#we need some more pancake mix on aisle five

[cookinguptales]

RYAN????? SEACREST????????

[hockeylvr59]

Secret Love Part 4 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: 

Warnings: cursing, discussion of sexual activities

Word Count: 3,911

~~~~

You’d tossed and turned for almost an hour before you had eventually drifted off to sleep, only to be awoken by the Denver sunrise spilling through the window. Groaning softly you made a mental note for the shopping trip...curtains...Cale definitely needed curtains. Laying on the couch, you played on your phone for a few minutes before the need to use the bathroom finally took over. 

After knocking quietly on Cale’s door with no response, you cracked it open hoping to sneak through to the bathroom without disturbing him. As you tiptoed across his bedroom floor, you couldn’t help but let your eyes fall on him. As expected, he was shirtless, blankets falling only midway up his exposed chest. His hair was a mess, and a relaxed expression covered his face. Quietly closing the bathroom door behind you, you chastised yourself for the heat that flooded through you. You were just friends and despite his now single status, that was all this was ever going to be. 

Relieving yourself, you then quickly brushed your teeth before quietly moving back to the living room, easing his door shut behind you. His parents were going to be here in about an hour and after starting a pot of coffee you examined the contents of Cale’s fridge and cabinets. Finding bacon, eggs, and pancake mix you decided to make everyone breakfast. It was as you were moving around the kitchen that Cale finally appeared, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“You’re making breakfast?” He murmured, leaning in to kiss the top of your head. 

“I am…” You smiled, checking on the bacon in the oven as you scrambled eggs in a pan on the stove. Cale poured himself a cup of coffee and you felt his eyes on you once more. 

“Anything I can do?” He questioned after a moment. 

“Get some plates?” You requested. “How do you want your eggs?” The clatter of plates filled your ears for a moment as Cale set plates beside you. 

“However you’re making them is perfect.” He insisted, sharing a warm grin now that he was a little bit more awake. Nodding you took one of the plates and scooped a hefty portion of eggs onto it before pulling the bacon from the oven and the pancakes from where they were keeping warm in the microwave and piling those onto the plate as well. 

“Eat up.” You grinned, turning to place the plate in front of one of the bar stools at the island. Doing another batch of eggs quickly you set everything aside to keep warm before serving yourself a much smaller portion. Taking a seat beside him, you shook your head as you watched Cale continue to dig into his breakfast. The moment felt a little too domestic and natural so you were thankful when there was a knock at the door that signaled that Laura and Gary had arrived. 

It wasn’t long after that before you were quickly getting ready and heading out with Laura to go shopping for things for Cale’s apartment. The first place you stopped was Starbucks and then you were off to a local shopping center to do some damage. 

“You seem more relaxed…” Laura mentioned as she sat waiting for the light to turn green. 

“Yeah uh...we talked after dinner last night. We’re good.” You shrugged. Yes you were close with Laura, but you really didn’t want to tell her the details of your friendship with her son. She seemed to accept that because she nodded and smiled. 

“Good. I’m glad.” Her response ended the subject and instead she focused on the task ahead. “So you’ve spent a decent amount of time in Cale’s apartment...what does he still need other than what he mentioned to me?” 

“Well curtains would be good. Waking up to the sun isn’t always ideal.” You said, a yawn slipping from your throat. “He could also use a throw blanket for the couch.” You added, pondering over what comforts Cale’s apartment seemed to be missing that would make it feel more like a home. 

Wandering through aisles, Laura did most of the shopping, occasionally asking for your thoughts on something before either tossing it into the cart or putting it back on the shelf. As you walked through the aisle containing photo frames you paused. 

“What do you think about surprising him with some pictures?” You suggested. He had a couple pieces of ‘artwork’ but there really weren’t any family photos to be found as far as you could see. 

“Why don’t you take the reins on that?” Laura replied, a soft look you couldn’t place filling her eyes as she handed you her phone. “Text yourself anything from my camera roll.” As she looked through possible throw pillows, you quickly scanned through the pictures, texting yourself a half dozen that would be perfect. Agreeing to meet up in about fifteen minutes, you headed back to the instant photo machine, plugging your phone in to print the pictures from Laura’s gallery as well as a couple from your own. Satisfied with what you had, you moved back to the frames, picking out one for each photo before moving to find some command strips to hang them with. 

On the car ride back to Cale’s place, you worked to get each photo into a frame. By the time Laura pulled back into the garage you were finished and you helped her carry all of the shopping bags inside. Cale had given his mom the spare key in case the two of you were done before he got back and after letting yourselves inside, you went to work on making Cale’s apartment feel just a little cozier. Together you hung curtains up in his living room, tossing pillows and the sherpa throw onto the couch. Then Laura helped you with hanging photos on his bedroom wall while a few of them were placed stationary on a side table in his living room. Laura unpacked the rest of the things Cale had asked her to buy and then the two of you settled onto the couch to watch tv until the guys arrived. 

Gary and Cale had picked up lunch on the way home, so the four of you sat down to eat. When you finished, Cale handed you a gift bag and though you had a feeling you knew what it was, you were still anxious to open it. Navy fabric accented with maroon and white spilled around your fingers and you gently ran your fingers over the number 8 and lettering of the nameplate. 

“Can’t have you come to the game tonight without proper apparel.” Cale murmured and you jumped up quickly, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. 

“It’s perfect.” You agreed. You’d packed the Makar home jersey that you’d bought yourself at the beginning of the season, but you had to admit the thirds were your favorite jersey and getting the jersey from Cale meant just a little bit more than buying one for yourself. 

As you cleaned up lunch, Cale started to settle in, getting ready to take his pregame nap. He had acknowledged the curtains, blanket, pillows and other things his mom had gotten him but it wasn’t until he disappeared into his bedroom for a moment that his eyes must have caught the photos. He’d only been gone maybe 30 seconds when he returned, pulling his mom into a huge hug, his eyes soft. 

“You framed pictures for me?” He muttered softly. 

“That idea was all Y/N.” Laura quickly clarified and immediately Cale turned to you, his arms wrapping around you just as tightly. 

“That’s incredible. Thank you.” He whispered into your ear, and when he pulled back his hands lingered on your hips for a moment more. 

Soon you were grabbing everything you’d need for the game because you were headed with Laura and Gary to play tourist while Cale napped and then headed to the rink. Laura and Gary had already headed downstairs while you debated on a shirt to wear and you didn’t even notice Cale come up beside you as you dug through your bag. 

“Wear that one.” He instructed, pointing to a wine red long-sleeved off-the-shoulder blouse. “We’re going out after the game if we win.” He clarified, rubbing the back of his neck. You were already wearing your favorite pair of jeans and had thrown on a cute pair of tennis shoes for running around. You weren’t exactly a club type of person but going out with Cale and his teammates did seem fun. 

“Okay.” You agreed, disappearing into his bathroom to change tops before returning. “Have a good nap. And kick some ass tonight.” You teased, grabbing your makeup bag because you’d barely put any on to go shopping and if you were going out tonight you were going to need to rethink your current makeup. With everything you needed, you snuck a kiss to Cale’s cheek before disappearing out the door to meet Gary and Laura down at the car. 

____

The last time you saw Cale play live was versus Calgary during the playoffs. So sitting in the stands of the Pepsi Center watching him warm up was an entirely different experience. You’d watched him on tv many times but in person it was clear to see just how much his game was growing every day. He was almost mesmerizing to watch and tucked in next to Laura, wrapped in his jersey, you felt at peace. Well, at least until the puck dropped for real. 

During a commercial break in the first period, the Avs announced a promo game. After the participant was introduced and the game was explained, a baby picture popped up on the screen. In it, a little boy, no more than 9 or 10 months old, sat between the legs of a little girl around the age of five who had a book in her hands. Immediately your own cheeks flushed as you recognized the picture, it was one of your favorites from when you and Cale were super little. The fan playing got one guess of who it was with no options to win an autographed jersey, but they were way off and guessed Nate for some reason. Then multiple choice popped up with Cale’s name, JT’s, and Gabe for a chance at an autographed puck. You didn’t even pay attention to the guess beyond hearing the boos signaling they got it wrong, but instead your gaze landed on Cale who was looking up at the screen, hiding a smile as he took some ribbing by his teammates. Eventually his eyes drifted up to where you were seated and he sent a little wink that you would have missed if you weren’t looking at him. From beside you Laura just smiled and bumped your shoulder, signaling without words just how strong your friendship with Cale really was. 

The Avs played a solid all around game and you cheered with each goal scored. Cale had two assists on the night and with the team coming out with the win you knew he was going to be in a good mood. Heading down to the locker room, you listened as Gary rambled on about the game as hockey dads do while sharing looks with Laura that made you burst into laughter. 

When Cale finally stepped out of the locker room he hugged his parents before lifting you up and spinning you around. 

“You ready to go have some fun?” He inquired, boyish smile on his face. 

“Don’t get into too much trouble.” Laura warned, though her expression wasn’t all that serious. 

“As if I’d let him.” You joked. For years Cale’s family had the running joke of you being the more responsible one keeping Cale in line. It wasn’t always true obviously, but for the most part the point stood. Still after the past few weeks Cale had had, you were willing to let him go just a little bit crazy tonight, knowing that you would be there as his safety net. 

“We’ll see you both tomorrow.” Gary grinned. “Go relax and have a good time.” Cale’s arm drifted around your waist as he tugged you to his car. Once there, you stripped off the jersey leaving you in just the blouse and as he pulled out of the garage you mussed up your hair just a little bit. Using the mirror, you carefully added a little more eyeliner before throwing on a dark lipstick, tossing both cylinders into the cupholder beside you. 

By the time you stepped out of the car at the club you felt ready for a night out and as you watched Cale shed his jacket, you felt his eyes on you once more. 

Waiting for him to be ready to head inside, you watched as a tall redhead approached, beautiful woman tucked into his side. 

“Y/N...this is JT and his girlfriend Lauren.” Cale introduced and you reached a hand out to shake theirs before tucking your hand back into your pocket. 

“So this is the best friend.” JT said, smirking. “Bout time Cale finally brought you around, he’s been talking about you for forever.” 

“Really?” You teased, ready to throw out a semi-embarrassing tidbit until Cale grabbed you by the waist, his finger falling to your lips to shush you as he guided you inside. 

“Can you at least let me get a drink or two in me before you start spilling the embarrassing stories?” He pleaded jokingly. 

“I suppose.” You conceded, smiling as he guided you up to the VIP lounge and over to the bar. Settling for a glass of wine, you watched him order a beer for himself before leading you over to one of the many couches. It wasn’t long before you were being introduced to all of Cale’s teammates.  

Gabe was boisterous and funny and the way that he looked at his wife Mel made you smile brightly. Josty was a character, he had you laughing almost immediately as he told stories about all of the media events he’d done with Cale and what he’d learned from residing in the same building. He was definitely giving you ammo to use later. Then again they all were, chirps had been flying left and right all night. 

You’d been nursing the same glass of wine for about an hour, watching as Cale downed another 2-3 beers as well as a shot that Burky handed him. It was nice to see Cale out with people that clearly cared about him and you knew this was probably the first time he had really been able to let go of all of the stress since the pregnancy scare. 

Eventually Mel and Lauren dragged you out onto the dance floor with the other better halves and even though you’d barely had anything to drink, the beat of the music had you relaxing, enjoying the time you had getting to know the people who were part of Cale’s other family. 

“You know his eyes haven’t left you all night.” Mel eventually declared, her voice barely audible over the loud music. 

“He’s always been a little protective…” You simply shrugged. The look Mel and Lauren shared suggested that they weren’t buying that logic but they didn’t push things. After a few more songs, you left the dance floor to head to the bar for a bottle of water. While there a tall….like really tall, dark haired man who looked like he should star in the next hollywood vampire blockbuster, slipped up beside you, his arm brushing against yours lightly. As you placed him as Cale’s d-partner you smiled up at him before looking back at where the bartender was rushing back and forth. 

“You know none of us have ever seen him like this before…” Ryan murmured. “He comes out but he never really lets loose. Now I don’t know whether that’s because it’s the first time we’ve been out since everything happened or if it’s because you’re here but I suspect it’s more to do with the latter.” You didn’t really know what to say to that so you shrugged. “And I’m not saying that in the manner of he feels like you’re the babysitter who will take care of him, I’m saying that he feels comfortable because you’re here in a way he was never comfortable either by himself or with Sara.” Ryan finally managed to get the bartender’s attention and he ordered your water along with whatever he was drinking before continuing. “And I’m sure Cale never said anything and neither did anyone else but...you should know everyone really likes you. And I can’t say the same for Sara.” Just as quickly as he’d appeared, Ryan had walked off and you glanced over at Cale to see his eyes planted firmly on you, his cheeks rosy from the alcohol. 

Water in hand, you moved to Cale’s side, his arm wrapping around you immediately. The redness in his eyes told you he’d had a little bit more to drink than he probably should have and you pushed your water his way, not wanting him to be completely impossible to drag home. The grin on his face was lazy as he took the bottle, showing how completely relaxed and at ease he was. 

His Adam's apple bobbed as he took a long sip of the water and you tilted your head to observe him, tie gone and the top few buttons of his shirt undone. His fingers slipped just under the edge of your shirt along your hip and you took your own sip from the bottle of water trying to hide the flush that filled your body at the feeling of his fingertips on your bare skin. Passing the water back to him, it was soon gone and once the bottle was empty you stood, looking over your shoulder. 

“Are you going to sit there all night or are you going to come dance with me?” You inquired, your tongue running against your bottom lip. Stumbling just slightly, Cale slipped out of the booth and his hand fell to the curve of your back as he guided you over to where his teammates and their significant others were dancing. 

With Cale’s chest pressed against your back, his hands fell to your hips once more and the pads of his fingers wandered over every inch of skin they could reach. His touch had never affected you like this before, he’d never been this brazen before, but you chalked both of those factors up to the alcohol. Though you’d only had two glasses of wine since you arrived, wine had always made you far warmer than any other form of alcohol so the heat in your skin was definitely just from that. 

“So I have a question…” Cale’s breath fanned over your ear as he leaned down to whisper yell at you, allowing you to hear him over the rap song that was playing. 

“Yes Cale?” You replied, tilting your body back against his so that you could see his face. It was even rosier than before and his soft smile was replaced by a serious and focused look causing your eyebrow to quirk at the sight. 

“Women like having oral sex performed on them right?” For a split second you were certain that it was only Cale’s hold on you that kept you from falling right over. Choking on your own saliva as you tried to swallow you quickly coughed, your cheeks even more flushed than you could attribute to the wine. 

“I...I mean from what I’ve heard yeah…” You finally stumbled out an answer. “Why?” Your question was ignored as Cale’s hands tightened around your hips. 

“You’ve heard?” Cale prodded. “You don’t know?” Cursing under your breath you shivered as Cale’s thumb stroked a sensitive spot along your side. 

“Cale…” You mumbled, not drunk enough for this conversation. He poked you in the side though signaling you to continue and you groaned. “I mean...I had sex for the first time freshman year of college and we didn’t exactly know what we were doing…” You explained, softly enough that only Cale would hear you. “And I mean I’ve only had sex one other time...it was a one night stand and we were both way too drunk to do anything but fuck. So yeah...I’m just taking other people’s word on it...why are you asking Cale?” You finished, twisting in his arms so that you could look at him properly. His head ducked to press against the crook of your neck and he hissed quietly as you drug your nails along his lower back. 

“Just curious…” Cale breathed. “Sara never let me...I mean I wanted to but...she told me she wasn’t interested.” For a moment you didn’t know what to say as that little piece of you celebrated the fact that it seemed there were a lot of things he didn’t do with his ex girlfriend. 

“Oh...I mean everyone has their own likes and dislikes…” You reminded him. “But generally equal reciprocation is definitely appreciated.” 

As the song ended, Gabe called Cale’s name to go take another shot and you pushed him to go murmuring that you were going to run to the bathroom. By the time you returned, you suspected it was definitely time to get Cale home, so you sidled up to his side, slipping your hand in his front pocket for his car keys. 

“I think it’s time we get you home and to bed rockstar.” You declared. Thankfully Cale didn’t put up much of a fight, closing his tab before letting you lead him out of the club. By the time you had parked in his garage, you could see how sleepy the alcohol was making him and you moved around to help him out of the car, his body nearly dragging yours down with its weight. 

Stumbling through the door, you urged him to start to bed while you got him more water and some pain killers. Gathering both, you moved to his room after checking to ensure the front door was locked. You found him sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed in only boxer briefs and though you tried not to stare, your body couldn’t help but notice that gone was the teenage boy you once knew and in his place was a man plain and simple. Setting the water and pills on his bedside table, you urged him to take his contacts out. 

Once you were certain he was fairly settled, you turned to make your way to the couch. Instead, Cale’s hands reached out to pull you back to him and as he scooted to the far side of the bed, he drug you down with him. 

“Cale…” You mumbled in complaint but his eyes were already closed and his breathing was starting to steady out, his hands keeping your body pressed tightly against his. Sighing, you managed to work yourself out of your jeans before giving in and settling in his arms. 

Between your conversation with Gravy, the looks Mel and Lauren were giving you, Cale’s inquiry, wandering hands, and this, so many lines had been blurred tonight that it was making you dizzy. 

For the second night in a row...your mind reeled as you fell into a fitful sleep. 

Blouse:

[renaerys]

PPG One-Shot: Six Degrees Chiller (Brick/Blossom)

A new cute one-shot in honor of @carriedreamerx birthday! In the same high school AU as part 1, part 2, and part 3, but can totally stand-alone. Also posted on my AO3. Tune in for some laughs and some Reds cuteness!

Summary: Brick goes deodorant shopping. It doesn't end well. (Or does it??)

xxx

Brick squinted at the nine-foot shelf packed with a full color wheel of deodorants and antiperspirants. The sheer surfeit of brands and scents was as daunting to behold as it was absolutely batshit insane—how many ways did people need to not smell like a dirty gym sock?

He picked a random stick and scowled at the label as if it had offended him and all his future progeny. Who the fuck would want to smell like mango lassi?

The squeak of a shopping cart rolling down the aisle sent Brick into a febrile panic for a hot second, and he shoved the saccharine deodorant stick back onto the shelf. A geriatric woman with a hunched back, a bright head scarf, and eyes so folded over with wrinkles it was a miracle she could see anything at all wheeled her cart slowly past Brick, who froze where he stood. She smiled politely at him, and he nodded out of sheer self-preservation instinct. The moment she passed him, he yanked the bill of his red cap lower over his eyes.

“Get a grip,” he grumbled. He was an eighteen-year-old guy buying deodorant, not stool softener. He was totally casual and had absolutely no reason to be so fucking paranoid. Nobody who might recognize him was coming to Cooper’s Market at 8 a.m. on a Sunday.

Brick wiped his clammy palms on his jeans and searched the shelves for what he’d come for so he could hurry up and leave. There it was, fifth shelf in a sea of sleek black and edgy, neon letters: Axe Ice Chill.

“Okay, do you consider yourself more of a music lover, sports star, gaming guru, or style icon?” Boomer had asked as he sat cross-legged on the sofa with his laptop open to the Axe “Find Your Magic” test a few months ago.

“Sports star,” Butch had said on his left, and poked the screen that wasn’t a touch-screen.

“That’s you, moron,” Brick had said, totally above this stupid test. “Pick style icon.”

Boomer grinned. “Oh yeah, your hoodies are so stylin’.” He clicked the next question. “Signature scent? Huh, maybe warm and aromatic?”

“Sounds like one of those Yankee holiday candles,” Butch had said.

Unfortunately, he had a point.

“Well, you're not exactly woody and earthy, and you’re definitely not fruity and sweet—”

“Just go to the next one.” Brick clicked on “fresh and cool” and waited for the screen to load. “Smellin’ good!” the loading page flashed at him. Jesus fucking Christ.

When the quiz presented a true or false statement, Butch moved like he had a bug up his ass and slammed the touchpad before Brick or Boomer could do anything about it.

Boomer tried not to laugh. “Dude, come on.”

“Please, he’s a punk-ass dweeb who’d never make the first move in a fight, let alone on a girl—” Butch had taunted.

Brick punched him in the throat with his Super speed and smiled at the sound of his asshat brother gagging. “Choke and die, motherfucker.”

Butch wheezed as he laughed through the pain, and Brick and Boomer breezed through the more generic age and appearance questions: under 18, long hair (“Mane Man!” the quiz gushed, and Brick almost melted Boomer’s laptop right there), and natural look. After an artificially anticipatory loading screen, a picture of a dude with a clown nose crowd surfing in a sepia Instagram filter appeared on the screen with the generic “Be your best self!” encouragement in blocky letters superimposed upon it, and finally the expert, personalized recommendation for Brick’s body spray needs.

“Because you’re hotter when you’re chill.” Brick had cringed when he read that idiotic tagline the first time, and he cringed reading it again now in the deserted personal hygiene aisle where he prayed no one would find him buying this cry-for-help vanity spritz.

However.

He sprayed a bit of mist in the air and reveled in that cool, icy scent that wasn’t a scent so much as a feeling. Six degrees chiller in a bottle. The first time he’d tried it (under great duress), he’d griped and bitched and slammed his bedroom door to get away from his howling brothers. Settled on his bed with a frown, he had to admit it did cool him off. It was almost pleasant. The smell wasn’t overwhelming like that tiger piss Butch bathed in on the daily. But it wasn’t out of this world compared to the generic shit he’d been using before.

It wasn’t until Blossom sneezed on their way out of AP Lit that her ice breath—and understanding—hit him with the force of a cold snap to the balls.

“Sorry, did I get you?” she’d said, abashed as she covered her mouth with one hand and fished out a bottle of Purell from her messenger bag with the other. Her ice splatter fast melted on his shoulder as his too-warm body absorbed the cold with a bizarre, but extremely pleasant, shiver down his spine.

Son of a bitch, but he had a kink.

Which, of course, spiraled way the hell out of control when he found himself here months later with a recycled shopping bag he’d brought so he could carry the three bottles of Axe Ice Chill he planned to purchase home, because Brick planned ahead and liked to keep his bathroom well-stocked.

Which also, of course, was why at that very moment, fate decided to punch him in the dick.

“Bubbles, you have, like, fourteen bottles of shampoo at home! You don’t need another one,” Buttercup groused at 8 in the goddamned morning on a Sunday.

“Those are all different products, not just shampoo. Honestly, Buttercup.” Bubbles zipped into the aisle with Buttercup on her tail just at the moment Brick had his second panic attack in the span of five minutes and completely lost his shit.

He launched the bottle of Axe Ice Chill so hard into the ceiling that it lodged in there tighter than a prairie-dogging turd.

“Brick?” Blossom’s hand on his shoulder nearly sent him yeeting after his abused body spray, if the sheer mortification didn’t rob him of further motor function and exactly one hundred percent of his brain cells.

Like her sisters, she wore a jacket over her pajama pants. They must have just popped over for some last-minute breakfast staples and a side of peer humiliation. But even in those criminally hideous Ugg boots and five boxes of pancake mix in her shopping basket at 8 on a fucking Sunday morning, her smile glowed.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he returned lamely, because that was all she was getting from him until his neurological functions rebooted.

“Hi, Brick,” Buttercup said, suspicious like usual and searching for some excuse to bust his balls for a laugh. “What’re you doing here?”

The Super sisters had cornered him in front of the Teen Spirit, which came in an absolutely frightful eighteen scents because there was nothing pubescent teenagers needed more than eighteen reassurances that their social survival depended on smelling like a potpourri candy bar.

“Shopping, obviously,” Bubbles said. “Ooh, Brick, you have straight hair. What do you think?” She held up two bottles of brightly colored free-range, organic hair shit.

“I think I was just leaving,” he managed.

“Empty-handed?” Buttercup peered at him like he might transform into a literal dick with ears if she only managed not to blink for long enough. He could smell the threat of a joke on her.

“They didn’t have the brand I wanted.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Bubbles said, genuinely stricken.

“Girls, let’s get going. I really want those pancakes,” Blossom said.

“We better grab more syrup. Buttercup finished it all,” Bubbles said, already moving away. She dropped both hair products in Blossom’s basket, not bothering to choose between them.

“Oh please, everybody knows you and the Professor are the syrup fiends in this house.” Buttercup floated after her and waved to Brick. “Hey, tell that shithead to answer my texts. He owes me $20.”

“Uh-huh,” Brick said, fully intending not to mention anything about this conversation to Butch at all.

“Sorry about your favorite brand being sold out,” Blossom said.

It’s fine, he would have said had she not caught his cheek in her hand and pressed a frosty kiss to the corner of his lips before he could do anything about it. Frozen fernlings crept over his cheek and chin, down his neck, and slowly absorbed through his now flushed skin, and he shivered. Without even thinking about it, he reached for her, but she was already walking away to catch up with her sisters.

When she got to the end of the aisle, she shot him a cheeky grin over her shoulder and had the nerve to wink at him. “Stay cool, Brick.”

Red in the face and high on her, Brick just stood there like an idiot gawking at his kind of unofficial girlfriend and the singular dominating object of his fantasies, be they sexual or otherwise. What was dignity when she smiled at him like that? What was a paltry imitation in a bottle when she kissed him like that?

The paltry imitation fell from its hole in the ceiling and exploded on the tiled floor at Brick’s feet with a winter ferocity that, in that moment at least, rivaled Blossom’s in the heat of battle.

When Brick got home later that morning and Boomer asked him why he smelled like a snowman’s asshole, Brick burned the clothes on his back and spent the next half hour in the shower thinking about how he was going to convince Blossom to make the first move and finally make them official.

xxx

Y’all better appreciate the research that went into this fic. That Axe quiz is real and I took it pretending to be Brick, and it literally does spit out a photo of a dude wearing a clown nose in a club. If that’s not a sign from the Daddy that I’ve chosen the righteous path, then idk what is. Sacrifices to my Chrome search history were made for this fic in the name of celebrating Carrie, ergo, worth it.

[rosegoldannie]

Secrets I (Elriel quarantine fic)

Here’s a lil Elriel fic, sorry it’s so short!

Masterlist

The sun shone brightly through the thin, gossamer curtain allowing buttery sunlight to shine through the curtains onto a tan, chiseled face. That warm ray of sunshine urged him to awaken and seize the day, to make the most of the springtime sunshine before it became gloomy clouds and morose raindrops.

He huffed out an annoyed sigh, shoving that silken pillow over his head to block out that light, and the birds that awoke and sang along with it, their cheery song both high-pitched and strangely soothing. He wanted absolutely nothing more than to go back to sleep and pretend that everything which had been happening for the last several days had been nothing more than some sort of a strange dream, from which he would soon awaken.

Somewhere distantly, he heard someone clattering and clunking around in the kitchen, pots and pans crashing loudly together with jarring clangs. Azriel sighed, as the beginnings of a migraine began pounding behind his eyes. Resigned, he began the long process of getting out of bed, taking a break between each step to reminisce about how much he would rather be asleep.

After a particularly loud crash, he half-stumbled, half-slid his way into the kitchen, both stunned and utterly unsurprised at the sight before him: Elain was mixing together several different suspicious substances in a large bowl, which was filled to the brim with foaming bubbles.

She glanced up, and instantly seemed to recognize the burning question in his dark eyes. “I promise I have a reasonable explanation for this.” She promised, those rosy lips curling into a warm, sweet smile even as her cheeks pinkened.

Azriel’s lips curled into a polite grimace, eyes wandering over the foaming substance, that was both somehow thick and runny. “Alright…” He muttered, keeping that bowl at an arm's length. “Do I want to know your explanation?”

A strange, wet slurp came from that bowl as a bubble rose slowly to the surface, then popped, and Elain let out a stiff giggle. “Heh...Would you believe me if I said I was making pancakes?”

“I think Gordon Ramesey might need a restraining order.”

She leaned over, slapping his forearm lightly. “It’s not that bad. Is it?”

His stomach gave a painful tug. “No offense El, that looks disgusting.”

Elain huffed a laugh. “None taken. Too bad we can’t just order pancakes from Rita’s.”

Azriel hummed his agreement, moving to help her clean up the mess, while mulling over the news wafting in from the TV in the living room. As he rounded the counter, he found that she was in one of her old gardening t-shirts, and a pair of sweatpants that looked frighteningly similar to a pair of his own sweatpants that mysteriously disappeared a few weeks prior.

They worked in quiet harmony together, both listening to the latest updates regarding the virus. “...Governor announced that the quarantine will last for a minimum of two weeks, though it is possible it could go on for as long as five. During this time, Governor Inslee has mandated that all non-essential shops and stores close their doors, and all non-essential workers be sent home. We also ask that those who have the resources to please work from home, or telecommute if possible to prevent the spread of COVID19. The governor will be giving daily updates on any new information that we receive.”

The doe-eyed girl let out a huff, watching as Azriel emptied her mixture into the garbage with a wet thwap. “I can’t believe this.”

He glanced up. “What? That we can’t order pancakes?”

“No, I mean the virus. This doesn’t feel real.”

Humming his agreement, he began washing the dishes. “Me neither. This feels like we’re stuck in some sort of a dystopian novel, or some bad dream that we’ll wake up from.” Making to open the fridge, to put away the milk and eggs, Azriel let out a groan, running a hand down his face.

Elain, seated on the counter, hopped down. “What’s wrong?”

He stepped aside, allowing her to see into the fridge. “We have to make a run to the store. We’re out of almost everything.” Indeed, the fridge was nearly empty save for a few beers, and a loaf of nearly-molding bread.

With both twenty-something adults muttering curses that would have paint peeling from the walls, they lumbered out of Azriel’s house, and down to his truck. Elain scurried back into the house, then re-emerged wearing a hoodie that was most certainly Azriel’s, and carrying two bandanas, One black, and one pale pink.

She slipped into the passenger seat, and buckled herself in. Azriel chuckled at his best friend as he pulled out of the driveway, and the car crackled down the gravel pathway towards the highway. He pretended not to notice as she connected her phone to the AUX, even when god-awful pop music began blaring through his speakers.

Letting out a squeal, she turned the volume down, and began shuffling through her albums. Again, he pretended not to notice when he glanced over, and saw her familiar disney playlist.

He finally caved when she began plating under the sea, and let out a loud and fake groan. “No way in hell am I going to listen to this.” He moaned, fighting the grin that tugged at his lips.

Elain grinned, a lock of wavy blonde hair slipping out of her ponytail. “Oh, really?” She teased, wriggling her phone in the air. “Seems like I have the AUX, not you.” She teased,

Azriel let out an offended sound, keeping his eyes on the mostly empty highway before them. “Come on!” He moaned, feigning being hurt. “Everyone knows that the driver gets the AUX. You’re not being fair.”

“Oh, the driver gets the AUX?”

“Yeah, he does.”

“Really?” His best friend teased.

“Yep!”

“Says who?” Elain grinned, turning sideways in her seat to fame him.

“Says me.” He stated, that grin at last slipping through. “My car, my rules.”

Elain let out a joking huff, but switched the songs.

Instantly, he recognized the melody, and began singing along. Once they reached the chorus, he began to belt it out. “Into the UnknOOOOOOOooooOOOOooown!” 

Elain squealed, covering mer ears. “You’re awful!” She teased, sending him a silly glare.

He only smiled. “Come on, Acheron.” He teased, nudging her with his elbow as they pulled into the grocery store parking lot. “You love it.”  Elain shook her head wildly, then tied her bandana around her face and slipped from the car.

Turning his truck off, he slipped the keys into the pocket of his hoodie, put his bandana on, and followed Elain towards the store. Once he reached the entrance, he glanced around. A strange feeling settling in his gut when it dawned on him that he couldn’t see her.

Suddenly, something warm and heavy slammed into his back, small arms wrapping around his neck. Azriel let out a winded gasp as Elain burst into joyous laughter. “Got you!” she sing-songed, skipping a short ways ahead, and leading him into the store.

“Nah, you didn’t.” He teased, stopping to pick out a cart, and rolling it into the store. 

“What?” She gaped, shoving her way against his side to help him push that cart. He gave in, wrapping one arm around her, the other still pushing the cart and ignored the fluttering in his chest. “I so, totally, got you.”

“Nope.”

“How?” She demanded, as they began to pick necessities off the shelves and tossing them into the cart.

Azriel sent her a wicked grin. “Because you’re short.” He teased, tossing in a few cans of soup. “I was only worried that you got run over by a caterpillar.”

She gave him a jokingly furious glare. “I’m short? Really?”

Leading them towards the produce aisle, he grinned. “Yep, I have to make sure I don’t accidentally step on you.”

Elain let out an offended gasp. “You’re one to talk, mister six foot six.”

“Hmm?” He teased, cupping a hand to his ear. “I can’t hear you down there.”

She harrumphed, and began loading in some more groceries. “I’m a perfectly normal height, sir.” She muttered, tossing in a packet of rosemary. “You, on the other hand, are freakishly tall.”

“Oh, please.” He muttered, placing a bag of apples into the cart. “I’ve seen garden gnomes taller than you.”

Elain froze, then turned towards him. For a split second, he turned cold, fearing that he had somehow hit a nerve and offended her. He waited several seconds for her to burst out laughing, but she didn’t, and Azriel’s stomach began roiling and knotting. “El, I-”

He was interrupted by her sticking her tongue out at him, and blowing a raspberry, and bursting into uncontrollable laughter, her eyes clenching shut as tears rolled down her pink cheeks.

Azriel turned the cart, and began moving towards the checkout lines. “You’re insufferable. You know that, right?” He muttered when she finally caught up to him.

“I know.” She chirped, beaming.

His stomach flipped painfully at the sight.

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[say-lon-i]

Eruriweek2019 Day 7: Timeloop

AO3 link.

Ginger and Honey

“You’re not going to ask why?” Erwin questions; he doesn’t sound angry or hurt, just mildly curious. It’s proof enough that it really, truly is over.

The first few times Levi did ask for an explanation. He’d yelled, he’d thrown things at the far wall out of frustration. It hadn’t changed a thing. It still happened. The day would still more or less go the same way. Erwin would hesitate in approaching the subject of moving out, would apologize innocently, would give him some time to cool off under the pretense of him being late for work. In the evening, if Levi hasn’t bothered to stalk the man into his workplace like some vengeful banshee or interfered in some other way, he would get the call.

He sits at the kitchen table now, takes another sip of his ginger honey tea. It tastes like hot, wet dirt. “You got a good enough answer for me?” He replies with a question of his own. It could be anything; ‘I fell out of love’, ‘I don’t like it that you meddle into my business’, ‘You’re a pushover, grow a spine’, ‘We don’t have enough kinky sex’, all of them perfectly good reasons in themselves. Erwin chooses to remain silent, even glances away. Levi shrugs. He knows. “Thought so.”

Erwin waits for a few minutes; he’s expecting the usual backlash. Levi is always easily incensed after all. When none comes, the man looks hesitant, thick brows pinched together, pushes the scrambled eggs around in his plate with his fork. He’s wearing the watch that Levi had gifted him on his thirtieth birthday. It goes well with his pale blue, crisply ironed shirt and his thinning gold hair.

“I think it would be for the best if I were to stay at a hotel until I find a new place. I’ll only be able to take whatever makes up for my immediate requirements. I can get the rest once my living arrangements are sorted out,” Erwin eventually says. Levi hasn’t made breakfast for himself because he’s known he’d lose his appetite over this exact conversation. He's already wasted perfectly good tea.

“Okay.” He nods, takes another sip. His hands or lips aren’t trembling like they used to. “I can call Gunther and he might be able to help out with the apartment hunting if you want.”

Erwin neither affirms nor says no. Instead, he sighs as if Levi is the one being unreasonable, he apologizes, and then he excuses himself because he’s getting late for work. Erwin by no means is a terrible liar, but they’ve been dating for a long, long time, for years, decades, and Levi isn’t easily fooled by his straight face and his curt manner. His half-eaten eggs morosely sit in the plate in abandonment.

Levi frowns and gets up to clean the table.

They’d met at a frat party in the first year of Uni. Erwin had been chugging beer straight out of a barrel and Levi had been the only one who’d bet on him finishing the whole thing without throwing up.

Erwin had thrown up. Then he’d insisted he give Levi a ride back to his student house before driving his secondhand Ford Fiesta into someone’s rose bushes. As Erwin had been trying to hatch a plan on how they’d apologize for the fuck up, Levi had taken advantage of their alcohol-addled minds and sucked faces with him until he himself had started feeling physically sick at the taste of vomit on the other’s tongue. They’d had sex a week later, and two weeks in, Erwin had asked him out on a date.

At exactly 5:21 pm Levi pulls his phone out of his pocket and waits. There’s a woman behind him waiting to get a chance at examining and comparing pancake mix prices, but he doesn’t mind her tutting.

At 5:22 pm his ringtone echoes around the aisle. It’s some cheesy pop song from some artist Isabel had dragged him to a concert of a couple of years back, though admittedly it hadn't been half bad if he can pretend to like noisy places. He receives the call.

“Levi,” comes Erwin’s uncharacteristically scratchy voice. Is the man on the verge of another breakdown? Is he crying? Did he contract a cold? Levi can never tell.

“Erwin?”

“I’m sorry.” A deep inhale. Levi can hear traffic in the backdrop, a honk, the steady thrum of Erwin’s Mercedes-Benz. He can imagine the wetness in Erwin’s pretty, blue eyes. “I’m so sorry. You don't deserve this. None of this is your fault. It’s not you, it’s me.”

Cliché. “I know.”

“You do, don't you? It’s always me. I don’t understand why.” Erwin sniffs. “I really don’t. We tried so hard, we made it work for five whole years this time despite… despite that. Despite me. We were doing so well, darling, it could have been so good, so why is it still like this?” A muffled thudding noise. Frustration. Erwin possibly hit something, and has now gone silent; Levi counts his breaths. He’s afraid he might start an avalanche if he talks out of turn. “I didn’t want it to end like this. Not after how it’d gone the last time,” Erwin continues eventually. “Do you remember that, Levi? I promised, didn’t I? And yet I just… I couldn’t anymore. I wish I could.”

Levi says nothing, only purses his lips. His throat feels tight even though he knows what is coming, where this is leading to.

“I wish I could give you everything you wanted, everything you deserved. I wish I could make you happy, Levi.”

“I know.”

“I cared for you more than anything in the world. You have to know that.”

Cared. “I know.”

A pause. “Are you not going to get angry like you did that time, darling?” Erwin still doesn’t sound angry; just defeated. His sniffling this time sounds a little wet. “Does it not matter to you what I’m doing? Do you not care?” Of course he does, but Levi doesn’t see the point in having to say something so obvious out loud. The way Erwin sounds is hurting both his ears and his heart. He thinks of hanging up, but can’t physically make himself stick to said thought. He’s the weaker one.

Someone honks loudly on the other end. Erwin swears under his breath, almost makes Levi chuckle; he’s cute even when he’s being all whiny and depressing, Levi thinks. The old lady averts her gaze and pretends to compare prices on the cereal boxes. Erwin sighs deeply.

“Where are you now?” He asks.

“At the supermarket. I'm almost done,” Levi replies. “Why?”

“I want to end things properly this time, Levi. You deserve closure. I owe it to you.” Erwin owed him nothing, in fact. Levi has been the one with the upper hand all this time. “I want us to talk. Can we?”

He’s pleading. Levi could tell him to not talk on the phone while he’s driving. He could tell him that they can talk later when he’s in a better mood, or that they don’t need to talk at all. He could tell Erwin to at least not take the usual route home, not to pass through Trost street, or to take a cab, or the bus so he doesn’t have to drive in this state. Levi knows how it ends. He’s looked into it and memorized it, lived through it several times. He knows where it goes horribly wrong before it ever becomes right. Erwin is his sun, the water to his parched throat. His smile makes Levi’s very existence worth something. Erwin is also impeccable at self-sabotage; this break up is imminent, final, and Levi dreads it with every fibre of his selfish being.

“Okay,” he says, his grip white-knuckled on the phone’s glass body. “We’ll talk. Come home. I’ll wait for you.”

Erwin takes a moment to respond. He sounds relieved, mildly pleased even, probably wiping his eyes on his sleeve. Levi is sure he’s holding the phone close, cradling it as if it’s the most precious, because Levi is doing the same. “Thank you, darling. I’ll see you soon,” Erwin murmurs.

“Okay,” Levi repeats. Erwin is being unfair, and Levi is bad at phone calls, but he’s in so, so deep. “And Erwin? I love you.”

He can almost hear the smile in the man’s voice as Erwin says it back. Then Erwin tells him to drive home safely: Levi doesn’t echo the sentiment.

He’s informed about the accident at 6:03 pm. A kind passerby who’s helped out with the ambulance and impromptu hospital visit calls him from Erwin’s phone, says his was the most recent number in the call log. Levi, despite the past times, still feels dread curling its icy fingers around his heart. By the time he reaches the hospital, it’s already too late. They let him take one last look at that handsome face; there’s a deep gash across one cheek, hints of glass shards being pulled out of the flesh. The doctors say they tried their best, that the blood loss was too much, that some parts hadn’t been where they were supposed to be. The dread slowly ebbs away and gives way to apathy.

He nods, he pays, he thanks the hospital staff for trying or at least pretending to care. A nurse or two are crying outside the room for a complete stranger. Levi doesn’t shed a tear.

Come tomorrow, he’ll be watching Erwin chug beer straight out of a barrel. Come tomorrow, they’ll drive his shitty, old car into someone’s garden and then make out to kingdom come. Come tomorrow, He’ll live another lifetime by Erwin’s side, trying and failing to keep him, and then trying some more anyway. He’s a fool. Erwin exists in a state that’s impossible for him to achieve. Levi will wake up the next morning and see his closely cropped gold hair, gaze into his blue eyes, trace his bile covered lips with a finger and fall for him even deeper.

Levi isn’t sure what triggers it; sometimes he wakes up weeks before the frat party. Other times he has already had a one night stand with Erwin. Once he’d had to wait almost a year and fret over not making the same choices and missing out on his chance of attending the frat party at all. It’s unreliable and shady, how it works, why it happens, but Levi is grateful all the same.

He goes home and pretends to be in mourning to avoid further hassle, to avoid selecting caskets and informing friends and family of his boyfriend’s demise. Dinner that evening is uneventful; Erwin had never been a big fan of pasta, but he’s in no position to complain right now, is he?

The ginger and honey is heavy on his tongue when Levi reclines back in bed and shuts his eyes.

[knjredwluv]

Red. [2]

Red (n.)

Red could signify the color of love, passion, determination, and strength. Red could also signify blood, fire, war, desire and energy. Red is an emotionally intense color.

Title: Red

Words: 3.5k

AU: Yandere/Obssessive relationship 

Characters: Jungkook x Reader. Hoseok x Reader. OT7.

Warnings: 17+ explicit language, angst!angst!, slight implications of smut, some fluff and soft moments (super fucking sappy),  yandere/obsessive relationship (this isnt a healthy relationship and i dont promote any of this), mentions of killing, hallucinations, has very descriptive angst!!

Summary: “After the things that happened, you decided to start anew. Everything was how you thought it would be; it was simple but perfect–until you saw your name on a black envelope. Out of curiosity, you opened it; and now, you wish you didn’t.”

LIST FOR RED

CHAPTER 2

You woke up to the warmth of the room which caused you to kick the covers off of your body. You attempted to open your eyes which failed with the curtains being slightly open. It allowed the sun to shine its golden rays onto the head of bed and to your face.

You rubbed your eyes and blocked the sun from blinding you as you looked down. You were greeted with sight of Jungkook, having a tight embrace around your waist and his face hiding between the bed and your side. Listening to his soft snores, your combed his hair with your fingers and traced his dragon sleeve on his arm with your left hand. You yawned and stretched. You looked to the nightstand, reading bright white numbers, 07:51.

Thankfully, you were off of class and Jimin was taking over your shift, at the cafe, today. You could still feel the headache of yesterday from not sleeping and drinking too much coffee.

Lesson learned. Never doing that again.

You carefully sat up, trying not to wake up Jungkook. Lazily tying your hair to keep it away from your face. Carefully moving, you froze when Jungkook moved from you to face the other side.

You noticed how he was still wearing his jeans and socks, evident that he could have gotten home later than 1 and was too tired to change; just taking off his shirt and falling asleep next to you. You admired his back profile for a while longer till you decided to freshen up and fix breakfast.

Opening the fridge, you searched for ingredients to prepare something but to no avail, all you found was milk, eggs and a few vegetables. You mentally noted to yourself that you need to go grocery shopping soon or you both will be too lazy to go and just stick with the packs of instant noodles, that’s been sitting at the top of the cabinet. You opened the cabinet, finding some pancake mix. Great.

Stacking the last pancake, you sprinkled it with a bit of cinnamon powder and placed the plate of pancakes next to the plate of scrambled eggs.

Walking back into the bedroom, you saw Jungkook using his phone with one eye open and in mid-yawn. You climbed up back in bed and popped your head through the space where he was holding his phone.

“I made food” You said cuddling into him.

He hummed into your hair as he gave you head kisses, scrolling through his social media

“What time did you get home?” almost inaudible, your face is squished against his chest.

“Not too late. Quarter to two?” You heard him say, the vibrations of his chest as he spoke soothing you.

You heard him wince and it made you look up at him. Your eyes widen at the sight of his busted lip. “Hey, woah, what happened?” You slightly got up to inspect his lip. You reached to hold his chin but hesitated. It was noticeable that it was a new cut; the corners were starting to dry up. You looked at him worriedly and looked for more injuries on his face and hands.

“Nothing important. Just some drunk guy at the bar,” He looked at you assuringly and tucked loose strands behind your ear. “he probably had a lot to drink”

Your worried expression then softened and nodded at his little explanation. “Did you sleep well?” He looked at your eyes and you saw how his eyes scanned your face, focusing even at the small details on your face.

“I did” You said “Let’s go have breakfast” You whined. He placed your leg over his torso, so now, you’re straddling him. “Come on~”

“Okay,” He turned and checked the time seeing that he had work at 10. He tapped your thighs, sat up and gave you a peck and began to tidy up the bed. Walking out of the room, he shouted,  ‘Let’s get this bread’ making you laugh.

“Okay, babe” His voice echoed through the apartment, and the jiggling of keys made you know that Jungkook was on his way out, for work.

Hearing the door close and lock, you think about what you’re going to do to keep yourself busy. You decided to clean up and organize the laundry and, maybe, take a quick run to the store.

Heading to the bathroom, you carried your makeup bag and clothes with you to start getting ready. You threw on some shorts, a grey hoodie and your vans. Making sure that you turned off all the lights, you plugged your earphones on, put on your hood and closed the door behind you. You walked to the nearest grocery store, which was not that far--it was like 3 blocks away.  

Looking around, you walked through the aisle dropping in all the necessities from meat to fruits and vegetables, toiletries and some snacks into the shopping cart. Making sure that you have everything you needed, you walked towards the self checkout machine and started scanning the items.

You threw the last item into the bag, you punched in your pin code and looked around while you waited for your receipt to come out.

Your breath hitched when you saw someone you recognized. Oh no, it can’t be. You were sure you just were imagining things, again. You squinted to have better focus and see if it was really him.

He didn’t see you, did he? He still looked the same as he did years ago. He was standing in the lane, two check out machines away from you. You hurriedly grabbed your receipt and pulled your hood over your head again. You walked passed the sliding doors, struggling as you carried the grocery bags.

Reaching your apartment door, you walked in and dropped the bags on the counter and closed the door with panic. You pushed your back against the door and placed your hand over your chest, as you tried to catch your breath. Okay, I’m seriously not imagining things this time. He’s really here. But how? Did he follow you when you moved here? Was he here all this time and you didn’t even notice? Was he here because of you? You noticed him but he didn’t notice you, or did he? Did he notice you? Did he see you and realize that it was you? I mean, you look kind of different from how you did before. Your hair is longer and red, you lost a little weight, not to mention, you also have a few tattoos on your arms. Of course, he wouldn’t know that--you wore a hoodie. So he wouldn’t be able to doubt if it was your or not. All these thoughts were running in your head that your breathing started to become shallow and your heartbeat was loud in your ears. You dropped down, sitting on the hardwood floor and tried to focus on your breathing.

inhale. One. exhale. Two. inhale. Three. exhale. Four. inhale.  Five. exhale.

“I’m breaking up with you” You sniffled. “I can’t do this. This is too much. I-I think we should go our sepa-”

“What? I don’t understand… I-is this why you called me here?” He said, facing you and removing his hand from the steering wheel. It was a cold night. You and Hoseok sat in his car, parked in front of your house. You found it to be a right moment for you to call the relationship quits after keeping a secret to him that you were moving away.

“Hobi, I-” You looked up at his with your glossy eyes--tears threatening to fall down. You loved him. You really did. He was someone you hoped to share a future with. It was like the cliche romance movie where the highschool couple gets married, gets children, live in a big house and such. That was what you wanted. It something that you still want--but you don’t think it’s healthy to have a relationship like this-- not when you realize that your boyfriend is, like, a psycho. “I-i’m sorry…”

He stayed silent and look at you. “I-it’s not you…” What am I saying, it is. “I just want some space…” away from you. “I don’t think I ca-”

He scoffs, “Did you find someone else?” He says, tone laced with bitterness. He looked at you, brows furrowed. You looked at him confused.

“What gave you that idea?”

“Tell me, ____,” he looked at the rear view mirror and back at you. “Did you?”

“What, no” shaking your head

“Then why are you tell-”

“Can’t you hear what you’re saying, Hoseok?” you looked at him in disbelief for accusing you, again, for cheating on him. “I’m sitting here, being vulnerable to you, and you’re accusing me of cheating, again?”

“____, see,  we don’t have any issues, so I don’t get why you’re doing all this” Yes, we do, you thought. You wanted to scream at him about how you know everything that he’s been doing behind your back. You wanted to tell him how scared and unsafe you feel when you’re alone with him but you refrain yourself from doing so before something happens to you.

“Hobi” You hands were shaking as you went to grab his hands in yours “,I hope you can understand me… or try to... “ tears streaming down your face “but if you love me… you’d let me go for now…” The heavy feeling in your heart was getting heavier. His face and eyes soften at your devastated look.

The next thing you remember, you were walking through the front door, shutting it and running to your room. You were on your bed, hugging your pillow, sobbing with tears of mixed emotions while Hoseok sat in his car tightly gripping the necklace he gave you.

You got up, stumbling after taking a step from feeling lightheaded from the sudden movement. You walked to the kitchen for drink water.

“I didn’t even drink a drop of coffee today,” covering your face with your hands, you bowed your head so you were leaning down on the counter. “Ah fuck” He’s here. Hoseok is here.

You sat in front of the TV, for almost have of the whole day just browsing through channel to distract yourself. Realizing that the sun was starting to set, you stopped on any channel so that it can play in the background while you fix up dinner for Jungkook. You lost your appetite thinking about what happened in the store so you felt like you should just make something for Jungkook instead. You prepared some pasta and took the leftover stew and heated it up, just in case.

Hearing a ping, you quickly dashed to the couch and grabbed your phone to check who texted you.

______

Jiminie

[6:01] Jimin: Yooooo special delivery. Just got home from the cafe n i have some cake

[6:01] Jimin: am gonna drop it off there

[6:03] Y/N: Jimin

[6:03] Y/N: what no you dont have to

[6:03] Jimin: shut up its black forest n jk would want it anyways

[6:04] Jimin: im headin there

[6:04] Y/N: wow okay fine

You don’t know how, but it’s as if Jimin has telepathic powers. It’s like he can sense the stress and problems you’re going through which made him decide to drop by just to hand you a piece of cake. You found it sweet whenever he did little things like this--which he does pretty often.

You went downstairs to wait for Jimin since he was gonna hand you the cake but when your arrive downstairs, you see Jimin and Jungkook talking. Jungkook already looking inside the pastry box, licking his lips, getting excited to devour the dessert.

“Speaking of the devil, there she is” Jimin looking over Jungkook’s shoulder. You smiled and thanked Jimin.

You and Jungkook headed to upstairs and as you walk your way back into the kitchen, you were thinking whether to tell Jungkook about earlier.

“What’s wrong,” Jungkook looked at you, mouth full of pasta “somethin’ happen?” You sat across from him on the table with your hands fidgeting together.

You kept silent, too busy gathering your thoughts. "Well, aren't you gonna eat with me?" You slowly shook your head as a response, biting your lip trying to avoid eye contact. "Okay ___" You furrowed your brows ",something's up, are you gonna tell me atleast?" He continued to eat while his hand grazed your cheek.

You didn't know how to start the topic. Your hands found its way to your hair and your elbows were on the table. You looked down and quickly said, "IthinkIsawhim"

He looked at you trying to decipher what you said "Say that again, but slowly, ___"

You looked up at him in the eyes "I think I saw him." Quickly understanding what you meant, his eyes widen a bit but making sure his reaction was not sudden so he doesn't make the situation as hard as it already is for you. You have always addressed him as him to Jungkook. He understood why you would--you didn't want to associate anything from the past to your new life. He gave you the time to explain your story but never questioned when you didn't name drop. He gave you that respect, for him to be kept unknown.

"Are you alright?" That was the first thing he asked. He dropped his fork on his plate to hold your hands, rubbing his thumbs against your knuckles. You released your grip on yourself when noticed your knuckles were white from making a fist.

"I think I am…" He stood and walked to your side of the table, pulled you up by your shoulders and pulled you in a hug "It's just-"

"I know," His hand patting your hair down "you don't have to explain, baby."

"What if," You pulled away and looked up at him "what if…h-he comes back and, like, you know…" you said hintingly.

"Shhh, don't say that," he leaned forward and kissed your forehead "that's not going to happen because you have me, i'm here okay?" You hummed.

"You're right," Fixing your hair and giving him a small smile "and I'm so lucky to have you, thank you Jungkook"

"I love you, don't forget that"

"I love you too"

"Ahhh yes," You moaned in pleasure "there, yeah, mhmm right there"

"Here?" Jungkook said, pushing harder "Like that?"

"No, you were already on it," You groaned "you were literally on the spot already"

"Okay, how about now" He put his thumbs on the spot he had it on before he moved "is that it?"

"Ooouu, yes, don't it move anymore please" You warned with your eyes rolling to the back of your head. The feeling was bliss.

"You need to stop being so tense," He said as his hands and thumbs were working their way on your shoulders and nape. "see, you're lucky to have me" He says with a giddy smile, looking at him through the closet mirror across the bed. Your lying on your stomach as he carefully sat down on your bum. You would expect him to be as heavy but you're sure he's just applying all his body weight and pressure on his knees.

He thought that, after dinner, he would treat you to a mini massage so you can release all the tension and stress from your body; also, to distract you from thinking too much about Hoseok. He knew that you couldn't resist those talented hands of his--even so when it means in a different way.

Subconsciously, with every motion Jungkook does, a light 'ohs' and 'ahs' would come out of your mouth. Soon enough, those little sounds of relief turned into little snores. "____," he moved to look at you and pushed the hair out of your face to see that your eyes were closed and the little snores were coming from you and not him imagining it. "Good night, baby" He lifts you up and tucks you into bed and kissed your shoulder, turning to his side and sleeping himself.

{Weeks later after the break-up}

You were fast-walking to the tree you told Sunnie to meet you at. Sunnie, your high school best friend, was already waiting under the bleachers, spam messaging and calling you to see where you were. Checking your phone:

INCOMING CALL… SUNNIE

CALL ENDED.

"Took you long enough," you saw her sitting on pavement, next to the corridor leading to the bathrooms "spill the details"

Holding your finger up to her and trying to catch your breath, "Hello to you too." Finally, catching your breath, you looked around making sure no one was close-by. School ended 35 minutes ago but you still made sure the students, that were left back, were not near.

"We're over" you said, referring to you and Hoseok.

"Yes, i know that," She said rolling her eyes "but how and why?" making a fanning her hands in a forward motion, signaling you to continue.

"Promise not to tell anyone?" you paused as she makes a cross on her chest. "Cross my heart"

"You remember that girl from the news who had a relationship with this mysterious guy? that famous couple?"

"Uhh, the girl who went missing ‘cause of her boyfriend" She says, looking puzzled at the sudden topic change

"Yeah," You said, nodding your head avidly "next point, do you know about those anime things like where the girl is deeply in love with this person and they will and can do ANYTHING just to have them for themself?" you rushingly said.

"Yea-" she shook her head confusingly "___, what are you trying to say, you're confusing me now"

"Just listen, please" you looked at her with a serious facial expression

"Yeah," she sighed "it's a yandere… I think?"

Nodding your head fast "Yes, yande- that!" pointing at her. She giggled at the failed attempt of pronouncing the word

"Okay, get to the point, ___," She said eager to find out

"I'm trying to say that those things that I just asked you all relates to an obsessive relationship," leading her on "so, I think that's what Hobi and I had." A pregnant pause was cut when you asked "Do you trust me when I say these things, Sunnie?", hoping for her to trust you. "Yeah, I guess"

"But wait, what made you come to that conclusion now?" She says confused

"Look, I'm not certain, but I believe that's what it is." You both sat there, you staring at Sunnie as she tries to comprehend what you just told her. "Remember when I told you I saw some messages on his phone? or when I had a group project with Mikey? I told you I saw him in the parking lot and that they almost ended fighting somehow til I saw Hobi pulled out a knife."

"Yeah, but jealousy is something normal, ___." She said nonchalantly, disregarding the knife part.

"But not when knives and death threats are fucking included! That's some fucked up shit" You whisper-yelled with gritted teeth

"Okay…" Her eyes widen at your outburst.

"I'm just scared. Out of all people, my first boyfriend is a maniac. I just don't feel safe knowing that I'm with someone like him who is capable of doing, literally, anything" you said, putting stress on the word 'anything'.

"How long has it been since you realized? or better yet, how did you realize?"

"Apparently, it started way before. If I remember correctly, maybe 4-5 months ago? But that's only when things started getting weird." She shudders at the thought. "I guess, it started off with people not talking to me as much as they did before, especially my guys friends in class. They would move when I try to talk to them." She looked at you with empathy. "Like, they would look away when I looked at them…" You said with confusion.

"It's that bad, huh?" She said, folding her lips. "You think?" you said sarcastically. "Trust me, the messages are worse. It had pictures and videos…"

"Is it what I think it is?" Sunnie's face contorts to a face of disgust.

"He has recordings of when my friends and I would talk… and… basically he was sending pictures of the weapons he had and he said things like 'i'm not afraid to use this on you'" You said trying not to puke your lunch.

"So what are you gonna do now?" she said looking worried.

"Well," You got up from the pavement and dusted your bum "we graduate in a few months, I'll probably just move to Daegu with Yoongi. He's gonna finish with enlistment soon. Plus, Mom and Dad probably doesn't mind that I move there, right?" You sighed "I'm just gonna start new, I guess. All I know is that, I don't wanna be anywhere near him or be with him anymore."

"Do it, you deserve it" she says rubbing your arm and giving you a smile. During the sentimental hug you both shared, both of you jumped away from each other, getting scared of the loud slam of a door in the bleachers' corridor. You and Sunnie looked at each other with wide eyes. Shrugging it off, you both walk towards her car, getting ready to leave the school.

[writingstarling]

Hot Cocoa and Tiny Marshmallows (Jason Todd x reader)

Description: You were having a horrible day at work, but not to worry, best BF ever Jay was there to help along with hot chocolate and marshmallows

Warning: it's short and I'm not that good of a writer

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

2nd POV

A scowl decorated your face as you stomped back to your and Jason's shared apartment. You were beyond irritated and everyone could see it. And boy did they not want to mess with you. Arriving in front of your door, you harshly and roughly opened the door before loudly slamming it shut to an extent that it startled your boyfriend who was calmly reading a book on the couch.

"Uhh.. did I do something wrong?" Jason inquired, slowly pulling the book away.

"No, it's not you," you angrily answered, "it's everyone at work!"

You let loose your hair that was previously trapped in a ponytail and plopped yourself next to Jason. Jason stretched out his arm and draped it on your shoulders, pulling you closer to his large chest.

"What happened, doll?"

"It all started in the morning, everything was great. But then, Sheryl slacked off and so Dan -- who was supposed to be filling in for her -- tossed her job to me. I had to do double work and he took all of my freaking earned credits and got a raise!

While I, got a lecture about not finishing my work to which I did finish!--," you continued to rant and rant as Jason calmly listened and commented every once in awhile until you fell asleep.

Slowly and gently, he pulled away and stood up from the couch. He grabbed a spare duvet that you both usually use when you two have movie nights and draped it over you. He softly caressed your cheek, turning your frown upside down in your sleeping state. He admired how you're able to stand working in a boring office and stuff.

You were the source of their financial balance as Jason didn't have a job and usually refuse to ask Bruce for help. Several times he offered to work to help your burden, but each and every time you would turn him down and state that he already has his nightly duties and it would be bad if he worked in the day too and he could never win said argument.

After kissing your forehead, Jason set out to shop for his plan to possibly cheer you up. It was winter at the time and oddly enough Jason only wore his usual leather jacket as protection from the cold December. Arriving in the nearest grocery store he made his way to the sweets aisle collecting hot chocolate mixes and small marshmallows.

As he was heading to the cashier, he passed by a rack full of Nutella jars to which happens to be his and your favorite so "to cheer you up" he said, he bought about five of them. After paying for his newly picked belongings, he marched home.

Meanwhile, you actually awoke several minutes after Jason left. Thinking he had to leave for a mission, you pulled out a tub of Nutella from your secret stash that was filled with at least seven Nutella tubs, excluding the one you pulled out. Without bothering to grab a toast or spoon that was merely five feet away, you scooped the contents of the tub and savored the wonderful flavor in your mouth.

And it happened to be a fairly large tub as you hugged it close to your chest like a plush while watching whatever that was interesting on TV and cuddling deeper into the duvet Jason draped on you. Because you were too focused on watching Criminal Minds, you missed Jason's footsteps in front of the door and how his keys met the key hole of the door.

Opening the door Jason expected for you to still be asleep, but alas, faith betrayed him and instead you were scooping the contents of a tub of Nutella with your bare fingers while binging Criminal Minds on Netflix.

'Guess my plan of surprising her is out of the window. And is that a tub of Nutella!? I didn't know we have that!'

Jason finally decided to catch your attention by clearing his throat. Even after he did so, you were still focused on the show and didn't notice his presence. So Jason decided to have a little bit of fun. Putting the plastic bags in his hands on the floor, he crept his way behind the couch. And as cliché as it is, the film was getting to a scary part that would compliment Jason's plan.

Slowly as the jump scare was about to appear, he grasped your shoulders tightly. Making you jump at the contact. Turning around, you saw your beloved boyfriend who you thought would be gone longer than that.

"Jay! You scared the living daylights out of me! What was that for!?" you exclaimed as you hugged your Nutella closer to your chest.

"Well, doll, that is called payback for hiding Nutella from me. I thought we promised to always share, how could you betray me like this!?" he pouted.

You sheepishly chuckled, avoiding eye contact with him.

"Well... I might of, kind of, uhm, purposely kept them to myself so that... we'd have a spare?"

A smug grin graced Jason's face before returning to his newly bought goods.

"What's that?" you crawled to the edge of the couch that's closer to the door.

Jason smirked, "You'll find out."

With a fixed gaze on his form, your eyes followed him to your small kitchen. From the plastic bag, he first pulled out the many Nutella jars that honestly made you roll your eyes playfully at him. Even Jason can't stand not spending his money on more than needed Nutella. After he finished putting away the Nutellas into the cabinets, he moved on to the second bag. Still wanting it to be a surprise he sent you away.

"Hey doll, why don't you wash up and change, I'll make dinner."

Narrowing your eyes you eyed him suspiciously, but complied nonetheless. You did feel like taking a shower and changing into a more comfortable attire. After giving him one last suspicious glance, you retreated to your room and took a nice warm shower. After making sure you were gone, Jason prepped his surprise.

He boiled some water before pouring the chocolate mix into your favorite mug and making another one for himself. After the hot chocolates were finished, he tossed in tiny marshmallows into them. Lifting up the winter spirit. Finishing your drinks, he moved on to making dinner.

Knowing that breakfast was your favorite meal of the day, he decided to surprise you by making breakfast food for dinner. Starting with his famously known pancakes, courtesy of Alfred's teaching in his Robin days. He mixed the needed ingredients before pouring them to the pan and flipping them when necessary until he had enough stacks to fulfill your and his likings.

Next, he fried a good amount of bacon before adding some eggs to the pan. The smell traveled to your room as you were putting on a pair of shorts and stealing one of Jason's t-shirt. The scent seduced you to hurriedly finish changing and rush to the kitchen.

"Why does this smell exist at this hour? This smell doesn't usually exist at this hour. How many of them do I get?" you rapidly questioned.

Jason couldn't help but bellow in laughter at your multiple questions.

"You can have as many as you like, or at least, as many as there is, excluding my portion of course," he answered.

You grinned at his response as you sat at the seat of the bar on your island. You watched him cook with a loving gaze, resting your head on the palm of your hand with your elbow supporting it. When Jason finally finished, you quickly took your plates to the coffee table in front of the couch before cuddling into the duvet once more.

Sighing, Jason shook his head before deciding to join you. But not before he grabbed both of your drinks.

"Here, thought that this'll cheer you up," he handed the cup to you.

Seeing the contents of the mug, you engulfed him in a bear hug.

"Is that my shirt?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You sheepishly chuckled before pulling him down to the couch. The rest of the night was spent watching movies on Netflix while cuddled against each other until morning came. He really is the best boyfriend ever, at least, to you he is. With the hot cocoa as great plus points.

EDITED

[edgeofmyniall]

i know i posted chaper two a couple of days ago but i wrote part one of chapter 3 and idk when i’ll have a chance to post this so here!! let me know what you think! also i’m trying a new header thing with each chapter and what it pertains to

Part One

My phone screen illuminated my dark bedroom. It was 4:48 a.m., and I could hardly sleep, only tossing and turning the entire night, my stomach in knots. It was early Friday morning, and less than five hours until Niall pulled into my driveway. I hated this feeling, a feeling of left wanting more-of feeling almost empty since Niall left the office. I couldn’t shake him. His eyes were there when I closed mine. I replay the memory of his laugh over in my mind. How is it that his laugh feels so safe, so comforting like home when I barely know him?

I close my eyes, trying to coax myself to sleep, but instead of dormancy, it’s almost as if Niall was here, lying next to me. His hand cups my cheek, pulling my face towards his. Why is he here?

“Bet ya missed me. I mean it’s only been 5 hours and 32 minutes since I last texted you. Obsessed much?” His laugh fills the silent room with such warmth that I crack a smile. The white sheets almost look ghostly against his tanned skin. “We got a long day ahead of us, why don’t ya just go back to sleep. Ya packed everything except what you need for the ride, c’mere.”

His hand grabs the arch of my neck and pulls me close to his naked body. And suddenly I realize I’m naked too...and I’m okay with it. I wrap my arm around Niall’s torso, burying my face into his chest-his chest hair tickles my nose. I breathe in his lingerings of his cologne. I shudder. His lips plant a gentle kiss on my forehead as I close my eyes. This is it. This is what love feels like.

I jerk my eyes open. My hands grab the soaked collar of my t-shirt that I slept in. I’m still clothed. It was a dream, just a dream.

A dream that had both me and Niall completely naked in. I rub my forehead with the palm of my hands, hoping it will wipe that delusion away. He’d never go after a girl like me. A big girl.

I grab my phone to see what time it is. 6:37 a.m. I groan as I pull myself to an upright position. I rub the back of my head as my feet touch the cold hard wood floor. I push myself off my bed, still feeling like I haven’t slept as I turn on the desk lamp. I might as well run a few more errands before leaving. God knows when I’ll be back.

The patter of my footsteps echo through the room as I walk towards the bathroom. I need to shower to wake me up before I head out to whatever grocery store is open at this god awful hour.

The shower squeaks before ice cold water spurts out of the fossit. I pull the metal tab letting the water flow through the shower head. I pull the curtain to letting the water heat up. I wonder if he’s up, I think as I begin to brush my teeth. I close my eyes as I continue to go on with my morning routine. I can see Niall perfectly as he sits on the toilet waiting to brush his teeth. He gets up and wraps his arms around my hips as he begins to sing some love song in my ear. I open up my eyes, and I look up in the mirror, seeing a white girl with a white foamed mouth standing there alone.

LA in the early morning hours is some kind of Twilight Zone shit. Most people are just now coming home from club hopping, having a one night stand, or passing through as they travel wherever they intend to. For some reason, every person needed to come to Ralph’s.

I push my cart down the chip aisle when a group of girls, most likely college aged, are grouped together in the aisle,drunk off their asses. They’re chatting away about the night’s activities, and I’m praying they don’t recognize me. I have my black Nike hat tugged low, nearly giving me tunnel vision, but I want to get out of here as quick as I can. I grab a bag of cheddar chex mix and Cool Ranch Doritos, but as I try to turn the other way, one of the girls comes up to me. She’s in a tight red dress and heels. Her makeup is smeared, but she gives me a sweet smile.

“I know I don’t like know you personally, but you’re even prettier in person. You’re like so lucky to have a mom like Ashley. Can I totally get a picture?” I nod and she gets one of her friends to snap a picture.

“Wait, you’re Ashley Diana’s daughter? Holy shit! I have to tweet about this. Dylan is not going to believe this,” another girl nearly yells. “Can you follow me on Twitter?”

“I actually have to go. I’m trying to write my new album, and I’m only here to grab snacks. But I’ll tell my mom you guys said hi,” I smile. I turn my cart and walk straight towards the wine aisle. I’m going to need it to get through this day. As I turn from the chip, I can still hear the girls talk loudly about our interaction.

-

I’m sitting on my couch when I hear Niall up, and for some reason, maybe a nervous tick, I smooth my top. I had gone to Ralph’s in yoga pants and a t-shirt, but I figured for this road trip, Niall would be dressed casual, not completely homeless so as soon as I got home, I changed into a navy blue and white striped shirt and dark washed jeggings. I hear the chirp of Niall’s car locking and his knuckles hitting my front door. I frantically look around and see that I should have straightened up my living room. My shoes, clothes, and odd things still are scattered everywhere. Fuck, it’s too late.

I get up and open up the door to see Niall leaning on the door frame, his fingers hanging in the air where he was tracing the chip in my door where my wreath was.

“Door hangers, huh?” he smiles. He’s dressed in dark blue shorts and a white shirt. His black sunglasses are still sitting on his face as he takes me in. The corner of his mouth slides up as he waits for me to say something. I feel somewhat self conscious. I hope my boobs are falling out of my bra. I give them a quick look; we’re good.

“I- uh...Ya ready?” I ask, my mind totally blank. I’ve never been like this, totally vacant as to what to say. Normally I never shut up, I over share and end up embarrassing myself, but around Niall, I can’t speak.

“Born ready. Where’s your bags?” His eyes dart towards my luggage that’s parked at the end of my couch. He begins to dart past me, but I catch it.

“I’ll bring them right out. I gotta grab the snacks anyways,” I turn around, my palms sweating. I don’t like this. I grab my multiple bags and begin to walk out of my apartment. I double check the overflowing food bowl I’ve left for Lucky. Niall stuffs my suitcase into the trunk of the black Range Rover as I lock up my apartment.

“Ya pack yer bathing suit?” Niall asks as he opens up my door. I slide in, grabbing the snacks from Niall to sit them between my legs.

“Yeah along with my stranger danger whistle,” I smile. Niall chuckles and I hear him call me a smart ass as he closes the door. Niall’s car is new. The leather is clean and in pristine condition, like we’re the first ones to ride in it. Suddenly I feel inadequate and almost ashamed of my car.

Niall climbs into the car, and as we pull out of my driveway, he nods towards my mustang.

“Is that yers?” He sounds almost interested. The sun shines on her silver exterior.

“Yeah, I’ve had it since my sixteenth birthday. It’s a ‘98” I’m short with my answer. My car doesn’t have heated and cooling seats.

“Nice. After the nineties they made them more muscle cars than sport. I like it. Very, um, vintage.” I roll my lips together suppressing my smile as Niall puts on music.

The sun is sitting in my line of vision as we get on  the highway. Niall glides in and out of traffic as I rummage through my purse to find my sunglasses. As soon as I put them on, the sun rays are less alarming. Thank God for polarization.

“What kind of sunnies are those? It’s looks like a record is on the front.” Niall’s eyes dart back to the road. His left hand is on the steering wheel, thumbing to the beat of the music as his elbow is resting on the center console. With the sun beating on him, he looks like an angel.

“That’s because they are. They’re Maui Jim’s and apparently they’re one of a kind. They’re heavy though.” We’ve barely gotten out of LA when my stomach rumbles, alarming everyone in the car that I haven’t had breakfast.

“Ya hungry, cause I’m starving,” Niall zooms out of the fast lane as he sees a billboard for a local twenty-four hour breakfast diner. He elbows my arm gently.“What’s yer favorite pancake?”

I see the same billboard. “Any Way You Want Pancake House--That’s the way YOU like it”

“Peanut butter chocolate chip pancakes,” my stomach is knotting at our touch. He eyes me, almost suspicious as to why peanut butter belongs on pancakes. He arches an eyebrow.

“Let’s see if they have any peanut butter there.”

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @peanutbutter-jelly-fish!

*****

“Derek, I need you to be my date!”

Ummm, okay. That’s a bit unexpected.

“Stiles…we’re already dating. We have been for a year now, or I did misread the situation?”

“No no no…wait, it’s been a year?!”

Derek just lifted a brow in his normal condescending way and continued to wait for Stiles to get his shit together and explain just what the hell is going on. As always, it doesn’t take long.

“Okay, I’ll get back to that later. But I need you to be my big bad alpha boyfriend at this wedding that’s coming up. Like all badass and broody, but lovey-dovey. I need you to just pull out all the shots.”

“And why are we doing this?”

Stiles tried to hide his flush, but Derek could read his face like a pop-up book by now.

“You’re trying to show off aren’t you?”

Stiles chuckled nervously and he started wringing his hands, like he was afraid of the answer. Derek has never had a problem with Stiles’ antics. At least, not recently, but right now something seemed off.

“Stiles, what’s really going on?” Derek asks, walking towards Stiles to grab his hands and keep them from moving so much.

There was a slight tremble to Stiles’ fingers and Derek was beginning to get a little worried. This was so unlike Stiles.“Okay, before you get mad, just know that I love you, and only you.”

Well that’s worrisome. He takes a huge breath, holds it for a few seconds, and then everything just falls out in a tumble of words.

“There’sThisWeddingAndMyFriendInvitedMeButShe’sMarryingMyExAndHeAlwaysSaidI’dNeverFindAnyoneElseAndIWantToShowHimThatHe’sWrong…”

Derek was definitely not expecting, well…any of that. Honestly, he can feel himself growing angry. No one talks to Stiles like that, Derek will not stand for it. Especially since Stiles is one of the kindest, smartest, most amazing people Derek has ever known. For that douche to make Stiles self-conscious? No. Not okay. Not at all.

“Okay, first of all, I love you too,” Derek says, caressing Stiles’ cheek, “and second of all, I’ll be your date for this fuckers wedding only because I want to rip his throat out. With my teeth.”

A small smile lights up Stiles’ face, and he lets out a huge breath, his shoulders drooping with relief. Derek pulls him into a tight hug, crushing him into his chest. Stiles just chuckles, hugging him back just as tight.

That night, in bed, Derek made sure to let Stiles know just how much he loved him, and Stiles definitely appreciated it.

Sunlight streamed in through their bedroom window, that soft warm glow of the early morning sun casting a beautiful light on Stiles’ smooth, pale skin. This is Derek’s favorite part of the day. The way the sun glints on Stiles’ hair, accenting the auburn hints in it. The way his face is completely relaxed and open, trusting. Derek never thought he’d have this, let alone with Stiles, but now that he has it, he’ll do anything to keep it.

The blanket lays just over the swell of Stiles’ ass and Derek grins at the small bruises lining Stiles’ back, evidence of all of his love from last night. He reaches a hand up to trace the outline of Stiles’ hip, his finger brushing the edge of the blanket, and smiles at the memories of their first time sleeping together. Stiles had been coming down from a 48 hour research bender, functioning only off of caffeine and 5-hour energies. His caffeine addled brain had completely erased Stiles’ already tiny brain-to-mouth filter. Stiles had confessed his love and obsession with Derek, not even realizing it until after Derek called him out on it. They’d ended up in bed not soon after, but it wasn’t at all sexual. Stiles had been so tired, he’d passed out almost immediately, but Derek hadn’t minded.

Now though, now he can rarely keep his hands off of Stiles. Wolves are tactile creatures, and werewolves are not any different. Derek loves the feel of Stiles’ skin under his fingers, loves the feel of his legs wrapped around Stiles’. He definitely loves the way it feels to cuddle up to Stiles after making love for hours into the night. He pushes his nose into Stiles’ shoulder, inhaling the scent of cinnamon and sugar. He relishes the way Stiles moves even closer, unconsciously baring his neck more. It’s rare now, but it still shocks Derek sometimes how much blind trust Stiles puts in him. Stiles is his anchor, and he is Stiles’. They fit.

Derek usually goes for a run in the mornings, to waste time before Stiles wakes up, but this morning is different for some reason. He can’t seem to let him go. He tightens his grip on Stiles’ waist and pulls him even closer, wrapping his leg around the back of Stiles’ and if Stiles were awake, he’d call him a “big wolfy octopus” or something like that. Derek secretly liked the pet names, but he’d die before admitting that to Stiles. He’d never hear the end of it.

Stiles mumbles something in his sleep, and then he peeks through his lashes at Derek, a smile set on his face.

“Morning cuddle-wolf.” Okay, maybe he didn’t like all of the pet names.

“Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Oh, you know, amazing as usual,” Stiles whispered, leaning up to kiss Derek gently on the lips.

“Good,” is all Derek said, but he couldn’t hide the smile on his face even if he wanted to. “Get up and shower and I’ll make us some pancakes.”

At that, Stiles was wide awake, sitting up in bed grinning at Derek like he’d hung the moon.

“Fuck yes, I love your pancakes!” Stiles tripped climbing out of the bed, the blanket wrapped around his ankles, but that didn’t slow him down.

His determination was too strong. Derek definitely stayed just long enough to watch Stiles skip naked into the bathroom, and then he went downstairs to start on breakfast.

He’d just gotten everything set up on the counter, organized and neat just like he liked it, when Stiles came bounding down the stairs in nothing but his boxers like a child on Christmas morning. “Let’s do this thing!”

Derek just chuckled, handing him the eggs and the mixing bowl.

It’s amazing how focused Stiles can get when he wants to help with something. Derek can see him, out of the corner of his eye, sticking his tongue out as he measures precisely 2 cups of flour. Derek finds it adorable, so he tells him.

“Umm, excuse you. I’m not adorable. I’m a big, strong, man who loves to make sure everything is just right.”

“Yeah. Adorable.” Derek is only slightly shocked at the handful of flour he gets to the face.

Stiles thinks it's hilarious, if the wheezing laughter coming from next to him is anything to go by, so Derek grabs a handful of the flour from Stiles’ meticulously measured bowl, and tosses it in Stiles’ face. Stiles just laughs even harder, and soon Derek is joining in, and then they’re both collapsed onto the kitchen floor struggling to breathe through their laughter.

The kitchen is an absolute mess, flour coating literally everything within a five foot radius, but Derek can’t bring himself to care, because Stiles is smiling so hard and so beautifully. They both turn to look at each other at the same time, a look of adoration covering Stiles’ face and Derek didn’t even realize he’d moved until he was right on top of Stiles, looking down into Stiles’ eyes.

“I love you so much. You know that right?”

Stiles just nods, and then his hands are drifting up into Derek’s hair, warmth blossoming in Derek’s body, and then they’re kissing, slow and gentle, but perfect in every way. Derek settles down between Stiles’ legs, no hurry to their actions, just slow movements and gentle hands.

“You know…this is gonna be a bitch to clean up.”

They both just bust out laughing, in no hurry at all to do anything but fall in love just a little bit more.

“Stiles, you can not wear a trash bag to your friends wedding.” Three times now, Derek has had to get Stiles back on track to buying suits.

Three times. In thirty minutes. It’s only a little bit ridiculous. Stiles huffs as he throws down the huge plastic bag he’d found, and pouts like a 5 year old who didn’t get the toy he wanted.

“She’s lucky I love her,” Stiles mumbles under his breath. Derek just rolls his eyes and moves on to the next rack of suits.

He’s impressed by all of the options they have here, aisles upon aisles of different colors, styles, and even accessories to accentuate the suits. He’s even seen a few 20’s style vest suits that would look amazing on Stiles, but Stiles refuses to try them on.

“This would go so much faster if you’d participate you know.”

“I just don’t see the point in buying an expensive ass suit that I’m only gonna wear once for my freaking exes wedding!”

“Actually, this is your Best Friend’s wedding, and maybe I just want to enjoy looking at your ass in some of these suits.”

Stiles’ shock only lasts a few seconds before his face lights up with a mischievous smile that almost makes Derek regret what he said.

“Are you saying you like to look at my ass, Hornywolf?” Okay, he definitely doesn’t like all of the pet names.

Stiles stalked towards him, and if Derek didn’t know any better, he’d say Stiles was a born wolf, his gaze predatory and determined. “I think I stated that pretty clearly, actually.”

Stiles was right in front of him now, almost eye-level with him and Derek’s heart beat just a little bit harder. Stiles was hot when he acted like a wolf, and he knew it absolutely turned Derek on.

Stiles placed a hand on Derek’s chest, his long fingers strong and sturdy over Derek’s beating heart.

“And which suit, exactly, did you have in mind?”

Derek could feel Stiles’s hand moving further down his chest and the world narrowed down to only that one feeling.

“Your birthday suit obviously.”

“Well c’mon then, Sourwolf. I think they have an amazing selection of those near the restrooms.”

Derek let himself be dragged behind Stiles, their hands intertwined. Dammit he loved this man.

A week later, after finally successfully picking out a suit for both Stiles and Derek, they were getting ready for the big day. Stiles seemed nervous and shaky. Derek wasn’t sure if it was because of the wedding in general, or if it was because he would be facing his ex again after five years, but he tried his best to be supportive.

He made Stiles’ favorite breakfast, minus the mess this time, thankfully, brought it to him in bed with a cup of Stiles’ favorite juice, and then gave Stiles “the best damn blowjob ever.” It was turning out to be a pretty good day, considering the circumstances.

“Babe, are you almost ready?”

Derek was fixing the cuffs on his suit, pulling the arms taut, when Stiles walked out of the bedroom, fully dressed in the vest suit Derek had chosen for him. And dammit if it wasn’t the most gorgeous thing Derek had ever seen. Red really is a great color on Stiles. Derek had chosen the darker option, not wanting Stiles to stand out too much. He had his jacket slung over his shoulder and his other hand tucked into his pocket, and Derek was happy to see that Stiles’ ass really was just as amazing in that suit as he’d thought.

“Holy fuck, Stiles.” That was all he could say. Almost speechless as he gawked at the way Stiles’ hips looked, at how low and tight the pants rode. He wanted to wrap him up in his arms, so he runs up the stairs and does exactly that.

“You look amazing.”

“So do you, Der-bear. Drop dead gorgeous if I do say so myself. You chose well, young Jedi.” Stiles chuckled at his own joke and Derek leaned down to kiss him on the lips, soft but insistent.

“You ready to go?”

Stiles took a deep breath, his chest rising then falling as he let it out, and then he nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Derek didn’t know what he’d expected, but this definitely wasn’t it.

“It’s a bit extravagant. Who is this best friend again?”

“Her name is Taylor. We grew up together, but she doesn’t know that Brad and I had a thing together in college. It was kind of a secret.”

They took their seats in the backyard, the huge mansion they walked through only the beginning of the extravagance. Outside, there were hundreds of lanterns set up around even more foldable chairs. Flowers decorated every inch of the backyard and Derek could barely breathe through the aroma. Derek turned to look at this ‘Brad’ and he could see nothing that Stiles would like in this guy.

They both chatted over the music, judging all of the wedding guests, and pretending to care about what was happening around them. It wasn’t until the bridal music started playing that they started paying attention. When Brad turned towards the backdoor of the mansion, he made eye contact with Stiles and froze, anger written on his ugly face. Yeah, Derek really didn’t understand why anyone would like this guy.

Brad’s eyes flicked between him and Stiles. His face showed shock, and possibly a bit of jealousy, but mostly shock. His eyes were wide and confused, and Derek just smirked, giving him a two-finger salute. Stiles laughed.

Derek dropped his arm over the back of Stiles’ chair and leaned in close, scenting Stiles’ neck and relishing in the little breathy moans that escaped Stiles. Suddenly, Derek’s plans got adjusted.

Taylor walked out of the house, gorgeous in a long, skin-tight dress with a trail a mile long. Derek had to admit, she was a sight to see, but nothing could compare to the way Stiles filled out his suit.

Derek ignored the festivities in favor of messing with Stiles, speaking dirty words for only Stiles to hear, and enjoyed the flush that ran up Stiles’ neck. Time really flies by when you’re not paying attention, and soon the crowd is standing and applauding. They break apart to join in the clapping. At least Taylor looks genuinely happy up there.

“Let’s go get some drinks.”

“Great idea Der-bear.”

Derek and Stiles are the first to leave the yard, but soon the guests follow, all gathering inside the mansion for the reception. Derek and Stiles are on their second set of drinks by the time the newly wed couple walks into the room, and it's time for another round of applause. It might be the drinks, or the wolfsbane Derek slipped into his drink to at least feel something from the alcohol, but he was feeling rather bold tonight. He pulled Stiles out onto the dance floor, automatically falling into step for the slow song playing over the speakers, and Stiles was absolutely glowing against him. And then that glow faded as Brad and Taylor started walking towards them.

Derek just tightened his arm around Stiles’ waist, wanting to make sure that Stiles knew he wasn’t alone.

“Stiles! I’m so glad you could make it!” Taylor was way too chipper, and completely unaware of the tension between the rest of the group.

“Of course I made it. It’s your big day! We always talked about this moment,” Stiles said, but Derek could hear the slight tremble in his voice, the only indicator that he was anything but calm.

“Well thank you so much for coming! And please, introduce me to this handsome man next to you.”

Stiles chuckled. “This is Derek, my—

“—his fiancé.”

Shock painted everyone’s faces, but most of all Stiles’.

“Fi-fiancé?”

“Well...if you’ll have me,” Derek dropped onto one knee, right in front of every single person at the reception, pulling out a small, velvet box. He grinned up at Stiles, secretly reveling in the look of extreme confusion on Brad’s ugly face.

Taylor squealed in joy next to him and Stiles grinned ear-to-ear at her as she bounced up and down.

“Of fucking course I’ll marry you!” Stiles practically throws himself at Derek, his long limbs wrapping around Derek. Derek’s face hurts from how hard he’s smiling.

A loud applause sounds through the room and Derek realizes that the entire wedding reception has stopped to witness Derek’s proposal. Take that Brad.  

Their kiss was one to rival the movies, and their wedding was one to rival the stars.

***

[sunsetinmyvein]

Just Off the Key of Reason - Chapter Twelve - Me and My Plus One

Saturday, 28th of April, 2007 – Chicago, Illinois

This time around, Patrick at least knew why he was being ignored. He couldn’t say he was overly comfortable with the situation but this time he knew what the cause behind it was. At least he was pretty sure he knew what it was; his memory was kind of hazy up until when Joe had interrupted them.  As his head hung over his toilet bowl the following morning, he tried to recall everything to the best of his ability through his pounding headache. It felt like a freight train had pushed its way through his ear canal and left a train of destruction as it pushed from one side of his head to the other, but he could make out some details through the debris. He had sent her a few half-drunken texts shortly after Pete had interrogated him about his opinion on their party planning, and unsurprisingly, they went unanswered. The night had ended not long after that, partially due to Patrick kicking people out one by one in his attempts to find her, and partially due to people actually having to go home. Once everyone had left Patrick found himself moping in his bedroom until the sun started creeping through his curtains the following morning. In the cold light of day, being forced to throw up the contents of his stomach, he was beginning to feel like maybe last night wasn’t his best decision. He should’ve known better. He should have known that it would only leave him feeling worse and wanting even more answers than he had been given. She had told him to forget it, so maybe that’s exactly what he should, would do.

 Thursday, 14th of June, 2007 – Chicago, Illinois

The time gradually ticked by in their time off. Andy had a low key family get-together for his 27th birthday in late May; meanwhile Pete had another raging party in a privately hired club for his 28th in early June to celebrate getting through his 27th year on this Earth that he never felt he’d make it to. Eventually they had to start getting ready to go back on tour. The bus was hired for the month that they would need it and was scheduled to meet them in Washington after their flight. Guitars were packed, drums were neatly slipped into their boxes, and merch was chosen. Mostly that had all been sent earlier so that it could take the longer, and cheaper, way around. Interviews were had, signings were attended, promos were released – anything to make sure that people knew Fall Out Boy were coming. If the first of their two months off had been a break, the second had been intentionally made as busy as possible just to make touring seem easy in comparison. In the process of all this commotion, Patrick had found himself meeting many new people. One of whom took a shine to him, and he took a shine to her. All of a sudden he found himself with a girlfriend. A girlfriend who wanted to come on tour with him. This was unfamiliar territory for him; he’d never properly dated anyone since they started touring regularly. She was one of the people who worked in the studio, so she wouldn’t be coming on the road normally, but he had assured her that she could come along to the first two shows with him. From there she was going to meet a friend in Oregon and they’d drive home together. He was more than happy to let the excitement of the new experience keep his mind occupied.

 The band and immediate crew members had crammed themselves into a row of seats at the airport, waiting patiently – or impatiently in Andy’s case – for their red eye flight to Washington. He sat there bouncing his knee as he watched the clock in the corner of the electronic poster in front of them. The time gradually counted up and up as he anxiously glanced around the waiting area for their missing bassist.

“Where the fuck is he?” He grumbled under his breath.

“He’ll be here, man. He was in that group chat with the flight times, just like the rest of us.” Joe reasoned from under his eye mask. He had decided as soon as they sat down that it was far too late to still be functioning and had opted to take a nap in the waiting room seat. But their drummer’s constant worrying had mostly prevented that from happening.

“It’s five minutes until we board. You’ve not heard anything from him?” His question fell upon deaf ears. Joe was either ignoring him or half asleep already and Patrick was too engrossed in his conversation with his girlfriend to care. He kicked Patrick’s shin across the aisle, earning an ‘ow’ in response as he attempted to rub the pain out of his leg. “Pete? Have you heard from him?” He asked again.

“No, I haven’t spoken to him since the day after my party.” Patrick glared back.

“Well, I’m going to call-” Before he could even punch the numbers into his phone, a familiar, overly loud, laugh filled the mostly empty gates.

“I told you he’d be here.” Joe mumbled.

 “Are you not meant to be my babysitter?” Pete laughed as he dropped his backpack from his shoulder. Patrick felt himself tense at those words, trying to remain interested in his conversation but suddenly finding it very hard to remain focused. “I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t be giving me tips about how to get as drunk as I can on the plane.”

“You said you don’t like flying. If you’re totally wasted, you won’t even remember you did it.” She shrugged as the two of them walked up to join the group. Patrick felt the hairs prickle on the back of his neck. They hadn’t spoken in over two weeks. He had assumed that she wasn’t coming back for the second leg of the tour. The label had never mentioned her staying on for another month.

“I might also try and join the mile high club though.” He chuckled as he nudged her in the ribs.

Joe snorted loudly with a laugh, “Don’t pretend like you haven’t already.”

 Eventually Patrick caved to the nagging feeling in the back of his mind and looked up at her from the waiting room chair. She was rifling through her bag, he assumed for her boarding pass. The conversation he had been having was still droning on in the background of his thoughts. He felt like maybe he should say something about where they left off, but if she hadn’t wanted to talk then, why would she now? He stared at her in a stupefied silence until eventually she looked up from her bag and met his gaze. Her eyes flicked from his to above his head.

“New hat?” She asked with an eyebrow raised.

“Uh, yeah.” He absentmindedly touched the fedora atop his head. “The other one…” He swallowed hard as he tried to force the words out, “it kept getting in the way.” He could’ve sworn he saw a blush creep onto her cheeks, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it because soon enough his girlfriend was grabbing his arm and dragging him to the gate to board their flight.

 Friday, 15th of June, 2007 – Seattle, Washington

The flight was mostly uneventful. To avoid his crippling anxiety of impending doom on a metal death trap, Pete doped himself up on some sleeping pills and in-flight vodka. When he came to he was draped across a couch somewhere. He felt vaguely like he was moving, but he himself wasn’t. Was he in a car? His eyes slowly came into focus and he realised he was facing a small living area. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and sat up, figuring he must have been relocated to the tour bus. A little part of him wondered who had the pleasure of hauling his unconscious ass here, but given the fact that a blanket was draped around his waist and a water bottle sat at his feet, he assumed it was probably Andy. Also he wasn’t entirely sure if anyone else would be able to carry him without assistance. He glanced around the small area at the back of the bus, spying the kitchen through the aisle of bunks and feeling his stomach growl. How long had he been out? Apparently long enough that he felt that familiar sleep induced unsteady feeling settling in his legs.  The bus seemed dark; it must still be early morning. All of the bunks had their curtains pulled shut so he assumed they had left him here while they all went to bed. He ambled through to the kitchen, examining what was in the well-stocked cupboards. This was a hell of a lot fancier than what they had in the past. The appliances were all chrome and shiny, there was a proper benchtop and even an oven cooktop combo. They must have either hired or purchased this bus from new. He absentmindedly wondered how fancy a tour bus kitchen would have to be before he decided they had made it as he refiled through the food supplies. He couldn’t help but snicker with the knowledge that the label had intended for this to last the whole tour. It would last a week at best.

 After much consideration he settled on a packet of pancake mix, it seemed the most practical option and he was excited to use appliances that he’d never had the thrill of using on a moving vehicle before. Would it be easier to flip pancakes with the momentum of the bus? But before his hand could even come into contact with the gas dial, it was rudely slapped away.

“Fucking hell,” He squeaked in surprise as he pulled his hand up to his chest, “don’t sneak up on people like that.”

“You are banned from the gas appliances.” She ordered as she moved in between him and the stove.

“What? Why?” He tried to reach around her to at least retrieve the pancake mix but she wouldn’t budge.

“Because you have a tendency to explode things.” She explained, narrowing her eyes at him. He vaguely remembered fireworks in hotels.

“No, I don’t.” He lied. “But even if I did, how am I going to cook pancakes without a stove?”

“I guess you’ll have fun working that out.” She grinned up at him. They stood there in silence for a few moments, waiting for the other to stand down, until he admitted defeat. He groaned loudly, instead grabbing a bag of chips from the counter and moving to sink back into the couch.

 The two of them decided to watch whatever terrible show was on at five in the morning in the middle of nowhere, killing time until everyone else woke up. She had gotten up early to make sure everything on the bus was working before everyone attempted to use it, at least that way they would be able to accurately tell if Pete did break anything, or if it just came like that. They’d grown a lot closer in the month or so since Patrick’s party. Anyone who was willing to assist with Pete’s antics was someone he considered a friend. He was also beginning to find her company considerably more tolerable than what it had been at the start of their tour. Even despite that every second conversation was her reprimanding him for something. After a few minutes of static silence Pete threw a chip in her vague direction. She looked over at him in confusion.

“How’s things with you and lover boy?” He asked with an eyebrow raised. She rolled her eyes.

“How’s things with you and your girlfriend?” She shot back, voice laced with sarcasm.

“Good, actually.” He nodded. The confused stare he got in response urged him to continue. “We, uh… we didn’t break up this time, we’re going to try the long distance thing.” It was still a concept that didn’t sit well with him, but he figured if Patrick could work it out, then so could he.

“Oh. Well, good for you guys. I hope it goes well.” She smiled back at him, reaching across the table to grab a handful of chips. He pulled the bag away from her as he clicked his tongue.

“Nuh-uh. Answer my question.”

 She let out a heavy sigh. “That should be pretty self-explanatory, Pete. He’s on tour with his girlfriend.” Since coming back onto the tour she was trying her best to ignore the changes that had occurred in their month off. Patrick’s hair had grown out quite a bit, nearly coming down to his shoulders. He also seemed very attached to his new hat, she was yet to see him without it. In addition, and probably the most hard-hitting change, they hadn’t spoken except for their brief exchange in the airport. It was odd going from being attached at the hip to suddenly having a minimum ten metre gap between you at all times.

“That doesn’t mean shit. She goes home after two shows and you’re still here.” He finally offered the bag over to her and allowed her to take a handful.

“They won’t break up just because she goes home. Patrick’s not like you.” She laughed dryly, trying to avoid the slightest amount of hope sitting in the back of her mind that maybe Patrick was like Pete.

“I take offense to that.” He gasped. “But you never know. Crazier things have happened.” He shrugged, stuffing a wad of chips into his mouth.

“Yeah, like you being a bass player in a band when you’re terrible at it.” She grinned.

“You’re sho mean ooday.”  He garbled, spraying chips over the living room table.

[bimothecurious]

Nice Guys Fic:  True Grit (Dairy Aisle Ghosts)

I had some spare time at my hands this morning, started writing straight into the blue and actually managed to come up with a complete ficlet.

The basic idea: Holland March must have some neighbours, right? Genre: Gen Length: 861 words Rating:  An extremely mild AO3 “Teen and Up Audiences” at best, some March family sadness, but there is hope. Oh, and somehow the whole thing turned into a Christmas story. Yeah, I know it’s a bit early ...

Author’s Note: What you’ll find under the cut is the unbetaed version, fresh from my hard drive because I really need some instant gratification right at this point. So I’m wondering, just in case you have read and enjoyed: Could any of you lovely native speakers around perhaps give this piece a quick language check, so I can put it up on AO3? I’d be one happy writer :)

TRUE GRIT (DAIRY AISLE GHOSTS)

by Bimo

 December 1978

Holland March, you ask? I am not sure if I am the right person to tell you, since I’m only a neighbour, an elderly neighbour as certain people will gladly point out.

Well, nobody around here would have bet, say, more than a fiver that March would really do it. But believe it or not, he proved us all wrong in the end and built his second house on the very same spot where his first one used to stand. See? Over there.

A little smaller perhaps, but all in all very solid. I like the roof and the windows, because they make the whole place seem like a proper family home, and not like any of these flat roof bungalows that come straight out of some architect’s catalogue. By the way, I am pretty sure that erecting this second house and moving in must have cost him dearly, and by this I do not mean money, my friend.

March, you have to understand, is at the same time both incredibly tough and very easily shaken.

Last month, shortly before Thanksgiving, he called the fire department, because Tim and Audrey Myers were having a barbecue in their back yard and the smoke rising up was getting a little out of control. See, Tim and Audrey have only been living in this neighbourhood since August ’77. A very nice couple, from Seattle originally, one six-year old son and a black and white English Setter called Nellie. Sweetest dog in the world, just as sweet as my own Labrador mix Sheila was.

Somehow nobody had warned the Myers that out of respect, and also out of sheer common sense, you should be careful with open fire and smoke if your house is next to March’s. Especially during the holiday season, because March’s issues are not of the kind that can be ever fixed by handing him some big, juicy T-bone steak and a beer.

“Oh fuck,” was Tim Myers reaction, once we had finally told him March’s story in detail. “If something like that ever happened to Audrey and me-“

Tim has no idea, though, how much March’s state has improved during the last year. For starters, I haven’t seen his  daughter Holly drive the Mercedes ever since February. This Jackson Healy fellow? Sure, a couple dozen of times. But not the girl, to my relief. You must know, Holly March is one hell of a kid and equipped with more common sense than a whole lot of adults, but she has just turned fourteen this October. That’s bit young to drive around, don’t you think? Especially with traffic these days.

March should consider himself real lucky he’s got her.

Sometimes, when I look through my kitchen window I can see all three of them just as they were when they first moved here. Holly’s mother in a blue and white summer dress, and the girl, two, perhaps three, such a sweet little sunshine, on her father’s shoulders and trying to grasp his nose all the time. March himself can’t have been a day over twenty-five.

Back in the day, my wife and I wondered whether he was actually old enough to be a responsible dad, because he still looked so very young, more like a kid than a man. Scrawnier, shorter hair, no moustache. And Lord, could he smile.

Now of course, people are wondering whether he is fit to be a dad for different reasons.

Alcoholics have no business raising a child, they say, and under usual circumstances I would agree. My own mother drank, so I know what that’s like. But where was I? Ah, yes, March. Slowly mending, are the words my wife would use if you spoke to her. Not that you’d notice by watching him on a day to day basis. But if take the whole picture?

There is this one incident from three years ago that I will always remember, probably because it was the 24th, just like today. You always remember a date like today, don’t you?

My wife Hildy and I were doing some last minute grocery shopping at the local Vons a mile down the road when I spotted March in the dairy aisle, ill and exhausted, just standing there and clutching the handle of his shopping cart for nearly a minute. There wasn’t much in his cart, only some eggs, milk and strawberries. And just when I was wondering whether to walk over and help him to get the hell out of that crowded supermarket and back into bed where he belonged, he looked at me and said, “Holly always gets pancakes on a day like tomorrow.”

Just this. Then he turned round and moved on. And since people are idiots, who have all sorts of conventions and automatic responses, I called “Merry Christmas!” right after him, when I knew that he wouldn’t have any.

But I can see that I’m probably boring you with all these details, am I not? Anyway, time to go back inside now, because it’s getting late and a bit chilly.

Have a safe journey, my friend. And take care.

[got7isbasicallyheaven]

Family, friends, feeling (P.3)

Summary: You and Jaebum make breakfast for the boys but something stirring behind the scenes 

Genre: fluff

word count: 2206

[pt.1]  [pt.2] 

Jaebum x reader, (and maybe a surprise …..)

Jaebum heard a knock as his door and it was immediately followed by someone turning the knob. He knew it was Jinyoung since he was the only one with this habit. “Hyung” He said leaning against the frame of the door. “Uh?” Jaebum replied, disinterested and looking at his music sheets. “______ah wants to cook us breakfast. She said she wanted help but I can’t really cook. Do you mind?” Jaebum raised his eyebrows at Jinyoung and knew that his classic smirk hid some sort of agenda. But even in spite of that he said “I guess so.” Jaebum walked to the kitchen where she was already rummaging through the cupboards and fridge to figure out what the boys had on hand. “Looking for something?” Jaebum tried to sound cool as he put his hands in his pockets propping himself against the counter and observing your movements. “Oh. I was just…trying to think of stuff to make. But it doesn’t seem like you guys keep food around” She said laughing and then biting her lip, which Jaebum couldn’t help but look away from. “No we don’t. Its only 7:00am they won’t be up for at least a couple hours…we can go to the 24/7 mart. It’s a little bit farther but it would be the only open right now.” She looked to the ground and rubbed the back of her neck with her hand. “Sure let me just go put on some regular clothes” 

You scrambled to find clothes while also not waking your brother Jackson who was sound asleep in bed. You threw on a white tee and ripped skinny jeans and decided just to wear the shoes you left in the hallway last night. Jaebum sat on the couch playing on his phone; he gave you a heart melting smile when you came out of the room and he gestured for you to follow him out. You walked beside him quietly taking in the morning and fresh breeze rustling your hair. Jaebum looked beautiful in the light he is so handsome you thought to yourself staring up at his jawline. You had been walking in a comfortable silence for nearly five minutes. You liked that he didn’t feel the need to fill up the space; you never liked it when people needlessly wasted words. “It’s about a 20 minute walk. Want to grab an iced coffee or something?” He said turning to you, almost catching you staring at his features. “Sure, but only if I’m paying.” You said trying to sound collected. “If you insist.” Jaebum laughed and your chest tightened at the sight of his grin. I hate this, he’s barely doing anything. You shake your head trying to free your romantic thoughts of Jaebum as he walked ahead of you into the café.

Jaebum pulled the hood of his sweater a little further down and pulled a face mask from his pocket. “It’s nothing personal it’s just sometimes.” “I get it. You’re an idol I understand. I wouldn’t dream of taking it personally. So what do you want me to order?” “Iced Americano and thanks” He said. You could the thanks was more for your understanding of the situation that it was for the coffee. You two walked back onto the street and even though it was still early morning on a weekend the street was getting slightly busier. “Jaebum-ssi if you aren’t comfortable I can just go by-““You’re going to carry enough breakfast for all of us by yourself? Don’t worry.” He said. Looking around it was mostly older people out at the moment, not exactly GOT7 stan material.

You reached the large supermarket and it was busier than you expected but it was mostly moms and grandparents at this time. “So what do you guys like to eat for breakfast?” You said grabbing the small notepad and pen you always carried with you in your bag. “We haven’t had a western style breakfast in a long time. I’m sure Jackson and Mark would like that a lot.” “How about you?” You asked without really filtering it from your mind. Your instinct was to cover your mouth in embarrassment but you suppressed it and let the situation play out. “Whatever you like.” Jaebum casually said as he grabbed a small cart and began pushing it down the aisle. You and Jaebum spent an hour in the store basically goofing around and trying samples randomly picking up snacks you both liked it wasn’t even until you checked your phone that you realized it had been so long. “Oh my god it’s already 9:00am!” You said half laughing and half worried. “Shit! We can take a taxi back to the dorm.” Jaebum said as he gathered all the grocery bags and began to walk to the exit.

Maybe it was the summer sun beginning to peak out or maybe it was the fact the taxi driver had the windows closed but the air was stifling. The taxi driver had some of his own random stuff I the back so you were forced to sit in the middle seat next to JB. Your arm pressed against his and you could feel the humidity creating sweat between your skins. “Sir, could you um maybe turn on the air conditioner?” Jaebum finally said, reading your mind. “Can’t. It’s broken. Same with the windows. They don’t open anymore.” He said in an annoyed voice. “It’s okay it’s less than 10 minutes driving” You said whispering to Jaebum. He touched you’re your knee “I thought I would try.” He smiled and then blushed realizing the placement of his hand and turned to look out the window as you fixed your gaze to the floor. The rest of the ride was silent.

The driver brought you back to the dorm and you and Jaebum proceeded to rush into the apartment. When you got into the dorm Jinyoung was reading on the couch and Bambam was lying on the floor using his phone.  “Took you guys long enough” Jinyoung flatly commented not even breaking a look from his reading. “What where did you guys go? Is that food! God I’m hungry. Noona did you sleep well?” “Oh we just went grocery shopping. And I slept really well. Thanks Bammie.” You said playing with his hair as you walked past him into the kitchen.

She walked past Jaebum into the kitchen and JB used the opportunity to shoot a look at Jinyoung. Who still looked at his book but smiled to himself. “Hyung? Are you okay?” Bambam said staring at his leader’s scowl. “Yeah I’m fine” He walked into the kitchen and admired as _________ laid out all the ingredients neatly and hummed a familiar song to herself. “What are you humming?” He tried to sound casual but it came out more intense than he meant. “Oh it’s just a song from your latest album. I think oppa said it was called ‘Q’ “She said as she began to measure out the pancake mix. Not just a song. My song. Jaebum thought as she continued to hum but a bit more quietly. She looked a little embarrassed but Jaebum thought it was cute. Then again he was realizing he thought everything she did was cute. She’s just a girl Jaebum, get a grip. “So what can I do?” “Well we need eggs and breakfast sausages…so I guess you can start that.” “Yes, chef.” He said winking, then immediately turning around to cover his embarrassment.

His hands brushed over hers as he reached for ingredients or he would bump into her as they tried to manoeuvre the not so large kitchen. And it seemed even smaller as the attraction suffocated them both. Jaebum felt hot. It could just be the stove being on. He thought, but knew well that it was the sight of her cooking and laughing, being playful. They worked together quietly and Jaebum just wanted to say it to her. He didn’t even know what it was, but he wanted to at least try and start something more than passive flirting. “_____-ah.” “Mhm?” She mumbled focusing her attention on flipping a pancake. “I think that-“His sentence was interrupted by Yugyeom’s appearance in the doorway. Jaebum was annoyed but a little thankful since he didn’t know where he was going with that. “Noona~~~” Yugyeom whined and pouted “I’m so hungry.” “We’re almost done Gyeomie. Set the table.” Yugyeom came into the kitchen and grabbed some plates and things for the table bursting Jaebum’s blissful bubble.

When he left to go back into the living room she turned to Jaebum “Sorry. Weren’t you saying something?” She raised her eyebrow at him and her lips were slightly parted. “Oh. Well. Umm…you know. I don’t usually let people do this so soon but since your Jackson’s sister… maybe you could start calling me oppa?” He didn’t even know what was spewing out of his mouth. “Oh…sure. That would…be really nice.” Her face was set aflame with pink blush but Jaebum figured his face was a similar hue based on how warm he suddenly felt. “Do you want some help bringing that in. You two?” Jinyoung stood looking at Jaebum and _______, both unaware that he had overheard their entire conversation. “Yeah thanks Jinyoung.” She said looking to the ground and carrying the very large stack of pancakes.

“They made breakfast!” You heard Jackson say from around the corner. You put the pancakes down and try to fan your face before he could see how red you were from embarrassment (and maybe happiness). Jackson picked you up into a tight hug and spun you around causing you to laugh “Oppa! Put me down.” Using the word suddenly reminded of Jaebum and you were blushing again. “Why are you so red? Am I that embarrassing?” Jackson sad punching you lightly in the shoulder. Mark was the last to join you all at the table and he groggily sat himself in the spot next to you. “This is looks great! You made all of this alone?” He said eyeing all the food. “Umm Jaebum Op- umm… Jaebum helped me.” You looked at Jaebum who tilted his head. You weren’t sure if you were ready to call him oppa in front of everyone. You had just met after all. You didn’t see that Mark shot a look and Jinyoung and Jaebum. Something strange was happening between three of them but no one else at the table really was paying attention as you told a story about your travels in America.

“Well I have a big day planned for us _______-ah. We can go shopping and Oppa will buy whatever you want. Then we can go for lunch at this organic restaurant PD-nim suggested to me. It’s going to be the best day ever.” Jackson went to his room to get ready and you helped Jinyoung and Mark clean up the table as Bambam and Yugyeom got ready to wash the dishes. “You look pretty today.” Jinyoung said as he fixed your shirt as it hung too low off your shoulder. “oh, I-I um thank you.” You blushed but met his gaze and it was filled with a soft affection that made you feel comfortable. Jaebum who sat on the couch watching t.v was listening to all of this. “Well I don’t know how but you even make sweatpants look handsome oppa- oh I mean Jinyoung.” You covered your mouth shocked that the word escaped from your lips. “You can call me oppa. Don’t sweat it ______-ie” Jaebum turned away to look at the window to hide his scowl. Mark made a confused look at Jinyoung and made a very slight look to Jaebum trying to make sure you didn’t notice, and you didn’t of course.

“Okay come on _______-ah we have too much to catch up on. These jerks were stealing all your attention yesterday.” Jackson said slinking his arm around you and guiding you to the door. “Bye everyone!” You yelled waving as you put on your shoes. And you were meet by everyone waving back.

The door closed and Jinyoung, Mark and Jaebum sat in the living room as Bambam and Yugyeom washed dishes and bickered in the kitchen. “What was that?” Jaebum said in a hushed voice so that the maknaes didn’t hear. “She’s not yours hyung.” Jinyoung said matter of fact. “Plus she’ll be calling you oppa soon enough. Since you did ask.” He continued “How do you know ab- you heard us.” Jaebum palmed his face. “You two need to dial it down.” Mark finally interjected. “I’m serious. For her sake. Jackson’s sake. And your own friendship. This whole thing was a terrible idea in the first place.” Jaebum and Jinyoung mostly ignored his warning. And continued, “Jinyoung I don’t really get how you’re playing this game.” Jaebum spat out “I know. I want to keep it that way. And you said you were going to play fair. But anyways…I have somewhere to be.” Jinyoung got up but Jaebum grabbed his wrist, a little tighter than he initially intended “yet.” Was all he said, “What are you saying hyung?” Jinyoung growled pulling his wrist free. “Not mine yet.”

[kissnovel46-blog]

Peanut Butter Kitchen Sink Cookies Caramel, Pretzels, M&Ms, and More

Oh yes, these peanut butter kitchen sink cookies (as in, there’s EVERYTHING but the kitchen sink in them) are amazing! Soft, crunchy, caramelly, delicious!

Weeks ago I asked for your help on Instagram (here’s the plea) to name this over-the-top loaded cookie. And wow, did you ever come through! To the tune of 400+ responses! Even more of you chimed in on this Friday Thoughts post with last minute name suggestions. I have loved each and every one of them (I’ll highlight a few of my favorites below) – and laughed out loud at more than one. You guys are funny. 

But in the end, it seemed appropriate to go with the name that sums it all up in one broad, sweeping title (and by far, the most popular name suggested): almighty peanut butter kitchen sink cookies. 

Soft, chewy, crunchy, sweet, salty, caramelly – this cookie has it all. 

When visiting Montana this summer, my sister-in-law, Erin, made these cookies for us two days in a row (because our greedy hands couldn’t get enough), and I knew immediately my blog wouldn’t be the same until I had a recipe like this on my site. Since then, I’ve made these cookies myself four or five times (including making and serving 150 of them at my cousin’s wedding dinner a few weeks ago), and they have skyrocketed to favorite cookie status. I mean, just look at them! The wow factor is huge.

When I was probably about 10 years old, we lived in Houston, Texas, and my mom had a church responsibility to follow up with the young 19-something missionaries serving in our area. One day she went over there to visit with them (and mostly check to see if their often-neglected apartment was getting cleaned), and they proudly told her they had made cookies and sent them to their families!

Because they had a very sparsely furnished kitchen, she was quite surprised. She politely asked them what kind of cookies they had made. Chocolate Chip. Then she kindly and somewhat gently asked what they had used to make them (they literally only had a couple cereal bowls, plates, and a few utensils). Unabashed, they announced that without the use of a large mixing bowl, they had the brilliant idea to use their kitchen sink to mix the dough! (And then borrow baking sheets from a neighbor.) A few more probing questions from my slightly aghast mom revealed that no, no indeed, the rather grimy kitchen sink hadn’t been scrubbed cleaned before the cookie making endeavor. 

I remember my mom coming home and telling us about this kitchen sink cookie experience and with a furrowed brow wondering out loud if she should somehow alert the families that might be on the receiving end of these cookies?? I have no idea if those cookies ever made it to their destination and what the result was, but I’ve always had a bit of a gag reflex thinking of those kitchen sink cookies from the 1980’s

Thankfully these peanut butter kitchen sink cookies I’m sharing with you today are not literal in anyway (no kitchen sinks were used or harmed in the making of these cookies). They are 100% delicious and totally food safe, I promise. 🙂

If you want to see a whole list of name suggestions, here you go. My 12-year old lovingly compiled this list after reading through the hundreds of Instagram responses. So many great cookie name ideas! I just love you guys. 

Here are a few notable/clever favorites: 

–G.O.A.T. (greatest of all time) cookies -Whatcha-Mel-Callsit cookies (hahaha) -What You Find Under the Carseat Cookie (slightly gross but super funny) -Spanx Busters -Pantry Cleanout or Pantry Raid Cookie -Pretzel Monster Cookies -Mary Poppins Cookie (because Mary Poppins is Practically Perfect in Every Way) 🙂

Other than adding in a bazillion extra ingredients, these peanut butter kitchen sink cookies aren’t any more difficult to whip up than your average, every day drop cookie. 

The soft peanut butter cookie dough base is mixed together (in a stand mixer or using an electric hand mixer) with the flour just barely getting incorporated before adding in all those glorious extras.

Why not?? Here’s what’s going on in these cookies so far:

-toasted pecans (I’m normally a don’t-put-nuts-in-my-cookie kind of gal, but they are super tasty in these cookies! Use them!) -peanut butter chips -chocolate chips -caramel balls (I’m talking about the Kraft brand of unwrapped caramel bits similar in size to large chocolate chips; when I’ve been out, I unwrapped soft Kraft or Trader Joe’s caramels and cut them into pieces with my bench knife aff. link…a labor of love that is totally and completely worth it) -M&Ms (I’ve used regular M&Ms, dark chocolate M&Ms, and caramel M&Ms)

I think you could play with the add-ins to your hearts content. What about:

-other chopped up candy bars (the sky is the limit) -pretzels IN the dough vs just pressed on the outside -other types of chopped nuts -coconut

Once the cookie dough is mixed, roll the dough into balls. Because of all the add-ins, the dough balls won’t be perfectly round. That’s ok. All those lumps and bumps just mean extra yumminess. 

Press the top of the cookie dough into the coarsely chopped pretzels and then turn over and lightly press the pretzels into the soft cookie dough so they stick. Again, we aren’t going for perfection here! These cookies have a rustic porcupine-spiked vibe going on, and I love them all the more for it. 

Of course you can eliminate the pretzels from the cookie lineup, but they really do add that salty crunch that is awesome (and they don’t get soft/soggy after baking). 

These cookies will spread just like other drop cookies…but probably not quite as much thanks to all the bulky add-ins. They are meant to be super soft and slightly puffy.

I’ve given some notes in the last step of the recipe directions about how to end up with a flatter cookie if you want (or, conversely, what to do if your cookies are flattening too much). 

Since these cookies have also affectionately been dubbed “clean out the pantry cookies” – I can’t wait to see what other variations you come up with! You clever and adventurous bakers never cease to amaze me. 

Just in case you end up with more cookies than you deem safe for your self-control OR you need to make a bunch in advance, these baked and cooled cookies freeze great (yep, even with the pretzels). I stack the cookies in between sheets of wax paper in a large tupperware and then take them out of the freezer several hours before I want to serve them. Tasty as the day they were made!

After all this talk about PB kitchen sink cookies, looks like I better go grab a couple out of the freezer just to remind myself how delicious they really are. 

One Year Ago: Monterey BBQ Chicken Pasta One Pot Dinner! Two Years Ago: Fresh Zucchini and Tomato Linguine 30-Minute Meal Three Years Ago: Tender Grilled Pork Chops Four Years Ago: Triple Chocolate Zucchini Cookies Five Years Ago: Good Morning Power Muffins Full of Whole Grains and Superfoods! Six Years Ago: Ebelskivers: Puffy Danish Pancakes Seven Years Ago: Cheesy Zucchini Rice Eight Years Ago: Oreo Cheesecake Bites

Yield: 4-5 dozen

Prep Time: 40 minutes

Cook Time: 10 minutes

Total Time: 50 minutes

Ingredients

1 cup (8 ounces, 16 tablespoons) butter, softened (I use salted)

1 cup (9 ounces) creamy peanut butter (I use Skippy or Jiffy)

1 cup (7.5 ounces) granulated sugar

1 cup (7.5 ounces) packed light or dark brown sugar

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

3/4 teaspoon salt

2 large eggs

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

2 1/2 cups (12.5 ounces) all-purpose flour

1 cup (6 ounces) chocolate chips (I use semisweet)

1 cup (6 ounces) peanut butter chips

1 cup (7 ounces) caramel balls (see note) or chopped soft caramels

1 cup (7 ounces) M&Ms (regular, caramel, etc)

1 cup (4 ounces) chopped, toasted pecans

2 cups coarsely chopped pretzels

Instructions

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F and line a couple baking sheets with parchment paper.

In the bowl of an electric stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment or in a large bowl using a handheld electric mixer, mix together the butter, peanut butter, granulated sugar, brown sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt until well-combined and super creamy, 2-3 minutes, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed.

Add the eggs and vanilla and mix well, 1-2 minutes.

Add the flour and mix briefly until the flour is partly combined. Add the chocolate chips, peanut butter chips, caramel, M&Ms, and pecans. Stir with a wooden spoon or spatula (or mix very slowly with the electric mixer) until evenly combined.

Scoop out several tablespoons of cookie dough (I use a #40 cookie scoop) and roll into balls. They won't be perfectly round as all those add-ins will create some bumps. Don't stress. Press the top of each cookie ball into the chopped pretzels (and then lightly press the pretzels into the cookie dough to stick) and place the cookie dough balls several inches apart on the prepared baking sheets.

Bake for 9-11 minutes. These cookies stay fairly puffy (thanks to all the add-ins); for slightly flatter cookies, press them lightly into more of a disc-shape before baking or bake at 325 degrees F. If, for some reason, your cookies are flattening too much, try increasing the baking temperature to 375 degrees F.

Notes

The caramel balls I'm talking about in this recipe are the unwrapped soft caramel bits about the size of large chocolate chips sold by Kraft (usually in the baking aisle). When I haven't been able to find those, I unwrap soft caramels (either Kraft or Trader Joe's) and cut into pieces with a bench knife. It's a labor of love, but so worth it for these cookies!

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As an Amazon Associate and member of other affiliate programs, I earn from qualifying purchases.

Recipe Source: from Mel’s Kitchen Cafe (inspired from a recipe my sister-in-law, Erin, made for us in Montana this summer)

Disclaimer: I am a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for me to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated sites.

Posted on July 30, 2019 by Mel

Source: https://www.melskitchencafe.com/peanut-butter-kitchen-sink-cookies/

[musingsdeme]

Pantry

Happy Birthday to the absolutely incredible @alullabytoleaveby​.  I am late, but it’s not less filled with love for that.  For your birthday I give you, two dorks in love being domestic as hell.

ao3

Cas reads the cereal boxes.  The backs of them.  The long, indecipherable lists of the ingredients, and the percent daily calcium intake, and the weird little blurbs on the front with weird cartoon characters; Cas reads them all.  He reads them all painstakingly.   Dean knows this because he has been standing in the cereal aisle, watching Cas read the cereal boxes painstakingly for, he looks down and consults his watch, thirteen minutes and forty-three seconds.  It was cute for two minutes.  Cas had that little furrow between his brows and he was squinting as he read.  There was something just fucking…fucking endearing as shit about Cas giving that much attention to fucking breakfast food.  But Christ, it’s been fucking, Dean looks at his watch again, fourteen and a half minutes, and how long can the guy keep critiquing Tony the goddamn Tiger.  

“Casssssss,” Dean whines, “just pick one already, c’mon.”

Almost in slow motion, Cas lifts his head, looks at Dean, and raises one perfect eyebrow as if to say, “excuse you, foolish mortal.”

Dean blinks, for a moment struck dumb by Cas’ cocked eyebrow and challenging expression, before collecting his thoughts and forcing out an eye roll.

“We’ve been here for fifteen minutes,” he points out, “just grab a box and let’s go.  We don’t have all day.”

Cas’ eye brow ticks a centimeter higher because, no, actually, Dean, we do have all day. He’s gracious enough to not point that out.  Instead, he spreads his arms, Frosted Mini Wheats in one hand, Cocoa Pebbles in the other.  He looks vaguely lordly, loose fitting grey sweater, dark washed jeans, five o’clock shadow, and all.

“Dean,” he begins, “You may not have noticed, but we are standing in an aisle devoted to nothing but cereals—”

Oh shit, Dean thinks, here we go. 

“—of different flavors, textures, and dietary benefits, some of which I am not certain are even worth the calories it would take to masticate them.  Did you know—”

Dean looks up to the ceiling, hoping to encounter salvation amongst the obnoxious florescent lights and industrial metal work.  

“—that there no fewer than sixteen flavors of Cheerios alone?”  

He ducks his chin and stares almost conspiratorially at Dean as if there is some secret they both know about the prodigious variety of Cheerios flavors, a dark, disturbing secret.  Dean has no fucking clue what that’s about, and he eyes the Fruity Cheerios warily, his nose crinkling:  now that he thinks about it, they do seem weird …when the hell did they even start making Fruity Cheerios?  Were Fruity Pebbles just not good enough anymore?  And, fuck; Dean’s mouth curls, Apple Cinnamon Cheerios?  That’s like a fucking travesty and insult to pie.  

Wait, no. He shakes his head; he’s not getting sucked into this.

Cas nods sagely at him, apparently pleased that Dean understands that Cheerios, and possibly the entire General Mills corporation, are not to be trusted, and Dean almost bursts out laughing, but catches himself just in time.  He bites his lip instead.  Laughing will only provoke a Rant, Capital-R Rant, the kind where Cas uses “abomination” at least twice to describe relatively mild inconveniences.  

“I’ll grant you, there do not need to be that many flavors of Cheerios,” Dean concedes, Cas smiles, smug.

“But,” Dean continues, “you still gotta pick a box, Cas. If you don’t like it, we’ll get you a different kind next week.  It’s not life or death.”

Cas frowns at Dean, then frowns at the boxes in his hands, and then frowns at the sign for aisle fifteen as if it has personally wronged him.  He grips the boxes harder than necessary.  His mouth twists in frustration.  He places them both back on the shelf, stalks away. Dean grabs the cart handle, ready to chase after him, but Cas returns.  He shoves a box at Dean’s chest.

His face is blank.  Curiously blank.  “Strange celestial being is new to earth and does not understand your silly human customs” blank.  Except Cas is not new to earth, he understands way more than he lets on, and there is a tiny, almost invisible smirk lurking at the corner of his lips.  

He intercepts Dean’s hold on the cart and wheels away, like an ex-angel on a mission, while Dean is left standing in aisle fifteen holding a box of Fiber One Bran Cereal.

“Fiber is important for men of your age, Dean,” Cas calls back as he rounds the corner to aisle fourteen.  Dean blinks down at the box, blinks at Cas, looks up at the ceiling for help.

“Son of bitch,” he mumbles, “good for a man of your—that’s rich coming from someone literally older than dirt!” He yells as a woman and her toddler come around the corner.  

She draws up, offended.  He fumbles the cereal box and blushes, “Not you, ma’am, I was talking to my—that is, I—you’re a beautiful, young, clearly, prime of—”  

She scowls at him, wholly unimpressed.

“Right, so I’m gonna just,” he jerks his thumb behind him, “go now, so you, uh, you have a nice—”  

Dean grabs the nearest box of Captain Crunch as he turns on his heel and half runs half stumbles out of the cereal aisle.  

Cas is not snickering, exactly, but he is contemplating the pastas with way too much glee when Dean rounds the corner.  He’s snickering on the inside.  Dean knows it.  He can feel it.  

He narrows his eyes.   Cas has a bag of Rigatoni in one hand, and a bag of Linguini in the other, in a row filled with at least four different brands and twenty different styles of pasta.  Dean realizes suddenly, with a bone crushing weight of dread, that this is going to be a long, long, long, fucking long ass day.  

God he fucking hates grocery shopping.

*

Dean has legitimate reasons to hate grocery stores.  For starters:  too many people, two few exits.  It’s a goddamn bitch of an unsatisfactory situation in terms of manageable escape routes. Then there’s the aisles: rows and rows and rows and rows and fucking rows of metal shelving, stacked full of boxes, and cans, and who knows what else at least three feet deep.  The damn things are heavy, full, and the space between them too narrow.  If one of the things falls over?  Splat. That’s it.  Game over.  He and every other mother fucker in here will be smashed flat like an Aunt Jemima pancake (two for one in aisle thirteen) in a domino-effect topple.  Don’t even get him started on the grocery carts: more like infant death traps and grown man traffic jams.  He’s seen little old ladies start screaming matches about who could go first through the aisle with their overstocked carts to buy the last can of cranberry sauce.  It was NOT pretty.  

You know what else is not pretty?  Grocery stores.  Everything is beige.  What the fuck is up with that?  The tile is always this weird off white speckled with brown and black, so you can’t tell what’s decorative and what’s dirt.  Sam thinks that Dean’s over exposure to garish motel room décor and livid crime scene carnage has made him wary of anything colored neutrally.  Dean thinks that Sam is not properly appalled by the way that grocery store chains use interior design decisions to potentially mask health code violations.  He’s threatened, on more than one occasion, to dig out his health inspector badge and take it for a spin, but Sam has, so far, managed to put a kibosh on that idea…so far…

Then there is the music.  God, the fucking music.  Could they at least turn on a damn radio station instead of this weird pre-ordained mix of top forty and smooth listening?  Who the hell thought that was a good idea?  Every time he thinks that he’s finally managed to just tune it out enough to be aware of his surroundings and focus on his shopping, an announcement comes on over the speakers five times louder than the music had been, making Dean jump out of his skin and reach for his gun, which would, if he pulled it, cause an entirely new set of issues.  

It would be great if the grocery store sold liquor, and even better if Dean could just casually down shots as he worked his way through his shopping list.  At least alcohol would take the edge off, never mind that he’s supposed to be giving (modified) sobriety a try.

The real thing he hates about grocery stores, the real goddamn clincher, is that Dean has never been inside one when he didn’t feel like he had a target on his back.  

As a kid, he ventured into these places when dad was away on hunts and he and Sam finally ran out of food.  He would take the crumpled up bills that dad gave him, walk the however many blocks to the store, holding Sammy with one hand and a shopping basket with the other.  Dean was good at math from an early age; it’s easy to be good at math when you have to figure out how far you can stretch five dollars for two weeks of food.  The cashiers sometimes looked at him fondly, sometimes suspiciously, and Dean learned quickly that a sure smile would do him a lot better than uncertain eyes.  He walked into grocery stores worried how far the money would stretch; he walked out of them praying what they had bought would be enough and feeling the grown up gazes watching him walk off with his little brother in tow.  Don’t call the cops, he prayed, don’t call the cops.

When he was in his teens, he chanted the same mantra.  Dad’s oversized jacket was Dean’s constant companion.  It pulled chicks and a few boys in hidden corners behind the high school, but it also had deep pockets and an inner lining that made it easy to hide bread and peanut butter, and a small carton of milk.   He would smirk and smile and use two dollars to buy juice, and his jacket to hide the rest.  He hated the families with their full carts and full purses.  He knew it was unfair, he knew it was stupid, but he hated the whole damn store.  There was enough for him and Sammy here and a hundred kids besides, but fucking god forbid if he got caught leaving with a jar of peanut butter.  He sweated more shoplifting the first few times than he did on his first hunt.  If he fucked up on a hunt, Dean got hurt.  If he fucked up stealing, Sammy went hungry.

As a young man, he hated how he got the money to pay for food.  He was proud that he had it, proud that he provided for his brother, provided for himself, but…the money felt dirty sometimes.  There were stains on some of the bills, and Dean knew where they came from, who they had come from.  It made him cringe.  Made him hate the whole damn system.  Not to mention that he was wary enough of the world, by this point, to feel claustrophobic in a store this big, a store with so few doors and too many people, any one of whom could be a monster in disguise.  It made him feel like something was crawling at the back of his neck.  He rushed out of there with his bags in hand and his tarnished pride left behind in the cash drawer.

When he lived on the road with Sam, he avoided grocery shopping.  It wasn’t like they needed food for a nonexistent kitchen.  

When he lived a year with Lisa, she did the shopping.  Dean begged off and she let him.  He was a mess, she was probably afraid he’d start shooting up the place.  

Now he lives in the bunker, which has an industrial kitchen.  Now he lives with Sam who wants all sorts of green, organic tofu nonsense.  Now he lives with Cas who, newly fallen, is experiencing the joys (and disappointments) of food for the first time. Now he is living in a home and discovering that he likes…no, he fucking loves, cooking for his family.  

So here he is, in the grocery store, shopping with an indecisive, very thorough former angel/brand new human, who has never actually tasted…well, anything, and a grocery list that includes about a hundred things, only about half of which Dean’s actually ever seen, and a very, very long afternoon ahead of him.

*

Cas fucking loves the grocery store.  That much is apparent.  Cas likes missions.  He especially likes mission that he chooses himself.  Hence, his careful, tactical, precise contemplation of every item on their list and some besides.  Dean has been a human for going on almost forty years (a man of his age, Cas had said, jerk) and he finds this place overwhelming as fuck.  He’s not sure how Cas is managing.  

“I’ve made a plan,” Cas says, squinting at a bag of Rotini.

“Huh?”

“You asked why I wasn’t more overwhelmed,” Cas responds, “I googled the store layout before we came, cross checked that with our grocery list, and prepared a “plan of attack.””

Dean blinks, impressed, but not surprised.  

Castiel puts the rotini pack on the shelf and picks up a bag of fusili, “I made a flow chart with our planned recipes for the week and our household grocery list, broke that into an ingredient list, organized said list by the products and then adjusted for the organization of aisles at this particular store.”

“That’s intense, Cas.”

Cas shrugs, “I like being prepared.  Which of these is more texturally pleasing?”

“I think it’s less about the texture and more about how the shit absorbs the sauce.”

Cas tilts his head, frowns, and considers the bags of pasta in his hands.

“Which of these do you think has better sauce retention?”

Dean chuckles, “I dunno, man.”

Cas rolls his eyes, “You’re the chef in this family.”

Dean’s heart flutters like it does every time Cas calls them a family, but he tries to put that aside and focus on Cas’ question.  He scrutinizes the proffered bags.

“Hmmm…” He makes a show of squinting at the contents and purses his lips dramatically

“Dean, this mortal life is finite, and I’d rather not waste it contemplating pasta.”

Dean looks up through his lashes, “Says the guy who spent an hour choosing a cereal.”

“It was hardly an hour, Dean,” huffs Cas.

“Sure it wasn’t.”

“Deeeaaaannnn.”

Dean grins up at Cas, “Neither of these.”  

He replaces fusilli and rigatoni with farfalle and penne. Holding each up for Cas before adding them to the cart.

“These ones look like bowties,” he says, “and these you can turn into whistles.”

Cas’ mouth twists, half exasperated, half amused, “And yet neither embodies the quality you suggested we look for in a pasta.”

Dean shrugs, “Like you said, I’m the chef in this family.”

They add four boxes of lasagna noodles because Cas and Dean are making a veggie lasagna for Sam and a lasagna Bolognese for themselves.

“What’s next?” Dean asks leaning over Cas’ shoulder to peer at his list.

Cas smiles at Dean’s proximity, at Dean’s hand on his waist.  Dean smiles because Cas smiles.  It turns into a feedback loop for a moment.

“You wanted to make chili?”

“Yep,” Dean lets the ‘p’ pop obnoxiously.

“Then the canned goods are next.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “Lead the way.”

Cas does.

*

The canned goods aisle gives him the creeps.  For starters, it reminds him of his trip to 2014, when 2014 was years in the future and not years in the past.  He half expects Chuck to appear around the corner, rambling about toilet paper shortages and mass grocery runs.  Secondly, it reminds him of his childhood when he invented over a hundred ways to prepare spaghetti-o’s, only about a tenth of which were actually good.   Thirdly, they weigh down the damned cart like nobody’s business, and if he’s gonna get crushed to death in a grocery store, this is the aisle where it would happen.  

Old habits die hard, so Dean loads down the cart with “worst case scenario the bunker is called the Bunker for a reason” provisions, while Cas squats down to scrutinize canned beans.  

“I don’t understand what the difference is,” he complains.

By the time Dean has made a third trip to deposit an armful of emergency rations to the bottom rack of the grocery cart, Cas has built a small pyramid of black beans each with a different label professing a different brand, preservation technique, or flavoring style.  

Dean’s knees groan when he squats down to Cas’ level.

“I think we would be better off buying beans that haven’t been preserved in large amounts of sodium.”

His mouth twists in disdain. Dean tries really, really hard not to laugh.   He coughs pointedly and clears his throat, while Cas rises quickly to his feet and wheels away dramatically, muttering about heart disease, manufacturing plants, and “not as god intended.”

Dean, much slower to get to his feet, shakes his head and shoves his hands in his pockets, smiling brightly as he follows in Cas’ wake.  

There’s a fifty-fifty shot that Cas will be charmed or disgusted by human inventions.  Dean’s never sure if he’s going to have a Little Mermaid moment or a Smitey McSmiterson rage fest.  Both are endearing because Dean’s just that in love with the dork.  Strolling behind Cas as he mutters darkly about dangerous preservatives like the hipster health nut he so surely is, is so bizarrely awesome that, by the time he makes it to the next aisle, Dean’s cheeks hurt from grinning.

*

Dean is big on samples at the grocery store.  One, because they’re free (duh!).  Two, because they’re usually shit he’s never gonna buy so he might as well enjoy it as a perk for all the shopping related stress.  

He bats his eyes at the little old lady giving out slices of apples, makes small talk with the middle aged man giving out tiny cups of soup, and he grabs five little coffee cups and runs from the exasperated kid at the coffee cart.  

At the deli counter, though, you get to ask for what type of sample you want and they’re give it to you.  

Dean does it for the hell of it.  Cas tries things so that he knows what he likes and doesn’t (Cas’ lack of food experience is a travesty that Dean considers it his mission in life to correct).

Cas’ running commentary and fluid, completely unfiltered facial expressions bring joy to Dean’s life, but generally seem to concern the delicatessen employees.

Dean comes up with a different lie to explain it every time:  amnesia, he recently regained his sense of taste, he just woke up from a coma, he’s ending a lifelong commitment to vegetarianism.  

Today, Dean tells them that Cas was a monk, living a completely aesthetic life.

“Free from pleasures of the flesh,” Dean shakes his head sorrowfully and then wraps his arm around Cas’ shoulder, “that’s all over now, ain’t it, Cas?”

Cas, who has just bitten into a piece of bella donna cheese, moans appreciatively, and Dean laughs until he can’t breathe.

Cas, who enraptured by the cheese, had missed the exchange, and is not sure why Dean’s laughing so hard, places their order with a lot of side eye to Dean.  The poor son of a bitch working the counter has to tolerate Dean’s increasingly hysterical laughter and his increasingly complex array of sexual innuendo about pepperoni and aged cheese.

*

Dean’s favorite section of the store is, without doubt, the bakery.  It smells amazing:  flour and butter and yeast.  There are shelves filled with muffins, trays of pastry fresh out of the oven.  There are bins of bagels in a dozen different flavors, cases of cookies:  chocolate chip, macadamia nut, oatmeal raisin, sugar cookies with sprinkles and icing made to look like animals and characters.  Cupcakes with frosting piled high sit next to cakes ready to be decorated for birthdays and graduations and welcome homes.  

Dean’s never had a grandmother, but he always imagined that if he had had one, her house would have smelled like this, warm and inviting and delicious.

Cas is enraptured by the breads:  all the different shapes and textures and smells.  He sniffs at them with rapturous eyes and listens carefully to the sound they make when he presses down on the crust.  

Dean makes a beeline for the pies.  Ugh, the pies.  Freshly made that morning and gloriously golden even in the shitty grocery store lighting.  He can’t decide between Triple Berry and Apple, so he adds them both to the cart.  Cas makes his own contribution of Italian bread, French Brioche, and a dozen croissants.  He also, with a kiss to Dean’s cheek, add a box of cookies made to look like the bat signal.

“My husband’s the best,” Dean declares, grinning like a moron and holds up the box as proof to the nearest shopper.

She nods bemusedly as Dean scurries to catch up to Cas, squeezing his ass (Cas has a great ass) and kissing his neck when he does.

*

The butcher’s shop is a trial.  Some days, Dean loves it, some days, he remembers the Mark of Cain or the most recent hunt and he feels bile in the back of his throat.  Cas wears a frown not like he’s distressed, more like he’s mentally recreating the physiology of whatever animal they’re looking at and contemplating how best to rebuild it from the parts available, which creeps Dean out, being, himself, a fleshy creature that Cas once rebuilt from available parts.  He pats his own chest, making sure that he’s still intact.

“Dean,” Cas says as he eyes the steaks, “it always surprises me the way in which trade has shaped the evolution of food consumption in this country.”

“Does it?”

“Yes. Just a hundred years ago, if you wanted a cow to eat, you would have had to raise it yourself until maturity and then slaughter and preserve the meat…or, of course, an alternative would be to build a trading relationship of some kind with a neighboring human who raised and slaughtered cows and exchange a different slaughtered animal or material good in exchange for dead flesh.”

“That’s fascinating, Cas.”

“The railroad was instrumental in making trade across long distances possible.  I recently watched a special on PBS in which…”

Dean places their order while Cas continues the economic history and technological evolution of the cattle industry in the US, which segues into his insistence they purchase free range chicken only, and Dean needing to explain that PETA is not really the best organization to join up with if Cas wants to advocate for animal rights.  

*

Cas loves the produce section as much as Dean loves the bakery, if not more. He loves the textures and colors.  He loves his unfiltered ability to touch and investigate everything.  Dean loves watching him explore. It’s a good thing too because it takes him forever to make his way through (that’s why the produce section is their last stop).

Cas holds out herbs for Dean to smell and smiles joyfully at Dean’s reactions, be they sneezes or nods of approval.  He laughs when Dean juggles oranges, charming a nearby child as well Cas with his antics, and giving a theatrical bow when he’s finished.  Cas gives him a kiss and the kid gives him a round of applause, both of which Dean accepts graciously.

He listens to Dean’s opinions of different types of apple with absolute focus, and he shares mini lectures on the uses, both culinary and ritualistic, of different fruits and vegetables and spices.  It takes them over a half an hour to gather all the things that Cas wants to try and all the things Sam had asked for and all the things that Dean knows he likes, but it feels like the quickest stop on their trip because they’re both relaxed.  

*

Dean provides commentary on Okay magazine articles while they wait in the checkout line, thinking of Bobby as he does so.  Cas rolls his eyes good naturedly, digging their reusable shopping bags out from where they’ve been buried beneath their shopping.  Dean is the type of person who goes grocery shopping with reusable bags these days (or, he’s at least married to and brother to people who bring reusable bags to the grocery store).  That’s a thing.  Cas’ extraction is careful and delicate.  Dean helps Cas’ work by providing comedic background noise.  

Dean slips an arm around Cas waist while he proffers coupon after coupon after coupon for the cashier.  She’s a teenager, but she smiles at them the way that Dean smiles at babies:  like they’re the cutest goddamn thing.  He’s not sure how he feels about that:  he’s a grown man after all, but Cas seems entirely unfazed by the adoration.  

The light outside is different when they leave than when they entered:  it’s getting on towards dinner time.  They load their groceries into the trunk of the Impala, send Sam a text with an ETA so he knows to come up and help unload their stuff when they get home.

Cas reaches over and takes Dean’s hand as they pull out of the parking lot, and Dean laces their fingers more securely together, smiling as Cas turns on the radio and they hit the road.

When they get back, Sam helps them unload everything and unpack everything.

Cas rehashes the conversation that he and Dean had had about the meat industry.  Sam, unsurprisingly, perks up eagerly at the topic.

“Have you read Upton Sinclair, Cas?  You might really enjoy it.”

“Woah.  No,” Dean interjects, throwing up a hand, “Not before I make my Lasagna, you’re not.”

“Good point,” Sam says, suitably contrite.

Cas considers them with squinted eyes and then refocuses on Sam, “Sam?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“How much do you know about the General Mills Company?”

Dean busts out laughing, doubles over, and can’t stop for ten minutes (“Dean, this isn’t funny!  This is a very serious concern.”).

When he does finish laughing, he shoos Sam away from the stove, oven, and counter, (he loves his brother, but Sam could literally burn water), and sets him to chopping vegetables.  Dean dons his “Kiss the Cook” apron, puckers up his lips, and Cas obliges him, before returning to his verbal tirade against General Mills.

Dean makes the sauce; Cas makes the pasta; Sam chops anything they need chopped, and keeps their glasses filled with wine.

Dinner is delicious when it’s done.  Warm and filling.  Fresh vegetables, homemade sauce and sautéed meat; the bread is warm and crisp and Dean uses it to sop up the extra sauce on his plate.  They’re all groaning and relaxed by the time they’re done, smiling contentedly.  

Dean surveys his family.  Sam places the apple pie in the oven (“I can turn on the oven and set a timer without burning down the bunker, Dean.”   “This place has survived fifty years but I don’t know if it can survive your cooking.”)

Cas rubs his foot against Dean’s calf under the table and shakes his head fondly at their bickering.  

The pie is as good as it smelled earlier, but it can’t beat how warm and content Dean feels eating it here in this company.  

When the dishes have been cleaned and the (few) leftovers put away, they curl up in the family room.  When Dean kisses Cas, he tastes like apples and cinnamon, and Dean hums in pleasure.

“You know, Cas,” Dean smiles, “I think we might have to go back for more pie.”

Cas shakes his head and smiles, “Next weekend, Dean.”

“It’s a date.”

[entirebodyexercise]

11 best slimming strategies of all time

Fed up with living in a world of diet regimen do n'ts? Are we! That's why we threw all the adverse rules and restrictions gone and also developed the Do Diet, a radical, positive new means to consume, loaded with easy dos in order to help you tone up and also slim down.

1. Get lean with protein Studies show that upping your protein intake could improve your opportunities of weight management success. Researchers at the University of Illinois credit report that dieters who stay with a strategy of 40 percent carbs, 30 percent protein as well as 30 percent fat shed even more weight-- and also especially much more fat-- compared to those who obtain the majority of their calories from carbohydrates. And a research study in the American Journal of Scientific Nourishment discovered that people who included even more protein and also fewer carbohydrates in their dishes consumed 441 fewer calories a day. Make it a habit: At every meal or snack, ask, "Where's the healthy protein?" If you do not check it, add it. A handful of nuts or a number of items of cheese will certainly do the trick. Tip: Pack portable proteins. When you're on the go, keep clever treats like almonds, cheese or simple yogurt within very easy grasp. Match them with fruits, veggies and also whole grains to keep cravings away. 2. Swear by whole grains These grains are nothing short of a diet superfood. Australian scientists recently assessed 25 years of research study and found that people that eat great deals of them have reduced body mass indexes (BMIs) and smaller sized waistlines compared to people who consume only polished grains like those found in white bread, pasta as well as rice. Why are entire grains so superior? They're loaded with nutrients and also fibre, so they take longer to digest, say the specialists. In contrast, fine-tuned white grains strike your system swiftly, triggering insulin levels to quickly increase then drop. You wind up much more weary and also hungry than in the past. That's also why a white-pasta lunch causes an afternoon meltdown at the vending machine. Make it a habit: Following time you get grocery stores, make a deal with on your own. If whole grains don't cover the active ingredients checklist of a grain, pasta or bread, put it back on the shelf. Search for whole wheat, barley, oats, brownish or wild rice, spelt or quinoa. When making pancakes or muffins, make use of a mix of fifty percent whole wheat flour and also fifty percent white-- your palate will not understand the difference. Tip: Beware of imposters. "Enriched wheat flour" is just an elegant name for white, and also multi-grain might simply have a few token grains included. Constantly examine the component listing for the words "whole grains."

3. Fill up on fibre Fibre-- found in fruits, veggies, entire grains as well as vegetables-- is a vital ally in the battle of the bulge. A College of Texas study located that adults who maintain a healthy weight eat 33 percent even more fibre a day than their overweight counterparts. Exactly what's the magic number? In between 25 and also 35 g a day, say the experts. Make it a habit: Eat more foods that have at the very least 4 g of fiber each serving, like raspberries (4 g each half cup), pears (5 g each), kidney beans (12 g per two-thirds of a cup), edamame (8 g each two-thirds of a mug), avocado (7 g each fifty percent) or whole-grain bread (5 g each two slices). 4. Stockpile on one-ingredient foods The much more processed foods you eliminate from your diet regimen, the slimmer you'll be. Why? Processed foods like cheese slices, frozen waffles as well as cool cuts are a lot more most likely to be high in calories, refined sugar and also bad fats and low in nutrients. With unprocessed foods like apples, berries, nuts, edamame or carrots, it's the opposite: they load healthy and balanced fats, vitamins, minerals, fiber and antioxidants. Make it a habit: Every other trip to the food store, prevent the inner aisles totally. Rather, shop the boundary for fresh and frozen vegetables and fruits, meats, entire grains as well as dairy items. To puts it simply, search for tags that specify just one active ingredient or, even better, have no tag at all. Tip: Savour a nude supper. Allow the all-natural flavours of foods radiate through. When you surround a recipe in fancy sauces, you do absolutely nothing yet include calories. Rather, use fresh herbs and spices to period fish as well as meat, or drizzle olive oil and also spray sea salt on veggies.

5. Curb cravings with h2o It's a truth: our bodies frequently error thirst for hunger. So if you're not getting to for water throughout the day, it's just an issue of time prior to you pick cookies or chips rather. As well as don't be tricked: sweet drinks are not a water replacement. One UCLA study found that grownups who have one soft drink a day are 27 percent more likely to be overweight than those who prevent it altogether. Research study additionally reveals that replacing sugary drinks with water suggests consuming fewer calories overall. Make it a habit: Pour on your own some water prior to you take a seat to function at the workplace each morning. And refill that glass promptly each time it's empty! Tip: One small adjustment, big outcomes. Study out of Virginia Tech shows that consuming alcohol two cups of water prior to each dish can translate into consuming to 90 fewer calories per sitting! Water doesn't need to be plain! Flavour it with citrus, cucumber or mint. Profession ice for frozen berries or grapes. Or obtain your fizz solution from club soda.

6. Eat more greens Add illumination to the table by upping your vegetable consumption by at the very least one or 2 portions a day. It's an excellent detoxification strategy (and so far more rewarding as well as healthy compared to attempting to endure on cayenne and grapefruit alone). Professionals suggest having at least one offering (half a mug cooked or one cup raw) of dark, leafy environment-friendlies a day. Our favourite options? Kale, spinach, arugula, collard eco-friendlies and swiss chard. Make it a habit: Attempt arugula instead of romaine in your salad, throw some bok choy right into your following stir-fry or include kale, spinach or any one of these fabulous greens to a soup or pasta sauce. How to pick the best bunch A few guidelines to aid you earn the freshest as well as healthiest leafy greens. 1. Search for brightly coloured fallen leaves and also firm stalks. 2. Pick bunches with smaller fallen leaves-- they're much more tender and also milder in taste compared to larger leaves. 3. Go with in your area grown, organic ranges whenever you can.

7. Begin daily with breakfast How's this for a wake-up telephone call: Studies show that consuming within 2 hours of awakening can aid you reduce weight, do far better at the office and lower your risk of heart problem as well as obesity. People that consume breakfast on a daily basis additionally have a reduced BMI compared to those who do not. Why? Because consuming morning meal is the solitary best method to kick-start your metabolism and also rev up all the systems in your body. Select a power-packed combo of whole grains, healthy protein and fruit or veggies. Extra credit: Those who eat in the early morning are more probable to make healthier food options all the time, while avoiding breakfast increases the appeal of high-calorie foods, reports a research in the European Journal of Neuroscience. You'll additionally benefit if you make morning meal the greatest meal of the day. In a research from Virginia Commonwealth University, individuals who consumed a 610-calorie breakfast rich in intricate carbs as well as lean healthy protein (including milk, whole wheat bread, turkey, eggs and also cheese) for 8 weeks lost greater than 21 percent of their body weight, compared with less compared to 5 percent for the eaters that ate a 290-calorie morning meal. The first team likewise reported less hunger as well as less desires overall. Kick-start the morning Energize the day with these clever as well as satisfying breakfast combos. 1. Poached omega-3 eggs with whole-grain toast and fresh berries. 2. Oatmeal with apple pieces, cinnamon and low-fat milk. 3. Whole-grain French toast covered with plain yogurt and fresh fruit. 4. High-fibre cereal (five grams per offering) with cut banana, a dose of flax seeds and milk. 5. A whole-grain bagel with light lotion cheese and also smoked salmon.

8. Refuel every 3 to 4 hours Now that we have actually morning meal covered, keep in mind that your body needs energy throughout the day to stabilize blood glucose and also protect you from desires. The longer you wait between dishes, the more depleted you really feel and also the much more at risk to temptation you become. Good news: there's no demand to stress that consuming regularly will bring about additional pounds. Study reveals that women who eat on a regular basis throughout the day consume the very same amount of calories as those who eat sporadically, and even fewer.

9. Downsize your dinnerware Do you typically eat when you're hungry as well as quit when you're full? Scientists at Cornell College in Ithaca, New York, credit report that visual signs like plate dimension can substantially affect when you assume you have actually had sufficient. The concept also is true for glasses, snack bowls as well as spoons-- the larger they are, the more difficult your diet regimen will fall. Make it a habit: Usage smaller bowls, plates, glasses as well as utensils. And also dued to the fact that many cereal portions are just one cup and also most bowls could hold two or 3, eat your bran flakes out of a cup instead. At lunch as well as dinner, keep portions in their area, fill half of your plate with dynamic veggies, a quarter with a smart protein (like chicken) and the last quarter with a whole grain or healthy carbohydrate (like a whole wheat bun or half a sweet potato). Serving size cheat sheet Not sure what a part appears like? Below's a simple guide: 1. One serving of meat or fish = a cellphone or a deck of cards 2. One serving of pasta or cereal = a hockey puck 3. One offering of fruits or vegetables = a tennis ball 4. One offering of cheese = your thumb 5. One serving of butter or oil = the tip of your thumb

10. Embrace poaching as well as steaming Sure, baking, barbecuing as well as toasting are great ways to maintain calories under control, but poaching and steaming are real secret weapons of healthy and balanced residence cooks. Why? Since both are easy ways to prevent oil as well as butter during food preparation, without compromising flavour. Poach: Chicken or fish Pour 2 to 3 inches of brew or water right into a lidded pot and offer a simmer. For even more flavour, include a bay leaf, garlic cloves, chopped onion, carrot, celery or even last evening's leftover wine. Include poultry or fish, cover as well as cook quite gently. Steam: Vegetables Cut vegetables right into even-sized pieces. Make use of a cleaner insert or merely add half an inch of water to a lidded pot and also area veggies inside. Eliminate when colours end up being much more vivid and veggies are fork-tender. Tip: Buy an excellent non-stick frying pan. When you utilize top quality kitchenware, you instantly need much less oil, whatever you're making.

11. Detox in seven days Drop those stubborn additional pounds in no time by combining our clever slim-down approaches with this simple seven-day dish plan!

For a lot more slendering tricks obtain your copy of Chatelaine's Whole Beauty guide on newsstands currently.

[365footballorg-blog]

Atlanta City Guide: Everything you need to know for 2018 MLS All-Star

July 23, 20187:26PM EDT

We’re less than a week away from this 2018 MLS All-Star Game presented by Target, and people in Atlanta are already mad at me. There’s no way to get this perfect. What’s beautiful about Atlanta – and one of the many reasons it’s the greatest city in the world – is that inside the sprawl are handfuls of sub-cities, each littered with their own distinctive neighborhoods. And yet a culture persists in all of them that is in someway uniquely, and indisputably, Atlanta.

My Atlanta experience is different than the next Atlantan’s, and that person’s will be different from the next; however, I still feel capable of guiding you through your short stay, hosted by Atlanta United. There will inevitably be disagreements. But if having a discussion about where to go, what to do and what to eat doesn’t devolve into an argument about which is the fourth-best barbecue restaurant in Atlanta (it’s Heirloom), then have we even had a discussion about Atlanta? The good news is, even the fourth-best of things in Atlanta are amazing. You can’t go wrong. I’m just here to give you some ideas.

Where to Eat

Home grown GA | http://www.homegrownga.com/

Let’s start with the basics. After afternoons of attempting to chase down Zlatan to get even the grainiest of pictures of him on your Insta-story (that’s why you’re here, right?) and taking in everything else this week has to offer, you’re going to be hungry. Since there are no other MLS teams in the South [Yet. We see you, Nashville!—ed.], I’m going to assume that if you’re using this guide, y’all ain’t from around here. Fortunately, there are plenty of places to get authentic Southern food or great food with a Southern twist.

Breakfast

If you’re a breakfast/brunch/insane-amounts-of-calories-early-in-the-day person, it’s hard to go wrong going to places like Homegrown in Reynoldstown for their signature comfy chicken biscuit, Ria’s Bluebird in Grant Park for pancakes, The Flying Biscuit Cafe in Candler Park for (duh) the biscuits, and, if you’re on the Westside, the West Egg Cafe. If you get the option to put pimento cheese on anything, do it. If you’re unsure of what that is, you’re just going to have to trust me.

Lunch and Dinner

For lunch and dinner, there are no shortage of incredible options that, in addition to being delicious, will keep you from bankrupting yourself before the end of the trip. More high-end places exist, but if you’re looking for those ,you’re asking the wrong 20-something writer.

My first recommendation is to go to the massive and extremely popular adaptive reuse project known as Ponce City Market, look at Ponce City Market, watch people who don’t know any better go into Ponce City Market, and then as soon as you can, go across the street to the tiny white building known as Eats for an incredible “Meat-and-3” plate from an Atlanta institution. I recommend you get the jerk chicken for the meat and demand that one of your three sides be collard greens.  

If the intro had you wondering what my top three best barbeque restaurants in Atlanta are, I’ll settle this debate quickly: B’s Cracklin is third, Community Q is first and somewhere in the middle is Fox Bros. All three are phenomenal though.

If you’re looking for a burger and fries, the standard in Atlanta is at Holeman & Finch Public House. Famously, the restaurant sells just 24 of their double cheeseburgers each lunch and dinner. If you don’t want to work that hard for a burger, you can head to their always open Ponce City Market location if you really want to, or you can just find the nearest Grindhouse for a cheaper and equally delicious option. For some of the best fried chicken in America, find a spot at Busy Bee Cafe, The Colonnade or the famous Mary Mac’s Tea Room.

If you can’t decide what you want and you’re looking for multiple options all in one place, Krog Street Market and Sweet Auburn Curb Market have you covered. For ethnic cuisine, head to the legendary Buford Highway and take in any of the 1.3-mile road’s diverse restaurants, especially Pho Dai Loi 2 for incredible Vietnamese.

Late Night

If you’re up late, leave where you’re staying and walk either a half mile to the left or a half mile to right. Either way you’re going to run into a Waffle House. If you’ve never had the pleasure of a late-night trip to Waffle House, you won’t truly be able to appreciate the South until you do. Other options include the Cookout on Moreland Avenue (entirely better in every way than the one on Ponce De Leon), Midway Pub in East Atlanta Village or Delia’s Chicken Sausage Stand.

Speaking of late night . . . 

Where to Drink

The best way to attack Atlanta at night is to go by neighborhood. For a more low-key night, head to East Atlanta Village or Poncey-Highland (which includes the famous Clermont Lounge). For a solid mix of college kids, hipsters and clubs check out Old Fourth Ward. Decatur has plenty of options. Midtown is extremely LGBTQ+ friendly. Head to Buckhead to waste all of your money. Little Five Points and Virginia Highlands each have their own popular hangouts. Like with food, it’s hard to go wrong going out anywhere in Atlanta. Everyone is welcome everywhere.

Additionally, you can take some time to take in some of the South’s best breweries such as Monday Night Brewing, Torched Hop, Sweetwater, Orpheus and Second Self to name a few.

Now if you’re trying to drink a little earlier and catch a match . . . 

Where to Soccer

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Brewhouse Cafe in Little Five Points, one of Atlanta United’s official pub partners, is the most popular soccer bar in town. Midway Pub and Elder Tree in East Atlanta Village both have plenty of scarves on the walls. As an added bonus, Elder Tree houses one of the best and most dangerously seductive drinks in Atlanta with its EAV Sweet Tea.

Meehan’s is an excellent stop if you’re downtown and if you happen to be a Liverpool supporter. Fado Irish Pub locations in Midtown and Buckhead will always have a game on.

If you’re hoping to get into a game rather than watch, check out our now world-famous 5-a-side pitch at the Five Points MARTA Station. You can also bring a ball to the gorgeous Piedmont Park fields and join a game there.

What Else to See and Do

Posing in front of the Innovation Mural on the Beltline. | Courtesy of Atlanta United

Go to Sweet Auburn and visit Martin Luther King Jr.’s house and the King Center. Go see some of the best street art in the world – use the handy map provided by StreetArtMap.org, and checklist these ATLUTD-themed specials:

Go catch a concert at The Masquerade, or Aisle 5, or The Tabernacle or one of the many other brilliant venues. Look at all the used chicken wings on the ground and wonder how they got there and why there are so many of them.

Go to Centennial Olympic Park, remember that Atlanta once hosted the Olympics, and then shell out some money to visit some of the more touristy yet still awesome attractions around the park, like the Georgia Aquarium and other museums that happen to be just down the road from Mercedes-Benz Stadium. Take a short trip up I-75 and climb Kennesaw Mountain for one of the best views in the state.

Walk The BeltLine. Go to Jackson Street Bridge at sunset for the customary picture of Atlanta’s skyline. Go to church organ karaoke at Sister Louisa’s. Go to metal karaoke at Dark Horse. Go see a bad movie at The Plaza Theatre. Get a Frosted Orange at The Varsity.

Go the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. Drive and stay in your car to catch a movie at Starlight Six Drive-In Theater. Get a popsicle from King of Pops. Go find the Dungeon Family House.

Ask a random stranger on the street what to do, they’ll tell you 50 more things. You won’t get bored here, I promise.

How to Get Around

Courtesy of ATLUTD.com

Traffic can be a slog – build in time. Note you can take MARTA straight to the Benz [My ATLUTD season-ticket-holding brother-in-law confirms it’s the best route on gameday.—ed.] And if you’re up for a bike, you can always Ride the Stripes thanks to Atlanta United and Relay Bike Share.

How to Prepare

Know the culturally appropriate response to “Knuck if You Buck” if it comes on. Listen to as much OutKast and Pastor Troy as possible. It’s spelled “y’all” not “ya’ll”. We reserve the right to banish you to Florida if you say “Hotlanta”. Be prepared for Atlanta United fans to be welcoming, hospitable and completely smug about our incredible team and culture. Grits are just ground corn.

That pretty much covers it. Welcome to Atlanta.

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Atlanta City Guide: Everything you need to know for 2018 MLS All-Star was originally published on 365 Football