took a seat in front of platter holding several plates; a bacon cheeseburger and fries, an omelet with a side of avocado toast, salmon on a bed of greens, and a piece of chocolate cake. A glass of juice, a bottle of sparkling water and bloody mary with enough goodies to be a meal finished off the tray.

“Wow.” You popped the green bean from the blood mary into your mouth. “Thanks.”

“Looks like you’ve behaved yourself.” Tony crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

Loki only shrugged. “I gave no indication I would do otherwise.”

“Except for throwing me out the window.”

The corner of Loki’s mouth twitched up. “Yes, there was that.”

“But” Stark rolled his eyes, “Your big bro keeps reminding me that was before-” he waved his hands randomly around “whatever this is.”

“Indeed.”

“Fury wants to lock you in body shackles and bury you under a hundred feet of concrete.” Tony scowled.

“I’m certain.” Loki slowly lowered himself to the chair opposite you, but remained facing Stark.

“Thor says you were under an outside influence.”

“That’s true.” You said before Loki could answer. He shot you a look, but you only took another bite of the omelet.

“Thor also says you’ve been known to cause some trouble.” Stark snagged a fry off the tray.

“It is my nature, after all.” Loki smiled and it carried an air of danger.

The fork paused halfway to your mouth, knowing that the enticing heat that wicked smile inflamed between your legs was probably not a healthy thing. Still, damn.

Tony cleared his throat and reached for your juice. “You gonna drink this?” You shook your head so he downed the glass. “Cap brought up a point that pissed the whole room off.”

“Truly? I have trouble imaging the good Captain angering his troops.” Loki tilted his head in mock shock.

“Imagine, he said, if we held Barton to what he did. Or if one of us fell under the same influence you had, would we be so quick to condemn?” The muscles in Tony’s jaw were working overtime. He even gripped the glass with white knuckles.

His feeling radiated off him in waves. He needed to be angry at Loki. Having him to blame was an imperative. Even the thought that somehow Loki was even partially a victim created such a storm of emotion in Stark that he was barely holding it together.

You placed your fork on the plate and dabbed your mouth with the napkin, moving slowly. Purposefully reaching for your calm center, you tried to project it towards Tony. “It would be so much easier if Loki were the purely maniacal villain. He’s right here, in your grasp. You could control the situation if that were the case.”

Loki opened his mouth, but paused and sat back.

Tony’s scowl hardened to the point of looking painful.

“I get it. Tony, you know that I mean it when I say that get what you’re feeling.” You sighed heavily. “But I’ve been in his head, and trust me, he’s a major pain the ass. Problem is…” the memory slid over you bringing bile to the back of your throat. “There’s someone way worse out there. Someone surrounded by evil. Loki is no choir boy. There’s centuries of troublemaking, but Loki is not evil. His nature, his own issues, were warped and amplified to turn him into a tool of destruction.”

You picked up the Bloody Mary and took a sip. “It would still be easier if you could just take out all your anger and pain out on him though, right?”

Tony barked out a bitter laugh. “Well the big guy got his turn.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed at you. “Are you attempting to help? I’m not certain I can tell.”

Both you and Tony laughed in earnest. It became a balm and you felt Tony begin to mentally unclench. Loki’s grumble of “happy you find me so amusing” inspired another round of giggles. By the time you turned back to your food, the emotions bouncing around the room felt far better.

“So,” You asked through half a mouth of food. “What’s going to happen to us?”

“That’s still being discussed. Loki is a question all on his own, but you managed to step in it when you went on the three hour cruise through his mind. You know too much now. We have to figure out what to do with you too.”

“I understand.”

“You’re being awfully calm about it all.” Tony’s brow arched.

“A little while ago I thought I would killed by aliens. Being held in a nice room, with pleasant company, and good food while any alternative other than death is being considered is a step up in my book.”

Loki smirked. “I am both admonished and flattered.”

“So you’re really okay?” Tony ignored him.

“No.” You answered honestly. “I’m not physically hurt or in danger. But I’m emotionally battered, and confused, and have things in my mind that I’m trying to sort out. There’s so much in my head right now, I’m really trying to stay focused on being present otherwise it would be overwhelming. I’m not sure how to deal with it.”

You felt the tears well in your eyes. “In all honesty, I would really like to have a thorough breakdown for a while, but I know we’re being watched.”

“(Y/N),” Tony crouched before you as a few tears escaped. “It’s totally normal…”

“Bullshit.” You bit off. “You telling me you would let S.H.I.E.L.D. watch you fall apart? You know as well as I do that all that video and audio would be used to claim I was unstable, or unreliable, or use it to commit me. So unless you want to turn the surveillance off, you can shove the sympathy up your ass.”

Loki scowled hard. Tony rocked back on his heels.

“You know I’m right.” You wiped away the tears, and turned back to the food even though all hunger was gone. “I get why you have to do it, Tony. I do.” You did not look at him again as he stood.

Loki got to his feet. “Are we done for now?”

“Yeah.”

The two of them moved to the door. Loki leaned a little closer and spoke quietly. “She will not be able to maintain for long. I assume by breakdown you mean a release of pent up emotions?”

Stark nodded.

“(Y/N) has absorbed a millennia of memories and emotion all at once. She needs my help to sort through them, but it will be…messy. Should she continue to lock down her mind as she is right now, it will break free in an uncontrolled and painful manner.”

Tony searched the God of Mischief’s eyes for sincerity. He nodded again and left.

#loki x reader #loki fic #loki fanfic

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mariequitecontrarie · 5 years

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Put Me In, Coach: Part 2

Summary: The Golds run into "Coach David" Nolan in the grocery store and Rumplestiltskin is seized by a bout of jealousy. A/N: Because I love jealous Rumple + Belle showing him how unreasonable he’s being. ;) Written for the June @a-monthly-rumbelling: "That's the least romantic thing you've ever said to me." Thanks to @galactic-pirates for listening to me drone on about baseball.

On AO3 | Part 1| Part 1 on Tumblr

“Well, Rumple, what do you think?”

Belle plopped two quarts of Maine blueberries down on the conveyor belt, sweet little purple globes that heralded the last weeks of summer. Tonight, Henry was having a sleepover with Gideon at their house and she wanted to attempt a homemade blueberry cobbler for dessert.

Blueberries, not apples, were Henry’s favorite fruit, a preference his mother Regina didn’t appreciate, but was a great source of amusement to the rest of the family.

Rumplestiltskin sighed heavily, pretending to be put out. “Sweetheart, if you want to bake, I’m here to coach you on to victory.” He grinned. “For better or worse, remember?”

She stuck out her tongue at him, making him chuckle.

On this go-round, he’d have to pitch in as more than just chief taste-tester if they wanted to avoid the oven fire they’d had the last time she baked.

His wife possessed many wonderful qualities, but kitchen skills were not among them. When they’d lived together in the Dark Castle, he used to hover in the kitchen doorway for the sheer pleasure of watching her burn everything from chicken to cakes to carrots. He’d developed a particular talent for rescuing her meals in the nick of time.

Once, she’d singed her fingertips in the fire and he was so furious with himself for allowing her to be hurt, he’d locked himself in his tower for the rest of the night. Belle had stormed up the stone staircase holding a tray of tea and cakes and banged on the door until he relented. That evening, she’d spent hours reading to him from one of her favorites while he crowded next to her on the settee, dutifully eating burned scones and turning pages to protect her injured hand.

Who said dark magic never amounted to anything good?

He deposited sacks of flour and sugar on the conveyor belt, as well as vanilla ice cream. Whether the icy treat would be topping for the cobbler or their alternate dessert remained to be seen.

“Oh, goodie, you remembered the one with the vanilla beans.” Her face shone with pleasure when he showed her the black carton. It was so easy to make her happy.

“Where’re Gideon and Henry?”

“Still in the candy aisle.” He shrugged. “I gave them permission to choose one item.” The register dinged as the cashier rang out the customer in line ahead of them.

“Hey, Belle, Gold.” David Nolan slid a bottle of milk and a carton of brown eggs into a shopping bag. We just got back from our week at the beach and I’m here for the necessities.”

Rumplestiltskin felt a stab of envy. The domestic errand did nothing to diminish Nolan’s masculinity. He was every inch the golden god, his tanned arm muscles straining against the confines of his short-sleeved polo shirt. He’d bet David Nolan never worried about how he looked in a pair of bathing trunks.

“Nolan.” Suddenly grouchy, he crossed his thin, pasty arms, safely encased beneath his many layers of Armani. He normally didn’t break a sweat, even in the deep August heat, but today perspiration prickled the back of his neck. He rested a warm hand on top of the ice cream to cool himself.

“Haven’t seen you since the Golden Nuggets team awards dinner at Tony’s,” David said. “How are you guys?”

“David, hi. Gideon’s around here somewhere.” Belle poked her head above the register endcap and scanned what she could see of the candy aisle. “He’s been working on his swing and I’m sure he’d like to show you.”

“His game has come a long way.” David flashed a proud smile. “But I’m in a hurry. Maybe I could stop by and give him some pointers next week?”

Rumplestiltskin scowled and drummed his fingers on top of the ice cream carton. He’d like to offer Nolan some pointers of his own. Like on how to take care of his own family and leave his alone.

“Mary Margaret’s waiting in the car, so I’ll get right to it,” David said. “Now that baseball season’s over, we’ve decided to charter a football program. Neal Junior is excited to play quarterback. Would Gideon be interested in joining the team?” David accepted his change from the cashier, and the conveyor belt whined as Belle and Gold’s small collection of groceries wobbled toward the register. “It’s tag, not tackle.”

Rumplestiltskin wondered if that was meant to be reassuring.

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Did the man need to coach every sport known to mankind? Perhaps Storybrooke needed tennis, golf, volleyball, and wrestling programs as well. And American football? It was a brute’s sport, and the Underworld would freeze over before he’d allow Gideon to play.

Belle hummed in consideration. “We were going to sign Gideon up for some indoor batting sessions, but we might introduce him to some other sports, depending. Rumple, what do you think?”

He couldn’t believe Belle was even entertaining the notion. “Why not take them down to Fortune’s Rocks for surfing lessons instead?” he suggested, clamping down on his back teeth.

Sarcasm hung in the air like fog and Nolan’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Fortune’s Rocks was an inlet a few miles down Storybrooke’s coast, a place where rough sea walls crashed sharply against enormous, craggy boulders. The locals knew Fortune’s waves were only for the most experienced, danger-loving surfers. Every summer, some poor unfortunate soul was injured or worse on its punishing rocks.

His wife pressed her lips into a thin white line. “Thanks for the offer, David,” she said. “We’ll get back to you.”

“No problem. Don’t wait too long, though. Practice starts next week.” Unflappable as ever, David exited the store with his groceries balanced on one arm, he free hand raised in a little wave.

Once the princeling had disappeared, Belle sighed. “What was that all about? I thought you liked David.”

“He’s tolerable.” Rumple huffed. “Tag or not, American football is too dangerous. A sport designed for those whose brains are in their biceps.” And for those who are strong and brave.

He crossed his arms again. He really needed to get into the backyard and work on his own tan. Somewhere in the bowels of the basement there was an old set of dumbbells. Perhaps he should start sneaking into the basement to lift weights instead of spending the wee hours spinning.

“It was only an offer, love. We could have politely said ‘no, thank you,’” Belle said.

He hated how measured and reasonable she was acting, but he couldn’t very well confess it was David’s handsome masculinity that had put him in such a foul temper. “He was certainly looking well after a week at the beach,” Gold allowed grudgingly.

“Yeah, he’s a hot ticket.” The elderly cashier, who had a shock of bright red hair and wore a nametag proclaiming her as Dora, jawed on a wad of bright pink bubble gum.

Ignoring Dora’s comment, Belle turned away from the groceries to run her hands up and down his chest. “It’s not a competition, Rumple. Not a fair one, at any rate.”

“True.” He was nothing special to look at. Bland as white toast and just as dry. He cracked jokes about being irresistible to women, but he recognized the truth as well as anyone else. People were attracted to his power. Only Belle had ever cared to peel back his layers to understand the quiet, fragile man beneath.

“I suppose David’s nice looking enough if boyish charm interests you.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Not me. I prefer a man with a leaner physique.”

Heat toasted Gold’s cheeks, making the cool grocery store feel like a sauna. “Sweetheart, that is the least romantic thing you’ve ever said to me,” he drawled, covering his surprise.

As usual, his wife had read him like one of her well-loved, careworn books. Sometimes her innocent sweetness stupefied him. Who in their right mind would prefer Rumplestiltskin to Prince Charming? Then again, his Belle had always been an unusual creature.

“You know what I mean.” She moved her nails along his collarbones in teasing scrapes, her breath a lascivious whisper against his neck. “Wiry. Distinguished. And incredibly sexy in my favorite paisley tie.”

“Indeed,” he managed around a gulp.

“Anyway,” Belle turned to Dora, still making a show of fixing his tie. “I don’t think David Nolan is the cheating type.”

The cashier was gaping, the sticky mess of bubble gum half hanging out of her mouth. Whether she was shocked by the way Belle was touching him or her directness regarding David Nolan’s lack of availability, Rumplestiltskin couldn’t be sure.

Gideon poked his head around Rumple’s side and Belle stepped back. “What are you guys talking about?” Their son heaved an enormous package of Skittles on the conveyor. “Cheating?”

Uh oh. A change in subject was desperately in order.

“Did you two commandeer the largest bag of candy in the store?” Gold reached down to ruffle Gideon’s curly hair and then reached up to do the same to Henry.

“This and blueberry cobbler with ice cream.” Henry’s grin was triumphant. “Only the best when I sleep over, right Grandpa?”

He couldn’t resist smiling back. When it came to these boys, he was a complete marshmallow. They all knew the candy and the ice cream were insurance policies in case Belle’s latest baking experiment went awry. “That’s right, m’boy.”

Dora rang up the enormous bag of candy with the rest of their order. “Your total is $14.47,” she said, two red spots coloring the centers of her cheeks.

“They’re talking about cheating,” Gideon told Henry. “Like at a game.”

Rumplestilstkin felt his lips twitch. “Who said anything about cheating?” He handed the cashier money for the groceries. He turned to Belle, hoping for help with Henry and Gideon, but she shook her head and smothered a giggle. Very well; he’d torture her with tickling later.

“You did,” Gideon reminded him.

A dog with a bone, Rumplestiltskin thought darkly.

“We didn’t mean that kind of cheating,” he said, then instantly regretted it. Why in the name of all the realms was he still talking?

“What other kind of cheating is there?” Gideon frowned.

Growing exasperated, Rumplestiltskin pinched the bridge of his nose. Their son’s dogged determination was a trait he’d inherited from both he and Belle. Today, it was not serving his father well. “There’s no cheating. No one is cheating.”

“Right, Grandpa.” Henry winked. “You mean this bit right here at the baseball games?” He wriggled his fingers and waggled his eyebrows.

Both boys blinked at him with feigned innocence. Gold was nonplussed. Why hadn’t it occurred to him that Henry might put the pieces together?

“Well, I…” For once the silver-tongued Rumplestiltskin was at a loss for words.

Faced those trusting expressions, mocking or otherwise, he found he couldn’t gloss over the truth.

He was caught.

Together they bagged their groceries in silence and stepped out into the sunshine. The late August breeze was a welcome refreshment to his heat-prickled skin.

“Relax, Papa.” Gideon ambled through the parking lot at his side, his long-suffering sigh far beyond his eight years. “I know all about you helping our team sometimes at the games. Everyone does. Even Coach David.”

Henry nodded in agreement.

“What?” It seemed his secret help was no secret after all.

“Whenever we needed to score, somebody would get a super awesome hit,” Gideon said. “Like Roland and me did in our last game.”

“Roland and I,” Belle interjected.

Oh, now she wanted to be part of the conversation. Mrs. Grammar Police!

Speechless, Rumplestiltskin studied the pavement as they began the two-block walk home. It seemed Neal was right after all. He was not as clever as he’d believed.

Gideon slipping his small hand into Rumplestiltskin’s larger one and squeezed his fingers. The childish comfort touch soothed his bruised ego.

“No worries.” Gideon clucked his tongue the way Belle did whenever their son awoke from a bad dream. “When I grow up you won’t have to help me anymore. I’ll be awesome at magic. But not better than you, Papa.”

“No, of course not.” He managed a weak smile. His body had continued moving down the street but he felt like his mind was still back on the sidewalk outside the store, slack-jawed and confused because Gideon wasn’t upset with him.

Although he and Belle had agreed never to discuss his cheating with Gideon, the lie had still bothered him. But he’d convinced himself that should Gideon ever learn the truth, the consequences would be catastrophic. Instead, his beloved boy was brushing off his interference as if it were nothing.

“You won’t need magic for baseball,” Belle said with motherly authority. “You’ll be able to win without any outside assistance.”

“Absolutely!” Henry looped his arm around Gideon’s neck and gave him a noogie until the younger boy howled with laughter and twisted out of reach. “Magic is a tool, not a crutch, right Grandpa?”

A lump formed in Rumplestiltskin’s throat. There was far too much compassion in his grandson’s knowing look, but even as a precocious ten-year-old, Henry’s wisdom and empathy had always been extraordinary. Rumple supposed being the son of two magical mothers made him uniquely qualified to mentor his much younger uncle Gideon.

“That’s right.” Rumplestiltskin cleared his throat, eager to move on to a lighter topic. His lips quirked and he looked at his wife. “Unless we’re cooking with your grandmother. Then we need to call on every spell in the book.”

“Henry agreed to call me Belle years ago,” she said with emphasis. Her eyes were alight with indignation but her lips were pursed with repressed humor. “As for you, there will be no blueberry cobbler!”

Rumplestiltskin gave a mock gasp and as their laughing and teasing continued, tension fell from his shoulders like scales. Arm-in-arm with his wife, he shook off the unwelcome weight and strolled past the baseball field feeling lighter than air.

Up ahead at the intersection, David’s truck trundled by, but the jealousy that had boiled up so quickly in the grocery store had evaporated, at least for the moment. Some insecurities would never die, but as he carried their groceries down the sun-soaked street and basked in the love, compassion, and laughter of his family, Rumplestiltskin was nothing but content.

###

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #a monthly rumbelling #rumplestiltskin x belle #rumbelle fluff #gold family fic #baseball fic #gideon gold #henry mills #mqc writes #put me in coach

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alexanderwrites · 7 years

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Thoughts Roundup - Twin Peaks: The Return, Part 7

“There’s a body, alright”

A note: From here on out, i’m going to be rounding up my thoughts on new episodes of Twin Peaks: The Return week by week. I wrote a review of the first two episodes, but given my love for the show and the complexity of the episodes, typical reviews might be tricky, and it’d be a lot more fun to write in a looser format. So, i’m going to bullet-point my thoughts, which I promise will get boring and erratic.

. I’m really glad to see Jerry Horne again. He’s always been a favourite of mine, and even if this is pretty much all he does this season (which I imagine it will be), that’s good enough for me. Interesting that he mentions his car being stolen - there seems to be a lot about stolen cars this season. Whether they’re linked or just a common theme is open for debate. Maybe Frost or Lynch got their car nicked around the time of writing the series.

. I absolutely adore Hawk having such a big part this series. It makes such logical sense that he’d have larger responsibilities within the department, and seeing him with the pages from Laura’s diary was immensely satisfying. The reference that Laura makes in the diary to the ‘dream’ she had of Annie is further reference to Fire: Walk With Me, which, if you haven’t seen it yet, is pretty much essential to this season so far.

. I found it really interesting that Truman wasn’t surprised or confused at the mention of Cooper being trapped in the Black Lodge. He didn’t even ask what it was, so i’m guessing this was a chat the folks in the department had with him when he took the job. “Oh, b-t-dubs, there’s a gateway to what might be hell in the woods. Ask your brother about it And always make another pot of coffee if you finish it off”. I also found Truman, who until now hadn’t done much for me, pretty moving in his scenes tonight. His expression during his call to his terminally ill brother (we miss you, Harry! Kind of!) was rendered painfully on Robert Forster’s face - and I was really moved to see Doc Hayward, even briefly. He’s so visibly frail and old, and seeing all these old (and I mean OLD) faces really hits home the passing of time. There’s an everyday tragedy and pain in seeing it, made particularly poignant that Warren Frost (and several other cast members) passed away not so long ago. I keep wanting the Log Lady to come in with words of beauty and comfort about time passing and the world changing, but i’m not sure we’ll see her again (the actress, Catherine Coulson, passed away in 2015). It’s both saying hello, and goodbye, and the acknowledgement this show has always had that everything must pass is deeply affecting. I wasn’t expecting this series to make me ruminate on the nature of life and death so much. Thanks, assholes.

Hayward talks about Cooper the morning he comes back from the Lodge - It’s so strange to hear the events of the morning that Cooper rammed his damn head into the mirror get discussed. It really drives home that the moment you’ve been thinking about for the past 2,000 years is getting some context and elucidation. It’s very, very cool.

. Sheriff Truman pulls a small log-shaped handle and a computer monitor emerges from his desk. If you have a better example of old Twin Peaks merging with the modern world, i’d like to see it. Then i’d like to install it in my house.

. Harold Smith, that sad flower dweeb from season 2, got a mention! Again, it’s odd hearing references to smaller plot points in the series, but then again Doug and Duane Milford got a lot of attention in The Secret History of Twin Peaks. Turns out Doug was a flying saucer chaser, and with the amount of words he gets in the book, i’d be surprised if he’s not even passingly mentioned this season.

. As well as not crying anymore, Andy has a new Rolex to go along with his new Michael Cera. I’m not sure where the story will go with the no-show guy who said he couldn’t talk to Andy, but I feel like its probably related to the drug story that seems to be running in the background.

. Laura Dern, we love you. All of us. Every last one. Even with the most difficult to please of viewers, I doubt there’ll be a single complaint about her because she is the fucking best. It’s interesting that Diane’s so seemingly broken, leading us to wonder why - there were never really any clues about her personality, but you get the feeling that she was friendly, from the mere fact that Cooper talked to her via tapes so kindly and openly. So what happened? Bad Coop happened, is what.

. I was pleasantly surprised at how swiftly the plot developed in this episode - right after agreeing to meet Doppelcoop, they’re jetting off to see him. If this had been a few episodes earlier, it might’ve taken a while for them to get to it, but this episode knocked it out pretty efficiently. I didn’t think the show was too slow before, but it is a nice change of pace to get an episode with so much development.

. The windows on the jet disappear and reappear, right? I mean, I rewound that several times and they surely do. It’s not the light hitting them funny - they flash. I’m sure of it.

. Tammy hasn’t been given too much screentime yet, despite doing fairly important work - even though it seems Gordon has already sussed out the tasks she undertakes. He seems to be testing her abilities, which is why he assigns her to take over the research of the dossier, which makes up The Secret History of Twin Peaks. The scene where Gordon touches her fingers and says “I’m very, very happy to see you again, old friend” is funny, weird and ingenious. Gordon feels a lot like Cooper, but then, he always has. With his love of food, nature and coffee, and being filled with an affinity for everything, Gordon is an older Cooper and I hope he gets to see his old friend again.

. Dern’s performance when she meets Doppelcooper is phenomenal and all registered in her fearful expression. It’s a gorgeously framed scene, with her head floating in the darkness of the room, looking at the man who is Not Her Friend. Her reference to that night is certainly ominous, but it did cross my mind that she was feeding him false information to see if he’d take it. Her reaction in the car park afterwards seems to suggest that it was true, though. Everyone seems to be in pain both from the absence of Cooper and from the presence of Doppelcooper. And it leads you to wonder again: what the fuck has Doppelcooper been up to these 25 years? And once again - both kudos and screw you to Kyle MacLachlan for being so utterly brilliant and frightening as Doppelcooper, especially in this prison scenes, where his voice seems to be slowed to a possessed and deep slur. This new season keeps offering up the chance to use such weird sentences: Kyle MacLachlan is terrifying and Matthew Lillard is scene stealing.

. Of course the body was Garland Briggs. It had to be. Or did it? Who knows! It’s decades younger than it should be, and Briggs supposedly died in a fire a long time ago. We know he was taken by one of the lodges back in season 2, and has experienced the white lodge. We might wonder that if, after that, he gained some sort of...power? How else was his head floating in space those episodes back? And again with the bodiless heads! The nightmare bastard roaming the halls in this episode is the same ghoul whose head floated away in the first episode, and Josie Packard’s headless (or faceless, at least) body was, in an original script, supposed to be seen in a black lodge scene. People losing their heads seems to be a common theme again. Would it have been too on the nose, and i might add, awful, if Where’s Your Head At? had played in the morgue scene? It’s hard to be on the nose when you haven’t got a head! Wahey!

. This episode is very light on Cooper (i’m not going to call him DougieCooper because he’s not Dougie! He just wears his bad clothes sometimes!), but he came along almost as soon as I thought “Hey, where’s Coop?”. Naomi Watts kills it again with her impatient anger, and I love that she’s written as someone at her wit’s end (or should that be Watt’s end? Nope, it shouldn’t) but that still cares for her dumbass husband. And then we get maybe our clearest answer that Coop is still Coop: he kicks a bit of ass. It’s a very satisfying and well choreographed fight, and the Arm popping up to give fight advice was kinda cool and kinda funny. It seems that the lodge dwellers, or at least some of them, are helping Coop. Mike, The giant, and the Arm have all advised him, and seemingly given him some special insights. I think they want Cooper alive so he can, to paraphrase GOB Bluth, return Doppelcoop from whence he came. He was due back in, as that call in episode 1 told him, so maybe the lodge spirits are getting utterly fed up on waiting on his ass. They’re letting Coop live so he can go and sort it out. It has been 25 years after all. Stop hogging Bob, bro.

. Some interesting stylistic choices in the news coverage scenes after the fight which felt like they were from another show, but I kinda dug it anyway. Will someone in Twin Peaks see Cooper in the news footage and put two and two together? I’m not in a massive rush for Cooper to wake up - but it will be spectacularly rewarding once he does.

. Is Josie haunting the hotel? Last we saw her, she was trapped in a doorknob, and Pete (we miss you Pete! Really!) was seeing her face above the fireplace (the nonchalance of that moment always really freaked me out), and now there is a sourceless humming sound throughout the hotel, which kind of sounds like the mystical ringing sound that we hear whenever The Giant rocks up. It really is happening again, isn’t it? Great to see more Ben, though his P sounds are less Plosive than they used to be, and he hasn’t eaten ANYTHING yet. But he’s still a lot of fun to watch, and i’m hoping - because i’m a softie who likes goodies - that his humanitarianism lasted. And i’m also beginning to think - with all the references to Audrey’s condition after the bank blast (bank blast sounds like shitty video game) - that Audrey will have been physically effected long term by what happened. I’m beginning to really look forward to seeing her, though I dread the idea that Doppelcoop is the father of her awful bastard son.

. It’s so uncannily Lynchian to drop in on someone like Beverly’s life, someone who we know next to nothing about, and give her a fairly substantial scene. It even feels like it might not go much further than that, and that dropping into her soap opera life (Twin Peaks’ soapiness is still there!) for this scene is just Lynch giving us a little look at domestic turmoil in Twin Peaks. But who knows. Who knows which characters are a one-scene deal, and which will fit into the larger narrative. Where is goddamn MATTHEW LILLARD???

. Jacques Renault’s identical brother(?) got some lines! And surprise surprise: he’s a scumbag! The sweeping scene was weirdly engrossing, especially with Green Onions playing in the background. And my god, how warm and cosy did the Double R look tonight?? With Sleepwalk by Santo & Johnny playing, and the lighting as warm and oak-tinted as ever, it’s maybe the one place in Twin Peaks you’d want to hang out. Especially with lovely, lovely Shelly and Norma working there. They’re such likeable and instantly welcoming people to see, and it’s hard not to wish they were your friends. And, I don’t like to focus too much on how the actors look - but Madchen Amick literally has not aged a day and it’s very confusing how she’s managed that. I guess there is something special in Norma’s family pie recipe. Also, i’ve heard people say the guy who pops his head in asks if anyone has seen “Bing”, but on re-listening, it’s 100% Billy and not Bing. There is someone named Bing in the credits - whether he’s any relative of Chandler’s is present is yet to be seen. It could be something, or it could be another version of that “It’s a boy? It’s a boy! It’s a boy!” bank security guy from Season 2. Just someone yelling some dumb shit.

. Some great music in this episode too, both new score and old. With the ominous shots of the foggy woods set to the opening notes of Laura Palmer’s theme playing (the scary bit, not the sad bit) I genuinely got chills.

. Doppelcoop is on the loose and you can feel the story pushing forward now he’s out. I get the feeling we won’t see the Prison Warden again, and that everything they talked about has a backstory but one that is not necessarily important for us to learn about. Just know that Doppelcoop is loose, and where he goes now is an open question. To kill Cooper? How could you kill a man your exact double? It’d be so surreal. And would make for a weird, bad-wig-wearing stunt double fight scene. And the idea of unawake Cooper being hurt makes me even sadder than the idea of Lucid Cooper being hurt, somehow. He’s a sympathetic thing really, and he needs someone outside the black lodge to help him. He’s called for help though, and either Gordon or Hawk are on his trail, thankfully.

SUMMARY

This episode, more than any other yet, felt like Twin Peaks of old. We spent more time in the town, and the atmospherics of the town felt more prevalent too. It does feel like we’re being eased back into the town which is great fun, though I love everything set outside too. A narrative cohesion is coming about as the story’s 2nd act clicks into place, and there’s some real momentum going in this hour. Whether or not that keeps going next week (I think it will), i’m happy to let the show do its thing because this episode has shown that patience does pay off. We will get there, and we should probably learn to enjoy the journey as much as the destination. Remember, Lynch and Frost have pretty big hard-ons for Mysteries, and that always has been, and always will be the core of the series. But goddamn it if it isn’t fun seeing that mystery chipped away at in tonight’s episode.

“Keep working the sunny side of the river, doc”

#twin peaks #twin peaks spoilers #dale cooper #review #television #writing #david lynch

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pumpkins-s · 7 years

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Spilling Like An Overflowing Sink

Read on AO3 Here

Read the Other Chapters on Tumblr Here

Lance Alexander Rafael McClain is born in the middle of a summer storm, thunder cracking and rain slamming onto the roof of an old ramshackle house that had seen more than its fair share of children.

The miracle baby, that’s what the family had called Lance. The unexpected son to a mother of five daughters.

(In which family is always complicated, Lance’s life hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows, and he and Keith are really emotionally constipated for each other.)

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Relationships: Keith/Lance, significant platonic Lance & Hunk

Characters: Lance, Lance’s family, Hunk, Keith, Shiro, Pidge, Allura, Coran

Chapter 8: Longings

(( Author’s Note:

(kicks down door) Greetings, I'm back.

Apologies for being away from this fic so long. It's been a weird few months for me with a lot of personal stuff going on (If you follow me on social media I'm sure you witnessed the fallout of my breakup with my near year-long partner, for one), and that in addition to the Large amount of discourse in the fandom that sprung up after season 2, particularly surrounding Lance content, made me too nervous to update for a long time.

It took a while, but I eventually remembered that I started this fic for me, because it makes me happy, and letting the pressures of how long an update was or worrying over people's demands for when Keith would arrive was only hurting me, and my ability to write the fic.

So new rule. I'm doing this at my pace, Keith will get here when he gets here. End of story.

Now, before we begin, a couple things:

I'm incredibly honored and delighted to present to you all the finished version of Peachlance's fanart for this fic, which if you remember I linked the WIP sketch to a couple chapters back. You can check out their gorgeous art of Lance & Hunk here on tumblr, or here on twitter.

Also! I'm still not an artist in the slightest, but for those of y'all desiring them, here's some rough references for Mavis and Ritzie & Yuu I did a few months ago.

That's it. Have fun, bye. ))

Mavis’s apartment is a tiny thing on the thirteenth floor of a crumbling old residential building wedged between two larger, shinier new buildings, the few small windows in her apartment providing absolutely stunning views of her fire escape and the wall of the building outside.

It’s tiny, jam-packed, and bordering on claustrophobic, with its singular bedroom, living room, kitchenette, and bathroom all crammed together into one small unit. As a whole, it’s considerably smaller than Lance’s home, even if he is used to sharing that space with a hoard of other people, and arguably he’s pretty sure Mavis’s bedroom is actually slightly smaller than his and Hunk’s dorm room at Greenwood, which is saying something, given that’s not exactly a large space either.

Lance loves it instantly.

The first time he sees the apartment, an exhaustingly long thirty minute subway ride involving three train changes away from the airport, Mavis kicks the door open with otherwise little fanfare, dumping Lance’s suitcase by the door and straightening up.

“Welcome to city living! Mi casa es tu casa.”

Lance snorts, eyes roaming over the mess of dirty dishes in the sink, the unfolded pile of laundry on the coffee table, the assortment of books and music sheets on the kitchen counter. “Tu casa es un desastre.”

“Hush.” Mavis says, pointing a finger at him. “You try being an adult capable of clean, organized living these days. It’s hard.”

“You’re twenty-five.” Lance deadpans, and Mavis sniffs, flipping her hair and crossing her arms, pouting.

“Don’t remind me. I already feel old.” She claps her hands, grabbing Lance��s bag again and swinging it over her shoulder easily as if it isn’t heavily packed with everything Lance needs to survive here for three and a half weeks. “C’mon, let’s get you settled. You’re lucky I bought a bed that has one of those second mattress pullout trundle things in case one of my brothers or Evie ever came to stay or something.”

“Goodie.” Lance mutters, and Mavis smirks back at him, nudging the bedroom door open just as her phone goes off. Pulling it out of her pocket, she glances at the number and winces. “Work. I need to take this.” Swinging Lance’s bag off her shoulder, she turns and bodily chucks it at the trundle bed, sending it flying onto it with a loud crash that leaves Lance wincing and pitying his cousin’s neighbors. “Go ahead and get settled while I’m on the phone, if you want. There’s some toiletries and spare clothes I picked up just in case, since I wasn’t sure if you packed enough given I do the laundry like… once a month.”

“Gross.” Mavis snorts, and nudges him into the room, pulling the door shut behind her as she turns back to the living room, answering her call with a muffled, yet distinctly blunt “What.”, obviously none-to-pleased with whomever is calling her on her day off.

Sighing, Lance shuffles his way over to the trundle bed, nudging his suitcase over to a corner as best he can and then flopping down, savoring being able to stretch out properly after hours of being crammed on first a plane and then the subway. He may be smaller than an adult, or even, admittedly, small for his age, but that doesn’t mean he appreciates being shoved into tight spaces for extended periods of time any more than the next person.

Rubbing at his eyes, he sits up and turns to the small pile of clothes and what looks like a spare toothbrush and face-wash, among other things, resting on the pillow. He moves the toiletries without much thought, idly inspecting the label on the face-wash and happily noting it’s a brand he’s used before, but when he turns to the clothes he hesitates, looking at the shirt resting on top properly for the first time and noting a… small problem.

It’s pink.

A bright, searing pink, small flowers patterned along the collar and lace for sleeves.

Hands shaking, he grabs the fabric and carefully lifts it up, eyes roaming over the distinctly feminine cut and color of the shirt with a kind of displaced horror, offset by the hesitant want he feels just from looking.

The shirt is exactly the kind of thing he would have picked out, a year and a lifetime ago. On instinct, he holds it to his nose, and it smells… not like what he remembers when he thinks of clothing like this, of Loraine’s shampoo and his mother’s laundry detergent, but it does smell somewhat like Mavis, like the subtle scent of her leather jacket and her apartment, and that is… not right, but not wrong either.

God though, that doesn’t take the edge off the wanting, even noting these minute differences between his memories of the life he craves and his reality. If anything, knowing it’s real, here and presented in this space where he is relatively free of the consequences of such choices, makes the whole thing worse.

Almost idly, hands gripping light fabric, he thinks of a story his Aunt Rosa had told him once as a child, an old Greek myth from one of her well-worn books about a king who was punished for his transgressions in the afterlife by being placed on an island surrounded by water and with fruit trees growing on it, but could not eat or drink, no matter how much he hungered or thirsted, for eternity.

That is what this is like, he thinks. It’s placing cursed salvation in front of a starving person and watching them crawl desperately towards it.

He wants so badly, and yet to have it is akin to taking fruit from the poisoned tree.

Jerking slightly, Lance drops the shirt with shaking hands, as if it might scald him. From the kitchen, Mavis’s voice, raising in volume as she argues with whoever is on the other end of the line, drifts through, pulling him back to reality.

Mavis… right.

Assumedly, this is her doing, then.

Hesitantly, he turns to the remaining pile of clothing, eyes falling to a now more than obvious assortment of bright patterns and cheerful designs, a veritable ball of doom. Reaching out, both hands grasping unsurely, he rifles through it, overly-short cut fingernails, a habit he picked up to fight the urge to paint them, catching on floral shorts and thin tights and close-shaped t-shirts splashed with color.

As a whole, he counts four shirts, two skirts, one pair of high-waist shorts, and a single pair of light pink tights.

…Oh, and a clip-on hair ribbon. Blue.

Really, it’s not that much, barely a few days selection of clothes, but at the same time, it’s everything.

He wants to cry, he wants to cheer, he wants to burn it and curl up in a ball and try to forget.

It’s the little things that destroy a person, Lance thinks, when it comes to the wanting.

Outside the room, Mavis’s voice rises to a sharp crescendo, followed by the muffled sound of something being chucked sharply against a thankfully soft object, and, judging by the following array of colorful swears directed to the air, Lance can only assume it was Mavis’s phone being thrown, hopefully onto the sofa or something where it won’t be damaged.

It’s a funny thought that preoccupies his mind for all of about two seconds, before his gaze falls to the clothing spread out before him, and he swallows nervously, calling out. “M-Mavis…?”

Despite his half-hearted effort at the tiny vocalization, the loud cursing from the kitchen trails off, and after a moment, Mavis pushes her way into the room, door slamming open and then swinging shut behind her on its own momentum. Her hair is a mess, sticking out in every direction where she’s clearly run her fingers through it, but she doesn’t look upset, just mildly pissed at best.

“Sorry, sorry, my boss is a dick. I was supposed to have tomorrow off to do fun bonding shit with you or something, but he’s now demanding I cover my lazy coworkers ass so…” She trails off, eyes falling to him for the first time and widening, taking in his own shell-shocked expression, before her gaze catches on the scattered clothing, and it closes off, becomes guarded. “Ah.”

With a kind of long-awaited resignation, she trudges over to the trundle bed, nudging Lance gently with a food to get him to move over, and then flopping down next to him, lifting an arm in clear invitation. Lance doesn’t hesitate, despite the distant knowledge that the articles of his distress were undeniably provided by the person next to him, and falls against her side, tucking his head under Mavis’s chin and listening to the thrum of her heartbeat, the erratic sound slowing out to a steady rhythm as she calms down.

It’s good. Soothing. Like how he used to lay with Loraine when he was younger, the two of them tucked up together on that cramped bed layered in old quilts and well-worn pillows.

For a moment, when he closes his eyes and feels Mavis’s blunt fingernails scratch lightly against his scalp as her fingers card gently through his hair, he can pretend he’s back there again, in his sanctuary.

But... He sighs out, opening his eyes and meeting the sight of Mavis’s whitewashed wall. He is not there, and this apartment might just be his next best chance at something like a new sanctuary.

“I’m sorry.” Mavis says after a long moment of quiet, voice low and unsure. “I forgot.”

“Why would you…?” He rasps out, words falling into uncertainty.

Mavis chuckles, a brittle, bitter sound. “Let’s call it a momentary increase in stupidity. I just…” She sighs. “I wasn’t thinking, really. Well… No, I was thinking, just not very intelligently.”

“Well, clearly.”

She laughs at that, small but genuine, and Lance manages his own wet giggle in return. She grins down at him, and then her face falls, turning away to look at the wall. “I… I listen to you on the other end of that phone every week, Lance, and I don’t even have to see you to know how much it’s killing you underneath, living like that. No matter what, you’re miserable because of it, and I suppose I just thought…” She shrugs. “No one knows you here, so there’s no consequences here, y’know? It’s completely removed from home, from your school… from everything.” Mavis smiles weakly. “It’s stupid, but I guess at the time I wanted this place to be the escape for you that I made it for me. Plus, well… I can’t help but feel a little guilty, I suppose.”

Lance shifts at that, offering a questioning noise. “What? Why?”

Mavis shifts nervously. “Lance, you hate living like this, and I was the one who talked you into Greenwood in the first place—“

“Hey, no. No.” Lance sits up quickly, glaring at Mavis. “You didn’t talk me into anything. This— Everything was my decision. You didn’t coerce me into making the choices I have or any of that shit.”

“But—“

“Nope!” He says firmly, poking his cousin’s cheek gently. “You helped me, nothing more, and for that I’m grateful, okay? I’m…” He sighs. “I’m not saying I like living like this, or that I’m alright with it, because I’m really… really not, but I need it. I need this… purpose, to keep me going, to give me something to hold onto.” Lance hesitates. “I’m honestly not sure if I’d be alive right now, if you hadn’t helped me find that. It stabilized me.”

Mavis stares at him for a long moment, and then groans, head tipping back to fall against the side of the proper bed next to the trundle, where her back rests. “Don’t go getting emotional on me now, kid. We can’t both be having a sob fest, and your bullshit earnestness makes my self-pity just look sad.”

Lance grins in spite of himself. “Karma for deciding you’re to blame for all my problems.”

“Hey!” Mavis sticks a hand into the air, pointing up at nothing imperiously. “I never said I was to blame for all your problems. Just… a few of them.” She coughs, hand falling after a moment almost bashfully. “Ok, in retrospect, that sounds… Yeah.” After a moment, she glances down at him, raising an eyebrow. “I did actually mean to return those this morning before I picked you up and get you some different stuff, I just genuinely forgot.”

He smiles softly. “I believe you. I wasn’t angry in the first place, anyways.”

It’s true, really. Whatever slight slivers of annoyance he’d felt at Mavis sticking such metaphorical poisoned fruit in front of him had quickly drained away within minutes, leaving only a kind of calm acceptance and tiny pieces of lingering grief.

Mavis loves him, as much as any of his sisters, and maybe even almost as much as Loraine had, he knows this. She would never do anything to intentionally hurt him, or pain him. She only wanted to help— Had only ever wanted to help, since that first conversation after Loraine’s funeral, when she had offered him Loraine’s final gift, and along with it the directions to a chance at redemption.

“I should have known it was a shitty idea from the beginning, really.” Mavis murmurs quietly, leaning over and snagging the single pair of tights to glare at them ruefully. “Sticking you with that kind of decision.”

Almost unconsciously, Lance reaches out, catching the dangling ends of the tights carefully and tangling them between his fingers. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just…” He swallows. “I want too much, I think. I’m afraid if I let myself have that kind of thing, I might not have the heart to give it up again.” His eyes flicker to his cousin. “And I can’t, Mavis. I can’t let those pieces of who I was back into my life. I’d rather die than jeopardize this last thing that I can do for her.”

Mavis sighs, dropping the rest of the tights into his hands. “You shouldn’t live your life trying to please what’s not coming back, Lance.”

“It’s what I want, though.” He says. “It’s the only thing I want, really, to do what she couldn’t. It’s the closest I can get to keeping a piece of her alive, and I… I need that.”

“I know…” Mavis says, closing her eyes. “God, I know.”

That night, Lance dreams of Loraine. Of the soft warmth of her hugs, of the sweet taste of summer air and of breathless laughter caught in near soundlessness on rushing air around a speeding hoverbike on old dirt roads.

There are dreams Lance has, nightmares really, that end in screaming, in the oxygen in his lungs being stolen in heaving sobs that leave him shivering and with an aching throat. Those… Those are the nights of blood and pain, the sensation of falling through air and of remembering what glassy, unseeing eyes look like, the nights when he cannot escape the day she died.

This is not one of those nights. Though, still, the bittersweet feeling of her face and her heart, loving and kind, haunting his sleep leave him with tear tracks on his face when he wakes, regardless.

Almost blindly, he rolls half out of bed, intending to walk the five steps necessary to reach Hunk’s across the room and curl up against the larger, slowly snoring warmth that is his friend, before his hand touches scratchy, industrial carpet instead of old wooden floorboards, and he remembers he is not at home, and Hunk is not here.

Sitting up, he rubs at his eyes blearily, squinting at Mavis’s distinctly unoccupied bed next to the pullout trundle, and then turns when the faint flickering of light under the doorway catches his eye. Stumbling to his feet, he carefully crosses the room and opens the door, pulling it open with the gentlest of creaks to bring the wash of yellow light from the kitchen streaming in, illuminating Mavis’s frame where she sits on a stool next to her kitchen bench, half hunched over a bowl of cereal and eyes settled on the book she has propped up against the fruit bowl. She blinks, glancing up, and when her gaze finds him her expression softens ever so slightly, almost lost in the imperceptibly neutral planes of her face.

He almost expects her to offer some quip, some cliché line that he can read in her eyes that screams you too, huh? But instead, she merely makes a halfhearted noise that falls somewhere between a snort and a sigh, and pulls out the stool next to her, patting it idly. Slowly, Lance edges out of the doorway and over to the stool, catching his toes on the well-worn wood of the ring between the legs of the seat as he looks for footing, scrambling up onto it as best he can. Legs dangling, too short to touch the ground, once he’s settled.

Mavis grabs a bowl from a stack on the bench, obviously washed but yet to be put away in a cupboard, in front of him, and then nudges the open box of cereal towards him. He accepts it wordlessly, pouring it into the bowl in rush of noise against the silence as the pieces of grain collide against the porcelain.

They’re Cheerios, he notes almost absentmindedly.

Loraine had liked Cheerios.

Fumbling, he reaches for the milk carton where it sits between the two bowls, and Mavis intercepts him quickly, picking up the carton and unscrewing the lid.

“New carton. It’s heavy.” Is all she offers, pouring the milk into his bowl. She resettles the carton once the pieces of golden brown are floating in white, presenting him with a spoon from who knows where wordlessly.

Lance takes it, scooping up a mouthful, and tries not to cry when the cool rush of milk and sweet tang of the cereal hits his tongue.

“I never liked Cheerios much growing up.” Mavis says quietly, staring down at her half-empty bowl and trailing her spoon through the mess before lifting it to her lips. “Loraine and Evie did, though, so that was all my Ma or Aunt Maria ever bought when they went to the store.”

Outside, there comes the faintest whisper of witching hour traffic along the streets, and the clinking of their spoons against the porcelain bowls is loud in the otherwise silence of the night.

“You’re an adult,” He murmurs, “…Does it ever get better?”

Mavis sighs, propping an elbow on the bench and resting her cheek in her hand. “I’ll tell you when I figure that out myself.”

Lance nods jerkily, and that’s the end of it.

Even by that first day after Lance arrives, things are a mess, because Mavis’s schedule is a mess— And maybe her life in general is a bit of a mess, too, but Lance imagines that comes with the territory when one is somehow a part-time bartender, part-time stagehand, and freelance musician all at once.

Plus, well, it’s Mavis. She kind of specializes in functioning from afar while everything actively goes to shit, which he suspects is a trait he might slowly be inheriting via continued exposure to her mere presence.

Maybe. Maybe.

…Lance isn’t sure if he knows how to function period, really, regardless of outside problems, so maybe he’s just kidding himself with that one.

Either way, function Mavis does, so the morning after their little heart-to-heart over soggy bowls of Cheerios in the last trickling vestiges of night, she rolls out of bed to the chime of an annoyingly cheerful alarm at six AM and staggers her way into the bathroom to get ready for work, nearly tripping over Lance’s trundle as she goes, which is enough to wake him and send him scurrying into her bed to seize the warm spot she’s left behind.

She makes a face at him when she returns, poking the side of his head where it peeks out between the sheets. He hums sleepily, and she grins, a crooked, fragile thing. “’M sorry about this. I really wasn’t supposed to work today.” He offers a half-awake noise of understanding, and Mavis’s expression fades into a soft smile. “I’ll be back by dinner, I’ll bring takeout or something. You still like Thai food, right?”

“Mmmm….” Lance rumbles out, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “…Yeah.”

“Good, cool.” She straightens up, sighing out. “TV has a DVR, remote’s on the table. Don’t open the door to anyone, etcetera, etcetera.”

“I know, Mavis.” He mumbles. “I’ll be fine.”

She hesitates, dropping an uncharacteristic kiss onto his forehead, an action Lance would expect more from Marcie or Evie, and then she’s gone.

It only takes a few hours, once he’s rolled out of bed and forced himself into the living room, before the boredom sets in, and the itch, just there under his skin, becomes all the more obvious, like a crawling, wiggling thing, burying deep until it hums and scratches in his bones. It had been there since he’d woken up and gone to get dressed, uncomfortably aware of the selection of clothing Mavis had gotten for him shoved onto a shelf in the closet, just… there, right within grasp.

It’s undeniable, like a siren’s call, and television can only distract him for so long.

Almost automatically, he reaches for his phone, intending to call Hunk, his go-to backup system, before he pauses, and then drops his hand.

Hunk. Right. Part of the whole purpose of this trip was to not so subtly give Hunk a break from Lance’s… everything. He’s not going to go calling his friend after less than a day over some frigging clothing. It’ll just leave Hunk worrying about him incessantly.

He takes his phone, buries it between the couch cushions, and resurrects Mavis’s laptop from its constantly overheating, cracked screen, duct-taped death to Skype Ritzie.

“It’s just all so boring, darling.” She tells him in lighthearted monotone, bushy hair pulled back in a single ponytail on the other side of the screen, pale skin against jean shorts where she sits cross-legged and curled up in on herself. Off screen, someone calls her name, and she yells back loudly in French, before turning back to the camera with a sigh. “I love France, but it’s all just making nice with Papa’s business associates while he jets them around on cruises and listening to him arguing over the phone with Daddy about custody, again.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s like I’m a freaking commodity to be passed around.”

“Sorry.” He tells her in a whisper, and Ritzie laughs, the bright, cheerful sound he’s come to recognize and appreciate in her.

“Not like it’s your fault. I’m just looking forward to when I escape the parental affection battle and school goes back. I miss you lot, even Yuu, despite his nagging.”

“Miss you too.” He says, and even though he can’t tell her about the long-worn scars on his arms or the buzzing itch under his skin that he called to distract himself from, because she does not know, will never know, he still means it.

Will always mean it.

Even long after Ritzie hangs up the call, Lance sits there, fingernails digging into his arms where they’re crossed, and when it gets to be too much, he jumps up, forces himself into busyness by washing he dishes that lay piled high on Mavis’s counter, all the way down to their cereal bowls from the night before.

He eats a handful of dry Cheerios, pretends it’s lunch even as he ignores the sandwich sitting in the fridge, cut in triangles like he insisted on when he was little, before Mavis left home, and studiously does not cry.

It’s fine. He’s fine.

And when Mavis brings home takeout and bullies him into watching shitty old anime reruns with her, it’s almost good.

Almost… It feels like no matter what Lance does, he’s always just grasping at almost.

Two days after Lance first arrives in New York, minus the day he actually got off the plane and took his first steps into Mavis’s apartment, he reaches his breaking point.

...In a way, he’s surprised he even lasted that long.

It’s not so bad, in the morning, when Mavis doesn’t have work and drags him out of bed to walk around the neighborhood, teaches him the differences between the New York and D.C. metro systems, parades him over to the diner two blocks down and presents him cheerfully to the workers, who all know her by first name. It’s movement, noise, people, all the ingredients to the recipe for adequate distraction and entertainment. It’s nice, even with the oppressive heat of the summer sun beating down on the sidewalks, and Lance can see why his cousin treasures the home she has found here so much.

It’s in the evening, when Mavis, apologetic and reluctant, has to duck out for a short shift at the bar, that Lance finds the itch return, driving him to more frantic cleaning and fruitless pacing in an effort to forget.

He knows, really, that there’s only two options to drive away the itch— Give in, or… Well, he’s been trying to break himself of the latter habit, for the sake of Hunk’s sanity and the slowly healing marks on his arms.

On some level, Lance doesn’t know why it’s so bad this time, compared to any other. He’s been doing this for over a year now, has held himself strictly to this decision even when he’s home on the weekends and holidays, far away from Greenwood and its prying eyes, and he’s never come this tenuously close to slipping, to giving in.

He thinks, maybe, it’s the utter lack of pressures here. If he gave in at home, if he dressed and acted as he liked and found a way to lock it down every time he returned to Greenwood, his family would, in well-meaning intent, encourage him to take the clothing he loved, the things he once treasured, back with him.

They are too understanding, in a way. They’ll never be able to grasp the importance of this, of the lie he and Mavis have so delicately crafted.

But… Here? Here there’s only Mavis— Friend, cousin, coconspirator, secret-keeper. She knows. She understands why.

And so, as the hours drain away and the night creeps in, Lance finds himself falling from grace in a moment of desperate self-pity, fueled by exhaustion and resignation, and sneaking into the bathroom with the single hair bow Mavis had purchased grasped between his shaking fingers.

When he clips it on unsteadily, stepping back and squinting into the mirror, it’s all wrong, a conspicuous mark against his short hair and faded dark grey shirt. He looks more like a child playing around in his mother’s makeup drawer, metaphorically, at least, then he does like himself.

At the same time, though, even that one little piece is… Everything. The color of it, the weight of it against his skull, it’s everything to him.

“It looks nice.” Mavis’s voice rings out from the doorway, and Lance startles, turning sharply to see her reclined there, arms crossed and considering.

He hadn’t even heard her come in, he realizes. Too caught up in his elated panic over this tiny act of... something.

“It looks terrible.” He bites out, and Mavis shrugs.

“I think the color suits you.”

Lance glances back to the mirror, looking again, and for a moment he wants to ask if she really thinks so, but he shakes it off. “Doesn’t matter anyways.” He reaches to unclip it, and Mavis slides forward quickly, catching his hands in her own and staring down at them, biting her lip for a moment in an unsure, hesitant gesture.

“I’m not going to tell you what you should or should not do, Lance. But—“ She glances up ever so slightly, meeting his eyes even as she still looks down at him, the significant height difference between them never more apparent. “Nobody here can touch you. Nobody has to know.”

He blinks, pointedly ignoring the itch behind his eyes, and hesitantly looks back at his reflection, studying the splash of sky blue against his slight curls, the same as Loraine’s, even at this length.

He wants. He wants so badly, and he’s so tired of not being able to give into it.

Hesitantly, nervously, he slips one of his hands free of Mavis’s, dropping it to his side and running the edges of his fingers along the hem of his board shorts, the long fabric chaffing against the inside of his knees as it has for the last two days, heavy and unbearable.

“Could I…” Lance says quietly. “Could you bring me those shorts you bought me? Please?”

Just three weeks. Three weeks here, in this place where secrets can lay buried, and then he will go home to Veradera, and be who he needs to be once more.

Nobody needs to know.

…Right?

#spilling like an overflowing sink (voltron)#Voltron #vld fanfic #vld fanfiction #my writing

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newagesispage · 4 years

Text

AUGUST 2020

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There is a limited series coming to Showtime ,Blackbird: Lena Horne and America.

*****

Barack Obama joined a zoom call to Crip camp for the 30th anniversary of Americans with Disabilities act.** Hearing Obama, Clinton and even Bush speak as they remembered John Lewis reminds us how calming it can be to hear inspiring words.** Feel bad that Jimmy Carter could not attend since it was in Georgia. We miss ya.**John Lewis put his own words out there in the NY Times on the day of his funeral. He also wrote letters over the last couple of months to many activists to continue the fight.

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Racism is so American that when you protest it, people think you’re protesting America. – Romy Reiner

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Check our Smartless, the new podcast from Sean Hayes, Jason Bateman and Will Arnett. Each episode one of the hosts brings a surprise guest that answers questions.

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Opening some states is like opening a ‘peeing’ section of the pool. –Neil de Grasse Tyson

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Rumor is that Dave Chappelle will be on Letterman’s next batch of Netflix shows, My next guest needs no introduction.

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Check out the album Grandpa Metal from Brian Posehn, Brendon Small, Scott Ian, Al Yankovic, Corey Taylor and Jill janus.

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Reports have come thru that Brett Kavanaugh wanted the Supreme Court to avoid decisions about abortion and Trump’s financials.

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The Redskins have become the Washington Football team.

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Hulu will bring us Nine Perfect Strangers with Nicole Kidman, Melissa McCarthy and Michael Shannon.

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Days alert: I wish Bonnie would turn out to be Adrienne. If the switch was made when she chose Justin over Lucas,that would explain a lot. Eve is back for revenge but Ciara and Hope will find Ben. Will it be too late? I hope this brings Shane and Teresa back to town. Allie will have a boy but who is the Father? Rumor is that it could be Theo Carver or Parker Jonas or Tripp Dalton. Will Eli and Lani have twins? Sarah and Xander will reunite??

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Spencer Grammer was stabbed while trying to break up an altercation in NY. She is on the mend.

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The Green Banana is a sort of 425 foot bright blue sink hole that has been found off the coast of Florida. Divers say it is about 155 feet below the surface.

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The Department of Homeland Security has more law enforcement capability than all other branches combined.** Why aren’t the storm troopers working on real crime?? Fingers crossed for no more Trump troops for “Operation Legend.”

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Jim Jordan says that, “Big tech’s out to get conservatives.” The top performing FB posts that day: Ben Shapiro 2. Fox news 3. Dan Bongino 4. CNS news 5. Ben Shapiro 6. Ben Shapiro 7. Fox news 8. CNN 9. Blue lives matter

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2 million Americans do not have running water.

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Actor Bryan Callen has been accused of sexual assault.

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Breonna Taylor is on the cover of O.** The WNBA has dedicated their season to Breonna and the Black Lives Matter movement.

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Epix has brought us a sort of new look at Manson with Helter Skelter: An American Myth.

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Southern Crossroads has a slogan: Rednecks for Black lives!!

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Louis De Joy, the new Postmaster General has apparently shut down sorting machines and cut overtime so that mail carriers must leave mail behind.

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David Duke is permanently banned from Twitter.

*****

The Emmy noms are here: Netflix broke all previos records for number of noms. Leading the pack was Watchmen, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, Ozark, Succession, The Mandolorian, SNL and Schitt’s Creek. The best drama category is the toughest with The Mandolorian, Ozark, Succession, Better Call Saul, The Crown, The Handmaids tale, Killing Eve and Stranger Things. Best supporting actor in drama and comedy is tough including Kieran Culkin, Giancarlo Esposito, Matthew Macfayden, Andre Braugher, Tony Shalhoub, Kenan Thompsonand Daniel Levy. The limited series or movie supporting actress is loaded with goodies too like Holland Taylor, Uzo Aduba, Margo Martindale, Tracey Ullman, Toni Collette and Jean Smart. How can you pick?? The 72nd Emmy’s will be hosted by Jimmy Kimmel.

*****

A new low: College Covid parties in Alabama to see who can get it. I think we need to crack down on education because we have some pretty stupid people in this country. Why do we want to work the medical professionals within an inch of their lives??** 155 thousand dead. The total cases have dipped slightly but fatalities are up. ** Pelosi has issued mandatory mask order for the house.** In the new covid bill they want 1.75 bill for a new FBI building that will stay in the same place that it now stands?? This surely couldn’t be because it is across the street from the Trump hotel and he does not want competition and likes his special locale. **The Senate decided to take a long weekend and not deal with it until August. How do so many not care about their fellow man??** The longer it takes to get the virus under control, the more business’s we lose forever.

*****

The Catherine’s clothing chain is closing.

*****

We need more detective shows with real stories about cops that don’t do things by the book. We have all heard of the fucked up crime scenes like Jon Benet Ramsey or Jeff Macdonald and we know that is just the tip of the iceberg.

*****

There have been shootings all over the country at various gatherings which should not even have been held.

*****

There is a long history with these vipers, Bill Barr’s Father hired a 20 year old Jeff Epstein to teach at Dalton. He was a high school drop out with no degree.** The usual suspects, Nugent and Baio et al.will speak virtually for Trump at the Republican convention.** Contrary to what the administration said, Paw Patrol was not cancelled.** You knew he would get around to wanting to postpone the election. Too bad for him congress has to agree and if they can’t work it out then the speaker may have to take over.

*****

Shep Smith has joined CNBC.

*****

Colin Kaepernick’s life will come to Netflix from Ava Duvernay. **

*****

The world hates us so much right now. We’ve been ruined in more ways than we know.** What kind of shithole President wishes a child sex trafficker well?

*****

Billy Eichner will play Paul Lynde in Man in the Box.

*****

The U.S. has told the Chinese consulate in Houston to shut down. Is this because of intellectual theft?? Now China has moved us out of our consulate there.

*****

Fairfax County will rename Robert E. Lee high after John Lewis.

*****

The Reagan foundation has asked the Trump campaign to stop raising money off of his name.

*****

I’ve been begging everyone for years; please wear a mask! –Emo Phillips** CVS and Wal Mart no longer require masks!!

*****

The company, Tele Tracking that took over control of the covid info is owned by Chris Johnson. The 10 mil contract went to the NY real estate dude.

*****

Funny how everything is a handout besides generational wealth.

*****

Hooray to the Yankees and the Nationals for taking a knee before the game.** Trump claims he was busy with Covid and could not throw out the first pitch. Come to find out, he was not asked. He made it up.

*****

Favre and Trump golfing, yea, that sounds about right.

*****

A company can keep women from birth control if there are religious or moral objections. About 126 thousand women will lose coverage.

*****

Lt. Col Vindman had been approved for promotion but the President would make the final decision. The brave hero decided to retire.

*****

The Supreme Court ruled that Trump can’t block his records being released. It is in the public interest but Trump can try again to block with different tactics.** They also ruled that most of Eastern Oklahoma will remain Native American land.** The Esselen tribe of Monterey county have reclaimed land on the Big Sur coast that was theirs 250 years ago. This was a cooperative effort between them, the California natural resources agency and a conservancy group.

*****

Trump calls the Black lives matter in front of Trump tower, “a symbol of hate.”** Cops shot, Cops killing civilians, mask confrontations: The mental illness in this country is officially off the charts.

*****

Biden claims he will use the Trump tax cuts to pay for 5 million new jobs in products and technology. The Dems released their agenda that touts free child care.** 100 days before the election, Brad Parscale was demoted. Jared puts his friends in high places and it goes on.** They say John Kasich will speak for the Dem convention. **

*****

Hey Seth Meyers: I LOVE the sea Captain!!

*****

Muddy Water’s former Chicago home at 4339 S. Lake Park Ave. will be a museum.

*****

Sen. Tom Cotton called slavery, “a necessary evil.”

*****

Still advertising on Fox news: Verizon, Noom, Allstate, Pfizer, Ancestry, Honey, Poshmark, Purple and Sanofi. ** And we know never to eat Goya again.

*****

Jean Smart will star in Miss Macy.

*****

Oprah mag will stop print.

*****

It is so Scary Clown: The only thing the enemy can’t stand is being laughed at. –Mark Twain

R.I.P. all the Covid victims, Nick Cordero, Hugh Downs, Ennio Morricone, Bill Field, the elephants of Botswana, Ronald Schwary, Charlie Daniels, Mary Kay Letourneau, Max B. Bryer, Kelly Preston, Naya Rivera, Ben Keough, Phyllis Somerville, Grant Imahara, Emitt Rhodes, Regis Philbin, John Lewis, John Saxon, Peter Green, Malik B., Herman Cain, Alan Parker and Olivia de Havilland.

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spajonas · 6 years

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Sunday Update - January 7, 2018

I keep writing 2017. 🙂 I know that will pass with some time, but the whole 2018 thing is still a novel concept.

Not much to report this week since I went on to battle my second sinus infection of the season. This time I did much better, though. I armed my neti pot with extra goodies to help fight and kill the sinus infection. If you’re wondering, I use Grapefruit Seed Extract which is a citrucidal in my neti pot three times per day. 3 drops in the neti, 3 times per day. It works well, and it can usually kill a sinus infection in two days. Then you just deal with the snotty fallout afterward. Once the infection is gone, I use it only twice per day, once in the morning and once at night. It helps keep infections from starting again. I used to do this 2 years ago when I got recurring sinus infections and it worked. My batch of GSE expired this time and I had to go buy more, but it has worked again. I’m pleased that I didn’t have to get antibiotics again.

So, that was most of my week along with this thing called a “bomb cyclone” that dropped snow on us, cold temperatures, and wickedly fast winds. The kids had been back in school for only two days when it hit. Sigh. They had Thursday off and a late start on Friday. Now my husband is home sick with some sort of virus and fever that I hope I don’t get. Keep your fingers crossed for me!

What I really want to be done with is the frigid temperatures. It’s consistently 5-9ºF around here (big negative temperatures for you in Celsius-land), and I haven’t walked outside in a long time. Not even to drop off or pick up the kids from school. I’ve been driving a lot. I miss fresh air.

In work news, I started on FUKUSHA MODEL EIGHT again, the third book of the Hikoboshi Series. Amazingly enough, the first few chapters were really tight, and they only needed some small revisions. Now that I’m coming into the second act, I know where I have to change and cut. I’m looking forward to adding more to the story later.

What else happened this week?

We had champagne on New Year’s Day, which was a nice treat.

Lunch is always a tough meal for me. I’m usually home alone and I don’t want to make anything too involved. I’m working on having go-to meals that are easy to put together and eat at a moment’s notice.

This is what I look like when I’m battling a sinus infection. Me and my tissues.

I had to give up coffee a few years ago because it did awful things to my stomach but the powdered coffee seems to treat me well. So I’ve brought it back into my life and I’m happy about it. I’m still primarily a tea drinker though because I can’t drink the regular coffee anywhere.

Because we had all of these nuts and chocolate leftover from Christmas gifts, I decided to make granola bars with them. It was an excellent idea! I’ve been enjoying them as afternoon snacks each day.

And that’s about it! Nothing earth-shattering to report here. Just getting through each day as we brave the cold and sickness.

Coming up this week on the blog: Teaser Tuesday, Another Author Feature, Done While Listening, and Book Updates.

Sunday Update – January 7, 2018 was originally published on S. J. Pajonas

#Instagram #life #sickness #Sunday Update #writing

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consulting-celiac-in-the-tardis · 7 years

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7 Gluten Free Frozen Foods Always Found in a Celiac's Freezer

New blog post!

You've probably heard the saying: "If you fail to plan, you're planning to fail." Well, when it comes to eating gluten free with celiac disease, that quote is - for better or worse - 100% true. Although a gluten free diet doesn't have to be complicated, planning to have a few items on hand can make it even easier. My favorite secret weapon? Freezer foods.

In fact, on National Frozen Foods Day (today, in case you thought "Monday" and "holiday" was a paradox), I'm celebrating the foods I always have stashed in my freezer.

Whether you have celiac disease, eat gluten free or just want a healthier diet, here are seven foods (plus a handful of entire, allergy-friendly meals!) to keep in your freezer for easy breakfasts, snacks and savory meals!

Breakfast

1. Frozen spinach, zucchini/squash, berries, bananas, etc.

Anytime you open my freezer, you'll always find some frozen produce. The exact fruits and veggies often vary by the season. For example, during the fall, I often freeze pomegranate seeds to keep them from going bad (and to enjoy them for the longest as possible). In the summer, you can find fruits like cantaloupe and berries that were on sale.

Some of the staples that always appear, though, are frozen spinach and chopped bananas. I can use them in my smoothies, but they also have a wide variety of other uses. The spinach can be defrosted and used for pizza, stir-frys, or really any baked/sautéed meal. Meanwhile, the bananas can be blended into banana ice cream, eaten straight out of the freezer (for a sweet, refreshing snack) or even defrosted and used in baked goods when you're low on ripe bananas.

Using defrosted frozen bananas makes this granola extra thick and clustery!

In my opinion, you can never go wrong with frozen fruits and veggies!

2. Pre-made smoothies. Now that I'm working (almost) full-time, I don't have the luxury of making a fresh smoothie every morning. Luckily, I've discovered that making a huge batch of smoothies ahead of time and defrosting them as needed works just as well!

The process is simple. First, create your smoothie as usual (may I suggest recipes like my Zucchini Bread Nice Cream, classic Banana Ice Cream, or Breakfast Buddha Bowl?). Then, pour your smoothies into freezer-safe containers. I like using glass mason jars or glass Tupperware. One pro tip: instead of putting on a lid to your mason jar, simply cover the top with a small plastic bag.

I made the mistake of screwing on jar lids and, when the smoothies expanded as they froze, they actually cracked my mason jars. (There were a few tears, I'll admit). Alternatively, you can be sure to leave two to three inches or so of space for the smoothie to expand.

This buddha bowl's base was actually pre-made and defrosted!

Once you're ready to eat, simply pop your jar in the microwave and use the "defrost" setting. Personally, I microwave my 16-ounce mason jar for 7 minutes and that's about perfect! 3. Homemade bliss balls, popcorn truffles or banana bombs. I'll admit that I'm not a huge snacker. However, when I need something sweet, I love having some homemade treats waiting for me in the freezer. All of these recipes include dates, which keeps the balls/truffles/bombs from freezing solid in the freezer.

I enjoy making around 12 to 20 treats at a time, which usually lasts me a month or so (depending on my cravings). These are especially delicious during the summer since they can be a cool, refreshing treat. These can also be great toppings for smoothie bowls, yogurt parfaits or even oatmeal (especially if you make cookie-dough flavors).

Definitely close-up worthy...

Savory Meals 4. Daiya cheese mozzarella shreds or homemade cheese sauce.

Sometimes a girl just needs a bowl (or plate) full of dairy-free cheesy goodness, am I right? While I won't claim that Daiya cheese is health food, it's delicious in small amounts - and you really don't need a ton to give your meal a cheesy kick. When I first bought Daiya cheese, I kept it in the fridge, but it could get moldy way before its expiration date.

Keeping it in the freezer, on the other hand, works PERFECTLY. After all, you're typically adding heat to melt the cheese anyway, so having the shreds be frozen really doesn't affect the final product. My favorite uses for quick, easy meals are sprinkle Daiya cheese on some sautéed veggies, on my stuffed spaghetti squash or zucchini boat/ball or in potato wedge nachos.

That little sprinkle of Daiya cheese on top <3

I also love having easy access to my homemade vegan cheese sauce (based off of TheVegan8's recipe). The sauce doesn't take long to make, but using the frozen version can turn stove top mac n' cheese into a five-minute process. This sauce doesn't stay the same creamy texture once frozen and defrosted, but it works just the same in slow cooker meals or when heated up in a pan for dipping.

5. Food for Life Rice Tortillas, Outside the Breadbox buns or Canyon Bakehouse breads.

Although I'm probably eating more breads and processed gluten free foods than ever before, I still don't eat the same ones every day. To keep my gluten free goodies super fresh, I put them in heavy-duty Ziploc bags and toss them in the freezer.

Food for Life rice tortillas (which just released a new black rice flavor!) make delicious chips. All I do is take part of a tortilla from the freezer and put it in a sauce/frying pan. Let it defrost for a few minutes and then put the heat on high. Cook until crispy, flipping the pieces regularly and watching carefully since they can burn super fast. Once crunchy, devour!

The purple chips hiding in the purple brick background!

Meanwhile, gluten free breads can just be taken out of the freezer a few hours ahead of time to defrost naturally or be defrosted for a few seconds in the microwave. Just be sure to not over-nuke them, or else they'll taste overly chewy.

6. Cooked rice or other grains.

This one's easy to understand. Especially when I was still in college (and, fingers crossed, when I'm in grad school next year!), sometimes even minute rice took too long to make. So, I'd cook big batches of rice over the weekend and freeze small portions that could be defrosted as needed.

You can use the exact same approach to cook, freeze and defrost other grains like quinoa, millet or buckwheat. You can let the grain defrost naturally by leaving it out on the counter (or in your fridge) a few hours before eating. Or, you can enlist the help of the magic microwave! Sometimes the grains taste a little drier once defrosted, so some especially delicious uses can be in casseroles or saucy dishes. 7. Frozen chickpeas, black beans, fish, or other meat. You didn't think I'd forget about protein, did you? However you get your protein, you can make sure the food stays good by freezing it until needed. When I was eating a lot of fish, I'd buy fish when it was on sale (yay Sprouts!) and freeze it until I was ready to cook it. I also froze pre-cooked portions for easy meals later on.

My "snack plate" dinner addiction lately...

Now that I'm eating more plant-based protein, I'm still getting my money's worth out of my freezer and microwave. I've discovered that black beans and chickpeas freeze super well. Try to freeze them as flattened/spread out as possible in a Ziploc bag. Then, you can just break off however much you need for each meal and defrost that portion. Frozen beans work especially well if you're smashing them, adding them to a soup or stew or even throwing them in the slow cooker. 8. The freezer king: leftovers.

Finally, the most obvious (and possibly delicious) form of freezer food: leftovers. Having an entire meal in the freezer was a huge blessing during midterms or finals week or just on long days when I didn't (and still don't) have any energy to cook. Some of my favorite freezer meals (from my recipes and other bloggers) include:

Paleo Banana Bread (with Coconut Flour): we freeze banana bread all the time in our house - and the best surprise is definitely finding a loaf wedged in the back that you forget about!

GF Buckwheat Waffles: excuse me as a I wipe the drool off of my computer screen...

Red Enchilada Sauce: this is the homemade enchilada sauce my mom and I swear by. Even though it doesn't take long to make, having it pre-made and frozen makes enchiladas super easy to throw together!

Slow Cooker Vegan Mac n' Cheese: I was amazed how well my slow cooker mac and cheese defrosts, especially if you add a little fresh Daiya cheese shreds or cheese sauce when you're about to serve it.

Vegetarian Black Bean Breakfast Burritos: I've honestly never had a breakfast burrito, but having some (healthy and homemade) freezer burritos on-hand is GENIUS!

Best Ever Black Bean Soup: I've recently become addicted to black bean soup, so this is definitely going to join my freezer in the near future!

Vegan Chocolate Chip Freezer Cookies: 'cause what's better than chocolate chip cookies? Always having chocolate chip cookies within reach (in your freezer)!

4-Ingredient Chocolate & Peanut Butter Freezer Fudge: now these could be dangerous...

I know some people hate on leftovers...but I will always be their biggest fan. I mean, what's better than free, delicious food that you didn't even have to cook?

Luscious leftovers...

Now, I will never say that eating gluten free as a celiac is easy. However, I can 100% agree that eating gluten free gets easier the more experienced and prepared you become. And when you have a bunch of delicious, allergy-friendly ingredients chillin' (pun intended) in your freezer, making a quick, easy and scrumptious breakfast, snack, lunch or dinner can be as easy as 1-2-de-freeze!

What foods do you keep in your freezer? Do you like any of the brands I've mentioned? Comment below!

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#Blogger #college #celiac #gluten free #coeliac #celiacs #paleo #primal #foodporn #foodart

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