#it was behind the backsplash so it’s probably fine

[silk-bullet]

Hmmmmm 8am and I’ve just inhaled a bunch of ✨ black mold spores ✨

[copperbadge]

Oh boy,, now i wonder if we have any hidden weevils 😵‍💫 do you have advice on what you did with the vinegar water?

Well, the weevils weren't exactly hidden; they kept showing up on the counter, in the corners, etc. and when they almost got into a bag of cat food in the kitchen I realized it was a real issue. They don't stay hidden, they just live and reproduce in hidden places, which are sometimes inaccessible, hence my campaign of terror. If you walk into the kitchen in the morning, flick on the light, and don't see weevils on your counter, backsplash, or in the corners, you're probably fine. Most of the time people find them in food stores like flour or cereal, but mine can't get to my food so they just wander around the kitchen eating crumbs I drop.

I tried bug spray; it didn't seem very effective and even "pet safe" sprays aren't great for pets so I was hesitant about going nuclear with it. I finally googled and every website said "clean the area thoroughly and then spray with white vinegar". Now, I love the smell of cider vinegar, but white vinegar smells like BO to me, so when I saw some sites saying a 1:1 dilute vinegar:water mix, I went with that.

It's been effective -- kills them immediately, and then every time I see one, I just coat that area in vinegar water. No lingering smell or residue once it dries, it won't damage 99% of what's in the kitchen, and the cats keep away because they don't like the smell. I spray the baseboards, behind and underneath appliances (I just kinda aim behind them and hope for the best, I don't move them), and into every seam between linoleum tiles in the floor. And as I said, any cleaning item being used in the kitchen is used there last, then cleaned thoroughly before being stored or used elsewhere.

I've been using the vinegar about a week, and I'm still seeing bugs, but I'm still also finding new places to spray, and I've noticed that the weevils I'm seeing are much smaller and less frequent. I think I'm going to keep spraying pretty constantly throughout November, but then take it down to maybe just one all-over spritz once a week or so. I don't really anticipate being able to wipe them out completely, they're an endemic problem to Chicago, but I needed to get the numbers down.

[finniestoncrane]

A Taste

The Bear!Sydney x GN!Reader, word count: 500 not one single bit of me could stop from getting this idea out i am desperate to give her a hug and a smooch and some unconditional love so it's just little but i needed it I NEEDED IT request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: fluff and a kiss

You could smell it from the elevator, even before the doors opened on to the floor of her apartment building. There was something about it, a familiar spice, something she always put in her food, that told you it was definitely hers. So good, so tantalising. It felt like you were being dragged by your nose as you inhaled deeply down the corridor, grocery bag in hand, taking a deep breath as you unlocked and swung open the door to Sydney’s place.

“Hey, smells good in here, babe! I got the orange juice you were looking for. Specific brand and everything.”

You walked from the front door, kicking your shoes off and close to the shoe rack, juggling the paper bag in your arms.

“Got a couple more things too, just a little something for dessert!”

Rounding the corner to the open plan kitchen, you could continued before you were cut off.

“I hope that’s ok, I don’t mean to overshadow anything that… you’re… making… What are you making?”

Aside from a mess was what you wanted to follow that up with, but it didn’t feel like the right moment. Sydney clutched the underside of the counter by the stove, white knuckle grip, head down, chin against her chest. There were pots and pans everywhere. Plates, spoons, spilled sauces. Not the usual standard she kept when cooking for you, or ever. Coming up from behind her, you reached to put your hand on her lower back, but jumped back as she smacked the ladle by her hand against the backsplash, painting the wall with a smear of red spatters.

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey… Syd… what’s wrong?”

“It fuckin’ sucks.”

She turned from the stove, wiping her mouth with the back of her forearm, missing a streak of the red sauce which stuck to the corner of her lips. Closing her eyes tight, she took a deep breath in and exhaled. Sensing your moment, you stepped in to her, wrapping your arms around her in a tight embrace. Your fingers stroked up and down her spine softly, pressing your forehead to hers as she lowered her head.

“Syd… it’ll be fine. I bet it tastes amazing.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Better than anything I could make. Lemme taste it?”

She scoffed, moving her head away from you again, but you grabbed her chin between your finger and thumb and kept her close.

“Come on, please?”

“It’s everywhere, I tossed it.”

“It’s ok, I got some.”

You ran your thumb over her lips, popping it into your mouth and savouring the sauce. She looked at you, pensively.

“Well?”

“Probably need a better taste.”

Pulling her into a soft kiss, you savoured the tang on her pout, breathing in deep through your nose, the smells filling the air. The food, her shampoo, her skin. All of it delicious.

[thesunshineriptide]

I Think Something Might Be Wrong

Characters: Azul, Floyd, Grim. Mentioned: Riddle, Leona, Yuu, Kalim, Vil, Idia, Malleus, Jade.

Cw: biting

Night Raven College is in complete disarray. This isn’t unusual, per say, but there’s something distressing to it.

Riddle can’t get his students to leave their dorm, not even their dorm rooms.

Mostro Lounge is completely overwhelming Yuu, leaving them stressed and snapping at anyone nearby.

Malleus’s students simply won’t leave him be, they’re following his every movement and asking for advice every three seconds.

Idia is crying in a corner, and while that’s not new, the fact that he’s banned from his games until the end of the day is.

Kalim is miserable as he focuses on his party, managing every detail to perfection.

Vil is exhausted from his morning workout, and is covered in dirt as a result of it.

Leona is sulking in his dorm, growling as one of his students tries to enter and tell him breakfast is ready.

And Azul is simply, plainly, and wholly confused as to why nobody is where they’re supposed to be and why nobody is concerned.

See, when he woke up in a completely different place than when he fell asleep, it immediately set off alarm bells. Was it a prank? Surely it was a joke played on him by the twins. It wouldn’t be hard, he supposed, to sneak him into Ramshackle dorm in the middle of the night.

But there’s something…even more different. Grim, Yuu’s precious ward, was sleeping on the bed with him, tucked around his feet. When he nudged the creature with his foot, he earned a sleepy, “Morning, Henchman.” from him.

Azul laughed, which only made Grim look confused. The creature shrugged, then said, “It’s tuna time! Get up, or we’ll be late!”

This made Azul pause. Since when was Grim ever so blatant with him? But, he supposed, maybe it was a joke after all.

He got up and padded down the stairs, groaning at the feeling of walking. Why would walking hurt? Why does he hurt all over? It was so bad, actually, that he had to grab the railing of the stares to keep himself from falling.

“Azul? You good?” Grim asked, scampering toward him, “You look sick. Do I need to tell the teachers you aren’t coming today?”

“Pardon? No, no, I’m quite fine. Thank you for your concern, Grim.” Azul said, “Actually, do you know where Yuu is?”

Grim paused, “Jeez, you must be in pain if you’re asking for them. They’re probably busy at Mostro this morning, though. Why?”

Azul’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion, “Why would Yuu be at Mostro Lounge?”

Grim stared back, “Because it’s in their dorm?”

The two stared at each other.

“What an amusing joke. Now, will you tell me where they are really?”

Grim scampered up Azul’s leg, settling into his arms as he yelped in surprise. “You don’ have a fever. Did you hit your head last night?”

Azul huffed and set Grim down, “I’m not- this little joke needs to end now, Grim.”

The concerned look Grim gave him made fear pool like lead into his stomach. “Henchman, I think you need to see the nurse.”

“Pardo- I’m well, thank you! I…” he sighed, deciding to let it go for now, “Well, if Yuu isn’t here, I suppose there’s no harm in tuna.”

Grim was quickly swayed over into forgetting the conversation at the mention of tuna, and he cheered as he ran down the stairs in front of Azul, straight to the kitchen.

Azul did his best to make it downstairs, gripping the railing. He stretched his back when he finally made it to the bottom and shuffled into the kitchen behind Grim.

It was clean - cleaner than he had ever seen it. It looked somewhat renovated as well, with cool, teal hexagon backsplash and freshly painted white cabinets. On autopilot, Azul went to grab a can of tuna and a plate for Grim, trying to remember what he could of the night prior. When Grim was served and Azul quietly began to make himself breakfast, he paused, staring down at his own hands.

Since when did he know where everything was? Since when did he go into someone else’s dorm and eat their food, especially when they’re out?

He began to put the food away, only to hear Grim yell, “Henchman! You have to eat breakfast, I know you! Get to cooking.”

He paused again, distraught, but barely had time to register it before he heard a knock at the door.

Surely this must be the end to the nightmare, he thought, the prank must be over since he didn’t give in.

When he opened the door, he was met with Floyd.

“So this little prank i-“

“Do you remember everything?” Floyd cut him off, looking worried and almost sick.

“What?” Azul asked, “What do you mean?”

“Who’s the housewarden of Scarabia?” Floyd asked again in a rush, his heterochromatic eyes staring down at Azul.

“Kalim Al Asim.” He replied, “What kind of question is that?”

Floyd let out a sigh of relief and practically tackled Azul in a hug, “Thank the seven you remember. Nobody else does, not even Jade. I think it’s because I-“

“Get off my henchman!” Grim cried, running over to them. He crawled up Floyd’s legs and waist, nails digging in as his bit down on his hand.

Floyd looked confused and shook his hand, watching Grim refuse to let go.

“I won’t let them rope you into a contract!” Grim said around Floyd’s hand, though he honestly could have said many other things and they’d be none the wiser.

Azul managed to break free of Floyd’s hold long enough to tactfully remove Grim from the eel.

“Azul,” Floyd said, “You’re missing’ your magic, right? Cause Shrimpy’s suddenly got some and it looks like yours.”

[laundrybiscuits]

(wait for the season to come back to me tag)

It takes them nearly two hours to get to Dustin’s place. Steve’s never really understood how Dustin can stand living so far out from the city, after growing up in a small town like Hawkins, but Dustin seems pretty happy with his yard and his dogs and everything.

The dogs in question start barking up a storm as they walk up to the door, Eddie trailing behind a few steps. He’s not subtle about how nervous he is, hood pulled up and hands tucked into his pockets. Steve’s sort of worried that he’s going to bolt, just disappear into the wilds of Wilmette, and Steve is never going to see him again.

Steve can hear Dustin getting closer to the door, yelling over the ruckus, “Jeez, settle down! It’s Steve, you know Steve!”

The door swings open, and Steve grabs Eddie’s sleeve to haul him inside before Dustin can get a good look, or react, or anything. Just, it’ll be better not to do this on the front lawn.

“Wow, Steve, rude. This is what you were being so mysterious about, a new girlfriend?”

“Not exactly,” says Eddie.

Dustin whirls around to look at him, really look at him beyond the mass of hair and slim build, and falls completely silent. Eddie lifts a hand in a weak little half-wave.

“It’s Eddie,” says Steve, unnecessarily.

“Steve,” says Dustin. “This isn’t funny.”

“See why I couldn’t say anything over the phone?” Steve huffs. “He’s right here and you don’t even believe it. He was—uh, actually, maybe Eddie should tell this part.” Steve hasn’t let go of Eddie’s sleeve, and he tugs at it. Eddie shuffles a little closer.

“Hey, buddy,” says Eddie. “Sorry about…leaving. Jesus, you got tall. Think you might be taller than Steve, now.”

“I’ve been trying not to take it personally,” says Steve.

“Prove it,” Dustin snaps. “If you’re really Eddie, tell me something only he would know.”

Eddie pushes a hand through his hair. “Fuck, I dunno. Um—oh, after our first Hellfire session together, you stayed behind to tell me I was running the game wrong. You had, like, an itemized list. Nearly kicked you out right then and there, but you said you'll get there in this super condescending way and I actually thought that was funny as hell."

Dustin’s eyes get wide. “What the fuck! Eddie? I mean—Eddie?”

“Yeah, man.” Eddie’s smiling; he looks like he might be tearing up.

Steve decides he probably isn’t needed for this part, and slips into the kitchen. The radio on the counter’s already playing, so he turns it up a little. He putters around, looks at the new backsplash and grabs a beer from the fridge. Dustin always has the weirdest freaking beers. The label on this one says it was made in some kind of European monastery. Steve doesn’t hate it, and he can tell it’s different from a standard-issue Heineken, but he doesn’t really get what Dustin likes about it. He thinks he might be too uncultured to appreciate the monks’ hard work, or something.

Steve’s just about finished the beer, all the way down to its funky sediment, and is trying real hard not to want to turn the radio down and eavesdrop, when he hears a crash from the living room.

He rushes in, heart racing, to see Eddie sprawled on the floor and rubbing his head. The ceiling lamp is swinging wildly.

“Guess what!” says Dustin. “Eddie can totally fly up to at least six feet if he starts from higher ground. We’re gonna try this outside next time and really figure out his upper limits.”

“Jesus, Dustin,” Steve groans, slumping in relief. “Give the guy a break. He’s been having tests run on him for the last decade, you don’t think they’ve figured out everything there is to figure out about…” he waves a hand in Eddie’s direction.

“It’s fine.” Eddie climbs to his feet. “I wasn’t the most cooperative subject for those dudes, so I don’t know how good their tests were.”

The word cooperative settles like monastic sediment in Steve’s gut. He’d been assuming that Eddie’d been at least sort of going along with the whole thing willingly, which in retrospect had been such a stupid thing to assume. He wants to set the whole fucking Hawkins Lab on fire. He wants to take a sledgehammer to every goddamn inch of the concrete that kept Eddie trapped and hurting. He—he takes a breath and unclenches his fists.

“Okay,” he says. “No more flying tests indoors, though. And, and definitely nothing else before we get some damn food in us. We having dinner tonight or what?”

[kingdaddydaichi]

☆ title: redefining (ch. 4) | (ch. 3) ☆ (ch. 5)

☆ pairing: cop!daichi sawamura x single mom!reader

☆ wc: 3.7k

☆ synopsis: four years after leaving your toxic ex, you find yourself a single mom to a 10-year-old boy named musubi, who harbors a lot of misdirected anger. you hear from his fifth grade teacher, mr. suga, more often than your own mother and a resulting friendship is born. meeting suga’s best friend wages a war between your head and your heart - one that challenges everything you think you know about love and police officers. neither are to be trusted. both have left you lost and scared when you needed them the most. so, when a cop comes knocking at love’s door, just how strong is your resolve to keep your heart under lock and key?

☆ warnings/notes: nsfw. mdni. daichi is a cop. grey sweatpants, need i say more?

So call out my name (call out my name) Call out my name when I kiss you so gently I want you to stay (I want you to stay) I want you to stay even though you don’t want me

Call Out My Name - The Weeknd

After taking your shoes off in the foyer, you followed Daichi through the short, narrow space before it opened up to his living room. It looked very much like a bachelor pad except for the fact that it was clean. And not just neat and tidy, but even the decor was simple with clean lines and muted colors. Slate grey-blue walls with white trim and black furniture. But there was a warmth about the place. And it smelled nice. It smelled like him.

Daichi walked further inside, disappearing into the dark hallway to your left. Standing in the middle of his living room, you took the opportunity to look around. To your right, the living room opened up to the immaculate, well-organized kitchen with light grey walls, white cabinets, and a wraparound backsplash of white, staggered subway tiles. He re-emerged moments later carrying a couple of blankets before dropping them onto the couch.

“C’mon, I’ll show you to my room.”

You followed him shyly, taking in the slightest details as you made your way into his bedroom. The walls were a lighter shade of greige, darker grey furniture - simple with clean lines. His bed was unmade - the messiest thing in the whole house. But in a way that made it feel warm and welcoming.

You waited as Daichi continued into his ensuite bathroom before rounding a corner. He came back out a few moments later with a black t-shirt before tossing it onto the bed.

“Here you go. Do you want shorts or anything? All my stuff is probably too big for you, but that makes it perfect for sleeping in,” he offered.

“No, thanks. I usually sleep in just a t-shirt anyway.”

Daichi’s member stirred at the thought of you sleeping in his bed while wearing nothing but his shirt. “Okay, well make yourself comfortable. I’m gonna change clothes and brush my teeth real quick but then I’ll be out of your way…”

Out of his way? You were in his bedroom in his home, being presented with his clothes, taking up his time, and interrupting his life.

“It’s fine, take your time. This is your house.”

“Yes, but you’re a guest,” he said, smiling at you from over his shoulder before closing the bathroom door. “And I’m a gentleman.”

A pang of desire twisted inside your core. Between the handsome smirk on his face and the depth of his voice, that statement had never sounded sexier.

While he did his thing in the bathroom, you quickly changed into the black cotton tee before taking your bra off from underneath. You closed your eyes and inhaled Daichi’s scent as it washed over you. The oversized shirt ended around mid-thigh so you stepped out of your jeans knowing your most intimate parts would still be hidden from view. You were laying your clothes over one end of the bed when you heard the bathroom door open behind you.

“All done-“ The gears of his mind came to a grinding halt the moment he saw you, bare-legged, in his shirt.

You turned to find the handsome homeowner standing just this side of the doorway, still holding onto the doorknob with his mouth hanging open. His brown eyes seemed to darken in the dimly lit room as they lingered on your form.

At the same time, your eyes drank him in as well. He wore a plain white sleeveless t-shirt that displayed the musculature of his tanned arms, but when your eyes settled on his dark grey sweats you discovered that the police officer had a mouthwateringly distinct dick print.

“Daichi?” you asked, your voice laced with concern. “Everything okay?”

His eyes snapped back up to meet yours as he cleared his throat. “I gotta say…my shirt looks better on you than it does on me.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” you said, still in a trance at the absolute behemoth pressing against the grey cotton, uncertainty swirling in your mind as to whether you should run towards it or away from it.

Daichi noticed where your eyes had fixated and knew you could see him. All the concentration he had been using to avoid popping a boner in front of you had disappeared along with your pants, allowing a wave of blood to rush straight to his cock. He silently chided himself for losing focus. He didn’t want you to think he was a creep - he really wasn’t! It’s just that even when he’s soft, his print doesn’t always go unnoticed. He would never be able to tell you how many times his friends ribbed him about it in the locker room back in high school.

‘Damn, Boss! You tryin’ to give the rest of us a complex?’ Ryu had said, and ‘Jesus fucking Christ, Daichi, ever heard of athletic tape?’ Noya had teased, or ‘No wonder you’re still a virgin, man!’ Suga had mused. The latter had been praying for you the moment you left his home with Daichi earlier.

It had been so long since you’d been with a man - too damn long. For the last few hours, ever since you first laid eyes on Daichi, you’d been entertaining the idea of getting in his pants. Seeing him like this now - strong arms, semi-hard cock, and a dark blush spreading across his cheeks - made it impossible to ignore the dampening heat between your legs. You took a tentative step towards him, his eyes following you.

“Daichi…” you murmured, looking up at him.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he said, strategically placing his hands in front of his still-growing bulge while averting his eyes in embarrassment. “This is completely inappropriate-” He trailed off when you took another slow step towards him.

“It’s okay. I…” As hard as your heart was pounding, you were sure he could hear it. “…I want you.”

He swallowed the dry lump in his throat as the two of you stared at one another for what felt like an eternity, holding your breath. On your next inhale, Daichi’s lips were on yours. Both of his large hands cupped your face as you melted into his warm kiss. Placing your hands on the hard plane of his broad chest, you could feel his heart beating a mile a minute.

One of his hands smoothed its way down your back and pulled you closer when his tongue teased the seam of your lips. You wasted no time at all, eagerly chasing his tongue back into his mouth. You moved your hands to the back of Daichi’s neck, sending a warm shiver down his spine when your fingers began to play at his hairline.

His arm tightened around your back, pulling you closer still. His huge erection brushed against your hip, making you sigh. God, he was so hard, your pussy throbbed for him.

Daichi’s hand moved from your jawline and into your hair before making a gentle fist in it. You dragged one of your hands over his shoulder and back down to his chest before grabbing a fistful of his shirt.

The officer pulled away briefly, panting as he grabbed his collar and pulled his shirt over his head before letting it drop to the floor. Your lust laden eyes trailed over his perfectly sculpted torso, your small hands settling just above his muscular hips as he slotted his lips with yours again. Daichi’s skin was set ablaze everywhere your fingers touched as they wandered around his waist and began to roam the expanse of his back.

He carefully guided you backwards until the backs of your legs touched the edge of his bed. He leaned over you as you laid down, opening your legs in invitation, which he gladly accepted.

With you wearing only his shirt and him wearing only his pants, Daichi planted his hands on either side of your head, caging you in as he lowered himself on top of you. Your hands fisted in his hair when his clothed erection pressed against your naked slit, drawing a desperate moan from you. You looked down between your bodies to see the dark pink head of his cock peeking out of the top of his sweats, glistening with precum.

Daichi’s eyes followed yours as he rolled his hips against you, devouring the sight of your naked pelvis matching his movements. You pulled him down into another hot kiss, but he didn’t stay long before his lips and tongue played along your skin as he made his way down your body.

He knelt between your legs and helped you into a sitting position, making quick work of ridding you of his shirt. You took the liberty of grabbing both his ass cheeks, thick with muscle, blazing a trail of kisses across his abs and appreciating the way they flexed under your lips and tongue.

“Mm, damn. Feels good,” Daichi rasped.

You looked up at him with lust-blown doe eyes to find him watching you while smoothing your hair away from your face. You brought your hands around to the front of his thighs, hard and thick with yet more muscle. Nearly every part of Daichi’s body, it seemed, was hard and thick. One of your hands ventured to his equally hard and thick shaft, a low groan escaping its owner when you squeezed it.

“Shit,” he hissed.

More pre oozed from his peekaboo tip and when you leaned in to swipe your tongue over it to taste him, Daichi’s knees suddenly felt weak. Fuck, he tasted amazing. You pulled his waistband down, freeing his cock only for your eyes to widen before looking up at him again.

“Jesus, Daichi…”

His big brown eyes filled with warm sympathy. “It’s okay, y/n, you don’t have t-”

His words trailed off into a moan when you wrapped your fingers around his shaft as best you could before swirling your tongue around his salty tip. No way were you about to pass up the chance to suck the biggest dick you’d ever seen in your life. Even if you could only fit the fat tip in your mouth, you were determined to suck Daichi’s soul from his slit.

Another, deeper moan rumbled in his chest when you took him in until your lips formed a tight ring just below the prominent ridge of his cockhead. You curled your tongue and flicked it across his frenulum, enjoying the way his fist tightened in your hair as you sucked him in a little deeper. You’d taken him less than halfway when he touched the back of your throat and with no room to breathe around him, you pulled back off of him as your hand massaged his shaft.

You looked up at Daichi again to find his intense gaze trained on you, his brow knitted and his lips parted. “S’it good?”

That handsome, crooked smile of his formed on his face as he nodded. “Fucking amazing.”

You smiled up at him before licking the latest batch of his pre, then sucked Daichi’s big cock into your mouth again. With your hand jerking off the length that wouldn’t fit, you worked him to the back of your throat again and held him there while you let the tip press its way in a little, quickly popping off him again with a mouthful of saliva as you caught your breath.

“Damn, y/n, you look incredibly hot taking my dick like that.”

You wrapped your lips around him once more and began bobbing back and forth on what little of his length you could take. You hollowed your cheeks, the suction quickly becoming too much for Daichi, who had thrown his head back.

After a couple more passes, he pulled out of your wet mouth, panting. “Keep that up and I won’t last…”

Looking up at him, you smirked and wiped your chin. “Isn’t that the point though?”

He kissed you, tasting traces of himself on your tongue as he leaned into you, forcing you to lay back down.

“You first,” Daichi breathed as his lips brushed the column of your neck, licking and sucking along the way until he reached your breasts.

He took the time to briefly tease your nipples with his tongue before continuing down to your navel. When his knees touched the floor beneath him, he hooked his hands behind your knees and pulled your butt to the edge of the bed. He placed your thighs over his shoulders, first one then the other, kissing and sucking at your flesh, quietly moaning at the flavor of your essence that had already soaked your skin. You squirmed a little, willing Daichi to glide his hot tongue between your folds when he pushed your legs open with his big hands.

“So pretty,” he said, looking up at you from under his brow. Damn, those eyes. So full of darkness and intensity, but also warmth and generosity.

Daichi kissed your clit tenderly, making you shudder as he traced your folds with the tip of his tentative tongue.

“Mmm…your flavor…” he groaned before tonguing your hole to taste more of you, making you gasp at the penetration.

He flattened his tongue and dragged its rough texture up to your clit before wrapping his lips around it and giving it a slight tug with suction.

“Oh god, Daich-“ The rest of his name was stolen from your lips by another gasp as you arched your back, threatening to lift your hips off his bed until Daichi’s strong hands forced your thighs back down onto his shoulders and held you in place. Daichi released your twitching bud only to give it several flicks of his tongue before swirling around it and sucking you back into his hot mouth, those warm chocolate eyes watching your pretty face twist with pleasure.

He pulled away just enough to run the pad of his middle finger along your slit and press your tiny button to collect some of your slick before pushing it inside you. You white-knuckled his hair and sighed, your whole body jerking slightly when your clit was once again encased in the soft heat of Daichi’s mouth. He thrusted his finger inside of you a few times before adding a second, his free arm keeping your hips pinned to the bed when you cried out.

“Fuck! OhmygodDaichi! I’m-mmm…” you whimpered, the searing coil within you drawing dangerously tight. He moaned his encouragement, the vibration blending with the movements of his fingers as they rubbed your rough spot within. “Mnnhh-Dai-oh god! You-I’m…fuck, I’m cumming!”

Daichi managed to stay latched onto your clit, sucking it with quick pulses as your orgasm washed over you, his shoulder flexing to keep you anchored to the bed until he was satisfied that you were spent.

With his gaze still fixed on you, Daichi released you and licked his lips before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He carefully lowered your weak legs from his broad shoulders and stood to push his sweats all the way off. You shifted around on his bed as he crawled in next to you, giving you a minute to regroup. He laid his arm over your own, which was draped across your belly, and left slow kisses along your shoulder and neck.

“You okay?” Daichi murmured next to your ear before gently nibbling its lobe.

A deeply satisfied grin made its way across your features as you nodded. “That was…” you chuckled. “There aren’t words to do it justice. I haven’t had my pussy eaten that good in years.”

Daichi’s head lifted slightly. “You serious?” he said with a hint of pity in his eyes.

Nodding, you rolled onto your side to face him. You placed your hand on his cheek and your eyes locked. There it was again…something in his warm brown eyes that made it impossible to look away for what seemed like eons. Your fingers brushed along his strong jawline and behind his ear to play at his hairline again. Daichi’s eyes slid closed as one corner of his sexy mouth curled into a mischievous grin.

“You drive me crazy when you play with my hair like that, y’know.”

“I can stop if you don’t lik-“ you started, pulling your hand away, but he caught it and kissed the inside of your wrist.

“I love it,” he said, his eyes opening to meet yours again before placing your hand back to where it had been before.

Your face flushed with heat again and your lips parted, somewhat taken with this man’s fearless candor. The vulnerability rising within you quickly began to overwhelm you. You needed a distraction. So, you kissed him. Hard. And he kissed you back even harder. Good.

You weren’t supposed to feel this way. You were supposed to be fucking the insanely hot cop, not gazing into the depths of his trustworthy eyes. He’s the enemy. He’s the enemy. He’s the enemy, you chanted in your mind. It required an increasingly conscious effort on your part to keep your heart out of this.

Daichi’s hard cock pressed against your thigh as he made his way between your legs again. You raked your nails across his back when his tip grazed your clit, still buzzing with the aftershocks of the earth-shattering orgasm he’d just given you.

He settled down with the underside of his shaft nestled neatly between your folds. You moaned in unison when you rolled your hips from below - the texture of his aching cock, the slick heat of your readied cunt.

Daichi rose to look you in the eye, something you were beginning to understand to be something of a language to him. “Can I?”

“God, yes, please.”

He reached between your legs to line himself up. Your thighs hugged Daichi’s hips when the thick head of his cock pressed against your opening. “Try to relax, y/n. If you want me to stop, just say so and we’ll put the brakes on everything.”

You nodded quickly and took a deep breath.

“Good girl,” Daichi cooed, rolling his hips forward just enough to push his tip inside. Your fingernails dug into his back as you inhaled sharply through clenched teeth. The stretch was so complete, so divine; painful yet the exquisite weight and fullness were unlike anything you had ever felt.

Daichi shuddered, his head falling forward between his arms, which were struggling to support his weight. He forced himself in a bit deeper.

“Fuck,” he groaned at the same moment you whimpered. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you gritted unconvincingly.

“Are you sure? You look like you’re in pain.”

“I’m okay, Daichi, just-mm-need a minute to adjust,” you assured him.

“I’ll wait as long - damn, you’re tight - as long as it takes,” he said, screwing his eyes shut.

But in truth, Daichi wasn’t sure how long he really had. You were squeezing him so hard, then relenting, then squeezing again, he was afraid you were going to milk his orgasm from him before he could properly fuck you. His dry spell had been excruciatingly long as well.

You could feel him throbbing against your walls as more of the stinging pain subsided. You rocked your hips ever so slightly, just enough to feel the texture of his veins and the ridge of his thick mushroom tip drag along your walls.

Daichi settled down onto his forearms, your tits pressing against his hard chest as he matched your depth and rhythm. Your pussy sucked on him hard with every retreat of his dick. He dropped his head to the crook of your neck as he rolled his hips more thoroughly, working himself deeper inside you.

“Oh god, Dai…” you gasped in his ear, “so fucking big.”

He gritted his teeth, drawing upon every ounce of restraint to keep from slamming into you and filling you up all at once. He kept his careful thrusts shallow, but that familiar white hot heat had been mounting at the base of his spine and it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold the flood back.

Shit, I’m gonna come too soon, he thought.

He tried to hold back. He really did. But between the gasps of his name, the viselike wet heat engulfing his heretofore neglected member, and the sound of his headboard beginning to thump against the wall, Daichi could no longer keep the levee from breaking.

“Shit…sorry, I can’t,” he winced, something between a groan and a whimper trying to claw its way out of his throat as he felt the coil snap, the weight of sexless months being relinquished from his heavy balls. “Fuck, 'm cumming, y/n,” he panted. You felt the twitching of his member, followed by the warmth of his semen as it spilled inside you.

“I’m so sorry,” Daichi sighed when he could speak again.

“It’s okay…”

He shook his head against your neck, too embarrassed and weak to look you in the eye quite yet. “No, it’s not.”

“Daichi, you made me cum harder than I have in literal years. I promise this is okay.” You wanted to tell him that no one had ever made you cum like he had, but then remembered that you were leaving your past out of this. Your future, too. This was only supposed to be for the moment.

With his chest still heaving against yours, Daichi said, “I haven’t been with anyone in almost a year. I promise I normally last longer than this.”

You chuckled quietly. “Maybe you will later, hm?”

He nodded, the sweat on his brow mixing with yours on your neck as he smiled weakly. “Definitely.”

Exhausted, Daichi rolled off of you, his thick seed sliding out of you in the wake of his softening cock.

Truth be told, you were a little disappointed. You’d gotten yours - that wasn’t the issue. It’s just that Daichi felt so amazing inside you and you didn’t want it to end so soon. You wanted to feel him again. You longed for more of him.

You lifted and moved so that Daichi could pull the cool, bamboo sheet over your bodies before securing your back against his humid chest. As the rhythm of his heart evened out, so did your breathing until both of you relaxed enough to drift off to sleep together.

ch. 3 ☆ ch. 5

31 days of daichi mlist | main daichi mlist | haikyuu mlist

☆ taglist: @chaoskrakenuwu @yuujispinkhair @luvkun4 @briokayama @mrs-sawamura @heroesfan101 @millenialfanfictionaddiction @lanaxians-2 @darthferbert @a-girl-cant-decide-on-a-name @cookiesandmilksx @strawberrystepmom @maexc @little-ms-awkward @samkysnks @anejuuuuoy @productivity-blogs @patheticliesblog ++ get added

[dollsonmain]

This is all I’ve peeled off so far. Most of the stickers are fine and don’t need removed and some of them that are very crooked don’t bother me because they’re on the outside of the house. One of the bed spread stickers on the bunk bed is long ago peeled a bit and dirty so won’t restick. I’ll have to put some fresh glue on it.

Um....

yeah I don’t know.

Some of those were so crooked I was too annoyed to leave it.

I got the microwave door off, but of course now I want to cut out the part that should be a window and put some plastic behind it or something, but then that would mean I have to build the inside of the microwave because it’s just a weird box right now.

I can’t figure out how to get the oven door off.

I can’t get any of the sticker residue off. Need to soak areas in T.A. to do that and kind of can’t due to the way it’s all put together.

Honestly I don’t understand the gingham stuff on top of the kitchen area. I guess it’s supposed to be wallpaper?? The only other segment of wall in there is the backsplash.

I did get the microwave door’s stress marks cleared off with the heat gun, and used the heat gun to help reset the bent faucet a little.

I’d like to paint the faucet silver but do not have any silver paint.

The phone sticker is way too small so I’ll probably try to make a new one. I don’t know if I have any sticker paper left, though. Oh, yeah, 1 letter sized sheet left... Not much margin for error.

I would like to remove the flat tea set and tulips sticker on the fireplace mantel and then sticky some tangible items there instead but then I need to do something to that wall so it’s not so blank.

But I don’t want to...... I did like Froggy’s craft foam stone wall. Maybe I could get some sticky craft foam sheets and do something like that.

Yay. More sticky.

I don’t like sticky.

HANNEDDYYYWAY now I have a little more freedom as to what colors I do things like the fridge even though the backsplash sticker is still in place and I’m not sure how to remove the oven door.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 02

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: you guys have been so extremely sweet with this new work i don’t even know how to thank you!! thank you so so much for supporting my writing, it always makes my day. i hope you enjoy xx

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N was laying in her new room right stuck in between the guest and Gwen’s bedroom. It was a rather bleak room if she was being honest. The walls were all white in exception to one of them that like the entrance was covered in floor to ceiling windows. There was little to no furniture in exception for a king sized bed, a white chest of drawers and a wall embedded wardrobe where she had put most of her clothes already. 

She wondered why a man of such income would like to be surrounded by such bleak colours. From what she had noticed his whole place was decorated in shades of grey and black with the occasional beige and white. Sure, it looked lovely, sleek even, something worth of being in the cover of an architectural magazine, but it wasn’t a home. A home had warmth, lived in sheets, walls and floors, this house however was ... was ghosted, almost as if no one lived in it. 

Rolling onto the comfortable white sheets, she took the contract into her hands, looking at the lettering on the cover itself. Y/N fully understood why he wanted all his employees to have a binding legal document, what she didn’t expect was to see the first line constricted her breathing. “The individual agrees not to follow any legal action against the employer in any circumstance”, it read. This was definitely not what was she expecting. 

     - Y/N? - she shoved the contract under her sheets as Gwen’s voice sounded through the room, her head peaking through the opening of the door. - What are you up to?

    - Not much. How are you? Do you enjoy the new room? - Sebastian had put her in a different room from his, something she had expected but still found odd. They were to be married after all and despite it all being a business move and transaction, it was still a valid marriage. However, none of them seemed to eager to at least try and create some chemistry. 

    - Boring. I need a favour, though. Please and when you decide remember you’re my oldest and best friend since we were babies. - Y/N knew that face and she did not like it. It was the same face that got them both stranded in the Carribean because she just needed to get to know some guy from the opposite terminal before catching the plane. However, she also knew Gwen to be a great driving force of making her do things she didn’t exactly want to do, so she decided to nod her head yes, already overwhelmed with the move and the contract. - I need to head out for a few minutes, could you cover for me?

     - What ... where are you going? 

     - I have a date. - she cheekily entered the room, closing the door behind her after checking if someone was in the hall. The redhead sat in front of her, a childish grin on her face as if she were in high school going out with the captain of the football team. - And he’s really sweet.

     - Gwen, you’re engaged. - the big sapphire in her left hand’s third finger was all she could look at. Of course Y/N wanted to be happy for Gwen, she really did and she really shouldn’t put too much effort in the thought that she was going to get married, after all it was just a strategy, but her mind was screaming at her that it wasn’t right. - Don’t you wanna at least give it a go before you completely give up?

     - No, I wanna go out with Chuck. - she took her engagement ring off, placing it on Y/N’s white sheets. - Please cover for me, please.

     - What if Sebastian notices you’re gone?

    -  He won’t because you’ll cover for me, besides, he probably won’t even leave his office. Please, Y/N? - Y/N sighed. What was the use of saying no if she was gonna leave any other way? Besides, if she were right and Sebastian didn’t leave his office, it should be alright. Losing whatever piece of resolve she has in her, she let out a soft smile, nodding her head yes which led the redhead to hug her with a death like grip. - It’ll one be for a few hours. I owe you one.

     -  I’m pretty sure you’ve own me one since we were one. - Gwen let out a celebratory chuckle before grabbing her bag and leaving Y/N on her own once again. 

The whole house was constantly silent, almost as if all the employees were scared of making a sound which when it came to the demanding presence of their boss, she wondered if that was the case. The only disruption of silence that could be heard was the soft rain against the windows which was enough to lull her to sleep. She would’ve possibly remained asleep if it hadn’t been for a slight knock interrupting her slumber. She took her head off her pillow, confused as if she had slept for so long, Gwen had returned. Another knock made her get from the bed, sleep still in her eyes as she opened the door to come face to face with one of the dressed up employees. 

    - Miss Y/N, dinner is served.

    - Just Y/N please. 

    - I believe it would be more of Miss Forrest’s comfort if you were to inform her dinner is ready. 

    - Oh ... Miss Forrest ... she’s, she’s not feeling very well. 

    - Should we call a doctor?

    - No, it’s just ... you know, that time of the month. - Y/N had the most nervous smile on her face, but as the man heard that specific term, he scrunched his face for a few seconds before returning to his normal formal and stoic posture. Maybe she had gotten away with it. - I don’t think she’ll want any dinner.

    - Oh, alright, would you still like to have dinner, Miss Y/N? - he questioned. She was rather hungry, after all, all she had before coming in was dinner and after sleeping she always awake up feeling like snacking, therefore dinner sounded like a good idea. 

She followed the man into the kitchen that similarly to the rest of the house had the same simple yet modern design to it. The floors were in the same shade of marbled black with few specks of grey, the walls were white with a black wooden backsplash and one of them had the same full amount of windows which gave a beautiful view of the Upper East Side. There were various balconies connected to the walls but the biggest one was in the middle where some chairs were laid. 

Y/N watched as a woman, probably middle aged, set the table. Just like the man who had brought her to the kitchen, she was dressed in sleek, working clothes with her hair held in a perfect bun up-do. 

     - I hope you like goat cheese and bistro salad, m’am. - she set a beautifully prepared plate in front of Y/N as she took a seat in the table. - I can prepare you something if you don’t like it, m’am.

     - No, it’s beautiful, thank you so much. - yes, she was used to living in some sort of high fashion style due to the environment she had brought up with but this, this was different. This was expensive in all sorts, from how the employees dressed, to the way the food was presented. However, Y/N noticed that instead of being surrounded by other people eating like it would normally occur at her prior home, she was instead surrounded by staff watching her eat, no Sebastian in sight. - Is Mr. Stan not joining us for dinner?

     - Oh no, m’am, Mr. Stan eats in his office. - the woman replied. 

     - What about you guys? Don’t you wanna eat? 

     - It’s fine, m’am. We’ll eat after you finish. 

     - Alright ... - Y/N pushed her plate slightly away from her, turning on her chair so she could face the two staff who were now staring at her as if she were any sort of threat. - Where me and Miss Forrest were raised, staff is treated just as well as family members. I don’t know what orders you follow from Mr. Stan but when you deal with me or Miss Forrest, you sit down and have dinner with us if you wish. 

The dinner went a bit better after she gained some company. The staff was sweet, very professional still but sweet nevertheless. After dinner and fighting a bit with the woman named Anna so she could help with the dishes, Y/N decided to walk around the house. Gwen still hadn’t returned and despite her countless messages sent to her, they were seen but not replied to. Thankfully, Sebastian hadn’t left his office as promised which meant she only had to lie whenever any member of staff would ask if she needed something. 

The penthouse was pretty much a regular place with more rooms than she could ever imagine with some being locked and others being open and perfectly decorated yet seemed to be non inhabited. However, what had sparked her interest was the very last room she checked. The room’s wall except for one were filled with book shelves which were filled itself with endless amounts of books. She looked around, wondering if someone was spying on her, before entering the room, her hands grabbing the first book she saw. The Great Gatsby. It sorta made her chuckle how that had been the first book she caught, the story of a wealthy man who lives by himself. The book itself was in rather good condition with the traditional blue cover with those unsettling eyes staring right back at her. She opened the book, her eyes going to the date of print making her realise what she was holding. April, 1925. A first edition. 

      - Looking for a good read, Miss Y/N? - she dropped the book out of surprise, not expecting the voice. Her head snapped in the sound’s direction, watching as Sebastian walked over to her, slowly crutching down to grab the book from the ground.

       - Are these all yours? - this was the biggest self collection of books she’d ever seen, it was somewhat hard for her to wrap around her head it belonged to a single person, specially first editions. 

       - My father made sure I got an expensive education. 

       - Have you read all of these? - her eyes widen at the mere thought of it. Just reading one shelf of books looked like it would take at least five years, at beast. 

       - Not all of them ... some are in Greek. - he couldn’t help but be entranced by her as she lowered her head to hide the small smile that settled itself on her lips. - Are you one for reading?

       - I majored in English Literature, reading was all I did for three years. 

       - Fits. - he put his hands on the pockets of his formal trousers. - You wouldn’t lie to me, would you Miss Y/N? 

       - I wouldn’t think of it, Mr. Stan. - Y/N wasn’t one for lying unless necessary, specially to someone who had a reputation for ignoring empathy and other human emotions. 

       - Where’s my fiancée, Miss Y/N? - the mere question knocked the air away from her. - And please do not use the same excuse you used with my staff. I know everything that goes on in this house and I know for a fact she’s not in her room. 

       - I ... I don’t know. 

       - I think you need to figure out where your loyalty lies, Miss Y/N. - he picked her chin, making sure she looked into his eyes. If there was something he knew was to intimidate someone with his gaze alone, however, she looked embarrassed to be caught in a lie rather than scared. - As my employee, you owe me your loyalty and the truth. 

     - My loyalty lies with Gwen ... not with you. - she took a step backwards. He sucked his teeth, arms crossed on his chest. - I don’t mean to disrespect you, Mr. Stan but ... Gwen’s my friend and my employee and I owe her my loyalty. 

     - You do realise that if Miss Forrest gets hurt it is you who’s gonna be held accountable. 

     - Please don’t be mad at Gwen. - she rubbed her arms. - She’s never really wanted to get married, at all, to no one. This is a bit of a change she has to adapt to.

     - Don’t flatter yourself, angel. Genevieve Forrest is not exactly the type of woman I’d personally chose to be with but I’m not being childish about it. If you wanna have a good time under my employment then you better reconsider telling me the truth.

taglist: @sideeffectsofyou​

[janicho88]

Fire, Fur & Mistletoe Chapter 3

Pairing- Eventual Dean x Female Reader.

Word Count-2,383

Warning- Mentions of: loss of parents, death, and fires.  Possible swearing. Slight angst. Fluff

Summary- A rewrite of the Nine Lives of Christmas, Hallmark movie. AU, Dean is a firefighter who doesn’t do commitment, the Holiday’s don’t mean much to him.  Coming home after a shift he finds a dog in trouble.  The reader is a veterinary student who works in a coffee shop trying to make it to graduation, until someone causes problems there for her.  She isn’t interested in finding anyone other than her own dog until after she finishes school.  Do their four legged friends have other plans?

A/N- This series is written for @spnchristmasbingo.  The square filled for this chapter is Christmas Tree  The first two chapters will stay closer to the movie than the rest will.  

This chapter also fills my entry for @supernatural-love14​,100 Followers writing challenge.  Prompt - I don’t remember the last time I truly enjoyed Christmas.

This has its own tag list and it is open.  That way I am not tagging anyone who doesn’t want to be tagged in Christmas stories.   This story is unbeta’d.

Header by the amazing @winchest09

Divider from freepngimg.com

Series Masterlist

To say you were surprised to end up at an elementary school would be an understatement.    Dean’s group of fascinating people were the kindergarten classes. He even had plastic fireman hats for them, and of course an extra one for you. 

The kids were so caught up in his speech about fire safety and the important things to remember if there ever is a fire.  He was so good with them and kept them all interested.  He finished his presentation talking about Christmas trees and how they should all make sure their parents keep them watered, so the lights don’t catch them on fire. 

Dean took questions at the end.  Some of the boys wanted to know what it was like to drive the fire truck, someone asked if it was fun to slide down the pole.  They were disappointed when Dean told them there wasn’t one where he worked.  One little girl at the end ran up and gave him a great big hug before you guys left.  He was so adorable with her. 

When you left there Dean asked if you were interested in helping him pick out tiles for the kitchen backsplash.  You didn’t have anything else to do and had been enjoying helping him with the house so you agreed. 

Getting to the store he had three different ones selected and had you help him decide.  After the paint he trusted your opinion on the color selection.   

They had enough in stock of your choice to let you two get started on it when you got home.  The rest would be in soon.  You had a system worked out, you put the mastic on the back and Dean applied the tile to the wall. 

That afternoon Dean headed into work for another 24 hour shift. The second call of the afternoon was for a house fire.  Thankfully for the residents it was mostly contained to one room, just the living room.  But that room had a bit of damage done.

Hoping out of the truck back at the station he asks, “Okay who seriously is going to BBQ a turkey in the fireplace.  And plan on doing it twice because this was just going to be a test run before Christmas?”

“It’s the Holidays,”  Bobby stated.  “People are going to be doing crazy things.  You’ve been here a few years don’t you know this by now.”

“That is true.  Y/N and I were talking about that earlier after we left the school presentation.”

“Wait, WE, left the presentation?  Did you take her with you?”  Benny wanted to know.

“Well,”

“She’s living with him now, didn’t you know that?” Sam asks him.

“What, really?”  Benny couldn’t believe it.

“She moved in a couple days ago.”

“Wow, you two move fast.”

“It’s not like that you idiots.  She got kicked out of her condo and had nowhere else to go, and she already got fired because of me.  I’m just giving her a place to stay till she figures things out.  The house has the room.  Our dogs get along great.”

“Is that why Miracle isn’t here?”  Cas wants to know.

“Yeah, Y/N’s taking care of him and Dean. He’s falling in love.”

“Who Dean or Miracle?” Cas questions Sam.

“Dean, probably both.  She is very easy to like.”

“You’ve met her, besides that day she was in here?”  Benny wanted to know.

“Yeah, Dean called me to help move her.”

“I would have helped the nice pretty girl move, why didn’t you ask me to help?”

“I’m not sure packing would have been the only thing you tried with her, Benny.  I just found her again, I’m not letting you scare her off.”

“He didn’t deny the love.”  Sam says with a smile. 

“I’m not falling in love with anyone, bitch.”  Dean shakes his head at the whole thing as he removes his gear. 

“I’m sorry, my jerk of a brother, is falling in love, but he doesn’t know it yet.”

“That can’t be true Dean, come on man.  I look up to you, playing the field avoiding commitment, a constant string of beautiful women.”

“It’s not true, we aren’t falling in love, not dating.  I still don’t do commitment, and never getting married.”

“So what are you doing with Miracle if you don’t do commitment?”  Bobby asks as he takes off his coat.”

“Temporary long termish house guest.”

“Uh huh.”

“I told him when the house is sold he’s on his own.”

“Let us know how that works out in a couple of months, you idjit.”

“I’m calling your bluff with the girl.  Can you say no to these three things.”

“Really Cas?”

Cas ignores Dean and continues on, “ You live with her?  That’s a yes.  Two, you spend all your free time with her? Yes.”

“Well.”

“Three, you think about her when you aren’t with her? Yes,”

“No, no, you have it all wrong.  Like I said she is only staying till she gets back on her feet.  We are getting to know each other so we hang out, but only  because she’s already there.”

“Getting to know each other like you would if you were dating someone?”

“Shut it Sam.”

“Are you saying he is falling in love?  The legend, is human after all?”  Benny questioned.

“No, I’m not falling in love.  Y/N is a temporary roommate.  That’s it.”

“Man, you are like five minutes away from marrying this girl.”  Sam tells him.

“I hate you all.”  Gear off Dean leaves them behind to take a shower.

“Keep telling yourself that!”  Bobby yells after him.

Wandering around Dean’s house alone while he was at work, you got to thinking.  There was one thing you were really missing this close to Christmas, and it was something you didn’t think you would be able to have this year.  A Christmas tree.

When Dean gets home the next afternoon you bring it up.

“I was wondering if you were going to get a Christmas tree this year?”

“Usually don’t.  I don’t think I’ve had one in a few years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t seen a reason too.  I buy a house, fix it up and sell it.  Usually I don’t stay in one long enough.  I don’t do much for the Holidays.  Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking maybe we could get a tree?  I have a little artificial tabletop tree, but wouldn’t it be nice to have a real one?  To have that Christmas smell when you walk in the door?”

“If you like real ones so much why didn’t you already have one in your place?”

“It was against the bylaws. Apparently too much of a fire liability.”

“That didn’t stop you with Dakota.”

“The tree can’t be hidden quickly like she was.  She was worth risking it for.”

“You really want to get a tree?”

“Please, it helps it feel more like Christmas.  If you don’t want one I understand.”

Dean threw his head back and sighed.  “Fine we can go get a tree.  I think there is a tree lot near the station that hasn’t sold out yet.”

“Let’s go to a tree farm, get the whole experience.”

“You’ll be the death of me Sweetheart.”

Dean didn’t have to work at all the following day, so after breakfast the two of you headed out to the Christmas tree farm.  Dressed in warm clothes and boots you were ready to walk all around the 8 acre tree farm if you needed to, just to find the right tree.   There was a wagon ride that took you around to the different types of trees.  Dean and you got off in the back lot figuring you could walk your way toward the entrance. 

“There’s a tree,”  Dean points out as you start walking down the first row.

“Yes, and it’s also like four foot tall.  It’s still growing, let the baby be.”

“Okay, miss Christmas tree expert.  How do you pick the perfect Christmas tree?”

“It’s really pretty scientific you know.”

“Oh really? Please do explain it to me.”

You laughed at his expression. He had turned to you with wide eyes and a cheeky little grin.  Like he was going to absorb whatever you said.  “You dork.”  Heading over to a tree you reach for a branch pulling your hand back toward you slowly.  “First you need to check the freshness.  If the needles stay on when you do that it’s good.”

You drop your hand to the side, “Then you need to inhale deeply and see how it smells.”

Dean did just that, “It smells like a tree.”

“Okay, but does it smell Christmassy.”

“Christmassy?  Pretty sure you just made that word up.”  

“Nope it’s totally in the dictionary.”

“Okay, Webster.  Then what does it mean?”

“To be filled with Christmas spirit.”

Dean just stared at you for a moment.  “You think a tree is going to smell like it’s filled with Christmas spirit?  Just wondering if you were drinking before I got up this morning?”

“Oh come on, it’s that fresh cut pine smell that fills the whole place and makes it feel like Christmas.”

“Whatever you say, I’ll leave the nose work to you.  What is step three?”  He wants to know as you two walk down the lane looking at the trees around you.

“The lean test.  You need to look at a tree straight on, then lean to the right and to the left, then stand back up straight.  You don’t want a tree that is leaning too hard one way and is crooked.”  You stop to inspect a tree, but continue on down your way.

The fourth step is checking the trunk and making sure nothing is wrong with it.  Sometimes the tree might be straight but that isn’t.  Or it could have a double one that won’t fit in a tree stand.”

“Height is important too.  Your ceilings are fairly high so we could get a foot tree no problem.”

Dean is just smiling listening to you go on about trees while you walk through the lot. “Yep that is extremely scientific.”

You two stopped and looked at different ones but kept going.  There was one you stuck a stick up in top of to mark if you didn’t find anything else you liked. Around an hour into your search you stopped in your tracks.  Dean was lost in his thoughts and took him a moment to notice.  

“That’s the one.”

“The one?”

“Yep, that’s the tree we should get.”

“There is only one?  How do you know it’s the one? What if you are wrong, but you’ve already committed to it?  What happens then, fighting and hurting the kids?”

“You lost me, Dean.”

“I um,”  He just realized what all came out of his mouth. “I  mean it’s a great tree.  Let’s get that one.”

“You sure you are alright?”

“Yep great.  Hold that steady, till I need you to push a little, will you?”

While you were helping to hold the tree from moving too much Dean got on the ground and started sawing back and forth till he had it lying on the ground.  You couldn’t help but notice the muscles in his arms as he worked. 

The two of you carried the tree toward the path in the hopes the wagon would be around soon and you wouldn’t have to carry it all the way to the front.  Thankfully only about five minutes later you could hear it coming around.  Up at the front they shook and bagged the tree for you.  

They also had Santa, and some petting animals around.

“Did you want to go tell Santa your Christmas wish?”  You asked Dean.

“You know, I already saw him this year.  He and I are pretty tight.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

After seeing the animals you hopped in his truck and headed to the store.  Neither of you had a stand that would fit the newly bought tree.  With that accomplished you were on your way back to the house.  Getting the tree inside it was set up in the living room not to far from the fire place, but not near enough to catch any sparks that may pop out. 

Dean didn’t have any decorations in the house, but you had some you had been saving.  After the lights were on you went to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate for the two of you and pulled out some of the peanut butter blossom cookies you made the day before.  Coming back Dean still hadn’t turned on the tv so you asked if you could.  Finding the different music channels you finally came across a Christmas one.

The two of you were enjoying the music and each other’s company as you decorated the tree. 

It was late afternoon by the time everything was done and cleaned up.  You offered to start dinner and Dean came in to help you.  The two of you working easily in the newly finished kitchen. 

After dinner you two retired back to the living room turning off the lights in the room and just letting the tree shine.  There was a roaring fire going, The Santa Clause 2 playing on tv.  Chet had to be one of your favorite reindeer in training. It was very relaxing.  

After the movie Dean mutes the television and turns to you.  “Thank you for suggesting the tree.  It’s actually really nice to have it.  I don’t remember the last time I truly enjoyed Christmas.  My parents fought a lot when we were little after the fire, before and after separating.  After we lost them it was just Sam and I.  Both of us just worked double shifts on Christmas at the station so others could have the time off.  Now Sam has Jess so he works part of the day, but doesn’t do a double anymore so he can spend time with her and her family.

He looks around at the decorations on the mantle, “I wouldn’t be opposed if you had some other small decorations you wanted to get out too.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I have that won’t be in the way.”

He turns the volume back up and the two of you settle back to watch another movie.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 4 

Tags- @winchest09  @waywardbeanie @whatareyousearchingfordean  @flamencodiva @deanwanddamons @jensengirl83 @abuavnee @lunarmoon8 @amyzombie1013 @akshi8278 @that-one-gay-girl @mandalou29  @igotmadskills

[starstruckmyths]

Steve and Bucky being stress bakers. Some bad shit happens in the world and they punch at too much dough ending up with a bakery worth bread.

Stressssssss bakkerrssssssssss

I’ve probably said it already, but I’ll say it again: Steve admitted to being a shitty cook in Endgame, but every part in me knows that he’d make a brilliant baker. Steve is a super-soldier, so he would be really precise. 

My mom once told me, "Cooking is about feeling. Baking is about getting everything exactly right". 

Cooking is about trying out, it’s about what you like, adding more or less spices, sweet or sour or salty. Steve probably doesn't really have the cooking-gut-feeling, so he wouldn't be good at it. On the other hand, Steve is amazing at being precise. He would follow the recipes to the letter. Bucky would as well. They’re both soldiers, both have wielded weapons, and both have been in situations where they cannot lose any focus or everyone dies. So they’re really good at estimating how much sugar a “spoonful” is ;)

And then now, I will write you a little piece. 

|X|

The Avengers weren’t home, and Steve was sitting around in the comfy armchair, staring at his drawing pad but nothing came out of his pencil. It just... refused to let him draw anything. 

Bucky was still asleep, bundled up in the bedroom after one of the worst missions Steve had ever been on. It had not been particularly gruesome or nasty, but the bad guy had gotten away, he had fallen into a muddy ditch, Tony had crashed into a tree, Sam nearly got caught in some power lines, Clint had gotten his foot stuck in a hole in the ground, and Bucky had been hit by a car. 

All in all, a pretty laugh-worthy mission. 

And now here he was, his head still not entirely right and Bucky sleeping off the pain of his cracked ribs. He was frustrated. And hungry. He did not really feel up to anything, or rather he did, but he was not sure what that was. He wanted to eat something, a snack of some sort. Perhaps a cookie. Something sweet. Were their any cookies left or had the rest of the team gotten them all?

Steve pushed himself up out of the armchair and left his drawing pad on the coffee table, strolling over towards the kitchen where he pulled open some cabinets and looked for the cookie tin. Ah, there it was. As soon as he opened it, he scrunched his nose. Three tiny biscuits and a bunch of crumbs. Sighing loudly, he ate the last three cookies and thumbed the crumbs from the tin. Now it was really empty, and boy did that suck. 

“That’s not nearly enough,” he mumbled to himself, and he turned around to the counter. 

He looked in a few more cabinets, trying to lower his standards to what he was willing to eat, until he found a book. A cookbook. Steve made a curious noise, and pulled the thing out. Cooking was not really his thing, but he had often helped his mom bake, so perhaps he could make something out of that. It really was two birds with one stone: with the book, he could distract himself and get himself some more snacks. Win-win. 

It couldn’t go wrong, he just had to do what the book said and he would be fine. The book seemed to be more focused on baking than cooking anyway, so he was golden. There was a whole list of things to make, a bunch of cakes and other sweet snacks, but mostly cookies. Cookies with apple, chocolate, jam, nuts, honey, cinnamon, and more. 

This wasn’t a cookbook, this was a cookie-book.  

He had most of the ingredients, so that was a plus. Now, he only had to pick one kind of cookie from the list, and he was good! Only, they all looked so good. The one with apples, and with honey, and nuts... he picked the one with chocolate. He was feeling something for chocolate at the moment. 

And so he grabbed himself the flour, eggs, milk, oil, chocolate, and baking powder. He put the book against the backsplash of the kitchen, so he could read along as he went. He put the ingredients together and mixed it all with a spoon to get rid of at least some of his pent-up energy. 

“Let the dough rest for half an hour,” Steve read from the book. He scrunched up his nose again, deeper this time, and read the sentence another time. Half an hour. Half an hour? What was he supposed to do in the meantime?! Wait around? 

Stuffing the dough into the oven, he huffed in annoyance, lying his head in his neck as he tried to think of something he could do while waiting a whole half hour. 

But wait!

Instead of waiting around, he could bake the other cookies! Cookies with apple, with cinnamon, with peanut butter, jam, and all the others! That way, he could keep baking even when he had to wait for the dough! They had ovens and space to spare, so no one would mind, really. Steve pulled his stuff together and went to work straight away. 

Half an hour passed. 

Dough went in and out of the oven. 

The pile of flour and eggs became smaller and smaller, but Steve barely noticed as his stack of cookies only grew. 

He baked, and he baked, and he baked, without even looking at the clock. 

The whole kitchen smelled of fresh cookies, molten chocolate, and more. It had drawn Bucky to the kitchen, bandages wrapped around his chest, and he joined in. With the combined power of two super soldiers kneading and stirring the dough, cutting apples and chocolate, piling cookie after cookie after cookie onto the oven racks, they worked down the list cookie by cookie.

The entire counter was filled with all kinds of delicious things, crumbs and nuts and chocolate and honey and peanut butter and more. Another half an hour went passed, and then an hour, and then double that! There was flour on their faces, stains on their aprons, the cookbook was sticky, peanut butter in their hair, but neither Steve or Bucky paid it any mind as they baked as if their life depended on it. 

It turned dark outside, the sun dipping behind the horizon, but neither of them noticed, too caught up in their baking spell to stop. 

Then, late in the evening, the Avengers returned home, tired and worn out from their duty, some of them (Clint and Tony) were a little grumpy. There was light still coming from the kitchen, and as soon as the doors of the elevator opened the team was hit in the face by the taunting smell of cookies, cinnamon and honey. 

“Great,” Clint grumbled, “Now I’m hungry.”

“You think they left some for us?” Sam asked, standing on his near tiptoes as he took another deep breath, closing his eyes as he did so. 

Natasha was the first to step forward and out of the elevator. “Let’s hope they did.”

The very moment they stepped foot into the kitchen they were met with a sight that was both many’s personal wonderland, but also an almost terrifying one. 

Somehow, the entire kitchen was filled with stacks, heaps and piles of cookies. The entire counter save for a few tiny gaps was filled with cookies. Big cookies, small cookies, cookies with apple and honey and peanut butter, pale cookies, dark cookies. There were cookies on the cupboards, on top of the fridge, there were even cookies laid out on newspapers on the floor. And in the middle, Bucky and Steve were moving around, seemingly still baking. 

They thought they had to be dreaming. 

“Wha- wha-” Tony stumbled, “What have you done?”

Steve lifted his head from the book, his eyes slightly wider than could be normal, and he stared with the gaze of a man who had seen terrible things. In his arm, he clutched a bowl, holding it tightly as his other hand moved around a large spoon. “We baked some cookies.”

Bucky turned around, a fresh batch in his hands, holding it out towards the others. “Want one?”

|X|

Please forgive me, Nonnie. 

[gothgirlmahi]

Princess Chapter 3

Dark!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: forced age regression, nightmares, non con, blood

You woke up screaming. Red blinded your vision even after you came to your senses. You’d had plenty of nightmares since coming here but none as vivid as the last. Bucky’s hand around your throat and your blood splattered across the ground. Looking to see the white sheets of your bed stained in blood fed your hysteria.

Seconds later Bucky was running through the door and you sobbed when you saw him. You couldn’t stop crying. You were tired. Sore. Upset and frustrated and now you were bleeding. Of course your period would have come along sometime but now? While you felt at your lowest? Bucky’s eyes widened when he took in the sight of the blood. You could see the gears in his was turning as he made the connection that you weren’t bleeding because were hurt.

“Hey, baby. Calm down, okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”

He approached you cautiously but you could only see a blurry outline of him through your watery eyes. His arms wrapped around you and you didn’t fight back. A hand rubbed down your back gently.

“Shh. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Bucky had never been this soft with you. Being wrapped in his arms gave you the human contact you had been craving. You were touch starved for any kind of affection and you were distraught enough that you’d even take it from your captor. Bucky was strong and warm, something about him in that moment made you feel safe even though you knew he was the only threat around.

Once your sobs had died down, you went limp in his arms. Bucky pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“We’re gonna get you cleaned up, okay?”

You didn’t give him a reply. You couldn’t think of anything to say.

He picked you up from the soiled sheets and carried you to the bathroom. From there he turned on the shower and helped you in. When you made no move to wash yourself, he started doing it for you.

Everything in you felt numb. Like there was no point anymore. Like fighting back would be useless. If you just let him do what he wanted, he probably wouldn’t hurt you again. If you complied with his fantasy, maybe things wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe.

Bucky washed you carefully and methodically. No sexual advances were made, his only goal seemed to clean you up. After he was done, he dried you off with a towel and pressed a kiss to your cheek. When he pulled a pair of clean underwear and a pack of pads from underneath the sink, you almost felt crazy. Those certainly hadn’t been there before so he probably put them there at some point while you slept. Thinking of Bucky in the room with you while you slept wasn’t a good thought so you brushed it aside.

As Bucky helped you into the underwear, you realized what this must look like to him. Submission. Resignation. You were being dependent on him just how he wanted. Letting him take care of you. He picked you up again and you supposed he would take you back to your bed. When he left the bathroom, he didn’t stop though. He carried through the door on the other side of the room.

Your eyes lit up with the sight of an open door at the top of a staircase. Passing the threshold left you in awe. A beautifully furnished house with yet another staircase going to another floor. The living room was an open space with a large TV and a nice couch. The kitchen was on the opposite side but all you could see was the intricate backsplash before Bucky was carrying you up the next set of stairs.

“There’s something I’ve been working on for you,” he said as he carried you through the hallway. He pushed open a door to your right and a rainbow of colors met your eyes. Bucky sat you on an amazingly plush bed and you turned in every direction to take in your surroundings.

The first thing you noticed was all the stuffed animals. A pink unicorn, a brown teddy bear, and many others littering the bed and shelves. The bedsheets had little gold crowns on them and the word princess types out in pink as a pattern. On the desk across the room you could make out a stack of coloring books. The toy box in the corner sent a special type of unease up your spine and you had to take a breath to calm yourself.

The fear inside you steadily built as your eyes perused the room, before your gaze was once again fixed on Bucky. His expression was neutral as he sat next to you.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” he trailed off, thinking. Your hands were balled into fists with your nails digging into your palms.

“When I met you, I thought you were perfect. And you are. Now you’re mine. You are going to be my perfect little girl and I’m going to take care of you. You’ll never have to worry about anything as long as you listen to me.”

The mounting terror in your expression must have been obvious because Bucky smiled and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry. This won’t be so scary. All you have to do is listen to me. I think you’re ready now. I don’t have a lot of rules. You’re not allowed to leave, you have to speak respectfully to me so no cursing unless I’m inside you, you have to call me Daddy and you have to do what I say when I say it.

Your tucked your shaking hands under your thighs while Bucky stood from the bed and walked to a dresser. He dug through the drawers for a bit before pulling out a short pink nightgown and bringing it back to you.

“I’m going to go make you something to eat. I want you to put this on. Do you need Daddy to help you?”

“No,” you stammered out nervously, “I can do it.”

Bucky smiled and pressed a kiss to you head before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Your mind was alight with panic. You knew Bucky had issues but this was absurd. And he thought you were perfect, perfect enough to be locked in his house and unwillingly take part in his fantasy. No matter what you did, you couldn’t calm down. Breathing exercises weren’t helping and you really wanted to scream. Your cheeks were wet with silent tears and you swiped your palms against your face, trying to wipe them away.

By the time he came back, your eyes were still burning from the remnants of tears and you knew your eyes had to be red from your sobbing. Bucky gave you a pitying look that made you a little angry and a little more hopeless.

He was holding several things on a tray and began to unload them. A sandwich on a plate, uninteresting, but much better than plain oatmeal. He put it on your nightstand along with a glass of juice you were immediately suspicious of. The things you didn’t expect were a heating pad and a single pill that you instantly recognized as pain medication. You were unsure how to feel about that.

When you grabbed the sandwich and began to eat, Bucky just watched you for a while. Just as you were finishing he sat down next to you again.

“If you start feeling cramps or pain or anything you can take the medicine when you’re ready.”

“Okay. Thank you.” You don’t know why you thanked him. It seemed somehow appropriate and abhorrent at the same time.

“I’ll show you where the bathroom is. You’re only allowed to go there and back to your room. Maybe soon I’ll let you into the rest of the house.”

You nodded. The two of you were silent for a moment. You reached over to take a sip of the juice. It was sweet and fruity but you couldn’t identify what fruit. Probably the artificial kind. It left a bad aftertaste and you made a face.

“You don’t like it? Sorry. I’ll give you something better later.”

You couldn’t fashion a reply to that statement so you decided to ask a question.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead,” he said with no hesitation. He looked a bit curious at what you were going to say.

You wanted to word your question carefully so he didn’t get upset.

“What happens when you need to go on a mission?”

“Oh,” he looked a bit relieved as he spoke, “don’t worry about that. I’m retired.”

“I see.”

“I know this is hard to adjust to, but I just want you to know, this went well for you. Other girls haven’t been so lucky.”

Your face fell.

“Other girls?”

Bucky turned away, looking a bit pained, like he was recalling a bad memory. His jaw tensed before he stood up again.

“Don’t worry about it.”

He left.

Masterlist // Chapter 4

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Lost Time

Chris becomes your temporary roommate. You think all he sees you as is a little sister, but when the rest of the world starts to notice how close you are, you can’t help but wonder if there’s something more there.

-

           “You look like you’ve been through hell,” you pointed out as Chris took a seat in the makeup trailer beside you. His makeup artist was on the way, and he looked like he needed it. His eyes were exhausted, his body was slumped over slightly, and you could tell that his head had nothing in it.

           “Yeah, you’re telling me,” he sighed. “The house flooded last night in that storm. Insurance guys have been there since sunrise.”

           “Ouch,” you responded.

           “And they said it’ll be a week before they can get me back in there. If not longer.”

           “You can stay with me,” you volunteered. He scoffed, rubbing his eyes. “Really, Chris. I have a guest bedroom that I don’t even use. Don’t pay for a hotel or something. I’m right down the street, too.” He looked at you, thinking you were joking, but you weren’t. You were completely serious.

           “Are you sure?”

           “Yeah. Just take my key and get settled in since you finish before me today.” You reached for your key ring and handed him the apartment key. This was a definite role reversal; it was usually Chris that was taking care of you, making sure you ate, helping you move furniture around or helping you fix your car, because you were all but his little sister when it came to things like that. But this time, he needed you, and you’d be there.

           “Thanks, Y/n,” he said. “You’re a lifesaver.” You looked at the time and saw you were due back on set, so you stood up and walked out of the trailer. You sent Chris your address, even though you knew he already had it, and the code to get into the apartment complex. He said he was heading over soon so you just went on about your day.

           When you got home that afternoon he was already settled in – you could see that he’d brought a few bags over, just enough to get him through until he could go home again, and he was cooking in the kitchen you’d used a total of three or four times.

           “I honestly didn’t even know that oven worked,” you remarked as you saw him pre-heating it. You were only half joking. “What are you making?”

           “Lasagna. I got groceries. I figured the least I can do is cook for you.”

           “Why didn’t I get another roommate?” You wondered out loud. Chris chuckled. “I’m going to take a shower.” You went into your bathroom and took a shower, then headed back out to the kitchen.

           “You really need some more plates,” Chris said as he watched you emerge from your bedroom. “And some silverware that isn’t plastic. And you should probably have more than one pan, too.” You rolled your eyes.

           “I’m 22, Chris, people in my generation don’t cook. I have three plates, that’s enough.”

           “People in mine do,” he replied, “and while I’m here you will never starve.”

           “My hero.” You reached into the fridge to see that he had gotten groceries, and that most of them would be absolutely no use to you after he left. He had gotten you some more beer, thankfully, and you grabbed two of them. You’d had a long day of stunts and the only thing you wanted was some food and alcohol.

           You set the table with two sets of plastic everything, further proving Chris’s point that you needed to get some real silverware, and helped him bring the food over. You talked mostly about his house and the fact that it was a few thousand dollars worth of damage, but luckily he’d gotten home in time to move the more valuable stuff up to the second floor. He had just picked out his backsplash three months ago and was having to do it all over again. You felt bad, really bad.

           “I’m sorry I’m being such a bummer,” he said as he handed you a plate to start washing in the sink. Conveniently, your dishwasher was broken. “But thanks for letting me stay here. It means a lot.” He gave you a little smile and you just made it a point to hit his shoulder with yours.

           “That’s what friends do,” you said with a shrug. You finished doing the dishes and with a friendly hug, he was excusing himself. “By the way, the water knobs in your bathroom are switched. Use the cold for hot and hot for cold. I’ve been meaning to get it fixed.” He shrugged.

           “I’ll take a look at it over the weekend. Thanks.” He put a hand on your back and you watched as he walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs. You finished putting the leftovers up for lunch tomorrow, putting the few clean dishes you had away, and went to bed on your own.

           You quickly grew used to having Chris around. You had someone to drive to and from with, you had someone to watch stupid movies with, and you had someone to cook dinner. It was nice. Really nice. So nice that even when he was able to go back to his house, he stayed with you an extra nice. And then he asked you if you wanted to split hotels during the press tour, since most of your interviews were scheduled together, and of course you said yes. You loved hanging out with him. And as you did, you slowly realized that you had a crush on him. You knew he obviously didn’t feel the same way about you, and you definitely weren’t going to confront him about it. You assumed he just saw you as a little sister – that’s what you really would be, anyway, with such a dramatic age gap. So when he came out in just a towel your first night there, you couldn’t help but scan up and down his chest as he reached for clothes in his bag. You just kept scrolling through your phone, looking at some of your mentions on Twitter.

           “Good news and bad news,” you said eventually as he finally emerged from the bathroom for the last time.

           “Ooh, do tell. Bad news first.”

           “Bad news is that I didn’t realize how bad the zit on my chin was until someone posted about it,” you started. He chuckled. “And the good news is that the internet loves our friendship and wants to see the rest of the press tour.”

           “What, were you worried about it?” You shook your head.

           “Not really, no. I think we’re friends.” Chris smiled at you, his award-winning, nominated for the sexiest man alive smile, and took a little bit too long to answer you.

           “Besties, right?” You rolled your eyes.

           “Are you done in the bathroom?”

           “Yep.” You stood up, only realizing that your shorts were shorter now that you’d been sitting, and they literally exposed almost your entire ass. But Chris wasn’t looking, thankfully, so you didn’t mention it. You just shoved the shorts in the bottom of your bag the next day, hoping they wouldn’t make an appearance.

           You and Chris only continued to get closer over the course of the press tour – you would gradually sit close to each other until his arm was around your shoulder during interviews, or he would always put a hand on your back to let you walk in front of him. He would always introduce you to interviewers first, or let you get into the car first. He brought you coffee and he knew exactly how you liked it, and if you tried to Venmo him for it he would just give it right back. The last interview of the press tour was a night on Jimmy Fallon, and it was safe to say that you were nervous as hell.

           “You’re going to be fine,” Chris said to you as the stage assistants hooked a microphone to his waist. “You look beautiful. And you’re a natural, you’ll be fine up there.” You looked down at the heels you were wearing. They were far too expensive to be your own, but you liked them. They made you almost tall enough to touch Chris’s shoulders without standing on your toes.

           “I’m just so nervous still,” you replied, “I’ve never done a talk show before.” Chris walked over to you when they finished him and pulled you in for a quick hug.

           “You’re gonna do amazing. Just look at me if you need help, okay? We went over most of the questions earlier in the car, remember?” You nodded. His large hand splayed across your back, trying to make you feel better. “You want me to hold your hand on the way out?”

           “Chris!” You laughed.

           “I’m serious!”

           “CHRIS EVANS, Y/N, ON IN A MINUTE! PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE STAGE!” The intercom said loudly. Chris offered you his hand, and you took it. He walked beside you, not in front of you or behind you, and that was your first indication that maybe you weren’t crazy and maybe he liked you too. He held your hand all the way until you were walking on stage, when he just smiled at you and said you’d be fine. He let you go first, and like you had in interviews before, you ended up so close to him that his arm was behind you on the couch.

           “You two are kind of mortal enemies to begin with in the movie, do you think that speaks true to your relationship at all when you were filming?”

           “Oh, God, no,” Chris replied, “from the moment I met her I knew she was going to be one of my favorite people. And my house actually flooded a couple months ago so we were temporary roomies there and we’ve been together on the press tour mostly just because it’s so much cheaper and easier on the studio, so I’d say we’re pretty good friends.” Jimmy smiled.

           “Well, now that you think you’re pretty good friends, I’ve actually got a game for you. Chris, you’ve played this before, only you knew it as Know Your Bro. For the two of you, Y/n, if I could just get you to put these headphones on…” You aced the game, as you expected, and Chris only got one question wrong. It finally ended and as soon as you got back to the hotel you were staying at, you passed out. And you woke up the next morning, the morning of the premiere, to a million or so Tweets and tagged posts.

           You rolled over to see that Chris was still in bed, scrolling on his phone. He smiled when he saw you.

           “I’m Postmating some coffee in, do you want the usual?”

           “Thank you.” You sat up a little, starting to go through your phone. Oh, no. People really took what Chris said to heart. As in, they thought you were together. The entire world thought you were together, citing multiple interviews, the way Chris was always holding you somehow, the way he was always talking about you, and what he’d said last night on Fallon. Even your sister texted you asking if you were dating.

           “Oh, my God,” you said out loud.

           “What?” He asked.

           “People think we’re together.”

           “Yeah, I figured that might happen. Just ignore it and we’ll say something about it tonight at the premiere, alright?”

           “Chris, you’re literally my date to the premiere.” He shrugged.

           “So? Let people think what they wanna think. And, besides, would it really be that bad to pretend like we’re dating? You’re breakin’ my heart here.” You laughed.

           “No, I guess not.” Chris’s phone chimed about the coffee.

           “I’ll be back up in a minute.” Chris got back with the coffee, handing you yours, and you watched a quick episode of what was on TV before starting to get ready. You were being put in separate suites at a different hotel to get ready, and you had to admit that you were having not only regular anxiety but separation anxiety. It was the first time you’d been without Chris to tell you to calm down in months. And he evidently couldn’t stay away, either, because he made an excuse to bring you another coffee before they started on your makeup.

           “Thank you so much,” you said as he handed it to you. You made grabby hands toward it until the straw was in your mouth and you were tasting the sweetness of the milk and espresso mixed together.

           “Anything for you. I’ll pick you up at six and we can walk down together,” he said. “I’ll see you then, sweetheart, alright?” You nodded, smiling, and with a wink he left the room and you were alone. You couldn’t help but squeal on the inside. You knew there was still no way he probably liked you the way that you liked him, and the way that the internet seemed to think he did, but you were still giddy. You loved spending time with him, even if it didn’t count as a date. You met him outside the hotel suite at the exact time he told you to – and, like you’d picked out previously, your dress matched his suit. If this didn’t fuel the rumors, nothing would.

           “You look so gorgeous,” he said as he approached you, smiling at you as he looked at your dress.

           “You look pretty handsome yourself,” you responded. He did. His beard was finally tamed, his jacket and pants a burgundy velvet that matched the color of pink you were wearing. “Shall we?”

           “We shall.” He took your arm and pressed the button for the elevator. He helped you in, too, making sure you didn’t slip on your dress train or the heels that were far too high for you. The elevator was ridiculously slow to shut the doors back, so much so that Chris had pressed the button to get the doors to close. “This elevator hates us,” he said.

           “Yeah, it was doing that earlier,” you replied. The doors finally creaked shut and you could feel it starting to move. You stood toward the back, in case someone else got on, and Chris was looking through his phone. And then the elevator stopped. Just stopped. Just straight up fucking stopped.

           “Oh, no,” Chris said quietly. He pushed the emergency stop button, then the call button. The hotel confirmed that the elevator was stuck, and that they’d call someone to help get them out.

           “Oh, God,” you sighed. “This is the worst thing that could have possibly happened. We’re going to be late to our own movie, and then people will probably think something else happened, and then…” Chris looked back at you.

           “Why are you so stressed out about what other people think of us?” You shrugged, blushing, and realized that the air in the elevator was much colder than the rest of the hotel. Chris must have noticed, because before you even answered he was putting his jacket around your shoulders.

           “Because,” you sighed, “I just do, okay?” He looked you up and down before shaking his head.

           “I don’t believe you. There’s another reason.” You looked at him and then looked away again, looking down at the carpet on the floor.

           “Because I don’t want you to think that there’s any truth to it. Because it would basically be career suicide for you and I don’t want to do that to you.” He scoffed.

           “Career suicide? What? It doesn’t matter if we’re friends or we’re dating, that has absolutely nothing to do with anything.”

           “But it does. I’m 22, Chris, I’m basically still a kid, and it doesn’t matter if I have a crush on you or not. It just matters that the rest of the world would judge you and me and they already do and I just…” You sighed, watching as realization took over his face.

           “That’s why you care so much,” he understood. “Because you like me.”

           “No, I…”

           “Don’t try and turn it around now, you already said something so now we have to talk about it.”

           “Or we could just forget about it. Because it could ruin things, and that’s why I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t want to lose you as a friend.”

           “What if I don’t care if it ruined anything?” He asked. You looked up at him, tilting your head to the side. “What if I like you? Did you ever think that might be a possibility?”

           “No, not really,” you admitted. “Because you’re… You.”

           “And you’re you. And what if I want the world to think we’re together because I want to be together and I just didn’t know how to tell you because I was terrified it would ruin everything?” Your heart sank a little. Did he really think that? All this time?

           “We really wasted all that time, didn’t we?” You asked. He nodded, a little smile coming over his face. “I’m sorry, Chris. I was so stupid.”

           “No, Y/n, I was the stupid one.” He walked forward to you, closing the distance between you, and looked down at you. The elevator call was still on, you realized, and whoever was on the line could hear you. You cocked your head at it.

           “Mr. Evans, the elevator will be manually brought down to the first floor in the next few minutes.”

           “Thank you,” Chris said. The call cut off, this time actually leaving you with Chris and only Chris. His eyes turned back to you. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

           “Then why aren’t you doing it? We have to make up for lost time, remember?” He smiled, taking the edges of the jacket that he’d wrapped around your shoulders, and pulled you into a kiss. Your characters had kissed in the movie, once, but this was different. He actually meant this. His lips were rough but soft at the same time, and you realized you would have to stop before his beard brushed against your skin any more.

           “Makeup,” you reminded him as he pulled away.

           “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” You took his hands in yours as you felt the elevator start moving again. “So what do you say you be my actual date? Dinner after the movie? And we can give this thing a try?”

           “Of course.” His lips pressed against your forehead as the elevator moved so slowly that you could barely feel it. By the time the doors opened, he let you out of the elevator first, hand on your back like he always did. This time, it was slightly more confident as he led you out to the limo.

A/N: I hereby volunteer myself to get stuck in an elevator with Chris Evans. I hope you guys like this as much as I do!

[appalachianwiine]

Swim - Chapter 5 - A Light In the Darkness

I need light in the dark as I search for the resolution   

-"The Resolution" by Jacks Mannequin

“Well we’re not going to be starting Chemo tonight after all.” Dr. Rhee says as she walks in shortly after lunch. 

“We’re not?” Daryl frowns.

“No her post op lab results show just a little bit of an increase in white blood cells.” Dr. Rhee explains. “I’m going to give her some antibiotics and retest tomorrow morning. But the good news is that means she can go down to the playroom for a bit.” 

“Can she have visitors?” Daryl asks. Lydia had been asking about seeing Carl since the child life specialist, Beth, had left. 

“Yeah she can, but visiting hours for non family end at 8pm” Dr. Rhee informs him. 

“Want me t’ call ‘em baby girl?” Daryl asks. 

“Can you?” Lydia pleads. 

“Yeah.” Daryl picks up his phone and dials Lori. 

“Daryl?!” Her voice is a little strained. “We’ve been calling all day. Is everything okay?” 

Its with a rush of guilt he realizes he’s hardly looked at his phone since she called him yesterday. “Shit sorry Lori.” He gives her the short version of it all, about the leukemia, the lumbar puncture, the results they were waiting on.

“I can’t believe you didn’t call earlier.” Lori scolds. “Daryl, we should’ve been there. I can’t believe you had to do all this alone.” 

Daryl grimaces. “Sorry, I uh - I actually had a meetin’ this mornin’. With a nice woman who runs the support group here fer parents. She was a single parent when she went through this with her daughter.” 

“Oh.” Lori says. “Is - is there a lot of that? Single parents I mean.” 

Daryl glances over at Lydia, who’s drawn back into the television. “I ain’ even the only adoptive parent righ’ now. There’s a guy across the hall, Ezekiel, an’ his kid.” 

“Shit.” Lori mutters. “Well um - do you - do you want us to come by? Can she have visitors?” 

“Yeah she can. She’s been askin’ t’ see Carl. Real disappointed in not getting t’ see him yesterday.” Daryl says. 

“I’ll give Rick a call and we’ll be by.” Lori says. “You need anything from home?” 

“No we’re alright.” Daryl says. “Thanks Lori.” 

“Of course.” Lori says. “We’ll see you around 3?” 

“See you then.” He hangs up, turning back to Lydia, who’s watching him with hopeful eyes. “They’ll be here around three.” 

“Yay!” Lydia grins, bouncing up and down. 

“Ya know,” Dr. Rhee says. “Maybe Miss Lydia would like to check out the playroom. She’ll have to wear a mask and stay connected to the infusion pump, but they’ve got a lot of good stuff in there.”

“Can we daddy?” Lydia asks. 

“Sure.” Daryl agrees, he’ll do anything to keep her in good spirits right now. She seems to be feeling good and he’d like to keep it that way. “You know there’s a little boy yer age across the hall?” 

“There is?” Lydia asks. “Can I see him?” 

“Sure, lets go over and see if he wants to come with us.” Daryl helps Lydia out of bed and sets her carefully on the floor. “Hang on let me get the pole.” He reaches for the infusion pole, fumbling with the latch that attaches it to the bed for a moment. It releases and he pulls it towards him, it’s surprisingly heavy. “Alright lets go kiddo.” 

They have to pause twice for Daryl to gather up the tubing that comes out of Lydia’s arm and up to the bag of antibiotics. As he loops them around his hand it strikes him that this isn’t unlike Dog’s long line, wrapped around his hands and unraveling as they move. Lydia looks back at Daryl as they reach the door of 323. 

“You knock daddy.” Lydia mutters, reaching out to grab his hand. The wariness returns to her as they stand in front of the door. 

“Okay.” He says, squeezing her hand and reaching out to knock. 

“A moment!” Ezekiel’s voice comes from beyond the door. There’s some scrambling and then the door pulls open. “Daryl!” 

The booming voice makes Lydia flinch and draw closer to Daryl. Daryl reassures her with a hand on her head, stroking her hair back. “Uh, Ezekiel. This is Lydia.” He smiles. “She was wondering if - if Henry might want to come to the playroom.” 

Ezekiel kneels in front of them, and it’s then that Daryl sees he’s wearing a paper crown colored in yellow and pink. “Hello Lydia.” His voice drops. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Ezekiel.” He holds out a hand. 

Lydia’s brown eyes look back up at Daryl, and then, slowly, she reaches out to shake Ezekiel’s hand. “Hi.” 

“Would you like to come in and meet Henry?” Ezekiel asks. Lydia nods silently, and Ezekiel stands, offering a smile and stepping back from the door. “Come in, he’s over there with Carol.” 

Daryl pushes the IV pole into the room, it’s a mirror image of their own, except this one is decorated. Behind the bed is one of those banners you get from the party store spelling out ‘Henry’ in bold green letters, and a bunch of printer sheet sized papers with colorful backsplash and lettering taped around the room. As he walks past one Daryl sees it’s a bible verse, the others appear to be too. Over by the window the bald little boy is sitting on Carol’s lap and holding plastic dinosaurs. 

“Henry.” Ezekiel calls. “Someone is here to see you.” 

The boy’s head turns and Daryl is struck by how in the light of day his skin appears almost translucent but his eyes are bright and alert. “Hi.” He says, climbing off of Carol’s lap and trotting across the floor, his own infusion tube trailing after him. “I’m Henry.” 

“Lydia.” She mumbles, hiding her face against Daryl’s leg. 

“Go on.” Daryl mutters, nudging her forward. “Ask him.” 

“Do you um… want to go to the… to the playroom?” She mutters, half into Daryl’s leg. 

“Sure.” A smile stretches across Henry’s face. “Can we daddy?” 

“Sure Henry.” Ezekiel says, already fumbling with the latch on the infusion pole. 

“Hi Daryl.” Carol says. “She doing okay?” 

“Yeah I think so.” Daryl nods. “Better now that she ate, and uh her friend is coming to visit soon.” 

“Are you coming with us?” Henry asks Carol as he drops a few plastic dinosaurs into a tub. 

“If your daddy doesn’t mind.” Carol smiles. 

“Never do.” Ezekiel smiles, sliding Henry’s own infusion pole over to them. “Ready?” 

The playroom is at the other end of the floor, it’s empty and clean, even here everything smells sterile and controlled. There’s a sign telling the kids to wear masks before they go in, and two boxes, one with princesses and the other with trucks. A bit gendered but it’s an option. Henry reaches confidently for the princess one and puts it on, Lydia on the other hand looks warily at them. 

“I don’t want those.” Lydia murmurs. 

“I know.” Daryl sighs. “But those are the rules, if you don’t follow them you have to go back to the room.” 

“Fine.” Lydia scowls, grabbing one of the pink princess ones and putting it on. “Can we go play now?” 

“Go on.” Daryl says, pushing her infusion pole over to one of the small tables and watching her drag out the barbies.

“They seem to be hitting it off.” Carol comes to stand next to him, Ezekiel is helping the kids pull the toys out, still wearing the paper crown. 

“Yeah.” Daryl mutters. “What’s uh - what’s with the crown?” 

“Oh,” Carol chuckles. “Henry was making us play something he calls ‘’Kingdom” It changes but the theme is usually he’s a prince and Ezekiel is the King and they have to fight monsters.” 

“Ah.” Daryl chuckles. “A fun kid?” 

“Oh tons of fun.” Carol nods. “When he feels good anyway, he’ll probably take a hit after this round of Chemo.” Her smile fades a little bit. 

“Oh.” Dary mutters. 

“Sorry.” Carol apologizes. “It’s just - it’s always a little hard being here.” 

“I can’t even imagine.” Daryl sighs. “Losing her it’s -” 

“Don’t.” Carol cuts him off. “I’m sorry just - the words don’t… they don’t help and you don’t need to go there right now.” 

“Right.” He’s quiet for a while, an awkward silence stretching out in front of them. 

“What do you do?” Carol says after a moment. 

“Cop. Special Victims, domestic violence and child abuse mostly” He nods. “‘S how I met Lydia. You?” 

“High School English teacher.” Carol says. Daryl chuckles. “What?” 

“I don’ know I didn’t picture that.” He shrugs. 

“Oh really?” Carol raises her eyebrows. “What did you picture Mr. Cop?” 

“I don’t know. I just can’t picture you as a strict highschool English teacher.” He scratches his chin. “You uh make the kids write a million drafts?” 

“If I don't, no one will.” She chuckles. “I wanted to teach Elementary though, but after Sophia… highschool was easier.” 

“Ah.” Daryl nods. “And uh, you an’ Ezekiel, how long has that been a thing? Just since he moved down here? Or did you know him before?” 

“Me and Ezekiel?” She raises her eyebrows. “Oh we’re not - no, just friends. Trust me the last thing either of us has the time or energy for is dating. He got in contact with me a lot like you did actually, referral through Maggie.” 

“Oh.” Daryl says. “I uh, sorry I just assumed, I mean Henry seems to adore you and I just assumed.” 

“It’s fine.” Carol promises. “So what’s her plan?” 

“Lydias?” Daryl asks, Carol nods. “Oh um, well apparently the lab is closed on Sundays, but we should have results by Thursday, but I think she’s supposed to start Chemo tomorrow. What uh… what can I expect? I mean Dr. Rhee told me but it’s kind of overwhelming.”

“Daryl.” Carol sighs. “Are you sure you can handle this right now?” 

“I’m fine.” He insists. “The hallway was just -” 

“It’s okay.” Carol reaches over and squeezes his arm. “You don’t have to explain, I promise we’ve all had breakdowns in the hallway.” 

“Right.” Daryl rubs his hands on his jeans.

“So um,” Carol says. “So they’ll probably give about four hours of fluids first, chemo does a lot of damage to the kidneys so they’ll want her to flush it as quickly as possible. So expect a lot of potty breaks, then she’ll get her chemo, then another four hours of fluids. She’ll feel pretty tired, nauseous, she might get constipated, and her blood counts will plummet.” 

“What does that mean?” Daryl asks. “Like what do I - what will she look like.” 

“Um, pale, they’ll watch her for a certain kind of bruising, she’ll have a higher chance of infection. It’s not too bad when they’re checking her all the time, but it’s nerve wracking when you’re at home.” Carol sighs, chewing her lip. 

“Her hair.” He says quietly. “How long… um will that take to…” 

“To fall out?” Carol says slowly, he can still sense some reluctance on her part. “Sophia's took about 2 weeks to really start coming out and then we shaved it after the third week, it was starting to upset her. But Henry kept all of his until it was gone and that was about a month.” 

“A month.” He mutters. “That’s uh - that’s not very long.” 

“No.” Carol shakes her head. “But you’re gonna get through this Daryl. It’s like Ezekiel said, you’re not alone in this. You can call me any time, seriously.” 

“Yeah.” He nods. “I uh - I will.” 

“I know that look.” Carol says. “Which means I’m going to be calling you to check in.” 

“What d’ ya mean?” He gowns. 

“That look means you’re not going to reach out first and you’re going to be stubborn about it.” Carol nudges him. 

He blushes, that had been what he was thinking. “Fine. FIne. I’ll call.” 

“Before you’re discharged. You’ll need help with that. There’s a lot that needs to be done for her to come home.” Carol insists. 

“Yeah alright. Before she’s discharged.” Daryl promises. 

They linger in the playroom for another half an hour, after which Henry starts complaining that he’s tired. Ezekiel takes Henry back to their room and Daryl helps Lydia put away some of the toys. 

“Come on kiddo, Carl will be here soon.” Daryl says, putting a few barbies in the bin. 

“Alright.” Lydia pouts putting a couple more barbies away. “Is she coming with us?” 

Daryl looks over at Carol who’s putting away a few plastic animals. “Um, I don’t think so. Why?” 

“I thought she’s Henry’s mom.” Lydia shrugs. “But he says she’s not.” 

“Yeah.” Daryl nods.

“You two want some help getting back to the room?” Carol offers. 

“Nah.” Daryl shakes his head, sliding the bin of barbies back into the cupboard and starting to gather up Lydia’s infusion line. “I think we got it. Don’t we Lydia?” 

“We got it.” Lydia nods. 

“Alright.” Carol smiles. “I’ll get going then okay?” 

“Yeah.” Daryl nods. “And uh… thanks for everything.” 

“Of course.” Carol says, holding the door open so he can push the heavy infusion pole through it. “And I mean it, I’ll be calling you. I want to see you in our meeting on Tuesday okay?”

Daryl’s about to answer but he’s cut off by a sharp yelp, Lydia has rushed forward to the end of her line and tugged it. “Lydia!” He mutters, hurrying over to her and kneeling in front of her, it doesn’t appear to have come out. “What are you-” 

“Lydia!” And in a blur another eight year old has rushed up beside him, hugging her tightly. 

“Carl!” Lydia grins, barely noticing the worry she’d caused Daryl. “Move Daddy!” 

“I - “ He looks over at Carol, she’s covered her mouth trying to suppress a giggle. 

“It’s cute.” She says apologetically. “Tuesday?” 

“Yeah.” His shoulders relax. “Tuesday.” Carol walks past him towards the elevator and Daryl pulls the infusion pump closer to them. “Carl where’s your mom?” 

“I don’t know.” Caryl shrugs, sticking his thumbs in his belt looks. “Somewhere.” 

“Carl Grimes!” Lori’s harsh voice says, coming up rapidly behind them, baby Judith on her hip. “Don’t you ever run off like that again you understand?”

“Sorry. I saw Lydia.” Carl shrugs. 

“I can see that.” Lori sighs. “Daryl, sorry about him he knows better.” 

“It’s fine Lori.” Daryl assures. “We’re just heading back to the room.” 

“Who was the woman?” Carl asks, holding Lydia’s hand as Daryl gathers up the cords again and loops them around his arm.

“Oh that’s Carol. She’s not Henry’s mom.” Lydia shrugs. 

“Then who is she?” Carl frowns. 

“I don’t know. Daddy's friend I guess.” Lydia doesn’t seem phased by it and the two start off down the hall, leaving Daryl and Lori to hurry after them. 

“Woman?” Lori raises her eyebrows. 

“Carol.” Daryl says. “She’s from the single parents support group. She uh - saw that whole fiasco.” 

“Ah.” Lori chuckles. “She's pretty?” 

“Yeah I guess. Why?” Daryl narrows his eyes.

“No reason.” Lori smirks. 

“Oh no no no.” Daryl says. “My kid has cancer, you're not playing matchmaker.” 

“You’re no fun.” Lori pouts. 

“Where’s Lori and Michonne?” He’s eager to change the subject. 

“Already in the room probably, they didn’t have a baby to hold them up.” Lori chuckles. “Or a little boy who likes to play the world tour of bathrooms every time we’re somewhere new. They brought some decorations for Lydia.” 

“Daddy look!” Lydia grins from the doorway. “Look what aunt Michonne and Uncle Rick brought!” 

Sure enough, when he gets to the door the entire room has been done up like a Little Mermaid party. Balloons, streamers, and a big ‘get well soon lydia’ sign hanging above the bed.’. He grins sheepishly at rick. “Y’all didn’t have t’ do this.” 

“Of course we did.” Michonne grins. “Now come on Lydia we brought you some presents.”

[mindfulwrathwrites]

What Is This, An Elder God For Ants?

A story about a cosmic horror, told from the perspective of the cosmic horror.

Words: 1,937 Warnings: Animal death

View on main site

...

I used to have an ant problem in my kitchen. It's probably not what you're picturing—they didn't get into the sugar or set up camp in the coffee. I kind of wish they had. There's people who deal with that kind of thing for a living.

No, I'm pretty sure the ants in my kitchen found religion.

I don't remember exactly when it started. There wasn't any big event, any one moment I can pick out and say "this is Point A." At some point, ants got into my kitchen. It was probably spring, because that's when ants get into kitchens. They did ant things for a while. I didn't bother getting rid of them because I was in a really shitty place and just dragging myself out of bed in the morning was almost too much. The ants were just the shitty icing on a shitty cake, and I couldn't be assed to care about them.

Thinking back on it, that's probably why I didn't worry too much when it did start to get weird.

The first time I remember, it was early in the morning, probably on a Monday. I wake up before sunrise so I can get to work before rush hour hits, so my commute only takes an hour instead of two. That's not important, really, it's just that it was early and my brain hadn't turned on yet. There was only one ant on my kitchen counter. It wasn't running around, looking for food, following pheromone trails, or anything that ants usually do. It was just kind of standing there, waving its antennae, occasionally turning side to side like it was lost, or something. Waiting for something. It was tiny, I mean, all the ants were tiny, but it never really registered before then. Watching it, waiting for my coffee to brew, I started to feel kind of sorry for it.

Stupid, but what can you do. I might have let a little sugar spill off my spoon on the way to my coffee. I might have let it fall right in front of that tiny, lost ant. I might have done it on purpose, I don't know. I forgot about it ten seconds later. I didn't remember about it for another two weeks.

The next time I noticed something weird, there were a lot of ants.

Not a lot of ants in like, a swarm kind of way. Probably there were only about a dozen of them, but they were all just standing there, all just waiting—and all facing towards the edge of the counter. I don't think they were watching me. I did feel like they were waiting, probably for me to drop more sugar.

I smushed one of them. I'd had a hard week, and the last thing I wanted was my stupid sleep-deprived empathy attracting a shitload of ants. The other ones freaked out, started running around in circles, trying to find their pheromone trails. I think I smushed all of them. Certainly most of them. If I'm honest, I was a little creeped out at that point. I don't know why. Maybe I thought the ghosts of all those ants I'd killed would come back to haunt me. They didn't, of course. For a long time, there were hardly any ants at all, and so I forgot about it. I got back to the drudgery of living my life, one day at a time. It wasn't like I had anything else to do.

The next time I noticed, there wasn't any getting around how weird it was.

It was right around dawn again, and I was making coffee. At first, I didn't even notice the ants—or I didn't notice that they were ants. They were standing around again, very still, except they were in a circle. A really neat, really perfect circle. They were all moving their antennae, in a way I'd never seen ants do before. It looked coordinated, somehow. It was probably my eyes playing tricks on me. They were so small, it would be hard to make out that kind of detail, especially with sleep-blurred vision.

I dropped some sugar into the middle of the circle, just to see what would happen. The ants didn't move. I shrugged and got on with my day. When I got back that night, the sugar was gone, and so were the ants. Fine by me. I decided I must have dreamed the part with the circle. I didn't really believe it, but I pretended I did.

Couple days later, they were back, circled up again. There was one ant in the middle this time. I smushed it, still don't really know why. The others ran away. I felt bad. I left some sugar.

I think that's how it all went so wrong.

The next time I found an ant-circle, there was an ant in the middle again—only it was a different species of ant, much bigger, and it was already dead. Well, that was pretty weird, but at least it wasn't alive. I got my tweezers and I put it in the trash, and then I left some sugar for my tiny ant buddies. When I got to thinking of them as buddies, I don't know. I didn't really have any friends, and everything was such a damn struggle, and I actually kind of liked the little guys. They weren't hurting anything, they didn't eat much, they didn't get into anything but my kitchen counter. They were buddies. I didn't mind them.

Over the next few days, they brought me more dead ants. I took the big dead ants away and left sugar. The next week, they brought me a dead cockroach. I loved these ants, these ants were the best! My place had had a roach problem for years, and nothing I'd done had taken care of them, so if my little buddies wanted to do it? Awesome! Good arrangement! Have some sugar, little fellas, you did good.

A couple more roaches. A centipede. I didn't give them anything for the centipede, because those are useful predators and they'd never bothered me, really. Another roach, sugar. A spider, no sugar. A really big roach, a lot of sugar. Was the circle of ants getting bigger? Who knows. It was better pest control than my landlord could be assed with, and it cost me less than a teaspoon of sugar a week. It was such a cool little arrangement that I actually started feeling less shitty—I washed dishes regularly, cleaned (most of) my living area, did laundry, fed my ants. I started thinking of them like pets.

At some point, the ant-circle became a double ring, then a triple ring. They brought me a dead wasp. I was impressed, although a little bit unsettled. I think it was the wasp that lived over my patio door, which—sure, it was a nuisance, and I'd been meaning to kill it, but it was weird that the ants knew. I tried to convince myself that the ants didn't know, they'd just found the wasp when it got inside, or something. It was fine. I gave them lots of sugar. They did good. My little ant buddies, doing nice things for me.

Sometime around August, they brought me a dead frog.

I couldn't even tell it was dead at first. My kitchen is dark in the mornings. It was sitting on the counter, four rings of ants around it. It was very, very still. I was scared it was going to jump away. I turned the lights on. It didn't move. It was covered in bumps, so I thought it was a toad. It wasn't a toad. It was a dead frog, gone gray and dry and very, very still. Covered in ant bites.

I probably stood there for five minutes, just trying to understand. I got a couple of unopened credit-card scams and kind of swept the dead frog up. It was stiff and it was heavy and it was still dead. I put it in a ziplock bag and put the bag in the trash. I put the mail I'd used to sweep it up in the trash, too.

I smashed every ant I could find.

They ran, they broke like a panicked crowd and ran, but I didn't stop until I couldn't find any more of them. I was sick to my stomach for days. Anytime I saw an ant, I killed it on sight. I couldn't stop thinking about that dead frog on my counter. I sprayed the whole kitchen down with lysol, and then bug spray. I caulked up every crack I could see. I had no idea how the little bastards had gotten the thing inside. It must have taken hundreds of them to kill it, hours to drag it inside and onto my kitchen counter. I got new weather stripping for the doors and windows. I didn't go out much. I killed every ant I saw, but there were always more ants.

I decided that I needed to kill the whole nest, and that would be the end of it. Once I'd killed the nest, maybe I could sleep again.

It took me a while to find it, a lot of hunting around outside. I figured it had to be near my kitchen, and it was. It wasn't a big nest, or at least it wasn't a big mound. Maybe it went deep, or sprawled, but I wasn't thinking much about that. I wasn't thinking much about anything except the dead frog on my kitchen counter. I filled up my tea kettle and set it to boiling. It wasn't a long wait, comparatively. It felt like it took hours.

By the time the kettle whistled, there was one ant on my kitchen counter.

It was right up on the edge, holding very still, waving its tiny antennae. It was facing me. It was so small, they'd always been so small, and it was looking at me. Huge me, towering me, boiling up the apocalypse for its tiny, tiny world.

The ants didn't know. The ants couldn't have understood the difference between a roach and a wasp, a wasp and a frog. I wasn't sure I understood what the difference was. I'd trained them, really. I'd trained them to kill things and bring me the bodies. It wasn't their fault that they didn't know where the line was.

But I didn't want any more dead frogs.

I picked up the kettle. I opened the lid. I started pouring boiling water on my kitchen counter, slowly. I wanted to know if the ant would run. It did run. I kept pouring. It ran all the way back to the molding, up the backsplash, behind the electrical socket. I kept pouring until the ant was gone. My hand was wet and stinging with steam. I put the kettle down. I cleaned up the water. I caulked up the spaces around the electrical socket.

I haven't seen an ant in my kitchen since.

At the start of spring this year, I went out to check on the nest. I've been feeling pretty shitty about the whole thing, and I wanted to know if the ants were still there. They are. It's weird, though, the nest doesn't look like it used to, and it's the kind of thing that convinces me I didn't imagine the whole thing like one big stress dream.

It's hard to tell, because the perspective is awfully weird, but these days that anthill kind of looks like a frog.

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Thursday Teaser #1

I don’t know who started it, but I’ve seen a few Everlark sleeping bag drabbles floating around. I’ve got several bookmarked to read later, but in the meantime I had a crappy night and was up at three a.m., for some reason needing to write canon post-Mockingjay Everlark. This is just a teaser since it grew out of control (*snorts* no surprise there doesn’t it always grow out of control??) so this will be closer to a oneshot/growing back together ficlet once I get a chance to finish it, hopefully this weekend.

************

“I won’t stay for long. They said it’d only be a couple of days.”

“It’s fine, Peeta.”

“I can always stay with Haymitch if you don’t--”

“Peeta,” she says and waits for him to look at her. “If you prefer the litter and stench, by all means stay with Haymitch.”

He lets out a short puff of laughter and shakes his head. “We should probably do something about that, huh? He has done an awful lot for both of us, keeping us mostly alive and all.”

“Mm, how much do you think a pot of broth is worth?”

“I’m not kissing Haymitch,” Peeta says and Katniss laughs.

“I meant how much cleaning of his house do we owe for that? Or what about a spile? Think that’s worth about an hour of cleaning and badgering him to get his life together?”

“I’d say it’s worth dumping out the liquor we find stashed in weird places.”

“Like under the sofa cushions.”

“Or taped inside the toilet tank,” Peeta says with a cringe that makes her laugh again.

“How’d you find that one?”

“Toilet wouldn’t stop running. We had the same problem at the bakery once and when I told Dad, he said it just happens sometimes when things get old so I tried fixing it myself and…” He trails off and shuffles his feet, clears his throat awkwardly. It’s been happening more and more lately, Peeta remembering things like this from before.

“It must have been tough, living with your mother,” Katniss soothes and Peeta pushes his lips together tight.

“Yeah. Yeah, even for Dad. Guess we all had our ways of coping.” They stand there silently, Peeta’s bag sitting by his feet. He motions towards the sitting room, where they’ve spent every evening for the past few months, alternately working on the memory book and the plant book when that became too hard. “I’ll just...sleep down here. Out of the way.”

“I have extra bedrooms upstairs,” she says and he nods but moves into the sitting room instead.

“Yeah, I know. I’m somewhat familiar with the floor plan.” 

She bites her lip and turns away, heads into the kitchen to maybe see about fixing them some kind of lunch. She pauses by the sink and peers out the window, towards Peeta’s house across the way and the weird tent the workers from the Capitol are setting up around the whole thing. Termites, they had told Peeta, among other things. His house was infested with all manner of bugs laying claim once more to the structure, nature encroaching back in after it had been left vacant and untended for so long.

His feet scrape on the floor as he joins her. She wonders how much longer it will feel weird around him, being alone with him like this. She traces the cheery yellow flowers painted on the backsplash tile, behind the sink. Thinks of another yellow flower.

“Makes me wonder what sort of vermin Haymitch is harboring. An hour might be a bit generous for a spile,” Peeta says and the laugh is out of her throat before she can control it.

[chokefriends]

Pit-town Strays Ch.3

Kidlaw softness and redneck shenanigans in a northern mining town. Everything’s fucked but whatever.

Rated T, no warnings. 

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - [Ch. 3] - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5

Read on Ao3 too, I’m Ossicle

The next morning was a comfortable jumble—coffee, laundry, and UFO ‘documentaries’ playing in the background on the big tv. Kidd thudded around in his boxers, yelling at Nami to put some actual clothes on for once, and burning toast in the oven.

“If your toaster wasn't being a radio, you might get toast out of it,” Law pointed out.

“Ah fuck that. I got a laptop with a broken fan that runs hot enough to burn the table… I can probably rig that up and it'll work. Hm.”

Law shook his head. “Whatever. Towels? I'm gonna shower.”

Kidd waved a hand as he dug around in a kitchen drawer full of tools. “Use whatever one, they're all pretty clean.”

Law found the stack of clean towels, and locked himself in the bathroom before going about his usual, highly involved routine. It wasn't like either of these tar-pit kids cared if his nails were trimmed or stuff like that, but he liked feeling put-together in the details, even if he'd slept in his clothes and had kind of a hangover.

He got out of the shower to find Nami sitting on the counter, chewing a toothbrush.

“Nami! The door was locked!” He hid behind the shower curtain and grabbed his towel.

“Yah.”

“That means don't come in!” he emerged with a towel around him and tried to shoo her out.

“What is it that?” She pointed at his skin.

“Tattoos.”

“Tattoos are hurt?”

“No, they're fine. Out.” He picked her up and set her outside the bathroom door, then closed it.

“My toothbrUSH!” she screeched.

Law cracked the door enough to stick the toothbrush out, then closed, locked and latched it. But the doorknob fucking rattled again like two minutes later.

“Nami, WHAT,” Law shouted, then scrambled to hide when Kidd responded.

“Nami says she needs Band-Aids! I dunno what for, but...”

“There's some on top of the fridge! Go get those!”

“What? No there's not.” The doorknob rattled again.

“Yes there is! Fuck off, I'm fucking half dressed!” Law called from behind the shower curtain.

“Oh, I don't mind—”

“I do!! Just go look on the fridge and let me dress!”

“...taking all fucking day in there…” Heavy footsteps went off the hall.

Law sat down wearily in the tub, letting out a deep breath. He rested for a minute, letting his eyes wander over the black spots drawn onto his jeans with sharpie. All his clothes ended up like that—he doodled the spots whenever he was bored in class or hanging out by himself. Just his thinking-patterns.

He shook off the thoughtful moment and reached one hand out of the shower curtain to grab his t-shirt and hoodie. He finished dressing in the shower.

“My turn yet?” Kidd grumbled when he finally reappeared.

“Oh, you do wash?”

“Haha. Go to hell.” He belched and grabbed the towel from Law.

---

Things were calm in their chaotic way throughout the rest of the morning. No more texts came from back home, and Law let that issue settle to the back of his mind. Nami seemed happy, though she started pointedly ignoring Kidd as soon as he made motions to leave for work. She focused instead on sticking band-aids to Law's shirt.

“The hell is she doing?” Kidd wondered. “Nami, the hell are you doing? Stop wasting those. I can only get the animal ones when the old blind lady's working the cash.”

“She saw my tattoos and decided they were boo-boos,” Law grumbled. He watched disapprovingly while Nami carefully patched up the sharpie spots on his jeans too.

“Ohhh, heh. You got tats?” Kidd looked him over quickly, but they were all covered up.

“Yeah, a couple in blackwork. They're kinda personal so I don't really show em off.”

“That's fuckin sweet, I wanna get some but they're so expensive. The piercings, I can at least do myself.”

Law shrugged. “Yeah, I got a friend with his own machine who does it for me.”

Kidd watched Nami, a little smile sneaking over his face. “Aw, that's actually pretty cute…” He took out his phone and held it up for a picture.

Law tensed. “Uh! I don't like pictures of me.”

“No? Kay I'll just get one of her then.” The phone made an obnoxious fake camera snap sound.

“...Great.” Law slouched in his chair with his head propped up on one fist.

“What you wanna eat later, any takeout requests?” Kidd asked.

“Whatever.”

“Chicken bucket?”

Law shrugged.

Kidd waited but just got more silence. He tried his sister. “Nami: chicken?”

That one was definitely ignoring him. Kidd gave up with an impatient growl and left for work, stomping his way outside with extra force.

“Ah fuck…” Law regretted his terseness as soon as the other had gone. Now he felt bad. “Nami, stop. Kidd said don't waste those.”

“Haha… yah.”

“Nami. I said stop.”

She startled at his harsh tone, and started to cry. Law sighed in frustration as she tried to climb up into his lap for comfort.

“Law, you hug me. I'm Nami and you hug me.”

“Law doesn't like hugs, Nami.”

She insisted, “Kidd is always hug me and give me a band-aid.”

“Kidd lets you have what you want too much,” Law observed.

But he picked her up to sit on his lap. She applied a final tiger band-aid to the middle of his chest, and he scoffed and massaged his temples.

“Nami, a locked door means don't go in. Okay?”

“Hmhmhn.” Now she was ignoring him and humming to herself. She picked up the pencil on the table and started adding her own designs to Law's stats assignment.

“Nami.” He took the sheet away and she looked at him in outrage.

“No!” she scolded him.

Law scolded her right back. “Hey! Listen! Closed door is no.”

“NO.”

“NO,” he said even louder. Great, now he was getting in a shouting contest with a toddler.

Nami wasn't having it, though. She slid down off his lap and went to go damn well do her own thing. A moment later, she came back and took the band-aid right off his chest before leaving again.

He shook his head in disbelief. “Damn, that's cold.”

---

Law brooded at the table for a while, staring past the little pile of photocopied practice sheets he was supposed to be working on and coloring his nails black with sharpie. A chair scraping the floor next to him brought him back to reality. Right… he was babysitting.

Nami climbed up on the chair and handed Law a little jar of something. Black nail polish.

“Heh. You think black nails are pretty, Nami?” Law smiled and accepted the peace offering.

“Yah.” She watched him shake the jar and inspect the contents. Her own nails were an even, glossy black—the product of Kidd's steady hand.

“I think it's nice too…” Law started on his left thumb, trying to match Kidd's technique.

“Our’s dad is say no, it's haggy.”

“Haggy?”

“Yah.”

“What's that?” Law could mostly decipher her toddler-speak, with all its fumbled f's and chubby-cheeked babble, but sometimes it took a minute.

She paused and thought. “Hm.”

“Haggy…” Law thought, and then got it. “Oh… fuck. Nami don't say that to anyone, that's bad.”

“Is bad?”

“Well… it's not bad to be, uh, that. But it's mean to say it to someone. It hurts.” He paused and looked at his hand, half-painted and definitely messy. He bit his lip and stubbornly went about doing the rest too. “Anyway, black nails aren't bad, they're babely. Especially on guys. Like your brother.”

Nami seemed satisfied. “And witches too and mermaids?”

“Definitely. Babely and not bad...”

She watched Law move onto his right hand, fumble it, and make a blob. “You do it bad.”

She dodged Law's attempt to give her an even bigger blob, and ran off screeching gleefully. Law gave up the task with a sigh and picked up his phone instead.

---

You: cheese fries.

Kidd: cheese fries??

You: cheese fries

You: or whatever you want

You: its your money

Kidd: cheese fries!!!!! !!; ✓✓✓

---

Kidd got back earlier this time. Law looked out the window, surprised to see it was still daylight, but a little relieved. Nami had been an on-and-off terror again that day. The little hellion signaled her joy at Kidd's early return by running up to him and screeching like a banshee.

“That’s a great new noise,” Kidd winced.

Law wasn't listening. He was looking at the message that had just popped up on his phone.

Bellamy: dad asking where u is……..

You: just tell him I took off early this morning

You: friend's place

You: back really soon

Bellamy didn't reply and Law swallowed a surge of panic. “I think I gotta go,” he mumbled.

“Cheese fries,” Kidd countered, holding up a brown paper bag.

“My dad’s home, and he'll want me to check in…”

“Cheese fries and I drive ya.” Kidd kicked off his boots and headed for the kitchen.

Law fiddled with his phone for a moment, but there were no more messages, and he'd asked for cheese fries, and hey, what was another few minutes anyway. He sat at the table with the two unruly redheads, both talking with their mouths full and shoveling down the fries without pausing to swallow. Kidd cracked a beer but took it slow, catching Law's glance. Nami quickly stuffed herself and fell asleep under the table with a blanket. They let her be while they ate.

“It’s the municipality's depot shop, so yeah, crooked as hell, but good-crooked, hahaha,” Kidd was explaining his new job around a cheesy mouthful.

“Oh? What kind of corruption is the good one again?” Law stirred his own fries into a mushy mass.

“Kind that pays cash and don't ask about certifications.”

“Oh, heh…”

Kidd shrugged. “Yeah. Little lax on the health and safety, but least it's not the Pit.”

“Yeah.” Law replied vaguely.

His strange host finished his greasy gravy-and-cheese mess and leaned back in his chair, stretching as much as he could in the small space. The black nails and metal-studded lips were such a weird contrast to the prissiness of the room—dusty lace valances and bonneted geese painted on the tile backsplash. The long-limbed boy just seemed so ill-fitted here; almost crammed in.

“So you got yourself a mess there, eh.” Kidd started, delicately.

Law sighed. “Yeah, well it's not really a ‘mess’. I'm probably overreacting. My Dad's just a little nuts about rules and family responsibilities… of which I seem to have the greater share…”

“Yeah, that's shitty.” Kidd chewed thoughtfully on a toothpick. “I wasn't tryna pry.”

“It's cool.”

“I meant your mani, though,” Kidd gestured with the toothpick at Law's left-handed paint job.

“Oh! Yeah that? Mess.” Law gave an embarrassed laugh. His left hand was okay, but his right was just a blobby attempt at two fingers.

“Want me to…?”

“Uh. Yeah. Maybe. Just if you want to,” Law laughed again, a little too loud.

“Yeah definitely. There's remover in the bathroom,” Kidd suggested.

Law went and cleaned off the smeared black on his right hand and returned. Kidd shuff-shuffed his chair over to Law's and shook the little vial of polish.

“Okay, gimme your uh…” Kidd noticed Law's flinch as he went to grab his hand. “Or actually, just put your hand on the table, here?”

Law placed his hand in the table, fingers spread, and Kidd went about his art. He somehow did each finger with only two strokes, leaning in close to execute the little flicks with peak precision. He laid his head right on the table, pillowed on an arm, to complete the thumb from up close. Law watched him frown in concentration.

“Nice. Don't move for ten minutes.” Kidd grinned when he'd finished. He blew lightly on Law's fingers with a pwfff to dry them.

Law put his head on his arm too, settling in across from Kidd. “Thanks.”

“Pfffwww.”

“Pffffffw,” Law puffed back at him.

“Haha, weird,” Kidd admitted.

“Mhm…”

Law drummed his painted fingers and didn't say anything for a couple minutes. Kidd let the silence stretch on, watching him as they both rested their heads on the table.

“...You worried about going back, huh.”

Law lifted his eyes to meet the other's, but then looked down again. They were too direct, felt like lasers.

“Doesn't matter. I’m needed back home,” he mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Or ‘required,’ I guess.”

“Hm,” Kidd mused.

“We don't got a mom, so.”

“She gone, or?”

Law shuffled and scoffed. “Well she was never my mom. She divorced my dad before I was ever adopted, and left their two sons with him. Went off somewhere. She comes back sometimes but she's like, a rich brat. I think she's actually very minor royalty in one of the shittier parts of Europe?”

“Heh, screw her then.”

“Definitely. So anyway, someone needs to make sure shit is in order. And watch my brothers,” Law explained.

“They're grown up, though, right?”

“Well, Dellinger's thirteen… and a little special… But actually, yeah, he's fine by himself. Way more than Bellamy was at that age.”

“Well, so you can just keep staying here!” Kidd decided.

Law laughed and rolled his eyes. “I can't just stay.”

“Yeah you can.” Kidd countered, honestly, and Law didn't really know what to say. Kidd pressed on, “Why not?”

“Don't think people around here like me much.”

“You think they like me here?” Kidd snorted. “They don't matter anyway. Nami likes you, and she never likes anyone.”

Law smiled to himself, thinking of the animal band-aids. “She's a good kid.”

“Just around you.”

Law withdrew back into silence, though he didn't make any move to get up, or to shake off the way their fingertips were lacing together loosely. He kept his head on the table and chewed his lip, looking at their matching fingernails instead of at Kidd.

“I kinda do too.”

“I... probably gotta go, for real,” Law responded after a flustered moment.

Kidd sat up with a casual shrug. “Yeah. I'll take you on the bike.”

“But, yeah, um… Maybe I could just come by sometimes, like after class, and, study here or just hang? Would that be cool?”

“Yeah!” Kidd's grin was so fierce and genuine it was impossible not to grin back.

---

They took off on the bike past all the tar-paper houses. Their windows were lighting up as the sky dimmed into grey dusk. Here and there firepits and packs of noisy kids sent up flurries of light and activity.

“The carpool again,” Law yelled to Kidd as they drove.

“Not all the way home?”

“Not unless you wanna run into my dad…”

“I don't mind,” Kidd shrugged.

“I mind.”

Kidd pulled into the carpool, stopping under the orange glow of the streetlight just as it flicked on. Law pulled off the helmet and dismounted with a little flutter in his stomach.

“So uh. Tomorrow?” Law leaned a casual hand on the bike handlebars, trying to be all smooth as fuck.

“Yeah…” Kidd watched him with a little smile.

Law leaned in, an answering smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. He didn't rush it—it was kinda nice to be the one looking down at Kidd for once.

But then something pinged the back of Law's awareness: A sound that sent all his internal alarms off. A car he knew… and not the old Volvo.

“Shit…” he looked up and down the highway.

“What, something up?” Kidd looked around too.

“Uh.” Law listened another frozen second, and then took off in a flat run for the trees.

“Okay cool see ya,” Kidd called to his back.

“Yup!”

---

Kidd sat on his bike and kicked his heels into the gravel for a moment after Law had taken off.

“Whatever,” he decided. Weird guy could go be weird or whatever. Not like Kidd cared. He fit the helmet onto his head and the lingering scent of hair oil and cloves struck him, close and unexpected…

Kidd felt his face and neck heat up again.

“...fuck,” he grumbled. He crossed his arms and looked around, staying hidden in his helmet and waiting for the stupid whatever feeling thing to pass. It didn't. “Fuck!” he told the streetlight.

He revved the bike and tore away onto the highway, weaving around the recent-model Caddy that was making its stately way past. It honked sternly.

“Fuck off, hippie!” Kidd yelled at it as he speed away.