#potato wedges easy

[daily-deliciousness]

Sweet potato wedges

[ratherbefangirling]

Belong pt.7

Pairing: ot7 x reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort, Omegaverse

Synopsis: The pack seems to be falling for you but Jungkook doesn't like it one bit. What happens when he learns you are his mate

Masterlist

Previous / Next

Jungkook walked into his professors office. Along with Namjoon as his guardian. The instinct to hide behind his pack alpha was pretty strong.

"Don't worry." Namjoon comforted rubbing his back. "I have all the papers here about Y/n's friends admittance to the hospital. I'm sure we will figure it out."

Jungkook nods biting his lip in worry.

They knock the professors door.

"Come in." The voice calls.

"Oh Jungkook ssi. And this must be your guardian."

"Pack Alpha. Kim Namjoon."

"Yes. Please take a seat."

Namjoon explained the situation to the professor.

"I'm not sure how much I can help you. You understand that he could have submitted before and its an important project for the final grade."

"Ofcourse professor. But it would be very gracious of you if you could offer us any solution."

The professor thought for a moment.

"While usually I don't do this but to raise your grade you may volunteer to supervise the freshmen trip. I'm the Head of the committee and we could use some man power."

"Thank you. Thanks a lot professor." Namjoon says flashing her a very bright blinding smile and Jungkook would be jealous except he knew how Namjoon always giggled when he was truly happy. The professor seemed charmed.

Namjoon rubbed Jungkook's back reassuringly.

"Everything will be fine now."

"Thanks hyung."

"You're welcome."

Jungkook fiddled with his thumbs. Unsure how to broach the topic of you. He almost hated that you came in their lives but in reality he hated himself for being insecure.

"Hyung." Jungkook started.

Namjoon's phone began to ring.

"Give me a moment Jungkook." He said before answering the call.

From the end of the corridor, a figure waved. Jungkook waved back to his friend Eunwoo.

"Hyung, I'm going to go meet Eunwoo. See you later."

Namjoon nodded and gave Jungkook a side hug before leaving.

"Still need Mr. Alpha to protect you." Eunwoo joked as Jungkook neared. Jungkook only rolled his eyes in response. He had enough of his friends teasing. Yes they had to listen to him show off about his pack and he might have gone over board. But nobody can blame him, he felt so good with his pack.

"What are you doing here?" Jungkook asked.

"Nothing important just dropping off some forms. You?"

"I kind of missed an important deadline so Namjoon hyung came to talk to the professor."

"You should be careful kook-ah." Eunwoo cautioned his friend.

"I know. I know."

Working together with your soulmate had to be the best thing ever. Jimin thought.

The two of them had been very busy after their break they had to set up a new exhibition. And setting up a new theme was never easy from looking into artworks, their aptness, setting them, having the backdrop and lighting changed to fit the new theme, archiving carefully the old ones, separating the loaned ones and returning them before their due. Making sure new pamphlets and posters are printed according to the guidelines.

The two of them had been working overtime because of all that. So when their boss instructed them to overlook installation of some of the artworks that had been bid on previously. They took the time to have a lunch break.

The restaurant was nice and casual. It was famous for its latest addition. A Polaroid wall for people to make memories. They gave you a free picture if you left a review. Otherwise they'd just put your picture on the wall. Whoever planned it, their plan was working the place was packed.

"What do you want to order?" Jimin asked.

"Chese burger and potato wedges." Taehyung answered perusing the drinks section.

"Fine I'm having the lemon chicken bake pasta. What about drinks?"

"Mojito." Tae decides

"The Berry slushie sounds good to me. You want dessert?" Jimin says.

"We can grab churros on our way back from that bakery we saw while we came here." Tae suggests.

"Ok. I'm going to go order now." Jimin replies.

"Am I seeing things or is that y/n" Tae wonders aloud.

Jimin turns and there you are. A sight for sore eyes. He misses your company but there is nothing he can do about it.

Taehyung tugs his sleeve. "Jiminie ok"

Jimin nods.

You too seem to notice them as the server guides you to the table. You nod your head in greeting but focus on Yeonjun.

Jimin feels a flash of possessiveness and jealousy.

"Do you want to share the milkshake?" Yeonjun asks. "Their large one is cheaper but I can't finish it alone."

"Yes, it's fine." You reply. It's weird to sit across Jimin and Taehyung and not with them.

Their faces look tired but you suppressed your curiosity about them. There was no point of being overly friendly.

"Are you going to the camping trip?" Yeonjun asks.

"I think I will Suyeon send me the brochure. It sounds fun. What about you?"

"If you're going I'll go." He says smoothly causing you to blush.

Jimin can feel his temper rising. My omega his brain screams.

"Yeonjun." You whine and hit him playfully.

"It's true I've already been there with my pack so I'm only going if there's good reason."

"So I'm your good reason?"

"The best."

Taehyung's eyes narrow. Both of them can't help but eavesdrop on your conversation.

You chuckle.

"Sure sure. I'm sure I'm not that special."

"You are. You are special to me." He replies.

The server comes with your meals.

They try to ignore it. They really do but you sharing the Milkshake with Yeonjun's the last straw.

When the time comes to pay the bill you learn that it has been paid and they leave you a note.

Have a nice day Y/n

Love jiminie and tae

"Do you know them y/n?" Yeonjun asks.

"Yes they are omegas I'm close with."

"Oh." Yeonjun said. It wasn't unheard of for omegas to court omegas but it was odd for friends to behave this way. Maybe they were trying to warn me. Yeonjun thought.

Taehyung and Jimin share a look. They need to tell Jungkook. If he doesn't get his act together now he never wouldn't even get a chance to try.

You call your mom when you reach home. You hope she'll let you go on the trip.

"Hello?" You ask as soon as she picks up.

"Hello Y/n everything ok?"

"Yes everything is fine? How's your day going?"

"Good good things have been busy here but it's nice. How's the pack?"

"Good... they're fine." You answer.

"I remember courting your dad. What a time it was. Make sure you enjoy it."

"Mum actually our college is going on a trip can I go. I'll send you the details."

"Ah my baby has grown up. Ofcourse you should go. I will send extra money ok. Buy yourself nice clothes and things you need too. "

"Thank you mum."

"Anything for you. Now I'll check the brochure send me any forms I might need to fill."

"Ok understood. Thank you. Love you. Bye."

"Bye love you too." Your mum replies before hanging up.

You feels so happy you do a little dance of celebration.

You text Suyeon.

Y/n: I got it. I got permission. This is going to be the best trip ever

Suyeon: fr fr. I'm so happy congratulations 🎊 👏 💐 🥳

Y/n: ☺☺

Y/n: let's go shopping 🛍 for cute outfits.

Suyeon: 🤑

You giggle to yourself.

•○•○•

You called Suyeon. You were supposed to go shopping together but you hadn't heard from her all day.

"Hello y/n. What's up?"

"Where are you ? We were supposed to go shopping today?"

"God that was today. I'm sorry actually Soobin's birthday is coming up so I'm with his pack. Rain check. Let's go tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow I have to study for a class test."

"I'm sorry. Honest mistake... why don't you go with the pack."

"The pack."

"Yes its not like you are not close to them. Things might be awkward because of a certain someone but that doesn't mean you shouldn't hang out with the others. I mean you always miss them. And you did go out shopping with them before."

You find yourself being convinced. So you knock on their door.

Yoongi opens the door.

"Is everything ok?" He asks looking over you to see any signs of panic and injury.

"Hi yeah. It's just that Iwasgoingshoppingandwonderedifanyonewouldaccompanyme?"

"Slow down biscuit."

"I sorry I'm a bit nervous."

"No need to be nervous. Now did you need something? Why don't you come in first huh. Its so hot you might get a sunburn."

You nod and follow him inside.

"I wanted to go shopping because there is a University trip and I was wondering if anyone would like to come with me?" You tell Yoongi.

As you enter the living room. You see Jin and Taehyung snacking watching anime in the living room.

"Y/n!!" Taehyung is the first to notice you and calls you excitedly.

"Y/n come sit we were just talking about you. You'll like this one." Jin said patting the empty space next to him.

You felt your heart warm.

"Y/n needs to go shopping for... where are you going?" Yoongi tells them.

"Camping." You supply.

"Oh I have just the thing for you. Guys take care of her."

"Do you want to go right now." Jin asks turning of the TV.

"Yes I was supposed to go with Suyeon and she's busy and then I'm busy so today I'm hoping to find something good but if I go by myself it'll take longer to find myself things."

"Give us 15 minutes." Taehyung says and he rushes into his room.

You nod. Jin goes to the kitchen and brings out cookies.

"Here's a little snack. I will be back quick." Jin says.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome sweetheart."

As Jin leaves you sit on the couch and munch cookies. You feel comforted by the packs scent. You didn't realise how much you missed the pack. In a way you were grateful your best friend made you come to the pack.

Yoongi enters the room smiling fondly at you. He places a box infront of you.

"What's this?" You ask.

"A first aid box and some camping essentials. If you need anything else ask me. Me and Jin hyung go fishing so we have enough camping supplies no need to but things you will only use once. I can teach you some things if you want as well. There is basic first aid supplies and then there are fire supplies to light up campfire post rain as well and other things."

"Thank you." You say touched.

"Anytime biscuit." He replies feeling good.

Taehyung and Jin come out of their rooms dressed up. You can't help but admire how good they look. Jin is dressed in a button down and black ripped jeans and Taehyung's dressed in a tshirt with rips and faded blue jeans and a beanie.

"Come on let's go. Y/n." Jin says.

"Ah yes." You look at the kit.

"You can take this when you come back." Yoongi says.

"Thanks."

"Come on Y/n-ie we are getting late." Taehyung says.

Yoongi comes to drop you all out. Even opening the door for you.

"See you later. Have fun." He says.

You all wave him goodbye.

Jin turns the radio. You sit next to him and Taehyung is in the back but leaning front.

"So do you have any outfits in mind?" Taehyung asks.

"No not really. Something comfortable but also I look good in and avoid material that can get damaged in a camping trip." You reply.

Jin's and Taehyung's phones both go off at the same time. Taehyung looks at the phone and his expression turns into neutral, Jin looks at Taehyung via his back mirror, Taehyung mouths 'tell you later'.

"Is something the matter?" You ask.

"Nothing. Why don't you tell me have you thought about buying boots?" Taehyung answers.

Namjoon: pack meeting to discuss Jungkook and Y/n situation. Everyone needs to be present tonight.

All I'm going to say is that rereading this to collect info I just made up along the way makes me reflect on the bizarre writing process. Anyhow I made notes not to forget from now on.

When I write it feels like going up a mountain but reading was just like walking down a hill.

It's been a while I got busy with life and a little writers block I hope you like it. Let me know your thoughts.

Taglist @jaiuneamesolitaiire ; @mintsugarmy ; @goooood-vibes ; @juju-227592 ; @singukieee ; @zae007live ; @rainbow-bunny-bts ; @fluffy-canada-pancakes ; @bleubirdinthesky ; @kyrah-williams ; @thedarkwinterrose ; @realswimshaddy ; @emu007 ; @jcrml ; @scuzmunkie ; @angel-121 ; @passionandsuga ;@popcatx0 ; @exfolitae ; @raineandskye ; @notsooperfect ; @toriluvsfics ; @northspiritstorm

[zepskies]

Being Human – Part 2

Pairing: Alec McDowell x F. Reader

Summary: Your life made sense before Alec slipped his way in. He unravels your threads without even trying. He frustrates you as easily as he weasels back into your good graces. But you soon realize that this man is worth the challenge.

AN: Thank you for your lovely responses on Part 1!! I'm very excited to bring you the next chapter of Being Human.

Chapter Summary: You know that Alec is hiding something, and it’s more than the fact that he’s been dating another girl behind your back. [Set during 2.11]

Song Inspo: “Sailing” by Avant

Word Count: 6,200

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, two-timing (don’t worry), mentions of Manticore’s training (torture), hurt/comfort, mega feels, smuttishness.

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 2: The Only Place

Alec showing up at your door unannounced isn’t anything new.

This time, however, he comes bearing a raw chicken in a plastic bag and a sack of potatoes. Your eyes go wide as you let him into your apartment.

“Where the hell did you find that,” you gesture at the chicken. In this economy, it might as well have been a five-pound lobster with a side of caviar.

Alec waggles his brows at you and flashes his familiar grin.

“Farmer’s market,” he says. “I fought some rich lady and her Pomeranian for this.”

You extend “gimme gimme” fingers at the bag as you lick your lips. You two are going to eat good tonight. You can even use the bones to make soup for the rest of the week.

Still, something niggles at the back of your mind.

“But this must’ve been so expensive. You didn’t have to do this,” you say, looking up from the bag of goods to your boyfriend’s face. He gives you an easy smile as his arm hooks around your waist.

“Don’t worry about it. I won a few pool game bets off Sketchy. Not to mention a couple of his paychecks,” Alec says.

His smirk makes you shake your head, but you wonder if he’s telling you the truth. He always seems to have cash to spare, despite the fact that he’s only been working at Jam Pony for a few months—barely making minimum wage.

Regardless, you start to prepare the chicken with what seasonings you have in your pantry while Alec peels the potatoes for you. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

Not for the first time, you wonder how he really lives. You’ve never been to his apartment before. Despite being friends with Max (there seems to be history there), he just got to Seattle a few months ago. And as for family, he claimed he had to leave home.

“It was what you’d call…an unstable environment,” he’d said. 

That, you could understand. Your own father had died when you were fairly young. After the Pulse, a virus had swept through and ravaged your hometown in rural Massachusetts.

Unfortunately, a shortage of antibiotics at the local hospitals left your mom without much help to fight off what ailed her body. You’d spread her ashes in the Charles River, where she used to love to paddleboat with you when you were a kid.

Then, you’d packed up what little you had and left the East Coast to make a life for yourself out here, alone. The city had been a challenge for you at first, being a smalltown girl at heart, but the hustle and bustle distracted you in a way you’d needed.

Now, Seattle has become your home, for better or worse. 

Alec knows all of this about you. He knows about your guilty pleasure of fried eggs, rice, and Vienna sausages: one of the ultimate struggle meals. He knows you love ice cream so much, you’d eat it for breakfast if you could.

He also knows you wanted to be a veterinarian, of all things, before the pulse. Now you have no hope or prayer of ever affording college, even if you tried.

But Alec…he still largely remains a mystery to you, no matter how deep he’s wedged himself under your skin.

“You’re really concentrating on that chicken,” Alec says, but his voice startles you, as it’s suddenly very close to your ear. You jump slightly as his arms wrap around your frame from behind.

You giggle a little, but you tilt your head to allow him access when his lips find your neck.

“Have I thanked you for this yet?” you ask. “I can’t remember the last time I had honest to God poultry…that also didn’thave a 50% chance of being radioactive.”

You feel the shape of Alec’s smile against your skin.

“No, as a matter of fact, but feel free to express your gratitude sexually,” he rejoins.

You have to laugh in earnest at that. You wash your hands in the sink before you turn in his arms and take his face gently in your hands. You bring him down to you for a sweeter kiss than he expected.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his lips. “It’s nice, having someone who thinks about me.”

His brows furrow a bit at that. He didn’t think bringing you an unexpected meal would be all that impressive, but…he also knows how long you’ve been alone.

For reasons he can’t tell you, it makes a twinge of guilt hit him behind the ribs.

All throughout dinner, and afterwards, Alec is hooked on the familiar soap opera playing on the TV in the living room. You both are sitting on the couch, but you’re half watching him, amused by his reactions. He’s absolutely glued to an episode you’ve already seen.

“You’re even more obsessed than I am,” you tease.

Alec spares you a wan look. “I just wanna know whose baby it is.”

A teasing smile forms across your face as you shift onto your knees and lean over to him, as if whispering a secret in his ear.

“And it’s actually twins,” you tease.

His expression of enrapture shifts with a wry edge. 

“Twins, huh?”

That seems to take him out of his enjoyment, somehow.

You frown a little. “You okay?”

“Always,” he responds, glancing at you. He visibly lightens up, pulling you into his lap with a muttered, Come ‘ere.

You giggle at his manhandling and oblige him with a few stolen kisses.

You feel bold enough to push him back to lie on the couch, and he actually lets you. His hands find your hips while you move to straddle his. Your fingertips drift down his chest as you consider him with a tilt of your head.

“Why haven’t I ever been to your place?” you ask. You draw an imaginary pattern across his chest, grazing him with your nails. His skin prickles under his clothes, but he stares up at you and shrugs without giving into your distraction.

“What, do you live above a strip club or something?” you add, smirking.

Alec’s expression matches yours as he squeezes your hips. “I like coming to you.”

Letting out a breath through your nose, you lean down and try plying him with slow, nipping kisses down his jawline, then his neck.

“Hmm, I still think you’re evading,” you say between kisses. “Tell me. Why haven’t you invited me back to your apartment?”

“Aren’t you getting demanding,” he teases back, even though his breath hitches when you nip a bit harder, just under his ear. Your deft hands run over his chest, toying with his senses. Already the scent of the soap you use has invaded his nose, like it always does. Jasmine.

“You knew this about me,” you say against his skin. He feels the movements of your lips like an added tease.

“Yeah,” he acknowledges. His smirk deepens. “Not gonna lie, I kinda like it.”

You smile. “So answer the question. Or do I have to punish you?”

Fuck, sweetheart, be my guest, Alec thinks. But he forces himself to focus on your words, reading between the lines of what you’re really fishing for.

“My place isn’t all that safe,” he says.

You snort. “Safe is relative in this city. Besides, I thought you said my apartment was questionable at best.”

“I said you needed better security.”

“You’re my security.”

Alec’s smirk returns at that. “Is that all I’m good for?”

“Better than a doorman,” you joke, leaning down to him again. “You deliver right to my door.”

“You think you’re so clever,” Alec says. Your lips find his in a kiss, and they lure him back into the pull of you. How easy it would be, just to let you “catch” him. Every night. Every day. 

Your arms cage his head as you finally lay down on top of him, slowly rolling your hips against his. Both of you feel his hardness twitch against your thigh. You smirk against his lips. 

“And right on time,” you quip. 

“All right, that’s enough outta you,” Alec says, and he claims you with a more demanding kiss. His fingers sink into your hair tightly.  

But you press your hand to his cheek, making him pause for a moment. The amusement fades from his eyes the longer he stares into yours. You’re not teasing or joking anymore. 

You lower down and kiss him with meaning. With tenderness. 

You don’t know how it makes that coil of guilt grip him like a vice.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” you mutter.

Your exasperation has reached an all-time high.

You’re really trying not to clock this bitch in the throat. When she grabs you by the hair, however, you have no choice.

Your punch lands squarely up the bridge of Marina’s nose with a crack that makes even Original Cindy wince.

You feel sick to your stomach.

Not just because your coworker and former friend Marina has stumbled to the floor, looking up at you with ire and a bloody nose. But because you just found out that you and Marina have somehow been dating the same man.

Alec had been standing off to the side with a semblance of concern behind his eyes (but mostly shock). You turn to him next, and he freezes. All the nearby Jam Pony employees watch the scene as you grasp Alec’s arm and warn him with only your eyes—it’s in his best interest to follow you to the lockers.

He acquiesces, even though his shifty eyes say he wants to bolt. Cindy’s shaking her head with a flat expression. Max is outright glaring at him. Sketchy is grinning, shoots him a thumbs up as the two of you pass by.

Alec heeds your unspoken demand, but he crosses his arms once you let go of him.

“Apparently, Marina claims you’re her boyfriend,” you accuse. You press two fingers into his chest. “Despite the fact that you’ve only been dating her for what, two weeks tops? A relief to me, since I thought we’d been dating for almost two months.”

Alec laughs nervously and rubs the back of his head. “Well, you know, we never did say that we were exclusive—”

“Did you sleep with her?” you ask.

He falters at the look on your face. So incredibly hurt, but still holding out a sliver of hope.

The longer he stays quiet, the more that too starts to dim.

You can’t help yourself. You slap him across the face.

Alec takes the hit, making it look like it actually hurt him in the way he snaps his face to the side. He’s more shocked than anything, though he knows he doesn’t have a right to be.

Your lower lip trembles, but you also gasp with a wince and hold your hand, because somehow his face felt like a slab of iron. Shit! Does he have a metal plate in his head or something?

Alec sighs. “You okay there?”

He reaches for your hand, but you back away from him.

“Don’t touch me. Never touch me again,” you say shakily, through tears.

You don’t want to admit that your heart is breaking. You fucking idiot. You should’ve known your instincts would be right about Alec McDowell.

You grab your clipboard and your forgotten backpack from the floor by your locker, and you walk away from him before your tears start to fall.

In the aftermath of the fight, Normal raises hell about the fact that Marina’s quitting. You can’t really give a shit, but you’re not about to follow suit. You’ve never, and will never let a man get between you and your money.

You take your deliveries for the morning and start on your route.

And if you have to park your bike in an alleyway to cry without the prying eyes of your coworkers, then that’s your right as a woman.

Alec hides it well, but inside, his chest aches the way his face should. He doesn’t altogether know or want to think about why.

So he worms his way into a delivery run with Max to distract himself (and to escape Jam Pony HQ). Max gives him hell, as expected, but he tries to ignore her and get this job over with so he can drink himself into a stupor at Crash tonight.

…Or try to. Getting drunk is a difficult feat with his genetics, not to mention a very expensive pastime.

Right now, he and Max are riding their bikes through the richey rich side of town, so at least it’s cleaner. Manicured hedges and tall gates surround every house here. It’s almost kind of familiar, though he’s too focused on following Max to care much.

“I mean, it’s not like I intended to date ‘em both at the same time,” he defends himself. “And then when it turned out I was dating them both at the same time, it’s not like I didn’t intend to tell both girls about the other one. …You know, eventually.”

It’s like the universe itself calls himself out on his lie when the front tire of his bike skids. He pulls to a sharp stop in front of an iron gate and falls over onto the asphalt, but his reflexes are quick, and he picks himself up with a forced spring in his step.

“But let’s be real for a moment, shall we?” he says. “I mean, suppose I did tell them. What would happen, huh? Same thing. Big fight. Lots of anger and resentment and recriminations, and then who wins? Nobody.”

Max continues to watch him with a deadpan frown. “Well, at least in this case, you won.”

“Exactly,” Alec smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. His expression falls anyway. “Well, no. Seeing as though neither of them will be likely to speak to me, which makes any kind of sex a virtual impossibility…at least for a couple of days.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Clearly both of them lost their damn minds to even give you the time of day.”

Alec has a witty retort on the tip of his tongue, but it’s waylaid by a memory that used to make him smile. It now just settles heavily in his chest.

Two Months Ago...

Just then, the bartender slides you a beer you’ve already ordered. You thank him and give Alec a smile.

“Got it covered, thanks,” you reply, sipping the froth off your drink.

Alec sighs and crosses his arms. “When are you gonna stop putting the freeze on me?”

“When I’m not part of your internal checklist of Breasts on Legs,” you answer.

Alec scoffs and holds his chest.

“That’s hurtful,” he claims. “It really is.”

But he shifts toward you in his seat, cutting off your smile. You tense up and blush at his proximity, making his grin deepen.

Damn, she smells good, he thinks.

“Besides,” he says, “I always save the best for last.”

He knows he’s making you nervous in a good way. He can sense it, though you eye him wryly. He means to go in for the kill, but he’s thwarted when Original Cindy slides into the seat on your other side. She tosses you a wink, the way women do when they have their own unspoken language.

You then smirk in Alec’s face.

“Keep trying. Maybe someday I’ll lose my mind,” you say, with a teasing raise of brows.

He’s still amused as he shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable. Insulting, yet, still somehow endearing.”

He means it. Every time you turn him down, he’s genuinely disappointed.

But if you ever change your mind, he’ll be right here waiting.

That memory falters as Alec stares up at the familiar mansion. He just doesn’t remember that he’s been here before—not until he rings the doorbell. That sound dislodges a fragment in his mind.

One that makes him hide from the surveillance cameras on instinct. It has him throwing the package over the gate and grabbing Max to guide her away from the house before they’ve been able to get a signature.

And a name rings through all the clutter. A name that was once seared into his mind is wrenched open like a badly sewn wound.

Rachel.

You don’t see Alec for a few days. Which is good, because you’ve been avoiding him. 

Until he finally shows up for work, and somehow, he looks off. He lacks the jovial, devil-may-care attitude he wears like a second skin. 

He glances at you down the line at your locker, catching your gaze.  

You still can’t bear it. You turn your head away, feeling like a coward. You hear his locker door slam loudly and he leaves without even getting his schedule from Normal. 

You rest your head against the cool metal of your locker.

“Where the hell’re you going, mister!” Normal calls after his former favorite employee.

Despite your better judgment, you sigh and push away from your locker to face your boss.

“He’s got a stomach bug. Real nasty,” you call out.

Normal’s frown deepens, but his expression softens from his hardened edge.

“Oh. Well…that’s all he needed to say,” he sniffs. He hands what would’ve been Alec’s load of packages onto Sketchy, who gives him a flat look.

“Go, get to work. Bip, bip!” Normal points a finger at him, then dismissively at the door.

Sketchy rolls his eyes, but he makes sure to send you a “thankful” look before he heads out. You give him a sardonic smile. Serves him right for taking Alec’s side in this whole messy situation, like the man children they both are.

Original Cindy comes to your side and lightly bumps your hip. She’s a strong support as always, and you give her a small smile.

“Come on, boo. I’m buyin’ your drinks at Crash tonight,” she says. You loop your arm through hers.

“Thank God for you, OC,” you breathe, though with a smile that feels a little more like yourself.

“Ladies night, it is,” she snaps playfully.  

And if that’s what tonight is, then you’re going to look good. No ratty jeans and boots meant for walking. After work, you dive into the depths of your closet and find an old favorite of yours: a black leather skirt and a lacey top, open-backed and a sweetheart neckline. You complete the look with a pair of heeled ankle boots and the only shade of red lipstick you own.

You just don’t count on Alec wanting a night out too.

He hangs out at Crash all the time. You can’t be surprised, you remind yourself, when you spot him at the bar. Except he doesn’t wear his usual suave confidence. No, he’s hunched over a glass of whiskey as he sits alone in front of the bartender. He doesn’t even notice you, Max, and Cindy as you guys claim your usual table in the back.

You can’t help it though. Your eyes keep drifting back to him.

Both Max and Cindy catch you, with something like sympathy on the latter’s face.

“I’ve never seen him like this before,” Cindy remarks. “Anguished, and all Heathcliff-like.”

She’s right, you think. He’s been like this for days.

Max seems to know him better than anyone. You turn to her in askance.

“This isn’t just because of…what happened, is it?” you say.

Max sighs and shakes her head. “No. I don’t think so.”

But she’s either unable, or unwilling to give you any more to go on.

…Goddamn it, you think, as you contemplate doing something stupid, like going over there to talk to him. You know you shouldn’t give him the time of day, but God help you, you still care about this asshole.

You heave a sigh. “I’ll be back in a few. And if not, I give you full permission to haul my ass out of this bar.”

“Don’t do it,” Cindy advises, with the tone of someone who knows you’re not going to listen.

You get up from the table and give your friends a placating hand. You roll your shoulders and force your feet to move—towards the bar.

The seat to Alec’s left is empty, and you take it. His gaze slides toward you, and he’s forced to do a double take. His familiar once-over has you almost smirking, but even that is missing something. It’s like something sucked the life right out of him.

He gives you a haphazard smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Thought you weren’t talking to me,” he says.

“How many of those are you going to drink?” you ask, gesturing at the third glass of whiskey in his hand. He glances down at it, then at nothing as his gaze travels away from you.

“Until I can’t feel the burn anymore,” he replies. Even his voice isn’t like him, dull and wry.

You hesitate, but you surprise even yourself by offering an olive branch.

“Look, if you want to talk about what happened…or anything else—” you try, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally looking at you again. “I should’ve made it clear from the beginning that I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

Your heart plummets. Your mouth works past shock and fresh hurt. You fight the sting in your eyes as your mouth flattens.

“So, you and I were just casual,” you confirm. “None of it meant anything to you?”

He looks over at you and pins you there. There’s a glimmer of something behind the cool green of his eyes. Like maybe part of him wants to rebel and give you hope. 

He stays quiet. 

So with tears in your eyes, you close out your tab, and you leave the bar to go home. You can’t even bring yourself to look over at your friends. You’re too embarrassed.

Meanwhile, Alec focuses on the contents of his glass, even though he knows nothing will ever be enough to numb him. 

Now that Manticore’s psychological reprogramming has crumbled, now that he remembers what happened two years ago—and what he did—nothing will make his fractured, bloody insides feel like nothing ever again.

Max and Original Cindy see the entire scene play out from across the bar. Cindy shakes her head with a hum of disappointment that black women have perfected.

Max’s answer is to get up, with much the same reluctance as you had, albeit for different reasons.

“I know I’m gonna regret this,” she sighs.

“Take your time,” Cindy says. She already has her flirtatious eye on another woman by the pool table.

Max smiles in amusement and leaves her friend to her business. She goes to her fellow transgenic and slips into the same seat you occupied moments before. Alec barely looks up at her.

“Call me crazy but I get the feeling you’re in some kind of jam,” she says. “More than just about your messy ex situation, though that was a nice cold shoulder you gave her.”

“Okay, you’re crazy,” he replies, raising his glass back to his lips.

Max presses her luck, asking about the locket Alec has always kept. At Manticore, he’d kept it in his shoe. He’d pull it out at night and try to remember why it was important, but he never could. All he knew was that it made him feel better, and he’d go to sleep easier.

Max saw it on him days ago. And now they both know it had belonged to Rachel Barrister, daughter of Robert Barrister. The man Alec was once sent to kill.

He’d both failed and succeeded.

“Curiosity killed the cat, Max,” Alec says snidely. “Stay out of my business.”

“Fine,” she says, but part of her still worries about him. And she worries about you. “Look, I know we don’t always get along—”

“Nicely understated,” he cuts, and sets down his glass a bit too hard on the counter. The bottom of it fractures. “Barkeep!”

“But if you’re in some kind of trouble and you need my help, then you should ask now, and not when it’s too late and everything’s all messed up, like you usually do,” she says.

“Well, I appreciate the offer, Max. I really do,” he says dryly, “but you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“You know, I would, see, but…you wouldn’t understand,” Alec says. He points out that Max and the rest of her little X5 friends left Manticore (escaped) when they were kids. The truth is, she has no idea what he’s endured ever since.

Manticore cracked down on the next series of X5s like him, and every series afterwards—they all paid the price for what Manticore saw as the failure of Max’s unit. Lax training. Traitors. Deserters. 

Alec didn’t see it at the time, not completely. He now knows just how deeply fucked up he was.

And is.

There’s no fixing it, like there’s no use trying to fix a broken toy.

So Max eventually walks away from him, just like you did. Just like he should have done for Rachel.

He knows he hurt you, but he also thinks it’s working out better this way. Better that you walk away from him, before he gets you hurt even worse.

It happens in stages, the way Alec’s memory unlocks. 

It sorts through the psychological methods of torture and erasure Manticore used to try and scrape the Barrister assignment from his mind. Not only did it not work, but Manticore still won. No matter what he does, he can’t block out the pain or the rush of memories. He can’t not feel. 

It’s a frustrating state of being for a soldier. 

Alec’s laissez faire way of coasting through life after Manticore burned down was his version of stoicism, of surviving. 

But if this is living, then he doesn’t want it. 

That’s why he loses focus. He runs headlong into the trap his rational mind is warning him of—into that mansion, where Robert Barrister has led him with the torturous siren song of Rachel’s favorite piano sonata. The very same one he taught her, just two years ago.

Alec wants to rip the notes out of his head, but he still goes to the house.

Somehow, a fifty-five-year-old man gets the drop on Alec, a soldier. A transgenic. 

Barrister knows who and what he is. He’s been in the game long enough against Manticore to know who he used to sell his products to, but he can’t quite pull the trigger on that gun, even though Alec goads him on. Shouting at him to do it. End his misery. 

Rachel. 

Max saves his ass again. It’s a frankly embarrassing number she’s racked up on that count, as she stuns Barrister and knocks him out before he can deliver the kill shot directly into Alec’s temporal lobe. 

Alec doesn’t care. 

He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care, until Robert tells him where she is, upstairs in her room. Alec travels down the familiar corridor, and he sees her again. 

Rachel. Oh God…

She’s wrapped up in wires because of him; in a coma, slowly dying for the past two years. She pulled her father from the car that was meant to explode and end his life. Rachel fell. 

Alec sinks down into a chair beside her bed. For a moment all he can do is stare at her pale face.

Because of him. His job. His mission, that he couldn’t complete, because he tried to save her. It was too late, she paid the price, and it was all because of him.

Because he couldn’t fight the training drilled deep into his mind. He couldn’t fight his captors, not hard enough.

She paid the price. 

Alec sits at her bedside for as long as he can. He slips her locket back into her cold hand. He holds her as close as he dares, and begs for forgiveness through near-silent tears. 

“I didn’t understand,” he whispers brokenly. “I didn’t understand…how much I loved you.”

Alec attends Rachel’s funeral, a few weeks later. He stands almost a quarter of a mile away, but he can still hear the service. He goes to her grave, and he accepts the caustic words from her father. 

“Never come back here,” Robert hisses. “I wanted to kill you. I hated you that much. But I’m still her father. I want her to be proud of me…and I don’t want to be like you.”

Alec silently accepts this. He knows what he is. Now, he knows what he’s done is unforgivable. 

He also knows it’s time to let her go. 

So he says a silent goodbye before he walks away from the grave and the cemetery. He intends to go home… 

He doesn’t quite make it there.

Alec is forced to walk through a torrent of rain. He barely feels it beating down on his head, back, and shoulders. 

Somehow, he ends up dripping wet at your apartment. His tall frame takes up your doorway when you open it to him. 

This feels familiar, you think, as you take him in. Once again, you’re dressed in just your pajamas of choice: a loose shirt over a pair of shorts. Your hair is tossed into a bun. 

You aren’t sure if it’s rain or tears dripping down his wet cheeks. His eyes are red enough to convince you of the latter. 

“What’re you—”

“I’m sorry,” he says. His voice is a hint unsteady.

Your mouth falls open the slightest bit, but eventually, you sigh.

“Alec,” is all you can say. Go away, are words you can’t force past your lips, even if you have every right to say them.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I uh…I don’t know why I’m here.”

“You don’t know?” you repeat, your eyes widening incredulously. 

He shakes his head, but he aims to leave. This was a mistake, he thinks.

You don’t know what to make of him right now. Hasn’t he hurt you enough?

He seems different though. He looks like he’s one step shy of falling apart, and you’ve never seen such rawness in his eyes.

Something inside you breaks, and you grab his wet hand before he can escape down the hall. You’re persistent in leading him inside your apartment, where it’s warm. You offer him some dry clothes he left behind last month.

After he gets changed, he sits on your couch with you. His silence is so confusing, you’re not sure what to do. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Me,” he says, chuckling humorlessly. “I’m what’s wrong. I uh…I should go.”

He gets to his feet, all twitching nervous energy, and again he tries to leave. You feel compelled to stand with him and follow him to the door.

“Wait,” you say, holding the door closed. Your hand lands on his arm, imploring with everything you have. “Alec, just tell me what the hell is going on. You’re scaring me.”

His eyes drag up your body, and slowly meet yours.

I didn’t understand…

Alec can’t help it; he raises a gentle hand to touch your cheek. You don’t deserve someone like him wrecking your life. He can’t be fixed, and he doesn’t want to break you too. 

You hold his hand to your face. “Alec. Talk to me, please.”

In your face, he finds concern and the threat of tears, and his heart continues to hemorrhage. 

There’s still room for you there. You’ve carved out a place in what’s left of it, without him realizing. He’s getting better at seeing the warning signs. 

You let out a shaky breath. “Just tell me the truth. Are you in trouble? Are you here because you have nowhere else to go, or—”

“Honestly, yeah,” he finally admits.

You deflate in response. What the hell?! 

Now you’re just about ready to push him out of your apartment and warn him that he better not come back. His grip on your arms stops you.

“This is the only place…” he continues, his jaw working. “Can’t seem to move my feet anywhere else.”

He means what he says, even if it’s not coming out right. After seeing Rachel’s prone body in her bed, coming back to face you is one of the hardest things he’s ever done. And yet, there's nowhere else he could go that felt right. He meets your eyes and notices the way you’re holding your breath.

“Uh, I kinda lied to you before,” he confesses. Your brows raise at that. 

“When?” you challenge.

He licks his dry lips. “At the bar. Last time we met.”

“So when you said,” you struggle to articulate it, because just the thought of it still hurts. “What you and I had…that it didn’t mean anything…”

His hands slide down from your arms, to hold your hands in his.

“I was an idiot. I didn’t know what it meant,” Alec says. “I do now.”

Your eyes flood with tears as you let go of a heavy breath. Alec releases your hands to hold your face with shaking hands. In turn, you hold his wrists steady. 

"You really hurt me, you know," you say. Your voice is a near whisper, but your words cut into him all the same.

"I know," he replies, as his thumbs caress your skin. "I'm sorry about that. About everything...which is why we probably shouldn't do this."

He really says that, even as his hands drift down to your neck, where he can feel your pulse beating and picking up speed. Alive.

“What?” you ask, with genuine confusion. You pull away from him a little, frowning up at him. "Then what are we doing right now? Either you want to be with me, or you don't, Alec."

His eyes meet yours.

You’re so real, so honest. Alec starts to think, to understand that this is what lured him in. It had him coming back to you every time you turned him down. It kept him coming back to you when you were his. 

She can still be yours, he thinks. It’s a selfish thought, but here he is.   

So he draws you in and kisses you deeply.

He doesn’t know how this can still feel right, even though his chest pulses with pain. But maybe, being with you is a different kind of pain. Maybe it’s not pain at all. 

You asked him for the truth though. He can’t give you everything, but he can give you one piece of the puzzle; perhaps the only one that matters. He parts from you, opening his eyes to find your face. Your eyes are still closed, and when you open them, you start to blush. 

It almost makes him smile, but his brain is still warring with his heart.

“I’ve only ever cared about one person in my life…and I lost her,” he says. “I’m not good at this.”

“How,” you ask, a bit hesitantly. “How did you lose her?”

His throat is tight. It’s all so fresh, he doesn’t even know how he gets out the words.

“She died,” he admits.

Your expression falls, and you shake your head.

“I’m sorry,” you reply, holding onto his shirt. “I’ve lost people too.”

He thumbs at your cheek. He sees your sympathy so clearly across your face, though he doesn’t know how you can still give that to him. It goes against everything he’s ever been taught, and everything he’s learned in order to survive. 

He can’t help but let you back in, just like you’re about to do for him.  

“It’s really this simple. If you want me to forgive you, if you really want to be here, with me, exclusively…then all you have to do is stay,” you say at last. Your lips press together for a moment. “But if you play me again, Alec, I swear to God—”

“No. No swearing’s necessary,” he says, and kisses you again. He’s surprised he’s able to smile, just a little, and he does so against your lips. 

You break from him to grip his shirt and glare up at him. “You understand me?”

Alec’s smile deepens a fraction. He brushes your hair away from your face. 

“Indeed, I do, Miss Ma’am.”

It takes you a beat, but you roll your eyes, despite a lingering blush.

“Ugh, don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” he starts to tease. “You seem to like giving out orders, I just thought you’d like a title change to go with it.”

You slap his chest half-heartedly. “Shut up.” 

“See? More demands,” he quips. “I don’t know if I can work in this environment—”

You pull him down for a kiss to shut him up indefinitely. 

And like it so often has, it leads into your room with the two of you falling haphazardly into your bed. He situates himself between your legs and traps you underneath him as he kisses a wet path up your neck. You arch against him and your hands dive under his shirt to help him wrench it off. 

It’s all very fast, and a bit frantic until he has you naked underneath him. 

His hand finds your cheek, touching softly, like he’s afraid to break you. There’s pain in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. Your brows furrow, though you caress a hand up the back his neck. He shudders when you unintentionally brush his barcode. 

“Alec, what happened?” you ask.

He shakes his head. He wishes he could tell you. He wants to tell you…everything. It scares him, because he also wants to run out of here, putting as much distance between himself and you as possible. 

But again, he’s selfish. This time, he understands why his heart is pulsing with both pain and longing when he stares into your eyes for too long.

“I can’t,” he says. “Not tonight… Can we just focus on the good part here?”

Despite yourself, you smile with a small huff. You take his face in your hands and bring him down to meet your searing kiss. 

The good part, indeed.

AN: And here's an angsty Part 2! lol Let me know what you think! 💜

You might want to buckle up for where we're going next...

Next Time:

He takes one corner of your towel and peels it off you slowly, until your body is bare for his gaze. His eyes take in every inch of you before they make it back to your face.

He smiles, taking down the messy bun from your head to have your hair fanning wildly across his pillows. Your hands move across his chest and further down, but he puts a stop to your exploration. He grasps your wrists and pins them down to the bed with a strength you can’t escape.

You raise your brows. “Alec?”

“Trust me,” he says, dipping down to kiss your neck. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

You suck in a breath. Far be it from you to argue with that.

“Is this one of those sexual favors?” you tease. He laughs against your skin.

“You’re about to find out.”

Keep Reading: Part 3

Series Masterlist

Alec McDowell Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Alec M. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989

@waters-2567 @iwishiwas-sleeping @jessjad @pieandmonsters @akshi8278 @honeybabycherry @deans-spinster-witch @angelbabyyy99 @jackles010378 @nancymcl @idiotdyslexic @heartlessdelusions

[fattofitsure]

Easy weight loss Meal plans ideas for week

Here's a simple meal plan for a week focused on weight loss:

Day 1:

Breakfast: Greek yogurt with berries and a sprinkle of chia seeds.

Lunch: Grilled chicken salad with mixed vegetables.

Dinner: Baked salmon with steamed broccoli and quinoa.

Day 2:

Breakfast: Oatmeal with sliced bananas and a teaspoon of honey.

Lunch: Turkey and vegetable wrap with whole-grain tortilla.

Dinner: Stir-fried tofu with assorted colorful vegetables.

Day 3:

Breakfast: Smoothie with spinach, banana, and almond milk.

Lunch: Quinoa bowl with black beans, corn, and salsa.

Dinner: Grilled shrimp with asparagus and brown rice.

Day 4:

Breakfast: Whole-grain toast with avocado and poached egg.

Lunch: Lentil soup with a side of mixed green salad.

Dinner: Baked chicken breast with sweet potato wedges.

Day 5:

Breakfast: Cottage cheese with sliced peaches and a handful of almonds.

Lunch: Chickpea and vegetable stir-fry.

Dinner: Zucchini noodles with tomato sauce and lean ground turkey.

Day 6:

Breakfast: Scrambled eggs with spinach and whole-grain toast.

Lunch: Quinoa salad with mixed vegetables and feta cheese.

Dinner: Grilled cod with roasted Brussels sprouts and quinoa.

Day 7:

Breakfast: Overnight oats with almond milk, berries, and a drizzle of maple syrup.

Lunch: Turkey and vegetable kebabs with a side of hummus.

Dinner: Baked tilapia with steamed green beans and wild rice.

Click here for vegan lose weight recipes ✅✅✅

Remember to stay hydrated, control portion sizes, and incorporate healthy snacks like fruits or nuts between meals if needed. Adjust portions based on your individual needs and consult with a nutritionist or healthcare professional for personalized advice.

[ilexdiapason]

(part one here) (part three here)

(CW: character experiences a severe derealization episode)

“D’you want me to order pizza?” Oli asks, somewhat redundantly, because Martyn is twenty-two (according to the police report) and a gamer, of course he’s not gonna turn down free pizza.

“Oh, god, yeah,” says Martyn. And, a second later - “Please.”

He fires up the Domino’s website obediently, pulls up the deals and picks one that’ll leave him some leftovers for when Martyn’s long gone tomorrow. Meateor for himself, as usual, and then he spins the laptop round on his knees to present Martyn with the options. “What are you having?”

Martyn stares at the screen, unblinking, for a few too many seconds.

“... Something wrong?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, no, just. Um. Been a while.”

“D’you just want a margherita, then? Keep it easy?”

“No, I don’t - I was -” he grimaces, shakes his head roughly, and thumbs at the fabric of his shirt where the tea stain sits “- trying to remember what I liked.”

“Vegetarian?”

“No,” Martyn responds immediately.

“Olives? Mushrooms?”

“I’m not picky -”

“Pineapple on pizza?”

Martyn snorts. “Okay, yeah, I don’t much like pineapple on anything, I’ll give you that.”

“But as a concept.”

“No problem with it.”

“Then, Marty, my friend, you’ve lost the plot.”

He sits another moment, deliberating. Then - “Sweetcorn.”

“Yeah?”

“I like sweetcorn on pizza.”

“Alright,” says Oli, and spins the laptop round again to check the options. “Vegi Supreme or Chicken Feast?”

“I’ll take the chicken,” Martyn says, resolute.

Oli sends the order through, with potato wedges on the side, because it’s his money and he’s gonna pick the extra items for the deal. Then, once the little order tracker with the fake AI has popped up and started telling him stupid jokes to amuse him for the next 25 minutes or so, he turns back to look at Martyn. “Can I ask something?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Ask what?”

“And you don’t need to tell me if it’s, like, personal or whatever, just… what were you eating? If you haven’t seen pizza in however long?”

Martyn makes a face. “Whatever, honestly. It wasn’t a big worry for me - I mean, not like I could - yeah, it was just whatever. Not dead yet, so I’m clearly not malnourished.”

Oli cocks his head. “Whatever like whatever you were given, or whatever like you were scavenging?”

“Like - uh - like - I mean, I wouldn’t say scavenging, that’s - like whatever I could find? I know I’m not explaining this very clearly, it’s -”

“No, no, I said you didn’t need to tell me! Don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.” (It’s not like Oli doesn’t want to know, but he doesn’t need to know if it’s going to make Martyn uncomfortable to explain it.)

“Anyway. It wasn’t bad, it was just… y’know how Covid makes it so you can’t taste anything? Little bit like that.”

“Original Covid did. I don’t know about all the new variants.”

“Ah, yeah, heard about those! Did they ever run out of Greek letters?”

“Don’t think so, thank goodness.”

“Yeah,” Martyn nods.

Beside Oli, the little Domino’s robot lets him know that their pizzas are now going in the oven.

It feels odd, to be sitting here on the sofa, taking an extended lunch break with somebody who he’s only known from Minecraft servers and scratchy in-game prox chat. It feels odd to know that he’s doing hospitality for a man six or seven years younger than him, a friend who’s never answered out-of-character about himself before today. It feels odd to know that he’s actually looking at the real Martyn - not some rat, not some pirate, just… some guy.

Oli swallows and steels himself for what he’s about to say. “Erm - again. Don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But… besides this whole Doc thing, what was your life like? Your normal life?”

Martyn’s expression flips into something unreadable for a second, then mellows again into neutrality. “Yeah, uh - nothing special, really. Born and raised in Nottingham, did alright at school, got the grades for uni but I ended up deferring. I was trying to get a job in my gap year but I didn’t really wanna end up behind the counter at GAME or McDonald’s or anything, and nowhere else ever got back to my applications, so… spent a lot of time at home, playing video games. No girlfriend, no mates who really stuck after college; not much worth writing home about. I wasn’t much of anything, really, not then.”

Oli is, he decides, going to ignore the implications of that comment. “Family?”

“Mum, dad, sister who’s been moved out for a few years. Dog. Oh, I hope he’s still alive, that’d suck if I never see my dog again.”

“Fingers crossed,” says Oli.

“What about you? What’s the home life of OrionSound like, when he’s not at the computer?”

“Oh, Marty, my entire life is at the computer,” he quips. “I work in software development. I actually did my degree in psychology, but you’d be surprised, there’s not a lot of room in the market unless you’ve done a load of other certifications as well. I guess I could have got a therapy licence, but as it turned out, I’d spent enough time in first year making terrible visual novels that by the time I got into the workforce I technically knew how to code. AI snapping at our heels now, of course, but it’s probably gonna eat itself by Christmas, so I’m not too worried about that.”

“I dunno,” says Martyn, “I’ve seen some pretty advanced AI.”

“So, yeah. I spent a few years freelancing, contracting for one place or another - I’m quick, which people seem to like, although that’s mostly so I can get back to gaming as soon as possible. And then… like two and a bit years ago? Yeah, would’ve been two years this past July… then I got a really nice position at CHESTCorp, it’s mostly remote work, I drive down to London every few months so they can “review my performance in a controlled environment”, whatever that means, and they pay well enough that I can afford this place on my own, which is -”

Oli stops talking when he notices Martyn’s face has gone white as a sheet.

“What’s wrong?”

“I knew it,” Martyn murmurs.

“What?”

“I knew it,” he says again, stronger, “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you, I knew you - I thought - he told me this would happen, I’ve seen it happen, I should’ve just learned from my mistakes the fucking first time, but clearly I’m stupid.”

“Marty, what are you -”

“Didn’t wanna believe this shit could follow me out here, but evidently it - oh. Oh, no, no, you fucking - it’s not over, is it? I’m still - that’s why nobody picked up the phone, it wasn’t real, you couldn’t synthesise my mother’s voice, I’d know! You’re CHEST, of course you’re CHEST, the one person I thought - I mean, I hoped - you’re fucking cruel, is what this is, it’s cruel, and you’re not fooling me twice. Don’t know how you got the food this realistic, but -”

“Martyn,” Oli tries to interrupt, “are you okay?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Martyn says through gritted teeth. “You’ve given the game away now, CHEST agent. Should’ve known it wasn’t real. Should’ve known I couldn’t get out that easy. Or you caught up before I got out, one of you fuckers, planted something, or - I don’t know, made me think I was finally out of this stupid place. Made me think it was fine so I’d start giving up secrets. Well, you’re not getting another word out of me, you fucking idiot. Some interrogation room you’ve got here, huh? This your best simulation? Get a better model for your TV, I’ll tell you that for free, the reflection’s too smooth.”

Well. Er. “Martyn,” he tries again, “I think you might be having a flashback?”

“Nothing back about it, you bastard. Giving me false hope like that. Thank god I don’t actually know Doc’s name, or you’d have been able to track him too, wouldn’t you? Fuck you. Don’t ever bring my family into this again, any of you.”

“Okay,” Oli says slowly, rifling through his psychology knowledge for grounding techniques, “you think this isn’t real, right now?”

“I know it isn’t real,” Martyn spits, “and it’s getting worse the more I’m poking at it. See, look -” he stomps a foot at the floor “- you’re losing resolution trying to keep it running.”

The carpet, which has not changed and is certainly not lower resolution than it was when they got here, endures being scuffed at. Oli doesn’t want to actually lay a hand on Martyn right now, though; he’s got a bad feeling that’ll end in something much worse than being kicked. Instead he dips into the kitchen across the room, pops an ice cube out of the tray faster than he’s ever needed to, and brings it back over to the sofa. “Here,” he says, chucking it at Martyn’s lap, “that real enough for you?”

Martyn catches the projectile reflexively. He stills, silent, both hands cupped around the ice cube, staying in the air.

Then, gradually, his eyes unfocused… his arms lower.

He opens them and stares down at the piece of ice in his palm, and, slowly and almost imperceptibly, begins to rock forward.

The Domino’s tracker chimes again. Their food has finished cooking, and it’s being delivered by Amal. Oli almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it.

Whatever Martyn’s running from, it must go a lot deeper than he thought.

(part five here)

[invinciblerodent]

Baldur's Gate 3's Potato Chowder - RECIPE

So a few days ago, I found this recipe around the start of act 3, near the kitchen of the Temple of the Open Hand in Rivington:

[Screenshot of recipe as it appears in-game. Exact steps will be transcribed below, within the recipe.]

It looked... honestly very simple and not dissimilar from a Hungarian potato főzelék/stew (which is a very cheap and homely peasant dish I love), so I just made it for lunch today, and guys....

this soup is uh. really fucking good. I tried following it as close to the letter as possible, but since it's quite vague, I did have to improvise a fair bit- but it's very cheap and easy to make, it's warm and comforting while still quite light (there are like. NO spices in there, it's a very European-feeling dish), and I'd say it's surprisingly filling, but it's. It's potatoes, so there's nothing exactly surprising about that.

I tried to write out the recipe in a very beginner-friendly way, so even if you're not super confident in the kitchen, it should be easy to follow! ❤️

Make yourself some video game soup, it's awesome.

INGREDIENTS:

(For about 6 servings)

A roughly egg-sized lump of lard (This can be subtituted with a different cooking fat if you'd like, but I recommend sticking with lard, as it adds a nice flavor, and it's kind of the staple fat for these peasant stews.)

Potatoes (I used just under two pounds)

Half of a medium leek

Small yellow onion (or half of a larger one)

2 cloves garlic

Roughly 1/2 to 1 cup white cooking wine (optional, substitute given in recipe)

Vegetable stock (or chicken- or beef stock, or water)

2-3 tbsp all purpose flour

Salt to taste

1/2 cup of sour cream/créme fraiche (optional)

Shredded cheese and/or croutons to serve (optional)

(Recipe with transcriptions and exact steps under the cut!)

(This is basically all there is in this. Honestly.)

STEPS:

"1. Put your lard in a pot- a chunky one, mind. When it stops being lard and starts being hot lard, add any good-smelling veggies (leeks, garlics, onions) that you've chopped all thin. Please salt this so it doesn't taste of nothing."

This first step is pretty self-explanatory. I sliced the white part of he leek thinly, cubed my onion, and minced my two large cloves of garlic. In the lard melted in as chunky a pot as I've got (make sure it's not non-stick!!!), I sauteed first the leek and the onion with a big pinch of salt, and once the onion was translucent, the leek soft, and they've released some liquid (around 3-5 minutes on medium-low heat), I added the garlic, and cooked it until fragrant.

"2. When it's soft and good-smelling, chuck in any flour you've got and stir the mixture so it don't burn (note for me - it's very important not to burn it, emphasize)"

"2.5. PLEASE DO NOT LET IT BURN THAT'D BE RUBBISH"

Now we make a roux by adding just enough flour to the mixture that it starts sticking together, and looks fairly dry, but no part of the flour remains powdery. (This was about 3 tbsp for me, but since this process goes quick, I did eyeball it).

It's important to keep stirring, as this can and does stick to the bottom of a pot, but it will determine the thickness of the final soup, deepen its flavor, and give it a nice, creamy consistency. I made mine fairly blonde (light tan in color, cooked just past long enough to dissipate any raw flour smell), but it can go to a fairly dark, caramel color before burning if you'd like the flavor to be a bit deeper. (This should only take a couple minutes.)

Please do be careful- it the roux burns, that flavor will be impossible to get rid of, so.... yeah, it would be rubbish.

"3. If you're fancy and have wine (or have a generously stocked temple wine cellar nearby) add a bit of it now and cook it off. When it's done, add some wedged potatoes and a lot more liquid (not wine this time or you'll have a headache in the morning)."

We now deglaze the bottom of the pot with the wine: after pouring it in, with the wooden spoon, we scrape up any stuck pieces of flour or aromatics that there might be on the bottom.

(Note: If you don't have wine, or would prefer not to use alcohol for any reason, a neat trick is to mix about 1 tbsp of white wine vinegar and 1 tsp of granulted sugar into a cup of water, and use this mixture as a substitute for 1 cup of white wine. In most recipes, the wine's main purpose is to add acidity as well as sweetness to the dish- this trick aims to replicate those qualities, and tastes very similar in the end result. I use it often in almost anything that calls for white wine if I happen to not have any at hand. But do make sure to taste beforehand, it's very easy to go too heavy on the vinegar! It should taste sour, but not so much that it's unpalatable.)

Then, I rinsed my cubed potatoes (though the text calls for wedges, those often don't cook quite evenly!) with water to get rid of the excess starch, added them to the pot, and then covered them in vegetable stock. You can use chicken- or beef stock (which would make the soup a bit richer, heavier) or water (if you want it lighter) as well- in this last case you might need to add more salt than you'd think. (Make sure to taste- it should be flavorful, but not salty! Bouillon cubes and premade stocks often have a very high salt content, so if using that, you might find you don't need to add any.)

(It sohuld look something like this.)

"4. Cook for half an hour or so til the potatoes are nice and tender, and mash some of 'em up in the liquid. If you've got any cow products - cheese, milk and the like - add them now for extra delicious results."

From when the mixture starts to boil, it should take about 25-35 minutes of simmering on low heat, covered, for the potatoes to soften- you can test doneness by sticking a fork in one of the pieces, or gently pushing one against the edge of the pot with your wooden spoon. It should give easily at light pressure with both methods.

I then put the sour cream/créme fraiche in a heat-safe container (a mug will do perfectly), and ladled a bit of the hot cooking liquid on top of it, mixing it thoroughly- both to thin it out, and bring the temperatures closer to each other, which should help avoid any curdling. Stirring constantly, I then add the cream mixture to the soup in a thin, slow stream. (Any mildly acidic, creamy dairy product should work here- though I do think yogurt might be a bit too sour, if using that I would probably omit the wine.)

Then, as everything is done cooking and the cream is distributed evenly with no curds, I turn the heat off for safety, and using a very traditional, very fantasy, not at all anachronistic immersion blender, I blitz the entire thing for roughly 30 seconds. You can of course blend it less for more chunks (or remove some cooked potato bits before blending to add them back later), or even longer for a smoother consistency, but I did like that about that much blending left only a few, small chunks of nicely cooked potato in the otherwise smooth and creamy result.

I served with shredded Port Salut cheese and croutons on top- but this is of course optional, and I think just some nice, crusty bread would also work wonderfully!

Go make yourself a video game soup!!!!!!! It's so easy and good!!!!!!!

[theosconfessions]

For the emoji OC ask game and character of your choice: 🍼, 🍄, 🍉, 🥭, 🍕, 🍯, 🧀, 🥑, 🌸, 🍆, 🥔

Dustin Stephens

🍼 [BABY BOTTLE] What's your OC's first memory?

Dustin: i think my moms face..just carrying me somewhere. [smirks] feeling all protected and shit. that wasnt the case as i got older. but i hope that my babies have a safe memory to look back on too as their first memory. im curious now ill have to ask them

🍄 [MUSHROOM] How likely is your OC to eat random berries/mushrooms they find?

Dustin: no no 0/10.. my husband though....would and has done..so i guess i dont need to [laughs]

🍉 [WATERMELON] What will your OC take to the grave?

Dustin: well something that theo doesnt know is that i did have someone i was seeing in the time that we were apart. i just never brought it up because it was just like some fling you know.. to try and get over him which absolutely failed because all i could do was think of him

🍍 [PINEAPPLE] Pineapple on pizza or not?

Dustin: im sorry but OKAY IM DOWN.

🍕 [PIZZA SLICE] How good is your OC at sharing? How do they share something if there's not enough supply?

Dustin: well with my husband im apparently so good at sharing and i never knew it [shakes head ] that being said if i have control over something im not sharing it. i think maybe thats why. it all stemmed from theo [laughs] jesus christ.

🍯 [HONEY] At what point does someone seem sickly sweet to your OC?

Dustin: i think when the compliments are just like over the top then im suspicious you know ?? like maybe im reading the question wrong and i obviously have some trust issues but im like okay thats suspicious.

🧀 [CHEESE WEDGE] How often does your OC get into situations that rely on pure luck/miracles happening?

Dustin: oh my god. ME when i was younger. nowadays not so much because i have two young twins that i have to be like on my shit for but when i was younger? FUCK ALL OF THE TIME.

🥑 [AVACADO] What will they never back down about, even if it makes them seem bad?

Dustin: i think over the years i had to defend myself and why exactly i stayed married to theo for so long. and we werent together the whole time i did leave him but the fact that we came back together and we had the twins looked OFF to a lot of my family. i get that. i do . theo didnt want a commitment and we stayed married long past we probably shouldve.. but i think one of things i will never back down about is that when he came back into our lives... he made himself WORTHY of having me . i didnt make it easy on him and i know it seems like im just being stepped on by him at leats to my friends it does but its not the case. and i kinda hope to explain that as time goes on.what happend. why were' back together and why we have the twins.

🌸 [CHERRY BLOSSOM] Does your OC believe in legends/myths?

Dustin: oh my god fuck yeah. you will not catch me in the appalachian mountains.byeeeee

🍆 [EGGPLANT] How are they used by others? How easily are they tricked into this?

Dustin : [smirks]

🥔 [POTATO] What do they have that others see as a flaw, but they don't care about?

Dustin: my trust. i think people think i give too many chances but i only do that if i think you deserve it you know.that being said i warn my kids now.. do not do as i do .

thank you for the questions love! i really loved doing this with dusty! after scarletts bc im going to expand on dustins sides of things some more. where the twins came from all that .

[vegan-yums]

Easy Vegan Poutine

Crispy Cajun Baked Fries

Cheesy Chili Baked Potato Fries

Crispy smashed potatoes

Easy sweet potato fries

Crispy Smashed Potatoes with Garlic Pesto

Mexican Style Loaded Baked Sweet Potato Fries with Vegan Aioli

Seasoned potato wedges

[sophaeros]

Miles is sick with a cold and Alex tries to play nurse but isn't great at it!

hi anon it took me great amounts of self control not to make this nsfw.

---

“I made you chicken soup,” Alex says.

“Oh no,” Miles groans. The sound is muffled by the painful gravel of his voice and the fever flush of his squinted eyes, a stray droplet of water trickling down his temple from the soaked hand towel lying lopsided on his forehead.

“Twat,” Alex says lightly, nudging pill bottles and  discarded tissues aside to set the oversized bowl onto the bedside table. The easy insult is ruined a little by the clear worry in his voice and the anxiety as he’s caught momentarily on the mess on the table, having been too busy running from one self-imposed task to another to clean. He gives himself a sharp shake of his head, stirring the cloudy soup with a spoon. “I used one of them canned soups, alright, followed the instructions and everything.”

Miles struggles his way into sitting up, Alex almost flinging soup onto the blankets in his haste to prop the pillows up. The towel flops onto his lap.

He peers doubtfully at the soup. “Is it supposed-” he breaks off into a wheezing cough. “Is it supposed to look like that?” he manages.

“Stop trying to talk while coughing,” Alex says, distressed, pressing a lukewarm cup of water into his hands.

Miles takes a long sip of the water, getting his breathing under control.

“Like what?” Alex asks, frowning down at the bowl. Chunks of greyish-white chicken float lazily through the stirred soup alongside mushy, irregular wedges of carrots and potatoes.

Miles waves a hand vaguely. “White.”

“It’s not white.”

“It is.”

“It’s not, the can said clear soup.”

“Well it’s not clear right now, innit?”

Alex takes a sip from the spoon and completely fails to control the spasm of disgust that flicks across his face.

“Babe,” Miles says, pained.

Alex sighs, dropping the spoon back into the bowl and crawling into the bed beside Miles, throwing his arm across Miles’ tummy out of habit before catching himself and tucking it against his own chest instead. “I wanted to make you feel better,” he says despondently.

“You do, love, you’re doing great,” Miles says gently, and promptly breaks off into another round of thick coughing, water sloshing over the rim of his glass.

“Liar,” Alex mutters, taking the glass from his hand.

“You’re gonna get sick staying here with me,” Miles says, but he buries his hands in Alex’s hair anyway, Alex listening to the tension bleed out of his body.

“Shut up,” Alex says. Miles, for once, obliges.

[karikarasuno]

sonder ch. viii

Pairing: Erwin Smith x Fem!Reader x Levi Ackerman

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Lack of Communication, Flirty Behavior, Masturbation, Eavesdropping, Descriptions of Sex, Too Many Feelings

Word Count: 5.6k

song(s) for the chapter: my all by mariah carey

chapter vii | chapter viii | chapter ix

Pandora’s box. That was what Moblit and Hange were currently trying to pry open from you with their bare hands. When you agreed to take a late lunch with Moblit, you hadn’t realized that your chicken caesar wrap would be accompanied with a side of interrogation. All lighthearted and well-intentioned, but you’ve been unsurprisingly irritable lately. Your newly realized feelings for Levi and Erwin left you emotionally drained and physically tense. Not that it was anyone else’s fault but your own. Moblit, though, was not helping the situation. And Hange’s erratic commentary was truly the cherry on top.

“I’m just saying you all seem awfully close,” Moblit said. He was teasing you and it was clear, but you couldn’t help but bristle at his words. 

“Friends fuck sometimes and that’s okay,” Hange added, thoughtful and serious, which made your jaw drop and your food bitter in your mouth. 

“Hange, please,” you said, pushing your half-eaten wrap to the side and taking a sip of your iced hibiscus tea instead. “We’re not,” your lips refused to fix around the word fuck out loud, “sleeping together.”

“So then what are you three doing together all the time?” Moblit asked innocently. The innocence was a mere facade, though, since you knew he was simply trying to fish for information. 

“Hanging out. Y’know, like we are, right now.” 

“Right,” he said unconvinced. “So you expect us all to believe you’re not dating?”

“Yes, exactly that. Because it’s not a belief if it’s a fact,” you bit out, your eyes narrowing at him when he smiled and shrugged.

“So you and Erwin are just hanging out as friends this Saturday?”

“How the hell do you even know about that?!” You whispered loudly, leaning towards him and snatching a potato wedge from his plate as payment for your distress. Levi had asked a favor of you yesterday when he had to take a last minute shift for Saturday since one of his regular patients needed an emergency session. Erwin’s father and his fiancee signed up for a dance lesson for their upcoming wedding and invited Erwin and Levi to join them. But given Levi’s schedule change, he asked you to join them in his place. You said yes (obviously) because you said yes to all of their requests, even if it was at your own emotional expense. 

“Levi told me,” Hange said casually. “He only feels a little bad over it because he hates dancing.”

“Of course he did and of course he does,” you responded grumpily as you slouched back in your seat and looked out the window you were seated beside. “This is just a favor anyway, nothing else.”

“Not a date,” Moblit nodded, as if he was agreeing with you when in actuality he was pressing you further. 

“Do you think my first date with someone would be a double date with his dad and his dad’s fiancee?”

“Sounds romantic enough to me,” he grinned, swiping the uneaten half of your wrap and taking a large bite in retaliation for the wedge you stole. You stared at him for a minute, observing the tiny moments of intimacy he always shared with Hange. The light grazing of his fingers on the back of their neck or the way they always made sure he had enough to drink in his cup. It seemed so easy. Fluid. Envy turned in your gut and it was only worsened by the knowledge of knowing your friends bore witness to your complicated relationship with Levi and Erwin, but knew you couldn’t do anything about it. 

“I don’t see what your point is,” you mumbled, glancing away from them again as Hange took a napkin and cleaned the corner of Moblit’s mouth that had a smear of caesar dressing left there aggressively. You fought a disgusted sneer at the softness between them to not come off as bitter. Which you definitely were.

“My point is, if it sounds like dating and it looks like dating,” he said it slowly as if you were beyond the capability of comprehension. “It’s dating.”

“Well maybe you should break it to your buddies that according to you they have a girlfriend,” you said with an annoyed eye roll. “Because as far as I know I am their neighbor who also happened to turn into a friend.”

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way,” Hange started, leaning forward with their elbows on the table. “But we’ve known Levi and Erwin for a long time and all we’re trying to say is it’s worth a conversation.”

“What conversation is there to be had?” You whined in exasperation. The memory of your almost kiss with Levi popped into your mind without your consent, the skin of your neck and chest warming up at the thought. That was a conversation that definitely needed to be had, but it had already been weeks since that night and neither of you made a move to bring it up. And with all your dinners together since then another incident like that hadn’t happened again. So, you forced it from your mind and refused to dwell on something that may have meant nothing at all. 

“The one regarding your feelings,” Moblit emphasized.

“What feelings?” You said stubbornly, arms crossing and an agitated huff released from your lips. You were starting to hate how easy it was for Moblit to read you. He had an uncanny ability of seeing straight through you. His intuition was nearly always right, especially when it came to the sticky complication of the emotions you swore you hid quite well. 

“You’re hopeless,” Moblit shook his head, placing your wrap back on your plate with a large chunk missing. Thankfully, they dropped the topic after that. But your mind couldn’t help but toss the concept around in your head for the rest of the day. 

They made it sound so simple. So normal. As if you entering an already established relationship with two men wasn’t odd or complicated. And it wasn’t as if you were any sort of advocate for traditional relationships. It was just something you never considered. A relationship with one man nearly broke you in two. And almost a year later, you were still reeling from the aftermath. It was hard enough grappling with the fact that you were falling in love with two people at the same time. You recognized long ago that you had the capacity for it. Loving people with your whole being was not a foreign concept to you. But extending that love, acting on that love, that you held for Levi and Erwin seemed crazy in a way that you couldn’t imagine. 

If one man had the capability to crack your soul in half so deeply the damage seemed irreparable, you could not fathom giving your heart away to two. Surely, the loss of their friendship alone would leave you raw and exposed. It would reverse all the work you had done this far. And you were afraid of the person you would become if you faced another loss like that. You felt jaded and cynical enough. If you handed your heart over to them, only for it to be returned in pieces seemed like a fruitless endeavor. Stupid, even. 

So you kept it exactly where it was. In the center of your chest with a stitched crack down the middle. 

“Erwin, we’re going to be late,” you called for him from his doorway. He was adamant on finding his black t-shirt, which you didn’t realize was even a remotely big deal. But, apparently it was and you had to be at the dance studio by 5pm. Currently, it was 4:36pm and it was a 20 minute drive. 

“Just a second! I found it,” he yelled back excitedly and you couldn’t hold back your loud sigh because you really did hate being late to things like this. It always made you anxious. Another minute passed as you began to tap your heeled foot against the concrete step outside his door because you were convinced that if you stepped inside he wouldn’t feel your obvious sense of urgency. 

“Erwin!” You shouted again, pulling your phone out of your purse to double check the time. 

“I’m coming,” he rounded the corner breathlessly, black shirt fitted around his torso with a zip up slung over his shoulder since it was still chilly outside this early in the new spring season. 

“You looked fine before,” you complained, grabbing his forearm and tugging him outside when he was close enough. “I don’t know why you needed to change.”

He locked the door behind himself, bounding down the steps to meet you at the gate. His hand found the small of your back then as he guided the two of you to his car, “I wanted to match.”

He grinned down at you with pleasant sincerity. As if matching with you was a necessity to this particular outing, and if he didn’t he would’ve ruined the entire thing. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” he smiled again and opened the door for you. “What’s the point in going to a couples dance class if we don’t match?”

Your jaw ticked at the word couple, your muscles spasming in your lower back when his hand disappeared and left you cold and tense. He was excited, but you could sense his nervous energy the moment you were in the car and driving towards your destination. This wouldn’t be his first time meeting his father’s fiancee, but it was still evident that he struggled with the idea of his dad getting remarried. And in typical Erwin fashion he played everything off as if it didn’t truly bother him. But knowing him for almost a year now, you could sense the tiny cracks in his facade. The fractures in his usually ebullient personality were starting to become more and more apparent. You wanted him to feel comfortable in your presence. And at present his nerves were crackling off of him like sparklers in the hands of a child on new year’s eve.

“Are you nervous?” You asked, eyes tracking a couple on the sidewalk beside the car as they walked their dog. 

“About?” His tone was hesitant, like he could sense you calling him out on his anxious energy. But instead of confronting him like Levi probably would have, you allowed his feign on indifference to steer your conversation. 

“Stepping on my toes,” you said with a teasing smile at him. He stopped at a red light, turning to grin at you–teeth white and smile blinding. 

“Oh sweetheart,” he replied in playful condescension, “I’m a terrific dancer.”

“We’ll have to see about that,” you responded snidely, expression unconvinced as you turned to look at him just as the light turned green. He released a loud laugh, his hand moving from the gear shift and hovering above your knee for a second. You were curious as to what he was about to do, your thigh tensing involuntarily before his hand landed on your knee and he squeezed. Your breath was held tightly in your chest, your cheeks growing warmer (a constant, uncontrollable reaction you were becoming increasingly more irritated by), and when his hand didn’t move for the rest of the drive every attempt you made at relaxing only made the discomfort fester more beneath your skin. 

The studio was small and on the second floor of a renovated townhome with a cute bookstore on the first floor. On one side of the room were floor to ceiling windows with a perfect view of the park that was just across the street. The lights were golden and dimmed to create an intimate and private atmosphere. Before you entered the studio, your short heels clicking satisfyingly against the glossed wooden floor panels, Erwin’s phone rang and he stepped back out, leaving you to greet the instructors alone. 

They were an older couple with thick accents that you could only attribute to an eastern European country, but you weren’t sure which one. 

“Hello, pretty,” the woman greeted you first, leaning over to press her cheek against yours. She was beaming at you, her eyes sparkling with excitement and you couldn’t stop the sheepish smile from stretching your lips in response. Her husband, you assumed, extended his hand to you in a warm handshake. 

You heard Erwin finally walk in behind you again, tugging on your purse to slip his phone inside before he said, “Looks like it’s just you and me. That was my dad and he said he can’t make it.”

“Is everything ok?” You said with a note of worry, but also the itchy feeling of anxiety stirred in your chest because this truly was a date now. Whether you wanted to admit that or not. 

“Yeah, he’s okay. I refused to ask what he was up to considering the fact that he was out of breath.” He shivered at the thought, and you laughed at the grossed out look on his face. 

“I don’t blame you,” you said, stepping aside so the instructors could introduce themselves. You had to suppress an eye roll when Erwin kissed the older woman on the cheek and she pulled away blushing. Someone had to be immune to his charms and it was unfortunate that it wasn’t you.  

“You two make such a beautiful couple,” the lady said warmly as she led Erwin further into the room and you saw his face light up in the mirror that was parallel to you. 

“Oh, we’re n-”you started, but was swiftly interrupted by Erwin’s appreciative, “thank you.”

Maybe it was easier to indulge rather than explain in a roundabout way to strangers that you weren’t actually together. And that he actually had a boyfriend. Both of which you spend an alarming amount of time with. 

“If it sounds like dating and it looks like dating. It’s dating.”

Moblit’s words clanged around your skull like a ping pong ball gone rogue. The sharp sounds rang in your ears and you were dumbly frozen in place until Erwin turned towards you with an outstretched hand and a teasing, “are we gonna dance or are you too worried about stepping on my toes?”

Embarrassingly enough, you did step on Erwin’s toes. Not because you lacked the coordination or balance or rhythm, but because you were stiff as a board. He was impossibly close to you. One hand on the small of your back applied enough pressure to keep your bodies pressed together while his other hand held onto yours securely. It was a simple waltz, but you couldn’t concentrate on anything besides the way his firm body felt pressed up against the softness of yours. 

Finally, when you were awarded a short break as the instructors went over to choose another song, you all but pushed Erwin off of you so that you could inhale a breath that wasn’t stained with the smell of his cologne. He was smiling as if he was thoroughly enjoying himself. And looking at you as if he was privy to some sort of damning information about you. 

“You need to loosen up,” he said while stepping back into your space, his hands swiftly finding your shoulders and massaging the very present tension there. You sighed, the knot that settled near your neck forever ago being worked out by his attentive and strong fingers. “You know Levi can massage this out for you,” he added when he felt the obvious discomfort in your shoulders. 

“I’m not gonna bother him with that,” you shrugged Erwin off as you said it, inhaling another steadying breath. 

“It wouldn’t be a bother,” he chuckled, “we have a massage table in the guest room for a reason.”

You had never stepped foot in their guest room so that came as a surprise. “I’ll think about it,” you said, waving off the suggestion because downright refusing would only trigger his more persistent side. 

“Ok! Back to positions,” the woman called out, hands clapping together giddily. You recognized the song immediately. The first sounds of My All by Mariah Carey delicately filled the room and your spine tensed once again. You stopped yourself from groaning because out of all the songs this one had all the romantic yearning you could possibly imagine. And with Erwin’s hands on you again and your chest firmly secured against his, you had to close your eyes to steady the racing of your heart that you were sure he could feel pounding against his rib cage. 

“Relax,” he leaned over and whispered in your ear, his lips dangerously close to touching the shell of your ear as he squeezed your hand in an attempt to be reassuring. “Stop concentrating and let me lead you.”

You allowed your forehead to fall to his chest and swallowed down the apprehension that wasn’t allowing you to just enjoy the moment. Regardless of what Moblit said or how you felt for Erwin or Levi, you shouldn’t ruin the fragments of familiarity and intimacy offered by them. Whether it was their strange way of extending friendship or something much more complicated, you took it. You let Erwin lead you in a waltz. You relaxed your shoulders and when you took one last breath and looked up at him he was staring down at you with affection. Maybe tonight you would pretend– just as he had when you stepped in the room– that you really were a couple. That tonight instead of going home to a bed alone, you would feel the safety of two bodies beside you. In an ideal world it would be that simple. 

But reality had a sick way of reminding you that nothing was ever that simple. But a girl could dream. 

“Oh my god, look!” You said as you made your way to the car. There was a flower beginning to bloom right beside a tree. And even though snow hadn’t fallen in weeks, the dreadful chill persisted. And while the sun set hours later, spring had yet to reveal herself to you. 

Erwin stopped suddenly beside you, his arm bumping into your back from the abruptness of it. You were pointing excitedly at the flower. It was a tiny little thing with white petals. Nothing worth noting, really, but the stranger of hope began to introduce herself to you again. It was odd how something so seemingly insignificant made your heart grow in your chest. 

“Oh would you look at that,” he said, following the line of your finger with his eyes, “Levi’s gonna be happy about this. He’s been grumbling about his plants for the last month.”

“It’s how he relieves his stress,” you teased, smiling at the memory of Levi fussing over his herbs that sat in the kitchen window and cursing winter for overstaying its welcome. 

You heard Erwin scoff out a laugh beside you while unlocking the car as you approached. “I, personally, could think of far better ways to relieve stress,” he said as he reached around your shoulder to open the passenger side door for you. There was far more suggestion in his tone than you appreciated. And with how close his voice was to your ear again, you couldn’t suppress the shiver that went straight down your spine and scattered frenetically across your skin. 

The initiation of temptation had to be purposeful on his end. The lingering touches and over-indulgent words couldn’t be a coincidence and you were beginning to wonder if this was some game or if all three of you were treading across a tightrope that got thinner and thinner the further you balanced across. Someone was bound to fall first. And you were afraid it just might be you since you were barely hanging on as it was. 

But the fear of breaking after such a long fall was what kept your core tight and your body forcing your feet to remain unsteady on the rope. You were starting to believe, though, that neither Erwin nor Levi had those same priorities. Especially when, as you were stepping into the vehicle, Erwin leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of your head. It was so unexpected that it gave you pause, your foot braced on the floor of the car as you whipped your head to face him. He was smirking at you expectantly, eagerly awaiting your reaction like he was trying to bait you into something. 

And in your disheveled state most of the words you knew seemed to escape you. Yet, the only thing you could manage was a petulant, “leave that man and his hobbies alone. Don’t be nasty.”

His grin grew wildly into something wicked. Your stomach flipped and desire swirled around dangerously low in your gut. He nudged you into a seated position, your head bumping against the head rest before he grabbed the seatbelt and clicked it into place for you. When his face was merely a few inches from yours, his breath casting puffs of air across your lips, you were taken back to the evening on your couch with Levi. And you wondered if he knew what almost happened that night. But as much as you wanted to look up into his eyes for some sort of confirmation, they refused to stray from his lips. 

“Fine,” you saw his lips shift around the word seductively, “but just know my idea of stress relief is much more fun.”

He pushed himself off the center console, ducking out of your door and then shutting it behind him. You were startled in a way you couldn’t really describe. Desire flowed through your veins like fear. Lust drove through your heart like anxiety. And it was the most conflicting set of emotions you have ever had the displeasure of feeling. Because now he wasn’t even being secretive about it. 

And for the first time since befriending the neighborly couple, you were beginning to feel like you may be in over your head. 

“Ok,” you started as you strode into Moblit’s office at 8:06 am, exactly two minutes after you saw him enter the office. He barely had his things set down before you shut his door and closed the blind to the small window he had that overlooked the cubicles. 

“What’s with the secrecy?” He said, a bit concerned, but mostly amused. He was still shrugging off his coat when you started to pace. Which you knew wasn’t the best look, but after your evening with Erwin and then stealthily avoiding them for the rest of the weekend to protect your sanity after what you overheard after he dropped you off at your door. You knew you weren’t crazy regardless of how you absolutely, positively felt crazy. 

Erwin wouldn’t intentionally fuck his boyfriend loud enough for you to hear through the wall that separated your living room from their bedroom. He couldn’t possibly know you were even laying on your couch that night because you were too lazy to get up and drag your ass to bed because strangely enough the arches of your feet were sore from dancing in heels for an hour and a half. It had to be another coincidence. But you knew the mood Erwin was already in when you left the studio. He had reckless energy coursing through him the entire drive home. Even when you stopped to grab takeout on the way home, he still possessed that crackly, staticky spirit that had you shifting in your seat expectantly. 

So, you could confidently assume that he was horny. Especially with the way he carried himself with a sense of emboldened carelessness. He kissed you again on your doorstep, this time on your cheek and narrowly missing your lips so much so he might as well have kissed them. So, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when you were startled awake from a sleep you hadn’t realized you fell under to a thud. It was muffled and distant sounding. You knew it couldn’t have come from inside your apartment so you decided to ignore it and chalk it up to the sounds of the city. But then, as sleep threatened to pull you under again, you heard a groan and a creak. Realization flooded over you like a bucket of cold water. Goosebumps rose on your skin in recognition of what was occurring on the other side of the wall and a fierce blush blossomed on your cheeks. Your whole body rising in temperature and that strange feeling returned to your gut. 

The heels of your palms pressed into your eyes and you knew you should probably gather yourself and head to your bed. But when you heard another moan, this one longer and needier than the last, you struggled to come up with a good enough argument to actually get up. One that based itself on something other than this probably being morally wrong. Eavesdropping on your friends while they were clearly getting hot and heavy was not an appropriate way to end your evening, but the weight of your touch deprivation was burying you into the cushions beneath you. You couldn’t even remember the last time you touched yourself. With the chronic stress and anxiety that exhausted your body it was difficult to conjure up the energy to even get yourself off. 

But this, this fervent desire that had rooted itself in your bones hours ago due to Erwin’s blatant teasing, was nearly suffocating you. Maybe you shouldn’t have allowed your hand to trail down your abdomen, smoothing over your sleepshirt and slipping hesitantly between your thighs. And you shouldn’t have matched the pace of your fingertips rubbing greedy circles against your clit with the way their headboard thumped against the wall. You muffled your own moans with the back of your free hand, merely mimicking what you knew to be Levi’s voice groaning alongside what you could only assume was Erwin fucking him. 

Your imagination, as vivid as it was, was running away from you. The idea of Erwin and Levi together in any position you could pull from your own memory was sending a hurried flush over your skin. Lips on heated skin, hands kneading at reddened flesh, it was too much. You already knew how pretty Levi looked with rose-tinted cheeks and wine-stained lips, and you could nearly feel Erwin’s strong body cradling yours. Being held by him without the layers of thin clothing separating your sweat-dampened skin. It was surprising how close you were to finishing with only a few sticky strokes to your clit. The pent up sexual frustration evidently brought to its boiling point. 

All you could hear, all that was replaying in your mind as you came over your own fingers was Levi whining out Erwin’s name in desperation. The sound of his release was obvious when Erwin could only respond with a “yes, Levi” and the pace of the headboard hitting the wall quickened for a few seconds before everything went silent. 

You lied there in astonishment and shame. Your fingers wet with your own release and your body slightly sweaty from unexpected exertion. How were you going to face them again after that? When all you would be able to hear when they spoke to you was the gruffness of their moans and the noises they made as they came?

It would surely haunt your every conversation and interaction from now until forever. 

“Are you gonna talk or would you prefer to burn a hole into the rug with your incessant pacing?”

Moblit’s voice startled you straight out of your memory. Your orientation returned to you once you remembered you were in Moblit’s office on the verge of a nervous breakdown instead of post-orgasm and spiraling out on your own couch after listening to your best friends have sex. When you met Moblit’s gaze, his amusement diminished in favor of true concern. Maybe you also looked just as crazy as you felt. 

“I’m in big trouble,” you said, arms crossing and eyes averting to look out onto his view of the lake that was miles away but still visible through the spaces between the high rises. 

“Legal? Do you owe someone money?” He said, hands leaning onto his desk and it should’ve sounded like a joke but he was being utterly serious. 

“I don’t want to know why that was where your mind immediately went. Quite frankly, it scares me,” you said, expression a mixture of confusion and astoundment. “But no, I don’t owe anyone money. I just maybe haven’t been completely forthcoming about my current situation with Levi and Erwin.”

“You totally fucked, didn’t you?” He smirked at you like he knew it all along. Like you couldn’t possibly keep anything from him without him finding out in some way. Which should’ve agitated you more than it did, but you were too wrapped up in your mess to scold him over it.

“No!” You said louder than you intended, so you lowered your voice when you added, “we didn’t fuck. At this point, I think that would be the simpler situation.”

“I have a feeling you’re being a little dramatic,” he said softly, again acting as if having a threesome with your two closest friends who were in a years long relationship didn’t have the potential to ruin things to an atomic degree. 

“Ugh,” you sighed, deciding to sit down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “A couple of weeks ago Levi and I almost kissed, and up until my date on Saturday with Erwin I was under the impression that he didn’t know about that given the fact that Levi and I have pretended it never happened. We were also high so I kinda thought he didn’t remember it.”

“So it was a date,” Moblit grinned, leaning back comfortably in his office chair as he looked directly at you. 

“Can you believe that his dad canceled on us at the last minute?” You complained, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “So, yes it very much felt like a fucking date. And it really messed with my head, especially because Erwin was being so…”

You allowed the sentence to hang there, not sure how to really describe Erwin’s behavior towards you that night. He was treating you like it was the early stages of a relationship. The unmistakable air of a date, the touching, the closeness. It was all so real and unplatonic-like. You groaned into your hands while your body fell deeper into the seat. 

“What do I do?” You emphasized whinily, peering at Moblit’s smug face between the cracks in your fingers. 

“Did Erwin make a move on you?” He asked simply, and you scrunched your face up in thought because the answer in your mind was yes, but the lines were blurry and you couldn’t see them clearly enough to come up with a straight answer. 

“I mean, how would you define ‘making a move’?” You thought back to the kisses he left on your temple and cheek, which he has done before. And the way his hands never strayed far from your body, whether it was your waist or the small of your back or even when he rested it on your knee on the drive there. You thought of his reassuring words and how he put your seatbelt on for you once you left the dance lesson. Those all felt like moves, but they also all felt like Erwin. 

And Erwin was handsy and clingy. 

“You know exactly how I would define it,” he replied dumbly and you fought the eye roll that always followed you whenever you spoke with Moblit. You loved him, but weren’t always too fond of him calling you out on your bullshit. 

“Fine, then yes, he was very,” you made weird grabby hands at Moblit, who frowned and tilted his head but seemed to understand what you were trying to convey. 

“Did he kiss you?”

“Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?”

“He kissed me like right here,” you pointed to the corner of your mouth and refused to make eye contact with him. You felt so juvenile and ridiculous. This was so much harder than having a teenage crush. So much worse too. 

And it was made even worse when you heard Moblit stifle a laugh. When you glared at him, he couldn’t suppress the cackle where it was currently lodged in his throat and slipped out in one absurd sound. 

“You’re so annoying,” you grumbled as you rose to your feet, fully intent on trudging back to your office and hiding out there for the rest of the day. 

“Wait,” he called after you, and you stubbornly turned around to face him again. “I’m gonna suggest something a little crazy… talk to them.”

“Why can’t you just let me be difficult?” You had to stop yourself from stomping one of your feet on the ground petulantly. 

“Because this isn’t as difficult as you’re making it, I promise.”

You heard the earnestness in his voice. He truly believed that this thing between you, Levi, and Erwin would work out. And you weren’t sure if he was delusional or if you were oblivious. But the ache in your chest only ever subsided when you were with them. The feelings you harbored could be one-sided but as each day ended and another began that didn’t seem like the case. Fear gripped you, though, tightly around the neck, squeezing your vocal cords together and refusing you to utter a word about your love for them. Your very real, awful, tragic, beautiful love for them. 

“What if I ruin it again?” You said barely above a whisper. You wanted to shrink into yourself. Nothing but raw insecurity ripped through you. “I can’t do that to myself again.”

[bhaalbaaby]

Get to Know: Penelope!

doing another OC Questionnaire! Questions by the lovely @spacebarbarianweird

Does your Tav have any scars or tattoos? What are their origins? Penelope at the beginning of the game doesn't have scars. After the fight with Nere, she does get a slash on her cheek from when Astarion was under his control and killed her. She does have tattoos that are just not in the game. She usually has spiderwebs on her ass and heart-shaped nipples. (nsfw in the links lmao)

What does your Tav believe in? Do they have some weird superstitions? She believes in Selûne but is not devout. She doesn't have any superstitions really.

How does Tav want to die? Rich and old lol

What is your Tav's class and why? Did Tav choose it themselves? She is a bard because og!Penelope was in a band and played the bass, and guitar, and sang. BG3!Penelope came across being a bard because her father gifted her a spider lute and she took classes in Elturel. When she moved to Baldur's Gate, she picked up the flute and harp.

What are your Tav's prejudices about races, cultures, genders, and places? She mostly thinks about them in terms of money. If they're from places like Waterdeep, Calisham, or Amn, she knows they'll likely have more money on them and tries to befriend or seduce them. Wizards are a class she watches out for since they're mostly easy to please as long as she strokes their egos. She is interested in Drow since her father was one. Since she's a Tiefling, they do not give her the time of day and don't believe she's half-Drow. She doesn't take it to heart anymore and will only tell Drow she can trust.

Does Tav want to have children? Sometimes she gives this thought, but then she's like no! She doesn't have the time to dedicate to them. She does help Halsin in the end monetarily with the other children, but won't volunteer to actually help.

Does your Tav have a family? Siblings? Living relatives? Her mother passed away on the way to Baldur's Gate. She thinks her father is still alive, but back in Menzoberranzan. She had an older brother and younger sister but lost contact when she left Elturel. She hopes they're alive, but doesn't think about them much so she doesn't get sad.

What can make your Tav cry? Thinking about her family and how alone she is. Also, she is a very woe-is-me person so being in the whole situation with the tadpole is putting her on edge.

What are your Tav's political opinions? She stays out of politics for the most part since all walks come into Sharess's Caress. She doesn't like obviously evil people in power but is wary of those for good.

What language does Tav speak? Why? She speaks Infernal/Abyssal and Common. She knows a little bit of Drowic, but not really. Her mom taught her Infernal. Her father tried to swear off Lolth so he didn't speak much Drowic in front of her.

What is Tav's favorite genre of stories? She loves romance and erotica.

Heavy or light sleeper? Light sleeper in the wilderness. Heavy sleeper in a bed.

What is Tav afraid of? She is scared of giant spiders and dying alone

Is your Tav neurodivergent? She has anxiety, depression, and PTSD. She can handle it most of the time unless it gets triggered by her phobia or if a man yells/forces her to do anything.

What stupid things does Tav believe in? She believes in wishing on stars. When she sees a falling star, she immediately stops talking to whisper her wish. She also believes in wishing on eyelashes too.

What is your Tav's comfort food? She loves potato wedges.

How does Tav prefer to sleep? She likes sharing her bed with someone and being in an actual bed. She's been in the city too long and prefers it that way.

What coping mechanisms does Tav have? She doesn't! She just forces herself to think about something else and not deal with things if they're too stressful because that's easier than actually dealing with them.

[rillils]

notes: I’ve been going through a bit of a rough time lately, writer’s block being just one of the issues, so I thought I’d put everything on hold for a little while, grab a prompt from a prompt generator and see what happened. Today’s prompt was: cooking for one another or cooking together. Here goes nothing :3 wordcount: 1137 additional tags: modern setting – no powers AU, pre-serum Steve, fluff fluff fluff, domesticity, they haven’t tied the knot yet but they’ve been practically married since they were 15 pass it on. You can also find this ficlet on AO3!

🍂🍁🍂

November has the crisp sound of crushed leaves, and the color of Bucky’s cheeks stung pink by the wind.

His smile is a soft thing when he reaches his arm out to wrap around Steve’s shoulders, herding him close into his side. “Wanna head back?”

Steve shrugs, “Yeah, if you want,” but his head has already found its natural place in the Steve-shaped slot under Bucky’s chin, where the wool lining of Bucky’s coat collar will tickle his cheek all the way home.

“I’m not cold, though,” Steve wishes to inform him, while Bucky guides them down the street at an easy promenade pace.

“’Course not,” Bucky agrees, punctuating the sentiment with a kiss to the top of Steve’s ruffled head. “Should have worn a hat there, Stevie. Wanna borrow mine? You know I don’t mind.”

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“’Kay.” A beat of silence. Two. Three. “Hey, you’ve got your gloves on, right?”

“Sure,” Steve replies, slipping his very much bare hand into the warmth of Bucky’s coat pocket.

“Uh-huh,” Bucky hums against Steve’s temple, absolutely and irrevocably one-hundred-percent fooled. “You know you’ll end up getting frostbite again, don’t ya.”

His voice brushes warmly against Steve’s cold skin, and Steve soaks it up like it’s the last summer sun, ducking his head low so Bucky won’t see him grin. “Yes, Ma.”

If Bucky then chooses crime and deliberately tickles him just under his ribs, over the spot he’s known since 2nd grade will make Steve produce the most embarrassingly high-pitched squeals, then Steve may have, perhaps, had it coming just a little bit.

He catches their reflection in the shop windows as they pass by; there’s Bucky’s grinning profile right there, his bangs mussed by the cold breeze, stirring fuzzily under his beanie; Steve’s own laughing face, the red tip of his nose, and their legs stepping together in perfect sync, one-two, one-two, fluid and easy, like they have a million times before. It fills him with a soft kind of awe, the way they move as one. If life was a poem, Steve is sure their bodies would rhyme.

Bucky’s hand curls snugly around his shoulder, bringing them just that little bit closer. “Let’s make something nice and warm for dinner.”

“Can it have potatoes?”

He doesn’t need to see Bucky’s smile; he can hear it in his voice, soft and amused, half-hidden in the fluff of Steve’s hair.

“Deal.”

*

Steve leans back against the kitchen island, cuddling a steaming cup of tea to his chest, watching the room – watching Bucky – come to life one ingredient at a time.

Bucky throws him a knowing glance, knife in his right hand, the sleeves of his sweater already pulled back to the elbows. “Are you gonna help at all?”

Steve smiles behind the rim of his cup. “Nope.”

“Called it.”

Dinner is a soft, long-rehearsed symphony, and Steve stands close by and listens gratefully, warmth curling like tender fingers in his chest.

The gentle rhythm of Bucky’s knife on the cutting board, chopping carrots into wedges and dicing potatoes into neat little cubes. The silken glide through pork, cut into bite-sized pieces. The languorous sizzle of onion tossed for a sweet little waltz in a drizzle of oil and a scoop of butter, and the splash of wine from the first and only bottle they’ve bought since moving in, and forgot in the back of a cabinet for months. The lazy simmer of the stew muttering quietly on the stove, like the old ladies in the front rows at Mass, with too many tales to tell and not enough time in between Hail Mary’s to spill them all.

Steve gathers every drop of it, of home wrapping her familiar embrace around him, and leans into the sound with his eyes closed, savoring it, Mm.

“You getting sleepy?”

Bucky’s looking at him curiously; Steve allows himself the pleasure of looking back, taking the time to drink him in. The steam from the pot has caused Bucky’s short hair to curl against his brow, and his eyes are smiling even when his mouth is not, and the hoop of Steve’s apron, the one that says Stick a fork in me, I’m done, sits a little too high around his neck. He’s never looked as beautiful, as heartbreakingly sweet as this. The very same thought crosses Steve’s mind spontaneously at least once every day, and every day it feels just as true as the one before.

“No,” he says, closing his eyes again, “I just like watching you.”

He can hear Bucky’s amused snort loud and clear over the bubble-de-bubble of their stew. “Anybody ever tell you you’re a weirdo, honey?”

Steve hums, contentment spreading from the center of his belly to the length of his limbs, reaching down to his fingers and toes.

“All the time, Buck.”

*

Their ankles twine like young roots under the table.

“Here, tell me how it is.”

Bucky feeds him the first spoonful from his own plate, and Steve indulges him, diligently opening up for the spoon.

Flavor unfolds like a many-layered story on his tongue: the sweet tang of rosemary, a whisper of black pepper, the tender bite of pork and the enticing juice of carrot – each voice speaks to him, describing a richness that cannot come from herbs and spices alone.

It’s the measure of everyday devotion; the care that was poured in every gesture, the peeling and the cutting, the stirring and the dishing. The simple pleasure of making something from scratch and saying, without words, For you.

Steve feels the grin bubble up from the well of his chest. The potato’s so soft, it melts like spun sugar on his tongue.

“Well?”

Bucky’s watching him closely; a small, near-shy smile curling his lips.

There’s something in his eyes, in the way they soften like this, in the gleam always kindled within, that Steve has failed to put a name to since he first saw it there.

Perhaps – he thinks, not for the first time – perhaps it needs no name, only a heart to feel it. And he does feel it, every time Bucky looks at him like this. Deep, deep-set here in his heart, in his stomach; in the golden crucible where tenderness is made.

“Come on, don’t leave me hanging,” Bucky prods. “Does it taste okay?”

It tastes like so many murmurs of ‘I love you’, is what Steve truly wants to say; but that’s a little secret he’ll keep to himself for now.

He snuggles his sock-clad feet between Bucky’s calves, like he often does on cold nights, when Bucky pulls him back against his chest, and their legs lock together like puzzle pieces under the duvet.

“It’s perfect,” Steve says.

Bucky’s eyes crinkle softly with his smile. Like poetry, Steve tells himself, as he lifts his own spoon.

[quilbug]

I made potato wedges for lunch and they are delicious and easy to make so I shall share✨

~~~

🥔Ingredients - Potatoes ( I used 2 ) - Oil - Salt, Pepper, spices, vinegar? Sauces??

🥄Equipment - Microwave - Baking tray - Oven (if you have; Those little bags you get in the fruits and veggies isle, a kitchen brush to brush oil on, and baking sheets) ~~~ 🍳Method - Preheat oven to like 175℃ / 347℉

- Wash potatoes and stick em with a fork a little so steam can escape.

- Stick em whole in the microwave on high for like 4 minutes. (in the UNTIED veggie isle bag if you have, it traps some steam and helps it soften quicker). * be careful when you open the microwave, I burned my hand on the steam TvT

- when a fork sinks easily into the potatoes, they're ready to go onto the baking tray. You can put a baking sheet on the tray so that washing up is easier later.

- Cut them in half and then cut those halves in half again. Little wedges <3

- Use a little kitchen brush or whatever method to get a light coat of oil on the potats, then spice em up!! (if it turns out you didn't spice it enough, is all good you can add more later :> )

- Stick em in the oven!! for 20ish minutes!! Until they nice and crispy!! when that's done, HUZZAH YOU DID IT DEVOUR THEM!! Behold my wedges under the cut

These mah wedges, i should have made more lol I used premixed potato and braai spices, but if you dont have those I think paprika can give that extra kick, maybe italian herbs too :O If you're not into the extra flavours, salt and pepper works good too :>

[steelycunt]

being a gansey girl is not easy. sometimes you have to run around fighting for your life AND his after something heinous that little sweet potato wedge has said for the third time this week

[ricoydelicioso]

Spicy crispy potatoes wedges

This is how I make homemade spicy super crispy potato wedges just the way my kids like.. It’s super easy & they love it in their lunch box, evening snack or as a side for their dinner.

Try it out…

Don’t forget to LIKE, SAVE, SHARE

You’ll need:

500g of potatoes 1 tbsp of salt (to boil) Water ( to boil the potatoes)

For the batter mix 1 cup Plain flour 1/3 cup Corn flour 1 tsp Salt 1 tsp Garlic powder 1 tsp Onion powder 1 tsp Chilli powder 1 tsp Paprika 1 tsp Cumin powder 1 tbsp Oregano 1/3 cup Sriracha sauce 1 cup Water (might need 2 or 3 tbsp extra to get the semi thick consistency as shown) Oil to deep fry the battered wedges