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drvscarlett · 2 months

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Let Him Cook Pt 6

Charles Leclerc x Masterchef! Reader

Let Him Cook Series 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

A/N: Thank you for that anon who gave me a message for the next part of the series. This one is dedicated for you!

taglist: @bookstore-of-dreams@barcelonaloverf1life@ririyulife@minseok-smaus@mehrmonga@sltwins@charlesgirl16@six-call@spideybv28@casperlikej@weekendlusting@janeholt3 @evie-119@leilanixx @randomgirlnumber-13@itsjustkhaos

Cookies and Grand Prix

Y/NCooks just posted a photo.

Y/NCooks Now that my masterchef duties are done. Its my first time going to a grand prix as Charles' girlfriend. I hope you like cookies

User1 OMG IM GOING TOMORROW!!! OMYGODDDDD

Y/NCooks I'll give you a cookie when I see you! User1 Ohmygod, this is the best. You are the best!

User3 I'm envious of everyone going to Monza this year, Y/N is giving out cookies

User4 The details are everything on those cookies

CarlosSainz55 Im technically a former ferrari driver so can I claim a cookie?

LoganSargeant can i have one too? Y/NCooks this is for everyone!! Make sure to drop by Carlos and Logan! Maxverstappen1 Expect me around! User5 Everybody is a ferrari fan!

"Okay mon amour, so there will be a big crowd when we arrive" Charles briefed you as you get closer to the venue "Make sure to stick close to me."

"Yes honey, I know. Hold your hand and don't let go"

Charles has been extremely stressed and he thinks it might not be a good idea to bring you to Monza for your first GP as a couple. However, you couldn't pass up the opportunity. You have seen how the people cheered for Charles when he won in Monza, the crowd was electrifying. You wonder what will happen if it happens again this weekend.

Besides, you have a basket full of cookies that you prepared to give for those fans of Charles that you will meet.

You were immediately greeted by a huge crowd calling out Charles name. It was no wonder that there was several security guards waiting at Charles' designated parking lot.

It was normal for Charles to stop to take photos and to sign some merch. What surprised the duo was that the fans were asking for Y/N and her cookies.

"We really waited for you guys so we can get some cookies" one of the avid Tifosi said

"I really hope the cookies give ferrari luck"you agreed.

There was a buzz in the paddock as you gave away several more cookies to the different fans you encountered. You managed to give Carlos and Logan since they were also waiting at the parking lot. You were so carried away talking to everyone that you didn't realize that you already ran out of cookies.

"Oh no, I didn't save cookies for your other friends" you concluded upon reaching the garage.

"That's okay mon amour, I'm sure they would understand that there is no more cookies" Charles assured.

And like a comical entrance, a man in full Red Bull gear enters the sea of red uniforms.

"What do you mean no more cookies?" Max asked "I did not just go through all the security details to not have cookies"

"Oops."

Grill the grid: eggs

It was a fairly easy challenge, the media team thought. They believe that there will be no harm to let the drivers cook since its just a simple hard-boiled egg.

There was a stove, a pot, 2 bottles of water, eggs, vinegar, salt, and pepper on the table. They also thought that it will be funny to put unnecessary spices and ingredients on the table so there is grated cheese, spring onions, cinnamon, carrots, and etc..

The drivers entered the room looking confused at the different set up of the Grill the Grid.

"We're giving people what they want, today were actually allowing the drivers to show off their cooking skills with this special episodes of grill the grid"

Charles is obviously happy. He was already raving about how there are different versions of eggs that he tried at home because of Y/N.

"I have already tried doing poached egg, soft-boiled eggs, french omelette, american ones" Charles enumerated "I think I'm the best at making scrambled eggs"

"Its just scrambled"

"There is a technique there" and Charles continued to ramble on the different techniques that he has used to achieve the perfect scrambled eggs.

On the other hand, Oscar is attempting to make a hard boiled egg. He admits to the camera that he did not have any experience of it but he definitely knows how it taste (obviously).

"So Oscar what is your game plan here?"

"Well, I'm planning to boil the water and I think I should add some vinegar and then maybe sugar and salt so the egg will be flavored" Oscar stopped as he heard the giggling on set "Wait am I wrong?"

"No, no, just continue"

"Okay so I think I'm gonna let the eggs cook once the water is rolling then I'm gonna wait for 15-18 minutes because I don't wanna serve raw eggs" Oscar continued.

The staffs are a bit shocked by the length of time. It was beyond overcooked but they wouldn't say anything to the Australian driver.

It cuts to Max who seems to be pretty confident with his skill. Its a simple egg, how hard can it be?

"Of course, we have to get the water boiling and then I'm going to put it in for 5 minutes and then get the egg out" Max explained.

If Oscar has a long waiting time, Max was immediately dropping the egg even before the water is boiling because Max believes that the water is hot to the touch.

"What happened, why is the egg still runny?" Max wondered

He cut off the egg and there was still slimy white and the yolks were uncooked. There was a frown on his face as he looked back at his pot, he thinks he is being sabotaged.

"I'm gonna do it again"

Yuki was excited to do the cooking challenge. He insisted that he will not just make a hard boiled egg but he will also showcase a soft-boiled egg. The staffs were ecstatic to see him running around to get iced water for his eggs.

"I make these weekly so I'm really confident that it will turn out well"Yuki has a permanent grin as he fishes out his soft-boiled egg.

"If you want a soft-boiled egg, boiling water with the bubbles and then 8 minutes on the clock. Then you put it in an ice bath and then peel it" Yuki narrates.

He opens his soft boiled egg and it showcases a jammy yolk and soft whites, the perfect kind of soft-boiled eggs. The studio applauds at Yuki's efforts.

Y/NCooks just posted a photo

Y/NCooks since the episode is out, here is the list of photos sent to me by the crew. Guess which is which.

User2 OHMYGOD, THIS IS SO FUNNY!!!

User3 LOOK AT OSCAR'S REALLY OVERCOOKED EGGS

User6 i was seriously laughing when he said 18 to 20 minutes User7 For real, man thinks he is tenderizing meat

maxverstappen1 i demand a part 2

Charles_Leclerc "its so easy" maxverstappen1 shut up. i have been cooking now kellypiquet p is getting tired of eggs every morning user9 max is really serious to train himself on how to make eggs

User14 I just know that yuki is the one with the best looking egg, so smooth!!!

Y/Ncooks yes!!! User17 charles is the one with the unsmooth peeling Y/NCooks the man can't have it all, i guess

LandoNorris thank God they didn't send you my photo

Y/NCooks lando, i dont think anyone grabbed a photo since the fire department was called CarlosSainz55 you did what???? Charles_Leclerc and they call me as someone who can't cook when we have Lando here being a fire hazard LandoNorris Y/N THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE OUR SECRET User22 atleast team papaya are both needing lessons.

The cookie prank.

Max was still upset that he didn't get to have cookies in Monza. He was really looking forward to it so he wasn't the least suspicious when he allowed Charles inside his home since he brought him cookies.

It was wrong of Max to put down his defenses.

"I'm gonna get some water, you want anything?" Max asked

"No, I'm just gonna get comfortable here with your cats"

Charles stood in front of the cat litter box and he pulled the ziplock bag that he has. Inside the ziplock bag was another set of cookies that looks like cat poops. He laughed quietly as he sets up the scene.

"Max, do you know about that coffee made from poop?" he asked the Dutchman

"Of course, Kopi Luwak" Max replied "Why did you ask?"

Max walked out of the kitchen and he can see clearly how Charles picked up a poop from the litter box. He almost dropped the water that he is holding upon seeing that.

"What if we use cat poop instead" Charles wondered

"CHARLES WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

The pure mortification in Max's face when Charles started eating the poop. It seems like his friend lost his mind after driving in Ferrari for all these years.

"You should try some"

"Y/N, CHARLES IS GOING CRAZY" Max immediately placed you on a call "I THINK HE NEEDS THERAPY"

"Woah slow down Max" you were out on a grocery run and now Max is screaming at your ear

"Hello mon amour"Charles greeted on the other line.

"HE LOST HIS MIND, HE STARTED EATING MY CAT'S POOPS"

You made a mental face palm as you remembered how Charles insisted that you make very realistic cookies that looks like poop. Charles never opened it to you that he will be using it to prank Max. You started laughing at the shock in Max's face.

"Max, those are cookies" you defended

"THEY ARE CAT POOPS, CHARLES LECLERC IS EATING CAT POOPS"

Oh what would you do with these boys.

#let him cook #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fluff #f1 imagine

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findafight · 1 year

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Wait. Wait. Kinda part 2 to this post. For the angst of it all. Cw: implied and assumed homophobia

Because sure, after that dinner Joyce relents in not being, y'know, openly confused or frustrated with Steve being around. El obviously adores him and Jim is always glad when he comes around. Joyce can put up with Steve for them. But she's a stubborn woman, and somewhere in her mind, Steve is a Bad Egg. So she's still not 100% on board.

All this rears its head one night after a lot of their world saving group has had a movie night and ended up in a puddle on the floor. Steve is squished between Robin and Eddie, snuggled up all cozy. Joyce sees this when she quietly pads out of her bedroom to just. Check on the kids.

Eddie and Steve are sat up, Robin's face pressed against his hip. They're whispering something, heads leaned close. And they lean in further, silhouetted by the moonlight filtering in, and kiss. It's pretty chaste, though not a peck.

Joyce's blood boils. Steve has a girlfriend, he should not be going around kissing his friends like that, stringing them all along. She feels strangely vindicated, that her assumptions about Steve were right, that he wasn't actually a good guy or had changed at all. She almost yells at him then and there, but holds off. No need to wake everyone up. She can lecture him in the morning.

Once everyone is fed and lounging in the late morning, she pulls Steve out onto the porch.

"I saw you kiss Eddie last night" she says, without preamble. "And I cannot believe you would think behaviour like that is acceptable in my house."

Steve blinks, clenches his jaw. "Jo--Mrs Byers. I--"

"I don't want any of your excuses! It's despicable what you're doing, and I won't have it. For whatever reason, those kids look up to you. What kind of example are you setting for them? For El?" Steve's eyes widen, and if Joyce hadn't been so caught up with her anger she probably would have seen that instead of being ashamed or embarrassed, Steve is scared. "She looks up to you so much, though I can't imagine why. You need to clean yourself up, Steve. For real this time. You can't go around doing whatever you want. It's disgusting and disrespectful. Did you even consider the people you'd hurt? How doing shit like that would affect the lives of people who care about you? They deserve better than that." She shakes her head. Arms crossed. Steve is tense in front of her, but he doesn't say anything. To her, that's as good as confession. "Everyone talks about how you've worked hard to improve yourself, become a better person. But after last night? I just don't believe it. No one who's really changed, really a good person, would do what you did." She sighs. "You should probably leave now."

Steve nods stiffly. "Right. I'll. Uh, I leave. Can you...please, don't tell anyone, ma'am. I'll Grab my bag and I'll get outta your hair, but don't tell. I'm so sorry. Please." She purses her lips. His girlfriend deserves to know, but Joyce has no clue who that is (it might be the Robin girl attached to his hip, but she has no way of knowing). She nods once. Steve's shoulders slump.

Stepping back into the house, Steve quickly and jerkily snags his backpack from the corner it was shoved into before leaning over to whisper something in Robin's ear. The girl nods, looking worried.

He doesn't look at Eddie.

For a while, her house is Steve-free. Joyce breathes easy, hoping their talk was a wake-up call for steve. He is painfully polite when they bump into each other, Robin usually by his side with a strained customer service smile. Small talk is non-existent.

But then Will starts getting quieter. Maybe avoiding her. Certainly does his best to be small and doesn't look in her eyes. She has no idea what's going on, and she's worried.

What if the Upside Down came back? What if there's something wrong with her boy? What if everything they've fought for and sacrificed didn't mean anything and it's never actually over?

She tries to talk to him, but he shrugs her off, says he's fine and not to worry about it. Assures her it is definitely not the Upside Down.

Finally, after two weeks of Will looking absolutely miserable when he talks to her, she gets Jonathan to try. Tension around the house is high, Steve is barely around and always skitters away when he sees her, and in combination with will, it's out everyone on edge.

She doesn't mean to eavesdrop. But she doesn't not mean to either. It's just that they're on the porch, and she was in the kitchen and heard something, and when she went to see, she heard them talking.

"it's not--i want to tell you but it's not my secret to tell."

Jonathan sighs. "Will. I can't help if I don't know what's wrong. Please. Talk to me. I'll love you no matter what, you know that."

Will heaves a breath. "I had a talk with Steve --" and oh, the rage in Joyce's chest when she hears that. What did he say to her boy?? "And...uhg. fuck. Okay, you have to swear, swear! You're not going to tell anyone what I'm going to tell you. If you figure it out, because I don't. It's not mine to tell."

"okay. I swear. I won't go spilling Steve's secrets."

"you have to mean it, Jonathan. It's dangerous!"

There's ruffling fabric. Jonathan's voice is softer. "I promise."

"Steve said he was telling me because he thought we might be...similar. In some ways. And he talked about who he's dating. And that Hopper and El and Robin and Eddie know. And that they're all safe. Y'know? Like you are."

"okay..."

"and I said you were, and he said that was really good, and then emphasized that if I ever wanted like, and actual grown up to talk to, not just another teenager, Hopper was safe. But. The way he said it made it seem like...I don't know, but something was off? And I asked him." There's a pause. "I asked him if Mom knew. And he said yes. But he hadn't... Before that, he hadn't said she was safe. Jonathan..."

Something...wasn't adding up. Joyce was trying to puzzle what she wouldn't be safe to talk to about. She'd been in the tunnels and Upside Down and through it all. Her children, and by extension the children that had helped save them, were always safe in her house. To come to her if they felt unsafe. Why Steve would tell her own son she wasn't --

Will continued. "Steve said that it'd probably be different because I'm her kid, y'know? She--she did all this stuff to get me back and to keep me safe and loves me. So she could. So she'd maybe change her mind. For me."

"Will..." Jonathan's voice sounds pained.

"but what if she's not? What if that's where it ends? Shell save me from a demogorgon but not love me for this. Steve's saved my friends half a dozen times, Jonathan! He got--he got tortured" that is not something Joyce knew. When the hell did that happen? "with Robin to protect Dustin and Erica, Billy beat him half to death when he stepped in to protect Lucas and Max! He's good! I'm not as close to him as the others but he still told me. He trusted me enough with a secret that I can't even say outloud about myself yet! And Mom still-" will hiccups, and Joyce wishes she knew what he was talking about. Wishes he was saying these things to her, so she could comfort him.

Heaving a breath, Will is quieter. "Steve's the reason no one's died. He's El's first brother. And she still called him disgusting for-- for kissing someone he loves."

Ice fills Joyce's veins, a heavy pit balls in her stomach. Because that's not--she didn't--it wasn't like that.

But Steve had begged her not to tell anyone. Had stood still and not tried to justify anything and called her ma'am when he asked her not to tell. Held himself still when she was around and bolted at the first possible opportunity, leaving disappointed people in his wake. Oh, shit. Oh, she's fucked up so badly. Hurt some kid because she was suspicious of him from over three years ago and assumed the worst. Instead of realizing that maybe the reason he and his girlfriend were keeping it quiet was because he didn't have a girlfriend at all, and that the boy he kissed that night was his boyfriend, she had just assumed he was cheating. And then she'd told him he was disappointing and disgusting and a bad influence on the kids. Even after, he still made sure Will knew there were safe people around, that he'd have someone to talk to. And all she'd done was make him scared of her.

"oh, buddy."

Will's voice is muffled, and Jonathan has probably pulled him into a hug. It cracks when he speaks. "how can she say that about Steve but still love me? When so much of this shit's been my fault?"

"none of this is your fault. Don't believe that, will. No one blames you or El for any of it. You know that, right?"

"okay..."

"it's true. And as for mom...I don't know." Jonathan huffs "I'm not sure. I'm sorry, buddy."

Joyce turns then, feeling sick. She shouldn't have eavesdropped on her children, but now she had she was going to make things right. Hopefully.

Ensure everyone, including Steve, knew she was safe.

Part 3

#joyce byers #will byers #steve Harrington #jonathan byers #steddie #stranger things #steve and el #is implied its more in the first bit #finda writes stuff #finda's rambles #misunderstanding #implied homophobia #joyce doesn't like steve au #add the part 3/part 2.5 link two days later sorry pals

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2996-sana · 7 months

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a not so spicy confession

summary: when Y/N's secret crush on Sana becomes too much to bear

beneath the old tree in the university courtyard, nayeon nudged you, a smirk playing on her lips. "you've got a serious staring problem," she teased.

you rolled your eyes and shot back, "oh, shut up. no, i don't."

chilling on a bench, jihyo joined in, nodding towards the other side of the courtyard where sana, your long-time crush, was minding her business. "yeah, the only time she has a staring problem is when sana is around," jihyo chuckled.

nayeon, with a sly grin, added her two cents. "you know, y/n, if you weren't such a coward, you wouldn't be just staring at her from afar." she shook her head in mock disappointment.

you scoffed, defending yourself, "i'm not a coward. i just... appreciate the view, okay?"

jihyo shot you a skeptical look. "appreciate the view? come on, it's been, like, forever. just go talk to her."

you shook your head, a resigned smile on your face. "nah, it's never gonna happen. sana won't be interested anyway."

nayeon smirked knowingly, "or maybe she's waiting for you to make a move, but you're just stuck in 'appreciating the view' mode."

you scoffed again, tossing a playful punch at nayeon's arm, "come on, you guys know as well as i do that sana's got a line of admirers longer than the coffee queue in the morning. why would she bother with me?"

jihyo playfully rolled her eyes, a dramatic sigh escaping her lips. "y/n, it pains me to say this, but you're actually pretty cute. it's not too far-fetched for her to be into you."

nayeon, lost in thought for a moment, suddenly perked up with excitement. "oh, that's right! remember that one time in junior year when sana asked me about you? she was like, 'hey, is y/n in class? i wanted to ask her something.' and i was like, 'why don't you ask her yourself?'"

your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "wait, what? junior year? why didn't you tell me about this before?"

nayeon, with a sheepish grin, replied, "it just randomly popped into my head now. but seriously, y/n, you've got to give yourself more credit!"

jihyo jumped back into the conversation, her tone teasing. "see, y/n? sana's not just asking about anyone. you've got her intrigued."

before you could reply, you caught the sound of sana's laugh, echoing from her table with mina and momo. nayeon nudged you, smirking, "well, there's your girl."

your cheeks turned a shade of pink. "yeah, yeah, not a big deal."

sana, mina, and momo had been tight since their move from japan, sticking together like glue throughout university. sana's laugh kept ringing out, and you couldn't help but think back to when sana's laugh had first captivated you. you wondered if, just maybe, you could ever be the reason behind that infectious laughter.

just then, jeongyeon arrived at your table. "hey, are you guys hitting up miyeon's party tomorrow night?" she asked, munching on a boiled egg.

nayeon and jihyo nodded simultaneously. "of course! you bet we'll be there, and don't worry, we're dragging y/n along too," nayeon declared with a mischievous grin.

you rolled your eyes. "yeah, yeah. i was planning to go anyway. got a ton of free time this week."

jeongyeon sighed, chewing on her boiled egg. "ugh, i wish i had free time. my super-intense calculus prof is trying to kill us with assignments."

fast forward to the day of the party, nayeon swung by your apartment, exclaiming, "ready to see your girlfriend tonight?"

you rolled your eyes as you entered the car, "sana’s not my girlfriend.”

jeongyeon giggled, "who said we were talking about sana?"

nayeon couldn't resist teasing, "you keep denying it, but the heart wants what it wants, y/n. maybe tonight's the night sana will realize you’re her soulmate."

you chuckled, "sana and i barely know each other."

jihyo joined in, "yeah, but strangers can become friends, and friends can become more than that, you know? especially at a party with the right mood and a touch of magic in the air."

nayeon added, "you know, we're all graduating soon. you might regret not making a move."

jeongyeon and jihyo chimed in agreement, teasing you more about missed opportunities and what-ifs. you, lost in thought, couldn't help but consider the possibilities.

as you arrived at the party, dahyun greeted you at the door with infectious energy, exclaiming, "what's up, what's up, party peopleeee! prepare yourselves for a night of epic proportions!"

you guys couldn't help but laugh at dahyun's lively entrance, and as you made your way inside, she continued her entertaining banter and turned to you, “unnie, grab your dancing shoes because tonight we're going to break it down on the dance floor! and if you see miyeon, give her a high-five for throwing the party of the century!"

you amused by dahyun’s obvious drunkenness turned to your junior and patted her on the head, "well, if the night's as epic as your intro, dahyun, we're in for a wild ride.”

as the night marched on, you could feel the drinks weaving a tipsy tapestry around you. laughter bubbled through the air, but amidst the cheerful chaos, your eyes kept searching for a familiar face in the lively crowd – sana.

then, you spotted her: sana, sporting the cutest brown shirt that hugged all the right places, and those glasses, a rare accessory that added an extra layer of charm. you couldn't help but marvel at how sana seemed to be the standout beauty of the night.

nayeon, with her knack for reading between the lines, couldn't resist a playful jab. "well, well, what's got you all starry-eyed? is it the snacks or someone special catching your gaze?"

jihyo and jeongyeon, sensing an opportunity for some good-natured teasing, joined in. "if you don't act fast, dex might swoop in and steal the spotlight. you wouldn't want to miss your chance forever," jeongyeon teased, the mention of dex causing a subtle shift in your mood.

suddenly, amidst the laughter and teasing, you found yourself feeling a bit low. another shot seemed like a good idea, a temporary escape from the self-doubt and lingering 'what-ifs.'

despite the lively atmosphere, you couldn't shake off a twinge of sadness. the wish to gather the courage and strike up a conversation with sana weighed heavily on you.

nayeon, always the instigator, added more fuel to the playful fire. "come on, y/n! if you don't make a move, dex is going to steal the show, and you'll be left with a bag of 'what-ifs' to ponder over in your graduation cap!"

jihyo chimed in, "you'll regret it if you don't try. plus, it's a party! everyone's a bit buzzed; it's the perfect time!"

jeongyeon, with a conspiratorial grin, added, "you've got nothing to lose and a whole lot to gain.”

despite the encouraging words, your mind swirled with uncertainty. the mention of dex stirred a pang of jealousy you hadn't anticipated, prompting you to reach for another shot, hoping it would wash away the brewing storm inside. dex, the self-proclaimed admirer of sana. he made it known to everyone that sana was his ideal girl, and you couldn't help but scoff at the thought. after all, sana was your dream girl too, so dex wasn't exactly special. yet, you had witnessed how sana gave dex the time of day, even flirting with him a bit.

the night continued, and as you downed more shots, the liquid courage only seemed to fuel the internal struggle. the pulsating music, contagious laughter, and shared moments faded into the background as you grappled with the weight of indecision and the fear of missing out.

an hour later, you found yourself feeling pretty drunk, so you decided it was time to take a breather. you excused yourself, stumbling a bit, and made your way to the kitchen, hoping that some water and maybe a snack could work their magic. as you stepped into the kitchen, though, you couldn't believe your eyes—there was dex, boldly talking up sana. this sight, for some reason, ignited a spark of annoyance within you.

summoning every ounce of sober energy you had left, you marched up to dex and sana. you cleared your throat dramatically and declared, "you guys wouldn’t make a cute couple, you know."

sana burst into laughter, a warm sound that filled the room. "y/n? you okay?" she asked, a playful glint in her eye. on the other hand, dex looked puzzled and muttered, "i think she's drunk."

you, determined to prove your sobriety, straightened up and insisted, "i'm not drunk. and even if i were, trust me, any clear-headed person could see you two wouldn't be cute together."

dex, still trying to process your bold statement, stammered, "uh, why not?"

you fired back, "well, dex, you're like a plain sandwich, and sana deserves a five-star meal. no offense, of course."

sana, thoroughly amused at the unfolding scene, exchanged an amused glance with dex, who seemed utterly perplexed by your sudden proclamation. "you're a riot, y/n," sana teased, suppressing a laugh.

dex, still looking baffled, just shrugged, and sana, with a playful smile, said, "excuse us for a moment, dex. i think y/n needs a bit of fresh air."

as sana led you out of the kitchen, you couldn't help but mutter, "i am sober, you know."

sana chuckled, "sure, y/n, of course, you are."

while climbing the stairs, sana continued to giggle, and with a teasing smile, she added, "you're the soberest person i've ever seen."

you reached what you assumed was miyeon's room but you couldn’t really process anything right now, and sana gently guided you to the bed. sana gently asked, "do you know where nayeon, jihyo, or jeongyeon is?”

sana, grabbing her phone, seemed to be in the process of contacting one of them to come to your rescue.

in the midst of this, you couldn't shake the feeling of regret creeping in. you blurted out, "are you upset with me? i mean, i interrupted you, right?"

sana, still calm and collected, assured you, "no, not upset. just want to make sure you're okay."

you knew you were gonna regret all of this tomorrow but, fueled by the liquid courage coursing through her, you decided you didn't care about the impending consequences. your world could crumble tomorrow; tonight was for saying whatever you wanted.

in the haze of inebriation, you couldn't help but make a lighthearted comment, "i have a talent for messing things up spectacularly, huh."

sana giggled, "well, you did add a bit of drama to the party, that's for sure."

sana sighed, her attempts to reach nayeon, jihyo, or jeongyeon proving unsuccessful. she turned to you, a concerned look on her face, and asked, "will you be okay staying here for a while? i can't seem to contact any of them."

you, still feeling a bit woozy, nodded and managed a small smile, "yeah, sure. it's fine."

"great," sana replied, a playful glint in her eye. "so, am i staying with you?" she asked, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

you couldn't help but blush at sana's words. "uh, yeah, sure. you can stay," you stammered.

sana giggled at your adorable reaction, then her expression turned thoughtful. "hey, remember that five-star meal comment from earlier? what was that about?"

you groaned in embarrassment, burying your face in your hands. "can we please forget about it?”

sana, however, was not one to let things go easily. she nudged you, still grinning, and asked, "is there someone you think is a five-star meal?"

you, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, mumbled, "no one, really. it was just a silly thing i said."

but sana persisted, a mischievous glint in her eye, "come on, spill the beans. i want to know who's a five-star meal in your book."

you, still blushing, let out an exasperated laugh. "okay, fine, if i have to pick someone, it's you, okay? happy now?"

sana's eyes sparkled with delight, and she responded with a charming grin, "well, thank you for the compliment. you're not so bad yourself, you know."

sana seeing you blushing pushed even more, “so, y/n, if you were to pick someone who's worthy of me, who would it be?"

you groaned, realizing sana's playful challenge. "i don't know, maybe someone who matches your vibe?"

sana's smile widened, and she playfully poked your nose. "that's a good answer, but you're not getting away that easily. come on, anyone in particular?"

still oblivious to sana's underlying intentions, you thought for a moment and then shrugged. "i don't know, sana. you're pretty amazing. i can't think of anyone else."

sana shifted her gaze, looking at you as if she were analyzing and trying to read you. after a moment, she spoke with a knowing tone, "you like me, don't you?"

you were taken aback, your eyes widening. “what do you mean?"

sana only laughed, a musical sound that danced through the air. "i can tell, y/n. mina and momo notice it a lot too when you're staring. i think it's cute."

now thoroughly embarrassed, you stammered, "i-i don't know what you're talking about. i mean, why would i—"

sana interrupted, her laughter contagious, "relax, y/n. besides, it's not like it's a big secret."

trying to regain your composure, you managed a nervous laugh. "i didn't think it was that obvious."

sana, still wearing that mischievous grin, pushed further, "so, when you mentioned the five-star meal earlier, were you referring to yourself?"

your face turned an even deeper shade of red. "what? no!"

sana interrupted playfully, "come on, y/n, don't be shy. besides, if you think you're a five-star meal, who am i to argue?"

sana's expression softened, and she looked at you with a warmth that sent shivers down your spine. "you know, y/n, in case you were wondering, i don't mind at all."

still trying to process everything, you mumbled, "i... uh, i didn't think you'd notice."

sana winked, "i notice a lot more than you think. and i gotta say, it’s flattering. makes me feel special."

you couldn't help but smile, the tension easing. "well, i guess i can't hide anything from you."

sana leaned back, a thoughtful expression on her face. "you really shouldn't try to hide these things, y/n. life's too short for secrets."

you nodded, "yeah, you're right."

sana, with a glint of mischief in her eyes, issued a challenge. "y/n, can you say it?"

you were appalled. "say what?"

sana grinned, "that you like me. out loud."

you protested, "why do i have to say it? it's practically implied. i'm sure you know!"

sana, undeterred, playfully challenged her, "come on, y/n. it's different when you say it. try it."

you sighed, feeling cornered. "fine. i like you, okay?"

sana's eyes sparkled with amusement, and she teased, "such a charmer, y/n."

you rolled your eyes. sana, still wearing that playful grin, leaned even closer, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. she smiled sweetly and said, "i have another challenge for you, y/n.”

"another challenge? what is it?"

sana's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "take me out on a date."

you couldn't help but blush, the realization sinking in. "are you saying... i have a chance?"

sana nodded, her gaze unwavering. "more than a chance, y/n.”

you felt a mix of excitement and disbelief, and managed a shy smile. "i never expected this."

sana leaned even closer, "i guess life is full of surprises, especially the ones that make your heart race a bit faster."

that’s when you realized that taking a chance on love – no matter how unconventional – can lead to the most extraordinary adventures (and to having the prettiest girlfriend in the room).

so, to anyone out there with a crush, just confess. you never know – you might end up with a girl like sana who thinks you're the missing piece to their puzzle. and if they reject you, just pretend it was a dare or blame it on a sudden urge for honesty. works like a charm.

#twice x reader #twice imagines #sana x reader #minatozaki sana x reader #twice sana

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quitealotofsodapop · 2 months

Note

So can we get more context on this situation for the Tang River Water au?

referencing this au.

Literally one of the first things Peng does when they get released from the Scroll is to try and kill who he thinks is Tripitaka [Tang]. Peng presses on Tang so forcefully that the stone around him cracks. Tang doesn't be looking so great afterwards either.

Only reason Tang isn't passing through Diyu after this scene is Azure mentioning that he's just the monk's reincarnation (which 100% must have tickles Peng pink since they of all people know how embarassing it must have been for Buddha's teacher's pet to fail to break the cycle of rebirth). I have seen aus where Tang does die in this scene and his Golden Cicada powers have to come in clutch to keep his soul there. (link to a really cool animatic)

But in the "Mother Child River Tang" au?

Peng immediately takes one look at this *obviously* pregnant monk and just starts screeching with laughter! You know that sound peacock's make thats like a strangled laugh? That is all Peng is doing for their first five minutes out of the Scroll.

Yellow Tusk has already given Azure a warm welcoming hug and gotten caught up on the most recent millenium by the time Peng manages to catch their breath.

Peng: "The- [peacock cry]! The monk is- [more peacock cries!] ahhhhh! I can't even be mad at him right now! It's so funny!" Tang, still a little hurt, now offended: "Rude. A pregnant man isn't that funny." Peng: "But a pregnant monk is! Looks like that vow of chasity didn't stick eh?" Azure: "Peng, they are not the monk." Peng, laughter stops: "...then who the Diyu are they??" Tang, emboldened: "I'm Tang! Reincarnation and/or decendant of the Great Monk! And this is my husband Pigsy, our son MK, and our friends." Peng, tears in eyes: "HE MARRIED THE-!" [peacock cry!] Azure & Yellow tusk: *both sigh tiredly*

On a more serious note, since Sandy was forced to push Tang out of the way of Yellow tusk's attack + Peng pinned him to the ground, the Monkey King's part of the Scroll is damaged, MK is having a mental breakdown, and if we combine this with "Slow Boiled Stone Egg" au - the Brotherhood has taken Yuebei Xing hostage? Tang is in a lot of physical and emotional distress rn.

Like... enough to trigger early labor-level of distress.

Bodhisattva Guanyin is summoned immediately to Subodhi's temple before any actual training can occur. She's (and many other buddhist deities) so preoccupied in making sure that the Golden Cicada and his baby survives that they are distracted from the threat sieging Heaven at that moment...

Pigsy has to be held back from trying to tear the Brotherhood apart himself. Zhu Bajie wasn't *just* "some demon". He used to be one of the most powerful Marshals in Heaven - commanding 80 thousand heavenly sailors/soldiers. In one mythology, Marshal Tianpeng was even a son of Doumu - the mother of constellations (making him the Queen Mother of the West's brother oddly enough).

Whos to say that Pigsy doesn't accidentally tap into the powers of that life? The whole naval power of Heaven is suddenly at Subodhi's school, waiting for the orders to turn the Brotherhood into a fine red smear on the wall. It's only Tang's own pleading that Pigsy doesn't act rashly.

The chaos does lead to an odd conciencidence occuring though...

Nezha, post-s4: "I do wonder... has the Jade Emperor broken the cycle of rebirth? If not, then that means the location of his soul could prove dangerous if left unchecked. I must contact the Underworld." *starts mediatating* MK: "What do you mean?" Nezha: "The Emperor was eons old. That amount of acculmilated divine power needs a host that can handle it. Like-" Tang & Pigsy's baby: *snorts/burps loudly* Nezha, realising: "-the child of the Golden Cicada and of the Doumu herself..." Yama, King of Hell, astral projecting: "You guys are not gonna believe where the Emperor ended up! He's in a half-demon piglet somewhere- oh there she is!" Tang & Pigsy: ( 0_0) (0_0 ) "uh oh"

#mother child river tang au #slow boiled stone egg au #lmk aus #pregnancy tw #lmk tang #lmk pigsy #lmk peng #lmk azure lion #freenoddles #freenoodlesshipping #lmk #lego monkie kid

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bluepeachstudios · 1 year

Text

Ghost's Birthday Part 3

Ghost's Birthday Masterpost

Where do you take Ghost first? You chose to take Ghost to see the dinosaurs first.

Leo made a good argument for the planetarium, but in the end Mikey's idea won out. Ghost had been giving them random dinosaur facts since they were kids; it was hard to ignore that.

They headed for the 4th floor, where the majority of the dinosaurs were, and began exploring. Donnie and Ghost took their time looking at the displays and reading the descriptions while Leo and Mikey were the opposite, giggling as they ran around pointing out the skeletons and taking selfies of each other pretending to be eaten by the displays.

Ghost paused by the triceratops, staring at it harder than he had the others. Mikey noticed first.

"Your favorite?" He guessed.

"Least," Ghost answered. He reached up and scratched his temple.

"Oh. What's your favorite, then?"

"My favorite is the argentinosaurus," Ghost answered, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "It's one of the biggest land animals to ever live, possibly the biggest. It lived during the Last Cretaceous period, and they've only found fragments of fossils of it before, so it's a little hard to guess what they really looked like, but there are computer model recreations and estimations based on the bones they have found."

As he talked, he became more animated, his eyes brightening. He shifted his focus from the triceratops to the stegosaurus, ambling over.

"The one specimen they found was in Argentina, which is where it got its name from. A computer simulation that was studying its gait found that it actually walks at a decent speed despite its size, about 7.5 kilometers per hour. And even though it's the largest known titanosaur, there are some other sauropods that may have been larger, but there's so little pieces left of them it's impossible to tell. The blue whale's mass still far outweighs even the argentinosaurus, though. The argentinosaurus is only about 75 tons, and a blue whale can get bigger than 150."

Ghost had drawn Leo, Donnie and Raph's attention now as well. He'd always gotten excited talking about dinosaurs, but he'd never had his eyes wide and his voice so expressive. He shook his fists at his sides and leaned up on his toes.

When Ghost finished his small infodump, he looked down at Mikey and his expression faltered. If Mikey didn't know any better, he would have thought Ghost was flustered.

"You know sometimes I'm reminded how much of a huge nerd you are," Leo blurted.

"Leo!" Mikey gasped with a laugh.

"Says the guy who can quote all of Jupiter Jim 7 1/2: Don't Forget Pluto," Donnie snarked.

"Far off at the edges of our galaxy-" Leo started loudly.

Ghost quickly slung an arm over his shoulders and pressed a hand over his mouth, whispering, "Inside voice, Leonardo."

"Sorry," Leo said through his hand. "But I really can recite the whole thing."

"I know," Ghost murmured, a hint of pride in his tone.

"Ghost, look!" Mikey squeaked from the doorway to the next room. Ghost walked after him, peering inside.

"That sure is a giant sloth," Donnie noted, peeking around him.

Ghost let out a breath, ducking his head.

"Sabertooth tiger!" Mikey pointed and rushed over to the display.

"That's a smilodon," Ghost informed him.

"I don't see any smiles on Don," Leo quipped. Donnie shoved him and he toppled over.

"They lived during the Pleistocene," Ghost continued as Raph pulled Leo to his feet. "Only went extinct about 10,000 years ago."

"That's such a long time," Mikey marveled.

"Not in the history of the entire planet, Michael, it's quite recent," Donnie said matter-of-factly.

"I can't even wait 10 seconds for an egg to heat up in the microwave," Leo complained.

"An egg in th-?!" Mikey whipped around to stare at Leo, mortified.

Ghost rubbed a hand over his face. "Leo..."

"Whaat I learned my lesson!" Leo defended. "You only put it in for five seconds at a time!"

"With the shell?" Mikey moaned.

"Well how else am I going to fast-boil an egg, Miguel?"

"As our family court stenographer, I've put Leo down for a second consecutive life sentence for culinary-related crimes," Donnie said, tapping away at his wrist pad. "May we have the jury's approval?"

#tmnt #tmnt ghost in the shell #Ghost's Birthday cyoa #rottmnt #tmnt 2003

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peaktotheocean · 2 years

Text

Home Economics

Pairing: Steddie on ao3 here Summary:

The girls of Hawkins High thought it was cute that Steve Harrington took Home Ec. All the guys thought he did it just to get the girls.

Steve Harrington signed up for Home Ec because he hadn't seen his parents in a few weeks and he was getting pretty tired of Pop-Tarts.

or-- Five times Steve used the skills he learned in Home Ec and one time he let someone else take the reins.

1. Dustin wasn’t dying per se but after a 24 hour stomach bug, he certainly looked like it. Steve knew that, in theory, it was safe for the kid to eat again. Dustin had a limited window between his appetite returning and his empty stomach turning to nausea again.

Which was where Steve came in.

Steve, who had taken off from Family Video in order to stay with Dustin while his mom had a big presentation at work. Steve, who was currently digging through the Henderson fridge as if he was on an archaeological expedition. Dustin stared at him the whole time but Steve tried not to hold it against the kid, given how out of it he was.

"How about some protein? Think you could stomach some scrambled eggs? No cheese, nothing else in them. Just the eggs." Steve kept his voice low and soft, like it had been all afternoon. He flipped open the carton lid to reveal a half dozen eggs still available.

"Can you make scrambled eggs?" Dustin blurted out. Steve snorted and took Dustin's response as a yes.

"I can make them for you scrambled, poached, hard-boiled, soft-boiled, sunny-side-up, over-easy. Your pick, man. We just need to get some food into you." Steve resisted the urge to press the back of his hand to Dustin's forehead again. His fever broke already, he knew it and the thermometer confirmed it, but Steve still found himself wanting to triple check. Instead, he occupied his hands with a spatula, frying pan, and a carton of eggs, carefully balancing his way over to the counter.

"Whoa. That's a lot of options." Dustin looked as thought he was about to fall off his kitchen chair but Steve had already tried and failed to get him to stay on the couch.

"How about scrambled?" Steve suggested gently, taking pity on the kid. "Quick, easy, and soft."

Dustin's stomach growled. He gave Steve a big smile, the first he'd seen since he had gotten to the Henderson house and even if the bug wasn't through with Dustin yet, it felt great to see the expression again.

"That sounds really good," Dustin moaned. Steve just hoped the eggs would stay down. They should but sometimes that didn't matter.

“Scrambled egg are an easy one," Steve kept talking as he grabbed a small bowl and a fork and set them out on the counter. "First week of Home Ec we made scrambled eggs. I got so many pieces of shell in my bowl the first time I tried cracking an egg. It was pathetic, man." Steve held his breath for a split second as he cracked an egg into the bowl perfectly, following it up with another one. "And now look at me." He tilted the bowl but Dustin's eyes didn't exactly focus on the eggs. "No shells. First try."

“Wait. You took Home Ec? Why?” Dustin's eyes widened, not paying attention to the eggs anymore as Steve used a fork to break up the yolks and mix the two together. “For the ladies? Do girls like that?”

Steve huffed softly and shook his head. “Gotta eat, kid," he said instead, turning back to the oven and dumping the eggs into the frying pan. Which wasn’t really an answer but thankfully, Dustin was too hungry to attempt any follow ups.

2. It should have felt weirder to be relegated to babysitting duty because Will Byers' actual big brother was on a date with Steve's ex. But it didn't. It might be the least weird thing that had happened to Steve in a while. Besides, he liked Will. The kid was quiet and traumatized but he could whip out some devastating one-liners when he wanted to. Steve could appreciate that.

The only problem was the teeth-pulling it took to get the kid to start talking in the first place. Steve knew it wasn't his fault, but some days at the Byers house, it felt as though he and Will were starting from scratch.

Luckily, Steve had a plan for that.

"What are your thoughts on dessert?" He asked Will, all while leaning down to peer into the open fridge.

"Um...I don't think we have any." Will followed Steve's actions to look at the same sparse fridge, even emptier now that he and Steve had used the last of the canned spaghetti sauce and eaten the leftover garlic bread for dinner.

"Well, you've got the ingredients for some so long as you don't mind putting those muscles to use doing some mixing, we're in the clear." Steve nudged him and gave him a smile. He didn't really respond but Steve was used to that. "Unless you think your mom is going to miss some cocoa and butter. Two sticks is a lot but I'm really feeling some fudge brownies tonight. Like, real fudgy, you know?” Steve exaggerated a groan and set his hand on his stomach.

"Oh wow. Yes please," Will said hurriedly. "That sounds really good." He was wide-eyed as if he was starving for brownies even though he just helped Steve polish off a pound of pasta.

Teenage metabolisms were no joke, Steve thought as he set the butter and eggs out on the counter. He knew his recipe called for four eggs but that was a lot to take out of the Byers' new carton of a dozen. Especially for brownies that would no doubt be gone within twenty-four hours either by Will, Jonathan, or any of the other bottomless pits that came through the Byers' house during any given day.

"Does that mean you're down for little mixing?" Steve did his best to channel his inner Dustin and held the wooden spoon out in front of him, laid across both of his hands like he had seen the younger kids do with plastic swords.

“I help mom in the kitchen sometimes…” Will offered hesitantly, which to Steve, sounded like a yes. At any rate, Will carefully took the spoon and held it maybe just a little more tighter than necessary. He let Will gather some of his thoughts as he worked his way around the kitchen.

"Yeah? You like it?” Steve had been over enough to know where most everything he needed was located. Large mixing bowl, smaller glass bowl, a pan that he filled with a little bit of water and set on the stove. His mouth salivated at the thought of these brownies. He hadn't made them in forever.

"It's cool. Seeing how things come out. Or don't." Will frowned, making a face that Steve tried his best not to laugh at. One day, maybe Will would tell him the story.

"Yeah, it's pretty satisfying. How about you crack me three eggs into that bowl. Sound good?”

Will gave a little hum but he did a little bounce as he hopped over to the mixing bowl, setting the wooden spoon aside for now. Steve grinned, even as he kept his eye on the melting butter on the stove. He tipped in an excessive amount of sugar and stirred, trying his best to make sure the double boiler didn't shift too much.

“No shells! Great job!” Steve kept going so Will didn't think he was patronizing him. "When I was your age, there were bits of shell everywhere and sometimes they'd hide under the yolk so I'd bite into a cookie and--" Steve stuck out his tongue and groaned. He was rewarded with a laugh that was almost the patented Will Byers Giggle™. He was nearly there.

Will mixed the cocoa in with the eggs and Steve tried his best not to draw attention to the fact that Will matched his stirring beat for beat.

"Careful, it's hot," he warned him, pouring the mixture of sugar and butter into the bowling before stepping back and letting Will continue to mix. Now that he had a task, little Byers was a man on a mission.

"Flour?" Will asked, seeing Steve sort through some of the dry ingredients in the pantry closet.

"Yeah, we don't need a ton. But flour, some baking powder, salt. It'll do the trick."

Steve let out a groan when the last of the white flour disappeared with Will's mixing skills. "This is what I'm talking about. You mixed some excellent batter." He was not going to test taste it because Home Ec had taught him all about the potentials of salmonella and Will Byers had been through enough. Maybe he could go to the library and find an egg-less batter recipe that the kids could sneak a bite of next time. It would certainly ease his anxiety for anytime Erica tried to sneak more than a taste of just kicking the spoon.

Will didn't seem privy to Steve's dilemma about potential illnesses but he still hung onto his every word so Steve kept talking.

"I'm telling you, Will. You swirl a little caramel through this bad boy and you'd be golden. Next time, we'll do that."

"Not this time?" Will asked hopefully and Steve ignored the tug at his heart. It was almost embarrassing what he'd do for these kids. Including wanting to go back in time to make caramel for Will to have in his brownies.

"Nah, caramel needs time to cool overnight. I hadn't anticipated a sweet tooth attack, you know?" Plus, he hated cleaning the pot afterwards and almost always fucked it up. Which was fine for his own pots but definitely not ones belonging to Mrs. Byers.

"Do you...get those often?" Will asked, confused but he didn't sound against the idea.

"Not for chocolate normally. But, don't tell anyone," Steve leaned in to whisper, "I keep chocolate chip cookie dough in the freezer. For emergencies."

"Emergencies?" A little smile appeared on Will's face and Steve knew what he was thinking. The kind of emergencies they ran into weren't exactly ones that had them thinking about food.

"You never know when you're going to need a tupperware container full of cookie dough, Will Byers," Steve said in an authoritative voice, channeling Hopper.

He could see the kid thinking it over, his eyes darting from the mess of ingredients on the counter to the fridge. The appeal of having cookie dough around versus probably not wanting to ask his mom when she already did so much. That was all right though, because he also had Steve.

There was more than enough emergency cookie dough in Steve’s freezer to go around. Not to mention butter, sugar, and chocolate chips to make more. And the new peanut butter chips that Nestle just released that Robin and Lucas had been going wild over for the past few weeks. Not that either of them waited for Steve to actually incorporate them into baked goods but one day he’d get the upper hand.

“Nancy said you took Home Ec.” It was both a question and not a question. Will’s voice went up at the end of it but they both knew Nancy wasn’t in the habit of lying.

“I did!" Steve told him, delighted by the reminder. He wondered how that had even come up but the kids were almost freshmen. Choosing electives was going to happen sooner rather than later. "It was great. I learned how to make this.” He gestured towards the goopy brownie batter. "And many, many other things." Bending down, Steve opened a few of the drawers until he found a square glass dish.

He held the bowl of batter over and watched as Will patiently scraped all of the mixture into the glass dish, a pensive expression on his face. Will kept silent as Steve popped the dish into the oven and set the timer.

"Did they tease you? I just..." Will stumbled over his words but Steve waited patiently, eyes now trained on the dirty mixing bowls. "I didn't think many guys took Home Ec," he added quickly, a flush on his face.

They hadn’t, Steve remembered.

“They might have given me shit but I didn’t give them a chance.” Steve shrugged, as if it was that easy. He squirted some dish soap into the bowls and flicked the faucet on.

“Really?” Will asked so hopefully that Steve wanted to bring his bat into the middle school and follow Will and the other kids around like a vengeful specter.

“Really." Steve shifted so his hip bumped against Will. "Sometimes it’s just a matter of confidence, bud. I know that’s easier said than done but if you brush them off, act like you don’t care? It’ll go a long way. My favorite is acting confused," he whispered, as if it was a big secret and Will let out a little half giggle. Steve schooled his expression into that of a confused airhead jock. "Like-- what's wrong with Home Ec? Why is this such a big deal to you guys? Do you not want to eat brownies during fourth period? Don’t you have more important things to worry about?”

There was that full giggle. Will’s hair bounced a little as his laugh hiccuped and Steve couldn’t help but smile. It was a good sound to hear from such a serious kid.

"Come on, help me clean this mess up and then hopefully there'll still be brownies when your mom gets home and she won't mind that I used two sticks of butter in them.”

3. Steve always tried his best to hide his yawns from Max. Seeing them would only make her try to excuse herself from his house even though it was only six in the evening. However, it was harder to hide the growling from his stomach.

Steve knew he had to beat Max to the punch. He had been doing pretty well so far. She had slept over twice already this week but there was something in her head about inconveniencing Steve that she couldn’t shake. As if he had a social life outside of the kids and Robin.

“Come on. No more essay revision until after dinner,” Steve begged, already heading to the kitchen, not taking no for an answer. She’d finish homework way faster with some food in her stomach.

“You can just order pizza. You don’t have to cook,” Max told him hurriedly.

Steve didn’t want to sound like a hypocrite. He knew that both him and Max had lonely home lives. But even with the similarities, he didn’t know how to make her believe that he wanted her there. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever believe it if someone tried it on him either though, so he couldn’t blame her.

“I like cooking, Max,” he told her instead. Steve tugged a bag of flour out of the cabinet and onto the pristine countertops. He couldn’t wait to get them dirty. “Especially pizza.”

“It’s a lot of work.” Max bit her lip and Steve did his best not to sigh.

“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugged at the obvious. “But I like it. I’m certainly better at it than proofreading your English essay. You want to help?” He didn't say that ordering a pizza cost him more money than the ingredients to make one. That was a conversation for a different day, maybe.

Or never.

Never, if he could help it.

“How?” Max crept closer to the counter and Steve resisted the urge to flick some flour on her face. Maybe once she was settled.

"That all depends on what you like on your pizza."

"Tomato sauce...and cheese?" Max tried.

"Perfect. Easy. Feel free to raid the fridge." Steve debated his apron but he needed to wash this sweatshirt anyway. It would be fine. It had nothing to do with not wanting to get ruthlessly teased by a fourteen year old. "I definitely don't have pepperoni or anything but there might be half a pepper in there and some mushrooms if you're into that kind of thing."

"I've never had mushrooms,” Max admitted. She looked at the container with a healthy amount of skepticism, which Steve thought was fair. The bright orange pepper slammed down on Steve’s other side. Shredded mozzarella and a half-used jar of tomato sauce along with it. Max pulled herself up to sit on the counter next to the bag of flour.

"We can put some on one side," Steve decided. "If you don't like, then don't worry. I will graciously devour it myself."

He went around the kitchen, grabbing a few more ingredients but paused at the yeast. He grabbed it anyway and thought about how to work it into the conversation. He normally narrated his actions to the kids while he cooked. He would just have to do it a bit more carefully.

“Some recipes,” he started, getting his hands good and floury, “Require pizza dough to rest for a while. But I’m too hungry for that so we’re going quick and dirty.”

“Ew.”

“Hush. This is how we were able to make pizza in a single period during Home Ec. Fast, easy, and I didn’t have to deal with mystery meat from the cafeteria’s sloppy joes.” Steve gave into the urge to flick flour at Max. She squealed angrily, tilting back on the countertop but she still had a smile on her face.

“It all comes down to this. Yeast.” He shook the cold jar of yeast at her and made a face. He unscrewed the lid and held it out to her so she could peer in at the little granules. “Once it’s mixed in, it’ll smell a little like booze that has gone bad but that’s cause they use yeast to make beer too.”

Max took this information very solemnly and Steve could see her preparing herself for the smell. It wouldn’t be for too long. The dough would go in the oven quickly but he hadn’t wanted it to be a surprise.

The dough went quickly, with Steve pointing out to Max when she could add the very few other ingredients into the bowl so he could combine them all. It was pretty quiet work, just the sound of Steve’s hand working the dough.

"I like putting Doritos on my pizza," Max blurted out.

Steve stopped what he was doing and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah.” Max straightened up from her counter seat, daring him to say anything. “They're crunchy."

"Mayfield, you absolute genius! A texture prodigy!” Steve pointed a flour covered hand towards the pantry. "Go grab a bag and we'll be ready."

"Really?" She had her hands on the edge of the counter, ready to jump off.

"Of course. I can't wait to try,” Steve told her sincerely. “Sometimes Robin puts M&M's on her pizza. That sweet and savory, you know? But you’ll have to wait til next time to try that. We only have so much pizza."

Even more excited by the prospect of there being a next time, Max flung herself off of the counter to raid the Harrington pantry of all its Doritos.

And if his parent’s white couch had bright orange Doritos dust fingerprints all fingerprints all over the fabric, well, at least Steve knew how to clean it up. Thanks to Home Ec.

4. “Did I know you were coming over— oof,” Steve let out a burst of air when Robin slammed a large loaf of bread into his stomach, stalking past him. She bypassed the living room entirely and dropped herself on the bench that lined one side of his kitchen table.

“Good morning to you too,” Steve mumbled to the paper-wrapped loaf of bread he held in his hands. He squeezed it a little and a satisfying crunch came from the hard brown crust.

Steve followed the moans into his kitchen and set the bread on the counter, wondering if it was too early for French toast or if Robin was going to take the bread back from him at some point.

“My dad ordered my mom this fancy birthday cake from the market so I went to go and pick it up but I got to the bakery section and—“

“Oh my god— Maggie Stewart?” Steve knew instantly.

“Maggie Stewart,” Robin whimpered. “The cutest girl in the world and she caught me completely off-guard and—“

“You bought a loaf of bread to me instead of bringing a cake home for your mom,” Steve finished for her.

Steve remembered Maggie Stewart. Not only was she one of the cutest girls in his grade, but they had been in Home Ec together. Maggie excelled at every recipe and he hadn’t been surprised to learn that she immediately accepted a job in the bakery section at the local market after graduation.

He couldn’t fault Robin’s tastes. Cute, good at baking, and not to mention extremely sweet. When Steve struggled in the first few weeks of Home Ec, Maggie always leaned over to kindly point out the differences in baking powder and baking soda, or to remind Steve to wipe off the rims of his glass jars before putting lids on them and sealing them for canning.

Steve sighed and maneuvered around Robin to the fridge, taking out a carton of milk and a few eggs.

“You like cinnamon, right? And nutmeg?” He asked, already knowing the answer. He plucked a few items out of his spice rack. Technically, Steve supposed it was still his mother’s spice rack but she hadn’t used it in years. It had come with the house, all neat and orderly, with printed labels on the little tins.

In the past few years, Steve had really made it his own, tucking a few of the least-used spices to the back of the pantry and adding new favorites in tiny mismatched glass jars. There were a few of the block-printed labels left but most of them had Steve’s handwriting scrawled on the masking tape that wrapped around the bottles.

“Obviously.” Robin straightened up to peer over the kitchen island at Steve’s supply gathering. “What are you doing?”

“Well, it’s early and my best friend just stormed into my house with good bread so I’m making French toast.” Steve tilted his head towards the load of bread. “I don’t want you cutting the slices but get over here and help with the dunking.”

“Oh.” Robin scrambled off of the bench and took the place by Steve’s side. Steve liked their system: a little assembly line of Robin soaking the slices he had cut into a mixture of milk, eggs, and spices and dropping them into Steve’s frying pan.

“I don’t have a ton in the way of syrup. Just maple.” Steve mentally added more to the grocery list. He knew Max liked the blueberry syrup that the market occasionally stocked. Both the Sinclairs were partial to jam on their breakfast sweets, whether French toast, waffles, or pancakes, but Dustin’s sweet tooth demanded chocolate chips.

“Works for me.”

“It’ll have to. I might have bacon though, if you like to mix your sweet and salty,” Steve offered. It was early enough that he knew Robin hadn’t eaten yet but with kids traipsing in and out of his house, any leftovers wouldn’t last long, especially bacon.

“That sounds great.”

Steve gestured to the fridge. “Have at it. A little breakfast treat for courage before you have to go back to the grocery store.”

Robin groaned and smacked him against the shoulder, which only caused him to laugh aloud.

“Never really thought Steve Harrington would be making me breakfast,” Robin grumbled, separating slices of bacon out on one of Steve’s baking trays.

“I’ve made you breakfast loads of times,” he pointed out. “And lunch. And dinner.”

“Yeah, you’re a freaky good cook but still.”

“My impressive Home Ec skills.” Steve used a spatula to prop up a piece of French toast. Determining that it was fully cooked, he slid it onto the plate with the rest of them and added another slice to the pan.

“You took Home Ec?”

“You didn’t?”

“God no.” Robin shuddered at the thought. “I would have accidentally sewed my fingers together or caught fire.”

“The stoves were electric.”

“I would have found a way.” Steve hummed at that but before he could ask what she took instead, she asked, “How many times did a girl ask you to help her tie her apron?”

“They tie in the front, Rob.”

“Answer the question.”

“A lot,” he sighed. He very maturely didn’t throw his spatula at his best friend as she cackled at him.

“And yet you still suffered through,” Robin said sweetly. “So brave of you.”

“I deserved something nice out of that class,” Steve argued. He hesitated a second but Robin was already giving him a thoughtful look. She’d wait for him to find the words. She knew him well enough now that it was a blessing and a curse but mostly the former. “It was pretty embarrassing. Not taking Home Ec, that was great. But I thought…”

Steve tried to gather those same thoughts to actually say them aloud. He watched Robin drench the entire plate of French toast in maple syrup, not bothering to separate either of their portions. They normally ate off of the same plate.

“Steve?” Robin nudged him after he had gone quiet for too long. Her smile was open and honest. It had been a long time since Steve had trusted anyone like he trusted her. Even if she did covered his whole breakfast in sugar.

“I thought Home Ec existed to teach kids how to feed themselves when their parents weren’t around,” Steve blurted out, faster than he wanted to. He very carefully didn’t look his best friend in the eyes and he took a breath and tried again. “Turns out it was just a life skills class in general, for the future, and my parents were just assholes.”

“Are.” Robin held out a piece of the French toast she had cut and Steve obediently opened his mouth. He had put a little too much cinnamon for his taste but just the right amount for Robin. She waited for him to finally meet her eyes and then she fed him another piece. “They are just assholes. Present tense.”

“Right,” Steve breathed. She was right. He knew that. Robin watched him and flicked off the stove top. She had one hand around the plate of French toast and the other on Steve’s arm, gentle but firm, steering him towards his kitchen table.

“Come on, let’s eat and then you can drive me to the grocery store to watch me make a fool out of myself again.”

5. Steve never went out to the cabin, not by himself anyway. He wasn’t close with Hopper or El but Mrs. Byers had been so relieved to see him when he walked into Melvald’s. Saying no to her when she asked him to drive to the cabin in order drop off some cold medicine for El hadn’t really been an option.

“Should I bring soup too?” Steve had asked instead and Mrs. Byers had beamed at him. Sure, she had assumed he meant canned soup and waited for him to grab some so that she could check out his order all together. Steve had good frozen stock in the chest freezer out in his garage but canned would be fine, he guessed.

Which was exactly how Steve found himself balancing a paper bag full of heavy soup cans and a plastic one filled with cold medicine, cough drops, and tissues as he maneuvered his way around the booby-traps that surrounded the cabin.

He never knew how the kids kept it straight. Dustin had come up with a rhyme for it or something.

A mnemonic device, Steve, not a rhyme, Steve’s inner Dustin chastised him. It didn’t do him any good if he couldn’t remember the order of the words reminding him how many steps to take after the fallen oak before jumping.

“Jump!” Hopper’s voice cut through Steve’s clouded brain and he obeyed without thinking. There was silence and he breathed a sigh of relief that nothing had gone off.

Hopper met him halfway, taking the heavier paper bag from him and knocking him against the shoulder.

“Hey kid. Need another lesson in the traps?”

“You just need less traps,” Steve grumbled back instead, causing Hopper to let out a bark of a laugh.

“Come on, warm up a bit before I lead you back out of the maze.” It wasn’t an offer but an order, which was fine with Steve. He needed a minute to catch his breath.

To his surprise, El was awake and sitting up on the couch. She looked miserable with a sore red nose and her eyes were glazed over as she stared at the TV, but she was still upright.

Steve let Hopper take the other bag from him and approached the couch slowly. Julia Child was on the tv, sticking almonds onto the side of a chocolate cake and El seemed captivated by the action.

“Hey El,” he said softly. She grumbled and didn’t respond but Steve didn’t take it personally.

She pointed at the tv, where Julia was slicing the single layer cake into perfect portions.

“Half of a dress?” She asked and Steve squinted at her and then the TV.

“It’s an apron,” Hopper corrected her before Steve caught on.

“Apron,” she repeated.

“So her clothes don’t get dirty while she cooks. I have one too,” Steve added and that caught her attention. El stared at him and he realized she wanted him to keep talking. “It’s the first thing you make in Home Ec before you start learning how to cook. They have you sew your own apron.”

“You took Home Ec?” Hopper handed him a tea that Steve didn’t really want but holding the hot mug between his hands felt nice. El made a face as she got the same sweet-smelling tea put in front of her.

“Of course.” Steve didn’t elaborate. Hopper didn’t know what Robin knew and if Steve had his way, Hopper was going to remain ignorant.

Hopper, for all that he cared about El and the Byers, never thought too hard about the other members of what Dustin affectionately called The Party. Steve would prefer to keep it that way, at least when it came to his own life.

An image of Max floated up in his mind and Steve thought that maybe Hopper could ask a few more questions.

“Julia Child. She’s a legend,” Steve said, not wanting to leave the silence lingering too long.

“Can I—?” El didn’t finish the sentence but Steve knew what she was asking.

He looked over at Hop again, who didn’t seem to care one way or another. Well, Steve had cooked for nearly everyone else who wasn’t stuck in a cabin nearly 24/7. It seemed only fair.

“Sure, I can help you make an apron and next time I see you, when you feel better, we’ll cook like Julia Child,” Steve promised.

“Chocolate?” El grinned at him hopefully and pointed towards the tv.

Steve laughed and definitely didn’t look at Hopper when he agreed a second time. “Sure, a big chocolate cake.”

He stayed long enough to finish his tea and earn a sleepy sweet goodbye from El but in no time, Steve found himself being led out of the woods by Hopper. It was a quiet walk of the chief directing him on where to jump and avoid before he brought up Steve and El’s plans.

“You didn’t have to promise her that. She’ll hold you to it,” Hopper warned him.

“I don’t mind,” Steve told him honestly. “I like baking stuff. And cooking. Max usually comes around mine to help. El can come too or I can come back here. Just let me know when she’s feeling better.”

“Here first,” Hopper decided immediately. “Trial run. And not just chocolate cake.”

“All right.” Steve shrugged. It wasn’t a hardship to cook, especially with two excited kids, both of whom remind him of himself at that age: eager for any kind of attention.

+1. Eddie stopped kissing Steve once he realized the kitchen sink was full of dishes and the countertops were messier than usual for a regular Tuesday night. He squinted at his boyfriend suspiciously and didn’t give in when Steve tried to pull him back, squeezing his fingers.

“Stevie, did you prepare breakfast ahead of time for us?” He asked, doing his level best not to bang his head against the Harrington’s perfect countertops.

“I wanted to feed you but I didn’t want to get out of bed until I had to,” Steve said earnestly, his brow furrowing, a little confused at the question.

And oh, that was too sweet. Eddie’s boyfriend was the sweetest. It almost made Eddie forget that Steve had yet to let Eddie cook him anything. Help out in the kitchen? Sure. Cook a full meal? Not yet.

Not for lack of trying on Eddie's part, but Steve was always two steps ahead, packing lunch for both of them and Robin, teaching Max how to make spaghetti sauce, having dessert stashed in the freezer, and more. Eddie just wanted to take care of Steve once, to show him that he didn’t have to be the one to feed everyone all the time.

Eddie leaned his head forward into the warm nook between Steve’s neck and shoulder, resisting the urge to take a little nibble. Instead, he rubbed his face against the sweaty skin like an overgrown cat before pulling away with an exasperated sigh.

“Breakfast, huh?”

“Hash browns and a quiche.” Steve waved in the direction of his fridge. “They’ll just need to be warmed up.”

“Write me out instructions and I’ll take care of it in the morning,” Eddie ordered, already prepared for this argument.

“What’s the point of me staying in bed if you’re down here?” Steve grumbled, with a little pout that Eddie would love to kiss. He gave in quickly and Steve didn’t seem to mind too much but Eddie had a long-term plan.

“Someone’s gotta take care of you, Harrington, and I've been applying for the job for weeks now. I was going to make you pancakes but you already beat me to it with twelve hours until morning.” Eddie kissed him again, trying to get his point across. Steve happily let Eddie push him up against the counter, making little noises that were just the starts of potential whimpers that Eddie was going to pull out of him upstairs.

“I like pancakes.” Steve blinked at him, his brain finally processing the sentence. As if no one had ever offered to make him pancakes before. Eddie tried very hard not to think about that, not right now. Maybe another time, when Steve had his emotional support lesbian with him.

“I know, sweetheart. With blueberries and maple syrup.” Eddie took the frozen bag of blueberries out of his bag and quickly tucked them into the Harrington freezer drawer. He made his way back to Steve, still where Eddie had left him against the counter. “They’re not in season so you’ll have to forgive me for frozen ones.”

“I like blueberries.” Steve had a little smile on his face and Eddie knew he was getting closer to success, the cogs of Steven’s brain slowly turning now that Eddie had oiled them. Steve leaned forward to kiss Eddie again, letting his arms drape over Eddie’s shoulders.

“Next time let me do that for you?” Eddie asked, whispering right against Steve’s lips.

“The quiche can freeze?” Steve said quickly. Almost too quickly if the blush growing on his face was anything to go by. But Eddie wasn’t going to let that offer pass him by. He stayed up in Steve’s space, squeezing his hips and kissing up his jaw to whisper in his ear, letting Steve hide his red face against Eddie’s neck. The heat from Steve's cheeks warms Eddie all the way through.

“Yeah? You’re gonna let me take care of you, baby?” Eddie asked quietly, letting his teeth scrape against Steve’s ear.

“Yeah,” Steve managed to get out, even though it seemed like his mouth had become drier than anything in the past thirty seconds. Eddie pulled back and was pleased to find that Steve’s smile had gone from embarrassed to pleased. He liked the idea of Eddie cooking for him and Eddie wasn’t about to let him down.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He kissed Steve’s cheek again and watched as he carefully covered the dishes with double the amount of foil and slipped them into the freezer. Steve came back to him so quickly, almost bouncing back over to his side of the kitchen.

But they didn’t stay there long, Eddie walked Steve back up the stairs, kissing every breathless giggle out of him as the two of them tried to slap each others’ hands away, both attempting to get the upper hand.

It didn’t matter, Eddie knew he had won, and he’d take his victory lap in the morning with blueberry pancakes and a sleepy Steve clinging to his back as he flipped them.

on ao3 here

#stranger things #steddie #i've been slacking putting fic up here #but steve harringotn in an apron he made himself #my fanfic

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fragileizywriting · 3 months

Text

bear with me okay here's an idea (it's not necessarily original, but just. let me have this okay)

kitty and luka have been best friends since birth, really. luka is the prince of [hhhhhhhhhuuhmmmm. uh.] and he needs to find a partner. anarka is deadset on him getting someone to help him out rule, because he's more of a sailor than an actual prince, and lord knows she won't rule this country because she's also more of a sailor than actual queen.

meanwhile kitty is the most aquaphobic person in the world. boats are fine, they're great, but she's kitty— just like a cat, she's a land animal, and luka teases her all the time about it. there's not a single moment that she's on his ship does he not throw her overboard just to hear her scream out explicitives in his direction before climbing back on board like a pathetic wet cat.

(she always throws him overboard as a compensation.)

so there's a giant festival for luka to find someone. very cinderella-like. kitty follows behind on every single part of the festival, following behind luka as a right-hand-man(kitty) and the two of them are kind of dreading the whole thing. luka thinks this is way too much, anarka's just telling him to find someone that won't immediately blow up the country (surely there's someone that isn't going to try to stage a coup) and get on with doing what he actually wants which is sailing; kitty meanwhile just doesn't like the idea of all these girls (and guys!) giggling behind their hands and blushing whenever luka passes by.

he's not a prince charming, okay. he's some dude. she's watched him attempt to eat a whole hard-boiled egg in one swallow and she's watched the result of him spitting it across the table. this is the man who claimed he'd eat his own leather boots if he really needed to in an emergency and she'd watched him attempt to nibble on his shoe laces and proceed to throw up in the nearest flower pot. she's seen him walk into doors and go so quiet when she's reading a book and he's staring at her like she's reading a completely different language. he knows his way around a map and a compass better than a dance floor. she pities the poor dumbass who thinks prince luka knows how to dance. those poor toes... forget glass, whoever dances with him better have some steel-toed shoes.

one of the advisors that's slowly been culling out prince luka's potential suitors came from three kingdoms over just so there wouldn't be that much of a bias. they're still keeping an eye on him to make sure he's not trying to stage a coup by putting someone specific in the listing. kitty in particular has been paying so much attention that the adivosr takes it the wrong way and assumes that she's giving him the adhd glare because of other reasons— on the final round, for whatever reason kitty is put in the line. she's panicking. no amount of her saying "wait no, no, i'm not— hold on, you can't be serious," gets the advisor to listen. she tries to escape through the doors but the guards find it funny and refuse to let her budge. they think it's a prank. the advisor has no idea who she is. she barters with one of the guards— kim— to let her go and she'll get him a shot with one of the girls who had passed by recently and got let out because she was annoying.

no dice.

she's pulled right back in line. arguing and bickering, threatening to open every thread and suture on anyone's clothes who touches her and puts her back.

prince luka comes by just in time to see her standing there in line, bug-eyed, face hotter than anything in the world.

he looks at her.

keeps staring.

brows scrunched.

trying not to piss himself laughing.

she is shaking her head like she's begging god to not let this happen.

"i've found my partner," luka announces, and by the strength of willpower alone, kitty is not giving into the urge to tackle him and shut him up. "she's beautiful, and i know without a doubt she's smart. there's no one better than her. i choose her."

#speakizys #4am ginseng tea

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sunspray-peak · 7 months

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Ch. 60: Camellia Station

SUNDAY - WINTER 14

When Achilles woke, Alex was gone, but he knew better than to worry. He slipped on a pair of socks and padded to the kitchen. No, Alex wasn’t the type to slip silently into the night without a goodbye, he was more likely to—ah yes. There it was.

Alex, dressed in an old crewneck of Achilles’, standing at a sizzling stove, spatula in hand.

The sight of Alex in his clothes, as chaste as their night had been, brought a small tickle to Achilles’ stomach, and after taking just a beat to admire the view, he called “Morning,” from the doorway. “Raiding my closet, I see. Just can’t help but rifle through my things, can you?”

Alex (and Voltaire, who was waiting patiently at Alex’s feet) turned, a wide grin already plastered across his face. “It’s good stuff. Hey, by the way, you don’t have an apron.”

“Why would I need an apron to boil an egg?”

“I’m not wearing, like, one of your $500 sweaters am I?”

“No, it was free. Got it at a signing years and years ago.”

“You’re not lying to me are you?”

“It’s got a bookstore logo on the back, Al.”

“I don’t know, don’t rich people sometimes pay a lot of money for things that look free.”

God, how easy it was still to talk to him. Achilles gave a snort before disappearing back into the bedroom to change and brush his teeth.

When he returned, Alex was setting two plates down on the table, each complete with pancakes, two fried eggs, and some hashbrowns.

Achilles scooted his seat forward and gave the yolk a poke, letting it run into the potatoes. “Is making breakfast the morning after part of the Handbook as well?”

Alex rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he poured Achilles a glass of milk. “I’m not supposed to kiss anyone until the third date, you really think my grandpa had instructions for ‘staying the night’ and ‘the morning after?’ I shouldn’t even be here.”

“So you’re breaking the rules, huh?”

“Only for you, Ash.”

“No, no, don’t try to flatter me this time.” Achilles waved his fork at Alex who was now digging into his plate. “You broke them for Tanya, didn’t you?”

“Huh?”

Oh. Shit.

“Ah. I…” Achilles sighed and set down his fork. “I must confess, I ran into you. Well, not ‘ran into’ because you didn’t see me, I suppose you could say I was snooping—”

“—How the turn tables—”

“—but I saw you and Tanya at the beginning of the season. When she dropped you off in the parking lot that morning.”

Alex blinked several times, as if trying to remember the aforementioned events. Only after he swallowed a rather hefty bite of pancake did he exclaim, “Oh.”

“I’m not mad,” Achilles hurried to say. “Or upset. Just to be clear. Not that I have any right to be mad, anyway. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No, I… I was…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“No, I mean, if I’m honest, I guess I… almost kind of forgot about that.”

Huh. Well clearly it meant nothing, then.

“She just asked me if I wanted to go to a concert after work, and one thing just… led to another, I guess, maybe I figured I’d… Actually. I don’t really know why I did it. I’m really sorry—”

“Yoba, don’t fucking apologize.” Achilles pinched his nose. “Al, you’re obviously allowed to date other people and…” Experiment? Fuck, what’s the right word…

“After Spirit’s Eve, I had this… dream. About… you. And I just… well I panicked, a little. At the time, I just chalked it up to the alcohol and stuff, like we’ve all had weird dreams… but you know, looking back, maybe I… maybe I started liking you a lot earlier than I thought I did. Like, maybe my body had caught on before my brain or something… It’s not that I… hate that I’m… gay.” Alex frowned—his expression darkened for a second before he added firmly, “I’m not my grandpa.

“But I just… well. Like I said last night, I just didn’t believe I could have… feelings for another guy. Like outside of senior year of high school for like five minutes, the thought had never even crossed my mind.

“And I think I just panicked, you know. Was confused for a day, there. And when she asked me out, I think a part of me was just desperate to prove to myself that I was… normal? No, I know, I know, that’s the wrong word, but I mean, I guess I just… I wanted to try and see if I could actually feel some way about a person—about a girl. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I did it because I just… didn’t know what I wanted. Or, thought I was supposed to want something that I didn’t actually want but wanted to test that out—that didn’t make sense, I don’t know. But it didn’t mean anything, shit, I’m sorry—”

“You don’t have to apologize or explain yourself, Al.” Achilles bumped Alex’s foot from under the table. He sighed, lay his fork back next to his plate and shook his head. “You know, I sometimes forget how lucky I was… How easy I had it growing up. I never really questioned anything, I think I always just knew… And I never worried about how my parents would react. Everyone’s got their own journey, right? Don’t apologize for taking your time with yours.”

*****

“Any plans for today? Or is it just getting ready for tonight?”

Achilles sighed and tossed a clumsily re-folded napkin to the left of his empty plate. “Do I ever have plans these days? Might go for a run later, I’m feeling a bit antsy. Likely vicarious nervous energy…”

“What have you got to be nervous about?”

“Well nothing, really. That’s why it’s vicarious.”

“Come on, Ash, you know I don’t know the meaning of any words with four or more syllables.”

“Oh, it’s just like… hmm, like when you experience or feel something second hand, like through somebody else’s experiences. I know Elliott’s probably freaking the fuck out about his reading, and I’m also nervous specifically through him, if that makes sense?”

“Huh.” Alex thoughtfully munched on his last bite of pancake. “So like, when I felt really excited watching you win second place at the Stardew Valley Fair last season, that was like, vicarious excitement?”

“The Stardew Valley Fair? Fuck, was that really the last time I seemed excited about something?” Achilles stood and grabbed his and Alex’s empty plates. “But, yeah, that’s pretty much what vicarious means. Good job.”

“Oh no, let me help you with the dishes—”

“It’s 7:45, shouldn’t you be heading to the bus?”

“Dang, you’re a real party pooper, you know that?”

“We’ve been friends for a year now, it’s your own fault if you weren’t aware. Come on, pip pip, Mr. Manager.” Achilles thwacked Alex’s shoulder on his way to the sink. “You can just keep the shirt.”

*****

They stood on Achilles’ porch, an early morning Winter wind swirling the previous evening’s dust of snow. Alex was rolling on the balls of his feet, hands in his pockets.

“I, um. Well I had a really good time. Last night. And this morning.” He gave Achilles a shy smile before looking quickly away at one of the dead bleeding heart bushes by the greenhouse (Shane had reassured him they would grow back in the Spring).

“Likewise.” Achilles leaned against the doorframe, drying a plate with a dishtowel. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

“I can’t tell if you’re messing with me—”

“I mean, I am. I’m sorry, I’m being an asshole—it’s ‘cause you’re making me nervous, why are you hopping around like that—”

“What? You become an asshole when you’re nervous?”

“Don’t you dare make the joke I know you’re about to make—”

“No idea what you’re talking about—”

“Right, mmhm.” Achilles slapped him lightly with the dish cloth. “Anyway, all that to say… I was messing with you, but I was also serious. I… had a good time, too. And would… genuinely like to do it again.” A beat. “Let me take you out tomorrow, unless that’s too soon?”

Not even a beat. “Nope!”

"I can pick you up from Orange Grove. Take you to dinner. Maybe catch a show, I saw Persephonopolis is in town, I’ve heard good things—actually, wait, do you like theater?”

Alex, who had brightened immediately at Achilles’ offer, was quick to eagerly exclaim, “Yeah!” only to immediately deflate. He bit his lip, scratched the side of his nose. “Well, okay, actually, I don’t know. I’ve never seen a musical before. But I don’t see why I wouldn’t like one! I’m excited!”

“You’ve never seen a musical?”

“Nah, theater just always seemed like it was for… fancy people.”

“Well, I suppose this is our time to be fancy people.”

“You are a fancy people.” Alex glanced down at his collar. “Hmm, I haven’t worn a tie in awhile…”

“Ok, we don’t have to be that fancy—”

“Might be fun though—”

“Hey if you want to go all out, let’s go all out. Whatever you want. Now get off my porch, boyyo, you need to go.”

Alex smiled. His cheeks were red, perhaps from the cold, perhaps from something else… “I… I really like you, Ash.” Achilles’ hands were full (you dumb bitch, why didn’t you leave the damn plate in the kitchen?), but Alex lightly traced the back of his palms before absentmindedly wrapping the corner of the dish towel around his forefinger. “Can I kiss you again?”

Achilles couldn’t help but laugh—oh Alex. How could he be so unaware of the effect he had on him? Then again, he could just be being polite…

“Al.” He set the plate down on the porch swing and trailed his now-free fingers down Alex’s scarf. “I think it’s very sweet that you always ask. But you don’t have to anymore, the answer’s always going to be yes.”

It was a small thing this time—light and quick, but even so, Achilles closed his eyes and savored the brief touch.

“You really ought to go…” Achilles murmured, gently tightening Alex’s scarf. They had dallied long enough, Alex would probably have to run if he wanted to make it to the bus stop in time… “I’ll see you tonight?”

“You know it.”

After but the smallest hesitation, he hopped forward to kiss Achilles on the cheek. And then he was gone.

*****

Achilles was in a daze. For nearly half an hour after Alex had sprinted off, he had continued to sit on his porch, despite the cold and the wind, warmed by his flush from the morning’s events.

Did that really just happen?

The past 12 hours or so… had they all really been… real? Surely this was all but a very good dream.

“Meow!”

Achilles patted his lap as the cat bounded up to join him. “What do you think of Alex, Voltaire? Do you like him?”

“Meow!”

He smiled softly to himself, petting the purring cat. “I do, too.”

Oh, but had they moved too fast? Should he have taken a step back, put on the brakes? Had he sabotaged this with his eagerness before it had even really had a chance to begin? Despite his joke the previous evening, Achilles didn’t often kiss on a first date, let alone invite his dates to stay the night.

But those had usually been strangers—acquaintances, mutual friends at best. Surely this was different. He and Alex had been friends for practically a year. They hadn’t needed to spend time getting to know each other, or feel each other out.

Don’t overthink this, bitch.

No, he had no regrets.

Alex’s reveal the night before had been a bit—well, more than a bit—of a surprise. Achilles had sat on the information some, long after Alex had fallen asleep, pondering the potential ramifications of Alex’s asexuality. Now Achilles hadn’t lied—disappointed, he was not—but he had always had an average enough libido (at least, before the antidepressants), and he’d be lying if he said the news hadn’t somewhat caught him off guard.

But that didn’t necessarily believe this made the two of them incompatible. Of that, Achilles was sure. Yes. He would be fine to wait—more than fine to take it slow. He would compromise, and perhaps there were things Alex would be willing to compromise on, too. They would talk more—what was Alex comfortable with, what would be enough for Achilles. Better define their limits, their wants, their needs. Communication, the foundation of every good relationship, right? And they’d always conversed well. Yes, this would be fine. Better than fine.

Yoba, to even just touch him again, let alone kiss him. Both were enough for Achilles, and both Alex was more than eager to provide. Yes, he had no regrets. The memory of their dinner last night alone was enough to set a permanent smile on his face.

He allowed himself an hour to digest both his thoughts and what had probably been the best breakfast he’d had since moving to the Valley before indeed going for a jog. But if he’d hoped the biting cold would clear his mind from the man at hand (you lovesick goon, you’ve got other things to worry about right now) he was sorely disappointed, for with every pound of his footsteps against the familiar beaten path through Cindersap, Achilles was brought back to the previous season, when he and Alex would run side by side.

How had this happened? Truly—what were the chances that Alex, of all people, could have ever fallen in love with him?

Speaking of which… in love! Those were the words Alex had used—and multiple times, at that. Perhaps Alex simply didn’t place the same weight to them as Achilles did, but even so, the thought thawed his wind beaten face with overwhelming warmth.

Don’t get ahead of yourself…

It was a shorter run but a longer shower than usual. After it became clear he wasn’t going to be able to think of anything else on the trail, he returned home after half an hour to sit in a cloud of lavender-scented steam for twice as long as his run had been.

The bath seemed to have done the trick, though Alex was, of course, still lingering in his mind. The sight of the toothbrush Alex had borrowed sitting by the sink brought a small smile to his lips. But when he emerged from the bathroom, it was with a renewed sense of peace and focus that he hadn’t felt in many a week.

Good. After all, he had business to attend to!

*****

There was almost an hour to go before doors officially opened, but even so, Achilles found himself scurrying about the museum in his usual impatient way—arranging flowers, moving lamps, straightening the thirty chairs he’d had Gunther arrange ahead of time.

He hoped thirty hadn’t been too generous an estimation. Surely most of the Stardew community would come out, even if it were more out of curiosity surrounding Elliott’s long-time-coming novel than genuine support for the writer.

Achilles hadn’t had much to time to advertise, especially with the snowstorm. But he had made sure all villagers were aware at least, and had reached out to some local publishing contacts and had taken out a last minute ad in the local daily paper, promising a book reading and refreshments. Alex, bless his heart, had been more than happy to drop off some flyers at the Zuzu bookstores and coffee shops to help spread the word beyond.

Taking a page out of Lewis’ festival book (though the thought made him shudder), he had pushed over one of the longer tables at the back of the library and draped it in a sapphire blue tablecloth. Emily was now helping him carefully lay out the catering he had ordered from the Stardrop Saloon earlier that day.

He’d even managed to put together a little silent auction to benefit the museum—a couple pieces of art from Leah, a few of Gus’ homemade jams, some of Shane’s goat cheese. Haley was even offering up an hour long portrait session (though Achilles highly suspected Alex had perhaps manhandled her into it). The items had been lain neatly out across another table he’d pushed in between two bookshelves. Hopefully it wasn’t a fire hazard.

Make the space cozier, he had thought to himself earlier when he’d been transforming the wide, labyrinthine space into something a little more intimate. Close the gaps, move the desks, bring up the bean bags. If only he could move the fireplace closer. Gunther, in addition to donating a few rare hardbacks, as well as a peculiar chicken statue, to the silent auction, had pretty much given him free reign to rearrange the room.

He better, after all I’ve done do liven this place up. Barely even had a book a year ago…

Not so anymore. Since Summer, the shelves had been heavy with the community’s surveyed selections and more. It had cost him quite a pretty penny (damn Lewis, where the hell were the tax dollars going?), but Achilles had no regrets.

Amidst all his scurrying, Achilles allowed himself a minute to pause, weaving through the bookshelves to sidle up to Elliott, who had hidden himself away in the far corner of the adjoining room. The man, an unusually morose expression on his long face, looked without seeing through the darkened windows at the fresh flurries fluttering down outside.

“How are you feeling?”

“Oh…” Elliott declined the crab cake Achilles was offering with a wriggle of his fingers before burying his head in his hands, his mane of auburn hair slipping from behind his shoulder to conceal a pale face. “Sick.”

“Oh.” No lengthy metaphors? No waxing poetic? Yikes. Elliott really must be feeling bad.

“It’ll be great, man. You’ll be great.” Achilles patted him on the back, adding a bit of extra oomph in his tap against the burgundy velvet of Elliott’s sports jacket for reassurance. But the writer only turned an impressive shade of pea green.

*****

Shane had been the first to arrive, to Achilles’ surprise. He had slinked in near noiselessly, and was halfway down the refreshments table, paper plate stacked with three hefty crab cakes and a poppyseed muffin, before Achilles, who’d been jotting his name down to bid for the portrait session (knowing it’d drive Haley insane) noticed his presence.

“Shane! How are you doing, glad you could make it.”

“Mmph.” Shane poked a pudgy finger at the three sprigs of dandelion salad on his plate. “Couldn’t have ordered pizza?”

“Sure. Right…”

Leah joined soon after, followed by Penny, then Willy the fisherman, and Gil and Marlon. A bit of an odd group, those early birds, but Achilles had provided a spiked option for the hot chocolate, and all were soon mixing and mingling with relative ease.

At a quarter to 6, Alex arrived with his grandparents. Evelyn greeted him with what was, to the discerning eye, perhaps an overly warm embrace, but George, Achilles noticed, refused to even acknowledge his presence, moving almost immediately away to take a seat in the last row after ignoring the bookmark Achilles had been offering him.

He and Alex had discussed the matter briefly during dinner the night before—Alex had said there wasn’t much to share, really; it was plain and simple, exactly what Achilles would’ve expected. George wasn’t pleased. And that was that.

“But it’s my life, right?” Alex had said with a wan smile. “He’s not really… talking to me right now, but Grandma says he’ll… come around…”

How long that’d take, who knew. But at least Evelyn was on his side, Alex had said—and, of course, Achilles.

Still, likely overly conscious of George’s glare, they didn’t touch—not even the side-hug that was Alex’s usual way of saying hello for just about anyone. But Alex did greet him with an enthusiastic, double-handed wave after Evelyn had finishing squeezing Achilles within an inch of suffocation.

“Hi!”

Achilles unconsciously smoothed the front of his cardigan. “Hey.”

“Nice shirt.” Alex nodded at the tiny trains dotting Achilles’ button down before flicking a piece of dust off of his shoulder. A far from intimate touch—really, barely a touch at all—but it nevertheless kicked off a prickling ripple down Achilles’ arms. He could get used to this. “I’ve always wondered, do you just, like, already own these or do you buy them specifically for whatever event is going on?”

“Eh, a little bit of both… I did already own this one, though I can’t actually remember why…”

An obnoxiously loud cackle announced Abigail, Sebastian, and Sam’s arrival. It seemed like they had brought friends from the city, traipsing in with two other strangers who all made their way immediately to the refreshments table.

“Gonna be a full house, Ell!” he heard Leah exclaim from behind the bookshelves. “Better not fuck this up, eh!” The exclamation was followed by a lengthy, low, almost melodious, wail.

Well, at least the melodrama had returned. That had to be a positive sign, right?

Alex and Achilles shared a look, the former stifling his laughter behind a cup of hot chocolate. As more and more guests continued to stream through the doors, he gave Achilles’ shoulder a little squeeze before joining Penny by the bean bags, leaving Achilles to play the role of host undistracted.

“Congratulations.”

“Pardon?”

Achilles turned from greeting Maru and Dr. Harvey, fresh from the clinic, to see Shane emerging from behind another bookshelf with an empty plate and a cup full of hot tea.

“You and him.” The man gave a jerky nod in Alex’s general direction. “Right?”

It wasn’t often Achilles was caught off guard, but Shane? Of all people?

“I—you—”

But Shane only grunted, offering up a shrug before plodding away to join Marnie and Jas who had just arrived.

By 6:25, there were well over 30 guests milling about the museum. Mostly townsfolk, as to be expected, but a sizable group of folks Achilles didn’t recognize had made it out to Stardew as well.

He made his over way to the podium.

“Hi everyone. We’re going to get started in about five minutes, if you could please make your way to your seats soon, that would be wonderful.”

*****

“Good evening everyone. Thank you all so much for coming out, we are so excited to welcome all of you to Stardew Valley’s Museum & Library.”

Achilles looked out at the small crowd of painstakingly straightened chairs. A good turnout, he thought to himself. 39 people, he’d been keeping count.

He was back at the podium after taking the final few minutes to close the silent auction (he’d been outbid by a “Zachary Grace“ for Haley’s portrait package, unfortunately) and secure a last minute snickerdoodle cookie for himself.

He had never found himself to be good at comforting others, and so was grateful to find Leah had committed herself to hyping up Elliott (though it could be debated whether she was any better than him at the task)—and though Achilles could still make out standing next to him a set of slightly wobbling knees, the writer had at least returned to his usual complexion.

“Now, it’s my pleasure to introduce to you tonight’s author, and one of my dearest friends, Elliott St. Laurent, who will be reading the first chapter from what will surely be a bestselling, debut novel, Camellia Station.”

He stepped to the side and, sneaking in what he hoped was a small, encouraging wink, gestured for Elliott to take the stage as a round of healthy applause rang through the room.

Elliott gripped the sides of the podium tight, perhaps in an effort to stem his shaking, the knuckles of his large hands white with the effort. A handful of deep breaths. A second to clear his throat. And then…

*****

“Ever since I was a young boy, I dreamt of becoming a writer.

“When the time came for me to leave home and start my own life, I moved here. I was drawn to the peaceful beauty of the valley, and hoped that days of quiet reflection in this idyllic atmosphere would fan the literary flames.

“And indeed they did! As I’m sure many of my fellow villagers would attest, it took perhaps quite a few more days than I had initially anticipated for the aforementioned literary flames to wholly ignite—“ he paused for the townsfolk to laugh politely. “ —but I am proud to share that, after many a year, I stand before you now with my completed novel in hand.

“But it would be the gravest error not to acknowledge two names, for I could never have completed this endeavor without the support and guidance of my dearest of friends—Miss Leah Connolly and, of course, Achilles Robinson, who you all surely know is a bestselling author himself!”

Achilles, who had joined Leah in a seat by the side of the room, received the applause politely, giving a small, lazy bow of his head before skillfully turning the attention back to Elliott, who, with each sentence, had quickly grown in confidence.

“And so, after countless hours scribbling at my writing desk, I now present to you my first book, Camellia Station: a romance novel about a train stewardess who falls in love with a traveling architect.”

He cleared his throat once more, and then began the reading.

“Chapter One.

“‘Your ticket, sir?’ Ticket collector Gozman extended a gloved hand towards the young commuter.

“‘Ah, yes. I have it right here,’ he replied, reaching into his coat pocket. Mortified, he discovered that the ticket was missing…”

Achilles, obviously familiar with the story, leaned back in his chair and sipped his hot chocolate. The most stressful part of the evening was over. Elliott had made it through to the reading alive, all the chairs—and then some—were filled, the refreshments had been warmly received by all except maybe Shane, and the silent auction had been a smashing success. Nice.

He found himself only half-listening to Elliott’s crooning tenor. Not because he was bored—no, he was very much proud of his friend and had genuinely admired the tomb of a novel—but he had only just finished reading it scarcely a week ago, and steamy romances and wicked love triangles had never quite captured his attention the same way genre did—funny, really, given how he’d been unable to stop replaying his own little romance in his head since this morning.

His fingers flexed at the memories, curled tighter around his paper cup.

But despite his drifting thoughts, he made sure to maintain both a smile and eye contact over the next half hour, just in case Elliott happened to glance over—though at the moment, the writer seemed a little too enthusiastically engrossed with the task at hand. Though his voice remained strong and strident, Elliott’s nose remained scarcely three inches from the page.

“‘…Clara, there’s something I must tell you,’ he blurted as she turned to leave. Clara turned, slowly, and saw the look of desperation in Horatio’s eye. At that moment, Gozman burst into the compartment, red-faced.”

After a solemn pause, Elliott closed the manuscript rather abruptly, though the applause drowned out the brusque snap of the pages.

“Well, that concludes my reading. Thank you everyone for coming out. Let us hope that we see Camellia Station on a bookshelf in Zuzu City within the next few years!”

And though it was Achilles who led the standing ovation, the sight of the enthusiastic, thirty some crowd clapping away for his friend seemed to be contaminating his pride for Elliott with something akin to… envy.

This could’ve been you.

But he felt Leah’s hand on his shoulder, and her simple touch was enough this time to pull him back to shore.

*****

“I have dedicated the book to you two, my dearest friends.” As the audience slowly dispersed, Elliott made his way over to where Achilles and Leah had been sitting in the corner.

He took each of their hands in his. “Without your support and encouragement this past year, who knows if Camellia Station would have ever… shall we say, left the station.” He solemnly placed a hand over his heart and gave them each a deep bow.

“We’re very proud of you,” Achilles said before Leah could swoop in with what he imagined would be a sarcastic comment of the highest degree. Let’s not lead with that. “Your reading was fantastic—you should record your own audiobook.”

Elliott turned red, patting Achilles’ hand as he shook his head modestly. “Oh my, you do honor me, my friend—let us not get ahead of ourselves…”

“Stop talking to us,” Leah hissed in a carrying whisper. She tilted her head at a handful of admirers who were beginning to congregate by the podium, each tossing the occasional impatient glance at the huddled trio. She proceeded to give the writer a hearty shove with her shoulder. “Go mingle with your new fans. Could be an agent in there somewhere! Schmooze!”

“Oh ho!” Elliott’s eyes gleamed as he snuck a covert peek at a particular suited stranger. He straightened his tie and stood confidently to his full, looming height—the well-received reading had clearly renewed his sense of vigor. “Then I shall pay them a visit posthaste—but oh ho, I believe there’s someone waiting to speak with you, as well, my dear friend.” Elliott ended his declaration with a devilish wink, nodding to something behind Achilles before striding over to the small waiting crowd of well-wishers.

Achilles turned to see Alex waiting patiently alone, munching thoughtfully on a small stack of finger sandwiches by the first row of seats.

Leah grunted. Less eloquent than Elliott, she merely smacked Achilles’ ass before leaving him for the refreshments table. “Go get that boy of yours.”

Achilles hadn’t had a chance to update either of his friends about his recent developments, and yet even so, Leah hadn’t bothered keeping her voice down. Alex perked up upon hearing her quip and, after shoving the remaining three sandwiches rather inelegantly into his mouth (now don’t you go there, Achilles, don’t you think about that), brushed the crumbs off his hands and jumped to his feet.

“Am I 'that boy of yours?'”

Dear lord, was Alex batting his eyelashes?

This man…

He could feel himself blushing at Alex’s hypnotizing, long-lashed gaze. But refusing to further indulge this roguish little show, Achilles lightly shoved his laughing figure aside and turned away to nod at Shane who was seemingly attempting to surreptitiously pocket the remaining crab cakes.

“No, she was talking about Shane.”

“Oh yeah? Does Shane he's ya boy—”

“Want to help me pack up the food? You can take the rest of the sandwiches if you’d like.”

#llnks #stardew valley fic #stardew fanfic #stardew alex #stardew elliott #stardew oc #sdv alex #sdv elliott #sdv leah #sdv oc

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novacorpsrecruit · 9 months

Text

You and Me (in the center of the apocalypse) on Ao3

─── ⋆⋅chapter 3 posted!!⋅⋆ ──

“Hey.”

Eddie turned his head to the edge of the trailer’s roof. A box held up, just barely above the metal shingle.

“Can you help me?” Steve’s voice called from below. He gave the box a gentle wiggle to emphasize the assistance needed. Eddie let out a laugh.

“I guess so.” He pushed himself off the blanket laid out on the roof and half hustled over to the box. He took it from Steve’s hands, looking at the picnic spread Steve had set aside for them. Two MREs disassembled with the main dishes boiled hot, a bag of chips, a half pack of beer and Twinkies. Eddie took a step back, watching as Steve push himself up onto the roof. Eddie watched in awe as Steve’s shoulders tighten, as he literally pushed himself up, his arms straighten as he kicked his leg up over the ledge.

Maybe it was the athleticism preformed by the former King of Hawkins. Or maybe it was Eddie’s tight Black Sabbath shirt that showed off his muscles. Either way, it made something deep inside of Eddie growl, ‘MINE.’

Steve grinned as he caught Eddie’s stare. He threw Eddie a quick wink as he took the box from his hands.

“C’mon, Ed,” Steve said. “Picnic’s not gonna unpack itself.”

Eddie let out a soft laugh as he jogged over to Steve and the picnic blanket. He playfully hopped down on the blanket, instantly going for the beer. Not even 48 hours ago, Eddie was fighting a fever. 24 hours, he found the pain Steve has been hiding. And now, they’re climbing on top of the trailer roof to watch the clearing skies of the Upside Down. If they fooled themselves, the constant ash in the distance could be mistaken as stars.

“Alright,” Steve clapped his hands, rubbing them together as they were about to have a feast. “From the five star Michelin restaurant, we have diced turkey with gravy and diced beef with gravy. The chef’s personal recommendations.”

“Oh the chef?” Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “And it paired well with Pabst?”

“He said only the best,” Steve said. “On the house. Which one do you want?”

“Beef,” Eddie said, extending his reach towards Steve, accepting the prepared MRE. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a good ribeye.”

“Yeah,” Steve let out a soft laugh. “Ribeye.”

“Is that jealousy I hear?” Eddie asked, a playful smirk across his face. “You just wish you ordered the rib-eye instead of the duck —“

“Excuse you,” Steve laughed. “This is duck a l’orange. The finest French dish on the menu.”

“Oh, my bad,” Eddie laughed, opening the package. The content’s aroma went straight to his nose. “Holy shit this actually smells good. It uh — kind of reminds me of my uncle’s Salisbury steak. He would add a can of cream of mushroom soup to the brown gravy mix and serve it over instant mash. God, I —“ Eddie let out an exhale. “I miss him.”

“I can’t wait to try it,” Steve said.

“Try what?”

“Your uncle’s Salisbury steak,” Steve said, opening his MRE. “You’ll ask him to make it for us, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “I think he’d like you.”

“Yeah?”

“The guy who practically nursed me back to health?” Eddie shot Steve a grin. “Yeah, he’d love you.”

“Good. If not, I was prepared to use my Harrington charm on him,” Steve wiggled his eyebrows before turning his attention on his meal. He took a hesitant bite before shooting Eddie a thumbs up. “Best duck I’ve ever had.”

Eddie laughed, not convinced. He took a bite of his diced beef and — well, it wasn’t the worst thing he ever had. But it definitely made him miss Wayne’s cooking. Wayne was a professional at dolling up meals, making cheap meals taste better and more filling. How he’d kill for some of Wayne’s flapjacks and fried eggs. “Yeah,” Eddie swallowed his food, then flashed a grin. “Cow’s still bleeding. Can’t get this anywhere else.”

There were a few moments that passed where they just ate and drank, their shoulders pressed together like it meant nothing and their entire world all at the same time.

“What about your parents?” Eddie spoke up.

“What about them?”

“Do you think they would like me?” Eddie asked. “I know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, but you think I’d grow on them?”

“Uh — not to disappoint but I don’t think they would care,” Steve said with a shrug. “Don’t take that in a bad way —“

“Kind of hard not to,” Eddie said with a laugh. Eddie doesn’t think he could lie if Steve asked him if that hurt. Eddie’s not sure if he’s capable of lying to Steve anymore.

“I just meant — I don’t think they know I’m missing.”

“… What?”

“I don’t think they know,” Steve said. “And I don’t think they care.”

“Steve, we’ve been stuck for —“

“I know how long we’ve been stuck for Eddie,” Steve snapped. “I’ve been counting the days. They wouldn’t care.”

“Fuck your parents, man,” Eddie said. “They don’t deserve you.” Eddie’s heart ached as Steve’s words sunk in. They wouldn’t care. Eddie broke the silence, “What’s their names?”

“What?”

“What’s their names?” Eddie repeated. “Your old man and woman. Sperm and egg donors. Their names?”

“Richard and Sharon,” Steve supplied.

Eddie hopped onto his feet, shuffling the MRE to one hand and cupped the other around his mouth as he shouted to the edge of town: “FUCK YOU RICHARD AND SHARON!”

“Eddie!”

“C’mon!” Eddie begged, reaching down and gently tugging on Steve’s arm. “You can’t tell me that you never wanted to do that!”

Steve let out a laugh, allowing himself to be pulled up and into Eddie’s side. “Eddie, this is so stupid.”

“It’s therapeutic,” Eddie said, wrapping his free arm around Steve’s waist. “C’mon. Try it!”

“FUCK YOU RICHARD HARRINGTON!” Steve screamed.

“FUCK YOU DICK!” Eddie yelled.

“YOU’RE A FUCKING BITCH, SHARON!”

“BURN IN HELL, RICKY!”

“Ricky?” Steve asked, turning to face Eddie.

“My dad,” Eddie said. “He’s a real piece of shit.”

“EAT SHIT, RICKY!”

Eddie let out a deep laugh. “Felt good, didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed. He brought his hand up to cup Eddie’s face, his thumb gently rubbing over the scarring on his cheek. “It really did.”

Every nerve in Eddie’s body begged him to lean forward to kiss Steve. He wanted to. He needed to.

(Read more on Ao3 mind the tags)

#steddie #steve harrington #Eddie Munson #stranger things #steddie fic #I feel like there was a baby boom of Richard’s so I headcanon Harrington Munson and Buckley are all Richard’s #just like every man around 40-50 I meet at work’s name is Shawn/sean #//myfic

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bokuroskitten · 2 years

Text

᯽⸱៰ ͘ ࣭⸰ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ Nothing’s gunna hurt you, baby.

Ken “Draken” Ryuuguji x reader.

W. Hurt/Comfort piece dealing with real emotions, mentions of assault, mentions of a bad home life (all implied never explicitly stated.), mentions of restricted eating.

I don’t know how to vent properly but I do know how to write. Kinda. Anyway. Take this vent. Please read the warnings the implied subject matter is heavy and may be triggering. I won’t be tagging this either, its really just meant to be a vent and nothing more. Ily guys, I hope everyone is doing well. Staying hydrated. <3

“Can I come over?”

The text woke Draken up at 1:14 am. He had his phone off silent for a reason, had a feeling that you’d be calling or texting him to escape. Rubbing a hand over his eye his other hand typed away on his phone, already pulling himself out of bed.

“Yea. I’ll come get you?”

“It’s okay, I’m already on the way.”

That made him frown. It was bad enough that you couldn’t wait for a ride from him. He didn’t like when you made your way over by yourself, especially at this hour, but he felt a bit of relief as soon as another text dropped in the text chat. A pin with your location, so he knows just where you’d be at all times.

“See you soon.”

That was the last text he sent. He was pulling on a pair of sweatpants and pulled his black hair into a messy bun as he slipped on a pair of slippers. He scratched at his abdomen, lighting a few candles that he knew were your favourite in the living room so it wasn’t so dark. He kept the blinds drawn, the city lights too bright and too luminescent even at this time of night. He already started cooking up food he knew you considered to be comfort food, cutting up some green onion and boiling a broth.

He kept an eye on that little pin, all the way until it reached his apartment complex. He made sure water had been set out for you, the blanket you usually used when you came over spread out on the couch.

He opened the door almost as soon as he received the “here” text from you.

You looked exhausted, one of his sweaters already on, a pair of long shorts, hair a bit tousled. You had a duffle bag over your shoulder.

You were going to stay here a couple of days.

“Hi.” You murmur, and it took him pulling you into his chest for you to finally relax, shoulders slumping enough that your bag slipped from your hold, head finding that familiar comfortable spot on his chest.

“Hi, lil love.” He speaks back, voice low, gentle. He can tell that you want to cry. Need to actually. Your shoulders are trembling, there are goosebumps on your back. Your breathing is uneven.

It kills him. it kills him so badly that you feel this way. Have to go through what you do at home. Have to relive the moments that made you want to not wanna live anymore.

One day he was going to take it all away, but until then, he’d keep you here, safe, for as long as he could.

“C’mere.”

His hands grip the back of your thighs, and he easily scoops you up into his grasp. Your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, as well as your arms, that loop tightly around his shoulders. He holds you close, lips pressed into the crown of your head as he slowly walks the two of you into the kitchen. He lets you cling to him as long as you’d like, face finding the safe spot that is the crook of his neck. His familiar scent puts you at ease despite your tears, as well as the feeling of his hair as your play with it, running the strands between your fingers. All the while he finished up the ramen he had started before you got there, brows knitted in consternation as he boiled the noodles along with the eggs.

He made you two, knew it was your favourite part.

He only made you sit on the counter when he needed to drain the noodles, and even then, he stayed close. Pressed a kiss to your cheek, right under your eye, on your forehead whenever he heard you sniffle to yourself or wiped at your eyes. Your hand stayed glued to his shirt, gripping at the hem.

You didn’t want to let him go, and he’d never make you.

He eased you off the counter before handing you the steaming bowl of ramen. It was covered in Hello Kitty, with vibrant blues, greens and yellows covering the ceramic surface. He bought it once he discovered just how much ramen you could eat.

“Careful, it’s hot.” He murmurs, and you nod, voice still seeming to be lost. For Draken, that was okay. He knew when things like this happened, that you weren’t much of a talker. Not right away anyway, so he didn’t push. He wrapped his free arm around you to walk you back into the living room, taking a seat on the couch. Once his back was up against the armrest he pulled you between his thighs, made sure you were comfy and your food was balanced properly on a pillow before he took his eyes away from you, flicking through Netflix to put something mindless on.

The sounds of the sitcom filled the apartment, along with your soft slurping, the subtle crackles the candles made from burning for so long. Draken sighed softly through his nose, one hand drawing patterns along the expanse of your thigh absentmindedly. He only really came back into focus when he noticed you had stopped eating so soon, cheek pressing back into his chest, going so far as to leave an egg behind.

Musta been a really hard day. He knew it would be, wished he coulda been there to help ease you.

“It's not good?” Draken tried to joke, his smile soft as he pushed some hair away from your face so he could get a better look at you. He can tell you try to return it with a smile of your own. But he knew. It didn’t hold the same shine your smile, no matter the size, always had. “It's good…”

“Have a little more?” He questions, and you shrug. Draken is forever patient, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. “Have you eaten today?”

You shake your head this time, voice lost again due to the trembling of your lower lip. He lets out a soft coo, a comforting sound that's pressed into your hair as he eases your hands away from the chopsticks, and picks them up instead. He holds the bowl a little closer to your face in his free hand, doing the work for you. “C’mon, open. Eat a little more.”

You’re reluctant, only a few moments before you eat what's being held to you. And it continues just like that. Draken feeds you small bits at a time, while his palm smooths from your thigh to your tummy, pulling you even closer to him. He has you eat the other egg, his smile coming back a little when you hum at the taste and most of the noodles before he lets the chopsticks rest in the leftover broth.

“Good…” You relax into him further at the rumble in his voice. “Good girl, you needed to eat.” You nod again and allow your body to curl into him, face smooshing up against his peck. He lets you get cozy, his arm long enough that he can slide the bowl onto the coffee table without disturbing you. He brings the blanket over you, watching how it swallows you up, as you nuzzle him like you’re trying to hide.

There's that clench in his heart again.

His arms are around you firmly, one hand pressed to the back of your head, cradling it into your favourite spot. He keeps his lips pressed to your forehead, squeezing you just a little tighter when you start to shake again, the whispered whine making his brows furrow.

“It's okay baby, you’re okay. You’re safe with me.”

He could tell you were holding in the sob you released as soon as he spoke those words. It ripped from your chest, made your whole frame shudder against him. He shushed you, his own eyes squeezed shut as he caressed you.

“I hate him, Ken… and I hate them, I hate myself— I hate feeling this way… I hate—“

“I know, I hate him too. But not them, or you. Never you baby.

His grip didn’t ease, even as you sobbed into his skin, when as your nails gently dug into him. He stayed firm, grounded for you. Always for you, anything for you.

He wasn’t sure how long it had taken, but finally, your cries had subsided. Your eyes were puffy, your nose stuffed when you started to find yourself dozing. Draken took that as his cue to lean towards the coffee table, and blow out the candles that were already dwindling. Keeping your head cradled in his palm and the blanket wrapped around you, he scooped you up.

It was times like this he was reminded just how small you were, curled up in his embrace, clinging to him weakly. It only had him holding you tighter. He knew better than anyone what it felt like growing up in a home that felt unsafe, unsure, unstable. He had seen what happened to the girls when someone had been a little too rough with them. They never did seem to go back to their normal selves after moments like that. He didn’t wish upon anyone, especially you.

So, he’d be the person he needed as a child, for you, now and always.

The clock on his bedside table read 4:03 am, not that he was paying attention. He was grateful that when he settled in bed you barely stirred, your body already going heavy, limp from exhaustion. He kept you held against his chest even as he tucked you both in.

He wouldn’t ease. Wouldn’t let you go.

“I love you, Ken.” He huffed, his lips turning into a little smile and his heart fluttering behind his ribcage. Your words were sluggish, slurred, murmured in between the land of the living and dreamworld. He placed a final kiss on your forehead before his chin found purchase on the top of your head.

He’d be a home for you, one day. You were already his.

“I love you too, Lil love.”

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