#would eat a whole rotisserie chicken in one sitting for sure

[how2bmotorized]

what a dude (his species thang is by @jeebusmeebus ,,,)

[sparkle-fiend]

Steve loves Valentine’s Day.

It’s a holiday celebrating love and romance; the whole point is to shower someone with affection (and hopefully get laid at the end of the night). What’s not to like about that?

With girls, Valentine’s was easy. Big box of chocolates, a dozen red roses, dinner at a fancy restaurant (and maybe a little jewelry or something - depending on how much he likes her). A sweet card, for sure.

Now that he’s dating Eddie, Valentine’s Day presents more of a… challenge. 

“Ugh, what am I gonna do Rob? We walked through the greeting card aisle at Melvald’s and he pretended to puke. He doesn’t want flowers or chocolate or anything.”

He knows he’s whining. He’s slumped dramatically in the single office chair in the Family Video breakroom, spinning slowly (like a pathetic little rotisserie chicken, according to Robin). He’s probably got about five more minutes before Robin snaps.

“Why do you have to do anything? You know Valentine’s Day isn’t even a real holiday – it’s just an excuse to get people to spend money on crap they don’t need…”

“Oh my god, stop! You sound just like Eddie. Valentine's isn't about spending money, it's about... showing people that you love them. Making them feel happy and appreciated and special. It’s about celebrating love.”

Robin tilts her head and her face goes a little soft, the way it does when he says something she wasn't expecting (but in a good way, not like when he says something so dumb that her body collapses and she says he's obliterated her will to live). 

"That’s actually surprisingly sweet Steve. Okay….” she sighs and looks up at the ceiling as she thinks. “Maybe... you could try making something? He liked those cookies you baked for movie night." 

“Those cookies were terrible.” Practically inedible. Eddie was the only person that ate more than one. (Which was either a true declaration of love in and of itself, or proof that Eddie will eat literally anything when he's stoned.) 

"I don't know, Eddie is pretty easy to please. You could give him like... a cool rock, and he would probably love it." 

Steve sits upright so fast he nearly overturns the chair. "Robin, you're a genius!!" 

She blinks at him. "Clearly. But also, why exactly?" 

Eddie is like a crow. He's forever picking up little odds and ends - cool rocks, stickers, shiny bits of paper. At Christmas, he collected the bows off of everyone's presents. Sometimes, he incorporates the stuff he finds into little props and models for his D&D games, but other times he just keeps it. He's got a whole drawer devoted to his little 'hoard', as he calls it. 

Steve explains all this to Robin, who just shakes her head in bemusement. "He is so weird," she says fondly. 

"Yeah," Steve agrees. He would have recoiled from that oddity in high school - would have been worried what other people would think. Scared they would judge him for associating with someone like that. 

He doesn’t give a shit, these days. He sees the way Eddie lights up with happiness at the smallest things, so full of excitement and passion, and it just makes him smile. He feels grateful that he gets to bask in that reflected joy, like a flower soaking up the sun.

Valentines is two weeks away, which gives Steve plenty of time to collect a bounty of little treasures. He hits the pawn shop, the thrift store - he even drives out to the weird antique shop about an hour out of town, which looks like a normal house on the outside and is crammed to the rafters with knick-knacks and bric-a-brac when you walk inside. 

He also trawls the quarry, the lake, and the woods behind his house. It's tough, because usually Eddie's little treasures just look like trash to Steve. He's not a very creative person himself, but he tries hard to see the world the way his boyfriend would. 

If that means Steve finds himself debating for over half an hour on which rock is more appealing, well – it will all be worth it in the end.

———

Steve stays over at Eddie's, the night before Valentines. (At this point, he spends more time at the Munson's house than he does at his own.) 

He wakes up early, slipping out of bed with slow, careful movements. As usual, Eddie rolls over with a faint grumble, bundling himself into a burrito of blankets to compensate for the void of warmth left by Steve's absence. 

He moves down the hall, avoiding each creaky board like it's a booby trap in the Temple of Doom, until he reaches the kitchen - which is where Steve breaks routine. He sneaks out the back door and races across the driveway in his boxers, hopping and cursing as the frigid gravel stings his bare feet. 

His carefully cultivated stash of gifts is in the glove compartment of the BMW. He already has a plan for which one will be first, so he grabs it and closes the door (slowly, slowly - the sound of Steve moving around the house is familiar, but a car door slamming in the driveway at this time of morning would wake Eddie for sure). 

The first gift is a blue jay feather he found in the woods, perfect and clean with vivid blue and black stripes. He tucks it carefully under the edge of the ash tray that sits on the porch railing, before slipping back inside to start breakfast.

Thirty minutes later Eddie appears, drawn by the warm smell of coffee and the sound of bacon popping in the pan. 

He drapes himself over Steve's back and murmurs, "G'mornin," sleepily into the shell of his ear, the way he does every morning after Steve spends the night. This time, Steve balances his spatula on the edge of the pan and turns so that he can wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. 

He presses a cheerful kiss to the corner of Eddie's mouth and says, "Happy Valentine’s Day." 

Eddie groans dramatically and throws his head back, the rest of his bodyweight following. If Steve didn't have a firm grip around his waist, he would have toppled over backward; the move turns into an awkward backbend instead. 

"Stevie please, it's too early for that crap. Wait until I've had my coffee at least." 

Steve grins. He releases his hold just long enough for Eddie to yelp and scrabble for balance before catching him and pulling him close again. 

"Jesus Christ," Eddie gasps. 

"Careful," Steve says with a smug grin, laughing when Eddie shoves him in the chest and pulls away.

They eat breakfast together, and then Steve follows Eddie outside for his morning cigarette. 

"Holy shit, look at this!" Eddie turns to Steve with the blue jay feather pinched between his fingers, grinning with delight. He hasn't brushed his hair yet and he's got a smear of bacon grease on his cheek, but he's so beautiful in that moment - so full of joy it shines out of him, like a lighthouse.

Just because he found a feather. Steve smiles back, helplessly besotted. "Pretty cool." 

Eddie twirls the feather between his fingers before tucking it behind his ear. “That’s a sign that today is gonna be a good day.”

Steve presses his mouth to the edge of his coffee cup to hide his expression. “Yeah, I think so too.”

———

Eddie rolls into the Family Video parking lot around 2 in the afternoon to visit before his band practice. He strolls inside and leans against the counter, plonking a silver wrapped Hershey kiss down in front of Steve. 

“Kiss for a kiss?” he says, with a smarmy grin. Steve rolls his eyes, but he checks to make sure they’re alone in the store before swooping forward for a quick peck on the lips.

“I got you something too,” he says.

“Oh?” Eddie raises one eyebrow, managing to look both curious and skeptical. “Please tell me it’s not a cheesy greeting card.”

Steve flips him the bird before reaching into his pocket. He pulls the keychain out and lets it dangle from one finger in front of Eddie’s face.

His boyfriend’s immediate reaction is to wrinkle his nose in disgust. The keychain is a garish red plastic heart, definitely the antithesis of Eddie’s usual metalhead vibe.

But it’s also sparkly. 

Steve’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk as Eddie takes the keychain from him, reluctantly admiring the way light sparks off the flakes of holographic glitter embedded in the plastic. The cheap little thing shimmers like a ruby in the afternoon sun.

“Some kid dropped it. They never came back, so it’s yours if you want it.” (That’s technically true, although Steve has been holding on to it for nearly a month now, waiting for today.)

“Oh, well then.” Eddie stuffs the keychain into his pocket. “Finders keepers, losers weepers!” He sticks his tongue out, eyes wide and exaggerated – then leans across the counter and licks Steve’s nose.

“Gross!” Steve sputters with laughter. He scrubs at his face and looks up just in time to see Eddie wave jauntily on his way out the door, a second Hershey kiss left sitting on the counter in his wake.

———

After Steve's shift is over, he runs home for a quick shower and a change of clothes before meeting Eddie at the diner. 

He did his best to talk his boyfriend into going on a proper date, but the most he could get Eddie to agree to was milkshakes and a movie (my choice Stevie, not some lame romance).

Steve walks into the diner and spots Eddie at the back booth. He saunters over and sets the third present onto the sticky Formica table with a click. It's a small golden gear, nearly paper-thin. 

"Check it out. Found this in the parking lot." 

(That's a lie. Steve carefully picked apart a broken old watch from the thrift shop in order to extract a handful of the little gears.)

"Hey, cool! I bet I could use this in the model I'm working on." Eddie pulls the pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket and drops the gear inside for safe keeping. 

"What's the model for?" Steve asks.

Eddie launches into an animated explanation of the character he's creating for a new Hellfire campaign - a sun-worshiping priest that intends to trick the party into becoming a ritual sacrifice. 

"... and that gear thing would look pretty good on the top of his staff." 

Steve doesn't understand much of what Eddie's saying, but he loves the way his boyfriend talks with his whole body, moving his hands and shoulders and head along with the words. He rests his chin in his hand and lets Eddie ramble until the milkshakes arrive, smiling like a dope the whole time.

Eddie has no concept of time, so Steve is in charge of making sure they finish their milkshakes and leave the diner in time to make it to the movie. As Eddie slides into the passenger seat of the BMW, he says, “Hey – you think we have enough time to stop by the Circle K?”

Steve turns in his seat as he reverses out of the parking lot. "What do you need at the Circle K?" 

"Snacks! You can't go to a movie without provisions Stevie! And don't say we can buy some at the concessions stand, because the prices they charge are ridiculous."

“Well if we stop now, we’ll be late – but I’ve got some Milk Duds and trail mix…” Steve doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. Eddie pops open the glove compartment in his search for snacks, revealing Steve’s little stash of gifts. 

Eddie frowns in confusion. “What the hell?” He rifles through the pile as Steve groans.

“Shit. You weren’t supposed to see those yet.”

“What is all this?” Eddie picks up a ring, turning it over in his hands. It's a bulky silver biker ring, like the ones Eddie wears every day - only this one is shaped like a bat with tiny ruby eyes. Steve is particularly proud of that one, discovered in a box of assorted rings at the pawn shop.

Steve gnaws at his lip and runs a hand through his hair, ruining all his careful styling. "I know you hate Valentines, but I wanted to do something. Just… to show you how much I love you. So instead of the cards and flowers and stuff, I tried to find little things you might actually like. For your, you know… your 'dragon hoard' or whatever you call it."

"So the keychain and the gear..."

"And the feather."

Eddie's eyebrow twitches. He stares at the contents of the glove compartment; at the water smoothed stone from the lake and the multicolored twist of ribbon, the vivid green marble and the tiny mother of pearl locket. He looks down at the ring still clutched in his hand, and blinks rapidly. 

Steve glances nervously between Eddie and the road, hands tight on the steering wheel. He's disappointed that the surprise has been ruined, but more concerned about Eddie's reaction. He'd expected the other boy to laugh or tease him, not this... whatever this is. 

Finally, Eddie clears his throat roughly and speaks. "Actually, can we just head back to my place? I've got something I wanna show you, and I don't think I can wait through the movie." 

“Uh… sure.”

Steve's brain is buzzing as he takes a left instead of a right at the intersection. He's worked himself into a bit of a panic by the time they pull into the Munson's driveway. "Eddie, I..." 

Eddie interrupts him, practically throwing himself across the center console as he drags Steve into a fierce kiss. By the time Eddie lets him go, Steve is panting. "Wha...?" 

"Wait here," Eddie says with a wild grin. He presses Steve back into the seat for emphasis. "Don't move." 

He takes the steps up the porch two at a time and fumbles with his key to get inside as Steve watches in a daze. He has no idea what's going on. 

After a few minutes, Eddie returns to the door. He's pulled on a t-shirt with a faux tuxedo printed on the front, and he's standing straight backed in the doorway with a towel over his arm, like some kind of maître d’. He waves grandly toward Steve, beckoning him toward the house. 

Steve snorts with laughter as he climbs out of the BMW. “What are you doing?” 

"This way sir," Eddie replies in a terrible attempt at a posh English accent. Steve shakes his head, thoroughly bewildered and increasingly amused. 

He walks past Eddie through the doorway and freezes in surprise.

The living room has been transformed. Eddie set up the gaming table in the middle of the room – set with a crisp white tablecloth, the Munson’s best dishes, and a vase full of red roses sitting in the center of the table, flanked by two candles. More candles twinkle softly from the coffee table, the end tables - even on top of the tv. 

"Eddie..." Steve whispers in awe. "What is this?" 

"Well, ah... I kind of jumped the gun a little. It’s supposed to be a candlelight dinner. If we'd gone to the movie, Wayne would have had time to get all the food set up. But it won’t take long, I already cooked everything. Just gotta heat it up."

Steve’s vision goes watery, smearing the candlelight into one big blur as tears fill his eyes. He blinks hard to clear them. “I thought you hated all this stuff.”

Eddie shrugs and rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Well, yeah I do. But you love it. So I wanted to surprise you.”

Steve grips his boyfriend by the front of his ridiculous t-shirt and pulls him into a bone-cracking hug, before pulling back just far enough to kiss the breath from him. 

In a pause between kisses, Steve rests his forehead against Eddie’s and laughs a little breathlessly. “What made you change your mind about the movie?”

Eddie bites his lips, already swollen from kisses. Steve can’t tear his eyes away.

“I don’t know. When I saw all that stuff you collected for me…” he clears his throat, staring at Steve with wide dark eyes. “I’m… I know I’m weird. I’ve known that my whole life. I never thought I would find anyone that would tolerate me, let alone… celebrate me like that.”

He kisses Steve again, sweet and soft. “I couldn’t sit and wait for two hours after that. I had to get you home and show you how much I love you.”

“I love you too.” Steve smiles against Eddie’s mouth. “You know… I’m not really hungry yet.”

“Oh yeah?”

Steve trails his hands down Eddie’s chest, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and tugging. “Mm-hmm. I think we need to work up an appetite first.”

Eddie laughs in delight. “Sounds like a good idea. You know how much I like dessert before dinner.”

A happy Valentine’s Day indeed.

[skzsauce01]

What Was I Made For

Synopsis: College is hard, but it's even worse when you're a pre-med student and it's even, even worse when you don't want to go into medicine. Fortunately, the ghost that haunts your apartment is more kind, more annoying, and more helpful than you ever thought possible. College AU, ghost AU.

Warning: alcohol, bad parental relationship, mentions of death

Word Count: 6.2k

Pairing: f!reader x ghost!Kim Seungmin

A/N: Good luck with exams and classes!

“Honey, I’m home,” you call. The handles of the reusable grocery bag you picked up from a club booth at the beginning of the semester are already starting to fall apart, so you’re forced to flip on the light switch with your shoulder blades. You glare at Seungmin, who is lounging on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “Could you at least pretend to help?”

“What’s the point? I can’t even eat whatever you bought.”

You sigh and set down your haul onto the tiny kitchen island that doubles as a dining table. When you make a big production of taking out your groceries, Seungmin still doesn’t look up. Despite his inability to eat food, he usually shows some interest, if only to judge your snack choices.

On the counter, bananas in a plastic produce bag to prevent fruit flies, and a new roll of paper towels. On the top shelf of the fridge, a tub of Greek yogurt that Seungmin makes fun of you for liking. Assorted salad mixes in the crisper. A whole rotisserie chicken and a carton of eggs on the middle shelf. In the cabinet goes a party-sized bag of barbeque chips, a pack of chocolate chip cookies you don’t want to discuss how much you paid for, and a box of protein bars. 

You take the last item out of the bag and hide it behind your back. You hover over Seungmin. “Guess what I got?”

“A bag of potatoes that will grow spuds because you can’t finish them all.”

“That was one time! Try again.”

He guesses wrong again and again, so after the fifth attempt, you hold your prize in front of his eyes. “A better vegetable peeler, just like you told me to. Are you proud of me?”

For a moment, his sullen eyes brighten at the memory of you struggling with your old peeler. He watched with great amusement as the flimsy blade repeatedly got caught on carrot skin and you grew more infuriated with each catch. In the end, you gave up and ate the skin, fuming with each bite of your meal. Seungmin laughed so hard, you thought he would lose control of his physical form and slip through the floor. 

He sighs, all of the joy escaping through his lips. “Yeah, sure. Sorry, it’s just one of those days.”

“We all have them. Hey, why don’t we do something tonight? I’m done studying, so we can watch a movie or play Mario Kart or something.” You plaster a smile on your face. “Fun, right?”

“You’re never gonna get into med school if this is how you work.”

Despite his admonishments, he sits up and swings his legs off the couch to make room for you. He didn’t choose an activity so Mario Kart it is. You leave your peeler on the coffee table and grab your joycons. When you flop beside him, tossing the blue one in his lap, he grumbles as he’s jostled around.

“I don’t even wanna go to med school,” you remind him. He already knows since it’s all you complain about these days as the MCAT draws closer, but that’s never stopped you from repeating yourself.

“Wow, what a problem. I’d die to go to med school.” 

Without thinking, you snort. “Too late for that.”

Seungmin has been dead for nearly two years. The old apartment complex burned down in an electrical fire, and due to the housing demand in the area, the university quickly built a new one in its place. Sure, you suspected it was probably haunted, but rent was on the cheaper side, especially for a single room, so you moved in and learned about your unofficial roommate during your first night. You thought you were going to faint when you saw a stranger leaning over your stack of practice books, and you thought you were going to be killed when he simply said, “I was also pre-med.”

“Sorry,” you meekly say. Why is the Mario Kart music so cheerful? It would be worse if it was sad, but the upbeat tune just makes your mistake more poignant. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he interjects. “Doesn’t matter. You better not pick Birdo this time.”

While you normally would have fought him six ways from Sunday for Birdo, you choose Yoshi instead and pick his favorite circuit to start off the night. He makes no comment about your sudden generosity, but you both know the reason. There’s no such thing as pity in this household, but apologies are aplenty.

When you come back from your anatomy lab the following day, whatever guilt you felt is gone when Seungmin holds up your pack of cookies with a disapproving look. You must have forgotten to put it back in the cabinet before you left. Either that or Seungmin rummaged around your belongings when the roommate contract stated that he could not and would not.

“You seriously paid for these?” he says. 

“They’re good! And artisan,” you huff as you snatch the package from his hands. You hope you didn’t crush any cookies in the process. “I support small businesses.”

“They haven’t been a small business or artisan in, like, twenty years. How did the cat dissection go?” 

You reach for an overpriced cookie and snap off a piece with more force than necessary. “Fine. A little gross, but I guess I’m used to that by now. You wanna see the pictures I took?”

He tries to feign nonchalance, but his body seems more substantial, less ghost-like as you scroll through your camera roll. Even though he oohs and aahs at the most inappropriate images—you really don’t think the digestive structures of a cat deserve that much admiration—you can’t help but smile. He hasn’t looked or sounded this lively in weeks. You thought it might have been your snark rubbing off of him, but he always has a biting remark at the ready, remedied only with his good-natured demeanor. Of course, that demeanor has been slowly crumbling, so to see him be his usual self again feels good.

Satisfied, he lets you take your phone back. “Sometimes I miss lab. I hated doing the lab reports though; have fun with that.”

And just like that, your happiness goes out. “That’s tomorrow’s problem. I should study before work. You wanna help me out? I hate physics.”

Look, if your roommate were a pre-med student, had unlimited time, and no other obligations, you would force them to help you study, too. Plus, Seungmin loves MCAT practice, so it’s a win-win.

To your surprise, he doesn’t jump at the opportunity like he typically does. Under normal circumstances, he would be scouring the living room for where he last left his flashcards. Instead, he says, “Why don’t you take a break?”

“A break? You, of all people, suggest that I take a break when you were just telling me about my bad study habits? Who are you, and what have you done with Seungmin?”

He rolls his eyes. “I didn’t realize you wanted to do physics that badly.”

“I don’t. This is weird from you though.” However, after a moment of contemplation: “Whatever. Pick a show to watch. I’m gonna draw.”

He selects House because he’s still Seungmin after all. This is the show that inspired him to go into medicine, and is, as he’s mentioned many times before, “the greatest show on the planet.” It’s entertaining, you admit, and you do like seeing all of the obscure medical cases Dr. Gregory House solves, but it’s a grim reminder of your parents’ dreams for you. With the dialogue of the characters echoing in your head, you sketch a frog sitting on top of a stack of pancakes. You initially bought your tablet for note taking, but it really is much better as a tool for art. 

“It’s always animals, plants, or dessert now,” Seungmin remarks, craning his head to get a better view while you continually pull your screen away. “What happened to your big fantasy pieces?”

“Rule one: no looking until I say so. Rule two: no questions unless I say so. Remember?”

He ignores you. “You used to do a lot of those things when you first moved in. With the crazy landscapes, guys with abs in crop tops, cat-ear ladies with fancy dresses, villains who you definitely wanted to—”

“I get it!” Your face is blazing. He makes your artistic—purely artistic—interests sound so much worse than they are. “I’ve just been busy with life, so I don’t have time to work on them anymore. Anyway, animals, plants, and desserts are cute.” In a smaller voice, you add, “And they make me happy.”

Just like pictures of a flayed cat makes him happy.

He goes quiet and lets Dr. House fill the air. While he pretends to be engrossed in the show, you turn back to your sketch to fix your frog’s eyes to be less downcast. No sad frogs allowed.

You don’t remember exactly when the dread began, but you do distinctly remember glancing over the syllabus for your genetics course and wanting to collapse. Each item was manageable by itself, but the totality of the class, of your future classes, of your future hurtled at you at full force. For so long, you convinced yourself you could do it. You would complain the whole time, but at the end, you would be addressed as ‘Doctor’ and you would be happy. Your parents would be happy, so you would be happy and realize that it was all worth it.

Even if you cried every night, it would be worth it. 

You took a deep breath, looked at the list of assigned textbooks, and pulled out your credit card. You went through more dire situations than this stupid course. This would be easy enough.

Two weeks after the art fiasco, you finally test out your new vegetable peeler on potatoes. Your friend gave you five for free since she was having trouble finishing the large amount she bought. While you stand over the sink, humming a song your neighbor has been practicing for the past week, Seungmin is hunched over the coffee table, doing something secretive with flashcards. He’s been working on a new set of them since the art fiasco, which makes no sense since you have a perfect set of a thousand that you bought online. But no, he has been toiling day and night to create handmade ones. You don’t even want to know where he got the supplies.

Well, you already know where and how, but if your neighbors come knocking, you know nothing.

In fear that you’ll “ruin the surprise,” you have been forbidden from even stepping foot onto the living room carpet. Really, there’s no point because you can get a glimpse if you lean across the island. Nevertheless, you keep your eyes on the growing pile of potato skins. You have five potatoes worth of fries to make.

Ten minutes later, when you have moved onto slicing, Seungmin declares that he’s done. He places the baking sheet you left on the island onto a chair and triumphantly sets down his masterpiece.

When you pick up the topmost one, you can’t help but smile. Alongside the words “absolute threshold” is a cartoon rabbit with alert ears. Tiny music notes are dotted on the top edge of the card. 

“To make your studies less stressful,” he says. 

You don’t have the heart to tell him that you’re always some degree of stressed but nevertheless thank him. The flashcards are adorable, even if Seungmin’s drawing skills aren’t the best. “Newton’s first law” has an indistinguishable creature kicking a ball, and “law of independent assortment” features some of the strangest plants you have ever seen.

“I love them.”

“What do you think of my art skills? Better than you, right?”

You laugh and turn back to your cutting board. “You should’ve considered art school instead of med school. Professional artist Seungmin,” you muse. “I can see you in galleries and museums.”

“Don’t forget the history textbooks. Why didn’t you consider art school? You would be perfect for video games or something.”

For some time, you did consider art school. You spent the first two years of high school daydreaming about sitting behind an easel, translating a model’s likeness onto paper. Perennial paint splatters on your jeans, permanent charcoal stains on your fingers—that was the only way you wanted to study human anatomy. 

“My parents. You know how it is. Can you season the fries in the bowl?”

While Seungmin dumps copious amounts of salt, pepper, and whatever random spices he picked from the cabinet, you reflect on your teenage self. A part of you knew that drawing would only be a hobby, but another part kept hoping your parents would come around. When Hyunjin’s parents announced he was going to study chemistry, your mom wondered why he didn’t choose art when he was such a good artist. In fact, half the neighborhood, whose children went into STEM fields one way or another, were shocked he chose chemistry. Of course, if their own kids had opted for non-STEM majors, they would have been livid. Just like your parents had been.

“Did you ever think about not going into medicine?” you ask as you add more potato slices into the bowl.

He adds a swirl of oil to the mix. “No. It’s all I ever wanted to do. I volunteered at the hospital in high school, got an internship at a clinic here. I was studying for the MCAT and then…”

And then the university’s outdated housing killed him. It sounds horrific when phrased like that, but it’s more truthful than “Promising Young Pre-med Student Kim Seungmin Dead After Apartment Fire,” as the city newspaper headlined. His student ID photo smiled earnestly at readers, and a recent picture showed him posing in a lab coat.

It hits you then. Seungmin is dead. You knew this logically; you saw the articles, passed by the vigil, and signed the student letter demanding better accommodations. Then you forgot his existence until you applied to live in this building and when he appeared in your bedroom, you forgot about his death. Despite witnessing him walk through walls and tiptoeing around his deceased status, Seungmin has never really been dead to you. He’s your roommate who sleeps in the living room, your study partner who loves all things related to biology, or your friend. He’s too alive to be anything else.

“Did you preheat the oven?” he asks, breaking you out of your spiraling thoughts. Your body went on autopilot, and now the baking sheet is covered in pale potato sticks.

You glance at the dark oven and head over to do what you should’ve done twenty minutes ago. “My bad.”

“You’re the one eating these. Can you even finish all this?”

It’s far too much, but what else were you going to do with five potatoes on the verge of going bad? You suppose you could have not accepted them from your friend. “I can try?” you say, more to convince yourself than him. “I’m no coward.”

“Really? Then why do you hide when we watch horror movies?”

“That’s different. Mario Kart while we wait?”

“I call Birdo.”

Despite his declaration, you’re the one playing Birdo while he settles for Waluigi. Seungmin gloats when he hits you with a red shell, laughs when you fall off the track, and celebrates when he gets first place. He’s practically corporeal, alight with hopes and dreams you wish were your own, but he’s only the echo of the past. Meanwhile, blood flows through your veins and oxygen into your lungs, yet you’re stuck in a potential future you don’t even want.

At the end of fall, between your human biology midterm and that stupid philosophy paper, you break. It’s during one of your MCAT practice exams, so you at least can cry at your desk. You can’t even cry without guilt; your mind immediately starts trying to reread the problem you’re stuck on through your tears, as if trigonometry will solve your crisis. 

It feels like an elephant is sitting on your chest. Every time you think you’ve calmed down enough to begin again, another wave of sobs overcomes you. Just holding your pencil makes your throat tighten.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin’s voice is slightly muffled by your bedroom door, but you doubt that a thin piece of wood concealed your cries.

You choke out, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“... No.”

You swing open your door with sardonic fanfare, spreading your arms like a ringmaster. Seungmin makes no comment about your swollen eyes or your sniffles. You almost wish he had.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks. He takes a tentative step into your room, and when you nod, he lets himself fully in. It’s been several months since he’s last been inside. Unmade bed, cluttered nightstand, paper-strewn desk—nothing much has changed. He sits on your chair, resting an arm on top of the throw blanket you’ve thrown over the back.

“I don’t know what there is to talk about,” you say after a moment of silence. “I hate class, I hate work, I hate my life. A breakdown has been long overdue.”

You stare at the floor, afraid to meet his gaze now that he’s seen you like this. Ever since you discovered Seungmin, you’ve crafted the perfect blasé attitude to accommodate your new living circumstances. He leaves you alone sometimes and stays cordoned off in the shared spaces to give you privacy, but you don’t break apart in your apartment for good reason. You’re open and raw like a bloody wound. Will he want to patch you up with bandaids, or will he pick and prod?

Pick and prod, you pray. Make some flippant remark about how easy you have it, how he wishes he could be in your position instead. Because if he does, then the situation must not be that bad.

Softly, Seungmin says, “What can I do to help?”

Your heart drops to your stomach. “I don’t know… I should probably get back to studying anyway.”

“Really? Are you serious?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” you snap. Seungmin at least has the decency to look sheepish. “The MCAT’s in July, and I don’t even understand half the things I’m supposed to know. I’m barely getting C’s in philosophy and art history because of it. That’s so humiliating.”

“Have you thought about, you know, not going to med school?”

A harsh laugh rips out of your throat. “Every single day. But it’s too late. I’ve already wasted four years, so what’s another four?” That doesn’t even include residency.

“You’d hate it.”

“Story of my life.”

The room goes quiet. Maybe you were too severe with your words, but how else do you explain it? 

“What if you became a medical illustrator?” he abruptly suggests. “You’d know exactly how to draw everything. It’s perfect for you. And it’s still STEM-related.”

It doesn’t matter if it’s in STEM. Your parents laid out your options very clearly: doctor or disappointment. Some career choices were less disappointing than others, but they would still be disappointments.

“I need to study,” you say.

He stands up from your rightful seat at your desk. Softly, so very softly, he says, “I’ll let you get back to it then.”

“Thank you.”

He shuts the door behind him and leaves you with your despair. True to your word, you return to your practice exam, this time without crying. Your mouth is dry the entire session, but you don’t dare drink any water in fear that rehydration will trigger your tears. It’s stupid but keeps you holding on. 

When you check your answers and review terminology, you refer to the set of flashcards Seungmin made for you. He didn’t expect you to use them, but his drawings have helped you better memorize the definitions. You shuffle through them, occasionally trying to figure out the relationship between whatever Seungmin drew and the word written. Other times—but not enough for your liking—you know exactly what they mean.

The rabbit from “absolute threshold” stares at you with lopsided eyes, and Mendel’s warped pea plants grow beneath your fingers. The whole world blurs.

A month after move-in, after too many beers and barbeque chips, you asked Seungmin, “Why do you haunt only me? You can travel through the whole building, but you’re only ever here.”

He gestures at the room with a sweeping flourish. “This used to be my apartment. Sort of. They changed the floor plan, but this is the approximate location of where I lived, so when you moved in, it felt like fate.”

“Ah, a med school sufferer to keep you company.”

He laughs, but it sounds insincere. “How drunk are you right now?”

You glance at the row of empty cans you lined up on the counter. One, two, three, four, five. Five and a half, if you count the one in your hand. “Pretty drunk, I think.”

“So you won’t remember what I tell you, right?”

“Probably not,” you lie. “What is it?”

With a sad smile on his face, he says, “I haunt you because it’s like seeing someone live the life I could’ve had. Would’ve had.”

Your outburst doesn’t go forgotten, but you and Seungmin dance around the topic with the grace of a seasoned ballerina. You show him your grocery hauls, he scolds you for buying expensive cookies. The two of you play Overcooked instead of Mario Kart and pretend that Overcooked will strengthen your friendship instead destroy it even further. Seungmin is really bad, embarrassingly so. 

“Are you going to the party this weekend?” he asks as he drops onions all over the floor. There’s no health department in the game.

“I would ask you to be more specific,” you say, “but we both know I’m not going to any parties. Go chop the onions.”

“You need friends.”

“I have friends. Who do you think keeps us giving us potatoes?”

He scoffs. “That’s not a friend. That’s an enemy. We need more dishes.”

While you wash a stack of dirty dishes, Seungmin dashes between prepping ingredients and watching the timer on the soups. As expected, he doesn’t take the pot off the stovetop quick enough, and soon enough the whole kitchen is in flames. You scream at him to get the fire extinguisher, he wades through the sea of onions, and the level ends with a single gold star.

You set your joycon down and lean your head back. “Three stars or nothing” is your motto when playing Overcooked, but perhaps you can make an exception for Seungmin.

“Why’d you ask me about a party?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Seems like a college student thing to ask. And a college student thing to do. Go to parties, I mean.”

“Not for us.” You stretch your arms and legs out, knocking your socked feet against the coffee table. “When have you ever seen me willingly leave the apartment?”

“Never,” he admits, “but you should enjoy your youth.”

Whatever mutual agreement you thought you and Seungmin had does not exist. You have long known that you would have to sacrifice your twenties for your future. There would be good moments among your struggles, but so many of your memories would be of test prep and studying. As your parents so eloquently put it, “You can draw after you retire.” 

“That’s funny coming from you,” you say. You wave a hand in front of his face and observe the way his eyebrows scrunch together. “Are you really Seungmin?”

“Do you know any other ghosts?”

“Do you actually regret dedicating so much time to studying?”

“No. I mean, I went out when I could, but you…” He mindlessly thumbs the buttons of the controller as he tries to find his words. “Well, maybe I do a little bit, but it was fulfilling. Or was going to be anyway. You’re miserable. I’ve never seen you without dark circles or eye bags.”

How needlessly observant of him. “Thanks. It’s the quintessential college look.”

“Take care of yourself.” He raises his joycon and nods at the TV. “Let’s go again. Three stars only.”

And just like that, you and Seungmin go back to pretending as if everything is fine, like the last few minutes were idle chatter about the weather. You yell instructions at him, and he retorts back with something snarky; all is well.

You suppose you should have realized why Seungmin asked you such out-of-character questions two weeks ago. Death anniversaries don’t typically go onto your calendar, but you could have made an exception for Seungmin. How did you forget? As you walk down the stairs, a wave of guilt washes over you.

The annual university-held vigil occurs on campus, but the apartment complex has their own small affair in the courtyard. Framed photos of the victims huddle together at the base of a half-wall. Already, there are several flowers and notes strewn about, and you add your own carnation to the pile. You have a note as well, and it burns your hand as you debate whether to leave it or not.

Twelve people died that night. “Only” twelve, as some papers reiterated. Twelve out of three hundred doesn’t seem too horrific given the state of the fire, but that’s still twelve people dead. Plenty more got injured trying to escape, and they aren’t honored at this memorial. The living don’t get commemorated—they live with the memories of the day, and that’s remembrance enough for the public.

“Hey.”

No one else is around, so you say, “Hey,” back to Seungmin. He disappeared for a few hours, and you assumed he would be gone until sunrise. In the days leading up to his death anniversary, he has grown increasingly depressed, looking vacantly out the window and mouthing words to himself. You idiotically thought he was just having one of those days.

“How are you holding up?” you ask.

“Fine, I guess. Good turn out this year,” he remarks as he kneels down to pick through the gifts. “The construction workers didn’t even show up to work because of superstition or something.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know, it’s just…” You wave the folded notebook paper in your hand. Maybe you should’ve bought some stationery after all. “Read this later. I’ll see you whenever.”

You gently place it beside your carnation, return back to your apartment, and lock yourself inside your room. It’s too quiet, and you’re too restless. Your head tells you to do practice problems to burn off your energy, but all you’ve been doing as of late is listen to your head.

As you sketch an anatomical heart—underneath a completely necessary and painstakingly accurate rendering of a male torso—your bones say that this is right. 

To Kim Seungmin, a star that went out too soon—

You deserved so much more than this. I don’t even know what else to say because nothing feels more appropriate. 

I’m living in your old apartment—where it used to be, at least—and I can’t help but feel that I’m living the life you should have had. Sometimes I can feel your presence when I’m studying. I can hear you reciting definitions and shuffling flashcards. When I’m really losing my mind, I can see you sitting on the couch watching House episodes with me. It’s comforting and terrifying.

You already know this, but I don’t want to go to med school. I hate it and I hate being a disappointment to my parents, but I hate being a disappointment to you the most. You should be in my place, so I thought I should try and complete your dream for you at the very least. I’m already miserable, so I should make the most of it. For a while, I thought this would make you happy, but it’s been making you sad and worried recently. I thought if I could make you happy, then it would be worth it, but I’m realizing it’s not, but I’m too scared to leave this path. Sometimes I don’t know who I am without med school looming over me, and it 

I wish we would’ve met earlier. You’re an amazing person, full of light and kindness. The world is darker without you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done and for everything that I didn’t do because you deserve so much better than whatever you’ve been given.

“Do you want to talk?”

Seungmin’s upside down face appears between you and the iPad you have been holding up with both arms. Philosophy review is simultaneously boring and maddening, but you have a final to be studying for. You should’ve started much earlier, but twenty-four hours of cramming has not failed you when it comes to general education elective courses yet.

“Not really,” you say as you push his face out of view. He’s corporeal at the moment, so your hand meets resistance rather than going right through. “I’m busy.”

“Did you apply for a ‘biomedical visualization’ program? That’s a medical illustrator thing, right?”

You don’t need to look at him to know he’s thrilled. Since the memorial, you began looking into medical illustrators as a backup plan. You only meant to learn about the basic requirements, but curiosity got the better of you, and you attended an online informational session. Seungmin overheard bits and pieces because of how thin the walls are, you got cagey when he asked, and he put his endless hours of free time into detective work. 

“I didn’t apply. I’m just looking around. Now go away.”

“The living room is a communal space. So you’re considering it then?”

You don’t respond and bring your iPad closer to your eyes. To read the tiny notes on the margins of your classmate’s notes, of course.

Seungmin cackles and claps his hands. “You are! This is good! Why are you so morose?”

“Because you interrupted my studying? I have less than ten hours to cover three months of content.”

“You’re deflecting. Are you worried about your parents?”

“Morose and deflecting,” you murmur. “Two gold stars for your vocabulary usage.”

“Are you?”

You shut your eyes, envisioning the stern faces of your parents when you announce over dinner your plans to spend your life not being a doctor. Their expressions morph from confusion to anger to grim when they realize how serious you are. 

Are you serious about this? You’re not even sure yourself. It feels like you’re in high school again, holding onto a shred of hope for a future you aren’t allowed to have.

“What if I lie to them?” you say. “I tell them I got into a school that’s super far away, go there, and return when I’ve firmly established myself as an illustrator or whatever I end up doing. It’ll be too late for them to do anything.”

“That’s one way to do it. But wouldn’t it be better if you were upfront?”

You groan and turn back to your classmate’s notes. What is it like, you wonder, to not be crushed by the weight of approval? What is it like to know you won’t be scorned for your choices? No matter what you do, someone—your parents or Seungmin—will be upset.

“Upset” is a very mild way to describe your parents’ reactions. After six cans of celebratory beer—you passed all of your classes this semester!—you called your parents to tell them good news. Somewhere between the silent congratulations and questions of your home arrival, you blurted out, “I think I’m gonna do biomedical visualization. Medical illustration. Art. It’s still medical-related, but not a doctor.”

And after a lengthy discussion filled with shouting, you’re not allowed to come home this year or ever again. CALL ENDED flashes on your screen, but you grip your phone so tightly you can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips. Your whole body is tense, flushed with indignation and shame. No tears come. You expected something like this but nothing to this extreme. Their words echo in your ears.

Ungrateful. Selfish. Disgrace. 

Logically, you know you’re none of those things, but you can’t help but feel they’re at least a little bit right. You sink into your desk chair and wait for the inevitable knock on your door. To step out of your own accord would be mortifying. 

“Are you okay?” asks Seungmin.

“I’ve been disowned in every way except legally,” you answer as you let him inside your room. “What do you think?”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s…”

It’s not fine, but your mouth started saying so by default. You perch on the edge of your bed and stare at the stack of practice books that have been untouched for two days on your dresser. They would belong better under your bed where they’ll be out of sight.

Suddenly insecure, you ask, “You’re not gonna leave me, right? You’ll still help me peel potatoes and let me know when my artisan cookies are on sale?”

He chuckles. “The only way you can get away from me is by moving or by graduating. I’ll be here. Instead of nagging you to study, I’ll critique your anatomy.”

“That’s against the rules.” Nevertheless, you smile at the thought of Seungmin hyperfixed at your artistic renderings and comparing them against pictures from a textbook. “Thanks.”

Seungmin smiles back, and he radiates so much warmth that you forget it’s winter.

EPILOGUE

“Honey, I’m home,” you call. 

You nearly trip over the door sill in your heels but catch yourself in time. Wearing heels to commencement is a bad idea for more reasons than one. Clutching your friend’s graduation bouquet, you flip on the light switch with the back of your hand and glance over your apartment. Other than the dozens of boxes scattered across the living room and kitchen, nothing else belongs to you; goodbye coffee table you stubbed your toes against too many times; goodbye peeling school-issued couch. You half-expected to see Seungmin lying on it, staring at the ceiling like he used to. 

“Seungmin, where are you?” When he doesn’t answer, you try again. “Anyone home?”

You wander around the small apartment, checking behind doors and furniture like you’re playing hide-and-seek. He’s nowhere to be found, and you go through the apartment again in a frenzy. He could be in a different part of the building, but he always knows when you’re looking for him.

“Where are you? Seungmin, this isn’t funny! I know you can hear me.”

It takes twenty minutes, but you eventually realize he’s gone for good. No goodbyes, no hugs, no teasing—he just waved you off to your ceremony and shut the front door. You knew he wouldn’t be able to help you move out, but you thought he would still be here when you returned. He researched additional art classes for you, suggested works for your portfolio, and consoled you whenever you were overwhelmed. It’s a knife to your heart that he’s not here.

In between tears that you don’t allow to fall from your eyes, you carry your boxes of belongings to your car. You have a new place to call home, but two perfectly nice housemates and a dog aren’t good replacements for a ghost who annoyed you from sunrise to sundown.

I hope you find this note eventually. I know we have the rule where I’m not supposed to go through your belongings, but since we’re not going to be roommates any longer, I hope you’re not too mad. Completely unrelated but you’re really good at Mario Kart. So good. Birdo was designed specifically for you.

Congratulations on graduating. You’ve worked hard this year. Could have worked harder sometimes but you did it! Relax a bit during your gap year and enjoy your youth. Those art classes will be easy for you. Biomed visualization will be easy after pre-med studies.

Stop rolling your eyes and sighing. You know I’m right.

I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. I know you wanted it, but I don’t think I could have handled it. The truth is that I was ready to go a couple months ago when you started compiling your portfolio. For two years, I didn’t know why I was still here. At first, I thought my unfinished business was about the circumstances of my death. (Stop wincing. I’m dead. It’s a fact.) Then the administration stepped up. They did the bare minimum, to be honest, but at least changes were made. When you turned up, I thought I was supposed to fulfill my dream of going to med school. Turns out, I still have no idea what exactly why I was here, but seeing you live the life you want and choose the future you want makes me feel like business is finished.

To L/N Y/N, a star that will keep shining for decades to come—

I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done so far. There are so many opportunities waiting out there for you, so don’t be afraid to take any chances. I’ll be with you always.

[ceoofmetagala]

I forgot if I sent something for this, so pardon me if I send some of the same emojis. Do whoever you want for the following:

🥘☀️💌⚔️

SORRY FOR NOT AWNSERING I KEPT FORGETTING TO.

🥘 (Stew) - Do they have any favourite foods or comfort foods? What are their eating habits like? If absorbed by the Cook ability, what healing item would they summon?

Flora favriote food as mentioned before is chicken. They used to not eat much during the whole being in their dream dimension thing so it took them a bitt one able to digest things properly again or even remember he had too. Now he can digest most mood he just needs to rember to do so. If they were absorbed by the cook abilty, the rotisserie chicken.

☀️ (Sun) - What’s their morning routine like? Do they take a lot of time getting ready in the morning? How do they groom themselves? What are they having for breakfast?

Valerie and Audrey don't take much time to get ready barley getting ready, valerie just runs out bed head and all(after tying her two bows up in her horns( while Audrey just pats down her fluff and puts on a bow. Val and aud as kids were groomed by meta who made sure they had their fluff brushed properly. And for breakfest, whatever the halberd crew has is what they have

In adulthood they take more time to get ready in the morning, Valerie gets up bright and early and brushes down her fur and puts on her armor like this.

So yeah. For breakfest simple coffee and bread. Audrey wakes up relatively early to open up her flower shop and does nothing much other than styling her fluff to what she wants for the day and gets dressed.

💌 (Love Letter) - How easy are they to befriend? Are they more of a social butterfly or a lone wolf?

Fecto flora is pretty easy to befriend, he's very friendly! It's hard to get close to him though. Flora also doesn't seek out companions really and just sits there unless someone goes up to him first.

Chocomonio is very social, it's just hard to befriend thanks to it's rudeness at times. But it means well it promises!

⚔️ (Crossed Swords) - What weapon(s) do they wield or specialize in, if any in particular? Any special properties? Do their weapons have names or epithets? [e.g. MK’s Galaxia, Morpho’s Doomblade]

Flora has a staff thingy. I haven't come up with any name for it

He uses it to open any portals as it's primary function or minuplate his dream realm.

He also has a secondary weapon simple to the one Doctor healmore wields in super Kirby clash! This is what he uses to actually heal people. (It's flowers that sprout up snd burst energy) Like the flasks drops, it's seeds he throws out that heal and can even have some effects depending on the flower seed used. He generally just used magic seeds that look like "flower" if you look it up when bloomed. Specific seeds can be support such as sunflower seeds which give a boost in sizzle magic or even some negative llikw foxglove? It can inflict posion on enemies., but for people with poison this can boost their ability too.

[thornsnvultures]

Can I hear about the Eddie family Thanksgiving and the touch starved Eddie wips pretty please? They sound so sweet 🥺❤️

Of course! 💖

So in the Thanksgiving one Wayne tells you that they hadn't celebrated much of the holiday since the one year him and Eddie nearly burned the trailer down trying to fry a turkey in the yard. Eddie plays it off like he doesn't care but the way he lights up when you offer to spend it with him says otherwise. You and Eddie watch the parade in the morning snuggled up on the couch. He doesn't like all the corny pop songs and complains about it the whole time but he secretly loves the giant balloons and sings along with the holiday music under his breath. Later in the day the two of you get to work on the food mostly from cans and boxes (except for the pie you insist on making from scratch), and Wayne brings home a rotisserie chicken (turkey is banned from the house). While Wayne watches the football game you and Eddie sit on the roof of the trailer eating pie and looking at the stars, huddled together under a blanket. It's unlike any Thanksgiving you've ever had.

By the time I kind of had an outline I was happy with it was like a week after Thanksgiving and I didn't feel like anyone would be interested anymore lol

I think I made a post about the touch starved!Eddie one before but I can't find it. The long and short of it is that Eddie is a smitten, gooey mess for you and wants to show you how good he can be by sitting still in the chair while you work. He doesn't want to be a creep cause he's sure you get a lot of weirdos hitting on you at work, but he's never felt like this before. One downside of many of being the school freak is that the ladies aren't really lining up to be seen with him. He's been with girls before, he's no stuttering virgin anymore, but you, you bring it out in him again. And when you touch him he can barely breathe. He keeps coming back for more and more ink and when you joke that he must have a crush on you during one of his sessions he goes beet red, stomach rolling from the fear that you'll be grossed out by the weirdo loser.

I didn't finish that one cause I wasn't sure where I wanted to go with it and it just kinda fizzled out, but ugghfgshsjsghsj!! I love confident, cocky Eddie turning blushy nervous around the pretty girl he likes lol

[imagineredwood]

"Bad day, mama?"

Request: Quarantine based imagine. Tranq’s Old lady is an essential worker. She’s a manager at a grocery store and she comes home after a long day dealing with rude customers and very few nice people and he lets her rant and he cooks dinner for her. Very fluffy.

Pairing: Tranq Loza x female reader 

Warnings: Talk about the pandemic and shitty people, that’s it 

Word count: 1K

“Bad day, mama?”

You nodded with a tired sigh as you walked into your home, kicking your shoes off, and enjoying the freedom of no longer having them compressed. Tranq pouted and held his hands out to take your purse and other belongings from you.

“Go take a shower. I already got dinner started, it’ll be done soon. Then we can talk about it.”

With a kiss to your forehead and then other to your lips, Tranq gently pushed you in the direction of the master bedroom. You headed in his direction and went to the bathroom, stripping out of your work clothes and tossing them lazily into the hamper.

You took your time in the shower, washing up, and then simply standing in the hot water for minutes on end. You let the water soothe your tired and tense muscles, eyes closed as you relished in being back home. Having to work in a pandemic was one thing but having to work in a pandemic with customers who only cared about their own selfish wants added on an extra layer of stress that had you near tears out of frustration. You felt like you could almost fall asleep, your body swaying slightly. The sound of someone knocking on the bathroom door startled you, your eyes shooting open.

“Baby? You almost done?”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you and finished rinsing off, calling out so he could hear you over the water.

“Yeah! I’m coming.”

Washing off the final bubbles from your skin, you shut off the water and climbed out, drying off and hurrying through putting on your lotion.

Clean and dressed comfortably, you made your way out to the living room, Tranq in the kitchen already serving both of your plates. He smiled as he saw you and motioned down to the plates, showing you that he had made your favorite. Your stomach growled and your mouth watered, thankful more than ever for your husband.

“Looks so good.”

Tranq smiled, eyes crinkled in the corners at your compliment. He was pulling out your chair for you then, letting you sit before pushing you back in. He sat down across from you the way he always did, eyes on you and giving you his full attention.

“Do you wanna talk about it? You don’t have to if you rather forget about it, but I’m here if you wanna vent.”

He gave a soft nod and you returned it, taking a bite before starting.

“It’s just…people can be so stupid. We’ve got signs plastered everywhere saying that masks are required to enter, and they come in without one. Then they want to get pissed when we tell them they need to put on a mask. Then you have people taking shit out and then putting it back where it doesn’t belong, so not only do I have to make sure that everything gets put back where it belongs, but we have to sanitize them all over again. People wanna yell and get angry because we’re out of stock like I can just go fly the shit in on a private jet. Everyone is just so rude and shitty and I just- “

You stopped yourself and took a deep breath, not wanting to give into the anger once again. Tranq felt the same way and reached across the table, placing his hand on top of yours and stroking his thumb along the back of it soothingly.

“It’s ok, sweetheart. They ruined your day; don’t let them ruin your night too.”

You nodded and fed yourself another bite, calming down slowly.

“It’s just annoying. We’re all stuck in shitty situations. Why be a dick and make it worse for us when we’re just trying to keep the world running?”

Tranq nodded, understanding your frustration. He wished he could do something more about it, but alas, he couldn’t make people be more sensible, nor could he make them be nicer. He could try his best to distract you though.

“Were there any nice customers? Anyone that was helpful or appreciative?”

You nodded, a small smile coming to your lips as you recalled the elderly woman who had come in thirty minutes before closing.

“There was this little old lady that came in at the end of my shift. Said that she was sorry for coming in so late, but she burned the chicken that she had told her husband she would have for dinner for him when he came home from fishing and she didn’t want him to know. So, she bought one of the whole rotisserie chickens and said she would just pretend that she made that.  Said she would come in tomorrow and let us know if she fooled him.”

You chuckled and Tranq did too, the mood already lighter from the story. Tranq took advantage and jumped in then, letting you eat while he told you the positives about his day. About the pranks the guys had been playing all day, about Letty and how she was doing well in school. By the time the two of you had finished eating you had relaxed, and your bad mood had lifted, your mind and body no longer weighed down with the stress of the day.

You and Tranq washed the dished together, talking quietly, happy to be home with each other. With the kitchen clean, you both went and sat down on the couch, the bear of a man taking you into his arms and letting you lean back to rest against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, keeping you in a snug hold as he nuzzled into your neck.

“At least you’re home now, baby.”

You nodded, resting your chin on his forearm, and relaxing into the warmth of his embrace, unable to agree more.

“At least I’m with you. You are home.”

The Mayan blushed and leaned his cheek to lay on the top of your head, more and more in love with you each year you were together.

“Always.”

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl @elcococruz @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast @iambabyharry @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114 @saturnsaree @multiyfandomgirl40 @destynelseclipsa @sadeyesgf @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben @all-the-boys-to-the-yard @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses​  @abby-splace​

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon  @abunnykisses @briana-mishell24 @angelreyesgirl @wrcn9fvlcver @peaches009 @capt-canadian @thesandbeneathmytoes @krysiewithak @veracruz-djarin @appropriate-writers-name @cind-in-real-life @blessedboo @montanaraed @kkim120 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @emoengelfurleben @blowmymbackout

[trashyswitch]

The Strange Twin Brother

Remus was known as the strange, impulsive brother who liked causing havoc wherever he could. Here are some stories of times he traumatized people, worried people and teased people through his charmingly grotesque ways.

I'm dedicating this fanfic to a couple of my friends who LOVE dark humor.

This fanfic has some SUPER dark humor. Animal death and a couple subtle dirty jokes added in. A little bit of bondage is used as well. So read at your own risk, and enjoy the dark humor!

It was always known that Roman was the preppy, clean one of the twins while Remus was the weird, stinky twin. Roman was known for play productions, being the ultimate feminine gay and for bursting out in song randomly, while Remus was known for pulling pranks, being a less hairy Grinch and for reading smut out loud to the entire room.

But Remus was also known for just being strange in general. There have been some disturbing moments where Remus was seen covered in blood while eating a raw rabbit, some annoying moments where Remus would shout out truths about certain origins behind Disney movies, and strangely amusing moments where Remus would bring a skunk home, give it a collar and keep it as a pet despite Logan’s demands to let it loose.

And yet, Roman often chalked all these strange behaviours down to just ‘Remus being Remus’ and wouldn’t question his already screwed up inner thoughts.

Doesn’t mean things were all sunshine and rainbows...Roman would be super worried for Remus if that were the case!

One day, Roman and Patton were looking at scrapbooks of old times with the family. They were looking at Thomas’s public school wins when the front door had closed. Roman turned around, knowing that would be Remus.

“Hi Remus! Any luck?” Roman asked.

Suddenly, Remus jumped out into the living room with his bow and arrow, a blood bag and-

WAS THAT WOLF FUR?!

SHIT! PATTON’S THERE!

Roman yelped and quickly shoved Patton’s face into the scrapbook to keep the innocent boy from looking. “OW! ROMAN! WHAT’S WRONG?!” Patton shouted.

“Uuuuuh...Animal...Hide.” Roman replied.

“ANIMAL?” Patton reacted with a big smile as he tried to lift his head back up. “What kind of animal is it? Let go, Ro! I wanna see the animal!” Patton asked excitedly.

Roman bit his lip and sat himself in front of Patton’s view. “It’s dead, Pat! You don’t wanna see it!” Roman let him know.

Remus just laughed at that. “So seeing a dead wolf carcass is off limits, but seeing TONS of Roman ass is fine?” Remus teased.

Roman rolled his eyes at that. “My ass is covered, unlike that devastated wolf face you’re wearing as a hood.” Roman shot back as he continued to keep Patton’s face hidden from the still-bloody hide. “Whaaat are you gonna do with the hide?” Roman asked.

Remus hummed and tilted his head to the side, causing the animal head hood to follow to the side. “I’m thinking a coat! Or a bathrobe!” Remus declared excitedly.

“Why not both?” Roman asked.

Remus gasped and ran up to Roman, tackle-hugging him to the ground. “YOU’RE A GENIUS!” Remus shouted.

Roman flopped onto his back, a good 3 feet away from Patton. Pat lifted his head up, and quickly screamed and covered his eyes. It really was a wolf carcass! A still-bloody carcass at that! Patton picked up the scrapbook and covered up his own field of view with it.

Roman giggled and looked at the jaw-dropped wolf face that was still slightly bleeding. “Are you gonna remove the teeth and feed them through a thread?” Roman asked, pointing at the set of sharp wolf teeth.

“Probably, yeah.” Remus replied.

Remus smirked. “You should dip the ends of the teeth into some red paint to make it look like bloody teeth that just caught their meal.” Roman suggested.

“Hmmm...Paint? Or bloooood?” Remus asked.

Roman chuckled and shook his head. “Whatever you feel looks better.” Roman replied.

Remus hummed as he thought about how to do it. Suddenly, Remus snapped his bloody fingers! “How about I mix some blood INTO the paint! So it looks realistic AND sticks properly!” Remus declared.

Remus shrugged his shoulders. “You can try it. You have a closet full of craft stuff you can use.” Roman mentioned.

Remus gave Roman one last bloody, slightly furry hug. “Thank you Roman! You’re the best!” Remus declared happily before getting up and running to his room.

Roman chuckled and shook his head. What a nutjob. He looked over at Patton, who was sloooowly uncovering his face with the scrapbook. The poor guy looked traumatized beyond belief.

Logan was hanging out with Remus at a nearby park. Remus was casually sitting on a park bench with a stroller filled with a litter of tuxedo kittens. On the cup holder of the stroller was an extra large iced coffee and an abandoned knife and fork. While the kittens were left sleeping in the stroller with a cover over them, Remus was completely devouring a full rotisserie chicken with his bare, greasy hands.

Logan was sitting beside him, holding a fork and taking little bits of the chicken. Though Logan was growing slightly disgusted by Remus’s feral behaviour, Logan was able to maintain a calm, casual facial expression. Though people were staring at Remus with worry and disgust, Logan just smiled and waved at the people as they walked by them.

It was like seeing a polite englishman sitting beside a New Jerseyan! Complete opposites.

When the two of them were mostly alone, Logan slowly leaned over to Remus. “You’re creating quite the reputation here.” Logan whispered.

“I knothw!!” Remus replied proudly, his face fully stuffed with just chicken. The man didn’t even have anything to wash it down besides his iced coffee! Soon, Remus got up, moved the plate of cooked chicken carcass onto the bench, and picked up his Starbucks coffee with his dominant hand. He happily slurped down some of the ice-filled coffee and smiled with his cheeks all bunched up like a chipmunk.

“Imagine Patton seeing you right now. He would lose it.” Logan mentioned.

Remus let out a muffled giggle at that. “Gooth thin’ he’th noth!” Remus reacted, a slight bit of coffee sliding down his chin.

Logan just laughed at that and ate another piece of the chicken. It didn’t take long for Remus to resume scarfing down his chicken while taking sips of iced coffee in between. It was the perfect combination for a protein & caffeine diet.

Eventually, a guy with a black jacket, sunglasses and a large iced coffee of his own, started walking by. “What the fuck is that creature?! And WHY do I WANT ONE?!” they declared to their vest-wearing friend with a red tie.

Remus choked on his iced coffee and bursted out laughing. Logan smirked in amusement and looked up at the jacket boy. “This is Remus. He’s...definitely a strange one.” Logan introduced. “Also single.” Logan muttered.

The jacketed guy smirked and drank more of the iced coffee. “Come here often?” he asked the both of them.

Logan chuckled at that. “Quite often, yes.” he replied.

“Ith’ my ffffavorithe thpot-th!” Remus declared happily.

“Do you two have names?” Logan asked.

The jacket guy nodded. “I’m Remy. And this, my special loving beanie baby over here, is Emile.” they introduced.

“KITTENS!” Emile shouted excitedly, staring at the stroller.

Remus smiled and looked at Emile. “Yup! It’s a stroller filled with kittens.” Remus said proudly.

Emile picked up one of the tuxedo kittens and hugged it close. “It’s soooo CUUUTE!” Emile cooed.

Logan looked at Remus and raised an eyebrow. Remus looked at Logan back and nodded his head. “Would you like to keep it?” Logan asked.

Emile gasped and beamed at them. “REALLY?!” But Emile quickly composed himself. “I-I mean- Are you sure? I didn’t know they were for sale.” Emile admitted.

“They weren’t. But you look very happy with it!” Remus added. “That one’s a boy.” Remus added.

Emile looked at Remus again, still not sure if he should be taking a cat home. Remus nodded his head with an innocent smile. “I insist!” Remus replied.

Emile looked at Logan. “If you’re wondering, they have all been vaccinated from 8 weeks old till their age which is 5 weeks old.” Logan told Emile. “If you would like, we could cover your vaccination costs up until he reaches 4 months old.” Logan offered.

“Oh my gosh that offer sounds lovely! But I can pay for it myself. But could we meet at the veterinary clinic you take them to, so I can meet their vet and sign the adoption papers?” Emile asked.

Logan nodded. “Of course! I’ll give you the address.” Logan replied.

While Logan was doing that, Remus was looking at all the kittens and growing curious. But he was quickly interrupted by a wave in his direction. Remus and Emile’s locked long enough for Emile to mouth the words ‘thank you’ to him. Remus smiled and nodded back. But then: Remus picked up one of the kittens…

Remus just started staring dead into Emile’s eyes, and shoved the cat’s head into his own mouth. Still staring at Emile, he bit down on the cat, killing it instantly and swallowed it whole. Emile’s excitement for the cat quickly faded away and a big, terrified chill ran down Emile’s spine. It was here that Emile realized that Remus was most likely not in the right mind. Emile quickly patted Logan’s shoulder and pointed to Remus. “He- j-j-just- ateacat…” Emile said, struggling to even talk.

Logan looked over at Remus and immediately noticed the hanging tail that was sticking out of Remus’s mouth. Logan sighed. “How in the world are you still hungry after all that chicken?” Logan asked.

Remus laughed. “I just am!”

Emile hesitantly kept the cat they had just been given, and made a mental note to never let Remus hold their cat. EVER.

A good while later, Patton and Janus were cleaning the house while Remus and Roman were coloring in the kitchen. They both had a cup of water each, and one pack of markers laying in front of them at the table to share. Though only Remus was using all the colors due to the boy’s...strange habit of bleaching them and sucking on them.

Remus was currently drawing a blender filled with green gunk mixed with what he assumed to be blood, and something white. Whether it was milk, bone bits, drugs or...something else; no one but Remus could tell you. All they knew was that some of the green gunk was spilling out the top corners of the blender lid.

Meanwhile, Roman was drawing a completely white picture of a gigantic dog surrounding a bunch of tiny people. But the dog was not like Clifford the Big Red Dog. It was a fluffy white pomeranian! And the pomeranian had a...saxophone? It even had the word *Bork* written beside the mouth.

Wait, was that Gabe the Dog?

Remus giggled at the picture of Gabe the dog, and made a little high-pitched ‘BORK’ sound. Roman bursted out laughing at that and made an evil old hag cackle. Remus wheezed at the cackle while Patton was giggling and shaking his head at the two.

Soon, Logan walked into the room with a smirk. “Why do I hear dogs and evil witches in here?” Logan asked.

Remus and Roman both had to stop their coloring and drawing to lean back and laugh their heads off.

Logan sat down at the table as well and continued to read the astronomy book he had walked out with. But Logan quickly closed it as he cringed at the strong smell of bleach in the kitchen. “Patton, you need to stop using so much bleach.” Logan told him.

Patton turned around. “Come on, Logan, it’s not that bad. I didn’t even clean over there!” Patton reacted.

Logan tilted his head. “Are you sure you didn’t? Because It smells like you cleaned the table with it.” Logan told him.

Patton huffed and put his cloth-covered hand on his own hip. “I’m positive, Logan.”

Logan rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the bleachy smell. But it was not easy. Soon, Logan rubbed his finger on the table and smelled it.

Nope. No bleach.

He rubbed his finger on the windows and discovered that there was no bleach used there either. So, Logan looked around. “Where is that bleach smell coming from?” Logan asked as he followed his nose like a composed dog. Logan followed it till he looked down at the cups and markers. Logan sighed. “You weren’t using bleach on the markers again, I hope…” Logan asked Remus.

“Nope! Not today!” Remus replied proudly.

Logan looked at the cups and lifted them up. He smelled Roman’s cup first -much to Roman’s dismay- and placed it down.

Just water.

But then Logan lifted up Remus’s cup and smelled it:

Logan pulled his head back and coughed violently. Then he widened his eyes when he realized that half the water was already drunk!

Logan slammed the cup onto the table. “Remus.” Logan asked calmly.

Remus looked up at Logan with his teeth showing widely. “Yeeeessss?”

Logan cleared his throat. “Do you remember what we taught you about what bleach does to your digestive system?” Logan asked.

Patton gasped and threw his cloth onto the ground. “REMUS!”

Remus stifled a laugh. “Yes. I don’t remember exactly what happens, but I do remember you mentioning...death?” Remus replied.

Logan sighed and rubbed the top of his nose...only for him to quickly move his fingers away from his face out of fear of getting bleach droplets into his eyes. Then, Logan took the cup and dumped the bleach down the sink. “No more drinking bleach, Remus. It is disgusting and it can easily kill you.” Logan ordered.

Remus slowly lifted up a silver flask. “One new thing to learn about!”

Roman widened his eyes. “PATTON! REMUS HAS A FLASK!” Roman shouted.

Patton sprinted to the rescue and took the flask. “What have we told you about alcohol?! Alcohol for you, is strictly off limits! Remember what happened the last time you drank?” Patton ordered.

“The best experience of my LIFETIME?!” Remus declared excitedly.

Logan dumped the cup of water into the sink. “May the orphan children rest in peace.”

Remus bursted out in evil, proud cackles. Patton brought the flask to the sink and dumped out what he assumed to be alcohol. But much to his surprise: it was clear!

...and reeked of bleach.

Logan pulled out a baby bottle, dumped some milk into it and shoved the baby bottle into Remus’s mouth. “Drink up. Flush the bleach out of your system before your stomach and intestines burn.” Logan ordered.

Remus whined and pouted. Roman giggled at the look of a baby bottle in his grown brother’s mouth, and continued to outline the saxophone. “I’m done!” Roman declared, showing off his picture to Patton and Janus.

Remus pulled the baby bottle out of his mouth and showed off his picture as well. “I’m done as well!”

Both Patton, Janus and Logan enjoyed seeing the pictures they drew, and updated the fridge drawings. Patton would eventually scrapbook those pictures and show them off to Thomas.

One day around Halloween time, Roman was looking around for Remus in his room. But he was nowhere to be found. But things soon became more clear once he found a lined page with a creepy-looking drawing on it. Roman giggled and looked around. “Very funny, Remus! I know what your costume is now!” Roman teased.

Roman received no response. So, Roman turned the page around and continued looking around. “Remus, quit being secretive.” Roman ordered. Like he guessed though, Remus didn’t come out.

So, Roman followed the page’s advice and put the page into his pocket. Roman opened a drawer in the room that held a flashlight. He pulled it out, turned it on and started looking around. So far, there was nothing.

He looked around for another page or another clue to Remus’s location. Little did he realize that all he had to do...was look behind him…

Roman suddenly SCREAMED and threw the flashlight into the air! Something had wrapped around his feet and was now lifting him up! Roman shouted and grabbed at any surfaces he could, to get away. “AAAAAH! REMUS?! LET GO!” Roman shouted.

A static noise started filling Roman’s ears and a static-y image of Slenderman started getting closer and closer to Roman. Roman’s fear grew as the faceless being suddenly grew a mouth and teeth, and GROWLED loudly at him.

Next, another pair of tentacles grabbed Roman’s arms and waist, and lifted him upright. Roman gulped and pulled on the restraints, with no avail. He was utterly and truly, fucked.

Quickly, more tentacles summoned themselves from out of nowhere, and started wiggling and fluttering on his armpits, feet and lower back. Roman jumped, squeezed his eyes shut and tried to move away from the tickly tentacles as a wobbly smile grew onto his face. The tentacles wiggled and teased his armpits the most, taking advantage of just how vulnerable they were in this moment.

Roman took one desperate look at the tickling tentacles and threw his head back as the tentacles at the feet, suddenly found his toes! “Hehehehehehehey! Quihihihihit ihihihit Rehehehemuhuhuhus!” Roman giggled.

The tentacles at his lower back, started drawing up and down his spine. This caused Roman to arch and wiggle his back more. But things got even worse the moment four tentacles started tickling both his armpits! Roman squealed loudly and squeezed his fists as laughter and snorts started leaving his mouth! He couldn’t even try to cover up his mouth in any way because his hands were tied! Literally!

Then, everything quickly hit the fan the moment Remus’s tongue reached his ear. Roman guffawed and snorted at that! Roman squealed with laughter! One one hand, all Roman could think was just how disgusting and slimy it felt to have a tongue fluttering and ‘licking’ his ear! But HOLY HECK did it work! It was so much more ticklish than his toes and armpits combined!

Roman snorted again. “LEHEHEHET MEHEHEHEHE GOOOHOHOHO!” Roman begged.

The single tentacle that tickled Roman’s back, started writing letters on his lower back!

[Tickle tickle tickle]

Roman whined and shook his head. How DARE!

[Coochy coochy coo coochy coochy coo]

Roman widened his eyes and tried to tug on his restraints one more time. Of course, he was unsuccessful. “STAHAHAHAHAHAP!” Roman begged loudly.

[No]

Roman shook his head. “COHOHOME OHOHOHOHON MAHAHAHAN!” Roman pleaded.

[Fine]

Roman let out a breath of relief as the tickling tentacles lessened dramatically. But unfortunately, the black tentacle that was writing on Roman’s back, was not gone.

[Wet willy time]

Roman widened his eyes. “W-WAIT-” Roman was interrupted by the evil tongue tickling his ear once again! Roman shrieked loudly and threw his head back with laughs, snorts and the occasional cackles! All the while, the messenger on his lower back was still writing messages to him!

[Surprise!]

Roman shook his head. “IHIHI THOHOHOUGHT YOHOHOU WEHEHEHERE DOHOHONE!” Roman yelled.

[Im not done.] It wrote. [More tickles for Roman]

Roman squeezed his eyes shut and just gave up on trying to get out. There was just no trying to save himself from the clutches of Remus the slenderman tickle monster!

[Tickle tickle Roman]

[Tickle tickle brother]

[sit back. Accept your fate]

Here’s the fanart! 

Remus:

Roman:

(Drawn by a friend of mine)

[ditch-witches]

Too Nice (George MacKay Smut)

PART ONE

requested: yes/no (this is the second part of the previous one, thought I'd mix up the titles a smidge)

pairing: stepbro!George MacKay x reader

warnings: smuT (not as unholy as the last part though,,,), kinda more angsty ig

word count: 4,384

a/n: :)))))))))) WHat's GoiN oN GuYS

You rang the doorbell at your father and stepmother's house, stepping back to stand beside your new boyfriend, Ben. He smiled at you, shifting the dish in his hands to throw an arm around your shoulders. He was too nice for you. You didn't deserve him. You pulled your jacket closer to your body as your breath came out in clouds. That's when the door popped open, revealing your very excited stepmother in an ugly Christmas sweater she was probably wearing just to make your dad happy. She called over her shoulder that you were home before folding you in her arms tightly and swinging you back and forth. She peppered you with a million questions about your drive and if you were hungry as she welcomed you into the house, taking your coat from you.

"And who is this handsome young man?" Her mouth hung open in excitement as she wrapped her arms around Ben and you smirked slightly as he hugged her back, still balancing the bowl in one hand.

In reality, you hadn't wanted to bring Ben home to meet your family for Christmas but he had insisted on bringing you to his the weekend before. His giddy smile made you feel almost sick. "This is my boyfriend, Ben," you answered, greeting your father finally before he shook hands with Ben as your stepmother took his dish. You looked around the entryway and into the living room, noticing how much the house had changed all because of a formality. You really hadn't been home since the wedding, maybe it was for the best. George came around the corner of the kitchen and leaned against the threshold, crossing his arms. You bit your lip as your eyes locked on his, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly as his sights raked up and down your body. "Heya, Georgie," you quipped, feeling more attentive to a man than you had in a long time.

He smiled and walked over to you. "Merry Christmas," he muttered, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you against his hard chest. You inhaled quietly, wrapping your body around his waist and basking in his scent as your memories of the rehearsal dinner night flooded your mind. You felt secure in his arms. "You're late," he sighed, his warm breath cascading over your neck before he pulled away. You felt colder and more unstable than you did standing on the front step outside. "Ben, huh?" He whispered mockingly, making you giggle softly and nudge him away from you.

"Georgie is such a cute nickname! Why didn't I think of that?" An unknown voice broke the two of you apart. A girl a year or so older than you joined at his side, placing an arm across George's back. He wet his lips, eyes on your reaction to her. She smiled at you brightly, her light eyes crinkling slightly as she beamed at you. "You're the famous stepsister then?" She asked, sticking her free hand out to you.

Your mouth opened slightly in a grin, taking her hand and flashing a look to George. "Famous, huh?" You jeered and he rolled his eyes silently, more interacting with you than her. "It's nice to meet you..." you trailed off.

"Oh! I'm Dani. George's girlfriend," she stated, proudly looking up at him as he crossed his arms. The pang of jealousy deep in your chest was rather alarming for you as his blue eyes remained searching your face. "I'm still kind of new to this whole thing though," she leaned towards you in a dramatic way, "maybe you can give me some tips to getting to his secrets," she joked, sending you a wink.

You looked back at George almost in disbelief. She was so nice. What was she doing with George? "Uh, I'm pretty sure the dog is the only one that knows his true feelings," you threw back with a subtle grin and George smirked at your joke. The expression made your mind flash to being across the room from him during the dinner, begging with your eyes for him to close the distance. The memory of his deep voice in your ear as his lips pressed against your sensitive skin made goosebumps climb up your back. Ben finally joined the group, dealing out a round of handshakes as you introduced him.

George chewed on his bottom lip, one of his hands slipping into his jean pocket. You wanted to touch his dark green sweater again. It was like you felt the phantom irritation of beard burn against your chin again as his eyes drifted from whatever Ben and Dani were talking about to you. "George, do you mind if I steal your girlfriend for a bit, darling?" George's mother piped up from across the room with a large album in her hands and your dad eagerly beside her, motioning for Ben to sit by him. The two of you furrowed your brows as they cracked open the family vaults to the newest members in the room.

"We'll be in the kitchen," George answered, nudging your elbow so you followed him towards the sweet-smelling room. The door swung shut and George pulled an apron over his head. "Ben seems nice," he stated flatly, tying the strings around his waist and tending to whatever had been boiling on the stove.

"Where's the booze?" You grumbled, digging into the cabinet for Scotch. George smiled at you as you offered him a glass. He made sure to brush his fingers against yours as he took the liquor from you and you leaned against the counter beside him. "To Dani," you toasted, a deadpan look on your face to match his tired reaction.

He held his glass up, clicking it against yours softly. "To Ben." His tone matched yours before you both took a sip. You eyed him, looking soft and cozy from the warmth of the stove. The domestic side of him you were seeing now was almost uncharacteristic of him, only adding to your fantasies. He looked up at you from his task momentarily. "You're doing it again," he almost whispered as a smile crept across his face.

You furrowed your brows. "Doing what?" You answered defensively.

He stood up straighter, a smug expression draped over his face as he looked down at you. He reached around you for a sprig of rosemary, his body brushing against yours sending electricity to the ends of all your nerves. His lips were almost against your cheek as his breath fanned over your face and neck. "Looking at me like I'm something to eat," he uttered darkly, his thumb brushing over your jaw as he moved back into his spot, the taste of his thumb on your tongue as he triggered your memories with his actions. "I like your lipstick, darling," he quipped darkly, the use of one of his pet names making you want to melt into him. You would sell your soul to taste him again.

You exhaled slowly, brushing your hair out of your face, attempting to clear your mind of his obsession with your lips and mouth, making sure to let him know what he was doing to you. "I can't help it. You look just like a rotisserie chicken," you bantered, making him snort slightly. He acted like he hadn't laughed in a while, a wash of bliss falling over his cheeks.

"I will put you over my knee if you say that again, don't test me," he cracked and you snickered. He brought his thumb up to lick some stray sauce from the pad of his finger, his eyes drifting to yours and your lips. You chewed the inside of your cheek. "Dirty girl," he whispered, turning back to the pot with a sly smirk on his face.

"You threaten to take Dani over your knee, too?" You quizzed, tilting your head sarcastically.

He shook his head, sighing and shifting his weight. "She's not into that." Your eyebrows perked up at his response. "It's strictly missionary with her and telling her she looks pretty all the time." You thought about what a stark difference your time with George was compared to what Dani expected of him. Then you thought about an experience like that would be like with him. You couldn't help yourself.

"Well, I like that sometimes. It's treating your partner as a person," you almost joked. You took a sip of your liquor, some kind of lightness grew within you at hearing that George was also dissatisfied with his sex life. "Sometimes just feeling cared for is nice," you added, the weight of your words making your eyes drop to the floor, his gaze on you. Your cheeks almost flushed at the thought of George making love to you, what it would be like for him to worship your lips with more passion than you figured was possible.

He cleared his throat. "What about Ben?" He asked, taking a sip of his own drink. You could feel your face heating slightly from the alcohol and the warmth of the house. Maybe it was your body reacting to how needy you were for George. You now realized that the two of you were close enough that you could loop one of your fingers through a belt loop of his if you wanted to.

"He's a nice guy," you defended, shrugging slightly and biting your lip. "What do you think?"

George's sly attitude returned, an almost prideful look in his eye. "I don't know what he's like in the bedroom, love." You couldn't help but giggle, breaking some of the tension. "If I were to guess, I'd say he holds the door open for you and asks if you're okay every few seconds."

You pushed his side, the both of you laughing. "If you mean, he's a very suitable gentleman that's ready to marry the first girl that gives him a blowjob, then yes. You're right," you muttered under your breath making him chuckle again.

"What a man," he jested.

"Maybe if you suck his dick, he'll hold doors open for you too?" You mocked like you had given him an amazing idea and he shook his head, following your sarcasm.

"Gosh, I might have to try that." Your giggles were cut short as the kitchen door slammed open, making the two of you move apart a bit. Dani and Ben walked in, questioning smiles on their faces. Dani walked forward, wrapping her arms around George from behind and pressing her cheek to the middle of his shoulder blades. You took another drink, eyeing George as he seemed to stiffen in her arms.

"What are you kids laughing about in here?" She asked. Ben took the glass from you, taking a sip of your drink and wincing slightly while George bit back a smirk.

You swallowed. "We were just talking about our friend, Alejandro," you lied and George sent a wink in your direction. The night drew on, you and George finding each other's company more enjoyable for some reason. Your heart felt like a rock in your chest each time Dani would kiss his cheek or lay a loving touch on his arm. It was growing more and more evident that you were using Ben as a substitute for George, the guilty feeling in the pit of your stomach as you realized he deserved so much more than you.

You laid in bed that night looking up at your ceiling as Ben snored in your ear, his sweaty arm flung over your body. George's room was across the hall from yours, so you figured you would have heard if anything was happening between him and Dani. But in reality, it was none of your business, nor did it matter. Your door popped open softly and you propped yourself up on your elbows slowly to see who was intruding. George peaked in, gesturing behind him, and you furrowed your brows, making him roll his eyes as if to tell you not to ask any questions. You looked at the snoring pile in bed beside you and slipped out of bed, pulling a jacket over your nightgown as you followed him down the hall and stairs, sneaking out the front door. George drove the two of you to a small spot overlooking a distant town as you uncorked the wine bottle he grabbed on your way out.

You leaned back against his soft seats, taking a swig from the bottle and passing it to him. He balanced the bottle on his knee, looking through the windshield. "I don't think I mind missionary when the person I'm with isn't forcing me to love them," he threw into the air, taking another drink.

You turned to look at him. "Do you feel like Dani's forcing you to love her?" You tucked one of your ankles under your leg.

He shrugged. "I feel like she's expecting too much out of me already." His accent was deep and calming. You furrowed your brows, attempting to get him to continue. "My mum used to tell me," he paused, wetting his lips and smiling slightly, passing you the bottle, "When you love someone it's not this much of a strain. I thought it was bullshit and then I realized how hard it was to meet Dani's expectations. I don't feel like I'm myself."

You weren't really sure what to say. Your hand moved to open for him, offering the only support you could think of. A look flashed behind his eyes at your gesture, something soft and almost vulnerable. He took your hand, lacing your fingers together. "Why do you stay with her then?"

He brought your tangle of hands into his lap, his other hand tracing the bones on the back of your hand with his fingers. "She's too nice. Every time I go to break it off, she tries to fix it."

"Ben's bad in bed," you blurted out, George's head snapped up to look at you, a smile creeping across his lips. "And, I don't know, he's kind of disgusting if that makes you feel any better." You took a swig again. "But he's also way too nice. He's going to make some girl very happy someday, but he's wasting his time on me."

George snorted lightheartedly, making you giggle. "Damn, we sure know how to pick 'em, love," The two of you turned to each other again, your faces a bit closer than before. One of George's hands reached towards you, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear before grazing his fingers along your jaw softly. Your whole body leaned into his touch, feeling as if he was one of the necessities to sustain life and you were deprived. The way he could command your emotions and senses like it was nothing astonished you. You were almost aching for him as the smell of his freshly cleaned hair and the wine invaded your consciousness.

He drew you forward, hesitating slightly before closing the space between you for the first time since the eve of the wedding, your lips buzzing as they pressed against his. You wished you could bottle his taste to keep for a rainy day. He hummed into your kiss, almost as if he could feel the need as well. The hand that was still intertwined with his, slipped from his grasp to rest on the back of his neck, your fingers diving into his soft hair. He barely pulled away from you, only to dig his face into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing against your skin. "George," you hummed.

He sighed in pleasure, his warm breath against your ear. "Tell me what you want," he moaned softly.

"I want you," you almost begged, your breathing making your words come out unevenly. His cheek barely brushed against yours as he moved to look at you, his thumb almost playing with your lips again. He smirked at you softly before slipping out of his car, you following suit as you put the seats down in the back and quickly climbed back in with him. He pulled you into his lap, shrugging his jacket off before his lips met yours again. Your hips moved against his slightly as his fingers knotted in your hair, deepening your kiss roughly. You moaned, the sound vibrating against his tongue. He tugged your bottom lip between his teeth before his large hands snaked up your body, slipping beneath your jacket to pull it off, his lips and teeth finding your newly exposed skin as you raked your nails down his chest.

He groaned, his hands traveling up your legs underneath your nightgown, gripping your thighs and ass, urging you to ride him harder. You leaned off of him slightly, pulling your nightgown over your head, your eyes locking on his as he inhaled sharply, growing harder by the minute. He brought you close to him again, his lips pressing against your chest as his coarse hands ran up your back. He moved to lay you back, sitting on his knees to tug his shirt off, making you moan as he dipped back over you. He slunk down to press his lips against your stomach, moving slowly up your body to bury his face in your hair, grinding his hips against yours. "Degrade me, or I swear to God I'll fall in love with you," you whined and he chuckled darkly. It was the first time you had admitted how dangerous this was for you, but your high was too blinding for you to stop him. Having him pressed against you again felt too right.

"Okay," he almost whispered, pressing a lasting kiss against your lips before pushing himself off of you. His fingers went to the string of his pajama pants, lazily undoing the knot as his eyes burned into you. Before he gave you the satisfaction of seeing him naked completely, he tugged your underwear off, almost aggressively. "Such a slut." His hand snaked up your thigh before he shrugged out his pants and boxers, spitting into his hand and stroking himself. You groaned at the sight before he pulled your legs towards him, teasing his member against your entrance. "Look at you begging for me like you've never been fucked properly." Your eyes burned into him and his smirk returned before abruptly slamming into you, making you yelp. He leaned over you, slowly retracting before pushing into you with the same amount of force, making you moan. "Ben must not be fucking punishing you enough, stray," he growled, snapping his hips against yours a few times. His bit into your shoulder and your fingers dug into his upper arms as he moved faster, your mind blurring. "I fucking hate Ben," he groaned, pulling one of your legs up against his side to reach where you needed him most.

"Harder," you begged and a devilish grin broke out on his face.

He gripped the edge of the seat beside your head, driving himself into you deeper. His hand then moved to rest against your neck again, making excitement rush through your veins before he applied pressure. "What was that? You want me to fuck you?" It was like he was in his natural state as confidence oozed from him, his hand gripping your neck. Your edging climax was in reach for the first time in too long. He released your neck only for his lips to replace where his fingers were. He hovered close enough that he was resting on his forearms. He drove himself deep enough into you that your toes curled and you felt as if something had shifted between the two of you. Your arms moved to wrap around his torso, pressing your lips against his shoulder as he moved. The two of you tangled around each other, wanting to eliminate the space, tension, facades. He slowed his pace momentarily, moving to look you in the eye, his expression almost the exact opposite of his usual sadistically pleased one. He leaned down to you, your lips meeting with more passion than anyone had ever kissed you with before. Your mind knew only him.

"Fuck," you gasped, as he broke away from you, quickening he speed. He wasn't just fucking you anymore. You felt wanted in his arms now, his lips against your neck and one of his hands moving to grasp at your own above your head. Each of his thrusts brought you so much bliss you almost didn't want to finish yet.

George looked at you again, kissing your jaw briefly, his brows furrowed as if he was focused on not getting off right away as well. "Whatever you say in the next few seconds, I won't hold against you," he stated as if he wanted you to spill your guts to him.

You pulled his lips back to yours, kissing him hungrily again. "You too," you almost gasped. And then his eyes said it all, the mockery and teasing leaving the air completely. You reached your free hand up to his face, your thumb brushing against his cheekbone. "Tell me," you almost begged.

"I love you," he slipped. You felt yourself clench around him and he moaned.

"I love you," you uttered, a truer statement had never left your lips previous to this. He kissed you again, determined to get you to finish. And you did, feeling like months of tension were finally released from your body. He finished as well, and you urged him to ride out his pleasure still, not wanting his body to leave yours. Ever being further from him than you were right now would be hell for you, you decided. As he pulled out of you and slumped into the space beside you, you moved beneath his arm. He grabbed your hand and held it lazily to rest on his chest, holding onto you more like he was feeling the same about letting you go. "I thought you didn't like missionary." You were the first to break the comfortable silence.

He sighed. "You're different." You turned to wrap your arm around him and rest your cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat steadying.

"I was serious when I told you to degrade me, George," you murmured, never wanting this solace to end.

He chuckled slightly, leaning to press a kiss to your head. "I couldn't help it..." he almost whispered.

You brought his hand towards you, returning his kiss. "I can see why Dani's into it."

"It's never like that with Dani." His other hand moved into your hair, resting on the back of your neck with his thumb brushing softly against your skin. "It's never been like that, ever."

The drive home was almost therapeutic as the two of you talked over the radio, rolling the windows down to let the freezing air into the car. You felt lighter than you had in months and George looked at ease and content as he pressed his lips to the back of your hand every so often. Reality was far from the high the two of you were drifting through until you got back into the driveway, attempting to slink back into the house quietly.

As you finally made it into the dark corridor, the living room light flipped on. George's mother crossed her arms at the two of you, making George giggle. "Kitchen, now," she hissed through gritted teeth and your moods faltered. Your tired father nursed a mug of coffee in an attempt to keep his head up as you took a seat beside George at the kitchen table, drawing your jacket tighter around you. George's mother paced behind your father's chair and your heart raced. You had never actually been in trouble with her. "So, where were you?" She asked, her voice just above a whisper. George opened his mouth to respond but was shut down with a raise of her hand. "You know what, never mind. We know where the two of you were."

You were taken aback, but George remained cool and unaffected. "What do you mean-"

She cut him off again. "What the fuck is going through your heads? Are you crazy?" You felt faint. "This," she gestured between the two of you, "ends now."

"What are you talking about?" George nipped.

"Don't play dumb, George!" Her whispering grew a bit louder. "You think we're stupid? You think we didn't notice the two of you at the rehearsal dinner? And now to catch you sneaking around at this ungodly hour."

George leaned his elbows on the table. "You're crazy, you know that? There's nothing going on-"

His mother gave him a stern look and pointed at you. The two men in the room turned to look at you and you furrowed your brows. "Explain that." Your dad shook his head taking a sip of the black liquid sloshing around in his mug. Your fingers moved to touch where she was pointing on your neck and you almost hissed as your mind clicked into place.

"It's from Ben," you lied, your heart racing and stomach churning.

"It's not from Ben," she stated. "That wasn't on your neck when you got here and he fell asleep during the party and then was back asleep after that. You can hear him snore throughout the house."

George groaned. "It's just a hickey-"

"Listen to me. It's never just a hickey. You have two very nice people sleeping upstairs that don't share parents. Pull yourselves together." You winced as she stormed out of the room.

"We don't share parents," George reasoned. Your cheeks flushed and you figured you would faint.

You found it suddenly hard not to cry as you held back tears, feeling like an elementary schooler getting in trouble by their favorite teacher for the first time. "Just make it right, whatever that entails," your father stated, his voice raspy as he stood up, placing a hand on your shoulder. "I fucking hate Ben, though," he added as if to give you a nudge. As the door closed once more leaving the two of you alone, you exhaled finally. George silently held his hand out towards you and you took his gesture, lacing your fingers together once again.

[sweetlilpaulie]

Like father, Like son.

Paul X Reader

Request for Paul meeting The Parents. Yikes. Let’s see how this goes.

Warnings: Language

Enjoy, my cuties

~~~

“(y/n), help! Please!” 

You turned to the cute Beatle.

“Paul, I understand the whole ‘dress to impress’, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep bugging me about what tie you should wear.”

You turned back to the mirror and continued applying mascara.

“(y/n)...” Paul desperately pleaded, but you chose to ignore him. He looked frantically between the navy and the red one.  He decided finally that he didn’t want to risk it, and chose the plain black one instead.

His hands were so shaky, they repeatedly messed up the knot he had done thousands of times. 

You were done getting ready and noticed your lover’s plight. 

“Aw, poor darling is so nervous he can’t even fix up his own tie.” you teased.

Pouting, he handed the fabric to you. “Go, on. I can’t do it.”

Smirking, you tied it up for him. “Paul, you need to relax. My parents aren’t going to massacre you and drink your blood. They are normal people, and I’m sure they’ll love you!”

He smiled lightly at your words, but still fidgeted the entire ride to your home.

Then, you were at the door.

He was breathing heavily.

You glanced up at him. 

“Paul.” 

He looked down at you.

You grabbed his hand and squeezed it assuringly. 

You knocked on the door.

It sprung open instantly.

There stood your mother and father.

“Mum, Dad!” you hugged them tightly.

“This is my boyfriend, Paul McCartney.”

Your mother smiled kindly, and shook his hand

“Hello, Paul.”

“Ello, Mrs. (y/l/n).”

Your father shook his hand firmly.

“Good strong handshake, says a lot about a man.” he nodded in approval.

“Well, come in!” mother welcomed you both into the house.

Still holding his hand, you pulled gently, coaxing him inside.

“Please, sit.” Mrs. (y/l/n) gestured for you both to have a seat.

“Dinner should be in soon. I’ll get you some refreshments.”

“Oh, mother, don’t worry about that! Paul brought wine.” you emphasized that it was his idea.

“Oh, how thoughtful of you dear, thank you!” 

He handed her the wine, grinning. “Oh, it was no problem.”

She left with the drink and you and Paul sat on the sofa across from your father who was relaxing and smoking a pipe. 

“So, how did you two meet?”

You glanced at each other. 

You had been expecting the question, and knew he wouldn't approve of the truth. 

So you twisted it a little.

Hey, you weren’t lying! You just left a few things out.

“Well, Paul was doing a concert and I happened to be in the front row. Said he noticed me, and wanted to talk to me after. We went for drinks and he gave me his number.” Along with a nice shag you thought, but you kept that bit to yourself.

“That’s how we started going steady.”

He nodded and continued at his pipe.

Mother came back into the room. “(y/n), would you mind...?”

“Of course mother!” you stood up and followed her. You glanced back at a terrified Paul, and your inquisitive father. He had started asking another question, but you left before you could hear it.

“You know were the plates are.”

You nodded, and started to set the table. 

“So, how long have you been dating Paul?”

“About a year and four months.”

“Hmmm. Not your longest relationship.” she hummed mostly to herself. 

You frowned.

“I’m a lot more mature than I was four years ago, mother. This man means the world to me. And he feels the same.”

She said nothing after that, just checked up on the roasting chicken in the oven.

Once you had set the table and mum had placed the food on it, you called in the boys. 

Putting out his pipe, Mr. (y/l/n) walked into the dining room followed by a pale faced Paul.

“Darling, are you alright?” you whispered to him.

He swallowed, but then nodded, looking at you. 

You sat across from your mother, sitting next to Paul and your father.

Just before you and Paul were going to dig in, your father cleared his throat. 

“We like to say a prayer of thanks before we eat.”

You raised my eyebrow. Since when had your parents become religious?

But, you bowed your heads in reverence anyway as father prayed for the meal.

“Amen.”

You dug in.

The rotisserie chicken was succulent, along with the mince pies and Yorkshire pudding.

“Thank you so much Mrs. (y/l/n), the dinner was excellent.” Paul complimented.

Your mum blushed and muttered a thank you.

“One last question for you Mr. McCartney.”

Paul swallowed.

“Yes?”

“How much do you love my daughter?”

He relaxed. 

Looking you straight in the eye he replied “More than anything else in the world.”

He turned back to your father, confidence in his eyes for the first time tonight “I love your daughter, and I always will. I hope one day, I will be able to deserve her.”

All of your eyes widened.

“Paul, what are you saying..?”  you breathed.

He bit his lip.

“Well, this wasn’t really the way I wanted to ask you but...” he went down on one knee. “(Y/n) (y/l/n), Will you marry me?”

Your mouth stood agape, along with your parents’.

“Paul...”

“Please say yes.”

You grinned “Of course I will, you wanker!”

“(y/n), language!” your mother scolded, but smiling ear to ear, tears in her eyes.

“I guess now would be the time I would ask you for a blessing?” Paul held you close.

Your father made no movement. It was impossible to try and read his face in this moment.

Then he smiled. 

“I can see you love her. I give you my blessing. Your a good man Paul.”

Paul grinned “Thank you! This means so much to me!” he goes to give him a hug. Your father shoved him away. 

“The affection is not necessary.” 

“Can’t I at least play a song?”

“Oh, we’d love to hear you play!” you mother exclaimed. Your father nodded in agreement.

“Go on, then.”

Paul sat at the piano and began to play.

“Wise men say, 

Only fools rush in, 

but I can’t help,

falling in love with you.”

~~~

Hope you enjoyed!

[secondhand-trash]

Christmas Every Day

Ficmas day 4 aka 3 days till Christmas qwq

A/N: Oh hello, can you see the image of me struggling because I had no idea how to write a purely wholesome fic while being ridiculously behind on progress?qwq

Pairing: Midoriya Izuku x reader

Description: You didn’t care much about Christmas and your boyfriend was determined to change that.

Word count: 1835

I'm gonna tell you to listen to the Simple Plan version because I like that band and you should too

-

Unpopular opinion, but Christmas was really nothing special.

There, you said it. Were people gonna come for you now? It’s not that you hate it, you just didn’t get what’s the big deal about it. There were so many traditions and activities that people fussed about and literally every single shop out there was using it as a cash grab. 

It was nice that people could get into the festive cheer so easily and good for them but you just didn’t get the hype.

Your boyfriend on the other hand, was absolutely shocked when you nonchalantly told him that you didn’t care much about Christmas.

“What do you mean ‘Christmas is not important to me’?” Izuku’s eyes were nearly the size of the moon as he squealed. Unlike you, he adored all things Christmas. Everything was so changed up this time of the year and everyone was just so happy. He didn’t grow up in the wealthiest household, being only his mom and him, but Inko would always put extra effort into making something special for the holiday dinner each year and splurge a little to get him the things that he had wanted but didn’t have the heart to ask for.

Izuku associated Christmas with some of the happiest times in his life and he couldn’t believe that an occasion so special to him was just another day for you.

You shrugged, not quite bothered by Izuku’s bewilderment. “I don’t know,” you said, “I guess it’s just not something that I grow up to place a lot of value on.”

“But... but you do celebrate,” he asked with a tilt of his head, “right?”

“Eh. Not really from what I can recall.” You laughed when you looked at Izuku and saw that he looked like the fact that you didn’t like Christmas all that much was still processing in his head. You poked the side of his shoulder, “It’s fine! We can still do festive stuff together if you want to...”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say!” He exclaimed and grabbed your shoulders. You narrowed your eyes at him, your puzzled look a very sharp contrast to his agitated expression. The fact that he had such pure passion for things he loved was one of the many things that drawn you to Izuku in the first place but you really didn’t think you had seen him so emotional about something outside of heroism before. “So you just... don’t do things for Christmas? Not at all?”

You shook your head and he gasped. “That needs to change right now.”

“Huh?”

His mind was going at a speed that you couldn’t keep up with but although you had no idea where the conversation was going, that spark in his eyes still managed to catch you off guard.

You would give Midoriya Izuku everything you ever had just for that look on his face.

“You are celebrating with me this year.” He said with a wide grin and a look of determination that you didn’t have the heart to say no to.

“Izuku I love you but I’m not sure about that...”

“It’ll go wonderfully,” he beamed at you as he stood up, pulling you with him, “just you see, you’ll fall in love with Christmas in no time.”

Leaning yourself on the handle of the cart, you watched as Izuku browsed through the shelves. “’Zuku why are we here?” You asked, looking around the walls of spices. 

Mumbling under his breath, he stopped when he heard your question. “Buying ingredients for cookies, of course!”

Humming in response, you shrugged. Cookies were great no matter what time of the year it was. If his plans on making you love Christmas includes bribing you with sugary treats then maybe you would be down.

Your eyes widened as you saw him dumping jars of ginger powder and cloves into the cart. “Woah, woah. Calm down there. Do we really need that many?”

Glancing at the scribbles on his list, you questioned if you had made a mistake when you saw that all the ingredients were labelled in shockingly high numbers. Was he trying to feed a village? “It says so in the recipe.” he said as he took another look at the recipe he had written down in his notebook.

“Alright then.” Your eyebrows quirked up as you pushed the cart to follow Izuku to the next aisle where the sugar was put. It’s his idea after all, you were sure that he had it all planned out.

Placing the heavy bags on the kitchen counter, you looked around as Izuku rummaged through the kitchen for the utensils. His house was very average, not too big and just enough. There were pictures of him and his mom around the house everywhere. “It’s not much, but it’s home.” He had sheepishly said to you the first time he brought you back to meet his mother who immediately welcomed you with opened arms. It was a warm house and you could feel the amount of care that Inko went and put into creating the best environment she could for her son.

Warm and loving, no wonder why Izuku grew up to be the wonderful person he was. 

Peering from behind his shoulder, you watched with interest as he rolled his sleeves up and opened the recipe book. It seemed to be very well-used, with folds on the corner of the cover and many sticky notes poking out from the ridge. AS he flipped it open, you could see just which dishes were the family favourite at the many pages that were kept from falling apart by tape.

For the most part, you two just followed the recipe step by step. Getting slightly bored, you swiped a streak of flour onto his freckled cheeks and laughed when he whined at you to stop. Jokingly defending himself, he retaliated by smearing the half mixed batter across your forehead. “Can you not? Baking is a serious business here.” He pouted to which you only chuckled in response and bopped the tip of his nose despite his protest, leaving yet another while finger print on him. 

You still didn’t care much about the ‘Christmas’ aspect of the cookies, baked goods were in season at all times. But at least seeing your boyfriend desperately trying to focus while you messed around with him was fun.

By the end of the little baking session, the smell of ginger and cinnamon filled the air. Your suspicion was proved to be correct when you rolled out the dough to find that you had made way too much batches for just the two of you. Scratching the back of his head in embarrassment, Izuku suggested that he would bring some to a nearby shelter the next day to avoid all the perfectly fine gingerbread from going to waste. 

Waiting for the cookies to bake, you were lying on the couch with Izuku when you heard the sound of the key turning at the door. You sat up from the couch to see Inko opening the door, carrying bags and bags of groceries. Immediately getting up to help his mother with the luggage, you went up to the woman and she immediately pulled you into a tight hug when Izuku took the bags off her arms.

Pulling back, she cupped your cheek with one hand and smiled as she inspected your face. “It’s been a while, good to see that you’re looking as good as ever!”

“You too, mrs...”

“Inko.” She teasingly scolded you.

“Sorry, Inko.” You smiled.

You liked Inko. The first time you came to his house, you were fidgeting the whole time because you knew that Izuku was very close with his mom and you desperately wanted her to approve of you. To your relief, Inko took an immediate liking to you when her son introduced you and had treated you like her own ever since.

“Sit down, I’ll call you two once dinner is ready.” She slid her hands down your shoulders and gave them a soft squeeze.

“Do you need help with the cooking?” You could heard your boyfriend’s voice from the kitchen.

“No, no need.” Inko said as she made way to the kitchen and shooed his son out with a wink, “You two love birds go hang out.”

Izuku plopped down next to you on the couch with a faint blush on his face. Listening to the sounds of chopping and the starting of the stove, you laid your head on his shoulder and played with the tip of his fluffy green hair.

“Are you feeling even just a little bit convinced?” That look of excitement in your eyes when the timer for the cookies when off didn’t escape his attentive gaze.

“Hm,” you pondered as you looked up at him, “I guess not quite? It’s fun, but I still don’t get what’s so special about Christmas as a whole?”

As he was about to say something, he was cut off by Inko calling out from the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready!”

Dinner was wonderful. Inko made stew and even brought out an entire rotisserie chicken. It was clear evident that Izuku was Inko’s son because she also cooked way too much. You didn’t really think you had witness true nature of motherhood until she forcibly put food in your bowl many times despite you kept saying that you were full. 

Inko, being the loving mom she was, kept unintentionally embarrassing her son by talking about how cute you two were and how Izuku would gush about you to her when you’re not around all the time. Watching him trying to stop his mom from going on with flailing arms and stuttered blabbering. 

It was like you were eating with your own family and if that’s what Christmas feels like in his house, you could kind of start to understand just why Izuku loved Christmas so much.

“So...” Izuku asked you with a badly concealed anticipation in his eyes as he walked you back from his house.

You laughed, “Why are you so insisted on getting me to like Christmas?” You had enjoyed yourself that day but at your age, it was far too late for you to truly change the way you view the holidays entirely.

“I guess Christmas is something that brings me a lot of joy,” he said with his head slightly lowered, “and I want you to feel that type of giddiness that it brings me as well.”

He let out a small laugh and you almost felt bad. “But I guess it didn’t work as well as I thought it would, huh?”

Gripping his chin, a small squeal when you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. You craddled his cheeks and smiled at how flustered he was. It didn’t matter when or what occasion it was, you would still feel giddy for whatever he did.

“Don’t worry about it. When I’m with you, it feels like Christmas every day.”

[glasskaleidoscopes]

Chapter 15: Spoonful

Here is an excerpt of the new chapter, you can read the full version on wattpad:

“What’s the most you’ve ever eaten in one sitting?” Carolyn asked curiously.

Adrian pondered for a minute, finished chewing and swallowed. He took a drink of his soda then responded, “A couple years ago I got home from a particularly tiring baseball practice, and I was so hungry. I think I ate two whole frozen pizzas and the better part of a rotisserie chicken.”

Carolyn laughed in surprise, “Are you serious? I get full after eating just a couple pieces of pizza.” 

“I swear I ate that much. I just couldn’t get full. I’m pretty sure I even went back to eat more later that night.”

“Wow,” Carolyn replied, shaking her head, “You should be a competitive eater.”

Adrian laughed, “I probably could make a living like that. Eventually all that eating would catch up with me though.” 

“Well, I would like you regardless of your weight.” 

If you’d like to catch up, or start reading, here are the links!

Chapter 1: Hot Breath

Chapter 2: Staunch Silence

Chapter 3: Quick Breather

Chapter 4: Empty Swell

Chapter 5: Alarm the Sensorium

Chapter 6: Serene Cut

Chapter 7: Reluctant Slinking

Chapter 8: Flow Like Velvet

Chapter 9: Heaviness Lifted

Chapter 10: Pillowy Lips

Chapter 11: Fists Clenched

Chapter 12: Black Hole

Chapter 13: Bounce

Chapter 14: Obsessed

Chapter 15: Spoonful

[parsleybabe]

Home Made Simple - S01E04 - the biggest WTF yet

OMG, you guys, “masculine purple” Deco Lady is back!!!!! This one is gonna be good, I can already feel it. She also brought along the Tool Lady from episode one, and, of course, Host Lady and Chef Guy.

Today’s family is a mom, a dad, and their three kids (two boys, the oldest and youngest, and a girl, the middle child). They want to give the kids two new rooms, because so far they’re sharing one room that’s getting too small for all three of them. They actually seem to be a really sweet family, the parents are clearly hard working and the kids are very well mannered and sweet too.

If un-glorifying military-patriotism triggers you, please don’t click on the read more.

 So, here are my personal highlights of this episode:

 The mom is a full time student, the Dad is a police officer and also a soldier. Throughout the whole episode, his military service is a huuuuuuge talking point. I don’t know if this is the case, but I would bet that this episode aired on Veteran’s Day. It’s a very typically patriotic, very American episode, to say the least. People from anywhere else in the world, even military people, probably can’t relate to any of this. I definitely can’t.  (I just checked after finishing the whole episode, and, yes, s01e04 aired on November 13th 2011, two days after Veterans Day, surprise surprise) 

So, the gist is, the renovators want to help the family and make them feel comfortable before the dad is deployed to Afghanistan. Now, again, I’m not American and fail to understand how ANY sort of home renovation is going to make the family feel better about the dad being deployed for a third time for 1-2 years. There is no connection. Except maybe that the dad’s gonna feel better, knowing that the kids’ room situation is solved. But, for the family… Nope.

Okay, so Host Lady explains, the little girl is getting her own room, and the dad is “sacrificing” his “man den family room” for that. Aren’t “man den” and “family room” mutually exclusive? I’m confused. But I’m super happy that the gender bias found its way back in. Yaaay. Because when nobody in the whole family has their own personal room except for the dad who isn’t actually there for most of the time anyway, then giving that room up is a huge sacrifice, obviously.

The mom explains that the kids deserve more space and the parents want to display their accolades a bit more, but don’t have room to do that in the small room they are currently sharing. She talks about all three kids, but Host Lady chimes in that the youngest boy is “going to become a little man” much like the older brother who is now in middle school, and they get to move to the end of the hall, i.e. have a lot more freedom. She then adds, while grinning at the dad, that the little girl is “getting the eagle watch”, and that “he’s keeping an eye on her”. They laugh about it and the dad explains, he wants her to be more in the rear of the house, which I personally feel translates to making her feel safer and more protected despite her being alone in a room now, but Host Lady obviously takes it to mean that girls and boys get different treatment. She even stresses this more a bit later, when she explains that the girl’s room will be “closer to her mom and dad” and she will be”under the watchful eye of her father.” Now, sorry, but wtf? First of all, why not the watchful eye of BOTH her parents? And, secondly, hadn’t we already established that the dad is gonna be away in Afghanistan soon for a very long time?

When Host Lady tells the renovator gang that the girl is getting her own room, Deco Lady instantly goes, “She’s daddy’s little princess! She needs her own princess room” and didn’t I call it? Masculine purple always delivers. Doesn’t matter that the family hasn’t once mentioned anything about princesses at all. They said that she likes butterflies, and that’s it. But, okay. This instantly turns into a “butterfly princess room”.

As for the boys, there’s gonna be extra attention payed to their studies. They’re gonna get some work space and Host Lady points out how smart they are. Which is fine and all, commendable actually, just not when put as a contrast to the girl. WTF? It’s even sadder when they later show that the girl ALSO has several academic achievements, even a certificate of being “student of the year” to be put up on the wall, they just didn’t feel like mentioning it about her before. (But they do later, thankfully, although, only while talking about “the kids”, the only reason the viewers know it’s hers is because they hang the certificate in the girl’s room)

Chef guy comes in to show the mom “easy recipes that she can make in one day and have on reserve for the rest of the week.” I’m not really sure why he needs to show her that. Being a student, mom of three, and basically “single” most of the time - I’m sure she already got those down to a T.

They’re cleaning out the man den room and we’re getting a Swiffer Sweeper cameo. Ha! Can’t forget the product placement after all.

And then the kids come in. Host Lady immediately puts her hands on the girls head and gives me the creeps. The kid looks quite confused as well. Host Lady also carries around the youngest boy and talks about wanting to “put him in my pocket and carry him around with me all day.” Yikes. When we see her talk to him, he doesn’t answer just slowly backs away from her. OMG, why do they let her do that??? And when they all march out of the room, they do it military style, singing “Left. Left. Left, right left.” This is so massively creepy from any non-American standpoint. They are kids ffs.

Okay, now we got Deco Lady and the parents sitting at a table talking about what to do with the lamp in the girl’s room. And then mom and dad are left alone to craft butterflies to turn it into a “butterfly chandelier”. Which is cool, and they’re working together as they should. Except then we see Host Lady who exclaims cheerfully that the dad “would do ANYTHING for his little girl, even cutting out little tiny butterflies.” I don’t see any reason why that needs to be brought up. It’s not a major achievement for a father to do something for their kid. It’s not an achievement for a man to be crafting butterflies. It’s certainly not necessary to point this out so excitedly while not mentioning the mom at all who is doing exactly the same work. I’m kinda speechless at this point tbh.

Ohhh, now we’re back on discussing colors. So the boys love blue and green. And that’s immediately accepted by everybody, especially Deco Lady. No arguments over having to find a masculine color this time. I’m not saying it’s gender bias. Except it totally is.

In the man den there used to be a shelf containing the dad’s military memorabilia and honors. Host Lady is in awe when she sees it, and the renovators want to do something with this, even though the episode is supposed to be about the kids’ rooms. So, as a little side project, Deco Lady finds the most prominent spot in the whole house, the one where everybody always walks past and where your eyes fall on immediately when entering the house. She wants to put the military honor items there to display like in a museum and calls it a “pride wall” and “what this family is all about”.  And… I don’t know. My issue with this is: Firstly, all those items are the dad’s and have nothing much to do with the family, except that they’re a reminder of how often the dad is away. Secondly, the items are more about the country than they are about the dad as a person. Which, again, massive patriotism, just seems incredibly wrong for anybody who is not American, because the whole world is aware that patriotism so easily shifts into extremism. And shit like that creeps us the fuck out. And, thirdly, they want to do this as a surprise and won’t tell the dad about it. Which, okay, I get it, but again, this is sensitive stuff, and it feels like they should have asked if it’s okay to display it at all, because the people who will see this the most are the mom and the kids.

Oooh, they bring in Chef Guy to meet the mom and do so in front of an opened cabinet of brand name cleaning products. Perfect, he’s gonna feel right at home. Anyway, he’s gonna teach her to do a chicken casserole, because you cook it once and have enough left over for the whole week. Because, apparently, eating the same stuff again and again all week is a dream come true. In order to cook this, he buys a ready-made rotisserie chicken and shows the mom how to tear it apart and is surprised that she’s “a pro at this” even though she JUST told him seconds ago, that she always does the cooking for the whole family. They put chicken meat (the don’t use the skin, the beautiful crispy flavorful skin, I’m gonna cry), pasta, leek and breadcrumbs into the casserole. I have no idea why it’s gotta be bland on bland on bland on bland, and why Chef Guy has to explain this woman how to cook chicken in the first place. He doesn’t even season anything, ffs.

OMG, now he’s showing her “how to present this”, and basically pulls out a piece of the casserole and drops it in a freaking bowl. It’s not a joke, he really does. He calls it a “homemade masterpiece” but it looks like an ACCIDENT. He does sprinkle parsley on top, which is the only credit I give the guy for this whole episode.

Deco Lady is back and wants plastic flowers glued to a ready-bought lampshade, since “princesses love flowers”. Yes, plastic glued to store bought lamp. Again with the non-inventiveness… And the person who gets to do this is the dad so she adds with a wink, “You can thank me later, for giving you another really masculine project.” I think I’m gonna change her name to Gender Bias Lady officially now. Because she’s clearly in a league of her own. They do craft together and the dad pretends for a second that the glue gun is a real gun and puts it in his pretend holster (he is both a policeman and soldier, after all). To which Gender Bias Lady says, “You gotta turn it into a man thing, dontcha?” He is about as speechless as I am, because we all know that SHE started it, but she just says, “Okay, whatever gets you through the project.”

They do talk about the kids and how well they’re doing in school and socially and Gender Bias Lady states how that’s gotta make the dad proud, and he flat out tips his hat to the mom, because “she stays. She’s on them.” He also mentions how she used to work and go to school at the same time while being a mom and still doing it all and being awesome. And, I can’t believe that he is genuinely the only person on the whole episode who actually points to that. Gender Bias Lady replies solely with, “When do you leave?” and asks him how he got used to it and how hard it’s got to be and how he decided to join the military and how the family is so proud of him. I mean, yeah, sure, but she just nixed the mom completely as if she wasn’t important enough to mention. WTF?

Next comes the best recap ever: Host Lady explains how the dad “is the rock of the family” and how they “wanted to give his family something that would honor him”, so they’re showing the mom (who has been cooking all her life) “how to cook some simple recipes she can make on her own” – I’m not even going to declutter that load of bullshit.

Now Chef Guy is showing the mom how to make puff pastry pockets. Again, a recipe that “you cook on Sunday and then eat for the rest of the week”. 🤢 He lets the mom “season” the filling with salt and pepper to give it “a little flavour”. Again, no fucking spices whatsoever. How is this even a chef? (It’s also sadly cliché, because Chef Guy is a white dude and the mom is black). Anyway, he says they need to clean up and I’m all prepared for the product placement, but it doesn’t come. I’m shocked.

Next focus is on the girl’s room. They take curtain rods from the previous “den, the man room, the man cave” as Gender Bias Lady points out and spray paint them silver. They pretend it’s difficult (fun fact: it’s not). Also, the daughter gets a canopy over her bed which will be pink. They staple the curtain into the wooden frame, making me wonder how they are ever going to be able to take it down to wash it, but… maybe princesses are so clean that they don’t need their fabrics washed?

Tool Lady and the mom are working on the military shrine. Tool Lady is the only person to ask the mom if she’s afraid when the dad’s away in Afghanistan. And she admits she is, but instantly goes on to point out that he’ll be safe, because he’s careful. Sadly, that’s not how war works.

Gender Bias Lady and the dad are working on the girl’s dresser by repainting the existing furniture “a beautiful lavender” (hey, purple’s not a problem if you put it into a girl’s room, riiiiight?) and are decorating the edges with nailheads to make it look more cute or whatever.

They’re now hanging up the butterfly chandelier. It’s basically a normal lamp, and they put butterflies on strings around it. It’s supposed to look magical and cute, but it actually looks a bit like the butterflies are exploding out of the lamp… think horror movie insect infestation.

Okay, final touches, Host Lady and Gender Bias Lady are in the girl’s room and are decorating it with pink clothing items and fashion accessories. “It should look like she was playing dress up!” Gender Bias Lady chimes. Because clearly, while the boys’ room has a racing and basketball theme (yay sports!), what would be better for the girl’s room than a fashion theme? That woman really lives up to her newly given name.

Oooh, and then Host Lady plugs in some Febreze Noticeables to “get it smellin’ like a little girl’s room in here!” And Gender Bias Lady replies with, “’Cause it’s been boys, boys, boys, boys!” Do little boys smell different than girls? They probably do after a while of not washing the canopy curtains, I guess.

Montage time: the girl room is all pink, purple, silver, gold and sparkly. There’s also frills and arabesques and ballerina statues. There’s a bed and a dresser and a big mirror and a lounge chair. It looks nice, but a bit too overly pink, if you ask me. Also, there’s no desk for the student of the year. Nope. But okay. The boys’ room is blue and green an there’s a freaking sea horse on one of the beds (and I am freaking jealous, I want one too!). All in all, the boys’ room is a lot more colorful, there are red, orange and yellow specks of color added in everywhere, despite the overall blue-green theme. There’s also a teddy bear, a stuffed dog, a drum set, a basekt ball wall, books, games, colors to paint with and two desks to do homework on… It looks like a kid’s room that I would have loved to have as a little girl.

They show the kids their rooms, the girl room first. And while the little girl is mostly excited to “have my own room now”, Host Lady turns to the boys and asks, “I bet you’re bored of pink aren’t you?” Wow, aren’t we all… The boys’ room is very well received all around, and when they leave it to have a look at the military wall, they have to call the girl to follow, because she seems most excited about the boys’ room. Well. Tough luck.

Before talking about everybody’s reaction to the military wall, I wanna talk about what happens at the end of the episode as a big surprise: The “family” receives a video message from John Travolta. I put the word family in quotation marks, because Travolta actually addresses the dad only, and talks about how the family’s getting renovations so HE can enjoy it once he comes back from deployment. And then the dad gets a signed autograph from Travolta too. You might be wondering how Travolta fits in there, but it’s actually a no brainer, because I just found out that the show used to air on OWN (the Oprah Winfrey Network), and Scientology has been trying for decades now to convert Oprah by giving her exclusives and special treatment and whatnot. Anyway, it’s all about the kids’ rooms, which is why the dad gets a note from Travolta. Makes sense, right?

Anyway, back to the Military wall. When the dad gets to see it, he calls it a “shrine” (creepy to any non-Americans, but accurate). And, to be fair, he does say he likes it, but he also states that it makes him think of every time he went to Afghanistan and that he’s going to think of his fallen brothers when he walks past it and that it makes him think of going back there again. Which leads to the whole family getting teary eyed in front of the wall. Very clever thing to put right in the center of the house. And then Host Lady starts glorifying military service and points out how “sacrificing so much for all the right reasons” is such a great thing and that the renovators hope the family will keep going and be hopeful. The mom then even says that now the kids can come stand in front of the wall whenever they miss their dad while he’s away on deployment. There isn’t a single picture of the dad on that wall btw. Just medals and flags and certificates (and, at the end of the episode, also the Travolta autograph.).

I don’t wanna step on anybody’s toes here, but does nobody see how sad and impersonal and wrongly-focused this is????? I don’t  even blame the show for doing this, because this shit is ALL OVER any sort of American media. You get this in every movie, on every TV show – drama or documentary -, every news station regardless of political point of view. This is everywhere. The US media is filled with extreme patriotism that glorifies soldiers into heroes so you forget that first and foremost they’re people.

Sorry to end this on such a depressing note, but… I just can NOT for the life of me understand how so many people have been brainwashed into thinking this is normal or this is right. But, hey, happy renovated home y’all!

[eddiegirls]

omg denise speaking of snacks what kind of snacks do u recommend that are super easy to make? trying to get into the whole cooking thing slowly

easy to make snacks!! good question :) i like to keep stuff in the house to make snacks that are high in protein bc i'm bad at rmring to eat...so:

controversial opinion but i love any and all snacks including tuna salad...canned tuna (SOLID WHITE, not chunk, it's a lil more expensive but much better) with mayo, garlic powder, a little bit of dijon mustard, red onion, celery. i eat this w crackers, with rice and eggs, on sandwiches, etc

rice and eggs in general is a certified perfect snack

speaking of eggs: EGG SALAD! hard boiled eggs (i usually put eggs in water, bring to a boil, then turn off the heat and let sit for 10 mins or so, then put in an ice bath). squish them up w fork and tbh all u need to add is mayo + maybe salt, and eat it on a bagel, sandwich, etc

i like chicken salad too. you can buy a rotisserie chicken or cook it yourself (if i do this i usually poach in chicken broth with lemon/garlic). shred it, add mayo, greek yogurt, lemon juice, red onion, celery, s&p, eat on sandwiches

ramen is a good snack that's easy to elevate :) i usually just cook as normal and add like half the seasoning packet, soy sauce, sesame oil, rice vinegar, garlic powder, and sriracha or sambal. then i add an egg if i'm pretty hungry

this is controversial but QUICHE CAN BE A SNACK! and it's shockingly easy. buy a premade crust, whisk like 5-6 eggs with a little cream, add some other stuff (veggies, cheese, meat, honestly most combos that sound good will work...lmk if u want ideas) and bake it on 350 til it's done (usually 30-40 mins). microwave for a minute or so to heat it up. you can make your own pie crust if you want, it's not too hard and any recipe you find online would work (i've used this in the past but they're all similar)

bfast sandwiches are a good snack. i like to keep bacon or some other protein in the house. cook an egg (however you like!), melt some cheese on top by steaming it under the pan lid for 30 secs, also cook your meat, add the egg/cheese + meat to toasted bagel/english muffin/bread/etc. i always add mayo bc im crazy. bfast burritos are the same idea! they can be meal prepped at once and frozen too :)

quesadillas :) i cannot stress this enough...GET YOUR PAN HOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! //THEN// add vegetable/avocado/some neutral oil (not butter, the milk fat will burn quickly and it's not worth it, sorry to be controversial...ghee would work tho). if you're not sure if it's ready, flick a few water drops in...if they sizzle it's hot. put a tortilla down, add cheese (pre-shredded blend is fine!!) + garlic powder + whatever else you want. either flip one side over or add another tortilla if you want two. cook till brown then flip. if you got the pan hot enough (but not too hot! does not need to be smoking!) it'll be beautiful and crispy

nachos..layer tortilla chips with shredded cheese and refried beans (i usually add a little warm water to canned beans so they're a better consistency)....bake at 350 for like 10 mins (you just need to melt the cheese really). add salsa, guac or avocado, sour cream, onion, corn, cilantro, etc...whatever you like on nachos

[kaylewiswrites]

Drunk WIP Week Day 3 - The Forgotten Grave Society

For those of you who haven’t heard me yelling about this for the past three days, I’m shrugging off the burden of trying to look like I know what I’m doing, and introducing my WIPs the way I do when I’m drunk and excited. 

If you like assholes, superpowers, camping, and people who almost get along, check out Day 1. 

If you like slow burn lesbian romances, political intrigue, ragtag groups who come to love each other, and deserts, try Day 2. 

If you like empowered middle school girls who start to see dead people, then congrats, you are, temporally, in the right place. 

The Forgotten Grave Society

Premise:

Today is easy. The world building is like, nothing. 

TFGS takes place in a small town in a small state, where life on the seaside brings in tourists, and also, sometimes, ghosts, apparently. (I am really liking excessive commas today, aren’t I?) The story begins in the small town on the mid-Atlantic on the first full day of summer vacation, in a graveyard that is commonly overlooked. 

Characters:

Marcy: Here’s a girl who looks average, not tall or short, tan or pale, large or small, and has not one single physical feature that makes her stand out. Bank robbery is Marcy’s backup career, since so many people overlook her. But her personality makes up for the middle ground that she exudes: All or nothing. 

She’s either trashing her room, or organizing everything by color. She cooks gourmet meals or rips cold rotisserie chicken straight from the fridge with her hand. To her coaches annoyance, she’s unable to figure out jogging. You can’t just sprint and walk, he tells her. But she doesn’t really get it. 

Marcy spends a lot of time in her own head, and it’s very, very easy for her to miss where the conversations around her are going, while she takes a side path down another road, and by the time she brings up something she founds there, everyone else is miles away. She got laughed at a lot because of this, and now rarely talks with all of her track friends. 

Talents include: running, jumping, getting A’s the three times a year she studies, cooking, and being brutally honest without meaning to be brutal. 

Ava: Ava was born the cutest child you had ever seen. Perfect brown ringlets in her hair, cherubic round face and rosy cheeks, innocent freckles underneath her big round eyes, everyone just adored Ava from the moment they saw her. And then she opened her mouth. 

Ava hates having high expectations held over her head, so she’s learned how to dash them as soon as possible. On the first day of first grade, the teacher called on Ava to introduce herself first, (since she would obviously become the teachers favorite, by the look of her). Ava stood up on her chair and gave a loud, scientific description of how babies were made. She’s been a class clown ever since. 

Known talents are: Causing a scene, making fart noises, disrupting the class. She hides the real ones: sculpting and casting, non-fiction reading, getting under Marcy’s skin (ok, maybe she doesn’t hide that last one)

Ronnie: Everyone knows Veronica is going to become some big engineer or bio-chemist or astrophysicist. Her grandmother was the first black professor at the Marine Biology Department that’s housed in their small town,  so she knows she’s got big shoes to fill. 

But the truth is, Ronnie doesn’t know what she wants to do. She hates that question. You know what she likes? Reading. She likes reading her text books and science theory books, and she likes reading cheesy romances, too. She likes conducting complicated experiments, sure, but she gets just as much pleasure out of the simple steps of her skin-care routine. She relishes in routine and anything she breaks down into small rituals she can. Making a sandwich. Programming a robot. All straightforward if do it one step at a time. 

Talents include: almost anything STEM related, designing inventions, choosing cute outfits, memorizing song lyrics, and coming up with really cool club names.

Plot

Its the first day of summer, and three very different girls from different classrooms and different friend groups somehow find themselves in the same graveyard. 

While there, they realize that a lot of these graves are like, really, really old. People aren’t putting flowers out for them like they do for the new ones. The girls decide to remember those graves for them, and thus the club is born. 

They spend the whole summer hanging out in a graveyard, cleaning stones and making bouquets of definitely-not-stolen-from-people’s-yards flowers. But when it’s time to go back to school, they feel themselves being torn apart by clubs, friends, and work. When they meet in the graveyard again to try to figure out what to do about this, they see a ghost. 

Of course ghost-seeing powers would kick in in September and not June, they think, but discovering the supernatural is real IS a good motivator for spending more time with each other. The Forgotten Grave Society decides to be both about sitting around graves eating snacks on warm summer mornings AND solving ghost problems so they can move onto the next life/afterlife/whatever you believe in (this book takes no assumptions into what happens after the ghosts leave). 

A short snippet is under the cut if you’d like to read! I’m always open to questions, comments, and critiques, so don’t be afraid to give your thoughts. I’m tagging @aomory for this post. If anyone would like to be tagged in more Forgotten Grave Society stuff, let me know! The WIP page is here. 

"Do you think they know?" Ava asks after two weeks of remembering. It's early July, hot and hazy, and humid enough at 9 in the morning that all three are planning on battling tourists to take a dip in the ocean later in the day. They remembered a woman that day, Elizabeth Holson, who died in 1931, and now they're eating lunch in front of her grave. The three girls sit with identical bags of salt and vinegar chips (on sale) and fruit cups filled with syrup. “What’s we’re doing, I mean.”

"You're asking if we believe in life after death," Ronnie responds.

"Well, I guess it's implied," Ava shrugs.

"No." Marcy shoves some chips in her mouth.

"Well, that’s decisive," Ava snorts.

"It seems like a natural, human response to death for me," Marcy states. "Think about it. You see someone die, you realize that one day you will too, and you panic. The idea of nonexistence terrifies people. So they say, no, when you die you go to somewhere better, where you're always young and your whole family is there, or all your stuff is there, or you come back to earth as something else. It's either that or admit that you and everything you know is temporary and unimportant to the world as a whole."

"That's logical, I guess," Ronnie admits. "But I like the idea that something comes next."

"Exactly my point."

"We learn about heaven in Sunday School. I'm going to go ahead and believe in that. It sounds the best."

"In science we learn that matter can't be created or destroyed, only changed. Maybe that happens when we die."

"What do you mean?" Marcy asks. "When, like, a flower dies, it's just gone right? It'll break down into nothing." She gestured at the dead flowers still sitting in front of their first grave. What remains of them are shriveled and dark.

"You're right about it breaking down, but not into nothing. It's releasing carbon dioxide into the air, bugs and larvae and fungi are eating it and turning it into energy the same way we do with food, releasing it as waste, which continues to break down further. All the different parts that made it a living flower are separating back into nature. Remember the Periodic Table? Everything in the universe is made up of those elements, and nothing can ever be added or subtracted."

"So a human body does the same thing. If it's not cremated, it breaks down into it's elements," Ava follows. "What does that have to do with an afterlife?"

"You're body breaks down, but your body isn't the thing that goes to heaven, right?"

"No, it's your soul."

"Exactly. So if nothing can be removed or added from the equation, I think we might be reincarnated."

Ava chews on the tiny plastic spoon that came with her fruit cup. "You're assuming that a soul is made of matter."

"Everything else is."

"But then wouldn't we be able to see it? Feel it?"

"The air around us has mass, but we can't see it, and can usually barely feel it."

"Wouldn't it have to be made of some of your elements?" Marcy asks. "Someone would probably have noticed it by now."

"There could be different molecular constructions that we don't have the technology to detect, a new isotope we haven't thought to look for-" She realizes she’s lost them. "Science is growing every day. Sometimes impossible things are just things that haven't been explained yet."

"You've been thinking about this for a while?" Marcy asks.

"No. Not until Ava just asked."

"This is what we get, making friends with the smart girl," Ava laughs. "So. What's your theory's answer to my question? Do you think these people know what we're doing?"

Ronnie thinks for a moment. "I doubt it. That would imply that they are somehow omniscient about anything that is connected to their past lives. Do you guys have any memories of your old graves?"

"That's a weird thought," Ava shudders. "And no."

Marcy shakes her head.

"Which means that people, or most people, disconnect from their old life when they start a new one. Or it means that my theory is wrong," she chuckles.

"So if you two don't think they know, why are you doing this?"

"I don't think it matters if they know or not," Ronnie says.

"It's like when you do someone a favor,” Marcy says before chugging the syrup from her fruit cup. “If it's important that you take credit for it, then you're not doing it for them. You're doing it for you."  

"Wow. Such kind words from the girl that split open Hannah Bover's lip over a boundary dispute."

"Her foot crossed the line, that shot shouldn't have counted-"

"So you elbowed her in the face?"

"I like doing it," Ronnie cuts in, knowing how long Ava could keep Marcy on this track. "It's peaceful, and it makes me happy. Do we need a reason?"

"Maybe we're subconsciously afraid of being forgotten, so we're trying to remember everyone else. I know I want people to say my name after I'm gone. Everyone deserves to continue existing,” Marcy says with a shrug.

"So Ronnie comes for herself. Marcy comes for them."

"Who do you come for?"

Ava wraps her arms around her legs, as if she were cold. "Neither of your theories allow for ghosts."

She avoids their eyes, and looks very un-Ava-like all of a sudden.

"Do you come for ghosts?" Ronnie asks in the most neutral voice she can manage.

"No," she says defensively. "I mean, I-I didn't. I like doing this, and- just- wouldn't it be cool? If they were watching us, from the shadows, appreciating it?"

Ava becomes more and more nervous as the silence stretches on. Finally, Marcy smiles.

"You're assuming that they're all nice."

[consumingromance]

Pred and Prejudice: 4 In which a predator has a big breakfast and needs to work it off

Friday morning, Roque  pulled up in the company car, a tiny hatchback that was plastered with advertising for the company in garish colors, and angled to park on the road in front of his client’s house. Right in front of several campaign signs.

He felt his stomach drop when he saw the signs. Suddenly he was feeling very unwelcome in that house, even though he was there to work. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised. They were rich pred people, that was his demographic. It was just... they’d seemed really nice and he hoped maybe they were progressive or at least weren’t the kind of people who would vote for someone who openly supported legalizing eating prey.

Now more than ever, he knew it was probably a good thing he’d turned Alex down. He could never date anyone who supported that orange jackal. Not that Alex necessarily supported his parents’ politics, but Roque  wasn’t about to ask. He sighed heavily, and hopped out of the car to gather his supplies.

He entered in his code at the front door, and waited as the electronic lock whirred and opened the door. He was sort of dreading seeing Alex now, but it was early enough he probably wouldn’t have to worry about that for a few hours.

He found himself tiptoeing into the entryway. It was so big and empty, barren in that stark sort of way rich people liked to call minimalist. He felt exposed, the place was too open, it felt unsafe.  Why did he feel like a thief sneaking in here? It was the same house. They were good employers. But now he felt unwelcome, maybe hated behind his back or conditionally tolerated as long as he walked a clear subservient line.

Just do your job, and remember to breathe.

Roque  didn’t see Alex at all that that day-- was he even home? Roque  even checked the garage to see if there was a car in the third spot. He did so quickly since he wasn’t supposed to be in there-- and he didn't want to get caught and accused of being up to something. A third car was still there, sitting in the dark. He shut the door and got back to work.

He felt kind of guilty. He hoped Alex wasn’t hiding in his room on his account. This was Alex’s home, he shouldn’t feel uncomfortable in his own space. Roque  also didn’t like the idea that Alex didn’t want to talk to him at all anymore-- It sort of hurt, like Alex was blocking him from his life completely just because Roque  had told him ‘no.’

It reminded him of middle school when someone had outed him and after that no one would talk to him. But now it was because he didn’t want to date a guy--well didn’t want to date this guy…. More precisely, because he did want to date this guy but couldn’t because his paranoia meant he wasn’t allowed to do anything remotely uncertain or exciting. He remembered the signs in the front yard and shivered. Or potentially dangerous.

Except...thinking about Alex made him happy. The idea of them together made him feel sort of warm inside. He'd spent the week thinking about Alex and got through his days imagining scenarios where things could be different and he'd been able to say yes. Then his nights were filled with dreams about Alex...dreams that never come true because he’d never done anything like that with anyone and he certainly couldn’t think about having something like that with Alex.

Roque  knew a relationship with Alex was... problematic to say the least, and that he should be glad Alex was respecting his boundaries and leaving him alone. But did it have to be this alone? He left the house without seeing Alex once, and wondered if Alex had been thinking about him, too.

He spent the weekend trying to not think about Alex, and he’d tried not to get his hopes up when he returned to the house first thing Monday morning. He actually saw Alex, up and dressed before Roque  had gotten out of his car. He passed Roque on the way out without so much as looking at him, which further supported the feeling that Alex was avoiding him.

He didn't see him again that day.

Alex was finishing breakfast when he got there on Friday, only to head upstairs to apparently sit out Roque ' cleaning session in his room. Roque  tried not to let it get to him. But found himself calling out to him.

“Hey, Alex?” he called

Alex paused, turning back to look at him.

“You know, you don’t have to avoid me,” he said. “Really. It’s your house and I...I don’t hate you or anything. In fact you’re pretty nice and I appreciate that you’re trying to be respectful but you can still talk to me and be out here doing whatever it is you normally do.”

“Oh,” said Alex, rubbing the back of his head and grinning sheepishly. “Um...yeah..sure.” He then turned to head upstairs.

Roque  sighed heavily. He guessed it was too late to even think about being friendly with Alex. He decided to focus on work as he hoisted the bucket of hot water and mixed his cleaning solution. The company’s motto was getting things done the old fashioned way, on hands and knees. He wondered if maybe the reason so many cleaning services were staffed by prey was they tended be smaller, better to get closer to the ground. Especially if they shifted to half-form.

He got into a rhythm of scrubbing and lost himself in the work. Soon he began to sing softly, careful not to be loud enough to wake Alex.

“Country roads, take me home, West Furginia”

“Good looking and a good singer? That is just unfair,” came a familiar voice.

Roque  jumped, startled out of his scrubbing as he turned to look at Alex in surprise.In the process he slipped on the wet floor and reflexively grabbed at the bucket pulling it over in the process.

“Whoa!” Roque  cried, just before the water splashed over him. He shifted in alarm as the bucket overturned, assuming a now-soaked fuzzy half-form.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Alex asked through barely contained laughed. He walked over and offered out a hand, grinning.

Roque  made a grumbling sound almost like a small growl and glared up at Alex. His soaked ears curled back in annoyance as Alex continued to chuckle.

“Sorry, I can’t help it,” said Alex, “you look so cute when you’re annoyed.”

Roque  brushed aside Alex’s hand and got to his feet on his own. “I’m fine,” he said.

"Sorry there, dude, didn't mean to scare you... again.”

“"I wasn't scared!" he said, unable to suppress the slight squeak in his voice. Alex's grin widened at the sound, and Roque ' ears fell even further back. He didn't even know they could go that far back, but Alex managed to rile him up with one stupid (And admittedly good-looking) smile. "I wasn't scared! You’re just...really quiet and sneaky. Why were you sneaking up on me?”

“I wasn’t? I was just walking and you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings. I thought prey were supposed to be good at that. I don’t know if you’d survive long in the wild.” Roque ’s glare darkened and Alex held his hands up. “Hey - kidding! And I’m sorry for laughing. This is just the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all day.”

He tossed a hand towel at Roque , which was big enough to use as a towel in his current form. It flopped over his head, and Roque  grabbed it, grudgingly drying off.

“Funniest thing you’ve seen all day? It’s like ten in the morning,” muttered Roque  as he scrubbed the water from the insides of his ears.

“Yeah,” said Alex, “This is literally the first funny thing I’ve seen today and it’s hilarious. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get my breakfast and then start my workout.” He turned with a grin and opened the fridge, head disappearing behind the door for a minute. “I’ll try not to sneak around too much.”

He winked again as he pulled out a container which he put on the counter. He opened it to reveal half a rotisserie chicken, then turned to grab a plate from a cupboard.

“You’re not going to eat that whole thing for breakfast, are you?” Roque  asked, halfway joking, just to have something to talk about other than his embarrassing fall. “Didn’t you already eat?”

“Only some cereal, and I’m still hungry,” Alex laughed again. “Besides, I need protein for my workout,” he replied as he pulled the chicken from the container with a fork.  He put it on his plate and sat down at the kitchen island, still watching Roque as he started to pull the meat from the carcass.

Roque  wasn't sure what to say about that, so he decided to focus on composing himself enough to return to full human form. He was still a bit damp, but the towel had helped. He hung it up, then picked up his brush to get back to work.

But Alex was still watching him, and he could feel heat returning to his cheeks. An entire leftover chicken for breakfast? Was that really normal for this house? He knew he should get back to work, but it was hard to focus now with Alex’s distracting presence right behind him, watching him.

“Is me scrubbing the floor really that interesting?” asked Roque , dryly.

“Not particularly, but there’s not much else to watch,” Alex said. He tore off a chicken leg and proceeded to lower the whole thing into his mouth. He closed his teeth around it and pulled the bone out, sucking it clean. Licking his lips, he asked, “Is watching me eat that interesting?”

“Kind of…” Roque  admitted. “Do you normally eat like that or are under the delusion that that’s attractive?”

“Mostly just wanted to see your face,” said Alex. “Since you were already staring, I figured I might as well give you something to look at.”

Roque ' ears flattened as Alex laughed again, and he deliberately turned around to break eye contact. Of course, that meant there was a pred-- a very alert, very watchful pred-- at his back, but he really, really didn't want Alex to see his blush. He cleared his throat and spent the rest of Alex's second breakfast focusing on scrubbing the floor.

Alex finished eating soon enough and disappeared upstairs, only to reappear a few minutes later in skin tight yoga pants and completely shirtless.He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge before heading into the living room, well within view of the kitchen and dining room.

Roque  starred.

He couldn't help it. Apparently Alex hadn't been joking about working out, and it was just his luck that the workout session was going to be right in front of him. He really, really did not want to get caught staring.

Alex laid down a mat in the living room,and began his stretches, warming up in slow, steady movements. The open-floor plan meant there was nothing to stop Roque ' gaze from following every shift of muscle, and every twist of Alex's hips.

He coughed, trying to cover up his embarrassment, but the noise got Alex's attention (as if he hadn't realized Roque  would be able to see him, the jerk.) "What are you doing?" he asked, glad to hear that he sounded disinterested and definitely not distracted by the way Alex bent his body into an A-frame.

“Yoga, what’s it look like?” asked Alex.

“I thought you going to work out meant….like… going out... like… I mean, don’t you have a gym membership or a country club or something?”

Alex grinned, pulling back into a pose that showed off his well-toned arms and abs. Roque  flushed as Alex watched him, head tilted in interest “Trying to kick me out of my own house, Roque ? Am I that distracting?”

“N-n-no,” he said, biting his lower lip as he glowered. He couldn’t quite bring himself to look away, though.

I don’t need to go all the way to the gym, I can do push-ups and sit-ups here," Alex replied, turning into a new stretch. "If I need some weights, then maybe I'd go work out on the machine, but I don’t want to get too into it right after eating. Need to give my body time to digest.

He held still in the pose, giving Roque  a good view of his profile and the taut line of his body. From all appearances he was totally engrossed with the form, but Roque  could see the smile on Alex's face because he knew that he had Roque ' full attention.

After you eat your body diverts blood flow to the stomach when you’re digesting, but if you’re working out, then you need blood flow to your muscles," he said. "If you’re trying to do both at the same time, you might make yourself sick. So I’m just going to warm up with some nice, gentle stretches.

He flowed down shifting into a position where he lay on his belly and lifted his chest upward on his arms, chest arched backwards and then he lifted himself up so only this thighs touched the mat.

Roque  forced himself to look away, sighing darkly under his breath. Alex had to be the single most obnoxious guy he had ever met in his life, ever. If Alex wasn’t in the room, Roque  would have made an ‘ugh’ sound to rival a middle school girl. As it was, all he could do was force himself to focus on his work. Still, he couldn’t help looking up occasionally and being a bit awed by Alex’s flexibility.

After the yoga ended, Alex moved on to crunches, which were easier to ignore. But then he started on push ups, and that wasn’t as easy to ignore. Alex’s back curved into his butt in a very distracting way. He’d also had opted to keep his knees on the mat in favor of half-push ups, rather than full length. Roque  was pretty sure Alex would be able to do normal pushups if he wanted to, but he bit his tongue to keep from saying anything that could be construed as flirting. He tasted blood when Alex started lowering himself down to the mat, adding a twist of his hips to the simple exercise that made it look slightly obscene. Roque  was definitely staring now.

Damn it - now I’m the one acting like a creep. Roque  scolded himself. He’s just going about his business. He probably does this all the time. Me being here isn’t any reason to break up his routine. Although he would need to vacuum in the living room eventually, so Alex would have to get out of the way at some point.

At the moment Roque ’s cell phone rang. He scrambled to pull it out of his pocket and checked the number. This afternoon's client, so he had to take this.

"Hello," he said, pausing his work. "Roque ! Oh, I'm so glad I caught you-- I'm sorry but we've had a family emergency and I have no idea when we'll be back in town. I've already called the agency to handle things, but I wanted to make sure you knew not to come by."

"Alright, thank you for letting me know," Roque  said, then added, "I hope everything's ok."

He slipped his phone back in his pocket. Then he realized Alex had stopped his set to look over at him.

"I'm sorry," said Roque . "it was another client. I'll get back to work." He didn’t want to look like he slacked off.

Alex chuckled at Roque ’ apology. “No worries, I’m not going to get mad at you over a phone call.” He paused, getting to his feet. “I don’t want to pry, but is something wrong?”

Roque  shook his head, smiling softly. "No...well, maybe," said Roque , "for my afternoon clients. They canceled on me, family emergency. I hope everything's all right.”

Alex’s ears perked up a bit. ”Oh yeah? That’s too bad. Um...” He scratched the back of his head, looking away for a moment. He went quiet for a second, as if thinking, and then gave Roque  a smile. “Uh, if you have nothing else to do... Maybe you could stick around for lunch? Hang out a little?”

Roque  froze. Stick around for lunch . Damn it. Had he just told a pred no one would be expecting him anywhere this afternoon? All of his worst fears he’d had in the very beginning came flooding back.

Alex winced and held up his hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that ,” he said. “Geeze, now you look really terrified.”

“I’m not- I’m sorry,” said Roque . “It’s fine. Sorry.”

“Don’t lie to me,” said Alex. “Did I really put it like that?  Of course you took ‘ stay for lunch ’ wrong. You’re prey, I’m a pred, and I should probably make a mental note ever use the words ‘you’ and ‘for lunch’ or any other meal in the same sentence.”

Roque  actually laughed, some of the tension easing away as Alex tripped over himself as he tried to backpedal on his poorly phrased offer.

"Yeah, so... lunch is us, eating together," Alex clarified, slight flush on his cheeks. "Lunch is not you and it would be nice to have some company."

"Um...I...thank you for the invite,” said Roque , cautiously, “but I couldn't. Like I said..."

“I-it’s no trouble if you want to. I, uh, was thinking of ordering a pizza, and the place I like only does full size pizzas and if I do that I’ll end up eating the whole thing myself. Better to have someone to share with, right?”

Roque  smiled nervously. He didn’t want to have to tell him no again. Not when he regretted having to turn him down the first time. He also really did like pizza.

Alex seemed to take his hesitation as no response meant no, and he deflated a little.“I sound like an idiot…” said Alex. He hung his head. “I’m sorry. I talk a lot when I’m nervous. I’d just...really love to just hang out when you’re not busy working. Nothing else.” He held up his hands in front of him as if to surrender. “I promise, I have no intention to try to eat you or any other unwanted advances.”

Roque  blushed, ears flicking back. He didn’t want to seem hysterical. Jumping at every shadow like it was about to gobble him up. He hadn’t really thought...maybe he was just a little worried but he didn’t want Alex to think that he was paranoid or that he’d never trust him because he was a pred. Even if he really didn’t fully trust most preds.  “I- I didn’t think-”

Alex chuckled. “Chill, I’m kidding, I’m kidding-- well, not about the invite. Offer still stands, if you’re interested.”

"You're really generous," said Roque , looking away for a moment before meeting Alex’s eyes again. "I mean...I guess if I'm off work I'm free to do what I want to do. Hang out with a friend?" He smiled softly. "It's just weird, hanging out somewhere I work. Like, I'm not… And you’re...You know…” He shrugged and gestured vaguely “We're kind of from different worlds."

Alex’s response was immediate-- his ears perked forward, and tail gave a hopeful wag as he realized that Roque  hadn’t said no again. Roque  felt himself returning that smile.

He couldn’t say no, not when it would make Alex’s ears and tail droop and wipe away that smile. Sharp teeth or no, Roque  wanted to see that smile. Yeah, they were from different worlds but did that have to be a bad thing? Different worlds coming together, something new, dangerous maybe...but maybe not so dangerous and definitely exciting. Could staying for lunch really hurt?

[wsmith215]

Instant Pot Chicken Noodle Soup

Sit down, rest yourself a moment, and settle in with a bowl of Instant Pot Chicken Noodle Soup. It won’t demand much from you—just a quick 15 minutes of ingredient prep—and you’ll be rewarded by soul-soothing spoonfuls of nourishing, healthy goodness.

Are you tired today? I am. I realize that “tired” is a pretty lame way to describe yourself, because really who isn’t?

Trite though this adjective may be, tired is how I feel right now, and Instant Pot creamy chicken noodle soup is the recipe I need to revitalize my weary soul.

If you’re feeling run down, it will give you comfort and respite.

If you are feeling optimistic, it will keep your momentum strong.

If you’re somewhere in between, it will tip the scale in your favor.

Its breezy 15-minute prep time means we can spend less time cooking and more time watching cheesy, feel-good movies, trying a new baking project, or calling loved ones.

Though the activities that fill your day may look different than mine, let this Instant Pot chicken vegetable soup be there for you at the end of it too.

In the flavor department, this soup is full-on classic jut like my original Creamy Chicken Noodle Soup recipe.

It’s clean, cozy, and the kind of thing I like to eat when I want my dinner to give me a hug. Thyme and bay leaves make this soup stand out above other run-of-the-mill chicken noodle soup recipes you may have tried, as does the method of pressure cooking.

Plus, just like my top-rated Crock Pot Chicken Noodle Soup, this soup tastes wonderful leftover.

Make it once, and enjoy having a healthy, revitalizing meal on hand whenever you need it.

How Do You Pressure Cook Chicken Noodle Soup?

The Instant Pot (here is the model I own and love), makes this soup incredibly weeknight friendly, because every element of it from the veggies, to the chicken, to the noodles cooks in the Instant Pot from start to finish.

Just like most well-known chicken noodle soup recipes (like the Swanson chicken noodle soup I remember my mom cooking), this recipe tastes like home.

It’s deeply comforting in the way only a chicken noodle soup can be, and its wholesome lineup of ingredients make it healthy enough to enjoy on repeat.

If you want to make chicken noodle soup from scratch the easy way, you’re come to the right place!

The IngredientsBone-In Chicken. I elected to make this Instant Pot chicken noodle soup with chicken breasts, though you can swap thighs if you prefer. My one pinky-out directive is that you use bone-in chicken breasts or thighs.

Not only is bone-in chicken more tender, but the bones themselves help to flavor the broth, making this recipe the best Instant Pot chicken noodle soup with chicken breasts (or thighs) that you’ll try.

I have not tried making this Instant Pot chicken noodle soup with a whole chicken yet, but I suspect that it would be delicious and if you decide to try, I’d love to hear how it goes!

Olive Oil + Butter. Used to sauté your mirepoix, and they add delicious flavor to the soup.Mirepoix. The trinity of chicken noodle soup goodness! Onions, carrots, and celery are always a delicious trio, and they bring Vitamin-A, Vitamin-C, and antioxidants to the soup.Seasonings. A combination of pepper, salt, dried oregano, fresh thyme, and bay leaf added just the right amount of flavor to this soup. Make sure you use fresh thyme here (it’s worth it).Chicken Broth. The flavorful liquid base for our soup.Egg Noodles. I used whole wheat egg noodles to lighten things up. If you’d rather make an Instant Pot chicken soup with rice, try my Creamy Chicken and Wild Rice Soup (there are instructions for the Instant Pot).The DirectionsSauté the veggies in the Instant Pot. I like to use mix of butter and olive oil, though you can use all of one or all of the other if you prefer.Add in the herbs, seasonings, and water.Place the chicken pieces on top.Close and cook. Once the Instant Pot comes to pressure, cook for 10 minutes, then let the pressure release naturally for 10 minutes.Open, remove and shred the chicken, and stir in the uncooked noodles.Five minutes later, the noodles will be perfectly al dente, the chicken juicy, and your soup ready to serve. ENJOY!

Short Cut Option – Rotisserie Chicken

If you prefer to make this Instant Pot chicken soup with rotisserie chicken that you already have on hand, this is an option as well. Your broth won’t be as flavorful, but it’s a speedy choice.

To Use Rotisserie Chicken: Omit the bone-in chicken from the recipe, then stir the cooked, shredded chicken into the soup at the very end.Make Ahead + Storage TipsTo Make Ahead. Chop your mirepoix ingredients up to 1 day in advance, and store them in an airtight storage container in the refrigerator.To Store. Place cooked and cooled soup in an airtight storage container in the refrigerator for up to 4 days.To Reheat. Rewarm soup gently in a medium saucepan on the stove over medium-low heat until hot. You can also reheat the chicken soup in a microwave-safe bowl in the microwave.To Freeze. Store soup in an airtight freezer-safe storage container in the freezer for up to 3 months. Let thaw overnight in the refrigerator before reheating.To Prepare Shredded Chicken in Advance (for stirring into soup or for any other recipe. See my guides for How to Cook Shredded Chicken (stove top), Instant Pot Chicken (this also works with frozen chicken), or Crock Pot Shredded Chicken.What to Serve with Chicken Noodle SoupRecipe VariationsInstant Pot Chicken Noodle Soup with Spinach. At the end of cooking, stir in 4 ounces (about 4 or so big handfuls) of chopped baby spinach leaves until wilted.Instant Pot Chicken Noodle Soup with Lemon. Stir in 1 to 2 tablespoons of lemon juice into your soup at the very end of cooking for a bright pop of flavor.Gluten Free Instant Pot Chicken Noodle Soup. Swap the egg noodles for gluten free noodles. Since gluten free noodles cook quickly and can become gummy, I recommend preparing them separately, then stirring them into the whole pot (or even individual servings) at the end.More Cozy Instant Pot Soups

Recommended Tools to Make Instant Pot Chicken Noodle Soup

No matter how you’re feeling right now, a bowl of this wholesome, heart-warming chicken noodle soup is here for you. I hope it’s just the healthy dinner/hug-in-a-bowl you’re craving.

Easy Instant Pot Chicken Noodle Soup with chicken breasts or thighs. Warm and comforting with the cozy flavor we all love. Just 15 minutes of prep!

2 1/2 pounds bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts, thighs, or a mix 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil 1 tablespoon unsalted butter 1 medium onion — chopped 1 pound carrots — peeled and cut into 1/4-inch-thick diagonal slices 3 medium stalks celery — cut into 1/2-inch-thick slices 1 1/4 teaspoons kosher salt — plus additional to taste 1/2 teaspoon black pepper — or to taste 1 teaspoon dried oregano 4 sprigs fresh thyme 1 bay leaf 4 cups low-sodium chicken broth 3 cups water — plus additional as needed 2 1/2 cups uncooked whole wheat egg noodles — about 3 3/4 ounces Chopped fresh parsley

Carefully remove the skin from the chicken. If your chicken breasts are very large (more than 1 pound each), use a very sharp knife to carefully slice them in half crosswise through the bone. Set aside.

Turn your Instant Pot to the sauté setting. Add the olive oil and butter.

Once the butter is melted, add the onion, carrots, and celery. Cook for 3 to 5 minutes, stirring often, until the onion softens and becomes translucent.

Stir in the salt, pepper, and oregano. Place the thyme and bay leaf on top. Pour in the chicken broth and 3 cups water. Gently add the chicken pieces.

Close and seal the Instant Pot. Cook on high pressure (manual) for 10 minutes. Let the pressure release naturally for 10 minutes, then immediately vent to release any remaining pressure. Carefully open the lid.

Remove the chicken and transfer it to a cutting board. Pick out the thyme stems and bay leaf and discard. Turn the Instant Pot to saute (you will need to press “cancel” first).

Add the noodles. Let cook, uncovered, until noodles are al dente, about 5 to 6 minutes.

While the noodles cook, shred the chicken and discard the bones. Once the noodles are done, turn off the Instant Pot. Stir in the parsley and shredded chicken. If you’d like a more brothy, thinner soup, stir in additional water until your desired consistency is reached. Taste and adjust seasoning as desired. Enjoy hot with an extra sprinkle of fresh parsley.

Course: Main Course

Cuisine: American

Keyword: Instant Pot Chicken Noodle Soup, Instant Pot Soup

Nutrition InformationAmount per serving (1 of 6) — Calories: 403, Fat: 7g, Saturated Fat: 2g, Cholesterol: 5mg, Carbohydrates: 25g, Fiber: 5g, Sugar: 8g, Protein: 32g

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